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pascalpanic · 3 years

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Caffeine Rush: Chapter Seven / Decaf

W/C: 4k

Warnings: language, dirty thoughts, all of the dirty thoughts because Javi is a horndog, male masturbation... general spice. pining that could make a pine cone tremble.

A/N: welcome to pining central, enjoy your stay :) (ps when Steve says “Javier Peña” I need you to read that in the voice of Anthony Mackie going “SEBASTIAN STAN”)

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ordinary coffee that has had most of its caffeine removed from it before the beans are roasted.

You are a goddamn test on Javier’s self control. He feels like those biblical stories of men fighting back against temptation to prove themselves to God, except the only thing he has to prove is to himself. To you.

He’s always been enraptured by you, captivated by your smile and laugh but since you went ice skating, he hasn’t been able to get your body out of his mind. The way you fell asleep on him last night, nuzzled in like it was the safest place on earth. He could feel your breasts press into his skin, the warmth of your thigh hiked across his abdomen. If the past week has been some caffeine-induced fever dream, it’s becoming real now. You, a figment of his imagination before, maybe, are all flesh and blood and God, is he desperate for it.

Javier hangs around your apartment when you’re gone at work. He doesn’t have much else to do, considering you’re gone and he knows hardly anything about the city. He watches the daytime television on your couch, usually meanders to the coffee shop for a drink, spends some time there, and returns to the apartment.

He feels like he’s couch-surfing, like he did for a summer in his college years. He feels guilty occupying the space in your home, especially without payment. As he walks to the bathroom, he takes a long glance into your bedroom. The queen-sized bed is mussed, unmade before you left for work. The fitted sheet is pooled in the middle beneath where you sleep, the various blankets tossed about. It looks like the coziest damn thing he’s ever seen, especially after a couple of nights on a couch.

Javier almost thinks about giving in, waiting for you to ask him to sleep in your bed tonight then jumping at the chance. Maybe he will, if he’s tired enough. Maybe he won’t, but maybe he will. He can think of nothing better than the endless whir of the radiator as your perpetually-cold body nuzzles against him, brushes your nose against his bare chest.

It’s been a long time since Javi has fucked anyone, and he’s starting to feel it. He’s a little antsy, and the image of your body, your ass as you ice skate past him, haunts him like a bad dream- or rather some illicit fantasy he knows he shouldn’t be having.

Would you want him yet? You’ve told him you love him, but that was an accident. When he kisses you, you kiss back harder. Hell, you initiated the first kiss. You seem like you’ve been all-in on this relationship, taking things at a rushed pace that Javier certainly doesn’t mind. He spends a lot of the day contemplating that, standing on the tiny balcony of your apartment and smoking a couple of cigarettes.

At this point, he needs a distraction or he’s going to have to take matters into his own hands, quite literally. What better to kill the horny buzz making his head spin than to call Murphy?

The phone is in your bedroom, on the nightstand. Javier dares to sit on the edge of your bed, and actually moans aloud at the plush comfort, the way his ass sinks into it. Goddamn, he’ll have to get one of these. He wants nothing more than to lay back and fall into the bed, wait for you to get home and pound you into the comfortable mattress. But he doesn’t. He stays strong and picks up the phone, dialing the new Murphy residence in Miami.

After a couple of rings, a familiar voice answers. “Murphy’s.”

“Hey, bastard,” Javier chuckles, and he can hear the blonde man’s laughter from across the receiver.

“Javier Peña,” Steve drawls, dragging out the name. “Good to hear your voice, man. You finally come out of a ten-day celebratory drunkenness?”

“Don’t talk to me about binges,” Javier teases, but he smiles a little. He’s missed the man. He’s glad neither of them got in any trouble over the entire Los Pepes situation- God, that feels like ages ago now. It’s hard to believe he’s only been in D.C. what, eleven days? If Steve’s math is right, yeah. “No. I’m in D.C. still, if you can believe it. Just… bored.”

“Oh really?” the man scoffs, leaning against his kitchen counter in Miami with Olivia on his hip. “And why’s that? What are you still doin’ up there anyway? Thought you were goin’ to visit the old man.”

Javier shakes his head. “Plans changed. There’s, uh… there’s a girl.”

Steve lets out a wolf whistle, laughing. “And how much does she charge a night?”

“Not one of those. She works at a coffee shop around here,” he informs him. “She’s… she’s really something. Nothing I ever thought I’d be into. She’s gorgeous, man, and so energetic all the damn time. Seems like she has an IV of coffee from her shop,” he chuckles, looking off into space. He takes a pause. Steve doesn’t speak. “I wanna be with her Steve. I don’t… I don’t know if I can go back.”

He’s silent a little longer. “This is some kind of practical joke, right?” Steve says after a beat, barely holding back a laugh. Never has Javier been so sincere, so real and honest and open. And more specifically, he’s never been like this over a girl. Almost… mushy. Soft. “Tell me more,” he says, hoping the joke will give up.

Javier talks about you, describing every little detail with a grin on his face. He tells Steve about Tie Guy and ice skating and your piece of shit car, how you can spin in circles on the ice and how you remind him of a busy little bee, fluttering about the coffee shop.

Steve is genuinely rendered speechless; a hard thing to do. He blinks down at Olivia then straight ahead at the refrigerator, covered in photos and magnets and drawings. He can’t imagine Javier ever wanting something like this, like what he and Connie have, but he sure sounds like it. “That’s… something. Good for you, Javi,” Steve chuckles, resigning to sincerity. “I’m happy for you.”

Javier grumbles back. “Don’t get too happy. I have to go back to Calí in three weeks. She doesn’t want me to leave… I don’t know what to do, Murph. I can’t bring her with, you know that, but I can’t just leave her here. And I sure as hell can’t quit.”

“You could quit.”

“I’m not going to, how’s that?” Javier huffs and crosses his arms, annoyed by Steve and his goddamn wording loopholes. “I just… fuck. I’m gonna go think about it before she gets back.”

“She comin’ to your hotel? You sure you aren’t paying per night?” He smirks.

Javier’s quiet and Steve isn’t sure what it means until he talks. “I’m, uh, staying at her place. She insisted.”

Steve whistles again. “Damn. You’re whipped, Peña. Well, I’ll let you go. Call again soon. I miss ya, bud,” he tells Javier in a moment of earnesty then hangs the phone back on the receiver, bringing Olivia to her nursery to change her diaper.

Javi sighs and falls backwards on the bed, admiring the way the mattress holds his body compared to the couch. Yeah, he’ll definitely need to sleep in here tonight or he’s going to crack his spine.

The issue will be you. He could handle it on the couch; it was like a soft, adolescent form of love, innocent and warm. Of course, it could still be the same in your bed. But would it? Is there not a different set of implications that come with the two of you sharing a bed?

Snuggling with you on the couch was nice. Wonderful, perfect even. Javier loves falling asleep with you in his arms. But in your bed, arms curled around him, maybe even being his little spoon… that perfect body pressed flush to his own, your soft ass against his groin, your breathing pushing back into his chest… that would be an entirely different thing. And he wants it, he really does, but he isn’t sure he’ll be able to control himself.

He slept like shit the last night, to be honest. You on top of him prevented him from moving, and Javier is an active sleeper. His neck was at an odd angle and his back twisted. His body feels like it did after that fight with Tie Guy. He can’t- wouldn’t- invade your privacy of your bed without you home to give him the go ahead, but he’s so damn tired. Not even the coffee helps.

So Javier indulges in one of life’s little pleasures he rarely gets to experience: a nap. Curled up on his side on the couch, blankets pulled snug around his fetal-positioned body, Javier drifts off to the sound of the noon news on the television.

That’s how you find him when you come home. He’s peacefully asleep, his lips parted and mustache moving with his exhales. Well, he’s clearly alive. That’s good.

You’re not sure how long he’s been asleep, so you leave him, making yourself something to eat in the kitchen. You avoid the living room as you get settled in, changing out of your espresso-stained clothing and into something more comfortable.

When you’re all comfy, makeup removed and a warm sweater on, you sit at the other end of the couch. Javier’s curled into a ball, his feet just inches away from your legs. You hope when he moves, he’ll feel you there and wake. If not, oh well. He deserves the rest.

It’s gray and cloudy outside, and you snuggle into the corner of the couch while reading your worn copy of The Great Gatsby. It’s the one you’ve been re-reading recently, what you were reading that first day Javi wandered into your coffee shop and subsequently your life.

Javi wakes not long later, maybe half an hour, to the sound of your book crinkling. The paperback’s spine crunches with wear, and his eyes flutter open to see you tucked against a pillow. God, you look like an angel, the light from the cloudy day filtering in and illuminating you from the back. Your face is calm and peaceful, focused as your eyes trace the words of F. Scott Fitzgerald. “Hi,” Javier mumbles groggily.

Your expression turns to a smile and you set down the book. “Hey.” You take his legs and drape them across your lap, tracing your fingers across them. “How’d you sleep?”

He groans. “Okay. Neck hurts.”

“That wouldn’t be an issue if you’d just sleep with me,” you sing-song to him, stroking his legs through the comfortable pants he wears. “My bed is super cozy.”

God, does Javier know it. It felt like your love itself when he laid down and the warmth of it swallowed him, practically whole. “Maybe I’ll give in,” he sighs, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “How was work? Sorry I didn’t visit.”

“Boring as always,” you chuckle. “What did you do today?”

Javi frowns as he thinks about it, his brain fogged with sleep. “Not much. Called Murphy, talked a while. He’s doing good.”

“Good,” you nod and smile. “When will I get to meet this elusive Steve?” You ask, softly kneading at his legs through the blanket and frowning as you realize he’s wearing… jeans. “Wait, pause. Are you seriously wearing jeans?” you ask him and laugh, lifting the blanket to confirm what you already suspected.

He frowns defensively, crossing his arms. “Maybe.”

“Why the fuck would you take a nap in jeans, Javi?” You laugh.

Javier looks away, frowning. The stubbornness shows. “I don’t own many comfortable clothes besides what I wear to work, if you haven’t noticed,” he retorts, but you can’t help but giggle. “Plus I thought I’d only be here to get fired.”

You smile at him lovingly and cup his face. “You sweet, stupid workaholic. Let’s go shopping later, get you some cozy stuff.”

Javier warms against your touch but maintains a pout. “I like jeans.”

Rolling your eyes, you huff out a laugh. “Would a pair of sweatpants be detrimental to your wardrobe, Javier?”

“Stop using big words,” he groans. “I’m barely awake.”

The large mall is annoying to Javier, full to the brim with last-minute (or maybe prepared, he never holiday-purchases) shoppers. He holds your hand, shooting feisty glares at anyone that dares to bump against his or, god forbid, your side. “Relax,” you tease and squeeze his free hand. The other carries a bag containing two hoodies, three t-shirts, and two pairs of sweatpants. “You’re not on a mission, and you certainly don’t have the knuckles to pitch another fight.”

He looks at his hands and scowls. You’re right. They’re no longer black and blue but faded yellows and greens, a spare bit of purple over the bones. The fight wasn’t that long ago, really, even though it feels like an eternity.

You drag Javier into a favorite shop of yours. He follows you around like a lost puppy while you search through clothes. He even hands you one or two tops he thinks you’d look nice in. You kiss him on the cheek and he dares to smile for a moment before returning to his stone-faced annoyance at such a packed area.

The dressing rooms are nicer, much more spaced out and offering places to rest. Javier sits in a chair across from your little cubby as you try things on. Every time you find something, you come out and model it for him. He comments, always positively, gives a little applause and smiles at the twirl you give in the big trifold mirror.

There’s one pair of leggings that hug your ass tight. Javier nearly salivates at them. “I like those,” he comments. “They look comfortable.” The same follows with a pair of jeans, even more flattering. He crosses his legs and nods, giving you similar comments.

Then come the dresses and tops. They’re all low-cut, not the wintery clothing Javier’s always seen you in. They show off your cleavage, and one scarlet colored blouse with a low neckline and fluffy sleeves makes Javier’s eyes simultaneously light up and darken. “How’s this one?” You ask, tugging at the sleeves.

“How much is it?” He asks, leaning back and looking at you through lidded eyes.

“Uh…” you tell him the cost and look back up at him, expecting a comment. “Why?”

“I’m buying that for you myself,” he smirks up at you, eyeing you up and down in a way that makes your skin feel intensely hot. The sight is stunning to him, and your flustered smile makes the smirk a little more devilish.

Javier does end up buying you the shirt, and you purchase a few other things you liked. But that scarlet shirt is stuck on Javier’s mind in replay: the subtle valley between your tits, how they filled out the shirt just perfectly and tugged at the cloth covering them, the way they look painfully soft to the touch, especially through that soft fabric. He wonders if you were wearing a bra under it. Then he has to stop himself.

You eat dinner late, chatting mindlessly over everything and nothing. Javier has no work to speak of now, so he tells you tall tales of the hunt for Escobar, some exaggerated and some underplayed. He mainly listens to you, asks about your past and your future, your family and your job. He could never tire of your voice, the soothing lull that warms him from the inside out, just like your skin flushed in that goddamn red top.

He drives the both of you home, humming softly to the songs on the radio. He’s beginning to recognize more and more of the top-40 hits on a certain preset station, songs he’d never listen to on his own. He glances over at you, gazing out of the window, and feels his body warm again- not just in his heart, but his stomach and lower too. He dares to steal a glance down, at the soft swell of your tits in that sweater. God, he wants to get you naked.

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t know what you want and he’s too afraid to ask, too afraid to shatter this blissful phase of adoration without the sexual attraction. He wonders if you feel it too, if your clothes suddenly feel too restricting and too warm when you run a hand down his bare back.

The nightly routine ensues: you shower. Javier changes, this time into a new hoodie but leaves his legs bare, wearing only boxers on the bottom. He waits on the couch, and when you exit the bathroom, he takes his turn. He returns and sits next to you on the couch.

Tonight, when you ask him to share your bed with you, he doesn’t say no. In fact, he doesn’t say much of anything, just yawns softly and stands, taking your hand.

It’s a sacred space, your bed. Javier knows it. He rarely fucks women in his; whether it’s for his own privacy or fear they’ll fall asleep there, he can’t say. But your bed is such an intimate expression of you, and he can see it. He can see the divot in the mattress where you sleep, the way you arrange the pillows just right for your own head. It is a queen size, but it’s single-occupancy: until now, that is, and Javier feels honored you’re willing to share this holiness with him.

He gets into the bed on the other side of you, the warm blankets enveloping him, and he nearly lets out a moan at the comfort. Compared to the hotel bed and the couch, this is sleeping on a literal cloud from the heavens. He lies still, waiting to see what you do first. Not wanting to overstep anything.

His prayers are answered when you snuggle into his side. You rest your head on his chest, kissing his sternum through the soft material of the hoodie. A hand rests on the other side of your face, and your legs both encircle one of his. Javier smiles, wrapping an arm around you. He presses a kiss into your hair and murmurs a goodnight, letting his head fall back. He has no time to worry about this situation before he falls asleep.

He falls asleep almost immediately, which makes you chuckle through your half-conscious state. He seems to always radiate heat, Javier. Your layers of blankets upon blankets suddenly feel unnecessary when a heat source the strength of the summer sun fills your bed. His chest is strong and firm beneath you. The rise and fall of his chest is like a boat rocking on the ocean, putting you at ease and allowing you to rest.

Fuck. He knew this was a bad idea. Why did he do this?

The clock reads 1:48 and Javier is wide awake, staring at your popcorn-stucco-whatever the fuck it is ceiling. He wasn’t able to process this before sleep overtook him, before his consciousness was wiped and with it, his inhibitions.

Your body is pressed to his so perfectly. You sleep without a bra, and Javier can feel his arm being slightly sandwiched between your breasts, the way they press further into it every time you inhale. Your thighs are warm with sleep, and he can feel your core pressed against his hip, even while you sleep and even through the layers of clothing.

Javier feels like the embodiment of slime. You’re asleep and all he can think about is how fucking hot your body is, how much he wants to press you into this mattress and wake you with an orgasm. He wants to palm your tits and make your nipples harden through that flimsy shirt, to slide his fingers beneath your pajama bottoms and-

He can’t take it. He feels so wrong, the smell of you surrounding him and choking him like a thick perfume, even in its subtlety. He does not deserve to sleep next to you, innocently, like someone you love, when all he can think about is his own carnal desires.

Pushing back the covers, Javier gets out of bed before any more blood can flow to his slowly hardening dick. This is all wrong. He should not be doing this, thinking these things without knowing you feel the same.

But the guilt is as strong as his arousal. He watches you for a moment, torn between his options, before meandering through the darkened bedroom and finding his way into the bathroom. He turns on the bright lights and forces himself to stare at the bulbs, to make his pupils shrink from their blown state of sleep mixed with desperation. He’s fully awake now.

He needs to get the hardened length down. He can’t do this, can’t allow himself this suffering while you sleep in the next room.

The sink. Cold water. He gasps silently at the splash of the ice-cold water against his face, dampening the edges of his hoodie. It doesn’t work enough. Again. Nothing. He feels like a teenager, unable to control himself. The cold water is a good idea, though.

Javier strips down, trying to avoid the urge to take himself in hand and fix this here and now. Turning the water as cold as it can go, Javier turns on the shower and steps in.

Agony is the best term he has. It makes him want to squeal like a fucking pig as he shudders from the cold. It doesn’t work to force his erection down, but what use is it when it’s not something physical but mental stimulating him? The cold shock didn’t do shit. Javier’s still achingly hard. He turns the water warmer and sighs as it gradually turns to a tolerable temperature, one that he can relax under and allow himself to let out a deep sigh.

He has no other options, unless he wants to wait it out. Leaning against the wall, Javier strokes himself, biting his lip and hoping the water pressure will cancel any soft moans he can’t avoid. It doesn’t take long when he’s this aroused, when he knows exactly what the fantasy in his head would feel like.

Javier is panting and sweating, from the effort and the growing heat of the water. He feels disgusting but it feels so good, and he can’t help imagining you doing this to him, you spreading your legs and feeding the fire between his own.

It only takes a few minutes. He gasps as he cums, with a force he’s never brought forth with his own hand. He bites his lip so hard he’s sure he might cut it off, not allowing the desperate sounds to reach a level you could hear. When he’s done, he groans and cracks his neck. “Oh, little bee,” he whispers, agonized as he lets the water wash the evidence of his sins down the drain.

When he’s done, Javier walks into your bedroom, silently, in the dark. His previous boxers were stained with a patch of his precum; he can’t put those back on. He drops the towel and puts on different boxers.

After he’s changed, he looks at your bed longingly for a moment. The soft sheets, soft mattress, the soft body between them. But in Javier’s head, he’s forsaken his right to the warmth, the comfort.

When you wake in the morning, hours after you thought you heard the shower running, you find Javier is not in your bed. There isn’t even a warm spot where he lay, just your body shifted further from your normal sleeping position. When you wander out to make your morning coffee, you find him. He spent the night on the couch again.

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drawlfoy · 4 years

Text

Wonders of Ohio - P.7

masterlist (catch up with the series here!)

request guidelines (yes i am taking them!)

pairing: draco x reader

request: no! this is my original idea

summary: american high school senior is in for a surprise when her family takes on a foreign exchange student with a mysterious past.

warnings: teen drinking, mentions of an armed robbery, language, a brief hospital visit, and descriptions of illness

a/n: hey. so. this is definitely where stuff starts to go down. thanks so much for waiting...i have so many more things planned for this series and i’m thrilled to see it come together the way that it is right now. thank you very much for reading and thank you for your patience!

taglist: @gruffle1 @missmulti @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @icintliviinyiniilsiji @erisdogwood @loveissupernatural

word count: 6k

song recs:

murders - miracle musical

pink in the night - mitski

always, forever - cults

ice dance - ashton gleckman

enjoy!

Y/N should’ve felt cold when she awoke on the wet pavement. Despite a figure looming over her and blocking out most of the rain, the back of her neck and body was drenched in the cool water from the puddle to her right. It was easily in the mid 40s at this point in the evening, something that would ordinarily make her toes curl and her figure tremble, but it felt...different.

She felt like her insides had been scorched, like she’d downed an entire pitcher of boiling hot water. Every movement she made hurt--right down to wiggling her fingertips and her eyes. Her body was exhausted. If she hadn’t known any better, she would’ve thought that she’d just finished running a marathon in hell.

“Can you hear me?” A posh British voice cut through her musings as the figure above her came into focus.

Draco.

“Yeah. Was there a fire?” Her words left her throat painfully, scratching their way up her vocal chords.

“Er...what do you remember?”

She squeezed her eyes shut. The memories of the night slowly began trickling back--she’d done Draco’s tie, told him to watch his drink, argued with Chad about how funny he was, and walked to...Oh, yeah. The antique store. The box. The stars inside of her.

She flinched. “I fainted. I’m sorry. That was really stupid of me.”

“What?” Draco shifted back, the light from the front of the antique store catching his face. There were lines in his forehead that she’d never seen before. “Why?”

“I didn’t eat enough today,” said Y/N. Speaking was starting to feel less and less like lighting her trachea on fire. “I was really nervous and I lost my appetite. I’m an easy fainter.”

He cleared his throat. “Er, okay. Yeah. That was it. Anyways, we have to get home. You need to, uh, eat.”

“Okay.”

Y/N allowed herself to be hauled up onto her feet, swaying slightly once her full weight was on her feet. Her sense of gravity felt like it had been loosened. With every step, she felt pulled to the ground from a different part of her core.

“Steady. Don’t fall.” By some miracle, once Draco’s hands were gently guiding her shoulders, she was able to make her way to the backseat of Heather’s car before she collapsed.

“Where are we going?” asked Y/N. Despite no longer feeling like she was near death, her head was still cloudy.

“Home,” was all Draco said as he slid in on the other side of the car.

She didn’t bother putting on her seatbelt--she still felt like she was about to keel over--and rested her head on the car window. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Draco open the passenger car door for a moment, pause, shut it, and instead tug open the door across from her and slide in.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“My insides feel like they’re on fire.” Y/N winced as she tried to shift and get the weight off of her neck. “I think I’m sick.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” said Heather from the front, her eyes catching Y/N’s from the mirror. “You were just laying down in the middle of a rainstorm. Go home and take some Zi-cam or something, jesus.”

Y/N tried to chuckle in response, but it came out as a sorry squeak instead. No one made a move to further comment on the evening’s events as Heather pulled onto the freeway and began to gain speed. The sudden lurches and changes of speed in the car set Y/N’s stomach into a churning frenzy, her head growing light again.

“Draco.”

Her voice was so soft it was hardly audible--the syllables jumbled together on her lips in a quiet mess--but he immediately snapped to attention.

“What is it?”

She took a deep breath. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“For the love of god, at least try and hold it until we get off the freeway.”

“Shut up, Heather,” said Draco. Y/N couldn’t help but feel the slightest twinge of satisfaction as he rolled his eyes and turned his attention back on her. “Is it the motion? Are you sick from that?”

“I don’t know,” she managed.

He sighed. “Helpful.”

“Dick.”

Draco frowned at her, but she could see the slightest twinkle of amusement in his eye. “Can you move into the middle seat for me? Do you need help?”

Once Y/N had scooted over from her side, he leaned away from her and pointed up to the sunroof above them. “Go ahead and count all the lights that you can see in the sky. I promise it’ll make you feel better. Just keep your head pointed up.”

She tilted her head back. The night sky was largely gloomy, but the flickering lights of the planes that dove in and out of clouds provided some glowing dots. As she counted, Heather hit the fog strips and nearly threw her back into her original seat. She felt a warm hand wrap around her wrist and gently grip, the long fingers completely encircling it.

Y/N blinked. The nausea was gone. “What are you, a sorcerer or something?” she joked, not expecting to see Draco so frozen at the comment. “Kidding. I just feel better already. Thank you.”

He nodded and turned away to look out the window. His soft grip on her hand was long gone, and Y/N took Heather’s slightly uncoordinated driving as a cue to slide back into her seat and buckle up.

“If you really need to puke,” said Heather, “I have a Target bag back somewhere under the passenger seat. Please avoid the seats. They’re authentic vegan leather.”

“I don’t think that’s a thing.”

“Just don’t throw up, okay?”

Y/N was in Art History when it happened. The chills began, so intense and teeth-chattering that her teacher took one look at her and sent her immediately to the nurse. Sylvia offered to walk her, but she was only allowed to under the condition that she avoid all physical contact with her and sanitized each surface that Y/N touched. It was a wonder she made it to the first floor office--each step felt heavier than the last, and from the beginning she felt moments from simply passing out.

A temperature check revealed that she had a mild fever--100.3 F, to be exact--and a call home resulted in her mother’s full voicemail box and the remembrance that her parents were out for the week.

“Can someone else drive you?” Nurse Hazelwood asked as she stepped away to douse her hands in hand sanitizer. “I don’t think you should get yourself home in this state.”

After some deliberation, it was decided that Sylvia would take her home and call someone for a ride back. It was a bit overkill--but she didn’t know what else to do.

“And can you make sure Draco has a ride home today?” Y/N asked as they pulled into the driveway of the Y/L/N home.

“Stop stressing so much, dude.” Sylvia took the keys out of the ignition to give her an expectant look. “You’re sick. Go inside and make some soup or something. I’m sure your boyfriend will figure it out.”

“Now I really am gonna be sick,” said Y/N as she rolled her eyes.

The rest of her afternoon was a blur. Y/N tried to force down some chicken soup, but it took all her might to keep it from coming right back up. It was safe to say her appetite was gone.

After a failed attempt at walking up the stairs to crawl into bed, she collapsed onto the couch. The last thing she remembered was the sound of footsteps outside the front door.

Y/N hadn’t been to the hospital since she had to get stitches in middle school. Then, all she did was lie back in the chair and try to shut her eyes as the needle wove in and out of her torn thigh (bad bike accident, in case anyone was curious). But now was different.

Her eyes hurt to open, like someone had thrown soap in them and the very line where her two lids met were lined with knives. Everything inside of her was on fire--a manic, all-consuming fire that made it impossible for her to keep anything down.

The nurses and doctors were no help--not like Y/N actually had her eyes long enough to see any of them--but their voices were enough to let her know what was going on.

“Fever of 104--”

“Can’t keep anything down--”

“Severely dehydrated--”

“Tested negative for everything we tried--”

“Never seen anything like this before--”

“No viruses were detected--”

“Not mono--”

As she wove in and out of consciousness, one fact stuck in her mind: I think I might die here. Something is very wrong.

When she did dream, images of the box she picked up plagued her mind. The symbol, etched lightly into the black top, glowed menacingly in her hands. Open it, open it something around her urged, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t.

It was during one of these dreams that her world suddenly shifted back to her hospital room. She was suspended above her body, looking down at the tangle of IVs and various other wires that imprisoned her...but she wasn’t alone.

The dim lighting and darkness outside confirmed her suspicion that it was indeed late at night. A figure, tall and slim, was sitting to her left. It was whispering something unintelligible as it gently took her hand and squeezed.

If Y/N could scream, she would’ve. The sudden pull back to her body was so strong that she was yanked across the room so she just barely hovered over her corporeal form. She could feel a grip, steady and firm, wrapped around her hand as a rush of cool ran through her. Each breath, each pulse, each heartbeat pulled her back to herself. It felt like a bucket of water had been poured over--into--her, extinguishing the flames that were eating away the inside of her.

The figure’s whispering finally came to an end as she settled back into her physical body. Before she drifted off to a peaceful slumber, a familiar voice rose above the quiet whispers.

“I’m sorry.”

“Y/N!”

Her eyes shot open to see her mother, heavy eye bags and all, standing over her bed. “Hi Mo-”

“You scared me half to death!” Mrs. Y/L/N interrupted, placing her hand on her forehead. “No fever. Thank god. You know, when you were a baby, you were horribly ill with…”

Y/N sat and pretended she was listening as she relinquished in the fact that she was awake, she was here. The fire inside of her was long gone, replaced with the familiar...whatever was there before. Nothing? Maybe. Nothing was good, or at least better than the painful fire. It struck her with a sudden urgency that she had no idea what day it was, much less time. What about her homework? What about her UChicago application? Her counselor was supposed to submit her letter of rec a week ago...or a week ago from whenever she was brought to the hospital.

“Honey, are you even listening?”

“Uh, yeah,” she said.

“That’s what I thought. The food here is horrendous--of course you’re excited to go home.” Mrs. Y/L/N took her glasses off to wipe at the lens in a gesture that seemed more habitual and less effective. “You poor thing. Your father is still in New York--John simply couldn’t have him leave--but he’ll be back as soon as he can. Let’s get you out of here.”

The next few hours were a strange blur of paperwork, changes of clothes, and a bag of medication. The nurses and doctors were bewildered at her miraculous recovery and expressed this at every chance they had on her way out, reminding her to immediately seek attention if she feels anything similar again.

“What day is it?” Y/N finally asked once they were on the way home.

“Wow, you really were out of it.” Mrs. Y/L/N flicked her blinker on as she merged onto the freeway. “Sunday. You were there almost a whole week.”

“Huh? What about school? Do my teachers know? How did Draco get to school? Is he ok?”

“Of course your teachers know, hun. They’re all being very forgiving with their late work policies. As long as you’re putting effort into learning the material you missed, they have no problem letting you skip out on the homework. As for Draco...I think he’s fine. Sylvia’s family took him under their wing for the week. He’s still alive.”

And such a statement was proven when Y/N walked through the front door. Draco shot up from his seat at the living room couch the moment they locked eyes, his hands wringing back and forth.

“You’re okay.”

“You’re okay too,” she responded airily. “When I wasn’t dying I was worrying myself about how you’d do without me. I see my fears of you walking into moving traffic didn’t come true, thank God.”

His lips, tight, offered her the slightest upturn.

“Y/N, dearie, no need to harass the boy,” her mother said. “Up to your room. I’ll bring you some soup in a moment. You need to rest, young lady.”

She sent one last teasing grin at Draco before she was ushered up the steps, her mother fussing over her the entire way.

“So,” Sylvia said, crossing her legs over the other and giving Y/N a wicked look, “Consider this your last formal invitation to my Halloween party. It’s this Friday. It’s not even the night before the ED deadline. You should go.”

“I don’t know, Vy,” said Y/N. Her art history notes lay untouched in front of her as the teacher droned on about something related to how mannerism as an art style came to fame during the...Reformation? She didn’t know. “I’m kind of tired. I feel bad about leaving Draco alone, too.”

“Dude.”

“What?”

Sylvia rolled her eyes. “Will you just do us all a favor and admit that you like him? It’s getting exhausting. Just ask him to come with you.”

“You’re absolutely off your rocker if you think I’m gonna do that,” Y/N said.

“I’m just saying, you’ve done weirder things. Like almost dying from...literally nothing.”

“Hey, hey, don’t be rude. I’ll think about it but no guarantees. I don’t really think Draco is the partying type, though.”

“I’d be careful about making such a wild assumption. You never know what goes on in those posh private British schools for rich kids or wherever he went.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

Her friend laughed. “No. Just an optimist.”

Y/N swung the sleeve of her cardigan at her, whacking her pretty good on the bicep. If Sylvia was bothered by it, she didn’t show it. “Fine. I’ll ask him as a friend.”

“Pansy.”

Y/N was never the type to enjoy background noise as she worked, but there was something nostalgic about hearing the identical voices of her local news anchors in the room over as she sat at the kitchen table and worked on a last minute Physics review set.

“Hey loser,” she called out as she saw a head of blond hair pass by her to get to the kettle. “Care to join me?”

Draco turned, his mouth open and ready to issue a retort before he appeared to change his mind. He’d been oddly distant lately, avoiding her in the common spaces they often saw each other and choosing to get breakfast and his evening tea at times that he knew she wouldn’t be down in the kitchen for. Perhaps that was the reason why she was sitting at the kitchen table at present, but of course she’d never admit that. Not even to herself.

“Can’t. I’m a bit busy with work.”

“Draco,” she chided. “What work is it? I can help you, you know.”

He paused for a few seconds, taking in the scatter of papers on the table and the nearly complete review sheet. “The Physics review is taking me a bit of time,” he said, his tone forced and resigned.

“Go grab it!” She grinned as his scowl deepened. “If you’re nice I’ll let you copy.”

She lost track of time as they went over his work, his pencil marks filling the page with symbols that were unfamiliar to her.

“Your handwriting is really nice,” she noted. “Like, so nice that I feel like you could really make it as a study youtuber or a study blogger or whatever. You have that potential if you want to tap into it, dude.”

“I have no idea what that is,” he said neatly as he punched an equation into her calculator.

“Fair.”

She sat still for a few more moments, watching as her study partner’s chest rose and fell with each breath he took. Sylvia’s Halloween party was just a few days away, and she needed to ask him at some point. Every time she mustered up the courage to open her mouth and hitch her breath, the words would die on her tongue.

