#so after a few days I got the replacement iPad and of course all the data was gone

[girlgenius1111]

miscommunications + conversations

alexia x reader alexia has practically stopped speaking in the wake of her second surgery. it's stressing you out, but you don't quite know how to tell her. she gets it out of you anyway. mentioned this the other day, but changed the title :) angst x fluff

"Do you need anything?" You asked, rising from your spot on the couch a safe distance away from your incredibly grouchy girlfriend.

"No." She responded, barely turning her attention away from the old match she had playing on her ipad. You sighed, realizing that it was the match against Benfica. Again. She'd been playing it over and over since her injury, in an almost obsessive manner. You'd said something about it, but she'd simply fixed you with the glare you'd become quite familiar with, and you'd dropped the subject.

Alexia wasn't an easy patient. You'd known this before her second knee surgery, but you were still astounded at how stubborn she was being. She'd barely spoken more than a word to you in weeks, and even though she pulled you close into her at night when she thought you were asleep, you hadn't ever felt like such a failure in your entire life.

Alexia wasn't okay, and she needed something. Something that you couldn't figure out, something you weren't giving her. It was driving you crazy, this feeling of inadequacy.

You were tired, worried, tired of being worried, stressed, and in need of a break. From anything, any one of your responsibilities.

You'd had a lengthy double session today, followed by a long time in the film room reviewing the last match. You'd looked forward to coming home and relaxing all day, but now that you were here, the distance between you and your girlfriend felt suffocating. It was all too much; Alexia acting like a robot, half the team being injured, game after game scheduled for the next week. You felt so stressed you thought your bones might literally shatter under the pressure.

After another rejection of conversation from Alexia, you knew you had to get out of the house before you broke down and cried in front of her. It wasn't her fault you weren't doing a good enough job taking care of her. It wasn't her fault you were so exhausted, every movement was difficult, even though you couldn't, for the life of you, sleep.

You didn't see Alexia look up after you as you left, walking back into the bedroom and pulling your phone out. You clicked the contact you were looking for, hoping she'd answer, and hoping she'd be willing to help you out today.

"Hola."

"Mapi, can you come over and sit with Ale for a bit?"

"Sí, of course. Is everything all right?" Mapi replied, usual joking manner replaced with a sympathetic one. Mapi knew all too well how Alexia was acting.

'Yeah, yeah. I just need a break." You explained. Mapi said she understood, and promised that she'd be there soon. She didn't live far, and you took a few calming breaths in the bedroom, before stepping back out to where Alexia was sitting. This time, she did look up at you, her face scrunching in concern when she noticed just how drained you looked.

It wasn't the first time she'd noticed that you were struggling, but every time she brought it up, the only time you really got more than a few words out of her at once, you turned the conversation around, trying to get her to open up to you. She hadn't missed this, but she assumed that you'd tell her what was going on when you felt ready. Alexia didn't quite seem to realize the effect her cold behavior was having on you.

"I'm gonna go run some errands. Mapi will be here in a bit, and I'll be back in a couple hours." You explained shortly, pressing a kiss onto Alexia's soft lips, and slipping out the door before she could say anything.

Once you were out the door, all bets were off, and you felt tears pooling in your eyes. It was a good thing you hadn't waited for Mapi to arrive, because you wouldn't have made it that long without breaking down in front of her, and that would have just been embarrassing.

Although, getting in the car and driving to an empty parking lot to cry wasn't really any less embarrassing.

-----

You came back from your rather pathetic drive, and walked into the house, finding your girlfriend in deep discussion with her best friend. Though you felt marginally better, you realized you'd forgotten something rather important; crying in your car for an hour would leave you with red and puffy eyes, tear stained cheeks. You hadn't done anything to hide the evidence.

This was clear when both girls stopped talking and looked at you, faces heavy with concern. Mapi stood, crossed the room as quickly as she could on crutches, and pulled you into a hug. The words she whispered in your ear were only for you to hear.

"Talk to your girlfriend. She's going crazy not knowing what's wrong with you."

You sighed, nodding slightly as you led Mapi to the door, waving to Ingrid, biting your tongue to avoid telling Mapi that you hoped she enjoyed her playdate. You and Ingrid had been making the joke for weeks, driving your respective girlfriend's back and forth to each other as they couldn't drive, feeling like parents of 2 very grumpy children.

When you returned to the living room, to Alexia, she was sitting on the couch with her arms crossed over her chest, knee extended in front of her, looking carefully at you. She looked like Alexia again, her hazel eyes looking somehow both sternly and softly at you.

"If I left the house to cry, you would kill me in my sleep."

She wasn't wrong. You were on Alexia all the time about being more vulnerable with you. It was possible, you supposed, that you were being a bit of a hypocrite.

"I didn't leave to go cry, I left, and I cried. It was coincidental." You argued back, sitting next to her on the couch, and taking her outstretched hand. Hers was so much larger than yours, and it encapsulated it completely, the rough calluses and the tight hold she had on you making you feel inexplicably safe. 

"I do not believe you. You have been upset all week, and you refused to tell me why. You call Mapi to come babysit me, you make up an errand to run, and you go cry in your car. When you are upset, you are supposed to tell me, so I can help."

You looked away from her, the extent to which she knew you being slightly overwhelming. Of course she'd known you were upset, and of course she hadn't pushed too hard. Alexia was perfect in that way, always knowing what you needed.

"Mírame," Alexia rasped and you turned towards her, lip wobbling as you finally met her gaze. "Amor," she sighed, pulling you in until you collapsed against her chest. It was a familiar position, with your head resting against her sternum, her arms holding you close. It felt like it had been ages since she’d held you, and you curled into her, clutching tightly onto the green hoodie she was wearing, feeling her lips press softly onto the top of your head. 

You still weren’t fully sold on breaking down in front of her, not when she was the one who had every right to be upset and angry with the world. You had thought, too, that you were all cried out. Unfortunately not, as you took several stuttering breaths trying to stave off your sobs before they really even started. 

Alexia stroked your hair, scolding you very gently. “No, stop that. Cry if you need to, mi amor. You can always feel what you need to feel when you are with me, sí?” 

You tried to pull away, but Alexia was too strong, keeping you stubbornly pressed to her chest.“I can’t, Ale, you-”

“Forget about me. You need to cry, you need me to hold you. We worry about you right now. Not me.” The blonde insisted, her hand sliding up your shirt, blunt nails scratching lightly over your back. She was pulling out every trick she knew to make you fall limp against her, doing everything she could to get you to let go, let her be strong for you when you were always so strong for her. 

You spent the next few minutes almost crying, almost letting go, but not quite. Your hands were fisted in the fabric of Alexia’s sweatshirt, and even though she was telling you that it was okay, you couldn’t stop yourself from fighting against the flood of emotion rushing through you. 

“Mi niña bonita, it’s okay. You’re safe to feel what you need, amor, please.” 

“I can’t Ale,” you whimpered, allowing Alexia’s hand to tilt your chin up away from her chest, towards her face. 

“Why?” She asked, so gently, so adoringly, that you felt a piece of your heart stitch itself back together. 

“You need me to be strong.” 

Alexia shook her head. “No, I need you to be okay. And you are not right now, are you?” 

You responded hesitantly, although you had no argument against her. It was rather evident that you were far from okay. “No.” 

“No.” Alexia repeated, her thumb rubbing little circles into your cheekbone. “You do not need to pretend with me. You have been so perfect, so strong. Let me be strong for you now, okay? Please?” 

Something in her voice, the pleading edge to it, broke you, and you rested your forehead back against your girlfriend’s chest, body trembling harshly with sobs. You inhaled deep gasps of Alexia’s perfume in between your cries, and tried to let it wash over you, as her words were doing. 

“There you go, bebé. You’re alright. I love you. Te tengo, amor. Te amo y te tengo, mi niña bonita.” 

You weren’t sure where this Alexia had come from, the emotionally intelligent version of your girlfriend having been missing for weeks, but you weren’t complaining. Far from it, in fact, as you cried so hard you shook against her, so hard that you exhausted yourself within minutes, gasping breaths turning into quiet whimpers as your eyes fluttered shut, and you relaxed into a light sleep against the blonde. Alexia held you with an unmoving steadiness, even when her knee started to feel stiff from the position it was in. She knew that she’d played some role in whatever was going on here, and she was quite determined to make it up to you. For now, though, she was happy to let you sleep, looking more peaceful than you had in a while. 

------ 

You woke up when Alexia began to shift uncomfortably under you. She couldn’t help it, she’d been laying in the same position for an hour, and her knee was really starting to complain. The blonde had tried to keep still, not wanting to disturb you, but she was clearly not successful when your eyes fluttered open, swollen and red, as you gazed up at your girlfriend. Her jaw was set, but she looked at you apologetically, sighing when you shot up off of her, looking frantically at her knee. 

“I am okay, bebé,” she began.

You scrambled up off of her, practically running to the kitchen to get a new ice pack. 

“Amor, come back,” she called, really not wanting to let you out of her sight before you told her what was wrong. You did return, ice pack in hand but you ignored Alexia’s attempts at conversation, carefully stretching her knee out and adjusting it to a better position. She sighed in relief despite herself, and you gently wrapped the new ice pack around her knee, before giving her an unimpressed look.

“You should have woken me.” 

“I was fine.” Alexia argued, opening her arms to invite you back against her. You hesitated, looking between her face and her knee. “Ven aqui, amor.” 

You relented slightly, curling against her side again to rest your head on her shoulder. Her lips left a soft kiss on the side of your head, and you settled in closer, the feeling of your girlfriend’s arms around you being so perfect after such a tough few weeks. 

“Talk to me, please.” Alexia said quietly after a minute.

“About what?” You replied, partly because you wanted to avoid this conversation, and partly because you knew it would annoy Alexia. 

The blonde pinched your arm lightly, not needing to say anything for you to take a deep breath, and try to explain yourself. 

“I’m just stressed. Everything with the team, the amount we have to play coming up. I’m exhausted, and there’s no time for a break.” 

It was half the truth, half the story, but you deeply hoped Ale would buy it. You didn’t need her to feel like she was burdening you, not when it was your fault, and not when she was having a hard enough time as it was. 

It was quite on brand with how things were going that Alexia saw right through you. 

“And I am not helping.” She murmured, her hand grabbing yours. Her voice was filled with guilt and regret, and you couldn't stand it. 

“No, Ale,”

“Sí,” she interrupted. “I have been moody and quiet and completely unhelpful. That is stressing you out more, yes?” 

To be honest, Alexia wouldn’t have reached that conclusion an hour ago. While you slept, though, she’d been thinking long and hard, and came to the realization that in her attempts to protect you from how awful she was feeling, she’d shut you out. 

“Yeah.” You allowed. 

“I need more than that, bebé.” 

You gave an annoyed huff, but there wasn’t really anything behind it. “It’s not your fault, Ale. It’s hard that I can’t fix everything for you, but it’s not your fault, it’s mine.” 

“I do not need you to fix it for me, amor.” Alexia cut in. 

“It would make it easier if you could tell me how to help you, because what I’m doing isn’t working.” You continued, having worked up the courage to say what you were feeling, and were sure that if you stopped now, you wouldn’t be able to continue. 

“No no no. You have not done anything wrong, you have done everything right.”

You didn’t believe her. “Then why are you so upset with me?” 

Your voice was so small and so hesitant, Alexia shut her eyes for a minute, willing away her emotion so she could explain herself to you. 

“I am not upset with you, amor. I… I am miserable because I cannot play, and I did not want to put that on you. I thought that I was helping you, not stressing you out with my feelings.” 

You shifted against her, the look on your face causing Alexia to sink back into the couch. 

“Well that did the opposite. I was worried anyway. I’m always going to worry, baby. I worry less if you tell me what you’re thinking, though.” 

Now it was Alexia’s turn to shrug noncommittally. You had on that look, though, and Alexia knew she’d cave within a minute. 

“I am sorry, amor. I should have talked to you. I made you stressed and upset for no reason.” 

You sighed dramatically, leaning in to lightly kiss her cheek. “I forgive you. You better start keeping a journal though, and let me read it every night before bed. All of your feelings of the day, written down for me to look through. Then I won’t be mad anymore.” You joked, and Alexia snorted. 

“Fine, you write one too. All your feelings. We’ll trade, and never have to talk to each other.” 

“Perfect.” You smiled, leaning your forehead against hers. 

“Perfect.” She agreed, eyes shutting at the close contact. 

“I love you.” You mumbled. 

“Te amo mucho. Even when you get tears all over my car, and make me beg you to talk to me.” 

You pulled away rolling your eyes. “Fine. You can get your own ice packs, massage your own knee, and drive yourself to your grumpy playdates with Mapi.” 

“Playdates!” Alexia gasped, yanking you back down on top of her, and poking you in the side, making you giggle against your will. “You take away my massages, I take away yours.” Alexia warned. 

You turned to her, betrayed. “You like giving me massages as much as I like getting them.” You reminded her. 

Alexia smiled playfully, her hand creeping up the front of your shirt. You shivered at the contact, taking in the smirk on your girlfriend’s face, knowing exactly what she had in mind. “Do I like to give massages? I do not remember. You will have to remind me.” 

You rolled your eyes, but leaned in, Alexia dominating the heated kiss even as you hovered on top of her, though she was slightly breathless when you slipped your tongue into her mouth. That was Alexia, though. In control of every situation, except when it came to you. Evidently, Alexia didn’t always use her brain when it came to you, her heart took over, and she made decisions she wouldn’t normally make. It was hard to complain, though, when she looked at you like you single handedly made the earth spin on its axis. No, you couldn’t complain. You were her weak spot, and you knew how lucky you were to hold that position.  

-----

some angst and fluff for ya <3

#woso imagine #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #woso one shot #woso fanfics #woso imagines

[bryan360]

Here’s my note before I’ll get started….

(DON’T YOU EVER COPY FROM MINE OR MY FRIEND’S WORK, CHARACTERS, AND STUFF IF ONE OF YOU ARE IMPOSTERS WHO HAD HABITS OF PLAGIARISM! I WILL BLOCK YOU FROM MY BLOG IF I SEE YOUR POST WITH MINE OR MY FRIEND’S ORIGINAL WORK BEING EDITED ALL OVER! I’LL EVEN SHARE IT ONTO MY BLOG SO IF EVERYONE WILL SEE THAT YOU TRYING TO COPY MINE OR MY FRIEND’S THINGS FOR NO GOOD REASON WHATSOEVER! That will be all….I mean it.)

My Cystereo Fusion Glare Authentic Hi-Fi Wireless Earbuds - Extras (Comparison w/JBL Wireless Earbuds and More)

I’ve come back after few months ago when used to finished my previous review, but here I am back again for another take. This time is doing extras with my Cystereo Wireless Earbuds that I wanted to bring; especially last time when I’ve talked to you guys during my previous review. I’m talking about making a comparison with my other bluetooth device of the JBL Headphone that I originally owned since 2018. Though it's been few years ago if meaning that it’ll aged, but thankfully it still works fine after many times when using with my tablet to listen through music or watch videos. However the ear pads itself takes a torn of what I’m about to show you. That includes how long their battery life runs and better sound quality; depend on I’ll be using during my lifetime. What that being said, let’s go into it for the last time.

(1st and 4th Images) (Edited via PicsArt app)

As you can see it here when using my second iPad device to take photos, I did some comparison different by bringing both of my bluetooth headphone/earbuds items together. Just not to go much in details because its sizes and length; even trying to make back and front mostly with my JBL Headphone. When checking on the back of my headphone though (on the 4th Image) is for its ear pads if you look closely. As expected, it had gotten some rips when it show the soft material from the ear pads. I would to get it fix by getting a new ear pads replacement patched up, but at least nothing bother me when I’m using my headphone for days I’ve gone through.

Anyways when talking about how it looks, this is obvious not too hard to answer that they’re in different sizes and designs. While both are bluetooth devices, but using its buttons to play, pause, or tuning volumes are of course different. The Cystereo Wireless Earbuds had touchpads to function instead. At least nothing to differ.

Now for another thing when checking about their battery life run that I thankfully already charge 100%. However, this is happened back in last week I’ve been saving before I would’ve brought two bluetooth related items together. It was also a good thing about doing some recordings by timer, some calculating and using the EXIF Data Viewer site to see which had better battery run. I managed to take it one day, but the second one took me hours a lot before I needed to back to bed at eight. Here’s what I’m talk about while explain through things.

(5th Image)

Back in July. 8th, I started off with my JBL Headphone set at 6:53 A.M. I quickly set up the timer afterwards and going through YouTube app to listen any music I could find. While waiting for its battery life goes off within hours, I described the sound quality was good even years after owning it back in 2018. Though the ear pads gotten aged, but at least the soft material was showed still wearable for my ears to comfort. At 10:18 A.M. is finally here when the battery from my headphone stops. When checking the timer how much time I got, it saids about 3 hours, 24 minutes, 00 seconds, and 60 milliseconds. As for checking real time during the day, I calculated from 6:53 A.M. and 10:18 A.M. that it makes 3 hours, 24 minutes, and 10 seconds. It came close to match from what I had for the timer, but few more in seconds that I looked up. Nevertheless, it still the same as expected anyways.

Now for the second one is doing my Cystereo Wireless Earbuds at 10:20 A.M., but going through hours is taking this long that I would’ve saved it for another day. However this will be an opportunity to show off both of my earbuds’ battery life results than what I previously did in separated. Just hoping this will clear off to check the next one when using both earbuds are. Anyways, I set up the timer again after turning my earbuds on and so does listening the sound quality through watching YouTube videos. It similar of what I got for my JBL Headphone set, but it different than my wireless earbuds are; at least one of them had noise cancellation design. Sure wish that my wireless headphones had that or hoping to get another wireless headphones with noise cancellation design is something I’ll look up.

(6th Image)

For now though is checking the earbud’s battery life run to focus on. During which at 4:16 P.M. however, the left sided earbud turned off. I quickly took note of this by checking the timer while leaving on. Meanwhile though that my right sided earbud still running until 8:03 P.M. when its finally stops. I may regarding this a bit that I originally would’ve saved it for another day to understand my earbud’s battery life was. Just feeling tired, that’s all. I know from reading the manual that it supposed to have 8 hours of playback, but as I look up the timer and some calculations later that took me 9 hours, 42 minutes, 15 seconds, and 45 milliseconds. That was a strange answer to ever get that I would to try again. Though I had to admitted that it was impressive than what my JBL Headphones can take; especially both comparison differences for their battery life. At the end, I given much more appreciation to my Cystereo Wireless Earbuds for how better as I expected. That doesn’t mean I won’t toss off my wireless headphones though; I’m still keeping it with handle care….Unless to figure to fix the ear pads patched up or getting a new one soon.

Overall Thoughts:

It was came close to getting this done, but both of my bluetooth items was something to remember for. Both had good sound quality after listening through my second my iPad, but if I had to pick the most is with my wireless earbuds. My JBL Headphones took 3 hours of battery life in the morning while my earbuds took much more hours afterwards before going to bed. Proving once again that 8 hours of playback or more beats up 3 hours for my headphone’s battery life. On the side note is comfortable to fit my ears while listening to music with. At least knowing putting my earbuds was alright; just other flaws bother me is getting my earwax needed to be clean and sometimes it feels itches a bit.

Hope you guys enjoy another review check with my Cystereo Wireless Earbuds while trying to have some comparison with my headphones. It was at least trying my best to figure what both earbud’s battery life results are, but it does came close to what I have than my wireless headphones. Now I can take a break until I’ll be bringing my next items to review soon, but apologize for the wait when trying to bring my latest wireless earbuds part.

(7th Image) (Captured via Nintendo Switch screenshot)

Before I can go though, I happened to save this for last when doing my bluetooth connection on my other devices to show. While my Samsung Tab E needs rest, but using with my Nintendo Switch system after getting from past updates is the way to go. As you can see already that it finally came with bluetooth setting since Sept. 14th. 2021. This is something we’re hoping for after stuck using our headphone with jacks or trying to lower the volumes while playing in your room. I know I’ve been there sometimes. Now that we got bluetooth support, thought I might wanted to show this that I happened to use both of my audio devices already. They also work so well to adjust their volumes by buttons lowering to higher quality; at least in later updates. Nice! Thanks, Nintendo. Just would’ve brought it sooner in the first place though.

Previous Topic Reviews for my Cystereo Wireless Earbuds ⬇️

The Reveal (November. 14th, 2021) - Link Here #1

Part 1 (Box Cover/Unboxing) (November. 22nd, 2021) - Link Here #2

Part 2 (Main Items, Type-C Cable, and Other Accessories) (December. 7th, 2021) - Link Here #3

Part 3 (Charging Test & Battery Life Run) (February. 12, 2022) - Link Here #4

Part 3.5 (Charging Test and Battery Life Run) (March. 2th, 2022) - Link Here #5

Part 3.8 (Charging Test and Battery Life Run) (March. 26th, 2022) - Link Here #6

Part 4/Final (Bluetooth Connection) (May. 21st, 2022) - Link Here #7

Tagged: @murumokirby360 @carmenramcat @alexander1301

#photos #pics #cystereo #cystereo wireless earbuds #wireless earbuds #earbuds #extras #comparsions #compared #jbl headphones #wireless headphones #etc. #july 2022 #july 15th 2022

[floccinaucinihilipilificationa]

#sherlock #I am geniunly sorry for uploading a Sherlock comic onto your dash in 2021 #but sometimes I'm just sitting somewhere and suddenly I think #'the dog was a boy the whole time' #I do fear that this image is cursed a little so maybe do not look at it for too long friends #because last month I was rewatching Good Omens #and in that scene where Crowley has the Beatle haircut my upper body fell partly off the couch and I threw my phone into my iPad #which broke the iPad :( #so I went to the iPad man and he said sorry we cannot fix it but if you give us a lot of money we can throw it away #and give you a different one #I said 'okay :C' #so the man also said okay and added a note that the iPad was unreasonably greasy #and I had always thought that I was a usual amount of greasy :c #so after a few days I got the replacement iPad and of course all the data was gone #but I still had one very old backup #and on it were many drawings of golden retrievers and this very old comic #the lone survivors of Crowleys bad haircut and my greasy little fingers #so it might be cursed but I think it deserves to go out into the world #have a nice sunday everyone :) #be careful if you watch Good Omens #cw drugs

[yumeyooa]

revenge is brutally sweet | jeon jungkook

—jeon jungkook’s life so far has been going well. he’s the guitarist of the most famous band in the scene, he’s got the girl of his dreams, and everything he’s ever wished for is in the palm of his hands. what he doesn’t expect though, is to wake up one day in the middle of a controversy. what the controversy is, you may ask? a new band has been hitting the charts, and their lead singer is none other than you, a former member of the band and his ex-girlfriend.

➢  pairing: jeon jungkook x female! reader

➢ genre: angst | slight fluff | band au | slight highschool au | post breakup au | exes au | r 15 | guitarist! jungkook | vocalist! reader

➢ word count: 14.6k+

➢  warning: profanity | heavy drinking | toxic relationships | messy break-ups | self depriciation | bullying | messy closure | this is just very much super angsty

➢ love letter: AH SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG T_T I kinda drowned in midterms AHSHSHs but I hope you enjoy this fic <33 there’s more to this angsty collection to come so stay tuned!! 

navigation | collection masterlist

Life couldn’t be any better. 

This is what Jeon Jungkook constantly told himself every morning after his short, fifteen-minute shower while messily tousling his hair in an extra-soft towel as he takes in the dreary yet somehow vibrant view from his penthouse apartment, soaking in the sun’s rays. 

The city was busy, even though the sun had just risen and bloomed into full glory. The streets were filled with people rushing to get wherever they needed to be, cars driving past with the fervor of a shackled mad man on wheels. If Jungkook looked closer, he would have probably seen the black exhaust drifting in the air from the fumes of those ecologically damaging vehicles or the frantic looks on an office worker’s face as they hurriedly crossed the street obviously late for work. 

But alas, Jungkook couldn’t care less about the trials and tribulations of some strangers he didn’t even know. After all, his life was going great. In fact, he was literally walking on cloud nine at this point and felt like nothing had stopped him. 

Of course, it wasn’t always this way, which was why Jungkook appreciated his success tenfold. 

He, like every other success story, had started from the ground up. Music was something he had always dreamed of doing for the rest of his life. Ever since his grandfather had first shown him how to play the guitar, the melodies had wrapped their whimsical tunes around his heart and made themselves stay. It was fascinating to him how playing a couple of strings could produce such music that could move souls and bring smiles to people’s faces.

And ever since then, he was hooked. Every chance he got, he would play the guitar even if his parents tried to pry him off it. 

They wanted him to be a doctor after all, and there was no way in hell he was going to go by their wishes. While being a doctor was great, it didn’t ignite the same spark that music did, and for Jungkook, he would rather die than live a life without his flame running ablaze.

So, against his parent’s wishes, he pursued a career in music. It wasn’t easy, of course. At first, he had no support system for his dream. His friends and teachers ridiculed and discouraged him, saying that the future was bleak and he had no hopes of making it big. But if Jungkook knew anything about himself, it would most likely have to do with the fact that he was extremely stubborn and persistent, much to the disappointment of the adults in his life. 

So he continued. He continued reaching his dreams, joining every music-related activity he could at his age until he finally met Mr. Park.

Mr. Park was a bright man who came in one day as a replacement for their music teacher, who was an old lady who stuck to the classics and had a somewhat deceiving grading system. He came into class with disheveled hair, an unkempt tie, and when he turned around to write his name on the board, the whole class laughed as they could see his heart print underpants peeking through. 

But despite his clumsiness and seemingly carefree nature, Mr. Park was a master at his craft. He was the epitome of what a music teacher should be; exceptionally skilled, eloquent, and passionate about what he did. But Mr. Park had another talent that not many knew about, which was the eye for potential.

And Mr. Park saw potential in Jungkook.

He had taken Jungkook under his wing and taught him the ropes of music life. The keys of the piano, how notes were read, how symphonies were made. And the more Jungkook learned, the more he yearned for a life surrounding music. When he voiced his wishes to Mr. Park, expecting to receive the same rejection he had always known, he was pleasantly surprised to find out that he had his support.

Mr. Park was the very first person who saw that Jungkook could have a future in music. He was the very first person who showed Jungkook that there was a path for him to take that was far better than the path his parents laid out for him. A rocky path filled with trials and tribulations but ultimately reaped great rewards in the end. 

Like a moth drawn to its flame, Jungkook was attracted to the seemingly devastating path because somehow, amid the darkness, there was hope. Hope for a happier future, a future that wasn’t filled with regret and mourning but full of triumph and satisfaction. Jungkook would be a fool not to pursue the latter.

And thus, in hopes of finally seeing the light, Jungkook decided to start his own band. 

It didn’t start off right away, though. After all, no kid at his school wanted to be part of a band that, in the eyes of their parents, was a complete waste of time. Jungkook kept his small dream hidden deep within his heart, yet even so, it still burned with an unyielding passion. Even if years passed and no opportunity for him to start a band was in sight, Jungkook didn’t give up, knowing that his persistence would one day reap great rewards.

And finally, his chance came in the form of you. 

From the very beginning, Jungkook had always thought you were strange. In a prestigious school known for being the epitome of perfection and class, you were the odd one out, sticking out like a sore thumb with your disheveled appearance and undignified manner of carrying yourself. Almost immediately, you were set to be the outcast, ridiculed by your peers for your looks and mannerisms, even if, in Jungkook’s opinion, you weren’t doing anything out of the ordinary.

Unfortunately, the world is never kind to those who are different. 

Jungkook’s phone rings from where it is laid on his bedside table, the alarm blaring loudly, causing a shift in the once serene atmosphere of his apartment. Jungkook pays it no mind at first, choosing to finish drying his hair before finally picking up the phone, voice groggy and slightly annoyed from having his peaceful morning interrupted.

“Who is it?” He hastily asks, not meaning to sound as harsh. But could he really be blamed when it was 7 AM in the morning, and he wasn’t expected to show up to any scheduled event until noon?

“Jungkook!” An exasperated voice exclaims from the other side of his phone. It was Namjoon, his manager, Jungkook, quickly concludes. Although it was rare for him to call so early in the morning, especially in such a panicked state. Perhaps he forgot to inform him of a schedule? Although that was annoying, Jungkook wouldn’t really mind. After all, work made money. But if that were the case, it would have been odd for Namjoon to be so panicked about it. The man was known for being reasonably level-headed even in times of extreme stress, so perhaps it was something else entirely. 

“Did you read the news?” Namjoon quickly adds before Jungkook could ask what was wrong. At his question, Jungkook’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, quickly sitting down on the side of his bed and grabbing his iPad from the same bedside desk, unplugging the charger along the way. 

“No,” he says as he types up the password into the Home Screen, laying his phone in between the juncture of his shoulder and ear. “Is there something I should be concerned about? I mean, it’s not like I got into a scandal or anything, right?”

Wrong.

Well, partly.

The moment Jungkook opens his Twitter, he’s surprised to see more notifications than usual. Of course, it was a given for him to have a ghastly amount of notifications as a celebrity. He did have a large fan base, after all. But the numbers on his screen far exceeded that of what he was used to, and amongst those notifications tagging his account, one article stood out amongst the rest, and the headline made his blood run cold.

“What the fuck?” He whispers, staring at the article in shock as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. “Am I seeing this right, Namjoon?”

The man on the other side of the phone is silent for a while before Jungkook hears a sigh. “Unfortunately, yes,” Namjoon says, and Jungkook can almost imagine the way he’s probably rubbing his temples together while sipping his cup of black coffee in his office out of stress and frustration

“(Y/N) is back,” he says, causing shivers to run down Jungkook’s spine. “And apparently Jungkook, she wrote a song about you.”

 The day Jungkook finally mustered up the courage to talk to you for the first time was an experience, to say the least. For what felt like years, albeit it was only a few days, Jungkook had been observing you from the sidelines, watching as you were berated by his classmates, who apparently had nothing better to do with their time. 

A part of Jungkook always felt guilty for never standing up for you. He knew you needed a friend. Someone to confide in this hellish school that made it seem as if it were every man for himself. But he was a coward, raised and molded to never take a step outside the boundaries he had set for himself, like a doll.

Although, with Mr. Park's influence, Jungkook could finally break free from his shell, even if it were just a mere few steps. 

"Here," he says nervously, handing you a carton of banana milk that he had picked up from the nearest vending machine the moment he saw you storm out of the classroom in tears. Even then, your classmates had laughed, mocking how sensitive you were, which disgusted Jungkook. Didn't they have any ounce of shame for making a person cry like that?

You look up from where you sat on the school's staircase, eyes puffy from crying so hard, a stream of tears still flowing down your face. You looked like an absolute mess, and the sight only caused Jungkook's heart to clench even more. He sat beside you, albeit a bit distanced because he couldn't help but feel awkward. This was your first conversation, after all. 

You stare at him, not entirely understanding why he would extend kindness towards you. Was this a trick of fate? Was he doing this so you would someday do his bidding in the future? The kids of this school were scary, even scarier than the monsters that hid underneath your bed or the creatures that roamed around in the dead of night. Even amidst the light, they scared you, and you were terrified that the man offering you some banana milk would be just the same. 

"You don't have to take it if you don't want to," Jungkook says, after realizing you were staring at him warily, cautious over whether or not you would accept his gift. "Sweets always cheered me up whenever I feel down, and I thought maybe it would cheer you up too!" 

If anyone were to see your interaction, they would have burst out laughing from how awkward it was. You who were wary and cautious, and Jungkook who was awkward and shy. A stark difference between your usual timid behavior and Jungkook's confident act. In fact, if anyone else were to see this, they would have never believed their eyes. 

It was odd, after all. And you knew this very well. Which was why you were so confused at Jungkook's behavior. Why was he approaching you so kindly when everyone else ridiculed and shunned you out? You were different, someone who didn't deserve to be there. An imposter, an intruder. It didn't make sense for him to act friendly. 

"Don't take this the wrong way," Jungkook continues, setting down the banana milk in the space between the two of you as he fiddled with his fingers, a habit he had picked up over time. "I'm not doing this to mock you or make fun of you later down the line… I just really don't like the way they're treating you. It's not right."

You're stunned. Rightfully so. This was the first time someone had ever gone against what others did to you, despite him doing so behind the scenes. A weird sensation bubbles up from inside you, one you can't quite place. But what you do know is that amidst it all, there's warmth. Jungkook's words sounded genuine and sincere, not like the usual condescending tone you were used to hearing from the rest of your peers. 

He genuinely seemed to care. 

Jungkook's eyes widen in surprise when he sees you grab the carton of banana milk, opening the straw in pushing it through, taking a sip. You sheepishly stare down, not even bothering to look Jungkook in the eye before muttering. "I prefer strawberry milk… but this isn't that bad... I guess… Thanks…" 

His eyes gleam, happy that you've accepted his offering and watching with a content smile as a small smile of your own forms on your lips, a far cry from the mess you were mere moments ago. He had somehow managed to cheer you up, and that was better than anything Jungkook could ever ask for. 

"No problem. Next time I'll buy you a whole box of strawberry milk!" He exclaims, excited for what was about to unfold between the two of you. 

But he would have never expected this. 

