#seems people are really attached to taking golden boy at his word bc they agree with his poor opinion of them

[sapphim]

it's funny to me that of all my hot takes, one of the ones that was most poorly received across the board was "I think alistair may be unreliable or misinformed about aspects of the templar order." nobody in the notes cared for that one.

[likeholymary]

— one with the force

the phantom menace ii: 4.6k words

AU: What if the Clone Wars never happened, but instead Darth Sidious cast aside the Rule of Two, forging a new way for the Sith and began amassing an army of Sith warriors to overthrow the Jedi and the Republic?

A/N: (not my gif) (excerpt below is from The Clone Wars: Wild Space by Karen Miller, slightly altered to fit the story). hello beautiful friends! the beautiful gif credit goes to @pixelahsoka. this chapter has a LOT of content so just keep that in mind! also, kind of cheesy ending but whatever, hehe. also, yes, to confirm, obi-wan and rhea are a force dyad. however, it will (hopefully) be better than the sequels, bc i felt like it just came out of nowhere. their romance will be a slow-burn to them actually accepting it, with them still being at least semi-romantical along the way, so look forward to that! this chapter is filled with a lot of fluff, and a very angsty ending. this is the last chapter set during the phantom menace, so the next chapter will be set during attack of the clones, where most of the AU aspect will begin to pick up! comment below or send me an ask if you would like to join the taglist and be notified about the upcoming chapters! again, i am so grateful that you are even reading this, and if you feel compelled to do so, please reblog this post so your mutuals can read it as well! i love you all:) masterlist

mentions: death, blood, fighting, MAJOR angst, force connection, sadness.

The Master and Apprentice began their departure from the Jedi Temple on their Naboo, and Obi-Wan did not think it wise. 

Not after the Dathomirian man had appeared on that Maker-forsaken dustball with a red lightsaber, which only meant one thing – the Sith had returned.

He breathed in the pale glow of the planet’s moon, not taking time to look up and watch the stars glitter above, instead making short strides behind Qui-Gon, the shadow of the Naboo ship creeping its way across to cover them in more darkness, further darkening Obi-Wan’s mood and attitude towards the continuation of this ill-fated mission. 

Having just left the council’s chambers, he felt immense frustration, not only at the council, but at his Master as well. Not only was he ready to face the Jedi Trials which the council seemed to be denying him the right to, now his Master was all too eager to take on the latest lifeform they had picked up on their Naboo adventures, a boy believed to be the Chosen One by his Master.  

Not only was the boy too old, but Obi-Wan could sense it just as the council had – a great fear was buried deep within this Anakin Skywalker. A fear that was all consuming, and was growing slowly within him since they had left Tatooine and the boy’s mother behind.

Why could his master not sense it as he and the council did? Did he just assume ignorance for the possibilities to witness the forthcoming of a prophecy? He never understood his Master’s obsession with the old Jedi prophecies. It was an area of interest he sorely lacked, something that he felt put a strain on his relationship with Qui-Gon, something he realized that Qui-Gon probably wished Obi-Wan was intrigued by, but both of them knew that their Master-Apprentice relationship would never be like that of Dooku and Qui-Gon. 

Rhea, however, had been Dooku’s apprentice and shared a similar, if not less, affinity for the supernatural and old ways of the Jedi. Perhaps he could pay her a visit once his mission was completed, or even send her a message over their datapads like they used to before they got increasingly more busy as padawans. 

Surprise began to grow in him when he saw Rhea standing on the platform beside the ship. She had been waiting on him. As Qui-Gon began to speak to Anakin privately, Obi-Wan ran over to her with a small grin on his face. He should have known she would be here, for every time he simply thought of her, it seemed she was always nearby, as if she were watching over him.

“What are you doing here?” He beamed.

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but notice the blush dusting her cheeks, even in the shadow of the ship. 

“I couldn’t just let you leave without saying goodbye, now could I?”

“You said goodbye to me before the council meeting.”

Rhea rolled her eyes, groaning in annoyance before she began to simper quietly, punching him in the shoulder. “Well, yes, but I couldn’t give you this in front of the council, now could I?”  She held out her arms, opening them in anticipation for one of their rare hugs. When they were younglings, it was of course more sociably acceptable for them to embrace, however as the years began to pass and after many scoldings from each of their masters, they hid it away for special occasions or the few moments they would ever share alone, which were few and far between.

Obi-Wan buried his face in her shoulder, breathing in the sort of meadowy scent she always seemed to carry, as if she were the greatest meadow within the galaxy, filled with thousands of flowers constantly doused by the warm air and golden sunshine, only to be damped by a cool spring rain. She was a wonder, in his eyes.

Rhea’s arms wrapped around his neck as he lifted his head so he could carefully place his chin on top of her head, ever so sweetly. She equally breathed him in, sighing as she inhaled the overwhelming musk of rain, leather and perhaps even some old oak and a few of his dusty books. He always did become overly invested in his new findings, nose deep in his studies, but she wouldn’t have it any other way.

The two stood there for but a moment, taking every part of each other in as if it were the last time they would see each other, and to Rhea, she felt like it was.

“Promise.. promise you’ll come back?” Obi-Wan pulled away, simpering down at her with a twinkle in his eyes.

“When have I ever not?”

Rhea scowled for a second, her face quickly softening once more. “Just promise me, you idiot.”

“Fine, I promise you, dearest.”

She rolled her eyes at the nickname, breathing out a short laugh, before launching herself further into his arms, her fingers lacing through his shortly buzzed hair. Now for this, well, she wasn’t sure what Master Windu would have to say if he saw her like this, but she knew that it would be a deep scolding. It seemed so stupidly forbidden for her to just be lacing her fingers through his hair, but she paid no mind to the Jedi Code in the moment. 

Rhea was his dearest, and he her Ben, and yet, the pain of the loss of her Master still fresh on her mind, reminded her why she could not become attached to this overly-complex relationship the two padawans shared. 

It’s time to let go. 

And yet, she couldn’t. And neither could he.

╔═━────━▒ ۞ ▒━────━═╗

Obi-Wan Kenobi sat on the Queen’s ship while they flew through hyperspace back to Naboo. It seemed such a foolish idea to be returning to the invaded planet, but he did as he was told just as he always did, and followed the willful lead of his master. They were but a small force, two Jedi, a Queen and a handful of her people. What could they really do? If the Sith really had returned, could they really defeat them as well as an entire army?

The Queen had suggested they call upon the aid of the Gungans, but Obi-Wan questioned if that would work as well. The Gungans seemed to have a deeply seeded hatred for the people of Naboo, as it was obvious that in the past the former had treated the other like insolent fools. He wasn’t sure that he could disagree after spending so much time around Jar Jar Binks.

A light bit of laughter echoed in his mind, and it sounded like Rhea. He must have just imagined talking to her, Rhea giggling at his comments and avidly agreeing while coming up with her own quippy comment.

Obi-Wan could not help but miss the girl.

Alone in his small room aboard the ship, he tried closing his eyes so as to meditate, folding his hands together as he crossed his legs, breathe in, breathe out.

But she was still there.

Get out of my head.

He thought almost mockingly, knowing that she surely couldn’t be listening to his thoughts from such far a distance.

Why don’t you get out of mine, Ben?

Obi-Wan was shaken. There was absolutely no way-

I’m still here. Could you help me get out? You’re thinking about me too much, and I’m a little offended that you’re annoyed of my presence.

Obi-Wan then snapped his eyes open, and there sitting in front of him was none other than his dearest, greatest life companion, Rhea Illyria, with a smile of a thousand stars.

╔═━────━▒ ۞ ▒━────━═╗

Rhea Illyria sat on her bed in her quarters inside the Jedi Temple, breathing in, breathing out, as she performed her daily morning meditation. She knew many other padawans and younglings who hated the act of meditation, but she found it rather peaceful, a time to focus on the energy of the Force, to feel it moving around her and all other life forms.

She, however, became momentarily distracted by the thought of Obi-Wan Kenobi and his departure back to Naboo. She sighed, wishing she could have gone with him. There was something in the Force, something that felt like a warning about the planet of Naboo, and those who invaded. No, not the invaders... The ones controlling the invaders, pulling the strings. Who were they? The Sith? Or was it something... something much greater and evil in all forms and aspects?

Rhea worried for Obi-Wan and his mission, and she couldn’t help the thoughts consuming her not only of the danger of his mission, but of the padawan and their untold and unseen embrace. 

However, there was a nagging feeling in her gut. The Force pulling her towards something... No, someone.

She could just reach out, and suddenly her eyes were meet with the galaxy, planets dancing by as the stars glimmered all around her. She was walking among them, slowly, as if moving through the tides of the deepest oceans.

Breathe in, breathe out. What is the Force pushing you towards?

Rhea could see something ahead, a silver shape slowly getting closer as she continued to wade her way through stars and the black dusts of the galaxy.

Someone was thinking intensely. Someone was annoyed.

She couldn’t help but giggle at the notion of the Gungans being quite unintelligent creatures, or at least Jar Jar Binks, the creature someone was thinking about.

The closer Rhea got to the shape, she noticed it took the form of the ship from Naboo, the ship that carried its queen, the ship that carried him.

Someone was Obi-Wan.

This had to be some dream, she thought. She must have drifted into some sleep while she was meditating. But at the same moment she drifted through space, she breathed in, and could feel the sheets of her bed curl around her fingers, sense the starflower in the corner of her window, could smell the caf she so desperately needed each day after her meditations.

Despite trying to refocus on her true surroundings, Rhea became lost in the stars once more when something pushed back against her.

Get out of my head.

Rhea huffed, and began to more faster, willing the stars around her to move, to allow her closer access to the ship. She continued to wade and move through slowly, yet determined.

Why don’t you get out of mine, Ben?