The silence weighed heavy in the air as the words of the news anchors floated over…”multiple reports of an armed robbery….suburbs surrounding Cincinnati...cautioned to lock doors...potential link to the missing persons case…”

“Draco,” she said finally. He jolted up from his work to gaze at her. His eyes were probably the prettiest things she’d ever seen--all pale and metallic and silvery. “Uh, I’m going to this Halloween party this Friday. You should come with me, it sounds like it’ll be fun. I think that Heather will be there.”

Y/N mentally groaned at her admission to Heather’s attendance but didn’t know what else to say. She wanted him to come--even if it was so he could spend the whole time being woo-ed over by her.

“Er,” he began, twirling his pencil around his fingers. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. Homework, you know.”

“Just finish it before--That’s what I’m doing.”

“I think I’m go--”

The slam of the front door made both of them jump, scattering Y/N’s long forgotten work and threatening to knock Draco’s mug over.

“Hi kids,” Mrs. Y/L/N greeted as she entered the kitchen, an armful of grocery bags in tow. “Studying?”

“Yeah,” Y/N answered. “By the way, Mom, Sylvia invited me over to her house on Friday for a sort of Halloween get together. Can I go?”

Her mother was silent for a few moments as she methodically unpacked the paper bags on the counter.

“I don’t see why not. Is Draco coming too?”

“No,” he replied before Y/N even had the chance to open her mouth.

“I don’t think you should be home alone at night, my dear,” said her mother. “Have you seen the news? There’s someone on the loose. I’d feel much better if you were with Y/N--Robert and I are going to an auction that night. We won’t be around.”

“I’ll be fi--”

“If Y/N is going, you’re going,” Mrs. Y/L/N said as she finished unloading and brushed her hands off on her thighs. Her no nonsense demeanor rarely showed itself, but when it did, she was difficult to argue with.

Y/N shrunk down in her seat as Draco sent her a sour look.

Sorry she mouthed. If he noticed, he didn’t show it.

“Remind me again why we’re walking?”

Draco’s snotty tone carried through the crisp fall air as they neared the street that Sylvia lived on.

“Because,” said Y/N, “Quite frankly, I don’t think I can get through being in an enclosed space with Heather for an entire night without being at least a little buzzed. And I’m not gonna have you drive us home.”

“Hmph.” His dress shoes, odd pointed tips and all, kicked at the fall leaves below them. His costume was literally nothing different than what he wore when he arrived--a crisp white dress shirt, an oddly cut blazer, and a weird looking green and silver pin attached to his lapel.

“If anyone asks,” she had told him from the hallway as they were getting ready to go that afternoon, “Just say you’re a corporate rat or something.”

He’d snorted at her choice of clothing--a completely dark brown set up with a picture of a shoe taped to her chest.

“I’m the shoe that that Iraqi reporter threw at Bush,” she had explained.

He just stared.

“If you aren’t having fun, please just let me know,” Y/N said as they turned one of the last corners. “We can tell her our fish died or something. Sylvia would totally understand.”

“We don’t have a fish.”

“I know, genius,” she teased, giving him a little punch. Instead of balking, he just crinkled his nose. “But she doesn’t.”

“I think she does.”

“You’re missing the point. You’ll tell me if you want to go back home, promise?”

“I want to go home.”

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

He grinned as they waited for Sylvia to open the door.

The next few hours were a bit of a blur. Y/N didn’t drink much at first--maybe the equivalent of 2 or 3 shots, spaced out in between a couple of sips of water--but the energy in Sylvia’s home definitely had her more buzzed than usual. There was something about her home that always felt twice as spooky, a type of underlying energy that pulsed at the seams.

To her surprise, Draco actually took a cup of whatever Sylvia offered him and downed it. She laughed when she saw him finally lower the cup as he furrowed his brow at her.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

His features looked softer in the dim lighting of Sylvia’s living room--all the tension that he carried in his shoulders and face seemed to be gone. When he smiled at her, it was all she could do to keep herself from disintegrating into the couch.

As the night wore on, Y/N felt herself getting progressively more tipsy, and, in her haze, she could see that Draco was going down a similar path. He was touchier than she would have expected--hanging onto her elbow or sleeve whenever Sylvia or Y/N said anything funny, not moving his leg when her thigh was pressed against his, stretching his arm out behind her and resting it on the back of the couch--and she found herself wishing she was sober enough for it to feel real. Maybe she was so drunk that she was imagining it all. Maybe she was actually asleep next to her toilet at home after throwing it all up and was just dreaming.

“Fuck!” Someone exclaimed, prompting her to look up. Abby, a girl she kind of knew from her grade, had spilled the entirety of her drink on the coffee table.

“Y/N,” Sylvia whined, “I’m too tired to get the paper towels. Will you and Draco go?”

Despite the half-hearted protests from Draco, she managed to haul him up by his arm as she pushed back the pleasure that Sylvia saw them as a sort of team, a sort of unit.

“I think she keeps the extra paper towels in her pantry,” she told him as they made their way over to the quiet part of the house. The light hanging over the kitchen island was on, but the rest of the room was bathed in darkness.

“Right he--”

Y/N froze as she saw it--or, as she would come to discover, them.

Heather and Chad stared back at them, looking much more disheveled than one is permitted simply sitting on the kitchen counter. It was hard to make it out clearly, but Heather’s cheeks looked flushed. Chad’s matched.

“In a fucking kitchen? Chad, I thought you were better than this,” Y/N said, turning and grabbing the paper towels from the cabinet behind them. “Get a room, you weirdos.”

Chad laughed, a short lived and awkward sound.

Once they were back out in the living room, Y/N tossed the paper towels to Sylvia. “I think we’re gonna head back. We have to walk, you know.”

Sylvia dramatically threw herself back onto the couch. “I suppose. Thanks for coming guys, it was nice to see you outside of class again.”

“Likewise!” Y/N called over her shoulder as she walked out of the door with Draco by her side.

The walk home was silent for the first few moments. Despite the fact that it was late October, the night was pleasantly crisp and not too cold. The only sources of illumination were the scattered street lights, casting a soft orange hue on the two.

As they turn the corner onto the main street, Y/N’s shoe caught on a crack in the pavement in a movement that would’ve sent her sprawling face-first into the cold concrete if it hadn’t been for Draco’s hand grabbing her own and yanking her back up.

“Thanks,” she said. His hands were warmer than usual despite the coolness of the air.

He just sent her a small smile as he untangled their fingers and placed his hand back into his pants pockets.

“Weird to see Chad and Heather, right?” Y/N nudged him with her shoulder. To her surprise, he nudged back.

“I guess. I thought it was obvious, though.”

“What?! No way.”

“Are you blind? Heather’s been all over Chad,” he said.

“Are you? I thought she was obsessed with you!”

“No, definitely not.”

“Are you sure about that?” she asked, turning to look at him. The dim glow of the streetlights made his hair look almost like a halo. “She wouldn’t leave you alone.”

“Dunno.” Draco shrugged. It was then that Y/N remembered how much he’d had that night.

“I’m sorry. I know you’re probably not in the right mindset to be analyzing other people right now,” said Y/N.

His lips twitched upwards. “No, no, it’s ok. I’m fine. I just couldn’t be bothered over the whole ordeal. Entirely uninspiring, I think.”

“You’re such a nerd, even when you’re drunk,” teased Y/N. “It’s honestly a wonder that you spent the first month near failing physics.”

“Sod off.” He nudged her again, hard enough to make her sway. “You’re the one who’s still an insufferable smartass. I figured drinking would make you more tolerable.”

“Don’t be a dick,” she muttered as she shoved him back. “You know you love me.”

He froze in the middle of his retaliatory shove, his hand rested on her forearm.

“Sarcasm, king,” said Y/N. “I don’t mean it. I wouldn’t blame you if I were right, though. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m quite the commodity.”

“Oh, yes, most certainly.” His tone was dripping in faux genuity as he gave her a gentle push.

As he was doing this, Y/N grabbed the offending arm and took him down with her, landing in the soft garden bush in poor Ms. McCoyle’s front yard.

“Gotcha!” she cheered as he frowned from his spot on top of her. It took all her might to ignore the fact that his face was inches away. “It’s just my smart physics brain at work.”

“Your neighbor is gonna kill us.”

“She can try.”

Draco sat up, grabbing her hand and hauling her to her feet. She took the opportunity to hang onto the sleeve of his coat as a sneaking suspicion overtook her that things wouldn’t be like this again without the clever excuse of intoxication.

“What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

Y/N let go of his sleeve to look up at his face in confusion. She followed his eyes, suddenly hardened with an emotion she couldn’t quite place, to their house at the end of the street.

“You shut the door behind us, right?” Draco asked.

“And locked it.”

Their front door, hanging wide open and swinging in the breeze, told a different story.

Sobering up was easy once the police sirens showed up and searched their house. Y/N could tell the responding sheriff knew they’d been drinking, but since they weren’t driving and were speaking clearly, he didn’t mention anything.

“We’ve searched the house,” he told them as they sat together outside on the curb. “It looks like it fits the profile of the other armed burglaries in the area, but nothing was taken this time. The bedroom that looks out into the garden is completely trashed--it seems like the suspect was looking through your things for something. The bedroom across the hall was displaced a bit, but nothing compared to the first.” He took another look at his notes, adjusting the thick rimmed glasses that were perched on his nose. “You kids are lucky. Whoever this is means business. There’s unfortunately not much we can do except set up a patrol to watch over the street for now. Please give us a call if you see anything or hear anything.”

They nodded. Y/N had placed a call to their parents while they waited a safe distance from the home for the police to arrive. She’d been shaking as she pressed their number into her phone, and Draco, to his credit, rested his hand on her thigh.

“We’ll be fine,” he’d said before retracting it. “Don’t worry.”

Draco seemed considerably calm for someone experiencing a home break in in a foreign country as they made their way into the house. The first responders had left the lights on, and the wash of LED bulbs did nothing to hide the disturbance of her bedroom. Everything of hers was thrown into the middle of the room from her drawers, closet, and dresser. Her laptop, open and plugged in, was left completely untouched.

“Draco,” she said, “Can I ask you something?”

“Depends, what is it?”

Y/N noted that he was getting considerably paler as they stood in her doorway. “I don’t think I can sleep here. Knowing what happened. Especially when it’s still a disaster.”

“Understandable.”

His features looked hardened again, like he’d gone through a filter of seriousness. She decided that this was probably her last chance to ask for any act of intimacy before the effects of alcohol dissipated in his system. “And I don’t want to sleep alone.”

“Er...Oh.” He stared at her. “What?”

“I know that this is really awkward, but can I, like, sleep on your floor or something? Just for tonight.” When she swallowed her throat felt painfully dry. “I don’t snore or anything. It’ll be like I’m not even there.”

Draco sucked in a long breath, casting his eyes up to the ceiling. Y/N wished she knew what he was thinking about. “Yeah. That’s fine.”

“Thank you thank you thank you,” she sang, darting into her room to grab a blanket and a pillow as he watched wordlessly by the doorframe.

The walk to his room was dead silent except for their sounds of shock when they saw the broken glass in the middle of the floor.

“I think that was from the picture frame,” Y/N said as she carefully walked into the middle of the room. Sure enough, a framed photo of her and their late dog that had been left on the wall was face down on the carpet.

“Is this when you ask me to sleep in my bed, too?” quipped Draco as he sidestepped the wreckage and sat on the opposite side of the queen mattress.

“Um...we can make a pillow barrier so we don’t touch.”

He rolled his eyes and tossed his blazer over his chair as he took off his shoes and buttonup, leaving nothing but his undershirt and dress pants. “I’m going to get changed. If you’re asleep before I get back, this is me saying goodnight.”

With that, he grabbed something from his dresser and walked into his bathroom, Y/N ripped off the picture of the shoe and placed her phone on the bedside table. Before she knew it, she was completely passed out.

It was barely dawn when she next woke up. Her head was heavy--no doubt the beginnings of a hangover--but she’d never felt more electrified.

A small huff prompted her to look to her left where Draco was just a few movements away from her. He was very clearly still sleeping, each breath leaving his lips with a whisper. His hand, draped over the covers, was millimeters away from touching her. The pink of the sunrise made his hair, now ruffled and sticking up in the side, glitter in the light. She resisted the urge to reach out and brush it away from his face.

Y/N lay there, admiring the boy sleeping next to her, until the urgency of her situation struck her. She was absolutely parched, and if she wanted to mitigate the damage she’d already done, it was in her best interest to drink a glass of water and take 4 Ibuprofen.

With a sigh, she quietly slid out from under Draco’s covers and made her way to her room, careful to avoid the glass scattered all about. She knew she had a packet of Ibuprofen somewhere in one of her dresser drawers.

The pile in her room was bigger than she remembered. She began by just throwing her clothes that had been on the ground onto her bed, sorting through everything in rough categories. When this proved unhelpful, she turned to the mini pile by her door which, to her surprise, had a few sweatshirts that definitely weren’t hers.

Draco she thought absentmindedly as she combed through the pile. Aha. A small green pouch, just like the one she kept her over the counter medications in.

Her hands struggled to undo the tie--Did she normally knot it like that?--as she admired the lining. She never noticed that the edges had silver thread stitched in.

Once she finally opened it up, she grabbed her water bottle and prepared to be faced with a variety of pill bottles as she tipped it over; however, what came out was very different.

A collection of letters. Namely, Draco’s. She knew it was wrong, but he was sleeping, and every letter looked official, stamped with a seal and etched with some sort of crest. They couldn’t have been that personal.

After a bit of bargaining, she decided to open one. If it was personal, she made the deal with herself to put it away and never speak of it again.

The parchment was heavy and clearly expensive. Her hands were shaking as she unfolded the first one, feeling guilty the whole way.

Foreign words flooded her vision. It wasn’t like the letter was written in a foreign language--but there were so many terms she didn’t understand.

Death eater...Voldemort...Crimes against the ministry...Conspiracy against Dumbledore...Hogwarts-sanctioned punishment...

She read on until a word popped out that made sense--Magic. And there it was again--Magic. Wizard. Magic.

Swallowing hard, she shoved the letter back into the envelope and opened one more. This one was much more coherent.

“Dear Mr. Draco Lucius Malfoy of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy:

It has been made apparent to us that, while serving the punishment of your accused crimes, you have unlawfully used magic (namely, a Glamour spell) in front of a muggle. Consider this to be your first strong warning. One more slip up and the Ministry will be forced to reconsider your dropped sentence of Azkaban.

Sincerely and warmly,

The Ministry of Magic -- Justice Sector”

What. What the fuck. What the fuck.

Her racing mind was put to a screeching halt at the sound of someone clearing their throat behind her.

#draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #draco x oc #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x oc #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy #draco lucius malfoy

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sukifans · 4 years

Text

PET • RI • CHOR

[n] a pleasant smell that accompanies the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather

ZUKO X OC SERIES

SUMMARY: a captured waterbender and the fire prince may sound like an unlikely pair, but kena never much cared about others’ expectations and zuko, well… he was just along for the ride

⏎ MASTERLIST // PART II « PART III » PT IV

Zuko was starting to enjoy his life in Ba Sing Se a lot more now that Kena was a part of it. She liked to visit him during his shifts to sit and do her coursework. Even though they didn’t get to talk much while they were both busy, he liked just knowing she was nearby. She radiated a calming energy from her table in the corner that seemed to make difficult customers and broken teacups a thousand times more bearable. In slower moments he found himself studying her — how her brow furrowed in concentration, the way she chewed her bottom lip, when she tapped her pen against the table as she read, and (his favorite) the small smile that her lips quirked into whenever she looked up and caught him staring at her. Uncle teased him mercilessly and almost always wore a knowing smirk, but it was okay because it made Kena laugh. Hearing her laugh after all these years was his favorite sound in the world and he tried to hear it as often as he could.

Kena liked to coax him out of the apartment when he wasn’t working. She claimed he still looked a little worse for wear after his travels and sulking inside certainly wouldn’t help with that. He complied easily, of course — she didn’t know it, but he thought he’d do pretty much anything for her. He was firmly wrapped around her little finger and, honestly, he didn’t mind all that much. That particular day they were both free and she had decided to take him up to the Middle Ring to visit one of the nicer parks. They sat in a large open field, leaning against a tree trunk in the shade of the foliage and relaying their stories from the years apart. She was trying to teach him how to weave a flower crown like she’d learned from a group of singing nomads but he was pretty miserable at it.

“Don’t laugh at me,” he muttered when he caught her grinning at his lopsided attempt that looked nothing like a crown, even by the loosest definition.

“You’re tying them together wrong. Look-“ she said. She leaned over and slowly showed him the proper knot. His brow furrowed as he watched her nimble fingers wrap and pull at the stems, resulting in a perfect two-piece chain amongst his many attempts.

“I don’t think this is salvageable, Kena.” He looked irritated, dropping it in his lap. She picked it up and pulled it over her head, setting it on her shoulders.

“Maybe not as a crown, but it makes a very lovely necklace, I think.” He smiled at her.

“That’s not saying much. You could make a rice sack look good.”

“Oh, uh... thanks, Zuko,” she responded, taken off guard by the compliment. She looked down at her hands as her cheeks warmed. They sat quietly for a bit, enjoying the gentle breeze on the warm day. She was surprised when Zuko shifted to lay down and set his head on her lap. When he noticed her wide eyes, he sat up again.

“Sorry, was that okay?”

She nodded. “Yeah, it just... surprised me, is all. Lay back down.” She put her hand on his shoulder and guided him back down. Grinning, she set the intricate crown of white and yellow flowers she’d made on top of his face. He squinted up at her. “A crown fit for a prince,” she declared. He rolled his eyes.

“I don’t think this is how crowns are meant to be worn,” he said.

“Forgive me, my liege.” She bowed her head dramatically. “Us common folk know not of such things.” She laughed when he groaned and closed his eyes, moving the flowers to sit on his chest instead. He sighed contentedly when she started playing with his hair, twisting the short strands between her fingers. Cautiously and delicately as one would handle a butterfly’s wing, she ghosted her fingertips over his scar, sending a not-unpleasant shiver down his spine. He cracked one eye open to be met with her questioning gaze.

“My father,” he said in response to her unasked question. He closed his eye again as she frowned and moved her hand back to his hair. “Uncle let me sit in on a war meeting and I spoke out of turn. I questioned one of the generals’ tactics and got challenged to an Agni Kai for my disrespect. I thought I’d be fighting the general, but since I had spoken out in the Fire Lord’s war room, it was my father. I refused to fight and begged for his mercy. He... did not forgive so easily, and- ow, Kena.” Zuko opened his eyes fully when she tugged too hard at his hair.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, dropping her hands. “I just- hmph.” She clenched her fists and sucked in a deep breath to calm herself. “I’m fine. Keep going. How did you end up in Ba Sing Se?”

“Well, I was banished after the Agni Kai. Uncle came with me — thank Agni, I think I would’ve been dead ages ago if he hadn’t — and we’ve been... traveling for the last three years. I think Uncle got sick of being on the move all the time, so now we’re here, I guess.” He carefully avoided mentioning his hunt for the Avatar. He didn’t want Kena to know that side of him because it might push her away. He desperately wanted to be the person she thought he was and he was terrified of losing her again. She was the best thing to happen to him in a very long time. Kena could sense wasn’t telling her something, but she knew better than to push him. He’d obviously been through a lot, and she wanted to be a positive force in his life. Positive forces don’t pry. He would tell her when he was ready.

“What about your mother?” She felt him tense up and she slowly began carding her fingers through his hair again, weaving small individual flowers into the inky black.

“What about her?”

“Did she try to stop the Agni Kai?”

He squeezed his eyes shut again and sighed heavily. “She left when I was eleven. I haven’t seen her in years. I don’t know why, or what happened, or even if she’s still alive, but I know she’s gone because of him.”

“And Azula?” She frowned at his scoff. “I know you two never got along, but she’s still your sister.”

“She only got worse as we got older. She was practically jumping for joy when I was banished because she could be Father’s little pet in peace without her failure of a brother around.” His voice was filled with bitterness as he spoke about his sister, mouth twisted into a deep frown.

“You’re not a failure,” Kena said gently.

“Only you and Uncle seem to think so.”

“Well, that’s because we’re smart. I’m quite proud of you, actually.”

He looked at her suspiciously. “For what?”

“For not going back. It’s very brave of you. You grew up sheltered in the palace and then were thrust out into the world with nothing after losing everything you knew. It’s admirable, how you kept going.”

Zuko felt his stomach churn uneasily. She was too confident in him, too ready to believe that he was as good and strong as he pretended to be. He felt sick lying to her but he knew he would feel much worse if she left.

When he was silent, she continued. “It’s difficult to go through all that and still make an effort to be kind.”

“I don’t think that’s how many people would describe me.”

“You’re a bit grumpy and gloomy, sure,” she laughed at his offended look, “but I think you’re very sweet.”

He ignored the warmth flooding his face. “It’s easy to be nice to a person like you.”

She smiled. “Kindness, compassion, empathy — they are all choices you have to make. If they were easy, the world wouldn’t be in a century-long war.”

“I’ve done a lot of bad things in the past.”

“We all have. We are products of our circumstances. Your whole life you’ve suffered and yet you’re still a good person.”

“I don’t think I’m a good person.”

“Well, I do. Good people make bad choices, too. Being good doesn’t mean being perfect.”

He avoided her eyes, focusing on ripping up the blades of grass. “You sound like Uncle.”

“Like I said, we’re smart.” She used the pad of her finger to smooth the lines between his brow, rubbing away his anxious look. They were silent again for a few minutes while he mulled over her words. She could tell he was deep in thought, so she just continued her ministrations on his hair while she waited for him to speak again.

When he did, his voice was soft. “My father used to say that Azula was born lucky, and I was lucky to be born.”

“What an idiotic thing to say,” she said simply. His eyes snapped up to her. He’d forgotten just how blunt she could be.

“Excuse me?”

“I think you’re luckier being you than her.”

“She’s a prodigy. She’s always been his favorite.”

“Yes, and where has that gotten her? Azula is still a child and yet she’s been driven to the brink of insanity trying to be good enough for your father but she never will be.”

“She was loved.”

“She was used. You were loved, Zuko. What about Iroh? Your mother? Me?” When he didn’t answer, she shook her head. “What your father gives her, that’s not love. You have both suffered at his hands, but you have people who love you. Azula doesn’t have love, she has fear. I feel bad for her. I hope one day she finds peace within herself. I hope she learns to love and be loved.” She propped her elbows on her knees and held her head in her hands, leaning over his face as her hair fell around them and shielded them from the rest of the world.

“You loved me?” he asked quietly, staring up into her eyes in amazement. Her heart broke a little at the shock in his expression.

“Of course I did. I’ve always loved you.”

His pulse raced at her words and he leaned up on his elbows to get closer, examining her face for signs of deception. All he saw was the gentle smile that graced her pretty mouth, the raised white scar stark against her brown skin, her soft grey eyes that beckoned him in. He could stare at her until he went crosseyed, memorizing every detail. She’d been cute when they were kids, sure, but now... he thought she might be the most breathtaking person he’d ever seen. His gaze flicked down to her lips and he thought about kissing her.

Before he could move she was shifting to stand, grabbing his hands and pulling him up to his feet as well. She propped the crown she’d made him onto the tangled nest of black hair and tiny wildflowers on top of his head before dragging him out of the shade and into the bright afternoon sun. She sighed happily before flopping down in the grass again to lay on her back, stretching languidly like a cat in the warm rays.

“Come on, fire boy; you need some sun. You still look sickly.” She patted the ground next to her and bent her other arm behind her head.

“That’s just my skin... water girl,” he muttered, rolling his eyes as he laid anyways when Kena laughed at his weak retort. She slid her hand over his and laced their fingers together. His palm radiated warmth into hers. She smiled and closed her eyes, tilting her head into the sunshine. His eyes devoured her, admiring the way the light bounced off her high cheekbones and silhouetted the slope of her nose and the gentle curve of her lips. She felt his stare and opened one eye.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

Like you love me, she wanted to say. “Like a weirdo,” she joked instead, poking her tongue out at him playfully. His huff of annoyance was betrayed by the small smile he couldn’t fully hide. They laid there for a while, just staring at each other and basking in the other’s presence with their hands still clasped between them. She scanned his face unabashedly. Anger still bubbled in her core when she saw his scar, only to be assuaged by the way his honey-colored eyes seemed to glitter and glow in the sun. There were no words in any language sufficient to describe how they felt being together again, but they didn’t need words. All that mattered was that it was the best and most content either of them had felt in years. Her heart felt remarkably full when he kept her hand squeezed tightly in his as they made their way back to the Lower Ring in the orange glow of the setting sun.

“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you the news,” he said suddenly, stopping in his tracks. She looked back at him with raised eyebrows, signaling him to continue. “Some men came by the tea house yesterday afternoon and offered Uncle the chance to start his own shop in the Upper Ring.”

She frowned. “What’s the catch?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “but they offered him total creative control and a new apartment for us. He agreed.”

“Oh,” she said hollowly, “that’s nice.” She dropped his hand and turned to keep walking, looking troubled. Surprised at her reaction, Zuko jogged to fall back in step next to her. He hadn’t meant to upset her.

“What’s wrong? I thought you’d be happy to hear that. It’s just like we used to talk about as kids, remember?” She sighed.

“I am happy. It’s just... I won’t be able to see you in the Upper Ring.”

“What? Why not?”

“People down here need a passport and approval to get up there. I don’t have either.”

“Oh,” he echoed her from earlier.

“Yeah.” They stopped outside her apartment and Kena avoided meeting his eyes. “But I am happy for you and Iroh. You both deserve better than this.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want it unless you’re with me. I can’t lose you now. Not again.”

She ignored the way her pulse jumped. “I’ll be okay.”

“I know you will, but I won’t. I- I need you, Kena,” he admitted, voice soft. “Finding you here is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Zuko...”

“Come with us,” he said suddenly, standing in front of the entrance to her building and taking both her hands in his. She sent him a sad sort of smile.

“I can’t just up and leave, even though I want to stay with you.”

“Why?”

“What about Fera? She’s been with me since my mom died. I go to school, I have friends, a job... I’ve been here for years. I had to make a life for myself.” She felt bad when the excitement fell from his face, but she couldn’t just give up the little illusion of normalcy and stability she’d built here in the Lower Ring. It was what she’d craved after a life as a political prisoner and on the run with her mother, on her own, or with Fera.

“You’re right,” he finally said. “I’m sorry, that was selfish. I understand.” She stepped forwards and hugged him, burying her face into his neck and soaking in his warmth like she’d done in the sun earlier. Though he’d tensed at first, he slowly wrapped his arms around her in return and held her tight. He’d buried his craving for friendly, loving touch after his mother left and now that she was here again and offering it so freely, so genuinely, he felt the walls he’d built around himself crumbling. It scared — no, it terrified him to sense himself becoming more vulnerable again (something that had for so long felt all too much like weakness). If he had to be weak for someone, though, he was glad it was for Kena. She was one of only two people in his life who had never hurt him or lied to him or left him (she didn’t leave him, he’d rationalized long ago; she’d been taken away).

“You can still come see me down here,” she mumbled into his skin. “People of the Upper Ring can travel as they please.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that. I’ll come see you every day, even if it’s just for a little while.”

“Zuko, you don’t have to-“

“I know, but I want to. I don’t want to go another day without seeing you ever again.”

“So dramatic.” She rolled her eyes as she pulled back but beyond her teasing tone he could sense her gratitude.

“I’ve been told,” he chuckled.

“I’ll miss seeing you at Pao’s, though. You always looked so cute in your apron.”

His face went crimson. “I am not cute,” he muttered as she giggled.

“Are you hungry? You can come up for dinner, if you’d like.”

“I promised Uncle I’d help him make roast duck tonight to celebrate the new shop. Thanks, though. Another night,” he said as he stepped back from her. She smiled.

“Sure. I’ll see you tomorrow, then. I want to come by in the morning to see you and Iroh off before you move up the social ladder.”

He nodded in agreement and started to leave, but not before she grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him close again to kiss his cheek. She giggled when he flushed again, just as red as the day he gave her that fire lily. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, then mumbled something about seeing her tomorrow and hurried away as she laughed. She loved how easy it still was to get him flustered.

A sense of guilt gnawed away at his stomach as he walked back to his apartment. He felt bad about lying to her again, but he couldn’t exactly mention his plan to steal the sky bison as a means to capture the Avatar without admitting what he’d done over the last few years. He felt so conflicted as the two sides of him tore further apart — the side that wanted to be who Kena and Iroh thought him to be, and the side that still wanted to prove everyone wrong by bringing the Avatar back to the Fire Nation. Maybe he could make Kena understand; maybe she’d even go back with him. If he fulfilled his destiny, surely his father would let her stay.

When Kena made her way up to Zuko and Iroh’s apartment early the next morning, she found it already deserted. She frowned as she left, wandering into the street outside. Had she missed them already? Did they leave the night before for some reason? She couldn’t imagine why Zuko would lie to her about something so silly. All she wanted was to say goodbye, whether or not they were actually moving to the Upper Ring.

She walked to Pao’s and asked if he had seen them. At the mention of “Mushi,” the man went into a long-winded spiel about loyalty and betrayal that left her regretting her decision to ask. As politely as she could manage, she excused herself and left the premises. She desperately wished she could talk openly to someone about everything going on. At this point, she’d made up so many fake identities and backstories that it was sometimes hard to keep straight what was real and what was false, and who could know what about her various personas. At one point she’d considered writing it all down somewhere but that would be difficult to explain should anyone stumble across it. Only Fera knew what was happening, and even she was still in the dark about some things. Feeling a familiar sting of loneliness, Kena resigned herself to returning home to wait for Fera to get back from work so she could vent for a while.

Iroh sat by Zuko’s side for the entirety of the day, unable to sleep despite being awake through the night at Lake Logai. He watched his nephew twitch and sweat in his feverish dream state, pressing cloths soaked in cool water to his forehead through the hours. He could hardly even enjoy his tea as he waited for the prince to awaken. Every time his breathing changed, the older man would sit up at attention, watching with baited breath. It now neared sunset, and Zuko had still not opened his eyes.

Watching the sky change color through the window, he thought about rumors he had heard amongst the peoples of the Lower Ring about a benign spirit that visited at night. If one left a white candle burning in the window with a strip of blue cloth hung nearby, she was said to appear and heal the sick and injured. The people called her Tui’s Daughter. The stories reminded him vaguely of the legend of the Painted Lady from the Fire Nation. As he lit the candle, he hoped she would happen through the Upper Ring this night. Perhaps a visit from a spirit is exactly what the prince needed to help along his inner turmoil.

No matter what she did, Kena seemed entirely unable to fall asleep. She tossed and turned in her cot for what seemed like hours to no avail. Something still felt wrong about Zuko’s sudden disappearance, even after talking with Fera about how flaky and dishonest men could be. It was like an itch in the back of her skull that she couldn’t scratch and it her made her antsy and restless. She sighed in resolution and abandoned her attempts at sleep to dress in the bright moonlight pouring in through the window. She had to know he was alright, even if that meant he’d abandoned her.

As she came to the wall that closed off the Upper Ring, she kept to the shadows. The area was crawling with guards and surely Dai Li agents to keep the elite of Ba Sing Se secure and comfortable. She’d snuck into the Upper Ring only once before, and it was the closest she’d ever been to getting caught. She hoped the blind spot that opened during the shift rotation hadn’t been remedied yet, otherwise she’d have to take more drastic measures. Patiently, she waited for the opening.

The spirits must’ve been on her side that night because she was able to slip through into the Upper Ring with relative ease. That, or the Dai Li were occupied elsewhere. Whatever it was she was happy for it because now she was running through the pristine empty streets, searching for some sort of indication of where Zuko and Iroh may be. She didn’t know exactly what it was she was looking for, but her gut told her she’d know when she found it.

A flicker in her peripheral caught her eye and she whipped her head around. A few buildings away, a white candle burned in a window on one of the upper floors. She had to admit she was curious; The people of the Upper Ring rarely called on Tui’s Daughter because they could afford the best doctors Ba Sing Se had to offer. The spirit tended to stay in the poorer areas, especially in the refugee ghettos, because they needed her the most. Despite her desperation to find her friend, she moved towards the apartment with the candle.

Iroh immediately tensed when he heard a creak from the stairs leading up to their apartment. He hoped it was the spirit, but was ready to defend himself if need be. He hid himself from sight when the knob rattled and the front door slowly cracked open. Relief flooded his body when he saw the intruder donned a long, flowing white dress and a black smiling koi mask exactly as the rumors had described.

“Thank you for coming,” Iroh said as he emerged from his hiding spot. “My nephew is very ill, but I’m afraid it is not a natural sickness.”

The spirit had jumped into a defensive position when he spoke. Now that they stood facing each other in full view, she lowered her hands. As he looked on, the realization dawned that this was no spirit at all.

