Chapters: 3/5 Fandom: Deus Ex: Human Revolution, Deus Ex (Video Games) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Adam Jensen/Francis Pritchard Characters: Francis Pritchard, Adam Jensen, David Sarif Additional Tags: augmentations, Body Modification, Hallucinations, Hacking, Virus, Frenemies, Friends to Lovers, fun with memory clusters Summary:
Pritchard discovers the dangers of having neural augmentations, and it’s up to Jensen to try and save him.
Fun fact: I meant to finish this yesterday but made the mistake of watching The Plague Dogs while I took a break. Never seen it before. Was fucked up for the rest of the evening.
Anyway, I really hope you guys like this chapter. When I try and do plot I always feel like a two-year-old with a crayon trying to colour inside the lines… so I hope this isn’t too bad!
16. “oh, that’s a creep. quick, hold my hand and he might not come here.”
You were a barista at a cafe downtown even though coffee was not always your thing. But your co-worker, Kim Rowoon, behind the cashier was.
Everything about his physique was perfect - from his eyes to his nose to his lips and his body. To say that you fancied him was an understatement. You were in love with him. And it seemed that he was too - giving heart-fluttering compliments to you when you came to work or brought you out for a quick snack during breaks. It was a wonder why the both of you weren’t a couple yet. “When you’re ready.” He’d say with a smile tugging his lips, his eyes sparkling as they looked into yours. But whatever. As long as he didn’t have another girl then you’re fine.
It was a Thursday and you came earlier than expected, Rowoon not in sight and the cafe still a lifeless empty space without the lights turned on or the scent of coffee in the air. After whirring up the coffee maker and putting a fresh tray of mini pies into the oven, you wiped the tables and refilled the sugar and creamer packets when you heard the bell above the door ring.
“Morning y/n.” Rowoon greeted, putting his bags under the counter with yours and wearing his apron. He looked good today, his hair slicked back and his sleeves folded up to his elbows. The black apron he wore somehow made him look extremely hot. He smirked, “You’re staring.”
Dammit, you cursed, quickly snapping your head to the table you were cleaning. “Shut up.” You frowned, clicking your tongue.
Work after that was a bit rushed. With college students flooding the cafe to get their daily dose of caffeine and couples coming in for a simple breakfast. It wasn’t until the door chimed again and your eyes widen did Rowoon ask you, “What’s wrong?”
You dived under the counter so that the man in the black hoodie wouldn’t see you, his eyes scanning the cafe like a hawk looking for none other than; you. “It’s my ex dammit what’s he doing here?”
“That’s your ex?” Rowoon chuckled after crouching next to you. “You know, for a pretty lady like you, you sure have a peculiar taste in men.”
You rolled your eyes and punched his shoulder making him bite his lower lip in pain and stood up, trying not to look suspicious. The man looked at Rowoon with a cold glare on his face, his lips an upside down “U”, proceeding to look at the other customers around him to find you.
“Oh that’s a creep.” Rowoon let out a breath he unconsciously held. “Quick, hold my hand and he might not come here.” He said lowly, putting his hand out for you.
“How would holding your hand shoo him away from me?” You protested, pushing his hand away only for him to grab it.
“Just trust me.” He muttered, pulling you up and closer to him so that he held your hip just when the your ex turned to see you behind the counter.
You flinched. “Jaebum.”
“What brings you here?”
“Who’s the guy?’ Jaebum’s eyebrow arched.
“He’s my -”
“Boyfriend. I’m her boyfriend.” Rowoon cut you mid-sentence.
“He’s my boyfriend.” You clarified, your head spinning. What the hell?
“I’ll just come another time.” Jaebum glared, making his way out the cafe. Clearly things weren’t going as planned for him.
You sighed, burying your face in your hands. “My boyfriend? Really?”
“What?” Rowoon smiled, watching you run your fingers through your hair. “I’m going to be anyway.”
“You better not pull some stupid prank on me -”
“Will you be my girlfriend?” He chuckled, pinching your cheeks. “Of course you’d say yes. I mean, who could resist me?”
Your lips twitched into a smile. “Don’t be so full of yourself, Kim Rowoon.”
I apologize for being the wet blanket at the mo. The news about Carrie Fisher is really getting to me. Like, bad. The kind of bad where I’m gonna need to call my therapist while she’s on vacation bad.
Yeah, I know the whole “But you never even know her! Stop making this about you!!” thing and I get that. I’m not trying to make this about me.
I grieve for her family. I grieve for her. I grieve for a world without her in it. I grind my teeth at the fact that just yesterday, we were being told she was stable. I grieve for the complete suddenness of this. It feels like I’m one big ball of grieving.
I’ve always been attuned to people’s emotions. Call it bullshit if you like, but when enough people are sad or hurt or angry, you *feel* that. It’s in the air, in your veins. It becomes you.
Today is a grieving day, and the fact that I can’t lay in bed and sleep through it is turning me into a major depresso grump. I don’t take feelings like this and turn them into art, as much I’d love to for Carrie Fisher’s sake. I shut down, I reboot, I make things than after a nice joke or two.
I’m in shut down mode right now.
And the plain fact is, I can’t be on here (Tumblr) right now. Every other post is a tribute to Carrie Fisher, or a gifset, or whatever. Which is good, it’s deserved. But man, I can feel my chest tightening up just thinking about. I’ve been crying most of the day, and lemme tell ya, that is not easy when you sit in a crowded office answering phones for eight hours a day.
I probably won’t be on for a bit. I just can’t handle this place right now, and I hope you peeps understand. (I’m not even sure why I’m making this post. Trying to explain, I guess, but words are just *pzzzrtblght* right now. It feels like I’ve lost someone I knew.)
Thanks for understanding, and if you don’t *shrug* You are who you are.
And, sorry for being the drama llama. Happens. I’m gonna go now.
on a less depressing note i know we all love long-hair Doug and that life post-securité has been difficult but listen. Doug having to cut his hair to regulation before being sent into space and aggressively just not touching it again afterward for months and it drives Minkowski to the point of threatening to cut it for him because dammit Eiffel youre ex-military you know the rules before she eventually gives up because if he can fit it into a neat ponytail or bun for mechanics work where it might be a liability then who cares.