#i think the countless hours I have spent watching any and all related content with him has solidified this for the past couple months lol

[starlit-roses-ships]

before i change my theme to suit my current f/o fixation i suppose now is a good a time to mention that asta.rion from bg3 is an f/o now lol 😅

[memryse]

The magic of 3rd Life, or why such a simple hardcore miniseries works as well as it does

For a series which only lasted for eight sessions, 3rd Life has had a profound impact on the MCYT fandom. While it did go comparatively unnoticed on Twitter (as is consistent with YouTube-based Minecraft content as a whole, admittedly), Tumblr and other platforms have fallen in love with this series, and it’s become a vector for many fans to familiarise themselves with Hermitcraft and Empires SMP as well. But at its core, 3rd Life is a simple vanilla survival series with a gimmick. What about it resonates so much with so many people?

I would argue that its simplicity, its small cast, its vanilla gameplay “with a twist” is certainly part of it. It’s an easy series to consume, with many POVs totalling four hours or less, and it doesn’t require any prior knowledge of any of the members. Its mechanics are easy to understand. As a standalone, it functions perfectly – it’s immersive and can be followed easily by anyone, regardless of any prior knowledge they may or may not have. However, these factors alone don’t quite encompass what makes 3rd Life so special. Its true charm point lies in the format of the series, and how well it utilises improv.

[more below the cut; this is a fairly long post about 3rd/Last Life meta and my love of its improv. I'm mostly talking about 3rd Life here as it's a completed series, but this most definitely does apply to Last Life as well]

3rd Life is an entirely improv-based series. Whilst members may have a brief concept of the direction they’d like to take their series in – how heavily they want to roleplay, for example – the actual content of each session is fully improvised. Each episode is recorded in one three-hour block, and members are not allowed to play on the server outside of the allotted time other than specifically to finish builds. This time constraint prevents any planning from going into each episode, and interactions between players are completely spontaneous. Players simply run around the map looking for others to interact with (which is significantly easier with the limited world border) and chat about various events on the server, form alliances or deals, etc.

By definition, this almost completely negates the possibility of bad writing. Each player’s reaction to any server event is spontaneous, a legitimate reaction; they aren’t trying to play any specific roles or shoehorn in any specific events (with the exception of the Red King/Hand of the King roles, who were still completely improvising). Even the finale – a distinctly heart-wrenching and tragic scene – was improvised without Grian or Scar attempting to tell any specific story. According to Martyn, they weren’t roleplaying, they didn’t have any aims with that scene. It just happened to turn out in the way that it did, and they were legitimately sorry to one another. The server progressed in this natural way, and every person’s perspective tells a completely different story. It’s hard to identify any specific heroes or villains – fans of the Dream SMP can surely relate to this feeling, but I would argue that 3rd Life takes this one step further. 3rd Life is a tragedy from all perspectives, a tragedy which tells one cohesive story in its entirety before stopping as abruptly as it began.

3rd Life hinges entirely on its interactions between its members. Whilst solo content does exist – base building, for example – the majority of each session is spent interacting with others. 3rd Life is carried by its dialogue; nothing else drives the story, and yet many episodes are between 30 minutes and an hour long. It’s that dialogue-heavy. Members of the server have expressed trouble with even editing their videos because there is so much key dialogue that they don’t want to cut. People don’t watch 3rd Life for the actual gameplay, at all – there’s so little of it! They watch it for how each member interacts with the people around them. This is something not found in any other SMP I’ve encountered. SMPs livestreamed on Twitch have plenty of downtime, and people will happily watch streams on that SMP no matter what’s occurring on the server; people often watch them for their interest in specific members. Other currently popular YouTube SMPs, namely Hermitcraft and Empires, are well-balanced between solo content and interactions, and all server content hinges on the members’ various skills like building and redstone. 3rd Life is, to my knowledge, the only SMP which does not rely on building or redstone skills (what’s the point, when they’ll be dead the next week?), it doesn’t rely on the creator doing solo work talking to their chat, it doesn’t rely on planned roleplay. People legitimately just want to hear various members talking to each other. It’s a fascinatingly unique series in this regard. This dialogue-heavy aspect of 3rd Life ties back to my earlier point about 3rd Life feeling like a completely different series from all perspectives; with all of this dialogue being conveyed through proximity chat, so many events are entirely left out of other POVs, or presented in very different lights.

The pure improv format also helps significantly with worldbuilding, whilst also leaving plenty to the imagination. MCYT fandoms always require a significant amount of imagination to become invested in them, let alone make fan content of them, and 3rd Life is no exception to this. As discussed in this post, which was incidentally the inspiration for me to write this one, 3rdLife is full of lines which flesh out the series, which illustrate what happened better than can be shown in Minecraft. These lines are improvised on the spot, and are often complete throwaway lines in the creators’ eyes. In the fans’ eyes, they make 3rd Life feel alive, they provide plenty of material on which to base headcanons. Again, this isn’t necessarily unique to 3rd Life, it’s a common aspect of all Minecraft series, but I think this is where the rather angsty nature of 3rd Life comes into play. A dramatic survival game, entirely unscripted, with all events hinging entirely on your interpretation of them? It’s not hard to see why 3rd Life fans are so creative with character designs and fanfiction – hell, a lot of 3rd Life fics simply narrate canon in their own more dramatic light. Canon-compliant fics are significantly more common for 3rd Life than other fandoms I've encountered, because people hear these simple lines and want to dramatise them, put their own spins on them. I don't feel that this would be possible with any other series, not to the extent that 3rd Life fans do it. Other series' canon is either already dramatic, and so rehashing it can feel repetitive, or so lighthearted that people write AUs/new storylines. 3rd Life strikes a brand-new balance.

The development of its characters is also bolstered by improv. As no events on the server are pre-planned, members have to react completely spontaneously to anything that occurs. They don’t get time to think – only to react as though they genuinely were in that situation. As I said at the start, 3rd Life inherently lacks bad writing, because it’s not written. Ren, for instance, began 3rd Life as a kind and harmless person, with others often walking right over him. His reaction to his death by Grian and Scar’s trap spurs him to become the Red King; he raises an army and goes to war, and ends the series having taken countless lives, becoming hardened by war. He begins Last Life by isolating himself from others, seeming jaded and unwilling to form alliances, ready for another war to break out. Being improvised, it’s impossible to say how much of this was deliberate, or if Ren just started building his base without thinking about continuity from the previous season. This improv is what makes it feel so natural. It isn’t planned beforehand. This is Ren’s natural reaction to starting Last Life. It makes his character feel so much more real than it would if this was all scripted beforehand.

3rd Life is, overall, a testament to the power of improv. It manages to be compelling and dramatic without any acting feeling forced or wooden. Its characters’ arcs feel natural, because they are natural. Placing such a heavy emphasis on dialogue, with the gimmick of the server being a vehicle for interactions to happen rather than the sole appeal of the series, makes it truly feel as though we’re getting a glimpse into the characters’ lives, rather than watching a story which has been written beforehand. We get to watch everything unfold in real time. 3rd Life has a magic to it that, to my knowledge, no other SMP has been able to recreate.

[kanmom51]

Hi Kanmom! No question today just some thoughts after reading about anons ideas around the editing of ITS2. The funny thing about ITS2 is we know they filmed for 100hours but we are only going to see about 14hours depending on the length of the Behind episodes. That leaves 86 hours of content that they deemed too boring or not appropriate for us to see even though most of us would be happy to watch members read or nap for hours, right?

It’s laughable to think BigHit/HYBE are not Ot7. It’s in their best interest to show each individual member at their best/funniest/relatable selves. Its also important to protect their privacy. It’s not in their best interest to out any members as lgbtq on a show that is being aired on network tv to the general public in SK. We also know they want to make money and if they had more footage that was interesting enough to air, while also being appropriate to air, they would have, because more episodes is more money, even if it’s just for product placement and marketing their merch. But no, we only get a few hours. Think about that. 86 hours were not appropriate to air. Those little pics and cuts of Jikook are little nods to keep them authentic to themselves and to the fans that KNOW while keeping BTS safe from being cancelled and dropped from networks and advertisers.

People need to remember that BTS are WORKING while making this show. This is a reality show and not real life. Are they friends who are as close as family? Yes. But if you were on a four day trip with friends you would all probably be making calls, taking meds, going to the bathroom, telling dirty jokes, talking about family and friends, describing things you did, telling personal stories, confiding about stresses or worries, etc. We see NONE of that and for good reason.

The thought that HYBE is intentionally victimizing a member is laughable when each member is a huge star that the entire company relies on to be successful. Does the company flirt with ships? I think so a little. But there is one ship no one publicly names and who gets cut a lot. There is so much content they can’t cut everything out. I this season we see the result of obvious cuts that were too risky to show. Jikookers are complaining that they’ve been “robbed” but I think if you learn to read between the cuts you will have all you need. Let’s hope we see a little more in the behind episodes since they don’t air on tv. But I’m not holding my breath! Thanks for letting me rant if you read this far!

Hey anon, you are very welcome. :)

I agree with you that at times you can learn much more from the cuts than the actual content that makes it's way in. And we know the moments were cut, because, low and behold, they themselves let us know those moments happened but were chosen to be cut.

Now just think this - the ramen joke made it's way in. Not to the tv cannels, but it did find it's way to the Weverse episode. But them working out together didn't. Them riding together didn't. JK footage and full audio of waking JM up didn't.

Also, you say 100 hrs. of footage, I say hundreds of hours. There are way more than 7 cameras all over the lot. Several angled cameras in the main building and rooms, camera men following them around, cameras in their rooms and bedrooms. Hundreds of hours of footage. Just think that one episode is an hour and a half at most showing more or less a time span of 24 hrs. Do the math - 24 times 7 (members alone, not including the countless other cameras around) is 168 hrs. of footage. Granted this included hours they are asleep (well, some of them), but we are literally talking about hundreds of hours of footage for a 24 hr. time span, from which they have to edit an hour and a half episode.

The idea behind this more or less wholesome show is to show ot7, their connections with each other, relationships, more or less how they spend time relaxing. Saying that, JM himself said that he spent his relaxing time differently during ITS2 (being more active than he would be normally). It's a show, a reality show. I don't think they are fabricating interactions between the members, but I do think they are showing the moments they want us to see (like JK cooking for Tae, or Tae playing with Bam, while kind of not showing us JM's interactions with Bam too much). They are being careful, and definitely not showing us what they deem we shouldn't see (like JK waking up JM).

[izzyizumi]

{Pretends to be Shocked TM at how close it sounds.}

From the official (U.S. dub based/produced) {NOT written by Jeff Nimoy, FYI, And Yet} [still-official] guidebook: [Note: It’s written from “Tai”’s point of view!]:

“Izzy might be the smartest kid I know. And there’s really only one way to describe him - Izzy’s a computer nerd. One of the first questions I ever heard him ask about {the} DigiWorld was, {Dub version}: “Do you have Internet access?” He carries his laptop computer with him everywhere he goes.”

{Digimon P.S.P Game}:

{Sub version[s]}: (Huh, what a strange coincidence):

“{Dub version-implied} CDs make him think about information storage, not his favorite rock band. But I have to give the little runt a hand - he’s pretty brave, and his understanding of computers sure has come in handy in this digital world.”

{Sub version} [+02 Epilogue!]:

[from the Digimon Adventure official novels] (written by Adventure+02 head director/writer Hiroyuki Kakudou; Hiro Masaki, Koushiro’s main writer, also contributed about 1/3rd due to having experience in writing screenplays, thus, Kakudou asked him for help on it):

(Pictured Above: the one part of my diagnosis I’m actually comfortable sharing. That’s because other parts of it are private medical info y’know.): [Pictured below: my original Digi-T.C.G. collection. [Most still on hand] Still in original folder from childhood at time were my V.H.S. tape Bonus cards with the 1st 7 Chosen, as Kari was not included]: (Do you see some of the wear on the folder?)

“{Name} spent the entire time closed up in {their} room on the computer. Digimon and P.O.K.E.M.O.N are {their} passion. {They} spend countless hours on the computer writing stories about the Digimon characters. {They} have encyclopedia knowledge regarding these characters,”

[2020 reboot!Koushiro {even} knowing completely Unnecessary TM encyclopedia-like knowledge about WALTZING!!! of all things]

[“Your valued possessions”] {See: Autistic Koushiro series} [SPECIAL Interests + {Possible} Protectiveness over them]

(Multiple times, even in the 2020 version; Koushiro acting possessive over computers/tech and/or tablet):

“...has collected all the cards, and could talk incessantly about Digimon if a listener allowed. {Blanked out for private medical info reasons} most children are...”

{See: Posts relevant to formal speech patterns} [x] [x] [x] [Koushiro in the original version is also implied to speak using ‘formal’-esque Japanese speech.]

(Sora: “What about you, Koushiro-kun?” Koushiro: “Y-Yes!” [“H-Hai!”] {only light stammer being suddenly addressed, then firm): “I’ve always believed in Taichi-san before this, in any case.”)

“...over, never talks on the phone and is difficult to even take to the shopping mall unless {they} are going to purchase a Digimon item. If {they} are allowed to, {they} would spend the whole weekend watching taped Digimon and {PKMN} shows, and writing stories on the computer.”

“{Name} is perfectly content not having to interact with the outside world.”

SO YEAH. IF IZZY - or (Sub version TOO) Koushiro - was ever a character you HEAVILY (in any series!!) RELATED to - you might want to look into (if wanted!) an Autism diagnosis, because they sure thought I WAS. (The above was my middle school ‘evaluation’ that led to my eventual re-confirmed/re-evaluated diagnosis.) Thank you for your time!! Hope this can help someone / any Digimon fans!!!! (You’re welcome)

{Some Digi-Fans @ Me: ‘Explain Koushiro Izumi!!!1!’ mE: “ YOU ASKED!!!1! ”}

{ALL GIFS/PICS BY ME} {DO NOT re-post} [DO NOT re-post my diagnosis copies outside of this post] [I. WILL. KNOW] {PLEASE ASK TO USE, I spent some 5~+ years compiling them all!}

[beyondspaceandstars]

While You Sleep

Chapter 8

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: fluff, mentions of violence Summary: Soulmate!AU - Throughout life, you’re given glimpses of your soulmate through dreams. As you sleep, memories flash in your mind showing you the life your soulmate has lived. Everyone around you raves about how their soulmate reads great books or volunteers in their spare time. But you can’t relate as your dreams end up being more like nightmares. Through initial images of death and violence, you come to learn your soulmate is the Winter Soldier. 

(a/n: i promise i have other writings in the work outside this fic kdsfjlajdf i maybe have part 2 of ‘Around Your Neck’ coming up............)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

You spent the rest of your night trying to redial Bucky’s number. Every single time you just got his voicemail, eventually filling it to the max with pleas for him to call you back. You apologized countless times through texts, begging him to not feel bad and to let you two sit down and discuss it.

But he had really gone radio silence. 

The only real beacon of hope for you was that you could still feel him. You still felt that attachment, the connection of soulmates. He hadn’t totally pushed you out, at least. That was all you could see as far as positives. 

As you went to bed that night, the darkness of the situation was still encompassing you. Even the world seemed to be upset with it as the second you laid your head down, it began storming. 

You fell asleep to sounds of rain hitting the windows and thunder booming across the city. The nightmares engulfed you once more with no signs of your Bucky making appearances this time. Instead, the feelings of dread ran through your body. Bone, skin, blood, and all. It was like an old friend coming to visit. 

The images were nearly the same as well as the asset was back using his knives and terrorizing unsuspecting victims. You couldn’t fight but why would you? You felt lost and defeated as you were engrossed in the metaphorical trenches of the life and missions of the Winter Soldier.

***

You had only been asleep for a few hours when your phone started ringing. Slightly thankful the sound pulled you awake before you had to see another man slaughtered, you jumped up from your bed, diving for the phone. 

The screen shone brightly in the dark of night. It was him. You nearly cried out as you hit ‘accept.’

“Bucky?”

“Can you let me in?” His voice was slowly getting drowned out by the rain. You frowned, confused.

Heading to your front door, you popped your head out, looking down the stairs at the building’s entrance. Bucky was staring at the ground outside. “What are you doing?”

“Waiting for you to let me in.” He finally looked up, meeting your eyes through the glassdoor. It was not exactly a pretty sight. He looked tormented standing there damp from the rain. You couldn’t speak, just nodded and hung up. Without much care for your current state, draped in an oversized t-shirt and sleeping shorts, you ran down the stairs. 

Once you unlocked the door, Bucky entered the lobby without so much of a glance at you. Wordlessly, you walked back up the stairs to your apartment, letting Bucky follow.

You introduced him to your apartment, showing him the couch where he could take a seat. This certainly was not how you expected his first time in your home would be but you didn’t have much time to mourn it. 

You opted to stay standing, watching as Bucky shifted uncomfortably. He wouldn't look at you yet but you could feel the anger radiating from him. You didn’t know what to do now.

“D-Do y-you want any water or something?” 

Bucky shook his head. “I’m sorry I hung up on you.”

Sighing, you said, “I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“I know, I know,” He insisted, sounding so defeated. He leaned back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling, contemplating. “It’s just… After yesterday morning, I thought I understood what you…you had seen but I didn’t want to accept it, okay? I didn’t want to think it was true. I wanted to believe that my fucking soulmate was learning the better things about me. Actual things about me, not...not that goddamn monster they created.”

A familiar ache came over you hearing his words. This must’ve been really a lot for him if he finally said the word. You didn’t even have time to celebrate it.

You couldn’t help yourself as you crossed the living room and took a seat next to him on the couch like something was actually pulling you to him. He was still staring at the ceiling while you turned towards him, fingers uncontrollably fiddling in nervousness. 

“I didn’t want to tell you,” you admitted. “At first they were everything in my life, inescapable. The nightmares-,”

Bucky cut you off with a scoff. “Nightmares.”

You frowned. “I’m sorry, I know that’s unfair to you for me to describe them like that but they weren’t exactly pleasant,” you said. “The nightmares were everywhere and...and the feelings, the images… Even just tonight they-,”

His head whipped towards you. “You still have them?”

“Bucky, you need to let me speak.” He nodded and you tried to collect yourself before continuing, “Everything, from the emotions to the images of those terrifying things, hit me hard, and while, yes, it’s scary and it’s been scary for a very, very long time… I don’t think it should completely matter. I can’t change them - you certainly can’t change them - and they definitely do not represent the man sitting next to me in any way, shape, or form.”

Bucky's hard expression got softer at your reassurance. You had told him this yesterday morning but you felt now you were actually getting somewhere. You were getting your thoughts out there and maybe, just maybe, he’d accept them as facts.

His tone was rough but his words were soft as he began to speak again. “I told you that while you’re with me you won’t ever be hurt or have to worry.” You nodded, remembering the promise in passing. “So it kills me that I can’t fix this. I-I didn’t know about all that, really, and it’s hard realizing you’ve had to deal with consequences from my actions. You don’t deserve this, you don’t deserve anything like this.”

You tried to muster up a small smile, trying to assure Bucky you were okay. He didn’t look convinced, though. 

“It’s not ideal, no,” you shrugged, “but it’s leading me to you, so, maybe there’s something in it. I think Fate knows what it’s doing, at least most of the time.”

A little smile just barely formed on Bucky’s lips. It wasn’t much but at least he didn’t look like he was ready to punch a wall in your already run-down apartment. 

“Besides, it’s not all bad,” you continued, wanting to at least bring something positive to this conservation. Bucky raised his brows, curiously. “I did have a nice dream that night after dinner. I saw you reading.”

He looked almost relieved. “I guess all we can do is hope those continue.” A beat. “I’m amazed you even allowed me in your apartment.” 

Your jaw went slack, unsure of where this statement was coming from. “Well of course I do. Why wouldn’t I want that?”

Bucky turned away and that rough look of his came back. Your attempts to lighten everything were taking a nosedive apparently, but you couldn’t ask him to avoid or suppress his feelings. You guessed it was better to get these things out in the open.

Bucky eventually asked, “How can you just be okay with everything?” 

This time, you looked away, turning to look out the window opposite of you two. The rain was still coming down steadily. “You haven’t really given me a reason to not be okay with everything.”

Your words were bold, the conversation was bold, and to keep with the theme, you boldly grabbed his hand to hold. You ran your thumb over the back of it in circular motions, trying to calm him. He didn’t pull away, thankfully. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I-I get nervous about all this.”

You chuckled softly, “Me too.”

Bucky hummed, contently. He leaned in a bit closer to you and gave your hand a squeeze. You shifted into his side, wrapping your other hand around his arm, accepting the closeness of you two. 

You decided to break the comfortable silence, trying your magic once again to carry a brighter conversation. “Why didn’t you tell Steve about us?”

Unexpectedly, Bucky chuckled lowly at the question. Your interest peaked greatly. 

“Forgive me if I just want to explore all this new territory with you and only you.” 

“New territory?”

You didn’t have to look at him to know he was rolling his eyes. “You just want me to say it again.”

You let out a fake, dramatic gasp. “James, you’re ridiculous.”

You heard him chuckle. His body shifted slightly closer to you. “I want to explore this… this soulmate thing with you. Only you. At least for now. Down the line, I have no problem showing you off but for now… It’s us.”

Soulmate. Us. 

The words rang happily in your ears. Now it really felt real. Him acknowledging it truly, wholeheartedly, and not just in the heat of an argument made shivers run through your body. 

“Us,” you repeated, a goofy grin unable to be suppressed came about on your lips. “I’m okay with that.” You let out a bit of a dreamy sigh. “You know, this all feels really new and really old at the same time.”

Bucky chuckled, “I think that’s how these things work, right?” His other hand came to lay on top of yours gently. “We feel like we’ve known each other for years because, well, I think in some twisted way we kind of have.”

You contemplated the idea, realizing you felt that very deeply. You had and had not known him for almost your whole life. While Bucky wasn’t in the exact form you learned about him in, there was something within him, the actual him, you felt you knew like the back of your hand. 

“We need to go out again,” you finally said, worried continuing with such sentiments would make you emotional for the millionth time tonight. Bucky seemed to welcome this change.

“Are you asking me out on a second date, sweetheart?”

Butterflies filled your stomach. “Well, you weren’t making any move to do it,” you shrugged, shooting Bucky a playful look. He responded with a dramatic eye roll. 

“Maybe I like a woman who takes charge,” he said, shooting you an award-winning, knowing smirk. 

You gasped, your neck suddenly getting hot. Actually, you felt much of yourself getting warm from the little innuendo hidden within his tone. Words were suddenly getting lost on your tongue as your brain short-circuited. You mumbled, “A second date could definitely be fun.”

Bucky let out a room-filling laugh at your sudden nervousness. The twinkle in his eyes told you he would enjoy making these little teasing comments to you from now on. 

“How about tomorrow night, doll? Good night for a second date, don’t you think? Assuming you actually want to see me after tonight’s fiasco.”

You nodded, ignoring his self-deprecation. You couldn’t talk it out of him so actions maybe had to speak louder. “What should we do?”

Bucky waved a hand in dismissal. “You let me handle it. I’ll surprise you.”

“I thought you liked it when a woman took charge?” Now your smirk was just as evil and mischievous. Bucky raised his brows in surprise but rolled with it. He had quite the silver tongue you found. 

“Sure do,” he said, “but a man still has to make sure he takes care of his lady, too.”

You giggled and cozied up into his side, very much enjoying the sound of that. “Fine. Take the reins, Bucky.”

[ickymichi]

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐀𝐖𝐀 𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐈 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒:

𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

<3 warning: none really! just slight mentions of nsfw but nothing brutal, swearing, v slight angst, mentions of insecurity.

<3 things to know!: set in the timeskip, unless i’m like ‘this was back in high school’. (implied female) reader and issei are in an established relationship.

<3 summary!: headcannons i have about issei and his appearance/body. :)

<3 a/n: see i genuinely had no idea what to call this. like it’s headcannons that i have about issei’s appearance/body?. and also to make some of the things named more normalised and to make ppl see how attractive they make ppl. reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

all contents belongs to hotboyissei 2021. please do not repost or modify on this or any other platform.

𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐄𝐒: listen to this okay. issei with freckles on his shoulders. beautiful i know. but just imagine it. those nice broad shoulders with thousands of freckles scattered across them from years of tanning and getting sunburned on the beach while on holidays or just from the numerous summers he spent in your backyard getting a tan. just running your hands across them seeing how some of them connected to form a bigger one. he always tells you it tickles. but never says stop. also in summer he gets them on his face from the sun.

