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bangtanlalaland · 4 years

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falcon | jjk 01 (m.)

synopsis ⇣ Jungkook Jeon, known as “Falcon,” unites with his best friend to rebel against the twisted, dominant system of the city, Python, until everything changes when he crosses paths with one of many enemies.

— dystopia au; enemies to lovers au

⇢pairing: free runner!jeon jungkook x detective!female reader ⇢featuring: free runner!park jimin, free runner!kim namjoon, free runner!min yoongi & police captain!jung hoseok

⇢genre: angst, fluff, smut

⇢word count: 12.2k

⇢contents ⨯ warnings: (this fic is totally inspired by mirror’s edge), there’s isn’t any smut in this chapter (but there will be in future chapters), slow burn, some fluff in there, so much dialogue (it’s literally a MOVIE), some violence, some blood, some death, swearing lots of action (oops), fighting, free-running, lots & lots of drama (srsly get your popcorn ready), mentions of premonitions, major plot twists, infidelity (sorta?), mentions of sex, some sope action (yes i said it), namgi is also a thing (oop), basically jungkook is a rebel & proud, jimin is very clever (like woah), namjoon is a leader & sweetheart (as always), yoongi is a bad guy (¿woahhh did we expect that?) hoseok is a fuckboi (i’m sorry ugh :(((), also viper in this story is actually taehyung (oop), police stuff (duh), lots of bi stuff going on here, (much love for the lgbtq community)

artwork poster by: @hellenys

song rec: “falcon” by jaden smith

a/n: woah! so this is yet another wip that I’ve had for so long. I’ve made the decision to make this a series! (or maybe a two-shot) still not 100% sure yet, but I am honestly beyond relieved to finally release this. also a huge thank you to @hellenys for the artwork! I was actually inspired to start writing falcon after seeing her work. (specifically the photo above^) so you guys go check her out, her artwork is amazing!

Smack.

The sound of your boss dropping a chunky stack full of vanilla colored folders onto your desk, in your cubicle, startles your attention from sipping your now third afternoon dose of coffee. You swear he has been on your ass ever since you stepped foot into the clouded atmosphere of the police department. You were convinced you’re in Hell. Literally.

He eagerly spills, “These missing persons reports aren’t going to solve themselves. I can’t even step out for a $5 burger at that fast food shit place down the street without the press breathing down my neck about the citizens’ missing loved ones.”

You sigh for what has been the one thousandth time today so far. Going on one thousand-one. This city has been getting worse as the days go by, missing persons reports dating as far as 10 years back, maybe more if you really dig deep in there. Runners scatter the rooftops of the city, yet you and your entire team were left with zero leads. And your boss was right; the press was constantly nagging like a toddler at the age of two. Yet you and your tiny team were responsible for getting hands dirty and finding answers. And here he goes yet again…

“Contact the victims families. See if there’s any new information they could give us. Just in case. Over time, victims may remember details they happened to leave out- ” The phone for the department rings on your desk, and you hold your index finger up as if to politely ask your boss to shut his damn mouth so you can answer the phone.

“Python Police Department.” Your face grows concerned, mouthing to your boss: “Missing Person.” He throws his hands up and shakes his head in response, waiting for your departure from the phone. The elderly woman seemed borderline upset, but mostly depressed. As if all the life that was once in her was drained completely. After reassuring you will find answers, you hang up and turn to face your boss.

“It was a lady named Mrs. Jeon. She wants to follow up on the case for her son. Jungkook?” You say, more so as a question rather than a statement, in hopes that you pronounced his name correctly. Your boss nods in approval, clearly knowledgeable of who you’re talking about.

“Yeah she calls here at least one or twice a week saying the same thing over and over again,” he pauses momentarily then starts, “I remember that kid. He was in high school when his mother reported him missing,” he continues while shaking his head.

“I’ll never forget the day dispatch called me out there to see what was going on. This was back in my rookie detective days. At first I thought maybe he’s just playing hooky. Happens all the time, right?” You nod in agreement. You’d heard of his name before but never looked into it, considering you’d just been promoted 4 months ago. And for the first month, you’d only been sent to canvas witnesses. Although sadly, Jungkook is simply one among hundreds if not thousands of cases that have gone cold.

He continues, “But then, we checked the grid and his chip was gone. We didn’t get any alerts about its removal, so it was definitely shocking.”

“That doesn’t make sense. What do you mean it was gone?” You ask with crossed arms.

“Well, more like the grid showed that the chips’ location was his home. Obviously, he isn’t home and we searched the house. No chip.” He pauses for a moment as if processing what he’s about to say, “Someway, somehow, he removed himself from the grid. But, he wasn’t the only one.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I reassured Mrs. Jeon that if he didn’t show up in two days then we could file a missing persons report. She insisted that something was wrong and didn’t want to wait two days. But she had no other choice, and so she filed the report and days turned into weeks, months, and years.”

“How long?” You question.

With a sigh he replies, “Five.”

“No wonder she’s calling.”

“I know. But that’s the weirdest thing about it. As I mentioned, Jungkook wasn’t the only one with a missing chip.” He reassures with a sigh of what you assume is exhaustion.

“And?”

Your boss squints his eyes, as if he’s thinking.

“Follow me.”

He leads you to the “Cold Cases” room. It looks almost like a library, but instead of children books it’s several cases from murders to runaways — where endless amounts of evidence, files, reports, and other tangible items are stored. He scrambles through a pull out drawer of folders labeled and sectioned off in alphabetical order. He then pulls out a vanilla folder, and opens the file, revealing a photo of a young teen with dark, brown hair and plump, pink lips.

“Mrs. Park. Mother of Jimin Park. She filed a missing persons report the same day Mrs. Jeon did. They actually came together. And apparently they live on the same street.” He states while exiting the room and striding you into his office.

You inquire, trying to catch up to his quick pace. “So what are you implying?”

“I think…” he trails off, placing the folder on top of his desk and flopping into his office seat. “Jungkook and Jimin decided to drop out of school and run away in the sunset together.”

“And why would you assume that?”

“Well, let’s talk about the runners that run the rooftops. I know you’re still trying to get the hang of things, but there’s a pattern with this.”

“Okay?” You more-so question, rather than stating.

“First things first. Their chips. Runners always remove them, except we get alerts when done so.” He pauses. Of course you’re aware of the misdemeanor charge for that, right?” You nod in a “yes” gesture.

“Good. So, first they remove the chips. Second, they completely vanish. No one sees them for good and has no knowledge of where they are. It’s like they never existed, right? Families, friends, co-workers or whoever they know don’t see them anymore.”

You nod again, catching along. “Mmhmm.”

“Then, a missing persons report is filed. Either by a relative or a close friend. With that being said, it only makes sense that Jungkook and Jimin would be close together at least. I mean surely if Mrs. Park filed a report with Mrs. Jeon then couldn’t they both have known each other? Or at least had some knowledge of the relationship their sons had with one another? And again, the chips. Surely, they were in this together, and there’s not one part of me that doubts it.”

You take a deep sigh, soaking this information in, “Makes sense.”

“Look,” he says, while moving closer to you, stuffing his hands in his pockets. You gaze upon him, admiring the beauty mark on the left side of his top lip. His chocolate waves crown his face.

“What I’m trying to say is- If you find one of them, chances are you’ll find the other. Just… please be careful, ____. If these guys can suddenly vanish off the grid without a trace, who knows what else they’re capable of?”

Meanwhile, Jimin barges into a hideout on a rooftop (now part of an abandoned building) far into the city, but enough distance from prying eyes. He’s panting, out of breath, sweating and bent over as he removes his earpiece, swiping the perspiration from his forehead with the back of his hand. He runs his fingers through his jet, black strands. The sun slightly scorched his once pale cheeks, resulting in a rosy, pink shade.

“Fuck!”

Namjoon removes his headset and arises from his seat in the area that he and his mates have labelled as “coms,” having hacked into the city’s surveillance system.

“Good job, Phoenix. Water?” He asks, while offering Jimin a sip of his bottled water, before downing it completely.

“Fuck, no. I almost fucking died!” Jimin replies, still panting.

“Relax. You’re alive, aren’t you?” Namjoon retorts nonchalantly.

He crushes his plastic bottle and lunges it toward Jungkooks slumped figure over the couch nearby. He grunts in response, jerking up in his sleep. Being on the run for the past 5 years has only caused him to be as alert as a hawk.

“You’re up next, Falcon.” Jungkook shakes his head, gaining consciousness of his surroundings again. His black tank top and white nylon sweats having stuck to his form. His milk, chocolate strands blanket his face as he sits up, rubbing his eyes. The faint sunlight helps to awaken him from his slumber, as he covers his eyes to adjust to the sunrays. Jimin, who now has gained his breath back, flings his earpiece at Jungkook.

“Blue lights are heavy today. Watch your ass, huh?” With that, Jungkook stretches upward while placing the earpiece on. On his way towards the tiny kitchen area, Namjoon keys into the channel.

“Thunderbird for Falcon.” Jungkook gulps his banana milk and returns the carton to its place in the fridge. Wiping his mouth to rid the milk residue, he responds, “Go for Falcon.”

“I’m sure you probably don’t want to hear this. But it’s time for a test run.”

Jungkook is silent, yet internally screaming. He hates test runs. Who doesn’t though?

“I know what you’re thinking. I’ve told you before that one time won’t count. But, I need to calculate your momentum, and it helps tremendously to compare to your previous test runs.” Jungkook wasn’t worried about speed, but more so about his body. The last time he’d done a test run, he had completely passed out from overworking his body. Namjoon couldn’t leave the hideout, given that blue lights were everywhere and he didn’t want to risk not having anyone watching over the place. Luckily Jimin was already out for a run, and decided to take a detour to rescue his best friend. But, Jungkook does not like to fail. In fact, he despises it. He’s afraid that he’d fail. Again. He takes a deep breath.

“I know you can do it. The advantage now is that you actually got rest.” Jungkook couldn’t help but nod in agreement. He knew the last time he was going non-stop and being the stubborn bunny he is, Namjoon warned him more than once that he’d burnout sooner or later. But that’s the conflict with Jungkook. He grew complacent of being on the run constantly. It’s his life now; he hates the society he lives in and refuses to live according to the systems’ standards.

“Copy that, Thunderbird.” Jungkook responds, his arms and hands flexing, veins popping, as he slips on his neon red fingerless gloves. He pulls the straps of his black mask over and behind his ears — completely concealing most of his face.

Namjoon smiles in response, “That’s what I like to hear! Let’s bring that energy to the test, Falcon.”

Back at the station, you step out of your formal addression towards your boss and slip, “Hobi, I’ll be fine.”

“I know, I just can’t see myself losing you. You know how much you mean to me, right?” He asks, while reaching his hand towards your cheek with the intent to caress you but your reflexes immediately catch on, and you turn the opposite direction while muttering under your breath, “You know that we can’t-”

“I know. Sorry.”

A brief moment of silence shares the space between you both. Hoseok Jung, or as your recent pet name for him: Hobi, is not only the police captain of the Python Police Department, but currently your main squeeze as well. At least, that’s what you’d like to think. You can’t quite pinpoint what “this” with him is, given that neither of you made it official yet or set any boundaries. Which resulted in this continuous cycle of confusion on where you stand in this said “situationship.” But you don’t probe him, instead you just go with the flow and see where things lead. The only major conflict is that no one at the station should know about your doings. Or else there would be major consequences to face. You suppose that’s why Hoseok is the way he is with you. Maybe you’re nothing but a fling to him. Although some of the things he says deem otherwise.

“Last I heard, his street name is Falcon.” Hoseok skims through a folder on his desk that contains numerous papers, all to what you assumed held important information, then he pulls one out.

“I have a list of coordinates for locations where security cameras are installed and picked up high runner activity. Check those out and see if there are any leads. If no luck, go out and canvas witnesses on the street.” You nod in agreement, gathering your belongings to head on your way when suddenly you feel Hoseok’s grasp on your wrist. You immediately turn your gaze towards him, eyes blown wide as saucers.

“Please, be careful. Call me when you make it to the first and last location.” You eye his grip on you and snatch away quickly, regaining your composure.

“I will,” you respond, while slipping out of his office to leave the building.

On the rooftops, Jungkook gets into position. Staring ahead of himself, he takes a deep breath, awaiting Namjoon’s marker. A tiny droplet of sweat drips down the right side of his face, trailing down to his neck.

“On your mark. Ready.” Jungkook takes another deep breath. The sun suddenly becomes beyond its warm state, at this point, it’s scorching. His palms are damp. The black of his tee absorbs the city’s heat.

“Set.”

His mind goes racing in a million different ways. It was strange that at this moment, his mother crosses his mind. He wondered if she was okay. But, he couldn’t risk seeing her. Exposing himself. Then blue lights would find out, and he’d be done. For good.

No, can’t risk it. No matter how much it hurts.

Since the age of 18, Jungkook called the rooftops his home. Some part of him felt selfish for only thinking of himself and leaving his mother behind. But he knew she would only scold him for rebelling against the system. Therefore, it was imperative that he left. For months, he and Jimin elaborated an escape — consistently backtracking and fixing any errors in their plan.

Unfortunately, plans don’t always go as planned and being just a couple of high school kids, Jungkook and Jimin hadn’t fully thought out the whole “where would we bunk” deal. But, all changed when they reached the rooftops. Although the first two years were literal Hell. Probably part of the reason Jungkook had become too exhausted at the end of it all. It was horrid to run non-stop, stability not being an option. Jungkook and Jimin had several quarrels with other runners. It became a cycle that Jungkook grew weary of:

Getting accepted into a hideout → Developing trust with other runners → Everything feels comfortable now → Someone does something to show their true colors (Runners are out to get each other, despite the consequences. Whether the reward is for money, power, or maybe even freedom) → Jungkook and Jimin realize they can’t trust other runners → In conclusion, they flee → The process repeats

That is, until they met Namjoon. At first, he resisted. He previously had one roommate before that betrayed him, just as other runners betrayed Jimin and Jungkook. He thinks of him sometimes, and he’ll never forget his name. Yoongi Min, who goes by Firebird. Blue lights offered Yoongi a deal: to persuade Namjoon into a trap, at a disclosed location, in return for clearing his own name of all criminal records — freedom. Yoongi had been Namjoon’s roommate for four years, eventually growing close and becoming trustworthy of one another. Even coining each other’s names together, as a team. He always thought he’d take over the city of Python with Yoongi. Thus, that’s why Namjoon took Jungkook and Jimin in; because he saw them as himself and Yoongi, knowing that he would have wanted someone else to do the same for him and his once good friend.

“Go.” And with that, Jungkook powers forward leading with one goal in mind: Fast.

“I want you to head straight as far as you can. Got it?”

“Copy,” Jungkook slips. He starts at a steady pace, sliding under pipes connected to cooling fan systems, and vaulting over fences being sure to avoid high voltage ones. However, his velocity decreases when doing so. Namjoon takes note of that.

“Try to keep a linear direction as much as possible. Jump to the next building, using the metal pipe as a pole.”

Jungkook makes an estimate on how fast he should run to land onto the pole that’s adjacent to the rooftop of the building he’s currently on. He backs away about two meters and plants his feet on the ground, getting into position. His body exerts force and within seconds, Jungkook leaps from the rooftop. His heart dropping to his stomach, silently praying that his calculations were correct; and within seconds he lands onto the metal pole, his toned biceps clinging on for life. The leather gloves he wears grant a better grip on the surface, as he pulls himself upward, finally reaching the rooftop.

“Good job, Falcon. Keep pushing!”

Jungkook heaves, but knows he can’t stop now. He continues to scan his surroundings, taking in the view of the city from his vantage point. The sun still beams within the distance. Glass buildings towering the city, camera drones and lightweight super-jets scattering the sky.

No time for distractions.

Jungkook continues on his path as instructed by Namjoon. Lightly jogging, he rapidly picks up his pace until he takes a quick glance to his right and something catches his eye: a security camera, hanging below a billboard on the current building he stands on. He treads forward, and notices a blue light on the camera that blinks rapidly. He sticks his middle finger up towards the object and makes a swift turn to walk away when suddenly he stops dead in his tracks.

You push open the door to the rooftop access, finally having reached the top of the corporate office building of Cobra Enterprises, the biggest conglomerate in the city. To your surprise, on your left, there stands a man with doe-like eyes and lengthy, coffee-colored strands concealing his face. Your mouth flew agape, realizing that this is your first encounter ever with a runner — his neon red gloves serving as evidence.

“Falcon, what’s going on? I’m picking up a blue light within your perimeter,” Namjoon keys in. Jungkook says nothing, simply eyeing your form. He’d never been in love, and it wasn’t as if he’d recognize love even if it were standing right in front of his face with a big sign that said: “Hey! It’s me. I am love.” It was your essence that gave him an odd feeling. A feeling that intrigued him for some strange reason. But then you flashed that shiny PPD badge, which glistened in the sun, and it caught his attention — instantly sending a wave of discouragement throughout his heart.

“I’m Detective ____ with PPD,” you slip.

“Abort the test run! Get the hell out of there!” Namjoon commands on the other end of Jungkook’s earpiece. You attempt to step closer to the man, but he raises his hand up.

“Don’t come any closer.”

You shake your head, “It’s okay. I-I’m not here to hurt you. I just want to talk, okay?” You reassure while gradually lifting your hands up in the air, as if surrendering to him. He scoffs, obviously not impressed by your coy tactic.

“A blue light wanting to talk? Nah, don’t think so,” he spits while clenching his fists and backing away.

“No, please! I-I-” You suddenly become tongue-tied, as the man evidently runs away out of your sight, leaving you behind. Frozen in place.

That asshole.

Your cell rings conveniently at the right moment.

— Hobi ❤️ [Incoming Call]

You swipe to answer, and can’t even get a “hello” out before Hoseok starts on his shit again.

“Goddammit, ____! I told you to call me when you got to your first location.” He sounds furious, as if you’re his pet on a leash.

“Okay, dad!” You retort, clearly annoyed with him in this moment as you make your way down the exhausting flight of stairs inside the building.

“You know what-” Hoseok runs his fingers through his waves. “My place. 30 minutes.” The sound of a click on the line indicates that he hung up, leaving you with a frustrated temper.

Jungkook storms into the hideout, snatching his mask off of his face. Namjoon rips his headset off, visibly pissed.

“You wanna tell me what the hell happened back there?”

Jungkook scoffs, currently not up for anyone’s shit, as he trails to the fridge to grab his carton of banana milk yet again. Namjoon rolls his eyes while shaking his head. Jungkook releases his lips from the carton and slips, “Nothing.”

The sound of Namjoon’s tongue clicking echoes through the space, “Bullshit! You know our code, and you did NOT follow!”

With his back, turned Jungkook takes a deep huff, cheeks on fire. Jimin silently creeps nearby and coyly chimes in,

“See a blue light, call it a night. Don’t take flight, and you’ll put up a fight.”

“That’s right, Phoenix. We do NOT stick around once a blue light is within our sight. We take flight. Is that understood?” Namjoon probes with a stern tone, directing towards Jungkook.

The youngest turns face forward, with a clenched jaw and jutted chest. He says nothing, clearly testing the eldest. Namjoon steps forward and closes the gap between one another, so close that their noses nearly touch.

“Is that understood?” He inquires, his voice a few octaves lower. Jungkook pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue before breaking.

“Copy.”

“Get your shit together, Falcon. We’ll pick this up tomorrow.” Namjoon pulls away and brushes past Jimin, heading out of the kitchen. Infuriated, Jungkook lunges the now empty carton toward the wall ahead of him and also brushes past Jimin, who grasps his wrist in time to halt him. A look of worry spreads across Jimin’s face.

“Come on, Kook. You know Thunderbird. He’s just trying to protect us. It’s like… his job.”

Jungkook stays silent, thinking if he would ever get to see your innocent face again. Jimin nudges his arm to grasp his attention.

“You do know that you can talk to me, right?” He reassures with a promising expression. Jungkook simply nods and walks away, leaving Jimin worried. He knows when something is wrong with his best friend. He can feel it. But he also knows that Jungkook is a tough cookie, and it will take time for him to finally crack.

Meanwhile, Jungkook locks himself in his room — having confined himself completely from the world even if it was just for a few hours. How could he be so stupid? Why couldn’t he just talk to you like you wanted? Maybe you were a good person. At least that’s what he assumed, considering your beautiful face.

No. Snap out of it!

He can’t trust anyone. It’s for his own good. As the sun sets, he peeks through the glass window in his room to soak in the view of the city. Streams of pink, yellow, and blue paint the evening sky. If only he’d introduced himself to you, maybe he would feel a slight less pain in his chest. It was something Jungkook craved that he’d never gotten yet.

Intimacy.

Hoseok is frustrated; he runs his fingers through his hair for what has felt like the millionth time today.

“What’s gotten into you, huh?” He asks with a dark, lustful feel in his eyes. You gaze at him in complete silence.

“Can’t obey me anymore or what?” He lets out a frustrated sigh while gripping your hips.

“Oh you’re asking for it, huh?” He coos while mustering up the idea to tickle his way into getting a response from you. You break the silence, the sound of your laughter filling up his penthouse. Giggles and gasps for breaths emit from you, a sound that Hoseok thinks he could hear for the rest of his life and never grow tired.

“Oh my-! S-stop!”

And like a light-switch, he abruptly stops. His hands falling down to your sides, gripping your hips again. He gazes into your stare for what feels like an eternity. That familiar beauty mark on his lip is your favorite sight. He notes your eyes landing on his lips for too long, and he takes the opportunity to inch forward and meet yours.

He tastes like coffee — the kind you have in the morning before heading out to the station. The kind you’re used to sipping while reading emails at work or making phone calls. Or even the kind you order from your favorite coffee shop where you first met him and continue to meet up with him there to discuss anything work related.

Your lips soften against his, as his softens against yours. You’re not even sure how that is possible. Physics? Maybe.

However, the thought of your relationship with Hoseok crosses your mind. And before you could even think twice about what to do, with his tongue literally down your throat, you unexpectedly shove him lightly. His eyebrows furrow in response, concerned if he’d done something wrong (when he could swear you like french kissing, considering you both do it all the time, and he remembered you mentioned one moment how much you like to do so).

“What are we? What is this?” You blurt out. Hoseok’s expression makes you instantly regret asking him. He pulls himself away from you completely to pace back and forth with his hand on his hip, shaking his head. Your gaze drops to the floor, feeling like such shit for bringing it up. But you’d be damned if he made you feel bad, because you have to know. For your own sake. Your own sanity.

“Are we really doing this right now?” He asks while sitting down on the leather loveseat.

That’s it. Something in you snaps.

“Hoseok!” You screech, gaining a wide-eyed stare from him.

“We’ve been fucking for over 2 years! What did you think? That I was just going to keep floating around, letting you stuff me every fucking week and not say anything about it?”

You are a panting, hot, and frustrated mess on the verge of tears from how upset you are. Hoseok watches your riled up figure, and he can’t seem to bring words together. He’s had a long day and wants nothing more than to release his stress into you either on his bed, or this loveseat, or maybe the kitchen counter if you can’t make it to his bedroom. But your emotions are clouding the atmosphere, and it’s something he can’t handle.

“I don’t know what you expect me to say,” he states dryly.

You felt like someone just hammered a nail into your heart. Your mouth flies agape, sucking in a breath to contain yourself from crying in front of his eyes.

“Why can’t we just fuck and not go through all of this? What do we need a label for anyway? It’s not like anyone at the station is going to find out.” He shrugs, emitting a chuckle paired with a nonchalant vibe.

Drip.

And then a tear fell down your cheek, prompting yourself to march out the front door and never look back. Clutching your crossbody, your leather chelsea boots click against the hardwood floor. Before Hoseok had the chance to grab you by the wrist, you were gone. You continued strutting down the hall, better yet lightly jogging to get as far away as possible as quickly as possible. Your fingers find placement on the ↓ button for the elevator.

Ding.

The moment the elevator doors shut is when the tears came streaming down your cheeks, like a waterfall. You knew all along it was a bad idea to get involved with Hoseok. You’re sentimental and have always been so. “Catching feelings” while having weekly sex with him was bound to happen eventually. All in all, you could say that you saw the end coming, but at least 70% of you wanted things to be different than what they were. As your mother would call it, “living in la la land.” For the remainder of the night, you comfort yourself on your couch, stuffing your face with leftover chocolate-covered strawberries and sipping champagne. All while venting on the phone to your childhood friend and updating him on the current situation with Hoseok.

