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stutterfly · 3 years

Text

Swipe Right 04 | Patch Notes | JJK (M)

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader, brot7 x friendship

Genre: E2L, fluff, angst, humor, [eventual] smut, PersonalTrainer!Jungkook, fuckboy!Jungkook, Nerd!Jungkook, Nerd/IT!Reader

Word Count: 15.1K

Last time on SR03: You joined a gym to increase your confidence and things progressed the way you want with your tinder match. You ended up in an unlikely competition with your friends when you went new bar together, leading to some unexpected conversations and shenanigans.

CW & Other Tags: Drinking, anxiety/panic attack mentions, muscle tearing injury mention, fuckboy Jungkook, pining, flirting, pick-up lines, sexual tension, Joonie is still Y/N’s best boi, soft Jungkook

Series: Activate your SIMCard

Fic: Swipe Right (4/?- Ongoing)

Do not repost.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

When’s the last time you felt as good as you do right now? Jungkook has pretty much stopped bothering you since that night at Seesaw, your date with Jason went well, and you’ve been sticking to your early morning workouts. You definitely don’t push yourself as much as trainer Hwasa, and you know you should really take advantage of the free trial, but it was overwhelming to take in so much at once and the session made you sore all over for days.

At least your stamina seems to be improving and you’ve discovered post-workout endorphins are real. Tonight is your second date with Jason, a date you’ve uncharacteristically elected to host at your apartment. You can place some blame on those endorphins for your boldness, with pining and disappointment composing the rest of it.

While your first date ended without a kiss, there was enough flirting to keep you hopeful. Neither of you were brave enough to do anything about it then, but you’ve mentally coached yourself into pretending like you have an unbreakable spine with nerves of steel. Meeting him only solidified your attraction, and you’ve resolved to take the lead, even though you feel like you have no idea what you’re doing.

It’s not like you often make the first move, but your confidence in him to do so has waned. You’ve been talking and playing games together online for months without any physical touch. Despite how he’s said he likes you and wants to see you again, you’d still be waiting if you didn’t suggest today.

You’re determined to show him what he’s missing by being a recluse. That’s why you’ve picked out the sluttiest clothes and the strappiest heels you own, decorated your face with expensive makeup, and even styled your hair instead of just letting it do whatever it wants for the day. You check yourself out in the full-length mirror on your bedroom door for the millionth time and pull down on the hem of your dress like it will somehow magically grow longer.

You don’t need the heels; no part of the night calls for them. You’re going to be sitting on the couch with him. If you’re lucky you’ll even move it to the bedroom you spent so much time cleaning. But they’re cute and they make you feel sexy, so you’re going to keep them on until he’s peeling you out of your dress.

Nerves bubble in your stomach, but you have to pretend like they’re not there or you’ll fixate on how hard you’re trying to be confident and cool. You’ll fall apart when it’s obvious to Jason how hard you’re pretending to be everything you aren’t. Checking your phone doesn’t help; it’s almost time.

Taking a deep breath, you pace through the confines of your apartment as you wait, and answer group texts from Jennie and Namjoon. You offer up a selfie, hoping any compliments will build your confidence enough to stave off the anxiety in your gut. A few devil emojis later, some keysmashing, and more than a couple hamfisted compliments from Namjoon, your ego is adequately inflated but you can always use more hyping. Maybe you should send it to Jimin to fish for more compliments? He’d indulge you for sure.

Instead you flop on the couch and open Tinder. According to Jennie, Jason is stringing you along; it’s been months, but you hate to admit that she has a point. So you don’t. She’s been telling you for a while now that she thinks you should pursue other suitors. While you object to her assumptions, she has more experience with this kind of stuff. It’s not exactly something you want to believe, not when you’ve put in so much effort for literal months.

You want to believe in Jason being awkward and dorky and that’s why it’s taken so long for the two of you to hook up. He’s shy and super introverted, but so are you. So why are you the only one trying to make things happen? You want to believe, but at this point you’re uncertain enough to heed Jennie’s advice and keep swiping any time you find yourself in a situation where you’re waiting on him. Like now.

You have your reservations about swiping while you wait for your date to begin, but you can practically hear Jennie cheering you on. He’s late anyway, and it will keep you busy until he arrives. You open the discovery tab and swipe left on a couple incomplete profiles. Most of the guys on here don’t put in any effort. How are you supposed to want to give any of them a chance when you don’t even get a tiny snapshot of who they are?

When you pass on yet another fish pic profile, a blue frame appears around the next guy in line. It takes a moment for your brain to register the name along with the duck-faced photo as someone familiar.

[Jungkook said: Your legs remind me of oreos 🥴 wanna know why?]

How fucking dare he? You match with the intent to ream him out and leave.

You: I told you not to fucking find me on here

It takes only a few seconds before you see the dots move on his end, like he was waiting for the moment you would answer, and it keeps you tethered to the conversation.

Jungkook: Princess!! I couldn’t help myself how are you

Jungkook: Surprised you didn’t block me

You: Don’t worry I’m gonna

Jungkook: it’s bc you wanna know huh

You: ???

Jungkook: Your legs

Jungkook: Like oreos

Jungkook: I wanna split them n lick the cream from the center 😜

Electricity rumbles in your gut, carrying heat and a surge of excitement to your cunt that threatens to flood your panties. You swallow hard and squeeze your thighs together as you stare at the screen. Embarrassed by the response his antics elicit, you scramble to formulate a coherent thought.

You: I wish I could unread 🤢

Jungkook: Aw but that’s one of my favorites

Jungkook: Just like you 😘

You: 🙄

You: I hate you so much

Jungkook: So much that you matched with me?

You stare at the message like a clever response will come to you and when it doesn’t you bite your lip. He’s got a point. Haven’t you learned your lesson not to encourage him? Your eyes scan the top of your phone for any notifications from Jason. Nothing. At least this is keeping you distracted. That’s what you tell yourself.

Jungkook: You’re still here which means 👀

You: It means I’m tired

Jungkook: Of?

You pause for a moment. Namjoon and Jennie can’t know how anxious you are about Jason. It’s the guy’s last strike with them and he hasn’t even met them yet. Jungkook, an impartial third party, might be able to lend an ear. As much as you don’t care what he thinks, you need an outlet for the anxiety in your chest. You start to draft a word-vomit. Jason has been so hesitant to see you in person again and now he’s late. Maybe if you just put it out there to someone you’ll feel better.

Jungkook: If you need to sleep how about a massage?

Jungkook: I’m good with my fingers 🥴

Stupid. In what universe could you confide in Jungkook? Deleting your word-vomit before you can send it, you start to type something else, but your thumb accidentally taps enter at the exact wrong moment.

You: You know what? I want you

FUCK. Goddamn you, sausage fingers.

You scramble to rewrite the sentence but Jungkook is quicker. He has to know it was an accident, but you’re still fucking mortified.

Jungkook: 😈

Jungkook: My place

Jungkook: Ten minutes

You: *to stay off my profile

Jungkook: 👉👌?

You: YOU KNOW I DIDN’T MEAN THAT

You: 🤢🤢🤢

Jungkook: 😩

Jungkook: Now you’re just playing games with me princess

Jungkook: Can’t say I mind just fuck me up 🥴

You: Don’t you have a princess to fuck in another castle? Maybe she can stroke your tiny ego

Jungkook: Ouch felt that from here

He goes quiet and you close the conversation out. Setting the phone down on the cushion beside you lasts all of two seconds. When your phone buzzes twice, you know better than to answer, yet you feel compelled to look.

Jungkook: Hey quick question

Jungkook: Is this the most you’ve used the app to talk with someone you like? 👻

Just like that you unmatch with him and take a moment to seethe. Distraction or no, he’s not worth the mental energy. He always seems to draw you in like a pretty little thirst trap and drain you of your sanity. Not engaging is the safest option so why do you always end up doing so? Maybe it’s that shitty little part of you that gets excited any time he shows you attention.

There’s a gullible girl within you; she sets your pulse on fire when he feigns even the slightest interest, fills your head with wind when he brushes against you, and floods your eyes with tears when he walks away. Still, she wants him to look at you, even if it means he’s really looking through you. You hate her. Why can’t she learn that you deserve better?

You check the time again and wince. Jason is really late now. Not even a text. Or a phone call. Maybe it’s traffic?

Try to relax. Nothing bad is going to happen. You’re going to have fun tonight.

You start up a game to take your mind off the options available to explain his absence. When you’re invested in a game you often lose track of time, but tonight you’re hyper-aware of every minute that passes. You bite at your freshly painted nails during loading screens, chipping the red from their edges. Sounding casual is difficult when you’re worried, but you attempt it anyway via text. It’s ten more agonizing minutes of waiting before your phone buzzes with an answer.

The controller drops to your lap and immediately tears begin to sprinkle your thighs with the manifestation of your heartache.

He forgot.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

An earthy scent fills Namjoon’s apartment as he carefully transfers the last of his plants to a bigger pot, filling in the edges of its roots with fresh soil and patting the edges down with care. His plants have needed this, maybe even more than he needs the mini hangout that will soon follow. The kitchen table is covered in dirt, but at least he’s almost done.

It’s not his fault Jungkook showed up earlier than expected. At least he’s quiet now. It’s been a while, but he’s finally stopped asking about how much longer it will take, so he must either be invested in the show he put on or asleep on the couch.

“Almost done,” Namjoon loudly announces. “Can you text Tae?”

“Kay.” Jungkook yawns as he stands and heads towards the bathroom. “Jin was already cooking when I left so it should be ready soon.”

“Good. I’m hungry,” Namjoon says, carefully transporting the plant to the desk in his bedroom.

As he’s on his way to clean up the mess on the table there’s a soft rapid knock at the front door. The moment he opens it and finds you standing before him, he knows something is wrong. Even the ratty hoodie covering your shoulders can’t hide the effort you’ve obviously put into your appearance tonight. While your makeup seems to have fared rather well, your eyes are red and your cheeks are puffy. His mind automatically assumes the worst about your second date and his jaw tightens.

“What happened? Did he hurt you?”

“He never showed.” You throw your arms around him and openly sob.

“Oh, Y/N…” His arms are around you in an instant, hugging you close while keeping his dirty fingers at bay.

You press your cheek against his chest, letting the tears fall freely. “I’m sorry. I know you probably have plans tonight, but I wanted to stop here—” You choke out a loud sob and wipe your nose with your sleeve as you look down at the floor. “I didn’t want to drive upset but you weren’t answering and I just—”

“Shit. Exam today. I left it on silent.” He pats his pocket to make sure it’s still there, wiping as much dirt as he can on his jeans before placing his hands on your shoulders. “Hey, it’s okay. Deep breaths.”

Jungkook emerges from the bathroom quietly with a furrowed brow and pursed lips. Did he hear your voice or is it his imagination? Unsure if you’re some wishful remnant of earlier texts, he peeks around the corner.

Heels: black, strappy heels with a velvety smooth red undersole. Has he ever seen you in heels? If he has, it’s never been something as flashy as these. His gaze travels up the smooth, exposed skin of your legs until it hits the hem of a skirt. The dark fabric seems a little short; it clings to your thighs, riding up as you embrace his friend. It’s hard not to notice how well it accents the curve of your hips and more importantly: your ass. He’s definitely never seen you in something so revealing, not even on nights where you’ve joined them for dancing.

He pauses for a fraction of a second, eyes trained on the swell of your ass before moving up to find the disappointing sight of your favorite hoodie barring much else from view. Namjoon’s arms outline your shape, but the places his hands rest are far too respectable to glean much else other than simple blueprints.

With his dick leading his steps, Jungkook opens his mouth to announce his presence with a joke. He means to selfishly steal a glimpse of your entire ensemble with some snarky comment but you choke out a sob and his stomach lurches to form a whirlpool of apprehension. His mouth remains open, but his words are swallowed back into the dark swirling pit that now wrenches his gut in circles.

Namjoon looks up just in time to read the confusion and shock on his features. He shakes his head and cups yours against his chest, wordlessly signaling Jungkook to keep quiet.

“Is there anything I can do? Do you wanna talk about it?” Namjoon asks, hoping you don’t see the man behind you slowly backing away like he’s just approached a rabid animal.

You’re sobbing. Why are you sobbing? What happened? Was it what he said before you unmatched? Jungkook tiptoes back into the kitchen without a word. He leans against the counter and shoves his hands in his coat pockets, trying to piece everything together. Did he cause this?

You screw your eyes shut to try to keep the tears inside. It’s no use. They always seem to find a way out. “He didn’t show up and when I texted him, he… he said he forgot."

“What?"

“I thought it would be good after the arcade date, you know? Like, good chemistry. He’s weird. I like him! He seemed interested and we made these plans and he just—” you choke out another loud sob. “God. Am I really so fucking forgettable?”

You wanted your friends to be wrong so badly that you ignored the fact that it’s been like pulling teeth trying to get Jason to meet up again. For him to forget completely is like a kick to the face that leaves all the teeth intact, maybe a little bloody, but stubbornly intact.

“Y/N, no. It’s not your fault. You deserve better than this fucking guy.”

Jungkook swallows hard. This definitely doesn’t feel like a conversation he should be hearing, but it’s loud enough to carry through the entire apartment. Kitchen, bedroom, or bathroom: his options are limited, but he knows there’s nowhere to go to pretend like he can’t hear it. It’s not like he can just walk out the front door now.

“Do I? It’s seems like a fucking pattern, Joon. I fall for people so easily and they always make me feel like an idiot for trying. Donghyun. Seojun. Jason. Jungkook… It doesn’t matter. No one fucking wants me.”

Jungkook tenses. He may not know all the names on your list, but his is among them all the same. Has he really hurt you so much?

“Hey… Don’t think like that,” Namjoon says, his voice soft as he rubs your back. “You know your worth, and it’s not measured by how well someone else can see it.”

Every time you think you’re done crying, fresh tears begin to roll down your cheeks. “I’m tired, Joonie.”

“I know. I’m sorry. We'll get you home."

As you step back to look at him your ankle rolls, and you begin to fall. Hearing the scuffle, Jungkook winces and peeks around the corner. Namjoon has a good enough grip to stop you from fully tumbling to the floor, but you’re definitely not stable by any means.

Although you now face Jungkook, you’re too distracted by your ankle to notice the extra pair of eyes on you. He allows himself to stupidly linger within your line of sight, raking his gaze across your form to take in the details of your attire, right down to your choice of earrings. Even with a red nose and puffy, smudged eyes, the time you’ve spent on your appearance remains evident.

You did all that for some guy who didn’t even show? If that’s how you dress for your dates then his innocent perception of you is completely wrong. What kind of moron would pass up the opportunity to peel you out of that dress and dive into your cunt? You look incredible. What the fuck.

"God. Shit. Fuck! Fucking stupid heels!” You huff out your exasperation and let a small pitiful laugh pass your lips as you right your stance with Namjoon’s help. “You know, I spent hours getting ready and now I just look stupid. I feel stupid.”

“You don’t. You’re not,” Namjoon insists, his palm squeezing your shoulder.

“Namjoon, I shaved my entire body. Do you know how long that took?”

Jungkook forces himself to withdraw into the kitchen. If you see him now you might murder him. He purses his lips into a thin line and tightens his grip around his arms. In an instant he imagines hiking your dress above your hips and parting your legs so he might brush his cheek against the smooth expanse of your thigh all the way to your core. Are your panties as slutty as your dress? Are they cute? Lacy? Plain?

“Geeksquad…” Namjoon sighs loudly. “I really don’t need to know— Hold up. Wasn’t this the second date?”

“Are you slutshaming me?” The tired laugh that follows sounds more like you, but it still hurts his heart. “I’m stepping up my game.”

“Nah. You do you,” he says, a soft smile on his lips that’s obviously full of pity. “You want to stay and get some food? I think I have some sweats you can change into.”

Tires screech in Jungkook’s mind. Is he going to be trapped here for the night? Without dinner? What kind of karmic torture is the universe putting him through?

“No, I’m sorry,” you sniffle, wiping your face with the sleeves of your sweater. “Jennie wants me to come over but I—I didn’t think I could make it with having a full meltdown. You were on the way.”

“No need to apologize.” He pulls you into another tight hug. “Do you want me to walk you back to your car?”

“No, no it’s fine. I’m right in front. Thanks, Joonie.” Your phone begins to buzz in your hoodie pocket. You pull back and wave it at him, already on your way to the door. “It’s like she knew. I’ll talk to her on the way. Thank you for listening to me cry for the millionth time.”

“Always. Text me when you get there, okay?”

“Will do, mom,” you tease with a soft laugh.

“Zip up your hoodie.”

You grimace at him with narrowed eyes but heed his advice on your way out. You also pull your skirt down as far down your thighs as it will reach. Men are gross and you trust virtually none of them.

Jungkook waits until he hears the click of the lock on the door to breathe a loud sigh of relief. Namjoon rubs the back of his neck and stares at the door. He worries about you.

“Yikes. That Jason guy is a dick huh?”

Namjoon swivels on his heels and rounds on his friend. “Like you were so much better to her?”

Jungkook casts his gaze to the floor. “I didn’t stand her up.”

Even he knows that argument is flimsy.

“Guk.”

“It was always just a joke.”

“It’s not though. She really liked you, man. I asked you not to mess with her.”

Memories have warped Jungkook into a jaded man: untrusting although not uncaring. Guilt is the only thing churning in his stomach as he thinks of you. He never expected to genuinely hurt you. Somehow things twisted into a gnarled mess that never really felt like more than a playful game of tug-of-war. But these kinds of games only work when the people involved know that they’re playing. It’s shitty when one pulls another into the mud when they’ve never agreed to participate.

Faced with the reality of how you consider him now, it dawns on him that he’s dragged you into the mud face-first without even the slightest resistance. You’ve stood up and you’ve even yanked the rope in retaliation, but you never should’ve been in the mud in the first place. Regardless of his own emotional ineptitude, he knows you never deserved that humiliation. No one does. The weight of his actions sits heavy in his gut.

Still he tries to justify himself. “All I do now is make pass after pass and she’s the one who turns me down.”

“You said it earlier yourself,” Namjoon sneers, irritated by his friend’s immaturity. “It’s always a joke. You’re never serious and she knows it. Look, you don’t have to like her back. She’s my friend and so are you. Just don’t lead her on and stop with the mind games. Be honest with her. The least you can do is apologize for being a dick.”

“That’s— I feel like… I don’t know how.”

Jungkook can’t bring himself to tell him of your conversation earlier tonight. It just adds to the guilt piling on his conscience. Namjoon used his own words against him and the worst part is it makes sense. It’s so much easier when it’s a stranger at a bar or a random encounter at a club, but you’re neither of those things. He lumped you into that category all the same.

Namjoon clicks his tongue and puts an arm around Jungkook’s back. “Starting with ‘I’m sorry’ can go a long way. She’s a good person and I know you guys can get along. Things were going well until you made that bet, right?”

Jungkook opens his mouth to speak and then closes it. “Mmm.”

“Not every girl is a Jiseo, Jungkook.”

“Yeah.”

“I think…” Namjoon sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t know. Can you try to just... tone it down? Maybe try to patch things up?”

“Okay.” Jungkook’s brow furrows and he chews his lip as he mulls over Namjoon’s words. He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out his keys. “You ready?”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Your head dips forward as your fingers glide across the keys. It's hard to concentrate on your task when you're this distracted by your own thoughts. You stare at the monitor with furrowed brows. Namjoon grabs the back of your chair and leans forward to tower over you.

"Went that well, huh? Did he blow the second chance he didn’t deserve?"

The motion jerks you backwards and you grip the armrests of the chair to steady yourself. Despite your best attempt to curb the irritation in your expression, your frustration remains apparent. You sit back and tilt your head up to look at him, trying to think of something to say, some excuse to not reinforce the "told you so" waiting in your future, not after you showed up at his apartment sounding like a dying whale a few days before. When no ideas come to your immediate aid, you click your tongue and let out a heavy sigh as you turn your attention back to the screen.

"Geeksquad," he presses. "Talk to me."

You exhale through your nose and briefly purse your lips before obliging his plea. The words are quick and quiet so you don't run the risk of bawling your eyes out again. "He canceled.”

Namjoon steps back and the pressure on your seat is gone. He places a large palm on your shoulder. "I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about it?"

Despite wanting to give the opposite answer, you shake your head. You don't trust yourself to speak, but you'd like to tell him. He's clever and you know he'll likely find a way to get it out of you with minimal effort anyway. Still, you don’t think you can manage the words without crying like a baby and you don’t want to do that when the morning has only just begun. Silence falls between the two of you as he gives you time to decide if you want to open up.

After a moment of tapping away you finally give in. You know you’ll feel better after you cry.

"He said he had to stay behind and help do clean-up for the party he was at. And that’s nice and all, but we had plans. I feel crazy. I should be glad that he’s so kind, right? Like that shows he’s a good person, right?” Your voice has cracked but it hasn’t quite broken.

He sighs and flops in the chair on the other side of his desk. “Y/N… I think you’re asking me for answers you already know.”

“But tell me anyway,” you press, tears welling in your eyes. “Our first date went so well. So why-y-” Your voice breaks.

“Hey.” He reaches across the desk and brushes his fingers against your arm. “I know you want me to help you make excuses for him... But you deserve someone who values your time. Clearly he’s just looking to waste it.”

“But—”

“Y/N, you don’t need someone like that. If this is what he’s like before you’re even together, then what kind of effort is he really going to put into a potential relationship? Not enough. There are so many people out there, people that would trip over themselves just to have the chance to be with you. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I think it’s a mistake that you even gave him another shot. He blew it. Twice. Delete his number. Forget him.”

“I know,” you croak. Tears fall from your eyes and you quickly swipe them away, focusing on the task at hand.

Namjoon is right and you know it, but you’re kind of irritated about it. You know it’s not really him you’re mad at, but Namjoon is a good enough placeholder while you try to sort through your hurt feelings.

You muster your most monotone voice as you stand. “I updated your drivers and deleted any cached files that might have been causing issues. Is that all?”

“Don’t be mad at me,” he pleads, rising to block your path as you step towards the door. “You have a big heart and I hate seeing it stepped on.”

In a matter of seconds you melt into his embrace and bury your face into his shirt. “I hate how fast I like people.”

“I know.” He pets the back of your head softly and squishes you against his chest. “It’s gonna be okay. How about udon later? My treat?”

“With beef?” you ask with a sniffle.

“With beef,” he agrees.

“Gyoza?”

“Mhm.”

“And takoyaki?”

“...You’re pushing it.”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

You slide the appetizer tray across the table towards Namjoon. “Here.”

He shovels a dumping into his mouth right before he speaks. “I could eat this every day for the rest of my life.”

“Could you afford it though?” you tease, taking a sip from the bottle of saké and crinkling your nose at it before passing it to him.

“Not if you’re joining me,” he snorts. “You’re supposed to pour it.”

“No, thanks.” You push the tiny glass full of liquid back towards him.

"Wow. Are you guys on a date?"

You know the source of the voice before you even crane your neck to see Jungkook.

"Pfft." Namjoon waves the question off with a deep laugh.

Despite finding the scenario of ever dating Namjoon absolutely absurd, you can’t help but feel a little insulted by the volume of his laughter. Namjoon’s hangout night was supposed to take your mind off of how unwanted Jason made you feel. Instead, the pit of insecurity within your stomach grows into a thick, tangled brush of hostility. Is being seen with you really so laughable?

“Why would we be?” you snap, turning your attention back to your bowl.

Heat settles in your face and you purse your lips, not daring to look at either of them. You try to wrangle some noodles to shovel in your mouth before you can say something stupid. Their eyes are on you. Jungkook is definitely confused but not alarmed by your hostility. It’s something he’s grown accustomed to. But Namjoon knows when he hurts your feelings, every time, and it’s easy enough to disarm your irritability.

“She’s way too good for a mess like me,” Namjoon says with a light laugh.

“Why are you here?” you ask, tone already softer than before.

"Post-work snackie," he answers, all too cheery for your sour mood. “Came for the noods. Mind if I join?”

He looks to the rosy-cheeked Namjoon for his answer, as you set your hoodie and purse down in the space beside you to give him yours. Namjoon betrays you by scooting over to make room on his side of the booth. You’d mentioned to him before that you’d eventually like to fix things with Jungkook, to somehow make steps for peace. But you only have so much mental energy left to give today.

“Not tonight, Jungkook,” you plead with a sigh.

The frustration in that puff of breath is enough to make Jungkook hesitate. He blinks a few times, wide-eyed. “What?”

“I just… can’t handle your bullshit tonight.”

Jungkook tries to break the uncomfortable tension with a grin. “No bullshit tonight. Promise.”

“No.” Your answer is firm and somehow so fragile that it makes both men worry their brows in the same fashion. “Please, just go away.”

He shoves his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and takes a few steps back. He doesn’t know what to make of your demeanor, but he can put enough together to know the basics. You’re upset, maybe not at him for once. However unlikely, that’d be a blessing. Maybe you’re still upset about that guy that stood you up a few days ago. If that’s the case, he probably shouldn’t stick around and risk letting on how much he knows about that.

He tongues the side of his cheek and nods, forcing a smile to his face. “Alright. I’ll just order it to go. Planned on that anyway. Catch you later.”

Guilt wracks your nerves as he walks away. The moment you look back at Namjoon, you’re faced with a wall of disappointment that threatens to topple the scale of decision-making in Jungkook’s favor.

“You’re judging me for that,” you mumble. The noodles between your chopsticks slip back into the broth.

“Little bit,” Namjoon admits, watching his friend sulk over to the entrance waitstaff. “You know he told me he’s trying to be nicer to you.”

“What? When?”

“The other day. We hung out.”

He keeps his answers short and ambiguous, hoping your curiosity has been piqued. Maybe this is the golden opportunity he’s been hoping for to patch your friendship.

“Was this before or after he harassed me on Tinder?”

Namjoon’s heart sinks into his butt. Of course Jungkook would make reconciliation harder than it needs to be. “When did he do that?”

“That night I showed up at your apartment like a big crybaby.”

“I went over his place for dinner after you left. Jin wanted to try a new recipe out on us.” That seems to at least make you pause.

“You guys talked about me?”

“Yup.” He goes back to chewing his food, knowing he’s got you hooked.

Your incredulous stare does nothing to pull information past his lips. “Joonie. What did you say about me? What did he say?”

“Mmm?” He slurps up a long noodle. “A lot of things. But they’re not really my words to tell.”

“No one likes clickbait, Joon.”

“Look, all I’m saying is that he told me that he wants to fix things. If you want specifics, maybe we can invite him to come eat with us. It might be easier for the both of you to talk about it over good food.”

You sigh, seriously considering his words even as you shake your head. “Joon, I’m already emotionally compromised. I really don’t want to cry in front of Jungkook tonight.”

“Why would you cry? This is a night for good things only. Namjoon-approved and protected. You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to... I just thought it might be nice to make some good memories with good friends.”

You roll your eyes but hold your pinky out for him. “Fine. But this is Joonie-Y/N time. You’re cutting into that allotted time slot, you know that right?”

Namjoon rests his elbow on the table, preparing to pinky swear to whatever you’re about to suggest. “Conditions?”

“He sits next to you, he doesn’t make fun of me if I cry, and…. he doesn’t get to talk.”

“Y/N.”

“Fiiiiine. He can talk. But he better be as nice as you say he’s trying to be.”

“We allowed to talk about Jason?”

“If it comes up…” you sigh. “You know, if he’s mean to me and I cry then you have to deal with it.”

He clasps his long pinky around yours. “Deal. But with how all that just went down, you gotta go tell him to come back. He won’t believe me if I do it.”

“Don’t let him be mean to me,” you plead, tightening your grip on his pinky and locking eyes with him. “Good vibes only.”

“He won’t be mean. Good vibes only.” Namjoon nods with a soft smile. “He really is a good person where it counts, Y/N.”

You push your things aside and force yourself to find Jungkook. He’s leaning against a wall near the entrance, scrolling through his phone while he waits for his order. You quietly request to your waitress that you’d like his food brought to your table. She’s nice enough about it, but your stomach churns regardless. It’s the anxiety.

You gingerly poke a finger against his shoulder as you approach. “Um. Hey.”

He seems startled at first, but smiles when he realizes it’s you. “Hmm?”

You take a deep quiet inhale, trying your best not to get lost in the butterflies his charming smile conjures in your gut. You try to tell yourself it’s anxiety and nothing more. Apologies are hard and scary. That’s all.

“I’m… sorry for being rude. I’ve had a rough week but I shouldn’t take it out on you. Come eat with us, please. Namjoon’s buying anyway.”

His eyes seem to light up with surprise and a warm smile deepens the creases around his eyes and mouth. The hope that these feelings of attraction would evaporate with time is a flame swiftly snuffed out and replaced with a burning heartache that deems denial useless. Even now, pangs of infatuation lurk below your feelings of disdain, breaking the tension of its surface with each beat of your heart.

“It’s okay,” he reassures you. “I shouldn’t have invited myself when I saw you guys. I should really get home and shower anyway.”

He looks so clean that you’d assumed he’d already showered. It’s not like you can smell him from where you stand. Maybe he’s lying, but at least you get the sense it’s coming from a place of politeness.

“Jungkook, I want you to come eat with us. Besides Namjoon wants someone to drink saké with him and I cannot keep doing it.”

“I see.” He offers a small laugh and rubs the back of his neck. “Are you sure? You seemed pretty against it before. What changed?”

“Namjoon told me you’re trying to be less of an asshole to me.”

“Did he?” he licks his lips and tries to hide his pleased smile. “I’m surprised you believe him.”

“He also promised me I could punch you in the dick if you make me cry,” you lie, completely stone-faced.

If he knows that’s a falsified statement, he doesn’t say anything. He looks past your shoulder to quirk a brow at Namjoon, who appears to be furiously texting at the table. Jungkook’s phone buzzes a few times against his palm and he’s fairly sure he already knows who it is.

“Come on. I already asked them to bring your food to the table.”

He reads Namjoon’s messages as he trails behind you.

NAMJOON: If you seriously want to apologize stick around, make her laugh, just listen when you need to

JUNGKOOK: Don’t worry

JUNGKOOK: I got u

Before Namjoon can send a text saying that Jungkook's response has the opposite effect, you’re peeking across the table, trying to get a glance at the screen.

“Who’s that?” you wonder. Namjoon’s not usually one to be so secretive with his texts.

“Hmm?” he raises his eyebrows at you and pours you a shot. “Stupid. Don’t worry about it.”

“Ha. Haha. Ha.” You gesture at your face. “You say to the girl with anxiety.”

Crinkling your nose at the glass he offers, you slide it across to Jungkook as he settles in next to Namjoon. “Here. I’m done drinking that stuff tonight.”

He regards it with a quirked brow. Something about your demeanor really has changed, but looking between you and Namjoon does nothing to answer the question of what that may be.

“Okay, so on reddit this guy was reaching. He’s going on about the symbolism in the red scarf—”

Your eyes gloss over the moment he mentions reddit. Is there anything you care less about than Joon’s favorite modern literary discussion threads?

“Got it. Not worrying about it,” you interrupt, bringing your bowl to your lips to slurp some of the broth.

Jungkook hides his smirk by throwing his head back to drink his shot. Namjoon is a genius. It might be scary if he ever decided to use his intellect for nefarious purposes. Lucky for the universe he uses it to protect others, like a real superhero would.

As the three of you dine together, you’re surprised to find that Jungkook isn’t being as annoying as he usually is. In fact, it seems the more he drinks outside of any competitive setting, the more affable he becomes. Maybe there’s something to Namjoon’s clickbaity words. He’s almost the person you remember meeting before the Halloween Party, maybe even more pleasant.

You’re grateful when the two of them start telling embarrassing stories so you can listen and laugh at the way they slur their words and interrupt each other. Laughter makes your heart feel light and full, and brave enough to take the last step to prove to yourself you’re done chasing Jason. As the two men fight over the last piece of gyoza and distract themselves over dessert, you quietly decide to clear your text messages from Jason. Your finger hovers over the delete icon for a second before purging his contact information from your device entirely.

It’s freeing to not have to worry about what you should send him. It’s frustrating to have tried so hard for so long and have nothing to show for it, but at least there will be no conversation history to pick apart anymore. It should feel perfect. That will definitely show him, right? You don’t have to reflect for more than a couple seconds to reinforce the memory of how little he actually reached out on his own.

He still has your number. The only time he ever called was on your first date. He never texted you unless you spoke first. He probably won’t even notice you’re gone. He’s probably relieved he won’t have to answer you anymore. He probably thinks you’re desperate for trying for so long. You don’t realize how well you wear your anxiety.

When you look up Jungkook is watching you while he chews with his mouth wide open. “Hey, why do-” He hiccups and swallows. “Why do you look so sad? You should have some ice cream.”

He scans the table for something to offer you, but he can’t seem to find what he’s looking for in his drunken stupor. After a few seconds his eyes finally land on his own plate where the other half of his red-bean cake sits.

“Do you want my taiyaki?” He holds the tail end of the fish-shaped cake out to you. “It’s really good!”

You can’t help but laugh at the unexpected sweet absurdity of the night. “Jungkook, I don’t want your half-eaten cake.”

He frowns and looks at the pastry. “Is it because I bit it? I’ll break off that part for you if you don’t want your mouth to touch that.”

Although Jungkook definitely is more drunk than Namjoon right now, the older man can’t help but be amazed by how well this is going. He loads up on green tea ice cream and digs his spoon in it. He shouldn’t have been so worried. Jungkook can put away the act when he wants to, especially once alcohol is involved and there’s nothing to prove. You guys are actually getting along. What a relief.

“No, really it’s okay.” You laugh.

Jungkook is already breaking the pastry apart in his hand, watching as it crumbles to pieces on his plate. He blinks a couple times and closes his mouth in a frown.

“I thought that would work.” He sounds utterly defeated.

The waitress walks over just in time to watch Namjoon stick a heaping spoonful of wasabi in his mouth. You're too busy laughing at Jungkook's forlorn expression to notice the way Namjoon's eyes water. His eyes drop to the ice cream he thought he shoveled into his mouth. Right next to the pristine, untouched scoop of green tea ice cream, he finds his spoon resting in the hunk of wasabi adjacent to it. He should really pay attention more. He pushes against Jungkook's side and motions that he needs to get up. The younger man spares a glance his way but Namjoon waves him off while mumbling something about the bathroom.

The waitress tries to keep her composure and looks between the pair of you. "How is everything?"

"Great! Could you please bring us some water?" you ask in your sweetest voice, realizing the two men with you should at least try to start sobering up.

You expected to have Namjoon crashing on your couch on a Friday night, or at least be dropping him off down the hall at Hobi’s place. Jungkook was not part of the plan, but you can’t exactly let him drive home inebriated. You know he’s not your responsibility but you’d feel guilty making him call for a ride home when you’re perfectly capable.

Although you hate to admit it, you’ve had fun tonight. If you’re being honest with yourself you’d like to see what he’s like without Namjoon nearby to police his moves. He’s been nice enough, but you want to know for sure this isn’t an act. You want to ask him if he’s made another bet, or playing some game since he hasn’t hit on you all night. Before you can get your line of questions in order, Jungkook turns to the server with large, pleading eyes.

"Oh! Can you bring some more dessert, please?"

He may be a grown ass man capable of charming the pants off of women everywhere, but right now he is little more than a child begging for seconds. Regardless of everything he's done, your heart softens, endeared and embarrassed by his drunken request to your server.

The waitress nods. "Sure, what would you like?"

His eyes fall to you for an answer. "What do you like?"

You blink at him. "Me? I thought this was for you."

He nods. "Mm. We can split it."

"Um, how about... tempura?"

"Banana?"

Jungkook’s voice is full of anticipation and his upturned eyebrows seem to bargain for agreement. It’s so hard to believe this is the same man who has been so cold to you for so long when he seems so open and warm now. You remind yourself it’s probably the alcohol. It’s probably some secret promise to Namjoon. Some bet with Hobi. Some game he’s playing. It’s probably anything other than what your dumb crush-stupefied heart wants it to be.

The waitress looks to you for approval and you give a nod. "Sure. Banana tempura."

The waitress awkwardly smiles as she gathers the empty platters and gives you a chance to break away from his endearingly drunken face. He smiles across the table at you and wrings his hands while you pick up your phone to check on those nonexistent messages. Maybe if you distract yourself enough you can ignore the feelings that are catching up to you tonight.

“Thank you for inviting me back over,” he says, reaching to the nearly empty bottle of saké to pour himself another shot. “I’ve... been wanting to talk to you."

"I’m surprised you didn’t blow up my phone.” It’s supposed to be a joke, but there’s a harshness in your tone that exposes a venomous bite beneath it.

He downs the shot and plants his elbows on the table, leaning forward on them. "I wanted to say it to your face."

“Oh, really?”

You don’t allow yourself to entertain the idea that he’s about to say anything groundbreaking, but you look away from your phone to meet those dark, twinkling eyes. Suddenly there’s hope in your gut. You’re desperate to put some distance between the feelings jumping to the surface.

“I’ve been a dick.”

“No shit.”

Though the fog of alcohol consumes his apology, his eyes focus on you with clarity. “I’m sorry.”

How long have you waited to hear those words? You never really thought about what you might say in response. His apology sits in the air between you for a moment before he speaks again.

“I’m really sorry. Namjoon is right. I am trying to be less of an asshole to you. We don’t…” he catches himself, “I don’t have a lot of close friends who are women.”

“You don’t say.”

That seems to cut through the fog. He hangs his head and focuses his gaze on the table.

“I never wanted to hurt your feelings.”

“Well, you did,” you mumble.

“I know... I’m sorry.” It’s like now that he’s said it once, he can’t stop saying it. He’s not sure how to make you understand. Maybe you do understand and you just won’t forgive him. Can he really blame you for that?

“Why?” you question; it’s the last barrier protecting your heart, the only thing keeping you from caving. “Why do you care now?”

Jungkook’s head lolls to one side as he sits back against his seat and stares at the nearly empty bottle of saké. “I don’t know. I guess I was thinking… I wish I had a save to reload. Before I messed up.”

It seems that’s the best you’re going to get out of him right now. The waitress sets down a beautiful platter of banana tempura meticulously arranged around a simple mound of ice cream, topped with a single cherry and drizzled with decorative chocolate. She places three waters on the table and you both take a moment to politely force smiles and pause your conversation.

He licks his lips and stares down at the plate and then back up at you. “Can we start over?”

“Depends. Are you gonna go back to being a dick when you’re not drunk anymore?”

“No, no. I mean it. I wanna try to be friends.”

“For real?” You swipe the cherry, pop it in your mouth and tilt your head to regard him. You can’t let yourself fully believe him. You want to. The earnestness in his drunken features charms you, but you hold onto a shred of disbelief as a crutch. You’ll wait for the moment he reverts. Hopefully this time you’ll be prepared for the whiplash that comes along with it.

“For real.”

You reflect on his apology as the pair of you dig into the dessert. “Maybe. Prove it.”

He perks up. He’ll take a maybe. Maybe means the damage he’s done might not be irreparable. The guilt weighing on his conscience feels lighter. It’s a start.

“I will. I’ll find some way to make it up to you.”

You roll your eyes, unwilling to put stock in his words. “Is this another bet with Hobi? About how quickly you can make me forgive you?”

Jungkook shakes his head furiously, wisps of wild black hair whipping his cheeks. “No, I mean it. I promise.”

