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stripper-patrick · 4 years

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I like the barbies💓, but I want the Bratz😈Steve Rogers

Warnings: language, fluff, smut, dom!Steve, choking, degradation, oral (m), angst, angry!Steve, fingering, fluff, crying, slight sub!Steve

Tags: @rebellious-desires @mrsbanreswillseeyou @eclecticblkgirl

Relationship: Steve Rogers x black plus sized reader

Steve called a mandatory meeting but I’m not sure for what and I’m interested to see what he’s gonna say.

“Y/N” Scott calls and I turn around meeting him.

“Hey Scott”

“You look beautiful today” I can tell he likes me but usually I don’t pay attention because I’m so busy with work. See I work as a nurse but strictly for the avengers team. I interned for Stark and he hired me after a month seeing how good I work under pressure. Then that’s when I met Steve. They brought him to me when he was fresh out of the ice to which I took care of him as well as catching him up on the 66 years of history he had missed. He took a liking towards me and soon we started our best friendship which turned into a sexual relationship. I’d enjoy more but I don’t wanna ruin what we have so l handle this for now.

Me and Scott walk and talk together to the conference room where he opens the door for me “oh my god I’m so tired of wearing scrubs really I’d prefer to be in a big t-shirt and nothing else” I laugh. I notice I’ve caught Steve’s attention by that sentence. His blue eyes study my features of a short t-shirt dress and my silk-pressed ashy brown hair flowing gloriously on my shoulders with each step I take.

“Well I’m sure a lot of male patients would be very aroused by how good you’d look in either attire I know I would” I blush laughing and I catch a Steve’s eyes. The once ice blue orbs now turned into electric with what looks like lust and anger. Steve always was possessive but seeing as we aren’t together you’d think he’d let little things like this slide. But we’re both wrong.

Everyone piles in at once and we all sit down waiting for what Steve has to say. “For starters I’d like to thank everyone for coming to the meeting and as we know there’s a special event tonight the ultimate Christmas party Tony famously hosts every year but we don’t want it to be like the last time where we we’re attacked by robots which is something I never thought I’d said in my 99 years of life” he chuckles “let’s remember to have fun but keep the compound secure and safe as well”

“That was all you called us for?” Scott asks. He had a tendency to get under Steve’s skin often bringing up his past and on one occasion he even mentioned our extraordinary 74 year ago gap and Steve nearly put him in a full Nelson.

“It is is there a problem?” I can see Steve is boiling but I don’t know why

“No problem at all captain” he chuckles

“Good everyone’s dismissed” he calls “except for Y/N” my heart starts beating faster and I watch everyone leave. I avoid eye contact with Steve but the second I catch him (gif), I feel my wetness start to collect between my thighs. The door is shut and I stand up walking towards him. I do a half sit on the table as he strides towards me placing his hands on either sides of my hips coming about eye level to me. The smell of his mint toothpaste and Armani cologne is breathtaking.

“I don’t like how he talks to you or even looks at you”

“Who Scott? We’re just friends”

“He wants you Y/N and I’m sure he has a sense that something is going on between us so if he could he’d taste you right in front of me” Steve parts my legs stepping between them

“Nonsense Steve it’s not even like that. You’re just being over-protective and jealous. For what? I don’t know”

“Because you’re mine” his hand slides between my thighs as his calloused finger rubs my wet clit before sliding between my folds. My upper body slouches down as I push my hands behind me on the table to keep my balance. My eyes shut and I bite my lip holding back a moan.

“How can that be the case yet we’re not together?” I ask

“That doesn’t mean you aren’t mine” he says sliding a finger in. My body opens up to him. I’m feeling so many different emotions. Mad, sexually frustrated, horny, appalled. I don’t know what to do. He continues pumping slowly to torture me. My body shakes and he holds up my chin forcing me to look into his eyes. Steve curls his fingers making my body jolt. He moves his hand in a quick all-of-a-sudden pace slamming on my g-spot. My body rocks and my moans get louder. Steve covers my mouth “be a good girl for me and cum on my hand princess” my legs shake and next thing I know I’m convulsing against him trying to press my thighs together. My back arches as he pumps me dry. Once I come to my sense I watch Steve lick his fingers with a smirk.

“If you want me to officially” I stand up slowly watching him take a step back “you know what to do” I walk out going straight to my room. I take a deep breath as my wobbly legs force me to sit on the nearby chair. I’ve gotta start getting ready for this party. I bring myself together walking to the shower turning it on hot.

.....

I’m all dressed and ready for the party and I hear a bunch of people downstairs and the slow jazz music awaiting. I take one last look on the mirror at my outfit which is white mid rise bell bottoms, a double breasted blazer and a lace white bra that exposes the breast tattoo Steve likes so much. I grab my bedazzled clear heels sliding them on before heading downstairs. I stand at the top of the steps just grabbing some alone time before I merge with the crowd. A body slides next to me and I think it’s Steve until I meet eyes with someone else. Scott.

“Oh my god Y/N you look incredible” I smile thanking him keeping my eyes on the crowd “Jesus if I were Steve I wouldn’t let you walk out like that” I chuckle

“Scott I do what I want relationship or not”

“Speaking of what’s going between you and the crypt keeper” he takes a sip of his drink and I feel eyes burning into me. I look down seeing Steve staring right back at me. Sharon is staring at him like she hasn’t eaten in days and I feel my blood boil. He excuses himself and I watch him walk towards the steps.

“Nothing we’re just friends and coworkers”

“Hmm” he hums in disapproval. Steve meets us at the top with a fake smile on his face.

“Excuse me Scott I’d like to borrow Y/N for a minute” he grabs my arm whisking me away without even allowing Scott to comply.

Steve takes me to a dimly lit hallway and I yank my arm away “have you lost your damn mind” by this point I’m pissed. I get that Steve has attachment issues but that doesn’t mean he can control who I talk to let alone get mad that another guy is giving me attention when all he does is work and fuck me.

“Maybe. What the hell are you doing after I told you Scott is trying to get what’s mine”

“Steven how the fuck can I be yours and we’re not dating. And you know why we aren’t dating because you’re still strung up on Sharon who just so happened to be undressing you mentally”

“She was not” he scoffs. I squint my eyes in anger “It’s obvious Scott only wants to fuck you”

“And what the fuck do you actually get to do. Fuck me that’s it. You don’t know how bad I actually wanna be with you but the only thing we can do is fuck so don’t say shit about anyone else’s place when you’re actually participating in the act just using the same mindset” I storm away from him and walk downstairs mixing myself in the crowd.

“Y/N you look great” Pepper says “woah what’s wrong”

“Nothing I’m fine” I say. She knows me better than anyone else and she grabs my hand. She excuses herself from Tony and we head to the bathroom.

“Talk to me” a tear slips and I wipe it careful not to mess up my makeup. I explain to her what happened and she shakes her head

“Men are so stupid” she hugs me making me laugh. She helps me fix my makeup and it doesn’t look too bad. Pepper walks out with me our locked together and we go straight to the bar “4 vodka shots please”

The bartender grabs the Smirnoff bottle pouring the liquor into the small glasses setting them in front of us. She hands me 2 and I grab one glass tipping my head back letting the liquid glide down my throat leaving a fiery trail. My face scrunches up and the DJ spins the record stopping the smooth jazz.

I watch as Tony gets on the mic “I feel like we need to amp this party up some more” the crowd agrees as the DJ turns the music up putting on Meg Thee Stallion’s song Freak Nasty.

I take my second shot grabbing a lime to chase the liquor and replace the fiery taste in my mouth. My chest burns as the liquid courage smoothes down singeing my sternum.

I feel myself migrate to the dance floor rocking to the beat of the music. I bend over shaking my ass and I feel a body slide behind me. I’m not sure who it is but the guys hands slide around my waist keeping me close. “Damn baby can I take you home” before I’m able to pull whoever this is off of me Steve grabs him.

“Get your fucking hands off my girl” I watch Steve pull the guy away and he grabs my arm pulling me upstairs to his bedroom. I can tell he’s livid.

“Y/N what the fuck”

“I didn’t even know it wasn’t you” I say nonchalantly standing up “and again I don’t see why you’re mad we aren’t even-“ he cuts me off with a kiss and a hand pressed to my throat. Steve is quick to lay me on the bed still holding me in his powerful kiss. Steve pulls off my jacket moving his lips to my neck and breasts. I bite my lip holding back a moan. His hands slip into my pants undoing them and my legs fall open for him. I feel his erection against my thigh as he rubs my wet swollen clit begging for attention.

“Don’t stop” instead Steve does the opposite and stands up. I pull off my pants and soaked black thong. Steve undresses his bottom half and grabs my legs pulling me to the end of the bed. He taps his dick on my clit making me writhed before he finally pushes himself in me.

I grab his arm as he continues his assault breathing heavily near my ear. His moans are guttural and low as he nips at my ear. “Just like that please Steve” he pushed my thighs back on the bed stroking me down harder. My jaw drops and I lift my arms above my head gripping the sheets behind me.

“You look so fucking good doll” I whimper holding him close to me. The thought of Sharon taking him away from me overwhelms me and a tear slips. Or it could be from just how good he’s pounding out my pussy.

“Look at you. A beautiful fucking mess. My beautiful fucking slut” he bites my collarbone quick to put my legs on his shoulders.

“Steve please”

“What do you want? Use your words” I can’t even think. I’m not sure what I want so I let my heart do the talking

“Don’t leave me”

“I won’t baby girl. Fuck you look so pretty taking my dick like that”

“Steve” I moan. His strokes increase as he wraps his hand tighter around my throat

“Nobody is allowed between my pretty little sluts thighs but me” my release is on the brink as he keeps talking to me like this “and if they try... I’ll kill them”

“I’m cumming” my legs shake uncontrollably as my hips buck upward.

“Cum for me please” he whimpers. I muster up the strength and flip us over riding him. I grind hard on Steve as he coats my walls in his juices whimpering my name.

I keep bucking my hips watching him squirm. I slow down and collapse on his chest feeling his dick pulse inside of me.

“You’re mine” he rasps

“I’m yours” I smile

“We’re going on a date tomorrow to solidify it but for right now will you be my girlfriend?” He smiles

“Of course” I laugh as he kisses my head.

#smut #fluff #chris evans smut #chris evans #dom!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #Steve Rogers x black reader #poc #chris evans x woc reader #captain america imagine #captain america smut #captain america #steve rogers smut

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moonbeamsung · 3 years

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Winter Nights & City Lights

Because nothing says ‘Christmas’ like spending the big day (and not to mention the whole holiday season) in the Big Apple living with your high school friend-turned-roommate, Mark Lee.

member: mark (featuring johnny)

au: roommate!mark x gn!reader, college roommate au, christmas au, ‘the gift of the magi’ au/inspired

word count: 9.5k

genre: fluff, angst, slice of life

warnings: profanity, underage drinking, hangovers, insecurities, mentions of food and drink, money issues, embarrassing moments

author’s note: This fic is close to becoming my favorite that I’ve ever written. It’s also almost twice as long as I planned, not to mention that tumblr crashed right as I tried to post it so here I am, two hours later. Overall I had a blast writing it and I hope you enjoy reading it! Please let me know what you think, too! :,) Happy holidays! <3

taglist: @astroboy-lele @kisshim @radiorenjun

network tags: @kpopscape @neo-constellations @starryktown @culture-cafe @dreamlab-nct

“That parade was so cool! I mean, did you see the size of all those balloons? They were huge! I’ve never seen so many people all in one place before,” Mark chatters away like an excited child as you navigate through the crowd that always seems to grow bigger year after year, gathered along the curbs of the New York streets to watch the famed Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.

“How are you not more excited about this?” He questions, and you stifle an amused giggle. “I’ve lived in the city for over a year, Mark. I’ve seen a thing or two.”

“Oh, right. I knew that.” The cold air only accentuates the blush on his face as he remembers that particular detail about you. It isn’t often that it’s demonstrated, however, considering you spend so much time cooped up inside of your shared apartment cramming in university work and studying. There are hardly any opportunities during the year to take in the sights of the concrete jungle you live in the very heart of, but luckily, one of your long-awaited breaks is coming up soon.

Thoughts of Christmas vacation are the only things keeping you going, along with countless cups of steaming hot coffee, as you prepare for exams in just a few weeks, weeks that seem to go by in a flurry of snow.

There’s less than three days left until your first one, but you’re nothing short of drained after pulling so many all-nighters, and you need a break. A breath of fresh air seems like just the cure for your burnout, so you slam your textbook shut and lethargically drag yourself off of the soft comforter you’ve been sitting on for the past two hours. You grimace at the deep imprint left behind.

