#u know his one beta design where he looks like u know who. i would be sooooo awful about it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rkived · 4 years

Text

year 22 (m) — jjk

‘‘I knew you’d be standing in my front porch light, and I knew you’d come back to me.’‘

Pairing: childhoodfriend!jk x f!reader

Genre/Tags: angst!!!, drama, a lil fluff, f2l, e2l-ish, pining, slow burn, smut

Rating: M +18

WC: 11.5k

Warnings: time jumps, underage drinking, jk being a douchebag for most of the fic, reader can’t catch a mf break, mention of character death ((no major one tho)). smut in the form of oral (f. receiving), fingering, nipple play, unprotected sex ((wrap it b4 u tap it y’all)), my being called pretty kink making a brief appearance soz

A/N: i listened to cardigan for the first time n had it on replay the whole time i wrote this so ig u should do it too ! this is my first time posting smut on here but who would i be if i didn’t throw in some good angst ? also tysm to @periminkle for being my unofficial beta reader n checking it up for me, she knows i’m constantly looking for her validation n i def wouldn’t post this if she didn’t love it ilu vira thx for being the best ever mwah !!!

You’re five, cowering behind his mother’s legs, sniffing as tears stream down your face. In front of you both stands Jungkook, there’s remorse written all over his face as his mother stares him down with hands on her hips and a look that just screams that this is only the beginning of his punishment.

‘’Apologize to Y/N right now Jungkook, or I’ll have your father have a word with you,’’ she threatens with a stern tone, making her son quickly shake his head no. ‘‘You need to learn how to share your toys.’’

You peek behind her lanky leg and find the slightly older kid looking at you with narrowed eyes, ‘‘I’m sorry, Y/N.’’ He apologizes with a bow, but he’s obviously displeased with the whole ordeal.

His mother sighs and Jungkook pouts at the look on her face. She urges you to come out from your not-so-secret hiding spot and to go back to playing with him, even though you seriously doubt that will do any good to what just happened.

Jungkook’s bedroom door is kept open as he sits back down on his city patterned carpet, you twiddle with your thumbs and stare at the Spiderman poster on his wall. There’s an awkward silence between you two until you feel a toy bump your crisscrossed legs.

It’s the shiny red car he had refused to lend you before, provoking an argument between you two which eventually made you run out of his room in tears as you ratted him out to his mom.

‘‘Wooow,’’ you whisper in awe, taking the car in your hands with so much care, treating it like it’s one of your newest dolls.

Jungkook huffs, crossing his arms as he looks at you with distaste and he’s forced to settle with other boring toys as you giggle to yourself, making the car follow the carpet’s tracks. He learns then to never trust his mother again. If she ever says she’ll bring a new friend for him to play with again, he’ll refuse wholeheartedly.

He doesn’t like sharing his toys, and it’ll probably take him a long time to learn how to.

You’re nine as you hand Jungkook one of the multiple Valentine’s Day cards you carefully crafted the night before with your mother, adding all kinds of pretty stickers and shiny glitter to make each one of them unique. His is different from the rest, though.

You added hearts to the dots in the I’s, there’s a hint of your favorite body splash enveloping the pink construction paper and it fills Jungkook’s nostrils with so much force that he feels he could gag at the smell.

‘‘What do you think?’’ You ask the fourth-grader with a big smile on your face, cheeks tinted with a light shade of red as you see him reading the little message you wrote inside the card.

Jungkook lets out a mocking chuckle, ‘‘Are you serious? You like me?’’ He asks you, but it doesn’t look like he’s looking for answers. Your smile slowly fades away, looking at him with glossy eyes, ‘‘I don’t like you, you’re just a dumb little girl.’’

His card was the one you had invested the most time in and yet it only took him a second to crumple it with his hand, and another five for him to toss it into the trash can near you before he goes back to his group of friends in the school’s playground.

You learn how to hold your tears in then, thinking it’s a great accomplishment and that maybe now he’ll stop calling you a crybaby.

His friends receive him with high-fives and he smiles with gratefulness because they just saw how much of a badass he can be. Once recess is over and everyone’s going back to their classrooms, Jungkook nears the garbage bin where he had thrown the Valentine's card in, but finds it’s now dirty with yogurt someone tossed inside.

He grimaces at the sight and sighs, there’s no way he can save it now.

You’re twelve and you’re the only girl in the treehouse who hasn’t gone through puberty yet. It wasn’t something that bothered you until just recently, when it became pretty evident why none of the boys would even give you a onceover compared to the other girls.

“I don’t know if I want to play,” you mumble after Kim Jihyo suggests playing spin the bottle. You’re the only one who opposes the idea, though you could count Jungkook in given as he just sat there without saying a word.

Park Yerim rolls her eyes, “You’re so boring, Y/N!” The comment makes the rest giggle as you pout at being the designated party pooper.

It’s all fun and games of truth and dares to whoever the bottle lands on and you’ve been lucky enough to avoid the tip of the plastic Coca-Cola bottle to point at you, until it lands on Jungkook who has done a few funny dares so far.

“Alright, Jungkook, let’s make things even more fun!” Jihyo announces since she’s been the one who has assigned most of the embarrassing challenges and questions, “I dare you to kiss one of the girls here for ten seconds.”

The dare makes the boys cheer with excitement and the girls gasp with anticipation, hoping one of them is the lucky chosen one. Your lips part slightly as you stare at him sitting across from you, he’s clearly not comfortable with the dare, but knowing him, he won’t express his current discomfort.

His eyes land on you as you stare back at him with concern, hoping that he’ll speak up to avoid himself the embarrassment. Has he even kissed someone before? If this is his first kiss, you’ll witness it alongside everyone else and you can only imagine how terrifying that must be. Even though Jungkook’s always been a brave kid, you can always tell when he feels under pressure.

“Uhm, I’ll uh—“ Jungkook keeps staring at you and you feel your heart start to beat like you just ran the usual ten laps around the gym in P.E class. Are you about to have your first kiss? With him?

You nod your head absentmindedly, a sign to let him know it’s okay for him to pick you from all the other developed girls who probably have more experience kissing than you do, but it’s okay because you’ve always been a quick learner.

“Yeji,” Jungkook says after what feels like forever, though it’s only been a mere few seconds, “I’ll kiss Yeji.” He adds, removing his eyes from yours and settling them on the girl with the high ponytail and pink colored nails.

You bite your bottom lip hard, breaking the dry skin as you feel yourself taste blood. It doesn’t matter because no one’s paying attention to you and instead they’re focused on Jungkook’s neverending kiss with Yeji.

When you get home that night, you look at yourself in the mirror and frown at your lack of everything. Is this the reason as to why he hadn’t picked you?

You’re fourteen and Kim Taehyung just sent you a message through MSN in which he confesses to have feelings for you. Your eyes widen, rereading the message several times, rubbing at your eyes just to make sure you’re seeing things correctly.

You run off across the street to Jungkook’s house, ringing the doorbell quickly for someone to open up. You’re greeted by him looking at you with an annoyed expression, he had to pause his GTA game to come and open the door.

“What do you want?” Jungkook asks harshly, crossing his arms as he stares into somewhere that’s not your face. He’s anxiously waiting for you to spit out whatever it is you’re there to say.

You calm yourself down by breathing in deep and out, blowing the air right at him, “Does Taehyung like me?” You ask him, making Jungkook’s eyes widen in surprise and his brows to raise.

His reaction tells you that you might’ve just discovered a secret you weren’t supposed to and it only makes your heart beat even faster because if it’s true, then this is a pleasant surprise. Kim Taehyung is one of the hottest boys in the tenth grade and he happens to be one of Jungkook’s closest friends. You think he must know something since you see them hanging out at lunch.

“Uh—I don’t know, Y/N.” Jungkook mumbles, rubbing at the back of his neck, finally looking at you and he feels a gut wrenching punch in his stomach at the sight. “Taehyung isn’t a really good guy, you shouldn’t—“

“What are you saying?” You interrupt him with a question, confused as to why Jungkook was painting a negative picture of his friend. “He was really sweet with what he said, he thinks my eyes are pretty when they sparkle — I didn’t even know they did that!”

Jungkook grimaces and sighs, there’s really not much he can do here. You’ve always been so stubborn, so relentless. No matter how many times life tries to tell you something’s not meant for you, you challenge each and every one of it’s obstacles until you take what’s yours.

“Okay, then what are you gonna do? Date him? You haven’t even had your first kiss yet.” Jungkook reminds you with a mocking tone and you furrow your brows together because, how does he know that?

You stammer, “I-I have! I had it at camp last summer, actually!” That’s a lie, but he wasn’t there so he can’t prove the veracity of your statement. “And what do you care? So what if I want to date him?” You add with anger, not understanding why couldn’t he just support you in search of true love.

The thought of dating Kim Taehyung had never crossed your mind, thinking he was way too out of your league for him to ever notice you. But that confession sitting in your MSN chat now served as a nice feeling of knowing you aren’t as invisible as you think you are.

Jungkook scoffs, “Taehyung would never date you, okay? He’s older than you, he’s cool, he goes to parties and has kissed almost every girl in his grade, do you think he’d really like someone as boring as you?” He doesn’t mean to be so harsh, but you’re just so difficult and impossible to get through.

Jungkook’s used to the trembling bottom lip and the teary eyes that you give him everytime he says something that definitely strikes a nerve within you, but he’s always impressed on how you always refrain from crying in front of him. Last time you did that you were both kids and he probably took the last lollipop from your batch of collected halloween candy.

“Screw you, Jungkook,” you say through gritted teeth, and if looks could kill, he’d be dead already.

He looks at you quickly stomp your way back to your house, only heading back inside once you slam your front door shut. Jungkook enters his room to find two new messages in his MSN.

$$ kIm tAaEhyYyuNG $$: it worked!

$$ kIm tAeEhyYyunGG $$: she fell for it xDxD where did u even come up with the sparkly eyes thing?? that’s gold bro rofl

Jungkook sighs, ignoring the messages and shutting his computer down.

You’re sixteen and you’ve been invited to your first party. Granted, it was Jungkook’s, but he knew that if he didn’t ask you to come you’d probably tell on him with his mom. No matter what age he was, he’d always fear his mother’s scolding.

“Drink this!” Park Jimin says with his beautiful smile and you’re starting to realize why they gave him that very same superlative on the school’s yearbook. You take the red solo cup without any second thought, placing the rim straight to your lips and choke once you feel the liquid burn your throat.

“Ugh—What’s this?” You ask, cleaning the droplets of liquid around the corners of your mouth.

He chuckles, “Fruit punch!” The liquid is indeed red like the familiar drink you’re used to, but there’s definitely something else mixed inside. “Oh, and vodka,” he adds with wiggly eyebrows as he shows off the small flask he was hiding in his sweatshirt’s front pocket.

You gasp and hand him the cup back, “No, I don’t drink alcohol, sorry.” Jimin rolls his eyes and it reminds you of the many times you’ve received this same reaction from your classmates before. Always a party pooper. He’s about to take the plastic red cup from you until you quickly drink the spiked punch in one go.

The boy howls in excitement, “Woo, go Y/N! Another one coming right up.”

Jungkook knows he should be making sure everything’s alright downstairs. If his mother notices there’s at least one misplaced object, she’ll know right away something went down in her house while her husband and her were away for the weekend on an emergency trip to their hometown. Leaving him unsupervised only because they both believed their son was old enough to tend for himself.

But Jung Eunha had dragged him into his room with the excuse of wanting to see what it looked like, but the mini tour had turned into them kissing on his bed and Jungkook is thankful he changed his Spiderman sheets in exchange for some boring plain grey ones. Eunha smells like fresh mint and Jungkook is way into his head to focus on properly kissing her.

It’s not until his bedroom door is abruptly open, slamming against the wall that Jungkook literally jumps to his feet, making Eunha gasp as they both look at the person who has interrupted their awkward makeout session.

“Guk-ah, what are you doin’?” You curiously wonder, a hiccup following right after which makes you giggle. Jungkook’s chest rises and falls with quickness as he notices you look different from the last time he saw you twenty minutes ago when you were talking to Jimin. “Guk-ah, were you—you kissin’ Eunha?” You ask once more after not receiving an answer to your previous question.

“Y/N, are you okay?” He asks in concern, coming closer to analyze your weird state. You stretch your arm out to avoid him from nearing you, making him falter in his place as he studies your expression.

You hum, “Guk-ah, you busy. Sorry,” you apologize in a shy tone, ready to head back down and have more of that fruity alcohol punch you now found tasty, but you stumble and only avoid yourself from falling by holding onto Jungkook's door frame, he’s already reaching out by then.

“Are you fucking serious, Y/N? Get out!” Eunha complains with irritation, getting up from the bed and ready to kick you out of his room, but his free arm stops her from getting near you. “Whu—?”

“Eunha, go back down. I’ll deal with her myself.” Jungkook says as calmly as he can, thinking three’s a crowd and dealing with you wasn’t an easy thing in of itself. She’s about to argue, but he interrupts her again, “Go down, now.”

She rolls her eyes and bumps her shoulder against yours harshly once she steps out of his room, “Whatever, that kiss was shitty anyway.”

He pretends he didn’t hear that and takes you in his arms instead, dragging you to lay on his bed as you cuddle into his favorite pillow and hug it close to your body. How much did you drink? Why did you even do it in the first place? Jungkook knows you’ve never tried alcohol before, which means he’ll be in big trouble if you show up back to your house like this.

When you open your eyes hours later, your head hurts and it feels lightweight when you move it side to side. The room you’re in is familiar, that spiderman poster is still hung on the wall, but there are no more toys laying around the floor; they’ve probably been stored somewhere in his garage or sent off to a donation center under his mother’s demand.

The pillow that you’re hugging smells just like him and any other day you’d hold on to it tighter and inhale his scent like your life depended on it, but you abruptly sit on the bed as you’re reminded of how you got here. The action is not appreciated by your dizzy head, but you look around the room to notice how dark it is and there’s no more music playing downstairs.

You quickly jump to the ground, only to hear a “Fuck, ouch!” from below, stepping on Jungkook’s leg unintentionally. It makes you gasp, looking down to notice the older friend laying on the cold floor, having gotten rid of that childhood carpet of his. His head’s laying on a makeshift pillow made out of a towel and he’s trying hard not to shiver.

“I’m sorry, sorry, sorry!” You quickly apologize, stepping away from his figure as he soothes the shin of his leg you stepped on. “Jungkook, what happened?”

He sighs, “Someone decided to drink like five cups of spiked punch knowing damn well it was their first time drinking alcohol, stepped into my room like a crazy person, and then crashed on my bed like they—What’s with the face?”

“Bathroom.”

Jungkook grimaces while he holds your hair back, you’re throwing away all the liquid you had taken with a few additional snacks you had munched on earlier, “Are you done?” He asks in a tired mumble and you shake your head no.

He feels guilty that you’re in this position. He didn’t even want to kiss Eunha, but she was one of the most popular girls in his grade and he knew that if he turned her down she would most likely put a bad word in with the rest of the girls and the guys would make fun of him for being such a wuss.

That would’ve been better, because after laying you down on his bed he had to go down and tell everyone that the party was over, putting an excuse that the neighbors had warned him and threatened to call the cops. They all cleared pretty quickly, but he knew he was going to be the butt of the jokes come Monday. He even had to call your parents to let them know you had gone home to a friend’s house for a sleepover, which he knew wasn’t totally believable, but it had somehow gotten them convinced that their daughter was alright because they trusted Jungkook to never hurt you ever.

Once you feel like you’ve puked your stomach out, Jungkook hands you a pill accompanied with a glass of water and hands you clothes of his that might be more comfortable to sleep in.

“Good night, Jungkook,” you whisper once you’re laying back on his bed, still hugging the pillow he preferred to sleep with. He makes a sacrifice to make it up to you.

His back is going to hurt by the time the sun comes out in a few hours, but it’s okay if it means you’ll sleep comfortably after the events of tonight. “Good night, Y/N.”

He’s unable to sleep, but finds entertainment in your hanging hand beside his bed. The skin on your palm looks soft and there’s this strange urge inside of him that makes him want to grab your hand in his, but he refrains.

To calm the current chaos in his head, Jungkook finds peace in the light snores coming from his bed.

You’re just about to turn eighteen and your date to the prom is Jeong Jaehyun, who had only asked you out a day before the event because the girl he had initially wanted to take had been asked and he didn’t have a plan B.

Jaehyun is okay, at least he managed to get you a corsage that matched the color of your dress. He even smiles in the pictures your parents take of you both as you awkwardly try to look comfortable with his arms around you even though by then you had only exchanged a few sentences.

The prom’s theme is Summer Nights and you think it’s fitting considering this is the very last event before the graduation ceremony, meaning that you’d most likely never see most of these people ever again. You had purposely applied to a college that was outside of your hometown for that same reason. You’re ready to live the life you’ve always wanted to live, without anyone judging or knowing you.

Your date spends most of the night talking with his group of friends as you’re left alone on your table, looking at your well manicured nails. You knew you weren’t going to get the same prom experience the high school kids on T.V enjoyed, but you at least hoped it would’ve been a little more fun than this.

A tap on your shoulder makes you turn around to see Jungkook trying to loosen the tight tie around his neck. He looks incredibly handsome and you suppose his mother helped him pick the suit out, Jungkook rarely ever wore fitted clothing, so this is one of those once in a lifetime moments..

“Hey you,” you say and he gives you half a smile, wondering why you’re sitting by yourself at an empty table when everyone else was either mingling or dancing. “Where’s your date?” You ask with curiosity, you’re surprised that Jinsoul isn’t trailing alongside him given how she had behaved for the past week ever since he asked her to come with him.

“Retouching her face or something,” he answers casually, “what are you doing sitting here? Where’s Jaehyun?” Jungkook asks.

You shrug your shoulders, “Don’t know, probably talking with the guys of the basketball team. He’s been gone for a while.” Not like you care, anyway. If your conversation with him inside his car on the way to the venue had been any indication of what it would’ve been like for the rest of the night, you’re glad he's not here trying to make any more small talk with you.

Jungkook huffs, thinking he’ll kick his ass if he sees him. He had asked him to invite you so you wouldn’t come alone, and yet here you are, sitting all by yourself while the douchebag’s making a social life somewhere in the crowd. He calms down once he notices how unbothered you are by it, though. You’re a big girl now, you’ve been through too much to be affected by something as simple as this.

“Is there something you wan—“

“Dance!” You interrupt with excitement and Jungkook chuckles.

“I was gonna ask if you wanted something to drink, but—alright, let’s dance.” Jungkook can’t dance for shit, but you took lessons when you were younger and he can still remember how you’d always show him the routines you learned in class. He’d always boo you, but in reality you were pretty good. He wonders why you stopped, he doesn’t recall you ever telling him.

It’s just his luck that once you both step into the dancefloor, the hired DJ stops the up-tempo song playing before and switches to a much slower romantic one, “Alright everyone, I want all the couples on the dancefloor for this one.”

You step away from him with nervousness, it’s couples only after all. But Jungkook holds onto your lower back firmly, pulling you closer into his space. Your eyebrows raise as your lips part, “Uh, s-should we, uh—?”

“It’s just a song, Y/N. You wanted to dance, then we’ll dance.” He tells you with such confidence it makes you feel like this is totally normal and something all friends do. All the known High School couples are dancing together, heads tenderly placed over chests and chins resting lovingly above them. You wait for Jungkook to take the lead because you have no clue of what you should be doing, you might’ve taken dance lessons years ago but you’ve never slowed danced in your life.

Jungkook places his hand on your hip, the touch makes goosebumps crawl in your arms. He pretends he doesn’t notice it as he takes your right hand in his. You stare at the way he delicately holds it like it’s his mother’s fine china. “Place your other hand on my shoulder,” he instructs and you do as asked, your palm coming to rest on the strong muscle.

He’s only slowed danced once before at a family member’s wedding where his mother taught him how to, with her as the teacher. Back then he thought it was incredibly ridiculous, but now he’s sort of glad that happened because he’s the teacher now and you’re now looking at him with your big eyes as you sway alongside him.

You clear your throat, “This isn’t that hard.” Jungkook nods as he stares down at you, noticing how uneasy you are given that you’re looking at everything and not entirely immersed in the moment.

“You look beautiful tonight.” He says out of nowhere, making you look at him like a deer stuck in headlights, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He had never called you that before.

An awkward laugh escapes your lips, looking away from his intense gaze as you try not to take his words too literally, “Ha ha, that was a good one.” To you there’s no other explanation than this being one of his mean pranks on you.

But Jungkook doesn’t falter both his words and gaze, “I’m not laughing.” There’s seriousness in his voice and you have to look back at him again just to make sure he really isn’t, “You look beautiful, just take the compliment.” You nod and there’s silence between you two after that. You’re digesting the romantic lyrics that the singer is talking about and hope that the song ends soon, because you’ve never been this close to him and it’s starting to feel too crowded.

You clear your throat, “So…”

“So…,” he repeats.

“What are you doing for summer?” You ask him in an attempt to break the tension and wanting to take advantage of the little intimate moment since Jungkook rarely ever lets you pry into his private life.

“I think I’ll train before heading off,” he answers. It was more than obvious he was going to earn that sports scholarship he had been aiming for, he was one of the best athletes on the school; though you considered him to be the number one between them all. “I’m kinda scared, not gonna lie.”

You look at him with surprise, tilting your head to the side, “You’re scared?” You ask in disbelief because as long as you’ve known him, he’s never been scared of anything. This is the same kid who instilled your fear of monsters in a closet after watching Monster’s Inc. together, also the same kid who helped you get over it after he realized you had actually taken it seriously.

He chuckles lightly, “Yeah, I’m just scared about starting over.” It’s interesting how his biggest fear is the one you’re looking forward to the most, but you suppose it’s fitting for someone who has never had to worry about what people think of him. In this town, Jungkook has swam freely without any concerns. Out there, he’s just another fish in the big and scary ocean. “Aren’t you?” He questions, hoping that you’re able to relate to what he’s feeling.

“Honestly, I—“

You’re interrupted by Jaehyun clearing his voice in front of you two, making you both turn your heads towards his direction. You quickly separate from Jungkook and he feels his body lose the warmness you were providing.

“If you wanted to dance, you could’ve just asked. I’m your date after all.” He says smugly and you chuckle awkwardly, nodding because he’s right.

Jungkook wants to punch his stupid face, how dare he interrupt you both when he had been ignoring you the whole night? Why does he suddenly want to dance with you when he’s probably still upset at him for asking Jinsoul to the prom before he could?

“Your date’s looking for you, buddy. She doesn’t look too happy.” Jaehyun adds with a smirk as he takes your hand in his and drags you away from Jungkook towards another place on the dancefloor.

He’s left to stare at the way he holds your hand, and he only hopes he’s doing it ever so carefully.

You’re twenty when Jungkook sees you for the first time since you both left for college two and half a years ago. He’s rendered speechless when he spots you in the crowd, there’s a manly hand around your waist as you giggle into the stranger’s mouth before placing a kiss to his lips.

There’s only so much social media can provide him, pictures and stories aren’t enough for Jungkook to keep up with you. He thinks you’ve changed, not only appearance wise but you seem way more outgoing, carefree, and happy. Did he miss the boyfriend announcement picture? He’s sure he didn’t, he checks your profile almost every day and he’s never even seen him in any of your stories.

A gasp escapes your lips once you spot him, completely forgetting about the possibility of bumping into him given that both your schools were playing against each other that night. You tell Namjoon you’ll be right back and he nods, going back to a conversation with the group of college friends you had made.

You surprise him by jumping into him, arms around his shoulders as you hug him from behind. You let out a shrill of excitement and he blushes as his friends chuckle at the unexpected approach from this unfamiliar girl.

‘‘Jungkook! You didn’t tell me you’d be here,’’ you say once he turns around to face you and he’s able to see you better upfront. You look beautiful and he thinks the Instagram pictures are not doing you enough justice. You’re glowing, and it has nothing to do with the highlighter you applied on your face and collarbone area.

The both of you aren’t able to properly talk until you suggest moving to a different area, Jungkook apologizing to his friends as he explained he needed to catch up with an old friend. They don’t complain and instead shoot him teasing looks and small pervy comments that go by unnoticed to you.

Jungkook listens with intent to your ramble about what you’ve been up to. From your courses, to your roommates, the parties you’ve attended, and even the fact that you handle your alcohol better now. He’s happy that you seem so too, but it irks him that you hadn’t been capable of telling him that you had a boyfriend now. Is there a reason as to why you omitted that important piece of information?

‘‘And what about you? How’s college?’’ You ask with curiosity.

He blinks a few times, realizing you had stopped talking about yourself and was now wondering about him instead. ‘‘It’s fine,’’ he answers with a tight lipped smile, the lack of detail compared to you was astonishing, but even though you were still hungry for more you decided not to pry any further.

There’s fear in revealing that he’s been having a hard time catching up with the rest of his peers. College was indeed fine, but it could be better. He’s settled with the idea that this is as good at it’ll get, some things just aren’t like you expect them to be. At least you’re happy, and that fact brings him comfort.

‘‘Was that your, uhm─boyfriend?’’ He finally asks after a while, both about to head back to your respective group of friends.

The question takes you by surprise, looking at him with raised eyebrows and mouth agape. ‘‘Who? Namjoon?’’ He nods, though he doesn’t know anything about the guy he had first seen you with. You let out a wholehearted laugh, ‘‘Hell no, too many commitment issues with that one,’’ you answer and Jungkook’s forehead creases with confusion.

Why were you kissing him then?

‘‘We’re friends with benefits,’’ you inform him as if you had read his mind. ‘‘He’s a nice guy, though. Also, super smart, he’s helped me with a few of my─’’

‘‘You’re not a virgin anymore?’’ He abruptly asks, disbelief in his tone as he internally screams to himself for thinking out loud. Jungkook expects you to berate him about such an imprudent question, but is surprised when he sees you giggling.

‘‘Duh, silly. I think I lost it freshman year?’’ The carelessness in your voice makes him look at you like you’ve gone crazy. Why are you so lax about this? Why are you telling him about losing your virginity without a care in the world? ‘‘Anyway, are you going to be home for the─’’

Jungkook interrupts you once again, ‘‘Was it with your boyfriend at the time?’’ He asks in genuine curiosity and you sigh, rolling your eyes slightly at him.

‘‘No, it was some random dude at this party I went to. Could you please─’’

‘‘Y/N, are you insane? Why would you give up your virginity to some fucking stranger like it’s nothing?’’ Jungkook’s voice raises as he scolds you about being so negligent about yourself, ‘‘You can’t do shit like that!’’ He fumed, making you let out a breathless chuckle.

‘‘Could you stop treating me like a fucking child for once in your life? I’m perfectly fine, Jungkook. I’ve been doing pretty well for myself without you here, actually. I don’t know why you think you have a say on what I do, is it the entitlement you have of me that you still carry around because we grew up together? Because if that’s it then you can drop it, I let go of my little girl who wanted a friend and was treated like pure shit in return complex a long time ago.’’

He knows you’re right, but he thinks he’ll always have this odd sense of protection over the five year old girl who cried to his mom about not lending her his favorite toy. He’ll always want to apologize to the eight year old girl who declared her love for him with a Valentine’s Day card while he ended up breaking her heart in exchange. He’ll always wish to look for help within the twelve year old girl who witnessed him give out his first kiss to another girl who he didn’t even like. He’ll always feel guilty towards the sixteen year old girl who had gotten tipsy on a spiked fruit punch and crashed on his bed. He’ll always hate himself for not asking the seventeen going on eighteen year old girl to prom when he knew he could’ve, but chose not to in fear of ruining your friendship.