“Ah. I’m sorry, noona. Hobi is a real ass sometimes, you know?”

You take another sip from your wine glass, “Ugh. That’s the thing!” You pause, popping a strawberry in your mouth, “I knew it. And yet, I still fell for him. I’m just horrible, a mess.”

“Don’t say that,” he replies with a yawn following his response.

“It’s true, Yoongi! I’ve literally been letting him in this whole time and not standing my ground. It’s so pathetic of me,” You sigh with a frown upon your face that Yoongi obviously cannot see.

“Wow. He was that good, huh?” You roll your eyes just thinking about it, “Ugh, yes! Don’t even remind me!”

“Well-” yet another yawn cutting him off again, “Just take your time, you know? I’m sure it won’t be that easy to get over him. But eventually, it’ll happen.” Your eyes begin to tear up again, “You really think so?”

Yoongi hesitates for a brief moment, “No, I’m just trying to get you off the phone so I can go to sleep.”

“Fuck you, Yoongi Min.” His cute giggle lifts your mood in a contagious way — making you laugh out loud along with him.

“You’ll be fine, ____. Really.” A tear finally drops down your face. This is why you love Yoongi, and why you’d been friends with him almost your entire life. He’s someone you can trust, always having been there for you. It didn’t matter the distance you were from each other, or how long it had been since you contacted one another, you both would pick up right where you left off.

“Goodnight, Yoongs. Love you.” His gummy smile appears as he replies, “Love you too, ____. Goodnight.”

After hanging up with Yoongi and having your belly full enough of strawberries and wine, your thoughts continuously play over the events of today, making you realize how drained you are. Then the image of the runner from earlier crosses your mind. God, was he the hottest man you’ve seen in awhile, at least from what you could see due to his mask covering most of his face. But his lengthy strands paired with his toned biceps and tall, lean figure are what got you. The sun bounced perfectly on his tanned, body, displaying a gorgeous shimmer of sweat he was drenched in, kind of reminded you of your fave Krispy Kreme glazed doughnuts.

His eyes were bright and beautiful, and you’ll never forget the way he was startled when you approached him — like a deer in headlights. You wonder what else was “hot” about him that you didn’t get a chance to see. Okay, maybe it’s just the wine talking. Some part of you wished you could have at least asked what his name was, but he wasted no time in evading you. Even though you felt a slight sting in your heart, you couldn’t blame him for leaving. After all, you’re a cop and he’s a runner. Of course he’d “run” from you.

Hoseok is sound asleep until an alarming tone from his cell phone startles him from his slumber.

— Yoongi Hyung [Incoming Call]

“Shit.” Hoseok lets out a frustrated sigh before answering. His tired, raspy voice is heard from the other side of the line. “Hyung, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know you tell me.” Yoongi deadpans.

Hoseok sighs in response. Pulling away from his phone to read the time: 12:42 AM. He clenches his fist and runs his fingers through his messy mane.

“What do you want, Yoongi?”

“I need you to look into someone for me. Get ____ on the case,” Yoongi demands with a slight hint of desperation.

Seething, Hoseok retorts, “Fucking hell. Why couldn’t you wait until the morning to tell me?”

“It is morning, and before you step into the station I need to make sure it’s the first thing on your agenda. I need this done asap.”

Hoseok remains his composure on the outside but is internally screaming.

“I don’t know, Hyung. I can’t guarantee it. I have ____ on the Jungkook Jeon case, and I may have her finally close it. Hopefully-” Yoongi scoffs, on the other side, clearly not happy.

Hoseok adds, “What’s this all about anyway? And what do I get for it?”

“Did you forget who’s the eldest here?” A moment of silence falls into the phone.

“Didn’t think so,” Yoongi continues. Hoseok feels small. He always does when being confronted by Yoongi.

“I’ve cut a deal with Cobra Enterprises. The company will have a meeting tomorrow with PPD about a new project to take place. I want you to look into a guy. I’m sure you remember him. Namjoon Kim.” The youngest sighs yet again. He remembered Namjoon from his rookie days, and he also recalled Yoongi had failed to go through with the set-up.

“Press ____ to look into his file and continue there. Drop her from the Jungkook Jeon case.” Hoseok’s mouth flies open in shock at Yoongi’s request.

“Are you fucking kidding me? How the hell am I supposed to-”

“Do not try me! Now, you’ll do as I say without giving me any shit, understand?” Yoongi retorts, his voice now at a higher volume than before. His deep violet-haired, skinny stature dressed in a purple v-neck, paired with a black leather jacket and leather jeans. He paces back and forth, flipping a pen between his slender fingers. The visible ink of his black, circuit board tattoo trails from his neck down to his right shoulder and ends at his wrist.

“Yes, Hyung,” Hoseok states, his voice barely above a whisper now.

“Get her on the case for Namjoon and find out where he is! Tell her he goes by the name Thunderbird. These rooftops are massive. Viper and I cannot find him alone. Having her would help tremendously. Besides… she’s smart, and I’m sure she’d be able to get to him before I do,” he continues while staring at the view of the city from his hideout.

Hoseok lets out with a tinge of annoyance in his reply, “Fine, fine. Alright!”

“Don’t do this, and I will tell ____ about our little secret. I’m sure she wouldn’t be too happy about that either. Especially not now.”

“You better not say shit to her, you hear me?” Hoseok works up.

“Get the job done, Hobi.” Yoongi ends the call.

No, you could not find out. At least not like that. Hoseok doesn’t want you to know about the little fling with his hyung. He knows Yoongi would do anything to destroy the side thing Hoseok has with you, since he’s jealous. He wants Hoseok all to himself.

The ringing of your cell frightens you out of your sleep. Your eyes land onto your clock placed beside you on your nightstand. You silently curse whoever dares to awaken you at this ungodly hour of 3:18 AM. Surely it was none other than Hoseok Jung. You dared to not answer, but part of you needed to if you wanted to keep your job. You were slightly worried his calling may be job-related anyway. At least you hope it is, because you can’t think about how he’d hurt you the previous day. Your exhausted form answers the call with a swipe.

“Hello?”

“I’m here.” Your eyebrows furrow as you scan your bedroom in the moonlight. Your right hand finds it’s way to rub your eyes.

“What?”

“Just open the door. I’m here.”

You stay on the line, and groggily drag yourself out of bed to head beeline for the front door of your apartment. Through the peephole, there stands Hoseok with his iPhone to his ear and his head hanging low. You unlock the door and tiredly pull it open to finally meet eyes with the bastard. Yesterday’s events flash through your memory, and you’re drawn back into the mood you were in before you knocked out for what seemed like only ten minutes.

With furrowed brows you question, “Hoseok what do y-”

His lips crash with yours, cutting you off completely. Your hand that once held your phone, now wraps around his neck, easing him closer to you. His firm hands now grip your hips, flushing you to his body entirely. His plushy lips play with yours, naturally gliding and smoothing against their own accord. The bitter taste of coffee lingers on his lips, to what you assumed he more than likely had a cup of Joe before arriving to your apartment. He breaks the kiss to stare into your eyes, caressing your cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that to you,” he pauses for a beat, “It was wrong. I was wrong.”

A low sigh escapes your lips. Hoseok cups your cheeks, and gives you a small peck. You pull away to take hold of his hand and lead him into your apartment, closing the door behind the two of you. You find yourself sitting on the side of your bed, with Hoseok joining you. He rests his cool palm on your warm, exposed thigh, courtesy of your pajama shorts. Your fingers find placement on top of his hand. He stares into your gaze, guilt settling deep within his gut. Part of the reason he’d always treated you like nothing is due to his feelings for Yoongi. He likes this thing with you: being able to have you whenever he wants, do whatever he wants to you, and treat you how he wants.

It’s almost like he owns you, except he doesn’t. But he likes the complacency of the situation, knowing that you’ll always be there when he needs you. Yet he knows it’s selfish and such a narcissistic quality about himself, but he wants what he wants and cannot stop his actions. It’s this never-ending dilemma he’s stuck in of leading you on or admitting his feelings for you. Because all in all, Hoseok wants to “have his cake and eat it too.” On the other hand, Yoongi stands on the sidelines — waiting for the day he & Hoseok could be together. And now it’s worse since you’ve poured your feelings out to him. Although for Yoongi, it’s everything he’s ever wished for.

The luminance from the moonlight glows throughout the space that’s your room. Hoseok shivers slightly from your touch, the warmth of your fingers encases his cold, slender ones. You both sit in silence for a moment, just taking in each others presence. You attempt to gather your own thoughts of why Hoseok couldn’t wait to apologize until the next day you both work.

“Hoseok.” You let out, a yawn following afterwards.

“Hm?” He responds while glancing into your eyes with those gorgeous brown eyes, his strands gracefully dressing his forehead in that familiar middle-part style.

“Cuddle?” You ask sheepishly why reaching your arms out towards him, offering your warmest embrace. His lips curl up into that stunning smile, making his eyes shut instinctively. He removes his bomber jacket and shoes, then climbs into the opposite side of your bed. You follow suit and pull your duvet over the two of you. Your arms naturally wrap around his abdomen, and you curl up into his chest. Admiring the familiar scent of Hoseok’s fresh, linen garments with a hint of some expensive cologne. He smells so clean, as a man should. It sends you into a trance. Your ear rests on top of his chest, growing familiar with the rhythm of his heartbeat. And it’s just enough to put you to rest.

—

The sun peaks from the skyline, beginning its journey to rise. Deep orange and yellow hues paint the sky. A gleaming ray of light shoots throughout the hideout the three men share together. Namjoon is the first to awaken, his beach-sand colored hair ruffled in a slight mess. With a bare upper body and boxer briefs, he slips from his mattress on the ground to head for the washroom — his disheveled state still working to fully awaken. After finishing up his morning routine of brushing his teeth, washing his face, and grooming his hair, he slips on black nylon sweatpants and a red fitted tank, displaying his black, circuit board ink on his left forearm snaking up to his left shoulder and neck. He stares at his own figure in the mirror, silently hating himself for letting Yoongi talk him into getting a matching tattoo.

If only he’d knew where Yoongi’s loyalty really lied, he’d never would have given in to him. A slight pang in Namjoon’s chest resurfaces. He missed Yoongi, a lot more than he wanted to. Because it was more than “friendship” with him. He loved Yoongi and wanted to confess his feelings for him, but he was afraid his confession would lead to corruption of their friendship. He was also afraid of Yoongi’s “distant” personality. He was for sure it would have ruined them, even if their friendship blossomed into something more. Unfortunately, after Yoongi became a traitor in Namjoon’s eyes, he couldn’t stop the feelings he had for him and continues to have. It was ever since that one night they’d both had a little too much soju that things led from one thing to another. He relishes in the memory of Yoongi’s lips pressed against his.

The lingering, sweet taste of alcohol on his lips is the fondest moment Namjoon has of Yoongi. He had never been more aroused by anyone else ever, and Yoongi had just that effect on him. One thing led to another, and before he could process what had happened, the next morning he’d awaken to the sight of Yoongi naked and wrapped around his chest. Ever since, the entire dynamic of their friendship had changed. Yoongi hadn’t spoken of the previous night, and neither had Namjoon. He’d never thought that a week later, he would have had no other choice but to kick out the one person he had grown to trust for so long. He never forgets the look in Yoongi’s eyes. Puffy, red, and swollen from the tears he’d cried.

Namjoon had never seen him this shaken up before, considering his inability to show his feelings. But he believed Yoongi had done all of this to silently punish him for sleeping with him. Liquid forms in Namjoon’s eyes as his mind goes in circles consistently, playing the events over and over in his mind — reminiscing on the presence of who he thought would have eventually been his lover. While brewing a cup of coffee, Namjoon readies himself for the day. Upon arrival to the coms room, he seats himself at his desk, an arrange of five monitors on display. The longer one in the middle is the portal to log into Thunder, a tracking software he’d created, with Yoongi, that’s designed specifically to pinpoint a runners’ location. Of course, he had re-programmed said software to track Jungkook and Jimin’s location whenever they’d go out on a run, which is why they use an earpiece that has a tracker installed.

For safety purposes, he’d also designed it to detect when other runners are nearby while also detecting blue lights in the surrounding area. Each runner is part of a team that is represented by a color on the “rainbow spectrum,” and each color has a leader. Namjoon being the leader of Red, and along with Jimin and Jungkook representing the color. Although, the only colors from the spectrum that have been confirmed are: Orange, Yellow, and Green — while Blue and Violet have yet to be discovered. In the meantime, Jimin tosses in his sleep as though he’s experiencing a nightmare. Something within his slumber startling enough to jerk him awake, his eyes blown wide and his lips parted dramatically. His chest rising up and down as he trails his fingers through his onyx strands that fall back onto his forehead. His arms find their way up to block the sunlight from his window that forces to blind his eyes.

His body is warm, and after sitting up completely, he realizes his white tank is soaked in perspiration. Jimin snarks at the cold sweat clinging to his upper body. Rolling out of bed, the cool tile below him makes his body shiver. He pulls his top over his head and off, flinging it to the corner of his room. His toned upper body glistens with sweat, covered with the tattoo “Nevermind” on the left side of his abdomen. Jimin rushes to the washroom to start up the glass shower.

He hops in immediately; cool streams of water race down his fit figure, drenching his black strands and gradually decreasing his body temperature. He runs his index finger across the inside of his wrist where another tattoo is displayed: 13. A small grin crosses his face, thinking of the time he’d met Jungkook when he was 13, how they’d instantly bonded, and how far they’ve come in their lives. The number also resembling the day of his own birth. But Jimin’s smile fades, after realizing the dream he had. He knew something was wrong, because for weeks now he’d been having these nightmares that something bad would happen; everything would change, yet he wasn’t 100% sure how. Even though things were okay now, but he couldn’t help the thought that maybe his gut instinct was trying to warn him.

Knock x2.

Jimin jumps slightly at the sudden knock, and his gaze snaps up to the bathroom door, “Dude… Gotta pee,” Jungkook’s tired form slips. Outside the door, he can barely keep his eyes open — having almost pulled an all-nighter, listening to music and lifting weights in his room. Jimin swings the door open, with a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Scared the shit out of me, you know?” Namjoon arrives in the hallway.

“Morning, boys! We’ve got a long day ahead of us. So, get some breakfast and meet me in the coms room when you’re done.” Jimin nods and adds coyly, “Ay ay, captain!” Jungkook groans in response. On the other side of the city, the smell of eggs and bacon sizzling in a pan acts as a cue for Hoseok’s awakening. His arms stretch out, releasing the tension that’s settled in them. He checks his phone for the time only to find missed calls and texts, from none other than his hyung.

— Yoongi Hyung [5:02 AM] just wait till u come home. u will fucking get it!!!

— Yoongi Hyung [4:59 AM] are u fucking kidding me… i come here for dick and this is what i get? where tf are u???

— Yoongi Hyung [4:57 AM] whatever. coming in with the spare key u gave me.

— Yoongi Hyung [4:56 AM] u ass. i’ve rung the doorbell a thousand times already. are u that asleep?

— Yoongi Hyung [4:54 AM] Missed Call (x2)

Shit.

“Good morning sleepy head!” Hoseok jumps slightly at your cheeky greeting of you standing at the doorway of your room.

“I made breakfast if you’re hungry. I’ll be heading out in a few to follow up on any leads I can get with the Jungkook Jeon case.” Hoseok takes a huge gulp before spilling, “Yeah… About that.” He drags, while slipping out of bed. His hands find purchase on your waist, pulling you closer.

“I uh-” He pauses for a moment, remembering the threat Yoongi had given him. You stand there, all eyes on him, waiting for him to continue.

“I’m dropping you from the Jungkook Jeon case,” he states rapidly. Your eyebrows furrow, “Why would you do that?” Hoseok sighs, thinking of anything off the top of his head to lie.

“Just- Leave it to me. I did some digging when you left the station yesterday,” He continues while slipping his shoes on.

“I want you to look into something else,” You nod for him continue.

“Namjoon Kim. Known as Thunderbird. He’s got a record, but he’s also been reported as missing just like Jungkook.” Hoseok breaks away from your gaze for a moment, internally hating himself for doing this to you. He knows he’s no good for you.

“Do you still have that list of coordinates I gave you?” He inquires, while simultaneously looking up at you and tying his shoes.

“Mmmhmm,” you simply mutter, watching his form in silence. It is clear that he’s about to leave but you waited for him to say so. Hoseok grabs his jacket and notices you’re still standing in the doorway. He pauses to slip, “I should get going. I have some errands to run-”

“It’s fine.” You cut him off, the tone in your voice clearly revealing that no it is not “fine.” You’re slightly upset really, but part of you expected Hoseok to not stay around since you’re convinced that the only reason he’d came to apologize to you was to clear his conscious. And because, well, he was alone and wanted some form of companionship. Typical, right? Another part of you cringed at the thought you assumed he’d treat you as if you’re both together, even though you’re not. So, it isn’t abnormal for him to just leave. It’s not like he’s committed to you. Except your heart tells you it’s just not fair. Hoseok doesn’t miss the look of disarray that spreads across your face, due to his departure. He looks to you before leaving your apartment.

“Maybe I can come by later?” You internally cringe at his request whilst trying to not get your hopes up.

“It’s not a big deal, only if you can! Don’t go out of your way for me. Besides, I’m sure you’re busy.” He hesitates for a brief moment, then awkwardly nods as if slowly trying to process what you said. A feeling deep inside tells him that you know he’s full of shit. Maybe it’s his guilty conscious, but that makes him feel even worse for leaving you on his off day, just to be with Yoongi. The instant you shut the door behind Hoseok, your heart broke. You want to regret getting into this thing with him, but you know it was something you wanted at one point.

Jungkook attired himself in his usual pieces. Black ink tattoos of an “X” covers just below both of his elbows. His signature three, silver hoops dangle within both of his ears, as he deliberately munches on a protein bar, while standing in the coms room.

“I specifically asked you both to come once you were DONE with breakfast,” Namjoon retorts indirectly towards Jungkook, who is undoubtedly dropping crumbs on the ground.

“Hey, don’t look at me.” Jimin throws his hands up and shakes his head as if to surrender, his jet-black strands swaying about in front of his eyes.

“As I was saying…” Namjoon continues, “I have different tasks for you both.” Jungkook’s eyes stay glued on the eldest. Jimin’s toned arms are crossed, tilting his head to the side.

“Phoenix,” Namjoon tosses a wireless earpiece to Jimin. “I want you to head over to the docks. I’ve been picking up high blue light activity lately in that area.” Namjoon gropes his chin, as if in deep thought. “Check it out and see if there’s anything you could find that’ll tell us why they’ve been so trigger happy lately.”

Jungkook abruptly stops chewing and tunes out after hearing Namjoon’s request. That is why he felt different about you. You didn’t hurt him like most blue lights would hurt runners if they’d ever been caught. That’s the difference.

“Falcon!”

The slight ringing in Jungkook’s ears immensely fades away after he realizes Namjoon is talking to him. His eyebrows rise up, as if silently asking him What? Namjoon removes a black messenger bag he has around himself and tosses it to Jungkook, who almost didn’t catch it due to the crumpled granola wrapper still in his hand and Namjoon’s sudden reflexes.

“Since your little encounter” Namjoon makes the quotation marks gesture with his fingers. “I’m sending you on a fast cash mission. You know the rules.”

Namjoon quirks his eyebrows, as if to emphasize his point. “I’ll be guiding you, but keep your eyes peeled. Your name isn’t Falcon for nothing.” Jungkook shrugs at the audacity.

“When you reach the location, there will be a runner by the name of Viper waiting there for you. Give him the bag, and safely return back to the hideout without being detected by any blue lights.”

“Copy that.”

Namjoon nods in response, “Oh. Before I forget.” Namjoon reaches toward his glass desk to pull out a black, wireless earpiece.

“I know you’ve been borrowing Jimin’s earpiece since yours broke. So, I made a new one.” Namjoon extends his hand out to Jungkook then snaps away.

“Try not to break it this time, huh? Materials are kind of… limited.”

Jungkook cocks an eyebrow and obtains the piece to delicately place in his ear. He places the bag over his head and lets the strap rest on his shoulder, adjusting it to his liking — making sure it’s tight around his torso. Jimin follows and pushes his earpiece in.

Namjoon makes an overly-dramatic clap noise with his hands. “Alright, boys. Let’s get to work!” On their way from the hideout, Jimin stops Jungkook before they proceed to go on their separate ways.

“Hey,” Jimin spills, his eyes now crescent, moon-shaped due to the sizzling sun displayed brightly in the sky. Jungkook replies, “Yeah?”

“Just, uh…” Jimin lingers on for a moment, observing the ambience as if he’s searching for something. His eyes land back on the youngest, admiring how innocent he is. Jimin loved Jungkook as his own brother, and he’d do anything to protect him. He’s convinced he’d do more than Namjoon.

“Be careful. Okay?” A tinge of worry oozes from Jimin’s command. He wishes he could just tell Jungkook the dreams he’d been having lately, but he couldn’t. He didn’t want to upset him, yet he knows he’d have to tell him sooner or later. Because recurring nightmares that Jimin has are always to some extent: true. It’s been that way for as long as he could remember. The first time he’d experienced it was when he was seven years old. He dreamt the same dream during that time, that his father was caught in a rainstorm and passed away due to a car collision.

The first night he experienced the nightmare, he was afraid; and although he’d warn his parents, all else failed. They thought it was just another bad dream that would pass. A few weeks later, his father passed away due to a DUI car accident. Jimin was devastated, and although he was right all along, he hated when the same dreams occurred because he knew eventually it would no longer be a nightmare — instead a reality.

“Always,” Jungkook answers, while turning around to jog in the opposite direction. Completely unaware of Jimin who’s still left behind and laying eyes on him. An ounce of worry overtakes him, that he misses Namjoon’s calling of his name.

“Phoenix, do you copy?” Jimin snaps back from his daydream,

“Y-yeah. I mean- Copy that. I’m here.” Namjoon keeps track of Jungkook’s location and notices Jimin’s stillness.

“Alright, let’s head west and take it from there. It’s a straight shot.” Jimin starts his run, climbing over fences, sliding under pipes, and running on walls. Namjoon uses the digital map to pinpoint the intended location.

“Looks like the docks will be on the west side of the Cobra Enterprises building.

“Copy that.” Namjoon takes a sip of his now lukewarm, medium, roast coffee.

“Switching to channel two, be right back.” Jungkook sits on the edge of a building, looking below his feet where the grand city of Python seems so tiny. Pedestrians look like ants from his perspective. Moving vehicles give the appearance of toy cars kids play with. The sound of a deep voice keys into Jungkook’s earpiece.

“Thunderbird for Falcon.” Jungkook swings his feet playfully, enjoying the summer weather, “Go for Falcon.”

“You’ll be heading east to The Echidna. Viper will be there waiting for you. Deliver the package to him, and make it back safely. Remember, no blue lights.”

Hoseok turns the key to open the door of his apartment. The sound of the front door closing startles a naked Yoongi, who steps foot into Hoseok’s room with a towel wrapped around him. His soaked, purple strands dripping with water. Hoseok shuffles his jacket and shoes off, yet notices the penthouse is filled with silence. He’d hoped Yoongi had just given up for now and left, but he knew him. He wasn’t going to leave until he got what he wanted.

His fingers glide through his own soft waves, and he treads upstairs to his room. His heart suddenly pumps faster when his eyes land on the back side of Yoongi, who has removed his towel to dry his hair. His pale, porcelain skin glowing and glistening with water and sunshine. Hoseok takes a thick gulp and clears his throat. Yoongi finds Hoseok behind him and gives his signature smirk, “Good morning.” Yoongi drops his towel on the ground and gestures a “come here” motion with his finger, and Hoseok follows.

“Missed me? I know I missed you,” Yoongi caresses Hoseok’s cheek, gazing into his brown irises, his bed-hair adding a nice final touch.

