#admin: pretend I answered this like a week ago | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

setsugekka · 1 year

Text

『atarashī 』 ; 09—𝐹𝐼𝒩𝒜𝐿

❝ the other side of love ❞ | mlist ｡

student!hongjoong x fem!reader, husband!yeosang x fem!reader — drama, dark romance, mystery, heavy sexual content [6,3k wc] ch cws: smut, the truth, angst, the bad guy doesn't lose i fear.

It's not often that the Akademiya halls find themselves graced by your presence.

Every vibrate of your phone, every receiving of an email or incoming phone call has your stomach in knots even days after you divulging your deepest, ugliest secret to your best friend. Seonghwa swears that he won't tell Yeosang—won't be the one to go behind your back and tell your husband the information that he is deserving of knowing—because it's yours, but it doesn't make the impending stress of it all feel any less suffocating as it hangs on your shoulders.

Nights with Yeosang back home have been quieter; more space created between the two of you since that night approximately a week ago. Home less, or locked away behind closed doors more than he might have usually been. The distance between the two of you feels so much larger than it ever has been. Before, as a result of his career. Now?

As a result of you, most likely.

Hurrying down the halls and towards your destination, you have plans for the early afternoon of today that this particular coming together of colleagues has the potential to impede. Yunho always has picked the worst possible times to ask you to come grab a snack with him, but today especially is doing you no such favors.

You stop in front of the door that brightly hangs his name atop a shiny bronze plaque, knock twice, and are quickly answered to shortly thereafter by the man himself cracking open the door, glancing to see you, and then just as fast ushering you inside and shutting the door behind you once more.

"Long time no see, we don't often meet here," you say, playful.

Yunho doesn't answer though—unlike him, usually just as silly in his banter with you. Instead, he brings himself back around to sit behind his desk, pulls a folder up in his hand and brings your attention to it.

"We should talk."

Equal parts of you know exactly what that is, and the other desperately hoping to pretend that you don't—that you're wrong. Nervousness strikes through you, tingles at your fingers tips as you slowly sit yourself down in one of the large, plush chairs that stand in front of his desk, as if you're a student yourself being reprimanded for one thing or another.

But you don't have it in you to break the ice of this topic. Instead, you wait in silence as Yunho stares you down, something judging but equally compassionate in his gaze towards you; like he knows what you have gotten yourself into, and like you never stood a chance to begin with.

He inhales, long and heavy. "I'm sure you can guess what this is," he says, slowly opening the yellow file and carding through some of the pages. "That student we discussed not too long ago, Kim Hongjoong. It was a bit more difficult than anticipated locating the rest of his sealed files—suspected that he had a pretty close relationship with someone on the admin board back at one of his other schools if he was able to get something of this degree locked behind these kinds of walls."

Something of this degree.

Yunho reaches over to his side, takes his reading glasses between fingers and put them on his face just before looking back up towards you again.

"Wasn't quite expecting this, however."

Silence falls between the two of you then. A part of you—probably the strongest part—doesn't even want to know what it is that your friend has unearthed.

"What has he told you about his stint in Hong Kong?"

You reel at the question, but for two reasons. You ignore the main part of it, the most obvious part, for the thing that underlines it. "Nothing really, why would he tell me anything?"

Yunho glances up at you again, briefly, eyebrow raised.

You continue on. "He just said that it didn't really work out for him, he burnt out and flunked out. Not really anything worth telling I guess."

"Has he ever asked you for anything that may pertain to your status in regards to the Akademiya, Aurelia, or the people that you may know by familial and social association?"

Chest tightening and throat dry, you feel a particular clamminess to your hands that doesn't often find you. Heart beating strong and fast behind your ribcage, but you have no other choice than to attempt to steady yourself—swallow all of these feelings down, quell the tremble in your breath and soon to be your voice.

"No."

It's then that Yunho spins the folder to face you, pushes it across the desk for your reading and sits back against his chair.

"The reason he was removed from the school in Hong Kong was because he was discovered to be engaging in an affair with at least one person on the admin board. I say one because only one admitted to it, but with how tightly sealed his record is in relation to it, my guess is that he ended on good enough terms with someone who was able to lock all of his nasty little secrets away."

You don't really want to see it, and it takes you a good, long while before you're able to collect yourself enough to lean forward and take the papers into your hands.

Yunho continues. "So, I made some calls to that school over the past few weeks to see if I could find out anything else. Of course, it's relatively confidential information in regards to past students so no one really wanted to say much, but I did get a hold of someone who mentioned that one time his computer was confiscated for something wholly unrelated to all of this, his search history was full of names and people. Industry people, mostly women. Women who could probably help him get ahead if he played his cards just right." He shrugs after that. "That's heresy, but it's not exactly difficult to put the very obvious pieces together, if you ask me."

You're different. This is different. What you have, what exists between the two of you, is not at all like whatever this is—whatever this was, has been in the past.

Quickly and with a soft but firm sound, you shut the file. Push it back towards Yunho and away from you, as if its proximity capable of poisoning a truth that you seem so sure of. Yunho's eyes fall upon you instead of the item in question, which you don't like. You don't want to hear this, don't want to be seen in relation to this. Yes, you asked to know, asked to find out, but that was then.

And this is now. None of that matters. None of that carries any relevance to your relationship with Hongjoong now. You catch yourself considering how jealous a woman she must have been to get him expelled for their goings on, but quickly squash that just as fast as it rears its ugly head in your mind.

"Thank you."

Standing, you quickly whirl yourself around and head back towards the door that you've only recently just entered. Yunho allows it, allows you to go without much of a fight, and with a hand on the doorknob you nearly make it free of the prison that his office feels like before he grants you his final words.

"I saw you."

You still, frozen in place as terror creeps up through your bones. No strength to turn and face him, but you can hear him lightly shuffle in his seat as he reaches towards the file across the way.

"A couple of weeks ago, at a cafe down the street—" You know precisely when and where he means, the recent memory of you and Hongjoong giggling in a booth together in public, for anyone to see. "With him. You two appeared...close."

There's nothing to say in response to it. What could you possibly say?

"He's certainly smart, I'll give him that much. You're not technically employed by the Akademiya yet you have everything and probably even more to offer him than someone from the Akademiya would."

"It's not like that," you bite back, cutting. Displeased by the implication of his words.

"It, and what is it, exactly? Your affair?"

The two of you silence, and you crack the door open to leave.

"You need to call this off."

"Or else?"

"It's not a threat," Yunho says, sympathizes in a way that you can hear laden in his tone.

Then don't punish me for it.

You don't wait to find out if there's more, back down the hall and in the direction from which you came prior.

After all, someone is expecting you.

Repeated banging on the wooden door in front of you, seven, eight, nine—it opens relatively calmly halfway through your attempt at the tenth—calm, considering the urgency in which you pound upon it.

Fist stilling in mid-air, you look upon the man standing in front of you; someone that you have grown so fond of in such a short amount of time, a whirlwind romance that has caused you to lose sight of yourself, your morality, the vision that you've always had towards your husband, your marriage, and especially yourself.

Hongjoong leans on the door, cocks his head to the side somewhat expectantly, none surprised by your being there of course but even beyond that, seemingly unbothered by the stress that wears blatantly upon your form.

"You're late," he says, playful in delivery. His hair is messy atop his head, strewn about like he has only just decided to roll out of bed now that you've arrived, and likely anticipating only ending right back there.

You push your way inside with no fight from him, Hongjoong closes the door behind you and you drop your bag in the middle of the floor—pacing a little, back and forth along barely waxed wood flooring that hasn't seen much tender love and care since the man in question has moved in. He watches you as you do, doesn't bother saying anything and likely under the assumption that you very much have something to say to him instead, should he simply wait for it. Not wrong, but how do you go about it? How are you to say it?

"I—" you start, then stop just as quickly.

Hongjoong turns his head slightly, inquisitive. "You?"

But instead of words outright, you rush to close the distance between the two of you. Arms coming up to wrap around his neck, pulling him against you and lips fast and hard finding one another. You can feel the shock laden in his body, though there's no reluctance to be found in the action as he is just as quick to follow through to meet you as he always is—always has been—because he is just as enamored by you as you are for him. Just as obsessed, just as everything. Hongjoong wants you, no, needs you just as urgently as you do him.

And so, you part from his mouth, though only enough to speak against it, still so close that any attempt to look at him renders you crosseyed.

"I'm going to leave my husband," you say with finality. "I want to be with you."

You can feel the switch flip beneath your grasp, the tension in his body at the words as he gently pulls away—creates more space between you where you stand in the middle of his living room.

Hands on your shoulders and quite literally holding you at arms length, Hongjoong inhales with something of a hiss, eyebrows pressing together in thought, in unsureness, certainly not in pleasure.

You feel a little bit as though you're dying at the sight of him like this.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea," he answers, hesitancy deeply embedded in his tone with no room for miscommunication in as much. "I—we never started this thinking that you were going to leave him, that this was going to become something permanent, right? It was just something fun, something for you to do when you're bored and your husband isn't around."

That's not what you've said. That's not what you've implied. The realization of so many things comes crashing down on you like the weight of the ocean, and similarly, you starkly feel the press atop of your chest. Like you're drowning. Suffocating. All of the oxygen having been sucked out of the room in an instant. Just that easy.

"Hey," he says then, reaches out a hand towards yours, pulls you close again so that the other one can lightly press fingertips into the flesh of your neck, your ear. "Don't think about all of that stuff, you came over here for a reason, right?"

Hongjoong's head dips down, warm lips ghosting across your jawline, settling at your neck just below. Your heart still threatens to beat straight out of your chest, fall through and settle on the floor between both of your feet. He doesn't seem to be all too bothered by that fact though.

And with how weak you are rendered by him, even in times like this, suppose neither are you.

Rolling your hips, you sigh out into the open air of his bedroom. Hongjoong's hands sitting tightly settled onto your hip, one on your waist as you grind against him. One tried and true method of forgetting everything else around you that you wish not to acknowledge nor think about—turns out it works even in the case of him, too.

Gazing up at you from below, Hongjoong watches you intently as you work him. Bottom lip pulled up between his teeth and eyes never for a second leaving you, your body, anything about you. Always you, never anything else but you—and still, Yunho's words from earlier set so heavily on your mind in a way that you hadn't quite anticipated them to; the idea that all of this has been so carefully, perfectly orchestrated by Hongjoong, the idea that much of this is a facade.

How much of it has even been real, and since when has it started? Since the first day you met him? Since that evening at the jazz lounge?

Or maybe even before all of that.

How early on in the hunt does a mouse know that it is prey? Perhaps depending on the aptitude of the predator—it never does. Not until it's far, far too late.

Hongjoong pushes his hips up, pulls down down with a perfectly timed grace. Like he knows you're deeply muddled in your thoughts and he's trying to break you out of the trance. It works temporarily, whining and meeting his efforts halfway once you remember where it is that you are, and what it is that you're doing.

"You're in your head," he says, an obvious statement. Hongjoong takes the opportunity to sit up and roll you over so that you lie beneath him instead. Pushes himself back inside with a slow, calculated drive. You wonder if it's part of his plan to always fuck you like this when he feels as though you're getting away from him a bit. Slower, gentler; the deception of love.

You think about the woman back at his school in Hong Kong. The women.

He kisses you, teeth lightly nipping into your lip in just the way that you like—and even still, even now—it brings about the same response. A desire for him, an unbridled want. He's so good at this, whatever this even is, in totality.

"Joong," you whisper against his mouth, he hums in acknowledgment of it. "Do you want to be with me?"

The question is purposeful, and you mean the words that make the sentence up, but even more than that it is a test; a test to see the way that he responds physically. Hongjoong kisses at the corner of your mouth, withdraws only to slowly press his hips forward again—tip to full length. Makes sure that you feel everything, all of him.

It tells you everything.

"The only thing I want is for the both of us to get exactly what it is that we want from the other." A surprisingly honest and thorough reply, all things considered. You can't help but guess that he is catching on to your understanding of things now.

Slipping a hand down and between your bodies, he starts to rub careful circles against you as he fucks you—slightly harder, just a bit faster as if intentionally trying to take you to a place where you're teetering on the edge of release.

And even with the knowledge that you seemingly have, it works. A man that knows you and your body so well, in ways that you've not previously thought possible. Hongjoong has wrapped you tightly around his finger in every possible way, and though you try to bite back the moan that sits strangled in your throat because it's just too easy for him, and perhaps he doesn't even deserve it in the same ways he once has, it's still not enough. Not entirely.

"I know what we both want," he says, airy but sultry as he continues his drives against you. "You, you want a distraction from your utterly boring life. Someone to pay attention to you, someone who makes you feel special, like you're the only one in the whole world."

Your orgasm sits just out of reach, but the words are true and in some ways confirm the suspicion that you've now found yourself contemplating: empty words. A man willing to do and say whatever it is that you want to hear, and you, so pathetic and wanting, thoughtlessly eating it up without a moment of concern. Hongjoong had you in the palm of his hand from the first time he called you his favorite.

Where does that leave him?

When you come, Hongjoong follows shortly thereafter; holds you tightly against him and continues on with the ruse in telling you all of the ways in which you are so special, so perfect, everything to him. When the both of you finish riding the feeling out through each other’s bodies, he brings his face up from the crook of your neck and kisses you deeply and lovingly—just like he always has. As if the walls of the fantasy haven't already come crashing down around you.

"And what I want is to finally catch that big, big break."

Ah.

You lie there beneath him, staring up at the ceiling and through strands of brown hair that don't belong to you. Hongjoong kisses the side of your face, then your jaw once more before pulling himself up and removing himself from your body completely.

"So, this never meant anything to you."

Glancing down to the edge of the bed where he sits, sorting through previously removed clothes, Hongjoong looks back at you from over his shoulder and snorts out a laugh. "Mutually beneficial, has it not been?"

"You lied to get what you wanted from me."

Hongjoong pulls his shirt over his head, lackadaisical. "I gave you exactly what you wanted from me from the start. You wanted me to pay special attention to you, so I did. You wanted me to tell you pretty words that your husband doesn't, so I did. You wanted me to fuck you stupid numerous times a night, make it exciting, an enthralling secret that only the two of us know about...so I did."

You can't help but laugh. Less at him, and more so at yourself. He's not even wrong, and that's the ugliest part about it.

"And you wanted my industry contacts."

He glances back at you again, a beat of silence passing between you before he opts to answer. "I think I more than earned it."

"You're a piece of shit."

Still lying there, Hongjoong stands, pulls his pants up and walks around to the side of the bed—closer to you. Hands you your clothing that he has kindly gathered and extends them nicely.

"All the more reason to be thankful that you're not actually in love with me then."

You snatch them from his grasp, and he makes his way towards the table that holds his glass of water from earlier. Watches you as you dress yourself again, and then the both of your attention drops to your phone as it vibrates with the notification of an incoming call.

It's Seonghwa, and while you're none in the mood to be hearing from him about this, right now, all things considered, it gives you even more of a reason to get out of here—whatever it is that he is requesting from you. Your eyes catch Hongjoong's, and he simply shrugs. None of this matters to him anymore, anyway.

"Yeah."

"Where are you right now? You're not in your office."

You glance up at Hongjoong again who can most definitely hear the man on the other end of the line. He shrugs.

"Why? What's up?" Still can't say it, still can't admit to it even after divulging as much to the man asking.

Seonghwa doesn't reply right away, instead you can hear him engaging in some sort of discussion with another man that appears to be in his presence. Your pulse immediately strengthens, heart leaping into your throat at the thought of who it can be—until a rather distinct verbal tone serves as enough of an indication that it isn't your husband.

It's Yunho.

"Just...can you come down here? There's some stuff that we need to discuss and put to rest once and for all—"

You go to agree, lips parting to speak but before you're able to get anything out, Seonghwa cuts in to give additional instruction for how you are meant to arrive.

"And since I know you're with him... bring Hongjoong."

When the call cuts, Hongjoong puts his glass down and turns on his heel towards the front door—swipes his keys and wallet from the table and begins shoving his feet into chunky black boots.

"Where are you going?" you ask, assuming the worst of him. Assuming an escape.

He looks over to you and down the short hallway.

"Tying up loose ends." He stands, pulling a light jacket down and beginning to shrug it on. "Shall we, then?"

Down the long, carpeted Aurelia halls, students mind themselves along with a handful of staff from the Akademiya meant to oversee the tasks that they are meant to be accomplishing. It feels so disjointed to you, entering the premises like this; less as the groundskeeper of such a place, and more as someone lining up for slaughter at the hands of your best friend and colleague who await your arrival within the confines of your office.

As you make your way, you occasionally and briefly take a glimpse towards the man walking beside you. Hongjoong walks just next to you; hands shoved in pockets and idly gnawing at the inside of his cheek in a way that might suggest a kind of discomfort at what may be waiting for him inside, but to someone who knows him better—to you—you know it to be nothing of the sort. A comical level of blasé, of indifference. Unbothered by the circumstances that have brought him here as a whole.

Because really, why should he? The checkmate has been served, he has already won his hand.

The door is cracked open and waiting for you when the two of you reach it, Seonghwa standing just beside it and peering over once he hears your approach. He pulls it open enough so that you and Hongjoong can slip through, and although your eyes are centered wholly on him, his are instead focused on the man of the hour—the catalyst for your downfall, the method of your treachery.

Inside, Yunho is standing beside your desk with that all too familiar file in hand. Still, Hongjoong is unmoved by it, by the sight of it, despite surely knowing what it is.

Seonghwa locks the four of you inside, and now it feels like a prison. Judging eyes all honing in on you and your grave misdoings. Only one way for this to get any worse, and you're thankful to Seonghwa for that, at least.

"Right then," Yunho starts, clearing his throat and opening the file once more. "I think it's probably best for everyone if we cut straight to the chase."

Yunho is your peer, a colleague of the Akademiya, but in this moment of the time he feels much like an authority figure over you. It's projection, you understand that much; feeling small in the mounting evidence of everything that you've done and everyone that knows about it.

"There are bits of your records that are missing from your file," he says then, questioning. Looking up from it to eye Hongjoong as he stands firmly between you and Seonghwa who appears to be guarding the door. You wonder if he is anticipating a kind of escape from your affair partner. You know him uninterested in doing anything of the sort, perfectly pleased with the outcome of things and no fear of facing the aftermath of them. "Care to elaborate on why that is?"

"Is it necessary?" Hongjoong asks, offering nothing else beyond it.

Yunho sighs, pulls his glasses off from his face and closes the paperwork in hand. "I can hazard a guess. I made a few more calls today to some of the people who handled your expulsion—"

Hongjoong grins, like he's enjoying the verbal chess that he gets to partake in as a result of this. "So, then you know."

"The 'talented college burn-out who can't seem to make it happen for himself' story is certainly a good one, I see it's gotten you far in your endeavors. Getting your permanent record sealed to this degree, getting what you need from other people, avoiding said expulsion altogether."