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐒: he definitely had them on like the part of his back where his arm meets his shoulders, on the under side of his biceps and definitely got some on his ass cause boy got cake. but he’s insecure about them and used to hate wearing tank tops cause you could see them. but you told him how much you love them and how cool they look. now mf thinks he’s hot shit (as he should) and walks around your house in them or just shirtless. if you have some to he would literally always be telling you how attractive it is. literally constantly.

𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑: he definitely is on the hairier side. like he got hairy ass legs let me tell you, but it thins out when it gets to his thighs a bit. definitely waxes or shaves his ass idc idc, was scared from this one time he was watching porn and it just got a shot of the guys hairy ass and he was disgusted. but also he got like, not a lot to where he has to constantly wax it, but a nice amount of chest hair, like it’s only on his pecs not on his stomach you know?. side story!: it was like, two months after you started dating and you were having a movie night at his and you were staying over. makki convinced, i mean convinced him you were going to have sex for the first time. so issei being afraid you’d think his chest hair is unattractive he booked a chest wax and made makki come with him. he recorded the whole thing and showed you two years later, big bad matsukawa issei himself, screaming from pain and nearly breaking makki’s hand with the grip he had on it. end of side story :). his happy trail? pheww that shit idky it’s just attractive to me for some reason. also has a bit of stubble but he shaves it cause of one time in third year he was just really lazy that week and didn’t shave and when the four of them went to go to the cinema on saturday oikawa said: “who’s uncles coming our way?”. from then on he never goes out with to them without shaving beforehand. if you tell him you find it attractive he’d grow it out a small bit just to see your reaction. but if you said you don’t like it he’d do it anyway to annoy you.

𝐀𝐂𝐍𝐄: high school issei definitely had acne. not like major but had some on his cheeks and his back. he hated it sm cause all his friends never had a problem with it. until you told him it doesn’t matter if he has it for not he’s still seggsy as fuck. now timeskip issei? not as much. he made sure to start taking care of his skin halfway through high school. that is until masks became a thing, poor guy has a love hate relationship with them now.

𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆: listen, issei eats. mf has the biggest appetite you’ve ever seen. ceo of “you eating that?”. every time you see him on the couch he either has a bag of crisps, chocolate, popcorn, leftovers from last night or a takeout he ordered in his lap. man just loves food (i relate ‘sei dw). but all that eating makes boy bloat like crazy. like, he has a fast metabolism so mf never gains weight that much🙄. but he could literally eat half a sharing bar of chocolate and suddenly he’s eight weeks pregnant. also, he didn’t know what bloating was until you finished a movie night and mf took half the popcorn, had his own bag of jellies and three of the small multipack chocolate bars. so when he undressed for his shower and caught a glimpse of his stomach that normally only has a bit of pudge, pushed out to where it looks like he gained weight over night he has a stroke. this how shiz went down:

“(Y/N)!!” you literally sprinted to the bathroom thinking he fell or sum. “what issei? what happened?!”. “have i, have i always been this big?” “what? you look like you always do”. the distressed noise he let out along with him fake stumbling and grabbing the counter had you confused. “i look pregnant! what do you mean i always look like this? we’re getting a treadmill or at home gym or whatever i need to get back to how i was. good lord i really let myself go.” he ran a hand across his face while rubbing his stomach and looking in the mirror. then it hit you. “oh my god you fucking idiot, you do realise how much shit you are right? your just bloated.” “bloated? the fuck is that?”. you then spent the next fifteen minutes sitting on the toilet seat explaining what bloating was while he showered.

𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇: i just know baby don’t got teeth that look like a fresh set of veneers. and it’s not like they crazy crooked, just slightly that you barley notice unless you’re up close and stare at his mouth. but because he’s always looking at himself it’s the first thing he sees. this leads to him covering his mouth whenever he laughs and only slightly smirking or lifting his mouth to a small closed lip smile when he’s told to smile. everytime he has to take a picture with his family one of his auntie who’s taking it shouts: “smile issei!” every time. and he always says: “i am though”which leads to his getting pinched in the side by his mother and her telling him: “fucking smile properly before i whoop your ass” through gritted teeth while she smiles brightly herself. he grew to not care as much when, you again, told him you love his smile when he threw his head back instead of covering his mouth when you told him a funny story.

𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐒/𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐒: heavenly i know, but bby doesn’t completely agree. we all know boy thick especially those gorgeously thick thighs! but he just thinks they’re too thick. he’s used to seeing oikawa and makki’s slender ones, so when he stands in front of the mirror in a pair of swim shorts he bought and they’re swinging on his waist but about to rip around his thighs he can feel himself start to tear up. and then, what a suprise, you walk in!

~ start story:)): “ ‘sei! you ready to go, oh are you okay?”. he whips his head around to see you standing in the doorway in the swim set you just bought your self. ‘god you look so good’ he thinks to himself. “uh yeah yeah i’m good just need a few minutes these uh, they don’t fit.” he brings a hand to his face and uses his index finger and thumb to wipe the tears in the corner of his eyes. “oh well then you can just tie the strings, that’s what they’re there for, i told you to go a size down silly”. you stand infront of him and start to tie the strings in the shorts around his waist. “no doll, they aren’t to big, they’re to small look” he motions his head to the way they’re straining around his thighs and he just wants to start crying again. “oh i see, we’ll theres nothing we can do there , is there? we’ll just buy another pair on the way.” how? he thinks. how are you not laughing in his face that his legs are to fat to fit in a pair of shorts that are 2 sizes to big for him? “i know what you’re thinking,” your soft voice breaks him out of his thoughts. “why is she not laughing at me huh? she probably thinks i’m fuckin’ ugly” you do your best to mimic his deep voice but just sound silly trying, making him let out a small laugh. “how many times have i told you how much i adore your legs hm? how many times have i done, such oh so sinful things on them while going on about how much i love them?. to many to count issei. so next time you think all those silly bad thoughts just think of me and every time i tell you nice things about them!”. now he’s definitely crying, but this time over how much your words helped him. and now he feels like a million dollars as he struts across the beach to the three men waiting for you with his neon orange shorts tied around his waist and clinging to his thighs. end story :))~

jesus i forgot about his legs. anyway, all his life he’s been told how ‘lanky he is’ and how long his legs are. this makes him feel like shit really,most of his jeans stop above his anlke so the only type of socks he had is the long ones that he uses to hide his ankles fromm people, making them think he has the perfect size. he’ll never forget the time he spent hours shopping with his mother and trying on countless pairs of trousers for an upcoming wedding that and they stop above his ankle. he feels embarrassed really, seeing the fitter tell him they can just get them custom made, but it’ll cost more plus the original price. watching how distressed his mother gets when he tells her how much it’ll be. he doesn’t want his mother spending that much money on a pair of trousers he’ll wear once so he butts in saying it’s fine and he’ll deal with it by wearing black socks and no one will notice. the same exact problem happens several years later except in his mother’s place is makki along with oikawa and iwa, watching him get fitted for your wedding. he tells himself ‘think of (y/n), think of (y/n) and how much she says she loves your legs’ but it’s hard to when all the other men have no problem finding the perfect suit size. he doesn’t want to pay extra for a custom suit but that’s what it looks like is going to happen.

-end <3

[onlyhereforangst]

I hate that the forsaken show has made this feel necessary, but I wanted to check in; I hope you're doing okay. I'm so sorry the writers have done this to us all again.

I’d love to lie and say I’m fine, but I’m not. Just reading this, this thoughtfulness of you sent me into tears. And at some point maybe I’ll recover, but I don’t know in what capacity. These writers took something near and dear to my heart & not mildly. It feels ripped away from me and I have to watch as they laugh hysterically & shred it to pieces in front of my face. A complete and utter lack of respect & for seemingly nothing.

I should’ve learned, I’ve watched this show for 18 years. I was devastated when Ziva left & eventually miserable, in tears when they killed her. I kept on because this was my show- it’s always been my show. Then I fell in love with Ellie’s character. All of it- the quirkiness, the innocence, the nerdiness, the fresh take on a female procedural character. She was so relatable on a deep level and I loved watching her grow into her own as the seasons went on. Of course I quickly loved the chemistry between her & Nick- clearly not learning from my mistakes with Ziva & Tony. So this, this absolute punch to the gut, rip your heart out shit writing (and that’s still an understatement) of reverse character development, completely OOC move by Ellie after quite literally building the entire season to something different? Something meaningful and happy? Something both characters deserved?

Yeah it feels like fucking shit. And seeing Davy & Emily laugh in their IG stories like this was a good fucking plotline makes my blood boil. Because I liked them. I liked their characters, loved Ellie. And this is just…wrong. We’ve had a clusterfuck of a year and this is how you celebrate that? Fuck you, NCIS. Read the goddamn room.

And one of the worst parts, personally, is how they destroyed my love of content creation. This show & ship inspired me to start writing and eventually giffing and somewhere along the line I got so invested in this community I signed on to admin our main blog. I learned I loved to write, to the point that one day I might try and write a novel. I learned I loved to create aesthetically appealing gifs and constantly improve on my craft. I found amazing friends through content creation and this ship. My entire inspiration and motivation to create content (something I genuinely love, something I immediately go to do when I’m feeling down and I can’t even fucking do that right now which is the worst) is gone. They fucking burned it to the ground with this finale. Or better yet- exploded it with a lovely bomb because that’s their brand.

I so appreciate you checking in, really I do ❤️ and I didn’t mean for this to spiral, but I think I needed it. It’s not even everything that’s running through my head. Some of it, words don’t even come. I’ve spent countless hours on this ship, if you look at my username I quite literally am only here (on tumblr) for ellick. I only downloaded the app & signed up to join this fandom. And now that it’s been gutted, I honestly don’t know what I’ll do. I don’t know if I’ll be able to come back to tumblr, to content creation for any fandom- let alone this one. I just don’t know. Sure this sounds dramatic, they’re fictional characters. But they’ve been so much more to me, the community I surrounded myself with here meant so much more to me.

In all, no, I’m not okay. I’m not okay with us getting blown up either. And I have tears in my eyes writing that because fuck. I love the memories I’ve made with this fandom. And even if the shitshow of a show royally fucked up the end of our ship, I’ll always cherish those memories (just maybe not right this second).

I love you all, so much ❤️

[mosswillow]

Learning To Love - Steve Rogers x Reader (featuring Texas vibes)

Summary: Life always does this thing where it puts you in situations you swore you were done experiencing. You’re done having relationships, but they may not be done with you.

Warnings: Smut, feelings, angst, interrupted assault  (In relation to this, attacker going unpunished, intimidation, stalker vibes.), mature themes, 18+ adult content, slow burn?

A/N: This is a gift for @joannie95 for the Hoelentine’s Day challenge! I hope you like it. This isn’t a dark fic but it is a little heavy, there’s a healthy dollop of anxiety and feelings throughout with a happy ending.

Thanks to  @amythedvdhoarder @chrissquares and @drabblewithfrannybarnes  for putting this whole thing together, it’s such a fun challenge!

By clicking keep reading you confirm you’re over 18. This is mature content, be careful.

Unlovable.

When asked to describe yourself it’s the first word you think of. Your very first boyfriend spent months emotionally abusing you and by the end of the relationship it’s what you truly believed about yourself. Every relationship after has been the same. Your insecurities and inability to trust causing tension that eventually sabotages any chance at making things work; and with each failed relationship your view of yourself becomes more and more loathsome. Self hatred and depreciation surround you in a cloak of misery, convincing you that they’re your friends.  It’s all your fault, you deserve all of it, You’re unlovable.

So you don’t do relationships anymore. You want nothing more than to love and be loved, to hold hands and kiss under the moonlight. You want a partner to share your life with, an emotional connection that transcends yourself, creating a whole new person.

If only you were good enough, worthy enough for love.

But you’re not.

---

“No eating in here Dr. Rogers,” you chide.

Steve looks up at you and gives a smirk.

“How about a little bribe.” He holds up a bag of beaver nuggets. You roll your eyes and look around before sticking your hand in and grabbing a few puffs.

“I knew you couldn’t be perfect all the time,” He teases.

“Don’t you have an office or something?”

“I like it better here, I get to be scolded by a beautiful librarian and don’t have to deal with the other professors.”  

You’ve known Steve for years. He started teaching at the same time you joined the library staff at Rice. He’s genuine and kind. You’ve watched him help countless students outside of office hours. Everyone likes him, including you. You really like him a lot. That’s why you can’t let yourself entertain the possibility of being with him. You can’t lose him. You can’t bear the inevitable conclusion of him looking you in the eyes and telling you he’s done, that you’re too much for him.

“Well you’ll have to pack it up, they’re sending everyone home because of the hurricane.”

“It’s barely even a hurricane, more like a tropical storm,” Steve scoffs.

“Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

You close the library down before heading to your car. The wind has already started and the sky darkens by the second. You smell the slight scent of sea air and know it’s close. The humidity, which you forgot could even get this bad, causes you to start sweating profusely and you want to get home and take a shower before the storm starts. You have a pint of blue bell waiting for you at home along with a stack of unread books, a quiet night sounds perfect.

“Hey.”

You whip around and see a familiar face, a grad student who visits the library often. Alex, you remember.

“Sorry, I just closed the library down. You'll have to wait until the school opens.”

He takes a small step forward, close enough that your personal space is violated, while at the same time far enough to where the invasion feels almost accidental.

“I’ve watched you around campus, noticed your schedule.” It’s not an accident.

It’s not unusual for students to flirt with you but this is less flirting and more just creepy.

“Oh, um yeah I work a lot.” you take a step back and he follows.

“You don’t have a boyfriend.” He states.

You stare at him and take another step back, hitting your back on your car. You grab onto the handle and he reaches out and grabs your hand.

“Hey don’t be like that. I’m a good guy. I won’t hurt you.”

You pry your hand away..

“One date, say yes.” He says, slowly pushing his body towards you.

“No, I have to go.”  

You press yourself against your car as his body goes rigid.

“You’re such a fucking tease, parading around me for weeks.”

He takes a tiny step back but places his hands against your car, caging you in. You close your eyes and freeze in fear. Your mind screams at you to move but your body just won’t.

He’s suddenly pulled away from you and when you open your eyes the only thing visible is Steve’s back.

“She said no, why don’t you move along and maybe spend some time considering why you feel entitled to women who clearly aren’t interested.”

Alex and Steve stare at each other for a few slow moments before Alex scowls at you and walks away.

“Are you ok?” Steve turns to you.

“I’m fine.” you lie, crossing your arms to avoid shaking.

Steve raises his eyebrows and looks you up and down. You’re not entirely sure how it happens but somehow you end up sitting in the passenger seat of Steve's truck, looking at your apartment building. Rain has started coming down in earnest and you dread running through it.

“Are you going to be ok alone?” Steve asks

“Are you?” You reply.

You look at eachother and your mind clears. His blue eyes stare at you with concern. Steve's hands are still on the steering wheel, clutching on like it might disappear if he lets go. You don’t want to be alone and you can tell that he doesn’t either. You want to feel safe and right now Steve is the only one who makes you feel that way. It would be so easy to invite him in, you know he would say yes.

“You don’t have a car. do you have food? Bottled water? A portable charger?” Steve asks.

“You’re the one that said it’s barely a hurricane.”

Steve sighs and releases his hands from the steering wheel.

“Just call me if you need me.”

You nod and climb out of the truck. The transition from the hot rain to your air conditioned apartment causes you to start shivering and even after you change and cover yourself in a warm blanket you still shake uncontrollably.

---

The storm lasts three days, worse than you were expecting but nothing like Harvey.

Steve shows up at your apartment bright and early a bag of conchas and breakfast tacos in hand. You climb in his truck and buckle your seatbelt. Steve eyes your book bag before backing up.

“You’re not going to work are you?”

“It’s been three days.” you reply.

He looks at you like you’re crazy and you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“It wasn’t that bad, you got there before anything actually happened,” you say.

He opens his mouth and breathes in before biting his lip and driving you to work without another word.

Steve walks you to your car every day after work. You don’t ask him to, he just does. It’s an unsaid expectation you both have. The first week is awkward, You both say almost nothing to each other. The second week though Steve finally breaks the silence.

“How have you been?”

You shrug.  

“I filed a complaint. He’s barred from the library and promised not to come near me.” you say.

Steve purses his lips.

“Do you feel safe though?”

“No...”

Steve stiffens and you reach out and grasp his shoulder.

“Thank you for walking me to my car.”

“Of course,” Steve closes the door for you and you drive away.

Steve cracked something on your exterior. You had been pushing off the feelings before Steve asked you how you were and now you can’t push them down any longer. You get in the shower and let the warm water wash over you. At first you feel raw and then angry and then for the first time since it happened you cry. It feels silly, to let something so seemingly small affect you so much. It could have been so much worse, it’s not like anything actually happened. Maybe that’s what scares you, not what happened but the implication of what could have. He invaded your space and intimidated you, making you feel small and helpless. If it wasn’t for Steve…

You let yourself fall apart until the water turns cold, then you pick yourself up and wrap yourself in a soft towel.

You look at the woman in your bathroom mirror and see someone who isn’t you. She’s broken and hurting, her eyes swollen from crying. She looks like she’s about to fall over from exhaustion. She didn’t deserve what happened to her. She has every right to feel upset and frightened about it. She didn’t deserve to have her safety threatened, nobody deserves that.

You didn’t deserve it.

You go to work the next day and the day after that. Days turn into weeks turn into months and the fear slowly leaches out of you as you reach out for help. The woman in your bathroom mirror deserves therapy and so do you.

Steve is always there. He walks you to your car every day. He starts texting you and you text him back. You go out to dinner with him, an ethiopian place this weekend and a mediteranian food truck the next. You form inside jokes and slowly you find yourself telling Steve little things about yourself.

“Why are you single?” You ask him one day.

“I had a girlfriend, she’s not with us anymore. After she… I guess I just… I wasn’t in a place for a long time to date anyone, I cringe now at some of the things I did while dating after she passed.”

He leans back and gives you a little smile.

“I’ll know when it’s the right time to jump back in - when it’s the right person.”

You open up about your past and he listens. He tells you about growing up as the smallest kid in his class, how he was bullied and how suddenly people started treating him differently when he hit a late growth spurt. You feel closer to him than you’ve ever felt with anyone.

---

Steve walks you to your car. Tomorrow is your off day and you stop to thank him and remind him you aren’t working the next few days. He’s looking at you and shifts on his feet, you furrow your brows in concern.

“It’s Valentine's day tomorrow.” He blurts out.

You take a step towards your car, knowing where this is going and not wanting it to go any further.

Steve is the one who holds you together, his friendship helping you in so many ways. He holds power over you though, power to throw you aside and break you apart. You can’t be cast away, not again.

“If you don’t have plans maybe I can make you something for dinner at my place?”

You turn away and grab your door handle.

“Sorry, I’m busy.”

“Oh of course, yeah that’s fine.”

You watch Steve bring his hand up to his forehead in the rearview mirror as you drive away.

That evening you write the text, it’s cowardly but you don’t think you can face him.

I don’t need you to walk me to my car anymore. Thank you for your help but I think our relationship should be professional from here on out.

What? No, we’re friends. Are you ok?

You turn your phone off and take a sleeping pill only to be woken in the middle of the night by pounding on your door.

Steve stands in your doorway. His eyes are red and his hair is messy. He takes a deep breath and runs his hand through his hair.

“You weren’t answering your phone.”

“I turned it off.”

Steve stares at you and you look away.

“What is this about?”

“What is what about?”

“We’re friends. I’m not going to stop being your friend just because you don’t want a relationship. I know this isn’t one sided, that you feel the same way about me. Why are you trying to push me away?”

You cross your arms and look down and he leans over, putting himself in your line of sight.

“If I let you in I’ll get hurt,” you confess.

“Why do you think that?”

‘I..” You stutter

It’s not one moment. Not any one breakup you’ve been through. It’s not even what happened months ago during the hurricane. It’s everything. It’s self hatred, overthinking and analyzing. It’s all the anxiety and stress of life that compounds into fear. Fear of failing and of loss, of getting hurt and breaking. You feel like the only way to keep yourself up and moving is by pushing him away.

“You’re so scared of being hurt but Y/N, you’re hurting. You’re doing to yourself the very thing you’re so scared of.”

Tears start forming, Steve brings his hand up and wipes one away before pulling you into a hug and letting you cry into his chest.

He shifts his face close to your ear and speaks softly.

“I have fear too, but you know what I’m the most scared of? I’m scared of not being your friend anymore. We don’t have to be in a relationship but please don’t cut me out.”

His voice hitches and his grip tightens.

“I love you, I care about you and always will.”

You pull back and look at him, a tear escapes one of his eyes and he promptly wipes it away.

“I’m scared,” you say.

“I am too.”

Your heart beats rapidly as you look up into Steve's bloodshot eyes and see the pain that you’re feeling mirrored back at you. Steve holds power over you but for the first time you realize that you hold that same power over him. You never thought you would be willing to put yourself in a vulnerable position again but somehow, here you are. You put your hand over your heart and feel the life pump out if it and through your veins.

reaching up tentatively, you bring your hand to his face grabbing his cheek gently. You stand up tall and slide your hand behind his neck, bringing him in and kissing him. Tension releases from both of you as you press your lips together, embracing in a warm hug. You pull away and he brings you in for another kiss, this time pushing you into your apartment and kicking the door closed behind him.

It’s a flurry of body parts and heat. You’re ripping off each other's clothing. Steve kisses your neck and you bring your hand to his chest and feel down his abdomen. He groans when you get to his dick and the next thing you know you’re on the bed arching your back as he slams into you. You open your mouth to moan but nothing comes out, Instead your eyes roll to the back of your head as an orgasm washes through you and carries you away.

“Fuck, I’m coming,” He says.

He stills on top of you and then looks down making eye contact before rolling beside you and pulling you into a hug.

“That was...” Steve starts

“Amazing.” you finish.

You pry yourself from Steve and walk to the bathroom to clean up, stopping at the mirror to look at your post sex appearance.

Maybe there’s no way around it. Maybe life will stick you in situations and force you forward against your will. You weren’t trying to let Steve into your life but somehow here he is.

For the first time you don’t don’t feel like this unlovable person. You’re not scared he’s going to leave you or that you’re going to ruin the relationship.

You have a feeling you’ve never truly experienced before and now it all makes sense. Somehow in the last few months you’ve learned to love. You look at yourself in the mirror and see someone worthy.

You’ve spent all your time and energy pushing people away when you should have been building yourself up. You thought that taking care of yourself meant hiding away and putting up a wall.

Self care isn’t a bubble bath or a glass of wine and It’s not something that happens out of fear or anxiety. It’s affording yourself the same kindness and forgiveness that you would give anyone else. It’s looking at yourself in the mirror and recognizing that you deserve to love and to be loved. It’s giving yourself permission to feel however you feel without guilt or shame. It’s love in its purest form and you deserve it.

You are not unlovable.

Steve walks up beside you and kisses your temple.

“When you said you loved me...” you start.

“I meant it.”  He says quickly.

You turn and look at him, biting your lip before saying something you’ve been so scared of for so long. You kiss his cheek and smile.

“I love you.”  

[kakashis-formal-simp]

“I’ll always love you”

Kakashi x reader

A tiny bit of swear words...like three. Like two mentions of sex. Pretty sfw.

Summary: You break up with Kakashi

You walked into the Hokage building and prepared yourself for what was about to come. Today was the day you were going to break up with your boyfriend, Kakashi. It took a lot of thinking and tears until you finally came to the conclusion that breaking up was the best option for both of you. Knocking on the door you heard Kakashi give you permission to enter.

“Hey,” your voice hiding the tone of dread.

“Hey Y/n,” Kakashi looked up to meet your eye, “what brings you here? Also, you don’t have to worry I promise I’ll make time soon for our next date.” He smiled and then looked down to finish some more paperwork.

“Well actually, you don’t have to worry about making time for our next date,” you knew you had to do this but it still didn’t stop the guilt you were feeling. You just couldn’t do this anymore.

“I don’t? Why not?”

You took a deep breath, “because I’m breaking up with you. You don’t have to worry about balancing a relationship and being Hokage anymore.” you looked up to meet his eye.

“That’s funny Y/n but seriously why don’t I?” he let out a disbelieving chuckle.

“I’m being serious, Kakashi. I’m breaking up with you,” he could tell you weren’t joking.

“Why?” he stood up, “please Y/n, tell me this is some joke Naruto made you play”.

“You really think I would joke about this Kakashi. I’m not trying to toy with your emotions,” he took a step back, then proceeded to walk towards you.

“But why? I thought everything was going fine. Is it because I’m always working? Y/n I promise I’m working on making more time for us.”

“It’s not just that Kakashi, I’m not happy, I don’t want to do this anymore. Every day is a struggle and it’s honestly tearing me apart. I just can’t do it.” Kakashi was now standing right in front of you.