“I’m sorry, I-” Hoseok is cut off by Yoongi’s index finger placed on his lips. He commands, “Just shut up and fucking kiss me already. You owe me. Big time.” Hoseok chuckles before leaning in to wrap his arms around Yoongi, placing his hands along his back, pulling Yoongi flush to his body.

Before heading out to investigate the supposed “Namjoon Kim” case Hoseok urged you earlier to begin, you chose to pay a visit to your favorite chocolatier in the mall, the one that sells your favorite chocolate-covered strawberries. The fresh, cool breeze of the air conditioner blows through your hair as you strut through the front entrance of The Echidna. The chocolate shop wasn’t far from the main entrance, on the entry level so you decided to take your time, casually strolling through the mall. The smell of pretzels, pizza, and other delicious foods filled your senses as you passed by the food court. After a minute more of walking, you reach the shop and realize they are running a promotion: Buy one dozen of chocolate-covered strawberries, get another half off.

Just in time.

On the rooftops, Jungkook blasts over buildings and latches onto pipes, ladders, and other obstacles that help him navigate throughout the environment.

“Thunderbird for Phoenix.” Jimin keys back into Namjoon while taking a break from running.

“Go for Phoenix.” Namjoon tracks Jimin’s location, and notes how far he is from the intended location.

“Good job. You’re on the right path. You should be able to see the front side of the Cobra Enterprises building from where you are.” Jimin scans his surroundings on the east side, and notes the building with a golden, cobra snake symbol. “Yeah, I see it.”

“Good. Continue your normal path and you’ll notice the building will then be on the east side of you.” Jimin nods in approval, “Copy that.”

Yoongi and Hoseok lie in bed together, wrapped in each other’s embrace. Hoseok rests on Yoongi’s chest, drawing circles on his chest with Yoongi’s fingers laced in his strands.

“So,” Yoongi breaks the silence. “So?” Hoseok questions, admiring the soft supple skin under his fingertips.

“Gonna tell me where you were last night?” Just as Hoseok gathered up the courage to respond, Yoongi cuts him off.

“No, wait! Let me guess. With ____,” he states with a dry tone. A tinge of jealousy behind his words. Hoseok turns his head around, facing Yoongi.

“Are we really doing this again?” Yoongi rolls his eyes, pushing Hoseok off of his chest. Hoseok’s eyebrows naturally crease in response.

“Yoongi, seriously?” The eldest says nothing, his back now turned to the youngest, having flipped over on his side.

“What fucking more do you want?!” Hoseok runs his fingers through his hair, his strands falling back onto his forehead. Yoongi keys in on him, with a furious gaze. “Us!” He exclaims, sitting up and easing his way out of bed to slip on his jeans.

“I fucking want us,” He continues, more-so demanding rather than stating. Hoseok takes a deep breath. “You know that I’m working on that-”

Yoongi seethes. “Yeah, and for how long?!” His voice raising with fists clenched on his jeans, zipping them up. “Don’t you fucking get it?” He adds, slipping on his signature, purple v-neck.

“____ is in love with you. How do you just “work on that?” He emphasizes with air quotation marks. Hoseok struggles to answer, leaving his lips parted slightly. A moment of silence falls between the two. Yoongi takes this as a cue of defeat — slipping on his leather jacket.

“Exactly.” He exits the bedroom, leaving Hoseok to ponder in his thoughts, while left in bed naked, regret filling him completely.

Yoongi saunters downstairs and slips on his boots, departing from Hoseok’s loft. He runs his fingers through his hair, while marching down the hallway of the complex. His mind continues to race many miles per hour. His finger presses the button to signal the elevator, and to his surprise, the doors open quicker than he’d expected. He takes a deep breath while stepping in and recounting the moment he’d had with Hoseok.

He hates himself for getting caught up in this situation with him, and now with you involved made matters worse. His heart aches at the thought of what things would be like if he hadn’t traded Namjoon out. Yoongi misses him, but he knows he’d never accept him for who he is and he wouldn’t ever forgive him for what he’d done. A pang in his chest approaches, knowing that he and Namjoon’s future was now long gone, and merely nothing but a dream now. It hurts, and he’s hurt. Which is why he’d pressed Hoseok to get you to look into his case in the first place. He needed this. Needed closure. He misses Namjoon, and there isn’t a day that passes when he doesn’t think of him. He needs him.

You’d chosen the dozen of half milk-chocolate strawberries and half white-chocolate covered strawberries. For both sets. The cashier carefully hands you the paper bag, with two gorgeous arrangements of twelve strawberries in each box. You gracefully exit the chocolatier with the brightest smile on your face, strutting toward the entrance of The Echidna to make your departure from the mall. Jungkook awaits on the rooftops, peering at his surroundings to ensure no one is in sight. And by no one, he specifically means blue lights. His tired being squats down, seating himself on the ground, nearby one of many dome-shaped, skylights that sit behind him. The sun toasting his skin causes him to wipe away the perspiration from his forehead, for what feels like the hundredth time.

Namjoon scans the time on the Thunder portal, noting that the runner should have arrived by now.

“Viper should be within your perimeter. Do you see him?” Jungkook scans his peripheral, but there is no sight of said runner. “No, he’s not here.”

Namjoon’s eyebrows furrow, as he doesn’t see any hint of a runner nearby the mall. The only indicator visible is Jungkook’s location. A red, blinking dot on the map.

“Something’s not right,” He says to himself, shaking his head.

Jungkook feels a presence behind him and just before he could turn around to say something, a deep, baritone voice speaks out.

“Thanks for meeting me here, this was a great spot.” But when Jungkook’s eyes landed on the tall, slender form, his mouth flew agape.

Violet. One of the colors on the spectrum that hadn’t been discovered yet.

There was no way, he thought. No way it was possible. And then the eldest spoke again, realizing Jungkook’s expression.

“Hey. Red, huh? Wait-” He pauses, Jungkook clenches the bag’s strap tightly. “That’s the color where- What’s that leaders name?” His finger taps his chin as if thinking. “It’s right at the tip of my tongue… Sounds like a month?”

Jungkook stops dead in his tracks, his eyes widening. How did he know Thunderbird’s real name?

“How do you know his name?” Kook questions, gripping onto the bag tighter.

“It’s Joon, right? Namjoon! There it is.” Namjoon keys in to double-check on the youngest.

“Falcon, has he arrived yet? I’m still not able to see him.” Namjoon grows hesitant from not receiving a response.

Jungkook abruptly throws the bag at the man standing in front of him and darts in the opposite direction. Viper sprints behind him and tackles the youngest down onto one of the skylights, their figures thumping and sliding against the glass. Viper bangs Jungkook’s head into the glass. Jungkook throws a harsh punch straight to Viper’s nose and tackles him down, his body now caging him in.

“Who the hell are you?!” Jungkook seethes.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Viper grins with a mischievous expression. Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow at his coy remark. His hands grip around his neck, applying pressure with much force.

“Falcon?” Namjoon keys in yet again. Growing suspicious, he continues to scan the area and notes a blinking, blue light that appears to be moving. His assumption is that whoever it is may be inside the mall. “Fuck.”

A tinge of venom seeps from Viper’s words, “Tell that leader of yours, that Firebird is looking for him-” He chokes, Jungkook applying more pressure.

“He better- get ready.. for him too.” He adds with a menacing laugh. Jungkook releases his neck and throws another punch to his face, his knuckles aching as a result. Viper continues to laugh, and manhandles Jungkook. His back falls back onto the delicate material below them. He drives his foot against the side of Jungkook’s abdomen repeatedly.

“Ahhh, fuck!” Jungkook groans, his fists clenching from the pain.

Jungkook forces a kick straight to Viper’s face, grazing his nose with his shoe, causing drips of blood to spill. Jungkook clenches his teeth and tackles Viper down again, and then suddenly.

Crack.

The two men gaze down below them, and witness cracks scattering along the glass of the skylight.

“Shit,” Jungkook slips.

“Falcon!” Namjoon yells into his earpiece.

Viper watches Jungkook’s expression with wide eyes, his lips parting in shock. Jungkook slowly stands on his two feet, removing himself from on top of the eldest and attempts to escape, but with the added weight of being on his feet, the glass shatters into pieces, Viper’s form falls through the skylight, en route to the interior of the mall. Jungkook trips, losing his grip on the edge, his veins popping out as he forces his body back up onto the rooftop.

You fumble in the pockets of your leather jacket to obtain your car keys. Until the sudden sound of shattering glass startles you and out of the blue, an intense cracking, thud-like sound follows by a body falling splat onto the ground level of the mall. The contents in your hands drop in response, and the only melody filling your ears is the screams throughout the entire atmosphere, civilians pushing their way to the nearest exit. A thumping beat resides in your chest, and it’s as if your heart pounds so loud you that the noise suffocates your hearing above everything else. Your mouth falls open, and your instincts tell you to examine from above, where the body initially came from. And then your eyes meet a familiar face; to say you were shocked was an understatement.

There he was. Again. The man you’d seen yesterday. You knew it was him because you remember those eyes, his hair, and that black mask. After locking eyes with you, he immediately vanishes. You glare at the body that lies on the ground, slowly inching toward the male. With shaky hands, you kneel down to feel his pulse under his neck and there’s nothing.

Jungkook charges off the rooftops of The Echidna, adrenaline pumping through his veins like never before. The last thing he needed was for blue lights on his tail. And he saw you. He fucked up again. You saw him, and now there’s nothing he can do to un-do what happened. The sound of Namjoon’s voice resonates within Jungkook’s earpiece. “Falcon! What the hell happened? Did you deliver the package?” Jungkook says nothing, instead, he runs.

Namjoon sighs in frustration.

“I’m here,” Jimin keys in. Namjoon locates Jimin’s location.

“Fuck,” Namjoon replies.

Jimin asks with a hint of confusion, “Did I do something wrong?” Namjoon sighs.

“No, Phoenix. You’ve made it to the destination. I haven’t heard from Jungkook since he arrived at The Echidna, and he isn’t responding.” Jimin’s eyes widen. Oh no, had something happened to him? What if… the dream?

“Wait what? Do you need me to head over there?” Namjoon shakes his head, as if he could see him.

“No! Stay where you are. Just find out what you can find, and I’ll be here. I’ll handle it. Over and out.”

Jimin’s heart drops. He hoped Jungkook was okay, for his own sake. He couldn’t lose another person close to his heart.

Namjoon locates Jungkook’s location, and he’s storming like a lightning bolt. He removes his headset to meet with the youngest. Jungkook pants, his chest rising and falling.

“Falcon, what the hell? How many times do I-” Namjoon is cut off by the expression on Jungkook’s face. He stops in his tracks and notices his mask is already off, with tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. His hands are shaking, and his heart is beating rapidly.

“Jungkook?”

Jungkook begins rambling, “I-I don’t know. I don’t know what the fuck just happened!” Tears stream down his cheeks, he feels like he’s on fire, his chest continues to gasp for air. He feels like he’s about to have a panic attack.

“I-It all j-just happened s-so fast, I don’t know what to do.” Namjoon notes his trembling hands; he’d never seen him so worked up before.

“He- he came. And then I saw his purple shirt a-and I panicked, I didn’t know what the fuck to do! I-” Jungkook sobs with an aching pain on his side. “I didn’t know what to do!”

“Okay, Kook just calm down. Follow me into the coms room.” Upon arrival, Namjoon processes what had been said and his eyebrows furrow in reply. “Wait… His shirt? It was what?”

Jungkook makes an attempt to calm himself down, his rosy-tinted cheeks stained with wet tears. “Violet. It’s the last color on the spectrum.”

Namjoon shakes his head, now pacing back and forth. “This could only mean one thing…” He trails off, pondering the fact he discovered a new color on the spectrum. He scrolls through the portal and peers at the map, finding the different colors of the spectrum scattered across the city of Python. Every color except Violet.

“That’s why Thunder couldn’t pinpoint his location. Violet isn’t yet programmed into the software. Which means-”

“Firebird.” Jungkook slips.

Namjoon’s gaze snaps toward him with wide eyes, “Where did you get that name?”

“Viper said it. Firebird is looking for you.” He pauses, to let in a deep breath, “And you’d better get ready.” Jungkook groans in discomfort, a sharp shock of pain shooting through his side. He watches Namjoon’s figure, noticing the startled expression on his face.

No, it can’t be. There’s no way he was looking for him. Even if he was, why? After all this time, why now? And what was it that Namjoon had to prepare for?

And then everything came crashing down. “Shit,” Namjoon spills.

“Who is Firebird, anyway?” Jungkook questions with curiosity. A distinct chattering sound can be heard from Namjoon’s headset.

“Phoenix for Thunderbird! Do you copy?” Jimin chimes in with a slight tinge of frustration and worry clouding his being.

Ignoring Jungkook’s question, Namjoon places his headset back on.

“Go for Thunderbird.”

Jimin sighs in relief, “Oh, fuck. I thought I lost you for a sec.”

Namjoon shakes his head, “What’s going on?”

With a heaving, sweaty chest Jimin states, “We have a problem. A really, fucking, big one.” — his eyes keyed in and widening at the sight of what’s happening at the docks.

136 notes · View notes

perriewinklenerdie · 4 years

Text

Evening conversations (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Open Heart, Ethan Ramsey x MC

A/N: Hello, hello, hello! How are we feeling, fam? PB delivered, we finally did it guys. I, of course, what else is new, couldn't help myself, and had to attempt a rewrite. Added some scenes cause I have no impulse control. Now, we have a few long weeks ahead of us, but it is 1) understandable and 2) so incredibly smart and good of PB to put the health of their people first. We live in hard times, the lives and safety come first. It will fly by, and hopefully, in the meantime, that scary situation is over. Take care of yourselves, guys.

AO3 link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23738884

Tag list: @paleweasels, @hopelessromantic1352, @kittykatchoices, @valiantlychaoticbarbarian , @radlovedreamer , @usuallyamazinglyaverage, @strawberrwess @palestazure, @cordoniaqueensworld, @universallypizzataco, @princess-geek, @faithhasnowords, @mightyfangirlofthefandoms, @drakewalkerfantasy, @timmagicktoad, @laceandlula, @greywitchyshots, @llamasgrl, @gingerjane15, @bucket-harrington , @marywrites-things , @ethanplaysfavorites , @mfackenthal , @betelgeusebee , @simsvetements, @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction, @buzz-bee-buzz, @owleyes374, @cora-nova, @aworldoffandoms, @l822, @cream-ray, @ughhhxjazzy, @silverlitskies, @justendlesssummerfeels, @togetherwearerapture, @desmaranj, @edgiestwinter, @friedherringclodthing, @daisy-ashton, @waytooattuned, @choicesgremlin , @lapisreviewsstuff, @the-soot-sprite, @writerapprentice, @chasingrobbie, @choicesobsessedd, @x-kyne-x, @thisperfectmemory, @drakewalker04, @rookie-ramsey, @jlynn12273, @thepinknymph @dr-brianna-casey-valentine, @a-i-n-a-a-s-h

Enjoy! <3

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Her shoulder comes in contact with Landry’s chest and suddenly her mind is quiet. No amount of shouts or looks thrown her way could puncture the fog that surrounded her for that one moment. It was nothing, and then all at once, it came with double the force, knocking the air out of her lungs.

Both of them tumble to the ground, Claire’s elbow digging into Landry’s ribs, a sharp pain radiating from the point of contact. Before she knows what is happening, a pair of hands grab her by her arms forcefully, fingers digging into her skin, and make a move to pull her up, when a voice booms over the field and next thing she knows, the weight on her back is eased.

“Don’t touch her, you son of a bitch.” His tone is chilling, filled with newly found rage that wouldn’t be easily explained if anyone asked why he was so quick to defend her. Luckily for him, the fight breaks out and his act of protectiveness gets forgotten by everyone but her, too stunned to participate in the insult fest that ensued as a result of her attempt to secure a win for Edenbrook.

It only stops when a very disappointed Naveen scolds them, breaking them all up and sending them on their own way. Claire was getting her clothes out of her bag when she heard his voice again, just behind her back.

“So? Was that worth dragging me down here?” Ethan’s words were slightly slurred, and as soon as she turned around to face him, she knew why. He was holding a cold bottle of beer to his cheek, the skin beneath the glass turning an ugly shade or purple. She winced, feeling a pang of guilt in her chest.

“I regret you getting hurt, but I don’t regret having you here.” She revealed, a proud smirk pulling on the corners of her lips when she thought about a crushing defeat that left Mass Kenmore licking their wounds. “I came to mess them up and I definitely achieved that.”

He smiled without humor, his eyes remaining emotionless. The lines of his face are even more pronounced under the floodlights over the field than normally, making him seem even more tired than usually.

“I got the feeling your head wasn’t really in it tonight.”

“It’s softball. My head was never going to be in it.” he responded matter-of-factly, looking past her. There was something in the way he closed himself off to his surroundings that worried her. Something was off, something was bothering him, and she would be damned if she didn’t try to help him, any way she could.

Her fingers brush against the back of his hand with the softest touch, raising goosebumps up his arm. It was all she dared to do in public, where everyone could see them and draw their own conclusions. Despite all that, the warmth of his skin against hers made her pulse jump, endorphins rushing through her bloodstream rapidly.

“I know it’s more than that. Talk to me, Ethan.” Her face fell, realizing how little they could keep from each other, despite their best efforts to keep things professional and keep their private affairs separate from their work. His gaze made its way back to her eyes, and the depth of his yearning is as strong as her own. When he speaks, its with the softest tone she’s heard from him in a while, almost like he didn’t care about all the other doctors that were passing them by.

“Not here.”

“Then where?”

His eyes flashed with something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. He finally let out a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing a bit. “… I suppose you could come home with me.” a muscle on his face twitched like he was about to smile, the line feeling too domestic, too familiar. “I have a new recipe I’ve been looking for an excuse to try.”

He was trying to impress her. He was definitely trying to impress her, she was sure of that. If not because of the way he said it, then because of the way he smiled when she asked, surprised. “You cook?”

“I do. Often. I find it very meditative, actually. It always helps me get my thoughts in order.”

“Okay, now I’m intrigued. Take me home.” She blurted out, then blushed a crimson red when she realized what her sentence carried with it. His lips curled into a warm smile, a reaction she didn’t expect, but wasn’t about to ask questions.

They separated briefly, for just enough time to shower in the locker rooms and change into their casual clothes. When they met again, they walked to his car, picking up their conversation about the patient they had earlier that day.

Ethan opened the door to his apartment, the space as clean and spotless as she remembered it to be. Her eyes got drawn to the view behind the windows, the curtains being thrown open only making it easier for her to watch how the lights flickered above the water.

She walked further into the room uncertainly, running her hand along the back of the couch. “So what’s this recipe you’ve been dying to try?”

“Georgian Stuffed Chicken.”

“On a random weeknight?” she asked, surprised that he was willing to go through such a meticulous process when they both knew they had an early shift the next day.

“Correct. Come over here.” He nodded, tilting his head towards the entrance to the kitchen, letting her go first. Following close behind her, he walked over to the fridge and then placed a full chicken and a bowl of butter in front of her.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Claire’s voice went up an octave when she voiced her concern. She did know how to cook, she was pretty good at it too, but measured up to Ethan, she was almost certain that she was a novice. He grinned at her slightly.

“Get massaging.”

Her moves were insecure and awkward, not entirely convinced that she was doing it correctly, and she was completely right, for she heard him laughing under his breath as he watched her struggle.

“You’ll have to do better than that. Rub it right in. Full coverage.” He instructed her, then turned towards his own work. His body seemed completely at ease and strangely content when he occupied himself with chopping ingredients and sautéing them in a pot.

“Ethan, just how long have you been a secret chef?”

“For about as long as I can remember.” He answered her question, wiping his hands on the towel he had by his side.

“As in… you had an Easy-Bake Oven?” she tried imagining little Ethan helping around the kitchen, the vision of it endearing more than she anticipated.

“As in my Dad liked to cook, and he let me help him with all the easy parts as soon as I was old enough.” He set the record straight, his face not revealing any emotions connected to the memories.

“That’s painfully adorable.” Claire giggled, leaning against the counter, her eyes focused on him. “Did little Ethan have a special apron? Or a little chef’s hat?”

“… No.”

The scent of their food being made filled the air around them, occupying her senses for a moment. Ethan turned back to the counter, chopping the cherries into smaller chunks. While he was working, he continued explaining. “My dad worked a lot. He took on extra shifts. The kind of thing single parents have to do to keep the lights on. One way I could help was making dinner sometimes when he was exhausted.”

“That’s pretty sweet. I guess you got good at it.” she pointed out, a sweet smile brightening up her face. A satisfied smirk made its way into his features.

“I make it my business to get good at everything.”

As she finished up with the chicken, Ethan added more ingredients to the pot, inhaling deeply, something weighting on his chest heavily.

“It’s missing something.” He mused, shaking his head after a second of thought.

“Did you check the recipe?”

“Recipes always tend to the safe side, flavor-wise. What would you add?” he asked, pulling out peppers and herbs from his fridge. She nodded towards the peppers.

“I should have known you’d want to add more heat.” He grinned, putting the herbs away and getting started on chopping the peppers.

“It’s not the only kind of heat I’d like to add…” she muttered under her breath, clearly enough for him to hear and understand. His gaze zeroes in on her, eyes meeting in a look of longing so intense it makes him weak in the knees. It lasts only a moment before it’s gone, with a deep breath, and then he’s back to being his self-controlled self, focusing on the cutting board once more.

“You make it hard to stick to my intentions, Claire.”

“Good.”

They both got busy with keeping their eyes on their food, but time went by and Ethan still didn’t say a word about what they were meant to talk about in the first place.

“So… are we going to talk about whatever’s got you so…” she extended her arms widely and Ethan sighed in defeat.

“I suppose I did promise you an explanation. The thing is… I’ve been avoiding my father.” He told her, and it felt as though he let go of a heavy burden. He’s always been on his own, dealing with his problems alone. Now, at least in that moment, he had her to rely on, and the way she looked at him told him that she was there to listen, and help should he need her to do so.

“But why? It sounded like you and him have a strong relationship.” She noted, trying to find the straightest line through all the parts she couldn’t possibly understand. Perhaps one day, she would be by his side to help him deal with it all, but today was not that day. Today, he needed her to just be with him and help him any way she knew how.

“I can’t stop thinking about what you and I talked about in the care that day we followed my mother. I always thought that Dad and I had a decent relationship for two people with not much in common.” He placed the knife back down on the cutting board, exhaling loudly before continuing. “But I’ve come to realize that I never tried to get closer to him. Because I couldn’t truly understand him.”

“Because he still loves your mom.” She understood what he meant with a somber realization, seeing past the façade of a strong man that was rarely rattled by missiles that hit him. He only nodded.

“That kind of unconditional love… I could never comprehend it.”

“He loves you unconditionally too.” Claire pointed out to him what was obviously there. In any other circumstance, she would try to get to the bottom of it, but it was clear what he meant, and they didn’t have the time to delve into it just yet.

“Everything in this world is conditional, Claire. Everything. My dad, he never pushes anyone. He never challenges anyone. He never demands anything of anybody.” He tapped his finger against the counter every time he pointed out a trait of his father, his face as blank as it could possibly be. “What my mother did to us, it’s like it didn’t matter. And I needed it to matter. I need what I do to matter.”

“I take that it’s not how your relationship with Dr. Banerji was.”

“The opposite. “ he smiled softly at the mention of his mentor that became a second father figure to him. A man that pushed him to be the best doctor he could be and was now pushing him to be the best man he could possibly be, even if Ethan himself wasn’t aware of what his friend was doing. “Naveen challenged me every single day. Still does. If I ever came up short of what I was capable of, he let me know.”

Her face fell when she put his words together with what she knew was a typical Ethan Ramsey reaction. “And you haven’t talked to your dad about any of this.”

“I have no idea how I’d start that conversation.”

“So you’re avoiding him altogether?” she asked, already knowing the answer. It was such a characteristic thing for him to do, and yet she hoped that she was wrong. But she rarely was wrong.

“Yes.” He breathed in deeply, stirring the content of the pot.

The perfect silence of his apartment is shattered by the knock on the door, and Ethan’s whole body visibly tenses at the sound.