You only wanted someone to be there for you growing up and Jungkook had never been the brave boy you thought he was, always running from his fears in hopes he’d have a wide advantage margin from them. Yet here they are, standing right in front of him in the form of a twenty year old you, and they’re there to let him know that you’ve never needed him, yet he’s always needed you.

He can’t even apologize, he only looks at you with wide eyes as he fidgets in his place. Either you’re both too old now to understand each other or you just realized that you’ve outgrown Jungkook.

Your mouth set in a hard line as you crossed your arms, the night’s breeze feeling colder than usual. ‘‘I miss you Jungkook, but I can’t keep playing this cat and mouse game with you any longer.’’

You leave him behind to go back to Namjoon’s arms, seeking refuge in his sweet embrace as you try your hardest to put on practice what you learned all those years ago when Jungkook broke your heart for the first time, you should be used to it by now.

You’re twenty-one when you’re back in your hometown to attend the funeral of the old lady down the street, the one that always scolded you and Jungkook growing up.

You had been scared of her as a child, but always following along your friend’s footsteps when he proposed playing around her garden. It tugs at your heartstrings even if you hadn’t known the woman well. Her death was imminent seeing as she’d been ill for quite some time.

A taller figure stands next to you as you both stand way in the back of the ceremony. He looks tired and you figure that it’s because of the fact he arrived late into the night, you heard his car’s engine from your bedroom window. Dressing in all black, you notice he bought a new suit. You’re sure that the one he wore for prom no longer fits considering he’s bigger now.

You haven’t talked to each other since last year when you both left off on a sour note. The hurt you felt was no longer present, though. You chewed on your bottom lip as you thought of a way you could talk to him again without making things awkward, but you let out a small gasp once he placed his arm around your shoulders, giving it a small squeeze as he sighed and kept his focus on the service.

Watching the casket be lowered into the ground felt weird. She was a human being just like you, but her existence was a reminder of your childhood. Would it be okay to say that her death meant a part of you leaving with her too?

Once it hits you, it’s Jungkook who consoles you by hugging you tight. Your eyes are too blurry with tears for you to realize this is one of those rare moments where he’s holding you close without hesitation. He lets you ruin his tuxedo’s jacket with your mascara covered tears as he brushes your hair as a sign of comfort.

You know things are back in order when he proposes the idea to go back to the old lady’s porch, for old times sake. ‘‘Will we ever let her rest?’’ You ask him with a small laugh as Jungkook sits on the doorsteps of the old lady’s empty home, opening the bag of candy worms he bought at the grocery store.

He shrugs, ‘‘She loved us, always told my mom how much she missed us running around the street.’’ The revelation makes you smile, hoping it was true. He pats the empty space next to him, indicating for you to fill it up with your presence. Once you do, you feel the familiar warmth of his proximity.

Jungkook seems different and you only hope he’s changed for the best.

‘‘When are you going back?’’ You ask him with curiosity, hoping that he’ll be in town for a few more days so you can catch up with him on a better note this time around.

He munches on one of the snacks, ‘‘Tomorrow morning, I have training camp and can’t miss it.’’ His answer makes you sigh with disappointment, but you nod nonetheless. ‘‘What about you?’’ He asks in return, and you inform him that you’ll stay for a few more days to spend time with your family. There’s silence after that and Jungkook can only offer you the gummy worms in the bag, you take one with a small thanks.

‘‘College fucking sucks,’’ he says out of nowhere and it makes you look at him in bewilderement, ‘‘I hate it there, I wanna drop out so bad. But I’m a year away from graduating so it’s too late now.’’ You see his shoulders visibly relax, like a weight had been lifted off them. ‘‘Plus my mom would kill me if I do so,’’ he adds with a chuckle.

Last time you asked everything was fine. Had things changed or had they always been this way and he was just now being honest with you?

You rest your head on his shoulder and focus all of your undivided attention on him as he keeps rambling about what his life has been ever since he left this town. He’s had bad games, bad grades, and bad girls. But he’s also had incredible games, good grades, and a couple great hookups, and yet he still feels empty, it’s not enough.

‘‘I miss you,’’ he mumbles as he faces you, ‘‘I’m sorry for being such a shitty friend, you deserved better.’’ His apology is genuine and you can feel it in the way his voice trembles, sincerity has always scared him after all.

Jungkook’s never known when the time is right, and he misjudges the look on your face. When he leans down to press his lips against yours, he’s blinded for a mere moment into believing that you wanted to kiss him just as much as he had been waiting.

You abruptly separate from him with wide eyes and parted lips, ‘‘Jungkook, I’m─I’m dating Namjoon now.’’ He can physically feel his heart shatter, the revelation coming out like an old newspaper headline he should’ve read a long time ago.

He lets out a breathless chuckle, ‘‘He got over the commitment issues?’’ The rhetorical question is bitter.

You scoff, ‘‘And what about it? I preferred to wait than to rush into getting my heart broken.’’ Plus it’s not like you were expecting Namjoon to grow feelings for you, the whole no strings attached arrangement was named that way for a reason.

Jungkook looks at you with narrowed eyes and he shakes his head sightly. Old habits never die down, still so stubborn and challenging as ever.

He’s startled as you stand abruptly, fuming as you look at him, ‘‘I don’t even know why you care! Did you forget that you threw my Valentine’s Day card into the trash? Or that you kissed Yeji in front of my face? Or that you let Taehyung date me as prank between your friends? Or that you were making out with Eunha while Jimin kept giving me alcohol? Or that you asked Jaehyun to take me to the stupid prom even though I was perfectly fine going without him or anyone for that matter?’’

‘‘We were just kids!’’ Jungkook argues back at you.

‘‘It still fucking hurt,’’ you counter, ‘‘still hurts, actually. You think that by giving me a measly apology and kissing it better I’ll suddenly forget about all of it?’’ Jungkook knows it won’t ever make up for all those years, but he had at least hoped you’d be willing to give him a chance.

He wishes he could say something else. Explain that he had just tried to protect you in his own shitty way from everyone else or himself maybe, he doesn’t know anymore. He wants to speak up again, but there’s disappointment written all over your face, you’re not angry at him...just saddened.

‘‘Hope you have fun at your training camp.’’

Jungkook watches as you leave him sitting by himself on the old lady’s doorstep. A hand runs through his hair as he feels his eyes water, and he can almost hear a whisper in the wind that asks him why he didn’t stop you when he could’ve.

Jungkook didn’t think that his family coming together with yours for Christmas dinner would’ve been a great idea. You’re cold to him at first and it’s fitting for the winter weather, but as always it only takes for him to sit next to you for things to warm up again.

It’s with the excuse that you’ll run over to your house to grab a new bottle of wine from the kitchen counter that Jungkook trails behind you, both slightly tipsy on the different alcohols your families had offered each other.

Years have passed since he last stepped foot inside your home, you used to visit him more often than he did anyway. It still smells and looks the same; the only difference is that there’s new pictures of you hung up on the walls, updated accordingly to the changes you’ve made ever since you left off for college.

You’re sporting a big smile in all of them, which in exchange makes him copy the action as well. His lack of presence in your life has done you better than compared to when he was around, and if that’s the case, then at least he did something right.

There hasn’t been much said since the beginning of the night, just a simple hey out of courtesy. There’s so much he wants to say, but with no clue where to begin. Another apology is due, though he thinks it’s a little too late for that. He also wants to ask about what you’ve been up to since he last saw you, are you still dating the Namjoon guy you had told him about after he kissed you? If he’s still there, Jungkook rather keep quiet and not wonder out loud to you, he’s sure that it’ll hurt if it’s true.

Growing up Jungkook always mistook your bravery with stubbornness and your courage with relentlessness. You’ve always been challenging, but only because you wanted him to do so too. It’s moments like this that prove him that you’ve always been the stronger between the two.

‘‘So, we’re just gonna pretend like nothing’s wrong between us?’’ You ask, speaking directly to him for the first time that night. It makes him look at you like a deer stuck in headlights, surprised by the sudden question and out of all the years of knowing each other, he feels small under your gaze for once. ‘‘How much time is it going to pass until you want to finally talk things like adults?’’

Jungkook gulps the lump in his throat, his brain quickly thinking of the right thing to say, ‘‘I just wanted to protect you from─’’

‘‘From what? From you? Everytime you’ve done that I end up getting hurt in the end. I’m left to pick the pieces up by myself,’’ you interject with anger in your voice. ‘‘It fucking pisses me off that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you kissing me, I haven’t stopped thinking about you and─’’ A sigh, you close your eyes to center yourself again as Jungkook waits for the final blow, ‘‘and you look like none of this has ever bothered you in the slightest because, you don’t really care about me do you?’’

‘‘I do care about you.’’ He’s sure about it, even though he’s been extremely bad at showing it.

Even though your eyes are threatening to spill tears, you still muster up the last bit of what’s left of your courage to step closer to him until you’re a few inches away. ‘‘Prove it, then. Show me that you care.’’

His brain is sent into quick overdrive due to your close proximity. There’s a slight hesitation because he only hopes that what he’s about to do is what you’re demanding him to prove. He doesn’t care if you’re still dating the Namjoon guy because he’s settled with the idea that it’s okay if you don’t correspond, it’s not like he did the same to you when you were both younger.

Once his lips press against yours, there’s no turning back. He’s waiting for you to push him back and let him know that your heart’s still taken, but you kiss him with such fervor that he knows in that moment that you’re right, it’s better to wait than to rush right in.

It’s no fairytale kiss, though. There’s desperation in the way you chase his lips, as if you were to slow down he’d find a way to escape from you. You grip the cotton material of his crewneck into your small fists, holding on to the fabric like your life depended on it. The small kiss you had both shared last year was nothing compared to this, and Jungkook’s taken aback by your neediness.

He doesn’t know how you manage to drag him to your childhood bedroom without missing a beat, only separating once you both realize you need to catch your breaths, and even then Jungkook can’t have a minute to take just happened in because your lips attach to his neck to get more of a taste. His fingers curled around your arm, sighing at the way your kisses felt like electricity on his skin.

‘‘Y/N,’’ he calls your name out in a breathy tone, but you’re too immersed in your little bubble to even realize it.

Jungkook groans when you bite into the skin of his neck, then blowing over the red mark as you kissed it better. It’s going to be bruise and he doesn’t like when that happens, but he’s not bothered at all if it comes from you. He forcibly grabs your chin so you can face him, looking at him with big eyes, a small pout, and with your chin messed with drool.

It’s then that Jungkook kisses you hungrily, making you feel like you’re in a dream-like state, though you could partially blame the Christmas eggnog for that. The way he bites at your lips and how your tongues clash together is an extreme juxtaposition as to how you could describe this moment. It’s as if you’re floating on air, clouds surrounding you in a heavenly embrace, angels singing in the background every time his hands touch, grab, hold and caress every part of your body. And yet, even with such a difference, it’s perfect because it’s Jungkook. You’ve been waiting for this too long, which is why your hands creep beneath his crewneck, touching his tonified abdomen tentatively and enjoying the way goosebumps arise on his skin at the sensation of your fingers trailing patterns wherever they caress.

It’s only fair that he pays attention to yours as well. Jungkook’s lips trail from your mouth onto your jawline, planting wet kisses on each space until he begins sucking on the skin of your neck, making you moan in the process. He chooses then that his new favorite sound is the way you voice out the pleasure he gives you. ‘‘Hurry up,’’ you say, ridding the bottom of the crewneck higher over his stomach, making him shiver at the sudden change of temperature.

Jungkook chuckles before completely getting rid of the material, ‘‘Calm down,’’ he sighs as he gives you a sweet smile, ‘‘You know our moms could talk forever.’’

You ogle his chest, admiring the way his training camps have obviously done wonders to his body. ‘‘It’s not them I’m talking about,’’ you correct him with a teasing smile that only makes his grin grow wider, chuckling at your impatience. Jungkook lets out a small gasp of surprise when your hands grasp at his shoulder blades, turning him around so you can back him until the back of his knees hit the edge of your bed. It’s funny how he lets himself be bossed around by someone who’s way smaller compared to his frame.

Jungkook finds leverage on his elbows splayed against the mattress, your knees resting on each side of his hips as you leaned into him and kissing him just as widely as you had done before. Jungkook could fill just how quick things were escalating, especially the way his crotch area was beginning to become a problem he couldn’t possibly control at the moment, not with your own being directly on top of it. In any other situation he would’ve apologized with an awkward laugh, but his breath hitches once your hips start grinding over him.

His hands make their way on the inside of your knitted sweater, provoking goosebumps on the exposed skin. You let out a shaky laugh, halting your movements so you can quickly get rid of the fabric as Jungkook’s eyebrows lift in surprise at your haste and then at the sight of your bra covered breasts. His hands are still steadily placed on each side of your waist, only brought up because your own had redirected them over your breasts, hoping he gets the message on what you want him to do now.

Jungkook hesitantly squeezed one of the round globes, provoking a small moan to come from out of your lips. He wishes to hold you as close as he possibly can because the idea of ever being away from you again has been his main fear as of lately. But he refrains, you look so delicate and he feels like you could easily break. He stares at your body lovingly and your cheeks heat up at the way his eyes ogle your chest like a kid in a candy story. You give his arm a light slap and he chuckles, leaning over you to place a passionate kiss on your lips.

“You’re beautiful,” he says frankly. It doesn’t help to dissipate the flush on your face, but the compliment doesn’t bother you in the slightest. Jungkook leans in to trail kisses past your collarbones and into the swell of your breasts, making you bite your lip with anticipation. He looks at you asking for permission and you nod quickly with parted lips as you start to become impatient for him to make his next move. Jungkook lowers the cups of your breasts, freeing your hardened nipples and immediately envelopes one of them with his lips. “Mph—!” A sigh escapes your lips as you try to memorize the way his tongue traces over your tit. He pays attention to your other one, fingers rolling over the bud and pinching ever so often.

You can feel your panties damp by then, trespassing into the fabric of the black leggings you’re wearing over them. Reaching behind your back, you fumble in unclasping the hooks of the now uncomfortable bra. Jungkook’s forced to stop the undivided attention he had places on your breasts to look at you like he’s lost, why are you going so fast?

Once your hands delve with the buckle of his belt, he has to hold on to your wrists with a firm grasp, ‘‘What are you doing?’’ He asks with quick breath, you blink stoically towards him.

‘‘Uh─getting you naked?’’ You answer with a nonchalant tone, but his hands don’t let go and your demeanor changes, ‘‘D-Did you not want this?’’ Your voice turns smaller, embarrassed that maybe you had pressured him into something he didn’t want to participate in.

Jungkook quickly shakes his head no, ‘‘No, I-I do want this! It’s just─you’re going so fast,’’ he tries to explain, ‘‘I’ve been waiting for this for too long, I don’t wanna rush.’’ Your eyes lit up at the revelation as he waits for you to answer back, only for his back to hit the comforter with a small thud, giggling at the way you urgently kiss him again, but this time with much more care.

‘‘Why didn’t you say so before, stupid?’’ You mumble with a sheepish look, ‘‘I thought it was just going to be─nevermind, I need you right now.’’ You have to force yourself from spitting out any details that could possibly ruin the moment between you two, deciding to wait instead for any emotional confessions you want to make.

He switches positions between the two, panting as he brings you down to the mattress and Jungkook can feel the goosebumps on your skin, whether from the coldness of the room or because of the sheer electricity of his hands caressing your body like it was molded just right for him. He dips his hand lower, cupping your clothed heat on his hand. It makes you tremble and you whine, encouraging him to keep going.

“Baby, you’re really wet,” he comments with a teasing tone and you pout at him. His fingers hook into the waistband of your leggings and he pulls them down as he travels with them, greeted by the sight of the damp cloth of your panties. He exhales with content, caressing your thighs in an up and down motion. You twist underneath him and he has to hold your hips down to calm you down, “Patience is a virtue.”

“I’ve been too patient, do some—Ah!” Your whining is interrupted once Jungkook moves your underwear to the side holding it with his free hand, fingers coming to trace the slick covering your pussy lips. He becomes entranced with the transparent gooey liquid, bringing them close to his face as he separates his fingers and sees a strand connecting between them. “Guk-ah, p-please…” Your needy voice brings him back to reality, delving his fingers back into your exposed heat but this time with intent.

Jungkook’s thumb lifts the hood covering your clit, mouth coming down to give it a small tentative kiss. That action alone has you writhing above him, it makes him chuckle to himself as he dives back in. The moans you let out are loud and clear inside your bedroom, thankful that it’s only you and him inside your house. Your hand pulls at his hair, making him groan against you and the vibrations are felt throughout your body, only adding to the euphoric pleasure you already possess. His fingers trace the inside of your thighs until they reach your entrance, circling the fluttering hole which makes you pull at his hair harder and with your other you hold on to the bedsheets of the comforter tightly into your fist.

Jungkook’s tongue is still working your engorged bud, but he focuses his eyes on you as he dips the first finger inside you. “Oh—fuck,” you let out in a breathy moan. He tries to maintain a rhythm between his two ministrations, but it’s hard when he wants to focus on all of them at once. “‘Nother, please,” you begged once he let your clit rest, quickly following your request by adding another into your warm heat. He lets out a breathless chuckle as he notices how easy it is to thrust both fingers inside of you, your whole crotch area is covered in slick and his wet chin is a dead giveaway to where he was seconds ago.

He watches you unravel over him with such adoration, not even his wettest dreams or dirtiest fantasies could prepare him for this. Seven minutes in heaven he plans to stay in forever. “Guk-ah, I wan’ you. I-Inside, please.” You plead with teary eyes, and he slowly stops, removing his arousal covered fingers from inside you as he makes you sigh in the process. He kisses you again and again, your hazy brain is probably hallucinating all of this right now, but damn is it good. You tug at the crewneck he’s wearing, he’s too overdressed for this occasion. He tends to your demands, quickly getting rid of all the layers of clothing that stop him from being inside of you fully.

“I don’t have a—“

“I’m on the pill.”

You both speak at the same time, making each other chuckle. Jungkook gulps at the idea of taking you raw as the first time together, and you salivate at his hardened length; the head already oozing precum out and you want nothing more than to wrap your lips around it and lick the tip up. You’re just about to when Jungkook quickly grabs your wrist to stop you from reaching him, you look up at him with the big sparkly eyes he has loved for too long.

“I just—I wanna be inside you right now,” he sheepishly admits, and you smile with a nod; sharing the sentiment. You back up until your head rests on the pillows comfortably, relaxing into the mattress as you wait for Jungkook to ready himself. He places a kiss on your lips before placing a hand next to your head, using it as leverage above you. His free hand takes his cock and rubs the tip along your folds, making you squirm with anticipation. Jungkook chuckles, “Are you ready?” He asks with a sweet smile.

“I’ve always been,” you whisper, your hand tucking a strand of his long hair behind his ear.

A caress to his cheek as he nods, slowly pushing the head of his dick into you. You bite into your lip hard, it’s been a while since you had sex with someone and Jungkook’s size and girth was different from the rest. Your walls are tight around him and he has a tough time trying to reach the hilt with you squeezing him so hard, “Baby, relax for me.” He pleads and you nod apologetically, breathing in deep as you feel him reach parts inside of you, you didn’t know existed. Once he’s all the way in, he waits for you to give him the go ahead while he presses kisses into your heated cheek. You wrap your legs around his waist and give him a nod, letting him know he was allowed to start thrusting.

Jungkook manages to hit all the right places, keeping a steady pace as he enters and exits you each time. You’re left to moan and writhe underneath him, letting him take you as he pleases. Your kisses become messy, teeth biting into each other’s lips, teeth grazing against each other as you both tried to fight for the dominant position. It’s that heavy makeout that incites you to push at his shoulders, making him turn in his back, exiting you in the process. Jungkook pants, chest rising and falling with quickness as you straddle his lap, arms connecting behind his neck.

“You always want to win, right?” He chuckles with half lidded eyes, enjoying the way your pussy lips grinded over his twitching length. You bat your eyelashes at him, offering him an innocent smile. The same technique that used to get you everything you wanted when you were younger. Same determination as you seek for what’s yours. He’s under you after all, still a victim to your charms.

Jungkook takes the bulbous head of his cock and teases it in your clit, if you weren’t holding on to him tight you would’ve collapsed into his chest. And by the way you moan his name out, he knows you’ll always look for him no matter the weather. “What a pretty girl,” he coos into your hair and you pinch his nipple in retaliation which only makes him groan in return. “My pretty girl.” He states before sinking himself deep into you again, sighing at the feeling of your hips circling over him. His rough hands guide them as you bounce up and down his length, moaning every time you rose and hissing when you came back down.

He makes sure to keep this image engraved on his head forever. Your breasts bouncing over his face, your thighs working extra hard to keep up with his thrusts, and the way your sounds bounced off the walls of your bedroom.

“You’re doing s-so good, baby.” Jungkook praises you, kneading your ass cheek. “Taking my cock s-so well,” he falls into a trance of admiring the way his length would appear and disappear inside of you, covered in a thick layer of your arousal. It makes him drill into you faster, sitting properly against the bed’s headboard as he takes your hips with force. He’s too turned on to keep treating you so delicately, and the way you moan and pant at the increase in speed only lets him know you enjoy him like this way more. “I-Is it good, baby? Am I-I fucking you well?” He asks in between rapid thrusts, your thighs had given out by then.

You nod and a whimper escapes your lips, “Y-yes, Guk-Ah. S-so good, feels amazing.” Your praise is honest, the fucked out tone in your voice is a clear indicator of how well of a job he was doing. A minute longer and you’ll be right on cloud nine, never wanting to come back down. “Wanna cum Guk-Ah, plea—“ There’s no need for you to even finish your sentence because his thumb rubs your clit in figure eights, making you groan with the intensified feeling of his hips circling inside you deliciously. You can almost see the blinding white light ahead as Jungkook kisses you feverishly. You feel tears escape the corners of your high, the familiar feeling tickling inside you as Jungkook’s thrusts don’t let up. ‘‘Ah! Yes, yes, fuck,’’ you cry out once your orgasm hits. Jungkook holds you close to his chest, trying to soothe your shaking body with his arms. Your walls squeeze and relax continuously around him, it serves him as the impulse he needs to chase his own high.

‘‘I love you, Jungkook,’’ you confess in between panting breaths, ‘‘so much.’’

His release shoots out and he groans, digging crescent moons into your hips. You hiss at the sensation, but giggle at how his eyes are screwed shut and brows still furrowed together, as if he was holding on to the last of his orgasm. In reality, Jungkook is just hoping that once he opens his eyes you’ll still be in his arms. Your fingers tilting his head to face you are very much real, he sees spots once he opens his eyes as they adjust to the room’s lighting.

‘‘I love you too.’’ He says with a fixed gaze and you coo at how perfect this is.

You’re twenty-two when Jungkook’s finally yours.

You’re both twenty-three and it’s another weekend spent at his apartment, he’s been playing for three hours now and you’ve given up on having him pay attention to you. Deciding to switch your plan around and join him instead, if only he would let you play.

‘‘Jungkook, you said it was going to be my turn five rounds ago!’�� You complain with a pout, crossing your arms across your chest.

His gaze is still stuck on the T.V screen, ‘‘Baby, shhh, you’re gonna make me lose.’’ He mumbles as he tries to remain concentrated on the game in hand, but he can hear your humph’s from behind him, ‘‘Patience is a─’’

‘‘Virtue, yeah, who cares.’’ You interrupt him with a roll of your eyes, familiar with the saying a little too well. ‘‘Hope you remember that for later tonight,’’ you add in a mumble, but he doesn’t hear it because of the loud sounds coming from the game on the screen.

‘‘What did you say, babe?’’ He asks with a raised brow, hitting the buttons of the controller with expert ease.

‘‘I’ll call your mom and tell her you don’t wanna share.’’ You joke with a threatening voice, but Jungkook knows better than to take your words so lightly. He pauses the game and turns to look at you with an are you serious? expression on his face, you giggle as you’ve finally got what you wanted.

He apologizes by covering your face with kisses, pleading for you not to tell on him with his mom. You promise not to do so this time, knowing that the woman was probably tired of having to scold his son at his big age.

Plus, ever since Jungkook surprised you with the almost exact replica of the Valentine’s Day card you gave him all those year back, you’ve taken advantage to tease him even more knowing he’s at your beck and call. You always remind him that he came close because the stickers he used were not like the ones you had, but he remembered to add the hearts on the I’s so that’s good enough.

‘‘Alright you can play, but━!’’ He says after he finishes his attack of kisses, ‘‘I’ll be your guide, I can’t risk you messing my record up, no offense baby.’’ None taken as you nod excitedly, you’ll always take whatever chance he gives you.

Jungkook’s finally learned how to share his toys after all.

#heartsforbts #bangtanhq #btswritingcafe #jungkook smut #jungkook au #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenario #jungkook fic #bts smut #f: year 22

3K notes · View notes

jtrbluv · 4 years

Text

we’re not really strangers | pjm

summary: We’re Not Really Strangers is a purpose-driven card game and movement all about empowering meaningful connections. Three carefully crafted levels of questions and wildcards that allow you to deepen your existing relationships and create new ones. Ready?

or alternatively,

your furtive infatuation with your lifelong best friend proves to be hard to suppress when there’s (1) alcohol involved and (2) a card game that forces you to reveal more about yourself than you could ever wish for. in short, no, you are not ready.

[friends to lovers!au]

pairing: jimin x reader

genre: fluff, crack, slight angst

word count: 8.7k

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, two emotionally constipated best friend, PG-15

A/N: hi, i’ve been really excited about this fic for a while, and i’m genuinely so happy that i finally finished it! the card game is in fact real and i got inspired for this fic after i had played the game with a couple of friends myself. AHEM! @koushiningg ! we both cried and i do highly recommend to play it! but anyways, i hope you enjoy this fic because i had a lot of fun writing it! sending love always... jumi out!

EDIT: @bangtans-peaceful-piegon i’d also like to thank the lovely pidge for beta reading this 4 me as well! PIDGE I FUCKIN LOB U!!!

PLAYLIST ; SEQUEL

♤ ♤ ♤

Not once in your life did you ever imagine a simple card game to become the bane of your existence.

Yet Park Jimin was able to prove you wrong.

Let’s play ‘We’re Not Really Strangers’ he said. It’ll be fun, he said.

You stare down at the card in front of you—everything else in your periphery was blurry in vision and you can audibly pinpoint the erratic beating of your heart.

The card was practically taunting you, laughing in your face. It was as if there was a sentient being in the room who was aware of your own subconscious and the not so latent feelings you had for the boy sitting in front of you.

Same said being loved to constantly place you in a state of trepidation concerning your current situation—your blood pressure skyrocketing—nearly feeling the muscular pink thing inside of you thrusting itself against your ribcage.

The white card with crimson red writing made sure to leave an impact, making you feel the most ridiculed you’ve felt all night which says a lot—leaving your mind in a complete frenzy although you refused to let it be known.