“Iroh?” the woman whispered and the old man hummed thoughtfully.

“I’ll admit I was doubtful about the rumors, but I can say I never expected you to be Tui’s Daughter.” Iroh moved closer and bowed his head in greeting. She ripped her mask off to reveal her face and Iroh smiled when he recognized her. “Hello, Kena.”

A/N: was originally going to end this at crossroads but this is long enough and also seems like a good stopping point for now. thank you all for the lovely response to the last part, yall made my heart uwu and i hope you liked this one just as much!

TAGS: @beifongsss @the-lva-way @lammello @llorom6nnic @idkdude776 @aangsupremacy @royahllty @mamooska8 @bucky-blogs @youneedmemanidonotneedyou @eridanuswave @rosetheshapeshifter @fantasticchaoticwho @bwndito @dancerslovelife @justab-eautifulmess @whalerus

#petrichor #mine #atla #avatar the last airbender #atla fic #atla fanfic #zuko #prince zuko #zuko x oc #prince zuko x oc #atla zuko #zuko fanfic #avatar fic #zuko fic #zuko x reader #prince zuko x reader #the last airbender

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ultraintrovertedgryffindor · 4 years

Text

Don’t Leave - Cardinal Copia (Papa Emeritus IV)

This one is also based on dream I had.

My dream was that I was part of the church/ministry/clergy/whatthefuckever and I had to move to either France or Virginia (idk). I didn’t wanna go obviously and told Copia about it. I don’t remember him having that much of a reaction lol. But for the sake of fiction, he did. I moved away in my dream unfortunately, but I’ll make this have a happy ending.😇

