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pradaksj · 4 years

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Safety Net || part one. (m.)

↳do not repost, translate, or claim as your own.

❧ summary ⟶ on new year’s eve, you and jungkook reflect on each other’s entire year together.

❧ pairing⟶ jungkook/reader

❧ genre⟶ enemies to friends, friends to lovers, roommates au, fluff, angst, pining, eventual smut, boxer!jungkook. two-part series.

❧ word count ⟶ 24,000+

❧ warnings ⟶ mentions of oral and sex but nothing explicit or descriptive. fight scene that involves drunk man. mentions of bullying (in the past).

❧ music⟶ safety net, selfish, stuck on you, exile, +more

❧ a/n (please read) ⟶ this story switches a lot from past & present, I color coded borders to make it easier to tell :) dark purple = entering/still in the past, light purple= present, also this is unedited so sorry for any mistakes 😭 ill come back to edit a lot of things soon.

01 | 02

“Oh perfect, y/n!” Hobi stops you dead in your tracks before you could completely make your way onto the living room, “You don’t mind grabbing some more firewood from my car while I finish these up,” he says, currently too busy melting the chocolate for the s’mores he was making.

You see tonight was New Year’s Eve, and you and a couple of other close friends had decided to rent out a cabin in celebration of the new year instead of going out to some end of the year party, choosing comfort over a night of wild drinking. In the end it didn’t make much of a difference, because the moment you saw Jimin and Taehyung walk in with a pack of soju and other cheap liquor in their hands, you knew that by the end of the night someone, if not everyone, was going to end up completely wasted.

And of course, you were right. After hours of being outside in the cold, with the boys drinking as if there was no tomorrow, everyone had now made their way back inside, complaining that it was too cold outside and that the cabin came with an indoor fireplace for a reason.

Never one to drink too heavy, you had kept your drinking at a moderate pace, only allowing yourself to reach a relaxed kind of buzz. Namjoon and Yoongi on the other hand were currently debating on whether the US’s landing of the moon was nothing more than a fake ploy to beat Russia and was instead filmed on some movie set.

Jin and his girlfriend acted as measly facilitators between the two men who had been bickering back and forth for the past hour, their slurred speeches making it difficult to take either one seriously.

Jimin, for his part, had attempted to keep his drinking at a minimal but with Taehyung acting as his partner in crime, the two were now playing an unbalanced game of ping-pong, both of them looking as if at any moment they were going to knock out on the table. And Jungkook was— well where the hell was Jungkook?

But before you could dwell too much on the thought, Hobi’s voice snaps you back to reality, “pleaseeee, I’ll even add an extra chocolate square to your s’more, just like how always like em,” he flashes you a smile, your roommate of 3, going on 4, years knowing just what to say to convince you, not that you needed much of it.

Minus Hobi, you were probably the person closest to being sober, and you did not want to imagine the different disastrous scenarios that would happen if he sent anyone who wasn’t yourself out there. You also highly doubted any of them would even be up for it, and so with that you just let out a small groan, mumbling, “Where are your keys?”

Excitedly he points to the kitchen island, where his Hyundai’s keys laid across, “I parked right near the lake,” he says, immediately causing you to look back at him, brows furrowed in confusion, “No one wanted to carry the wood from here to the bonfire earlier, so I just parked near the lake to save our energy,” you roll your eyes, “Come on, it’s just a 2 minute walk at most, and I’m sure there’s still people celebrating across the lake as well so you don’t feel so scared, but if you want I can ask Jungkook to go wi—”

“It’s fine, it’s fine—” you interrupt, grabbing the keys and beginning to make your way out, quickly putting on your coat because God knew how cold it was outside. “He’s probably asleep already, knowing him,” you chuckle, the boy who Hobi had introduced you to in the last year and had been living with you two as well, had habit’s that were all too predictable by now. And though you knew he’d be more than glad to get up from bed and help, for now at least, you wanted him to rest as he, himself, was probably tired from carrying things back and forth all day in the help of preparing everything. “I’ll be quick,” you say.

“Make sure that no wooden splinter cuts you,” he shouts out before the wooden door closes, having been the victim to such cuts all day, “and call me if you find it too heavy!”

Beep. Beep.

Double clicking the lock button, you grunt as you try to simultaneously carry the uneven pieces of firewood and place Hobi’s keys back into your jacket’s pocket.

“Oh my God—” you mumble to yourself, frustrated by the lack of cooperation from the keys. The wood was now slipping from your hands, its gritty texture eager to leave you a cut and as predicted it does.

Wincing in pain, you uncaringly drop the pieces of wood, worried more about the cut on your hand than what had fallen on the ground below. Luckily the cut wasn’t too bad, nothing a little soap and water couldn’t fix, but the tingly sting in your hand meant that you’d have to wait a while before picking the wooden pieces back up.

Around you, you could hear the sound of different groups of friends and family celebrating with their own events, spotting different bonfires all around the lake. Glancing at the time on your phone, it currently read 11:00, only one more hour until the new year. A part of you was tempted to walk further down the path that led to the lake’s shore. Maybe even secretly wait so that you could watch the fireworks these groups of people most likely had shoot up into the sky at 12. Especially because you knew going back to the cabin, no one would want to come back out with you to watch. Honestly, how bad did they need their wood?

And so by convincing yourself, you begin to walk further towards the lake, careful not to trip on any of the scattered rocks that surround you. By the time you made it down, you were surprised to see just how far you were from other families, most, if not all, of them being directly across the lake. Honestly you wouldn’t have preferred it any other way.

You didn’t want to seem creepy, but the sight was somewhat comforting, the kids running around in their winter gear while their parents and friends all surrounded their bonfire, sticks and marshmallows in hand.

Not to mention that tonight was a full moon, the milky glow from the moonlight reflecting against the ripples of the lake, and the tiny stars which surrounded the magnet that was the moon only adding to the grand scenery in front of you. Usually you weren’t a sucker for these kinds of things, but wow did it look amazing. The person who’d really enjoy something like this was probably—

“Jungkook,” you breathe out, confused if you were seeing things because there he was, not too far from where you stood, sitting on a giant rock with his feet dangling, careful to not touch the freezing water. His right hand throwing the small pebbles that were near him to the lake. Not too hard, and not too soft. Clearly in his own world.

A small smile graces your lips, as you watch him continue, the lake not being the only thing the moonlight was hitting. His glimmering doe shaped eyes focused on the view in front of him, and you could only wonder what had him in such deep thought, but instead not wanting to bother, you slowly began to walk back, careful to not to make any loud noises.

One Step. Two Steps. Three Steps. Crrreaaak.

Mentally, you groan at the sound of the branch breaking, hoping that it wasn’t loud enough for him to hear.

“Y/N?” he says unsurely, his attention snapping towards the sound, squinting while trying to make out your figure from afar. Your tensed shoulders drop in response. Deciding that there wasn’t much you could do, you turn around and walk towards him, feeling a little guilty that you’ve probably interrupted his time alone.

He watches as you make your way towards him, scooting to his left in order to make space for you because unbeknown to you, he was not at all bothered by your presence. In fact, he had just been thinking about you along with a question that had been looming over his head for quite some time. And the fact that you somehow managed to appear in this exact moment, almost as if it was fate, only left him in further awe.

“I thought you were asleep,” you chuckle, gently sitting down on the empty spot next to him, slowly rubbing your slightly cut hands together in an attempt to stay warm.

“I was going to sleep, but,” he pauses, “I just couldn’t,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair, “and well why waste such a good view by being in bed, am I right?,” he laughs before quickly noticing the fresh scar on your hand, “What happened?” he asks, eyebrows furrowing in concern.

You shrug your shoulders in response, “I came to grab some more firewood from Hobi’s car and well long story short, I dropped them and well I got left with this,” you laugh, not taking your tiny injury too seriously.

Opening up your hand to further show him, he carefully examines the pinkish-red scar which was now slightly swollen, sighing in disappointment, “Mm you should’ve gone to go get it disinfected,” he mumbles, slightly shaking his head as he decides that he wasn’t going to lecture you any further, for in the past year he’s learned that even someone as sweet as you, has their own buttons capable of being pushed.

Having pushed them many, many times before, tonight he just wanted you to feel relaxed and not have to worry about whether he’d say the wrong thing or not. Tonight… well tonight he just wanted for you to seek comfort in his presence, the same way he’d found comfort in yours along the way.

“It doesn’t hurt too much if I’m being honest,” you give him a small reassuring smile, if anything your hands felt more clammy than they did pain. The warm feeling in your chest only expanding to the point where you swore you could feel it at the bottom of your toes.

Honestly, it was a feeling you found yourself all too familiar with these days, and though you knew what it was, you were also unsure on how to act on it, fearful of ruining the friendship with Jungkook that had gone through several ups and downs this year. And so for you the easiest thing to do was to just avoid thinking about it and avoid talking about it.

But there was no denying that the rush of emotions you’d feel whenever you managed to crack a laugh out of Jungkook to the point where his nose would scrunch so high up that you were sure that those happy days would last forever, or the ticklish butterflies you’d feel in your stomach on movie nights where he’d randomly begin to twirl your hair with his fingers, and the rapid heartbeat you’d feel hitting against your chest after an argument over something so trivial, until of course after several days of the silent treatment, one of you would get over themselves and stubbornly apologize whether it be through words or actions, were nothing but love.

Because even in the good and bad of your friendship, the arguments and the laughs, the tears and the smiles, somehow along the way you had found yourself falling in love with the boy who was nothing more than a stranger a year ago today.

“50 more minutes,” he says under his breath, bringing you back to reality.

Awkwardly you smile, “Yeah…” you breathe, the cold crisp weather causing vapor to come out of your mouth, a sign that you were freezing despite having such a thick sweater on. Jungkook is quick to take notice, offering his own puffy jacket for you to wear, to which you quickly refuse, “Take it, I have a sweater underneath anyway,” he pressures. You find it doubtful that his black cotton turtleneck was going to be sufficient enough for him in this weather.

You giggle at his sweet gesture, finding it all too endearing, “I’m telling you I’m good,” you laugh, your shivering fingers telling a different story, “Until the clock strikes twelve at least,” you bargain, pushing the sweater in his hand away back towards him, “then I’ll go back to the warm cabin.”

He looks at you as if unconvinced, but decides to drop it and take your word for it. And if you somehow managed to weasel into staying any longer past 12, then he’d just have to forcefully carry you back to the cabin.

Soon a comfortable silence fills the air, the two of you appreciating not only the view but each other’s presence. How fitting was it that the person you met on New Year’s day last year was going to be the person you ended it with, and begin a whole ‘nother year with.

“Can you believe it’s been one whole year since we’ve met,” he suddenly breaks the silence, almost as if reading your mind. To that you let out a small breathy chuckle, in disbelief yourself. Time had gone both so slow and fast this year, it was fascinating really, how you could be both so aware and unaware that someone’s very own existence was beginning to take such a special place in your heart.

“It feels like,” you pause momentarily, a small gentle smile appearing on your face as you remembered your first encounter with Jungkook, not knowing that it’d only be the beginning to the originally rocky relationship you had with him, “It feels like it was only yesterday.”

December 31, 2018.

New Years Eve.

11:00 PM.

“Only one hour left until the new year everybody!” the DJ shouts onto his mic and over the blasting music of the party you were currently at, “Make sure you grab that special somebody before the clock strikes 12!”

“You heard him y/n, go grab a special somebody,” Hobi teases, the two of you currently sitting at the bar acting as mere spectators to the group of partygoers that were currently having the time of their life on the dance floor.

For both you and Hobi, this type of setting was a little… how could you describe it … out of place for the two of you, but after weeks of begging from both Jimin and Taehyung and a little added pressure from Namjoon and Yoongi, the two of you now found yourselves here drinking the final night of 2018 away.

“Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny,” you playfully roll your eyes, grabbing the shot glass full of tequila and downing the surprisingly smooth liquor. Hobi follows suit and chugs down his own. A squirmful look on his face following soon after. “Maybe if I drink enough, I’ll find myself dancing just like them,” you laugh, glancing at your group of friends who were currently acting as the life of the party, Jimin busting out what he calls his most “exclusive” moves.

Hobi, unlike him, remains silent which catches your attention. His attention was now on his phone, his face now appearing both red and stressed out. Nosily, you stretch your neck and attempt to peak at what could possibly have your roommate so worried, but Hobi’s quick to catch you. Immediately he pulls his phone towards his chest.

You gasp in dramatic fashion because one, your roommate wasn’t one to keep secrets from you, and two, well you were beginning to feel a little tipsy. “Now what could Jung Hoseok be hiding,” your words come out slightly slurred, a sign that the only thing you should be drinking from this point onward was some water.

“I’m not hiding anything,” he’s quick to respond, back on his phone but this time keeping it out of your reach, his fingers quickly tapping against the glass screen. You could only wonder who it was that had him typing as if his life depended on it.

“Come onnnnn,” you sing, playfully pushing his shoulder, “It can’t be that interesting, considering you don’t do much,” you pout. He looks up from his phone for a moment, but only to shoot you a glare, excusing your teasing with the fact that you were barely holding onto the state of being tipsy and on the brink of being considered drunk.

Hobi’s eyes quickly read the most recent text he’s received, rolling his eyes at whatever it was before sighing in distress, “You really wanna know?” eagerly you nod your head yes, “Well I was hoping he would be here so I could introduce you to him,” he gently shakes his head, clearly disappointed by tonight’s outcome.

“Ooooo who's the special person,” you quirk your brows up and down, but Hobi’s quick to shoot the idea down.

“Oh no, no, it’s not like that,” he laughs, “this person is a..” he pauses, trying to look for the best word to describe his relationship with said person, “Mm I guess we can call him a childhood friend,” he hums, “and well he’s been going through a bit of a tough time right now and well long before me and you ever met, he went out of his way to help me and well I think this time it’s only right that I’m there for him.” you tilt your head, slightly confused as to where this was going, “And sooo,” he sings, “I was hoping that by bringing you here and having you in a fun mood, that I could ask if he could stay at our place for a couple of months…”

You remain silent, Hobi’s words processing through your head one by one, an effect of the alcohol currently running through your system, “Only until he gets used to being in Seoul again, and finds some kind of solid ground here of course,” Hobi throws it in, worried that your silence meant rejection.

“Oh…” you mumble, thinking to yourself for a moment. Hobi’s friend huh? Well you and Hobi were like two peas in a pod, meaning whoever was a friend of his, was a friend of yours, point blank. You trusted that whoever this friend was, and whatever predicament they were in, chose to go to Hobi for the sole reason that Hobi was one of, if not the kindest person you’ve ever met, and was one of the very rare kind of people who made sure that whatever it was a person was going through, that they found a way to overcome it. And well you also assume that Hobi was going to take care of this person’s expenses … right?

You smile once you reach a decision, “Of course they can stay Hobi,” you laugh, a little offended that he thought you’d say no, but glad that he asked anyway.

Immediately Hobi breathes a sigh of relief, glad that he got that out of the way, “But he’s using your bathroom, make sure you tell him that!” you throw in, not wanting the order in which you had your things arranged to be touched with.

Hobi laughs in response, “I’ll make sure to tell Jungkook that,” so that was his name, Jungkook. Not too much of a common name in Korea, interesting, you think.

“So when do I get to meet our new temporary roommate?” you ask in eagerness, curiosity a driving force.

Hobi sighs recalling his text from not too long ago, “Well he was supposed to come here and celebrate tonight, giving you two a chance to meet beforehand, but,” he rereads the message on his phone, hoping the three bubbles would pop up at some point before scoffing and ultimately giving up, locking the screen, “I’m not entirely too sure if he’s going to make it.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you get up from the bar stool and stretch out your arms, yawning in turn, “Mm well I guess I’ll just meet him on move in day,” you joke around, glancing at the time on your phone, “but for now I need to go pee before the countdown, there’s only like 10 minutes left,” you exclaim, surprised by how fast the hour had gone by. Hobi nods in response, getting up himself and making his way to the dance floor, joining your group of friends.

And so you begin to walk towards the ladies’ room, humming yourself a tune over the EDM music that was currently close to rupturing your eardrum. How people liked this kind of music was something you’d never understand, but to each their own right? Luckily you weren’t as drunk as you thought you were, the effects of the tequila only acting as something quick and not long lasting. Now in more of a buzzed state than “drunk”.

“MmmMmmMmm,” you hum, pushing the door of the ladies room and making your way into one of the stalls. But what you saw once you opened the restroom stall was … um …. it was safe to say that you were shocked at the sight in front of you. Shocked to the point where you couldn’t even properly react, not even a shriek coming out of your mouth.

Instead you just stood there, wide eyed, at the sight of a brown haired woman on her knees, with her hair in a messy ponytail giving um … oral … on what you could only describe as a very very handsome man.

Now if you were to ask if he was really all that into it? Well it seemed a bit unclear considering how the two of you were now having a complete stare down, a shocked expression on your face while he had a stoic one on his, until slowly a small smirk began to appear on his face.

He scoffs before saying, “Enjoying the view?” and with that you finally shriek and quickly close the stall dorm, practically running out the door because not only were you embarrassed by the situation that just happened but still in complete shock.

“Oh my God,” you breathe out, leaning your head against the wall in an attempt to process what just happened. And once you did, you facepalmed yourself in frustration, mad at the reaction you had because God was that embarrassing.

You had acted as if you’d never seen, hell, as if you’d never done the dirty with someone, but for some reason walking in on someone receiving their um... pleasure… had you feeling like a kid who didn’t know about the birds and the bees. And his little comment only added salt to the wound, he probably thought you were enjoying the view with how long you had stayed there standing like an idiot!

“Start grabbing your partners everyone because the countdown is happening in exactly three minutes everybody! Three minutes till we enter 2019!” Three minutes?! You had to find your friends quick! Pushing off what happened to the back of your mind, you speed walk back to the main sector of the club, looking through the crowd of people in hopes of finding at least one of your friends.

“Where could he b—Ah!” you impulsively squeal once you spot Hobi along with the rest of your friends, quickly making your way towards them, Hobi spotting you as well.

“There you are! What took you so long?” Hobi asks, but just as you’re about to answer, a voice from behind interrupts.

“I caught traffic, and well parking was a bitch,” the voice, all too familiar, sends a feeling of panic through your body because turning to face the owner of said voice, was just as surprising as the scene you walked in on only moments ago.

“Y/N! This is Jungkook, Jungkook this is Y/N, my roommate I was telling you about,” Hobi shouts over the music, and all you can do is stare at the man in front of you wide eyed. Your mouth slightly agape in shock, while Jungkook on the other hand has a teasing grin on his face, as only the two of you knew what had transpired in the ladies’ restroom. He sticks his hand out for you to shake and you notice the small number of tattoos that cover his hand.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we got one minute on the clock! Start saying your goodbyes to 2018, and get ready to say hello to 2019!” The DJ shouts excitedly, lowering the music for the countdown that’s about to begin.

“Earth to Y/N?” Hobi says waving his hand in front of you, having left Jungkook with his hand open for quite some time now.

“Oh,” you say, bringing yourself back to reality and shaking his hand in return, but the moment you do he brings you in for a small friendly hug, “What a small world,” he whispers into your ear, winking at you as he pulls away.

Hobi, unaware of how you two originally met, rolls his eyes, “Hey, hey hey, she’s our roommate not some girl you can go messing around with,” Hobi says, “Now come on you two, there’s only 15 seconds left!” gently he shoves the two of you towards your groups of friends who were now wearing their New Year’s props which included giant sunglasses, feathered boa’s, and more.

“In 10, 9, 8 , 7, 6…” everyone begins to scream the numbers of the countdown, 2018 clearly leaving with a bang, “5,4,3!” you suddenly feel an arm wrap over your shoulder, and like in the movies a part of you expected it to be the man you just met, but thankfully enough it was Jimin who was clearly drunk, excited, and in clear need of catching his balance. But of course that didn’t mean someone didn’t have their eyes on you from afar…

“2, 1! Happy New Year!” The fog machine erupts and the strings of golden confetti begin to fall from the club’s ceiling. Cheers to the New Year.

Clutching your stomachs in laughter, the two of you poke fun at the recollection of that fatal first encounter, “I really walked in on you getting,” you heave in such a way that you’re incapable of completing the sentence, genuine laughter filling the air.

“Hey, you were the one who stood there like you’d never seen a—” playfully you push his shoulder before even he gets the chance to finish his own sentence.

“Like what you see?” you exaggeratingly mimic his voice from that night, lowering your voice by several octaves. He cries out in laughter, tears now forming in the corners of his eyes, feeling cringe at his choice of words from a year ago today. Who did he think he was? “The woman didn’t even bother to look up! Clearly you had her enamored in what she was doing!” you tease, and in response he wraps his arms around you in a playful manner, telling you that he didn’t want to hear any more.

“What even happened when I left?” you ask, curious to know the answer considering you only knew what you did afterwards.

“Well I overheard the DJ yell about the countdown so I had to cut it short, and well we exchanged numbers. I mean it wasn’t at all a drunk hookup or anything, I was sober, she was sober. I think I went out with her once afterward, but,” he shrugs his shoulders, “It was just meant to be a one time thing I guess,” he mumbles, shaking his head in slight shame and embarrassment. See a year ago, hookups like that were the norm for him, but a year ago he was also nothing like the person he was now. Was it for the better? He’d like to think so.

Shaking your head, you mumble, “To think our relationship would only get worse,” you stare at him accusingly, “no thanks to you!” He stays silent, not bothering to deny the accusation.

“Hey you didn’t make it any easier!” he huffs, “Do you need help with that? What’s that? I don’t think that should be placed there,” he mocks your questions from that day many months ago, move in day.

“I was just trying to be nice! Make things less awkward, you know?” you feel your cheeks get red, now seeing how pushy you had probably been.

He scoffs, “No you just didn’t want your things invaded with mine,” it was now your turn to stay silent.

“Mm,” you hum.

January 2019.

“I don’t think that should go there,” you whisper to Hobi, watching Jungkook place more of his things around your apartment, secretly hoping it was the last batch.

This had to at least be your 15th complaint today, but what bothered Jungkook more was that not only wouldn’t you tell it to his face, but they’d be said in such a superficial tone. He didn’t care if you were trying to be “nice”, it sounded fake and prissy and he’d prefer it if you could just shut up for one moment. People like you were just so… annoying, and to think he thought you were cute.

“Do you need help?” your voice interrupts his train of thought, your figure now looming over his shoulder, and attempting to look at the content of his cardboard boxes. Harshly, he closes the flaps, momentarily scowling at you before taking a deep breath and putting on his best face.

“No it’s fine, I’m almost done but thank you though,” he says, now his turn to be superficial.

“Oh well just let me know if you need anything,” you smile, as unbeknownst to Jungkook, you really were just this nice of a person. Yeah, things may still be a little awkward on your part because of what happened on New Years Eve, you of course having to pep talk yourself several times in the mirror this morning, but to you it was important you established some kind of friendship with your new roommate. Even if he wasn’t going to be here for long.

“I’m gonna go get us takeout,” Hobi announces, not only tired but hungry from having helped Jungkook carry his stuff upstairs to the apartment floor all day, because out of all days in the year, today the elevator just had to be out of service. “I’ll be back,” he says, grabbing his keys from the counter and making his way out. Leaving you and Jungkook to yourselves.

An awkward silence fills the living room air, Jungkook currently taking a small break on the long couch, while you sit on the short one, fidgeting with your fingers. Maybe you should make conversation? It wouldn’t hurt right?

“So Jungkook,” you begin nervously, he looks up from his phone and places his attention on you, a stoic expression on his face, “um..”, you mentally scold yourself for not already having a question prepared before speaking, “where are you from?”

Furrowing his eyebrows, he scoffs, “Korea?” he says, as if stating the obvious.

Feeling flustered, you reiterate your question, “No I mean like where did you move from, you know…” your voice lowers at the end.

He sighs before responding, his attention now back on his phone, “I was in the states for a while, but I’m originally from Busan.”

Immediately you light up, seeing this as an opportunity to further the conversation, “Oh I have a friend from there, I don’t know if you met him on New Years, but his name is Jimin!” you excitedly ramble, “He was the one with the dirty blonde hair, black turtleneck, sparkly jac—”

“Yeah I know,” Jungkook rudely interrupts, now getting up from the couch and walking towards his new room, “Let me know when Hobi’s back, yeah? I’m freaking starving,” and with that he enters his room and shuts the door, leaving you slightly taken back.

“Will do,” you quietly mumble to yourself, a little hurt to say the least by his cold action. Shrugging it off, you excuse it by assuming he was just grumpy. You were sure that he'd be more open to having conversation after settling his things in.

That night after cleaning a couple of your own things, and eating the food Hobi had brought, you remained in bed and on your laptop, Youtube surfing the rest of the night away. That was of course until you heard the sound of your restroom door opening and closing. Right away you get up, already knowing what transpired, but wanting to see the mess that was most likely made with your own two eyes.

Walking into your restroom, you’re immediately hit with the scent of your strawberry shampoo and lavender body wash mixed in with the foggy steam that was created, a result of an extremely hot shower. The sink, a travesty to look at, was spilled with water all over and you did not even want to get started on the “manly” products that were now side to side with yours behind the mirror’s cabinet. Meanwhile, your hair brush was covered in strands of dark brown hair that clearly weren’t yours. But the final straw? Finding the cap of your $100 dollar serum halfly screwed closed with remnants dripping down the bottle.

Shutting the cabinet, you practically stomp out of your restroom and immediately towards Jungkook’s door. Raising your hand to knock, you take in a deep breath, reminding yourself to be calm. Maybe Hobi didn’t tell him anything about using your restroom. This was only going to be a one time thing until you cleared it out with him.

Gently, you knock on his door, patiently awaiting his response. You could hear the sound of muffled music playing in the background, meaning it was probably much louder inside the room than out. Raising your hand to knock again, the door swings open just as you’re about to tap against the black wooden door. A shirtless Jungkook with your baby blue towel wrapped around his waist.

“Yes?” he smugly says, your cheeks almost an embarrassing shade of crimson. It’s hard to not look at what’s in front of you, but you manage.

“Oh um—” you fluster your words, “um —” you gulp before finding your words again, “I was hoping Hobi had told you about the bathroom situation…but um..I guess he didn’t so um yeah, my bathroom is only for me to us—”

“He did,” he cuts you off, huffing a small laugh.

“He what?” you asked, unsure of what he was referring to, or at least acting dense about it because you did not want to believe that the shirtless boy in front of you completely disregarded the simple rule he was supposed to follow.

“He told me about the whole bathroom rearrangement, buuuuttt,” he teases, “your restroom has the bigger shower and well add strawberry scented shampoo and lavender body wash into the mix and honestly it was a done deal for me,” he stretches his arms above himself, dramatically yawning, his abdomen stretching out in such a way that the towel on his waist was barely clinging onto its dear life.

“But—But—”

“But what?” he cocks his head to the side, amused by your panicked behavior, “It’s also the closest one to me so,” he shrugs his shoulders, “Well if that’s all you came here for then, goodnight,” he winks at you before turning around and slamming the door once again.

You stand there bewildered by what just happened, your mouth agape in shock. Did that really just happen or? Because if it did then he practically just told you that he didn’t give one single fuck.

Making your way back to your room, you’re unsure on how to feel about everything that just happened because sure you’ve encountered your fair share of rude people before but to live with one was a completely different story. And Jungkook wasn’t only rude, he was the smug kind, the “I know I’m good looking, so I can treat anyone the way I want to because my good looks will let me get away with it,” type of rude. Was it a little specific? Yes. But it’s true. Honestly, it was the type of person you thought only existed in rom-coms but clearly they exist in real life. Jungkook being a prime example of such an attitude.

“Just a couple of months,” you breathe out, throwing yourself onto your bed in exasperation, “until he gets settled down in Seoul,” you repeat Hobi’s words from New Years Eve to yourself, sighing before allowing slumber to sweep over you.

“So much for a couple of months,” you tease Jungkook, nudging his shoulder a little bit because a year later and he was still your roommate, and ironically it was you and Hobi who practically begged him to stay.

He scrunches his nose, “ I don’t see you complaining.”

You raise your hands in defense, “I’m just kiddinnn,” you sing, “What would I do without your buttermilk pancakes huh?” you grin at him, his eyes rolling playfully in return.

“Is that all you want from me? Pancakes!” he chuckles, “Ah I should’ve known,” he shakes his head. The two of you giggle at each other’s banter, his high pitched laugh truly infectious.

“What do you think y/n and Jungkook from the beginning of 2019 would think of this scene right now?” you ask, knowing the answer.

Jungkook ponders at the question for a moment before letting out a deep breath and answering, “Mm I think they’d have a hard time believing what’s in front of them, at least I would. I think you would be happy to see that your goal in becoming friends with your new roommate worked out just fine. It just took a bit of time was all…”

February 2019.

To say that you were struggling to live with Jungkook would probably be the biggest understatement of the year. From the constant use of your things without permission, to the blatant rude remarks he’d constantly throw at you, to the days where he’d be completely cold to you and the rest of the world, and don’t even let you get started on the constant women he’d bring over. You’d have to invest in some ear plugs soon if it kept going at the rate it was because at this point you knew Jungkook liked it um … rough … so to speak.

You found yourself asking Hobi, “Has he settled down yet?” wayyyy too often. Sometimes it felt like Jungkook was purposely baiting you to stoop to his level, like as if he was itching to play a game of cat and mouse. And so for you to continuously suck it up and put on a fake smile for him, only made him do more things to bother you.

He was like a mosquito pestering you at the back of your neck. He wouldn’t stop until he got his fangs, or whatever it was that mosquitos used to bite, into you. For what reason? You truly did not know, for you have been nothing but nice to him since the day he moved in.

You often wondered how Hobi could put up with it, you mean Jungkook wasn’t exactly mean to Hobi, but he did throw remarks and eye rolls here and there. The best way to describe it was that Jungkook was treating you two like punching bags, and a part of you wanted to know why? Not only why, but where? Where is Jungkook from? Why was he in the states? What made him come back? Why can’t he go back to Busan? Does he have family? How does Hobi even know the dude? Why does Jungkook wake up with a stick up his ass every morning? Why was Jungkook angry at the world and when did he decide that he was going to take it out on you two, especially you. Honestly you were unsure if you’d ever get answers to your questions, but it wouldn’t matter in a couple of weeks when he was gone, right?

Luckily though the only times you really did see Jungkook was on weekends, and even then if you weren’t out doing some nightly festivities then he was. Or while you went grocery shopping he was working out or something, Not to mention that weekdays you worked AM shifts at your job while Jungkook, who had been hooked up with a job at one of the coffee shop’s Hobi managed, worked afternoon to night shifts.

This meant that whenever you were going to work, Jungkook was catching up on his sleep and vice versa. But occasionally when you two did bump paths, let’s say going to your restroom, he definitely used those opportunities to try and get under your skin. Each and every time, failing to do so.

But today something was different. You weren’t sure if it was because as you were driving to work, coffee spilled onto your shirt at a speed bump because someone stole your favorite coffee thermo which had a securable lid. This then caused you to be 30 minutes late which then resulted in you receiving your first ever official warning. Or maybe it was because you had to not only stay an extra 30 minutes, but an extra hour because someone’s late night hook up the night prior kept you up and completely unfocused. You personally had chosen to go to sleep than stay up and listen to some girl screaming about how much deeper she wanted it while trying to type up your monthly report. And then of course who could forget the cherry on top? Coming back home to that same certain someone, and having to deal with the accusations that you stole his banana milk.

“I didn’t steal anything,” you mumble, warming up the japchae Hobi had left for you on the stove. Jungkook gets up and opens the fridge door, dramatically showing you the empty spot where his banana milk was usually at.

“Well someone did, and Hobi says it wasn’t him and well I trust Hobi so,” Jungkook shrugs, looking at you with a deadpan look on his face. Sadly, Hobi probably asleep already, tired from what you assumed was a long day of work and the thing about Hobi was once he went to sleep there was no waking him up. That boy could sleep through the world ending, “I don’t exactly think it’s beneath you to steal my things…” he says, each one of his words dripping with venom.

You?! Stealing his things?! When he’s the one who's been taking your things left and right?? If he had caught you on any other day, you probably would’ve shrugged his accusations off, hell you might’ve even taken the blame and offer to buy him a new pack. But right now, you could feel your blood almost boiling. How dare he!

“I,” your voice rises, completely ready to go off on the boy, until you hear a door slam, Hobi coming out completely groggy and clearly annoyed.

“Will you two just,” his voice is heavy, sighing in frustration, “Y/N just go and eat in your room,” he says, feeling like a parent to two fighting siblings.

“But—” you’re about to fight your case, until Hobi interrupts.

“Y/N…” he looks at you in despair, his tone a clear indicator that he wasn’t mad, he wasn’t annoyed, he was just tired. You grab your food from the stove, having to pass by Jungkook as you leave the kitchen.

“Was little miss saccharine finally going to pop?” he scoffs, the two of you momentarily having a stare down, until quickly you compose yourself, the fake smile he knew all too well back on your face.

“Goodnight Jungkook,” you say, before making your way back into your room, peeved that Hobi scolded you and not Jungkook, that was until you heard the sound of muffled voices through your closed door.

If you wanted to get a better listen you were going to have to crack open the door without making a single sound, something that would be embarrassing if you managed to fail. Deciding that you were too nosy for your own good, you thankfully succeed in doing so, their voices sounding much clearer to your ears.

“You know she’s having a bad day, and yet—” you hear the sound of Hobi flapping his arms in despair, “and yet you still make her your target of the day,” he says.

“What are you talking about?” Jungkook asks, his voice telling you that he was ready to go on the defense.

“Jungkook let’s not act dense,” Hobi says, “What are we in preschool? You have some crush, and think being mean will get you your way with her?” Hobi accuses, which Jungkook immediately denies.

“She wishes,” he mumbles in return, “I treat her like I treat everyone,” he clarifies, almost sounding proud.

“No you treat her worse,” Hobi adds, “if you’re not giving her some backhanded compliment then you’re completely giving her the cold shoulder. I probably only get half of what she does, and even I’m getting fed up with it, so I could only imagine how she feels,” he sighs, “but Y/N is a very very nice person, and since that first day I met her in till even today, I have never seen her get mad at anyone, but you my friend are,” he pauses, trying to think of the best way to describe it, “well you’re pushing buttons that I’ve never seen pushed.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, “Yeah because her whole act of “I’m miss goody two shoes and can never even hurt a fly” act is such bullshit,” he drops his air quotes, “a grown ass woman acting like telling someone off will add some kind of dent to the image I’m sure has taken her a very long time to build.”

With every word he says, you could feel your stomach drop further and further down. The lump in your throat desperate to be let out. “She probably has you and the rest of the world fooled, but I can see right through it. It’s people like her who will lie to your face, and tell you everything you want to hear because they don’t want to be painted out as some bad guy. And let me tell you people like that are much worse than me because at least I have the balls to tell it like it is to someone’s face rather than protect my own ego, ” he finishes his rant, the veins on his neck faintly popping.

Hobi remains silent for a moment, taking in everything Jungkook said, then pushing his hair back with his hand, an indicator that he was stressed, “Look man, I’m letting you stay here so you can get back on your feet, and because you didn’t want go back to Busan,” he sighs, knowing he’s stepping on broken glass, “I don’t know what happened over there in the states, and I’m not gonna ask about it because I’m sure you’ll talk about it the day you’re ready to,” he pauses, “But what I do know is that you’re right, Y/N does fake her persona from time to time…” you feel your heart drop, while Jungkook’s face goes smug. That is until Hobi continued with what he was saying, “But the same way I’m not gonna ask you about why you came back to Korea a completely cold person, I’m not gonna question why she acts the way it does, especially because it's not hurting anyone.”

“Of course you wo—”

Hobi cuts him off before he can continue, “Let me finish,” he sternly says, his brows knitted, “But as long she keeps letting her feelings build up the way I’m assuming they are, and you keep acting the way you are now then—” he sighs, “There’s going to be a day where the water in the pot is going to boil over and well I don’t wanna be here when it happens,” his presses his lips together, shaking his head at the mere idea, “All I ask for Jungkook is that you try to be a little nicer to her, just for once. I think the two of you would actually be pleasantly surprised at how much in common you have,” Jungkook tries his best to bite his tongue, seeing just how tired his friend looked, “Maybe not even nice to her, just decent. Can you do me that favor?”

Jungkooks lets out a huff of air before silently nodding his head yes, Hobi giving him a small smile in return, “Thanks Jungkook, now I can actually go to sleep instead of hearing you two bicker,” he says before tapping on his shoulder and going back into his room. You, on the other hand, quickly wipe any droplets that fall from your eyes, closing the door before Hobi could notice the crack that was there.

Jungkook sits in the kitchen chair for a while, reflecting on the lecture Hobi just gave him. Hating that the feeling of guilt was beginning to seep in because unlike Hobi, before his little lecture, Jungkook knew that there had been a pair of ears listening in and he knew you could hear every word that came out of his mouth as your little attempt to crack open the door wasn’t as slick as you thought it was ….he just hadn’t cared.

“Just be decent,” Jungkook whispers to himself before turning off the kitchen lights and heading to bed. The two of you lying in your own beds at night, a lot on each other's mind.

“And to think Hobi ended up predicting everything that was going to happen,” Jungkook shakes his head, remembering his friend’s warning to him.

“That’s our Hobi,” you laugh, “always one step ahead, well when he wants to be of course,” you add, a small chuckle coming out of Jungkook’s mouth in response.

“You think he knew what he was doing the whole time?” Jungkook asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Like in terms of allowing everything to play out, you know? Because if he wanted to he could’ve kicked me out from the beginning…” you ponder on his question for a bit, thinking back to Hobi’s role in this whole tale.

“Mm I think he knew but was probably unsure the whole time, you know? Unsure if things would work out the way he set em up to be, I don’t know if he’ll ever tell us but…” you pause, “I think he knew what he was doing from the moment he told you that you could live with us, and I definitely think it was bullshit on his part when he said that he didn’t know what happened to you in the states,” you laugh because you could picture Hobi doing his own research on Google late at night, “So I guess he just knew that there were two people in his life in desperate need of a…” you look for the right word to describe it.

“Reality check?” Jungkook fills in for you, but you shake your head no.

“Mm,” you hum, “No, I dont think thats the way to put it, hmm, how about this…” you pause one last time before continuing, wanting to make sure you said everything correctly, “Hobi had two pieces to a puzzle that needed to connect together in order to complete said puzzle, but after lots of tosses and turns in their box well the two pieces just didn’t fit together anymore. In fact they refused to even try and fit with another, deciding that they were going to live with their new flaps and dents, and ignoring the fact that in order to complete the puzzle they needed to come together,” you let out a small laugh, “and so Hobi took a gamble, and decided to leave the pieces alone for the time being, in hopes that maybe, just maybe with a little bit more tosses and turns they’d realize that by coming together they’d be left with nothing but a beautiful image to show,” a warm smile appears on your face, “Yeah I think I like how that sounds, what do you think?” you turn to face Jungkook who was staring at you with his doe-eyed expression, completely speechless.

“Or was I too wordy?” you laugh, “I reached didn’t I?” you begin to ramble, “Ah I really need to—” suddenly you feel a cold finger pressed against your lips, Jungkook sounding a tiny “shh” soon after.

“I think it was perfect,” Jungkook softly whispers, what could only be described as a loving smile on his face. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, feeling your cold face get warmed up due to the heat that was rising from your cheeks. Reminding you of a memory from only months ago…

March 2019.

“Remind me why I’m going again?” you walk out of the hallway and into the living room, heels clicking against the wooden floor.

“Because you are tonight’s designated driver,” Hobi reminds you, “and well we all don’t fit in Seokjin’s mini cooper so there’s that,” he laughs. You sigh in return, looking at your reflection for the 100th time tonight. “Jungkook, you almost ready?” Hobi shouts from the living room, not keen on his friend’s habit of always getting ready at the last minute.

Tonight was one of, if not the only, rare occasions that both you and Jungkook would be at an outing together, and even then Hobi was always with you two, acting as the facilitator. Jungkook and you usually parted your separate ways the moment you’d arrive somewhere, especially at parties. And so today you didn’t really expect anything different.

It had been about a month since Hobi’s little lecture to Jungkook, and in a way it did have some kind of positive effect on Jungkook. These days he was now much more quiet and reserved, and honestly you preferred the cold shoulder over the constant attitude so you were definitely not complaining.

You were even surprised this morning when you found your bathroom products to be completely replaced by new bottles, including your serum! Of course they had been slightly used, meaning Jungkook wasn’t going to let go of his grip on them just yet, but at least it meant that he had the decency to realize that if he was going to be using them all the time, then it was only right that he occasionally paid for them.

Even last week when you heard him mumble a small, “that was good, thank you,” after making gyeran-mari’s for breakfast, you had to look at Hobi for confirmation that it really happened. Hell, he had even stopped constantly bringing women over, instead beginning to work out more often as you would now hear his grunts come from doing sit ups than from doing um… yeah. It looked like he even had a knack for boxing because you soon noticed how he’d come back home with hands wrapped in bandages or his gloves stringing along his duffel bag. Honestly, it was a little hot, but you’d rather die before admitting that to anyone.