And on this week's celebrity news: Former Vocalist of The 97, (L/N) (Y/N) debuts solo with her new single 'Move On', which fans speculate is a direct message to her ex-boyfriend and former bandmate Jeon Jungkook. 

"Fuck!" Jungkook exclaims, overcome with emotion, as he watches the news unfold in the conference room of his label. He had quickly made his way over the moment he saw the headline, confused, devastated, and most of all angry. 

What in the world were you thinking, dragging him down like that?

"Jungkook, calm down," Namjoon says from the other side of the room, trying to prevent Jungkook from destroying the room. Jungkook was strong. And if he really wanted to, he could turn the whole conference room upside down in a blink of an eye, and Namjoon really didn't want to deal with whatever consequence would follow should Jungkook actually decide that he'd destroy the conference room. 

"How the fuck do you expect me to be calm, Namjoon?" Jungkook asks, exasperated as he walks from one end of the room to the other. "This is going to ruin my fucking reputation. And it's all because that bitch is too bitter about our breakup that she decided to fucking write a song about it."

"Hey." Another voice calls out, stern and ready to scold. Jaehyun, the band's bassist, glares at Jungkook with as much disdain as he could muster, not believing the words that came out of Jungkook's mouth. "No matter how you feel about the situation. I'm not going to stand by and let you call (Y/N) a bitch. She was and still is our friend. Just because you're so caught up in your perfect reputation doesn't mean you have to bring others down in the process, Jeon." 

It was rare for Jaehyun to ever call Jungkook by his last name. The two were as close as could be, having been the best of friends for more than ten years and counting. Jungkook knew he could trust Jaehyun with his life and vice versa, so it shocked him to hear that his best friend was defending her. 

"But Jungkook has every reason to be mad, Jaehyun!" Another voice pops up, this time a more feminine one that has Jungkook's heart-melting just a bit. Eunha, his current girlfriend, and the one who was there for him when you left him. She was the band's current vocalist, and Jungkook couldn't feel any more grateful to have someone as supportive as her in his life.

"She's using a personal situation to make her more popular, all the while bringing us down in the process! There's nothing else to call her but a bitch when she's hurting the band she started with! Is that how she says thank you when the band's been nothing but good to her?

It's incredible, Jungkook thinks to himself, how he was able to find someone like Eunha. She was the most compassionate and understanding person in the world, a far cry from what you had become. Bitter, selfish, and downright ungrateful. You probably wrote that song out of spite just to get back at him when he did nothing wrong in the first place. You were crazy, and he was glad Eunha allowed him to see through all of your lies. 

"Shut the fuck up, will you?" Jungkook's eyes darted in surprise to Yugyeom, the band's drummer, who had just cursed at his girlfriend. He glares at the drummer, mad at the fact that the usual happy-go-lucky man was now acting bitter in front of his girlfriend, who had done nothing wrong. Were his bandmates woven that deep within your cruel lies?

"Excuse me, what did you just say?" Eunha asks, appalled, tears forming from the corners of her eyes, which only causes the anger within Jungkook to grow. How dare they. How dare they make Eunha cry when she was doing nothing but telling the truth?

"You heard me, Eunha," Yugyeom continues, paying no mind to the burning rage that was about to burst within Jungkook. "I said shut the fuck up. So what if (Y/N) wrote a song about Jungkook? Why does it matter? She has every right to. I mean, our next single is literally a song Jungkook wrote after the breakup, so why the fuck are you berating her for doing the same?"

"Because she's hurting our reputation!" Eunha exclaims, clearly frustrated at how Yugyeom and Jaehyun weren't getting her point. "And besides, she was the one in the wrong during the breakup. What right does she have to make a song about it?"

Jaehyun scoffs, glare intensifying, causing Jungkook to clench his fist at their hostility. "And how do you know that when you only heard Jungkook's side of the story and not (Y/N) 's? For all we know, Jungkook could also be in the wro—"

Before Jaehyun could finish his sentence, Jungkook explodes, immediately rushing over to where Jaehyun sat and grabbing him by the collar, causing the rest of the band and Namjoon to panic, trying to break them apart, while Eunha watches, scared. 

"You motherfucker," Jungkook curses, hand raised into a fist, ready to punch Jaehyun in the face with all the force he could muster. But before he could do so, Namjoon and Yugyeom immediately held him back, causing Jaehyun to let out shaky breaths as he glared at Jungkook, hurt, confused, and angry. "Why are you defending her? She was the one who hurt me! You're supposed to be my fucking best friend!"

"Maybe if you actually listened to what she had to say and what she was going through, then we wouldn't be in this situation in the first place," Jaehyun screamed back, anger slowly growing as each moment passed by. "You've always been like this Jungkook, self-centered and fucking mean. (Y/N) was right for wanting to leave."

"What did you say, you fucki—"

"Enough!" Namjoon screams, holding his ground. This had gotten out of hand, and it was beginning to stress him out, and clearly, that same stress was spreading through every single person in the room. This wasn't even supposed to be that big of a deal. All they were supposed to do was listen to the song you wrote, and come up with a statement, So why the hell did this turn into a full-blown fight?

Gosh, Namjoon needed a raise. 

"Jeon Jungkook calm the fuck down, or I'll have you on probation, you hear? The same goes for all of you. I don't want to hear any bullshit about who's right or wrong in the relationship. All I need is for us to listen to the song and figure out what we're going to tell the higher-ups. So stop acting like you're a bunch of teenagers and sit down."

Usually, Namjoon wasn't this scary. But there was a glint in his eyes that taunted the band. And they knew that in the heat of the moment, the best thing to do was to shut up and listen. Besides, he was right. The way they were going, no progress would have been made, leading to further complications. With a huff, Jungkook sits down, staring grumpily into space. He wasn't comfortable with what had just occurred, a frenzy of emotions bottling up inside him from the outburst.

Luckily for him, Eunha was quick to hold his hand into hers, soothing him enough to calm his nerves and mentally prepare himself for what was about to unfold. Because he knew he wasn't going to like it.

And true to his words, the moment Namjoon pressed play, he didn't like it. Not one bit. 

Jungkook couldn't quite pin why your song made his blood boil and heart clench. From an outsider's perspective, it was a good song. A really good song. As a musician himself, Jungkook would never deny that. You had a knack for creating some really great tunes that were out of this world, after all. It was the very thing that made him ask you to start a band with him in the first place. 

But there was just something about this piece in particular that seemed different. Your very aura was different, Jungkook concluded as he watched the video, listening to the way you screamed about how good it was that he was able to move on while you haven't. How you laced memories and fragments of your relationship and expertly wove them together to create a masterpiece that echoed into the very depths of his beating heart. 

It left a bitter taste in his mouth. Because amidst the chaos, you looked free. 

There was something beautiful about the way you were in the middle of a room up in flames, almost to the point where Jungkook knew that it was metaphorical. You liked metaphors. Jungkook remembers how long ago, when the band was just the two of you, you mentioned how metaphors brought out the beauty of the world. They made the ordinary extraordinary. They made the dull come to life. Metaphors were beauty itself, and that's precisely why you loved to play with them so much. 

It's funny to see how that part of you hadn't changed, even after how many years. 

"Jungkook?" Eunha calls out to him, a concerned look gracing over her face. "You okay?" 

Honestly speaking, Jungkook didn't know. The high of his anger had finally settled, and all Jungkook felt was a burning numbness scouring through his veins. It's laughable how mere hours ago, Jungkook was sure that today would be another great day to celebrate how amazing his life was. Yet, here he is, in the middle of a conference room, watching as you submerged yourself underwater at the last scene of your music video, feeling empty. 

He doesn't directly answer Eunha, afraid that if he were to say anything, unwanted words would slip from his lips, and he would unleash another round of chaos and hell. And he was too mentally exhausted to go through that again. So he merely nods, clasping Eunha's hand gently and sighing as Namjoon pauses the video, turning towards the group. 

"Well," Namjoon says, surveying the room to see the band's reactions. But who was he kidding? He knew damn well that the band wasn't nearly overjoyed seeing and hearing what their old friend had to say, especially Jungkook. The poor kid looked lost. "That's that. It looks too vague to be considered a song catered to Jungkook, so I'll inform the higher-ups that it has nothing to do wi--"

Suddenly, Jungkook stands up, causing a deafening silence to befall once more as everyone watches him with cautious eyes, afraid of what he was about to do. 

"I'm going to get a drink," is all he says, moving to head out the door. No one really says anything in protest, Yugyeom and Jaehyun still feeling the aftermath of the previous fight. Only Eunha seemed to be visibly bothered, scoffing at the rest of the team's reactions before quickly latching on to Jungkook's arm. 

"Babe, it's still early in the morning. At least let me accompany you?" She asks, that hopeful glint burning brightly in her eyes, to the point that it makes Jaehyun recline back in his seat uncomfortably, not liking the way she seemed so unnatural. You were never like that. And while Jaehyun knew it was wrong to make comparisons, he couldn't help it. 

You were his best friend just as much as Jungkook was. 

"I'll go alone," is all Jungkook whispers, shrugging Eunha off who is about to protest, but Namjoon is quick to shut her up with a gentle hand on her shoulder, shaking his head when she tries to chase after him. Jungkook needed to settle down and sort his thoughts through if he ever wanted a chance at getting through this situation with you. 

And maybe, just maybe, he could finally make amends. 

“Do you have a dream?”

This was the question that started it all, Jungkook supposed. He remembers the very day you asked him that one decisive question that, looking back, changed both of your lives. For good or for worse, Jungkook wasn’t sure. But as he reminisces the memories of the past and tries to figure out where everything went wrong, he couldn’t help the gut-wrenching feeling that settles within him. It’s so upsetting, in fact, that the moment Jungkook arrives in the pub across the street, he immediately drowns himself in a bottle of soju. 

The two of you were spending the lunch break in the empty stairwell, the same place where the two of you first met and the same place where the two of you gradually started to hang out. It was a quiet space, free from the condescending eyes of the perfection-seeking kids you called classmates. It was a space where you and Jungkook could be free, even for just a little while. 

Sipping on his banana milk, Jungkook looks at you curiously. You were staring at the strawberry milk he had bought you, fiddling with it nervously, not even bothering to look him in the eye. He wonders what goes on through your mind, what thoughts dance around within its hollow crevices, shaking you up and causing you to become a nervous wreck. Especially when the question wasn’t as bad as you were probably thinking. 

“Hmm, do you want the honest answer or the answer everyone wants to hear?” He asks back, looking up at the ceiling. For an elite school, they didn’t do well to maintain the more hidden areas. Was that a sign that they really didn’t care about things that weren’t relevant to them? Maybe. Maybe not. Jungkook didn’t particularly care. It was just more bearable t stare at the ceiling than sit in awkward silence, 

“Honest,” you say after a few moments, much more confident than a few moments ago. After hanging out with you for a few months and observing you within the silence of your conversations, Jungkook somehow knows that no matter what he’d do, you would forever be shy. Regardless if you knew someone well or not, the first moments of conversation would always be parallel to a first meeting. It was a curious thing, honestly. But it was more intriguing once he realized that your confidence grew the more you spoke. 

In a way, it was kind of cute. 

“I wanna make music,” Jungkook says after snapping himself out of his trance. He once again averts his gaze from yours, but this time it wasn’t to avoid silence, but rather to think, to immerse himself in his thoughts. Because this was the first time, someone had asked him what he truly wanted to do with life. The first time someone wanted an honest answer from him, not a polished response set up to please his parents and peers. 

“Not the classical kind, though,” he continues, smiling softly to himself. “Not really fond of it as much as you think.” From the corner of his eyes, Jungkook can see you gaping at him in surprise, and it causes him to chuckle. You were never really expressive beyond the weary walls of the seemingly abandoned stairwell. To the rest of the student body, you were expressionless. Someone who took all the beatings and ridicules with a blank face. As if you were a doll, waiting to be ruined. 

But here, you were much more alive. Much more expressive than Jungkook was used to seeing. It was as if the (Y/N) beyond the worn steps of the stairwell was an entirely different person. A mask you placed upon yourself to protect your heart from the cruel reality you had come to face. And Jungkook was more than fascinated at the fact that you had brought that mask down for him. 

“If I could, I’d do rock, maybe even some metal If I got enough courage,” he continues, smiling to himself unknowingly giddy at the sight of you. “There’s just something different about it, you know? The music runs through your system and gets you all hyped up; you just can’t resist it. And when the beat drops, it’s as if your emotions are on an all-time high, and it weirdly makes you kind of free. It made me realize that this was what music was supposed to be, I guess.”

“Wow,” you mutter, after staying within the silence of your initial awe. “That’s... poetic.” Jungkook laughs at the look of disbelief in his face, shooting his empty carton of banana milk in the air and watching in satisfaction as it lands straight into the empty trash can just right down the corner before turning to you, a grin high on his lips. 

“Oh, come on,” he whines, rolling his eyes playfully. “Why do you sound so surprised? Do I not look like I’d be a good musician?”

“It’s not that!” You quickly exclaim in your defense, flailing your arms in the air to avert Jungkook’s thoughts about the situation. Unbeknownst to you, Jungkook was only joking, highly amused at your reactions, wanting to see more. “I just assumed you’d be more into sports, you know, since you’re so good at it? If you ask me, you kind of look like you’d do well in either football or basketball… so I just kind of assumed that was what you wanted to actually pursue. Not that wanting to pursue music is a bad thing! It’s great, it’s just that rock is kind of unexpected....” 

You were beginning to ramble at this point, the shy sheep from within you bursting forth as you fiddled with your thumbs nervously, anxious to see Jungkook’s reaction. Would he be mad at you for assuming things about him off the bat? Probably not, right? You did initiate the conversation by asking him what his dream was, after all. Wait, maybe this was your fault. Gosh, you should have just asked any other question that wasn’t as deep. 

This friendship thing was too difficult for your liking. 

As you bury yourself in your thoughts, Jungkook couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. It was small at first, almost going unheard by you who was so deeply consumed by the matters of your mind, but the more Jungkook laughed, the louder he got until he was full-on cackling, much to your dismay, confusion, and shock. 

“What’s so funny?” You ask frantically, trying to make sense of his actions. Did you say something wrong? As far as you knew, you hadn’t, but what if you had and accidentally crossed the line? You hoped not. You really didn’t want to screw any chance you had at having a real, genuine friend. But to your dismay, your questions remain unanswered as Jungkook continues to laugh, almost as if he wasn’t planning on stopping anytime soon. 

“Hey!” You exclaim, pouting. “Stop laughing at me, Jungkook!”

“I-i’m sorry,” He says after a few more laughs, trying to wipe the tears that were beginning to form in his eyes. “I couldn’t help it,” He laughs again, although this time, it seems as if he’s calmed down, sporting a cheeky smile. “Your reactions are just something else!”

Jungkook watches as you become flustered, once more, much to his fascination and amusement. He’s never been the teasing type, or more like, he’s never had the opportunity to become the teasing type, especially with the perfect image he had to curate in front of his peers. But he liked this. He liked being friends with you. It made him all the more free. 

“What about you?” He suddenly asks after a while, feeling that it was high time to cut you some slack. You look up at him in confusion as if you had entirely forgotten why this entire conversation had happened in the first place. “Do you have a dream?”

It’s silent, yet this time, Jungkook notes, the silence is uncanny. It’s not the same comfortable silence that Jungkook is used to whenever he was hanging out with you. It was as if the silence had suddenly crashed down and enveloped the cheery atmosphere in its deceitful arms. A trap, if you will. 

And Jungkook was unsure whether he wanted to break free from it or stay there with you. 

But you take the first step, finally looking up to meet him in the eyes, and Jungkook can feel his heart sink just a tad bit from how empty and solemn they were. “I don’t think so,” is all you say, brushing off the concerned look on Jungkook’s face with a smile. “I’ve never really given it much thought. That’s why I asked,” you chuckle halfheartedly, staring up at the ceiling. “Although I think it would be nice,” you say, smiling a bit more genuinely. “You know, to have a dream?”

Jungkook doesn’t know what to say. How was he supposed to react to that, anyway? No matter how difficult his life was, he had always had a dream. It kept him going, made him push through no matter the difficulty. Dreams were the driving force of life. The hope amidst the darkness. To not have a dream, even just a small one, rattled Jungkook. 

It terrified him because now Jungkook realized that he knew nothing about you despite you being his first friend. He didn’t know the reason why you decided to become a living doll in the eyes of others. He didn’t understand why you subjected yourself to such suffering when, from the small talks you and Jungkook had with each other, you seemed to have a loving family. 

He wanted to help you, to be there for you. Because he wasn’t sure whether or not you were actually feeling lost. That’s what friends were for, right? Jungkook wasn’t exactly sure on how to do this whole friendship thing, but if there was one thing he did know, it was the fact that friends helped each other. 

And Jungkook would be damned if he couldn’t help you in any way that he could.

Soju bottles littered the lone table that Jungkook sat upon. At this point, he wasn’t sure how many bottles he had drunk, but it sure was many, more than he could handle if he were, to be honest, but amidst his drunken state, he just couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

Why was he acting like this anyway? 

He was supposed to be happy. His band was one of the most successful ones out there. He had thousands, if not millions of fans, who supported him in everything he did. So why, just why was this insignificant matter affecting him so greatly?

Was it because it was you?

“Dear, are you alright?” The old woman, running the pub asks, concerned as she sets down a piping hot bowl of warm hangover soup, which has Jungkook’s mouth watering to the point where drool almost seeps out, mainly because he only had a bite of a sandwich on his way to the office which Eunha forcibly made him eat. But even so, he couldn’t bring himself to eat, especially with the array of emotions that were burning deep within him. “Do you need me to call someone for you?”

Jungkook stays silent, not even bothering to respond to the old lady, who only grows wearier at the lack of response. He didn’t mean to be rude. It was just that he couldn’t find the strength to actually do anything but wallow in his own misery. His thoughts were going on haywire, with no place to land in sight. 

What had he done to deserve this? He was sure he had done nothing wrong, so why were you doing this to him when all he had done was, be nothing but nice to you? He had supported you ever since the beginning, and this was how you repaid him?

He doesn’t notice how the old lady leaves to call someone from the company, despite him not saying anything. It was probably for the best anyway. He was too out of it to even ask for help. The old lady was right and kind for going out of her way to do this for him. Although it made sense, after all, this specific pub was where Jungkook had been drinking ever since he had reached adulthood. 

Maybe she would call Namjoon? It was likely, but Jungkook hoped not. He was sure that if Namjoon were to see his sorry state, he would scold him until his ears bled out. Although he couldn’t really blame Namjoon, if any manager were to see their client drinking away their woes like he was, they would probably freak out. Primarily since he was known for drinking at most two bottles. Jungkook just really didn’t want to deal with Namjoon right now, especially after what had transpired earlier. 

He hoped that she would call Eunha. Sweet, loveable Eunha, who was there for him when the shitshow that was his breakup with you went down. Even until now, Jungkook was still in the dark of why you had left him and the band, but Eunha was the one who stayed by his side. Ever since he had met her two years ago when she first entered the company, they had become the best of friends. And now she was his girlfriend, and he couldn’t be happier. 

All of a sudden, a familiar voice wafts through the empty pub. One that has Jungkook’s head whipping everywhere it could to figure out where it was coming from. It was sweet, melodic even. But at the same time, it had a hint of melancholy and freedom? Why was the voice so familiar? Where had he heard it before? 

Jungkook’s eyes darted around, trying to see if he could spot the culprit behind his dilemma until they finally landed on the wide TV that sat in the middle of the pub, presumably for their customer’s enjoyment. And lo and behold, in his eyes, he sees you. 

It was a local music show where famous stars would often find themselves performing to promote their new music. He assumed you were there to perform your new single, the one song that had him sitting here broken and destroyed with pride in your chest. Did you enjoy this?

Did you enjoy knowing that he was broken because of you?

He hated it. He hated how bright your smile was the moment he caught sight of the camera focusing on you as the hosts began their interview. You were brilliant, cheery, happy. And it sickened Jungkook to the core. Why did it seem like you were doing fine when he was here all bothered? How selfish could you possibly be? 

But as much as it hurts him, he can’t find it in himself to look away. It’s a strange sensation that Jungkook couldn’t quite explain. Why couldn’t he avert his eyes from you when all he’s been feeling today was pain? It didn’t make sense. But honestly, Jungkook couldn’t tell what made sense anymore. 

He watches you sing, hearing those blasted lyrics that made him rage just mere moments ago. Yet, this time, the lyrics made his heart clench. Perhaps it was the fact that your performance seemed more genuine because you were singing live. But why? Why were you singing those lyrics as if they had genuinely happened to you? Jungkook never caused you any pain, so why did it seem as if you were hurting more than him? 

The thoughts were too much. It was driving Jungkook crazy, and all he wanted to do was drown in them. He didn’t want to think. Thinking heightened the pain that brimmed deep within his chest. He just wanted to float in the ocean of his misery and stay there, hoping that someday he would land ashore and the pain would come to an end. 

Maybe if he took one more shot, it would help? 

He pours down the last remaining soju into his shot glass, not caring if it overflowed and spilled out on the table. Rationality was far out of his mind at this point. All Jungkook wanted to do was do anything that would make him feel numb. 

He raises the glass shakily, ready to feel the burning sensation of the alcohol run down his throat, that temporary relief that made him sink deep down into this endless cycle of emptiness. Yet, it doesn’t happen. 

A hand shoots down to stop his wrist. It’s a familiar yet unfamiliar hold, something Jungkook can’t quite place. Where has he felt this hold before? He looks up, his eyesight a bit blurry from his drunken state, so he squints, trying to see clearly. 

Who was it? Namjoon? Eunha? Heck, Jaehyun?

Turns out it was none of them. 

When his sight finally clears, he gasps in shock, breath hitching in his throat as he takes it all in. Because the person, whose hold was familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time, wasn’t his manager, nor was it his girlfriend or best friend. 

It was you. 

The person, the old lady, had called to get him was you. 

Well, Jungkook be damned. 

When you got the call from the old lady, you were on your way to your new studio after finishing up a schedule you had prior. The past few weeks have been busy for you. Leaving the band and Jungkook was no easy feat. It was a decision that you knew was a high-risk, high reward yet at the same time had higher chances of failure. 

After all, even if you hated to admit it. Without the band, you had nothing. 

Sure, there was the fame that came with all of the band’s success. You were the vocalist, after all. It was exhilarating knowing that millions out there would be listening to your voice, singing music you created with people you loved dearly. But in the midst of all of that, there was nothing. 

Jungkook, Jaehyun, and Yugyeom had everything going on for them. A backup plan in case the band didn’t succeed. A plan B, if you will. It made sense. They had privilege dripping from the palms of their hand, after all. Even if they had their own troubles and doubts, they didn’t have to worry about finding another way out because there already was a path laid out for them in the beginning. 

You went into all of this, risking everything. 

It was a choice that you had seemingly made on impulse if an outsider were to look back at the situation. When Jungkook had asked you to start a band with him, it was during another one of your many lunch dates, as you two had jokingly called it. Only this time, the two of you weren’t sitting on the cold and empty stairwell, but instead, you were in the old music room. 

“I can’t believe this,” Jungkook mumbles to himself as he cranks the rusted door of the old music room open. People barely used it nowadays, much to his disbelief yet relief at the same time. He couldn’t blame them though, the brand new music room was much more enchanting, filled with top-of-the-grade musical instruments than anyone would drool over. 

Well, at least it meant that he could have autonomy over the room (even though that wasn’t really the case). “You’re telling me that you never heard rock or metal before?” He gapes in disbelief as he sits on one of the dusty desks, looking at you with an outraged expression. You sheepishly enter behind him, taking a sip of your drink as you took a seat beside him. 

“You never asked,” is all you say, shrugging. Jungkook looks at you once more incredulously, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes and ears. “That’s because I assumed you would have known what rock and metal are! They’re like the greatest music genres of all time. How can you not know it?”

You shrug once more, not really having an answer. Well, you did, but it was probably stupid. After all, if this was his reaction to you not knowing about rock and metal. What would his response be if he were to find out that the only music you’d ever listened to was classical and nursery rhymes? Yeah, probably not a good idea. 

“Well, get ready then,” he exclaims, bringing out his phone, much to your surprise. Model student and Mr. Perfect Jeon Jungkook breaking a school rule? Who would have thought that you’d ever lived to see the day? “Because you’re about to experience an awakening, I tell you. A revolution!”

It’s amusing, really. You had never seen Jungkook as passionate as he was at the moment. Was this what it was like to have a dream? His eyes lit up as if sparkles were floating around him. As if he were about to step on cloud nine and enter paradise. He was bouncing his leg lightly in excitement, a goofy smile on his face that kind of reminded you of a bunny. 

Maybe having a dream wouldn’t be so bad, after all. 

He immediately scoots over to you once he has his phone ready, grabbing his earphones and plugging it into his phone, handing you the other ear. You hold it, a small smile on your face, and hook it unto your ear, not really knowing what to expect but excited all the same. After all, this was the music that made your best friend passionate and hopeful for the future. For sure, it wouldn’t be bad, right? 

Well, to say the least, it was an experience. An experience you couldn’t quite tell if you enjoyed or couldn’t fathom. It was entirely different from the music that you were used to. From the bright and soothing tones came ones that were heavy and thundered on your ears. Yet, in a way, it was exhilarating. 

You could see why Jungkook was attracted to this style of music. In a way, it was unhinged, a little more rebellious than the traditional types of music you were used to. But that didn’t mean it was worse. In fact, that’s what made it more exciting. Jungkook was right. In those few minutes that he had introduced you to the world of rock, you’ve gone through an array of emotions, from confusion to thrill and excitement of the highest level. The rollercoaster of new sensations was, to say the least, intoxicating, 

Because immediately you got hooked. 

“Wow,” you mutter, looking up at Jungkook, who was looking back at you with lively eyes. “That was… something else.” 

“Right?!” He exclaims, immediately jumping off the desk to grasp your hands in excitement; it was endearing to see. Jungkook rarely got riled up like this. Music truly brought out the best in him, you thought to yourself, watching as he continued to dangle your hands in his. “Isn’t rock just amazing? Oh, what I’d do to pick up an electric guitar and play,” He sighs, and you can tell from the far-away look on his face that he’s daydreaming about something and the sight warms your heart. 

“You should,” is all you say, startling Jungkook out of his trance. “I think you’d do absolutely great in music, Jungkook! You should go for it.” Jungkook looks at you, stunned. He blinks, trying to process what you had just said, before clasping your fingers a bit tighter, unsure of himself. 

“Really?” He mutters softly, “You really think I can do it?”

“Of course,” you encourage with a bright smile. “If it’s you, then you can do anything!”

It’s silent for a moment, with Jungkook deep in thought. But you don’t necessarily mind, as more than anything, you understood the weight of your words. Being Jungkook’s friend meant that you stuck by him through a lot of undesirable moments, moments that both of you promised to never speak of unless it was absolutely necessary. 

You knew how much he longed for his dreams. Ever since that rather inspiring conversation you had around a week ago, you knew just how much Jungkook bottled up his true passions and desires, even though there were moments wherein he would freely let them out. 

“Then you have to be there with me,” he says, eyes filled with determination. “I don’t think I can do this without you (Y/N).”

Looking back at it, you chuckle at how swooned you were with Jungkook’s words. It was crazy to think that he had swept you off your feet with a mere ten words that ultimately decided the course of a good chunk of your life. You let him, and for that, you were to blame, But that didn’t necessarily mean that you regretted your decision in its entirety. 

Suddenly, your phone rings from beside you, and you grab it from where it lay in your purse, only to see an old number that you hadn’t seen in a while. It’s been a year, you think, as you accept the call, pressing your phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“(Y/N) dear! It’s been such a long time!” You smile at the cheery sound present within the old lady’s voice, although you can’t deny that you hear a twinge of worry within it. You used to go to her pub every so often back when you were still in the band. And the old lady had been such a sweet soul, acting as some sort of parental figure to you and your bandmates through the years. 

“It’s good to hear from you again,” you mutter, pleasantly surprised at her sudden call but also a bit suspicious because you had no idea what she was calling for. “May I ask why you’re calling me?”

“Ah!” The old lady exclaims, and suddenly the initial chirp present within her fades into a frantic tone that has your eyebrows furrowing in confusion, not sure what to expect. “Do you mind picking up your boyfriend?”

You blink, confused and startled. “I’m sorry,” you say, still not processing it clearly. “What was that?”

You hear a sigh from the other side of the phone. It sounds tiring, exasperated even, Which shouldn’t be the case since the pub usually opens up later at night. It was only open during the day for company employees. And what sane person would cause trouble with this much sunlight out? 

“Your boyfriend dear,” the old lady continues, sounding absolutely done, yet at the same time, the concern was still there, and you swear you hear the sound of glass falling in the back, causing your eyebrows to furrow in worry. “He’s been drinking for hours, and this is more than he’s ever drunk!”

You stay silent, letting it all sink in. The only person she could have possibly been referring to was Jungkook. There was no doubt about that. After all, the old lady’s pub was where you and Jungkook would often find yourselves having late-night rendezvous, drinking the night away as you bonded over whatever life was throwing at you within those moments. 

But now, the pub gave you nothing but pain. 

“Grandma, I’m sorry to tell you this, but me and Jungkook aren’t—”

“—So you’ll come, yes? Thank you, dear! Truly a lifesaver!” 

She hangs up. You stare at your phone in disbelief, shocked at the predicament you had unknowingly gotten yourself into. What were you supposed to do now? The responsible thing to do was to probably phone Namjoon and tell him about the situation. But with what had just transpired earlier today with the release of your single last night and your performance this morning, you’re not so sure he would appreciate any sort of contact from you. 

With a sigh, you turn to head towards the pub. No matter how much you hated Jungkook for the way he treated you within the last few stages of your relationship, you couldn’t leave him alone to wallow in his misery (even though there was a part of you that was secretly glad that he was torn because of you). It would be too cruel of you. Especially considering that Jungkook had been a significant part of your life. 

Huh, guess you haven’t moved on as much as you thought you had. 

Even just reaching the pub brought back memories that you wish wouldn’t resurface. You and Jungkook used to wrestle over who would open the door for the other, and more often than not, Jungkook won. But you weren’t one to lose quickly, even to him. 

The familiar jingle that came with opening the door brought a pang of nostalgia to your heart. When you and Jungkook would enter the pub, just ten seconds after the jingle faded away, the old lady would come out of her quaint kitchen and say

“Welcome home— Oh, there you are, dear!”

Not exactly how you remembered it, but it was still familiar all the same. 

“Hello grandma, how are you?” You greet with a solemn smile, watching with fond eyes as the old lady comes up to clasp your hands within her own. “Oh dear, I haven’t seen you in forever. Why haven’t you visited in so long?” 

You’re not sure what to say. How are you supposed to tell her that you left and broke up with the man she asked you to pick up? That would put her in an awkward position, and you didn’t want to cause stress for the already weary lady. 

“Oh, never mind that,” she says, luckily dropping the subject. “Come in, come in, your boyfriend’s over there drinking in the corner. Did something happen? I’ve honestly never seen him drink this much before. At this rate, he’s going to finish my soju supply before I open up for the night!” 

You enter the main area, and immediately you’re hit with the familiar, comforting scent of alcohol and home-cooked meals, as odd as it sounds. Although the smell of alcohol was by far heavier in the air, and as you turn to look for the source, your eyes land in Jungkook.

And you’re, for lack of a better word, shocked.

It was almost as if he was drowning in an ocean of soju bottles, with some of the alcohol dripping off the table and into the ground or his clothes. Partly because he was pouring himself another shot, which you know he can’t take.

He could barely handle two bottles when the two of you were dating, so why did it feel like he was drinking more than ten. If he wasn’t stopped now, something majorly damaging could happen to him, and as much as you never wanted to speak to him, you couldn’t just ignore him when he was literally on the brink of life and death.

You stomp on over to where he’s at, hastily quickening your steps as he’s about to down his last shot, and before you can even think about what to do, your instincts act on their own, and your hand reaches out to him, stopping him.

No words are spoken. Rather, you can’t find the words to say as you watch with solemn eyes as Jungkook looks at his hand confused. He tries to shake it, to move his arm so he can bring the shot glass to his lips, but you remain firm in your grip, clasping just a bit harder so he wouldn’t push through with the shot. 

He looks around, following the trail left by your grasp until he meets your eyes, and already you can feel the whirlwind of emotions bubbling up inside you. This was the first time you and Jungkook have met after the breakup after leaving the band. You never expected the two of you to meet this way. Although, you supposed life was funny like that. It liked to throw unexpected situations in your face, especially in the most inappropriate times.

You watch as he squints, trying to make sense of who you were before he gasps, arm slacking, falling into the side as the alcohol from the shot glass splatters into the air. He squints once more as if trying to ensure that what he was seeing in front of him was real before stammering. 

“(Y/N)?” He whispers, broken, voice breaking. You try not to let your emotions show, knowing that if you do, he’d only lure you back into him, which was something you did not want at all. You were done. After many months, heck years of being torn apart by him, you couldn’t afford any more pain. It would break you even more than it already did, 

“Hey,” you whisper back, breath hitching as you watch the way Jungkook’s eyes widen at the sound of your voice, loud and clear for him to hear. Even with his drunken state, he can’t deny the pang of nostalgia that runs through his veins once he finally registers that it’s you standing before him. In the flesh. Not a vision on TV or a picture of you from his memories. 