That makes you reel. With confusion painting your features, you look towards Yunho first—his eyes still glued to the man in question—then to Hongjoong, who takes a moment to meet you at the very least.

"What does that mean?" you ask.

"You weren't really expelled at all, were you?" Yunho says, hardly a question as he cocks his head to the side knowingly. "Rather, you were going to be, but just like you always do, you found a way to leverage that out of the hands of the person intending to cast it down on you."

Silence passes through the room, Yunho cuts through it to speak again. "You always go through life manipulating women to get what you want out of them, or are your efforts best kept in relation to school, and your career?"

Hongjoong laughs at that. "You call it manipulation, I call it equal and fair exchange. Everyone gets what they want, don't they?"

Seonghwa steps forward suddenly, angry in a way that can be seen in every inch of his body.

"You've ruined a marriage, probably ruined lives."

"I've not told her husband, and presumably neither have you. I have no interest in ruining her marriage, or anyone else's. She got what she wanted from me, and I was happy to give it. As many times as she wanted, as often as she wanted. We were all just playing our respective roles."

"We're talking about people’s real lives," Seonghwa says again, another step towards the man in question that dredges up so much rage within him. You've not ever seen him this angry before, and a part of you sits only mildly concerned in relation to Hongjoong's physical well-being. Not that it would be entirely underserved, not that it might not even be somewhat cathartic, too. "You say whatever it is that you have to say, do whatever it is that you have to do to get what you want from the people around you and then have the audacity to call it something akin to equivalent exchange—but you have nothing to lose, now do you?"

Hongjoong shrugs. "We weigh our options everyday in making decisions for ourselves. If you don't take an umbrella out and it ends up raining, whose fault is that? The weather, or yours?" He turns and looks at you then. "If someone knowingly decides to engage in an affair—whose fault is that?"

"The person who took the vows."

This voice—a different voice—comes from the doorway, behind Seonghwa who has since inched further and away from that place. You know it before your eyes settle on the keeper of it, but it doesn't stop you from doing so in the most defeated manner. In some way, and much faster than you ever might have anticipated, it's calming in a sense—to see him standing there, listening, coming into all of this knowledge—because now you are free from the secret.

Now, everything is laid out on the table in front of everyone.

Seonghwa swiftly turns, sees Yeosang and then just as quickly looks to you. There's a sort of compassion in his eyes that you know you aren't deserving of, but is being given to you on account of him caring for you, him being your best friend for so, so many years before now.

Hongjoong doesn't bother replying, his point long since having been made and a quiet understanding among all of you that regardless of how large or little his devious part being played in this has been—he will never admit fault for as much. To Hongjoong, your affair with him is as simple as a kind of bartering system between two people; he gave, and then you gave, and everyone was happy.

Hardly his fault that you are now displeased with the outcome of your own decision making, and for that, you can't even really blame him.

Yeosang steps past Seonghwa, makes his way straight towards you. Ignores your friend, ignores Yunho, and even more shockingly, ignores Hongjoong until he stands himself right in front of you: gaze pointed, judging, full of a kind of hate and resentment that isn't only now beginning its rise, but rather something that has long since been festering and now meeting its spark.

Breath trembling, you slowly reach out for your husband's hand. He allows you to take it into your grasp, though he offers you no reciprocation in the act. Staring. Far from thoughtless, but no words granted to you.

Your resolve crumbles then, a sob choking out loudly into the open air of your office as the people surrounding you watch on. Falling to your knees, you keep hold of Yeosang tightly, the man still willing to give you little more than a disparaging watchfulness.

"How long?" he finally asks, voice firm and plain. You don't have the breath, the capability to answer him, but you're quick to realize that the question is not intended for you when the other half of your betrayal speaks up in your stead.

"Two months or so," Hongjoong replies, hands still lazily shoved into his pockets. "Haven't been keeping count."

"That where you were that night that you didn't come home? Up all night, worried sick, even had your friend lie for you."

"Seonghwa didn't know—" you choke out the best you can. It's the least you can do, not drag him down in your deception like this.

"Spend your days with another man then come home and spend your evenings in bed with me. Did you even love me enough—respect me enough—to use protection?"

You cry harder at that, Hongjoong sucks his teeth at the question before giving the reply that none of you want to hear. "Not once."

Yeosang shakes his hand free of your grip shortly after, takes his leave quietly and without another word. There are no other words spoken within the office where you lie with hands to your face and sobs ripping from your chest. You have no one to blame for this but yourself.

Yunho leaves next, and Seonghwa just thereafter. He offers you a modicum of solace, at least; hand pressing into your shoulder to remind you that he's there, and maybe even that he still cares for you in some way, shape or form. In spite of your flaws. In spite of all of the ways that you have failed everyone that you love. Everyone who has loved you.

Hongjoong leaves last, and his presence above all is suffocatingly felt as he stands in front of you; calm, collected, wholly unconcerned by everything that has just taken place in front of him, and large in part, because of him. It's a last moment shared between the two of you when you finally gather yourself enough to look up at him from where you remain on your knees—through wet eyelashes and stinging red eyes—the two of you meet gazes once more. A reminder of something shared, because really, how could you ever forget?

His lips slowly thin into a line, neither a smile nor a frown, nothing more than an acknowledgement of your being there in front of him. A part of you still feels desperate to have him care for you, because the idea of it never having been real to begin with twists the knife that has long since been carved into you as a result of all of this. Please give me something, please show me that there is tenderness still.

Seconds pass that feel like a lifetime; memories of your time together with him flashing before your eyes like a film reel, someone else's life that you're watching, not your own. Smiles, kisses, touches, words; except it felt so real in the moment, how could it not have been real.

Hongjoong moves from place slightly, stills for another instant as he looks at you—as if thinking about what it is that he wants to do from here on out. You don't know what to expect from him now, because in such a short time you've come to find out that you have never really known him to begin with. A stranger to you, perhaps only now having just met for the first time today.

You watch him carefully, the way a single corner of his lip curves upwards in such a slight way that you think him attempting to fight it back, but unable to. Too pleased with himself, pleased with what he has done.

Victorious in outcome.

When he takes his leave in silence, you're left with nothing else. Hongjoong never offers you any sympathy, nor consolation in the aftermath of a disaster that he had very much been a part of.

Nor does he bother to thank you for everything graciously given to him.

"Can you bring me that box of files, please?"

With the change in weather and the months quickly passing by around the Aurelia Theater, new students come through the halls and make their way in and out of the empty rooms—picking and choosing their favorites, where they wish to spend the most of their time working on their crafts and busying their hands. A man is heart shouting down the way—something about how someone shouldn't be standing on one of the chairs—but you have enough to worry about on your plate, and thankfully, you have help with that.

Said box in hand, Seonghwa pulls around to the side of your desk, plops it on the floor in front of him and straightens himself back up into a standing position, along with feigning the pain of a strained muscle for dramatic effect.

You roll your eyes, seating yourself in your chair and attempting to sort through the immense amount of papers strewn about before you. "You know, you would think by now I'd get all of this shit settled before the new students and staff made their way in for the new semester."

"One would think that, yes. Far from your first rodeo."

"Thanks for coming to help out, by the way. I'll buy dinner tonight, we can go to that expensive place that you like that also sucks."

Seonghwa scoffs. "It doesn't suck, you just don't have a very refined palate. I accept your offer though."

Flicking corners of papers still in search of a particular contract, you rustle through numerous ones and in the flurry of it all, a pen flies from the edge of your desk and onto the floor just beside your feet. You stare at it lying there for far too long—too long for Seonghwa who you're sure wonders what sort of significance this particular item has to you—the sort of thing you can't divulge to him, the sort of thing that is no longer spoken about. Forgotten to the times. Cast out and never to be acknowledged again for as long as the both of you shall live.

You bend down and pick it up, open the desk drawer and shove it inside without a word. Looking up, your eyes meet Seonghwa's somewhat concerned ones, but you take comfort in knowing that he won't dare ask.

"What time should we go?" Changing the subject despite there not really even being one before.

You shrug. "I'm free after four, have to make the rounds with the new students and faculty, sign some more paperwork and then we can meet if you have somewhere to be."

On days like this everything almost feels normal. There are always subtle reminders of the upheaval of your life not long ago, but you're thankful for the forgiveness of your best friend—a man who has always had your back, and even when you're not even really deserving of it.

It doesn't feel as empty as it would otherwise have to, as it probably should. The emptiness resides in your chest, where it feels as though your heart once sat; playing reckless games with people, and never anticipating having met your match.

Sometimes you see him on television, in magazines. You're welcome, you think to yourself as you pass. In those moments, the emptiness on your ring finger sits that much heavier than all of the others.

Equivalent exchange—you made him, and he destroyed you.

a/n: HOI! the end of another big and dramatic story from your neighborhood longfic-infidelity-drama-angst enjoyer! it was a wild ride and i hope yall had fun hehe. some of you guys suspected parts of the ending correctly, here is your retribution! you win [hand shakes] 💗 as always, ask box is open and i look forward to hearing from you :)

#hongjoong smut #hongjoong x y/n #hongjoong x you #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong scenarios #yeosang smut #yeosang x reader #yeosang x y/n #yeosang x you #yeosang imagines #yeosang scenarios #ateez smut #ateez x you #ateez x reader #ateez x y/n #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines

127 notes · View notes

jiminrings · 3 years

Note

bestie what if jungkook finally finds out that jin’s friends with y/n 😭😭😭 he’d live in embarrassment for like eight business days

cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist :D

jungkook wants to crawl in a ditch for bADLY misjudging a situation he should’ve foreseen in the first place

yoongi has never been this dedicated to curing his hangover

well actually, nO ONE was really forcing him to pick you and taehyung up anyway

you didn't even ask!!! you could 10/10 just call for an uber to bring back taehyung to his place

maybe, just maybe, it's your fault that when yoongi asked you where you were when he's just woken up from a long night of partying, you mentioned "i'm with taehyung" and hospital and go home in the same sentence so that's why he went to overdrive

did he process what you said correctly?? probably not <3

that's the whole reason why yoongi had wasted sIX eggs this morning!!

he read somewhere in passing and watched song-hwa from hospital playlist enough to know that drinking eggs apparently helps you with your hangover and some other things

first, he wasted tHREE eggs because apparently, you're not supposed to drink the eggs !!! whisked !!! because it "defeats" the whole purpose

but it's still an egg whether you whisk it and no one's sane enough to drink raw eggs unprovoked

yoongi nailed it on the second try and he might have gagged a few times but the important thing is, his hangover is all-cured from the stress of digesting raw eggs :D so now he can safely drive at a borderline dangerous speed to pick you and tae up

"hey kiddo."

you peer your head up to see yoongi looking down at you, ruffling your hair in greeting

you've been held up here for less than five hours anyway, and it's not that yOU look tired,,, it's just that maybe you could use a little more sleep

lol you got yoongi thinking for a second that you're the injured on

"hey champ," yoongi acknowledges taehyung who's smiling from his bed, getting a forehead flick from his senior to which he rolls his eyes to

taehyung's... dressed up already in his normal clothes?

he already has his shoe on too so yoongi doesn't quite get why the two of you still aren't standing up

"you're lucky you just got a flick," you add helpfully, yawning in remembrance, "he punched my arm when i fell down the stairs at the dorm."

and wHY is this conversation all pointing to him now??

"because the both of you did stupid things that landed you in the ER!"

"i was just trying to see if i can go down the stairs three steps at a time!!"

"i just wanted to embrace y/n!!!"

very stoopid decisions if you ask him

yoongi shifts his weight from one foot to another, still a little lost because he's already here, and the two of you are all-ready to go, and he's not really a fan of the smell of the hospital —

oh wait

"has the bill already been settled?" he asks in curiosity, fishing out his wallet from his pocket

"mhmm. already did," tae answers instantly, nudging yoongi to put his wallet back where it came from

uhm wait maybe it's the eggs that are talking but uh

..... if the bill's already paid-

"then why are we all just sitting here?"

taehyung opens his mouth but he cLOSES it shut the moment it all clicks in his head, belatedly looking at you whose face screams conflict

yoongi's eyes turn to you on instinct, narrowing his eyes because you're choosing not to meet his eyes

"we're uh, we're waiting for jungkook to come back from the restroom."

...

.....

.......

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

yoongi's quiet, almost like he's calculating the variables in his mind

his mind's working harder rn that it did on his finals last week

"so jungkook is here?"

he gets war flashbacks every time he hears his name

he just shudders at the thought of him and he doesn't mean it positively lmao

"y-yeah! did i not tell you that at the call? he helped me get taehyung here," you scratch your nape in explanation, not accounting for the fact that yoongi still vERY much loathes jungkook when you called him

tae's not actually sure if he's helping you when he opens his mouth but he's trying his best <3

"yup! his shoulders were my crutch for like, three blocks. he also bought us food from the cafeteria while we were waiting to have my leg cast!!"

he glances at the fancy paper bags from the cafeteria downstairs, even some take-outs in there that makes it look all-stuffed

how in the living hELL is yoongi suppposed to feel about all of this :|

"i'm back! should i call an uber now? sorry, i bought these tiny hand sanitizers because they were having a sale at the pharmacy. y/n what scent do you-..."

jungkook happily chirps as he rummages through the bag he was given, preparing to scoop all the different scents to present them to you when he jUST had to look down at a familiar pair of shoes

as in the same black converse that he had the relief of looking at when someone was particularly asking him if he ever had a knuckle sandwich

"h-hi yoongi."

yoongi narrows his eyes at the kid who just squeaked, mouth puffed-up in disbelief that he looks like he's hiding a hamster in there

"bye jungkook."

yoongi uses tae as an excuse to shoo jungkook off as fast as possible but that kinda bites him in the ass

taehyung's going through a learning curve with his crutches and yoongi's making him wALK faster!!!! he still needs a little-

oh wait a minute :-)

"jungkook! help me walk to yoongi's car."

there is nO way that even taehyung's conspiring against him now

first jin and now taehyung????

tae solidifies his point by winking at yoongi, leaving you alone with him as you carry the paper bags of cafeteria take-outs

he's not exactly sure if he's helping you out at this situation, but once again, he's just trying his best and having fun alright!!! he likes to be included in these types of things hee-hee

yoongi has no choice now but to aLSO drive jungkook home, and the thought just makes him grumble from thinking about it

he'll have to disinfect his seats ://

"i haven't fully forgiven him if that's what you're thinking about," you chime in with his thoughts, looping your arm around his to help quell the visible stress in his mind

"it's your life," he puffs out because he doesn't want to meddle with you, consciously trying not to be overbearing when it comes to your choices

"i know. i just want you to know that your closest friend has the pride and the brains to not forgive an asshole, a goddamn junior, who said really mean things to her," you add thoughtfully and transparently, making yoongi break into a smile

ok that's got the heaviness in his chest a little lighter

"we should probably talk to each other one of these days."

you haven't had a heart-to-heart talk with yoongi for quite some time now because there weren't really any pressing issues of the sort to make the two of you talk face-to-face, but now it's probably needed

"we should."

jungkook has never feared for his life in a car ride tHIS much before

and he's even wearing his seatbelt!!!!

you're sitting at the front seat and he's with taehyung at the back, the latter dozing off because yoongi indulged his request for sleep music with soft rain on the background (it doesn't make yoongi sleepy) in an attempt to make him feel better about his leg

the one-hour loop's working wonders because you're passed out on the front seat too

normally, this would also make jungkook sleepy

but how the fuck can he sLEEP when yoongi looks at him through the rear-view mirror like an apex predator??????

kook could take the easier route of pretending to sleep so he could get to avoid yoongi's gaze

but then if he pretends to sleep, yoongi would clearly see how his eyeballs are still very much trembling even when his eyes are shut and he's the furthest thing from being relaxed

don't get him started on stoplights too!!! that was just pure torture because jungkook was conflicted to whether or not he should look at him rIGHT back

taehyung and jungkook live in the same building anyway so that's more convenient because he actually wouldn't know how to act if he had to drop j-name (he honestly can't digest saying his name) separately

now that that's all over, jungkook feels oddly fulfilled in a way...?

fulfilled in a sense that even if partially, he managed to earn your forgiveness

he feels like he could sleep a little more peacefully knowing that he atleast did something right this time!!!

which is for the exact reason, he's gonna gUSH about this to mr. kim from student affairs!!!

it's uh the weekend and he walked to campus because he thinks that admin works even on weekends (mad respect)

it's noticeably a lot more empty compared to weekdays and it's just filled with freshmen with their hectic class schedules and some students who are just fulfilling units to graduate early

jungkook walks straight to student affairs and it instantly looks empty, the only familiar face in there being namjoon

as in mr. kim namjoon who's wearing a windbreaker rn and whose hair is dEFINITELY blonde than the last time (two days ago) that jungkook saw him

he's not here to work isn't he

wait is he here to rob the place ???!?#?!?

"and what are you doing here?"

namjoon is as confused as jungkook, his mouth opening and closing in dumbfoundedness

"o-oh! is mr. kim here? w-wait, you are here. i mean mr. kim seokjin, sorry. did he-"

"nope," namjoon shakes his head, putting his bucket hat back on to leave jungkook all by himself

namjoon from work and namjoon every other time besides work are TWO different entities

"we just came here to collect our paychecks. you missed jin by ten minutes."

oh well

his momentum's not entirely ruined!! jungkook just has to cram thinking of a recipe to put in your lunchbox by tomorrow and jin is his tried and tested saving grace

technically, jungkook already saw you this morning because of the whole taehyung in a cast thing, but he feels as if that the take-outs from the cafeteria aren't gonna cut it

he still needs to step up his game of course :D

so that's why jungkook forcibly enlisted jimin's help to make fish and chips for dinner and put them in two lunchboxes

one for you and one for yoongi!! he didn't skimp on the fish nor the chips and made sure they're still toasty and in peak-flavor when he delivers it to your dorm

is he intruding? is this a bad time? he didn't exactly know how to process when yoongi told him that he wouldn't stop him from making it up to you

he just iSN'T sure if delivering homemade lunchboxes at 7 in the evening to your dorm is optimal

oh good!! the door's opening :D

"good evening!! i uhm-"

... what

.......... WHAT

what the fuck is going on

seokjin is suprised to see that the guy at the door isn't from the delivery place he ordered from two minutes ago

... he may be disappointed

but what he is amused about is the way jungkook looks beyond confused and intimidated

jin's in a sleep shirt and some boxers and jungkook doesn't kNOW what to feel about all the variables present that he's trying to connect

"you look like you're hiding a goldfish in your mouth."

seokjin remarks and yawns when a fraction of a minute passes and jungkook's still frozen in his spot, his eyes darting to what the kid's holding

"oh c'mon! one for y/n and one for yoongi? you trying to make it up to him too? and none for me?" jin jives him further, leaning against the doorframe with a sleepy smirk on his lips, "i practically live here, and i gave you the tonkatsu recipe, and i'm the one who doesn't get a lunchbox?"

he eventually saw this coming lmao

jin knew that someway somehow, jungkook would come to know that hE's your close friend throughout the whole time

that he's been the sort of middleman all this time but nah he's on your team of course <3

that all this whining he's done to him has all been in the name of you and seokjin had to sit through ALLLL of that with his fists clenched underneath the table to calm himself down

"oh my god," jungkook's literally WEAK in the knees as it all connects in his mind, the gravity of this scenario kicking down on him

he really iS such a fucking asshole

how did he not hypothesize this????? how wasn't he able to connect you and yoongi and jin as each other's closest friends???

his legs are literally about to give out so that's why seokjin snatches the lunchboxes from his hands

"i am so, so, so sorry mr. kim. i-i really didn't-..."

jin pays him no mind, opening the lunchboxes slightly as he whistles at the sight of fish and chips

meanwhile jungkook is so sO close to crying both in realization and very very slight relief because he knows atleast one of your friends doesn't hate him that much

the door opens wider, the creaking getting both of his and jin's attention

"what's taking you so long? is the-..."

yoongi switches his gaze between the two lunchboxes on jin's hand and jungkook sitting on the floor looking like he's had the shock of his lifetime

wow this is really amusing

this is in fact so amusing that yoongi can't help but to snap a picture for him and jin to laugh at later

"bye, jeon."

yoongi grabs one of the lunchboxes from jin's hand and goes back into the dorm, leaving jungkook alone with mr. student affairs

seokjin chuckles as he outstretches his hand to make jungkook stand up and shoo him off sooner than later so he wouldn't look like a pebble in front of your dorm

he pats him on the back, only having to pull him slightly to get him closer to his ear

"we're still mad at you kid, don't get it twisted. you're lucky i didn't expel you."

jungkook pales at the realization overall, only weakly nodding his head as he attempts to take in everything while trying to look at the bright side

seokjin cheerily closes the door, waving at him who looks so close to passing out from hock

"bye jungkook!!!"