Enjoy my subconscious!

~~~~~~~~~~

Everyone in the church gasped. Some cried out, some sobbed. But it was most of the same. The news had came.

Papa Nihil was dead.

We were already accepting the new Papa Emeritus the 4th. Everyone loved the Cardinal anyway. But everyone loved Papa Nihil, he was a soft spot for most people. Some members of the church even knew him when he was the first to run the church.

It was a sad day.

On top of that, I had just found out this morning that my parents and I were to move to a different state.

It seemed like it was going to be a week full of bad days.

I tried not to sob when I got dressed for mass this morning. I had no idea what I’d do without this church. It was like a second home to me.

I’d volunteer whenever I could to help the Ministry out. I’m so active in the church that even the Ghouls from the band project knew me! I would’ve become a true member of the church if it wasn’t for my parents.

It’s not like they didn’t approve, but they just needed me.

I was their only child. I wouldn’t want them to think I was leaving them. I couldn’t.

On the other hand, the Ministry has reached out to me and asked if I wanted to become a Sister of Sin multiple times. They love my enthusiasm and think I have the potential to so even more. Sister Imperator actually thinks very highly of me. And Papa Emeritus III, when he was alive, actually sought me out to see if I wanted to join the band (and maybe for other reasons of his own).

I wanted to...I really wanted to. It was even harder to turn down the Cardinal when he asked as well. I just knew my parents needed me.

Coming to this mass knowing it would be my last really hurt, then hearing the news about Nihil...I don’t know how I’ll be able to tell everyone that I have to leave.

After the service, I saw Sister Imperator in the distance, hugging a few people. They were probably giving her their condolences since everyone knew how much they cared for each other.

I trudged over to her sorrowfully, almost hoping that she would be too busy to talk to me. But the universe just had it out for me today, and she quickly noticed how pitiful I looked.

She quickly brought me into a loving embrace, much like a mother’s. I was quickly brought to tears when I thought that this would probably be the last hugging Sister.

“I’m so sorry, Sister.” I cried.

It had a double meaning for me, obviously. I was so sorry about Papa Nihil dying, but I was sorry about having to leave. But she didn’t know the other meaning yet.

“He lived a good life, Y/N.” She whispered, rubbing my back soothingly.

I pulled away from her and scratched the back of my head nervously, avoiding her eyes.

She sighed. “That’s not the only reason you’re sorry. What’s happened?”

“I’m...I’m moving away.” I choked out. Sister Imperator immediately frowned and gave me a sad look. “My parents told me this morning. We leave in two days.”

She quickly pulled me back into a hug. I held on tightly, trying to keep myself from breaking down in front of everyone. “Have you told Cardinal yet?”

I froze. That was the thing I was dreading the most...

I shook my head no and I could feel her loosing her grip on me. She pulled away from the hug, tears brimming her eyes, making me feel guilty. “He’s going to be so devastated. He really has taken a liking to you, dear.” She said, making me feel even more guilty.

I sighed. “I know...it’s just so hard knowing that he’ll be so sad.” I wiped a stray tear that was rolling down my cheek.

Sister brought her hand up and caressed my cheek, smiling sadly. “It has to be done, sweetie. Ripping off the band-aid.”

I nodded and placed my hand above hers. She quickly pointed out Cardinal Copia, now named Papa Emeritus IV, in the group of people and encouraged me to walk over to him.

I nervously approached him, seeing his eyes brighten with joy as he noticed me.

Damn...

“Hey, Cop- uh, Papa.” I stutter. I always called him Copia, but now he’s much more higher up now, taking on the role of Papa Emeritus now.

Copia smiled and shook his head slightly. “You don’t have to he so formal with me, dolcezza. Just because I’m Papa now doesn’t mean you have to call me that.” He told me in his endearing Italian accent.

Oh lucifer, I’m gonna miss him...

“I, uh, need to talk to you.” I said, and he gestured for me to continue speaking. But I looked around nervously at all the people close by, and he quickly realized that I meant in private.

He guided me over to the corner of the room, away from the group. “Now, what is it, cara mia?”

Come on, Y/N. Just like ripping off a band-aid...

“Copia...I’m moving away...in two days.”

My words hung in the air with a bitter silence. Nervousness filled me to the brim when he looked like he didn’t even hear me at first, so afraid that I’d have to repeat myself. The nervousness quickly turned into anxiety when his face finally contorted from shock to a frown. He didn’t say anything. Not even a sigh of displeasure, but his eyes never met mine. But if they did, they would be filled with heartache.

I was stunned into silence when Copia quickly walked off, not even saying so much as a goodbye. He pushed past all the people (and Ghouls), heading to his new office in the church.

“Y/N?” A warm hand was placed on my shoulder, Sister’s hand.

“He didn’t even say anything. He just...left.” I reached up and covered my mouth to muffle the hiccups caused by trying not to cry this whole morning, but a few escaped the sound barrier that my hand caused and reached Sister’s ears.

“Go find him.”

I turned around and looked at Sister Imperator in shock. “Find him? He couldn’t even look at me!”

“He’s in shock, dear. He probably just needs a few minutes to process it. Go to his office after everyone leaves. That’ll be enough time to mull his over. And if he won’t see you, I’ll go into that silly office of his and smack him in the head.”

I laugh tearfully. I love this woman. “Okay.” I agreed.

“Good.” She nodded. “Now, you might want to go say goodbye to everyone else.”

I sigh and look over to the group of people (+Ghouls) that I’ve made friends with and grew to care about for years now. This won’t be easy either...

After about a half hour of goodbyes, hugs, and more tears (and some sorrowful mewling from some of the Ghouls), everyone started to trickle off. Heading back home, going about their lives the same way it’s always been for them.

When I get home, I’ll have to start packing my life away into cardboard boxes.

I shook the thought away quickly.

It was eerily quiet in the church now the everyone headed out. It was time for me to confront Copia...again.

I walked out of the chapel and into the great foyer of the church, looking up to see the stained glass murals of all the previous Papas embedded into the wall. The sun shining on the glass from the outside making the hall glow in certain colors of the memorial pieces.

I’m gonna miss this place.

I reach the end of the hall where Copia’s office was. I quietly sigh and rap my knuckles against the wooden door. I heard a faint, “Who is it?”

“Copia...it’s me.”

There was no response, but I waited at the door.

“I want to talk to you, Copia...please.” I almost whined, leaning my head against the door.

I quickly took a couple steps back when I started to hear footsteps approach, quickly opening the door to reveal Copia. He was out of his Anti-pope robes and into his regular suit, his Papa paint almost completely off, but it still looked smudged in places.

If only he used the makeup remover wipes I brought him...

I stepped into the office, turned around and closed the door. Turning back, Copia was back at his desk. He was sitting on the desk top, his right leg swinging slightly, looking at me expectantly. “Well?” He said.

“Copia, I-”

“It’s Papa.” He deadpanned.

I sighed in frustration. “I never wanted this to happen, Copia.”

“Then why? Why are you choosing to move?”

“I...” I tried holding back tears, making my eyes burn. “It’s my parents...”

“Your parents are making you move?” He laughed bitterly. “I thought you were a grown woman who could make decisions for herself?”

I looked down, gravity forcing the tears out of my eyes, landing on the floor with muted thud.

I heard Copia sigh. The desk creaked slightly when he stood up from it, hearing his footsteps get closer until he was right in front of me.

He tucked his pointer finger under my chin and gently raised my head, making me look into his eyes that seemed regretful.

“Why are you moving, cara mia?” He asked softly.

“I don’t want my parents to think I abandoned them.” I whimpered.

“Oh, mia dolce, your parents aren’t going to think you abandoned them if you wanted to stay.” Copia cooed, now caressed my hair. “All the times you said you couldn’t join us, was it because of your parents?”

I reluctantly nodded. “They...they need me.”

“Come on.” Copia suddenly started pulling me towards the office telephone. “Call them. Tell them what you really feel.”

I blushed and started panicking. “W-what? N-no! I can’t do that!”

He sighed, and started dialing my parents’ phone number. “I know you parents, cara mia. They’ll understand. Trust me.” He said.

I was panicked as the phone rang, but seeing how confident Copia was about my parents made me feel a little less stressed. Him holding my hand the entire time helped too.

“Hello?” The cheery voice of my mom answered.

“M-mom?” My voice trembled.

“Oh hi, dear! We were just packing! Are you still at the church?”

I sigh, here goes. “Mom, I...I don’t want to move. I want to stay here. I love it here so much, and...I want to join the church! I want to become a member...are you mad?”

I flinched when my mom laughed loudly into the phone, making me furrow my eyebrows. “Honey, I was wondering when you were gonna break!”

“W-what?”

“You don’t think I know my own child? I knew you were going to stay at that church. Your father and I actually made a bet to see how long you’d put up with all this moving shit!” She laughed again.

“Wait...so, you’re not mad?” I asked, still shocked.

“Of course not, sweetie! I know how much that church makes you happy. All we want is for you to be happy, hon.”

“I thought you needed me.”

“Oh sweetheart, we’ll always need you. But if you’re happy, then we’re happy. We knew you weren’t gonna stay with us forever! You have a life too, as well as us. Plus, we’re not 90 year old people who need someone to carry us every time we need to take a shit! We can take care of ourselves.”

I looked over to Copia with a grin, and he smiled back softly and mouthed, “I told you so.”

“Now, come home and help us pack up all out shit!” My mom said with a laugh and hung up.

As soon as she hung up, I squealed in joy and jumped into Copia’s arms. He staggered back by sudden force of my happiness, but he laughed breathlessly. “Didn’t I say to trust me?” He said as he pulled away, looking at me with a goofy grin.

I don’t know what came over me, but I reached out and brought his face down to mine, shocking him still when I pushed my lips up against his.

I quickly realized what I was doing and pulled away. “Uh...I’m so sorry! I don’t-”

Copia cut me off mid-sentence, bringing me into another spur of the moment kiss.

I immediately relaxed and reciprocated his kiss, reaching up to tangle my fingers in his slicked back hair and him bringing his arms to wrap around my waist to pull me closer. I smile into the kiss, feeling his mustache tickle at my sensitive skin.

This moment was perfect.

We both pulled away. The heat of moment taking our breath away, making us both take deep inhales to get oxygen rushing to the brain.

“Cara mia, I’ve waited for this moment for so long.” Copia smiled.

I let him know that I felt the same way by giving him another peck on the lips. “Looks like you’re stuck with me from now on.” I grinned.

“That is not something to feel bad about, mia dolce.”

“Not at all.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Don’t really know how churches of Satan go about having services if they even have them, but in my dream we were in a regular looking church soooo...

What I actually saw in my dream: Copia not having a reaction to me leaving (what a heartless bastard) and the stained glass murals to the Papas.

#the band ghost #ghost band fanfiction #cardinal copia #cardinal copia fanfiction #i love my dreams

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frillshark-fr · 4 years

Note

How do you get people to always buy your dragons? Genuine question

i was gonna say something like “haha i have no fucking clue” but that would be a lie i think about this a lot actually so i might have some insights i’ve been breeding dragons as my primary activity on FR since i started playing FR (in 2014...) and people have only started actually buying dragons from me consistently like, 5-6 months ago, despite 2-3 attempts at running a genuine hatchery onsite that always died due to lack of interest & not really being worth the effort.

so ive thought a lot about what the hell is happening now and why my dragons are suddenly consistently selling and I think ive come down to these being the main points of advice i can give: 1. make friends! be friendly! don’t be weird! be a cool and fun person to interact with! 2. post consistently. post your dragons consistently. post about other stuff consistently. just be an active member of the community 3. POST YOUR SHIT IN THE “#FLIGHT RISING” TAG. THIS IS PROBABLY THE ONLY TRUELY HELPFUL THING I SAY IN THIS POST 4. make pairs that are sexy as hell and be openly proud of them. make dragons and pairs that you like, not what you think will necessarily sell. people can tell when you like stuff and being genuinely passionate about something, whatever the fuck it is, will get other people passionate as well longer versions/explanations under the cut because man this got a mile long. i wasn’t kidding when i said i think about this a lot and i am so sorry if you wanted something concise and useful

1. to be a little glib. i am mutuals/friends with more clout in the FR community than I do kjdshfdsfdhjhkfdf shoutout to everyone who draws their dragons really good on a regular basis because i am riding on your coattails to sell my dragons. i love you this was never my intent, obviously! DO NOT BEFRIEND PEOPLE BECAUSE YOU THINK YOU WILL GET STUFF FROM THEM IT’S JUST A REALLY BAD THING TO DO TO PEOPLE!!! i wouldn’t be friends w/ people if i didn’t genuinely like and get along with them! no amount of pixel cash is worth putting up with people you dont like or abusing people you admire! but i’d also somehow feel wrong to just... neglect mentioning this factor. idk it’s probably a self-esteem thing sjdkgfhdsf i just Don’t feel like my #success has been totally out of my own effort because its not like im #hustling or whatever i just posted dragons and stuff happened

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2. being consistent! just. posting consistently! posting Every Hatchling I Have and Talking About Them On Tumblr! Once I had a couple nests just sell super fast likely due to aforementioned clout, i was emboldened to just post more of my nests more often and I swear this has more effect than anything else. i just needed the self-esteem boost to Start Doing That posting consistently makes ppl follow u for ur content which gets even more people to look at your dragons which gets more people to buy your dragons.

2a. Also just post a lot in general, even if you aren’t necessarily posting about your dragons for sale. it definitely helps! just be friendly and active and people will come

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3. post your shit in the tag. not in “#dragon-sales” or “#fr-dragon-sales” or anything weird like that because I don’t know if anyone actually looks at those, but people definitely browse “#flight rising”. no matter how many followers you have, more people will see your content if you post it in #flight rising than if you just chuck it into the void.

3a. however! do not put links into the post if you want it to actually show up in the tag. tumblr is cool in that it doesn’t actually matter that much when you post something, the same way it really matters on twitter bc twitter has algorithms that decide for you what it thinks you want to be seeing whereas tumblr just shows you everything in chronological order. if you post something into the tag at 1am... it will still be there at 2pm when people log on and start scrolling.

the only thing tumblr seems to consistently hide from a tag (and possibly a dashboard, but idk) are posts with links in them, as a half-assed attempt to limit spam. instead of linking to your sales tab/to the dragons directly in the post, reblog it with the links instead. to reduce latency between a post going up and the links being available, i type out the links in the initial post, cut them, post the thing into the tag, then very quickly reblog, paste the links, and post the reblog jdhfsdf. i don’t know if that benefits anything really? but it can sometimes take me a while to type links, so if i posted, pressed reblog, typed up all the links, then posted, it’d be like ~15 minutes where someone may see the post, think “oh i would like to buy those dragons”, then can’t find the link, think “oh well, i will just find it later”, scroll on, and just... completely forget about it. so uh. go quick?

3b. the armchair sociologist in me also thinks self-reblogging has the added benefit of like... you know how people are more likely to tip a barista when a dollar is already in the tip jar? or how people are more likely to take one of those little tabs on a flyer if one of them is already missing? i think that works with notes, too. i don’t know why i think that or why it happens i just swear once a post gets 1 note, suddenly it gets Even More Notes, and if it doesn’t get any notes for a while it will sit at 0 notes until the end of time. so giving yourself 1 obligatory note makes people more likely to interact. i think

-----

4. all of these are hard to quantify but this one is especially so: have cool and unique dragons. make your pairs sexy as hell. don’t put all your eggs (hah) into the one basket of selling dragons that are technically “popular”. we have all seen triple white/triple obsidian/triple orca/triple any other popular colors and cherub/pere/stained or wasp/bee/glim pthahlos or whatever. they’re pretty! we get it! but everyone has had one and everyone has had those pairs and market for dragons like that can be super oversaturated. try to break free from that and sell dragons that people can only get from you. I can’t tell you what to do though bc that rly depends on you. make pairs that you find exciting or interesting and people will feel that. i have a very specific theme and aesthetic that i don’t feel like is especially common on FR and i am genuinely very enthusiastic about it. marine shit is my Thing:tm: both on and off FR and dragons are one of my many ways of expressing that if you have a Thing:tm:, either some fr-centric aesthetic (like being super into plague or earth or light or something) or something more general (such as any of the -punks or -cores)... just fuckin roll with it honestly. if you’re goth? make got h dragons. like scene stuff that looks straight out of a middle school in 2010? rock that hot-topic lair. outdoorsey type? make dragons that look like you’d meet them on a hike in the woods. it really works with anything! people can tell when you really love something and i know that seeing someone really love something, even if it’s not necessarily MY thing, makes me really excited too!!

4a. never show fear. people can smell fear. never be like “well this one isn’t that good” because suddenly now you’ve planted the idea that it’s ugly in other people’s heads when they may have really liked it had you not accidentally suggested to them that it’s an ugly dragon. people are EXTREMELY suggestible to even VERY minor cues so be always a little bit bolder than you think you should be you’d be surprised at how many times ive been like “eh, this one’s kind of a dud, i’ll probably have to exalt this one when the auction expires” and then that hatchling is the first to sell. never ever ever ever decide what other people like for them. always act like your dragons are the hottest shit in all the land and Believe It. this is what people mean when they say “fake it till you make it”

- 4b. also, idk if it’s true of everyone but it’s really off-putting to see someone having serious pity-parties for themselves, on sales posts or otherwise. ive had bad experiences with people who are uncomfortably quick to self-depreciate (because they were using their genuine self-hatred to manipulate me or my friends), so i might be a little more trigger-happy about avoiding this behavior than others, but don’t weaponize your sadness to guilt people into doing what you want. it’s really not cool.

-----

okay i think that’s my entire manifesto on how i do dragon selling. anon i am so sorry im sure you were expecting like “believe in yourself :)” and here i am dissecting dragon selling like it’s a frog in a science class

edit: AFTER ALL THAT I STILL THOUGHT OF ONE MORE THING. It’s not really a Point, just a Reminder:

i don’t post about all the times i have to exalt dragons that don’t sell. you are seeing me being very selective about what i post. you dont sit and stare at my lair or click through offspring lists or check old sales posts. there are a lot of times where someone just doesn’t sell. even now when i’m selling stuff pretty consistently i will still sometimes have dragons that don’t sell for seemingly no reason. even dragons I think are sure to sell will sometimes just... not. and that’s ok! you gotta just be.. ok with that. it’s par for the course. i typically list dragons for 7 days on the AH, give them a couple more days after their auction expires (partially because i forget, partially to give them a grace period for people to pm/ask me about them), and then exalt them after that point. w/ some dragons that i don’t think got a fair shake for one reason or another (such as the sales post not showing up in the tag or something) i do a little clearance (like the halloween dragons i recently posted) but for the most part if they don’t sell, i just exalt them. 90% of the time i don’t even bother to level them up i just press the exalt button and call it a day. it’s fine

#if anyone is interested i can make a post about my process for finding new dragon pairs?#i’d just include it here but this post is long enough as it is oo;;#Anonymous

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justimajin · 4 years

Text

One Bad Case of the Jeon Sniffles

⇢ Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

⇢ Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst

↳ Doctor/Surgeon AU, Sequel to the Doctor Blues Universe - read here first!

⇢ Words: 15.5k

⇢ Warnings: jungkook being a scared bunny & jimin actually needing to chill (as always)

⇢ Summary: Jeon Jungkook is a very capable individual; he’s spent years and years studying and training for his role as a doctor, noted to be one of youngest candidates to take on the job, as well as having an innate caring need inside him to see his patients well and healthy. Although there’s no underestimating his ability to work within a hospital, it goes without being said that the doctor isn’t as talented with some other area’s of his life - and it’s something that the young doctor can no longer run away from after one surprise encounter.

⇢ A/N: This story is going to feature two Y/N’s because it is a sequel, but to avoid any confusion both characters are referred to as separate people.

The dusty white hospital doors creak open once more, this time being pleasantly greeted with a different pathway. Long gone are days filled with resentment and outrage, hours consumed with electric tension between two sets of stern eyes and remains of faint bickering that once echoed through the familiar walls.

Instead, the hallway begins to gradually narrow down onto a fresh new road – one that has heavy stomps beating against the solid tiled ground, the young doctor pushing his falling bangs aside swiftly.

The knuckles of his hands are fisted, a plastic board becoming adorned with multiple markings when his signature meets every single one of the fluttering pages with a sharp swipe. He occasionally pauses his scribbling, focused eyes tracing along with the new patients being transferred into his wards.

His eyes fall onto one of them, particularly the way said patient was battling through a prickling chain of hoarse coughs.

The board is shifted underneath one of his arms, a stethoscope already being unlooped from his neck and by his side when he places a warm hand on the elderly woman’s shaking back. Although there’s a prominent crease lining between his brows and his hunched shoulders droop down, there’s a smile on his lips when he requests one of the nurses for a specific medication.

Taking a step back, he quietly observes the relief meeting the woman’s expression when the nurse hands her the medicine he has recommended, eyes already brimming with gratitude. The smile on his lips only seems to grow with every passing minute, only withering when he hears a thunderous clap behind him.

Eyes serious and shoulders tensing immediately, it dissolves away when his vision comes into contact with a familiar doctor.

“Well done, well done!” The man exclaims, walking over to him and circling an arm around his neck. Cries of hysteria begin to escape him as he clutches onto his chest, his shirt being crumpled in the process, “My Jungkookie has grown up so well!”

He shakes his head at the comment, but there’s a small smirk contained on his lips that he can’t seem to hide.

“I guess you can say it was because I was trained by the best.”

The man’s eyes instantly enlarge, practically bulging out of his eye sockets when he races over to another doctor, blonde locks falling onto his eyes when he adjusts an IV, “Yoongi! Yoongi! Did you hear that?!” His arms are outstretched, a giant ecstatic grin surfacing, “He said he was trained by the best.”

The other man chuckles, standing up straight as he watches his patient’s monitor, “By what? The best lunatic?” Offense crosses the man’s delicate features and Yoongi devilishly chuckles, “Oh right, he meant doctor. My bad.”

The black-haired doctor throws his hands up, seemingly letting out a tantrum while low chuckles escape the blonde doctor, completely ignoring him as he focuses back onto his work.

Jungkook can only softly smile at the display from afar, wondering how despite having this brand-new role assigned to him, there were some things that never changed within the hospital walls.

“Uh…e-excuse me?”

His head immediately snaps back, eyes lined with black circles on full alert until he realizes that the voice wasn’t coming near him, but actually below him.

His eyes widen and he’s instantly bending down, coming into eye level contact with the young girl that teeter tooters on her feet. A pained expression is on her features, contorted when she faintly touches her arm.

“Sit down on that chair and I’ll have a look at it.” He points over to the side and the girl gratefully nods, following his instructions.

Grabbing his clipboard, he quickly continues the rest of his reports before he’s soon striding over, examining the girl’s arm hastily when he can see her eyes knitted in discomfort.

He lets go of her arm, scribbling down on his board, “The bone is healing well but the muscle seems to be irritated as a result.” His voice changes, turning into a much more soothing tone compared to usual, “I can give you something to feel better though. Does that sound okay?”

The girl eagerly nods and Jungkook gives her a warm smile, assisting her up from the chair when he mumbles some quick instructions to another nurse.

However, the moment she leaves, Jungkook slumps down. A lengthy drawn out sigh escapes his lips and he shuts his dry eyes for a moment that have been kept wide awake for far too long. When he opens them again, they drift over to the two doctors also in the same ward as him.

He truly doesn’t know what’s worse – the fact that he was running on only two hours of sleep and still had more paperwork to file along with new patients to attend or the fact that the two doctors near him were getting the job done faster than he was and still had the energy to talk to one another.

Another sigh escapes him; this time even deeper as he rubs the sore lids of his eyes. He sinks back into the chair, almost melting into it as he savours the spare time he has for once.

In a way, he knows. He knows that this is what he wants, this is what he trained for, what he spent countless hours studying for and prepared endlessly day and night. There is no other place he rather be at and he just knows – knows that no matter how difficult, this is what his life is to become.

But why was it getting harder and harder to breathe as time went by?

He immediately retracts, as if slipping away from the whole idea itself. Head pushed back, he instead decides to drown his ears with the roaring banter coming from the corner of the room.

“Y/N and Taehyung still haven’t come back?”

“Nope! They left us all here Yoongi, I’m telling you, they jumped ship!”

“Well Daegu’s pretty far…and they needed some time off anyways…”

“Do you miss them~”

“No.”

“You miss them~ Yoongi you misssss them~”

“Yah Park Jimin! Get off of me!”

Dimples form when a small smile crosses his lips, knowing that if he had merely turned his head to the corner slightly he would get the perfect view of Jimin suffocating a protesting Yoongi into a hug.

Maybe this was how it was supposed to feel, maybe at the end of the day he knows he still has them.

Another sigh escapes him and he leans further back into his chair, the tiredness seeping into his bones when his shoulders begin to relax and his mind falls clear.

“DR. JEON!”

He jolts up as if he’s been electrocuted, blurry eyes hurriedly searching around for the source of distress only to be greeted with nothing. Suddenly two hands are on his arm, shaking him relentlessly when he scatters out of the chair.

“A patient!” Jisoo, his intern quickly says, words tumbling out of her lips as she persistently drags him over, “There’s an unconscious patient with a severe head injury!”

He blinks, his vision sluggishly descending into focus until it all snaps in and soon he’s tugging on his white coat, straightening himself up as he matches up with Jisoo’s rushed steps.

A metal stretcher greets his eyes and he takes his stethoscope out in a flash, measuring the breathing and heart rate of the collapsed man.

“I need an oxygen mask and an IV right now.” He sternly states and Jisoo nods, dashing over to grab him what he needs.

As she does so, he starts to examine the patients head, looking for any points of serious bone breakage or muscle rupture. Thankfully enough, he lets out an exhale when neither seems to have occurred and at most, his suspicions are that the injury must have just caused a minor concussion – in which the impending trauma to the brain must have knocked the man out of consciousness.

He’ll be okay and his symptoms can be managed, Jungkook mentally notes down to himself, his eyes searching around for hopefully his returning intern. Time seems to tick by at a snail’s speed when his gaze eventually falls down, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot.

He stares down at the man, a frown lining his lips when he takes in the shaggy brown hair and long lashes, a noticeable mole right beneath his eye. His frown only intensifies, brows creasing when the man’s features seem distinctly similar to ones he hasn’t seen for quite a while, but he shakes it off when this man is too lean and much taller for that to make any sense.

He’s seen a dozen of patients today and he’s barely gotten a decent minute of sleep, there was no way possible–

A loud groan breaks his thoughts and his shoulders instinctively flinch when the sound comes from the man currently lying down on the stretcher. Turning when he hears the sheets shuffle, he notices the man’s eyes are now wide open yet strange – as if they were stuck in a dazed, confused state.

“You’re in the hospital.” Jungkook blurts out, being too aware of a patient’s weary position after a going through a concussion, “You were brought here because of a head injury.”

The man blinks again, this time sitting up straight as Jungkook shoots out an arm, bringing it around his back so he doesn’t fall down. However, instead of trying to focus back onto his surroundings like many patients do, the man blatantly stares at him.

His eyes narrow, mouth falling agape when he whispers, “J-Jungkook?”

The young doctor freezes; eyes enlarging until they fall across on the man’s confused face, like he was beginning to connect the scattered dots.

Before Jungkook can even say anything, Jisoo comes hurriedly running along, an oxygen mask and IV in hand. “Dr. Jeon!”

“Thank you Jisoo, I don’t think we’ll need the oxygen mask anymore but I’ll take this.” He reaches out for the long IV, dragging the white monitor with it, “It’ll sting but I’ll be quick.”

Jungkook leans down, eyes focused yet his hands waver a bit when the man continues to stare at him, his surprised eyes soon sinking down into a warm tone.

“Dr. Jeon, huh?”

The words hold a layer of amusement within them and Jungkook can’t contain his smile, eyes looking up in confirmation when the IV is hooked up.

“To be honest, I’m still not used to the sound of it.”

“So it’s recent?” There’s a wide grin on the man’s face and from a distance, Jisoo watches the entire interaction with her own eyes. She can’t deny the change in the air, something that casually dips away from professionalism and into something else entirely.

“Do you two know each other?”

They both turn at the exact same time to stare at her, but the man next to Jungkook simply laughs.

“You’ve never talked about me before? I’m hurt Jungkook, really.”

“Well nothing stupid ever came up into conversation.” Jungkook mumbles and it earns him a pout from the man, to which Jungkook just chuckles at, “This is Kim Yugyeom, Jisoo. One of my old friends from college.”

“Back in our glory days.” Yugyeom raises his fist, but winces when he does.

“Don’t try to move too much.” Jungkook immediately says, gesturing to Jisoo to bring the necessary paperwork in to admit his friend. She obliges, understanding that leaving would also give the two some privacy. “What do you do to yourself this time?”

“Why do you always assume I did something?” Jungkook raises an eyebrow at him, “Okay maybe it really was me this time, but it wasn’t directly my faul–“

“What happened Yugyeom?”

“Bambam threw a ball at me and I couldn’t catch it in time.”

Jungkook doesn’t mean to, but soon his eyes are crinkling and the laughter is erupting out of him.

“Don’t laugh at that! It seriously hurt!” He rubs his head, scrunching up his features at the soreness.

Jungkook wipes away the water from his eyes, straightening himself up, “Glad to see you still suck at basketball.”

“I wouldn’t suck so much if someone wasn’t studying all the damn time and actually came out to practice with me.” Yugyeom furrows his brows, eyes latching onto the young doctor before they begin to roam around, “I can’t believe this is where you ended up…”

Jungkook hums, looking around and for a moment, he feels a sense of pride swell up deep inside him. Even though he had been only working in the hospital for a short period of time, the place already feels like a second home to him.

“It’s pretty nice.” Yugyeom smiles, “How’s it like working here?”

Jungkook pursues his lips, “Not bad, I usually work long hours so I’m here most of the time.”

“Long hours? How long?”

“If I’m lucky, not the whole day.”

Yugyeom pauses, gawking at Jungkook in disbelief, “Even through the night?”

“Even through the night.” Jungkook tiredly replies and for a split second, he can immediately recognize the look of pity his friend is shooting him. “Don’t worry, I chose this.”

“Yeah but is this all you ever do?” Yugyeom brings his arm to his head and pouts when Jungkook tugs it down, frowning as he makes sure the IV is still in place, “Geez Jungkook, you need to stop working so much all the time.”

“Well we’re currently understaffed so for now it’s an exceptio–“

“No dude.” He pushes his hands away, staring directly at the doe-eyed doctor, “It’s literally college all over again. You’re still stuck in those books and you won’t get out of them.”

“Back then it was the shit ton of studying you had to do and now it’s this.” He points to the coat resting on Jungkook’s shoulders, “You’ll keep working and never give yourself a break.”

Jungkook looks at his friend confused, feeling a tad offended, “I do give myself breaks.”

Yugyeom wasn’t having any of it though, “Really now? What have you done aside from constantly going to work?”

“Well I-…uh...”

“Any hobbies? Interests?” He gestures to himself, “Hanging out with friends? Dude, I literally haven’t seen you in decades.”

Jungkook grows quiet, mind pondering on every single thing the man was sprouting out. Yugyeom sighs, suddenly realizing that he was the one with the injury that needed to be treated, not Jungkook. Taking a pause, he attempts to recollect himself, “Listen, I’m not saying that working all the time is bad, just come out every once in a while, you know?”

“It’s a lot of work, I know, but you can’t spend all your time here and miss out on other stuff.”

Jungkook dryly laughs, although it’s obvious to Yugyeom how strained and weakened his laugh comes out as. He knows his point has probably drilled itself into the doctor’s mind at this point, so he quickly turns the conversation around to lighten the mood.

“And I bet after all this time, you still suck at talking to girls.”

It seems to work, because Jungkook snaps out of his self-loathing daze and glares at the man, “Hey I’ve gotten better!”

Yugyeom hums, a smirk on his face, “I think so too, you seem to be talking to that intern of yours a lot. Is she single?”

Jungkook’s mouth drops, scoffing, “You haven’t changed one bit.”

“And you still haven’t answered my question.” Yugyeom sighs, brushing some of his hair away, “By the way, do you have a girlfriend yet?”

“Me?” Yugyeom nods, “Definitely no.”

“Ah come on man, you were just talking to a girl! And what’s even better is that you didn’t pass out at the sight!”

The glare in Jungkook’s eyes just increases with the time being, but Yugyeom excitedly points to him, “That! That right there was the stare too! You even stared properly!”

Jungkook darts his pointing hand away from him with a scowl, “I work in a hospital full of woman Yugyeom.”

“So you notice them too! That’s great!” Yugyeom grins, “They probably notice you too if you look around every once in a while.”

“Really?” Jungkook whispers and he rolls his eyes, wondering how much more oblivious his friend could be.

He swings his arm that’s not attached to the machine around him, “You my friend, are one handsome looking dude.”

Yugyeom wishes to himself that he had a camera in his hand within that one second, because the sheer blush spreading across his friend’s cheeks is too much of a treasure to miss. He chuckles, finally being able to see his old young friend hidden away in that mature doctor’s coat.

“You were an ace in college too but you had your head stuck in those books instead.” The mention sparks something in his eyes, especially when the knowledge of what his dear friend had been up to is on clear alert to him, “Have you even stayed in contact with anyone else?”

“No.” Jungkook truthfully admits, “You’re the first person I’ve actually seen up till now.”

The knowledge falls onto Yugyeom like a brick and for a moment, he just stares, looking for any traces of humour from his friend.

He’s only greeted with a dead serious look and he just can’t take it anymore, “Not even Bambam?” Jungkook shakes his head, “Mingyu? Jaehyun?”

Jungkook keeps shaking his head and Yugyeom sighs, placing a finger on his chin, “So you really haven’t talked to any of the boys….” His eyes light up, instantly sparkling, “Oh! What about Y/N? Talked to her recently?”

Jungkook’s eyes immediately widen and Yugyeom places a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “I ran into her the other day and she mentioned you Jungkook!” His friend slowly starts to step back but Yugyeom doesn’t lift his iron grip off of him and quickly rambles on, “She’s exactly the same as before, you could try asking her ou– “

“My, my, what’s going on here~”

Yugyeom pauses, wondering when where the new voice was coming from until he’s greeted to a young man wearing a white dress shirt, his black hair sleeked and parted to the side. He adorns a giant mischievous grin, inching closer and closer to the duo by the minute.

He wonders what the situation perhaps looks like, Jungkook appearing to be stuck in a frenzy as Yugyeom is practically grabbing onto him and not letting him to slip away. It’s something the man undoubtedly stares at too, “How is it that you know my precious intern?”

“Precious intern?” Yugyeom questions with an inquiring brow, releasing Jungkook who straightens himself up.

“Of course.” The man immediately latches onto Jungkook, his eyes crinkling until you can no longer see them, “I raised him with my bare hands.”

“You raised him?” Another voice scoffs, strolling along until it heard the appalling obscure fact, “I don’t think so.”

Yugyeom turns to the second man, a white coat handing off his broad shoulders when he abruptly taps the side of his clipboard against the first man’s arm, causing him to yelp and let go of Jungkook.

“Jungkook’s a doctor now Jimin, be a little professional.”

“Jin hit meee!” Jimin exclaims, clutching onto Jungkook and fake sobbing into his shirt, causing the man to awkwardly pat his back despite the annoyance spreading on his face like usual.

“Good.” A blonde doctor soon joins them, hands behind his back as he exchanges a knowing look with Jin before his eyes narrow onto Yugyeom, “Who is this guy?”

Jungkook manages to push Jimin’s hair away from his chin enough to answer, “This is Yugyeom, one of my friends from college.”

“College?!” Jimin immediately shrieks, racing over to the man with magnified eyes, “You knew my precious intern during college?”

Yugyeom nods with an endearing laugh and Jimin’s grasps onto his hands, “What was he like?”

He goes silent, leaning down to whisper in Jimin’s ear.

“He used to look like a baby.”

Jimin squeals, a high-pitched deafening sound that hurts everyone’s ears, “I need to know more! I need to know more!”

Jungkook watches the two from a distance, wondering to himself if it was such a great idea letting his former doctor counterpart become close with one of his college friends, but then he hears something tumble out of the doctor’s mouth that makes him instantly regret it all.

“You have baby pictures of my Jungkookie in college?!”

Before he can say anything though, Jimin is soon pressing a hand against his chest in awe when Yugyeom flashes a picture of the two posing.

“You look so adorable!” Jimin latches onto him again, poking his cheek, “My precious intern!”

“Past intern.” Jungkook annoyingly corrects, disbelief crossing his features when he sees Jin slowly shuffle over in curiosity.

He eyes Yugyeom in approval, “Can you send me this?”

Yugyeom nods and they begin to hurriedly exchange numbers, much to the doctor’s resentment, “Hey! Don’t send him those!”

“Send me a copy too.” Yoongi mumbles underneath his breath, causing Jungkook to glance at all of them with more disbelief, his neck straining from the extra weight currently still attached onto his torso.

“What’s going on here?” A new, authoritative voice pokes out and Jungkook turns to see Namjoon watching them with a confused look, papers in hand that he was most likely reading over.

“Jungkook’s pictures from college Namjoon! His friend has tons of them!” Jimin exclaims, but Namjoon frowns, placing his papers underneath his arm as he strides over.

He plucks the loud doctor off of his old intern, to which Jungkook is extremely grateful for. “I don’t want to ruin the moment but you should all be getting back to work, there’s new patients that need to be filed in.” He warmly smiles, “Just because we’re short two doctors, it doesn’t mean we have no work to do.”

Namjoon’s words work like a spell, all the doctors realizing that they should listen to him when they return back to their places, although Jungkook isn’t the most enthusiastic when he sees Jin eagerly eyeing down a collection of his old pictures. He sighs, returning back as well when he’s painfully aware of the sheer amount of work awaiting his arrival.

***

Night draws into the brightly lit windows of the hospital, accompanying the footsteps of a young doctor as he scribbles away on perhaps the thousandth paper he’s seen today.

With one last swipe of his signature, Jungkook looks up, eyes barely adjusting to the light when he notices that the hospital has gone silent, patients beginning to prepare to rest for the night. He sighs, stretching his arms and legs out when he trudges back over to his office, grateful that the day was finally over and that he could do the same as the patients after being awake for more than twenty-four hours.

He arrives at his office but pauses for a moment, hearing the faint sound of giggles coming nearby. Intrigued, he looks up to be greeted by his former doctor counterpart, also locking up for the day as he chatters away with one of the hospital’s old interns.

The sight almost makes Jungkook falter, a warm smile on the doctor’s face when he speaks to his girlfriend, eyes twinkling when she laughs at some bizarre joke he’s managed to come up with. Although they’re speaking to each other in public, Jungkook’s notices, the moment seems intimate at the same time, as if their eyes were only able to see no one else except for each other.