“Just how long have you been ignoring him? Long enough for him to show up unannounced to make sure you’re still alive?” her eyes flickered between him and the door, a look of concern blooming on her face. His face twisted pensively.

“… I’d better go answer that.”

His own footsteps ring in his ears as he approaches the door. He counted the distance between him and his father, dreading the conversation that most likely would ensue the moment he opens the door to greet him.

He could feel the pleasant warmth on his back, in the place where Claire had her eyes on him, offering her silent support from afar. He took a deep breath, then answered the door.

‘Hi, Dad.”

“Thank goodness you’re here. I was starting to worry about you.” a relieved smile lit up his father’s face, his posture visibly relaxing as soon as he was sure that his son was safe and sound.

Ethan’s expression fell when he realized how worried he must have been. “Sorry, Dad, I’ve been…”

“Busy, as usual. Don’t worry, I understand.”

Alan stepped into the apartment, sweeping his eyes over the room, and then his eyes stopped at Claire and his movements halted instantly.

“Oh. But I see you have company… Hello again, Dr. Herondale.”

Claire smiled at him warmly, her eyes sparkling. “Don’t mind me, Mr. Ramsey. Pull up a stool and help us make fancy chicken.” Her comment made him laugh, his gaze shifting from the chicken on the counter to his son.

“I see a chicken that needs proper seasoning. Do you mind, Ethan?”

He waved his hand at his dad’s comment. “Add whatever you like, Dad.”

Moving around the room with comfortableness of a person that knew the area well, Alan reached into the cabinets and pulled out a few bottles of spices, spreading them over the chicken. “This chicken’s going to give us all a little punch in the jaw.”

Ethan kept his line of sight on the stove, refusing to look up and face the situation he was in. But then he felt warmth on his face and found it impossible not to look back at her. He was met with her smile and shining eyes.

Deciding to break the moment before he did something irresponsible, he took the pot off the stove and moved towards the counter. “Incoming.”

Alan and Claire stepped aside, observing as Ethan stuffed the chicken, then moved it into the baking dish. Ethan’s father cleared his throat. “So what exactly have you been busy with these past couple weeks?”

“Work. Same as usual.”

“… I see. It’s just that until recently, you always had time to answer my calls.” He pointed out, his face twisting with sadness. Silence fell upon the three of them, Ethan remaining quiet, unable to answer. Claire’s eyes find his own once again, asking a silent question. He shook his head, refusing to act.

“Talk to him.” she mouthed towards him, frowning. Alan noticed something was off, and he caught their little exchange.

“Am I missing something?”

Her eyes were still on him, still encouraging him to talk to his father like he should have done weeks ago. With a heavy sigh, he gave up and turned towards his father.

“Dad… I have to talk to you about something.” Ethan said, then turned towards her with tired eyes. “Can you handle the bird?”

Her hand itched to reach out and rest on his arm. She resisted the urge, instead nodding her head reassuringly. “Sure. You two go talk.”

Claire tried not to focus on their conversation too much, tried to give them as much privacy as she could, but one line reached her ears despite her best efforts.

“Love is complicated, Ethan. I thought you’d know that by now…”

In her peripheral vision, she was convinced she could see Alan looking at her, and then, a second later, a hot flash brushed against her skin. Ethan looked at her too, convinced she wouldn’t notice.

The conversation the two men needed to have was private. So much so that she felt as though she was intruding, despite knowing what the said conversation was about. Knowing all that, she decided to make sure that all in the kitchen was taken care of, and then started creeping towards the door of the apartment. Ethan’s worried voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Claire? Where are you going?” she turned around, nodding towards them both.

“Home. I think you two need some privacy.”

“But the chicken…” he was genuinely upset that she was leaving, which made her smile so widely her cheeks hurt. Winking at him playfully, she responded with humor in her voice.

“Bring me some tomorrow.”

She could see the war that was waging in his mind as he looked between her and his father before he nodded, relieved that he would have time to set things straight with his dad and still catch up with her later.

“Wait here, Dad. Claire, I’ll walk you out.”

“It was nice seeing you again, Mr. Ramsey.” She bid the older man goodbye, smiling at him widely. He reciprocated the gesture in kind.

“It’s always a pleasure to talk to you, Dr. Herondale. Get home safe and have a good night.”

Ethan led her out of the building, holding the door open for her.

“Can you get home okay?”

“Sure, I’ll call a car.” She shrugged, reaching into her pocket for her phone when she was stopped by Ethan’s hand. He rested it on her shoulder, his touch gentle and warm, and then turned her towards him.

“Claire…”

He pulled her even closer, resting his other hand on her cheek. His thumb caressed her skin, tracing the line of her cheekbone tenderly. When he spoke, his voice was low and filled to the brim with longing, not for the first time that evening.

“Thank you.”

“Ethan…”

It all felt familiar, the determination in his eyes, the certainty of his moves, the warmth of his touch. Without another moment of hesitation, he leaned down to make their lips meet, wrapping his arm around her securely. He couldn’t get her close enough, couldn’t hold her tight enough.

So many times, he imagined what it would be like to have her by his side again. So many sleepless nights he spent missing the heat of her body, the softness of her touch, the tenderness of her caress. Now that it was finally happening, he felt as though he was dreaming again.

He could feel the desperation in the way her lips moved against his, the fierceness and eagerness to bring him closer. It was everything he’d wanted to do, to have her close and keep her there. He wanted it to happen every day of those past months, every time she came near him, talked to him, argued with him. The fire was still there, simmering lowly, waiting for the circumstances to change so it could flare up again.

Their breathing got irregular, both of them trying to catch as much oxygen as they could. The intensity of the kiss was rising fast, threatening to destroy the scale. Every cell in his body was calling for her, to hold her, to have her, to bring her back home with him. She held him tighter, their lips coming together fast and hard, desperately trying to prolong the moment. His fingers grabbed the material of her dress that covered her back, willing to do whatever it took to hold onto her.

At long last, she pulled away from him, forcing herself to not dive right back into him. Their eyes met, longing in them clear as day. They still held each other close, unable to put even an inch of space between them.

“Ethan… what does this mean?” she muttered, her voice small and insecure. He felt a pang in his chest when he realized what she was expecting him to say.

“I don’t know.”

Ethan pulled her right back in, the kiss having an entirely different tone. Slow, soft and tender, filled to the brim with emotions he was beginning to understand and come to terms with. She kissed him back, her hands caressing the sides of his face.

“We’ll talk about it later.”

They were breathing the same air, electricity cracking all around them. The invisible force slammed them back together, his hands moving lower to grip her hips. She leaned backwards, kissing him hungrily, like she was never going to get enough of him.

Ethan’s lips left hers, moving along the line of her jaw, descending down her neck. The sound she made bordered on obscene, definitely not suited for the situation they were in currently, but he couldn’t care less. It did things to him, things he could definitely name, things he definitely wanted to explore with her, over and over again. But it wasn’t the time and place for it.

“Do you think-“ he leaned back for just a fraction of a second, but it was enough for her to reach for the door handle, pushing him back inside.

The corridor was dark and she slammed them against the wall, hiding them from the view. Tangling her fingers in his hair, she pulled tightly, a low groan ringing in the empty space around them. The thought of letting her go seemed impossible, and he had no idea how they were going to say goodnight.

Kissing her was intoxicating him, making him feel lightheaded. His hands wandered on her body, touching every part he could reach. With just the tips of his fingers, he brushed the skin of her legs beneath the hem of the dress she was wearing. A heavy sigh slipped out of her mouth, sending a shiver down his back.

Ethan’s touch got more insistent, now gripping the soft skin of her thigh, pulling her leg up and around his hip, growling at the contact. Claire’s smirk was concealed by the darkness they were drowning in, but they knew each other well enough for him to know she was smug. Pressing against her, he elicited a desperate sound of her own, grinning against her.

He trailed off from her lips yet again, sucking on the skin of her collarbone gently, then leaned back and rested his forehead against hers. Their breaths were elevated, shoulders moving up and down rapidly. Any more teasing, and he would have to take her against the wall, which he didn’t want for multiple reasons, the main one being that he wanted to take his time. He waited so long to have her by his side again, he can wait one day more.

“Let’s get you that car.” He whispered and was met with a slight nod from her, the same thought process happening in her mind at the same time.

They waited for her ride to arrive, holding each other close and kissing each other from time to time. When time came for her to leave, she grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him into her one last time, kissing him like there was nothing else in the world.

“Goodnight, Ethan.” She whispered, then got into the car. Once seated inside, she looked back at him, his eyes staring at her with longing. He followed the car with his gaze until it disappeared from his view.

---------

“You were gone for a long time.” Alan greeted him, leaning back on the couch with a knowing smile. Ethan stopped dead in his tracks, then scoffed and went to the kitchen to check on the chicken.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He tried deflecting the obvious question, to no avail, for his father laughed loudly.

“Ethan, you’re grinning like child that got candy. Can you honestly look me in the eye and say that it has nothing to do with her? Or something that happened while you two were gone?” a suggestive undertone in Alan’s voice made Ethan blush. He really was that obvious, so evidently taken with her that even his own father noticed.

“I- that’s not what we were supposed to be talking about.” He walked back to the couch, and his dad laughed a bit more.

“And you’re blushing! I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this flustered. Makes me regret that I came here and interrupted your evening together.”

“Don’t. Claire is right, I do need to talk to you. It’s weighing on me, ignoring you like that. I want us to talk and resolve it.” Ethan sighed, running his fingers through his hair. His relationship with Alan was never stellar, but they made it work as best as they could. With his mother back, the pain he felt since he was a child came back to the surface, widening the chasm between the two men more and more with each day that passed.

“She’s got a good influence on you. Promise me that you will talk to her when we’re done here.”

“I promise.” He nodded, his eyes shifting to his phone, left on the table. His fingers twitched in a gesture to reach for it, but he caught himself just in time to stop himself.

“Text her. Now.” Alan advised, knowing that his son would not act on his feelings if he didn’t encourage him, one way or another.

“She isn’t even home yet, and even if she was, she won’t have time to respond right away.”

“Then ask her to call you when she does. Come on, you’re one second away from bursting.” He said with a clear indication that there was no point in Ethan denying or arguing the point his dad was making. Letting out an annoyed huff, he produced a short message carefully.

“There. Happy now?”

“You’ll thank me later-“ the ping of an incoming message interrupted his smug remark, both men looking on the phone, then at each other. Ethan, almost like he could read his father’s mind, snatched the phone before he could reach for it, causing the older man to laugh.

He could lie to himself all he wanted, but there was no lying to Alan. Ethan’s face lit up as soon as he read Claire’s message, and it was at that moment when he was finally hit with the reality.

“… oh god.” He muttered, leaning forward heavily. Turning to his dad, he tried to form a coherent sentence, but found it impossible. Alan put his hand on his son’s shoulder, offering a smile.

“Congratulations, son. You just realized what everyone else already knew. Including Claire herself.”

For the next two hours, they walked through all the issues Ethan had developed over the years. There was no way they could resolve it all in one night, but it was a good start. By the end of the evening, they had a solid foundation for their road to forgiveness.

Just as they stood up to end their night, Ethan’s phone started ringing. He jumped slightly in his seat, and then started breathing a bit heavier when he saw who was calling. Alan’s grip on his shoulder tightened briefly before started walking towards the guest room he usually occupied when he was visiting.

“Tell her, Ethan. You already know how you feel, it’s time to let her know too.”

“Thank you, Dad.” Ethan walked over to him, hesitating for just a second, before he hugged him tightly. Alan was stunned for a while, and then embraced his son, thanking silently for the universe placing Claire and Ethan on each other’s paths.

#ethan ramsey #open heart #ethan x mc #mc x ethan #open heart fanfiction #choices fanfiction #dr. ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #mc x ethan ramsey #fic #fanfiction

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loliwrites · 4 years

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Hey! Just me again lol. How do you think Alex would feel if he came home from a long shoot to find his girl literally drooling over the gorgeous french rugby players whose surnames are almost impossible to pronounce correctly! 🤪 I don’t feel like Alex is a jealous guy generally but this might just be enough to tip him over to the jealous and slightly possessive side even if it’s only for one very long night 😏 - 🐙

Hello! Love to hear from you 😌 We know Alex is a football (soccer) fan, so that’s gonna be the only thing I change because what if not only is she drooling over hot football players, she’s drooling over a French team and not Hammarby. As if Alex would let that slide because at least then she’d be drooling over the players of his team.

No Warnings: slight indication of a resistance kink (will maybe be explored on later?)

• • •

Addi sat on the couch, hair in a messy bun, a pair of glasses sitting cockeyed on her nose. She’d been staying at Alex’s New York apartment “housesitting” while he was on location for two months in Ireland. Really it was an excuse to get out of LA for a change of scenery while she worked on a new script. Only she wasn’t working now. She was half a bowl of popcorn deep into a football game between Toulouse and Paris.

“Oh shit. Okay, I see you... Goicoechea.” There was no way in hell she said that right. Absolutely butchered. She leaned forward, zeroed in on the beautiful man who seemed to be spewing some colorful words at the referee. “Honey, quit it! He’s gonna give you one of those naughty cards!” She shoved a handful of popcorn into her mouth. “You can’t get a timeout! You’re too hot for that, baby!”

It was by some cruel, evil divine entity that Alex walked through the front door at that exact moment. He was in a pair of joggers, a plain t-shirt, and was carrying a duffel bag that looked larger than what he had left with. Upon entering, he slung the bag over his shoulder and folded his arms over his chest, inspected the TV, then Addi.

“Having fun?” His glare was nearly as icy as the New York autumn air.

It wasn’t lost on her that he seemed perturbed. She set the bowl aside and jumped up to greet Alex, but he dodged her and went for the bedroom to drop off his things. Torn between giving him space or figuring out why he was in a foul mood, Addi brought her hand up to her mouth and chewed on her fingernail. Curiosity for the man now co-inhabiting the apartment won out.

“You’re in a chipper mood.” It probably wasn’t the best thing to say, but since when did she shy away from confrontation. Usually. She usually did.

Alex flicked his gaze at her. “Can’t imagine a better thing to come home to than my girlfriend fingering herself to some French football player,”

Addi walked up to him. “Okay, first of all, I was not fingering myself,” she grimaced and set a hand on his shoulder, only to be more disappointed when he shrugged away from it. “Second of all, I’m watching it for you,”

He let out a laugh that sounded more like an annoyed cackle and moved to deposit his dirty clothes into the hamper. She followed him and put her hand on his shoulder again, this time clamping down so he couldn’t shrug away from her.

“You think I want to ask you annoying questions when you’re watching Hammarby games? I’m trying to learn so I don’t have to be fucking confused when you go on about the game and I have no idea what any of it means. Is Goicoechea hot?” She sighed when she got his name wrong again, “yeah. But he’s not as attractive as you.”

She could see him visibly soften. His shoulders hunched and lowered like he was letting go of the heaviness he’d walked in with. But as he went to reach for Addi and pull her into a hug, she backed up to stay out of his embrace. It earned her the largest puppy eyes she’d ever seen. But now that she had him in this new mindset, she figured she’d have some fun.

“No, no. I’ve got to get back to the game. I think I will start fingering myself, thinking about Goicoechea.”

“You can’t even say his name.” Alex took a step forward. His eyes hooded like a predator that had zeroed in on his prey. Addi was aware of it and took a playful step back toward the den. Alex smirked, “you better get running.”

Without missing a beat, she turned on her heels and sprinted out of the bedroom knowing Alex was right behind her. This was going to quickly become a game of cat and mouse. He the cat, and she the mouse that would end the night getting eaten.

#alex skarsgard #alexander skarsgard #naughty al #jealous al #alex skarsgard drabble #🐙#alex skarsgard imagine #more alex and addi #the football player #resistance kink

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word-addict-lisette · 3 years

Note

Tell me, or better, tell us

What does make your crush special, for you

Is it his hair? His voice? The fact he may be the only person who can spell your name correctly?

Just go on a rant, the more detailed you make it the less time you'll focus on how bored you are right now

Ahhh! Thank you for the ask! And sure!

Warning: incoming rant! Entirely nonsensical. Written in a daze at two in the morning. Queued post. Apologies in advance.

This is written at the time my brain was non-functional. don't come at me for typos and trashy English. I wrote it in a rush. sorry.

So... We began in Class 1. You know how they always say it's always two guys and a girl... Always. It was the same with me. Like we were two guys and a girl. And he was like my first bestie. And my only true bestie that too.

And I think... He was the only one to give me a nickname that I could accept. The other nicknames I got were the epitome of silly. And knowing me... I used to be the tallest in my class and I still am, but now, when we recently got into touch he seems to have grown taller than me. And that's something new to me. I've always been taller than the boys here as well, so now he's basically the only one who can call me "shawty" and he's making complete use of that.

And yes, he can pronounce my name right as well.

I usually can't recognize him in crowds unless I can see his hair. Like his hair has to be one thing I'm addicted to. It's just so damn sooftttttt. And curly.

But that's not all. I think I started liking him because of the little things. He's been the only one to remember little things about me and notice things that I have never noticed.

Speaking in general... We knew each other for six years, in person. And then later we got into contact after five years of ZERO CONTACT. No contact at all. You'd think that is ridiculous considering he lives in the lane right behind mine. So... I found his number scribbled on the back of my class 1 English notebook, while I was shifting. So I just contacted him, totally not expecting him to even remember me.

He responds immediately with an, 'Ah! Yes... I remember Clianta.' And he asks about how I've been doing and how old is my sister now.

When we used to be close friends my sister was barely a year old, and the fact that he even remember I had a sibling rendered me speechless right there. And that was not all he remembered... He remembers how we even started talking to each other, and which school I shifted to, and all my weird quirks back then. Moreover, he also remembers how I showed up to school terribly injured with almost my knees and elbows and face all badly scarred when I was 7. And the time I was in the hospital for a damned week. The time I accidentally set my clothes on fire. And the time I got my hand burnt by a cloth iron.

It's usually me who remembers small things and quirks and silly details cause I've got a very strong memory. People usually think I'm creepy for remembering such small things but when he talks about them it just makes me feel so fuzzy inside. It's like someone after all remembers me.

The weirdest quirk he remembers about me is my obsession with the word 'like' and 'damn'. And in all honesty... I still have that quirk. People think that I'll be the type of girl to have a crush on some super-smart guy or something. This guy is like yeah... He's smart. But he's a dumbass all the same. He doesn't understand the simplest of things at times. But I kind of find that super adorable. Idk why but something about him just makes me feel warm.

Or perhaps... It's just me romanticizing things that hold no meaning at all.

-once again... Sorry

Lisette

#accidentally revealed my name #lisette's life #my trash post #my animated life #sweet sweet asks #unhinged pp #thanks for the ask!#long post #this is a rant #sorry #why am i like this

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smolbeandrabbles · 4 years

Text

This Is What You Came For - Nolan Sorrento x Reader (Ready Player One)

@mandy23b @wltz-bby @happyskywhale #mendotagsquad

GIF Credit: X

Nolan Sorrento + 29 - “How is my wife more badass than me?” Requested by @purebloodwitch Author’s Note: Alright! Second to last 100 Sentence Challenge request! We really are almost there now! 🙏😁 This is a Ready Player One AU. You’ll figure out the AU as you read 😉 I made... some Tron references in this! I don’t think enough to warrant you having needed to see it-! 😁 Maybe you’ll want to look up what exactly a Light Cycle is. (Specifically how you use one in Tron: Legacy) Also I know that the Cycle would technically be in her OASIS inventory but I really like the idea of her just carrying the stick around strapped to her belt or thigh or something to use it. So ignore that inaccuracy!

Disclaimer: AU / Neither RPO or Tron has anything to do with me. / gif not mine / lyrics not mine / References to Lacero

Premise: With the final Key of the OASIS up for grabs, and IOI certain that it will be theirs - you’ve become unnecessary. When it all goes wrong, there’s only one Sixer that can step up to the plate...

Words: 4948

Warnings: AU / Swearing

_______ Baby, this is what you came for Lightning strikes every time she moves Yeah Baby, this is what you came for Lightning strikes every time she moves And everybody's watching her But she's looking at you, We go fast with the game we play Who knows why it's gotta be this way We say nothing more than we need I say "your place" when we leave Baby, this is what you came for Lightning strikes every time she moves And everybody's watching her But she's looking at you --- Yes, I am gonna win, And I’ll light the fuse, And I’ll never lose And I choose to survive, Whatever it takes You won’t pull ahead, I’ll keep up the pace And I’ll reveal my strength to the whole human race Yes I am prepared to stay alive And I won’t forgive, vengeance is mine And I won’t give in because I choose to thrive Yeah, I’m gonna win! Race, It’s a race But I’m gonna win Yes, I’m gonna win

---

You weren’t supposed to be here. In fact you weren’t even supposed to be on standby near IOI plaza. You were supposed to be at home - a simple spectator to the final challenge. Today was, of course, the day that IOI claimed the third key. Your husband, the OASIS for himself. Buuuut, as usual with Nolan, it had to be done the hard way - and everything appeared to be going terribly.

It wasn’t so hard to get your motorcycle from point A to point B and before you knew it you were hurrying towards the War Room. You heard the whispers and murmurs get steadily louder as you rushed from room to room; but especially as you ran the walkways over the Oologists. Y/N’s here! Y/N’s here! Y/N’s here! Yeah - everyone knew what that meant.

“Y/N! Ms.Sorrento, I-!” His assistant caught you as soon as you flung the doors to the correct floor open. “Paul, now is not the time to tell me what Nolan does or doesn’t want me to do. It looks like he needs me and, regardless of that, I think the sixers need help.” Several of them stood to attention as you clambered up on one of the platforms ready to strap yourself in. Good kids that respected you. Well, that came with the territory, you had spent time training a few of the best here too. Michael, their drill instructor and another guy you liked plenty, rushed over to perform final checks and run down exactly what was happening with you, he knew this was serious too. “Shall I inform him you’re here!?” Paul seemed to be halfway to the door already, “Nah, he’ll figure out soon enough!” You gave Michael a fist bump as you pulled on your gloves. “Andrew up there?” Nolan’s head of security seemed pretty important to keep around right now. “Uh… I don’t know I-” “Don’t worry, just make sure he is.” You took a breath regarding your visor for a moment. Okay – time to teach these kids a thing or two, again.

You were something of a marvel within the OASIS yourself - though you weren’t about to brag about it. IOI’s secret weapon, and boy did they desperately need you right now. F’Nale, but with covert OASIS based operations. And you were very alike; you understood why Nolan trusted her as much as he did you. An “official” I-R0k; although you would never like the comparison, considering you could trust him about as far as you could throw him, and didn’t understand why Nolan had so much faith. You two didn’t get on, which is why you’d been left out of a lot of this key stuff. For this to run smoothly Nolan had to keep the two of you from clashing, and I-R0K was the one getting paid for things you would consider less than legal. Except you had two keys, and they ought to remember that. Besides, it looked like his faith was going well...

You glanced up to Nolan’s office with a gentle sigh as you slipped on your visor to log in. Am I going to have to rescue you again, husband dearest? Much like him you didn’t wear your wedding ring - his in a box in the left pocket of his jacket ‘over my heart, where it matters’ is what Nolan always said. Yours on a chain around your neck, which you would often kiss for good luck, as you did now. The familiar start up screen greeted you with those five letters you knew all too well; before presenting you with a host of IOI portal options. Your flashed smile was confident as you stepped towards one.