#AHHHHHH WHAT R UR THOUGHTS WHAT DO YOU WANNA SEE NEXT #stem koo #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #jungkook oneshot #jungkook oneshots #jungkook au #jungkook college au #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook headcanon #jungkook series

350 notes · View notes

bus-stop-to-kpop · 3 years

Text

Thanksgiving (ex!Kim Sunwoo x Reader)

Pairing: ex!Kim Sunwoo x gn!Reader

Requested?: No

Genre: angst!!, no happy end, mentions of college

Trigger Warnings!!: cheating, mentions of break up

Summary: When your sister brings home her new boyfriend for thanksgiving to introduce him to the family, he turns out to be a person you never wanted to see again.

Word Count: 1,206

A/N: Admin J here on duty to destroy your happy thanksgiving hehe... No I’m just joking. I wish all of you a happy thanksgiving if you celebrate it. I hope your day is better than Y/N’s. Have fun reading :) -Admin J

"Y/N, you're really coming this year?" "Yes Grandma." You sighed. This was the fourth call you had with your grandma about attending this year's thanksgiving dinner.

Last year you had missed it as your ex had broken up with you, after cheating on you and you were feeling too overwhelmed with heartbreak to deal with your family. He originally told you that he wanted to fully concentrate on his soccer career, so he didn't have time for a relationship.

However you later were informed by Seungjun, one of his teammates, that this wasn't fully true. Apparently during your relationship he had been texting and flirting with some other girl and then he even moved universities to be closer to this girl.

Since you didn't have to see him around campus anymore the pain of your breakup subsided a lot quicker than you had expected i, but you were quite happy about that.

~*~

You arrived home a day earlier than your younger sister and you were informed that she would be introducing her new boyfriend to the family this thanksgiving. "Y/N, when will you ever bring a boyfriend home?" Your aunt questioned on the day of Thanksgiving as you were preparing food. Not to mention she liked your sister a lot better than you, she was her godmother but not yours. You ignored her challenging tone and explained to her that you weren't looking for a relationship at the moment.

"Everyone, quickly come out, Y/S/N and her boyfriend are here!" You heard your grandma call out and everyone instantly made their way to the living room to meet the newest guest.

"Hi everyone, this is Sunwoo. My boyfriend." And that was the exact moment you wished you had skipped out on this thanksgiving dinner again. As your heart shattered into pieces as you were staring directly into the face of your ex boyfriend, Kim Sunwoo, that had dumped you yon Thanksgiving exactly a year ago.

Sunwoo's eyes were wide open in shock and you assumed his face mirrored yours, but it seemed like he was just as surprised to see you there than you were to see him. Could it be he didn't know you and Y/S/N were siblings? No one else seemed to notice the shock on your face as they were swarming around Sunwoo escorting him to the table while asking a ton of questions about his personal life.

What was his favorite Sport? Soccer. What is his favorite color? Purple. How old he is? 21. Born on April 12, 2000. If he had siblings? A younger sister. His Hobbies? Watching movies.

You knew all the answers to their questions and decided you didn't want to hear more so you made your way back to the kitchen to pretend that you were checking on the turkey.

"Y/N, you should go out there and get to know Sunwoo. He's a really nice boy. I'm glad your sister found a nice guy like him." Your grandma scolded you from trying to escape the situation at hand. If she only knew how well you already knew Sunwoo.

Back in the living room your father and Sunwoo were excitedly bonding over soccer as you sat down in your assigned seat on the opposite site of Sunwoo. "How do you know my sister and how long have you been dating?" For everyone at the table the question seemed normal, but Sunwoo gulped, he knew he was busted.

"W-We've met through a dating app... We've been dating for a little over a year." His voice was quiet but since everyone was waiting for his answer it wasn't hard to hear. "A year and three weeks to be precise." Your sister chimed in happily grabbing Sunwoo's hands in hers.

A year and three weeks, once again your heart ached. Three weeks of cheating on you until Sunwoo had decided to call it quits. Three weeks of cheating on you with your sister.

No one seemed to notice the awkward atmosphere between Sunwoo and you, they all went back to happily chatting with each other. You didn't feel like chatting with them so you just listened. Your aunt was talking about her latest divorce, nothing interested, happened once a year.

Your sister didn't seem interested in that topic either as she started to make small talk with you, "Honestly Y/N, it's sad that trashy ex of yours cheated on you. I bet him and Sunwoo would have gotten along well." You couldn't help but chuckle, if she only knew, "Yeah they probably would have gotten along as if they were the same person."

To your luck, your mother called you to the kitchen at that exact moment to help her with the food. "How do you like Sunwoo?" She asked and you rolled your eyes. "You don't like him? I think he's a nice guy. A perfect fit for your sister." Your mother concluded. "That's not it. There's just something about him that gives me a bad vibe." Yeah, the fact that he was your ex.

The rest of the evening went by relatively nice, besides some side marks by your aunt about your unusually quiet behavior. You used every chance you get to be away from the table and Sunwoo, even volunteering to wash all the dishes on your own, so everyone else could stay and listen to Sunwoo talk.

They didn't even notice you slipping away into your room. You had been holding out for a while, but now you couldn't stop the tears from rolling down. For the whole day you had to watch your sister have sweet moments with the guy you had loved with all your heart, the guy that broke your heart, the guy you thought you were over, but clearly weren't.

Of course you were happy for your sister, but why did it have to be Kim Sunwoo?

A knock on your door interrupted your pitiful thoughts. "Y/N are you okay?" You had expected anyone, but not Sunwoo to stick his head through the door. "I'm doing fine. I just absolutely love the fact that my ex boyfriend shows up at my house and reveals that the girl he was cheating on me with is my sister." It was clear you were salty.

"Listen Y/N I'm sorry for what happened with your sister, but if you loved me even a little bit can't you just be happy for me and your sister?" His words broke your heart, "I loved you a lot and you broke my heart! The question is did you love me?" "I had a lot of fun with you, but we just weren't it, you know?" So that's a no.

Without another word you grabbed your jacket from the unused side of the guest bed your parents had provided you with, before storming out of the room leaving Sunwoo there. "Y/N where are you going?" Your mother asked watching you storm into the hallway to put on your shoes. "I'll be away for a little bit, on a walk, I don't know how long, don't stay up to wait for me."

You just couldn't stand to be around Sunwoo for any longer.

#the boyz #the boyz x reader #the boyz sunwoo x reader #the boyz fanfic #the boyz scenario #the boyz imagines #the boyz kpop #kpop fanfiction #kpop x reader #kim sunwoo x reader #tbz #kpop angst #admin j

62 notes · View notes

tetrakys · 4 years

Text

I haven’t commented what is going on with the guides and I feel like I should.

First of all, the problem of people taking content from tumblr and posting it on other platforms is old, you probably remember Lilyr95 pretending to play the game and spreading fake news. Personally I think that when it comes to illustrations and screenshots the art belongs only to Beemoov, so I never bothered to watermark these things. However I’ve seen time and time again other people add their own watermark to things taken directly from my own blog.

To have proof of this we added Lance’s face to Ivan’s bad ending illustration, because to this day I’m still the only person in the fandom who has managed to get bad endings voluntarily I knew that my illustration would end up on all Moonlight Lovers pages, and that’s exactly what happened. Then, even better, the instagram page Ivaniel removed our watermark from the illu and put their own, demanding to be credited by anyone who would use the illustration.

That page was closed but the admin is the same as cdm_ml_juegos who has consistently taken our content and reposted it. I want to be fair and say that they add credit in the comments, same thing the page otome_updates does, but what is the point of adding credits in the comments when they cover our watermark from screenshots (like what they did immediately after Crown posted her screenshots of Ivan’s new good ending) or add their own watermark to our guides? And why... because they used google translate on them? We make our own spanish translations, @neilada-d6-meghah is one of the testers and makes sure to respect the language of the game so that people won’t make mistakes while playing, as it has happened with these other bad translations circulating, this whole situation is pretty disrespectful. These two pages have now agreed to stop doing this and post guides correctly. Fingers crossed.

We know that there several other accounts stealing our guides and all our content, we don’t know all of them, so if you do please let us know. Another one we are aware of is the website Escola de El, I spoke to the admin months ago asking them to stop making their own translations of our guides and publish the ones we make, with our own format. They not only refused but also blocked me and made a whole slanderous post about how I am only looking for fame(?)... simply because I want rightful credit for the group hard work. The whole brazillian fandom must think we are all psychos after what they wrote. To these days they are still using our guides but have also completely stopped crediting us, they credit some wiki pages that also use our guides. That website has ads, how do I know they are not making money out of our guides? It’s an absurd situation.

Also, please wiki pages (Brazil, Spanish, Polish etc), the rule stands for everyone, add the guides on our format to your websites. It’s not a whim, we update these guides, I received DMs from people who lost illus because they were still using Vladimir’s answers from November 2019. Also there were fake guides circulating up until recently. Please repost only in our format with link to either tumblr or facebook.

This whole situation is even worse if we add the fact that Beemoov has increased their release pace like crazy, every week at least one chapter comes out, often enough two. Last week we had 3 Raphael chapters + a terrible bug, it took us hours and hours of work to make the guides, we basically did nothing else in our free time up until sunday. To make an example, it took me around 5 or 6 hours per chapter only to go through all our gameplays and make notes. And the other testers replayed lots of times, more than I did. The moment we posted the guides, minutes later could be found everywhere, in other formats and with barely visible credits at best, or with other people credits at worst.

Honestly, we are burned out and disheartened. We even wanted to make Eldarya guides but if this is the situation I highly doubt it. We will keep playing just for fun among ourselves, if the situation improves and the instagram pages, the wikis, the websites and other socials stop the blatant stealing we will probably make guides again, but until then we are back to playing just for us.

#personal #about the guides

157 notes · View notes

cobradoesmcyt · 4 years

Text

Black Rose (3/4)

Here comes part 3! Filed with “Death, forgiveness and rebirth”!

Bdubs walked into Idea's warehouse at a leisurely pace, Keralis just a few steps behind him. They had just finished a wonderful breakfast, made my Keralis with the help of Grian's big garden, and they couldn’t be any more confident. They'd ask Xisuma now, because if they delayed it nothing good would happen.

Sharing one last look they walked in, happily greeting Xisuma as they entered. They still don't know if the admin was a part of the Grian was like this, but they mostly lived by the "Innocent until proven guilty" thing so they had no reason to not be nice to him.

"Hi guys! Are you ready for today?" Asked Xisuma, a smile hiding under his helmet as he talked to his two friends.

"Actually, can we ask you something before we start?"

X looked at them curiously, but nodded his head non the less.

"Is what Iskall talked about when he went to new Hermitville really true?" Questioned Bdubs, he hoped that his lying skills were good enough to fool the admin, if not they'd be in a lot of trouble moral vise.

"What exactly was he talking about?" Asked Xisuma calmly, if not a bit stiffly.

"Grian, and how he disappeared two weeks ago and something about wither roses." Said Keralis flippantly, pretending that he didn't really care to remember.

"Ah, that," bit out X, fingers tapping together anxiously, "Yes it's true, we still haven't been able to find him."

"You'll find him eventually!" Said Bdubs faux happily, swinging an arm around his friend's shoulder, "Any idea why he ran away though? Maybe we know places he could be if we know his motives?"

Xisuma looked away from the two of them, guilt shining in his eyes. They deserved to know, he just didn't want to admit that he'd failed one of the people on his server so much that they ran away. But with one glance at Bdubs' curious eyes and Keralis' encouraging smile (both of which were actually mostly true, and not fake) he broke, "I don't know exactly why, but from what I've gathered from Iskall and Ren, the two people who have put themselves fully into finding Grian and apologizing, we poked fun at him without checking to make sure he was ok with it. There's a lot more stuff to probably, but that's the thing we are the most sure about."

The two nodded along to what he was saying, knowing that his words were true (you know, since they live with Grian now and all that). "But why did you wait two weeks to start looking?" Asked Keralis, the daunting question finally being asked.

"We didn't know he was missing until two nights ago when Iskall told us at the server meeting."

They hadn't been at that server meeting since Bdubs had been sick and both Grian and Keralis wanted to stay and make sure he recovered without a hitch, which he did. And Bdubs was thankful he hadn't gone, he would have probably punched Iskall if he'd said that in front of him.

Whilst X had been talking Bdubs had been secretly talking to Grian, telling the short man what was being said and how the admin was talking. After that last tidbit of information he sent Grian a text asking "Do you want to see X? Because we can bring him right now if your ok with it, he's really shaken about all of this"

A yes from Grian arrived a few moments later. Now he just had to get X to New Hermitville, which is actually the easiest part yet it seemed, because all they had to do was say that they had something important for him in the village and he followed along.

As they approached the gates Bdubs saw a badge with a wither rose attached to it. He walked over and detached it before quickly jogging back and handing it to Xisuma. The Void looked from the badge to him with confusion.

"You'll understand soon." Winked Bdubs, leading the admin towards Grian's little house which resides at the outskirts of the village.

They walked up to the house, but instead entering the wood building they walked around the house to the back. Xisuma was confused as to what could possibly be at the back, what was it that they even had to show him? Just as he was about to ask he turned the corner and froze.

They had just entered a garden filled with yellow, pink and blue flowers, there was also two cats and a dog resting on a grass patch near the back door. But that wasn't what made him freeze, it was instead the person in said garden.

Grian stood facing them, a small unsure smile on his face. He was gently holding a spring crocus in his hands, "Hi X."

"Grian?" Breathed the admin in shock, "You've been here all this time? And what happened to your face, and clothes too?"

"Sit down Xisuma, we have a lot to talk about."

And so Grian explained everything to him, about his feelings, the Hermit’s actions and his time with Bdubs and Keralis. By the end X wanted nothing more than to hug the small man in front of him, "Oh god Grian, we didn't realize. God-I'm so sorry!"

The violet eyed man observed the admin for a while, eyes narrowed in thought. He eventually gave a nod and walked up and gave the flower in his hands to Xisuma, "This is my answer."

X took the flower gently, not wanting to harm it and get Grian mad at him, "Uh, not to be rude-but how is this your answer?"

The dirty blond giggled at the question, "It's a spring crocus. It isn't just a pretty flower, it has a meaning. That meaning is my answer to your requests for forgiveness."

Xisuma seemed to hold the white and purple even more gently in his arms at that, as if it was the most precious thing in the universe. And at this moment, that was kind of true.

He looked up at Grian with thankful eyes, hoping that his expression could be seen through his visor, "Thank you. Is it ok if I come back tomorrow? That should give me enough time to look up the meaning of it."

"You can," said Grian, giving the admin a small smile, "It was good to see you X, have a good day." And then he walked back into his house, dog and cats following him back in.

Bdubs patted his admin friend on the back, "Was this important enough?" X could do nothing more than nod, unable to form words, "Good. Now do you want to go back and have the meeting, or do you want to look into the flower immediately?"

"I think we can skip a meeting." Said the helmet wearing Hermit, eyes not leaving the flower in his hands. He was about to walk away when he remembered the badge he was given, he took it out and showed it to the other two Idea members, "Hey, what's with this?"

Bdubs didn't even have to look to know what he was talking about, "It's Grian's crest. He chose it because what was cooler to have as a symbol then the thing that almost was your demise?"

Xisuma clutched the badge in his hand, the black painted metal heavy in his hand with meaning. He left for his base soon after that.

As soon as he left Keralis and Bdubs walked into Grian's house. Said man was sitting at the table, playing with the same badge that Xisuma now has. He put down the metal object once they got in and offered the two a smile.

"I'm curious, what did that flower mean?" Asked Keralis, arms crossed over the table.

"It represents our heart or soul, which blooms when someone we love forgives us. This is me forgiving him, because he hasn't done anything to me directly except forget to ask if I was ok with the few jokes he made." Answered Grian softly, fingers moving to trace the petals of the lotus flower in the bowl of water on the table.

"That's nice. Is he the only one who's forgiven? Or is there anyone else who also is?"

Grian continued to gently caress the pastel pink petals of the lotus as he answered Keralis, "Ren is also forgiven, he never made a lot of the jokes. Python and TFC are also forgiven, but I'm not as close to those two as I am with Re."

"Re?" Asked Bdubs with an eyebrow raised, smile playing at his lips.

"It's a little joke between me and Ren," smiled Grian, "He's Re and I'm Ri, I don't know why it stuck, but it did."

"Oh, that's so sweet!" Cooed Bdubs, the rave head grinning all the while, "So how are you telling the other four?"

The dirty blond stopped tracing the petals, his hand instead moving to tap on the polished wood of the spruce table, "I'll send letters to TFC and Python, with flowers included of course. And I'll invite Ren down here to talk."

"Sounds like a great idea!" Grinned Bdubs, "Now can you come help me pick out some new flowers for the castle? It's looking a bit too copper and white for me."

"Sure!" Chirped the dirty blond florist, "Just tell me what you feel you're looking for and I'll give you what you need!"

And like that everything went back to normal. Of course nothing was ever normal here, but the peace was back at least. And soon would many friendships also be back, or at least be on the mend.