Trudging through the living area, you knock softly on Mark’s bedroom door. A tired “Come in” sounds from the other side, and you push it open, immediately noticing his disheveled state. Eyes heavy with fatigue and lacking their usual sparkle of youthful innocence, he blinks back at you, “What’s up?”

“You look like you need a break just as much as I do,” you insist. His already-open mouth widens a bit more, “But... our first exam is on Monday, we can’t just—”

“Mark, come on, you’re one of the smartest people in our class. If anyone’s going to pass, it’s you.”

He huffs, “Maybe you have a point.”

“I do have a point, and you know it. A little walk in the park never hurt anyone, right?”

Mark rubs his eyes with the back of his hand, fingers raking through his dark locks before he musters up enough strength to push himself off of his bed and into a standing position.

“I’ll get my jacket.”

Central Park is a sight to behold on its own all year round, but something about the Christmas season makes it even more magical. You and Mark step at the same pace, your paths lined by metal benches blanketed in fresh snow. Even through the many layers of warmth you’re both wearing, the chilly air still nips at your skin. It’s Mark’s first time experiencing the holidays in New York City, and you’re determined to show him everything this real-life winter wonderland has to offer.

The story of how you two came to be roommates in the first place is an extremely lucky one. You met in high school, and had been part of the same group of friends along with six younger boys. Both Canadian, you’d been hoping to get into the same New York college since what felt like forever. The day that you received your acceptance letters in the mail was full of joy and celebration, but not even a week later, Mark got an unexpected scholarship to a local but prestigious university not far from where you lived that he simply couldn’t pass up.

Parting ways after graduation, you had thought you might never see each other again until you got a call from him. It was the day after your last exam of the spring semester in college and you were sitting on your two-person couch, feeling rather lonely. The number seemed too familiar, too good to be true, and scrambling to pick up the phone as it blared throughout your fairly small apartment, you answered with a shaky voice. Mark’s recognizable tone met your ears, and a wide smile met your face. Though he couldn’t see it, he could hear the happiness in your words.

As it turned out, his college had given him the opportunity to transfer to yours for the remainder of his four years, as their programs were closely linked and on similar levels. Graciously, he had accepted, and wanted you to be the first to know.

“So, uh... are you living with anyone?”

The question he dreaded asking more than anything else. Call him cliché, but he had the biggest crush on you in high school, much to his dismay and to the rest of his friends’ excitement. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to like you, but he feared that college could tear a potential relationship apart, regardless of whether or not you went to the same one.

As a result of this, he had never acted on his emotions. But he’s older now, and wiser, which leads him to believe that maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to maintain one, should he ever gain enough courage to ask you out.

“No, actually, I have my own apartment.”

Silence.

“...Are you looking for somewhere to stay?”

“Yes! Yes,” he replied a little too quickly, eager to accept what would hopefully be an invitation from you. He wasn’t disappointed.

“Well, my place isn’t the biggest, but you can live with me if you want to. Plus, we could split the rent between us!”

You’ve always liked Mark. He’s hardworking, kind, and humble, maybe a little too much of all these things for his own good. Even back in high school, you spent endless nights and very early mornings on the phone with him, trying to convince him to go to bed after he refused to stop studying. To reassure him that he did the right thing by ending that friendship, or to insist that he tell the teacher no one worked on the group project, so he did everything himself. You’ve been his shoulder to cry on for years, you’ve seen a side of him that he’s never been brave enough to show anyone else because they expect so much of him.

Mark knows he’s blessed to have had a picture-perfect childhood, a good family, and an education that was rigorous yet rewarding enough to prepare him for his next chapter in life. The pressures that came with being so lucky just got to him sometimes, and they made four years of high school seem more like fourteen.

You, on the other hand, didn’t quite have all the same luxuries that he did, but you still managed. He’s been there for you plenty of times, too. In your opinion, though, he’s the much more vulnerable one of the two of you, mainly to his cumbersome insecurities and shortcomings, however rare those shortcomings may be.

So in your mind, Mark Lee deserves the entire world and then some. The least you can do is share your apartment with him, either until he finds what you’re sure would be a much more desirable place to live, or if he wants to stay with you indefinitely.

What you don’t realize, and will eventually struggle to admit to yourself, is that your admiration for his perseverance and endless generosity is teetering rather precariously on the edge of blossoming into something more than just platonic.

“Sounds good, then. Thanks so much!” He had exclaimed, the sound of his pure excitement and gratefulness bringing a wave of heat to your face, and you were glad he wasn’t there in front of you to see it.

You talked a little bit more for the next few minutes, catching up and enjoying a lighthearted conversation about what you had both been up to. These sessions on the phone began to occur more and more frequently, turning into weekly, and soon daily, affairs. Mark planned to move in a couple weeks before school started again, giving himself some time to settle in and adapt to urban life in general. The calls became a highlight of your summer vacation, and every day without fail, you found yourself waiting to hear the unique ringtone you had set his contact to.

Less than twelve hours before Mark was scheduled to arrive at New York’s largest airport, you were on the phone with him just like always. The clock in your apartment chimed eleven o’clock, and as reluctant as you were to hang up, you knew you should turn in for the night. After all, the sooner you went to sleep, the sooner the morning would come. The morning you would meet him at the airport.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” His voice was hopeful. Slightly unsteady, but hopeful all the same.

“I guess so. What time does your plane land, again?” You confirmed the time you had scribbled down onto a neon yellow sticky note a few days earlier as he repeated the short string of numbers, nodding to no one in particular. Why did you feel so nervous? It’s just Mark, you had told yourself.

“Have a safe flight!”

He bade you goodnight in return, accidentally throwing in a “sweet dreams” before he could stop himself. When you put your phones down, you were both too busy trying to calm your racing pulses, however, so it didn’t matter. Mark collapsed onto his bed, hand bumping his duffel bag and heaving a sigh. You sank down into the couch cushion, closing your eyes and leaning your head against the back of the furniture. Neither of you could find the strength to stand in those moments, scared that your legs would give in from the unsteadiness of your nerves, your hearts, your emotions.

A singular worry occupied both of your minds from that point on until you greeted him in the JFK airport terminal the next morning, shy smiles on your faces: is it dangerous to enter into the impending situation of living together? Are you really ready to be in such constant close proximity to the object of your affections, however oblivious you might be to them?

Before his brain could talk his heart out of it, Mark had wrapped you in a tight hug, extra thankful for the welcome since you were all he had here, in the city. You wouldn’t have missed his arrival for the world, and you told him so. You also wouldn’t have missed the chance to make him flush a deep but adorable shade of red, reaching from his rounded cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears.

In your long-term rental car, you drove him back to your apartment, enjoying the quiet sounds of surprise and amazement that spilled from his lips, generated by the city’s sights. As you passed underneath towering skyscrapers, navigated bustling avenues, and caught glimpses of world-renowned landmarks that you both had seen only in the movies when you were younger, you just knew Mark’s eyes held their signature sparkle, despite your inability to see the dark brown orbs glimmer with wonder. You kept yours on the road ahead.

His first day was spent unpacking his suitcases and bags full of possessions, one of which was his most prized: an acoustic guitar.

It had been a gift from his parents when he finished the eighth grade, and all throughout high school, he had turned to music as an escape whenever he needed it. As any new musician does, Mark had played around with chords, experimenting and seeing what sounded good, and before you knew it he had composed a song. Another one followed, then another, and by the end of his freshman year he had written enough to fill an entire album if he so wished.

The guitar had heard every note, every lyric, carried every melody from his heart into the world. It had grown to be a part of him, a worldly sliver of his soul in the form of a simple musical instrument that could convey every hope and every dream, every concern or every frustration. Every love confession. Though that wasn’t saying much, since he only had eyes for you. You didn’t know it, but one of those songs was about you. For you.

You and Mark’s circle of friends tried to set you two up one day in the school’s band room after hours, with the excuse that the second-youngest of the group, Chenle, had forgotten his piano sheet music in there. They sent you to retrieve it, which you only agreed to do after being persuaded by the boy’s intimidating but still lovable pout.

With no sheet music in sight, your eyes landed instead on a diligent Mark that appeared to be the only sign of life in the room, plucking away at the strings as the sun set outside. You had sat with him for a while, neglecting your task and listening to him strum gracefully, softly murmuring lyrics that sounded like your name at one point. You didn’t think much of it, though, not making the connection behind the rest of the words coming out of his mouth and accompanying the chords. His love song was left unacknowledged by the subject of it themselves, and that was both the first and last time he ever attempted to confess to you.

He wondered if now that you were sharing an apartment, he would let something slip by accident. What would he do then?

University had other plans, though, and his fears were temporarily relieved. So fortunately and unfortunately, you were so occupied with schoolwork that trying to balance dating, or even mere thoughts of doing so, with all of your other responsibilities would have been exhausting, not to mention impossible.

Snapping out of your memory-induced daze, you realize that you nearly wandered off the path into a deep snowbank, only aware of this fact because Mark catches you by the wrist and pulls you back toward him to walk at his side. His fingers stay curled around your forearm as you approach a famous bridge, stepping to the side and gazing down at the icy waters below, calm and rippling with the chilly breeze.

“What do you want for Christmas?”

You honestly haven’t thought about it yet, so you can’t give Mark a definite answer. The same goes for him, both of you leaning against the brick railing in a comfortable silence.

In Mark’s mind though, he knows what he wants to give you: something to complement your own equivalent of his guitar, a large collection of handwritten letters and notes from your childhood and school days. Sentimental by nature, you had saved every colorful post-it note one of your friends would slip through the narrow slats of your locker, every birthday card received over the years, every thoughtful postcard from someone’s vacation.

Your favorites are undoubtedly the always-awkward Christmas cards that your friends’ families consistently mail out each December, by far the most humorous parts of your growing collection. You always found yourself chuckling at the pictures displayed on the front. Eyes bright with mirth, you would observe their forced smiles and arms slung carelessly over siblings’ shoulders, their eyes flickering between the camera and something going on behind it, probably the family pet getting into trouble across the yard. You pitied the photographers, surely beyond frustrated as they would try to get everyone to stand still for more than five measly seconds. Mouths were clamped shut and for a brief moment, the air was void of complaints of how itchy someone’s sweater was.

Then the camera would snap, capturing an image that was simply “good enough.” They’d plaster it on the card and in a few days, it would magically appear in the mailboxes of relatives and close friends. Grandparents would overlook the uncomfortable expressions and focus instead on how fast the kids were growing up. You didn’t blame them. Even in four years’ worth of cards, so much could change. In between fits of laughter, you’d stare in awe at the way your friends grew into their features, only becoming more handsome with time and some growing so tall that they even towered over their fathers. You always kept the letters they included, too, detailing the highlights of the year that was soon to come to an end by the time they dropped it into a nearby mailbox.

And like he could read your mind, Mark makes an offhand comment right then and there. “My folks texted me the other day to ask for our address. You know, for the Christmas card.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Shame I couldn’t be there for the family photos this year.”

“Is it really a shame, though?” You prod, tilting your head a bit at the boy. “You always told me you couldn’t stand waiting around for the so-called ‘right lighting’ and all that.”

“Well, I couldn’t, but now that I’m not there I wish I could go back to those days. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, you know?”

“Right,” you sigh, thinking about how the same saying could easily apply to the way you felt about Mark all throughout your first year of university.

You have a box, made of a dark mahogany wood and lined with elegant golden trim, where you keep all of these letters, these handwritten memories and souvenirs from some of the happiest moments in your life. A gift from a past Christmas, your family had your initials engraved onto the front in a loopy cursive font, making it truly unique and utterly irreplaceable. And, you’ll soon come to realize, valuable.

Mark remembers it well, remembers the many times you’ve shown him its contents, remembers how his eyes sometimes land on the delicate container resting beneath the windowsill in your room, sunlight catching the accents. He knows how much those letters mean to you, and he also knows how much you love returning the favor.

That’s why he wants to give you the tools you need to do just that, and to do it well.

You’ve always been one for writing thank-you notes for any and every gift you receive, your parents having ingrained the habit in you since you were very young. Slowly, crayons turned into pencils and lead became ink. To this day you remain unfazed by the increasing amount of yellowing papers residing in the letter box, but the words imprinted on them never quite fade, strong enough to withstand the test of time.

Too many times in high school Mark would find you, hunched over your dining room table in frustration with a stack of letters beside your arm that you deemed “failed” because your handwriting was bad, or something of the sort. Usually it was the other way around, him being the one in need of comfort, but on those days your roles were reversed.