Sector 14, Anoraks Castle, Planet Doom

*** You knew what you were as much as everyone else did. Nolan’s last line of defence. IOI’s secret weapon. Everyone knew, if they didn’t already, that it was serious when you took to the War Room floor and suited up. You would never call yourself a Gunter and you certainly weren’t a Sixer in the traditional sense, you enjoyed your time in the OASIS sure – and you were probably in it a little too much for Nolan’s liking, but that made you perfect. You knew what you were doing, and you weren’t restricted. For one thing, your Avatar still retained her original name. Today you’d changed into your battle uniform, but usually you could blend freely with everyone else. Working for him sure, but unlike the Sixers you were invisible. Before you’d met Nolan Sorrento you’d been a stuntwoman – when movie making still existed. It didn’t make the transition to becoming a fitness instructor that hard, and eventually that led to becoming a personal trainer for the elite (no one else was paying for such a thing these days). Nolan wasn’t one of these people, Nolan was someone whose form you’d commented on once or twice to help – and also a man who infuriatingly thought he knew everything. He’d in no way been your favourite person, the kinda rich corporate asshole that thought his money could buy him everything. But he liked your attitude and soon enough you realised that Nolan was only pretending not to listen to you. You warmed to him, and he you – to the point you knew he wasn’t kicking around your gym just for his workouts. You got hired as his trainer, and then promptly dropped as you started dating. Nolan wasn’t one for dating people he hired, because he liked to avoid scandal, which is exactly why you weren’t an official IOI employee. But he was as married to his job as he was to you, so, it had to bleed into your life somewhere. Truth was when it came to your relationship you were firmly in the drivers’ seat; and Nolan Sorrento needed you. Badly. Possibly none more so than he did now. You’d spent this morning at home – wishing him good luck before he left and letting him know you’d be on standby. Nolan had flashed a confident smile, and told you you didn’t need to be. “We have that… Orb of Osuvox thing, you can take the day off.” You were pleased he was at least pronouncing it correctly, “Okay. But with two keys and being arguably the best Sixer you have-” He crossed the room and kissed your forehead, “Y/N. That’s exactly why you need to stay…” He took your hands in his, touching his head to yours, “If I keep you safe here, then I know if things start going wrong, we still have a chance.” “Babe…” You pulled back, “Am I not your chance?” “We have this.” His blue eyes flashed in over-confidence (Which was correct in hindsight!) “Relax. Watch it here instead. You’ve done your part.” You tipped your head, before pulling him to you fiercely by his shirt collar for a fiery kiss – you’d have removed it, if you didn’t know that he had to go. “Finish it.” He blinked hard and swallowed harder, to Nolan that felt like a promise. Like the and hurry back was lingering unsaid on your lips. “I… I will.” Only that was before you’d watched that level 99 magic artifact implode on him, and you’d reached for your motorcycle keys then. No matter what Nolan said; you were always going to be on standby for him, you would step in if necessary, no matter the cost. The only thing that kept you on the couch for any longer than that was watching the appearance of Mechagodzilla. Now there was a movie Nolan had you watching 1000 times and yet still waxed lyrical about. How excited he was to tell you he’d built one in the OASIS. You had gifted him with a miniature figurine of it for his desk, and there it sat, his pride and joy. It always made you smile when you saw it. But even his faithful mechanical monster wasn’t helping him this time. And as you watched that explode you sprung from the couch. “SHIT!” Did that mean Nolan would have zeroed? No, no, no, no! That shouldn’t have happened. This shouldn’t be happening! You snapped the viewing screen off and sprinted to the garage – very nearly cursing yourself. You should have gone with him; you should have pushed Nolan, made it clear he needed you for moral support and no wasn’t an option – then you’d have been at HQ right now. Hell, you should have BEEN on that field right now, you could have gone from here - but what you really needed was IOI intel, portals, and access to their inventory. The one thing that gave you pause before you started your bike ignition was the vibration of your phone in your pocket, you pulled it out; ‘He needs you.’ was all it said – hastily written by his assistant, you pocketed it again and took a deep breath. Hand stilled for a moment over the gold band pressed against your chest under your shirt. “Yeah… No shit.” You always felt at home on bikes – and felt that it was always a quicker way to navigate through the city. You’d get to IOI Plaza quicker than you ever would in a car at any rate. Your OASIS vehicle of choice was a Light Cycle – Tron was one of, if not your all-time, favourite 80s Pop Culture movie. Although your current mod meant you had a version closer to the type in Legacy, a little easier to carry around and extremely fun to mount. You’d always flashed Nolan a grin and referred to your bike as ‘an ACTUAL gold piece of 80s media’ only for him to scoff at you. But yours had won you that first key before anyone else in IOI had, and you got to waltz into his board meeting and practically demand to be employed. (Unsurprisingly, Nolan didn’t really want you involved. Oh, until you proved you could do it!) The Light Cycle games were also ever popular in the OASIS, and you were the current reigning champion. Those had cemented your place in the OASIS, rather than your role as an IOI agent – it was unsurprising that everyone assumed you were a gunter. Many had tried to beat you, and all had failed – now it was time to put all those skills to a different kind of test. Hopefully you could win this one too. Nolan was counting on it.

*** Your avatar materialised on just the right side of the battle. Maybe a little too close to danger, though. You took a couple of steps back from the shattered bridge, giving only an obliging glance to the lava before turning to the castle; the real fight was in here. “Taking the bridge out isn’t a bad idea… I suppose…” – It was likely the only credit you would give I-R0K. This particular part of the planet looked like more of a winter scene than the rest of it. And not from any cheery Christmas movie, you thought, much more like the Day After Tomorrow. The wind whipped your avatar’s hair around and left a distinct chill on your VR gear; you shivered against the cold involuntarily before you broke into a run, hoping you weren’t too late. You had highly modified your avatars coding, twice, for these exactly moments. Within seconds you deployed her fairy-like wings. You couldn’t remember exactly when you’d last used them practically, rather than for extra show. But if ever there was a time, it was now. Beneath what you could hear from the OASIS itself was the nearly comforting noise of the war room and the murmur rippled – this was serious business. You could leave nothing to chance. The sound of real fighting echoed off the ice as you kept running, letting you wings vibrate against the cold air to give her lift, hopefully this would work! *** At first Parzival wasn’t sure what exactly had hit him, only that his right hand side had taken the brunt of the force. Luckily not enough to take out his armour quite yet. Looking up, he faced an avatar he’d never seen before skidding across the ice to a stop, whereupon she used her wings to right herself. Those must have been coded by the person to whom she belonged; he’d never seen a mod like that. He suddenly found himself with a sense of dread; dressed in a black leather jacket reminiscent of Sorrento’s own, underneath was a T-Shirt emblazoned in lights: IOI-6whatever-her-number-was. A Sixer?! But with an avatar like that she wasn’t just a regular one. He stood shakily, eyes flicking back to Sorrento – who looked more than a little surprised that she’d just joined the fight. Parzival smiled; Nolan was off guard – now was his chance. Z got just two paces – albeit at a very good run – before you were back in front of him. Every step he took you mirrored; wings stretched out defensively. These might have been kids, but you weren’t opposed to getting up in his face. Your eyes glittered in a way that made the colour seem unnatural (your favourite, if he was wondering), and Parzival was forced to take a slight step back. “Don’t. Fucking. Touch him.” You were more than happy to take the space he’d conceded. “Fine. I’ll just take both of you!” You had to give him credit, almost admired the attitude, eyes narrowed. Parzival wasn’t about to back down without a fight; hell, you might even find this one enjoyable. “You sure about that when you can just walk away now – it might be less painful for you.” “This is my world – and I’ll protect it from IOI and HIM by any means necessarily!” You sighed, with a shrug, “Suit yourself-!” There was just no way around you. Parzival realised he’d have to go through you and he wasn’t sure how many more of these painful hits he could take. You were highly trained and knew what you were doing – it raised so many questions as to why he’d never met you before. “Y-Y/N!” “Save it!” You didn’t even turn to Nolan’s avatar as you snapped, holding your hand up to silence him, give this kid an inch he’d likely take a mile. (Also you weren’t entirely happy anymore about your husband leaving you behind, but now wasn’t the time for that). You went for Z again – weapons unnecessary; your avatar was fine with relying on your own fighting skills and knowledge. Especially in close combat – magic was nice, but you’d still take your own instincts over that. Really you should have told him he didn’t have a chance, and you weren’t bad at dodging his tricks either. Given you were IOI’s best kept secret, there was probably too much going on in Parzival’s head right now to keep focus on what he was doing. He didn’t have any friends to save him. Your next sharp strike had him down on the floor – flashing red in warning that any second, he could be taken off the board. And it was painful, you made sure of that, to keep him there for a minute. You had a couple of other idiots to deal with before you removed him from the top of the scoring. For the first time since you’d got here you acknowledged the cavernous area you found yourself in; it seemed to be nothing but ice and stretched on endlessly. That chill still clung to your VR equipment and as you caught your breath it fogged up in the virtual air. I-R0K pulled you back to the matter at hand; “You’re a little late to the party don’t you think-!?” You didn’t even regard him properly, eyes flicking across, face hardened; “Shut your damn mouth. I got here didn’t I-!? Thought you boys wouldn’t need my help. Thank me later.” Then as a snarky aside, “This is all on you, I guess? A lot of good your plan did-!” “It woulda been fine. It’s your company that was infiltrated.” You did actually turn to Nolan then, arms folded, “HIS company.” Nolan looked a little affronted, but held his tongue. You knew he wasn’t about to chide you for being here. Looking between them again you couldn’t help but smirk; “I see your little orb didn’t work.” “It was taken down from the inside.” “...Exactly.” That still counted, you didn’t know why I-R0K was trying to pretend that it didn’t. “That’s not my fault.” “No one thought to just turn it back on?” They looked to each other and you realised it’d never crossed anyone’s mind, “Oh god, men!“ You ran your hand over your face; “So. What happened?” Nolan came in to defend his old friend from your onslaught – painfully aware of how much you didn’t get on; “It’s not exactly on him, my rig did get hacked.” You raised an eyebrow, “You still using that ridiculous password?” “Yeah.” His eyes flickered gold. “You still got it on a post-it?” “No.” His answer was far too quick, voice pitched slightly, and you sighed folding your arms once more, “I told you to change it.” It sounded like something a teen would use anyway - Bo55man69? Who was Nolan Sorrento kidding? “I… I was getting to it!” He stuttered as you gave him a hard look. “Little late for that... if you two idiots will excuse me!” Then you finally regarded the third man in the room looking between you utterly confused, yet still on the floor where you’d left him. Best not to leave him unchecked for long – you could bicker with these boys all day, it wouldn’t win Nolan the final key. “Now, Parzival, where were we?” The teen stood on his feet, he had a couple of tricks left, he knew that – maybe back up would even arrive. In fact, he was sure that if he just swept you from the equation it wouldn’t be so hard to take out the other two. Parzival leant around you to regard the Cataclyst, half buried in snow. Maybe he could use that as leverage, Sorrento might not care about setting foot in here again, but he surely wanted control. He wasn’t sure you and the other one would be best pleased about the prospect of Zeroing out. You followed his eyeline, and in that split second where your concentration wasn’t on him, he darted forward; “Oh no, you don’t!” Nolan dodged to the side, which was kinda unhelpful, because he was a lot bigger than both of you so could probably have taken a decent hit with his Avatar no problem. But, sure, instead he was content to watch you scrap with a kid over the most destructive device in the OASIS. You dragged Parzival back across the ice, letting your wings do most of the (literal) heavy lifting. “Why are you making this so hard-!?” “I can’t give up!! Not for everyone that actually knows a damn thing about what this place stands for!” You laughed, dropping him and firmly positioning yourself between Nolan, the Cataclyst and him. “Trust me, you’re only seeing what you want to see about the OASIS. You’re only seeing what you want to see about Nolan too, but you’re also a man running out of time. You can leave, right now, you can stand down. Parzival you have choices.” “I’ll NEVER let the OASIS fall into the hands of IOI.” You weren’t exactly sure how he was going to get out of it, but if he wanted to continue to fight you, you were down with that. “Suit yourself, but when this ends – remember I gave you the choice.” He came at you again, and this time you knew the only option was to take him out. *** For just a moment you let yourself regard Parzival sympathetically. In all honestly you got it, why everyone had gathered here to stop IOI from swallowing up their favourite pastime. But their perspective was what they saw, IOI and its loyalty centres. Your husband, the face and the front of that. On any other given day, you’d be on the other side fighting him and you knew that. You were painfully aware of it. But you knew him; you knew you couldn’t change the company and Nolan needed the support of IOI to get to this point. Maybe Loyalty would go, maybe it would stay – maybe when he got what he wanted, you could persuade Nolan to do anything. But he needed this. For what the OASIS had done to his family, he needed this more than the kid standing in front of you. And that was your only thought. “Sorry, kid.” And you meant it as you delivered that final blow. Parzival zeroed. For him, the game was over. There was eerie silence for a minute and you looked to the floor, feeling solemn, folding your wings away again. That would weigh heavily on you for weeks, you knew. From across the field the two men watched you in disbelief. You had actually done it. IOI was guaranteed the win. After all that, Nolan Sorrento only had to clear the final challenge. “How is my wife more badass than me?” Nolan murmured, shaking his head slow. “Well I don’t really think it’s that hard-!” He glared at I-R0K momentarily, eyes sparking back to that gold, before you spoke up. “Leave.” “What?” You didn’t even look across to I-R0K, “Your job is done here and I want you gone.” “Are you kidding me!?” “Unless you want to zero out too.” Your eyes were harsh and cold, and despite the obvious grumble Nolan nudged his friend, nodding in agreement. “You got me this far, old friend… You’ll be well paid.” You received a glare, before he jabbed a finger at you, “Don’t you DARE mess this up-!” and with that, logged out of the game. Now alone, you regarded Nolan properly for the first time since you got here. You wanted to run to him, but you knew it wasn’t over. You still had to beat the challenge and get the key. “Where are you?” He spoke first. “Downstairs.” You gave a little nod, “Andrew with you?” “…Yes.” At least his security was there, that seemed important to you. Even if the fight was in the OASIS. “You came all the way here… for me?” You titled your head, Nolan already knew his own answer, it was his lack of belief that got you; “I couldn’t let you do this alone. Not after what I saw.” “Guess I should have let you come.” “Well…” You smiled gently, “I’m here for you now.” *** You both stood in front of the final problem, with you looking for a final solution. They had won it and still failed, that wasn’t the key. It had to be something so Halliday and so out there, that it was so obvious… that’s what made it so hard. Nolan was a little less patient with you; “So how do you beat it? If it’s not about... winning?” You looked up to him, with a raised eyebrow. How exactly was he going to run the OASIS again? Maybe you’d be best zeroing him and winning it all for yourself. “Boy, you still got a long way to go.” You nudged him gently with your elbow and went back to studying the game hard; “It’s the right game we know that - the ice broke after a minute for everything else except for this one. But winning can’t be the objective.” Then it clicked; “Oh-! Of course.” “Of course what?” He was still clueless. You were trying to imagine the OASIS full of all Nolan’s favourite pop culture references instead. You didn’t think you’d find yourself complaining at all the 90s/00s obscurities somehow. As long as he kept Tron – or it’d be divorce. Instead you pointed to the retro TV; “The whole damn competition is about Easter Eggs and this game... was the first one.” You picked up the controller with a smile, “It’s about finding the Easter Egg-! Literally!” Nolan tipped his head, curiously, as you continued to explain, “Warren Robinett hid his name on the start screen, sort of, back in a time when creators didn’t get shit for things they worked so hard on...” you nodded back towards Nolan, “Kinda think you’d know a little about that.” Glad it wouldn’t show up on his OASIS avatar, Nolan’s faced burned slightly at your mention of his Gregarious days. He didn’t have to say anything though, his eyes had a habit of changing colour to give away his emotions and they’d flicked back to gold. “So, you can beat it?” “If that’s the answer, yeah!” You gave a single confident nod, coupled with a gentle smile And for once he smiled too, one so beautifully genuine all you wished was that you were seeing it on his actual face; “You’re a star!” “Oh no.” You shook your head firmly; “Your Oologists found the game, they deserve the credit. They deserve a hell of a lot - let’s be honest here!” And you’d make sure they got it, you did always like checking in on the kids and asking them about their latest piece of Halliday trivia whenever you happened to be kicking around HQ. You swallowed hard; “Okay, Noe, lets just hope I’m right!” *** The gravitas of the moment demanded you to stare up at Halliday’s avatar with a certain level of respect. It felt too wrong to be right. But you knew the man you’d married, and hopefully this would give him just the opportunity needed to show more than only you who he really was. You bowed your head, before stepping forward to take the Crystal Key delicately as it was offered. Voice soft as you bit your lip. “Thank you…” As you did so, the ice before the both of you cracked, raising from it a door of the same gem stone. You hopped down from the podium and back across to your husband, who was staring at the door with the same type of hesitation. You noticed his hand was over his heart – because even in Nolan’s haptics he would be able to feel that wedding ring digging into his skin, transferred to his shirt pocket when he wasn’t wearing his jacket. You couldn’t help your little smile at how absentminded and soft it was. He wasn’t even thinking about the OASIS when he was sitting in his office doing that. “Is this really happening?” “Uh huh.” You looked to the door, “Let’s go see what’s really waiting on the other side.” “Y/N- Wait-!” But you were already jumping across the ice path towards it and Nolan had no choice than to follow you to the door. Three holes for the three keys; yours were his and you took a step back from him. But he was still hesitant. “What?” “After all this, I just can’t…” “Honey…” You took his hand and made him look back to you, “You’ve wanted this for five years.” You looked back to the final key in your hand, taking a deep breath, “This is what you came for.” “What if I do the wrong thing?” “I know you.” You held the Crystal Key out for him, “You won’t.” Nolan took it from you gently, opening his inventory for the other two, Copper, then Jade… before he looked back to the Crystal one and paused again. You wondered what was happening around you, mass cheering? Were people upset? Your focus was Nolan, everything else was drowned out. Everyone knew what the official line for the plan was. Could the man you loved go ahead with it, that was the question – even if it was only on your lips. You regarded him for a minute, key in one hand, your fingers laced with his other and you wondered if he would really go through with it. Nolan had long had issues with the OASIS; it was in part responsible for the death of his sister, and he also held the belief that people spent far too long escaping the problems of the real world here instead of facing the ones outside. Now he truly had the keys to the Kingdom - would Nolan Sorrento shut it all down? Would he monetise it? He pandered that one to board and shareholders alike, but could he really go through with such a thing? You didn’t like to guess that he could - but making it exclusive to those that could afford it wouldn’t solve his problem. Those that could afford it would be pivotal in fixing the world, after all.

Nolan glanced to you and exhaled, squeezing your hand a little tighter, he’d dreamt of shutting this down since he’d lost her. And that’s what he really talked to you about in the dead of night curled up in your arms when no one else could hear. He gave a firm nod and turned back towards the door “Okay. Let’s do this...” Then looked back to you, placing your avatar’s hand over his, “You got me here, Y/N. So I won’t do this without you.” You could feel yourself start to well up, you weren’t one for crying and usually you’d curse yourself. But this once you’d let them come. “Nolan…” I love you. I love you too. I love you SO much. He gave a nod of encouragement, and a gentle smile – you returned both. “On my count…”

Whatever came next, and whatever Nolan chose to do here - you’d do it together.

---

15/16! Woo hoo! We’re there! One more to go and we’ve done it!! 😁

Thank you for reading and enjoying these so much so far! Hopefully we’ll go out with a bang! 😉💙

#nolan sorrento #ready player one #ben mendelsohn #nolan sorrento x reader #There will never be enough Nolan Sorrento on my blog #Rie #(Officially my AU baby now)#175 #Linzi Writes #Smol Bean Drabbles #Linzi Writes Requsts #100 Sentence Challenge

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laedraws · 5 years

Text

I had to exercise myself with writing and I found a prompt generator. This is probably very bad but I tried

Warning: language

Your prompt: Eddie is the barista at a coffee shop and always screws up Richie’s name on purpose + Your prompt: Richie hates coffee, but goes to a coffee shop and drinks some just so they can see Eddie, who works there

Richie Tozier enters the coffee shop that’s across the street the way he always does.

It’s quiet, and it’s a nice change from all the noise he’s usually exposed to.

Eddie Kaspbrak walked through the same door hours ago, half an hour before the start of his shift. He’s not thrilled about his job, but it’s not the worst he could be doing, either.

It’s quiet, and it’s a nice change from all the noise his thoughts make inside his head.

Richie Tozier hesitates only a few seconds before taking his place in line, not needing to mentally rehearse his order.

Eddie Kaspbrak has had anxiety all of his life, he still checks every order twice, despite knowing each one by heart.

Richie Tozier hates coffee. Don’t get him wrong, he usually gladly throws himself onto everything that could possibly make him develop some sort of addiction; but the light adrenaline wave coffee provides just isn’t worth the shitty taste.

Eddie Kaspbrak has learnt from a very young age that sometimes you have to just pinch your nose and swallow whatever substance your body does (or doesn’t) need. He grew up weak, and medicines helped him, or so his mother said. Caffeine was just another help, a boost for when his useless body claimed sleep too early or too often. A necessity, really.

Richie Tozier hated caffeine, but ordered a cup of coffee anyway. He always did, because the only reason he even entered the coffee nearly every other day was to tell said order to the brown eyed boy working at the counter.

Eddie Kaspbrak saw him the moment he got in line. He ordered the same thing every day, and it was the only time of the day Eddie didn’t need to repeat the order in his head until he had handed the cup to the customer in line.

Richie smiled, Eddie smirked.

“Your name?”

Your name is Richie. I know this. I heard your friends call after you. I heard you saying it yourself while you were trying to sound professional on the phone. You failed, by the way.

“Richie”

Please remember it right this time. I spelled it clearly, for you. I’m only here because of you. Fuck. I don’t even care how much this shit’s overpriced if I get to hear you call me correctly for once. (I want to hear my name on your lips)

Eddie grabbed a sharpie and scribbled something onto the soft cardboard. It made a soothing sound and he dared to quickly look up to the other, curly black hair partly hiding the huge frame of his glasses. He looked so hopeful Eddie almost felt bad.

It’s a cute name really. R-I-C-H-I-E. Has a nice ring to it, too. It would be a shame if someone put a T in there.

He finished writing, turned the cup so that Richie couldn’t see it, and moved to make his coffee. Cupboards sounds tingled in the air. He was aware of Richie’s presence somewhere behind him, but it didn’t make him nervous. He wasn’t overthinking for once. It was their little game, or Eddie’s at least, if the other somehow hadn’t caught up yet.

“Here you go” he said as he finished pouring it, half smiling but carefully avoiding the other’s eyes.

Richie smiled back and took his coffee, then quickly stopped in his tracks.

Are you fucking kid-

“-ding me?”

Eddie turned around, eyebrow raised.

Him and his fucking trashmouth. While he mentally zeroed any possibility he may have had with the cute boy from the shop he could clearly hear the distinct voice of Stanley Uris himself, telling him to stop being so freaking loud all the time. Serves him well for never listening to Stan the Man.

“Is something wrong?”

If Eddie was having a mini panic attack the moment he heard Richie complain (which he was), he didn’t show it.

And then something incredible happened, something so rare it could be comparable to the passage of some comets in the sky. Richie Tozier was left speechless.

“I-“ he started, flushing through his pale skin. “I’m sorry” he finished. “I just…was wondering how you think it’s pronounced? Maybe RiTchy?” He added, a sincere smile softening the joke.

It took some seconds for Eddie to blink away his confusion and pick up that the other was in fact fucking with him.

“You pay for the coffee, not for accuracy”

What the actual fuck was that, Kaspbrak.

“Excuse me?” It was Richie’s turn to be confused now.

“We put names on the cups so they don’t get mixed up, it’s a practical tip which also happens to do wonders for health codes, ‘cause imagine picking someone else’s cup that’d be so anti-hygienic and have you ever heard of a staph infection-”

Richie had honestly lost himself trying to follow the other’s train of thoughts, the only thing he could think about was that all the rambling made the boy in front of him look strangely cute.

“…and basically my point is that in the end the name is not really relevant for the service, so-”

(cute, cute, cute)

“Well yeah okay I’m sorry, I got it, I was kind of a dick-” And then Richie snorted because of course, he had to add “A Dick, get it? Because my name’s Richard?”

The barista blinked, but otherwise had no response. If Stan had been there, he would have smacked Richie in the head, which, fair enough. He suddenly became painfully aware of the line growing behind him.

“Alright, for real now, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you, just… uh, you’ve been butchering my name for weeks now and I guess I overthought it a little? Thought that maybe you didn’t like me which, I guess you’d be right in doing after this..”

Eddie felt like the shittiest person on the planet because you see, Richie’s eyes looked like those of a kicked dog behind those stupid glasses.

So when the other reached for his money and paid, muttering a ‘keep the change’ under his breath, Eddie took a deep sigh and- where’s my inhaler when I need it?

“It’s Eddie!”