“Ah I’m done, I’m done,” a voice comes out the hallway, Jungkook balancing on his right foot in a rush to put on his left shoe. Tonight he was dressed a little differently than his usual self, replacing his usual black attire and black combat boots for a more club friendly look of ripped blue jeans, black ankle boots, and a black fitted t-shirt. Of course not straying too far from his personal style. The new tattoo he had gotten recently was also in clear view tonight, his sleeve coming along quite nice in your opinion. He had recently even gotten his hair permed, allowing it to grow out longer than what you were used to seeing. It was crazy what a difference hair could make because it definitely made him look … better, in your eyes at least.

All this change on his part, honestly made you feel a little dull, but that’d be something to dwell on for another day. For now, you just wanted to get tonight over with. The faster you got there, the quicker you could leave, and the earlier you could be in bed.

“You took a whole ass hour for this?” Hobi eyes Jungkook up and down. Jungkook is quick to shoot him an offended look, while you on the other hand are struggling to suppress a laugh, “I’m not saying you look bad, in fact you look amazing, but this should not take you an hour!” Jungkook rolls his eyes, combing a hand through his hair.

“Are we going to get going or what?” he says, his cheeks tinged pink in embarrassment.

Once you all arrived, you were quick to meet up with the rest of your friends, everyone having pitched in for bottle service. Jungkook, who had become pretty cool with the rest of everyone, sat between Yoongi and Namjoon, all three of them laughing at God knows what. The bottle they had bought almost halfway done.

You on the other hand, were just watching everyone, the only person besides yourself who wasn’t drunk was Seokjin, and even then he was too busy with his new girlfriend to pay you any attention. Not that you really minded considering she really was a kind person and well who could blame Seokjin for being head over heels. They even shared the same humor, something that was quite rare to find.

You weren’t sure if it was because tonight the club seemed extra packed, or maybe the dress you were wearing was feeling a little too tight or maybe it was the stench of all alcohol getting to you but something definitely fell off. And you did not like it one bit.

“Hey I’m gonna go out back and get some fresh air outside,” you tell Hobi over the music, giving you a small nod in acknowledgement, the boy was clearly very drunk. The moment you stepped out, you definitely did feel better, the crispy fresh air outside almost making you feel as if you were breathing for the first time. That was until you heard the sound of someone arguing.

“I saw you dancing with her! Stop trying to gaslight me into thinking you weren’t!” a woman screams, very much in distress by who you assumed was her boyfriend, “God, I knew I should’ve listened to my mom, you are a pig! And I deserve a man who's going to—

“What did you just say?” he grabs her by the arm, his atrocious grip surely going to cause her a bruise later on.

“Let go of me!” she cries, as he then grabs her by the hair, ready to toss her to the floor and do whatever else he wanted to do with her. You feel your breathing become heavier, watching the scene unfold in front of you, unsure of what to do. You were scared and you didn’t know how to defend yourself, let alone someone else. But you also knew that God forbid you were ever in that situation, you wouldn't want someone turning a blind eye on you, so you did what was only right.

“Hey!” you scream while walking towards the couple, catching the man’s attention, “Let go of her before I—”

“Before you what?” he lets go of her hair, now walking towards you as well. The woman watches you with shaky eyes, having never guessed that her savior would be a woman in black string heels and a face that for the most part was not at all intimidating.

You reach into your purse, hoping to get a feel for either your taser or pocket knife, but of course, of fucking course, on all days of the year it was no where to be found. Nonetheless, you muster up your courage and respond, “Before I call security,” you say, trying your best to sound confident.

He laughs, dramatically looking around to show you that no one around was here to help, “Anyone ever teach you to mind your fucking business, like how a woman should,” you gulp, almost losing balance while taking a step back as he only gets closer, “Huh?! Anyone every fucking teach you that?” he closes in on you, your back soon hitting the wall that was behind you.

“Just leave her alone!” the woman screams in hysteria.

“You stay the fuck out of it! You’re the whole reason she’s in this mess,” he mutters, his words completely slurred and his breath reeking like alcohol. You almost feel like vomiting at the accidental whiff you take because wow was this man just disgusting.

“See maybe if you would’ve just gone about your day, you wouldn’t be here right now,” he makes a ticking sound with his mouth, mocking you, “but” he sighs, “I guess whores just have to stick with each other, huh?” he grabs you by the scalp of your hair, this time not hesitating to throw you to the ground.

“Oh my—” the woman screams, panic flowing through her veins.

“Go!” you yell at her, giving her the chance to escape even if it meant sacrificing your own wellbeing. She hesitates for a moment before running, the sound of her heels tapping against the pavement was one of the last things you could hear before the ringing in your ears became all too much.

You look at your hands for a moment, the stinging feeling almost unbearable as they had taken most of the impact of the fall, along with your knees. A part of you hoped he had left, that he had somehow magically disappeared or that you’d wake up to find that this was nothing more than a nightmare. But it wasn’t until you felt the grip of his hand on your hair again, that you’d come to realize the reality of your situation and that there was absolutely no one to help you.

The man lifts up his free hand, building power for the punch he was preparing to throw, as you could only throw your arms in front yourself in an attempt to minimize the impact of the punch. By now tears were falling from freely your eyes, small whimpers and sniffles coming out of fear. The final words you hear being spat from his mouth were, “you stupid bitch,” and in your head you count to three, waiting for the feeling of his fist against your face. But it never came.

Instead you feel the release of his hand on your scalp, and when you open your eyes you find him on the ground, not completely knocked out but he might as well be with just how out of it he looked. And though you weren’t drunk, you almost felt as if you were because absolutely everything around you was overlapping, hardly able to see anything in clear focus. But what you could make out was that there was a figure, and by the build you assume was a man, now sitting over the drunkard, throwing several punches at him. His goal was either to knock the man out or make sure he suffered every way possible before knocking him out.

You stand there for a moment in shock as you hear the person’s voice, a voice that was all too familiar, “I dare you to fucking lay a hand on her again, I fucking dare you!” Jungkook yells, throwing another punch at the man, “Who the fuck do you think you are?” slowly your vision becomes clearer as you wipe away the tears that had been blocking your vision, and soon you realize if Jungkook kept going at the rate he was, the man was going to be killed.

Quickly you run towards Jungkook, attempting to grab his right arm before he swings again, “Jungkook stop!” you yell, but instead he pushes your arm away, too caught up in his rage to think straight. The drunk man looked as if he was barely holding on, blood now all over his face. “I said stop!” you yell at the top of your lungs, the veins on your neck popping. Jungkook, panting, looks up at you, momentarily stopping. “Just stop,” you cry, wanting this nightmare to be over.

Jungkook looks at the barely conscious man one more time, pulling him by the collar of his shirt so that he’d get a good look of him, “If I ever see you again, I won’t hesitate to—”

“Jungkook,” you stop him from finishing his sentence.

He sighs, “Just be glad she’s here because scum like you deserve to fucking rot,” he says, letting go of the man’s collar and allowing his head to hit the pavement. He gets up from his position and begins to pat his black shirt of any dirt, catching his breath along the way. “You okay?” he asks, intensely staring at you.

But before you could respond, a voice screams, “Hey!” the two of you look up at said voice, only to find a security guard with a flashlight in his hand and his walky talky on the other.

Jungkook quickly grabs you by the hand, causing you to wince at the sudden touch, “Come on,” he says, pulling you to follow him.

He leads you back to the parking lot, confusion evidently on your face. It wasn’t until you turned back to find several security guards following after you that everything began to click together, panic now flowing through your veins. Hurriedly, you grab Hobi’s keys from your purse and unlock the door, your heart beating out of your chest.

Jungkook quickly hops in the passenger seat, his head throbbing from the amount of drinks he’s had, watching as you struggle to put the key in the ignition, clearly in a state of anxiousness. He yanks the keys from your hands and places them in himself, “Now drive!” he shouts, causing you to step ferociously on the gas pedal. Burning tire as you race off the parking lot.

“God my head is fucking killing me,” Jungkook complains, his blood stained hands resting on his temple. By now the two of you were heading back home, Jungkook having texted Hobi through your phone that he was going to have to get a ride from Seokjin. For the situation you two were just in had required an immediate escape.

You on the other hand were driving in complete silence, still in a state of shock of what just happened. Jungkook having to constantly remind you that you were driving, several instances of you zoning out at a stop light happening way too often for his liking.

“I am way too drunk for this shit,” he mutters under his breath, the reality of what just happened beginning to kick in. The queasy feeling in his stomach became more and more unbearable with every turn you took. And don’t even get him started on his throat, which was currently as dry as the Sahara Desert. “Is there some kind of water in this car?” he asks, beginning to look through the car console and glove compartment.

“I don’t,” you pause and sigh, “I don’t know.”

“Then pull over here,” he deadpans.

You furrow your brows in confusion, “What?”

“Pull over,” he repeats, his patience running out.

Not questioning him a second time, you do exactly that, pulling over at the side of some park near your apartment. Jungkook takes in a deep breath before opening the door and sticking his head out, seconds later the sound of him vomiting making you feel as queasy as he did.

“Oh God,” you mumble to yourself, just wanting to be in bed already. But of course that wasn’t going to happen because soon enough Jungkook was getting out of the car and going to God knows where. “Where are you going?” you shout, as he walks towards the park.

“I need water,” he says, “You coming or what?” you contemplate on whether to follow him or not, before ultimately exiting the car and locking it. With the way he was stumbling his footsteps, it was better safe than sorry to follow him.

“BogoShipda!” Jungkook sings loudly to the trees in the park, all of the alcohol he drank at the club still running through his system. You stare at him in surprise, having never seen him act like this before, as he continues to sing.

“Now where’s a water fountain when you need one,” he mumbles, the darkness of the night sky making it hard for him to scan his surrounding area. You found yourself feeling a little scared in fact. The silhouette of the trees and the sound of the wind softly pushing against the branches only making the atmosphere more scary.

“Ah there it is!” Jungkook slurs his words, sounding like a kid at a carnival. Once he’s in front of the fountain, he pushes against the button, the water sprouting out of the fountainhead. You stare at him in silence as he hadn’t crouched down to drink yet, thus confusing you.

It wasn’t until you felt a tug at your hand and the sting of the water hitting against your scrapes that you felt like punching him. “What are you doing?” you ask, trying your best not to sound too peeved.

He looks at you before rolling his eyes, “What do you think I’m doing? I’m cleaning your hands,” he signals for you to give him your other hand, and without thinking you comply.

“I could’ve done this at home,” you say.

“I know, but the longer we wait the higher chance it'll end up getting infected by dirt so,” he looks at you with a know it all expression, and you mumble a small “I guess,” under your breath, the stinging sensation soon enough replaced by a cool one, your hands no longer feeling as rusty.

It isn’t until he’s finished that he takes a sip of water, exhaling a small “ahh” sound after downing several gulps. “Come on,” he grabs your hand again, leading you to a park bench with a small lamppost right next to it, providing a smooth yellow dim light.

“Why are we—”

“I just want to sit for a moment without the movement of a car, just for a bit,” he exhales a heavy breath, manspreading on the bench and throwing his head back, “just for a bit,” he repeats, his voice soft.

The two of you sit there in silence, “Why are you staring at me?” he asks with his eyes closed, feeling your intense stare.

“I’m not—I’m not staring,” you stutter, he hums in response. Silence fills the air again, until Jungkook mumbles something that at first is inaudible.

“What?” you ask.

“I said I’m ˢᵒʳʳʸ,” you look at him confused, were you hearing him correctly?

“Wait what?” you ask again, it wasn’t your intention to come off as pushy nor pretentious but you were just seriously surprised as to what you were hearing.

He grumbles before repeating himself, “I said,” he drops his shoulders, “I said I’m sorry.” He opens his eyes to look at you, his usual smug behavior nowhere to be found on his face, he was being completely serious.

“Oh…” you pause for a moment before continuing, “Can I ask for what? I’m not trying to be mean or anything or act dense. I seriously just don’t know why,” you make sure you add those claims at the end, feeling as if you were walking on eggshells.

He looks at you momentarily before placing his view on the trees in front of you, “For not getting there earlier,” he mutters, as if disappointed with himself, “I went out because Hobi had told me to go check up on you, but,” he stays silent for a moment before continuing, clenching his jaw, “at first I sorta shrugged him off when he asked me, it wasn’t until he asked me second time that I actually went outside,” his voice shakes a bit and you notice that his eyes become slightly glossy, “and then a woman came running up to me rambling about someone about to get beaten up, but the last person I thought she was talking about was you,” he exhales loudly before continuing, trying his best to maintain his composure, “but either way I ran towards wherever she was pointing at, and that’s when I saw you on the floor,” his voice cracks, “and I just keep replaying everything in my head, and I just—” he closes his eyes and shakes his head, “I’m just sorry and I felt like you deserved to know that,” he concludes, a tear falling from his face.

And maybe it was because he was drunk, or maybe he just really did feel bad, but to see Jungkook this vulnerable was different to say the least. It was almost humanizing in some aspects.

Jungkook expected you to scream at him, to tell him that it was his fault you were put in that situation. That he could’ve prevented it from happening, that because of him you almost got beat to a bloody pulp.

No, in fact he doesn't expect you to, he wants you to. It’s what he deserves to hear from you. Had it not been for him and his ego, he would’ve gone out there the moment Hobi had asked him to, and you would’ve never had to deal with that drunk excuse of a human being to begin with. Or was the alcohol in his system just seriously getting to him because God did he feel sick.

“Jungkook it’s not your fault,” you begin, but Jungkook who's still looking at the trees, refuses to make eye contact. “Hey look at me,” you demand, tugging his hand in an effort to get him to look at you. When he does so, you continue, “That man was going to attack me whether you came or not because a weak man like that will attack the easiest target,” you state, a small chuckle escaping your lips, “It was no one’s fault but his, you hear me?” you squeeze his hand, “Not yours, not mine, not Hobi’s, not the lady, no one. Absolutely no one.”

More tears begin to fall from his bloodshot eyes, “You don’t get it y/n,” he shakes his head, “You don’t what that man could’ve done to you in that time I wasn’t there, you could’ve been killed for God’s sake,” he attempts to say it firmly, but his voice betrays him by whimpering in the end.

“But he didn’t!” you say, and without thinking you place his hand on your cheek, “I’m right here look! All because of you! Yeah you didn’t get there as early as you wished you could’ve, but you got there nonetheless! And if you hadn’t I probably would be sporting a big old black eye on my face and have one cheek bigger than the other right now. I’d look like one of those chipmunks from Alvin and the Chipmunks!” you laugh at your own joke, and for the first time ever, Jungkook laughs with you. His last first starting off as a small chuckle but the harder you laughed, the harder he did. The beginning to what would be you always hearing his high pitched laugh around the apartment, but let’s not get too far ahead right now.

They say when a human is drunk, they muster up the courage to do something they’d never do sober, but have always thought of doing in the back of their mind. It was often why people would blame a bold text to an ex on being “drunk” despite not taking one sip of their tequila shot, or why some people would excuse cheating on being “drunk” despite knowing it was something they wanted to do for a very long time. They were looking for an excuse to finally do it. And so now sitting here, with his hand caressed across your face, goofy grins plastered on your faces, he felt tempted to just kiss you.

It was weird really, yeah he thought you were cute, in fact there were days he’d found you hot, but anything past physical attraction had never really crossed his mind. To him, you’d always been and currently were his roommate who he found both superficial and performative.

The one who once attempted to hide her strawberry scented shampoo in her room during work, in hopes that he wouldn’t go out of his way to find it. The one who liked her jjolmyeon more on the sour side than the sweet. The one who occasionally made him coffee and breakfast in the mornings, despite him being asleep after a long night of work of barristering. The one who for some odd reason almost never watched Netflix on the TV, but instead would watch it on her laptop on the couch, thus rendering the TV completely useless.

And so to be here, finally appreciating the person that you were after what could’ve been a near-death experience was a bit of a wake up call. And yeah like you said, maybe he didn’t get here as early as he should’ve been, but he got here nonetheless. He smiles to himself, your words having a double meaning behind them.

But for now he wanted to preserve this feeling, because he knew he was drunk. He was so drunk that the tree behind you was beginning to look like it was moving towards him. And so rather than kiss you, he instead decides to simply tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, deciding that if he felt like this tomorrow morning when he was sober then it’d be something worth looking into.

“I’m telling you, if I ever see that man again—”

“It was like,” you count on your fingers, “9 months ago Jungkook, I doubt you even remember his face,” you cut off, patting his shoulder.

“Mm,” he hums, “you’d be surprised how good I am at remembering faces, so when I tell you I’m still waiting for the day I come across him again, I mean it!” you roll your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you sing, “Hey at least something good came out of it,” you smile.

Jungkook looks at you with uncertainty, “Which is?”

Your small smile then becomes a toothy grin, “We became friends!” you exclaim excitedly, “temporarily at least,” you laugh.

April 2019.

It had been about two weeks since the incident at the club. Jungkook having completely avoided you since, and no you weren’t paranoid because originally you thought you were. It first started off with you not seeing him at all around the apartment, which you excused with you two having different work schedules like always. But then you’d notice he wouldn’t even drink the coffee you would make for him in the morning, it being left there on the counter for the entire day.

And in the very rare moments you did manage to get a glimpse of him in the hallway either entering or exiting his room, the boy would completely avoid eye contact with you! But the final confirmation that told you he was avoiding you? He had bought his own shampoo and body wash for himself! Not just any kind, he bought an extra lather version of your own with exfoliating properties. And you didn’t if you could use it or not because, well because he was avoiding you!

It wasn’t like you two kissed or anything! The most that happened was that you two shared a laugh! So then why was he avoiding you like the freaking plague? After a week of thinking about every possible reason he could be, you had given up. You’d accepted that you were back at square one with him, but it wasn’t like you were ever at square two to begin with. And so that’s why yesterday when Hobi told you he’d be going on a morning/afternoon hike trip on Saturday with Namjoon, you were skeptical on how Jungkook would manage to avoid you.

It was also why this morning in bed, when you heard what sounded like furniture being moved at 7 in the freaking morning, you were unsure about getting up and saying something or remaining in bed. Luckily you didn’t have to think about it for too long because you soon heard the sound footsteps coming closer to your bedroom door. As a result, you quickly threw yourself under the covers and pretended to be asleep.

It definitely had to be Jungkook who had just entered your room, the heavy footsteps acting as a signal to you that it was. Your eyes widen when you hear the sound of your drawer being pulled open, “What the hell did he think he was doing? Should you turn around and scare him? Hmm. No,” you think to yourself because soon enough you felt a hand gently shake your body.

“Y/N,” he whispers, clearly in belief that you were asleep. You let him shake you around a little more, just to make your little “I’m just waking up” act a little more believable, “Y/N,” he repeats, and this time you begin to make groggy sounds. Actress of the Year Award : Check.

“Mm,” you hum, but you’re quickly jolted awake when you feel your covers get pulled off of you, “What are you—” you look up at Jungkook, who was dressed in complete workout gear. But what really had you concerned, was the workout clothing he had folded in his hands because well they were yours.

He tosses the matching pair of black leggings and sports bra, “Go change,” he sternly says, only causing you to look at him in further confusion.

“B-b-but-” Jungkook knows you’re about to not only complain, but ask many many questions. Because that’s just the type of person you are.

“Hobi told me you like buttermilk pancakes with extra syrup, but that since yours always come out burnt and his come out too dull, that the only time you get to eat them is if you go to a breakfast restaurant,” you narrow your eyes at him, confused as to where this was leading to, “Well at the coffee shop I work at, we have a weekly Pancake Tuesday and well let’s just say a certain someone has been rated top pancake maker for 2 months now,” you quirk your brow in interest, continuing to listen, a smirk now on his face, “and let’s also say this certain someone has a stack of warm pancakes sitting there on the kitchen island, untouched and certainly uneaten.”

You quickly smile at what he was insinuating, “BUT you can only eat them if you get up, get ready and change in 5 minutes,” he looks at the clock, “starting now.” And in the blink of an eye you were up and running towards your restroom because certainly if that didn’t get you up and out of bed, he wasn’t sure what would.

Quickly you brush your teeth and fix up your hair a bit, curious to know what Jungkook had planned out. To think you thought he was avoiding you! Well he was … but that doesn’t matter anymore! Placing your shoes on you begin to make your way towards the living room, the thought of eating those buttermilk pancakes almost making your mouth drool. That was until you stepped into the living room, stopping dead in your tracks.

Your eyes glaze over everything, blinking veryyy slowly, in order to make sure you were seeing things correctly. Jungkook had transformed your living room into some kind of um … workout center? For boxing? He had everything from the red punching bag, the reflex bag, the speed ball, jump rope, mini dumbbells, and most importantly boxing mitts for some one-on-one training. Everything was an adequate enough size to fit in all into the living room, but not too big in a way that it couldn’t be stored in the extra closet you had in the hallway.

“Why did you—” Jungkook hands you a pair of shiny black boxing gloves, along with bandages.

“I’m going to teach you the basics of boxing,” he presses his lips together, “whether you like it or not,” he says.

“Jungkook I don’t thin—”

“You don’t think what?” he looks at you in a way that tells you he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“I’m not really cut out for this kind of stuff,” you try to make an excuse for yourself anyway, but he wasn’t buying it.

“Because you have no experience, which is exactly why I’m going to teach you,” his brows draw together, a stern look on his face as he now makes eye contact with you, “You can’t just always expect someone to pop out of thin air and come to your rescue y/n, what happened two weeks ago was a mix of both good timing and sheer luck,” he sighs while pulling out a taser and pocket knife from his pocket, “and though this is helpful in many situations, you seem to forget to take these with you,” he scolds, “guess where they were the night at the club?” You stay silent, “the kitchen island,” he answers for you.

“Okay I get it, I get it,” you say, “I need to learn how to protect myself without using those,” you point to the items in his hand.

“Exactly, I’m glad we’re on the same page,” he playfully pats your head, “so we’ll be doing this every weekend for the next eight weeks, from 7AM till 2PM. We might even throw an occasional weekday night in there if I don’t get out of work too late.”

“7AM?!” you shriek, “Oh no no no, you sir are crazy,” you protest, shaking your head in denial, “No amount of pancakes will have me waking up that early every weekend.”

“Oh come on! The more hours you do, the better you’ll get!” he bargains with you, catching you off guard by throwing his arm around your shoulder, your cheeks going red as a result.

“Jungkook,” you dramatically cry out, ready to stomp your feet on the floor like a little kid, the only thing preventing you was you not wanting the downstairs neighbors to come up and complain.

He tightens his grip on you, “Come onnnnn,” he sings, “I’ll let you use my new body wash with the exfoliating properties,” he teases you, having heard you complain to Hobi one morning about being unsure of whether or not you could use it. You truly were too kind for your own good, cause if the situations were reversed, Jungkook would’ve just gone ahead and used it.

You narrow your eyes at him once again, “More like you’re buying me one of my own!” you demand and he nods in agreement, “Also, where did you even manage to get all this?” you ask, genuinely curious as to how he managed to buy all this.

“Um let’s just say I have a buddy at the boxing gym who didn’t really need these anymore,” you stare at him suspiciously, but decide to shrug it off. You’d ask him more questions some other day, but for now all you wanted was to eat those pancakes!

Hobi opens the door to his shared apartment, exhausted from the hike he just had this morning and honestly ready to just hop into bed and sleep. That was until he saw the transformation of his living room in front of his very own eyes, his skin paling and mouth gaping in shock.

“What the—” he whispers, preparing to scream out your names like a parent walking in their house only to find it destroyed by their teenagers, but before he could the sound of something stops him dead in his tracks. It was the sound of soft snores.

Walking towards the sound, which seemed to be coming from the long couch, a smile immediately appears on his face when he comes to see the view in front of him. You were on one side of the couch while Jungkook was on the other, both of your feet stretched out and touching in the middle, napping away. Hobi personally thought he was dreaming, this being a view he never thought he’d see.

Wanting to preserve the memory, he grabs his phone from his pocket and opens up the camera app, snapping the photo in silence, tempted to edit and post the photo with little clouds above each other's heads and make up some witty caption. But he’d save it for some other day. For now, he was just happy you two were finally getting along.

“Ah I had forgotten how that photo came to be,” Jungkook laughs, looking at the photo on your Iphone screen, “you were tired from working out, while I was tired from having to watch you continuously mess around with the equipment,” he pokes fun at you. Not like it wasn’t true, that day you kept going back to the speed ball, aimlessly hitting it in hopes that at some point you’d magically become fast at hitting it like in the movies.

“Hey, I’m pretty decent at doing everything now,” you flash him a cheesy smile. After several weeks of consistent training and long hours, you were definitely at a point where you could adequately defend yourself from someone ranging from a small petite woman to around a medium sized man. Luckily, you haven't come across a situation that has required you to to do so nor do you ever hope to, but it was comforting to know that if something ever did happen, then you were ready. But, your taser and pocket knife would always be your first go to, no matter what.

“You’re…” Jungkook pauses, “okay,” he breathes, huffing a quiet laugh. Out of impulse you flash him the finger, showing off your freshly manicured fingers. “Aren’t you rude,” he says with a dramatic gasp.

You roll your eyes, “You’re the one who taught me,” you laugh, and Jungkook places his hand on his chest, looking at you with a dramatic offended look on his face.

“Me?” he feigns his surprise.

“Yes you! How could I forget,” you look at him accusingly.

“No I taught you how to stop faking a smile, and to start putting a foot down people’s neck,” he shrugs, “not to go sticking out the middle finger,” he jokes, and you only roll your eyes again, grumbling a small “Mm.”

May 2019.

To your surprise, you had been managing to consistently wake up and work out every weekend with Jungkook, with him even being able to up your usual workout plan at a drastic rate. You’d shed a couple of pounds and to your surprise could even see some muscle beginning to form, but today, well today was your monthly lazy day.

Lazy day was the one day of the month where you and Hobi would push everything off your schedule, from calling off of work, to making sure everything in the apartment was clean, and buying snacks the night before in order to make sure you wouldn’t have to step out of the apartment. It was usually picked the month before by either you or Hobi closing your eyes and randomly pointing somewhere on the calendar, and whatever day your index finger managed to land on would be the day. And well today was that day.

But when Hobi told you yesterday night that a family emergency was going to have to bring lazy day to a temporary halt because he had to drive back to Busan, which in itself was a three hour trip from Seoul, you had already called the day off weeks prior as your job wasn’t as lenient on last minute call offs. The contract you signed stating in small print, “any day off must be requested, sent in, and approved 2 weeks prior to the date said employee is asking for.”

And so this morning when Jungkook entered your room to find you completely knocked out with drool coming out of your mouth, he was surprised to say the least. On weekday mornings, he would almost always wake up to find himself alone in the apartment considering both you and Hobi have day jobs, so hearing snores come out of your room had definitely caught him off guard.

He debated on whether he should be annoying and wake you up and then force you to work out or be a nice roommate and make you breakfast. Let’s just say he didn’t choose the latter. Grabbing one of the stuffed animals that you weren’t hugging, he throws it at your head, a grunt coming out of your mouth after.

“Jungkook,” you mutter, morning voice in full effect, “let me sleep please,” you say, switching to the other side, in hopes that he’d leave.

“No, you need to work out,” he says, beginning to nag.

Turning around again, this time to face him, you look at him with your eyes half-way open, “Today’s lazy day,” you deadpan, his eyes narrow in confusion.

“What the hell is, quote on quote, lazy day?” he asks, lifting a brow. Rubbing your eyes along with eye boogers in the corners, you begin to stretch your arms and legs, not caring if he was staring.

Sighing once you were ready to respond, you then answer, “Lazy day is the one day of the month that me and Hobi take a day off of work to well … be lazy,” he stares at you with an innocent look on his face, “butttttt,” a mischievous smile appears on your face, “since Hobi cancelled on me, now you’re going to be lazy partner for the day.” His face twists in bewilderment.

“Huh?”

“You heard me, go call the café, and tell em you’re taking the day off,” you smile, now getting up from bed.

“And why would I do that?” Jungkook asks, the question coming off a little harsher than intended, but you were quick to shrug it off, already accustomed to the occasional attitude.

“Becauseeeeee,” you sing, “When was the last time you’ve taken a day off, I mean look at you right now! You’re already dressed comfortably,” you eye him up and down, he was currently in work out clothing which for him consisted of an oversized grey sweater and joggers, “do you really wanna get all sweaty and then have to shower, change, and go to work… cause I don’t think you do,” you raise your eyebrows up and down in a teasing manner as he avoids eye contact with you.

His eyes look around your room, clearly thinking to himself. A lazy day huh? Hmm you did make a point, he really couldn’t remember the last time he’s just lounged around and done nothing, as he was always doing something whether it be working out, working, going out, etc.

He looks back at you once he’s made his decision, letting out a huff of air, “Fine,” he says, grabbing his phone from his pocket, preparing to dial the coffee shop, a tiny squeal coming from you.

“I thought lazy day meant no going out,” Jungkook complains while pushing the grocery cart around, following you and your need to go up and down each and every aisle at the store.

“It does, but since Hobi and I couldn’t go grocery shopping the night before,” you grab some strawberry lemonade from the freezer and place it in the cart, “someone has to help carry the groceries up the stairs,” you catch him rolling his eyes, “your eyes will get stuck up there if you keep doing that,” you comment, grabbing packaged ramen from the counter beside you.

“Yeah, Yeah—” Jungkook stares at what’s in your hands wide eyed, “No, no, no! What are you doing?” You jump in surprise, dropping the package on the floor.

“Wh-what?” your face flushes in surprise, his outburst completely catching you off guard.

“Shin Ramyun?! What happened to getting Paldo Bibimmyeon?! Do you have no loyalty?” he scrunches his face up, in clear distress at what he just caught you doing. At first you don’t think he’s serious, this being some stupid joke he was making, but once you got a glimpse of the stare he was giving you, you’d soon come to realize that he was not playing around at all.

“It’s be-be-because,” you begin to stutter under his scrutiny, “these are buy three, get two free,” you lopsidedly smile, an awkward laugh feigning from your lips. He shakes his head, snatching the ramen from your hands and placing it on its original spot before then grabbing his Paldo Bibimmyeon.

“Choosing price over quality, are you crazy?” he mutters under his breath before pushing the cart past you and making his way to the checkout line, leaving you there momentarily flabbergasted.

Once you caught up to him you were ready to tell him something until you heard the sound of someone calling your name, “Y/N?” you turn around, surprised to see Jimin in the line next to you.

“Oh Jimin!” you smile, softly waving at the newly blonde-haired boy, his roots telling you that the hair job was recent. Jimin offers his hand out to Jungkook. Jungkook, at first hesitant, shakes it in return, “You remember Jimin, right? He was with us on New Years, he was supposed to come partying with us last time, but he flaked last minute,” Jungkook slowly nods remembering the boy wrapping his arm around you during the countdown while Jimin on the other hand raises his hands to his defense.

“Even a person like me can get burnt out every here and then,” he laughs, “but next time I’ll be sure to be on the dance floor,” he winks at you, his natural flirty personality making its appearance. Jungkook awkwardly coughs, pushing the cart forward to get your attention back in the moving line.

You feel your hands get a bit clammy, Jimin always being someone you did have a bit of a crush on, never pursuing anything because of your long-term friendship with him. But of course that didn’t mean he didn’t get an occasional blush out of you here and there. “So how have you been since the last time I saw you? It’s been quite a while—”

And just as you’re about to answer, Jungkook interrupts, “Y/N,” he says, nudging you to tell you that it was time to pay.

“Ah I guess I’ll just see you around then,” Jimin chuckles, waving a small goodbye.

“O-oh yeah I guess I—”

“Y/N,” Jungkook repeats, unbeknownst to you, the green eyed monster was beginning to make its appearance. Any longer and horns would probably start sprouting out his ears.

Once you two finish paying and bagging everything, you walk towards Jungkook’s new black Hyundai which he had bought only a couple of weeks ago after months of what he calls “busting his ass” off and using most of his savings up for. You hum a tiny tune while helping him place all the bags in the trunk.

“So…” Jungkook awkwardly begins, second guessing whether he should continue asking the question he had in his mind before deciding to just do it anyway, “Is that like your boyfriend or something?”

Immediately you stop humming, staring at Jungkook wide-eyed, “Oh no, no!” you quickly deny, “No, No, no,” you repeat, shaking your head. The redness of your cheeks tell another story.

“Hm,” Jungkook mumbles, “sorta looked like it,” he deadpans before going to put the cart in its designated spot, leaving you there confused as to what that meant.

After a couple of hours of lounging around in the apartment and binging Narcos: Mexico on the TV rather than your laptop because of Jungkook’s complaints, the two of you were now eating your ramen on the kitchen island, quietly seated on the tall chairs. The sound of Jungkook slurping his noodles filling the room.

“What did you mean by Jimin being my boyfriend or something?” you suddenly ask out of nowhere, the question having been on your mind for a majority of the day.

Jungkook takes a final gulp of his food before responding, “I don’t know,” he nonchalantly shrugs, “you were gawking at him like a schoolgirl seeing her crush in the hallway,” he says, “thought you two had something going on, or at least on your part,” he reiterates.

“I did not stare at him like some schoolgirl!” you deny, taking offense to his analogy, “He’s j-jus—”

“J-just someone you clearly have a crush on,” he mocks your flusteredness, “I see and here a part of me thought it thought it was two-sided,” he smirks.

“It’s not sided on either way,” you protest, “Jimin is just a friend,” you clarify, putting your foot down.

“How do you even know the dude?” he asks. He knew you and Hobi met during college, and that Hobi was in some club with Yoongi and Namjoon which explains how you met them. He also knew that Seokjin and Taehyung came into the picture after some college frat party, but Jimin, well he didn’t know too much about Jimin. Just that he clearly felt comfortable enough to have his arm around you during New Years.

“I met him during my first year of performing at Busan Arts College, that was before I transferred to Seoul National where I’d then meet Hobi,” Jungkook’s ears perk up, several questions now running through his head.

“An arts college? In Busan?”

“Yeah, like a school for dance majors, drawing, theatre, music, film, modelling, sports, interior design, animation, and et cetera,” you smile softly while explaining, “I was an art major, painting to be specific, and along the scopes of watercolors and abstractness.”

Jungkook hums, his curiosity still not completely fulfilled, “So why’d you transfer?” he asks the big question.

“Oh..” you know you shouldn’t be, but for some reason you are slightly taken back by his blunt question, “because..” you sigh, “um something happened that well um I just thought it’d be best to transfer, and well my math skills weren’t too rusty for the entrance exam and my credits were exceptional for transferring and so I just took the leap and left. Met Hobi, we became roommates, decided to stay roommates even after graduating and well now I’m an accountant.”

Jungkook stays silent for a moment, surprised that there was more to you than meets the eye. He would’ve never guessed that you were into painting, “I stayed in touch with Jimin, introduced him to my new group of friends and well yeah, that’s that,” you finish explaining, “He was a dance major, just in case you were curious,” you add, “He now works at a contemporary dance company here in Seoul, very deep with connections in the arts industry,” So that’s who Jimin was huh? Cool... but now Jungkook was much more curious about you.

“Do you ever paint?” he asks another question, completely finished with his meal and at this point only staying for the conversation. It was weird, had it been anyone else asking you these questions you wouldn't have dared entertain it any further, probably finding some way to maneuver out of it. But for Jungkook to ask whether it be from a place of nosiness or simple curiosity, hell maybe even boredom, for some reason you just didn’t mind.

“Um not really, not anymore at least, especially these days that work is beginning to pile up but,” you hesitate for a moment before continuing, “I still have some of my old work somewhere under my bed, probably in a storage box knowing me.”

“Can I see them?”

And just as you’re about to answer, your phone’s ringing sound goes off. The person calling? Jimin. You hesitate to answer, glancing at Jungkook who was staring at your phone, presumably reading the name. Once he does, he looks at you in a way that was asking, “Are you going to pick up?”

You click the green button to accept, “Hello?”

“Y/N?” Jimin asks, unsure if it was you.

“Yes?”

“Hey! Um so I was actually meaning to call for quite a while,” Jungkook tries his best not to make it obvious that he’s listening in, “and so when I ran into you and your friend at the market it served as a complete reminder.”

“Oh what for?” you ask politely.

“Well I was hoping we could catch up over some dinner, and then I could tell you something very important that I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time,” From Jimin? “I was thinking this Saturday like at 7? I’ll pick you up.”

“Oh um..” for some reason you look at Jungkook for advice, but he just stares at you with his eyebrows furrowed, “Yeah sure, why not?” you awkwardly laugh.

“Perfect, I’ll see you then! Byeeeee,” he sings before clicking, leaving you on the line. Did that call really just happen? Or were just imagining things?

“I think—” you gulp, “I think I have a date this Saturday?” you say unsurely, a small dumbfounded smile beginning to appear on your face.

He notices the goofy smile beginning to appear on your face, before letting out a large exasperated breath and feigning his best smile. The forced smile comes out quite awkward, “With Park Jimin?” Park Jimin your college friend. Park Jimin, the successful contemporary dancer. Park Jimin, the one who looked like he came straight out of a magazine cover. That Park Jimin? Jungkook on the other hand could feel his eyebrow impulsively twitch in response, the green eyed monster creeping from behind, ready to make its return.

You nod your head yes, Jungkook now getting up from the chair, a negative energy now around him. “So much for it being a zero sided thing,” he mutters before practically throwing his dish into the sink and stomping out the kitchen, leaving you completely by yourself.

“Weird,” you think to yourself before heading off to bed.

Saturday had surprisingly arrived in the blink of an eye despite the extra hours of working out Jungkook had thrown in the morning. It was almost as if the boy wanted you to be on your date exhausted and halfway knocked out. Out of nowhere, deciding that today was the best day to start working on more leg targeted exercises, as a result your legs now felt like jell-o with every step you took.

“I’m gonna get going you guys,” you announce to the boys in the living room, who were currently on the couch watching an episode of One Piece.

Hobi turns his attention from the screen to look at you, immediately smiling at your outfit, “Ahh look at you,” he compliments, Jungkook on the other hand or silently watches you as you grab your keys from the countertop. “Doesn’t she look pretty Jungkook?” Hobi asks, tapping Jungkook on the shoulder. Jungkook remains silent, which oddly enough resulted in a heavy feeling in your chest. “Now she’s sad!” Hobi scolds, “Tell her she looks pretty,” Hobi pushes Jungkook’s shoulder this time.

“You look…” Jungkook pauses, and for a moment both you and Hobi hold your breath, for Jungkook’s mouth was quite unpredictable sometimes, “You look more than pretty,” he says with a warm look on his face before catching himself and going back to his usual expressionless face and turning his attention back to the screen. Hobi who looks like he’s about to tease the hell out Jungkook once you leave, struggles to hide the big grin on his face. While you, well you could’ve sworn you felt your heart skip a beat.

“Well get going now! And don’t come back too late!” Hobi teases, loving the persona of acting like a parent a little too much.

Was thinking about your roommate regular for a date? Because that’s what you found yourself doing … a lot. From the moment you had stepped into Jimin’s car your immediate comparison was to Jungkook’s own car. Once he started driving, your mind went to how unlike Jimin who drove with both hands on the steering wheel, Jungkook liked driving with one. More specifically his left.

And of course being on a date you expect conversation to be flowing all around even when you’re waiting on the food, but for some reason you had become so used to Jungkook always being silent until he was nearly finished with his food, that when Jimin began to make conversation while waiting definitely felt … odd for you to say the least. And don’t even get you started on what he ended up ordering. Well done steak?! Jungkook hated well done steak, preferring medium rare over anything. And so to say your roommate had been constantly on your mind this whole time was a bit of an understatement.

Currently the two of you were walking on the bridge of a local park, the several number of lampposts and people all around you making it less scary than compared to that night at the park with Jungkook. “So Y/N how’s your year been so far?” Jimin asks, a pleasant smile on his face.

“It’s been,” you pause, thinking about the person who came into your life only months ago, “it’s been pretty good.”

“That’s good to hear, that’s good to hear,” he repeats, the two of you now sitting on a bench, “So I know I told you I had some important news,” he begins, “and it’s something I’ve been really wanting to talk to you about for a very long time,” he insinuates, “and so if you could close your eyes for a moment that’d be great,” you do as follows, and close your eyes, Your heart begins to race but it wasn’t the same kind of racing you felt that night at the park with Jungkook. It was more of a “what am I doing here?” kind of nervousness so to speak. Nonetheless you shrug the feeling off.

Jimin, who was originally supposed to be getting an exhibition flyer out of his coat, notices that you have what looks to be a leaf in your hair. Deciding that it was bothering him too much he goes and reaches for it, surprised to be in contact with your lips seconds later. Quickly he pulls away, staring at you wide eyed. Both of your faces now tomato red, as he struggles to form words.

Eyes still widened, he pulls out the folded paper from jacket, once unfolded it reads, “Seoul City’s Annual Public Art Exhibition with a special performance by Seoul’s Contemporary Dance Academy choreographed by Park Jimin.”

“Oh my God—” you manage to breath out, coming to the realization that kissing you was not his attention.