You drag your lip through your teeth as you teeter on the line of acceptance. “What is a promise from a liar worth?”

He drops the flat of his palm to the table and he pouts. “Hey. I mean it…. Hm. If I break my promise…” His eyes scan the table for anything he can use to change your mind. He looks at his arm pressed against the table and then back at you. “You can choose my next tattoo.”

Your eyebrows rise into your hairline. “Really.”

He eagerly nods. “I’ll get whatever you want wherever you want. Just. Not my face.”

“I want that in writing,” you snort.

Jungkook glances around the table and pulls a napkin from under the plate of tempura. “Do you have a pen?”

“Jungkook, you don’t have to—”

“I’m serious.” He’s not taking no for an answer.

You shake your head and rummage through your purse to supply him with a pen. He smooths out the napkin he’s chosen to use as a conduit for his promise. When he’s finished writing he slides it towards you.

Princess

I’m sorry. I can make it right.

I promise. Please give me another chance.

If I blow it you can choose what & where my next tattoo goes.

As long as it’s not my face. Let’s be friends? #promise.com ♡ Jungkook

Of course he signed it with a heart. Despite his inebriation, his handwriting is still neat. Well, that’s one hell of a promise.

“Okay.” You fold the note and drop it into your purse. “We can try.”

His face lights up as he stuffs a piece of tempura into his mouth, happily chomping with his mouth wide open. He reaches for the saké but you slide a water in front of him instead.

“Friends don’t let friends get totally shitfaced at Hajime.”

He frowns at you but seems to accept your answer with a pout.

“Speaking of which… Where is Namjoon?” You crane your neck to look around the restaurant.

“Friday noodle nights common for you guys?” Jungkook asks, digging into the dessert between massive gulps of water.

“No, not really. We’re usually watching movies at my place or hanging with Hobi. But Namjoon wanted to take me out because I was sad,” you say, finally catching sight of your friend on the other side of the bar.

Jungkook’s chewing slows and he regards you with furrowed brows. “Sad?”

Before you can decide how you want to answer, Namjoon is scooting into the booth next to Jungkook and reaching for a piece of tempura. “Mmmm. What did I miss?”

“Y/N was telling me why she’s sad.”

Namjoon nods like he understands exactly what you’ve been talking about. “He’s a dick, right? Like how do you even stand someone up, not once, but twice? Makes no sense.”

“Joonie—”

“And I know what you’re gonna say, but I disagree. It has nothing to do with you or how you look, Y/N. You don’t need to workout like a maniac to try to change anything. Especially not for someone like Jason. I can’t even imagine—”

“Joon.” You click your tongue and slide a glass of water in front of him. “Please, shut the fuck up.”

As you glare at him, he looks at you with raised brows and wide eyes. Unsure what to do now that he’s obviously fubared the conversation, he casts his guilty gaze to his cup and brings it to his lips.

Jungkook stares at you with furrowed brows, trying to wait to let you fill in the blanks even though he’s itching to ask about everything. He picks another piece of tempura and stuffs it into his mouth, but when you remain silent the impulse to pry takes over. “Jason?”

“He stood me up…” you start, but you close your mouth when you realize you’re going to try to defend him. Your throat feels full, like you can’t get enough air through with a giant knot in it like this. You have to whisper so your voice doesn’t crack. “Twice.”

The couple drinking at the table nearby becomes a much more interesting place to rest your eyes than the two men across from you. Tightening your jaw doesn’t prevent the gloss from coating your eyes. Thinking about it makes you feel so stupid and desperate. Bending over backwards a thousand different ways to accommodate him couldn’t convince him to put in even a minimal amount of effort one time.

Jungkook’s eyebrows shoot up in genuine surprise. “Twice?”

The hurt you feel in your chest scorches your cheeks until anger is filling your head like a teakettle ready to release an unhealthy amount of steam right in Jungkook’s face.

“That’s what I get for giving people second chances,” you snap as you focus back on him.

Joon says your name like it’s a warning but you don’t need it. You feel guilty enough for projecting your anger onto Jungkook with a petty one-liner.

“Sorry. It’s not your fault. I just…” Your throat closes around the rest of the words.

Before an uncomfortable silence can settle over the table, Namjoon inches the bottle of saké with his fingertips until it’s in front of him. “Dating is tricky. Jason sucks. It sucks that he hurt you. But you don’t have to twist yourself into whatever you think he wants anymore. And that…” He pours the pitiful remainder of alcohol into a shot glass and slides it towards you.“...is worth celebrating.”

Jungkook silently nods his head in agreement. It’s obvious you’re on the verge of tears and he doesn’t want to be the thing that pushes you over the edge.

A soft smile curls the corners of your mouth. “That’s true, but…” you slide the glass back towards him and steal the last of the banana tempura. “I can celebrate back at my apartment. Finish your water so you’ll be awake enough to join me. Both of you.”

Jungkook perks up and happily reaches for his water while Namjoon gives you a proud, yet confused look. It seems like a new start to something. What that is remains to be seen.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Jungkook watches intently as the colors of the city shine through the windows. He runs his fingers over the soft blanket you keep in the backseat, mouthing the words to the song softly playing from your dashboard. Namjoon has been talking nonstop from the passenger seat, which is fine with Jungkook since he’s feeling a little tired. The last session of the day was a bit more intense than intended, but the client left happy and covered in sweat. A success. But Jungkook is sore and exhausted. Physically and socially.

A sense of relief floods him at the memory of his conversation with you. Things may actually be okay from here. Who would have thought crashing your noodle night with Namjoon could have yielded such results?

His head bobs to the music as his eyes wander across the scenery outside until he grows bored and they drift to the interior of your car. A graduation tassel swings from your rearview mirror as you turn. He follows the movement of the tassel when it swings towards you and his eyes land on your face, or at least what he can see of it from this angle.

You look focused and calm while conversing with Namjoon but your posture is a bit rigid and your hands remain planted on the steering wheel in complete control. There’s something about this candid snapshot of your persona that puts him at ease. Your voice is a soft contrast to Namjoon’s, but equally enthusiastic.

He tilts his head as he leans back in his seat, pulling the blanket over his lap and twisting the fabric around his palm. Your eyes flicker in the rearview mirror, catching his. He gives a tiny wave and rests his head against the cushion, fighting the temptation to close his eyelids for longer than a second. The more he listens to you laugh, the more he finds himself smiling. It’s goofy.

It’s also kind of cute.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Jungkook is surprised when Yoongi answers your knock; he thought he would be asleep. He’s even more surprised when you make yourself at home on his couch and guilt him with a puppy dog pout to make you a drink, and he complies. When Jungkook asks the same, Yoongi tells him there’s beer in the fridge while measuring out the ingredients for your cocktail. The suspicious sour ache of jealousy stabs his gut as he moseys to the fridge but he quickly shakes it off, settling on the floor in front of the tv with a beer in hand.

After a couple hours of drinking, laughing, and playing Jackbox games with the three men, you’re feeling much better about everything. Life is good. Friends are good. Alcohol is very good.

It doesn’t take much to get you drunk. You’re about as much of a lightweight as Hobi and for better or worse everyone has come to know that fact. What’s nice about drinking in Yoongi’s apartment is that you don’t have to walk very far to get home. Things don’t get awkward with the three of them together; it’s actually kind of nice, like a mini Saturday night pregame.

Soon Namjoon and Yoongi are snoring on the couch with a movie playing in the background while you stand in the kitchen with Jungkook. He pours another drink for himself, though he knows it will mostly likely remain unfinished. Tomorrow may bring a massive hangover, but tonight has been surprisingly pleasant. He feels like he’s finally on okay footing with you, maybe even on the road to serious repair. Amazing how well you get along when inhibitions are replaced by inebriation. If that’s what it takes, he’s determined to keep it up.

As he turns his back to place the liquor bottle in the cabinet by the fridge, you swipe a sip of the drink he’s concocted. He spins around in time to see you wrinkle your nose and stick your tongue out.

“Hey, that’s mine!” he pouts.

“Blegh. You can have it. Yuck!” Your face screws up again at the aftertaste.

He drunkenly giggles as he slides the drink closer to him. “What, don’t like sour?”

“Too sour!” You reach for the water bottle Yoongi gave you hours ago and attempt to rinse the puckering sensation from your mouth.

Amused, he tilts his head and watches you take gulp after gulp. He purses his lips and holds back the comment itching to escape, deciding to enjoy a sip of his drink instead. You shimmy out of your hoodie and tie it around your waist and his eyes lazily follow the motion of your arms, noting a slight difference in their musculature. Some errant thought about their shape leads him back to an earlier unaddressed comment that he’s finally comfortable enough to prod you about.

“What kind of workouts are you doing?” he blurts.

Suddenly you feel very exposed. You straighten in your seat and suck in your gut, hyper aware of every imperfection of your body on display to someone so in shape. You immediately begin to fidget with the sleeves of the hoodie you just tied around your waist.

“You don’t have to tell me. I just—” he pauses, exhaling a small breath and looking down at his drink as though he’s wary of continuing the thought.

“No, no it’s fine,” you assure him, too curious to say otherwise. “What is it?”

“When Namjoon said…” he sighs and takes a sip, smacking his lips and licking them before looking back to you. “I thought maybe I can prove myself to you by helping you come up with a plan.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You plant an elbow on the counter and lean on it.

“I want to,” he insists, reaching out for your arm.

His hand is like fire engulfing your skin and your eyelids flutter at the sensation. Instinctively you place a hand over his and rub your thumb anxiously over it. He looks down to where your thumb grazes his knuckles and then back up to your face with a surprised smile.

“Um… Everything,” you say, trying to sound as vague and nonchalant as possible so he doesn’t judge you for your lack of knowledge.

“Like, full body?”

“Uh...” You’ve managed to make a habit of going to his gym a few days a week while successfully avoiding him, but it seems that time is coming to an end. “I… machine.”

“Oh. Like at a gym? Did you join one?” He seems genuinely curious.

“Um, yeah.” Suddenly you pull your hand back when you realize the speed at which your thumb is moving.

“Which one?”

The more you say, the more suspicious you seem, but is saying less any better? Jungkook rests his elbow on the counter and simply looks at you but you don’t look back. A slow smile spreads his lips as the possibility dawns on him.

“Princess… Did you join Iron Kingdom?”

You puff your cheeks and force the air through the tiny opening of your mouth. You don’t offer any sort of confirmation and continue to avoid his gaze.

“And you didn’t tell me?” he playfully prods, drumming his fingers against your forearm.

“I… Yeah,” you admit, your voice small as you stare at the counter. “I didn’t want you to know.

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because?”

“I don’t want to give you another thing to make fun of me for.”

“I’m not gonna make fun of you.” When you don’t respond he tugs on your arm. The motion is enough to angle you towards him. “Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey.”

“What?” you grumble, staring at your lap even as you face him.

He takes your hands in his and drunkenly waves them around. “Heeeeeeeey. Look at me.”

He pouts until you reluctantly drag your eyes to meet his. “What?”

“Everyone starts somewhere,” he says softly. “Even me.”

The shift in his demeanor catches you off guard and you subconsciously lean forward as you relax. “Well I started with Hwasa, but I was too sore to ask for another session with her.”

He nods sympathetically, clapping his hand over yours. “You should try again.”

You shake your head. “I don’t know. I feel like…”

“Like?” he prods when you let the silence trail for a bit too long.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you sigh. “I feel like I don’t belong there. I look so stupid reading the instructions on the machines. I don’t even think I’m doing it right.”

“What?” He makes a sound between a laugh and a grunt. “There’s nothing wrong with making sure you don’t hurt yourself. Nobody knows how to instantly do things. If they tell you they do, they’re lying.”

“Or they’re Namjoon,” you say with a roll of your eyes, glancing over at your snoring friend.

He smiles and clicks his tongue against his teeth in thought. “I didn’t know what I was doing when I started.”

“Really.”

You’re skeptical. It’s always seemed like he was born in a gym. Or maybe hatched. He’s kind of inhumanly gorgeous. Maybe he sprouted from a flower like a mythical god.

“For real. First time doing squats. I think it was gym class? Yeah, I was like twelve or thirteen. I was… not very athletic. Didn’t play sports or anything. Kind of shy. Didn’t really have a lot of friends either…”

The way he trails off makes your heart hurt. Puberty isn’t nice to most people. It’s hard to imagine a world where someone like Jungkook isn’t instantly popular and naturally fit. While you’re not exactly the same person you were at twelve, a lot of your interests and personality quirks have remained the same. You’re still painfully awkward at times. How did he manage to overcome something like that? Is it not ingrained in him like it is you?

“Just a big dork, you know?” He laughs. “I see this girl I had a crush on, Amber. She’s looking at me. I think I have to impress her. So I’m stacking up weight and I think I’m hot shit and go too fast. Know what happened?”

“Please don’t tell me you dropped it on your foot or something,” you plead, squeezing his palms at the way he’s building up the story. The secondhand embarrassment is too real.

“I hear a pop.”

“No!” you gasp, bringing your hands to your face as if you can stop the past from happening.

“And pain. So much pain. I don’t remember putting the weights down but I remember ending up on my back, staring up at the ceiling.”

“Oh no. Knees?”

“Worse.” He points down to his crotch. “Pulled a muscle in my groin. Had to sit the rest of the day with an ice pack on my junk. Was not fun. My point is: don’t give up. You learn more as you go. Give Hwasa another shot.”

His anecdote gives you pause but you’re desperate to cling to the comfort of your anxiety. “My free trial with her is almost up and I don’t think I’ll be able to afford to keep at it.”

“More excuses,” he teases, taking a sip of his drink. “At this point I should just—” His eyes widen, a lightbulb practically forming above his head as he puts his cup down. “I’ll be your personal trainer!”

“Uhh…”

“No, no. It’s perfect. We’re friends now.” He smiles, proud of himself for finding a way to prove himself to you. “I can teach you everything you need to know about working out. I can set up a plan for you and figure out the best way to help you achieve your goals. Oh, man we’re gonna have to figure out your goals. What do you—”

“Hold on. Hold on,” you interrupt with a nervous laugh. “You’re missing the part where I still can’t afford it.”

He rolls his eyes and grabs your glass, holding it under the sink to refill it. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll cover it.”

You’re stunned into silence as you observe the expanse of his back, searching the black fabric of his t-shirt for the definition of his muscles. He sets the cup in front of you, waiting for your agreement. When it doesn’t come, he second guesses himself. Did he overstep?

“I mean if you’re okay with that. Would-would you want to do that?”

The innocent drunken sparkle in his eyes makes your stomach do a flip. When you woke up this morning you hardly thought the day would include getting sloshed with Jungkook and having him offer to take you on as a fitness trainee. It’s like he’s opened himself up just enough for you to see the soft mess beneath. You like it. You like it a lot and you kind of hate yourself for it. While you don’t know if you can trust him past the evening, you find yourself hoping you can.

“You won’t make fun of me?” you ask timidly before bringing the cup of water to your lips.

“It’s my job not to make fun of you. We start where you’re at and go from there. And like I said, I’ll cover the fees for as long as you want. No pressure.” He smiles at you. “What do you think?”

“...Okay,” you murmur with a nod of your head. “If you’re serious, then I’m… I’m in!”

His lips part to expose his teeth as his grin spreads. “Yes!”

As he brings his hand up in a sign of victory, his knuckles knock against his glass. You reach for the cup with impaired reflexes, hands fumbling over the slippery surface in conjunction with his. The sour contents spill across the counter as the pair of you struggle to right the glass. While he’s quicker at getting the glass upright, your brain is faster at processing what to do next and you already have a paper towel in hand, wiping up the liquid as fast as possible.

Your eyes follow the spill to the edge of the counter where it’s flooded over the side. Acting on instinct rather than rational thought, you quickly press down where the liquid has begun to pool in his lap. As you fold the paper towel over, you rub frantically as if the action will keep the stain from setting into the fabric. He shifts in his seat and squeaks out a sound so small that you can’t actually tell whether it came from him or the chair.

It only dawns on you how inappropriate your actions are when you glance towards his face and find his wide eyes gazing back at you. His cheeks, already flushed from inebriation, seem twice as vivid and his mouth is parted slightly as though he means to speak, but he doesn’t. Maybe he doesn’t want to embarrass you, but it’s too late for that.

Your palm stills against his crotch as the shape beneath becomes clear in your mind. For a second you’re frozen, but your lips work quickly to mumble an apology. It feels like an eternity before you will your drunken fingers to release the paper towel. The clearing of Jungkook’s throat is followed by a tiny giggle, then a full on snort. A grin spreads across your lips and you soon follow him into a fit of laughter. You thank the universe for the small mercy of being drunk enough to push your embarrassment to the side for the time being.

“I wasn’t thinking!” you wheeze, tears in your eyes from laughing so hard. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’ll dry.” He laughs, dabbing his pants and shirt in the absence of your hand. As he stands he pulls the hem of his shirt away from his torso and looks down at it. “Really. It’s my fault I’m so…”

“Sticky?” You quirk an eyebrow at him, a blatant flirtatious action thinly disguised as a joke as you eye the blot of liquor staining the lower half of his shirt.

Both of his eyebrows raise and a mischievous smile curls the corner of his lips. “...Wet.”

You consider his answer with a pleased hum and turn back to the counter to polish off the last of your water. You’re friends now, right? It can’t be that easy. But it kind of is. So what’s wrong with a little harmless flirting between friends?

Drunk brain, who happens to be a notorious hoe, assures you it’s great. Rational brain might disagree, but she’s taking a well-deserved nap. You’ve at least had a good night. You’re not sure it matters at this point who is giving you the attention you crave. It feels good. So good, in fact, you’re sure you can indulge drunk brain a little more.

You’re drawn to the inky shapes swirling around Jungkook’s bicep as he wipes the counter down. Every time your eyes begin to focus on an object marking his skin with some kind of meaning, he moves and you lose it. It’s brush strokes, isn’t it? You’ve definitely seen a paintbrush and mountains and a knife surrounded by roses. A swathe of grey and purple connects to each one you’ve seen, but you know there are more.

Before you can blurt that you’re dying to know how many he has and how bad it hurt to get them, he turns toward the sink and begins to work his t-shirt up his torso. You watch in awe as the toned muscles of his back are exposed. The image of the bright phoenix does little to hide their definition.

Trying to will yourself to look away is of no use; he’s hot and you’re drunk enough to acknowledge that fact. Of course he peeks at you just as the shirt slips over his head to find you open-mouthed and dazed, ogling him as though there isn’t any shame in the world that could pull your gaze from him. He turns to the fridge to give you a moment to compose yourself, nabbing a water bottle from the shelf in the process. You’re clearly not ready for the way he quickly spins on the balls of his feet to face you.

Y/N.exe has stopped working.

Your fingers hang in the air suspiciously until you lazily drop them. But Jungkook dons a toothy grin and has the audacity to look shy. He mockingly shields his chest from you with the shirt clutched in his hands.

“Princess! Are you… checking me out?”

Somehow you don’t let the fire in your face turn your brain to ash.“Pfft, no.”

“What’re you doing, then?” he teases with a laugh as he sits, scooting his chair closer to yours.

“Counting,” you reply simply, brow furrowed in concentration. To drive the point home, you poke at his flesh everywhere you can make out an object drawn into its surface.

“How many?” he wonders, watching with cloudy, amused eyes.

“Mmm…” You trail your finger down his arm and back up, following the curve of the brushstroke around his shoulder. “Can’t tell if this counts as one.”

He shrugs and rests his head on his palm as he leans against the counter. “What do you think?”

You hesitate when he quickly quirks a brow.

“I think… A lot.”

“Definitely accurate,” he says with a grin.

Awkward laughter steers the pair of you towards your waters. The TV in the background provides enough noise to steal your focus; you’re grateful for the distraction from the attractive man beside you. Drunk brain is telling you to touch him again, to grab his hand, to feel the touch of someone just for the night, to ruin every good thing this night has started to rebuild between you. Anything to stave off the emptiness of your bed, the 2AM thoughts of failure, and the drunken desperation to find someone, anyone, who will fall in love with whatever image you happen to project on your dating profile.

Heart pounding wildly in your chest and blood rushing through your ears, your fingertips tap against the countertop as they inch closer to where his arm rests. Luckily your futile attempts at nonchalance go unnoticed. Jungkook anxiously turns his water bottle over in his hands, trying to gather words in his brain before freeing them from his mouth.

“So…” he begins.

You jump at the sudden sound and retract your hand while he’s not paying you any mind.

“I was thinking. About that guy…”

You wish you could at least pretend you don’t know who he’s talking about. You’ve vented plenty tonight, but still your heart sinks. Deleting Jason’s digital footprint from your life was simple and quick, but the feelings of rejection and disappointment that swirl in the back of your mind spill forward the longer his pause continues.

“I know this probably means nothing coming from me. But I just— I know you liked him, but you can do better.“

Your posture stiffens at his reassurance and you find yourself grateful he’s not looking at you. Do you deserve better?

“You deserve better,” he affirms, as if somehow aware of your internal struggle.

“Thanks,” you murmur with a distinct lack of enthusiasm as you stare down your glass.

It's cry hours, isn’t it?

Realizing you don’t believe him, he takes a deep breath and nudges you with his elbow. “Hey.”

“What.” You refuse to look up because you know you’re on the verge of an irrational stream of tears over some guy you hardly knew. It’s stupid and you know it. But the wet warmth coating your eyes tells you it’s coming regardless.

“I’m... sorry that you don’t feel like you do. Some people can’t get over the weight of their own shit. But that doesn’t mean it’s on you to pick it up for them. If they can’t even bother to carry themselves to meet you halfway, then they’re not worth the effort.”

It’s a perfect time for your heart to seize up and it takes the opportunity to do so. The advice he offers doesn’t stave off the tears, but it resonates deep within you. Namjoon said something similar. It makes you ache to hear it again from someone else. It just leads you back to the same questions you keep asking yourself. What’s so wrong with you that people don’t even want to try? Is it your personality? Physicality? Is it a lack of confidence? What is it?

‘I can’t even get a shitty guy to like me. Maybe I’m the one not worth the effort.’ You don’t dare say those words out loud. Pity isn’t something you’re looking for. A warm body to fill your bed maybe, but not pity.

“Sounds easy when you say it like that,” you murmur, trying in vain to will the tears not to fall. You’re quick to swipe at them and force a smile. “I guess I have trouble giving up on people. It’s not that I’m naive. I try to be realistic. But no matter how many times I get fucked over I just... hope for the best in people. I can’t help it.”

He pats your arm reassuringly. “That’s why you deserve better.”

If only it was as simple as hearing those words and magically being able to believe it. A big chunk of your confidence has crumbled away and there’s no clear path to restoration. As the warmth of his palm comes to rest against your arm, you place your hand over his and squeeze.

“I don’t know if I believe it,” you pause and thoughtfully add, “but thanks for saying it.”

His eyebrows raise in surprise and he offers a tiny, “You’re welcome.”

A shaky chuckle passes your lips. All of his features seem to soften the more you look at them. Maybe it’s the drunken gloss coating his big brown eyes or the way his lips slightly part as he looks back at you. The tightly coiled nerves in your belly urge you to unravel.

Although it's a subtle gesture, he licks his lips as he smiles and it practically seals your fate. If you don't leave now you're bound to do something you'll regret.

"It's late. I should sleep."

Or masturbate.

The speed at which you launch yourself from the seat is unpleasant. You're not sure what's worse: the dizzying vertigo or waves nausea sloshing in your gut. Jungkook's reflexes may be delayed but he's a steady mass of muscle the moment you reach out to steady yourself.

"Whoa. You okay?"

"Maybe," you mumble, finding yourself drawn to the heat radiating from his skin. Instead of walking away, slump down to rest your cheek against his shoulder and sling an arm around him. You might be drunker than you thought. "I don't know."

"Hmm. What do you need, princess?"

"Just wanna stop spinning."

His stance shifts to better accommodate the additional weight you press against him.

"How about you take over Yoongi's bed tonight," he suggests softly. "He's passed out anyway."

"No, I should go home." You peel your cheek from the warmth of his skin.

“You gonna make it there?”

“Yes,” you say indignantly. The world may be a bit wobbly right now, but you’re certain you can handle the short stroll down the hall.

"Okay.” He smiles, loosening his hold. As you step back your foot catches on the leg of the chair and it drags loudly against the floor.

Despite Jungkook’s attempt to keep you standing by grabbing at your arms, he loses his balance and he drops to his knees. The chair clatters to the floor before your ass does. Luckily his grip keeps your back and head far from impact, but you’re too cramped to be comfortable.

“Are you okay?” he asks. Those big, dark doe eyes of his are frozen in fear and a frown adorns his face. He looks so serious it’s ridiculous.

You can’t help but laugh, wiggling backwards to make space between his body and the heat steadily building between your legs. “I’m fine. Stop making that face.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” He sits back on his feet and tilts his head to the side in confusion.

He breaks into a fit of giggles when you dramatically mimic his expression. You roll back onto your elbows, making another ridiculous face to further mock him.

“No, no. It’s more like…” Jungkook takes the opportunity to lean over you, reaching with one hand to squeeze your cheeks to pucker your lips. You blow a disjointed raspberry at him before pulling his hand off to the side.

While the clamor of the fallen chair did nothing to rouse the men on the couch, the sound of Jungkook’s hearty laughter is loud enough to disturb the rhythmic snores of Namjoon.

Jungkook sits back on his heels and peeks over the countertop. He seems miles away, even as you sit up and scoot in to bring yourself closer. Laughter fades into a quiet hum as Namjoon’s snoring resumes.

You're lost in the abyss of his gaze as he turns his head to look back at you. All that remains in your brain at this point is a foggy desire to tug on the silky spirals of his ebony hair until he presses himself against you one more time.

Your hand settles for following the curves of his bicep instead, wondering how it might feel to be wrapped within his embrace. Some might say liquor makes you bold and stupid, and they're right. They should say it. But it also makes you feel invincible, like a goddamn glowing Mario star power-up.

"Princess?"

Enraptured, his eyes follow the motion of your hand as it slithers around his arm and squeezes. Unable to ignore the prompt, he answers with a flex against your palm. His ego swells when you shiver and noticeably hold your breath.

You know it's a mistake. You know it goes against all of your sober judgement, but you find yourself doing it anyway. It doesn't matter that you still harbor a grudge that holds your heart hostage. Drunk hoe vibes are taking the wheel. You’re tired, drunk as hell, and just want to feel wanted. And he's here.

Every fiber of your inebriated being is singing in unison: Why the fuck not?

Heartbeat pounding against your eardrums, you attempt to gauge his reaction as you lean towards him. It's hard to tell from beneath half-lidded eyes, but you think he's leaning towards you too. If he isn't you suppose you can always play it off like you're just a mess. It's not far from the truth. Focusing on the tiny freckle below his lip, you allow yourself to finally close your eyes and go for it.

But the universe isn’t here for your dumb boozy bitch mistakes.

The front door swings open with the sound of jingling keys dropping to the floor. It snaps you back to reality and you freeze, realizing there's no defense that will save you. Jungkook is quick to disengage, poking his head above the counter to acknowledge Hoseok’s presence with a wave. But his friend is completely enamored with the company he’s ushering towards his bedroom.

“Yeah, baby? How bad?” Hoseok whispers to the giggling girl wrapped around his arm.

He pins the stranger against the door to drag his tongue across her neck. Their bodies move rhythmically in a slow grind, a precursor for what’s likely to come. Jungkook purses his lips. How long until one of them notices him watching? It’s not until the girl moans Hoseok’s name softly that Jungkook spares a panicked look towards you.

Oh shit.

You gesture for him to get down before he draws their attention. The last thing you want to explain is why you’re on your knees in Hoseok’s kitchen with a very shirtless Jungkook standing close by. He obliges your silent request, squatting down beside you.

“Feel how hard you made me?” Hobi chuckles quietly.

The girl giggles, her voice growing closer. “You gonna fuck me right here or what?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Naughty girl. What if my roommate wakes up? Looks like he has a friend over too. You really want them to see what a dirty slut you are?”

You can hear her giggle as he directs her where to go, failing to keep his voice down so you hear every filthy thing he says after. Your hands fly to cover your mouth. Is your skin made of lava? You want to blame it on the close proximity to Jungkook, but the only thing you can imagine is Hoseok’s dick and the eager mystery woman about to be impaled by it. Can you scrub your brain of this memory? How are you supposed to look at him after this?

Jungkook watches your face carefully, trying his hardest not to laugh. Your eyes look so big he’s pretty sure they could roll out of your skull any second. Are you really so innocent? The way you cover your mouth says you are, but maybe it’s just the shock. Maybe you’re just trying to not laugh. Or scream. Or breathe? It kind of looks like you might pass out.

Are you gonna make it, princess? he wonders.

Once you hear Hoseok's bedroom door close, you fuss your hands over your hair and scramble to your feet, releasing a big exhale. The hushed words fall from your lips while you scurry away like a timid mouse. "I should go."

Despite being too far to make contact, he reaches out as you round the counter. "Wait—"

As soon as the word leaves his mouth he struggles to come up with the rest of his statement. There’s no reason to keep you here, except to maybe laugh a little about what just happened to smooth over any second-hand embarrassment. So why doesn’t he want you to go?

He swallows down the blank space caught in his throat and searches every last crevice of his brain for something of import to say. Guilt weighs his gut down, though there isn’t a clear cause. He’s probably screwed something up again without realizing it.

“Thanks for giving me another shot,” he says softly.

You breathe a sigh of relief and offer a tiny smile as you half turn, your hand already on the door handle. “Don’t blow it.”

He nods with a smile. “I won’t. Goodnight.”

“‘Night,” you mumble.

As soon as the door is closed you practically sprint down the hall to lock yourself within your apartment. Maybe it will also lock out all the mistakes your brain has made tonight.

The world feels colder now that you’re not pressed against the human-shaped heater that is Jeon Jungkook. Thinking about him makes your heart swell and ache at the same time. Regardless of how badly you wish you'd asked him to bed, you know loneliness is fleeting and guilt would be a far worse feeling to be saddled with.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Jungkook picks up the fallen chair, finding your soft, worn hoodie draped over it. Rubbing a thumb over the material, he considers running it back to you, but he can't remember which door is yours. It's not like he's been here often enough to know. Instead he slips his arms through the sleeves before flipping the hood over his head.

He settles on the floor in the space he previously claimed for the night, pulling a blanket out from under Yoongi's ass. Yoongi rolls his head up, a scowl on his features though his eyes remain closed. He grumbles but lies down, facing the couch.

Jungkook regards his friend for a moment before deciding to drape the blanket over him instead of claiming it for himself. Jungkook rolls onto his side and fluffs the throw pillow under his head. As he watches the credits roll on the TV, he nuzzles into your sweater.

He closes his eyes, thinking of you. He knows he shouldn't linger on the little occurrences of the night, especially with how foggy his brain is. He can't trust anything about his memory.

Still he thinks of the way your fingers trailed along his arm and curled tightly around his bicep. He lets himself dwell on the tiny sound you made, the involuntary tremble of your body, and the subsequent hitch in your breath.

He smiles and inhales the subtle scent you've left behind. A new spark of adrenaline fans flames that inflate his ego, spreading warmth from his stomach up into his chest. The world may wobble around him right now, but the little magical warmth within his gut helps him comfortably drift off to dreamland like he's the world's most immovable object.

#smutcentralnet #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #bts fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook x you #bts fluff #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic

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gwynrielendgame · 3 years

Text

Gwynriel’s first fight

I was inspired to write this piece from a post by @himadrij so I hope you enjoy!

"You two have to start talking." Cassian groaned in frustration.

"I do not know what you are talking about. We are talking." Gwyn stubbornly crossed her arms after pushing her plate away. Azriel sat quietly at the opposite end of the table.

"Do not play ignorant." Nesta rolled her eyes. "You need to start talking to each other. About whatever is upsetting you." Nesta switched between the mates with a hard glare- one that would normally have the receiver cowering.

"I am not upset. Anything you would like to share Gwyneth?" Azriel lifted his eyebrows while staring her down. His cool demeanor over the situation infuriated the priestess. She was in knots over the situation meanwhile he was as cool as a cucumber. His shadows normally gave away how he truly was feeling, but they were nowhere to be seen. It was as if he was hiding them to punish her and it was working.

"Nope." She popped the P as she said it. If he wanted to be stubborn, well then she could play that game as well.

"What did you do to piss her off, Az?" Cassian turned to the Shadowsinger with a smirk. Gwyn felt smug that Cassian assumed it must have been something Az did to piss off Gwyn and not the other way around. Az simply rolled his eyes. If he was not going to answer, she might as well do it for him.

"Azriel agreed to go on his fourth dangerous mission of the month even though he knows my birthday is coming up." Gwyn's tone was pleasant even though she was feeling anything but. Cassian cringed as Gwyn spoke while Nesta sent Az a glare. The red head had not even told her best friend for the reason of the fight until this moment.

"And as I have told Gwyneth, this is my job. Rhys asking is simply a formality. It is not a choice." Azriel did not spare a glance to his mate. He kept his eyes on Cassian as he spoke.

"And as I told Azriel, Rhysand would allow him to skip one mission for my birthday."

"Skipping one mission could put this court, and therefore my mate in danger."

"He could send one of his other spies. He has so many at his disposal that I am sure there is one competent enough."

"My other spies are busy doing other jobs."

Cassian and Nesta's heads moved back and forth as they watched the verbal sparring that was occurring at the dining table. Gwyn was never one to back down from a fight and she would not start now. Azriel was being unreasonable as he normally was when it comes to his work.

"Well I am certain one of them could make time if you asked." A hard glare was set on the pretty females face. She did not want her mate to see how hurtful his decision was.

She never wanted him to feel as though he had to choose between his job and her, but she also never thought that he would choose his job every time. The truth was that Gwyn missed him. She hardly ever saw him anymore, and could not help but feel like he was doing this specifically to be away from her. Azriel decided not to respond. He turned back to his plate and roughly speared a piece of chicken. Cassian seemed apprehensive to say anything for fear of making it worse. Gwyn watched as a silent conversation occurred between Nesta and Cassian before the latter spoke up.

"Birthdays are important Az," he started off slowly. "Perhaps, you can ask Rhysand to delay the mission until after." Gwyn started to perk up at that. It was not a half bad idea- a promising compromise, she thought. Her hope was fading by Azriel's continued silence.

"Or we could celebrate early?" She decided to extend an olive branch. She remembered Nesta mentioning that relationships were all about compromise. She could certainly try if Azriel was willing. However, his stubbornness seemed to win out.

"Gwyn," he finally turned to look at her to plead with her. "This is for your own safety- for the entire court's safety. I do not have time to focus on silly birthday parties. I need to do my research and then leave as soon as possible. We can celebrate when I get back. I just do not have the time right now." Gwyn was so frustrated she groaned. She could tell Nesta and Cassian wanted to be anywhere other than here, and she could not blame them.

"You never have time for me anymore. It is like you do not even enjoy my company." It was not entirely true, but it was how Gwyn had been feeling as of recently. He was consumed with his work. She understood that there were parts of his job that she could never know about, but it was starting to feel like that was every part now.

"I couldn't possibly imagine why when we have such pleasant conversations as these!" He shouted in frustration. The sarcasm was dripping from his words so heavily that they stung much deeper than any of their previous bickering. Azriel's shadows finally let loose as he pulled at strands of his hair. They were waving about more chaotically than Gwyn had ever seen before. One reached out to her and she quickly pulled away. She did not want to be comforted by him or his shadows right now. Gwyn looked down at her plate- she could not stand to look at him currently. All of her insecurities began to attack her.

"Gwyn," he began. Remorse coating every word. "I am so sorry. I did not mean that. I was speaking out of anger, it is not true. I would spend every second of every day with you if I could." She heard as he pushed his chair back. She knew he was going to come over to her, but that is not what she needed right now. She needed space. She quickly got up as well.

"Sorry to have ruined your dinner." She looked at Cassian and Nesta as she said it, but the words were meant for Azriel as well. Nesta's face was as soft as she had ever seen it. Cassian had the same look on his face.

"Gwyn," Azriel tried again as he continued to move towards his mate. Gwyn did not want him though. Not while she was feeling so vulnerable.

"I will speak to you later." Was all she could manage before she fled to her room. Nesta had given her a room in the House of Wind which Gwyn would be forever grateful for- even if she mainly stayed in Azriel’s room nowadays. However, she felt more overwhelmed here than she ever did in the library.

"Fuck." Was his only thought as he plopped back down in his chair and pulled at his hair. He truly did not need this added stress.

"You will make this up to her." Nesta snapped like the viper she was. "You will make it up to her, and then you will be here to celebrate her birthday." Her glares were enough to unnerve Azriel.

She departed just as quickly as his mate. He groaned once more. For as long as he lived he would remember that look on Gwyn's face. He had not meant what he said. His anxiety had reached new levels lately with all new nightmares plaguing him at night. Nightmares of losing his mate in torturous ways. Doing his job seemed to be the only relief. As long as he knew everyone's secrets, he knew his mate was safe. For some reason, she could not understand his overwhelming need to protect her from all potential threats. He knew he would spill any of the night court secrets if it meant keeping Gwyn alive. He had to assume that his enemies knew that too. His shadows continued to swirl around him angrily. They wanted his mate as much as he did. He remembered how she pulled away from them- not wanting comfort from them for the first time ever. He knew in that exact moment how much damage he did, and it was extensive. He would grovel for weeks if he had too.

"Smooth move." Cassian piped up in between bites of green beans. Azriel sent him a withering look.

"I should probably go check on her."

"I would give her some space if I were you. You might want to rehearse what you are going to say anyways since you seem keen on putting your foot in your mouth." Cassian raised his eyebrows at him. Azriel grudgingly agreed with his best friend.

Perhaps, he should practice what he wanted to say. It might help him to avoid this exact situation. He had been frustrated that his mate did not seem to understand how paralyzing his anxiety was. However, she was not a mind reader, and he had never properly explained to her why he felt the need to be consumed with work. He would give her some space, grovel for at least an hour, explain himself, and then pleasure her for at least the next week straight to start off as an apology for the awful words he said to her. Then he would spend the rest of his life trying to make it up to her.

Gwyn let out a sigh as she sunk down into the bath water. The warmth felt good on her stiff muscles. Trainings had been extra long recently since her mate was otherwise preoccupied and she found herself not wanting to be alone with her thoughts. Gwyn rested her head against the back of the large tub, flipping her hair so that it rested outside of the tub to avoid the water. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to relax. Well as much as she could given her current emotional state. Part of her knew that Azriel was just lashing out- that he did not mean what he said. But the other part, the insecure part, was still undecided about how truthful his outburst was. She could not fathom any other reason for his constant need to be on missions and away from her. She attempted to distract herself with her mind-stilling, but before she could get too far into it, foot steps sounded in the adjourned bedroom. It was his way of alerting her to his presence. Gwyn continued to ignore him, but she could feel Azriel looming over her from behind. Rough, calloused hands scraped over her exposed arms, brushing against her shoulders and neck, and finally resting in her hair. She kept her eyes firmly closed. He would not win with a few sweet words and tender touches- not this time.

“Gwyn.” He whispered.

His lips brushed against the outer arch of her ear causing a shiver to ripple through her body. She internally cursed herself for giving him any sort of reaction, even an involuntary one. He pressed a kiss to her cheek, her neck, her collarbone, then the top of her breast. She felt his tongue slide over her skin which finally got him a reaction. She quickly shoved away from him and pushed herself towards the opposite end of the tub, turning around to face him as she did so. Gwyn pulled her knees up to cover her breasts. There was no way he was getting a free show out of all of this.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” She settled a glare at him.