And so you sat there. Fiddling the card in between your fingers, feigning nonchalance. You were very much on the brink of cracking your facade—your sanity practically crumbling as the minutes ticked by. You didn’t think you’d last this long to be honest. Yet an hour and a half proved to be way too straining on your body, especially your heart.

He simply sat there with his hands folded on the table—void of emotion, whistling a familiar top 50s tune you couldn’t quite put your finger on. You considered shifting your focuses on trying to comprehend the tune—hoping it would ease the concerning state of apprehension you were in.

But then you remember that you aren’t that pathetic. Even though you both had probably been sitting in complete silence for about two minutes now. Up to the point where you could probably hear the crickets chirping outside his apartment, except the only sound that was filling your ears was your own conscience telling you how idiotic you were being.

Your face may be gradually morphing the same shade of crimson as the writing inscribed onto the card itself, and you may have a whole line of sweat encompassing your hairline. But it’s just a stupid little card game. You could say any stupid little answer and the stupid not-so-little boy wouldn’t care. He wouldn’t care. So you shouldn’t care.

When did you become so pathetic after all?

-one hour and a half ago-

“Why can’t we just play Mario Kart or Uno? This sounds like there’s too much thinking involved,” you whine, leaning against the side of his couch.

“One, we always play that. And two, I always lose,” he grumbles, plopping down onto the floor.

Jimin rests his back on the frame of the couch as he sits in the small gap made by the large piece of furniture and the coffee table that resided in front of it. You decide to sit on the floor as well, around an arm’s length away from your friend. He places the red box down onto the table—opening the cap and revealing the contents with a mischievous glint in his irises.

Within the box was a deck of cards, separated into three piles with two pencils on either side. Knowing Jimin, you assumed this game had an ulterior motive you were unaware of, and by the title of the game, you could already tell that you weren’t going to like it very much.

“How do you even play this?” You ask, causing him to look up in return.

He bites his lip, taking a couple seconds to ponder on your question, “I don’t know it’s my first-time playing too,” he shrugs. “I was watching Jin and Namjoon playing it a couple of weeks ago and for some reason, Jungkook started crying.”

“He is a sap,” you hum in agreement, thinking in retrospect of Jungkook crying from various situations such as Iron Man dying or that one time Jin farted on his pillow and he got pink eye for a whole week.

“The biggest,” he concurs, “Hm, there’s no instructions in here.” He mutters while shuffling through the cards.

“Why don’t you just search it up?” You suggest, sliding the box to yourself as he nods and fishes his phone out of his pocket.

While holding the box in the palm of your hand, you scan the contents—turning it around in your palm until your eyes narrow in on the words printed at the bottom.

“Oh, it says something here.”

His head perks up. “Hm? What is it?”

You clear your throat at the sight of the long explanation. “We’re Not Really Strangers is a purpose-driven card game and movement all about empowering meaningful connections. Three carefully crafted levels of questions and wildcards that allow you to deepen your existing relationships and create new ones.” You internally grimace at the words. The game hasn’t even started and you already had a bad feeling about it all. “Ready?” You say through clenched teeth, purposely keeping your head hung low.

Jimin’s lips quirk up into a cheerful grin, unaware of the piercing stare you were giving him. “Okay, I think I got it,” he declares, eyes zeroed in on his phone once more, ”There’s three levels—perception, connection, and reflection. Each level we pass, the deeper and more thought-provoking the questions get. Helping us make a deeper connection and get to know each other better yadda yadda yadda.”

You nod in understanding, sliding the box of cards back towards him—forcing the grimace that kept threatening to plaster itself onto your face into a small, smug smile.

“The first thing we have to do,” he begins, taking out two pencils and two small pieces of paper, “is write messages to each other. We won’t be able to open these until after we leave.” He explains, sliding a pencil and paper towards you.

“Wow, very cryptic,” you tut, biting down on your bottom lip before more distasteful remarks decided to leave your lips. He doesn’t catch your reaction or your comment though because he’s already got his pencil in his hand, scribbling vigorously onto the tiny piece of paper. Knowing him it could very well be nonsensical insults and doodles, or a whole essay about your friendship and what you mean to him. Most likely ludicrous and full of thought, either way, just like him.

Without much thought, you lazily jot onto the paper.

know that i love u, u fucker <3

-y/n

The sound of your pencil falling against the table causes him to look up at you, eyes knit together in confusion.

“You’re done already?”

You chuckle, “I mean, I wasn’t going to write an essay. You already know how I feel about you. But it seems like you’re writing one though.”

His eyes narrow in on you—giving you an indiscernible look before letting out a small ‘hmph’ and lowering his focus back down to his pencil and paper. You dismiss his enigmatic behavior—deciding to mindlessly scroll on your phone while waiting for him to finish his MLA formatted essay.

Two minutes pass and you hear the sound of his pencil being placed onto the table. “Done.”

“You added citations too right?”

He scoffs, “No, but i’ll gladly add some if you’d like.”

You roll your eyes for what seems like the umpteenth time in the last five minutes, “Just start the goddamn game.”

He takes the first stack of cards and shuffles them between his hands. “In all three levels, there are wild cards or basically dares we have to complete. And for each level, we get two ‘dig deeper’ cards. Pretty self-explanatory. So this is the perception level. It’s basically designed for first encounters and strangers, and we’re gonna be asking each other questions about ourselves.”

Your eyes widen at the whole confidentiality of it all. “Are we going through all of those cards?” You blurt out, staring at what seemed to be like 50 cards in his hands.

“Oh no,” he quickly refutes, “It would take hours. We’ll just do like 12 cards each.”

“Alright,” you huff, letting out a small breath of relief.

“Yay! Okay I’ll go first,” he beams, his toothy smile evident as he places the deck in between the two of you while grabbing a card from the top, “What do you think my name is?”

You snort at the conspicuousness of the question, “Jamal.”

He immediately guffaws at your response, throwing his head back in addition. “Hey, I don’t mind that.”

“Are all of the questions like this?” You say in between hushed laughter.

“Nah,” he shakes his head as you pick up another card from the deck, “now you ask me.”

“Alright, what’s the first thing you noticed about me?” You ask, slightly taken aback by the sudden earnestness of the question, causing you to become genuinely curious about what his answer was going to be.

He hums, taking a second to think it through. “I think your smile and your laugh. It’s always been really contagious since the day I met you.” He admits, almost matter-of-factly as if it was something you should’ve known by now, yet you did not.

Your heart nearly disintegrates into a puddle of goop right then and there, but you manage to conceal your reaction, “Aw, you actually like me.” You tease.

He scoffs with a playful grin on his lips. “Don’t flatter yourself. You still cackle like a damn hyena.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, “At least I don’t laugh at every single of Jin’s lame ass jokes.”

He gasps, jaw slack open due to your all too accurate truthbomb, “I did not ask to be attacked in my own residence.”

“Well, what are you gonna do about it then.”

He snorts. “Holy shit, do you remember when I banged my head on the corner of his coffee table.”

“How could I forget? I had the picture of the bump on your head as my lockscreen for like a month.” You reminisce, resisting the urge to pull up the picture from your phone.

“Yeah, and that same month I bought and rotated between the same 10 hats.”

“Hey! It genuinely didn’t look as bad as you thought.”

He whips his head towards you, giving you a piercing glare that made you want to redact your statement immediately.

He grins from ear to ear, the little shit, amused at the reaction he was able to garner from you.

“Aha!” He suddenly guffaws, shooting out of the floor and prancing towards his fridge. He then takes out three bottles of lychee-flavored soju and makes his way back towards the table.

Jimin being the borderline alcoholic he is, it doesn’t come as a surprise to you. Not even after he takes another trip back to the fridge to grab yet another three bottles of soju, mango-flavored to be exact. He has probably one of the stupidest grins etched onto his face as he held onto the bottles—meanwhile you were more concerned about the possibility of having to clean up a bunch of broken glass and wasted soju. Then again, it wouldn’t be the first time.

“And do you plan on drinking all of this by yourself?” you say, gesturing towards the bottles.

“I know my liver is strong, but I don’t buy this shit just to enjoy alone,” he retorts. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you shake your head as you click your tongue, “Playing this while tipsy just sounds ten times better don’t you think?.”

You shrug—although you had a strong hunch for what he was insinuating, “I mean I guess.”

He starts to pour soju into his shot glass, stopping just before it hits the brim. He slides the glass to you and you take it into your hand, eyeing the sparkling fluid and thinking about the way the contents would do its little all-too-familiar dance on your tongue.

“Well, you know what they say,” he says, pouring a glass for himself, “drunk words are sober thoughts,” he finishes while dragging out the last word—downing the first shot in one quick swig. You follow his lead soon thereafter, refusing to let your mind linger on what he had just said and the viable likelihood of you spewing out the words that could just make or break your longstanding friendship and lead to a lifetime of regret.

Obviously, everything’s going fine and dandy for you.

The next 20 minutes consisted of a plethora of superficial questions that would vary from:

“What's your favorite song lyric you can think of off the top of your head?”

Your head shoots up as if the lightbulb in your head just flashed on. “Easy. Shawty’s like a melody in my head that i cant keep out got me singing like-“

He lunges over to clap a hand over your mouth before you could sing the next line. “Na na na na no Y/N. Please stop.”

Or something along the lines of:

“What character do you think I'd play in a movie?” He asks with a smug smile.

“You’d be the second male lead that everyone secretly wants to end up with the main character because you act all sweet and kind and and genuinely cares about her but instead she chooses the other guy because something about him draws her in and it was her ‘gut instinct’ or some shit like that.”

“So I would get second male lead syndrome?” He reiterates.

“Yes.”

He sets his shot glass back down with a glower, clearly taken aback. “That is the biggest insult I’ve ever gotten in my entire life.”

You also couldn’t forget about:

“Oh, this one says to create a secret handshake.”

“No.” You deadpan.

“And why not?”

“Your pinky‘s the size of a vienna sausa—“

He smacks you square in the cheek with a pillow before you could finish your sentence. You don’t even fight back because your mind was so slow to process what he had just done. The fact that you only slept for 5 hours last night didn’t help whatsoever. Your evident lack of energy causes him to jab his finger into your side, causing a loud shriek—your fight or flight response starts kicking in as you grab the back of his neck and slam his face against the fabric of the couch cushion.

Soju was never able to make the two of you full on drunk—buzzed of course, but not enough for complete incoherency. And so you both down a bottle each before finishing the first round.

“I’m surprised we didn’t get any wild cards that round,” he says while resting his head on the couch.

You purse your lips, “You spoke too soon.”

His eyes flash open as he cranes his neck in an attempt to see the card. “Wait actually?”

You can feel your insides churn as you read the words in front of you, and you were sure that it wasn’t the alcohol talking. “Write down the three most important things to you in a relationship for 30 seconds and then compare.”

Jimin reaches over to grab two pieces of paper and pencils while unlocking his phone to find the timer app, “Okay, I’ll put a timer on for 30 seconds starting… now.”

And so the internal monologue in your head begins.

Three most important things… only three? That’s not anywhere near enough to suffice. Wait, what would the first one even be… oh yeah, trust. Trust is very much important yes, yes, yes. What else? Um, communication? Yes of course, that’s essential. Okay, what would the last one be?

You sneak a glance over at Jimin. His cheek is squished against the palm of his hand, making his cheek fat (an area in which he lacked in) more prominent and the pink, plush flesh of his lips appear even bigger than they already were.

The ceiling light emitted a faint, ambient glow—the lights and shadows hitting all the slopes and curves of his face. You never understood how someone could be so effortlessly stunning. Even the mess atop his head that’s supposed to be his hair looks purposely tousled—the ebony strands sticking up in multiple directions was framing his temples and contrasted with the honey-like hues of his skin.

Unlike the glow that radiated from the lights of the worn-down apartment and the radiance of whatever was beyond the glass of the window behind him, everything about him seemed to glow much brighter.

“Hello, earth to Y/N, your 30 seconds is up.” He interrupts pointedly, waving a hand in front of your face.

Blinking rapidly, you shake your head as well as all preceding thoughts that definitely weren’t consuming your mind a few seconds ago, “Sorry w-what?”

He laughs at your disoriented state, “Did you finish writing your three things?”

No, I wrote your name as number 3. “Yeah, I did. You can go first though.”

He nods with a small smile. “Oh, okay then let’s see. First, I put trust. I don’t know, I think everyone puts that to be honest. After that, I put communication. I feel like that’s just a given y’know. Another thing I feel like most people would say.”

You utter a timid “mhm” under your breath albeit zoning out and being unaware of what he was saying. Opportunely, you managed to scribble out his name with the mere seconds that had passed and now you were tapping the lead point of the pencil against the paper, littering the page with a bunch of grey, little dots—incognizant to the fact that he had his eyes focused on you the whole time.

“I didn’t really know what to put last. Three things isn’t anywhere near enough in my opinion. But at the last second, I wrote down vulnerability,” he continues.

You look up upon hearing the last word. “Oh wow, that’s good. I didn’t even think about that.”

He chuckles unabashedly, clearly pleased with your reaction. “Right? I just figured. At first, I thought it would go in the same category as trust but then I thought about it more. Yeah, you can trust someone and someone can trust you, but to what extent does that all go to. Where does it start? And where does it even end? You need to be able to open up to the person I feel like. So I guess trust and vulnerability go hand in hand.”

Impressed with his words, you decide to chime in. “Wouldn’t communication go along with it too?”

“Hm?”

You place your pencil down. “You would open up to each other by means of communication, becoming more vulnerable, and then overall gaining more trust in the end.”

His brows raise at your sudden revelation, “Wait, you’re so right, did you just wax poetic and full cycle all that?.”

You smile, “I mean I guess,” you respond humbly, “ it does make sense though, does it not?”

He hums in agreement while downing another shot, “It applies to us, right?”

You force out a chuckle, but it comes out a lot more faux-sounding than you would’ve liked. “Haha, yeah I guess it does, doesn’t it.” Once again, starting to dive deeper into the abyss of pitiful hope and unrequitedness.

“Describe your perfect day.” He suddenly interjects.

You quirk a brow. “Didn’t I just go?”

“It’s okay, I’ll go for this one too.”

“Alright,” you say, foot tapping on the wooden floor as you look past him and out into the glass window of his living room, “well, I wouldn’t have school of course. And I think it would all depend on how I feel that day. If I was feeling particularly lazy, the day would probably consist of me binge-watching shows in bed while eating a shitton of carbs. And the other case would probably be galavanting around the city or going to an amusement park with friends.”

Jimin listens intently and smiles as you speak, causing you to avoid his stare before pigment threatened to rush to your cheeks, “Both of those scenarios sound really nice. I better be included too.”

You roll your eyes, turning away to hide the grin creeping up your cheeks, “We’ll see.”

He groans, standing up from his spot on the floor and falling onto his couch instead, “My asscheeks hurt.”

Your face contorts into a look of disgust, “And you want me to do what with that information?”

Scoffing lightly, he leans back into the cushions and tilts his head back, “It was a declaration, not a cry for help.”

“Yeah, and it’s the bony ass for me.”

His head perks up. “It’s having a flatter ass than their guy best friend for me.”

Gulping down the sad but unequivocal truth, “It’s kissing up to every teacher’s ass for me.”

His eyes narrow in pure chagrin, “It’s the crying on your teacher’s doorstep for them to round your grade for me.”

“It’s splitting your pants on orientation day for me.”

“Fuck you, people would pay to see this ass! It’s getting a concussion from falling down the main hall stairs for me.”

“For fuck’s sake, I told you that they waxed the floors that day!” You snap back.

“Okay, and who said it was a good idea to walk down three flights of stairs while trying to cram for a midterm? Yeah, exactly no one.” He says incisively, giving you an even bigger urge to push him off of the couch, yet you digress.

“This could go on for hours.” You heave out.

“Is that the sound of someone giving up I’m hearing?”

“Is that the sound of a midget I’m hearing?”

“But I’m taller than you?!” He screeches petulantly, smacking your shoulder. You burst out into a fit of laughter—toppling onto the wooden floor with pure malice.

Gasping for air, you attempt to stifle your laughter and regain your breath. “Wow, I’m on a roll today! I deserve another shot.”

He shakes his head, his anger quelling at the sight of your giddiness. “Remind me to not let you drink and play this game.”

You turn over from your side to lay on your back. “This will be the first and the last time I play this game with you.” You say almost immediately—the words involuntarily slipping from your mouth before you could stop it.

He sinks in his spot on the couch, brows knitting at your comment. “Why?”

Sobriety crashes into you like a colossal wave —your irritation dissipates almost immediately. The exaggerated tone your voice begins to register through your head—as well as the fact that you sounded a lot more disapproving than you intended.

Groaning at your hindered ability to think and process properly, you attempt to clear the air, “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. We just... practically know everything about each other I guess. What else is there to know?”

He hums. “You sure about that?”

What? “Wait what?”

“Nothing,” he chuckles awkwardly, “next question.”

The straightforwardness of the next question causes you to quirk a brow, “How are you, really?”

His eyes widen. “Well, that’s a deep one, isn’t it?”

You smile. “A little.”

He sighs, a small grin lacing his features, “Hm, how am I,” he affirms, adjusting himself in his spot on the couch, “I feel content with where I am right now, I guess. Things can always be better, but at the same time they could be worse too.”

Your number one defense mechanism as of late has been to constantly tease and make jokes at the poor guy—essentially using him as your own mental punching bag. He went along with it out of the assumption that it was all caused by your stress from school while you knew the true origins of your behavior.

You smile at his optimism, "Hey, that's always good to hear."

He chuckles, shifting his position on the couch so he could face you directly, "I don't know, maybe it's the new sense of freedom. Or all the amazing people I've gotten to meet and the opportunities that are offered here. Or the fact that I'm still going to the same school as my best friend after all this damn time."

"Chim, don't get sappy on me man." You warn him while pouting exaggeratedly— slumping onto the frame of the couch while he takes a strand of your hair in between his fingers. You bask in the moment, your eyes shutting close.

"Hey, I'm just being honest! For some reason, it all makes up for the impending student debt and draining lectures and professors that have a superiority complex as fat as their paycheck."

"Too bad their paycheck still isn't as fat as your ass."

An audible gasp coming from the only other person in the room causes your eyes to flutter open.

"Aw," he coos, ruffling the hair atop of your head, "that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me all night. Admit it, you love me."

Out of instinct, you opt to stick your tongue at him instead of replying with a witty comeback. You turn away from him before mumbling to yourself, "More than you'll ever know buddy."

"What was that?"

Shit. "Nothing. Next question!"

After twenty questions and a whopping 10 empty soju bottles later, you are quite literally about to implode.

Your eyes stare down at the card in front of you—everything that surrounds it is blurry in vision and you can audibly pinpoint the erratic beating of your heart.

The card was practically taunting you, laughing in your face. It was as if there was a sentient being in the universe who was aware of your own subconscious and the not so latent feelings you had for the boy sitting in front of you. Same said being loved to constantly place you in a state of trepidation concerning your current situation—your blood pressure skyrocketing—nearly feeling the muscular pink thing inside of you thrusting itself against your ribcage.

The imminent headache was starting to spread towards your temples and you practically felt like you could feel your brain shifting inside your head at this point. Although you felt groggy, you were certain that your heart was at a rate that is way faster than it should be. And sitting on your legs has caused them to lose all feeling from the tips of your toes all the way up to your kneecaps. One attempt at standing and you would come crashing to the floor in a heartbeat.

To say you were mad was an understatement. Out of all the times throughout the entirety of this hour and a half that you were playing this game, he decided that now would be the best time to use his 'dig deeper' card.

There it was.

Admit something.

"Okay fine, I was the one who stuck pink hair dye in your shampoo last semester."

"Y/N, did you really think I didn't know? C’mon I know there’s something else in there.”

You scowl, brows furrowing, “Why would I keep something from you?”

“Why are you getting so defensive over this?”

"What the hell is there for me to admit to you?" You snap back in exasperation, the harsh tone of your voice rendering the two of you speechless.

He averts his gaze, closing his eyes while inhaling a deep sigh. "Ever since we started college, why have you been treating me so differently?"

Your eyes widen in disbelief, stumped. Yet you refuse to wither out of this.

"I– are you mad?"

"No. Of course not," he quickly digresses, softening his gaze, "I just noticed after all this time that you've only been acting differently towards me. Did I do something wrong?"

"No, you didn't do anything wrong Jimin. You never have."

His eyes narrow, giving you yet another indecipherable look, "I'm using my 'dig deeper' card." He deadpans.

And so you sat there. Fiddling the card in between your fingers, feigning nonchalance. You were very much on the brink of cracking your facade—your sanity practically crumbling as the minutes ticked by. You didn’t think you’d last this long, to be honest. Yet an hour and a half proved to be way too straining on you in a variety of different ways.

He simply sat there with his hands folded on the table—void of emotion, whistling a familiar top 50s tune you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

You considered shifting your focuses on trying to comprehend the tune—hoping it would ease the concerning state of apprehension you were in. But then you assured yourself that you haven't reached that level of patheticism yet.

Even though you both had probably been sitting in complete silence for about two minutes now —practically anyone else could detect was the crickets chirping outside his apartment, yet the only sound that was filling your eardrums was your own conscience telling you how idiotic you were being.

This was it. There was no point in trying to weasel yourself out of this situation. If you tried, your more than futile attempt could very well end up causing more problems than if you were to go with the latter.

So instead of constantly wracking your brain with witty banter and deceitful ways to gaslight your feelings for the man sitting in front of you, you come to terms with the fact that your time had run out. You internally commend yourself for putting up a good fight, as well as internally become accosted at how immature you were at handling the whole situation.

You sharply inhale through your nose, peering at the man sitting in front of you as his eyes meet your own, "Alright."

He offers you a small yet empathetic smile in return, giving you the tiniest sliver of reassurance. His hand pats the couch cushion next to him, motioning for you to sit down next to him.

You push yourself up from the floor, immediately propping a leg onto the couch to avoid your numb limbs to be the cause of your embarrassment.

You inhale slowly through your nose and out through your mouth. "This is going to sound really absurd. Like more than absurd. Possibly borderline hysterical." No Y/N, why would you say that?

He interjects, placing a hand on your forearm. "I'm beginning to think you're becoming borderline hysterical," he lets out a small chuckle, "slow down Y/N. One thought at a time."

Your jaw is still slack open due to your previous rambling. "I'm sorry, I just—I don't think I've ever felt this anxious… around you at least."

He bites his lip, eyes trailing away from yours as he tries to think of a way to aid you, "Will it help if I turn around?

"Maybe." You reply timidly, smiling to yourself as his back came into view.

“It’ll be pretty funny if we don’t remember this in the morning,” you start off with, “I shouldn’t be saying that either I’m sorry. Stupid alcohol.”

He snickers at your drunken state, it was adorable. “Pretend I’m not here Y/N. Like you’re talking to a wall.” He advises, back still turned.

You nod although he can’t see you. “Okay. Well, hi Mr. Wall. I’ve been keeping a secret from my best friend for as long as I’ve known him and I don’t know what to do about it. I’ve suppressed it all this time in hopes that it would eventually fade away, and it almost did. No really, it actually almost did. But now it’s back again and all the same feelings came, but like freaking twofold. No, tenfold. No, like a hundred fucking fold.”

Jimin tries excruciatingly hard to stifle his laughter, cupping a hand to his mouth so he wouldn’t move and distract you.

“I’m literally in love with my freaking best friend when I know he doesn’t see me in that light nor will he ever. If he did, we wouldn’t be where we are right now because I am so shitty at hiding my feelings that I am more than certain that I’ve let the truth slip a couple of times.” You say all in one breath.

He slowly detaches his hand from his mouth, eyebrows raising in disbelief in the words you had just said. His body urges him to turn around. Yet you continue to think out loud. So he digresses.

“Towards the end of high school, I think my feelings started to become more dormant because I had become more concerned over finishing high school and transitioning into college. I was content and I convinced myself that my feelings were fleeting for once.” You begin with, allowing whatever thoughts that you consumed your mind to spill all out for Mr. Wall to hear.

You sigh, taking a pillow from his couch and squeezing onto it for dear life. “That was until we ended up getting into our top picks and going to the same school. I couldn’t believe it. My stupid head tried to convince me that life had always just paired the two of us up together for some reason. And that maybe, just maybe I had a chance. But whatever I guess. I don’t know.”

A notification causes your eyes to trail to your phone. Really, Professor La, this is not a good time to tell me to finish my research paper. You swipe at the notification, revealing your lock screen—a photo of you and Jimin at an amusement park back at your hometown, sporting matching university hoodies with bright smiles on your faces that were captured mid-laughter.

Setting your phone down, you lean into the couch—letting your head fall into the cushions as your eyelids slowly start to droop shut. “What also didn’t help is how college life just seems to suit him perfectly. He just always looks so happy now. Like yeah, he’s always been a social butterfly. Yet in addition to that he has top notch grades. He charms professors. For fuck’s sake the Dean treats him like a son. His passion, his laughter, his love, his happiness. It’s always been so infectious. But college just made the effect he has on people grow even stronger. I-,” you stammer, pausing breathlessly, “it just looks like he truly belongs here. Like college was just made for him.”

He sits there in a complete stupor—still trying to process all the words that he had just heard. His body is itching to turn around, take you into his arms, whisper soft nothings into your ear. Anythings. Everything. He never wanted you to feel anxious about his feelings for you ever again.

“Mr. Wall, that was a lot, I’m sorry. But I’m really… really tired.” You utter quietly, a long yawn escaping your lips. You fall asleep.

Ten seconds pass until Jimin sneaks a glance over his shoulder, scanning your body as he notices your shut eyes and timid grip on his pillow.

“Y/N?”

You’re unresponsive.

He grins at the sight. Getting up from his seat, he makes his way toward you—slowly prying the pillow from your grasp as you carefully slides his hands under your body and picks you up from the couch.

Instinctively, you wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face into his shoulder as he carries you to his bedroom. You are very much still asleep, yet you always had the habit of needing something to hold onto while you were unconscious.

Kicking the sheets aside, he makes room for you to lie down as he gently places you onto his bed. He quickly scurries to the other side, slipping into the covers himself as he lays down beside you.

The sudden contact causes you to shift in your sleep—suddenly wrapping an arm around his torso. He lays there, completely stunned at your actions and begins to heavily debate whether he should give into his desires or not.

The internal conflict lasts about two seconds before he turns to his side—placing his free hand on the small of your back and pulling you into his chest, leaving a small pocket of space in between your two bodies.

Unknowingly, you close the gap almost immediately—nestling your head into the crook of his neck as your arm that was lazily slung over his torso starts to tighten its hold around his body.

His arm slings over your unconscious form, his hands making his way to your back as he basks in the foreign feeling, being this close in proximity to you. It was different. Yet it almost felt like it was where he belonged. And he was scared because he didn’t want it to end.

While gently placing his chin on the top of your head, he begins to stroke your hair as fatigue starts to wash over him as well. “Things will make sense soon Y/N, I swear.”

He retracts, craning his neck in an attempt to see your sleeping form. His attempt proves to be futile when an indecipherable groan leaves your lips—brows knitting slightly and lips curling downward from the sudden lack of warmth.

His soft laughter fills the room as he obliges—carefully pressing a small kiss to your forehead before reverting back to his original position.

“For now, just know that I love you too.”

The intolerable throbbing sensation in your temples caused you to stir in your sleep.

