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Violet Evergarden: Booklet 2

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I wanted that star. I wanted to be the person who would piece through that star.

Leon Stephanotis and the First Star

I had once seen a comet that only came around every two hundred years together with a girl.

It had happened years ago. That was one beautiful evening. Even now, I can still vividly recall the twinkling of the stars we watched on that day while our bodies shivered at the coldness of the nightly wind. Like jewels scattered over a dark canopy, the starry sky was enough to make one forget to even breathe. As it passed by, dragging its white tail, the meteor looked just like a fairy in flight with insect scales scattering about from her wings.

Whenever I looked at a beautiful night sky, I would think many times over, “Aah, now that I’ve branded this moment into my heart, I’d have no regrets if someone reaped my life away”. Should I lose my life, I wanted it to be on a starry night like that. I wanted to die with the memory of witnessing something stunning.

“May the night sky be a beautiful starry one on the day I die,” I wished.

But that one evening was a little bit different. Maybe because I had someone to watch the stars with me. Maybe because that was my first love.

She was a gorgeous person. Even more than the stars. Her hair looked like the Sun when shining under the moonlight and her blue eyes were like gemstones created from a mix of the sea and the sky. With her porcelain skin and skylark voice, the way she walked was just as that of a well-cared maiden. In reality, she was an orphaned ex-soldier, as well as an Auto-Memories Doll from a far-away southern country, so the saying “don’t judge a book by its cover” was pertinent when it came to her.

She was most likely an once-in-a-lifetime kind of person, one that you couldn’t know if you would ever get to meet.

My chest throbbed even at the sigh that leaked from her when she was peeking at the telescope. When she looked my way and smiled faintly, I experienced an impact as if I had been hit in the head, giving in to a love that made me feel like my whole body would melt and crumble down.

“Master, astronomical observations are quite a wonderful thing.”

If, by any chance, my body were to be crushed by a star in that moment, only on that day did I want to keep looking at something, even if for just one second more. I wanted to keep looking at her. Forever and ever, I wished. That was what I thought.

This encounter had changed my life and decided my fate. I didn’t mind if people laughed at that, calling me a romanticist. I, Leon Stephanotis, whose destiny had been altered, would always look back on it.

On the day that I had watched the stars with Violet Evergarden.

“There was a sea of gold in his land” – who was it again that had sung the praises of a desert like this?

“I’m beat.”

When bookworms read too much, their head’s capacity would exceed the limit, so they would automatically forget the things they had read in their early phases. I had confidence in my memorization abilities and yet I couldn’t remember this, so it was surely a passage from an adventure novel or something of the sort that I had read in my childhood.

——What a beautiful comparison.

When I actually stood in the middle of a desert, my impressions were drawn to the temperatures, sunlight and other such things regarding the environment instead, so this poetic expression hadn’t crossed my mind. In the destinations of my travels, I often reminisced to a certain someone who was somewhere in this world, as well as the things she, who spoke words as beautiful as that, used to say, as if borrowing them.

“So pretty...”

I liked the color of gold. I could observe the grains of sand moving smoothly for all eternity.

“Everyone, you did well; the books we excavated will be brought back by another group. Meaning that we from the starting line-up are finally off for the first time in months.”

As I was spacing out, I didn’t hear the commander’s words very well. I was only staring at the ground, missing out on everything. When I raised my head, the happy-looking faces of my bearded and somewhat dirty colleagues entered my eyes. All I understood right away was that we would get a vacation.

“After we get twenty days off, we’ll regroup in Iustitia, at Shaher’s headquarters. After that, we’ll go to that place in the south where the reconnaissance team was sent. Next will be our turn to bring back the luggage. Don’t let your bodies get weak.”

“Roger that.” Once everybody gave an agreeable reply in unison, we disbanded from the spot.

Iustitia, Shaher’s headquarters. The main office of my occupation. I was previously in a section called the codex department, devotedly working on the deciphering of documents and copying manuscripts, but now I had been transferred to a completely different section. It sounded good when we were called the leading actors, but it was actually a group of reeking adventure rascals, the literature collecting department.

I put my heavy baggage sack on the ground and heaved a breath. Wiping the white folk clothes that I had been provided with on-site, I dusted the sand off them. This clothing called dola – a long robe secured by a waist belt – looked flappy and inflexible at first glance, but it was surprisingly easy to move around in. It was made of a rather velvety silk material, so there would normally not be so much sand sticking to it, but since I was caught in a sandstorm until just a moment ago, there was no helping it.

We had returned from a thorough search in the ruins of an abandoned castle, once the dominion of a royal clan whose name was eminent in the past. A book burning movement had taken place in this land at a certain point, but we had received information that a scholar from those times, out of fear towards the situation, had hidden valuable books in the forsaken palace. The information was apparently right, so after wandering around all over the deserted castle, we had found dozens of books. The books that would be taken to Shaher’s headquarters were to be made into written copies and spread to the world.

Made for protection purposes, Shaher’s literature collection was also well-reputed in other countries. It was difficult to negotiate with the locals responsible for the abandoned castle, but we were allowed entrance this time as well thanks to our achievements thus far. Just like that, someone’s story, studies and feelings, which were supposed to have disappeared, would breathe once again. The books we had been looking for would be delivered to other people and comfort them during long nights.

——What a wonderful thing.

The working environment was awful, but I was proud of my job.

I sat down on my luggage and gazed at the cityscape while drinking water from my canteen. In this desert-zone city, everyone’s clothes seemed harmonized no matter what color they wore.

“Senior Leon, what will you do on your days off?”

As a junior who had not yet left the spot called to me, I furrowed my brows and looked at his face. He was a young man of masculine facial traits, which was enviable to someone as baby-faced as me.

“Hey, Sir.”

A rarity amongst the members of our unit, the man had not been born in Iustitia. If I wasn’t mistaken, he was a rich kid who had been born in a southern country and entered Shaher through connections with the foundation executives.

Getting a job at the Shaher Observatory was a daunting task even for those who had studied astronomy. It was hard to make it without learning in a good environment from an early age. Since Iustitia, the capital of stargazing, was the best place to study in, it was natural that the ones hired were mostly the locals.

——Well, this guy had connections, so this has nothing to do with him.

I pondered an answer. “Nothing in particular.” For the time being, I decided to be cold, acting as nonchalant as ever.

And this was also the same as always, but the junior took no offense in my crude response – rather, he laughed at me, looking happy. “Then that means you’ve got no plans. I was thinking of going home. If you’d like, how about we go together? We have a villa by the lake... If I go now, the schedule will allow my family to join in.”

“No, why do I—”

“Last time we had a break, I told my little sisters about your cool adventure story and they wouldn’t shut up about how much they wanted to meet you. Hey, hey, how about it?”

I was baffled. I had no idea what was good about me to this junior but he would oddly flock to me. The reason why I hadn’t told him about my plans right away was that I felt he would follow me if I did so. Honestly, he was a bother. Up to now, we had acted as a group. I wanted to be alone even if a second sooner.

“I’m not going.”

“No way... My family’s all pretty boys and girls! Sir, you like beautiful things, don’t you?”

“Do they look like you?”

“They do.”

“Then they might be pretty, but won’t be my type.”

“Sir! You’re horrible!”

“So loud. If your family’s waiting for you, hurry and go.”

While I gestured with my hand as if shooing a dog, the junior made a puppy-like sad face. Even though he had a big body, he was amicable and his display of emotions was richer than most people, making him look all the more like a dog.

“Then, if you ever feel like coming to see me during your break...”

“I won’t.”

“...could you contact a hotel called Varona in Leidenschaftlich?”

“I won... uh?”

“It’s a first-class accommodation establishment. It’s under my uncle’s administration, so you can get a stay there immediately, and I can pick you up as soon as you give me my name. Oh, you’re making an interested face, huh? Want to come with me right now?”

What piqued my interest was the word “Leidenschaftlich” – that was all.

——That’s where the CH Postal Company is.

And it was also where my first love worked at.

“You were from Leidenschaftlich...?”

“That’s right. I did say it in my self-introduction when I joined the department.”

“Well, I don’t listen to people I have no interest in...”

As expected, my junior gave a happy-looking smile with his whole face. “Sir, I like that you’re equally unfriendly to everyone. People only got close to me because of my title... and my family’s social standing... but Sir, you’re cold, and that feels nice.”

“Your suffocating actions are a pain in the ass to me. Besides, hum...”

“What is it, Sir?”

“Hum, say... is the CH Postal Company well-known?”

“Do you know Violet Evergarden?” – the reason why I couldn’t ask this was a literal embodiment of how much I lacked guts, I thought.

With an “aah”, my junior immediately made a face like the name rang a bell. “I know them. It’s the company of that businessman, Claudia Hodgins, right? They’re popular. Shocking that the name of a company would come from you.”

“I’m an adult, after all. I’d know the name of one or two renowned businesses at least.”

“That’s a lie, ain’t it? I already know you don’t have interest in anything but stars. Erm... if I’m not wrong, all the postal companies of Leiden got sucked into it. They also succeeded in company split-ups. Their president is a celebrity too. The newspaper series where he talks to other entrepreneurs is a trend... It got adapted into a book just recently. There’s a chapter in the extra edition where he talks to his secretary and the president of an affiliated company, and it’s so fun. The book’s in my room at the headquarters, so you can take it with you and read it all you want.”

“Is there nothing about business in that book? Like, about the Auto-Memories Doll field... Hum, according to my research, there should be a rather famous Auto-Memories Doll in it... Don’t know if she’s still there, though.”

I timidly attempted to ask, yet it seemed my junior didn’t know the details. That was expected. The number of people who could hire Auto-Memories Dolls was limited, so hardly anybody would know even the name of a famed Doll unless it was someone marginally acquainted with them.

“I wonder. I do sorta know that they apparently have one real beauty of a Doll. But I also have a good-looking face... so I don’t yield to beauties from here and there.”

“Got it. Thanks for the info. And for the nice conversation. Go home.”

“Sir...! If you get bored of being alone, please remember me!”

Leaving behind my clingy junior, I took off from that place. I strutted with a hand in my pocket.

My junior wasn’t a bad guy. He had a high-handed personality but fit into the category of good person. He must have talked to me like that because he knew about my background as an orphan who had lost his parents and got a job at the astronomical observatory by way of assistance from Shaher. Meaning he was worried about his senior, who would be spending his vacation alone with no lover or family. The reason why he had invited me to a house where his family would be was probably that he was exposing his intentions in his own way.

——But to hell with that.

I wanted to be alone. To say that the people who thought I was pitiful were the actual pitiful ones was my essence. I had always enjoyed watching the stars by myself anyway, and I enjoyed books about stars too. Book reading wasn’t meant to be done with two people, right? I liked being alone. This was also because I had lived a life of accepting solitude for a long time, but if anything, it was harder for me to settle down when I was in someone’s company.

When I turned the street corner and confirmed that he finally wasn’t following me anymore, I let out a relieved sigh.

——Alone at last. Time and space just for me.

The times when I was by myself like this were the ones I felt most comfortable in, and while I did have some things to reflect upon in that regard, unfortunately, I didn’t have a family to pester me about having children, unlike the rest of society. Because I was alone.

——I get that it isn’t a good thing.

There were things that you couldn’t get used to or change, despite understanding why you should. I was equal parts as obstinate as I felt inferior to those who had families. Only one person had ever made me want to be with her for a little longer when I was in her company.

——Only one.

Our circumstances were similar and we were also alike in that we were burdened with loneliness, but it wasn’t as if I liked her because of the similarity. It was because she seemed like she would be all right even if she were on her own, so I had wished to stay by her side. To get close to her. I “liked” her in that way. It wasn’t as if I wanted her to do something for me. I was the one who wanted to do something for her. It was that kind of “like”.

It had happened a long time ago.

After we had spent a little time together, she left. When we were bidding our farewells, I stopped her and confessed.

“Violet.”

I told her I was in love with her. I didn’t ask her, “I like you, so what do you wanna do?” – I simply told her I liked her.

“I’m... I’m... in the codex department now, but... I actually wanted to be in the literature collecting department like my father.”

She gave me this answer: the way that she cherished me was different.

“I had my hopes up that maybe my mother would come home one day if I waited here, bringing my father back with her... so I kept shutting myself in until this age, without ever stepping off into the outside world. That was possible in this place and I wanted it myself. But... just now...”

But if we ever happened to meet again, she wanted to spend time with me.

“I’ve just made up my mind. I’ll go around the world like you.”

In that moment, the woman who had said that she couldn’t feel emotions...

“I might face danger. I might lose my life without anyone ever finding my body, just like my parents. But—But that’s okay. I’m thinking of choosing that path.”

...smiled at me like a normal girl, looking happy, and told me something.

“If I do that, I’m sure we might get to meet someday, somewhere, under a starry sky. We’re both gypsies. And if that happens, will you...”

——...watch the stars with me again?

“Yes, Master.”

She told me that. She said it. This alone was already enough for me. This alone gave me the courage to come out of the world that I had been secluding myself in. Even if my love wasn’t requited, even if we never saw each other again, I was so happy.

She.

Violet.

Violet Evergarden.

Just that – just the fact that she had promised to watch the stars with me – had made me happy to the point of changing my life.

I kept making transfer requests ever since that day, finally earned approval and ventured myself into the outside world. The world other than Iustitia that I saw for the first time was bustling with a dizzying variety of things, which made me regret secluding myself. But surely, if I hadn’t met her, I would have taken a lot longer to go outside. No, I might have never left that bird cage to begin with.

That environment where I was allowed to wallow was terribly indulgent. After all, everyone was awfully nice to me for not being able to stand up, just because I was sad.

I didn’t simply think that I would definitely get to see her at least once. The probability of an astronomer and an Auto-Memories Doll, who had spent time together at work, meeting even once was surely the same as the meteor we had seen that day – once every two hundred years.

I was being ridiculous. If I really wanted to see her, I should just go visit her postal company in Leiden. The reason why I didn’t do it was that I was scared. That maybe her words were just out of friendliness, and that, if we did meet, she wouldn’t even remember me and I would be rejected. On top of being terrified of this, I also had a dream.

That if we ever happened to reunite, I wanted us to meet again truly by coincidence, under a starry sky.

If something like that really were to happen, just what would I do? Would I smile? Cry? Or ask for her love again?

I nodded at a passerby who had almost collided with me and started walking again. I had no particular destination. I could also go back to the headquarters just like this and be an idle bookworm in my own room, but going sightseeing around this city for at least a little bit was also good.

——I won’t get to see Violet if I stay in that place.

I had no free time to spend money, so I could afford the luxury of staying at a remotely nice hotel. Having made up my mind, I went into the main street and began looking for accommodation in the desert capital.

Local idioms were honestly my weak point. Even though it was a common language, it was hard to catch because of the many dialects. When I talked to elders, I was done for.

However, I could perfectly understand that the inn’s owner, an old gentleman, had treated me like a “young lady”. Of course, I told him he was mistaken, but he didn’t hear it. He led me to my room with a hand around my hips.

The room was quite a high-class one, so I let it slide. If it were my old self, I would have been as furious as a raging fire. But I had grown up. By holding back my anger, I would manage to spend the night in a proper bed, where it didn’t seem like bugs would show up, so becoming an adult was for the best. Even if my self-respect decreased a little.

While I was chilling in the room and writing my diary, the sun went down in a blink of eye and it was getting late into the evening.

“Heave-ho.”

It was the dead of night. I put on warm clothes and prepared myself to go out.

I wanted to observe the desert’s starry sky at my own leisure. As our activities had been limited to daytime ever since we had arrived here, I was now finally getting to do the things that I actually felt like doing. I had watched it together with everyone else from the windows of the cheap inn that the literature collecting department’s personnel had stayed at, but as expected, I wanted to see it from a spacious place with no noise or anything of the sort. As a scholar born in the so-called “capital of stargazing”, I obviously was going to have my fill of the desert’s night sky.

Unable to contain my feelings of excitement, I left the room after my lips relaxed a bit. For the heck of it, I greeted the innkeeper and told him I was going to see the stars. When I did so, he made a worried-looking face.

Apparently, women were forbidden of wandering outside at night in these lands. He couldn’t stop me from going out since I wasn’t a local, but warned me not to get too close to men. It wasn’t as if there were many ruffians among the people who walked around at night, but simply that this city had this kind of culture, so if the men suddenly spotted a woman, they might think badly of it. I had grown up in a men’s dormitory watching a bunch of idiots, so I understood what he was trying to say.

I showed him the retractable cane I was holding, and while I was at it, I also demonstrated with one swing that a blade came out from the tip as well. It was not for killing anyone, but it sufficed for making the other party recoil and holding them back.

Receiving the innkeeper’s applause from behind, I ventured myself outside.

The temperature gaps between nighttime and daytime was extreme in the desert. Having been raised in a mountaintop astronomical observatory, I was used to areas where there was a discrepancy in temperatures between day and night, but even then, I could bring myself to deem it as comfortable due to differences in humidity. The instant I stepped outside, I shuddered with a “brr”.

However, I forgot the cold as soon as I saw the sight spreading overhead. Surely, God must have dropped His jewel box. The starry sky unfolded in a way that made even someone like me come up with such a poetic saying.

Due to the fact that it was nighttime, there were few people out, but it wasn’t as if nobody was wandering about the city. Just as the innkeeper had said, it seemed that someone with a womanly appearance (I wasn’t a woman at all, though) walking around did catch people’s eyes, as they called to me countless times. I put myself on guard in each of those instances, and everyone withdrew with the same caution as the innkeeper.

Not letting the women walk around late at night was also meant for protecting them.

I had heard that there was a place for stargazing aimed at tourists somewhere a little far from the city, so I headed there, for safety as well. Several tents were erected around the sparse green area. In addition to privately built tents, there were also merchant tents selling drinks and food.

After looking through the signboards with the prices of the alcohol and warm soups that people of this region consumed and were familiar with, I picked the alcohol. I was an adult now and on vacation, so I told myself that it was okay to drink today and gave myself permission.

I went for a cloudy-colored alcoholic drink simmered in a large pot called the witch’s cauldron. It was warm and sweet, with a slightly spicy aftertaste. It warmed your body when you drank it and was the best delicacy to savor in cold weather.

Some people invited me to enter their tents, but I refused and steadily began setting up by arranging the astronomical observation tools that I had prepared. I assembled a demountable astronomical telescope over the sheets.

Even though this was said to be a place for stargazing, not everyone seemed to be astronomy freaks like in Iustitia – most of them were lying on the ground, enjoying a conversation with their companions while relishing in the jewels of the night. Everyone other than myself had simple handheld telescopes, so a few locals started appearing fussily around me, looking greatly interested. If anything, there weren’t just tourists.

A young father who had a child with him shyly came to ask me, “How much is it for you to let us take a look?” Apparently, he had mistaken me for a merchant.

“I don’t take money for it. It’s something for me to enjoy myself.”

The young parent made a bewildered face at my blunt reply, but nervously stepped in front of the kid and said, “It’s okay even if it’s just for a little bit, couldn’t you let this child take a peek?”

“Sure, it’s fine.”

He was also surprised at my ready consent. As he asked one more time if I really wasn’t going to charge for it, I declared that I wasn’t, swearing by this land’s god.

I beckoned the child. Our heights didn’t match since he was too small, so I lifted him by the hips.

“Can you see them?”

“Just a tad higher.”

“This much?”

“Amaziiing.”

At the child’s delighted look, the father and I locked eyes with each other and laughed. Then, other people who had been surrounding us at a distance came over one after another, asking me to let them see next. Whenever I said that I wasn’t charging any fee, they would ask me back, “Are you a saint or what?”.

In a land where you could see such beautiful stars, astronomical telescopes weren’t wild-spread among locals, enjoyed only by tourists and outsiders. That was probably the case. For them, this was an expensive item brought by outsiders. The stars were beautiful enough at naked eye, so if I had to say it, telescopes weren’t necessary. But if there was something that would help them see better, there would obviously be people saying that they want to take a look.

——Guess I’m gonna contact Shaher’s donors and indicate this place as a potential donation site.

If this pleased so many people, maybe it would be nice to have a telescope that everyone could look into, just as there were benches where everyone could sit on along the streets. I liked stars, so it made me happy even if just one more person fell in love with them.

“Having fun?”

“We are! You’re so generous!”

The figure of an elderly man much older than myself smiling like a boy, looking extremely happy, struck home pretty hard. It wasn’t like I wanted to hang out with anyone or that I had a preference for getting along with everybody. That wasn’t the case at all.

“This thing’s pricey, ain’t it? You okay with people touchin’ it without a care?”

“It’s not made for decoration; it’s something to look at.”

But these kinds of moments were nice.

——Very nice.

If these once-in-a-lifetime encounters would increase the proportion of stargazing in someone’s life, nothing could make me happier.

——When I get old, I guess I’m gonna run a rent-a-telescope or something like that somewhere.

I decided to take a few steps back and let everyone enjoy themselves.

This sensation that the joy of the surroundings was becoming more and more contagious. This feeling that people were gathering there only out of curiosity and adventurous spirit, not for profit. It didn’t seem fitting of my usual self, but something like this was also conceivable every once in a while.

With nothing to do, I naturally started looking around. Wonderful night, wonderful atmosphere.

The figure of someone standing still amongst it all entered my field of vision even without me wanting to. Everyone else had a companion.

The person was clad in dola like me and had a veil covering her face. From her physique, I could somehow presume that she was probably a woman.

Hoping that no weirdos would go talk to her, I worried about and kept watch over the woman, just like people had done for me. If she got caught up by anybody, should I intervene?

I used to hate women, yet here I was, concerning myself with one. I might have a misconstrued sense of justice, but I at least had to care.

I was just looking at her for a little while simply for that reason, but the instant that the wind blew strongly, all of my nerves became her captive. Her veil came off. It came off just slightly and I could see her face.

Her golden hair fluttered leniently. Her shapely profile was exposed under the starry sky. This beauty that could be discerned even in the nightly darkness was breathtaking.

It was really just a few seconds’ time and she immediately fixed the veil back on tight, but I had already seen her, so I knew. I knew.

I knew who that was.

Distancing myself from the telescope, I walked unsteadily towards her. Like winged bugs that gathered up to light.

This person literally shone like a lantern in my life. It was fire that wouldn’t disappear, no matter how much time passed. Time only strengthened the flame’s vigor.

That was why, aah, I... I...

“Violet Evergarden... is that you?”

That was why I called to her at that moment, with a shrill voice. As she looked at me, her eyes slowly crinkled, the corners of her lips went up and she smiled at me.

I felt like tearing up at that.

“It has been a while, Master.”

I had dreamed of this.

“Is it really you?”

I had dreamed of this day.

“Yes, Master.”

Always had been.

“Stupid, I’m not your master anymore... I have a name too... You’ve probably forgotten about it, but I... My name is...”

I had dreamed of this day and had always been thinking about what to say if we ever got to meet again.

“Mr. Leon Stephanotis. Is ‘Mr. Leon’ all right?”

If it were under a starry sky with not a single cloud, we could talk about its bare beauty. If it were on a rainy day, we could discuss the mythology related to the constellations.

“Did I mistake it? I have confidence in my memorization skills, but...”

If it were on a night where a once-in-every-two-centuries meteor were to pass by, we could share stories of the past in which we had observed the sky together.

“No... you got it right. You got it... Just ‘Leon’ is fine... Violet, the time you spent with me was so long ago, and yet, you sure... managed to...”

I had dreamed of this. You had no idea, did you, Violet Evergarden?

“You sure managed to remember.”

You were my first love. The first person I fell for. That day was the first time I confessed to someone.

“Leon, do you recall the promise we made?”

I opened the door to courage. I opened it thinking it would be okay even if I got hurt. But instead of hurting me, you accepted it. You broke my love to pieces, but still acknowledged it.

“Yeah.”

I had dreamed of this. Of this moment. You didn’t have to remember it. You could have forgotten what you had said to me. But if nothing else, I wanted to have one more look at you before I died.

“Have you memorized...”

One more time.

“...the names of a few stars?”

I wanted to see you one more time.

Violet Evergarden. I – the sixteen-year-old Leon Stephanotis – was in love with you.

He was in love with you. So was my current self. Now that you were in front of me, I could tell as much, even if I didn’t want to.

The flame inside my chest was saying, “This woman is the one who started the fire.” It told me that you were the woman who burned me up. You had burned me, and you still were. You melted everything that I had locked up within ice. It told me that you were the woman of my fate.

Violet wordlessly nodded in agreement. She nodded like a child. She was happy that I remembered what she had told me – I could tell by the facial expression she was making.

——You used to be so expressionless and doll-like – who was it that changed you so much?

You weren’t a doll anymore now. More like a girl who had someone’s love. You didn’t look like anything but that in my eyes ever since you were with me, though. But now, surely you had someone. This someone had changed you to that point, right?

“Violet,” I said, suppressing the pain of my sweltering chest. “If you have some time, won’t you spend it with me?” I asked.

I was attempting to open the door to courage again. Regardless of what awaited me beyond it, even if I regretted opening it. I asked nevertheless.

You changed me. You made me who I was. You probably didn’t know that. You didn’t have to.

“Yes, by all means.”

And this beautiful woman in front of me, too.

“I had been waiting for a day to come when I inform you about the fruits of my studies.”

Surely, she had also been made by someone.

“Should we ever meet, I had wanted to report them to you, even if you did not remember.”

Envy, affection and attachment ran through my body.

“That is what I was thinking.”

My sixteen-year-old self was screaming. “I was in love with you. I was in love with you. I was in love with you. I’m in love with you. Even now, I still like you,” he shouted.

I no longer had any of the youth and recklessness of those days. However, regarding my love for her, the me from back when I confessed to her was still here.

“I’m sure what I’m gonna say now will trouble you. But would you listen?”

I was still here. That version of me was still inside me.

Violet Evergarden, you...

“You can laugh if you want; you see...”

...to me, you... a woman like you was...

“You were my first love.”

Violet Evergarden, you...

“I still like you. Forgive me.”

To me, you were a woman of the stars.

#violet evergarden #fyeahvioletevergarden #veedit #kyoani #kyoto animation #leon stephanotis #violet evergarden booklets #akatsuki kana #takase akiko #novel #my translation #leon stephanotis and the first star #leon stephanotis to ichibanboshi

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ragingpancake · 3 years

Text

I Will Try (To Fix You) - Part 2

It’s ten days before Carson deems Rodney “well enough” to return to his quarters. To date, this has been the longest infirmary stay that Rodney’s ever had and truthfully, he should probably stay a bit longer. His kidneys still aren’t functioning as well as they should, which means Carson’s been closely monitoring his water intake and urine output and a whole host of other things that John knows Rodney is embarrassed about. He’s also not entirely steady on his feet, courtesy of the muscle spams that wrack his calves and his thighs, bad enough sometimes to nearly bring him to tears. It’s ten days before John, Carson and Elizabeth have a very real, very difficult conversation about what a prolonged stay in the infirmary will likely do Rodney mentally, left with nothing really to occupy his time except, well, time to think about just how close he’d come to death. Carson is reluctant to release him; they haven’t yet gotten him back to solid foods and of course his kidney function is still a concern, but John knows Rodney, knows that he needs to be anywhere but here and he argues his case: Rodney can come stay in his quarters. His team is grounded for the foreseeable future, courtesy of John who is unwilling to go off-world without his entire team and while he’s offered to temporarily reassign Teyla and Ronon to Lorne, they share his line of thinking. Rodney can come stay with John, but he has his whole team who’ll be watching out for him, who will bring him for twice daily check ins, if needed, who will monitor any time spent in the lab, who just want Rodney to have some semblance of normalcy during his recovery. It must be an impassioned speech, because by the time he’s done, Elizabeth nods her consent and John finds for the first time in ten days, it’s a little easier to breath.

--- Rodney, predictably, complains about the arrangement. He’s not keen on having a babysitter and that hurts John’s stunted feelings more than he’d ever admit out loud. But when Carson makes it clear that the only option is an extended stay in the infirmary, he relents pretty easily and all that’s left is to prepare John’s quarters. Easy peasy. Right? Wrong. It turns out that the room John’s claimed for himself isn’t quite meant for two people. It’s small and while it’s fine for just him, he knows that it’s going to be too cramped, too claustrophobic and so he spends the eleventh day scouting out some of the larger quarters near the East Pier with Teyla, pretending to understand when she makes suggestions based on where the light from the rising sun falls and which room has the best view of the ocean, which she believes will aid in Rodney’s recovery. He’s never been much into new age bullshit that seems to be pretty common across two galaxies, but he’s willing to shove a couple of crystals up his own ass if it means getting Rodney better.