Gwyn knew he felt guilty. It was written plainly on his face. She did not even have to see his shadows, which he was hiding away, to know that they wanted to touch her. Her glare lessened only slightly into a grimace.

“Gwyneth Berdara, I love you more than anyone and anything. I love you more than my job, or this court, or even my own shadows. I love you so much that it is almost paralyzing. I love you so much I can picture all the ways I could lose you- all the ways my enemies may take you from me. I love you more than Rhysand or Cassian. I love you more than the stars in the sky. I will never be able to express to you how sorry I am, but I promise you I did not mean it. I love every second I spend with you.” He was so genuine as he said it that Gwyn’s eyes began to water. She quickly wiped at them.

“Who knew you had such a way with words?” She muttered. Finally, Azriel reached out to her with a shadow. She hesitated for a second before allowing the shadow to caress her face. Az harshly wiped away a tear of his own.

“You are right. I will send someone else on this mission.” She wanted him to spend it with her cause he wanted to, not because he felt guilty. Gwyn voiced the insecurity that had been eating away at her for the last several months.

“Why are you so keen to be away from me? You throw yourself into dangerous mission after dangerous mission with no regard for how anxiety inducing that is for me. I am constantly worried that you are hurt or in trouble or cauldron forbid dead. You say that you can picture your enemies taking me away while I sit comfortably in the night court surround by the most elite warriors. I picture your enemies taking you away from me while you engage in dangerous activities. Do you not see how unfair that is?” His face seemed so tortured. As if he was finally expressing how anxious he had been feeling lately.

“You are right. It is unfair.” He started slowly. He moved closer to her side of the tub to intertwine his fingers with her. “I was not looking at it from your perspective. I was consumed by the idea that if I could keep on top of all the information I found, then I would be the first to know if anyone had something planned against you. I was being taunted by images of my brothers discovering you, and continuing the torment from my childhood.” At the mention of his brothers, Gwyn softened completely. She knew his childhood was his biggest vulnerability. She just wished he told her this sooner. “I know how capable you are. I trained you myself, you won the blood rite for fucks sake. I just want to protect you in the way I was never really able to protect my mom- or myself for that matter.”

Gwyn shifted onto her knees to grab Azriel’s face with both her hands. He did not seem to care that she was getting water all over him, so she did not pay it much mind either.

“I understand. I appreciate you telling me. I know that’s hard for you, but do us both a favor in the future? Talk to me about it. I have been going out of my mind thinking that I make you unhappy when all I need to do is kick your ass in hand to hand combat to ease your anxiety.” They both had slight streams of tears on their face. They were not sobbing, but quietly crying together. Az let out a sharp laugh at Gwyn’s final words. It had her smiling through her tears as well.

“If you beat my ass in hand to hand I will bring you on my next mission.” He rolled his eyes as he said it, so Gwyn knew he was joking. It sparked a brilliant idea in her mind though.

“That is perfect Az!” She brought his face closer to smack a quick kiss on his lips.

He tried to lean in again for something more, but she held his face back firmly. His hands came around her waist to bring her closer. It was as if her enthusiastic kiss was an all clear sign for him. He knew it was safe to touch her intimately after she made the first move.

“What’s perfect?” He asked when she dodged his second attempt at a kiss.

“I should go with you on missions! You have anxiety about my safety? I will never be safer than when I am at your side.”

“You think the answer to my worries over your safety will be to bring you on my very dangerous missions instead of you sitting comfortably guarded by elite warriors as you so graciously mentioned earlier?” He quirked one eyebrow in her direction with his lips turning up ever so slightly into the barest of smiles. It was the one he normally gave when he was teasing her. She nudged his shoulder slightly.

“Okay when you put it that way it does not sound as perfect, but come on! I can help you research each mission, we can come up with a game plan, a backup plan, an A, B, and C plan, and then we will both be happy because we can protect each other.” Her smile was so brilliantly happy that Azriel could not find it in himself to give her an outright no. He gave her a soft smile before tucking her under his chin for a tight hug. She reciprocated by squeezing him with her wet arms. His shadows were finally content to sit on his shoulders and stroke Gwyn’s back every so often.

“I will discuss it with Rhys.” A high pitched squeal that he had only ever heard on rare occasion broke out from her throat. He threw his head back in laughter he could not quite contain.

Gwyn hopped out of the tub so quickly Azriel worried she might slip. She was already tugging him into the room she occasionally occupied when she wanted time alone.

“Where are you taking me?” He could not stop his laughter even if he tried. The image of his naked mate pulling him around with a bright smile was enough to quell his anxiety for the moment. She sent him a suggestive smile, one that always promised a good time.

“To find the ribbons, of course.”

#gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel #acotar #acosf #mating bond #mates

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yesokaythatsfine69 · 3 years

Text

The Beach (Levi Ackerman x reader)

Description: During the beach scene in attack on titan. I changed this scene a bit because I felt it could be more light hearted and more fun after the cut. So be aware that it may not be that exact scene (in terms of what gets said) but roughly the same idea.

Characters: Y/n, Levi, Hange, Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Jean, Sasha, Connie

Pov: third person

Warnings: none, this is pure fluff and just chill vibes.

A/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY LEVI ACKERMAN! Hello! As of right now I'll be focusing the next several pieces on AOT. This is the third and the final piece I'll be writing about Levi. Feel free to request any Levi Ackerman writings at any time though. Have a good read!

Word Count:

Song suggestion: This has nothing to do with this piece but I've been jamming to Judas by Lady Gaga so if ur not a nerd listen to it.

*none of the Gifs used are mine, full credit goes to the maker

The dust that Scout's horses picked up enclosed around them, swallowing them up in a thick cloud of brown. The air was similarly thick around them.

Her hands were shaking, clutching the reigns of her horse, pulling them close to her chest. Y/n wasn't scared though. The things she'd experienced in the almost four years since she'd joined the scouts had changed what the concept of fear was for her. She felt tense- anxiety ridden. She felt like something was about to happen, and the way Eren spoke- it definitely was.

They passed a wall, and Eren's voice cut through the long silence. "I'm sure of it. This is the place where they turned the Eldians titan, which means just up there."

He beckoned them on, rushing his horse forward. Armin swallowed harshly, his eyes meeting y/n's for a beat. They shared a look, that displayed their mutual concerns before it broke.

Y/n had kept close to Armin, whose presence often calmed her. It was strange, but Armin never hid his emotions or disguised his fear (something her friends did so often.) And there was comfort in that. It made her feel less vulnerable.

Levi often teased her for that- but she knew he respected their friendship. Y/n looked to where he rode ahead of her. His hands were steady, expression focused. It unnerved her how he could be so calm.

She blinked away her focus, returning her gaze back to looking straight ahead. Eren led the group to what appeared to be a cliff, and when they reached the top...they saw.

The group seemed to all stop at once, realizing what they found. It was silent, except for the blowing of the waves before them. It was water- the ocean. They all stared, stunned.

Sasha and Connie had mutual expressions of open mouth wonder. Y/n just stared, aghast. Eren on the other hand looked unsurprised and almost bored.

One by one they slipped off the backs of their horses, most rolling up their pant legs and trodding into the water.

Y/n did a little dance in the water, laughing as Connie playfully splashed Sasha in the eyes. Sasha screamed in pain, "my eyes!" After she recovered, she splashed Connie back. Or tried to. At the last second Connie ducked and the salty sea spray hit y/n dead in the face instead.

"Sasha!" Her friend giggled sheepishly. Y/n tackled her into the water, the two becoming completely soaked. Connie chuckled at their antics, pointing his index finger at them with his right hand and keeping his left to his chest. The two girls shared a mischievous look which caused Connie's laughter to die out immediately.

"Take him down!" "Hiya!" Working in sync the two tackled him into the water. The three resurfaced and giggled at each other's soaked expressions. "It's so salty!" Jean was a few paces ahead of them and had just drank some of the water.

"Jean what the fuck. You really need to stop putting things into your mouth if you don't know what's in them." Y/n stood up, twisting her hair to relieve it of some water. Raising a brow, Jean leaned towards her. "Says the girl deep diving into it. Armin says there's nothing in here but salt anyway, and besides someone was bound to drink from here. I just saved them the extra hassle." Y/n flicked water at him. "How gallant of you."

Eren's monologue interrupted them then, they way he sounded close to tears, his voice creaking at the last sentence begged for their concentration. "Will we finally be free?" No one spoke, whatever light mood that existed now diminished.

"way to kill the mood Jaeger." Jean muttered, but he seemed just as solemn as Eren. "Don't worry, I'll lighten it up." Y/n shoved Jean down, and into the water. He landed with a surprised yelp and everyone turned, broken out of their private misery.

"Really y/l/n!" Jean spat, his cheeks dusted with blush. Y/n giggled, until she was cut off by Jean grabbing her and pulling her down into the water. "Shit!" She gasped out, landing in the water beside him.

"Are you serious! Jean, I just rang out my hair!" Jean opened his mouth to retort when sasha and Connie interrupted, shouting "Dog pile!" Jean and Y/n's eyes widened. "No!" "Wait-!" As Kenny once said, kaboom.

Now, all four of them were completely soaked, but none of them really cared. They bursted out laughing, each pointing at one another in amusement. The reflex seemed almost unnatural- it'd been so long since her last belly laugh. Connie, Sasha, and Jean felt similar and the tears they shed weren't just from their chuckles, but something deeper.

Y/n left the three to splash each other, waddling over to Armin, Mikasa, and Eren. Eren still looked off into the horizon but the tenseness in his shoulders seemed lighter. "What do you have there, Armin." She spoke softly to her friend, marveling at the shell he had gently lying in his palms. "Some sort of shell..." His gaze met hers. "I'm sure there have to be hundreds here." Y/n smiled.

"Did you think it'd be like this? Big, breezy, and beautiful?" Armin looked up, looking beyond Eren. "Maybe something close...I just never expected to actually see it...let alone feel it." They shared another look before they turned to Mikasa. She had gotten closer to Eren, but her gaze was in the water. She was kicking at it, her expression unreadable.

"hmmm." Y/n hummed, tapping her chin. She took off, running past Eren and to the left of him. "Hey! Y/l/n, don't go out too far!" Levi called after her. At the left edge, she stopped, bending down and searching fervently in the waters.

"There must be hundreds..."she mumbled to herself, brow furrowed in concentration. "Ah hah!" She straightened, a single white shell lying in the palm of her hand. She ran back, to armin, mikasa, and Eren. She skidded to a stop directly in front of Mikasa, who gave her an amused look.

Y/n dropped to a knee, sticking up her palm. "For my favorite Ackerman!" "Oi!" Levi grunted from behind her and Mikasa blushed. "Thank you, y/n." The young girl smiled, gently picking up the shell. "You are my favorite y/l/n." Y/n crossed her arms. "I'm the only y/l/n." Mikasa smiled a bit brighter.

Eren had turned towards them, snapping out of his gaze from the unusual commotion. He had watched the two interact and the way Mikasa had gently lifted the shell and just as gently cradled it caused the corner of his lips to upturn.

Y/n noticed. "I can find you one too, Eren. Although I'm afraid finding one as pretty as Armin's is impossible and thus out of the question." Eren softened and shook his head. "No, thank you, y/n." She stood up from her position, and was immediately wrapped in a quick hug from Mikasa.

"Oh! What's this?" Hanje lifted something reminiscent of a burnt rock from the water, gently rubbing her fingers over it. Y/n drew closer, allowing Hanje to explain all of the oddities she found. Y/n nodded along, only half understanding what her friend was ranting about.

Finally Hanje gasped with delight- cutting herself off. "there's more over here!" She pranced away from y/n, pausing several steps away and bending down to search for more.

Finally y/n turned to Levi, who had already been watching her. He seemed so out of place it was funny. His arms were crossed and he looked disinterested...but y/n knew that he was just uncomfortable. They watched each other, taking their differences in.

Really Levi couldn't believe how different two people could be. There y/n stood, a breeze sifting through her hair, her entire outfit completely soaked, and a stupid grin on her face. She was some brat- he'd admit it.

"You're going to get sick, y/n." She smiled, wading through the low tide to where he stood. "You'd love the chance to take care of me." "Tch, I deal with you enough as is." The two had shortened the distance between each other.

The wind ruffled his undercut. "It's a lot less scary than it looks." Y/n gently nudged him with her shoulder. "I'm not scared." Levi gave her a sharp look and anyone one else would've slinked away, but y/n wasn't anyone else- especially not to Levi.

Gently she took his hand in hers, squeezing it softly. He narrowed his eyes, the silver orbs twinkling against the sunset. He interlaced his fingers with her own though, his deep admiration for y/n often undermined his "tough guy" resolve.

Y/n smiled at him, "Okay old man are you going to roll up those pants or will I have to?" Levi sighed, grumbling under his breath as he bent down. "If I get sick from this-" she rolled her eyes. "Levi it's water. The thing you bathe in, clean with, drink. You will not get sick."

He pulled a sock off. "Tch, I once saw you find a piece of uneaten bread hidden behind books in the library, and watched you eat it without question. I don't believe anything you say about what's healthy and what's not, brat." Y/n helped him fold his socks neatly next to his shoes. "That was one time!" He paused. "And it's scarred into my memory."

Again, y/n rolled her eyes. However, the smile on her never even flinched. She grabbed Levi's hand and yanked him forward. He gasped, but y/n only sped up. "Oi, oi, oi, wait! You're going to fast, we'll-" They splashed into the water, splashing it up to their faces.

Levi's eyes were wide, and he seemed absolutely at a loss for what to do with himself. Finally he met her gaze, and saw how she looked at him. Levi felt his cheeks flush. "Tch, fine it's not as bad as I thought." He turned to leave, but she yanked him back to her.

"hey, hey, hey mateo, mateo." She pulled him so that his side was resting against her, he turned back to y/n. "Stay awhile." She said gently. Her smile had changed now, and Levi noticed. His shoulders relaxed. He realized now why this was so important to her. This could be the last chance they had.

Then she kicked water at him.

"Y/n!" She laughed and backed deeper into the water. "You may be humanity's greatest titan fighter..." She began to move her arms around wildly. "But I am humanity's greatest Levi Ackerman fighter." Levi sighed, unamused. "You got water on my pants!" He moved towards her.

"The target approaches, seemingly irritated." She backed away. "Tch, Seemingly?" Levi's hand balled into fists. "He's going deeper into enemy territory, what will y/n do?" "Y/n should run." Levi got closer.

He jumped at her, and she tackled him, the two landing into the water. Once again y/n became instantly soaked, and Levi was now in the same boat, wet completely from head to toe. "It is salty!" Levi gasped out, his arms still wrapped around y/n. "Did you think we were all lying before?" Y/n laughed, watching as Levi struggled to get salty water from his eyes.

He pulled his fist from his eye, finally looking at y/n. She was soaked, probably more than he was, but she was as radiant as could be, her eyes shining, her smile wide, and her hair blowing softly. He stared at her several seconds, lost in how beautiful she was. Sometimes he had a difficult time believing that someone like her could ever be interested in someone like him. "I love you." He clutched her tighter to him.

Her face became more serious, and she closed her mouth. Y/n gently put a wet thumb on his cheek. "I love you too, Levi." They stayed there, in that moment together.

"and yet I'm only your second favorite Ackerman." Y/n sighed, going to pull away, but Levi grabbed her and to her surprise he laughed.

"What's so funny?" Levi and y/n turned, Connie, Sasha, Jean, Hanje, Eren, Armin, and Mikasa all stood over them.

"None of your business, brats." Levi said, crossing his arms. The group shared a glance. "Oh, no, guys wait-" Connie, Sasha, Jean, Hanje, and Mikasa attacked, jumping to tackle them, splashing and creating a mini hurricane.

Armin and Eren watched, still standing. Armin was smiling, whilst Eren's expression still remained cautious. The tension he had carried moments before abandoned him though, and it seemed as though now for the small moment they had, they all realized- only now could they truly live it.

Today was today and that was all they had for certain.

"There's water in a place where water should definitely not be!"

"Don't make me drown you!"

"Who's foot is this?"

"What's gonna happen when we leave? Will we still be wet?"

"GODDAMNIT I KEEP SWALLOWING IT! WHY DOES IT BURN!"

"you all are no match for my skills- I am unconquerable!"

"Yeah, I'm never doing this again."

Armin turned to Eren. "Sometimes... sometimes I believe that it'll never get better than this." He took a breath and Eren put a hand on his shoulder. "Right now...I think...I think you may be right, Armin."

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A/n: hey guys! I hope you enjoyed this, feel free to request more Levi Ackerman or to give critism. Merry Christmas!

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#levi x y/n #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #captain levi #levi aot #levi x reader #levi attack on titan #aot imagines #aotc #aot x reader #aot memes #aot manga #aot headcanons #aotearoa #x reader #xreader #imagine #imagines #happy birthday levi

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readyplayerhobi · 4 years

Text

Flower | 40 | End

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, angst

; Word Count: 6.9k

; Warnings: Slight anxiety attack, mentions of panic, slight body issues

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: So...this is it 😢 Flower is officially over! I started writing this on November 15th, 2019. Almost a year later, here we are with 40 chapters, 3 drabbles and 180k of words. Can you believe I actually finished it? I hope you’ve all enjoyed reading it and the journey of the MC finding herself and falling in love with Hoseok. It’s been so fun to write and it’s sad to let it go. If you’ve enjoyed reading this, please let me know with a comment or an ask! I’ve loved reading how much you’ve all felt seen or embraced by the MC with her struggles and I’d love to hear your thoughts on not only this chapter but the whole fic! Feedback is what keeps authors going and I came very close to leaving writing once Flower was finished but I’m still going to carry on. I’m not sure if this chapter is good or not, but I hope you enjoy it anyway and think it a fitting end to the story!

; Flower Masterpost

“Okay...okay. Let’s do this...you can do this. It’s easy. Just...walk down the aisle. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? Well, Hoseok could not be there or I could have a heart attack and drop down dead. That would suck. But it would resolve a lot of my issues, I wouldn’t have to worry about everyone watching me. On the other hand...I’m going to marry the love of my life. As long as he turns up” The soft sounds of your muttering are probably barely heard over the soft playing music through the speakers in the room, YouTube playing mindlessly to itself.

It was a good job, as it meant that no one else in the room could hear your panicked thoughts that were being verbalised. Hoseok and you had decided to get married at an exquisite mansion hotel with the ceremony itself being in the elegant gardens outside. There was a full-sized maze alongside a stunning fountain, the centrepiece being a marble depiction of Aphrodite rising from the shallows.

You’d taken a walk around the perfectly groomed gardens the night before, taking in all the decorations that you’d painstakingly picked out over the months that had been artfully arranged by the staff. The flowers in the gardens were beautiful, a smorgasbord of pinks, oranges, violets, reds and yellows that brought the whole area to life. Alongside it looking visually perfect, it also smelled amazing as well with the soft scent of different flowers mixing.

At night, the tiny fairy lights that had been strung up around the building front and the metal trellises that were organised in the garden gave off a soft, golden glow. It made the whole place look ethereal and you were excited for everyone else to get to see it during the reception tonight.

The actual wedding ceremony was scheduled to start at two in the afternoon, with only friends and family invited for that. It would be outside as well, with Hoseok and you standing at the end of a make-shift aisle on the lawn section of the hotel’s garden. Temporary chairs had been arranged on both sides for your guests, dark wood with ivory silk draped over everyone. At the end of the aisle, each chair had a silk bow in ivory and deep purple alongside a bouquet of specially arranged flowers.

It all looked perfect and you’d marvelled at it yesterday, amazed that they’d managed to bring your vision to life. Now all you had to do was walk down it and get married, which was where you were a little panicked.

The room that had been assigned to the bridal party was on the lower floor of the hotel, reducing the risk of you potentially killing yourself by tripping over your dress while walking down the stairs. It was technically two hotel rooms connected through a shared bathroom, which you found bizarre.

Your mom and Hoseok’s mom had taken the other room for their use to get changed, the hairdresser and makeup artist they’d hired working there to make them look their best for the ceremony. Even now, you could hear them chattering and laughing away with each other. Even through your anxiety, you can’t help but smile as you hear them get on so well.

Any fears you’d had about them not liking each other had quickly disappeared. Instead, they’d become good friends and liked to meet up now and then to have a talk over coffee or something. It pleased you to see your mom getting to have more friends.

Eden and Amelia had also chosen to get ready in that room, not wanting to crowd the one you were in too much. It was already full of dresses and a ridiculous amount of makeup and hair product with only four of you so you couldn’t even imagine the chaos with five of you.

In your room was Soyeon, Chungha and Dahyun alongside you. Dahyun was currently three months pregnant, having successfully been inseminated with Jungkook’s sperm. He’d agreed to their request and after a few months of getting prepared for the attempts, Dahyun had undergone the procedure. What it had been exactly, you didn’t know because you hadn’t felt it was your business to pry into something like that.

It was a privilege to even know they were trying before anyone else. Their announcement had come at your bachelorette party when Dahyun had refused alcohol, immediately leading Soyeon and you to be suspicious. You’d never seen Chungha’s beloved ever turn down a drink so it had been a clear sign of something at least.

Needless to say, your party had happily become a celebration of their impending baby. Thankfully, you weren’t one of those people who got overly annoyed at others announcing things at events. Or at least, not big events. Your bachelorette party had been a perfect time to find out, whereas you might not have been so amenable if they’d told everyone today instead.

That was normal though, right? Today was your day. Yours and Hoseok’s. People who felt the need to co-opt special days like that were a special type of self-absorbed in your opinion.

Given it was so early into her pregnancy, Dahyun isn't showing that much. Which meant her bridesmaid dress hadn’t needed to be altered too much. None of them has gotten into their dresses just yet, instead currently in the process of getting their face and hair done. Chungha’s hair has already been done, elegantly styled into a beautiful updo with a few tendrils curled around her face.

The makeup for the girls was a smokey eye with subtle blush and contour, alongside a neutral lip. It wasn’t anything flashy, but you’d loved the concept of it all. Particularly with the small and delicate crystals that dotted along their waterline, adding a little sparkle to match the tiny crystals on their deep violet dresses.

As a present to each of them, you’d bought them a gift set from Pandora. In each one was a pair of dainty stud earrings with a heart design alongside a matching heart-shaped pendant necklace. All the hearts were encrusted with brilliant-cut stones, making the perfect gift that could be used again in the future for casual use.

They’d all been in awe of it and surprised at being given presents as well. You hadn’t even known it was a thing until you’d looked up wedding preparation online, discovering that you should also buy something for Hoseok. Which had led to you buying him the fancy watch he’d been drooling over for months now. It had been eye-watering expensive, but it had been worth it for his excited text this morning.

Along with the watch, you’d also written him a letter. It was meant to be light-hearted and fun, but you’d ended up writing way too much as you’d poured out your love to him alongside everything you felt for him. To your eternal embarrassment, you’d ended up crying while writing it as you’d told him everything you’d never been able to vocalise, including writing possibly a million times that you love him.

He’d been instructed to not read that until just before the ceremony.

His present to you was a gaming table, which might not seem to be very sentimental to anyone else but you’d been ecstatic over it. For years now, you’d been saying that you wanted to buy a proper table that was designed for board games and that could then be used as a normal table when converted. They were super expensive so you’d resigned yourself to never getting one, but he’d printed out the receipt of what he’d ordered and put it into an envelope for you to open tonight.

Neither of you had ever been a traditional couple, and that certainly wasn’t about to change with marriage.

“Hey, you okay?” Amelia asks, interrupting your intense thought process as she sits down next to you. As usual, her aura is warm and reassuring as she reaches over to gently squeeze at your hand. You don’t spend a huge amount of time around her, but you knew both Eden and her enough to want them in your bridal party.

“Yes? No? Maybe? I don’t know. I’m just…” Trailing off, you struggle to find the right words and instead gesture towards the air. It makes no sense but you can’t quite figure out what you’re trying to say. Mainly because you can’t figure out what your mind is thinking.

“It’s okay to be worried, don’t feel like you shouldn’t be. If you’re anxious or nervous then that’s okay as well. Don’t let anyone tell you how you should be feeling, just feel what you are. Trust Hoseok, trust yourself and all your family and friends. We’re all here for you and we want you to have the best day possible. Tell us if anything is wrong, okay? I have no doubt that Chungha and Soyeon would strong-arm everyone into whatever was necessary to make you feel comfortable.” She says, smirking as she nods over to the two women who are chattering away in their respective chairs.

“I know, I know. I’m trying. It’s just...god, everyone is going to be staring at me and I hate being the centre of attention,” Looking down at your hands, you chew at your lips. “What if I mess up the vows? Or I freeze or drop the ring?”

“Hey, it’s normal to feel that. I doubt there’s anyone who’s gotten married who wasn’t at least a little bit anxious about messing something up. Yes, everyone is here to watch you, but they’re for Hoseok too. I’m sure he’s just as worried that he might make a mistake, and if you do then, so what? It’s not going to ruin anything, it just means your human. If anything, people will probably find it endearing. The only person you should concern yourself with is Hoseok, and I doubt there’s anything you could do today to ruin the day for him. Unless you don’t go.” Amelia laughs when you give a shocked gasp, jaw-dropping open and eyes wide.

“I would never do that! But what if he decides he doesn’t want to get married anymore?” Now the worry that had wiggled itself deep inside your mind comes to the fore and you find yourself almost whispering the words. It feels like a betrayal to Hoseok for even thinking he’d do that, but you can’t help the fear.

You must not have been quite enough though as Chungha speaks up, facing you in her chair with a stern expression on her face as she wags her finger. “Lady, do not think that. I don’t want that thought to even enter your head. As if Jung Hoseok is ever going to back out now. I think that man would’ve eloped with you if you’d asked instead. He’s going to be standing at the end of that aisle, probably bawling like a baby.”

“Maybe not that far.” This is from Eden, who’s laid out on the bed in the centre of the room, playing Zelda on her Switch. She’d had her makeup done earlier and is now waiting for the hairdresser to be free while Amelia is waiting for her makeup. All of you had decided that you’d be last to get ready to make sure that everything looked as fresh as possible.

“Want to bet? That man is gonna be sobbing.” This starts up a whole ten-minute discussion about whether or not Hoseok was going to cry at seeing you. Namjoon hadn’t cried but Jimin had during their weddings, surprising no one. But Namjoon had cried at the birth of his daughter.

You weren’t sure, to be honest. Hoseok didn’t cry all that often and you could probably count on one hand how many times you’d seen it over four years. On top of that, you weren’t entirely sure that you wanted to see him crying. It made your chest hurt when he did and you always ended up crying too.

Something about seeing strong and proud men cry was just heartbreaking to you.

For a while, you just sit back and let the conversation wash over you as they all debate and borderline argue, intensely amongst themselves. They’d all switched around now and they’ll soon start getting into their bridesmaid’s dresses, which meant you’d be finally getting ready.

Your nails had been done the night before with a beautiful design in the same colour scheme as the wedding. They looked so pretty and elegant, which was a surprise to you every time you looked at them as you never really bothered doing your nails. While you liked to do fancy makeup looks now and then to post onto social media, nails were not something you were interested in.

Maybe you should reassess that thought.

“Anyway, what we’re all trying, and failing, to say is that Hoseok loves you and if he doesn’t cry then he’s crying inside at how beautiful you are.” Soyeon states firmly, sitting next to you and admiring your nails as well. All the bridesmaids had the same style to keep the theme going and she wiggled her fingers with a bright smile.

“I’m not even ready yet, you don’t know if I’ll be beautiful.”

There’s dead silence in the room after the comment, with even the hairdresser and makeup artist turning to stare at you. Between the six other women in the room, you’re pretty sure that they’ve got every emotion from shock to annoyance to incredulity covered. Feeling yourself get warm at their attention, you look down to your lap in embarrassment.

Obviously, the wrong thing to say.

“Okay, we’re going to ignore that you just said that. You don’t need to be dolled up and in a wedding dress to be beautiful, it’s just going to enhance what you already have. And I don’t want any arguments on that.” Poking your side lightly, you playfully wince at Soyeon as she scolds you. Everyone else is nodding along solemnly before they carry on with whatever they’d been doing.

“Seriously though, I overheard your conversation with Amelia. She’s right. Embrace your feelings but don’t let them overwhelm you. Standing in front of a crowd is nerve-wracking for anyone, but you’ve got the love of your life standing there with you. Just focus on Hoseok, he’ll get you through it. He always has, right?” Soyeon said.

Giving her a half-smile, you nod and do a remarkably good job of looking like a scolded child or something. You know it’s just because she loves you that she doesn’t want you to berate yourself, along with the fact that she knows what you’re like. If someone doesn’t verbally acknowledge your problems then you’ll just obsess over them.

Your phone screen lights up in your lap before it begins to vibrate suddenly, Hoseok’s name visible on the screen. Frowning down at it, you wonder why he’s calling before a multitude of emotions and thoughts runs through your mind.

“Go take it in the bathroom.” Pulling you up, Soyeon practically pushes you into the bathroom before giving you a smile and a thumbs-up as she closes the door.

Seeing the other door is also open, you peek out and let everyone in that room know that you’d be using the bathroom for a few minutes and to not come in. Once you get the acknowledgement, you close and lock it as well before pushing up to sit on the counter.

“Hobi! Why are you calling?” Leaning back against the mirror, you frown deeply as you question him. The first response is just his familiar deep chuckle, the sound already helping to soothe some of your frayed nerves.

“Amelia texted Joon, who told me. I don’t want you to stress yourself out! Not today, today’s meant to be a happy day. No stress. Or anxiety.” Snorting, you roll your eyes as you trace an invisible design onto your thigh.

“Sure, like that’s gonna happen. You know me. And why are you calling? We’re not meant to see each other until the wedding, it’s bad luck!” There’s a brief pause and you can practically hear him rolling his eyes, the deep sigh he lets out telling you all you need to know.

“Meeps, I’m pretty sure that only counts for physically seeing each other. I can’t see you right now. I don’t recall anything about not being allowed to hear you, or talk to you. Besides, we make our luck.” He sounds so nonchalant and now it’s your turn to sigh at him.

“You’re going to get us hit by lightning or something.”

“Impossible, the weather schedule for today is meant to be sunny with a little bit of cloud later on. Nice warm temperatures that aren’t too hot but also not too cold. Perfect. No lightning.” His immediate rebuttal has you laughing, unable to stay mad at him for too long. Not when he’s trying so hard to take your mind off things.

“Seriously though, are you okay? What are you worried about? Talk to me.” Hoseok asks, his voice calm and steady as he stops joking around. There’s a brief moment of resistance, the thought that you don’t want to bother him with your silly thoughts or annoying emotions before you remember that you can trust him. No matter how ridiculous it sounds in your head, Hoseok will listen and he won’t make fun of you.

“I’m just...scared. Of all the people. Like, they’re going to be watching me or staring. What if I look fat or ugly? Or I fuck up saying the vows? Or I drop the ring or my dress splits or something? Or if I trip down the aisle?! Or if you decide you don’t want to marry me anymore?” As you begin to reel off the questions that have been plaguing your mind, you can feel your chest getting a little tighter and your breathing shallower.

With the practised ease of someone who’s dealt with your panic attacks over the years, Hoseok makes calming and reassuring noises over the phone until you’re silent. Just listening to him, you take in the comforting words as he lets you know that you’re okay and everything is fine. Finally, once he thinks you’re calm enough, he carries on.

“Meeps, that’s fine. Don’t be upset that you’re having those thoughts. I’ve had every one of those thoughts today as well. I mean...not the dress one. Substitute that for pants splitting or something, which is even more embarrassing because my underwear is not black today. But the point I’m trying to make here is that it’s normal to have those thoughts today. I’d probably be more worried if you weren’t having them.” He pauses to laugh before you hear shuffling noises.

There’s no doubt he’s probably not even getting into his tuxedo just yet and you curse the fact that men take far less time to get ready than women. He’ll probably only start like...an hour before the ceremony begins or something.

“But all I’ll say is, it doesn’t matter if anything goes wrong because we’ll fix it. You and me, just like always. You won’t look fat or ugly because you’re neither fat nor ugly anyway, instead, you’ll be the most beautiful woman here. Which you always are to me but don’t let my mom hear me tell you that. And I’m going to be standing at the end of the aisle, I promise you that. I’m the one who proposed to you and I will be there, waiting for you. That’s one thing I can assure you of completely.” Hoseok says this firmly, his voice perhaps more serious than you’ve ever heard it before.

You can practically feel his determination to make you understand that he’s going to be there. That he’s going to marry you today, no matter what happens. It makes your heart swell with love and emotion, causing you to press your hand against your mouth.

Hoseok takes your silence as a positive, choosing to let it carry on for a little longer before speaking once more.

“I love you, Meeps. And by the end of today, you’re going to be my wife. We’re going to have a great day with a beautiful ceremony and a fun reception before probably going to bed drunk. Or at least, I’m going to be drunk. Not entirely sure if I’ll be able to take you to Poundtown tonight-”

“Don’t ever say that again.”

“But if not tonight then definitely tomorrow. Unless you don’t want me to drink, in which case probably tonight if you’re up for it.” Shaking your head, you can’t help but smile at his stupid comments. He always knew how to cheer you up, even if it was with the most ridiculous thing you’d heard today.

“You can drink, I’m not going to make you sober throughout the entire reception. I want you to have fun with everyone, so if you end up drunk then that’s fine. Just don’t go overboard.”

“Choosing to ignore my Poundtown comments, I see.”

“Jung Hoseok, I am going to hang up now. I will see you later, okay?”

“Okay. Love you.” Feeling a little shy, you murmur your next words into the phone.

“Love you too.”

The ceremony is officially about to start and you stare at the open door, knowing that outside all your guests are waiting. Not only that, but Hoseok is at the end of the aisle. You’d been reassured by everyone there who had peeked out to make sure, quelling your fears and worries.

All the groomsmen had come inside upon finding out you were here, lining themselves up alongside their specified bridesmaid partners and chatting away happily. They all looked incredibly handsome in their suits, the colours matching the bridesmaids perfectly and you felt a little pride at having thought of a good colour scheme.

Your mom is fussing around you, making sure that your dress looks perfect and that your bouquet hasn’t fallen apart or anything. Sighing, you gently push her hands away as she tries once more to move your necklace.

All of them had given you something as part of the tradition for the bride. Dahyun had lent you a beautiful Cartier bracelet, glowing with diamonds, as part of the ‘something borrowed’ while Chungha had bought you diamond earrings for the ‘something new’. Your mom had given you the bracelet she’d worn for her wedding, now occupying your other wrist and Hoseok’s mom had provided the necklace adorning your neck.

It was a beautiful silver necklace with a dainty leaf design, leading to the main piece in the centre which was dotted with tiny diamonds. Each leaf spreading out had either amethyst or an aquamarine gem in alternating order. She’d ordered it specially made for your wedding, matching your engagement ring with the gems and fulfilling the ‘something blue’.

You’d been amazed at everything they’d given you, understanding now why they’d all told you now to buy any jewellery for the day. They’d all decided to make sure you had everything you needed anyway.

But you knew that your mom’s need to keep straightening out your dress or brushing away unseen dust was just to keep herself preoccupied. She’d already cried once when you’d come out in your wedding dress, makeup and hair all done. That had earned her an exasperated sigh from the makeup artist.

“Mom, mom, come on,” You coo to her, smiling before taking her hands and squeezing. “You gotta go out there, go get your place.”

She hesitates for a moment, unwilling to leave you before nodding. After a few words of reassurance from her to you, telling you that you’re going to do well and it’s all going to go fine, she turns and hugs your dad tightly before kissing him. You’d feel embarrassed at the sight of it, never quite being comfortable with your parents' displays of affection, but it just causes you to laugh softly.

Once she’s out the door, you hear the music begin from outside, the notes flowing through the door faintly. Everyone inside quietens and you can almost feel the excitement ramp up. It just makes you feel more nervous though, particularly when they start to head out in their pairs slowly.

“Are you ready?” Your dad asks, his eyes already going glassy with tears as his lip wobbles slightly. Giving him a concerned look, you immediately reach up to wipe the tears as they start to fall, feeling your heartbreak at the sight of your dad crying. He never cried.

“Dad! Don’t cry, oh my god. I’m sorry.” Cleaning up his face quickly, you’re stopped by the gentle way he grasps your wrists. For a moment, you think that he’s going to push you away but instead, he pulls you closer and carefully hugs you.

It’s a little awkward as you’re trying not to ruin the carefully done hair and makeup, but you can’t deny your dad a hug. Especially when you’d never really been much of a hugger growing up. You would be cruel to deny him one, especially on your wedding day. Your parents were feeling emotional that their little girl was getting married today.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s just your old dad getting sappy. You look so beautiful. Hoseok is so lucky, you better remind him of that every day.” He’s pulled back now, giving you the softest smile that is still a little watery. His hands move to your shoulders and he stands back to examine you fully, his eyes taking in everything.

Before you can respond to him, Yoongi is disappearing out of the door and heading towards the aisle. He’s alone, as you’d planned, but in one hand is the bouquet that Hoseok’s sister would’ve held had she still been alive. It had been his suggestion to hold it, symbolising the family member that Hoseok didn’t have anymore and you’d been more than willing to agree.

You wondered what Hoseok thought when he saw it as neither of you had told him that Yoongi would be holding it. Hopefully, he was happy with it, along with his parents.

Turning back to you, your dad squeezes your shoulders reassuringly before smiling at you. Ironically, all it does is make you more nervous as you realise that now you’re the one who’s going to have to walk down that aisle next.

“Come on, it’s time to make your fiancé cry.” His words in a teasing tone, your dad turns to face the door before offering you his arm. Standing there, you stare at him before looking at the door with trepidation. Nerves roil in your stomach as you hear the faint sound of music playing, knowing that everyone out there is waiting for you.

Which in turn means everyone will be staring at you.

Those nerves quickly turn to anxiety and your breath comes faster, chest feeling a little constricted by the tight bodice of the dress. Without even realising it, your hands start to shake and the bouquet in them shudders visibly.

Quickly, your dad takes the bouquet from you to make sure that you don’t accidentally deflower them or crush the stems. The last thing you needed was to ruin your perfect bouquet only minutes before you were supposed to walk down the aisle.

It frees up your hands and you find yourself flapping them as you stress, trying to shake out the negative emotions as you pant. Your dad’s eyes widen, obviously panicking himself at your obvious distress. He’s never had to deal with you struggling like this before and he doesn’t know what to do but his paternal instincts kick in quickly.

“Hey, come on, sweetheart. Breathe, breathe. Take a big breath in, come on, that’s it. Not let it out slowly. And again, that’s right.” Talking to you in his comforting voice, tone level and low, you follow his instructions and start to feel a little calmer as you force yourself to calm your breathing. It’s hard, and you still feel the anxiety but it feels a little more manageable now.

Closing your eyes, you run through all the tips your therapist had given you for how to cope with anxiety attacks. What worked for you was to sing in your head, the lyrics, whatever song you were loving lately. It probably takes longer than you’d have liked but finally you feel like you can cope with your emotions enough to carry on.

When you open your eyes again, your dad is giving you an expectant, yet worried, look. Shaking your hands once more, you reach out and take the bouquet from him before taking a deep breath. Linking your arm through his, you straighten your shoulders and lift your chin before smiling at him.