“What did I do Y/n? I promise whatever it is I can fix it. I don’t want to lose you, I can’t lose you,” he spoke fast, desperately.

You let out a sigh and put both of your hands on his face. Bringing him closer to you trying to ignore his tears threatening to fall.

“Kakashi, you can’t fix this. It isn’t just you, I’m a part of the problem as well. I should have brought up my feelings sooner. I love you and always will, but currently loving you has been hurting me.”

“But Y/n-,” you cut him off.

“No, Kakashi.” you whispered to him, “I already have everything out of the apartment. When you get home I won’t be there.”

“But Y/n,” he whispered back, finally letting his tears fall. You turned around and reached for the door. Once you touched the handle to open it he spoke again.

“I love you Y/n,” it was quiet but you heard it. Not responding you left, finally letting your own tears fall. You had many reasons why you broke up, but the main one was you weren’t happy, in fact, you were depressed. Ever since Kakashi became Hokage you haven’t spent any time with him. You tried constantly to make plans with him. You didn’t mind that he was too busy to hang out all the time. It was the fact he would agree to the plans and then not show up. Countless times you sat in a restaurant waiting for him, or at a park waiting for what was supposed to be a romantic dinner by the river. If he remembered the plans once he got home he would kiss you and tell you he would make it up to you. It worked the first couple of times but after the 5th dinner ditch, you stopped believing his words. Sometimes he wouldn’t even remember you two had plans and never apologized for missing them. Aside from a kiss before and after work you two shared no love. At first, you had made attempts, but after two many rejections, you decided your self-esteem couldn’t take anymore. That’s not all that had been bothering you either. You had known Kakashi his whole life. You were there for him when his comrades and sensei died. You were there for him when Sasuke left the village, but the worst part is you were there when he died. It may have only been a little bit to him but to you it was hours. The only man you had loved was dead. After he woke up in your arms you were overjoyed. Unfortunately, it was short-lived as he left to find Naruto right afterward. At first, you were fine with it, Naruto did just take out Pain, but before you had time with your lover he left to go meet the Raikage. Then the war came up. You never truly had time to remorse over him dying, or shower him in affection because he wasn’t dead. Truthfully you don’t think it ever occurred to him you watched him die and it traumatized you. You still had nightmares and every time they were just as heart tearing as the first. You wanted to go to him, tell him the problems you were having, but you just couldn’t. He was promoted to Hokage, so every time you tried to talk about it he was either busy or too tired to do anything other than sleep or read his icha icha. So many nights you cried yourself to sleep next to him muffing your cries so he wouldn’t hear. It hurt you so badly because you loved him and it started to feel one-sided.

Sighing you ran a hand through your hair as you prepared for what was next. You had to unpack all of your stuff into your new apartment.

~

I sat there in a daze as I watched Y/n walkout. The love of my life just broke up with me. I knew I was neglecting her for my work and figured I could make up for it, but now it’s too late. I sat down in my office chair and cried.

~

It’s been two weeks since Y/n broke up with me. I haven’t done much since then other than cry and sleep. Papers and papers were overflowing on my desk and I looked like shit. It's not like I have a reason to look good anyway. I couldn’t get her out of my head. She has always been a part of my life. I’ve always had her by my side, learned to live with her by my side. Now, I don’t know if I can live without her by me. I heard a knock on the door and sighed.

“Come in,” I watched as Yamato walked into the room and stood in front of me.

“Hey Kakashi, you look,” he looked me up and down, “uh, well, anyways I need you to come with me”.

“You want me to go with you?”

“We’re going out drinking tonight, just you and me,” he looked so happy if only I could relate.

“I can’t go with you Yamato, I’ve got lots of work to do,”

“Yes but it’s not like you’re doing it anyway, besides, you need to loosen up a bit. After what happened you need it,” damn, Naruto and his loud mouth must have told everyone.

“Fine, I guess I’ll go, but it better be just you and I,” I reluctantly gave in.

“Great I’ll meet you there at 8, oh and uh,” he looked back at me, “make sure you clean up a bit,”. With that Yamato was gone leaving me to my thoughts.

~

I walked into the bar and glanced around for Yamato.

“Right behind you Kakashi,” I turned to look at him.

“So, are we just going to drink until our heart’s content,” I remarked sarcastically.

“Yep, let’s go get one of those booths,” I let Yamato lead the way until I heard it. Y/n’s beautiful laugh. I could pick her laugh out anywhere. Dam, it’s been so long since I’ve heard it. Following my ears, I saw her. Y/n and all her glory, she was with Genma. Why the hell would she be with him.

“Kakashi are you coming,” Yamato followed my eyes, “ oh, crap, Kakashi I’m sorry I had no idea she would be here too,”

“It’s fine,” I mumbled bitterly. “I’m going to go talk to her I’ll be back later,”

“Wait, Kakashi,” I ignored him as I made my way towards the two love birds.

“Well, Y/n, long time no see,” I made my famous closed eye smile, but this time there was a deeper emotion in it.

She looked up at me surprised “o-oh, Kakashi hi”.

I scoffed, “when you told me you were breaking up with me I didn’t know it was because you wanted trash,”

She made a look of offense, “Kakashi, don’t be rude” she tried to finish but I was quick to interrupt her.

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend anyone,” I stated coldly, “I didn’t take you as the person to leave someone for someone else, Y/n” I spat her name like it was poison.

“Kakashi Hatake,” Y/n stood up from her seat, “If you would be so kind as to meet me outside” she smiled. If I weren’t pissed off, I’d be terrified, Y/n only smiles like that when she is prepared to rip a head off.

“Gladly,” I smiled back.

~

Genma finally talked you into leaving your apartment. It’s been two awful weeks since you broke up with him. You still loved him so much, breaking up with him was the hardest thing you’ve ever done. Currently, you were sitting at a bar with Genma.

“You know Y/n when my girlfriend broke up with me I was so depressed. I didn’t want to do anything, but then she gave me another chance, and look at us now, we’re still together,” you sighed.

“ I know, I want to be with Kakashi and I want our problems to be solved but how are we supposed to solve them when I can’t even voice the problems,” Genma looked at you apathetically.

“He’ll come around looking for you sooner or later and when he does that’s when you should tell him,” you sighed again, Genma was right.

“Look on the bright side, you don’t have to take birth control anymore,” you laughed for what seemed like the first time and months.

“Genma I stopped taking that about 6 months ago when Kakashi stopped getting hard for me,” Genma laughed at that, not expecting you to be so blunt about it.

“Well, Y/n, long time no see,” you stopped for a minute, shocked you looked up to meet Kakashi’s gaze.

“O-oh, Kakashi hi,” he scoffed.

“When you told me you were breaking up with me I didn’t know it was because you wanted trash,” you sat back surprised by the sudden venom in him.

“Kakashi don’t be rude,” I tried to finish but he cut me off.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend anyone. I didn’t take you as the person to leave someone for someone else Y/n” he spat my name like it was poison.

“Kakashi Hatake, If you would be so kind as to meet me outside,” now I was pissed, what the hell got into him.

“Gladly” he responded while he followed me to the back door.

Once you got outside you were the first to speak. “What the heck was that Kakashi? You haven’t seen me in two weeks and that’s the first thing you do. Why were you even in the bar in the first place?” you glared up at him not happy with how he was treating your friend.

“I was there with Yamato. Why were you there with Genma? Why didn’t you tell me you left me for someone else Y/n?” he spits the first sentence but you could tell in the last sentence he was hurting.

“I didn’t leave you for someone else-,” Kakashi cuts you off before you can finish.

“Don’t lie to me Y/n,” his eyes were hard and cold.

“Kakashi, will you listen to me, please. I know you’ve never listened before, but you can’t cut me off if you want your questions answered,” he was surprised by the calmness in your voice.

“What do you mean I’ve never listened to you, I always listen to you Y/n and,” he let out a sigh, “I didn’t mean to keep cutting you off like that,” he looked down at his feet.

“Kakashi if you did listen to me we wouldn’t be here right now. If you had listened to me then we would still be together, but you don’t listen, you never listen,” you let out a sigh, “you used to always listen to me, but this last year and a half you’ve done nothing but ignore me,”

“I haven’t ignored you Y/n, we’ve done lots of things together. I mean, I guess the last couple of months It might seem like I have but not the last year,”

“You have though,” you sat down on the steps to the door.

“When Y/n? These last two weeks without you have been awful, I haven’t been able to eat or sleep,” he ran his hand through his hair and sat down next to you.

“It started when you died. You died fighting Pain, I watched it happen,” you brought your hands up to your face and looked down. “It- it still haunts my dreams. Seeing your lifeless body, not hearing your pulse beat. What makes it so terrible is it’s not just a nightmare. It did happen, I watched it. After you woke up you went off to find Naruto. I didn’t get any reassuring word or even a kiss, all I got was a ‘where’s Naruto’ and an ‘I’ll be back later Y/n’. After you found Naruto I only had a day and then you went off to find the Raikage. Then the war happened and now you’re Hokage. Every time I tried to talk to you about the night terrors something came up. Most nights you were too tired to even talk to me. I started to set up dates so that way I could tell you or at least be with you, but you never showed up to any of them. After that, I didn’t even care about telling you I just wanted to be with you. It never happened though, you rejected any form of affection I gave you. At that point, I had a wounded self-esteem and frequent anxiety attacks,” the tears were flowing silently down your face as you told him what you had been wanting to for a while. “It’s w-why I broke up with you, I was falling into a deeper depression every day,” Kakashi moved closer wrapping his arms around you so your face was to his chest. You looked up at him and gasped quietly.

“Kakashi,” you whispered, “don’t cry” he kissed your forehead.

“How am I not supposed to cry when I was hurting you and didn’t even know it,” he sighed, “Y/n, I’m so sorry. I-I had no idea, I should have but I didn’t. I understand why you did it. I can’t even imagine watching you die. It hurts too much,” Kakashi’s voice cracked and so did your heart. You didn’t like him being sad.

“I’m sorry, Kakashi,”

“Sorry for what Y/n? None of this was your fault,” he moved his hand down to wipe your tears.

“Yes, this all could have been avoided if I had just told you,” Kakashi lets out another sigh.

“It was my fault. You tried to tell me, but I promise you Y/n if you give me a chance it will never happen again,” you move back from him and put your pinky finger in front of him.

“Pinky promise?” Kakashi chuckled at your childish antics.

“I pinky promise,” he wrapped his pinky around yours and then leaned in for a kiss.

“I love you Y/n,”

“I love you too,” you leaned in and kissed him once more, “now, go apologized to Genma because he was the kind one who told me I should give you a second chance,”

“He did?”

“Yes, he did, he said his girlfriend gave him and a second chance and it’s been great ever since,’

“Girlfriend?” you could tell he felt stupid for making such wild assumptions.

“Yes, his girlfriend, now go apologize,”

“Right, and then afterward can we cuddle, then have make-up sex, and then cuddle some more?” he pouted like a child.

“Of course we can” you laughed and kissed him.

[divagonzo]

Like a Muggle

A/N: This is inspired (and a roughly written one-shot in my side-verse) by @headcanonsandmore aka Dadcanons and their musing of Ron being an awesome father to his kids.

Rated T for innuendo and some snogging but also veiled references to physical violence and social mortification. 98% Ace Safe. This will eventually end up on Ao3 and maybe FF.net

For now, though, it’s all for the Tumblr crowds.

Edit: Now on Ao3.

Give me my demarcation line damn it!

Ron opened the window to admit the unexpected owl. He was working in the Wheeze's office, trying to balance the books and was instead accosted by a nondescript brown owl. "Letter from Neville?" Ron unwrapped the twine from the owl's leg. "Need a rasher or a kip?" The owl hooted what sounded like a No. "It's from Neville. Does he need a reply?" Yet another hooting no.

"Wanna run on back then since Neville doesn't need anything else?" Ron reached out and let the owl come to him, stroking his head feathers gently before the owl took off again. He unrolled the length of parchment, using the readers on top of his head to scan the letter. Disappointment welled in his heart at first before pride shined. He had to go tell Hermione this straightaway, sod the books for an hour. He grabbed his dark blue cloak for the short walk to the Ministry. Taking the floo was too much hassle for a brisk fall morning. "George, I gotta run to the ministry. Back in a few." "Bring me back those shipping contract papers that Percy has for us, wouldya? Save a plonker the trip." Ron threw up a rude gesture while taking the twenty minute walk to the front of the Ministry. He needed the break anyway from the numbers swirling around his head this morning.

Through the toilets and through security, even with the bailiff who knew who he was and still checked him, in the lift down six floors to the Magical Law Enforcement offices, through the rows of desks for the bureaucracy known as the Ministry to Hermione's personal secretary Miranda Blunt. "Ah, Mr. Weasley. You're not on her agenda today so I assume it's important for her to see you immediately? Well she's using the Floo with her Italian counterpart on business so it will be a few." Ron smiled, knowing how important Miranda actually was to Hermione. Everyone thought she was just her secretary but only a chosen few - Harry, Hermione, Hemera, and Ron knew that Miranda was also her personal bodyguard at the office, after the few times anyone tried to breach the security of the department to get to her. "Tea, Mr. Weasley?" "Please." "Three sugars, spot of milk?" "I'd almost think you're related to Hermione with that mind of yours." "Nah, it's only for the important stuff. Husband's tea is important knowledge. And it's also a way for you to know it's really me." Ron gave her a lopsided smile while Miranda slipped into the secure office, returning a couple of minutes later with a small tray of tea and a couple packets of biscuits. "Your wife didn't know if you were peckish or not." "You spoil a bloke, you know that?" Ron tore the packet open and inhaled the contents. He'd missed breakfast this morning on account of other pleasant activities then fell back asleep, only waking fifteen minutes before he was due at the shop. Miranda went back to her seat and used the contraption Hermione got her last year, called a typewriter. They'd explained it to Ron that it was like writing on parchment but easier to read for those who had trouble reading so many varied scrips from people. Hermione had even gifted one to Arthur and he spent countless hours using it writing to his kids and grandkids. The door opened up a couple of minutes later and Hermione stood there, making a motion for Ron to come into her office. Ron followed her in and then he kicked the door shut and gave her a enthusiastic greeting, one that she never complained about before pulling back from his lips, her cheeks flushed and her eyes closed. "You rarely come to the office on a Wednesday so what gives?" "I got a letter from Neville this morning and thought you probably should hear it from me than from him if he sent you a letter, too." "Letter?" Hermione pulled her glasses up to the bridge of her nose, a faint imitation of McGonagall and scanned the parchment twice. "Detention! Two weeks! Rose Lavender Weasley, of all the people! Hexing two another students!" She looked at Ron and saw him smirking slightly. "You prat. There's a page two, isn't there?" "Of course there is," Ron handed it over and watched her frown turn to a grimace and eventually into a smile. "She takes after you, she does." Hermione looked up from the parchment and smiled. "You were always so good on speaking up for me and occasionally fighting my battles when I didn't realize there was one going on." Hermione went back to her desk and opened a drawer, pulling out a cup, pointed her wand at it and re-heated the black coffee, and took a long sip. "You must have zero nerves in your mouth," Ron muttered from his seat across the desk. "You get used to it," Hermione pulled out a length of parchment along with her eagle owl quill and inkpot. "Anything you want to add into the letter I will send off straightaway?" "Nah, she should hear from you first anyway," Ron knew he'd write a letter later today and send it off tomorrow morning so Rose would know how proud her dad was for her standing up for others. Hermione went to work writing and in short order, finished it and cleaned up the parchment with her quill. "I considered a howler but I refuse to do that to our child for any reason. I hated getting them when people thought I was toying around with guys during the Tri-wizard tournament. Besides, Neville has everything under control so I'm not upset too much over it." Ron recalled punching a certain git in the nose and smiled. "Who'd have thought that what started as bullying would turn into a trip for three of the bullies to the hospital ward with Hannah and two weeks detention for Rosie for hexing two students bullying Hugo and his friends, and blackening the eyes of the other two when they disarmed her. I don't think her having a broken hand for punching the boy in the nose was too far for her." "And Neville did say the boys pulled their wands first and she was disarmed." "I'm glad I taught her there's no shame in fighting unfairly when it's overwhelming odds." "I do hope there's no ongoing reprisals." Hermione looked at Ron and saw him shaking his head. "Nah, if I know any better, I'm sure the sods in question were told off privately to leave Hugo alone if they knew what was best for them." Hermione let out a stifled laugh. "What kind of idiot takes on a Rose when almost all of her cousins are present these terms? The only one who isn't' there is Teddy, Right?" Ron nodded. Hermione smiled slightly. "Sixth years and she's a third year, Ron." "She's as tall as many of the boys there, Hermione. It doesn't surprise me in the least. And if there are any further problems, Victorie would probably step in and put them in their rightful place, I reckon." Hermione picked up the parchment and scanned it one last time. "I think we do need to send a howler tomorrow." "Really? Why?" "One of the gits is Zacharias Smith's son and he said that “the only reason you weren’t expelled for this is because of your parents.”

Ron's eyes lit up. "Thinking what I'm thinking?" "I am."

Yet another demarcation line!

Rose tromped into breakfast, exhausted. She's been in detention with Professor Sinestra until one in the morning helping her sort maps and other useless rubbish. Hugo was the one who loved Astronomy and the stars. Only thing she wanted was to race around the Quidditch pitch and now she was banned for a fortnight, for standing up for those who needed protecting. It was so bloody unfair! James and Fred said she was brilliant for what she did and so did Molly and Scorpius. Al, being Al, laughed quietly when she said why she'd gotten detention. She looked up from her seat at the table, her friends with her in commiseration, and saw Zeb sitting across the way, scowling at her with two black eyes and a brace around his left wrist. Madame Abbot Longbottom said it was a small price for him to pay for being a bully on first years - that everyone in the school would know his shame. Owls swooped in, each dropping parcels for those who were present in the Great Hall. She glanced up and saw a tawny brown owl carrying a red envelope in it's talons. She felt the utter dread in the pit of her stomach.

Her parents sent her a howler. She knew she'd stepped in dragon dung if they were mad enough to send a howler. She felt the shame on her face and neck, a reminder to her that her Dad was the same way. She saw Professor Longbottom surreptitiously pull his wand from his robes, ready to silence it into oblivion if it got out of hand.

One last glance across the way and she saw Zeb Smith smirking, knowing how much trouble she was about to get into.

She took it in a shaking hand and tore the top off, hearing her Mum's tsking loudly. "Fuck," she said under her breath.

"Rose Lavender Granger, detention? Of all the things to get in trouble for, and you chose this," Hermione's voice droned loudly. She was shocked. Mom wasn’t yelling, well, no more than seemed usual. "We are so proud of you for standing up for the younger students. Who picks on first years minding their own business? What prat thinks so poorly of themselves that they'd berate first years for playing in the hallways between classes? " "Who tries to hex firsties?" Ron's voice interrupted. "Rude!" 

“Yes, it was very rude and you were right to intervene.” Hermione’s voice carried across the hall.

"We spoke with your head of house," Ron's voice bellowed, "and agree that the punishment fits the circumstances. Two weeks detention is adequate to us." "Sometimes the consequences are a fair price to pay." Hermione said.  "Serve your detentions knowing that we are proud of you for standing up for others who need protecting from bullies." "Love, Dad - " - and Mum." Rose released the breath she'd been holding entirely too long and looked across the way. Zeb was no longer at the table and neither were his three friends she'd put in the hospital wing fighting them like a Muggle.

[meetthetank]

Beast Code Chapter 1: The Twilit City

Rating: Mature Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Category: F/M Fandom: NieR: Automata (Video Game) Relationship: 2B/9S (NieR: Automata) Characters: 2B (NieR: Automata), 9S (NieR: Automata), Original YoRHa Characters (NieR: Automata) Additional Tags: Transformation, gothic horror, Android Lycanthropy...sort of, Inspired by Bloodborne (Video Game), Everyday i get closer to just writing a Bloodborne AU

Summary:  Break the vicious cycle with tooth and claw. Unleash the beast within and destroy your chains. But the strength to defy fate comes at a grave cost. Will it be enough, little doll? Or will you succumb to despair once more?

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31546982

The assignment to the Twilight Belt comes as a shock to 2B and 9S. Rarely, if ever, are YorHa units sent to this border of perpetual daylight and eternal night. Conditions are always reported as unstable by the infrequent scans by one of the other satellite bases that orbit earth, too dangerous to deploy scanners by themselves, and too depleted of resources for the Council to care about. The mystery surrounding the strip of permanent twilight goads curious operators and scanners alike to comb through files searching for nuggets of data, image or video files, anything they can get their hands on. All but a few pieces of data reveal tantalizing scraps and clues to the puzzle of the Sunset Belt. Photographs of dead machines with toothy, gaping maws that split their spherical heads in two and minerals warped in peculiar shapes. According to one of the situation reports from a scanner that had been sent there, there was an eerie, foreboding feeling about the place; that strange and frightening sounds would echo across the landscape and that he felt close to a forbidden barrier that separated this world from another. Though the file and its contents are now treated as a human “ghost story”, many androids, including 2B and 9S, believe at least some portion of the tale.

9S relays this story to 2B as they descend to Earth’s surface, his chattering easing some of 2B’s trepidation. The pair had fallen into an easy rhythm over the course of several assignments to Earth, most of which involved retrieving data from lost servers buried in rubble or clearing out an area of machine lifeforms. Despite her outwardly cold demeanor, 9S wormed his way past all of her defenses, forming a strong, solid relationship with the battler android. His voice is a centering point for her and assists in ignoring the gut churning possibilities of what could be waiting for them below.

“...What do you think, 2B?” his voice crackles from the comms system inside her flight unit.

“Hm?” she shifts her head to the side, glancing at his jet black flight unit cruising beside hers.

“What do you think made the target go rogue?”

She bites her lower lip. There are a thousand possible answers as to why a normally punctual, efficient YorHa Battle unit would suddenly stop responding to command and not checking in at required times. Only a few of those options were machine lifeform related complications.

“We’ll find out when we arrive, 9S.” she says curtly, eager to shut down the conversation, “Focus on landing protocol.”

He sighs, a sound of annoyance and frustration, “Yeah, yeah.”

“One affirmation will-”

“Fiiiiiiiine.”

The final phase of their descent is spent in silence. They pass through the Earth’s atmosphere in streaks of fire and light towards the border of day and night, and a continent that humans called Europe. Even as they descend, the outlines of ancient, massive structures come into view. Both androids are used to the thick vegetation eating away at the remains of human structures, but here the trees are gnarled, twisted, and void of leaves or blossoms. Their branches reach to the crimson sky and permanently setting sun like bony hands in prayer or a stag’s antlers. As 2B and 9S set their flight units down a few miles away from the outskirts of a sprawling, ancient city. It amazes 9S, as he exits his own unit, that the buildings are in such good condition considering the millenia that have passed it by. Great spires of countless cathedrals pierce the heavens, casting an ominous, looming shadow over the otherwise barren landscape. A well worn cobblestone road, lined with rusted iron lighting fixtures long since burnt out, leads into the city proper. 

2B and 9S stand at the precipice of this ancient beast of stone and metal in awe of its size, and terrified of what might lurk within. A hoarse bird’s caw, jolts the androids back into awareness, 2B drawing her katana and prepares for battle.

“Heh,” 9S laughs, trying to calm them both down, “Just a raven, 2B.”

“What?”

“A large black bird. Harmless to us.” He doesn’t tell her about the chill he gets down his spine as he watches the corvid gaze down at them with beady black eyes, or how humans saw these birds as ill omens or prophets of death.

They begin the trek into the forgotten city. 2B doesn’t put Virtuous Contract away.

Pod 042 alerts 2B to the presence of an unidentifiable android signal, marking the location on both hers and 9S’ map. Since the area has yet to be properly mapped out by satellite imagery (as inaccurate as that process is) only a vague street layout is available through a very low power scan. They have no way of judging what might block their path to the target beyond featureless grey masses depicting buildings, rubble, large trees, or whatever else may lie in wait. Their target, represented by a small orange dot on the map, appears to be near the city’s main gate and inside one of the larger buildings. 2B refuses to admit it to herself, but she’s relieved to not have to delve too far into this labyrinthine city.

“I’ve never seen the sky this color…” 9S muses as he stares up, transfixed by the blood red sky and orange sun hanging low.

Though hauntingly beautiful, she won’t deny, 2B keeps her gaze fixed on the wrought iron gate ahead of them. The heavens disturb her; they are the color of death. Of war. And the sun is… wrong. 

She snaps at 9S to keep focused as they approach the gate to the city. Though scans indicate there are no machine lifeforms, or any lifeforms beyond their target, she’s learned from countless combat assignments to not rely totally on what the support unit reports. She’s encountered and seen machines that mask themselves from scans or camouflage themselves in the environment, and in a place like this anything could be hiding in the shadows just outside of view. 