He enlists Ronon, Lorne and a couple of marines to help move their things. John leaves his own quarters to Wallace, Gregory and Barnes despite how uncomfortable the thought of them seeing his own personal effects makes him, and he takes Rodney’s room with Ronon and Lorne. Rodney, for his part, has a lot of stuff. It takes the better part of the afternoon to get everything moved over, including Rodney’s deceptively heavy prescription mattress, his four laptops and the whiteboard that he’d swiped from the labs within the first week of their arrival. John’s stuff, save for his own bed, mostly fits in a couple bags. By the time they’re finished, he’s tired, shoulders and back aching, reminding him just how fucking old he’s getting, but still, he trudges down to the infirmary, plastering a smile on his face for Rodney as he steps in through the paneled doors. “Hey buddy,” he greets. “Got us all set up in some new digs. Wait until you see the tub in this one,” he says, nodding as Carson comes over, Rodney’s chart in hand. “He all good to go, Doc?” “I suppose he’ll have to be, now won’t he?” He asks and there’s a scowl there that John cheerfully ignores. “I expect him back here at 10 and 2, Colonel. A minute late for either appointment and he’s back here, d’you understand?” “10 and 2, just like a steering wheel. Got it, doc. How about the food situation?” “Yeah, what he said,” Rodney frowns and John knows from previous experience just how miserable a clear liquid diet can be. “I’m alright with him startin’ on solids, but take it easy,” Carson warns. “Nothin’ too heavy,” and Rodney waves him off, but despite his lackadaisical nature, John really is taking this seriously, committing everything to memory. “Got it. We good?” Carson pauses for a moment before he sighs. “Aye. But not a moment late, Colonel!” He warns as Marie and Simpson come, pushing a wheelchair that Rodney tries to vehemently refuse. John settles a hand on his shoulder gently. “Hey, hey. C’mon. Easy. It’s a pretty long walk to the pier, alright? Let’s not push it too much on your first day.” “Traitor,” Rodney mutters under his breath and John actually does smile because it feels a little like it used to before those God damned Carneans. John steadies the wheelchair while Marie and Simpson maneuver Rodney into it and after what feels like forever, they’re finally on their way. “You did get my laptops, right?” “Yes, Rodney.” “And what about the Athosian soaps from the bathroom? Those were made specially for me by Gita and, and, and the medicinal properties-- “We got ‘em.” “My mattress?” “Of course.” Rodney harrumphs like maybe he’s expecting John to have forgotten something, as if John would ever. “What about—” “Your favorite red pen that you use to mark up all those damn physics journals? Yep. Got that too. We grabbed everything, buddy. And if there’s somethin’ you need that we don’t have, just say the word and we’ll make it happen.” Rodney falls strangely quiet at that. --- It’s easy to live with Rodney. Lorne had very nearly pissed himself from laughter when John said so after the first few days and honestly, John took a little offense to that on Rodney’s behalf. Sure, he’s messy and he’s loud and the longer he’s out, the more of his biting sarcasm is returning, but John’s all for it, especially when he considers the alternative. (And he does consider it, frequently, usually in the dead of night when he wakes up from nightmares of vomit and grey skin, of an antidote recovered too late). But honestly, save for the fact that John now has to deal with Rodney’s dirty clothes strewn across the room and the stupid whiteboard that takes up the space that John’s surf board should be occupying, not much has changed at all, a testament to just how much time the two of them had spent together even before this. John follows Carson’s instructions to a T, and okay, maybe that’s a little different too because John’s always been the one to avoid the infirmary at all costs when it comes to his own health and

well-being, but he’s not taking a chance with Rodney’s. He takes him to his appointments and at nights, when the muscle spasms seem to be the worst, John sits with him on that stupidly comfortable bed, kneading the tight muscles in his legs as he tries to distract Rodney with shitty 80s movies and random banter about anything and everything that he thinks will goad Rodney into a tirade that’ll take his mind off of the pain. He even lets Rodney have four hours a day in the labs, split into two hour segments with an hour break in between. Normalcy. That’s the goal here and Rodney’s always at his best when he’s in his element, berating scientists and defying all laws of physics. That’s where Rodney is when everything goes to hell. --- It’s been twenty days since the Carneans. Ten days of the two of them cohabitating, ten days of Rodney slowly working his way back to normal. He’s been subsisting entirely of power bars and MREs, which, while not entirely healthy has been cleared by Carson if only for the fact that they provide sustenance without being too taxing on Rodney’s still delicate system and John’s just thinking about whether or not he can try to convince Rodney to try something a little more substantial from the mess later that evening when the call comes in over the radio. “Zelenka to Colonel Sheppard, please respond.” He sounds harried and John closes the latest mission report from Lorne’s team, already on his feet and moving when he taps his comm. “Sheppard here, go ahead Doc.” “I need you in Science Lab 3 please. There is a… situation.” “What do you mean by situation, Radek?” But when Radek keys up his comm again, John can hear the panicked wheezing in the background and he picks it up to a swift jog. “I believe Rodney is having a panic attack,” he says. “I have tried to bring him around but nothing is working and I--.” “I’m on my way. Sheppard out.” He meets Ronon in the corridor and he doesn’t even have to say a word before the Satedan is altering his own course, following after John. They can hear it before they even open the door. Rodney’s on the verge of hyperventilating, the sound of his ragged breaths interspersed with pained moans and Ronon is quick to clear the lab of well meaning scientists who are gaping at the scene while Radek tries to shield Rodney from view as much as possible. “Hey, hey,” John says soothingly, trying to keep his voice calm despite the way his heart is beating against his ribcage. “I’m here, buddy. Rodney, look at me. Hey, hey,” and he reaches out, finger under Rodney’s chin as he tips his head up, wild blue eyes meeting hazel. John wants to take Rodney’s hand, but his arms are wrapped around his middle, clutching his stomach so tightly and John glances over at the toppled plate on the floor, shards of glass now mixed with what looks like not-meatloaf. “Talk to me, Doc,” John calls over his shoulder at Zelenka. “What the hell happened?” “He was out of power bars, but hungry, so Miko thought perhaps he might be enticed to eat by something from the mess, knowing that this,” he gestures, “was Rodney’s favorite. He managed a couple of bites and everything was fine until… until it was not.” “Cramps,” Rodney rasps, reaching out to grip John’s wrist painfully. “Cramps. Poison, I—I can’t--.” “Get Carson down here,” John snarls, voice softening as he turns back to Rodney. “Hey. Listen to me, buddy. Carson told us this could happen, remember? The cramps. That’s why we started light. You’re okay though. I promise, Rodney. You’re okay, I’m right here and I need you to breathe.” It takes a bit of manhandling but John manages to get Rodney up enough that he can slide behind the other, drawing Rodney back against his chest, taking a couple of deep breaths. “C’mon, buddy. Breathe with me. You’re alright. I’ve got you. I’ve got you, Rodney.” That’s how Carson finds them a few moments later, Rodney trembling against the other, but thankfully no longer hyperventilating. “He’s alright,” John says, glancing up at Beckett. “Panic attack when

he tried to eat and cramped up.” “I thought—I thought--.” John pets through Rodney’s hair gently. “I know. You thought it happened again, but it didn’t, right? We’re gonna go down to the infirmary with Carson though and let him check you over so you can see for yourself.” “Easy, lad,” Carson says as Ronon comes over to help Rodney to his feet with more care than he’s shown anyone else, guiding him over to the gurney before he tugs John to his feet as well. “John—” Rodney rasps, the name catching his throat as the cramps hit again and he curls on his side, swallowing hard against the panic beginning to rise again. “I’m here,” John reminds him again, moving to take Rodney’s hand. “You’re alright, I promise.” And he is. He will be. John will be sure of that. --- The panic attacks don’t last long. He still cramps painfully when he eats, but the team is always with him at meal time to help him through it, John always, alwayseating a third of his food before switching his tray with Rodney’s for him to finish it, confident that there’s no poison. The effects of what had been done to him still linger, still present often and painfully, and sometimes, John doesn’t think what he’s doing is enough. That he should be doing more, that he should’ve done more back on that fucking planet to have saved Rodney from this entire ordeal. But Rodney’s getting better. John can see that when he goes longer and longer without a muscle spasm, or the first time he pees on his own and calls John in to see how clear it is, proof that his kidneys are finally starting to function normally. “You know,” Rodney says one night after they’ve pushed their beds close enough together that if they each scoot over to the edge, their shoulders are touching, “it probably won’t be too much longer until we can go back to our own quarters.” There’s an uncomfortable knot that twists itself up in John’s stomach at that but he swallows against the lump in his throat and says casually, “oh yeah? That’ll be cool. I guess.” “Yeah,” Rodney says and then he falls silent for a moment, as if waiting for something. Apparently, his impatience has returned full force because he doesn’t even give it a half a second before he’s speaking again. “I mean, unless we just… don’t?” Okay. That’s unexpected. “I just… this has been incredibly difficult, Colonel. Uh, John,” he corrects, “and you’ve… I know that this is probably because of some weird, misplaced guilt you’re harboring, because that’s how you are, Lieutenant Colonel Martyr, but… this has been okay… hasn’t it?” “Rodney, I--.” “I know I’m difficult. I’m messy and I’ll be going back to keeping weird hours soon enough and, and, and I know I can be annoying, but you’ve put up with that remarkably well and so I just thought--.” “I don’t want to go back to being alone,” John blurts out and he can feel the tension leaving Rodney’s body beside him. “Good. Me neither.” They fall into a comfortable silence then for a moment, the only sounds being their quiet breathing and the sound of the ocean waves through the open window. (Teyla was definitely right about picking this room.) “It’s not guilt,” John says after a moment. “I mean, not that I don’t feel guilty, because I should’ve never--.” He clears his throat and stops himself before he goes down that road. “You’re… I dunno. You’re McKay. Rodney. And I… when I found you that day, I thought you were dead,” and he can feel Rodney flinch at that, but he needs to get this out, he thinks. “I thought you’d died and I just… realized that I would’ve gone out of my fucking mind if you had, Rodney. Like, legitimately crazy because you’re… You’re you and I’m--. I’m yours. However you want me. If that means we forget this conversation ever happened and go back to how it was before all of this, I’m okay with that, but I just… I had to tell you because I came really fucking close to never getting another chance to.” Rodney is quiet, doesn’t say anything but after a moment, John can feel the other’s hand brush against his own before he

squeezes two of John’s fingers. “I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say at one time in all the time we’ve known each other.” And John laugh out loud at that, an actual laugh, and as he does, he feels that knot inside of him loosen just a bit. “Which is to say,” Rodney continues, “that I… would very much like to notforget this happened. I… suppose that I’m yours too. Maybe I always have been.” John doesn’t know where they’ll go from here. He’s under no delusions that this will be easy, any of it, but when has it ever been? All that matters though is that they have time now to work through it, to figure it out together. Maybe they’ll fix each other.

#mcshep #hurt/comfort #hurt rodney mckay #whumped rodney mcay #john sheppard #rodney mckay #sga #stargate atlantis #fandom: sga #angst #poisoning #panic attack

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quirklessidiot · 4 years

Text

Title: coward :: pretty girl Pairing: Y/N x Miya Atsumu Genre: angst, romance, and very slow burn [ex to lovers au] Warnings: Cursing, alchohol, mentions of unprotected sex, unplanned pregnancy, and mentions of abortion

Synopsis: : In which you finally meet the perfect girlfriend of Miya Atsumu and he starts to slowly accept the fact that whatever happened between you two is long gone (or is it?)

authors note:

here to give my thanks again, literally feels so surreal with how much love this story is getting despite the angst sjjsdjsjd i-

also ive released the prologue for my first ever smau! its a more lighthearted one compared to this one between sakusa and an older gn!reader, if you’re into that check it out here uwu

previous next masterlist

You’ve never actually seen Miya Atsumu and his girlfriend.

This was your first time today during Sugawara’s house party, Daiki had forced you to go and insisted that the three of them needed to have their manly bonding time (it actually only consisted of stuffing themselves with junk food and watching shounen animes), “...Also don’t you want to bond out with your ex-boyfriend that you chose over me? I’m hurt, I didn't know you like fake blonde volleyball players.” he fake-sniffled, in which you replied with an arched brow.

You didn’t know how he ended up knowing about Atsumu, you were expecting a talk from him but he simply shrugs it off and says, “No matter how much I tell you that you should tell him, you won’t listen. So I won’t bother wasting my breath, just know that you’re being selfish by denying these boys the right to have a father and you're denying that blonde shrimp to be a dad too.”

“Y/N-san, I’m surprised you came!” Sugawara grins.

“Daiki took charge of the kids.” You replied, fiddling with the keys in your hand.

“He looks very reliable.” the teacher exclaims, handing you a drink in which you completely deny because you weren’t very good with alcohol, “You guys would make a great couple!”

“Oh,” You voiced, you were very familiar with those words, many people had always thought you and Daiki would make a good pair. It was definitely a shock to many when they found out you were pregnant and that the basketball player was not the father despite being there most of the times, “I’ve never seen him that way.”

“He did mention that, he even openly confessed to Miya-san that he’s jealous of how he was your first boyfriend.”

You choked on your saliva, that fucking sly bastard-

“Anyways, make yourself comfortable! I have to go say hi to my old friends from college!” he exclaims, patting your shoulder. You immediately turn around to find Miya Atsumu cozying up with a beautiful girl in his arms.

Ah, that must’ve been the beautiful model with legs for days.

“You’re kind of staring.” comes a very familiar voice.

You want to roll your eyes but you decided against it, “I didn’t know you and Sugawara-san were close, Inunaki-san.” you greeted your annoying senior.

“Suga-san’s a friend to the whole team…” he grins, “Also, I’m just here to warn you that Osamu might be here later, he’s not as nice as Atsumu towards you.”

“You don’t have to remind me.”

“Come to think of it,” Shion Inunaki paused, tapping his chin in deep thought, “Atsumu still follows you around like a lost puppy. He’s been spending his off days with you instead of his girlfriend. I’m actually surprised he even brought her here today.”

“What are you implying?” You reply, feigning ignorance.

“Ah, L/N-san. I love how you still don’t care about my kohai’s feelings up till now.” He grinned, sarcasm oozing out of his sentence.

“Don’t be silly.” You glazed,“What feelings would there be but hatred?”

“It’s anything but that, L/N-san.” he turns to you, hand on his hip, “Even I don’t get why he’s so into you after all this time and the shit you put him through. He’s got someone better in front of him. Physical looks and emotionally speaking, Ri-chan’s a whole lot better than you… No offense…”

You knew he was rubbing salt to the injury but you couldn’t really bring yourself to argue with him, after all, he was right at the most part (you technically considered yourself as the big bad villainous ex in Atsumu’s life)

“You sound like those girls who used to threaten me back then when I was dating Miya-san.” You replied coolly, Inunaki even notices the amusement dripping in your tone, it's as if he hadn’t insulted you right at the face and called you a lesser being, “It’s almost pathetic.”

You ended up on the balcony right after, so much for trying to socialize, who were you kidding? It’s good you manage to escape the scene before Osamu could see you there, you couldn’t handle Inunaki and the grey-haired twin together. Thank god that Aran wasn’t around the area.

“Figured you’d be here.”

You turn to find the one and only source of all your problems these days, Miya Atsumu, you narrow your eyes in annoyance, “You should leave, people will get the wrong idea.” You simply replied, “I’m not in the mood to be in the middle of that.”

“I just came here because I wanted to apologize about that night with your brat.” the blonde casually leans against the doorway, “It was my fault for riling him up.”

“Yuuto has a temper, he’s more of his otosan than me.”

“What was he like?”

“Who?”

“The bastard that you miss, those brats father…”

You tilt your head and press your lips together, surprised by his choice of words, “Special.” you openly-confessed as you gaze at the very man in front of you. Oh, the irony of it all.

How you wish it was that easy to let go of all your fears and anxiety, if you had told him six years ago about your pregnancy, would your life probably be different? What if you told him now? How would he feel?

“He’s lucky,” he admits, gaze fixed on you, “I mean - other than the part that he died - he was a lucky guy, Y/N.”

It dawned upon you that moment that this had been the first conversation you had with your ex that held no hatred, malice, or anger. He seemed to be slowly accepting the fact that you wanted to do nothing with him. Like you, he had no choice but to move on.

“ ‘Tsumu! What the fuck you moping around alone for up there? You got a girlfriend here!” Osamu calls down from below. You both snap back to reality at his brother's voice, “Guess that’s my cue to leave, I’ll see you around, Y/N.” he uttered softly and as he turned away, you suddenly spoke out.

“I’m sorry.” He freezes in place, somehow this apology seemed different than the rest, “I know I’ve said that a lot these past few weeks and that night but I want you to know that every apology was genuine. I just, I’m not very-”

“I know.” He suddenly turns to you, the very familiar and warm grin that you're accustomed to decorates his features and you feel like its that night in fall and you're back in college again, “I guess I was so wrapped up in wanting to get an emotion out of you that I hadn’t realized, it’s not you if you did that. You always had trouble expressing yourself naturally to people after all.”

You feel your insides clamp and your lips tremble lightly, you feel the air turn heavy around you. How is that he was always the one pulling the strings and doing all the work between you two? How could he forgive you this easily?

“Don’t be silly.What feelings would there be but hatred?”

“It’s anything but that, L/N-san.”

“I’m proud that you’re trying hard for your kids though,” He chuckles, “Those brats are lucky they get to see all sides of you everyday.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight.” you muttered, watching his figure walk away and vanish in the dark, leaving you all alone in the night of spring.

“...I now pronounce you husband and wife…”

You stare at your father and his new wife looking at each other with complete love and adoration, something you never saw when you were growing up. It sickened you to the point that you turn slightly pale and feel the bile on your throat rise. You watch them exit the church as sakura petals fall, the idea of a picture perfect wedding and happily ever after like the fairytale books you used to scorn when you were a child.

You loathed it.

He even had the audacity to invite you and your mother. She ended up not going and was probably drowning herself in cheap saki at home.

You sat at the back during the reception, along with the people who were not exactly ‘close’ to the bride-groom. You feel like an utter fool, why were you even here? You should’ve gone home or attended that stupid party and get stupid drunk with people you barely knew like your mother.

Yeah, that’s right.

You’d rather be there than here.

“Ah,” you hear a glass clink, you saw one of your dad’s friends stand up, ready to make a speech, “First off, I’d like to congratulate my friend. Finally!” laughter resonates throughout the room but you don’t follow suit, instead, you hold onto the wine glass tightly as if you don’t like where this was going, “I know how unhappy you were back then but ever since you met Yui-chan, your life seemed to have become better. I could never be more proud!”

You could feel yourself getting sicker by the moment, especially after you heard the words you dreaded to hear the most, “Let’s not make anymore mistakes shall we?” he jokes.

All you could see was red right after, grabbing your clutch on the table as you made a haste exit. Was this the reason he invited you? To shove it on your face that you were a mistake made?

That you shouldn't have been born?

You ended up breaking a heel and tripping on your own feet soon after, shakily, you adjust your posture and sat at the concrete for a few moments, trying to gather yourself but desperately failing, "I didn't… I didn't ask to be born too, you know?" You murmured to yourself bitterly.

You let it all out, it shouldn't have hurt to be called a mistake. You were an adult already for crying out loud! Yet when they toss that word around like it was nothing especially at that wedding, you feel like you're eight years old again and you're hearing your own mother curse at you for being born into this world, the harsh words she said were as clear as the day, "if you probably hadn't been born, we would've been happier. We'd have better lives, Y/N. So don't go around and cry and think you got it bad, you hear me? Your sadness is nothing compared to ours. It's nothing, Y/N. So stop being ungrateful."

You ended up at the frat house that night, people would occasionally glance at your disheveled state but you just downed the alcohol, ignoring their stares as usual and when you get a text from your mother asking why you left the wedding so early in such a manner, you feel the pent-up emotions bubbling within you again.

Blocking her number and taking one last swig of the cheap vodka in your hands, you head up to one of the rooms upstairs. You hold it all in well, you don't want to showcase such things to strangers.You feel the alcohol and emotion about to hit you when you open a door that you thought would be your safe space for the next ten minutes but you're immediately greeted by two people on the bed, ready to hit it off and have a good time.

"O-Oh sorry… I-Wrong room...” you stammered, lips quivering and small tears escaping since you couldn't hold it in anymore.You immediately bolted out the door, So much for sobering up and crying by yourself for ten minutes, you might as well call Daiki, maybe he was available-

“Hey! Y/N!” a very familiar and a very unexpected voice calls out your name on the quiet street.

You hesitantly turn only to find your project partner and classmate standing there, a bit out of breath as if he had just squeezed through the very crowded party in a hurry, you're confused by his actions. You weren’t exactly close? What was he doing?

“Hey.” he softly says, taking out a handkerchief from his pocket to hand it to you. You hesitantly look at it and take it from his grasp as you try to get rid of the runny mascara. You're taken aback by his kind actions so far, although he had always been nice and tried to make conversations with you, you weren’t exactly very participative and it had always been one-sided on his part.

When he suddenly stopped talking to you recently, you didn’t bother to initiate anymore because you didn’t want to get more involved with people like him. It’s not like he was a bad person, per say, he just had such a loud presence that made everyone stop and stare. You weren’t exactly a big fan of those kinds of people (save for daiki since you grew up with him)

“Come on, Y/N.” the blonde sighs, taking off his jacket to place it on you, “Let's take you home.”

"You don't have to."

"You look like shit, Y/N. I’m not takin' no for an answer" Atsumu points out forwardly, "Actually, before we head home lets disinfect that wound, yeah?"

"Miya-san, I-" you tried to tell him you were fine but he didn’t seem to be having it.

"Atsumu." He corrects, despite his forwardness and brash attitude, you know he means well, "You let me call you by your first name so please don't call me Miya-san, sounds fuckin weird coming from ya."

You're thankful that he doesn't pry or ask questions about why you looked like this. He just mumbles throughout your whole journey that you shouldn't wear heels when you can't even walk on them.You also start to notice the slight accent from his tone when he got annoyed by your insistence that you were alright, you had always thought that he was a city boy with the way he carried himself.

When you arrive at the drugstore, he pays for the necessities himself despite you protesting again and even buys you a sugar-free treat on top of that, "You said you were diabetic one time." He shrugs off as he lets you sit on the concrete steps.

“Oh,” You faltered, “You remembered.”

“It’s one of the few things you said. You don’t talk to me that much so it's not hard to remember the things you say.”

“Sorry.” You tried to apologize, brows furrowed in deep thought and the only reply you got was a gleeful laughter from the blonde setter.

“You don’t really mean that do you?” he observed but he didn't look insulted by it at all, instead he seemed amused by it, “Don’t sweat it, Y/N. My twin told me I could be an annoying shit at times.”

“No,” you mused, “Not at all, you’re not annoying.”

Atsumu stares at you right in the eye, his corners crinkling just a bit as the amused smile never leaves his features, you’re starting to like it when you see him smile that way, it reminded you a lot of the youth you craved for, the problematic-free youth that you wanted and wished, “Is it safe to say that you don’t mind my company?” he guessed.

“Well, you’re here now and I haven’t left you.”

He doesn’t reply, instead he bends down to your level and takes the antiseptic and band-aids from your hands. Before you could object, the setter dabs it on your wound and as you seethe quietly in pain, he blows on it. You’re getting more and more perplexed by his actions tonight especially with the words he says next, “I may not be close with you to know what happened tonight but I hope I made you feel a little bit better, Y/N.”

The next time you see the professional volleyball player is at work,You’re tasked to send out some documents to your boss again and it just so happens they’re wrapping up the shoot for the advertisement at the studio.

Something’s different now.

After your little talk with him at the terrace, the air around you doesn’t feel tight, your anxiety around him seems to decrease, and your feet doesn’t get cold anymore. Of course, Inunaki would throw in a jab or insult but you took it like a good sport and didn’t bother with him.

“Ah, L/N-san! How are the boys?” Hinata jumps up and down excitedly as he sees you enter the studio, you still couldn’t get used to this big (small) bundle of energy.

“They’re doing fine, Hinata-san.”

“Oho, L/N-san, you’re looking better these days.” Inunaki teased, you gave him a brief nod and just ignored the jab, Atsumu slaps his seniors back in retaliation, “You’re not the one she broke up with Inu-san.” he joked, “Hey L/N-san.”

“Miya-san.” You greeted.

“Does Yuuto still want to skewer me like a kebab?”

“He feels sad that he wasn’t able to say sorry to you before you left.” You replied, a hint of amusement laced on your tone as you recalled Yuuto frowning on the dinner table the night before because Sugawara had informed the club members that Hinata and Atsumu wouldn’t be visiting as much because training was about to start.

“Shame, wanted to see that brat say sorry too.” He let out a grin, your conversation is cut short though when a new presence joins the room.

“Oh, Riku-chan!” Inunaki calls out.

You lick your dry lips as you see the very beautiful and tall raven-haired woman approach you, wow, Miya Atsumu outdid himself with this one. You recalled her being on Vogue magazine once and on tv a few times as a fashion model of an underwear brand.

“Oh, hey babe.” Atsumu greets, you note how stiff he became. He probably thought this would be an uncomfortable situation. The woman, unlike you, was very open with her affection. She gave him a brief kiss on his jaw.

Hinata greets her and you’re left wondering if you should excuse yourself before you could make Atsumu more uncomfortable by your presence but Inunaki, being an asshole, decides to make the choice for you, “L/N-san, this is Miyazaki Riku! I’m sure you know her, she’s a supermodel!” he introduces you to her.

“Good day.” You greet the model.

She tilts her head slightly, “Have we met before? You look very familiar.”

“She was my kohai back in Uni and Atsumu’s classmate!” Inunaki grins, patting your back, you hold back a glare since you didn’t want to make it more awkward than it was.

“Oh?” she chirped, immediately letting go of Atsumu’s hand, she grabbed onto yours, “What was he like? I bet he was so cool and chic back then too!”

Chic and Cool?

Memories of a rather clumsy and corny Miya Atsumu in college slowly wormed its way to your head and out of nowhere, you burst into a low chuckle. Inunaki was startled by the sudden reaction and Atsumu feels his insides mush up when he hears that very rare sound, “Yeah,” you croaked, shortly after recovering from your small laugh, “Definitely chic and cool.”

“That’s so cool! I definitely want to hear stories about you back in college, baby!”

“Maybe some other time,” you voice is back to its smooth and cool tone, realizing that you needed to leave from this uncomfortable conversation and start your job, “I have to finish up my work here and get home early.”

“That’s a shame, I could definitely tell you guys were close.” a frown tugs her lips as she notices how quick you were to say goodbye to her, “Bye, L/N-san!”

After that rather dry and one-sided enthusiastic conversation, you finish your work quickly and Daiki messages you just in time that he and the boys would pick you up, you say your goodbyes to your director, the staff, and the volleyball team. You don’t notice the lingering gaze of Atsumu as you left nor do you notice Inunaki telling him that he’s got his girlfriend right in front of him and he shouldn’t look your way.

They shortly wrap up right after and they’re ready to go home. After deciding that they’d all grab a good meal together (much to sakusa’s dismay), Atsumu feels his mood lighten up as they exit the studio to see you standing there along with Yuuto, unwrapping his onigiri. As he’s about to call the brat to talk to him and even drop in to say hi to you, he sees a familiar tall figure emerge from the convenience store with Youta in his arms.

The blonde decides against it.

“...You always had trouble expressing yourself naturally to people after all.”

He watches the interaction from afar and notes how easy it was for the man to interact with you, he even catches on an amused smirk from you as the man tries to tell you a joke, “Is that L/N-san?” he hears Riku ask, “I didn’t know she had a family, that’s so cute!”

Atsumu doesn’t really know what to say as he watches the domestic scene unfold in front of him, he was trying to move on, wasn’t he? Yet why can’t he look away?

“Baby? You alright there? You’ve been staring at the empty space for a while.” Riku calls out, sounding a bit worried as she snaps him out of his daze. You were already gone, probably far off with that scrub and the brats.

“I’m good.” he tried to affirm himself, wishing it was true, “I’m good.”

taglist [closed]

@fortheloveofiwaizumi ; @svtbitch ; @kiyoomile ; @lovedanii ; @juno-multifandom ; @gyubit17 ; @saeranoppa ; @nixxona ; @kyomihann @shorttstackk ; @intoomuchfandoms ; @yammmers ; @mx-minxx @itsmattsunshinehere ; @missingmystogan ; @volleybloop ; @imcravingyou ; @yams-wants-that-booty ; @liathachcapricious ; @pinknugget @seikamuzu ; @marigoldthoughts ; @sillykittt ; @baejinoffcl ; @alluring-akaashi ; @bnhasstuff ; @jungshookmeup ; @intheawks ; @bokuakadaily ; @agaassi ; @yams046 ; @dope-squish ; @chrisrue15 ; @vermillionwaves ;

@misosamu @Etherynaw @ryaaaax @differentballooncollection @keniloveshaikyuu @allysasteaparty [hi, i can’t seem to tag u guys, i think you need to open your tags uwu]

#haikyuu imagines #haikyu!! fanfics #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu angst #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu imagine #miya atsumu scenarios #miya atsumu fanfiction #atsumu x reader #atsumu imagines #miya atsumu

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thefinalcinderella · 3 years

Text

Kaze ga Tsuyoku Fuiteiru Chapter 8 - Winter Comes Again (Part 1)

Full list of translations here

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A team with only ten runners had passed the qualifiers and was now in the Hakone Ekiden.

This spectacular achievement accomplished by the residents of Chikusei-sou was widely talked about, not just by the university athletics world.

Since the Hakone Ekiden began being televised in 1987, there was hardly anyone who didn’t know the name of this event for student runners in the Kanto region. Whether it was due to the grueling nature of the race or the glamour and glitz that aired on New Year’s Day, the Hakone Ekiden never failed to attract attention.

Only ten people were taking on that famous competition. Why would they think of doing such a reckless thing? What would happen if someone got injured or sick on the day of the event? What kind of daily training regimen did they follow, and how did they live?

Curious locals and students who wished to join the team began to visit Chikusei-sou incessantly. Most of the students had no experience in track and field, but when they found out that the team had passed the qualifiers, many of them asked to join the team in a temporary rush of excitement.

Kiyose carefully wrote on a piece of paper that he would turn down all visits and stuck it on the door of Chikusei-sou. He appreciated them wanting to join, but the Kansei University boom would soon die down, they couldn’t enter without an official record, and Chikusei-sou was already full. After much deliberation, Kiyose decided that it would be better for the ten of them to concentrate on training and unite to compete in Hakone rather than take in any new members.

With regards to the locals, the shopkeepers of the shopping district told them to not get in the way of training and most of the locals were now content to just peek at Chikusei-sou from over the hedges. The exceptions were the old people who quietly supplied produce from their fields.

As Kakeru was leaving for his morning jog, he noticed napa cabbages and pears placed outside the door. Is this some kind of repayment? He thought. Nira, who had watched the old people’s actions without barking, only wagged his tail at him. In the end, without knowing who did it, the residents of Chikusei-sou filled their stomachs with the produce that was often left at their door.

Of course, requests for interviews flooded in from the media. Not just track and field magazines, but also weekly magazines, newspapers, and TV; every kind of media outlet they could think of had been trying to contact them. Kiyose and Shindou investigated them all carefully and refused almost all requests with “We want to concentrate on our training.”

However, they agreed to an interview with Monthly Track and Field’s Sanuki and Yomiuri Shimbun’s Nunoda, who had been supporting them since the summer training camp. The two understood the psychology of runners well, so they watched them train without interfering and briefly asked them the most pertinent questions. Favorable articles about the people of Chikusei-sou were then published in the respective mediums.

The twins and King were over the moon and insisted on accepting more interviews.

“We’re actually going to Hakone, you know? It’s better to be noticed,” Jouta said.

“It might even help with getting a job,” King said.

“Instead of thinking about that, you need to get more serious about training. Otherwise, your pathetic running will be televised all over the country, and you’ll get attention whether you like it or not.”

Even when Kiyose flatly rejected them, the twins and King didn’t give up.

“No? We wanna be on TV. TV, TV!” they yelled. Kakeru was astonished as he watched the offense and defense unfolding at the dinner table.

Just the thought of competing in the Hakone Ekiden was enough to make Kakeru nervous and elated. But on top of that, the twins wanted the “extraordinary” experience of being interviewed on TV. Were they too simple-minded, were they greedy, or were they just fearless?

Until that spring, the twins had lived without having any connection to long-distance running, so they might not have had a clear idea of the significance of the Hakone Ekiden.

The Hakone Ekiden, which began in 1920, took place every year with the exception of a few years during the war. Even amidst the food shortage after the war, the runners put on their sashes and aimed for the mountains of Hakone—that's how important it was as an event for runners, with more than eighty years of tradition.

The Hakone Ekiden was what student runners yearned and dreamed of; the twins might not have fully understood the meaning and value of participating in such an event. But even though they didn’t understand, they trained and had the ability to claim their place to take part in it, so they were no ordinary people. Kakeru was impressed and amused by this.

Between them, the twins continued their appeal with Kiyose, who was silently moving his chopsticks.

“Hey, hey, let’s go on TV at least once.”

“We can have that perk, at least. After all, Haiji-san, you’re…”

“What about me?” Kiyose's chopsticks stopped moving. Jouta and Jouji suddenly closed their mouths and squirmed like they wanted to say something, but finally shook their heads.

“Nothing.”

In the end, Kiyose gave in and they ended up accepting a TV interview: on the evening news, in a five-minute topic segment, the lives of the residents of Chikusei-sou were going to be introduced.

TV cameras came and filmed Prince’s room full of manga and Nico-chan’s room full of small quit-smoking dolls that were scattered around his futon that he never put away. They also filmed their training in the field and interviewed the members.

The twins and King took the lead in the interview. We don’t know if things just followed their course or if it was because we were threatened by Haiji-san, but we found ourselves aiming for Hakone. We eat lemons soaked in honey every day to avoid catching colds. We don’t do any special training. We believe we have the same kind of regimen as the track clubs in other universities.

Kakeru, as usual, stood meekly in the corner, just far enough away that he was partially cut off by the cameras.

“Why are you hiding, Kakeru?” Yuki asked.

But Kakeru only smiled vaguely and dodged the question with, “No, I'm not really.” Nico-chan, who was watching over the interview, looked back at him.

“You’re not gonna tell us that you’re a wanted fugitive, are you?”

“No, it’s nothing like that.”

That’d be cool, though, Nico-chan said and gave him a suspicious look.

“Putting that aside, there’s been a strange mood lately, don’t you think?” Yuki said. Nico-chan nodded, I guess so.

Kakeru had also noticed it; it had become somewhat strained within Chikusei-sou. The first-floor residents were the same as before, and most of the people living on the second floor were practicing with the same attitude as usual. The twins, however, seemed to be clearly depressed. To be frank, it was regarding Kiyose.

They didn’t argue with him or act defiant towards him. However, they tried to keep a subtle distance. Although Kiyose treated Jouta and Jouji as he always had, they couldn’t seem to be open with him for some reason. For some reason, their trust in Kiyose seemed to have faded.

This awkwardness spread through Chikusei-sou, and a somewhat uncomfortable atmosphere had persisted ever since the qualifiers ended.

“I wonder what’s going on,” Nico-chan said. “Kakeru, you’re in the same year as them—ask them casually.”

“What do I ask?”

“About what’s in their heart, of course.”

“Aah…yes.”

Although he answered with that, Kakeru honestly felt that it was a heavy burden.

Training was becoming more and more voluminous and dense. They slowly ran the first 5000 meters of the 12,000 meter run in 17 minutes, then increased the pace and ran the last 1000 meters at a pace of 3 minutes and 0.5 seconds. After that, they did five 1000 meter runs of 2 minutes and 55 seconds with a 200-meter interval in between.

Kakeru did his best to think about his own running. Was the swinging of his arms, the angle of his feet when he landed on the ground, the relaxing and tensing of his muscles okay like this? His consciousness stretched around every inch of his cells and he checked his running with every step.

Of course, he had to attend his university classes in between training sessions, but it was hard to have to pay attention to other people as well.

One time, he happened to be in the Tsuru no yu public baths with the twins. When the twins went to the washing area, Kakeru and Kiyose soaked in the bathtub with their backs to the painting of Mount Fuji, and conversed with the plasterer who happened to be there.