“Okay, okay. Let’s go.”

Walking down the aisle is surprisingly less stressful than you’d imagined. The famous wedding song plays through the air as you walk slowly and the whole atmosphere feels almost like a fairytale. The soft lights twinkle even in the daylight while the gentle, warm breeze makes the ribbons on the chairs flutter delicately.

Along the floor, the white and purple rose petals that Namjoon’s daughter had spread in her role as flower girl were strewn haphazardly. A few of them caught the breeze and rolled delicately to a new place, making it seem like the floor was consistently changing. You liked it, smiling at the sight of how beautiful everything looked.

Everyone was staring at you, as you’d expected, but surprisingly it wasn’t as intimidating as you’d thought. You didn’t exactly enjoy it but it wasn’t terrible. Probably because you were more focused on initially admiring how perfect everything looked. How months and months of thought and money had finally accumulated into the perfect wedding.

But mostly, you weren’t as bothered by the staring because you were focused on the end of the aisle. There was no real altar here, given that it was being held at a hotel and everything, but the metal garden arch at the end had been decorated in delicate flowers, ribbons and lights to make an even better end.

And beneath it stood Hoseok.

If you’d ever thought Hoseok looked handsome before then it paled in comparison to him today. His black tuxedo made him look tall and slim, every part of him looking perfectly put together and elegant. The deep purple waistcoat beneath his jacket contrasted with the white of his shirt perfectly; the colour combination making his skin almost glow with health and happiness.

There was only the slightest hint of tattoos at the edge of his collar, leaving to the imagination the artwork he had permanently on his body beneath his clothes but you didn’t need to imagine. You’d seen them all, traced them delicately into your memory over the years until you could point out where they were without even seeing them.

Finally reaching him, you paused to look at your dad and gave him a bright smile of gratitude before giving him a second hug. This one was a little tighter than before and when you let go of him, you saw that he was crying once more. He didn’t give your hand to Hoseok, instead just gave him a stern look while trying to surreptitiously wipe away his tears.

“You look after her, Jung Hoseok. You make sure she’s the happiest woman.” There’s iron in his voice, telling Hoseok that it wasn’t a question but more a command. But there’s also love and affection in it, something Hoseok can tell as well by the way he nods his head.

Handing your bouquet to Chungha, you take Hoseok’s proffered hand. Up close, you can take in the details of his face better and you take a moment to simply admire him and imprint him into your memory.

The sides of his head had been shaven, the undercut short and seen with the style he’d chosen to wear today. His hair had been styled back, pushed away from his forehead. It was a look that had made you weak in the knees many times over the years and you’d practically begged him to have it for the wedding, knowing that he’d blow everyone’s mind with how handsome he looked.

Hoseok had a face that looked like it had been hand-carved by the gods from the finest marble anyway and this hairstyle showed off all the highlights of his face. The high cheekbones that made his smiles so animated, his cutting jawline, the clean slope of his nose, the heart-shaped smile that lit his entire face and the dimples that made him seem so human.

His lip ring was still in, the silver shining in the sunlight. He’d been unsure whether to wear it but you’d told him to embrace himself and keep it. You’d fallen in love with him as he was, and you wanted him to show himself how you saw him. Which included his piercings and tattoos.

Your heart clenched though when you looked into his eyes finally. Hoseok’s eyes were one of your favourite things about him. The crescents they turned into when he smiled brightly, pushed into the shape by his cheeks and the way his eyes could practically dance with delight when he was happy.

Today though, those beautiful and expressive eyes were watery with tears. The wet streak on his cheek told you that he’d already had some of them fall and you frowned at the sight of them. Everyone had been right; Hoseok had cried upon seeing you down the aisle.

“Baby.” You whisper, unsure if you’re meant to talk to him. Deciding you don’t care, you reach up to wipe away the tears and smile when he kisses the palm of your hand before nuzzling into it, uncaring of everyone else.

“Meeps, you look perfect. I read your letter, I love you too.” Before you can stop him, he’s leaning forward and pressing a quick kiss to your lips. There’s a murmur in the crowd, alongside some laughter and he looks over at everyone with a raised brow.

No one says anything though and he gets a satisfied look, ignoring your shy expression as you turn away from everyone.

“You’re not supposed to do that.” Keeping your voice low, you give a hesitant smile to the official who will be taking you both through your ceremony. Hoseok lets out a snort of laughter as he squeezes your hand tight, letting his thumb run along the back of your hand lovingly.

“I don’t care. It’s our wedding, I’ll do what I want.” And before you can stop him, he turns you and gives you another kiss, this one lingering a little longer. Eyes widening, you can’t help but giggle as you hear yet more laughter.

You should be annoyed at him, but you know he’s a force of nature. Plus, you don’t care. It feels nice to know he can’t help himself.

“Okay, let’s get married, Meeps.” He grins at you before facing the officiant once more. Staring at him a moment longer, you smile at him and nod.

“Let’s get married.”

Hobi Hobi,

We’re getting married today! Are you excited? I hope you’re reading this when I told you to, if not then you’re cheating >:[ it feels weird to write a letter. I don’t even know if I’ve ever done this before, so I’m sorry if it sounds really cheesy and lame. What do people write in these normally? I’m just going to write what comes to mind so if it ends up sappy then you’re not allowed to tease me later about it.

Anyway, I want you to know that I’m sorry that I suck so much at telling you how I feel and my emotions. I wish I could be one of those people who’s telling you every moment how handsome you are and how much I love you but I can’t. I’m sorry :( I’m trying, I swear! Even if I don’t get to tell you as often as you deserve, I hope you know that I love you more than anything in the world.

Don’t ever forget that, okay? Even when we’re arguing over something silly or we go to bed mad at each other, don’t forget that. I know we’re pretty good at talking things out but there’s always that chance that we could have a big blowout. So I want you to remember that I love you.

I’m still not entirely sure what I did to deserve you, but I don’t regret sending you that message. If anything, I think I should send the Flower team a big bunch of flowers or something for creating the algorithm that brought you up as a match. Imagine if it hadn’t and I’d just deleted the app, we’d have never met and I’d still be lonely and sad.

But we did meet, and I took a chance on you by sending you that embarrassing message. And then you took a chance by actually meeting up with me and going on that date. I still remember it, and I don’t know if I ever told you but I still have the ticket for the escape room. I know you still have yours in your wallet :) Thank you for giving me your time, even if I wasn’t your type. I hope I’m your type now.

I’m not sure that I will ever be able to tell you how important you are to me. Not only myself but my life. You’ve helped me to embrace myself and learn to love myself over the years through kindness. I know my limits in terms of my mental health now and you’ve helped to support me with the medication and the therapist. Neither of those were things I’d been comfortable with doing before your encouragement. But you also gave me a safe space to break down in; somewhere that I knew I could be at my most vulnerable mentally without having to risk being hurt even more.

You held me when I cried, you comforted me when I panicked and you calmed my anxiety over the years. I can never thank you enough for helping me to understand that these aren’t deficiencies and I’m not broken. I just need a little help to get through things sometimes. At the same time, I hope that I’ve become that safe space for you as well. I know that you’re not as emotional as I am, but I feel that you’ve opened up to me about things that hurt you. I’ll keep your secrets safe and I’ll always be here for you!

I hope you’re happy with your life now. With me, and our home and our furbabies. I hope you stay happy, and if you don’t then talk to me. Please. I don’t want us to ever realise that we’re making each other unhappy and I don’t want to ever be the reason for negativity. I want to spend the rest of my life with you in our little home, growing old together as we play board games and dote on our animals while you increase your tattoo collection even more. I know that people like to say that they can’t imagine their lives with their significant other, but I really do feel like that.

My life without you would be hollow and monochrome, as you bring colour to my world and fill it with joy and happiness. I’ve never laughed as much as I have these last few years with you and I know we’ll keep that in our relationship if we try hard.

I don’t really know where this letter is going and I’m babbling now. But I guess the main thing is just that I can’t wait to marry you. It may not be very feminist of me but I can’t wait to take your name and be your wife. I can’t wait to call you my husband. I’m going to be terrified in the ceremony and so nervous but I’ll be happy too, I promise! I still can’t believe that you picked me, out of all the women you’ve seen, to be your girlfriend and then decided that you wanted to marry me.

Jung Hoseok, I solemnly swear to treasure you for the rest of your life and make sure you know how much I love you. I might not be able to tell you all that much, but I’ll show you. I’ll make you smile and laugh, I’ll buy you things that make me think of you, I’ll hug you tight and cuddle you until you’re complaining.

So in case it wasn’t obvious enough, I love you. I just want you to know because I know I suck at telling you, like I said. I’m also bad at writing letters but what’s new? I’ll finish this off quickly so you’re not spending too long reading this. Don’t want to make you late for our wedding after all.

I love you. I love you, Jung Hoseok. I love you, Hobi. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Lots and lots and lots of love, your soon to be wife <333333

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imabeautifulbutterfly · 3 years

Text

Moving On - Mini Series - Part 3

Summary: Jirli proves herself

A/N: Hello my lovelies,

I’m so excited that you have followed this mini series, there are only two more parts, and I can’t wait for you all to read how it ends. I hope I am doing justice to all the characters.

Italics = reader's other voice

Italics and bold = telepathic communications

Bold = Commander Wolfee’s POV

Italics and Indented = Reader’s enhanced hearing.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, I think that’s about it for warnings. If I miss any please let me know.

Words: 3,297 shorter part

Thank you everyone for following along and showing love. As always, feel free to drop some love, a comment or even a reblog, it’s always welcome.

AO3 Link

Previous -> Masterlist -> Next

THE FIRST MILE

“Master, we’re all ready over here at the canyon”

“Very good Jirli, may the Force be with you” Master Plo responded.

“May the Force be with us all,” I looked over to Commander Cody, “what do you think Cody?”

“I think we’re as ready as we’re going to be Commander”

“You know you can just call me Jirli, everyone does”

“Yes, Commander Jirli” Cody said with a smirk

“Clearly, you have developed General Kenobi’s sense of sass”

“Whatever do you mean?” I just chuckled at his smirk, I looked over the squad I'd been assigned a mix of the 212th and the 104th, all good men, ready to fight to the bitter end. Despite their experience, I could feel their anxiety through the force, “Cody, let’s gather the men before we get into our positions.”

“Men, form up!”

Within an instant, all eight men stood before me and the Commander, “Before we get into positions, there’s something I want to say, the last time I was on a mission, it didn’t go well for me, as many of you probably know. After all, gossip is never in short supply in the GAR”, they all chuckled in agreement, I could feel their tension lessening. “Although I haven’t worked with any of you before, I have worked with your brothers. My squad was my family, they meant everything to me, therefore by extension you, all of you, are my family. Which means I will defend each and every one of you till my dying breath. Understood?”

Everyone nodded, I could see some were a little shocked at my statement, “If anyone is injured, if anyone gets so much as a scratch, I want to know about it. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir” came one resounding voice.

“No one gets left behind!”

“Yes, Sir” came two more

“No one is dying on this battlefield!”

“Yes, Sir!” most of the men shouted.

“Do you know what we are? We are stones. Each one a boulder of strength. Get enough boulders together and they become an impenetrable mountain. Today WE are that mountain!”

“YES, SIR!” Everyone cheered.

“Get to your positions and may the Force be with us.”

They all hollered and cheered, as they headed to their positions, all eight men were taking the high ground, only Cody and myself were going to be near the cannon's exit, hidden in the crag that was off to the side. The only one visible to the droids would be me, and only when I stepped out of the crag, once the droids were close enough.

“Very moving speech Commander”

“Alright there sass mouth, you don’t have to lay it on that thick. I’m not the best when it comes to speeches.”

Cody reached for my shoulder and turned me to face him “I wasn’t being sarcastic, Jirli. I was being honest, I will fight by your side, whenever and wherever, vod’ika.” I couldn’t help the smile that appeared on my face, I didn’t even have a response really, I simply nodded his acceptance.

My comm beeped, “Jirli?”

“Yes, Anakin?”

“It seems your plan is working, the droids are turning towards the canyon, they've lost about 20 droids so far, they’ll be on your position in less than ten minutes.”

“Thanks Anakin, be careful”

“You too.”

“Alright men'' Cody comm-ed the team, “we just received word, the droids are coming, they’ll be here in ten minutes, stay frosty gentlemen”, all the men pinged back their acknowledgement.

“Stay frosty?” I asked tilting my head

“What? No good?”

“Nah, I like it,” I smiled back at Cody.

Ten minutes felt like hours, but eventually we saw the tops of the droids coming over the ridge, heading towards the entrance of the canyon. At this point all the teams would be converging on our location, it was just a matter of how long I could keep the droids distracted, giving the teams time to get situated. We had estimated it would take about 25 minutes for the other teams to converge on us. Cody was crouched beside, his hand on the detonator, his breathing was steady, calm. His presence was soothing, clearly being around Master Kenobi had helped him keep his feelings in check, I had no doubt he would only press the detonator once I gave him the signal. The droids were less than five feet away from where Cody and I were positioned. I grabbed his forearm, squeezed it once, and walked out of where I was hiding.

I stood in the path of the droids, my robe was blowing in the wind, the hood covering my face, here’s hoping these droids wouldn’t just shoot first and ask questions later.

Breathe. I closed my eyes and felt the force around me, guiding me, calming me.

“HALT!” The droid's voice echoed through the canyon walls.

“Explain. Why have we stopped?” The tactical droid inquired via the holo comm.

“There is a person standing in the way” the lead droid answered

“You can go no further!” I demanded in my most commanding voice

“They say we can go no further” reported the droid

“I suggest you go back and leave this planet!”

“They want us to leave the planet” echoed the droid

“We have orders, proceed” came the command from the tactical droid.

“I said, you CANNOT go any further!” My voice echoed through the canyon walls

“They aren’t moving” informed the droid

“Eliminate them” was the order issued

“Attack me and you will cause your own destruction”, I reached for my lightsaber under the robes, but I didn't ignite it.

“Commander, they have something in their hand”

“What do they have?” Asked the commanding droid

“A cylinder of some kind”

“Cylinder?”

“Not just any cylinder” I answered the unseen droid at the back of the battalion, I ignited my lightsaber, the white light of my lightsaber shining and humming.

“JEDI!!”

I raised my saber into a fighting stance, and within seconds, the bombs went off, a dust cloud emerged. Using the dust as cover, I went in between the droids, cutting down all that stood before me, with each slice, I saw the faces of my dying squad over and over again. The only thing that could be seen amongst the dust was the light of my saber swinging, most of the droids were destroyed from the bombs. Every so often I heard a blaster bolt being shot from above, once the dust settled, the only thing remaining standing was the tactical droid’s tanker, which didn’t last long either as Master Plo and Commander Wolffe, came up from behind and destroyed the tanker within a matter of seconds.

I stood before both men, while both looked over my shoulder at the carnage I had left in my wake. Cody came up from behind me, “Couldn’t have left us a few tinnies to thrash?”

“Sorry Cody” I laughed, placing my hand on his right shoulder, “next time, I’ll make sure to leave you a few more”.

“Wait, you did all of that?” Commander Wolffe asked

“What? Did you think I was all looks and no skill?” I teased

“Little one, are you okay?” Inquired my master

“Never better, Master. It was very …” I looked back at the destruction, a grin forming on my face, “… cathartic.” The smile on my face beamed as I looked upon my old Master. This is exactly what I needed, an opportunity to get back some sense of justice for my squad, my family, my love.

“Jirli!” came Anakin’s voice from behind Commander Wolffe, when he saw me standing before the tanker, my Master and the two commanders, I noticed his relief, his shoulders and face relaxed, I also felt it in the force. Without thinking, he rushed over and hugged me, it was a bone crushing hug, but it was comforting, as only a brotherly hug could be.

“Okay Anakin, I think you’re breaking a rib now” I managed to squeeze out, Anakin laughed into my shoulder, “Well then, don’t scare me like that again”, he grabbed my upper arms, pushing me far enough away to look at me, “Are you okay? Any injuries?”

“None” I beamed back, I turned my attention back to Cody, “Cody, what about the Stones any injuries?”

“Only one” came his solemn voice, “Who?” concern laced my voice, moving out of Anakin’s hold and stepping closer to the Commander, I grabbed his forearm.

Seeing the Commander touch Cody’s shoulder and then grabbing his arm made me uneasy. I didn’t understand why her touching him made it feel as though a weight had been put on my heart. I couldn’t help but clench my fists by my side.

“Boil, he … “ began Cody, looking away from my eyes for a second, I saw him take a deep breath, oh no. No. No. Looks like you may be responsible for one more. Shut up!

He turned to face me, and a small smirk began to appear, now I was confused, “He says he got a scratch on his right hand when he was climbing to his position. Wondered if you could look it over?” I couldn’t help but laugh, Cody’s eyes were warm and jovial, “You really are sassy! I think you need time away from General Kenobi."

"Is that an invitation?"

I just shook my head. If Commander Wolffe doesn't do it for you, there's always Cody. Yeah, not gonna happen.

"Tell Boil, he's better off seeing the medic. In fact, let him know I'll check in with the medic to make sure he did get it taken care of, we wouldn’t want the scratch to get infected, now would we?” I winked at Cody.

“Yes, Commander” Cody saluted while trying to keep his face stoic and failing, as the blush appeared on his face, Cody walked off in search of Boil.

Master Kenobi walked over, “The Stones?”

“Oh, I nicknamed my squad”

“You mean, my squad”

“Relax Master, I’m not keeping them, not yet anyways. I may be back for them later. I really enjoyed working with them.”

“So do I, young one. Just so you know I’m not going to give up my men to anyone, not without a fight”.

I couldn’t help the grin that was on my face “Master, attachment is not the Jedi way” I teased. Anakin started to laugh, when Master Kenobi shot him a look, turning his laugh into a cough. Anakin looked at me and winked. I knew I was pushing it, but we did just have a successful campaign, time to revel in it.

“Are you really lecturing me on attachment, Jirli?”

I could see the crinkle in his eye, Curl and I were the worst kept secret, it only made sense the Master Kenobi would have known. I didn’t respond, simply looked to the ground, while I smirked. It felt good to laugh and remember Curl with fondness not tragedy.

“I think it’s time we head back to our respective ships” Anakin suggested.

“Agreed” Master Kenobi said, “Jirli, good job on the execution of your plan. You might be happy to note there were no casualties.” I looked from Master Kenobi, to Anakin, to Master Plo, they all nodded, reinforcing Master Kenobi’s statement. No major injuries. No casualties. I couldn’t help but well up with tears at the joy of that.

“Before we leave, we need to clean up the bombs that didn’t explode” Master Plo advised.

Although all eyes were on my Master, I could feel one set of eyes focused on me. I glanced over to see Commander Wolffe’s eyes burrowing into my stature. I couldn’t help the uneasiness that washed over me from the intensity, I shifted slightly to hide behind Anakin. Why did this man’s gaze unnerve me? Maybe because you like it. I wondered when you were going to pop up again. Surprised you were able to keep quiet during the fighting. I know better than to distract you during an actual mission. Thank goodness for that, but you’re wrong. Am I? I don’t like being scrutinized. I think you like having someone look at you, the way he is. Very different from the way Curl used to look at you. I’m not interested. Whatever you say.

“Excuse me gentlemen, I promised I would look in on Boil”, I walked away from the intense eyes that were burning a hole into me.

She took on the remaining droids? She gave her temporary squad a name? She wanted to know if anyone was injured? I have to admit her plan was successful, it didn't even cost us one life. I could see from his expression, Cody was ready to follow her anywhere. Sinker is ready to defend and follow her. Curl certainly was ready to devote his whole life to her, in fact he did. Had I cheapened his sacrifice? Was I wrong about the Commander?

“Commander Wolffe?” I looked up to see, everyone had moved away except General Skywalker.

“General Skywalker”

“Everything alright, Wolffe?”

“Yes, sir, why do you ask?”

“First, you're still standing here, instead of heading towards your shuttle. Secondly, you haven’t stopped staring at Commander Stonn since I arrived, in fact, you still followed her with your gaze as she walked over to the medics. Is there an issue with the Commander?”

Was I really just staring at her the whole time? Snap out of it di’kut. I forced my eyes to look at General Skywalker "No, sir. There’s no issue with the Commander.”

Come up with a plausible excuse for staring, come on fool.

“I was just trying to reconcile how a tiny woman like the Commander took on an entire battalion or what was left. I can’t imagine what that looked like, it probably was something to behold.”

The General let out a chuckle, “You have no idea, she’s …” the General stopped, a smile appearing on his face as he looked towards the Commander, “She's special, Wolffe. More than you can know"

"Sir?"

"She has an ability with the force that many can’t understand, in fact, it scares them because of her natural talent. For example, she learned all the lightsaber forms. Pfft, not just learned them, but mastered them, as well. She’s the only Padawan to have ever sparred with Master Yoda, Master Windu, Master Plo, and Master Kenobi. When we were training at the temple, whenever she had to spar with any of the Masters, it became a spectacle at the temple. Everyone gathered to watch.”

“How did she do?”

“She held her own with each of the Masters, they all respected her because of her ability. Which in itself is impressive, however, things changed when Master Yoda called her out before they began their session. After that everyone … I think in some ways people were jealous, in others I think they were frightened of her. Especially, since the sparring session with Master Yoda was her final test before she became a Jedi Knight.”

“What do you mean sir?”

“He told her, in front of the entire temple for her final session, she couldn’t hold back. I remember she looked at him, there was no emotion on her face. After a while, a smile formed on her face, she said ‘how did you know?’, Master Yoda simply said, ‘when almost 900 years you are able to tell someone holding back, hmmm.’ At that moment, the entire temple realized she could have easily bested any of the Masters, but she didn't.

Her and Master Yoda's sparring match lasted over an hour, eventually it was rendered a tie. Both barely broke a sweat. When the session had ended, Master Yoda simply smiled at her. The crowd was quite, it was eerie but she only smiled back at Master Yoda and chuckle ‘You held back’. ‘Only a little’ was his response. Seeing her match Master Yoda stroke for stroke was something I will never forget, it was beautiful. However, after she became a Knight many were frightened of what she could do, simply because she’s a Grey Jedi with a deep connection to the Force.”

“What’s that?”

“A grey Jedi, is a force-wielder who can use both the light and dark side of the force. Jirli devoted a great amount of time to her studies, trying to understand what it meant for her to be a Grey Jedi. She's one of the few Jedis I have known, who have developed perfect balance with the force. Unlike other Jedis, she’s able to form attachments without it affecting her, even her attachment with Master Plo has helped her not hinder her. When she lost Curl and her squad, I thought it might unbalance her, and we might lose her too, but she proved me wrong. As she always does.” The adoration in the General’s eyes was unmistakable.

“You love her”

General Skywalker turned to face me, “Yes, she’s my sister. I adopted her as my sister when we met at the temple, all those years ago. Ever since that day she’s been my best friend and closest confidant. She understands me better than anyone else in my life.”

“It seems she has a gift for acquiring a multitude of brothers. Anyone that gets to know her is automatically ready to follow and fight by her side” maybe she’s using some kind of Jedi mind trick.

“When you get to know her, Commander, you can’t help but love her. Jirli fights with her whole being, she’s not afraid to stand up for those she loves. When it comes to protecting people, she will gladly lay her life down. It really is a shame you didn’t get to see her take on the battalion.”

“Maybe one of the other clones was able to record it?”

“Record what?” General Kenobi asked, walking up to the General and I.

“Jirli taking on the battalion” answered General Skywalker

“Oh, her ‘Stone Squad’ recorded it, I just heard a few of them talking about it”.

“They did?” I asked way too hopeful, General Kenobi laughed at my enthusiasm, “Yes, Commander. Talk to Cody, I think he has access to all the footage. Come on Anakin, we are needed back on our ships.”

“Coming Master. Commander.” General Skywalker, nodded to me a good bye, I reciprocated the nod and comm-ed Cody as soon as I was alone.

“Wolffe?”

“Hey vod, I heard some of your guys may have recorded the attack between Commander Stonn and the droid army, is that correct?”

"Ha, some, try all of them"

"Really?"

“Wanting to see what your Commander can do?”

“Just curious and she’s not MY Commander.”

“Whatever you say, vod. But you might want to tell your face to stop looking at her like she hung the stars.”

“I do not!” Was my face that obvious?

“I just sent you all the recordings. Don’t worry, I don’t think she can read your looks yet. In fact, I’m pretty sure she thinks you hate her.”

“Well she’s not entirely wrong there. I don’t trust her, not yet, but I think these recordings will definitely help.”

“She’s an amazing warrior, vod. Give her the benefit of the doubt.”

“I’ll try”

“Hey vod?”

“Yeah, Cody”

“Regardless of what you say, you do have a crush on her. You can lie to yourself, but not to me. I know you too well. Can’t blame you really, most of my men have a crush on her too.”

My hand clenched by my side, why was I getting possessive, she’s not mine.

“I … she’s … Listen vod, she can be interested in whoever she wants, she's not mine.”

“Really?”

“Yes”

“So does that mean I can ask her out?”

“WHAT!”

“Ha, ha, just kidding vod. I know how possessive a wolf can be.”

“Take care of yourself, Cody.”

“You too, Wolffe”

Previous -> Masterlist -> Next

Tag List:

@liadamerondjarin @lady-ren

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keenmarvellover · 4 years

Text

POSTS FOR YOU - 1

Some links to posts with valuable content you want in one place.(BASICALLY EVERYTHING IS THERE)

Suggestions and Recommendations are appreciated and accepted.

Last Updated : 16/10/2020

NOTE: Some of these post are written in a crude and unruly fashion. But they contain valuable tips, guidance and information. If you can't/don't want to read such posts, then don't read.

Mental Health

Do you need a Hug?

Maybe you’re having a stressful day. Maybe you just need a deep breath. Maybe you just didn’t realize how stressed you are. You can get your comfort here.

Some stuff to help you sleep

This is definitely not a google drive full of the sleep stuff from the Headspace app, including sleepcasts, music, and wind down meditation, that normally costs 17.99 a month, no siree and you definitely shouldnt share this with people

Anti-Anxiety Tools

Some tools to help you before, during or after an anxiety attack

100 Reasons NOT To Kill Yourself

READ IT. SHARE IT. REBLOG IT. Save a Life.

HOBBIES MASTERPOST!!!!!!!!

A really excellent way to reduce anxiety is to pick up a new hobby. Find something you’re interested in, learn it, then use it as a healthy and productive way to cope.

Health

Some very Important Lists for Rating PAIN, FATIQUE AND MENTAL HEALTH

It is MUST share

PSA Rregarding Hospital bills

Also how to pay hospital bills when you are broke.

How to differentiate between COVID-19, FLU AND COMMON COLD

Anyway, as we enter cold & flu season in the YEAR of corona, this will come in very handy.

Treatment for HIV

VERY IMPORTANT. Please Read and Share.

What does the Color of your Period mean?

A must read for individuals who get periods.

How to differentiate between Period Cramps and Appendicitis

A MUST READ

From a Person who is Hard of Hearing

Types and levels of deafness

General Tips for Vagina Health

Some stuff they don't teach in sex-ed.

Undo the damage of Sitting

Are you always sitting down? Then these are some exercise you should probably try out for better health.

Guide to Proper Bra Fitting

Guide to Proper Bra Fit and Measuring. Please Read and Share.

Washable, Reusable Menstrual Pads

(Part II)

Reusable menstrual hygiene product, and are an alternative to disposable sanitary napkins or to menstrual cups.

Artists

Art Masterpost

How to draw *insert whatever you want, its there in the list*?

Book Binding

Some video links to different types of DIY Bookbinding

For Artists who Need Photoshop

If youre an artist who cant afford photoshop, definitely DO NOT go to this google drive to pirate the program, that would be so bad!!!

Do’s and Don'ts of Designing for Accessibility

Please consider this when designing for ANYTHING. For BUSINESSES and ARTISTS.

Writers

Color Synonyms

For both ARTISTS and WRITERS

How to make a Masterlist

Simple but efficient instructions to make a masterlist

ULTIMATE NOVEL WRITING RESOURCE MASTERLIST

This is an ultimate masterlist of many resources that could be helpful for writers.

List of AUs and Ship Tropes

For when you run out of ideas.

AUs

Ship Tropes

Legal sites to get some much needed Info

If there was only a way to find out all of this rather edgy information without getting yourself in trouble…

Resources for Describing Characters

For writing about physical appearances, character traits, talents,and skills and other related stuff of your characters, here is a comprehensive list.

Resources for Describing Emotions

Having trouble writing jealousy, happiness, motivation. Here you go!!

Some Resources for your Writing

Body Language

Reverse Dictionary

Character Traits

Things to Keep in mind when naming Characters

Valuable advice. Trust me

Words to Use when Writing Smut/Romance

This is for smut/romance writers. Kinda like a thesaurus.

Tips to write Pain

How are you supposed to write about pain you’ve never experienced before?

References for Greek Mythology Characters

Link to an extensive site every single detail of Greek Mythology from Gods to Family Trees.

Tips to write Blind Characters

Some tips that might be invaluable when writing character that are near-blind or blind

Things to Remember when writing a Highly Emotional Scene

Just small things that could make a great difference

How to write with Multiple POVs

Tips on how to write multiple POVs with diverse characters

Synonyms and Antonyms

The person who made this list is a blessing to writers. Just saying.

Good Qualities for Female Characters

Females don't always need to be protected and be weak. Make them more realistic.

Words to Use instead of ‘Said’

Every single situation is listed. Check it out.

Limits of the Human Body

All extremities listed

Readers

Legal Sites to Download Literature

From children’s books to rare books, from philosophy and religion to nonfiction. I guess you can find anything here.

The Rights of the Reader

And some (lots of) bashing of Helicopter Parents.(You want to read only the rights. Here it is)

Wet Book Rescue : Steps to save a Wet Book

Valuable information if some of your prized books were affected by recent flooding. The video even shows you what to do if you can’t dry the book out right away.

Cheatsheet to Navigate AO3

Makes your time on AO3 a little more easier and interesting

How to trick Writers into giving you More Fanfic to read

Works for Comics and Art as well.

Get a Book Suggestion

This book website gives you the first page of a random book without the title or author so that you can read it with no preconceptions

Books written by POC Writers

Only POC authors included in the list.

Students

Basic ASL (American Sign Language) Movements

ASL Hand Movements for beginners.

Tips for studying with ADHD/a>

Made by a person with ADHD themself.

Resources to Learn New Languages

Ten fairly useful general language resources

How to properly take notes

It helps. It really helps.

FREE ONLINE LANGUAGE COURSES

Here is a masterpost of MOOCs (massive open online courses) that are available, archived, or starting soon. I think they will help those that like to learn with a teacher or with videos.

A Thread of Tips

A thread of tips to help High School and College students academically

LEARN THINGS FOR FREE

FREE ONLINE COURSES (here are listed websites that provide huge variety of courses)

Google like a BOSS

Some life hacks which make student's lives easier.

625 words to know in your Target Language

If your learning a new language, these words will help you build a strong foundation.(Some tips and sites are include too)

Miscellaneous/Life Hacks

How to add music to your Blog

How to add your very own, custom homemade playlist to your blog?

How to Walk with Purpose?

Some tips on how to hold yourself in public and why.

Cheatsheet for Laundry Rooms

Saves a lot of money in the Laundry Room

How to Gird up your Loins?

A lesson in how to gird your loins.

How to Disappear Online

Please read and spread for the sake of abuse victims or stalker victims.

What to do during a Nuclear Attack

I hope you never have to use it but here are some guidelines to follow in the event of a nuclear attack

How to pull an All-Nighter.

A to-do list

Write a Thank You letter after your Interview

It leaves a good impression on your interviewer and increase your chances of passing the interview.

Laundry Tags: Meanings

A life hack that you’ll definitely need at some point.

Where to find free Movies and Series Online

Lots of sites. Lots and Lots of sites. I am not Kidding. Now go and chill without netflix. (Part II)

How to get a Refund?

Get your stuff or a refund.

HOW TO DO EVERYTHING FROM SCRATCH

This starts at the most absolute basics of gardening and planting, provides definitions, and hopefully is easily understandable. This is a MUST-READ. (Farming)

Discuss your wages

It’s your right to share your salary, not doing so could be holding you back.

Youtube Tutorials for Basically EVERYTHING

This is a big, giant list of Youtube tutorials that will teach you all the basic life skills you need to know in order to be a functional adult.

Safety

Emergency Evacuation - Items to Gather

A text list of suggested items to acquire in the event of an emergency.

If someone you know is in an abusive relationship

AN ABBREVIATED GUIDE TO ‘Holy shit!!! My friend is in an abusive relationship what do I do’ and what not to do.

Defense Tips for Women

Defense and Safety tips a woman MUST know. (Part II)

An app that informs your Emergency contacts if you are inactive in a set period of time.(Could prevent rape attempts if used correctly)

If a Man gets Physical

How to check if a mirror is one way or two-way

If you are trapped in a smoke-filled apartment: What to Do

How to get out of Hand-binds

How to get out of the bunker of a Car

How to track Anonymous asks.

How to pick a Lock

Traits and Warning signs of an Abuser

What to do if a bigot pulls your Hijab (from behind)

What to do if someone pulls of a Muslim Woman's Hijab? (To do List for both Men and Women)

#safety #health #mental health #writers #readers #micellaneous

557 notes · View notes

ladyhallen · 3 years

Text

The Confidence of a Dragon, the Pride of a Lion

rahakasha

Cho Chang hires Fon for a hit on Voldemort/Death Eater. Fon tracks down his target and meets Harry while his target and Death Eaters are attacking her.

Cho Chang doesn’t actually like going back home, but certain circumstances, such as a dead boyfriend, do necessitate extreme circumstances.

Still, it took her two years. A year to convince her father and another year to find Feng- gēgē. If it weren’t for how damn important it was, Cho would have given up but it was. It was so important.

So despite how frustrating it was to argue her father into agreeing, and how tiring it was to find a trace of a man who was like the wind, she was finally face to face with Feng- gēgē.

He hadn’t aged a day, as was typical of Asian men who took good care of themselves. He was still lean, tall and incredibly handsome.

He was also the uncle who’d cajoled her into calling him brother when she aged and he didn’t.

She didn’t want to know, because it would break her heart, but she posited it was a curse.

“Feng- gēgē,” she murmured, running to hug him.

He stood up in a hurry, still taller than her but just as incredibly warm. “Little Cho,” he greeted. “Why were you looking for me? Faisu didn’t say anything. Just that it was urgent.”

She sat down across him and warmed her cold hands with the heat from the tea.

“Do you follow magical news?” she asked.

He tilted his head slowly. “No, not really. There was not much interest in my line of work.”

Cho took a deep breath and decided to explain to him the magical war.

Feng- gēgē was a good listener and he didn’t interrupt. His dark eyes were intent on hers and only moved to refill her teacup when it was empty and held her hands when she started to fidget.

“Two years ago,” Cho breathed slowly so her voice didn’t break. “He killed my friend, Cedric. He was a good boy and I would have married him but that bad egg killed him.”

Feng- gēgē finally moved. He sat beside her and pulled her close to him in a hug, so close she was almost sitting on his lap.

“And you want me to kill this bad egg?” he asked in his low, deep voice. “Would that make you sleep again and smile, little Cho?”

Cho sniffled, but she bit her tongue. “No, though if you kill him, it would work. No. He has supporters. I know some are forced because of many things, but those that are there because they want to. Can you…?”

The image of a very angry Harriet Potter flashed through Cho’s mind and she almost laughed.

No, Harriet was angry and she needed something to do. If word got around that Cho had deprived her of the hunt, then Harriet would get angry at her.

The Death Eaters though, the ones willing, aside from the Lestranges – who Neville had claimed to hunt – they were fair game.

And while Cho wasn’t angry enough to hunt, she was hurt enough to ask the biggest predator she had ever known to hunt them down.

“Of course I will,” Feng- gēgē agreed. He patted her shoulders and hugged her again. “It will be a nice break from my work. Sort of like a foreign vacation.”

Cho did giggle at this. “Only you, gēgē, would find hunting to be fun. Though, take care. A friend of mine is hunting down the bad egg for revenge. If you meet her.”

“I will not hurt her,” Feng- gēgē promised.

That’s not what I’m worried about, Cho thought.

Face down on the floor of Malfoy’s elaborate sitting room, Harriet breathed.

Okay, so maybe the plan to storm Malfoy Manor wasn’t a good idea, but when they took Hermione, Ron and her had maybe gotten a bit desperate.

No, not a maybe. They had definitely gotten desperate.

But that was alright. She had a plan.

The plan was in tatters but it was still a plan.

Her wand was taken, and her best friend was bound in front of her and Bellatrix was getting too Crucio-happy.

But she could still breath and she could still cast an expelliarmus without a wand and enough focus and determination.

She just had to wait for the right moment.

“Crucio!!” Bellatrix screamed and Harriet shrieked in agony.

Fuck.

Okay, so focus was a bit difficult, but determination was there.

“Merlin,” Harriet sighed out loud. She had to distract Bellatrix enough that she could recover to focus. “You are so noisy.”

“What?” Bellatrix said.

Harriet struggled to sit up and, “I mean, if you’re going to Crucio me, can you at least not scream too? My ears are ringing.”

Bellatrix flushed red. Then purple. Then she raised her wand to curse then –

“She’s right you know,” Ron said, catching on. “Why do you shout that spell? Do you need the decibels for momentum? Because Merlin’s beard, you are so loud.”

Ron got the next spell, his scream a terrible thing to her ears.

It gave her respite, however and she had enough focus.

“Expelliarmus!” she enunciated clearly. “Accio!”

Accio was new in her repertoire of wandless spells. She thanked Hermione and her paranoia under her breath while Ron punched Bellatrix unconscious.

“Fuck,” Harriet sighed. “Thanks Ron.”

He patted her while searching the room. “No problem. You took the first three anyway. Where is everyone?”

He had a point. It was strange, because no one was around at all. The Malfoy’s had vanished to a side door when Bellatrix had started cursing.

“That would be my fault,” a male voice said calmly.

Harriet didn’t curse him, but she dearly wanted to. Heart attacks for the recently tortured were a thing.

“Pardon me,” he added when both of them breathed hard. “But I was busy taking care of the rest of the house. I had to save you for last. It turns out, you saved yourselves.”

Harriet holstered Bellatrix’s wand, and straightened up from her dueling posture. “Thank you. Who..?”

He smiled impishly. “My name is Fon. Little Cho asked me to help.”

Cho Chang was incredibly far from Harry’s thoughts. It blindsided her. She had to blink a few more times. Then…

“That’s great, thanks. Have you seen the dungeons? They have our friend.”

Ron was giving her a look that said he was incredibly weirded out, but Harriet was tired and recently tortured. She had to roll with the weird here or else she’d suffer from a mental breakdown.

He smiled again and it Harriet was starting to find it comforting.

There was just something incredibly nice and attractive about a person who looked and acted confident. Like the world would throw whatever the fuck it was at him, and he’d still be standing at the end of it.

Harriet had gone through months trying to pretend like she knew and understood things, and having someone else take charge, even for a moment, was lovely.

She was going to end up having anxiety after this, she just knew it.

Hermione just about jumped into Ron’s arms and Harriet patted any bit of Hermione she could reach.

Fon waited by the doorway politely and didn’t make a sound.

“How did you end up here?” Hermione asked.