#hermitship #hermitshipping #grian x bdubs x keralis #grian #keralis #bdubs #xisumavoid #black rose AU

39 notes · View notes

hedwigstalons · 4 years

Text

High Expectations - Ch18

Short fic? Really? How the hell have we reached chapter 18 already?

@willow-salix has been a huge support all the way through. She wields the red pen mightily

Earlier parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen

AO3 chapter link

Chapter Eighteen

John closed the apartment door and basked in the silence. The last few weeks had been awful but the last few days had been hellish. If you had asked him two days ago what had been the hardest part of this summer he would have answered without hesitation his thesis defence interview, not because he had any difficulty with his project but because, even after 4 years at Harvard some of the faculty still struggled with his presence.

He had bounced onto the quad aged sixteen, looking more like twelve, and instantly made a name for himself by criticising the work of one of the more well respected professors on campus. It probably hadn’t helped that he had been right. Since then he had been dogged by whispers of ‘Daddy’s money’ or heckled as an android freak as he eschewed the company of the peers that would never truly be peers due to the gaps in both age and intellect. University had been a bittersweet mix of unbridled access to learning mixed with a social web to navigate that made high school look like an insignificant warm up. The culmination of it all had been his thesis defence in front of a panel who didn’t know whether to be intimidated by him or offer him a cookie for being a good boy. Still, he was walking away from it all, with dual honours and a postgraduate distinction, at an age not dissimilar from those just starting their higher education journey.

The troubles and torments of university, however, had nothing on the hell on Earth that was Boston airport for an extended period of time. He could now categorically say that this had been the worst part of the summer. The route between east and west coast seemed to be plagued by delays but this, his final time of making the journey, had topped the lot. Being held up for an unspecified period of time in an airport lounge had brought out the worst in humanity and after a delay that had pushed past 36 hours in the end he would be quite happy to never see another human ever again. With the apartment door firmly shut on the outside world he fully intended to recharge and bask in the solitude before Alan got home from school.

He padded up the hallway to deposit the travel bag containing a few meagre essentials in his room but never made it that far.

The apartment might have been silent but it wasn’t empty. His room was next to Alan’s and through the open door he could see that self same teenager sat cross legged on the bed, head set on, controller in hand and eyes glued to the screen that flashed with neon laser cannons and moved at a dizzying pace. Part of him wanted to tiptoe on past, pretend he hadn’t spotted his younger brother, and collapse onto his own bed. John could have sworn that he hadn’t done anything that could penetrate the teenager’s electronic cocoon but before he had crossed the doorway Alan’s head whipped round and fixed him with an intense blue stare.

Alan paused the game, dropped the controller next to him and slid off the headset. He continued to stare in a way that he could see was making his older brother uncomfortable, holding the eye contact that always made John squirm a little, but at this point he didn’t care.

The weeks before Gordon’s departure had been busy. With a fixed deadline firmly etched on the calendar Jeff had ramped up the pressure on Gordon to gain his pilot’s licence and all the myriad of special endorsements he would need beyond the basics in order to complete a cross-continental journey solo. Alan wasn’t quite sure why such a high rated licence was necessary but he had appreciated all the extra time at the airfield it necessitated. Almost every weekend had been spent there so that Gordon could get in the required practice and he had always tagged along, partly to spend more time with Gordon and partly in the hope of getting a lesson himself; it turned out flying was something he had a flair for and he relished those precious moments in the cockpit. But then Gordon had gained his licence and the lessons had dried up. Time in the sky went from being a priority to something his father was too busy to provide. It rankled that he wasn’t worth the effort.

And then the dreaded day had come. The day he lost the brother he was closest to to the military might of WASP. He’d probably come across as petulant and moody, his goodbyes stilted and brief, but the sullen exterior had been his armour protecting him from breaking as something inside him died. He hadn’t even been able to go with Gordon on the trip up the coast as had been the original plan. A last minute change had seen their father disappear off on some mysterious overseas errand, leaving Virgil to play taxi service to the WASP to be. He had begged to go too but unfortunately for him the start date for Gordon had coincided with Scott having some leave and Virgil was staying up north to indulge in some oldest brother bonding time. So he had been left behind, alone in the apartment, with the promise that John would have arrived by morning.

Morning had dawned but the promised sibling hadn’t appeared. The logical side of him knew there would be a perfectly rational explanation for John’s delay but the emotional side of him just added it to the heap of rejection he was feeling. No one gave a damn about him. Noone cared what he was doing. He’d turned right around and headed back into his room to kill zombies. When the second morning dawned and he was still alone the only difference it made was that the zombies were replaced by asteroids.

John was pinned uncomfortably by the stare. Everything about Alan screamed out that he was issuing a challenge, daring John to pass comment. If he had ignored John’s presence he probably would have been left alone but John was a Tracy too and as with all Tracys he never could resist a challenge.

“No school today?” he queried, one eyebrow raised in preemptive skepticism.

“Does it look like it?”

“What it looks like is you playing video games on a Tuesday in term time. The news didn’t mention any schools being flattened by freak hurricanes so why are you here?”

Alan just shrugged and went to pick up his controller again.

“Alan!”

“What?! It’s not like there’s any point me being there.”

“There is always a point to school.”

“Yeah? Well I’m not learning anything there, the stuff they set is just insulting.”

This was one point John could empathise with, boredom in the classroom was a familiar feeling to him. He felt lucky that he had met forward thinking teachers early on in his school career. Teachers that had put the effort in to find out his level rather than being happy to have a coasting child in the class that didn’t need their assistance. The result had seen him progressing through grade school at a pace that, while it still felt slow to him, at least meant he wasn’t inflicted with the full, tortuous twelve years. Alan on the other hand had been forced to stay firmly in his age grade.

“What about your friends, surely you’re bored here without them?”

That just earned him an eye roll.

“Can we just skip the questions and head straight to the part where you lecture me.”

“Would it make a difference? I’m not Dad but you do realise he is going to be majorly pissed when he finds out, don’t you?”

“He’ll only find out if you tell him.”

“You think he won’t find out from school?”

Alan just sighed.

“Seriously Johnny, Gordon and I got all comms from school diverted directly to us years ago. I’ve already responded to their email.”

“You and Gordon did that?” He was secretly a little impressed that his brothers had found a way to bypass the school systems although he was concerned that their father had seemingly never noticed.

“Well, okay, I did that. Gordon’s not so hot on the technical stuff but it was his idea. Dad’s never been that great at dealing with letters and permission slips so I just got in through a school admin account and updated the contact details. If it’s not a report card he isn’t interested.”

John decided not to pass comment on the low level hacking his baby brother had pulled off. Instead he picked his way across the minefield that was Alan’s floor to join his little brother on the bed. The mattress felt deliciously soft compared to the plastic seat upon which he had been forced to spend the night and he felt his bones sigh in relief. His own bed was still calling out to him but his big brother instincts were screaming at him to fix things, even if he wasn’t entirely sure what he needed to fix. The screaming won. He leaned across to grab a second controller off the cluttered bedside unit and synced it into the game.

“So, what’re we playing? I don’t recognise this one but then there wasn’t much time for gaming at Harvard.”

Alan looked bemused by the turn of events. Scott held an authority that demanded respect, Virgil would take a softer and more caring approach, Gordon provided a mix of straight talking and fun whereas their father subscribed to the school of parenting that was mostly indifferent until an indiscretion was unearthed. John was still a bit of an unknown entity, he’d never taken on the role of authority figure for Alan and he couldn’t work out his brother’s strategy.

“Uh, it’s something I made myself.” Alan disconnected his headset and the background music of the pause screen sounded out harshly in the otherwise quiet apartment eliciting an involuntary wince from John. He guiltily turned the volume down to a more comfortable level before resuming play.

They sat side by side in silence for a few minutes, blasting asteroids and navigating their way through a fast moving debris field. The game concept appeared simple and John wondered why Alan had done it; it wasn’t like he couldn’t afford to stock up on the commercially available games.

“Games design is a new one for you, this a school project or something?”

John sensed the eye roll even without taking his own eyes off the screen.

“Hardly. School sucks.”

“So, why make the game?”

“It’s not about the game. I wanted to see if I could model a debris field. Thought if I could get it right it could be good training, you know, before astronaut school.”

“I think you’ll find Tracy College already has their own simulators. How do you even know this is accurate.” Alan had made no secret about his desire to head into space and it looked like that was still the life plan. Part of John hoped the game wasn’t accurate, the objects were flying in thick and fast and he was struggling to react in time to find a clear path for his craft and guide it through. Alan, on the other hand, was having no such difficulties; his movements were lightening fast and the game seemed to hold no challenge for him.

“Borrowed your books.” Alan set his own controller down as John’s ship took a direct hit and exploded in a mass of technicolour pixels that ended the game. He stretched out and plucked a weighty tome off the edge of his desk.

“Borrowed? I don’t remember you asking.” John recognised the volume as one of the few undergraduate text books he had investing in the hard copy of. Slips of coloured paper stuck out at intervals and the pages were rather more worn and well thumbed than he remembered.

Alan pointedly ignored the question and instead flipped through to the relevant pages.

“I’m not sure if I got this bit right though. I struggled to combine the effect of an explosion induced debris field interacting with a meteor shower.”

However John had been expecting his talk to go with Alan, it hadn’t been like this. He soon found himself drawn into an animated discussion of the core principles of astrophysics and how material behaved in a vacuum. Alan’s grasp of the subject, considering he was entirely self taught, surprised the elder Tracy. On his rare visits home Alan had always pestered him to go star gazing or asked him his thoughts on the latest developments in astronaut training but he’d had no idea that Alan’s interest had extended into him seemingly attempting to study most of the first year of his Harvard course from home. No wonder the kid was bored at school.

When Jeff returned later that night it was to find the two boys deeply engrossed in some project or other. Books and piles of scribbled notes lay scattered around them and John’s fingers danced through lines of holographic code as he pointed out some facet or other to the younger boy who seemed to hang on his every word. He assumed John was helping Alan with his homework and thought no more of it as he settled down to his own evening.

xoxoxox

“Mr Tracy, a Miss West is on the line for you.”

Jeff frowned at the unexpected intrusion from his personal assistant. “Miss West?” He couldn’t place the name.

“She says she is calling from the High School, Sir”

“Put her through then.” He paused a moment until the slight click indicating a change in caller reached his ears.

“Mr Tracy? I’m Sarah West, Alan’s home room teacher.” The woman on the other end of the call sounded slightly nervous and with good reason, the Tracy reputation was formidable and seeing Alan’s name on her class list when he had joined the school had led to rounds of commiserations in the faculty lounge.

“Miss West, what can I do for you?” He tried to keep the puzzlement out of his voice. The last time he had received a call from the school, or any kind of communication now he came to think about it, had been over Gordon’s suspension. He hoped he was not in for a repeat of that embarrassing incident.

“I just wanted to check on how Alan was doing. The class are all missing him and hope he is able to return to school soon.”

Jeff understood the words being spoken but the actual sentiments made no sense. As far as he was concerned Alan was at school at that very moment. He kept his voice carefully neutral.

“I thank you for your concern Miss West. I will certainly pass on your regards when I see Alan this evening.”

“Thank you Mr Tracy. Please accept my best wishes for you and all your family, it can be so hard when these things happen. Please keep me informed of his progress through the parent portal and once Alan is well enough to come back we will look at putting a catch up and transition programme in place for him. Alan is a bright boy and I have every confidence that he will be able to catch up with these missed weeks.”

“Thank you Miss West. I will of course keep you informed. Now if you will excuse me.”

“Of course Mr Tracy, goodbye.”

“Goodbye Miss West.”

Missed weeks. The words rang out in his head, causing him to rub his temples. Trouble at school had always been Gordon’s domain, he’d been gone for months but still his influence was being felt. Alan had always taken after John until now; good grades, generally studious and with a passion for space. Whatever was going on Jeff knew he needed to nip it in the bud. Pausing only to inform his PA that he would be heading out for lunch and might not return that day Jeff headed back to the apartment.

Jeff found Alan in his room, engrossed in some project or other. He rapped smartly on the doorframe, breaking the teen’s concentration and causing him to look round in surprise. The look Jeff was treated to wasn’t one of fear or remorse though and there was certainly no sign of guilt at being caught where he shouldn’t.

“Alan, my study. Now!” He strode off down the hallway without waiting for a response.

Alan sighed and followed, knowing that to ignore a direct command would be foolish. By the time he reached the study Jeff was already behind the desk in his customary position for dispensing judgement, a situation Alan had rarely been in but had certainly heard about often enough from Gordon. He was more than a little intimidated at the prospect of what was to come but he tried not to let it show as he stood there, ramrod straight, waiting for his father to make the opening move.

“So Alan, I had an interesting call from Miss West today. Explain yourself”

The words caused Alan’s stomach to drop, there was no way he could pass today off as an isolated incident now. He had been signing off on his absences via the parent portal but if his teacher had actually called up then it was likely his father knew everything. Not knowing what to do for the best he opted to say nothing. The silence stretched out uncomfortably as he felt himself being appraised by eyes as hard as flint.

“I see. Let’s keep this simple. How long have you been skipping school for?”

“Since the beginning of the semester.” There was no point lying about it now. After his few days of indiscretion when Gordon first headed off to WASP John had made sure he went off to school each day. At the end of the summer holidays though, with John and Virgil departed for Tracy College, there was no one to force the issue. September had arrived and with it the start of a new school year but among the faces arriving for a fresh round of learning Alan’s had been notably absent.

“Why? Your teacher seems to be under the impression you are unwell. Are you unwell?” The skeptical lilt to the voice and raised eyebrow would have made even John proud.

“No.”

“So why are you risking failing high school?”

“Failing it?” Alan snorted “School’s boring. I’d be able to get my diploma now if they’d just stick me in the right classes, then I could be done with the place.”

“And what makes you think you could complete your diploma now if you won’t attend class”

“John did.” Alan’s chin jutted out in defiance and Jeff was given a sudden and uncomfortable reminder of another son who had found school far too easy. The arguments may have had a different focus but Alan wouldn't be the first Tracy to have found the system too limiting, the difference being that John had been fast tracked before the boredom got too much. “I’m not learning anything at school. It’s not like I’m just flunking out though, John’s been sending me some stuff through that’s far more interesting.”

“That’s as maybe but did John tell you to just ditch classes? I seem to remember him maintaining an exemplary attendance record”

For the first time Alan felt a wave of guilt, the weight of it causing him to bow his head in shame. John may have agreed with him that the school work he was being set was far too easy and been coaching him on more challenging topics to feed his thirst for knowledge on all things astronomical, but his brother would never have condoned him skipping class. He was not going to let John take any of the blame for his choices.

“No, Sir.”

“I see.”

Alan wasn’t quite sure what it was his father saw as he stood there being appraised like some interesting specimen. There was another drawn out silence. He could almost hear his father’s thoughts as he considered his next move.

“Show me.” Alan’s head jerked up in confusion. “Persuade me. A key skill you would learn in school, if you were there, is how to present a well balanced and constructed argument. Prove your case. I’ll be here waiting.”

Alan had been expecting some sort of reprimand, either a bawling out or a quietly pronounced punishment. So far he had received neither and he was feeling a little on the back foot but then his father had a flair for the unexpected, it’s what made him a formidable adversary in the boardroom. He retreated to his room to think upon the challenge. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to prove, didn’t have a clue what his argument was or what he wanted to achieve but he knew he had better come up with a plan fast. It felt like he was being offered a lifeline of some sort but a lifeline that had the potential to cut you down if grasped in the wrong way.

He retreated into his room and sat down at the desk, the detritus of his latest project from John scattered in front of him where he had abandoned it at his father’s command. What did he want? He knew he didn’t want to go back into that hell-pit high school, each day of drudgery just sapped the life out of him, but how could he prove to his father that school was only holding him back? He gazed unseeingly as the scribbled formulae he had been working on, all the time conscious that his father wouldn’t wait forever.

Those same formulae presented him with his answer. His father had always been focussed on results, getting the most efficient return on his investment and abhorred anything he viewed as a waste of time. Alan knew that if he could prove beyond doubt that attending school was just wasting precious learning time then he might never have to go back. He started gathering together the work he had been doing for John as evidence that he really didn’t need to sit through another hour of basic trigonometry when he was already able to apply it to complex problems.

Jeff sat back and waited. He couldn’t predict Alan’s next move but then he realised he didn’t really know Alan at all. All the way through the young boy’s life his care had fallen to others. Others had formed him and moulded him and evidently turned Alan into someone capable of missing several weeks of school under his nose without him realising. Those influences had all been evident during their short exchange. He had witnessed Gordon’s defiance and determination, John’s intellect and Virgil’s sense of justice. Even traces of Scott were evident in the set of Alan’s jaw and the way he held his shoulders despite Scott only really being present for half of Alan’s short life. How telling that a brother absent some eight years held more influence than he did as father. If there was one thing common to all his sons though it was the ability to rise to a challenge; the afternoon had the potential to be surprising.

Jeff never made it back to the office. He couldn’t remember the last time he had had a meaningful and in depth discussion with his youngest son. His conversations with Alan were normally limited to a few perfunctory exchanges in the evening and maybe a goodbye if Alan was up before he headed to the office. Over the course of the afternoon he got more insights into Alan than any mere report card could give. For a start those bland documents could only show that Alan had met the maximum expected standard for his class, behind the lists of grades his son’s true abilities had been hidden.

Alan might have been skipping school but he hadn’t been squandering his time. Jeff was treated to comparisons of the high school math curriculum compared to the problems John had been setting, ostensibly as a way of Alan bolstering a future college application as the middle Tracy had been unaware that the youngest had abandoned his traditional studies completely. Physics, coding and a raft of other topics handy for the modern astronaut similarly followed and it became clear that Alan was willing to put the effort in on the topics that interested him.

Once Alan had finished lambasting the Californian education system he turned hopeful eyes on his father.

“So, can I quit?”

If there was one thing that Jeff agreed on it was that the current curriculum being inflicted on Alan was uninspiring and certainly not challenging for the youngster. He was also conscious that his lawyers had not managed to secure the removal of their family tragedy from the text books in time for this academic year and therefore Alan would be subjected to the same ordeal as Gordon in just a few short months time if he stayed in the classroom. However, he also knew that without a high school diploma Alan would be unlikely to be able to access the higher education he needed to turn his dreams of space into a reality; he knew this from his own path to the stars.

“No.”

“But Dad…”

“No Alan, I will not have any son of mine walking away from education without a high school diploma. If you are at all serious about becoming an astronaut then you need to play by the rules, without a diploma you would be ineligible for any of the space programmes out there.”

Jeff watched the disappointment flood his son’s features and wondered if Alan had really been paying attention to his words and whether he would spot the loophole in his pronouncement. He waited as Alan put together his next move, he could almost see the thoughts as they played out. Alan always had been the son to wear his emotions closest to the surface.