It was you. 

“What are you doing here?” He slurs, trying to reach out to you, but you move away, refusing him any form of affection. Because you two were too far gone for that. 

“Grandma called,” is all you say, the disappointed look in Jungkook’s eyes not going unnoticed. “Asked me to pick you up. Said you’ve been drinking more than you used to and… I can see that.”

You gesture to the empty soju bottles that littered the table with a grimace, turning back to Jungkook only to hear him scoff and point a finger to you accusingly, although with his drunken state, his posture was way off. “Who do you think’s to blame?” He asks, sarcasm laced within his tone. You raise an eyebrow at that, choosing to let him continue before you could offer back any sarcastic remark of your own. 

“It’s you!” He continues, slamming his fist to the table, much to your surprise. “You and your stupid fucking song…. I mean, what the fuck is up that?”

“What the fuck is up with what, Jungkook?” You quip back, eyeing his fist cautiously in the case he would do something dangerous that would either injure him, you, or if worse comes to worst, both. 

“Don’t play dumb with me,” He continues, and Jungkook can feel the irritation, frustration, and fatigue build within him now that he’s finally gotten a chance to let all these raging emotions out. “You know what you did! Why’d you do it, huh?” His voice grows louder, causing you to flinch as you move your chair back just a bit. 

“Why’d you have to ruin my fucking reputation?” 

All of a sudden, it’s like something in you snaps. 

You can’t believe it. You can’t believe the audacity Jungkook had to say something as outrageous and stupid as what he just said. The emotions that were already burning up within you finally exploded as you stared at him with all the anger and disbelief you could muster. 

And here you thought he was drinking because he had finally realized all the wrongs he had done to you. What a fool you were. 

“Excuse me?” You say, exasperated. “What did you just fucking say?”

“I said what I said (Y/N),” Jungkook continued, not noticing the way rage was about to take you into its waiting arms, only to allow you to explode upon him with all the pent-up hurt that you’ve accumulated inside you. “You and your fucking song ruined the band any my reputation. Is this how you repay me after everything I’ve done for you?”

You blink. The words slowly make their way towards you as you try to process them, letting out a chuckle at how ridiculous his words were. “Are you being serious right now?” You say, scoffing at how there wasn’t an inch of regret on Jungkook’s face. “You’ve got to be joking, right?”

You want to give him the benefit of the doubt. You want to give him a chance to prove your ears, mind, and heart wrong. That he wasn’t actually thinking those absurd thoughts that had your gut-wrenching and your heartbreaking after already being broken. This couldn’t be the Jungkook that you knew, right? He wouldn’t be this cruel, right? 

“Do I look like I’m joking?” 

“You piece of shit.” You spat without even realizing it, surprising Jungkook. He’s sobered up just a little from your outburst, looking at you like a deer caught in headlights. For a moment, you regret speaking without any thought. But the more you try to rationalize it, the more the anger burns. This was unacceptable. 

“Reputation?” You scoff, looking at him incredulously. “You’re fucking worried about your reputation when there are bigger issues to be addressed here?” 

“(Y/N) I—”

“Shut up, Jungkook,” you say, cutting him off coldly. “You don’t get a say in this when all you’re worried about is your reputation over a broken relationship with someone you’ve grown up with for the past thirteen years!” 

Wide-eyed, Jungkook gapes at you, and you, in your disgruntled state, take this chance to get back at him, unleashing all the feelings you’ve buried deep inside you. 

“You dare ask me why I’m treating you this way when you’ve been nothing but nice to me?” You mock, his words hurting more than they should. “Do you even bother to ask yourself as to why I broke up with you in the first place, Jungkook? Why I left? Did you even bother to listen to my song?” 

His silence echoes throughout the pub, further shattering any lingering hope that you had about the situation. “No,” he says after a while, firm in his belief as he stared back at you, although his gaze seemed as if it could easily water away. “Didn’t think it was necessary; after all I did nothing wro—”

“—You treated me like shit for the last two years of our relationship, Jungkook. That’s what you did wrong.” You exclaim, not wanting to hear his excuses. “Are you really this blind to not know? To not see your own faults?”

How could he? You think to yourself, the unbearable pain of this revelation thrumming through every fibre of your being. It was painful. Painful to hear that he hadn’t even thought about the situation through your lens. He was too absorbed with what he had going for himself that he failed to see the world through your eyes, and it frustrated you to no end.

Because that breakup broke you like no other. 

Choosing to leave wasn’t an easy decision, by no means. You had risked everything to help support Jungkook in hopes that you would find a dream of your own. You joined the band, knowing that you would put your family’s safety and security at risk instead of pursuing a more stable career like starting a business or becoming a doctor.

You became selfish to follow Jungkook, so of course, you were attached. 

Jungkook, in a sense, was your world. You suppose, looking back at it now, that wasn’t the healthiest decision you took for yourself. But at that time, you could not help yourself. He was your first friend, your first love, your first everything. Jungkook showed you the ways of the world and then shattered it without a care. Of course, more than any other breakup, it would tear you apart.

Because to be honest, loving Jungkook made you happy. You remember when he first asked you out. Probably one of the best moments of your entire life. It happened after your band’s first major gig to open up the local summer festival. The two of you were still calming down from the high of the performance, excited, thrilled to have finally been given the opportunity in front of a bigger crowd. It felt surreal seeing the fascinated faces and happy smiles as they listen to your music.

Jungkook was right. This feeling was incredible.

“Holy shit. That was amazing,” Jaehyun laughs, hugging Yugyeom before turning to hug you and Jungkook. “I can’t believe we just did that!” 

“Do you think they liked us?” Yugyeom, ever the timid one asks. “I felt like I made a mistake somewhere along the second cho—“

“—Who cares, man?” Jungkook says, cutting Yugyeom off with a playful slap to the back. “We just fucking performed our first major gig. This isn’t time to be wallowing down on our mistakes. This is a time to celebrate!” 

You and Jaehyun hollered in agreement, following Jungkook as he dragged Yugyeom backstage where the four of you packed up, took a few commemorative pictures, and made your way towards the nearest convenience store to celebrate the night with some good old ramen, ice cream, and whatever your hearts desired.

It was a fun night, one filled with laughter as the four of you joked about whatever your mind could think of. Jungkook boasted about how he was right about their band getting somewhere, of how Jaehyun and Yugyeom, who were much more hesitant in joining the band, and after months of no progress, we’re beginning to regret it, had nothing to worry about. 

Jaehyun and Yugyeom even mustered up the courage to do a speed eating challenge, grabbing about her round of hot piping ramen and racing to see who could eat it the fastest, despite the heat burning their tongues both literally and figuratively.

It was a night where for once, the four of you didn’t have to worry about life outside of the band. Didn’t have to worry about the social pressure from school or home, Didn’t have to worry about stupid tests or becoming the best, for once the four of you could just be yourselves. Unapologetic and free.

When Jaehyun and Yugyeom decided to pack it up and head home, saying that if they didn’t arrive before their dreaded curfew, then their parents would literally send them to the pits of hell, you didn’t notice the way Jungkook grew silent. Maybe you did, but you were too preoccupied with the nauseated looks on Jaehyun and Yugyeom’s faces as they headed towards the public restroom to flush out the ramen in their system. 

“Hey (Y/N)?” Jungkook asks once Jaehyun and Yugyeom are nowhere to be seen. You hum in response, turning to look back at him, and immediately your eyes become overwhelmed with worry at the serious look on his face as he gazes up at the night sky, seemingly nervous and scared.

“Will you go out with me?”

It’s unexpected, a bomb to your heart if you could call it. You gasp the moment the words flow out of his mouth, staring at Jungkook in shock. Did he really just ask you out? 

You think it’s a joke. A cruel trick of nature. But by the way, Jungkook nervously fidgets from where he sits, and his eyes nervously dart around. Like they usually do during nerve-wracking situations like these, you knew in your heart that his words were true.

And you couldn’t be more overjoyed because you had fallen for Jeon Jungkook too. 

Throughout your many years of friendship, you had gotten to know Jungkook inside out. You were there when he threw a mini tantrum over missing first place in the final exam by one point, knowing that his parents would be disappointed in him. You were there when the two of you went out to buy his first-ever electric guitar after months of saving up money secretly. You were there for him when he was convincing Jaehyun and Yugyeom to join the band, even when he was about to get into a fight with Jaehyun over the matter.

And like clockwork, you had fallen.

It wasn’t particularly hard to do so. Jungkook had this certain charm to him, after all. He was an enigma. He could draw people into his rhythm like it was nothing and have them follow to the beat of his own drum. Sometimes you wondered if there was a hidden secret with the way he could so easily attract people, but the more you hung out, the more you realized that wasn’t the case at all. He was genuine in everything he did.

“Yes,” you say without hesitation, causing Jungkook to whip his head to face you in the blink of an eye, mouth slacking in shock. He blinks, you smile, and suddenly a smile of his own is forming on his face, reaching all the way into his eyes. 

“For real?” He whispers, not wanting this moment to slip away from his grasp. He was so close to having you in his arms, something he’s wanted for the longest time, that he was afraid that if he spoke any louder, he would ruin any chance he got. But your reassuring gaze and gentle hold immediately calm the raging wave of anxiety within him. “For real,” you affirm, and suddenly you’re in Jungkook’s embrace. 

It’s a warm embrace, one that has you returning it back with the same vigor, the same excitement bubbling in your chest. This marked the beginning of a new chapter for you and Jungkook, one where the two of you would walk down the unclear path you have chosen, still remaining by each other’s side, but this time, with hands intertwined.

You just wished it didn’t go up into flames like this.

You blink, snapping out of your trance as you gaze at Jungkook. Once more, seeing the way his lips were pursed into a thin line, his brows furrowed as if he had a lot going on through his mind. Which was only fitting. He had to, or else this wave of hurt and pain would only intensify and turn into something you would never be able to control. 

Remembering the happy moments was something you had promised yourself not to do, for it only brought you into another world of pain after looking at how the two of you were faring now. But in the midst of agony staring right at you, you couldn’t help but let yourself reminisce in hopes of relieving some of that anger and hurt so you wouldn’t do anything out of hand. 

“Tell me, Jungkook,” you finally say after a moment of silence, and you want to curse yourself for the way your voice cracks at the end. You had to be strong. You had to get through this. Because there was no way, you were going to let Jungkook ruin you once more. “How do you think our relationship was going within the last two years?”

Silence befalls the room for what feels like the millionth time, But this one is heavier than the last. Jungkook looks at you with such a severe gaze that you almost falter, forgetting the fact that he’s drunk with the way his eyes bore into yours. 

You dread his answer, not knowing what to expect. With the way, he was acting, and with all the things he’s said and done, you knew that his words would only hurt you even more from here on out. You clutch the fanfic of your sweater tightly, hanging on by a thread. 

But he says nothing.

The heavy silence lasts longer, and the more it persists, the more disappointment and disbelief creep into the cracked crevices of your already broken heart. Was he really going to act this way? Saying nothing at all? Did your relationship mean nothing to him in the past 2 years? 

“Unbelievable,” you mutter, letting out a scoff as your eyes scan his figure. He’s hunched up as if unsure of what to do, what to think, or what to say. There’s probably a flurry of emotions running through his mind, but you don’t pity him. You hope it continues to weigh heavy, as it did to you for the last three years. 

“I was miserable, Jungkook,” you whisper, recounting the memories you had buried deep within, afraid to open them up again at the cost of your already fragile happiness. But to be truly happy, one needs to let go of all the agony locked within. “Ever since Eunha came into our lives, you started treating me like a side character, as if I wasn’t your girlfriend.”

“And no,” you say sternly, already knowing what Jungkook was to say by the way his eyes widened and his mouth slacked, an arm up in protest for your words. “I’m not blaming Eunha entirely, contrary to what you may think. Sure, her arrival started it all. Sure, there were times where she acted so out of line that I wanted to slap her in the face n’s remind her who exactly she was talking to. But I couldn’t. Do you know why, Jungkook?” 

His eyebrows furrow in confusion, and you take a deep breath as you gather your thoughts. This was the first time you were finally going to let out all of your frustrations that’s been building up inside you for the past few years. It was a nerve-wracking feat, but a necessary one nonetheless, as even in those few moments of speaking, you were starting to feel just a bit more free. 

“Because I didn’t even know who I was anymore.”

Jungkook’s never been this confused in his life. 

It’s as if you had dropped a bomb on him without warning, causing him to be in a frenzy. What did you mean? How could you blame Eunha? Eunha was a sweet girl who could do no wrong. She was there for him whenever he needed that extra support, whenever he needed someone to ground him in this cruel, unforgiving world. 

She was there when you weren’t and was a constant in his life. How could such a sweet girl like her be the catalyst of this catastrophic situation? It had to be a joke.

“You’re lying,” he mutters, shaking his head in disbelief. The pain in his heart was coming back again, and just when he thought he had finally gotten rid of that after drowning in alcohol moments ago. This was your fault. You and your stupid song, your stupid lies. You were driving me crazy.

“I’m lying?” You ask, and Jungkook looks up to meet your eyes, feeling another burst of pain shoot through him at the agonizing expression on your face. Why did you look so hurt? He did nothing wrong. He didn’t hurt you. He couldn’t have. He had always been there for you. He was the reason you could do what you could in the first place. There was just no way that misery was because of him.

“Jungkook, did you even realize that with how much time you were spending with Eunha, you weren’t spending time with me anymore? Remember how you used to walk me home at midnight after your time at the studio and my radio show? You stopped doing that ever since she appeared.”

Lies.

“For days, I stood outside the company for hours, waiting for you to bring me home because you promised that you’d never miss it for the world. And on the day that I finally decided to check up on you, worried that you might have been overworking yourself? I see you in the studio, laughing with Eunha.”

 Jungkook wanted to scream. He was stressed. He had to make music. Why couldn’t you understand that? 

“And when I confronted you about it? You shrugged me off, saying I was overly dramatic.”

You are. Jungkook insists in his head, thoughts spiraling. What’s wrong with him not bringing you home. Even if he was your boyfriend, he was not obligated to, right? You were supposed to understand him, right? That’s what lovers are supposed to do.

“I thought to myself, maybe you were right. Maybe I was overdramatic, so I did what you asked and shrugged me off. Yet, with each passing day, it felt like I was a stranger in your eyes. Do you even realize Jungkook that ever since Eunha came into our lives, we’ve only been on three dates?” 

You’re too demanding, his mind screams. Three dates? That was plenty for successful stars of your caliber. You had to understand that being under the limelight meant that he couldn’t reserve all the time in the world for you. 

His heart clenches painfully again, and Jungkook feels a sob hitch in his throat. 

“It hurt.” You cry, letting out the words that Jungkook wanted to say. “It hurt so much watching the love of my life and my best friend toss me to the side. Where was the you that promised that you’d always be there for me? Where was the you that promised to stay?” 

You’re crying now, tears streaming down your face as the words you’ve kept hidden for the longest time finally make their way out of your system. Every part of you was screaming in agony and pain, and you can feel the mended parts of your patched-up heart slowly break again. 

“Jungkook, I loved you. I loved you so much that I risked it all for you. I joined the band even though I wasn’t sure of our future because I saw how happy you were. You showed me what happiness could be, and I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that, but at the same time, you showed me firsthand real pain and heartbreak. And I don’t think I can ever forgive you for doing that.” 

No. Why? You had to forgive him. You were his best friend. Stop. Stop speaking. Stop it. 

“I left because I wanted to keep what we still had within our memories.” You whisper, remembering the night you finally came to your decision. Remembering all the times you cried and broke down, not knowing what to do or where you should go. All the times where you forced yourself to put on a smile on your face and act as if everything was fine even though it wasn’t. 

“And I hoped that in leaving, we could pick up all the broken pieces and create something new with them. Maybe it would not have been a relationship as strong as the one we’ve had before. But at least it was something. And at least I would have still had a connection to you.”

You’re calm now, in a much better headspace than before. But that didn’t mean the ocean of despair that you surrounded yourself in dwindled in the slightest. It was still there, waiting in silence for the moment it could envelop you once more into its treacherous arms and drown you in its suffocating whispers. 

“But what the fuck is this?” 

You can feel the tides begin to sway, and you will yourself desperately to keep them down. With how the situation was unfolding, you needed to be the bigger person. For your sanity, For Jungkook’s, and for the closure that you both needed, which you weren’t sure would ever peacefully come to an end. 

“I never thought that you’d think of us like this Jungkook,” you whisper, and much to your horror, a tear slipped from the crevices of eyes as you hurriedly wiped them, standing up to grab your purse as you stood to leave the pub, not caring one bit if Jungkook got home safely or not, you were too overwhelmed to care. 

“I thought you loved me,” You whisper as you turn to look at him one final time, and all of a sudden, Jungkook is hit with wave after wave of sadness, anger, pain, frustration radiating from you. It suffocates him, and the only thought running through his head were questions of him hurting you? Was this really all his fault? 

“But I guess you only loved yourself.” A chuckle falls from your lips as you make your first step out of the door. Not paying mind to the old lady who looks at you with a worried gaze, you turn to open the door of the pub, only for someone else to beat you to it. 

Lo and Behold, It’s Eunha. 

“You,” She gasps as she takes in your disheveled and exhausted state. Although that immediate shock quickly disappears as she catches Jungkook’s equally petrified state from the corner of her eye. She then glares at you, but you honestly can’t find the energy within you to care.

Because this was never about her in the first place, even if in some way she plays a small part. 

“What did you do?” Eunha spats as she rushes past you to go to Jungkook, not even bothering to hear you out. You sigh, gathering the last remaining buts of courage within clenched fists, and make your way out of the door, leaving Jungkook, your broken heart, and the memories you two shared behind for good. 

Not caring what he would do with those fragments in the end. 

“Jungkook!”

Eunha exclaims, immediately hooking her arms around him and hoisting him up into an embrace. “What happened? What did that bitch do?” But Jungkook doesn’t answer, thoroughly overwhelmed by the range of emotions that had just surpassed him from his conversation with you. 

Was it truly his fault? Was he the reason why things had turned out this way? There was no way right. He had treated you right, right? 

Jungkook tries to convince himself that he’s done nothing wrong, that he was perfectly innocent in this situation. But that nagging feeling deep within his mind and soul screams at him to finally realize the truth. He’s scared. He doesn’t want to know what lies beyond the bubble of happiness he had placed himself in. He doesn’t want to feel the agonizing pain he’s put himself through without realizing it. 

But not doing so would kill him more than knowing the truth ever will. 

So he opens the door to the truth and wallows in the misery of what he’s done. 

To be fair, there was some truth to Jungkook’s words. He had treated you like you were the most precious thing in the universe. And that was because, for the longest time, Jungkook did consider you highly special to him. You were his first friend, the first person he could confide his feelings in, the first person who showed him what love could be like. 

You grew up together, cried together, had your first drink together, stood on stage for the first time together. You had done just about everything together, and Jungkook cherished you more than anything in the world. 

In everything he did, he always tried to make you a part of it. Whether that meant buying your favorite drink or sending you pictures of whatever he was doing, Jungkook always wanted to help you see the world through his eyes because you deserved that much. 

Ice cream dates, sneaking out at night to have some chicken and beer, random dates at the local arcade, a stroll at the beach. You and Jungkook had practically done it all. So, where did it all fall apart? Where did Jungkook go wrong?

“Jungkook?” Eunha calls out, and Jungkook finally musters up the courage to look at Eunha, who was worriedly trying to get him to answer her. Her hold is familiar, something he’s been used to in the past two years, yet at the same time, something was missing within her warmth. An unexplainable feeling he couldn’t quite describe.

And then he realized it wasn’t you. 

Just when did he go astray? When did he start treating you like you weren’t the world to him? For sure, it wasn’t a singular moment. It was most definitely a culmination of many events that led up to his demise. But just how did it happen? 

He looks at Eunha’s worried eyes, those same eyes that he thought meant the world to him within those two years of your break up. Yet, for some reason, he just couldn’t look at them in the same way anymore. Not when there was this hollow emptiness in his heart that called out for you and only you, 

It was like a game of tug and war in his heart. He still loved Eunha; that much was for sure. But he couldn’t deny the love that he had for you as well. He remembered how Eunha was like a breath of fresh air for him. In the midst of all your nagging for him to take care of himself when he was working his ass off making new songs and dealing with management, Eunha was there to simply smile and encourage Jungkook. 

Like a fool, he got lured into Eunha’s charm and held onto it, not noticing that he was letting go of you in the process. 

His heart wails. It cries in pain and desperation of the love it has lost. Why did it have to be this way? Why was Jungkook such a fool? So consumed by his own selfishness, he abandoned the love you two shared and sought another, and now he was reaping what he had sown. 

You were gone. You would never come back. Whatever love you had between the two of you had left and died out. The world was cruel. It had given Jungkook so much hope yet took it away from him the moment he slipped up. Yet, he couldn’t really blame them. He couldn’t really blame you. 

Because he knew you had tried, he could see it in the way your eyes still cried out in pain when you see him. He could hear it in the agony of your voice as you sang passionately in your songs. He knew you did your best to pick up the fallen pieces and try to mend them back together. But all Jungkook did was rip them apart all over again. 

Life couldn’t have been any better for Jeon Jungkook until suddenly it was not. 

And he was the only one to blame. 

© yumeyooa 2021. All rights reserved. Copying, reposting, translating, and modifying in any platform aside from a03 and tumblr or by any means is NOT permitted and will be dealt with accordingly.

➢ taglist: @wearenot7withu @nadiaislas @bbydoejk​ 

#bts x reader #bangtan x reader #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jeongguk x reader #jeon jeongguk x reader #bts jungkook x reader #bts fanfiction

[todoroki-waifu]

Atsumu x F! Reader

Scenario: When you try to subtly confess to Atsumu.

Word Count: 1,970

Genre: Fluff and humor.

Warnings: Cursing, female reader, and some OOC-ness (maybe?). My first time writing for Atsumu and the rest of the Inarizaki team. 

————

“I get that she’s the most beautiful here, but we are here to check out the art, too.” Atsumu jumps slightly at a voice and hand on his shoulder. 

“‘Samu!" 

"Could you be any more obvious?" 

"I-I wasn’t doing anything!” Atsumu huffs, a blush attacking his face as he shakes off his brother’s hand. 

“Why don’t you ask her out already before someone else does?" 

"I’m working on it!" 

"Hey, who’s that with __(y/n)?” Suna chimes into their conversation, nodding to where you had been standing and admiring a portrait. The two see a man conversing with you, both of you very engaged in whatever topic that was being discussed. He brought out a small electronic device, looking a bit nervous as he showed you the screen. 

“He’s probably going to ask for her number.” Osamu replies indifferently, but did a quick glance at his sibling.

“What?!” Atsumu immediately leaves the group.

“Wait, but doesn’t that guy-” Aran questions, but Kita cuts him off while the others hold in their chuckles.

“Let him figure it out." 

——-

"So if you put your-” While you were listening to the young man who approached you, a familiar face made himself known.

“Hey, buddy, is there a problem over here?” Atsumu suddenly inserts himself in between you and the stranger. He stands tall, looming over the shorter male.

“N-no, there is no problem.”

“Atsumu-kun, he was just-” You placed a hand on his arm and tried to explain the situation.

“Don’t worry, __(y/n)-chan. I got this.” Atsumu gently pushes you behind him to hide you.

“Was there something you needed from her?” He continues. 

“No, si-sir. I-I was only trying to-”

“Well, if you ain’t got any business with her, I suggest you beat it.” The blonde twin glares at the male hiding behind his black device. He smirks victoriously, watching the scared stranger run away. He turns around to find you with your arms crossed and an incredulous look. 

“Why were you so mean to him?”

“Mean? What do you mean? Wasn’t he trying to hit on you?”

“What? No! He works here! He’s a staff member." 

"But didn’t he have his phone out to get your number?”

“Get my..-you mean his Ipad? He wasn’t trying to get my number, he was asking for my email so he could send a survey for us to fill out on how satisfied we were with the staff and the place." 

Atsumu had no answer, processing what he did to the innocent and diligent worker and to you. You must think he’s a crazy idiot for sure. 

"As funny and adorable that was, you’re coming with me to apologize.” You grabbed his hand, dragging Atsumu to find the man who he wrongly yelled at. 

“Yes..” He pouts, but obeys. You’re zipping through the crowd until you finally spot your target.

“He’s with someone else, but we’re waiting until he’s finished and I’m not letting go until you do." 

"I-I wasn’t gonna run away.” His cheeks heat up at your clasped hands, avoiding your gaze. 

“Just in case.” You continued to look forward, __(e/c) eyes too shy to meet his brown ones. 

“Thank you though,” You break the short pause, “I know it was a misunderstanding, but it’s nice to know that someone has my back.”

Atsumu directs his head to you, but is unable to see your face since it’s turned away with your finger busying itself with a strand of your hair. 

“Of course. Always.” Your heart skips at his soft reply. You feel a gentle squeeze on your hand and respond similarly, fighting back the smile that was eager to present itself.

“Oh look! He’s done. Let’s go.” You gently pull him towards the staff worker once he has finished speaking to the other customers. You’re about to release his hand, but Atsumu keeps a tight grip. Probably he’s nervous about admitting to his mistake, you assume. 

So you hold his hand just as tight, figuring he needs the support. You knew how much of a big baby he was.

But really, Atsumu was using this as an excuse to hold you just a bit longer. His fingers felt right in between yours. 

——-

You managed to take some great pictures wherever it was allowed, but the artwork that forbade photos, you captured in your memory. After touring around the entire museum, you and the boys were starting to feel hungry, so everyone agreed to eat at the nearest restaurant.

You saw a few people scattered outside and you volunteered to ask the host how long the wait would be. Osamu steps behind his brother and lightly taps the back of his knees with his.

“Remember, that guy works here." 

"Shut up, 'samu! I know that.” Atsumu huffs, red cheeks puffing out slightly as his friends laugh loudly. They stop as soon as you near them, telling the boys that there was a table open that could accommodate your party.

You sat in between the Miya twins which made you both nervous and happy. Your crush on Atsumu was getting worse every day yet you didn’t hate the feeling. You distracted yourself by looking through the menu, all of you deciding to share a couple appetizers before choosing your individual meals. 

“What are you getting, __(y/n)-chan?” Atsumu asks, brown eyes looking at you as he lowers his menu.

“Hmmmm, I’m not sure yet. I’m caught between number 8 and 9.” You point to the items on the main course list. 

“Oh! I was going to get the number 8. How about I get 8 and you get the 9 and we can just share? That way, we can get a taste of both. I’m curious about number 9 also.”

“Really? You wouldn’t mind?" 

"Yea, of course I wouldn’t mind!” He grins, folding the menu before placing it on the table. You copy him and wait for the server to collect your orders. 

You then bring out your phone, taking pictures of the boys and the restaurant’s interesting decor. Despite your school’s motto, you liked to keep the memories. 

“Ne, Atsumu-kun, mind if I borrow your phone? Your camera is better than mine.” Your cell phone was a few years old, but Atsumu just replaced his and you were waiting to upgrade yours. Part of you was glad that you hadn't yet because you were going to use this opportunity to see how he feels about you. 

“Sure. Here ya go.” He hands you his phone. 

“Thanks!” You start taking pictures of yourself, really impressed with the photo quality. 

“Take a selfie with me.” You change the camera view as you hold out your hand in front of you and Atsumu.

“You’re so far! Get close to me like you actually like me.” You say jokingly as you hear a few, muffled snickers around the table. Atsumu stutters a response, but you interrupt him when you start counting from three. 

“Ready? Smile!” You take a few shots before looking at each one closely.

“Yeck, I’m deleting that one. I look gross in there.” You weren’t satisfied with how you smiled and your eyes looked like they were in mid blink. 

“What? Don’t say that. You’re gorgeous!” Atsumu looks up at you after he watches you remove one of the many pictures. You blush at his statement, dodging his stare.

“Oh, ummm. ..t-thank you." 

"You don’t gotta thank me. It’s the truth.” Atsumu murmurs, but it’s coherent enough where you could understand him.

“Get ready with your orders. The waiter is coming.” Kita sees the server walking towards your table. You went first and while everyone else was focused on the waiter, you quickly dragged your finger around on the phone screen. You immediately closed what you were doing and handed Atsumu back his phone. 

Your heart was beating fast, but you kept a calm smile on your face as you casually made conversation with the volleyball team. None of the guys knew about your crush, afraid that they would make fun of you. Not that you believed they would, but you weren’t comfortable telling anyone yet. 

Except for today. 

You finally were going to tell one person about your crush and that person was Atsumu. You planned everything out for a while, thinking of every possible situation that could happen and how you would approach it. You were surprised at how smoothly your idea was going, but that made you even more uneasy. 

But you already made your move and hoped that he would notice the little message in his phone. 

———

Dinner was both fun yet stressful. Every time Atsumu would check his phone, your heart would jump at the thought of him seeing what you put. But he made no reaction so you assumed he had yet to see it. 

And you were fine with that. You’d prefer if he read it at home instead of in a public place. 

Everyone went their separate ways after the restaurant except you and the Miya twins. Your house wasn’t too far from theirs so they walked most of the way with you. Once you were close enough, you waved goodbye to the brothers.

“Bye! See you soon! And don’t forget to send me those pictures later, okay, Atsumu-kun?" 

"Yeah, I will! Bye, __(y/n)-chan!” Atsumu waved back before turning away with Osamu.

——–

Unfortunately, he never sent those pictures. He must have forgotten, but with how many days has passed, you believed he probably felt awkward with the little note you put. 

If he saw it. He never acted any differently when you saw him at school.

Maybe he never did see it? But you were too afraid to ask so you were just going to live quietly with your heartache. 

——-

“Oh, shoot! I forgot to send those pics to __(y/n)-chan!” Atsumu says loudly while he and Osamu walk home from practice.

“You haven’t sent them yet? It’s been a week.” Osamu shakes his head. 

“I forgot! I was too busy thinking of a way to tell her I like her. I gotta make sure it’s perfect.” The setter takes out his phone and taps on the photo album icon. As he selects and scrolls through the photos, his eyes become rounded at one particular image. 

It was a selfie of you and him, sitting close, cheek to cheek as you both smile happily. What made him pause was the heart drawn over the two of you with the words ’yes or no?’ written at the bottom.

“Ahh! ’s-samu! Look, look!” He shows his phone to his brother. “I think __(y/n)-chan likes me back! She put this on our picture!”

As soon as Osamu sees what’s on the screen, his eyes also widen slightly then suddenly smacks his brother at the back of his head. “Dumbass! That photo has been sitting there for that long already?”

“I told you already, I forgot! And she never said anything! Other than to send the pictures after we ate- Oh my God, 'samu, I really am a dumbass!” Realization hit Atsumu harder than his brother’s slap.

“I knew that a long time ago. Now, why are you still here talking to me? Shouldn’t you be talking to __(y/n) instead?" 

"You’re right! I gotta text her!” Atsumu’s hands were working fast in trying to find your text message conversation. Before Osamu could even make a snide comment, Atsumu becomes aware of a better alternative to communicate with you. 

———

On your way home, you received multiple texts from Atsumu, all saying the same thing.

Yes!

Yes!!

Yes!

Yes!!!!

’The hell? Yes to what?’ Right when you were about to reply, you saw an incoming call from the setter who made your heart skip a beat daily. 

“Hello?” You answer. 

“Yes! __(y/n), yes! I want to be your boyfriend!”

#haikyuu!! #haikyū!! #haikyuu #hq #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu drabbles #one shot #haikyuu one shot #hq oneshots #atsumu fluff #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu reader insert #atsumu x you #atsumu drabble #atsumu oneshot #atsumu imagines #submission

[dramaqueeenamby]

𝙎𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝗈𝖿 𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲 | seven

Parings: CEO!Chris Hemsworth x Stripper!OC // Words: 7.8K // Type: Series // Taglist: Yes/No (Inbox me to be tagged or removed) Warnings: Sexual harassment, racial themes, discussions pertaining to child death, miscarriage, alcohol/drug use, and suicide attempts. Angst.

A/N: I'm so sorry for the inexcusable delay in updates. This chapter is hella long and perhaps should have been split into two, but I promised ya'll some answers in the last chapter, so here they are!

“What is that haircut?”

“Why are you zooming in?”

Kaya said nothing, continuing to pinch her fingers to gain a closer look, her smile widening by the second. “Holy shit, you weren’t kidding. “

Chris rolled his eyes. “All children go through phases.”

“This is beyond a phase, my friend. Don’t even get me started on the outfit.” As she erupted in yet another fit of giggles, he took advantage of the opportunity to snatch the iPad away from her.

“Go to sleep.”

Quieting herself down, she wiped at her eyes. “No. Come on. I’m enjoying this, and like you said, you were a dumb kid. How were you supposed to know these photos would haunt you till’ the end of time?”

“Only if they get out.”

“Don’t tempt me with a good time, sir.”

Chris closed the app and looked over at her. “What about you?”

Kaya’s brow lifted. “What about me?”

“What about your phases?”

She snorted. “Absolutely not.” He continued to stare her down, prompting her to cave, a surprising move even for her. Kaya’s tenacity was typically much stronger than that. “Fine.”