She could feel his confusion, and despite her own, she couldn’t help but find some joy in this strange place. How she was able to drift through the stars to the other padawan was certainly not a normal occurrence among the Jedi, nor within the Force.

He couldn’t believe she was there either. He was thinking about her, thinking about how he missed her, which tugged at something within her she had never noticed before.

Her fingers finally grace the cool metal of the ship, however, they moved through its surface, and she was able to pass through, allowing the Force to guide her to her dear friend.

At the same time, he became frustrated by her presence distracting him from his own meditation.

I’m still here. Could you help me get out? You’re thinking about me too much, and I’m a little offended that you’re annoyed of my presence.

She was no longer floating within the ship, and instead now found herself grounded, sitting cross legged across Obi-Wan.

╔═━────━▒ ۞ ▒━────━═╗

“Ho-how are you even here? I must be dreaming, there is no way that this could possibly be real. I mean, have you ever read about Jedi being able to communicate with each other over vast distances such as this? This is simply impossible!”  Obi-Wan rambled, tugging at his chin, brow furrowed as his mouth gaped slightly at the sight of Rhea.

She however, rolled her eyes, unamused this time by his consistent desire for the knowledge of just about everything. This had to be under the category he loved the least, and she treasured the most – the supernatural ongoings of the Force.

“Ben!” She finally shouted, smacking him on his forehead to get his attention.

This brought Obi-Wan to attention, but also caused both padawans to touch their forehead and hand respectively.

“How did you do that!” “How did I do that?”

Rhea and Obi-Wan were, to say the least, perplexed and befuddled by the situation before them. Obi-Wan, deciding the best course of action was to hypothesize how this anomaly could have occurred in the Force, decided they should each ask one another questions regarding just how this had happened.

“What were you doing when this,” he motioned between them, “happened?” Rhea bit her bottom lip, furrowing her brow just as he had. “I was meditating. It’s morning back at the Temple, so I was doing my morning meditations...” Obi-Wan’s hand remained on his chin, his forefinger rubbing incessantly across his upper lip. 

“As was I. Continue, please,” he spoke so softly, she almost wondered if he was trying to be quiet so no one would hear them and come looking.

“Well, my meditations were interrupted by thoughts of you.” Obi-Wan paused his menstruations, his eyes darting to meet hers.

“You were thinking about me?” 

“Well, yes–” “Why?” She grew flustered, a growing pain pounding in her chest, sharp and yet harsh. Her hands began to sweat as she started to wring them out like some old tunic on washing day, her eyes swooping to avoid his ever piercing-blue gaze.

“I don’t know, why were you thinking about me!” She retorted.

It was one of the few times Obi-Wan got speechless and she could not help but gleam with pride at catching his tongue. She knew this trait would probably die with age, the older her got the further he became closer to the title of a silver tongued master, however she knew she would look back on this moment and know she had trumped him at his own game.

“I–” However, he never got a singular thought out, as Qui-Gon began to shout Obi-Wan’s name like he were some incessant father trying to find his son after a long game of hide-and-go-seek.

Obi-Wan cursed under his breath, a moment of panic coursing through him, but when he looked back from the door to Rhea, she was gone, and he once again was alone, feeling a strange and overwhelming sense of sadness.

╔═━────━▒ ۞ ▒━────━═╗

Rhea tried to continue her day as usual, but her gut instinct inside of her told her that there was something more to her apparent Force projection than it just being that. No... she knew there was something more to this event that had just occurred in not only her life, but Obi-Wan’s. Everything felt like it was going to change.

Unfocused in her training with Mace Windu, he scolded her throughout the day, noting her lack of focus and charging her with consistent complaints about her lack of balance. 

How could she feel balanced? How was she supposed to feel balance after she lacked control over her own capabilities through the Force? How could she feel balance when it had alluded her since the day her Master abandoned her for a life without her as his apprentice? 

How could she feel balance without anyone there to guide her? “The Force, guide you, it will.” 

Rhea nearly ran over Master Yoda who now stood in the Temple’s halls in front of her, smiling just as knowingly as he had every day she could remember. 

“Master Yoda, I didn’t see you there.” “Loud your thoughts are. Many things on your mind, are there not?” 

Rhea could not help but feel guilty and caught. Surely though, Master Yoda could be the one to help her. She had so many questions weighing her down, aching to be asked, and yet she felt ashamed to even think them to herself. Now, it seemed that there were those who were listening. 

“Master, I just feel so lost.”

Yoda hummed, chuckling to himself as if he held all the secrets of the world to himself and would just become amused by the ongoings of the beings around him.

“Come with me, you will.” Yoda motioned for her to follow him, as he guided her toward the meditation room. He sat down on a small chair meant for younglings, and she sat adjacent from him, not really knowing if a meditation session was going to help. After all, it’s what got her into this conundrum.

“Close you eyes. Focus not on your surroundings, but the Force.”

Rhea breathed in, breathed out, closing her eyes as she began to let go of her surroundings, allowing them to fade away. 

“See what is in the Force that troubles you, and tell me what it is.” 

She wasn’t sure if she should reach out again. What if she connected with another Jedi like she had with Obi-Wan? But surely, that would not happen. She had been thinking of him, just as she was now.

Images then began to flow through her mind. A beautiful green planet under siege by the droid armies of the Separatists, a cloaked man with a red lightsaber watching over her as she slept, Dooku the day he left her without even looking behind, her connection with Obi-Wan earlier that morning, him falling...

“I see the droid armies invading Naboo.. A Sith watching over me. Dooku leaving the Jedi Order.... and..”

“More there is?”

“Yes..” Rhea whispered, but she couldn’t focus on the grainy voice of Yoda. She kept reaching out, as if pulling the Force towards her like a rope, trying to yank it so it would release all of its secrets it was holding from her.

And into the Force she fell.

Everything around her was blurry, she couldn’t focus on anything except the strength of the Dark Side coursing before her. It was Obi-Wan. And he had given into all of his anger and hatred, an overwhelming tsunami of darkness coating every inch of him and not it began to creep upon her, splashing her with the emotions flowing out of him.

No, he cannot give into this. She thought, watching as he fell into the pool of darkness waiting to swallow him whole.

╔═━────━▒ ۞ ▒━────━═╗

His master was dead. 

Obi-Wan watched as Qui-Gon crumpled to the floor, and he screamed in agony as he was trapped behind the laser shield, hopelessly witnessing the death of his Master.  And he could not help the growing rage and hatred that began to engulf his entire being, becoming greater with each second as he practically jumped, ready for the laser shield to move so he could slaughter this hunter before him, this Sith, this darkness.

His face twitched, his mouth curling downward into a snarl, complete loathe shining in his eyes which now darkened as he turned his gaze upon the Dathomirian. 

The Sith trailed before him like some wild beast waiting for its prey, stalking like some dark creature.

A moment before the laser shields even began to move once again, Obi-Wan ignited his lightsaber, seconds before a red bladed lightsaber was ignited as well. The shields moved, and Obi-Wan raised his saber, going to strike the beast of red and darkness down, going to strike for the kill out of the rage and hatred in his heart.

The darkness was consuming him, but Obi-Wan did not care. How could he care now? His master was dead, and this creature seemed a powerful foe within the Force, something that should be put down for the sake of the Republic and the safety of its citizens.... something that should pay for its crimes against the Jedi, it’s crimes against him.

He blocked every twist and twirl it made with its lightsaber, blocking its attacks by pushing back against it with more fervent and less coordinated attacks. If he could only strike it down... 

Obi-Wan lifted his lightsaber, slashing through the center of its double-bladed saber, cutting the pieces in half as one went out. He flipped over the creature, slashing at his center and sorrowfully missing him by an inch. 

This creature was quick, but he had to be quicker, he had to be. What would his Master say if he failed him? What would Rhea say if he were to fall, just as Qui-Gon had moments ago? He would not dare break a promise to her.

The creature kicked him in the face, but he did not let it affect him, instead holding out his lightsaber in front of him, looking for the best place to strike him down.  As their blades locked, Obi-Wan gritted his teeth as he pushed against the creature, his eyes glaring deeply into those sickly-yellow ones, now pushing down against his blade. Anger filled him, and rage too, however, the Sith lifted its hand, using the Force and propelling him across the room, and into the shaft. Obi-Wan grabbed ahold of a light as he began to fall, holding on for dear life as the Sith once again began to trail above him, stalking like a creature in the night. He watched helplessly as it kicked his lightsaber down into the shaft, the weapon, his life, now falling down just as hopelessly as he felt. 

Obi-Wan had to keep on holding on. He had to get back up there, he had to avenge his Master’s death. 

No.

As the Sith caused sparks to rain down from above onto him, attempting to get him to lose grip and fall, Obi-Wan could hear her speaking to him.

Do not give into the darkness. Do not give into the anger or hate. Rise above.

A second voice this time came.

Trust only in the Force.

Qui-Gon.

Rise above. 

And for a moment, Obi-Wan closed his eyes. Rhea was there, almost floating before him, but he couldn’t see anything around her, only she was in his mind. 

I will stand together with you. Rise above. 

“It occurred to Obi-Wan then, with a clarity that was startling, given the dark side hurricane howling through him, that Yoda was wrong about the dangers of attachment. Or at least that he wasn’t altogether right. It was true that attachment could weaken a Jedi’s resolve. But it could also strengthen it … as he was strengthened now by his love for Qui-Gon, and Rhea. Without them he would have failed long before this moment. And so, leaning on them, he continued to fight.”

And so, Obi-Wan opened his eyes, using the Force to propel him upwards as he jumped, landing behind the Sith and now focusing his energy, not through the Dark Side, but now back through the Force, allowing it to guide him now. Qui-Gon’s fallen lightsaber now flew into his hand as he landed, and with a swift movement of his wrist, Obi-Wan cut through the Dathomirian man, ending the terrors he had caused, as he fell down the shaft, thus causing yet another fall in the rise of the Sith.