The only events you could recall from last night was being at Jimin’s apartment, playing that stupid card game, and downing the most soju you’ve ever had in one sitting.

It only occurs to you that you’re wrapped in someone’s arms when you open your eyes and the only thing in your periphery is a firm chest, steadily heaving each time they take a breath.

Your legs were messily entangled with theirs—arms slung around each other’s torsos as you felt a strange yet dense weight on the top of your head.

Carefully, you try to pry yourself from their grasp albeit your haphazard state of mind. You pull back ever so slightly, making sure not to wake them up in the process, discovering that the excess weight was actually their chin that had been resting on top of your head. Their fingers were still twined in your hair as you pulled back, making you freeze in your spot. Curious, you tilt your head, peering upwards and catching a glimpse of their face.

The boy is undoubtedly still asleep. Eyes shut and ample lips slightly parted. Your timid movement, to your luck, which hadn’t phased him in the slightest, as he was unperceptive and nearly immobile at this point.

If it weren't for your abhorrent headache and the even more abhorrent symptoms that had rooted from your hangover, it would be an understatement to say that you would be freaking out right about now. In reality,

You'd be in a complete state of manic.

Because of the fact that your body was paying for the despicable amount of alcohol you had decided to consume the night before, an influx of any intense emotion would cause your body to exacerbate itself even more. And the last thing you needed was to puke all over the poor guy after sleeping together for the first time.

While you were physically experiencing withdrawals, your mind felt slightly inebriated nonetheless. You weren't quite sure if it was from last night's affluence of liquor or the way everything's starting to come back to you. And the longer your eyes linger on the boy's face, the clearer everything starts to become. From the foolish banter to your childish outbursts leading up to your intoxicated yet conscientious confession.

You left your heart all out for him to witness last night, and now the only thing you could do is wait for a response.

Taking a deep sigh, you retreat back to his body—deciding not to ponder any longer on the matter and wait until you had felt physically capable of doing so.

Steaming hot streams of water splash against his back. He stands under the shower head while massaging soap into his hair, replaying the events that had happened last night on loop.

The words that left your mouth were engraved into his mind as they involuntarily kept replaying over and over again—particularly your inebriated confession, which kept garnering the same reaction of both hope and frustration within him.

The solution should be simple. In reality it is, yet he still felt so internally scattered.

“—he doesn’t see me in that light nor will he ever...”

That was the singular line that he just couldn’t wrap his head around. There was never a moment where he would hesitate to drop everything he was doing to be there for you and make sure you were okay.

Yes, he knew that you two were best friends and that it was natural. But what best friend drives across town at 2am because you had the stomach flu and your parents were out of town. Keep in mind it was his mom’s birthday that day.

What best friend ditches their prom date when yours had stood you up. Or coax the drama teacher into giving you the lead in the school play because he saw the ways your eyes glimmered when you saw the words ‘High School Musical’. And damn, weren’t you justthe greatest Gabriella he’s ever seen.

Little did you know that in reality, he always wanted you to be the Gabriella to his Troy, and not Chad. Yet you seemed to have believed the latter all along.

But in the end, what the hell kind of best friend remains oblivious to the fact that for years, past exes have consistently broken up with him for the same reason.

“Your heart belongs to someone else.”

Or alternatively,

“I’m not the right person for you.”

Straight A’s don’t mean shit when no teacher has ever taught him how to realize that he was irrevocably in love with his best friend, and that she had always, almost candidly, felt the same way.

He shuts his eyes tightly, hands aggressively running through his soaked hair as he comes to a conclusion.

Being strangers could never be an option. Being friends, or moreso, best friends was fine. But that’s it. It was just fine. It was normalcy. It has been for years.

And that just wasn’t going to cut it for him anymore.

Your arm traces along the fabric of the bedsheets, alerting you that there was a void of space and lack of warmth from the other side of the bed. Your eyes spring open to see that there was no one laying beside you.

A long yawn escapes your lips as you stretch your limbs, body sprawling all over the bed before selfishly tugging the sheets all to yourself.

Soft hissing from which you assume was coming from his shower was confirmed to be true when your eyes spot the closed bathroom door and the small beam of light that was emitting from it.

A small, folded piece of paper that was taking up the space of where his head was resting was where your eyes shift to next.

y/n <3

You knit your brows together, knowing that it was most likely put there strategically rather than a piece of trash that had slipped out of his pocket.

It was addressed to you after all and so you grab it while making a futile attempt to rub the sleep out of your eyes. Your throbbing headache and churning insides had significantly died down. Regardless of your recovery time you internally make a promise to yourself to never get this wasted ever again. The chances of you sticking to it? Highly debatable considering the current situation you’re in.

Blinking rapidly, you finally are able to decipher whatever is written onto the paper. And it says:

hi y/n, i can already tell by the looks that you’re giving me that you already despise this game and im sorry. all i wanna say is that by the time you read this, i hope that we remain close as ever even though what i plan on saying tonight could obliterate all of that. i wanted to play this game bc i know we’re both hiding stuff from each other and it’s about time we get it out. at least for me. whatever happens, i love you. always will.

- chim :)

EDIT: for fuck’s sake y/n i’m FUCKING IN LOVE WITH YOU TOO I WAS SUPPOSED TO CONFESS TO U FIRST LOSER NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND T-T

“Finally awake?” You hear a familiar voice call out. He walks out of the bathroom, fully clothed (to your dismay) while drying his hair with a towel, eyes immediately softening as they connect with yours.

You swallow down your nerves, “Yeah, I’ve been.”

He walks over to the edge of the bed, eyes shifting to the piece of paper in your hand before reverting his focus back to your face, “What are you reading there?”

“I don’t know,” you huff, feigning ignorance, “why don’t you tell me.”

A soft chortle leaves his lips as he throws the towel to the side, smiling as wide as ever as he jumps onto the vacant spot on his bed right next to you.

Propping himself up, he sits against the headboard, letting out a content sigh before looking down at you once more. “Come here.” He says, reaching his arms out in hopes that you’d fill the idle gap.

And you do, shaking the sheets off of your body as you place yourself in his arms, freshly revelling in the comfort. You wrap your arms snugly around his waist, letting your head rest on his chest while he clutches onto you tightly.

“I’m sorry for pushing the subject so hard onto you last night.” He starts off with, “I guess I just never fathomed the fact that you could return the feeling, and I was too stubborn to even admit it to you in the first place.” He expresses while stroking your back, “I didn’t mean to confront you so harshly, it’s unlike me, and I’m really sorry about it Y/N.”

“Do you think I’m mad about that Jimin?” You inquire, just barely above a whisper.

He pulls back slightly, peering down at you, “Are you?”

“Of course not. I should be the one apologizing anyways for being even more stubborn and resorting to such childish ways.” You disclose whilst mentally beating yourself up.

“Hey, there’s no use in beating ourselves up over it. Look where we are now.”

“Where exactly are we Jimin?” You inquire timidly, head still resting on his chest.

His fingers brush over the base of your chin, gently tilting your head up until your eyes found his.

“Y/N, it’s honestly hard for me to formulate the words but all I know is that I think I’m in love with you. And I think I have been for a long time, no scratch that, I have been for a long time,” he says all in one breath, making you smile at how high-strung he was acting.

The grin remains plastered onto your face, “I’m not drunk still right because did I just hear you say that you’ve been in love with me?”

“Y/N…” he whines, jutting out his bottom lip as he drags out the last syllable of your name.

You can’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Go on please.”

He bites his lip, “I honestly had a whole speech prepared in the shower but I forgot all of it.”

“It’s alright, I barely remember half the stuff I spewed out last night,” you chortle.

He chuckles, “Well, if you were wondering, you’re cute as fuck when you’re piss drunk.”

The compliment makes your breath hitch in your throat—your heart starting to pick up speed dangerously quick.

A few seconds pass, allowing you to slightly gain back some of your composure, “Why did you um– I mean– when do you think you fell in love with me?” You stutter.

“I was actually trying to figure that out too,” he starts, “in the shower. Well, this is going to sound dumb,” he admits, sharply exhaling out of his nose, “But do you remember when we went on a field trip to that amusement park in 8th grade? Around halloween time.”

“I think so… but what about it?”

He nods. “I still remember that night so vividly for some reason,” he pauses, collecting his thoughts, “There were haunted houses all over the park. And they were all different themes. And I think the first one we went into together was—”

“The clown one.” You deadpan.

“Yeah!” He beams, laughing at the way you shudder after your words, “Anyways, you were walking behind me with your hands on my shoulders, but you had a razor grip and I thought my arms were going to fall off, so I made you walk next to me instead. We had our arms interlocked and you were gripping onto me so closely and you had your head buried in my shoulder the whole time.” He explains, the smile never ceasing to leave his lips.

You don’t take his eyes off of him—smiling sweetly as he explains the retrospective moment that you never knew had held so much significance to him.

“All of a sudden, you grabbed my hand, and honestly, I think that was the scariest part of the whole experience,” he admits, chuckling softly.

“But then I intertwined fingers with you. And I liked it. Thinking about it now, I probably loved it. It felt almost borderline euphoric. Like as if I was riding a high, and when we detached hands, it felt like there was just something missing. And I guess I never really put the pieces together because it just became a normal thing after that. And when our skinship kept evolving from there, I just kept dismissing it over and over again. Like as if that feeling was a normal thing to happen between friends, because I genuinely thought it was. Yeah, I think that’s the moment I pretty much fell in love with you.” He finishes, giving you a close-mouthed smile while he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Astounded was an understatement. You couldn’t believe that you both had been suppressing these feelings for so long. Yet somehow, this whole confession didn’t seem out of place or time, it was as if everything that had happened beforehand had led up to this very moment.

“Wow, Jimin I– I don’t know what to say.” You reply.

He shakes his head. “You don’t have to say anything Y/N. I’m sorry for making you wait for so long, after all.”

You interject, “Please don’t say sorry, I think we were definitely both in the wrong here.”

He smiles, except this time his eyes crinkle up all the way, “Alright, but can you at least let me make it up to you?”

“I’m listening.” You jokingly reply.

“Let’s go on a date,” he declares brazenly, “but tonight, after we’ve recovered from our hangovers and what not.”

The corners of your lips upturn so high that your cheekbones sting, “Jimin, I’d love to–”

“Ah, wait! I’m not done.” He cuts you off, head inching forward, leaning in so close that you could feel his breath tickle your ear and the heat rushing up to your cheeks.

“And at the very end of the night, I’ll make certain that you won’t be able to walk normally by tomorrow.” He whispers into your ear— voice low and full of lust.

Shivers run through your body as it feels like all the wind had just gotten knocked out of you. Yeah, this was definitely worth the wait.

MASTERLIST ; SEQUEL

653 notes · View notes

destiniesfic · 4 years

Photo

132 Hours, Chapter 11

“Don’t speak for me, Duarte,” Cardan says.

“Don’t boss me around.”

Read chapter 11 on AO3 or read below:

“But, just, if I had the choice,” I say, “I would rather be apart from society.”

We’ve gone around and around a few different points by now. The latest one is the Ghost reminding me that, since betas are one in a thousand, there are only three hundred thousand in the United States, which is less than the population of Wyoming, and I don’t know anyone from Wyoming. They can and do seek each other out, but in a lot of ways, chemical and social, they’re separated from everyone else.

“Would you?” asks the Ghost.

“Well…” I trail off, thinking of the Bomb and the Roach and how they, very possibly, endured de-designation one way or another. I don’t think that’s something I want for myself, not seriously. Sure, I could do without all the complications of heat, but would I like to go through life with dulled senses, knowing most of the population was experiencing something I never would?

The problem isn’t really that I hate being an omega, it’s that I spent my whole life watching alphas, surviving alphas. Wishing I had what they had.

I look at Cardan, who’s been preoccupied with picking at dirt under his fingernails this entire time. He wears a mask of boredom. I know he’s listening, though. He’s good at playing dumb.

“I want to be like them,” I hear myself say. “No, I want to be better than them. That’s all. That’s what it is. And how am I supposed to be better when I’m—” I gesture at myself. I know I look better now than I did before, but I am far from my peak.

Regarding me steadily, the Ghost says, “There’s power in what you are right now, you know. There’s power in driving people crazy for you. A well-placed omega can ruin a political negotiation, a business merger, a marriage. Start wars.”

“Helen of Troy,” I interject. We all know how that went. “That’s soft power. But I don’t want—want…”

I shiver in my chair and hug my arms to my chest. Cardan’s voice is dark and low when he says, “I don’t think she’s up for this discussion.”

The Ghost gives him an odd look, and I say, “No, I’m fine. It’s fine.” I quash down panic; the meds shouldn’t be wearing off this soon, but there’s nothing I can do about it. “I don’t want soft power. I want to be taken seriously.”

“Well, you got us to take you pretty seriously,” the Ghost replies. “Cardan takes you seriously.”

I snort. “No, he doesn’t.”

“Don’t speak for me, Duarte,” Cardan says.

“Don’t boss me around.”

“I think that when you get to college, or at least out into the real world, you’ll find it’s very different,” the Ghost continues.

“I live in the real world,” I retort.

“No, you live in a bubble. A rich person bubble. When there aren’t as many expectations—when there are just normal people—alphas and omegas don’t have as much trouble with each other.”

I press my lips together so I can’t remind him that my mom married an alpha and it didn’t exactly end well. “But systems of oppression still exist. How many omega presidents have we had?”

The Ghost holds up a hand. “We’ve been over this. I’m not saying they don’t.” He pauses. “It wasn’t a kind thing Madoc did, sending you to Insmire.”

I blink at him. “How did you know—”

“Well, we did have to do our research on you.” He presses his lips together. “Cardan said you went to school together.”

“Oh, right.” I feel foolish, and also defensive. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Cardan pick up his head. “Well, Madoc isn’t kind. I mean, he can be, but—he isn’t.”

“No,” the Ghost agrees. “If he was kind, he would have sent you to the best multi-designation or omega prep school there was. But he didn’t let you have it easy. From what I know of him, he wanted to teach you to fight, on all fronts. And from where I’m sitting, it worked. I bet your sister isn’t a pushover either. Your twin?”

I almost laugh, thinking about Taryn fistfighting anyone. But I guess we did both learn to lie pretty well. I shrug my shoulders.

“You’ve had the worst of it in high school with entitled rich kids. The real world is more balanced, and you’re more than ready for it.” He pauses. “And there is one more thing, but I don’t think you’ll appreciate me saying it.”

“Go on.”

“Mating.”

Cardan makes a choked sound.

“I don’t mean sex,” the Ghost says, with a glance at him. “I mean finding a mate. It’s something I’ve thought about, as someone who can’t have it. Sure, betas get to fall in love like everyone else, but we don’t get to have that… connection. That belonging.”

Neither Cardan nor I speak for a moment. We are both too busy looking at the ground. “It’s a lot of pressure,” I say slowly. “What if you pick the wrong person? How do you know?”

“You might.” The Ghost sits back in his chair, seeming to retreat back into himself. I have the feeling this is the most he’s spoken in one go for a long time. Then he says, “But what if you pick the right one?”

I open my mouth to reply when I am hit by another full-body shiver, and then my cramps return with a vengeance. I whimper and wrap my arms around my abdomen. “Ow.”

“She’s getting worse.” It’s Cardan who says it. He sounds newly panicked. “You have to help her. I can’t do it.”

The Ghost raises his eyebrows. “It’s okay for me to help her now?”

“Yeah, well, you were doing alright, keeping her distracted, so I guess you’re ready for more responsibility.”

I blink up at the Ghost, who’s already standing from his chair. “You were distracting me? How long has it been?”

“A good couple of hours. You like to argue.” He helps me out of my seat. “He’s not as stupid as he looks, is he?”

“No,” I say through gritted teeth. “No, he isn’t.” Standing takes most of my concentration, but I look back over my shoulder at Cardan, who’s rigid like he’s grown roots. His hands have a white-knuckled grip on the side of the chair. He nods at me, and I nod back at him and let the Ghost lead me away.

The door to our cell-room had been left open while we were talking around the table, so it’s no longer as stuffy. I let out a groan of relief when I sink down onto the mattress. My gross, terrible mattress. My itchy blankets. I am so happy to be back in a visceral way that I don’t quite understand. Because it’s my “nest,” I guess. I want to wrap myself up in the blankets and curl up in a little ball, but the Ghost is still standing here.

“We have to lock Cardan in with you at night,” he says quietly. He sounds apologetic. “Especially if it’s only me on watch. There won’t always be eyes on him.”

I shrug. “He hates me. I’ll be fine.”

The Ghost’s mouth presses into a thin line.

“Oh, what?” I scoff. “You’re taking your eyes off him right now.”

“Yeah, because I can feel his eyes boring holes in my shirt.”

I snicker. I have decided that as far as people who’ve shot me go, the Ghost really isn’t so bad. “Hey,” I begin, wincing through another cramp, determined to keep distracting myself. “Why are you doing this? The Bomb said she’s sticking with whoever you work for because she owes them. Same for you?”

“No,” he says flatly. “I’m too far in to get out.”

“That can’t be true. I mean, if you go to the police, bargain for immunity in exchange for testimony…”

He gives me a dour look that says I’m being incredibly naive. “Ask me whose house this was.”

I blink at him, wondering if the connection should be obvious and the fever is slowing down my brain. “Whose house… was it?”

“It was being built as a weekend home for someone’s mistress. It was never finished.”

“Why? What happened to her?”

He looks me over, withdrawing further into himself. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll get you more medicine. You should rest. The second half is going to be harder than the first.”

“It is?” I ask, my voice sounding small and pathetic, but he has already left.

---

I don’t remember much about the next twenty-four hours. Just flashes, impressions, snippets of conversation. People are in and out of the room, making sure my water bottle is full, replacing it if it isn’t, giving me pills, for all the good they do. At first it’s the Ghost, but eventually it’s the Bomb, which means she’s come back. My ears, straining to pick out Cardan’s voice through the closed door, hear the Roach’s laugh, so he’s returned too.

It’s a bad day. It doesn’t take me long to sweat right through my dress, and it takes even less time for my shorts to soak through. The medicine can’t keep my temperature in check anymore, only drive it down to a balmy one hundred. I am miserable, and I am bored. There is nothing for me to do but stare at the wall, and even if there were, I probably couldn’t focus on it. My head feels like it’s being weighed down by a bag of rocks. The only thing that seems fully awake and alive is my libido, spiky and insistent. I didn’t know it was possible to feel this sick and this aroused. Masturbation doesn’t help. Nothing helps.

I am aware of Cardan coming back into the room, hours later. I am aware of his footsteps on the floor, the sound of him sitting heavily on the floor. I get a fresh waft of lavender; he showered again before coming in. Even though I had been dozing and wish again to be unconscious, I do pick up my head to look at him.

“Hi,” I say.

He raises one hand in greeting. “Hey.” He looks less like himself than ever, pale and drawn and wilting, and his brows are drawn. But he’s still handsome. Even the paleness benefits him, setting off his dark hair. Like a vampire. I have the urge to press my mouth to the column of his neck again.

Instead, I ask, “What’s wrong?”

“Aside from everything?” Cardan sighs. “I don’t know. The Bomb and the Roach came back, but something is weird. They wouldn’t talk about it in front of me.”

“Oh,” I say. That should mean something to me, but it doesn’t right now. I can’t fit the pieces together.

He sighs again, a longer sigh this time. “And I’m feeling like a pretty shitty alpha,” he says.

“Why?” I ask, drawing my knees in tighter to my chest. “Because you haven’t boned me yet?”

Another strangled noise escapes him. I’m getting used to those little squawks. “One, never say ‘boned’ again. And two, no.” He sounds sullen. He rakes his hand through his hair. “Because I’m not taking care of you.”

My brain short-circuits. “What?”

“I talked to the Roach about it.” He pauses. “I mean… if we were paired up, if we were doing this on purpose, it should be me. I should be helping you. Instead I have to let other people do it.”

“But we’re not paired up, and that is taking care of me. In these circumstances…”

I trail off, and he shrugs. “Yeah, I guess.”

“It sucks,” I say, as if agreeing with him. “And it’s—I’m just scared.”

He tsks, tossing his hair out of his face. “Nothing scares you.”

I pull the blankets tighter around my shoulders. “That’s not true. I’m scared all the time. It’s why I’m so angry at everything, everyone. At myself.”

Cardan is quiet for a moment, then says, “I guess I get that.”

I wonder if he does. There is a lot I still don’t know about Cardan. “If the last year has shown me anything, it’s that I can’t control anybody else’s behavior. Locke. Taryn. Valerian.” I shift. “Just me. It’s just me. I’m the only thing in my control.”

He smiles, weakly. “Slow down, Hamilton.”

“It’s Burr. And that’s not the lyric.”

“Whatever. Nerd.”

My own smile is transient. “Anyway, now I’m not even in my control. Now I have to be afraid of myself. So that… it just sucks.”

“Yeah.” After another stretch of silence, Cardan asks, “Are you afraid of me?”

I don’t answer him right away. Because the answer, of course, is yes. Yes, I have been afraid of him for such a long time. Yes, I am afraid of what he represents, the power and the system set against me. Yes, I am afraid of the way he affects me, the things I want to do, the vulnerability in me.

But the answer, in some strange way, as we have languished in our cell, has also become no.

“I,” I begin, but then there is another urgent cramp, another painful jolt of arousal on its heels, and I groan. “Oh, god.”

Cardan’s eyes widen in alarm. “You don’t have to answer that,” he says quickly. “Just… just relax. Just chill. I’ll stay over here.”

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” I manage through gritted teeth, clutching my stomach. It is, of course, worse.

Trying to get comfortable, I toss and turn for ages, but I must fall asleep through the pain because the next thing I know, Cardan is gone again, and I am holding a scrap of soft cloth in my arms. On instinct, I bring it to my nose. It smells like Cardan, that musky smell he’s taken on in the last couple of days. Warmth bursts in my chests like a firework. It’s his shirt. He left his shirt with me. What is he wearing now?

It doesn’t matter. I don’t care. I nuzzle the fabric. It is not exactly soft, a little grimy from lack of washing, but saturated with his scent. I am amazed at how my brain calms just from this one, simple thing. My horniness problem is not solved, though, so I slide my hand into my shorts to take care of it, my face still pressed to Cardan’s shirt. It muffles my cries when I come, but I’m honestly too far gone to care if I am heard. After I am finished, I wriggle out of my dress, pull the shirt over my head, and promptly fall back asleep.

I doze fitfully. Someone comes to replace the water bottle, which briefly wakes me long enough that I roll around for a few minutes before I’m out again. I don’t mind that the mattress is lumpy or that the blankets scratch my skin; whenever something begins to bother me too much, I stick my nose in the collar of Cardan’s shirt and breathe in, which is usually enough to soothe me.

I’m not sure whether I’m dreaming or awake when I feel someone press the bottle to my lips and say, “Drink, Jude.” It sounds like the Roach, or maybe Madoc. I open my mouth and manage a couple of swallows of water before putting my head back down and dragging the blankets up over my shoulders.

“Is she still asleep?” I hear Cardan ask. His voice is hushed. The smell of him doesn’t bother me so much now that I have his shirt, but I do scent him and groan softly, pressing my face into the pillow.

“Mostly,” says probably-the-Roach.

There’s a pause, then Cardan asks, “Can I do it?”

“You shouldn’t.”

“I know, but I want to help.” Something shuffles, like he’s kicked at the floor. “She’s only like this because of me.”

The Roach sighs, then says, “All right. Come over, but be careful.”

I hear Cardan’s footsteps on the floor, and then a hand pushes some of my hair off of my sweaty face, dragging down to skim my cheek. I lean into his hand. It feels so good to be touched.

“Jude, hey,” he says quietly. “Can you pick your head up a little higher for me?”

There’s something beneath his voice, a dark undertow that pulls me down. I find that I want to do what he says, which isn’t a remotely comforting thought. But I pick up my head, and he keeps one hand against my jaw as he tips the jug against my mouth. A little water trickles down my neck, wetting the shirt he lent me, but I swallow most of it down.

“That’s good.” He takes the jug away and sets it back down on the floor. I can hear the strain in his words, like he’s fighting with himself. “Really good.”

His hand finds my hair again, and I would do anything for him to just keep running his fingers through it, but then the Roach says, “I think that’s enough.”

Cardan disentangles his fingers from my hair and stands; I hear him step back. “It’s just so weird,” he says. “It’s weird to see her like this. She hates—she never asks for help. I’ve never seen her vulnerable.”

“Well, her body’s treating it like a sickness,” the Roach says. “But we’re looking out for her. Another, what, day or so? Less than a day? And she should be free and clear. And hopefully by then this will all be over and we can let you guys out.”

“Yeah.” There’s a pause, and then, “Thanks.”

The Roach chuckles. “Don’t thank me, kid. We kidnapped you.”

“I know, but.” Cardan hesitates. “Is it weird that in some ways I’d rather be here than home?”

“Pretty weird, yeah.”

“Yeah.” Then, lowering his voice to a whisper, he asks, “Jude?”

I say nothing, do nothing. I want to keep eavesdropping. He wouldn’t be saying half of this if he thought I was awake. So I keep my breathing low and even, and let him say what he wants.

But he says nothing, and for a second I think he’s getting ready to leave me alone again. Then I hear him take a step—toward me—and his hand is briefly back in my hair. I feel warm lips against my forehead, soft and fleeting like the brush of a butterfly’s wings. I have to fight my every instinct not to lean up into the kiss and give myself away, but then his hand and lips are both gone. I hear the quick retreat of his footsteps, the closing of the door.

“It’s not fair,” I whisper to the empty cell. “You can’t just leave me with that.”

But he can, and he did, because he assumed I was asleep. He left me with the memory of a forehead kiss, with a whispered conversation to dissect, and a tingling feeling throughout my entire body.

“I hate you so much,” I say, curling closer around his shirt. There is no answer but my erratic heartbeat, drumming out a truth I am almost, but not quite, ready to hear.

#jurdan #judecardan #jude x cardan #jurdan fanfic #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #tfota #the folk of the air #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #mine: fic #fic: 132 hours

68 notes · View notes

hiimbloblos · 3 years

Text

I'll get you later

5.8k words || death tw || blood tw || things may get a bit more graphic than intended

Bloop! Special thanks to @12u3ie and @mleemwyvern on HCHC discord (btw you should totally join because there are so many talented and supportive people) for beta-reading! Fume was inspired by this Tango/EvilXisuma Fusion designed by @homeskllet

All my works are here 💜✨

Headcanons/ideas used:

Tango has mechanical eyes, which are powered by redstone and his sight worsens if not powered for long enough. Not plot-relevant, I just think it's cool

Evil X can't respawn by himself. He is not a normal player, but an-evil-clone-who-turned-out-to-be-good-in-the-end-etc. It's just harder for him to get pulled out of the death void.

Also yes in case of death you are sent to the void and you are given an energy boost so you can rush back alive. The atmosphere is dead and cold in there, so hermits don't really stay for a long time. It's easy for players to get out the void, as if you simply press a button ;).

In-game chat = communicators

Hermits still can skip the night via 'Multiplayer sleep'. But only the ones who were in bed during that time get a full rest, while hermits who weren't in bed get only half the energy, which is enough to get to bed next night. '*hermit_name* went to sleep.' messages still show up.

Offline = not connected to in-game chat; online = connected to in-game chat.