She grabbed her phone and unlocked it, opening Google Photos and scrolling mindlessly. She knew that any horrifically embarrassing snapshots would be from as far back as her library went. The older the photo, the higher the likelihood she would regret ever caving.

It took roughly two minutes for her to locate a set, her eyes shutting and a small moan leaving her partially closed mouth.

He smirked. “Found it?”

“Shut up.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“You’re going to make me regret this, aren’t you?”

“Without a doubt.”

She couldn’t help it. She laughed. “At least you’re honest.” Blowing out a breath, she issued a formal forewarning. “In my defense, I was young and dumb.”

“How is that diff—fine, I will reserve my judgment.”

“Liar.” When he said nothing else, she took another deep breath and gradually pulled her phone away from her breast, twisting her wrist so that he could see the screen. “I give you, thebaddestputa69.”

She watched the corner of his lips lift upward as he fought off a smile in favor of a smirk. “Hotmail or aol?” Her surprise at his knowledge of the fallen email servers must have shown because he commented, “I’m old, not ancient.”

She matched his smirk and leaned over to whisper. “Hotmail. Definitely hotmail.”

“AIM username?”

“Come on, the same as my email. I wasn’t creative enough to have multiple aliases.”

He chuckled, grabbing her phone to examine the photo. “I certainly do not miss the peace sign era.”

“I’m pretty sure I used that same pose in all of my photos back then.”

He gestured to the plastered graphic that read ‘jealousy is a disease, get well soon’. “With the same masterful level of editing, I’m sure.”

“But of course, blingee and picnik were a staple.”

A comfortable silence befell them as he returned her phone, and she quickly swiped up to close the app. Kaya was grateful that he didn’t swipe right or left, something she was expecting him to do, if she was being completely honest with herself.

Kaya yawned and naturally laid her head on his shoulder as she reached over to grab the book she was reading when they somehow got on the topic of rebellious and wild phases of days of past.

“Are we th—”

“Finish that sentence, and I will personally throw you out of this damn plane myself.”

Kaya looked over at him, eyebrows furrowed, and mouth pronounced. “It’s a legitimate question.”

“No, it was a legitimate question. However, it stopped being one when you asked me the fifth time.”

“I’m just trying to keep the conversation going. Damn.”

“No, you’re just trying to pester me.”

“Look, it’s obvious you don’t want to hear me talk anymore, so I’m just going to shut my mouth for the remainder of the flight.” He snorted. “What?”

“We both know that’s not possible.” He finally broke his gaze from his phone as he looked over with that knowing smirk that she despised. “You always have to have the last word.”

“That is not true.”

“Kaya, you’re like a child.”

“Keep it up, and you’ll be the one who’s personally tossed from this jet.”

“See what I mean.”

Groaning, she threw her hands up and shook the book in her right hand. “This is the second book in this series.”

“And?”

“And I started the series when we were still on the taxi.”

He shrugged. “Read slower.”

“Chris!”

He laughed, reaching to place his hand on her thigh as she sighed while banging her head back against the headrest. “Relax.”

“Don’t you think if I could, I would?”

“You were doing great five minutes ago.”

“That was in the past.”

“Next time, we’re taking separate jets.”

She didn’t know why but hearing him refer to future happenings both excited and saddened her, for more reasons than one. She cleared her throat. “This is a work trip, right?” He looked down at her as she placed the book down on the ground and held onto his bicep. “You know, something for your company.”

He studied her for a moment and looked up, closing his eyes as he laid his head back against the headrest. “I have the cover of this month’s GQ Italia.”

“Fancy,” she remarked, still unsatisfied with his answer-non answer. “So, I was right. This is a work thing.”

Chris thought about what she said, what she asked, as well as his response before he replied. “They offered to contract a photographer in LA.”

Brows scrunched, she had to ask, now more confused than she was just a few minutes ago. “So why go to them?”

His silence only irked her, the seconds dragging into minutes, which felt like hours. Frustrated and impatient, she called his name again. “Chris-”

“Jesus,” was all she heard before his lips were on hers, palm of his hand pressed against her cheek. Everything else after that was a sensual blur. His other hand moved to her hip, pulling her onto his lap, never once breaking their kiss. She placed her hands on his shoulders, giving a light squeeze, inching her body closer to his, close enough to feel the heat that always emanated over him.

And then, it was over.

Eyes fluttering and breath staggering, she nearly whined when he ran his thumb over her swollen bottom lip.

“This isn’t work for me.”

----

“This is our room?”

Chris looked up and chuckled, watching Kaya spin around the middle, eyes soaking in their suite. He placed her bag near the closet while crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

“It is.”

Kaya nodded and grabbed the bottom of her sweatshirt, tugging it over her head. She extended her arm out and turned around, lifting a brow. “And we have maid service, correct?”

He eyed her. “Of course.”

Kaya smirked and let the garment fall to the floor.

Chris chuckled. “You wanna explain that?”

“What?” She played innocent, fingers toying with the waistband of her joggers as she began to shimmy out of them. “Staying in a fancy hotel where I don’t have t0 clean up after myself?” She walked toward him, moving to grab her suitcase so that she could find her next outfit. “Granted, we have the maid service at home, but—” Both Christopher and Kaya paused at her statement, equally surprised by how easily it flowed, but more so with the statement itself.

Defense immediately kicked in and Kaya cleared her throat. “I mean, ya know, your place.” She refused to make eye contact that exceeded ten seconds, grabbing the handle of her suitcase and dragging it in the direction of what looked like the bathroom.

“Dibs.”

Her feet weren’t moving fast enough for her liking. In fact, they were slow enough that Chris was somehow able to cross the room and grab her by her arm. She looked up, managing to remain calm while inwardly panicking.

God, please don’t let him ask anything.

“Don’t take too long.”

She swallowed. “Why?”

Her grip on the handle tightened when he moved his hand to her face, the back of it brushing against her cheek. Had he been paying close enough attention, he would have noticed the way she shivered at his touch.

“You want dinner, don’t you?”

-----

“This isn’t exactly what I meant.”

Kaya looked up from her pizza, pausing mid chew. “What? Pizza in Italy? This is goals.”

He intended to take her to a fine restaurant, one where only the elite could afford to dine. Instead, she requested pizza delivered to their room. Kaya never ceased to surprise him. “And why are you eating pizza with a fork?”

She shrugged, adjusting the thin strap of her shirt. “Because pizza is messy, and my life's already messy enough. I avoid when I can.”

Chris didn’t say anything, simply watching her eat. She caught his gaze and looked away. If she could, she’d go back in time and stop herself from ever saying what she did. It’d ruined everything. He’d been acting different around her since, and she hated that. She also hated that she hated it.

Since when did she give a flying fuck about what people thought of her? Let alone him.

It was out of character for her, and she didn’t like it.

She didn’t like it at all.

Similarly, Chris also found it difficult to focus on anything other than the encounter from earlier, but not for the reasons Kaya thought.

Not even close.

“So, what’s the agenda for this trip?”

He chuckled and brought the champagne to his lips. “And ruin the surprise?”

Her eyes narrowed as she replaced the fork with her fingers so that she could eat the crust piece by piece. “What surprise?”

“What kind of question is that? Who gives away a surprise?”

“Are you capable of ever just answering my questions with a straight answer?”

He pretended to think. “I could.”

“But?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“You and fun? Never realized they were synonymous.”

“I’d like to think we have fun.”

“We have sex. Really, really, great sex.”

“You don’t consider that fun?”

“Fun isn’t a strong enough word to describe it.” He lifted a brow, and she scoffed, tossing a red pepper packet in his direction. “Stop it. I am trying to have a mature conversation here.”

“Not quite sure how possible that is when both parties are inebriated.”

“Bullshit. You know damn well neither one of us is drunk. You haven’t seen me drunk. Hell, I haven’t seen me drunk in a while.”

The way her tone changed toward the end of her sentence garnered his interest. “Why not?”

She looked at him, her smile faltering as she nervously cleared her throat. “I—uh—I get really bad migraines, and Excedrin is the only thing that works for me.” Telling him the truth, well, a fraction of the truth, felt strange yet relieving, probably because she’d spent so much of her life hiding and lying that the truth was unfamiliar territory. “Needless to say, meds and alcohol? Never really a good combo.”

“You’re drinking now.”

“I haven’t taken any medicine yet.”

“Maybe you won’t have to.”

She smiled sadly. “I will.” A beat. “It’s all I have.” Kaya snatched another piece of her crust and swallowed fully before explaining. “That’s why my sleep schedule, if you can even call it that, is so fucked up.”

He thought about it. “Excedrin has caffeine.”

“An insane amount.”

“It helps your migraines—”

“And keeps me up in return.” When he grew quiet, she offered. “Trust me. The insomnia is much better than the pain.”

“I’m sorry.”

She grimaced, eyes darting in either direction. “Why?”

He sighed and ran his hands all over his face. “That’s why you get so upset when I wake you up.”

“I wouldn’t say upset.”

“You threatened to slit my throat in my sleep.”

“Okay, maybe I was a little upset,” she confessed, and they shared a laugh before his tone grew serious again.

“I’ll be mindful of that.” Head tilted to the side, a sign she was still confused, he continued. “So that you can sleep.”

She smiled teasingly, abandoning the last bit of her food, and pushing her plate to the side. “Is that consideration I hear?”

“It is.”

The way he was looking at her, the lack of typical sarcasm in his tone, it was both welcoming and conflicting. Crawling across the floor, she moved his plate to the side and climbed into his lap.

Hands on his shoulders, she lowered her voice and whispered into his ear. “Well, I’m up right now.”

He made a sound and brought his hands to her hips. “You are.” Her eyes shut when his lips moved to her shoulder. “You should get some sleep.”

Immediately, she coiled back and glared. “Are you serious right now?” He laughed, which only upset her further as he stood up, her legs locking around his waist. “It’s been at least 8 hours.”

“You keeping a timer or something?”

“Look.” She waited for him to place her on the bed before she grabbed the bottom of his shirt and tugging so that he laid back on the mattress. She quickly climbed on top of him. “If there’s one thing I know about us, we are ideal intimate partners. Our sexual chemistry is astronomical.”

His eyes drank her in. “Is that it?”

“Is what it?”

His voice lowered. “Is that all you think we have?”

At that moment, Kaya realized a couple of things. This was wrong. She was suddenly very much uncomfortable. And this was a mistake. This was why she didn’t tell the truth. It meant putting yourself at risk for being vulnerable.

She was never good with that.

Clearing her throat, she climbed off him and flashed a crafty smile. “I’m gonna go shower.” She couldn’t handle seeing his face, so she turned around, purposely pretending she had to look around the room to search for her luggage.

“You should know I hate sleeping with blankets.” Kaya needed to redirect the conversation to another topic. This was becoming all too much for her.

He sat up and rolled his shoulders. “So, strip the bed? Got it.”

“Absolutely not. I could freeze.”

“You just said—”

Kaya stood by the door that led to the living room area and smiled sadly. “I’m a hot ass mess, Chris.” A beat. “The sooner you accept that, the better.”

-------

We need to talk when you get a chance. Please?

No matter how many times she looked at the phone, a new incoming gray message never appeared. She waited and waited, even scrolling up only for it to bounce back with no change.

She missed Nia. She missed their banter. She missed making tik toks with her. And she especially missed the advice giving, of which she could desperately use right about now.

Something was happening between them. With her and Chris. Of which she didn’t know, nor did she understand. It drove her mad because it was a new experience, one where she didn’t feel as though she always had to walk on eggshells.

Being with Chris….

“God.” She ran her hand over her face. What the hell was she doing? She wasn’t with Chris. Not like that, anyway. This was a business transaction. They were both using each other for selfish purposes.

Maybe it was the sex. Nia always warned her that behind every sexual encounter, there was at least some trace of feelings.

Kaya always thought that was bullshit.

Now….now she wasn’t so sure.

“You alright?”

She looked up from her chair and saw Chris walk in. She chewed the inside of her cheek as he sat down in the chair opposite of her. Kaya took in his wardrobe, so casual and laid back. She’d never seen him in denim before, but he looked good.

She didn’t even know the photographer, but she was a fan. A billionaire in Levi’s? Iconic.

“How does it feel to dress like us common folk?”

“Poor.” He winked as she glared. “We should be done soon.”

“Don’t rush on my part. The snacks here are delicious, and who knows, I could play dress up.” She wiggled her brows and straightened when there was a knock on the door.

“Sorry to interrupt,” the photographer spoke up and offered Kaya a friendly smile. “You’re Kaya, yes? I’m Elena.”

Kaya was surprised by the fact that this woman was both speaking to her and actually knew who she was, so her response was delayed. “Yes. It’s nice to meet you.” She offered her hand and noticed the woman was staring at her. Welp. It was nice while it lasted. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“I’m sorry,” she apologized but continued to stare. “It’s just...has anyone ever told you that you have amazing bone structure?”

Kaya sputtered. “Not unless they wanted something from me.”

Elena smiled. “Well, I suppose this is no different.”

“I don’t understand,” Kaya asked, looking over at Chris. He was surprisingly quiet.

“How about we get some shots of the both of you?”

She immediately protested. “Oh no. I—I’m just here for moral support.”

“You did say you wanted to play dress up,” he reminded. She glared. Of course he would choose to speak up now.

She turned her narrowed eyes on him and harshly whispered. “Not while being photographed.”

He placed his hand over hers. “Relax.”

Kaya remembered that they weren’t alone and therefore, had to keep up the act. Even if it was starting to feel less and less like acting.

“I’m used to people watching, not photographing.” He lifted a brow. Laughing, she slapped his chest and took a deep breath. She looked over at Elena. “Will I at least get to see them before you pick which ones to use? If any.”

“Of course.”

Kaya caved. “Fine.” He kissed the top of her head and mouthed a thank you. “You owe me.”

“Sure, I do,” he dismissed, slapping her on her ass as Elena grabbed her to drag her away.

“Time to make magic.”

-----

It was a bad idea, one of many that had occurred, Kaya realized.

When she joked about wanting to play dress—up, she didn’t think that it would actually happen. She didn’t think that she’d become involved in his shoot. Kaya especially didn’t expect to have as much….fun as she did.

And she hated that, too. The fact that she managed to smile and laugh more in one setting than she had in, hell, longer than she could remember. She didn’t like it. She didn’t like it at all.

She really, really didn’t like the way Chris looked at her every time she walked onto set in a new look, and there were a couple of them. The way he focused on her, eyes taking in every bit of her form, all the way down from her shoes up to her hair. Like he didn’t want to look away. Like he couldn’t look away. She despised the way he held her when they were photographed together, often being the reason for her smile or laughter with his comments that he whispered into her ear, sneaking in a kiss against her temple or holding her against him.

It was all so domestic and sweet, and it made no sense.

He was starting to make no sense.

And she especially didn’t understand why she was putting off leaving the bathroom, having sat on the toilet for at least 15 minutes.

As if on cue, two loud knocks on the door pulled her from her thoughts.

“I’m coming, damnit.”

“That’s what you said last time. Come on, Kaya.” She was both surprised and annoyed that it was Chris. She expected it to be members of the glam team that he’d hired to help her prepare for the GQ function he was invited to, and of course, she was forced to accompany him. Turns out he wasn’t just chosen for the cover. He was man of the year. “We’re going to be late.”

“Maybe you should just leave me behind,” she muttered.

“Maybe I can just kick this damn door down,” he countered.

“Then you’ll have to pay for the damages.”

“Then I’ll buy the damn hotel,” he shot back testily. “I’m not going to ask you again, Kaya.”

She scowled and rolled her neck. Kaya knew he was being serious. The bastard could buy his way out of anything.

If only….

Blowing out a deep breath, she swallowed and stood, holding up her dress. It was undoubtedly beautiful, gold, a slit in the middle of her chest and on her left leg exposing more skin than she would have thought appropriate. Her curls were styled in a fancy updo, and her makeup was equally as bold as her dress, finalized with a red lip. She knew that she looked good, and that’s what scared her.

Chris had been looking at her like that all day, and she couldn’t keep handling it.

If she could even consider it handling. Managing was perhaps a better term. Poorly managing was the perfect term.

Kaya ripped open the door and plastered on a fake smile. “Happy?”

And there it was, his eyes widened and softened as he gave her a onceover. “And don’t tell me I look beautiful, cause’ I already know it.”

Kaya figured if she said it for him, she wouldn’t have to deal with the weird and uncomfortable knotting in her stomach that she experienced every time he complimented her.

And it worked, he said nothing, only helping to hold up her dress as they walked to the SUV that would escort them. In the car, she was also pleasantly surprised that he didn’t attempt to make small talk with her during the drive. She was certain, however, that it was because he took at least three different work calls during that time.

She made drafted Tik Toks in the meantime.

When they finally arrived, Kaya nearly ran out of the car right then and there.

“Is that a red carpet?” Her mouth dropped. “What the hell? You said nothing about having to walk a damn carpet that is red.”

He chuckled. Kaya realized his hand was on the exposed portion of her thigh. “Stay close to me, and I’ll take care of you. You’ll be fine.”

Kaya was used to having eyes on her, but that didn’t mean she liked it, especially when it didn’t involve money being thrown her way. “I don’t have to say anything, do I?”

He squeezed her thigh. “You’ll most likely receive compliments.”

“I can handle that,” she spoke more to herself than him. “Just long as no one asks if I prefer cats over dogs or whatever shit they ask.”

He laughed quietly and looked at her. “You ready?”

No. “Yes.”

Chris climbed out the car first so that he could help her out of the vehicle, and as soon as she stepped out, she cursed to herself. There were so many damn people. People taking photographs. People being photographed. People helping both the people the photographed and the photographers. And then there was her. She felt so out of place.

If he wasn’t already holding her hand, she would have grabbed for his.

Kaya used her left hand to hold up her dress, while making sure that she stayed close to Chris who led the way, smiling for the camera while sparing her glances every so often to assess her level of comfort.

Kaya played along, evoking a smile as she posed with him for a few photos. That’s when it started again. Like the photoshoot from a few hours ago, she found herself feeling less forced and more comfortable. Like, it was natural.

Like it was real.

Kaya was eventually allowed to stand to the side as he gave a few interviews, some in English, most in Italian. She’d meant to ask him earlier when the hell he learned to speak so many languages. This was the third she’d learned of. She had a feeling at least one or two journalists asked about her, because he would look in her direction and shoot a wink or something of the sort.

Her smile was a natural reaction.

The process was less daunting than she anticipated, not that she’d ever admit that to him. It was once they moved inside that Kaya realized they’d yet to reach the hard part. That hardest part was “socializing” with the guests, many of which were white, spicy white at best. She spotted some minorities but found that they were just as distant as the rest.

The vim of the event was welcoming, however, which confused Kaya to some extent. She simplified it down to the event was nice, the people were trash, and Chris was both an ass and a gentleman for forcing her to come.

He’d introduced her to a few people, most of which spoke poor English. That, she could acknowledge, was nice. Not the strained English, but his obvious concern for her wellbeing. He was going out of his way to make her feel as comfortable as he could.

It was also irritating because it resurfaced those damn knots.

They were seated at a table, and he was texting someone when she leaned over and tugged on his sleeve. Kaya also took a moment to appreciate how nice he looked. The man was something sinful in a suit. “I think I know him.”

He looked up, immediately locking his phone. “Who?”

She gestured with her chin. “The guy over there talking to the girl with the green dress. But don’t look at them.”

His eyes lifted to the ceiling. Right before he proceeded to look right in that direction.

She laughed despite her irritation. “What did I literally just fucking say?”

“I’ll never understand why people want to do something without actually doing it. I don’t have the time.” She shook her head. He was so impatient. “And how do you know him?”

She lifted a brow. He asked with a newfound sense of urgency. If she didn’t know any better, she would have guessed it came from a place of jealousy.

Kaya studied the stranger across the room again when her eyes widened. “I know. He’s that actor from that porn movie we watched.”

“We don’t watch porn, Kaya. We make it.”

“Stop it.” She leaned closer, hating that her smile contrasted the frustration she felt with how vulgar he was speaking in such a public setting. “And you know the movie where they…..ya know, basically the whole time, and he kept asking in that godawful delivery, are you lost, baby girl?”

Her equally terrible impression caused him to laugh quietly. “I think that is him.”

“I told you.” She spoke a little louder than she would have liked due to her excitement at being correct. “He looks better on screen.”

Chris glanced over at him once more and scoffed. “He’s scrawny.”

“Sir, not everyone is like you and built like a fucking tanker.”

“Not my problem.”

Kaya rolled her eyes and gathered her dress. “I’ll be back. I have to use the restroom.” She stood and leaned over, arms around him from behind as she whispered. “Try not to be too much of a dick while I’m gone, okay?”

He turned to look at her. “And where’s the fun in that?”

Turns out finding the bathroom was a harder task than she’d anticipated. She’d asked one of the servers while maneuvering through the crowd, but it also turned out that Kaya wasn’t the best with directions. She did find it, though.

Eventually.

Kaya was navigating her way back to Chris when she was stopped by a man in a suit along the way.

He was of average height, average build, and average attraction. She was immediately annoyed.

“Hi,” Kaya greeted with a tight smile.

“Hello,” he smiled. Add in average dental health. “You are very beautiful.”

Kaya realized he didn’t have an accent, either. American, most likely. “Uhh, thank you.” When she moved to walk past him, he blocked her. “Sir, I really should—”

“How much?”

Her eyes darted to either side. “I’m sorry?”

“Money is no issue, as I’m sure you can see, and I’d like you for a week.” He stepped closer, bringing his hand to trail it down her arm. “Longer even, perhaps.”

“Sir, I have no idea what you are talking about, and please do not touch me.” It wasn’t so much of a request as much as it was a demand. “Now, I really should—”

“You’re not American.” Kaya continued to be confused as hell when his eyes lit up with excitement. “That explains why you look so exotic.” Confusion easily morphed into rage as she finally caught on to what he was referring to. “I bet you feel di—”

“You’re disgusting,” she hissed, pulling away from him. “I am not a fucking prostitute—”

“Call it what you want, girl,” he dismissed. “I don’t judge. I can pay you well.”

“Go fuck yourself, you sick son of a bitch,” she cursed, turning away when he grabbed her arm. “Let me go.”

“You think that you’re special?” He’d taken on another tone, one that conveyed his anger at being rejected. “The fuckin’ stall I just pissed in is worth more than you, bitch.”

Kaya refused to allow him to see her cry, but she’d be lying if she tried to say that his words didn’t sting, especially his next verbal attack.

“You can slap on that expensive dress and let Hemsworth make you feel special, but I know, you know, and everyone else in this fucking place knows that you’re nothing but a cheap, illegal whore—” Panic arose when he moved his hand to the exposed skin of her thigh, squeezing tightly. His hand started to inch upward when Kaya acted on instinct. He cursed aloud while Kaya gasped as she realized that she’d silenced him with her fist dead square in the middle of his face. “You fucking bitch!”

Shock and fear took over as Kaya gathered the bottom of her dress and ran, as much as the gown and her heels would allow, that is. Certain he was going to chase her for retribution, she consistently looked back, unaware that she needed to be just as aware of what was in front as what was behind.

She shrieked and immediately went to pull herself away from the strong body she’d collided with.

“Kaya.” Refocusing her attention, she looked up and realized it was Chris. “Where the hell—” He stopped amid his statement when he took in her appearance and realized that she was crying. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” Kaya looked down, speaking more to herself than him. Not that it mattered. He was judging based on what he saw instead of what she said. He’d learned by now that her words rarely matched the truth. “Let’s just go—”

“Kaya,” he repeated, softer. Chris brought his hands to her face, forcing her to meet his gaze as he asked again, slowly. “What happened?” A strike of anger flashed in his blue eyes. “Did someone touch you?”

“No,” she answered, quickly. Too quickly.

The anger escalated exponentially. “Who? Tell me.”

Kaya could have slapped herself. She wasn’t helping the situation. She was making it worse. “It doesn’t matter, I hit him, and now he’s probably going to sue you—”

“Where is he?” Chris was looking behind her, eyes flaming. He was livid. “Show me. Now.”

“No.” Speaking was becoming an increasing challenge, especially against the backdrop of overwhelming emotions. Everything she’d been feeling, preventing herself from feeling, and afraid to acknowledge was gradually bubbling to the surface. “Just—just let me go back to the hotel. I’m messing everything up for you.”

He calmed for a second, realizing what was happening. Chris was unfamiliar with this side of her. Unfamiliar with seeing her so vulnerable. “What?”

Kaya suddenly realized that her eyes were burning again. She was fighting back tears. “I’ll give you back the money for the day, it’s—it’s fine, you’re better off without me here—”

Her offer to pay him incensed Chris. This wasn’t about the money. It stopped being about the money a long time ago, even if he hadn’t realized that until today. “I don’t want the fucking money, Kaya.”

She shook her head and closed her eyes. “Don’t—don’t say that.”

“Why? It’s the truth.”

“Please,” she plead. Control over her emotions was a battle she’d all but lost at that point. Her words, she was certain, would be next.

He raised his voice. Chris sensed, saw that she was uncomfortable, but he also realized that this was what she needed. A push. “Why?”

“Because this all about the fucking money, okay?” She matched his volume, accepting that her tears were going to fall no matter how much she willed them not to. She’d lost the war. “It has to be about the money, because if it isn’t then that means you care, and—you can’t, alright?”

He studied her, wondering if she realized this conversation was difficult for him too. He brought his hand to the side of her face. “Why is it so impossible for you to accept that I fucking care about you?”

She looked up, glistening eyes and wavering voice. “Because then I have to admit that I care about you too, and I can’t do that.” She spoke to herself, as if vocalizing it would cement a decision that was already out of her hands. “I won’t do it.”

“Why?” He pressed. Chris brought his other hand to the other side of her face, cupping it and moving closer. He gave zero fucks about where they were and who could have possibly overheard. “Why are you fighting this so hard?”

She pulled herself away from him, back colliding against the wall as she blurted, “because all I do is hurt the people I care about alright?” In that moment, Kaya realized she was so far gone that the point of return was no longer an option. Her mouth trembled as she struggled to form her next sentence, listing off names with her fingers as props. “Mami, Papi, Nia. Hell, my own brother is dead because of me.” A beat. “I’ll only hurt you, and I care about you too much to do that.”

“Kaya—"

A newfound heaviness started to weigh upon her chest, another blockade to her speech. “I’m standing here in a dress I can’t afford, a building I can’t even fucking pronounce, and with a man I don’t deserve.”

His voice lowered. “Did you ever think that maybe, just maybe, I don’t deserve you?” Kaya looked at him, her eyes softening before she squinted, her face scrunching up in obvious pain.

He took note of this. As invested as Chris was in finally getting Kaya to open up about how she really felt, her wellbeing would always be his primary concern.

“Kaya.” He placed his hands on her waist, steadying her. “What’s wrong?”

“I—” She blinked several times, blinding lights obscuring her vision. “I—can’t—" Kaya felt the firmness of his chest, inhaled the scent of his cologne, and heard her name on his lips before everything faded to black.

-----

She awoke on her side, body clutched against a pillow, and a thin sheet covering half her body. Never one to take her time returning to her senses, she forced herself to sit up, eyes still scrunched from the sleep.

Looking down she realized she was dressed in only one of Chris’s dress shirts, her dress discarded.

Memory returned as Kaya replayed the events that transpired prior to her slumber. The photoshoot. The party. The asshole.

Chris.

“I don’t care. Tell them to send it in the mail or something.”

She recognized his voice traveling from the living room area, prompting her to swing her legs over the bed, her toes submerging into the soft carpet. She’d never been in such a fine hotel where the carpeting probably cost more than six months’ worth of rent on her one-bedroom apartment.

“Evans, I don’t give a flying fuck about any of that right now. You can handle it. I don’t care.”

Kaya contemplated remaining where she was, eavesdropping without being detected. She quickly decided against it. She’d done enough.

Her feet carried her out of the room, and she stood in the doorway where she saw he was standing against the massive window that provided a breathtaking overview of the city.

Again, she considered leaving him be, but he either had exceptional peripheral vision or caught her reflection in the window because he spun around. Kaya’s eyebrows furrowed when she realized he was still dressed in his suit, with the expectation of the jacket and dress shirt which were both discarded, leaving the white undershirt.

Uncomfortable with the way he was looking at her, more concern than that, she settled onto the sofa, pulling a decorative pillow to her chest as she crossed her legs.

“I have to go,” he spoke briefly before pulling the phone from his ear and hanging up.

Kaya swallowed. He’d yet to speak, so she took the opportunity to do so. “Still don’t believe me when I said I’m a hot mess?”

“What happened tonight, Kaya?”

“Which part?” She knew that playing coy wasn’t the best route, but she was forever stubborn and would fight until she had nothing left. “Where I ruined your evening, assaulted a millionaire, told you one of my deepest secrets, or fainted in your arms? There’s a lot.”

“All of it.”

She looked away and licked her lips. Kaya felt cornered, absolutely trapped. Emotionally. She’d always assumed being physically stuck would feel far more suffocating and frightening. She was wrong.

Kaya considered her options, though far and few in between. She could deflect. She was a master at that. She could redirect blame onto him. Call him out on even making her go on the trip, for not telling her ahead of time what to expect, maybe throw in a few insults. And lastly, the most frightening of them all, she could be honest.

That was the scariest of them all.

“I lied to you.” The words spilled out before she realized it, but Kaya accepted the fact that she was tired. There was only so much she could carry, and she’d reached her limits. “My—my parents aren’t dead. They still live in the same house in Parlier that I grew up in with Denes. He’s—he was my brother.” It felt strange talking about, verbalizing what she’d quietly struggled with for so many years. And yet, there was a peace that accompanied the release. “He was such a beautiful little boy, but….different. He didn’t talk much, life skills were….hard for him, and he had these fixations on certain things. He didn’t like change.”

“Kaya, you don’t—”

“When I was eleven, and he was eight, my parents found out they were pregnant. They’d been trying for so long….they were so happy.” She roughly wiped at her face to do away with the silent tears that fell. The crying, however, was inevitable. “One day, they had a checkup appointment, and the babysitter fell through, so they asked me to watch Denes.” She nodded slowly, reverting to the same rush of emotions she felt that day. “I was so….mad, because my friend had just gotten Guitar Hero, and I was supposed to walk down to her house so we could play it.” To that day, Kaya felt a strong surge of rage whenever she ran across a throwback picture or read an article referring to that game. It was a trigger.

“My parents promised that I could go when they returned, but I just couldn’t wait.” Her nose turned up with disgust, disgust directed 100% inward. “I just had to go play that stupid fucking game.”

“Denes loved birds. They were one of his fixations. They think—they think he saw one outside our living room window or something and walked outside to see if he could catch it because, of course, I forgot to lock the front door.” She stared off into space before closing her eyes. “I had just walked into my friend’s house when I heard someone scream like I’ve never heard a scream before.” Kaya tugged the pillow closer to her chest and lowered her head. “I ran back so fast because I thought—I thought I could help him. I thought I could save him.” Her voice cracked. “—But there was so much blood, and he was so hurt—he died in the middle of the street, bleeding, terrified, and it was all my fault.”

Chris closed his eyes and shook his head. “Kaya—”

“They never found the driver,” she added quietly, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “The shock of it all……it was too much for my mom, and she miscarried.” Kaya laughed, but there wasn’t a trace of humor. “I spiraled after Denes passed. Everything bad and terrible I could get myself into, I did. I—I skipped class, I partied, I drank, I tried drugs.” She scoffed. “I lost my virginity when I was thirteen to some guy whose name I still don’t know because I was so drunk.” She leaned back into the sofa, staring at the intricate pattern of the rug. “I just—at the time, I thought if I did enough, I could make my parents hate me, because it’s what I deserved. But for everything I tried, they kept giving me chance after chance.”

“So, then I attempted suicide, twice, and I couldn’t even do that right.” She groaned and wiped at her eyes again. The cuffs of the shirt were nearly soaked. “I realized that God or the universe or whomever clearly wanted me to suffer and to live with my guilt, but in the midst of trying to punish myself, I failed to realize that all I’d done was cause my parents more pain.”

“Day of my high school graduation, I woke up at the crack of dawn to pack up my bags, told my parents that I was going out with some friends, but I’d be home by 7—and I haven’t seen or spoken with them since.”

She clapped and lifted her hands. “And there you have it. You’ve now seen me naked; you’ve seen me cry, and now you know that I’m a murderer—”

“You’re not a murderer, Kaya,” he was finally able to complete his sentence, still very much in shock over what she’d disclosed. “And what happened to your brother wasn’t your fault.”

Chris watched her demeanor soften, shifting from her previous facetious tone to a more somber tone. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“I’m saying it because it’s the truth. You were a child.”

She shrugged sadly. “So was he.”

“That still doesn’t make it your fault.”

She turned away from where he sat across from her. She hadn’t even realized he’d moved from his initial position by the window. Untangling her legs, she moved the pillow to the side and stood in front of him. “Why are you so nice to me? You should be running for the hills.”

Chris brought his hands to her waist and pulled her in between his spread legs. “Why do you keep asking questions you already know the answers to?”

“Even after everything I’ve done?” She whispered, emotion betraying her for the umpteenth time that day. “You—you still—you still feel….like that about me?”