It should be described as being beautiful, even sweet, but all Jungkook can feel is his heart sinking further and further down when the voice of his friend rings loudly away inside his mind. He can only think about how much he’s done to progress his career, to move forward and climb the escalating demanding ladder when others have done the exact same, but also managed to grow other parts of themselves that Jungkook hasn’t even imagined to, despite being the youngest doctor among all of them.

When’s the last time he did something else other than work? When’s the last time he’s had some fun? Gone out with friends?

His eyes lock onto the couple again.

Actually…thought about being with someone?

The crease in between his brows increases and although the day had just ended, Jungkook’s shoulders are hitched up as if the day had just begun. It seems like his heavy gaze was noticed though, because soon the doctor is excitedly waving over at him.

“Jungkookie~” Jimin says, brightly smiling. Chaeyoung turns around too, eyes lighting up instantly when she notices Jungkook and offering him a friendly smile.

However, Jungkook can’t find it in him to do the same, not when the two seem to be practically glowing as a twisted stormy cloud brews over his mind. He simply chooses to sharply nod, opening his office door in a hurry and locking himself inside.

Jimin’s bright smile falters, eyes immediately sinking down into concern when he exchanges a silent look with Chaeyoung, who reflects the same look he holds.

***

Jungkook’s barely gotten a single second of sleep.

He’s attempted to do so many times, rolling over and flopping onto different sides of the bed, squeezing his eyes shut and feeling relieved when he feels himself being pulled away.

Until the thoughts enter his mind.

At first, he does what he’s used to doing – ignoring them – but the thoughts continue to creep on him, not letting his pink tinged eyes get even a second of peace.

He doesn’t regret meeting his friend, if anything the encounter brought up warm memories Jungkook had long forgotten about, pieces of the past he didn’t realize he missed until he saw his friend’s face again. However, just like a recorder, his friend’s words drag him back to instances in college, instances that Jungkook wants to say he tried his hardest, actually putting in the effort instead of hiding away in his books.

Unfortunately, he can’t say any of that.

Which is why when Jungkook trudges through the hospital halls at the spike of dawn, he looks like a hollow empty shell. He wonders if he had perhaps underestimated how well he was at keeping his feelings at bay, because soon a certain someone is eyeing him down with troubled eyes.

He deeply sighs and suddenly his arm is being yanked, a loud yelp to escaping him.

“That’s the seventh one I’ve heard today.” The black-haired doctor mumbles, dragging him over to his office before shutting the door behind him. Jungkook remains bewildered when Jin plants him down onto a chair, standing in front of him with crossed arms and narrowed eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” Jungkook immediately blurts, but Jin frowns more when he takes in the heavy dark circles lining the young doctor’s eyes.

He isn’t having any of it.

“Are you being overworked? Should I talk to Namjoon?” Jungkook bring his hands up instantly, shaking his head.

“N-No, it isn’t that…” Jungkook lowers his gaze, staring at the ground as he keeps his hand clasped together. It’s a little difficult for him to look Jin directly in the eyes, for the former was watching him carefully to catch any sign of what was causing him the distress.

Jungkook clears his throat, hesitantly bringing his eyes up, “Do you regret becoming a doctor?”

Jin blinks, not expecting the question, “No, why?”

Jungkook sighs, “I mean…more like being a doctor at this age.” He looks up, “Do you regret not doing it sooner?”

Jin’s arms fall to his sides and the confusion begins to dissolve away from his expression bit by bit, “It took me a while to figure out that this was what I wanted to do, but I think I would have regretted doing it sooner.” There’s a small smile on Jin’s lips when he slides into a chair across from Jungkook, “It’s harder to figure out when you’re at a younger age.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen a bit and Jin sends him a knowing smile, “Did seeing your friend bring up this question?”

“Yeah…” Jungkook lets out a heavy exhale, reaching into his pocket to grab his phone. He unlocks it, staring at the picture of a familiar young man smiling alongside other familiar faces, before slipping the phone over to Jin across the table.

“He’s kept in touch with every one of them since college…” Jungkook says quietly, causing Jin to raise an eyebrow as he keeps swiping across the pictures. “One of them even left to work abroad a while ago, so he isn’t in the picture but Yugyeom still talks to him…”

Jin pauses at one picture, frowning, “Who’s this?”

“Oh that’s Mingyu– “ Jungkook stares at the picture, wondering how even though his friend retained his signature cheeky smile, he looked so much older in the picture as he poses next to a girl, “He got married a couple of months ago…”

“Ah.” Jin simply says, putting the phone down slowly as he watches Jungkook sinks farther into his chair with worried eyes. There’s an uncomfortable silence residing in the room and it becomes far too apparent to the older doctor that its something he needs to break.

“They’ve gotten too far ahead.” Jin says, “But you’re still here. In this hospital.”

Jungkook nods, not really wanting to confirm anything with spoken words.

“You’ve fallen really behind in comparison.”

The thought stings Jungkook, but it sounds even worse when Jin directly states it. “We’re the exact same age, but they were able to keep in contact with each other, they’ve been up to other things, they’ve even found someone–“ Jungkook weakly laughs, “While I was just worried about becoming a doctor as soon as possible.”

“Do you regret it?” Jin questions, tossing the same notion right back at Jungkook.

“No–“ He cuts himself off, wincing, “Maybe? I…I just don’t know anymore.”

“You still have time JK.“ Jin reaches over to pat Jungkook’s back, nodding understandably, “And you’ve basically knocked it out the park with becoming a doctor. That too, at the same time as me.”

A small smile surfaces on Jungkook’s lips and Jin takes the opportunity right away, “You told me you were going to become a doctor in one year and now look at you, sitting here wearing the same coat as me!”

Jungkook falters, “But I just hope this coat isn’t the only thing I’ll ever have at the end of the day.”

“It’ll all work out, trust me. You just need to give it time.” Jin says in a comforting tone before he lets out a loud sigh, “You young people are always rushing into things too soon.”

Jungkook scoffs, getting up from his chair, “At least we didn’t take a century to become doctors.”

“Yah medical school is hard okay!” Jin points an accusing finger at him.

“I know, I went to one to become a doctor.” Jungkook beams, smiling fully for the first time in Jin’s office, “Right at the same time as you.”

Jin playfully frowns at that, pushing at Jungkook’s shoulders, “Yeah, yeah, now get out of my office you show-off. I have work to do.”

Jungkook abruptly stops in his tracks, watching Jin struggle for a minute trying to push his heavy form until he grows frustrated, “Yah JK!”

Jungkook laughs loudly, walking out of the office with a huge grin.

***

It’s cold and dreary, causing Jungkook to tug his hood closer when an icy breeze passes by. The sky is completely dark, a handful of stars scattered across the horizon and a few fluctuating lamp posts being his only source of light when he threads through the gap between two of them.

Talking to Jin actually helped him more than he had expected, not realizing how much seeing his old friend affected him until he was forced to confront the feelings and put them into words. In a way he was grateful, for he was now better able to pinpoint why he felt absolutely torn since he encountered Yugyeom, but unfortunately understanding what was wrong was only the first step in completely figuring things out.

Which is why he’s here, out in the bleary inky sky and sparkling stars, dressed in a comfortable black hoodie and jeans as he walks down the empty sidewalk. It’s a little unnerving to be wearing something other than his white doctor coat, something that Jungkook thinks has completely become apart of him at this point and to be simply walking outside, eyes not latched onto impending reports or arms not quickly fluctuating around to attend to all his patients.

It’s borderline strange, Jungkook has to be admit, but its oddly similar to what he was like before he had even taken his first step within the hospital walls. He laughs, breath coming out as mist, wondering how long it had been since he had even left those walls since his first steps.

He looks up when he hears footsteps coming from near him and instantly he sidelines to the left side, letting the two individuals glued to each other pass by without him being in their way. The shared glowing smiles and sparks of warmth emitting from them despite the chilling cold makes Jungkook wince, leaving him thoughts filled with encountering his former doctor and his girlfriend.

He recalls the situation again, but then his thoughts go even more astray when he remembers a pair of doctors that used to be at the hospital when he was initially hired as an intern. Although he does certainly miss them, there was a fine layer of shock imbedded into him when they had declared the status of their relationship and Jungkook had no clue as to how two polar opposites – two people that had always been known to argue with one another, managed to end up changing that feeling into something else entirely.

He doesn’t want to call it envy, because he’s admired these two people for so long and the last thing he could ever feel was that word. But it was like his admiration along with expectations had only spiked up, continuing to increase rapidly when he had even encountered another certain blonde and orange duo that had his hopes hitting the ceiling at that point.

He lets out a loud sigh, hands burying themselves further into his pockets when he keeps walking through the icy chill.

Yugyeom was right. Jin was right.

He was too busy pursuing something no one at his age would even dare, that he’s completely forgotten everything else.

Shaking his head, his dry eyes blink against the cold when a brightly lit store greets Jungkook’s vision and his eyes perk up.

The cold is beginning to get to him, he notices, so he makes a turn, heading into the store and pleasantly meeting relief when the warmth is already beginning to thaw out his freezing hands and face.

It’s not too bad. Jungkook thinks, looking around to see shelves of food and fridges filled. He eyes down a certain aisle, one stocked with some of his favourite snacks and he grins, knowing exactly what he needed in that moment.

Pacing around, he starts inspecting the ones he likes, tossing them carelessly into his arms before he heads over to the fridge, doe eyes eagerly searching around for small cases of his favourite milk.

In an instant he finds it, a giant bunny smile emerging on his lips when he teeter-tooters on his heels, taking it out excitedly.

Even though his entire day practically sucked, he’s glad that he can at least end it off nicely as he stares down at the cartons.

“Jungkook?”

His arm freezes in place, the breezy chill still emitting out from the fridge and submerging his torso when he hears soft footsteps closing in on him. He doesn’t turn around right away though, only slightly flinching when he feels a hand lightly tap his arm.

That’s when he slowly turns, blown up eyes immediately locking onto yours, “Jungkook, right?”

He can only seem to nod in that one moment and you smile, causing Jungkook to stagger and drop all his snacks onto the ground. It snaps him back in, the door to the fridge shutting close when he kneels down, putting his banana milk to the side and attempting to hastily pick up the spilled snacks.

Two other hands assist him and it’s when they accidentally knock into his own when he looks up, the hue on his cheeks dipping into a threatening red.

You place the snacks into his arms, not quite noticing the arising colour when you point, “Do you need a basket for those?”

Again, he just nods, letting out a breath that was caught deep in his throat when you walk away. Before he even has a moment to collect himself though, you’re soon returning back, reaching out with the basket and gesturing for him to drop his snacks into.

He places the basket against his arm, occasionally glancing up at you from the ground, “Its really been a while, hasn’t it?”

He tries to formulate some words in his mind, but there’s a very brief pang of dejection dwelling in your eyes when you say the words, something that almost reminds him of the time he had spoken to Yugyeom, “I-It has…I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

The words are spoken softly and Jungkook knows it must have worked when there’s a smile tugging on your lips, “I actually started working nearby here.” Your eyes instantly light up, “I also ran into Yugyeom just the other day.”

Jungkook lightly laughs, “I did too, but probably not in the same way you did.”

You frown at that, but then a thought immediately occurs to you, “D-Did you become one…? A doctor, I mean.”

Jungkook nods, “I did.”

“That’s nice…” You smile, although it doesn’t quite meet your eyes, Jungkook notices. “Well, I leave you to your shopping then.”

You gesture to his basket and offer him a kind smile before turning to get back to your own cart. Jungkook continues to stand there, a basket overflowing with snacks and hands now cold from grasping onto cooled milk when your back completely disappears. He blinks, attempting to process what exactly happened just moments ago and why he felt so bad seeing you here, in front of him when he should have been the opposite, filled from head to toe in pure joy instead.

It was almost like…he didn’t want to see you…

The thought alone makes Jungkook grimace, because none of that has anything to do with you. You were just being yourself around him, like how you always were back in college, tender and kind, being so close to the rest of the guys and him, wanting to be closer to him even though he barely tried to talk to you, let alone get to know you more. It was something he had regretted, but it was easily tossed away to the side of his mind when he got accepted into medical school, leaving you and the rest behind so quickly that seeing you again…like this.

It’s making him remember everything all over again.

And it’s re-opened a link he had thought had been long closed off.

So why was he still standing there, staring into space when he can hear the cashier checking your items out one by one?

What was he even waiting for anymore?

A large hand slams against the glass door and you jolt back with wide, confused eyes, shifting between the sight of the shining door and Jungkook standing quite awkwardly in front of you. At the view of your terrified expression, he quickly clears his throat, knowing the last thing he wanted to accomplish was to scare you off somehow.

And that too, again.

“H-Hey…” He says, voice raising up into an unflattering tone when he’s already cursing at himself on the inside.

Real smooth there Jungkook, realll smooth.

“Uh…Hi?” You chuckle, now noticing the pink dust beginning to creep on his cheeks when he clears his throat again.

“Y-You-…” Calm down Jungkook, he warns to himself, “Y-You said you worked nearby.”

You nod, expectant eyes latching onto him and for a moment, he considers if perhaps he wasn’t the only one that actually wanted to stay in contact, “I-I was just thinking, that if y-you’d like, we could meet up some time, you know just like friends hanging out, o-or like….”

He can’t manage to even finish off that sentence, cheeks now completely red when he just bites his lip and stares down at the ground like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. Before he can even mumble out a string of apologies, there’s a piece of paper being flashed between the ground and his eyes, causing his head to snap up immediately.

A warm smile lines your lips and when you gesture for him to take the paper, he automatically refreshes and grasps it, realizing there was a collection of numbers scribbled down on it.

“I have to get going but…” Your eyes trace over the paper and he instinctively blushes, but you send him another smile before turning to leave.

When the door comes to a close, Jungkook remains standing there. He stares down at the piece of paper, looking at it like he had just discovered a piece of gold.

After one long heavy silence, he suddenly sparks up, a giant grin on his features as his eyes crinkle when he fists the paper in his hands.

He’s ecstatic – so incredibly happy and bursting with joy when he rushes out of the store, not even realizing that he needs to go back in to pay for his things when the cashier shoots him a dirty glare, but all he can see in that single moment is something he‘s managed to do with his own effort, actually trying for once.

He can’t wait to tell Yugyeom that he can talk to girls properly.

***

He’s legitimately freaking out.

It’s as if someone took a bucket of water and splashed it all over his fiery determination, dousing it within seconds when he comes to realize what exactly you had told him.

A date.

You had asked him – Jeon Jungkook – out on a date.

Not to hang out as friends, not to catch up on the old reminiscent days of college, but a date.

The thing two people do if they’re interested in each other romantically.

The very thing Jungkook has avoided being asked of constantly, whether it was disappearing away from impending eyes within the hospitals walls or ducking away from any advances towards him.

He’s freaking out.

And he has no clue on how he was supposed to handle something of this sort.

But he does know someone who can.

The door rattles when his fist comes into contact with it, nervous feet walking back and forth before the apartment as he tries to steady down his breathing. When there’s no response from the other side of the door, he knocks again, this time with more force as the door swings wide open, leaving Jungkook speechless as he stares at the man before him.

“Jungkook?”

“Dr.–“

He pauses, wondering if he had gotten the correct address.

“Dr. Park?”

The use of his professional name causes the doctor’s eyes to widen, hurriedly crossing his arms over the short white bathrobe he adorns. It barely covers his chest and legs, a slimy green mixture smeared all over his face.

“What? I just showered and my skin has been super dehydrated lately, okay?” Jimin exasperatedly sighs, “But what are you doing here Jungkook?”

“I needed to talk to you but you didn’t come into work today so I thought you would be home and I–“ Jimin opens the door fully, pushing Jungkook inside.

“My mask is supposed to come off in two minutes and you’re out here babbling!” Jimin protests, closing the door with a huff. “Chaeyoung, we have company!”

A familiar head pops out when Jungkook enters the living room, his eyes widening when he sees a movie on the tv paused as the intern perks up seeing him, “Jungkook! What brings you over?”

“Well I–“

“You two chat, I have one-minute left and I am definitely not spending date night with dry skin!” Jimin quickly rambles, rushing into the bathroom as Chaeyoung laughs.

She moves to the side of the couch and pats down on it, “Have a seat Jungkook.”

He nods, shifting to sit down next to her, but his shoulders are hiked up as he interlaces his hands, gaze staring at the paused tv. In comparison, Chaeyoung is spread out on the couch, lazily leaning against the edge.

“Is everything okay?”

Snapping out of his daze, he turns to see her staring at him with concerned eyes.

“Well…I actually have a date.”

Her eyes immediately beam, “A date?”

He timidly nods, not realizing there was a speck of pink spreading across his skin. Chaeyoung notices right away, smiling until a loud voice breaks through the comfortable atmosphere, a clean Park Jimin still dressed in a bathrobe emerging.

“My skin looks beautiful and my intern has a date?! What an amazing day it is today~” He immediately pounces onto Jungkook with a huge grin.

“Wait, wait!” Jungkook hurriedly protests, trying to wrench the man off of him, “That’s why I came over today! I need help!”

Jimin freezes, looking at Jungkook as if he had just sprouted some holy words to him, “You…you need my help?”

Jungkook sighs, the doctor now clinging onto him like a child with wide, cooing eyes but Chaeyoung leans over, placing a hand on Jimin’s shoulder, “I think this is his first date Jimin.”

Jimin instantly stops with a frown, “First date?” When Jungkook exhales deeply again, Jimin latches off of him completely, eyes now filling up with concern, “Jungkookie?”

Jungkook goes silent for a moment and Chaeyoung shifts her eyes over to Jimin, who takes a couple of steps back at seeing his precious intern suddenly look so distraught.

He eventually speaks up, “I…I need help, I’ve never gone on a date before and she’s someone I do like, but I–“ Jungkook stops and Chaeyoung pats his shoulder, giving him time to speak to which he greatly appreciates, “This isn’t something I find the answer in books, or get experience through working. This is so real and I-I just don’t know how to prepare…”

Jungkook buries his head within his hands and its silent again, causing Jimin to gesture something to Chaeyoung, who quietly leaves as he steps up.

“Jungkook.” He looks up and the doctor smiles at him, “We’re going to figure this out, okay? You’ve come to the right person and I am here to educate you…my precious intern.”

Jungkook actually smiles at that and Jimin instantly beams, Chaeyoung returning back with a giant whiteboard and marker in hand.

“Alright then!” Jimin grabs the marker, perching up one bare leg onto the couch, “What do you know about dates?”

“Uh…” Jungkook looks like he’s just been asked a question on an exam he didn’t study for, “They’re romantic and stuff? Like you spend time together and do cute things?” He quickly glances at Chaeyoung who gives him an encouraging nod and a thumbs up, to which Jimin grins.

“Correct!” Jimin scribbles it down onto the board, “See Jungkook! You do know about dates!”

“Not enough though.” Jungkook whines but Jimin raises a hand.

“Fear not! We have you covered!” He gestures to Chaeyoung again who leaves onto to rush in with an assortment of suits. Jungkook helplessly watches as Jimin dashes away too, returning with a bunch of his own collection of hair supplies and accessories.

“What’s all this for?”

Jimin chuckles when he notices Jungkook’s eyes widening, colour draining completely from his skin at the new material. There’s a mysterious glint residing deep within the doctor’s eyes, a look that Jungkook truthfully is terrified of.

Jimin wraps an arm around him, “Oh Jungkookie, there is so much you have yet to learn~”

***

The room is brightly lit, a hue of warm orange splashed across the walls and a layer of vibrant pink flowers streamed along the front counter, right next to a bowl filled with round cherry candies. From a distance, there’s a violin playing, elegant music surrounding the folks that chatter behind the walls as greetings and pleasantries are exchanged.

One of the cherry candies is plucked from the bowl, a gold shine wrapped around the delicacy before its entirely ripped away and tossed carelessly to the side. The wrapper barely meets the trash can when the candy is furiously being spit out, Jungkook hurriedly wiping his sleeve when he’s left with a bitter sour taste in his mouth.

He immediately adjusts his sleeve, not wanting any sticky cherry residue clinging onto the expensive suit that he’s somehow managed to fit in. With a sigh, he rests his hand against his cheek as he leans against the counter, trying his best not to ruin his gelled hair that took hours to put together.

“Hold still!” Jimin hisses, hands covered with a musky gel that had Jungkook squirming away.

“It smells bad!” The younger man protests, but Jimin frowns when there’s barely any ounce of gel in Jungkook’s hair despite the two of them being at it for two hours.

“Jungkookie, you said you would trust me! Who is the mentor here?!”

Jungkook slumps down into the chair, pouting at Jimin, “You are…”

“Exactly!” Jimin snaps his fingers, causing some of the gel to flick onto Jungkook’s cheek as he winces, “Oh! Sorry!”

Jimin continues to coat his hair with the gel until its covered majority of Jungkook’s hair and with one rough push, his hair is slicked back to reveal his forehead. “There! Have a look for yourself Jungkook!”

He gets up and walks over to the bathroom mirror as Jimin washes his hands. To his own astonishment and disbelief, the gel serves to not only keep his hair styled, but drastically ages him into a better, more mature image.

“Wow…” He can only stand there and gape at his reflection as Jimin grins, taking the suit Chaeyoung brings him from her hands and turning to face his young intern.

“Now, try this on!”

Jungkook warily takes the suit away from Jimin’s hands, eyeing it oddly.

“Aren’t you shorter than me though?”

Jimin scoffs, “I’m not that short! Besides I usually buy suits with longer pants because its easier to tailor them afterwards!”

“Suree.” Jungkook teases, causing Jimin to pout as he chuckles, “Alright I’m putting it on!”

The suit – just as Jimin said – miraculously fits Jungkook better than he had expected. It doesn’t hang off his form nor does it render him the ability to not breathe, but fits well enough that Jimin dare say it looks better on Jungkook then it does on himself.

After a couple moments of turning and rotating, Jungkook seems satisfied but can’t help the one thought that occurs to him.

“Isn’t this a little fancy?”

Jimin smirks, “Not for where you’re going tonight.” He flips out a brochure, one that has Jungkook widening his eyes.

“A restaurant? But why?”

“It’ll be romantic! Candle lights, music, dinner!” Jimin claps his hands together, “You’ll both love it!”

“I don’t know…” Jungkook whispers, still staring at the brochure. “I don’t really go to restaurants, I don’t know how to speak or what to do, I-I…” Jimin holds up a hand, reassuring the young intern right away.

“That’s why we’re here!” Chaeyoung brings out the giant whiteboard again and Jimin smirks.

“By the time you get there, you’ll be ace gentlemen quality~”

Jungkook sighs again, eyes latching onto the image he reflects against the glass doors in the front. Although it was truly a hassle getting ready this time around, Jungkook can find it in himself to understand that Jimin was right – his gelled hair, paired with the sleek black suit and a set of silver hoops in his ears (which Jimin thankfully gave him) actually does to a lot of service to him, his features not appearing to be so boyish anymore.

He wonders if this is how he should dress for work instead.

The thought is shaken away, because today wasn’t so much about how he looked or where he was as much as it was about the two of you. Jungkook begins to contemplate if he should give you a call, but before he even has a chance to pull his cellphone out, he spots someone in a bright blue dress dashing into the restaurant.

You don’t even seem to recognize him when you get into the restaurant, too occupied with holding onto your knees as you gasp for air. When you finally do look up, Jungkook can see it in your eyes far too quickly and he silently thanks Jimin for all his troubles.

“Woah.” You blink, narrowing your eyes until you’re squinting, “J-Jungkook?”

With a timid smile, he nods, reaching out for you to hold his hand as he gestures into the hall. “Shall we?”

Your cheeks brighten up when you take his hand and Jungkook doesn’t know if the colour appearing on you is because of the fact that you had been running just so you can make it on time, or perhaps because…of him.

Both thoughts either way bring a small quip to his smile, guiding you inside when he can feel small butterflies dancing around in the pit of his stomach.

Your mouth drops wide open when you enter the hall, string of decorative pink and purple flowers in between white lights hanging from the ceiling. You don’t realize you’ve reached your table until Jungkook lets go of you, causing you immediately to be flustered when you been gaping at the place with wide eyes.

Jungkook seems to be unaffected by this however, pulling your chair out with a sweet smile, “Thank you.”

You sit down as he nods, settling down into the seat in front of you. Picking up the menu’s, your eyes begin to scan through all the dishes when Jungkook watches you from the corner of his, a relieved smile on his lips when everything seems to be falling into place and dare he even say, Jimin’s help actually did do more wonders then he would have imagined.

Part of it has to do with you as well too, Jungkook notes. He was extremely reluctant on asking to even come to a place like this, wondering to himself continuously if he was crossing the line too much, or even worse, practically jumping over that line in a rush. After listening to Jimin plead with him over and over again, he finally gave in, asking you to come to the specific restaurant and to dress formally for the occasion.

You don’t seem to have barely missed a beat just like him, adorned in a sleeveless soft blue dress that frills out at your knees, paired with your hair in an updo, light curls dropping down to the side of your cheeks. In a way, it makes Jungkook smile, being seated next to each other in such a luxurious place and dressed so lavishly, yet you still look so faintly similar to how you did in college.

“You look very nice.” Jungkook blurts it out without even realizing and his eyes immediately widen – but then you give him a kind smile in return and he recalls Jimin telling him that complimenting what you were wearing was a must for an date.

You tuck a stand of hair away, his eyes following along with the gesture, “Thanks, so do you.”

He sends you a similar smile, the atmosphere morphing into a warm and comfortable one. Truthfully, Jungkook is completely shocked at the moment. He had conjured up much more atrocious scenario’s in his mind prior to the date, things that could have gone wrong, things that could have messed things up for the far worse. It caused him to constantly pester Jimin and Chaeyoung with worries, questioning everything they did and everything he should do on the day of.

It was extremely exhaustive, but sitting with you here, seeing how you look at him, it makes him feel as if things will be alright, like there wasn’t anything he should be worried about.

You frown for a moment, enlarging your eyes as you concentrate on the menu and the act makes Jungkook smile amusedly, noticing that your expression come off as rather cute when you’re serious.

“Everything alright?”

Looking up, you nod, “I think so? Just having trouble with some of the food names.”

He slides his eyes back to the menu, suddenly realizing he had been so preoccupied with his thoughts that he hadn’t taken a proper moment to look at it. “Let me see if I can help.”

As Jungkook begins to point out things Jimin had explained to him on the menu, you tentatively listen along and follow his direction. Both of you are greatly busy with the process though, failing to realize the other people present at the restaurant, namely one table that seems to be a tad bit crowded and louder in comparison.

“Look, look he’s talking to her!”

There’s a loud wail suddenly, sobbing sounds coming from the table when a collective reign of voices interject immediately. One of the waiters raises a brow at the commotion, simply thinking that the guests were getting agitated from not being served.

“Are you ready to order?” He questions, notepad in hand.

“Of course, can I have one of everything on the menu?” A man with parted pink hair speaks, eyes attentively on the waiter who seems to only blink on the request. The man picks up the menu again, pointing to it, “The price doesn’t matter, even better if it can come with a bottle of win-“

A hand knocks the menu out of his hands, long curly blonde hair tied back into a ponytail as he bursts out dramatically laughing, “You’re so funny!! HAHAHAHA~”

The blue-haired girl sitting next to him smiles to the waiter, “We’ll just take water for now.”

He nods, eyebrow still raising at the particular table, but shrugging off as he walks. The blonde man instantly leans over, glaring at the pink haired individual with a hiss.

“Are you trying to make me go broke?!”

“What?? You said you were paying tonight!”

“Yeah so order something that’s not going to make my wallet cry!”

The pink haired man frowns, staring at the menu with a sigh, “You’re no fun Park.”

“He really isn’t.”

Before Jimin can even protest, a group of three people sits down next to them, all three of them having the same long black hair. Jimin tries to stifle back a laugh when they sit down, but it comes bursting out after he restrains himself for too long.

“You can keep laughing, at least I don’t look like someone dunked a bowl of ramen on my head.” Yoongi mumbles, eyes latching onto two very specific people as he turns to Chaeyoung, “Everything going alright?”

She nods, “They seem to be comfortable with each other.”

“Good.” Yoongi sighs, smiling gratefully when Hoseok hands him a napkin. “Out of all of Jimin’s bright ideas, I’d have to say this is possibly the worst one.”

“It’s brilliant!” Jimin exclaims, protesting right away, “And he’s our baby! We have to protect him!”

“He’s an adult.” Yoongi retorts, causing Jimin to pout but Chaeyoung leans forward.

“I know it seems a little invasive but Jimin’s just been worried, that’s all.” Jimin smiles at her yet Namjoon sighs.

“I don’t know, I’m with Yoongi on this one.” Namjoon gestures over to you two, “They seem to be doing fine without us as well.”

“Then we can all just hang out today! Plus I’m paying~” Jimin giggles, although the words bring a sparkle to Jin’s eyes that he really doesn’t want to see, “But no making me broke!”

Jin mumbles something underneath his breath that sounds like “invites us all over here but doesn’t even give us the full treatment” but Jimin lets it slide, eyes constantly darting over to you and Jungkook.

You two on the other hand, have already ordered and talk as you wait, seemingly answering a list of questions Jungkook had been given prior to meeting you.

“Did you write all of this down or something?” You lightly laugh, not expecting him to compliment you so many times nor to be so curious about your job, which truthfully you find to be incredibly boring. “I just do taxes and bookkeeping, it’s really not that great.”

From the opposite side, Jungkook seems to be flustered, losing bits of his confidence when he lowers his long-sleeved wrist underneath the table, “I’m sure it’s great and that you work hard! Did I mention your hair looks great tonight?”

“Yes, many times.” You chuckle, not quite understanding what was going on but shrugging it off as simple nervousness. After all you felt the same way, being in front of him like this, after so many years had soared away at the speed of light.

You wonder if Jungkook sees the fall in your expression, because his eyes are instantly tracing all over your features before you speak, “You bumped into Yugyeom, right? At your hospital?”

Jungkook nods, “He had fainted from a concussion.”

“Oh.”

He shakes his head, “It wasn’t too serious, but I don’t think Bambam’s going to survive to tell the tale.”

Your eyes light up, “You met Bambam?”

“Ah no– Yugyeom told me about him and the others.”

“I see…” You grow silent and Jungkook shifts in his seat, his hands starting to become clammy by the minute.

He doesn’t understand; he was prepared, listening to every word that Jimin’s slipped out prior to meeting you and so far everything that doctor had told him has seemed to work, until now, especially when he notices your gaze fixated on the table.

“I-I heard Mingyu got married.” He quickly blurts out, watching your eyes sparkle for a split second, “And that Jaehyun’s moved recently for work.”

You smile, although it doesn’t quite meet your eyes, “The last time I saw Jaehyun, he stopped by my apartment to stay goodbye. I was also at Mingyu’s wedding.”

“You went?”

“Of course.” Your smile falters, “He got married to my sister.”

“O-Oh.” Now Jungkook turns quiet, mind suddenly wracking around for the memory of you telling him you had a sister. “I…I didn’t know.”

“We sent you an invitation.” Your gaze is not even on him anymore, staring at your fidgeting hands instead, “I wanted to introduce her to everyone…including you.”

Jungkook is at a loss of words, staring at you hopelessly with wide eyes. In the spur of the moment, he tries to fathom up an answer, not even taking a single glance at his sleeve when he does so, “Y/N I-“

“Your meal is here~” A voice immediately injects him and before he knows it, plates and plates of food are soon flourishing onto the table. Jungkook raises an eyebrow, being fully aware that the two of you did not order this much food, but when he turns to the waiter with questions tumbling on his lips, he go silent completely.

The waiter has long curly blonde hair, pulled back into a ponytail as he smirks at Jungkook. He tugs himself closer to Jungkook, wrapping an arm around the younger individual.

“My oh my! What a dashing young man!” Jimin stares at your surprised eyes and loudly cries out, “They don’t make such men anymore, do they?!”

He begins to sob onto Jungkook’s shirt, leaving him in an uncomfortable situation when the man’s weight is beginning to crease his suit, as well as spur more confusion in your eyes. Luckily for Jungkook though, a set of four arms are plucking the pouty doctor off of him, giving the former a dirty glare before one of them taps his arm.

“I hope you are alright Sir.” Jungkook nods and Namjoon smiles at him, long black hair swishing when he turns to you. “I hope you can excuse my colleague’s outburst, he seems to be having a hard time at work today.”

You politely smile, “No, no, it’s okay. I hope he’s alright though.”

“He’ll be fine. If he isn’t, I’ll make sure he’ll pay for all the damages he’s causing by working overtime for two people’s shifts instead of one.” The second man eyes Jungkook with a smug grin, before Namjoon turns and seeks his arm.

“We’ll be leaving now, please enjoy the rest of your night.” You nod and when you look away, Namjoon and Yoongi shoot him a thumbs up, hurriedly walking away with a protesting Jimin.

Jungkook smiles, but then his thoughts re-focus and he realizes that prior to the intrusion, you had been discussing something that had his stomach churning, his heart suddenly feeling heavy. Though the thoughts die out once again when he notices you fully concentrating on the food, barely meeting his gaze with only occasional polite glances.

He loses all of his appetite suddenly, plucking at the food with his fork and sighing when the clock’s handles seem to have silenced down. In comparison to the commotion just occurring moments ago, its dead silent and he doesn’t know how much of it he can take.

You raise your head, a cluster of coughs leaving you as Jungkook’s eyes widen.

“Are you okay?”

You nod, circling around your throat for a moment, “This is really spicy.”

“Let me get you some water.” He instantly stands up, walking over to one of the waiters when you’re just about to tell him it was okay. Your hand drops, deeply exhaling as you shrink back into your seat.

From a distance away, there’s a pair of giant binoculars glued to your every move, a voice already beginning to whine, “She doesn’t like the food!” He passes them to the blue-haired girl sitting next to him, “He needs help, I’m going to go back and–“

An arm keeps him firmly in place, “You are going to sit here and do nothing. If there’s a problem, then Jungkook can take of it.”

“That’s so unfair though!!”

“Listen to Yoongi, Jimin. You’ve caused enough trouble already.” The man with the pink hair remarks, cheek stuffed with an abundance of food he’s thankfully not paying for.

Namjoon hums, crossing his arms as he sits down, “I agree, for now let’s just trust that Jungkook can handle this one on his own.”

“Um guys….” A voice peeks out from the heated conversation, all heads turning towards her, “We might have another situation here.”

“What is it?” Hoseok hurriedly asks, putting on Jimin’s giant binoculars, “Oh no…”

“What?” Jimin’s head whips back and forth, “What is it? What is it?”

“Jungkook just tripped and split a jug of water on her.”

A unison of multiple voices break out, “WHAT?!?”

“This is bad.” Jin repeats, forgetting the plate of food in front of him entirely, “This is really really bad.”

Jimin slips away before anyone even notices, dashing over to the pair swiftly. He notices a piece of cloth tucked away on your lap as your eyes dart around frantically, but to his own dismay, his young intern is no where to be found.

“The kind gentleman that was here, where is he now?” Jimin questions, quickly acting like a waiter. When you point to the men’s room, Jimin frowns, but he simply nods and sprints over, leg kicking the door open as he barges in.

“JUNGKOOK!” He doesn’t even need to look around much when his eyes land on the man’s features, currently staring down at the sink. Jimin wonders why he was even there, having split all that water on you and now making you wait by doing nothing in the bathroom.

“Jungkook, what–“ The words are immediately swallowed away when Jimin notices Jungkook’s tightened grip on the counter. He brings a hand to the man’s tense back, patting down on it, “What happened Jungkookie?”

Jimin’s voice is quiet and soft, drastically different to what he sounded like just moments ago, but Jungkook shakes his head, appearing as if he was ready to hurl at any second. “I-I can’t do this…”

“Jungkook she’s still out there waiting for you, it’s okay.”

He shakes his head harshly, “Nothing’s okay anymore and to top it all off, I had to spill water on her!”

“Go back Jungkook.” Jimin urges, Jungkook turning to him like he was merely sprouting out nonsense at this point, “I don’t know what exactly happened, but the intern I so know doesn’t give up no matter what the challenge. He’s a fighter and I’ll even admit he looks a lot better in my own suit that I ever did.”

Jungkook quips a small smile at that and Jimin grins, “Now get out there, will you?”

He takes a deep exhale and Jimin reaches out to adjust his intern’s tousled collar.

“Alright.” He takes a step back and Jimin nods satisfied.

But when Jungkook eventually does come out, he immediately turns to Jimin with frightened eyes.

“She’s gone.”

“What?!” Jimin scans around, seeing indeed you were – the table the two of you once occupied left empty and now being vacated for new customers.

Jungkook groans, fisting his hair that he doesn’t care about ruining anymore, “I’ve ruined everything!” He sinks down onto his knees, burying his head into his hands, “Tonight was supposed to be perfect, but I’ve ruined it!”

Jimin is at a loss of words, looking down at his intern with sympathetic eyes when he doesn’t know what to say anymore. He was incredibly hopeful – Jungkook appeared dashing within his suit and the evening had been going so well whenever he checked in.

He had enough faith about you too, having a good feeling of you staying despite the chaotic waterfall that had ensured, but it seems like he was unfortunately wrong this time.

Not left with many options when he sees his intern so distraught, he signals the crowd of concerned and confused eyes latching onto him to call a cab. Placing a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, they leave the restaurant immediately and Jimin sighs when he wishes that things could have gotten better than this.

***

The day is filled with taxing amounts of papers that need to be filed, Jungkook marking each one with patient details as he swipes his signature on other documents. Aside from the lengthy procedure he does, the doctor hasn’t stepped out of his office for a split second through the day – something the three doctors huddled quietly outside notice.

“I’ve never seen him like this.” Jimin whispers and Jin hums, sharing the same look as him.

“Should I ask him to help me with my wards? It’ll get him out of there for a while.”

Chaeyoung shakes her head at the thought, “I don’t think what he needs right now is more work.”

“Then what does he need?” Jimin says, racking a hand through his hair roughly as he darts his eyes between the two.

“Still glued to your old intern, Dr. Park?”

Jimin pauses, a new voice suddenly entering the confines of the hospital, paired with a familiar set of footsteps he swears he hasn’t heard in an eternity. The last thing he expects when he turns, is to see you standing next to Yoongi dressed in a white coat and holding a clipboard, smirking with crossed arms.

It’s only when Yoongi chuckles at his surprised expression that everything hits like a slap, and suddenly there’s three doctors flinging themselves onto you.

“Y/N!!”

The clipboard is completely knocked out of your hands by the tsunami of people, but simply retort with a light laugh.

“You guys missed me that much?”

No one responds, clinging onto you as you dart a look to Yoongi, who just smiles amusedly at your expression.

“They really did miss you,” He pats your shoulder, voice lowering, “and so did I. Welcome back Dr. L/N.”