The iron gate lies ajar, worn from millennia of neglect. Clouds of rust particles burst from the hinges as 2B shoves it open further, the metal grinding against itself with a horrible grating shriek. The sound makes them both wince, and they slip through the partially opened gate as soon as they can.

Standing inside the city gates, 9S can’t shake the uneasy feeling that claws at the back of his mind. The great ancient human structures loom above them, and though he knows that the buildings themselves aren’t alive, he can’t shake the notion that he’s being watched by them. The windows are dark, but when he passes by the light of the setting sun reflects off of them, giving them the illusion of intelligence. Suddenly, 9S feels as if he’s inside a cave, or locked in a room with no exit. Suddenly… He finds it hard to breathe. 9S tugs at the collar of his jacket as if it's tightening around his throat. His synthetic lungs fill with air as much as he can take, then he releases it moments later. It calms him, if only a little.

2B’s gaze is fixed ahead on the building Pod 042 marked as the rogue android’s hiding place. It’s a much smaller structure than the others that choke the sky, but its reach stretches across the streets like a tree’s roots. Judging by the well preserved signs that hang from crumbled doors it looked to have multiple uses. 9S commands his own Pod to run scans on the words and symbols for later analysis. 

“The target’s in here…” 2B murmurs, holding her free hand up in a tight fist, signaling 9S to stop behind her.

This portion of the sprawling building is similar in structure to the massive spires above. It has the same pointed section on the roof, but much smaller in scale, and similar symbols decorate the exterior. A cross, winged humans, various flowering plants, and a number of human figures bowing their heads or supplicating themselves to the winged humans.

“This must have been a place of worship,” 9S muses aloud.

“Focus.”

He nods. Typically 9S argues with his partner about the necessity for recording data like this, or excuse his wandering attention to his designation as a scanner, but he knows the danger within the house of worship, or rather, he doesn’t know. Neither one of them knows what this rouge android is capable of. 

2B presses her hand against the wooden doors to the chapel and pushes it open as slowly as possible. It groans in protest, dust falls from its hinges and frame, but it swings inward. A rush of warm air washes over them carrying the scent of stale incense and dead machines. Clouds of smoke billow out of the doorway, rising into the red sky like twisted fingers. 2B enters first, sliding in sword arm first. She motions for 9S to wait for a moment, then commands Pod 042 to switch on its flashlight. 

9S peeks his head around the door, keeping a few paces behind his partner. He switches on his own Pod’s flashlight to illuminate more of the pitch black interior. Long wooden benches are pushed up against the walls, opening up the center space. Ornate candle holders, rotting books, charred incense burners, and pieces of artwork among other things 9S has no name for are scattered across the ground, each one a priceless human artifact that could fuel hours of study. Yet it’s not these that hold 9S’ attention, but the statue at the far back of the chapel, and the figure kneeling in front of it.

It looks to be made of some kind of marble, a pristine white stone that has been sheltered from time and the elements. The subject is another winged human, this one wearing splendid armor and wielding a great spear. Beneath them, a grotesque, writhing beast bares its teeth and claws at the warrior as the blade pierces its throat. 9S has never seen anything like it in person, and very few records of these kinds of sculptures remain at all. It’s both horrific and beautiful at once. He wonders what the human who made this saw that inspired it. Did creatures like these roam the world during their time?

2B steps in front of him, Virtuous Contract at the ready. The figure in front of the statue rises to their feet as the Pod’s flashlights center on them. A cloak made of feathers conceals most of their form but they appear to be a female android, perhaps a YorHa model. Though, if that were the case it would have been in the mission briefing. That is, unless... 

The android turns her head to the side, glaring at the pair over her shoulder.

“So, Command sent the wolves, did they?” She asks, a distinct rumble in her voice.

2B raises her blade and keeps her gaze steady. She hears 9S also ready his weapon, the golden katana Cruel Oath. 

Lazily, the android turns her body to face them. Her clothes confirm her origins; there’s no mistaking the sharp white embellishments and black velvet of a YorHa uniform; however each piece is ripped, tattered, and stitched together with other scraps of clothing or… animal hide. 

The rouge android drags the blade of a bloodied top heavy sword between her fingers, cleaning the gore from it. “It doesn’t matter, dog.” Her eyes shine with a strange, purplish light that refracts around her collapsed, twisted pupils. “You will fall like the rest.”

It isn’t until the rogue android rushes forward, sword raised, that 2B sees the corpses of YorHa units piled in front of the statue, and the blood that soaks it.

She dashes backward and shoves the bewildered 9S out of harm's way. The android’s bloodied sword crashes into the stonework floor, sending thousands of years of dust into the air. 2B lunges, her katana poised to take advantage of the enemy’s opening, but she sidesteps much quicker than anticipated. The rogue’s fist slams into 2B’s chest, distorting her internal sensors and throwing her off balance. 2B watches in horror as the rogue drives her sword towards her, but a golden flash knocks the blade away. 

“2B!” 9S shouts, brandishing Cruel Oath. “Are you okay?!”

She shakes her head as if it would clear the internal errors from her vision, but she assumes her battle stance next to her partner. “Fine.”

Both androids launch into an assault on the rogue, attacking in tandem. Despite 2B’s scrambled sensors, she and 9S have an undeniable synergy that comes with countless missions. 2B forces the rogue back with singular, powerful blows, while 9S jabs at any opening he can reach from the sides. However, even with their combined might the rogue deflects and maneuvers out of the way of each attack as casually as one would flick away an insect or step around a puddle. She looks to be expending no effort at all as she dances around the two YorHa. Anger and frustration rises in 2B, culminating in a harsh growl. She mimics the rogue’s tactic from earlier, rushing forward and feinting with a crushing overhead strike that is easily dodged but allows no time for recovery. She slams her fist into the rogue android’s face, sending her stumbling backwards. Before 9S can dive in with a horizontal slash the rogue dashes backward, putting crucial distance between her and her hunters.

The rogue android lowers her gaze at the pair, sizing them up, taking stock of their abilities and assessing their weaknesses. 2B watches her eyes dart back and forth between her and 9S, then linger on 9S. Sensing the rogue’s motive and deciding at that moment that the outcome is unacceptable, 2B dives in front of the strike meant for 9S. The rogue’s sword slices cleanly through her chest, coating the rogue’s clothes in splatters of fresh blood. The battler falls to her knees, clutching the wound with one hand while supporting herself on her sword. 

“No!!” 9S screams and lunges at their target. “2B!!”

“Hm. Interesting.” The rogue murmurs, easily deflecting the scanner’s wild strikes.

2B watches through blurred, error obscured vision as 9S drives the rogue back. If she didn’t know any better it’d seem that he has the upper hand, but the rogue’s eyes glint in a way 2B recognizes all too well. She’s baiting him. 

9S slams his blade against the rogue’s, pressing all of his power and weight into the strike. It’s the moment she had been waiting for. Suddenly she pulls back, letting 9S’ weight fall forward and forcing him off balance. She kicks his legs out from under him then shoves him into the floor. 9S lets out a startled, choked gasp as his weight and the force of the rogue’s attack cracks the stone floor, sending up more clouds of dust into the air. 

Clutching her chest, 2B roars and charges at the target with blinding speed. When she sees the smirk twisting the rogue’s lips and the pointed iron rod in her grip, it’s too late. With a flash of her crowfeather cape, the android meets 2B’s charge with her own, the skewer aimed at her wounded chest. 2B tries to divert her body away, but the momentum is too strong. It’s just enough to roll her body to the side so that the spike pierces clean through her shoulder, clear of critical systems. 

The pain, however, is agonizing. 

It’s different from the injuries 2B has suffered in the past. Countless machine swords, spears, and axes have torn through her body and of course all of those injuries hurt, but they were manageable. When the iron bar rips through layers of cloth, skin, carbon plating and frame, and synthetic muscle fibers it's as if her shoulder has been set on fire. She clenches her teeth, muffling a scream to a low growl. Her hand wraps around the skewer, close to the wound itself. Instinct tells her to tear it out immediately, but she knows that without treatment doing so would only worsen her condition. 2B doesn’t get to make that decision, unfortunately. The rogue grabs hold of the end of the iron rod and twists it side to side, driving it further into 2B’s shoulder. 

2B sinks to her knees and tries to hold back the cries of agony. Her injured arm stops responding to commands and lies limp and useless against her side. She swats at the rogue android with her weakening other arm, desperate to escape from this torment. Her strength fades along with her vision; it becomes impossible to even hold herself upright.

She must not fall, she must not… she must stay strong, she must stay alive.

She will not allow him to die… 

Not for the sake of a monster like her….

9S leaps into the fight as the rogue android prepares a killing blow. A flurry of Pod fire, sword strikes, and furious movement all blur together into a white, gold, and black haze. She fights to stay awake, she fights to stand, but her body begins to shut down non-vital systems and conserve as much energy as she can. First her tactile sensors switch off, leaving her in a numbing cold. Then her hearing, quickly followed by sight. A warning flashes across the last vestiges of her vision that she is entering a forced shutdown state, and despite her audio sensors being deactivated, she swears she hears 9S cry out for her.

….

….

…….

………

……….

……..

….

2B opens her eyes to the blinding, sterile white of hacking space. This itself is not shocking. Oftentimes she would run diagnostics on her critical systems when in a forced shutdown, both to manage critical systems and to keep herself busy. 

But now, in the distance, there is an anomaly.

A single figure, black as night, approaches her. It’s shape is human up till its head, which sports pointed ears and a long snout like that of a dog or wolf. It looms over her and leaves a black, fragmented mist in its wake. But most troubling of all in this world of stark monochrome is its eye…. or what 2B believes is an eye. In the center of its lupine face is a strange geometric sigil that emits a highly saturated purple light. It feels… malicious. The thought itself is insane to 2B. Light cannot possess intent or emotions, and yet… 

“This is an unacceptable outcome.” A voice booms in her head. Somehow she knows it is the entity speaking. 

2B opens her mouth to respond, but instead of words, thick crimson fluid leaks from her throat.

“You will die. He will die. You cannot abide by this.”

She shakes her head. Droplets of blood fall to the pristine floor. The entity is right. If she has any strength left, 9S will live.

“Stand, little doll,” the entity commands, “Stand and unleash y-...Be——…..d.”

The entity’s voice becomes warped and distorted with audio glitches, yet 2B understands its words with frightening clarity.

“Take-......l-...s within.” 

It holds a hand out to her, offering her something she can’t quite make out. The shape in its palm is amorphous, colorless, and flickers with lines of jumbled code. Somehow, she knows this piece of herself in intimate detail, yet cannot remember what this does or what its relation to the entity is. 

But it promises strength enough to save 9S.

2B reaches out and takes the code in her hand… 

….

………….

…………………………

………………………………………………………..

Her eyes snap open. A current of raw energy runs through her body, electrifying every nerve and sensor within her. She shakes with each pulse of her circulatory apparatus as a new, terrifying strength takes hold. 2B rises to her feet, flexing her hands, legs, arms. One arm’s movement is restricted by the iron bar still stuck in her shoulder. She tears it out with little effort, casting it to the floor. The rattling, hollow sound echoes against the stone chapel. 

The rogue’s head snaps up from her combat with 9S, who is barely able to hold his sword. Something in her expression changes. She kicks 9S and points her sword at 2B, her arms shaking in a way they had not before. 

2B lunges forward, her sword raised high. The rogue raises her own sword to deflect, but 2B’s newfound strength breaks her guard with one mighty strike. With blinding speed 2B slices through the rogue android’s body. Her crowfeather cape flutters to the floor, soon followed by her arm. The rouge android staggers back, an expression of shock and horror twisting her face. 2B drives her sword through the rogue’s chest, forcing her back further. Instead of drawing her sword back for another strike, a terrifying feeling takes over 2B. She leaves the sword inside the rogue’s chest and tackles her to the ground. With her bare hands and horrible strength, 2B delivers blow after blow to the android’s chest, shoulder, arms, head, and abdomen. Each piece is reduced to a pulp of flesh and metal one after the next until nothing remains but scrap. 

2B throws her head back as she straddles her victim, a horrible, twisted grin plastered across her face and arms outstretched. Her body feels wrong… horribly wrong, yet for the first time since she can remember, her chest is light. She gazes up at the morbid sculpture with an emotion she can’t quite describe. It isn’t the same as a combat high, she is intimately familiar with that heady rush. This is something akin to… euphoria. A laugh begins to bubble up in her throat-

“2B?”

She’s forced back to reality by the 9S’ voice, right beside her ear. Suddenly, the terrible strength from moments before fades from her body. Her arms go limp by her sides, and it becomes hard to sit upright. Even breathing is laborious. 9S wraps his arms around her shoulders and tugs her gently, laying her head and shoulders against his chest.

“I’ve got you. We… I think we’re safe.” His breathing is uneven and ragged, much like 2B’s. He swivels his head back and forth, searching for any lingering threats as quickly as possible. “Pod, run a scan for machine lifeform or android signals in the immediate area,” he commands.

Pod 153 is silent for a moment, then emits a grating, hideous garbled noise. Words try to break through the audio distortions but neither 2B or 9S is confident it isn’t simply what they wish to hear. 

“Alert:” Pod 042 begins, “Interference from unknown source is preventing accurate scans of the surrounding area. Proposal: Relocate to an elevated aaaaaaa…..a-r-....rrr……”

The same audio distortions come from 042, mingling with 153’s until they both cut off, leaving the androids in silence. “Pod?” 9S calls to the floating support unit. “Pod, respond. ... Pod?”

2B mutters weakly to her own Pod, but it's the same as 9S’. No response at all.

9S pulls up a small data screen, map data, from what 2B can tell. Or… where map data would be. Instead, there’s a blank, grey screen and a little message box that reads No Data. 

“What the-...” 9S whispers, flipping through different screens at a frantic pace. “Where-... There’s… all the data is gone!” he shouts, “No map, no signal scans… I can’t even connect to the Bunker…”

“We’re stranded…” 2B muses aloud.

Silence passes between them. Only the ominous wind passing through ancient wood and stone reminds them that the world hasn’t stopped moving around them. 

“We should move to a higher area, like your Pod said.” 9S suggests, rising to his feet. “Can you stand?”

When 9S offers a hand out to her, 2B takes it without thinking. His touch, even through his thick gloves, calms the beast pacing inside her. 

Beast? 

…..What does that mean?

2B rises to her feet, her hands lingering in 9S’ for a moment longer than she normally would. There’s a fog in her head that distorts her equilibrium. She leans on 9S for support, to which he wraps his arm around her waist and positions himself under her shoulder.

“I got you.” He says with a small smile.

2B feels just a bit lighter.

They exit the chapel and make for higher ground. 9S rationalizes that if they simply continue up stairs or inclines they would find a space clear of whatever is interfering with the Pod’s satellite connections. Perhaps it’s the fog that creeps across the cobblestone streets or the odd angle of the sun (not that it makes sense to 9S or 2B but they have to consider all possibilities), or perhaps it’s something beyond that. There’s a strange, eerie feeling about this city that neither can explain, and neither want to talk about. As if there’s a presence constantly watching over them.

They climb the stairs of one of the massive sprawling religious buildings. From what 9S assesses, it seems to have one of the tallest spires in the city. Only a larger time-keeping building looming in the distance is larger. If he could reach the top he should be far enough above whatever is interfering with the Pods. When he relays his plan to 2B who only nods, her eyes unfocused and breathing shallow, worry starts to lace its icy fingers through his chest. Something is wrong with her. 

9S’ first instinct is to prepare a data backup with the bunker, but the Pods are both out of commission for the time being. His next is to contact command and ask how they should proceed, to the same conclusion. Climbing the spire is the only course of action he can take, but first, he has to make sure 2B is safe.

He leads her through the castle of worship, now supporting most of her weight. That… frightening show of strength must have exhausted her power supply. There are plenty of well preserved wooden benches that stretch across half of the main worship chambers, at least it would be more comfortable than the stone floors. Under watch by the countless grotesque statues that sit in the rafters, 9S helps 2B onto a long bench, laying her on her back. She hisses and grinds her teeth as she moves. She must have sustained internal damage from that fight… 

“I’ll be right back,” he promises, “I’m going to go to the roof to get a clear signal.”

All 2B gives in response is a slow nod. He lingers by her side before leaving, a moment longer than needed.

Now alone in this spacious, hollow, human structure, 2B takes stock of her condition. There’s pain in her shoulders, particularly her right arm. Her legs are tight, most locking up from the strain of the previous battle and trekking up to her current location. Her back, as well, is tense beyond discomfort. It spasms and jolts if she breathes too hard. At least these are injury related, explainable. The black wolfman with purple eyes lingering in the corners of her vision, is not. 

She sees the entity in the shadows, lurking just out of view. 9S walks right past it, not even sparing a glance at the tall, gangly creature. It doesn’t respond to 9S either, instead focusing on 2B and only 2B. 

The sight of it makes her stomach turn. She tries to close her eyes, but the glowing, purple sigil is burned into her vision. With a groan she digs her knuckles into her eyelids as if she could carve the hallucination out of the air. Defeated, 2B lets her arms down once more. One hand touches the cool stone floor, decorated with elegant mosaics, and she suddenly realizes how warm she is. According to the warning messages displayed in her vision her body temperature is ten degrees above normal levels. 

“Pod,” she groans, forcing herself to sit up, “retrieve water from storage-”

“Report: Mail notification received from Command.”

The monotone voice of her support unit shocks her. Pod 042 had been silent up until now due to whatever interference was in the area, and now it’s getting messages from Command? 9S must have established a connection from the roof.

Her heart sinks. If that’s the case he would contact her. The first thing she’d hear would be his voice.

She opens the message, dreading its contents.

Subject has accessed confidential records. Eliminate the Target.

At the top of the spire 9S takes in the view of the entire city, the wind rushing through his hair. It’s breathtaking. It’s unlike anything he’s ever seen. The sky dyes the entire urban sprawl red, as well as the mountains on the horizon. His pulse races as he drinks in the terrifying awe of what the ancient humans were capable of, hoping to remember every last detail of the buildings, the streets, and the magnificent sculptures that litter the city. It’s all so well preserved that he feels as though a human might appear, walking down the cobblestone streets as if nothing were wrong. As if they didn’t go extinct. 

Reluctantly he draws his attention away from the splendor of humanity’s ruins, and shakes away the creeping emptiness that comes with that line of thought. He can’t think about that now. He and 2B are stranded. 9S produces a holographic terminal that mirrors Pod 153’s settings menu. Pod’s diagnostics on his end show buildup of foreign material in and around certain receivers, something that 9S expects, but that is only part of the problem. It seems that the atmosphere in this place is clogged with various chemicals and particles that make satellite transmissions more difficult. Considering all of the decaying metal and stone it’s no wonder that there’s so much particulate in the air. Once Pod’s receivers are clear 9S has Pod 153 hover just above the spire’s tip. It stays suspended in the air, the small light on the top of its body turning on and off at regular intervals.

“Connection established.” Pod 153 announces moments later. “Proposal: Contact the Bunker for support.”

“Great! Set up a relay connection for Pod 042 as well.”

“Affirmative.”

9S opens a data screen laden with information and begins composing his message to Operator 21O. With an unreliable connection a live call would be too risky, a simple text based message won’t be distorted or cut out. He records a brief message, attaches a transcription of his words, and sends it to the Bunker. Hopefully 21O would send something quickly-

A flash of movement in the streets below catches his eye. Something running on all fours... “Pod… run a scan for machine lifeforms…” He says, a chill creeping up his spine.

Pod 153 floats down to his side. “Alert: Multiple machine lifeforms detected. Proposal: Regroup with Unit 2B.”

“But-” 

That thing didn’t look like a machine…

“Alert: Anomalous signal detect-”

Pod 153’s words are drowned by a horrific, mournful howl that reverberates through the entire building. 9S clings to the ornate decorations on the spire and covers his ears with his free hand. His body runs cold. He’s never heard a sound like that before. Nothing the machines make comes close to that. The pain and sorrow in that noise is something that no animal could produce either. That left only one possibility…

Another roar wracks the building from within… 

2B clutches the sides of her head, the data screen long dismissed.

No…

Her chest strains under her panicked breaths. 

No.

She hadn’t been watching him. She hadn’t been keeping track of his questions and behavior…

No… No.

And now she…

No no no no no .

She has to…

no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no.

NO.

She will not do this. Not again. 

Her skin feels… tight. 

She will fight off every single goddamn android Command sends until there are none left but her and him. She will not be a part of this cycle again. Her hands curl into fists as a surge rushes through her body, alighting her nerves with energy. With power.

A shadow moves across the stone floor of the castle of worship. The entity, its form inky black, its sigil emitting a baleful purple light, glides towards her. It bathes her in the highly saturated light, a light not even shielding her eyes can diffuse. It bores into her core, it peers into her mind. It speaks into her mind.

“You will not allow this to happen.” Its voice echoes off the hollow shell of where humans once sought God. “But strength comes at a price, little doll.”

The entity plunges its claws into her chest. Heat explodes throughout her body to the point where she fears she might self-destruct. The boiling tendrils of this ethereal monster sink into her artificial heart and her Black Box. Something activates, or… unlocks, and suddenly she feels… confined. Her body… it’s too small….

“Time to pay the toll…”

It rips its claws, now writhing shadow-like whips, out of her chest, then vanishes. 2B’s vision is obscured, but not by warnings and error messages, by blood. Red veins pulse on the edges of her sight in time with her heart. Each beat sends waves of heat, electricity, and agony through her body.

“Stand, little doll. Stand, and unleash your beasthood.”

A scream forms in 2B’s throat, but it cannot break through her swelling throat and gritted teeth. She takes frantic, shallow breaths. Her limbs shake, her fingernails dig into the stonework floor. It’s so hot… 

2B rolls onto the floor and rips away her tight uniform. Far too tight. Parts of her dress were already beginning to tear as her muscles swell. Blood trickles from various wounds where her skin has split, revealing the thick, synthetic muscle cords that lie beneath. Her blindfold is next, but removing it does not help her vision. One eye is unfocused, blurring all of her vision.

She drags her fingernails across her body and lets out a deep, animal snarl when she tears into her own flesh. Looking down at her hands, she recoils at the sight of long, black claws that split her fingers down the center. Skin falls from them in long strips to the point where the mechanical joints of her hands are exposed.

Something snaps inside her, somewhere in her upper back. She howls in agony, in sorrow, as her spine lengthens, twists, and grows too fast for her body to maintain. Her insides are compacted and grind against each other, sending sickening vibrations throughout her. Her throat finally opens up, allowing her to breathe. She watches as puffs of steam escape her mouth into the warm twilight air. 

Another crack and something explodes out of her lower back. Her balance is thrown off and she falls forward, smashing her face into stone. Another snarl, this one combined with the gnashing of fangs. Her mouth warps, splitting out of her face into a muzzle. Eyes follow, one swelling to fit its now spacious socket while the other stunts and refuses to change. She claws at the peeling skin of whatever she can reach, spilling more of her blood in the process. Everything hurts, everything itches, but oh god the power feels so good.

A growth springs from above her unchanged eye, weighing her head down and hunching her body over. She supports herself with one enormous hand, the other scooping the wires and tubing that spills out of her torn stomach and forcing them back inside her abdominal cavity. The twisting extension of her spine, a tail, thuds against the floor and counters the weight of her head. 

2B shakes the mane of bloodied, white hair from her functioning eye, turns her head to the sky, and roars.

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone - Chapter 36

Title: Empty

Warnings: profanity, some angst

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @tragiclyhip, @miss-smutty, @alievans007​

He watches her as she stands in front of the Christmas tree; countless strings of light bathing pale, smooth skin in a multicoloured glow. She’s at her most beautiful during moments like this; enjoying silence and the relief and relaxation that comes with a warm and comfy house, clad in an oversized plaid nightshirt and her hair slightly damp from a much needed and deserved soak in the tub. She’s always been naturally beautiful; appearing much younger than her actual age and make up only taking away from her features instead of accenting or showcasing them. She’d been perfectly at home in Australia right from the start and had easily adapted to -and adopted- the casual ‘beach’ vibe; constantly bare foot and clad in tanks and shorts with wind swept hair and sun kissed cheeks and the hint of salt lingering on her skin.