“You’re stubborn, impulsive, argumentative, flippant, and undoubtedly one of the most complicated women I’ve ever met.” He slowly stood up, never once breaking eye contact as he cupped her face, fingers brushing away the dampness of her flushed cheeks. “And yet, seeing you smile is the highlight of my day.”

She chuckled and nervously cleared her throat. “So, was today subpar? Like, medium light? Half-light? It all went downhill after 12pm.”

He shook his head and kissed her forehead. “You are, in fact, a hot mess.”

Her fingers grasped at his sleeves. “I really am sorry about ruining your evening.”

“You didn’t ruin my evening, Kaya.” He brought his hand to her hair, pushing back the tendrils that had fallen from her updo. “Thank you for opening to me. I know that wasn’t easy.”

“It’s a lot easier opening up my legs,” she muttered, watching as he closed his eyes. “I’m sorry—you’re right. It’s—it’s not easy, and I don’t like talking about….feelings.” Her eyes lifted as she chewed on her bottom lip. “But, I do have feelings for you.” She shut her eyes and licked her top lip. “And there’s something else I need to tell you.”

His gaze softened. “Anything.”

It was so simple, the opportunity was available, the setting was perfect. She’d already told him the hardest part, now all she had to do was tell him the rest. The problem though, was that what she’d shared hadn’t changed much. It only helped him to understand her better. It would potentially improve their relationship.

This would destroy it.

She cleared her throat again. “If you tell anyone I’m capable of crying, I will smother you in your sleep.”

He chuckled and kissed her temple. “It’s late. I’m going to shower.” He studied her. “Try not to get into any more trouble, yeah?”

She smiled softly. “I make no promises.”

He gave her side a gentle squeeze before yawning as he walked back into the bedroom. Finally alone, she fell back onto the sofa and hugged the pillow against her body. Kaya felt both disgust and frustration. If there was a perfect moment to tell him, that was it, and now it was gone.

She was running out of time

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TAGS: @islandvamp @toni9 @destinyg237 @tashawar @valkryienymph @letsshamelessqueen-m @missyperle @kpizzletrash @brittyevans @mani-lifes @amorestevens @periodtcevans @hello-therree @shegoesbyarose @lettytheletdown @yanniebunnie @iwrite4poc @nycoledon @fangurlingismyforte @babe-im-bi @amirra88 @cocoamoonmalfoy @goldenrosexx @liquorlaughslove @ljstraightnochaser @jurneesjourney @bestyums-ever84 @notacamelthatsmywife @champagnesugamama @cest-la69vie @yanniebunny5151 @goldenrosexx​

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#chris hemsworth #chris hemsworth fanfiction #chris hemsworth fandom #chris hemsworth fanfic #chris hemsworth x black!reader #chris hemsworth x black!oc #chris hemsworth x woc!oc #series: seasons of love

[milkybonya]

In THE DaRk

order 004 for anon: large coconut milk tea (In THE DaRk by BOBBy) with regular tapioca pearls and fresh taro

Warnings: food mentions

Pairing: idol!Hui x delivery worker!reader

Summary: you deliver food to cube ent. and end up becoming friends with Hui, an idol who's at the peak of his career... but he finds himself falling for you even as his songs rise on the charts :")

Word count: like maybe 3k?

[a/n]: i love this request because i love this song and writing it while listening to the song on loop in the dark of my room just made me so happy? also i put wayyyy more effort into this than necessary and it turned out super long >.< i'm so sorry anonnie i hope you like itttt ahhh

Shine, you shine on my existence

Sure, Hui was an idol with a life of his own - especially now, during Shine promotions, that his group, PENTAGON, was blowing up. Yet he never failed to make time for you, because you were the light of his life.

As a hardworking idol who was always cooped up in his studio and skipping meals, his members encouraged him to at least order food. He was reluctant but eventually agreed, not wanting to make them worry.

That's where you came in: a delivery worker at a local restaurant not too far from Cube entertainment, Hui's company. A lot of people ordered from your restaurant to Cube, so you weren't surprised when a new order flashed on the iPad screen at your workplace.

"We've got another delivery, [y/n]," the worker at the front told you with a smile, walking to the back to tell the cooks what to prepare.

You tapped your feet against the ground, awaiting the order. Once it was prepared, you carefully placed it in your delivery bag, fastened it to your bike and off you went, wearing a helmet of course.

The gentle breeze was enough to cheer you up and give you energy, despite the scene around you being full of traffic and slightly bleak.

Once you arrived, the guards let you in without even checking your workplace ID this time, recognizing you as a trusted delivery person.

You made your way up to the floor listed on the order, roaming through countless hallways until you finally found the right room. Judging by the area and the doors, it seemed to be full of studios.

The person who ordered this must be working hard, you thought to yourself.

Suddenly, you got an urge to leave a note, wishing the person well. You took out a scrap piece of paper and a pen that you always had handy, your heart racing and your hands shaking at the thought of doing this. You were excited at the idea of the person being happy to see such a cheerful note...

I hope you enjoy this meal and that it gives you enough energy to keep working hard :) Go for it!

After neatly placing the food and note at the door, you knocked and walked away, not wanting to bother the person. Even though you didn't turn your back, you heard the door open a few seconds later.

"Thank you!" a voice echoed through the hall.

You turned quickly to say ‘you’re welcome’ in response and caught a glimpse of what seemed to be a young idol hard at work. His hair was messy and he had dark circles under his eyes, but his mismatches clothes and bright smile were quite cute.

You thought that would be the last you’d see of him, but from that day onwards, he always ordered food from your restaurant at the same time: 2:09pm. Why so specific? You weren’t sure, but that’s how it was, and you being the only delivery worker at your restaurant meant that it would always be you taking the food to him.

The second time you went, you were surprised to see a note waiting on the door for you.

Thank you for your cheerful message... I’ll do my best to work harder!

It made you smile and you decided to leave another note with his order, this time just asking him what his favourite side dishes were so you could tell the cooks to put more of those in next time. Instead of him leaving a note for you with the response, though, Hui decided to text you this time so he wouldn't have to wait for you to make another delivery before you could see his response.

Unknown: This is Hui! Ah, I ordered food from you at 2:09pm? I'm not really picky on side dishes, but one of my members likes kimchi, so could you make sure to leave more of that for me?

You: sure, of course! but how did you get my number?

Hardworking Hui: Ah, sorry! It was on the app since you're the delivery worker... for me to contact you in case you get lost? I'm sorry!

You: No, that's okay! i just wanted to be sure ^^

So after that day, you made sure Hui always got extra kimchi with his order. He would always greet you at the door of his studio, quickly asking about your day and how you were doing. Truthfully, he actually wanted to ask you to come inside so he could talk with you some more, because the two of you would always get an interesting conversation going before you declared you had to leave.

Since he was too shy to ask you in person, he texted you, instead.

Hardworking Hui: could you get the rest of the day off after delivering my order today?

You: why?

Hardworking Hui: so you can eat with me? if that's okay? or just take an hour off!

You: ...

You: Only if you pay for my food :P

Hardworking Hui: deal

So that day, you asked your manager for the hour off from 2:30pm to 3:30pm. She agreed, knowing that you always work hard and deserve a break.

Showing up to Hui's studio with his usual order and some food for yourself in your hands, you knocked a little nervously this time, knowing that this wouldn't just be a delivery, but a whole... hang out? Type of thing?

Hui had made sure to clean his studio to the best of his ability, making sure that there was another comfy chair for you to sit on and that the room didn't smell bad or anything. He lit a couple of candles and vacuumed the place so there would be no dust. When you knocked on the door, he jumped out of his seat with excitement, immediately opening it.

"Hi! Come in," he said, holding the door open so you could step inside. Seeing the cosy, dimly lit space left you in awe.

"It's so cool to see where you've been working away for all this time," you said, sitting down on a chair and putting the food down.

"Yeah... sometimes I get tired of it, but it's home," Hui said, sitting on his studio chair and opening up the food.

"Ah... where's the kimchi?" Hui asked, pointing at all the dishes.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I told the cook to include my favourite side dish too, but he must have just replaced the kimchi with this instead, I'm so sorry!"

Hui laughed, shaking his head.

"It's completely fine!" he said, handing you your favourite side dish.

As the two of you began eating, you were able to get to know each other more as you spoke and asked each other questions. Even though it was a little silly asking for each other's favourite colours and seasons, it was a lot of fun, and the two of you turned out to have a lot in common.

Tears are erased by my emotions / Add, add colour to the world

After that day, you weren't just a delivery worker for Hui, and he wasn't just a customer to you. The two of you became close friends, attending the concerts of your favourite artists together. Hui would joke and say that he was attending for work reasons, trying to gain musical inspiration, while you had no real reason to be there. You'd slap his shoulder lightly, telling him to watch his words while he'd laugh at your reaction.

Even though his work was stressful at times, it was days like those that seemed to make him cry in reverse, if that was even possible? You showed up and turned his world around, adding colour onto his black and white canvas.

His members even told him that he seemed more cheerful and energetic despite still working hard in the studio, and Hui even told you that his songwriting process seemed to be running more smoothly.

"I'm so glad we became friends," he told you, leaning his head on your shoulder one day as the two of you sat on a park bench. You smiled, strongly agreeing with him in your own heart.

But do you remember when I mentioned Shine promotions at the beginning of this? Well, let's skip forward to that point.

By then, you had seen Hui and his group perform quite a few times, whether it was at concerts, music shows or even on the TV at your home. You were incredibly proud of him and wanted nothing but for him to succeed.

Every time Hui found you in the crowd at any of his live performances, he'd feel some kind of crazy adrenaline rush as all of his tiredness just seemed to magically disappear. He'd perform as if rent was due just because you gave him the energy to do so.

"Was [y/n] watching us again?" Hyunggu asked backstage after another performance for Shine ended safely.

"Yeah, I saw them there!" Hongseok confirmed.

"Plus, you can tell by the way Hui is acting," Yuto laughed, nodding towards Hui who was frantically texting you asking you if you'd left completely.

You told him you were still at the venue, and he begged you to come backstage. When you arrived, you greeted all of the Pentaboys, who adored you almost as much as Hui did, before joining Hui at his makeup table. You greeted the makeup artist too, out of respect, before asking Hui why he needed to see you so urgently.

"We might win today... I just wanted you to be by my side as good luck," he explained, a clearly worried expression on his face.

It was a shock to you that despite Shine doing so well on the charts, Pentagon still had not gotten their first win, but you knew they were an amazing group, regardless.

What you doing now? What's your plan now?

You placed your hand on top of Hui's, which rested on his own thigh.

"Hui, I know you haven't been getting all the wins you've been expecting, but we can't deny that this song is absolutely a bop and you have all been killing it!" you told him with a smile.

You couldn't tell whether or not your words had any sort of effect on him because he was looking down, but you hoped they at least didn't make him feel worse.

The rest of the Pentaboys cheered hearing your words though, feeling energized at your honest observation.

Hui was looking down because his stomach was tied in knots at the feeling of your hand on his. It was something he'd never felt before... butterflies? He tried to shrug it off but he couldn't stop wondering about your intentions... did you place your hand over his for a reason? What were you trying to tell him? What were you planning?

Inside my brain, after making a place for you / You make it impossible for me to sleep

That night, Hui still couldn't stop thinking about your simple gesture. You didn't mean anything by it, right? It was just a friend comforting a friend... the two of you had been friends for a while now, so why was he thinking into this so much?

As feelings of sleepiness took over, he drowsily wondered what it would be like to hold your hand rather than to just have his hand underneath yours. What would it be like to be held by you?

-

The next day, with more promotions ahead, you made sure to send Hui a text of good luck. You wouldn't be able to watch from the live audience that day, since you had work and deliveries to carry out, but you still wanted him to know that you were thinking of him.

Hui couldn't stop staring at your message of good luck for the whole day, pressing his finger on the heart emoji that you added at the end of your message.

"Hui hyung, are you reading something?" Wooseok asked the leader, sitting beside him on the sofa in the waiting room.

"Huh? N-no," Hui quickly said with a laugh, tucking his phone away.

"You've been staring at your phone all day... what is it, is it a fun webtoon?"

"No, no! Don't worry about it," Hui laughed, ruffling the tall boy's hair.

Wooseok whined, yelling about how the stylist just did his hair. Meanwhile, Hui's heart was racing. Why had he been staring at your text message all day?

You: I'm thinking of you today, Hui! Go get em, good luck <3

Are you thinking of me in this dawn? / I wish there was a continuous portal from my room to yours

Again, that night, Hui couldn't stop thinking about you. This time, it was about the message you'd sent him. He still had it open and was staring at it. He wondered if, when you said you were thinking of him, did that mean you were thinking of him right then and there too? At the same time when he was thinking about you?

Were your sleepless thoughts filled with him, just like his were filled with you-?

Ring ring. Ring ring.

Shit.

He'd been staring at your text and holding his phone so tightly that he accidentally pressed the call icon next to your name.

"Hello?" you answered sleepily. It was 3am and you had been asleep.

"H-hello? [y/n]?"

"Yes, Hui, what is it?"

"I uh..."

He desperately tried to think of an excuse for calling you, any reason-

"I wish there was a portal that went directly from my room to yours."

Really, Hui? Was that the best thing you could think of?

His heart raced and he smiled as he heard your laugh on the other end. He didn't realize he'd balled his other hand into a fist until your laughter made him calm down.

"What are you saying, Hui?"

"I miss you..." he mumbled.

Despite being sleepy, his words still made you nervous. Your heart raced and you wondered what he was trying to tell you.

"I m-miss you too," you croaked out.

"Really?" Hui asked you, sitting up in bed.

"Yeah, really," you said, laughing. It wasn't a lie, either. You'd been watching all of his performances on your phone that day while working, almost falling off your bike because you were that invested. In him.

"Do you wanna meet up now?"

"Now?" you spluttered.

"Yeah... by the Han River?"

You paused for a while before answering.

"Let's do it."

Even if I breathe in the cold air / It feels sweet, so sweet

"AHHH IT'S SO COOOOLD!" Hui yelled into the night air, rubbing his arms and running around in circles beside you.

"Here, take my coat," you said, but instead just wrapping your arms around him.

Hui tensed up, wondering if your arm that was wrapped around his chest could feel his heartbeat.

"W-what are you doing?" he asked.

"Providing you with warmth," you said.

You also felt butterflies stirring within you, realizing that maybe you saw Hui as more than just a friend. Yet you shrugged it off, telling yourself that Hui was an idol and you were just a delivery worker.

You can't know my pathetic feelings / Even if I've confessed a hundred times inside my brain / I'm invisible to you

Hui stayed quiet, closing his eyes tightly and enjoying the feeling of being in your arms on this cold night. He knew this embrace wouldn't last and that maybe it wouldn't happen again, because in his mind, he was invisible to you. Just a friend who you goofed around with, but all of your jokes made his heart rush.

The two of you ran around the grassy banks of Han River together, laughing into the night and chasing each other like kids. Each time Hui caught up to you, he'd wrap his small frame around you so tightly that it made you lose your breath. You told yourself it was just because you were running so hard, but it was definitely something else.

As the sun was beginning to rise and the two of you were finally in your homes, trying to get some sleep, Hui imagined what it would be like to confess to you. What if he confessed right there and then when you hugged him by the Han River? What if he told you how much he likes you and... what if you felt the same? What if you cupped his cheeks in your hands and kissed him right there as the river reflected the starlight from the sky...? What if Hui would drop his phone in shock but would kiss you back more passionately?

No, Hui. No.

If I ever want you to feel the same / That must be greedy, that'd probably be a chance to peek into heaven / 'Cause you are angel

There was no way any of that would ever happen. There was no way you would ever like him back, at least for Hui. You were way too good for him, an angel on this planet full of demons and sinners.

Little did he know that you were also squinting at the sun, struggling to get some sleep as you thought of the way Hui would press his face into your chest every time he caught up to you at the Han River as you chased each other for fun. His bright smile and gentle laughter made your heart feel like the Han River itself, gently flowing along but filled with such a refreshing feeling.

After another week of intense Shine promotions, Hui feeling all sorts of emotions as Shine continued to soar while his feelings for you also grew, it became unbearable. The two of you would talk late into the night, whether it was sending texts because Hui was busy working or whether it was phone calls. Hui thought about you every second of every day and always missed you a ton.

Please know that I like you / I just want to be there for the rest of your life

Hui asked you to meet him in his studio one evening, as he knew your work schedule and knew that you were free. You agreed, slightly confused as to how he was making time to meet with you despite being so busy.

"Hui, I'm here!" you sang, opening the door to his studio and finding him sitting there in his chair, looking especially cute as his hair was slightly ruffled and he wore a big, comfy hoodie.

"[y/n], I have to tell you something," he said, with a slightly sad smile.

"Yeah, what is it?"

You grew worried, but decided not to make a fuss over anything just yet.

"So, for some time now.... well, of course we've been good friends, and I don't want this to ruin that if you don't feel the same..."

He sighed mid-sentence.

"Gosh, I don't know why I'm rambling," he said with a laugh.

You instinctively laughed along.

"Well, [y/n]. I like you... a lot. I know it's pathetic for me to feel this way when I don't even deserve you, but-"

"You like me?" you cut him off.

Hui nodded in response, looking slightly red now.

Nervous and absolutely bewildered, you starting laughing to yourself, making Hui worry if he'd said something wrong.

"Hui, I... I like you too, what the hell?! And here I was thinking I was pathetic!"

"You're not pathetic at all!" Hui said, grinning widely and bright red in the face upon hearing your answer to his confession.

Both of you nervously smiled at each other for some time before Hui broke the silence.

"I know... it may be hard to date me... well no, it will be hard to date me since I'm an idol, but I promise I'll give this my everything. It's a given, because of how much I like you and how lucky I am for you to even date me-"

"I never said I was dating you," you joked.

"What?" Hui asked in shock.

"I'm joking! Hui, it's okay. We'll get through these difficulties together, whatever they may be," you said, holding half of his face in your right hand, stroking his cheek with your thumb.

Hui leaned into your touch, closing his eyes.

"You're right," he said, before turning his face and pressing his lips to your hand.

#pentagon imagines #pentagon scenarios #hui imagines #hui scenarios #idol!hui au #hui fluff #hui x reader #idol!hui x reader #pentagon #pentagon hui #ptg icons #ptg scenarios #ptg fluff #ptg fics #pentagon fics #pentagon au #hui au #lee hwitaek #lee hoetaek #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop fluff #kpop au

[mldrgrl]

How Stella Got Her Groove Back

by: mldrgrl Rating: PG-13 Summary: Just a little something to celebrate spring...and Stella’s birthday!

They left Connecticut in September, with a fair amount of reluctance to go, but they needed to return to the city.  Becca had already gone and though both Karen and Fish insisted they were welcome to stay longer, stay forever if they had to, at a certain point, Hank and Stella had just been missing their loft and their life in New York too much.  Of course, they knew that what they were returning to was not the life they were accustomed to, but they would have to learn to adapt to the new normal.

Winter was long and brutal.  They did spend two weeks over Christmas and New Years back in Connecticut again and that was the first time they’d seen Becca since July, and the last time they would see her until spring.  Karen had tried to coerce them all to stay again and Hank and Stella nearly gave in.  If not for the fact that Stella left a project behind she’d been working on for her classes and if Hank had brought the pages he’d been working on for his new novel, they just might have done it.

When they got back to New York, and in a cabin fever-induced moment of weakness, they hired a landscape architect to design their rooftop terrace and though the noise of construction aggravated the hell out of both of them, they were both pleased with the results.  They now had an artificial lawn of soft green turf, an outdoor patio daybed in the shape of a cube with canvas shades on all four sides, a wet bar, strategically placed heating lamps, and a wood burning fire pit.  Unbeknownst to them, when Fish had heard their plans, he’d called the company they hired, ordered them a charcoal grill, and told the contractor to keep it a surprise.  They were very surprised by the barbeque that was suddenly part of the design, but it looked nice, even if it wouldn’t get any use.

Finding ways to fill the time with nowhere to go and no one to see was extremely difficult.  Neither of them were very much into television or movies.  The terrace, as welcome as it was, wasn’t finished until the end of February.  Stella had the classes she was teaching and the child psychology classes she was enrolled in to keep her fairly busy during the days, but Hank could only write for so many hours at a time and he found that he actually missed helping Fish with the guitar lessons.  He grumbled to Stella that ‘that damn Trout’ bewitched him somehow and then begrudgingly called him up and asked if he could still help out remotely.  Fish was delighted by the request and sent him an iPad and a teaching schedule.  

The close quarters had caused a few squabbles, though nothing major.  They took a few online cooking classes together which produced some mediocre meals and a testy exchange on the appropriate amount that constituted a ‘pinch of salt.’  Beyond that, they managed not to take out any frustrations on each other.

It was April 1st when Stella wandered from the bathroom to the bedroom in her t-shirt and sweatpants, rubbing lotion into her hands and arms.  Hank was in bed, perhaps naked, or perhaps wearing jockey shorts, she couldn’t be sure.  He had his guitar across his lap and his head back so that he gazed at the ceiling while he plucked lightly at the strings.

“Hank,” she said, leaning into the foot of the bed with slightly bended knees.

“Do you think ‘oral’ actually rhymes with ‘clorital’ or is it cheating?” he replied.

“You know that next week is my birthday.”

Hank splayed his hand out on the guitar and looked at her.  “Is this a trick question?”

“Not at all.”

“So, if I say ‘yes, of course, your birthday is April 7th and I already know I’m not to mention it to anyone,’ is that the wrong answer because I’m not supposed to acknowledge it in the first place?”

“I am aware that in the past I have requested that my birthday be treated as any other day.”

“Mmhm.”

“I’ve been thinking that perhaps...I might like to celebrate this year after all.”

“Oh, I get it.  April fools.  You could’ve just put plastic wrap on the toilet or secretly replaced my regular coffee with Folgers.”

“I’m serious.”

“Ah, so the one year it’s impossible to throw a party, you want to have a party?”

“God, no.  Parties are awful.”

“Well, what then?”

“Brunch?  With Becca?  This weekend, or the next, perhaps.  There are more places opening up now.  We could-”

“Absolutely, Sherlock.  Whatever the suggestion, I am all in.”  He pushed his guitar aside and she was mildly disappointed to discover that he was in his jockey shorts after all and not naked. He scooted forward to the end of the bed and wrapped his arms around her hips.

“A walk in the park, maybe?”

“Not sure if my legs remember what walking is at this point, so it’ll be good to remind them.”  He moved his hands down to the backs of her thighs and gave them a squeeze and then cupped her ass.  “Why the sudden change of heart, Sherlock?”

“I’ve just been thinking lately that it’s perfectly acceptable to want to celebrate being alive.  After the year we’ve had.”

“I agree, but as long as I get to have my breakfast in bed in bed that day, I’ll be happy.”

“It’s my birthday, I’m not bringing you breakfast in bed.”

“Oh, honey, you are the breakfast,” he growled, wrapping his arms around her again and pulling her into him as he fell back onto the bed.

*****

The Saturday before her birthday was Easter weekend.  There was no rain in the forecast and Becca was available, so it was perfect.  They took a Lyft to the upper west side and met her at a French bistro that had outdoor seating.  Stella could tell right away that something was bothering Becca, that she was putting on a false front of cheerfulness, which was very unlike her, but if she did know her stepdaughter, she knew the girl could not keep up pretenses for long.

They ordered and waited for their food over bottomless mimosas and miniature ham and cheese croissants served as an appetizer.  It wasn’t cold, but a cool breeze would drift by every so often and Stella was glad she had left her hair down so that her ears were covered.  She wished she’d been a bit more practical though and worn pants.  She’d just felt like dressing up and at the last minute, put on an olive-colored dress with small printed white flowers on it, but at least it was long-sleeved and she had a white sweater.  Becca and Hank were like twins in their matching leather jackets and dark jeans.

“Are you working on anything?” Becca asked Hank.

“Almost finished,” he answered.

“Oh.  What’s it about?”

“A couple that’s been married for fifteen years, but they’re on the brink of the divorce when the pandemic hits and then they go from spending almost no time together to all of their time together and it’s disastrous at first, but then they end up learning a lot about each other.”

“So, they save their marriage?”

“No, they end up getting divorced anyway.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“It’s fiction, sweetheart.”

“People like happy endings.”

“People are stupid.  I didn’t say it didn’t have a happy ending though.  Are you working on anything, Daughter?”

Becca sighed and picked at her nails.  Stella put a hand on Hank’s knee under the table.

“Is something bothering you, Darling?” Stella asked.

“No.  Yeah.  No.  I don’t wanna ruin your birthday or anything when it’s the first birthday we’ve ever celebrated together.”

Stella gave Becca a brief smile.  “I don’t know if your father has told you why I’ve always been rather reluctant to celebrate my birthday.”

Becca shook her head.  Hank stretched his arm out behind Stella’s chair and put his hand on her back.  She gave his knee a squeeze of appreciation.

“My father passed away on my fourteenth birthday,” Stella said.  “So, Darling, you have a high bar to overcome if you think being in a low mood will ruin my birthday.”

“That sucks about your dad, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.”  Stella looked to Hank for a moment and then back to Becca.  “I’ve spent many years trying to ignore the date as though if I didn’t acknowledge it, it’s like it had never happened.  I don’t think I really understood until quite recently that one is capable of being sad and grateful at the same time.  And that life should be celebrated.  Especially now.”

“I guess I’m just...when we were up at Mom’s house, everything was so easy and nice and I had a really hard time writing.  That’s why I wanted to leave.  It was way too peaceful.”

“You know if I had a dollar for every time Becca claimed my shit was fucking her up, I’d be richer than that fucking Amazon guy, and now it sounds like she wants to file a grievance that we’re not fucking her up enough.”

“Am not.”  Becca rolled her eyes.

“Don’t listen to him,” Stella said.  “He’s been so mired with boredom lately he has regular calls with Fish.”

“No!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Hank protested, putting his hands up in defense.  “There was and will only be one bromance in my life and that’s with one Mr. Charles Runkle, that follically challenged motherfucker.  No better pairing existed except for maybe Bert and Ernie, or Sid and Nancy.”

“I think we should let Becca continue with what she was trying to say.”

“Thank you.”  Becca put her hand up as though she was blocking Hank from her view and he reached over and slapped her palm away.  “As I was saying, I left because I thought the serenity was blocking me in some way, but since I’ve been back, it’s like the opposite.  It felt so apocalyptic at first and desperate.  It was like impossible to sit down and put words together when there were so many shitty things happening outside.  What if...what if the next thing I finish, people will be like oh, she was just sitting inside writing while everyone else was dying?”

“There will always be shitty things happening outside,” Hank said.  

“Great advice, Dad.”

“I don’t mean to bitchslap you with reality, but the world being shitty isn’t a reason to give up.”

“I’m not giving up.”

“Good, because you are way more fucking talented than I could ever even hope to be.”

“I just don’t know if it matters.  If anyone should care.”

“Why should you concern yourself with that?”

Becca glared at Hank, clearly annoyed with the answer.

“I know you think I’m being facetious,” Hank said, quickly.  “But, I’m not.  If all anyone wanted to read was about things that ‘mattered’ that 50 Shades of Hot Garbage would never have sold a single copy.  You don’t know why people read what you write.  Maybe they want to escape the shitty things happening in the world.  Maybe they want to laugh or cry or be turned on.  Maybe they just need something to pass the time.”

“Five minutes ago you just said people were stupid for wanting happy endings, now you’re saying I should just give them garbage, if that’s what they want.”

“Yeah, I’m a fucking hypocrite, what else is new, but I just want you to be happy with what you’re doing.  You want me to buy you a new laptop?”

“I’m not twelve anymore.  You can’t just buy my happiness.”

“Worth a shot.”

“Becca,” Stella finally interjected.  “I think it’s obvious by now that your father may possibly be the world’s worst motivational speaker.”

“Or the world’s best unmotivational speaker,” Hank said.  “You see what I did there?  I turned a negative into a positive.”

Both Stella and Becca ignored the comment.

“I think I may understand what he’s trying to say though,” Stella said.  “I’m not a creator, but I’ve been a consumer.  When I was reading for pleasure, I certainly wasn’t reaching for mystery novels.  And I think that...popularity and quality are two different things.  Certainly, one would hope for both, but it isn’t always the case.  I know you and I know that quality is important to you, so perhaps you should only focus on if what you’re working on is the best that it can be and not on whether or not it matters.”

“Can I add something to that?” Hank asked.

“Not if you plan on fucking up everything Stella just said,” Becca answered.

“I’ve done at least a dozen online events this year and at every single one, someone has asked me when the next Rebecca Moody novel is going to be released or they want to know what you’re working on.  I’m not even entirely sure all of them are there to hear my Q&A or if they just showed up because they know I’m your dad and they think you might make a guest appearance.  And if one person takes umbrage with you for creating something during a time of utter hell, fuck them.”

“Without art, the crudeness of reality would make the world unbearable,” Stella quoted.

“That sounds so much hotter when you say it than George Bernard Shaw,” Hank replied, rubbing his hand across Stella’s upper back.

“Okay, I don’t want to spend this day being miserable,” Becca said, shaking her head and shoulders like she was trying to rid herself of negativity.  “Thank you, Stella.”

“You’re welcome, darling girl.”

“Hey, what about me?” Hank asked.

“There is this jacket I saw online that I want,” Becca answered, cheekily raising one of her eyebrows and tilting her head.

“I’ll text you my credit card number later.”

“Thank you, Father.”

*****

Brunch was followed by a stroll in Central Park and it seemed that at least half of the city had the same idea.  It was interesting being in a place so crowded and yet also so open.  The decent weather and the cherry blossoms in full bloom probably had something to do with it.  What also would have felt strange a year ago, seeing everyone wearing face masks and wearing them as well, was oddly comforting.  When Stella had put hers on that morning before they walked out the door, Hank told her she looked like a sexy brain surgeon or cardiologist, whichever one was smarter or made more money.

When they came upon Bethesda Fountain, there was a small band playing salsa music and a few couples dancing.  Hank tried to imitate the steps and then grabbed Becca’s hand and spun her around under his arm.  She laughed and tried to break free of him, but he pulled her back in and tried to get her to dance.

“Da-ad,” Becca protested.

“Dance with me, Daughter.”

“I don’t dance.”

“You’re no fun.”  Hank let go of Becca’s hand and then grabbed Stella’s.

“Oh, no,” she said.

“Come on, Sherlock.  I know you’ve probably got some moves I’ve never seen.”

“I assure you that’s not true,” she answered, letting him spin her away though and then laughed as he gyrated his hips dramatically as he stepped back towards her.  “Whatever it is that you’re doing does not resemble the salsa in any way.”

“Let me see you do better.”

Stella looked past Hank to the other dancers and mimicked the forward and back steps.  She put a hand on Hank’s chest to keep him at arm’s length and prevent their knees from colliding as he tried to fall into the same step with her, moving forward when she stepped back, and back when she stepped forward.  What he lacked in grace, he made up for with enthusiasm.  As soon as they fell into sync, he grabbed her hand and lifted her other arm in a more formal dance frame like the other dancers had.

What followed was probably the worst and most amateurish version of a salsa that had ever been danced, but Stella laughed so hard it brought tears to her eyes.  When the music ended, Hank stopped and pulled Stella’s face mask down under her chin before lowering his own and then kissing her through both of their laughter.

The dancing couples broke apart and drifted back into the crowd.  Becca went over and dropped some money into the cup on the ground in front of the band and thanked them for playing.  Stella took Hank’s hand and then Becca linked her arm with Stella’s as they continued on.

Later that night, when Stella came out of the bathroom as she rubbed lotion into her hands and arms, she stopped at the foot of the bed and watched Hank read over the latest pages of his novel.  When she was finished, she climbed onto the bed and walked over to Hank on her knees until she was straddling his lap.  He threw his pages down, took his reading glasses off, and pulled her close with his hands on her ass.

“Thank you,” Stella said, as Hank kissed the side of her neck.

“For what?”

“This truly was the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

“Your birthday’s not until Wednesday.”

“Perhaps next year we’ll even be able to invite Karen and Fish to town.”

“We’ll make The Trout christen that barbeque he forced on us.”

“It does look nice though.”

“It really does.  You want your present now, or should I wait until Wednesday?”

“I might be interested in a preview,” she said, sliding her hand down his chest and then into his shorts.  “A little peak at the package ahead of time.”

“You just assumed I was talking about fucking when I said I had something for you?”

“Weren’t you?”

Hank paused and then grinned.  “Yeah, I was.”

The End

#i wrote this #hanella #hank/stella #californication #thefall #The adventures of the lady detective and the writer lives on

[legionofpotatoes]

I love your art, it is very detailed in a neat way. Was wondering how you got started making it as a source of income? How did you get your first paid work, I'd love some advice on how to get started, if that's ok

Thank you. Of course it's okay, although I doubt I have enough work experience in art to really delve into this. I only went full freelance this year, and had been juggling art as a side hobby until then. If you're still interested in my somewhat narrow perspective, and are okay with my long-winded rambles, I'll give it a shot:

So to answer your question fully, I'll describe how I started and move into personal advice and learnings later on. As a disclaimer, I am a white cishet dude in my late twenties with a moderate cocktail of mental illnesses, but overall I can pass for a functioning adult so a lot I have to say may come laced with privilege I cannot fully identify.