“Uh?” Richie turned around, the cup of coffee still warm in his hand, the steam fogging the base of his glasses.

“Eddie. It’s my name. In case you wanna butcher it back”

As Richie looked at him Eddie felt his cheeks go down two shades. And then a wide, heartfelt grin pictured himself on the black haired boy’s face and Eddie felt his chest relax as if he really took a huge spray out of his inhaler.

“Nice one” he decided, and then, as a grin formed on his face: “Mind if I call you Eds?”

Eddie shook his head. Yes, he did mind, but he guessed they were even now.

“No” he lied while moving to the next costumer: “I owe you one”

And with that Richie could have considered himself satisfied, really. Not only the cute boy- Eddie, he quickly reminded himself, would call him by his correct name from now on, but Richie knew his, too.

You could just have asked, he heard Stan’s voice echo in his mind.

But isn’t it enough to just sit into my Hawaiian shirt, lovestruck? He would have probably said back.

(Yes that is the variation of a meme I just quoted. No, Stan, I physically cannot talk ‘normal’)

And so he refused to walk through the door, lingering on the back of the counter, respectfully out of line: “That’s nice to know, Eds. How about Eddie Spaghetti?”

That’s where Eddie drew the line.

“I said I owed you one, don’t push it”, but he was smiling.

Richie noticed it, and that’s why he said: “Alright Spaghetti-head”

He forgot he was holding coffee, because the smug face he was picturing having fell apart as he took a sip of his drink and almost spit it all out. Luckily the other was too busy to notice it.

Eddie handed the order to his current costumer, and forgot all about work policies and ‘professionalism’ as he absent-mindedly slipped in a conversation with the boy he had been purposely misnaming for weeks: “Beep-beep Richie”

“Did you just beeped me?” Richie added, faking indignation.

“Yeah, you’re annoying”. But there was no serious tone in his voice. Then, he quickly added: “Can I ask you something?”

Richie was glowing: “Yeah, sure”

“Why don’t you order something else if you dislike coffee?”

Richie’s heart did something funny in his chest as he realized he was panicking in his spot.

“Huh?”

“Yeah I can see you throwing it away as you walk out, you know. The poor plant outside has probably become addicted to caffeine by now. At first I thought it was me, that I had fucked up your order or something. That’s why I started to spell your name wrong, I was pissed because I thought you didn’t like the service or something. And I used to check every time, and I’m pretty sure that I had done alright”

Richie started to understand how Stan must feel while dealing with his shenanigans, because he suddenly had the urge to smack himself in the head, too.

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry if you thought that! I swear it has nothing to do with you-

(It has everything to do with you, just not in the way you’d think)

“-I just like coming here, and it wouldn’t sit well with me if I didn’t support the place, somehow. Does it make sense?”

Eddie didn’t look too convinced but he wasn’t one to push people too much. He just nodded and bit his lip, going on another tour to the coffee machine.

“If that’s how it is then, I was thinking, how about I make you another one? Another order, I mean. One that you actually like. I promise I’ll spell your name right this time”

“That’d be cool, actually. Do you have anything with chocolate?”

Eddie smiles and gestures him to go back in line.

Richie patiently waits, and when Eddie hands him his new order he forgets about checking his name’s spelling. He smiles at Eddie and maybe stares a little too long before thanking him and finally walking out the place.

It’s only when he passes the poor plant he’d been accidentally feeding with caffeine that he remembers the previous conversation.

On the cup, truth to his word, Eddie wrote “Richie”, the clear handwriting striking on the white cardboard. Under it, there’s a row of numbers Richie takes some seconds too long to decipher.

When it finally hits him, it makes his body warm despite the weather and a sincere smile brightens his face.

Richie Tozier goes home and doesn’t hear the noises of the street over the memory of Eddie’s voice he’s playing in his head.

Eddie Kaspbrak finishes his shift hours later, takes out his umbrella and lets the sound of the rain silence his overthinking, as thoughts of Richie bloom at the edge of his mind.

#it #it chapter one #it chapter two #reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #losers club #the losers club #Richie x Eddie #prompt generator #fanfic

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iamnotbrianmay · 5 years

Text

in the arms of life and death

Hi, its me, since I couldn't physically stop myself from writing another fanfic when this idea came to life I was forced by my brain to write and post this chapter. Now I'm writing two fanfics, which is great if you ask me. Less time to do homework, more time to write!

I hope you like this one, its a very weird concept I have had for three days, now its written down and I am shaking with terror about your reactions.

Description: Roger Meddows Taylor is born with blood in his hands and death in his heart. An unbreakable curse with the lamest silver lining he had ever heard of— he had a soulmate. A single soul made just for him to love, cherish, and be happy with.

What a load of bullshit. How could he be happy with anyone if anything he touches will surely die?

Do not stand at my grave and weep I am not there; I do not sleep.

Roger Meddows Taylor is born with blood in his hands and death in his heart.

The doctors treat him with utmost care, making sure that his head is held upright, his skin is cleaned from all blood, and he is wrapped tightly in a bundle of warm blankets. However, they type his birthmark into the system with anger, because people start pitying and being angry in Roger's behalf from the moment he is born.

His mother cries once he is taken into his father's arms and she is sure she won't drop him. The Hemlock which adorns his skin is nearly a death sentence, and ironically it's the most beautiful flower mark anyone had ever seen. It blooms right above Roger's heart, a bunch of delicate and elegant buds which looked as if the most talented painter in the world had taken hours to draw.

Of course, it's only right that the most terrible curses get the most beautiful flowers.

His father holds him tight against his chest, cooing at the newly born and blinking back the tears. The five-leaved clover that covered Michael's heart burning; taunting him with his never-ending bad luck. Luck that had passed down to his baby.

The blond boy gurgled, and Michael let out a soft sob. A single tear fell onto the boy's cheek, and the doctors left the trio to grieve alone. It was then that Michael Taylor started begging for his son's forgiveness, even if the boy was too small to even understand what was being said to him.

I am a thousand winds that blow, I am the diamond glints on snow,

In the beginning, and for a long time, Roger remained giftless.

He is still branded as a Cursed, though, and forced to go to a school meant for Cursed children only, until his gift shows. At first, he has dozens of friends, his toothless grin and charismatic personality does wonders for him. He goes around charming students and teachers alike, and by the end of the first semester, there is barely a Friday afternoon in which he finds himself at home.

But things inevitably change, and the first one to go is a little girl called Rosa. She had a mane of red hair, and a grin that makes every boy and girl fall in love with her. They are all sitting in a classroom, attentively listening as their teacher reads a book about a lost bird trying to find his family when Rosa asks the question that changes everything.

"Miss Pearl?"

"Yes, Rosa?"

"Can I sit in your lap?"

"Of course, Rosa. Anything for my favourite girl."

It's a simple request, something that shouldn't have sent alarms ringing, but suddenly the class is buzzing with anger. Shouts and complains ring all over the room and poor Rosa is left in the middle of the chaos, with fat tears rolling down her cheeks.

Roger is the only one unaffected by the gift, he has never been and will never be a jealous person. He looks around the room as children jeered and insulted Rosa until his head feels like it's about to explode and his ears are ringing. He grabs Rosa's hand and runs out of the classroom, ignoring the screams from their teacher.

Once they are alone, sitting on the lid of one of the boy's bathrooms, Roger urges Rosa to show him her flower. All of their flowers are well-kept secrets, only meant to be spoken out loud once their time comes, intended to warn or guide people once their gift showed.

Hesitantly she lowered the hem of her yellow, cotton, dress and Roger let out a soft 'oh' once he saw the mark.

"Hyacinth bloom." She whispered, lisp making it hard to pronounce the name correctly.

"Jealousy."

She nodded and let the hem settle back to its original state. He gathered a little bit of toilet paper and dried her tears, the ones that were still falling after the stressful event.

"My mom says it's not our fault when our gift makes people act differently." He tried to comfort her, but her bright eyes look weary.

"Is it because your flower is similar to mine?"

Roger freezes. He is barely six years old, barely over his toddler-age; he should be innocent and believe that maybe his flower wasn't as bad as people thought it would be. But he had stubbornly learned how to read to find out more about his condition, and had heard his mother crying through the thin walls of the house.

He looked at her in the eyes and shook his head, trusting the little girl with the only piece of information he was allowed to give at that moment, "No. It's much worse."

The next morning Rosa had already been transferred to a school for the gifted, and people had come to explain that every single one of them was going to be transferred unless their gifts proved too dangerous to be around other children. The lecturer's eyes zeroed in on Roger, even if he had no idea of what Roger's gift might be, it felt like a premonition of the years to come.

I am the sun on ripened grain, I am the gentle autumn rain.

He is the last one to get his gift.

The classrooms became smaller, the lectures more private, and soon only he and three other people were left out of a class of nearly seventy children.

They are trying to complete a science experiment, and Roger doesn't fail to notice how he is the only one in the classroom that doesn't need to wear thick leather gloves. The other three people had been cursed with the gift of Bellwort, Holy, and Marigold, and therefore had been deemed too dangerous to be around other children until they were at least fourteen years old.

The day starts like any other, he laughs with Khandra, makes fun of Luis, and nearly gets into a row with Anthony, before his gift gets revealed.

He sticks his hand into the fish tank, trying to catch one of the slowpokes to test their experiment, but when he puts the fish back into the water, it dies immediately.

Roger frowns and pokes at the floating fish with one of his slender fingers, then watches horrified as the meat rots under his touch and falls away, leaving only the skeleton. The other children jump back, trying to put as much distance between Roger and themselves, and he doesn't blame them.

The teacher watches as the chaos unfolds and locks the door. He manages to calm down the three other children in the room and then zeroes in on Roger, who is holding his hands as far away from his body as he can.

The teacher, a balding man with soft brown eyes, kneels in front of Roger and talks him into a state of faux calm that is bound to break at any moment.

"Roger, can you show me your flower?"

The blond shakes his head, as fat tears roll down his cheeks.

"Can you tell me what the flower is, then?"

Another shake of his head, and more tears rolling down his face. He looks back at the fish tank, watching as the remaining flesh drifted to the bottom of the tank.

"Can I call your parents?"

Roger is hesitant, seemingly speechless for the first time since he learned how to talk, but then he nods. The man takes out his phone and dials his mother's number. The conversation is short and grim, and once his teacher is turned back to Roger the older man is looking at him with pity in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Roger."

The tears won't stop coming, and his teacher's eyes are misty.

"I'm so sorry, sweet boy."

He braces himself for the hug that he knows his teacher is prone to giving, but instead, Mr Amourne takes a step back and runs towards the door, screaming at his colleagues for help. He is left standing in the middle of the classroom, alone, terrified, and confused, waiting for something that would never come.

When you awaken in the morning's hush I am the swift uplifting rush Of quiet birds in circled flight.

Roger Meddows Taylor never gets to leave the school for the Cursed.

He grows into a beautiful young man, and his teachers do everything to the best of their abilities to make him as smart as he is good-looking. He teaches some classes for the younger children in his spare time, takes music lessons to drown out his boredom— and grows talented at the art of not touching people.

His gloves help him in unavoidable situations, as does his thick clothing. But for the most part, Roger Meddows Taylor hasn't touched a single living human for more than a fleeting moment since he was nine and a half years old. In fact, he can't even remember what it felt like.

His mother hasn't combed his long blond hair in years, his parents' lips haven't peppered his face with kisses since the morning before the accident, and he has had to sleep alone in cold winters for ten years and counting.

The gloves help with almost everything, including things like his passion for banging the shit out of drums and his ironic talent of gardening. What they don't help with is with his parents' near-constant pity party of their first born.

They only served to worsen it.

They watched with sad eyes as Clare, their beautiful Crocus blessed Clare, took the mantle of the charismatic child. They observed as day after day as she bloomed and he withered.

And when the time came for him to leave school, they had to watch Roger, their Roggie, fall apart.

His already brittle soul chipping away as each of the people he had grown used too wished him the best in life, bowing before him like he was something holy, worthy of admiration. Which in his mother's eyes he was.

Roger, however, hated it when people bowed to him. It was a constant reminder of the fear he had placed in all of their hearts, of the terror they had of what lived inside his veins and was tattooed upon his chest.

But he accepted it, nonetheless, knowing that was the most he was ever going to get, and bowed back.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

The day he meets Freddie is the happiest day of Roger's life.

It's the first day he has ever been out of his house in months, and he is headed to one of his teacher's art exposition. An extravagant event hosted by the same woman who had once taught him how to draw people with their hands entwined, or in the middle of a passionate kiss. He wouldn't miss it for the world.

He walks into the gallery with his best suit, thickest long coat, stunning sapphire tie, and his trusty black, leather, gloves. He fits right into the scene for the first time in a while, and he even allows himself to loosen up. He drinks one flute of champagne, knowing precisely what would happen if he drank more and walks around the gallery, engaging in conversation with whoever is brave enough to get close to the Child of Death,as they had nicknamed him a few years prior.

He still didn't allow himself to brush with people, expertly dodging and slithering between crowds to avoid contact. And people, upon seeing his face made way.

But something was inevitably bound to happen.

And while he weaved his way through the crowd, twirling and ducking to avoid contact, he ended up crashing into someone.

Fear gripped his heart in a vice grip as he landed on the floor. He scrambled to his elbows as fast as possible and saw that the person he had crashed into, a thin boy with raven black hair, was looking at him with wide eyes. They stared at each other, waiting for the worst to happen, before the other boy spoke.

"Jump up and down and twirl around."

The body-numbing fear was instantly replaced by endless amounts of confusion. Roger made a face, shook his head as if trying to see if the boy was real, and then rubbed his eyes for good measure. "What?"

The relief that rolled of the other man was palpable, "Oh thank God, I thought I had touched you."

It was only then that Roger noticed the thick leather gloves on the man's hands, and the Wax plant pin attached to his coat.

"Sorry for the weird first impression, by the way, I'm Freddie Bulsara, Susceptibility."

Roger raised his eyebrows, "Not scared flaunt your curse, I see."

Freddie shrugged, "Better to warn people before they get a nasty surprise. My gift is something you can't quite shake off."

Roger eyed the boy with curiosity, taking in his white tuxedo and silver coat. He scanned the flawlessly applied makeup, the hundreds of necklaces and chokers he was sporting, and the gorgeous Wax plant pin made out of crystals. He also admired the way that he was laying on the floor, talking with a random stranger about the bane of their existence while looking like he did just that every single day.

"Roger Taylor, Death," he said while fiddling with the cuff of his coat, "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there; I did not die.

- Mary Elizabeth Frye

Okay so the flowers mentioned in this chapter (and their meanings) are:

Hemlock - You will cause my death Five-leaved clover - Bad Luck Hyacinth - Jealousy, sorrow Bellwort - Hopelessness Holly - Am I forgotten? Marigold - Cruelty Crocus - Cheerfulness Wax Plant - Susceptibility

Comments and Feedback are highly appreciated! In fact, I am a slut for comments! If you want to be added to the tag list, just send me a small message! I love you all, hope you enjoyed it!

#maylor #freddie mercury #brian may #roger taylor #john deacon #jimercury #my writing #in the arms of life and death fic #soulmates au

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grimelords · 6 years

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My July playlist is here, just in time for September! Four hours of hits from Lana Del Rey, Iannis Xenakis, KISS, Cameo and everyone in between. Please enjoy.

This Is What Makes Us Girls - Lana Del Rey: This is a really underrated Lana song I think. It's such a beautiful song and it's so heartbreaking the way she sings "they were the only friends I ever had". It's like an origin story for her whole thing detailing how she got bitten by a radioactive pabst, I love it.

Walking Into Sunshine (Larry Levan 12" Mix) - Central Line: A powerful good mood song that quickly takes on a vibe shift near the end when he says I've got to do it now, I've got to walk into the sun' which carries a different meaning than 'walk into the sunshine' to me. Embracing positivity versus self immolation in a nuclear furnace.

Fine di Cobb - Stelvio Cipriani: This is the most jamming harpsichord I think I have ever heard. This is from the soundtrack to an italian cop film called Mark il Poliziotto (Mark The Narc) that I found in a spotify playlist called Best Of Eurocrime that I cannot recommend enough. https://open.spotify.com/user/cinevox/playlist/1o3c0Con0ormlKc9r1gqxgSince

Last Wednesday - Highasakite: Highasakite might be the worst band name I've ever heard and they're so lucky this song is as good as it is that it cancels that out.

Hilary $wank - Joey Bada$$: I was originally just going to post the instrumental of this because the beat it just so, so good. So busy without being cluttered and nicely melodic without clouding the space for the vocals. I also like this song a lot because just by virtue of being so upbeat it escapes the worst parts of a lot of other Joey Bada$$ 'real hip hop' type songs that are going for a throwback vibe but end up just sounding dated.

Girls - Royal Headache: Girls! Think they're too fine for me! Oh Girls! And I'm inclined to agree!

Something To Tell You - Haim: I'm slowly coming around to Haim's second album and I've finally decided it's good actually. I just hope they do a live album or something soon because their songs are so tightly structured that I think it's almost to their detriment, and every live video I've seen of them they really pull them apart and expand them in a nice organic way that just doesn't come through on the album.

Lavender - BadBadNotGood & Kaytranada: I can't tell whether I like this orginal version or the Nightfall remix with Snoop Dogg better, the verses are just regular Snoop but the vocals they put on the chorus are so good I sort of wish there was a third version that was just them with some other rapper.

New Seeds - Boards Of Canada: Realising that the sound at the start of this is extrapolated from mobile phone interference was a shocking moment for me.

Alligator Engine - Hunters & Collectors: Hunters And Collectors early albums where they sounded like the Talking Heads of the Mad Max universe don't get enough respect because of their huge regular sounding hits a few albums later and it's areal shame because this song is pure primal funk.

Fly Like An Eagle - Seal: This is the song that plays on the little muzak speakers in the cryogenic chamber for the four minutes you're still conscious while your body cools to absolute zero. Then you wake up in 400 years still humming it.

Come To Dust - Boards Of Canada: I was having such a huge moment with this album this month and lamenting the imminent end of our favourite earth The Earth, and this is really such a peaceful sort of resolute song right near the end of the album before the real ending of Semena Mertvykh makes you feel like a body dumped in the desert for scientific research into the nature of decomposition.

Kiss You All Over - Millie Jackson: I'm still not sure how I feel about this new Millie Jackson album that's old multitracks re-mixed by Steve Levine. The whole thing sounds kind of whack. What's good however, is when she adlibs "I wanna bite you on the ankles baby" out of nowhere near the end, and then says "on the ankles.. on the kneecaps.." as the song's fading out.

The Sorcerer - Twain: My girlfriend sent me this song and I have no idea where she found it but I love it. As soon as I heard the opening line I was completely hooked. It's such a beautiful and foreboding song that I really can't get a proper read on, I love it.

Men Today - Health: I'm looking for a chrome extension that makes this song play at maximum volume whenever anyone makes a post containing the phrase 'men today'. Huge wall of noise. Bloodthirsty drums. All the dirt owns us now, what we were ends in the ground.

Where Love Lives - Frankie Knuckles: I'm eagerly awaiting the day coming soon that 90s piano house goes from naff to revered and rockets back up the charts.

Nein König Nein - DJ Koze: This is the B side to Seeing Aliens off of DJ Koze's new album and I really love it, mostly for the groove it get into about halfway through, it reminds me of High Fidelity by Daft Punk where it's just chopped to hell and builds these sort of disparate rhythmic cuts into a really melodic frankenstein.

Blush - Leon Vynehall: I think I found this song and the next one by Spotify Radio off of the DJ Koze song above. I got into a real groove at work one day and these two were the best two to come out of it. The bassline/strings melody that centres this whole song is so good and so circular it could feasibly play for two hours and I wouldn't notice.

Last Land - John Talabot: The way the vocal sample just keeps bleeding into itself is hypnotising here, and it's also maybe the best and most unique kick sound I've heard in a long time.

Suzinak - Ross From Friends: I almost feel bad for Ross From Friends because he's making some really amazing music but he's stuck with this dogshit soundcloud name. The Durutti Column sample that forms the basis of this song is really nicely placed without just feeling like a rip-off, but where this song really shines is in the last minute or so where it magically transitions into a crunching guitar driven thing that sounds like it's playing next door.

Canary Yellow - Deafheaven: The most incredible thing about this album is the sense of optimism that pervades it. This isn't a genre that really lends itself to hope or beauty but somehow Deafheaven have captured it in a way I didn't really think possible. It feels like they've expanded the emotional palette of the whole genre with this album, without sacrificing any of what makes it great.

Strutter - Kiss: I had this song stuck in my head the other day, but I'd remembered it wrong and had it mixed up with the chorus of Lovers And Sinners by Dallas Crane. In my version he's saying 'strutter' the way they say 'lovers'. There's an incredible song in there somewhere, but the original is pretty good too.

Lovers And Sinners - Dallas Crane: See above I guess. It's interesting listening to Dallas Crane now as a new generation is reappraising and being inspired by pub rock all over again and somehow the difference between Dallas Crane and Jet versus Bad//Dreems and Peep Tempel couldn't be more pronounced despite their shared roots. Where the former idolises the glamour of a bygone age of rock and roll the latter are reapprorating it in a more directly emotional, less flashy way.

Evryali - Iannis Xenakis: From what I understand from reading the wiki article on this piece this was generated by doing about five different kinds of extreme nerd graph maths and then turning that into music via more maths and when he finally turned up with the completed score it was so fucking stupid it had notes that don't physically exist on a standard piano in it. Now that's rock and roll. It's hard to make sense of this without the context of its composition because it feels incredibly random, but this performance by Stephnos Thomopoulos really brings meaning to the total chaos of it. I think solo piano is such a good medium for generative-type works like this because it feels like the simplest way to see everything happening without the tonal clutter of synthesised or orchestral sounds muddying the already extremely muddy waters.

Easy Way Out - Money For Rope: I love bands with two drummers and Money For Rope really know how to use two drummers, which is simply use them exactly like you would one drummer but pan them left and right so I can hear when they do different fills at the same time and get a thrill. A really good song about killing yourself when you're old(?)

Sophisticated Lady - Art Tatum: I've been having a big Art Tatum phase recently and it's hard to overstate just how much I believe Art Tatum came from another planet to teach us about the piano. He is really and truly from another dimension. So off the charts insanely good at making a whole universe from a simple tune. It's like every single note gets its own full trip around the block before he moves on.

Stay As Sweet As You Are - Art Tatum: This is an absolute odyssey in five minutes. Without ever losing focus, or losing track of the central theme, it's like he takes it apart piece by piece and reassembles it anew every single bar right before your eyes.

No Line On The Horizon - U2: 2000s U2 gets a bad rap, and it's mostly deserved but there's still some very good stuff in there. This song is so good, and so nicely produced it's a real shame that it opens the album that eventually contains Get On Your Boots.

Tools Down - The Presets: Not only is this song great, but they use the exact same synth sound as the one they used for Madeline's voice in Celeste, which has the nice side effect of making it seem like Madeline is singing along to this great song.

Open Sesame (12" Version) - Kool & The Gang: I've definitely put this on my list before but this is probably the best song ever recorded. It's incredible top to bottom for all 9 minutes and never fails to put me in a great mood.

Peril - Martin O'Donnell: I was thinking about the Halo 2 soundtrack and was shocked to remember correctly that this strange Enya knock-off made it into the highest selling game of 2004.

Drumgasm - Weiss/Cameron/Hill: I cannot belive I haven't heard of this album before now. It's Janet Weiss from Sleater-Kinney, Matt Cameron from Pearl Jam and Zach Hill all playing drums for 40 minutes and it's incredible. I would never have expected Weiss and Cameron to be the sort of drummers to do something like this, but they absolutely nail it. The different styles of the three really meld well and they all seem to lead at different times. This album is the sort of thing that seems like it would be extremely exhausting, and probably would be in most circumstances but somehow they pulled it off. It's engaging and for the most part, driven, purposeful music with direction; which is saying a lot for an album of three drummers just going absolutely hard as motherfuckers for most of an hour.

Apollo - St Paul & The Broken Bones: I love this song but the way he sings the first line makes me laugh because it sounds almost exactly like Drew Tarver's Donny Gary character. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U9ArjvUUptw and I'm blessed to have this song about reusing mcdonalds cups play in my head every single time I'm in a mcdonalds.