While she’d been breathtaking from the very moment he’d laid eyes on her, she’s only become even more so over the years; his love for her growing with each passing day and bringing with it a new found wonderment for every inch of her. Body thicker now; cheeks rounder, breasts fuller, hips wider and curves in all the right places. It’s an appreciation made stronger by not only a strong and seemingly unbreakable bond, but a friendship as well; his truest and most loyal confidant and the keeper of his deepest and darkest secrets and his biggest and most fervent supporter. And the mother of his children. Willingly giving him the large brood that he so desperately had graved; selflessly sacrificing her own body and allowing it to become a safe haven for all the incredible little human beings that would grow and thrive inside of her. Watching someone grow bigger with your child and then become a mother brings on a whole new level of adoration and respect; putting them even higher on the pedestal that you long ago constructed for them.

Her body sways from side to side; slowly and rhythmically in an attempt to keep Tabby quiet and content. The baby had spent the better part of an hour extremely unsettled; fussy and irritable as she continued to fight sleep without the comfort of either parent. They’d offered to keep both children and Ovi and Riya had jumped at the chance; planning on coffee and dessert at an all night cafe close to their home in Queens. With two little ones and his hectic and overwhelming schedule at the hospital, it makes it nearly impossible for them to get any alone time together; much needed considering the several months of non stop wedding planning and the stress and headaches that had accompanied it. Ovi would return for his daughters -and for breakfast with the family- in the morning; Tabby accompanying him and Tanner to the American Museum of Natural History while Micki got to enjoy time with grandpa and lunch and a shopping spree at the American Doll store.

The time together as a family is rare; thousands of miles and a handful of different time zones separating them. Moving to New York City simply out of the question; neither Tyler or any of the kids fully able to get comfortable and happy in a much bigger and chaotic place. Australia is where their hearts are; their dream home tucked away at the end of a gravel street and accompanied by acres of both forest and beach. It’s quiet and it’s relatively secluded; giving him the privacy that he craves and the sense of the security that he needs in regards to his family. And while Esme had spent years living in the Big Apple and had loved her time there and once dreamed endlessly about going back and finding an area to settle down in, those feelings have long dissipated. Content with simply visiting a handful of times throughout the year; getting to experience the different seasons and enjoying the magic of a white Christmas and loving the convenience of being somewhere so vast and populated.

He had mentioned it a time or two; perhaps moving back to the States and calling the brownstone their permanent residence while using their home in Cooktown as their ‘getaway’ spot. But she’d vehemently argued against it; not keen on the idea of permanently living in her country of origin. Her happiness and her own sense of peace long ago settled Down Under; falling in love with the people and experiencing genuine awe and wonderment with every stunning sunset and brilliant sunrise. It’s where her heart is. Where it always HAS been. She left it behind years ago when they’d been forced to flee; her happiness lingering in that little two bedroom apartment that they’d called home. It hadn’t been much; the rooms shockingly small and filled with second hand furniture. But it’s where their love for each other had been fully discovered; getting to know each other -outside of sex- while he recovered from the wounds suffered in Dhaka and she’d been growing and nurturing their child inside of her.

Most of all, he’d enjoyed having her -the love of his life- in his homeland; marvelling at how she so effortlessly blended in, proud of how not only the locals so willingly and easily accepting and falling in love with her, but how she handled being thousands of miles away from her own home. Although he was -and still is- notoriously private and withdrawn, she made acquaintances so easily; Aussies quickly drawn to that bubbly personality and that cheerful and positive outlook on life despite everything she’d been through. She’d taken the place by storm; falling in love with her new life and thriving in the environment and getting up every day ready to tackle the mountain of change just dropped into her lap. Her dreams still haunted by what had taken place in Bangladesh, but her heart still so open and accepting; taking every opportunity to explore everything around her and quickly returning to loving life and everything in it. And even on the hardest of days, she’d never fail to make him smile. The way she’d giggle when learning all the slang words or how her nose would crinkle in disgust and she’d give a long, drawn out ‘ewwww’ whenever he attempted to turn her into a Vegemite lover. The fascination in her eyes whenever they’d hit up a zoo or a wildlife reserve and she’d get to come face to face with some of Australia’s most famous of creatures; crying when she got to hold an orphaned koala and then staring in absolute amazement when a kangaroo Joey hopped over and ate goodies straight out of her hand. Even at the beach she was like a little kid on Christmas morning; not quite enjoying the feeling of the sand between her toes, but marvelling at the expanse of the ocean and the way the sunlight sparkled on the water.

Even now she remains in awe of the life she’d been given; he still sees that disbelief that captures her face during a particularly stunning sunset. Mesmerized -and even moved to tears- by the colours; vivid shades of purple, pink and orange. Always expressing how grateful she is. In awe that she’d been given such an amazing opportunity; an incredible life in a beautiful place with someone that loves and worships her and children that absolutely adore her.

He doesn’t speak as he joins her; placing both hands on her shoulders and pressing a kiss to the back of her head. He savours the moment. Eyes closed and his palms running up and down her arms; face buried in her hair as he deeply inhales the familiar yet still alluring scent that clings to those dark, damp tresses. And with a peck to the cheek he steps alongside of her; hand moving to her shoulder as he tucks her tightly into her side.

“She okay?”

Esme nods, then smiles down at the little one resting along her arm. Still fighting sleep but quiet and content; snuggled tightly into her grandmother’s chest and wrapped tightly in Addie’s well loved blanket. “She is now. You just had a bit of a hard time, didn’t you Tabby. You were just missing momma.”

He moves his hand down and settles it on her hip. Reaching across her with the other, a callused palm rests gently on the top of the baby’s head; his thumb smoothly and repeatedly brushing against her brow. Tabby gives a content sigh and long yawn in response; enormous brown eyes -constantly fluttering as they continue their valiant battle to stay open- staring up at him.

Esme tugs the faded and tattered blanket upwards, smoothing it around Tabby's tiny body.

“Everyone asleep?”

“The oldest are still awake. I told them to keep it down. So they wouldn’t wake the littles up. I might have threatened them a couple times; told them I’d take their tablets away AND throw them...the kids...not the iPads...out into the snow.”

“Might work for a little bit. I think they’re used to you by now ; they know daddy is full of empty threats.”

“Guess it will really shock the shit out of them when I finally do act on it and out they go.”

“I’ll see it when I believe it. I’ll probably be the one that snaps first and DOES offer them as sacrifices to the sharks.”

“That threat held in there longer than I thought it would. We still have three that fall for it.”

“Let’s hope it continues for a little while more. She’s perfect, isn’t she?” Esme muses, beaming down at the baby and then up at him. “Absolutely perfect.”

“She is,” he agrees, and places a lingering kiss to his wife’s temple.

“And so beautiful,” she looks down at their granddaughter once more. “Just like her mommy.”

“And like her grandma.”

She gives a quiet laugh and looks up at him. It’s always there; all that love and adoration and pride that she possesses for him. It never fails to make his breath catch; overwhelmed by the amount of blind faith and trust that she holds for him. “As much as I appreciate you feeding my ego, that compliment would only work if we were biologically related.”

“Doesn’t matter, babe. You’re beautiful. And I love you. So fucking much.”

“Christmas time always gets you right in the feels, doesn’t it,” she teases, and then moves to stand in front of him; body pressed tightly into his and the back of her head resting against his chest.

“Not just Christmas lately. A lot of things, it seems.”

“I like it. When you’re sweet and sappy.” She tilts her head back to look up at him, a soft smile curving her lips. “And adorable.”

“You know, I SHOULD divorce you for that. Of all the insults you’ve hurled at me…”

“I swear you’d rather me call you a dick head or a shit for brains. Accept it, you’re adorable. You will never, EVER, change my mind. And divorce me? You’d never. You’d miss me way too much. You’d miss me and all my bullshit.”

“I actually would. Would you miss mine? All my crap?”

“I don’t know about that. You CAN be really tiring.”

He frowns.

“I’m kidding. I would take every single ounce of your bullshit over not having you around. You’re relatively tame, considering. Everything you've been through? All the shit handed to you since you were a kid? You could be A LOT worse.”

“That’s a compliment, yeah? I THINK that’s a compliment.”

“It definitely is. When I think about what you've been through? From the time you were little until now? It’s remarkable. That you’re as normal and sane as you are.”

Smirking, he leans down to press a kiss to the tip of her nose. “Did you really put me and normal and sane in the same sentence?”

“Considering what your father did to you, being in the army and out there in war zones, AND being a mercenary? Babe, you’re lucky to be how you are. You realize that, right? That you could be SO much worse. You could have totally gone in another direction; when it comes to your personal life. You could have easily turned out violent and aggressive and a complete prick. You know how many times I saw that? You know how many mercenaries I came in contact that were horrible, horrible people? Ninety nine percent of them. You? You were...ARE...a total study in contradiction.”

“I guess I never thought about it that way. How much worse things could be. I could be.”

“You could have turned out to be the worst case scenario. You could have been one those that actually LOVED killing other people. Just thrived and got off on the violence and the bloodshed. You could have turned out to be like Gaspar.”

“That’s a little...unsettling.”

“Right? He was nuts. A total sociopath. Look how quick he was to backstab you! Someone he’d known for years! Someone who’d saved his life! He was ready to kill you. To get to me and Ovi. All because you WEREN’T like him. And don’t even get me started on that whole killing doves thing. DOVES. The bird of peace! What the hell kind of person kills THEM?”

“A pretty messed up one.”

“My point exactly. He WAS messed up. Huge. And you could have so easily gone that way. Especially hanging around him. Having him for a friend? That could have been bad news.”

“First off, he wasn’t really what I’d call a friend. It's not like I saw him outside of work. I never visited him, he never visited me, we never talked on the phone or texted or anything like that. Any interaction I had with him was done on the job. And when I WAS around him? I was drunk. That’s what we had in common. Getting wasted.”

“The way he acted and the way he talked, you would have thought you’d been friends since the two of you were in diapers. I still can’t believe he screwed you like he did. You SAVED his ass. And that’s how repays you? Like what the hell?”

“Babe, it’s a long time ago. And yeah, it sucks. It was a bitch move on his part. But I was never, EVER, going to go along with what he wanted.”

“I only asked that once. Five years ago. If you even considered it for a second. I never meant to suggest you were that person Tyler. And I still feel like shit for that. I never meant to hurt you. And I know what I said did. And I’m still sorry I ever said it.”

“Trust me, there’s a long list of things I’m sorry for. Things that I kick myself in the ass for every day. I regret EVER taking you and the kid there.”

“You were just doing what you thought was best. We didn’t really have options, did we. There was really nowhere else for us to go. No way you could have known what he was going to do. It’s not your fault, Tyler. The way things ended up. I’ve never blamed you for any of it.”

“I know.” Curling his arm around her waist, he drops a kiss on the top of her head. “Let’s stop this where it is, yeah? There’s no need to talk about it. It was thirteen years ago almost. And I know you’re still pissed and you’re having a hard time getting over some of the stuff that happened. I get it. There’s still shit that bothers me. But can we at least let it lie for now? Until we get home? And bring this all up at therapy? That’s the place it needs to be brought up, don’t you think?”

“You’re right. This is definitely not the place and certainly not the time. Not when I’ve got this little sweetie with me.” She smiles down at the baby in her arms; body commencing its slow and smooth swaying. And she places a hand on Tabby’s stomach; all five fingers immediately curling around one of hers. “He did good, huh? Ovi?”

Tightening his hold on her, he rests his chin on the top of her head. “He did real good. He’s come a long way that’s for sure.”

“He really has. He’s a man now. With his own family. He’s going to be a DOCTOR. Sometimes it seems like just yesterday; trying to keep him calm in that factory in Dhaka. Now he’s living in Queens and he’s got a soon to be wife and two beautiful little girls. How did that happen? How did he grow up so fast? It’s like I blinked and he went from boy to man.”

“It’s been almost thirteen years, Me. As hard as that is to believe. And a lot’s happened in that thirteen years.”

“You’re not kidding me. If someone had told me, when I walked out of your place, that you were going to go from being my fake husband to my real one? I would have told them they were nuts. That was so not on my radar; getting into a serious relationship, never mind MARRYING someone.”

He nuzzles the tip of his nose against her ear, then presses a kiss to the lobe. “I knew it. You really did just want me for my body. Sex. That’s all I was to you. A piece of ass.”

“Maybe at first,” she admits, and then giggles when he playfully nips at the side of her neck. “But somewhere between the third and sixth orgasm, I realized that hey, maybe there IS something to be had out of all this.”

“So basically you came to that on the first day. Because if I do remember correctly, we didn’t just get down to business once. And you were on your fifth orgasm by the second round, so…”

“I realized very quickly that there was something different about you. Something that you didn’t let many people see. You weren’t like anyone I’d ever met on the job. Especially other mercenaries. You were special, Tyler Rake. I recognized that pretty early on.”

“Man, your standards really WERE low.”

“My standards happened to be very high, thank you very much. Which is why I went on my eighteen month sexual sabbatical after Mark. So what does that tell you? You had to do something awesome to get me to break. And you broke me right quick, let me tell you. I actually thought maybe you would break me a couple times, actually. Physically speaking.”

“You shocked me. That someone so tiny could take so much. From a guy so much bigger. You weren’t scared? Not once? Not even when I grabbed you by the neck?”

“Nope. I’ve never had a reason to be scared of you. Not even back then. I saw it in your eyes; you weren’t trying to hurt me. You were trying to protect yourself. You didn’t want me getting too close. And you didn’t want to feel anything. YOU were the one that was scared..”

“I was,” he admits. “It scared the hell out of me. That I WAS feeling things for you. Especially that quick. I never thought it was possible. To be that into someone so fast. Always thought was bullshit when I heard people talk about it. Then I met you. All five foot nothing and a buck twenty soaking wet. And boy did you turn my world upside down.”

She smiles and turns her face into his, tip of her nose pressed into the side of his. “In all the best ways though, right?”

“Nothing but the best, Me. Smartest thing I ever did? Agree to that job.”

“I told Ovi the same thing tonight. That it was the smartest decision I’ve ever made. I mean, it was crazy and it was weird and it was twisted, but it led me somewhere...and to SOMEONE...so beautiful and amazing. I don’t regret a single second, Tyler. Or any of the decisions I made. It was the best thing I ever did. YOU’RE the best thing I ever did.”

A grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Are we talking just sexually or…?”

She laughs. “You totally blew it out of the water. Sexually speaking. And you continue to you ALL the time. But I mean in EVERY way. You’re everything I could have ever asked for. In a best friend, a partner, a husband, a baby daddy. You just came into my life and everything changed. I changed. It’s all been worth it. Even the bad times.”

“You know how you always say I have a habit of making you cry at the holidays? You're giving me a run for my money.”

“Even men deserve to hear all that mushy stuff. No matter how big and strong and how bad ass they are. And you, husband, re very big and strong and bad ass. And I love every damn inch of you.”

“Baby, I love you.” Tears sparkle in his eyes as he presses a kiss to the bridge of his nose. “And thank you; I DID need to hear all that.”

“I should tell you more often. And I would. If I wasn’t afraid your head would get too big to fit through the door.”

“Always following up the corny shit with some shitty, smart ass comment. That’s my girl,” He slides his hand under the bottom of his shirt and traces a fingertip around her navel; chuckling when she shivers against him and shoves his hand away.

For several minutes they stand in silence; his arm once more wrapped tightly around her waist and her head resting back against his chest. Both watching the child being rocked in her arms, his hand seemingly even larger and more powerful as it rests upon the baby’s coal black hair; thumb continuing to brush across her forehead.

“Look at the way she watches you.” Esme says. “Look how big her eyes are. How they’re sparkling. What is what with you and babies? They always love you. Our babies could NEVER get enough of you.”

“I don’t know. Voice, maybe?”

“Could be. When you’re not pissed off about something and you’re totally relaxed and comfortable, it’s so deep and so soothing. Soft, even. I used to think about that all the time in Dhaka; how your voice would seem so different when we were in bed together and having those late night chats. YOU’D seem different, actually. You were so calm and you completely let your guard down and you were so...I don’t know...different. You weren’t the guy you were when we were out on the street. Not that there was anything wrong with THAT guy. That guy was insanely sexy and man, could rail me like no other. Just the other guy? The calmer one? He really set the bar high.”

“And now?”

“You’re still him. You’re still Tyler. You still have all the different sides and I still love them. I love them more and more every day.”

“How much have you had to drink tonight? Because I know you can be sappy, but you’re even sappier than usual.”

“I barely had any. I don’t even have the slightest buzz going on. I’m just feeling sentimental, I guess. Seeing how good Ovi is with Riya and the girls and finally coming to terms with him being a daddy and someone’s soon to be husband. It’s just brought up a lot of things. A lot of GOOD things. When it comes to us.”

“Like?”

“Just how we were when we first started out. When we first got married and I was having Millie and we’re living in that little apartment. You were still recovering and still had quite the road ahead of you, but just got your shit together and stood up. You were so good, Tyler. At everything. No matter how much pain you were in or how much you were struggling mentally to get over things. You just shelved your shit so you could be there for me. And our baby.”

“All that mattered to me was you. And our daughter. That’s it.”

“And you showed it. Time and time again. Best damn lamaze partner and labour coach EVER.”

“Even if I almost DID faint?”

“Even then. You were awesome. You were such a good daddy to be. You were so in awe of the whole thing. The way you’d always touch my belly and you’d read surfing magazines to her and you’d go out at three in the morning to get me fast food or ice cream. You never even complained. Well, maybe when you were in the car you did.”

“Honestly? No. I was just so fucking happy to be getting the chance to have another kid that I was enjoying every second. I wasn’t going to take anything for granted. Even middle of the night Maccas runs.”

“I mean it, you know. When I say I couldn’t have asked for a better father for my children. You’ve been incredible. Right from the start. I lucked out, that’s for sure.”

“I don’t know, Me. I think I got you beat in that department. Luck.”

“How about we both agree that we’re lucky? That we BOTH bring some amazing things to the table.”

“I don’t know…”

“We BOTH lucked out. Big time. We definitely both upgraded. From our first marriages.”

“We can definitely agree on that. I certainly made the right decision. When I got up the balls to ask you to marry me. Even if it was in the bathroom.”

“It was perfect. For us.”

“You know what else is perfect? Seeing you with her. Our granddaughter. Makes me think of all the times with our babies. Watching you with them. Thinking how beautiful it was. Being just so in awe of you. Is it wrong I kind of miss it? You with a baby? Even you pregnant?”

“No,” she shakes her head. “Not wrong at all. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss it. I mean, I always had issues, but I actually liked being pregnant. I liked watching my body change; my hair thickening and darkening and my boobs and my butt getting bigger.”

He grins and pecks her ear. “That last part was DEFINITELY my favourite.”

“And feeling them move inside of me. I didn’t matter how many times I went through it; it was always so amazing and beautiful to feel them. And you’d always get that dorky smile. That one that’s reserved solely for expectant dads. The one that says ‘hey, look what I did!’. You know, I should have had a t-shirt made for you. With those words on it. And an arrow pointing at my belly.”

“I would have worn it, too. Like I wear that Super Sperm every now and then.”

“I can NOT believe you do that,” she laughs. “It was meant as a joke. Not for you to wear it and be proud of it!”

“But I am proud of it. Of my accomplishment. I knocked you up FIVE times. A total of SEVEN babies. That’s some fucking skill, Me.”

“I don’t know if your boys are skilled or just plain lucky, but I’ll let you have it. Your pride in your handiwork. Congratulations, honey. You came inside of me. Quite the feat.”

“Listen smart ass,” he playfully pinches the sensitive area below her right rib cage. “Can’t you just let me have this? Can’t I have my moment? Those kids are the best thing I’ve ever done. Other than their mum, of course. She’s my favourite thing I’ve ever done.”

“You never miss the opportunity to be dirty do you. I do miss it, you know. Being pregnant, having a baby in the house. It’s kind of bittersweet; knowing it won’t happen again. I spent the better part of seven years pregnant. Starting with Millie and ending with the twins. We had seven kids in a VERY short period of time. It’s kinda hard to get used to; not having an infant or two around.”

“I mean, it COULD happen. We could both get things reversed and just hope for the best.”

“I don’t know if I can do it. If my body can even handle that. I think I’m babied out. As sad as that makes me to admit.”

“We could get a surrogate.”

“That’s a no from me. I know it’s an amazing thing and I admire the women who do it. I really do. But I do NOT like the idea of you having a baby with another woman.”

“You realize I don’t actually get to fuck them, right? I don’t get to actually enjoy the baby making process?”

“Of course I realize that. I just don’t like that idea. I’m not comfortable with it. Your sperm in someone else. Even if it WAS put there by a turkey baster.”

“A turkey baster?” He chuckles. “Is that seriously how it’s done? I do my thing into a cup and…?”

“I don’t know. Something like that I guess. I just can’t deal with that. The thought of your stuff inside of some other woman. Sounds stupid, right? Tell me it’s stupid. That I’m being totally irrational.”

“Actually, I get it. I understand where you’re coming from. If I couldn’t pitch in, I wouldn’t want some guy’s sperm being put into you.”

“Oh it wouldn’t just be put in me. I’d totally sleep with him.”

Tyler scowls. “Excuse me?”

“I’m kidding! You know I’m kidding! Baby, there is no other guy in this world I want to sleep with. You’re the only one I want to do those things with. Why turn around and settle for less when I already have the best? When I’m already married to someone that’s walking sex. A God among men. Only you, Tae. You’re the only one I want to sleep with.”

“Yeah?” He presses a series of kisses along the outer edge of her hair, followed by the length of her jaw. “You want to sleep with me tonight?”

She grins, then sighs when his teeth nip at the side of her throat. “I want to do A LOT of things with you tonight.”

“Oh really? Well in that case…” he places a kiss on her temple, lips lingering as his hand once more slips up the front of her shirt; fingertips grazing along the smooth skin just above the waistband of her pyjama pants. “...maybe we should close the house up for the night and go upstairs.”

“I think that’s a very good idea. Tell you what, I’ll lock everything up and set the alarms. You take your granddaughter and put her to bed. I already set the playpen up for her. In the den.”

“You already have her. Why don’t you do it?”

“Because you have a knack of getting babies off to sleep. You’re a natural. And besides, you doing the whole big, strong man with a baby thing? It totally turns me on.”

“Why didn’t you just say that in the first place?” He gently and carefully removes the baby from her arms. Holding Tabby tightly to his chest; a forearm under her bum and a hand on the back of her head.

“Very nice,” Esme enthuses. “Is it wrong that I’m wet for you already?”

He leans in to kiss her. “You’re dirty.”

She lays a hand on the side of his face, and kisses him eagerly in return, pausing when she giggles into his mouth. “You have that effect on me.”

******

“Adoption.”

His voice rumbles deep in his chest; reverberating against her back and tearing her away from the edge of sleep. Their love making had been a welcome change from the nights past. A bruising and punishing pace exchanged for something much slower and attentive; slow, deep thrusts that kept her whimpering in delight and her nails clawing at his back shoulders. Long and languid kisses; little pecks interspersed with the movement of closed mouth upon closed and followed by greedy yet explorative tongues. The degrading names and the filthy words replaced by whispered praises and declarations of love; her cheek cradled in the palm of his hand as he gazed down at her with so much admiration and adoration that it both brought tears to her eyes and took her breath away.

She’d been enjoying the sensation of his naked and sweat slicked body pressed against hers. Her back against the muscled and solid expanse of his chest and one of his thighs wedged between both of hers; a forearm stretched across her pillow and her head resting in the crook of his elbow. A large, strong hand hovering near her stomach; calloused fingertips tracing slow and intricate patterns on the skin. Her body completely sated and so relaxed and secure in his arms that sleep had come on quickly; encouraged by the soft breath that tickled the back of her neck and fluttered her hair.

“It’s what we should do,” he continues, as his index finger draws continuous circles around her navel. “Adopt.”

“Are you seriously back to thinking about that?

“Back to thinking about it? I haven’t STOPPED thinking about it.”

Esme frowns. “You were thinking about adoption while we were…?”

“Not WHILE we were. I did stop for THAT. I do have to concentrate more now, you know. I’m getting old.”

“Oh please…” Esme rolls her eyes. “...how many times have we had sex? In almost thirteen years? You could be fully comatose and still get things done. Muscle memory and all that. And you are NOT getting old. What’s the saying ? You’re only as old as you feel?”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? ‘Cause I feel like I’m ninety.”

“You have just as much stamina and enthusiasm now as you did when we met. If not MORE. You’re hardly getting old. What’s gotten into you lately? You’ve been talking about the weirdest things. Getting married again, having another baby, adopting a kid. Are you okay, honey? You don’t seem okay.”

“I’m pretty far from okay. I thought we established that a few days ago.”

“OTHER than that. What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing. Nothing is going on with me. It’s just things I’ve been thinking about. Things I want to do. With you.”