“How’s it going, Haiji? How are the Chikusei-sou guys?” the plasterer asked. He was sitting in the hot water with his back to the washing area, so he didn’t notice the twins. The twins, who would usually call out to them, saw Kiyose by the bathtub’s faucet and only slightly bowed without a word.

“They’re doing good,” Kiyose answered the plasterer.

“The first-years did pretty good.” The plasterer pulled his hands out of the water and rubbed his face. “Kakeru did great too, but look at those identical twins—they’re pretty fast too, aren’t they?”

Kakeru fretted over how Kiyose would answer. Behind the plasterer, Jouta and Jouji were straining their ears to listen. Perhaps because he was distracted by the conversation, Jouji lost control of his hands and spilled a large amount of shampoo on his head.

“They really are,” Kiyose smiled. “I can’t say it in front of the people themselves, but they run well.”

“Really?” Jouta stood up from his chair in the washing area, and the plasterer looked behind him with a start.

“What’s the point in lying?” Kiyose rose from the bathtub. “Sir, we’re raising promising runners, so please continue to support us from the shopping district. I will be taking my leave now.”

He walked past the twins’ backs, opened the sliding door of the baths and disappeared into the changing room.

“He only praised us ‘cause we were here,” Jouji muttered to no one in particular. But he couldn’t hide the fact that he was happy. He shampooed his head so vigorously that it was covered in dense bubbles in the blink of an eye.

“What’s with you guys? You didn’t even say hello.”

After the plasterer compared Kiyose’s and the twins’ words and actions, he turned to Kakeru, who was still in the bath. “Are they fighting by any chance?”

He was asked that in a whisper. “Well,” Kakeru sank up to his shoulders in the water. “I don’t think that’s the case.”

The twins might have been dissatisfied with Kiyose in some way, however they couldn’t hide it within themselves forever. If anything, he would say that it was because they had openhearted and naïve personalities; he was sure that they would let their emotions erupt at the earliest opportunity and directly vent them to Kiyose. It wasn’t too late to try and solve the problem.

Kakeru decided to leave the twins alone. He shouldn’t intentionally nudge a dormant volcano; when an eruption occurred, they would naturally discover where the crater is. After carefully assessing the location and wind direction, they could take shelter and wait for the overflowing lava to cool. That was what he thought.

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#Kaze ga tsuyoku fuiteiru #kazetsuyo #kazetsuyo translations #run with the wind

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digitalvoidheart · 3 years

Text

A Pixelated New Moon

This is a random idea I came up when extremely down in the dumps and also wanted to try writing angst for the first time... (also new moon is a moon completely shadowed soit's basically something in the oneshot)

Also, this is a random au I made up where everyone's life is in a multiplayer game. I know not very original but pls enjoy!

Players/Characters:

♠ Moon (passive nightmare)

♠Nightmare (corrupted nm and a separate being)

♠Horror

♠Killer

♠Dust

♠Cross

Moon knew his team was unstoppable and was proud of it.

Horror, even with that cracked skull from a false 1v1 (his opponent had an accomplice hidden for a sneak attack, Horror came out victorious eventually), his agility is unaffected and he can pack a punch with his attacks.

He may say that he lacks in the defense department but when it comes to combat, he usually attacks when the team is surrounded, creating a soundwave-like attack with his bone weapon constructs, giving him the title of the team's main offence.

Next comes Dust. He's a mysterious one if Moon had to be honest. Not only did he refuse to narrate his backstory or history of his previous teams, but his level on all skills seemed to be on par. No one knows what he specializes in wether it is defense, healing or combat because he has activated his hidden card. A special item which hides the stats of the player. An expensive item but with the high level he's in, it's possible for him to own one.

He could protect the team in one second, heal Horror the next and attacking side by side with Nightmare on the next, all mid battle. Moon found it very impressive.

Another dangerous member is Killer. He may not have the same knockout attacks as Horror, nor the magic abilities like Dust, but he makes up the team by his traitorous speed. His slump posture may make it seem he's lazy but he's far from that.

He could land a good amount of slashes onto his opponent in the least amount of time, immobilizing them temporarily sometimes. He doesn't fear much, proven by the wide cocky grin plastered on at all times and the fact that he chooses close range attacks while his target shaped SOUL was always within the enemy's grasp? Deliciously terrifying.

Lastly, Nightmare. The leader of the team, one who plans ahead, always knowing way the opponents are thinking. He has the highest level compared to everyone under his wing, the aforementioned trio having a small reduction to reach his level, and Moon a LARGE one.

He didn't even know why he was needed in the team. Horror's attack, Dust's magic and Killer's speed made up the perfect balance of a team. His constant request for why they need him always went unanswered by Night. He can't even leave without Nightmare's consent, that being the rules of the life-or-death game they play. Any player who wishes to leave their team has to have their removal granted by the team leader. His permission for leaving went deaf as his questions.

The trio always had their answers on them for him, albeit it's a little untrue.

"Need ya for...shieldin' me. Got low defense, r'member?" You don't need me. You've got Dust.

Dust's minute responses were similar "You're useful..." No Dust, I'm just a burden. You don't need to heal me midbattle either. Use it for Nightmare or Horror instead.

"Pretty sure 'cuz you hold up a shield better than any of us" Funny, Killer. And I'm at least another 25 levels below you guys...

He's pretty sure no one knows of his secret to try up his levels, so that's out of the options. Everyone has their share of G, albeit higher than his for earning more EXP than him for being on the offense. So why do they want him if it isn't money or battle?

His answers come to him when they enter the next quest. The blue screen appearing before each of them reading :

Welcome to level XX!

Here, you will be separated into two groups. Team one with any number of players will be challenged with X number of quests through the white gate while team two with one player will pass through the abyss through the black gate.

Choose wisely!

Oh... A sacrifice.

"I'll go" Moon smiled even when the heavy words sent a metaphorical spear to his SOUL. He can do this. It's for the team. He might not know what the quest in the abyss is but no one's returned once entering the abyss r-right? They needed him so they could pass this level. So why did it hurt to line the facts together?

"No." Nightmare deadpanned, his decision locked with no room for argument. "We'll rest up at the checkpoint and discuss who to go where tomorrow."

What? I-I'm not th- a sacrifice?

Moon's voice failed him from the assertiveness of his leader. And like that, he was lead to the previous checkpoint where they discussed at the inn for whom to go, and honestly? Moon wasn't listening at all.

This could be his chance to detach his leeching body from their assets and give them a higher chance of success! Maybe they can even find a better player with a higher level than himself to benefit the guys more. But why do they need to discuss who to go when the answer was right in front of them?

While Nightmare and the others planned for who to go, Moon made his own plan to carry out during their slumber. As the moment arrived at midnight, he slipped out to carry a few errands quests the inn offered for G and his own personal plans.

He won't let their efforts go to waste. Not when he was around.

***

The next day, the team of five made their way back to gates of the next level.

Moon spared a glance at Nightmare to see him nod at the trio. As one of them stepped closer to the black portal. It was Killer. A valuable and speedy asset to the team.

Moon let out a sigh and exhaled his message to them.

"I'm sorry"

Killer was pulled away with blue magic as his purple cloaked companion whisked past his fallen figure and into the abyss. The portal closed before any of them had time to figure out what had happened.

---

The rumours were false. The Abyss wasn't heavy. Sure, it was dark but you could still see yourself in a white outline only. And apparently, he wasn't the only one.

He watched as players teleport into the Void, some calm, others screaming and shouting for someone (probably they were betrayed by their own team) before they all are faced with a monochromatic screen. Upon his distraction, he didn't notice the exact replica of the screen in front of him as well.

Welcome to the abyss!

This is a test of patience and trust for your team. You will watch as your team completes their quests and at the end, choose your fate

It didn't say much but the pixelated screen then glitched, showing a live view of his team. They look upset and unhappy, except Nightmare.

He looked furious. If he wasn't mad with Moon before, he was now. Maybe he might allow him to leave the team. That is if he can leave the abyss in the first place.

Looking back, he noticed the distraught player a small distance away from him as they tapped on their screen.

He watched, wide-eyed as they disintegrated into pixels. Like monster dust. Death...

Although, he was quickly distracted by another monster watching through his screen.

A skeleton monster they were. The same outline white around him didn't tell the colours the monster possessed but his right eye light and lightning-bolt scar on his right cheek were red. Does that mean eyelights remain their colour?

Getting a response from the new guy was difficult. He refused to speak.

After multiple attempts Moon sighed "Could I get your name at least?" More silence from the skeleton and Moon gave up.

"It's Cross"

His head shot back at the red eyed skeleton. Before he decided to shut up himself and watch his team.

He turned in time to see Horror summon a shield himself to protect Dust from an attack. So it was a fluke. The incapability to defend himself...

"I knew it..." he said to no one but Cross turned to his direction from the screen. "They really didn't need me. It was all a lie..." tears welled up in his sockets, blurring the view of his team effectively.

"B-but why did they wanna keep me if i wasnt for a sacrifice?" He croaked. He watched as Nighmare and the guys cleared the stage in a blur.

Another thing he was. A deadweight.

Completely forgetting that he was crying near a complete stranger, he swiftly wiped his tears and residual magic from his face. He pulled up his cloak's cowl only to hear Cross speak once more.

"You're their anchor." Moon turned to Cross.

"W-what?" What did he mean by anchor?

"Having high levels means you are more likely to loose control of your mind, resulting in messes you never intended on happening. "

Eyes never leaving the team, he continued, "You were basically kept so that they have a distraction from overdoing things. Like that grey hooded guy," he pointed at Dust "he seems to keep healing the guy with a cracked skull mid battle to avoid losing his sanity from his bottomless well of magic"

Moon looked at Dust, then averted his gaze to his feet in shame.

Cross explained how the others may have benefited from him and Moon took it all in.

And even if it seemed like minutes, Moon felt like he'd been talking with him for hours and have been friends for longer.

He didn't want to leave Cross. He could take him with and show him to the team. Maybe they will accept him and-

Ping!

Moon looked up to see hi- Nightmare's team has passed through all quests and now are waiting in front of a transporter. The screen glitched once, twice before turning back to the message screen. This time, it displayed a volume symbol and a female voice spoke.

"Player Moon, your team has successfully passed through level XX. You have an option to go back to your team which costs 78000 G, or stay in the void till you disintegrate. Choose wisely on what will benefit your team."

W-what? Already? He can go back! He has enough G for three tickets from scraping all the G from his secret task job in checkpoints! He can redeem himself, apologise to Nightmare and-

"Congratulations" Cross' voice pierced through his thoughts. He was smiling, but Moon knew better.

"Come with me" he demanded.

"That's against the rules, little Moon" Cross countered. He looked over Moon's shoulder at the screen, which had apparently heard him, giving a robotic 'affirmative'. "Besides, I don't have a team to go back to nor the G to buy myself out"

Moon's eyelights began wavering as he paced. Looking at his options, he only had three.

He took deep breaths to calm himself from the edge of panic. Opening his eyes, he looked at Cross.

He was hiding sadness behind a stoic mask, wanting to be strong with Moon returning safe to his team. It crushed his Soul to know that the determination in it was slowly burning out to a flickering flame.

Cross' stats were a considerably good amount, higher than Moon's obviously. His understanding and calm during a panicked situation is admirable.

But if only one of them can leave...

Who should?

☆********☆

I'll do 3 endings after my exams so look forward to it!

Btw to all angst writers... HOW TF DO YOU DO IT WITHOUT HAVING TO BE SAD?!!! I was only able to write this cuz I was sad. :(

#Void writes #digitalvoidheart #Moon #Nightmare #Killer #Cross #Horror #Dust #Game au #Tw depression #First time writing angst #Tell me how it is #C y'all after exams

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joon-ipersgirl · 3 years

Text

O7 - “the promising proposition”

genre: mafia!au, angst, fluff, slow burn, mystery-thriller

pairing: namjoon x reader (f)

word count: 5.1k

warnings: cursing (if i miss any, let me know!)

summary: charismatic. beautiful. fearless without question. the ambitious team of seven young men in charge of spiral, downtown district’s hottest new club go above and beyond to provide 100% satisfaction to their clients.

after an eventful night out, you have no choice but to join the team for property damages greater than your intern salary. challenging a series of events that can no longer be left to coincidence, secrets threaten to burst at the seams as your professional and private life collide, and another - more sinister - debt is added to your total.

how far are you willing to go to pay back your pound of flesh? remember, nothing is ever as it seems...

a/n: it’s been a minute but we’re back! winter break is here and i’m determined to write so here’s part 7 as i still work on my tae halloween fic (whew) and some more holiday related scenarios/oneshots. thank you all for being so patient and i hope you enjoy this next part. i only have one more pre-written part for this story so updates may be even slower lol. as always, send your reactions as they make me super happy lmao. thank you vi for beta-reading this and enjoy everyone!

full masterlist // series masterlist // previous // next

The four of you sit in Manager Kim’s office, tense. Well, three as Paul had ruined his chances during last week’s meeting but you know he can feel the heaviness in the air as you wait for Madeline’s decision. She sits comfortably behind her large desk after calling you in to tell you who’d be assisting her on the Cavallero project. Her large, black fedora is propped on her head at a dangerous angle as she has her feet kicked up on her desk, her signature steel toed boots accentuating her full black outfit. You’d spent the previous days in the breakroom trying to figure out what made this project a higher priority than the rest of the contracts you’d acquired and who would be the lucky winner.

“Lovely of you all to join me, though Paul you were not really needed.” He tries his best to hide behind Laura from Manager Kim’s disappointed stare, but to no avail. “I know you all have been eagerly anticipating which one of you lucky interns will have the privilege of working with me on the first part of the Cavallero contract. You’ll find out shortly as his assistant will be dropping off the final notes on what he expects to see at the event; I’ll send one of you down to fetch him. We’ll have a brief meeting afterwards and then get to work. The rest of you will work under that person, following their orders diligently. Now, I need updates on the rest of our projects. Where are we?”

You barely listen as James rattles off what he was able to accomplish with the Emmerson’s engagement party. You think his design is doable, chic for an event planned in spring, but lacking in some of the finer details you know the future Mrs. Emmerson would appreciate; she’s a woman after your own heart with her love for champagne, meals created by chefs with Michelin stars, and exquisite fine china. Of course Madeline would pit you against each other for this job though. Not that you mind, you’re more than capable of fighting for what you believe is mine. It’s just less work when it’s given to you nicely packaged. Like the gifts you’re sure future Mrs. Emmerson would like to receive from her future husband’s wealthy friends.

“Y/N?” You focus back on Manager Kim who’s waiting expectantly, her glasses slipping down her nose. “The Williams’? What’s going on there? Or have you not made any progress?”

“The Williams have signed off on the zoo theme for their son,” James interjets before you can gather your thoughts. “We’re looking into finding the best face painters in the city and we’ve almost secured a catering contract for the 150 vegan cupcakes Mrs. Williams ordered. The invitations are currently being designed based on the chosen theme and will be ready for client approval next week.”

“Very good, James. Please send me a copy of your notes to be added into the file. Y/N, I expect better from you. That’s everything I have for today. You’re all dismissed,” she finishes with a wave of her hand, her glasses sliding down her nose once again as she searches for one particular document on her desk.

You don’t wait for the rest of them to follow as you make your way back to the tiny cubicle-like room you share. Manager Kim normally never calls you out in front of the rest of them and you’re fuming. Tossing down your legal pad, you whirl around as the three of them enter the room.

“What the fuck, James?!” you hiss as he calmly sits behind his desk and resumes typing on his computer.

“Looks like the Princess is upset,” Paul stage-whispers to Laura as he too sits down. You ignore him. He’s just as irrelevant beforehand as he is now.

“What do you need, Y/N? I have to send the notes from the meeting to Manager Kim,” James responds, not looking up at you. Your face further sours.

“You read my fucking files?! That wasn’t your event to handle and you know that!” you yell.

“Well, you took too long to respond -”

“I had barely opened my mouth -”

“- and Manager Kim needed a response, so I responded,” he finishes, ignoring your outburst.

“Y/N, please calm down. We don’t want to make a scene,” Laura pleads.

“Calm down? Laura, he made me look incompetent,” you argue.

“But you are, Y/N.” You pause and turn to James once again. Disbelief is written across your face as you stare each other down. You were the imcompetent one? “You should be ready to answer any question about any event J&M has going on whether it’s your’s or someone else’s. It’s not my fault that you were never taught the basics of efficiency in a company. The job has to get done and I completed the task. Simple,” he finishes. His incessant typing is all you hear as you stare at him. James had never been this bold before. Especially not with you.

“Watch your mouth, James,” you tell him coolly.

“Furthermore, your failure in that meeting shows that you’re incapable of handling bigger projects. I mean, you couldn’t recall the most straightforward details of a birthday party for a six-year-old child. Why should Manager Kim trust you to work on the coveted Cavallero contract? You’ve given her no reason to. All you’ve done is eliminated yourself from the running, effectively leaving Laura and I. Which is no challenge because - no offense Laura - you’re not really competition. I just hope you guys can maange when my hands are full with this project.”

You laugh as Laura cowers. You weren’t sure whether it was from the sound or James’ particularly harsh words, but the atmosphere in the room was much worse than in the meeting. Biting back the words you really wanted to tell him, you heed Laura’s advice and decide to not cause a scene. This is a professional establishment and you need this job. There are goals you want to accomplish and you wouldn’t let a slimy bastard like James Carter distract you. He’d finally shown his true colors - what he really thought of you - and you’re only grateful the others had been around to witness it.

“Alright, James. It seems like you’ve been holding back on us. Just remember: a word once let out of a cage cannot be whistled back again,” you tell him as you resume your duties at your desk. Flipping open a new page of your legal pad, you write neatly at the top: Emmerson Engagement. If James thought he had bested you, he had another thing coming.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Laura asks as she joins you in the staff room for lunch.

“Never better,” you reply, sipping on your iced coffee as you warm your leftover lasagna in the microwave. Gods bless your sweet, sweet roommate.

“What James said to you this morning was pretty harsh,” she says as she makes herself a steaming cup of green tea. Always the health conscious one that girl.

“James seems to be tired of our shit,” you chuckle. “I’ve heard worse though, Laura. Don’t worry about me. He said some pretty harsh things about you, too.”

She nods. “I didn’t think he could be so mean! And counting me out?! I worked really hard on my designs!” Laura’s voice doesn’t sound too sure, but you nod in agreeance.

“Your bridal party design last spring was very well done,” you tell her around a mouthful of lasagna.

“Exactly!” she says in a huff as she plops down across from you, nearly burning herself in the process. “And your event was really good too! The one you did a few months ago,” she trails off. You laugh.

“Which one was that?”

“You know, the one for the family with that really fancy theme? And lots of people came...”

“Oh, the Winter Wonderland scene on the ice rink?”

“Yes, that one!” she exclaims.

“That was Marie’s project before she got transferred to Jenson’s team,” you say with a laugh. Laura almost chokes on her tea as you wipe your mouth clean. “No need for you to try and make me feel better by pretending to remember something I’ve worked on. I’m honestly fine,” you chuckle again.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry -”

“Y/N?” James stands in the doorway looking quite displeased. You raise your eyebrows at him in response. “Manager Kim would like to see you in her office. Please make it quick as I’m going to get Mr. Cavallero’s assistant soon.” You laugh loudly.

“Of course, James. I’ll be sure to let Manager Kim know you’d like her to rush her meeting for your convenience.”

He scowls as you brush past him, your half-eaten lunch and coffee in hand. Mercury must be in retrograde for James to think that he can make demands of you any type of way. It seems that you need to put him back in his place; he’d gotten too comfortable with the little office jokes you all shared. Grabbing your legal pad and pen, you smooth down the little flyaway hairs and your white button down shirt; you couldn’t receive another lashing looking unkempt. Knocking on the door, you wait for Manager Kim to answer before you enter.

“You asked to see me, Manager Kim?”

“Yes. Please take a seat, Y/N. I’ll be with you in a second,” she replies as she finishes typing on her computer. You sit gingerly in the unoccupied chair as you’d done this morning and wait for her to rip into you. “Right. Let’s get to it. What was that this morning?” You inhale deeply.

“Honestly, I was thinking about James’ event and mentally noting changes I would make as possible suggestions to him when you called on me. I wasn’t dozing off because I was bored,” you answer.

“Hmm. And what changes would you have made?” she asks curiously as she gives you her undivided attention.

“Well, the future Mrs. Emmerson is a woman of prestige. Class. While roses are a classic choice, white tulips are pre-on-trend and I think she would enjoy being a part of that group. He also chose the Dom Perignon champagne, but I thought Veuve Clicquot would be the better option. High price doesn’t always mean high flavor. I do agree with his choice of venue though. The high ceilings will look great in the low afternoon light and the white lights in the evening will make for great photos,” I finished. “But of course, the client is always right and if this is her chosen design, we’ll go with that.”

Manager Kim stares at you until you start to feel slightly uncomfortable under her gaze. You know you hadn’t overstepped and she had asked for your honest opinion, but when sitting in front of one of the best event designers in the game, second guessing yourself is inevitable.

“You didn’t think to say anything earlier in the meeting?” she asks.

“I wasn’t aware that giving opinions on other people’s events was ideal during a regular updates meeting.”

“You should speak up more. Your ideas aren’t as bad as you think they are,” Madeline says as she leans back in her chair. “How else do you expect to lead any major project?”

Just as you’re going to respond, a knock sounds at the door. “Come in!” Manager Kim yells.

“Should I leave? James did say he was going to collect Mr. Cavallero’s assistant,” you trail off, getting ready to stand.

“No. No, you’re fine,” she says with a wave of her hand. “Ah, Mr. Carlisle - oh! And Mr. Cavallero! What a surprise! I didn’t know you would be joining us,” Manager Kim says as she stands and you follow suit.

“I happened to have some free time and decided to tag along as Lewis was dropping off the notes. I hope you don’t mind. I thought it would be helpful to have me here in case you had any questions that needed direct attention,” Mr. Cavallero responds. “And please, call me Jonas.”

Mr. Cavallero, or Jonas as he would like to be referred to, is dressed in his typical big spender suit: a deep navy blue suit with a pristine white buttoned-down shirt and pre-released Versace patent leather monk strap shoes. His aura fills the entire space, though he only stands in the doorway of Madeline’s office. You can practically feel the gel between your fingers as you look at his salt-and-pepper slicked back hair; the sheen is almost as bright as his shoes.

“And Miss Y/L/N, yes? What a pleasure to see you again. Will you be sitting in on this meeting as well? Lewis could only sing your praises after you left,” he asks. You struggle to keep your face neutral as James’ searing gaze washes over you. You know Manager Kim’s ears must be red as her secretive meeting is foiled by her best client.

“Actually, I was just -”

“- going to bring the file for the event as you were previously suggesting. Right, Y/N?” Manager Kim says as she turns to you with a stiff smile. “You are our chosen intern, afterall.” You can barely contain your gasp as she says the words. You had gotten the contract?! James does not try to hide his shock at her statement as his eyes widen and his mouth nearly falls open.

“It’ll be a pleasure working with you again, Miss Y/L/N,” Mr. Carlisle says with a smile.

“Of course,” you reply with a deep head nod. “I look forward to working with you both as well. I’ll be back with your file shortly.”

“Thank you, Y/N. And thank you James for going to get them. You may leave now,” Manager Kim adds as she turns her attention back to her guests, inviting them to sit and make themselves comfortable.

You walk calmly, though you feel anything but that, across the room as James holds the door open for you. Pleading with the gods to be on your side, you race ahead of him to the breakroom for fresh, new bottles of water - a sight to see in a knee length pencil skirt and the infamous 4-inch stilettos that are apparently still required in this day and age. Your office is filled with hushed whispers until you round the corner and enter the small room.

“You got the Cavallero project?!” Paul exclaims. “Holy shit! You’re better than I thought, Y/N!” You laugh as you search your desk for the copy of the previous plans you’d developed from that day’s secret meeting.

“Congratulations, Y/N!” Laura cheers, bouncing up and down. “Your first real major project. Isn’t that exciting, James?”

“Sure. If you can be happy for someone who fucked her way to get the position,” he says biterrly. “Lewis could only sing your praises after you left?” James scoffs. “Sounds like you worked really hard in that meeting.”

“James!” Laura gasps.

“Oh it’s fine, Laura. If you think that James, I can’t stop you,” you say with a shrug. “But I’ll be happy to discuss my scandalous sex life with you after I meet with our coveted client.”

You prance out of the office with a smug smile on your face. Of course James would resort to a low blow because he didn’t get what he wanted; he was worse than the six-year-old child he had reprimanded you about. Tucking the fake file under your arm as the real one is still in Madeline’s office, you carry the bottles of water back to the meeting. After passing the bottles to your clients, you stand diligently behind Manager Kim with your notepad at the ready.

“Please Miss Y/L/N, take my seat,” Jonas says, standing.

“Oh no, I couldn’t.”

“I insist. I do my best thinking standing up.”

“He does this often in his office,” Lewis agrees. Glancing at Manager Kim, you gingerly sit down on the end of the chair after thanking Jonas again.

“You had mentioned that you enjoyed the designs Y/N had developed, but as you know these are drafts and can be changed as you deem fit, Mr. Cavallero. Are there any things that come to mind or can we work on finalizing these details?” Madeline asks. You watch as Jonas strides around the office, seemingly in thought.

“You proposed hosting the event at one of the upscale hotels downtown, but I was wondering if you had any other options. We want the environment to feel lavish, but not over the top,” he replies. “I was actually thinking of something -” he pauses “ - more intimate.”

Writing down his wishes, you rack your brain for places that fit his description. Most clients of his caliber wanted something extravagant, but Jonas was proving to be a very different man. Quite the surprise that you were not expecting. “Would you like something with more modern architecture or classical?” you ask.

“I have always been a fan of French architecture; the European style also seems to be popular among our own clients. Most of them come from European backgrounds,” Jonas answers.

“They might find the interior design reminiscent,” Madeline thinks aloud and jots it down.

“It could be very good for signing contracts, sir,” Lewis adds.

“I may have a suggestion. Chateau’s is a little outside of the city, but the view is magnificent. It’s family owned so that may benefit you with your clients as well. It also has a rooftop that would look great in the afternoon sun as well as the late evening should the event last longer than expected,” you suggest. “I’ve also read great reviews saying that the food is well prepared too.”

“This could lower your costs for your first event and more money can be reserved for the benefit gala you’re also organizing,” Madeline sneaks in. She’s right, of course. A benefit gala planned by Madeline Kim would require much more than what Mr. Cavallero had said he was okay with spending, but he didn’t need to know that right now.

“Hmm,” he ponders turning around. “This sounds doable. I’d like to see what you can come up with for designs for this new place as well as scheduling a visit to see it for myself. All of this can be done before the initial deadline of securing a venue, yes?”

“Absolutely,” Madeline responds and you keep your composure as you review your mental calendar of events knowing this would be difficult to pull off. Brunch is scheduled a month and a half from today’s date meaning you had to somehow convince Chateau’s to take on your client, create an acceptable menu, and allow you to make any decorating changes within two weeks to make the deadline. Madeline is batshit crazy, but it would have to get done to secure the benefit gala - the whole reason for the company even accepting this contract.

“I can have all the details typed and sent to you within the next week. I’ll also keep the downtown hotel as an option if Chateau's is unavailable for your intended date. I’m sure we can use the rooftop of a hotel to create an intimate setting that your guests would enjoy,” you add. “I would also like to request the location of the benefit gala. I understand this is a very important event for your law firm and I would like to begin drafting plans for your approval at the earliest convenience.”

“Yes, of course. We use the Finca Corte as they have the best grand ballroom in the city. Lewis, please send Miss Y/L/N the past itineraries of the event so she may have a better understanding of the atmosphere we wish to create for our guests.” Lewis nods and makes his own notes, before his wrist watch alarms.

“Ah, Mr. Cavallero. Your 4pm meeting is on time this afternoon. We should leave now so you aren’t late,” Lewis warns. Jonas nods and you all stood to say your goodbyes.

“Please, if you need anything, reach out to Lewis and he’ll get in contact with me so I can answer any of your questions,” Jonas says with a smile as he shakes your hands.

“Of course, Mr. Cavallero. Please feel free to do the same,” Madeline replies though you can hear the tightness in her voice and for the third time, you wonder what her relationship is with Jonas. They had to have had some history for her to always seem on edge in his presence.

“Let me walk you both downstairs,” you offer. J&M isn’t as large as Hastings and Lewis, but there are many twists and turns on each floor that guests could get lost in.

You don’t turn your head as you pass your tiny office space and head for the elevator. You wouldn’t give any of those fuckers your attention in the presence of high quality clientele. It’s cramped inside but not uncomfortable as you ride down from the fourth floor. Jonas turns to you once again as you stand in the lobby.

“Again Miss Y/L/N, if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask. Lewis would be happy to answer any of your questions if you can’t get in contact with me,” he says and hands you his business card.

“I actually did have one question before you go. Well two actually. Finca Corte - it isn’t a chain, is it? Just one location?”

“Right. On 17th and Main near the Grande Theatre, but the next block over,” Jonas replies.

“And there’s no need to call and reserve the date? The notes Lewis had given us hadn’t mentioned anything about the date or a deposit,” you state.

“No, the firm takes care of those details. The benefit gala is always reserved for the third Saturday in May every year,” Lewis responds. Three months from now, you think.

“Oh, wonderful. I know you have to get going so I’ll email you any other questions, Lewis. Thank you again. Please return to the firm safely,” you say cheerly and wave. They return it and you wait for them to get into their sleek town car before you let your face fall into a frown. You’d never been to or heard of Finca Corte before, but why did the location seem so familiar? You try not to dwell on it too much as you head back upstairs. There are more pressing matters at hand, like putting James back into the roach-infested place he’d crawled out of. You grin as you head off the elevator.

Rosalia greets you as you enter the old two-bedroom apartment you share. Slipping off your heels that you’re sure has blood crusted into the toes from excessive wear, you scratch behind her ears as she purrs. She’s one of the better things to happen to you in your life and you’re grateful for her little pieces of affection even though you’re positive she had made some attempts to smother you in your sleep so she could have your bed.

“You’re home?” Amaya calls out from her hidden position on the couch.

“Yeah! Did you make dinner?” you ask as you follow your nose to the kitchen where a large pot stews on the stove.

“Of course I did. We all know you’d starve if I didn’t cook,” she says as she bumps you out of the way to check on the food. You mock her as you sit down at the antique metal table that you rarely ate at, choosing to have your meals in the much more comfortable living room on the sofa.

“I could survive!” you yell, trying to defend yourself, but Amaya isn’t having it.

“You couldn’t. Was the lasagna okay today, though?” she asks, changing the subject.

“The best. You should really consider opening a restaurant and forgetting all this computer engineer stuff,” you tell her seriously.

“Ha! As if that would pay off these loans. Either way, this is an investment. Once I’m done with this degree, I’ll be able to program computers to make these dishes for me and rake in a ton of money to get us out of this place,” she says with determination.

Amaya is a third year computer engineering student at Oberman University. Surprisingly smaller than you, she carries as much kick as you do, the two of you getting into numerous instances of mild misdemeanors. Amaya had actually hacked a few systems after she had found out that you weren’t really registered for classes at the University so you could get some credit; she’s a computer genius. Thanks to her, you technically have an Associates degree, but of course Oberman would never grant it to you unless you actually re-enroll. Amaya doesn’t take anyone’s shit though she looks like she’s 12 with her big green eyes and short blunt bob, the bangs a little too long and falling into her eyes.

“Thank you for including me in your plans for world domination, Aya,” you say while taking your hair out of your bun.

“Of course. You know you’re family to me, even though you leave your fucking dishes in the sink,” she replies while placing a piping bowl of beef stew and white rice in front of you. You thank the gods for her as you tuck in, burning your tongue in the process.

“I love you. So, so, so much.”

“Are you talking to me or the stew?” she asks with a laugh as she blows her food to cool it down. You laugh in response. “How was work? Oh my gosh, did you get the project?!”

You grin and nod. “I did!” She squeals in delight and claps her hands. “Though James was extremely displeased. He actually called me incompetent -”

“Hold on. He called you incompetent? Has he seen his progress report? And wasn’t he the one that forgot to submit his file that made that whole project you did a few months ago late?”

“Right. He was so shocked when Madeline announced it was me, even insinuated that I fucked my way to get the position. Kim was heated that Jonas mentioned our meeting while he was in the room though because it was supposed to be a secret,” you explain.