Million Times Alone - Bad//Dreems: This is maybe the best song about working night shift and having depression I've ever heard. The part about sleeping in the day in the bright sun in a boiling hot house is an especially vicious sense memory for me.

Slow Mover - Angie McMahon: My girlfriend showed me this and I absolutely love it. I also feel extremely old because I just googled it and apparently it's an Unearthed song that made the Hottest 100 this year and I didn't even notice. The best approximation I can make of how I feel about this song is the google autocomplete when you google it that goes 'angie mcmagon slow mover meaning?' and the top comment on the Genius page for it that says 'I cried my eyes out when I first heard this song.’

Drop The Bomb (feat. MF DOOM) - YOTA: Youth Of The Apocalypse: This is the new band from the non-Clash guitarist and bassist from Gorillaz, as well as Jamie Reynolds from Klaxons and I'm so glad it exists because the new Gorillaz album was such a snore and this really feels like what it should have been. Somehow it seems Damon Albarn is not the thing that makes Gorillaz great, it's the other guys which is very very strange.

Word Up - Cameo: Mostly thinking about this song because of Carl Tart's extremely good episode of Comedy Bang Bang where he spoke in the cadence of this and the other Cameo song for the whole episode https://www.earwolf.com/episode/word-down/

Lee - Tenacious D: I don't know what's going on but I got into a real Tenacious D thing this month. Thinking deeply about comedy music for some reason. Anyway this song is so much fun and it reminds me of Tony's Theme by Pixies.

Tony's Theme - Pixies: I love the idea of writing a nonsense song about your friend Tony, who you love, to put right in the middle of your otherwise pretty serious alt rock album. If you know any other songs in the genre of Lee and Tony's Theme please reply and tell me them because I think it's really funny genre.

Burning Down The House - Tom Jones & The Cardigans: I woke up one morning with the sound of Tom Jones singing 'strange but not a stranger' in my head and it took me so much googling to find out it was this version of Burning Down The House that I was thinking of, without having heard it in probably ten years. I like that this song is ostensibly a duet but Nina Persson has such a thin voice and Tom Jones is the most powerful man to have ever lived that she's sort of just automatically relegated to backing vocals by default.

Horseshoe Crabs - Hop Along: I heard about this from the Jason Mantzoukas What's In My Bag video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ecfWVhz-wyc. I cannot believe how her voice sounds, it's just incredible. The way she sings "baby's heading home" at the start shocked me, it sounds like recordings of three different people cut together. It's just amazing. I already loved this song a lot and then when I looked into it I found out it's about Jackson C. Frank and it made me cry.

Long Wat - Khun Narin: This is another one I got from the Jason Mantzoukas What's In My Bag video, it's a Thai pschedelic street band and it's quite simply the jam of a lifetime.

listen here

#playlists

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choicesfanatic86 · 6 years

Text

Almost: Chapter 1 (Liam x MC)

DISCLAIMER: All characters belong to Pixelberry Studios, except characters unique to my story. Those belong to me. ;)

PAIRINGS: Liam x Riley (MC)

SUMMARY: Riley Lawson didn’t believe in second chances, until one night a face from her past makes a shocking reappearance in her life.

Permanent Tag List: @umccall71 @drakelover78 @jamielea81 @bobasheebaby @speedyoperarascalparty @hopefulmoonobject @theroyalweisme @gardeningourmet @jlouise88 @hamulau @traeumerinwitzhelden @blackcatkita @mrs-simmy @kaitycole @alwaysthebestchoice @mfackenthal @trr-duchessofvaltoria @pbchoicesobsessed

Want to check out my other stories? Check out my Master List

Chapter 1

“No,” Riley narrowed her eyes at Daniel. He looked as if he were getting ready to grovel. “No way in hell,” she reiterated. “Do you have any idea how many hours I’ve put in this week alone?” She shook her head in frustration. “I have a life, too, you know?”

“Please, Riley. You can have all my tips from the lunch rush . . . all my tips from tomorrow, too . . . in fact, I’ll stay all day tomorrow to cover your night shift,” he pleaded. “Just cover my shift for me tonight,” Daniel begged. He looked as if he were about to go down on his hands and knees and kiss her feet.

The last thing Riley wanted to do was pull a double shift. She had stayed after hours on Sunday to take care of a retirement party that didn’t know when it was time to call it quits.. She hadn’t gotten home until three o’clock in the morning and her shift started at eight the following morning. No amount of make up in the world could have helped her look less like a zombie. The overtime and tips were great, but she was getting just a bit too old to be functioning on only a couple of hours of sleep. If she stayed tonight, she knew very well that she’d end up with the same problem – way more work, an aching body, and a whole lot less sleep.

“What’s so important?” She sighed, throwing a dishrag down onto the kitchen countertop.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a black velvet box. “It’s our anniversary tonight,” he murmured as he opened the box to reveal a beautiful diamond engagement ring.

Riley couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped her lips. “You and Lila? Really?” She asked, a faint smile gracing her lips.

“If I can ever get out of here,” he said glumly. “I was planning on proposing to her over a romantic candlelit dinner at our apartment,” he smiled. “But . . . then things got so chaotic here . . . the lunch rush just got a bit too hectic, and now there’s a bachelor party coming in,” he looked at her with a worried expression. “I won’t get out of here until at least eleven if I stay for the rest of my shift. I know it’s asking a lot because you were supposed to be off tonight, but can you please, please, please cover for me?” His look of desperation was just so damn depressing.

The moment she had seen the black velvet box she knew she’d be staying at the bar for an extra eight hours, but what of it when it was in the name of true love right? She rubbed her forehead in exasperation. “Okay,” she sighed, pulling her long, black hair into a messy ponytail. “Go on,” she pointed to the front kitchen door. “Before I change my mind,” she smirked.

“Oh, you’re the best! The absolute best. I promise I’ll talk you up to Craig tomorrow, okay? Dedicated . . . loyal . . . hard working . . .”

“Go,” Riley said firmly pointing to the door again shaking her head.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the bar’s cook, AJ chuckling behind the grill. He knew very well that Riley never covered for anybody. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes. She had gotten burned in the past before when it came to coverage, so she tried her best to avoid these situations at all costs. Daniel was one of the nicer coworkers she had, and as long as he didn’t make a habit of it, she didn’t mind covering for him.

“Got it. I’m gone,” Daniel raised his hands up enthusiastically. “Thank you . . . thank you!”

Riley gave AJ a pointed look. He was still chuckling as he was flipping the burgers. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for romance,” she sighed.

“I didn’t say anything,” the burly man continued to chuckle, shaking his head as well. “I just never figured you for a softy.”

“Yeah, well. I felt for the guy . . . you don’t get many second chances at love,” she shrugged, her expression looking a bit forlorn. “Hopefully things aren’t too crazy tonight, right? How busy can it be on a Thursday?” AJ snorted as he turned back to the grill shaking his head. Riley was beginning to think she had just landed herself in a giant mess.

Three hours later, she realized just how busy a Thursday night could be. It was awful. She had no idea that the weeknights could be this busy. She should have known better. It was New York . . . the city that never slept, but still. Where the hell were all these people coming from? She rarely worked the night shift on the weekdays, and was so surprised to see a steady stream of customers come in for late night meals. Alcohol she understood, but why order such heavy meals when they’d be heading off to bed soon? She was starting to regret covering Daniel’s shift. Her feet were aching, and her back was starting to hurt as well. She’d been on our feet for nearly twelve hours now and was getting seriously ready to ditch the bar. However, she had promised Daniel, and the last thing she wanted to do was ruin his night out with his girlfriend . . . or perhaps now fiancé if he had proposed to her already.

“Riley, that bachelor party just walked in . . . can you hustle and get them seated,” Craig asked from the opposite end of the bar. She resisted the urge to flip him the bird. Even if he was one of her bosses, she had zero respect for the douche. He liked the money the bar brought in, but not the actual work that needed to be put in to make it happen. He had conveniently strolled in during the mad dinner rush then promptly went to his office and closed the door. She hadn’t even known he had come out until she heard him start to bark orders at her. She liked Dwayne a lot better. He was Craig’s brother and the other owner of the bar. He had been there since the lunch shift ended and had been helping Riley out with the steady stream of customers that kept flowing in. Luckily a majority of the patrons weren’t here for the food . . . they had come for the alcohol which was Dwayne’s expertise. That left Riley running the floor by herself, but at least she didn’t have to also worry about drink orders. Dwayne had that covered. Apparently, she was also going to play hostess in addition to waitress tonight.

She swung past the podium at the front of the bar, and plastered on her biggest smile. “Hey guys, I’ll be with you in a moment, okay? I just need to run these burgers over to that table right there. You’re here for the bachelor party right?”

A tall dark-haired main dressed in denim, nodded at her.

“Waitress, why isn’t our table ready?” The perfectly tanned, impeccably dressed man behind him called out, his eyebrows furrowed in dismay. “We called ahead,” he stated as if that would magically get them seated that very second.

“So sorry for the trouble,” she said quickly. “We’re a bit short staffed, but I promise, I have a great booth for you,” she said, never letting her smile falter.

He sighed, mumbling to the rest of the party. She bet he was the groom. He looked like the night was centered on him. He was probably some hotshot investment banker or accountant. He looked like the type that would have a boring job . . . he was probably a boss wherever he worked. It would explain the attitude. After she had delivered the table’s orders and ensured they were okay for the time being, she swung back to the podium to collect the men for the bachelor party.

“Sorry about that,” she murmured softly, pushing a strand of hair that had fallen across her face. “We are just hopping tonight, but I promise, once I get you seated, I’ll get you squared away with your drink orders, okay?”

“Finally . . .I was just about to die from starvation,” the gentlemen in the black collared shirt spoke, and Riley forced a thin smile on her face. They were going to be difficult. She just knew it. She hoped she at least got a fat tip out of the suffering she was about to endure.

“Sorry about them . . . they don’t have any manners,” the man in the denim said softly, just so that she could hear.

A genuine smile replaced her fake one, and she inclined her head in gratitude.

“So . . . let’s start out with whiskey . . . lots and lots of whiskey,” he exclaimed as they were seated in the booth.

“That, I can arrange,” she nodded. “Care to order any meals? Grill closes at ten on the dot, then we turn into a full blown bar, so I’d suggest getting an order in now.”

“Steaks for the table!” The man in the black collared shirt exclaimed.

“Maxwell, I don’t think – “ Whiskey Guy began to state.

“Yes! I’ll take a filet mignon, medium rare and prepared with a béarnaise sauce,” the tanned gentleman said confidently.

“Um . . . yeah,” Riley shook her head. She didn’t even know what the hell béarnaise sauce was, let alone if the man was pronouncing it correctly. “We don’t have that here. The fanciest thing we have on the menu is our deluxe burger . . . pretty awesome if I do say so myself,” she chuckled.

The two men looked a bit puzzled as to why they couldn’t order steaks. They started to murmur among themselves. She thought she heard the suggestion of going to another bar. She almost snorted. If they wanted something a little higher class, they’d have to get out of Brooklyn. This was one of the better bars in the area, unless they wanted to go to the snazzier parts of New York, they’d be out of luck.

“Knock it off, guys,” the Whiskey Guy said sternly. “We’ll take four of your deluxe burgers, miss . . .” he trailed off, and she realized in all her haste to get the orders out and to get them seated, she didn’t do her normal introduction.

“Riley,” she smiled brightly. “I’ll be serving you tonight,” she murmured.

“Drake,” he said, inclining his head once more. “These idiots are Maxwell and Tariq,” he pointed at each of the men. “You’ll have to excuse them . . . they aren’t accustomed to this sort of fine establishment,” he explained, a small smiling playing on his lips.

She couldn’t help but chuckle. She liked him a lot. He was a lot more pleasant to deal with than the other two. Perhaps, the night hadn’t been a total lost. At least she had met a relatively hot guy with a really decent personality. A rarity, she’s found, since moving to New York.

“And don’t worry about the meals . . . we’ll take four deluxe burgers along with that bottle of whiskey I mentioned earlier.”

“Four?” Riley asked, arching her eyebrows. Clearly there were only three men in front of her . . . and unless one of them was exceptionally hungry . . .

“We’re just missing our groom-to-be,” Drake explained.

“Got it,” She nodded in understanding. “I’ll put the order in and come back with a pitcher of water and a round of whiskey for you handsome fellas,” she smiled brightly. What would it hurt to flirt a little? It wasn’t as if they were locals she’d see again. They clearly had accents and from the way they were acting, they definitely weren’t from New York or impressed to be here. If she had to be stuck here for the rest of the night, there was no harm in having a bit of fun with it.

She got back to the table, whiskey in hand as well as the pitcher of water. She noticed that the fourth member of their party had finally arrived. She hoped he wasn’t like the other two dingbats. At least if this guy was as nice as Drake, she’d be able to survive serving them tonight. She carefully set the whiskey bottle and the four glasses on the table, sliding the pitcher of water in the middle of the table. “Let me get you some utensils,” she added, noticing she had forgotten to bring them the sets earlier.

“So, congratulations,” she said enthusiastically as she came back with the utensil sets. “I hear you’re the lucky guy getting married,” she smiled brightly, as she slid each set in front of the men.

She lifted her head up to look at the man in front of her, and the smile flew off her face nearly instantaneously. She felt like she couldn’t breathe. She was having that nightmare again . . . only this was real . . . very, very real.

“Liam?” She gasped, her voice sounded pained.

The man looked up at her with the picture-perfect smile she had grown so enamored with. She couldn’t believe it was him. Of all the bars in all of Brooklyn in all of New York in all of the country, he landed in the exact same bar that she had been working in. What were the odds? She hadn’t seen him in ages . . . not since that summer in Germany. He looked different, of course. After eight years, who wouldn’t look different? The boy she had fallen head over heels in love with had grown into the dashing man seated before her . . . the dashing engaged man sitting before her. She suddenly felt the urge to vomit.

“Riley . . .” He started to say, his dark brown eyes meeting her light green eyes for the first time that evening. He reached his hand out as if he were about to touch her arm, and that snapped her out of the state of shock she found herself in. She took a step back, still not understanding how she had ended up in such an awkward predicament. Shouldn’t he be in Europe? She was still speechless . . . but only for a moment. Before she knew what was happening, her hands were gripping the handle on the ice-cold pitcher of water that she had just placed on the table a few short moments ago, and she promptly dumped the entire contents over his head.

She was fuming. Every moment they spent together that summer came rushing back to her . . . along with the months of heartache that came afterward. “How dare you,” she exclaimed angrily, throwing the pitcher back on the ground as she ignored the yells of protest and shock from the men around him. She hopped over the bar counter and headed into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of whiskey along the way. She hopped onto one of the bar stools next to the grill and looked at AJ, still in shock from everything that just happened.

“Taking a break?” He asked, tearing his eyes away from the deep-fryer for a moment to take in her flustered appearance.

“I think I’m getting fired,” she said angrily.

#trr fanfic #trr #choices #choices: stories you play #playchoices #choices fandom #choices the royal romance #choices trr #trr fic #the royal romance #theroyalromance #the royal romance fan fic #liam x mc #liam x riley

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chimchiminiekookie · 6 years

Text

To All the Boys I've Loved Before | 1

Summary: Whenever you have a crush so intense, you write him a love letter, you pour your heart and soul onto that letter as if he'd never ever read it. Because he never does. You've never sent out the letters you've written, every handwritten word filled to the brim with you deepest desires and feeling for the person. They're your most sacred possessions... except the letters are out.

Pariring: Jungkook x reader

Word count: 7,008

Author's note: I'll update the summary and note and word count, I just need a little time, I'm deadass tired. My eyes are literally closing as I type. Alright! So i really love the book series and the movie just pushed me further to get this written. I'm just on an inspiratio binge right now. Lol. Hope you guys love it!

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When you were younger, you had a habit of collecting. Most people liked collecting rocks, or stamps, and in your little sister’s case, they collected strangely shaped crunchy leaves during the fall season. You weren’t like most people though. You liked to collect memories, and sketches of faces of people who inspired you, you collected strange cookie cutter shapes like one in the shape of a nose. It wasn’t until you were 9 when you decided to start saving the important things instead of collecting a lot of different types of a single object. Now, most people saved whales, the environment (yes to zero waste!), and even people, but that wasn’t you. You liked to save small bells, small glass objects like rabbits or hats, ribbons, and most importantly, love letters.

When you were 8, your mom gave you a teal hatbox, not too small, but not that big either, just the perfect size to put love letters in. Not love letters written to you though, you don’t have anything quite like that, you’ve never received one, but you have wrote them. Whenever you have a crush so intense, you write them as a farewell to your feelings, all your hopes, dreams, and desires for that person is fueled into that love letter, you write them as if the ones the letters are addressed to will never read them, because they never will, you never send them out and you never will. Once you finish the letter, it’s as if the feelings are gone, you’re able to go about your day not wondering what they were doing or who they were with, whether they liked to dip fries into ketchup or squirt ketchup all over them.

Every boy you’ve ever seriously liked in the past has one - there are a total of five boys. Chani from Camp Wakanaka, Kookie from middle school, Park Jimin from Model UN, Hoseok from Freshman Homecoming, and -

“Hey there Poppy, where’s Y/N?” your head pops up in the direction of your closed door.

You rush downstairs, just in time to see your big sister Irene and Namjoon holding hands while walking towards the kitchen. Kim Namjoon is your next door neighbor, but he spends almost every waking moment over at your house. Everyone in this house loves him, your dad who is a gynecologist has been surrounded by girls his whole life, which is why your dad loves him like a long lost son, your youngest sister Poppy, who everyone calls Pop loves him, especially when they play uno, and Namjoon lets her win all she wants without ever getting bored like Irene and I. For your older sister Irene? Well she loves him because everyone at home loves him, especially for that reason.

Everyone sits around the dinner table, as Namjoon passes your spot to get to his directly across from you, he ruffles your hair like a big brother would do to a little sister and gives you a fist bump, your dad who’s made another Korean Delicacy is already trying to saw through the charcoaled ribs. You and your sisters call your dad’s Korean food delicacies because they were just that. You’d never be able to find food quite like that, even in Korea, although you also wouldn’t be able to digest it correctly either.

Irene, ever the competent one, silently stands up to collect the tray and brings it to the kitchen where she fires up the electric knife.

Pop groans, “Ugh, I can’t believe we won’t see her until Thanksgiving.” she pouts.

“Which is why you should do the dishes tonight instead of Rere.” Rere is what you called Irene, pronounced like the singer, “So she doesn’t have to stay up tonight and she can finish all her packing and be ready early tomorrow morning for her flight.”

Pop rolls her eyes at you, “I said I couldn’t believe it, not that I want her to be on time tomorrow.” she takes a sip of her water, “And besides, the only reason I said that was because she’s not gonna be around anymore to give me rides to school, so now I’m stuck with you.”

Of course, in this household, your dad and Irene were the ones everyone counted on to drive. Last year, you and Pop would always catch a rude to school with Irene, but now that she’ll be leaving, you have been given the responsibility to drive Pop to school, and you were a terrible driver.

“Well, you guys could always get a ride with me.” Namjoon offers, “Besides, I’m not going anywhere.” He offers you a wink and you can’t help but smile.

“What I miss?” Irene comes strolling in, tray of cut up pork ribs in her hands and saying that she looks like the perfect stay at home mom would be an understatement, but that isn’t Irene.

Poppy giggles deviously, “We were just talking about how much of a bad driver Y/N is.”

“But we were also talking about your flight and how you won’t be coming home for Thanksgiving this year, so…” He holds up his index finger in anticipation as he dug around his pocket for a folded up piece of paper, handing it over to Irene, “I thought I’d bring a little piece of home to you.” his face and smile is bright, waiting for Irene to run over and hug him, but that never happens.

You look over at Irene who stopped putting pork ribs on your plate, “You already booked the ticket?” her face is dowbcast, her eyebrows knit together and her mouth a thin line, Irene was not happy.

Namjoon’s smile dissipates in realization, “ W-well yeah. I’ve had my google alerts set on for flights to Scotland ever since you decided you’d go to university there.”

The room is tense, so tense, that not even your dad is smiling, just looking between Irene and Namjoon because he’d never know who to side with on this one, and then just when you’re about to excuse yourself to your room to give the two their privacy, Poppy speaks up, “Mmmm, just like how mom used to make.” she gives a fake smile and scrunches her nose slightly, not even trying to make us believe that she’s telling the truth.

You sat at your desk which was propped against the window, and while you had your glue gun in your hand to continue on your scrapbook for Irene, you look past the window right at Irene and Namjoon as they bickered intensely, Irene was mad that Namjoon caught her blandished and embarrassed her in front of the family, while Namjoon was mad because Irene didn’t even seem the least bit happy about his surprise for her. Then that was it. You decide to close your curtain because this was none of your business, it felt intimate, something Irene’s little sisters shouldn’t be seeing, so instead, you go downstairs to bake some snickerdoodles for Irene to bring onto the plane tomorrow.

Whale rolling the dough into small balls in the palm of your hand, Irene comes in, silently closing the door behind her no Namjoon in sight. She sits at the island and starts typing on her already opened laptop. You two continue like that, you silently baking, and her silently typing.

“I broke up with Namjoon.”

The cookie dough ball falls right off your palm as your eyes widen and your mouth is agape, “What?! Wait, what? How? Why? When? Seriously?”

Her voice is straight, steady, not even a quiver of sadness, “It was time.” she shrugs, “Mommy always told me never to go to college with a boyfriend.”

She looked fine, not even a trace of a single tear, no, because that wasn’t Irene. Irene was always fine, she never cried and she always remained calm, and even when she wasn’t fine, she was.

You grab the ball of dough that fell in the sugar bowl earlier, “Well, I don’t see the point, Rere.”

She stops typing on her laptop to look at you, “The point is, Y/N. I’m going to a university thousands of miles away, keeping a relationship with him just isn’t practical. 95% of long distance relationships don’t last, I was just saving him future heartbreak.”

Ah, yes. This was a hundred percent Irene, always thinking with her head and never her heart, “Won’t work out? You can’t be serious, this is Namjoon we’re talking about, there is not a single guy out there who has ever loved a girl as much as he’s loved you.”

She rolls her eyes at that, but it was true, Namjoon loved Irene like no boy has ever loved a girl, in his eyes, there was only Irene, nobody else.

She shuts her laptop, already looking like she’s going to lecture me, “Mommy always said not to have a boyfriend in entering college because she never wants us to be the type of girls who cried to their boyfriends on the phone and say no to things and experiences instead of yes.”

She really thinks Namjoon will hold her back? Looking at Irene now, Was Scotland the first yes? To throw away a two year relationship because she was afraid that saying no to Scotland would be one of her biggest regrets? Were we also sacrifices she had to make for her dreams?

You walk over to sit next to Irene, “It’s just my two cents, but I don’t think Namjoon would ever hold you back. I remember when you ran for student body president and even though Namjoon wanted to run, he supported you throughout and was even here at god knows what time just to make your posters. He’s always supported you, Rere.” You look over at the clock, “If you hurry, it’s still not too late to go over there and take back what you said. I’m a hundred percent sure Namjoon would gladly get back together with you.”

Irene shakes her head, “It’s been done, Y/N. I’ve already decided.” If there’s one thing I know about Irene, it’s that when she makes her mind up about something, that’s it. She never changes her mind.

When you’ve finished up in the kitchen and Irene’s gone to bed, you climb up to your room, you grab your teal hatbox and set it on your desk, you look over at Namjoon’s house, his light was still on. You take the top off of the teal hatbox, the letters were neatly on top of each other from oldest going up, your latest love letter on the top most of the small stack all of them neatly tied together with a silver fabric ribbon that goes beautifully with your teal hatbox, you found it at a yard sale tied to a teddy bear that you gave to Poppy.

In your neat cursive handwriting is ‘Kim Namjoon’ along with his address and zip code below, this Kim Namjoon is the same one next door who was still up trying to make sense of what just happened, he is Irene’s Namjoon, but before that, he was your Namjoon. You smile sadly at the letter just before putting it back in the hatbox and putting the hatbox away on your topmost shelf in your closet. Absolutely nobody knew about your letters, they were your most private and sacred possessions.