He had always wondered why you didn’t have fancier supplies that were more suited to your task, but he supposes now that maybe it simply wasn’t an option for you and your family. So a stationery set seems like the perfect gift for you this year.

On a similar note, you’ve already decided what you’re getting him: a guitar case. You happened upon a sleek leather one while browsing the website of a popular music store, coincidentally with a location not too far from your apartment.

Now it’s no longer a question of what to get the other, but how. As university students living on your own, money is scarce. Unknowingly, you both contemplate this concern as you walk side by side, returning to the start of the path that you set out on at least a half hour ago.

This stroll of yours was supposed to clear your minds, but why are they racing even more than before?

There’s no time to worry now, though, and for the next week, your thoughts are forced to shift back to the topic of school and midterms and all your academic endeavors.

Your exam week is over before you know it, and the two of you return to your apartment after the last one only to collapse onto your respective beds, beyond exhausted.

The dreary Friday afternoon clearly calls for a nap, but unbeknownst to you, Mark decides to seize the opportunity that has so conveniently presented itself to him: a chance for him to go out and buy your gift without suspicion. He drops his backpack on the carpet next to his dresser and sighs, wondering if what he’s about to do will be worth it. But it’s you, of course it’ll be worth it.

Thus, his next move is done with a heavy heart. He’s been forced by a lack of funds to come to a decision about your gift, and a difficult one at that. The only thing he can think of doing to even come close to affording a nice stationery set is to sell some things in exchange for cash. Namely, the most valuable item he owns: his beloved guitar. He doesn’t really want to, but deep down he knows that a true friendship warrants the occasional sacrifice. He’s done some research on a nearby pawn shop, and however sketchy those kinds of places may seem, it’s his only feasible option at the moment, with just a week left until Christmas Day.

After making sure you’re fast asleep, he not-so-stealthily slips out of your shared flat, his actions far from silent but even so, you don’t wake up. Mark winces at the unintended high volume of pulling the front door shut behind him, sticking his hand into his jeans pocket and relaxing when he feels his keys at the bottom of the fabric compartment. Guitar strung over his shoulder by the flimsy, fraying strap, he sets off.

With his phone in hand and directions to the pawn shop displayed on the screen, he strides through the lobby of the apartment building and pushes the revolving door, stepping onto the busy sidewalk and into the cold winter air. Shoppers crowd the pavement with hands full of department store tote bags, crinkling loudly as they pass by one another. Shoulders knock together and heels click against the concrete, just some of the many sounds of the city that Mark is still growing used to hearing.

A few blocks and several wrong turns later, he finds himself on a quieter street, standing in front of the shop. It’s dimly lit inside and looks almost abandoned, the letters painted on the window chipped and faded from the wear and weather of past years. A soft bell rings when he lets himself in, searching for some sort of employee.

From behind a cluttered shelf a tall man emerges, the shabby name tag pinned to his vest reading “Johnny.” Well, he’s not some shifty-eyed, balding man wearing a muscle shirt stained with grease. New York continues to be full of surprises.

His dark hair looks neat, the jacket he’s wearing free of any wrinkles and face young but chiseled, high cheekbones prominent.

“How can I help you today?” Johnny booms, stepping behind the counter and absentmindedly sifting through some loose change in bottom of the cash register.

Mark gulps, “I’d like to sell something.” Still not entirely sure he wants to do this, he instinctively tugs on the strap resting atop the fabric of his wool jacket.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” Johnny assures with a small laugh. “What did you have in mind?”

Taking a deep breath, Mark slides the guitar off his shoulder and holds it near his chest for a moment, before extending his arms out towards the counter.

“A guitar, huh? We don’t see many of these,” the tall man comments. “Are you sure? It seems pretty valuable to you in more ways than one.”

Mark’s fingertips trace the strings for the last time and he decides to just get it over with, before he can change his mind. His hands are shaky as he gently places the instrument down on the counter in front of Johnny, taking a step back once he’s done so. “I don’t have much of a choice. I need the money to buy a gift for my… uh, my friend.”

Johnny raises an eyebrow, “Just a friend? Or a special someone?”

“They are special,” Mark confirms, noncommittal to either title that Johnny suggested.

“They must be if you’re willing to give up something like this for them. Okay, that’ll be…”

Johnny tells him what the guitar is worth, matching the amount with a stack of cash and a few old coins, rusty but still holding their value.

Despite the pain of letting something so meaningful go, a bit of joy creeps into Mark’s heart as he realizes that now he can give you a gift that will hopefully become just as meaningful to you as his guitar was to him.

He thanks Johnny and bids him goodbye, step lighter than when he entered, much to his surprise.

It’s the next day when you and Mark find yourselves getting into the Christmas spirit for the first time this season. After he had returned yesterday, you were still out cold on your bed, so he chose to follow your example and do the same. The both of you had slept the rest of the day and almost the entirety of the following morning away, waking up just before noon.

With a sudden burst of energy you spring up from the sheets, overtaken by your excitement for the nearing holiday as you dig out the artificial Christmas tree you had bought last year from your closet. Sure, it may seem lazy of you, but let’s face it: there was no easy way to find a real one in New York City, let alone lug it down the streets, through an elevator and down a narrow hallway to a door it wouldn’t even fit through.

Mark hears the loud rustling of various decorations as he begins to stir, leisurely getting out of bed and checking one of his dresser drawers to make sure he hadn’t merely dreamed up his shopping adventure of the previous evening. There the stationery set sits, tucked safely at the back of the wooden cabinet.

The bookstore he stopped at on his way back last night had many different options to choose from, so he made sure to get one that both matched your box of letters and reminded him of you, with its color scheme and style. A surge of pride brings a smile to his features, pleased with his choice, and he pushes the drawer shut before joining you in the living area.

Your knees brush as he sits down next to you to help unpack the large but manageable box, taking out the tiers of the tree to eventually stack on top of one another. Working more quickly than usual (and probably necessary, there are six days left after all), you assign Mark to stringing the lights across your small balcony while you finish setting up the tree. You knew you shouldn’t have let him do it alone, though, because when you look over at his progress you find more lights wrapped around his body than the metal railing.

“Do you need a hand?” You question, holding back a laugh at the way the cord restricts his arm movements to the point where he can’t even reach for the handle on the sliding door.

From outside he opens his mouth to reply, but pauses, looking down at himself and the mess he’s made of the lights before meeting your eyes once more. His voice is muffled by the glass, but you hear him shout playfully, “I’m the tree now! We don’t need that one.” He tries to gesture to the one you’re currently decorating, but fails, and this time you aren’t able to contain your amusement.

“Let me help you,” you offer, joining him on the balcony and helping him untangle himself from the glowing strands. “Thanks,” Mark replies, sheepishly rubbing at the back of his neck. With your combined efforts, you manage to thread the string of lights through the railing with little to no mishaps, and both of you continue decking out the apartment with other seasonal items for the next several hours.

At some point during the afternoon one of you decided to connect their phone to a speaker and play some music, all Christmas songs of course. As the classic version of “Jingle Bell Rock” begins to blare throughout the living room, Mark abandons his task momentarily to walk over to you. He extends a hand down to you, sitting on the floor, and you accept the invitation to stand up with a questioning look.

“Dance with me?”

It’s hardly a platonic request, Mark realizes once the words leave his lips, but even so you don’t shy away, glancing down at your feet with a slight trace of bashfulness in the action.

He intertwines your fingers somewhat loosely, placing his non-dominant hand on your waist and beginning to sway, slowly at first but then his movements become more exaggerated, shoulders tilting dramatically to one side after the other and straying from the rhythm of the music. You join Mark in drawing out the jesting movements, losing yourself in laughter and leaning forward to bury your face in his shoulder, the heat of your breath hitting his skin through the thin t-shirt he’s wearing. In one last attempt to keep the joyful smile on your face, he steps back a bit and holds your wrist above your head to twirl you in a circle.

The electric guitar in the song fades as you collapse onto the carpet, recovering from your fit of giggles. The sun has begun to sink in the sky, you can tell by the gold and orange glow that your apartment becomes bathed in as it sets, inching closer to the horizon and eventually becoming hidden by tall skyscrapers in the distance.

Satisfied with your progress so far, you both decide to call it a day, though in truth there aren’t many decorations left to put out. A few stray ornaments and some garlands remain, still packed up in boxes that you would need help reaching. You’re also eager to get your mind off of the way your heart was palpitating as you danced with Mark, your roommate and friend but nothing more, nothing less. You have enough to worry about at the moment, not wanting to add potential feelings for the boy into the mix. Shit, you think, you still need to buy his gift.

“What should we watch?” Mark asks, scrolling through the list of movie choices on the TV screen.

“I don’t really care, anything’s fine.”

His finger presses a button on the remote to select a film at random, the intro playing as you scan the refrigerator shelves for a frozen meal. Hopefully it’s not one of those cheesy holiday romances.

Settling down on the couch a few minutes later, you with the warmed-up container in your lap and Mark holding a cup of ramen noodles, both of you fall into a comfortable chatter about the movie. Thank god it’s a comedy.

Occasionally you find yourself diverting your attention from the harsh display and directing it over to the panes of floor-to-ceiling windows, where you watch more and more lights flicker on in the distance, illuminating the urban landscape as night falls. The view is breathtaking, but so is the way your face softly glows with their warmth, even from blocks away. Not that Mark would ever tell you that, of course.

“I’m going out!” Mark hears shuffling from outside his bedroom the next morning, your voice instantly bringing him to his senses. Curious, he shoots out of bed and flings the door open to find you, one arm stuck through the sleeve of your coat and the other buried in a bag, but it’s not the one you usually bring when you leave the flat. Eyes wide and panicked at the boy’s unexpected appearance, you clutch it to your chest with a visible amount of difficulty, Mark notices.

“Where are you off to?” He squints at the brightness of the living room, the early morning light pouring in through the glass on the far wall.

“...Maybe I can’t tell you,” you respond with a huff, slinging the heavy bag over your shoulder and pulling the rest of your coat on.

“What do you mean, you can’t—oh.”

“Nice going, genius,” you shake your head, feigning disappointment. “It’s not like it’s Christmas this week or anything.”

“My bad, sorry.” Mark winces and rakes a hand through his bedhead, abashed.

“I’ll be back soon, okay?”

With that, you step into the hallway and offer a parting smile over your shoulder, shutting the front door behind you.

At least your being out of the apartment gives Mark time to wrap your gift. All he has to do is figure out how.

Johnny gets a familiar feeling when he sees you enter the pawn shop, fumbling with your things and reluctantly gazing at whatever’s in the tote you’re holding. Are you also about to make an exchange you could potentially regret?

“One second,” you excuse yourself as you step up to the counter, placing the heavy bag down and removing the large item from inside: your letter box, minus its contents. Of course you would never get rid of those, but despite the letters and notes being so special to you, the box they were always kept in is also a significant part of your attachment and the memories you hold dear.

With a thud you set it down, Johnny glancing between the hesitation on your face and the wooden container on the counter in front of him. “Let me guess, you want to exchange this for cash?”

“Yes, sir, that’s exactly what I—” You pause, biting your tongue. “Hold on… Look, I know this is a pawn shop and that’s what people do here, but how are you so sure?”

Johnny’s gut tells him he shouldn’t give away the fact that a boy wearing the very same expression and with the same sense of purpose and determination was in here just two days earlier. So he corrects his mistake with a simple “Lucky guess” and a hearty chuckle.

Without Johnny even asking, you tell him that you’re also looking for some extra cash in order to afford a gift for your “friend,” and you say the word with so much conviction and certainty that it’s almost laughable. The information given to Johnny helps him fully connect the dots in his mind, realizing that each of you are the one the other talked about.

Before handing you the money, Johnny tears off a sheet of paper from a nearby notepad and asks you to fill out your information, most importantly your address. He has to lie a bit, saying it’s for contact purposes, but his heart is in the right place nonetheless. Just in case something goes south (and the sinking feeling in his stomach tells him that it will somehow), doing so gives him an option, even if he doesn’t know what that option might be yet.

“Thank you, Johnny, and Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas!” He returns your wish cheerfully as you push the door open to leave.

“Good luck finding a gift for your ‘friend,’ too.”

You feel heat rise to your cheeks when you see his teasing use of air quotes, but still smile.

On your way back to the apartment Mark texts you and asks you to check the mail, saying he forgot to do so yesterday. When you arrive in the lobby and make your way over to the cluster of mailboxes, you’re instantly shocked to find a large cardboard box shoved into the small cubby with your and Mark’s name on it. You’re already struggling to carry the guitar case you bought for him, so you decide to make a second trip later.