He scratches the back of his neck, “I um, yeah, I’m this year’s choreographer for the city's art exhibition and well I managed to get you a slot so that you could have your very first art piece exhibited,” Jimin feigns an awkward smile, “You know since you’re a painter first before an accountant.” You, still hung up on what was probably the most embarrassing moment of your life, stare at him in complete silence. Everything barely registering in your head.

“Y/N…” he begins the dreadful pity speech by grabbing your hand, “I um,” he lets out an awkward chuckle before continuing, “I like you, I do, but not in that way…”

In the movies, this is where you’re supposed to feel as if your world was crashing down on you, the part where your heart is supposed to sink in complete sadness and you go home a complete crying mess. But rather than feel any of those things, you instead feel …. relief? Yeah, you kissing the boy was embarrassing, but it wasn’t something that was gonna haunt you for the rest of your life. Maybe for a week or two, but not definitely not the rest of your life.

Jimin wonders what’s going through your mind, the apparent smile that suddenly grew on your face telling him that things were going to be just fine, “I sorta um had my eyes on someone else in our friend group…” and with that he gets your attention because you knew exactly who he was talking about.

“Taehyung,” you say, and Jimin silently nods, a laugh emitting from both of your lips.

“Honestly, I’m a little surprised that you even agreed to go out with me, that Jungkook dude seemed like was going to lunge at me any second over there at the supermarket,” Jimin says, “I thought you two were a thing at first.”

You laugh in disbelief, “Me and Jungkook?” you say, scrunching your face.

“Um yeah, it’s not really something shocking,” Jimin laughs, “I mean you two definitely looked like a couple that day, very much doing um couple-like things. Maybe not affectionate wise but I don’t know there were definitely looks and glances being exchanged. But if you say there’s nothing between you two then who am I to argue?” Jimin shrugs his shoulders, a smirk on his face.

“Exactly, who are you to argue,” you dramatically snarl, Jimin throwing his head back in laughter.

“So y/n what do you say about participating in the art exhibition? You know you want toooo,” Jimin sings, pouting his lips. You had forgotten about that for a moment, the embarrassment of the kiss completely fazing you out.

“Oh I don’t know,” you nervously say, you hadn’t seriously painted in such a long time, that chapter in your life being a closed book for quite some time now.

“But y/n—” Jimin begs, “This could be the moment you’ve been waiting for, there’s going to be a lot of professional artists there along with buyers.”

“I just—” something was holding you back from saying yes. Was it fear? Maybe. All you knew was that you couldn't dive into something that you had long given up on, “I don’t think I can,” you ultimately say.

Jimin frowns, “You sure? I can’t hold the slot for too long, and well I was so sure you’d say yes..” You sigh before nodding, confirming that you were saying no.

“Ah okay,” Jimin says, completely understanding, “Come on let’s get you home,” to which you nod, a small sad smile on your face.

By the time you got back home, you wondered if the boys’ were asleep already, hoping at least one of them was awake to talk to, more specifically Hobi, for he always knew what to say when you needed comfort. And so when you opened the door to find the TV still on, but no one in the living room, you were confused to say the least.

You walk towards Hobi’s room, crack open the door, and peep your head in only to find him sound asleep. Did that mean Jungkook was up? Maybe someone just forgot to turn off the TV… with your curiosity getting the best of you, you decide to go Jungkook’s room and check if he was there. With your hand on the knob, you begin to twist it, slowly opening the door until a voice scares you from behind, “What are you doing?” he harshly whispers causing you to yelp in surprise.

“Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God,” you whisper as well, closing his door immediately, “I-I-I thought you were,” you point at his door, unable to complete your sentence.

“I was peeing,” he says, “Did you not see the light on?”

Shaking your head no, you ask, “What are you even doing up this late?”

Jungkook awkwardly stammers, “I um, I just couldn’t sleep,” he says instead of admitting that secretly he was waiting for you to arrive, just to make sure you were safe. Nothing else of course, not like he wanted to know how your date went… “Why are you going into my room without my permission?” he questions.

You scoff, “You always go in mine!” you try your best to keep your voice down, not wanting to wake up a grumpy Hobi, “Why can’t I go in yours?”

“Because you’ve never told me anything against me going into yours,” he argues, “Just because we’re um,” he pauses, struggling to say the word that comes next, “friends… doesn’t mean you get to go snooping around.” What the hell was he hiding in there that you couldn’t go in?

“That’s not fair and you know it,” you complain, ready to cross your arms and complain like a kid, that is until he flicks your forehead with his index finger.

“Ow,” you cry, “What was that for?” you groan, and he shrugs in response.

“I don’t know I just felt like doing it,” he smirks, “your forehead just looks so … flickable.” You narrow your eyes, quickly flicking his in return, garnering an “ow” from him as well.

“Oh you’re gonna pay for that,” he says, and quickly but also softly because you didn’t want to stomp too hard on the floor, you run back to the living room, the two of you now chasing each other around, index fingers ready for some more flicking. Maniacal fits of giggles filling the room as you begin to throw pillows at each other, running around the kitchen island like little kids.

Jungkook, despite being the faster runner, was the one being chased. The closer you got to him, the further you began to reach your arm for his t-shirt, your fingertips always grazing the bottom. But once you finally did, something very unexpected happened. You tripped.

Soon enough, you were hands down on the floor, Jungkook below you, a casualty of your fall. The two of you now facing each other, chests heaving from your game of tag, laughing uncontrollably. Not exactly caring if Hobi, the neighbors, or the rest of the world could hear you.

Gradually, you get off him and instead lay on the kitchen floor right next him, aimlessly staring at the ceiling. A comfortable silence in the air. If someone would’ve told you at the beginning of the year that you and Jungkook would be playing tag in the apartment like little kids, you would’ve told them they were crazy. But yet here you were, heart pounding out of your chest, wanting this moment to remain for as long as it possibly could.

“So…” Jungkook continues to stare at the ceiling, “How’d your date go?”

“It was…” you use the only word that could properly describe it, “embarrassing,” you giggle, recalling what happened. Jungkook looks at you, eager to say the least, to know why.

“Let’s just say I ummm … took some signs completely wrong,” you awkwardly chuckle, “or long story short, I sorta kissed him and well let’s just say he has his eyes on someone else in our friend group.”

Was it wrong for Jungkook to feel happy? Happy that you two didn’t have insane chemistry, become boyfriend and girlfriend, and live happily ever after after like in the fairytales. Of course he wasn’t happy that it was you who went for the kiss, nor that it was who you got rejected, but it was better than you coming in here raving on about Park Jimin, no offense to Jimin.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook says, an attempt to comfort you.

“It’s fine really,” you laugh, “what’s weird was that I didn’t really feel as heartbroken or as sad as I thought I’d be,” you shrug, “I’m just glad it didn’t ruin our friendship or anything. If anything I’m sad about what he offered... “

“What did he offer?” Jungkook’s jaw tightens, but you’re quick to shake your head and sigh.

“He offered me a spot at Seoul’s annual art exhibition, I guess since he choreographed a dance, he was able to talk them into giving him a spot and well I said no,” Jungkook frowns, wondering why you didn’t take the offer, “I just couldn’t see myself doing it… I haven’t painted in what feels like forever and to then have it be seen by thousands of people, yeah I can already feel the anxiety from that. One bad comment and I’m going to have to fake a smile the whole time and cry when I get home.”

Jungkook scoffs, “Who cares what others think? Screw them. I know that it’s rich coming from me, but if you think those people who may insult you or throw some sly comment to get under your skin are better than you in any way then let me tell you, they’re not. And who says you have to take their shit? Stop feeling as if you have to always put on some fake smile for people in order to spare their feelings and start looking out for your own,” Jungkook sits up, looking down on you. “So you know what you’re going to do?”

You stare at him in silence, murmuring a tiny “what?”

“You’re going to text Jimin right now and tell him you’re taking that spot,” Jungkook demands, “and if you don’t then I’ll call him myself and do it for you.” Now it’s your turn to sit yourself right up, waiting for a sign in his eyes that told you he was purely kidding. “Well what are you waiting for?” He eyes your pockets, waiting for you to reach for your phone.

“Jungko—”

“Y/N, you can’t tell me that you’re not feeling sad because you know you’re going to regret saying no to the opportunity,” Jungkook’s voice raises without meaning to, placing his hands on your shoulders, “I don’t have to see a single painting of yours to know that you’re talented, and if people can’t see that then honestly it’s their loss.” You feel your heart swell with every word, slowly pulling out your phone from the back pocket of your jeans.

Jungkook gets up from his position, offering his hand to help pull you up. Once he pulls you, he walks towards the fridge, and takes two pints of ice cream out the freezer. Your face lights up as you watch him get two spoons from the drawer, “Don’t hold it against me, but I bought these after you left just in case you came back a crying mess,” he avoids eye contact with you while handing you your pint, “But heartbreak or not, someone has to eat these. So come on, send that text so we can watch some One Piece.”

“Imagine you would’ve never convinced me to do the art exhibition,” you laugh, gently nudging Jungkook.

“Mm though it could’ve prevented a lot of things, the good definitely outweighed the bad so…” Jungkook pauses, “I guess it just goes to show you have to go through the downs in order to reap the rewards of the up.”

“Now look who's getting all wordy on me,” you tease.

“I guess you’re rubbing off on me more than I’d like to admit,” he pretends to be annoyed by dramatically sighing but a laugh soon follows.

June 2019.

After texting Jimin that you had changed your mind, you began to work on the painting you had brainstormed for the art exhibition, first sketching it out and now well on your way to starting your quite large painting.

Honestly, pulling out your old art tools and portfolio from years ago was nostalgic, bringing you a genuine sense of completeness. To have a decent paying job, the best of friends, and now being able to practice the hobby you had once considered turning into a career was everything you could ask for. But what made you feel even warmer inside was just how supportive Jungkook was of the whole thing, always buying and bringing back art materials for you to use, including different colors of paint. Though most of the time they weren’t really what you considered the best quality, it was the thought that counted.

After your boxing lessons with him, you’d usually go straight to your room to begin working on it, for the first time since you stopped painting feeling actual motivation and creativity flowing through you. Life was good. Not good, amazing.

That was until today, when you noticed Jungkook hadn’t woken you up for your usual Saturday workout. “Maybe he overslept?” you think to yourself, probably had a tiresome night at work yesterday. Slowly you make your way outside his door, gently knocking on the door.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Nothing. Not a groan, not a “let me sleep”, absolutely nothing. You knock one more time just to make sure, your shoulders dropping once you realize he wasn’t going to open the door. Remembering what he said about entering his room, you decide that if he was having a bad day, it’d just be best to leave him be for the meanwhile.

Things didn’t really start getting alarming until you and Hobi both noticed that he skipped breakfast. His door remaining absolutely closed the whole morning and day, not a peep of sound coming out.

“Hobi, I’m starting to get worried,” your eyes glimmer with concern, “He hasn’t come out all day.”

“I know I am too, but—” Hobi sighs, “I don’t want to pressure him into—” the sound of a door opening quickly grabs your guys’ attention, the two of you silently watching Jungkook come out of his room. The time on the clock reading 6PM, the sun outside beginning to set. Carefully you watch Jungkook come into the kitchen, grabbing nothing more than a water bottle and a couple of snacks.

There’s a redness to his eyes that you’d never seen before, almost as if he had been sobbing. His under eyes were in the early stages of becoming puffy, and his skin seemed a lot paler than usual. You feel your heart sink when the two of you, for a mere second, make eye contact. Quietly he begins to make his way back to his room, but not before you offer him some food.

“Y/N—” Hobi tries to stop you, but you continue nonetheless.

“I made japchae,” you say, “I even added extra mushrooms like how you always like it,” he stares at you in silence, a cold look to his eyes before ignoring you and returning to his room. The door slamming shut once he does. If your heart was sunk already, then it was definitely stomped and ripped into pieces after that.

You turn your attention back to the TV, feeling Hobi’s stare from the side. Suddenly the volume of the TV is lowered and you already know what's coming, “Y/N…” you hear Hobi say, a sad tone behind his voice.

“Hobi don’t,” you cut him off before he could continue, not wanting to receive his pity, “I just don’t feel like hearing it right now.”

Hobi ignores you, knowing you were just putting up a wall as a defense mechanism, “You know he didn’t mean it,” he says, “he’s probably just having a rough day that’s all.”

“Even if he is, why does he still feel the need to just keep it to himself, why can’t he see that he can trust us, that he can trust me? Sometimes it feels like he knows a lot more about me than I know about him—” you rant, trying to keep your voice down so that Jungkook doesn’t hear you from his room.

Hobi sighs, getting up from the couch and grabbing his jacket and keys from the counter, “Put on your shoes,” he says, and you look at him confused before doing as he says and following him outside. The two of you then climb up the fire ladder of your apartment and onto the roof, the view of the stars sending shivers down your spine.

“Okay now sit—” he commands, which you do anyway.

“Why are we even out here?” you question, regretting not bringing your own sweater.

“Because I’m going to tell you a story, and well I don’t want Jungkook hearing us,” he says, making himself comfortable in the spot next to you, “You ready?”

Silently you nod your head yes, and so he continues.

“When I was a kid, I was what you could call ...nerdy … so to speak,” he chuckles, “I had those big ol glasses that made you look like you had fish eyes, I liked reading the Harry Potter books, I didn’t like playing sports like the rest of the boys in my elementary school did, and well in general I just wasn’t like a lot of them,” he pauses to look up at the sky, continuing once he was ready, “Now when you’re in elementary, kids won’t directly bully you, but instead they’ll make little teasing remarks because well ...we’re kids. We don’t know the big curse words yet or what we’re capable of physically. And so as a kid I’d let those jokes slide, I’d let their insults become the label put on me, not knowing the true maliciousness behind it.”

You feel your eyes become glossy, knowing where this was leading, “But the older you get, the more you begin to learn and well soon enough the teasing became full on bullying by middle school. The older kids would make these nicknames for me, and constantly call me them before, during, and after school. Occasionally even following me for a couple of blocks when walking home just to remind me that they had power over me,” Hobi’s voice begins to shake a little, “and well I didn’t know how to speak up for myself, let alone defend myself and so it just became a regular occurrence until on a certain day in middle school,” he pauses, taking a big breath.

“I had been walking home from school that day, and for some reason that day I decided I wanted to take a different route back home, probably because I was hoping the kids who would bully me would decide not to follow me. But boy was I was wrong,” he feigns a laugh, “The route I had taken was right next to the Suyeong River, and well I think it’s important to note that I didn’t know how to swim at the time. I think I personally choose not to remember too much, but one moment I was walking and the next I had my face being pulled in and out of the water, the sounds of laughter being the thing I remember the most from that day,” Hobi closes his eyes, his voice cracking as he continues, “And I just remember thinking how could kids my age be so viscous?” tears begin to silently fall from his eyes, his hands slightly shaking at the recollection of the memory, “I thought this was it, this is the end of the line for me.”

“It wasn’t until I felt the release of my hair and the touch of someone pulling back that the nightmare came to an end,” Hobi wipes his tears with the sleeve of his sweater, “When I finally managed to get some kind of focus on my vision, I’d come to see the boy who was pushing me into the water completely knocked out the floor while the rest of his buddies were running to who knows where,” The scene from the club begins to replay in your head, remembering the person who had gotten there just at the right time.

“And then there was Jungkook, the boy I’d never seen a day in my life , helping me fix myself along with looking for my glasses even after having knocked out that boy with his bare hands. After that me and Jungkook became the best of friends, like actual genuine friends and the bullying had completely stopped. I’d also come to find out that Jungkook was a boxer, and not a casual one, like an “I practice every weekday, weekend, day, and night.” kind of one. He was aiming to go pro, and so he had to put in the time for it. His parents were supportive of it as well, as I think his dad saw the most potential in it.”

Hobi takes a breather before continuing, finding yourself completely immersed in the story, “And so when our senior year came around and I had gotten accepted into SNU, I asked Jungkook what he was planning on doing now that we were graduating. And well that’s when he told me that had gotten an offer to train and compete in the states, where there’d be a lot more tougher competition and where he could really develop the natural talent he had. So on graduation day we had our teary farewell, and I remember telling him that if he ever needed anything and I truly meant anything, that he’d know where to find me.”

“So when years later I received a call at about 2 in the morning, asking if he could redeem the favor he had once done for me so long ago, I knew I couldn’t say no. I don’t know what happened in the states, and I don’t bother to ask him because I know that the day he’s ready to tell me or you, he will. Whatever did happen over there, changed him though. He came back a colder, more rude person, and honestly I thought he’d be like that forever until he started to get to know you,” Hobi smiles, “That’s when I began to see glimpses of the Jungkook I knew from high school again, the one who liked to mess around all the time, and never took himself too seriously.”

“You see y/n, I’m telling you all of this because I want you to know that Jungkook isn’t like us in the way of opening up when he feels sad or mad. He’s used to being the one doing all the protecting and so when he finds himself in a place where he’s overwhelmed by the feelings of sadness or anger, he gives the cold shoulder or becomes someone who isn’t like him at all, in order to avoid talking about it. I think it’s because he doesn’t want anyone to know the burden he carries. To sum it up y/n, Jungkook is the definition of when it rains, it pours … but when it shines, you’ll completely forget it ever rained to begin with,” Hobi pats you softly on the shoulder, “So the best thing you can do right now is let the storm play itself out, so that then you can be there when the rainbow comes back out.”

If only you had listened.

“Ahh so it was Hobi who told you everything,” Jungkook scrunches his face.

“No duhhhhh,” you sing, “Who else could have?”

Jungkook shrugs, “I don’t know, I thought you just magically figured it out on your own,” you’re unsure on whether he’s being sarcastic or not so all you is narrow your eyes at him, deciding to stay silent than make yourself look stupid.

“Mm either way Hobi made a BIG mistake telling me,” you laugh, “because he should've known my nosiness was only going to lead to problems.”

“Tell me about it,” Jungkook teases, resulting in a light smack to the shoulder.

July 2019.

It had been about a month since Jungkook’s change in behavior, his cold demeanor reminding you of when he first moved in months ago. The only time he’d ever leave his room was to go to work, use the restroom, or get his food to take to his room. You had been working on your painting whenever you got the chance, a distraction from the constant concern you felt for Jungkook. You know Hobi said to give it time, but how long would it be until Jungkook decided to finally open up? He couldn’t go on like this forever, could he?

You missed the Jungkook you had gotten to know in the last couple of months, the one who showed you that the tough wall he put up around him was nothing more than an act. That behind it, he was a complete sweetheart who liked drinking his banana milk and watching One Piece whenever he had the chance, the one who constantly liked to steal your things from your room and then replace them with an even better version, the one whose laugh sorta reminded you of Elmo but was still absolutely adorable, and lastly the one who you had found constantly by your side and falling further in love with every waking moment.

Not like, but love. You had come to realize it while you were in bed one night, your only thoughts being thunk all relating to Jungkook in some way. Remembering the number of times this month where you’d find yourself outside his bedroom door, inches away from knocking, knowing that all you needed was for him to open up the door at least once and you’d know everything was going to be okay. Sadly, you’d always find yourself chickening out, Hobi’s words always ringing in your head to serve as a reminder. Jungkook needed space. And as much as you wanted to run up to him and give him a tight hug, you knew you had to respect his boundaries.

So then why was it that today, when you found yourself painting and missing a certain color, a tiny voice in your head was telling you that maybe Jungkook had it… Realistically you knew it wasn’t possible, you had kept track of all your colors from the moment you started, but damn was that voice convincing.

Getting up from the floor, you walk out into the living room, checking around to see if it was there. Hobi, who was currently taking a nap on the couch, seemed completely at peace.

You check his room to see if he has it, but your efforts were to no avail. The only place it had to be was Jungkook’s room. It had to be. At least that’s what you were telling yourself so could finally have an excuse to knock on his door. Making your way to his room, you prepare to knock, your knuckles lightly tapping against the wooden door. But to your surprise the door creaks open, no one presumably in the room…

You could’ve sworn Jungkook was home? You double check the restroom, making sure it wasn’t going to be an incident like last time, but this time he really wasn’t there. The voice of reasoning versus temptation now had you completely torn. You remember the day Jungkook first moved in, and how secretive he got over you seeing whatever it was inside his boxes, and the night after your date and how stern he was about you not entering.

Slowly you push open the door of his room, completely forgetting Hobi’s words and deciding that it was either now or never. You knew you were a pushing boundary that you shouldn’t be, but a part of you also felt like it had to be done. Maybe if you found out what was bothering Jungkook so much, you could help him.

Honestly, you weren't too sure on what you expected when you first entered. Considering how secretive Jungkook was about it, you sorta assumed the room would be all black and have a whole bunch of weird things hanging across the walls, but surprisingly his room looked completely normal. The bed covers were a navy blue color that matched with some of the artwork he had hung across the beige colored apartment walls. The drawers were plain and boring while his desk looked like any other ordinary desk: stacked with random sketches, pens, One piece manga, and printed webtoons. If this is all he was hiding, then it really no made sense because there was literally nothing to hide….

That was until you saw the closed closet door, and once you opened it, you were blown away. For what was behind those closet doors was an entire memorabilia of awards, belts, photos, and trophies which you assumed were all Jungkook’s, newspapers from the states with headlines that spoke of how amazing Jungkook was. Many of them include the words “rising”, “prodigy”, and “the next big thing”. Your eyes try to take everything in all in one go, but it was just so much. There were papers that were written about him even when he was a kid, pictures of his with several belts around his waist amazed you. This was insane.

But it wasn’t until you noticed the newspaper headline of the paper hung right in the center of the practical shrine that the smile from your face fell, as it read, “Prodigy Jeon Jungkook, K.O’d in Round 12 against Brandon Star.” You look at the date, and everything begins to start making sense. The date which read December 1, 2018, only a couple of weeks prior to your first meeting with him at New Years, the churning feeling in your stomach only becoming heavier as you read the newspaper next to it. “Rising Star, Jeon Jungkook, disappears. Where is he now?” it reads, and as you skim through the different articles, the whole memorabilia shrine begins to make sense. Jungkook didn’t have this here for the purpose of maintaining old memories, but for the purpose of constantly reminding himself of what he once was and how he ended up failing, torturing himself to say the least. It’d explain his pent up anger when you first met him, the scar was still fresh.

Grabbing one of the trophies from the memorabilia desk, you observe the glass material and admire its fine detail, Jungkook’s name written in cursive underneath the title. Slowly your fingers graze over it, whispering his name to yourself, “Jeon Ju—”

“What do you think you’re doing?” a voice harshly interrupts, scaring you and causing you to jump. The slippery trophy in your hands falling to floors, several pieces of glass now shattered onto the floor. Turning to face the owner of the voice, your heart stops when you find Jungkook staring at the floor, an expressionless look on his face.

“I—” your brain completely freezes, only staring at his balled up fist which was becoming more red with every passing second.

“I told you—” he closes his eyes, letting out an exasperated breath, “I told you to stay the fuck out of my room,” he finally snaps, his enraged voice echoing across the walls of the room, “So then why, why the fuck are you in here right now!” he moves towards you, his face now becoming red in anger. Not caring whether he was stepping on glass or not.

“I know but—”

He cuts you off, “But fucking what? There’s no reason you should even be in here right now y/n! None!” he screams, his rage only furthering with every word. Tears begin to well up in your eyes as you stammer to defend yourself. “How would you feel like if I barged into your room and destroyed something personal of yours, huh?”

All you can do is stare at him, never seeing him this enraged before, the sight definitely a scary one, “Answer me goddamit!” he yells, his fist still balled up, holding himself back from punching anything. He looks down at the broken glass one more time, his chest now heaving in anger before storming out the room.

Quickly you follow him, chills going down your spine when you see him turn to your room.

“What are you—” you begin, but it’s too late. Everything happens in slow motion, from the fist being thrown to the sound of the canvas you’d been working so long on cracking, several holes and rips appearing soon after. You look at the scene in front of you in silence, shock running through your veins, and the need to vomit stronger than ever before. Jungkook breathes heavily, staring at what he’s just done, not feeling a single ounce of remorse.

The closing feeling in your throat is one that’s too overwhelming, but the anger you were now feeling was even stronger, “What is wrong with you,” you whisper, tears falling down from your eyes, a look of terror overtaking your face, “What is wrong with you!” you scream, lips trembling as your voice breaks at just how loud you were. Jungkook feels his blood run cold, taken back by your sudden outburst.

“I have been nothing but kind to you since the day we’ve met, nothing but!” you yell, hot tears uncontrollably falling from your hysteria.

Jungkook scoffs, yelling right in return, “Do you want some kind of reward for that? Is that it? Is that all this is? Another ego booster for you so you can pat yourself on the back and say you’re a good person!”

“I don’t need anything from anyone! Especially not from someone like you,” you spit, Jungkook’s jaw clenching at your response.

“Ah I knew that nice ol princess act was nothing more than mere bullshit,” he bitterly laughs, “finally had enough of your whole little treat everyone with kindness moral?” he mocks you.

“It’s not a fucking act, I’m just not a miserable person like you!” you grit your teeth, the temptation to throw something at him at an all time high.

“No you just live in this big old fantasy bubble that’s got you believing that kindness solves all the world's problems!”

“Yeah well it’s better than thinking that being a fucking prick to the rest of the world gets you anywhere, I mean look at where you’re at now!” you yell, knowing you were treading on thin ice, but you didn’t care at all anymore. The ice was shattered the moment he destroyed your painting, “I understand that I made a mistake going into your room, but you don’t have to take the rest of your miserable life out on me! You think everyone around you wants to be some kind of punching bag all the time for you?” the veins in your neck begin to pop out, and you almost feel as if your chest was going to physically explode at any moment, “How dare you come in here and treat everyone around you like complete shit all because you’re living a sad tragic life!”

“That’s not true,” he snarls, a scowl on his face.

“Isn’t it?” you scoff, “You’ve done it since the first day you got here, and so let me do the favor of telling you the truth and giving you a goddamn reality check! We’re all sick and tired of it! Just because you’re miserable doesn’t mean you get to make everyone around you as well! And let me tell you, I’ll be damned if I let someone like you make me just as rotten as yourself,” and for a small second you see the hurt across Jungkook’s face, and you think maybe you’ve gone too far.

Maybe this could’ve all been prevented had you never entered his room. But then you think to yourself that no, this was bound to happen. This was always going to happen whether you liked it or not. The questions had always just been: when was it going to happen and what was going to be the straw that broke the camel’s back? By now both of your chests are heaving, and there’s a silence that fills the room. Time acts as nothing more than an illusion.

“Is that what you really think?” he says, a cold hardened expression on his face again, “That I make you miserable?” You look at the destroyed painting on the floor, a symbol that despite building and making something so beautiful, all it took was one slip of the finger for it all to go down the drain. Without saying anything, you slowly nod to him, the emptiness in your heart acting as a driving force.

“What the—” Hobi walks in the room, dazed and confused, “What the fuck is going on in here?” He asks, but the two of you remain silent, continuing to stare at one another.

That is until Jungkook breaks away from the stare, muttering a small “nothing,” under his breath, walking out of the room and going back to his own, the door loudly slamming shut.

“Y/N…” Hobi begins, but you cut him off before he even gets the chance, a tiresome expression on your face.

“Hobi,” you shake your head, “Just leave me alone!,” you snap at him, but it comes out more as a plea than a demand, voice completely weary. Hobi stares at you for a moment before doing so, gently closing the door when making his way out. Once you hear the sound of the door close, you squat down to the floor, fingers grazing the painting you’d work so hard on, a muffled sob finally escaping from your lips.

a/n: whew! originally this was supposed to be nothing more than a small drabble, but as i kept writing it just ended becoming this monstrous of a fic that i had to split into two lmao. hopefully i didn’t make the switches between present day and the past too confusing for y’all. part two will probably be up by next friday, once my finals week is over :)) any messages, anons, comments, reblogs, and like are appreciated! see y’all next time! 💞

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agustdakasuga · 4 years

Text

Between the Bloodshed | Chapter 7

Genre: Mafia!AU, Angst, Romance, Fluff

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Doctor!Reader, Gangster!Namjoon, Gangster!Seokjin, Gangster!Yoongi, Gangster!Hoseok, Gangster!Jimin, Gangster!Taehyung, Gangster!Jungkook

Summary: Being a freelance doctor, this was just supposed to be any other job, helping a private client and taking care of him through his recovery. But you were not expecting to get caught in something so much darker that would change your life entirely.

Going with your parents to an event, you didn’t think to meet some familiar faces there. And finally, the 7 boys get to see the family that you refused to speak about.

Warning: This story is fictional and has nothing to do with real life events or the actual members of BTS. It may contain depictions of violence, blood shed/ gore and mentions of abuse. Please read at your own discretion.

The dreaded friday morning finally came. Your mother had spent the whole night before on the phone with you, squealing excitedly about the dress she chose for you.

“I’ll see you tonight, Kookie.” You stroked his head, making sure the rabbit had enough food and water for the day. Adjusting your hair in the mirror, you cringed slightly at yourself, clad in a light blue sundress your mother always liked. You slung your bag over your shoulder and headed out the door.

“Can I have a coffee to go, please?” You ordered. The maid bowed and scurried off to make your regular iced coffee order.

“Woah.” Jungkook came down.

“One word and you’ll be unconscious.” You grumbled. He choked, whistling innocently instead.

“Have a nice day, agashi.” The maid placed your to-go container on the counter. You nodded your head and took a sip. When you turned to head to the front door, you saw 7 pairs of eyes staring at you.

“What?” You hissed.

“Nothing.” Taehyung shook his head. You rolled your eyes, walking to the front to wear your shoes.

“I’ll be back tonight.” You mumbled, giving a backwards wave before leaving the house. Your father was already waiting by his car for you. You gave a small wave and headed over. Without a word, your father just gave an acknowledging nod and entered the car. That was your relationship, strictly professional. Frankly, you were thankful for that.

“Your mom is very excited for you to visit.” He said as he started to drive.

“I know. Work gets busy so it’s hard to stop by.” You shrugged, putting your seatbelt on.

“This family seems well off.” He commented.

“Well, I’m sure you’ve heard of them. They aren’t exactly hidden from public eye in terms of their achievements and wealth. 7 young men, rich beyond belief.” You scoffed.

“I do know them, do you?”

“I would like to think I do. Working for them has been a pleasure, so far. For young men, they keep things very professional.” You said. Your parents always tried to convince you to work in a normal hospital, they always believed your skills should be displayed for others to see.

“You declined your mother’s invitation for that surgical seminar?”

“She has other surgeons under her that are equally, if not more, qualified than me. It’ll benefit them better if one of them were elected to go instead of me.” You explained. Your father pursed his lips.

The car pulled up to the house. It wasn’t a mansion but it was still a rather big property that your parents owned.

“(y/n)!” Your mother ran out to greet you with a hug.

“Omma.” You hesitantly wrapped your arms around her. She chuckled, pulling away as she held your hands in hers. Patting the back of your hands, she led you into the house.

“You look healthy.” She complimented.

“Thank you.” You gave a small smile. There was an array of dishes on the dining table, ready for you to arrive for a meal. You went to help bring the bowls of rice out. Even if it was awkward with your parents, it was nice to have a sit down, family style meal. Your parents sat opposite you, together, while you sat across the table.

“The car will be picking us up at 7pm.” Your father said. You nodded your head, chewing the end of your chopstick to stop yourself from saying something you would regret.

“Stop that, (y/n). It’s a bad habit.” Your mother scolded. You removed the metal from your mouth, picking the foods instead.

“That’s a nice bracelet.” Your mother smiled.

“Oh, yeah... Just a token gift from a friend.” You shrugged it off. Through the rest of the meal, you listened to your parents talk about what they have been up to at work, in an attempt to persuade you to work with them.

“You didn’t accept my invitation for that seminar. It’s prestigious, (y/n), that’s why I want you to go.” Your mother said.

“One of your surgeons under you would benefit better from it than me, omma. Besides, I’m under a contract to work with my client now. It wouldn’t be responsible of me to just leave for a two week seminar like that.” You scoffed, putting a scoop of rice into your mouth.

"Have you spoken to your brother recently?” Your father asked. You shook your head. Your brother didn’t live in Korea, he lived in the UK with his family.

“Well, he has been helping with a lot of big cases in the queen’s court. They may even fly him to the States to give a seminar to some prestigious universities.” He informed.

“I see...” Your brother wasn’t a doctor like you but he was a big-shot lawyer that worked on tons of famous court cases.

“He says he wants to visit in a few weeks. You should be here so we can have a nice dinner together. Jumin might want to have the baby here.” Your mother said excitedly.

“Oh, really...” You weren’t really interested at the thought of your sister-in-law having her second child here.

“And you can help too.”

“Omma, I’m working, I told you. I can’t be here just to take care of her new born.” You sighed. You loved your sister-in-law but having to live in a house with her, her new born and your nephew while your brother is here, will be torture for you with your parents constantly telling you how much greater they are compared to you.

RINGGGGGGG

“Sorry, work call.” You stood up and stepped aside to answer your phone.

“Hello?”

“Am I interrupting? You just sound like you’re having the time of your life. ”

“Ha... ha... sure. But no, you’re to interrupting, you called at the perfect time, actually. What’s up? Someone dead or close to being dead?” You asked. Jimin laughed at your joke.

“Unfortunately, no. Yoongi hyung is complaining about pain so I just wanted to ask if there is anything I can give him.”

“Well, considering my medicine safe keys are with me, there’s no much you can do. Oh wait, Jin has a spare set. You can get him to open it. Look for the green bottle labelled ‘Celebrex’ or celecoxib. Give him one and that should be enough until I come back tonight.” You instructed.

“Wait, how come only Jin hyung gets to have a spare set of keys?”

“As the oldest, I would trust that he is responsible enough to not have a feast with my pills.” You scoffed.

“I’m hurt that you don’t think we’re responsible enough.”

“That doesn’t make me feel guilty at all. Anyway, let me know how Yoongi is. For now, ask him to wear his sling.” You told Jimin. You wouldn’t mind Yoongi having to call you home to help him.

“He’s still able to curse at us so we should be fine.”

“Bummer.” You mumbled. With another laugh, Jimin hung up. You sighed, returning to the table.

“Your dad just got called in for an emergency.” Your mother informed as she cleared up the dishes. You nodded your head, watching your father put his coat on and grab his work bag. With a small wave of acknowledgement, he slipped his shoes on and left. Your parents were both workaholics, they were always highly praised for their work ethics.

“So, any partners yet?” Your mother asked as you helped her with the dishes.

“Omma, you know I’m not looking for anyone now. I’m very much involved in my work like you and dad.” You said.

“But still, with our busy schedules as residents, your father and I were able to get married and start a family. If not, you and your brother wouldn’t even be here.” She let out a small laugh.

“I know. But oppa already made you a grandma with Jisung (nephew), with another on the way. There’s no rush for me.” You shrugged.

“It’ll still be nice.”

“I’m gonna rest in my room for a little bit.” You dried your hands and headed up to your room. Conversations like these with your parents were just suffocating and tiresome.

“I need to get out of this.” You changed out of your dress and slipped on some shorts with an oversized hoodie.

BEEP BEEP

‘Jimin said you’re having the time of your life. - Hoseok’

‘Yes, I am. And are you supposed to be texting me when I’m off duty? A little unprofessional, don’t you think, Mr Jung? - (y/n)’

‘If you can do wellness checks on us, I can do it on you too. But if you need saving with a ‘medical emergency’ to come back to the house, I’m sure I can injure someone for you. Maybe Jungkook or Jimin can take the bullet. I’ll make sure it’s not fatal. - Hoseok’

‘It’s just visiting my parents. I think I can handle it. But I’m oddly touched that you’re willing to do that for me. Someone kissing a*s here? - (y/n)’

‘With you? NEVERRRRRRR. - Hoseok’

“(y/n)? I wanted to show you your dress that I picked out for you.” Your mother was at your door. Leaving your phone on your bed, you went over and opened the door for her.

“Look.” She unzipped the cloth covering and revealed the dark blue dress that she picked out for you. It was off shoulder with a flowy skirt.

“It’s nice.” You forced a smile.

“I knew you would like it.” She grinned, patting your head. Going to your closet, she hung it up, digging through whatever shoes you had left behind to match the dress. She placed the shoes at the bottom of the dress.

“I trust that you can do your hair and make up on your own?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Of course.” You shrugged.

“Tonight, it’s a gala event to celebrate the approval of a new health campus to be opened. Governors, sponsors and potential candidates for the board of directors will be attending. It’s a rather big event. A lot of big names will be there so naturally, a lot of press ” Your mother informed. You nodded your head, wondering if you would see 7 familiar faces there as well.

“Your father is a potential candidate for the new psychiatric unit head.” She continued.

“I’m sure he would love for you to be under him. He can definitely get you a good position under his team. Or you could be under my team when I make the move over.” She looked at you.

“Wait, both of you are moving over to this new health campus?” You asked, completely ignoring her persuading you to work under them.

“That’s the plan.” She shrugged.

“But you’ve been with Korea University Hospital for like... ever. And dad’s already in the board of directors for Seoul Institute of Mental Health.” You frowned slightly.

“Well, when a better opportunity comes up, means it’s time to move on.” Your mother place her hand over yours.

You had done your hair, neatly braiding it and pinning it up. Sitting in front of your vanity, you did some light make up on your face, finishing off with some shimmering lip gloss.

“Time to change.” You went to your closet and fished the blue dress out fo the cloth covering. You slipped it on, smoothing down the skirt with your hands and staring at your reflection to make sure that nothing was out of place. Your parents would want everything to be pristine for a good impression.

“(y/n)! Are you ready?” Your mother called.

“Coming!” Picking up your shoes in your hands, you carried your small bag and headed downstairs.

“I knew it was a good pick.” Your mother clasped her hands together with sparkling eyes as she saw you approaching. Even your father nodded in approval at your appearance.

“Thanks.” You murmured.

“Let’s go.” Your father held his arm out to your mother, who hooked arms with him, and walked out. You simply walked behind them silently. A limousine was ready on the drive way with a driver standing there, opening the door for the three of you to enter. You sat opposite your parents, your hands resting in your lap. Your fingers fiddled with your bracelet.

“Sir, madam, agashi.” The car came to a stop. Through the tinted window, you saw a row of reporters ready at the entrance of the building. You took a deep breath as the chauffeur opened the door.

“We’ll answer a few questions then head in. Just smile and answer things briefly.” Your father said to you. You nodded and stepped out.

“Mr (y/l/n)!” Reporters called out.

“Is it true that you’re a potential candidate for the new health campus’ psychiatric department?” You stood by the side, a small smile as your father answered questions.

“Right this way.” The security cut off the questions after a few minutes. You let out a sigh of relief.

“Let’s go say hi.” Your mother didn’t let you out of her sight, dragging you to meet old men that possibly decided her and your father’s future job positions. All you could do was smile and shake their hands.

“(y/n), you remember Jaewon?” Your mother smiled, bringing forth a young man in a suit to you. You internally rolled your eyes, here we go. Every event you went to seemed to be a matchmaking opportunity for your mother. She would be very delighted to wed you off.

“Jaewon?” You tilted your head.

“He was in my cardio-thoracic team but went to the States 5 years ago for a partnership.” She reminded.

“Ah, yes.” You smiled and shook his hand. You’ve seen him a few times. Your mother had even invited him over for a couple of meals when youw ere still living with her.

“How are you, (y/n)? You look amazing.” He complimented.

“I’m doing good, thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself. I’m glad you still speak Korean fluently.” You raised your eyebrows.

“(y/n)!” Your mother sent you a disapproving look while Jaewon blinked but laughed, nodding his head. Soon, you saw your mother abandoning you to join your father, leaving you to converse with Jaewon.

“Where are you working now?”

“Private.” You said, taking a glass of champagne and sipping it. Jaewon nodded his head.

“Right, you worked with private clients right? As like their in-house, family physician. I know your mother told me that you weren’t comfortable working in a public place. So you turned down a lot of good job opportunities at prestigious hospitals.” Jaewon sipped from his own glass. You frowned slightly, what exactly was he hinting at?

“What you hear from my mother is what she thinks she knows about my job. Anything to try and convince someone to persuade me to work under them.” You chuckled.

“That’s not-”

“Sorry, may I interrupt?” A new voice came. There was whispers and murmurs around you. That voice was all too familiar.

“I was wondering if I was going to see you here.” You smirked, turning around to face 7, all too familiar, men. Jimin winked at you while Hoseok flashed his blinding smile. Jaewon looked confused.

“Of course we would be here. Sponsors are the main invited guests, you know?” Yoongi spoke first.

“You know them, (y/n)?” Jaewon asked.

“Know them? I live with them. Unfortunately.” You rolled your eyes. Jaewon’s eyes widened at your statement. Jungkook placed his arm around your waist, staring Jaewon down.

“I told you about the touching.” You glared at the youngest, elbowing his ribs. Still, he didn’t lose his composure and just calmly moved away.

“Well, bye!” Namjoon gave a friendly smile before pulling you away. You gave Jaewon a backwards wave, following the boys to another side of the room. Once you were away from most of the crowd, you let out a sigh of relief, shaking your head while the boys just gave you amused smiles.