“I just have to get my diploma, right?” There was a hesitancy as a glimmer of hope was seized on.

“That’s right.”

“But there are other ways of getting my diploma, not just in school. Right?”

“Potentially. So what do you want to do?”

“Can I...can I do homeschool? I’m sure we’ve got everything I need to join an online programme and then just get it done.”

Jeff paused as though contemplating the request. Really, having Alan homeschooled would be better for both of them; Alan could learn at his own pace and he would find it easier to have oversight of his son’s progress and commitment.

“You have until the end of the week to find a suitable programme otherwise I will march you straight back to the classroom myself on Monday morning. I know you don’t see the point of half the subjects you have to take but they are important, your diploma is important, even if it’s only as a paper steppingstone to better things.” Jeff found himself on the receiving end of one of Alan’s grins and realised sadly that he hadn’t seen one of those since their last flying lesson. “Now, don’t you have some research to do?”

Alan took the hint and headed out of the study with far more bounce than he’d had when entering it. Jeff had no concerns about delegating the task to his son, the similarities to John had been clear to see and he had every faith that Alan would find a suitable programme within the allotted time frame. The fact that the change to homeschooling came with the added bonus of one less loose end to tie up when the time came to relocate was not lost on him.

#High Expectations #thunderbirds #Thunderbirds fanfiction #Jeff Tracy #Alan Tracy #John Tracy #space brothers getting their own way

13 notes · View notes

in-class-daydreams · 4 years

Text

:000 Offends me?? For wanting to read my writing??? Anon, I adore you, you’re so sweet and I appreciate you being considerate of me <3 Thank you for the sweet ask and just for you, I will post a snippet of the first draft of Neo!Blue Star that I’m trying out!

Love,

Admin Mango-Chan

(Reposting this bc tumblr hates me and refuses to let me format my posts dammit)

NEW! Blue Star Sneak Peek under the cut!

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x Reader

Chapters: [In Progress]

Genres: Fluff, angst, sexual implications/content

Warnings: None in this snippet

Summary: After a physically and emotionally traumatizing fall during Nationals in your first year of high school, you’ve decided that you hate volleyball now. You transfer to Seijoh High and apparently you’re an anime protagonist, because even when you want to keep your head down, drama seeks you out. You meet an avid fanboy of yours, come across an old friend, and apparently your childhood crush is stupidly hot now, so finishing high school is looking to be a lot harder than you thought.

That morning, I noticed someone staring at me, but I figured I was just being paranoid. I felt eyes on me again on my way back to the classroom. New kids get stares, sure but this dude’s gaze was locked on me.

He was a bit on the taller side with glasses and a ash brown undercut. Even with the glare from his glasses, I felt the intensity of his stare. His stare cut across the hall from his place leaning by the window, surrounded by a couple other students I assumed were friends of his. Despite their presence, his sole attention was on me, and I felt him looking at me all the way up until I got back to class.

‘Well, that was super creepy,’ I thought, but I ignored the uneasy feeling and opened my notebook to start class again.

Not a whole lot happened that first week of school. I went to class, that weird guy stared at me during breaks, then I went home. People stayed away from me and I kept my distance from them. It was the perfect setup. I did as much homework as I had the energy to do, and on my worse days, Wakatoshi came over to hang out and help me through the rest of it.

Nothing interesting happened until the following Tuesday, after I’d stayed behind after school to talk to an advisor. That was when I ran into that creepy weirdo in the stairwell after school.

“Oh, it’s you! Hi!” He grabs my hand in both of his. I immediately yank it back, but he doesn’t seem to care. Instead of replying, I just stare at him. He takes a step forward, ending up even deeper in my precious personal space.

“I’m Itoi Justin! I can’t tell you how excited I am to meet you!”

I lean back and eye him warily, getting a pretty good idea of where this conversation was headed.

“Uh, okay,” I say dumbly.

This Itoi is apparently perfectly content with having a one-sided conversation.

“I’ve been following your career since forever! I was so sad when you disappeared after your injury, and to think I’d meet you here of all places! It’s just-- I mean--!”

The guy is absolutely breathless in excitement, and it’s getting super uncomfortable.

“Look,” my nails scrape at the inside of my bracelet, “I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m not her.”

I sidestep him to make for the exit, but he gets in front of me. Once again, he’s way too close.

“No!” He shakes his head so hard I’m worried his glasses are gonna fly off, “I’d know you anywhere! You’re her, you’re the Blue Star!”

Blue Star. Huh. I haven’t genuinely been called that in a long time.

“You used to be-- Hey, are you okay? I’m not gonna bite you, y’know.”

I glare up at him. He seems to shrink back a bit even though he’s almost a head taller than me.

“Well, I’m in an empty stairwell with some guy I don’t know who likes getting up in my personal space,” I poke a finger into his shoulder and he steps back willingly, “And he’s bringing up old shit that I moved here to avoid, so I can’t say I’m having a great time right now.”

Itoi visibly deflates. Even his glasses seem to slide down his nose a little bit in disappointment. He looks so sad that I feel kinda bad for being mean to him, even though I’m like this to everyone.

“Oh, I, uh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he says quietly. He shifts in his spot like he wants to stay, but is having second thoughts.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say, shoving my hands into the pocket of the hoodie I’m wearing under my uniform blazer. I brush past him, fully intending to make a hasty exit, but I can’t seem to get myself to leave. Cursing myself, I turn back around.

“Fine, Ichi--”

“Itoi.”

“--you come on a little strong, but I appreciate that you were my fan at some point.”

I take a labored seat on the stairs and try my best not to manspread in a skirt. Resting my elbows on my thighs I look back up at him.

‘Mm, he’s pretty cute,’ I think to myself.

It seems like all the life came back to him with that one sentence pseudo-apology. His eyes are shining with delight and he takes a seat next to me. He acknowledges my need for space, as he slides away from me to the other side of the stair.

“My father’s a journalist for the same publisher as Volleyball Monthly. He took me to one of your games for an article of his and I’ve been a fan ever since,” he tells me. “Even after my dad transferred to a different magazine, I kept following your career online.”

I make a face like I drank rotten milk, “Why?”

Itoi turns to me. For the first time, his face is missing the overwhelming excitement and it’s replaced by gentle, but passionate, admiration.

He grins, “I wondered that myself. I thought it was weird how interested I was in some random city girl’s volleyball career.”

“It is pretty weird,” I say.

The brunette huffs a laugh at my comment, “Maybe, but… I don’t know. It’s like when I saw you play, you weren’t just playing the game. It seemed like the game flowed through you. Your game came as naturally to you as breathing, and I could understand how you got your nickname. I never saw someone shine so bright.”

Even while my nails are nervously dragging against the engraving, I resist my desire to flee. Of course I’d been praised before, but never so openly and so, I guess, genuinely. My heart is stuttering in my chest in embarrassment, and I can’t seem to keep my voice stable.

“I-- Uh, thanks,” I grunt.

Itoi leans in further, “But I confess, I came to talk to you for a reason.”

“You came to murder me horribly.”

“Sadly, no.”

“Darn.”

The boy giggles. He looks forward and seems to stare off into space. “So, after I saw you and how electric you were playing volleyball, I tried to learn to play myself.”

“And how’d that go?”

“Terribly. I have the athletic skills of soft tofu.”

The corners of my mouth lift slightly.

“Once I realized I’d never be good at volleyball ever, I became a manager of the boys’ team in my first year. I’m better at the thinking and the analyzing, y’know?”

“We’re really playing into that glasses character stereotype, aren’t we?” I quip.

“You bet we are. The thing is, there’s a certain level of thinking to the game that requires experience on the court. I can’t provide that, but--” his intensity is back up and his eyes are boring into my soul, “You can.”

I pause, taking in everything he’s saying. The implication of what he’s asking washes over me like a hurricane.

“No.”

“Hear me out--!”

“No way!”

I stand up and stomp towards the exit.

“You need to join a club anyway!” He says desperately. Itoi gets up to follow me.

I reply without turning around, “I don’t care.”

“Don’t you want to be involved with volleyball again?” he asks.

My jaw clenches almost painfully. He takes me by the arm, and rather than slap him silly, I say nothing, and he continues.

“You used to love it. I can’t pretend to know what you’ve been going through, but I can’t imagine you want to abandon it completely,” he says desperately.

His tone makes my chest hurt for some reason. Right now, he’s annoying the crap out of me. He met me today. He’s only ever seen the me play volleyball at my tragically early prime, and he’s naive to think that using some lines an anime protagonist would say right before the final battle would magically fix every problem I’ve ever had since I ate shit in front of hundreds of people a year ago. I couldn’t tell you how I feel about abandoning volleyball but I do know that I feel like I want to vomit whenever I see a net.

I violently wrench my arm away and put space between us.

“You’re right,” I snap. “There’s no way you could understand what I’m going through. But don’t feel bad,” I hitch my bag up higher and throw a look backwards over my shoulder, “Not a single person does. Find yourself another manager.”

As I leave, I fully expect Itoi Justin to stop fanboying once and for all after finding out that the Blue Star is a bitchy, cynical person who can’t even play volleyball anymore anyway. I guess it was my fault for underestimating his blind faith in me.

“So?” he asks.

I stop in the doorway in surprise.

“What?”

He crosses his arms, making no move to come closer to me now that he has my attention. I could walk out the door right now, heaven knows I wanted to, but somehow that asshole knows I’m going anywhere.

“Of course no one understands how you feel. People may have seen you get injured or have heard of it, but in the end, you’re the one that got hurt. How’s anyone else supposed to know what you’re thinking? Bite and snap at me all you want, but it won’t make me feel your pain.”

He runs a hand through his hair, “I want you to be co-manager with me. I’m in my third year and I want the team to be taken care of after I graduate. I’m not asking you to play again or to give me an answer right now, just… Just consider my offer, okay? No one on the team knows who you are, if that makes you feel any better. And there’s one more thing...” he hesitates.

“Hurry up,” I say.

“The truth is, Seijoh has never gone to Nationals before,” he says slowly. “But you? You were projected MVP for a team almost certain to make it to at least the semi-finals!”

I give him a look, “And we both know that definitely didn’t happen.”

“I know, I know! I just-- They - the boys, I mean - have been working so hard and they’re so talented, (L/N). Please, you need to join a club anyway, and if you can’t do it to save your own soul or as a favor to me, can’t do it to help them? You remember wanting to go to Nationals, don’t you? Volleyball Monthy listed you as the number--” I cut him off.

“Holy shit, you talk so much it makes my head hurt!” Rubbing my forehead, I think about my first year in high school. He’s wrong about most things he said about me, but he’s right that, at one time, I wanted nothing more than to win Nationals. I remember wanting it so bad, by entire being would electrify just thinking about it.

Itoi waits patiently as I stare at the floor in careful deliberation. With a loud sigh, I look back up at him.

“Fine,” I snap.

“You’ll consider it?” he practically screeches.

“I’ll consider considering it,” I grumble and try once more to take my leave. He doesn’t stop me this time, but when I’m out of sight, I can hear his excited screaming echoing throughout the stairwell.

#haikyuu!!#haikyu #haikyuu x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader

17 notes · View notes

diveronarpg · 4 years

Photo

Congratulations, LISSA! You’ve been accepted for the role of BENVOLIO. Admin Minnie: Our Bellamy has come home at last, and I am so excited to welcome you as well, Lissa! Your application was, in a word, gorgeous. I could viscerally feel Bellamy’s heartache and his struggles with every line, and you mapped out a beautiful peacemaker who has yet to find peace within himself. While I read and reread your prose several times, it was your passion for Bellamy that really made this an easy decision. The level of thoughtfulness and care, Lissa, was next level, truly. It became very clear to us how deeply you loved Bellamy, and I’m so excited to see Bellamy blossom on our dash. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER .

ALIAS:

Lissa.

AGE:

21.

PREFERRED PRONOUNS:

She/her.

ACTIVITY LEVEL:

My time is limited because of university and my part-time internship. However, I’d say I’m able to pop up twice/thrice a week, more or less!

TIMEZONE:

GMT -3.

HOW DID YOU FIND THE RP?

I found this RP some time ago, so I can’t say for sure. Probably through the tags, though!

OTHER RP ACCOUNTS:

https://dantesinfcrno.tumblr.com/.

IN CHARACTER .

CHARACTER:

Benvolio as Bellamy Santo Domingo.

WHAT DREW YOU TO THIS CHARACTER?

“ WAR-BEGOTTEN. ” ╱ “ HIS KICKING A MEANS OF DEFENSE FROM CRUELTY. ”

NATURE VERSUS NURTURE, an undying question with no solutions, a concept with a spectrum that falters and crumbles in the hands of Bellamy: a boy, born amidst carnage, picking flowers in haunted fields and gifting beauty upon the world like a stolen flame only pertinent to deities. He wears no crown of laurels upon waves of untamed hair, but every spring spats thorns before his feet. Bellamy cradles them, plunges them against his veins, his chest, his neck, puncturing his flesh with words whispered by fated winds. Kindness is dangerous as a sharp blade, if wielded with enough precision. He refuses, time and time again, this visceral call from the woods, from the ivory castles that know of corpses and festering. He refuses, vices and sins unbecoming of him –– but they are already there, lurking in the shadows since air reached his lungs for the first time. Bellamy pretends not to see it, but those who stare deep into his eyes can recognize the Stygian darkness that swims underneath honeyed warmth. A flame is still scorching, no matter how domesticated.

IN AN INTERLUDE, he swears there will never be carmine stains in his fingers. He lays awake at night, however –– the blood his heart pumps might as well not be his own; might have been harvested off the bodies buried beneath Verona’s sacrilegious grounds. Bellamy wonders, a heavy conscience his first determining trait, if he is not punishment from the heavens to the Santo Domingo lineage, if he is not a life sentence determined by God to appease the remnant lambs saved from slaughter. As he moves through the Montagues, through his own people, Bellamy looks in a mirror, and sees nothing. He has always been a ghost, meant to carry what no one desires to hold close.

BELLAMY IS NOT A SLAUGHTERHOUSE of the likes of his father: he is a morgue, eerie place of eternal unrest. Battlecries do not linger in his tongue as prayers do; his knuckles suffer a lesser offense than his guts once a punch is thrown. Violence is a betrayal to the murdered saints that crawl through his spine, and once again–– Bellamy refuses to bow before his birthright. In a world of dog eats dog, he opts to remain alive until his last breath is stolen from his lungs, his canines and claws kept safely hidden underneath trained porcelain touch. To be made out of steel, and not crush all tender things that take root in his soul –– is it foolish, or is it admirable? The looks of pity are the only answer he has ever gotten.

“ POETIC AND PHILOSOPHICAL SOUL OF THE ANCIENT GREEKS. ” ╱ “ CURSED WITH GENTLENESS. ”

KINDNESS & WEAKNESS, he learns, are not the same. Mercy is a weapon like any other, and Bellamy learns how to use it. They do not see it ; and dismissal becomes a habit for this ruinous shrine Bellamy dares call his body. He supposes, amidst war, it’s a privilege to have surprise by one’s side: no one expects the quietest of children to strike with such ravenous fury, hellfire blazing against raw flesh. Bellamy doesn’t speak of grief, of this century-old wound that has found a nest inside of his lungs, of this monstrous butterfly learning how to morph itself into anger.

I YEARN FOR PEACE. I yield. I must provide diplomacy for a world eager to end in flames. He repeats such verses as if they’re the poetry he is so fond of –– because the truth is, gentle elegance is a decision he has taken much before he could stand on his own legs. He is an absurdity, an oxymoron, an anomaly. Is that such a terrible thing to be? Is he in the wrong, to still mourn over those who wished to see him dead? He prays, quietly into the dead of night. He prays, and the world listens, but only for a moment. This is all the hope he has, and is it not an exit wound worse than any other? Relentless wishing upon a star, begging for a deity to descend from paradise and provide salvation–– in the end of this path, Bellamy forces himself to become Pariah & Messiah (if not him, who else would find reason amongst blasphemous madness? who else would shamefully bow their head before the cross, and beg for their sins to be forgiven?).

THE CURSE THEY SPEAK OF IS A BLESSING IN DISGUISE, for Montagues & Capulets alike are far too consumed by the fiery flames of murderous passion to understand the gravity of each battle they initiate. Bellamy has run out of ways to explain the weight of the blood that paints cobbled streets red ; decides to act as a fortress for his people (this entire city, plagued by a tale of two selfish families). PEACEMAKER, they say, as if it’s an insult –– as if his loyalty doesn’t lie deeper than any other soldier’s ; as if he has not sworn down his life for the chance Verona might see the sun rise in shades of joyous amber ; as if he hasn’t halted his existence to serve & protect.

BELLAMY DOES NOT offer words enlaced with poison to those who subdue him –– his throat aches with screams locked in for too long, but he dares not speak unless he delivers alluring arguments that might lead all out of danger. This is what he has never chosen for himself, and yet–– he bears it. For his father, for his brothers, for Roman and Marcelo, for the warriors that spit on the paths he follows with religious diligence, for the mothers in this nightmarish town that provides no comfort to their sons but death.

THE MIND HE HAS CULTIVATED, albeit mocked by many, is a powerful companion to the tender heart he has crafted with mangled hands. Innocence is vulgar in a world like this –– but Bellamy’s good will is not one borne out of naiveté. This is what both armies do not understand: Bellamy is not moved by his kindness, nor is he propelled by volatile emotions –– what blooms underneath the tender facade is a deliberate choice he will take, time and time again, funded on principles that have raised Athens from the ground up. This is what he will not abdicate. This is what no one sees, for he is more ghost than man, more mind than matter: amidst wicked and tempestuous men, Bellamy raises himself above raging waves, an unmovable marble tower.

HE, OF COURSE, STILL PICKS UP A DAGGER ╱ a gun, infiltrating loveless troops in order to conquer peace. There is no other way, he has realized. Perhaps crumbling is necessary for rebirth ; perhaps some sins can only be washed out with blood. As Francis Butler once said, “the nation that will insist on drawing a broad line of demarcation between the fighting man and the thinking man is liable to find its fighting done by fools and its thinking done by cowards,” so Bellamy goes to the front lines ; not with the blind desire to create chaos ╱ but to make change. If the weight of the pen is not enough, he will find a way to be heard.

“ SINS OF OMISSION. ” ╱ “ PUT OUT THE FIRES. ” ╱

“ SELF-LOATHING. ”

BELLAMY DOES NOT REST, his mind unable to encounter a moment of quiet. When will this end? He could only ever sleep once he turned his back to Verona, bloodshed no longer marring his door –– but still, he woke up in a cold sweat at least once a week, and it felt like betrayal, deep down in his bones. ATLAS could never hide his true nature, for the Earth would still weigh heavily down his shoulders. He wasn’t missed, of course, too much of an oddity, with idealist visions that somehow disturbed the choleric landscape they lived in. And yet, as he traveled around the globe, as he became renowned for his grasp of law & justice, insatisfaction was in the back of his mind. What if–– they died? What if–– Marcelo disappeared one night? What if–– Roman could not handle life on his own? What if––. No amount of change was capable of drowning this out, when the city that has birthed him was still ablaze. You have become selfish. He would stare at open windows, and the desire to book a flight would bellow inside of his every vein. Embrace your fate, for cowardice is unbecoming of a Santo Domingo.