There are SO MANY POSSIBILITIES for this fusion trope!! You can have it all! Angsty bits with Tango realising that EX is not, in fact, okay after being banned by Xisuma???? YOU CAN HAVE THAT. Derpy and hilarious bits because it's Tango and EX we're talking about?????? WHY NOT!!? This one is a more of a comedic fic, so I hope u like

Upd a few days later: no nope it's the first one it's angsty bits oh god oh fuck-- Also I got carried away and it's not a Fume-exclusive story. Whoops :p

— You gotta be kidding me. Tell me you're kidding me. — EX looked away from the madman, fixing his helmet in its place.

— I am no-o-ot! — Tango swung his hand in the air, mocking EX with his voice changer, — 'Oh look, I am Evil X, I am an evil human, I am doing evil things, but too scared to help Tango with his evil killificators, aargh!'

— FINE, fine! You should be grateful that I'm good now, — EX jokingly pushed Tango's shoulder, making him giggle with excitement. This was... Promising and concerning at the same time. Who knows what's going on in the brain of that red-eyed madman.

— Behold! A fusing and unfusing (I hope) machine, my uh... Fusionificator! — Tango grabbed EX's shoulder and waited, as the confused man cautiously looked over the whole mechanism, where gears stopped in place and liquids calmly bubbled in flasks and tubes. The color was mainly... Red.

— Is that blood? — EX pointed at the tubes and was met with a jokingly judging glare of mechanical eyes.

— No, I'm not that crazy, — he exhaled in amusement, — That's potions and stuff, I learned a few tricks and bits from Stress, that's it. But come to think of it, blood would look cool, — Tango laughed at how even the helmet couldn't hide EX's shocked face.

— You are not making it any better, you know that, you mad scientist? — EX brushed off the hand from his shoulder and crossed his arms, — Why do you need my help anyway? Want me to become a test subject? You should've asked one of your pals, they would be perfect for it, — it's not like EX didn't already agree to help, but he couldn't help but add a few prickly comments.

— You were closer AND online, — Tango shrugged, but then pointed at the armoured chestplate with a cheeky grin, — Also you are not considered to be an entity of its own, aren't you? Quite an interesting bud!

— What makes me so--

— Just get in already! — EX got pushed into the big tube. Tango got on the other side and pushed a few buttons, audibly voicing each push with 'beep's and 'boop's. Then, he menacingly grabbed the big lever, which probably shouldn't have been this oversized, — You ready?

— Probably not?!--

— Too bad! — Tango swiftly pushed the lever and jumped inside the other tube. Flasks started bubbling more aggressively and gears started to creak in movement.

— Is it too late to tell you that I'm concerned about the fact that you called this machine a 'Killificator' earlier? — EX shouted over the sound of whirling mechanisms and liquids.

— Yes! But you can just respawn if something goes wrong, can't you?!

— I will not be able to respawn, Tango! — a shaking voice with a panicky tone reached blonde's ears, — You know I'm not like--

— You what--?!

Lots of memories flooded the mind. They were both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. The whole body was a bit tingly, a feeling of uncertainty crawling through.

A man has stepped out of the tube in the middle, tripping on his own legs and almost falling on the floor. He looked at himself. Black-red costume, massive boots. Everything looked a lot... Shorter. Was he taller or was it the boots?..

— I... I think it worked. I'm not... Not dead, — he looked around and didn't find anyone in the other two tubes. As well, he didn't find any reflective surface to look at his appearance. Tango lived near an ocean, didn't he? That still doesn't excuse him from not having a proper mirror...

— Well would you look at that! — the reflection in the water showed a long-haired human with a very expressive LED helmet. It didn't change his voice, though, so it wasn't as intimidating. An attempt to take the helmet off resulted in discovery of long red nails. There wasn't anything special about them... Except for the fact that they were much, much tougher than simple human nails. The hair had a beautiful gradient from almost white to dark yellow with hair tips burnt a bit. The helmet was off and the man could finally look at himself, — I'm so fabulous... I'm so fabulous!! Look at these golden locks and these tough stylish armoured boots! You can kick someone into another universe with boots like that! Spikes! — he touched the tips to check if they were sharp, — Ouch! Stabby things! Do you see that, Tango?-- I mean EX-- I mean... — a lost stare scratched around the surroundings, looking for... something. Maybe an answer, maybe-- — We are now... I am now someone new...

— Let's see... — Fusion put the helmet back on and looked back at the shaky reflection in the water. Red LEDs took a second to turn on. The helmet looked at itself through the reflection. Blinked a few times. Brows appeared and wiggled a bit, then suddenly disappeared, — It's fantastic... Sad?.. — red tears showed up on the screen, falling under the mask, — Angry! — red eyes broke into fire, burning wildly, — Happy! — Fusion giggled and helmet showed excited eyes with black stars in them, — Very happy! — Hair started smouldering and fumes rose up to the skies, — What the!?-- — Fusion panicked, took off the helmet and, following the very first thought that came to mind, dumped his head in the water. That seemed to put off the smoking hair. What was that with all those... Fumes? Was it because he got too excited? Fumes, huh...

— Fume! — the answer came really quick, — Our-- My name is now Fume! — he stood up and looked back at Toon Towers. His hair was a wet mess, got burnt a bit, but he was pretty happy with the discovery of his new awesome name. Fume reflexively took out the communicator and checked the chat.

<Tango> X, can I grab EX from you?

<EvilXisuma> You can ask me directly, I'm not dependent on that derpball

<Xisuma> yeah sure

<Xisuma> he wasn't helpful anyways

<EvilXisuma> Speak for yourself

<Tango> meet me at the shopping district then

MumboJumbo went to bed. Sweet dreams

<Keralis1> Where's Bubbles when you need him?

<BDoubleO100> I'd let you know that beds don't work in the Nether!

Tango was killed by [Unintentional World Design]

EvilXisuma was killed by [Unintentional World Design]

<Xisuma> what are you doing!

<Xisuma> don't do that!

<cubfan135> UNintentional?? you can do that??

<MumboJumbo> I'm surprised that death message wasn't from Scar

<GoodTimeWithScar> hey!

BDoubleO100 left the chat

BDoubleO100 joined the chat

Xisuma whispers to you: Tango you at your base? is EX okay?

Fume was amused by those chat messages. Unintentional World Design sounded hilarious. Did Tango really push this world's code to its limits? But why is there a death message in the first place? Probably because communicators couldn't detect their owners… Fume started tapping on the communicator.

<EvilXisuma> yep

<Tango> yep

That was interesting. Why are the messages doubled? Wait a minute… Fuse checked his pockets, but didn't find another communicator. Did these communicators fuse? If so, why do they not detect Fume as a separate being? Is it because he wasn't registered?

<Xisuma> need any help?

<EvilXisuma> nope

<Tango> nope

<EvilXisuma> But you gotta see this!

<Tango> But you gotta see this!

<Xisuma> why are you writing the same messages...

<EvilXisuma> Keralis can I come to your base?

<Tango> Keralis can I come to your base?

<Keralis1> just don't destroy anything

<EvilXisuma> No promises!

<Tango> No promises!

Fume dropped the communicator inside one of the pockets and swaggered back to Toon Towers. He couldn't believe it worked. Will he be able to unfuse?... He didn't want to think about it right now.

— A bit dusty and forgotten, buut... — a blanket, covering something big, got gracefully thrown onto the concrete floor. The reveal was grand: a speedy motorcycle with shiny stickers and a few scratches was carefully laid onto its left side. Tango made it before creating Decked Out, mainly because he didn't know what else to do. He didn't really show or tell anyone about it, because there weren't any roads to roam around. But now, with Keralis's city almost built up, it would serve as a wonderful opportunity for Fume to introduce himself to the hermits, right?

— I can't see anyone, — Keralis was standing on one of the buildings, looking up at the skies, trying to find two flying figures. But there weren't any. In fact, there wasn't even a single distant sound of a rocket going off.

— Me too, — Xisuma sighed and checked his communicator. Nothing. He walked to the edge of the building, hands behind his back, steps strict and straight. He yawned and looked down to the streets. After HCCBS happened, Cleo has been filling an empty city with armour stands, which made it look really nice and lively. You could tell that it was Cleo's work: the overall view looked lively and calm, but mini armour stands were falling and getting eaten here and there.

A sudden loud noise took off-guard people on the roof. It wasn't nearly as close to the sound of a rocket. It was more... rough; more violent.

— What was that? — Keralis asked, hoping Xisuma would know. Bee armour just shrugged and started to search the roads.

— There! — he pointed down to a roaming motorcycle, which slowed down to find someone except... creepy armour stands. Xisuma sent off a rocket to show his location and in a few moments the motorcycle stopped under the building. A person jumped off the vehicle and, with a cracking sound of rockets, flew up from the ground.

— Hi! — the person swiftly jumped on top of the roof and waved his hand, unsure of what to say, — It's uhh... Me, Fume! Tango built a machine that can fuse stuff together and decided to test it with EX!

— Wot?! — Xisuma's accent somehow became more British, showing his astonishment.

— We fused! — Fume cheerfully raised his hands in the sky.

— So THAT was the unintentional world design?! — Xisuma opened the communicator on his left forearm to check something.

— I mean If you put it that way, then yes, it wasn't intended, — Fume caught Xisuma's concerned look and backed off, — But everything went fine, didn't it? Nobody died in the process! I don't think those death messages in the chat were... Actual deaths, you know?

— Well I can't see anyone in the void either, so... I guess that's fine? — X realised what he said and shook his head, – Wh- no, it's experimenting on humans, that's NOT fine! Tango what have you done?!

– First of all, my name is Fume, – he bowed down in a sort of joking clownish style to present himself. Xisuma sighed tiredly, but hearing how Keralis giggled a bit, he tried not to take this situation as serious anymore. Tango, despite being a bit crazy with his inventions, still knew what consequences may occur. Most of the time. Xisuma was hoping it was one of those times, – Second of all, I think Tango himself would explain the whole thing better, because my memories are a jumbled mess of bits and sticks from their brains, – Fusion stood still for a moment, actively searching for info in his head. His face lit up and Xisuma knew that he 'remembered' something, – Despite that, I feel like I know a little bit. Tango was experimenting with fusing things around his base. But then two bees somehow ended up in the fusion machine and Tango... and he... Hm, give me a minute to remember... there was one big bee and... ack!.. – Fume took off the helmet, put a hand on his head and rubbed his forehead, – Whatever he did makes my brain hurt. This feeling is... familiar, for some reason... Did Tango or EX have sudden headaches?

– I think neither of them did... – Keralis scratched his head, – Although Tango did complain that he had massive headaches, but those were the result of him not taking a break from his projects for a long time. He was just exhausted. I can't say anything about EX though... Shishwammy?

– I... – he stuttered for a second, as if debating whether he should or shouldn't tell them everything, – I uh... Yes, EX did, in fact, have sudden headaches, but I didn't ask him about them. Mainly because he probably wouldn't tell me the reason behind them, that stubborn rapscallion.

– I am still here and I can hear you just fine, X, – Fume crossed his arms on his chest and scoffed. That definitely hurt his feelings, even though he wasn't EX himself, – Maybe he would tell you if he could believe you after you-- ack!-- – he grabbed his head and tried to squeeze out the sudden pain. Xisuma flinched to offer help, but Fusion stopped him, – Don't-- Let's just change the subject so my brain won't hurt, shall we?

– I don't know if I can think of anything after that, – Keralis gently grabbed Fume's shoulder, noticing how he began to panic and his hair started to smoulder, – Are you sure you're okay? Y-your hair is--

– Yes-yep-totallyfine – Fusion flinched away from Keralis and tripped over the edge of the building, falling on his back.

– Uh- wait!-- – Keralis rushed to the edge, followed by Xisuma. A loud splat on the ground was followed by a double ding of communicators, – He'll respawn, right?

– Tango? Most definitely. Fume? No idea. EX? I'll have to grab him out of the death void manually, – Xisuma looked down and noticed a lost figure in a pool of quickly disappearing blood, – Is that Tango?

– It sure looks like it is... – Keralis looked at the forgotten helmet, then at Xisuma and they nodded to each other. They glided down one after another and were met by seriously confused Tango.

He was sitting on the ground, mind switching between flashing thoughts and blank spaces. When hermits landed near him, he couldn't hear them at first, white noise blocking any sounds. He tried to focus his eyes on something-- anything, but it felt like he forgot how his own eyes work.

– ...ango! – he could finally hear how Keralis called his name and sighed in relief as white noise was leaving his ears.

– I'm not deaf, don't scream at me, jeez! – Tango teased. While Keralis relaxed at the thought that his friend was his usual self, Xisuma kept fidgeting with Fume's helmet, worry leaking through dense bee armour. Tango looked around, – Where's EX?

– Tango, when you encountered fused bees, what did you do to them? – Xisuma looked at his communicator and started to frantically type something on the screen.

– Their buzzing was driving me insane, so my only logical solution was to-- ouch! – a phantom pain striked through his brain, but it wasn't as rough as when Tango was... Fume, if that makes sense, – I killed that giant buzzing bee and was about to continue working on the machine, but... Not only did the buzz not stop, it doubled! There were two bees buzzing around the machine, as if they had a beehi-- – Tango stopped himself. You could basically hear how his brain was connecting the dots to reveal the whole picture, – Remind me to kill Etho later.

– Will do! – cheerfully said Keralis, while Xisuma was still busy with his communicator, – But what happened next?

– Nothing much, I just killed the remaining bees. I uh... Sorry for killing bees? – Tango looked at the man in the bee armour, who just waved a 'That's fine, I don't really care right now', – About EX...

– What about him? – Xisuma was unusually quick to react. He used to wait and choose his words, but this reaction took off-guard even himself, so he cleared his throat as if nothing happened and continued typing, – I need to take him out of the void now, so if you have something to say, go ahead.

– Did you argue about anything before he left to the shopping district today? – Tango finally gained control of his mechanical eyes and focused them on Keralis, who took Fume's helmet from Xisuma so he could type on his communicator. Builder just shrugged and now two hermits were looking at the man in the bee armour.

– Maybe... – his voice was giving away his concern and worry, – What did he tell you?

– Nothing, really. It was just... When we were Fume, something about our-- uhh-- 'feelings' towards you was off. I know that he tried to destroy the server a couple of times, but in the end he turned out to be fine and you became buddies, didn't you? Yes, he's still a bit stubborn and you have some reason to dislike each other due to his past actions, although--

– Tango, why do you think he was absent for such a long time? – Xisuma tiredly sighed, – I... I didn't want to tell anyone about this, but I banished him into the void. I killed him and did not come back for him. He can't respawn by himself, he simply doesn't have enough, I don't know, 'force' like others do. Clones like EX and Helsknight can't respawn by themselves. I don't know why it functions like that, and, frankly, I was too much of a coward to try and change anything about it, – he rubbed his neck and looked away from hermits. It was... Quite a reveal, to say the least, – And yes, we did argue before you asked me to borrow him. He refused to sleep at night and it led to him being more annoying and... Argh! – he helplessly gestured around, – I just wanted to make his life better than what was the void... To make up for what I've done... I... – Xisuma looked back at two hermits, who had... complicated feelings towards his friend. He clenched his fists and forced a shaky sigh, – I hope that answers your question, Tango.

– And you said that I was a wrongen for experimenting with the fusion machine... – redstoner remembered the "I will not be able to respawn, Tango!", cried out with a shaking panic in his voice. He shuddered at the thought. That's why it hurt the brain to even think about dying. That's why EX was concerned about the 'Killificator' name and potions looking bloody red.

– You told us all that EX just decided to 'take a holiday'! That he 'wanted to take a break from destroying worlds'! Shishwammy, I don't think you have the right idea of a holiday! – Keralis held the helmet closer to himself, as if someone was trying to take it away from him. Xisuma wanted to say something, but got interrupted, – What are you waiting for?! Go and get him out of there! I can't believe you abandoned EX like that!

Void

Empty

Crippling

Doubting

Quiet

Well, too quiet

So quiet that you can hear your thoughts

It's terrifying

They are terrifying

EX knew that feeling far too well. At first, void gives a massive energy boost to help respawn, so the person would be fully ready to create and fight, or to retrieve lost items. That's how void worked for hermits. Not for clones like EX. It gave him energy, but seeing as he can't respawn and nobody is coming to get him, void started consuming his whole body with its vines, breaking the armour and slowly draining all the energy he had. It's slow, it's quiet, it's scary and it's not pleasant in the slightest. When there was no energy left, void just tossed him away, empty and emotionless. He could see dead hermits appear and respawn and no matter how hard he wanted to scream for help, he couldn't even whisper. His voice was completely gone and that made him feel even worse. A perfect victim for hungry depressing thoughts. They tore his soul apart as his tears streamed down his face, drowning him in his own helmet and leaking through the broken vizor.

That's how X retrieved him. Broken, empty, emotionless. Armour - cracked, reactions - none. EX remembers how he woke up one morning, whole body aching at the smallest of movements. Tired. Alone. He called, "X… Xisuma?", but only heard the sound of a closing door. There are blank spaces instead of memories of what happened before or after that.

He really wanted to help Xisuma with farms and buildings. It's not his fault that the latest farms are all about getting heads from creatures by beheading them. Every time a creature is killed, there's a chance its body won't disappear. That's when... Well, it's quite obvious what happens next, isn't it?

Vines grabbed EXs body, ready to steal his energy. He didn't resist, it was pointless. Soon it will cover him from head to toe, making him unable to move.

EX wasn't sure how much time had passed when he got banished for the first time, but it felt like an eternity. It... gave him some time to think. He remembered the day of his banishment as if it was just a few days ago, simply because that was his last memory of reality and... Xisuma.

– Thinkin' about destroying the wooorld~ – EX cheerfully joked for the eighth time of that day. Xisuma held his breath and clenched the axe in his hands. They went chopping trees, and EX wasn't being very cooperative. More of an annoyance that just so happened to offer his help. There was no denying that he was, in fact, helpful, because Xisuma alone probably wouldn't get as much wood this fast, but the annoying attitude of his evil self was getting on his nerves. Lack of sleep and only half the energy didn't help either, X was just more derpy, less focused and easily annoyed. Bdubs appeared online a few days ago, so Xisuma left his bed at home to have space for an additional stack of wood.

– Would you please stop it with your annoyance, – Xisuma tried to keep his cool, but was failing miserably, hands clenching on a sturdy wooden handle. He forced his eyes shut and slowly exhaled. It felt like if you touch him, he'd chop someone's head off instead of a tree. When he opened his eyes, EX was right in front of him, looking directly through the vizors.

– Nope! I'm bored, – EX straightened and yawned, – Destroying the world seems like a much more fun activity than chopping down the same tree over and over, – he reached to grab Xisuma's hand with the communicator on it to write a few commands, – I'll just play a bit and then we can continue--

EX got interrupted by a sudden push, forcing him to fall on his back. He looked up and saw Xisuma standing on top, hands holding an axe with a dead-hard grip.

– Go and play without me, I'll get you later, – EX froze in terror for a moment as Xisuma swiftly raised the axe up, gaining force. A loud scream tore apart the silence of the forest, followed by a sloppy sound of an axe breaking a skull.

– What's wrong, X? – Tango was still sitting on the ground, looking at the lost man in the bee armour, – If you want, I can get EX myself, – he took out his communicator.

– Don't!-- – Xisuma flinched away from his thoughts and started frantically placing his items into a shulkerbox, misplacing them out of nervousness, – I should be the one to free him, I should be--

– He will forgive you, – Keralis spoke up, still holding the helmet close to himself, – I know you feel like a traitor, but I'm sure he would just be happy to respawn and live.

Xisuma waited a bit and finally nodded. Keralis was probably right. Probably. X couldn't be sure. He placed the final item in the shulker, closed it and put it in the enderchest. He was still debating on what to say to EX, but was overall ready to spend some time in the cold void. X once again opened his communicator and wrote a /kill command.

– I uh… Thank you. I promise I won't be long. I'll probably respawn at my base and I can't take that helmet with me, so… Would you mind? – he pointed at the helmet and hermits nodded. Xisuma quickly exhaled and proceeded with the command. Sudden pain rushed through his body, killing him instantly.

– You think they'll be alright? – Tango finally stood up, leaning on the leftover shulkerbox. Keralis nodded a quick "I'm sure", helping his fellow hermit, who was somewhat surprised by something, – Aww man! I'm short again! Fume was a lot taller, and he had those massive shin-kicking boots and…

Xisuma was met by a freezing cold emptiness and was instantly given an energy boost. He searched around and, to no surprise, found what-- who he was looking for. A floating body, alone in the endless darkness of void, in the grasp of its life-draining vines. This view was… new to X. Last time he found his evil self, he was just floating mindlessly, not reacting to anything…

– EX! – Xisuma flew closer and waved his arm in front of the broken vizor, trying to get attention. Zero reaction genuinely scared him, – Noo, don't tell me you died here and I'll have to find you in a voider void. Please, react! – he took off the helmet and a few big blobs of tears floated up. He quickly grabbed EXs shoulders and checked his breath. A faint exhale sent shivers down his spine and he himself exhaled in relief.

He lifted up EX and rushed back alive, hoping it would work. It did: EX suddenly became heavier as gravity returned and X almost fell on his respawn bed. It was placed in a freshly built room inside the leaning sword tower. He laid down the human from his arms onto the said bed and checked the chat. EX still wasn't connected, good. That meant nobody would bother with unnecessary questions. Xisuma looked at the time: it was almost night. As much as it might've sped up the process, he decided that EX simply wouldn't be able to handle the wonders of this world's energy spreading. So, he did what he thought was the best choice: he disabled the whole thing.

<Xisuma> we may have a problem with sleeping this week

<Tango> only this week? sounds unreal

<Xisuma> nights can't be skipped and we will not be able to get the usual rest

<Keralis1> So you're saying that Bubbles is useless now?

<BDoubleO100> Very freakin funny!

<Tango> When is the competition for The Worst Sleeping Schedule? I want to know when to collect the main prize

Xisuma closed the communicator and looked back at the now sleeping human on the bed. He won't be able to walk for a while. And emote. And function as a normal person, in general. Time in the death void is slowed down just by a half, but in the long run it makes a huge difference. A second turns into two seconds, a day turns into two days, two years turn into four years. As if it wasn't enough already, EX was probably scared of Xisuma. Probably.

Almost two weeks later EX was still sleeping, sometimes mumbling something under his breath, and X decided to give him a little push. He turned on the nightskip and surprised a few hermits who were online. Not really caring about their reactions, as he can read them later, he sat down near EX's bed and placed his hands on the edge of the mattress, hoping for a change. Clock striked 6 AM sharp once someone went to sleep and the face of a sleeping man twitched in pain. He finally started moving, arms searching for something to grab, body squirming in place. X hesitantly offered his hand and got harshly grabbed by a pale palm, which instantly calmed down EX at the realization that it was a human hand and not something harmful. He stopped moving and relaxed, holding the hand tight and breathing without proper rhythm.

Xisuma gave this moment a good minute or two before carefully tucking out his hand. He didn't deserve this. Not after what he'd done. He… he needs to take good care of his… old pal. He was the reason why EX was absent. He was the reason why EX was stuck in the death void. "Not anymore. Never again." Xisuma took the bowl of slowly cooling cream-soup from the counter and walked up to the door, opening the door to leave.

– X… Xisuma? – shivers ran down his spine. He closed the door and looked back at the laying human. EX looked painfully upset with something. Maybe it was the lack of an answer, so Xisuma returned the soup to its place and sat down beside the bed.

– Yes, I'm here. Are you hungry?..

– Have you come to watch me suffer? – EX still had the energy to sting X with his prickly words, even though he was half-covered by vines and his limbs started to give out from soreness, – What was the point of reviving me?.. Doesn't matter. Leave me like you did back then.

– Back then, I wanted to get you out of here a few days later, just to teach you a lesson not to even think about destroying the world for once, but... days turned into months, Demise happened, new world happened and I--

– You forgot about me, didn't you, you derpball? – EX looked at his, in theory, 'less evil' self and rolled his eyes, – Just admit that you forgot about me and we'll move on.

– Not even for a second, – EX gulped. "Oh really now?" – I was afraid I'd kill you again. I just... I snapped at you for no reason other than being annoyed, and that is not how I should've reacted. Man, that's such a dumb excuse, but-- The more time passed, the more awful I felt about not getting you out and-- I-I didn't even know how to apologise and-- – Xisuma stopped himself from saying even more nonsense with a shaky inhale. Collected all the courage he had left, and... – I'm sorry. From the bottom of my heart. There is no deed in the world that would make the whole situation better, and I just hope you-- we can at least try and return to being... pals?

– ...you can't even imagine the things I was ready to do to anyone who would free me from this prison. I was ready for everything, and yet this... This is not what I was expecting from you, of all people. For the past... Eternity, I guess, all I could think of is the rage in your eyes right before you... you know... – void spreaded its vines further on EX's armour, covering his head.

Xisuma couldn't look at this anymore. He floated closer and offered his hand. EX just slowly blinked in agreement, unable to move his hands.

– I can't feel my legs. I'll fall on the ground, as a complete embarrassment that I am… – EX chuckled.

– And I am here to prevent that, – Xisuma hugged EX and closed his eyes, feeling how vines started to try and consume him, – Are you ready?

– I am.

– Just breathe. I'm here, – Xisuma held EX tight, not letting him fall. These were much better conditions than last time: EX was conscious and actually cooperated. X sat him down on the respawn bed, getting and placing a few wool blocks behind the bed for him to lean on, – How are you feeling?

– A lot better than what void was, – EX tried to move and lifted his shaking hand up to move the hair away from his face. Wait… – Where is my helmet?

– I think you left it on top of one of Keralis' buildings while you were Fume, – Xisuma opened his enderchest and placed a few shulkerboxes on the ground, getting his items back, – Which reminds me…

<Xisuma> Keralis, Tango, where are you?

<Tango> on our way! had to take the motorcycle out of the way ;)

<Zedaph> You have a motorcycle?!

<Tango> Made it out of boredom…

<Zedaph> What about the saddle I gifted you?!

<Tango> I would never use that saddle

<Zedaph> You don't appreciate my gifts, Tango :'(

<Xisuma> We await patiently!

– You know, now that we're here… I remember that I wanted to tell you something. I uh, I forgive you, – EX spoke up as an attempt to distract himself from leftover depressing thoughts. He caught Xisuma's grateful look and returned to trying to fiddle some sensitivity into his shaking arms, slightly smiling, – Say, how long was I out the first time you got me out of the void?

– Oh, at least two weeks. But it's because I turned off the nightskip so it wouldn't rush your awakening. But when I turned it on, you finally started moving and the first thing you did was to grab my hand in search of comfort. After that I fed you soup and basically took care of you…

– That's embarrassing.

– Not in the slightest! Any hermit would try to do the same thing, and I don't think that you are an exception.

– My memory of these moments is a total mess if I'm honest. Would you mind telling me what happened then?

– Of course! You mostly just slept. And I fed you sometimes. Mushroom stew. And rabbit stew. Whatever I was working with at the time. Oh, and your first attempts at walking were a bit wonky, but you had the spirit!

– Yeah, I think I regained proper consciousness after falling out of the bed… – EX scratched the back of his forehead and both of them chuckled. They still had a lot of things to address, but this day… They would remember this day as a new start.