Once everyone separates, you hand Chaeyoung a tissue when tears begin to stream down her eyes and she gratefully accepts. Jin meanwhile is in awe, having not encountered his former doctor counterpart in far too long.

You smile fondly, “So it’s the new Dr. Kim now?”

Jin, despite the sheer amount of confidence he usually radiates, nods shyly, “Nothing like the past Dr. Kim though.”

You snort at that and turn to the last doctor, who’s looking at you with such puppy like eyes that has you quirking an eyebrow. With a sigh, you open up your arms again and he’s tackling you into another hug once more.

“What took you so long?!” Jimin wails and Yoongi mumbles for him to be quiet for nearby patients.

“I was on vacation with my fiancée, it wasn’t going to just take me a day.” You mumble, but the words cause everyone’s attention to spike up.

“Fiancée?!”

“Is it true Dr. L/N?” Chaeyoung hurriedly questions, eyes bright with excitement, “You and Dr. Kim…?”

You flash her the diamond ring sitting on your third finger and she immediately squeals, clapping her hands. Jimin’s interest is peaked as well when he lets you go and examines the jewelry sitting delicately on your hand.

“Does that mean you and Taehyung made it to fourth bas-“

You glare at him, “Park Jimin, I swear if you even finish that sentence.”

Jimin pouts and you heavily sigh, eyes darting around, “Where’s Jungkook?”

Everyone goes immediately silent, causing you to raise an eyebrow.

“W-Well you see…” Chaeyoung begins, recognizing the guilty expression Jimin holds right away, “Things haven’t going so great for him lately a-and…”

You raise your hand instantly for her to stop, “I know, I came early because someone informed me about what was going on.”

Jimin’s eyes widen and that’s when Namjoon steps forward, softly smiling.

“Everything is a lot more balanced when you have extra hands helping out.” He says and you share a look with him, causing Jimin to look back and forth abruptly.

“But about J-Jungkook, Y/N I-“

“Don’t worry about it,” You smile knowingly, “I’ve already sent someone over to check on him.”

***

There’s a small knock against the door of Jungkook’s office and he exhales, letting his pen roll onto his papers when he glances around.

It looks bad – mugs of banana milk scattered all over the place, something Jungkook doesn’t even drink at work if he doesn’t really need it. There are papers lying around astray and there’s barely any light seeping in, all his windows firmly shut.

He supposes it could be worse and then glances back at the door, thinking that perhaps his fellow doctors were getting concerned about him and that he should reassure them.

“Come in.” He says with a heavy sigh, eyes blinking against the strain of using such poor lighting conditions.

However his eyes blow up completely when the door quietly closes, a familiar man wearing a pair of glasses and a doctor’s coat, taking long strides into the room before he sits down on the chair in the corner, facing Jungkook. He grins, eyes taking in the man’s features after not seeing him when he acquired his new title.

“Nice to see you could make some time for me, Dr. Jeon.”

“D-Dr. Kim?” Jungkook immediately stutters, papers long forgotten when he can’t believe the sight before him, “How…?”

“Namjoon.” Taehyung states, leaning back in his chair as he crosses his legs, “Y/N and I were called back when he felt things were getting too hectic around here. Luckily the two of us were planning on coming back soon anyways.”

“Oh…I see…”

“Enough about me though.” Taehyung cuts to the chase right away, “What’s been going on with you lately?”

Jungkook’s skin instantly flushes, not realizing that the doctor had to come to his office with a whole other intent instead, “I-It’s just personal stuff, I saw one of my old college friends which lead to me running into another college friend and then I was asked out on a date…”

Jungkook doesn’t realize he’s rambling until Taehyung hums, a finger pressed to his lips as he attentively listens. It only occurs to Jungkook at the point too, that so much had happened within the time the two doctors had been gone and he really doesn’t want to rewind so far back when he knows what the accumulation of events had lead up to.

“So this girl…” Taehyung starts off, “Why do you suddenly want to reconnect with her?”

“Because I’ve been out of touch from a lot things since college…” Jungkook sighs, “Since I became this…”

“It isn’t easy. I hope you know that.”

“I do but…before I didn’t want to do anything, I just wanted to focus on becoming a doctor, but now,” Jungkook shakes his head.

“It’s all I have left…”

“You pushed yourself too hard to get here and now you regret doing it.”

Jungkook hums, “And this girl? Is there something you regret with her too?”

“A-Ah yeah…” Jungkook becomes flustered again, scratching his neck, “I regret not getting to know her more, even when I knew she wanted to get to know me.”

He sighs, like he was recalling a handful of bad memories, “I just don’t know if she’s willing to give me another chance after everything…”

“Explain it all to her.” Taehyung says, causing Jungkook to look up in surprise, “If there’s something that’s gone wrong or you regret something you’ve done in the past, then the best way to just explain to the person what happened.”

“B-But I can’t, after what happened at the d-date, I-“

“Jungkook.” Taehyung stops him, “Didn’t you just explain to me what you think went wrong? So why is it so hard to explain the same thing to her, who I can assume would really appreciate hearing the answer more compared to someone like me.”

Jungkook frowns at the words, but it seems to make sense of the catastrophic scramble of thoughts he was having. When he makes eye contact, Taehyung smiles at him, saying something Jungkook would had never expected the stern Dr. Kim to ever say to anyone.

“The past is a hard indicator to get over, but it’s something you need to confront before you can even think of a brighter future.”

Jungkook nods, appreciating that the doctor was able to help make sense of what was ensuring inside his head so calmly, something Jungkook had barely managed to do in the past at all.

“Thank you, Dr. Kim.”

Taehyung approvingly nods, straightening up his glasses as he gets up from the chair, “Anytime.”

But the simple action causes Jungkook’s brow to furrow, a particular sparkle flashing by when the doctor touches his frame.

“Is that a ring on your finger?” He blurts it out and widens his eyes, wondering if that came off as being rude or invasive, but suddenly the doctor’s gaze is glued to the ground, a tint of red beginning to emerge on his skin.

Jungkook smiles, wondering to himself if he’d ever thought he would see the day he’d catch the Dr. Kim flustered by the mere mention of a ring.

***

Just explain everything to her, just like you did with Dr. Kim.

Jungkook quickly locks up his office door, play backing the words in his mind so they don’t escape him in the moment. As he leaves, he notices the faint pitter patter of rain outside and he sighs when he doesn’t have anything but his doctor’s coat to cover himself.

The white cloth covers his head when he slips out of the hospital, rain beginning to fall down at the speed of bullets against the ground. He frowns when his coat is instantly drenched, rain making its way down to his hair before he even knows.

Bright yellow clouds his vision immediately, away from the hazardous rain now pouring down. He whips his head around in confusion, only to see you standing underneath the umbrella with him.

“Hi.” You say softly, but Jungkook can even hear even against the splintering rain. He notices you’re only wearing a thin rose cardigan, the top of it thoroughly soaked.

Following his line of sight, you quickly mumble, “I-I didn’t know when you finished work…”

As if on instinct, Jungkook reaches out and faintly touches your cheek with the back of his hand, an alarming icy temperature greeting him back. He drops his hand right away when he notices the surprise on your expression, realizing that the innate doctor reflexes kicked in too soon for him.

“S-Sorry…”

“No, no, it’s fine.” You shake your head, staring at the ground as you bite down on your lip. It’s still pouring around you at a rapid speed, but it’s the only thing being acknowledged when the two of you stay quiet.

Before you know it, the umbrella loosens from your grip, being raised up higher, “Do you want to come inside? It’s getting even colder out here.”

“Oh I–….“ You trail off immediately, words dying down.

But Jungkook wasn’t going to let you stay quiet, “What is it?”

“I was j-just thinking…we could go somewhere else? Away from the hospital?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen, noticing that you hadn’t entered not only because you didn’t want to intrude, but you felt like it wasn’t even your place to do so.

“Of course.” He starts walking, hand against your back and words gentle, “Away from the hospital.”

You end up walking for quite a while and after Jungkook constantly insisting, you eventually give in and let him drape his now semi-dry coat over your shoulders. It’s incredibly warm in comparison to your skin and you’re grateful after he gives it to you, knowing that the coat held much more significance to him than it does to you.

When Jungkook finds a nearby shop to take refugee under, you quickly follow after him. Although the shop itself is closed due to the late hours, there’s heat coming out from nearby vents that you definitely indulge in.

“At the restaurant–“ Jungkook stops, pausing to correct himself, “On our date, why…why did you leave?”

He wanted to ask you directly but there’s a slip of sadness by him that he couldn’t hold back and he knows you can hear it when you look at him startled.

“I left to dry myself off.” You quickly say, “But then you didn’t come back for so long and the waiters asked me if they could clear the table so I let them. I–…”

A low sigh escapes out from you.

“I-I actually wasn’t expecting you to come back.”

You stare down at the ground as all Jungkook can do is just stare at you, wondering how it had gotten so bad to the point that you didn’t even think he would come back.

Just explain it to her.

“I shouldn’t have left like that.” He turns to you fully, staring at you with the same serious eyes he takes with his work. “And I’m not just talking about the date.”

You look up and blink, eyes widening but Jungkook continues, “I’d like to say that I didn’t know, but I did and I was just…scared.”

“Of what?” You instinctively ask and for a moment, everything disappears. You’re not in the middle of nowhere outside as it pours down like crazy, talking to a doctor after his shift at the hospital. Instead, you’re back in the large expanse of a field, a younger Jungkook staring out at one of the college buildings as you fidget around with the palms of your hands.

Jungkook sighs and you wonder if he’s thought about this before coming here with you today. It leaves you with a spark of hope, something that blossoms in you after far too long.

“I knew what my job was going to be like and what I had ended up choosing wasn’t going to leave me with any time to see you guys again. In a way, I knew I had to leave all of you…”

Jungkook leans forward, eyes more sincere than ever, “So I packed my bags and headed off to Seoul…without saying goodbye…”

Despite being covered by the shop, drops of water fall on ground in the space between the two of you. “I should have been there, at Mingyu’s wedding, when Jaehyun was leaving, when–“

He’s nearly breathless at this point, chest heaving, “When you said you liked me.”

Your breath hitches at the mere mention and for a moment you could have sworn that your heart rate dropped. Suddenly you’re being enveloped by two warm arms and the gesture only causes more water to spill out from your eyes.

“Don’t cry…”

“You can’t expect me to not cry after you say all that.” You chuckle, sniffling a bit as you swipe away some of the tears with your fingertips, “I just wasn’t expecting you to be so upfront with me.”

Jungkook smiles, relieved on the inside that he was able to tell you exactly what he wanted to, “Well you could say a wise man told me that if you’ve felt like you’ve done something wrong and regret it, then it’s best to just be upfront with the person and let them know too.”

You separate from him, “Sounds like a really wise man.”

“He is.”

You share a smile and from a distance away, the rain has finally slowly down, no longer hitting the ground viciously but instead, calmly pooling down. The bright yellow umbrella is held over your head as you walk away from the shop, but it isn’t the only thing that keeps you next to each other’s side.

His fingers are looped within your own the entire way.

***

There are faint sounds in the background, orders being taken swiftly to decrease the growing line that heads outside of the building. A delectable frozen treat sits in front of you, paired off with drizzling chocolate and sprinkles that only has your mouth watering. When you take your spoon and have a mouthful, you can only smile at how it instantly melts and isn’t too sweet or overbearing, but just the right taste.

However, as you take small bites of your treat, the man sitting across from you seems to be having his own struggles.

“Do you need some help with that?”

“Huh?” Jungkook blinks, dressed in a black shirt that’s now splattered with specks of white as he leans over the table, attempting to saw the giant sundae he ordered in half with the back of a spoon.

You laugh, small giggles continuing erupting from you as you walk over with your own spoon, “Here.”

With one huff, both of you plunge your spoons in and there’s a burst of ice cream everywhere, now coating your similar coloured shirt in the process as well.

“Why is this so hard?” Jungkook asks, repeating stabbing the ice cream that refuses to be broken down with barely a splash of liquid reappearing. He slumps down into the booth, crossing his arms as he pouts.

You smile when he looks so similar to a child, but then you slide over the half-eaten ice cream you were just having seconds ago. “Take some of mine.”

His eyes immediately widen and you realize you’ve just implied for the two of you to share ice cream together, so you quickly retract, “I-If you don’t want to, it’s okay!”

He shakes his head, taking his spoon and scooping some out right away. You laugh when you see him eagerly eat it, knowing he’s been watching you eat your own ice cream for an hour as he tossed around with his.

Glancing around, you take in the bright decorations of the shop, multiple people enjoying their ice cream as you and Jungkook sit across from each other. There’s no fancy violin playing in the background, there’s no extravagance to the food or the waiters and most importantly, there seems to be no concrete wall settled in between you.

“This was a good place to pick.” You remark, smiling when you turn to a Jungkook staring at you with a load of ice cream in his mouth, “For a ‘do over’ date.”

He quickly swallows, humming, “I wanted to go somewhere that I picked and without all the interruptions.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, taking a scoop of ice cream yourself.

“Uhh so…” Jungkook bites down on his lip, “I was so nervous for our date that I asked my mentor at my hospital for help, so he dressed me up and picked the restaurant and later in the evening disguised himself and the rest of our staff with horrible looking wigs. He also gave me a script to work around with that I wrote down on my wrist.”

You pound a hand against your chest when a chain of coughs leaves you and Jungkook instantly hands you a napkin. Blinking abruptly, Jungkook doesn’t know if he’s ever seen you look so surprised, “You– wait what?!”

You shake your head, confusion still apparent on your features until you frown, “It makes sense.”

“Really?”

Coming more to terms, you nod, “You seemed off that day, almost like you weren’t yourself. I thought it was because I didn’t see you in so long, so it does make sense.”

Jungkook looks surprised, “I didn’t think it was that obvious.”

“It was.” You hum, “You’re definitely a lot more than what you were showing off to be, but I’m just glad you’re willing to try now.”

“O-Oh…”

You glance up from the ice cream to see him completely taken off guard by your words and suddenly there’s a scatter of red on his cheeks which causes you to giggle.

“You still get shy too?” You tease, laughing when he tries to hide himself underneath the table, not wanting you to see him be so flustered.

Your laughter echoes when Jungkook attempts to steal the ice cream away from you, covering his face so you don’t look at him. The camera begins to pan out and outside the shop, unknown to the two individuals sitting comfortably with each other, there’s a young man caught up in hysteria and blowing his nose.

“H-He’s all grown up!” He cries out, “My Jungkookie is all grown up!”

“He was grown up since day one.” Another low voice mumbles, sighing when the man starts to create a mess of his tears.

“Maybe it’s time his mentor grew up too.”

You stifle a laugh against the bush when the man looks completely offended, placing a hand on his chest as if he’s just been betrayed.

“Tae Tae how could say such a thing?!”

The man with the framed glasses snorts, occupying himself with blowing a dandelion instead when you smirk at him.

“Tae Tae?” You playfully whisper and he groans.

“Don’t even ask.” He gets up, stretching his legs out as he reaches for your hand and pulls you up.

“What? Not going to even help me up?” The blonde man scoffs and you roll your eyes, reaching out so that he can hold onto your hand. “Now that’s all settled, anyone want to grab lunch?”

You hum, but notice that there’s a certain someone still glued to the floor, watching eagerly with his giant binoculars.

“Jimin, come on.” You tug him up with Yoongi’s help, “Let’s give them some privacy.”

“B-But…”

“If you come with us, drinks will be on me.” Taehyung says, catching you all with surprise when the younger man instantly lights up, racing forward.

“What are we waiting for then?!”

You chuckle, glancing at Taehyung, “Nice one.”

He smiles knowingly at you and before leaving, spares a gaze at the once young intern. Before you can follow after Jimin and Yoongi, who are bantering as Jimin clings onto the blonde doctor, a hand stops you.

Taehyung tilts his head, eyes serious, “Those two, what do you think?”

“What do I think?” He nods and you watch them with him, seeing you letting out giggles as Jungkook keeps trying to hide his face, “I think they’ll be alright, they’ve put the past behind them and are starting to walk towards a brighter future.”

You smile and Taehyung reaches out for your hand, the sun’s rays causing a similar sparkle on your both of your hands. Resting your head on his shoulder, you slowly walk behind the excited black-haired doctor and his content blonde-haired friend.

300 notes · View notes

muwur · 4 years

Note

idk if this counts as an emergency or comfort request but ive been havin a REAL bad body image week nsnnnsnnnsnn could i maybe request headcanons for either oikawa or kuroo (u can pick if u wanna) with an s/o who is rlly self conscious about being chubby/has a really hard time with food and mayb feels like worthless because theyre not the ideal body type? idk sorry if thats dumb aaaah thank u sm if u choose to do this

self-love

♡ scenarios ♡ for oikawa and kuroo

❧ gn reader

✎ 3.7k words

a/n: hey hun, im sorry to hear you’ve been having a rough time lately. this kind of request actually rlly hits close to home, and if u ever need anything, ur mor than welcome to reach out to me :) i can also help look for resources for help, anything really. this goes for all y’all! i dont want none y’all to feel alone with anything ur going thru cuz we’re in this together! and no need to thank me, the pleasure is mine luv 🥰💕 nothing about this is dumb, ur feelings are valid. i hope this will bring you n many others some comfort. also,, FUCK BODY STANDARDS MAKIN US BELIEVE THERE’S AN IDEAL TYPE BC THERE IS NONE N Y’ALL R BEAUTIFUL N IF U DUN THINK SO I WILL COME OVER DER,,, ok im done 🥰🥰 (more notes at the bottom of this, i talk a lot n think its important, didnt wanna add it up here bc it was too long lolol) tw: mentions of bad body and implies disordered eating behaviors

oikawa

♡ Oikawa was pretty keen, so when he observed a gradual shift in your behavior, he definitely took notice

♡ One day when you showed up to lunchtime empty-handed and sat with your two friends, casually chatting, Oikawa and Iwaizumi gave you a questioning look

♡ “Where’s your lunch, y/n?” Oikawa asked

♡ “Oh, I, uh, ate it already, actually.”

♡ Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow and offered you some of his, but you declined, thanking him and stating you were already full

♡ Later that day in class, however, Oikawa couldn’t help but notice the absence of your boxed lunch container in your unzipped backpack

♡ The next day, you came empty-handed again, blaming it on your forgetfulness during your rush to get to school

♡ However, it became a normal occurrence over time, and while you seemed fine, uneasiness began to prick inside Oikawa’s stomach

♡ Those smiles you wore appeared fragile, and the laughter that rumbled from your throat felt restrained

♡ You seemed more tired and unfocused than usual

♡ Preoccupied, withdrawn, and distant

♡ He could sense something was bothering you, no matter how much you may (or may not) have tried to hide it

♡ On his way to school one morning, he made sure to stop by a convenience store to pick one of your favorite snacks, thinking it was a simple gesture to brighten up the somber aura he’s been detecting from you

♡ “I have a surprise for you, y/n~” Oikawa announced with excitement, rummaging through his bag to pull out the snack and show it to you. “Look, it’s your favorite!”

♡ You could only offer him an uneasy smile, “Oh, you shouldn’t have...” You really shouldn’t have...

♡ When he noticed the tension in your body and expression, a frown appeared on his lips

♡ “Y/n? Is something wrong?” He reached out to place a comforting hand on your shoulder but you swiftly flinched away

♡ ”I’m fine..!”

♡ Surprised at your sudden movement and outburst, you both felt a split second of apprehension crackle in the air before you started to gather your items in a rush

♡ Sighing, you repeated, “I’m fine.”

♡ He wasn’t sure whether you were speaking to him or yourself

♡ “Thanks for the snack, but I’ll pass. Have it for me. You need it more, anyways; you have volleyball practice. I’ll see you tomorrow, Oikawa,” you offered him a solemn smile and left before he could even reply

♡ Some time had passed before he could finally get you to open up to him

♡ And when you did, it crushed his heart to see how much your insecurities broke you

♡ It hurt to hear how low you thought about yourself; how you couldn’t see the beauty in your being; how you deemed food, your body, and yourself as your worst enemies

♡ Thus bringing you to the conclusion that maybe you’d be happy and like yourself if you could just give up that midday snack or your school lunch

♡ Even raincheck a cafe date you were supposed to have together

♡ Maybe also skip dinner, sometimes breakfast the next morning as well

♡ You could manage on just water

♡ Little sacrifices to shed some weight, feel better, and get closer to your ideal body goals

♡ You admitted, however, to questioning whether any of it was worth it

♡ The constant states of hunger, pain, and defeat you lived in

♡ Only to feel as though you were getting nowhere

♡ Oikawa was well aware of today’s beauty standards. I mean, he himself was often praised for his natural charm and beauty

♡ And you felt you could never reach that ideal

♡ “Oikawa, you’re too good for me.”

♡ His eyebrows knitted in concern as he lifted his right hand to caress your cheek softly. “And why do you say that?”

♡ Tears threatened to prick at your eyes. All you could was stare at the ground in silent shame

♡ When you still said nothing, he leaned in closer, his brown gaze softly pleading

♡ “Y/n, look at me.”

♡ When your eyes flickered up to meet his own, Oikawa asked, “You know I love you, right?”

♡ His question was met with a meek, “Yes.”

♡ From your clouded glaze, he could tell that you had a hard time believing in your own response

♡ “Do you know why?”

♡ But before you could respond, he was already answering his own question

♡ “Well...” he began, glancing up in thought and wearing a small smile

♡ “Something about you makes me want to be by your side. I love to see your smiles and hear your laughter, but I always want to be there to hold you when you’re crying and in pain.”

♡ “You’re supportive. You understand what I need, and I don’t always have to explain myself to you. You take your time with me and make me feel like I can be myself. Not many people have stuck around to actually get to know me. Because of that, you’ve never failed to make my day a little better with just your presence.”

♡ “You’re strong and caring. I can rely on you to have my back, and I hope I provide that same comfort to you as well.”

♡ “I love being able to lazy around with you or go on adventures and discover something new. It’s comfortable and exciting at the same time.”

♡ “Your hands feel like they were made to hold mine.”

♡ He reached down to squeeze your hand gently

♡ “Kissing you makes me forget about everything else on my mind. I can just live in the present with you.”

♡ He moved close and gave you a peck above your eyebrow

♡ “You make me want to work hard and be a better person. You help motivate me to try my best, and you never give up on me. Why would I ever give up on you?”

♡ “I learn something new with you everyday. Like right now, I realize that I’ve never met someone who could so easily make my heart race as they could make my heart break.”

♡ “When I look at you, all I can think about is how beautiful you are and how lucky I am to have you in my life as a partner and one of my best friends. Nobody else could fill the gaps within me the same way you do.”

♡ Leaning over to brush his lips against your forehead, he muttered, “I’m going to love every part of you, inside and out. You’re already my ideal. I couldn’t ask for anything more. I could go on about every detail on why I feel so strongly for you, but I’m here to show you everything there is to appreciate about yourself because you’re worth every ounce of care and effort. And if you can’t see it in yourself right now, I’ll love you more than enough for the both of us until you learn to love yourself. I’m here to help.”

♡ And after crying out your tears into his shoulder as he held you close and rubbed your back, you both went to his house to relax and have some dinner

♡ He was patient with you, taking into account how having a meal may have made you feel anxious

♡ It was something small and simple that you two agreed to prepare and share, after some tender coaxing from Oikawa

♡ He later made a list in his journal about tips to keep in mind:

♡ ‘Check up on y/n often to see how they’re feeling’

♡ ‘Encourage them to eat meals/snacks. Don’t be too pushy, but be patient. Try to have eat with them when you can!’

♡ ‘Remind them they don’t have to earn the right to eat, and that their body doesn’t define their worth‘

♡ ‘Look into some mindfulness techniques!’

♡ ‘Don’t overvalue physical appearance. Also focus on all the other redeeming qualities y/n has! But of course I’m always gonna tell them they look cutee--’

♡ True to his word, he remained understanding

♡ He’s there to listen to you, or to sit with you in comforting silence

♡ During lunch he would share his food with you, reassuring you that it wasn’t something you had to avoid

♡ Some days he succeeds in encouraging you to share a milk bun or your favorite snack with him

♡ And on days you really didn’t feel like it, he never forces anything onto you and instead made sure you at least hydrated

♡ Oikawa spends some time doing research and gathering tips on how to help you

♡ Always reminds you of your worth and how you bring out the best in him

♡ He’ll never hold it against you if you ever become hostile, irritated, or in denial. He knows you’re hurting and doesn’t take it personally

♡ Sends you cute memes with all those emoji hearts

♡ Also some food puns (Oikawa: “I’m soy into you. Please brie mine. We are mint to be. I ap-peach-iate you. You got a pizza my heart. Olive you--” ; You: *puts a hand over his mouth* ; Oikawa: 🥺 ; You: “...olive you, too”)

♡ Always ready to give up what he’s doing to make sure you’re okay

♡ Will stay up with you late at night to talk on the phone

♡ Reminds you you’re beautiful at least 8 times a day

♡ If y’all ever go shopping and you try things on in the fitting room,, Oikawa would be your #1 hype man

♡ One time you tried something on, and you were almost too ashamed to step out and show him

♡ But when you did, you were met with his surprise and excitement

♡ “dfghjklkuyfuh” was all you could process from his incoherent speech before he insisted on treating you by purchasing it for you (Oikawa: “Can you wear this for me, like, everyday?” ; You: *weird look* “Why are you like this??” you love it tho--)

♡ Gushes internally over how cute you are during your movie + cuddle sessions, mostly pays attention to you rather than the movie

♡ Mid-movie be like:

♡ Oikawa: “So, uh, what’s happening again?

♡ You: -.- “You might as well google the whole synopsis instead of watching it”

♡ Oikawa: “...it’s not my fault you’re distracting, babe”

♡ Always politely excuses himself from his fangirls to get to you. Also reassures you he much prefers to be with you than anyone else and that you’re the best catch ;)) (You: “Oikawa, no” ; Oikawa: “y/n, yes”)

♡ Suggested doing some meditation together once

♡ You listened to a recording and you sat side by side on a mat, but Oikawa thought the person’s voice sounded funny so he had a hard time focusing

♡ But it ended with y’all laughing and making jokes as he lay his lead on your lap and you played with his hair

♡ Y’all get better at it tho

♡ Cooking dates! To try to show you that food isn’t an enemy and can bring people together :)

♡ Puts music on so y’all can jam together (Oikawa: “Oh my gosh, y/n, this is my favorite song, you’re not even rEADY to see me perform-- ; You: “Oikawa, t-the food! It’s burning!!”)

♡ Cooking dates also show that you should never leave the stove unattended

♡ Every once in a while he suggests seeking professional help. He wishes he could take away your pain and help you all his own, but he knows this is more complicated and required outside help, too

♡ Has help resources READY

♡ As well as small snacks like granola bars for you if you ever feel faint

♡ He doesn’t hesitate to confront you when he feels it’s necessary and he’s worried about your habits

♡ He handles things well, though, and often convinces you to take care of yourself more, even though he’s there to look after you

♡ Has made it his mission to help you win against your battle with insecurities

♡ Overall, he’s very caring and empathetic, hoping one day you’ll see yourself the way he sees you 💖 : strong, amazing, breathtaking, & perfectly imperfect

kuroo

♡ Occasionally, you would think about the day you broke down in front of him

♡ Your body racked with repressed whimpers as you tried to wipe the tears from your eyes and describe the recent state of your mind through choked sobs

♡ Lately, your thoughts were being especially relentless in making you feel miserable

♡ Oftentimes you’d be able to shove the negative thoughts to the back of your mind and carry on your day as usual, expertly acting as though everything in your life was going smoothly

♡ However, you found yourself fighting a losing battle against your own conscious, heavily preoccupied with thoughts of your own worthlessness

♡ And so you tried to cope

♡ But you were painfully aware of everything you felt was wrong with you

♡ You felt uncomfortable in your skin

♡ Every time you passed by your own reflection, you couldn’t help but mentally recoil at the image looking back at you

♡ Your clothes didn’t fit right

♡ Even when you opted for baggy clothes, you felt like you were taking up all the space in them

♡ Maybe it was the weight gain. You could see and feel it in your face, your arms, your stomach, your legs... everywhere

♡ You just wanted to hide away your shame

♡ Perhaps it was the dessert you allowed yourself to eat the other day. Foolish of you to think then that you wouldn’t regret it as much as you did afterwards

♡ As a consequence of those foolish actions, you made mental notes about anything and everything you ate. What it was, how much of it you had, etc

♡ Trying to restrict so that maybe you would lose some weight and come to like how you look

♡ Your obsessive thoughts of food and weight overtook your mind like a dark cloud

♡ Your favorite foods, which before would never fail to brighten your mood, taunted you with shame and guilt

♡ Exercise? Sometimes it was an activity you genuinely enjoyed. Other times, a chore that made you feel shitty or numb and reinforced your unhealthy desire to lose

♡ And you sometimes found yourself crying over your last meal, one you know you didn’t need. One you didn’t deserve

♡ And each time you released the reins on your self-control, you felt pathetic going against the vow you made to yourself

♡ At this rate, you’d never be beautiful or be happy with yourself

-You’d remain unworthy, fat, disgusting--

-But before you could continue, your story was cut off by the impact of Kuroo’s embrace

-Your surprise silenced your sobs, and you could only stare wide-eyed at the space in front of you as you felt his arms squeeze tightly around your frame

-You both sat there for a few moments on your knees, with your back lightly leaning against a wall

- “I’m sorry for the pain you’re experiencing,” he begins softly. “Thank you for sharing with me. It must’ve taken a lot for you to do that.”

-He was right. It was your first time reaching out to another person about this. It was the last thing you thought you would’ve done today

- “I want to let you know that you shouldn’t be ashamed for feeling this way. Reaching out is important and brings you the help you need to get better. I know you might not want help right now or think that these thoughts and behaviors are a problem. However, telling me about all this shows that some part of you is recognizing there’s something wrong and you can’t always handle it on your own.”

-There were many reasons you kept this to yourself. You didn’t want to bother anyone else. Your problems seemed so trivial. You worried saying them aloud would confirm your beliefs. You were scared people would see you differently. You--

-The intrusive thoughts never failed to make you feel ashamed

-However, it was oddly comforting to release the pent up emotions. To know you didn’t have to bottle up this burden anymore, and that you weren’t alone

-You were about to murmur in response when,

- “Also, you’re an idiot, y/n.”

- “Wow, thanks, as if I don’t already think that about myself,” you bit back in response

-You were about to shove him away just when he released his grip around your body and placed his hands on your shoulders

-His eyes shone with determination and a faint, inviting smile spread on his lips

- “You are the one of the single most important things in my life. I just mean you’re an idiot in the sense that you’re overevaluating one aspect to define your whole self. You’ve forgotten about all your other redeeming qualities that contribute to who you are.”

♡ “Your size, weight, shape; none of that matters. What matters is your health and happiness. Neglecting yourself in order to reach an ‘ideal’ that you’ve concluded is the answer to your self-worth is only bringing you farther away from what you truly want.”

♡ “I don’t mean to downplay any of your emotions or how significant this is to you. Your first step was to put your trust into someone else about this. That’s done. Now, I’m here to help you undergo self-evaluation and serve as encouragement on your journey to self-love and acceptance.”

♡ “I also want to remind you progress is not linear. There will be times when things are harder, and that’s okay; it’s part of the process. If you’re open to getting better in the future, I’m sure as hell going to be there every step of the way.”

♡ And with a soft peck to the forehead and another hug, he nuzzled into your neck and muttered, “I love you. And I want you to love yourself. So, please, allow me to help you through this and I guarantee that by the end of it all, it’ll have been so worth it.”

♡ Unsure what to say, you gripped his jacket tighter, buried your head in his shoulder, and muttered, “Thank you.”

♡ While the negative feelings about yourself remained afterward, you were relieved that your boyfriend was supportive and calm

♡ He treated you the same as always, teasing you over dumb things while making you feel like you stood among the highest peaks on Earth

♡ The day after, he had shown up to your house, weary-eyed and carrying his backpack

♡ “Kuroo? Why are you here? Also, why do you look so tired??”

♡ He stepped into your house with a yawn. He stretched his arms, then reached for his bag and whipped out his laptop

♡ “I stayed up a bit last night to do some research, babe! I also learned a lot about nutrition and molecular gastronomy, so I could help you come up with a meal plan that you’re okay with!”

♡ You were touched he was educating himself on how to help you

♡ But you drew the line at the science jokes-- (Kuroo: “You know you love them.” ; You: “‘Na’ I don’t.” ; Kuroo: :ooo “Did you just-- Marry me.”) (Na = sodium lol)

♡ His nutritional research helped you to learn the contents of food beyond calories; mans explains the vitamins, nutrients, amino acids, etc in them that you need and their benefits

♡ “Trout, avocados, and almonds have vitamin E, which is good for your skin! Oh, and don’t get me started on bananas. Yes, they have carbs (which your body needs anyway as a source of energy!), but POTASSIUM?? Shit’s gonna regulate your fluid balance, maintain heart health, stimulate normal muscle function, AND help your brain to communicate with the rest of your body!”

♡ ALSO cooking dates; just as chaotic (“Aw mannn, the egg exploded all over the microwave!” dont ask y it was being microwaved)

♡ Over time, he’s taken mental notes about your thoughts, feelings, triggers, etc

♡ He’s quick to pick up on your mood and will always ask you how you’re doing

♡ Tries to do something special for you on days you’re especially not feeling well, like taking you on a spontaneous date! (You: “Do you know how to ice skate?” ; Kuroo: “Uhh,,, after today, I will hopefully”)

♡ But will also opt for staying in with you and cuddling when you don’t want to go out (Kuroo: “I heard this movie is soooo bad! ...wanna watch it?”)

♡ Invited you to the beach with his team during the first week of summer

♡ You were unsure about this, since that meant going out in public, potentially with minimal clothing

♡ You initially sat on a beach towel under an umbrella, wearing the security of a T-shirt. He’d been aware of how you felt ever since he asked you to come, so he would sit with you and link an arm around your shoulder

♡ “I’m lucky I get to spend this day with you,” he’d say. “You look gorgeous. You always do. Now, I wanna see you smile and have fun. Let’s go take a dip, yeah?” He offered his hand, which you shyly took, and pulled you up

♡ Then immediately picked you up and started running to the water to get you soaking wet, and you were forced to ditch the heavy, waterlogged shirt

♡ However, you silently thanked him for his sweet words, making you feel secure enough to just forget your worries and enjoy the warm sun and cool water

♡ He also tries his best to lessen your anxieties over food and often shares/eats meals with you

♡ Reminds you everyday how much you’re worth to him and that there’s nothing about you that needs to change

♡ This sweet, protective, n smart boi will treat you how you deserve. It’s a guarantee he’ll be there through thick and thin, and he’s excited for the day you realize you’re just as amazing as he knows you are 💕

a/n: oop this was rlly long lol mb, i just may or may not personally know a bit about this so i went oFF

also neded to some som silly n fluff bc we all need dat

also, these r like kinda hc’s ?? but also a deconstructed oneshot/scenario?? bc they provide some rly brief bg story? one from more of the character perspective while the other more on y/n before we get to the hc’s about how he treats y/n. how everyone struggles w body image is different n i wanted to portray a bit of what it felt like and how it could manifest in ppl’s behaviors/thoughts. however, this is not to say that everyone feels exactly like this. what i wrote only represents a fraction of it all.

by providing some sort of bg i hope im not making u feel like this isnt u or that u cant relate, pls lmk if i need to change anything to make it right for u <3 ok now im actually done sry long author’s note rfguhofe this is just rlly important to me y’all , stay safe n take care, much luv for u <3

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu reader insert #haikyuu x reader angst #oikawa x reader #kuroo x reader #oikawa tooru #kuroo tetsurou #haikyuu x reader fluff #tw

65 notes · View notes

divine-draws · 4 years

Text

okay i had a whole google doc that i wrote a buncha shit but imma try to CONDENSE it and make my ideas more clear bc there was some wishy washy in there. BUT dabihawks ice skating au bc im gay for that shit. all of it under the cut bc this shit is gunna get LONG. buckle in fuckers. ALSO FEEL FREE TO ASK ME ABOUT this i will be happy to answer shit :3c

SO fair warning before we begin. i know shit about ice sports. im like 1) not THAT educated nor have i legit participated though ive always wanted to and 2) this is just self indulgent so like if i dont get shit right or whatever dont come at me bro. im here to have FUN and live a bit vicariously. also as for location of all this shit i dont know and dont care and am american so my perspective on things are skewed. anyway cw: abuse mention

so dabi (touya) is a previous figure skater

he’s a figure skating prodigy

enji was a pro hockey player (id say figure skating but this man was BUILT like a brick shithouse idk man) has a lot of championships under his belt but doesnt even begin to touch the legacy of his one sided rival yagi toshinori

him and rei meet and marry at a young age. she like.. actually liked him then?? shit was kinda okay but things kinda.... got bad quick. the abuse etc was ... yeah. she ends up having dabi and fuyumi (they’re twins babeyy) at a young age too and kinda doesnt feel like she can get out of her horrible marriage

we wont dwell too much on the bad part of all of this though. anyway rei was a figure skater

p well known and known for her fucking GRACE god she moved so well on the ice.

she was so beautiful and spoke through her movements and enji loved that... and so as a hockey player and with a (now previous) figure skater wife he was like aight my kids WILL take up an ice sport and be the FUCKING BEST

dabi isnt made for hockey. enji tries to get him into it but it’s... nah... fuyumi isnt the best with figure skating. she’s good!! and her and dabi do some pair skating when they’re younger but it’s.. hm. dabi is the one with the clear talent here. (fuyumi is a beast on the ice when it comes to hockey though. will dominate. but she kinda... didnt really continue with it)

enji isnt PLEASED that his son isnt gunna be a hockey player but he still values figure skating and will fucking make sure he’s the BEST at it. and so the brutal training starts. he gets some good coaches and also takes up the coaching mantle

the thing is.. rei was amazing as a skater but her body just... wasnt really made for all of that??? and dabi unfortunately kinda inherited that. his body hates the impacts and such. he’s amazing at figure skating. he has a grace similar to his mothers but there’s something more fierce to him.

and honestly !!! he gets far!!

also natsuo comes around. he’s a bit too clumsy for either sport and resents the fact that him and fuyumi are neglected by their father. he also loves touya and gets so pissed seeing his brother so hurt

and shouto is born and this kid was made to be on the ice. he’s skating from the moment he can fucking stand on his own.

obvs enji’s attention is split but it’s mainly on touya who is winning championships and GOING places but it’s still not good enough

anyway idk how far he goes?? but it’s the biggest competition yet and on ice mid routine he lands wrong

one thing leads to the next and he’s pretty much medically retired from a young age. he can skate. he can still kinda preform but he cant do what he used to at ALL and he cant keep up with the brutal pace enji sets. there’s a lot of trying to push him still and it’s just.. not happening

for all it’s worth dabi is kinda glad he isnt doing it anymore. but he fears for his babies brother. shouto is a natural and while yes being a professional athlete of any sort is brutal on your body, his body is a lot more capable

but like touya before, shouto is pushed to his absolute limits. bleeding and injuries and puking his guts out from being pushed too far

there’s a lotta resentment but he still pushes through w skating.

(side note but there DEF is some todomido/tododeku w hockey player izuku who ends up being coached by THE yagi toshinori and who helps shouto out w making shit his own)

anyway so in the end dabi ends up working at a rink tho lol

it’s p much owned by shigarai and run by the lov (who in this au end up making their own little ragtag unofficial local hockey team p much and play games against other teams like them)