“When you said you had friday night plans, we didn’t expect to see you here, doc.” Jin smiled.

“Let’s just say, I didn’t come here willingly.” You snorted.

“Are your parents sponsors?” Taehyung asked.

“No, they aren’t. They’re supposedly part of the new health campus’ head department team so they’re here to butter people up.” You crossed your arms. The boys weren’t surprised by how honest you were.

“But you look nice.” Jimin smiled.

“Stop or I will stab your eye. Also, how’s the shoulder Yoongo?” You changed the subject. Yoongi shrugged his good shoulder and you nodded your head with a small smile.

“(y/n).” Someone called.

“Dad.” You turned to see your father. He raised an eyebrow and you sighed, walking over to him.

“I didn’t know you were friends with our sponsors? They’re one of the new campus’ biggest sponsors, you know? Young entrepreneurs with big names.” Your father said. You shrugged.

“I don’t know if I would call them friends. But they’re the clients I’m working with now. Honestly, didn’t even know that they were coming or that they were sponsors.” You blinked at him. Your father nodded, turning on his business smile before walking over to the 7 young men. They all shook hands with your father, exchanging formalities.

“I had no idea my daughter was working for the family.” He laughed.

“Yes, she’s one of our best employees. It’s a pleasure having her work with us.” Namjoon complimented and you mentally scoffed.

“She could use that talent in a hospital but refuses, sadly.” Your dad joked and you rolled your eyes.

“Shall we get some food?” Jungkook offered. You nodded and headed over to the buffet table with him and Taehyung, leaving your dad to talk to Namjoon and the others.

“This is boring.” Taehyung complained.

“You would think that with how many events you guys have been to, that you’re used to all this. I haven’t been to many and I am.” You shrugged, picking up a piece of cheese and putting it into your mouth. Taehyung and Jungkook laughed, they knew you hated being here from the moment they saw you.

“Shall we get out of here?” Jungkook wriggled his eyebrows.

“I would actually like to live another day so count me out. I’m here only for my parents and I plan to see to that until the end of the night.” You stated. Taehyung handed you a glass of wine.

“(y/n), I was looking for you.” Your mother came. You placed the glass down, stepping away from Taehyung and Jungkook.

“What’s wrong, omma?”

“You... know them?” She cast a brief glance to the two young men behind you, who had now been surrounded by other young girls that wanted at least half of the attention they gave you.

“My current clients.” You shrugged.

“I see... Only clients?”

“Yes, omma. You know I don’t mix business with personal relations. Everything is strictly professional.” You assured her. She nodded her head. You couldn’t tell if she was relieved or disappointed by what you said.

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svnflowervol666 · 4 years

Note

Hey I love your work and Idk if your taking requests but if you are could you do a oneshot where Harry and y/n have planned to have the perfect birth plan but then coronavirus happens and they have to have the baby in their own home. Stay safe - anon ❤️❤️

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: Didn’t mean for this one to be so long and I most definitely hate the end, but here she is! Take care and TPWK.

Harry’s eyes lit up like a child’s on Christmas morning when he felt his girlfriend’s phone vibrating against the cool, granite countertop where they were currently eating breakfast in their vacation home in California. What started out as a last-minute getaway to soak up the remaining time they had before they would welcome their first little bub into the world turned into a rather long stint, as a pandemic had quickly swept the world off its feet and ceased all travel. They were stuck, everyone was stuck, and Y/N was eight months pregnant.

The phone call they’d been waiting on, the one happening right now that was causing Harry to nervously bounce his foot against the metal support beam on his chair, would determine whether or not it was safe for the two of them to return to London so Y/N could give birth alongside Harry and her regular doctor. They’d been stuck inside for so long that they’ve had time to talk about literally everything -- about reupholstering the chairs in the living room, about their childhood friends and secrets they kept for them, about if pineapple belonged on pizza and if chips and salsa is considered a meal. Harry and Y/N talked about a lot, but what they hadn’t discussed, was the possibility of giving birth to their son thousands of miles away from their families and the doctors they were most comfortable with. It was always understood between both of them that in spite of the state of the world, things would always work out for them; they’d get approved for travel and be home in England before her due date. They’d have the most perfect baby boy in the most perfect way imaginable.

They were right, but only about the first part.

He watched her fumble with the gemstone ring that adorned her middle finger as she answered the phone call with her other hand. The stone matched the birth-month of their unborn son. Harry had gotten it for her that Christmas and she hadn’t taken it off since. She anxiously chewed on the skin of her bottom lip, still quite swollen from sleep. Harry’s heartbeat sounded like it was hurling towards his eardrums at a rapid pace, soon becoming all he could make sense of due to how important this phone call was.

Y/N wouldn’t have to repeat to Harry what the doctor told her on the phone, because the look on her face said everything he needed to know.

“It’s just not safe for anyone, especially pregnant women, to travel right now. You’re not facing any special circumstances that would warrant the need to leave the country, so we’re asking that you meet with one of our partnering hospitals to find a doctor in LA that can prepare you to give birth.”

“Yeah, I understand.” she was able to get out as a wave of salty tears spilled onto her cheeks.

She reached for Harry’s hand that laid protectively over her swollen stomach, squeezing her sweaty palm against his own as their fears were confirmed; they had to have the baby here and not in London with their family.

“Thank you so much. I’ll, uhm, give you a call back when I’m ready to schedule our next appointment...Yeah, you too. Bye.”

Y/N paid no mind to her surroundings after that, quick to wiggle herself off of the barstool and abandon the almond milk yogurt and her cell phone as she made a beeline for the bedroom her and Harry shared.

“Baby, wha-”

“Just need a minute,” her blubbers were hardly decipherable as she carried herself down the hall, but Harry was quick to follow.

“Nope,” Harry interjected, walking through the doorway just as she had collapsed into the plush mattress with her head in her hands.

“Yeh don’t get t’ do this by yourself.”

He hushed and cooed her as he climbed towards her from the foot of the bed, not leaving an inch of space between them when he laid down beside her. Not a second was wasted when he got his hands on her, pressing kisses to her forehead and thumbing away each tear that cascaded down her cheek. She was already a sensitive one -- add pregnancy into the mix and a couple of meltdowns like this were bound to happen.

“Come back t’ me, lovie. Please,” Harry pleaded, his voice soft and tender against the heart-wrenching sounds of her cries.

“I just - I can’t do this. Not here,” Y/N hiccupped.

“Sure you can,” Harry quipped through his own frets about becoming a father in a country he didn’t particularly consider to be home.

“We’ll have mum ship all of his stuff over here. We’ll make sure we’ve got everything we need. We’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know any of those doctors at the hospital. We don’t even know our neighbors here for Christ’s sake,” her voice was hoarse and strained.

Her words struck Harry as hurtful, but true. But he was quite the optimist, and wouldn’t dare let his girl be sad. With everything in his power, he would spend his last breath trying to make her happy and see that smile that he loved so much.

“Honey,” he began, “I know this is not easy. ‘M not gonna pretend like I know how you’re feeling, but I know that, as shit as this situation is, we’ll have our son by the end of it. Tha’s worth goin’ through just about anything, isn’t it?”

Y/N nodded through deep breaths, slowly relaxing into Harry’s touch.

“We could even have him here, if yeh want. Takes the worry about gettin’ sick at the hospital out of th’ way. Yeh can do whatever yeh want, however yeh want. And I’d be right there with yeh the whole time.”

She seemed to ease up significantly at the thought of a home birth, as Harry could tell just by the look on her face that she seemed less upset at the thought of not being able to give birth in London and more so intrigued by what he’d just mentioned.

“Y-You think we could do that?”

“Absolutely,” Harry answered in a whisper, “‘M sure it’s just a few phone calls and we’ll can have it all sorted out.”

“I like that idea,” her voice was muffled as she leaned in to kiss Harry’s wrist that still held on to either side of her face.

“Me too, now tha’ I think about it. He’ll already be safe at home the second he’s out.”

“This isn’t home,” Y/N pouted as she wormed her way out of Harry’s grasp and settled herself on top of his chest, baby bump pressing impossibly close into Harry’s torso.

Harry sighed as he welcomed his girl into his embrace, using the hand that wasn’t wrapped around her shoulder to cradle her stomach.

“’S more of a home than it isn’t a home. We’ve got memories here,” Harry reminded her.

“We’ve done birthdays and anniversaries here. Couple of New Years Eve parties I think... Shagged in every room too if I’m not mistaken.”

That earned a laugh from Y/N, her taught belly jiggling slightly against Harry’s.

“Even the attic,” she exhaled.

“Even the attic. Couldn’t help it though. Yeh ass looked way too good in those shorts when we were moving the furnit-”

“I get it. Don’t need to be reminded of how I used to look before this happened,” she said, gesturing to her bump.

“Erm, your ass still looks plenty sexy if that's what you’re sayin’,” Harry almost looked offended.

“In fact, I’d say yeh look even sexier now than yeh did back then.”

“Yeah, it’s cos you’re a narcissist and me being pregnant with your son is feeding your ego.”

Harry’s childish laugh was like the cooling balm that soothed the blistering phone call she’d received not twenty minutes prior, melting away any sadness or despair she held in her heart.

A peaceful quietness took over them, neither of them feeling like there was much to be said. Maybe they wouldn’t be having the most ideal experience into first-time parenthood, but they were together and they had each other, stupid jokes and annoying habits included. And that’s all they needed.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #dad!harry x pregnant!reader #dad!harry #dad!harry styles #harry styles x pregnant!reader #asks

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wiypt-writes · 4 years

Text

Too Loose And You’ll Lose It

co-written with @icanfeelastormbrewing

Ch7: Old Habits Die Hard Part 3

Summary: Stella faces the aftermath of her actions in Mexico, and heads home to stay with her mom for a while. But Jake’s hot on her heels, and he’s not giving in without a fight.

Pairing: Jake Jensen x OFC Stella Stevenson

Warnings: Bad language and a whole heap of angst.

A/N: So here is the final part of Chapter 7…and well, we hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. We do not own any characters in this series bar Stella Stevenson and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

TLAYLI Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 7 Part 2

So lay down your weary heart, stay by my side, and I promise I’ll be here, till we run out of time

"Hey, Pumpkin." Evan gave Stella a small smile as she answered the door and Stella found herself grimacing at the pet name.

"Hi." She gave him a little smile back as he leaned in to kiss her. Automatically, she turned her face to the side so he caught her cheek and not her lips. He frowned a little as she stepped back to let him in and glanced at her for a moment, his eyes sliding downwards for a split second and Stella saw something flash on his face, but she couldn't quite place his expression. Without a word, he stepped into the apartment, following her to the living area. When she reached the couch she took a deep breath and opened her mouth to say something but he jumped in.

"Listen Stella, I’m so sorry. I was an ass, I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did and left you to go to the wedding alone."

"So you weren’t working then?" She shook her head as Evan let out a sigh. "I didn’t think so

Evan licked his lips and dropped his head a little. "No, I wasn’t. Like I said, I reacted like an ass. I shouldn’t have lied to you, I'm sorry."

"But you did and," Stella shrugged, "it doesn’t matter anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"It’s over, Evan."

Evan blinked, and then frowned a little. "Is this because of what I said the other night?"

Stella sighed. "In a way, yes, it is." She looked at him for a second as the hurt spread across his face before she took a deep breath and glanced down at her hands. She felt awful. Guilt was flooding her system, not only at the hurt on his face but the fact she'd done what she had. But she knew she had to stand strong. It wasn't fair on him, and it wasn't fair on her. "It caught me unawares and I didn’t know how to react," she looked up as she tried to explain, "I panicked but the truth is I didn’t say it back because I couldn’t Ev. I still can’t."

"Stel, look," Evan swallowed and took a step towards her, "I get it. You’ve been hurt in the past and you’re worried about how fast it’s going and, maybe you can’t say it yet, but you know, that doesn’t mean you don’t or you won’t."

"I thought it could be that way but I can’t lie to myself. Not anymore." She shook her head. "I don’t love you Evan. And I’m not sure I ever will."

Evan blinked, and in an instant the hurt on his face slid into something more akin to anger as his jaw set. He gave a scoff, shaking his head and gestured towards her with his right hand.

"You know, you’re never gonna be able to love anyone else whilst you’re still letting Jensen into your head and your bed." The slap his arm made as it swung back to his side rang loudly across the silent apartment as Stella felt her eyes widen.

"What? That’s not," she desperately tried to protest, even thought it was a blatant lie, "I haven’t-"

"No?" Evan gave a scoff. "The mark on your neck tells me a different story."

Stella felt the heat in her neck, she'd been well and truly caught out, and she felt like shit. She took a deep breath, deciding to come clean, he deserved that at least. "I’m sorry. I was drunk and it was a huge mistake. I shouldn’t have done it but that’s nothing to do with why I’m ending this."

Evan shook his head. "I should have come with you. Fuck!" He seethed. "I shouldn’t have left you alone with him."

"But you didn’t come, and I cheated on you." Stella remained calm. "I'm not proud of it, I've never done this to anyone before and I feel awful, I really do." She swallowed and sighed. "You’re a great guy, Evan, and you have to believe me when I say, what happened this weekend has nothing to do with why I’m... "

"Why you’re breaking up with me? Really, Stel? You expect me to believe that?"

Stella licked her lips and blinked back her tears. "It’s the truth. I’m sorry."

"For what exactly, Stella? For leading me on? For making me fall in love with you when you’re still clearly hooked on your ex? For cheating on me? And with him nonetheless!" Evan's voice gathered volume as he ranted, all the time his eyes boring into hers, "fuck Stel! After everything I did for you!"

Stella looked down, unable to meet his eyes as a tear fell down her cheek. "I wasn’t leading you on. I really did, I mean do like you I just," she looked up, "I can’t lie to you or to myself anymore. This isn’t right. And I think deep down you know that it ain’t gonna work."

“Of course it ain’t gonna work. Because you’re not putting any effort into it!"

"It shouldn’t have to be an effort, Ev." Stella responded, wetting her lips a little with her tongue. There was a moment of silence, before Evan scoffed.

"Whatever. If you're happy to keep being a way for that asshole to simply get his dick wet then that’s up to you. But I tell you something, he’ll hurt you again. And don’t come crying to me when he does."

Stella took a deep breath, trying to keep her emotions in check. "It’s not like that. At all. He’s not, I mean I’m not..." she trailed off and rubbed at her temple. "This has got nothing to do with him, Evan. I’m breaking it off because I don’t love you and I’m really sorry but I can’t lie to you."

"The only person you’re lying to is yourself, Stella." Evan shook his head. "I’ll see myself out."

He turned to leave, Stella remained rooted to the spot. She looked up at the ceiling, wiped her eyes and then turned to him as he opened the door.

"Evan, I really am sorry." She whispered and he stopped, taking a deep breath before he turned to look at her, his blue eyes wet with tears which made Stella feel about as low as she ever had.

"So am I."

With that the door slammed, leaving her stood alone in her apartment, deadly silence engulfing the room. Her legs gave way and she sank to the floor, her back pressed to the couch, tears pouring down her face.

“Fuck!” She yelled, throwing her head back against the couch. She felt like shit. She never wanted to hurt him, she really did like him and never set out for any of this to happen. She'd wanted to have a future, with someone else, but the sad thing was, Evan had hit the nail on the head. As long as Jake was in her life and her heart, she was never going to be able to be with anyone else.

Because, as much as she wished it wasn't true, she still loved him.

As she sat there, her head awash with a flood of feelings and doubts, her phone rang. Shifting a little, she pulled it from her pocket and saw her sister’s name flashing on the screen. Stella took a deep breath, contemplating simply letting it go to voicemail but she realised she really wanted to hear a friendly voice, and despite the fact they were very different people, she loved her sister and knew that Rey would always have her back. With a shaking hand she swiped to answer the call.

“Hey Stel, how was Mexico? I want all the goss about you and Evs first little break! Well, maybe not all the goss as that’s gross and TMI but-“

At that Stella let out the sob she had been trying to keep down and managed to stutter her sister’s name. Immediately, Rey’s tone flicked from its usual, bubbly nature to concerned.

“Woah, Stelly? What’s wrong? Has something happened?”

“Yeah. I just.... “ at that more tears came and her voice broke once more as she struggled to speak.

“You what, Stel? Are you ok?” Rey demanded. “Why are you crying Stel? Talk to me.”

Stella took a deep breath, fighting for control, eventually managing to find enough to stammer into the phone, “I broke up with Ev.”

“You did what?” Rey’s voice was nothing more than a hissed whisper, conveying her shock. “Why? Stel, are you out of your mind?”

At that Stella began crying even more. “I don’t know, maybe.” She wiped her face with the back of her sweater sleeve, giving a very undignified snort as she did so. “But I don’t love him Rey and...” She choked on her words, struggling for composure as her sister took a deep breath.

“You don’t love him? I don’t-“

“He told me he loved me and I couldn’t say it back. So I went to Mexico in my own and-“

Rey cut her off with a low groan. “Tell me you didn’t!” Stella’s loud sob was all the answer Rey needed. “Oh Stell!”

“I know, I know! But I was drunk and I felt lonely and mad at Ev and, it’s Jakey, Rey!”

“You still love him don’t you?” Rey’s voice was sympathetic, not a shred of frustration left. Stella swallowed, pressing the hell of her hand to her forehead in an attempt to relieve the pain that was starting to form from the force of her crying.

“I never stopped.” She stammered and Rey gave a heavy sigh.

“Shit, Stel.”

“Rey, I don’t know what to do.” Stella whispered, her voice trembling as she struggled for air, her throat felt tight and dry.

“Have you talked to him? To Jake I mean?”

“Sorta.” Stella gave another snort. “The morning after I mean, but I can’t face him. I can’t go there again Rey, I just-“

“And that’s fine, Stel, you don’t have to. Just avoid him until you clear your head. You can call me whenever you need to, I got you on this.” Her big sister placated, voice stern yet gentle. “And you got Clay there too. Talk to him if it’s too much, okay?”

Stella took a shaky breath. “Yeah. Yeah okay.” She wiped her eyes and her nose once more before she cleared her throat. “Listen, Rey, I’m gonna go get a bath. I’m exhausted.”

“Great idea, use some of that bath foam I made, it’s got lavender and rose hip in, perfect relaxation.”

Stella smiled. “Sounds like the perfect accompaniment to a large glass of red.”

Rey chuckled before she sighed. “Promise me you call me if you need me? No matter what time or when.”

“I will. Thanks Rey, oh, and don’t mention this to Mom. Not yet. I’ll tell her myself.”

“I won’t tell a soul.” Rey assured her.

“Thanks. I love you.”

“Love you too, sis.”

Stella cut the call, tossing the phone onto the coffee table before she hugged her knees to her chest, lending herself some comfort before he heaved herself off the floor and headed to the kitchen. She filled a wine glass full to the brim before she slurped a mouthful, wiping her tears once more before she made sure her door was locked, flicked off the lights and headed to the bathroom.

****

It was Thursday, four days after getting home, and Stella was sat outside on her small balcony, wrapped in a warm sweater in the April sun with a book and a coffee when there was a loud knock on her door. She hesitated for a moment, as it had to be someone who had access to the building and her mind immediately went to Jake, before she heard Clay's deep baritone.

"Stella, it's me. Open up."

It was a command, not a question, so she placed her book down on the table, picked up her mug and headed inside. She opened the door and turned away, leaving him to follow her, which he did, shutting the door behind him.

"You want at a coffee?" She asked, heading into the kitchen. "It's not long made."

"Sure." Clay nodded, and he stayed silent whilst Stella made herself a fresh cup, and one for Clay, knowing just how he took it, before she slid it over the counter and for the first time met his eyes.

"You look like shit. Guess this mystery illness really has wiped you out, huh?”

"Thanks, Franklin." She said sarcastically and Clay snorted. "I haven’t been sleeping well."

"Yeah, you definitely caught-" Clay raised his hands and bend his index and middle fingers on both, making quotation signs, "-the bug. It’s annoying, right?" Stella looked at him, blinking as he took a sip of his drink, knowing full well that he had well and truly sussed her out. "And impossible to cure from what I hear. Not even a slap gets rid of it."

Stella let out a soft groan. "Should have imagined you saw that."

"Stell, sweetheart, the entire party saw it." Clay eyed her. "Gotta say, your dad would be proud. It was one hell of a slap."

She scratched at her neck. "In my defense I was drunk and angry."

"Yeah, I know. I caught your apology to Pooch and Jolene the next day. Just before you rushed to the airport ignoring the rest of us."

"I needed to catch my flight." Stella's gaze dropped to the counter, both her hands cupping her mug.

"Before the bug caught you sneaking away from the resort, huh?"

"Something like that." She sighed and took a sip of her coffee.

"So what you gonna do?" Clay asked, placing his mug down. "About your condition, I mean."

Stella shrugged, bowing her head. "That’s the worst bit, Clay. I can’t do anything can I? I couldn’t even be happy with someone else."

"You speaking about Evan in the past tense now?" Clay cocked his head and Stella swallowed.

"I ended it on Sunday."

"Well, I'm not gonna lie and tell you I’m sorry, Stella." Clay shrugged a little and Stella's mouth curled up inot a sad little smile.

"I don’t expect you to."

"You know as well as I do there was something off about that guy." Clay continued and Stella gave a little groan.

"Can we not? There was, is, nothing wrong with Evan. This is down to me and my inability to get some dickhead who dumped me years ago outta my head."

"And out of your bed from what I’ve heard." Clay eyed her shrewdly and Stella stilled, looking at him for a moment before she licked her lips.

"How do you know about that?"

"Practically everyone knew by breakfast." Clay gave her a sympathetic smile. "Turns out one spiteful, red-headed bridesmaid was on your floor too and you weren’t exactly quiet when you were shouting down the hall."

Stella groaned.

"Hell hath no fury, Arty." Clay's eyes twinkled with humour and Stella rolled her eyes.

"It’s complicated, Clay and I can’t face Jake. Not yet. Not like this." She signalled to her congested face and red eyes and Clay took a deep breath, his face sympathetic.

"He’s been worried sick. Says you’re ignoring him."

"Huh, maybe he isn’t as stupid as he looks." Stella shrugged and Clay gave a snort.

"Despite what we all say, he isn’t an idiot. He knows he fucked up. Again."

"It wasn’t just him. We both... well, I wasn’t exactly unwilling." Stell licked her lips as she shrugged. "And as much as I want to say I hated it..." She trailed off, her finger gliding around the rim of her mug. "But it just made everything worse."

"Well, one thing I can tell you is that sitting in here, hiding away isn't going to help." Clay spoke gently, and as Stella opened her mouth to protest he cut her off, holding his hand up. "He's not here. He shipped out with Cougs to support a specialist recruitment exercise at Fort Sill this morning."

"How long is he gone?" Stell asked, her voice quiet.

"He’s back Friday." Clay smiled. "Look, why don’t you take a few days off and go home. You could use some family time right now."

"We just got back from a few days away."

"Yeah, and you've been here, hiding so what difference does it make if you hide in New Hampshire? Besides, you're no use to me like this." Stella took a deep breath as Clay continued. "How long since you saw your mom or Rey?"

"Bout six weeks."

"Then go." Clay persisted. "It's not like you have anything pressing here to do, if we need you then I’ll send for you."

"Thanks, Clay." Stella smiled. "

*****

“What do you mean she’s gone home?” Jensen frowned as Clay looked at him, having just finished explaining to the pair of them where Stella was.

“Well, you know her home in New Hampshire?”

“Yeah?”

“She’s gone there.”

Cougar snorted and Jensen let out a low groan of frustration. He was tired and had just gotten back from a long, hard slog away from home to be greeted by this and he wasn’t in the mood for Clay’s sarcasm.

“When is she coming back?” He demanded, staring at his boss who shrugged.

“I don’t know if she is, Jensen.”

At that Jensen blinked. Was Clay seriously suggesting Stel had quit for good? “What? I don’t-why?”

“Why do you think?” For the first time since Jensen had started speaking, Clay’s frustration was evident in his tone. “After your bunk up in Mexico she finished with Evan and she’s cut up, big time.”

Jensen took a deep breath, as the flood of relief he expected to hear once he’d got that news never came. Instead, he felt nothing but a deep sense of guilt at the fact Stella was upset. And he was part of the cause of that.

“She’s hurting Jake, and I think this time it’s just gotten too much.” Clay finished, his voice a little less spiked than it had been. Jensen ran his hand through his hair, before he shook his head.

“Fuck.”

“Jensen, why don’t you call her?” Cougar looked at him and Jake rolled his eyes.

“You know I tried that, several times. She won’t answer my calls or messages.”

“And you’re gonna let that stop you?” Clay folded his arms across his chest and raised his brow. “What happened to fighting for your girl, Jensen?”

Jensen blinked, his eyes not leaving Clay as his words sunk in. He was right, he had to try and fix this.

“I need to go.” He mumbled before he turned and bolted from the office, a loud apology hitting their ears along with a shout from someone else he had clearly run into in his haste to leave.

There was a pause as both men simply stared at the open door, before Cougar broke the silence. “She’s coming back, right?”

“She didn’t say she wasn’t.” Clay nodded.

“So why did you make out to Jensen like she was done?” Cougar looked at Clay who simply smirked as he turned his head towards him.

“Why do you think?”

****

Less than ten minutes after leaving the office, Jake was in his car speeding down the freeway. With one hand he juggled his phone, pressing the button to call the one person he knew would help him.

“I’m coming home.” He blurted into the handset as soon as his call was answered and Jane gave a little scoff.

“I thought you might be.” Her voice was flat. “Rey called me last night on her way to pick Stel up, told me all about your hook up in Mexico. What the hell were you playing at, Jake!”

“Yeah, I know, I fucked up and I need to make it right. I’m on my way to the airport, I’ll be on the next flight into Logan that I can get and I need you to pick me up.”

There was a pause and Jane sighed. “Leave it with me, I’ll get online and see if I can book one for you.”

“Thanks.” He mumbled before he tossed his phone onto the passenger seat and pushed his foot down on the gas, hanging the exit that would connect him onto the road for DC and the Airport.

Jane called back ten minutes later saying there was a flight an hour or so later which he was on. He arrived twenty or so minutes later and parked in the first space he could find on the long stay car park. As he climbed out, he grabbed his wallet, phone and jacket and debated taking his kit bag but, deciding it would slow him down waiting through security, he left it and set off at a sprint to the departure area.

Thankfully, Military ID gives you certain privileges if you can sweet talk, and Jensen could sweet talk with the best of them, so he managed to skip most of the queues and made it to the gate as the last few people were boarding.

Whilst the flight was only an hour and fifteen, it was an hour and fifteen too long and he was restless for all of it. His leg was continually twitching, his hand running repeatedly through his hair and scratching the short layer of stubble that covered his chin and cheeks. He was aware that he was annoying the elderly woman sitting next to him as he could feel her glaring at him and in an attempt to keep his annoying, nervous little ticks to himself, he tried to read the paper that was in the seat pocket in front of him. But it was pointless, he’d been on the same article for twenty minutes, repeatedly losing his place as his thoughts strayed to Stella, so with a huff he folded it back up and leaned back, closing his eyes.

Whilst sleeping on transport wasn’t normally a problem, being in the Army you learnt to sleep when you could, it totally evaded him and he felt like crying in relief when the pilot announced their descent into Logan. As soon as their wheels were down, he attracted the attention of one of the attendants and begged her to let him off the flight first, citing a military emergency, once more flashing his ID. Five minutes later she returned, smiling at him.

“Follow me, Captain Jensen.”

With a relieved sigh he stood up, grabbing his jacket from the overhead locker and followed her to the door which was just opening into the tunnel.

“Thanks,” he nodded at her as the door was latched into place, “by the way, I love your dress.”

He set off at a sprint through the airport. More abuse of his military privileges saw him clear security in record time and he hurried into the arrivals lounge where he saw Jane waiting for him.

“You have no bag?” She frowned as he gave her a quick hug.

“I didn’t have time.” He shrugged and Jane rolled her eyes.

“From what Rey told me, Stella is gonna be here till next week...”

“Yeah but you booked me a flight I had like an hour to catch...”

“Because you said there was a mad panic!”

“And there is.” Jensen shrugged as they began to walk towards the exit. “Like I said, I need to speak to her.”

“So, what is your plan today?” Rey smirked at him a little as they headed over to the car park.

Jake swallowed. He’d spent the last few hours trying to come up with a plan of sorts and had failed, miserable, so there was only one option. “I’m just gonna tell her I’m sorry and how I feel about her, honestly.” He shrugged as they strode through the rows of parked cars. “She might listen, she might not but I can’t leave it how it was. I gotta try, Jane.”

“Yeah I know Jake.” Jane stopped at her car. “But have you ever thought you can’t always have what you want when you want it and how you want it? It’s always been like that little bro and she’s not a skateboard or a football, she’s a person.”

“I know she’s a person, Jane! But I have to tell her, if she doesn’t wanna listen then-“ he shrugged as Jane unlocked her car, “-at least I’ll know.”

“Well, good luck, you’re gonna need because, according to Rey she is really bad.” Jane climbed into the driver’s seat and Jensen dropped heavily into the passenger one. “Oh, and you might wanna avoid Rey.”

Jake scoffed as Jane reversed the car out of the space. “Rey doesn’t scare me.”

“No?” Jane threw him a look as she drove towards the barrier.

“Nope.” He sniffed, pausing. “She terrifies me.”

Between not wanting to disturb his parents and also being unable to face the inevitable lecture about his behaviour from his dad, at least not until he’d spoken to Stella, Jane suggested he stayed with them. So, Forty-five minutes later, they arrived at Jane’s home, Gracie barrelling out of the house to greet her uncle. He swung her up, giving her a huge cuddle as she began to chat to him about her school and soccer. Jensen tried to listen and pay attention, but his mind was whirring about how he was going to get Stella to meet him. As he walked into the kitchen, Rob handed him a beer and clapped his shoulder as he sank into a chair round the table, letting out a sigh.

After he’d had something to eat and a shower, borrowing some of Robert’s clothes he tried again to reach Stel but to no avail, her phone remained switched off. And this was how it went for the next twenty four hours or so. He also tried the landline but it was always Jules who picked up and he couldn’t face speaking to her either so each time he simply hung up like some huge big cowardly chicken.

So, as a last resort, he begged Jane to help him, something Rob urged her to do too, although his reasons were slightly more selfish- he was simply annoyed that Jake was wearing his clothes and drinking his beer and being a general pain in the ass.

“Okay, okay, just,” Jane bit her lip, “let me talk to Rey, see if I can figure something out.”

She grabbed her phone and left the room, Jensen’s focus remained on the door as he could hear her softly speaking outside, but not enough to make out her words. When she came back a few minutes later she took a deep breath and looked at him.

“Rey’s taken Stella shopping to pick up Julie’s birthday gift. On the way back she’s gonna detour and head to the little cafe in their village, just off the main road through. You need to be there at five.”

Jensen gave a sigh of relief as he stood up and hugged his sister. “I owe you big time.”

“Yeah, well, just don’t be surprised if Rey punches you in the face.” Jane looked at him and Jensen took a deep breath, giving a little shrug as he walked towards the door.

“Be worth it if I can get Stella to listen to me.”

****

“Don’t fuck this up, it’s Stel ok?”

“I know. I know. Look, I’ll call you later, once…” he paused to take a deep breath, “well, once I’ve talked to her.”

Jane smiled at her brother sympathetically and reached over to kiss his cheek, giving him a hug. “Good luck, bro.”

“Thanks,” Jensen voice came out almost as a whisper, “I’m gonna need it, sis.” Taking another deep breath, he got out of the car, gathering what little courage still remained in some forsaken part of his nervous system. “Go Petunias!”

He instinctively pulled the collar of his waterproof North Face jacket round his neck against the rain and started walking with determination to the brightly lit coffee shop at the other side of the street. He jogged to avoid a passing car and soon he was crossing the threshold and being engulfed by the warm atmosphere of the place. He didn’t have to scan the room much before he spotted both Stevenson siblings sat at one of the far corner tables and he made a mental note to thank Rey for having made Stella sit with her back to the door.

Jensen breathed in and walked a couple of steps more into the shop to catch Rey’s attention and a wave of excitement washed his body when he saw her get up and say something to Stella before heading as if she was going to the counter but after turning to check her sister wasn’t looking at her she walked to him and grabbed his arm as she passed.

“You’re lucky I’m not shoving your head up your fucking ass.” Rey hissed only for him to hear.

“Nice to see you too Rey.” He smiled at the woman nervously.

“Fuck you, Jake.” Rey spoke again through gritted teeth.

“You flirting with me, Rey? ‘Coz-”

But Jensen didn’t finish whatever stupid quip his mind had come up with as Rey scoffed and left. He watched her go, and when he saw her picking her coat from the rack next to the main door he sighed.

Good start, Jensen.

In an attempt to placate his nerves, Jensen ran his hand through his damp hair and headed to Stella’s table, his nostrils registering the smell of freshly brewed coffee and sugary treats for the first time since he had stepped foot on the place.

Stella, who was checking the messages on her phone, looked up as she sensed the presence of what she thought was her sister but, much to her surprise, it was Jake Jensen she was looking straight at as he sat down on the chair in front of her.

“Hey Stel.”

“Jake.” She whispered, gasping a little with shock. “What are you doing here?”

“Clay told me you’d come home and I had to talk to you.”

Stella rolled her eyes and was about to protest when the waitress came over with the drinks Rey and her had ordered and, after placing the hot cocoa mug in front of Stella, she looked at Jake confused.

“Oh it’s okay that’s mine thanks.” Jensen said as he nodded. The waitress simply shrugged and placed the coffee mug down before leaving

“Don’t suppose there’s any point me asking how you knew I’d be here.” Stella asked, her arms crossed over her chest as she watched Jake spooning sugar into his drink. Jensen just shrugged as he kept on stirring his coffee, thinking it was a good thing she hadn’t run away the moment she had seen him. “Imma kill Rey.” She grumbled.

“You wouldn’t answer your phone.” Jensen offered, trying to keep it as simple and cool as possible.

“Maybe you should take a hint.” Stella sighed, knowing too well Jake Jensen had never been one for taking hints.

“Stel, why you being like this?” Jake frowned. “We didn’t leave it on a bad note after Mexico, I know you said it was a mistake but…”

Stella sighed again and looked down at her drink, not taking her eyes away from the random pattern of cinnamon sprinkles over the whipped cream. “I just need some headspace.” Her tone was a little softer than before, the surprise and anger at her sister setting her up slowly sweeping away. “That’s all, and you being here…”

She didn’t finish her sentence, instead she gripped her mug and took a drink and once she did she looked up to him for the very first time since she had started speaking only to realize Jensen was watching her, but his eyes weren’t looking straight at hers, they were fixed on something else.

“What?” She asked, varying between curious and concerned.

“Your ring.”

Well she hadn’t been expecting that. She cleared her throat and hesitated a little before asking. “What about it?”

“You had it in Mexico. Why are you suddenly wearing it again? You took it off months ago, when you started seeing Evan.” Jensen inquired, his eyes now effectively meeting Stella’s and he saw the surprise in her expression. “Yeah, I noticed Stel.”

“I actually stopped wearing it the day you dumped me for the second time.” She shot back and Jensen flinched at her tone. Her softness had disappeared and she was being snappy again. He only hoped she didn’t clam up before he could get his point made.

“I didn’t dump you, we were…” He sighed. That path wouldn’t lead him anywhere with Stel, so he decided to take a detour, see where it led. “You haven’t answered my question.”

Stella gave a little shake of her head. “Don’t read anything into it. I’m wearing it because I want to.”

“But, why?” He pressed again.

“I saw it in my jewellery box the day I was going to Mexico when I was looking for some earrings.” She shrugged as she explained herself. “It’s a nice ring.”

Jensen didn’t say anything. Satisfied as he was with Stella’s reasoning, he gave her a knowing smirk.

“Don’t smirk at me like that Jake.” She warned him as she narrowed her eyes.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” Jensen placated her before taking another sip of his coffee. “Clay told me you had ended it with Evan.”

“Yeah I bet you’re loving it.” Stella scoffed.

Jake frowned at her accusation. “No.” He shook his head. “I could never be glad you’re hurting.”

“And whose fault is that?” She glared at him.

“Are you saying it’s mine?” Jake blurted out, leaning his forearms on the table. “Look, the morning after we... you know, you told me you were splitting up with Evan and it was nothing to do with us sleeping together.”

“You’re right, I was!” Stella raised her voice, attracting the attention of the two women at the table next to theirs. “But that wasn’t an excuse for me to go and simply jump back into bed with you!” She hissed. “God, I’m so weak. Why did I give in to you?”

“I didn’t force you into bed, Stella!” Jake protested, visibly hurt.

“I never said that.” She shook her head, but avoided his stare.

“Well it kinda sounded like that’s what you were saying.” Jensen shook his head and leaned back on his chair. “You know, you can deny it all you want but that night was good, and I know you felt it too otherwise you wouldn’t be here so upset and accusing me of being the reason you’re hurt.”

Stella stayed silent. The confidence in Jake’s voice left no room for her denying it, there was no point, so she just looked away.

“Why have you got such a problem admitting there’s still something there between us?” Jake broke her silence.

“I’m not admitting shit, Jake. You can go now, back the way you came.” She shrugged, hoping her voice sounded as confident as Jensen’s.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He shook his head before taking another sip from his drink.

“I think you should.”

“Okay,” Jake placed his coffee mug down again, “you look me in the eye and say you feel nothing for me at all and I’ll go.”

“Piss off, Jake!”

“Not until you tell me.” Jensen challenged her as he crossed his arms over his chest. Maybe he was pushing too much, but he had to try.

“Don’t tell me what to do Jacob. You don’t wanna go? Fine!” Stella shrugged as she got up and grabbed her purse which was hanging from her chair headrest. When Jensen finally registered what was happening he called after her but Stella just ignored him and left the coffee shop after taking her coat from the rack. Sighing with exasperation, Jake stood up and tossed some money down on the table before jogging after her.

The drizzle that was falling when he had first arrived had now turning into a real downpour. The cold air and heavy rain hit Jensen’s face when he stepped out and he needed a few seconds to spot Stella who was walking up the street under the rain, her wool coat failing to stop her from getting increasingly soaked. Jensen started jogging towards her as the same time he cursed himself for not having an umbrella with him.

“Stel.” He panted as he grabbed her arm.

“Don’t touch me!” She snapped, freeing herself from Jake’s grip.

He sighed but looked at her with determination. “You just can’t say it, can you?” But Stella wasn’t giving in and kept silent, staring back at him and after a few too many seconds Jensen had no option but to give up so he looked down and then back up, tears already brimming in his eyes. “My mistake. I’ll, erm, I’ll leave you alone.”

Stella watched, as he turned to go, his shoulders slumping before something inside her cracked, driven completely by the fact he looked and sounded so damned broken.

“Wait!” Stella pleaded, and he stopped, turning to face her as she took a deep breath, looking upwards before she shook her head. “I…damned, fine, I love you, okay. Is that what you wanna hear?” She snigged and shook her head. “I love you Jake but that doesn’t mean shit. I’m tired of hurting.”

“Me too Stel!” Jensen blurted out, his voice cracking. “Jesus, I hurt every dammed day when I saw you with that prick, because I only had myself to blame. I’m a fucking idiot and I get now, my reasons, you know I thought I was doing the right thing, that it would save us both so much heartache but all it did was cause us so much more.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Stella frowned at his sudden ramble. “You were doing the right thing? What kind of shit excuse is that? The right thing for what?”

“For you! I saw it in your eyes, the day we found out our postings and we were gonna be split up because we weren’t married!” Jensen tried to explain himself as the tears began to fall from Stella’s eyes. “The hurt and fear in those beautiful eyes, Stel and all I could think about was how worse it would be if something happened and,” he sighed as his eyes silently pleaded with her to show some sign his words were getting to her and when he spoke again, his voice was softer than ever. “I thought by ending it, then it would mean we could both move on and if something happened then you wouldn’t have to go through the amount of pain your mom did when she lost your dad.”

“Don’t you think I had the right to make that decision myself?” Stella practically shrieked at him, her chest heaving. “God, you’re a fucking asshole Jacob Jensen.” She sniffed and made a pause to rub her nose and wipe the tears and raindrops that were falling down her cheeks. “What the fuck? I’ve spent the last fucking five years of my life wondering what the fuck happened, trying to find a reason why you suddenly didn’t love me!”

“Stel, I never stopped loving you!” Jensen yelled back, before he took a deep breath and shook his head. “How could I? I’ve been in love with you since we were eleven.” He moved closer to her, trying to hold her hands in his.

“You have a strange way of showing it!” She screamed back, moving her hands to dodge him.

“I know, I know. I don’t have anything else to say other than I’m so sorry. And I love you.” He choked out. “I always will.”

Stella sighed, tears still running down her face. She was exhausted and tired of listening to him apologize over and over again. “All right, you’re sorry. So what? Apology accepted. Feeling better? You can go back to Virginia now.”

“If that’s what you want.” Jake said so softly Stella almost missed it as he put his hands in his coat pockets.