“Of course he would say something like that.” She rolls her eyes. “There seem to be a lot of secrets happening around you. Speaking of which, when do you head back to Spiral to snoop?” Amaya asks. “Do you think you can find anything in the hallway? Maybe you should break into Suga’s office or something,” she suggests.

“Friday night and I don’t think Suga would leave anything lying around like that for me to see again, not after I’m pretty sure he caught me reading his papers a few weeks ago,” you reply, pushing the rice around the plate. That had been extremely careless and might have killed a lead to your mini investigation before it had even begun.

“The one with all that information right? Gosh, I wish you had my photographic brain, that way you could have written down what you had seen and we could solve this whole mystery,” she groans.

“Oh no, Aya. I don’t want you getting involved with this. It seems way too dangerous and you -”

“- have my whole life ahead of me. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. But I want to know where this guy went. Like what if he’s still out there and looking for you?” she questions.

“I know, I know. I don’t want you worrying about it though. I can handle it,” you promise. “I feel like I’ve seen the address before though, but I can’t figure out where.” You rub your forehead as if you could magically make the numbers appear in your mind again. Aya’s photographic memory really would have come in handy.

“What about the date?” Amaya asks. “Or the name? You said the name was weird, unusual.” You nod. What had it said?

“There was a date, a location, and a name with an amount of money. Like a contract or something,” you sigh. “It looked really similar to the ones we have at work. Fuck. I don’t know. Between this and planning the benefit gala, my brain feels like it’s going to explode.” Amaya laughs as she finishes her dinner.

“Please don’t hurt yourself. It’ll come to you,” she says, giving your shoulder a squeeze. “Well, I have Calc 3 homework to finish and these theorems won’t do themselves so I’ll see you in the morning. Wash your fucking plate,” she finishes and pointes her finger at you. You hold up your hands in surrender as she leaves hers in the sink for you to clean. It’s the least you can do as she made all your meals.

Grabbing your purse and lugging it behind you after washing the dishes, you head to your room, Rosalia following in tow. Surprisingly, your bed is still intact which means that Amaya had made sure Rosalia hadn’t gotten into your room. Bless her. Not that there was much to get into as you the minimum possessions a person could have: a bed, a few photos, and enough clothes to last you a few weeks without doing laundry. You place your files and notepads onto your bed, eager to go and take a shower before organizing your notes in preparation for the debrief you would no doubt have to give to the rest of your colleagues tomorrow.

“Was your day as long as mine, Rosalia?” You scratch her head as she hops up on your bed and makes herself at home between your papers, a few of them scattering to the floor. “Apparently not as you want to make mine even longer,” you murmur as you bend to pick up the loose sheets of today’s meeting notes from the Cavallero project. You pause.

Jonas. That was the name that was on top of the paper in Suga’s office. What would be the odds that the Jonas on the paper would be the Jonas Cavallero you were working for? If that Jonas was the same Jonas, then was the location on the paper one of the events you were working on? How would Suga have that information? You sit against the side of your bed. Unless -

Yanking your phone out your purse’s side pocket, you google “Hastings & Lewis benefit gala”. Just as you’d suspected, the information is public knowledge: the third Saturday of May at the Finca Corte. There is no way in hell that Spiral is catering that event; they weren’t ritzy enough to be hired by the likes of one of the most expensive hotels in the city for one of the biggest events on the city’s calendar. Something is going on and you just know all of this is connected somehow. You just need proof. Maybe Maya is right. You’d broken into a few places before. How hard could it be to get into Suga’s office?

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whysthatsofuckingfunnydickwad · 5 years

Text

Slow Hands

Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier

Here’s 5.2K words of basically pure smut. Blame Sara for this because she peer pressured me.

“Don’t forget, Rich, we’re going to Ben’s poetry slam tomorrow night,” Eddie said into the phone that was pressed between his shoulder and ear as he typed away on his laptop. He had a report that was due before the end of the weekend that he somehow needed to cram into his ever-tightening schedule, and unfortunately for his school work, Eddie’s attention span always seemed to be taken up by the extravagant Richie Tozier.

“Don’t worry your pretty head about my commitment to my dear Benjamin, Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie said on the other end of the line while scribbling Eddie’s last minute reminder onto the calendar-templated dry erase board Mike had bought for him after the time Richie missed two exams in a row due to mixed up dates. “Do you remember what the dress code was? Stan might kill me if I show up underdressed to anything ever again.”

Eddie laughed softly to himself at the memory of Stan nearly bending a salad fork in his fist when Richie had showed up dressed casually for the annual Exotic Bird Protection fundraising banquet. Stan’s bird watching group had donated 100 dollars per chair for whomever Stan decided to bring with him as representation for the members in the New York area. Apparently the location, The London Club, had confused Richard, who showed up in skinny jeans and a flashy jean jacket to a black tie event.

“Yeah,” Eddie said with his words so laced with his smile that Richie could picture it perfectly in his mind if he closed his eyes, “Ben said that it’s casual dress, you should be fine.”

Their conversation continued and Eddie eventually abandoned his laptop, shutting it down and moving to lie on his bed. Talking to Richie came as easy as breathing; the pair had grown impossibly closer since their big move despite how large the city was. Eddie’s grown to realize that it’s easy to develop a feeling of being impossibly small somewhere as large as New York City. Nobody knows him and everybody is travelling in a different direction than he was; it’s breathtakingly new for a small town kid.

Eddie, who happened to be mid sentence, yawned and looked at the clock on his bedside table while finishing his thought, his eyes widened at the late time, he opted to ignore the number of hours he’d just spent on the phone with someone he’d seen all day and would see again for most of the day tomorrow.

“Ouch,” Richie laughed at Eddie’s impossibly adorable yawn, “Getting tired of me, Eds?”

“I got tired of you years ago, Richard,” Eddie said and giggled when Richie audibly gasped in mock offense. “Listen, man, I still have to shower before I go to bed, you know I hate leaving the apartment with wet hair.”

“You’re gonna take a shower? Are you kidding, without me? Eds, I’m wounded,” Richie said into the phone, expecting a humorous groan and brief goodnight, but that’s not what he got.

Instead, Eddie laughed heartily and said, “Okay then, why don’t you come and join me?”

Eddie held his breath, surprised at the sudden boldness that has taken hold of him, and just as he’s about to abandon his previous statement and blame the late hour, Richie, having swallowed thickly before even comprehending what Eddie had said, replied with a small laugh, “Only if I get to lather your girly soap on you.”

Eddie tried to come up with an excuse to leave the conversation before he could embarrass himself but before he could mutter anything, Richie, whose voice seemed to drop at least half an octave and had become filled with air, interrupted. “Tell me more, Eds.”

“I’d let you do more than just that, Rich,” Eddie said through the shaking release of his held breath. A shiver went up the lower half of his back and shot through his shoulders at the thought of Richie’s hands sliding through his hair, rubbing in the peppermint scented suds and massaging his scalp. He vividly imagined Richie gripping a fistful of his brunette locks and pulling his soapy hair back into the steaming stream of water to wash the foam down his bow arched back and Richie’s pale arm as the taller man sucked marks into the expanse his neck. Eddie could feel the turnings of lust growing hot in his stomach.

“Tell me what you want me to do, Eddie,” Richie whispered into the phone and Eddie nervously rubbed his hand against the terry cloth fabric covering the tops of his thighs, imagining Richie’s constantly confident touch as he spoke. Eddie was beginning to forget how to breathe.

“I want you to touch me,” Eddie whispered, unsure of what to say as his hand rose to rub against the firmness in his soft shorts, fingertips moving to dance along the hem. “Can you make me feel good and clean, Richie?”

Eddie bit his lips together and physically smacked his palm to his forehead at the words that had tumbled from his mouth. Dumb. Beverly would be disappointed in the awkwardness he was allowing to spill out of him like word vomit.

This time it was Richie releasing a shaking breath as his free hand moved slowly from gripping his freshly washed sheets to toying with the silver button on his jeans, taking his time with the fastenings that were pressed against his growing erection. “Oh, Eds,” Richie says lowly into the phone, “I can make you feel better than you’ve ever felt before, but the things I want to do to you are far from clean.”

Flashes of Richie lying on his bed with his pants low on his hips, face flushed, eyes heavy with lust, and his hand rubbing against the crotch of his jeans shoot through Eddie’s head and he finally allows his slender fingers to dip into his shorts and briefs, coming into contact with the hot, velvety skin of his shaft. “Oh, g-god, Richie,” Eddie moans high pitched and needy as his fingers start to squeeze in waves around him, “I want you bad, Rich. I want- I w-want-.”

“You want me to make you feel good, baby?” Richie interrupts as he finally drags his fly down and pushes the denim pants down his lean thighs. “You want me to touch you all over, Eds, every last inch of your gorgeous skin?” Richie’s voice dropped to a low, almost unsure whisper, “Are you touching yourself, Eddie?”

The sudden breaching thought that Eddie is gasping as he touches himself while his best friend is on the other end of the phone threatens to bring him crashing to earth with fear. The thought terrifies him for the briefest of moments, until he hears Richie moaning softly on the other end of the line. More images spark in Eddie’s mind of Richie gripping his length in his pale hand, the dark hair travelling from the base of his prominent cock to his navel where his shirt has risen to expose his stomach. Heat pools heavily in Eddie’s stomach at the thought of Richie getting off to him just a couple of blocks over and he felt his abdomen contract as he neared completion. Throwing caution and fear to the curb and abandoning the taunting thoughts that could possibly bring him down from his high, Eddie moans into the phone, “Please, Richie.”

Richie’s skin had grown hot and red as he started to perspire with anticipation, he sucks in a breath and grips his hard on tightly, “Eds” he says, breath hitching, voice weak with lust and anxiety from his pressing question, “Can I come over?”

Eddie moves his hand from his length to grasp the soft sheets at his side with white knuckles as shivers violently racked his body at the loss of touch so close to climaxing. Eddie’s cock twitched against his belly as he sucked in a couple of deep breaths, attempting to calm himself down enough to answer Richie’s question. He could practically hear Richie’s anxiety in the silence over the line.

With a stuttering exhale, Eddie whispered, “Yes.”

In high school, Eddie had been on the track team, ditching his inhaler once and for all, and worked his way up to setting the state of Maine’s high school records for the 200 meter straight dash and the two mile run. It took Eddie nine and a half minutes to run two miles. Now Richie, who had never joined any sports in high school, sprinted down two and a half miles of the ever awake streets of New York City and set a buzzing new record for the time it took for Richie to get to Eddie’s studio apartment. Richie was knocking on Eddie’s door twelve minutes after having hung up the phone in his apartment.

Eddie jumped when he heard the knocking; his fingers had been twisting together with anxiety as he waited for Richie to arrive and now that Richie was there, just on the other side of the door, they had stopped fidgeting and began slightly trembling. Eddie looked at himself in the large mirror he had hanging on the wall, he already looked fucked up; his hair sticking up in different directions, cheeks flushed, chest heaving under the soft white V-neck he wore, and his still erect cock straining against the fabric of his red shorts.

When he opened his apartment door, Richie looked just as wrecked as Eddie had imagined, and for a moment Eddie allowed his eyes to trail over Richie in his crumpled state against the doorframe, the taller man still panting from his run. When their eyes met, Richie swallowed thickly at the lust pooled in Eddie’s doe eyes and parted his thin lips, “I almost got hit by a taxi. I mean, I guess I kind of did, I was on the hood for a second. I think the guy started yelling at me but I didn’t stop.”

Eddie laughed and let the smile continue to tug at the corners of his mouth as he bit his lip and looked up shyly through his lashes, “Only you would get hit by a taxi and still run.”

“I think I was running towards something pretty important,” Richie whispered as he finally moved into Eddie’s personal space, letting the door softly swing shut behind them. Almost methodically, Eddie’s hands moved to hold the back of Richie’s neck and tangle in his dark curls as he picked Eddie up. Eddie allowed his strong, tanned thighs to wrap around Richie’s narrow hips before Richie set him down on the closest surface, which happened to be the counter that separates the kitchen and the rest of Eddie’s living space, crowding him almost instantly. “Eds,” Richie said upon an exhale.

Their foreheads rested together as Richie moved to stand between Eddie’s thighs, hands sliding up soft flesh before meeting the terrycloth of Eddie’s shorts and watching his fingertips disappear underneath the cuffs. Eddie, heart pounding violently within his chest, moved in until his nose bumped lightly against Richie’s freckled cheek and hesitated before slotting his lips against the slight roughness of Richie’s chapped ones.

Richie, whose heart was pounding in his ears and whose cock was straining furiously against his zipper, almost crumpled under the intensity of the chaste kiss and tried steadying his shaking hands by roughly groping Eddie’s upper thigh, hands almost lost entirely underneath the fabric of his shorts. Eddie gasped slightly into Richie’s mouth at the rough nature of his hands, which allowed Richie to smoothly slide their tongues together.

With soft fabric bunched against his slim wrists, Richie’s hands moved around to take handfuls of Eddie’s ass and pulled the smaller boy closer to him. Richie pulled back to whisper into Eddie’s ear, “I need you to tell me if it gets to be too much, Eds.”

Eddie nodded and Richie reattached his lips to the addicting flavour of strawberry Chapstick and Eddie Kaspbrak. Pulling Eddie’s hips forward again to meet his own, Richie groaned deeply into Eddie’s eager mouth as the tanned brunette pushed at Richie’s jacket, the denim bunching at his elbows before getting stuck. Eddie’s pelvis meeting his own sent electricity up Richie’s spine, causing the hairs on his body to stand tall and gooseflesh to rise from his pale skin. Pulling away from the kiss took all the physical self control Richie had over his body and then some, feeling cold as soon as his hands left Eddie’s body.

The view, to say the least, was worth it. Eddie’s hands were braced against the hard counter, shoulders slightly hunched, rising and falling with his panting breaths, his thighs were parted with his hard on trapped and prominent within his shorts, legs dangling off the edge of the counter. His mouth was red and swollen, lips glossed with Richie’s saliva, eyes glazed over with longing, and a blush stained his cheeks and chest. Richie had never seen anything quite as perfect.

“Holy fucking fuck,” Richie muttered before he tore his jacket off the rest of the way and he stripped his T-shirt from his body, causing the blush already on Eddie’s face and chest to deepen from pink to crimson. Following Richie’s lead, Eddie shyly lifted his V-neck over his head and threw it to the floor. Before he could push his overgrown bangs from his face Richie was pulling Eddie’s slight body off of the counter and carrying him towards the queen sized mattress that Eddie had resting on a box spring just below the bay window across the room.

“Richie,” Eddie moaned while tightening his legs around Richie’s slim waist and burying his face in his neck while one of his hands carded through Richie’s hair. It took Richie no less than three steps to trip over his previously discarded jacket, toppling forward and half landing on top of Eddie.

“Fuck, Eds,” Richie said, scrambling to get off of the shorter man and check for injuries, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mea-”

Before Richie could ramble on Eddie pushed the trashmouth off of him, the lanky man landing on his back what felt like seconds before Eddie was climbing on top of him, knees spread on either side of Richie’s hips. Planting his hands on Richie’s chest, one over his ribs, and the other against his breastbone just above the other man’s racing heart; Eddie ground his hips down, plush rear meeting Richie’s desperate and clothed cock. “Bev taught me some wrestling tricks, and yeah,” Eddie stated without stopping his merciless grinding against a moaning Richie, whose hands had settled on Eddie taut thighs, “I will use them against you.”

Richie couldn’t help the whole hearted laughed that punched its way out of his chest, eyes squeezed shut and brows furrowed, “Be careful Eds, mental imagery of you and Bev rolling around together on the ground might just make me cream my jeans.”

Eddie scoffed and, almost thoughtlessly, reached forward and harshly twisted one of Richie’s pink nipples between his thumb and index finger. Richie screeched at the pleasure-pain that coursed through his body through the small peak and bucked his hips up against Eddie sharply, body arching off the ground at a backbreaking angle. Eddie pressed his bottom against Richie’s crotch to hold him down as he continued his slow torture. Experimentally, Eddie moved until both of his hands were placed over Richie’s pectorals, thumbs rubbing tortuously slow at the aroused buds, one slightly bruising from Eddie’s previous attack.

Richie, who was now moaning with abandon, felt the growing sensation of peaking building inside of him, beginning to squirm underneath Eddie and growing desperate for more. “Oh, god,” Richie moaned, his voice laced with need as Eddie’s small thumbs continued their stroking movements, “Eddie, I’m all for nipple play and cumming untouched, but I don’t wanna jizz my pants. Not tonight.”

The pleading tone in Richie’s voice left Eddie with a satisfied feeling deep in his gut, one he would have to address at a later date because as soon as Eddie let up, Richie all but picked him up and threw him onto the pillow top mattress. The bounce that came after his initial impact with the bed left Eddie in a fit of giggles that hadn’t died down by the time Richie had crawled on top of him and when he was finally able to calm himself, he looked up to see Richie staring at him with complete adoration.

“Tell me I’m not dreaming, Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie whispered and his large hand settled on Eddies rouge cheek, thumb stroking the soft flesh there. Before Eddie could speak, as it seems to often be, Richie whispered again, a smirk taking over his face, “Nah, I couldn’t be. Dream Eddie is never this pretty.”

Eddie didn’t have the words, instead reaching down towards the waist of Richie’s jeans, nimble fingers toying with the button until it popped open, exposing the fly of the jeans and the ever-thickening trail of hair that lead from Richie’s navel to his cock. With one hand Eddie, torturously slow, dragged the zipper of Richie’s jeans down, almost leaving the man over him exposed, with the other he pulled Richie in by the back of his neck for another chaste kiss.

“Please, Richie,” Eddie whispered as Richie kissed from his mouth and down his sharp jaw, hands pushing languidly at the denim at Richie’s hips, “Don’t make me wait any longer.”

Richie nodded against Eddie’s skin, mouth leaving small red marks in its wake as he travelled down Eddie’s exposed chest and worshipped the familiar skin he’d never had the liberty of touching. Eddie arched towards Richie’s mouth and whispered small pleads into the air as Richie’s mouth reached the hem of his shorts, teeth biting at the material. “Let me see you, Eds,” Richie moaned and Eddie nodded, pleads increasing in volume.

“Richie,” Eddie thoughtlessly continued to nod, eyes shut and hands pulling at the soft fabric of his pale bed sheets. “Please touch me.”

Richie’s hands gripped the red fabric and started slowly tugging the shorts down Eddie’s sculpted, hairless legs, kissing the newly revealed skin of Eddie’s hip. Once Eddie’s cock was free, resting upwards against his stomach, Richie pulled Eddie’s shorts the rest of the way off and discarded them without concern of their landing point. Without a moment’s hesitation, Richie took Eddie’s length in his hand and placed his mouth along the side, kissing the tender flesh. “Eds?” Richie started, receiving a broken moan from the man above him, “I wanna suck your cock.”

“Fuck,” Eddie yelled when Richie’s tongue flattened itself against Eddie’s member and dragged itself to the tip where pre-cum was pearling and dripping in rivers. The salty taste of Eddie left Richie desperate, mouth encasing the head and swallowing the shaft down his throat. Eddie impulsively bucked up, hand flying into Richie’s curls and his brows knitting together as he lifted his head to watch Richie’s mouth experimentally engulf his cock.

Continuing to gently buck into Richie’s mouth, Eddie felt his stomach heating up at the feeling of Richie’s slightly crooked teeth scraping against the delicate skin of his cock. Blindly, Richie reached towards the night stand placed beside Eddie’s bed, wrapped his fingers around the knob of the small drawer, pulling it open and grabbing the bottle of lube that resided there. The hand that had been wrapped around the hairless base of Eddie’s cock moved to pour lubricant along the long fingers of Richie’s other hand, once satisfied Richie tossed it to the side and listened the bottle clatter to the floor. “Christ, Richie,” Eddie said as his bucking started to grow reckless and choppy, pleasure coursing through his shaking body.

Eddie roughly pulled Richie’s head away from his crotch by his curls just as his fingers started exploring Eddie’s puckered and desperate entrance. The overwhelming sensation of Richie’s perfectly filthy mouth and the breaching feeling of being stretched open left Eddie with a tight knot of pleasure in his stomach that was all too close to coming undone. Richie immediately tensed and froze every part of his body that touched Eddie and started to shake with fear that he had done something wrong. Eddie felt Richie’s rigid body before he saw the worry in his magnified eyes.

“Are you okay?” Richie asked, lips swollen and coated with spit.

Eddie nodded and Richie visibly relaxed but didn’t continue his exploration of the naked man’s sensitive hole and Eddie felt the tension in his stomach from his impending orgasm leave him, sheepishly Eddie whispered, “I was going to cum.”

The blush that covered Eddie’s body darkened and Richie, keeping intense eye contact with Eddie, allowed his sheathed finger, already two knuckles deep, to curl and twist within the warmth that was Eddie.

“That's kind of the point, Spaghetti,” Richie smirked before lowering his head to pepper kisses and hickies over Eddie’s tanlined thighs, fingers slowly working their way in and out of Eddie’s tight body.

Eddie moaned and clutched the bed sheet, pulling the taut fabric from the corners of the mattress. As Richie added fingers to his relentless attack on Eddie’s entrance, Richie felt his heart begin to speed up in anticipation.

It's taken them upwards of a decade to get to this point. Years of pining had lead to the moment in time where Richie Tozier would brutally fuck Eddie open with his astonishingly long fingers. Richie occupied his mouth by continuing to suck at the head of Eddie’s abused cock, drool cascading down his shaft and causing Eddie’s skin to erupt with goosebumps. “Richie,” Eddie gasped, white knuckling his sheets, “Fuck, Richie, just fuck me. Please. Oh god.”

Richie pulled away from Eddie until their bodies no longer touched. The smaller man, who laid before his best friend naked and shameless, arched his back off the bed while trying to follow Richie’s warmth. Staring down at Eddie, Richie began pushing the denim jeans off of his hips, slowly exposing the brightly patterned briefs underneath, and Eddie, who was sweaty and panting, began to shake with the desperation and anticipation he felt fluttering in his stomach.

Once Richie had kicked off his shoes, socks, and jeans, he climbed over Eddie with a grace he hadn’t ever seen Richie possess. His glasses had started to slide down the bridge of his narrow nose and, unconsciously, Eddie reached up to pull them off of the man above him but before he could Richie grabbed his wrist. “I wanna be able to see you, Eds,” he whispered, hot breath fanning over Eddie’s features, “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

Eddie felt a lump forming in his throat and pulled Richie down to press their lips together, stopping any unwanted whimpers in his throat from escaping. The kiss grew and swelled until the pair were frantically feeling each other, as if scared the other would disappear. Eddie’s hands roamed the uncharted plains of Richie’s back, running over the horizontal stretch marks that formed from his junior year growth spurt that brought him from 5’6 to over 6 foot. His nimble fingers danced up the knobs of Richie’s spine and came down over his shoulder blades while dragging his nails against his pale skin. Richie trembled as Eddie’s fingers dipped under the elastic band of Richie’s briefs, digging into the soft flesh of his ass.

Richie shot up, Eddie’s hands still on his hips, and slid his underwear down, shucking them off of his ankles with a slight kick. Eddie’s thumbs rubbed over the protruding bone of Richie’s hip and flicked his eyes down to Richie’s erection briefly before looking back up and into the towering man's eyes. Richie leaned forward again, placing his weight down on his bony elbows and pressing his nose against Eddie’s, the smaller mans hands moving to hold Richie’s biceps. Richie’s lips softly pressed against Eddie’s again before he pulled away.

Eddie’s legs were spread wide as Richie adjusted above him, knees bending to cage Richie’s hips while he leaned up on his elbows to chase Richie’s mouth. “Eds,” Richie said as he brought his hips down to meet Eddie’s, their erections pressed together hotly against Eddie’s pelvis. “Eds, I don’t have a-“

“I don’t care. I want you inside me,” Eddie whimpered as Richie continued to grind their cocks together. “I’m clean.”

“Eds, are you sure?”

Eddie nodded frantically, bringing one hand up to Richie’s curls and pulling him forward. Their foreheads pressed together and Eddie swallowed thickly, “I’ve never wanted anyone but you, Rich. I need you.”

Richie’s brows furrowed and brought his hand down to his manhood, wrapping his long fingers around the base and bringing his length to press down between the soft flesh of Eddie’s ass. The head of his cock pushed against the puckered hole and Eddie dropped down from his elbows to throw an arm over his eyes and use his free hand to grip the sheets that bunched below him. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard, Eds.”

“Rich,” Eddie moaned, tapping Richie’s arm that continued to rub the leaking head of his cock over Eddie’s entrance. “Richie, you threw the lube somewhere.”

“Fuck,” Richie shouted as he jumped off of Eddie, the smaller man giggling as Richie ran around the bed, his pale, and surprisingly supple, ass shaking as he moved. Once Richie found the lube, he ran back over to Eddie, a smile pulling at his lips as he listened to Eddie laugh.

For a moment, Richie felt his heart ache at the sight of Eddie. A tangled mess in the sheets of his bed, with a million dollar smile spread across his face and all the fondness and love Richie could ever hope for in his gaze. Richie felt the image settle in his heart as he climbed back over Eddie. “You’re so beautiful, Eds,” he said, free hand moving to Eddie’s cheek, “Most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Richie moved until his hips rested between Eddie’s thighs and buried his face in the nape of the smaller boys neck. His mouth sucked at the sensitive skin there and, with his free hand, lubed his cock to the sound of Eddie moaning beneath him.

Pressing himself against Eddie’s entrance, Richie slowly pushed his cock into Eddie and began to tremble at the feeling of warmth enveloping him. “Fuck,” Eddie moaned as Richie’s cock stretched him out and he dug his nails into the skin of the taller mans shoulders. Richie’s mouth moved from Eddie’s neck up to his jaw, kissing and licking at the soft angles of his face.

Once Richie’s hips rested against Eddie’s, his cock fully nestled inside of the smaller man, Richie looked up to meet Eddie’s eyes, hovering above him and putting his weight on his elbows. The pair stayed silent for a moment, Eddie’s hands roamed Richie’s collarbones and neck while Richie’s gripped the loose sheet beneath him.

Eddie let out a shaking breath before moving his hips slightly, feeling the drag of Richie’s cock and whimpering. “Fuck me, Richie.”

Without hesitating, Richie pulled his hips back almost completely before slamming them back against Eddie’s, shaking the man below him with the force of it. The eruption of pleasure punched a shout out of Eddie’s chest and his cock, which rested against his pale stomach, began leaking pre-cum in rivers that flowed across his ivory skin.

“Fuck, Ed’s,” Richie moaned, eyes squeezing shut as rivets of pleasure traveled up his spine. “Jesus fucking Christ, you feel so fucking good. Holy shit.”

Eddie moaned and pulled Richie’s chest down to meet his as their hips met rhythmically. The smaller man was panting and letting out whines as Richie slammed into him, moving his entire body up the mattress. Slowly, Eddie’s hands travelled up to grip Richie’s unruly and sweaty hair in a vice, jerking his head to the side to meet his lips in a slick and messy kiss.

The man above him moaned and, despite the sweat covering his skin, broke out in goosebumps at the tingling sensation fluttering down from where Eddie’s hands gripped him. Richie moved his mouth from Eddie’s and trailed open mouthed kisses along his jaw and down his neck before sucking a dark purple mark into the skin his collarbone rested beneath. The pinching feeling left Eddie squirming and tears began to pool in his dark eyes, the sensation becoming too much as Richie shifted and began hitting his prostate with every thrust of his hips.

“Right there, Richie,” he yelled out, back arching to chase the feeling. “Right there, fuck me.”

Richie laughed weakly against Eddie’s shoulder and slowed his hips, “That’s kind of what I’m doing, Eds.”

Eddie moaned, freely and slack-jawed, “You fuck me so good, Rich.”

“Yeah?” Richie groaned, moving to balance on his hands to look down at Eddie as he rocked his hips into the man below him. “You like how I fuck you, baby? Nice and deep?”

Eddie nodded his head as Richie’s hand moved to cup the side of his rouge race, thumb dipping into his mouth and grazing his tongue. “Keep going, Richie. Please,” he whispered as Richie thumb moved to trace his bruised lips, “I’m so close.”

Richie began to slam his cock harder into Eddie with a steady but brutal pace, slim hips meeting the soft sides of Eddie’s thighs as the smaller man held Richie close with his legs. “I want you to cum without me touching your dick, Eddie.”

Eddie whimpered, his cock twitched while his balls ached and tensed with the need to release. The coil in his stomach tightened and, as Richie’s cock continued to meet his prostate in a brutal attack, he felt his remaining resolve start to shake, working him up as moans and tears began to flow freely from him. “Shit, Richie. Shit, I love you so much. I love you so fucking much, keep fucking me. Please, please Rich.”

Richie’s eyes squeezed shut and he felt his composure snap, his hips stuttering and his cum starting to shoot out of him and into Eddie’s warmth. “Eds, Eds, Eds,” he moaned with each thrust, “Fuck, I love you, Eds. So fucking much.”

At the feeling of Richie’s warmth and the confession falling from his lips, Eddie squeezed his eyes shut and began to spill ropes of cum against his stomach and Richie’s chest, arching as Richie’s hips continued to work him through his orgasm.

The stars and lights behind Eddie’s eyes began to fade out as Richie collapsed against him and mouthed at his neck, moaning praise incoherently. Eddie’s legs, still wrapped around Richie, trapped the other man on top of him as his hands trailed along the angry red marks that marred his back.

The pair come down from their high, sweaty and sticky, wrapped in each other and the late night New York bliss.

“Hey,” Richie whispered against his skin, still breathless, “I love you.”

Eddie felt more tears gently leak out of his eyes, hugging Richie closer to his body, “I love you, too.”

“Do you think,” Richie started, unsure of how to finish, he took a moment to think it over before huffing out a lazy laugh, “Do you think we should take that shower now?”

Eddie laughed below Richie, the force of his giggles jostling Richie. “Definitely.”