~text rips off dramatically because… ~

Because I actually finished! Hurray! Thanks for reading! :D

If you have any thoughts, my askbox is always open with both anon/non-anon options! I would love to see feedback, it makes my day a 100% better :>

And, as always, Reblogs are better than Likes, but both are appreciated ^v^

#hermitcraft #xisumavoid #evil xisuma #keralis #tangotek #fume #Yes I did write it after *checks date* two months?#Hope you liked it! It's not the best fic but I tried my best #bloblowriting

23 notes · View notes

cherry-xx-love · 3 years

Text

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟑 : 𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀 𝐄𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓

Enjoy!

・❥・

𝓐𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓸𝓹𝓱𝓸𝓫𝓲𝓪

(Noun) The fear of being hurt

1 week.

168 hours.

10800 minutes.

604800 seconds.

That's how long it's been since the invitations of the ball have been sent out. That's how long it's been since the funeral ceremony of Marinette's parents.

The ball has been programmed for tonight, that is, the 21st of November, 2020.

𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕖

Marinette saw her reflection in the mirror. Content with her appearance, she went downstairs and waited for her Beta and Gamma along with their mates.

"Alpha Marinette," she turned around and greeted her Beta.

"Good evening Beta Adrien, Do you perhaps know how much time will your mate take?"

"Alpha, she is just putting on some last-minute touches," the Beta paused, "She'll be here in around 5 minutes."

In the nick of time, Adrien's mate, Kagami came down.

"Mari! You look gorgeous," Kagami exclaimed.

"Thank you, Beta- I mean Kagami. You don't look quite bad yourself," Marinette complimented her.

"Shall we go now?" Adrien asked becoming agitated.

"No, not right now. Don't you remember we also need to wait for Gamma Kim?"

"Ah, yes. How can I forget?" Adrien lazily commented.

As if he heard them, Gamma Kim came running down the stairs.

"Alpha, I am so sorry that I am late, I was finding my phone and I didn't realize the time," he apologized.

"I am letting you go this time do you understand?"

"Qui, Alpha. Merci," he thanked her.

"De rien."

"So Mari, are you going to ride with us," Kagami asked, feeling hopeful.

Marinette shook her head, "As much as I would love to ride with you guys, I prefer riding alone. And besides, I also have to test the new car that everyone got me, and besides, don't you think this is the perfect opportunity?"

"Okay, I guess," Kagami held her head in disappointment.

But Marinette did not hear her, she was already out of the room, going towards her new car.

Marinette needed to, no had to get out of the room. She could feel her anxiety rising to the peak. So, before she could have a mental breakdown in front of everyone, she walked out of the room.

Marinette grabbed her car eyes from the counter, heading out of the house. Just like Marinette, Gamma Kim also grabbed the car keys from the counter with Adrien and Kagami following behind him.

・❥・

𝔻𝔸𝕄𝔸𝕀ℕ

Being the Alpha King, Damain had to get ready on time to meet his so-called guests.

Just as he was finished, there was a knock at his door.

"Come in."

Just like a week ago, Beta Richard entered the room. With a quick bow, he walked over to his Alpha.

"Alpha, the ball has commenced. The guests are starting to come," he informed.

Damain sighed, "Okay. You go ahead, I'll be there in a few minutes."

Richard gave him a bow, as a sign of respect, and deeper than what was required by his rank.

Damain walked down one of the big staircases that were built to give a majestic feeling. The hall, the chandelier, the staircases, every single detail in this ballroom was exactly like it was in Cinderella. This ballroom was designed by his mother and as you can notice, his mother was obsessed with happy endings.

This was the place where she was crowned the Luna Queen, where she got married and this was the place she found out her husband, her mate was cheating on her by none other than her sister.

Based on his experience, hating this place came naturally to him.

・❥・

𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕖

Within an hour, Marinette and her group reached the required destination.

As she got nearer and nearer, her wolf-rose was jumping up and down in delight.

Both Damain and Marinette had a weird feeling something might happen, something.............good.

They were all greeted by Beta Richard, who was at the entrance, assuring that everyone had a bonne journee. (Good journey)

She felt this pull towards something. Something she couldn't make out, whether it was an object or a person pulling her.

Only time would tell, she thought.

And indeed only time would tell.

Marinette felt the distress of her wolf, more than ever now.

"Rose, are you okay," she asked.

"MATE! MATE! MATE!" Rose yipped.

She looked around the room. She did feel the bond, but it was too weak for her to follow.

She sat down on a nearby chair, hoping her mate might find her. She couldn't stand in these heels!

"EVERYONE WELCOME, THE ALPHA KING, HIS MAJESTY, ALPHA DAMAIN," one of the omega's announced.

Everyone clapped and applauded. As the Alpha King walked down the staircase, she could feel her bond strengthen. However, she stayed put, thinking that it was nothing but a coincidence.

After mingling a bit with everyone, the Alpha King walked in her direction.

"Would you like to have a dance with me, Alpha Marinette?" Alpha Damian asked

Marinette stood there thinking about his offer, debating if she should go. There was something unusual about him, it was just that she couldn't recognize what it was.

"Well?" he prompted.

Dismissing the weird feeling in her stomach, she took his hand in hers. As soon as their hands touched, sparks were flying around, making them both go crazy.

"Mine," they both growled.

She couldn't believe who her mate was. The Alpha King! No this can't happen. She was just getting used to the work of an Alpha and now her being the Luna Queen.

Noticing her distress, Damain asked, "Are you okay, love?"

"No, I'm not okay. I never was," she slipped her hand out of his and ran towards the entrance.

"GUARDS! CATCH HER! MAKE SURE SHE DOESN'T ESCAPE!" Damain dictated.

Granted the guards were fast, but Marinette was faster. As the guards were about to reach her, Rose took over. For more efficient running, Marinette took off her heels and left them, only to be picked by Damain.

In the end, Marinette reached her house safely with the help of Rose. And as for Damain, he slept with his Mate's shoes beside him.

Hey guys! Hope u liked this chapter!

DON'T KILL ME FOR NOT UPDATING!

Xoxo,

Leisha

#dameinette #damianwayne #i love you #long reads #long post

14 notes · View notes

letstalkaboutsebbaby · 3 years

Text

Related Activities - Chapter 3

The district has a new attorney and Marshall is going to learn the hard way that he should have acted sooner in pursuing his passion for Caroline.

Pairing: Andy Barber x OFC (Caroline Kline) / Walter Marshall x OFC (Caroline Kline)

Author: Deb @letstalkaboutsebbaby / @letswriteaboutsebbaby

Rating: Mature

Warnings: crime talk

A/N: I do have a lovely beta, but she’s dealing with a lot at the moment so for this fic I’m on my own. Hopefully, I’ll be able to get things right. (If you’re free and patient, I would love some help).

Feel free to comment, reblog or chat with me about it, I always love to hear your thoughts about my fics :)

Commissioner Harper looks unhappy, as one should look if there are three indirect cases of kidnapping and murder happening in your city. The directions coming out of his mouth, however, are making no sense to Marshall - informing he’ll divide the cases between the detectives.

“So you’re going to split us up and make her do this alone?” Marshall argues with more anger than he would normally express over this kind of matter.

“How long will you treat her as a kid? She’s capable and we have three homicide cases. She’s already talking to the new district attorney about the suspect’s interview and other clues she’ll follow. I’ll get an officer to be with her for the time being. I think you need to concentrate on the last kidnapping.”

“So that’s it?”

“Yes. That’s it.”

Marshall goes out of the room slamming the door, his plan of opening up to her more and show her the truth in his words deteriorating. Meanwhile, the day from Caroline’s perspective is going way better - different from what she was expecting. To meet Andy first thing in the morning has improved the day in the most unbelievable way. He’s not only incredibly handsome, but he’s also very smart and pleasant. At first, the talk has been very direct and professional, tossin’ information and possibilities around, until he comments about her accent and the conversation turns to their backgrounds and what they’re thinking about the new environment. Now they’re sitting at the coffee shop and she’s sharing her stress about the last cases and the seeming increase of violence in the district.

“I know it’s hard and I have a feeling you can use a friend.” Andy smiles at her, receiving a sweet smile back.

“Yeah, that would be nice. Are you up to it?”

“I would love to...but not many people want to befriend me I feel like I need to tell you why” the sad look in his eyes cause her immediate sorrow. Caroline’s not aware of what happened to him, but she can see how wounded Andy was by it and she wants to make him feel better.

After some minutes with Barber, learning what befallen his family and how he lost his son and wife, she gets back to work with a sorrowful feeling, distracted by the tragedy and the urge to be an element of some kind of happiness to him. It feels so presumptuous to aspire to have this role in his life, but it’s what she’s aiming for.

As Caroline absently moves the files on her desk, looking for the DNA result she talked to Andy about, Marshall asks if she already knows about the segmentation of their work.

“Yes, Harper told me already. It was you who asked him to do that?” she questions, worrying if it would’ve been his request to be away from her.

“Of course not.” He says with no hesitation.

“Ok. Good to know.” She goes back to the files on her desk, not noticing the detective walking to her until he grumbles by her ear. “Can you accompany me to the conference room, please?”

She stands up to follow him inside and he closes the door as soon as they’re inside, pushing her against the wall with a hand in her waist, startling her with his determination. “What do you want for me?”

“I want you to forget about yesterday, cause clearly I was being naive and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” she expresses her discomfort about their current situation, guilty clouding her judgment.

“If that’s what you want…” Marshall let go of her waist with reluctance, all he really wanted to do was kiss her and feel her body against his again, but for some reason the very action that should have brought them together was what tore them apart. Well, he’s the one to blame, he should have gone with it but he turned her off, now Marshall needs to build a new kind of connection with her and show her he can be more warm and affectionate.

The day went by without further conversations between them, Marshall was out following some clues and she was talking with the victim’s family, trying to confirm previous arguments and maybe find something new. She learned Mrs. Phillips had traveled to Massachusetts the past month to allegedly visit a friend - but the family didn’t know who the friend was. Apparently, she did have a lot of friends and it wasn’t uncommon for her to visit them, but this was the first time she came back before the designated day. This information incites Caroline to interview the suspect again, so she sends the news to Andy, getting a prompt answer.

Tomorrow? Can I go along? - Andy

Yes, sure - Caroline

I was about to text you and see if you’re ok… - Andy

I am, thanks. Are u? - Caroline

Yes, leaving now. Wouldn’t mind a beer or two. What do you say?- Andy

I leave in ten - Caroline

Are you driving? I can pick you up - Andy

And drive me home afterward? - Caroline

Of course. I’ll wait in the parking lot - Andy

Andy looks at the phone one more time before smirking and tucking it in his pocket and walking out of the building to his car. Caroline spots him easily and walks to the passenger’s side; before she gets there, though, he jumps out of the driver’s seat to open the door for her.

“Tired?”

“No, not yet. I usually leave way later.” She smiles while climbing in.

“Workaholic much?” Andy leans on the door staring at her with a pleased expression.

“I guess so. Come on, let’s have those beers!” she ushers him.

Once back inside, Andy drives out of the parking lot and confesses he is a bit tired, asking if it would be okay for them to have the beers at some quiet place instead of a bar. After some deliberation about where to go, they decide the best option it’s to be at hers. Indoors, she arranges glasses and some snacks at the center table and tells him to get comfy on the couch, but he opts to sit in the floor, pulling her to sit beside him.

“Let’s toast to new starts.” He says filling her glass.

“Yeah, to new starts. Hope you feel welcome here.”

“I do. A lot, thanks to you.” He clicks their glasses, admiring her sweet personality. Caroline effortlessly wraps him in a refreshing sensation that he wants to enjoy fully - he believes he deserves some happy times after everything he went through.

The time chatting about their favorite movies and books went on and on until they realize it’s 1 AM. “I better go, sweetheart, we need to work tomorrow.” Andy leans against the couch and takes her right hand in his. “I had a great time.”

“Me too. We should do that again someday.”Caroline says, hiding a soft gasp when he brings her hand closer to his mouth and gently kisses it.

They both stand and she walks him to the door. “See you tomorrow, Caroline. Sleep tight.”

You too.” she says opening the door. “Would you text me to say you got home ok?” she adds before he goes.

Looking flattered, he takes a step back, closer to her, and leans towards the cute-looking woman, kissing her cheek gently. “I will, sweetheart. Good night.”

Once she put the dishes in the washer, she takes a quick shower and goes to bed, picking her phone to see if Andy texted as promised, and he did.

I’m home, sweetheart. Nice dreams - Andy

There was another unread text though, from Marshall.

Hope you’re okay, Carol. I’m here if you need to talk. Can I pick you up tomorrow? - M

A/N: Ahhhhh...do you think she should accept the ride?

19 notes · View notes

eclecticstarlightconnoisseur · 4 years

Text

EDINBURGH TO BOSTON -CHAPTER 20 - PERMANENCE

Edinburgh to Boston

Chapter 20

Permanence

Hello all, Here is chapter 20 of Edinburgh to Boston. There are several things that you need to know when you read this. It begins directly after the King’s Gambit. In fact it is the same day. We pick up after Jamie teased Claire in bed. The chapter encompasses several days. It starts on a Tuesday and ends on Sunday night before they return to work on Monday morning. There is some concern that readers could get lost because of the changing days, so I just labeled each section with the day of the week for convenience.

I want to thank scubalass as always for her work as the beta, which is not an easy task. I can be pigheaded at times.

I give you Edinburgh to Boston, Chapter 20, Permanence. For better or worse, here goes nothing.

Tuesday afternoon:

“Come here mo chridhe, ” he beamed holding open his arms to her.

Claire eyed him suspiciously, “What are you planning to do?”

“I want tae kiss ye, ” he chuckled.

“Oh no, you don't. You're not going to get me all riled up again and not finish the job. I'm no fool you know.”

“Never thought ye were. I just thought we could start at the beginning and see where it takes us,” he proposed as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Sound like a plan?”

Claire launched herself into his arms, ”Aye, that sounds wonderful.”

They were entwined in each other’s arms luxuriating in the closeness. He stroked her with a practiced hand. Caressing her. Adoring her. Whispering words of love in her ear. They kissed and ignited an inferno. They burned bright and hot becoming blazing twin suns. He moved over her covering her body, He wanted to possess her body and soul.

“Ye are mine, Sassenach. Now and forever. Body and soul. Whether ye will it or no’. Mine.”

“Yours,” she whimpered.

And loved her tenderly, then furiously until they were sated and sleepy.

Claire yawned contentedly, “I never knew playing chess could make you so tired.”

Jamie chuckled, “‘Tis a verra rigorous game.” He pulled her against his chest wrapping his arms around her. They closed their eyes and fell into a blissful sleep.

The bedroom door opened without a sound. Claire crept into the room, careful to not wake a sleeping Jamie. He was still napping after their “chess game”. Quietly, she pulled the drapes closed muting the vibrant mid-afternoon sunlight so not to disturb his slumber.

She brought a cup of tea with her and placed it on the bedside table. After arranging pillows against the headboard to lean on, she eased herself onto the bed making herself comfortable sitting with one leg tucked under the other. Normally, she would drink her tea in the kitchen or sitting room, but today was Saturday. This was her last full day with Jamie before returning to her flat, and she didn’t want to miss a single second with him. She shook her head admitting that thought was utter rubbish. After all, she would be seeing him every day at the hospital. But she would be spending time with him as a professional colleague and not on the intimate level they shared this week.

Fragrant tendrils of steam rose around her as she inhaled the familiar bouquet. Oolong. She was pleased that Jamie liked it too. She sipped the tea savoring the taste. It was slightly sweet, fruity, with a honey aroma. What could be better than drinking your favorite tea in bed and watching your lover sleep? And she did love to watch him whether asleep or awake.

She turned to see him asleep on his back, arms crossed over his chest looking like one of the carved figures on the sarcophagi she had seen in Egypt with Lamb. His full lips were slightly parted as he breathed softly through his mouth.

Suddenly, he became restless, muttering something in Gàidhlig. A tender look crossed Claire’s face as she brushed away the curls that fell over his forehead.

“Shhh, I’m here,” she comforted.

Jamie calmed; a smile crossed his face for the briefest of moments, then vanished. His breathing evened and his face relaxed as he descended into a deeper slumber. Her forehead crinkled in fascination as she stroked his hair once more only to watch his smile reappear then disappear as it had before.

“I love you, Jamie Fraser,” she whispered. “I knew from the moment you were introduced during the staff meeting that you would carry my heart in your hands.”

The conference room had several areas that one could hide in and not be seen. Claire took her usual spot where she could work on her messages without being observed. Another useless weekly faculty meeting. The Chief droned on about creating the preeminent Cardiothoracic Service in the entire U. K. To this end he hired an up and coming surgeon to join the team. He would bring new energy to the stalled department. The Chief extolled the accomplishments, awards, and research activities of the new team member.

There had been many applicants for the position. Claire wondered who he had chosen. It certainly wasn’t the woman she had suggested.

“I would like to introduce you to Dr. James Fraser. Come up here dear boy.”

A giant of a man rose from his seat in the audience gracefully striding toward the podium.

The two men shook hands exchanging general pleasantries.

“On behalf of the department, I extend our warmest welcome and wish you much success,” droned the Chief. “I’m turning the microphone over to Dr. Fraser for a few words.”

The first thing Claire noticed was his voice. It was deep, smooth, luxurious, and warm. It flowed over her wrapping around her like a favorite blanket. She noticed a definite burr to it that vibrated with command.

She couldn't see from her vantage point causing her to shift her position a few chairs over.

Claire looked up and saw the most beautiful man she had ever seen. He was tall with fiery red hair and the deepest blue eyes. He was engaging, serious when it called for it, and charming. The audience was enthralled.

After he finished speaking Dr. Sandringham returned to the podium.

“You may have heard, the hospital has decided on a trial of pairing surgeons together as a measure to improve quality care in a cost effective manner. In our department two surgeons have been chosen to pilot this new program based on my recommendations. The two surgeons designated to lead this programme are Dr. Fraser and Dr. Beauchamp. Claire, where are you, my dear? Come and meet Dr. Fraser.”

Claire’s mouth hung open like a landed fish unable to believe what she heard. She had overheard the rumors about some trial programme partnering surgeons together. “Sandringham! Up to his old tricks,” she thought. “Well, he would not get away with this one. He thought he could stick the newbie on her, but she already was overworked. Why not have MacPherson do it? He sits all day watching the Scottish stock market while she’s busy operating, doing the consults, or running a clinic. Claire decided she wouldn’t let the Chief get away with it this time. She would tell him to bloody well find someone else to hold hands with Fraser, was it?” Closing her mouth she slowly stood. Her hands flew to her hair, trying to smooth it into place but knew it was useless to try.

She walked up to Fraser and immediately got lost in his blue eyes. Claire made a little gasping noise then extended her hand, “Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp. I guess you’re stuck with me.” She blushed crimson red. Something she hadn't done since her youth.

He took her hand in his massive ones tipping his head toward her, “James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser. At your service and I assure you the pleasure is all mine.”

At that moment, something passed between them. The attraction between them was magnetic. It pulled at them speaking of a time yet to come, of words yet unsaid, and of things yet to happen. The force drew them as if they were pieces of lodestone being pushed together. They gazed at each other wondering if the other felt it too.

Dr. Fraser reluctantly let go of her hand, gave her a lopsided smile, “I look forward to our first case together, Dr. Beauchamp.”

Claire never did have that conservation with Sandringham. It was the best thing she never did. She smiled at the recollection of their meeting and slid down to curl into his side. Her head came to rest on his chest while her leg found its way over his. She found contentment and peace lying next to Jamie. She felt at home. Home. Now that was a strange concept to her. She and Lamb lived life like a pair of gypsies, never having the opportunity to put down roots. She enjoyed her travels with Lamb. It was fun and fascinating like being on perpetual vacation. There was, however, something missing in her life. A place to call her own. A place where she could leave her imprint. Like owning that blue and white vase she had seen during her travels years ago. If she only had a home to display it in. It would say, ‘Claire lives here.’ The idealization of home represented a place where she could feel safe, secure, and happy. She had hoped that she could have made that a reality with Frank, but that was not to be.

Jamie grunted then turned to his side pulling Claire into the refuge of his arms.

Then it struck her. Safe, secure, and happy within his arms. Home did not have to be only a physical place or structure. It could be a person too. Smiling broadly, she realized that she could wander the face of the earth with Jamie for the rest of her life and still be home. He was her home now. She basked in the warmth of his embrace, knowing she truly had found her home at last.

Looking at her suitcase in the corner, Claire thought it probably a good idea to leave a few things here since she would stay here on occasion. She mentally reviewed its contents deciding on what she should keep here.

Her thoughts drifted toward her flat. It was “home” but the space seemed rather plain and utilitarian. Just a place for her to eat, keep her clothes, and sleep. She had little interest in decorating the place since she never had company. To be honest, she never wanted company or invited anyone over. Claire had been content living her solitary life with Ginger, but now everything has changed. Ought she spruce the place up? What about new drapes for more privacy? At least new bed linens, towels for the bathroom. Maybe a throw rug and a few pillows would be nice. She didn’t want Jamie to think she lived like some cloistered nun.

Claire froze. Perhaps she should reciprocate and make room for him if he wanted to leave some things there. Would he even want to come over to her place? She began to bite her lip with worry. God, this was all so new and she didn’t know how to handle it.

“Mo neighan donn, yer thinking so hard I can hear ye.”

Claire startled at his voice, “I’m sorry did I wake you?” She turned to face Jamie looking directly into his sapphire eyes.

“Nah, ye dinna wake me, but are ye alright?”

“Oh, I’m fine, just lost in thought.”

“About what, my own? ‘Tis it serious?”

“No, no, no. Just deciding on what to leave here. And reciprocating for you at my place. If you would want to stay that is,” she asked shyly.

“Is yer bed big enough? Ye ken I need a lot of room,” he smirked, giving her a lustful look.

“Was he asking if it was big enough to fit him or was he asked about something else, Claire wondered.”

“I do believe... I’m sure it’s... Fine. Yes,it’s fine. Um, what are we talking about?”

“Yer bed, Sassenach. I wanted to know if it’s big.” He pulled her into his embrace, pressing his hips against her belly.

Claire felt the length of his arousal. “I think it will be more than satisfactory.”

“I would be delighted to spend the night at yer place anytime yer willing to have me,” he smoldered at her.

“Good, very good,” she babbled into his lips.

“Aye, ‘tis good indeed.”

They snuggled together enjoying the quiet and the feel of each other.

Jamie leaned down to place a kiss on Claire’s brow. It was creased and furrowed. He felt her tense for a moment then relax.

“Claire.”

“Hm?”

“What else is on yer mind? Ye canna hide it, something else is bothering ye. It’s written all over yer face. Ye ken ye can tell me anything.” His finger traced a line over her cheek trying to soothe her.

Claire tipped her head forward and her hair slid across her face like a veil protecting her from his scrutiny, “You know what the rule of thumb is with sexual partners? You not only slept with your partner but with everyone they previously slept with.” Her eyes shied away unable to settle on him. Swallowing the lump in her throat she continued, “As you recall I went to Lamb’s after Frank raped me,” she stopped and took a deep breath to gather her strength again. “Lamb convinced me to go to the hospital. I told the examining doctor that I had evidence that Frank had multiple partners. So, I was tested for every conceivable STD, and by some miracle, everything turned up negative,” she exhaled. “I had them all repeated when I got back to Scotland after the divorce. Again, everything was negative. I just wanted you to know that I am clean. I should have told this sooner, Jamie. I’m sorry I didn’t.”

She searched his placid blue eyes hoping to find understanding.

The look of him described his mood, eyebrows pulled down together and his lips narrowed forming thin lines. The very picture of anger. Not because of what she told him. But because he hoped they left the ugliness of Frank behind them. But he should have realized that after her past and current trauma more revelations would arise over time. All he could do was be there for her to support her. And he would for as long as she needed him to.

He cleared his throat, “Since we are talking of such things, ye may as well know that I have been tested too. All negative. And I havenae been with anyone else since I have been tested.”

Jamie stopped and looked at Claire. She still had a troubled look about her.

“Do ye have something else ye want to tell me?”

She gave him a sidelong look, “I brought this up because we have not practiced safe sex.” She paused waiting to see if anything registered with him.

“Aye, ‘tis so and...”

“I have an IUD Jamie. I didn’t want to have children with Frank. Things became more and more unsettled between us and I didn’t want to bring a child into that relationship. My residency, my fellowship. It all seemed too much. So we don’t have to worry about birth control either.”

Jamie went a pale, ashy color. Christ, he didn’t think. He really didn’t think. He lusted after her just like a stag during the rut. No thought of the consequences for her. No, he only thought about himself and wanting her. He felt ashamed.

“Claire, I’m sorry. I dinna think. I just wanted ye so bad. And me a doctor. I should have…”

Claire raised a finger to his lips to silence him. “It’s alright. And I wanted you too. I don’t know if I could have stopped myself either Truthfully, we both share the blame. We should have spoken about this beforehand. I should have told you sooner about the IUD.”

She quieted allowing a few moments to pass before speaking again, “There is nothing to worry about. We’re both young and healthy. Except for your penchant for getting injured,” she quipped giving him a sly look.

“Then ‘tis a good thing I’m in love with a doctor so ye can tend my wounds,” he smirked giving her a crooked smile.

“Is that why you want me? So I can tend your wounds.”

“Nay Sassenach. I want ye because I love ye. Now enough talk, just let me hold ye,” as he pulled her closer to his chest.

******************

Time is an ethereal thing. It flies swiftly as if borne on the wings of Mercury. Try to grasp it and it will slide through your fingers like grains of sand. For lovers, time is but an enemy. Always pushing the present into the past making the now just a sweet memory.

Wednesday morning broke clear and sunny, but a dark cloud hovered over Jamie. Four more days. That’s all that he had left with his Sassenach. Four days. Then Claire would return to her own flat on Sunday. Time took on a sense of urgency for Jamie Fraser. He was sorry about what happened in Boston, but it worked out, in his point of view, for the best. Leaving Boston early gave him these four days with her all to himself. And he would not waste a single second of this precious time with his Claire.

Beauchamp had always been something of a recluse, never socializing with other staff members. He knew her habits and wants intimately in the operating room, but privately not very well. He knew how she liked her coffee, which scones were her favorite, and she ate whatever she liked without gaining an ounce. She liked to sleep on the left side of the bed. There were, however, a myriad of other things he did not know about her. If he wanted to take care of her, and he did, he would need to know more about her. Uncovering the mystery of Claire Beauchamp would become his life’s mission. He decided they would spend their remaining time together doing as new lovers do, learning the ways of each other.

Each day for their remaining time, the couple did everything together.

The mornings were spent together making breakfast. Claire would bake a batch of scones. Jamie would scramble the eggs while the requisite parritach bubbled and burped in its pot. They teased each other, stealing glances, and small touches as they worked together. It made for a thoroughly enjoyable way to start the day.

They spent their days talking about their lives, family, and adventures. Jamie told Claire tales of the highlands acting out parts of the story, making her laugh until her sides would ache and tears streamed down her face. Hearing that Claire had never read The Hobbit or The Lord of the Rings Jamie took it upon himself to rectify this breach in her knowledge of fine literature. He would read to her, complete with the required sound effects and character voices, as she laid on the settee with her head in his lap. Claire pronounced the book as their book. They watched the telly poking fun at each other's choice of programmes. And they played chess over, and over, and over again never managing to finish a single game.