A few moments after stepping out of the elevator, you knock on the door to your apartment, hoping with all your might that Mark won’t actually open it and instead just answer with a “Come in” as he always does. Your wish is, thankfully, granted, but it’s quickly followed by “Wait, wait, wait!” As it happens, he just finished wrapping your gift and needs another minute or two to tuck it away somewhere until the big day arrives. “Can you stay out there until I say?”

“Sure,” you reply, “but I’m going to have to ask you to do the same.”

“How about I stay in my room while you come in and do… whatever you need to?”

“Sounds good.”

With his door closed, Mark hears the front one open and shut as you enter. Trying not to make any noise that would give away the size of the item you just bought, you finally settle for hiding the leather case underneath your bed, concealed by the drapery attached to its frame that hovers just above the floor.

Mark had hastily placed the now-wrapped (though not elegantly so) stationery set back into his dresser, so he’s already out of his room by the time you leave yours. “Any letters or packages?” He questions when he sees you.

“Oh, right!” You snap your fingers, “We do have a package but my hands were full, so I’ll bring it up right now.”

“Eggnog?”

While the box had looked fairly ordinary from the outside, upon opening it and glancing at the return address you learned it was actually anything but that. Mark’s and your parents had sent a holiday care package of sorts, including both of your families’ Christmas cards and a carton of eggnog, along with some small gifts that are meant to be saved for the morning of the 25th. Also mixed in are a few small decorations (not that you need more), some baking supplies complete with a copy of the recipe for the cookies you make every year, and a soft pair of mittens for each of you. He hopes you don’t realize that one of the items is a sprig of mistletoe.

“You don’t like eggnog?” You ask, stunned. Mark shrugs, “I don’t really care for milk but it’s the thought that counts, I guess.”

That evening you and Mark take another stroll, this time choosing to stay on the streets and admire the festively adorned buildings and shops as you pass by them. Admiring Christmas lights at this time of year is nothing new to you and Mark. In fact, when you lived in Canada you would do the same thing. The only difference is that back then, it involved driving through quiet suburban neighborhoods and not ambling through crowded city streets and alleyways on foot.

Snowflakes begin to cascade from the heavens as you make your way back around to the block where you live. Mark sticks his tongue out to catch one of the small crystals, and it immediately melts in his mouth, eliciting a high-pitched laugh from the boy. Snow is also something you both are more than used to by now, having grown up with white Christmases all your lives. It makes you wonder if the holiday season would be the same without it.

“You know what we should do?” Mark turns to you just as you’re about to enter the apartment building again. “Go ice skating at Rockefeller Center.”

“Mark, c’mon, you know stuff like that is overpriced. And besides, I can’t skate to save my life. Remember—”

“That time in sophomore year? You bet I do,” he laughs as he remembers how you clumsily fell not even two seconds after stepping onto the ice with your skates, and then refused to let go of the railing for the rest of the day. The elevator whirs to life, climbing floor after floor with ease.

“Hey,” you offer, “we can still go and watch people skate, I’m sure there’s some place to sit.”

“And we can look at the Christmas tree, too,” Mark adds, eyes brightening at the idea.

“Right. I forget you haven’t seen it in person before.” The cabin doors open with a ding and you step out, your eyes landing on the door to your apartment a few yards away.

When you turn on the TV, Mark becomes mesmerized by the movie that’s playing, since it takes place in NYC and he recognizes so many places from actually being there. He scrambles to remove his jacket and beanie, plopping down onto the couch once they’re safely hooked on the coat rack.

Watching him, you sigh. Would anything really change if you were dating? Assuming your feelings were returned, of course, but you can’t imagine that your relationship would differ much. You certainly wouldn’t go on extravagant dates, or buy expensive gifts for each other, but that’s not what love is about, anyway. With the exception of a few extra hugs and the addition of kisses, along with more forms of physical affection in general (actually, scratch that, Mark’s always been awkward with those kinds of things), you’d still be by each other’s side just like always.

As you sit down next to him and feel an arm wrap around your shoulder, you don’t shrug it off, instead embracing the warm and fuzzy feeling in your heart that you can’t blame on the holiday season this time.

Mark’s glad, too. He’s been working up the courage to do that all day.

Late that night, you quietly tiptoe into the living area, retrieving an old box from your move-in last year that will fit his gift perfectly, and won’t give away what’s inside. Your hands fold and tape the wrapping paper with care, tying a neat ribbon once you’re done. Sure, you had to give up something that meant a lot to you in order to afford Mark’s present, but the gains outweigh the losses. You find comfort in imagining the way his face will surely light up with pure joy on Christmas morning, drifting off to sleep with ease once you’ve hidden the rectangular parcel back underneath your bed.

A few days pass and soon it’s the 23rd, and you join Mark at the railing of the ice rink, of course on the side with solid ground. “Ice is solid ground,” Mark had corrected, but you stood firm in your words. “More like slippery ground, if you ask me.”

Luckily you had been allowed to stand here for free, because god only knows what small, simple thing someone would be charged for in New York. It’s happened to you before, and you’re not even a tourist.

Mark’s dark eyes gaze up at the 75-foot-tall tree in wonder, pupils dilating and reflecting the tens of thousands of bright lights strung through the dark green branches. They seem to sparkle with sheer amazement. Just then someone skates a little too close to the section of railing you’re leaning on, startling Mark out of his LED-induced daze and putting the most adorable look of surprise on his face.

His focus shifts to the people on the ice, wearing sweaters and jackets of every color imaginable, and the sight is still as beautiful as the looming Christmas tree above. He notices some couples, holding onto one another or skating hand-in-hand, and it makes him wonder if that could be you two someday, at a future Christmas, or if it’s an idea absurd enough for an alternate reality.

Mark sees you shiver out of the corner of his eye, and it’s his cue to suggest returning home for the evening. In a very cliché and boyfriend-esque gesture he offers you his jacket, but you decline, insisting that it’s not far and assuring him that you’ll be okay.

Back in your heated flat, you twist open the lid of the eggnog carton and pour a small glass for yourself. “Are you sure you don’t want some?” You call out to Mark from the kitchen, snatching one of the cookies you made the other day and finding a paper plate for the thin shortbread wafer, lined with elegant white icing and dusted with sprinkles.

“I already told you, I don’t like eggnog!”

“Have you even tried it before?” Mark grumbles at your nagging. You really sound like his mom right now.

“No…”

You appear at the other end of the couch, holding out a small cup with just a sip or two of eggnog in it. “Try it. You never know.”

He knows you won’t leave until you see him lift it to his lips for yourself, so he does. Immediately the sweet drink overwhelms his taste buds, and also leaves a slight sting on his tongue.

“What’s in this stuff?” He coughs, nose scrunching a bit from the strong taste. Surprisingly, though, he doesn’t hate it. Following you back to the kitchen, Mark pours a full glass this time, already gulping it down.

“Uh,” you scan the ingredients on the back of the carton once he sets it down on the counter, “milk, cream, sugar, eggs…”

“...whiskey? What the hell?”

“It has alcohol,” Mark slurs, his giggling interrupted by a hiccup. Having never drank before, he’s undeniably a lightweight, and even a little bit can get him wasted almost instantly.

“Mom and Dad must have mixed something up, because they definitely didn’t mean to send us alcoholic eggnog.”

Sure enough, back home in Canada your parents are wondering why they only have the kid-friendly stuff in their fridge.

Mark latches on to you, arm curling lazily around your waist. Great, he’s one of those people that gets clingy when they’re drunk. “Try some,” he whines, nuzzling into your shoulder a little.

“Are you crazy?”

“No one will know,” he laughs, hiccuping again. Giving in to his adorably drunken pout, you take one sip from your original glass but no more, an unpleasant buzz taking over your whole mouth.

Not looking forward to finding a hangover cure on Christmas Eve of all days, you pray that you’ll stay sober enough to take care of the tipsy boy, who’s currently pressing his face into the back of your neck and—shit, did he just kiss you there? You really don’t need this right now.

“Mark, you’re drunk, okay? Stop it,” you caution.

“But I love you,” he murmurs, warm breath fanning your skin, and you want to kick yourself for almost saying it back. Does he even mean it, though? Alcohol makes people say crazy things, things they don’t mean, so you shouldn’t get your hopes up. You unhook his arm from your torso and turn around to push against his chest, frustrated. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He seems to have just remembered something, because he ignores you and instead goes over to where the care package was still sitting, digging into the bottom and pulling out something you hadn’t noticed before. “Look,” Mark declares in a nasal voice, “mistletoe.”

You exasperatedly hang your head, desperate to slam it into the nearest wall. With much difficulty, you eventually manage to get him tucked underneath the blanket, leaving a glass of water on his nightstand for when he wakes up. “Get some sleep,” you say simply.

He tells you goodnight with a fond mumble of your name as you shut the bedroom door behind you. Rubbing your eyes, you yawn before turning off the lights and heading to bed yourself, trying to block out the events that had just taken place.

Your head aches when you wake up the next morning, and you feel like garbage, so you can only imagine how much worse Mark must be doing. Quickly chugging a water bottle, you reluctantly go to knock on his door, hearing a pained groan once you enter. He’s sitting up, chin resting in one hand and the other anchored onto the heavy comforter covering his legs.

“How are you feeling?” The obvious question with an even more obvious answer makes Mark wince. “Awful.”

“Sorry.” It’s silent for a moment, Mark pressing three fingers to his throbbing forehead and you staring aimlessly at the wall. “I knew that eggnog was a bad idea.”

“You were the one that told me to try it!”

“I didn't know it had alcohol in it!”

You sigh, dejected. Something tells Mark that your head isn’t the only thing hurting.

“Hey, I know that look. What’s wrong?” He prods, voice soft and gentle and altogether unlike how it had been last night. You meet his eyes for a moment, about to speak but biting your lip at the last second. Mark’s brain puts two and two together at your expression.

“Oh god, did I say something? Do something?”

“Yeah, actually,” you reply in a huff. “First you kissed my neck, then you told me you loved me, and then you held up a clump of mistletoe and implied that we should kiss underneath it.”

His memories of the previous evening are all a blur, so he truly would have no idea what happened if you hadn’t just said something. Mark knows he screwed up, bad.

You tense when you feel him place his hand over yours, but you don’t snatch it away. After collecting his thoughts, Mark clears his throat.

“Look, I… I know that’s not the best way for you to find out how someone feels about you. But I’m completely sober, and I can tell you that I meant what I said last night.”

“You promise?”

“Promise,” Mark replies.

“...Can you say it again, then?”

He blushes, “That I…?”

You nod, the corners of your lips lifting into a small smile.

“I love you,” Mark tells you for the second time in the last 24 hours, but this time you know you can believe him. The pain of your hangover goes away for a moment as he takes your jaw in his hands and connects your lips, just barely retaining the buzz of the alcohol but not enough to bother you. Slowly you kiss him back, sinking down onto the mattress beside him.

Mark pulls away for air a few seconds later, thumb grazing your cheek lovingly. “Does this mean we’re—”

“Dating? If you want it to, then sure,” your finger traces swirly shapes on the small of his back while you assure him that neither of you need to rush into anything if you aren’t ready.

“I don’t want things to change, though.”

“Who said they have to? I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and we’re already pretty close, you know? Making it ‘official’ doesn’t necessarily mean ‘different,’ so...”

Mark hums in agreement, “You’re right. Okay, I can live with that.”

“And I can’t live another second without food. I’m making breakfast,” you quip, reverting back to the usual banter between you and him.

“I’ll cook the eggs,” Mark insists as you both make your way out of his bedroom and into the kitchen.

“You absolutely will not!”

The night before Christmas had started out unlike any that you’d ever experienced before, with you confronting your now-boyfriend about a drunken love confession the previous day. But now, it’s ending just like every year, with you cozy and curled up in front of the television as the last few segments of the news play.

It’s the coldest Christmas Eve in years. You learned this after the meteorologist had informed viewers of the record only a few minutes earlier, inadvertently planting an idea in Mark’s mind.

Right as you’re about to turn in for the night, setting a plate of decorated cookies and a glass of milk down on the end table (as is tradition in your families, no matter how old you are), Mark holds out his arms like a child might. “Can we…?” He asks in a quiet voice, nervous to finish his sentence.

“Huh?”

The boy inhales sharply, “It’s freezing. Do you wanna sleep in my bed tonight?” His cheeks flush a deep red that’s almost the color of Christmas itself.