She rolls over onto her other side, settling her head on his bicep as she faces him. “Are you going through a midlife crisis? Is that what’s going on here? Last month, you went and got a motorcycle after I finally caved. You went back out into the field. You’ve started talking about wanting to renew our vows and how we could get things reversed and have another baby. Now you’re onto adoption. Is that what all this is? A midlife crisis?”

“No. It’s not. No one lives to be ninety four.”

“A LOT of people live to be ninety four, thank you very much.”

“Well I hate to break it to you, but I won’t be one of them. And nothing’s gotten into me and I’m not going through any kind of crisis. It’s just things that I have on my mind. That I’d like to do with you.”

“Well the baby thing is off the list. I can’t go through the whole process of having things reversed and MAYBE getting pregnant. There’s no guarantee I would and I honestly don’t think my body can handle it again. I had problems with EVERY pregnancy. And each time things got worse and worse. Do we really want to take that chance? That I do get pregnant and something horrible goes wrong?”

“Nothing went wrong with Takota and Brookie. It was the best pregnancy you had. I mean, you had the cramping and the bleeding in the first three months, but after that…”

“They each weighed eight pounds. Or close to it. They were BIG babies for twins. Do you want to take that chance again? That we’d have another set?”

“I highly doubt we would. That seems pretty unlikely.”

“We thought having a second set would be unlikely. But it happened. I had all kinds of problems with Addie; I almost lost her twice and she was early and so tiny when she finally came. I gave birth to Declan on our living room floor. And don’t get me started about TJ and Tanner. Because that was a nightmare. I can’t do it again, Tyler. I just can’t. I can’t put myself through that; procedures to reverse everything and then getting pregnant and something going wrong. I just can’t.”

“Okay, so we don’t go that way. We adopt. It’s not like we can’t afford it.”

“What is going on with you? I used to think it was a breeding kink. And I was more than happy to go along with it and I figured you’d just grow out of it. Now I’m starting to think it’s something more than that. What is your issue? About needing so many offspring? How come every time we agree to stop, you change your mind a few months or a couple years later?”

“I don’t HAVE an issue. Maybe I just like having kids with you. Having a big family. What’s wrong with that? It’s what we wanted, isn’t it? What we agreed on.”

“We agreed on three. Then you changed your mind and talked me into it and we settled on four. I lost one and then we split up and one of our little hookups ending up with me getting pregnant with Declan. He was supposed to be the last. That was it.. And low and behold…”

“I changed my mind and we had Addie.”

“And then Kota and Brookie. Even though we BOTH swore up and down that Peanut would be very last. You even went and got a vasectomy. Didn’t exactly work, did it.”

“That was totally my fault and I owned it.”

“We have our big family. Way bigger than either of us really ever planned on. And now you’re talking about more? This is when we’re supposed to start really enjoying each other. All of our kids are in school; we have the entire house to ourselves. We should be capitalizing on that. Going places together; out to lunch or taking those road trips we like we used to or even spending time on the beach. You can try to teach me to surf. AGAIN. Now that you’re home more…”

“That’s just it, Me. I’M home more. Not you. Me. I spend ninety nine percent of my time working from home. That’s what YOU wanted. You didn’t want me going out anymore; you wanted me home and running the business and not going out there and getting my hands dirty. I gave you what you wanted, didn’t I?”

She frowns. “I thought we both wanted that. We AGREED on it. You even said yourself that it was the best decision you could have made. Considering how long you had to rehab for and the little setbacks and the complications and having to get your knee redone. You admitted that you would never have been able to go back out. At least not at the frequency and the pace you were used to.”

“I did. I DID say that. And I meant it. I CAN’T keep going the way I was. I’m nowhere near the same guy I was thirteen years ago. Or even five years ago; before Nathan got his fucking hands on me. I CAN’T do it anymore; not full time anyway. My body can’t take it. Neither can my brain. And that’s the one I worry about the most.”

It’s a bitter pill to swallow: admitting aloud that you’re nowhere near the person you’d been not even a decade ago. That you just don’t have it in you anymore; physical and mental exhaustion finally getting the better of you. And he is better behind the scenes; he enjoys running things and being the one to delegate and the guy that others look to for answers and help. But it’s still a kick in the gut. Admitting that you just can’t do it anymore.

“But I thought being home almost all the time meant getting to spend more time with you,” he continues. “That’s what I thought would happen. I thought we WOULD get a chance to enjoy being around one another more. Because you know what? I genuinely like being around you. I WANT to be around you. I want us to go places together and do things with one another. And that’s not what happened, did it. When I agreed to this whole bookstore thing. When I bought you that place.”

It had been a tenth anniversary gift; the purchase of the building and the help of both a contractor and a designer to make her vision -her dream- come to life. And it’s flourished; the locals falling in love with Esme and the business and making it far more successful than she could have ever imagined it would be. And while he’s proud of her and the success that she’s achieved and would never stop supporting her, it has come with its downside. There’s been moments of animosity towards the business itself; never expecting that it would eat up so much time or her time and take her away from him. He'd certainly never expected to miss her THAT much; hating the loneliness of a completely empty house and the mere absence of her voice. And it isn’t so much the intimacy that he longs for. The sex and the moments of more innocent displays of affection; walking along the beach with their arms around each other, the kisses while standing in the surf, holding hands while walking through the town. It’s the friendship. The laughs they have together when he’s attempting -yet again- to teach her surf and the conversations over lunch on the back deck and the road trips they take; either making a picnic the night before or simply grabbing food at a drive thru and then just driving with no set destination. Listening to her singing along to the radio and laughing when she dances in her seat or even letting her talk him into a silly and childish game of ‘eye spy’. And that little shriek and giggle she gives when she sticks her arm out the window; the accompanying breeze both startling her and tickling her skin. He enjoys those moments with her. Not just his wife and the mother of his children, but his best friend. His confidant. His most loyal and steadfast supporter. The keeper of his deepest and darkest secrets.

“I just thought we’d have more time,” he adds. “Together. That me stepping back and being a boss meant that we would get a chance to be with another more. Especially when all the kids ended up in school.”

“And I agreed that I’d cut back. I’ve already adjusted the schedule and everyone has stepped up and are more than willing to take on extra hours. Xavier was more than willing to take on a management role; I gave him more hours, benefits, a business account he can use for meals and gas costs. I’ve already taken care of all of that. Just like you asked me. Like you wanted.”

“I wanted you to want it too. I wanted you to want that time with me.”

“And I DO want that time with you. Have you ever thought maybe I felt being home more somehow hindered you? That maybe I’d be a distraction? That you’d put off work in favor of catering to me? I didn’t want to get in your way, Tyler. I know how important the business is. How well it’s doing. And I didn’t want to feel like I was taking you away from it and making you neglect things.”

“Why didn’t you just TELL me that? Why didn’t you let me know you were feeling that way?”

She shrugs. “I didn’t want to come across as whiny and needy. You’re running a company. A very successful one. I didn’t want to hinder that.”

“Baby, you could never hinder it. Or be a distraction. Well, unless you’re coming into the gym in the middle of a work out and you’re only wearing a bathing suit or a bathrobe with nothing underneath. Then you are DEFINITELY a distraction.”

“I’ve been good lately. I’ve held off. If I’m horny and don’t want to handle things myself, I don’t come in until you’ve got at least an hour and a half in. Isn’t the last thirty minutes to an hour cardio? Well I show up, offer you sex, and then you don’t have to go on the treadmill or the rowing machine or use the assault bike.”

Grinning, he uses two fingertips to clear her hair away from her face , tucking wayward strands behind. “So THAT’S your game plan. You’re an evil genius, you know that?”

“I know how much you hate standard cardio. How the rowing machine makes your back act up and that running on the treadmill bothers your knees. So I figure why not offer myself up? Spare your body any future agony. And if we go really hardcore at it, it’s DEFINITELY better than any other form of cardio out there.”

“You think so do you? Did you read that somewhere? Google it?”

“I DID google. It was actually in a highly respected and esteemed publication, I’ll have you know.”

“Cosmopolitan is NOT a highly respected and esteemed publication. No matter what you think.”

“I don’t know, their sex advice is pretty damn good. I’ve used a few of those things. You never complained, that’s for sure.”

“Which tricks? What did you try on me?”

“I refuse to give away all my secrets. But you enjoyed them. Very much. And sometimes you even ask me to do them again. How long have you been feeling this way? Like I’m neglecting you? Neglecting US?”

“I didn’t say you were neglecting anything.” Combing his fingers through her hair, he cups the back of her head in his palm and places a kiss on her brow. “I just…”

“It’s neglect. Let’s not sugar coat it. I put my business before you. Before us. And I never meant to, Tyler. Other than our children, there is nothing or no one more important than our marriage and you. I just didn’t want to get in your way. Honest. That’s all it was about. I wasn’t staying away because I wanted to. Or because I didn’t want to spend time with you. It was never about that. It was never about you. And I’m sorry. That I made you feel you were being put second. I never meant to make you feel that way.”

“And I never meant to make you feel you were going to get in the way. I didn’t even realize I WAS making you that way. I guess we haven’t made as much progress as we thought. In the past five years.”

“Are you kidding? We are totally different people. Separately AND together. We’re stronger. Our marriage is better. We hardly fight anymore. And when we do it doesn’t get nearly as heated and ugly as it used to. We’re able to calm ourselves down and not let things get out of hand. We HAVE come a long way. And I see that every day. You must see it too.”

“I do. But we still got work to do. We’re still lacking a bit on the whole communication thing.”

“It is one of our weak spots,” she admits. “But we’ll just keep working at it. Reminding ourselves that we can and WILL do better. I don’t want us going back to how we were.”

“Trust me, that is the LAST thing I want. I like where we are now. And I like that we still keep working on things. I’m proud of us, Me. And you. I’m proud of you.”

Smiling, she lays a hand on the side of his face and kisses him; long and soft and sweet. “And you call me sappy. Is that why you got onto this wanting another baby stuff? Because me being pregnant meant I’d be home more?”

“I guess so. I don’t know. Maybe it’s part of it. But there’s more to it. The way I’m feeling. I don’t even know how to describe it. I just know what it feels like.”

“You want to try telling me? What’s going on with you? You know you don’t have to keep this shit from me, right? That you can tell me ANYTHING?”

“I do. I DO know that. But that’s the thing, Me. I want to tell you. I just don’t know how to. Because I can’t even make sense of it. So how are you supposed to?”

“Try me. Just talk. Don’t even think about it. Just say whatever pops into your head.”

“That could be dangerous you know. Aren’t we supposed to be working on me trying to get some of my filter back?”

“Baby, you wouldn’t be you if you had a filter. It’s been almost thirteen years. I’m used to you. Just say whatever you need to say. Nothing could possibly shock me. Or offend me.”

Sighing heavily, he closes his eyes and rests his forehead against hers; fingers buried in her hair and gently kneading at her scalp. She gives him time; patiently waiting for an often confused and muddled mind to not only put the bits and pieces together, but for him to find a way to adequately express them. It’s part of the brain injury; the minutes he’d spent deprived of oxygen when he’d coded twice in the operating room. It brings with it a wide variety of issues that can go radio silent for weeks, months, and sometimes even YEARS at a time; short term memory issues, problems controlling and expressing emotions, lack of impulse control, bouts of confusion and an increased temper and sexual drive. And she knows how frustrating it is for him; those times he struggles to concentrate on even the simplest of tasks and conversations or he forgets what he did half an hour before or can’t recall something she told him ten minutes before leaving the house. And when he takes in another sigh -longer and shakier than the one previous- she pushes her hand into his hair and presses a kiss to the bridge of his nose.

“It’s okay.” Her voice is calm, quiet, and patient. Nails lightly and briefly scratching at the back of his head before her hand moves to the nape of his neck. “Take your time. There’s no rush. I’m not going anywhere, babe.”

She can tell by the way his shoulders tense and his nostrils flare that he’s struggling; desperately trying to piece everything together and express exactly what he’s feeling. And her heart aches for him; this strong, powerful, BEAUTIFUL man continuing to be tortured by a troubled past. He’ll never be able to fully shed the memories of Dhaka; the brain injury and its side effects and the numerous scars permanent reminders of the hell he’d been through.

“You okay?” Her hand once more moves back into his hair, gently tugging at the longer strands. “You doing alright?”

Nodding, he clears his throat noisily and opens his eyes. “I love you. And my kids. So fucking much.”

“I know you do, Tyler. I never doubt that.”

“I need you to hear it. I need you to KNOW it. Because I don’t want you taking what I say next out of context. Because it’s probably not going to come out the way I want it to. The way I MEAN it to.”

“I know you love us. I’ve never once doubted that. Just say what you have to say. No getting upset, no judging you, no taking offence. I promise. Just tell me.”

“When I met you, I had nothing. Inside of me. I was empty. And you came along and you filled most of that up. Very quickly. And then we had Millie and we started having more kids and adding to our family and each time we did, more and more places inside of me started filling up. Am I making any sense? I hope this is making sense.”

“It is,” Esme assures him. “Total sense.”

“And it should be completely filled, yeah? That emptiness? You’d think between you and seven kids and the fact we have this incredible life and all this money and two beautiful homes that there’d be nothing left to fill. But there is. And I don’t know why. I don’t know why I can’t fill that last piece. There’s this hole. In my heart. And I can’t find the piece that fits it. No matter how hard I try.”

“So you thought another baby would fill it? Be the answer?”

“A baby of our own, adopting, going back into the field. I guess I thought one of those three would be the answer. That one of them would do the trick.”

“You realize NONE are the answer, right? That none of those things are what you’re really looking for?”

“That’s just it, Me. I don’t know what I’m looking for. But whatever it is, it’s out there but I can’t find it. And I’m not saying this to hurt you or make you feel like you failed in some way. Because you haven’t. It’s not about you. Or our kids. Because I love you; with everything I am and everything I have. None of this is about you.”

“I know. I’m not upset or hurt. I know you love me. You show me and tell me all the time. When did this start? Feeling like this?”

“Couple months ago, I guess. Four at the most.”

“Right around the anniversary of Austin’s death?”

“Yeah...maybe...I don’t know…” The mere mention of his son causes tears to fill his eyes and a lump of emotion to settle in his throat. “...I guess that could have done it.”

“Baby, it’s okay to grieve. It’s okay to still be heartbroken.”

“It’s been seventeen years.”

“There’s no time limit on these things. I still miss my dad. A hell of a lot. Every day something happens where I’m reminded of him. One of the kids will do something and I’ll think about how I wish I could just call him and tell him about it. Or send him pictures of them. Or videos of Millie doing her MMA stuff or TJ scoring goals in lacrosse or Addie at dance recitals in her cute little outfits. It hurts like hell when I realize I can’t share those things with him. When I think about everything he’s missed and how much he’d love those kids. And you. I don’t think it ever really goes away. Grief. I think it’s always there in some way.”

“I just didn’t think it would be this hard. Hurt this much. Especially after so long.”

“You lost a child. A human being that you helped make,” she reasons. “I can’t even bear it when I just think about losing one of mine. So I can’t even begin to imagine what it feels like when it actually HAPPENS. To have to sit there and see your child suffer.”

“But I didn’t sit there,” he reminds her, voice cracking with emotion. “ I took off. I left him there. That was my son. And I LEFT him.”

“You were scared. You were young and you were…”

“I was thirty one years old. I wasn’t a kid. I was a grown ass man. I wasn’t some fucking kid right out of high school. And I wasn’t scared. I was weak. I was a fucking coward and I left him. When he needed me the most. He was sick and he was terrified and I left him.”

“Tyler…” She cradles his face in her hands, thumbs clearing away the tears that slip down his cheeks. “...it’s okay. It’s okay to talk about it and it’s okay to feel the things you’re feeling. But beating yourself up like this? Hating yourself? This isn’t good, babe. You can’t hate yourself forever.”

“You think so? You just watch me.”

“Listen to me,” she pleads, and digs her nails into his face. “You can’t do this. You can’t spend the rest of your life hating yourself. You made a mistake. And yeah, it was a really bad one and I am so fucking sorry that happened to you. That Austin got sick and suffered like he did and that you felt you had no choice but to leave.”

“How can you not hate me? How can you look at me like you do? Why don’t you see me like a monster? Like the huge piece of shit that I am?”

“Because you’re not a piece of shit and you’re not a monster. You’re just a human being that made a bad mistake. I could NEVER hate you. I love you. More than I ever thought I could love someone. And if there was some way I could go back in time and change things and make them better for you, I would.”

“No. Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that. Don’t ever even wish that. Because going back and changing everything would just change everything now. It would mean I’d lose you. And my kids. I loved my son. But I would never bring him back if it meant losing everything I have now.”

She kisses him softly; tasting the salt of his tears as her fingernails lightly drag along the lines of his jaw. “You need closure, Tae. It’s something you’ve never gotten. If you knew where he was…”

“She’d never tell me. Not even seventeen years later. She wouldn’t even tell my lawyer. When we got divorced.”

“Have you tried tracking her down? It’s been a long time. Last time we saw her was thirteen years ago. She may have mellowed. She might be willing to tell you now.”

“I’m not exactly her favourite person, Me. And do you blame her? I didn’t just leave him, I left her too. When she needed me. I know she was a shit wife; constantly fucking other guys when I was away. Sometimes when I was even still in town. But she didn’t deserve that.”

“Do you want me to track her down? I could call or go and visit and ask if she’d…”

“No. That is the last thing I want. I don’t want my past mixing with my present. My future. I appreciate it, Me. And I love you for wanting to do that. For being WILLING to do it. But no good will come of that. You and her meeting up.”

“Is there anything I CAN do? Because I hate that you’re going through this. And I especially hate that you hate yourself. That I can’t take that away. Because you don’t deserve that. That hate. From yourself or anyone else. Tell me what I can do. Please.”

Sniffling noisily, he swipes the back of his hand across his nose. “You can’t fix me, Esme. No matter how much you want to. Or how hard you try.”

“I don’t want to fix you, Tae. I just want to love you.”

The tears immediately return, and when he chokes back a sob she gathers him in her embrace and rolls onto her back. An arm across the middle of his spine and hand moving to the back of his head; fingers tunnelling in his hair as he rests his brow against her chest.

“I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve YOU.”

“You deserve EVERYTHING. And you’ll never convince me otherwise. Let me love you. That’s all I want. To love you. Can you let me do that?”

Nodding, he slides further down the bed; both arms circling her torso as he buries his face in her stomach.

“It’s going to be okay, Tyler.” Both hands push through his hair; tightly gripping the dirty blond tresses, nails digging into his scalp. “I’ve got you.”

[holy-mountaineering]

I find your content(?) kind of alienating. I don't know if it's just because I'm way less knowledgeable about this stuff than you obviously are, but you seem to be so judgemental of others' practices... "high and mighty" almost. It makes it so hard to relate to the things you talk about or view you as any sort of figure to learn (or glean information) from.

Hahahahahahaha, okay, well, I assure you I am not. As far as what other people practice, I could care way less than you seem to think. 

I do however take serious issue with people who act like authorities on subjects that they hardly know about, I actually really dislike folks with the attributes you seem to have given to me for whatever reasons you might have. I try to present the information I have in a way that is funny, if not a bit snarky, but overall I try to be understanding of other folk’s levels of understanding. I am a bit older than a lot, if not most people on here and have spent a good deal of my life learning and living what I’m into, but I try to be aware that most people are not where I am with things. Now, understanding folks are in different places is different than allowing blatant liars, frauds and hacks to spread misinformation or misrepresent their levels of attainment. If you’d dedicated your life to something, spent countless hours and resources getting to where you are, you too might be miffed when someone who watched a few YouTube videos tried to present themselves as some kind of Guru© who Knows all™ and actively talks shit on those who have done the Work because they are just as knowledgeable because they have some Grift *COUGH* I mean Gift® that means they don’t have to do the Work that everyone actually does.

Now, I am curious, how did you come to that pretty judgemental conclusion about who I am and how I feel? I mean, it seems like you’re new here and just jumped to these conclusions based on a handful of posts that were meant to be funny, but I would like to know why you feel that way.

[universallywriting]

Drive Home

Steven's breath puffed in the air as he came to sit beside her, feet crunching in the frost and pine needles. He was glad they'd planned it the way they did, just cold enough so the Rocky Mountains were dusted with snow. Specks of brown and green covered the mounds that swallowed up the horizon, towering and beautiful, almost touchably close and endlessly far at the same time. Pine trees circled close around them, boulders jutting up from the earth, and he came to sit down on one beside Connie with a smile.

It was odd up in the mountains. Occasionally hikers would pass them by, or a family of tourists, but off the more well-worn trails that was rare. It was still odd for Steven, who so rarely traveled, to see so many people pass him by that he didn’t know the names of. So often he felt like he should see Buck’s familiar deadpan face, or hear Jenny’s laugh from one of the people that passed him by.

But the only familiar face was Connie’s. The thermos of tea he had brought her was hot in the metal flask. When they drove lower, he would switch back to her favorite black teas, carefully measured with swirls of honey and just the right kind of milk to make her smile. But high up in the mountains, the water didn’t boil hot enough.

Just thinking of her face the first morning she’d tried to make them both tea at 10,000 feet was enough to make him smile. The weak brew had made her nose wrinkle up in confusion, baffled at her perfectly measured cup failing, before she burst into giggles and explained the correlation between how water boiled and the altitude.

She was so brilliant. He handed it to her, enjoying the feel of being stupidly in love and out in the world alone with her before murmuring, “How do you feel?”

"Small. But in a good way. You?" She took a deep breath of mountain air, looking over the landscape. He wondered if she felt the same as him, or if we-moved-a-lot Connie never felt that same warm loneliness.

"Same." He smiled and looked back out. Questions about wanting to see familiar faces could be saved for the road home when they were barefoot and bored. “Wish I had come to places like this more often. Oceans are beautiful but... Nothing makes you feel more like a speck than a mountain. It's comforting."

"Just another little person, running across a big marble." She nudged him softly with her free hand. "Gets a little too much when you really see the marble though. I think going out in space can make Earth feel a little too small."

Steven nodded. "Yeah. This is a good middle ground. Earth feels big. I feel small. I like it this way.”

“Why don’t we stay?” Connie asked lightly. “Drive around forever.”

“I could be happy getting lost in these woods,” he agreed, but there was no weight to it. There was no weight to her words either. They swept away in the breeze, tumbling down stone and needles and babbling brooks to the world beneath.

"Me too." Her fingers wrapped tight around the sketchbook in her lap, the cover digging into her skin just at the brink of hurting. "I'm, um... I'm done with it, by the way. With my portfolio. I’ll submit it in the morning."

"That's great!" Steven said, throwing his arm around her shoulders with an eager squeeze. His lips found her temple in a reassuring kiss, seeing the nerves in the stiff lines of her body. "I'm so proud of you. Did the landscapes turn out the way you wanted?"

She opened her sketchbook and Steven eagerly looked over her shoulder, never tiring of the contents. It started with the temple. The morning they left Steven had found her on the beach, wrapped up in a hoodie in the early dawn chill, sketching his home and occasionally sipping at a coffee that had gone cold, and though she had insisted it wasn’t important, he had happily delayed their start until she finished.

Connie flipped to fields of grain. Traveling the midwest had been much less exciting than he expected. Keystone had rolled by and their eyes had glazed over as everything seemed to be the same three trees and two rocks. They had burst into Buckeye and passed through Kansas and had mumbled incoherently about corn while the radio tried to keep them alive and driving. That night they had stared at Connie’s grain drawing with a ghostly horror, neither of them remembering when she had drawn the stuff.

She moved past a drawing of rolling grassy hills. In Nebraska, he had floated to the top of the RV with her. While she drew, he had read about the Great Plains on his phone. They had taken a moment, in warm breeze and isolation, to let tears hit their eyes and cries choke their lungs as they read about what happened to buffalo who had roamed there once. They had whispered about colonies of all kinds, and there was no one around to reassure them, so they took the time to mourn things that might have been.

They had done the same in sand dunes, or close to it. The sketch she passed held more memory than a picture, the grays of her pencil capturing more than just the desert, but him breaking down over Kindergartens sucking life from the earth. Another sketch just after, with a lovely pink flower blossoming on top of a cactus, and he could hear her voice reassuring, “Nothing’s as lifeless as you’d think.”

Connie paused on his favorite, the polar bear she had sketched from the San Diego Zoo. They had spent such a long day there, but when they got to the polar bears she had stopped and gushed about them. The Spirit Morph saga had inspired her to do research, and she rambled facts. Polar bears had terrible success rates, with only two percent of their hunts being successful, did he know? 

He really liked that idea. The largest bear of all, living in such a harsh environment, failed almost all the time. It fumbled and watched as victory slipped away, but it came back to try another day. It survived.