So uhh I began drawing in around 2012? I think? Maybe halfway through 2011? And I mostly made fanart for things I enjoyed and tried to branch out in communities that felt nourishing to my style and interests (I caught a bug for alt posters and enjoyed mainstream movies so I spent a long time on posterspy early on). There were a handful of opportunities that came from there but I could only accept a couple because of primary workplace commitments. Still, it showed that networking in a focused community was definitely a good place to start; I myself have huge trouble committing to social networks and really staying socially active, but I knew it was an essential ingredient in succeeding so I tried to make myself be involved in challenges and art support trains etc. as much as I could.

In parallel to all that I also ran a few third party online stores (redbubble, teepublic) for disposable income and would sometimes, if rarely, hit around $100-150 a month from those sources combined. It is a sort of thing that requires helper accounts on other social media sites to promote it on, because the stores themselves have a huge volume of content that translates into low organic discoverability. Obviously it was never gonna be the way towards financial independence through art, and with community projects being few and far between, I opened private commissions in around uhhh 2017 I think, focusing on offering a few styles I knew I could do well, and sometimes operating in individual fandoms (it was mostly a bioware thing to be frank). But I had to close them back down after a year or so, again because of work-life conflict and how badly it was burning me out. The reason I kept trying to monetize this hobby is because I honestly hated what I did for my main job and wanted to see a way out in some shape or form in the future.

And then in 2020 I had to quit my main job altogether because of *gestures at pandemic* and deal with a mental breakdown from all the wonderful things it did to us and me specifically. I took a short break and decided to give art a shot full-time, and that was around May this year. I was planning on opening up commissions again (and I still am), but a few sudden opportunities that fell in my lap moved that timetable down and now I'm grateful to even be doing something I am getting adequately paid for.

So, with that somewhat limited perspective, here's what I've learned that I'd tell myself if I was just starting out:

1. Being a fan of something can be a shortcut towards effective networking kickoffs. Which are important evidently. If you love something and enjoy making content for it, join communities, settle into a combination of social media websites that feel right for those interests + your body of work + your inner rhythm, and try to play to content discovery as much as your mental health allows you to. Like I said, I know that I myself am incredibly bad at self-motivating to talk to people, so I found that synergizing common interests into fanart - which I enjoyed making anyway - could be a way to give myself a gentle nudge forward and build those bridges leading to community activities, which then net experience and coverage. Sometimes even freelance projects from official avenues. Again; picking the right spaces for what you're after is key. Companies roam twitter, concept art recruiters scour artstation or linkedin etc, instagram can land you private commissions and collab opportunities, so on and so forth. Find your niche and try to kick up dust. However...

2. I do not believe that any social profile can replace a good portfolio. The thing that made an immediate difference to me this year was building a coherent, simple website with my best work front and center and a contact form on top. Every single opportunity I got came from that form (maybe via twitter or instagram initially, but always sealing the decision after going through the website), so I firmly believe that showcasing your skills and portfolio in a visually arresting and user-friendly way is a big priority. I had some reservations about tackling that task but fortunately I had help from a savvy life partner and we slapped it together via wordpress in less than a day. Twitter/whatever social media is prevalent in your target groups is definitely important to get the right eyes on your shit, yes, but those eyes will then look for a second stop where your work and rates are more clear and concise. Simplicity is key imo, I cannot overstate this. So make a cute, simple portfolio!

3. Your skills and rates will grow and change as you do. Let them. Over the years I built several lasting professional relationships from my obsession over mass effect and kept getting opportunities both from bioware and their partner companies, some small and some a bit bigger. A one-off job earlier this year opened an unexpected door to another much larger commitment, and then the work I did there brought some attention from small businesses looking for commercial commissions. These were all incredibly different projects in terms of scope and budget, and I've been tackling them all on a case-by-case basis and slowly coming into my own irt my needs, rates, and SOW thresholds. It is still a work in progress (and a LOT of literal work as well), and very much a thing I struggle with in publicly marketing, which is why I felt a tad underqualified to answer your question in the first place (obviously I did not let that stop me). But what it means for me now is that I am rapidly developing into whatever my "version" of a functioning freelance artist is, and when the conditions for that guy are met, I need to be able to confidently plant myself and operate from that space despite past precedents. Do not let anyone bully you into downpricing what you yourself perceive as legitimate products of personal growth and development. Speaking of which...

4. The shitty challenge of turning envy into inspiration, and paddling outside your comfort zones in full riot gear. it is hard, but realizing that being a miserable, self-hating artist in my early days got me nothing but more misery back was the first real step I took and what truly blew the hinges off. I was just not pleasant to be around, I would badmouth my work all the time, and it all somehow made sense in my broken mind because the validation I sought was purely external and the way I sought it was through eliciting sympathy via self-victimization (even when I made something objectively nice). It all led fucking nowhere. Except perhaps to my own narcissism that I one day managed to identify and start managing. So I started looking at things that made me seethe with envy and calmly deconstruct and figure out their inner workings instead, do studies, and find nuggets of inspiration or discover new ways to approach rendering or building up specific elements. It was an application of analytical diligence to what I wanted to be a purely emotional, esoteric workflow, but that I deep down knew wasn't. Art is a discipline and a skill, and maybe it isn't a straight line, but you gotta find some line to thread nevertheless. Being self-hating was almost an identity I had to break out of, and despite it still being like, 4-5% there? I realize its cause and effect on me, my work, and those around me, so it is with a conscious choice that I gently set it aside when I work and especially when I learn. It won't always stay quiet, but the effort is the difference. Your doors towards accepting true growth and venturing into uncharted territories, art styles, and networking will really open from there. But there's a huge caveat...

5. Toolsets, accessibility, privilege, and all the good things that enable artistic expression and profitability are not given equal to all. you might do all the mental work I mentioned to be ready to rock and roll and learn and draw your way out of anything, but digital art is a fucking money pit that asks almost too much at times. I don't got a good case study here but identifying and ensuring accessibility to the tools you need to do your best work is, like, super important. The ergonomics can improve as you make money and settle into the job, but the basics have to be made available to you. And some of that might not even be under your direct control. That can be anything from pen tablets to software subscriptions to opportunities in hiring sullied by sexism or what have you. You gotta navigate all that through careful networking and money/time management. I don't do a good job of devoting specific slices of time to work/study, and my primary clutch is iPad software which went from a good deal to a nightmare scenario over the years. So all I can say here is do what I didn't; network, invest in a PC/tablet, and pick a software you'll learn that won't burn a hole in your pocket.

6. Be nice to work with? This one is hard to articulate and has landed my own ass in hot water in my early years because of how socially inept I am, but nothing is more worthwhile than being.. like. a good person to work with. That can be anything like meeting deadlines, or sometimes missing them but eloquently articulating why, being generous in early stages, being communicable and not too wordy in your emails, having a good grasp on abstract artistic concepts and how to describe them in simple terms, having a clear, laid out framework of your working rates in commercial and non-commercial projects and sticking to those guns with grace, understanding when you need to say no and saying it well, the works. Just being nice. Sometimes that might mean going headstrong with something you believe in, or simmering down and sucking up to the big man, all relative and adaptive. Part and parcel of the service provision dance that we all have to do in order to make bank. Know your lines here, obviously, and don't like. work for nazis. or uh.. *shudders* exposure. but be nice and empathetic and communicable and word will travel eventually. Skill may be in abundance these days, but good people are most certainly not, and capitalism has a way of bubbling up scarcity. Grim, but uh, them's the breaks.

I know I'm ultimately telling you to like. Have a body of work, make a portfolio, grow, and network. But that's really how I see it for now. And being nice can be a cherry on top that sets you apart, along with the inherent irreplaceable voice of your artwork. I think I rambled on enough, but if there is something specific you need my help with, even if you want to come off anon and talk in private, please feel free.

#anon #asks #long post #sorry I cant actually condense ideas better :(

[natrogersfics]

After All - Chapter 3/5

Cover art by @faith2nyc​  Read on AO3​​

The hustle and bustle of the aquarium is magnified in the underwater tunnel as locals and tourists alike take in the scenery. But as Steve watches Isabel stare at the glass panels above them with fascination thick on her face and an exclamation of  wow! slipping from her lips every now and then, he notes that the ruckus is not nearly enough to drown out his daughter’s infectious excitement. She’d been intrigued the second they walked into the first exhibit and saw a school of colorful fish swim by, all but demanding to be let out of her stroller, and ever since, getting her to walk in stride with him and Natasha instead of an entire full step ahead has been a lost cause.  

As Isabel stops by one of the windows to admire an idling turtle, he steals a glance at Natasha to see a smile on her face as she watches Isabel wave at her newfound friend. To say that he was surprised when she offered him a beer last night would be an understatement. While they’ve certainly warmed up to each other in the last few days, Isabel's always been there to serve as a buffer between them, making sure that their conversations never progress longer than the time it takes for her to knock something over or cry for attention. Which is why, when Natasha had been so candid and open about her recent struggles at work with him last night, he was downright stunned. Still, the way they had smoothly transitioned into talking about life and their newfound perspective on it was reminiscent of the times they’d meet up after work to shoot the breeze at Dalton’s. Regardless of what he was going through then, he always left their self-designated booth those nights feeling better, and last night was no different. It’s something he has dearly missed.

It was that camaraderie that made him act on the impulse of asking her to tag along today. And though he’d all but goaded her into saying yes, he was still a bit nervous on his way to her flat this morning. It had been ages since the three of them had gone out together, and most of those instances had been to Christine’s office for Isabel’s checkups. But thus far, he’s glad that their rapport picked up right where it left last night, slipping effortlessly into conversation, catching each other up on mundane things like what their friends back at The Daily are up to and how Natasha’s yet to find a Thai restaurant that compares to their favorite one in the East Village. Further, while he’s certainly had fun discovering new aspects of Isabel’s personality these last few days, he has to admit that it’s nice having someone who shares his amusement to her reactions. 

“Did you know that she loved fish this much?” he asks, keeping his eyes on Isabel as she begins to move once again.

“I had an inkling,” Natasha says, pushing the empty stroller. “You know those illustrations of sea creatures you made for her? I had them bound into a book before we moved so they wouldn’t get destroyed, and added it to the rotation when she started showing interest in picture books.” She nods towards Isabel, whose head keeps moving from side to side as she decides which exhibit to focus on next. She chuckles. “But I didn’t think she’d be beside herself like this.” 

The corners of his mouth twitch into a smile. “She likes those?”

“They’re her favorite,” Natasha says, nodding in confirmation when he turns to look at her, surprised. “Of course, I try to mix it up every now and then, so her knowledge isn’t just limited to sea animals” – she pauses as they both laugh – “but given a choice? She’d pick that book in a heartbeat, every single time.”

“When we were at the Gardens the other day, the first urn she picked out on the fountain was the dolphin,” he says, slipping his hands into his pockets and no longer trying to contain his smile.

“Well, I did have the dolphin placed on the cover,” she says.

He looks at her, raising an eyebrow at the smile she seems to be biting back. “Because… dolphins are your favorite?”

“Not particularly,” she says. “But I do distinctly remember catching you doodling it during a section meeting.” She smirks at the sheepish expression that makes it onto his face. “Consider it a pre-emptive strike for when there’s a question about who she got her short attention span from.”

“She’s barely two,” he says emphatically, “of course her attention span is short!” When Natasha only shrugs, he scoffs in disbelief. “And excuse me, you’re the one who pretends to take notes on your iPad when really you’re playing Scrabble with Darcy.”

She gasps at his retort, but it’s quickly replaced by a chuckle. “Only when Sitwell’s talking!”  

“That’s still an indictment of your attention span,” he counters, causing her to raise an eyebrow in challenge. “I’m just saying-”

“Dada!”

Isabel’s distressed voice interrupts him, but before he and Natasha can search for her, Isabel already has her arms around his leg and her face in the material of his jeans. “Izzie?” he says, scooping her into his arms just as Natasha comes around to them. “What’s wrong?”  

“Are you hurt?” Natasha asks, checking Isabel’s arms and legs.

Isabel shakes her head, pointing towards the window to the right. “Shark!”

He and Natasha look over, and sure enough, a large tiger shark looms by the panel, its teeth bared. “Oh, fig,” he says, making sure to keep his amusement out of his tone even as he and Natasha trade yet another fascinated look. “You don’t have to be afraid. We’re inside, it can’t get to you.”  

“No,” Isabel says, “home!”

The way Isabel’s arms tighten around his neck causes him to freeze, and he tries to rack his brain for a solution to calm her down. But then Natasha reaches over, patting Isabel’s hair gently. “But fig,” she chimes in, “we haven’t seen the penguins like in Happy Feet, yet.”

Isabel lifts her head from his shoulder, looking to him and then to Natasha. “Pen-gins?”

“Yeah!” Natasha says with a level of excitement he’s only ever heard her use when speaking to their daughter. “How ‘bout it, huh? Can you let Daddy put you down so we can go visit the penguins?”

Isabel smiles, nodding her head. “Okay.”

“Nice save,” he tells Natasha as he takes the stroller from her and she takes Isabel’s hand, leading them towards the hall labeled Polar Adventure.

“You pick up a thing or two after a while,” Natasha says, winking. “You’ll see.”

While he’s gone to see the penguins at Central Park before, he has to admit that the Penguin Point experience really is something special. From the simulated North Pole ambiance, complete with manufactured ice shelves and snowflakes, to the plexiglass bubble that allows visitors to come practically nose-to-beak with the Gentoos, it’s no wonder that Isabel’s been propelled over the moon. Her freight over the shark long forgotten as she and Natasha sit on the ledge of the enclosure to see the penguins wobble by. To the side, their guide dutifully informs them about the speed at which these flightless birds can swim, though he can’t say he’s paying much attention. Ever since he had seen the way Natasha had expertly diverted Isabel’s worries, he can’t seem to peel his eyes away from them, observing their interactions carefully and smiling at the unquestionable love and affection between them.

There’s never been a doubt in his mind about what a great mother Natasha is. He’s seen it firsthand, witnessed how easily she had tackled motherhood from the moment Isabel was born like it was something she was always meant to do. In many ways, he knows that she’s attuned to their daughter in a manner only she can be, instead it’s not something he feels a shred of envy over. He couldn’t be happier or more thankful that she happens to be the mother of his child, and from where he stands, that sentiment is only fortified when he sees Natasha point at the penguins jumping into the water, and Isabel, who’s sitting in her lap, claps her hands in elation.

The sight brings a warmth to his chest, and as he begins to make his way over to them, Natasha looks up, grinning softly, and he smiles back without so much as a second thought as she alerts Isabel of his presence. Isabel turns towards him, her eyes alight. “Having fun?” he asks, bending down. 

“Pen-gins, Dada!” Isabel all but shrieks, pointing to the enclosure behind them.

“I’ve never seen her this excited,” Natasha whispers over Isabel’s head as she continues to babble on. “I think she might actually pass out.”

“Good thing I thought to bring the stroller,” he deadpans, chuckling at the way her eyes narrow at him. “Izzie, can we take a picture for grandma?”

Isabel nods, and as he reaches for his phone, Natasha begins to move. “Mama, no!” Isabel says, latching onto Natasha’s arm before she can stand.

“Daddy’s going to take your picture, babe,” Natasha explains.

“You don’t have to move,” he says. “Let’s get a couple shots of the both of you.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, her tone skeptical as she tilts her head to the side. “It’s for your mom...”

“I’m sure she won’t mind,” he says, taking a step back to widen the angle when Natasha goes to sit back with Isabel, pulling her into her lap once more. “Okay, in three, two, one… say cheese!”

“Cheese!” Natasha and Isabel say in unison, the both of them beaming from ear to ear, and he mirrors their expressions as he snaps a few shots of them.

“Why don’t I take some of you two?” Natasha suggests, and with a nod, he switches places with her, handing her his phone as he goes. “Look at momma, Iz! Good girl, now smile!” She moves to the left to shift the angle, and he and Isabel pivot accordingly to get the penguins behind them into the frame. “Okay, now funny face! Perfect!” She giggles from behind the screen. “Sarah’s going to love these.”   

He chuckles, accepting his phone back from her to see a picture of Isabel with her tongue out and him cross-eyed. “They’ll be on her fridge in no time.”

“Excuse me?” They look up at the question to see their guide standing before them, a genial smile on his face. “Would you like me to take a photo of the three of you?”

His head whips from their guide to Natasha. “If that’s okay with you?”  

“That would be great, actually,” Natasha says, stealing a glance at the nametag on the left side of the man’s vest. “Thank you, Heimdall.” She turns back to him and Isabel, smiling as he moves to make space for her on the ledge. “Let’s make sure she’s looking at the camera. I don’t want to hear it from Nick and Melinda.” 

“Nor do I want to hear it from my ma,” he volleys back as she sits down, laughing as she shakes her head. 

“Okay,” Heimdall says, holding up the camera before gesturing to them with his free hand. “Move a little closer, yeah?” He and Natasha do as they’re told, scooting closer to one another until their legs are touching, and he shifts Isabel to sit on both of them. “Brilliant! Now everybody lean in… and say penguin!”

“Penguin!” he and Natasha say at the same time Isabel yells cheese, sending them both into a fit of laughter.  

When Heimdall gives them a thumbs up, Natasha turns to Isabel, shaking her head fondly. “Such a little rebel.”

“And whom does she take after?” Heimdall asks, only to chuckle when he and Natasha point fingers at one another. “In any case, you lot make a beautiful family.”

He smiles politely as Heimdall passes his phone back. “Thank you.” 

“Think she has enough penguin things?” Natasha asks hours later as they sit at a café across the aquarium.

He chuckles over the lip of his coffee mug, setting it down on the table as he looks to the highchair where Isabel is working on her penguin activity book with a penguin scarf around her neck. “Oh, I don’t know,” he says, “maybe ask me again later when she puts on her penguin pajamas.”

“Hey, consider yourself lucky that I was able to negotiate the pajamas in exchange for the stuffed, jumbo penguin,” she says. “We’d probably have to get it its own Oyster card just to get it home.”  

“Gift shops or death traps for the wallets of desperate parents?” he muses. “You decide.”

She smirks in agreement. “So…” she trails, propping an elbow on the table to rest her chin on a closed fist. “Christmas Eve. What’re you up to?”  

“Not much, really,” he admits. “The hotel I’m staying at said they have something going on in the lounge for a bit, but I’m probably just going to turn in since I promised everyone that I’d wrap their gifts for” – he nods silently towards Isabel – “you know who in time for Christmas morning at yours.”

“They do know she’s coming home with you, right?” she asks. “They could’ve just given it to her there.”

“Believe me, if they listened to me at all, I wouldn’t be so worried about getting sauce on one of the few shirts I have for this trip,” he says, eliciting a laugh from her.

“Point taken,” she says. “But I ask because when I realized Izzie and I weren’t going to make it back for Christmas, I decided to invite some people over to my place for Christmas Eve.” She shrugs. “If you don’t have anything set in stone, you’re welcome to join us.”

“Natasha,” he says, averting his gaze to his hands. “Thank you, that’s very kind of you, but I don’t want to intrude on you and your friends.”

“Hard to be an intruder when you’re being invited,” she counters, sighing when he remains silent. “Steve.” He looks up at her at that, catching her disarming smile. “Look, I know in the past we’ve made a mess of things-”

“Natasha,” he repeats, shaking his head. “Consider that water over the dam.”

“Okay, yeah,” she says. “But now that we’ve put that out there, maybe we can look forward? I mean, I wish I could say that this is the only time a monkey wrench is going to get thrown into our perfectly planned schedules, but I sincerely doubt it. We’re going to be in each other’s lives, Steve. Might as well get used to it.” She eyes Isabel before looking back at him. “Besides, I think she’d really like having her Dad there.”

He scoffs. “When nine out of ten times her answer is no, I’d say the odds aren’t great.” 

“Only one way to find out,” she says, tapping Isabel’s arm. “Izzie, you want Daddy to come to Christmas Eve, right?”

Isabel moves her arm out of Natasha’s reach as she continues to color over a penguin with a purple crayon. “M’busy!”

He and Natasha scoff, and she turns to him with a sheepish expression. “Technically that isn’t a no.”  

He rolls his eyes at that before letting out a sigh when Natasha raises a brow in challenge. Immediately, his mind conjures a million different reasons to refuse. Spending a day together is one thing, and while he had been the first one to color outside the lines of their custody agreement by asking to spend Christmas with them in the first place, something about this invitation feels different. Meeting the new people in Natasha’s life, when these relationships have no bearing on how well the two of them function as co-parents, seems like a weightier, riskier choice. But then his mother’s words come to mind: like it or not, you and Natasha are forever bonded by the beautiful baby girl you two brought into this world. That makes you family, and families spend Christmas together. 

When it comes down to it, with their family being as unorthodox as it is, it was always going to be more complicated to navigate than the average unit. But if Natasha, one of the most pragmatic people he knows and who he trusts to make difficult decisions, is willing to extend an olive branch, who is he to turn it down.

“Okay,” he says, smiling at the way Natasha’s eyes light up when she gets her way. “But then you’re coming cookie decorating with us in Soho tomorrow.”

“Do we get to take the cookies home?” she asks, to which he nods. “Fine, but since you’re keeping me from laundry, we’re dropping by Selfridges after this.”

He smirks. “Deal.” 

Christmas carols play softly in the background in Hela’s Cookie Boutique, but Natasha’s only half listening, too distracted by watching Steve and Isabel decorate sugar cookies with the exact same focused expression on their faces. Isabel turns to Steve, bringing a finger up to his face and giggling when he licks the red icing off, and as she catches the exchange, she smiles. Seeing Steve and Isabel interact up close now that their daughter is more engaging has been an experience she didn’t think she’d find so endearing. Of course, she knew Isabel adored him and that the feeling was absolutely and unabashedly mutual, but to see that affection unfold before her very eyes has made her heart unexpectedly expand in her chest.

Perhaps adding to her giddiness is the fact that this sight is also quite comical. With the class geared toward families, miniature workstations had been set up for the children, and as soon as Isabel had seen them, talking her into sitting elsewhere became downright impossible. Despite the smaller than usual seats, though, she notes that she fits just fine. The same could not be said, however, for Steve right next to her. She lets her gaze fall to him, taking her bottom lip between her teeth to keep from smiling. Hunched in his seat, Steve sticks out like a sore thumb, his broad frame looking even more immense as they’re surrounded by other children. Though she had offered to move stations, he’d refused – too willingly beholden to Isabel’s whims to care about his own comfort.

“I should be mad at you for unleashing our daughter in what is essentially a sugar factory,” she says, prompting Steve to turn to her as she snaps a picture of Isabel. “But I have to admit, she does look darn cute in a baker’s hat!”

He chuckles. “Doesn’t the little shoulder shimmy she does along to the music just kill you?”

“So much so I almost forget how hard it’s going to be to give her a bath later,” she says a little too sweetly, eyeing the sticky mess caked onto their daughter’s arms as Isabel puts more icing than her cookie could possibly hold and finding herself infinitely thankful for the aprons they were provided with.

“Tell you what,” he says. “I’ll give her a bath tonight if you promise that my mother will never see those pictures.”

“Not that I would ever let Sarah know that her son is a traitor who took her granddaughter to another bakery for cookie decorating,” she says, putting her phone away. “But since you offered, feel free to take over bath duty anytime you want.” 

He narrows his eyes at her, shaking his head when she does not even bother to hide her smile. “That’s fine,” he says, nodding towards the cookie she’s working on. “When she starts to yell at me, I’ll just show her a picture of your lumpy cookie to distract her.”

“We’re not all aiming to make art out of cookies, Michelangelo,” she teases, making him roll his eyes when she points to his immaculately decorated Santa cookie. “Plus, it’s a lot harder to smooth out this icing than it looks!”   

“That’s why you never go for the snowflake. There’s not enough surface area,” he says, reaching over for a fresh cookie, this time shaped like a stocking, before scooping out some blue icing with his spatula. “Here, look. All you have to do is lay the icing down and glide the spatula back and forth like so. It’s all in the wrist.”

“Like this?” she asks, trying to mimic his actions, only to glare at him when he fails miserably at holding back his chuckle when the icing still does not lay smoothly on her cookie. “Excuse me for not being raised in a bakery like some people, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” he says through a wide smile. “Grab a new cookie and some icing and I’ll show you.” She does as instructed, barely hiding her surprise when he crouches down behind her seat, his arms all but wrapping around her as he puts a hand over the one she has clutching the spatula. “Just lay the icing” – he begins to guide her hand, first adding some pressure to flatten the blob of icing before gently moving their hands down the cookie – “and glide.” By the time the spatula reaches the edge of the Christmas tree, there’s not a single peak on the icing, and he turns to her, smirking. “Now was that so hard?”

“Guess not,” she says, craning her neck to look at him. “Thanks.” 

He grins. “No problem.” 

With their proximity, she feels his words just as much as she hears them, but the thought is fleeting, fading as quickly as it had come when she finds herself caught in his smile and the way his eyes look impossibly brighter in this moment. How long they stay staring at each other, she does not know – seconds, maybe a minute. It’s when they hear a squeal from across the table that he looks away, and when she follows his line of sight, her eyes widen when she sees that Isabel’s gotten hold of a piping bag.

“Izzie, no!” Steve says as they both rush out of their seats. 

In spite of Steve’s warning, Isabel squeezes down, and she watches in horror as icing bursts out of the bag and onto Isabel’s face. She cringes as Isabel turns to look at her, icing flowing from her chin and down to her neck. “Uh oh.”  

With a shake of her head, she laughs. “Uh oh is right, Little Miss.” She steps forward to reach for the baby bag, sighing in relief when she sees it already in Steve’s grip as he hands her a bunch of wet wipes. “Thank you,” she says, before looking at Isabel. “Say, thank you, Daddy.”

“Thank you, Dada?” Isabel says, smiling through the mess on her face as they all burst into laughter. 

“Okay, new plan,” Steve says after they work in tandem to get as much icing off Isabel as they can without soap and water. He points to the tray of bare cookies before turning to her. “You lay down the base icing, I will smooth it out, and Miss Sticky over there can be on sprinkles duty.”

She laughs. “You do know she’s just going to throw too many sprinkles on it, right?”  

“Ah, but that’s the beauty of giving her already iced cookies,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows. “There’s only so many sprinkles that can stick before the rest just falls off.”  

When his expression turns smug, she can only roll her eyes.

The sun’s only begun to sink low into the horizon, casting a halo of warm light across the city, when a chilly breeze blows by, prompting Steve to adjust his scarf to rest more snuggly around his neck. While stopping at a park seems like a ridiculous idea in late December, the decision was strategic. As the saying goes, hell hath no fury like a toddler hyped on sugar, and he and Natasha weren’t about to tempt fate by not providing Isabel with an opportunity to expend all the energy provided by an afternoon spent consuming ludicrous amounts of icing.   While Isabel explores the surroundings on the patch of grass before them, he and Natasha sit on the nearby bench, a pile of rocks and weeds that their daughter has discovered and given to them for safe keeping only growing by the minute between them. He looks at Natasha, who’s busy admiring the scenery, to see the box of their leftover cookies resting on her lap, and instantly, the sight brings a smile to his face. Growing up in his mother’s bakery, the smell of butter and sugar in the air always had a way of evoking good feelings in him – a clear sign that wonderful things, usually in the form of a sweet treat, were to come. Today, though, as the three of them laughed and decorated cookies, he finds that those good feelings are akin to glee.    The sound of Isabel’s laughter ringing melodiously in the air catches their attention, and when they turn, they can only chuckle when they see her begin to follow a hapless duck a few feet away. He shakes his head. “Why do I feel like we should be helping that duck?”   “Because you know what your daughter is like when she’s only running on sugar and no afternoon nap,” Natasha says matter-of-factly, shooting him a knowing look. “Also, that duck’s never gonna see her again anyway. We, on the other hand, have to take her home and deal with the inevitable crash from her sugar high.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Believe me, the duck can take one for the team right now.”   “She was a bit of a menace the other night when I let her have a cupcake after dinner,” he says, nodding in concession. “But, hell, if she isn’t so easy to love.”   “Confusing, isn’t it?” she asks, to which he hums in agreement. “One minute, you want to pull your hair out because she’s acting like you’re torturing her when really you’re just trying to put her shoes on-”   “But then the next she’s hugging you and telling you she loves you?” he finishes with a smirk.   “Exactly!” she says, throwing her head back in laughter. “But like you said, she’s just the sweetest thing ever. Really intuitive, too. You’d think at her age, she wouldn’t understand when you’re having a bad day, but then just when you’re feeling really down, you get a random hug from her…” She sighs, looking off to where Isabel is. “And suddenly everything doesn’t seem so bad.”   He follows Natasha’s line of sight, smiling when he sees that Isabel’s turned her attention to some flowers, before turning back to her. “We made a pretty good kid, didn’t we?”   Her green eyes are brimming with pride as she looks at him. “Yeah,” she says, “we did.”   He does not respond with words. Instead, he just holds her gaze as they share a smile, because truly, what else is there to say. If there’s anything these last few days have proven, it’s that when it comes down to it, Isabel is a reminder that despite everything that’s gone on between them in the last few years, all the hurt that they’ve unintentionally caused one another and the distance they’ve placed between them – physically or otherwise – they’ve always made a great team. And though the thought comes unbidden in his mind, he finds himself wondering how different things could have been if he had worked up the courage to tell her how he felt back then. But more importantly, for the first time in so long, he allows himself to question whether or not he was wrong to hold back.    Before he can give the thought any more consideration, though, Isabel makes their way to them, climbing into Natasha’s lap. “Hey, you,” Natasha says, looking away from him to wrap her arms around Isabel and kiss the top of her head. “Tired?”   Isabel shakes her head, resting her cheek against Natasha’s chest. “No.”   “If you say so,” Natasha says, chuckling under her breath.   “Do you want to grab dinner?” he asks. “I saw a Thai restaurant across the street. We could see if their Pad Thai compares to the one in the Village.”   “I would love to, but despite what this one says, she’s probably going to pass out soon,” Natasha says, and as if to prove her point, Isabel’s eyelids begin to flutter. “But how about you just come over to mine?” she then adds, her smile almost shy. “I don’t have Pad Thai, but I can whip us up some pasta.”   “You cook now?” he says, his brows all but shooting into his hairline.   The glare she sends his way is sharp, but it lasts only a second as she begins to laugh. “I’m not sure I appreciate the disbelief on your face.”   “No, I believe you…” he trails, grinning when she raises a brow at him. “I just remember having to put out a bacon-related fire in your apartment once upon a time.”   “You accidentally leave the burner on while you go to answer the door one time and some people never let you forget it,” she says, rolling her eyes before she joins him in snickering. When their laughter tapers, she tilts her head to the side. “So, what do you say?”   “I say to see is to believe,” he says, dissolving into laughter once more when she picks up one of the stones in the pile between them and chucks it at him. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding! I’d be honored to taste your cooking… and not have to put it out afterwards.”    She scoffs, but he can only really beam at the expression of mock hurt she makes. “You know what, Rogers.”     With Isabel slumbering peacefully in her car seat, their cab ride back to Natasha’s flat is steeped in comfortable silence. London after dark is breathtaking, but even as the stunning view passes him by, he finds that he can only focus on how felicitous this – the three of them coming back from a day well spent – all feels. He steals a glance at Natasha on the other side, her face lit only by the streetlights, but even so, the little smile on her lips as she looks out her window brings a smile to his own.    As if sensing his stare, she turns, her smile only widening when she catches him looking, and he can’t help but wonder if today has felt as good for her as it has for him. His lips part to ask the question, but before he can, the cab rattles as the driver runs over a bump. Like a reflex, he reaches out to make sure Isabel stays in place, his hand colliding with Natasha’s as she, too, does the same. They both nod at the cabbie’s subsequent apology, and the rest of the way, he does not bother to utter a word about how their hands remain atop of one another’s, nor does he ask questions when their fingers somehow wind up intertwined – but, and perhaps more saliently, neither does she. 