You’re slightly taken aback, and then you remember it’s just Mark. “Sure, why not,” you answer with a light shrug and a smile on your face.

“But no funny business,” you inform him as you climb under the sheets together, instantly happy with your choice to join him because double the people means double the body heat. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Mark replies, pecking your lips. His wrist finds the warm skin of your neck and you flinch away.

“Your hands are cold!” He just snickers at your whining.

The two of you fall asleep more quickly than you ever have on Christmas Eve, usually overcome with nerves and excitement, but now, as two college-aged kids, you’re comfortable and not rushing the morning’s arrival at all, content in each other’s arms for the moment.

You feel like you’re 10 years old again as you rush into the living room at 8am the next day, the bright, early morning sky lighting up your entire apartment. At the base of your Christmas tree sits a humble amount of presents, composed of the two that you bought for each other plus the half-dozen small ones from your parents.

You hand Mark one of the cookies from the end table and grab one for yourself, taking a bite of the sweet treat as you sit down and motioning for him to do the same.

“Open yours first,” you say eagerly, referring to your gift for him. Mark shakes his head and points to what he got you, “No, you go first.”

“Fine, we’ll open them at the same time.” Mark nods, satisfied with the compromise and handing you both the packages.

“On three. One, two…”

The final number barely leaves your lips before you both begin tearing into the paper excitedly, Mark reaching for the flaps on the box and you unfolding the tissue paper.

When you each see what the other gifted you with, it’s completely silent, save for the TV playing a Christmas Day special in the background.

He gazes blankly at you, licking his lips as his eyes dart between the guitar case and your expression.

“I appreciate the gift, but I…” Mark pauses, unsure how to tell you this.

You don’t say a word, raising your eyebrows as a signal for him to continue.

“I sold my guitar to pay for your gift,” he breathes.

“You what? Mark, that guitar means everything to you! Why would you do that?”

“Because you’re worth it, of course!”

“Well, I did the same thing,” you break the news with an unamused expression. “I sold my letter box to pay for that case.”

His eyes become impossibly wider at that, nearly bulging out of their sockets. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.”

You groan and lie down on the floor, beyond discouraged. “Let me guess, the pawn shop on 23rd?”

“Yep.”

“Hey, wait a minute.” An idea hits Mark like a rush of cold air. “Maybe we can work out a deal or something.”

“Meaning?”

“We go back and see if we can trade in our new gifts for enough money to get our old things back.”

“One, I doubt it’s that easy, and two, pretty much everything is closed on Christmas Day.” You’re half tempted to laugh because of how ironic this situation is.

Mark sighs, “I guess that makes sense.”

“We can still try, though.”

Sure enough, the pawn shop is dark, even more so than usual, and the door doesn’t budge. A sign taped to the window from the inside confirms your fear: Closed on Christmas. Gloved hands pressed onto the glass, you and Mark admit your defeat. You had been bested by the giving spirit of the holiday season, almost too generous for your own good.

But it’s the message that the day itself stands for after all, for putting aside material value and doing something out of the kindness of your heart just to make someone else happy. That’s what it’s all about, and you and Mark had personally experienced it this year.

So you’re surprised to find two boxes leaning on the wall beside the door to your apartment the next morning, shapes oddly familiar. Could it be?

Just hours earlier, the hallway surveillance cameras caught a tall man striding down the corridor, carrying those exact packages under his arms. In the video he pulls out a scrap of paper and a pen from his coat pocket, scribbling a short message before tucking it underneath the ribbon of the larger parcel and leaving the building just as quickly as he came.

You and Mark’s only clue as to who had returned your items is a messy ‘J’ at the end of the note attached to the box containing his guitar. Exchanging knowing glances, you both grin, squeezing your intertwined hands with the same name in mind.

...So what if Johnny had to take a bit of money out of his own paycheck to cover the cost of the items? Besides, it’s Christmas. And his boss never has to know.

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ausblack · 4 years

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Invenio | p.jm

➻ Request: “Here I am!! Can I request a series of witch au jimin x reader, I leave to you the plot decision I know you can write such wonderful things thank you in advance.”

HELLO EVERYONE✨✨

I’m aware that I said that this blog was dead and buried, but I found this fanfic in my drafts and I decided to post it as a farewell, to give you one last nice goodbye to the BTS Fanfics that I’ve posted during these years. Since it was in my drafts, I didn’t write a complete story and it’s a bit rushed especially in the end (because I meant it as a first part of a series) but I think it’s nice to just post it like this, so you can all see what has been sitting in here for 2 years. I love you all and who knows, maybe I’ll write some fanfics about other things in the future💕

✵ Summary: During your escape from the royal castle, you meet Jimin, a beautiful witch who offers you help in exchange of a little favor.

✵ Genre: Fluff , tiny Angst, mild smut lol

✵ Pairings: Witch! Jimin x Reader

You had never been out of the palace or it’s ground. To you all floors were marble, all stair rails were ornate, carved and polished so that it shined. Family portraits were painted in oils and hung in gold frames. Furniture was all handmade by master craftsmen and nothing ever got dirty. You, the princess, had never seen dust in the years of your life. The air was scented with fresh flowers every day of the year, yet you had never seen a flower ever die or wilt. Food was always perfect and served precisely on time, but you had never seen a kitchen. Each room was as big as a three bedrooms apartment and came equipped with everything you would ever need.

It seemed like the perfect life, the life that beggars and poor nationals dreamed off when they were faced with financial issues and popular diseases.

Every girl wished of being dressed in tight corsets and large gowns, with the only worry of acting pretty and knowing how to appear innocent to other royal families who came in town.

The reality, was much darker than that, and to you it was like a nightmare.

While they dreamed of being you, you dreamed of being free.

You wanted to go out and talk to normal people, that weren’t going to judge you if you didn’t laugh at a joke that wasn’t funny.

Every day you looked outside the window of your room, and you looked at the plaza of your own city beyond the walls of your castle, thinking about how great being there would have felt like.

You were tired of it all, and today It was no different.

✥✥✥✥

Putting on the tight corset that crushed your belly, you let out a tired groan at the sound of knocking against the door of your bedroom.

“What?” You called out and soon the low and snooty voice of your personal guard resounded through the door.

“Your mother ordered me to go to the marketplace in town, wait here and don’t go out without me.” He said and, as soon as those words came to your ears, you widened your eyes.

“Wait!” You yelled and opened the door, without worrying about the lack of corset on your body.

He stood in front of you with a confused expression stamped on his face.

“Wait for me, I’ll come with you.” He shook his head.

“You can’t, orders from the king. You know you can’t go out of the castle.” He repeated with an almost robotic voice.

You groaned in response “Why can’t I? Other princesses are allowed to go out!” He smirked.

“How would you know? I’m sorry princess but the rules are untouchable.” You know that he wasn’t even one bit sorry.

You thought in silence for a moment, before an idea came to your mind.

Now you were the one to smirk.

“If you don’t take me with you. I’ll tell mom that you’ve been seeing my maid every night instead of standing outside of my room.” He widened his eyes at your threat.

You had plenty of time inside that castle, and the only way of spending them quickly included spying on the people that surrounded you. It wasn’t something you were proud of, but in order to survive the boringness, it was the only option.

“You’re not telling anything.” He said with a lightly shaky voice and you shrugged.

“Not if you bring me with you.” Crossing your arms, you waited for his response and smiled when you saw him groaning in annoyance.

“Just get dressed properly. You won’t tell anything to your mother. Not about me, nor about the fact that I let you out of the castle. Now be quick.”

And that was how you found yourself out of the walls for the first time in your life.

✥✥✥✥

Strangely enough, the town was exactly like how you expected it to be.

A large crowd filled the streets and each person moved as if unseeing hands dragged them this way and that, pulling their eyes to one thing and the other. You could feel the tight grip of your guard as you walked next to him, feeling uncomfortable in your wide and rich gown – in deep contrast with the poor rags that others wore as they looked at you with a hint of hatred in their eyes.

You would have undressed yourself of those clothes in front of anyone if you could, so that they could see the scars and the bruises caused by the tight corsage that your maid forced you to wear. They were so quick to judge, but you didn’t blame them. You could understand why they were coming from.

The asphalted street was occupied by a large number of stands, each with different items and workers inside. They sold food, furniture, objects, animals and many other things that you had never saw before.

Standing in the middle of all that chaos made you feel a sensation that you’ve never felt before – you were alive.

“Wait here, I need to get what the queen asked for, then we’ll go away from this shithole.” He muttered and you scoffed. How could he describe it a shithole, when you were used to live inside of a cage?

As soon as he gave you his shoulders to wait in line at a stand, you decided to take advantage of the situation, and look around as much as you could before he came back.

You were aware that sooner or later he would have found you, but postponing that moment was still possible.

You walked around without worrying about your long skirt, that was swiping the dirt from the street as you looked at the different stands – and you let your hair get loose from the unbreathable grip that the maid had created to keep them in place.

You looked at sellers of flowers, the source of the smell that you could sense in your own castle; and sellers of food that cooked the meals that you’ve only eaten – without knowing how they could become what they were.

The sight of a young men inside a stand caught your attention, and you unconsciously walked closer to where he was sitting, furrowing your eyebrows when you saw a sphere of quartz crystal in front of his hands.

Many people were waiting in line to sit in front of him and hear about their future and the fortune that they would have encountered, while the man smiled at them and touched the crystal ball lightly with his finger and closed his eyes – letting out warm words that would have left them anybody content and satisfied with how they’ve spent their money.

Without noticing, you found yourself next in line and your eyes met his majestic ones.

He was wearing a brown blouse and his brown hair was brushed back by his hand when a smirk compared on his face as soon as his eyes landed on you.

“Take a sit princess.” He voiced with a voice sweeter than the desserts of your castle’s cuisine, and you obliged – feeling somewhat enchanted by him.

“H-how did you know?” You asked, wondering if your clothes gave out too much information.

“I didn’t” He said under his smirk and you felt your cheeks blush.

“Excuse me if I ask you, your highness-“ He started but you cut him off.

“I’m not a highness, my mother is. I’m just her daughter.” You muttered and he smiled before correcting himself.

“Well, princess, why would you come here of all places and ask to a fortune teller to read your future?”

You shrugged “Can’t I?” He tilted his head.

“I thought the royal life offered more interesting things to do.” You furrowed your brows at his words.

“You mean like giving fake hopes to beggars?” You said and, for a moment, you worried that what you said might have offended him, but his small smirk said otherwise.

“I read the future. I just decide to ignore the bad sides of it.” Now it was his time to shrug and you nodded at what he said, thinking about it for a moment before speaking up.

“Mind reading mine?” You asked and he smiled at you “Not at all.”

You waited as he looked at the crystal sphere in front of him, and you rolled your eyes at the whole acting, before looking at him again.

Unlike before, the smile on his face had disappeared.

“You’re in danger.” He muttered before looking up, behind you - you widened your eyes.

“W-Wait...What?” You got up from your sit and he did the same, taking you by your arm.

“What are you doing?” You asked feeling him pulling you lightly.

“We need to get out of here now.” He said, looking at you in the eyes before a scream made its way to the crowd of the plaza.

“Y/N!” You recognize the voice of your guard and you looked at the fortune teller with confused eyes.

“It’s just my guard.” You said and he shook his head. It was then that you started hearing other voices, all overlapping each other. They all started screaming: at first you couldn’t understand what they were saying but as the voices were getting louder and stronger you understood the whole crowd has started screaming and looking for you: the rich princess lost in the city.

“You’re surrounded...” He breathed, without letting go of your arm and you froze at his words.

“We need to go. I’ll hide you.” For some reason, the stranger in front of you made you feel safer than the guard who was supposed to protect you with his life, and you decided to take the hand that he was offering – to step towards freedom. No more maids, no more controlling, no more watching eyes. You’ve always wanted to escape from that hell, and now someone was offering you just that.

The screams of your guard continued as he looked for you in the crowd, but the young man started to ran away from there with his hand tight around his, towards somewhere safe.

✥✥✥✥

You kept on stumbling over your gown, trying to keep up with the pace of the young man who kept on running, urging you not to give up and to keep on running.

You walked through narrow streets, dark spaces, trying to get away from the noises or shouts.

At one point, the stone houses started to minimize, more green was showing in between them.

And as vegetation started to increase, the young man's pace started to slow down.

When you entered in a deep forest, he let go of your hand and stopped walking, to let you catch your breath. And once you managed to stand on your feet without being afraid of falling from exhaustation, he started walking again, slowly this time.

The forest was deep but full of light, birds chirping and the noise of your shoes breaking thin branches.