Ron and Harriet exchanged glances.

“Uhm,” Harriet said slowly. “Can we do that later? You can yell at us then.”

“Why would I yell at you? Unless you got purposefully captured?” Hermione asked in a half-joking tone.

They avoided her eyes and Hermione’s hair just about started to float.

“Merlin’s saggy fucking – I was joking!” she exclaimed.

They dragged her out of the dungeon and they were both hiding smiles as she berated them for their recklessness. At least Hermione was alive and there to berate them.

Hermione finally noticed Fon and went quiet and red with embarrassment.

“I’ll leave you here,” Fon said at the silence. “I still have more hunting to do.”

He inclined his head to Ron and Hermione and freaking bowed a few inches lower to Harriet. He flashed her one last smile and left quickly.

“Huh,” Ron said. “He’s your type exactly, isn’t he, Harry?”

Harriet flushed red. “No!”

Hermione stared. “Yes, he is exactly your type. Confident, self-assured and capable. Zabini, that sixth year prefect you dated in fifth year, and didn’t you have a crush in McLaggen?”

Harriet protested all the way back to camp. “I did not have a crush on McLaggen!”

I might add more and post this as an individual one-shot in AO3 tomorrow.

#fanfiction #fonxharry #hpxkhr #hp #khr #harry potter #katekyo hitman reborn #fon #harry #female harry #crossover #genderbend #hermione granger #ronald weasley #ron weasley #hpxfon

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neworleansspecial · 3 years

Text

Dysregulation

Summary: Carlos thinks it's time to address some issues.

WC: 1.4k | AO3

Warnings: discussion of mental illness

They never talk about what happened at the firehouse after Owen got arrested.

To be fair, there’s a lot more going on, Carlos can admit- their home and the firehouse burned down, Tommy’s husband died, there was a massive dust storm- there hasn’t been a lot of time to talk about anything that wasn’t happening in the immediate moment. That does not mean, however, that Carlos has forgotten.

It’s not the first time he’s had to restrain TK to calm him down. While it’s not a daily occurrence, it’s happened enough that Carlos needs more than one hand to count them off. Part of him wonders if anyone else has even noticed the issue, or if it’s just him trying to hold TK together when he comes dangerously close to flying into pieces. He knows of at least two other occasions TK sought out poor coping mechanisms. There was his fight at the bar where he got arrested, and an altercation with Judd over some stupid call.

Carlos does research about it before he even thinks of talking to TK. He likes to know all the facts of a situation before he gets into it, and he figures that if he can find some answers or coping strategies online, this might go easier than just trying to shoot a shot in the dark about helping his boyfriend. What he finds describes TK’s behavior as emotional dysregulation, and it’s not uncommon in a variety of disorders, at least two of which he knows for a fact TK has been diagnosed with.

He calls Gwyn one morning alone while he’s meal prepping for the week. TK, Owen and Mateo have already gone to start their shared shift, while Carlos’ isn’t until the evening. While he doesn’t know much about Owen- seeing as TK mostly refuses to talk about his father and the two of them are rarely in the room together long- he knows him well enough to recognize a lot of the same neuroses between the two. If that doesn’t help, at least Gwyn has known TK longer than Carlos has.

They spend a few minutes on pleasantries and catching up before Carlos drops the questions on her. “I wanted to talk to you about TK.”

“He’s not hurt again, is he?”

“No, no, nothing like that, he’s fine.” Carlos double checks his mother’s recipe card and pulls out the next vegetable to dice up. “I think he is, anyway. I just wanted your advice on something.”

“Of course.”

Carlos takes a second to gather his thoughts. He doesn’t mean to just dump TK’s business out in the open, but he needs someone to help him figure this out, and he figures someone who raised TK would have some guidance on how to approach this. He wants to help TK in the same way TK helps him when he’s overwhelmed or anxious.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but sometimes TK doesn’t exactly… manage his emotions well.”

“Oh, definitely not. He gets it from Owen. Between the two of them, living in that house was just constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“That sounds familiar.” He considers the time they fought after the farmer’s market. TK acted like the world was ending, even going so far as to remove some of things from Carlos’ apartment. It had felt like an insane overreaction, but one that he couldn’t really say anything about when he didn’t know what it felt like to be in TK’s position. “How did you deal with that?”

“I spent a lot of time in therapy figuring that out.” She pauses. “Probably should have been the two of them in therapy, come to think of it. But what my therapist told me was that I have to realize that it’s real for them.”

“Meaning what, exactly?”

“TK’s blown up at you at least once, I assume?”

“Once or twice.”

She hums. “When he’s that upset, it’s like it’s the only emotion he’s ever had. It’s real to him. The best advice I can give you is to step inside his head with him. The thing people like you and I have to understand is that if we want to be with them, we have to understand that it's a mental illness and we aren’t going to be able to fix them. We can only support them in recovery and try to understand when they’re having an episode.”

“That’s very insightful, Gwyn.”

“I’ve been dealing with Owen Strand for almost thirty years. I picked up a few things.”

He laughs, but only because he feels like he should. They chat for a few more minutes before he hangs up and finishes his meal prep. It makes sense. Carlos isn’t a therapist, and he won’t try to be, but he can be there for TK.

When he and TK both sat down and had the conversation about their health, it had been maybe two weeks into their relationship. It was something they had needed to speak about. Carlos talked to him about being autistic, and TK told him about having ADHD and the series of inconsistent diagnoses he’s been given by the laundry list of doctors he’s been through. The current diagnosis is borderline, he had said, but he’s been diagnosed with everything from bipolar to psychosis since he was first seen by mental health professionals in his teenage years. Every doctor has a different opinion, he had said. Whatever the case, he knows what Gwyn means when she says to keep in mind that it’s not coming from a rational place in TK’s mind.

Now that they’ve moved back in with Owen while they hunt for a new place to live, things have become more tense. TK doesn’t like being here and it shows. He and Owen are constantly on edge with each other, on the cusp of a fight or actively having one that winds up with Owen drinking outside in the backyard- and pressuring Mateo to join him- while TK paces in their room and Carlos tries to convince him not to hit something. It can’t be healthy for any of them to keep living like this.

He waits until they have the place to themselves to talk about it, both for TK’s comfort and in case things blow up, as they sometimes do when TK and Carlos fall out of step with one another. They’ve had their dinner and washed up, and are now tucked under a blanket together on the couch while a documentary plays on the television.

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you.”

They fall into a short silence after that. TK fidgets in what he undoubtedly thinks is a subtle way, bouncing the leg that’s not pinned beneath Carlos’ weight and tapping his fingers against each other. Carlos feels bad for bringing him anxiety, but they do have to talk about it at some point.

“I love you,” he starts, “I really do love you, TK, and I’m not going anywhere, but I need you to be more aware of yourself.”

“What does that mean?”

This is the difficult part; finding a way to phrase things without making TK feel like he’s being attacked or cornered, something which will only lead to a fight. Carlos recognizes the irony of this tone-policing when he’s trying to talk to TK about the very root issue.

“I feel like you don’t have a good handle on your emotions and it’s upsetting me,” he tries. “It makes me feel like I have to walk on eggshells and like your emotions matter more than mine. I’m sure that’s not your intention, but that’s what I feel like, and I was hoping we could figure out a way to deal with this.”

“Like what?”

Carlos shrugs. “Ultimately it’s up to you, but one thought I had was about therapy. Maybe trying a different approach with your therapist, or even getting a new one. Or, I thought we could try couple’s counseling.”

“Couple’s counseling is for failing relationships.”

It is at that moment that Carlos knows he lost him. Whoever put that in his head- and Carlos’ money is on Owen- has won out over reasoning for right now. They don’t have to do that, of course, and if TK needs time to come around he can have it, but the mere suggestion has effectively shut down the conversation for now.

This is going to be a long road.

#tarlos #tk strand #carlos reyes #gwyneth morgan #emwrite #dysregulation!au #tuserjamie

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lesetoilesfous · 3 years

Note

Writing prompt: “You’re trembling.” for Fenders please! <3

Ah thank you!! <3 I hope you enjoy!

(If you’d like me to write you a dragon age fic, send me a prompt from here!)

@dadrunkwriting

Pairing: Fenders

Characters: Fenris, Anders, Isabela, Marian Hawke

Tags: past trauma, reference to past abuse, very oblique reference to past sexual abuse, flashbacks, panic attacks, Anders and Fenris get shoved down a well by templars and Anders gets flashbacks

Rating: Mature

“Think you’re so fucking clever, don’t you mage?” Ser Karras’ voice is sneering, and it bounces against the walls of the well down which he and his men had shoved both Anders and Fenris as he looms over the one remaining point of light far above them. “Some of my boys transferred from Kinloch. Felt like their knight commander had gone soft. Letting scum like you give them the run around. So I’m sure you’ll remember this.”

There’s a thunder clap of sound as Karras drops the heavy wooden cover over the well, and suddenly the light goes out. Anders screams, hurling himself against the cold, long since dried stone of this forgotten well in the foothills of Sundermount. It does nothing. He doesn’t care. He throws himself against the stone again and again until his knuckles are splitting and bloody and his whole body is aching with the bruising force of it.

When gauntleted hands land on Anders’ shoulders he recoils, falling back against the stone, feet skidding in the dust. The magebane is slowing his reactions, like alcohol without the warmth, and he can feels his emotions and his connection to Justice like a distant memory. Now there is only him, and the figure (Templar) in the dark with the steel hands. Anders turns away from it, feeling tears running hot and stinging down his cheeks as he tears at the stone until his nails split.

“LET ME OUT LET ME OUT LET ME OUT!” Anders screams until his voice hurts, beating his bloody hands against the stone, blinking against the dizzying darkness. Again, gauntleted hands catch in his clothes, firmer this time. Anders sobs, half heartedly pushing them away. The hands move, turning him, and Anders cowers. It was always worse when they wanted to kiss him.

He waits, shivering, for whatever the templar is going to do next. But nothing happens, and after a moment the throbbing pain of hands and arms begins to make itself insistently known at the front of his mind. Slowly, Anders forces himself to open his eyes, and they immediately burn at the sudden presence of light. He blinks the tears out of his vision and stares at the weaving, starlight patterns of lyrium in this person’s skin. Not a templar, then. Finally, Anders forces himself to look up, shaking, into a face he recognises.

Fenris is frowning at him. “You’re trembling.”

Anders tries to laugh, but manages only a wet sob. “Yeah, well.” He’s shivering so hard he feels like he could fall over. He remembers being this cold once (twice) before, when he was a child and one of the warming spells in the Circle had failed. All of the apprentices had climbed into each others’ beds to stay warm. They’d still lost three to the chill. One of them was six.

Fenris’ hands are still tight on Anders’ shoulders, and Anders doesn’t know how to explain that he needs them not to be. So instead he stands, and shakes. After a moment, Fenris huffs and pushes him to sit. Anders folds instinctively to his knees, and at that at last Fenris looks even more troubled, letting him go as if he’d been burned. Anders tries not to let his relief show, though he suspects by the expression on Fenris’ face that it does, anyway.

The well smells of old silt and dry stone, and it is at least an improvement on - Anders’ mind skitters away from the recollection. He cannot let himself go back there. The light of Fenris’ tattoos is barely keeping him in the present, and without Justice to help stabilise his sanity (an irony he would laugh at later), Anders has no intention of tempting fate.

After a long moment of heavy silence, Fenris says, softly, “Hawke will come.” He sounds certain of it. Anders tries to believe him. Fenris goes on, firmly, “She will notice that we are missing. So will Isabela. Neither of them are as foolhardy as they like to pretend.”

Anders hums. He can, at least, concede that. He’s shaking so hard his teeth are chattering. Fenris looks at him. His hair is silver in the reflected light of his tattoos, giving him a faint misty white halo like the moon in the dark. “That man - Karras - he mentioned Kinloch. This is the Circle you were raised in?”

Anders bites the inside of his cheek so hard it hurts and stares at the light of the tattoos on Fenris’ hands. “Unless you want me to go full on actual abomination, I suggest that we don’t go there.” Then he laughs, manic, suddenly, with fear, as he pulls at his hair and leans between his bent knees, back pressed against the stone of the well. “What am I saying. You’d love that. Yes, Fenris, he mentioned Kinloch Hold. Why?” Anders’ thoughts keep scattering from his grasp like frightened halla. He feels anxiety and rage and fear rolling through his body in great crashing waves of emotion. He can’t stop shaking, though he pulls hard on his hair in an effort to make his hands still.

Fenris is quiet for a long while, and Anders nearly regrets snapping at him - nearly offers him anything, if only he’ll break the silence again. But then Fenris does, and Anders tries not to wreep with the relief of it. “I would help you, if I may. You do not look well.”

Anders laughs, and again the sound is a manic thing that ricochets against the walls of the well, invisible under the velvet weight of deep shadow. “I’m fine.” Anders taps his forehead, “It’s the brain that’s broken. Not the body.” He pauses, examining his bloody, bruised hands and arms with a clinical eye. “Well. Not much.”

“Would it help to ask what happened?”

Anders can almost feel the weight of Fenris’ effort at patience, and he laughs again, feeling it bubble like fizzing alcohol on his tongue. “You don’t have to be nice to me, you know. Void, do whatever you want. If you stay lit up like that and don’t go quiet, I’ll do anything you say.” Anders hates how much he means it, and the frayed edge of desperation that bleeds into the words.

Fenris, for his part, turns a faint shade of green, and shakes his head. “Are you cold?”

It is cold, down here, thanks to the shadow and the depth. Anders shakes his head before Fenris touches him, the backs of his fingers resting against Anders’ forehead like a nurse’s. After a moment Fenris huffs and moves closer, shoulder pressing against Anders’. The steel of his armour presses into Anders’ skin, and Anders’ mind whirls with a disorienting jigsaw of memories. “Is this alright?” Fenris asks, gruffly.

“Armour.” Anders manages, tightly, and tries to ignore the weight of Fenris’ eyes on him for a long moment before the elf briskly, methodically strips out of his armour, even pausing to remove the gauntlets. When he returns to Anders, the warm curve of his bicep is interrupted only by the fabric of his shirt, and Anders’ body falls heavily against him despite his conscious mind.

Fenris seems surprised by that, too, because he lets out a small exhalation of air before moving to embrace him, carefully, strong arms wrapping around him and letting him rest against his muscular chest. Anders lets Fenris hold him, and feels, abruptly, utterly exhausted as the tension bleeds out of his body. It’s not dark. He’s not alone. There are no templars. Another beat of silence passes, in which Anders’ racing heart continues to slow to something resembling a regular pace. And then Fenris starts to hum.

Anders doesn’t recognise the tune at first. Fenris’ voice is so low his hum is more of a rumble, that sweetens into a melody the longer Anders listens. Anders feels his shoulders relaxing. Blindly, he reaches out for Fenris’ hand, winding their fingers together. To his faint surprise, Fenris lets him, and the lyrium tingles against his skin where it burns. Anders’ eyelids get heavier, and he feels himself slump further. Fenris’ voice is soft by his head when he speaks. “Sleep, mage. No harm will come to you here.”

Anders wants to say he doesn’t believe him. But the words get lost somewhere on his tongue, and then he’s falling into the darkness behind his eyes, and the dizzying worlds of the Fade.

“-ders! Fenris!” Anders wakes up with a headache. The first thing he notices is that his hands and arms are burning with a blistering, chafing pain. The second thing he notices is that he’s asleep on someone, who’s snoring gently. Or, at least, who was - Fenris wakes as quickly as Anders does, and moves him with hurried and surprising tenderness as he gets to his feet, shouting up to a blood-splattered Hawke.

“Hawke! We’re here!”

A moment later, a rope falls with a whip crack down into the well. Anders stares at it, and Fenris gestures him forwards. Anders can’t find the words to thank him for that, instead he curls his screaming knuckles around the rope and begins to climb. After far too long (he suspects he has fractured at least one bone), Anders feels fresh air on his skin, and then Hawke and Isabela’s hands are on him, and he’s being bundled into a warm, soft, curving body as Isabela hugs him so tightly it hurts. Behind them, Anders is distantly aware of Fenris climbing the rope too, but he’s distracted by Isabela squeezing him breathless and pressing kisses into his hair.

“Void, kitten, I’m so sorry. I swear, I’ll never let that happen to you again. Ever. I swear it.” Isabela’s hands are tight on him, and Anders realises abruptly that perhaps she had learned about his year in solitary after all. He doesn’t know what to think about that, but Isabela’s warm, muscular arms tight around his body are a welcome relief, and he doesn’t try to pull away. At least, until he hears the low rumble of Fenris’ voice behind him, and he pulls back a little from Isabela (her arm is still hooked tightly around his waist), to look over at the elf.

For a long moment, Anders’ tongue is tied. The wind howls over the heather on Sundermount, whistling around the mossy green cliffs of the mountain. Fenris’ hair pulls against his head, white as feathers, and his eyes are bruised with sleeplessness. Anders wonders how much effort he had spent, keeping his brands lit through the night. Finally, he finds his voice, “Fenris. Thank you.”

Fenris looks at him for a long moment. Then he ducks his head, and waves him off, turning away. “It was nothing, mage. You would have done the same for me.”

Anders isn’t sure he would have. But he thinks, as he watches Hawke and Fenris stride down the grassy slope to the templars’ bodies in the ruins of their campsite, he would do it, now. He will.

#dadwc #my fic #pinkfadespirit #fenders #fenris #anders #da2

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oneletteredwondered · 4 years

Text

Insulted

Sum: Virgil works at a coffee shop and Remus is annoying. Annoyingly pretty.

Pair: Virgil/Remus, Dukexiety

Written for @dukexietyweek! Day 4: Coffee (Shop)

Warnings: Lots of swearing, mentions of the word pedophile in reference to Remus’ mustache, insulting remarks towards customers, some awkwardy mild panic feels, mostly stupid interactions.

Roasted is a fairly popular coffee shop. If only for the tourist attraction aspect of it that the employees are allowed to be as mean as they want to you and insult you with every order. They’re snarky and rude, and unless they actually get your order wrong, which they don’t, they don’t apologize for shit. They’re delighted when new-comers enter the shop unaware of the rules.

And whatever deity believed in above help the poor soul who asks for the manager because they are worse than the employees with a wicked wit and sharper tongue.

The rest of the employees would be scared of the manager because of this, but they have seen the man have a panic attack over potentially not having enough straws for the day even after three separate employees offered to go to the store and buy some. They’ve also seen the manager cry because they saw a video of a spider that was too cute for words which renders him pretty unintimidating. Besides, the manager has always been on their side of an argument anyway.

It’s a slow day and Virgil knows Missy hasn’t been sleeping right, or eating right, or feeling like she’s been doing anything right. So he packs her a muffin and a hot chocolate, and tells her to fuck off on home for the day. She doesn’t say thank you but the relief is clear in her shoulders so he knows it was the right thing to do. Besides it’s dead right now and he can handle a few customers for the time being until another employee shows up.

He serves a few people, some very eager to be insulted, some coming in with gaudy outfits for the sole purpose of being insulted, he has fun with those.

“What do you want?” He asks the next person in line, not even looking up from the register.

“I’ll have a large cup of whatever you are.” The person says and Virgil narrows his eyes and looks up. He stares at the stranger for all of three seconds.

“You have a pedo mustache.” Is what he says. The stranger breaks into a wide grin.

“Why thank you!” They sound far too delighted by that. Virgil continues to glare at them while writing the word ‘pedo stache’ on a large cup.

“What do you want?” He asks again more forcefully. The stranger hums in thought and Virgil would snap at them for taking too long but they are the only one in line right now.

“Hello?? Hurry up?” Screw it. He snaps his fingers in their face. Stranger man gives him a wicked smile and Virgil hates the little lurch in his chest because holy fuck and wait stranger is actually kind of pretty. Even with a fucking thin line mustache. Their eyes are bright green and streaks of white are layered in their hair. And Virgil always was a sucker for people with piercings and this dude sure has some to spare.

“Well if you’re not on the menu, I’ll have the raspberry lime tea. Hot as you please,” They say. Virgil writes cold on the cup.

“Anything else you fucking weirdo?” Virgil asks cause seriously it is kind of rude to be flirting with employees while they’re working but in the worst way Virgil kind of likes it cause it means he can say shit like that.

“Oh shit uhm, fuck.” Stranger man says and Virgil glares at them. Both for not being ready and also he kind of likes the way they say fuck which is not what he was expecting to deal with today.

“Jesus Christ dude were you not ready to order like why are you wasting my time?” Virgil demands. A few patrons of the place snicker into their cups and stranger just smirks at him.

“Sorry I don’t have a brain to mouth filter and it gets worse when I see a pretty person,” They wink and Virgil glares harder to will away the attempt at a blush on his cheeks.

“What else do you waaaaant.” He whines at them. Stranger laughs and pulls out a piece of paper. Virgil can already see the long list of items on it and groans.

“Relax it’s all one order,” Stranger says and Virgil scoffs.

“That’s so much worse!” He says. Stranger laughs hard at that.

“Well it’s not mine, princess back at the office is a picky bitch.” Stranger says with comically wide eyes and Virgil hates himself for it but he snorts. He schools his face back to neutrally angry and refuses to give the stranger the satisfaction of seeing him smile just yet.

So stranger man rattles off a long winded order that Virgil groans at with every new direction. He can easily make the drink of course that won’t be hard but he can complain about it so he will. He writes ‘princess’ on this cup.

Stranger man pays and Virgil sets about making the drinks very aware of the other watching him from the waiting counter.

“You just gunna keep staring at me like a stalker or what?” Virgil snips at them, pausing for dramatic effect. Mustache dude grins at him and leans on the counter with his head in his hands.

“I like the view,” He says. Virgil makes a retching sound and keeps making the drinks in question. He does his damn best with them and hands them off.

“Get the fuck out of my establishment,” He says and turns away. Stranger laughs and takes his drinks.

“Thanks for the buzz baby!” He calls out as he exits. Virgil flips him off.

As soon as the dude is out of sight, Virgil collapses on the counter in a heap of nerves and embarrassment. The only reason he was able to keep his cool was because he could hide it behind a massive amount of snark and spite. But stranger man was super pretty and wild and Virgil almost wishes he did something about it.

“You okay?” Parker asks when they show up for their shift.

“Do I fucking look okay?” Virgil asks them desperately. Parker just laughs and that’s good enough of answer for him.

“Hello gorgeous!” Virgil snaps his head up from the counter he’s cleaning.

“Oh hell no,” He says and walks away from the front to the back office, leaving his employees to handle Mr Mustache in his stead. He can’t handle it right now. Not when they’re wearing a fucking leather jacket and wild smile. He just can’t do it. So he hides in the back for as long as he can. Which ends up being about a whole ten minutes.

“Uh boss man?” Virgil groans cause that’s him. He’s boss man. Fuck. He drags his hands down his face and looks over at Todd. Todd shifts from foot to foot.

“There’s uhm. I just. Can you-” They don’t have to finish. Mom friend override has been activated and Virgil is heading to the front no questions asked. It’s not a rush right now thank goodness, but they lady at the counter is giving her all in 'entitled customer'.

“This is an outrage, I want to speak to the manager.”

“The fuck you want bitch?” Virgil says without thinking. The lady gapes at him openly.

“This is the worst shop I have ever been in.” She says as if that’s supposed to hurt. Virgil shrugs at her.

“You’re the worst customer that’s ever been in, did you want coffee or not?” He asks her and she gapes again and walks out.

“Put another ten in the draw for walk outs.” Virgil tells Todd who beams and takes the money from the register to put in a jar near the back. Once it’s full they have a party of some kind.

“That was beautiful,” A voice says and Virgil whips around and comes face to face with Stranger Man over the counter. They’re smiling at him crookedly and Virgil's mouth drops because he was not prepared to see them here still or this close to him or so damn pretty.

“Fuck you,” Is his reflex response.

“When and where darling?” Stranger angles over the counter to leer at him and Virgil squeaks. Full on, flat out, squeaks in embarrassment. The entire room seems to pause and watch. Virgil is frozen in shock and stranger looks like he just saw light for the first time which is absolutely unfair.

Virgil dips, and dips hard. He spins on his heel to lock himself in the office. He makes it there only to realize he can’t handle being in such a small space with his anxiety overriding him. He snatches his jacket off the back wall and catches Todd’s eye before he slips out the back door and into open air.

Once outside he leans against the wall, puts his head in his hands, and lets out a very pitiful whine as he sinks to the ground. That has to be one of the softest things he’s ever done in regards to a customer in his life and it will haunt him for years to come he knows it.

He spends a few minutes running through his breathing exercises which goes directly to shit when he hears footsteps approaching.

“I’m fine Todd go back to work,” He snaps.

“The name’s Remus actually.” Virgil jolts and looks at the stranger standing over him. Stranger, or well, Remus, gives him a small sheepish smile and pulls at a random strand of his hair. Virgil sinks lower in on himself.

“You’re a lot different in and out of shop.” Remus says after a sufficiently awkward silence. Virgil grumbles and hides his face in his arms. His entire body tenses when he feels Remus slide to sit beside him.

“I am uh. Like, legit sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” Remus mutters. Virgil groans.

“I was not ready to deal with your stupid pretty face today.” He whines. Remus laughs at that.

“You think I’m pretty?” He asks and Virgil realizes his mistake in word choice. He glances up to Remus in panic cause now that he's admitted it, Remus looks even more pretty.

“Well I just- you know it’s- I don’t- Whatever!” Virgil word vomits all over the place. Remus continues to smile at him infuriatingly.

“Even with the pedo stache?” Remus continues to tease. Virgil decides he’s had enough and elbows Remus hard as he can. Remus lurches a little but he’s laughing. They lapse into an easier silence.

“Silver tongue ain’t so shiny out of work is it?” Remus asks him then but not meanly. Virgil snorts and covers his mouth with his hand to hide his smile.

“I have to get passed the awkward first,” He says. Remus hums in thought and snatches Virgil’s hand away from his face. Virgil lets out a dignified noise and snaps his jaw shut so hard it clicks when Remus places a kiss on his palm... then licks him.

“Gross what the fuck!” Virgil yanks his hand back and wipes off the slobber and decidedly not looks at Remus’s blinding grin.

“There! Now it’s not so awkward!” Instead of an answer, Virgil stands up and heads back inside the shop, leaving Remus cackling in the back. Virgil leans up against the door to hear him walk away and finds himself smiling at the interaction.

“Welcome to Roasted, or not welcome because we close soon I don’t actually care, what do you want?” Virgil is looking through receipts, making sure the till is all correct for the money they made today.

“I want your number.” Virgil freezes. He blinks dumbly at the papers in his hands and then up to Remus standing casually at the counter. His hands are in his pockets and he looks for the world unbothered but more subdued than Virgil has seen him before.

“Numbers not on the menu,” Virgil says dumbly in attempt to cover his frantic feelings. Remus shrugs and looks around the empty shop.

“Yeah but it’s what I want.” He says it so plainly. Virgil glares at him.

“Order something or get out.” That causes Remus to smirk. He orders a small tea and Virgil makes it silently, adding the receipt to the pile to check on. He pauses before handing the drink over, looking over his shoulder at Remus who is preoccupied with some of the decorative things on the walls. Virgil writes his number on the cup.

“Get your shit and get out,” He says and puts the cup on the counter, going back to his papers and ignoring the way his heart pounds in his chest at what he just did. Remus gives him a sad sort of look and leaves with his drink leaving Virgil wondering if he did the right thing.

Only for his stomach to swoop pleasantly when Remus swoops back into the shop 3 minutes later with a wild smile on his face and refuses to leave until they work out the plans for a dinner date.

“Go away.” Virgil greets.

“Never.” Remus smirks back at him.

#dukexietyweek2020 #virgil sanders #remus sanders #dukexiety #fic #my post

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kinkykinard · 3 years

Text

Four Minutes - Epilogue

Fandom: 9-1-1. Pairing: Buddie. Word Count: 2212. Genre: angst. Rating: Teen+. Summary: Eddie has a choice to make after nearly losing Buck in the explosion. Spoilers for 2x17 and 2x18. Warning(s): mentions of Buck’s injuries, minor medical details. Note: Back by popular demand, the thrilling conclusion to my first ever Buddie fic. Beta’d by @starshiphufflebadger. AO3 link here. Part 1 link here.

Four minutes was nothing in the grand scheme of things.

It had passed in the blink of an eye compared to what had followed, and as he sat beside Buck’s bed keeping silent vigil, Eddie was reminded of just how bad he was at waiting. Perhaps more accurately, how bad he was at knowing when to stop waiting.

He’d almost lost Buck earlier that night. He’d watched the truck get thrown up into the air and consumed by flames, looked on as Buck was ejected from the cab only to be stopped before he could roll too far as the ladder pinned him at the ankle. He’d heard the blast, Buck’s screaming, the exhausted whimpers of agony and the frighteningly quiet staccato of Buck’s tired heart as he’d assessed him afterward. Eddie had tasted blood when his anxiety had threatened to overwhelm him and he’d bitten his cheek to stop the tears that stung his eyes.

Eddie had waited. He’d waited for the rest of the team to arrive and accompany him into the hospital even though he’d wanted nothing more than to chase the trauma team through the sliding doors, to cling onto the stretcher and not let Buck out of his sight. He’d waited for news from the OR, a cup of bitter, burnt coffee cooling in his hand as the ticking of the clock on the wall nearly drove him mad. He’d waited, albeit feeling a little less wound up than he had before, after the surgeon had come to tell them Buck was going to pull through. He’d waited as Buck woke up in recovery, alone, and was transferred to a private room for observation. He’d waited as everyone else went in to see Buck, just for a moment, to wish him well until Buck was so tired out he fell into a deep sleep.

With everyone gone, Eddie made his way into Buck’s room. The nurse that came by to check Buck’s vitals shortly after Eddie had settled into a chair next to Buck’s bed looked like she wanted to shoo him off, but for whatever reason she thought better of it and left him to his vigil. He settled into the hard plastic chair next to the bed and knotted his fingers in his lap to quell the desperate urge to reach out and hold Buck’s hand.

As Buck slept, snoring softly, Eddie watched the saline in the IV bag over Buck’s bed drip slowly into the drip chamber, his mind far away. He thought about the last time he’d waited on something and about how much it had cost him. He’d waited for weeks to let Shannon back into Christopher’s life. He’d pushed her away, compartmentalized his feelings, avoided the difficult conversations. In the end, by the time he’d decided he was ready to face her, to face the future, she’d had enough of the waiting. She’d moved on without him, or perhaps in spite of him.

And then she’d died right in front of him.

But it was different with Buck. It was different, and it had the potential to wind up being far worse. With Shannon, Eddie had gotten his feelings out, had left things in her hands, had tried, and while it hadn’t absolved him of all of the hurt he’d caused her in the past, it had given him some measure of closure. With Buck, though, he hadn’t said a word. He hadn’t even hinted that he had anything more than platonic feelings for him. He’d never given himself the chance - given Buck the chance - to pursue anything.

And then Buck had nearly died right in front of him.

His PTSD reared its ugly head at the reminder; the thought that it was all happening again was a wake-up call that threatened to pitch him into a panic attack. Eddie gritted his teeth, staring determinedly ahead, knowing that if he so much as blinked he would see Shannon’s lifeless body; of Buck’s body in her place. He fought to keep his breathing steady, glancing up at the monitor screen over Buck’s bed to help himself focus. It was hypnotizing watching the rhythmic dance of waveforms on Buck’s ECG as they appeared and disappeared again, and eventually Eddie felt himself settle a little bit.

Buck was okay. He had a long road to recovery ahead of him, but he was okay, and Eddie was determined to be there for him, to walk that path with him. Eddie took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, turning his attention back to Buck. Buck’s features were slack, his lips slightly parted as he slept off the anaesthetic. He was breathing steadily and Eddie tried to breathe with him as a new and different but no less frightening set of emotions filled him.

Eddie’s heart nearly stopped as Buck made a soft groaning noise. He jumped to his feet, planting his hands on the railing beside Buck’s bed, waiting for him to wake up. He wanted - needed - Buck to know he wasn’t alone. Eddie hated how long he’d been forced to stand back before running in to help Buck back at the scene and he wasn’t going to let another moment go by with Buck feeling like there was no one there when he needed them.

Eddie waited tensely for a few moments, his gaze fixed on Buck, but nothing changed. Buck was still asleep, clearly having made the noise unconsciously. Eddie sagged, relieved that he could put off the conversation he needed to have for just a little bit longer. He’d made up his mind, he was going to tell Buck, but it didn’t mean he was comfortable with the notion just yet. He’d never been particularly good at being vulnerable, and opening himself up to anyone, even Buck, was terrifying.

After a few minutes passed without any change in Buck’s condition, Eddie sat back down, shifting the chair slightly so he was closer to the bed. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against the cool metal of the bed rail, closing his eyes. He was pleasantly surprised that instead of the horror show he was expecting to play out in his mind, there were some happy memories instead. The first time he’d seen Buck laugh the day they’d pulled the live grenade charge out of a man’s leg. It was the first time he’d seen Buck’s vulnerability, too. Sure, he could feel it rolling off the guy in waves with how threatened he’d been by Eddie’s mere presence at first, but the look they’d exchanged just before Eddie had grasped the ordnance to remove it had spoken volumes.

“Eddie?”

Eddie’s head snapped up at the sound of his name on Buck’s lips. He met the other man’s confused expression with a small smile, leaning in to help Buck focus through the morphine fog.

“Hey, welcome back,” Eddie said softly. “How’re you feeling?”

“Fuzzy,” Buck replied, slurring slightly.

Eddie chuckled, reaching out before he could stop himself to fix the neckline of Buck’s gown where it had come undone and was sagging. He thought it might’ve been his imagination, but he could have sworn Buck had relaxed back into the bed a fraction as Eddie’s fingers brushed his shoulder. Emboldened by Buck’s apparent trust, Eddie reached for Buck’s hand, giving it a squeeze. Buck smiled, his eyes drifting closed.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Buck murmured.

The words held so much meaning, but Eddie wasn’t ready to let himself hope that he was reading it correctly.

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be more than here right now,” Eddie assured him. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry.”

Eddie shook his head, still floored by Buck’s selflessness even though it was already one of the things he loved most about the other man.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Eddie chided him gently. “It wasn’t your fault. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Buck blinked a couple of times to clear his vision, glancing down at his splinted leg. He wiggled his toes, wincing as it caused pain to flare in his ankle.

“Mostly okay, anyway,” Buck amended.

As Buck turned to meet Eddie’s gaze, Eddie felt an uncomfortable swell in his vulnerability. He was looking for an excuse, any excuse, to look away when the IV pump next to the bed sounded an alarm, startling both of them. Taking the chance to break eye contact, Eddie let go of Buck’s hand and stood, popping open the infusion chamber on the pump and carefully tapping at a single small air bubble that had been obscuring the sensor. The pump fell silent again and Eddie closed the chamber back up, deciding to stay standing because it made him feel a little less claustrophobic.

Hazarding a glance down, Eddie found Buck watching him. Buck’s expression was thoughtful, calculating but blunted by the lingering cobwebs of the anaesthesia and pain medication. Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie saw Buck’s hand come up; a sign for him to take it again. Eddie chewed his lip for a moment before relenting and taking a seat again, reaching out once more for Buck’s hand.

“Are you okay?” Buck asked.

Eddie shook his head, smiling a little incredulously.

“You had a ladder truck dropped on your ankle a few hours ago and you’re asking if I’m okay,” he reiterated.

Buck shrugged, squeezing Eddie’s hand, stroking a thumb over the back of it.

“I can tell something’s on your mind,” Buck explained lightly. “My leg may be broken, but my empathy still works. What’s going on?”

Eddie set his jaw, glancing away for a moment again to strengthen his resolve. He wasn’t sure he could look at Buck when he said it. He didn’t think he could bear being face to face if Buck didn’t return his feelings. Reflecting back on everything that had happened that night, though, he borrowed strength from Buck’s show of courage, will, and resilience.

“This, all of it, scared me so badly because I didn’t know if you were going to make it, and that I wouldn’t get the chance to tell you,” Eddie said in a rush, his words nearly garbled by his haste to say them before his determination dried up. He hadn’t planned on leading with an outright confession when he finally found the courage to admit his feelings, but he’d been too shaken by nearly losing Buck to wait a moment longer or pussyfoot around. “I love you.”

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the suddenly faster chirping of Buck’s heart monitor. Eddie frowned, concerned by the new onset of tachycardia, his mind combing through possible causes for it - pain, pulmonary embolism, anaphylactic reaction to one of his medications. Buck squeezed his hand again, insistently, and Eddie forced himself to look Buck in the eye.

“You served multiple tours in an active war zone, you rappel down cliffs, you run into burning buildings when everyone else is running out,” Buck said, a quiet incredulity weighing on his words. “But you were afraid to tell me you love me?”

Eddie’s entire world nearly crashed down at that moment as Buck’s glaringly obvious failure to return the sentiment hung in the air between them. His own heart rate skyrocketed and a strong feeling of fight-or-flight gripped him. Buck’s soft, wordless noise of disbelief did nothing to help his nerves.

“Eddie,” Buck said so softly that Eddie thought he might crack. “I love you, too.”

Eddie couldn’t hear anything over the rush of his own heartbeat in his ears for a moment as Buck’s words registered. It took him several long seconds to process what just happened and when he did, he could barely believe it.

“Yeah?” He asked, his voice reedy, strained.

Buck chuckled, propping himself on an elbow in an attempt to get closer to Eddie.

“Yeah,” he assured him emphatically. “Yeah.”

The tears came then and Eddie had not been expecting them. Relief wasn’t something he was used to crying over, but he hadn’t realized until that moment the enormity of the weight that had been on his shoulders as he’d carried those words unsaid around with him. He laughed softly, almost slightly hysterically, and let out a long, shaky breath.

“Come here,” Buck said gently, patting the bed beside him.

Eddie didn’t need to be asked twice. He stood, letting go of Buck’s hand just long enough to drop the bed rail before perching himself on the edge of the mattress. Buck’s palm landed on his thigh, its weight warm and grounding, and Eddie covered it with a hand of his own. They sat in a companionable silence for a while, Buck’s eyes fluttering closed as the exhaustion from the day’s events caught up with him and Eddie watching him closely, memorizing his face, the moment, replacing the fear and anxiety from earlier with something decidedly better.

“Glad we had this talk,” Buck said thickly a while later, his head lolling as the morphine reared its head again.

Eddie chuckled, reaching out to tuck Buck’s blankets in around him to keep him comfortable while he slept. He reached up, brushing a loose curl away from Buck’s forehead, trailing his fingertips down Buck’s cheek, cupping his face gently.

“Me too.”

#9-1-1 Fox #9-1-1 fanfiction #Buddie #Evan Buckley #Eddie Diaz

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angelicamerlinbarnes · 3 years

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TUA DISNEY AUs: Big Hero 6 (Pt. XVIII)

(please understand that by AU, I mean they share an incredibly small amount of things in common with the original source material which I barely remember BUT the “story” takes place in the setting of the film) (not to be misleading or anything :p)

(BEWARE: abuse, murder, corruption, mental health issues, unhealthy coping mechanisms, suicidal ideation, death, grief, violence, basically i took the sad montage after Tadashi dies and just kept going with that except without the whole "getting better" thing, sorry, my bad, enjoy anyway i guess i don't know, bye, etc.)

(If you can handle watching Umbrella Academy, this will be fine for you.)