When they arrive back at Natasha’s flat, he lifts Isabel to him, paying the driver as Natasha collects the car seat and Isabel’s bag and they walk up the stairs to her front door. It’s only when they’ve made their way inside her foyer and she’s taking her keys out of the lock that he realizes her lights were already on when they entered.   “Were you expecting someone?” he asks, turning to her.   “Not that I remember,” she says, mirroring his concerned expression as she takes in her already lit foyer. As if on cue, they hear the sound of her cupboard being pushed shut, and hurriedly, she begins to make her way towards the sound.   “Natasha, wait!” he says, his voice thick with worry as he follows her with lengthened strides. “There might be a-”   “What are you doing here?” he hears Natasha ask as she enters her kitchen. Confused, he follows her, stopping by the doorway when he sees her arms around a man, his hair dark as night and his frame towering over hers. “I haven’t seen you in days!”   “Had to pull another double shift,” the man says, his voice smooth as silk. “Luckily, my colleague was nice enough to relieve me a couple hours early, so I stopped by the supermarket and did some food shopping.”   “You’re a lifesaver,” Natasha says, and he catches himself looking towards her kitchen island where an array of fruits and vegetables are sitting along with a six-pack of Stella and a bottle of Beluga – her favorite vodka.  “Oh, Loki, this is Steve.”   At the sound of his name, he looks up just as Natasha and the man – Loki, he reminds himself – turns to him. Loki smiles, moving around the island to extend a hand to him. “Pleasure to meet you, Steve.”   “Likewise,” he says, shifting Isabel to free his other hand before shaking Loki’s. “I’m sorry, I-” His words are cut off when Isabel stirs, letting out a little whine. “Shh, it’s okay, sweetheart. We’re back home.” Isabel lifts her head off his shoulder, her forehead wrinkling as she grimaces, and quickly, he rubs her back soothingly. She turns in his arms, and when her eyes land on Loki, it’s almost on instinct that he holds her closer to him. “It’s okay, fig. It’s just momma’s-”   “Yo-ki?” Isabel says, her eyes lighting up with recognition. Before he knows it, she’s squirming in his arms, signaling to be let down. He obliges, staring dumbfoundedly as Loki bends down and Isabel runs into his open arms. “Yo-ki!”   “Hello, love,” Loki says, laughing and picking Isabel up as he stands. “I missed you! Did you have a marvelous time today?”   “Indeed she did,” Natasha says, and his head whips towards her to see her walk towards Isabel and Loki to tap Isabel’s nose. “I was actually about to make some-”   “Actually, Natasha,” he interrupts, his eyes going from Loki, to Isabel, and then to her. And though he does not remember reaching for it, he holds up his phone. “Something just came up with the gallery. I’m going to have to pass on dinner.”   “Oh, okay…” she says, blinking in surprise. “Something major?”   “No, um… just a misunderstanding,” he says before shaking his head. “You have that thing tomorrow at three, right? I’ll be back before then to pick up Izzie.”   “Right, yeah…” she looks at Isabel, lifting her out of Loki’s arms to place her down. “Say bye to Daddy, Iz.”   As Isabel walks towards him, he bends down to give her a hug. “Bye, fig. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”   “Dada, no!” Isabel says, stepping away from him. “Stay.”     “But it’s almost your bedtime, sweetheart,” he says, rubbing his hands up and down her arms consolingly. “Daddy will be back tomorrow, okay? I promise.”   Isabel’s bottom lip begins to quiver, but before the waterworks can begin, Natasha bends down next to them. “Izzie, baby, why don’t you show Loki the cookies you decorated, huh?”     “My goodness, you decorated some cookies?” he hears Loki say, and he’s relieved when Isabel turns towards Loki, a smile forming on her face as she nods.   The second Isabel begins to walk towards Loki, he gets up, turning away from the kitchen and making his way towards the front door. It’s only when he has one hand already on the knob that he hears Natasha call out to him, and he turns back to see her standing a few feet away, her eyes wide as she stares at him.   “Steve…” she says, her eyebrows furrowing. “Is everything okay?”   “Yeah,” he says, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. “You have nothing to worry about.” He nods curtly. “I’ll be back for Izzie tomorrow.” 

He does not wait for her reply as he twists the knob and walks out, shutting the door behind him before all but running down the stairs. His footfalls are heavy on the concrete, but he does not dare look back as he makes his way down the block, ferociously trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut and the ache slowly but surely burning through his chest.  

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

#Romanogers #After All #A Little Favor #Steve Rogers #Natasha Romanoff #AU #fanfic #natrogers #natrogersfics

[scrawler-jay]

new digital projects

So it's been almost a year since I've posted anything here. I have been drawing (though not every day, unfortunately), but it's been mostly just doodles or figure studies - nothing particularly involved.

I bought myself an iPad 9 for college and received an Apple Pencil for Christmas, so of course that led to me getting Procreate from the app store and messing with it. After a few hours of doodling, I finally watched some tutorials and started getting serious.

I've been wanting to get into digital art for a while. Don't get me wrong, I love the tactile elements of traditional art, but it's unforgiving towards mistakes and all of the supplies/materials take up more space than you'd expect.

I was fortunate enough to receive a small drawing tablet from a good friend @dieselsardine several years ago, and worked with a free digital painting program called Krita for a while -- as mentioned in this post where I got into drawing mice -- but the tablet pen stopped working after my cat knocked it off my desk and onto a hardwood floor, and I felt uncomfortable spending the money to replace it. I found Krita to be... overwhelming. There were so many things I could do, and none of it felt particularly intuitive. Also, the program crashed OFTEN and I was terrified of working with more than 4 paint layers at a time.

Procreate feels like a breath of fresh air in comparison.

Admittedly, I have gotten used to more "typical" painting programs, so it took me a while to learn how the circle tool and color picker worked, and there's still a bunch I don't know -- I'm sure that, after less than a week, I've barely scratched the surface of what Procreate is capable of.

I was looking for something to draw in Procreate, something complex that would be an actual challenge. I'm terrible at coming up with ideas, so I decided to copy this stock illustration of a steaming teacup wreathed with a blackberry vine.

Now, copying ≠ tracing. (Trust me, if I'd traced, my final product would look a LOT better than it does, and I'd have learned nothing). I just used the stock image as a reference and tried to recreate it as best I could.

In Krita, I would try to use as few layers as possible. I had one layer for a sketch or background, one for lineart + colors, and 2 extra for any miscellaneous details. It wasn't a good system. With this project in Procreate, though, I found myself using more than 7 paint layers at a time and the app didn't so much as stutter under the load. I'm very impressed.

I started with a basic sketch of the whole scene:

(Note: this image has been altered to enhance contrast, since I wasn't sure it was easy enough to see).

I used the circle tool a few times! I wanted this stage to just be a general idea of whether everything goes, as opposed to a refined sketch. Because the original stock image doesn't have a lot of shading/shadows, I didn't feel the need to block in lots of values. (Also, IDK how to do the trick where you paint in grayscale, working exclusively with values, and then can switch the grayscale to color. I want to learn but I need to watch more tutorials).

I worked on the blackberry vine next, since I like botanicals. This part took me... about three days, working for maybe 1-2 hours per day.

I still only have the default brushes. I mostly used the technical pen for the lineart, since I like very opaque, thin lines. Adding color was done primarily with the round brush and the syrup brush, and you can see with the leaves that I was trying a lot of different blending methods -- some more successful than others -- before realizing that the smudge tool existed.

By the time I finished this part I was reaching the 50/50 stage of pride vs. loathing whenever I looked at what I had created. The teacup itself would make or break my feelings about this project.

The cup looks... okay. The circle/ellipse tool is a godsend and saved this entire project. I did some shading, which ended up being the easiest part of this entire picture, then overlaid the layer with the botanical elements, and all that was left were some wisps of steam.

And that's it! The stock illustration uses more subtle shading and adds a bunch of lines to give an impression of depth, but I prefer the more dramatic shading here. (Though tbh I worry that it's a very different style from the blackberry leaves themselves, and that the 2 styles aren't especially harmonious). My pride vs loathing is now at 65-35, in favor of pride. I can tell that there's still a lot I need to learn how to do, but as a first art piece on a new digital art application I think I did pretty well.

#beginner artist #art #original art

[littlechinesedoll]

Long Apple rant. 

This is regarding an issue where the biggest reseller of Apple products in my country, does not want to replace a woman’s Macbook with factory defect, which arose within a month of usage. The MacBook in question is a MacBook Pro M1 bought in March 2021. She’s had a very terrible time with Apple support, and they kept her laptop saying they were waiting for parts, kept transferring it from one repair shop to another, and blamed her for not returning the laptop within 7 days (which is the law), when the defect only arose a month later. The MacBook still isn’t repaired and she still hasn’t gotten her MacBook back yet.

The issue I think, with the MacBook the PowerMac Center won't replace is not because it's out of the seven day replacement period, but because they literally do not know how to repair the MacBook. The new MacBooks probably have zero reparability. Also because PowerMac Center has shit customer service. Feeling Apple Store. 

I had an Acer laptop break down three months before the warranty expired. Went to Acer in Paco, Manila, told them the problem, and left my laptop there. After about a day or two they said the problem was the motherboard. They replaced it and I got it back a few days later. Replacing the motherboard is like already giving you a new laptop. And they didn't charge me anything. I took it back about a month later to have it cleaned out just before the warranty expired. Didn't charge me anything. Easy as pie.

If "Apple Geniuses" in the US or "engineers" here in the PH knew how to fix your defective/broken MacBook, they can give it back to you in no time. But they don't know how to fix it, because Apple designs these machines to be as difficult to repair as possible, or impossible to repair, so that when it breaks, you have no choice but to buy another one. They do this by soldering everything in, using proprietary screws so that you can't fix the device yourself, and serializing parts so that you can't use them to repair other devices. They said they're waiting for parts from Singapore. These parts probably don't even exist. I don't even think they produce parts in Singapore. The company that manufactures parts for Apple products are both in Taiwan. 

If you want to know more about how Apple Products have shit reparability, please visit the following people on YouTube: Louis Rossmann, Hugh Jeffreys, and Jessa Jones from iPad Rehab. Please support Right to Repair. 

There has been news that Apple is claiming it didn’t hit targets because people were having their iphones repaired instead of buying new iphones (read it here: https://www.apple.com/.../letter-from-tim-cook-to.../...) 

And then when you go to Apple Genius Bars to have your Macs checked out, they’ll overestimate the repair for your laptop and just tell you to buy another one because it’s too expensive to repair it, even if the actual repair just takes shoving a good connector back into its slots.

Louis Rossmann is a person fighting for Right to Repair and he despises Apple to his very core that his mission is to fix every MacBook he can get his hands on just to spite Apple ahahaha I love him. 

Here are some of his videos: > Here’s a video from cbc news where they consult Louis after going to the genius bar “Genius Bar caught ripping customer off ON CAMERA” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_XneTBhRPYk&t=1s

And another girl being ripped off by the Genius Bar saying they can’t repair her laptop, when the problem was they just didn’t shove the battery connector back into the motherboard well enough: https://youtu.be/K1A9y4S60kg

Jessa Jones from iPad Rehab also has been repairing and retrieving data from iphones that genius bars/apple centers claim cannot be retrieved or saved: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCPjp41qeXe1o_lp1US9TpWA

Also check out Hugh Jeffreys who fixes iPhones and shows you that iPhones serialize parts so that you can’t have parts replaced on newer iPhone because the phones disable themselves when new parts are placed in https://www.youtube.com/user/hughydo

I’m NOT that much of a hater, because I use a MacBook and an iPhone for work, and an iPad for personal use and media consumption, and I’m a cheap fuck so I’ll never really get my own mac or a new iPhone (I have an iPhone 6 Plus) but these practices are insane. 

But I get why people use it. It “feels premium” and “is designed so well” and “the ecosystem works so well with each other across all devices” and of course, “I look so cool using it.” I also acknowledge that Apple has made considerable leaps and bounds when it comes to technology and their ecosystem, but that doesn't mean I don't think it's shit. And they keep competitors on their toes (also burning them to the ground when they enter a new market—bye Tiles), but holy shit these practices, man. 

Apple also claims that they're going green right? But if they don't let you repair and they don't repair their devices, what happens to all the other broken devices? That all goes to a landfill. They want to go green and save paper by not giving you a charger in the box? Well it takes more boxes and more plastic when you buy that charger either from them, or from an online store. It takes more boxes, more plastic, more bubble wrap, more gas!! More emissions!! To deliver that charger to you!! THAT’S NOT GREEN AT ALL. Just because they're "reducing their footprint" doesn't mean it's going be the same for everybody else that's fulfilling their jobs to get the thing to you, the user.

There was an issue where they sued a disposal company for repairing and reselling all the working iPhones they gave to them to destroy. Why destroy something that can be repaired or still used? Granted they have the right to sue cos the disposal company didn't do as asked, but why would they have all those working devices destroyed? Because they don't want you to repair your Apple device. They want it to stay broken so you buy a new one. You can read that here: https://www.washingtonpost.com/.../apple-geep-iphone.../

Basically, Apple still wants control over the device you bought from them. It’s like saying you buy a car from Ford, but you can’t use tires that aren’t from Ford, because if you do use tires from Bridgestone, the car won’t work. And if you bring the car to Ford, they’ll say they can’t fix your tires, so you have to buy a new car. That’s fucking stupid.

some more stuff on right to repair to help you understand it: 

MKBHD: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RTbrXiIzUt4

Linus Tech Tips: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nvVafMi0l68

Louis Rossmann: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Npd_xDuNi9k

Also a video from Linus Tech Tips where Apple refused to fix their iMac Pro: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9-NU7yOSElE

#apple #rant #personal #thoughts #power mac center #macbook pro #macbook pro m1 #m1 chip #m1x #powermac center #apple computers #iphone #ipad #airpods #airpods pro #right to repair #loius rossmann #mkbhd #marques brownlee #linus tech tips #ltt #ipad rehab #cbc news #apple genius bar #genius bar #apple philippines #consumer care #department of trade and industry #dti philippines #consumer protection

[maknaesdancersrappers]

Devoted 2.

part 10

Overall warning/s: kinkier smut (eg. voyeurism, exhibitionism, etc.) character death, dark themes

Chapter warning/s: vulgar language, violence

Just how devoted is Jaehyun to you?

prev: part 9

wc: 6.3k

You, your mom, Jaehyun’s mom, Yebin, and Minkyung had arrived at the resort a little past noon and were immediately served lunch as the resort staff brought your bags to the room. After eating and resting for a bit, Jaehyun’s mom led everyone to where the wedding venue could be and visualized it for them.

The pathway to the recreational garden had butterfly bushes on each side that lead to a spacious circular area that could fit just enough for your target wedding entourage. There was a gorgeous fountain offset from the center of the area that had beautiful, healthy, large kois swimming about in the basin and a metal fence that had Chinese honeysuckles creeping through the bars that separated the area from the beach.

“What do you think, sweetheart?” Jaehyun’s mom turned to you, eyes sparking and hopeful. A resort staff brings over a tray of champagne for everyone and leaves after everyone has their own glass.

“It’s beautiful, definitely.” You looked up at the looming cherry blossom trees over the fountain, imagining what it would look like when spring comes with the petals filling each basin and flowing down with the water. “But I feel like there’s something missing.”

Minkyung took pictures for you on your phone to send to Jaehyun and for his mom to use as reference for planning. “What’s the color scheme again?”

“Pink and gray.” You answer, although a bit unsure if you wanted to push through with it. “Unless it’s too pink? With the cherry blossoms and all?”

“It depends on the shade of pink you want.” Jaehyun’s mom interjects, “I suggest something a bit deeper… like watermelon.”

“Wouldn’t that be red already?” Yebin curiously speaks up, already finished with her drink, hanging it haphazardly by the flute’s foot between her fingers.

“No, not literally watermelon red.” You explain, “It’s a darker shade of pink. Ah, I wish I had my paint swatches.”

She waves her other hand, “No, no, it’s okay. Just don’t make me wear anything short as a bridesmaid.”

“Isn’t the trend to use infinity dresses for bridesmaid gowns? That was my plan.” You walked over to her and linked your arm with hers. The sea breeze was cool despite the afternoon sun; it was a perfect day to lounge by the pool or wade in the shallow waters of the beach. You leaned your head on Yebin’s shoulder and sighed, “I don’t think I want to get married here. It’s a nice venue, maybe for a reception, but not the ceremony.”

“Then let’s go to my aunt’s place! I haven’t even been there, but knowing her, it’ll be gorgeous.” Yebin leans back on you, “She’s a landscaper.”

The private property was completely walled off with 2-story cement walls with vines creeping up from the ground. From the metal gates up to the parking space in front of the house were tall pine trees and the road leading up to the majestic water fountain surrounded by rose bushes was gray gravel. There was a woman that stood just where the gravel stopped and was replaced by ceramic tiles; she had salt and pepper pixie cut hair and wore high waist trousers with a simple tank top. Something about her screamed ‘boss bitch’ and you’re not doubting she’s related to Yebin.

“Eunyong!” Jaehyun’s mom greets once the car comes to a stop, throwing her hands up as the woman approaches her. They kiss their cheeks and hug each other, “Thank you for this.”

“Oh, honey, you know this is nothing. Who is she? Who’s the lucky girl marrying your son?”

Jaehyun’s mom holds her hand out to you and you bashfully greet her, “Hello. I’m [Y/N].”

“To be marrying Jung Jaehyun and having his mom plan the wedding?” She takes your hands and smiles fondly at you, “You’re a lucky girl. You must be so happy.”

“I still can’t believe it myself.” You admit, “Thank you, again, for lending your property.”

“Anything for the Jungs. Oh, Yebin! What a small world, you’re friends with [Y/N]?”

Yebin gives her aunt a kiss on the cheek, “We were roommates all our college life with Minkyung.” She gestures to her, who bows her head in greeting.

“My! I think I’ve seen you in a fashion show in Europe, my dear.”

Minkyung blushes, “Well, I am a model.”

After you introduce your mom and a few more pleasantries, Eunyeong gives you a tour of her property. She first led everyone to the 3-story mansion and explained that it had 15 ensuite bedrooms, 4 extra bedrooms, and the first floor was mostly an open living area with a luxurious kitchen and pantry to the right and an olympic sized pool, with half under the building and the other half exposed under the sun. She then walked through the marbled floors, guiding everyone to the garden. Like the resort, there were hedges that separated the grass from the sandy beach. Tall trees, among them were cherry blossoms, were lined along the walls and varieties of bushes and shrubs grew beneath them.

“This area is a blank canvas for you, [Y/N].” Eunyeong puts a hand on your shoulder, gesturing to the wide space of grass in front of them. “Tell me what the color scheme is and I’ll have the perfect flowers ordered so they’ll be ready by the wedding.”

“Pink and gray, but I’m still on the fence about it.”

“Don’t worry, dear, I’ll take care of it. I have a few ideas already.” Jaehyun’s mom assures you, opening the iPad she had and taking a picture of the landscape. “And if you’re still unsure, then it’s fine. We have months to go.”

A ringtone erupts from behind you and Minkyung exclaims, “Oh, [Y/N]! Jaehyun is calling!”

You had almost forgotten she had your phone, thanking her as she hands you the phone and you take a few steps away from them to answer the call. “Babe?”

“Hi, baby. Just thought I’d check up on you.”

“I’m alright. I was going to send you pictures so you can help me decide but,” You paused; staring at the open garden. Eunyong was right, it was like a blank canvas. You weren’t able to visualize it awhile ago, but now that you’re hearing Jaehyun’s voice, your mind just paints the picture in your head and it almost makes you tear up, “I think this is where I want to marry you.”

“Is it that beautiful?” There was that specific teasing tone in his voice that you would have rolled your eyes at, but instead you let yourself chuckle, eyes still fixated forward; taking notice of the waves past the green hedges.

“It’s perfect.”

After meeting with Eunyong and having a meal there, they return back to the resort where the mothers spent most of their day at the spa, while the quote-unquote younger generation lounged by the pool to get a tan. Yebin and Minkyung tried to plan a bachelorette party, but you turned them down, not wanting one at all. They all met up again for dinner, enjoying the 5-course meal by the window that opened up to the beach. Minkyung and Yebin fill the silence with stories from their work; Minkyung shares some runway mishaps and minor wardrobe malfunctions she’s had and Yebin tells them about the business ventures she’s been tackling. When it came to you, you expressed your concerns about starting your own company, adding the fact it stemmed from Jaehyun’s wishes for you to stay at home instead. You couldn’t help but catch the disappointed and worried look on his mother’s face before she covered it up by drinking her glass of wine.

When they all retreat into their suite, Jaehyun’s mom opted to head out to the balcony and sit out there. You hadn’t paid much attention to it, going to your room to get ready for bed, but when you’ve done your nightly routine and talked a bit with Jaehyun on the phone, you stared up at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. You slipped out of your room, thinking Jaehyun’s mom must have gone to bed, until you were proven wrong as you see her still seated outside holding herself from the cold, night air. Grabbing a spare blanket from the cabinets, you walked over to her and put it over her shoulders.

“Mrs. Jung, you’ll get sick.” You quietly said, taking a seat on the adjacent chair.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re marrying my son. You can call me mom or mother now.” She softly chuckles, “And I hadn’t realized that I’ve been out here for too long. I just remembered something, that’s all.”

“If you’d like, you could talk about it to me.” You offered, folding your hands over your lap, “I’ve learned the hard way that it’s not best to go to sleep with a heavy heart.”

“It’s nothing, dear, you don’t have to worry.” She looks over to the dark abyss of the night sea, unable to see the waves crashing into the shore despite hearing them clear as day. Every now and then an owl hoots somewhere in the trees. She looks back at you with a smile, eyes tired from the day’s activities, “How about you, dear? It seems like you can’t sleep either.”

You wanted to tell her everything; from what Jaehyun had done in college to the current issue at hand. This woman is going to be your in-law, yet she’d been acting like your second mother since you’ve met her. A part of you always feared she’d be wicked and mean towards you, but all those thoughts were thrown out the window once you got to know her more.

“I…” You started off, and her perfect brow just lifted up ever so slightly, “I know about Jaehyun’s disorder; the BPD.”

In an instant, there was shock in her eyes as if she had heard you wrong, but then it morphed into something similar to fear. “Oh. H-how did…?”

So you told her everything you could in the steadiest voice you can muster; from the incident in college, to the therapy sessions, to the threats against you, you told her everything and it amazes you that you were able to admit it without crying. You’re not going to lie; telling someone else felt relieving, especially since it’s someone who knows Jaehyun — literally raised him. You only stopped when you noticed her eyes tearing up and you internally panicked.

“You know about my son’s condition?” Her lips quivered, brows finally burrowed and a hand flies over her mouth to contain her sob.

“M-mother…” You stuttered, holding your hands out to her. “I— no matter what happens, I’m not going to tell anyone else about it, I promise—”

“Oh, sweetheart,” She quietly cries, “All these years, I’ve feared my son won’t be able to find someone to love and understand him. [Y/N], you’re godsent. You know what goes through his head… he’s shown you what he could do… yet you stayed? You still want to marry him?”

This makes you tear up, somewhat understanding the fear of a mother for their child. “I’ve thought about it for so long honestly, but no matter what excuses I come up with, I can’t imagine a future without him.”

She cries a little harder, hiding her face into her palms. You move to sit beside her, putting an arm around her and hugging her gently. After a while, you pull away and she looks at you with a smile. “Thank you for loving my son.”

“Thank you for giving birth to him.”

This makes both of you laugh as she pulls you into a hug, “[Y/N], sweetheart, if ever his BPD acts up, if  he ever scares you again, please come to me, okay?”

You replied with a promise, hugging back and feeling your eyes stinging at the sudden weight being lifted over your chest.

“Now,” She says, pulling away and holding onto your shoulders, “Tell me more about these threats. I can’t believe Jaehyun wouldn’t tell us about it.”

“He probably thinks he has it under control and I trust him. We don’t want any of you to worry.”

“That’s nonsense! We’re your parents, we’re always worried about you.” She scolds, “But knowing Jaehyun, he probably has done the most he can do. I’m sure this issue will be resolved soon… and I’m sorry for the things Jaehyun has done in the past. I wish I could say I would have done something to stop him, but his father—”

She stops mid-sentence, lashes fluttering as she realizes the words that were about to come out of her mouth. She inhales deeply, “You’re marrying into the family. You have the right to know. Most of the Jungs have BPD; it’s horrible that it’s genetic, but with proper therapy it would mean nothing.”

You licked your lips, already knowing this fact. “So… Jaehyun’s father…”

“His father and I were arranged to be married. It made sense because our parents were business partners so we didn’t have any qualms on it, his father was quite handsome — I’d have to admit that Jaehyun is practically the carbon copy of him now. But then eventually, I learned that his father had personally requested to have us arranged. When I confronted him about it, he chalked it up to him liking me but being shy around me. He first showed me his true colors when he demanded me to quit my work; I’m an event planner, I travel all around the country for my work if needed and he didn’t like that. He accused me of cheating and such, which were all false of course, but he just couldn’t believe it. He started getting angry, very vocal, never laid a hand on me though, but I still got scared. It was when we found out that I was pregnant with Jaehyun that he finally told me everything about him, how he was scared he’d inherit it. That was the first time I’ve seen him so vulnerable and raw. It was then I decided to obey him and quit my job.”

“I thought you left your job to take care of Jaehyun.”

“No,” She sighs, “I left my job because his father told me to.”

“I’m sorry, baby.”

You smiled, although your brows were furrowed. It was Monday morning and you were preparing lunch since Kyungwon was coming over to work things out for Yuta’s apartment. Jaehyun was supposed to arrive later that evening until you received a call from him and put him on speaker.

“Jaehyun, it’s fine. I understand. Work is work. Do what you have to do.” But you have to admit you’re a little disappointed his trip had to be extended for a few more days since he had to go to China to meet up with Sicheng.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“You don’t have to. Just stay safe, okay?” You silently hissed when you accidentally touched the metal knob of the pot lid. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Tell Kyungwon I said hi.”

“Okay. Bye, baby.” You glanced over to your phone and waited for him to drop the call before checking the penne pasta you’ve been boiling. Kyungwon had originally told you to come to the office, but you insisted she came over instead and she had no qualms about it. You’ve already laid out your laptop and papers on half of the dining table so you two could get things done quickly.

She arrives a little past twelve since she came from the office and right off the bat, you could tell something was off with her. She was still her bubbly self, but something wasn’t right. You couldn’t question her about it because she commented about being hungry and it would be rude to keep your guest waiting for food.

“Oh my god! So you’ve chosen a wedding location already? Ah! [Y/N], I’m so excited for you!” She squeals, vibrating in her seat so hard that the pasta she’s stabbed through her fork has fallen back onto the plate. “And a spring wedding? Gosh! It’s going to be beautiful.”

“Enough about me, Kyung. How about you? What’s been going on back at the office? Are the old employees back?”

“Yes. Ugh! Somehow they got it into their heads that they’re so great because they got rehired by the company.” She scowls, rolling her eyes and shoving pasta into her mouth. “But aside from that, it's the same old, same old. Oh! Eunbi from finance is pregnant with her rebound.”

“Rebound? She broke up with her boyfriend?”

Kyungwon shakes her head with a smug look on her face, “No, honey, her boyfriend dumped her last month.”

“Oh my god, is the rebound going to take responsibility?”

“It looks like it. She’s a lot happier — and good for her! Her ex was rude whenever he got invited to any of our hangouts.”

You nod your head, picking up your glass of water, “So how about you? Have you gotten laid yet?”

She uncharacteristically falls silent, eyebrows shooting up to her forehead as she avoids your gaze momentarily until she snaps it back to meet your stare. In one breath, she says: “Okay, don’t be mad but I slept with Yuta.”

You pushed your chair back, trying to hold yourself back from spitting the water you had just drank. After forcefully swallowing, you breathed in deeply and looked back at Kyungwon, who now covered her blushing face with her hands. “Whoa.”

“You said it was okay!”

“I’m not scolding you!”

She threw herself back on the seat and whined, “I’ve kept this secret for so long since I can’t blab about it back in the office. Oh, [Y/N], he’s a fucking god.”

You pursed your lips, “I don’t think I need to know the details about my client’s sex life.”

“Okay, but he’s a fucking god.”

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. “It’s either that’s true or you’ve been out of the game for too long.”

“Please. None of my exes can compare to what that man did to me.” Her dreamy smile slowly falls, “But we made it strictly physical and he seems pretty closed off, too.”

“Wait, it wasn’t just a one night stand?”

She flicks her hair off her shoulder and clicks her tongue, “I guess he’s lonely, too.”

“But good for you, Kyungwon. At least you’re getting laid.”

“Why do you sound like you’re not getting laid? You’re getting married to a Greek god.”

“It’s not that.” You laughed, “Did it sound like that? It’s just because he’s overseas at the moment and I’m feeling lonely.”

Kyungwon snorts, side-eyeing you as she takes a drink from her glass. “Honey, don’t tell me you solely depend on Jaehyun to get off.”

“I—” You feel your face heat up. Come to think of it, you haven’t masturbated in a while. You’ve touched yourself, but those were in front of him and he’d never let you come undone with your fingers alone. “Well, no, I don’t. I can do it on my own, but it’s just not gratifying.”

“Is it bad that I’m curious what he’s like in bed?”

“Only if you try to find out.”

“God, no, of course not.” She recoils, “Just one of the many curiosities I have that I won’t act on. This thing with Yuta is a weekly thing, you know. Unless he calls me.”

You finish your meal, “You’re a booty call.”

“I’d do anything for that dick.”

“Hey, he’s our client, remember. Don’t get hypnotized by the dick.”

“Oh, [Y/N], if you only knew.” She lets out a dreamy sigh and you laugh, throwing your napkin at her.

“I don’t plan to. Get your head out of his pants, we have to work on his apartment.”

After putting away your dishes, you and Kyungwon began to work; making final checks for orders and deliveries, browsing for more design pieces, and the likes. It took longer than you two expected, extending up two hours than what you had originally planned. You finally decided to stop when you spy from the corner of your eye Kyungwon stifling a yawn, uploading all your work onto the shared drive between the three of you before stretching your arms upwards.

“Are you hungry?”

“Please tell me you have some good ol’ ramen in your pantry.”

You scoffed, “Of course, I do. I’ll go make some right now.”

You have the ramen cooked and ready for consumption in no time; each of you had a full bowl with a few side dishes you were able to put together while the water boiled. Instead of work, you and Kyungwon talked about your new house; told her about the materials you wanted, your plans for each room, the layout, and she even offered her own insight that you considered.

“4 bedrooms on the second floor?”

“Well, 3 bedrooms and the nursery. The fourth room will be turned to a walk-in closet for me and Jaehyun to share.”

“Oh my god, that would be a dream to design!”

You purse your lips, “Well, the two extra rooms are for our future kids. I’m sure they’ll want to renovate as they grow older. Would you like to work on their rooms when the time comes?”

She fakes a gasp, covering her mouth, “I would be honored! But gosh, when’s this happening? In 20 years?”

Both of you laugh as you finish your noodles. Kyungwon offered to do the dishes, but you refused, and fortunately, she received a call from a different client that forced her to leave. She thanked you for the day and you walked to the door, where both of you were surprised to see Hyunwoo about to ring the bell.

“Good evening, ma’am. These came in for you.” He smiles, holding out the flowers and teddy bear.

“Oh, thank you.” You glanced at Kyungwon, showing your confusion at the situation.

“I’m totally not jealous that your fiance sent you apology gifts for not coming home today.” She shrugs her shoulders, feeling the teddy bear’s ear between her fingertips. “But I’m oddly really happy for you. See you soon, [Y/N].”

You kiss her cheek and wave her goodbye, “See you, Kyungwon.”

After they leave, you heaved a sigh and inspected the gifts. Red roses, like always, and a pretty hefty teddy bear. You thought it was odd, but Jaehyun has his cheesy moments, excusing the teddy bear as a stand in for himself so you won’t get lonely until he gets home. You walk back to the dining table to put the gifts down and pick up your phone, dialling his number to thank him, but the call wouldn’t connect. He’s either on the plane already or he doesn’t have a signal. Instead, you put the flowers in a vase and placed it on the dining table as a centerpiece.

Before having a late dinner of some scrambled eggs and spam, you worked on both the interior of the mansion and looking for a wedding gown inspo. Sooyeon told you to prepare what you had in mind for a wedding gown and she’ll hook you up with any of the top wedding dress designers in the industry. You’re torn between empire and A-line dresses, liking both fits on your body but couldn’t decide which is better for the theme. You also didn’t know if you wanted lace or tulle, what type of neckline, the accents, etc. All the dresses looked so good and you already know not to bring it up to Jaehyun because he’ll make some bullshit excuse to buy all of them. Although you don’t mind having different dresses; like changing into something more simple for the reception. You were also concerned about what shoes to wear since it’s a garden wedding, you wouldn’t be able to wear heels that you would have preferred. 

You have a shower before heading to bed, taking your time in lathering your body with lavender-scented body wash to help you relax. After breezing through your nighttime routine, you walked out to the bed while tugging your hair loose from the haphazardly tied bun you put in. Seeing the empty bed reminded you of the teddy bear you had received earlier and you quickly went out of the room to grab it on the dining table to retrieve it. You weren’t really going to sleep with it, but you’d like to put it on the accent chair you had on the opposite side of the room.

Your phone rings just as you were about to put on some lotion and you smile to yourself seeing Jaehyun’s name. You put him on loudspeaker, “Hi, baby.”

“Hi, baby.” His voice drawls, “Sorry I couldn’t pick up earlier. I was on the plane and I couldn’t get to you when I landed because Sicheng and his friends took me to a bar.”

“Jaehyun, baby, are you drunk right now?”

“No, baby, just a little tipsy. Did you get my little gift? Toss the old flowers out.”

“You didn’t have to, but thanks.” You hummed, unscrewing the cap of your favorite body butter tin. “Where are you now?”

“Don’t worry, I’m already at my hotel room. I wanted to hear your voice before I go to sleep.”

“I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” He pauses on the other side of the line and you hear what sounded like him getting into bed, “Were you about to go to sleep, too?”

“Yeah, I’m just putting lotion on.”

A long, low moan echoes from your phone and you halt your movements. A tipsy, lonely Jaehyun could only mean one thing.