For a moment he stood and just breathed, thanking the Force for his strength found in his love for his Master and friend.

Obi-Wan, sensing his Master’s lifeforce still flickering within him, ran to his side, cradling his head as gently as he could, holding onto some form of hope that his Master could still live. 

“It’s... it’s too late.”

“No, no!” 

“Obi-Wan..” Qui-Gon croaked, as best he could, the color draining from his face slowly, marking him with death as his lifeforce continued to flicker, dimming with each passing second. “Promise... promise me you will train the boy.”

“Yes, master..” Obi-Wan wept in response. Qui-Gon raise his hand to wipe his tears, and Obi-Wan rested his cheek lightly against his finger, wishing that this wasn’t the end.

“He is... the Chosen One. He will bring balance. Train him. Help him. You and Rhea must help him....”

Obi-Wan now momentarily forgot his grief, filled with confusion at the mention of his friend. 

“Rhea and I? Master, what do you–”

“There is more to the prophecy than what you know..”

“What, Master, I–”

Qui-Gon hushed him, before uttering his final words. “Train him.” He uttered his final breath, and Obi-Wan, cradling him, felt as if he were destined for some infinite sadness.

╔═━────━▒ ۞ ▒━────━═╗

Rhea supposed Naboo was a truly beautiful planet, one to behold amongst the galaxy, but it seemed so bleak and somber now with the death of Master Qui-Gon Jinn. 

She watched the pyre his body laid upon gather with flames that rose to meet the stars in the sky, the smoke dancing among the small lights glittering above.

Standing beside the young boy from Tatooine who introduced himself as Anakin Skywalker, she listened silently to the loss of sound in the Force that was Qui-Gon’s lifeforce. They all felt it, the small darkness that passed over them at the loss of such a wise Jedi.

Obi-Wan stood on the other side of Anakin, who looking up to him, asked, “What will happen to me now?”

“The council has granted me permission to train you. You will be a Jedi, I promise.”

Rhea still could not believe that Obi-Wan had not only become a Jedi Knight, but had also defeated and killed a Sith lord. How they had come to rise again, was still a mystery, but it caused a shroud of confusion and chaos to flow through the Force.

It was hard for Rhea to muddle through, her mind now more clouded and confused than ever, the events having transpired seeming to all be connected — Dooku leaving the Order, the Chosen One supposedly being found, the Sith returning, her bond with Obi-Wan...

It all seemed too obvious in her mind to not be connected, but Mace Windu continued to tell her to be mindful of her thoughts, even if he didn’t know of her bond with Obi-Wan, he still saw her point of view as a quick jump to conclusions.

As the procession ended and people began to filter out from the area of the funeral pyre, she stayed even as little Anakin left along with the other Jedi, staying by Obi-Wan’s side, just as she had promised.

“You’re still here.”

He said, nonchalantly, not even bothering to turn to face her.

Rhea looked up, turning her gaze to fixate on his face. He looked... tired, almost old, held down not only by exhaustion but by the overwhelming sense of loss and sadness which was now being carried by the duty he felt to honor his masters final wish.

“Just as I said I would always be. Right by your side.”

He sighed, turning to look down upon her, his blue eyes meeting with her darker ones.

“So, you really were there, speaking to me.”

“I suppose I was.”

The two were silent for a moment, simply staring into each other’s eyes as if understanding everything they wished to say. Rhea reached up, cupping his cheek softly as tears began to fall down his face.

She then got up on her tippy toes, being much shorter than him, and placed a slow kiss on his forehead, soft and lovingly and holding every hope she had within her.

Obi-Wan sighed softly, “We can’t tell anyone about this bond. Not until I have figured out what exactly it is.”

“We.”

“What?”

“Not until we have figured out what exactly it is. We’re in this together. I told you this already, but you don’t seem to be getting it through your thick skull. I stand by you. Always.”

[cali-holland]

Golden Bullets, Ch. 3: All The Time in the World

Harrison Osterfield X Reader, James Bond!AU

Harrison Osterfield, Agent 007, was once the best MI6 agent around with the astounding reputation as a womanizer. Between illegal gold smuggling and black market trading of weapons, he finds himself deeper in his latest mission than intended, weaving himself into a web of the criminal organization, S.P.E.C.T.R.E.. At the center of it all is the one woman who’s never fallen for his charms- you, Agent 006, the best MI6 agent, the new assistant director of the program, and his new partner.

Word Count: 3000

Gif is not mine

Golden Bullets Masterlist

Masterlist   Harrison Osterfield Masterlist

Let me know if you want to be added to the series tag list

Warnings: violence (using toiletries as weapons bc why not), death, swearing, involuntary drug usage, drinking, vomiting (self-inflicted)

Featured Song: We Have All the Time in the World by Louis Armstrong from On Her Majesty’s Secret Service (1969)