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #smut #au #reddie smut #i guess #im probably going to hell #lmao #fml #I havent read this in its entirety #this is my first smut go easy #haters go home #it #they gay #blame sara #um #yuh #sky writes

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studystock9 · 3 years

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Alabama Basketball: How the Tide's Innovation Continues to Roll

no longer not like its neighbors on the nook lot of Coliseum Boulevard within the Mal M. Moore Athletic complex, Alabama basketball has equivalent decrees to defy as its season soon starts off after sweeping SEC titles, revising checklist books, and losing assertive veterans who led the team in 2020-21 to as short an ascension as the activity's considered. The evident disconnect to Alabama football is that third-12 months educate Nate Oats doesn’t yet have the equity to warrant enthusiasts’ response of ‘however, nonetheless it’s Alabama’ when many in and round college basketball naturally will query where and when Crimson Tide hoops nears its proverbial plateau. however every little thing in basketball can also be quantified, to the decent and dangerous of Alabama skeptics, as as soon as-empirical proof offered via the ‘eye look at various’ has conceded to statistics and analytically-pushed scouting thanks to hoops’ hand-me-down method to growing to be the game via suggestions gathering first by means of the NBA. It’s distinctive now, and Alabama illustrates the activity's evolution in its play with a excessive number of tried three-factor photographs, the sole option to pictures at the rim per analytics, a fast velocity of play, and its have-cake-and-eat-it-too outlook on amount and best being all however together unique in video games won. The volume of shots dictates scoring opportunities just because the pleasant of shot determines the chance of ball stripping nylon. beneath Oats, the Tide is the cat to replica, and nothing illuminates that claim more than a now-growing to be title in faculty basketball it truly is every little thing however for the Alabama teach, the role of a bunch-cruncher and a covert staffer who values the values. Meet Adam Bauman, the Director of Scouting and Analytics for Alabama basketball. he's the assistant unseen, even to accurate-notch cameramen, and his enter to the Tide's innovation, no matter if in recruiting, scouting of opponents, or fashion-spotting outliers in the team's performance via records, is all a part of a job description currently transforming into in popularity. it's simply that his boss spotted the game's path before most else. he is one other pair of eyes as receptive to the role numbers play within the video game as Oats, the excessive school math instructor-became-SEC train of the year. And he's been with him because he turned into at Buffalo, after he served as a supervisor to the Southern Illinois basketball software and spent time as a graduate assistant at diverse stops following commencement from SIU. Bauman enters 12 months three at Alabama, and he is paid his dues of rebuilding the program internally as others have. And he's witnessed its quick growth from year one to yr two under its aggressive chief. Yet, as completed because the Tide became final season, its notion of being offensively-driven is a half-reality. "if you seem to be on the analytics and also you appear at the numbers, the difference was we went from being out of the right a hundred defensively to being in the correct 5 for probably the most part of the season," Bauman said. "after which the 2nd part of the yr we had been suitable-three, so that changed into most likely the biggest change." it be a multi-dissimilar perception to why Alabama generally more desirable defensively from 2019-20 to 2020-21, and here are the numbers: Two years ago, its protective effectivity score changed into ninety nine.5, which ranked 114th nationally. closing season its ranking entire at 87.8, rating third-most fulfilling in school basketball, per KenPom. or not it's personnel, personnel, and, yes, personnel. Oats and Co. ably equalized offenses by way of trotting out longer, greater athletic gamers who were more suitable at smothering ball monitors, shut outs, and other moves that defensively hamstrung the crew the year prior due to less dimension and insurance. subsequently, the Crimson Tide won each the standard season and event championship of its convention, back to the sweet 16 circular of the NCAA event for the first time due to the fact that 2003-04, had an NBA Lottery select for the 2d consecutive season in shelter Joshua Primo, and nonetheless its two-year transition from a first round NIT exit to a trendy ultimate 4 pick amongst event consultants is wondered in that its sustainability invitations accepted reluctance. at the moment, and main as much as early autumn, the instruct-speak cliché of no longer residing on previous performances, negative and otherwise, does not observe to those in the partitions of Coleman Coliseum, the domestic arena of Alabama basketball. Bauman, Oats, and others all binged basketball all offseason to identify talents improvements, previous blunders, and the explanation why the Tide exited within the third circular of the NCAA tournament in its loss to UCLA, a countrywide semifinalist thereafter. though the Bruins weren't a novel focus so much as an usual representation of a barrier to splinter. "We did some deep dives into what went wrong offensively. well, not always what went incorrect, however why we dipped," Bauman talked about. "at the floor stage, simply searching at the stats and where we ranked in definite areas, we acquired our shot blocked a lot and then our turnover cost ended up being pretty bad on the yr." 'Bama ranked 157th within the NCAA with a turnover fee of 18.6 % of its possessions, and in its seven losses it shot forty four p.c on two-element field purpose attempts compared to the season regular of over 50 p.c. element within the Crimson Tide's excessive number of tried three-factor shots—totaling over forty six % of its shots taken, ranking 18th nationally—and you'd determine a lot of these two-factor field goals had been at or close the rim in its losses last season. Bauman attributes its struggles on the rim to either bad reads or indecisiveness, announcing Alabama avid gamers obligatory extra two-footed flora down low to examine the protection, locate an open man, or set up a far better scoring opportunity. in the meantime ... What adjustments had been made, you ask yourself, neatly, the Crimson Tide not directly consulted with one of the vital few consistent contenders of school basketball, Gonzaga, to improve its own software from a distance. See, under educate Mark Few, the Zags are most akin to Alabama upon floor-degree digging, and the one-loss country wide runner-up turned into the only team alongside Oats' crew to each finish with its possessions per forty minutes mark north of seventy three and to conclude within the good 25 of the remaining AP ballot. Gonzaga ranked seventh nationally and Alabama comprehensive eleventh. "There changed into a time when we in reality went via every possession of Gonzaga’s this yr," Bauman talked about. "The largest difference between Gonzaga and us is that they have way greater participant flow. They’re at all times slashing guys, and swing-swing and moving, and that’s how they get more assisted photographs at the rim." “however we’ve also taken some stuff they do and we’ve stated it, about instituting greater player circulation." there is a steadiness, though, given how Alabama likes to operate. In its equipment, if you'd even define it as such with the volume of player freedom it emphasizes, there are less chess items moving at once, but the ones who're moved around the metaphorical board are more consequential to the success of the on-court docket collective. And the Crimson Tide offense cannot stray too far from that. It ties lower back to turnovers, peculiarly in case you accept as true with that Alabama's offense is built on participant reads as opposed to units, performs, or the rest to skew the correct mix of liberal ball move and pressure-then-kick out options. opposite an initiator, the "MIG," the most critical guy away from the ball, as Bauman explained, is who Oats' offense is based on, and his job is to direct protecting traffic to a considerable number of areas of the flooring so Alabama creates its chances and isolates scorers as superior it may devoid of compromising rhythmic timing. but all this makes for a bounce from prep basketball to high-degree SEC play, and prospects who pique the activity of Crimson Tide coaches always share equivalent features. For Oats and his workforce, their recruiting philosophy hasn't modified lots, both. "Positional size is huge, size is huge, athleticism is large, and that they should be in a position to shoot the ball," Bauman spoke of. "if they can shoot it, and that they're lengthy and athletic then we can type of cope with the relaxation." The usual peak of players on the Alabama roster last season was a shade beneath 6-foot-5 at 77.7 inches, and whereas the colloquialism of "big man beats little man" is basically actual in basketball, the video game now champions variables like wingspan and lateral athleticism because it's moved to a extra guard and wing-heavy playstyle with players who're, ideally, able to filling almost every function on the ground. To phrase it in a different way, the sport of faculty basketball may additionally had been in the back of the times of Oats and his personnel considering he became at Buffalo, and everybody is catching on when it comes to roster construction, player development, and enhancements internally. And as imaginative because the Crimson Tide has been on the grounds that Oats' arrival, as well as Bauman and a number of different assistants, the as soon as-clear advantage of zigging to the zag at a mid-important program like Buffalo has diminished. What's left is a body of workers developed by means of the work of Bauman and others who's inclined to well known what should exchange, and due to this fact, might not likely sit still inspite of how many greater trophies accumulate in Coleman Coliseum. "someone's outworking you, somebody's doing something to set themselves aside, and lots of us are aligned in that considering, but it surely all starts with Nate." As for that plateau ... 먹튀검증

#먹튀검증

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random-mha-thoughts · 4 years

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Chains (Shinsou X Reader)

Pairing: Shinsou x Reader, side!Kirishima

For anon

Genre: Angst to fluff

Word count: 2,576

Tags: @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog

a/n: Who am I to resist a request? Or even a little angst ;) Take care of your mental health kids, don’t end up like me Thanks for being the first request anon! I hope I did a good job fulfilling your wishes!

When I started writing, I was scrolling through TikToks (bc I’m a loser) and I found one that helped me tweak the climax scene and I’m pretty happy with how it turned out. It’s almost twice as long as my previous posts because I wanted to stuff as much into it. Enjoy!

(Also ICYMI I wrote a Todoroki Birthday Special!)

"Are you excited for the Sports Festival?" I swings my legs on the bench, sipping my carton of juice.

Shinsou crosses his leg over the other, leaning his arms on the back of the bench. "Yeah, can't wait to face off with that loud-mouth idiot." He scoffs. "Who does he think he is? His head's stuck far up his ass. I can't believe you're friends with him."

I roll my eyes. "We're not really friends, Kirishima's attached to him at the hip, they're a package deal."

His dark purple eyes glance over me for a moment. "I see."

The expression on his face is unreadable. Not that it's out of the ordinary since he's the quiet type, but it makes me uneasy. Lately, our relationship has become distant ever since both of us made it to UA. I was accepted into 1-A and Shinsou didn't. Though he tells me he supports me wholeheartedly and assures me otherwise, I know he's hurt about it. And it doesn't help that I've had to split my time between him and my classmates after school.

I scoot closer to him, grip his large hands, and lean my head on his shoulder. "You're stressed, aren't you? I really want you to do well so you can transfer into my class. You deserve it."

Shinsou's head rests on mine in response. "I hope I can make it in."

"Hey," I call softly, a faint nagging creeping into my mind. "We're keeping competition between us friendly, right?"

"Afraid you're gonna lose, sweetheart?" he chuckles. I can't hear the smirk on his face.

I shove his shoulder with mine. "Shut up."

Red flag, my mind immediately thinks as I stand there dumbfounded by what he's just said. "You want to what?"

Shinsou crosses his arms over his chest. "I need full control over everyone on my team, that includes you."

My body grows cold and my knees start shaking. He's not joking. There's not a hint of lighthearted joking or teasing in his cold eyes. He's never even joked about it before because he was afraid of what I would think of him if he ever used his quirk on me; he would never forgive himself if he did.

I look down at my shoes. I trust his strategic mind to lead us, but it hurts to think he doesn't trust me enough to help him without control. He just wants to win like you do, I rationalize. But is that enough to relinquish total control to him?

A hand on my shoulder scatters my thoughts and I stare up into Shinsou's concerned gaze. "I know I promised before, but these are different circumstances, I'm sorry. I promise you, we can make it to the next round if you trust me."

Though I still feel torn, I sigh in surrender. "Okay."

He removes his hand, eyes blank. "Are you ready?"

A hint of hesitation persuades me to reconsider, but the thought of letting him down and pushing him away overtakes me. "Yes."

As soon as the words leave my mouth, my breath hitches and my mind goes blank. All stiffness leaves my limbs but I can't move, a numbing cold sensation takes over.

It feels strange, having no control over your body; it moves though you don't will it to, and all you can do is watch. It's almost like you're playing a 4D game, but you're the character and you can still feel everything, but you can't react. Your quirk almost feels fake for a moment until you realize it's your body. As Shinsou maneuvers our entire team to stealthily steal the other teams' headbands with the help of my chain-creation quirk, I feel out of place in my own body.

But I made this choice to trust him, and I will. I just hope I don't have to feel this again.

When I saw our names lined up for the first match, I thought it was some cruel joke my eyes were playing on me. But it wasn't. Shinsou stands across from me in the ring, hands casually stuffed in his pockets like this is the most normal thing, like I'm his enemy.

"So much for keeping competition friendly," he smirks, looking down his nose at me.

I try to match his attitude to mask my uneasy nerves. "Yeah, like you can hurt me more than I can hurt you."

I breathe, thinking of a strategy to beat him. Fortunately, my quirk is pretty offensive while his isn't. I just have to close the distance between us, grab him with my chains, and throw him out of the ring without responding to anything he says. Simple.

"AND START!!!!" Present Mic's voice booms throughout the stadium.

I run to start closing the distance between us. Admittedly, I can't make very long chains that reach all the way to him very quickly, so I have to get closer to my target.

Shinsou knows this, retreating the other way. "I guess you haven't trained enough to extend your quirk." When I don't answer, he continues, "It seems they don't teach you much in that Hero class."

The urge for me to yell at him to shut up is on the tip of my tongue, but I bite it back. If he catches me, it's game over.

"I guess the only thing that class is good for is nurturing hot-heads and stealing your time from people who're supposed to matter."

I slow down a little, my breath heaving. His words have a dark undertone to them. I understand taunting me with petty, good-natured quips, but is he digging deep?

The smirk on his face wavers a bit. "If I knew being a hero means abandoning the people you care about, then maybe some of us good guys aren't cut out for such a job."

Are you implying I'm a bad guy then? I want to taunt back, but I know I can't.

"But I guess you got into the hero course because you have a heroic quirk," he goes on. "Too bad you can't use it to its full potential yet."

He knows how frustrated I get about my quirk. Which is why he's using it as canon fire against you, I remind myself, picking up the pace again. Damnit! Just slow down already! When did you get so athletic?

"But it's fine, as long as you have fun with your new friends, right?" He suddenly comes to a stop, his back to me.

Though I'm confused and my first instinct is to stop, I rush forward, chains growing out of my palms in preparation.

"Well, I guess you always had the more heroic and useful quirk."

The pain in his voice stops me dead. What-

He turns around, hurt, pain, and anger mixed into his expression. "You must've realized the difference between our quirks, right? That I'm more suited to being a villain?" His eyebrows furrow into more anger. "I knew this day would come, I knew you never really cared about my feelings and you would eventually leave me alone like everyone else!"

Shinsou shouldn’t be like this. The way he’s trained with his quirk naturally made him more blunt and willing to share his opinion, but he's not like this usually. Getting the brunt of that bluntness doesn’t make me feel that great. My silence became less about me staying quiet to avoid his quirk and more me being appalled and dumbstruck by the accusations he’s throwing at me. I know he's only saying things to get me to respond, but when did he cross that line between playful chiding just to win and an actual fight between us? I don't even know how to feel about his words.

"You know, I never fully trusted you," he points a finger at me. "Especially when you were chosen for the Hero class and not me. I knew you would eventually shut me out of your life and avoid me because I don't fit in with your 'hero' friends. You're just like everyone else!"

My mouth gapes open, the words not coming. His apparent pain and frustration urges me to comfort him somehow, but how do I respond? Where do I even start?

Shinsou bites his lip, his features softening up into melancholy. "If you're sick of me, just leave me for Shark Teeth already, okay? Don't string me on like this!"

My chest feels heavy with guilt and I want nothing more than to run to him and throw my arms around him. "Hitoshi-"

The numbness grips me before I can register Shinsou's face relax from agony into a smirk of victory. No...

"OH MY GOD!! SHINSOU WAS FAKING A LOVER'S QUARREL TO TRAP HIS OPPONENT WITH HIS BRAINWASHING!! HOW WILL THIS END?!" Present Mic screams through the speakers.

He was faking. My heart sinks, overcome with varying degrees of fury and self-loathing.

"I'm sorry it had to come to this." Funnily enough, he doesn't sound very apologetic. "But now that I've got you, we can end this. Go walk out of bounds and lose for me."

At this point, I don't even care about losing, or that I'm walking against my will out of this stupid ring. Shinsou said all those things to hurt me intentionally, and when he realized I can ignore his taunts, he took advantage of my feelings. And everything he said, he had to have meant them somehow. I know he's bottled up all those complaints and used them against me now.

Midnight declares Shinsou the winner of the match after I take my final step out of the ring and the feeling returns to my body. When I turn around, he's grinning for his triumphant win, but it falters when he sees me. I'm not in the mood to be a good sport or even offer a smile, I just walk off and let him have his moment.

I walk up to where the rest of Class 1-A is sitting, fists still clenched into white knuckles.

"Nice job, Extra," Bakugou scowls at me, leaning back in his seat. "You got beat by that General Studies loser."

"Shut the hell up, Pomeranian asshat, I'm not in the mood." I slump down a few rows up. I just want to be alone to think. There's the fear in my mind that I didn't show off my quirk enough and I might get replaced because I was eliminated so early and that I'm still weak at my quirk, but those are the least of my worries. How am I supposed to confront Shinsou? A part of me wants to be angry and beat him into next week, but I can't bring myself to.

Kirishima slides into the seat next to me. "Hey, don't be so upset. You tried your best."

I sigh. "Thanks, Kiri. I don't care about losing though."

He puts a hand on my shoulder sympathetically. "That was a pretty nasty fight out there. Is everything okay between you guys?"

"I thought it was!" I burst out, almost laughing at my misfortune. "Apparently I was wrong and oblivious to everything!" I bury my face in my hands. "I just... How did it get to this, Kiri? I thought I knew him enough to know when something's wrong. Instead I let him deal with all those pent up emotions alone. God, I'm so stupid!"

Kirishima takes in my clearly disgruntled state and rubs the back of his neck, appearing uncomfortable. "If I'll be honest, Shinsou would be an idiot to do that to you intentionally, and he's probably kicking himself for what he did. I know he really cares about you, he was just caught in the moment."

I turn my body to face my best friend. "Kiri, I know you're resisting the urge to beat his ass, you don't have to defend him."

"Of course I wanna beat him up! He made you sit here all upset, that's not manly!" He punches his fists together, suddenly fired up before he relaxes. "And at the same time, it wouldn't be manly of me to come between you guys."

I offer him a sad smile. I already know about Kiri's crush on me, he told me a few weeks ago after class when he didn't know I was already taken. Thankfully, he never made anything awkward after that and we've stayed best friends.

"Which is why I should help you guys patch thing up instead!" He flashes a shark-tooth grin. "You guys should really talk it over, clear the air once and for all! I think he would really appreciate it if you gave him a chance to explain his feelings."

I nod to myself. "Yeah, it wouldn't do us any good to let this blow up." Swinging an arm over his shoulder, I ruffle his gelled hair. "You would make a great boyfriend, Kiri, giving great advice like this."

"Hey hey! Don't mess up my hair!" The red-head struggles in my grip. "Don't you have any idea how long it took me to do this morning?!"

I stretch out my sore muscles as I walk out of the changing room, ready to go home after a long day. In the distance, Shinsou's waiting near a bench, hands in his pockets as usual.

"Hey," I greet him with a neutral tone.

He's surprised to see me approach him first. "Hey..."

To avoid too long of an awkward pause, I say, "I'm sorry you didn't win. I guess Midoriya found a way to overcome your quirk."

"Yeah, that was shocking to me." He avoids my gaze, rubbing the back his neck awkwardly.

I swallow, gathering my wits. I've rehearsed what I wanted to say while I was sitting around idle during the day and I'm ready to let it all out. "I-"

"I'm really sorry for everything I said." Shinsou beats me to the punch. "I want to take it back and say none of it was true, but my feelings are still there." He shuffles his feet together. "I know you were still trying to make time for me, I was just selfish that you were spending time with Ashido and Kirishima and...their friends. My own insecurities got in the way." His hand lands on my head, a sign of his affection. "You made it into the Hero class by your own merit. And I do trust that you wouldn't leave me. You're the best thing that's happened to me and I almost screwed this up. And if you're still mad, I understand-"

I cut him off by enveloping him in a hug, squeezing him with my arms around him as I bury my face in his chest. "It's my fault too. I should've been more aware of your feelings and addressed them."

His arms timidly wrap around my frame. "So, you're not mad?"

"I mean, I still want to slap you for using your quirk on me twice when you promised you'd never do it."

His body rumbles as he laughs at me, petting my head. "I'm sorry for that too. I won't do it again."

"You better not," I threaten, though I know it's empty. "It really didn't feel good. If you do it again, as soon as I'm out, I'm whipping you with my chains."

He's silent for a moment. "Should I be excited or scared?" A girlish scream escapes his lips when metal collides with his back.

I had to I’m sorry :)

So the full anon ask (in case you were wondering) was: i absolutely love your writing! the shinso one is amazing! Idk if you write angst (to fluff) but if you do can you write: shinso and reader dating but the sports festival came up and they are against each other. shinso ends up saying negative things about the reader / relationship to try to get her to talk back. Reader ends up upset and wonders if he went too far. asks her best friend Kiri (who has a crush on her) for advice. And the rest is up to you :)

Thanks again anon for being my first request :)

#shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #kirishima #mha angst #shinsou angst #angst to fluff #request #ask #anon #shinsou imagine #shinsou scenario #gender neutral reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #hitoshi shinsou #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

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minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong · 4 years

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Smoke and Mirrors Chapter One

Smoke and Mirrors: a magician’s trick, the art of making an entity appear to be floating through the use of smoke and mirrors. In figurative speech, something which, once examined, is proven to be an illusion. Like the moon reflected on water, or a flower reflected in a mirror. Unable to be touched.

Description: Listless idol Jeon Jungkook has lost his creative spark. Something just feels...missing. And between jet-setting across the world and constantly evading public scandals, Jungkook’s life up until now has felt like a movie. One thing Jungkook can count on, however, is video games. Y/N has been gaming forever. And when a new VR game called Arcana is released, both Y/N and Jungkook are all over it. But what will become of Jungkook’s online persona when life forces the two to work together? And will Jungkook manage to keep his identity a secret from one of his closest Internet friends?

Genre: Romance, Drama, Fluff, Angst

Pairing: Jungkook x (gender unspecified) Reader

Word Count: 12.1k

Tags: Solo Idol!Jungkook, Gamer!Jungkook, Makeup Artist!Reader, Manager!Seokjin, Florist!Hoseok

Warnings: Swearing and mentions of alcohol, although infrequently

A/N: Haha....ha....ha....um, well this is awkward isn’t it? I haven’t been active on here in a long, long time! But God does it feel nice to return. In the time I’ve been away, I’ve been working on a lot of things at once. Too many chefs in the kitchen, except the chefs are projects/responsibilities and the kitchen is me and is also on fire. I think right now more than ever, I’ve leaned into writing to help me feel a bit better about the world. So if this story can make you happy that’s honestly all I can ask for. I don’t think I’ll be keeping a posting schedule, as that feels like too much for me right now, but maybe in the future I’ll come up with a schedule that doesn’t feel overwhelming! Regardless, I’ve missed you guys and I’ve really missed posting my writing here. I hope you all still remember me! And I hope you enjoy this story. Really. As always, please feel free to send me any thoughts or concerns! Questions, critique, comments: send them all my way! I can’t wait to get chatting with you all again.

And I’m on Twitter! I’ll put the link here if you want to follow. I’m very active over there!

- Mercury

Previous Chapter – Next Chapter

Masterlist

“On God, if you don’t start healing me-!”

“I’m working on it! Christ.”

“Well work harder, damn. Tiki’s about to go down,” you say, gritting your teeth as you whip around toward the dragon staring your party down.

It circles you, never once looking away, several stories tall with glowing yellow eyes that seem to leave trails behind in the darkness of the cavern. You feel at once impossibly small and impossibly fragile in front of such a behemoth, all purple scales and saliva stringing across pointed fangs.

“Just focus on offense for now,” says Sapphire, grunting as he lunges sword-first toward the dragon.

Your brows shoot sky high as Sapphire, a DPS like you, runs straight for the enemy. His silver knight’s armor clanks in his wake. “Wait!” you call, but it’s too late. Your teammate has his sword plunging in and slicing out and slashing wild before you can even prep your next spell. “Jesus, Saph!”

You hear his laughter like bells echo through the cavern, seeming to bounce against the domed ceiling and drip like water from the clinging stalactites. “Tiki! Distract!” you call as the dragon whips wildly: first toward Sapphire and then toward you. “Shit,” you whisper, examining your mana with a hiss. “I need a second to recover!”

Tiki, a massive green orc and also your team’s tank, rushes in with his battle axe. Upon the first hit, the dragon writhes in pain and turns toward Tiki, ire in its yellow eyes. Tiki says nothing, just lets out a string of labored breaths as he swings his heavy weapon. Sapphire is quick to attack at the dragon’s heels. The dragon opens its mouth to spew flames across the charred cavern, aiming right for Tiki, but before it can Zero finally heals him with a flash of white light and a bolt straight to his broad green chest. You jump, turn to the side to see Zero is standing beside you about twenty feet from the dragon.

“Get spelling, Nova!” he shouts, long blonde hair flying in the breeze his spell created.

His voice, deep and gruff, doesn’t suit his pretty, dark-skinned elven body: particularly the well-rendered female…curvature. Every time he talks, it takes you off guard. You shake it off and nod once.

“Loli! Get punching!” you call to your resident monk as she idles near the dragon’s tail. She says nothing. You sigh, rest a hand on your hip. “Loli!”

She jumps to attention. “Sorry! My roommate needed me,” she says with a laugh, rubbing the back of her half-shaven head.

“Tell her to piss off!” calls Tiki as the dragon, halted by Zero’s healing spell, recovers and swings a mighty paw his way.

Your mana is finally restored and, shutting your eyes, you summon a bolt of ice. With a shout, you spin your staff over your head before slamming it down with a thunderous clap. Ice splinters dizzyingly fast from the ground beneath your staff and crawls like frost until it hits the dragon, stunning it still for a few seconds.

“Health’s low! Saph, go for the kill!” Lolita shouts as she lands a solid punch on the dragon’s belly that shatters your freezing spell.

Without waiting a second more, Sapphire shoves his sword into the dragon’s heaving chest as it writhes from pain. It looses a cry that sends vibrations through the cavern. A few rocks tumble from fissures in the cave walls, and a stalactite cracks and careens toward the ground where it explodes into shards.

And, with that, the massive beast falls to its stomach, its head clunking to the ground in front of Tiki’s feet. The ensuing silence rings in your ears as the five of you stand completely still, waiting. It wouldn’t be the first time an enemy has fallen only to reveal a dormant ability that results in a second battle. None of you says a thing until the massive body before you begins to dissolve into pixels, leaving you with only the skull as a prize and a bag of loot in place of a carcass.

Lolita is the first to break the silence with a loud hoot. “Wooh! Hell yeah!” she shouts, clapping her hands.

You chuckle, lean on your staff. “Loli, you can only celebrate halfway since you missed half the fight,” you tease with a fond sigh.

She rushes toward you, wipes off her blue robes and crosses her arms. “My roommate came in!”

“And you didn’t warn us,” Zero chides as he smooths a few flyaway hairs, smiling. That model of his is just too pretty…

“I-,”

“Guys!” Sapphire shouts, jumping once as he examines the loot bag. “Look at this!”

You spin your staff in your hand and jog to stand beside the knight. His red eyes are bright, digging through the bag until he produces in one gloved hand—

“Is that a Philosopher’s Stone Fragment?” asks Tiki, similarly enraptured as he comes up beside Sapphire’s flank.

Sapphire nods. “Which means—,”

“Which means we’re one step closer,” you say, and you lock eager eyes with Sapphire who only nods. “Well shit!”

“Also means we were right to come this way,” Lolita says, holding up one finger as if correcting us. “And whose idea was that?”

Zero shoves Lolita by the head and turns back toward the loot bag. “Anything else?” he asks.

Sapphire digs around before shrugging. “A shield,” he says.

“Don’t need it,” Tiki says.

“And…mm…,” he pauses, brow furrowing as he pulls out a piece of paper. He purses his lips, runs a hand through his blue-black hair, cocks his head to the side. “Schematic?”

“For what?”

“Oh!” he exclaims, turning to you as he hands you the paper. You look it over and scoff. “Superior elemental staff.”

“Cuts down the mana I need to do spells,” you say, rolling your eyes as you pocket the paper. “Coulda used that today.”

Sapphire claps your shoulder. “Next time! We’ve still got three fragments to find before anyone else does.”

You nod. “Well, with that settled…,” you begin, itching to use the bathroom.

“Ah! You gotta leave?” asks Sapphire.

You nod. “Got work in the morning.”

“Eugh,” he sighs, shoulders slumping. “Me too.”

“Me three,” says Zero.

“Ah, the working world. We’re lucky, huh Tiki?” Lolita says with a wistful sigh as water from overhead drips onto her shoulder. She jumps a little, but settles easily. “Don’t you miss your reckless college days?”

You laugh. “I only graduated last year,” you say, turning toward Sapphire. “Speaking of which, Saph did you ever go to school?”

He stiffens. “Ah, uh…,” he begins, glancing at his feet. He’s quiet for a moment. “No. Not past high school,” he says with an almost sheepish nod.

You don’t say anything, but it seems like there’s something he’s keeping to himself, something he doesn’t want to share. Sapphire is always like that, but this feels a little different.

“Hm,” you say, sensing his discomfort. “Welp, I’m gonna peace out for the night. Message me when you guys wanna go for the next fragment. I’ll keep researching where it might be.”

“Mm, sounds good,” says Tiki. “I’m starving. Loli, wanna get some food?”

Lolita glances at Tiki out the corner of her eye. “You mean, like, real food?”

Tiki sighs. “Obviously real food. I don’t wanna waste money on game food.”

She laughs and nods. “Alright. I’ll meet you at your dorm.”

“Mm.”

Without another word, both Tiki and Lolita blink out, leaving nothing behind them. You turn toward Zero and pat his back. “Sorry for getting on your case tonight,” you say. “I was worried Tiki would fall and then…well, you get it.”

Zero shrugs, examining one of his perfect fingernails. “No, I wasn’t on my game tonight. I’ll be better next time.”

“Me too,” you say, waving as Zero too blinks out.

You turn toward Sapphire and offer a smile. “Sorry for asking about college,” you say.

He stiffens, brows raised. “Hm? Oh, no it’s fine,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck with a smile. “It’s just, uh…well, you know my dad always wanted me to go to college so…”

You wave your hands, shake your head. “Forget it, alright? I won’t bring it up unless you do first.” You smirk. “You played tank tonight, didn’t you?”

He laughs. “Yeah, a little.”

“Don’t do that shit,” you say, but you can’t help your smile. “What would we do if we lost you in the middle of a battle?”

You can see his posture go a little straight. He turns to you, blinking. “You…?” he begins, but cuts himself off with a laugh. “Ah, mm, well…I’d better get going.”

“Mhm. Message me if you get any new info about fragment locations,” you say, then chuckle. “Or if you just wanna talk about The Bachelor or something.”

He laughs with you. “I don’t watch The Bachelor!”

“Well, whatever you watch!” you call as you jog a few paces away. You offer a wave which Sapphire mimics before pressing the disconnect button on your headset.

You shake your head, disoriented as you return to your bedroom, your window sitting before you, the outskirts of Bucheon spreading out in spindly arms around you. Your head throbs a little and you wince, removing your sensor gloves and setting them gently on the light wood table beside your computer. You guide one of the philodendron leaves to the side so it won’t tickle the gloves. You shuck off the sensor jacket too and leave it draped over the back of your gaming chair. Slowly, you return your attention to the window, smiling down at the sea of lights undulating in the dark. It’s a nice evening, you notice as you press the pads of your fingers to the cool glass.

Your phone, until then sitting dormant on the tabletop beside your potted jade plant, pings to life with a notification. Your eyes widen and you grab for it, stretching your torso as you do to work out your aching muscles. Tonight’s session with the group had gone long, and the fatigue on your back is severe from slumping in that gaming chair like a shrimp. And even though you have to move your upper body to activate the full range of Arcana’s sensor controls, your ass feels like you’ve just sat through back-to-back, four-hour lectures.

BeastSlayers™

SacredSapphire: miss u guys already :-(

You laugh, watch as Tiki begins writing a message in response.

TikiTikiRoom: ..

TikiTikiRoom: dont be soft bitch ill kill you

You pad down the hallway, watching your phone as you stumble through the dark apartment with one hand on the wall bracing you. You connect your phone to the TV speakers and play some lofi something or other, bop your head as you enter the kitchen and flip on a flickering yellow light. You rifle through the freezer, produce a cherry red popsicle. You press it to your lips and smile.

Lolovely: I haven’t even made it to Tik’s dorm wtf why are you being sappy already?

CodenameZer0: Looool, Saph? More like SAP.

TikiTikiRoom: press f

SuperNova: I think it’s sweet :’)

SuperNova: Wanna voice chat?

SacredSapphire: nonono

SacredSapphire: someone’s coming over lol

Lolovely: ominous…

You chuckle and take a bite of your popsicle. But as you do, the thing turns to mush and slides from the stick like slop, staining your white shirt and your lips red. “Shit!” you exclaim, then rush to the freezer.

With a sigh, you notice that a layer of ice is frosted over the back. And as you jam your hand in, you can feel that the temperature is higher than it should be. Hence, melty popsicle. You groan, take to it with a knife from the creaky drawer. You chip away at the ice and keep chipping until the back of the freezer is visible once more.

“Cheap piece of crap,” you mumble, kicking the fridge with your socked toe.

You return to the group chat to a slew of messages.

TikiTikiRoom: WAIT SAPH DO YOU HAVE A BOY/GIRL/THEYFRIEND??

TikiTikiRoom: IM GONNA HAVE AN ANEURISM

Lolovely: !!!!!!!!!

Lolovely: ??????

CodenameZer0: Hohohoh

CodenameZer0: Could it be?

SacredSapphire: NO!!

SacredSapphire: i don’t have a boy/girl/theyfriend! i’m too busy, rip

SacredSapphire: it’s just someone

SacredSapphire: don’t worry about it lol

Lolovely: sus…

Lolovely: nova’s better at this stuff

Lolovely: interrogation

Lolovely: think if i scream hard enough nova will come back?

Lolovely: NOVAAAAAA

You laugh and take a few photos. First of the old laminate floor which now resembles a crime scene in cherry popsicle red. Next of your shirt, now streaked in slush. Third, of your face, lips stained like you’ve smeared lip tint on your skin. You pull a pout before snapping the shot, then send all three together.

SuperNova: I crave death.

SuperNova: Stupid cheap fridge. Freezes over literally monthly.

SuperNova: I hate it here.

Lolovely: oooh that pic…

Lolovely: kinda….sexy hehe

SuperNova: ???

You set your phone aside and take to cleaning the floor. Last thing you need in this shithole is an ant infestation. Your music bumps gently through the sound bar beneath your TV. Sure, your apartment is decked out in tech, but the place itself?

You glance around the kitchen, a sanitary white with pretty fixtures, and suppress a sigh. It’s all for show anyway, this apartment. Like almost all the others in the area, it only looks nice. The reality, however…

Well, it’s melted popsicles and a shower that only runs lukewarm.

You check your phone with a hip against the countertop.