___________

“Y/N, hurry up! I have to be at the airport three hours before my flight!” Irene’s obviously already prepared, without a beat.

Meanwhile, you’ve been debating on whether you should wear sunglasses or not for at least 10 minutes, you decide to bring them anyway, and just not wear them if you decide against it.

“Three hours? Honey, I think it’s supposed to be two. What are you gonna do there for three hours?” Your dad loads Irene’s suitcases in the trunk.

You look over at Namjoon’s house, just as Irene gets in, you see him sitting on his car’s opened hood, that pained expression on his face, his eyes red and swollen, he’d been crying over your sister. When you were growing up, Irene always had a Philosophy, if something no longer useful, you either donate it, recycle it, or throw it away. Looking at Namjoon now, you always knew that’s how Irene felt about objects… but you knew thought that she’d feel that way about a person.

At the airport, Irene’s giving her last goodbye hugs, strictly no tears, because Irene hates emotional goodbyes.

She pouts cutely at Poppy, “C’mere kid.” she opens her arms to Pop who’s already in her arms.

She looks over to you, the one standing the farthest away, and opens her arms silently, you want to be mad at Irene, to pick a University thousands of miles away, to leave you all behind, but you don’t think you could handle becoming the no that your mother warned her about, so you walk into her arms, as she gives you an extra tight squeeze.

“Gonna be okay?” she mumbles into your shoulder.

You break apart first, sticking your hands in your pockets, “Did you really have to pick the farthest college you could think of?”

She places her hand on your cheek, slowly caressing it, “You know I’m just a skype call away if you guys need me, Y/N.”

You stare down at your boots, “Yeah, maybe, until you start going to pubs and hanging out with Scottish University students and eating- ugh, Haggis and then you’ve already forgotten about us.”

She give you a tiny smile, a very Irene smile, “Y/N, I can promise you on my grave that I would never ever eat Haggis.” she makes a disgusted face, “You’re in charge now, alright? You the biggest sister now, you need to set a good example for Poppy alright? Also, don’t forget to clean your room when you get home.”

Your dad and Poppy come back with a small stack of magazines, something you already know Irene wouldn’t read. Knowing her, she’s already packed her favorite series of books for reading on the plane. You all give Irene one lads group hug, before she’s squirming from underneath your small hugging pile.

“Alright, I gotta go.” she grins at the three of you, looking the happiest she’s been in a long while, “See you on Christmas!” she blows kisses to everyone and then all the three of you see is her back.

You put your arm around Pop’s shoulders, “Think she’ll turn around, Y/N?”

You shake your head no quietly, “Nah, that’s not Irene.” you wish you were wrong, but you weren’t. Things with Irene were always definite, no turn backs, no looking behind, and this was one of those moments.

The moment between you three was a tender one, at least until Poppy goes, “Can we have a dog now?” and your dad is in stitches laughing at the great attempt to take advantage of the situation.

For the next week, all you do is scrapbook, try to clean your room, and lay around. No sign of Namjoon at all since he and Irene broke up, and all too soon, it’s already the morning of your first day of class.

You wait outside in front of your house holding up small rectangular chalkboards with your grade number on it, you with a Grade 11 board and Poppy with a Grade 6 board. You dad holds up his phone, and he instantly notices how difficult you were being. Honestly it was because of the thought that you were going to be driving.

He puts the phone down, “Come on, Y/N. It’ll only rake a second, I’m gonna send this to Irene.”

You sigh before giving him a smile, with Poppy next to you, smiling brightly while yelling, “Cheese!”

He puts the phone down after taking a few shots, “I can’t believe it.” He shakes his head fondly, “6th grade and Junior year.”

You put the chalkboard down, “Alright, ready to go?” you turn towards Poppy.

She looks at you, and then to the keys in your hands before she jumps in realization, “Wait just one sec!” she pushes her chalkboard in your hands before rushing inside and coming back outside equally as fast except this time, she had a pink sparkly helmet on.

You dad takes the chalkboard from you hands, getting in his car, “You guys look great! Drive safe alright? I gotta get going. I love you guys!”

You hold a small hand up quietly as a good bye and you turn towards Poppy, frowning, “Very funny.”

She looks at you while adjusting the straps, “Very necessary.” she states in a matter of factly tone.

________

You walk through the hallway, passing by Namjoon’s locker right as he’s unloading his books, your eyes meet, and then he gives you a slight wave that you return while walking backwards, slamming straight into someone’s locker, shutting the metallic door.

“Ow!”

You instantly straighten yourself out, you knew that voice, “Oh my God! Tzuyu!”

She turns to you, eyes wide, already angry and she speaks through gritted teeth, “Excuse you.”

“I-I’m so sorry.” You shake your head, “I was- I wasn’t paying attention.”

She folds her arms across her chest, voice dripping with disgust, “Oh. It’s you.”

Tzuyu. This is Tzuyu, you two used to be best friends, playing together all summer, and her sleeping over at your house for weeks, sharing secrets and telling each other your crushes, but after middle school with reasons having to do with her becoming popular and your lack thereof you two were now decidedly not. Tzuyu was beautiful, most girls in high school are pretty, but Tzuyu’s level of prettiness was top notch even up against college girls, much so that when you asked Namjoon who he thought was the prettiest girl was for each grade level during your freshman year, he picked Tzuyu out of all the Freshman girls, including you.

She stares at you up and down, “Cute boots.” she gives you a smile oozing with plasticity, “Gonna go around stomping on cockroaches with those? I’ll be sure to call you if I find a cockroach in the girls bathroom later.”

Your voice is stuck in your throat, you were always prepared for Tzuyu, but not this time this time around you didn’t even expect to see her on the first day, much less have a confrontation with her. You head starts to lower when an arm finds it way draped around your shoulders.

“And they’re the bomb! Those are definitely hard to pull off, and you, Y/N are definitely pulling them off.” She looks down at Tzuyu’s stiletto clad feet, “Can’t wait to see you in P.E running in those… eye pokers, cous.”

Lalisa. Lisa, Tzuyu’s cousin, your best friend. Practically your only friend, she had a habit of disappearing and sneaking out, usually to go dancing, Lisa loved to dance, but her mom hates it when Lisa does so, saying she’d never have a solid career through dancing. You loved it when Lisa dances though, she looks like a wood nymph in your eyes whenever she dances.

Tzuyu’s eyes fire up, already pissed at seeing her cousin this early in the morning, Lisa’s hatred for Tzuyu was completely mutual, “Oh screw you, Lalisa, at least I don’t hook up with a different guy every other night.”

Ah, yes. Lisa does have that reputation. She never comments on it, but you’ve known her and been with her long enough to know that these rumors were absolutely true. But that’s part of the reason why you two get along so much, you never say anything about it because you didn’t need to, even if that’s how she is, you’ve always accepted her, and all without her needing to say anything.

A voice calls out from the students passing by, “Babe.” and then in front of you, the golden boy himself Jungkook embraces Tzuyu from behind.

Tzuyu never takes her eyes off of you, “oh, hi~” her voice is sing song, taunting that you don’t have what she does, Jeon Jungkook.

She grabs onto his arm draped across her chest that connects with the hand he has on his bicep, “How are you?”

You see the way Jungkook looks at Tzuyu, nothing but affection, but even he can’t be blind at how much of a bitch his girlfriend is.

“I’m good, how are you?” Seeing Tzuyu like this, it made you sick, not in the jealous type of way, much the sickly sweet type of way. Ugh.

He raises his eyebrows, “I’m good.” He turns his sight from Tzuyu to you and Lisa, and gives you a tiny nod.

If you think of your letters in your teal hatbox, second to the bottom of your small stack of letters is for Kookie. This is him now, Jeon Jungkook, golden boy, but back the in middle school, he was just plain old Kookie. By eighth grade, he was finally allowed to play in the soccer club at school and ever since then he’s never been called Kookie, he was either, Jungkook, Kook, J.K., or Jeon, eighth grade was also the year Tzuyu and him started going out.

“I was just asking Y/N here to be a dear and put her boots to good use and squash some stupid cockroaches.” Jungkook’s mouth falls into a thin line, unable to say anything.

You give the couple a practically murderous close mouth smile, afraid that if you open your mouth in anyway, you’d just say something you regret and you exchange a look, the look, with Lisa. She gives you the same one, yeah. She understand completely.

“I see someone we need to say hi to…” she looks over a you and rolls her eyes, “Bye.” and the she’s off.

She didn’t. But that was her way of showing you how much of an outcast you were, she was someone important who needed to say hi to people, and you were nothing. It worked. Jungkook clears his throat.

“She’s on this new no caffeine diet. I think that’s just withdrawal kicking in.” he laughs awkwardly.

You smile at Jungkook, “Are you sure she’s not just psychotic?”

Lisa snorts a laugh, “Yeah or maybe she’s possessed, you know Kook, it you want, I know an exorcist. I’ll send you the number later.” she gives him a cheeky wink.

Come lunch time, you are stuck standing in the middle of the cafeteria. You know, you know. This is a high school cliché, but it’s real. There was no place for you here. The only ones who ate in the cafeteria are the popular kids and groups of friends, and that includes Jungkook with his soccer buddies and Tzuyu’s snotty group of friends, all you had was Lisa, and even then, she’s already ditched you to grab a bite at Subway.

It takes you half of the lunch period to find a place to quietly eat your carrots, and even the you’re unsure if you could go there just because that spot was sacred. It was Namjoon’s and your spot and when Namjoon and Irene got together, it became Namjoon’s, Irene’s, and your lunch spot. You half expect Namjoon to eat somewhere else, like his Comic Club or his movie club room but he’s here with an open bag of chips next to him, and an earphone popped into one ear while he reads Paulo Coelho. You approach him slowly, easily, he looks up, he looks kind of taken aback at your hidden presence, but he puts his earphones away nonetheless.

He gives you a small sad smile, “Hey.”

You inch closer to the bleachers, “This seat taken?”

He scoots just the tiniest bit to his right, “Yeah, well, by you I mean.”

You plop down next to him, it all feels awkward and you’re about to speak up on it, when he lifts his head.

“Sorry.” He places his bookmark in his book, “I gotta ask… Did you know? Like did Ire- Did she tell you she was gonna do it?”

You notice his voice cracks just the tiniest bit at the mention of Irene’s name so he corrects himself and refers to her as ‘she’

He kicks some invisible dust on the ground, “I just- I don’t know. I figured you guys talked about everything, right? So…”

You could hear the pain in his voice. No matter how calm he remained, you could hear the quiver, the nerves he had to go through to ask just this one simple harmless little question. You shake your head, “No, she didn't tell me about this.”

He sighs, looking at the ground and shaking his head, “But, like, we’re still good right?” This makes you smile, “We can still talk, and I can still come over for dinner.”

“Of course you can Namjoon, my dad would probably ball his eyes out if he didn’t see you at least once or twice a week.” you laugh.

He looks back at you, “Heh. Yeah, I guess you’re right. I guess, I just don’t wanna lose you too.”

That’s when you smile disappears, because hearing, ‘I don’t want to lose you.’ and ‘I don’t want to lose you too’ are two largely different statements. One meant he didn’t want to lose you, he couldn’t handling losing you alone, but the other meant he couldn’t lose you and your sister, your sister especially, you were still only second to Irene.

“We’re still cool Namjoon, but I refuse to become a child of divorce from this breakup.” you giggle, opening your bag of carrots, “Want a carrot?”

He nods slowly finally putting the closed book in his hands down beside him, “Yeah, alright, Give me the carrot.” He offers you an earbud, the other already placed on his ear as the two of you munched on carrots.

This may seem like it looks strange, but it was real, it was genuine, the two of you were okay, maybe even better than okay, and whatever feelings you had for Namjoon? Well, that’s the one thing you’d never in a million years do to Irene.

__________

Poppy takes off her helmet upon getting off the car and inside the house, “Y/N, are we having scrambled eggs again for dinner?” she rolls her eyes.

You gulp, one of the things you were avoiding was grocery shopping just because you were still scared of driving, but even you had to admit that eating scrambled eggs for dinner was terrible and frankly? It was very unhealthy, “No, I’ll go get groceries, just do your homework and if anyone knocks, look who it is first before you open the door.” you put your backpack down on the sofa and grab your wallet and keys.

The trip to the grocery store is a nightmare, but you do manage to get there without a scratch, that is enough to put you at ease, enough to have you making different turns at shortcuts that would normally put you off because knew you wouldn’t be able to recognize these street signs and the only thing that would help you get home are the landmarks you pass by, like that doggy playground, when you passed by that, you were still in the middle, not too far from home, but not too close either, probably a ten minute drive, or a twenty minute walk. The moment you see the playground, you are absolutely ecstatic, you grin from ear to ear, unknowingly running a stop sign and just as fast as you got excited over the dog park, you were shell shocked at the sudden impact from a car that crashes straight into the side of your car. You stay in your car, hands and knees shaking, afraid. The other driver pulls over, gets out of his car and knocks on your window. Slowly you roll then down.

“Kid, running a stop sign is dangerous-” he begins his lecture but the moment he sees the tears already welling up in your eyes, he sighs, “Look, my car’s fine, I won’t be able to help you with your car, but if you want I can give you a ride home.”

You quickly shake your head, “No! It’s-it’s fine, I’ll just call my neighbor. Thank you though.” If Irene were here, she’d tell you to never trust strangers and never get in a car with them, but then again, jf Irene was here, you wouldn’t even need to drive in the first place. He gets back in his car and drives off as you stand next to your car, what would your dad think, what would he say? What would Irene say? Oh God, she’ll be so disappointed.

A minute passes before you decide to call Namjoon, on the second ring he answers, and you can’t help but cry.

“Hello? Y/N? What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

You sniffle and try to sound as clearly as possible, “Namjoon? C-c-could you come get me? I’m here at that dog park, I just got in a car-car accident.” you try to choke back the tears.

You hear the intake of breath he makes when you mention ‘car accident’, “Shit, where are you? I’ll come get you.”

You look around, not seeing any street signs, “I-I-I’m by this dog park-”

“That’s like twenty minutes away.” he sighs, “Alright, I’m on my way I’ll have to walk though, so I can drive your car home.”

You sniffle, “Yeah, that’s fine.”

He pauses for a moment, “Want me to stay on the phone while you wait?”

You shake your head before realizing that he couldn’t see you, “No, no, no. It’s okay. I’ll manage. See you in a bit.” you hang up first, because knowing Kim Namjoon, he’d never let you wait by the roadside for him without any company.

A few minutes tick by before you decide to sit on the curb with you head bowed on your knees.

“Y/L/N? Hey. You good?”

You look up. to find Jeon Jungkook, his left elbow placed on his opened window and his right hand on the wheel.

You blink a few times at him, “Yeah, I’m good.” with a tear stained face, you know it looked far from the truth, but what would you expect Jungkook to do about it? You make a hand motion to get him to go on his way and he rolls up the tinted window of his Audi, and goes off, except he only goes forward a few feet and parks his car right in front of yours and gets out of the car, sitting on the curb with you.

“It looks pretty bad.” He takes a look at the dent on the side of the car, is the other driver okay?”

You put your head back on your knees, turning your head to look at him, “No, his car was completely fine.”

He goes back and sits next to you, and places his head on his knees as well, staring back at you, “So, how long have you been crying?”

You quickly wipe at your cheeks with the sleeves of you shirt, “I-I wasn’t crying. You don’t have to keep me company here, you know.”

He looks up, as if he were thinking of something, “Yeah, I know, but I can’t leave you here either.”

This is one of Jeon Jungkook’s charms. Everybody loves him, everybody. Even back in middle school when you, Tzuyu, Jungkook, and Jimin hung out together, he was still the best among everyone there. Of all the boys you had gone to middle school with, Jungkook was the first to grow taller, he was always optimistic, and had this boyish charm about him that he still had to this day.

His phone makes a sound and automatically he unlocks it to find numerous texts from Tzuyu, “You should get going. Tzuyu’ll get mad if you’re late.”

He stands upright, “You good here though, right? You already feel better?”

You nod your head, “Yeah. Thanks for keeping me company, that was really nice of you.”

The grin on Jungkook’s face is unmatched, Jungkook loves positive reinforcement, “See you around, Ace.” and then he’s off.

You smile at the nickname. He gave you that nickname back in the 7th grade when you were able to get all straight A’s even though Mrs. Bae’s Biology was one of the hardest classes to pass and almost everybody got a C or lower, except you.

“Hey.”

You look up and relief washes over you, “Namjoon!”

He gives you a dimpled smile, “Come on, let’s get you home.”

The ride back home is quiet, but not because it’s awkward, but because you were worrying about how you’d tell your dad. You decided that maybe, first telling him not to get mad would be the best choice and then explaining that you aren’t hurt but there’s a huge dent on the car after the accident. That’s probably the one that will make him less angry.

Namjoon chuckles from beside you, “Now that your sister’s broken up with me, you won’t even talk to me?”

You could sense half a truth in his statement, even is he laughs it off like a joke, you don’t answer, but he continues on talking, “You know, me ending up with Irene, surprised me as well.” he shakes his head thinking about it, “Especially since I had a crush on you first.”

You almost gag on air, did he just say he had a crush on me?

He laughs awkwardly, “I mean, when we first moved here, i had a pretty big crush on you, and I even let you borrow my bike, and you were putting on such a show about how you knew how to ride a bike but it turns out you didn’t even know how to use the brakes and when it fell over, you cried so much, and that was the end of my little crush on you.” he laughs, “You looked really ugly when you cried back then.” he teases you.

He pulls to a stop in your driveway, “Want me to come with you to break the news?”

You think back to that whole lecture Irene gave you about being responsible now so you suck it up, and even though you do want Namjoon there just so your dad feels extra happy to see him, you decline, “Nah, I’ll handle it.”

He holds his hands up in surrender, “Whatever you say.” He starts walking away before he looks back, “I’ll come over for dinner tomorrow so tell your dad to make something extra delicious for you guest.” he gives you a wink.

When you break the news to your dad, he isn’t even mad, just relieved that you’re alright, but he does take it to his go to repairman which is at least two to three towns over, that leaves you in charge with Poppy.

So you laze around in the couch, watching 10 Things I Hate About You with Poppy.

“I miss Namjoon.” she sighs.

You shrug, “Yeah, movies don’t feel quite the same without him around, huh?”

Poppy looks over at you, “Yeah! His Heath Ledger impressions are spot on!” she pouts, “By the way, Y/N?”

You sit up, alarmed at the sudden seriousness in Poppy’s voice, “Hm?”

She lays her head in your lap, “Don’t you find it just the ittiest bittiest pathetic that it’s Saturday night, and you’re spending it watching rom coms with your 11 year old sister?”

You brush her hair with your fingers and shrug, “Not at all. I love romcoms and more importantly, I love hanging out with you.”

She lets out a sigh and shuts her eyes, “Alright, well I’m not telling you this to embarrass you or anything, but I’m 11, and I even cancelled a sleepover, to be here tonight, but you’re already 16, and I don’t think you even had anything to do tonight.”

You furrow your eyebrows, “Uh, that is mean, Pop!”

Poppy sits up, shrugging, “The truth hurts, Y/N.”

Come end of the movie, you’ve already fallen fast asleep right after Heath’s big number for Kat.

__________

You run track with Lisa, you’d think her long legs meant that she’d be great at this but you’ve only just started and she’s already wheezing and coughing, but she catches up to you nonetheless probably also because you did slow down just for her sake.

“So… what did… you do last night?” she has to take breaths in between to keep from wheezing anymore than what she was even when she wasn’t talking.

“I watched some movies with Pop.” you shrugs, “James Gordon Levitt is hot.”

She rolls her eyes, “I told you, you should have come with me to that hooping event in the town over, I even got to become a hula hoop girl and everything!” she begins to lag behind you again, “And just so we’re clear, Heath Ledger is hottie in that movie.”

“Hey!” you look behind to find Jungkook already running towards the two of you, “Hey, can I talk to you?”

You look at him incredulously, “Me?”

He nods slowly, “Yeah.”

Lisa takes advantage of the situation so she can stop running, “Hey JK, I hear my cousin dumped you for some college hunk, is that true?”

He scoffs and looks away, ego definitely injured, “Yeah, Lisa, I hurt you have horns, is that true as well?”

Lisa laughs out loud, “Of course it is! I mean the devil’s my cousin afterall.” you can’t help but giggle at that one.

“Alright, well I need to talk to Y/N.”

Lisa has her arm over your shoulder, “Alright, go ahead, we’re listening.”

He places his hands on his hips when Lisa doesn’t move, “Alone please?”

Lisa gets the meaning behind the words slowly, but she still saves face, “Oh, yeah, just uh, if you any one of you need me, I’ll be in the nurse’s office, ogling Taeyong over there, running track shirtless.” she shoots you a wink.

You clasp your hands together, “Alright, sorry about Chris.”

He wrings his hands together, thinking of what he needs to say, “Uh, ehem. I just wanted to that that um. Look, I appreciate it, but it’s never gonna happen. I mean I think it’s pretty cool that you think I have golden specks in my eyes, but Tzuyu and I just broke up.” he even shakes his head in emphasis.

You tilt your head in confusion, genuinely confused at what he was going on about, “Excuse me?”

He claps his hands together when he remembers something else, “That also reminds me!” In a quiet voice, Jungkook clarifies “Just so you know, I really don’t have any STDs. I’m perfectly clean.”

Huh? STD’s when have you ever? You stare at him, your mouth wide open in both shock and confusion, “ I don’t remember ever saying you had an STD!”

He maintains the quietness in his voice but he definitely sounded angry, “Also, I don’t always take the last piece of pizza, at least not when I know somebody wants it.”

Everything Jungkook was saying was news to you, you two have barely talked since eighth grade, what do STDs and Pizzas have to do with anything, “Sorry, but what are you talking about?”

He looks frustrated, “That’s what you put. In your letter. You wrote that I’m this egotistical boy who gives girls STDs. Remember?”

Letter? You haven’t written one in a while, much less, one to Jeon Jungkook, “What letter? I don’t recall ever writing you any letter!” Actually, you did, but he doesn’t know that. It couldn’t be that letter because that letter is stashes safely in your teal hatbox at home.

He chuckles butterly, “Yes. You. Did. It was addressed to me, from you. If you’re gonna write me a letter like that, at least remember what you put into it.”

This isn’t happening. This isn’t reality. You must be dreaming. What Jungkook is doing in your dream? You’ll never know, but this can’t possibly be real.

He starts mumbling to himself, “Alright, you don’t remember, hold on.” he fishes around in his pockets before settling on his back pocket and pulling out a classy looking envelope made of specialty paper, your specialty envelopes for letters and whatnot and oh God, he has his letter. You feel lightheaded and before you lose consciousness, you hear Jungkook yell out before it all goes to black.

“Y/N? Y/N. Hey, are you alright? I think you fainted.” Jungkook’s already kneeling next to you, helping you up when you tell him that you were okay.

His eyebrows are furrowed, “Want me to get someone? Anyone? Maybe get you some water or anything?”

You shake your head, “No, no, I’m good. But I will take that back, you yank the letter out of his grasp, and then you get the impulse to look up at the lunch tables near the grass area, and already making his way towards you was Kim Namjoon, blue envelope in his hand and his messenger bag in the other.

Realization hits you, “Oh my God.” you number as you remember every kiss you witness between him and Irene, all the tiny smiles he gave you, you had to do something about this, and the fact that he wasn’t even stopping and has shifted his sight onto you already has you panicking, “Oh my God!”

In that moment, you do what you can. You grab Jungkook by the shoulders and push him towards the ground, kissing him, he’s in shock but he does end up kissing you back, even securing his hands on your back and waist. You pull apart from him when Coach Sand gets your attention, making you run three extra full laps.

You look at Jungkook, his eyes wide and confused, you pat him on the chest, “Thank you.” you manage to say.

He looks at your retreating figure, his letter clenched tightly in your hand, “You’re welcome!”

#Jungkook #kookie #bts #bangtan #jungkook fic #jungkook fsnfic #jimin #namjoon #taehyung #jin #jhope #yoongi #hoseok #jungkook scenario #inspired by to all the boys ive loved before #mixture of both movie and book

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