 ~ “We have all the time in the world, time enough for life to unfold all the precious things love has in store”

~~~

“That can’t be her real name.”

“Tom, I’m being serious.” Harrison said, but even he couldn’t disguise the amused grin on his face when describing the intoxicatingly beautiful woman that was Pussy Galore to the quartermaster.

“Sounds like a horny teenage boy named her, right?” You joked, sitting beside Harrison on the hotel room couch. The laptop was propped up on the coffee table so that you and Harrison could both video chat with Tom, discussing the previous night.

“Is that your bullet wound?” He asked as he stepped closer to the camera, as if that’d help him see your bandaged arm better. Following last night’s events, it was difficult for you to really move your arm fluidly, so you had opted to wear a tank top on your day “off”. You leaned in, carefully taking off the bandage to show the damaged skin and stitches.

“Hurts like a bitch, but I’ll live.” You told him.

“Nice stitch work, 007. Practicing needlework in your spare time?” The quartermaster teased.

“Shove off.” Harrison rolled his eyes at his friend’s comment while you laughed, fixing the bandage, “Did you finish getting the specs on the flash drive?”

“I’m trying, but there seems to be an issue.” Tom stated, his eyes trailing over another computer screen. You looked down at the golden flash drive currently connected to the laptop. Sciarra was dead and all you had from last night was that one flash drive, you and Harrison both needed it to lead back to Goldfinger.

“You’re the greatest hacker of the century. What could possibly prevent you from getting past this flash drive’s security?” You asked.

“Thank you for the compliment, love, but I can’t hack it from here. It appears the security system on this drive is a replica of one I made, which should mean I can get into it from here, but it seems like I made it too sophisticated.” He paused, with a sigh, “I have a hunch about who could be behind this kind of security system.”

You looked between him and Harrison, both agents seemingly to wordlessly agree on who could be behind the drive. Knowing you’d want an answer, Harrison spoke up, “It’s Raoul Silva.”

“You mean the former agent turned cyberterrorist? I thought you killed him last year.” You said, and he gave you an odd look, “What? I told you I read your file, Osterfield.”

“I’m flattered you remember my cases.” He smirked, before Tom cleared his throat on the screen.

“As I was saying, I need to physically have the drive attached to my computer to get through its security and hopefully track Goldfinger. Silva was connected to numerous weapons dealers, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he helped Goldfinger set up security before he died.”

“So you can’t hack this?”

Tom looked at Harrison with furrowed eyebrows, questioning his friend. “Can’t hack this? Did you not listen to anything I just said? What exactly do you think my expertise is?”

“Sitting behind a computer screen.” He joked.

“Well, I'll hazard I can do more damage on my laptop sitting in my pajamas before my first cup of Earl Grey than you can do in a year in the field.” Tom said, and you laughed, nodding, fully aware of his skills, “Either way, I’ll meet you two in Montenegro to finish on the flash drive.”

“Montenegro?” You and Harrison both questioned.

“Right.” He laughed a little, realizing you two didn’t know about your next step of the mission, “M will call you two later tonight. I don’t know all the details, but I know you two are going to Montenegro, so I assume I’ll be meeting you there.”

“I’ve always wanted to go to Montenegro.” Harrison smiled fondly.

“I’ll let you two go. M should be calling soon.” Tom said before ending the call. You let out a small sigh, leaning back on the couch comfortably.

“Have you ever been to Montenegro?”

“Once, but not on a mission.” You replied, not really wanting to discuss your past trip. Unfortunately for you, your partner was observant and caught onto that- and he was also a bit of an asshole, so he pressed the topic.

“You know, I tried reading the Montenegro part of your file, but almost everything was redacted because the clearance of that file is only you and M.” He stated, watching you carefully as you shifted uncomfortably, tightening your jaw.

“What about it?”

“Who did you kill in Montenegro that is so private only you and M can know?” He questioned, and you glared over at him.

Before you could reply, the laptop began to ring, signaling an incoming call from M. You sat up on the couch, answering it.

“Agent 006, 007.” She greeted with the normal stern look on her face.

“M.” You and Harrison both nodded in reply to her.

“Q tells me you two found a flash drive, one suspected to be linked to Goldfinger.” She started, “And that Sciarra is dead.”

“The sniper got to him before we could get him in the DB10.” Harrison explained, and you swallowed a lump in your throat as M’s cold eyes trailed over the bandage on your arm.

“I also heard the sniper shot 006.” She said, “Tomorrow, you two will leave for Montenegro. Agent 009 has been tracking a private banker who funds terrorists, Le Chiffre. Le Chiffre seems to be Goldfinger’s competition at the moment. 009 reported multiple murders of Le Chiffre’s men with golden bullets through their skulls, all of which are sniper shots.”

“Forgive me, M, but if Agent 009 is on the case, then why are we going after Le Chiffre as well?” Harrison asked, voicing the question that was also floating around in your head. Why would MI6 need three agents on a private banker case?

“Because last we heard from 009 himself, he was being followed by Le Chiffre, and last night, local police found him tortured to death. His balls were so beaten, they could barely identify him as a man anymore- one of Le Chiffre’s signature torture methods.” At her words, Harrison squirmed uncomfortably beside you, subconsciously resting a hand over his crotch protectively. “Since Sciarra is a dead end until Q cracks that flash drive, Le Chiffre is our next best lead to Goldfinger.” 

“When do we leave tomorrow?” You spoke up.

“I am working with the Monaco police right now to acquire a private jet for the two of you. I will let you know in the morning. And, remember, this mission is not a personal one.” With that, she hung up the call and you shut off the laptop, getting up from the couch.

“What happened in Montenegro?” Harrison asked you, standing up from his spot on the couch. You didn’t reply as you pulled on a sweatshirt to hide your bandage. Wordlessly, you grabbed the ice bucket and left the hotel room.

You didn’t really need ice, but it wouldn’t hurt to ice your arm or tense muscles- besides, you needed to be away from your partner for a few minutes. Harrison was definitely getting more bearable, but you didn’t exactly want to tell him about Montenegro, not yet. When you came back from getting the bucket of ice, you saw a hotel room service busboy, standing outside of your door. Just before he knocked, you spoke up, “Is that for room 1964?”

“Yes.” The busboy replied almost nervously, holding up a bucket of champagne out to you.

“Thank you.” You smiled as you took the bucket from him, balancing it with your own ice bucket. He nodded, before disappearing down the hall. You laughed to yourself as you looked at the expensive bottle of champagne; leave it to Harrison to want to drink before leaving Monaco. Unlocking the hotel room door, you pushed it open, and Harrison looked up from his phone as he laid down on his bed.

“Champagne?” You offered, setting down the buckets on the coffee table.

“Why not celebrate Monaco?” He laughed. Both of you sat down on the couch, and he effortlessly popped open the champagne bottle. You held up two empty flute glasses for him to pour the champagne into.

“To Monaco.”

“To Monaco.” You clicked your glass against Harrison’s before both of you took sips of the smooth liquid.

“Does this taste odd to you?” Harrison asked, licking his lips from the very small amount of champagne that had actually made it in his mouth before he spit it back in.

“I’m not the person to ask. It’s been a while since I had nice champagne like this.” You laughed, taking another sip of the golden drink.

“It’s probably just too fancy for my tastebuds.” He chuckled, eyeing the glass.

“With all the martinis you drink, your tastebuds must be dead.” You teased, already starting to feel cloudy from the alcohol. You wondered how high the proof was, but that thought was gone as quickly as it came. “You drown yourself in martinis- shaken, not stirred.”

“Martinis are superior. You’d know that if you’d drown yourself in anything.” He quipped back.

“It’d take a while for me to drown in anything- I can hold my breath for six minutes.” You replied confidently, sipping some more of the champagne.

“I can only hold my breath for two. That’s impressive.” His eyes widened in surprise at the little fun fact.

“Most people can only hold them for two, but I was a swimmer growing up and I practiced holding my breath for long periods of time. I’ve got the best lungs on MI6.”

“And the best shot, too, the way I hear it.” Harrison laughed a little, before leaning in closer to you on the couch. Your face was close enough to his that you could feel his breath, and you felt yourself starting to, ironically, drown in his ocean blue eyes. With his voice low and just above a whisper, he asked, “How does someone get the reputation of a maneater?”

“How does someone get the reputation of a womanizer?” You replied, just as quietly. Pulling away from him, you took another long sip of your champagne, the once full glass now empty. The room fell silent before you solemnly spoke up, “I killed him.”

“Who?”

“My weakness.” You rolled up your tank top just enough to show the bullet wound scar on your hip. “I was in Montenegro on vacation with my last boyfriend. I spotted Le Chiffre at a casino, and I called M for permission to strike. When I returned to the hotel room, my boyfriend was there with Le Chiffre- he’d been working for him the whole time. I took a shot at him, but I missed, and he shot me. Then, I shot him again, but that time, I didn’t miss. The only reason Le Chiffre didn’t kill me was Agent 009. Le Chiffre ran, and 009 saved me.”

“So, Montenegro is-”

“Where I became the maneater.” You said. Harrison reached a hand out to touch the scar, but you slapped his hand away, fixing your shirt.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He replied, his voice filled with pity. You could tell he wasn’t just apologizing for overstepping and trying to touch the scar- no, he was apologizing for ever thinking less of you based on your reputation and he pitied you for your story, for all you had to go through to get that name. It was then that you realized he hadn’t really had much to drink of the champagne.

“Why’d you order this if you weren’t going to drink it?” You asked, and Harrison furrowed his eyebrows at you.

“What are you talking about?”

“The champagne. You ordered it when I got ice?”

“I didn’t order this.” The room fell silent, save for the clattering of your champagne flute against the floor from you dropping it. 

“Neither of us ordered this?” You questioned, and he shook his head. Immediately, you got up and stumbled to the bathroom, only making Harrison more confused.

“What are you doing?” Harrison followed after you.

“I’m puking because I was just fucking drugged. No wonder I’m so goddamn talkative right now.” You stated, sitting down in front of the toilet. You looked over at him in the hallway, “Are you going to call Q and have him analyze the champagne or are you going to watch me vomit up whatever drug is in my body? You had less than me, so figure out what happened.”

“How the fuck did someone drug us?” He grumbled, closing the door and rushing back into the room. He pulled up the laptop and called the quartermaster.

“I was just about to call you.” Tom said with a laugh, but his smile dropped as he saw Harrison pouring some champagne into a testing vial.

“Find out what’s in this. We’ve been drugged.” He explained, placing the vile on one of Q’s special testing trays, equipped for analyzing substances through the computer. The computer couldn’t figure out exactly what the substance was, but Q, being the genius he is, could based on the computer’s analysis.

“How did two of Britain’s top agents get drugged with a bottle of champagne?” Q asked, typing away at his computer. Harrison grimaced, hearing the distinct sounds of you in the other room. “Is- Is Agent 006 vomiting?”

“Yes, she’s trying to clear out her system.”

“Shouldn’t you be doing that too?” He looked at his friend skeptically.

“I didn’t even have a full sip of the champagne and it’s been in my system long enough that it’s already effective. She drank an entire glass flute, so however potent this drug is, she had a lot of it.”

“Well, you two got lucky.” Tom breathed out, reviewing the results. “It was a harmless drug, it’s not poisonous or anything. It’s meant to disorient you, weaken your fighting, and make you more conversational. It’s used for interrogations.”

“So that means-“ Before Harrison could finish his thought process, there was a knock at the hotel room door. He quietly shut off the computer, ending the phone call swiftly, and grabbed the golden flash drive, pocketing the valuable object. Grabbing his gun and yours, he softly moved across the room to conceal himself behind the wall.

“Room service.” A voice behind the door called, and Harrison quietly cocked his gun while pocketing yours.

In less than a moment, the door burst, and he kept himself quiet against the wall, hoping the silence in the bathroom meant you knew what was happening out here. Based on the sound of feet, Harrison calculated there were three men in the room now. One stepped past the wall, gun raised as he surveyed the room. Harrison stepped forward, shooting the man dead immediately.

Meanwhile, your ears perked up as you heard multiple footsteps outside the door. Your head was spinning from the drug concoction and the fact that you forced yourself to throw up. It wasn’t until you heard the first gunshot that you knew it was bad.

“Harrison,” You mumbled, pulling yourself up from the floor. Looking around the bathroom, you cursed at the lack of sharp objects. Grabbing your tweezers from the counter, you supposed they’d have to do. You flung open the bathroom door, jabbing the tweezers into the neck of the man nearest you. You kicked the other man down, pressing onto his neck with your foot.

“You’re okay.” Harrison breathed out, coming to stand beside you after he shot the other man, the one with the tweezers in his neck, again.

“Still light headed.” You replied. The man below you moved and Harrison was quick to point his gun at him threateningly. You stepped back, allowing his steadier foot to replace yours. 

“Who sent you?” He questioned.

“G-Goldfinger.” The man wheezed out.

“And was it Goldfinger who made you drug us? How did you find us?”

The man just laughed in response, and you heard the sounds of the police sirens flooding down the street.

“They heard the shots. We gotta go.” You said, and Harrison nodded. You quickly loaded the bags as your partner kept a watchful eye on the enemy. Knowing there was no way you and Harrison could escape if the police got involved, you two left the other man there, alive but weak.

“Next time, no champagne.” Harrison stated once the two of you were seated in the DB10. You sent a quick message to Moneypenny, who would send the word onto M that you and Harrison were en route in the DB10, no private jet necessary tomorrow. Considering how long the drive was, you knew it’d be enough time for you two to meet with Q in Montenegro and catch Le Chiffre.

“You’re going to drive us to Montenegro in this car, and I’m going to forget I ever told you anything about that god awful place.” You groaned, leaning your head against the window. “What did they drug us with?”

“Q says it’s a harmless interrogation drug.” He replied, flicking his eyes over to you, a new softness to them, “Get some rest, you’ve had a rough go.”

You turned to face ahead, trying to get yourself comfortable, and the car was silent for a moment, the only sound coming from the DB10 moving against the road and the quiet Duran Duran song playing over the speakers. You looked over at Harrison, who had his eyes trained on the road, “Thank you.”

“For what?” He asked, genuinely curious about the sudden appreciation.

“For saving me yesterday and patching me up.” You said softly, studying his face for a moment, before shifting to look ahead once more. “I’d do the same for you.”

“Let’s hope you’ll never have to.”