“Why suddenly it is what I want that matters, Jake?” She railed at him once more. “It’s always been about you and your stupid ideas and your stupid needs!”

“What do you want me to say, Stel?” He pleaded, his voice was beginning to break again. And, as Stella looked at him, his face suddenly illuminated by the headlights of a passing car, she realised that she had never seen him so vulnerable before.

“I don’t want you to say anything, Jake.” She swallowed hard, shaking her head. “I just want you to make up your mind once and for all and stop fucking with my brain.”

“Make up my mind?” Jake scoffed. “Have you listened to a word I just said?” He stepped forward a little. “You know what I want.”

Stella shuddered under his stare at those last words before muttering. “No, I don’t.”

“You! I want you.” He blurted out, his eyes never leaving hers. “Give me another chance baby. I swear, I’ll make you happy, I’ll do anything.”

“Jake…” Stella’s voice was a strangled whisper as she shook her head and Jensen sighed.

“What is it that is making you hold back?” He pressed, rain dripping off his hair down his face.

At that, she swallowed. “I’m scared.”

“Scared of what? Talk to me, Stelly.”

“Of being broken again, Jake. Because I don’t think I can fix myself again.” Stella blinked as the raindrops gathered on her eyelashes.

“You won’t have to.” Jake was fast to assure her. “I promise you that much. Just let me show you I can be the man you need, the man you deserve.”

“You promised me before you’d always be there Jake.” Stella started sobbing again. “And you left me.”

“I know, I know baby and I blame myself every day for that I... I just need you to trust me. I love you, I love you so fucking much, Stelly I can’t even think of you not being around.” His voice cracked completely on the last word and he sniffed loudly, his shoulders shuddering as he took a deep breath.

And, suddenly Stella’s defences, those defences she had fought so much to keep up, were nothing more than paper, paper that was disintegrating after being soaked by the rapidly falling drops of both her tears and the rain. Before she could draw in the air her body needed, she fell forward into Jake’s arms, melting into his form as she sobbed, her face pressing into the cold, wet outer layers of his clothing.

Jensen’s hands folded around her back, drawing her in closer and she could feel her body shake. “Stelly, shh, don’t cry baby,” he managed a whispered choke as she clung to him for dear life, “everything is gonna be all right. You’ll see.”

And as she continued to cry, Jensen simply held her, rocking her gently from side to side as he pressed a kiss to her wet hair before he pulled back, his hands cupping her face as he swiped under her eyes with his thumbs, the tenderness of the action more than Stella’s heart could hold.

“Please Stelly. Just give me this, ‘coz I don’t know what I’m gonna do if you don’t.”

As a response to his plea, Stella leaned into his hand, kissing his palm. “I never wanted you to leave in the first place.” She whispered and turned her eyes to his, to see a soft smile spreading across his face.

Jake swallowed, trying to find his voice. He wanted to speak, he wanted to speak real bad, because, God, there were so many things he wanted to tell her, so many built up wants and needs from over the years they were apart. But he couldn’t form anything more than her name. “Stel,” and, before he could attempt anything else, she reached up and grabbed his face tenderly before kissing him, softly.

The rain ran down their faces to where their lips met, each of them tasting the cold drops, but instead of detracting from the intensity of the moment, it simply took them to new heights. As Stella pushed her lips in more firmly, the wave that ran through her was intoxicating, a connection that showed the strength of the feeling, the mutual need. She paid no attention to the water which was soaking them through to chill their skin, because the sheer burst of love they were sharing was more than enough to keep her warm.

Nature might have brought the rain but Jake’s inner sunshine always came through for her in the end.

As Jake kissed the droplets from her mouth, she felt his lips smile against hers, making her head swim as she pulled back to take in his beautiful face and he was beaming at her.

“This is it, Jake. You fuck this up and I’m out of your life for good. In every way.” She declared with a sniff, but the warning felt less of a warning to Jake as she was smiling at him as she clung to his neck.

“Not gonna happen.” He smiled back. “We’re gonna do great and we’re gonna get married and make gorgeous babies.”

“You’re a fucking moron.” She snorted.

“Yeah.” He shrugged casually before tightening his grip on her and leaning in for another kiss, but it was cut short this time by Jake’s stomach growling, making Stella pull back and arch her brow at him.

“I haven’t eaten all day.” He offered as explanation.

She chuckled and then gave him a big grin. “Wanna stop at the Schwarma stand on the corner of Ruby Ave?”

“Yes.” He groaned more than agreed. Stella smiled as Jake placed his arm round her, pulling her close to kiss her head as they set off. The gesture once so familiar to them that it filled them with the warmth that the merciless rain was denying them. “Hey, does this count as a date?” He quipped.

“Don’t push it, Jake.” Stella groaned as she jabbed at his ribs.

****

“What the hell have you two been up to?” Julie’s loud voice rang out and the pair of them stopped dead as they walked into the kitchen from the Mud Room, looking at her as she stood, her arms folded, leaning against the counter, wearing her best stern mom expression. “The pair of you are soaked!”

“Yeah, it’s raining.” Jensen nodded and Julie narrowed her eyes.

“Don’t get clever with me, Jacob. You’re not too big that I won’t give you a slap.”

He flashed her his best, cheeky smile and she rolled her eyes, her attention flicking to Stella before she frowned a little, her gaze then moving to their hands which were tangled together. She blinked, and then her face softened and she gave Stella a fond smile.

“You guys good?”

They looked at each other and Stella smiled, turning back to her mom. “Yeah. Yeah we are. But, erm, we should probably go get into some dry clothes.”

“There’s some sweats and a T-shirt in your room Stel, I think they’re Jake’s.” Julie smiled. “Drop your soaked things outside the bathroom and I’ll run them through the wash and drier.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Stella grinned as Jake let out a little noise of approval.

“Jules, you’re awesome.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She rolled her eyes but the smile never left her face. “Go on. I’ll fix you both some dinner.”

“It’s ok, we already ate so I think we’re just gonna...” She trailed off as Jake gently squeezed her hand and Julie nodded.

“Okay, well I guess I’ll see you in the morning?”

Stella dropped her head, shyly as Jake grinned. “Yeah, Jules. Have a good night.”

Thirty or so minutes later they were both warm, dry and settled in bed, Jake in the pair of grey sweatpants that had indeed belonged to him. As Stella snuggled up to him, he pressed a kiss to her head realising that it had been years since they’d done this, just been together, as a couple. He felt her shift a little next to him and he glanced down to see her blinking as she struggled to stay awake. Jake could tell she was exhausted and whilst he wanted nothing more than to get her on her back and love her the best way he could, he knew how tired she was, both physically and mentally. It had been an emotional day, hell, week even, and there was a lot to process. So instead he shifted a little so he was led on his side facing her, and drew her in for another soft, deep kiss, his thumb gently stroking her cheek bone as she sighed happily, his lips slowly and sensually caressing hers.

“Do you remember the first time we shared a bed, Stelly?” Jake grinned as he pulled away, tucking her hair behind her ear.

She snorted. “Summer camp when we were thirteen. I could feel a storm brewing, so I came to your tent.”

“And we got caught so your mom came to ours,” Jake grinned as she gave a chuckle, “sat with mine around the kitchen table, giving us both ‘the talk’. Good times.”

“I remember how it grossed the pair of us out.” Stella giggled. “You pointed out that Rey and Jane would share a bed when they stayed over with each other and your dad was protesting that it was different because they were just friends.”

“So were we at that point.” Jensen mused as Stella’s hand traced his bicep.

“Yeah that’s what you said. And then you pointed out that they might have been lesbians so his argument was invalid.”

Jensen snorted. “He was being platonaphobic, and of course when I told him so, he had no idea what it meant.”

“No one did because it was a word you just made up!” Stella laughed and Jake shrugged.

“It means you’re biased against platonic relationships.” He grinned before he took a deep breath. “Truth is, Stelly, there was nothing platonic on my side even then. I wanted you from the day I saw you.”

“You were eleven, Jake!” Stella shook her head.

“Just be glad it wasn’t until I was fourteen that I started getting boners over you.”

“You’re disgusting.” She rolled her eyes and Jensen pouted.

“Hey, don’t complain. You were in all my fantasies”

“That’s a back handed compliment.” She shook her head and Jensen flashed her a cheeky wink.

“It’s the palm of my hand that remembers.”

At that she slapped his arm and he laughed, pulling her closer to him as she nestled into his warmth, the top of her head tucked under his chin.

And that was exactly how she fell asleep a few minutes later. Jake felt her relax against him completely, and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head before he too drifted under, happy and satisfied that he was holding his girl in his arms, right where she belonged.

**** Chapter 8

#too loose and you'll lose it #jake jensen #jake jensen x ofc #jake jensen x original female character #the losers #the losers fan fiction #chris evans #chris evans characters

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Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #14

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Santa Invasion

“What’s this?”

“Ice cream.”

“Well, I can tell that much just by looking, but...”

“To be precise, it is an ice cream cake.”

A gigantic ladybug was sitting on the low table. Its vivid red and dark brown-like black shades were definitely berries and chocolate. The back was decorated with flowers like marguerite. It was adorable. And huge. It was a hemispherical cake that looked like a basket ball cut in half, the name of a store from Dogenzaka printed on its box. It was 7PM. The last customer had left, I was done with the cleaning and all we had left to do was closing the store. It was still the second week of December, so the mayhem of making provisions for winter presents was a few ways ahead, but the number of clients was increasing little by little.

Just what on earth would this beautiful jeweler come up in such times?

Due to a habit of his from whenever he had something that was hard to say aloud and thus failed to speak up, Mr. Richard Ranashinghe de Vulpian had a serious crease forming just slightly between his brows. It made me feel at ease. This guy didn’t make a face like this when he was burdened with something that was actually difficult to say. He would speak more bland and expressionlessly instead.

“This is a little souvenir.”

“Are you going to a customer’s place after this?”

Richard’s reply was a gentle “no” in English.

He’d been often speaking a mix of Japanese and English lately. When English-speaking customers came by, he would switch completely to English as if for practical assessment, so I was desperate just to keep up with listening to them. I was grateful for having him as my English conversation teacher.

“A certain good-for-nothing who works with finances is currently in Japan, so...”

“Ah, Jeffrey-san, is it? He seemed so busy last time... Sorry, forget what I just said.”

“No need. That is a correct interpretation, so it is nothing to apologize about.”

Despite saying this, Richard’s facial expression did not seem even remotely satisfied as he swiftly took an indigo envelope out of his pocket. It had no seal, so it must have been handed over to him. The content was a pop-out card, and under a paper-craft cake colored with gold leaves and uneven printing, it was written in very tasteful Japanese: “I’m going to hold a party at the hotel, so come over. I’ll be waiting.” The date of the party was today and the place was the room of a luxury hotel in Tokyo. A home party? No, a hotel party.

The title was “Richard’s birthday party”. The plate of the pop-up cake didn’t say “Merry Christmas”. It said “Happy Birthday”.

Christmas Eve on the 24th was this beautiful shopkeeper’s birthday.

As I returned the card to him, a crease once again formed between Richard’s brows as he said with an unsparingly decisive tone, “How very embarrassing.”

“Doesn’t seem so much like it from your face.”

“Because I practiced making it. But this is extremely embarrassing. I think it is not something that warrants going through the trouble of arranging a plane ticket.”

“I wonder if anyone else will be going.”

“It seems Chieko will attend. I received an e-mail yesterday saying, ‘I am going to show up as a surprise so please take care of me’.”

“Is that even a surprise? Well, okay.”

Chieko-san was Richard and Jeffrey’s private tutor in the past and I was acquainted with her to some degree. I wondered if Homura-san, who had married her daughter, was also coming. No, not happening. He was a customer of Etranger, so Richard would probably feel abashed if he did so.

“If it goes on like this, the people lying in wait in that room will just gang up into an assembly to celebrate me.”

“What even is ‘ganging up to celebrate’?”

“They are ganging up on me. I likely will not be able to say anything other than ‘thank you very much’. I need reinforcements. If you would like, could you come with me?”

“Me too? That okay?”

“Of course. The party starts at 8PM probably because it coincides with Etranger’s closing hours. That British safe-like man is not narrow-minded enough to leave you out.”

It was written there that the party would begin at 8PM. We had 30 minutes. There was no spare time to make a pudding. What to do? What should I do?

Richard was apparently unable to let my groaning an “ngh, ngh” while deep in thought go unnoticed. “If it is impossible for you, just say so right away. I know that you are at the final stage of studying for your exams.”

“That doesn’t matter. Why didn’t you tell me a bit earlier about this? If I knew, I could’ve made preparations for it... Aah, is that why?”

“It is. I recall saying that you should refrain from being overly distracted.”

“I don’t think a ‘celebration’ is ‘overly distracting’, though.”

“Anything is fine, so please answer. Will you come or not?”

He didn’t have to go as far as asking me something like that.

I bowed in a way that wouldn’t cause any hairs to fall onto the ice cream ladybug. “I shall humbly accompany you.”

“Very well.”

“Sorry, but before that, I gotta go to the toilet for a bit.”

I hastily rushed to Etranger’s restroom and unlocked my phone in a flash. I then tapped on the e-mail app. Of course, the destination could only be one person.

“Help. I’m sorry but I just got informed about the birthday party, so I have no present.”

Jeffrey-san.

The contents of the message were not at all on a level that someone should send to the person they owed their life to, but he would understand.

The reply came in a matter of seconds. As expected, he worked fast.

“Good evening. I have everything, so there’s no problem if you come empty-handed. There will be champagne, canapés, chicken pie and cake, and I plan to have chocolate fondue coming up at the end.”

There was a proud smiley emoji at the end of the text. It seemed this was going to be a big deal.

Richard would probably have work tomorrow, and he wasn’t the type to get wasted or stuff his face with sweets in the middle of the night. It seemed I also wouldn’t have to worry about dinner. It made me feel sorry. This was the same old pattern. This course of eating and seeing good stuff amidst the confusion of the moment made my stomach hurt when I thought better about it.

“Don’t you know anything that Richard wanted?”

The response came after a moment, “My bad, but nothing comes to mind. How about you give him what you want most?”

What I wanted most. I could only think of refill shampoo and new socks. I’d be ashamed of giving things like that to Richard. After all, this was a mixture of birthday and Christmas party—

Just as I was thinking this, a genius inspiration sprouted in my head. It wasn’t the best solution. Not at all. But I felt it could work. This was too obvious, but if only I had the necessary materials for it, I could do it immediately.

Making up my mind, I came out of the restroom, apologized for making Richard wait, and as we rode to the designated address on the jaguar, I had him stop the car in front of a mass retailer for a moment. I told him I wanted to buy refill shampoo for my home. Richard was exasperated, but didn’t have any suspicions in particular.

We arrived at the hotel, got into the elevator, and on the way to the party venue, I made sure to walk a bit behind Richard. Staying out of his sight was essential.

When he opened the door to the suite, sure enough, Jeffrey-san and Chieko-san were waiting inside. Giving off a relaxed atmosphere, a room-service feast even bigger than what I had imagined from the phone call was waiting on the table for the main guest.

“Happy birthday, Richard. Chieko’s here too. Surprised?”

“Of course. Very surprised. Extremely.”

“Hmm, by the looks of it, I guess there was some information leak. Well, that’s okay! Where’s Nakata-kun?”

“What do you mean ‘where’? He’s right here. Seigi... Seigi?”

My eyes locked with Richard’s. I had locked them with Jeffrey-san’s before that. I was grateful that he had done me the favor of not laughing.

I politely shook my head at my boss, who was making a flabbergasted face. “My name is Santa.”

What I had bought at the mass retailer was a handy Santa makeover set. The three-piece set consisted of a hat, a put-on beard and a Santa costume, but I hadn’t had time to change into the costume, so it was folded up in my bag. I intended to borrow the suite’s bathroom to put on the costume. If I at least had my face ready, I could somehow make it work.

Richard was dumbfounded. It was the obvious reaction. But I wanted him to forgive me for this. After all, it was December and today was a party day.

“I’m Santa Claus! I came from the North Pole. Please take care of me for today!” After introducing myself, I thought that maybe this wasn’t an exemplary self-introduction for Santa, but it was already too late.

Jeffrey-san, who completely livened up the mood whenever he got excited, went along with the joke, saying, “Wah, Santa-san, thank you for coming from such a faraway place!”

I was grateful for that one. And that was how I got away with playing the role of a worldwide mascot-like old man character from the Arctic for the day. The ice cream cake brought by the star of the party was a success, and we had a toast with both champagne and royal milk tea. Chieko-san was wearing a kimono, the remade peridot brooch on her chest.

It had already been more than half a year since then, but to my body, it felt like even longer ago.

My location had moved from Japan to Sri Lanka, as one would expect, and I was busy fully enjoying a spring in which white temple flowers were blooming in Kandy, my new home. But for some reason, Santa was here. A beautiful blond, blue-eyed man slipped in and out of sight, but his outward appearance was that of Santa Claus. It was the kind of Santa costume that you could buy at the costume section of any mass retailer. One of the sad things about unmatched beauty was the fact nobody could actually claim that his natural beauty was ruined by the look. The brilliance of his blue eyes, which looked like they could suck you in, was the same as ever.

“I am Santa Claus. I came from the North Pole.”

“But now’s a hot time of the year.”

“Santa Claus is a symbol of summer in the Southern Hemisphere. I do not think it is particularly strange.”

“T-That might be true. Well, then... what’re you doing?”

“Santa does what Santa does. The tradition of Santa Claus, much like the language of jewels, has a wide variety of legends to it depending on the region, but either way, the role of a saint who grants blessings to little children, women and those in need is a guise commonly demanded in society. And for you, here it is.” Saying this, “Santa” offered me a plastic, loose stone display case that I was all too familiar with. There was a red stone stuck between the cushion and transparent lid. “Can you identify this gemstone?”

“Tourmaline, I guess. Red tourmaline.”

“Good for you. Did you know that it has one more name?”

“Rubellite.”

“Perfect. Large, pinkish-red tourmalines are called by that name, and it is a stone of which huge carved crystals have been loved as works of art, such as the amulet of Empress Dowager Cixi and the Romanov royal treasure, the ‘Strawberry Pendant’.”

As I peeked at the stone inside the case, humming that it was pretty, the beautiful jeweler cleared his throat and started over.

“Just as people’s feelings dwell within beautiful stones, this one is filled with the feeling of celebrating the start of your new life, from your family back in Japan, your friends and your superior at work, with whom you have a relationship other than the aforementioned and that neither of us knows how to define. Santa is wholly thankful for being in the position to bestow you with such a gift. I forgot to say it, but happy birthday. Nakata Seigi-san. I sincerely pray, all the way from my home in the Arctic, that this year will be a fruitful one for you.”

“Thank you. Seriously, thank you for always, Richa...”

“Santa. I am a passing Santa.”

“Then let’s go with that. By the way, if you’re Santa, where are the reindeers?”

When asked this, the man in disguise answered with a cool gaze that the reindeers were using stealth technology nowadays so that they wouldn’t be found by radars, hence they couldn’t be seen. He had it down to the details.

“It’s been about ten years since the last time Santa-san came around. I’ll take good care of this. Santa-san, you take care of your body too. I’ll ask my boss next time I see him about the person who gave you this stone.”

“You should. Well, then.” With a bow, Santa left for a car parked in the courtyard. I probably wasn’t supposed to see him off. I’d feel bad for the stealth reindeers.

The red stone stayed in my hand.

I had told a white lie. It hadn’t been ten years since Santa had last showed up. This was the first time ever since I was born. In my home, there was always someone playing the role of “Santa”, such as Hiromi, Grandma and Nakata-san, so they never tried to tell me nice lies. Nakata-san probably just followed Hiromi’s way of doing things, though. The fact I thought up something like that last December, when Jeffrey asked me what I “wanted most”, might not have been unrelated to this. At any rate, to me, not even once was there any supernatural existence who would leave toys by my bedside if I were a good kid. Until this day.

After a while of standing by the garden, where it was always summer, and listening closely to the cries of birds with my eyes closed, I unlocked my phone. The Wi-Fi range of the house seemed good, and so I could send e-mails immediately. The contents were simple. The destination was my boss, Richard.

“Santa came to my place. But he left so quick that I couldn’t make him tea.”

The reply soon came: “Are you half-asleep?”

If he really thought that I was half-asleep, then maybe I should delay the reply for a few more minutes, I thought, but I didn’t write anything further. The house’s cleaning was half-assed and I had to check the security. I also wanted to know as many of my neighbors as could.

Together with the feeling that I had suddenly been given something I had forgotten, and that I didn’t even know I had forgotten, I put rubellite in the jewelry safe and stepped out into the Sri Lankan provincial city. I had nothing to fear and no hesitation. The ill feeling that I’d be living here alone had disappeared. After all, Santa had come by. Far from elementary school, I was now an adult who had already graduated from university, and it currently wasn’t December but May, where the only anniversary I could think of was my own birthday, yet Santa had come by. Such an impossible thing had happened.

So I could do my best, I thought.

And so, I could be getting ahead of myself, but I began thinking about my plans for this December. Would there be a second chance for Santa to appear? If not, I wanted to make one. I decided to fuss over the outfit a little more and prepare proper gifts this time. Then I’d tell him stories about jewels and try to make him laugh a lot. That, too, was Santa’s duty.

#housekishou richard shi no nazo kantei #housekishou richard #jeweler richard #the case files of jeweler richard #nakata seigi #richard ranashinha de vulpian #richard ranashinghe de vulpian #richard #jr short story collection #jeffrey claremont #novel #tsujimura nanako #yukihiro utako #my translation

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hyenahunt · 3 years

Text

Jun Sazanami - Sub Story 1

Writer: Akira

Season: Summer

Proofreading: royalquintet

Translation: hyenahunt

Jun: For real, it’s been kinda lonely. I’m usually stuck with Ohii-san, but he’s a selfish aristocrat who can’t communicate for shit, so.

[Location: In front of the station]

Jun: Heeey, Ohii-san~?

Goddamn! Where’d that stupid shitty rich boy run off to this time, huh~?

As I thought, I should’ve tied a leash ‘round his neck to keep him from getting lost.

In the off-chance anything happens to him, my own future’s gonna be pretty bleak, y’know?

Ahh~, I knew this would definitely happen~.....

Eve’s already been getting sideeyed back in our own school ‘cause he’s dense as shit, and now we’re working with another school? Like hell we’re gonna manage.

I mean look, something’s already gone wrong~ This is why I said no in the first place~...

I couldn’t have cared less to begin with. After all, Yumenosaki Academy’s the school where that Jin Sagami is, right?

Expecting us to come along bowing our heads in a place like that, and say something like ‘let’s all get along ♪’ ?

God, this was an outright ridiculous idea from the start~ I knew all along that it’d turn out like this.

Despite that, Ohii-san was all like, “Yumenosaki Academy’s where I used to attend, so! It’s an ideal job for us, you know!”

Yeah, well, that doesn’t have anything to do with me.

I kept complaining and refusing, but that idiot was stuck-up as always with that nasty attitude of his, being all like “I’m not asking for your opinion, yes!”

...Wha--!?

W-What is it? You’re staring pretty hard at me…?

(Mmm~ Did I end up drawing attention when I yelled just now~?)

(Wait, what’s this? The uniform this person’s wearing… It looks kinda like...)

Hey, um. Sorry, but are you from Yumenosaki Academy?

Ah, you are, huh. Thought so~ I’d seen your uniform earlier while doing research.

Ohii-san finds that sort of proper prep work a chore, so I’m always the one handling it.

But… Isn’t that the Yumenosaki Academy idol course uniform? I thought it was supposed to be boys-only?

But you’re a girl, yeah? I mean, you’re wearing a skirt and all.

Hmm? They made a “Producer’s Course” recently?

Ahh~.... I think I’ve heard something about that~ Something ‘bout Yumenosaki Academy planning to completely overhaul its system?

Our school... well, Reimei Academy, and Shuuetsu Academy too - they’re now quite the force to reckon with. It’s ‘cause of that, huh?

So you mean a school with a long history like Yumenosaki’s planning to take ‘em on and reform its own structure, too?

Feels like a lost cause to me, though. After all, Yumenosaki Academy’s just an old relic. No matter how much of a pointless fight it puts up, it’ll just get left behind by the changing times.

New stages aren’t set by ancient folks - surely you’d understand that, right~....?

…. or well, sorry about that. Ah, damn~ I’ve sure made a habit of rambling to myself.

I only recently got promoted to Special Student status, y’see, and since I don’t know anyone 'round me I’ve had no real choice but to talk to myself.

For real, it’s been kinda lonely. I’m usually stuck with Ohii-san, but he’s a selfish aristocrat who can’t communicate for shit, so.

That stupid shitty rich boy.... We’re on completely different wavelengths.

Hm? Ahh, by “Ohii-san” I mean that guy known as Hiyori Tomoe.

Since he acts like he’s some sort of royalty, I tried to tick him off with a nickname like “Ohii-san”.

But y’know, that guy didn’t even get that he’s supposed to be annoyed by it. Trying to throw stones at the heavens will only get you sore shoulders, huh.

Well, whatever. Complaining won’t get anything done, so I’ll just have to do my best to meet that idiot’s demands.

Ahh~hhh…. My future looks so gloomy no matter when, y’know~?

What to do now~.... I heard today’s just the briefing session and we won’t be having any practice, so maybe I should hit up our hotel in advance to get our luggage sorted?

Our work this time’s gonna be going on for quite a bit, so of course that idiot brought a load of baggage……..

If I don’t make proper arrangements, I’m probably gonna be out of a sleeping place.

Even if I don’t show up to the briefing, Ohii-san’s probably gonna just go on and tell me all about it anyway.

I’ve got other things I promised to do, too. Maybe we’ll just work separately for a while?

It’s not like I have any super close friends or family anyway, so I’m fine without having to work in perfect step with a group.

I’m just gonna do whatever I want on my own, I guess~?

….mm? You’re still here?

Umm, do you still need me for something?

Huh? “I don’t really get it, but do your best”, you say?

Ahh, gotcha… Thank you for your concern.

Haha. Please don’t be so kind to me, alright? I’m not used to that sorta stuff…. In fact, it’s kinda embarrassing, y’know?

✦✦✦✦✦

*'Ohii-san' means princess, so Jun is poking fun at Hiyori's princesslike ways whenever he calls him that.

** This is a vintage translation note in my first ever translation so I’m leaving it in for posterity’s sake.

✦✦✦✦✦

✦ all ✦ next →

#jun sazanami #enstars #ensemble stars #enstars translation #hyenahunttl #type: idol story #era: !

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sincerly-kate · 4 years

Text

Shattered Glass (Malcolm Bright/Whitly x gn!reader)

A/n: This story is inspired by two things; a two-part series by @wreckofawriter and also my experience with family . If you want me to remove it (wreckofawriter) then I will, but I don’t mean to copy your amazing work.

Warnings: Angst to fluff, Malcolm trying his best (not really a warning but that needed to be put out there, HE ONLY TRIES HIS BEST), also talk about poor mental health! (Such as Anxiety, description of an anxiety attack (this is based off MY experiences I’m not trying to generalize them!) and slight depression)

Don’t read if you’re not done season one! All spoilers are under the cut just in case (Eve is mentioned, iykyk)

Summary: You and Malcolm have been dating for a few years now, you share with him all of your sides- or so he thought. How will he react when he sees you crying when you think he can’t see you? How will he feel when he realizes that you guys are more alike than he originally expected?

Y/s/n = Your Siblings Name

Y/m/n = Your Mothers Name

y/n = your name (just in case this is your first fic)

Words: Just over 3,000 (😅😅)

I was listening to this song as I was writing this: If the World Was Ending- JP Saxe, Julia MIchaels

You always knew that Malcolm could see the real you better than anyone else, he could see straight through your facial expressions and little habits. It was his job after all as a profiler, he couldn’t just turn it off when he was with you and that was understood between the two of you. The last thing you wanted was for him to change in a world that treated him differently already (no thanks to his father).

But there was one part of you that you tried to keep from Malcolm at all costs, and that was your family.

It wasn’t because you didn’t trust him with that knowledge, but it was just a side of you that you’ve never been able to let anyone see. To see how hurt you were by their words, how little you were respected by them, how small you felt anytime you tried to be yourself around them. You couldn’t tell him any of it, you hoped that he would believe your lies, cause you knew that his family was way worse than yours; so you just kept it all inside for no one except yourself to see. The last thing you wanted was for him to feel guilty for confiding in you after all these years.

You felt him nudge your shoulder, which brought you back to reality. You were a Reporter, and a very god one depending on who you asked, and Malcolm needed you to help him drag out a killer for a case. He was profiled as overly confident and a borderline narcissist, so Malcolm was certain that if you talked about him on the news, saying that they had him in custody that he would contact either you or the station to say you had a fraud. Malcolm was going to be by your side the entire time, just to make sure they wouldn’t go after the most important person in his life-,not again; he wouldn’t know what he would do if you were taken away from him like Eve. He would do anything in his power to make sure that he wouldn’t go after you, since you matched most of his previous victims.

“You alright?” He looked at you slightly worried, he was always concerned when you got too deep into that head of yours, he wasn’t sure what caused you to be constantly thinking that you’re not good enough, but he wasn’t going to press the matter. He rubbed your thigh as he sat next to you, to keep you grounded.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be? It’s not like I’m about to be indirectly talking to a serial killer on live television, and possibly get a target on my back for doing so.” You nervously laughed as you looked down at your feet, your leg bouncing up and down to the rhythm of your rapidly beating heart.

“You don’t need to do this; you know that right?” He placed his hand on your cheek, caressing the side of your face with his thumb repeating the motion to calm your nerves. “I can ask Ainsley; she’s done this before-”

“Malcolm, I’ll be alright. I always am.” You gave him a tight-lipped smile; you knew it wasn’t very convincing but that’s all you could muster up at the moment.

He wasn’t convinced, you could tell since he gave you his doubtful that he’s given you on more than one occasion but he was cut off by another voice before he could call you out on it.

“C’mon Bright, they’re about to go live.” Gill said as he lightly grabbed his arm to get him out of the shot, and he complied.

“Live in 3,2,1...” You were given the cue as you took a deep breath and put your ‘TV face’ on as you liked to call it. “Breaking news tonight, the NYPD have confirmed that they have someone in custody who’s been known to the public as The angel of death, nothing has been said by police if this truly is their killer but after the past week of The angel of death terrorizing the city, police are led to believe that this is him.”

You took a pause to make it look like you were listening to someone through your earpiece, that was intentionally visible to the camera, then carried on with the broadcast.

“I’ve just gotten a confirmation from our sources that it has been officially confirmed that they have The angel of death himself in custody and will be setting a court date to be announced later. Now back to Ryan with politics.”

The second you heard the ring that signaled you were no longer on air, you slumped over in relaxation. You crossed your arms on the table in front of you and leaned your head, that now felt lighter than air, on top.

“You did amazing darling, that should get the killers attention for certain.” He said to you as the sound of his shoes got closer to the desk the kissed the top of your head and slowly rubbed your back to release more tension that he knew you were holding.

“I didn’t really- “You tried to correct him as you lifted your head, but Malcolm refused to let you get close to finishing that sentence of yours.

“Nope- you just brought us our killer baby; you did a hell of a lot more than most would’ve in your shoes.” You loved how he was always able to reassure you, and how he did it without a second beat.

You turned to look up at your loving and supportive boyfriend in admiration and a warm smile slowly painting your features, “Whatever I did in a past life was so worth it.”

“What?” He slightly laughed at your statement, looking at you now with a mixture of curiosity and confusion.

“To deserve someone like you and be lucky to call them mine.” You stood up from your chair and moved closer to him to close the distance between his lips and yours, you could taste the slight cherry flavor of the candy you knew he had earlier. As you two break apart, you can still taste it on your own lips.

Unfortunately, this moment doesn’t last as long as you two wanted it to, because both of your phones go off. His from an unknown caller, and yet yours is somehow worse.

You look down to your phone saying Mom, you sighed at this and then looked at Malcolm, or where he was, already on his phone, most likely talking to the killer himself next to Dani, Giles and JT.

You excused yourself to another room for some privacy that you knew you were going to need. You were only halfway to the quiet room when you answered your phone; you knew that was going to be a bad idea.

“Why in the hell did you think that was a good idea y/n?!”

You sighed and with a tight-lipped smile replied with, “Hello to you too mom, haven’t heard from you in a while.” You then slowly closed the door behind you.

“Don’t give me that lip! I am your mother, I deserved to be treated with respect! I never get this from y/s/n.”

You dropped your head down in defeat, you always considered the problem child, ever since your sibling came into the picture. Before that everything was relatively fine, but you never blamed y/s/n though; it’s not their fault your parents decided that you could fend for yourself at the age of 8.

“Yeah I know, but it was for a case- “Once again, she decided to cut you off.

“A CASE?” she shrieked into the phone, making you pull the device away from your ear.

“Yes- “

“Now I knew were selfish, but I never thought it was this bad. I could tell that it was staged, are you seriously putting yourself in danger so they could contact you for some ink?”

You were absolutely shocked by her words; she thought that you risking your life was selfish? So, you could save others, that made you selfish? You felt the pressure of tears build up as a sickening pit was building in your stomach; she always knew the words to say and never in the good way. “No, that’s not- “

“No, I get it, you’re too damn stupid to see past your own needs. I have no clue where I went wrong with you.”

The minute you heard that, you hung up the phone. You couldn’t care less about what she would’ve said after that.

You hit your back on the wall as you slowly walked backwards and slid down to the floor. You pulled your knees up to your chest and placed your head down.

You must’ve been sitting there for a while as there was a rough knocking behind your back, on the door. ‘They must’ve been knocking for a while’ you thought.

“Y/n! Are you in there?” Malcolm. You must’ve scared him to death, without even thinking you stand up and open the door for him.

Behind the door was Gil, JT and Dani accompanying Malcolm. “Shit guys, sorry if I scared you.” You laughed humorlessly but stopped once you saw all their concerned faces.

“Y/n, you alright?” Gil asked, who was more of a parental figure than your own, but you couldn’t ever tell him that. Not because you were scared it would go to his head, no, he wasn’t like that. You just didn’t want it to become awkward since he already needed to worry about Malcolm, you didn’t need him to constantly worry about you on top of it.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” You said then realized you still had massive tear stains on your cheeks and puffy eyes from your previous phone call, you forgot to wipe them away before you opened the door.

‘Dammit y/n’ you scolded yourself for making the four of them all worry.

“Um you got somethin’ right,” JT then motioned to his whole face, Dani then elbowed him in the side for his unhelpful comment.

“Oh!” You wiped the sides of your face, “I’m fine guys, just got something in my eye.” You smiled at all of them.

Your head then turned to Malcolm, who squinted his eyes at you. You could tell didn’t believe you at all; he knew all your tells. You could tell that he was going to ask later, but you were sure as hell going to avoid it if you could.

Unable to deal with the silence anymore, you pushed by all of them, apologizing as you went, and walked out to your car. You were done for the day anyways, so you wanted to go home to Malcolm and yours’ apartment.

Once you got through the door, you let the dam in your mind open. The flood gate of tears rushed, and there was nothing you could’ve done to stop it; not that you really wanted to anyways. Your hands shook from the rush of emotions going through you, but you forced down the inevitable panic attack until you got to the couch. Your hands continued to uncontrollably shake, and you curled up in a fetal position with your favorite blanket wrapped around you like a tight hug. The words of your mother echoed throughout your fogged mind.

“I knew were selfish… you’re too damn stupid to see past your own needs…”

It just wouldn’t stop. It was like a massive wave going over a surfer; nothing could be done about it, you just needed to ride it out.

You heard a muffled noise coming from behind you but being so caught up and immobilized in your thoughts, nothing could’ve dragged you out of this one, not this time.

A pair of arms grabbed your shoulders, and there was enough fight left in you to push them away and run into the corner of the apartment. You could slightly see a male figure coming near you, and all you were capable of doing was whimpering and curling up in what you had deemed your safety blanket.

“Y/n… talk to me… happened at… were worried…”

You tried to make out the familiar voice- Malcolm; that’s the only person it could be right? It didn’t matter to you right now; the voice of your mother was stronger than your own thoughts, it always had been.

You felt a thud right next to you, and smelt the subtle sent of his cologne, it brought you back to your senses slightly, but not enough to stop your uncontrollable shaking and tears. He nudged himself closer to your body, and you instinctively laid your head on his shoulder. You could feel yourself calm down, but you knew it was because he was here. Yes, he was helping you ground yourself through the small gesture, but it was mainly that you were embarrassed of him seeing you like this and could feel your body force away the attack.

As you begun to trust yourself to speak, you turned slightly towards Malcolm, a numb look coated your features. “Sorry you had to see that; you shouldn’t have had to.” You spoke meekly, looking down at your still slightly shaky hands in your lap.

“Y/n, you have nothing to be sorry for.”

It was once he said that sentence that you knew you needed to come clean about the one secret that you had left from him.

“But I do, I’ve been selfish.”

“How darling?” He said while slowly petting your head, the way you’d comfort a child.

“I didn’t want to tell you, cause you already had so much on your plate, with this case, your family, and I- I just didn’t want to add my family on top of it.” He understood that this must’ve been eating at you for a while, because you normally bottled all your feelings until it broke; unfortunately, that’s why you both got along so well. He never wanted you to feel like that was necessary when you were with him, but how do you bring that kind of thing up?

“What about your family?” he spoke softly. You never spoke about them, hell he’s never even met them but now he felt deep down that he was about to find out why.

“Am I selfish to you? Am I someone you really see yourself with in the long run?” Tears begun to fill your eyes again, and a crack in your voice was evident to Malcolm that you believed in what you were saying about yourself.

He felt a pang of sadness for you in his chest, that was quickly turning to anger at whoever made you feel like you were any less than worth the universe. He composed himself before he responded to your question.

“Far from it, you are the most selfless human being I’ve ever met. There’s now way that a selfish person would’ve done what you did today; going in front of thousands of people and calling out a killer like that, like a badass.” He nudged your shoulder, where he got a slight giggle out of you. It wasn’t a lot, but it was better than nothing.

“And absolutely can I see you with me later on,” He took a deep breath before he continued his statement. “I love you y/n, and if I ever lost you… I don’t even want to think of who I would become. You’re the greatest thing that has ever happened to me.”

You immediately rushed into his arms and embraced him so tightly, afraid that this was all some massive cruel dream, and you’d wake up another day without him knowing. You stayed like this for a moment before Malcolm piped up,

“So, you wanna tell me why the most beautiful person to ever walk the earth is currently crying on our apartment floor at nearly 9 pm?”

You both chuckled at this, as you unwrapped yourself from his arms to look him in his beautiful blue eyes. His eyes were still filled with an underlying anger, but mainly held concern towards you.

“You know when we were at the news station today? And you got a call from the killer?” He nodded, encouraging you to continue.

“Well I also got a call, but it was from my mother. We got into an argument, since she saw the broadcast, and words were said.” You knew that the fine details were going to be said eventually, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it.

“And, what did she say baby?” He answered in a voice that was barely even a whisper, he looked you up and down; most likely looking at your body language to see if you were going to try and lie, but he could tell that you were going to be honest.

“That I was selfish, dumb, questioning where she went wrong with me.” You sniffled and looked to your hands, terrified to see Malcolm’s reaction. Not because he might yell at you, but at what he might do to your mother now that this was his first impression of her.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Was all he said after some silence.

“You have your own family shit to deal with, I didn’t feel like it was fair on you to dump mine on top of it. I didn’t want you to lose anymore sleep than you already do over something that I need to deal with.”

“…”

“Malcolm? You’re scaring me.” You looked up at him to see him looking out the window, his face glowing from all the nightlife neon lights across the street; he looked so angelic, more than he normally did.

“How didn’t I see this any sooner? I don’t care that you didn’t tell me y/n, I don’t care that your family is screwed up as well. I do care about the fact that I couldn’t help you through it.”

“But Malcolm it wasn’t your fight-” you tried to defend your reasoning, but alas he needed to correct you once more before the night was through.

“You’re right; it’s our fight. To hell with our parents, we’re not our parents; we are our own people. So, from this moment on, I promise to be completely transparent with my baggage as long as you are with me. We can break our constantly bottled-up feelings together.” He gently picked up your hand and laid a kiss on top.

“turn them into shattered glass.” You nodded as you spoke, a smile slowly coming back to your face.

“Just like shattered glass.” He nodded back, returning your smile.

And just like that, the two of you sat down on the couch, cuddling and watching movies as dusk carried on into dawn.

A/n: I hope you guys liked this, I always loved Malcolm’s character and Prodigal son, and with my life being slightly hectic at the moment this was a nice change of pace. Hope you have an amazing day or night, depending on where you are! 💙

-Kate

#prodigal son #prodigal son x reader #malcolm whitly #malcolm bright x reader #malcolm bright #malcolm whitly x reader #prodigal son fandom #prodigal son fanfic #dani powell #gil arroyo #angst to fluff #kate writes #prodigal son spoilers s1

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artsoupsoupart · 4 years

Note

I don’t know if you’re doing prompts, but if you are.. Can you write a hicsqueak fic, please. A spell mishap of meddling young witches resulted in Cackle’s and Pentangle’s castles merging. Hecate and Pippa woke up on their now joint bed. Their wardrobe and chambers are merged too and it took them a whole week (maybe longer) to fix it and find the culprits. Thanks! Love your hicsqueak fics btw

It’s not exactly the prompt but I hope you enjoy it! Sorry it took so long, it’s been like 3 weeks but it kinda got out of hand lol! Also: I’m not not taking prompts, but I write slow so if anyone sends one, sorry if it takes a while to get it filled!