despite his father’s whole career, dabi does enjoy playing hockey with these dipshits

but yeah he enjoys his time working at the rink, fucking around and sleeping in random places and sometimes running the zamboni

he’s also best frenemies with shigaraki. they get along and both deal with a shitty upbringing and despite some slight animosity they both would kill if someone fucked w the other

(also at some point dabi DEF teaches some little kid classes lol)

also dabi does sometimes skate his own routines from time to time. only when he’s alone really. though fuyumi has a pass to be there though he will gripe still

SO HAWKS AM I RIGHT??

now there is a couple ways to go with this and somewhere in me there is an au with hockey player hawks who takes skating lessons from figure skater dabi BUT

i think for this au we’ll just say he was a figure skater from the get go

i think he WANTED to do hockey as a kid. like shouto he’s also a fucking natural and was skating as soon as he could fucking stand and walk. and he looked up to enji and kinda wanted to take up hockey but

listen,,, trans hawks. who wanted to be like todoroki enji and be a pro hockey player. shit just.. didnt work like that though and besides he’s a tiny dude and god he’d be fucking obliterated

he kinda is self taught and the ice is his escape from his shitty home life

idk how this works but listen gotta tie in the commission somehow???

he’s scouted or whatever for figure skating at a very young age and his mom is happy to take the heavy scholarships and happy to sign him over to skate for these ppl and have them push him to be The Best

and this kid is FAST. he’s fast and is insane with his jumps and stg it almost looks like he’s FLYING (which gets him the nickname hawks)

the coaches are brutal and shit sucks and a lot of the time it kinda sucks the life out of the sport but he still enjoys it

he has a love for outfits that legit have flare to them (also im thinking of johnny weir’s one outfit w the feathers but yknow instead of white they are RED) and while he does do routines to boring ass music he mainly likes doing shit different (also dabi was p much forced the whole time to do shit to that boring ass music but on his own he’d use his own music taste to skate to)

and he’s good!! he GOES places. he’s like makes it to the olympics at a young age and is one of THE youngest gold medalists for figure skating

im sure somewhere along the line him and dabi DID meet. it was at some competition and hawks was VIBRATING bc there’s ENJI and he wants and autograph and oH GOD IS THAT HIS SON??? he’s HOT. (and at this time dabi still had his red hair and like no piercings and what little ones he had they were out but this dumbass will not recognize him later on)

but god he needs to chill TF out or he will fuck up in the competition

he hears about dabi’s whole accident and like feels for him but again it’s not like they were friends. there was more of a slight rivalry and they barely spoke if they did

but so idk like.. between seasons hawks finds himself going like nearly every day to this rink.. aka shigaraki’s rink (also sidenote but lbr it’s really run by shirakumo who kinda has to fucking herd the cats w this group)

as frenemies dabi and shigaraki share their distaste for some of these pro athletes (tho some get a pass) and kinda complain about hawks a bit tho like..... shigaraki cant complain TOO much bc of the money from hawks renting out the rink for a few hours almost every day

dabi is too gay for this shit when he actually sees hawks in action. rip him

tbh they dont really interact tho (besides dabi telling him to gtfo the rink or he’ll run him over with the zamboni) until one day that hawks catches dabi skating

he was done and should have been gone but he forgot something on the bleachers and then he sees dabi and.. oh boy he’s GAY AF

and also dabi is RLLY GOOD???

and so hawks makes a FOOL of himself and startles the poor guy and p much presses all the wrong buttons w asking why he doesnt compete or something

and i mean im sure they had some SLIGHT progress w talking before. nothing significant but god the walls go RIGHT THE FUCK UP and dabi is pissed

tbh dabi was gunna get to the point where he LEGIT talked to him and maybe lowkey asked him out (he says this but shigaraki calls his bluff) and now there is no way. he storms off and tries to avoid him so hard

and hawks tries to corner him a bit but after some time he does manage to corner him and be like pls just let me take you out to dinner to make up for that shit????

aaand dabi accepts bc listen okay he cant say no to free food ??? like he’s kinda pissy w this guy but also.. listen he has EYES

anywayyy p much this just leads to them dating

hawks DEF looks him up and watches all the vids of him and like the idiot he is realizes that he met him before ( “oh my GOD i know you” “uh… we’re dating i hope u know me?????” “nO I MEAN WE MET AT (insert comp)”)

but before that dabi did like tell him some shit. mainly about like how he used to skate blah blah and the whole thing that ended all of that

he doesnt really delve too deep into like his shitty childhood until well later

idk what leads to it but the convo finally comes up and it’s so draining for dabi and hawks is horrified and ready to fight his dad (“listen i just sharpened my skates i’ll just-”)

anyway some side things bc this is long and i will answer questions on this tho

rumi is a women’s pro hockey player and fuyumi who actually follows hockey and shit has the BIGGEST crush on her (they end up together)

also natsuo comes to see one of the leagues games (he hasnt really seen them play tbh?? he hears about it from dabi but he lives like at least a few hours away on campus and is going for med school so rip him) and like he meets shigaraki and anyway dabi is losing his FUCKING MIND bc his best frenemy/boss and his younger brother are FLIRTING. RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM???

dabi and hawks are really gay together and have skated together by this point and made out on ice a few times and shigaraki was miserable and is like “NOW U KNOW!!” and dabi is pissed bc “yEAH BUT THAT”S MY LITTLE BROTHER??? IT”S NOt thE SAME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

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ohshit-itsyagorl · 4 years

Text

Four Dipshits and a Michelle

Part 1

Hey, Loves! This is a fanfiction I’ve been working on recently. Hope you like it!

Summary: Michelle never believed in soulmates. But what happens when she turns seventeen and gets her mark? What happens when she inevitably finds the person with the matching tattoo? And what is she supposed to do with Peter Parker. Her best friend in the whole world. Her crush. Someone she feels drawn to for some inexplicable reason.

Michelle Jones never understood the infatuation human society had with soulmates.

As a little girl full of hopes and dreams, she admits she was rather fond of the idea: someone out there who was perfect for her, someone who she could share her life with, her soul-bonded partner.

Until her mom got sick. And her dad started treating his wife like his own personal punching bag and then left them with barley enough money to get by. And that sucked, but Michelle could deal with it. She really could.

(But she was not okay.)

But after that initial honeymoon phase, after seeing a relationship that was supposedly written in the cosmos fall apart, she was wrenched back to a sad, logical reality.

After giving up on her soulmate, she found it grating how often it came up in seemingly normal discussion.

This, Michelle thought, was rather ridiculous, considering they were all freshman in high school, and wouldn’t be turning 17 for at least two years, three for most of them.

When she woke up on the morning of February 27th, she was not expecting the day to be anything special or different.

Trudging to the bathroom, half asleep with hair in her mouth, she thought she might pass out. Damn her for opting to take the PCB (physics, then chemistry, then biology) route instead of being normal like almost every other kid at Midtown Tech.

The only bonus to PCB was that she had the same kids in her science class every year. Betty and Cindy and Ned and Peter. The only downside was Flash, who was insufferable on the very best of days. He was also on the PCB track.

(Ugh.)

Point was, Michelle had stayed up super late the previous night studying for a massive test with Peter and Ned, and she was absolutely exhausted.

(Physics could be a bitch sometimes.)

“Hey, Sweetie, how did you sleep?” Her mom was laying on the couch, nose shoved into her book, right arm hooked up to an IV. When Michelle didn’t answer immediately, she looked up and let out a soft oh. “Rough night?” She asked.

Michelle sighed. “Yeah. Big test today. Studied with the losers last night.”

“Well, good luck, honey.” MJ started walking toward the door. “Oh, and, Michelle? Don’t call your friends losers.”

Michelle ran a hand through her hair, the chocolate curls a tangled mess perched atop her head.

————————————————————

“Hey, MJ.” Michelle looked up to see Peter waving at her, toothy grin and glasses and a dark blue sweater. She narrowed her eyes, shaking her head. Too early, Idiot.

Physics went as well as could be expected. Lunch was a different story.

“I can’t wait,” Betty said dreamily. “I wonder what they’ll look like.”

“I wonder what my soulmark will be,” Ned said, looking up from his English notes. “With my luck, it’ll be worse than that senior with a foot tattooed down the right side of his face.”

Michelle snorted. “Yeah, maybe it’ll be a giant dick or something.”

“Maybe yours’ll be a unicorn, MJ. You know, to match your personality,” Ned fired back.

She stiffened, looking around at the group. ‘‘I don’t want a soulmate,” she muttered.

“What? Why not?” Cindy exclaimed, her eyes almost comically wide.

Peter looked up at that. His glasses had fallen down his nose considerably, and he shoved them back up his face. Dork.

Michelle shrugged. “I just don’t. They’re pointless.”

“Well,” Peter started, “maybe one day you’ll change your mind.”

She rolled her eyes. “Not likely, Parker.”

“Tell that to your soul-bonded partner.”

A soft chorus of oohs echoed from the Table around her. She needed new friends.

“Whatever. Even if I find my soulmate, I’ll just avoid them like the plague. Shouldn’t be that hard with all my practice when it comes to you lot.”

Peter let out a small uh-huh, and went back to whatever the hell it was he was doing.

It wasn’t like she and Peter didn’t argue. As best friends, it was kind of part of the job description. But Peter and Ned already knew how she felt about soulmates and soulmarks. Michelle was surprised he had pushed her on that front. Weird.

She cleared her throat.

—————————————————————

Sophomore year rolled around, and with it came Academic Decathlon. Michelle befriended Liz almost immediately. She was so nice, and perfect, and smart.

About halfway through the year after a field trip for AcaDec, Peter missed school for over a week. Something about catching a bug on the trip. On day 10, Michelle went to his apartment.

May opened the door. “Oh, hey, MJ! Peter is in his room. He’ll be glad to see you,” she said, a smile gracing her face.

Michelle walked past May with a small nod of acknowledgement. When she entered Peter’s room, she was fairly surprised to see that he, in fact, did actually look very sick. He was on the floor covered in sweat and shaking.

“Ohmigod, Peter! Are you okay?”

“Oh, MJ. Didn’t know you cared. How sweet of you,” he managed through chattering teeth.

“I don’t, Loser. Here,” Michelle leaned down, “let me help you to your bed.”

“No!” Peter scrambled backward over a pile of schoolwork, the pages sticking to his hands. The sweat, probably, thought Michelle

She quirked an eyebrow.

“I, uh—I don’t want to get you sick, is all,” he explained.

“Whatever, Loser,” she said. “I brought you your schoolwork, so… here you go.” She dropped the stack onto his unoccupied bed, spared Peter one more glance, shrugged, and turned to walk out of the room.

“MJ, wait. Thank you, for, uh, for the schoolwork.”

She flipped him off on the way out the door. Weirdo.

Peter started changing after that. He started filling out his shirts more. She figured he had started working out or something.

Not that she was looking at him. Because she wasn’t.

He no longer wore glasses, and dropped out of marching band and robotics club. He disappeared at nationals, showing up only for the ride home after the fiasco at the Washington Monument (of all the times to gain a rebellious streak AcaDec nationals was not the time or the place). Michelle glared at him nonstop for a week after that.

People started avoiding the topic of soulmates and soulmarks around her, knowing it was a touchy subject.

Over the course of the year, Michelle grew closer to Peter and Ned than the other kids in Acadec.

—————————————————————

“MJ?” Peter looked back at her from where he was squatting down in front of the DVD player. He was wearing sweats and a math pun t-shirt that stretched tightly across his chest. His arms across his legs were lithe and muscled. How had she never noticed before…

And she was staring. Michelle blushed furiously. Peter smirked. She flipped him off. He chuckled.

“What do you want?” She asked. His hair was gelled back like every day, but it was a bit mussed, falling onto his forehead. Her blood heated. She wanted to run her fingers through his hair, wondered how soft it would be.

Peter ran a hand through said hair, biting his lip. “Have you—uh—have you ever seen The Princess Bride?” He asked.

MJ rolled her eyes. This boy. “Bits and pieces. I was never really interested in that mushy, gushy, sappy shit. Besides, we are not watching that.”

“Uh, yeah, we are. It’s simply tragic how your previous social circle failed you,” he said, scrunching his nose up. It was cute annoying.

Michelle squinted at him, mouth becoming a thin line. He smiled back innocently. She flipped him off. Again.

She relented in the end.

Peter hopped up next to where she was sitting, stretching his arms up and over the back of the couch. Michelles’s eyes snagged on the bit of exposed skin where his shirt had ridden up. Were those… abs? She shook her head, looking back toward the now-glowing TV screen. Her nerdy best friend Peter Parker could not have abs. But.

Michelle had to admit that the movie wasn’t actually as bad as she had initially thought. The reason for that was mostly Peter. The absolute dweeb was acting out the fight scenes with himself. Watching Peter try and punch and defend himself at the same time was pretty funny.

MJ looked over at Peter during the end of the movie. He was looking at her.

“Why don’t you believe in soulmates?” He blurted, then proceeded to clap a hand over his mouth. “Shit, I’m sorry. You really, uh, really don’t have to answer that.”

And maybe it was the laughter they had shared together. Maybe it was the way she felt safe around him, or how his hair curled behind his ears, but, “My parents were soulmates. It—it didn’t work out."

That was all she was willing to share.

Peter nodded, swallowing thickly and looking back to the movie. “I think Ned’s right,” he said. Michelle raised an eyebrow at him. He cleared his throat, “Your soulmark is definitely going to be a unicorn. Or a pegasus. Or a rainb—”

“Shut up, Parker.”

Peter raised his hands defensively, grinning.

They talked for another hour, but Peter couldn’t seem to drop the conversation about soulmates.

“Hey, MJ?” He said, giving her a curious look.

Michelle hummed.

Peter ran a hand through his hair. With all the posing while acting out the movie, it looked like he had just gotten out of bed. Maybe even just had—

No. Best friend. Peter was her best friend. Nothing more.

“On your birthday,” he ventured, “when you get your mark, will you tell me about it? We could, like, make fun of each other’s or something. Once I get mine, that is.”

Michelle hesitated. Then: “Sure, okay. Yeah, that sounds good.”

Peter beamed at her and her heart did a backflip. It was worth talking about her soulmark to see that smile, different from his usually timid upturned lips. She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Awesome! What are best friends for if not to make fun of shit,” he said.

Best friend. The words stung a bit, even if they were true.

-----------------------------------------------------

Junior year came faster than any of them expected, and with it, standardized testing. Michelle was sad that Liz had moved away the year prior when her dad was caught selling alien technology illegally, but she was excited to be team captain this year. She, Peter, and Ned had all celebrated with aLord of the Rings movie marathon, but over the past few months, Peter and Ned had been sharing hushed conversations. MJ wasn’t sure what was going on, but it made her feel kind of shitty—like she was being pushed out of their friend group.

But then Peter would shoot her a shy smile, and she would feel a little better. There was definitely something going on, though.

Betty got her mark over the summer—a small cat’s eye in the palm of her left hand—but she had had no luck finding the person with the matching tattoo, much to her chagrin.

Michelle truly felt like she was rocketing toward her birthday. Somehow, she and Peter had found a way to turn her soulmate into a bit of a joke, which helped. A little.

That’s how Michelle found herself on the phone with Peter, wearing a tank top and shorts in the middle of winter, watching the seconds tick down to midnight.

“I’m so excited,” Peter said over the phone. “I can’t wait to see if it’s a unicorn or a pegasus.”

“Can it, Parker,” Michelle snapped. She was strangely terrified, though she wasn’t sure why.

“Okay, Magic Princess Unicorn—”

“I mean it, Pete.”

“Ten seconds, MJ.”

“Shit,” she whispered, hands shaking as she hastily put Peter on speaker, and set down the phone, turning to face the floor-length mirror.

“Do you see anything?” He asked. Did he sound… nervous?

Michelle scanned her arms and legs in the mirror, turned around and did the same on the back. “Fuck.”

“What?” Peter said, voice crackling over the phone. “What is it? Is it a Unicorn?”

“No,” Michelle gasped out. “I don’t see anything.”

It was true she didn’t want anything to do with her soulmate, but it did hurt that she didn’t even have one.

She let out a sob, then slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide.

“MJ—MJ, calm down. It’s probably just somewhere else. Try taking your clothes off.” Michelle felt her toes curl into the carpet, her breath hitched. “Fuck,” Peter said. “I didn’t mean it like that—fuck, that came out wrong.”

You don’t need to apologize, Michelle thought. Instead, she nodded, then, realizing he couldn’t see her over the phone, she cleared her throat and said, “No, I get it—what you meant, I mean.” She cringed, Christ, she was absolutely horrible at this. “God, I hope it’s not on my ass.”

Peter let out a bark of laughter. Michelle smiled, then remembered her situation, frowned.

“Stop frowning, you’ll get premature wrinkles,” Peter said.

Michelle frowned deeper. “How do you know I’m frowning?”

“I know you, MJ. Now stop frowning. There’s only one way to know if you have a tattoo on your ass,” Peter said, choking on the last word. “Just check.”

Michelle loosed a breath. “Okay. I guess you’re right.”

She turned back toward the mirror, reaching for the waistband of her shorts and underwear, pulling them both down at the same time. Nothing on the front. She shimmied around a bit, before giving in and stepping out of her shorts. She glanced over her shoulder into the mirror. Nothing.

She took off her tank top next, checking her back first, since she was already facing in that direction. Still nothing. She turned around and ran her fingers over her stomach. Nothing there, either. Goddammit.

She slowly reached back to unclasp her bra and let it slide down her arms. “Mother fucker,” she said quietly.

She’s not sure how, but Peter heard her. “MJ? What’s the status? Did you find it?”

“Yeah, I did. And I fucking hate the universe.” She hissed.

Peter laughed nervously. “Well, what is it? Where is it?”

“Like hell I’m telling you!” MJ screeched.

“C’mon, Michelle, we had a deal!” Peter said. She could picture him laying down in bed, then sitting up abruptly, hair mussed like that night they had watched The Princess bride together. And that strip of skin she’d glimpsed and—fuck, she was thinking about him while she was naked.

“Peter, I literally had to take all my clothes off just to find it. I am not telling you about this ever. God, this is so humiliating.” Michelle looked in the mirror again and winced. Staring back a her was her naked body, dark skin gleaming in the moonlight, curls coming down over her breasts. She moved her hair out of the way to get a better look at her mark, and… there it was. A fist-size black spider sitting in the middle of her left breast, right over her nipple. She groaned, burying her face in the crook of her elbow.

“Oh, c’mon, M. It can’t be that bad,” Peter said.

“It’s bad, Pete,” Michelle sighed. “Well, at least this way my soulmate won’t be able to see my mark.”

Michelle stroked a finger over one of the spider’s legs and shivered. Peter swore over the phone.

“What?” Michelle asked.

“Nothing,” Peter said, though his voice was shaky. “Just got a shiver. That’s what I get for not wearing a shirt.

This boy.

And now she was picturing him shirtless. Fuck. With that mussed-up hair. Double-fuck. She looked down to find that the hand near her breast had grabbed on, kneading the soft flesh. Holy mother of god, an infinite amount of fucks. But it felt good. Really good. She let out a quiet moan.

“MJ? What’s going on, are you okay?” How the ever-living hell did Peter keep hearing her? She could barely hear herself.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she managed. Thankfully she sounded normal, if not a little breathy. “Just a little messed up after seeing the mark, you know? I wasn’t expecting to feel so… attached to it.” Because that’s what it was, she realized. She could already feel her connection to someone else, and she hated herself for loving it, for craving that sensation to be stronger.

“Okay. We should probably both go to sleep anyway,” Peter said. “I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?” He sounded worried, but he was willing to give her space. That was one of the things she valued most about their friendship.

“Yeah,” Michelle said. Then, when she heard him start to shift, presumably on his bed (God help her), she interrupted, “and, Peter?” He hummed in response. “Put a shirt on. It’s cold out.”

He grunted. “Yeah, will do, M.”

Somehow Michelle got the feeling he wasn’t going to put on a shirt. Idiot.

Part 2

#peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #spideychelle #soulmate #soulmarks #peter x michelle #michelle jones #eventual smut #masterbation #best friends #au #peter parker soulmate

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weartirondad · 4 years

Text

Chaos, Yet Harmony

Summary: 3 times Peter made Tony watch Star Wars and the 1 time it was Tony's idea.Or: Peter Parker is unapologetically a geek and Tony quickly realizes that there's nothing he wouldn't do for him.

A/N: this is part of the @irondadsecretsanta and is my gift for @aslanscompass. It was a ton of fun & I wish you all a wonderful Christmas <3

Check out all the other AMAZING fics HERE !

FF.net I ao3

Tony was wary when he answered the call at 10 past eleven at night.

He had learned early on that late night calls from teenage vigilantes were never a good sign and that, really, a call at any time from a teenager was a rarity and should always raise a red flag. So, yeah, he was wary but he felt like he was entitled to.

Next to him his fiancée was curled around the dark green plush blanket like a cat and regarded him, staring at the lit up screen of his phone, in amusement. “Don’t yell too much.”

He rolled his eyes and accepted the call, “No promises.”

“Mr. Stark?” came the breathless voice of none other than Peter Parker through the speakers and already he could feel his blood pressure rise and tried to breathe out deliberately slowly.

Calm, Stark, you’re calm.

“The one and only,” he answered and was almost proud of how calm and collected he sounded. Oh how deceiving voices could be.

“Oh!” The kid sounded actually surprised and paused for a second in which Tony could only hear the telling thwip thwip thwip of hectic webbing.

Not the best sign but he was calm. So very calm.

He was also already on the way to the nearest window, two steps from calling a suit. Pepper behind him was now openly laughing but he didn’t look back because –

“Great! I might need a little help here. Something.” Thwip. “Something came up.” Thwip. “Sorta.”

“Sorta?” Calm.

“I mean.” Thwip. “It definitely came up. Yup.” Thwip. “Definitely. How far are you from Queens?” Thwip.

“Three minutes,” he sighed, giving up on the act of sounding completely aloof, half waving to Pepper before turning around, stepping into his suit and jumping out of the window. There went the nice, cozy night he had planned.

“Kid? You still there?”

There was a long moment of no rambling and no thwiping and it was unsettling. If Tony knew that getting late night calls was a bad sign, he was sure as heck that random pauses in late night calls where close to the calling of the apocalypse.

“Huh? Yeah. Just, uh.” Thwip. “Try’na avoid getting hit.”

Jesus.

If anyone was going to test his body’s ability to handle stress it wasn’t his own superhero gig or some spandex wearing traitor, it was a goody-two-shoes kid dressed up as a spider.

“Okay, great. You keep doing that and tell me what’s going on.”

Just keep talking, kid, tell me you’re alive.

Peter started talking and while he sounded a little too excited for his taste he let the familiar sound calm him down. As long as Peter was talking, Tony could convince himself that he didn’t have to panic just yet.

He could already see Spider-Man flipping towards another building when a message from Pepper blinked up on his HUD.

Get home safe. Both of you. I’m heading to bed. Love you.

“That was wild, Mr. Stark! Like, super wild. Super mega wild. Super-duper mega –“

“Wild?” Tony suggested in mock seriousness, setting down on the landing pad and watched Spider-Man land gracefully behind him. The second the kid had solid ground under his feet he ripped off his mask and took in a big gulp of air. His hair was mussed, cheeks red and his usually light brown eyes dark, pupils dilated so much not much of the iris was left to be seen.

Typical signs of an active sympathetic nervous system, his mind supplied unsolicited.

“Steady,” he ordered roughly when a bony shoulder bumped into his arm but there was no real force behind it when he reached out to wrap an arm around him to do the steadying himself. As soon as he had him under control he led them to the kitchen to get one of the nutrition bars he had started keeping in stock for Peter’s mutant metabolism.

“S’rry.” The kid grinned up at him sheepishly, rubbing at the mess of curls on his forehead in a poor attempt to tame them. “What’re we gonna do now?”

He raised an eyebrow in silent amusement. “It’s midnight, buddy. You should probably get to bed sometime soon if you wanna make first period.”

“But –“ Peter looked disoriented for a moment, eyes flying back and forth between the clock and Tony felt for him when his searching gaze fell on him. He looked so hopeful, as if he was lost and Tony his compass and he was so certain that he would lead him back home. The genuine trust in his eyes pierced through him and immediately he felt lacking. Thank goodness that deflection was his second nature.

Shoving two granola bars into Peter’s hand, he took a step back to give himself some space to reorient.

“You’re too excited to sleep?”

There was a vigorous nod that had crumbs falling everywhere.

“Figures,” he sighed, “The aftereffects of adrenaline are never fun.” He watched the teenager devour the second bar in mere seconds, mind whirling with doubt. “Do you want me to stay with you until you are tired enough to go to bed?”

Wide eyes found his and, mouth still full, Peter gave a timid nod, uncertain question marks clear in the twinkle of his eyes and the way he cocked his head to the side slightly.

“Okay, let’s make some tea and put on a movie. What do you wanna watch? Frozen?” He turned around to start rummaging through the kitchen for herbal tea.

That must’ve been enough for Peter to finally swallow his food and get his bearings. “How do you even know about Frozen, Mr. Stark? Are you a fan?” he quipped.

He half-turned, kettle in hand, grinning when Peter plopped down on the couch and immediately tucked himself into the blanket Pepper had neatly folded and stashed on the arm rest before she had gone to sleep. “Have you been outside last year? Show me someone who doesn’t know about Frozen.”

“Fair point,” Peter agreed easily, mind obviously already a step further. “What’s your favorite Star Wars?”

“Uh,” Tony put the kettle on the stove, “I have seen about as many Star Wars movies as I’ve seen Frozen movies.”

“You –“ The way Peter turned must put a painful strain on his neck but he looked too scandalized to notice. “What?”

The kettle whistled and he put in two bags of Pepper’s herbal tea before replying, “I have never watched Star Wars.”

“Oh my –“ For the second time that evening Peter looked utterly confused which, for a kid that smart, was especially amusing. “What rock have you been living under? I thought everyone knew Star Wars. Especially old people.”

“Hey!” He admonished but had to admit that it lost much of its brunt when he put down two steaming glasses of tea and started tugging at the blanket to cover Peter’s foot fully. “Be nice to me.”

“I’m being super nice, Mr. Stark. ‘Cause I’m gonna introduce you to a galaxy far, far away. The best galaxy.”

Tony watched in amusement as Peter ordered F.R.I.D.A.Y. to put on Episode IV and then looked eagerly back at him. “You’re gonna love it.”

“This is supposed to make you tired, squirt,” he reminded him, tapping his knee gently.

“It will,” he promised, “Star Wars always calms me down.”

The way he said it made Tony pause, made his heart ache with the harsh reality this kid had had to face and how bright he still was despite of it. Instead of an answer he pushed the glass of tea into his hands and made sure he was all tucked in before starting the movie.

Surprisingly enough Peter wasn’t lying. Halfway through the movie his breathing had evened out so much that Tony thought he was already asleep, cheek mushed into one of the big pillows, curled in on himself.

When the movie was over he stirred, slurring “G’nna watch the rest t’morrow?”

“Maybe let’s split it up a little, whataya say?” He reached out to brush some of his curls from his forehead, surprised by the gentleness of the gesture. “But we can watch them together if you want to.”

“Promise?”

“Pinky promise, kiddo.”

ii.

With Peter it wasn’t exactly hard to notice when something was off.

Even Tony, who admittedly was often too caught up in his own world to be fine-tuned into other people’s feelings and was much more comfortable fixing a cranky robot than moody human, could see it from a mile away. Or maybe that was a new kind of sense that began and ended with Peter Parker’s wellbeing. Oh well, he tried not to dwell on that.

The thing about Peter was that, when he was fine, his entire being radiated contentment, his voice tripped with excitement and his eyes shone with laughter. On a good day he was the picture perfect golden retriever puppy and similarly receptive to hugs and hair ruffles.

Today, though, his usual exuberance had visibly deflated and when he came to the workshop he punched in his code and then continued to scuff towards his workstation with only a passing hello. That was not the Peter Tony knew and, frankly, it was worrying to see someone normally so eager and lively so … lacking of life for lack of a better word.

The thing about Tony was that he was, by his own standing, probably the least equipped to deal with someone having a bad day. Heck, his own bad days usually ended in working through every meal, chugging coffee by the gallon and seeing no sun light for hours on end and even he knew that wasn’t healthy.

So he kept quiet at first and let Peter work in hopes of it calming him down because what did he know about healthily dealing with teenage angst on a Wednesday?

He kept a close eye on him, though, because for how much Tony didn’t think he was equipped to handle Peter’s bad days he also wanted to chase the shadows from his face and the hardness from his stance however cliché that sounded.

He wanted to help, he did. He just didn’t know how. So he watched from afar and contemplated.

When Peter dropped the screw driver a third time and was getting more and more agitated with the web shooter he was working on, Tony decided to stage an intervention ‘cause what the heck. He hated seeing the kid so down.

Rolling his chair over to the teenager’s work bench he picked up the tool before Peter could. “You wanna tell me what’s up, squirt?”

Peter glared, which was about as intimidating as a golden retriever puppy glaring, “Nothing,” and reached for the screw driver. Which Tony pulled out of reach at the last moment. Which made him look even more like a puppy. It was all in the big brown eyes, he decided then.

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“I have a secret identity.”

“Which I found out about in like a day.” He leaned back with a grin and started throwing the screwdriver in the air and effortlessly catching it.

“You’re Tony Stark,” the kid gave back with an eye roll, catching the tool before Tony had the chance to. “But I’m fine, honestly.”

“I mean,” he crossed his arms and watched him turn back to his web shooter rather listlessly, “considering that you not being fine usually means you’re bleeding out in an alleyway I’m not entirely reassured.”

“I’ve never bled out in an alleyway.”

“Yeah, because I flew in to get you before you could.”

“Why do you even care?” Peter snapped at him, a flicker of teenage annoyance dancing in his eyes before vanishing in the time it took Tony to ponder the fact that even this seemingly perfect kid could be annoyed. Finally. “Sorry,” he sighed, proving yet again how much better he was than literally anyone else, “I’m just annoyed.”

If that wasn’t a break-through, than he didn’t know what was. Silently patting himself on the back, Tony reached out to turn Peter’s chair so he was facing him and gently took the screw driver from his hands, putting him down on the work bench before giving the kid his full intention.

“What are you annoyed about?”

He shrugged indifferently, not meeting his eyes, “I don’t know. I just... Ned and I got into an argument and he was being so… so stubborn about it. Like, it wasn’t even that bad but he just wouldn’t budge.”

“Oh no, a stubborn teenager. Someone call the zoo we’ve found an endangered species,” he deadpanned.

Peter glared again but Tony could also see him bite down on his lower lip to keep it from curling upwards.

“Sorry, sorry. What did you and Ned fight about?”

“It wasn’t a fight… not really,” he corrected, “And it was dumb. Like, really ridiculous to be so annoyed about it. It’s not… it’s just stupid.”

Cocking his head to the side ever so slightly he raised an eyebrow and repeated calmly, “What did you argue about? I mean, if you don’t wanna talk about it that’s fine but if it’s got you so up in arms about it maybe you should is all I’m saying.”

“You’re gonna think it’s stupid,” Peter pouted.

“Maybe,” Tony shrugged, “But it’s still okay to be angry about something stupid sometimes. You don’t wanna know about half the things Rhodey and I fought about back in the days. Still do, actually.”

“Now I kinda do,” Peter grinned, then paused. “We argued about the Jedi code.”

“You… argued about the Jedi code,” Tony repeated dumbly, “Like… The Star Wars guys running around in wardrobes? They have a code?”

Big brown eyes flew up to meet his, full of indignation “Of course they have a code! There’s actually a couple different versions of it which is what we were arguing about because he said –,“ Peter stopped speaking midsentence, mouth slamming shut audibly. “It doesn’t matter… You don’t… you don’t have to listen to this, honestly, Mr. Stark.”

He made sure to school his expression and started speaking deliberately slowly, “Peter. I know I don’t have to listen to this. And, as you’ve pointed out before I am Tony Stark and you know I rarely do anything I don’t want to but, kid, you gotta know at this point that I like having you around and I like talking to you. That doesn’t just hold true when you’re your usual bubbly self but also, and especially when you’re not. This is clearly important to you. And if it’s important to you, I’m interested.”

He waited until Peter gave him a nod of understanding, timid as it may be, and leaned back in his chair again, “So tell me about this discourse in the Star Wars fandom.”

The kid didn’t have to be told twice and Tony felt his soul settle when he watched him perk up and dive into what must’ve obviously been weighing him down.

“Okay, so the Jedi code most commonly used goes like: There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge etcetera which, you know, it’s mostly meant to be used as a mantra for meditation to, like, get to a place where you don’t let your emotions overtake you and stuff. And I get that, I do.”

When Tony gave an earnest nod to show he was listening, Peter continued. “But it wasn’t always like that. It used to be: Emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge, and so on. And I like that one better because it acknowledges the fact that Jedi do have emotions like everyone else, too, right? I think that’s important! And this whole black-and-white view of ‘There’s no emotion whatsoever’ makes me so mad!”

He was gesticulating wildly, cheeks reddening with fervor as he spoke.

“Putting aside how hypocritical the whole thing sounds, you can’t make people think that having emotions will put them on a direct path to the Dark side when so much of the goodness of the Good side comes from how much they care. It’s all about controlling those emotions enough to not make bad decisions based on them but – Why can’t there be peace with emotion? By giving their Padawans the feeling that they’re in the wrong for being… well, for being people they just make it so much easier for them to fall to the Dark side!”

“It just – it makes me mad how black-and-white they want to make the world seem. And by doing that they start lying to themselves and to their students and what good does a code do when it’s impossible to hold yourself to it? You can’t just go around telling people there’s no Death but the Force when that is, objectively, a lie. Whereas Death, yet the Force acknowledges that people die but gives you the closure of knowing where you’ll find them again and the belief that they’re still with you, somehow. I think … I think that’s beautiful.” Once he was done he slumped together on his chair.

“Feeling better now?” Tony asked, reaching out to pat the top of his head.

“Yeah, a little,” he sighed, “I’m annoyed that we even argued about it but I also don’t like how he wouldn’t even listen to my point of view, ya know?”

“Well, did you listen to his side?”

“I mean,” Peter blinked up at him sheepishly, “Kinda?” The corners of his lips tugged upwards and he gave a shrug, “Maybe not as much as I should have,” he admitted with a sigh. They fell silent for a moment, Tony giving Peter the time to work through the wall his mind had built up.

“Guess I’m gonna text him an apology for not listening and that it’s okay that we have different opinions.”

“Atta boy!” Tony grinned at him and while he knew none of Peter’s maturity was his doing, his heart still swelled with pride of how good Peter was.

“Can we watch Star Wars now?”

“You got your homework done?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Yes.”

“Hungry?”

He laughed, exasperated, “Nothing some popcorn couldn’t fix.”

Tony smiled, then sobered and gave him a once over. “You okay?”

Peter nodded, a lone strand of curl bobbing back and forth, smile soft and true. “Yeah.”

Well, that settled it. He clapped his hands once and got up from his chair in a swift motion. “Then let’s watch... What comes after Episode six?”

“Episode one!” Peter jumped up, grabbing his wrist like a child pulling their parent towards a candy store, “You’ll finally meet Anakin. And honestly that’s exactly my point! Maybe if they hadn’t told him that all emotion is bad –“

He let himself be dragged upstairs and listened to him rambling over the Jedi code and he realized, in that instant, that he was truly, irrevocably happy.

iii.

“I cannot believe I let you put me into this,” he complained, his voice breathy and rough.

Peter pulled on his white robe and fastened his light saber in its holder for the umpteenth time. “To be fair, you were the one who wanted a mask. I wanted you to go as Obi Wan.”

“He is blond, Peter,” he shot back like he had the last hundred times they’d had this conversation. He looked around through the dark lenses of his mask, the HUD he had installed blinking up to scour the crowd for possible threads, and sighed, “I miss the days where I was oblivious to Star Wars and didn’t have an annoying teenager dragging me to these things.”

“No, you don’t.”

He was glad the mask hid his smile at the easy banter. It was bad enough Peter knew exactly how wrapped around his little finger he was, he didn’t have to show it time and time again.

“Okay, I don’t. But you still owe me one.”

“But Mr. Sta-a-ark,” he said, dragging his last name for at least two more syllables than it had and looking as pitiful as if he’d actually just lost his hand, “I’m already being punished enough. We’re going to MOMA next semester.”

Despite himself, Tony could feel the fondness shine through as he chuckled, “Excuse me, are you actually voicing dislike in something? Are you actually my Peter Parker or have you officially become a rebel now?”

The kid giggled, honest to god giggled, and shrugged, “Guess there’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Mr. Stark. I do dislike things!”

“Really? Name three.” He raised an unimpressed eyebrow, leveling Peter with a glare before realizing that the gesture was completely lost in his costume. Not even the tone translated. He really needed to figure something out for that next time. He couldn’t have his natural charm get lost in the Dark side.

The thought made him stop dead in his tracks – thankfully still unseen by the Jedi next to him. Next time? He hated this costume with a passion why would he consider wearing it again?

Unbeknownst to the inner whirlwind that were his thoughts, Peter actually answered his question after floundering for a bit.

“Well, I don’t like bad people. And hurricanes. And MOMA. Even though, MOMA really never did anything to me, I’d just rather go somewhere else y’know. I mean, it’ll probably be kinda nice anyway? So yeah, maybe I don’t not like MOMA. But – I still don’t like, uh, racists?”

Ah, yeah, that was why he was actually thinking about a next time in this ridiculous outfit. Because of Peter freaking Parker.

“Those are all very good things to dislike, Mr. Parker, but I was actually hoping that all people with a little decency and common sense disliked those things,” he teased. “Just admit that you do not have a single mean bone in your body and that it’s physically impossible for you to dislike anything.”

“That’s not –“

“I love your cosplay, man!” some guy in a badly made Yoda costume whose ears were precariously close to falling off the side of his head and were only held in place by a few strands of grey fuzz interrupted him and the disturbance would have annoyed Tony had Peter’s face not started positively lighting up at the compliment.

“Thank you!” he replied easily with a face splitting grin, “I love yours, too. What’d you use to make the ears?”

“Just papier-mâché”, Yoda replied, obviously taken aback by the interest in his own costume by someone with an obviously home-made light saber. He seemed excited, though, and started rambling about something until he let his eyes wander to the side and took in Tony’s appearance for the first time.

“Oh my god,” he gasped, yes, gasped, and gaped at him like a fish pulled out of water, “That is the best father and son costume ever! Can I take a picture of the two of you?”

And before Tony could so much as utter a word, Peter had already nodded his consent and leaned against him with a huge grin on his face and the other kid was fumbling for his phone and started snapping pictures of them. And then a selfie, because of course.

“Is this real life?” he breathed out almost silently.

“It might just be fantasy,” his sassy AI replied instantly, earning him another gasp and round of big, wide eyes from Yoda.

“Did your mask just reply to you? And did the eyes light up? How did you do that?”

“It’s just a, uh,” very high-tech AI system that was talking back to him, “it’s like Google glasses.” He cringed internally and could feel more than see Peter snicker against his side.

“Oh, like the ones Tony Stark always wears?”

By now Peter was having to work so hard on holding back his laughter that he had gone almost rigid, grinning from ear to ear and happily answering for him. “Yes, yes, Tony Stark is totally wearing Google glasses.”

“Ah, well, I think yours are cooler anyway. I mean you’d never find Tony Stark at the Star Wars midnight premiere.”

Oh, don’t I wish, he thought, ruefully imagining how comfortable he could be on his own couch right now.