(Hiro) Vanya hasn’t much of a head for science - not since a gas explosion in her childhood apartment killed her parents and exposed her to radiation, leaving her brittle-boned and sickly. She spends most of her days holed up in her room, reading and writing about every little thing she sees and hears and feels. There’s this cat in the alleyway she feeds sometimes, and her friend Ben who comes by to see how she is every few days. The only time she goes out is for school, or bot fights down in the bad neighborhoods. At those she gets to see Ben, and his partner Klaus and his friend Diego. Oh, and Sissy - the beautiful, shy punk girl who spins the records in the corner store. Vanya lives what she considers a pretty average life - until Ben dies, she screams, and all the windows around her shatter from nothing.

(Tadashi) Ben has been a science nerd for years, spending hours in the libraries and labs researching every little thing that catches his fancy. His partner, Klaus, has no such interest, having more of a head for poetry, but Ben loves him more than life itself - especially since Klaus was the only person who stuck with him when one of his experiments went wrong a few years ago, resulting in tentacles that are prone to ripping out of his chest when he’s angry. And since he loves Klaus so much, he spares not a second thought to running back into a burning building to get him back, even when it means certain death. And Ben knows you can’t bring back the dead - he tried when Klaus’ beloved boyfriend Dave died in a gunfight a few years back. Once you’re gone, you’re gone - or so he thinks until he wakes up and Klaus starts crying and muttering, You’re here, you’re here, you’re here, I did it, I did it, I did it - and Ben reaches out and thinks, Oh, no, sweetheart. You didn’t.

(Honey Lemon) Allison was engaged to Ray before he disappeared, but even after that failed experiment lost her the love of her life, she continued to work for the forward movement of science and kept her vow of love to Ray. Using her research, she managed to create a pill that allowed her to bend reality, hoping to bring back Ray. Though she couldn’t raise the dead - no amount of I heard a rumor Ray was alive again worked - she won herself other advantages with her newfound powers, including sponsors, knowledge, opportunities, and protection. Klaus, Diego, Five, and Ben are her only true friends in this world - and she nearly loses all of them when Ben dies, drowning in their grief. When Luther, one of Five and Ben’s passion projects starts hanging around to monitor their mental health, Allison finds a new kind of love - deep, ever-lasting friendship that she’ll never give up. Even when they have to leave him behind on the moon after they save Ray, she doesn’t let him go - she finally knows how to speak up for what she wants, and speak up she does: I heard a rumor that Luther came back to me.

(Fred (actually a mash-up of Honey Lemon and Hiro though to be honest)) Klaus is a starving artist and poet, and he's covered in tattoos of his own words and drawings. Diego is too, because Diego loves him, and Klaus wants to love him back and probably does already, if he’s really honest with himself, but he’s not ready yet. Dave happened too soon ago. And then there was a fire, and Klaus was running around outside, looking for Ben, looking for the platonic love and light of his life, and he saw him run inside screaming Klaus’ name and never come back out. And he lives with that guilt every day, smoking and drinking all the bad shit again in an effort to just forget, forget, anything goddamn anything to forget, and he goes crazy. People forget, because he’s not a student at their nerd school and because he acts like a dumbass, that Klaus is actually just as much a genius as the rest of them, and whatever he wants, he can get without much trouble. So what if he can’t bring back the dead? He won’t live without Ben, he won’t, and he won’t leave Diego - which leaves only one option, really: find a way to make himself see ghosts.

(Wasabi) Diego lives a charmed life. Truly. He’s almost been assassinated fifteen fucking billion times, his two best friends are robots, and he’s in love with a person too sad to love him back. See, Diego’s skills brought him to the military’s special attention - he found a way to make weaponry that doesn’t obey the laws of physics. He keeps it as secret as he can, and will sell it to nobody, but millions of people are still after it. It’s not until one of the assassins almost nails Klaus with a bullet and Diego kills her with a store-bought kitchen knife without moving that he realizes the weaponry he created isn’t special, but Diego is. From then on it’s nothing but trouble - because Klaus likes to dumb himself down, but he can’t fool Diego, and so when he starts screaming at empty air and calling it Ben, Diego isn’t surprised in the least, though maybe he should be. Instead he just sighs, opens his arms, and lets a sobbing Klaus fall into him, loving him more than he did yesterday and less than he will tomorrow. Diego has his home, and he has his people, and he has his powers - and he will defend them to the fucking death.

(Gogo) Five is bitter and grumpy, living off coffee and perpetually crazy. He’s brilliant enough to have done surgery on himself, implanting an AI pacemaker in his heart named Dolores from an accident that nearly stripped him of everything, his life included. He was born with special powers, both of which fuelled his fascination with science, but he keeps that secret close to his chest - he’s seen what people do to Diego and Allison, and he has no interest in that. He’s close with the others, somewhat, though his impassable genius makes it difficult for people to understand him - Diego gives him piggy back rides and he often falls asleep curled into Klaus’ side, and Allison gives him rides home and Ben builds robots with him. But as hard as he finds it to connect with them, it’s even harder to lose them - so when he realizes he can use his time travel powers to save Ben, he doesn’t hesitate. And then he’s dying in Klaus’ arms, and he’s watching as his favorite person in the world chooses to lose the love of his life all over again to save Five, and something deep inside him changes.

(Baymax) Luther is a medical robot, built by Five and Ben in their spare time. There are some videos in him, mostly of Ben talking to Klaus because Luther was meant to be a gift for Klaus to help him with his depression, anxiety, PTSD, anorexia, and addiction, etc.. Five adds grief counseling to his programming and gives him to Klaus on his first birthday after Ben’s death, making Klaus dissolve into tears. While Luther clashes with Diego, who hates him for surviving where Lila didn’t, they get along well enough to appease Klaus, because Luther knows Klaus loves Diego and Diego knows Luther helps Klaus. When they travel to the moon to get Ray, Luther winds up stuck there, unable to get the others home if he doesn’t stay behind. Klaus and Allison both have trouble letting him go, but Klaus forces Allison to come home with him, crying as he leaves Ben for the third and final time. When Allison brings Luther back, his videos still intact, Klaus touches Ben’s face on his chest and cries, cries, cries.

Lila is a malfunctioning masterpiece, and Diego’s best friend. He made her as a help robot, but she’s a prototype, and was rejected for her proneness to violent outbursts and catatonic episodes. She’s easy to manipulate, as Diego never bothered to fix her security protocols, but it’s not like there’s anyone else who talks to her - except Five, and he’d never touch her programming without Diego’s explicit permission. She sleeps at Diego’s house, in her charging station next to Eudora’s. Lila knows robots can’t feel love, so that isn’t what she’s feeling - but her wires are tied to Eudora’s in some way, she just knows it. They’re two halves of the same code. But she never gets to explore that link - she burns away to nothing in the fire that destroys the Handler’s minions, using the last of her strength to save Five from the flames. She hopes, when Diego finds his baby brother curled in her charred corpse, that he’ll bury her in the rain, and keep on living without her well enough.

Eudora is a suicide-prevention robot. Seriously. That’s all she’s here for. Ben and Diego built her together for Klaus specifically, programming her with some of his favorite jokes and references so she’d have an easier time talking him down from the edge when one of them can’t be there. She’s programmed to instantly call Ben, Diego, Five, or Allison immediately if she finds him doing dangerous things, like playing with Diego’s knives naked. (It happened one time. Seriously. True story.) She’s calm and gentle, unruffled and kind, and Diego often spends hours talking to her, because she may be programmed for Klaus but she can still help anyone who needs it. He nearly looses her to Cha-Cha, but Klaus saves her just in time, beating Cha-Cha to a steaming hunk of scrap metal with a baseball bat for trying to hurt his best (robot) friend. She’s not saddened by Lila’s death, per say, she can’t be… but when she’s downloading databases on panic and anxiety attacks for Diego and Klaus, she makes sure to save some on insomnia for herself, too.

Sissy is a botfighter, one who dresses in a black and magenta punk aesthetic to fend off strangers, too shy for the world. She messes around with Vanya, the two of them often dancing in the rain and finding joy in the small moments, but happily ever after was never in the cards for them. Sissy lives with her abusive boyfriend Carl and has their son to take care of, an accident from too many beers - when Carl murders her in a drunken rage, it’s less of a surprise and more of a solemn inevitably. Her son, Harlan, is placed in Vanya’s care, and Vanya travels the world with him, telling him everything about his mother she knows. It’s a bittersweet ending, but a hopeful one too.

Ray was a student at the nerd school before he became a therapist, using his incredible mind-healing technology to help people all over the world. Allison fell in love with him quickly, easily, and the two were engaged before the year was up, planning for a spring wedding in which Klaus would, obviously, be the flower girl. But when he was offered the chance to go to space as a therapist for the other nine people on the mission, he jumped at the chance, bidding Allison goodbye and heading to the moon. But something went wrong and he was lost to the world, along with the other nine astronauts, all of whom died when the ship crash-landed. Ray has been in a coma for years there, having been knocked out in the explosion, and remains that way until Luther brings him home, Allison having come for him at last. (When he’s well enough to, he takes care of Five, Klaus, and Diego, whose mental states have been steadily declining for years. Their robots are brilliant, of course, but there are some things you just need a human for.)

Reginald is the dean of the nerd school and also an asshole. He has a habit of killing students when they get in his way, or to steal their inventions as his own - and he gets away with it too, because he’s at the forefront of memory technology and quite literally erases these people from existence so nobody comes asking questions. Plus he’s got connections in the government that destory any records he needs destroyed. He had a couple of kids he wanted to get rid of the night of the showcase, and started the fire to make it seem like an accident - well, Ben actually was an accident, he wasn’t on Reginald’s hitlist, not yet, but whatever. It is what it is. What Reginald doesn’t anticipate is Klaus - because nobody ever anticipates Klaus - and so he thinks nothing of it when he confesses to Ben’s murder in his monologue in front of all his former students. He can just erase their memories later. Or so he thinks, until Klaus lets out a savage war cry and lunges forward to strangle him, killing him in cold blood without a second thought, and so is the end of Reginald Hargreeves. (Five takes the fall for his murder - not that it matters. Diego and Klaus break him out and the three of them disappear, never to be seen again - at least, not until Allison’s done manipulating every single person in the world into forgetting it ever happened on live TV.)

The Handler is Reginald’s finest invention: a flawless AI in a perfect human body. Problem is, she became bored of being his servant years ago and took over his life, blackmailing him into doing whatever she wants. Most of the killings are still his idea, and Ben certainly wasn’t her fault, but it’s the Handler who wants Five dead, and it’s the Handler who sends her reject minions after him. She wants Eudora dead and she wants Klaus deader, but she gets neither - Five finds her and hacks her into little tiny pieces, putting all of them in a fire and then shoving those ashes into an Iron Maiden, dropping the Handler to an inescapable grave. Fuck her “life”.

Hazel is a teddy bear with a security camera in his stomach. He sits on Agnes’ counter in her donut shop, just watching the goings-on even though nobody ever steals anything there. Mostly he’s held in the lap of Five, who comes into Agnes’ whenever he doesn’t want his friends to see him cry - over a failed invention, Klaus’ most recent suicide attempt, Lila’s death - whatever, you name it. Agnes takes care of him, making him milkshakes when he asks for coffee, and eventually sends Hazel home with him, asking him to take care of Five for her. He doesn’t know it’ll be the last time he ever sees her - two weeks later Agnes is killed by Reginald and her donut shop is ransacked by looters. Her memory lives on in Hazel and Five, who rebuilds and reopens the shop with Klaus and Diego and Allison after a couple years, renaming it for Ben and living on despite his grief, and Hazel sits on the counter again, watching the sunset through the glowing windows.

Cha-Cha was supposed to be one of those “oh-hey-we’re-not-racist-anymore-we-make-black-dolls-too-see?” Barbies. She ended up with a rather experimental kid who enjoyed robotics and horror films, resulting in Cha-Cha: an AI in a Barbie with chainsaw arms. She kidnaps Klaus under the Handler’s orders, as he’s a connection to Five (who the Handler wants to kill) and Ben (who’s the only connection to Reginald and the Handler’s murders). This backfires spectacularly, of course, when Eudora and Diego come for him: Cha-Cha goes for Eudora’s throat and Klaus breaks himself free of his binds and beats her to smithereens with a baseball bat.

Leonard used to hang around Vanya, just generally assaulting her and being a creep, until suddenly he disappeared one rainy Monday never to be seen again. His body was found rotting in a lake a couple years later. It was revealed later on that he had decided to and succeeded in making real-life replicas of the Five Nights at Freddie’s characters, and they hadn’t been too fond of him trying to boss them around. The Handler recruited the replicas later on for her own schemes, and they followed Reginald rather well, their appetite for people satisfied well enough. But Leonard remains the school legend, and a striking reminder to be careful what monsters you let live.

Grace is the queen of the Land of the Remembered, and you may be wondering what she’s doing in this story. Well, to put it simply - Reginald’s little games have been messing with her shit. There are perfectly kind and memorable people who have come down to her only to be erased in the Land of the Living within the week, leaving her no choice but to take them in as refugees, working out a deal with the Land of the Forgotten since they weren’t given a fair shot at their deserved afterlife. She takes care of Ben when he dies for the second and final time, appearing to assure Klaus he’ll be alright when he crosses over. This is when Diego finally learns the truth about his mom, who has always been home in time to make dinner and never missed a single milestone, and who is apparently also an all-powerful goddess. She gives him a hug and tells him his boyfriend is cute (He’s not my boyfriend.) (You’re holding hands, darling. You may be an oblivious idiot, but I’m not.) and then she heads off, though she’s always back with Ben for the holidays. (Not Lila, unfortunately. She has no jurisdiction over robots.)

And Hiro is ace-aro and he and Miguel are QPPs, and Honey Lemon and Wasabi are QPPs, and Fred and Wasabi are dating, and Gogo is an bisexual aro queen with a girl she likes to kiss in the back alleyways, and Hiro has two sisters named Violet and Boo and Tip is his ace-aro lab partner. You’re welcome.

#tua #the umbrella academy #big hero 6 #disney #the hargreeves & friends #kliego #ralluther #eudorla #vanya x sissy #five &x dolores #klaus &x ben #hazel x agnes #hazel & cha cha #i don't know this is really sad and really dark #whatever #my bad #have a nice day y'all #bye

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nicb0723 · 4 years

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Find Your Worth

John Wick x Reader

Summary: You meet John in an unconventional way.

Notes: Depression trigger warning

Word Count: 11,754

Read Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Before work you go grocery shopping and run some errands. You clean up a lot and wonder how the hell John’s personality will fit in your tiny apartment. He doesn’t say much but he can be so intense. You can’t imagine the two of you together, alone, in this tiny space.

In the bathroom you hesitate as you pick up your prescription. The doctor thought it would take the edge off your anxiety, and make the depression manageable. She also made sure you were seeing someone for therapy. For now, the pill once a day does work. You can breathe. You can function. You’d be a fool to think all of your problems would disappear overnight. You still have a long road of recovery ahead, but this makes it less overwhelming. You place the little plastic container in the medicine cabinet, somewhere John won’t see it. You wouldn’t put it past him if he snooped, but in a way you're proud that you were able to talk about your problems and get some help.

At work Sam is with you and currently making fun of your limp after you tell him why there’s a bruise on your foot. He’s asking if you want him to go buy you a cane when John waltzes in, hair slicked back and suit jacket blowing from the wind. How someone can look like a model in a gas station you’ll never know. He stares until you go to him and ask what the hell he’s doing here.

“Getting gas.” He answers and reaches for his wallet.

You don’t say anything and ring him up, glancing outside to his car parked in spot one.

Sam is watching you two interact and he has the biggest grin on his face. Is that your boyfriend? He mouths behind John’s back and you cough in shock. No, and yeah right, like you could ever get a guy like John in a million years.

“Hello!” Sam says loudly and teasingly bumps your hip with his behind the counter.

John raises an eyebrow and glances to you first, then nods to Sam. “Hi.”

“John, this is Sam my co-worker and Sam, this is John my um… friend?”

True surprise flickers in John’s brown eyes and he looks pleased, a slow small smile spreads on his lips.

“She’s actually my boss, but nice to meet you.” Sam says and his attention is drawn to the classic car outside and the gushing begins.

You let the two of them talk until you hear John offer to show him the engine and they both move to go outside. “Hey, I’ll see you later?”

Sam smirks and you nod at John, wondering how he knows where you live. It’s a little weird that he broke into your place just to fix a leaking faucet and he was in your apartment without you even knowing. In the back of your mind, you think that it’s actually pretty thoughtful. You mindlessly wonder why he would waste his time though. Why he would do any of the things that he did. He said that he would help anyone in the same situation as you, but you’ve been thinking about that question since the day at the lake, and you’re too scared to ask him. You’re scared to see the look on his face, the look of pity because that’s all you can think that he’ll say.

You hear John’s car peel away and Sam comes back inside, still grinning like an idiot.

“What?” You ask, not really wanting to know.

“Nothing.” Sam hops up on the counter and he knows he’s not supposed to sit there. “I think he likes you.”

“And what makes you say that.” You deadpan, pushing at his butt with the tip of your pen.

Sam slides down and knocks over a display of gum. “He told me to look out for you.”

“Oh yeah? I can see you’d be very threatening.” You point to the packs of gum all over the floor.

He bends down and starts to pick up the mess. “What’d you need looking out for anyway?”

“Nothing, he's just being protective I guess.”

Sam looks at you with concern. “From what?”

“Nothing. I promise, okay?”

For the rest of the night Sam shows you his karate moves and chops up air until closing time.

John is folded up in the corner of your couch with his legs crossed at the knees and his black leather shoe tapping your coffee table. He’s reading one of the old magazines you have laying around.

“How was work?” He asks, folding the magazine shut, like this is the most normal thing in the world.

You check the locks on your door to see if they’re broken, but they’re not. You turn the handle again to make sure the door is shut all the way.

“I should probably give you a key if you’re going to let yourself in.”

John shrugs. “If you want.”

Tossing your purse on the kitchen table you make your way to the living room and sit on the chair across from the couch. John looks so out of place, but you can tell he’s trying to blend in, make himself belong in your little apartment.

“Who’s taking care of your dog while you’re here?” You ask, kicking your feet up.

“Pooch? The little girl next door. She loves him.”

You let out a surprised laugh. “Don’t tell me you actually named him Pooch. I don’t even think that’s an actual word, I think my grandma made it up.”

John shrugs again you can tell he’s definitely not a man to waste any words. “It stuck. It’s... cute.”

“Cute? I can’t see you thinking anything is cute.” You grin and stand up to take your jacket and shoes off to get more comfortable. You can hear him mutter something under his breath, but can’t catch it. “So do we know if Max is officially out yet?”

“No, I’m waiting for the call though. I’ll know as soon as it happens.”

You don’t have any doubt. “Do you want something to eat or drink?” You open the refrigerator for some juice. ”I usually have a snack when I get home. Feel free to take anything you want.”

John tries to settle back on the couch but he seems stiff. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“You can take off your tie and your jacket at least. You’ll probably be here for awhile.” You call out to him, your head sticking in the cupboard looking for the popcorn you put in there earlier.

John doesn’t move and you gesture for him to get up as you crawl back in your chair with a bag of food.

“You sure about that?”

“Yes of course I’m sure. Why would I not be sure?” You look at him like he’s crazy as he slowly stands and oh… that’s why.

The suit jacket comes off and he carefully lays it over the side table. His slender waist is circled with a large utility belt with three guns, two clips, and probably a knife. The sight makes your eyes widen. He stares at you as he slowly unfastens the buckle and gently places it on top of his jacket.

“Don’t go near that.” He points sternly and sits back down, this time more comfortable. He takes his cell phone out of his pocket and sets it on the couch next to him.

“Definitely not. Are you planning on using any of that?”

“Scare tactic.”

Silence fills the room as you crunch on your popcorn and you’re actually feeling pretty tired. You’d like to go to bed, but you’re not sure what John’s plans are exactly.

“So how is this going to happen?” You ask. “Are you going to come to work with me too? Are you going to run my errands with me? I mean, I’d love the company but I don’t see you wandering around Target for an hour.”

“I don’t mind going to Target with you.” His voice is so serious you can’t help but smile. “I don’t think he’ll come around during the day though. He wants you alone. Scared. Vulnerable. And I have my cop friend keeping an eye on you at work. It’s on his beat anyway.”

“Okay.” That all sounds reasonable. Dread and doubt suddenly take hold of you. “Look, maybe I’m wrong? Maybe he won’t bother with me and we can just forget about it? Maybe there’s nothing to worry about at all.”

John shakes his head. “I read his record. It’s not good.”

Well, crap. You don’t want to talk about Max anymore and you don’t want to ask the one question that’s been hounding your mind. You’re still too scared to know the reason John is here, so you ask something else. “Are you ever going to sleep? You can’t stay up all night waiting.”

“I’ll sleep until I know he’s out.” John says easily. “Then after that I have motion detection alerts on my phone from the camera outside your floor.”

You blink at him. “There are cameras on the door of the elevator?”

“There are now.”

“How’d that happen?” You’ve never noticed any security cameras anywhere.

“I talked to Francis, the apartment manager. He’s a nice guy.”

You blink at him again. “I know, but he only speaks Russian. How’d you talk to him?”

John smirks and says, “Bez truda.”

It’s all a little too much and you get up, shaking your head in disbelief. “How is this my life right now? How do I get myself into these things? I have an assassin in my apartment… I’m going to take a shower!” You announce after a minor anxiety attack. “Feel free to turn on the TV, get comfortable, whatever you want.”

The water feels good as you scrub away the day. It relaxes you until swarming thoughts of John sitting on your couch make you hurry out of the tub and wrap yourself in the flannel bathrobe you always wear. Before you lose your nerve you walk back into the living room and find John where you left him, now looking at his phone.

“They’re just starting to process paperwork. That means it’ll be a few hours.” John’s talking, but doesn’t look up. You start to brush your wet hair out and twist it loosely on top of your head for the night. Usually you’d smear face cream all over but that obviously is not going to happen.

“Look, John. I know we hardly know each other, but you can sleep in the bed, okay?” You start to turn off the kitchen lights and check the front door one more time to make sure it’s locked. “It’s plenty big enough and I would just feel better.”

He’s looking at you with warm eyes now, his mouth open but nothing is coming out. It’s like his brain turned a switch and decided something important. Whatever he’s thinking must be big because his whole demeanor changes. You can’t quite figure it out, but he seems content to be here with you, where just a few moments ago he had a guard up and was struggling with something on his mind. Somehow and unknowingly, you sense that you’ve just started to break down his wall. You have no idea what you did, you’re just being yourself, but for the first time John is vulnerable. He’s blinking slowly, as if he’s seeing you for the first time in a new light, or finally giving himself permission to really see you.

It doesn’t matter though, because you know you look like a complete dork in your bathrobe and suddenly you feel incredibly stupid. Shame floods your stomach and you almost feel sick. Of course, this man wouldn’t want to be in the same bed as you. He’d probably rather die. You can’t believe you even suggested it. Also, your therapist would be terribly disappointed in you for talking down to yourself like this.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

He stands up and grabs a small leather bag you hadn’t seen by the widow. “Yes. If it’ll make you feel safer.”

No. No. That’s not how you wanted it to happen. You wanted John to want to sleep in the bed, not because you asked him. “Listen, I didn’t mean… I’ll take the couch, okay? You probably don’t want to share the bed with me, I totally understand. And you’re doing me a favor and I just want you to be comfortable.”

Utter confusion crosses his handsome face. He scratches at his beard with long fingers, trying to make sense of what you want. “What good would that do? With you sleeping on the couch?”

You stammer and can feel a flush develop on your cheeks. “I just thought… I don’t know.”

“If you rather, I can book you a room in a hotel for a few nights. I won’t… do anything to you. I can promise you that.”

Oh God. This conversation could not get any worse. You’re horrified that he thinks something like that and you try terribly to explain. “No, no that’s not what I meant. I don’t want to go to a hotel. I just meant that um, you probably don’t want to share a bed with someone like me.”

“Someone like you?”

The flush is creeping up to your neck as you become more embarrassed. You point at your bathrobe and general dorkiness. “Yeah, like someone… not… exactly… uh… cute?”

He seems to realize what you’re trying to say and laughs a little. “Well it’s a good thing there’s no one not cute in this apartment. I don’t know how I could ever sleep.” He walks towards you and gently tucks the hair that had fallen in your eyes behind your ears. It’s very intimate and you feel yourself start to smile. “Can we go to bed now?” He moves his arm out for you to lead the way and you feel silly. John is a nice guy. Even if he really didn’t want to sleep in the same bed as you, he probably still would because it’s what you wanted.

“Yeah, sorry.” You mumble and walk into the bedroom with him following. There’s not much clutter and it’s pretty bare besides the newly bought self help books on the nightstand and regular girly stuff littered on the dresser. John throws his bag on the floor and you grab some pajamas for yourself, heading to the bathroom to change.

When you come back John is wearing a white t-shirt and soft blue sleep pants. He’s incredibly adorable and you can’t believe your luck of having him in your room right now. He must’ve grabbed his phone and weapons because they’re both on the nightstand on his side of the bed.

He looks you up and down in your tank top and shorts as you plop on the mattress, quickly getting under the covers.

“This okay?” He asks and points to his own clothes. Was he expecting for you to want him to sleep in his suit?

“Yeah of course. But... can you fight in pajamas?” You wrinkle your nose and tease him. “That’s not very assassin-y.”

He barks out a laugh and lays down, but he doesn’t get under the sheets. His feet are bare and long, and you keep peeking at his toes. “I think it’ll be fine.”

You roll over and face him. He’s looking up at the ceiling with his arms crossed behind his head.

“I can’t believe you’re here right now.”

He doesn’t move. “Why?”

Your eyes start to become heavy and you watch his chest move up and down in slow rhythmic breaths. “People don’t usually do nice things for me. I’m used to being on my own.”

With that he shifts on his side, towards you. His hair falls in his eyes and you long to brush it away. “I can tell.”

“I don’t like asking for help.”

“You never asked me for anything.” John points out. There’s plenty of space between the both of you and flop your arm towards his side, pointing at him teasingly.

“Oh, I distinctly remember asking you to do one very specific thing and you failed.”

He squirms from the quick stabs of your pointer finger at his ribs. “I don’t know, I think things turned out pretty perfect.”

You scoff and roll to your stomach now, sliding your arms under the pillow. “Perfect? Yeah right, I’m sure this is the last place you want to be.”

“It is perfect. This bed is very comfortable.” John finally gets under the blankets and you giggle sleepily. His cologne is stirred by his movement and you savor the spicy smell.

“It’s new. I got a raise at work. I’m an assistant manager now.” You tell him proudly, even though you know it’s not that big of an accomplishment.

“Oh excuse me, Miss Assistant Manager.” John smiles and acts extremely impressed. “Congratulations, by the way. I should take you out to celebrate.”

You have no idea if he’s serious or not so you just laugh and snuggle down more into the bed. After a minute you ask, “Do you think Max will come tonight?”

John pauses, thinking. “Hard to say. He doesn’t have a good past. He has friends in high places who will probably help him. How’d you meet a guy like that anyway?”

“How is that you know my name, where I live, my phone number, where I work, what car I drive… literally everything about me and you don’t know that?”

John brushes the hair from his eyes and you can see the tan line around his ring finger has started to finally fade. “That’s just part of the job.”

“Fixing leaking water faucets is part of being an assassin?” You ask, teasing again.

A sweet pink flush spreads on John’s cheeks. “Shush.”

“That’s what I thought.”

He pretends to glare. “Maybe it is. You don’t know.”

“You’re right, I don’t know.” You yawn and let your eyes fall close. “Can I tell you tomorrow though? I’m gonna pass out.”

You hear the click of the side lamp turn off and you want to stay awake, to soak in this moment a little more but sleep is overpowering and you drift off into a peaceful rest.

Until about two o’clock in the morning, and then you start to toss and turn. You swear there’s a noise out in the living room but you also know you’re probably being paranoid. You can see the shape of John’s body just a few inches away and you want to reach over to him.

“Hey.” He whispers and his voice startles you still. “Are you okay?”

“No.” You sit up a little and look towards your bedroom door. There’s a stream of light from the street lamps coming in through the window, but other than that it’s dark. “I thought I heard something.”

“It was just the air kicking on. You’re fine.”

“Are you sure?”

You feel John’s palm rest on your arm and squeeze. “Positive.”

“Is he out? Did you get a text or anything?”

“Hey, don’t worry about anything, okay? I promise you’re safe.”

You fall back on the bed with a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“Don’t be sorry.”

You're wide awake and this whole situation is baffling. John Wick is in your bed, squeezing your arm and comforting you.

“Isn’t being an assassin illegal?” You blurt out, the darkness giving you courage, and you instantly regret asking the question because he pulls away.

“It’s the only thing I’m good at.” He says quietly. “Trust me, I tried to retire and I got sucked back in somehow. People seem to want only me for really hard jobs.”

“Couldn’t you get arrested or something if you got caught? Could I get in trouble with you being here?”

“No. Sometimes cops need bad guys to go away too. You won’t get in trouble.”

“Oh.”

“Feel better now?”

“Yeah. Sorry, I just don’t always get myself into the best situations. I feel really safe with you, I just…” You don’t meet an assassin everyday. You have no idea what it really means.

“It’s fine.”

“I don’t want to offend you.”

He laughs softly and his fingers brush the back of your arm now. “Nothing you ever ask will offend me. It’s actually quite refreshing. I just hope…”

You wait for him to finish, but he seems to be gathering his thoughts and you don’t want to rush him.

“I hope you can think of me as a friend before an assassin. And I hope that I don’t scare you.”

“I don’t scare easily.” You mumble and yawn, glancing back to your bedroom door. You ignore the friend comment because you feel like you’ve already been through hell and back. You don’t know if you could consider John as a friend and then lose him someday. It might break you all over again. But then you think of how far you’ve come. “I could probably take Max. I could get him to leave me alone now that I have my mind straight.”

“You think so?” John is sincere and you can hear he’s happy at your mental growth.

“Yeah maybe. As long as he’s clean and not hopped up on something. Then it might be harder.”

“I guess we’ll see.” John checks his phone and puts it down again after looking briefly at it. “Are you going to be able to get back to sleep?”

“Yes. I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

“Stop apologizing.” He shifts to his side, with his back to you.

It’s a strong, solid back with his shoulder blades poking out from underneath his t-shirt. You stare until your eyes feel heavy again. You feel safe.

The next time you wake up the sun is blaring from the window and John is gone. His leather bag is still by the bed though, but his suit jacket and all of his guns are gone too.

You start to go about your business, not believing John would leave you alone if you were in any kind of danger. It’s almost creepy how your phone alerts a few seconds later with a text, like he knows that you’re up.

No need to worry. I know where he is. I’ll see you later tonight. Let me know if anything happens.

You text back sounds good and John tells you to have a nice day.

It just so happens that you have the next two days off from work and you don’t know what to do with yourself. Your foot still hurts from the baseball bat incident so you zone out in front of the TV for a while, trying to forget all of your problems. That doesn’t really work so the next best thing is to venture through the kitchen. You have snacks but not much else. Maybe it would be nice if you could fix John a nice dinner or something, for hanging out with you and like, protecting you from a shitty ex boyfriend.

Some nice meat might do the trick. A nice steak with a potato and veggies. One thing grandma did that was awesome? Was to teach you how to cook. Wanting to actually cook was a different story for the last few years, the thought making you ill when you were practically a walking zombie, but now the thought excites you. It’s also different to cook for someone than just yourself because it’s usually not worth all the hassle.

Quickly, you get dressed and head out to the nearby grocery store. It's quiet and you take your time walking down the aisles with your cart, wondering what sorts of things John likes to eat. He probably stays healthy but a part of you thinks that he might have a sweet tooth. You grab everything you need, including some pie for dessert and head back home to get started.

There’s a ton of food so you text John to come over hungry and don’t eat any dinner.

He doesn’t reply back immediately and your stomach starts to sink. What if this is too much? Is this weird? It’s just dinner, right? Friends have dinner together. John has to eat sometime.

He eventually texts back a simple okay and you take it for what it is. There’s nothing you can do about it now, and since you’ve never really cooked in this kitchen before, if it turns out terrible you can always order pizza.

It doesn’t turn out terrible, in your opinion, and you’re actually impressed with yourself. There’s a knock on the door right when you're finishing setting the table and John scolds you for not asking who it was before opening the door. He’s still in the middle of his speech when he gets a whiff of steak and sees that the table is set nicely.

“What’s all this?” He asks, smoothing down his expensive silk tie.

You pull out a chair for him to sit down. “It’s just a little thank you.”

He doesn’t look happy with that answer.

“It’s me making my friend dinner… randomly?” You try again.

He laughs and nods, accepting that instead and removes his suit jacket, draping it over the back of his chair. “Do you mind if I…” He points to his waist and waits for you to nod before unclipping the belt, putting it in the bedroom for the night.

“Wine? Beer?” You ask, debating which you want.

“Usually I would, but…”

You understand that he’s working, even though he’d hate it if you said it aloud, and put them both away. “How about some ice tea?”

“Sure.” John sits and folds a napkin in his lap. He’s watching you and when you bring over a plate full of food there’s an unmistaken gasp. “Wow, this is amazing. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing.” You sit down too and pass him the salt and pepper. “I forgot how much fun it is to cook. I haven’t made anything since grandma was sick and I stopped eating. But today it was like she was in the kitchen with me.” You stop and close your eyes, embarrassed. “Sorry, that was weird to say.”

“Not the weirdest thing you’ve ever said to me.” He reminds you hesitantly, but with a small smile.

Heat warms your cheeks and you have to chuckle in agreement. “True. I feel like that was so long ago though. I’m like a different person now. You must’ve thought I was crazy.” You don’t say that you’re grateful you accidentally gave your phone number to a police informant. That it was John who showed up that day. That it wasn’t some crook who could’ve used a few hundred dollars.

“I didn’t think you were crazy.” John takes a big bite of steak and moans a little. “This is really good. I haven’t had a home cooked meal in a long time.”

“You don’t cook much?” You ask, waiting for him to make another noise of pleasure.

“I hate cooking for just myself.” He says, but otherwise he is disappointingly quiet.

You take a bite of vegetables and nod in agreement, trying to hide your swelling of excitement. Well, that’s that. He is single. No big deal, you tell yourself to calm the hell down in your head. It doesn't matter anyway. It’s not like anything would ever happen. “So, you didn’t think I was crazy? What did you think?”

John puts down his fork and looks at you, his chin resting on his hand thoughtfully. “I thought you looked really tired. That you needed help and had nowhere else to turn.”

You gently rub a finger under your eye, where you know there used to be darkened circles. Now your eyes are bright and alive. You blush at his observation.

“What’d you think when you saw me?” He asks, interested again in his steak but keeping an attentive ear to everything you say.

You don’t know why, but you feel a surge of confidence. “I thought I was talking to the most attractive hitman in all of New York and that there was no way I could afford your... business.”

John raises an eyebrow and laughs. “Really?”

Shrugging, you take another bite of food and swallow. “I don’t know what I was really thinking, honestly. It was not my best day. I just wanted to get the conversation over with. I wasn’t in the right mindset.”

“But therapy is going well?”

You’re not surprised that he knew about that, but it does make you pause that he actually asked. “Definitely. It’s going very well. And she’s a fan of you, by the way.”

“Me?”

“Don’t worry, she thinks you're an undercover cop.”

John leans over his plate, trying to get closer to you. “What exactly do you say about me?”

“That’s personal!”

“Fine.” He leans back now in his chair and crosses his arms, fake disappointment in a pout on his lips. “Then I won’t tell you about what I found out today.”

You glare at him. “Isn’t that blackmail?”

“Or extortion.” He shrugs, waiting for you to answer.

“Ugh.” You roll your eyes and sigh. “I told her about all of the nice stuff you did for me, even though it was creepy, and how you probably saved my life.”

He blinks at that, obviously not expecting you to be so forward. “Oh. And what did she say?”

“She said to be careful about you breaking into my place and stealing my car… but that it sounded like I made a really good friend.”

John is suddenly silent and tucks a stray piece of hair behind his ear. His voice is quiet when he finally speaks. “Just… just a friend?”

Your stomach does a little flip and you’re not sure where he’s going with this. “I’m pretty sure all I can have is friends right now.” You tell him slowly, trying to get all of your words exactly right. “I need to find my worth, be happy with myself… before I can do that for someone else, you know?”

John nods and his eyes are sad for a brief second but when he looks up at you, he’s proud. “I think that’s great. And I’m happy to help remind you that you’re pretty awesome.”

“Reminders are nice.” You tell him with a small smile. “Especially considering they come from a bad ass assassin.”

John chuckles and finishes his steak. He loosens his tie and unbuttons the top button of his dress shirt. He looks a little tired and you wonder what he did all day.

“So what were you going to tell me?”

“Oh, right. Max. He seems to be doing well. He’s living with his mom across town and he was spotted going into an AA meeting.”

You’re stunned. In a good way. “Really? He was always such a heavy drinker. That’s where I met him. At the bar across the street from the hospital. When visiting hours were over and I didn’t have to work, I’d go there a lot. And well, I guess he spotted a weak one.” You think back to those days when he was nice to you at first, which quickly changed into becoming manipulative and controlling. The final straw was when he said that you couldn’t visit your grandmother anymore. You lost it and he raised a hand at you, several times. You never want to be that weak. Ever again. “Well that’s good news, right?”

“Yeah.” John rubs at his beard. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t relapse.”

You stand up and start to clear the dishes from the table. “So you don’t have to stay the night, probably.”

“No, I’ll stay at least one more night. Just to be safe.”

You give him a disapproving look. You really hate to waste his time.

“Seriously, I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I wasn’t here. One more night and I’ll be out of your hair.”

That’s not at all what you meant by giving him a look so you just shake your head. “It’s nice to have the company. I just don’t think my apartment is where you want to spend your nights.”

“And where exactly do you think I spend my nights?”

The sink is full of soap and John stands to clear the rest of the plates and cups. “I picture this really fancy nightclub or rave with techno music and neon lights and beautiful women dancing around you.”

John hands over a plate and looks at you like you’re nuts. “You have a very vivid imagination.”

“Oh, like that’s never happened.” You deadpan.

“Well, I can’t say never... “ John leans against the counter and offers to help you.

“No, I got it but thank you. And also, I knew it. I just don’t see you like… dancing to techno music.” You make a face and stick out your tongue a little. You hate techno.

John laughs. “I don’t go there to dance. If I’m at a club or something it’s usually for work.”

“Ah, I see.” You move to get the dish rag to dry the silverware. “So, where do all the beautiful women throw themselves at you?”

He’s not really paying attention when he answers and he’s looking at something on the ground. “Well lately it’s been at a lake and a local gas station. Is that a bruise?” John bends down and slowly traces the swirls of black and blue colors on top of your foot. The touch stings a little but you hold still.

“Oh uh... “ God, how stupid. You didn’t think it was that noticeable. “Yeah.”

“Your whole foot is swollen.” His eyes are huge when he stands up and looks at you, his hands on his hips. “What happened?” He growls out and you push past him, considerably embarrassed and turned on all at once.

“I did it to myself, okay? It’s not a big deal.”

“You’re limping.” He exasperates, but he gently puts an arm around your waist and helps guide you to sit down. You put your foot on the coffee table and it does look worse than it did yesterday, puffy and colorful.