BITTER ONCE HE LEAVES, bitter once he returns. Is there anything he could do, to prevent this miserable tale of a prodigal child coming back to a nest they’d long forsaken? No matter how many books he has memorized, there are no words that can explain this feeling –– no one can comprehend him, for his scars are invisible to most. He stands, tall and proud, but darkness comes for him, and he howls to the moon, for it is the only being who understands his pain. You, too, fester in ruby shades against your will. You, too, become eclipsed by a purpose much larger you could ever hope to be. You, too, are still following the footsteps of the sun. Bellamy can no longer abstain from this war, so he wears adamantine armour (a brilliant mind, a beautiful smile, poignant words). Some days, it’s easier to pretend he is no longer holy. Some days, he drowns the taste of copper from his tongue with wine. Some days, he cries –– for those he killed ; for his own spirit, mutilated. Most days, he becomes a sacred image made out of steel: I am no angel, but I can try, I must try.

“ BELLAMY MAY BE BORN INTO WAR, MAY HAVE BEEN BRED INTO IT, BUT THAT DOES NOT MEAN HE WILL HAVE TO SUBMIT TO IT — NO, HE WILL FIGHT. ”

( ADDENDUM . ) In the novel, Benvolio is a static character, lacking much depth beyond his diplomatic role, as he is often the only voice of reason amidst a vicious crowd led by a herd mentality. I aim to translate his wish for peace as his primary motivation, but root it deeper –– the system in which Bellamy was raised in should have, in theory, destroyed all tenderness his nature would have provided him with. So where does it come from? How has he protected this piece of himself, even when surrounded by death? Bellamy is a strong character –– not only because of his physique, but because his mind is a fortress. I believe his philosophical spirit has always pushed Bellamy to see life beyond the walls of his own home. I believe the love he felt specifically for Roman and Marcelo urged him to value humanity much more than any other soldier of his kind. His gentleness has always been a choice: not always a conscious one, but a choice nonetheless. But no one has only one principle to follow, and morality is a grey and temptatious thing. Bellamy might not be easily led to a fight, but he has always been a protector –– his self-loathing and the ingrained idea that his life is worth less combine to form this selfless persona, sometimes to the point of toxicity, to the detriment of his own being, willing to do it all for whomever is in need.

What is most intriguing to me, concerning Bellamy, is that he is a paradox in more ways than one, which creates a multitude of paths he could take. He strives for peace, but is still fighting a war. In his core, he believes this conflict is useless and only acts as a catalyst for more pain, but since he desires to protect his loved ones (which includes the mob he was raised in, his family and friends, but might as well include a stranger in trouble) & honor his name, he came back to Verona as soon as he was summoned. He has been altruistic for so long it has worn him out, and now selfishness claws at his bones (he has left once, and perhaps he still thinks too often about doing so again –– Bellamy dreams of forgetting this city, wakes up and tries to repent for wishing to find an identity that goes beyond his occupation inside the Montague ranks). The kindness he chooses to exude is in high contrast to the anger that boils on his blood like a second skin –– he is tired of this game, he is exhausted of worrying and burying everyone that has once made him smile (and what does it take, for a guardian angel to turn his back on his people? What does it take, for a god to abandon his creations to bloodshed, and finally allow forgetfulness to consume his brain? I feel like Bellamy is constantly on the edge of an abyss, staring into the void, the point of no return daring him to step further). It almost feels like his body and his mind are disjointed, and his own wishes have been suppressed in order for him to fill in the shoes his family needs him to.

I don’t think Bellamy is moved by passion and intense emotions, even though his biggest motivators are linked to the people he cares about –– in fact, he cares so much about them, that he has always been willing to die by the sword if it meant his father and mother would be safe, if it meant Roman and Marcelo could enjoy a longer and happier life. He is not a cowardly man, never had the chance to be, even when the world became his home –– I envision that Bellamy has seen and lived many tragedies, probably had his hands on a few of them. It will weigh down on his back, on his shoulders. This type of character will always carry an omen on their bodies, no matter how hard they try to wash it out. I think this is a cycle that shackles Bellamy down and he still isn’t sure if he can break free from it (or even if he wants to do so, for being selfish has brought him unbearable guilt during his travels & Bellamy can’t forgive himself for straying away from the path delineated for him since birth): he was raised to be lethal, and he remains in this dark setting where flowers can not bloom, trying to force the petals to come out anyway, trying to grasp the sun and gift it to Verona, and the inevitable failing of this turns him disgusted by his own reflection, desperate to prove himself and justify his existence by doing his duty for the name Montague.

WHAT IS A FUTURE PLOT IDEA YOU HAVE IN MIND FOR THE CHARACTER?

GODHOOD. Verona is a city of sinners, and Bellamy’s hands are not devoid of their own –– however, in them, there is a gentleness carved out not from the absence of violence, but despite it ; a temple raised in the name of Agape, as Bellamy becomes a god, ready to purge & forgive, to kiss the feet of those who have walked upon a dirtied path & purify them. Odin Bello is not the first to use the Santo Domingo’s ears as a confessionary, and he certainly won’t be the last –– there is something in his eyes that prompts people to open up ; to make offerings and sacrifices in exchange of honeyed prayers, for it’s the holiest thing Verona has to offer (a boy still, whose halo is faded ╱ whose body’s a litany of mysteries and nocturnal waves). This is the closest to peace they can get, half-angel at their doorstep, wings bled dry, gunpowder on his hands –– it is sublime as it is terrifying, and some can not bear it (Rafaella, for one, seems to be terrorized by his very image, insistent on driving him away as he pleads for her to see the light: where in God’s name is the child I’ve met, don’t you wish to forge a kinder ending to us all?). In his search for peace, Bellamy has long forgotten his own humanity –– he’s always had to bury it in order to fulfill his role as a son, as a warrior, as a scholar, as a peacemaker (there is no space for him to simply be, and he often wanders around Verona, searching for an exit ╱ the world has not given him an answer, neither has the mob). What is he, but a weapon? What is he, but a forsaken deity? Bellamy has crossed oceans and continents, and still–– he isn’t seen. Is there one to embrace him fully, vices & virtues, blood moon & sunshine? Is there a way for Santo Domingo to dissolve himself of his own existence, but without guilt? The thoughts often haunt him –– but alas, he has to rise in the morning, for his own life is not the heaviest weight he has to carry.

( ADDENDUM . ) Unlike the two other plots I will lay out in the next sections, this one is directed inwards. Bellamy, in my perception, has always seen himself in relation to others –– how he can help, what can he do for them, how his existence can be a tool for others to improve their own lives. He has always filled in a role: his motivations are genuine, but how does one push forward, when dedicating all of their energies to everyone but themselves? I think Bellamy had his time away from home & from the traditional boxes he had to fit himself into, but still–– it was marred by so much guilt and the constant stress of receiving dire news, because Bellamy had always been aware Verona would not change its ways, especially not with him gone. So many of his frustrations are still boiling underneath his skin –– he is out of place, he hasn’t found himself, he doesn’t feel like he can fully pursue his dreams & wants because it would mean letting someone else down. He is still the soldier that put all of his desires on hold in the name of honouring his ancestors, and while he takes pride on this, on his family–– it is oh, so unfulfilling, to aim for peace and come back to war, to raise your voice and not be heard.

I’m very invested in my character’s psyches, and I fully believe every character has many layers that deserve to be explored with utmost dedication –– no one is merely one thing, and it would be quite sad to portray any fictional being as such. I want to explore Bellamy’s vision of the family he so loves, and for which he has given up so much for, how adoration balances itself out with the bitterness he tries to drown so desperately, how he dedicates himself to his job & position even though he feels disgusted by posing as a bodyguard, when the loyalty of those he protects is bought with money and not with the respect he preaches all living creatures should be deserving of. I want to see beyond his quest for peace –– will he ever let his guard down? Will there ever be someone he trusts, beyond the feud that extends over Verona? Will Bellamy find understanding, someone he can speak to, someone that crawls underneath his skin and finds he is so much more than a peacekeeper? Most importantly, will Bellamy discover himself? Will he find his strength to power through this reality he never wished to come back to? Where will he find it? How will it transform him? Is love capable of holding him up, moving him forward? Will the hunger for more break his heart, will the ugliness of bloodshed turn him sour at last?

BROTHERS IN ARMS. Bellamy is a man of the past –– his core survives on sweet memories of a flourishing spring that will never come back. Laughter, juvenile & booming, was something he could only share with Roman and Marcelo, the two friends he feels actually belong to him, with him. Bellamy has never dared to utter his adoration aloud to either of them, has never admitted he’d rather die than see them perish. The love he has given them was perhaps lukewarm, when compared to these two feisty demons with hellfire for hearts: Bellamy’s affection was a tender kiss to the temples, soft massages to erase their aches, a moment of quiet as he wiped the sweat from their foreheads. He never promised to remain by their side, but in his chest–– he knows his place is right beside them, perhaps below them, but still close. And Bellamy has thrown that to the wind once he up and left, consumed with a selfish desire to live as a person, and not a warrior born out of a patronym. He loves them, will always love them most of all –– but maybe that is not enough. Maybe there is an abyss in between them, an ocean separating their souls. Lucky for them, Bellamy is willing to cross it with undeterred determination –– anything to safely tuck them away inside his rib cage ; his drive to protect grows stronger when near them (is there anything he wouldn’t do for these remembrances of boyhood? He is scared of discovering there isn’t, so he blinds himself once Marcelo comes by, once Roman’s cologne reaches his nose). The tally of his sins would grow & grow, and the only ones that would make such fate bearable would be his brothers.

( ADDENDUM . ) Bellamy’s friendship with Roman and Marcelo is one of the things I’m extra eager to explore! First and foremost, because I am sure, beyond Bellamy’s immediate family, these two are his most important people & there is very little he wouldn’t do for them. And, boy, would I like to discover what the limits of this friendship are! Is there a line Bellamy, the loyal Patroclus to these two Achilles, would not cross, even when concerning the people closest to his heart? Would he ever forsake them in the name of his morals? Alternatively, what absurdities would he commit on their names? What lengths would he cover, to see both of them living a long and happy life?

In the book, Benvolio is in a lower position than Mercutio and Romeo –– which is mirrored here, so it opens up a myriad of possibilities. Italian mafias are known for a strict code of conduct & sense of hierarchy, and they also work as famiglias, obviously. So I picture that, although they were raised together, there was always a thin line separating them: Bellamy always considered himself less than Roman and Marcelo, and was satisfied to occupy this lower rank & serve them in any way he could. It interests me in the sense that, even though they’re his closest friends & probably the few people that have always accepted him (because this is another one of his struggles –– both his “softer” personality and his gender identity are probably strange concepts to his traditional family in the same manner, and acceptance is not something Bellamy has ever had plentiful of), I still think Bellamy tries and holds himself back with them –– there are parts of him that are occulted, and purposefully so, from the ones he loves most. So I’m thinking, once he left, it was probably a huge shock for Roman and Marcelo –– no one saw it coming. Of course Bellamy did his best to remain in contact, but still, dissidence is dissidence. So how do they receive him back? Have Roman and Marcelo ever actually seen Bellamy with the same eyes he sees himself with? How much of an abyss has originated in between them, after these four years of distance?

BLOODHOUND. Loyalty and obedience, when combined, are quite a dangerous threat to one’s honesty and commitment to good deeds, especially when an involvement with the mob is concerned. His continuous absence has not gone unnoticed –– and many have frowned upon his return. Bellamy, a soldier? he has heard them laugh. Bellamy, a fighter? he has felt their scorn from the weight of the stares that follow him as he steps into a room. It brings him sick nostalgia ; one that leaves his stomach turned upside down. The children that used to sneer at him for taking care of stray dogs & cats are now his companions in this senseless war (and yet they all seem too eager to see Bellamy fail –– they doubt him, untrust creating a wall between them. More than isolating, it’s demeaning to a man who is willing to give out his life to honor his father’s ╱ a man who has slashed all of his hopes & dreams to fulfill a path that does not belong to him). The bellicose bickering within the ranks, however, does not disturb him –– Benvolio does not get the credit he is deserving of, for hiding so well underneath porcelain features. These soldiers have nothing on the silent storm that builds inside of Benvolio –– his heritage has always been written out in shallow graves, tainted by fate ; by the numerous gods of Death. Now, he is forced to reach for it, to hold it (it scorches his fingers, it gifts him endless agony, but he lets it have its rightful place next to his beating heart). How far into umbriferous rivers can he sink? ╱ What is the limit of this painful allegiance to his own name? Bellamy does not sleep, for all his nights are wasted away in wondering –– what will I become? And that is perhaps the only murder he is not ready to commit.

( ADDENDUM . ) Concerning this point, I’d like to explore a few paths. Firstly, how was Bellamy received back by the Montagues? He was never a figure on the receiving end of much respect, since his quest for peace turned him into a black sheep of sorts, but surely leaving amidst a war was not an act appreciated by many. Are there suspicions of him? Is he a victim of something similar to military abuse from his peers? Trust was certainly lost, and Bellamy is willing to take the steps to conquer it back –– not for himself, but in the name of his poor father, who deserves as much. The point is, how far is he willing to go for this acceptance? Better yet, in order to show the loyalty that he has always cherished for his parents & for the Montagues, is Bellamy willing to go against his principles? Of course, he is wearing their armour while vouching for peace, but this is not a plan that can be considered definitive.

He is merely a soldier, but would he go against the hierarchy he was raised to respect, if he felt the orders given were unjust? Spoiler alert: I think he certainly would, which would only make the trust he is desperate to regain even more of a distant perspective. I think Bellamy would struggle to try to maintain the scales even, to find a balance between obedience and his principles –– but that won’t work forever, and, at some point, he will have to decide what reigns (and that is one more inner turmoil for him to face). This is something that will always be at the core of his development, in my opinion, and it can fluctuate.

For example, Bellamy is a scholar. I see him as the observing type, listening before he speaks. He tries to understand people to the best of his ability. So, of course, he will interact with Capulets and, instead of seeing them as the enemy, he will more likely take a humanist approach. These are individuals, with their own families & struggles, not beasts to be slaughtered –– this is where Odin Bello comes in, for I think he’ll be a very important piece for Bellamy’s development in this sense, because the Santo Domingo willfully trusts people, no matter their background (everyone should have a second chance, should they not?). He is not ignorant or unaware of how this can end, but he is certainly a character with the most disposition to understand someone coming from a different place than he is.

If the time comes where he has to end one of them (and I’d like him to –– whether because it’s a request from Roman or Marcelo themselves, or a decision Bellamy comes to in order to defend them, because his protective nature is not just for show, and it definitely has darker roots), it would be a large blow to his constitution as a person. I don’t think Bellamy would ever forgive himself, and guilt would consume him –– it’s a great source to explore the underlying shadows he has, his self-hatred, and where would those things lead him (would he leave? Would he consider himself, at one point, far too gone & take a leap into war? Would he take his own life? Would he ever betray the Montagues to save another?).

I think this is intriguing as well, because Bellamy’s motivations are directed outwardly –– to achieve peace for the city, to save his loved ones from pain, so on and so forth. So his relationships to others will be determinants to the paths he’d take –– because it’s an instinct of his, to think of others before himself. But, then again, can he be convinced to embrace his selfishness? Can he turn his back to them all, if enough buttons are pushed? Everyone has a breaking point, and Bellamy seems to outright neglect his needs and limitations in order to step in for others –– which means a breakdown is in order, but also that it will take plenty of build-up!

ARE YOU COMFORTABLE WITH KILLING OFF YOUR CHARACTER?

Yes, for sure, if it serves a purpose!

IN DEPTH .

IN-CHARACTER INTERVIEW:

› WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE PLACE IN VERONA? ‹

CARAMEL-HUED IRISES meet the ethereal roof of the Cathedral of Verona –– it used to be his favorite place, even when the Capulets reigned over it, for it raised Bellamy closer to a God he could hear ╱ could understand better than he could a war that tinged his family with nonsensical losses and burials, hollowed out spaces carved on their roots as the sunset started resembling more a battleground than a kingdom of beauty. Bellamy recalls the singing that used to echo inside luxurious walls, filling his heart with choirs of warm voices (the boy swore he could feel an angel’s grasp touching his hands, inviting him to reach higher ╱ he never did, terrified of the consequences of holiness, but perhaps he was gifted with a martyr’s heart, and was that not much heavier?). Now, however, the Montague mark has erased memories of saints & softness alike –– there is always a dulled tud to be heard ; a silent ache overflowing from his bones. Bellamy taps his pen against the question he posed against himself: it was a heavy blow too soon since his return, but the Santo Domingo only knows kindness to wounds that do not belong to him. There is a heavy sigh as mulls over his options –– even his home is a lie, one that bears a dismantled innocence he’d rather avoid. In the corner of his notebook, Bellamy writes down, cursive letters delineated with delicacy: “ the library. ” It is no different than the church, for the countless shelves boast about the Montague heritage –– in Verona, there is nowhere to turn, for every piece of the city tells a story not in ink, but with blood (he tries to tell himself he does not hate this, that a part of him does not fester once he walks outside, breathes in the air soaked with death). When Bellamy sinks into immeasurable knowledge, however, it’s easier to forget the reality that awaits him outside the Montague’s fortress –– even as a man, as a soldier, Bellamy lingers in empty rooms, a stack of books by his side as the hours come and go (he does not distract himself with the noises outside, with the possibilities with sharp claws, as poets and philosophers and theorists feed him sublime words). What else could he ask for, but this make-shift serenity?

› WHAT DOES YOUR TYPICAL DAY LOOK LIKE? ‹

IT IS PATHETIC OF HIM, to gather the unstopping questions he received upon his return & write them down to pin answers proper enough (underneath his skin, however, the truth lurks as a viper: you can only spit out honesty to yourself, face half-eclipsed, in secret ╱ no one desires to hear you once the pleasant river that flows down your tongue stanches ; once the corpses start floating up from the depths of your soul to the shore of your lips, disfigured & dismembered, like the crude words you never let out). His handwriting seems to stare into his soul, calloused fingers trembling as his mind splits –– the facade, his candor, the middle-ground that is as unsatisfying as what Bellamy has to offer. He is twenty-four, a degree in law under his belt with a specialization on international relations –– but he is a bodyguard ╱ a soldier (it all depends on who asks) ; and his most prized possession is no longer his mind, but the strength of his brawl. Bellamy finds it strange, even, that they trust his hands to protect –– most days are accompanied by the weighty stare of his peers, as if he is not a pacifist but instead a grenade. It is almost demeaning, for a man of the law to stand by people, but only for a price (as if any life can be monetized ; as if that is not a sin by itself). His mere stance inside the Montague ranks make him a corrupted figure, unclean –– it’s worth it, he mumbles under his breath, it’s what I was made for (his heart seems to rebel with the strength of a caged bird as he steps further into this organization).