~~~

General Tag List: @viagracex​ @theamazingtomholland​ @Hellomoveonby @heyitsshrez @harrisonosterfieldhazmyheart​ @joyleenl​ @t-o-m-holland​ @lonikje​ @sleepybesson​ @sunkisseddreamer​

Harrison Tag List: @Calhtlland @tomkindholland​ @where-art-thau-romeo​

Series Tag List: @quinjetboi @baby-haz @kickingn-ames @rougese7en @hollandsosterfield @nj01​ @it-is-rebel-owl-ma-dudes @spencerreidxoxo​

[carolmaximoffs]

THE GOOD DOCTOR

CHAPTER FOUR

Ch. Summary: Thea gets a suspicious text from an unknown number. She risks sharing her secret with the team, in hopes of finding who’s behind them.

Warnings: stillbirth, vague depiction of childbirth, loss of a child, Agents of S. H. I. E. L. D. spoilers, cursing, probably some spelling errors

Pairings (bc I guess now is as good a time as ever to add this): Sam Wilson x WOC OFC

A/N: i’m on a roll and i don’t think it’s a good one...regardless, italics are a flashback (in the form of a dream). bold italics are texts, though that i hope is obvious... things get a little weird in this chapter but it’s bc i was watching OUAT and regina’s weird tomb w all those hearts is partially responsible. i’m sorry if this isn’t your jam right away but i promise this isn’t going to be a dark fic! this is probably about as creepy as it’ll get. again PLEASE read the warnings. 

Taglist (which is open!): @marvelousmrstark​

    THE DOCTOR AND THE CAPTAIN dance around each other for a week following lunch. She still hangs out with Wanda, and sometimes Bucky and Sam, but Steve is always miraculously busy. When Thea wakes up early to train with Natasha, Steve is always conveniently just leaving the kitchen as she enters. It isn’t until a Saturday morning that it comes to a halt.

    Tony quite literally drags Steve by the ear into the med-bay, which Thea would find funny if she weren’t loath to see him. America’s golden boy, and she’d been the one to tick him off. She knew he was a cautious man, suspicious due to events in recent years, and even in his past; it didn’t stop her from feeling incredibly awkward after his seemingly blatant distrust of her.

    The dark-haired man releases his hold on Steve and crosses his arms. The tips of Steve’s ears are grow red as Thea looks up from the paperwork she’s been doing, in regards to Clint’s mission injury a few days ago.

    “Talk,” Tony says as sternly as possible.

    “Thea, it wasn’t my place to question you about your abilities,” Steve starts, and Tony gives him a thumbs up while nodding encouragingly. Thea resists the urge to roll her eyes. “I...you made it clear you were just here as a doctor, and if that’s all you want to be then I will respect that. Thank you again for...my leg. And while I do think-”

    “Alright, shows over, nice job, thanks Dory!” Tony hastily interjects, gripping Steve’s forearm and steering him out of the small office. Thea rises to her feet.

    “Wait,” She commands, and they stop, Tony’s shoulders sagging. “What do you think?”

    “I think,” Steve says, turning around and meeting her eyes, “That your powers could be a great asset to the team. Outside of medical situations.”

    Thea realizes what he’s getting at. It takes everything in her to remain calm, lifting her chin just a little.

    “Whether that’s true or not, I’m perfectly happy with what I’m doing. Thank you for the apology, Steve.” Her words come out stiff, a little sharper than she means them to. Nevertheless, Thea shakes Steve’s hand when he offers it, and maintains her rigid posture until she hears the main doors to the med-bay close.

    “I tried to warn him,” Tony offers, having shifted to lean against the doorway. Thea drops into her chair with a sigh, leaning her head back as she clicks a pen absently.

    “I just wish everybody would let it go. It’s not...it’s not cool, it’s not useful.” Thea sits up straight, tossing the pen aside and gripping her desk. “I mean, what would I do with my powers in a fight? Put somebody to sleep? Stop their heart? I’m not...I’m not a killer, Tony.”

    “I know you’re not,” He says softly, approaching her desk to pry her fingers off it. “I won’t tell you that I agree with him, you know I do, but I will tell you it is 100% your decision.”

    Thea manages a thank you, and, bless him, Tony leaves. She closes the folder on Clint’s mission after signing a few more pages and sets it into her main desk drawer. Peering as far as she could to be sure Tony was gone, she pulls a key from around her neck and unlocks a little side drawer.

    Inside, only two items lay. One is a picture of her and her brother, only a year after she’d been adopted. Fury had explained his choice of family as ‘somewhere Thea could blend in, feel comfortable’, and it was perfect. The Triplett’s adopted her within 6 months of fostering her; she was home. In the photo, Antoine stands much taller than she, with an arm around her shoulders and the other wiggling into her abdomen. She, as a result of his tickling, is frozen in time laughing openly.

    Thea sets the photo aside and reaches back into the drawer for the other object. It’s a locket, one Antoine had given her. Though the chain is thin, the charm attached is sizable for a necklace. It vibrates with energy that might make Thea nervous if she wasn’t so intimately familiar with it. The click of the lock coming undone still sends chills down her spine, regardless.

    Within it, shrouded in the gold of Thea’s magic, beats a tiny human heart.

                                                                -

     That night, dinner is a lonely affair. Steve had left for a mission shortly after seeing Thea, Natasha and Sam with him. Bucky and Wanda had invited her to join them for supper, but Thea feigned having work to do; Tony had gone on a date with Pepper. Now, as the stove clock blinks 9:30, Thea settles at the breakfast bar with a bowl of leftover dumplings.

    She eats in silence, only disrupted when behind her, the TV clicks on. A glance over her shoulder shows her Bucky, flipping channels despite the book open on his lap. He doesn’t acknowledge her, however, so Thea returns to her meal, until her phone pings in her back pocket.

UNKNOWN NUMBER

    Thea frowns at the device, but opens the message anyways.

UNKNOWN NUMBER

Funny how the good doctor avoids her powers

with friends, but not with family.

    Thea’s heart begins to pound. Not only had she made sure she was alone earlier, and every time she went into her drawer, but the key is always with her. Any assistants Tony hired had never even been through the office - it was really only for paperwork, anyways, and they always left it on the desk for Thea to go through later. She feels nauseous, suddenly: the only other person on Earth who knew about the locket, and it’s true nature, was dead.

    “You alright, Doc?” Comes a voice, and Thea jumps. She swallows as Bucky eyes her curiously, slipping her phone back into her pocket and nodding.

    “Yeah, I...yes. I’m good,” Thea replies, but her voice quivers just enough that Bucky grips her arm as she moves past him to put her bowl in the sink.

    “Thea-” He tries, but Thea pulls her arm away, giving him a tight, apologetic smile.

    “Bucky, I’m fine. Seriously.” Thea insists before she ducks out of the kitchen. She can’t shake the feeling of his gaze, half pity and half suspicion, even as she shuts her bedroom door. After a moment of thought, she locks it, for good measure, and closes every curtain. No chances taken. She showers and changes from scrubs to sweats, and as she settles into her pillows she pulls out her phone again.

     But not with family.

     Thea still feels nauseous, and without even thinking, she types out a response.

                                                                                                           Who is this?

    There’s no immediate answer. Thea groans as she shuts her light off and tosses the phone aside. She tosses and turns until finally falling into nightmares.

                                                                     -

    2014

    Thea laughs as Antoine crouches to coo over her quickly growing stomach. One month from her due date, but her brother has been devoted to her child from the moment Thea found out she was pregnant. She hadn’t even thought she could have children, nor had she really thought about them with the insane hours she worked, but she too was excited.

    “Hi little bugger,” He whispers. Thea scolds him for language, but he ignores her. “I’m your Uncle Trip. We’re gonna be best friends, ‘cause your mama’s gotta be strict.”

    Thea flicks his forehead, and he only smiles up at her before rising to his feet.

    “I’m sorry,” He starts, and Thea collapses dramatically back into her couch. “About Ward. If we had- if I had known, Dot, you know-”

    “Ant, it’s fine. Not your fault at all,” Thea tries to reason with him, but since learning of Grant’s true nature, she’d been struggling as well. Her long-time boyfriend had seemed so...so wonderful. Though Thea tried not to think about how he had seemed, tried not to think about him at all; it just spiraled until she was left wondering how much of it was lies.

    Suddenly, she cries out, and Antoine rushes to her as she doubles over. His voice floats in and out of focus, the pain consuming her.

    “Dot? Hey, Dot, what’s up? Dor…”

     Thea feels only as if she blinks, and when she opens her eyes, she’s in a hospital bed. She’s hooked to various machines, and the room itself is crowded with people. Sound is still distorted, but Antoine is right by her side, gripping her hand. It’s a small relief.

    “It’s too soon,” Thea protests as an unfamiliar woman crouched by her feet  tells her to push. She doesn’t notice that she can only hear one heart monitor beeping. “Please, it’s too soon-”

    With further insistence, Thea pushes anyways, the promise of ending the pain too tempting. A scream tears from her throat. It feels like only minutes before she feels all pressure lift; she'd done it. Yet the cry she expects does not come. She fees . Thea holds onto her brother’s hand for dear life.

    “Ant? What’s happening? What’s wrong?” She whimpers, but Antoine is asking the doctors the same questions. Finally, they file out slowly, until only one doctor remains, a nurse standing just behind her, almost out of sight.

    “Ms. Triplett, we are so sorry. Your son...was stillborn. You can...you can still hold him if you’d like.”

    Thea’s body is wracked with sobs, but she holds her hands out regardless. The nurse places her unmoving child, swaddled with his eyes closed, into her arms. Antoine wraps an arm around her shoulders as Thea lets go of his hand to hold her son’s. The doctor mentions something about giving her time, and she and the nurse file out.

    “He’s perfect,” Thea whispers. She stares down at where her dark fingers encase his tiny tan hand, and her crying ceases. A deep determination settles into her bones. “I want to keep him.”