Then suddenly the trees disappeared: you saw an immense cornfield, a golden color kissed by the rays of sun, in the middle of which you saw what seemed like a normal house.

The outside was covered by grey stones, its roof made of many tiles.

As you walked on a path in the middle of the cornfield, you could feel the wheat underneath your feet.

Once the boy opened the small red door, your senses were welcomed by strong scents of what seemed erbs and spices. The house seemed really big, but the rooms appeared so small because of the amount of stuff there was in there: black wooden tables almost entirely covered by thick books, parchments and strange tools of all forms.

Some where rounded, some where pointy and in the middle of others you could see crystals and stones.

"Welcome to my humble abode, my princess. My name's Jimin, just a poor futureteller at your service" you could hear the smirk in his voice as he bowed to his feet in a dramatic move. You took a look at his clothes: you could see intricate but subtle patterns in the fabric, the simbols on his rings and necklaces. "Born in a small village and travelled across the world to learn all that I could." "Y/N" you said playing his game, with a small bow.

"I was born in the royal castle and I've never left from there. They kept me busy by making me s-"

"sew and painting your parents and relatives to hung the artworks on the walls and show every nobleman the skills of the princess. But you never really liked being forced, that's why you used to leave small but controversial details in your paintings". He completed your sentence as he took off his jacket, waking inside what you presumed was his living room. You stood there, eyes wide open as he described such intimate details of your life.

"H-how did you know that? You lived in the castle, or what?” As you waited for a response, Jimin kept on looking at you with a smirk on his face as he played with his necklaces and sat on a big, black chair. You stood in front of him with hands tight around the material of your gown - feeling ready to go towards the door. Maybe following him wasn’t the best idea.

"..d-do you actually read the future? Or the past?" your being nervous started to grow: he didn't respond and you began hearing strange noises coming from other rooms. You remembered all the books you had read at the castle about supernatural creatures, thinking that they were all just a result of a great imagination, but when in particular had to do with fortune telling.

"Are you a witch?" the loud noise of books hitting the ground made you jump.

Books were falling from the shelves, parchments were floating: you were at the point of screaming at him to give you an answer, still sitting there as he focused on his necklaces, when a big vase in the corner of the room broke and pieces flew everywhere.

You jumped at the loud noise and he looked up at you with shiny eyes. It was then that you backed off towards the door and ran away from that damned place.

Your legs were numb as you ran away from the second time in a day. You passed the cornfield, feeling like the weight of the gown you were wearing was slowing you down, before you reached the forest. You turned back, to see if Jimin had decided to look for you but he wasn't following you. The only thing behind you were your shadow and the bright light of a sunset that soon would have brought dark: you needed to hurry up before the darkness swallowed the forest.

Feeling tired of running around with the huge weight, you looked around for something sharp around the forest. It could have been useful to cut off the excessive cloth on your dress.

It was only after a plenty amount of minutes, that you managed to find a rock that could be used to your purpose and you teared off your gown - sighing in relief when you walked around without that huge weight on your legs. You followed the footprints on the ground, trying your best to go back towards the city where you could have hidden yourself in other ways, but you immediately stopped when big figures hanging some sort of announcement on walls and trees came to your sight.

You squeezed your eyes trying to catch something on them but your blood froze when your name in capitals, your painting and the price came to sight. Your heart started racing and without realizing you almost tripped backing off, causing one of the guards to look in your direction.

“Is someone there?” He called out with a grunt and you managed to hide behind a tree, not even breathing. It took them a couple of seconds before giving up on trying to see with the now missing light of the sun. When you realized they were gone, you started walking back to the forest, hugging yourself as frightening sounds came to your ears.

You needed help and the only person willing to give it to you was the one you just escaped from.

✥✥✥✥

It didn’t take you long to realize that being out in the wild by yourself was only going to be a suicide move from your side, and it was exactly the reason why you found yourself with wheat against your legs – just meters away from the damned house that you visited just a couple of hours before.

You knocked a couple of times on the red door, and it took the young man only a moment before opening with a smirk stamped on his face. The one that he probably had since you first met him.

“I knew you would came back.” He stated before letting you come inside and closing the door.

You looked around, shocked to see that the mess of before was all cleaned up and the broken vase laid intact where it was supposed to be. What was he?

“A wizard. Or a warlock if you feel like being fancy.” Jimin answered, making you gasp.

“You read my mind?” You asked him and he shrugged, going towards a table filled with potions and bottles with different coloured liquids.

“I can do almost anything that involves magic, but I prefer working with potions and spells.” He said with a calm voice, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

He was opening a huge book written in a language that you couldn’t understand as he spoke, searching for a page in particular.

“I thought witches didn’t exist.” You muttered under your breath and he chuckled.

“You don’t know about the existence of many things, my princess.” Jimin joked and looked up at you, moving his hands up in defence when he saw that you weren’t smiling.

“Maybe it’s too soon to joke about that.” You nodded at his words and walked around the living room, enchanted by the different objects that you could find in every corner.

“No worries, I’ll take my time to teach you everything you need to know about my world.” He said and you looked at him with wide eyes.

“Really? I can stay here?”

“Well, I had no problems before. But after you ran away like that I don’t know…” You froze on the spot as he responded deep in thoughts and you panicked, so much that you didn’t notice the common smirk on his face.

“You took me by surprise! I’ve never met a witch before, I’m sorry if that offended you. I really don’t know where else to go.” You begged as you walked towards him with scared eyes, and for a moment he regretted playing around too much.

“You can stay here but on one condition.” Jimin started before passing a hand through his dark hair and you nodded, looking at him with excitement.

“I’ll give loyalty and protection to the princess…” He looked back at his table, taking the book that he was reading before and placing it in front of you.

“If she helps me make a potion in exchange.” You furrowed your brows and you detached your eyes from his to look at the name of the potion, the only readable word of the page: Invenio.

✥✥✥✥

"So what’s the potion about?".

The hot cup you had in your hands was warming up your cold body, making the room smell like berries and fruits.

Your partially bare legs were covered by a thick blanket as you sat on the soft couch.

"Just something I need, but I can't make it alone.” Jimin was sitting on the other end of the couch, legs crossed and hands holding a cup similar to yours, with the only difference that the spoon was moving without no one touching it.

"But I'm not a which, how can I help you?" you were looking at him, curious. His dark locks shielded part of his face from your eyes, but his were fixed with a bored look on his magical spoon.

"You'll see." You weren't a particular short tempered girl, but he was for sure testing your patience.

His smirks, the vague answers, the misteries. But for some reason you couldn't help but feel attraction towards him: maybe not in a romantic way, maybe just because of how interesting he was. You couldn't tell yet, but for sure you felt something strange linking you to him.

"Then what is it for?" your soft lips touched the mug and your mouth was welcomed by a strong yet enjoyable feeling. Your senses calmed down as you drank in the hot fluid, feeling more comfortable after each sip.

"It lets you...find someone" his eyes were now looking at your hands holding the cup to your lips, and then at your eyes. His dark eyes didn't feel intrusive as they took in your posture, your figure and your features. They seemed curious, and for a second you bet you had saw a shy, proper smile on his lips.

"Years ago a friend had to go away, and even after promising he would have wrote me, I haven't heard anything from him in years. Almost like he disappeared."

"He must have been a really close friend for you to miss him so much.".

And indeed he was. His name was Taehyung, and him and Jimin had been friends since childhood. They had done everything together, from kids things to sharing secrets and advice in their more grown up days. Since he had been gone, Jimin felt lonlier that ever.

You stood there listening to his shooting voice as he told you about their adventures, their accidents, their mischief. You couldn't help but smile when you saw Jimin so happy to recall such long gone times.

It felt strange, staying there under a blanket sipping tea: hours before you almost felt threatened there, and now you were slowly feeling at home.

✥✥✥✥

The sun had set hours ago, and after asking you if you were hungry, to which you responded you weren't, he took you to a cozy room: the bed was covered by many different blankets and pillows. He surely did know you loved being surrounded by them. A big window was ready to be covered by thick curtains, and in front of the bed there were a mirror, many shelves and a wardrobe. You opened it and inside you saw what seemed like dozens of different dresses: their colors went from light yellows and pinks to deep burgundy and purples.

On the bed you also saw a sheer, thin nightgown of a cream color. You stood there for a second, but then you realized something: how were you supposed to take your corset off?

Grabbing the lace with your hands, you tried to tear it off with all the force left in your body - failing miserably after only a few seconds. Usually, your caring maid would do it for you although you begged her to teach you so that you could be at least independent in the way you dressed, but she always shook her head saying that a princess shouldn’t wound her hands.

After feeling a sharp pain in your right rib, you decided that asking for help was probably going to be the right choice and you headed to the only man that could actually do something about it.

Jimin was sitting on his bed, bathed in a big book, as some tall, white candles burned quietly.

He was turning yet another page when the soft sound of knuckles hitting the door came to his ears.

He immediately stood up, wondering if he had forgot to give you something and scolded himself for being so dumbfounded until he opened the door, when he saw you standing him front of him with only a corset and a sheet, ripped petticoat.

He felt his ears and cheeks tinting of a pink color as you looked at him, almost embarassed. Your naked shoulders looked like they would glow and for a moment he wondered how they would look like if covered with love bites - but was quick to shake his head and get those thoughts out of his head. You were part of the royal family, how could he even think about such thing. if anyone knew, he would have been guillotined on the spot.

"I...I was wondering if you could help me to take this off." You looked so fragile, so pure in front of his eyes, just like a kid that never really learned how to put her clothes on.

He smiled at the soft scene and opened further the door, letting you in.

"Of course". You looked around, seeing a big bed, books everywhere. His desk was full of vials, bottles and flasks. The young boy had discarded his clothes, that now were placed on a chair.

His body was covered by light brown pants and a loose, sheer white blouse.

He made you sign to sit on his bed, and he took place beside as you turned a bit so that he could face your back.

“Usually my maid does it for me...its not that I don’t know how to do it, it’s just to hard for me to reach for it.” You explained feeling somewhat embarrassed and worried that he might think of you as spoiled, but Jimin was quick to make you relax by chuckling briefly.

You stood there, trying not to make noise even while breathing. You started feeling his warmth and his perfume, almost intoxicating.

His fingers started tracing your skin, from your neck to your lower back. You felt shivers everywhere, cold and warm at the same time.

You had never experienced such an intimate touch, and the more he touched your bare skin, the more you craved it.

His slim fingers started to undo the bows of your tight corset, and he couldn't unhear the way you sighed of relief when he loosened the strings.

You felt his hot breath on your shoulders, then the feeling of cold air hitting your bare back signaled you that the corset was fully untied.

You placed your hands on your chest, keeping the corset in place and making sure it wouldn't leave your body bare in front of his eyes.

You tried to get up when you felt his warm fingers on your skin again.

And you almost flinched when his fingertips traced your scars.

His gaze was fixed on the folds of your skin, red and purple splashes and tiny scars from the friction of the laces on your soft skin.

Both of his hands started tracing your sides and they stopped when they reached your waist, that until not much earlier was being suffocated by the strong, oppressive material.

Jimin wondered why the wounds on your skin felt like he had them himself, and he looked at your back with sad eyes - feeling like he should hold you back from going back to the royal lifestyle once again.

He couldn't help but place a soft kiss on the nape of your neck, whispering a soft "I'm sorry" before letting you go.

You wondered if he felt sorry for the kiss, or for the scars that he had seen, but the thoughts were cut off as soon as you laid on your bed - letting the sleepiness take over.

✥✥✥✥

The morning after, Jimin decided to wake you up in a very unconventional way, dropping a couple of pots on the floor right next to your sleeping form - causing you to almost die of a heart attack.

You looked at him with shocked eyes as he laid chuckling in front of your room, announcing that you had just about half a hour to get ready before starting to work on the potion.

After discovering that Jimin had casually thrown your corset in the trash, you wore the dress that he had given you - which fitted you perfectly and was almost as comfortable as your night vest - and you sat down next to him in the other room, ready to learn about what you had to help him with for the mysterious potion.

"What does this mean?" your fingertips were tracing strange looking simbols on the yellow paper of a big book, placed on the table of the living room. Pointy, long strokes of ink that, combined, created intricate symbols and drawings.

"It's a recipe, for the potion". Jimin was standing next to you, letting you look at the page he had opened a moment earlier.

"It's so strange..." your eyes were still glued on those black strokes, trying to translate them in any way possible, frustrated at your sudden ignorance.