Cacktangle’s Academy for Witchcraft and Wizardry

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27270871

“Lights out, girls,” Hecate bellows as she glides down the corridors. Around her, doors shut closed and lights turn off as young witches clad in matching pajamas scurry into their rooms from their friends’. Each one bids her goodnight (some more confidently than others), something that didn’t use to happen, and she can’t quite pinpoint when it had started. Perhaps she had gone soft in the last few years. Not that she necessarily minds. Anymore.

She’s just about finished with her rounds when one Azura Moon slips out of her door and wraps her arms around Hecate’s middle.

“Good night, Miss Hardbroom” the girl says as she smiles, as wide as she ever does. Hecate still freezes at the contact she should be used to after two years (especially because Azura takes every opportunity to hug her and for some reason she just can’t tell the girl to stop) but she does eventually return the embrace, tapping the tips of her fingers against the girl’s shoulder, silently noting not for the first time how much taller she’s gotten.

Then she’s turning the perpetually exuberant witch away from her and to her room. “Good night, Azura. And do tell Miss Jones she has precisely three seconds to return to her own room.”

Hecate doesn’t even get the opportunity to begin her countdown when the other girl pokes her head out of the room with a sigh. Azura simply continues to smile as she hugs her friend and they part ways for the night. When the door shuts behind Azura, Hecate stops and listens. With Isabella securely in her room in the Citrine hall, the castle seems quite enough. Even Mildred is tucked away in her room, though she’s not sleeping by any means. But Hecate won’t disturb the girl tonight. Not when she knows Mildred has been staying up later and later to research witching colleges (a fact that brings the older witch a bit of joy). Instead, Hecate transfers directly to her rooms for the night.

She takes extra care getting ready for bed. Her shower is hotter and filled with lavender essence. The last few showers had been quick spells after long, tiresome days and they definitely weren’t as satisfying. She chooses a softer, silkier nightgown and takes her time moisturizing. By the time she settles at her vanity to call Pippa, Hecate is relaxed and pliable and she begins brushing out her dark locks.

“Good evening, darling,” Pippa grins through the mirror when it connects. She’s already lying in bed, propped against her plethora of pillows. Her hair is slightly wavy from being freshly washed and it fans out against the pink silk, her face free of makeup and her freckles on full display. This is perhaps Hecate's favorite Pippa, relaxed and serene, unencumbered of being headmistress and modern magic activist. She’s delicate in a way that she can’t be during waking hours and Hecate feels a bit of pride at being one of few who has gotten to see her this way.

"Evening, Pippa," Hecate smirks. "You look comfortable."

The blonde snorts and launches into the events of her day. The tale is one filled with students who could stand to be more observant, mischievous fae friends, and strict council members. All things Pippa had had to deal with more or less by herself due to her deputy being otherwise preoccupied in securing more scholarships for next year.

"But that's all in the past, Hiccup. I'm already better," the blonde breathes out. "Tell me about your day, darling."

As Hecate recalls about her day, she notices the glassy, dreamy look that passes over Pippa’s eyes. That look that lets her know that while the blonde is definitely still listening, she’s daydreaming, most likely about her hair. Pippa has always been weird about Hecate’s hair. Smitten. That’s the look. Hecate now knows that she saw this look many, many times when they were teens and she’s been on the receiving end of the look more times that she can count since they’ve started dating, but it still makes her heart flutter.

“I love brushing your hair,” Pippa mumbles. It’s as if she just let out a secret as tanned cheeks blush a brilliant red and the blonde looks away from the mirror.

“Yes, I know you do,” Hecate says, as casually as she can manage.

“I would do it every night if I could,” she says, referring to brushing. It only makes Hecate smile wider and she reminds her that while that would be fantastic, they have other responsibilities that prevent that. The petulant look on Pippa’s face is almost comical as she huffs and pouts. Hecate simply placates her that she’ll be able to do so when she visits, whenever time allows. The two go on to talk in soft hushed tones as Hecate herself settles into bed for the night, falling asleep together without ending their call.

Meanwhile, back in the Ruby corridor, two very awake and very excited witches sit in front of their mirror, whispering away to their friend.

“Come on, Izzy! Think of it! Addy is going to be at Pentangle’s most of the time. And we’re going to be here. Wouldn’t it be great if we could just open our wardrobe and boom? We’re there or she’s here.”

The redhead purses her lips in thought. The Addy in questions has hope in her eyes as she holds up the spell they can do to essentially make a portal connecting the two rooms. It’s restricted use of magic but it would be nice to visit whenever they wanted. “Okay, fine! What do we do?”

So, they set to work. Addy lists off the ingredients and directions while Azura mixes them together. Izzy then takes the combination of ingredients and crawls into the wardrobe.

“We should put in a clause! That no other people here or at Pentangle’s can find the door.”

“Especially, HB.”

“Oh yeah, she’d go bats.”

So, they add a few lines to the spell and with slightly shaky hands, Izzy closes her eyes and begins the spell. Her hands trace the back panel of the closet and then she knocks three times. All three girls wait and wait and wait, confused until the light pulls at the edge and a new door forms.

“It worked! We did it!” Azura whisper-squeals before crawling through the new door.

Hecate wakes slowly as her alarm charm tings to life at 6 AM. With eyes still closed she lifts a hand to silence the charm, breathing deeply and stretching like a cat, back arched and limbs straight. And suddenly there is a set of arms and legs, warm and secure around her own body. Her eyes shoot open. She stiffens. She wants to panic immediately. A voice in her head that sounds suspiciously like a certain blonde tells her to Breathe, Hecate. Assess. Her gaze looks down to the hands now around her middle. Pink nails, tanned arms. Pippa?

“Pippa?” She questions out loud, voice still raspy from sleep. And then she turns as gently as she can. It doesn’t stop her from startling the blonde, whose hazel eyes fly open as she lets out a high-pitched squeak.

“Hiccup?!” The blonde puts a bit of space between them, chest heaving as she stares at her. “What are you doing in my bed?”

“Your bed? Pippa, you are in my bedroom.”

Pippa looks around, gathering her bearings, surprised that she is in fact not in her own bed, or even her own room. So many of her things, however, are perfectly placed. Her soft pink silk pillows differ greatly with Hecate’s deep burgundy duvet. Her creme bedside chair had made it to the room. Her favorite blanket and the plush donut Hecate won at the All Hallows’ Eve festival the year before sits on said chair. Her jewelry box and makeup reside on Hecate’s otherwise bare vanity. It’s as if she’s moved in overnight.

“I don’t understand.”

“Neither. Do. I.” Hecate’s brows are furrowed as she looks around. “But we’re going to find out.”

With that, Hecate throws on her leather robe. She pauses briefly to hand Pippa one of her others, opening the wardrobe to find it clustered with bright sky blues and soft pinks. Light washed jeans that increase to pairs of black leather are neatly hung. There’s pumps and sneakers and flip flops in just about every color. It’s as if her wardrobe has been split right down the middle, the two sides now contrasting so vibrantly. One being a rainbow of color and the other darker and subdued. Hecate’s eyes almost bulge out of her head, but Pippa silently places a hand on her shoulder as she reaches for her own robe in the wardrobe.

As a habit, Pippa slips her fingers between Hecate’s and all but drags her from the bedroom. The living space is even more spliced than the bedroom with the large windows from Pentangles’ front and center letting in the bit of sunlight that has already started to peak through the morning clouds. It stops them both in their tracks, but Hecate quickly recovers. They don’t have time to dwell on just how strange this is. They have to figure out what’s going on and fast.

They twist and turn through the castle until they reach an equally distraught Ada, who is attempting to calm a fuming Miss Tapioca, whose kitchen is now cluttered with items from the other school and arranged differently. Hecate and Pippa cautiously approach when the familiar faced teachers arrive. Dimity rounds the corner with Abigail, Pentangle’s fitness witch. Peter and Christopher, the flying instructor and librarian, arrive with Theodore Daisy and Lavinia Crotchet, Cackle's new chanting instructor. Soon the entirety of both staffs are ushered into the Teacher’s lounge, which unsurprisingly has also been combined with the one at Pentangle’s.

“Did anyone cast any renovation spells recently, any chants?” Ada asks when Hecate finally gets the room to quiet.

All the teachers shake their heads in unison.

"No, a staff member didn't do this.” Hecate says, eyes squinted in thought. “A student did. The magic, while definitely strong is highly simple and misguided." "Well then," Ada starts, "we need to find the stu-"

An eruption of chatter and a knock at the office door stops the headmistress in her tracks. Hecate flicks her wrist to reveal Mildred with the rest of the sixth years behind her. Surely the other young witches are not far away.

"Miss Cackle," Mildred stumbles inside, eyes wide and confused. "I woke up early because I just know we're going to have a pop quiz in advanced myths and legends, and I got out of bed and Melinda Merriweather from Pentangle's was in my room! And her things. Her bed, her posters, her clothing. Everything."

"Mildred Hubble," Hecate begins. The girl starts to say something, but the witch holds up her hand. "All students are to report to the field. Pentangle's and Cackle's, organized by year and name."

Mildred's mouth drops open, but she simply nods instead of rebutting. Perhaps she has learned something in her two years as head girl. Ever the lead, Mildred turns around and addresses her fellow classmates and the girls shuffle outside. It's loud and the lines will definitely not be neat, but Hecate has at least bought the two staffs a bit of time to devise a solution.

"So, the whole school has been, what? Merged?" Pippa asks.

"It would seem so." Hecate flexes her fingers in thought. "We'll have to do a thorough inspection, but with the amount of merging that seems to have happened it might take weeks to undo."

Dimity, who had been watching the girls file out to the field, adds, "It could take months."

The entire room stops. Eyes searching eyes for some type of hope that it doesn't take months to restore order.

"Well," Ada tries to smile, "Let's hope that's not the case. Now, let’s quickly find a solution for today. Those students can’t stand outside forever.”

It takes all of five minutes for the headmistresses and deputies to quickly form a plan. The students will be given a free day of no classes while the staff members catalogue the damage done, that is after they find the perpetrators. Then they’ll decide how to best proceed in educating their students. They are, after all, witching (and wizarding) academies first.

With a plan for the witches and wizards, the teachers file outside after casting freshening spells and changing their clothes. Pippa and her deputy address the Pentangle’s students and let them in on the details of what’s happening. Hecate, though, immediately turns on her strict and scary facade (though she’s quite pleased at how well the girls have followed direction. She wants to praise them, but now is not the time).

"Mildred Hubble?” She stands in front of the girl, brow raised.

“It wasn’t me, Miss Hardbroom. I promise! I haven’t caused any trouble in months. Promise!”

Hecate squints her eyes at the teenager. The deputy head scans the lines of girls, eyes blazing. Some cower, some look utterly bored. She turns to the next trio of suspicion. Beatrice, Sybil, and Clarice all shake their heads when her eyes land on them. No, not them. Hecate lifts her head, sniffing the wind as a lioness to her prey. Her feet lead her to where the third years have lined up. Head tilted; she walks the line. Walks and walks until she stops right in front of the exact girls, bending down slowly to meet them eye to eye.

“Azura Moon and Isabella Jones.”

“We’re sorry, Miss Hardbroom.” The young redhead blurts out immediately. For once, Azura, the perpetually cheerful girl, looks positively stricken with fear. “We didn’t mean to merge the booth schools. Just our doors. Like Narnia.”

“We just wanted to see Addy.” Azura interjects.

The girls talk in tandem, explaining their reasoning. Adelaide cautiously takes her place by the girls, with Pippa in tow. All the while Hecate grows more and more red, her back straightening to her tallest height.

“Silence!” She hisses as her eyes blaze into the three very shocked, very scared third years. Had this been another time, perhaps a few years ago, Hecate thinks she would simply snap. Instead, she lets the steam shoot from her ears and lets out a stiff breath. Pippa’s doing. With clipped words and fire still in her eyes, she continues. “Azura Moon. Isabella Jones. And Adelaide Peppercorn. You three will have detention every day until this is fixed.”

Azura opens her mouth to speak but thinks differently when Miss Hardbroom’s piercing cold eyes snap to her. “Get ready for the day. Breakfast will be served early, and every student must return to their newly merged room until Headmistress Cackle and Headmistress Pentangle formulate a solution. No student will be caught outside of their room without permission lest they want to join these three in detention.”

And with that, the Cackle’s witches were dismissed, shuffling away with the softest whispers. Pippa then dismisses the Pentangle’s students, who follow the others inside.

“Well, I suppose we should join the students for breakfast and then take inventory of the damage.” Ada says.

Breakfast is.... a struggle to say the least, but they manage it well enough. Miss Tapioca and Miss Cassava have their spats resulting in a mix of a meal. There’s a mix of cold oats and bright fruits. None of the dishes match, which Miss Tapioca scowls at in disgust. The now enlarged Great Hall luckily added the necessary tables and even extended the teacher’s table to sit everyone, so they’re not strapped for space. The hall is buzzing with chatter as some of the young teens fawn over being with their friends, others over the wizards they’ll be sharing space with for the foreseeable future with. (A message will have to be sent out to the parents. There will definitely be quite a few upset families). Hecate has half a mind to punish everyone and make the students eat separately and in total silence but her own thoughts of how to separate the two schools overtake disciplining at the moment.

After breakfast, the students are all sent to their rooms and the staff begins their inspection. Most of the classrooms are heavily bound together. The bedrooms too. The only rooms that can realistically be separated sooner rather than later surprisingly seem to be the storage rooms. Everything else will take at least a week, some more. Even some wards from Pentangle’s have replicated themselves at Cackle’s, making some of their own unstable. It’ll take well over a week to reverse those.

The stress of the situation radiates off the blonde, but she gives Hecate no chance to comfort her, choosing instead to fully delve into the title of headmistress. But Hecate knows it’s clawing at her to see her school not be her school. Pippa and her deputy depart soon after a plan is made to begin the separation to check on the Pentangle’s location. In the meantime, Hecate busies herself with potions needed to fix the wards.

Pippa rings about two hours later and to the untrained eye she looks reasonably and understandably stressed. But Hecate notices the red that rims her eyes, the way her mouth is down turned. There’s a brittleness to her voice. She knows Pippa won’t let it show (she never does) but the blonde is positively devastated.

“At least the young wizards’ rooms aren’t combined with the girls. It’ll be easy to get them back to Pentangle’s when the time comes.” Pippa attempts to find some silver lining of this situation before she informs them that they’re headed back. The subtle wobble in her voice doesn’t go unnoticed to Hecate. Had she had the time, she’d call her privately, let her cry and rant and feel. Instead, she has three third years in detention to attend to.

Azura, Isabella, and Adelaide arrive to the potions’ lab five minutes before Hecate. They’re seated at the cauldrons, with guilty faces. The dark witch materializes at her desk in the middle of the room, the palms of her hands planted on the spokes of her chair.

“Open your witches’ code.” She speaks lowly. Knowing this punishment will last at least a week, she’ll start their disciplining simple enough. For every code they broke, the girls will write and rewrite and rewrite line after line until it’s memorized. Then she’ll figure some other punishment, perhaps a particularly challenging potion. Either way, she’s certain they’ll never use magic so recklessly again.

When she returns to her rooms after detention and bedtime rounds, Hecate is both shocked and pleased to see Pippa already there. But her heart immediately breaks when she sees her sitting on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket, staring off into space as if she’s lost in thought.

“Pippa?”

The blonde turns to her, tears hanging just off the edge of her eyes. Though the room isn’t very large, Hecate transfers right to Pippa, pulling her against her chest. Pippa’s breath shudders. No tears fall, Pippa’s holding back the urge to fully sob. Hecate holds her tighter when she feels her press her nose to her neck, puffs of air hot against it. Pippa’s body shakes and shudders but she never lets the tears come, something worries Hecate immensely.

“Pippa,” Hecate tries again. She receives a small shake of her head, so they sit there silently until Pippa mumbles that she’s ready to go to bed.

The next morning Pippa is as bright as she can be, refusing to talk about the situation outside of what needs to be done. For the rest of the week, the two schools attempt to find some sort of common ground. For the most part, they can continue as they normally would. Some classes have been combined. Dimity and Abigail have a blast sharing exercises for the students while Lavinia and Pippa mesh together traditional and modern chants. Others are left as they were before, something that relieves a bit of Hecate’s stress as she doesn’t have to share her classroom or curriculum. They continue on and slowly, day by day, something gets undone and returned back to its proper place.

...

Wednesday morning breakfast announcements the next week begin with a chiming of bells. Cackle’s is full of life in a way it has never been before. Students in purple vests file in next to witches in grey dresses, chatting a mile a minute even at the early hour as they pile oats and fruit into their bowls. The setup of the great hall is awkward and a bit too crowded, but surprisingly it’s been an easy adjustment. The easiest parts of Pentangle’s have been returned to their proper place. Spells and potions have been brewed for the corners. The two schools have only been joined for six days, but they’re working like a semi well-oiled machine. Each morning Ada or Pippa announce what part of the school has been returned and an estimate of their time remaining. It’s not much of one as they try to keep hope alive but not too high. Only a few of the students have been caught sneaking out to the wizards’ corridors and vice versa, joining Azura, Isabella and Adelaide in detention.

Pippa is just finishing her announcements when someone from the crowd interjects, “But, Miss Pentangle, what about movie night?”

“It was supposed to be this Friday,” another little wizard steps forward to say.

“Oh,” Pippa starts, stumbling in surprise. “Well, I suppose we will just have to postpone the movie night until we return to Pentangle’s.”

Every single wizard and witch from the modern academy groans in disappointment. It radiates throughout the room as the Cackles’ girls’ mouth “movie night?” at each other.

“I know you all were looking forward to it, but good witches and wizards always look for the bright prospect in gloomy situations. A postponement is not a cancellation.” Pippa reminds them. That gets them nodding and some even try to convince their friends that it’s alright, but the atmosphere in the great hall is discontented and unhappy as students file off to classes for the day.

Hecate transfers directly to the potions’ laboratory when breakfast ends, checking the supplies. Between practically doubling the amount of ingredients used in class for both schools and the amount necessary for the separation, each ingredient must be heavily inspected and accounted for. Her back is turned to the young first year witches who dutifully take their places at their cauldrons when she overhears one mention how unfortunate it is that Pentangle’s can’t have their movie night. Another agrees in a soft whisper. What causes her ears to perk is when one of her students mentions Pippa and how the headmistress seemed just as disappointed as her students. Normally, she wouldn’t give such gossip a second thought, but she can’t help but question how Pippa is feeling after having to console her more than once.

And they’re right. Pippa has been off kilter since announcing the postponing of their school wide movie night. Hecate definitely remembers the blonde gushing about how fantastical it would be a few weeks ago. They had been on a mirror call and the blonde had gone on and on about popped corn and fizzy drinks and a movie or two projected outside, under the stars.

Hecate enters Pippa’s office after detention, tapping on the open door.

“Pippa, you need to rest.”

Unbeknownst to many people, Pippa is a worrier. She’d like to be known as the put together, awe inspiring super witch many have made her out to be, but the truth is she stresses more than she would ever let on. She had worried herself sick when applying for Weirdsister’s. Every competition, every presentation, every speech she’s ever had to give has been rewritten, rehearsed, and regurgitated to perfection. Because she is Perfect Pippa and right now Perfect Pippa’s perfect academy is a jumbled mess.

“My school, Hiccup,” her eyes water just as they did the first night. This time, though, they streak down her face, the dam finally broken.

The brunette kneels at Pippa’s feet, taking her hands in her own. “Your school isn’t a building, Pipsqueak. You know that.”

The blonde nods, “I know.”

“And you know you’re doing the best you can to still adequately provide for every student and faculty member.” She goes on to say. Pippa nods again. “It’s not just you who has to fix this and it’s not your fault.”

Pippa sighs and presses a hand to a pale cheek. “Between waking up here and seeing Pentangle’s empty, like a dismembered puzzle and just having to figure things out I...” she trails off, a lump in her throat and tears welling up once more.

Hecate raises up to grab a few of the light pink tissues in the desk. She brushes away tears that threaten to drip down Pippa’s chin and hands the blonde a couple more. “It’s alright. You can’t let yourself take on all of the responsibility, Pippa.”

Then she smiles. It’s watery and sad, but Pippa smiles and Hecate thinks perhaps it’s the first time she’s seen a true one in days. “When did you become the sensible one?”

Hecate scoffs, “I always have been.” And with that, she presses the smallest and sweetest kiss to the hand that is still clutched in her own. The one against her cheek guides her forward for a real kiss. The dark witch finally convinces Pippa to leave her office, to return to their room and rest just a bit. They sit in silence, curled together on the couch before Hecate must take her leave to ensure every witch and wizard are in bed.

During her nightly rounds, Hecate takes the stairs to the old but still familiar room in the tower. She silently greets the bats that hover outside before transferring into the room unannounced.

“Mildred Hubble,” Hecate begins, startling the girl who had been studying. “I require your assistance. Report to the potions’ lab after classes tomorrow.” She raises her hand to transfer away but she pauses. “And do bring Miss Spellbody, Miss Hallow and Miss Foxglove.” Then she’s gone, leaving a stunned Mildred, mouth in a small “O”.

The next afternoon, after classes have finished for the day, Mildred finds herself leading Maud, Ethel, and Felicity down the corridors of Cacktangle’s. She already feels her head throbbing after trying to convince a still skeptical Ethel that she wasn’t trying to play a prank on her. Though, she should get her back for the soap incident that may or may not have happened in the Pentangle’s pool a few days before. She puts it on her mental to-do list. (Just because they’re older and fight with each other less doesn’t mean they can’t play a few tricks every now and then).

“And Miss Hardbroom didn’t tell you why she needed us,” Ethel asks — well, states — for the tenth time.

“No, she just said to bring you,” she sighs, growing more and more frustrated with the blonde.

“Weird. Miss Hardbroom always has a reason for whatever she wants,” Ethel mutters to herself. “Are you sure?”

“Ethel! Why would I lie about Miss Hardbroom needing us?” Mildred tries her hardest not to shout as she pushes open the door to reveal a potions’ lab littered with small bags for popcorn and candy and sugary drinks. Isabella is cutting red and yellow card stock while Azura twines on little twist-ties around baggies filled with lollipops and bubble gum. In another corner, Adelaide is taking inventory of the beverages. Hecate is in the back of the lab, finger pointed as she checks off item after item on a piece of paper, and she looks up when she hears the girls gasp in shock.

Without wasting a second, Hecate puts Felicity on movie duty, her maglet instantly unlocked as she tracks down the topmost popular movies and activities for the uninterested. Ethel, having just mastered a penmanship spell, is set to work on signs and labels. Maud and Mildred are sent to round up any and every spare blanket, comforter, and pillow for their guests.

Detention (or extra tutoring as most consider it but would never let Hecate know) normally lasts an hour. When Hecate had gone to dismiss the girls, saying they’d rather help, she’s shocked that they refused and continued going on. They continue for another two hours until they’re finished. It’s a gesture she’s not sure she’s really received from anyone outside of Pippa, Ada and the Cackle’s staff, this extra voluntary assistance. Hecate definitely isn’t one to ask for help outright. So, they stay until it’s time to ready for bed. The potions’ teacher shuffles the girls, who are both exhausted and buzzing with excitement, off to their rooms.

Hecate is just about to transfer away when Azura calls her name. The instant she turns, head high and brows raised in question, she’s enveloped in that familiar hug again.

When the girl pulls away, she sports a sleepy smile after she yawns into her elbow. “It’s really cool of you to give the Pentangle's students their movie night.” She giggles at the pinched expression on Hecate’s face before skipping back into her room with a soft but cheery “Good night, Miss Hardbroom.”

Breakfast on Friday morning is quiet, none of the Pentangle’s students are very talkative. They're all still upset of their postponed movie night. There had been talk that there would still be one as most were skeptical of Felicity and her inquiries the day before but since word hadn’t come from any of the teachers, the students shrugged it off as Felicity simply being an aspiring journalist. Had she not been so utterly exhausted the night before; Hecate would have told Pippa and they would have had an announcement at the ready. Instead, she had showered and brushed out her hair before slipping into the warmth of the bed that's only been increased by the presence of an extra body. She still has some last minute preparations to do before the first class begins (and to tell Ada -- something she had neglected to do in her haste) so instead she'll just have to announce the movie night at lunch.

The time rolls around and she stands from the teacher's table and walks to the front, following slightly behind Ada. Pippa had been obviously confused when she had walked away with an almost ominous smile. Everyone grows silent and suddenly Hecate is transported to the countless amounts of times she had been forced to speak in front of her peers. Her palms sweat. The unnoticeable tendrils of hair that have fallen from her bun tickle at her neck. But like then, she looks out to the crowd and finds confused hazel eyes waiting for hers and she breathes easier.

Ada starts with a sweet “Good morning, everyone” and then launches into a reminder that Pentangle’s magical maze is still off limits as it continues to change every hour instead of every Friday, making it very easy for any and everyone to get lost. She then turns to Hecate for their special announcement.

She sniffs, tilting her head upward, “All students will be excused from their final periods in order to prepare for,” Hecate pauses for effect. “Special cinematic viewings of select entertainment beginning at 6 pm.”

There’s chatter instantly which Hecate lets go on as she steps down from the stage and back over to the teachers’ table.

“Hecate, did you?” Pippa starts to say.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“You did!” The blonde’s eyes brighten and glaze over slightly. She drops her voice. “That’s why you were working late last night. Oh, Hecate you didn’t have to.”

With shoulders high and a smile, she tries not to let show, Hecate says “Yes, well...”

There’s absolute hearts in Pippa’s eyes. She leans closer to Hecate who tries her hardest to keep a neutral expression when she says, “Remind me to kiss you silly later.”

The school vibrates with energy after lunch. While most of the Pentangles students are out for the day (Hecate still finds Pippa’s insistence of having four day weeks strange) the halls are cluttered, and excitement is in the air. Cackle’s has never had a movie night. Hecate can recall previous students mention is once or twice, but she’s sure she had always turned down the idea with a stern look and a hissing denial.

Now, however, she’s sitting on a blush pink plush quilt on the grass as the sun sets, behind over one hundred students, waiting for the blonde to return from the makeshift concessions. Pippa had known she’d want a bit of their privacy and picked a near perfect spot. The nearest students happen to be Mildred and company and even they are well out of earshot. Dimity and Abigail are to the other side, though they’re a bit less covered in shadows.

There were supposed to be only two movies shown before curfew began, but Hecate had been convinced by more than one student and staff member for just one more. She folded. It’s not like she’d be watching it anyway. She had already sat through two supposed classics, one being about a group of teen witches dabbling in dark magic with no thought of the repercussions and thus reaping what they sow. When the second movie had ended she turned to a very comfortable Pippa, who had been laying against her side at the back of the audience and asked if she could transfer them. Now they’re taking the final stairs to the top of a quiet tower.

“What will the students think?”

Hecate rolls her eyes at the playful tone, “I am a very powerful witch, Pippa. The students wouldn’t dare say anything to me. They’d have to be worried for an entirely different reason.”

“Oh? You would finally pretend to be the big, bad potions’ mistress you aspire to be?”

They exit the door to the tower, high up with the stars when Hecate pulls Pippa to her, nose to nose. “I do not pretend. I am all that you say and more.” She takes Pippa’s breath away, who melts against her embrace. Pippa wouldn’t have even looked away had it not been for Hecate’s own urging her to look around. Red candles outline the group of fluffy pillows, a darker burgundy blanket and darker plush blankets are scattered around for when the wind gets to be too much. There’s wine and dessert and the twinkling stars in the night sky. Hecate twirls her hand and the soft melody of a timeless chant begins to play around them.

The couple settle against the pillows, making themselves comfortable. Hecate pulls Pippa close, one arm around her middle and the other resting on her thigh. They laugh together in hushed tones as to not give away their location. Pippa keeps her promise to kiss her girlfriend silly and Hecate almost, just almost, concedes to sleeping atop the tower for just one night Hiccup, please? They don’t, though she does let Pippa lean against her as she rests for a few precious minutes before transferring them to their shared room. ... One late afternoon, after almost three weeks of domesticated life, Hecate sits at the desk in her rooms, marking the last few fourth year quizzes feeling... different. She’s not as tired as she normally would be. She hasn’t even taken a wide awake potion in maybe a week even with the amount of magic she has expended in the separation process. Her mouth isn’t down turned in a frown at the missed questions and miscalculated math. She’s lighter, and her heart beats a little stronger, a little faster in time. Hecate realizes perhaps for the first time in a very long time that she’s more than content, she’s tranquil.

Hecate is lost in this thought when Pippa breezes through the door with a smile and small skip, her ponytail swinging happily behind her. As always, Pippa greets a lounging Morgana and a stoic Artemis before she primly sits on Hecate’s lap in an attempt to not wrinkle her dress (though she is done for the day) with a greeting and a kiss, arms sliding around her neck. She nuzzles her nose against Hecate’s temple as the brunette returns her embrace and it’s the most natural thing Hecate thinks she’s ever done before. Because it’s become so normal. It’s second nature, like brewing a levitation potion. Pippa, not surprisingly being headmistress, works longer days than Hecate and while she has always greeted her in this manner, the hugs and kisses seem better, warmer, just right.

She can’t have this forever, she knows. Pentangle’s is almost back to normal and then Pippa will be off again, and they’ll be distance lovers once more, meeting when they can. It tugs at Hecate’s heart that eventually she won’t wake to warm puffs of breath against her neck. That she won’t fall asleep to Pippa’s gentle snores. She won’t have to set out an extra mug for tea. The laundry will decrease, dishes too, and she’ll be left to her own devices.

“Hecate, darling, are you alright?” Pippa voice pulls Hecate out of her thoughts.

The brunette nods her head. “Just thinking.”

Pippa hums softly, “About what?”

Could she be completely and totally honest? Why not? It’s Pippa. She’s Pippa’s girlfriend (though she abhors the word) and who else could she be honest with.

“I’ll miss this.”

Pippa softens, holds her a little closer. She readjusts on Hecate’s lap, soft smile on her lips. “I’ll miss it too, darling. So, we should enjoy it while we can.” … Ada and Hecate had been sitting in the headmistress’s office the next day, chatting numbers over tea when there’s a knock at the door. Hecate stands and flicks the door open to reveal Adelaide, Azura, and Isabella with Mildred behind them. The older girl gently nudges them forward and when they give her an apprehensive look at Mildred, she just gives them a more confident one back. Hecate raises a questioning brow, noticing how the younger girls shift from foot to foot, fingers twirling around their sashes.

Azura steels herself and turns to Ada and Hecate with her head high. “Izzy, Addy and I want to lead a project to properly sendoff everyone from Pentangle’s.” “And to apologize again for the mess we caused.” Isabella adds while Adelaide nods her head in agreement.

Mildred steps in, “They’ve got a plan for music and food and decorations.” She pushes Adelaide forward. The younger girl shuffles to Ada and Hecate, waving her hand to produce a booklet of plans only three fourteen year olds could produce.

She and Ada look over it. It’s not a horrible itinerary, some things will have to be changed and adjusted for practical reasons but for the most part it’s doable. Hecate has to stop herself from giving them too positive a reaction. They can’t know she’s proud. Not yet at least.

“I think it’s a wonderful idea,” Miss Cackle sweetly smiles at them. The girls brighten instantly, looking to each other as if they had had their fingers crossed in hope.

And thus, begins the preparation for a farewell dance. Like preparing for the movie night the previous week, Mildred, Maud, Ethel, and Felicity join Hecate and the girls during detention to assist. There’s decorations prepared and stored away, menus to give to Miss Tapioca and Miss Cassava, and posters and fliers to hang up though Felicity’s post on her blog will no doubt spread the news fast enough. (In fact, the girl had known about it before Mildred even asked if she wanted to help. Hecate still doesn’t know how she does it.)

Instead of transferring to her room when she and the girls had finished, she finds herself tapping on Pippa’s still present and ever open office door. For some reason, Pippa’s office has been one of the most difficult places to return to Pentangles, coming second to the ever changing maze. The pink witch looks up above her equally pink reading glasses and instantly smiles.

“I’ve almost finished this last page. I promise, darling.”

Hecate takes her place in the chair across from the desk, a flippant hand waving away the promise. “No need to rush.”

They exchange a brief gaze before Pippa silently returns to whatever paper she was reading. One minute passes. And then another. And then another. Hecate has to stop herself from tapping her foot as the minutes tick by. Her eyes study Pippa. The way her lip is caught between her teeth, her nose scrunched ever so slightly as if something doesn’t make sense. Earlier her hair had been pinned up into a low chignon bun at the nape of her neck. She must have taken it down when classes had ended as it’s now in a slightly higher ponytail. Her matching jacket hangs on the back of her chair.

The brunette is still studying her when Pippa looks up and finally removes her glasses, fingers already pressed to the bridge of her nose.

“There’ll be a farewell dance at the end of the week,” Hecate bluntly states.

“Yes, I heard! It’s supposed to be a fabulous event, you know.” The lift in her voice lets Hecate know the woman’s being playful.

The brunette hums as she leans forward, fingers tapping against the quartz paperweight on the desk. “Indeed, it is. Of course, as headmistress and deputy of our two academies we’ll be expected to attend.”

“Hecate Hardbroom, are you asking me to be your date to the farewell dance?” Pippa bats her lashes and props her head against her hand, a silly but pleased smile playing on her lips.

“I was attempting to be modest, Pippa. Perhaps some sly wizard got to you first” she jokingly says with a roll of her eyes but then looks expectantly at her.

“And I would turn down each one for you.” Finally, the blonde stands from her desk, smile still perfectly in place as she reaches for Hecate with one hand and flicks the door closed and shut with the other. “I’m done here, transfer us, darling?”

“With pleasure.” ... The night of the Farewell celebration, Hecate is a ball of nerves and she can’t really say why. Sure, Pentangle’s and Cackles have been perfectly separated. There’s spare rooms still in place for everyone to sleep in for the night but otherwise they’ll return to normalcy in the morning. She should be happy, and a part of her is. But another dreads the silence that will come when they’re officially two separate schools again. She doesn’t think Cackle’s should be coed but teaching young wizards had been a pleasure she hadn’t expected. The food might lose its flare. The halls will be less congested. There’ll be no Pippa. That really grates at her nerves as they silently ready to the sounds of Pippa’s modern chanting records.

“Zip me?” Pippa asks, already turning her back to Hecate who silently slides the zipper up and up and up.

“You look beautiful, Pippa.”

The blonde smiles brilliantly as she puts the back on her earring, turning to Hecate. “As do you, darling.” At the risk of ruining both of their lipsticks, she presses a light kiss to her lips. “Now, let’s go before we’re late.”

“We could just not go.”

“Hecate,” Pippa almost scolds.

The brunette rolls her eyes as she smirks. “Fine, fine.” And they take their leave, twisting and turning down corridors that no longer have large modern windows to the great hall.

The room sparkles with warm yellow lights. Students are already dancing to whatever pumping beat is playing. Hecate immediately shifts into chaperone mode, finding a place on the wall that she can see the entirety of the room. Ada joins her for a moment while Pippa goes off to mingle with the students and staff, but for the most part she’s alone as she listens and watches, scanning the room for sneaky young witches and wizards. Azura, Adelaide, and Isabella stop to bring her cookies they know she won’t eat but are really hoping she does. She nibbles at one of the plainer ones as she spies Mildred on the dance floor, her movements still as clumsy as they had been years ago.

The night goes on and some begin to take their leave when Hecate finally moves from her spot, transferring across the room.

“Dance with me?” Hecate asks as she appears next to Pippa. The blonde doesn’t flinch like she used to when the brunette would unexpectedly transfer next to her, Hecate notices with a quirk of her lip.

“I’ve been waiting all night for you to ask me that,” the blonde beams, hand reaching for Hecate’s before leading her out to the dance floor.

A Hecate before would have never put herself on such display, a thought that is ridiculous to her now. She loves dancing, has always loved twirling and stepping around a dance floor, her dress flaring at her ankles. But for years she prevented herself from being the center of attention, hating the eyes on her. With Pippa, dancing is even better. She holds and is held closer, tighter. Their steps are synchronized to perfection. They’re cheek to cheek and the students and staff fade to the far distance of her mind leaving just her and her Pippa.

“Marry me?” Hecate asks softly in Pippa’s ear. It’s not exactly how Hecate pictured she’d propose, without the roses and the low light and the ambiance. Perhaps she should have done it the week before when they were alone atop the tower.

Pippa is speechless. Absolutely and fantastically speechless. But also, she isn’t. She has been waiting for this day since who knows when. She has been hoping that would happen sooner rather than later. Perhaps sooner rather than later meant well over thirty years. They’re standing still when she looks into Hecate’s eyes and she pulls them away. Away from young ears and the gazes that don’t even know the question asked. Pippa drags her away until they’re alone and she can breathe and make sure this is real. “You don’t think we’re moving too fast? I mean, we’ve only been together for-“

“One year, six months, two weeks, four days, five hours and,” Hecate takes the moment to open the time piece hanging from her neck. “Twenty six minutes.” Pippa, as stunned as ever, asks through a small chuckle, “Why do you know that?”

The brunette shrugs as if everyone knows exactly when they made things official, fair skin deepening to a full blush. “I’d tell you the seconds but I’m sure I stopped breathing when you said yes the first time.”

Pippa loses her own breath. Curse Hecate and her way with words. She doesn’t think she can breathe without this dark-haired, even darker eyed beauty. So, she kisses her. Pippa kisses Hecate until they are both gasping and out of breath. “Yes, yes I’ll marry you.”

The brunette grins, beams. And they kiss. And something about this feels like a next step. Something about this feels final. Something about this feels right. Like forever.

#hicsqueak #hecate hardbroom #pippa pentangle #the worst witch #fic #Azura moon #chakayla's royal decree

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wisdom-walks-alone · 4 years

Text

we’ve got mistletoe and firelight

a christmas fic for my friend @queerbutstillhere! this was originally for the @damijonsecretsanta but i didn’t finish it in time fhnusihf sorry it’s a bit late korey but you know me DHFUSHYFSL

read it on ao3 The first Christmas was spent in Hamilton County, at Jon and his family’s house. It was snowing. Jon was just about to lose hope for a white Christmas, but mother nature seemed to pull through.

There was excitement in the air, as there always was during this time of year, and Jon was watching as the snow fell lazily outside the window.

"Down, boy," his mom chided, chuckling and putting a hand on his back as he realized he was hovering.

"Sorry, Mom." Jon lowered himself back onto the couch, a sheepish smile on his face.

Mom shook her head, smiling herself. "It's fine, Jon. You know powers are fine in the house, I just don't want you getting in the habit of using them without realizing."

"I know, Mom, I'll be careful," Jon assured her. She ruffled his hair, was met with his protests, then disappeared back into the kitchen to check on dinner.

Just then, Dad walked out of the kitchen, a steaming mug in each hand. He handed the one piled high with whipped cream to Jon, who thanked him avidly. "I would say it's hot and to be careful, but I'm not sure that really matters anymore," Dad commented, and Jon took a tentative sip of his hot chocolate to test it.

It felt fine to him, so he shrugged. "Don't think so. Tastes good, though."

Dad smiled. "You got a little something on your lip there." He pointed and Jon went cross-eyed for a second, then licked the whipped cream off his lips. "You're a bit too young to be shaving, still."

Jon rolled his eyes. "Daaad, you're not nearly as funny as you think you are sometimes."

"It's Christmas, Jon, humor me."

Jon stuck his tongue out and took another sip of hot chocolate.

When the doorbell rang, Jon was the first one up, at the door in a split second, mug left forgotten on the coffee table. “Damian!”

Damian stood in the door, wearing a long coat and a nice shirt and tie, contrasting Jon and his family’s matching sweaters. His dad stood behind him, dressed similarly.

It was a little surreal to have Batman over for Christmas Eve dinner, but then Jon was starting to get used to surreal.

“Bruce, Damian, thank you for joining us!” Jon’s dad came up behind him, placing a hand on Jon’s shoulder.

“Thank you for having us, Clark,” Mr. Wayne replied, stepping inside and reaching to shake his hand.

“Hello, Corncob.” Damian brushed snow off of his shoulder before shrugging his coat off, handing it to his father when he held out a hand for it.

“You can hang those right here.” Dad gestured to the coat rack. “Dinner’s almost ready. And Lois made pie!”

“Can’t wait. It’s been too long since I’ve had Lois’s pie,” Mr. Wayne said.

“Me, too,” Dad agreed.

“Mom made pie last week,” Jon commented, looking at his dad quizzically.

“Exactly,” Dad replied solemnly.

Damian shakes his head. “Tt.”