    “Thea.” Antoine gasps, alarmed, but she looks up at him with pleading eyes.

     “Please. Please, Ant, you know I would never ask you anything like this but I-he’s my son.”

    And as Antoine takes up a stray scalpel, Thea’s heart shatters all over again.

                                                                   -

    Thea jerks into a sitting position, gasping for breath. Her hands scramble for the key, feeling it still secure around her neck. Without thinking, she slides her feet into slippers and races from her room. She’s almost to the elevator when someone calls her name.

    “Thea?”

    It’s Sam, voice raspy from sleep. He’s still in his tactical suit, though without wings and goggles, evidently having been so wiped out he hadn’t changed. They must’ve just gotten back, then.

    “Sam,” she replies breathlessly. Thea struggles to tamp down the panic trying to eat her alive as he emerges fully from his bedroom, making his way to her. “I thought you had a mission.”

    “Just an in and out thing,” He replies, rubbing his eyes. “Are you alright? It’s 2:30.”

    “Oh, yeah, I’m great,” Thea lies, forcing a small laugh. Sam doesn’t look like he believes her, but she presses on. “Just heading to the kitchen, glass of water, you know.”

    “Then I’ll join you,” Sam says, taking another step towards her, and Thea’s heart feels ready to burst from her chest.

    “No!” Sam looks taken aback. His usually laid-back demeanor is uneasy. Thea gulps, fingers coming back up to twist into the chain of her necklace. “I mean, no, thank you. I also left something, um, downstairs, in my, my office so really, you should go back to bed. Need some rest.”

    She forces a laugh, but Sam only sighs, running a hand over his face. “Show me.”

    Thea swallows the bile rising in her throat and tries to steady her breathing as he follows her to the elevator. No more words are spoken as they walk down the hallway past the garage, Tony’s lab, and enter the medbay. Thea takes the key from around her neck as they enter the tiny back office. He crosses his arms expectantly as she unlocks the drawer.

    The locket nearly slips from her trembling hands, so Sam takes it instead, and Thea can’t find it in her to protest. He opens it, and closes it almost right after, staring at Thea with wide eyes.

     “What...the fuck?” Sam whispers, and Thea feels her eyes burn with tears. “Is…is that-”

    He struggles to get the words out, and Thea lets the first tears roll as she nods. Sam silently sets the locket back in the drawer and shuts it. “Who?”

    Thea takes a deep, shaky breath. An understanding seems to have grown between them, though Thea isn’t sure she wants him to voice it out loud. She squeezes her eyes shut to try to block out the semi-horrified look on his face.

    “It’s my son’s.”

                                                              -

    Thea swears Sam to secrecy, but he only agrees on the condition that she’ll tell the team as soon as she can.They return to their separate rooms, Thea with the locket clasped securely about her neck. Sure she won’t be able to sleep, not now, not when someone...two someones now know her secret. She opts instead to perch in the bay window of her bedroom, staring out over the city. Thea loses exact track of time as she immerses herself in thoughts, and the sun shines high above the city when FRIDAY’s voice reaches her ears.

    “Dr. Triplett, Boss wishes you’d join the team in the living room, please.” 

    Thea, habitually, tightens her fingers around the key, and now the locket as well. Quickly, she changes from her sleep shirt into a pullover and jeans, opting to head downstairs barefoot. As FRIDAY had said, the entire team is already spread out across the living room. Tony rises to his feet to guide Thea to sit next to him before clearing his throat.

   “Birdbrain said you had something to tell us, but I knew if you’d kept something from me it must be serious,” Tony explains, and Thea finds herself nodding. “Didn’t want to uh, make you feel under any more pressure with a conference room.” 

    Thea nods, hesitating. She takes the beat of silence to look over everyone, feeling almost as if it was the day she’d arrived. Wanda is curled up to Vision, Natasha and Steve taking up the rest of Tony and Thea’s couch. Steve’s sat forward, elbows rested on his knees, already intently listening. Bucky lingers in the kitchen doorway. Rhodey and Sam, too, are on their feet, and when she meets his eyes, Sam gives her an encouraging nod. The surgeon is unable to voice the truth, not without any leeway. She unhooks the locket from her neck and opens it.

    The moment Thea does this, gasps and murmurs flood the room. After just a few seconds, once she was sure everyone had seen it’s contents, she closes the locket and gently sets it into her lap. Tony is floundering beside her, but Thea speaks first. 

    “That is my son’s heart,” She croaks, a little surprised at the brokenness of her voice. She finds herself meeting Sam’s eyes as she speaks, as she hadn’t even explained it to him last night. 

   “He was stillborn and...I didn’t handle it very well.” Thea continues. She thinks Rhodey mutters an ‘obviously’, but he’s quickly shushed. A sob builds in her throat as she talks, but she fights it. “My brother was there...he um, he had some medical training as well, he...he took out the heart for me, and I healed my son’s body so they wouldn’t suspect anything. He’d never had a heartbeat to begin with s-so nobody said anything. His body was cremated. A year later, my brother died. He was the only person who knew about...about Philip’s heart.” 

   To Thea’s shock, Natasha reaches out to grab her hand. With her free hand, Thea swipes at stray tears. When Thea looks over at the other woman, Natasha is watching her with a knowing expression. Vision’s voice cracks the moment in two. 

    “Pardon me but...where was the father?” He asks hesitantly, and Thea laughs bitterly, to their shock. 

   “Out of the picture. He was a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent I met through my brother but...” Thea shakes her head, reminiscing. “He turned out to be undercover Hydra. Said he only knew me for me but, he read files on me long before he even joined S.H.I.E.L.D.”

    Natasha is nodding in Thea’s peripheral, and Thea recalls in the back of her mind that Nat had worked for S.H.I.E.L.D. in the past. She must have at least some inkling of what Thea was on about. The younger woman pulls her hand back into her lap gently, to wrap both of them around the locket.

    “It doesn’t matter now. He’s dead and irrelevant. But last night, I got a text from an unknown number,” Thea reveals. “It was only one thing but it...it really shook me because yesterday I had looked at Philip’s heart. And then I get that message...‘Funny how the good doctor avoids her powers with friends, but not with family.’” 

   “And your brother was the only person who knew, but he’s...passed on as well, right?” Steve interjects, and Thea nods. “How did Sam find out?” 

    Thea fights a smile. Part of her felt...relief. She hadn’t talked about this with anyone before, and never planned to. Even if the team was finding out now, she was glad to have been able to trust Sam first. She takes a deep, slightly shaky breath before going on. 

   “I had a dream, last night. Or a nightmare, really. I...remembered the day Philip was born. Or, not born, I guess. I don’t know. But the dream and the messages, I was so shaken up and I went to go check on the locket. The key to the drawer it was in is always...” Thea untucks the key around her neck, “but I was so paranoid...Sam caught up with me in the hallway. Had me take him down to show him. I just...I guess I knew it was time to tell someone.” 

    All at once, Thea’s exhaustion hits her. It’s clear to the other’s that she’s finished sharing. Steve, ever the leader, nods sympathetically and reaches over to pat Thea’s shoulder as he stands. 

   “Well, you did the right thing,” He states, and the sentiment is followed with murmurs of agreement from the team. “Especially with this...unknown person messaging you.”  

    “He’s right, DT,” Tony says, speaking for the first time since Thea had sat down. He’s risen to his feet as well, already rubbing his hands together. “In fact, give me your phone. I’ll see if I can’t figure out who’s behind this.” 

    Thea agrees, though she left her phone in her bedroom, and Tony tells her not to worry. After Thea promises to bring it down to the lab ASAP, the group disperses. Nat pulls her aside with a surprisingly kind smile as she makes towards the elevator. 

    “Philip for Coulson, right?” The redhead inquires. Thea smiles back, a little embarrassed, but she nods. 

   “He was one of the one’s who rescued me as a kid,” Thea elaborates as she presses the button for the residential floor. Nat nods, but she’s suddenly bumped by Sam as he slips into the elevator with Thea. 

    “Sorry, Nat!” He calls out as the doors close. The man spares the buttons a quick once over, but evidently they’re going to the same place. Sam settles in beside Thea without pushing a single one’ she tries to ignore the fact that he’s comfortable enough to stand so close their elbows brush, despite all he’s learned of her. They exit the lift together, not engaging in conversation, but he walks her all the way to her door near the end. Right as she goes to enter, he coughs. Thea turns back to him with a raised brow.

   “I know that couldn’t have been easy for you,” Sam tells her. It’s a redundant statement, but the soft quality to his voice prevents Thea from being annoyed. “Steve was right though, because we can...you know, we can help you now.” 

    Thea bites back a scoff as she pushes open her door and walks inside. True to her instinct, Sam follows. 

    “I mean with the texts, of course. ‘Cause that’s some creepy shit,” He hastily amends. “Although...I do know a little about PTSD.” 

    This has Thea stopping in her tracks. She turns around, arms crossed, to meet his eyes again. Sam’s face wears a strange look she can’t read, but she raises a brow as nonverbal permission to go on. 

   “If you ever...wanted to talk to anyone. Not like, a shrink. Like a...a friend.” He’s nervous, Thea realizes, as he scrubs a hand over the back of his neck and shifts his weight. Despite the tightness gripping her heart, Thea gives him her most appreciative and reassuring smile. 

   “Thanks, Sam,” She says. He nods, more to himself than anything, and turns to leave as Thea turns back to her dresser. As she picks up her phone, she gasps. “Sam?!” 

   His footsteps almost echo as a new bout of queasiness washes over Thea. She doesn’t hear what he says as she stares at the screen, barely registering him so close to her as he takes a look. 