Peter, though, Peter was loving this which made him reconsider his earlier statement about the mean bones in his body.

“Yeah, you’re way cooler than Tony Stark. Right, dad?”

Oh for goodness sake. That sassy dad should not do the things to his heart that it was currently doing. That could not be healthy.

“Sure,” he cleared his throat to get rid of the pesky emotions in there, “I mean, Tony Stark is a pretty cool guy but, uh, yeah, so much cooler.”

And, as if someone had heard his prayers, the doors to the movie theater were opened and a reverent murmur went through the crowd before people – droids and aliens, Jedi and Sith alike – started wandering in and taking their places and finally, finally the thing they were actually here to see could begin.

Tony would complain about that day to anyone who would listen (and to some, like Pepper, who wouldn’t) but when Peter sent him one of the pictures the Yoda guy had taken, he framed it and put it up next to the picture of him and Rhodey proudly presenting Dum-E in his lab.

Until, of course, when he broke it in a moment of uncontrollable grief because looking at all he used to have just hurt too dang much.

iv.

“You coming, kiddo?”

The voice came out of nowhere, startling him so much he almost toppled over the front porch’s wooden railing he was leaning against.

“Wha-“ he whirled around and his heart simultaneously sang and sank, “Oh, it’s just you.”

“Yeah, just me. Sorry to disappoint.” The quip fell from his lips easily but his mentor’s dark eyes shone with concern. Somehow that made the lump in his stomach grow even heavier.

“That’s not – I mean, uh, I’m not –“ he stumbled over his words, cringing at how high-pitched his voice sounded even to his own ears, “Sorry. I’m –“

He stopped midsentence when he realized that he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say and just shrugged, coupled with a small smile that was definitely fake and evidently did not convince Mr. Stark of anything.

He was still coming closer, slowly and careful of the shiny prosthetic that sat where his arm used to be.

The image made Peter sick and he tried to focus on his face instead. There were a few more wrinkles than he remembered, especially around his eyes and mouth – from laughing no doubt. He was sporting more grey hair, too, and he looked comfortable in his dark blue cardigan where he used to wear suits or band shirts. He looked exactly like someone who lived happily in a lake house.

“You okay, squirt?”

He snapped out of his spiraling thoughts and, on reflex, started nodding.

“See,” he stopped when he was next to him and leaned against the railing, too, facing Peter who turned to face the small boat that was moving ever so slightly with the lake’s small ripples. “I don’t believe you.”

Huh.

“You’re not okay.” It was a statement, leaving no room for him to argue.

“But –“ He was cut off and a part of him was glad for it because what was he going to say anyway? He was a bad liar and Mr. Stark good at reading him. That, at least, was something that hadn’t changed.

“None of us are really okay and that’s okay,” Mr. Stark said and turned to watch the lake now, too. “Or so I’ve been told repeatedly. But, as I’ve also been reliably informed, we have to talk to each other to get better.”

He shrugged and crossed his arms in front of his chest, tugging both hands under his arm-pits to keep them from shaking.

“No talking, I take it?”

He shrugged again.

“Would you let me hug you?”

His head snapped up instantly. The question came as a surprise but sounded honest and hesitant and attentive and it made his head spin. But, when he took a moment to think about it, he ended up nodding. He didn’t think there was a whole lot he would refuse the man for a while.

Almost immediately he was being wrapped into a strong healthy arm and pulled close until Mr. Stark could bury his face in his hair and take in a deep breath. He couldn’t help but notice how heavily his mentor was leaning against the railing while holding him but he also noticed how his entire body seemed to loosen as the hug went on, how tension and worry slowly sept out of his stance.

Peter noticed the same for himself, too, and somehow that made him want to cry.

The arm around him was steady and it held him together when everything had seemed to fall apart and his head was spinning and he felt his eyes tear up and his heart beat speed up and he suddenly wished that he could stay here forever.

Which was ridiculous. Mr. Stark just wanted to give him a quick hug and go on with his day. He couldn’t know how liberating his touch felt, how cared for and valued and loved Peter felt just by being in his arms and he couldn’t just tell him. He couldn’t –

But it felt so nice.

“Hey, hey, bud,” Mr. Stark sounded worried and it felt like he wanted to pull away and Peter’s breaths started coming in quicker at the thought. There was a sound somewhere in the back of his throat and Mr. Stark stopped pulling away but still loosened his grip.

“It’s okay, kiddo,” he shushed him and Peter had to swallow down a sob because this was getting ridiculous but it felt so nice, “It’s gonna be okay, I promise. It’s gonna be okay.”

After a moment he had caught himself enough to not start breaking down and gave a nod. “I’m –“ he sniffed and whispered, “Thank … Thank you, Mr. Stark.”

For a moment it seemed like his mentor wasn’t going to say anything but then he gave a small smile and pulled him into his side instead. “Anytime, kiddo. Now let’s watch Rogue One. The Force is telling me it’s time for a high stakes-tragedy-comfort movie.”

Despite himself, Peter let out a wet giggle. “There’s never a wrong time for Star Wars, Mr. Stark.”

“I know, I know. It’s tradition. Or so you keep telling me,” he said and the fondness in his voice almost made Peter cry again.

He didn’t, though.

They went back into the empty lake house – May, Pepper and Morgan were having a girls day apparently – made themselves comfortable on the big couch and put on the movie as if they had never done anything else. They moved like a well-oiled machine, like a team that had been working together forever.

Peter was curled into Mr. Stark’s side and his thumb was constantly caressing his knee and it felt wonderful. It felt like home.

The lump in his throat never left.

Somehow it kept growing with every passing minute and with it the loneliness and while he felt right at home it also felt like he shouldn’t. His body felt out of place, as if all the pieces of him had never truly reintegrated, leaving him with holes in his being that he wasn’t sure how to fill.

He watched Chirrut Îmwe blindly walk across battlefields and single-handedly eliminate an entire garrison, trusting the Force to keep him safe and the blazing desire for that kind of certainty hit him unaware.

Maybe that was the whole problem, he realized slowly, as he watched Galen’s message to his daughter and that was when the first tear fell, silent and painful.

Ever since he had come back barely anything had seemed certain anymore. There had been things he had believed to be unchangeable but then a mad Titan had snapped his fingers and his beliefs had turned into dust alongside his body and half the universe and then he had come back and everything had been different and even things that appeared to be the same just weren’t.

May had been gone, too. They still loved each other the same way they always had. Unconditionally. Unquestioningly. Easy. She never had to miss him, never faced a world without him in it. She was the only constant he could claim but everything else –

He couldn’t understand how it had been five years and Mr. Stark had a wife and a kid and a lake house and how he could have still missed him with all that. How he could’ve even had the time. Why would he miss Peter of all people? And, and…

Mr. Stark’s affection was different now. Fiercer, gentler, more… more parental. Or maybe it wasn’t different but he was more open with it. He looked at him the way he looked at Morgan and he couldn’t make sense of that. He couldn’t.

Why would anyone miss me?

He kept circling back to the same question.

Whywhywhywhy- Why me?

He didn’t notice he started full on crying until suddenly the screen in front of him was blurry and his cheeks were wet and his breaths came in rough. He tried to breathe through it, to keep his body calm and steady so Mr. Stark wouldn’t notice but it made his lungs feel like they were on fire trying to keep it all in.

As if he had read his thoughts Mr. Stark’s hand moved up from where it had been resting on his knee and started rubbing slow circles into his scalp. He didn’t move otherwise, made no attempt to pull away and when he spoke his voice was barely more than a whisper.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Did he? He knew if he started talking, he’d start spiraling and he’d lose the last ounce of self-control he was clinging to. He didn’t want that.

He shook his head, but his body started shaking more violently anyway when he couldn’t breathe through the sobs anymore.

“Shh, that’s okay, buddy, that’s fine,” Mr. Stark murmured, “But stop trying to bite down on your tears. I know how much that hurts. It’s okay. Let it out. I’m here.”

He kept talking – quietly, soothingly, calmly – and at some point Peter’s body decided to listen and he stopped trying to keep quiet and when the first sob broke through his lips he buried his head in Mr. Stark’s stomach and let himself cry.

It hurt and more often than not Mr. Stark had to remind him to slow down his breathing so the oxygen could reach his brain and it didn’t seem to ever stop. But it was also freeing.

Every sob that tore through him gave voice to a pain he had buried inside like needles in his soul that he was pulling out one after the other. For the first time since he had come back he felt like he could breathe again.

His lungs were finally uncurling fully, the weight that had been sitting on his ribcage was gone. He could breathe and at first he gulped in the air like someone pulled from certain death through drowning. He felt like he had been suffocating for weeks and this was the first time someone had pulled his head above water again.

“Slowly, squirt, slowly. Breathe nice and slowly, the air’s not going anywhere, I promise.”

And if Mr. Stark promised to keep his head above water it must be right. After all, Mr. Stark always kept his promises.

They didn’t exchange anything other than those small reassurances and soothings until the end of the movie. And Peter shed a few tears when the inevitable happened but he was tired and cried out and so emotionally drained he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to feel again.

Still, when Princess Leia appeared on the screen he felt the same flutter of hope in his chest that he always felt when he watched it and his soul settled.

“Hope,” she said on screen and the single syllable word echoed through his body, spreading like a bonfire and melting places that had been numb for days.

Everything was going to be okay.

When the credits started rolling, that’s when Mr. Stark started talking again starting with a cough to clear his throat that sounded like he had been crying, too.

“I know you may not want to talk about it, Pete, but I feel like we should.” He sighed and he sounded sad and strong at the same time. More importantly, though, he never stopped running his fingers through his hair. “You may not have heard but I’m a responsible adult now. Someone who makes kids talk about their problems.”

Peter snorted and Mr. Stark gave a chuckle.

“Granted, Morgan’s tears are usually about whether or not we’re letting her have that second juice pop but we do talk about that.”

“You give her the juice pop, don’t you?” His voice was scratchy but Mr. Stark didn’t comment on that. He laughed quietly.

“It depends, honestly. On whether or not Pepper is around when the tantrum starts.”

“You’re a great dad to her,” he whispered in reply and if he had thought he had calmed down just half a minute earlier then his heart felt like splitting open again now. He couldn’t put the finger on it, didn’t want to admit to himself that it was jealousy of the time they had that he would never get. He hated himself for thinking about it. If anyone deserved a family it was Mr. Stark and Morgan was the sweetest child. It was just –

Morgan belonged with her family, she was a Stark through and through – stubbornness and smarts and all. And Mr. Stark belonged with Pepper and his daughter, too. He knew that. He wanted that for them.

He just – he had thought that he had kind of belonged with Mr. Stark, too, but how could he now that he had been gone for five years? How could he ever belong anywhere ever again?

“As they say; practice makes perfect,” Mr. Stark spoke, completely oblivious to Peter’s thoughts, “Guess it gets easier the second time around.”

For a moment he forgot to spiral into self-doubt and angst and stopped. A Second… Second time? Huh?

As if he sensed the wordless question, his mentor pulled him closer and buried his face in his hair again. It seemed to soothe him as much as it calmed Peter. He seemed comfortable this close. Happy, at home.

“See, squirt, I know that I didn’t raise you. I would never take that honor and privilege from May and your Uncle Ben and your parents. They made you in the person you were when I met you and that person was already better than anything I could have ever hoped to achieve. But then,” he paused as if unsure how to continue, “We did meet and I did get the honor of being in your life, of mentoring you, of caring for you. I made a lot of mistakes at first and – My biggest mistake was trying to keep you at arm’s length.”

“I don’t – I don’t understand,” Peter whispered, pushing himself up far enough to meet his mentor’s eyes that were glistening with unshed tears. His gaze softened even more when he saw his own tear stained cheeks and red rimmed eyes and there was a shadow of anguish and a spark of love in them.

“I know,” he sighed, never breaking eye contact but shifting them into a more comfortable position, “You can’t understand because I never told you. Not really. But, Peter, you have to know, that you’re my kid. You are as much my kid as Morgan is. You made me want to be a dad, made me want to prove that I could because I wanted to be one to you and I didn’t want to fail you. And –“ he stopped and a shudder went through his body, “And then I did. I failed you and I – I never forgave myself for that. And I never stopped missing you. God, I missed you so much, Pete.”

But … “Why would you… Why me?”

“Because, Peter. Because you’re my boy and I love you and the world was so much darker without you in it and because every awful moment would’ve been less awful with you and every good moment would’ve been perfect. I – I kept going, I went on because I had to. Because there were Pepper and Rhodey and then Morgan. I had to keep going but that doesn’t mean I didn’t miss you every single second of every single day.”

“I’m scared that I don’t belong anymore. That I don’t belong anywhere anymore,” he admitted finally. The shameful confession uttered so quietly that the words almost got lost in his mentor’s heavy breaths on his cheeks.

“Oh,” Mr. Stark looked at him stunned, like he had grown a second head for a good moment before leaning forward and pulling him back in, holding him tighter than he had ever held him. Both arms folding across his back with the prosthetic cutting into his skin but it didn’t matter, it didn’t. Because he felt held together in place, in a place where he belonged and where he was wanted. He was being anchored and kept from drifting off into the infinite vastness of space and he was so incredibly grateful.

“You belong here, kiddo,” he took in the fierce words in his ear, let them run down his back and warm him like a hot shower after a cold day. “You belong with me and you belong with May. You belong in Queens and you belong here, in this lake house that has been planned with your bedroom in mind. You belong with your family and, for as long as you let me, I will never let you go ever again.”

He cried some more after that – cried himself to sleep that night in fact – but Mr. Stark was there the whole time, holding him, whispering reassurances and tickling a wet smile out of him eventually. The next day was a little bit better. The self- doubt didn’t evaporate, didn’t leave right away.

Some days were worse than others, some were better. Some the voices in his head had him going mad with why’s and what-if’s and some days he couldn’t even hear them over Morgan’s giggles and May’s bad jokes and Mr. Stark lecturing Dum-E.

Coming back wasn’t easy by any means and it did take a while but a couple of weeks later, he jumped out of Happy’s new SUV, running up to the front porch and flying into Mr. Stark’s waiting arms, and his thoughts hummed happily with only one thought.

I’m home.

#irondadsecretsanta #irondad #iron dad #irondad fic #peter parker #tony stark #star wars #josis fic #chaos yet harmony #merry christmas!!

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orange-waterfalls · 4 years

Text

Sleeping Beauty

Darkiplier x Wilford Warfstache

@grey-b0y ty for the request!(im sorry it took so long lol)

A/N: ight so. first time doin a ship. literally the best thing ive ever written. may like to do more. uhhhh Dark being an overworked bastard. Wilford being the caring boyf that he would be. Disney movies. If you couldn't already tell. Uhhhhh finished this in an hour, re-read it, may actually be the best thing I've ever made I'm ngl. Dark may be a bit OOC, but that's just cause he's a lil bit tired. uhhhhh yeah. Enjoy!

Requests are open

Dark let out a quiet sigh as he opened the door to his and Wilford’s house. He threw his suit jacket to the side with absolutely no fucks to give about where it landed. He stumbled through the house until he eventually landed in his office, plopping down in his chair and leaning back with a groan.

He had so much work he still had left to do, and it was already 9:00. He was so, so, so very tired. The egos had been especially annoying that week, all having the stupidest comments during meetings and refusing to shut up once they got started. Dark had noticed Wilford gave him a “look” whenever he saw the entity annoyed or angry. He didn’t want Wilford to worry, so he always brushed it off. In hindsight, it might have been a good idea to let Wil help him. They were in a relationship, after all. People are supposed to help those that they love. Dark never gave Wil much of a chance to do that. He felt bad for it at times.

Dark rubbed the bridge of his nose and yawned. He shook his head and cracked his neck and flexed his hands, trying to make himself more awake. “Trying” being the keyword here. He reached into his messenger bag and pulled out his laptop and computer mouse. He opened the laptop and opened a document of everything he was supposed to schedule, approve, and deny. He went through everything, the blue light illuminating his pale face, the bags under his eyes looking very prominent. Any person with eyesight and half a brain could see he was sleep-deprived and overworked.

He heard a noise come from somewhere in the house. He stopped clicking and raised his head a bit, trying to listen. Nothing else came. He shrugged lightly. He was probably just imagining things…

Probably…

Another noise. A THUMP. Louder this time. He took his hand away from the mouse and leaned back in his chair, watching the closed door of the office. He stared at it, waiting for another noise to show up.

The sound of shattered glass and Wilford cursing caused Dark to jump up out of his chair. He threw the door open and ran to the source of the noise.

“Wil!” He called as he stopped in the living room. The panicked look on his face died down into indifference and mild annoyance.

Wilford was laying on his back in the middle of the room, margarita glass in hand, with the window shattered and shards of glass surrounding him. He turned to Dark and smiled.

“Good evening, pumpkin!” He greeted joyfully. Dark exhaled deeply and walked over to Wilford. He had no problem with the glass because his shoes were still on. Wilford, apparently having some sort of supervision when it came to Dark, noticed this small fact. “Why do you have your shoes on? When did you get home?” Dark, ignoring the question, pulled Wilford to his feet.

“Where’s your key?” He asked, exasperated.

“Now, hold on. I asked you first. It’s not fair that I have to answer questions when you haven’t answered mine!” The reporter pouted. Dark rolled his eyes.

“Stuck in a meeting. Stuck in traffic. Got home a couple of minutes ago,” He sighed, “Where is your key, Wil?” Wilford looked around for a moment before his eyes landed on a clock. He let out an exaggerated gasp.

“Dark! It’s so late! You must be exhausted!” He said, cupping Dark’s face in his hands. He can’t help from melting into the touch of his favorite person.

“No, no, I’m fine, really,” Dark mumbled, obviously lying. Wilford frowned.

“Come along now, darling, you know you can’t lie to me,” He said, stepping a bit closer to him. He looked into Dark’s eyes while the entity avoided eye contact. Wilford huffed before his eyebrows raised and a smile formed on his lips. Dark noticed and furrowed his eyebrows

“What?” He asked, slightly worried. Wilford grabbed his hand and led him to their bedroom. Dark sighed.

“Wil, I don’t-” He was cut off by a T-shirt being thrown at his face. Dark, being extremely tired, didn’t process what had happened until he looked down and saw the shirt. He looked back up at Wilford, squinting a bit. Wilford had somehow already changed. He was wearing pink shorts and a white shirt with a rainbow on the front. Dark glanced down at the shirt and raised an eyebrow. Wilford cleared his throat.

“My eyes are up here, Darky-poo,” He teased. Dark would have blushed if he were less proud. Would have.

Dark rolled his eyes and picked up the shirt, ushering Wilford out. God knows how long into their relationship and Dark still refused to change in front of his boyfriend. Wilford shook his head and chuckled, heading into the kitchen.

He made two bowls of popcorn, knowing for a fact he would scarf down his in a matter of minutes. He walked into the living room. He heard creaking and looked back to see Dark walk in after him. The pale entity wore black boxers and the grey shirt that was thrown at him. Wilford smiled.

“What took so long, darling?” He asked sweetly. Dark scoffed at the third pet name that night.

“Resting my eyes,” he claimed. Wilford hummed, knowing it was a lie. He wouldn’t push it, though. Dark sighed. “What are we doing, Wil?”

“Watching Disney movies. Only the musicals, though,” Dark groaned.

“Wil-”

“Listen,” Wilford said, suddenly sounding serious. Dark closed his mouth. “I know you won’t listen to me when I tell you to rest. So, if you’re gonna stay awake, you might as well do something vaguely fun, right?” Dark smiled softly.

This person. This person loved him. This person cared about him more than anyone else did. And this person that cared about him was trying to help. Dark sighed, but not in an exasperated way. In an “I really can’t argue because a) I have nothing to argue and b) I kinda sorta really don’t wanna argue but I still wanna act like I do” kinda way. He shuffled his way over to the couch and plopped down next to Wilford, scooting as close to him as possible. Wilford grinned and settled himself.

“But do we have to do all of them?” Dark complained. Wilford stroked his mustache a bit.

“Well, no, but we gotta start somewhere.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you get to tell me which year to start from.”

“Last year.” That earned a small glare from Wilford. “Fine, fine… uh… 19...8...9?”

“The Little Mermaid it is!” Wilford said excitedly.

“Wait, you know all the years?”

“Of course I do! What do you think I am? Some sort of commoner?!” Dark slowly blinked at that wreck of a sentence and turned back to the TV screen. Wilford put an arm around Dark, who snuggled into the touch. Then, Wilford hit the play button on his remote.

Two movies later, Dark was out cold. They’d barely gotten through a third of “Newsies” before Wilford looked over and saw the entity sleeping. Wilford had been mindful enough to keep his singing voice to a minimum, and so Dark hadn’t woken up. Wilford wasn’t even sure how long he’d been asleep. When did he last look? Halfway through “Beauty and the Beast?” Aw, too bad. 30 more minutes and they would’ve started on “Aladdin”! Wilford shrugged and paused the film.

He gently shifted in his spot and lifted Dark into his arms. He slowly carried the “Sleeping Beauty”(shut up I’m funny) to their room. He gently laid Dark down on the bed, covering him with the blankets. Dark almost instantly cuddled into them. Wilford bit his lip as he stared down at his lover. Well, since they didn’t watch Sleeping Beauty…

Wilford gently leaned down and brushed a small curl out of Dark’s face. He gazed at his sleeping figure in admiration before leaning down further to connect their lips in a small kiss. Very small, more of a peck than a “kiss” kiss, but still. Dark slowly opened his eyes and blinked a few times as Wilford pulled away.

“Aw, Dark,” Wilford whispered, “I woke you with true love’s kiss!”

“You woke me, period,” Dark grumbled but stretched out his arms, tempting Wilford to go to bed.

Wilford climbed in next to Dark, spooning him. He held his arms tight around his partner’s torso, burying his nose into the entity’s hair and inhaling deeply.

“What are you doing?” Dark almost chuckled. Wilford smiled.

“I like your smell…”

“Oh?” Dark twisted around to look at Wilford. “And what do I smell like?”

“Home…” Wilford answered with a lovestruck look on his face. He could’ve sworn he saw a blush before getting hit in the face with a pillow. He laughed as Dark turned back around.

“You are the cheesiest person in the galaxy,” Dark said. Wilford’s lips curled into a grin as he snuggled up behind Dark again.

“Maybe…” He answered. Both of them sighed contently. “I love you…”

“I love you too...” Dark mumbled, still very tired, “Goodnight, Wil.” Wilford smiled as he tightened his grip ever-so-slightly.

“Good night, Sleeping Beauty…”

#darkiplier #markiplier darkiplier #wilford warfstache #markiplier wilford #markiplier wilford warfstache #darkiplier x wilford #darkiplier x wilford warfstache #darkstache #darkstache fanfic #slash fanfiction #not x reader #markiplier egos #markiplier alter egos

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druid-for-hire · 5 years

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UNSWAYED PT. IV

(pt. i) (pt. ii) (pt. iii) (pt. v) (epilogue) (askblog)

this update consists of a bit of the trek back to hadestown and the workers’ revolution that lasts the summer until persephone’s return in the fall, and being granted the chance to leave at last--to leave for real.

thank you so so much to all my friends @supercantaloupe, @unholy-boi (who helped write the Riots sect), @damondaunnodyke, & @s-aint-elmo

persephone has left again and sets to repairing the world up Top after the hurricane, now that she’s helped the lovers.

orpheus and eurydice are... on the exodus from the Beyond. it’s a long road--it’s a long walk. takes a week or two.

kampê slinks into the shadows and hides, bitter, among the smokestacks. she hurts and she fears. hades will come for her, she knows, but she knows this place far better than he--that man barely checks up (hence how her grip on the place has gotten out of control), hasn’t been there for all of the rearrangements and updates in centuries. she knows where to hide. he will not find her in her domain. this is her darkness.

the imagery of the Exodus is very much akin to/inspired by the same Exodus of the movie Prince of Egypt. u kno that one?

looks like this, yeah, but like... obviously without the fish, because the walls aren’t made of ocean in this au, they’re just rock

and orpheus and eurydice leading the pack, shadowed looks of determination on their faces

again: this is where Promises (But Sadder) happens

as eurydice takes orpheus back to the main parts of hadestown, she notices too many things: his legs tremble, his hands shake, he breathes just barely too hard and clears his throat and coughs too much; and as they talk about the small things to fill some of the quiet, orpheus asks “what’d you say?” too often

(it’s hearing damage babey!)

of course, no one is spared from the hardships of hadestown. but she... does not like seeing those scars on orpheus

this long walk is also the time they tell each other everything that happened to them since they last saw each other

reminder: orpheus is still weak & kinda sick! and it’s a long walking journey. and everyone’s tired. sometimes they all sit down and camp for the “night” or something.

the beyond’s not been kind to him; he’s pale as a corpse, with sunken eyes and hollow cheeks, looks as dead as he feels

(really, all the other workers from the Beyond don’t look much better)

it’s kind of a spooky sight when they stop for a few hours and he lays down to take a rest. the state he’s in...

and eurydice is a fairly good singer--nowhere near on orpheus’ (former) level, but good, and she probably sings him small tunes here and there just for the two of them, to relax and comfort and what have you

@axolotlbeans: at some point they stop for the “night” and orpheus collapses; eurydice, who’d been singing, gathers him in her arms and says, "Orpheus, you're shivering; is it cold or fear?"

and he interrupts her, burying his face into her neck and softly rasps "Just keep singing" in the smallest, weakest voice

when they arrive. it is... a lot.

the long train of people is... heavily distracting. and they seem to come out of nowhere--a lot of hadestown wasn’t even aware there was a Beyond ‘till orpheus got banished, and then they didn’t know the name or what it was, just that he got banished somewhere. even the foremen turn to see; everyone’s sort of like. uh. what the hell is going on? and work sort of stalls out a little bit

eurydice and orpheus go straight to hades and present their demands to let them go. let them all go. blah blah blah some other stuff it probably sounds fairer than that, i don’t have the brain energy to outline all their demands specifically

by the slightly edited words of my good friend supercanteloupe:

let us go, eurydice demands, and hades just laughs, jailbirds like themselves don’t get their freedom so easily. get back to work, songbird, and don’t let the foreman know you’ve been slacking. and all of the rest of you... you’d better return before you’re made to return.

they go, but they’re not done, not by a long shot.

they don’t go back to work.

orpheus cannot sing, but he is still a poet, and the workers have their voices too

the bristling unrest of Hadestown begins to develop into protests, and the protests turn into riots.

orpheus can craft all the words eurydice needs to say with her spirited and powerful voice, to hit every point to cause uprisings and to stab every point to whittle hades down

hades notices things are beginning to go wrong. machine malfunctions, damaged, outright broken; strikes, sit-ins. rolling blackouts. eurydice and orpheus come back and back, with more and more workers, the ones they led out from the beyond and the ones from the factories and mines, always to demand: let us go.

and hades grows only more calloused and bitter. you failed your test, you don't get second chances. Players who break the rules are banned from play.

and every time they turn back, back to their increased workloads and their stricter overseers and their hope now stretching thin, and their anger growing more

ok back to me writing: but enough pushing, and even the overseers are beginning to turn.

the furies, infamous guardswomen and union busters, are doing their best to do damage control. and they are fierce. they are vicious, nearly (but not quite) as bad as kampê, and there are three of them--but then there are only three of them, and they cannot possibly control every single instance of revolt when the ball gets rolling

eurydice and orpheus are now the leaders of rebellion, and both of them are marked for banishment. they have to run from god-king hades and stay out of the unrelenting sights of the Furies.

(and this also means they can’t work or the foremen still on hades’ side might turn em in. so they catch a break and a nap, finally, jesus christ)

but.

there is trouble (For hades) in the fact that kampê has practically gone missing. no matter how many are sent to the Beyond, now there is no one to stop them from just... making the trip back. sure. it takes a long time. about a week or so of walking, but they just... come back.

hades takes notice. hades visits the Beyond for the first time in so long and tries to find her, to no avail. the Beyond is far changed than when he last saw it and he does not have the time to spend to find her--he cannot step away from his children for more than a few hours, lest something go wrong again. this is just another inconvenience on his long, long list.

@lookoutitsregan: “they're legally allowed to leave after 15 minutes”

orpheus and eurydice will be dealt with by himself, and so they run--avoid him as much as they can, hide under his radar

by the words of unholy-boi: hades will not let go of his empire so easily. the building pressure only makes him clench his fists tighter, bend his back further, push further to his own breaking point (and towards everyone else’s).

he’s more likely to go down screaming that he isn’t, more likely to cling hard and furious to his city, push his workers into the dirt and further lose persephone in the process, the further this goes, the more against him, the more likely he is to furiously, dangerously fight back.

as summer turns late, hadestown doesn’t soften like hades may have had it for persephone in years long since past, hadestown turns from city to warzone

ok back to me again

for the songbirds: there’s the riots and them narrowly escaping hades like all the damn time while he pushes everyone else to their limits

and yet they refuse to be pushed and usurp their foremen as fast as he reinstates things

revolutions usually have unifying symbols of a sort, and the many isolated revolts do eventually coalesce into this all being an outright revolution--a workers’ movement, if you will.

the red carnation. though they don’t have it, they all remember seeing in orpheus’ hand before he was banished--the one solid sliver of the aboveground anyone saw in a long time

@s-aint-elmo: the red carnation becomes their symbol--though they don’t have it, they paint it in hidden alleyways and abandoned factory walls. they have red paper flowers and red cloth tucked into pockets and tool belts

or the red of some banner that waves in the acrid smoke-wind of hadestown’s false air fronts

flowers, painted and made and substituted, are cropping up all over hadestown, and in increasingly more obvious spots. life is blooming in the underground for the first time in so long

OH ALSO, another fun layer of symbolism with the red cloths:

in the staging of actual hadestown, when orpheus sings "and they're gonna bend their branches down and lay their fruit upon the ground; the almond and the apple, the sugar and the maple" the ensemble is on the tables, reaching over eurydice like tree branches in a sort of ^ formation; on "almond" and "apple," the first two layers pull out and dangle white cloth, but on "sugar from the maple," the dude at the top dangles a red one and drops it into eurydice's hands

so there’s that!

also being the bounty of spring above...... rejecting the underworld. some shit like that

in a musical there’d definitely be a sort of revolution song

like uhhh... Why We Build the Wall II. it’s Different this time. it’s not about the circular logic of the wall, it’s about rebelling against the order hades has set for them

There’s so many lines that can be drawn from elsewhere in the musical to be inserted into this

Why do we build the wall, my brothers, my sisters?

He said the wall would bring us peace, the wall would keep out the enemy.

mister hades set us free to work ourselves into the ground. a lot of souls have gotta die to make the underworld go round.

why are we digging out own graves for a living, if we're free tell me why we can't even stand upright?

some sort of rebellion/callback against “who are you to think that you can hold your head up higher than your fellow man?”

i’m gonna count to three, and then i’ll raise my head, singin’, one, two--!

(except they probably finish the count in this one)

also, because i am weak for really great chords being belted out by a big chorus and hearing every voice part slot together, because this is a revolution song with lots of people i think it should have that

everybody 👏knows 👏the 👏walls 👏have 👏ears 👏

thank u supercanteloupe & s-aint-elmo for ur additions on this

the fates’ voices still carry on the wind, hadestown’s false air fronts of stale and acrid air, but orpheus and eurydice have since learned to turn their backs to it

ALSO? Flags

with the revolution coming to span A Really Big Chunk of hadestown, most likely more than half, there’d probably be people putting up flags and banners

i’m just like, inspired by the imagery of the flag raisings in wwii and post-9/11, and also i’m thinking of les mis/french revolution in general not gonna lie

sure, the Furies are union-busters and come after any sign of revolution, but every revolution is a fight against something. there’s always blood spilled, what different is this one?

they can’t be everywhere at once and they’re not like the Fates--they get tired, they’re not omnipresent and omniscient, the people are not powerless

the flag is supposed to attract attention, the point is to be loud

and by god, they are screaming

this is what a steel mill looks like at night. hadestown was sort of already in a hazy blaze, but combo this with a revolution in its midst, with fighting and fire, and... well, it’s a mess

and through all the flames are the carnations blooming, painted and carved on walls and smokestacks and pathways

(it’s very poetic)

(tumblr will kill this post if i link to the source directly, so. photo taken by DragonWolfACe @ deviantart)

hermes still ferries on the train, but the schedule is all out of whack thanks to the strikes and riots turning the systems upside down. he witnesses plenty of the mess that hadestown has fallen into, and the fight the songbirds are fighting

he relays as much news as he can to persephone

(thanks @damondaunnodyke for helping write this bit w/ seph)

persephone... worries

she already snuck underground to help them once and a hurricane ravaged the Top for her absence. the songbirds have escaped, and now have to fight this fight for themselves--she can’t go back down to help them, because she has to bring the summertime to the Top, and she refuses to be the cause of another storm

so she’s stuck aboveground.

and she’s uhh. stressing. drinking. worrying.

everyone can tell there’s something off, but she doesn’t want to dwell on it, insisting that everyone else should just focus on the good times. let me tell ya something that my mama said to me...

she tries to not stress--there’s nothing she can do right now, why worry, you know? unless she wants to get more gray hairs than she’s already got

but during one of those celebrations she almost says “let the poet bless this round!” before catching herself, remembering that she’s... not there

a lot of people give her a glance; why’d she stop?

but she picks herself back up again, only a moment's falter, and just toasts to life and summer

the end of summer.

the revolution rages on. it’s not calmed down--the very opposite, in fact, more ferocious than ever

(and thanks unholy-boi for basically writing this bit for me HBGFHG)

persephone knows something is wrong when the train isn’t early--isn’t on time, but in fact late to pick her up. the summer has stretched on longer than it should, and in some ways, that is just as dangerous as the winter going on for too long

hades has been getting ready to bring her home. it takes browbeating and strongarming to get the trains running, far too late for his liking.

at last the train comes for her, and when it is hermes who offers his hand to bring her onboard, she knows that things in the underworld are bad--an inferno, dangerous if not dire, and she wonders if the songbirds are still alive, or if they’ve gone and the revolution still rages without them

hades aches for his wife, but he dares not step away from hadestown for a moment. he’s become obsessed and absolutely determined to quell, to crush this rebellion

hades is breaking, but refuses to bend, hades has refrains where he refuses to sing but slips into poetry and catches himself halfway through, hades is breaking, he puts in people he believes he can trust and they turn on him out of desperation, hades is running out of places to desperately hold and he is breaking. hadestown is oblivion. hades is wearing a crown that mangled his head.

persephone steps off of the train, and is taken aback by the state hadestown is in

the people feel her breeze in, and it is some relief, but the can’t tell how this will change things. if it’ll make things worse, if it’ll make it better

people ask for her aid; but she’s too busy looking around, trying to find the songbirds (after getting confirmation that they’re still alive) who are still hiding

and she finds them. she sees orpheus and eurydice (orpheus, who hades so clearly saw himself in, and eurydice, who she sees herself in) still fighting, still in love.

she sees hades’ mercilessness to the boy he sees himself in. she sees eurydice’s unending determination (in contrast to her own grown apathy)

and she’s reminded of times before. song or no song.

she decides that this cannot keep going, and hades will keep going farther and farther until he fucking self-destructs at the end of his fall and she wants to catch him before that happens

hades raises his fist against his people, persephone takes his hand and she starts singing. the old song. holding his hand. protecting the people.

la, la la la, la la la

and he realizes what he’s doing, as music swells, as the rest of hadestown, quietly, starts to join her in singing. as her warmth, her natural warmth, surrounds him, and he smells flowers and feels pollen and sunlight, and he--

well, the ice around his heart starts to crack, and the iron starts to melt

she catches him before he breaks

His Kiss, the Riot is... different

more emotionally charged, i think, because of the fight he’s been fighting for so long, so fiercely and ardently. he’s much more emotionally compromised, stressed and strung out and now everything’s been turned on his head

he can’t just let them go, but he can’t make them stay. he definitely cannot make them stay. and if the songbirds leave, they will take almost all of hadestown with them

it’s not like... Hellfire Notre Dame levels of dramatic. it’s still quiet, dark, and brooding, but hades is. more of a mess, really

but he comes to his conclusion all the same

that’s about all i got on this. i just wanted to make a note. i thought it was important

the task is given: they can walk, but eurydice must walk in front, and orpheus must follow behind. she must not turn behind to see if orpheus is following--if he has not collapsed, and she will not be able to hear if he has. if she turns, she may return above, but her lover will return to hadestown.

it’s given to eurydice instead because while she might be harder to instill doubt in, she’s as much susceptible to loneliness as any other. she may have been alone for so long, but she is desperate to not be alone again. and orpheus is still weak--still sick, and she fears he might give out before they reach the top, as much as he assures her he’ll be fine

and if they fail, well, they keep the poet, who was damned to hell anyway--a sentence is stronger than a contract

(Also, this is now Wait For Me III (the first being Orpheus on the way to Hadestown; second being Eurydice trying to find Orpheus; this is the third) and it is HUGE and GRAND, as the climax of the revolution. just as big, if not bigger than the bway version’s

(tho as per usual it’s tinged with sadness because of the circumstances, and the fact that, if this were staged, orpheus would be the only one not singing)

and then... doubt comes in

eurydice walks the path to the surface

hermes' warnings echo in her head, all the same he gave to orpheus in the normal timeline

it's cold

the fates badger her and bleed into her thoughts, systematically unwinding her confidence as she marches on through the dark

one foot after the other, she tells herself

after so long of turning her back to the wind, to the fates, she has learned to keep her head on straight

orpheus is not sturdy, especially now, but he is not so weak to fail on a walk like this--long, but simple, and upon even ground

he is there, she tells herself. he is strong enough to keep up.

his heart is strong enough. it has to be.

hades lied to everyone in the underground--hades lied to make hadestown, she thinks

hades...

just this once--

she chooses to believe he didn't lie to her.

(pt. i) (pt. ii) (pt. iii) (pt. v) (epilogue) (askblog)

bonus:

#unswayed au #hadestown #hadestown au #my art #my work #i'm thinking about naming each parts #like breaking up this story into sections #the first with orpheus' failing is Banishment #the second is Search / Survival a la eurydice looking for him and orpheus trying to last #the third is Exodus #the fourth is Riots #the fifth is......... youll find out later :)

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