"It's called Flaedrian. Every witch learns it when they are little, my mother tought it to me when I was 6." a smile grew on his pink lips.

"She's also a witch?" You asked, looking at him curiously.

"My grandma was one. My mother never got this gift, but she learned all the languages and potions that had anything to do with magic" he remembered.

"Anyway, this is why I need help. This potion lets you find people, but it has some kind of...a higher price than usual" he seemed uncomfortable, almost scared. You looked at him with a confused expression, waiting for him to go on.

"It needs royal blood" The witch wondered if you would back off after finding out that you would have to hurt yourself in order to help him, but to his surprise, you were looking back at him with no expression at all on your face.

"How much you need?" Jimin was taken back by the strenght and convinction in your voice, not even a drop of fear.

His eyes scanned quickly the page, translating the simbols in words in his head.

"5 drops" He didn't even had the time to reassure you about it, you already had a knife in your hand and made a cut on the other palm. Ruby red drops colored the bottom of a porcelain cup, and the contrast between the red and the pure white seemed so strange to your eyes.

He gasped, grabbing a towel from the table and wrapping your hand around it before looking at you ready to scold.

“I need 5 drops, not a whole barrel. Why would you use the knife? I could just lend you the needle.” You laughed at his behavior, shrugging.

“It’s not like a cut will kill me, you know?” He looked at you with furrowed brows before leaving your hand and looking at the red filled bottle.

“I just need to mix the blood with other ingredients but I think I have them in my cabin already. Maybe I still need to get something from the city, it’s no big deal.” He ignored you, reading the old and dusty book that now laid on his thighs as he sat back on the couch.

You sat next to him, looking at the weird signs on the book’s pages.

“It’s so fascinating.” You whispered, touching the page with your fingertips.

Jimin looked at you as you stared down on the pages, feeling his heart getting warmer at the sight of you with messy and loose hair. The dress that you were wearing was the first thing that he had made that morning, after throwing your corset away. It took him half an hour to made something comfortable enough to not irritate the wounds that you had in your back, but the view of you in it made it all worth it.

It was so natural, almost as if he could see a future with you by his side like that.

When you look up from the book, you gasped lightly when you noticed that Jimin was looking at you so closely, without backing off. The two of you stared at each other fondly for a couple of seconds, before he decided to get up shaking his head lightly - leaving you on the couch as he told you that lunch would have been ready soon.

For the second time he had imagined something that should have been forbidden, and he doubted that those thoughts would have disappeared anytime soon.

✥✥✥✥

Weeks passed by quickly with Jimin by your side and each day you felt more thankful for him and for the decision that he had made that day in the city.

You were learning about witchcraft and supernatural traditions by staying with him, and you were also learning about real life - the one that you didn’t get to live in your own home.

That night, you were chilling in your bed after a long session of reading Jimin’s old book with the witch itself.

The potion was almost done, the only missing ingredient was the one that Jimin didn’t own - an adventitious maca root that could be bought in a small cornered shop that you’ve never heard of before. It was far from the centre of town, and you were sure that no one would have recognized you if you went there - since, as Jimin said, only a few people knew about it. Maybe going and buying it for him as a surprise would have been a nice present to thank him for all the things that he had done for you since he first find you.

So you decided to go and you successfully got the ingredient, wrapping it as a present and placing it under your bed, ready to give it to him.

The rush of thought was stopped by the sound of knocking from the closed door of your room. You furrowed your brows at the sight of the hour, why would Jimin look for you at 11.53 PM?

“Come in.” You said, sitting up on the mattress of your bed and he opened the door slowly before closing it again once he entered.

He was holding a small package in his hands and what seemed like ointment filled it.

“I hope I didn’t wake you up.” He muttered with a blush obvious in his cheeks that made you smile sweetly - you haven't seen him so embarrassed since the day you asked him to take off your corset.

“No no don’t worry about it? What’s up?” You asked patting a spot beside you in bed and he quickly sat down, chewing on his lip.

“I just...I made you this.” He showed you the package and you tilted your hand.

“What’s it for?”You asked and he rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment.

“I saw the wounds and scars that you have on you so I made this ointment. I made a spell on it so it should make them disappear completely...it just..it looked like you were in pain.” He explained and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Jimin I...” You stuttered and he looked down and you reached out your hand to touch his thigh.

“Thank you, really. I’m so thankful for all the things you’re doing for me.” You said and he looked up to look at you in the eyes.

No words were spoken as you looked at each other.

“Do you want me to put it on you, I don’t know if you can reach it.” Jimin said scolding himself mentally, the blush reddening once again on his cheeks and you chuckled.

“Sure...” You mumbled, turning to give him your back.

You started unbuttoning your blouse, feeling slightly embarrassed at the intimacy, and you used the cloth to cover your chest as your naked back faced the blushing witch.

You hissed slightly when his fingers came in contact with your skin, massaging the cream that he had made on your scars with gentle movements that caused you to close your eyes and relax at the feeling.

Jimin didn’t know what he was doing, he knew that it was wrong and that he needed to keep a distance if he wanted to stop himself from trying anything on you.

Your presence had weird affects on him, as if you were a spell that he couldn’t get enough of. He gas falling in love, and you were becoming the only thing that he thought about when he first opened his eyes in the morning and the last think he saw when he went to sleep.

“Hey...Jimin, I want to give you something” you suddenly said, pulling your robe back on and turning to face him. He looked at you slightly confused with a tint of red still present on his checks.

“What...?” He asked and you got up from the bed, kneeling down to pick up the small box that you placed there earlier.

“I wanted to give you this present..as a thank you for all the things that you’ve done for me during this time. You truly changed my life and I can’t believe that a small trip to the city ended with me meeting you” now it was your time to blush and you looked at him as you handed him the small box wrapped in scarlet-Coloured paper.

He wrapped his fingers around it and started to rip the paper with slowly, with a bit of hesitation.

As soon as the last ingredient for the potion came to his sight he couldn’t help but gasp, widening his eyes.

“Y/N I can’t believe it... when did you get this?” He asked incredulously, now looking at you with a smile on his face.

“Just the other morning.” You chuckled.

“You were asleep and I decided to sneak out and find it before you woke up. It was a hard because no one knew where it was, but I’m glad that I remembered some information that you gave me a couple of days ago.” You continued, feeling his hands in yours. He had put the small box on the bed, reaching out for your hands as soon as they were free.

“I have no words...really. Thank you.” He said looking at your hands and then at your eyes.

Your hands intertwined and you got lost in his gaze, a gaze full of adoration and gratitude that made you feel warm and loved.

“I should be the one saying thank you. Jimin you’re my saviour.” You muttered without deataching your gaze from his.

His hands reached for your cheek and he caressed it with his thumb, looking for a moment at your red lips before speaking up again.

“I think I’m falling in love with you.” He whispered, now the distance between your faces was shorter than ever before.

“I think I’m in love with you too.” You laughed touching his wrist, his hand still on your cheek.

“Who would have thought that I would have fell in love with a princess” he smiled, all fears pushed aside when he saw your lips curve at those words. You felt the same.

After a brief chuckle you couldn’t help but kiss him delicately, touching his lips with your and reaching to touch his neck, brushing his hair with your finger.

He responded almost instantly, pushing you as close as possible to him with eagerness.

Jimin held you close, squeezing your waist with his hands and pushing you on top of the bed without breaking the kiss.

“I guess from now on it’ll just be us..” he murmured in between the kisses.

“The with and the princess” he chuckled, kissing your cheek, then you neck, your collarbone.

You laughed and moaned at his touch.

“I wouldn’t want it any other way” you said, falling deeply in love and thinking about how bright your future with him would be.

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woodrokiro · 3 years

Text

Do It For the Band, Part Four

Fandom: Bleach

Pairing: IchiRuki

Summary: When Tatsuki said she wanted their sophomore album to be the next Rumours, this is NOT what she meant. Band AU. Read Part One, Two, and Three.

Rukia’s sure they’re not crossing any lines.

… Pretty sure.

She’s never been in a band like this before--or, well. A band, period. And from the movies she’s watched, the musician biographies she’s read and the behind-the-album documentaries she’s seen she imagines her group’s closeness is normal. Grabbing a tea and writing in a coffee shop with Chad, meeting up with Tatsuki at bars and picking out cute girls the drummer might like--these sort of things are normal. They’re her friends, after all.

And she doesn’t do much different with Ichigo. It just… Feels different.

Especially when they start spending time together after recording sessions.

They don’t even do anything, really. Mostly just put on a record at Ichigo’s place and talk about their favorite albums. Sometimes they’ll watch a movie together: Rukia on one far end of his tattered, second-hand couch, curled into the arm while Ichigo tries to scrounge something up for dinner in the kitchen behind her.

And… Okay, she’s fallen asleep there. A couple times. But in a completely platonic way. She’ll wake up on his couch with a blanket over her, and Ichigo will walk in and nag at her for sinking the cushions of his couch and she’ll groggily snap back that maybe he should get a new couch then--

She’s stayed late there so often that Ichigo bought her a toothbrush to keep in the bathroom (“I can smell your morning breath all the way from the bedroom”), but it’s fine because it is! So! Platonic!!!

They’re friends. They’re friends.

She’s (pretty) sure of it.

It’s the end of the recording sessions when they go to her place because she had forgotten the champagne she meant to bring for celebrating their last day. The recording studio happened to be only a few blocks away, but he insisted on walking back with her to grab them.

(“Shut up and let me be a gentleman” he had grumbled, and Rukia tries to ignore Tatsuki’s stare piercing them both).

They had just finished climbing the six stories in her apartment building when she spies the roses at her door.

He scoffs. “Who are those from? Yourself?”

She rolls her eyes, picking up the flowers to read the card attached. “Good one, idiot. No. My brother.”

“Byakuya? What the hell does he want?”

She’s surprised he remembers his name; then again, she supposes she’s mentioned him in passing enough times.

It’s funny: the little details they know about each other by now.

“Don’t talk about him so crudely. I told him about the album awhile ago.”

“Yeah, and you said he never responded.” He waits respectfully in the hallway as she unlocks her door. She immediately starts shuffling through her studio in an attempt to find a vase. “I don’t get why you still talk to him. The guy kicks you out of the house, takes away your allowance you depend on--just because he doesn’t want you to do music? The thing he arranged for you to have lessons for in the first place?”

“You’re oversimplifying it.” She rummages through her cupboards. “He wanted me to go to college for a career--I told him I didn’t want to. I said I wanted to be a musician. He said that was fine, I was a young woman who could make her own decisions… And as such, I’d need to do it on my own. I agreed. I don’t want anybody’s money, and he’s helped me enough as it is.”

“... He should still support you--”

“He does. In his own way.” Her eyes light up at what she’s been looking for: the glass beaker for a French press that broke on her a couple weeks ago. She lifts it with one hand and the roses in the other, a silent question toward him. At Ichigo’s shrug/nod combo, she starts filling the beaker with tap water. “Maybe he doesn’t vocally support it. The creative life is scary. You know that. Technically you wouldn’t want your sisters as starving musicians either, right? But a couple months before I met up with you guys, I was behind on my rent. One day, right before I was sure I was going to get kicked out: my landlord says it was all paid for. Just like that. And I’ve sworn every day, up and down, that my brother’s never going to need to do that for me ever again.”

“He should want to do that for you.”

“I think he does. But I want to make my own way, and he knows that. These flowers are more than kind.” She steps back and assesses her flower arrangement in the beaker, nodding once. Good enough.

He’s uncharacteristically quiet as she grabs the two bottles from her fridge and returns back to the hallway. She’s attempting to lock her front door with the bottles in one arm and keys in the other when he snorts, tapping her wine-carrying arm.

“Here, I’ll take ‘em.” Begrudgingly, she hands them over. “You try to do too much by yourself.”

“Yes, because I have to.” She focuses her attention back on the lock (the door could be rather tricky) when she feels him nudge her arm again.

“No. You really don’t.” She looks back and up at him and suddenly for the first time they feel very, very close. “Look I don’t--the fact that your brother doesn’t know what a fucking phenominal talent you have astounds me. But you have people now. You have me.”

Time completely stops as they stare at each other. Rukia feels frozen in place--but Ichigo is… Well. He looks like he’s only sort of embarrassed at own sentiment, judging from the faint blush on his cheeks--but mostly he seems sure of himself, confident and fearless and golden.

That is Ichigo, she realizes. She’s really never met anyone like him.

She’ll never know what either of them were about to do when suddenly her neighbor’s door swings open behind him.

The sound jolts them both, and her elderly neighbor smiles apologetically. She waves, and when she looks back at him Ichigo is looking down at his shoes, clearing his throat.