UNKNOWN NUMBER You know who it is. Return to

the place it all began, for it

is the place that all ends. 

[kpopfanfictrash]

A Lie of Omission

Author: kpopfanfictrash 

Creative Content Contributor: @baebae-goodnight (thank u for this moodboard I keep using bc it’s so good)

Pairing: You / Jimin

Rating: PG-13 [ fluff + enemies to lovers!AU + Hogwarts!AU ]

Word Count: 3,655

Summary:  A series of drabbles about Slytherin!Jimin and Hufflepuff!Y/N, the sister of his self-declared mortal enemy.

A/N: These drabbles are non-sequential.

“I’m not going,” you mutter, slumped low in your chair. Before you, the Hufflepuff common room fire roars cheerily, as only a Hufflepuff fire can.

Sandra sits in the chair next to you, scribbling notes on a fresh sheet of parchment. “And why not?” she hums, not looking up from her book. “Why aren’t you attending the Yule Ball, again?”

“Because,” you inform, groaning out loud. “In order to attend, I would need a date.” Slouching even lower, you stare at the flames of the fire. “And in order to have a date, someone would need to ask me.”

Finally, Sandra snaps the book shut. “Ridiculous,” she announces.

Glancing sideways, you frown. “There’s no boggart here, San.”

Sandra rolls her eyes. “Not Riddikulus, I am calling you ridiculous. As in, your way of thinking is absurd.”

Slightly offended, you push yourself higher. “And how am I being absurd?” you demand, crossing both arms over the table. “I would be fine going solo, if anyone else were. But even you have a date,” you complain, nudging her elbow. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for you and Hoseok but it leaves me as the third wheel. That’s no fun.”

Sandra sighs, poking you back. “That leaves you as a chicken, not the third wheel.” Standing up from the table, she stretches both arms overhead. “If you really don’t want to go, you don’t have to. But you’re selling yourself short here – there are plenty of guys without dates. Or,” Sandra brightens, “you could ask Lucas to set you up with someone! What about Seokjin, in Gryffindor? He’s super dreamy, and isn’t he close to your brother?”

With a grimace, you shrug. “I guess so, but Lucas’ friends all see me as a kid.” With hesitance, you remove a certain not-friend of Lucas’ from mind. “I would sooner die than attend the Yule Ball with Seokjin and have him curse potential suitors because their ties were askew, or something.”

Sandra snorts, picking up her bag. “Well,” she accepts. “You’re on your own, then. I just feel like this is a total waste of dress robes.”

Sighing dramatically, you stare into the fireplace. Sandra is correct, you know this – you are being a giant chicken. The Yule Ball does not happen often and Filch, along with the rest of the staff, have been decorating for weeks. It has become somewhat dangerous to venture down a hallway alone, for fear of mistletoe popping into being above you.

With a twist of your lips, you scan the common room and consider your options. By the fireplace stands Greg, a fellow Sixth-year in a few of your classes. He is nice enough, semi-cute and you hear he is not taking anyone to the ball yet. When you open your mouth to mention his name as an option, Sandra cuts you off.

“Not Greg,” she responds, shoving books in her bag. When you blink up at her, Sandra laughs and shrugs. “Sorry, I saw you looking. But anyways, Greg asked Julie Quinn to the Yule Ball this morning.”

“Oh,” you exhale, slumping back in your seat. “Then I guess I’m screwed, huh?”

Even as you bemoan, a nagging voice inside you whispers you could always ask Jimin. The two of you have not spoken for weeks, not since you realized during your last um, meeting that you were becoming too attached to said fuck buddy. Shifting uncomfortably, you attempt to push his face from mind. Jimin has not asked anyone else to the ball the last that you heard and you cannot help but wonder if this is because of you.

It is a silly thought, a baseless one and you banish it instantly. Jimin does not care and yet, for some reason you continue to wonder. Your relationship has been clear from the start. A way for him to get off, and a way for you to get practice – but now, you find yourself staring down at the table. Towards the end, it seemed as though there might be more. Jimin lingered once or twice after you hooked up, helped you with spells a couple of times and then there was the feeling you had, when Jimin fucked you from behind and pulled you against his chest.

Pressing your thighs tightly together, you attempt to forget the brush of his lips on your neck, his hands hot on your body. It felt strangely intimate, in a way it never had before and you do not know what to do with that piece of information. Shaking your head, you look up from the table. Sandra is right about two things, although she does not realize that fact.

You are being a chicken about the ball, just as you are being a chicken about Park Jimin. You should have told him you did not want to see him and instead, you fed him excuse after excuse. None of which were truthful. It is only – you did not want to tell Jimin it is over. You still do not want to tell Jimin it is over.

Why that is so, you have not allowed yourself to consider.

Drumming your fingertips over the table, you stare into the fireplace and frown. “I don’t think I’m going to go,” you announce. “I’ll just stay in the common room, conjure some Butterbeer and drink myself to sleep, or something.”

“And miss the ball?” a voice asks, sliding into the empty chair at your table.

Both you and Sandra glance sideways, surprised to find none other than Kim Taehyung, Hufflepuff’s golden boy in the seat. He grins in your direction, shaking honeyed-blonde hair from his gaze.

Without meaning to, your heart beats a tiny bit faster. Upon your arrival at Hogwarts, Taehyung was one of the first people to be kind to you – to you, Y/N and not you, Lucas’ sister. He sat beside you during the sorting ceremony and cheered when you got into Hufflepuff after he did. Taehyung is sweet, kind and it does not help that he transformed overnight into one of the most attractive men you have ever laid eyes on.

“I – Taehyung,” you blink, surprised by the suddenness of his appearance. You two used to be close, but have not talked much in years. “How are you doing?”

“Oh, you know,” Taehyung sighs, waving a hand. “I’ve been better. Been so busy studying for exams, the ball completely slipped my mind.”

“Oh?” Straightening, Sandra stares meaningfully at you. “Does that mean you don’t have a date, Taehyung?”

Sadly, he shakes his head. “Afraid not,” Taehyung explains, peering at you from beneath his lashes. “And – not to be weird, but did you just say the same, Y/N?”

Staring, heat creeps up the back of your neck. Things are a bit fuzzy and for a moment, you are about to say yes – until Jimin’s face flashes, unbidden, through your mind. With a frown, you attempt to shove this aside. Jimin is not relevant to this conversation, nor is he a realistic option.

Even if you two were more than fuck buddies – which you are not, you remind yourself – Jimin could never bring you as his date to the ball. For one, dances are not his scene and for another, Lucas would be absolutely furious. If his little sister were to show up on the arm of his mortal enemy, Lucas would lose his shit and to be honest, you could not blame him. Jimin has done some shitty things to him in the past (the spaghetti hair comes to mind) but then again, so has Lucas to Jimin.

Shaking free from your reverie, you glance at Taehyung. “I – uh, yeah,” you nod. “I wasn’t planning on going at all, actually.”

Taehyung seems surprised by this. “You’re not? Why?”

Slinging her bag over her shoulder, Sandra moves to leave. “Looks like I’m not needed here anymore,” she declares. “Y/N, I’ll be getting ready in the tower, okay?”

“Okay,” you agree, watching her go. Once she has disappeared, you return to Taehyung. “I don’t know,” you admit, trying not to look embarrassed. “I guess there was just no one I wanted to ask.”

“Oh.” Taehyung pauses, thoughtful. The yellow in his robe sets off the golden brown of his hair, making you stare. “What about me?”

“What about you?” you blurt out, surprised.

Taehyung chuckles, leaning in conspiratorially. “Would you want to go to the Yule Ball with me, Y/N?”

For a moment, you can only stare. “Are you shitting me?” you blurt, as Taehyung grins.

“No,” he insists, shaking his head. His expression turns incredulous. “Why would you think that? You don’t have a date, I don’t have a date and I’ve always liked you, Y/N.”

The way he says this – so easily, so casually, gives you pause. For a moment, you are floored. “As a friend?” you squeak out.

Taehyung blinks, his confidence somewhat shaken. “Yeah,” he breathes, tilting his head. “As a friend, I like you.”

His voice is soft, adamant and you stare at him for a moment. Jimin’s face flashes again through your mind, which is becoming annoying, to be honest. Here is a great guy, asking you to a dance and all you can think about is that tiny, little dent about Park Jimin’s lips.

It makes you tilt your chin up and nod. “Alright,” you say, standing up from the table. “I’d love to go with you, Taehyung.”

Expression brightening, he stands as well. “Great,” Taehyung beams. “I’ll meet you in the common room tonight, okay?”

“Sure,” you agree, turning to head towards the stairs. At the bottom, you pause with one hand on the railing. “My dress robes are silver,” you say, turning to face him. Taehyung smiles, having been caught watching you go. “In case you wanted to know.”

“Silver sounds good,” he responds, nodding as you turn and disappear out of view.

Sandra, obviously, is ecstatic about this turn of events. She helps you get ready, chattering incessantly about meaningless things while twisting your hair around competent fingers. At the end of it all, you barley recognize yourself in the mirror – in a good way. Marveling, you turn your face side to side and wonder what, exactly, Sandra did. Your eyes look larger, skin dewier and fresher.

“Wow,” you exhale, glancing at Sandra. “You outdid yourself.”

“Taehyung is gonna freak,” she grins.

She is not wrong, exactly. As you descend to the common room and find Taehyung and Hoseok already waiting, he does a double take at your entrance. “Wow,” Taehyung exhales, eyes wide. “Bet everyone is kicking themselves about not asking you first, huh?”

Ducking your head, you hide a smile. “Stop that,” you chide him, without really meaning it.

Taehyung laughs, taking your arm in his to exit the common room. A group of students head towards the Yule Ball together, talking and laughing the entire way to the Hall. Taehyung walks slower than the rest, falling behind so you can walk side by side.