Dinner went by without much fanfare. And Mom's pie was delicious, as always. Dad had three slices and Damian's dad had two. Luckily, Mom had thought ahead and made two pies. Always one for preparedness.

Once they were all full and done, Damian wiped his mouth and stood. "Now that dinner is finished, I believe it is time for the main event…" He paused, looking around at all of them. Drama queen. "Presents."

"Yes!" Jon leapt out of his seat and made a beeline for the tree.

"Just one, Jon!" Mom called after him. "It's only Christmas Eve!"

Damian met him by the tree, picking up a box that Jon knew wasn't there before. "Here, open mine."

Jon took the box slowly, looking at Damian. "Really? For me?"

Damian scoffed and turned away. "Yes, Jonathan, for you. Who else would it be for?"

Jon smiled widely. "So we are friends,” he said, smile turning devilish.

“Tt. Don't push your luck.”

“You loooove me,” Jon taunted, floating over Damian’s head. “Can’t get enough of me!”

“Just open your present, Hayseed.”

Jon laughed, landing cross-legged on the floor. He started tearing open the wrapping paper, eyes widening when he saw what was inside.

"Monk-E-Monsters! I've wanted this game for months! How did you know?"

Damian shrugged, a knowing smirk on his face. "I'm Robin," he said simply.

"But I thought it was all sold out until after the Christmas season," Jon remembered, looking at him quizzically.

Damian shrugged again. "I'm also Damian Wayne. I pulled a few strings."

Jon grinned and threw himself at his friend (they were friends, whether Damian liked it or not). "Thanks, Damian."

Damian froze for a second, then relaxed. "Of course," he replied, patting Jon on the back. "Merry Christmas, Jon."

Wayne Manor was always cold this time of year. It was an unbelievably old house, and unbelievably big. But gathered in one of the smaller living rooms by a roaring fireplace, it wasn't so bad.

Decorations covered so many of the rooms that Jon would have thought it impossible if he didn’t know who lived here. Even then, the bats must have really had to pull together for something like this—probably all under Alfred’s watchful eye, of course.

A good amount of the caped community was here for one big Christmas party. Jon and Damian's dads were talking with some other members of the League. Dick and his friends were testing how many ornaments he could juggle before dropping one. From his vantage point, Jon guessed they were up to eight or so. He could see some more of Batman's allies in the hallway, Kate and Duke sitting on the stairs chatting, Harper, Cass, and Steph giggling over something on their phones. Conner was hanging out with Tim and the rest of their Titans team, while Jon and Damian sat on the couch with their own Titans playing Super Smash Bros.

"Again?" Gar whined, throwing his hands up.

"Man, you gotta let someone else win every once in a while," Wally added, already resigned. He and Gar sat on the floor, Damian on the couch with Emiko on one side and Jon on the other. Raven sat on Jon's other side, her controller floating in front of her, most of her attention taken up by her drink and her book.

Damian shrugged. "Emiko wins sometimes. So does Raven, when she's paying attention."

"We mean you should let one of us win for once!" Gar wailed.

"You'd win if you were good at the game."

"You little sh—"

"Hey, hey, hey." Jon put a hand on Gar's shoulder to keep him from lunging at Damian. "We are not having a brawl on Christmas."

"But it would be so entertaining," Emiko said disappointedly.

"He is kinda right, though," Raven piped up, not taking her eyes off of her book. "Just get better at the game and maybe you'll win."

"Et tu, RaeRae?" Gar looked up at her, looking like a sad puppy. Literally. He had turned into a little green puppy and was staring up at her pathetically.

Raven wasn't even phased, just turned a page in her book. Jon snorted.

Gar turned back, but the pout remained.

Just then, somebody wolf whistled, and everyone in the room turned to the culprit: Tim. And once everybody saw who it was, they followed his line of sight, right over to Jon and Damian. Jon suddenly felt very vulnerable, which was ironic in of itself, shrinking in on himself a bit while he tried to figure out why everybody was staring at him.

"Hey, Rob." Gar grinned toothily, staring at the space above their heads. Damian's face turned beet red, and Jon looked up to see Kon floating over them, dangling what was unmistakably mistletoe over their heads.

Damian crossed his arms haughtily, pulling a leg closer to his body, clearly trying to downplay his embarrassment. "Tt. As if anyone would partake in your childish holiday games."

Jon couldn't help but laugh. He leaned over, pressing a quick peck to Damian's cheek. "Merry Christmas, Damian." Somehow, Damian's face had managed to turn a deeper shade of red, and he looked away as he pulled his other leg onto the couch.

"Tt. Whatever." Then, when the room had once again filled with chatter and they were about to start another round of Smash, Jon heard Damian mutter a quiet, "Merry Christmas, Jon."

Their first Christmas in their new apartment wasn't looking too shabby, if you asked Jon. He was quite satisfied with the way everything was decorated, by the lights laid out on the TV stand, the tree in the corner letting off a soft glow. Of course, Damian was a perfectionist, so obviously everything would look perfect.

Damian walked out of the kitchen with a mug of hot chocolate, sweater sleeves pulled over his hands, and plopped on the couch next to Jon. He pulled the blanket over his bare legs and tucked himself under Jon’s arm, turning his attention to the Hallmark movie Jon had put on. Jon still didn’t understand the point of wearing shorts with a sweater, and when asked, Damian would just shrug.

He leaned his head on Damian’s, nursing his own mug of hot chocolate. “This is nice,” he said, squeezing Damian a bit tighter.

“Arguable. This movie is maybe mediocre at best,” Daman replied, a smirk audible in his voice.

Jon rolled his eyes. “I don’t mean the movie and you know it.” Damian snorted. “I mean this. You. Me. Us. It’s nice.”

“You’re such a sap,” Damian said, turning his face further into Jon’s chest. “But I agree with the sentiment. I must admit, this is nice.” He played idly with the hem of Jon’s shirt, and Jon pressed a kiss to his head as the movie continued to play.

As the credits rolled, Jon stood up, earning him a whine, with grabby hands following after him as Damian flopped the rest of the way onto the couch. Jon chuckled, walking over to the tree and picking up a small box. He brought it back over to the couch, and Damian’s eyebrows scrunched. “It’s only Christmas Eve,” he pointed out.

“Yeah,” Jon agreed, “but I think you deserve to open one tonight. I hope you like it.” He smiled, holding the box out to his boyfriend.

Damian took the box gingerly, undoing the ribbon carefully and lifting the lid. He pulled out a silver charm bracelet, laying it out on his palm so that he could look at the charms. They were small, nothing fancy, just disks with their initials and a pair of green and blue jewels. “Like I said before, you’re a sap,” Damian told him, but he was smiling. “I love it, thank you.”

He pulled Jon in for a kiss, hand on the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. When they pulled away, Jon gestured to the bracelet, and Damian held out his hand as Jon did the clasp.

Damian smiled. “It’s beautiful. Thank you again.”

“You’re welcome,” Jon said, taking his hands. “Merry Christmas, Damian.”

“Merry Christmas, Jon.”

Damian's never been one for mornings. So when sunlight spills in through the window, all he does is roll over and push his face into the pillow. It smells like lemon scented shampoo.

The bed dips behind him, and strong arms wrap around his waist, pulling him close to a warm body. Damian relaxes into it.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Jon mumbles into his skin, nuzzling into his neck.

Damian pulls Jon’s arms tighter around him, and he feels Jon press a kiss into his shoulder. “Morning, love,” he replies drowsily, his voice still thick with sleep. He twists and rolls over in Jon’s arms to face him, reaching up to brush a lock of hair from Jon’s face. Jon hums, pulling him in for a kiss.

“Daddy! Baba!” a little voice screeches from down the hallway. “Santa was here, Santa was here! Wake up, wake up, Santa was here!”

Damian groans, turning his face back into the pillows. Jon just chuckles. “Your son is calling.”

“Before 8 AM, he’s your son.”

“Was that a Lion King reference? Color me impressed.”

“Ari! Ari, Santa came!”

Damian sits up at that, Jon’s arms falling to his lap. “Sebastian Phillip Wayne-Kent, do not wake your sister up this early in the morning!”

Jon sits up next to him and drags a hand down his face. “It’s too late, she’s awake.”

An excited shriek sounds from Aria’s bedroom, and Damian sighs into his hands. “You heard her, Hayseed. I’m going back to sleep.”

“You can’t go back to sleep, you have to see what Santa brought you,” Jon teases. Damian flops back onto the bed.

“Nope, it’s too early for this, goodnight.”

Too quick for him to process, Damian is standing in Aria’s room, the excited and very awake toddler standing up in her crib, jumping and bouncing. “That’s cheating!” he calls out the door. Jon just cackles from down the hall.

“Ba!” Aria smacks him on the chest.

“Alright, alright, let’s go, you little terror. Santa came last night.” Damian lifts her out of the crib and settles her on his hip, making his way downstairs, the smell of pancakes, eggs, toast, and coffee flooding his nose. Of course Jon already made breakfast. He continues to the living room, where Jon is just barely managing to restrain Bash from opening anything too soon.

When he sees Damian he finally lets go, and Bash zooms over to the tree, floating around as he looks for which gifts are for him. Seeing Bash’s excitement and wanting to follow suit, Aria wriggles free from Damian’s arms and Jon has to use his superspeed to catch her before she hits the floor.

Damian sighs and drops onto the couch beside Jon, watching Aria toddle after Bash, trying to keep up.

“Look, Ari, this one’s for you!” Bash holds out a large box that’s almost as big as Aria. Damian knows there’s a doll in that one.

“Yay!” Aria sits down on the floor with it and starts ripping it open, and Bash finds one to tear open for himself.

“Hey.” Jon gets his attention and holds out a small box, a dopey smile on his face. Damian takes the box gingerly, taking off the lid. It’s a new ID tag clip for his scrubs, with a rubber cartoon cat. He laughs.

“Thank you, habibi, it’s perfect.” Jon clears his throat and glances up for a second, and Damian follows his gaze to where Jon is dangling a piece of mistletoe above their heads. Jon looks at him expectantly, and Damian laughs as he leans in.

“Eeewww,” Bash cuts in, making a disgusted face at them.

“Eeww!” Aria echoes happily, scrunching her nose in an attempt to copy her brother.

Jon rests their foreheads together as they laugh. He looks up at Damian through his lashes and says, “Merry Christmas, Damian.”

Damian smiles. “Merry Christmas, Jon.”

#jay writes #my fics #queerbutstillhere #gifts #jondami #damijon #jon kent #jonathan kent #damian wayne #dc #supersons #super sons #dc fic #batman fic #superman fic #batfam fic #secret santa #damijon secret santa #ily korey!

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argylemnwrites · 4 years

Text

First Noel

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Romance (It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment universe, set around Chapter 21 of that story)

Word Count: ~1800

Rating: R (language, as always)

Summary: As their first Christmas together approaches, Drake and Riley find yet another element of their backgrounds they share.

Author’s Note: Not me posting a Christmas fic after the holiday, hahaha. The truth is that I am trying to get back into the swing of writing, and since I have painfully neglected Why Are We Still Waiting? I wanted to write something in that universe (I haven’t forgotten about that sequel, I swear... if anyone else still cares about that fic, hahaha). The whole discussion of “Walker Christmas” is something that actually really resonated with me during The Royal Holiday. As someone who has needed to work many Christmases, my family would often pick a different day to celebrate to accommodate my schedule, so the Walkers celebrating after the official holiday really rang true to me. So, in the ICWAM universe, this is how Riley leans about that tradition (and posting it after the holiday was totally on purpose *cough cough*)

Riley knew she’d fucked up. There was no point pretending that she hadn’t. The bad part was that she couldn’t really fix it. She was stuck. She was going to have to tell Drake, and she was absolutely dreading it.

Since he’d come back from Cordonia, things had been good between them. Really good, actually. They really hadn’t had any fights or spats or disagreements even. They had both been trying to be open and supportive and it was working. But now, that was all going to change and it was all her fault.

She’d reflexively agreed to work Christmas without really thinking about it. When Cam had asked for volunteers, she’d thrown her name out there instantly. It had always been her habit, having never had anyone to celebrate with and knowing that the odds of getting generous tippers on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were way higher than your average night. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she hadn’t worked on Christmas.

Except this year, she actually had someone to celebrate with, and she hadn’t really thought about that fact until about fifteen minutes after she’d offered to pick up the holiday. She would have felt like a selfish bitch to walk into the back office and tell Cam she actually wanted to retract her offer to work both days, subjecting all her coworkers to a lottery and being seen as a flake at best, a giant asshole at worst. So, she just kept working, letting a giant ball of fear and regret stew in her stomach, getting worse and worse as her shift inched along and she was closer to having to tell Drake what she had done.

He was going to be pissed at her. She just knew it, and he honestly had every right to be. This was his first Christmas not in Cordonia, as far as she knew. He really only knew her in the city, and… fuck, she’d promised him that they would celebrate Christmas together when he decided he wasn’t ready to go down to Texas to spend the holiday with his mother and aunt. God, she was such a shitty girlfriend.

When Drake popped into the bar a few minutes before the end of her shift, she forced a little smile, but it must have looked hollow, because Drake furrowed his brow and gave her a slight frown. Sure enough, as soon as she had clocked out, slipped on her coat, and headed out from the bar hand in hand with Drake, he zeroed in on her mood.

“Did something happen tonight?” he asked, twisting back to look towards the bar.

Riley just shook her head. “No, I just fucked up.” She kept staring ahead, her boots crunching over the salt on the sidewalk, but she could feel Drake staring at her. He was obviously waiting for her to elaborate. She didn’t want to have to confess, to ruin their little bubble of peace and happiness, but she knew she needed to be honest and get it over with. So, she let out a little sigh before soldiering on. “I told Cam I could work on Christmas.”

Drake was silent for a second or two before he asked, “Eve or day?”

“Both.”

His silence stretched on a few moments longer before his response to that. “Oh,” was all he said. He kept his hand locked in hers, but Riley noticed him slow down his pace just slightly. She felt like absolute trash.

“I’m so sorry, Drake. I just wasn’t thinking. I’ve worked so many Christmases in a row that I think I just volunteered out of habit.”

“It’s fine, Liu.”

“No, it’s not. I was mad thoughtless. I totally get if you’re pissed at me.”

“I’m not pissed at you.”

Riley stopped at that, tugging Drake to a halt as well and pulling him around to face her directly. “Drake, come on. I fucked up.”

He gave her a little shrug and shook his head. “It’s not a big deal. I spent the last couple of Christmases in a bar anyway. At least you’ll be there too this year.”

“You spent your last Christmases in a bar?”

Drake ran his free hand through his hair as he shrugged again. “Well… yeah? Liam always had royal duties on the actual holiday, and after Savannah left, it’s not like I had anyone else to celebrate with or anything.”

Hearing how his most recent Christmases had been spent, Riley found herself feeling even shittier somehow. He finally had a chance at a festive and happy celebration, and she had ruined it. Her expression must have shifted enough to show some pity, because Drake shook his head. “Come on, it wasn’t so bad. Besides, you were the one who just said she was forced to work a bunch of Christmases in a row. That’s way worse than just grabbing a few drinks at a bar and calling it a night.”

“I didn’t have to work; I always offered.”

“You what?”

“I always volunteered if my managers asked, and if they didn’t, I switched with coworkers who had kids or families.”

“Tips that good on Christmas?”

“I mean, I usually got a customer or two that left a lot due to ‘holiday spirit’ or some shit, but it was more that I didn’t have anything better to do.” Riley kicked the toe of her boot against the sidewalk, her eyes pulling away from Drake’s gaze. She was trying to be better about acknowledging the painful parts of her past she would rather forget, but she still didn’t really like to talk about things like this. It tended to dredge up a slew of memories that she’d worked hard to put behind her.

“Liu… Riley,” Drake said, the switch to her first name prompting her to glance back up from her feet to his face. “When was the last time you had anyone to celebrate Christmas with?”

She bit her lip and let out a sigh. She knew that it wasn’t fair that Drake opened up to her about his past quite a bit while she still kept a lot of things to herself, but that didn’t make these things easy to talk about. “When I was 17. I was with the Andersons during one of my mom’s last prison stints before I aged out of the system. They were excited to finally get a chance to be foster moms since New York finally recognized their marriage from Vermont, so they kind of made it a big deal. I was so closed off by that point, though, that I didn’t really appreciate it.”

Drake just looked at her for a few moments before he tugged her into a hug, wrapping his arms around her back as he held her tight to his chest. “Why do you let me whine about my past when you had things so much worse?” he mumbled into her hair.

She let out a sigh, returning his hug as she hooked her arms around him. “It’s not a competition, Drake. It’s not like either of us had that cheesy Norman Rockwell holiday experience.”

He didn’t say anything else, just ran his hand along her spine. After a few moments, they stepped apart, hands locking back together as they continued along back to their apartment.

“You know,” Drake said, “back when I was growing up, my dad worked every Christmas.”

Based on his tone, Riley knew he was trying to make her feel better about the fact that she’d agreed to work the holiday, but it honestly made things worse. Not only were his recent Christmases crappy, but so were his childhood ones, apparently. “God, I’m so sorry. If I had known you had a history of having people work on the-”

“No, that wasn’t my point!” he interrupted. “We made the 26th ‘Walker Christmas’ and we did the whole celebration then. Gifts, big meal, holiday movies, all of it. It was really fun and special. Even after he died and we could have just celebrated on the actual holiday, Savannah and I kept the tradition alive for a long time.”

“Really?”

“Yup. As we got older, Sav usually got us invited to some sort of fancy Christmas party with some of the nobles on the 24th or 25th, but the 26th just stayed our family day. I always loved that it was our tradition to celebrate then.”

She glanced over at him, wondering not for the first time how she had managed to find someone like him. Someone who didn’t seem fazed or flustered by any of her baggage, who somehow showed he cared without making it seem like a big deal. Maybe it was because they had enough similarities in their pasts that he “got it,” but that honestly seemed like it was selling him short. Because it went deeper than shared mommy issues and fears of abandonment. The way he treated her felt like so much more than similar traumas, and she sometimes didn’t know how to respond, so caught off guard by a level of compassion and understanding she would have never thought possible.

“You’re too nice to me,” she finally settled on, watching as Drake’s cheeks grew pinker than they had been from just the winter wind.

He shook his head. “Nah, it’s really nothing, Liu.”

She knew that wasn’t true, but she didn’t push him. She knew he wanted to just move forward and not make a big deal of things. So she stepped closer to him, bumping him with her shoulder as she gave his hand a squeeze. “So, what do we need to do to make it a true Walker Christmas?”

“Not let you anywhere near the oven to start.”

She elbowed him and shook her head as Drake chuckled. “I am not that bad of a cook.”

“Uh huh. Sure, Liu. How many times have you made gingerbread?” She just scowled at him, prompting him to laugh again. “Exactly. So I’ll take care of the cooking and baking.”

All Riley could do was roll her eyes as they kept walking along the sidewalk. “I don’t really have any decorations,” she said, “And I don’t think we’ll exactly have space for a tree.”

“Ehh, I bet we can still make it festive. It’ll be good, Liu.”

His steadiness and willingness to just roll with her screw up and make the best of it had made her a little emotional. She didn’t quite understand why someone like him had been treated like shit by so many people in his life, but all she could really do was be grateful that their paths had crossed. “You sure you’re okay with celebrating late?” she asked as they reached their building, dropping his hand to find her keys in her purse.

“Christmas isn’t really about a day on the calendar,” he said with a shrug, following her into the lobby.

She spun and kissed him lightly before starting up the stairs. “Thank you, Drake.”

“Of course, Liu. Of course.”

Perma: @walkerswhiskeygirl @octobereighth @kimmiedoo5 @mom2000aggie

TRR/TRH: @iaminlovewithtrr @mskaneko @axwalker @jovialyouthmusic @marshmallowsandfire @kingliam2019 @sirbeepsalot @texaskitten30 @princessleac1 @ladyangel70 @debramcg1106 @masterofbluff @sarahx206

Drake/MC: @no-one-u-know @iplaydrake

ICWAM: @thequeenchoices @sunnyxdazed @sammie0220

#drake walker #drake x mc #trr au #trr au fanfic #trr fanfic

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amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines · 4 years

Text

Steve//can’t make it all alone

hey! oof, third part already. and happy 2nd christmas! i hope all of you had a wonderful day yesterday!!! and i hope you’re all having another lovely day today! stay safe everyone!

“So, do you want me to drop you off at home?” Officer Powell asks.

Christmas is officially over, but for Steve it was over as soon as you walked away. He watches the sun rise over another day...another day that you’re still out there somewhere.

Another day wasted.

While Steve was sat in a dingy room, with cream walls and ageing furniture, being asked the same three questions over and over again, he hoped his friends were out looking for you.

But when nobody interrupted the little chat he was having to let him know you’d been found, he slowly lost hope, until there was just a hole where his heart used to be.

You’re somewhere out there by yourself, instead of lying beside him in bed, already reminiscing about the previous day and ignoring calls from your parents to get up.

“Can you just take me to The Wheelers?” He mumbles, staring down at his hands. His finger nails have been chewed down to as short as they can. It’s a habit Steve picked up from you.

You’ve always been a nail biter when nervous, and Steve tried everything to get you to stop, he even learnt how to paint nails so he could do yours in the hopes it would stop you from chewing. It was also just an excuse to spend more time with you, even if it meant he had to listen to Robin complaining about being used for practice.

But instead of stopping you from ruining your nails, he ended up developing the same coping mechanism as you did. Now he’s surprised there’s any finger left at all.

“The Wheelers?” Powell asks surprised and glances at Steve through the mirror. He doesn’t bother to look back at him, but he can feel his eyes on him and he knows for a fact as soon as he gets back to the station he’s going to tell everyone that’ll listen.

“Yeah.” He nods and leans his head against the cold glass, his eyes scan the houses as they pass, hoping he’ll catch a glimpse of you. A clue as to where you’ve gone, where you’re hiding.

You’ll be standing outside The Wheelers, in your bright red jumper with your arms crossed and an annoyed expression on your face, but you’ll be safe and alive and that’s all he wants. He doesn’t care how upset you are with him, he just wants you back.

Instead he just see’s people twitching their curtains and spending far too long putting the bins out, in order to see what’s happening. News of a missing girl travels fast around town, especially because of its history, and by now, everyone will know about you and you’re broken necklace.

He knew coming back to Hawkins would end in disaster at some point. He always thought of it as taunting it, like he was saying ‘we’re back but you can’t get to us’, well now it has, whatever it is, and he hates himself for letting it happen to you.

He doesn’t know what’s scarier though, if it’s something thats crawled out of the Upside Down, or if it isn’t. There’s every possibility that an actual person could have taken you too, and neither of those options fill him with hope.

The first person he see’s when they pull into the drive is Joyce, stood outside with a cigarette in her hand while she paces. She lifts her head up at at the sound of car and quickly drops it.

He’s only seen Joyce once since he’s been back, and that was before everything went to shit. He remembers Dustin telling him over the phone, that Will and El were coming back home to spend Christmas with everyone. And that because of Nancy and Jonathan, The Wheelers had told Joyce, Will and El they could stay with them over Christmas.

The months leading up to Christmas, everyone was so excited, you included. The whole gang was going to be back together, even if it was just for a week. And he remembers how happy you looked when he told you, you didn’t stop talking about how perfect the week was going to be.

You couldn’t wait to tell them the good news going on in yours and Steve’s lives, but now within a night it’s all been snatched away. Instead of celebrating, Steve feels like he’s mourning, despite you not being dead.

“Here you go.” Powell says and Steve forces a small smile while opening the door. “Don’t go too far.” He warns and Steve looks away, slipping the car.

Joyce pulls him into a tight hug and he feels himself breathe a little. She smells like cigarette smoke and lavender and it fills him with the tiniest bit of comfort, but the way she’s hugging him, like she’s holding something back, rips it away almost as quickly as he feels it.

“Are you okay sweetheart?” She asks and looks him over. “Of course you’re not. Come on, we need to tell you something.” She says and guides him into the house and down into the basement.

He passes Karen and Ted, both of whom are busy doing who knows what. Karen is sat at the kitchen island, sorting through a stack of papers, her hair is messy and Steve thinks its the first time he’s seen her in her pyjamas. Ted stands on the other side of the room, talking quietly into the phone. He looks just as stressed as his wife, but they both stop what they’re doing when they hear footsteps and force a smile at Steve.

“I’ll bring you down some food sweetie.” Karen is the first to break the tension and he gives her a grateful, yet crooked smile.

“Thank you.” He mumbles and looks back at the floor. Karen and Joyce share a look before Joyce continues to guide him down the stairs.

The last time he came down the stairs, his head was too full to actually take anything in. Now though, it feels too busy and empty all at the same time, and so he takes a minute to actually look around.

The basement hasn’t changed since Mike moved out. Old toys are still strewn about, Dungeons and Dragons sit open in the corner, now with about twelve other things piled on top of it, but it’s still there.

It feels like he’s walking into a piece of history, frozen in time. The sleeping bags and blankets have been rolled up and thrown in the other corner of the room, and any traces of alcohol from Christmas Eve have disappeared.

The whole party is crammed into the space. Chairs have been stollen from upstairs so everyone has a place to sit, but as soon as they hear floorboards creaking they’re all standing up.

Nobody knows what or how they’re going to say it.

They thought they were done fighting monsters and losing loved ones. But it seems no matter how far they run, it always follows. Maybe its their own fault for coming back. They thought Starcourt was the final battle, but this seems like some sort of hidden ending and they’re hating every single second of it.

“Steve.” Robin starts gently and everyone, including herself hates it. Robin never speaks to Steve like that, she never even calls him Steve. It’s always dingus or some variant of it.

But the tone in her voice and the look on her face makes everyone realize just how bad this is.

“Sit down.” She says and tries guide him to the chair closest.

“I’m fine.” He shrugs her hands off him. “Have you found her?” He asks, his voice rising with each word and they look at each other.

“No, we haven’t.” Mike continues and takes step towards him. “We went out looking, and well...”

“We found goo on a tree near where her necklace was found.” Dustin sighs.

“Goo?” Steve asks, staring straight at him.

“A portal.” Jonathan says and even he’s unsure of how to say it nicely.

“To the Upside Down.” Eleven pipes up. It’s the first time she’s spoken to anyone since Steve, Robin and Annie turned up this morning. “She’s there, I can feel it.”

Everyone looks at her, their worst fears being confirmed and Steve feels the air being ripped out of his lungs.

“Are you sure?” He asks, the question surprising himself and El nods slowly.

For four years she’s worked on getting her powers back, but she’s never longed for them more than she does right now. You may not have been in her life for very long, but you certainly made an impression on her, and you’re always there when she needs you.

She can’t see you, but she knows you’re there. She can feel it and she’s never been more certain about anything. But she can also feel something else, she can’t quite place it, but something is wrong. Something isn’t quite right about you disappearing.

“Yes.” She says, louder than before and he sits down and runs a hand through his hair. “Okay.” He nods slowly and looks around. “Lets go.” He stands and starts towards the stairs.

Everyone moves at the same time, all of them not wanting him to do something stupid.

“Woah!” Dustin grabs his arm and pulls him back. Robin blocks the stairs and he gives her a look she’s never seen before. His eyes narrow and darken and his jaw clenches as he stares at her.

“Move out my way Robin.” He mutters.

“No.” She replies and crosses her arms. Annie stands beside her, also crossing her arms and they give him the ‘steve’ look making him huff in annoyance.

“Move.” He says once again forcing it through gritted teeth before trying to push past her, but she stands her ground, and suddenly he feels himself being pulled away from her.

Dustin and Mike hold his arms tightly and he quickly pushes them away. He knows they’re trying to help, but he knows where you are and it’s like they’re trying to keep him from saving you.

He also hates the way they’re looking at him, at least with Robin, it’s a look he’s used to seeing. But everybody else’s is new. It’s all sympathy and pity and he doesn’t like it. It makes him feel like they know something he doesn’t, like you’re gone forever and he’s doesn’t know yet.

“Steve.” Joyce says sternly. She holds his shoulders, forcing him to look at her. “If you go in there with nothing, you’re not going to come out again, and then what?”

He knows she’s right, but it does little to comfort him.

“So what? We just sit around and wait for he to get out herself or to just die.” He snaps back but it doesn’t seem to bother her.

“No.” She shakes her head. “We figure out what it wants. We go in prepared and we get her out.”

“But-She’s in there alone.” He cries and she wraps her arms around him, pulling him into another tight hug.

The group exchange glances, none of them know what to do. How do you comfort a friend who’s girlfriend of 4 years has been dragged into an alternate dimension that creatures pulled from hell call home.

It’s also the first time they’ve seen Steve cry, some of them ever, and its a weird sight. They all have a silent conversation, trying to get somebody to say something useful, but its no use, Steve’s sobs echo off the walls while everyone stands around awkwardly.

The top step creaks but Steve doesn’t seem to notice, Nancy shakes her head at her mom standing by the door with a plate full of food, and she nods before quietly leaving again.

“I’ve been in there, and it’s not that bad.” Will pipes up and everyone stares at him, eyebrows raised. “Okay, maybe it is that bad.” He sighs, and sits down. “But, think about it, I was only a kid when I was there and I’m fine.”

“Debatable.” Dustin mumbles and everyone glares at him.

“Shut up.” Max slaps the back of his head.

“Would you like me to tell your mom what really happened to Mews.” Will retorts, and Dustin pauses rubbing his head to stare at him.

“You wouldn’t.” He narrows his eyes at his friend.

“I would.”

“Guys.” Lucas interrupts and stares at each of them. “Not the time.”

“Yeah, get to the point.” Mike adds annoyed.

“My point is.” Will continues, making sure to glare at Dustin before looking at Steve. “I came out of there alive, and I was just a kid. Y/n, is a grown woman, who’s dealt with much worse. She’ll be fine.”

“She’s probably made whatever took her, her bitch by now.” Lucas says and forces a laugh. “You saw how she took down that demodog that was trying to make Steve it’s lunch.” He adds, and for the first time in three days Steve feels himself smile.

It’s a nice break in the tension, the entire group sharing a smile and laugh as they think of you. The story is famous in your group, even Joyce knows it.

You saved Steve’s life without knowing what was happening. And how when you’d finished beating the crap out of it, you called it a bitch and then apologized.

“Yeah, she’ll going around smashing the place up and then saying sorry afterwards.” Robin says, placing a hand on his shoulder and he feels himself relax a little.

The little moment of joy is soon gone though. Every single one of them have the same thought.

What if that’s a story no longer told with happiness. What if it’s told out of grief, as they stand around a casket all dressed in black, clinging on to the memories of a life that should have been way longer.

A very, very short life.

Steve clears his throat and moves away from Joyce.

“Okay, what do we know?” He asks, looking at each of them individually. He doesn’t want to think about what’s happened to you, what could be happening to you an-

So does the only thing he knows how to. He gets ready to fight.

“We know that something must have happened in order for it to wake back up again.” Joyce replies and gives him a reassuring smile.

“Why wake back up? Why not just come back?” Max asks.

“Because how can it come back after Starcourt.” Will replies. “We blew the whole mall up. Whatever took Y/n must have been hiding and healing. I’ve been there, I know what it’s like.”

“Okay. So something disturbed it?” Mike asks. “What though?”

“Us?” Nancy asks. “No.”She shakes her head, answering her own question. “We’ve been here countless of times, so what’s so different this time?”

“Y/-” Steve starts but Jonathan interrupts him, and he feels himself shrink. Maybe its a good thing he didn’t tell them, it just doesn’t feel right without you.

“Nothing has happened here in years.” He says. “Or maybe it has, and we just haven’t noticed.”

“My mom says the only difference is the weather.” Mike shrugs.

“Yeah, my mom says the same thing.” Dustin agrees and Steve sends him a confused look.

“What do you mean the weather?” Annie asks.

She’s still piecing together the story that Robin and the rest of the gang told her while Steve was at the police station. The words Upside Down and mind-flayer keep coming up, and don’t get her started on El and her lost powers. That’s something she’s locked in a box for future her to deal with.

“Really? Out of everything I’ve told you, you’re confused about the weather?” Robin teases, and she rolls her eyes at her.

“Shut up.” She nudges her ribs gently. “Has anyone else’s parents noticed a change in the weather?” She asks and slowly, everyone nods their head.

“It does seem a bit windier.” Joyce says. “I’ve lived here my whole life, I know what winter is like here, but this time...its different.”

“Could that not be because you moved though?” Dustin asks.

“No. I know this town like the back of my hand. Something’s off.”

“Listen.” Steve snaps. They’re getting absolutely no where with this conversation and he knows it. “I don’t care about the wind or the rain or the snow. I don’t care what’s taken her and why. I just want to get her back.” The effects of not sleeping for 48 hours seem to be catching up with him. Tiredness hits him like a truck and he feels it settle in his bones.

“Steve.” Robin starts.

“What?” He mumbles annoyed.

“Why don’t you go to sleep.” She suggests gently but he just glares at her. “Or have something to eat.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “The quicker we come up with a plan, the quicker we can get her back.”

“True.” Robin starts. “But we don’t know how long it’s going to take. And you’re going to be no help if you’re falling asleep and starving.” She finishes and he hates that she’s right. But the need to save you far outweighs the need to eat or sleep. He’d go for years without if it meant getting you back.

‘its all your fault’ The little voice says again and with each day it grows louder, Steve sometimes feels like its the only thing he can hear.

It is his fault. It’s all his fault, and whether you do come back or not, he’s going to carry this guilt around with him for the rest of his life.

“Please Steve.” She says, she’s clearly worried, not only about the friend that’s missing, but the one sat right in front of her.

“Have some rest and while you’re asleep we’ll keep planning.” Annie finishes and places a hand on Robin’s arm.

“We’ll even go out looking again.” Mike says.

“We’re not going to give up just because you’ve fallen asleep.” Dustin smiles. “We promise. We love Y/n, just as much as you do.” He thinks about it for a few minutes, before finally agreeing.

“I’ll eat, but I’m not sleeping.” He says and everyone lets out a collective sigh of relief.

“Okay.” Joyce nods, her motherly instincts kicking in again. “Why don’t you go sit over on that sofa, and I’ll get you some food.” She smiles kindly and he nods, before pushing himself up and towards the sofa.

Everyone moves around him. Joyce goes upstairs, and is quickly followed by Mike and Jonathan.

Dustin, Lucas, Max and Will huddle in a circle, dragging their chairs with them and Steve listens to their quiet mumbles about the upside down and the mind flayer.

Nancy, Robin and Annie stay by the staircase, he know’s they’re hanging around just in case he tries to make a run for it, and their not to subtle glances at him don’t make it any less obvious.

And El sits alone in the corner closest to Steve. She stares at a picture of you smiling along with the rest of the gang and Steve’s heart aches at the sight. Everyone is grinning at who he assumes is Joyce, and Steve stands beside you, his arm slung over your shoulder, his smile as bright as yours.

Steve watches her close her eyes as she desperately tries to find where you are. But no matter how hard she tries, she can’t seem to focus. It’s been four years since she lost her powers, they’re not going to miraculously come back.

He can feel the fatigue settling even deeper into his bones making him feel heavier than he already does. But every time he closes his eyes, all he can picture is you, scared and alone and calling out for him.

Upstairs, he can hear Joyce and Karen talking quietly as they walk around the kitchen and every so often he hears Jonathan and Mike join in.

Steve just sits.

He sits and stares straight ahead, imagining the worst.

You could be dead, or dying, or even worse you could not be you anymore. You could have turned into whatever Billy was. That thought alone is enough for him to loose his breath and he chokes on a sob, his head falls into his hands as he quietly cries.

He’s never going to see you again.

Tears stream down his face and stain his jeans, but he doesn’t bother to wipe them away, what’s the point. He’s been wearing the same clothes since Christmas Eve, they already smell like the stale coffee thanks to the police station, so what’s a few tears? And it’s not like he hasn’t had worse on his clothes, blood and puke come to mind.

“Steve?” Nancy’s voice is quiet as she sits next to him.

Robin and Annie have moved to sit with the kids to talk about what to do. And Nancy was going to join them, but as soon as she looked at Steve, she decided she could try and be helpful elsewhere.

You would never forgive her if she let something happen to him while you were gone. After the events of 1984, you and Nancy became rather close, despite what had happened between her and Steve. All of you knew what had happened between them, however painful, was in the past.

Or at least that’s what she thought. Of course she knows Steve feels nothing for her other than a platonic love, but it must have hurt to be called the name of his ex. Especially when everyone knows how messily that ended.

Nancy can’t help but share some guilt with Steve. It was her name that caused you to storm off in the first place, and even though she knows she can’t go back in time and un-do everything, she really wishes she could.

She hands him a warm mug of coffee and he takes it but doesn’t look at her, he just stares at the brown liquid and feels himself sink deeper into his thoughts. He didn’t even notice her leaving to get one, too wrapped up in his own guilt and depressing thoughts.

“She’ll be okay.” She tries her best to comfort him but he just scoffs at her and takes sip.

“How do you know that? She’s in there, with god knows what running around.” He seethes. “And what are we doing? We’re sat around drinking coffee and talking about our feelings.”

“We’re not talking about or feelings Steve.” She sighs and watches Dustin draw on an old map.

“I know, but I know you’re going to talk about yours.”

“I’ll let that pass under the circumstances.” She rolls her eyes. “But when Y/n comes back...and she will come back. I will kick your ass.”

“I don’t doubt it.” He replies and a small smile twitches at the corner of his lips. She feels the weight in her chest lighten a little, but his only gets heavier.

He shouldn’t be sat here laughing with his ex girlfriend, while his current one is lost out there.

‘its all your fault. she wouldn’t be in there if it wasn’t for you’

“Do you think it’s my fault?” He asks and everyone pauses what they’re doing.

“No.” Nancy shakes her head and forces a smile.

“It’s not your fault Steve. You didn’t ask for her to be taken did you?” Robin asks.

“Well no, bu-”

“And did you tell her to go in there?” Dustin interrupts.

“No, but I-”

“And did you know what would happen to her before having that argument?” Jonathan adds while walking down the stairs. It’s the first time in what feels like a long time he’s said something remotely nice to him, and it does make him feel a little better.

“No.”

“Well then it’s not your fault.” He finishes and hands him a plate of food.

“Thanks.” He mumbles and stares down at the very late Christmas dinner.

This isn’t how he imagined he’d be eating his Christmas dinner this year, he imagined you beside him. Both of you in matching jumpers and paper crowns, telling each other stupid jokes out of crackers that no one but the two of you find funny.

“I miss her.” Robin says out of no where and everyone looks at her. Steve watches in shock as her lip wobbles and tears form in her eyes, he’s never seen Robin cry before, and when you come back, he’s so going to tell you that you made The Robin Buckley cry.

“Me too.” Dustin nods, giving her half a hug. Annie sits on the other side of her and leans her head on her shoulder.

“Yeah. Me too.” Everyone else agrees, sad smiles taking over their appearances.

“What am I going to do without her?” Steve sighs and places the plate on the floor.

“You’re not going to have to do without her.” Jonathan replies.

“And, I think you’re doing pretty well right now.” Robin adds and he lets out a bitter laugh. “Okay, maybe you’re doing okay then. But that’s still better most.” She finishes, sending him a toothy grin and a small smile flickers on his lips.

“Thanks.” He rolls his eyes.

“No problem.” She replies. “Now eat your food.” She adds, giving him a stern look.

“I will in a minute.” He slumps down in the sofa, his back hits the soft furniture and he lets out a sigh. Everyone goes back to talking quietly amongst themselves, although this time, they’re talking about you and he feels himself smile. It’s both happy and sad, but it’s real, and thats all that matters to him.

His eyes flutter shut as he hears Will come down the stairs, and the last thing he hears before he falls asleep is Robin...

“Okay, what do we do?”

#steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things #stranger things imagine

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ladynestaarcheron · 4 years

Text

Invisible String - Chapter Two

ao3 - ff.net - masterpost

(tagging these cuties: @iammissstark @sayosdreams @ncssian @westrangecollectionkoalaposts @queenestarcheron @nessiantrashh)

thank y’all so much for your kind words!! so happy to hear people are enjoying this. here’s chapter two!!

---

Her predicament is not new, but it's still a surprise for Nesta when she realizes if she wants to leave, she can simply go. She defers to no one, and hasn't for a while, but her lack of communication with Elain means something else: no one is going to miss her while she is gone.

She'll have to be quick. Feyre will notice, eventually, but there isn't anything odd about the pair of them not seeing each other for a week or so. And since there isn't anyone randomly, infuriatingly checking up on her anymore...

It stings more than she admits to herself.

But no matter. It's almost all behind her now.

With clothes packed enough for fortnight (she's certain she won't be gone that long, but it never hurts to be prepared), Nesta boards her carriage and waits.

A quiet, busy sort of air about her when she walks the streets of Velaris is enough to ensure no one try and talk to her, but evidently, the same is not promised for carriage rides. She supposes the only task she has to pretend to focus on is reading a book, and that's not enough to deter the passengers from incessant conversation.

"Are you traveling, Lady?" one asks her.

Obviously. "Yes," she answers.

"Will the High Lady be joining you?"