His days are spent idly, almost –– his fists are always clenched ; bile is always clinging to his throat, acidic & nauseating. There is no beauty to uncover in Verona, no enthralling tales waiting to be discovered. –––– I spend all of my days trying to be heard, even though I am well aware soldiers are not supposed to have mouths. –––– he whispers to himself, a tender smile forming on his lips (it’s an instinct, more than a reflection of joy). One day, perhaps, his fight will be worth it –– at least, that’s what he tells himself, in order to have half an hour of rest every dawn.

› WHAT HAS BEEN YOUR BIGGEST MISTAKE THUS FAR? ‹

IT’S A QUESTION THAT HAUNTS HIM SINCE CHILDHOOD, for Bellamy often wonders what he could’ve done differently –– is there any choice he could’ve taken, that would spare him of these results? No matter the frequency with which he falls into these pits, the conclusion he comes to tends to be the same: fate would have been kinder only if he had been born under a different name, far away from the plagued streets of Italy –– but since he is a Santo Domingo, the list of his mistakes extends itself much further than the date of his genesis, going back to the first man to shed their skin in the honour of a Montague and not their own. Bellamy’s nails dig through the palms of his hands –– it throbs, but it’s the subdued ache that he is used to welcoming with open arms (he does not pity himself, for his low worth is a fact ingrained on the insides of his thighs and his teeth). –––– What mistake have I not made? –––– he wonders aloud, and his voice echoes and shatters inside this chamber of forgiveness (but even God has abandoned him, no glories to be bestowed upon Bellamy’s solitary altar). His eyes are closed once he starts scribbling, uninterrupted consciousness as he lists his regrets: tearing apart my mother’s womb ; surviving the trials humanity forced upon a frail child’s body ; laughing when I shouldn’t have ; refusing to smile when I should’ve ; abandoning the city that gifted me all I have ; returning to the place that crushed my hopes ; being too tender ╱ being too harsh ; simply being –– not a fleshed warrior, not a kinder deity (just Bellamy, a fine friend, and nothing more).

› WHAT HAS BEEN THE MOST DIFFICULT TASK ASKED OF YOU? ‹

TO STOP VALUING LIFE, is what he writes down, without much thought. As a combatant, one must first learn how to fall (how to perish) before picking up a sword or lifting their fists. As a protector, Bellamy grew up listening that his life was no more than a shield to his king –– and perhaps, he never truly learned how to give this up, this desire to become more than these red threads of fate ordered him to be (more than carnage, this was his reason for leaving, was it not? To find the parts of Bellamy Santo Domingo that extended beyond mob ranks & fancy nomenclatures for murderers). His dilemma was a sword with multiple edges, and it ended nested inside his chest, puncturing his heart –– no one seemed to mean a thing for the war that raged on, no matter how beloved ; entire families could be wiped clean and left without a proper ending ; kind strangers could become his next target (and, oh, perhaps the smile Bellamy had given them was more ominous than an act of docility ; perhaps he has more claws and canines than he wants to admit).

› WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON THE WAR BETWEEN THE CAPULETS AND THE MONTAGUES? ‹

I WANT IT TO END, and the words are furious, burning against paper –– his pulse seems to strike with force against his jugular (Bellamy feels every beat, and in his mind, there’s always the awareness it might be his last). –––– It has gone for far too long, it is not worth it –– it has never been. –––– he is a preacher to no one but himself in this moment, solitude providing him an outlet for the emotions he so adores to bottle up, muttering under his breath as the light inside his eyes flickers (it can’t go out, but God –– how to keep a candle ablaze when the winds blow harsher with each new day? How to maintain the warmth inside his muscles when winter consumes him whole? How, how, how?). Bellamy pushes against the current, but his legs are paralysed and frozen ╱ phantom limbs, as he tries not to succumb to the ghostly nature that has followed his every step. Bellamy writes, and writes, and writes –– he has also ran away, he has also tried to become someone else. But now, he is determined to fight –– he isn’t sure of the how or when, but the gun already weighs in the palm of his hand. Time is ticking ; eyes bore into his back. I WANT IT TO END, AND I WILL END IT (and, oh, Lord, what is the cost of this one more choice?).

IN-CHARACTER PARA SAMPLE:

EXTRAS:

Pinterest board.

#accepted #accepted: benvolio

4 notes · View notes

noir0neko · 4 years

Note

sometimes i feel like ppl wanna pretend tumblr's writing standards doesnt exist but when someone actually talk about how trying to reach it tax them out, ppl go 'dont follow it!!! do you!!! be your original self!!' but end up not showing the same amount of support with the notes. and the writer ends up looking ridiculous and pathetic for voicing out their tiredness about the standards (double standards?) idk i've been thinking about this.

Hey there :)

I think I understand what you’re trying to say! I’m going to voice my thoughts on this and if it’s not what you meant, please correct me! I’m glad you felt you could share your thoughts with me, I am always here to chat <3

This is going to probably be a long post so the rest is below!

This is something that has plagued me since I began this blog almost five years ago tbh. I was super attached to getting notes and gaining followers, especially when I first started posting my work. Which created this cycle where I was writing what my followers requested and only that, and became really upset when a piece didn’t do as well as I hoped. But then I wasn’t always writing what was in my heart and forcing myself to write when I wasn’t into it, which deteriorated my passion for it over time until I took a hiatus.

As a whole, especially in fan fiction writing, and especially for BTS, there are specific AU’s and ideas that get more attention than others. Certain genres get more notes and attention, and so do stories that center around certain members. Unfortunately, that’s something that I think all fan fiction writers have to deal with, no matter the fandom or band or book series.

That makes it really hard, especially when first starting out, to NOT fall into the algorithm of putting out works that only fit within that genre. And then it becomes a habit and then a chore and can become not fun anymore. I definitely did that and that was a huge reason why I ended up leaving for so long.

I have put original works or pieces that I am passionate about, but not requested on this blog and generally, they never do as well as the more “by the book” fics. It sucks and I definitely agree with what you’re saying in many ways. While the sentiment is nice, of writing what I want and being original, that’s not what is typically successful on this platform. Not in my experience.

I still have to remind myself when I post something original to not be depressed or upset that it didn’t get as much attention as I hoped. I still have to remind myself that when I see another writer with thousands of likes on a fic they posted a week ago that it doesn’t make me any less of a writer. I also have to remind myself that my note count and my follower count doesn’t matter. But I live in a culture, especially as a woman, where those things matter very much. People see others and their worth in terms of their social status, by followers, likes, comments, etc. That mindset is hard to escape, even here on Tumblr.

I have lost a lot of followers since I came back and made my blog more diverse than just BTS. That sucks and it hurts, because this has been my baby, but if I continued to just be BTS, then I wouldn’t be able to share my diverse passions and other interests with people and would feel constricted and restrained. Before I left, I spent a long time answering ALL of my requests and putting half ass work out and I came to the conclusion during my hiatus that I would much rather put out works I felt SO proud of and have them do alright, then put out works I thought were crappy and have them do great.

I know I am staying as true to myself as I want to be on here and that matters.

As a reader and a writer, it’s always easy to encourage other people and not follow through. Sometimes certain topics or genres sing to one person and don’t for another, and that’s completely okay. I do understand what you’re saying and I feel that way, as well. I sometimes post little rants to try and engage with everyone here and to help you guys get to know me better and me get to know all of you. But most of them go ignored from what I can see on my end, and it does discourage me from posting anything personal at all.

It can be really easy to fall into a cycle of negativity on this platform, especially if I start comparing myself to other people. But I know that a lot of what I would be getting upset over is largely left to chance: people may not see what I posted come up on their dash, I just came back from a two year hiatus, pretty much all of the people I knew here before have left, and I have opened my blog to include other fandoms that some of my former followers may not want to see. There are so many variables on a website, especially one like Tumblr.

And despite feeling discouraged sometimes, like no one really reads my writing or will care about my next fic, I know I will feel proud of myself for finishing it and sticking with what I am passionate about, so I keep going!

~Admin Eggplant

#FUDGE that was a long post #sorry for the mini rant #ive been on this platform for a Long Time writing #i have a lot to say lmao #thank you nonnie for sharing!

4 notes · View notes

thebiasrekkers · 5 years

Text

Stay With Me -KSJ [Part 2]

For the @btswriterscorner - Amor Fabula Launch Project in celebration of the month of Valentine’s Day!

Plot: Kim Seokjin is a Therapist for the converted but what happens when he finally understands what his clients go through.

Rating: PG-13 // SFW

Genre: dystopian!au/dystopian themes | angst | romance/fluff

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Female OC (Leliana)

Warnings: Strong language, mentions of conversion, death and sickness

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin L’s AO3 || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 1,742

AN: This is the second half to Shouldn’t Be. Please read that one first before reading this one or you might be a bit confused! As always:comments, reviews and requests are always welcome!

© thebiasrekkers (Admin L). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

Seokjin sat there with Leliana at the Doctor’s office, hand trying not to squeeze hers too much out of anxiety. Ever since he found out about her illness, he had made it a point to go with her to every visit to see if there was a slim hope that she would get better. It had been a couple of weeks since he found out about the Syndrome but they had insisted on her coming in for more testing. She gave his hand a squeeze, pulling him out of his thoughts and towards her--his eyes landing on her and she gave him a smile.

It was strange to him, how she didn’t appear to be sick but on the inside? They both knew what the result would be should the next tests turn out to be positive. The Syndrome or more known as Solar Sickness in acute forms. It usually formed in lower Castes because the colony that some would live in didn’t have the proper functionality as the others did. A problem that was being fixed with some of the new reforms of the System but the lasting effects could span generations.

In generations, it turned into a Syndrome that could sneak past the detailed scans of people’s genetic profile. There wasn’t much information on it since it had started to become a problem as of late because of all the upgrades the Colonies were receiving to prevent it from happening as best as they could. However, it was still a problem that they were facing since they established the Colonies because of the troubles Humanity faced with near extinction. He wasn’t a Doctor or Scientist so the details to him were a bit confusing but when the Doctor finally came out, he knew that he would be getting the answers by the grim look on his face.

He explained that Leliana indeed had Solar Sickness but there was no way that they could find that she had the Syndrome that it would form into. It formed with her constant exposure in her Castes’ colony ecosystem and gotten worse since they made the upgrades to their own. Solar Sickness was a form of radiation sickness caused by the intense solar storms and flares that kept beating down on the Earth since it no longer had an Ozone Layer due to Humanity’s past. The sickness was eating her up on the inside, almost like a cancer that had spread to her bones. Had she noticed it earlier, they might have been able to prevent the genetic damage and possibly have a treatment for her.

The news hit Seokjin hard while Leliana gave a long sigh. The both of them headed back to the house, not even bothering to pick something up to eat like they had discussed on the way there. For a normal, jovial type of person like himself--the ride was unnervingly quiet as he tried to process everything that he had been told. Even his own tricks that he would use on his clients were not working for him that day, the numbness that overtook him since hearing the words of “I’m sorry…”

The papers he held in his hand were nearly crumpled by the time they got back, the transport had dropped them off and leaving with a rush. He just couldn’t stop looking at Leliana as she walked up to the door, the cute little umbrella that he had gotten her to shield herself from the intense sun. She balanced it in her hand as she reached for the lock, papers of her own in her arms. He wanted to reach out and touch her, his hand almost there but missed due to the fact that she got the door open. His hand closed over nothing as she entered but then she popped her head back out with an embarrassed smile, holding the door open for him. She had almost closed the door on him but luckily she backtracked for him.

“Seokjin? You need to come inside soon… My arm is hurting from holding the door open.”

He didn’t realize that he had paused for some time as he looked up at her. Her face, round and still healthy looking, stared at him with a slight frown on her face. Seokjin noticed that she had used the lip stain that he had gotten her for her birthday on that day, the twinkling ring that was on her finger as she stood there. If he could, he realized, then he would have put that same twinkling and color into her hair. Finally he stepped in, smiling at her in apology. He took the papers from her and set them down on the table, visions of them having a meal there not too long ago. She picked up the phone and asked him what he would like from the local Chinese restaurant, her words like a breath of wind on his cheek that he could feel at their distance.

Why did he not notice these things before? Like the Inkblot test, the more you look at it--the more things that you can pick out from the picture. He didn’t even know what he had ordered but his focus was still on her as she busied herself with the house. There was a dimple on the back of her arm, near her shoulder that would appear when she bent down to take something off the floor. Even the way she tied her hair back when the food arrived, huffing a bit at the weight of the food she had gotten for the both of them. Her cheeks poked out even more when she did so, the hair that was around her face was now blown away by the huff. She set the things on the table, near the papers. The damnable papers that sentenced her to a slow death, not even a chance to do anything else anymore.

He felt something at his lips, something warm and crispy to which he automatically opened his mouth. Leliana had offered him a dumpling, made to the way that he liked it best. She was holding it precariously as he had been teaching her to use the chopsticks better. The chewing and the flavor of the food drew him out of his gaze, focusing on not choking on the food that was fed to him. She smiled and tugged at his arm, wanting him to sit down for the rest of the food.

“Jin..? Are you ok?” She had asked but he couldn’t bring himself to answer her. He just grabbed more of the food, the hunger starting to overtake him. “Do I need to call someone?”

He slammed his hand with the chopsticks in it on the table, making her jump. Anger grew in his chest at her for being so damn calm. How come she was the only one calm about her fate? Did she give up on her life? Did she want to die? She seemed to guess what it was that he was thinking as she reached out for his hand that was on the table. Up close, he could actually see the tears forming in her eyes. The redness that she had around the whites, proof that she had been holding everything in. A tear fell from his left eye, unwilling and seeming to put cracks in the dam that held everything back inside of himself. Leliana reached up for his face, wiping it away as her own fell.

And for the first time, they kissed.

Food was long forgotten when they touched in such an intimate way. His lips trailing every soft part that he could attach them to like he was memorizing the way she was then. Her feather lite touches on his chest, almost scared to touch him because what they were doing was illegal. It was very illegal, the act of consummating their relationship. Seokjin couldn’t stop himself, every step that he took brought him closer to the very emotions that he had purged from his body. Every soft sigh that escaped their lips as they connected in a way that they hadn’t experienced together before. There was a memory deep down in Leliana’s mind but she wanted to focus on what she had there before her.

Seokjin wanted to cry but he also wanted to bury himself so deep within her, that they’ll never be apart again. The way that he was so close to her, the heat from their bodies causing their pulses to rise as they discovered what it was like to love. He held her so gently, rocked into her so slowly that he wanted to savor everything about what they were doing for the rest of his days. The slight creak of the bed that normally irritated him was like a song as they found each other over and over again.

He’d never heard such a sweeter sound, other than the sound of her voice, than the ones that were coming out of her mouth then. The slow burn, delicious yearning that he had for her as he got closer to what he was seeking. She gripped at him, holding onto his broad shoulders for dear life as she cried out for him. Her nails ended up marking on his olive skin, causing him to hold her closer. When they had finished, the food was cold and both of them were spent like they had been working out for hours. Sweat and other smells filled the room that they had retired to--a soft and close feeling between the both of them as they stared at each other.

Seokjin relished that feeling, the quiet and sleepy feeling after their arduous exercise. He wouldn’t pretend to know how she was feeling but his own feelings had been drug out of places that he didn’t know existed. Places that he had only seen in his clients, how they expressed themselves before he sent them off. This was that feeling that others had felt, he realized. He buried his head in the crook of her shoulder and cried, sobbing about what all he had done. The thick tears that fell on her delicate skin at the unfairness of the situation and everything that he had repressed from the very beginning.

She held him there for hours until they both fell asleep, deciding on how to proceed from there once they both were well rested.

#btswriterscorner #btswriterscollective #hyunglinenetwork #bts-amor fabula #btsbookclub #kwordsmiths #bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #kim seokjin #bts dystopian au

10 notes · View notes

askmeanythingmeme · 4 years

Photo

Happy Thursday my loves! I hunted down some different questions for our meme today. So post the links, answer some asks. All the info you need is under the cut!

1: Could you go the rest of your life without smoking a cigarette?

2: Are you single/taken/heartbroken/confused?

3: What if I told you that you were pretty?

4: Ever been told “it’s not you, it’s me”?

5: Are you interested in anyone right now?

6: What are you looking forward to in the next week?

7: Do you want to be single?

8: Did you go out or stay in last night?

9: How late did you stay up last night?

10: Can you recall the last time you realized you liked someone a lot?

11: Last three things you had to drink?

12: Have you pretended to like someone?

13: Have you ever told somebody you loved them and not actually meant it?

14: Honestly, has anyone seen you in your underwear in the past 3 months?

15: Is it hard for you to get over someone?

16: Think back five months ago, were you single?

17: What were you doing at 12:30 this afternoon?

18: Hold hands with anyone this week?

19: Could you go for the rest of your life without drinking alcohol?

20: What would you name your future daughter?

21: Do you miss anyone?

22: Have you kissed three or more people in one night?

23: Did your last kiss take place in/on a bed?

24: Are you good at hiding your feelings?

25: Have you ever cried from being so mad?

26: Who did you last see in person?

27: Are you listening to music right now?

28: What is something you currently want right now?

29: What is the last thing you said out lot?

30: How is your heart lately?

31: Do you wear the hood on your hoodie?

32: Are you wearing socks?

33: What do people call you?

34: Will you talk to the person you like tonight?

35: Are there any stressful situations in your life?

36: Who did you last share a bed with?

37: Did you do something bad today?

38: When was the last time a member of the opposite sex hugged you?

39: Do you get stressed out easily?

40: Will you sing today?

41: Have you ever wanted to tell someone something but didn’t?

42: Who do you go to when you need to talk to someone?

43: Have you ever been taken to the emergency room in an ambulance?

44: What are you listening to right now?

45: What is wrong with you right now?

46: What is on your wrists right now?

47: Where did you get the shirt/sweatshirt you’re wea

48: What do you like better: hot chocolate or hot apple cider?

49: Do you make wishes at 11:11?

50: Are you a good artist?

51: Love really is a beautiful thing huh?

52: Do you miss the way things were six months ago?

53: Ever been on a golf cart?

54: Do you have trust issues?

55: Ever stayed up all night on the phone, with who?

56: Do you own something from Hot Topic?

57: Do you use chap stick?

58: Have you ever slapped someone in the face?

59: Do you have a little sister?

60: Have you ever been to New York?

61: Think of the last person who said I love you, do you think they meant it?

62: Have you hugged someone within the last week?

63: What were you doing at midnight last night?

64: Have you ever regretted kissing someone?

65: Is there one person in your life that can always make you smile?

66: Were your last three kisses from the same person?