You grimince and don’t want to tell him. “It was just a silly accident. Sam at work already made fun of me, so let’s just forget it.”

John disappears to the kitchen and you can hear ice being gathered. He comes back and sits on the coffee table, slowly moving your foot to his lap and putting a towel full of ice by your toes, where the worst of the purples are blooming.

“You really don’t have to do that. It’s not that bad. I was just on my feet all day and I didn’t think about it. It’ll be back to normal by tomorrow.”

His fingers are so gentle around your ankle and you can’t help but to stare at his big hand surrounding your delicate bones. “Hey.” John taps on your skin until you look up at him. “You’re worth being taken care of, okay?”

Well, he got you there damnit. “Oh, that’s a good one.” You’re impressed and you let him hold your foot, sitting back to relax. Your therapist would be really pleased that you let someone help you.

“Are you going to tell me or are we going to sit here all night?”

You briefly tell him how you got the bruise and his fingers stop tracing over your skin long enough for him to laugh. Loudly.

“It’s not that funny.” You scowl at him.

“It’s really funny.” He’s snickering now and you swear there’s a tear at his eye. He moves to wipe it away and mumbles something like, “you are the cutest... “ and then clears his throat and straightens up. “You’ll have to show me your moves.”

“Uh, no, I think I’ve embarrassed myself enough for tonight, thank you.”

John rubs at your ankle again, squeezing around your leg lightly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be mean to the patient.”

“Exactly right.” You agree and smirk when you think of payback. “You gonna kiss it better?”

Without hesitation John takes off the towel and presses his lips to your cold skin. All you can do is stare at his beard and then at the teal nail polish on your toes. You’re speechless.

“It didn’t seem to work.” John says, disappointment in his voice. “I guess I’ll have to work on my technique.”

He says that last part suggestively and you sit up in the chair, ready to change the subject. “I got dessert. You like pie, right?”

“Do I like pie? What kind of question is that?”

“Can you get it?” You smile sweetly at him. “It’s on the counter.”

He gives you a knowing look but lifts your foot to get up. You can see his reflection in the window as he moves around in your kitchen and you watch him in disbelief. You realize you’ve never had anyone in your apartment. Not even grandma, she was already too sick when you got it. Max always made you go to his place. John comes back with one plate and two forks, a big slice for both of you to share.

“This is the best anyone has ever paid me to do a job.” He jokes and you smile back, taking a fork and scooping a bite for yourself.

You point to an envelope on your desk. “Speaking of getting paid… I know it’s not much, but I did promise you--”

“I was kidding.” John cuts you off. His face is instantly annoyed and hurt.

“John, please.” Your foot is still propped up on the coffee table and you can’t really move. “I just thought I’d offer.”

“Well, take it back.” He says and you put your hands up in defense, silently telling him not to be mad. “And you just lost pie privileges.”

“What?”

He stands up and walks over to the couch, as far away from you as possible. “Yeah that’s right. I’m eating all of this myself.”

You huff and struggle to sit up. “That is a radical punishment.”

“You need to learn your lesson.” He takes another big bite, making a show of it.

“That’s it.” You get up and hobble over to him, practically falling into his side and he lets out a grunt when you accidentally lean into his ribs. You decide to just lay where you are for now, you can’t move if you wanted to. “John, seriously. Pie please.”

He shakes his head with amusement and feeds you a small piece. You take it happily and let your head rest on his shoulder while he finishes and feeds you some more until it’s gone. Both of you are quiet. This is the closest you’ve ever been and you just want to feel his warmth. You know eventually you have to move so you peer up at him and smile. “You have blueberry on your lip.” You tell him, reaching to smudge it off with your thumb. At the same time he licks at it and you both laugh.

“C’mon, cripple. I’m helping you to bed.” He tells you, putting the plate and fork down on the coffee table. You use his thigh to get yourself up and he steadies your waist as you balance on one foot. You’re standing between his legs and he’s looking up at you with the sweetest eyes.

“Thank you for dinner.” His voice is sincere and determined to get his appreciation across.

You put your hands on his shoulders and lean some of your weight on him. “John… thank you. Thank you for everything.” And with that you let yourself drop down and you hug him hard. He pulls you close and rubs his hands over your back. His hair brushes your cheek and you breathe in deeply, his scent rushing to your head in the most pleasant high.

Awkwardly, you push yourself away and he grabs at your hands. “You want me to carry you to bed?”

You shoot him a glare and he laughs, letting you wobble towards your bedroom while he takes care of the dishes and turns out all the lights.

When he’s satisfied everything is in the right place, he walks into your bedroom and stands in the doorway, watching you while you sit on the bed and tie your hair up over your head for the night.

“What?”

John breaks his stare and walks around to the other side of the bed. “Nothing.”

“Do you want to watch TV or something?” You ask, grabbing the remote to the set up you have on your dresser. You tend to fall asleep to sitcoms rather than complete silence with thoughts running through your mind at full speed.

“Actually do you mind if I take a shower?” He asks. “I did a lot of running around.”

Your mouth goes dry and you try to get it together before he notices. “Did you get all sweaty tracking Max today?” You guess, smiling when he looks impressed that you got it right. “See, I could totally be an assassin!” Your smile fades when he points to your foot. “Okay, well I could be an assassin’s secretary. I could like, get all the payments and make appointments and travel arrangements and get your guns cleaned and all that stuff!”

He walks around to his bag and gathers a pair of clean sleep clothes. “And take care of all the dead bodies too?”

You gulp. That’s so disturbing. “Yep. And I could take you to the doctor if you get hurt real bad.” You think back to the bruised knuckles and the dried cut on his face.

He cocks his head to the side and thinks for a minute. “That does sound helpful.”

“Really?”

“Yes and also dangerous. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You stand from the bed to get him a towel. “Um, just to let you know, I’ve seen all the assassin movies.”

“Oh, so you’re an expert.”

Opening your closet, you pull out the softest towel you own. “That sounds very sarcastic.” You push it to John's stomach and he grabs it from you, but you don’t let go and tug it back gently. “I’ll have you know I’m a very quick study, Mr. Wick.”

John briefly closes his eyes and takes a step closer to you. He leans in to whisper, his mouth close to your ear, “You better get off that foot.”

A giggle escapes and you sit down on the bed. “If I didn’t have a bruised foot... then could I be your secretary?”

He walks into the bathroom, and right when he closes the door he stops to tell you no.

Frowning, you crawl back to your pillows. You notice John forgot his pajamas on the bed and you’re about to get up and give them to him, but you decide not to. This should be interesting.

You’re watching TV innocently when the bathroom door cracks open ten minutes later. Steam is hovering around John’s form and you hide your smile.

“Um… I forgot my…” He points to the clothes on the bed and you point to your foot.

“I would help you, but I’m a cripple.” You tell him, now smiling because you can’t hide it anymore. You’re trying not to laugh.

He glares at you when the door opens and you see the towel wrapped around his waist.

“I swear I won’t look.” You tell him, covering your eyes.

“Are we twelve now?” He mocks, stepping out and picking up his clothes.

Your smile fades when you look at him because damn. “No, we are definitely not twelve.” You murmur to yourself, and you don’t mean to gock, but he’s fresh out of the shower, glistening skin and tight muscles, toned and strong. He pushes his hair from his face and notices you watching him.

There’s a smug grin when he turns around and your heart completely skips a beat. All you see are flashes of tattoos, black lines and shading on his back. Maybe on his arms too but it was so fast. If you could only make time stand still.

Now you’re glaring when he comes back into the bedroom a few minutes later. He’s glancing at you very casually. “What?”

“You did that on purpose.”

He laughs and gets under the covers. “What? Forget my clothes?”

“No. Showing off all of your…” You gesture to his body. “Never mind.” You can’t believe this is happening and turn towards the TV, trying to forget the hotness laying beside you. Nope. You can’t. “John, why are you doing this?”

He sits up a little. “What do you mean?”

“Why are you here? Why are you helping me?” There. You finally asked it. Here comes the pity party.

“Why wouldn’t I?” He asks, confused. When you don’t say anything, he asks another question. “Would you help me if I needed it?”

You don’t hesitate. “Yes, of course I would.”

“Well,” he lays back down and looks blankly at the TV. “There’s your answer.”

“But you hardly know me.”

He briefly glances at you. “Does it matter? I would want to help anyone. What are we watching?”

You laugh at how simple it was all this time. You should really stop overthinking everything. “Do you want to watch Friends or Seinfeld?”

“Who and what?” He asks, not knowing at all your favorite shows.

You caress his cheek and pet him softly. “You poor, innocent man. I have a lot to teach you about laughing.”

He shoves your hand away playfully. “I watch TV… sometimes.”

“When you’re not doing assassin-y stuff.”

John sighs and closes his eyes. “Yes, when I’m not working.”

“Mmhm.” You don’t really believe him. You figure he reads a lot or studies, or does something really smart. Never really does anything just for fun. “We should totally go to a movie tomorrow!” You say it jokingly, like he would ever agree to something so mindless, but you can hardly believe it when he nods and says okay. “Really? You would go to a movie?”

“Isn’t that what friends do together, right?”

You wouldn’t have any idea. You don’t have friends and you haven’t been to the movies in ages. You hate going by yourself and you never had enough money.

“I think so?” You respond, not really knowing.

He lets out a little yawn. “All of my friends are… well, you know. I don’t see any of them going to a movie.”

“But you would?”

“With you? Yes. You’re not in the business, clearly.”

You throw a pillow at him, but he quickly catches it and puts it behind his head. You mumble to yourself of course and turn off the light. “Just for that, I get to pick.”

He groans and you laugh as you tuck yourself in under the covers. You feel excited for tomorrow. Your therapist was right, you did make a good friend. Even if both of you have no idea what exactly that means.

You’re still in bed when John is getting coffee from the kitchen, looking at your phone for movie times. “Don’t worry, I will not make you sit through a chick flick… or a disney movie… or a musical.”

“Do you take cream and sugar?” John asks, popping his head into the bedroom. You nod yes to both and he disappears again.

“Oh! There’s a new sci-fi movie out. You like aliens, right? It looks scary too.”

John comes back into the room with two steaming hot cups. He hands one to you carefully and you take a slow sip. “Mmm. This is really good, thank you.”

He looks pleased with himself as he gets back into your bed, sitting with his legs crossed under him. His hair is messed up a little and he’s still in his pajamas. The sight is really cute. You’re kind of sad that it was the last night he’s here. You quickly got used to him in your apartment and having someone to come home to was so nice. He already mastered your crappy coffee machine and he does the dishes. But the sleepovers are done and you wish it had lasted a little longer, purely for selfish reasons.

You must be staring at him for too long because he stops drinking his coffee and gives you a small smile. “What?”

Dunking your head, you’re embarrassed that he caught you. “Nothing.”

He grins, like he can read your mind but doesn’t want to ruin the moment. “What time’s the movie?”

“Let’s see…” You tap at your phone, scrolling through the options. “How about this afternoon? Then we could get something to eat or whatever.”

Now he’s really smiling and now he really does call you out. “Wouldn’t this be like… a date? Did you just ask me out on a date?”

“What!” You shriek and put your coffee down on the nightstand, stretching your leg over to try and push him off the bed, but he doesn’t move an inch and just laughs at you. “Oh. My. God. Absolutely not, you weirdo. Why can’t two people just hang out? Jerry and Elaine do it all the time!” You point to the TV in your defense, trying to remind him of the show you watched last night.

“Okay, okay. Sorry.” John puts his coffee down too and grabs your foot to inspect the bruise. “Wishful thinking, I guess.”

You roll your eyes, still not being able to fathom John Wick flirting with you. It’s probably all a joke to him anyway so you continue to ignore it. “What’s the verdict, Doc?”

He slides your pant leg up and takes a closer look. “Well, it’s not as dark as it was yesterday. Still a little swollen.”

“Told you it would be fine.”

“You’re welcome.” He cracks a smile and you remember the kiss he placed there last night. “Do you need anything else to feel better?”

“Ugh, gross.” Rolling your eyes even harder. “Your flirting is terrible.”

He grabs at his heart like it hurts. “I take offense to that.”

“Good, that was the point.” You get up from the bed and open the closet, searching for something to wear today. “It’s probably the one thing you’re not good at.”

“I could be good at it.” He says, sipping his coffee again. “I’m just rusty. I need to practise.”

You don’t turn around. “Obviously.”

“Obviously.” He repeats slowly, and then horrified, “Wait.. I’m not skeezy am I?”

That makes you laugh and you sit back down on the bed. “No, John. You’re not skeezy. You’re like the opposite of skeezy. You’re too nice to be skeezy.”

“I’m too nice?”

“Yeah.” You get up again and fiddle with your hair that’s fallen in your face. “I know you say these things just to be nice to me. I know it doesn’t mean anything. It’s sweet though, it’s fun. I get it.”

Slowly, he shakes his head, trying to comprehend your thoughts. “So, you’re saying I could never be serious about flirting with you?”

“Ha, not in this lifetime.” You gather your bathrobe and head for a shower. “Don’t worry, I’m not that stupid. I know exactly how far out of your league I am.”

Now John is the one rolling his eyes. You don’t give him a chance to say anything though and close the door to the bathroom, finally able to catch your breath a little. He still makes you nervous, you realize, and you hope the feeling fades the more time you spend with him because it seems like he needs a friend just as much as you do.

You’re brushing your teeth when John taps a knuckle on the door.

“Do you mind if we stop at my place before the movie?”

“You don’t want to wear a suit all day?”

“Not really.” He smiles. “And I have to pick up the dog.”

“Oh right!” You spit into the sink and wash your mouth. “I want some puppy kisses.”

John looks at your lips and then to your eyes. It’s fast, but you still see it. And if you didn’t he mutters, “tease” and leaves to go out the front door.

You grab your purse on the way out and he waits patiently for you to lock the door behind you. He has his bag with him and you’re disappointed it’s not still in your apartment. You wonder if he’s wearing all of his guns and try to sneak a peek under his suit jacket at his waist. You’re not paying attention so you run smack into his back when he stops for the elevator.

Yep, he’s wearing one gun because you feel it hit your stomach. He looks at you oddly and reaches a hand out to steady you.

“Do you always carry a gun when you go places?”

“Usually.”

“Do you ever have to use it?”

“Sometimes.”

The elevator ride down is quiet and you wave to Francis walking by in the hallway. John nods towards him too, like they have some sort of secret understanding.

His car is glistening in the sun and you have to admit, it is a pretty sweet ride. John opens the door for you after he throws his bag in the trunk and you move carefully, afraid you might scratch the paint job. You fold yourself neatly in the seat and stay still.

He smoothly gets in and before you can process about how annoyingly attractive he is, the engine roars to life and he’s speeding out of your complex onto the main road. You have a hard time not watching his hands because his fingers are long and look good around the steering wheel. He drives fast but not enough to make you nervous and glances at you a few times to make sure you’re okay. You don’t say much but it’s a comfortable silence with the windows down. You watch the town go by as you start to relax.

It’s only about a ten minute drive until the car pulls up to the most gorgeous house you’ve ever seen. Of course, this is where John would live. In a house built with huge windows and high ceilings, with a big open yard that’s perfectly manicured.

He parks in the driveway but still pushes a button so the garage door goes up.

“C’mon, I’ll only be a minute.” He tells you and curiosity gets the best of you because you had planned to stay in the car.

“Are you sure? I can wait here.”

“Why?” He doesn’t wait for you to answer, obvious that he thinks your question was dumb, and he moves around to open your door again.

“Such a gentleman.” You praise, not being able to help yourself. You can’t remember the last time anyone opened anything for you.

He smiles and leads the way into the house. “Well, I try.”

“This is really pretty.” You tell him, stepping into a long hallway where you can see the living room off to one side and the kitchen off to the other.

“You want the tour?” He asks, throwing his keys into a glass bowl and taking his suit jacket off. There are actually two guns on his belt, the one on his right hip you hadn’t seen.

“No, it’s okay. Just seeing the downstairs is enough to make me depressed about my small apartment.”

John scoffs and opens the front door to let in some air. “I like your place. It’s comfortable there. And the cooking’s really good.”

You laugh and he steers you more into the kitchen, which is huge with a tile floor and what looks like all new appliances. “I’d love to cook in this kitchen. There’s so much room!”

“Yeah?” He stops and looks at you very seriously. “You officially have an open invitation to cook here any time.”

“Ha ha.” You push at his shoulder and walk to the big wood dining table, looking around. There are a bunch of picture frames, but they’re all in a pile on a shelf by the coffee maker. You wonder what kind of pictures he has and why they aren’t on display. You don’t want to be nosy though, so you run your finger over the espresso machine that looks like it cost more than a month of pay. “Marry me?” You bend over and ask it, breathing in deeply the scents of coffee.

John laughs and points at a smaller hallway. “Laundry is through there.” He points at a door. “Basement.” He walks through the kitchen and into the living room, which is sparse but still lovely. You wonder if he decorated this place himself or if he had help.

“Evening entertainment.” He points to the TV even though you see a stack of heavy books on the coffee table, some of them well read. “Upstairs?” He asks, starting for the staircase. You shrug, trying not to seem eager and interested.

The amount of sunlight the house gets is incredible. There are windows everywhere, but you can’t see any neighbors and it’s fairly quiet. This is like your dream house.

“Wow.” It’s all you can say when you enter the master bedroom. A huge bed in the middle that looks so very soft. There’s a sitting couch and table, with a bureau next to the walk in closet. The view is fantastic and you can even see the lake from here. You walk to the other side of his bedroom and almost press your face against the glass. “You live right across from the community college campus! That’s so cool!”

John is in his closet, probably getting new clothes for the day, but you can hear him say, “Yeah?”

“Yeah! You could walk there if you wanted to! Save a ton on parking.” You mutter, more to yourself.

Suddenly he’s right behind you, now in a white cotton shirt with long sleeves. “What do you mean?”

“I applied to go to school in the fall. I want to take some classes, maybe try for a degree or something. My place is far, so it’ll be a hassle but that’s okay.” You tug on the hem of his shirt as you walk by him, throwing your purse on the bed. “What else is up here?” You ask, peering down another long hallway.

He has a proud look in his eyes and he’s still gapping at you a little. “I didn’t know you’re going back to school.”

“Oh, something you finally didn’t know, I can’t believe it.”

“Well, I saw the application on your kitchen table but I didn’t want to assume.”

You laugh because of course he did. “Were you snooping, John Wick?”

“Never. I just observe.”

“Oh, I see.”

He opens the door to an empty bedroom with no furniture. “This was supposed to be a guest room but I never got around to it.”

“What about that room?” You point to the door at the end of the hallway.

“My office.”

“Ooh. Do you have assassin secrets in there?” You smile teasingly and walk back to his bedroom to get your purse.

“No, those are in the basement.”

Laughing, you can’t tell if he’s joking or not. You don’t think he is.

The windows are calling again and you can’t help but to take one more look of the view. “This is just so nice. You have everything in walking distance. The lake, the school…”

There’s a beat of silence before he says, “You should move in here.”

That makes you throw your head back and really laugh. How funny. “John, don’t be stupid.”

“How is that stupid?” He asks, his tone is serious but kind. “There’s an empty room. You can walk to school. You can watch the dog for me when I go on… work trips. You would have a kitchen to cook in.”

This man seems to keep surprising you. “You’ve only known me for like a month. What if I smell bad or something?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “You smell amazing.”

“What if I play loud music really late at night?”

“You can’t keep your eyes open past ten.”

“What if I have parties all weekend long?”

“While you work and go to school? Be my guest.”

“What if I’m messy and leave my clothes everywhere?”

John’s eyes narrow with suspicion. “Did you just pretend to be neat while I was at your place for two days?”

He’s right, you do like a clean house. “Whatever, John.” Hoping that he drops it. “Don’t you have to get the dog?”

“Damn, stay here. I’ll be right back. Their house is just down the street.” He runs down the stairs and you can hear the screen door open and shut.

You look around the bedroom again and take it all in. What a completely different life this would be. Not that you don’t like your apartment. It’s cozy and you’re proud of what you’ve established for yourself. This is too fancy for you anyway. Plus, you like having your space. John would be the weirdest roommate ever. You can’t even imagine.

You jog down the stairs to wait on the couch. You spot some more picture frames stacked nicely in a pile and you’re just about to sneak a look when you can hear them approach the house.

“Puppy kisses!” You cry out and kneel down to gather a happy dog in your arms. If you had any idea this was the dog driving you mad all those nights, you would have taken him for yourself.

“Pooch! Get down.” John’s Alpha voice is hot and both you and the dog stop everything.

He trots over to his doggy bed anyways and plops down. “Cassey, the little girl, wore him out at the park this morning.” John says. “Are you ready to go?”

The movie! You had almost forgotten with all the excitement of being in John’s house.

“Yeah, let’s do it. And don’t worry, I’ll protect you. Don’t get scared.” You tell him, in a bravado voice.

“Can we get gummy bears?” He asks and you crack up on the way back to the garage.

“You’re a grown man, you can get whatever you want.”

John hurries to open the car door for you again. “I meant, would you have any or would you like something else?”

“Hmm, I don’t know, that’s a big decision.” You slide back into the car and think to yourself that you could really get used to the chivalry John is showing. You wonder how long it could last. “I think I have to see all my options.”

John smiles as he starts the car and lowers the garage door. “This is really serious.”

You fasten your seatbelt and get comfortable. “When’s the last time you went to a movie?”

He turns his head to back out of the driveway, putting his arm around your seat. His face is very close to yours and you notice that his eyes are a very pretty brown when he’s not working.

“Good point.”

You grin, breaking the eye contact because it’s making your stomach fill with butterflies that you mentally quiet down.

The theater is busy and you realize it’s a Friday during summer, so all the teenagers are here. John’s phone rings as he parks and tells you he has to take it, so you decide to get in line and buy the tickets. He’s leaning against his car, chatting while looking around at his surroundings and smiles at you when he catches you checking on him.

You quickly see that the movie is sold out and not knowing what to do, you walk back to John and the car just as he’s finishing his conversation. It sounds like he was speaking in Russian, but you can’t be sure. “All set?” He asks, sliding the phone in his pocket and reaching to put his hand on your back. He hardly ever really touches you, but his hand hovers over your body constantly.

“It’s sold out.” You tell him. “Do you want to see something else or maybe come back another day?”

“Oh.” He looks disappointed. “But you really wanted to see that movie.”

“It’s okay, shit happens, right?” You shrug it off easily. This is not the worst thing that could happen. Plus, you’re hanging out with John, so you could be going to the town dump and you’d be happy.

“Hold on. Stay here, I’ll be right back.” He takes off towards the theater and leaves you by the car. You watch him go and it’s almost like he’s in slow motion again. You wonder how just his stride oozes that much confidence.

In a few minutes he’s back with two tickets. “Here we go. C’mon.”

“How’d you do that?” You dumbly follow him to the theater doors and he guides you to walk in front of him.

“It’s a secret. What do you want?”

You’re still staring at him in a silent awe as he looks at the refreshment stand. A beautiful young worker comes to help and John’s gaze is just on you.

“Um… gummy bears? Right?” You ask him, trying to snap out of it. “That’s what you wanted?”

He leans in close, dark hair falling into his eyes. “I’m asking what you want.”

You don’t really remember what the hell you say, but somehow John pays and leads you down a long hallway and to your seats. Now he’s really close to you and the smell of his cologne is making your legs weak.

“You okay?”

“Yes!” It comes out too fast but you realize you’re acting weird and need to get with it.

John nods and crosses his long legs, sitting back in the chair and shifting towards you, whispering as advertisements play on the big screen. “I have a question.”

“Yes?”

“Do friends hold hands at the movies?”

You close your eyes. “No, John. They do not.”

“Not even when I scored tickets that were sold out?”

You lean in to him and smile. “If you tell me how you did that, I might reconsider the answer to your question.”

“Hmm…” He runs fingers over his beard as he thinks. “I talked to the manager.”

“And?”

“And I paid him.”

“John!”

“What? You wanted to know, so I told you.”

You shake your head in disbelief as the lights lower and the movie starts. “You’re crazy.”

He doesn’t disagree with you, but he does turn towards the screen, still touching your elbow throughout most of the first half of the movie. When it gets really creepy, he covers his mouth every time you jump in your seat, hiding his smile.

You somehow get closer to his shoulder, shielding your eyes and turning into his body when you jump again, grabbing onto his arm. The muscles you feel are solid, and you technically knew they were there, you just never really considered them before. And you are definitely considering them now.

John lets you hold on to him, and even offers to hold your hand when the movie winds down and you link his pinky with yours, not wanting to totally turn him down. He seems satisfied with that and smoothes his thumb down your hand a few times before the credits roll.

“That was so good!” You exclaim, getting up from your seat and stretching. “I forgot how fun the movies are!”

“You were scared.” John teases, playfully shaking your hand with his.

“Was not.”

“Was too.”

“Whatever, you were scared too.” You tell him, pushing the heavy doors open and heading to his car. The sky is darker now and the wind has picked up, chilling your arms. You wish you had brought a sweater.

“I was definitely not scared.” John laughs, his hand hovering over your back again. You feel it because you stop for a car and his arm is suddenly pressed into your waist. He moves quickly though, opening the door for you to get inside.

He turns on the heat as soon as he can and asks where you want to eat.

“It’s up to you. I could go for anything.”

“Sushi?”

That surprises you and you can’t help but look at him with a raised eyebrow.

“What?”

“Nothing, I just didn’t know John Wick likes sushi. I see you more of an all meat kinda guy.”

“I have a very sophisticated pallet.”

“Oh, my mistake.” You laugh and tell him to lead the way.

He takes you to a really nice place and you talk about the movie and the food all throughout dinner. It’s nice, not forced, and fun. These past two days, even with the weird circumstances, have been really fun. You want to pay for the dinner, but of course John beats you to it without you even realizing until it’s far too late. You glare at him and tell him that friends usually split the check. He apologizes with a sparkle in his eye and you know he’s not sorry at all.

When John pulls up to your apartment you thank him for such a great day.

“Are you sure you’re not going to be scared?” He asks, after telling you he had fun today too.

“Yes, John.”

“I could spend the night again, just to make sure.”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll be fine. And you have to get back to Pooch.”

“You could spend the night at my place.” John offers, completely innocent but realizes what he says and adds, “I could take the couch, of course.”

“Good bye, John.” You tell him and he wants you to let him know if you need anything, or if you hear from Max. “I will.” Waving, you open the car door before he can get out and do it for you. The walk up to your apartment is quiet and just a little lonely.

Once you get inside it’s worse, but you try to ignore it. Instead, you lay in bed where John had slept and cuddle the pillows.

He texts you once he’s home, to make sure you made it to the apartment okay.

You didn’t let me walk you upstairs, he texts with a sad face.

Instead of telling him that you’re a grown up or you don’t need his protection, you simply text back next time.

You really hope there’s a next time.

TBC Chapter 3

#john wick #john wick x you #john wick x reader #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x y/n #romance #slow build #find your worth #chapter 2 #keanu reeves

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xlehukax · 4 years

Text

Still Beating Heart

Foreword: Hello! I’ve been working on this thing for a little while now, and it’s finally done! This fanfiction is set in the Pediatric Doctors AU that I made, that you can learn more about here. It’s done in conjunction to writings by @eeveeeclair246, to who has the first installment of this series, titled Inefficent Iron, which you can find here. And, if you don’t want to read on Tumblr, I get it! This will also be on Archives in a hot minute, so check my Masterpost for the link. Now, on with the show!

Ships: Roman x Virgil, Implied Remus x Logan

Word Count: 10215

Warnings: LANGUAGE, Alcoholism, Bars, Panic Attacks, Medical Issues (ie. weak hearts), Cheating, Implied Sexual Content, Implied Rape, that creeping feeling of regret.

Summary: Virgil’s always been the quiet nurse, the prickly one, the don’t talk to me unless there’s an issue one. Roman’s fresh out of a relationship, and looking to go out on the town, and needs a friend to go along with. And Virgil can’t say no to his crush, even if they work in the same place.

~~~~

It’s just another day at the office: by that, Virgil means, Patton’s handing out cookies, Logan’s being a work-aholic and refuses to let any of the patients go to Janus, in which is being very meticulous and annoyingly good at his job and refusing to let Virgil do his, Remus is going through the latest urine samples, and Roman is doing what Roman does best. Ranting about his latest breakup while painting his nails in the receptionist booth.

And Virgil just happens to be the only one around, after Patton leads the last patient of the day to Logan and the waiting room finally empties. Virgil simply sighs in defeat, and tries to shrink into his nurse uniform. Let it be known, he did not choose to be there. Or ever.

“Emo, are you even listening?”

“Yup, yes, I am, absolutely,”

“Alright, just had to make sure, you know, you tend to ignore me, which you’d think is impossible but you never cease to surprise me in that regard. Anyway, so this guy, Ethan- total dreamboat, eyes bluer than you’d ever believe. So I met him on this app, and we went for drinks a few weeks ago: and thirty minutes in, I’m in love. He’s a painter. Sweetest guy- we end up at his apartment, and you know- but I was in it for the long haul. Virgil, I was really ready for a long-term with this guy. He seemed like he was down for it too… and then, just yesterday, you know what I found in his apartment?”

“Another person,” Virgil sighs.

“Some floozy, blond and covered in hickeys, and Ethan painting her. Like, I didn’t know what to be more offended about: the fact that he cheated on me or that he doesn’t have a sexy painting of me!”

“Mhmm…” Virgil’s almost fallen asleep, and doesn’t even notice Roman hovering utop him until he’s right in his face.

“Virgil-” Roman shouts, and Virgil startles right into Roman’s arms. Which he now is realizing quite quickly are not just incredibly strong because they hold his weight easily, but landing their faces inches apart. Virgil sucks in a gasp- Roman smirks. “Hey there… you know, you’re not too bad looking yourself. Under all that makeup, you’re quite the princess, aren’t you?” It takes Virgil a moment to craft a response, he’s so scatterbrained and blushing.

“Fuck off Princey, I’m not your latest conquest,” Virgil hisses, still a large flush on his features. Roman flicks his nose.

“Yeah, but you’re still cute. Maybe I should date you~”

“In your fucking dreams- you cycle through boyfriends so fast, I’ll be dust in the wind,”

“Hmm,” Roman still hasn’t let Virgil go, and it is not helping the warmth in his face whatsoever, “Can’t argue with that.” And then Virgil is unceremoniously dumped onto the chair he was sitting in, with Roman towering above him. Did he always have those pretty eyes? He’s got these fantastically plump lips, it really shows when he’s smirking like that. And that hair is quite… quite royal- now that he’s looking at it-

Bloody hell, stop, now’s not the time to fawn, Virgil curses at himself. Virgil has always been introverted, and this- this interaction, Roman’s boldness with him… it’s completely unfamiliar. A bold move, reaching into his space, completely ignoring all of the protective glares and hisses that Virgil had in place. Disregarded his shields completely. Virgil has been harboring a bit of an infatuation with this confident musical wonder as of late, and this is not helping matters. Roman chuckles, running a hand through his hair.

“Well, J.Delightful, now I simply must make use of this situation,”

“What are you getting at-” Virgil snarls, to which Roman simply grins widely.

“You’re going to be my new wingman. There’s a open mic at a gay bar I frequent, and if I’m going to find somebody, then I need someone else to be my safety buddy. You know, watch for creepy old men who hit on me and all that jazz,” Roman pushes, eyes alight with excitement, “Patton won’t go with me anymore because he doesn’t like the loud noises, Logan doesn’t drink, I’m not asking Janus to come he’ll scare them all away or steal the attention, and Remus- well, you can probably guess why not Remus, and it’s not because people approach us because we’re twins. I can’t believe I’ve never asked you to come with me! It’ll give us some good outside of work bonding time too. Isn’t it great?”

“I don’t want to,” Virgil grumbles. Roman tuts.

“Oh come on now- am I so hard to be around?” No, Virgil thinks, and that’s the problem. “Pfft, if it’s really so hard, I’ll just cave and bring around someone else.”

“No…” Virgil whispers, so quiet that he’s sure it’s nearly silent, and Roman’s eyebrow perks up.

“Hmm? Was that a no I just heard?”

“I just- I’m not good in social situations, do you even really want me there? I’ll probably just screw your chances, scare people off,”

“Perfect! I’ll need someone to scare someone off,”

“But- I’ll damper on your fun,”

“Never! You will never cease to be fun to poke fun at,”

“I don’t know, Princey. You really want me there?” Virgil says, looking away and speaking in hushed tones still. Roman grabs his pale hands, squeezing them tightly.

“I need you, Virge,” Roman purrs. Virgil blushes harder, somehow, and tucks his head into his shoulder and murmurs his agreement. Damn it. “Wonderful! I’ll pick you up at 9, how does that sound?”

“Wait, tonight?” Virgil squawks. Roman drops his hands, blessedly, and steps back from him shrewdly. Smart, as Virgil’s immediate response is to throw a punch. Roman easily sidesteps.

“Oh, yes- did I not mention that? Tonight. It’s Friday,” Roman nods, smiling wickedly. Oh my god, I need to bathe, I need to find something nice-ish to wear, unearth my good eyeshadow, fuck it all I need new skin-

“Hey, hey, don’t freak. You don’t have to get all fancy for me: wear what makes you comfortable, and I’ll stop by your apartment at 9,”

“Wait a second- how do you know where I live?” Virgil says, suddenly horrified. Roman snickers.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Uh, yes I would,” Virgil growls.

“Pfft, I need to know everyone’s addresses, I’m the receptionist, Virge. It’s my job,” Roman scoffs. Virgil blushes: well, now he feels foolish. But it reminds him: Roman and himself work together. It doesn’t matter if something comes out of this, as it is- Remus and Logan are constantly being sickeningly cute around the office. The real problem is if he screws this up, and still has to go to work with him the next day. This is a really bad idea. But… When will he have another golden opportunity like this one?

“Okay, okay- 9, right?”

“Yes! Thank you, My Chemically Imbalanced Romance- you’re going to have so much fun. I’ll sing a song just for you, as thanks,” Roman grins cheekily, Virgil blows the hair out of his eyes, attempting nonchalant despite the whirlwind of anxiety confined within.

“Alright, fine, whatever. Should I- should I dress a certain way? Wait, is there a dress code? How much money should I bring? Is it credit or cash? Do they have food there? Will I have to dance?” Virgil shudders at the thought of dancing, even with Roman, who is currently blinking rapidly under the onslaught of questions.

“Okay erm, just dress how you normally do? Scratch that, a peg hotter than a hoodie, thank you. No dress code, have you ever been to a bar? Just bring your wallet, think about how many drinks you want, and I’m dancing whether you’re going to or not, so-”

Virgil takes notes internally, already too worried about this whole ordeal. He should really just cancel, say he just remembered something, but he knows he’ll regret that later. Either way, the only other thing he’s doing tonight is hanging with his spider, Missy, and watching Unsolved Mysteries. So…

“I’ll- I’ll see you later then, Princey,” Virgil murmurs, before gathering the few things he has around him and breezing past whilst trying to make it appear like he’s not running away.

“See you!! At least pretend to be excited- It’s going to be one hell of a night, Virge- you won’t regret this!”

As Virgil silently clocks out (Patton will take over the end of the day nurse activities, it’s fine) he thinks to himself, I certainly hope not.

~~~~~

And then, it’s already 8:50, too soon. Virgil showered, twice, because the first time he used his usual unscented body wash for work and not the one that smells like lavender and violets and by jove Roman inviting him out after work deserves more than unscented. Then the clothes resulted in a mini fashion show in front of the mirror for an hour, where upon he finally settled on a black button down over a grey undershirt with some black ripped jeans (it took him another 25 minutes to decide on mostly untucked in a ‘I just threw this on’ careless feel), and his favorite purple and black hoodie just in case it got cold… of which he ended up shivering right away anyhow and put it on anyway.

And then a whole other hour on makeup: a very tasteful black eyeliner and purple and black smokey eye with just a hint of dark glitter. Some lipstick, and a little dust on his cheekbones, and Virgil finally felt confident, an emotion that lasted all of ten minutes when he realized that he hadn’t chosen a pair of shoes yet.

The shoes took another thirty minutes alone. And then the idea of changing his hair up a little occurred to him, and that was another hour wasted that ended with keeping his regular low-hanging hair anyway.

And now he’s trying not to look like he’s waiting, because he doesn’t want to be waiting on Roman, but he needs to see if his car comes up, but he doesn’t want to be desperate, so he’s panicking slightly in his apartment with all the lights off because he was going to leave and now he’s freaking out instead, because he doesn’t know if it’s more appropriate to wait for Roman to text him that he’s outside and head downstairs after that or to just head downstairs now like a normal person or maybe he just shouldn’t go. His head slowly stops pounding, and his breath evens out, the oncoming anxiety attack fading away with the thought. Yeah, maybe Virgil can stay home instead- there’s too many variables anyway.

When Virgil was young, he was always making decisions like this. He was sick, not like crazy-sick, but sick. Anemia, coupled with coronary heart disease, topped off with bronchitis. He had weak lungs, weak heart, weak blood- his whole body was frail, and sometimes his blood didn’t move around fast enough to make him work right. There was no running around, no nothing: he was constantly worried about every little thing, because his parents were. Did you take your pills today? How was your bloodwork? Are you feeling woozy? Until Virgil just stopped leaving the house whatsoever. It was just easier. There was no chance of passing out while crossing a street and getting run over, never going to embarrass himself at school by having a heart attack…

And wouldn’t you know, staying at home made him only sicker. No muscle mass whatsoever, pale as a ghost, always so cold, so frail from not getting enough nutrients. His parents made the best decision of their lives and set him down the path that led him here by… by hiring a nurse. A kind nurse, with funny jokes and encouragement, who helped him go outside for the first time in months. Who taught him little things to make him stronger, like light weights. Virgil grew out of his heart disease, and though he still had bronchitis and anemia, he regularly took medications which made them easy to handle. And just like that, Virgil was no longer sickly (at least externally, he still had anxiety, but he’s managing it). Then he was a normal teenager, who wanted to be strong enough to help someone in the same way that nurse had.

Here Virgil is now- and he’s not going to fall into that same loop he was in as a kid. He’s better now, medicating only when needed. Virgil is all lean-muscle, and he’s better than his anxiety. He can totally go on a date-not-a-date with his crush to a gay karaoke bar. Totally. Taking a deep breath, Virgil checks his phone (which is fully charged with two mini backup batteries on his keys tucked into his back pocket) and realizes with horror that Roman texted a whole six minutes ago while Virgil was panicking that he was waiting downstairs.

“Shit!” Virgil slams his door, and just runs down the stairs instead of taking the elevator (he only lives on the fourth floor anyway, because anything higher than like 10 fire ladders can’t get to and there’s a 50% possibility of surviving a fall from four stories), and hopes his meticulous makeup job isn’t ruined. By Roman’s expression, he doesn’t think it did-

He had been grinning teasingly, mouth open to say some quip, but his jaw goes slack when he sees Virgil. Roman’s eyes are wide, leaning up against his red car, as he watches Virgil stop by the curb only a few feet in front of him. Roman whistles.