TikiTikiRoom: lewd lol

SuperNova: Shut up lmao nothing lewd about my shitty fridge.

SuperNova: Anyway, no I’m not gonna help you bully Saph.

SuperNova: Leave him alone or I’ll bite your ankles.

Lolovely: !!!

Lolovely: qu'est-ce que pas?

Lolovely: Nova…you’ve been defending Saph lately…

Lolovely: hold on i’m seeing something…

CodenameZer0: Don’t threaten my ankles.

SacredSapphire: nova baby ur the only loyal one here

Laughing, you type your response and make your way to the couch, falling flat on your stomach with an unpleasant thump.

Jeon Jungkook sits still, swiveling in his gaming chair with a soft smile as he watches the messages surge through the Discord group chat. Even though they’re busy teasing him, Jungkook can’t help the swell of fondness in his chest for his group mates. He leans back precariously far, the room nearly pitch black save for the shifting LEDs on his keyboard and the purple screensaver on his monitor.

SuperNova: It’s you and me, Saph.

SuperNova: Now come here and get your kith :3

Jungkook chokes a laugh with his hand, covering his mouth as his eyes squint. He tosses his head to the side, lets out a sigh. Quietly, he touches the photo you sent and lets it spread across his screen. He chuckles, examining your expression. Displeased, you eye the camera with furrowed brows and a pout. Briefly, Jungkook considers telling you it’s cute.

But he quickly clicks out of the photo, clears his throat, and catches up with the chat.

CodenameZer0: God, barf.

TikiTikiRoom: no kithes for zero

Lolovely: lolol i want a kith :(

SuperNova: Get in line then. Saph first.

SacredSapphire: i….*blushes*

SacredSapphire: N-N-Noona!

CodenameZer0: FUCKING BARF GOODBYE

Zero’s icon goes offline and Jungkook laughs in earnest now, his head lolling back. But before he can respond, the door to his studio opens with a robotic jingle. He jumps a little, turning his whole body toward the door. He nearly falls off the chair as he swivels.

In the doorway, Kim Seokjin shuffling across the threshold with two cups of coffee in a carrier. He looks a little disheveled, hair windswept and eyes scanning the room round and round. His gaze lingers here and there: resting on Jungkook’s wall of figurines, then on the futon still pulled down and covered in a messy heap of sheets, then on Jungkook’s face as he sits perfectly still, perfectly redhanded. Jungkook’s mouth agape, his fingers poised to type another message to the group chat, his computer monitor showing no lyrics, no notes, no Ableton. Just his screensaver.

Jungkook had planned to pull up his WIP song before Jin arrived, but the opportunity to do that has long since passed.

“Uh…,” Jungkook says, dumbfounded with round eyes glowing in the flashing keyboard lights. “Hey, Seokjin.”

Jin’s nostrils flare, his expression fiery. His attention flashes to the sensor gloves, the controllers sitting beneath them, the sensor jacket left astray on the ground, haphazard.

“Jeon Jungkook-,”

“I can explain!”

Seokjin glares at him, cocks one single brow. “Uh-huh?”

“I…,” Jungkook begins, flustered as he rises to his feet. He feels like he’s in school again. Seokjin’s gaze is disarming, intense, and his knuckles are white as he crushes the cardboard handle of the coffee carrier. “Uh…I was taking a small tiny little break.”

“A small,” Seokjin begins, placing the coffee on Jungkook’s work desk and resting his palm beside it, “tiny,” he continues, leveling his eyes with Jungkook’s, “little break?” Jin’s jaw is clenched.

Jungkook swallows hard. “Mhm…”

Jungkook expects Seokjin to bare his canines, to sneer at him, to scold him to kingdom come. But his manager simply eases into a sigh and leans away from Jungkook, rubbing his forehead. It’s clear the will to fight with Jungkook is slowly leaking, and before long Seokjin has fallen backwards onto the futon, crushing the blanket mountain in his descent.

“Listen,” Seokjin says, fatigue in his voice. “You’ve got…so much going on in the next few months, you know?”

“I know!” Jungkook says, quick to sit beside Seokjin, brows knitting. He feels like a kid again, and the disappointment laced through Jin’s words feels like his childhood. “Trust me, I’m not just…like, procrastinating. It’s not that.”

Jin eyes him sidelong. “Then what is it?”

Jungkook stiffens, his back straight as a board. He clears his throat, stares at the coffee. “Let me get those,” he says, rushing to his feet with a clumsy stumble and grabbing the coffees before returning to his spot beside Jin. He hands Jin a coffee, expectant and, begrudgingly, Seokjin takes it and sips.

“Don’t avoid the question,” he says, stern. “If anyone’ll understand, it’s gotta be me, right?”

Jungkook nods. “No, you’re right!”

“Like, we’ve gone through some hard shit and where have I been? Right behind you. From day one,” he says, leveling a serious look at Jungkook. The lighthearted mood has fled from the room through the cracks in the walls. “All I’m asking is for you to put in the effort.”

Jungkook sighs, rests his forearms on his knees, laces his fingers around the coffee cup. He stares at the space between his toes. “I just…,” he begins, voice choked with insecurity. He doesn’t want to say it. In fact, he’d rather do just about anything else.

Because, after all, saying it means it’s real.

And if it’s real, then it’s a real problem.

“Listen,” Jin begins, patting Jungkook’s back. “I get it. Making music…it can be really tiring, right?” he says. Jungkook can only shrug. “And sometimes you might not feel like you can do it. Like you don’t have the inspiration.”

“Mm…”

Seokjin gives another pat, stronger this time. “But that’s how life is, Jungkook. Work doesn’t just wait. You’re an adult now. You’ve got adult responsibilities. And when you make a passion into your full-time job, you kinda sacrifice the freedom. Deadlines are a thing. You can’t just…be flippant and casual about it.”

“I’m not being casual,” says Jungkook, and for the first time since Jin walked in his voice is strong and steady. He sits up straight and meets Jin’s imploring eyes.

Seokjin offers a small smile. “Good,” he says. “I trust you. And, you know, you’ve got a whole team of producers behind you who wanna see you succeed. All you’ve gotta do is call.”

“I know.”

“You’re not doing it alone, alright?” he asks, and Jungkook’s throat tightens a little. “That’s the good thing about making your passion into your full-time job, huh? Now…well, now it’s not just your responsibility. It’s divided.”

“Yeah.”

“Well…,” Seokjin says, patting his thighs as he pushes to his feet. “Just wanted to drop by and check on you.”

Jungkook offers a smile and nods, standing with his manager. “Yup.”

“You do remember what’s on deck for tomorrow, right?” asks Seokjin, cocking a brow as he takes another swig of coffee.

Jungkook nods again. “Screen test with the drama people.”

Jin smacks the side of Jungkook’s head and crosses his arms. “Not the drama people!” he says, rolling his eyes. “It’s IJBC.”

“IJBC, right,” Jungkook says as he tenderly rubs the side of his head. “I remember.”

“Do you even know the name of the drama?” The younger boy falls silent, sheepish. “It’s called Give Up Generation, Jungkook.”

“I remember,” Jungkook says, pouting a little. “I just…forgot for a minute.”

Jin can’t help chuckling. “Get to bed early then so you don’t have dark circles,” Jin says with a smile, nodding as he turns toward the door. “Ah!” Seokjin pivots around, casting a disdainful look over Jungkook’s shoulder at the foldout futon. He pulls a scowl. “Sleep at home tonight, will you?”

Jungkook chuckles. “Alright. Stop nagging now,” he says, patting Jin’s back as he guides him out the door and into the hallway. “Bye, Jin!” he calls, not awaiting a response.

Slowly and with his head down, Jungkook shuffles back inside and slumps into his gaming chair, staring at his screensaver. He heaves a deep down sigh, lets it escape through his lips nearly pinched shut. Like exhaling cigarette smoke.

His phone pings to life with an incoming message.

SuperNova: Alright, I had your back before but I don’t cosign the Noona Agenda. I don’t even know if I am your noona.

Lolovely: seconded.

Lolovely: plus it’s icky.

TikiTikiRoom: boooooo

SuperNova: Wait, I think I just heard something in the hallway. Hold on.

Lolovely: SCARY!

TikiTikiRoom: burglars lol

Lolovely: ctrl z yourself, tiki

Lolovely: what if it is though…?

TikiTikiRoom: doubt it.

SuperNova: !!!

SuperNova: Lol it was a package…?

Lolovely: so late…?

SuperNova: Yeah…Lemme open it hold on.

The next message that comes through is a photo you send. Jungkook sits up straighter, opens it quick, and grins once he realizes what it is. A cardboard box, relatively big, sitting torn open on your kitchen floor, the photo features a look inside at several pretty makeup palettes and brushes. Jungkook doesn’t know the names of everything he sees, but he knows why it’s a big deal.

SacredSapphire: !! they finally sent it!!

SuperNova: They did!!

Lolovely: wait what? what did who send?

SuperNova: Lol, sorry. Uh I guess I only told Saph. But the brand I’ve been communicating with actually sent me a PR package! I’m gonna use it on my next job.

SuperNova: This shit’s super expensive too, so I’m lucky I’ve been in contact with a rep.

SuperNova: Gotta use the best to be the best!

TikiTikiRoom: i forgot ur a makeup artist lol

TikiTikiRoom: .-.

SuperNova: …

SuperNova: We’ve been group mates for like four months jfc

SuperNova: Anyway, yeah I’m glad. I guess they sent it to the wrong apartment? So my neighbor brought it over. He just got back from work.

Lolovely: neighbor?

Lolovely: cute neighbor?

SuperNova: He’s like seventy so no, not really my type.

SacredSapphire: nova, that’s super cool. i’m sure you’re gonna get big gigs soon.

SuperNova: Well, I can hope haha.

SuperNova: No, well…all I can do is work hard.

SuperNova: >:-)

All you can do is work hard, huh?

Jungkook tosses his phone to the side and rubs his hands up and down his face. He pinches his eyes shut and relaxes into the back of his chair, feeling the lull of sleepiness finally pulling at him.

And instead of going home like Jin asked, Jungkook simply pads over to the futon and, without moving the blankets, collapses atop them and falls asleep where he falls.

“I’m very sorry.”

“No…uh, no it’s fine.”

“Of course, you can keep the fees or whatever.”

“Oh, um, I…no, I’ll refund those too.”

“Really? I’ll give you a really good review!”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m really sorry.”

You sigh, plant a hand on your forehead and heave a sigh. Forcing a smile, you shake your head and press your phone into the crook of your shoulder, bending down to give your fiddle-leaf fig a hose down with your watering can.

“It’s fine. Things come up, you know?”

The girl on the other side of the phone, a young independent model going in for headshots, had called you an hour ago and had spoken at length about why she has to cancel her appointment with you today. How the photographer did this or that, how she actually watched a few tutorials online and figured she could do it herself, how she felt so so bad. You feel bad for her, of course. Kind of.

“Listen, I’ll give you a shoutout on my page, alright? I’ll tag you in my story,” she says.

You shake your head. “No, that’s fine. Just, um…you know, take care. Remember to clean your brushes.”

At this, she laughs. “Thanks for being so cool. I was actually super nervous to call and cancel. I’ve had to cancel a few things like this before, and I’ve had bad experiences,” she says. “Anyway, I’ll recommend you!”

“Alright.”

“Thanks!”

You nod as she hangs up the phone. Gently, you rise to your feet and set your watering can aside on the kitchen table. You set the phone beside it, pausing to glare at the black screen. Well…there goes your Sunday. You turn over your shoulder, pad to the window, crack it open a little. A bracing breeze whistles through, cooling your skin. You shut your eyes against it — only for a moment — before you turn on your heel, shove your feet into your sneakers sockless, swipe your phone and house keys, and shove out the door.

The florist’s is a healthy walk away, but the weather is nice enough and you’re too tired to brave the subway even if it’s only a few stops. You pass buildings and parks as the landscape becomes more and more urban and the high rises look like they could puncture the cloud layer. Before long, you’re standing in front of Happy Garden and, stepping through the sliding doors that are always left open and all-but nonfunctioning with the lush green plants climbing all around. You breathe a sigh of relief, pat your chest a little as the fresh, grassy scent settles your heart.

You aren’t there for more than half a minute before Hoseok stumbles out from the back room, grinning wide with a bouquet of hydrangeas in his hands, wrapped in butcher paper and twine. He curves around the stumbling greenery littering every surface and encroaching on every walkway and comes to a stop in front of you. He smiles.

“Hey,” you say before he gets the chance. You hold up one limp hand in a lazy wave.

He glances up and down, from your head to your toes, and sighs. Still holding the hydrangeas, he rests a hip on the checkout counter and cocks a brow.

“That is the opposite of encouraging,” you remark with a scowl.

He chuckles, pats your arm. “What’s up?” He jerks his head toward the front of the store where bouquets are displayed and you follow behind him as he leads you there. “Unsuccessful raid?”

“Contrary to popular belief, my life doesn’t revolve around video games, actually,” you say, but his laugh wipes the grimace from your face.

His fluffy hair bounces as he bends down to add the hydrangeas to the display and when he stands upright once more he crosses his arms. “You know what I mean. You’ve been in here a lot lately.”

“Pardon me for trying to raise plants,” you say with a pout.

Again, he laughs. “Jesus, stop trying to pick a fight!” he says. “You must be in a really bad mood if you’re here acting like this.”

“Well what’s that supposed to mean?” you begin, outrage all over your face, before locking eyes with Hoseok and composing yourself. You sigh, nod your head. “Yeah, no I’m being annoying.”

He smiles, heart-shaped, and the apples of his cheeks grow rounder. What a joyful guy, you think to yourself with a wistful sigh. “Tell me about it then.”

He pulls one of the empty display boxes over and offers you a seat as he begins tending to the plants all around. You oblige, settle in, and sigh again. “It’s just…everything kinda feels like a dead end right now.”

“Hm?” he asks over his shoulder, graceful hands guiding a waxy leaf back in place.

“Like with my work,” you say, then shake your head. “No, that’s not it. Not entirely.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like…things are okay, you know? I’m getting PR gifts. I’m growing my following on Instagram. I’ve got consistent clients,” you say, nodding. “Like everything is fine, you know?”

“But something feels…missing maybe?” Hoseok offers as he moves to spraying the ferns with water.

You shake your head. “More than that, it’s…like, I feel like I’ve hit the ceiling of what I can do, you know? Like what if this is the best I’ll ever do?”

“Is that bad?” he asks.

You sigh. “Not bad, just…disappointing,” you say. “I wanna work on movies. Red carpets. Editorials.” You rest your chin in your hand and your elbow on your knee. You stare up at Hoseok, now trimming brown leaves from another plant across the store. “I don’t wanna be stuck doing birthday parties forever.”

Hoseok hums, turns toward you with his hands in his apron pocket. He offers a smile. “You sound like a brat.”

You stiffen, eyes wide. “I-,” you start, but there’s really not much you can say to retort. So, softly, you slump once more and shrug. “Yeah…”

“And if you keep that attitude, you’re never gonna be an editorial makeup artist. I can promise you that,” he says with a nod as he approaches once more and crouches before your knees, still smiling. “Everyone has to grow somehow, you know? Be grateful you’ve got opportunities to build your resume.”

You nod. “Yeah.”

“What brought all of this on?”

Shrugging, you glance away toward the big croton plant in the corner, basking in morning sunlight, leaves all stiff and red and green. It’s a pretty plant. You tilt your head to the side, stare longer.

“That model bailed,” you say, but you’ve almost forgotten the self-pity of a moment ago. You stand to your feet and wander toward the plant, hitting halfway up your thigh. You crouch before it and look it over. “Hoseok, this is a really big croton.”

He laughs. “Mhm.”

“How much?”

“With the pot and given its height, it’s going for thirty-five-thousand won.”

You raise your brows. “I expected worse.”

“We’re fair here!” he protests, wagging his finger at you as he comes to stand beside you.

You smile softly, run a finger along the edge of a leaf. “It’s really pretty.”

“Suits you,” he says.

Without noticing, your anxiety begins to subside. “I think I’ll take it.”

“I’ll give you five-thousand off since you’re having a bad day,” he says, patting your back.

You turn to him with a smile. “Thanks.”

He chuckles. “I’ll loan you the dolly so you can get that thing home. Just bring it back before two.”

You stand up, stare down at the plant, nod once. “Mhm.”

Hoseok makes his way toward the cash register, punches in a few numbers. You linger a few steps behind, still staring at the croton. You get a good feeling off that one. Hoseok would tease you if you said as much, but you know when to listen to your intuition.

“Your big break will come Y/N,” Hoseok says as he rings you up, not once glancing to meet your eyes. “Just keep going.”

Jungkook sits with his head leaning against the rattling van window, eyes half-shut. Seoul blurs past him in shades of silvery grey and it’s all he can do to keep himself from falling asleep. For all his nagging, Seokjin had been right about one thing: Jungkook was sporting purplish bags beneath his eyes from a restless night’s sleep. Jin sits beside him now, frowning at his phone as he scrolls through Twitter. He’d given Jungkook a very stern talking to once he’d seen him, and really Jungkook deserved it. He knows that.

“Your voice is in good condition, right?” asks Jin.

Jungkook sits up straight, clears his throat. He shrugs. “Yeah. Why?”

Still stewing over his phone, Seokjin waves his hand without looking up. “Don’t worry about it.”

Jungkook sighs, leans back once more, gazes out the window once more. His phone buzzes once and he grabs it quickly, eager to distract himself.

BeastSlayers™

SuperNova: [image attached]

SuperNova: check him out OJO

Jungkook clicks the image you sent and chuckles as it loads up. The photo features nothing of you save for one hand, reaching out from behind the camera, throwing up a peace sign. Behind your hand, a houseplant. A pretty big one at that.

Jungkook smiles and drafts his reply, but the others are quicker.

CodenameZer0: Another plant? Lol isn’t your apartment overflowing with them by now?

SuperNova: Hush. Look at him.

LoLovely: cute!

LoLovely: does he have a name?

SuperNova: I don’t name my plants.

TikiTikiRoom: lol

TikiTikiRoom: because THAT would be weird

CodenameZer0: At least Nova can care care for a plant in the first place.

CodenameZer0: Let’s be honest here, Nova’s probably the only one among us who is even remotely responsible enough.

SacredSapphire: Nova it’s cute!

SacredSapphire: name him after me ;3

SuperNova: Sapphire?

SacredSapphire: hmmm say my name hehe

CodenameZer0: STOP IT FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST

CodenameZer0: IF THE FLIRTING DOESN’T STOP I’M GETTING YOU A TWO-WEEK BAN ON ARCANA

SacredSapphire: SHIT okay okay, let’s just take it easy

SacredSapphire: talk this out like adults…

SuperNova: Once I’ve finished setting up my new plant, I’m gonna play Animal Crossing. Anyone free to join? I’ve got oranges and mums.

SuperNova: Also had a meteor shower last night and have leftover star fragments first come first served.

The offer is tempting, to be sure. Not only would he receive star fragments, he’d be able to wander your island with the others. It might feel like you guys are side-by-side for real. Jungkook reaches into his backpack, slumped between his knees, and rifles around for his Switch. But as he produces the case, Seokjin shoots him the evil eye.

“If you’ve got time to play games, you’ve got time to review your lines,” he says, cocking a brow.

Jungkook sighs a little, slides the Switch back inside his bag. “I’ll look them over again.”

“Good.”

He takes one last look at his cell phone, checking the group chat with a frown that pinches the sides of his lips.

TikiTikiRoom: MEMEMEME

TikiTikiRoom: if any of you fakes get there before me ill go apeshit

TikiTikiRoom: i need so many

LoLovely: don’t need fragments, just wanna see ur cute face hehe

SuperNova: /blushes

SuperNova: I’ll open the gates once Sapphire Junior is nice and settled.

CodenameZer0: I’ll come too. I wanna shop.

SuperNova: Can’t you be cute like Lolita?

CodenameZer0: /gags

SuperNova: You coming, Saph? I’ll save a few fragments for you.

TikiTikiRoom: FAVORITISM

SuperNova: I am transparent about my favoritism toward Sapphire.

SuperNova: Because he is indeed my favorite.

LoLovely: *shocked pikachu face*

SacredSapphire: soz :-( i can’t

SacredSapphire: working

SuperNova: :-(

SuperNova: Next time we’ll all come to your island.

Jungkook tries not to feel that twinge of melancholy that tugs at his chest. That one he always gets when his friends go out for barbecue or grab drinks and hit the karaoke rooms. The one that feels like he’s really, deeply, fundamentally missing out on something important.

No, he doesn’t feel it. Instead, he focuses his attention on the printout Seokjin had given him three days ago. He scans the lines over and over, committing them to memory.

“No! That’s the thing, she didn’t even tell me!” says the girl below your brush.

You attempt to guide the highlighter across her cheekbones, but before you can make contact with her skin she’s jerked away once more, talking so animatedly that you can’t even tell if you’ve made her eyebrows even.

“That’s shitty,” says her friend beside her, likewise preoccupied as Jieun struggles to match her skintone.

The two of you lock eyes, both hovering over the two women as they chat over matching cups of coffee. Jieun puffs out her cheeks, raises her brows, and goes back to work, smoothing foundation on to the client’s chin with a brush.

You stand in a nice apartment — all marble floors and high ceilings and windowed walls overlooking Seoul. When you’d gotten the offer for a Seoul gig with Jieun, you’d been hesitant. The subway ride is long and you prefer to stay relatively local. But something made you agree. You don’t know exactly what. Call it divine intervention or epiphany or Jung Hoseok, but the words just keep going had been replaying in your brain since you last saw your friend. The pair of women — likely in their thirties — had booked both you and Jieun to do their makeup for a Sunday luncheon.

“And you know she’s looking out for him,” says Hyejin with a scoff. “As if I’m gonna bite the kid’s head off.”

“Maybe you will,” jokes the other woman, laughing just as Jieun reaches in to apply some liquid blush to her cheeks. “You know she’s got a soft spot for him.”

“Yeah well it’s a soft spot in all of our wallets if he doesn’t get his shit together,” says Hyejin, sighing. There is real woe in her expression and you can feel from the shift in atmosphere that things have turned serious. “He’s talented, you know? But…sometimes I think she goes too easy on him,” she continues, and this time her tone is decidedly softer, the movement of her face less pronounced.

You use the opportunity to work some powder beneath her eyes with a sponge. “Well, that’s motherhood for you,” says the other, flippant.

“Have you seen what the folks are saying on Twitter?” asks Hyejin as you apply shadow to her eyelids. “About his voice.”

“Hm?”

“Well some of his bigger hate communities have been compiling all the footage of his stage mistakes and they’re spreading it around,” Hyejin says with a huff. “Stupid, honestly. They’re making it out like he makes those mistakes all the time.”

“Netizens are like that, Hyejin,” says the other woman, now easing into her chair with her eyes shut as Jieun can finally get to work setting her base.

“Still…”

“Now you’re the one defending him,” she remarks with a laugh.

“It’s not that,” Hyejin says, scoffing. “It’s just…like if he doesn’t prove himself soon, all those commenters are gonna have more ammunition, you know? Which is annoying for all of us.”

“Sounds like you care a little bit.”

“I dont.”

“Hm.”

You focus on Hyejin’s full lashes, applying mascara with delicate, steady strokes. She hums a little as you use the pad of your fingertips to tame stubborn eyeshadow into blending more seamlessly. It seems, at least, that the conversation has died down. For that, you are very grateful.

“Say, do you two know anything about k-pop?” asks Jieun’s client.

The two of you lock eyes once more. It’s true that you are well-versed in pop culture: video games, TV shows, YouTube drama. But you’d be lying if you said you tune in to Inkigayo every week. And despite Jieun’s age and her trendy look, you know she’s not the type to keep updated on current idols. And you see in her brown eyes your own shock mirrored.

“Um…no, not particularly,” you answer for the both of you. Jieun releases a breath she’d been holding and smiles her thanks. “Do you two work in the field?”

Hyejin waves her hand and sighs. “Don’t go bothering them with those sorts of questions,” she says, and you notice for the first time the easy poshness that this woman has. Even with her head tilted back and her eyes shut tight, she seems sure of herself.

You envy her just a little for that.

“What? They’re young,” says the other woman, grinning with her eyes shut as Jieun works on her eyeliner. “You ever heard of RTE?”

“Hey now,” says Hyejin, warning in her voice.

“I’m just curious,” the woman continues with a sigh. “Look us up if you haven’t.” The woman chuckles, reaching out blind to smack Hyejin’s upper arm. “Hey, maybe even tweet something nice about our artists!”

“Knock it off and let them work,” Hyejin says, prying open one eye to meet yours. She offers a smile, apologetic, and sighs. “She’s just playing around. You can ignore her. It’s what I do.” She nods her head and leans it back once more.

Quietly, you get back to work. But you can’t help but feel like this woman’s incredible presence makes you paler somehow.

“What’s the point if it makes me unhappy?” Jungkook shouts, brows knitting, eyes growing watery. “The money, the lifestyle…what good is it?” his voice settles into a bare whisper, cracked.

“You only say that because you’re young! You’re stupid! You’re naive! You think things work out just because you want them bad enough?” says his costar, glancing down at the script every now and again as the two stand across from one another.

The set bustles on behind them, crew carrying tall lights and fixtures as they scuttle by. But Jungkook and his costar — a man named Namjoon acting as his older brother — continue their scene under the watchful eye of the cameras, trained right on them. Less of a screen test and more of a chemistry check between actors, Director Lim watches the monitor closely with his scrabbly chin in his palm.

“So what if I fail?” Jungkook asks with a quiver, referencing his script once to make sure he got the line right. “What’re you gonna do? Tattle on me to Dad?”

“I won’t have to,” Namjoon says, sighing as he grips the bridge of his nose. “He’s got his watchdogs trained right on you.”

Jungkook stiffens. “He’s been…following me?”

“I told you you’re too naive for the real world, Jiwon.”

Director Lim claps his hands and in an instant the tension and the scene are broken. Jungkook takes a respectful step back from his costar, and Namjoon offers him a bow of the head. Jungkook returns it, fighting off a nervous grin, and turns to the director as he circles around the equipment to stand in front of them. He’s a middle-aged man, handsome in a way with salt-and-pepper hair and eyes that seem to grab you and hold on like a snare. Jungkook is pinned in place like a bug in a shadowbox.

But Director Lim’s face splits in a crooked smile and Jungkook feels himself ease, exhaling long and slow. “Great job, boys!” he says, clapping both of their shoulders. “You were selling it well.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Jungkook replies too quick, like an eager child.

Director Lim chuckles, pats him again. “I’m praising you, kid. Don’t look so scared.”

He swallows hard. “I…I know. Um…thank you, Sir.”

Behind the trio, a group of stylists cart a rack of costumes quickly to the other side of the set, snagging the back of Jungkook’s shoe as they do. Jungkook stumbles to his knees, caught off guard, and the girls jerk to a stop as they catch themselves on the clothing rack. The two stare down at Jungkook, wide-eyed, and each of them covers their mouths. Immediately, they bow their heads in apology, both muttering sorry, so sorry almost too quietly to hear. Jungkook shakes his head and stands to his feet.

He too bows his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been standing there,” he says gently, hoping to assuage their concerns.

But the girls remain bowed, as if too afraid to even lift their heads. Jungkook, puzzled, leans down slightly to meet their eyes, but they glance away so quickly that he can’t even get a proper look at either of their faces.

“Um…it’s really not a problem,” he says, but before he can say more Director Lim approaches with a grim severity in his eyes. Jungkook, quick to stand up straight and face the director, stutters a little as he settles himself in front of the stylists. “It’s no big deal,” he says to Director Lim, but it’s like the man can’t even hear him.

“We were distracted, Sir,” says one of the girls, raising her head slightly to meet Director Lim’s gaze. “We are very, very sorry.”

“It really isn’t-,” Jungkook begins.

“You think it’s appropriate to crash into my actors? In the middle of a conversation about their performance?” Lim asks, but it’s clear the question isn’t meant to be answered. His tone has shifted into something cold. “You could have very well injured Jungkook.”

“I’m fine-,”

“But what if you weren’t?”

Jungkook shuts his mouth, staring helpless at the girls as they both stand up straight once more, eyes on the floor and hands knitted in front of them. He feels a hand on his back between his shoulder blades and jumps a little, turning quick to find Namjoon standing close.

“Don’t,” is all he says, voice terse and so quiet Jungkook almost doesn’t hear it, before dropping his hand and taking a half step back.

Jungkook’s jaw clenches, his hands work into balls as he stares. The lighting is low, dramatic as if a scene composed by Lim himself. The two girls lift only their eyes to gaze up at him.

“We’re very, very sorry, Sir,” says one of the stylists, guiding a lock of dark hair behind her ear.

“Mhm,” he says, looming. “Make sure it doesn’t happen again. Can’t afford to replace two stylists and a makeup artist in the same week.”

Jungkook simply stares, Namjoon’s warning freezing through him like ice. His limbs feel leaden. And as the two girls rush off, dragging their rack behind them, Jungkook focuses again on Director Lim.

He swivels back around to the two actors with a bright, fatherly smile. “Pardon me,” he says, waving his hand with a warm laugh. “Gotta keep the crew in check otherwise they’ll slack off.”

“Ha,” Jungkook puffs out in response, smiling in turn.

Namjoon hums a little. “Why don’t we try the reconciliation scene?”

“What in the world do you mean?” Hyejin yells into her phone just as she ushers you into her apartment. You eye her as her face grows red, her brows coming together. “He’s not quitting!”

Hyejin pauses to offer you an apologetic smile. She’s dressed in a modest pajama dress, padding barefoot along the cool marble floors. She leans against the arm of a nice black leather sofa, raises a hand to her flushed cheek, looks at her toes with vexation. Carefully, you set your makeup kit on her kitchen island, meeting her eyes with raised brows as if asking permission. She waves her hand, nods once before pinching the bridge of her nose between her index finger and her thumb.

“Listen, we knew Lim was difficult. But this is a huge opportunity for his career.” Hyejin rubs her kneecap, massaging. Her short hair falls along the line of her jaw as she dips her head in a deep sigh. “I know you know that, Seokjin. But you’re his manager. You’ve gotta keep convincing him.”

You begin unpacking your things, setting them neatly along the edge of the countertop, and try not to eavesdrop as Hyejin continues letting out chopped sighs. You can hear her fidget around the apartment behind you. She’d called you again, only a few days later, to secure you for another important event. A meeting, she’d said. You didn’t want to agree. Wanted to say you were too busy, that the commute was too much.

“Hey,” she whispers behind you. You jump, but turn nonetheless to find her cupping one hand over the phone’s receiver. Her eyes are severe, jaw clenched. “How long can you stay? This call might take a while.”

You raise your brows, think back over your schedule. “Hm…,” you respond, then shake your head. “I’m free all day. But…when’s your meeting?”

She stiffens, eyes flashing to the clock on the oven. “Shit,” she mutters. She approaches you with a frown. “I’ve only got two hours to get everything ready—Yes! Yes, I’m still here Seokjin. Stop panicking, for Christ’s sake—,” she says, her shoulders pinching. She glances at you again. “Um…”

You glance around the apartment. It’s spotless, as usual. But you spy in the corner beside a massive potted umbrella tree a taupe pantsuit, hanging beside a steamer. You’d have thought someone in her position would have sent it to the cleaners to be properly steamed, but perhaps it had slipped her mind. With the way she’s pacing around the apartment, still dressed in her pajamas, you wonder if perhaps she’s not as put together as you thought.

“I’ll steam that,” you say with a nod, pointing to the suit.

She stares at you, wide-eyed. “Oh, no. You don’t have to do something like that-,”

You shake your head. “No problem. What else do you need done here?” you ask, consulting your wristwatch with a hum. “If we keep it light, I can have your makeup done in forty-five minutes.”

She blinks at you. “Uh…well…,” she begins, then jumps a little as a voice in the phone shouts loud enough for you to hear. “No! No! Can you relax? I’ll talk you through it in just a minute! I’ve gotta sort some things out,” she shouts back at the phone. She turns her attention back to you with a sheepish smile. “Um, I need to steam the suit, wrap the fruits — they’re a gift for the client —, call the restaurant to confirm the reservation, shine my shoes, organize our documents chronologically and set them up in a binder,” she says.

You have to admit that the sheer volume of busywork has you taken aback. But you steel yourself with a bracing sigh, nod once, and offer her a smile. “Consider it taken care of,” you say.