She finished on a sweeping mountain landscape, not too different from the one they sat in now. Connie set her phone next to it, a copy of her finished project next to the rougher draft. "That's the last one," she said quietly, pointing to the screen. "I think it turned out okay."

"It makes Earth look beautiful. I’d put it in a gem brochure," he reassured. “You chose a lot of amazing stuff.”

She bit her lower lip. “I hope so. I tried to choose what a school would think is best, not just the stuff I think is great. The stuff that shows skill, you know?

He kissed her cheek this time, saying, "Any school is going to be lucky to have you. You're amazing, Connie."

"I'm okay," she said, voice very practical about her own skills. Connie looked at him with a little laugh. "I don't know what's scarier - getting rejected or getting in. Mom was mad enough about the world US road trip gap year."

"She got over it! You know, after the meltdown." Steven said, wincing a little at the memory. He had sat behind her, trying to support her as quietly as possible while Priyanka and Connie growled and snapped at one another, each insisting on how the next year should be spent. And, at the end, the tearful apologies, the confessions of fear over the future… He had to admit that it was a relatable feeling, even if no one had fought with him.

"She'll get over this too. Come on. This is what you've always wanted. You're going to be an animator, Connie,” he said, and just saying the word made her eyes go a little wide with hope. 

He remembered her earliest drawings with him, rougher but already so much nicer than his own. He remembered her working through how to draw anime books, silly cat-eared characters with huge eyes. Steven remembered her fumbling beyond that, hours of Tubetube tutorials, crying at the tablet he got her for her birthday, the countless gifts of fanart for his favorite shows. He remembered trembling hands the first time she showed him a comic, with characters he had never seen, because she had snatched them from the air the way he grabbed music.

Steven knew he was tearing up again like he did every time he told her, but he could never hold it back. “It’s what you live for, Connie. It’s what makes you happy. You're going to tell stories."

Connie breathed again, taking in pine and chill and rocks older than even the Crystal Gems by orders of magnitude. The world was big and wide and old, the universe even more so, and usually that made her problems feel small. But nothing could swallow up the fear and doubt today. She took his hand tight in her own.

"This has been amazing. Driving across the country, seeing all these different parts of the world, pitstops to warps so we can see everything Earth has to offer. Steven, I..."  She looked up at him, shaking her head in disbelief. "These past ten months have been the best months of my life. Everyone said we were going to get sick of each other. Your dad gave us that speech about how it was okay to bail. Everyone thought we were going to mess this up but... I'd do this for another year if it wasn't for college."

He was careful not to jostle her phone or sketchbook from her lap as he lifted her hand and pressed it to his lips. "I loved this. I love you. No expectations. No scary future. No responsibilities. Just a big journey together.”

“I’m glad you loved it as much as I did,” she said with a smile.

“More than that. I needed it.” He laughed and shook his head. “Connie, I never could have asked for anything better than this. Everything at home was a mess. I’m so tired of all the work and responsibility and wondering what I’m going to do with my life. But this past year I just got to be with you and not be afraid."

"But now we have to go home," she whispered looking at the RV parked behind them. The place where they slept and ate. The place where they made stupid jokes and listened to terrible radio and podcasts. The place where they’d cried and kissed and worked through things they never thought they’d work through. But that was over now, and it loomed like a hearse. “We have to get in there and drive all the way back to Beach City. And then I... I have to wait to see if I get accepted.”

She laughed, cold and bitter, and took a hand to wipe at her eyes. He couldn’t see any tears falling, but Connie felt them stinging. “I’ve messed up on a lot of stuff, Steven. I know I seem smart, but most of it is from studying so hard. I’m not… special. I’m not talented. The odds are good they’re not gonna want me. And if they don't, I guess I'll go be a doctor or something. And, if they do, I..."

I’m screwed either way.

Steven shook his head hard. "You'll be an animator," he insisted. He took the thermos and set it aside, untouched, just so he could take both her hands in his. "You'll do exactly what you've been doing ever since I met you - telling stories. You'll finally get to be who you've always wanted to be."

She winced. "But my mom-"

"Who cares?" Steven said, barely holding back his temper. "We spent a year, just the two of us! You don’t need her to agree."

"Ten months," she corrected softly. "But, you're right. We did."

Steven didn’t like his temper. He didn’t like how angry he got. He didn’t like how easily he could drag Connie into it, drown her in it when they fused. He felt guilty about that. He worried about that a lot, that maybe his anger meant he wasn’t as good of a person as he liked to try to be. He loved Dr. and Mr. Maheswaran, didn’t he? His anger shouldn’t be so burning and flaring when all they wanted was for Connie to be safe.

But his feelings for her parents got tangled in his own, and when he started down that path he felt that little voice hissing that they should leave them alone, and that they could do things on their own, and for once they wanted to live their own lives and forge their own paths, and was it really so much to ask for unconditional support in that?

Steven took a steady breath to calm himself. "She should be in your life. The gems should be in my life. But nobody... Nobody gets to tell you what to do with it. It took me so long to figure that out. I didn't get that making other people happy and hurting yourself to meet their expectations aren't the same thing. I spent my whole life trying to be my mom. I didn't know what to do when I wasn't."

Connie nodded weakly. "I know."

He took her face in his hands, pressing her forehead to hers. "You're not your mom. You never have been. You don’t love rules and coloring inside the lines. You sneak candy into movies and find loopholes in the law and climb giant robots and... And you love books. And comics. And television. You love survival." 

Steven flipped back to the polar bear, gently tapping the page. "You drew this because of the warrior bears in the Spirit Morph Saga, because those books meant everything to you, and you want to make something like that for other people. That’s who you are. You want to inspire people like people who have inspired you."

She closed her eyes, trying not to cry. “I know. But I’m… I don’t know if I…”

“I’ve seen you capture Pearl on a page, and I can see all her determination and all her fear at the same time,” he whispered. “I’ve seen you draw your dad as a superhero, with a goofy flashlight and a big smile, because that’s who he was when you were small. You… You drew me, Connie.”

His thumbs smoothed over her cheeks as he took a shuddering breath. “You drew me the way you love me. It was just me, sleepy in our RV, and I looked peaceful and happy and I was looking outside and… and I could feel the way I love our stupid little rock. I was human and not human and I loved it, Connie. You made me feel so much.”

“I know, Steven. I know you feel the things I make but…” She whimpered, the tears he hadn’t seen before finally rolling. “What if I'm not good enough? What if I reach for Kansas and burn out halfway there?"

Steven hugged her tight, and let her bury her face in his shoulder. They were all alone up there, softly rustling trees holing them up from the terrifying landscape ahead. But there were such beautiful things below, pressed into the pages of Connie’s sketchbook, and it was time to face them all.

“I’ll pick you up.” His face buried in her hair, thoughts of their families fresh in his mind, and there was only one thing to promise, "I'll drive you home. And we'll all love you anyway."

[amydancepants-peralta]

i love your precious heart

(chapter seven of we’re the fortunate ones) ♥️

season seven: i love your precious heart

For the longest time, there was a part of Jake Peralta that genuinely didn’t believe he was deserving of any special kind of love or affection.  Years of rejection; from the revolving doors made up of fathers, step-fathers and short-lived relationships, had led to the once quiet inner voices growing louder - reminding him every chance they could that any state of legitimate happiness simply was not meant for him.

(Dr. Marcia, the therapist he’s been seeing once a fortnight for a close to a year now, has helped him to understand this.)

This New Year’s Eve, standing here on the fire escape that runs along the outside of the apartment he shares with his wife, is not one of those moments.

Their plans for the evening had skewed slightly from their original schedule, partially because Jake had heard the sighs of dejection Amy made when she’d returned yet another ill-fitting dress back into their wardrobe.  Her body is changing in a lot of ways this year - some of them rapidly, others sneaking up on her so slowly it drove her insane - and when he remembered that Amy hadn’t really had the chance to go shopping for a decent range of maternity clothes yet, Jake had moved quickly to devise an alternative plan that seemed both spontaneous and not-at-all-related to a lack of party outfit options.  

Pouring them each a glass of sparkling apple cider (if Amy can’t drink, then Jake can’t drink - and he’s not interested in hearing arguments that suggest otherwise), he had googled events that were happening nearby, found one with fireworks, and with his brilliant detective skills had deduced that their fire escape will face exactly the right direction to watch the show without ever having to leave their house.  And maybe Amy had already been hoping that he would come to the same conclusion, or maybe she was just a really big fan of fire escape parties (he suspects, though, that it is the former) but either way, her dress had been swapped for sweatpants within minutes of Jake’s suggestion, and the relaxation on her face simply made her all the more beautiful.

They’d spent the entire evening rotating between the living room and the tiny space outside that Jake had stocked up with blankets and snacks, talking and laughing as they reminisced the year that was.  There had even been a sweet little slow dance, to a song playing on Jake’s phone as it stayed nestled in his pocket - and it would have been totally romantic, if it hadn’t been interrupted by some dude yarfing onto the street below.   Still, the feeling of holding his wife in his arms, while their baby stayed nestled in-between them, was something that Jake will hold onto forever.  

The breeze has grown colder now, the wind rustling through Jake’s hair as he waits for Amy to return from her seventeenth trip to the bathroom (sadly, not an exaggeration), and as he reaches into the storage box for another blanket for his wife, Jake finds himself looking back on the last few months with a smile.  Even now, there’s a tiny piece of his mind that is still incredulous that she is pregnant - that the two of them are having a baby.  In just four short months, there will be a tiny human that is part Amy, part Jake and wholly them, and he’s never ever been more excited for the future.  

He can still recall the moment it had all changed for the better - when Amy had turned to him with the brightest smile he had ever seen, and nodded her head.  He’d sat beside her on the floor of their bathroom for longer than he’d realised, staring at the plastic stick with it’s stamped lettering and two thin red lines that told him that Amy was pregnant.  His eyes had kept darting from left to right, his brain frantically trying to reassure himself that he was, in fact, reading it all correctly.  That the love of his life was carrying his child, and the world as he knew it was never going to be the same again.  It just … hadn’t made any sense, how easily it had all changed.  Every part of his life involved filling out some sort of paperwork or prior approval or whatever - it was a reality that he merely tolerated, but Amy adored.  But, in the blink of an eye (and a round of admittedly great sex), Jake Peralta was going to be a father.    

Deciding to start trying had been one of the most uncomplicated decisions of his life, and one that he hasn’t reconsidered for a second (it had surprised him at first, how easily it came to him - but that’s the thing about finally being in a secure relationship.  Even the things that terrified him the most, suddenly didn’t seem so bad when he knew Amy would be by his side).  But it had stunned him, how in just one moment, seeing the word pregnant on a little piece of plastic had made him fall in love with something (or someone, really) that he hadn’t even met.  

He had known, in approximately 0.0003 seconds after seeing their daughter for the very first time on the ultrasound screen, that he wouldn’t ever do anything that could hurt her.  That he will fight for her safety and security, with every fibre of his being, until the very last day of his life.  This tiny little shadow on the screen, with it’s echoing heartbeat and what thankfully looked to be Amy’s nose, was now the single-most greatest thing that Jake had ever done: and nothing was ever going to change that.  These past few months have made Jake understand his father even less, and appreciate Amy all the more, if for nothing else than the fact that she’d given Jake a second chance to show just how capable - and deserving - of love he can be.  

Hearing a soft grunt to his left, Jake turns his head in time to see Amy wriggling through the window frame, the swell of her belly turning what used to be an easy move into something that requires a little more finesse.  There’s a soft metallic thud that reverberates towards the empty streets below as both of her slipper covered feet hit the gridded surface, and she grins in triumph before making her way over to Jake.  

“Starting to get over this whole ‘needing to pee every half hour’ thing that I’ve got going on.”

Grinning, Jake leans against the balustrade of their makeshift balcony, ignoring the gentle dig of the metal against his skin.  “I mean, you know my feelings about water, hun.”

Raising an eyebrow, Amy shakes her head in response.  “Hate to tell you this, but all I’ve been drinking today is orange soda - and we both know that’s your genes at play here, Peralta.”  Amy winks at Jake’s responsive wince, cupping his chin in her hand as she pulls him closer for a quick kiss.  “It’s a good thing that I love you, huh?”

“Oh, it’s a very good thing, Ames.”  The best thing ever, actually, that she loves him.  She tells him a lot - even more so since falling pregnant, a side effect that has been hated by absolutely no-one - and every time feels better than the last.  

A car passes them below, the loud music pumping from the speakers and filtering it’s way up to the two of them, and Amy looks down at her sweats, turning to give Jake an apprehensive look.  “What a wild New Year’s Eve we’ve ended up having.  Maybe we should have gone to Terry’s party after all?  I mean, it is the last child free one we’re going to have for a long time.”

Slinging an arm around Amy’s shoulders, Jake pulls her closer to him, smiling as her hand wraps around his waist in a move that is absolutely second nature.  “No way, Ames.  I’ve got my two best girls here with me, and in five minutes I’m going to have the greatest seats in New York as that building over there lets off fireworks from their roof.  Terry’s party can suck it.”  

Right now, a bunch of fugitives could climb out from the sewer clutching diamonds from the biggest jeweller in town, and he wouldn’t move.  Bruce Willis himself could knock on the door, and Jake would tell him that he needed to come back tomorrow (please, please, please - come back tomorrow).  

This was his home - he’d built a world between these four walls, with the love of his life - the only one to run a hand over his scars, both physical and mental, and still call him beautiful.  His partner, in every way imaginable, and easily the greatest person he’s ever known.  And just when he didn’t think she could be any more magic, she’d begun carrying their child, and now he is absolutely certain that Amy is completely made of stardust.  

Even when her hormones are out of control, and she’s yelling at him for not mixing enough pickles into her ice cream.

There was nowhere he’d rather be, and nobody he’d rather be with.  Literally everything he needed, for the rest of his life, was right here in his arms.  

(Okay yes, technically he would eventually need orange soda and gummy worms and maybe some water if Amy insisted.  But there was a healthy stock of all that in their kitchen, and by ‘right here’ he obviously means their apartment.)

Amy hums - this sweet little hmmming sound that Jake knows to mean contentment ever since he heard it on their first night together, a sound that he’s heard a million times since then and just never, ever fails to transcend him - and she leans a little more of her body weight against him, blinking slowly as fatigue begins to set in.  There were countless books and testimonials that told them to get as much sleep as they could, because once the baby came sleep would become a long-lost memory, and Jake could tell that Amy was secretly dying to curl up into bed.  Baby-growing, it would seem, was a highly exhaustive task - and in all honesty the idea of curling up underneath the blanket with her for the rest of the evening sounded kind of amazing.   

Jake’s just about to suggest a retreat to their bedroom when he hears the first whoosh of a firework streaking through the sky, the subsequent explosion of light piercing his eyes as tiny blue stars litter their previously dark canvas.  Either the revellers had decided to celebrate early, or his watch was slow (entirely possible, he’d bought it for three whole dollars at their local bodega) - whatever the reason, Jake cannot help the smile that stretches across his face as more colours begin to light the sky.  

Now completely awake, Amy moves closer still to Jake, standing in front of him and gripping his forearms in her hands when they wrap around her clavicle.  From behind Jake can hear her tiny gasps as each bang and pop takes place, and after a minute he cries out in surprise, moving quickly to place his hands on either side of Amy’s pregnant belly in a protective stance.

Shifting her head to the side, Amy looks at Jake in confusion, pointing downwards.  “What’s with the sudden coverage, babe?”

Eyes wide and earnest, Jake nods in the direction of his hands, explaining - “I’ve got to protect the baby’s ears, Ames!  These fireworks are loud - and what if she’s asleep right now?  She’s part Peralta, and you and I both know Peraltas are NOT a fan of being woken up.”

Amy laughs, her nose crinkling up in that completely adorable way that Jake absolutely loves, shaking her head as her fingers link with his on either side of her bump.  “Our baby is totally fine in there, Jake.  But I love you so much for thinking of her right now.”  There’s a slight shift underneath Jake’s hands, and he can’t be sure if it’s a kick of just a general nudge from their daughter, but either way he takes it as a sign that their little one agrees with Amy’s statement.  Nodding; he smiles at Amy, suddenly feeling a little foolish - but perhaps, he’s just foolishly in love.  Above them, the fireworks continue to explode, only now they don’t seem so loud.

Moving one hand away from his, Amy cups the back of Jake’s neck, gently pulling him downwards for a soft kiss.  “Only five months in, and you’re already the greatest dad ever,” she whispers against his lips, pressing against them with her own once more.  He’s blushing by the time she pulls away, he can feel it in the sudden tingle of his cheeks, but all he can think about is the title greatest dad ever, and how much he can’t wait until those very words are emblazoned on a mug or some other kind of gift their child decides to buy him.  He wants it on hats, and shirts, on socks and a keyring and everywhere in between - because when it came to Jake and fatherhood, there was not a chance in hell that history was going to end up repeating.        

“Hey,” came Amy’s soft voice, pulling Jake out of his thoughts as her fingers return to the back of his neck and toy with the curls that live along the bottom of his hairline.  Briefly, he remembers that he meant to get his hair cut two weeks ago.  “You okay, babe?”

Taking a deep breath, Jake smiles and nods, waiting until Amy has turned to face him completely before tucking a stray strand of hair back behind her ear.  “Happy New Year, Ames.  I know I’ve said this before, but this year is going to be totally amazing.”

Amy nods back, giggling as Jake swoops in for a kiss.  “I’m going to remember this moment when we’re elbow deep in dirty diapers and our eyelids are being held up by toothpicks.”

Joining in on Amy’s laughter, Jake shrugs his shoulders in defeat.  “This is probably going to sound insane, and I’m definitely going to deny I ever said this when we’re in that situation; but even that sounds a little bit awesome, because it’ll mean that she’s here and we can hold her and talk to her and just love her for reals.”

“Totally insane, and I completely agree.”

It’s less than an hour later that both Jake and Amy are tucked into bed, the sound of Amy’s gentle snores lulling Jake to sleep as 2020 begins to stretch her limbs.  Their apartment is quiet, but filled to the brim with love - right down to the printed sonogram, sharing the space of a heart-shaped magnet with a photo of a young couple falling for each other - and there is a small room adjacent to the kitchen that is almost ready for it’s tiny occupant to arrive.  

As his eyelids grow heavy, Jake thinks back to all the years he and Amy had spent together, and how many times they’ve had to push back against all the things that have tried to keep them apart.  He knows now that it was worth it - all of it was worth it - because truly, the best was yet to come.  

[jimlingss]

Jungle Park [20]

Chapter 19 - Chapter 20 - Chapter 20.5 OR Chapter 21

➜ Words: 6.3k

➜ Genres: Fluff, Light Humour (?), Slice of Life, Workplace Romance!AU

➜ Summary: The equation is simple. Hoseok needs to hire someone. You need a job. Except like any actual equation, it’s not fucking simple at all! Not when you have to add the fact that he was forced to hire someone he doesn’t want in his office, he has little respect for your job in general, and oh yeah...once upon a time you might have—*CENSORED*.