That was the way of it until Saturday morning arrived…

Jamie rose before Claire deciding they would do something a little different today. It was something he wanted to do for her and he hoped it would please her.

Claire awoke to feel quite refreshed as she stretched luxuriously. The duvet slid from her body exposing her breasts to the chilled air of the room and her nipples instantly hardened. She chuckled to herself debating the value of leaving a nightgown and pyjamas here since she always ends up sleeping naked next to Jamie. Going to the en-suite, she quickly showered then brushed her teeth. Sneaking a peek at her hair, she sighed then wrestled it into submission. She put on one of Jamie’s old tee-shirts (which she knew she would take home with her) and padded out into the kitchen. Jamie was not there and breakfast had not been prepared.

“Jamie?”

“In here, Sassenach.”

Claire followed the sound of his voice finding him sitting on the settee fully dressed in jeans, jumper, and boots. His jacket, scarf, and cap were draped over a chair waiting for him.

“Are you going somewhere,” she inquired.

“We,” he emphasized, “are going somewhere. We have been in this flat since we arrived back in Edinburgh on Monday and I thought it would be nice tae take a walk. Besides that, I have some things that I need tae attend tae. I made ye yer coffee. Drink it as ye get dressed, aye?”

She grabbed her coffee and took a drink of the dark rich brew as she hurried off to get dressed all while wondering what Jamie had on his mind. She dressed quickly pulling on her skinny jeans, a jumper, and her boots. Claire did not remember packing these jeans but happy that she did. She turned to look in the mirror observing her bum and she liked what she saw. She smiled smugly and knew Jamie would like it too. She stuffed her hair up into her hat, wrapped a scarf around her neck, then grabbed her coat.

After depositing her cup in the sink, Claire found Jamie standing at the door with his coat on. She twirled for him, “Do I look alright for our day out?”

He looked at her, admiring how her jeans fit over that magnificent arse wondering if going out was truly a good idea or not.

Jamie swallowed hard, “Aye, ye look verra bonnie.” He held open the door bowing to Claire,” Come along Sassenach the day awaits us,” he urged her out the door before he changed his mind.

For a winter day in Edinburgh, it seemed rather warm. Still, the air had a deliciously crisp and refreshing feel. Jamie reached out, took hold of Claire’s hand, and knitted their fingers together.

Dr. Fraser was well known in the neighbourhood. People, shopkeepers called out to wish him good-day. Heads bent low chattering away like a clan of sparrows that the good doctor had a lady. Jamie smiled knowing full well what the gossips whispered in hushed tones. He grinned as he took his arm and wrapped it around Claire’s shoulder pulling her into his side as close as possible. Let’s give the old bletherskates something to talk about, he thought. And he bent, placing a kiss on Claire’s crown. Mine, he thought and he wanted the whole world to know it.

Claire looked up at him as she snuggled closer to his side.

They stopped in different shops along the street, picking and choosing things they liked. Jamie bought another book to also become their book. Chess had already become their game, but adding another wouldn’t hurt. Or two or three. Jamie smirked wondering how they could get creative with the new games. So the day went, they walked from shop to shop choosing things that they both liked destined to become theirs.

“Dr. Fraser! Dr. Beauchamp!” they heard a voice call out.

They turned in the direction of the voice. Jamie on seeing the man broke out into a broad smile.

“A charaid!” he returned the call. “Come, Claire,” he urged tugging at her hand.

A tall balding man of slim wiry build and merry blue eyes stood outside a florist shop waving excitedly at them.

Jamie and the man clasped each other’s hands engaging in a rapid handshake and back-slapping in the manner of old friends.

“Claire, ye remember Ewan MacDonald, do ye no’? We operated on his Da, Graeme, last year. ‘Twas a triple bypass if I recall correctly.”

“Why yes, I do recall. How are you Ewan and your father, how is he doing?” Claire inquired as she took hold of his hand.

“Ach, he’s braw Dr. Beauchamp, just braw, thanks tae ye and Dr. Fraser. Some days we need tae remind him that he’s 80. Always on the go. ‘Tis a sight tae behold,” he grinned. “Where are me manners? Why do ye no come into me shop for a bit and warm-up?” Ewan offered.

“Tapadh leibh,” Jamie smiled. He placed his hand on the small of Claire’s back encouraging her to go forward.

It was like being magically transported from the chill of winter to the warmth and beauty of summer. The shop was perfumed with the scent of fresh-cut flowers, flowers growing in pots, small and large potted foliage plants, dish gardens, and terrariums. An assortment of plain clay pots as well as hand-painted terra cotta planters were scattered around the workbench. In an out of the way corner of the shop exquisite vases could be found for sale.

Claire spied a young woman caring for seedlings sprouting under grow-lights. “If you gentlemen would not mind, I would like to look around,” she said happily.

“Of course, Dr. Beauchamp. Enjoy yerself,” replied Ewan.

Jamie called to her as she turned to walk away, “Claire, I dinna ken what yer favorite flower is. Could ye tell me?”

“Well, I love all flowers. But, you will think me silly if I told you what my favorite flower is.”

“Yer no’ a silly woman, Beauchamp. Tell me.”

“It’s forget-me-nots.”

“Forget-me-nots? No’ a rose or an orchid or something like that?” Jamie looked puzzled.

“No, forget-me-nots. I planted them on my parents and Uncle Lamb’s graves. The flowers mean remembrance when people are parted or after death,” her face and voice becoming solemn. After a moment, Claire added, “But, they also represent a growing affection between two people, as well as true and undying love.” She looked into his eyes, as blue as the forget-me-nots she spoke of. “So, my favorite flower is the forget-me-not, ” Claire smiled and turned away to join the woman working with the seedlings.

Silent communication crossed between the two men. Jamie raised his eyebrows in question while Ewan vehemently shook his head no. Jamie glared at him, his lips becoming thin. He would not take no for an answer.

“‘Tis winter,” Ewan hissed.

“Aye, ‘tis winter for sure,” Jamie confirmed.

“I dinna ken where I can find any!”

Both men turned their gaze toward her. Claire glowed with happiness. As she spoke, her graceful hands fluttered animatedly as she described something to the woman.

Ewan turned to look at Jamie and saw his love for her written all over his face as he watched her.

“Ye love her!” Ewan exclaimed in a soft low voice.

“Does it show much?”

“That it does, mo charaid, that it does,” he chuckled while shaking his head. “And the ladies of the neighbourhood thought ye to be a lifelong bachelor,” he snorted. Ewan sighed heavily, rolled his eyes toward heaven then shook his head yes. “Fer ye and Dr. Beauchamp, aye, I’ll make it happen. I ken a man, a horticulturist by the name of John Bartram, who may have what ye want.” Ewan paused, “He’ll have tae overnight them. It can be pricey, ye ken?”

Jamie nodded in agreement and clapped the man on the shoulder, “For Monday morning, aye? ‘Tis our first day back tae work and I’d like tae have a wee posy tae leave on her desk. ”

“Aye Dr. Fraser. Monday ‘tis.”

Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp was a woman of science and did not believe in luck, chance, or coincidence. If such things existed, they didn’t apply to her. It was odd that only this morning she thought of the blue and white Chinese vase she wanted to buy all those years ago. How was it that by some strange twist of fate its twin is sitting on the upper shelf of a florist shop in Edinburgh? She gravitated over to where the vases were for a closer look. Could some serendipitous force have led her and Jamie to this shop today? Perhaps today if luck did exist it would favour her after all. Maybe this was a second chance to have it and this time it would not slip through her fingers.

Jamie saw Claire looking at the vase covetously. He drew Ewan’s attention to the vase pointing at it with his chin. Whispering to him, “Put it in a bag for me will ye?”

“Aye, Dr. Fraser.”

“Claire,” Jamie called to her. “‘Tis time for lunch. My wame is empty.”

“I’d like to speak to Ewan before we go, alright?”

“Ewan, that blue and white vase you have on the second shelf I’d like to buy it.”

“Oh, Dr. Beauchamp, I am sae sorry. It should not be there. Someone else purchased it. I just forgot tae take it down. In fact, the person is coming today tae pick it up,” Ewan said as he reached to take it down. “Siusan, would ye be sae kind as tae wrap this up.”

A look of pained disappointment slipped across Claire’s features at the news.

“I dinna ken ye sold this vase, Ewan.”

Ewan scowled at his shop girl. “I just did tae Dr. Fraser. ‘Tis a gift,” he whispered as he tipped his head toward Claire.

Siusan turned to look at the couple then smiled, “Ach, aye,” she whispered back. “I’ll tend tae this immediately.”

“I shall keep an eye out for another one like it, Dr. Beauchamp. If I find one, I’ll let ye know,” Ewan took her hand and gave her a gentlemanly bow pressing a kiss to her hand.

He smirked as he heard Jamie growl with annoyance.

“Ye ready, Claire?” Jamie questioned as he grabbed hold of their packages.

“Yes, quite ready. I did so enjoy visiting your lovely shop. I do hope to see you again soon. Please give my regards to your father.”

After shaking Ewan’s hand, Jamie took hold of Claire’s hand guiding her toward his favorite cafe for lunch.

After seating, Jamie ordered a soup, sandwich, and chips. Claire opted for the soup and a salad.

Claire was uncharacteristically quiet during lunch. She left her soup untouched and glumly pushed and poked at the greens on the plate.

Jamie gently raised her chin up trying to read her face without much success. “Sassenach, can ye tell me what’s on your mind?”

Claire gave him a sad little smile. “I’m not upset, truly, it’s...well, more reminiscing about something that happened a long time ago,” she replied as her hand reached to snatch a chip from his plate.

“I’d like to hear about it,” he encouraged.

She munched on Jamie’s chips one after another as she contemplated the telling of her story.

Jamie frowned as he watched his chips disappear little by little into Claire’s waiting mouth. He signaled the server, pointed to his plate of missing chips ordering two more.

“It happened when Lamb and I were in China for one of his excavations. I had gone to the market to buy supplies when I spotted this beautiful blue and white vase in a little store. Every day I would stop to admire it. I really wanted it, but I didn’t have a place to keep it,’ she said while snatching away another chip. “It didn’t seem practical to carry it around the world with me so I settled for admiring it in the window. One day I went back to look at it and it was gone. The shopkeeper told me someone bought it. When I saw the one in Ewan’s shop, it looked so much like the one in China. I thought I had a second chance to buy the vase, but I guess it wasn’t meant for me to have,” she said dejectedly.

Jamie leaned over and rummaged in the bags. “Do ye mean this one?” He placed the blue and white vase on the table in front of Claire. “I meant to give this to ye after dinner, but ye look so sad now, I couldna wait.”

Claire gasped in shock as she took in the vase sitting on the table in front of her. It took several serviettes to remove the chip grease from her fingers. With a shaking hand, she reached out and stroked the vase proving to herself that it was indeed real.

Claire looked from the vase to Jamie then back to the vase. “You bought this for me?” her voice filled with emotion.

“Aye, I saw how much ye wanted it so I bought it for ye.”

She got up and launched herself at Jamie taking his mouth in a fierce kiss. “Thank you. You don’t know what this means to me.” Two fat tears broke free and rolled down her cheek.

He cradled her face in his large warm hands and used his thumbs to gently erase each tear away.

“Sassenach, dinna cry. ‘Tis only a vase.”

Her face sprang up abruptly. “Only a vase, only a vase! You couldn’t be more wrong, Fraser. It’s not just a vase, it’s-it’s-it’s just everything,” she stuttered.

It didn’t matter to Jamie that they were in a cafe, he pulled Claire closer to his chest, offering her the comfort of his body. His hand ran across her face as he whispered into her hair, “Claire, why don’t ye tell me all about it then.”

For Chrissakes, Beauchamp, you’re in a public place. What do you think you’re doing making a spectacle of yourself? Claire moved to get up and return to her seat, but Jamie held her fast.

“No. Stay where you are. I dinna care who sees us and neither should ye. Now, if ye dinna mind I’d like to hear ye story.”

She nodded her head, then wrapped her arms around his neck wondering how to explain this to him.

“I envy you, Jamie,” she began. “You had everything that I have ever wanted. Parents who loved you. Siblings who loved you, played with you, even fought with you. Friends, school mates. A regular school you went to every day. Sporting activities. Even your damn chess club,” she glared at him. “And, of course, there was Lallybroch. Every day you went to your home, to your room where you could study, daydream, and sleep in your bed.”

“Among other things,” he mumbled.

“Beg your pardon. I didn’t hear that.”

“‘Tis nothing,” he blushed, “Please continue.”

“When I saw the vase, I thought it signified home, my home,” she emphasized. It meant I lived there. It would be a place I would go to every day. To me, that vase represented everything I had ever wanted, had hoped for. The vase meant safety, security, permanence, stability.” She searched his face to see if he understood what she meant and she saw the dawning of understanding. “Mind, I don’t regret my childhood at all. It was magical, a wonderful opportunity most children will never have. And I loved Lamb, so very much. But, sometimes I just wanted…”

“Tae be like every other bairn, aye?”

“Yes. Normal. Not always on the move.”

“I see.” He paused, letting what she said sink in. “Do ye ken, Claire this is what I had in mind today. I wanted ye tae have things at the flat that would make ye comfortable, so ye would ken ye belonged there. No’ a guest. I wanted ye tae ken ye belonged there just as much as I do. That ‘tis your home if ye want. Anytime ye want, whenever ye want. I was worried that ye might think this too fast or too soon tae be talking like this, but maybe no’.” He looked at her with a look of sincerity causing her to become overwhelmed by his statement.

Claire leaned forward resting her forehead against his. “Thank you,” she whispered to him.

“For what, a leannan ? I just want ye tae be happy and I want tae be the one tae make ye happy.” He brought her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips across her fingers.

Her lips parted as though to say something. She changed her mind and bent forward giving him a passionate kiss. Jamie wrapped his arms around her waist pulling Claire in to deepen the kiss.

The sound of dishes and cutlery crashing to the floor caught their attention ending the kiss. All eyes were centered on them. Customers gaped with eyes bulging, and mouths agape. The young waitress, with a serious crush on Jamie, had dropped the plates she was about to serve. Claire’s cheeks flushed pink from the heat of the kiss.

“I think we have worn out our welcome.”

“From the looks of things, I’d say yer right,” he agreed.

Claire stood, her chin held high as she brushed away imaginary wrinkles from her jumper. She put on her scarf and coat while Jamie did the same. He left money on the table with a rather sizable tip and gathered up their belongings. The shaken waitress came toward the table as Claire grabbed another crisp.

“Best crisps in all of Edinburgh,” she declared. And they walked with dignity out the door.

He grabbed her hand, each looking at the other as they strode off cackling like two loons.

*********************

The weather changed during the day as the sun disappeared behind a mass of gray clouds. A cold, piercing wind blew biting cheeks and noses turning them cherry red. By the time they arrived back at Jamie’s flat in late evening, they were cold and hungry. Completing all the errands had taken a considerable amount of time. They warmed their fingers and toes in front of the fire Jamie started in the fireplace. They spread their purchases out on the floor while they discussed the proper place for each item.

“I’ll leave ye to it mo chridhe, while I heat up dinner for us,” Jamie said as he walked into the kitchen.

Claire nodded in agreement as she set about her task. She picked up the last bag and brought it with her to the sofa. It contained the vase. Carefully, she took the vase out and unwrapped it. She turned it around admiring it. It did look like the one that got away. Claire studied the room and finally came to a decision. A credenza, that Jamie used as a bar, stood off to the side displaying glassware on the left and the right. But the center was empty as if waiting for something special to claim the space. Carefully, she placed the vase centering it between the stemware. Stepping back Claire gave it a critical look. She broke out into a broad smile pleased with her decision.

Such a simple ordinary thing, a vase. To Claire, this homey object had been the symbol of the home she longed for and it needed to be shared. Shared with the man who held her heart and had become her home.

“Now it feels like home,” she murmured.

Jamie entered the room silently walking quickly toward Claire. He wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her against him, placing a tender kiss to her temple.

“What are ye about, mo nighean donn? Are ye no’ taking yer vase home with ye?”

Claire turned in his arms resting her cheek against his chest listening to the strong steady thrum of his heart. She stood on tiptoe gently kissing his lips murmuring, “It is home here with you.”

***********************************

It was Sunday already. Heaving a heavy sigh, Claire wondered how time had disappeared so quickly. She felt the spectre of loneliness try to creep back grabbing at her heart and soul with its icy fingers trying to reclaim them. This time she would not allow it. There was love in her life now. Jamie had turned her life around. He filled her life with love, laughter, and tenderness. He banished her pain and emptiness and she felt alive again. Loneliness would never have a chance to possess her again. And the once ever-present shadow vanished like the early mountain mist with the coming of the bright morning sunlight.

Claire stood staring into Jamie’s closet. She had taken up his offer to leave a few of her things there. She left her favorite little black dress, a pair of heels, some work-appropriate skirts and blouses, and a new lab coat. Her hand ran over his clothes and began to conjure an image of him dressed in them. Inhaling deeply she smelled his garments. Masculine. Pure unadulterated Jamie untainted by anything else. There was no other way to describe it. The scent would comfort her during the nights away from him. Besides, she stole his tee-shirt. The one she would wear to bed and imagine his arms wrapped around her while she slept.

Then there was the bed. The bed they had made love in, discovered each other in. Closing her eyes, Claire remembered what they had done throughout the week. The touches, lips grazing, moans of fulfillment. Last night and this morning were different. Their love-making became more desperate. An attempt to fend off the impending separation. Never had she felt such love, joy, and sadness. It would have to last, to be enough until they could be together again.

“Are ye ready Claire?” Jamie called from the sitting room.

“Yes, I’m coming.”

He drove her home and carried her bags up to her flat.

“I can take it from here,” Claire said in a hushed voice.

They stood there for what may have been a second or an hour. Neither wanting to be the one to say goodbye.

Jamie placed his hands on her hips pulling Claire against him, his head resting on top of hers. The warmth of his body calmed her and she relaxed into him.

“Jamie, I don’t…,” Claire sniffled.

“Hush, mo ghràdh, I’ll see ye tomorrow. Naught more than twelve hours,” he soothed.

“Do ye need me to pick up yer wee beast for ye?” he asked.

“No, the Bugs will be over with her in about an hour.”

“Then I guess I should be on my way and let ye get settled in. It will be a long day tomorrow for both of us.

“I guess so,” she mumbled as she looked up at him.

Wordlessly, Jamie brought his lips down to hers, kissing her tenderly.

“Sleep well, m'eudail. I love ye.”

Jamie hesitated then turned and left looking as if he had just lost his best friend.

Claire stood rooted to the spot watching him as he walked away wanting him to stay here with her.

I didn’t tell him I loved him back. Panic ensued. She raced outside just in time to see Jamie drive away.

Dismayed, she trudged back into her flat. Fuck! She swore, annoyed that she didn’t tell him and that she missed him before he drove off. I’ll call him. No, I’ll text him. Better yet, I’ll do both as soon as he gets home.

Claire took hold of her luggage and wheeled it into her bedroom. She hoisted it up on her bed, opened the case, and started to remove her things. There was a rap at the door along with the doorbell ringing.

“Hallo?”

“Claire, ma dearie, we brought yer lass home,” answered Murdina Bug.

Claire opened the door and Ginger bolted into the room almost knocking Claire over in the process. The dog spun around in excited circles, yipping a greeting to her mama. Claire squatted down to the dog’s level stroking her soft fur.

“How’s my girl then?” she laughed. The dog rolled over demanding belly rubs which were promptly given.

Oh, here is the soup, I promised ye. I dinna think ye would have the time to make dinner.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Bug you didn’t have to do this.” The soup was still warm and had a wonderfully rich aroma making Claire’s mouth water.

“‘Twas naught. Arch and I needta be leaving ye,” she said as she thrust the container of soup in Claire’s hands. “We’re on a date,” she beamed as she looked up at her husband. “The lass has been fed and had a good walk so there is naught for ye tae do. Ye’ll bring her before ye go tae work? She’s a good helper with those rascals. Keeps them in line, ye ken?”

“Yes, you’ve told me what a great help she is to you. We’ll be there in the morning. Enjoy your evening.”

Ginger sat at attention, her tongue lolling out of her mouth. She nosed Claire’s hand looking for a scratch behind the ear. She sneezed. There was something wrong with her mama’s smell. It was different. Ginger licked her mama’s hand. That was fine, she tastes normal. A cold wet nose sniffed at Claire, her ear, hands, arms, eventually finding its way to her legs. The smell was strongest here. The dog inhaled deeply and let out a powerful sneeze.

“My sweet girl, are you sick?” Claire began to fret. She ran her hands over the dog checking her as best as she could. Her eyes were clear, nose cold and wet, nothing dripping from it. Her breathing did not seem labored. Claire dismissed the sneezing to a dusty room.

“We must clean up. It won’t do to have you sneezing. But first things, first,” she winked at the dog.

Claire reached for her purse taking out her cell. Quickly she sent off her text to Jamie. Before she had a chance to call him, her phone rang. It was Jamie. She smiled answering his call.

Ginger was perplexed by the change in her mama. She raised her nose high in the air turning her head in different directions, sniffing. She followed her nose to the bedroom. The smell was stronger there. Whatever it was it seemed to be coming from her bed. Walking over to the bed, she stood on her hind legs so she could smell Claire’s open suitcase. It positively reeked! Ginger didn’t know what kind of animal her mama had been with while she was away, but she did not like it. Not one bit. The dog jumped up on the bed, took Claire’s clothes out the suitcase scattering them over the bed. She pawed at the clothing until she found what she was looking for. Found it, Ginger thought. The odor was strongest on a shirt and on some of her mama’s clothes. The small clothes that mama wore covering her between her legs. She used her nails to scratch at the shirt trying to tear it to pieces. When that didn’t work she chewed it. The shirt was a soggy mess lying limp like an old rag doll by the time she was done. For good measure, she rolled over the clothing wanting to eradicate the scent. Mine, the dog thought. This is my mama and I will not share. After she removed the odor from the intruder, and thoroughly covered the garments with her fur, she left the bedroom.

She settled in her bed knowing that she would get a scolding for what she did. Ginger didn’t care. After all, she was protecting her mama and that was her job. She knew her mama would not see it that way.

The dog watched Claire walk into the bedroom. Wait for it, wait for it.

“GINGER! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!,” came the bellow.

Claire charged into the sitting room waving Jamie’s sodden shirt. It was covered in dog hair as well.

“What have you done young lady? Hmm? I was going to sleep in this tonight. And all my other clothes need a good washing too,” Claire frowned holding up her fur covered panties.

The dog looked up at her with large soft chocolate brown eyes full of remorse. She covered her face with her paws as an act of contrition.

“Oh, all right. You did that because I was gone so long and you missed me,” Claire sighed. She patted the dog on the head in forgiveness. “Just don’t ever do that again. OK?”

She woofed happily, madly wagging her tail.

Two hours later saw the laundry completed. Claire sniffed Jamie’s shirt. The scent may not be as strong as before, but it definitely lingered. It seemed as if his smell permanently embedded itself in the fibers. Deciding to make it an early night Claire completed her nightly ritual, pulling on the tee-shirt marveling at its softness. As it skimmed over her body, it reminded her of Jamie’s loving caresses.

Jamie. She missed him already. Badly. Only eight more hours before I see him again, she consoled herself.

After plumping the pillows and pulling back the duvet, Claire snuggled in the bed. The room was dark with only the faintest light from the moon cast shadows along the floor.

Claire tossed and turned. Turning with such regularity the sheets twisted until it resembled a coiled snake. A car drove past. A siren's wail.The creaks and groans of the flat settling. All the noises of the night creating an unwanted symphony determined to keep her awake. At one point, Claire looked at the opposite side of the bed and imagined Jamie lying next to her. It was so real her hand reached out to touch him. But he was nothing more than illusion. It was no use. Sleep continued to elude her. The reason she knew was she missed Jamie.

Her phone began to vibrate. Claire wondered who would be calling at that late hour. Jamie’s name blazed across her phone.

“Hi.”

“I dinna wake ye, did I?”

“No. I was staring at the ceiling if you must know.”

“Aye, me too.” Jamie hesitated for a moment, “I canna sleep. I...I miss ye. The bed is empty without ye in it.”

Claire exhaled softly. “I miss you too. The bed seems too big, too lonely without you in it. What are we going to do?”

“Maybe, ye can, if ye dinna have plans, maybe ye can spend the weekend with me?”

She chuckled softly, “No. I don’t have any plans. It’s a date. I’ll make the arrangements for Ginger.”

“That’s great, Sassenach.” He hesitated not wanting to end the call, but knew he should, “Claire, ye need yer sleep. Ye have a big day ahead of ye. Try and get some sleep. I’ll see ye in the morning.”

“You’re right. Get some sleep too. You’ll need to be on your toes with the students trailing you about.”

“Aye, yer right,” he laughed. “They always have a lot of questions.”

“Jamie?”

“Aye?”

“I love you.”

“As I do ye. Good night Claire.” Jamie turned on his side, grasped Claire’s pillow,wrapping his arms around it pretending he was holding Claire. He buried his face inhaling her fragrance and promptly fell asleep.

Sighing, Claire turned on her side and buried her nose inside Jamie’s shirt, breathing in the subtle scent of him. Comforted, she fell asleep too.

*********************

STD - Sexually transmitted diseases

bletherskates - gossips, nosy-bodies.

Tapadh leibh, - Thank you. I used the formal expression because Ewan is older than Jamie.

a charaid - Friend

Siusan - no this is not misspelled. It is the Scottish spelling for Susan according to my references and it means lily.

a leannan; m'eudail. - darling

mo chridhe - my heart.

If there is any questions, suggestions, comments or gentle criticisms, please don’t hesitate to leave it. I love hearing from you. I hope you enjoyed this.

#edinburgh to boston #chapter 20 #permanence #outlander fanfiction #My writing #Here Goes Nothing #@scubalass

127 notes · View notes

another-dra-anew · 3 years

Text

Chapter 1: Behind the Scenes!

To celebrate the end of Chapter 1, have some behind the scenes info! From various fun facts, screenshots from my working process, to explanations for how I worked out the trial, and snippets of conversations had with people who have spoilers.

Under the cut, to keep from spoiling anyone!

Fun Facts

-I only thought of the detail regarding Kurokawa fighting back (the spilled brown sugar) as I was writing that post! I just figured it would be nice to add in, and helpful to show later that Kurokawa was attacked in the Dining Hall -The exorcism scene would’ve actually happened, and I did briefly plan it, but I figured it may raise too many death flags, and just didn’t end up working it into my post schedule. Also, Maeda’s pendant he receives from Kurokawa in the prologue is based off of one of my own! -You were supposed to receive a gift from Kurokawa when her body is found, in the post stating that we’ve entered Deadly Life, but I forgot to include it when writing said post... Future gifts will be given when a student dies! For now though, they both get lumped in at the end of Nzo4s post -Speaking of Nzo4, I wonder why they were bleeding that much, and why we don’t seem to have had a casualty out of the thirteen members of current cast!

Post Schedule

Aforementioned briefly in section above, Fun Fact two! I use this minimal post schedule to organize how things will go in order of how many FTEs, Maedas general schedule, when my events are, etc etc! It’s helpful to have that as a reminder, especially when I’m writing Maeda’s selections for where he’ll go! Look at what I had for Chapter 1 at the very end!