“Ah! I…I really feel bad dumping all of this on you,” she says, crossing her arms with knit brows. “Normally I’d have my assistant doing all of this, but she’s ill.”

“Not a problem,” you say, smiling once more. “Just take care of your phone call and leave the rest to me! As long as we’ve got forty-five minutes for makeup, we’ll be fine.”

She lets out a sigh that seems to deflate her, shoulders slumping as if in profound relief. She nods once, smiling, and turns on her heel. “I’ll be in my office, alright? I promise I’ll be out in time!”

You give one wave as she rushes through a clouded glass door and shuts it behind her. You roll up the sleeves of your sweater and get to work on the suit.

Two hours later, and you’re accompanying Hyejin out into the apartment hallway. She pauses as the door clicks shut, waiting for it to give a chime, and turns to you with a sigh. She looks pretty. You had to rush a bit once she emerged from her office, and after taking care of the other chores you found it difficult to focus on her makeup, but you’re proud enough of your work given the circumstances. You’ve managed to match her eyeshadow to her pantsuit with gentle oranges and reds.

Since you were rushing to finish everything in time, the two of you hadn’t had a chance to exchange words. Perhaps you are curious — just a little — about the emergency she had to quell over the phone. Or maybe you just want a proper thank you. So you linger beside her in the well-lit hallway, you let your eyes wander to a potted fern in the corner by the elevator, wait for Hyejin to say something.

“I’m sorry,” she says, sighing. She glances at you through her lashes.

Your eyes go wide. “Hm? What for?”

“For having you do all of that,” she says, flitting one manicured hand. “I feel guilty.”

You shake your head. “No,” you say with a smile. “It’s no problem at all, honestly. You had me booked for an hour and a half anyway.”

She sighs again. “I really feel bad.”

“Don’t worry about it…,” you say, eyeing her. She crosses her arms, vexed, and purses her lips a little. “Um…was that call about an artist?” you ask.

She snaps back to herself, glancing at you. “Oh? Yes. That was about our biggest artist actually,” she says. “I think I’ve got it taken care of though, thanks to you.” She guides the two of you to the elevator. “I’ll pay you extra, alright?”

You laugh. “No, no. It’s fine! I’m just glad it all worked out.”

She stares at you, scanning you for a very long moment as the elevator rises to your floor. You try not to fidget, not to shrink under her scrutiny, but you feel yourself recoiling just a little. Her gaze is intense, knowing, as if she can see right through you and she’s looking for something. And as the elevator arrives, she gives a hum that sounds contented and you wonder if she’s found it.

Jungkook glances around the empty pavilion, scanning the cobbled streets for any sign of escape. From above, a dark mage is laying waste to the small shanty town. Not a single player has ventured out this way, all following a lead in the Elysian Forest to the west. But after you had mentioned a tip you got from researching at the Library of Arcana, you’d suggested visiting the seaside nook on the far south of the map. A legendary evil slumbers hidden, you’d recited over voice chat with a laugh, Sounds about right.

Only now, Jungkook’s alone. His hands are sweaty around the controllers in his palms and the realistic graphics are serving only to make him more nervous as the mage swings low near the central fountain and sets off a spray of fire just in front of him. Jungkook can almost feel the heat.

Jungkook had set out to do some scouting. Nothing extreme. Just a simple peek about, seeing if he could find any clues. He sent a message to the group chat, but he hadn’t waited on a response before he signed in. He’d had no idea that the Big Bad herself would come flying from the fountain the moment he touched the water with his sword. And now she’s circling him like some sort of hawk. Quickly, Jungkook calls up his inventory menu and searches through his items. A few extra swords he picked up, some ritual herbs, his old chainmail armor, some healing potions and…

The fragment…

If this mage takes him out, he’ll end up dropping his entire inventory. Including the fragment.

And by the time he can make his way back over here, other players will have come running from the commotion.

And the fragment will be gone.

“Shit,” he hisses out, dismissing the menu and focusing back on the mage as she releases a chilling cackle.

The quaint village is smoking, with thatched roofs catching fire and whole storefronts crumbling into piles of simmering stone. The sky is nearly blotted out with ash, and all he can see is that mage, swirling around up there in billowing black robes and shiny white teeth exposed in a wicked grin.

Jungkook glances over his shoulder toward the street he’d taken in to the village, but it’s too smokey to see anything more than the outlines of ruined buildings. There’s no way he’ll be able to navigate his way out of here without a lantern. And if it’s this smokey, he’s absolutely positive that nearby players have noticed. Which means more competition.

And more people to snatch his fragment when he falls.

The mage gives a cry, shouts her line, “Not enough yet?!”, and swoops down at a dizzying pace. Jungkook stumbles back, but he’s not fast enough. She’s approaching in a dark blur, too quickly for him to counter. A flash of regret washes through him as he squeezes his eyes shut inside his VR headset. He doesn’t want to see this.

He waits for a tense moment that way, anticipating the melancholy piano chords that accompany in-game death, but none come. Instead, he hears very keenly the sound of the mage grunting as if in pain. And, in an instant, he opens his eyes wide to see standing on the other side of the fountain, a small, white-haired mage, staff searing with frost and ice as the dark mage clutches her chest.

His heart kicks up. “Nova!” he calls to you.

You turn toward him and, to the extent that you’re able in a video game, square him with a sour look. “You moron!” you shout back.

But he can’t help his grin as he stares at your character. “How’d you get here so fast?”

You launch another ball of ice toward the dark mage, sending her hovering just above the cobblestone in front of the fountain. “I saw your message and figured you’d already gone ahead like an idiot so I logged on right away.”

He laughs, but you’re too focused on dealing ice damage to reciprocate. It seems of all his allies, you’re the best equipped to deal with a dark fire mage. He notices in your hand the staff you wield has changed. Where before you used a gnarled tree root with a rune, now you’re swinging a cool white metal staff with a glowing blue gem.

“New staff!” he calls, pointing.

You nod. “Mhm. The schematic from last time,” you say, dealing another blast. The dark mage falls to the ground, groaning. Jungkook is too excited to see you to notice his cue to act, but your head is very much in the game and you jerk your staff toward the fallen mage. “Well? You gonna slash her or what?”

Jungkook stiffens, jumping back into action. He hoists his sword and lunges, giving the mage a few good hits before recoiling back as she rises into the sky once more. The dark mage sends out a barrage of wild, uncontrolled fire that manages to miss Jungkook and hit you.

“Shit!” you call, pausing to glance through your inventory like Jungkook had before. “Dammit! I’m out of health potions,” you say. He notices your health bar is looking low.

“Why are you so hurt?” he asks as you rush toward him.

You sigh. “I ran into some boars in the woods on the way over here and they drained my health a little.”

“Shit,” Jungkook repeats.

“Yeah,” you say, watching as the dark mage readies another spell. “This is why I wanted all of us to go here together.”

“I know,” Jungkook says, his cheeks flaring hot. “I’m sorry.”

You sigh again. “Don’t worry,” you say, flitting your hand. “I’m sure you didn’t mean to start the battle.”

Jungkook is quiet, thinking. You’d always been this way. From the first time the party played together, you’d been generous with him. With everyone. When Tiki fell in the party’s first battle against some goblins, you’d been the one to retrieve his stuff and give up your armor for him. When Zero — the richest player by far — forgot about your scheduled meeting to gather supplies, you’d paid for everyone’s health potions and weapon repairs in his stead.

He shook his head. “No, I shouldn’t have gone off on my own.”

“No you shouldn’t have,” you say, humming. “You need to remember you’ve got a whole team of people who have your back.” He can hear a smile in your voice.

“I-,” he begins, but you cut him off.

“Alright, here’s what we’ll do for now. She’s at half health, so I’ll just wail on her with my ice until she’s within melee range and then you slash her,” you say with a nod. “And if I fall, I fall. Hopefully by then she’ll be low enough health that you can finish her off alone.”

“No, no. If it comes down to it, I’ll take the hit. I’ve got more HP and you’re the one who can do ranged attacks anyway,” Jungkook replies.

There’s no more time to argue, however, because the dark mage turns her fiery eyes toward the two of you and screams before pointing her staff right at Jungkook. Startled, Jungkook glances over at you to see you’re watching too. Neither of you has a chance to say anything before the blast hits, sending the two of you flying back against the fronts of buildings turned to ashy rubble. You let out a shocked gasp through Jungkook’s headset and, as the dust settles, he turns to see your health bar is dangerously low.

“Oh!” he shouts, pulling up his inventory. “Let me grab a health potion! You can have it—,”

“Alright, now I’m pissed,” you interrupt, sidling up to the fountain with measured steps. You consult your inventory and heave a sigh. It seems like you’re mulling something over, but it’s impossible for Jungkook to know what exactly is on your mind. “Use your health potion, Saph!”

He stares at the back of your character’s head, at the capable set of its shoulders. And he feels somehow like he’s really looking at you. The real you. Silhouetted against grey smoke, with a dark mage glowing black and orange in the air above you, he can’t help but think you seem…really cool.

He recalls what you said before. That he has a team of people who have his back.

You grumble something under your breath before deftly swinging your staff around a few times and launching a powerful icy blast toward the mage. She cries out and before she can ready another spell, you’re hurling another ball her way.

“Whoa! Nova, how’re you doing that so fast?” he asks.

“Shut up and heal now!” you shout, and he’s quick to oblige.

You send another blast toward the mage’s chest, and it’s just enough to get her in melee range. But as you do, the staff you’re holding shatters and breaks into shards. The force of the break seems to have some kickback, and you take a few points of damage as you stumble back half a step. You’re down to your very last HP.

“Oh my God! Did it break?” Jungkook asks, stunned.

“Go hit her!” you bark.

Jungkook sends his character rushing the mage once more and gets in a few heavy hits with his sword, pressing furiously on the controllers and moving his arms about wildly in his chair.

He expects her to fly back into the air. Rinse and repeat until she’s finally dead. But this time, perhaps since she’s so low on health, the dark mage simply hovers in front of him. Quickly, she swings her staff back and rears it forward once more, the black orb embedded in the top glowing red.

“She’s gonna hit you!” you shout, and in his shock Jungkook can only turn to look at your character.

Before he can blink, however, you’ve blurred in front of him in a flash of white hair and when the dark mage deals a mighty, close-ranged fire attack, you take it straight to the stomach.

And just like that, your character blinks out of existence, spilling your entire unequipped inventory on the steaming cobblestones in front of Jungkook’s steel shoes.

“Nova?” he calls out, but of course you can’t answer. You’ve warped back to the nearest infirmary somewhere past the woods.

He curses underneath his breath and swings his sword a little wild once, twice, three times until, at last, the dark mage lay prone on the ground, wailing ghostly. She lets out one final scream before withering into pixels. And there, beside your lost inventory, is a canvas loot bag. Jungkook grabs it and pulls from inside a multi chrome shard, glinting in the light refracted through smoke. He examines it. There’s no doubt. It’s a Philosopher’s Stone fragment. Which means your hunch was right.

It also means your party it one step closer to completing the legendary stone, receiving more gold than any of you could ever spend, maxed out HP, and a permanent plaque in Central Square with all of your usernames.

Jungkook sighs as he puts it away in his inventory. He scans through the other loot. A crossbow, some alchemical herbs, and an Imperial Knight’s sword. He pockets everything and, pausing to save, immediately logs off and yanks the headset from his eyes. He drops his controllers, removes his gloves, and sets the sensor jacket aside as he reaches for his phone on his studio desk.

He types in your name in his contact list and calls you right away. Lucky for him, you answer on the second ring.

“Did you get her?” you ask, not sparing even a moment for hellos.

Jungkook stutters a little like an old engine firing up before replying, “Dude what the hell did you do that for?”

You sigh. “I figured you’d have a better shot killing her since I broke my staff.”

“Yeah, but why'd you break your staff?”

“How else were we gonna get her down?”

Jungkook is quiet for a moment. “You spent a long time crafting that, didn’t you?”

You hum. “Not too long.”

“Liar,” he says, but you don’t reply. After a few moments of silence, Jungkook sighs. “I got her.”

He hears you laugh through the phone, followed by a satisfied exhale. “Hell yeah! Then it was worth it.”

“I got the fragment too.”

“She had it!”

Jungkook can’t help but smile a little, staring at his computer screensaver. “Mhm,” he says. “Thanks for taking the hit. I would’ve dropped the first fragment if she’d gotten me.”

You pause. “Oh, you had the first fragment on you?” you ask.

And Jungkook realizes something crucial as the words come crackly through his phone. You didn’t know he was holding it. You didn’t know he could have lost it. You’d jumped in front of that mage not to save the fragment in Jungkook’s inventory, but to save him. He swallows hard, because the silly, stupid sentiment of it makes his eyes a little misty.

“Um…yeah, I did,” Jungkook says slowly, as if testing cold waters.

You sigh. “Why’d you go on your own anyway?”

Jungkook’s shoulders pinch like he’s been struck. Truthfully, he’d logged on after a particularly frustrating call with Seokjin. After begging his manager to let him out of his contract with IJBC, Jungkook had been forced not only to continue working with Director Lim, but to keep good behavior lest the company seize their promotions of his previous album. But after chatting with you, Jungkook’s work is the furthest thing from his mind.

“Um…some issues with my work were getting to me so I figured I’d scout around a little,” he says. “Sorry I didn’t wait for you guys to tell me not to go.”

You laugh. “Turned out okay in the end,” you say easily. “But…your work?”

“Yeah…”

You’re quiet for a moment. While the silence isn’t awkward, it certainly feels thoughtful. “You don’t talk much about your job, so…I guess I was just curious. Like…what sort of issues…,” you continue, voice trailing off.

Jungkook thinks for a moment. What can he safely share without divulging too much? “Um, it’s…like this guy I’m working for is just kind of a dick,” he says, nodding once. “He’s awful to the employees and he’s been firing staff who piss him off. Just the other day he almost fired two people because they ran into me.”

“Oh?” you say, pensive. “So you’re pretty high up then?” you start, then let out a soft grunt and a laugh. “Sorry, I’m prying. Um…he sounds awful. It’s been bothering you working for him?”

Jungkook nods and picks at the skin around his thumb. “Yeah,” he says. “It’s only for a few months, but if it’s this bad after only a few days I don’t really know what to expect. I’m thinking about quitting somehow.”

“Well,” you begin, and Jungkook can hear the sound of things shuffling on the other side of the phone. “Here’s how I see it. If you quit, that’s one less person looking out for the people below you, you know?”

“Hm?”

“Like…if you’re there, maybe you can do some good and prevent other people from getting fired. But if you’re gone, you can’t really help anyone,” you say, then sigh. “I dunno. Just…if you’re forced to work with the guy, I figure you can try to find a way to turn it around. Maybe make things better for the people under you.”

Jungkook is quiet for a long, pregnant moment. He lets your words seep into his skin like a plant photosynthesizing. He really chews on them. “I…I guess I hadn’t thought about that.”

You hum. “It’s okay. I can understand how working with someone like that would be really hard,” you say. “But…imagine how hard it is for the people who can’t just up and leave? The folks who have to sit there and take it and don’t have the option to quit, you know?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook says, brows furrowing. He crosses his arms. “That’s true.”

“I mean, obviously you’re an adult and can do whatever you want, but…I dunno, I guess it would be pretty cool of you to stick around and try to help where you can,” you say. Before Jungkook can respond, however, you gasp. “Oh! I got a text from a client.”

“Oh? Who?” he asks.

“Ah, a woman named Kim Hyejin. She works for some entertainment company or something,” you say, and Jungkook’s blood runs cold.

Kim Hyejin. As in Rooftop Entertainment’s Kim Hyejin? As in Jungkook’s manager’s boss? The reason Jungkook can’t quit? He shakes his head, swallows the lump that’s growing in his throat, tries to silence the incessant thumping in his heart. It can’t be her, right? Surely not. But…really, how many Kim Hyejin’s work for ‘some entertainment company’ and require personal makeup artists? Even if the name is common, that’s just too sensational.

“O-Oh…um…is she the client you saw this morning?” Jungkook asks, but his mouth feels cottony. If you, of all people, were to somehow find out about him…

He shakes his head to clear it.

“Mhm, hold on a sec I’m trying to read it,” you say.

Jungkook doesn’t want to hold on. He doesn’t want to sit and wait for you to answer. He wants to end the call and throw his phone on the futon. He wants to take a long walk around the company building. He wants to delete his Arcana account.

But something keeps him on the line, like a string wrapped around his chest. He’s captive to your every word, desperate to know what Kim Hyejin has to say to you. Has she perhaps found out about Jungkook’s online friends? About the Beast Slayers? About you? Is she reaching out to make you sign an NDA? Did she approach you under the pretense of getting her makeup done only to lure you into accepting some sort of bribe to keep his identity secret?

Is she going to force you to stop contacting him…?

“Holy shit,” you say under your breath.

“What? What is it?” Jungkook says, too quick, too breathless.

You scoff. “Holy shit.”

“Please tell me,” he begs, voice frail. His hands are shaking.

Just when he’s found a group of people who he can connect with, who he can play with, who he can feel comfortable with, something has to come in and ruin it. Jungkook’s heart aches with the dread of anticipation.

“Dude,” you begin, but he can tell you’re smiling. “She just offered me a job on a TV show.”

Jungkook feels that same chill from before creeping up his spine like frost across a windowpane. “What show?” he asks.

If not a premeditated approach, then this has to be…

“Give Up Generation.”

Some sort of divine joke.

#bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook fluff #bts fluff #bts angst #bts au #jungkook au #bts jungkook #jungkook angst #bts reaction #bts reactions #bts imagine #bts imagines #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines

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hanniiesuckle17 · 5 years

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Brains or Muscles

a/n: this will be the first of my descendants series for skz! comment if you want a part 2 or which boy you want next!! idk why i did this in third person

Stray Kids as Descendants

WARNINGS: n/a........it is so weird to type that for me

Summary: Jeongin has always been quite quiet. He was one of the Descendants who tended to slip into the background. His parents weren't considered royalty in Auradon and he mostly kept to himself besides occasionally talking to Cinderella's son, Bangchan. He most certainly didn't expect the daughter of Hercules to talk to him one day.

Genre: descendants!au, nerd&jock!au, romance, fluff

Jeongin took after his mother, Kida in every aspect except for the fact that Jeongin was not brave. He was not strong, and he certainly was not a leader. While his appearance was his mother's, his personality was much like his father, Milo's. His head was almost always buried in a book, and punctuality was certainly not his specialty.

Such as now.

The white haired boy sprinted into Auradon prep, papers flying behind him. Jeongin had spent most of the previous night entranced in some maps his father had sent him. He didn't mean to oversleep, he had set an alarm.........he was pretty sure he set an alarm.

"Second warning, Jeongin!" Fairy Godmother yelled as a flash of white and blue raced passed her. Just as the bell tolled across the campus, Jeongin burst into his History of Auradon class. The teacher sighed and motioned for him to sit down and with a bright red blush on his ears and cheeks, he did.

Nervously he looked around, trying to see if anyone was watching him, laughing at him. Everyone seemed to turn back to the lecture except for one pair of eyes. A small smirk perched on the girl's lips and she had a sort of twinkle in her eye. Quickly he looked away before his cheeks turned a deeper red.

He had often seen her with Chan, Cinderella's son. Chan needed tutoring sometimes and Jeongin was always happy to help after Chan's practice had ended. He wasn't sure of their relationship, but he knew that the girl, Y/n was one of the only two girls in the history of Auradon to be put on the Tourney team. It was a brutal sport, one that only a daughter of Hercules would be thrilled to play. And.....some part of him wanted to be apart of it too.

Jeongin didn't have many friends. He wasn't part of any club. He mostly kept to himself, his studies, and his maps. But there was this deep desire to be part of that team. At first he thought maybe he just wanted to have some more friends. But the more he watched the practices and watched the team, he couldn't take his eyes off of her.

She was so strong and powerful. He honestly thought it made her more beautiful. He had heard some of the other girls in school shame Y/n for even trying out for the team.

Something about her fascinated him. Like she was a map with a secret for him to find. Jeongin's day continued as normal. At four o'clock he went to the field where he waited for Chan in the bleachers. Tourney practice was just ending and two figures started climbing the stairs toward Jeongin. His heart stopped when he saw Y/n coming up with Chan. She had her H/c pushed back and beads of sweat lay on her forehead making her skin have a shimmering effect in the sunlight.

"Jeongin! You didn't wait long did you?" Chan clapped him on the back with a smile. "No. Of course not. Not at all." His words stumbled out of his mouth as if they were tripping over themselves. "It was a great practice. You were fantastic, Y/n." She looked surprise at the mention of her name. In all honesty she did not think Jeongin would want to talk to her. Most boys that weren't on the team were too intimidated by her. "Oh....um thanks. Jeongin right? You're the one keeping this idiot on the team?"

He couldn't do much else but nod. "Do you like Tourney?" Jeongin mentally cursed himself for simply nodding again. His mother would be appalled at his actions.

"Why don't you try out then?"

"Jeongin? Play Tourney? Y/n have you seen him? No offense, Innie." Jeongin blushed at Chan's nickname for him. His shoes suddenly became very fascinating.

"Seriously. A few weeks of training and I bet I could get him in your position, Mr. Linebacker."

"I will gladly take that bet."

"The usual then?"

"Of course."

They shook hands and she smirked. Before Jeongin could react Y/n had take the books in his arms and shoved them at Chan. "I'll be taking your tutor then." She threw and arm over Jeongin's shoulder and guided the two of them down the steps.

"Wait whose going to tutor me?"

"Ask Seungmin!!"

"YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!"

That night Jeongin sat on his bed in sweats and a t-shirt looking over another of his dad's maps. Woojin his roommate had long gone to sleep and was snoring quietly on the other side of the room.

A knock broke the silence of the room. No one ever came this late, not even room checks. Usually Woojin's friends left about ten. Maybe one of them forgot something?

Jeongin winced as his bare feet padded against the freezing wood floor. Opening the door he found Y/n standing with a bright smile. "Do you have the wrong room number?" She couldn't possibly be looking for him.....could she?

"No. This is your room." Jeongin stood in confused silence for a seconds before again asking a question. "Is this about the history notes? Cause I can give you mine." As he turned back into the room she stopped him. "Do you not remember this afternoon?"

"You weren't joking?"

"Do you think I would casually bet The Suspicious Purchase?"

"What's The Suspicious Purchase?"

She shrugged and tugged on his wrist. "I'll tell you later. Come on! We have training to do." Y/n dragged Jeongin down the hall, a big smile plastered on her face.

The night air was cool and a warm spring wind blew across their faces. Jeongin quietly followed the girl he had admired from afar all the way to the Tourney field. The lights were on illuminating the bright green grass. Y/n turned to the boy with white hair when they had reached the edge of the field. She couldn't help but notice the sharp angles of the boy's face which were hidden by his large round spectacles.

"Take off the hoodie. Let's see what we have to work with." Nervously Jeongin removed the hoodie and stood in a tank top that he hoped he had remembered to wash. She eyed him up and down and made a circle around him as well.

He was nervous.

He had already spent more time and said more words to her than ever before. She was quite pleasantly surprised to find a little bit of muscle on the boy. She tried to ignore how cute he looked in something other than a button up. "Okay! You know the rules of Tourney, yes?" Jeongin nodded with a smile. "My mom loves Tourney." The smile didn't go unnoticed by Y/n at the mention of his mother.

"Whose your mother?"

"Kida."

"That explains the hair."

They both chuckled before returning to an awkward silence. Jeongin kept asking himself what his mother would say. She always knew exactly the right thing to say and never doubted her words or confidence.

However it was Y/n to break the silence. "I thought we could start with the track to get your endurance up." Jeongin nodded once again with a smile and followed her to the track that bordered the field. "You don't talk much do you?" A blush creeped up his cheeks as they started to jog. "Sorry...I'm just not used to having someone to talk to."

His words stuck with her. She recalled every time she had seen him. Each time he was alone. No friends. He was always by himself. "Well now you do. And you better not leave anything out." She chuckled and nudged his arm.

For the next hour she trained him for try outs. Jeongin struggled but he put on a brave face and did everything she asked with a smile. He knew that in the end this would be good for him. Not only would he be on the team, but he would be closer to Y/n.

She kept him talking the entire time. Jeongin couldn't quite understand what she found so interesting about him. Truly Y/n wanted to know the boy. He was always so quiet and shy. She hated seeing him left out of groups at school.

Every night for the next two weeks she came to his door. They would train together. She never left him behind and always made sure he was going at his own pace. And a funny thing happened. People started noticing Jeongin. Maybe it was this new glow he had about him. Or how he felt more confident in his body. Or maybe it was the fact that Y/n walked down the hall with him everyday without fail. Jeongin was happy. He had friends and people actually liked talking to him. He even got quite close to Y/n’s brother, Changbin.

The night before tryouts however, Y/n didn’t show up at his dorm. Woojin had gotten quite used to his roommate going out so he often stayed up until he left. “Maybe she thought you didn’t need anymore training?” Jeongin shook his head as he watched the door, shoulders slumped and heavy. She had confirmed the time with him earlier that day. The clock chimed one and Jeongin shot up from his bed and threw on his jacket. “Where are you going?”

“To find Y/n.”

The white haired boy wandered the dark halls looking for her room number. He knew she shared a room with Jasmine and Pocahontas's daughters, but what was the number again?

After walking up and down the corridor he finally found the right room. Hesitantly, he knocked on the door. He pushed his doubts away as the wooden door opened. But, it wasn’t the girl he wanted to see. Serina, Jasmine’s daughter opened the door with a sickeningly sweet smile on her face.

“Oh. Well isn’t this unexpected.”

Her voice was dripping with sarcasm. “You’re here for the tramp?” His face twisted at the word. Was this normal for girls? He didn’t know. “One minute, blondie.” She left the frame, but her voice could be heard in the hall.

“Hey Tramp! One of your boyfriends is at the door. You’d better go see him.”

The laughter that followed stabbed at his heart and his smile started to fall from his face. It dropped completely when he saw Y/n’s form shuffle to the door, her head down in shame.

“Jeongin....now’s not a good time. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Jeongin had to stop her from closing the door on him. His mind tried to desperately find an excuse for her to come out with him. “My dad...he-uh....just sent me a new map. I was wondering if you wanted to check it out with me.” Jeongin’s eyes glanced behind her to the two girls who were doing nothing to hide their laughter.

“Please?” He asked once more.

Slowly she lifted her head and Jeongin tried to keep a straight face when he saw her tears.Y/n nodded slowly and closed the door without a sound. The two students walked in silence, not particularly going anywhere. Each thought they were following the other, but somehow both ended up at the center of the Tourney field again.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Her hair blew in the night wind as she faced away from Jeongin. "It's fine." Was all she said. But Jeongin knew. He had said those words many times before and it never meant what he said.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." He was met with silence. Looking around he saw a pair of the focus mitts lying on the bench. He picked them up and began slipping his hands into the back slot. He tapped her shoulder gently, with a small smile.

"Come on! Give me a tap."

With a sad laugh she wiped her tears away. She gave the pad a little love tap and then looked at Jeongin.

"No. For real. You can do better than that."

She hit it a little harder this time. She watched Jeongin shake his head with a tiny smile. The next time she hit the pad hard enough for Jeongin's hand to recoil the tiniest bit.

"You are the daughter of Hercules. I know you can do better. Come on!"

Y/n stared at the gloves for a moment and the sadness came back into her eyes. With the swiftness only a demigod could have she struck the glove again and again. Her final punch sent Jeongin flying twenty feet back.

"OH MY GOD, JEONGIN! I AM SO SORRY!"

"It's fine!"

She ran over and kneeled next to the boy as he lay on the ground. Frantically she took off the gloves and checked every bone in his hands. Jeongin watched her intently as she held his hand with such care. Worriedly she helped him sit up and winced with him when she pushed to hard on his shoulder.

"Do you feel better?" The blonde boy said with a genuine smile that lit up the night. She nodded and looked into Jeongin's eyes. "Thank you." Without thinking about it she brought her lips to his cheek to place a chaste kiss on his skin. It was like an instinct from a past life that felt natural and safe in the moment.

She froze when she realized what she had done. Jeongin's eyes turned to saucers and every muscle in his body went rigid and he could feel his heartbeat pulsing in every part of him. He hoped to God it was too dark to see the bright red blush on his ears and cheeks.

"I am so sorry!"

"No-no it's....it's fine....I uh-"

There was an awkward silence and each of them were hoping the other didn't see the heat on their cheeks. Each were hoping the other would speak. Each were hoping the other would make the next move.

"Y/n?"

"Yes, Jeongin?"

"Umm.....could you maybe close your eyes for a second?"

"Umm....okay...."

Hesitantly she closed her eyes and Jeongin couldn't help but take in every single aspect of her face. The lines of her nose. The angle in her cheeks. The creases near her eyes. He did something he never though he could.

He kissed her.

Y/n wasn't surprised when she felt his lips on hers. She couldn't help but smile at how gentle and soft the kiss was. He flinched away slightly when her hand placed itself on his chest just below his shoulder. To his surprise she didn't pull away, instead she returned his kiss ten fold.

After a moment he pulled away and looked down at the field. Y/n couldn't stop the blush on her cheeks from the moment they had shared and she smiled even wider when she caught glimpse of the cute grin Jeongin was trying to hide.

"Can I walk you back to your room?"

"I would love that."

Like a gentleman Jeongin took her hand and helped her off the ground and he didn't let go of it as the two started walking back to the dorms.

The morning of try outs Jeongin ran joyfully to the Tourney field. His shy grin fell into place on his lips when he saw Y/n waving to him near Chan and her brother. A flush came over his ears when she greeted him with a happy kiss, her arms draping around his neck.

“Well....that’s new.”

Both boys looked at the pair in question and shock. Changbin eyed Jeongin up and down in a way only a brother could. “So, Jeongin, are you ready for try outs?” A smirk played on Chan’s lips. Before Jeongin could slip into old habits Y/n placed a hand on his chest and looked up at him. “Of course. He’s got this in the bag. You better watch out, Chan. He’s coming for your spot.”

Chan scoffed as the coach’s whistle blew calling all players to the field.With a smile Y/n sent Jeongin off and joined the two boys on the bleachers to watch. She watched with pride as Jeongin passed through each tier with ease. She could see the smile on his face as he played the scrimmage and cheered loudly anytime the white haired boy scored or completed a tackle.

Beside her Chan was dumbfounded at the sheer force and speed the skinny boy had. The second the coach blew the final whistle he knew he was screwed. Head in his hands Changbin and Y/n dragged him onto the field to hear the results. Jeongin found reassurance in Y/n’s words and the grip she held on his gloved hand.

“New team members are as follows.”

He held his breath.

“Byun Baekhyun; Goalie.”

Y/n rubbed her thumb over his hand.

“Yang Jeongin; Linebacker. Thank you all for trying out. See you at practice on Tuesday.”

Y/n screamed and turned to Jeongin with the brightest smile her brother had ever seen her wear. “You did it!” He was still shocked as he embraced her. The team came over and congratulated the new members with excitement. Chan’s face fell when Y/n turned to him with an impish grin.

“Chan, we should get going shouldn’t we? I forgot that I need to go shopping!”

Ten minutes later Chan, Y/n, Jeongin, and Changbin piled out of her car into the most busiest grocery store parking lot. “Why are we here again?” Jeongin whispered to Bin. “This is their usual punishment for losing a bet.”

Jeongin followed silently behind Y/n as she led the boys down an aisle. The devilish look returned on her face when she pulled three items off various shelves. His eyes widened when she shoved them into Chan’s arms.

“Check out on your card, no talking. Oh and don’t forget to smile.” With a dejected sigh Chan stepped into the busiest line and groaned when he saw a girl, specifically the daughter of Dr. Facilier, who Chan had grown a crush on. Y/n and her brother laughed at their luck as the watched near the exit.

Jeongin just watched still not fully understanding the punishment. With the most innocent and largest smile he had seen Chan put the biggest cucumber they could find, condoms, and lube on the conveyor. You could see the heat on his ears and the sweat on his forehead as he tried to keep the smile.

The girl looked up at him with an arched eyebrow as she saw the items roll down the conveyor. “You Auradon kids are weird.” She rang him up and chuckled as he took the bag not dropping the smile. Jeongin couldn’t help but laugh two as Chan turned and walked towards them with tears almost in his eyes.

Y/n and Changbin fell onto the floor in a fit of laughter muttering incoherent sentences. After they had calmed down Jeongin helped her up and took her hand as they exited the store.