Ah, that didn't take long. She supposes she should be pleased--she can answer honestly, the faeries will all be disappointed and bored, and they'll leave her alone.

Alas.

"So are you in need of an escort, Lady?" a pretty female asks eagerly.

"No," she says, sharply. "Thank you," she adds.

"Are you traveling about the Court, Lady?"

"No," she says, hoping she sounds cryptic enough that they think they are not allowed to question further, "I have business elsewhere."

Delighted looks are exchanged amongst the young faeries, excited to have caught real Night Court fieldwork in the act.

Something moves inside of her, but Nesta's not sure what. She's not jealous, of course. She's never desired a career in politics in her life, she definitely doesn't want to start one now under Rhysand, and she certainly doesn't care enough for the well being of the people of this land to do so.

She's angry, she decides. Angry that these people are so taken with the Inner Circle.

Yes, that must be it.

There are magical checkpoints she passes, once she shows her papers and proves she's allowed to travel through five other Courts to get to Spring--most people on the journey seem to depart into Dawn and Summer, and by the time Nesta reaches the southernmost part of Prythian, she is alone.

"Good afternoon, Lady," the footmale says, bidding her goodbye. He and the carriage are gone before she can answer.

There's no point in dallying any longer, so she sets off on her way.

Spring is not as constructed as Night. There are no roads here--at least, not in this part of the Court--and Nesta can't see any buildings at all. Just a dirt path she walks along, with endless, lush green hills, rolling on either side of it. Thick-stemmed flowers of all kinds dot the grass, with fat bees fluttering from one to the next. Songbirds whistle to each other in the fruit trees. The air is almost dizzyingly sweet.

Nesta likes it, she decides. The quiet, the warmth. But probably not too many libraries.

She's not wearing a watch, but she guesses a half an hour of her walk has passed when the first sight of civilization comes into view. A metal gate in the middle of a dying hedge, encircling a mansion--an estate. White marble, with any number of ornate windows and patios and balconies.

Beautiful, but eerie, for every step she draws closer, the quieter it grows. There's not the barest trace of people inside, and even the birds can't be heard up the steps at the gash-ridden oak door.

She knocks, more out of habit than anything else. Of course, no one opens it, so she pushes it on her own.

Black and white checked flooring spills out to several doors and a vast staircase. Sunlight falls limply onto nothing, for any decor has been shoved away.

A door opens on her right. Nesta turns.

They only stare at each other for a minute, not speaking.

Tamlin looks worse than she remembers. Same golden hair, same gem-green eyes, but...thinner, perhaps, in his cheeks. Paler. Hollow.

Quite the same image she imagines others see when she looks at her, she realizes with a start.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, voice...devastated? But why?

Oh, she says to herself, the thought hitting her, he thought I was Feyre.

"You owe me a favor," she says.

He raises an eyebrow.

"Because this is your fault," she explains. "My...Hybern. So you owe me."

"Do I?"

She doesn't back down from his stare, only nods once.

"And who else do you blame? Or am I the only one?" His words are careful but she doesn't understand what he wants.

"You're all to blame," she says. "You're all murderers. None of you did a good enough job keeping humans safe. It's not my place to judge which of you is the most monstrous. I'm content to hate all of you quietly."

Tamlin chuckles--low, dark. "Not your place to judge?"

"Do you deny your role in my murder?" she snaps.

The shadow-grin on his face fades. "No," he says.

"Then help me."

His shoulders tense. "What do you want?"

Nesta inhales deeply. "You struck a deal with him...to undo the mating bond. Between my sister and Rhysand."

Tamlin stops breathing.

"I want to know how to do that."

He doesn't answer her. Stays silent for a full minute, before she presses on.

"Tell me how to do that."

"You're trying to--destroy--whose?" He is desperate, searching.

Her jaw clenches tightly. "That doesn't concern you."

"You can't."

"You thought it could be done, obviously. That's why you were willing to give us to Hybern--"

"I didn't--"

"--so just tell me."

He glares at her, and Nesta wonders, briefly, if she should be concerned. But she's too angry to be nervous. Her world has been thrown off its axis too many times now and this is something she knows she can fix. She has to.

"Don't you think," he says, through gritted teeth, "if I knew of any way to undo a mating bond, I would have done it myself?"

Nesta doesn't bother stifling her eye roll. "But how did you think he was going to do it?"

"I don't know." He looks to the side, to the nothing that lays beyond the manor. "I don't know what I thought."

Nesta does not have time for his introspection nor does she care. She puts her hands on her hips. "Well, who can I go to, then?"

Tamlin looks at her, surprised, as if he'd forgotten she's still here. "I suppose...you can catch a Suriel."

A Suriel. Nesta remembers talk of one, during the war. Feyre had gone to find one. But that one is dead now, she knows.

"How do I do that?"

Tamlin loosens a frustrated sigh. "If I catch one for you, are we even? You'll consider our score settled?"

Nesta scoffs. "I will never consider our score settled. But rest assured, if you catch me this Suriel and it tells me how to undo a mating bond, I will never have any reason to come to Spring again."

His head tilts as he considers her words. "Fine," he says, grudgingly. He stalks past her, out the door and down the steps. "Follow me."

She does, off the path and into a deceptively quiet grove that leads into an even more forbidding forest, and she doesn't know for how long--she really should get a watch--until he finally holds out his arm and says, without turning around, "Wait here."

He disappears into a thatch of shrubbery. Again, she wonders if she should be nervous. Tamlin's a High Lord--this land's High Lord. Surely, if she's here with him, nothing will attack her.

And there is also the matter of...herself.

A sharp hiss escapes the spot where Tamlin crossed into, and then he barks out, "Come here!"

Moving a fair bit of bush aside, Nesta steps into a small clearing. There's a quiet stream. Tamlin, beyond it, with his arms wrapped around...a Suriel.

Hunched over, beneath a robe that might have once been very finely embroidered, the creature looks up at her with eyes filled only with whites.

"For this you have caught me, High Lord?" it--he? She?--says, its cold voice making her flinch.

Tamlin rises, letting go of the Suriel. "She has something to ask you," he says flatly.

The Suriel doesn't run once he lets it go--scared of him or her? It only straightens out the collar of its robe with long gray fingers that appear as though they have been broken more than once. "What is it, Eve-daughter?"

It knows she was human. Once, at least.

No matter. That's not what she has come for.

"I want to know how to undo a mating bond," she says, keeping her voice even. "Please," she adds.

The Suriel clicks its tongue. "Most would consider such a bond a dearly loved gift."

Nesta bites her tongue. It won't do her any good to snap at this creature. "Can you tell me?" she asks.

"But you don't like anything gifted from the Cauldron, do you? No...you prefer your gifts stolen..."

Nesta's heart stutters. Tamlin looks on, curious, but she forces herself to keep eye contact with the Suriel. "Will you tell me?" she says, trying again.

Another hiss. "I can't tell you."

"But you know who can?" she presses, guessing at its linguistic trickery.

The Suriel bites its yellowed teeth together twice. "An old friend of yours, I would say."

An old friend...Amren? But Amren is only High Fae now, surely she doesn't have any powers like this anymore...and Amren's not an old friend. Only a former one.

"Call upon the one your sister bargained with," it says.

"Which one?" There are a great many, she suspects. Each deal more foolish than the last, she's certain. If she's come all the way to Spring just for a Suriel to tell her to go ask Rhysand--

"Bryaxis."

Oh.

Well.

"Where is Bryaxis now?" It had not returned to that library after the war.

"It'll come to you," the Suriel replies. "Call upon it."

Call upon...the only thing that Cassian fears.

Fine.

"What's that in your bag, Eve-daughter?"

Nesta looks down. "Clothes."

"Could you spare any?" it asks, clicking its fingers together.

She blinks. But she remembers all too well what it was like to be freezing, and is still at the mercy of stronger Fae, and she meant what she told Tamlin: they are all monsters here and she's not any authority on who amongst them is the worst.

"Sure," she says, and takes out the cloak she had brought. Simple. Charcoal gray, with purple hem so deep it's nearly black. She steels her arms as she extends it, willing herself not to show emotion when her fingers brush its.

The Suriel rises to its full height--taller than Nesta, obviously, but taller even than Tamlin. It slips off the tattered robe and lets it fall at its feet. Nesta's cloak hits its knees.

"Well," she says. "Goodbye, then." She turns on her heel and heads back through the bushes.

This time, Tamlin follows her. "Where are you going?" he asks.

"Back to Night." Where else can she go?

"You missed the last cross-Court carriage of the day. I'm not winnowing you there."

Her steps only falter slightly. "Well. I packed for this. Where's an inn?"

"You can stay at my estate."

This causes Nesta to stop and turn to him. "What do you think this is about?"

He doesn't miss a beat. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You are not coming with me to see Bryaxis. This is not about my sister."

He flinches. "I know that," he says, voice low, rough. "I...I let her go. Weren't you there?"

When Rhysand died, he means. "I don't care," she says honestly.

"You can stay at my home for tonight," he says again. "See Bryaxis in the morning."

Nesta thinks about it. Is staying in Tamlin's home worse than staying in Rhysand's?

No.

But she still doesn't want to.

"No," she says to him. "I won't come ask you for anything again. You can consider us square, if you like."

So for the second time, she turns and leaves him. This time, he does not follow.

When the sun sets, Nesta stops walking. This was a good idea, she thinks, even as her heart beats in her throat. It's good precisely because of her fear. Her fear of being alone in a strange land, at night, with no sense of direction, and no way to get back until tomorrow.

Because now, what choice does she have but to go to Bryaxis.

Hoping her walk has helped to summon some nerve, Nesta lays her bag down neatly at her feet and smooths her hair. She clears her throat.

"Bryaxis," she says, the stupidity she feels stronger than any scariness, "I call upon you."

She stands there, looking out onto flowing hills and nothing else, feeling foolish, at best.

Perhaps Tamlin had offered her a kindness. A safe place for the night. Then she could have taken a carriage back in the morning and swallowed her pride and asked Amren for help finding Bryaxis.

Her spine straightens suddenly--only then does she hear. Her body recognizes it before her mind.

"Nesta Archeron," it says, from behind her.

She does not turn to look, keeps herself focused on a spot on a distant hill. "Hello," she says.

"You have grown thinner," it notes.

"I can't be sure, but I imagine you look much the same." The words are out before she can stop them.

But--Bryaxis laughs. Dark, shivering, under her bones. But a laugh, all the same.

Not so terrifying, she thinks. Just...stare ahead. Don't turn around. She can do that.

"To what do I owe the pleasure? So far from...your home."

"The Night Court is not my home."

"Oh?" it asks, mildly interested. "So where would it be?"

She hesitates. "I...am from the south of the island."

"Is that your home?"

Nesta exhales slowly. The Suriel had called her Eve-daughter, had it not? Why shouldn't she be allowed to claim human lands as hers?

"But I believe you have a question for me, Nesta Archeron."

"I do." Nesta takes another deep breath. "I want to undo my mating bond."

"That's not a question."

"...can you undo my mating bond?"

"I can."

She almost wishes she could turn around. Almost.

"Will you?" she asks, and pinches her fingers.

"Neither you nor I come from the Night Court," Bryaxis says, "but we have both found ourselves residing there, have we not?"

"I...yes." Small talk with this demon...is that the price to say? To ensure her sister's happiness, get her to speak to her again?

"A special history of bargains in the Night Court. Your sister broke ours, you know."

Nesta stiffens. "You left. How could she fulfill it?"

That laugh again. "Perhaps you can fulfill it for her."

She hesitates, bringing her hand up to touch her hair. "What...would you like me to do?"

"Tell me why you want your bond broken."

Sucking in her bottom lip, Nesta tugs a lock of her hair out of its coronet. "It was only given to me to hurt me. Because my sister cares for him."

"Tell me why, Nesta Archeron."

She closes her eyes. Do it, she commands herself. Just--say it, just this once, and then it'll be over.

Eyes still shut tight, she nods slowly. "The bond...hurts me because it hurts Elain because she cares for Azriel. And it hurts me..." Just say it, you stupid girl. "...because I...care for his brother." Her voice cracks, barely a whisper on the last word.

Her cheeks heat up. There--she's admitted it. She's said it.

Oh, she--she hates this. Hates it so much. She hates him. For everything he's done to her. How he treats her, even though he makes her feel--how he makes her feel! Far too many ways!

Everything about him. His hair and his eyes and his skin and his arms and his stupid smirk and his vile tongue and every single one of his fingertips and his scent and his thighs and his shoulders and--

"There, Nesta Archeron," Bryaxis says softly. "That's it."

Nesta fists her hands together. "Will you just end it now?"

"Certainly," it says. Something cool reaches out and caresses her cheek. "Face me."

The touch is gentle, almost loving. Not scary. Not threatening. So she does.

The gentleness ends there--it all goes dark.

When she opens her eyes, the sun is rising...in the Night Court.

"Good morning, Nesta Archeron," Bryaxis says from behind her.

Nesta pushes up off the ground. She's dressed in one of the night-things she brought in her bag.

"I brought you to this place neither of us call home," it says. "Our bargain is done."

She reaches down to pick a cardigan out of her bag, but her arms are shaking. That same touch from before--gentle, sweet--picks it and helps her put it on.

"Thank you," she says, her voice coming out in a whisper. She tries to swallow, but it burns.

"You should go to the High Lord's house. They're all waiting for you." Bryaxis pushes her a bit forward. Not roughly, just enough to get her legs moving on their own again. "Call upon me again, Nesta Archeron...when you'd like."

Bryaxis' essence disappears. Without looking behind her, she knows it is gone.

Strange looks punctuate her on her walk to Feyre's home. The High Lady's sister, dressed in a nightdress, clutching a travel bag. All she wants to is get back to her apartment and shower off the past day, but if they're all waiting for her...she supposes it can wait.

She wants to see Elain, anyway. Wants to show her...how much she loves her. What she did for her.

Bryaxis had been kind, though. Had hidden most of the pain from her. Only the aftermath remains, like the hollowness she always feels after her cycle, or shaking after being sick.

She stops dead in her tracks and gasps violently. The hollowness...it's not hollowness at all. It's...wholeness. Because she's whole. She's alone.

The mating bond is gone.

A laugh--a real laugh, carefree and joyous--escapes her. For the first time in...she can't remember how long. Every step after is easier, lighter. And she is more eager to take it. Elain awaits. Elain and...

She practically skips up to the riverfront manor, not able to fully suppress the small smile on her face as she throws the door open. She starts to call her sister's name, but the sight in the front room cuts her off.

Elain is there, with Feyre. Elain lies in the latter's lap, shaking slightly. Rhysand sits behind Feyre, on the floor, his hand on her back. Her tear-stained face is still. Azriel sits on a chair, arms propped up on his lap and head buried in his palms. Morrigan sits on a couch by Amren, who stares blankly at the wall.

It is Amren who first looks up and sees her. She inhales sharply, which makes them all, one by one, look to her...and then to what she is staring at. Nesta.

Elain notices last, her face still at Feyre's legs. With their younger sister's soft cry, Elain picks up her head and turns.

She bolts upright. Nesta jerks back for her suddenness. She is wrecked.

"Nesta?" she breathes.

Nesta looks around. "What?" she says, uncomfortable and bewildered.

"You..." Elain reaches out a hand. She stumbles a few feet forward, and touches Nesta's cheek. Clammier than Bryaxis, and not nearly as gentle. "You're alive."

Morrigan rises next. "I'm going to find Cassian," she says, to no one in particular. "Tell him..." She gives Nesta a look of--fright?--and scurries out of the house.

Quite suddenly, Nesta comes back to herself. "What is going on?" she demands.

Elain draws her hands back towards herself, looking at her fingers, as if she thinks they are not real, either.

"Feyre, it's okay," Rhys says to her sister, who has gone very white.

"What is going on?" she says again.

It's Azriel who answers, standing up fast. Far too fast. "You...were...dead."

"I...what?" Nesta asks. "What are you--oh."

The bond...when it had...because she had not told them.

Oh.

Perhaps...this has not been her best thought out plan, she thinks.

"Well," she says. "I'm...I'm not dead." She looks to Azriel. "I...undid the bond."

Every one of them-like they're all puppets on a string controlled by one person-tenses at the same time. In any other situation, it would be funny.

But it's this situation. So all that happens is Elain, bursting into hysterical tears, and running away.

No, Nesta decides. Not her best thought out plan.

#nesta archeron #nessian #azriel #good news for all you bryaxis fans out there! lol #hope bryaxis is okay and we get to see them in acosf actually

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scullydubois · 4 years

Text

Only the Light Ch. 14

As the new year beckons Scully to put her life back together, she and Mulder share a Valentine's 'anti-date' on the Hoover Building rooftop.

TW for brief discussion of disordered eating.

--------------

The new year struck Scully with a particular melancholy. 1994 was, to put it plainly, one of the worst--if not the worst--year of her life. Even without her disappearance, it would earn that title. Her father’s untimely passing and the brief but brutal closure of the X-Files wrenched the few good things left from her fingers. Factor in the four weeks in late summer that she has no memory nor knowledge of, and you’ll understand why Scully has taken to calling it her year on the dark side of the moon.

Of course, the aftershocks of her abduction are still felt every day. Flipping the calendar does nothing to remedy that. At her last appointment, Dr. Zapolsky noticed that Scully’s weight had decreased rather sharply from previous visits and made the point that “rapid weight loss can stop ovulation,” which Scully interpreted as kicking her while she was down. That’s not exactly fair, after all. Technically, her period stopped well before she decided to restrict herself.

It’s odd how it happened. Her weight was fine before her abduction; slender but within the healthy range for her height. Even when she was returned, it had only dropped a couple pounds, as if they fed her...as if they cared. She found that hard to believe. In the months afterward, she sought a physical representation of her mental anguish, and since she and food were never on the best terms to begin with, the choice was simple.

The other day, she had to punch an extra hole in all her belts to hold them steady on her hips. She knows the consequences of this; she’ll live them and accept it.

There has been some beneficial progress. Dr. Zapolsky started Scully on low-dose birth control around Thanksgiving, hoping that it would balance her hormones and regulate her periods. It has, in fact, brought back her cycle, something that Scully did not expect. She gave Melissa her leftover tampons in October. Now Melissa buys enough for the two of them and insists that Scully doesn’t owe her a dime. Scully is too grateful for this to speak about it.

Her downward spiral reached a snag when she realized that smoking would make her birth control ineffective, shortly after her and Mulder’s Christmas Eve smoke break. She ditched the cigarettes, mad at herself for taking a month to read the disclaimer (she’s a doctor for god’s sake, she should know better!), yet glad to have an out. Smoking was a habit she exercised because she could. It won’t hurt her anytime soon, and millions of others do it, so where’s the harm? That was her thinking. As soon as she had a reason to stop, she did, and it felt a bit like jumping from a runaway train just before it skids off the tracks.

So she is better, and she is worse. Which really means she is the same as she was. That is the conclusion she carries into 1995’s frosts and thaws.

There is one thing she is certain of, something that she hadn’t given much thought to until the one year anniversary of her father’s death. She needs her faith back. She’s always practiced in a cyclical pattern, her devoutness orbiting in and out like the moon around the Earth. Sometimes closer and brighter, sometimes farther away, sometimes nowhere to be found.

She has to believe it will come back; it always does. She was made in God’s image, and her father’s. This is both a blessing and a curse.

But no one can be God, and she can’t be her father either. His faith never wavered. If hers was the moon--fickle and subject to doubt--his was the sun, steady and warming everything around it. This was a quality she was envious of, and then guilty in her blasphemy. She has never managed to feel completely content inside the bounds of piety like he could. She’s constantly shaking the devil off her back, then repenting for it, then wondering if it were all worth it. What if...what if...what if...she isn’t fully persuaded in her beliefs, and she knows that this is the worst sin of all. Like Mulder though, she wants to believe, and shouldn’t that count for something?

Imperfection is allowed. Understood, even. Doubt is not as permissible. “He who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind,” the Bible says. Sometimes Scully takes that to mean she should walk into the ocean. Then she realizes that would be blasphemous too.

Some people believe without trying. Her father was one of those. Mulder too, in a different way. She used to think that she was too. Now she’s not so sure. “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” How many times has she read that line? Has she ever lived up to it? She’s seen and still not believed. Certainly that means she’s going to Hell.

Or is she already there?...She wonders that sometimes. Maybe she didn’t make it back from the other side. Maybe the devil just wanted her to believe that she had, and so he’d constructed some kind of diorama of Scully’s life that would go wrong bit by bit, boiling her like a gradually heated bathtub. No resting in peace for the unbeliever.

She can’t imagine a worse punishment than all the potentially good things in her life getting dismantled beyond her control. She’d rather never experience them at all than know their joy then watch them fall apart. Missy would kill her if she heard this, but you can’t please everybody.

It is at this point that Scully embarks on her chosen method of religious self-flagellation: going through the Ten Commandments and determining whether she’s violated them. Count up your sins and God won’t have to; practically the tagline of the Catholic faith.

She thinks she does okay with the first few. She has no idols, she honors her mother and father, and Mulder knows not to call her on Sunday mornings. Of course, the part about not taking the Lord’s name in vain can be tricky, but she’s working on it.

Number five is where it gets dicey. Thou shalt not kill. She imagines that she wouldn’t, not on purpose, but the circumstances of her job worry her. God makes no exceptions for self-defense. And what if she were ever to be a true doctor? If she couldn’t save a patient, does that mean she killed them?

Her father was in the Navy. He never killed anyone.

Number six...well, she doesn’t mention that often. Few people know about Daniel. Missy is one. Scully harbors a genuine shame regarding that time in her life, not so much because of Daniel, but because she was complicit in hurting his wife and daughter. It was a young, foolish mistake that she never wants to make again.

She feels pretty good about number seven. The only thing she has ever stolen is one of Charlie’s matchbox cars when they were kids. She was uninterested in Missy’s hand-me-down Barbies and Raggedy Ann dolls. The boys’ toys were much cooler. She trusted the Lord enough to know that He wouldn’t hold something she did when she was seven against her. Besides, she gave it back when Charlie figured out it was missing. She just wishes he had let her play with him after that.

Number eight: thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor. She considers honesty one of her best qualities. She sure hopes God does too. She’s not the most open person, but that’s different from lying…

Nine is a lost cause, considering six had been broken. This was her least favorite part of her family’s religion: the power it had to cause her shame about her own body, her own desires. She had her first crisis of faith over this at age 14. Missy comforted her with something she has never forgotten: “The original sin was the serpent’s deception, not Eve’s desire. Even God pins it on the woman.” She knew her sister could only say that because she didn’t truly believe and wasn’t trying to, but it had stuck with Scully through many moments when she needed it.

And finally, thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s goods. She supposes she did this with the matchbox cars when she was seven, but in literal terms that’s about it. Metaphorically, she does this all the time and struggles with why she feels so inadequate. Her sister’s confidence, Mulder’s tenacity, her father’s faith...The ideal Dana Scully would have all of these. The real one is a work in progress.

--------------------

So it goes that she finds herself prepping a case in the office on Valentine’s Day. Mulder’s scheduled to fly to Florida the next morning to investigate attacks in a community of circus performers. He’s convinced it’s the Fiji Mermaid, she’s convinced he needs to get his head checked; the usual. This is one comfort Scully can always rely on. No matter how utterly twisted her life gets, she will always think Mulder is crazy, and he will always go along with it.

The occasion of the day goes unmentioned until what Mulder lovingly refers to as “closing time,” which is not a specific time but rather the point that he finally gives up for the day, usually hastened by his partner’s prodding. Scully has learned the signs of his dwindling tenacity by now. She glances at the clock as he pulls his glasses off his head and tosses a sunflower seed in the wastebasket, pleasantly surprised that it reads only 5:15. He catches her checking, his eyes--amber today--meeting hers.

His lips curl in amusement. “You got a date or something?”

“No,” she blinks, feeling like a child caught taking a cookie from the jar. Her cheeks grow hot, threatening to make a scene. “I figured you did, since you’re finishing up so early.”

Mulder straightens his stack of papers, clinking them against the desk obnoxiously. “Think again, buckaroo.”

He’s taken to calling her that lately. Neither one of them is sure why, it just popped into his mind one day and stuck. It makes her feel like a heroine in some 70s Western shoot-out flick who wrangles all the bad guys and locks’em in the county jail. She’s thankful that someone can see her for what she could be rather than what she is. It helps her see that too.

He stuffs his papers in a manila folder, then rises from behind the desk and stoops toward the backpack he prefers to a briefcase. (She called him a kindergartener once because of it and he remarked that he’d ‘rather be a kindergartener than an adult.’ She couldn’t argue with that.) “Valentine’s Day isn’t really observed under the Fox Mulder calendar,” he says, unzipping the bag and putting the folder in. “Halloween and Thanksgiving, those are my holy days.”

“You worship at the shrine of the food pyramid,” Scully smirks.

“Yes indeed. Wait--” Scully’s gaze flicks to him, genuinely concerned. He dissolves her uncertainty with a boyish grin. “--does the food pyramid include candy?”

She rolls her eyes, but it’s not deeply felt. She misses these flat-lining comedic routines of his, usually at their best when they’re putzing through some tumble-weed town where the bathroom stalls at the gas station don’t lock. He loves being the funniest person in a ten-mile radius, and that’s not a satisfaction he can have in DC. She wonders if he tells these lame jokes to strangers now, or if they were just for her.

“Speaking of food,” he says, brushing a hand through his hair, “you wanna grab dinner?”

Scully’s forehead creases. “Like, in a restaurant?”

“I mean, I wasn’t gonna be that forward, but I guess we could take it to yours or mine...”

Scully laughs lightly, wrapping her arms around herself, fingers caressing her bony elbows. “We’ve already covered what day it is,” she demures. “Everyone having dinner is going to be on a date.”

“You’re right...the restaurant probably won’t let us in unless we make out in front of the hostess,” he deadpans.

“Not to mention that we don’t have any reservations…”

“Well, making out might remedy that, depending on the hostess.”

She gives him her ‘last straw’ look--crossed arms, arched eyebrow, stinging glare--and he raises his hands in surrender. “I’ll stick to slipping a twenty, then.”

Scully uncrosses her arms and slinks toward her purse rather languishly. “No restaurants, Mulder. It’s too much trouble on a holiday.”

“I sure hope you didn’t mistake my suggestion as an invitation to Mulder’s Downhome Country Kitchen, cause that place is not Michelin star rated.”

“I’m well aware. I’ve seen the menu.”

“Is Chateau de Scully open tonight?” he asks with an eyebrow raise that his partner couldn’t have missed if she tried--and she did.

“Well, the chef is celebrating Valentine’s Day with her girlfriend in Oregon, so you’d be waiting awhile for your meal.”

“There’s no back-up chef? I don’t know, someone who may need to feed herself while the chef is away?”

“Yes, but she doesn’t serve the public.”

“Ouch.”

He plucks their respective coats off the rack, folding his own over his arm and throwing his partner’s over her shoulders. She jumps just the tiniest bit--she probably thinks he didn’t notice, so he’ll pretend he didn’t--then slips her arms in the sleeves and pulls it on properly.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, avoiding eye contact.

After he’s put his own jacket on, he hoists up his backpack, fielding off his partner’s near swerve into laughter. She’s barely maintaining a straight face, and even if it’s at his expense, he loves it because unadulterated joy is something she deserves so much.

“You know what, I’ve got just the solution,” he says as he strolls out the doorway, flipping the light switch as he goes, leaving Scully scrambling in the dark.

“Hey!”

He hears her petulant voice, followed quickly by the laugh he was looking for. When she turns to him after locking the office door, her eyes are still shining from the momentary euphoria. He is so happy to know her.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this place is the Smithsonian of vending machines.”

“Mm-hm.”

“And I know a door to the rooftop that never gets locked.” He flashes her a sly look, his intentions pure despite himself.

“It’s 40 degrees outside,” she counters before he can even voice his proposal.

“Sure, but we can make some fresh coffee, and there’s gotta be blankets in that storage closet of ours.” Ours. Very few things are theirs. She wishes he would say it again.

As much as her instinct is to protest, she can’t quite muster the resolve to. I mean, it checks all the boxes. It’s not a restaurant, she’d only have to eat a snack from the vending machine, and she wouldn’t have to spend Valentine’s night alone, which is a sneaky sadness that had been pressing at the back of her mind.

“Fine,” she bluffs, as if it were a great inconvenience to her. She enjoys the cat-and-mouse game, what can she say? “You find the blankets, I’ll get the coffee.”

Mulder smiles, his lips edging over his teeth in an aesthetically pleasing way that makes Scully feel like he missed his calling as a male model. Of course, this smile isn’t posed. The constant in his life is his partner’s unpredictability. Everyone thinks she’s a stone-cold skeptic, but he knows she’s an uncertain believer, and there’s no one harder to pin down than that. Her yes to his Valentine plans may as well be an admission that Bigfoot exists.

“Let’s meet by the sixth floor stairwell, okay?” he prompts, laying a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

Flashes of Christmas Eve sabotage her thoughts--her mother’s kitchen, her untidy tipsiness, Mulder just trying to iron things out. He’d touched her, and she’d lashed out at him. Reaction formation, that was the term for the defense mechanism she’d used. He knew it, probably studied it extensively. Concealing an impulse by acting out its opposite.

Instead of mentioning this, she looks him in the eyes and says, “Okay, I’ll use the coffee machine on the sixth floor then,” as if his touch hadn’t brought forth both memory and desire.

“Great. See you there.” He pulls finger guns, and she thinks that maybe this is already her best Valentine’s Day yet.

----------------------

Five stories of stairs is a long way to go with two hot mugs of coffee. Scully had hoped there would be some styrofoam cups--something she could put a lid on--but the Bureau is stingy, so she had to go all the way back to the basement, grab their coffee mugs, take the elevator back to the sixth floor, brew some dark roast (to Mulder’s probable discontent), then hope that by some miracle, they could make it to the roof.

Ever the idealist, Mulder takes the challenge in stride. Though his arms are already bundled with some comforters he found tucked away in storage (he shudders to think how old they must be), he takes the handle of his mug, squeezing the blankets snug against his chest.

“Are you sure about this?” his partner asks with her usual uneven tone. “What if we get all the way up there and the door is locked?”

“We knock and get the snipers to open the door for us,” he answers matter-of-factly.

Scully’s eyebrows shoot up. “Snipers?”

“Oh yeah, did I forget to mention? There’s a longstanding rumor about snipers on the roof that I’d like to get to the bottom of.”

His demeanor is just loose enough to make Scully question whether he is in fact kidding. A conversational casualness permeates all of his sensational soliloquies because to him, the phenomena he’s discussing should be regarded as a fact of the world. If he ever launched into an indifferent lecture on the subject, she’d know he was bluffing.

Having never heard the rumor herself, she decides this is simply a figment of his overactive imagination. She’ll play along. “Well, if it’s anything like the talk of you being spooky, then it doesn’t look good for us…” she teases, her own smirk eliciting an identical one from her partner.

Masking his impatience by embodying the role of the gentleman, Mulder uses his free hand to prop open the stairwell door, ushering his partner through. The landing of each story has one stray light bulb, there for show more than anything. Most of them are either flickering or burned out, the agents discover as they inch their way up, one slowly taken step at a time. Step, pause for the coffee to settle, hope it doesn’t breach its container, step: that’s the process they adopt for approximately 100 steps in the cold Hoover stairwell. There are many ways to show love; Mulder bets that you wouldn’t find this in any lame self-help book.

“Do you think Romeo would have done this for Juliet?” he muses.

“Depends on what he was expecting once they made it to the top,” Scully quips, the edges of her lips turning up slightly.

Mulder nods, perpetually amused by her (too) infrequent jaunts into suggestive territory. “My man really got ahead of himself with the whole ‘dying for her’ schtick.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Mulder eyes her. “Actually, I think it was you who was going to die for me.”

“Not for you, because of you.” Her statement is neither packed with malice nor free of blame. “There’s a difference.”

She may as well have shot him at point blank range; then at least she could see the bleeding. She didn’t mean to be so blunt, but he gave her the perfect setup. Mulder cauterizes his own wound, disguising his pain as a joke. “Damn, I was finally moving past that!”

“At least one of us was,” she says, her voice fluttering, and he knows she’s just teasing, but god, what if she’s cauterizing her own hidden wounds?

They reach the door labelled ‘roof,’ and Mulder can’t decipher what happens first, him putting his hand on the door handle or her placing a chilly hand on his cheek. Playing it back in his head later on he won’t even be able to figure it out-- it cut time loose from its axes in such a way.

“Are you okay, Scully?” He’s not sure why this is the first question out of his mouth, but it is.

“I need a hand warmer,” she murmurs. “The coffee’s already cooling off.”

All the while, Mulder is acutely aware that her hand’s still on his cheek and she’s got him propped against the door, and what does she want him to do with that information?

Her thumb grazes his mole, and it becomes clear to him that there are two ways this scenario could go, and if she doesn’t want the second one it’s imperative that she stop rubbing rhythmic circles into his skin.

He clears his throat. “Do you want to...do you want me to check for snipers?” Her touch continues, uninterrupted.

“Is the door unlocked?” Her voice sounds airy and far away. She probably didn’t even hear his question.

He pushes on the handle, confirming their freedom. “Yes ma’am,” he answers, fear of a sort edging him into total politeness. He is twelve tiptoeing through the too empty halls of his house, again.

“Let’s have a picnic,” she says, still light and airy, as if that weren’t the plan the entire time. Then, she breaks into sudden laughter, pulling her hand away from Mulder’s cheek in her fit. “We forgot the food!”

She is back to normal now, his steadfast Scully with a side of joy.

Half of him mourning for the otherworldly Scully and the moment that could have been, he laughs too. “There may have been some lapses in planning.”

“We can make do, can’t we?” There’s a glimmer in her eyes that suggests the moment is not as far gone as he believed.

“Cold coffee sounds like an enduring Valentine’s tradition,” he affirms.

They choose not to dwell on words like “enduring” and “tradition,” entering the chill of the Hoover Building rooftop on Valentine’s night.

------------------

They’re not that far above the city really--the Hoover’s no NYC skyscraper--but their heads are in the clouds, that’s for sure. It’s not the typical dinner date complete with melted candles and overpriced dessert and overly attentive waiters, but as it turns out, they would both hate that. After all, this is not a date, it’s a casual hangout between two coworkers who don’t have dates on Valentine’s Day. If anything, it’s an anti-date. That’s what they tell themselves.

February’s unrelenting chill swirls around them, catching Scully’s hair in playful tantrums and turning the two of them into life-size paperweights atop the blankets. More sensible people may call the night a bust, but not the Prince of Halloweentown and his esteemed guest. This unconventional adventure is exactly what they bargained for.

Scully looks to Mulder, who’s holding his coffee like it’s a beer. She smiles. That is so him.

She exhales, and her breath spells itself out on the air. She tilts her face to the sky, as if the sun might suddenly rise and bask her in its heat. Mulder notices and fixes his attention there too, happy to have an excuse to look skyward. It’s his outlet, like hers is the sea her father dedicated his life to. His preferred escape method is to fly away; hers is to drift off.

He forces himself back into the moment, here, with her, and the expanse of the sky. “I once spent fifty bucks on one of those ‘name a star’ certificates, and I can’t even see it because of the goddamn light pollution.”

“I think that’s really more about the gesture than anything else,” Scully replies, trying to soothe him as if this were actually a pressing problem. “Unless you bought it for yourself...?”

Mulder chuckles. “No, no. It was for an old girlfriend.”

Scully raises her eyebrows in amusement. “Did you name it after her?”

“No, we named it the Rhine star.”

A puzzled look passes between them. It gives him a twinge of joy that his partner is not the encyclopedia she seems to be.

“After Joseph Banks Rhine, the founder of parapsychology,” he clarifies. “We were both fascinated by the field.”

“Oh.” She turns her face back toward the sky with the feeling of a kid who missed the winning word of the spelling bee. There are times when she is grateful she does not know everything, and times when she is not. Somehow, this is both.

“I’ve thought about buying another one and naming it after Samantha,” Mulder continues, “but it feels too much like a grave marker.”

“I’d consider it a lovely tribute,” Scully counters, used to doing so. “But I’m thirty and I own my own gravestone, so take that with a grain of salt.”

It’s true--once Dana was returned, her mother couldn’t bear to look at the gravestone she’d had engraved in memory of her missing daughter, so she gave it to Mulder, who saw no logical place for it to go except the woman whose name it bore. Margaret hadn’t wanted her to know that it existed, that they’d gotten so far as considering her gone. While it brought Mulder no joy to present it to his partner, it served as a reminder of the miracle her survival was, and in such bleak times, they had both needed that.

“It doesn’t scare me--the thought of dying,” Scully says to the stars. Mulder wonders if she meant for him to hear it. He wishes he hadn’t, but he’s met with the realization that she is trying to start a conversation when her eyes look into his.

He doesn’t know where to go with this, so he toes the line between deep and sarcastic. “I thought Catholics were all about that heaven and hell stuff.”

“Yes, but…” where is the line between truth and blasphemy, she wonders? Settling herself, she starts over. “I’ve lived both on Earth, so what have I got to fear?” She turns her glance to the blanket, as if shrinking out of the Lord’s sight. “Besides, sometimes I think I’m already there.”

“Heaven?”

“No, Hell.”

He should have known. He grips the edge of his blanket, wondering why his parents had prioritized the sex talk but never explained what to do in a situation like this. He has a psychology degree, sure, but he’s as much a psychologist as she’s a physicist.

“There are periods of life, I think, where everyone feels like that,” he says in the most earnest voice he can conjure. “It’s just that nobody ever talks about it.”

“Did you feel like that with Samantha?”

Leave it to Scully to turn a personal conversation back on him.

He bites his lip. “Yeah, yeah, I did. Still do, if I think about it too long.”

“How did you...move past it?” The lights of nearby buildings reflect off her blue eyes, galaxies to his black holes. He’d give anything to sluice the pain right from her heart.

He’ll rely on his words instead, despite knowing there are depths they cannot touch. “I, uh, I didn’t really move past it, I just moved. Kept moving, I guess. I found a place where I could make progress out of my pain. Here--the X-Files.”

Scully swallows hard, knocking back tears. "That’s the issue. I feel stuck. Just completely unable to go forward. There’s a current in my brain that keeps pushing me backward.”

Mulder lets out a deep breath, trying to take both their pain with it. “Have you considered seeing a therapist?” he asks delicately. “It sounds like you may have PTSD.”

“Over what?” she practically snaps. “I don’t remember a thing.”

“That doesn’t mean you have no memories. Regression hypnosis could help recover repressed or unconscious memories, so you could understand exactly what’s bothering you.”

“You think I haven’t heard this spiel from Melissa?”

“I bet Melissa doesn’t have first-hand experience with it.”

“No, she doesn’t,” she murmurs in the tone of an apology. She knew that he had it, she had listened to the tapes. How could she let it slip her mind? It is uncouth of her to look down on his chosen method of healing.

Mulder isn’t bothered. He continues, “It helped me. Both in recalling the details of the experience, and in having a recorded recollection of it. It helped me feel less...insane.”

“Mmm.” If he were just a bit closer, she’d reach out and touch his hand.

“If anything, I wish I did it earlier.”

Scully’s understanding of him sharpens, like an ophthalmologist flipping the lens, making her vision clearer. Her gaze probes him, mutual souls recognizing mutual pain.

“Hey.” He uses his extended wingspan to touch her shoulder with the care an older sibling would show holding their baby brother for the first time. She turns her head, their faces mere inches away from each other. His eyes are a dopey brown, his breath scented with coffee.

“Yes?” she says with a coquettish flitting of her eyelashes.

“You should come back out on the road. I could use someone to shoot down all my wild whims.”

She can’t help but smile, though she keeps her mouth closed. “Tired of telling jokes to strangers who don’t laugh, are you?”

He smirks. “Well, yeah, that too.” He leans back a bit, putting enough distance between them to keep the sparks in check. “Of course, if you’re not ready, there’s no pressure. I just think you could use the change of scenery and--you know--companionship.”

She nods, looks out into the night. He’s got the pulse of her problems and the salve that could soothe them. “You’re right.” How often does he get to hear those beautiful words come out of her mouth? “I need to get out of my cocoon, and I think I’m okay enough to do that now.”

“Yeah?” There’s a twinkle in his eyes, something like hope.

She laughs--catharsis manifest--and it’s like a sheen of light coming through a crack in her jagged surface. “Yeah, Mulder. I’ll make the arrangements with Skinner.”

He pumps his fists in the air. “Hallelujah!”

She hadn’t realized how much he’d missed her. Any stray thoughts she had of him being lonely she chalked up to her own delusions.

“Florida is probably a lost cause,” she notes, “but after that…”

He nods, pats her shoulder. “After that.”

To have her back meant something like freedom. The X-Files had never been anything without her. He had never been anything without her.

#oh to share a morbid conversation with your partner on a rooftop on valentines day #i struggled with this part but im quite happy with how it came out <3 #only the light fic #missy and scully fic #the x-files #txf #txf fanfic #fox mulder #dana scully #mine #thank you as always for reading and supporting

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