Victim + Culprit

In most Beta drafts, Kurokawa actually lived to the end, or at least Chapter 4! Once I had her and Inori set to die in Chapter 1 though, that stayed the same, even as minor revisions were made. Kurokawa was generally set as traitor, or was up to something strange, even taking canon Kisaragis place at one point, while Inori just rotated as I needed her too- she was Chapter 3 killer for a bit though. Chapter 1 was the very first chapter I finalized for who would die, the others continued to shift around some, but once I had this one down the way it is now, I was finished!

Case

Did anyone notice Maeda’s lie that got uncaught? He claimed everyone had given their alibi, and only a few were verifiable- but we never asked Higa or Mekaru about their alibis. There was originally a scene wherein Tsurugi returned to his room, which would help prove his innocence later, as Tomori accompanied him, and didn’t see any guns. I made numerous mini post schedules throughout the trial trying to outline just what I’d do next, but I ended up deviating from all- at one point, you’d have had the first rebuttal showdown against Yamaguchi,

Motive

I figured it’d be fun to put a spin on the typical “Oh noooo, your loved one” motive; the motive was specifically designed to target Inori, as she was while not the one most likely to solve murders, the one most likely to prevent a death, due to her medical skills. Other characters are decent at First-Aid, but Inori stands alone as the sole person equipped to fix, let’s say, a stab to the spine, or to the lung. Here’s the full list of who everyone saw in their videos! Sibling(s): Maeda, Kurokawa, Maki, Uehara, Yamaguchi, Iranami Friend(s): Mekaru, Taira, Parent(s): Otori, Higa, Full family: Tsurugi, Kobashikawa, Tomori, Hatano No one: Inori

Execution Tidbits

The title (Adam of Loving Labor) is inspired by a line from Frankenstein! “I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel.” The original execution concept for Inori involved her operating on herself, being told that if she could save a certain amount of peoples lives, she’d be able to leave, having made up for what she had done, but she’d have to provide her own blood, organs, etc, in order to do it: However, upon removing the needed parts, it’d be revealed that she’d only help create more humanoid Monokumas. After an attempt to run while still extremely weak, she’d die of blood loss, and collapse, before being discarded of in some sort of way, with her corpse left to stay there, no one caring to come get her and mourn, showing how she was truly just disposable (in her view.) My decision to re-include Inori being operated on/having her organs used was really last minute- as I was finishing up her motive video post. For months, it would’ve ended with her dying as patient pushed her, due to wounds she had sustained while operating on him.

Quotes

From when it was thought Tsurugi was dead: “BRUH” “tfw everyone likes the optimism twink more than u so u try and get them all killed by killing him first” minor gore/head/brain trauma tw, in italics, skip whats italicized if that’d trigger you!: “haruhiko stomped on tsurugis head with his boots, thats what caused the wound” “how * stomp* dare * stomp* you * stomp* beat * stomp* teruya * stomp* you * stomp* bitch * stomp stomp stomp*" “haru walkin round the halls with tsurugi brain matter on his gucci boots “ all from one person - “shaFUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK /// AHHHHHH /// TSU!!!!!!!!!! /// FUCK YOU. IVE GENUINELY NEVER BEEN SO CRUSHED BY A CHARACTER DEATH BEFORE When it was discovered he was alive “MY SWEET BOY? HEZ ALIVE” “HE NEEDS HELP BUT IF WE GO WHAT IF HE DIES ALONE WAAA” “i was originally gonna post the "tsu is fucking dead" post and then the investigation post right after it but. decided a few hours of pain is good for the soul”

Misc

I’ll take note of some more of these to include next time, but a line from Tsurugi, vs what it was when I was drafting the post, and didn’t write it out in full: Tsurugi - Hey, can everyone stop for a sec? It’s overwhelming to have that kinda reaction and attention on you, especially when already breaking down. Tsurugi - …Good, good, thank you all! Now, Maeda? You hear me okay? Look at me if you can; you don’t have to make eye contact, just look over here. Versus Tsurugi - maeda. stop being a bitch My favorite characters to write during trial: Inori, Higa, Tomori, Maeda My least favorite characters to write during trial: Tsurugi, Hatano It was nice to explore Inoris dialogue, and how she’d try to subvert the trial to point fingers at someone else, and then setting up the other characters reactions and the like was very fun! I Hate Writing Hatano. I’m stupid and always forget her characterization so she feels bland, and like she doesn’t stand out... I redesigned her some, but right as the trial came to close... Then with Tsurugi, I worried too much about him coming across as a all-knowing character there to save the day.

Screenshots

i actually dont have anymore screenshots whoopsie 3 anywayss be on the lookout for more stuff ™ coming your way soon!

#dra #behind the scenes #dra behind the scenes #spoilers

7 notes · View notes

missorgana · 4 years

Text

your lucky day

pairing: bruce banner/thor, background pepper potts/tony stark

fandom: marvel cinematic universe

rating: general

word count: 4619

warning: swearing

summary: Bruce gets lost in IKEA. Luckily, he finds someone to help him out. (Ikea AU)

(it’s been Months and i’m finally done with this fic!! this is a very belated birthday gift for @nevillelongsbottom i really hope you like this legend 💕 uwu also thank you to @dykeacademias for beta reading u are a lifesaver seriously. hope you all enjoy this mess!!)

read on ao3

Doctor Bruce Banner is lost in IKEA.

While he certainly didn’t expect to find himself in this position, he can appreciate the comedy in it.

But Bruce is lost. Seriously, utterly lost.

The reason for him to even be in IKEA in the first place is simply Tony and Pepper convincing him to accompany them.

Yes, it might seem strange for a soon-to-be married couple to invite just the one friend along to look at furniture for the apartment they scored.

He’s gotten used to their shenanigans by now. Doesn’t mean he still didn’t lift an eyebrow, though.

“We need your help, Bruce, please?” his best friend asked him, and Tony knows that pleading face doesn’t work on him, but still, he wants them to be happy, you know?

In fact, both of them had that matching face on, because they’re perfect for one another, and he’s got this sense of guilt, and nerve in him, because honestly, he’s clueless as to why they’re choosing him for assistance.

He’s always been a nervous person.

Bruce figures an extra pair of hands would be helpful. And it’s not like he’s weak, wouldn’t call himself bulky either, but he can carry his fair amount.

It seemed like his friends might want his input on things as well, judging by the catalogue on they’d put in front of him on the coffee table, with dog-eared pages all around.

“I’m not really good with design and all, fair warning.” he’d said with an awkward chuckle, but Pepper showcased no worry.

“Don’t stress about it, okay? We just need you to decide for us when we disagree on something. You’re a darling.”

“You don’t really disagree on stuff, though.”

Tony blinked at him, “Have you met us?”

Really, the car ride was pleasant, and he loves them to pieces, but Bruce soon got Tony’s point once they were moving through the store, and not more than ten minutes in was forced to judge the lamps his best friends couldn’t seem to decide on.

It’s a month til their wedding, and they’re already acting like an old married couple.

And honestly, the lamps in question looked more or less the same to him, but he didn’t say that, because Pepper had a compelling argument about the placement and size of them, and Tony had to go with the majority, after all.

Regardless, he didn’t have to listen to their bickering for long, which he couldn’t decide if he found heartwarming, amusing or tiring, because somewhere between the kitchen and the office sections, Bruce lost sight of the couple.

Well, that wasn’t ideal.

Truth be told, he was distracting himself with a phone call, and left them looking at paint samples.

And Bruce figured they moved along without him. So it can’t really be his fault, right?

Or maybe they’re lost somewhere else too, who knows.

Thing is, Bruce has been searching this floor for close to half an hour, and now that he’s finally decided to move upstairs, to try his luck, let’s just say he’d really like to meet whoever designed this floor plan.

In fact, after roaming for another ten minutes, he has to admit he’s not sure where the escalators are located anymore.

Maybe he’s walking in circles. How is this even possible?

Honestly, it’s starting to get ridiculous when Bruce finds himself at the plant section, with little idea of how he got there, and also, since when has IKEA got a plant section?

Tony’s told him more than once that he needs to ‘get into the loop’ and ‘not live under a rock’, which really just means his friend has been begging him to start a twitter account.

Especially when he says some pun that’s not even that funny, and Tony laughs almost so hard he can’t breathe.

He can’t say he doesn’t appreciate that support, and confidence boost, though.

Anyway, there must be, like, a map of this floor, or a help desk, right?

Bruce is more or less dumbfounded, stepping out of the way for an elderly couple who are eagerly making their way towards the floor plants, and decides looking out for an IKEA employee might be his best option right now.

Yes, he did actually send Pepper a text, he’d not that out of the loop, but he’s getting no response, and besides, it might help him more if he had an idea of how to not be stuck in all this gardening interior.

But of course, as his luck has it, and Bruce swears he usually looks out for where he’s going, he very nearly smashes a vase that seemingly appeared out of thin air.

He’s in no way a religious person, but Jesus Christ.

Some luck he does have, as if sent like a prayer, when he spots an incredibly tall figure clad in a yellow and blue striped shirt.

And since their back is turned, Bruce figures he’ll politely tap their shoulder and ask for some guidance in a way that doesn’t sound as stupid as it does in his own head.

Good plan.

Or it would be, if he hadn’t tapped said shoulder, and said person turned around, and Bruce stepped back a little and might’ve smashed something for real.

So this has to confirm that he is, indeed, a nervous person, he guesses, because the vision of the stranger is enough to intimidate the doctor.

Well, intimidate sounds like fear, and that’s definitely not it.

Let’s just say this IKEA employee is a head taller, maybe more, who knows, than Bruce, and aforementioned yellow and blue striped uniform is a polo shirt sitting impossibly tighter than he can imagine it’s supposed to.

They’re well trained, to say the least.

In fact, this stranger’s broad shoulders might be launching him into a mental breakdown, and nope, he can’t be freaking out in an IKEA store because someone working there is, seriously, unexplainably attractive.

They even got their blond hair put up in a bun, for real.

And now, Bruce doesn’t really know how to process this encounter, and how to pretend the internal freaking out didn’t just happen, but luckily, real luck this time, the stranger gives him an easy smile on a silver platter.

Thank his non-existent Gods for customer service.

“Careful there, buddy. What can I help you with?”

The voice is soft and gruff at the same time, Bruce doesn’t really know what it is about it, but it’s… that.

His eyes quickly search for nametag, finding it easily on the employee’s (just as broad) chest, which he doesn’t really have the mind to overthink right now, but seriously, this person might just live in a fitness center.

And said nametag showcases Thor, accompanied by My pronouns are he/him.

Of course this giant of a man is named Thor. Bruce can’t even be surprised, really.

His mind manages to circulate back to the fact that he asked you a question, dammit, and the scientist almost stutters out, “I apologise, I, uh, for my clumsiness.”

Thor simply shrugs, staying silent, and seemingly, letting Bruce collect himself and continue.

“And yes, I, eh, was going to ask for your help. My current situation might be slightly embarrassing, however.” he tells him, finally, Bruce nags himself internally, with a small smile he cannot imagine is anything other than awkward.

And the Greek God-esque man in front of him, Bruce should really stop these God-related equations, anyway, chuckles softly in a way he can’t quite believe comes from a man twice the size of himself.

“I doubt it’s anything I haven’t heard before.” Thor, he remembers, tells him, and takes a quick glance behind him, before continuing, “You know how many customers inquire me about watering fake plants?”

And yeah, Bruce has to smile, a little, because he can imagine, and he supposes that remark did relax him about this situation, to some extent.

Not that he still doesn’t think he’s blushing, or fidgeting with his fingers, but this man’s probably used to that right?

Bruce is careful in his thought, because Thor’s most likely been objectified before, and it’s never anything the doctor wants to do, it’s just that this man might as well have walked out of one of his daydreams.

The tall man’s got this easy smile on his face and Bruce thinks he might be going crazy.

What’s gone into him?

To get out of his head, he chuckles just slightly, appreciating Thor attempting, at least, to make him less embarrassed, and, “Well, I- judging by the floor plan, you might’ve gotten this before, I don’t know. I have to admit I’m sort of lost.”

The man in front of him easily chuckles as well, nodding eagerly, resembling some sort of excitement just for a moment, “Oh, tell me about it! Honestly, took me a month before I knew the way around in here.”

Suddenly, Thor doesn’t look like a figment of the doctor’s imagination, but rather, cute in a way Bruce has never thought of men with his physique before.

As established before, these types of encounters, the rare he’s had, makes him a nervous wreck, and not in any way likely to flirt, which, in this case, would be highly uncomfortable for who his attention is devoted to, so it’s definitely for the best his skills are not brushed up upon.

That is, judging by his recent history of romantic relationships, or lack thereof.

He did come out of a long term one and got his heart terribly broken, but that was more than four years ago, and Tony and Pepper had his back, of course, helped him pick up the pieces.

Anyway, let’s just say he hasn’t been eager with going back to the dating market, which he hates calling it but nevertheless, he’s standing in an IKEA, and he really should think about getting back to his friends and not ponder over his mended heart and nonexistent chances with a man who’s, obviously, only this smiling and calm because he’s told to.

Get a grip, Bruce, you have a phd, for science and the modern world’s sake.

He’s quick to realize he needs to pay attention, now, because surely, he can keep his nerves under control for this. Seriously, he must.

“Where did you come from?” the tall man asks him, and it’s only now Bruce notices the cart next to him.

Typical of him to interrupt a dreamy man, not just standing around, but in the middle of a task, really.

He doesn’t usually swear, but fan-fucking-tastic, as Tony would say.

This embarrassment is going to move to the back of his mind, sooner or later, and so he adjust his glasses on his nose, most typical nervous sign really, and ventures on in the conversation.

“First floor, you see, eh…” and Bruce has to chuckle at himself, again, trying to minimize the eye contact with the tall stranger as much as possibly, which, really, shouldn’t be hard considering their height difference, “I lost sight of my friends, and well, here I am.”

Thor nods solemnly, in a way, like he finds this a completely valid reason.

“Okay, this is standard procedure, really, trust me,” he tells him, because apparently Bruce’s demeanor really is obvious, and it’s almost he’s reassuring him, “What section you think they’d wander off to?”

Well, this question boggles the doctor, because he’s not sure at all.

He does know those two like the back of his mind, but also, they went from browsing lamps, to scented candles, to desk chairs, to wall decor that looked like it was taken straight out of a stock photo search on Google.

Dammit, just give the man an answer! In the end, Bruce’s guess is as good as any, he guesses, and maybe Thor’s got some professional IKEA input, too.

And so he clears his throat and replies, “Can I be honest? They’re kind of weirdos, so, not easy. That’s a good thing, though! They’re newly engaged and took me here to help them find new decor, so…”

“Ah! The neutral third part when disagreements occur, I assume?”

This man’s got a certain pitch in his voice, like someone straight out of film school, Bruce wants to say, like he spent many days on learning Shakespeare plays by heart.

He’s not very versed on theater, himself, he’s only become familiar with this kind of voice by Brunnhilde. Once she’d broke through, he noticed what it was about her tone, and really, it barely changed at all.

It’s like she was born for it, which sounds like an old Hollywood drama, but there you go.

Maybe something about the way she carried herself helped, he supposed, but he still can’t anymore of a finger on it than that.

It smoothes out the voice in certain way. He imagines they know a lot of poetry, those actors.

She told him she’d been to voice coaches and such, besides auditioning, and demonstrated for him time and time again when she needed help practising, and Carol wasn’t available.

Maybe he’s an aspiring actor as well, or something similar, but it’s not like Bruce can ponder on this right now. Sometimes he feels like his brain’s got a life of its own, at least working at double speed.

“Hit the nail on the head, as you say, heh.”

Thor nods once more, and he latches onto this aforementioned cart, which appears fully loaded, and well, Bruce can admire the strength in his forearms, right?

Totally normal. It’s cool, Doctor Banner, you’re being real slick about this.

“Say, I’m not in any way experienced with reading people- or well, tracking them down, I suppose.” the God-like man told him - really, these God comparisons gotta stop - with what he hopes is a lighthearted chuckle, damn, he’s trained well with that smile overpowering most of his features.

Thor continues, “The cafeteria’s pretty much a meeting spot in cases like this, I mean, if it’s of any help to go there?”

Bruce just can’t help smiling back, can he? In any case, it’s becoming more natural for him now, less strained, the man fading less from an otherworldly state and more to quietly admirable.

“That would be lovely. I fear I might disappear from the surface of the earth completely if I keep wandering around like this.”

Right, tell a joke, they’re both laughing, it’s fine. Stop staring Bruce, you’ve thought about how tall he is a million times by now, really?!

In less than a second, the cart’s turned around, and Thor removes a strand of blond hair from his hair, before he starts moving, dear God, is he a marathon runner or something?

“The elevator’s by here, somewhere, don’t worry, I got this.” he tells the doctor, as if he ever doubted his ability in any way, and Thor did quickly realize his pace, slowing down at the first corner, allowing the shorter man to catch up.

“No offense, but this place is a goddamn maze.” Bruce says, slightly surprised when they make it the elevator, like it’s a secret land he would’ve never found on his own. Luckily, Thor’s still not fazed.

Chuckling, still. You got this under control, Bruce. Somehow.

The cafeteria’s queue is abnormally long, the soda has definitely been sitting out for a while, the meatballs are steaming hot.

There’s too much noise for Bruce’s liking, but he doesn’t really have much choice of where to go right now.

But today still holds surprises, clearly.

The doctor expressed his gratitude to Thor for leading him this way, which really was hilariously easy now that he thinks about it, but you know, the elevator was actually hidden away, so.

It’s not like he can justify it for himself anymore, so he’ll just give up on it.

The thing is, Bruce in no way expected the handsome stranger to help him anymore so than guiding him here. Only when they stand in the foyer, looking out at the many sterile white tables for customers to have their lunch at, he tells him to stay where he is.

Well obviously, he might get lost again, and there’s no way he wants a second wave of embarrassment right now. But also, surely, Thor has to keep going with whatever business he’s doing?

It seems the man notices Bruce’s scrunched brow, since he dishes out further explanation a few seconds later, “I have to bring this down to storage. It only takes five minutes, trust me!”

Bruce can’t say he expected that. He doesn’t have time to answer, anyway, because Thor once again picks up a pace as if he’s running for his life, and is gone before he knows it.

Guess he’ll stay put. Guess he’ll try to not stand awkwardly around as mothers and children and students are milling around him. It’s easier said than done.

Luckily, because damn, that thing really is with him today, huh?

Well, a minor misadventure, which led him to luck. That could mean something, but Bruce can’t think of that much, because, luckily , just as the fidgeting returns for, like, the 20th time, his phone buzzes in his backpocket.

Of course, Pepper’s texting him now, thank god , because he might go out and trip over himself if that Greek God himself returns, which, conveniently, he does as that moment.

It’s almost like he’s smiling even more now, if that’s even possible.

And he watches Thor wipe sweat off of his forehead with one eye, replies back to Pepper with an urgency, and she’s calm, because she manages to do that in almost any situation, she’s gotten used to Tony, after all, and lets them know his location.

“Hey, buddy!” the tall man comes to a stop, puts both his hands on his hips and shoots a look toward the bustling queue, which, after all, is significantly shorter now, they all work quickly around here, huh.

“You hear from your friends?” he continues his sentence, maybe because Bruce doesn’t know what to answer and he’s freaking out, maybe because he’s simply curious. It’s a 50/50, really.

Again, he really should stop thinking of a million things at once, and nods instead, and now, for some reason, Thor’s got them drinks and a table, kindly offering to wait with Bruce till Tony and Pepper’s finished with their shopping.

Well, he doesn’t offer as much as tells him, makes his way to the queue even though the doctor was about to refuse, but the deed is done, anyway, and he appreciates it.

Bruce does wonder the tall man’s going to get in trouble, though. Surely, hanging out with a customer can’t be allowed?

“You know, uh, you don’t have to wait with me.” he can’t help chuckling awkwardly, because everything he does becomes awkward around Thor, who seems so easy going, it’s insane, “I don’t want you to get in trouble with your boss.”

The stranger, or, not really a stranger anymore, he supposes, is eating like he hadn’t breakfast, which does worry Bruce, but he shakes his head and gulps down some more soda before he speaks.

“Oh no, it’s fine. I was overdue for a lunch break, anyway.”

And he can’t help but just shrug.

A small smile isn’t totally awkward, right? This is fine. Just two dudes hanging out. Thor’s on his goddamn lunch break, he’s working , Bruce, what did you expect?

“Besides, don’t tell anyone I said this, but the conversations my coworkers usually engage in are, um,” he turns his head, and nope, only customers in sight for now, surely those behind the counter can’t hear what he wants to say, “rather dull.”

Okay, he has to laugh a little bit. Because Thor’s laughing, that is.

He’s kind of, sort of, insulting someone, but he’s being so incredibly nice about it. As nice as possible.

And now, he’s totally not watching him, come on, they’re having a conversation, this man seems to be fidgeting now.

In a different way than Bruce, surely, kind of like an excited labrador who’s owner just come home after a two week vacation.

It’s cute. Shut up, he can find him cute, not only teenagers say that, right?

Bruce is feeling like a teenager, seeing some jock in a varsity jacket walking down the hall, every student eager to just have him look at you, just once. Maybe he’s been there before. He barely knows this man, keep it together!

Him beating up himself is interrupted by Thor, again, “Do you mind if I am a tiny bit nosy?”

The doctor blinks. “I guess it depends on what topic we’re discussing.”

Thor gulps some more soda. Bruce truly has to wonder if IKEA feeds their employees at all.

“Right! Right. I just thought, since you know my name, you know, I might be allowed to ask your name.”

And another surprise. More shock, maybe. Definitely not what he expected him to ask, but what did he expect, really?

Bruce does smile, and it’s like, okay, this is casual, it’s like the customer service barrier is a bit broken down now, “Of course. It’s Bruce.”

Thor nods again, excitedly. Excited about everything.

And he’s not usually like this, but this man’s attitude is sort of rubbing off on him. Weird.

“What do you do, Bruce?” and Thor’s constantly removing strands of hair from that worn out bun, “Other than being a good friend, that is.”

Now why does he have to go and compliment him? It’s thrown out like it’s nothing, like it’s easy, and his self hatred won’t let him say it’s easy, but he takes it, because it seems like Thor means it. He hopes so, anyway.

He does laugh, to keep a little distance, “Uh, well, I’m a professor.”

Bruce doesn’t exactly like to advertise, and shout out to the world about his PhDs. No, he’s proud of his work, don’t get him wrong.

But he doesn’t feel particularly impressive compared to some of his role models, who progressed faster than himself, and anyway, he isn’t great with compliments. As is obvious from this conversation.

Needless to say, if this man gets anymore excited, he might just explode in front of him.

“Holy shit,” he blurts, he assumes, because oh, how the tables turned, when the embarrassment Bruce has been feeling is mirrored on Thor’s face, “oh, dear God, sorry for my language. But I love that. I’m afraid I’m just an actor.”

So, he guessed right, he notes. Doesn’t really know what do with that assumption.

“That’s not really a just, is it?”

He shrugs.

They’re both too humble for their own good, in the end, Bruce thinks. At least Thor is only slightly visibly upset when he brushes off the compliments, or at least, tries to signal to his new acquaintance that his work really isn’t that big of a deal.

He does tell him more details when Thor asks, of course, he’s always been relatively polite, hopefully, but Bruce has never been good at not comparing himself to others, as you might’ve guessed.

“That is a big deal, though!” the tall man says, sounding more sincere than anyone Bruce has ever met, “You are brilliant.”

He’s not blushing. Not at all, except he is, a little bit, anyway, “I mean, I- thank you. We’ve only still just me, though.”

“I can tell. And we shouldn’t underestimate ourselves. I’m still learning that, as you can tell.”

Of course, he’s right. Of course, this man encourages a relative stranger to be confident. Of course, it’s lovely.

And this conversation goes on forever, which probably isn’t realistic, he’s aware, but well, Bruce is getting comfortable.

It’s stupid, he shouldn’t, he knows.

But this man is so friendly. Endearing. And he has to think, honestly, how can anyone not immediately be drawn to him?

Thor does tell a lot of kind of ridiculous jokes. That’s endearing too, dammit.

Also, maybe, Bruce wants to spit out his soda when the half God, half man asks him for scientifically related pick up lines. He doesn’t, of course, he’s not an animal.

This can be restrained, sure, and it’s not like his new… friend means anything by it. Really, this is just a once in a lifetime acquaintance. Probably never going to see each other again.

But it’s a fun run.

Maybe he should just thank his lucky stars for this. Maybe Bruce should just get his head out of his ass and go on an actual date, instead of getting nervous about someone in a goddamn furniture store.

Thing is, this nice time ends far too quickly, not soon after the doctor’s almost, completely relaxed, as much excitement as this one man contains, it soothes his nerves. That’s ridiculous, isn’t it?

At least, it’s like Thor can tell how embarrassed he is, and cancels it out by telling embarrassment stories of his own.

Or spilling ketchup on his uniform button up, newly washed, even. Bruce would feel bad for finding it a little funny, if the man didn’t laugh at himself and smack himself in the head.

The self awareness is admirable. The doctor still doesn’t laugh, because he’s just, God, way too empathetic. He feels bad for him.

But yes, it does end, because Tony’s familiar exclaim of “Brucie!” wakes him up from whatever dumb haze this is.

No more time to get lost in this impossible relation. Sadly.

Of course, his friends’ cart is filled to the brim. They have a bag, too.

Pepper rushes for a hug, because she’s a sweetheart and worries too much, as usual, “Thank God! Oh Bruce, I feel terrible we lost you.”

And he pats her shoulder in reassurance, chuckles, casts a glimpse to Thor, who’s standing there like an overgrown puppy, assuming they’ll part ways soon, “I got by, thankfully.”

Indeed he did. After a small exchange not much time passes before Thor has to go back to work (really, how long of a break is he allowed?) Bruce wonders, because surely more than half an hour must’ve gone by.

And the doctor thanks him for the help for the millionth time, like the other times weren’t enough, but he appreciates it, and whatever this relation is, but he doesn’t mention that last part, of course.

The blond man is humble again. Of course.

And, of course, Tony teases him for about the whole car ride to Bruce’s flat about how he ‘was saved by a tall handsome stranger’, and he ‘should’ve made a move, surely’.

It’s not like he disagrees with the savior part.

Pepper shakes her head along with him.

Maybe, for once, Tony’s right about something, to his credit, because Bruce spent a lot of time convincing him, and himself, that the man was just being polite when offering to wait with him.

And the conversation, too, as genuine as it felt.

Needless to say, the slip of notepad paper with the Ikea logo on tip that the doctor finds in his jacket pocket a day late, written on in what might be the most pleasing handwriting he’s seen in a while, was surprising.

There's also a phone number.

This is breaking all the protocols, and I am terrified that you will be offended, I sincerely apologise if so, I in no way want to make you uncomfortable.

I did enjoy our conversation very much. I would also enjoy the opportunity to see you again, if you agree, perhaps with other surroundings than Swedish furniture.

Sincerely, Thor (from IKEA).

Maybe he types the number into his phone. Maybe he calls it right away.

Of course, Tony doesn’t need to know that right now.

49 notes · View notes