“What’s with that smile?” She asked as the setting sun illuminated the boy’s face in a golden orange glow. He turned towards her and looked at the girl he was lucky to call his now.

“I just feel comfortable being myself around you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I don’t feel like I have to be my mother or my father when I’m with you. I just feel like me.”

“Well....I think I like you.”

Jeongin smiled and leaned down to connect their lips in Auradon’s last few minutes of setting sun.

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dyketectivecomics · 4 years

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Randy’s Ultimate Birds of Prey Review (first thoughts)

I want to preface this by waxing just a little poetic here, because I can. The true spirit of the Birds of Prey has been and will always be in the way women love and support one another. As friends, as teammates, as sisters-in-arms against whatever the world throws at them. And while not every comic, not every story, will be Completely Outstanding or without fault, I can say with certainty that when given to competent writers and loving artists, to diligent crews and hard-working casts, that that spirit is seen and felt just as strongly.

First we’ll be tackling the comics, separating them mostly by run (with Dixon to start, the Simone’s turn at the line to follow, then 2010, New52, and BatBoP). Then we’ll discuss the two separate forays into live-action that the Birds have taken (BoP02, and BoP20 respectively) And to finish it all off, we’ll take a prospective look at HQatBoP, given that (at the time of this posting) it has only one issue, and more than enough untapped potential. To keep myself focused and keep things hopefully brief, we’ll be discussing each run’s Line-Up, Writing and Art, and finally overall Plot/Character Development. I will also try to keep things as spoiler-free as possible, but it’s also been a decade since some of this stuff was written, so... YKNOW Spoiler Caution Advised.

Without Further Ado, Let’s Fly~

The Dixon Era:

The Line-Up

As the Definitive Starting Point for the team, this era is marked most notably by the sole members, Dinah and Babs, and their numerous memorable one-off adventures. They are joined on a few occasions by other heroes. Or, while working separately from one another, will team-up with others as they lead their individual lives. The core of this budding ‘team’ remains as a duo for the majority of this part of the run, however.

The Talent

Dixon and his writing is not without faults, of course, as any given international mission could fall prey to stereotypical archetypes and pitfalls. For the most part, Dixon’s writing remains among some of the most entertaining I’ve found, comparatively speaking. With a knack for wisecracks and poignant thoughts alike, I find myself looking forward to more of his work, with a great sense of cautious optimism.

The art, in this same vein, can be also be hit or miss at times, just as much as exploitative panels/questionable dialogue make their inevitable way in. I cannot recall anything outright offensive or demeaning, but one should approach with measured expectations.

The Development

Easy to follow along, but with plenty of twists and turns to keep me interested in the direction any given mystery would lead our duo. The banter and camaraderie that’s slowly and surely built up between Dinah and Babs had me falling ever more in love with their dynamic and with their bond as they grew to not only work well with one another, but into becoming fast friends. The focus is in the development of these characters and this new season of life they find themselves in, rather than grand-sweeping, or long-running plots. But with fun enough jaunts and adventures regardless, I already find myself looking forward to rereading these issues in the near-future.

It is important to note, that in the interim between these two general eras i have marked, that there are numerous Other Writers that took their own cracks during this particular run of BoP, both preceding and superseding Simone. As she and Dixon have the longer-running pens, and that they have the most notable influence in the fandom consciousness, is the biggest reason for why i’ve named these sections as such.

Simone’s Turn:

The Line-Up

A Turning Point for not only the run itself, but the group dynamics as well! This era is marked by the permanent reintroduction of Huntress onto the team, Lady Blackhawk being another quick to follow, and the team’s subsequent rotating cast expanding to many heroines beyond as well. Simone’s writing doesn’t miss a beat in the banter, however, and takes the team from Dixon just as steadily as runners pass a baton.

The Talent

Again, the writing itself usually never misses a beat, and the art, as memory serves, carried very well alongside it, something most usually without offense and downright enjoyable in some places to pour over. While there were certainly some moments and dialogue that gave me pause, for the greater majority of this run, one can expect entertainment, nonetheless.

The Development

While the preceding run had focused moreso on interesting stories and one-off adventures, here is where longer-running plot threads began to take root, and more complicated games and chases between heroes and villains were given room to unfold. Most notably as the Calculator takes more and evermore dramatic actions against Oracle and her team. Not without its fair share of delightful rough patches as team dynamics shift right alongside the cast rotations, anyone who appreciates a long game and character development is likely to come away satisfied from this run, even as it draws to brief close... Which brings me to...

BoP (2010):

The Line-Up

Picking up not too long where the previous run ended, Oracle brings her team (Black Canary, Huntress and Lady Blackhawk) back together with a couple new faces (Hawk and Dove) to wrap up a few loose threads, and, hopefully, begin something anew.

The Talent

As before, Simone doesn’t usually miss a beat with this team, even while taking account the changed dynamics and time apart the group has spent. Dialogue and plot threading is just as tight as ever.

Unfortunate, however, is the fact that the art in the run ended up with more misses than hits for me, mostly in the first half of the run and most often in the sense of objectifying and oversexualizing our heroines in fashion that is disappointing, but unsurprising coming from the comics industry.

The Development

The plot takes a bit of a beating, rushed in some places as Flashpoint and the New 52 reboot loom heavily on the horizon, but Simone and the team superseding her take those changes in stride, delivering a story that may or may not satisfy everyone’s tastes. For those who were left wanting from the way the first run ended, it’s important to note that the threat of the Bird’s longer running nemesis, the Calculator, comes to a much more satisfying and final end after his temporary defeat in the Oracle: The Cure miniseries. While not entirely necessary, I would highly suggest reading that mini, and the issues of Batgirl (2009) which include Babs, to get a clearer sense of the arc that Barbara and this villain have taken. While this run is not a perfect ending, per se, it provides an ending nonetheless, and an entertaining adventure to cap off the series that once again perfectly encapsulates what camaraderie and sisterhood is all about for this team.

The New 52:

The Line-Up

With a fresh new universe and timeline to make one’s mark in, this team is kick-started alone by Dinah Drake-Lance, though Barbara (as Batgirl) is later to follow. For the first part of the run, Dinah is joined by a new character Starling, (whose mannerism and role on the team most closely resemble of fusion of previous members Huntress and Blackhawk) Katana, and Poison Ivy (acting a role of anti-villain, mostly). For the latter half of the run, following Ivy’s betrayal and Katana’s desire to strike out on her own, the team is joined by Condor (a meta whose backstory and powers are explored as the series progresses) and Strix (a former Talon who brings extra and endearing muscle to the team).

With many members carrying secrets or ulterior motives, tension often runs high among these birds. Those who enjoy drama or a little more disarray in a team, may find themelves entertained by the turns these ladies will take on one another. Most certainly a break from the norm previously established, and from those to come.

The Talent

The writing for this run is filled with many quick quips and snaps, each character developing a distinct voice and personality. While the New 52 is often a point of contention among DC fans, anyone wishing for something fresh or different from pre52 characterization of these characters may find themselves delightfully surprised.

Art-wise expect similar fare as the 2010 run, as some costume design choices are questionable at best. The action itself is entertaining, though, with some interesting opportunity for unique visuals as more metahumans and meta dangers are brought along.

The Development

What sets this run apart from the others, certainly has to do in the dynamics that are laid out over the series. Every character has their own motives or secrets to hide, creating a delicious tension that helps keep a reader guessing just how this team will inevitably break apart. Story arcs themselves are usually pretty well-paced, though with such heavy focus usually on whatever threat immediately faces the team, moments of character development and interpersonal development can be lackluster at best, nonexistent at worst. And while that was certainly frustrating, I personally found myself intrigued enough by any given on-going plot to nearly forgive it... Nearly.

BatBoP:

The Line-Up

In the Wake of Rebirth, the Birds find themselves once again starting anew, with Batgirl (Babs) and Canary (Dinah) forming what each believes to be a brief alliance. With the Huntress crossing their path, eventually the trio recognizes how well they work together, and these three remain once more as the core members for the majority of this run.

They are joined for a brief time by Gus Yale, taking on the Oracle identity to provide technical back-up. Even more brief is a memorable team-up which included Gotham heroine and villainess alike for the Manslaughter story arc.

The Talent

While exposition is often written with a flair of humor, and many interesting one-liners can be found, overall that humor can grow tedious, and the dialogue itself often came across as either very stilted or simply unrealistic. Many characters can fall very flat, while others feel like shadows of their pre52 selves. Whether the writers intended to make these characters their own or to emulate previous characterizations, I could care less about, as the pacing and plotting itself leaves such a poor taste in my mouth.

This run’s saving grace, however, is most certainly in the character design and the artwork. Given practical costumes, colorful palettes, and powerful posing, visually it’s a breath of fresh air.

The Development

Quick and simple story-arcs is the name of the game here, but unlike during Dixon’s era, these one-off adventures are all too often infantilizing and condescending towards its audience. The development of this trio’s friendship also feels extremely rushed, the camaraderie and kinship unearned compared to the toil and work put in during previous runs. With a completed long-running story arc set from the beginning issues and brought to a neatly-wrapped conclusion by the end, one can walk away satisfied that a story has been brought to completion. However, with no true middle act in the issues between, this remains one of the weakest of Birds runs for me, as the plot borrows much too heavily from pre52 (what with the return of the Calculator as a main villain), while also neglecting to produce too many original ideas of real note.

BoP02:

The Line-Up

In usual fashion for TV, we mainly follow a trio of gals, this time consisting of Barbara Gordon (as Oracle), Helena Kyle (as the Huntress) and Dinah Lance. Rounding out the supporting cast is Alfred Pennyworth as a confidant to the team, and Detective Jesse Reese, Huntress’ ally within the police. The main antagonist for this series is none other than Harley Quinn, who is introduced first to the audience as Helena’s therapist.

The Talent

It takes a team to pull off any performance art, but that especially rings true for television. While the writing and acting can be a tad hammy in many places, even by early 00s standards, there’s a clear level of love and care taken by the actors and crew alike. Outfits and costuming is fairly typical, fashionable for the time, even, and the same can be said for the soundtrack as well (which rings with an air of nostalgia, as someone who listened to plenty of pop/rock tracks of this time period well throughout my child & teenagehood).

I’ve often described this series to friends and fans alike as a ‘so bad, but good’ kind of show. Which isn’t entirely fair. Rather, it’s a guilty pleasure, because it’s perfectly imperfect. It’s got the heart and the soul and a lot of vision that falls just a little short at times. But it can be a pleasure to view all the same. I do not begrudge anyone who chooses not to view it, however, as in many ways it feels like a spiritual predecessor to what would eventually become the CW/Arrowverse. And we’ll dive more into that just below...

The Development

In an odd enough twist for the time, as by 2002 Huntress (Bertinelli, that is) had only joined Canary on a few missions in the comics, the show runners have replaced Bertinelli with the other known Huntress, Helena Wayne (or known here, rather, as Helena Kyle). Made stranger still, is forgoing the use of Dinah’s character as Black Canary and replacing her Canary Cry with psychic meta-abilities instead, simultaneously transforming her into a runaway and aging her down to her mid-teens, further differentiating her from her fellow cast members (as Kyle is portrayed as early 20s, & Babs’ as early 30s). This dynamic is a very dramatic flip compared to the comics, but (but!) not entirely an unwelcome one, for me.

While giving Babs the chance to act more as a leader and den-mother alike to these two budding heroes. Kyle, in similar fashion, taking on an elder-sibling/mentor role to Dinah’s naiveté. Dina’s portrayal of Babs has certainly set a standard for those who may follow, as she captures so much of the dual love and sternness the character carries. Kyle’s character takes a simple, but satisfying arc as she learns to trust those around her, despite her past and what she believes to be her nature. And finally Dinah just starting to come into her powers and her identity, one could see further development for her character, had the series progressed beyond the first, and only season.

Alas, with one lone season, we shall never know what may have been. I can say, however, that the slow build up of Harley as the main threat facing New Gotham, and their swift, but hard-won defeat of her, was wonderfully satisfying. And with enough of one-off and self-contained episodes in between, it makes for an interesting, but quick and relatively painless binge.

BoP20:

The Line-Up

In another case of Adaptation Deviation, taking center stage for this story is none other than the Clown Princess of Crime, Harley Quinn. In this tale that our protagonist narrates, we’ve also got BoP staples Dinah and Helena (Bertinelli this time) returning, and former guest ‘Birds’ Renee and Cassandra to round out the protagonist team. The Black Mask, Roman Sionis, and serial killer, Victor Zsasz, serve as the primary villains.

The Talent

WHERE to even BEGIN. If television takes a team, movies take an entire goddamn VILLAGE to pull off, and to pull of WELL. For all intents and purposes, BoP(atFEoOHQ) is an absolutely goddamn DELIGHT for the senses. The sheer amount of COLOR, choreography and every moment acting as villains and heroes alike are at the TOP of their game. The soundtrack is something that I’ve been listening to for well over two months at this time of posting (& likely will continue to listen to well after). There’s almost too much to be said and has already been said about the love and labor that clearly went into this film, but suffice it to say, it’s something I’ve come to appreciate even more every time I’ve had the chance to rewatch it. On viewability alone, even with a strong, and well earned R-rating, one can’t help but simply sit back and enjoy it for the ride that it is.

The Development

The plot, despite even Harley’s sometimes roundabout storytelling skills, is simple enough to follow. And with character introductions and motivations padding out the rest of the runtime, and leading up to a predictable but nevertheless astounding 3rd act team-up, fans new and old should walk away satisfied. That being said, with Harley as our protagonist and her character arc taking precedent over the others because of that, this movie does come across as more of a Harley Quinn Show with a Side of Birds. Another point of contention is the absence of Barbara Gordon, either as Batgirl OR Oracle, and the drastic change of Cassandra’s characterization. While these two points are definite drawbacks that sadden me, the overall production is damn-well near enough to make me forget. This movie, while nowhere near a Complete adaptation of any particular Birds comic, is nonetheless a fun romp, and captures enough of the essence of what Birds should be about; women uplifting other women.

HQatBoP:

The Line-Up

To tie in with the movie, this line-up follows the same five female protagonists, this time as Harley finds danger following her as she makes a prodigal return to Gotham City. With only one issue out, and hints of the Gotham mob and Joker alike to be facing our team, only time will tell just how many heroes or villains may be involved in this miniseries.

The Talent

With Harley Quinn alums, Amanda Conner and Jimmy Palmiotti spearheading this story, and with the blessing of the DC Black label, fans who enjoy the raunchier or more violent side of comics, and who enjoyed the Harley series, will find a fantastic start in return to form in this comic. It might be a little too soon to tell, but from what I have read from this duo already, I have nothing but hight hopes for how they’ll flesh out this story.

The Development

An interesting start and lots of exposition to ease new readers into place, this comic seems to be a good bridge for those unfamiliar with any previous Harley work (though they do sample heavily from their old runs), or those who may be coming solely with knowledge from the movie. Once again, Harley will be taking the center stage in this series, but already with Helena and Cassandra joining her fight, and Renee making an antagonist entrance at the end of the first issue, this series feels full of promise. Certainly not quite like any Birds series that’s been published before, but hopefully the herald of something more to come.

---

While I firmly believe each comic run has their merits, I would be remiss not to recommend the original run (and the 2010 follow-up) above all else. It is the definitive run, after all, and with over 100 issues to pour over, plus one-offs and miniseries from the same era abounding, anyone looking to get into Birds will find themselves with plenty to parse through, and plenty to enjoy, when reading.

While I certainly have more to say about these runs and even more so about these characters, as I close out my reading for the first time on Birds of Prey, I can only hope for more adventures for this team in the future.

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lurafita · 5 years

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Peter/Avengers, dub/con, captivity, Part 4

TAGGING PEOPLE STILL ISN’T WORKING!

Support couldn’t give me an answer to my problem. Though they said they would send me a link with a tool kinda thing, that I would have to install, and maybe that might help, then. Havn’t gotten it yet, but they said it might take a few days to get the file packed, or something. I have no clue about these things. Wish I had a Tony Stark in real life I could go bother with this.

Anyway, I would like to ask everyone to reblog this post, if you don’t mind, so that hopefully everyone who asked to be tagged for future parts will be able to find this. Thanks!

Read previous parts here:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Once again, heed the tags below the cut.

kidnapping, dub/con, captivity, chains, bondage, obsessive Avengers, Peter/Everyone, darkly soft Avengers (in the sense that they hold Peter captive, but only want to love and protect him), non-powered Peter, dark-ish Avengers, 18+ Peter, Clint is not married and has no kids, Tony is not in a relationship with Pepper.

Part 4

Setting things up was almost too easy.

The Avengers floors in the tower were spread over four stories.

One floor made up an intricate and wide indoor training gym, with special equipment. The one above that was dedicated to lab work, and had all the instruments any scientists heart could ever desire.

Then came the common floor, which was by far, the biggest.

In the beginning, Tony had set it up so that every Avenger would have their own, private floor.

But everyone had quickly migrated to the completely functional guest rooms (that all came with en-suite bathrooms) on the common floor. There was more than enough room for everyone, and the team mates liked being close to each other, while still having some privacy in their own rooms.

Peter's room, of course, had also always been on the common floor.

The parameters for Friday's new protocol were easy to code into her mainframe. As was the math to calculate the length of the chain, and the best place to anchor it to, so that Peter would still be able to roam the whole of the common floor freely, but unable to reach the elevator.

Tony and Bruce would, of course, take Peter to their labs with them, if he wished for it. A fitting chain would be placed there as well. Things were a bit different for the gym. They suspected that Peter would want to keep up his ballet practices with Natasha (once he got used to his new circumstances a bit, they had no delusions that the first few days would be difficult for everyone). However, he clearly couldn't be chained down for those. So there would be no chains there.

And really, the chains weren't actually necessary. With Friday's updated protocols, which disallowed Peter the use of the elevators (which were the only way to access the Avenger floors), unless one of the Avengers was with him, or in case of an immediate emergency; as well as the fact that each and every one of them would be able to easily restrain Peter if it came to it, there was honestly no need to put a shackle on the younger man.

Thinking back, Tony didn't even know who had suggested it in the first place, but once the image was there...

They wanted it.

They wanted the visible, physical, undeniable proof, that Peter wouldn't leave them.

Couldn't leave them.

They wanted to be able to touch the chain, run their hands over the links, hear the sound it would make every time the brunette moved.

Tony took great pleasure in making it. He was not going to allow some crude, mass manufactured, heavy dark chain to touch his Sweetheart's soft skin. No. The chain he was making was a gold aluminum alloy, just like his armor. Strong, but light, and a glittering gold and red color. The cuff that would rest around Peter's ankle was padded with the softest material Tony could find, ensuring that neither the delicate skin, nor bones would get damaged from wearing it over a long period of time.

Feeling inspired, the billionaire also made some handcuffs out of the same metal and soft padding, as well as some other things that almost had him come in his pants, from simply imagining using them on Peter. Not right away, of course, he didn't want to spook his Sweetheart. But once things had progressed a little, when Peter had learned to accept (and maybe reciprocate) their love, these things would be there, and Tony and the others would use them to make his Sweetheart feel more pleasure than he ever had before.

When Peter graduated from University, Tony had finished making all the restraints they would need (and want). To celebrate Peter's graduation, Tony invited everyone (the team, Peter's aunt, and his two friends) to the most expensive restaurant in the city. Between the lighthearted teasing and sincere praise of everyone, Peter was blushing the whole evening.

Such a pretty little thing.

During the next days, as his departure to Australia drew ever nearer, Peter was a bundle of nervous energy. Fretting about preparations for his trip, getting everything in order, trying to spend time with Ned and MJ, his aunt and the Avengers, before he wouldn't see them for quite a while.

The day before his plane would depart, just as they had planned, the Avengers again invited everyone out, this time to a fancy, discreet place that served brunch. The food was good and everyone had a great time. At the end, Ned, Michelle and May Parker thanked the Avengers for the invitation, and then all hugged Peter tightly (May with tears in her eyes) and wished him all the luck in the world on his trip.

Peter likewise had to wipe some moisture out of his eyes after the heartfelt goodbyes.

Back at the tower, Bruce started the final stage of their plan.

“Peter? Professor Stoddard gave you a list of all the recommended shots for Australia, right?”

The younger man grinned. “Yep. Got them all covered. On a side note, I really hate needles.”

The admission got a small chuckle out of everyone, as well as a little smile from Bruce.

“Well, if you can grit your teeth through one more, I have mixed up something in the lab that will help your body to better adapt to the Australian climate.”

Peter gave him a look between surprised and moved.

“Aw, thank you, Bruce. You really didn't have to.”

But the doctor shook his head, and placed an arm around the slightly smaller man, guiding him to the elevator, the dark, knowing eyes of the other Avengers on their backs.

“Nonsense. I think we all would feel a lot better, knowing that you are less likely to collapse from heatstroke the minute you get off the plane. Come. It's in my lab.”

Ten minutes later, the elevator doors opened back up, showing Bruce carrying an unconscious Peter in his arms.

Steve stepped forward immediately, offering to take Peter from him.

“You made sure the sedative isn't harmful?”

Bruce would take offense, but he knew that the super soldier was simply worried and anxious for their precious one.

“I've tested it multiple times. He will sleep soundly for approximately the next nine hours.”

With Peter carefully cradled in his arms, Steve led the small procession to the younger man's room, where he laid him gently into his bed.

Natasha came forward and lovingly carded her fingers through the always messy, brown curls, swiping away a stray lock from his eyes. Clint was already in the process of removing the sleeping man's shoes, and Bucky, with sure but soft hands, opened Peter's jeans and tenderly stripped them off.

Sam was collecting the younger man's tablet, phone and laptop. They would be kept secure and out of Peter's reach, until they could be sure that their love wouldn't try to contact anyone about his captivity.

Tony and Thor entered the room then, carrying the long, gold and red chain between them.

Clint huffed at the sight. “I'm still not happy that my Darling will be wearing your color scheme all the time.”

Tony just smirked at him. “What did you want me to paint the chain with? Purple? No chance.”

Then he took the cuff that was linked to the chain, and approached the bed. He sat down at Peter's naked feet (Bucky had quickly traded the jeans for a soft pair of pajama bottoms, not wanting his Doll to get cold during the night, in only his boxers)

Tony took a moment to just admire the sleeping form of the man that held all their hearts in his hands. He looked so peaceful. He moved his hand to the ankle that laid against his thigh. Such soft skin. He stroked over it lightly. So delicate. He could wrap his whole hand around the appendage without problem.

“We were right. Peter isn't made for the jungle. It would be too rough on him. We can't let him go. He needs us.”

He didn't need to look up to see the agreement in the others eyes, and without further delay, he closed the cuff around the pale flesh.

“The chain will have to come off for changing clothes and taking baths, so there is a fingerprint scanner here” He pointed it out for the others “programmed to recognize our thumb prints. You need to press your thumb to it for five seconds, before it comes off, so there should be no accidental release. We will all need to watch our steps from now on, so that we don't trip over the chain.”

Everyone nodded.

Steve spoke next.

“Remember that Peter won't be too happy with us during the next few days. Maybe longer. He won't understand this, and he will like it even less. The first week will likely be the most frustrating for all of us, but I won't tolerate anyone taking it out on him.”

He was met with scowls.

“No one here would ever hurt him.” Sam had crossed his arms over his chest.

“It will take time, but Lastashka will come around.” Natasha continued to stroke his hair.

“Patience and love. Just like we talked about. He will accept it, one day.” Bucky's voice was confident and steady.

“It is rare that all of us are needed for a mission, so there is always going to be at least one of us here with him. This should help him to get used to it.” Bruce added.

“I will have to attend matters at Asgard occasionally, but I doubt it will take more than a day at a time. It is important that we show him that we will always be there for him, and take care of his needs.”

Tony stroked over the padded shackle once more, before standing up and covering the still unconscious Peter with the warm blanket.

“Friday, initiate Protocol: Caged Bird.”

The first few days were difficult, but it was nothing they hadn’t expected.

Peter was mostly confused. He didn’t understand why his friends were doing what they were doing. He didn’t understand that their feelings for him exceeded friendship by a mile. He didn’t understand that keeping him locked up, was for his own good.

He tried reasoning with them, tried convincing them that nothing would happen to him in Australia, or any other expedition he might take part in in the future. (He was very upset about having missed his flight. At the sight of tears gathering in his eyes, Steve had climbed into bed with him and cuddled the unwilling college graduate for about an hour)

After that Peter had got it in his head that the team had been hypnotized or otherwise manipulated by some kind of villain. (”This isn’t right. You know it isn’t. Someone is making you act this way. You have to fight this.”) But, of course, it was to no avail.

They had expected him to be angry at them, to scream and curse and wish them to hell (though he never did). And while he was clearly very unhappy about the situation, it wasn’t his anger that cut into the Avengers. It was his sadness.

The team did their best to help Peter through the ordeal, help him get used to things. Affectionate touches were freely given and numerous, no matter how reluctantly they were received.

They were vigilant about not giving him time or opportunity to get lost in negative emotions. Took care that he always ate and drank enough, would change the shackle from one ankle to the other every day, and then spent a few minutes to massage the joint, to ward off any discomfort.

Due to the shackle and chain needing to be taken off, in order for Peter to change his bottoms, or shower, someone was always in the room with him during that time. The lack of privacy and his own shyness about the others seeing him naked like this, was possibly the most challenging hurdle for Peter to overcome.

It took two weeks, for Peter to stop flinching away from their touches, and then another four days until he didn’t automatically stiffen any more, when one of them hugged him. His pleas to be let go tapered off after roughly the first month into his captivity.

When Clint actually managed to make Peter laugh one day, things changed again.

With the younger man’s slowly growing acceptance of his non-negotiable presence in the tower, the team grew bolder in their displays of affection.

Lips soon found their way onto the soft skin, hands alone no longer enough. Necklines were pulled lower, exposing more of the delicate neck and shoulder bones, then covering the light skin in love bites and hickeys.

Shirts were rolled up to gain access to stomach and chest. to stroke and caress, to lick and kiss. Soft tickles to the sides of the sensitive belly, light pinches and bites to the pink nipples.

Hands found their ways under the soft pants and boxers Peter wore, squeezing his buttocks, fingers ghosting over the rim, stroking up and down the length of his penis.

The younger man would tell them to stop, tried to shove them away, or wriggle out of their grasps, at first, but he was never successful. It was like a switch had been pulled in the Avengers heads. Knowing that Peter couldn’t get away from them, couldn’t run, couldn’t leave, allowed them more and more freedom to express their love.

They wanted to kiss him. Caress him. Feel him. Taste him. They wanted to make him feel good. Make him experience all the pleasure they could. Wanted to hear him moan, and gasp, and writher. They wanted to hear their name on his lips when he came. And then they wanted to do it all over again.

Peter discovered that, despite the chain that already shackled him to their home, the Avengers liked to restrain him even further, whenever things got more intimate.

Bucky and Steve both liked to use their superhuman strength. Steve would gather the thin wrists in one of his big hands, and hold them to whatever surface Peter happened to be on, before descending on the slighter body.

Bucky was the same, just that he exclusively used his metal arm to trap Peter’s hands with, so that his flesh one would be able to feel the others skin beneath him.

Sam and Clint almost always used the padded handcuffs that Tony had made, to bind Peter’s arms behind his back. Sam liked for Peter to straddle him like this, while he played with his body. Clint preferred to lay the younger man down on the closest soft surface, be that the couch in the living room, or whoever’s bed was nearest, and have his wicked way with him.

Natasha usually took Peter to her bedroom, where she used silk shawls and other soft ties to secure him to her bed. (”Tying someone down can have two implications, Lastashka. The most obvious one is that it makes you unable to resist and gives me complete control. The other reason is that it’s not about reciprocation. Being bound forces you to accept the pleasure that I give you, to let me take care of you, let me make you feel good and worship your body like it should be worshiped. If you wonder which one of those implications comes into play here, it’s actually both. I like being in control, Peter, but I also like making you feel good. Just let me love you.”)

Most surprising was probably Bruce’s fondness for Japanese bondage. The older scientist loved to put Peter in elaborate and complicated bindings (with special ropes that wouldn’t burn or shave at the delicate skin, of course). He would patiently and carefully wrestle the younger man into compliance, and then skillfully tie him up. The only reason the bondage never included a gag, Peter came to realize, was that Bruce would stop his work every few minutes, to kiss him tenderly on the lips, the cheeks, and his forehead. Sometimes they didn’t even have sex when Bruce tied him up, though the man always made Peter come.

Thor was probably the odd one out, as he didn’t have a specific method he used to restrain his lover. Sometimes he would use a soft rope, other times he closed the padded handcuffs around Peter’s wrists, and other times still the god of thunder would simply clamp his own, big hands around the slim body and manhandle him however he wanted to. One day Thor had stripped his love, pinned him down on his bed with one hand, and with the other, carefully, hesitantly, but full of anticipation, laid his hammer onto the youngers chest. Mjölnir wasn’t heavy in the sense that it crushed Peter, but it was completely impossible for the younger man to move out from under it. All he could do was claw at the bedding and move his legs to the almost overwhelming pleasure, as the Asgardian took him again and again.

Tony, even though he had been the one to design and make the handcuffs and various other restrains the team used on Peter, would usually direct one or more of the empty Iron Man armors to hold his Sweetheart in position. He loved watching as Peter ineffectually writhed against the unyielding hold of something he had created, while he kneeled before his captive, using the skill learned from years of being New York’s number one playboy, to suck him off. He always made Peter orgasm once, before he entered him. It was such a heady feeling, such a turn on, to see Peter experience a second release, while the billionaire himself was buried deep inside his warmth.

They made sure not to overwhelm Peter too much. He couldn’t be taken by everyone, everyday. And really, no one had a problem with this. After all, it wasn’t purely about sex. They loved Peter, and they loved making love to Peter, but fucking for hours on end was not the only way that physical attraction and devotion could be expressed.

Cuddling during movie nights, or taking a bath together, having him sit between their legs and leaning back into their chest while he was reading a book, were all things that were high on everyone’s list for making Peter feel special and loved.

Whenever it wasn’t Steve himself to share this kind of intimacy with his Honey, he liked to draw the scene before him. His sketchbook was full of pages upon pages of Peter being cherished by one of his team mates. (He always drew the chain, and sometimes the handcuffs, as well. The different restraints had become as much of a symbol for their love, as everything else had)

Three and a half months into Peter’s captivity, everyone was gathered in the living room, watching a movie. Peter was lying with his head in Natasha’s lap, the former Assassin lovingly stroking her hand through his hair. His legs were laid over Sam’s lap, with the man softly kneading his calves. The rest of the Avengers had spread out over the other couches and chairs in the room, basking in the peaceful atmosphere that knowing Peter was close by, always brought to them.

“Do you hate us?”

Natasha’s quiet question cut through the room like a knife, and Peter could see every one of the Avengers stiffen, as they waited for him to answer. He inhaled deeply.

“...No. I don’t hate you. I don’t like being locked up, I’m not always too happy about all the restraints, I miss being able to run around outside, jump from building to building, or just take a walk. I still don’t understand why you are doing all this,... But I don’t hate you.”

They all slumped a little in relief, Sam affectionately squeezed the ankle without the shackle, and Natasha continued to stroke through Peter’s hair.

“No more parkour for you, Doll. It’s too dangerous.” Came Bucky’s rumble to the brunettes right, and he could see the others nod their heads in agreement to this. He sighed.

“But we can talk about a few outings in the future.”

Natasha and Sam kept him from sitting up, but Peter still looked at Tony with wide, excited eyes.

“Really?”

The billionaire nodded. “If you agree to wearing a tracker, maybe an anklet. And at least one of us has to be with you. Possibly a few more rules that we will decide on then. But yes, really.”

Seeing the reluctant agreement to that in everyone’s eyes, Peter smiled widely. It wouldn’t happen in the next few days, he knew. Maybe not even for another month or more. But he would get to go outside again.

One day.

______________________________________________________________

That’s it folks.

As you can probably tell, I’m not very good with writing smut. (In fact, I didn’t really, explicitely, write any... sorry)

Which is why, if anyone is interested / wants to do it, I would not at all be opposed if someone wrote additional parts to this story.

The only thing I ask, is that you keep things nice. No degradation, humiliation or pain play, please. (Pain play would include things like spanking and orgasm denial. Orgasm delay is fine, but outright denial can not only be considerably painful, but might also have real, physical consequences.)

I don’t mean any offense if those are some of your personal kinks or likes, but I myself don’t enjoy those very much (or at all), and I don’t think they would fit into the mind frame of the story, or the Avengers.

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