67: Have you kissed anyone in the last five days?

68: Would you rather sleep with someone else or alone?

69: Will next Friday be a good one?

what you need to know:

to participate, please post your ask box, and tag the post with askmeaskcall (and post in discord channel)

1. we like giving and receiving around here, if you choose to participate please be willing to do both.

2. please try and send this to as many people as possible who have chosen to participate, it’s pretty simple to send.

3. check the askmeaskcall tag/channel more than once (even the next day if needed) some timezones are a little wonky so their ask boxes aren’t posted til later, and i’d really like everyone who wants to take part to feel included.

4. you don’t need to have posted your ask box in order to send asks to others. go crazy.

5. questions for this meme can be sent anonymously.

6. super simple. have fun, and any further questions or problems, contact admin!

#askmeaskcall #askmememe #askmeadmin #askme: meme thursday

2 notes · View notes

fresh-outta-jams · 6 years

Text

Signed, Sealed, Delivered - Part 11

Namjoon x Reader Author: Admin Mo Summary: You’re in college when your soulmate mark shows up, an address. You figure sending a letter couldn’t hurt. Warnings: Some swears, soulmate fluff. Word Count: 1.8k

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, Epilogue

You thought four months would take forever to trudge through. You thought every day would be hell, burning even worse than the one before, building, building, building until you’d finally get on the plane to go see Namjoon. Instead, it was like a crescendo. You and Namjoon were talking every day like normal, sending letters back and forth every week or so. He’d update you on things that were happening over there, what he and the boys were up to that day. He’d tell you how much he wished you were there with him, but that he knew you had classes and that he believed in you.

You sent him dumb things on Twitter. He sent you dumber things in response. Many memes of his face were sent back and forth. You’d thought months ago that it wasn’t possible to love him any more than you did already, but you found that the more you talked to him, the more you found to love.

Namjoon was very, very excited about the approaching tour. Very excited.

“Jagiya, look at this cute couple outfit.” He sent it to you while you were Skyping. Your phone pinged another time, an additional image coming through. “Or do you want this one instead?”

“Joonie, I told you, you don’t have to buy me any clothes. I can just bring stuff I have and we can figure out stuff that matches.”

“But baby, we can get soulmate shirts…” He had been spending a little too much time online shopping recently. “It’ll be so cute.”

“Okay, but don’t go overboard.”

“Alright. Oh, also, I was trying to figure out some fun things for us to do, so I think we’re going to go to Disneyland when we’re in California and then I got us Wicked tickets for when we’re in New York. The Shedd Aquarium in Chicago is really nice…”

“Why are you so perfect?” You grinned at him. He grinned back, his dimples prominent and begging to be poked. You swore as soon as you saw him you were going to pinch those adorable cheeks of his.

“I just want my jagi to have fun.”

“I don’t need all of those things to have fun. All I need is you.”

“Ughhh, jagiiii.” His cheeks reddened and he covered his face. “I thought we had a no-cheesy contract.”

“Excuse me, sir? You are WAY cheesier than I could ever aspire to be, what with your adorable matching couple outfits and the most romantic itinerary I’ve ever heard.”

“Okay, okay…” He chuckled. “That’s fair.” His eyes trailed over your features, stopping at your lips before flicking back up to your eyes. You looked amused, if he wasn’t mistaken. “Sorry, I just...want to kiss you so bad.”

“I know, baby. But we just have a few weeks now, right? It’s so close I can taste it.”

“Yeah…” Namjoon smiled softly. “So close…”

***

Little did you know, your first meeting with Namjoon would be a little sooner than even you expected. Your boyfriend, bless his heart, had been busy at work cooking up a little scheme that he hoped would make you happy. According to your friends from school, he KNEW it would make you happy.

Originally the plan was that you would fly to Korea and one of the members of the BTS Staff would be there to take you to either BigHit or the dorms, depending on where the boys were at the time. Namjoon, however, had other plans. It just so happened, that your exams fell on the Thursday and Friday of exam week, which meant you would be cooped up in the library for the three days leading up to them.

RM_fan_94: Okay, so she’ll definitely be in the library, right?

GracieGirl: Definitely. For sure.

Lilyyyy: Agreed. There is literally nowhere else she will be for Monday-Wednesday. Except maybe to grab food really quick, but usually during exam week, she just gets food from the tea place at the library.

RM_fan_94: Okay, perfect.

RM_fan_94: I’m so nervous…

Lilyyyy: Awwwwww!!

GracieGirl: Don’t be! She loves you so freaking much, Namjoon!

Lilyyyy: Yeah, we should know lmao we hear about you all the time.

RM_fan_94: awwwww, does she really talk about me all the time??

GracieGirl: Y E S

Lilyyyy: More than she talks about literally anything else ever.

RM_fan_94: Okay, I gotta go, she’s calling in a few

GracieGirl: Byeeeee!

***

“Dear Namjoon,

I cannot wait to see you. I seriously cannot wait. It’s eating me alive. I check my phone every five minutes, hoping five hours have miraculously passed. I think honestly, the only thing keeping me sane at this point is my homework and my final film project.

I keep thinking about how the minute I finish my last exam, I’ll be on my way to the airport to see you. Well, not the MINUTE after I finish, but a few days later, at least. Ugh, it seems so far away.

I’m working on my final film project now, and I actually like how it’s turning out for once. This is the first project I think I’ve ever felt confident on ever in my life and I can’t wait to send it to you when it’s finished. It’s due soon, though, so I don’t think I’ll have time to send it to you before it’s due. Either way, I think you’ll really like it.

Also, I’m bringing my camera on tour so I can capture all of our cute couple moments and make a montage. I cannot wait for that either. I’ve never even been on a plane before and now I’m flying across the world to see the love of my life. It’s like a fairytale, it really, really is.

I think it would be AMAZING to go to Ilsan and meet your family (and your dog!!). I’ve been wanting to meet them for basically forever. Your sister sounds super cool. And I think it’s adorable that you kiss the Petoskey stone every night but because you think it’s embarrassing, I’m definitely going to tease you about it.

Lily and Grace are helping me re-dye my hair tonight so it’ll be nice and fresh and bright pink for you. I’ll be sure to send you lots of messy selfies of the process because honestly, it’s hilarious, and you’ll be awake anyway.

I love you so, so, so much,

-(Y/N)”

***

“Hyung, are you sure you want to do this?” Jungkook held the brush over the little bowl, hot pink dye dripping from the bristles. “It’s not too late to go back.”

“I’m sure.” Namjoon nodded. He was seated on the toilet lid, a towel draped around his shoulders, hair newly bleached. “Jin-hyung always does whatever he wants with his hair.”

“And then he gets yelled at.” Jimin laughed.

“I want to match. It’ll probably only last a few days anyway. Pink washes out quick.”

“I should know.” Jungkook shook his head, memories of his brief stint of magenta resurfacing.

“Just do it.” Namjoon sat up a little straighter.

Jungkook looked to Jimin and Taehyung, who each shrugged as if to say ‘hey, it’s his funeral’, and then brushed the dye onto Namjoon’s bleached-blond hair. Well, there really wasn’t any going back now.

***

Namjoon ruffled through his very, very pink hair, smiling at himself. God, he was an idiot in love. The things he did for you… And yet, staring at his reflection, he had no regrets. In fact, he would do it again just to see the look on your face.

Speaking of which…

His phone was ringing. Shit. Shit. God, he had to answer it, didn’t he? And of course it was a FaceTime from the one person who couldn’t know he had pink hair yet.

Looking around his room, he grabbed the first hat he could find, a black beanie, and slipped it onto his head to cover up the new hair. Then, he plopped down into his chair and hit accept call.

“Hey baby.” He let the words roll out, all casual. As though he hadn’t just dried off his hot pink hair.

“Hey Joon, what’s up?”

I just dyed my hair hot pink, so there’s that… “Not much. Working on some songs and stuff. You?”

“I just woke up and I missed your handsome face.”

“Well aren’t I lucky? God, I missed your voice.”

“What’s up with the hat?” You smirked, looking at the black beanie hastily thrown on top of his hair. “I mean, it’s cute, but…”

“It’s uh...”

“Oh, new hair. Alright, got it.” You dragged your pinched fingers across your lips, zipping them shut. “No leaks here.”

“Thank you, jagi.” He breathed in relief, watching as your adorable features twisted in curiosity.

“It does, however, make me wonder…” You trailed off, tapping your lip with a little pink-painted finger.

“No sneak-peeks, baby. I’m sorry.”

You pouted, pretending to be upset. “Okayyyyyy…” Immediately, you brightened. “Guess what!”

“What?”

“We learned a dance in my K-Pop club the other day and guess what song it was.”

“I’m stumped.” He grinned, tilting his head, waiting for you to spout whatever BTS song you and your friends had learned.

“We learned Baepsae and I got to learn your part!”

“Awwwwww that’s so cute!”

You nodded excitedly. “It was so fun. I can’t wait to show you.”

“I can’t wait to see.”

“How many days until I get to see you?”

“A week, baby.” A lie. Perhaps the first Namjoon had ever told you. He hoped the pet name he used would cover it up well enough. After all, you shared a soul. Maybe you could tell when he was lying to you, even if it was a little innocent lie like this one.

“Ughhhhhhh that’s seven days too many.”

“I agree.”

“I want to kiss you so bad, Namjoon.” You groaned. “I need to be in your arms. Immediately.”

“I know, baby. Believe me, I know.” Though the four months had gone by, it wasn’t like it hadn’t hurt him to have to wait and wait and wait. The temptation to come see you over your Spring Break was almost crippling, and had he not had to do promotions, he would have been on a plane ages ago. “But it’s soon now. I love you a lot, alright?”

“I love you a lot too.” You nodded, watching the way his dimple poked in when he smiled softly at your words.

Namjoon yawned and stretched. “Alright, jagiya, I have an early morning tomorrow, so I have to get some sleep now. But I love you so much and I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“I love you too.”

And then he hung up, grinning. You had no idea what was coming for you in the next few days...

Tagged: @iie-wakarimasen, @ffantasylandd, @jooniefluff, @chimchimsauce, @mrs-saeyoung-choi, @theprinceoftheundead, @angyexoxo, @copenhagenspirit, @lovelylittlekittn, @lilgaga98, @iminlovewjjk, @feed-my-geek-soul, @loveandwitch, @recoveringflowerchild, @demonic-meatball, @maddieisaacs, @scissorsandtonfas, @carirosesg, @backtonormalthings, @local-mochi, @faliwi, @spoopyela, @nanie5, @ingenu--e, @undiscovered1personality, @andalos, @calspixie, @filtermono, @huhuehuey, @mikey-girl12, @lilliaflurr, @hypophrenium, @sitkafay, @spiicyari, @andeerwilson, @btswerewolfaus, @oyasumi7, @mycurrentusernameisalreadytaken, @gangstavixsta

#kpopwonderlandtag #armyofwriters #namjoon #namjoon x reader #namjoon imagine #bts #bts imagine #signed sealed delivered #soulmate au #namjoon fluff #bts fluff

259 notes · View notes

noona-clock · 6 years

Text

Please Come Home for Christmas 🙏

Genre: Star Trek!AU

Pairing: Jae x You

By Admin B

Bells will be ringing the sad, sad news Oh, what a Christmas to have the blues My baby's gone, I have no friends To wish me greetings once again

Jae nodded at the man outside of the grocery store, shoving his hands in his coat pockets and wordlessly walking right past him, in through the sliding doors.

Those bell-ringers had been around for centuries, apparently, and if history was to be believed, about as many people ignored them now as they did back then.

Personally, Jae just couldn’t stand the sound of those jingle bells. Not this year, anyway.

Because you were gone. You’d been on assignment on the USS Billings for almost eight months now, and you wouldn’t be back on Earth for another four or five.

And, as it turned out, almost everyone Jae knew was either in another country visiting family or on another planet for whatever reason.

(gif by @cramelot)

So here he was. Alone at Christmas time. And it sucked.

He would never blame you, of course, because Star Fleet was your job. Not only that, it was your dream. It had been before the two of you met, and it would probably always be.

You assured him over and over that he was also your dream, a new one you’d acquired not too long after meeting him and realizing how special he was. But when you’d learned from Commander Janeway that the USS Billings would be going out to explore moon volcanoes... you hadn’t been able to resist. Even though it meant a little over a year away from Jae, the love of your life.

He had promised you multiple times he would be fine. He would miss you like crazy, but he would be fine knowing you were doing what you loved, what made you happy.

But, still. Those jingle bells were really starting to depress him. Maybe he would be fine again once Christmas was over, but... right now, he kind of wasn’t.

Choirs will be singing Silent Night Christmas carols by candlelight Please come home for Christmas Please come home for Christmas If not for Christmas, by New Year's night

The longest, most exhausted sounding sigh escaped Jae’s lips as he plopped down onto the couch. He’d finished putting all the groceries away (it really was no fun going grocery shopping by and for yourself), and he could now enjoy the ready-made Cardassian Zabu stew he’d just purchased.

“All right, what’ve we got tonight?” he murmured to himself before saying, “Computer, turn the television on.”

The last thing Jae watched on TV was the morning news, so the television turned on to one of the major networks. Tonight, apparently, they were airing a Christmas special.

Great. Just what Jae needed to get his mind off the fact he was completely and entirely alone for Christmas.

Before he could change the channel, though, a choir began singing ‘Silent Night.’

Oh, god. This was your favorite Christmas carol.

You were completely tone deaf so you couldn’t sing it in the least, but you made Jae sing it. And you always sat there and listened with the most adoring gaze, a soft smile pulling at your lips. No matter how many times he sang it for you, it never seemed to get old.

The choir on TV were singing an acapella version, all of them holding hologram candles and singing with such emotion.

Emotion that Jae could definitely feel.

I mean, he felt emotion on a regular basis, of course. But you know what I mean.

Why couldn’t you just come home for Christmas? Just one day? Or even New Year’s?! If he could have one day with you for the holiday season, he knew that would be enough to help him get through it.

Friends and relations send salutations Sure as the stars shine above This is Christmas, yeah, Christmas, my dear The time of year to be with the one you love

“Computer, check the mail,” Jae requested once the front door closed behind him.

That was one thing he’d had to get used to after you’d left.

Usually, you were home from work before him, so you’d already gone through the mail by the time he arrived. If there was anything for him, you’d let him know, and he would go in and look himself.

It had taken him at least three weeks to remember to check the mail every day right when he walked in the door. And even then, he still forgot sometimes.

It was truly the little things like that he missed the most. The things he took for granted like you checking the mail.

The computer pulled up a hologram screen and showed a couple of bills, some junk mail, and... about three Christmas greeting cards. One from his aunt and uncle who now lived on Bajor, one from your college roommate over in South Africa, and one from your dentist.

Okay, so that last card didn’t quite pull at his heartstrings, but still. Just the fact he was receiving Christmas cards, and you weren’t here to look at them...

I mean, it’s not like he expected people to not send him cards. You were on a Starship in the Beta Quadrant; you were still alive, thank God. It was a very normal thing to do. The two of you had sent out your own Christmas card last year, and while Jae had been tempted to just send the same one again, he’d finally decided not to. He just wasn’t feeling it this year, so why pretend?

He didn’t want to make it seem like he was spending the holiday with the one he loved when he actually wasn’t. He shouldn’t have to act like everything was fine when it actually wasn’t.

It really just do be like that sometimes.

So won't you tell me you'll never more roam Christmas and New Years will find you home Please come home for Christmas Please come home for Christmas If not for Christmas, by New Year's night

Right after he paid the bills which had come through in the mail, another hologram screen popped up over the kitchen counter.

Incoming Call from the USS Billings

Jae’s heart started to race, and he said, “Computer, answer call,” immediately.

Your smiling face appeared, and he was instantly relieved to know it wasn’t a call from your Captain or from the Chief Medical Officer.

“Hey, you,” you greeted. “I’m sorry I haven’t called in a few days, it got a little rocky up here.”

“Everything’s okay?” Jae asked with raised eyebrows.

“It is now,” you explained. “A few people got hurt on an away mission a couple days ago, but I think everything’s settled down now.”

Jae couldn’t stop himself from letting out a little sigh of relief. He was sorry anyone had gotten hurt, but he was glad it hadn’t been you.

The two of you got to talking, filling each other in on what had been going on... but then you suddenly furrowed your brow.

“Are you okay?” you asked gently.

“Yeah, I’m good,�� Jae replied automatically.

But, obviously, you didn’t believe him. You knew him well enough to know when he wasn’t “good.”

“What’s wrong?” you urged.

Jae’s gaze flitted off to the side, and his jaw clenched slightly. He’d wanted to put up a good front for you since there was literally nothing you could do about it, but...

“I just... miss you.”

You let out a soft sigh, the expression on your face turning into one of complete guilt and concern and anxiety and sorrow.

“I miss you, too,” you assured him. “You don’t know how often I think about you... worry about you.”

“I bet I do know because I think and worry about you just as much.”

A soft, sad smile tugged at your lips. “The mission is more than halfway over. I’ll be home before you know it.”

“I know,” Jae sighed. “It’s just... Christmas. It’s lonelier than I thought it would be.”

You pressed your lips together in a thin line, and now it was your turn to look off to the side of the hologram camera.

“No, baby,” Jae said quickly, now feeling terrible that he was about to make you cry. “I’m sorry, I didn’t --”

“If I could be there on Christmas Day, I would,” you choked out. “In a heartbeat.”

“I know, baby. I’m not blaming you. I’m not even upset with you, it just --”

“Sucks.”

“...Yeah.”

A heavy silence filled the room for a few moments, but you broke it by taking a deep breath in.

“I’ll call you on Christmas, okay? I’ll call you whenever I can. We probably won’t get much done on here, anyway, since I know I’m not the only one missing their family.”

Even though Jae’s expression had been utterly solemn, the words which had just left your lips had brought a smile to his face.

One word, in particular, actually.

Family.

You’d called him your family, even though you two were technically still just dating.

He wasn’t really sure why this made his heart soar, but it did, and he was going to try and ride it out for as long as he could.

“Okay,” he nodded, feeling more optimistic than he had in a while. But he shouldn’t be surprised. It was you, after all. “I’ll be here. But don’t worry if you don’t get a chance. I understand.”

“I know you do,” you gushed. “That’s why you’re so amazing. But, trust me, I will call you. No matter what.”

There'll be no more sorrow, no grief and pain And I'll be happy, happy once again

Did Jae feel absolutely, totally, 100% better when he hung up? No.

His heart still ached for you. He still wished he wasn’t alone on Christmas. He knew he would be so much happier when you got home, safe and sound.

But he would get through it. Because he had no other choice. That’s just how life was: it has its ups and downs, and sometimes the only thing you can do during the downs is to just get through it. Keep on living life day-to-day and hold onto the hope things would get better.

And, sometimes, those downs just happened to be during Christmas.

Like I said, it really just do be like that sometimes.

211 notes · View notes