The first date consists of a warm meal in the comfort of your own home. It’s simple, but cozy. The second is spent chatting at a quaint breakfast diner, or rather arguing about what movies currently in the box office are worthwhile and those that are atrocious. This leads to the third outing at the theater where you both watch three movies back-to-back and get a headache afterwards, storylines in your head morphing together so you can’t distinguish which is which.   There are countless more dates after that, from being dragged to the gym and being forced to workout to heading to a karaoke bar and re-discovering his superior singing skills to deciding to recklessly buy all ice-cream flavours from one brand for the sake of ranking them all.   The first time he stays over is when you watch a comedy movie in your living room...that turns out to be a horror — by then, it’s too beyond the point of return and he stays over for both your sakes.   And the first time he kisses you…   “You have chocolate on your mouth.”   “Where?”   “Right there.”   “Is it gone?”   “No. It’s still right there.” Hoseok’s hand lifts, swiping at the corner of your lip and he licks the trace of chocolate off his thumb. A grin pulls into his cheeks, eyes gazing into your features like he adores you — it’s still strange. You’re not sure if you’ll ever get used to his affections like before. “There’s still some there.”   “Really? What the...” Your brows furrow, wondering what kind of chocolate was on these chocolate covered strawberries and how it’s possible that it can be so stubborn. But a thought flickers into your mind and you steal the opportunity that is presented.   Your arms raise until your hands are pressed on his cheeks, mouth puckering. You stand on your tiptoes, planting one chaste and quick smack to his lips. In the next second you’ve pulled away with a cheeky smile. “Is it gone now?”   Jung Hoseok blinks hard and the corner of his mouth curls. “Nope, it’s still there. You’re going to have to kiss me harder.”   The first time he kisses you is actually when you kiss him.   The first time he hugs you — the first time he holds your hand — the first time he stays over — the first time you kiss him. You always thought it would be painful to relive these, to experience all these firsts again, even when they’re not the first for you. But it never occurred to you that experiencing all these moments over again wasn’t going to be painful at all. To relieve one of the best periods of your life again, to try one more time, it feels like watching your favourite movie or reading your book after having left them in dusted corners for so long. It’s seeing the most beautiful places with fresh eyes again, visiting those special moments once more, loving the same person twice.   You’re lucky.   It’s not his memories that are lost. It’s a future with him that’s being found.   //   “Hold the door!” Someone calls out and you push the button, keeping the elevator doors parted.   Hoseok appears, slipping in with a nod. He steps beside you, keeping a good distance between both your bodies as it shuts. “Good morning.”   “Morning.” He sips on his coffee, looking straight ahead and carrying his briefcase in his other hand. “You wanted to talk to me about vacation times?”   “Yes. There are some concerns amongst the employees.” You keep your eyes trained on the numbers, watching them increase as you move past the floors.   “You can come by my office any time after one then. I have another meeting before then.”   “Sounds good.” The doors part with a ding, and you both walk your separate ways. But temptation is far too great and you end up glancing over your shoulder with a small smile, watching the lawyer enter his office.   The pair of you agreed to keep your workplace romance discrete — it’s important to both you and Hoseok to remain professional and focused on your jobs during working hours. The two of you loved your jobs and didn’t want any of that to change. And for the most part things are normal.   You’re more than content with it.   “Y/N?” Sunyi pops her head through your doorway. “You have a second?”   “Always.” You set aside your work with a smile and she doesn’t hesitate to step in, plopping down in the familiar seat across from yours. “What’s up?”   “Oh nothing, just Yoongi again.”   “What did he do this time?”   When lunchtime rolls around, it’s Taehyung who’s visiting you.   “A bunch of us are going out to lunch.” He wiggles his brows up and down with a mischievous grin. “Jin lost a bet, so he’s paying. Wanna come?”   “Sure. Where to?”   “This expensive place I know.” Taehyung skips away and you can practically feel Jin’s agony radiating off his body.   It’s ordinary days like this that you cherish the most. As mundane as it is, the normalcy that lacks pandemonium offers a sense of peace of mind and you wouldn’t want it any other way.   You get back in time, enough to approach causally with papers in hand and knock on his office door. Through the bottom crack, you can hear shuffling until it goes quiet again. “Come in.”   “Hey.” You step into his office, shutting the door behind you.   Hoseok automatically smiles, mouth curling upwards and his eyes crinkled ever so slightly. “You’re not wasting time, right? If you take too many extended lunches with the others, I’ll have to write you up, especially for encouraging them too.”   “It was a business-related lunch.” You sit down with a slight pout. His brows raise and you laugh, giving in. “Business between Taehyung and Jin. I just happen to be there to observe and make sure no conflict breaks out that could be detrimental to office morale. Just doing my job.”   The lawyer scoffs, amazed at how well you twist words. “You’re going to get all my employees to revolt and run me out of business one of these days.”   “I’m sure Jimin wouldn’t mind.” You offer a cheeky smile. “It’ll give him the chance to break into the jungle gym business.”   Hoseok’s serious persona completely shatters, losing all composure, and he laughs. “Oh god. Don’t remind me. The kid knows nothing about playground equipment and neither do I. Might as well declare bankruptcy now. Anyways, what do you have for me?”   You slide over what’s in your hand except for one sheet. “It’s a new proposal for vacation days. I think the receptionists deserve three more days in the upcoming year….”   He hums, considering the plans. For a while, it’s just business talk and discussions related to the office since you’ve both split the job of office manager together, a natural progression that happened without any change of official titles. But you fiddle with the single page in your lap, glancing at it, mind preoccupied. You clear your throat when you get the chance and slide it over to him.   “Since I’m here...you should sign this too.”   “What is it?” Hoseok grins, taking it.   “It’s just for filing purposes.” You look away, suddenly made shy. It feels official to be documenting it — to have a ‘love contract’. Really, it’s nothing special. It’s to limit his liability as an employer and show that it’s a consensual dating relationship. There’s also a section on proper workplace behaviour expected of both parties as well as guaranteeing Hoseok will treat everyone fairly regardless of your personal relationship with him. “I’m part of HR and all and office romances are kind of part of my job...we’re actually the first ever, so that’s sort of exciting. First time I got to write guidelines for employees dating....”   Hoseok's cheeks ache with his ginormous smile. He doesn’t say anything, only grabbing his favourite ink pen from his cup and happily singing his full name. He takes his time, drawing every swirl dramatically, looping the letters, relishing in the moment. It’s probably the best thing he’s signed in the past ten years of his life. “Are you going to frame this?”   “No. It’s just a form.”   “I feel like I need to frame this.” He holds it out in front of him, leaning back in his chair, admiring how both your names are side by side on the paper, acting as if this was a magnificent painting. After a long moment, he gives it back to you. “I’m going to need a copy of this on my desk before five o’clock today,” he commands sternly.   A snort of air rushes from your nose. “Yes, sir.”   Hoseok laces his fingers together, putting his hands under his chin as he gazes at you. “I’m also going to need a kiss from you before you leave this office.”   “What happened to staying professional?” You loll your head to the side, too amused.   “Is anyone around?”   “No,” There’s a pause and you counter, “but we’re still in the office.”   “That’s a good point.” He nods with another grin. “But I’m too tempted to do worse things.”   You scoff, standing on your feet and leaning over. Your right hand is pressed on the surface of his desk, holding your weight as you bend. Your left hand tugs on his tie, pulling him closer and you plant a kiss on his cheek, faintly staining his skin with your lipstick. You pull away just as fast, plucking the sheet of paper away from him. “Save it for after work, Jung. Or else I might find cause to sue you.”   “You’d never win.” He smirks, watching you saunter off.   You spin around one last time. “I think you underestimate me.”   The door shuts again and Hoseok sighs helplessly, turning back to work. Oddly enough, he’s more motivated than before to get things done.   //   While sometimes the workday feels short, for you it’s too long. If someone paid close attention to you, they’d notice the way your left leg was jumping underneath your desk and the way you were constantly glancing at the clock, waiting for five o’clock to roll around, too antsy to get out of here.   Luckily for you, after the ninetieth glimpse of the time, five o’clock has finally come.   “Goodnight, Y/N.” Naul bids farewell as she passes and you mimic her goodbye. The office slowly but surely empties out. You’re getting closer and closer—   “Are you leaving yet?” Seulgi swings by your office, coat and bag in her hands, big eyes anticipating and slightly surprised you’re still at your desk.   “I...uh…overtime….” Your eyes accidentally stray to Hoseok’s office and the door that remains closed. With a long sigh and not wanting to draw suspicion, you collect your belongings. “I’m leaving too.”   “Cool.” The paralegal follows you out, past the floor, his office, the front desk and the elevators. The metal doors part and sadly close. But you try not to seem disappointed. “Are you doing anything after work?”   “Just the usual. Hanging out at home, catching up on some TV, catching up on some sleep. You?”   “Just going out with some friends.” Seulgi checks her phone, scrolling through her endless text messages. “I’ve already skipped out on three outings with them because somehow Hoseok always miraculously finds a way to shove work at me right before I’m supposed to go.”   “Well, he tries his best. There’s a lot of work to do.”   The female scoffs. “I don’t know about that. He’s not so strict anymore, but he’s still an ass.”   “I don’t think you should speak about our boss in that way.” You turn to her with a sudden sharp and fierce tone, causing her to become startled. You swallow hard, softening your voice and trying to explain yourself, “Hoseok tries his best and he actually has a hard time keeping everything afloat. He actually cares a lot about his employees. We just have to learn to recognize it.”   “I’m...sorry,” she murmurs after blinking a few times.   “No, it’s okay. I understand how easy it is to be swept up and believe that he doesn’t care, but believe me, Hoseok is the complete opposite.”   Seulgi nods and when the elevator doors open, you both walk through the lobby, bidding goodbye to the security guard. “Oh, Y/N, do you want me to give you a ride to the station? I’m heading in that direction anyways.”   You smile, touched by her offer. “No, it’s okay.”   “Are you sure?” She frowns in confusion.   “Yeah, I’m fine. I have to pick up some stuff on my way to the station, so I don’t want to be a bother.”   “Alright.” She gets into her car. “See you tomorrow?”   “Tomorrow!” You wave goodbye.   Meanwhile, Jimin is still packing up his things in his office. He didn’t realize it was so late, having been working ahead and caught up in it beyond the recognition of time. So now he happily hums, stepping out of his office, heading towards the elevators. But a flicker of light from the corner of his eye causes the lawyer to freeze mid-step. His neck cranes over. He walks. And he throws open his partner’s door.   “Are you going?”   “No.” Hoseok is preoccupied with papers all over his desk. “Have some work to do.”   But Jimin doesn’t buy it so easily, especially when he knows what work there is...or rather, lack thereof. The brunette frowns, thinking hard and tilting his head. “What work?”   At the same time, the lawyer’s phone chimes loudly. Hoseok picks up the device, smiling momentarily at the screen before pocketing it. “Actually, I am going.”   The lawyer already standing is shocked to say the least. His partner isn’t one to change his mind so quickly. He can’t help but stare at him, even as they both walk out. “Why are you so happy lately?”   “I’m not. It’s nothing.”   “You’re not or it’s nothing?”   “Both.”   Typically, Jimin can read his partner’s expression — Hoseok doesn’t hide many things. But at the moment, he can’t read his expression at all. “Does it have to do with Y/N?”   “What? No. Why would you say that?”   “I don’t know.” He shrugs. “You guys talk a lot these days — I thought you said she was annoying.”   Jung Hoseok is appalled and his mouth draws open, high-pitched whining voice channeled outwards. “I never said that!”   “Alright, alright.” Jimin backs off with open hands and the two of them exit the elevator. “Maybe I’m remembering wrong,” he mutters and they leave the building. But even stranger and more baffling to him is how Hoseok takes a left instead of right, the opposite direction of the parking lot. “Hey! Where are you going? What about your car?”   “I parked somewhere else. Bye! See you tomorrow!”   “What the…” If it were possible, there would be a question mark floating above his head. Heck, his entire face has practically turned into a question mark. Jimin can’t understand — Hoseok has a reserved parking spot. Why would he park somewhere else?   Yet, he is only left with more unanswered questions as he watches his partner walk off with a skip in his step. And he can only get into his own vehicle with a sharp inhale, confused to no end.   Hoseok walks three blocks and then he hears a very familiar, warm voice. “‘Bout time.”   He smiles, finding you leaning on his car with your arms crossed and lips pouty. “Sorry, I was caught up.”   “You don’t have to drive me in the morning, you know.” The two of you parked far away, not wanting to get out of the car together in the morning and arouse suspicion from the employees of the office. It was definitely a hassle, but one you didn’t mind so much.   “But I want you to see you,” he says and you know he doesn’t mind either. Hoseok gets into the car while you slide into the passenger seat.   “You still see me at work.”   “It’s not the same.” He has a wide grin and then leans over, soft lips stamping on your cheek, kissing you, and catching you completely off guard. He says nothing, putting his keys into the ignition and firing up the engine. You give a small helpless sigh, smile stuck on your face as he pulls away from the curb and you both go home together.

It’s another ordinary day, one of the kinds that you’re most content with—   “Hey. Has anyone seen Hoseok?” Namjoon frowns, pushing up his glasses and leaning over to gather the attention of the other legal assistants. Seulgi shakes his head and so does Jin.   “Actually, I was looking for Y/N too.” Seokjin chews his crunchy carrots and speaks with his mouth full, annoying the living daylights out of Seulgi. “She’s not in her office either.”   “Huh.” She snaps out of her irritation caused by her coworker and tilts her head to the side.   It was a mystery indeed.   Jungkook passes by at the wrong time and is unfortunately questioned too. “Hey, Kook, have you seen Hoseok or Y/N?”   “Uh…” The boy’s doe eyes stare back into theirs. “No..?”   He walks away slowly, practically doing the moonwalk and he leaves into the kitchen, slipping away from them and making the legal assistants even more baffled with his bizarre behaviour. Eventually, the lawyer is found again and he tells Namjoon that he was in the bathroom. As for you…   “I was in the lobby.” You smile at Seulgi. “Is there something you needed?”   “No, I’m fine.” She shakes her head and walks away. Her thoughts are running wild, but she shakes it off with a tiny laugh and a scoff, feeling like she’s driving herself insane with her active imagination.   It can’t be…

These ordinary days are the ones you love most. You can’t complain, especially with the way your morning starts off.   “Sorry to keep you waiting.” You slip into the passenger seat with the brightest of smiles that would probably make Min Yoongi, the opposite of a morning person, want to kill you.   “I thought you were against being late.” Hoseok grins, hands on the steering wheel, but still not driving away just yet. “Isn’t that part of your rules for the office?”   “Yes,” you confirm. “So, we better get going here, Jung.”   “Not before I get my morning kiss.” The lawyer childishly pouts and he taps his plush lips with a single finger. You sigh in exhuasion and he only sulks harder, tilting his head. “C’mon! Hurry!” he whines and you laugh, giving in.   You lean over the console, pressing a single kiss to his mouth. The edges of his mouth lifts, smiling against yours. When you pull away, he mischievously chases after it, planting another peck to your lips. Happy and satisfied, Hoseok hollers loudly and begins driving. “Alright! Now we can go!”   Really, you don’t know what you’re going to do with him—   “Are you alright, Y/N?”   Inyoung appears by your side, shocking you and nearly making the coffee slosh past the rim and onto your clothes. You set the cup down, dazed. “Huh? Uh, yes, why?”   “Nothing. You were just smiling to yourself.” The accountant has her mouth meekly upturned and she scans you from head to toe, judgment lacking from her gaze and filled with fascination instead. “You look great.”   You blink. “I do?”   “Yes, you look very refreshed. Actually, I’ve noticed these days that you seem pretty happy, it’s almost like you’re glowing.”   “T-..thanks.” You laugh nervously, trying to cover it up, but cringing at how stiff it sounds. “It’s what eight hours of sleep does to you, I guess.”   “Ah...I wish I got eight hours of sleep. I actually suffer from insomnia sometimes.” �� “Oh, you want to talk about it? I don’t know how much actual advice I can offer you, but it might help. I know insomnia is linked to stress.”   “I would love that,” she says with a grin. Your head nods once, picking an appointed time later on in the day and taking a sigh of relief at how you narrowly escaped. You really need to stop daydreaming.

But what were you thinking about? Yes. It’s ordinary days like this that—   Kim Dahyun. She is a receptionist at Jung and Park. Most of the time, she feels like she’s just a side character in the firm, a sidekick so to speak. Not only does she have less of a strong personality than Lisa, the other receptionist, but she’s the newest addition to the office, albeit joining months ago. Apparently, she replaced a psycho girl before this. But that’s not important.   The important fact of the matter is that she’s decided to take control of her life again!   No longer will she be just a side-character. No longer is she going to be quiet and confused in conversations, still learning about the dynamics between people here. She’s going to make herself known in this office. She is going to show the other employees her bubbly personality that has been hidden away. She’s going to be the main character now!   And she’s going to start by going directly to her boss and asking for a raise!   Knock. Knock.   She opens after hearing a squeak inside. “Um—” The words die on her tongue when she realizes she’s interrupted. You’re standing across from Hoseok’s desk, obviously both having been engaged in a conversation. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”   The receptionist begins to back away, but you smile. “No, it’s okay. I was just leaving.”   You slip out of the room and Hoseok looks up with his piercing eyes. “Is there something you need from me?”   “N-No. Sorry.”   Okay. Courage might not be Dahyun’s strongest suit, but she’s going to assert her dominance one way or another. Now’s just not the right timing. But maybe she should talk to you and get your help. You’ve helped the others in this office get a raise before…   “I’ll be right back.” Dahyun sets down her bag and coat on the chair. Lisa nods, booting up the computer while peeling the vibrant pink paint off her fingernails. “I’m going to grab a coffee.”   She’s going to get herself a drink and find you. Tell you what’s going on. Get that raise.   “Why are you doing that?” Dahyun hears a giggle and she freezes. “Stop that, Hoseok.”   The receptionist’s eyes land on both you and Hoseok side by side at the counter of the kitchen. Her breath hitches. Her eyes grow wide. She begins to back away as if a predator is there, but it’s too late. You turn and notice her. Immediately, the conversation dies. Hoseok’s smile falls and your expression glazes over.   Then, faster than she can blink, you smile at her. “Good morning, Dahyun.”   “M-morning.”   The lawyer nods in acknowledgment and walks off with a coffee cup in hand while you’re still staring at the girl who’s caught like a deer in headlights. But you’re oblivious to her turmoil. “Did you need something?”   “No, no, I’m good…”   Kim Dahyun is in agony. Every corner she turns, she’s placed in an awkward position, somehow sandwiched between you and Hoseok. She is the third wheel with no intention of third-wheeling. This isn’t right. Maybe she’s not supposed to the main character, maybe this isn’t her story. All she knows is that it was certainly more peaceful when she decided to just do her job and not chase after this imaginary raise and ambition of being noticed.   She was being noticed alright — just in all the wrong ways.   A sigh spills from the seams of her lips and she pushes the elevator button to return to the proper office floor. She waits patiently and then the silver doors part. “—don’t make me tickle you!”   Your giggle and Hoseok’s laugh dies off.   Dahyun stares.

The lawyer glares. You smile at her again, stepping aside. She enters after a delayed moment, holding the file folder to your chest. The stiff air nearly suffocates her to death. Hoseok looks straight ahead, face blank and serious while you peek at the receptionist.   “Is everything okay, Dahyun?”   “I..uh...I’m okay,” she murmurs, breaking a sweat from the tension. That’s when she decides to go for the kill, just to put herself out of her own misery. “But...I...um..was thinking….a r-raise.”   “Would you like a raise?” you clarify and although Hoseok doesn’t say anything, you nod. “We’re in discussion for raises, so we’ll definitely keep you in mind. You’ve been doing a good job.”   “T-..thanks…”   The doors part with a chime and both you and the lawyer go your separate ways.   Dahyun barely drags her feet back to the front desk. Lisa is startled at how pale she looks, skin sickly in lack of colour. “What’s wrong?”   The receptionist doesn’t say anything, simply collapsing in her chair. Finally, her goal is complete. That’s all that matters. And she’s given up — she’ll just do her job quietly, go home quietly, mind her own business and hope one day she’ll save enough to pay for her own funeral.   Trying to be the main character of a story that doesn’t belong to her is giving the poor girl too much stress. She doesn’t want the spotlight anymore. Not only is she confused and placed in such bizarre situations, she doesn’t think she can handle it any longer. It was definitely weird…   But maybe it’s just a coincidence that you and Hoseok were always together. What were you thinking again? It felt like you forgot and faded in the background for a second….   It’s ordinary days like this that you cherish the most. Yes. That’s it.   “Hi, could I get a large black coffee to go? Also...I’d like a strawberry strudel.”   The question mark returns over Jimin’s head and after he makes his own order, he follows his partner to where the pick-up station is. “Don’t you hate strawberry strudels? You said it was too sweet once and you even spat it out.”   Hoseok shrugs nonchalantly. “My tastes changed.”   “Huh. Aren’t you a picky eater?”   The lawyer doesn’t even answer or respond to his question, preoccupied with tapping away on his phone.   //   Later on in the day, Jimin is making his rounds around the office, finding some spare time and checking around. He used to do it more often and it would take much longer considering how many times he would be stopped and complained to (most notably by Sunyi towards Yoongi). But it seems like these days, he can happily weave through tables and offices without being bombarded with excessive whines.   Everybody was doing well, focused on their jobs, office morale at a good place, content and happy. But there’s one notable thing.   “Oh, is that a strawberry strudel?”   You look up at your desk towards the brunette lawyer who’s popped his head through the doorway. “Yeah. Do you want some?”   “No, I’m okay. But did you get that at the coffee shop?” He tilts his head, pointing at the sweet treat with a twitching smile and his other arm behind his back. The question mark above Jimin’s head is on the verge of exploding.   “I brought it from home,” you say with a smile.   Boom. The floating question mark blasts. Jimin leaves casually, but behind his office doors, his eyes are narrowed, two fingers parting his blinds carefully to stare out at the office floor. He isn’t Park Jimin anymore — he’s Sherlock Holmes. And he’s going to find out what the fuck is going on because he knows there’s something, merely right under his nose. He can sniff it in the air.   He’s a hyperactive cat high on curiosity instead of catnip.   There’s never been a moment where he’s been this curious, itching to know what’s going on, and as nosy and intrusive as it is, he stalks you both.   But when he eavesdrops, it’s just mundane conversations and always work related. When you’re both together, it’s by coincidence. The rational part of Jimin’s brain tells him that you and Hoseok are just good friends and he’s projecting his own ‘needs’ onto the two of you, as if you both were having some hot affair that Jimin wishes he had….   But the lawyer is stubborn and won’t give up so easily, especially when it comes to his equally stubborn partner.   “Hey, Y/N. Do you want to go out to lunch?”   “I’d love to,” you reply easily, playing right into Jimin’s hand.   It was perfect. He was going to set it up and make it so that you both would be going out to lunch with him. From there, Jimin would be able to observe how you two react with each other and he could do his interrogation at the same time too. It was impeccable—   “I’m busy,” Hoseok mutters. “Can’t.”   “What? You have to!”   “We already had our monthly date last week if you didn’t remember.” He flips through several papers, licking his thumb in the process, chin deep in work.   Jimin makes a last ditch attempt. “Y/N’s coming.”   Hoseok doesn’t even look up at him. “So?”   Fail. He sighs and walks away, not knowing what else to do. With his mind preoccupied on it all day, even as you sit across from him in the breakroom and share a salad during lunch, he doesn’t realize when five o’clock has rolled around and all the employees are leaving.   “Hey, I’m heading out now,” his partner tells him on the way out.   “Oh. Okay. Goodbye.” Jimin waves like a prince riding a carriage, acknowledging his presence. Hoseok disappears soon after...and then, Jimin’s legs take off. He bursts down the hallway, stopping on his heel and looking into your office. Lo and behold, you’re still there. “Y/N?”   “Hey.” You look up at him. “Is everything alright?”   His chest rises and falls, trying to catch his breath. “No-....I’m good. Are you going home?”   You melt into a sheepish smile. “No. Unfortunately, I think I’m going to go overtime. I’m trying to finish this. I hope you don’t mind.”   “It’s fine.” He backs away and then runs towards his office, ignoring the frown Seulgi sends him for being so outlandish. Jimin is more focused with leaping towards his glass windows and then he looks down….finding Hoseok driving away in his car.   Whelp. Perhaps the strudel incident was really just a coincidence. There’s no other evidence of anything else going on. You’re both the same and Hoseok doesn’t act like he particularly cares about you. Jimin doesn’t want to ask you or his partner directly, knowing his boundaries and honestly already feeling guilty for being so suspicious and nosy in your private business.   But the emotion that overwhelms him the most is disappointment.   Jimin would’ve been so happy if you and Hoseok had actually something going on beyond a platonic sense. For a second there, he was actually excited. Secretly, he always felt you two were a good match with each other — you got to the deeper parts of Hoseok’s personality and he always seemed to anchor you down. Plus, Jimin doesn’t want Hoseok to die alone. The guy’s been working hard for the past two decades and he’s the one who deserves to feel happy the most.   Park Jimin sighs to himself and muses that by the time Hoseok’s in a retirement home, the guy will only have him. But it would’ve been so nice if you both were together. Oh well. It is what it is.   //   Twenty minutes later, you’ve left the office to make the trek towards the station, but you stop only a block away from the firm. While standing on the curb of the street, eventually a familiar car pulls up and you open the door, jumping in.   “Did you get the food?” you ask, planting a quick kiss to his cheek.   “Just in time before they closed!”   “Nice!”   Things were great. Everything was going smoothly with Hoseok thus far. You were happy as can be, floating on cloud nine, and no one in the office suspected a single thing.

Min Yoongi wants to jump in front of a train, a school bus, maybe both.   He couldn’t believe he was going into the office when it was nearly midnight, just because he was a big enough idiot to forget to bring his work home. Sunyi’s right. He’s a dumbass. Sure, Yoongi needed to finish it over the weekend and he could’ve picked it up tomorrow when it wasn’t at an ungodly hour. But then again, he also knew that there was no way in hell he was waking up at a reasonable time and he most positively did not want to step out of his house on a Saturday when it was not necessary.   He’s a night owl and isn’t tired when making the trek to the office. On the bright side (if there was one), at least he could come in wearing his pajamas and no one would notice….only the night guard who waves while making his rounds.   Yoongi fishes out the office keys and easily opens the door. Immediately, something catches his eye. It’s odd. Hoseok’s office lights are still on. The impassive lawyer wonders if Hoseok is having a late night like he is or maybe one of the cleaning staff accidentally left it on.   He approaches, about to ask his old friend, but then he hears….moaning.   There’s the sound of creaking inside, like a ghost taking refuge on an old rocking chair placed on a patio of some horror house. He walks away, beelining for his office. Yoongi sighs, picking up his shit to get the fuck out. But unfortunately for him and probably because Sunyi has cursed him so many times, as he walks out with an entire box of papers, the door to Hoseok’s office opens.   You’re there.   Just like he thought.   “Yoongi?!” You’re shocked, frozen mid-step, not able to take a step closer towards the bathroom that you were heading into. You blink hard, wondering if you’re seeing a phantom. You aren’t.   “Hey.” He greets you with a blank expression like it’s an ordinary day and he isn’t dressed from head to toe in blue airplane pajamas, freshly washed hair, and you weren’t still in your work attire. “I came to pick this up. Working on the client file over the weekend.”   “Oh. I-uh...I was doing some overtime. I’m….a-about to go home too.”   Yoongi nods, gripping the box. “See you.”   But as the lawyer brushes past, he stops temporarily, cranes his neck and whispers in your ear— “Your skirt is on backwards.”   You’re beyond embarrassed. Mortified. The planet could swallow you whole. Steam rises from your ears. It doesn’t help that you’ve preached about not engaging in any sexual misconduct within a five hundred radius of the building. But you don’t say anything and as Yoongi walks away nonchalantly, he peeks into the office where Hoseok is putting on his pants, faced away from the door and oblivious to his existence.   You knew it was a bad idea. But when you tell Hoseok, he only laughs, mumbling something about how that sounds exactly like Yoongi.   //   You’re not so sure how long the butterflies will last. There will come a time when holding hands with Jung Hoseok and kissing him on the lips will no longer send swooping tingles to your stomach and make you giddy and giggly. But then you remember already living past the part already. Past the part where special moments became ordinary and mundane, and you’re not so worried as before.   As long as neither you nor Hoseok give up, then things will work out. You believe in him. You believe in yourself. You believe in the two of you together. That’s how the thirty days pass and no one makes mention of it, no one decides to wave the white flag and declare to adjourn this relationship.   “What is this?”   He asks as you throw a thick pile of two hundred sheets on the coffee table, nursing a glass of wine in your other hand. You plop down on the plush couch, taking your place beside him. “It’s my first draft of the staff handbook. I finally finished.”   “What?” He frowns, putting down his own glass to hold the pile.   “Remember? You told me to work on one when I first came to the firm.”   It takes a long second before his features light up with recognition. “Right. Wow, I didn’t know you would actually do it.” A grin pulls into his rosy cheeks and he flips to the second page, reading it. “Okay, let’s see what you did here. Oooh, Jung and Park. A Divorce Law Firm. I like it already.”   You scoff, having an inkling that he’s so soft, he’ll even like it if you only wrote three words per page.   Throughout the night of reading and going through the draft of your staff handbook, the wine glasses become empty and you become sleepy, curling onto his side, lulled from the warmth radiating off his body. “Hoseok…”   “Hmm?”   “Hani wants to go on a trip,” you murmur. “All of us. Taeyeon, Changsub, Daehwi.”   He hums a soothing, low note that vibrates in your ears pleasantly. “That’ll be a lot of fun.”   “I’m still mad at Changsub,” you whisper and he laughs quietly, squeezing you.   “Well, I’m thankful for him,” he says. “Actually...if it weren’t for him, how long would you have waited to tell me about all of it.”   “I don’t know.” Your eyes flutter shut, words spilling out slowly. “Didn’t...want to risk it. I wouldn’t mind being your friend...as long as I’m beside you…..”   The corner of his lips tilt and he gazes endearingly at your profile before kissing the top of your head. Hoseok nuzzles into you, pulling the blanket up to your chin and you both fall asleep on the couch together.