“Damn, Virgil… you look- damn. Wowza, do you clean up nice,” Roman falls over his words, making Virgil flush. Roman thinks I look good- I did good, it’s all good.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Princey,” Virgil whispers. Because really, he doesn’t: Roman’s white dress shirt has the top two buttons undone, showing off his pectorals and just a hint of his abs, and some nice pants. His hair is done over to the side, and one crown earring hangs from an ear. It’s really a delightful look, but makes Virgil feel out of place with his dark clothes and his heavy makeup. Roman only has a light bit. “Did I go overboard? I can- I can wash it off,” Virgil asks, hating that he’s offering to change this intensive and difficult look for a stupid guy.

“No, no- you look gorgeous. Seriously Virge, you should do my makeup. Like, I feel outdone, and I never feel that way! Come on, get on in, let’s go,” Roman shoos Virgil into the car, where he feels just as much if not more awkward. Still, he’s excited, out of this world excited: Roman likes how he looks. Roman finds him attractive, and they’re going to the club, together.

Not together, Virgil- you’re just his buddy. Virgil has to remind him that this is not a date, that he’s gotten all worried and dressed up for sitting at a bar and watching Roman flirt with other men. It makes his heart ache, but at least they’re together now .

“We’re almost there, Emo. You ready to have a good time?”

“I uh- erm, I mean. Yeah. Yeah sure, I’ll have fun sitting in the corner doing fucking nothing, that’s what I’m ready for,” Virgil’s suddenly defensive and feels horrible about the crude outburst.

“Oh my- Virge, do you not want to go? I don’t want to force you into anything!” No, I do, I do!

“Eh, it’s whatever. I got all dressed up, be a shame to not go out. I just- I don’t like to- I’m-”

“I know you don’t like being left alone! Don’t worry, I’ll be close by the whole time. I’ll watch you if you watch me, yeah?”

“Why are you so worried about being watched? You’ve clearly been to a lot of these things…” Virgil changes the subject to hide his flush at Roman’s empathy for him.

“Ah, well- I have been to a lot of these things, and I’ve had some… unfavorable experiences. A few times now, guys have put stuff in my drinks, or waited for me to get drunk and then take me home. It’s… it’s not what I want. I go to meet new people, not to get a one-night stand that I didn’t want. They don’t make me feel good. I hate it,” Roman growls at the road, and Virgil makes what might be a rash decision and places his long pale hands on Roman’s tanned worn ones by the gearshift. Roman looks over at him, and Virgil ducks his head. Roman smiles.

“I’ll watch out for you, I promise. I don’t really drink either, ‘cuz of my blood issues, so I can drive home too,” Virgil murmurs, still looking away. Roman moves his hand around, grips his tightly. Virgil doesn’t look at it, but knows they’re intertwined, and it makes his head hurt.

“Thank you, Virge. Aaand, we’re here,” the bar is bright in the dark evening, a neon sign advertising it, and Roman pulls into a parking space behind the building. He takes his key, and reaches out to put it in Virgil's pocket. “Don’t trust myself to hand em over, this thing’s my baby. I’m trusting you, though, and you gotta be good about that, alright?”

Virgil nods, and allows Roman to exit the car and help him out the other side. Roman throws his arm over Virgil’s shoulders, and saunters into the bar. As expected, it is loud. Someone’s already singing, a song by Chicago, and is doing pretty okay. There are bright lights here and there, some spots illuminated completely and others in darkness. There’s a whole load of people here too: some make eyes at him as he walks in. Virgil sticks to Roman, who chuckles, as they both head to the bar. The bartender seems to recognize Roman.

“Here for the open mic, are you, King?”

“You know it! Sign me right on up,” Roman laughs. Roman’s arm drops from Virgil’s shoulders. The bartender rolls his eyes, swipes some green dyed locks from his vision and writes Roman’s name on a pad.

“What song are you singing?”

“It’s a surprise, like usual, Vincent, I don’t know why you even bother asking,”

“Uh huh. And I see you brought a friend… you wanna sing too, baby-cheeks?” Vincent asks, leaning forwards.

Virgil hisses at him, then clears his throat.

“I don’t fucking sing,” he snarls, adding in his mind, in public. Vincent smiles knowingly.

“Aha, a feisty one. You really know how to pick em’, eh? Can I get you a drink then?” Virgil feels like he’s about to explode: this is not what he signed up for. He is here to be with Roman and watch out for him, not take this guy’s shit. Roman notices, and slings his arm once more over him.

“Nah, just a work colleague. He’s a nurse~ and doesn’t drink. It’s a shame, I know, but it’ll work better in my favor anyway. I’ll save money on the taxi. Incredible Sulk, how does a black coffee sound?”

“I guess that’s okay,” Virgil grumbles, glaring at this man even as he shrugs and complies. They both take a seat at the bar, Roman ordering some complicated fancy thing to match his personality and Virgil immediately hunching over his hot coffee. It’s surprisingly good for a bar, bitter yet flavourful, and Virgil finds himself smiling down at it.

“Eh, I think that smile says it’s more than just okay!” Roman purrs, shimmying closer to Virgil and bumping their shoulders. It seems as though the alcohol is already having an effect, his disposition somehow brighter. Virgil shies away slightly. Someone else saddles up to the bar and introduces himself. This man has long swoopy raven hair, and is even more lanky than Logan. He leans by Roman, eyes colder than Virgil would like. The dark haired fellow decides to listen in on the conversation… just in case.

“Hey, do I know you from somewhere?” the stranger says. Roman puts his hand on the bar, slurps the rest of his drink down in one go.

“I’m not sure- I do tend to get around. Where do you think you know me from, blue eyes?” Oh no. The guy’s got blue eyes, he didn’t even notice that. Virgil mourns his only chance at getting with Roman- this guy’s stealing it.

“Oh, I know! The theatre, right? You were Jason Dean in the Heathers production! Scary shit, man. You’re a fantastic singer. Hey, can we get another drink?” the stranger waves over Vincent, who fixes Roman another bright cocktail. Roman immediately starts fiddling with the straw, and looks up at the stanger.

“The name’s Roman. What’s yours?”

“I’m Lucian. It’s nice to meet you. Man, it’s so loud here: I wish we could go~,” Lucian says. Virgil narrows his eyes at the stranger, takes another sip of coffee. Roman smirks, and turns and winks at Virgil as if to say Look at this catch. Virgil tries to smile, but is pretty sure it’s just a grimace. It may just be Virgil’s luck (despite how it affects Roman) but Virgil notices Lucian dropping something in Roman’s drink. Virgil slams the table, slaps Lucian, and pushes the drink away. He fists his hand in Lucian’s shirt, able to lift the man a foot or two in the air. Patrons gawk at the events unfolding, Roman seems shocked.

“Don’t fucking touch Roman’s drink, what the fuck did you put in there you bastard?”

“Dude- that’s my drink. It was a little additive, I can consume alcohol without risk without it! He seemed to be enjoying it so much, I asked for one too, can you please- let me down, you’re hurting me-” Virgil snarls, but drops him anyway. Roman touches Virgil’s shoulder gently.

“He’s right, it’s his drink, Virgil. Thank you for defending me, but really it’s okay-” Roman reassures him, smiling placatingly, and all Virgil can feel is embarrassed. Embarrassed out of his mind and his anxiety is shooting through the roof.

“I-I… I- uh… I-” to make matters worse, another man comes stomping up to him, throws his drink on Virgil. His hoodie is now soaked, his shirt too. Virgil’s lower lip trembles. He grits his jaw against them, holding it in. Despite the fact that he’s made a total fool of himself in front of Roman. Virgil wants to bite his nails, to go home, to run away and never return. This new man points his finger right in Virgil’s face.

“Who the hell do you think you are, grabbing my husband’s shirt like that?” he growls. Virgil wants to hide in his sopping wet hoodie. Hide and never come back.

“I- erm, uh- umm-”

“My friend here is very sorry, there’s been a misunderstanding. Hey, can I buy the both of you a drink? Tell me how you met,” Roman leads them both away, looking pityingly at Virgil, “How bout you go to the bathroom and clean yourself up a little, huh? I’ll take care of this.”

Virgil ducks his head and runs with his tail between his legs. He throws himself into the surprisingly clean stall and locks it tight before falling down on the seat fully clothed. I can’t believe you did that you fucking idiot you’ll never shape up what were you thinking doing some stupid stunt like that? You’ve ruined it. Ruined everything. There’s no way Roman will ever want you now. Virgil’s panic attack is coming on quickly, like a train hurtling down a track with no end in sight. He doesn’t want it to happen, but he starts to cry.

Usually, Virgil looks to his familiar hoodie for comfort. But his hoodie is soaked, and Virgil is shivering in it. He should take it off. But he doesn’t want to, he just wants to wallow in it and wither away.

You’ll never amount to anything. You should have just stayed inside: no one would have missed you. Roman had to clean up after your mess, you were supposed to be helping and now you’re just rotting in the bathroom like an idiot. Why did you even come, if you’re just going to be a let down?

Virgil’s breath is coming out in uneven gasps, his heart is palpitating dangerously. He really shouldn’t be alone, he should go out and- no, no, no. His skin is too tight, his head is too small, and his hands are pressing bruises into his arms, he is holding them so tight. What is he supposed to do again? When his thoughts get too big for his mind and he feels like fainting, feels like how he was when he was younger and like his heart could just give out any minute and the next time he blinked open his eyes he’d be on a hospital bed.

His hazy, anxiety-filled mind vaguely recalls a conversation he had with Logan once, after he had pulled him back from an attack in the workplace (he mixed up two patients and fell apart in an empty room) that he should… he should ask for help. Call me, he had said, no matter the time. Just call me for help, and I’ll talk it out with you.

Logan is on speedial, Logan, Logan can help- with shaking fingers, Virgil can just make out the emergency phone button on his cell to call Logan.

The ringing of the phone helps station Virgil, stations him better than the pain in his hands. It picks up on the fifth ring.

“Hello, Doctor Logan Berry speaking.”

“Logan,” Virgil’s voice sounds so fucking raspy and teary, sounds so horrendously uncertain, “You- you said to call, and- if you’re busy just hang up, it’s fine you don’t have to worry, actually this was a bad idea, I’m going to hang up-”

“You will do no such thing, Virgil. Stay on the line with me. Scale of one to ten, how bad?”

“I- uh, I dunno, probably like- like a seven? I messed everything up, Lo, I- fuck, I can’t do anything right-”

“Well, that is one foul-tempered lie. Let’s calm down first, yes, and then you’ll tell me all about what happened. I’m sure it’s better than it seems,” Janus’s voice, even hindered through the phone, forces Virgil to relax. He had no idea that Janus could hear, but apparently they’re together. His mind recalls lamely that tonight is when they get together to go over payments and make sure everything is in order. A part of him is glad that Janus can hear; He’s like a hypnotist with his voice, a snake. Virgil nods, then another wave of idiocy flows through him because it’s over the phone.

“Okay, Virgil, now exhale through your mouth. I want to hear it through the telephone,” Logan instructs, no nonsense.

Virgil shakily breathes out.

“Good. Now close your mouth and inhale quietly through your nose. I’m going to count to four, alright?”

“O-okay,” Virgil complies, breathing it in. Janus counts him off rhythmically over the phone: Logan’s on the right and Janus on the left, and the result is relaxing.

“Hold your breath now for seven seconds. I’ll count for you once more.” Janus-

“Exhale again, for a total of eight seconds. Here we go-” Logan-

“Exceptional work, darling. You’re doing so well. Let’s repeat the process a few more times, how does that sound?” Janus-

Holy hell, do they make a good team.

And just like that, Virgil feels better. His chest eases, his mind soothes, and he’s no longer shaking.

“Thank you, both of you. That was- it was really fucking helpful. I don’t know what would happen if I was here alone,”

“If you don’t mind me asking… where is here?” Logan asks, dry and with no sense of privacy whatsoever.

“I’m at a bar with Roman. He- he invited me, because he wanted backup, and I made a total fool of myself. I got all aggressive on this guy who did nothing wrong,”

“Aha, jealous?” There’s a sound of Janus wrestling the phone from Logan, much to his displeasure, “Just finish this weeks, Berry-” is heard through the phone.

“Maybe… hey, wait a second! Who told you-”

“I’m not blind, Virgil. Nor stupid. Don’t even try that on me. It might work on the nerd, and even Remus and Patton, but unlike them, I’m not clueless,”

Virgil pouts, grunting softly. Is he really that obvious?

“Whatever! And now… I’ve got no chance with him. I don’t know why I even came here, anyone could see that it was a stupid idea.”

“No- well, yes, this was very stupid and most likely going to end in strife, but you still certainly have a chance! Remember, this is Roman we’re talking about: he’s a carousel when it comes to men, always changing.”

“That’s part of the issue, Jan- where am I? I’ll be left behind, and have to watch as he finds a another and another and another-”

“You’re starting to panic again, Virgil. Calm yourself. And I know that won’t happen.”

“How?”

“You’re more perceptive, attentive, and caring than any of those guys will ever be. Roman would be even more of an idiot than either of us could possibly imagine if he were to let you go. Again, I am not blind: I see how good you are with the patients. You are careful and thoughtful. Despite how you might see yourself, Virgil, you are a good person. A wonderful person, who makes mistakes, but always fixes them. You do not leave them behind you. You feel empathy, and guilt, two very humane things, and you remedy your problems. That’s what happened with me, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah… I guess, I guess you’re right,” Virgil’s blushing again. It’s true, that he doesn't like to leave things unsaid or unfinished: it makes him terribly worried, and the only solution he’s found is confronting them head on. Janus and Virgil had met long ago, when they were both younger: Janus had just started medical practices, and done work for Virgil. It ultimately failed and hurt Virgil more, which sparked deep hatred on Virgil’s side and a continued regret on Janus’s. They eventually reconciled, reuniting later when Virgil started out as a nurse, and everything had become much better.

“Now, get back out there, darling. You’ll do great.”

“...Thanks, Janus,”

“Anytime,” and with that, Janus hangs up the phone to return to Logan. Virgil sighs to himself, and exits the stall: in the mirror, he sees his makeup all ruined. He washes it off, cleans his hoodie (which is relatively drier now) and ends up taking off the damp shirt as well. Thank goodness he’s wearing an undershirt: walking out topless seems hellish, and this only slightly better.

It’s been a while since Virgil has gone anywhere without his hoodie on or makeup. He barely recognizes himself, and he sees this face every morning. But… it’ll be what it’ll be. Checking his phone, Virgil realizes that he’s been in the bathroom for… nearly two hours?

Oh my god, I hope Roman hasn’t left yet- Virgil flies out of the bathroom, holding his damp dress shirt and beloved hoodie in one crooked arm. Scanning the room, he notices Roman sitting at one of the small square tables watching some guy sing “Mad World” somewhat decently. Virgil sighs in relief, and walks over and sits right in front of him.

“Princey, thank god you’re still here. I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” Virgil says, his voice softer than usual from all the crying. Roman looks at him, a smile curving on his features.

“Hello there, you’re- you’re pretty,” Roman slurs slightly mid sentence, and Virgil gapes. Roman is drunk. Very drunk. So drunk, that he doesn’t recognize Virgil without his makeup and hoodie. While Virgil stares openmouthed, Roman reaches over and squeezes his bicep. “Ooh, you’re so strong too! Pretty face, and a hot body-”

“Roman, you seriously don’t recognize me? Honest to god?” Virgil insists. Roman blinks slowly, but there’s no spark. Roman seriously has no idea, Virgil’s a stranger.

He should probably bring him home.

Or… he can start over. Roman won’t remember it anyway: this might be his only chance.

“I think I’d remember such a handsome prince” Roman huffs. Virgil, unsurprisingly, blushes.

“That’s very kind of you. You don’t look half bad yourself,” Virgil purrs.

“Oh- you’re a flirt too! I like you,” Roman smiles widely, “Do you want to get another drink?”

“I think you’ve had enough… do you want to go up and sing instead?” Virgil suggests, scooching closer to Roman. Touching his clothed shoulder, he feels how warm Roman is. Roman snuggles up to Virgil just a tad- he’s over affectionate, and with no filter, and no sense. It’s adorable, and Virgil is glad he got here when he did, because who knows who would take advantage of this cuddly child-like man?

Now he understands why Roman needs a drinking buddy.

“I love singing, I’m very good at it. I like Disney too. Do you like Disney?”

“Yes, I like Disney,” Virgil snorts. They’ve had this debate over and over: the both of them like the franchise, though Virgil sees the darker bits that Roman tends to ignore.

“You wanna- you wanna sing Love is an Open Door with me? I like that song, it’s a good song-” Roman rambles, looking excited. Virgil hates public speaking, let alone public speaking, but… he doesn’t know anyone here, what’s the issue?

“That sounds good. Let’s go sign up, shall we?” Virgil suggests, Roman excitedly clinging to Virgil’s arm.

“You’re so cold, it’s so nice,” Roman murmurs, rubbing his face on Virgil’s bare shoulder. Virgil can’t help but smile: his heart is beating fast, but in a fantastic way. Vincent doubletakes as they make it to the bar.

“Hey you two- heading home? Ro looks pretty slammed…”

“I’ll take him home in a bit. He wants to do one more song,” Virgil explains. Roman giggles, and Virgil’s heart does another flip. His smile widens.

“Ah, sorry folks- Roman can’t do another one. He’s already exhausted the limit of five: you should have heard him sing some of those. An undercover celebrity, he is,” Vincent reaches over and mussies Roman’s hair, to which Virgil slaps his hand away.

“Princey, did you hear? You can’t sing another one,” Virgil tells him, his voice still soft.

“Aww, really? I wanna- I wanna sing some ‘ore,” Roman pouts, his lower lips trembling. Virgil kisses his cheek, just a peck really, that’s all he can manage without exploding. Roman turns on a dime, sadness morphing to elation all at once. He leans in for another, to which Virgil declines, pushing him away with a palm.

“Hey, how about I sing a song for you, huh? How does that sound?” Virgil asks, nervous beyond anything at singing in front of all these people, but Roman seems so ecstatic at the thought that Virgil knows he’ll be going through with it.

“You sing? But you just-” gawks Vincent. Virgil glares at him.

“Don’t act so surprised. And yes, I do. Just didn’t feel like saying it. Totally. When do I go up?”

“After this guy,” Vincent points at the person going on stage, and Virgil steels himself for this experience. It’s okay, you’re the only one who’ll remember. It’ll be fine. Virgil starts walking closer to the stage, Roman hanging on him still. “Hey, dude, are you going to tell me what you’re singing? I’ll set it up for you,”

“I got it. We’re good, right Princey?”

“I’m so good, I’m the best, you’re so nice, gonna sing a song for me-” Roman rambles. Virgil shakes his head good-humoredly, adoring this side of him. Not suave or fanciful at all: only cute. They come to a table right by the stage, miraculously empty and clean.

“Okay, Ro, you wanna sit here and watch?” Roman smiles, nodding quickly, and plops down in one of the chairs. Virgil goes beside him, fanning his confidence by reaching for his large hand. Just like in the car, Roman takes it and squeezes.

“I’m so moved, you’re going to sing something for me! So romantic!” Roman gushes. Virgil blushes, rubbing his thumb on Roman’s sun-kissed hand.

“I’ll sing it just for you: you know, I really don’t like public speaking. Or any of this stuff… but you’re not going to remember me, so I don’t think it’ll matter. I really really like you, Roman. I’ve known you for a while, so it wasn’t all at once, but you tease me with all of your flirty winks and tell me about how much you get around and today, calling me pretty- you’re destroying me, and you don’t even notice. You never do, and- Janus said that I’d be good for you. Grounding. A good boyfriend. I don’t know what he sees in me, but clearly you don’t see that. You like- you like grand gestures, romance, and flirting… I can’t do any of that. Except for today, when I’m not nervous anymore, because you’re never going to remember this whole thing. It’ll just be for me. Just for me to remember, for you to enjoy now. You’ll never know how much I love you anyway, so it’s just for me. Just for poor heartsick Virgil,” Virgil tells him, under the lights and despite the singing in the background. Roman blinks a few times, not understanding.

“I- uhm… I don’t understand, whadda ya mean?” Roman squints at him. Virgil sighs, presses their foreheads together and gets up.

“Doesn’t matter. I only want to say… whatever, it doesn’t matter. It’s my turn to go,” and Virgil pulls away, waving slightly to the confused man, and hunches his shoulders to make him look small as he walks to the center of the stage. Scrolling through the music (it operates sort of like a karaoke machine), Virgil selects a song he knows.

Virgil doesn’t particularly like his singing voice: his mother loves it, would sing along with him during Nightmare Before Christmas, and told him it was very nice. It’s kind of low, gentle, and the words flow into the next.

“The dawn is breaking, a light shining through… you’re barely waking, and I’m tangled up in you,” Virgil sings quietly. It’s awkward, and he can’t look out into the audience at all, and he hears them ignore him. He takes a deep breath, and continues. “I’m open, you’re closed. Where I follow, you’ll go. I worry I won’t see your face light up again,”

People are starting to notice Virgil, as his voice rises, and it’s frightening but also exhilarating. He refuses to make eye-contact with them, unlike Roman who always does, and speaking of him- it’s very clear that Roman’s watching, enraptured. Virgil can practically feel it.

“Even the best fall down sometimes, even the wrong words seem to rhyme- Out of the doubt that fills my mind, I somehow find you and I, collide,” Someone in the crowd whistles, causing Virgil to struggle a bit, but he picks it up right after. He’s imagining that it’s only him and Missy and- Roman. Virgil glances up at Roman barely: he’s awestruck, and it fills Virgil’s heart with glee.

“I’m quiet you know.You make a first impression. But I’ve found I’m scared to know you’re always on my mind,” Virgil messes up the lyrics a bit, but no one notices at all. They’re cheering him on, listening attentively- it helps him go on, return his gaze to the floor.

“Even the best fall down sometimes, even the stars refuse to shine, out of the back you fall in time, somehow find, you and I- collide,” Virgil’s voice is still quiet: even as his confidence rises, he can’t seem to raise it at all.

“Don’t stop here. I’ve lost my place. I’m close behind,” Virgil used to sing this song with his parents, when he was young: his mother and father would sing and dance with him. It has sentimental value, it reminds him of childhood and pain and love and survival. They used to sing it to him, comforting him with the words. He knows every one.

“Even the best fall down sometimes. Even the wrong words seem to rhyme. Out of the doubt that fills your mind, you finally find that you and I collide. Finally find that you and I collide. You finally find you and I collide,” the music plays for a while longer, with Virgil humming along rhythmically. When it finally fades out, Virgil scurries off the stage to thunderous applause. It is way too much attention, all at once. On his way, he grabs Roman’s sleeve, dragging him out as people fawn. As they rapidly exit, Vincent calls out from the bar.

“Hey, grump- I don’t sing, my ass! You sing gorgeous! Come back anytime, with or without Roman!” Virgil glares at him, and then he’s out into the parking lot.

“Phew- that was- oh my god, that was exhilarating. Roman? What did… what did you mmfp-” Virgil was smiling until he was cut off by Roman’s lips on his. Virgil moans into it: it’s more decadent than he could have ever imagined. Roman’s lips are deceptively soft and taste like strawberries. He finally moves back for air, and Virgil leans against the car, holding his mouth. Did… did that just happen? It takes a second to register that a) Roman kissed him, and b) that it doesn’t matter because he’s not in his right mind. It’s worth nothing beyond right now… but it means so so much. Virgil will remember this for the rest of his godforsaken life.

“Ro-Roman, what was that for?” Virgil murmurs, touching his lips addictively.

“You’re the kindest guy I’ve ever met. God, I want to take you home. Handsome, and sweet, and caring and a voice of an angel. I wish I met you forever ago,” Roman says, approaching closer to Virgil until he’s pressed up against the car and can feel Roman’s warmth, “Fuck… I don’t even know your name, but you’re… you’re magic,”

“You’re making me seem better than I am, really,” Virgil flushes, feeling all sorts of fuzzy feelings. Roman chuckles, coming in closer to lean his head on Virgil’s shoulders.

“I don’t… I don’t think I am, beautiful… I just- I don’t want to go home alone tonight. I’m so freaking lonely, all the goddamn time. So lonely… it’s only me, and no one really cares, when it comes down to it,” Roman sighs, on the verge of tears. Virgil is dumbfounded: who would have thought? Roman, the Prince of Theatre, who sings songs to children and flirts easily, and never is by himself because he’s a magnet for conversation… is lonely.

“Maybe we can be lonely together,” Virgil whispers aloud, meaning it to be internal but slipping out anyway.

“Can… can we?” Roman pleads, “Please?” Virgil exhales: he’s so cute. Remember though- he’s not going to recall any of this. It hurts, all of a sudden, that Virgil is at once Roman’s world and at the same time an illusion.

“Alright, alright. We’ll see,” Virgil smiles at him. Roman leans down for another kiss, and now Virgil lets him. What’s the harm? I’m the only one who will hurt. I can take it. “I should take you home now, huh? You can’t drive, you’re drunk,”

“Pfft- I am not-”

“You are,” Virgil rolls his eyes, unlocking his car, “Now get in.” Roman shuffles his feet around. Virgil glares.

“In the car, Princey, you have to go home now,” he demands. Roman frowns, looks away stubbornly. And, just like a puppy, he’s adorable but persistent as all hell. Roman murmurs something under his breath, inaudible. Glancing at him kinder, Virgil asks him to speak up.

“I don’t wanna go home, I wanna stay with you,” Roman mumbles, slightly louder. And, Virgil is struck right in the heart. My god, is it even legal to be that cute? Virgil sighs: he should bring Roman to his house, that’s what he had asked before he was intoxicated, and he definitely can’t take advantage of him, but… those eyes are begging for him to stay with him. He can’t refuse.

“Okay, okay, you win. It’s going to be impossible to explain this to you in the morning, but whatever! I’ll drive you to my house,” Virgil agrees, and the look of pure elation on Roman’s face is more than reward enough. Though Virgil has to help Roman’s wobby body into the passenger seat and buckle him up, he can’t stop smiling.

Even as he starts the car to drive it home.

Even as Roman says he’s going to be sick.

Even as he has to rush Roman upstairs to his apartment before he pukes all over the place, Virgil is happy.

Roman hugs Virgil’s middle after he cleans him up. Missy and Roman get along swimmingly, Virgil offering to let him hold her, and Roman enraptured by her. He’s enthralled by Virgil lending him a toothbrush, seemingly blessed by the offering of a piece of toast to calm his stomach at the small kitchen bar. Roman stares at it, sitting on one of the stools.

“Why are you so nice to me?” he wonders. Virgil frowns. Are people usually unkind to you?

“This is normal, Princey. People are supposed to look out for one another,”

“Oh. Yeah,” Roman says to himself. Virgil can’t hold back from reaching over and kissing his forehead.

“Anytime you need, I’ll be nice to you. I don’t mean to be so prickly: it’s a defense mechanism. You only have to tell me you’d like some care, and I’ll give you everything,” Virgil tells him. This charming man, he hiccups and his eyes water as he blubbers. Virgil is good with a lot of things: crying crushes are not one of them. “Hey, no crying, don’t cry! Let’s go to bed, huh? Yeah, that sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

Roman makes a pitiful little nod, and Virgil leads him to the bedroom. There’s only one… so either they share, or Virgil’s going to the couch. So, he tucks Roman into the warm black duvet and brushes his forehead as a way of good night. As he goes to leave, Roman grabs onto his arm.

“Stay with me? Please?”

“Ro, I don’t- I don’t think this is a good idea, buddy. No, it’s really not a good idea,” his heartbeat is picking up again, and Virgil bites his lip nervously. Roman ignores it, pulls his hand to kiss it.

“Stay with me, princess,” he purrs. Are you trying to kill me? Roman’s too attractive, too flirtatious. And Virgil’s too head over heels to say no. And that’s how he finds himself sharing his bed with Roman King.

Who fell asleep almost immediately, and snuggled up right into Virgil’s side. So close, that there is a permanent blush on Virgil’s face and his breath on his neck. Okay, this is not going to work. I’m never going to get to sleep if this goes on. Fuck.

Virgil shuffles away, attempting to get out of bed and go sleep on the couch, but Roman slings and arm over him and growls “Stay”.

Well, can’t argue with that, now can I?

~~~~~~

When morning filters through the window, Roman blinks awake. Jiminy Cricket, does his head hurt. Ugh, what happened last night? This isn’t his bed: it’s not colourful at all, all blacks and purples. For goodness sakes, the curtains that are blocking most of the sun have spiders on it. Roman rubs his eyes: did he go home with someone? He must’ve. But who? Roman can’t really recall: he doesn’t remember talking to anyone. After Virgil ran out to the bathroom, Roman just wanted to drink and be alone. Anyone who approached him was turned away instantly by one of his cold stares.

He couldn’t help but feel as though it was sort of his fault: he said he’d be with him. That Roman would leave Virgil alone. And yet… he was in the bathroom for two hours, and not once did Roman gather the courage to go and check on him. And then what? Then he went to some strangers home and left Virgil?

What kind of asshole would do that to someone? Virgil, despite how he acts, is amazingly perceptive. He can tell when something is wrong, it’s why he’s so good as a nurse… he’s just genuinely a good person. And Roman left him?

He can’t imagine he’d do that to the emo, even drunk. He wouldn’t be able to forget Virgil, would he?

No, he really has no clue.

Think, Roman, think- he presses his hands to his pounding head, as if it would squeeze out a memory. All that happens is scraps of a song. Oh great, not only do I have no idea where I am but now there’s a song stuck in my head. Wonderful.

“Even the best fall down sometimes, even the wrong words seem to rhyme-” he murmurs under his breath. Then an image follows right after: a man, holding onto the microphone at the bar, singing the words so soft, so sweetly. It makes his heart pang, it’s so lovely. Is that the guy I went home with? Roman thinks to himself. He focuses harder on the memory. The man, he looks up shyly, nervously, and meets eyes with Roman.

God, he’s fucking beautiful. Love at first sight? Maybe not, but whatever this is, it’s as close to that as it could possibly be. It makes Roman feel all warm and bubbly inside. He bites his lip and looks at the ceiling of this stranger’s bed. Things come back in bits and pieces all out of order; kissing that man by a car, his car- that man laughing at him as he gawks at his, what is that, a spider?- the man sitting at a table in the bar right next to him, letting him nuzzle his shoulder (embarrassing, it makes Roman blush he was so mushy)- a kiss to his forehead to calm him, wiping away drunken tears ever so gently. His hands felt baby-soft, despite the obvious muscular frame he sported.

Who is he…?

“I’ll sing it just for you: you know, I really don’t like public speaking…” in his mind, this man’s voice follows: it’s soft, muted a touch. Focus now, Roman, you’ve almost got it-

“You’re not going to remember me, so I don’t think it’ll matter…” Of course it matters! I’m not a blackout drunk! Roman wants to scream.

“I really really like you, Roman,” his voice, saying such kind words, is like what he’d imagine an angel would sound like. Or some sweet interaction that only comes between A-List celebrities in a scripted movie.

“I’ve known you for a while…” Okay, finally, getting somewhere. He knows him? Does he do tech at the theatre or something? It’s a possibility.

“You’re destroying me, and you don’t even notice…” Well, that’s harsh. Kind makes him feel guilty: this gorgeous meal of a man was lusting over him, and he didn’t even notice? What kind of idiot-

“Janus said that I’d be good for you. Grounding. A good boyfriend…” So he knows the snakey doctor. That can either be very good or very bad: is this fellow a sleazeball? No, Roman assures himself blushing heavily, He’s too sweet to do that. Too kind and loving. Did you see him sing that song? Just for you too- and he looked so nervous! Precious!!

“I don’t know what he sees in me, but clearly you don’t see that…” Roman wants to pull his hair out. Did Roman say or do something wrong? Did he ruin his chances with this Adonis, because if he did, he’ll be furious.

“You like grand gestures, romance, and flirting… I can’t do any of that,” I don’t care! I don’t care about any of that! I just want someone to hold my hand and not treat me like shit! Just a sweet cute guy!

“I’m not nervous anymore, because you’re never going to remember this whole thing,” Ah, sorry to break it to you, but hey, I’m remembering! And I’m going to track you down!

“You’ll never know how much I love you anyway, so it’s just for me…” he sounds melancholy, so very sad, and Roman wants to hold him. Hold him and kiss the top of his head and make him feel better. This person, he doesn’t deserve to be ignored. Why was Roman ever-

“Just for poor heartsick Virgil,” Roman’s mouth runs dry. Virgil? Virgil. He- the man he went with- Virgil. Virgil was singing to him, with that angelic voice, Virgil drove him to his house because he didn’t want to leave him alone and every other little wonderful thing, the forehead kisses and the smiles and the hands- oh my stars, I am an imbecile.

How didn’t he notice? How Virgil would bite back at him whenever he flirted with him teasingly, how Virgil wilted whenever Roman talked about his relationships, how careful and thoughtful he was with every move, hell, he even agreed to go out to the bar with him to find some other guy because he was worried for Roman’s safety.

How was I so blind that I missed the perfect man right in front of my eyes?

And this… this must be Virgil’s house. It’s… very Virgil. Is that a Nightmare Before Christmas poster? Yes, it is- how wonderful. How him.

How didn’t Roman notice? It’s that classic blunder, unseeing of the person right in front of him. How did he not see how romantic Virgil is? Little gestures, smart moves, kindness. Thoughtful. He had said that he wasn’t a romantic, but by Jove- he’s sweet. His mind can’t stop repeating Virgil’s soft singing and his gentleness. God, it’s so beautiful it’s painful. He should tell him to go without makeup more often. And a shirt. Yes, without a shirt sounds good. Undercover buff, much?

His mind swirls with the knowledge of Virgil.

Oh shit- how is he going to face Virgil now? He’s in his house, he’s most likely in the living room: should he just pretend like he doesn’t remember?

Roman’s a good actor, he could pull it off: but Virgil would still be wanting and lonesome. And Roman would know, and that hurts. He won’t do that to him, not anymore.

He should just come out, say that he remembers and... ask him out on a date. A proper one. They both have the day off today, it could be now!

They’d do Virgil things, things that make the emo happy, maybe a zoo or watch movies or coffee shops or whatever. And... Roman will hold his hand, hold him, and hold him and hold him. Yes, yes, this is good.

Roman wishes he had more time to plan. Time to get flowers, or chocolates or anything, really. Wait, you don’t even know if he’ll say yes! Maybe he’s so embarrassed by the whole interaction that-

Wait.

Is that pancakes?

Roman sniffs at the air: yes, it is. Blueberry ones, at that. And coffee. His stomach rumbles, and hunger is enough to spur him out of bed. His legs are wobbly, and his head is swimming, but he makes it out of the room eventually.

“Oh hey, Princey, finally decide to wake from your endless slumber, huh?” Virgil teases. His makeup has returned, as usual. He’s wearing another hoodie, a black one, and it’s hanging off his shoulders as he flips pancakes. Roman’s mouth runs dry. “Also, umm, sorry about not taking you to your apartment. I didn’t want to leave you alone.”

“Oh... it’s fine,” Roman sounds odd, even to himself, and Virgil gives him a skeptical look. “Heh, anyone who makes me good morning pancakes is alright in my book!”

Virgil snorts, and pushes a plate over the kitchen bar for Roman to sit and eat.

“How’s your head? What do you- you know, never mind,” Virgil ducks his head into the fridge to receive some maple syrup, “You like it warmed?”

“Uh... if it isn’t an issue,” Virgil casts another weird look to Roman: is he being too nice? Roman can’t help it, how could he be rude? He puts his syrup in the microwave, with the long pale fingers.

“I uh- Virgil,” Roman starts, more nervous than anything, “Oh fuck, this is hard but- I uh-”

“You’re making me worried, Princey, spit it out or shut up and eat my food,” Virgil glares. Roman gulps. It’s like a bandaid, rip it off, come on, just spit it out-

“I REMEMBER! I remember everything, I always do after I’m drunk, it’s why I get a buddy, because I always remember in the morning and I hate what I’m like when I’m intoxicated, because I always remember, I think I’ve said that a few times- uh, Virgil, are you okay?” Roman finally looks up at Virgil- or rather down, as the man has crumpled to the floor in a heap. Has he fainted? Roman gets up and squats next to him.

“Virgil?” he whispers into his ear, poking at him. Virgil jolts up, narrowly missing a collision with Roman’s head as he sits up straight. He groans, and puts his head in his hands to try and hide his full-faced blush.

“Fuck, I’m such an idiot, oh my god, I’ve made a total fool of myself- oh god, please just leave me alone to die, Roman, just go,” he yells. Roman chuckles, and peels Virgil’s hands from his face. He seems about to cry, moisture glistening at his eyes. Roman’s heart can’t take it: he thinks he looks foolish? No, never.

Roman kisses the corners of his eyes.

“You’re not an idiot, you’re most certainly not a fool. I’m sorry I didn’t notice you before at the office. I’m the only idiot between the two of us, because I didn’t see how wonderful you were until you had to be blatant about it. I’m so very sorry, and in your debt. I feel silly to even try and ask, but would you… perchance, want a real date? One where I’m not flirting with other people- only with you, you Incredible Sulk,” Roman consoles Virgil pulling him into an embrace.

“Really?” Virgil asks.

“Honestly,”

“Then yeah, yeah, that sounds okay. I uh… I don’t do a whole lot so-” Roman cuts Virgil off by pressing his finger to his lips. Virgil raises his eyebrows.

“How’s right this second sound?”

“Yeah- uhm, that works for me-”

“Fantastic! And I believe your pancakes are burning,” Roman notes, laughing as Virgil shoots up cursing colourfully as he discards a very black pancake. Even as the man squawks and yells and forces Roman back into his seat, he can’t help but feel fulfilled. After the pancake fiasco is remedied, Virgil breathes a sigh of relief and smiles at Roman.

“Sorry about that, Princey,”

“Hey, it’s no problem for me! Kind of entertaining, actually,” Roman snickers, earning him a slap upside the head. And then, just to push Virgil’s buttons, he snakes his hand through his dark locks and kisses him deeply over the counter. It’s a knee-shaking kiss, a heart-stopper, a signature Roman smooch. One he should’ve given Virgil last night, but was too drunk to make happen. It seems like Virgil likes it too, if the noises are any indication. Virgil is the first to pull back for air, and presses his chest, gasping.

“Oh my goodness, was that too much? Are you okay, Virgil?” Roman frets. Virgil, he recalls, has some sort of horrible cocktail of medical issues. Most he’s grown out of, but the effects still linger.

“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s cool. Hah, my heart’s still beating. It’s stopped once before, and I have a defibrillator in my room but- I’m okay. I guess that just means I’m fragile, right? Gotta be careful with my heart, both ways, alright?” A still beating heart. How romantic, how delightful.

“Now you must stay with me, so I can restart your heart whenever it’s required!” Roman announces. Virgil rolls his eyes and scoffs, despite his small smile, then returns to finishing off the end of his pancake batter. Roman pokes his bicep, his deceptively strong bicep, to pester him into an answer. Virgil catches it, squeezes.

“Hey! My heart’s still beating, you’re going to have to try harder,” he teases. It has to be the most lovely seductive challenge he’s ever been issued. And you said you weren’t a romantic.

His heart still beats, and it beats just as hard for Roman as the other way around.

How positively lovely.

~~~~

And from that day on, the entire pediatric office would all go out once a month to a particular bar’s karaoke night, and Roman and Virgil would sing many songs but always one. They always sang one at the end, and it was so beautiful that people cry every time. It’s longing and love and acceptance.

They like to hold hands while they do it, perhaps to show off their relationship… or maybe just the matching rings that adorn their fingers.

~~~~~

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