“Baby, can we video call?”

The next two days were uneventful; you visited the mansion to oversee the renovations being done and was pleased to see it going smoothly as it was exactly as you envisioned it. Other than that, you also spent a lot of time going through IKEA and other home decor stores, picking out possible pieces you’d purchase. It’s still a stressful thought to think you have an entire mansion to design AND you get to live in it. Whenever you had clients for projects like these, you always mused to yourself how you would like it if you were the one living in the said space but now that the time has come, you’re overwhelmed.

Just as you got home, you get a call from Jaehyun.

“Hi, baby.”

“Hey. I just got home.” You closed the door and locked it, while kicking your shoes off.

“Oh, good. Could you do me a favor? There’s an important file on my computer that I forgot to upload to the drive. Do you mind sending it to Sicheng using my email?”

“Sure, which file is it?”

As Jaehyun explains the file to you, you made your way to his office and flipped the light switch on. Plopping yourself down on his chair, you powered up his computer and waited for it to start. Meanwhile, you two updated each other of your days and plans for tomorrow.

“Okay, I found the file. What’s Sicheng’s email?” You typed in the address after Jaehyun dictates and clicked send. “Done! Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?”

Jaehyun chuckles, whispering into the phone, “You can be ready in bed when I come home on Friday.”

“Alright, sir.” You purred, leaning back on his chair. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. See you on Friday.”

After hanging up, you reach for the mouse to turn the computer off until your eyes gloss over the name ‘Jeong Yoonoh’ as one of the names listed in Jaehyun’s mailboxes. You remember seeing it a few weeks ago and it completely left your mind, but now you’re curious about it. Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth; it’s wrong to snoop around Jaehyun’s email like this, but you give into temptation anyway.

A relieved and incredulous sigh leaves you when you spot the prominent subject and sender, even letting out a little chuckle when you see the dates of the emails. This was Jaehyun’s burner email for porn sites back when he was in high school. You wanted to tease him about it so badly, but then you had to tell him that you were snooping around in his computer. Other emails looked like spam that came with signing up for the porn sites so you didn’t pay much attention since most of them involved viagra, online dating, and the likes. You were about to click out to hide evidence of your snooping around until you read the sender’s name: Detective Go Hyunmo of Gangnam P.I. Agency. You thought it was odd, but maybe it was spam like the rest, unless this email got caught accessing porn sites. It didn’t have a subject so you couldn’t really tell, but you still didn't open it and closed the computer after clicking out of the browser. As you switched the lights off and closed Jaehyun’s office door behind you, you can’t help but feel like you’ve heard Gangnam P.I. Agency before.

Jaehyun comes home today and you feel like a child waiting for their parents who’d been away for too long. He said he’ll be dropping some documents at the office and will be home after lunch. As he requested two days ago, you were going to be ready in bed for him when he returns and that means a tedious DIY spa session after you had breakfast. Once you were showered, exfoliated, and moisturized, you put on the new lingerie set you bought yesterday; a black sheer bra that had crocheted flowers and matching crotchless panties that had a string of pearls that ran right over your slit. It felt incredibly embarrassing when you tried it on, especially when the pearls move along your clit every time you moved.

“Honey, I’m home!” You hear outside the room just before the door closes. You booked out of the walk-in closet and ran, as quietly as you can, back into the bedroom, sparing a glance down the hallway to make sure Jaehyun doesn’t catch you. You ungracefully flung yourself to the bed, scrambling to find a position to present yourself to him, but you accidentally elbowed your phone off and it makes a loud thud on the floor.

“[Y/N]?”

Cussing under your breath, you stretch your arm out to grab your phone to put on the nightstand but then you hear a long whistle that makes you drop it again. You whipped your attention to Jaehyun, who now stood at the door frame with the first few buttons of his dress shirt already undone, and you smiled, “Welcome home?”

“Wow.” He drawls, dragging his eyes down your body, “When I said be ready for me, you really took it a step further. Is that new?”

“I got it yesterday.” You leaned back on your arms, folding your legs a little, “It’s a little more special than the others.”

“How so?” He takes slow steps towards you, tossing his blazer off.

Peeling your legs apart, you spread them out for him to see just what you were talking. You feel heat rising to your cheeks as Jaehyun’s eyes stared at your pearls and his tongue just darted out of his lips. An easy smile grows on his face, walking up to the bed and running a hand over your inner thigh.

“Damn, I didn’t know pearls looked good on you.” He runs a finger over the shiny beads, “But nothing can compare to my favorite pearl.”

Pushing the pearls aside, he presses your clit with his thumb and your hips instinctively buck upwards to meet his touch. He keeps his thumb on your clit while he runs two fingers between your pussy in a languid manner.

“You look so good, baby.” Jaehyun leans down to kiss the spot above your navel. “I hope you’re ready for me.”

“Always.” 

He pulls away to remove his belt and as he does so, his eyes flutter to the other side of the room and he cocks his head, “You bought a teddy bear? Were you that lonely when I was gone?”

“What?” You sit up, glancing at the stuffed toy, “You got me that. It came with the roses.”

Jaehyun looks back at you, face completely stoic, before stepping away to walk over to the item in question.

“Jaehyun?”

He picks the toy up and inspects it, turning it over a few times until he squints at the bear’s beady eyes. A low growl escapes him as he closes his fist around the toy’s head and rips it away from the body, the distinct sound of thread snapping and cloth ripping filling the silence of the room.

“Jaehyun, what the fuck?” You scoot over the edge of the bed, ready to stop him until he swiftly turns back to you. His expression sends shivers down your spine; you’ve seen that look before and you can’t believe you’re seeing it again.

“I never gave you this fucking bear, [Y/N].” He hurls the decapitated head to the side with so much force that the cotton filled toy makes a resounding thud against the wall. He forces his hand inside the bear’s head and takes out a small black cube. “There’s a fucking camera in it’s head. Who handed these to you?”

“H-Hyunwoo did… Wait, Jaehyun, can we—”

He slams the camera onto the floor, breaking it into pieces, before storming out the bedroom. You were frozen from flinching at his outburst that it took you awhile to collect yourself, scrambling off the bed to grab his discarded blazer and running out after him.

“Jae, wait!” You yelled, slipping his jacket on and clutching it close over your chest.

“Hyunwoo, did the flowers I had delivered here last Monday come with a teddy bear?” Jaehyun was on his phone, pacing by the couch. “It came separately? Which came first? The flowers? Fucking— go find out who delivered them and report back to me ASAP.”

He ends the call and angrily throws his cellphone to the floor, rubbing his forehead with his fingers.

“Baby…” You silently gulped, approaching him cautiously; you don’t know what to say, however, completely at a loss for words at the revelation. “What’s happening?”

Jaehyun still doesn’t look at you when he tears his hand away and puts them to his hips, glaring down at wilting begonias. In a split second, he grabs the pot and hurls it across the room; shards of clay, dirt, leaves, and petals exploding against the wall. You gasped, instinctively hugging yourself to block off any debris in case it reached you.

“Jaehyun, what the fuck?!”

“I didn’t give you that damn plant and I didn’t give you that fucking bear either!” He yelled, nose flaring and veins popping out of his neck. “I don’t know who the fuck this shithead is, but I’m going find and kill him.”

He starts walking to the front door with wide steps, fixing the belt he had previously undone.

“Jaehyun, wait!” Your chest clenches in panic, “Jaehyun!”

When he was a few more paces away from the door, you gave one last scream of his name; you’re sure your neighbors heard you and are a phone call away from the police if they also heard the things Jaehyun had thrown around. He looks back at you, still visibly infuriated at the situation, but his expression softens into concern when he sees your face.

You don’t know when you started crying, but you were suddenly aware of it when a few tears dropped onto your hand that still clutched onto his blazer. “Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t the one who gave the begonias?”

“I—I didn’t want you to panic…” He licks his lips, fully turning his body to face you.

“A-and now… and now w-we just found out that I was being… being secretly recorded for—for d-days,” Your vision starts to blur as fresh tears spring from your eyes, “And you’re just going to leave — again?”

He looks absolutely crushed to see you like this, “Y-you’re right. I’m sorry — no, okay, I won’t leave, come here.”

He wraps his arms around you, squeezing you tight and repeatedly kissing the top of your head while you hide your face in his chest to sob.

“What do they want with me?”

“No, I don’t think they’re after you, baby.” Jaehyun whispers, still kissing your hair while running his hand down your back to console you. “I think they’re after me.”

This doesn’t make you feel any better. You cry a little harder, body shaking in his hold as you looped your arms around his waist. Jaehyun’s enemies are your enemies, if he truly had any. This should have been common knowledge to you already. It’s no secret how important you are to him and it only makes sense that they’ll pick on you to get to him. You���ve already handled the demon in his mind; you’ve learned to accept it. Dealing with someone — an actual human being — from Jaehyun’s world is wading through murky waters. You’re either the target or the bait, and it’s upsetting to think that whichever you’re treated as, someone’s going to get hurt. No, there’s this horrible gut feeling, a nagging voice in the back of your head, that just tells you that chances are…

Someone’s going to die.

a/n: it’s a little shorter again, but we’re getting closer and closer to the climax and aaaaaah the trailer drop!!!!! like always, please please please let me know what you guys think here 

next: part 11

~ buy me a peach? why?

#nct smut #nct scenarios #jaehyun smut #jaehyun scenarios #devoted au

[exophile3d]

Old Rip (Part 2)

Male Gargoyle, Female Reader.

Part 1 (SFW)

Part 2 (SFW)

You cannot remember a worse date. The restaurant is overpriced and as pretentious as you feared, and Greg - the DB9-driving banker - fits right in. The courses are small and fiddly and almost everything tastes bitter. There is at least no shortage of wine, and since Greg seems happy to keep your glass full, you’re happy to do anything to numb your senses and speed the evening to its end. Although initially he talks of turning the gatehouse into an onsite shop for the luxury flats, you manage to convince him that you and Grumpa know everything there is to know about the manor, its needs and pecularities, the grounds maintenance, and the many licences and permits required to be renewed on an annual basis. By the end of the last course, you’re almost sure you’ve convinced him you’re indispensable.

It’s inevitable really. He’s hired a chauffeur-driven Bentley to ferry the two of you around for the evening, and on the way back to Ravenscourt, he gets handsy in the back seat. You make your feelings on the matter perfectly clear, land him with a punch that’ll have him singing soprano for days, and get out of the car a mile from your gate in the pouring rain. As the car turns and speeds back past you, you realise you’ve just made you and Grumpa homeless for the sake of your pride, and the rain washes your tears as you trudge the last few hundred yards to your little cottage. A light is still on in your porch, but the rest of the house is dark. You don’t want to be alone right now, but you also don’t want to wake your grandfather, so you climb the crumbling spiral steps to the narrow stone walkway that runs along the back of the archway, slick with rain. You reach your usual spot and wobbling a little from the wine, you dangle your legs over the edge just to the left of Old Rip’s face. Your thighs settle into their usual spots and you look out across the darkened driveway. There is no sound but the steady patter of rain, the night wind in the trees and the occasional hooting of an owl.

You tell Old Rip everything, leaving nothing out and examining and cross-examining your actions and feelings. You tell him of the choice you had and the choice you made, of your love for both the old manor and your Grumpa, and of your fears for the future. He’s always been a good listener, but tonight you wish he was able to give something back. You’d give your left arm for some advice right about now. Giving him one more affectionate pat on his ribbed stone pate, you swing your legs back across the low wall at the top, but overbalance in the dark and the wind, toppling into empty air with a shriek. You jolt to an abrupt halt, suspended some twenty feet above the wet gravel, feet dangling freely. You glance up, forcing air back into your shocked lungs, to find you’re caught on one of Old Rip’s clawed hands. It appears to be snagged on the hood of your jacket, and because it’s zipped up to your neck, you’re going nowhere. As you spin above the ground in the rain-soaked blackness, the stresses of the day and the evening, the excess wine you’ve drunk, and the dizzying effect of your predicament combine to send you spiralling into blessed darkness. Just as your eyes close, you could almost swear you see Old Rip’s stone face turn.

You wake the following morning on your bed, your jacket still zipped to your chin and your boots resting on wet, muddy spots on the covers. You’re not sure how you made it down, but you were so drunk last night that you probably fell like a rag doll and managed to land without injury before dragging yourself to bed. You’ve heard of weirder things happening. After a shower that thaws the chill from your bones, you fry up a breakfast for you and Grumpa and you sit down together in uncomfortable silence.

“So how’d it go with the new owner?” asks Grumpa eventually. You can see he was hesitant to ask. Your stewardship of the estate has always come with free lodgings and a small stipend, but in Grumpa’s time, people took jobs for life, and there’s never been a need for him to save enough to buy his own place. But times have changed. If Greg does turf you out, as seems likely, you can probably manage to scrape up enough between you to put down a rental downpayment on a tiny flat in a bad area. You hate to have to break the news, but you also can’t keep it from him.

“Not well. I think he’s going to want us out.”

Grumpa nods and chews his breakfast stolidly.

“I’ll start looking for places we can afford when the local paper comes later,” you say, a little surprised at his reaction.

“If you like,” he says, rising and taking his dishes to the sink.

“If I l- you do realise we’re going to have to move?” you ask. He’s getting on in years, but until now, you’d always thought he had kept all his marbles.

He shrugs and heads off outside, avoiding your question. “Archway’s fixed,” comes his comment from just outside the door.

“The arch - what?” You frown and hurry out to join him. He’s right. The foot-long block of masonry is back under Old Rip’s hand with not a trace of damage. “Grumpa! Did you-”

The old man shakes his head and pats you on the shoulder with a smile before going about his work.

The day is a whirl of phone calls and tasks and meetings and arguments which keep your mind blessedly occupied, otherwise you’d be frying your noodle over how you got down from the wall without breaking both your legs, and how that massive block of stone, which must weigh as much as a small child, got back into place overnight. But all is not going well with the renovations. While the banker is itching to get started - time is money - all manner of things appear to be going wrong. The builders turn up to find none of their equipment will work in any of the estate’s power outlets; the architects’ plans vanish from their ipads to be replaced with schematics for a theme park in Ireland; and the digger breaks down ten feet from the front gate, effectively blocking it for most of the day.

You clamber up to your usual perch above the drive at lunchtime, watching in amusement as three men in overalls stare in confusion at the digger’s engine and try ever more elaborate plans to try to get it started. You chuckle as one of them emerges from the engine bay with a broken spanner and you dangle a companionable arm over Rip’s stony head.

“Did you have a hand in all this, you rascal?”. You offer him the first mouthful of your sandwich, as you’ve done almost every day since you were a child. He’s never taken it of course, but this time, when you raise it to your mouth, there’s a bite-sized chunk missing.

Part 3

#monster x human #monster love #monster boyfriend #monster fucker #monster lover #gargoyle boyfriend #gargoyle #fantasy #romance #adventure #angst

[wkemeup]

What about the time reader says I love you for the first time and it's not very good timing and they dont see each other for a bit after she says it and she's worried she messed up?

+ anon request of “At what point do they say I love you cause I feel like they’re both already half way in love with each other by the time they leave the airport lol”

Im With You - Masterlist

“Doll, I really gotta go,” Bucky laughed, one foot inside the taxi, the rest of him leaning up and over the door as you kept your hands gripped into the collar of his shirt. He giggled like a kid on a playground as you pressed kisses to his nose, his cheeks, his forehead, his lips. Neither of you minded as the taxi driver impatiently blared down on the horn.

It was hard to let go of him knowing he’d be leaving for two weeks to visit Rebecca at Oxford. He was so proud the day she’d called and told him she’d been accepted to their graduate program, he’d shouted the news to the entire café at near eight in the morning, startling an old man into spilling his tea down his front. Bucky had apologized profusely, bought the man a new drink and scone to make up for the mess, but he was giddy with pride, whistling and grinning to himself, for the entire day.

Six months had passed the graduation and things had been better between Bucky and his sister. They texted once every few weeks, a short exchange here and there, simple questions about Bucky’s job and whether Rebecca had started packing yet. They were mending something that had been severed for years. It would take time. They both knew that.

But this was a good step.

“Sweetheart, stop it! I’m gonna miss my flight,” Bucky warned, trying to pull away again, though he didn’t put much effort into it. He was usually the one fighting for affection, pulling you into his arms on the street and kissing you until strangers turned away awkwardly. He liked the attention and wondered if he should travel more just to see this side of you again.

“Okay, okay,” you conceded, letting go of his shirt and he fell into his seat with a huff. His hair was messy from where your hands had run through it and he had that blissed out kind of look on his face that made your stomach twist to knots. You closed the door behind him and tapped on the roof of the taxi.

Bucky rolled down the window, resting his forearms on the frame as the driver switched on the turn signal. You stepped back to the sidewalk, giving him a short wave.

“I’ll call,” Bucky promised. He looked like a damn dream.

“I know you will,” you replied, arms folded over your chest as you smiled back at him.

The taxi started to pull out into the street and you missed him already. Bucky mouthed a last goodbye, his voice obstructed by the shout of the cabby as he cursed out the driver next to him. You laughed, following the few feet down the sidewalk to be with him just a little longer.

“Just fly safe, alright? Have fun for me,” you laughed, shaking your head at Bucky’s attempts to hold a conversation with you from his window of the taxi.

“Won’t be possible without you!” He was practically screaming. His driver looked about ready to toss him on the street.

“Goodbye, Bucky,” you teased, shaking your head as you started to back away. “Love you.”

Bucky's smile fell away in an instant. Face falling into shock. Eyes wide. “What?”

You raised a brow. You couldn’t hear him. A bike zoomed past you, keeping you from walking out to the curb. “What’s wrong?”

“What did you just say?” he called over the rush of traffic, then turning to the cab driver to get him to pull over but it was too late. The cab disappeared into the flow of cars.

Shaking your head, you pulled out your phone at the soft vibrations in your pocket, Bucky’s face illuminated on the screen, when a sudden heavy force slammed into your side, sending you spiraling to the ground. You fell with a thud against your left hip, turning to find a jogger in expensive running gear sending an apologetic grimace over his shoulder as he pointed at his watch, a signal that he needed to keep his pace and couldn’t bother to stop to help you.

You rolled your eyes, trying to find your footing again when you realized your phone had been thrown from your hands. It was a few feet into the street, but it appeared unharmed. Bucky’s name was still lit up on the screen. The slight wave of relief was short lived until a Tesla drove right over it as you took your first step off the curb, its horn screaming at you.

Your phone was in pieces.

Well, shit.

You thought about running upstairs to grab your computer before realizing Bucky took your laptop to the Apple store a few days ago after it started displaying the blue screen of death. With no access to your phone or social media, you’d just have to hope whatever he was so concerned about wasn’t a huge deal. You’d get your phone sorted out in a few hours.

Hopefully you could track him down before his flight took off.

-

Later, after you’d spent an hour sitting in the lobby of the cell store, waiting for your turn, you started thinking back to your goodbye with Bucky, wondering what had set him off. You’d been teasing him. It was hard to hear over the horns of the traffic and the pedestrians around you, but you were certain he’d known you were joking with him.

He said he’d call.

You told him to be safe. Have fun.

He made his corny jokes.

You said goodbye and then...

“Shit!” you gasped, hands clamping to your mouth as a mother quickly stood from her seat next to you carrying a three-year-old now repeating the curse word on a loop. She glared at you and you couldn’t hold it together enough to offer an apology.

You’d told him you loved him.

You'd known for a while, felt it almost before you’d even boarded the plane back to the city that first weekend, but you were never supposed to tell him like this. You were going to wait a few more months, when it felt like a reasonable time when most normal couples who met in a perfectly average way would have said that sort of thing.

Not as he was driving away to board a flight to London for the next two weeks.

“Oh, God,” you whined, sinking into the chair, remembering the look on his face, how his smile had fallen away, how shocked he’d been. You pinched at the bridge of your nose, your cheeks hot with embarrassment, and you tried to make yourself as small as you could manage.

It didn’t work.

“Y/n?”

You glanced up to find an employee in a red shirt calling your name. She offered you a sad smile as you hulled yourself to your feet. The look on her face was warning enough.

“It looks like we’re going to need two weeks to get the parts for your phone,” she said.

You nodded. Of course.

“You’re welcome to use one of our other devices in the meantime.” She gestured to a wall of phones, all of which were priced at rentals well over your budget. You didn’t have the spare funds to be wasting on the parts for your phone, let alone another phone entirely.

“N-No, I’ll manage,” you said dejectedly. You’d lived without a cellphone once in your life. You’d been a kid in the age before children had iPads and touchscreens were considered the peak of technology. You could get through this.

Until you realized you didn't know Bucky’s number. Or Steve’s. Or anyone that could possibly get you in contact with him once his plane landed in London. You wondered if he’d still try to call only to be met with your voicemail or if you’d freaked him out enough to keep his distance. You wouldn’t find out, you supposed. He had no way of reaching you until he got back.

-

It was the day Bucky was supposed to get back.

You had spent the past two weeks in constant anxiety. There had been a few times you thought about tracking down Steve at his place, but you couldn’t remember the address or how to get there. How had you become so reliant on a damn phone?

So, you sat on your couch, staring at the wall. He’d go straight home, you were sure. He'd be exhausted from jetlag and the itinerary of sights Rebecca likely dragged him and his mother on. You’d seen her email detailing the trip before he left. He'd been so excited.

You were about to go downstairs to check your mail again, hoping they’d shipped you your phone by now, when you heard a sudden pounding on the door that forced a skip in your heart.

“Y/n?! Please tell me you’re in there! Jesus— open the door.”

Bucky?

You found yourself paralyzed, terrified to even stand. The pounding continued.

“Come on,” Bucky called and you could the crack in his voice, the panic. “Don’t do this to me. I gotta talk to you. Please be home. Please be home.”

You swallowed nervously, standing on wobbling legs as you made your way to the door. He was still knocking on the other side, calling out to you and you could hear your neighbors shouting at him to quiet down, but he didn’t let up.

The moment you unfastened the deadbolt, he silenced instantly. A squeak in the floor meant he took a step back and you slowly opened the door.

He stood in the frame; dark circles under his eyes and his luggage down at his feet. He was out of breath.

Then, unable to take the tension, you boke spoke at once.

“You didn’t answer my calls.”

“A Tesla ran over my phone.”

Bucky paused, confused. “Wait-- what?”

You took a deep breath, twisting at your hands nervously, avoiding his eyes. “A, um, a Tesla ran over my phone after you left. I’ve been waiting on a replacement but the interim phones were too expensive and you took my computer to the shop earlier this week, so I haven’t been able to get ahold of anyone and I’ve been--”

“Oh, thank God.” Bucky engulfed you into his arms, causing you to stumble back a few paces into your kitchen, but he held you steady. His nose pressed in tight to your neck, arms constricting at your waist. “You weren’t picking up when I called and I thought—I thought you didn’t--”

He didn’t finish the thought.

“You did mean it, right?” he asked slowly, pulling back just enough to see your eyes. He was searching you, scanning you, but you couldn’t speak. “Tell me you did. I’ve been going crazy, doll. I almost got on a flight back about seven different times but my ma kept trying to tell me I was being nuts, but I— I couldn’t stand the idea of you not knowing I love you, too.”

“You what?” The air left your lungs, Bucky’s face still nuzzled in tight to the crook of your neck, his words slightly muffled by the cotton of your sweatshirt.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to see your face. There was a kind of relief in his eyes as a heavy breath left his lungs. He brushed a hair away from your face, thumb tracing delicately over your cheekbone.

“I love you,” he said again, so calmly, so sweetly, it ignited a storm of fireworks and butterflies in your stomach. “Please tell me I wasn’t hearing you wrong because I’ll start feeling really damn stup--”

Lips crashed to his, hands curling tight into the lapel of his jacket, as close as you could manage to get him. He smiled against your lips, the soft vibrations of his laugh warm against you, and you melded to him. It was where you should be.

Only after your lungs were tight without air, you pulled back, pressing a kiss to his cheeks, the corners of his mouth, his nose, his jaw, until he was laughing and smiling wide enough for it to wrinkle by his eyes.

Bucky wrapped his arms around your shoulders, holding you close. “So, does this mean--”

You swatted his arm, kissing him again, before you said what you’d been waiting to since the day you boarded the flight back to NYC, hand in hand, without the weight of your insecurities on your shoulders, a burden he’d helped in lifting.

“I love you, too.”

—

Ok folks that’s the end of this lovely series! I’ve so appreciated the love and support on my first real attempt at fluff ♥️ I hope this sustains you through the next one shot I plan on posting (hint: it’s titled A Twice Broken Man) and my next major series about undercoverFBIagent!Bucky infiltrating Hydra 👀

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes one shot #marvel

[chonzu]

This is the beginning of an idea I had where Atsuhiro survives the attack and ends up in Tartarus. I want to expand on it but I’ve worked on this for a few days and I’m happy with it I suppose! Spoilers for Chapter 294/295 ofc.

I apologize for the weird formatting, I’ve been working on mobile/iPad for a while now.

--

He loved the League. He would give his life for the League and their leader’s ideals and he knew that’s how it would end as he hit the ground, snatched out of the air by the blond child he’d barely seen once before months ago at the Yakuza base, and while the rest of that battle lasted barely more than a few minutes, Atsuhiro fell in and out of consciousness more times than he could count. He could not move no matter how hard he tried, but that was alright. If Shigaraki had gotten away, well. He couldn’t blame the kid for leaving him behind.

Atsuhiro let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes.

“Hurry! Go, get the Tartarus staff on site! Get...we need…....alive...”

If he couldn’t move anyway he wasn’t going to struggle—everyone was gone, surely, and the heroes were getting tended to, going by the muffled voices and sirens, and he’d accepted his death by now. As long as his sacrifice wasn’t for nothing, it would be alright.

He was roughly moved again, his mind fogging up more as a numb pain crawled up his side. His arm was restrained, locked down; his body was jostled until he was shoved roughly into the back of a cold vehicle onto a starkly-cold metal surface. Atsuhiro tried to open his eyes, but this was it for him. He let that darkness take him, hoping that the young boss, Spinner, and Dabi had gotten away.

-

His eye snapped open into quiet darkness, into what he guessed was a small and sterile room barely bigger than a closet. Machines hummed and chugged gently to his left and his right shoulder pressed against a cold concrete wall. He tried to speak but his throat was drier than a desert, leaving him sputtering and coughing until he’d caught his breath.

He couldn’t lift his right arm, a cuff had been attached to his wrist, his fake left eye and left mechanical arm had been removed, and he could only imagine what other types of straps were keeping him down on the bed that wasn’t very comfortable and they’d never given him any blankets or turned the heat up. He may as well exist in a dungeon and it wasn’t apparent that there were any guards near him at the moment.

With his wrist cuffed as it was, it blocked his hand from being unable to touch anything and he didn’t have any smart ideas to get out of this. Truthfully, he thought he was dead, but the straps were tight and deliberately made to keep him from moving his arm at all. The numbness in his hip and chest was almost too much but if he squeezed his eyes shut he almost couldn’t feel it. He felt a little lost and panicked without his left arm.

Remember, he thought. Remember. What got him into this place? A heist gone wrong? Did he steal something from a hero more high-profile than he’d expected? A more dastardly villain than he’d hoped? His work with the League often brought him to many unsuspecting places, but up until recently they’d been working on projects with...the Meta-Liberation Army.

Atsuhiro opened his eye. There’d been a war. That’s right, yes. He’d watched the boss get away, but he couldn’t remember anything after being grabbed by that sunny-haired kid he’d thought they’d gotten rid of a long time ago.

A few minutes into trying to relax, Atsuhiro realized that an alarm was going off on the machine and only got louder and worse the more he suddenly panicked. He pulled against the restraints to no avail. His heart nearly lept out of his chest when the door flew open, the room flooding with a fleet of armed guards and heroes silhouetted black against the harsh white fluorescent lighting that spilled into the room.

“Wh— what?”

A strong hand grabbed his face and turned his head every possible direction, to which he objected loudly and wasn’t heard. The doctor who grabbed him turned him to face them, their gaze cool and steady, but unfocused. He heard whispers from the front of the room that maybe they should stick a muzzle on him like one of their other prisoners, but the doctor handling him waved them away.

Atsuhiro was poked and prodded. “Please, come on. Take me to dinner before you start doing that. I’m /starving/.”

“We both know that’s not going to happen, Sako.” The doctor pressed their lips together, barely giving him so much as a look as they hummed, tapped a pen against their lips, and started to scribble on a clipboard. “Prisoner is awake, far too alert, and begging for food. I’d say we’ve done a good job here.”

“Fuck— what? Prisoner?” Atsuhiro struggled again. “At least tell me where the fuck I am!” Sharp pains in his side would have crumpled him if he didn’t have the restraints tied over his chest.

The doctor turned their back to him. “Prisoner is starting to panic. Sedate him."

They left in a hurry, coat a flurry of fabric behind them lime a cape, and Atsuhiro noticed the lines of drips going into his arm. He struggled more, but when what he assumed was an intern leaned down over a tray of medication he suddenly felt faint.

Before he fainted, Atsuhiro watched a fuzzy guard wave at him.

No, no, no, he thought. No. He couldn’t go out like this again. His eye closed however, and darkness claimed him once more when the door shut tightly and he fell into a fitful doze.

--

"Sako Atsuhiro."

His whole body tingled as he lifted his head. He felt like his mind was rapidly being overwhelmed by the sharp lights, solid metal room, and his arm held at a strange angle, while his body lagged behind him as if trapped in syrup. He had been given only enough pain medication to sit up and talk, but it made his mind fuzzy and he squinted against the harsh white lights of the room and the spotlights angled directly at him. Restraints kept him firmly against the chair, so he was unable to escape. He couldn't if he tried.

Atsuhiro cleared his throat, squinting. "Yes. Yes that's...that’s my name. How can I help you? Besides giving away all of our best secrets, of course."

The man who spoke to him seemed as nondescript as the next guy. Tall, short brown hair, quite a friendly face, business casual. Definitely not the kind of person who would be the main character in a show. A stack of papers sat under his hand. "It's just me in here."

"Okay? And the two hundred people recording this conversation?"

"I just want to talk."

"Well we certainly are! How's life treating you?"

"That's irrelevant. Sako, we have you listed for numerous crimes such as theft, destruction of property, child endangerment, involvement with the League of Villains and the Meta-Liberation Army, just to make a few. Just recently you were caught attempting to land an attack on our heroes.

"I don't really know what to say to that?”

The man hummed. "I understand. We’ll be keeping an eye on you, of course. You have a hip replacement and reconstruction scheduled soon. I’ll be visiting every few days.”

Atsuhiro resisted rolling his eyes. “Please, why are you telling me all of this.”

“Why not? You can’t escape, you can’t move.”

“I see. You know, it’s polite to at least tell someone your name? You seem to know me /quite/ well.”

The man pressed his lips together. He spent a moment writing down a few of his own notes. “I guess you can call me Tsukauchi.”

Atsuhiro blinked, mulling it over. He’d never heard of that name before. “Okay. Why are you bothering to fix me up?”

“The marble that you compressed was lost at the scene so there wasn’t a way to even attempt to assess what you’d lost.” Tsukauchi shrugged. “We obviously need you alive, which I’m sure you already know?” He raised an eyebrow and Atsuhiro pouted. “All prisoners at Tartarus receive /some/ kind of care. We aren’t heartless villains.”

“Yeah, and you use that care to keep us alive and trapped here and for what?”

“Sir, you were involved in committing mass murder.”

“Pah!” Atsuhiro straightened his shoulders. “So let me guess. Keeping me alive here is a worse punishment than death?”

“If that’s how you would like to see it.” Tsukauchi wasn’t looking at him, but seemed to be quite a good listener. “My time here is short today, but I’ll be back again shortly.”

“I look forward to it.” Atsuhiro gave the man his sweetest smile. Tsukauchi stared at him with a peculiar look, then looked down to gather up his notes.

He left silently. Guards crept out of shadows Atsuhiro hadn’t even realized were there and he was being dragged from the stage again. He couldn’t walk, oh no. He could barely /sit up/ and so he was roughly thrown into a wheelchair, the quirk-neutralizing cuff around his arm was adjusted, and straps tightened around his chest and legs.

The doctor who he’d seen numerous times by now and who he assumed had performed the surgery on him pushed his wheelchair along. They went down long passages, each holding cell specially designed to the needs and quirks of those they held. Atsuhiro’s own holding cell was only the basic one; cold, dry, with solid metal plates and a single bed. Because of the neutralizing cuff on his wrist, he wasn’t able to compress himself, and even if he was, there was a second cuff that held his hand at a specific angle and had a cage around it to leave him unable to touch anything. Without his right arm, he’d never be able to get it off on his own. Not unless he pulled some crazy gymnastics, which just weren’t possible with his injuries.

Apparently he was to be getting a slight upgrade to a different wing once his injuries had healed, but they gave a severe estimate of at least six weeks and an incomprehensible amount of physical therapy thereafter—if they deemed that necessary. After all, he was alive, and that’s really all they needed to question him.

Along the way, some of the captured prisoners gave him looks if they were able to look out of the windows on their doors or restrained in tight places facing the hallways for quicker analysis by guards and inspectors. Atsuhiro did not look at any of them.

#MHA #bnha #bnha spoilers #mr compress