“So,” he exhales, looking at you. He is beautiful in his slim, black robes and bright silver accents – Taehyung has always been adept at charms, you recall. “I’m glad you said yes. I don’t want you to think that… my bad timing means I’m any less happy to be here.”

He seems nervous, which is sweet and you smile. “You don’t need to explain anything,” you assure Taehyung, entering the Great Hall. “I’m just happy to be…”

You trail off when you see Jimin.

He looks up at the same time you do, freezing in place. While Taehyung recovered quickly from your visual though, Jimin remains frozen in shock.

He is alone, dressed entirely in black with nothing to accent his clothing. Despite this, you find you cannot look away. The blonde of his hair is swept back, a style Jimin seldom wears. You once told him you liked it. You wonder if he remembers.

Realizing you are motionless, you turn. You are not here alone, you remind yourself – Taehyung is your date and, looking upwards, you manage a smile. “The decorations are lovely,” you finish, lamely.

They are; this is true, but they are not the thing which makes your heart pound.

Taehyung glances around the room as you walk. “True,” he agrees, pulling you closer. It could just be your imagination, but you swear he looks at Jimin.

Jimin is not looking at you, though, having turned away as quickly as you did. When you leave, you glance backwards to spot him taking a sip of his drink. Jimin’s grip on the glass is tight, his jaw is clenched and you worry about this for a moment before turning away.

Tonight, Jimin is not your problem.

“Punch?” Taehyung offers, coming to a stop at the bowl.

Gently, you nod and remove your arm from his grasp. “Please,” you agree.

For the first time, you notice the room you are in. The Great Hall has truly been transformed overnight. Great, sparkling icicles hang down from the ceiling and golden baubles float by, dancing on air. The room is spiced somehow and you draw in a deep breath, reveling in the crisp feeling of winter.  

Leaning forward, Taehyung hands you a cup. “Y/N?” he asks, a note of concern in his voice.

Startled, you did not realize you were staring elsewhere. “Sorry,” you respond, accepting the drink. “I was just... looking at the decorations.”

Chuckling quietly, Taehyung follows when you exit the table. “Right,” he nods, glancing at you. “You do seem kind of distracted, Y/N. Maybe I’m overstepping, but… was there someone else you were hoping would ask you?”

The way he says this, with a gentle arch of his brow, makes you wonder if he knows. You wonder if Taehyung saw the way you stared at Jimin when you entered; stomach sinking, you hope he did not because Taehyung does not deserve that.

Tonight, he is your date and you resolve to be better. “I,” you exhale, shrugging a shoulder. “Maybe, yes. There was someone else. But the point is – he didn’t ask me, right?”

Shyly, Taehyung ducks his head. “I guess,” he admits, glancing up. “I’m glad you’re here with me, anyways.”

Warmth spreads through your chest, a second away from something more when a hand closes over your elbow. You whirl, expecting to see Jimin and instead, find your brother.

“I need to talk to you,” Lucas hisses. Glancing over your shoulder, he spots Taehyung and forces a smile. “I’m sorry, man. Could you give me a minute alone with my sister?”

Taehyung slowly nods, looking to you for approval. “If Y/N wants to, sure.”

Gratefully, you appreciate his distinction of word choice. “Yeah,” you agree, allowing Lucas to pull you sideways. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

Taehyung nods, watching you go as Lucas drags you across the length of the Great Hall. “Ow,” you complain, turning to swat at his arm. “Watch the robe, Lucas. I’m – oh,” you blink, as he suddenly turns.

“Is it true?” Lucas demands. He glares at you down the slope of his nose.

Staring back, uncertainty unfurls in your stomach. “Is what true?” you ask, suddenly afraid what he means.

Lucas could not know about Jimin; that would be impossible. You have not seen Jimin in weeks and the last time you two hooked up, no one saw. Your stomach churns though, wondering if you messed up. Perhaps someone saw you both exit the classroom; maybe someone saw, and maybe someone told Lucas.

Rolling his eyes, your brother lets out a huff. “Is it true,” he repeats, “that mom sent candy cane cookies in the holiday packages?”

A bubble of relief pops inside. “Oh my god,” you complain, pushing his hand from your arm. “Are you serious, Lucas? You’re pissed off at me because of candy cane cookies?”

“Ah!” Lucas declares, pointing a finger. “So, it is true! I should have known the moment you offered to pick up my package from the Owlery! I should have known when you took two days to give me mine! You stole my cookies, didn’t you?” he demands, thoroughly cross.

Fleetingly, it crosses your mind that if Lucas is so mad about this, god knows what might happen were he to ever find out about Jimin. This thought makes your stomach sink, heart twisting for reasons you do not understand. If Lucas is so mad over stolen cookies, you can only imagine how hurt he would be if you – literally – slept with the enemy.

Slowly, you swallow. The corners of your eyes burn and for the first time tonight, you regret accepting Taehyung’s invitation. He is a nice guy, yes but he is not – stopping yourself, you do not think his name.

“Fine, whatever,” you exhale, returning to Lucas. “Yes, I ate the dumb cookies. I’ll have mom make you more, okay?”

Lucas squints. “With extra sprinkles and frosting?”

“Yes, your highness.”

He grins, folding his arms. “Okay, fine. I declare this sibling fight over.”

“Was there ever one to begin with?” you groan, patting his cheek as you move to walk past. “Anyways, you can consider the delay in cookies payback!” you call over your shoulder, stepping out of the alcove.

“For what?” Lucas responds, his expression one of pure disbelief.

“Remember that time you broke my Rememberall?” you yell, nearly out of earshot.

“We were five!” Lucas cries, as you slip around the corner.

Laughing, you move until someone else grabs your elbow. Really, you think as you are tugged into a hallway, this is starting to become an unfortunate habit.

Jimin pushes you against the wall. “Hey,” he exhales, before kissing you.

You yelp, a tiny noise of exclamation before sinking into his kiss, thoroughly distracted by how good he feels. Without thinking, your arms rise to wrap around his neck and pull him closer. The stone behind you is cold; rough, like his hands on your body, so eager to have you.

“W-wait,” you gasp, turning your head.

Releasing a groan, Jimin’s fists clutch at your robes. “What is it?” he mumbles, pressing his lips to your neck.

Eyes fluttering, you let your head hit the wall. Jimin feels so good, you are drowning in him after being apart for so long. Something twists in your stomach at this, realizing how regularly you met up with him before.

“Jimin,” you exhale, panting from only his kiss. His hands fumble at your dress robes, needing you closer. “We can’t.”

“Oh, I disagree,” he laughs, gently caging your hips with his own. “The way you look tonight – shit, Y/N.” He says your name in a whine, a desperate groan of desire. “I’ve wanted you since you walked through the door.”

“I-I’m on a date,” you blurt out, silencing him.

Jimin slowly opens his eyes. “Oh,” he responds, careful.

Chest rising and falling, you stare at him through the silence. “I’m here with someone else, Jimin,” you mutter, not knowing where else to look. “I know that we fuck around, sometimes – but not here, okay? Not while my date is waiting for me out there.”

Jimin stiffens. “Right,” he responds, entirely unreadable. There is something dark, almost angry to his gaze. “Right, of course. We only fuck sometimes.”

When he says the last two words, they sound like a mockery. Frowning, you search his face for an answer. “I,” you pause. “I don’t know what you mean by that.”

After a brief pause, Jimin wrenches himself away. Shoving his hand through his hair, he looks out at the Hall. People are dancing now, whirling around the decorations in couples and partners.

“Sure,” Jimin states, oddly cold. This is when you realize that before, he was not cold. In the past few months, Park Jimin has not been cold to you at all. “Of course, you wouldn’t.” Jimin turns back to you. “Why are you here with him, anyways?”

For a moment, you can only stare. “I – what do you mean? Because Taehyung asked me, that’s why.”

Jimin’s eyes narrow, as he takes a step closer. “And why have you been avoiding me, then?”

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” you respond, automatic.

He snorts. “Don’t bullshit me, Y/N. It won’t work.”

Staring at him, you consider your words. “Fine,” you respond through gritted teeth. If you wanted to, you could reach out and kiss him, but you do not. “I haven’t wanted to hook up lately, that’s all.”

At this, Jimin’s nostrils flare. “Oh?” he responds, sounding strangled. “And why is that? Because of Taehyung?”

He looks up to scan the hall but you do not follow his gaze. “Maybe,” you grind out, so angry your blood boils. Every inch of you aches for him. “Why do you care, anyways?”

“I don’t care,” grunts Jimin, grabbing your waist. He yanks you forward, chests thudding together as a tiny moan escapes you. Jimin pushes a hand through your hair, dislodging bobby pins as he hovers over your ear. “I just,” he murmurs, softer. “Why him?”

“What?” you freeze, heart catching.

Jimin inhales, his breath shaky. “Why… him?”

Slowly, you turn your head to look at him. Jimin stares back, unabashed. “Who else?” you ask him, confused.

For a long moment, Jimin does not respond. Then, his grip tightens briefly on your waist before releasing. “If,” Jimin hesitates, glancing around. Never before, have you seen him look like this – uneven, uncertain. “If you have to ask me that, then you’re right. I don’t care.”

With that, he spins on his heel and stalks out of the hall.

You stare after him, finding it difficult to breathe and wondering what in the hell just happened. You did the right thing, you remind yourself. Lucas would have been livid, if he found out and you were growing too attached. Jimin means nothing to you in the long run.

And yet – if Jimin truly meant nothing to you, your heart would not constrict so tightly. Your legs would not shake as they do and you would not reach out to steady yourself on the wall.

You would not feel as though your entire world has crumbled, simply because Jimin said he does not care.

A/N: [ Master List ]

© kpopfanfictrash, 2019. Do not copy or repost without permission.