“Hurry up ‘n lock the door. The others are waiting for us--especially Tatsuki. You know how stoked she was when you told her about the champagne.”

Rukia nods and tries to shake the odd feeling that an opportunity was just missed.

---

They’re getting a tour.

Tatsuki is in euphorics. They’re getting a fucking tour.

Urahara says they’re starting small--mostly because the label wants to test the waters on them. Just four cities, fronting for a rock band called Espada. They’re all kind of douchey assholes but it doesn’t even matter. She knows her band is better, and in just a few years they’ll be begging to front for Karakura Soul Society.

Still, even though it’s a small tour Tatsuki manages to sweet talk Urahara into hiring her good friend as their stage manager. “We need somebody to keep us organized back there. Help us sound check and everything, you know? And frankly, Urahara… You’re a mess.”

… It becomes clear to the team within the first ten minutes of her employment that Orihime Inoue is also, as it happens, a disaster--but she’s bubbly and ambitious and works hard and Tatsuki may be not-so-secretly in love with her so of course everyone loves her immediately, too.

Once they’re on the road, the whole tour itself is kind of a blur. Their first city is… Decent. They sound great, but there’s some tech issues that Orihime apologizes profusely for. Grimmjow, the lead singer of Espada says something snide about “fucking yuppies” and Ichigo and Tatsuki both have to be held back from absolutely pulvarizing the cocky motherfucker--but yeah it’s decent.

At least, Urahara points out, it adds a bit of a competitive edge between the two bands.

He’s right. The next couple cities they absolutely kill it.

With Chad’s shredding it on his base and Tatsuki feeling like a God at her drums--the two of them alone would be something to contend with.

But combined with Ichigo and Rukia…

Tatsuki doesn’t know what’s going on between them, and frankly: she doesn’t care anymore. She’s decided it’s none of her business whether her best friend is getting his brains screwed out or if they really are “just friends,” as Rukia insists.

What matters is what’s going right here, right in the performance.

As usual, they are so in sync with each other it’s scary--but now, there’s emotion too. There’s an electric energy when they sing the chorus to Fullbringer, a deep melancholy when they harmonize on Masaki. The band is only able to perform about five of their songs, but they’ve arranged the order so the audience gets to go through a journey--and it all ends on Sun and Moon.

It’s easily their best crowd pleaser, and for good reason.

It sounds cheesy, but there is such an upbeat joy to the song that even scowl-loving Ichigo grins during its entirety, and Rukia--always so poised--bounces at her keyboard, bopping her head to the beat. The bridge is absolutely wild, and the whole thing moves so fast that Tatsuki is going harder at her drums than she ever has. It was a bitch to practice, but man. Man does it it fucking end a show.

At the end of Espada’s last show, the crowd demands an encore… From their front band.

“Eat shit,” Grimmjow hisses as they unexpectedly make their way back to the stage, and Tatsuki knows for an asshole like him to be this pissed: it’s a compliment.

---

They’re feeling so pumped about the whole tour that at the end of that encore, even Chad agrees to go out to a nearby pub to celebrate.

The group is on Cloud 9 as they float into the semi-crowded bar, and Tatsuki feels even more of a high when some of the patrons--fresh from the show--cheer as they enter. A guy orders the band shots, and from that point on things get… Uh. Kind of blurry.

Chad does manage to escape early, but not before she challenges him to a game of who can drink a pint faster. Orihime glows next to her as she sips her own fruity cocktail, cheering Tatsuki on in a way that makes her feel powerful even when she loses. Occasionally she catches her friend glancing over at Ichigo with a soft smile that Tatsuki… Doesn’t really want to notice right now. She’s having such a good time, so for what?

Urahara floats, chuckling behind his fan about this and that--leading to a brief debate between Ichigo and Tatsuki whether he’s high, drunk, or both. Rukia pops up out of nowhere, offering a convincing argument of: neither. Urahara is just fucking batshit.

Ichigo and Tatsuki stare at the unexpected profanity.

“What?” Rukia’s face is flushed, and she tries (unsuccessfully) to look like she has the decency to be embarrassed. Suddenly, she grins toothily, grabbing Ichigo’s hand and dragging him to the bar corner’s jukebox. “C’mon, idiot. You’re helping me pick out a song.”

Tatsuki doesn’t pay much more attention to the two after that--she’s too busy getting another drink, getting Orihime another drink, seeing if she can get Urahara to confess he’s committed at least one felony in his lifetime, and if so which one--but she happens to overhear their conversation at one point when they’re getting drinks.

“... Swift is a stellar songwriter, Kurosaki. I’m telling you--”

“Come oooooon--”

“No, you--you come on, Ichigo. Ichigo Kurosaki.” Rukia pokes her finger at Ichigo’s chest, and Tatsuki sees him failing to hide a smile. “She had a… Taylor has iffy periods, of course she does. But have you… Have you even listened to the lyrics of Blank Space?

“Whassat?”

“You’ve heard that song, don’t you--don’t you even start--”

Tatsuki rolls her eyes and takes her leave. Listening to drunk straight people flirt is excruciating.

Still: whether it’s from the warm buzz of alcohol or the general high of the good night or her just loving her friends… She’s happy for them.

When she leaves, Blank Space is blaring from the jukebox. She looks back to see Rukia and Ichigo intimately close. Rukia is beaming up at him, shouting over the music that she can only imagine is the song lyrics. Ichigo’s body is curved toward her, watching and bobbing his head with a soft smile.

Good for them, Tatsuki thinks dreamily before immediately finding a dumpster to throw up in.

#ichiruki #bleach #ichigo kurosaki #rukia kuchiki #my stuff #do it for the band

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varibean · 4 years

Text

Try Turning It Off And On Again

This was my piece for the tangled dreams zine that can be found here! I wanted to try writing a bit of Team Awesome/Dadgene so I hope y’all enjoy and lmk what you think!

Read On AO3

It was no small exaggeration to say that, on paper, Varian was living a near perfect life. It was hard to imagine the boy-or as his father so often called him, ‘young man’-wanting for anything and for the most part he didn’t. After the battle with Zhan Tiri and the terrifying day of the eclipse, all of his dreams had been practically handed to him on a silver platter. Royal Engineer, renowned alchemist, best friend to several important people; with all that under his belt it was hard to imagine him not being in a constant state of euphoria over how well his life was playing out. Especially after his rocky start.

However if someone was to catch him in the early hours of the morning, they would be led to think that nothing had ever gone right in the history of his entire life.

It wasn’t a fact of Varian not being a morning person that was the issue but rather the sheer number of things he had to do once he got up. Early on in his career as royal engineer, Rapunzel thought it to be a great idea that he live in the palace with them. He’d been excited about the prospect at first; getting to live close with his greatest friends? Spending his days working on machines? Winding down at night in the grand ballroom for dinner? Absolutely perfect.

What he hadn’t considered was the fact that, by living in the palace, he was essentially on the clock twenty-four seven. Every morning when he woke up he skipped his usual routine of combing his hair or brushing his teeth in favor of opening up his bedroom door. That action was always greeted with a pile of neatly placed but still numerous scrolls, all left behind by the morning castle page. Each one was either a task, request, or order form filed by any and all who needed his service. It was only after he picked them all up and read through them that he continued his other morning tasks.

Life at the castle was more boring than he’d ever considered life in a castle could be. The whole place worked like clockwork and not the fun kind. The only thing that broke up the monotony of the place was Rapunzel, with her always chipper nature, and Eugene, who often tagged along with her despite his own duties as Captain of the Guard. But even that small burst of excitement was becoming less and less as time went on. Less Rapunzel, less Eugene, more work.

When Varian first arrived, everything had been wonderful and new. The scrolls at his doorstep were exciting projects, not boring chores. He had time for his own inventions and endeavors no matter how small they were, and most importantly, he got to spend time with his friends. All of those things were slowly fading, dwindling in time and importance as his daily tasks grew and grew. When writing his father about it, the older man simply replied that it was all part of growing up. Varian hated that. Still, the days dragged on, the ever steady pace of the castle completely uncaring to his internal plight of drudgery.

____

It was on a day of heavy rain and wind when Varian got the notice that something was wrong with the boilers. Nothing major enough to cause an entire village to explode, he’d been sure to put that safety precaution in place, but enough to warrant a knock on his door as he was preparing for lunch. No ham sandwich break for him today.

Apparently some rainwater had managed to seep through the shallow earth and gotten into the underground reservoir used to fill the tankers, in turn causing them to overflow. It wasn’t the overflow that was causing any structural issues, the machines wouldn’t rust overnight after all, but it was causing an imbalance in the chemical reaction. Too much water meant there was more liquid than the chemicals could properly heat, leaving everyone with lukewarm water. Tragic.

Duty called though and lunch would have to wait.

“Lukewarm water. Oh”, Varian said sarcastically to Ruddiger as he prepared to go down and find the leaky bit of earth that was causing the problem, “The horror of it all.”

The people of Corona could survive a day or two without hot water, but why should they when they had a Royal Engineer at their disposal? Nevermind the fact that he was a person too, who was currently missing out on his meal so that everyone else could wash their hands in comfort.

He bit back the desire to spout out another sarcastic comment to his furry companion, knowing that he was just being unreasonably bitter because he was hungry. Food would still be there when he got done; the longer he ignored the problem the worse it would get. In all fairness, it took priority. Besides, something like sealing up a bit of loose earth and diverting the dripping water from the tankers would be an easy fix. He could do it in his sleep.

____

Varian had been correct in assuming that the boiler problem would be an easy fix, maybe slightly tedious at best. What he hadn’t accounted for was how difficult it would be to simply get down to the reservoirs in the first place.

The problems started the second he stepped out of his room and into the main hallways of the castle. Ruddiger trotted beside him happily, the fat animal knowing that his only job was companionship and nothing more. Given the time of day and the raininess outside the place was busier than it normally was. Gardeners muttered over their tools, maids rushed to clean up dirt and grime that had been tracked in, and all the other servants began to hustle and bustle around in order to make sure that everyone was safe and well attended to.

It shouldn’t have been a long trek, just a few turns before getting to the downstairs, but the trip was elongated by everyone constantly bumping into him and pushing him aside.

Despite being a respected member of the staff, he was still just a boy in many of their eyes. He glared at the people who brushed past him, knowing that he’d helped each one of them with at least half a dozen things at some point or another. They’d been perfectly kind to him then but now he was nothing more than another body blocking their way. It was easy to be nice to someone while they were doing something for you and even easier to ignore them when the time was over.

Half way through the crowd to his destination he felt a hand grip at his arm and turning around he was met with the stern face of a maid, face flushed with frustration.

“Excuse me young man, you’re the Royal Engineer correct?”

Her voice was twice as haughty as she looked, speaking as if she couldn’t believe that she had to stoop to the level of talking to him in the first place.

“Varian. Just Varian.” He didn’t have time to deal with whatever nonsense the woman needed him for even though he had a sneaking suspicion that he was about to be given no choice.

He was quickly proven right as the woman gave a soft huff and pulled him alongside her to whatever issue she needed fixed. For a moment he considered squirming out of her grasp or maybe telling her that he was busy but as nice as those both seemed he knew that it would only come back to bite him in one form or another. If he didn’t fix whatever problem she had now then he would have to do it later. He was already missing lunch, might as well make the most of things.

She all but shoved him into one of main rooms, where he was met with several maids and servants covered in dust and circled around one of his many machines.

Ah , he thought, That explains a lot.

“Your blasted machine blew up. How are we supposed to clean up dust when the device that you made to help does nothing but blow it back in our faces?” The woman huffed as she crossed her arms.

Varian would have rather been scolded by old lady Crowley than whoever this woman was. At least Crowley didn’t balk like a fish when she was angry.

“Have you tried turning it on and off again?” Varian tried to joke to lighten the mood, but was met with only a cold shoulder and a stifled chitter from Ruddiger.

Eugene or Rapunzel would’ve found it funny.

He signed while leaning down to the device and fixing it up with one very simple step: Flipping the switch from ‘blow’ to ‘suck’.

“Let me know if you have any actual problems with it ma’am. Sadly, even I can’t fix operator errors.”

He skittered out of the room before anyone could berate him for his mouth. He smirked to himself, thinking how funny one of his friends would find that line. That was only the beginning of his troubles though.

It seemed that every step he took towards the boilers, someone needed his assistance.

Nigel’s mechanical pen needed the ink chamber fixed, Hope needed the automatic laundry cart’s wheel to be tightened, one of the chefs needed more preservation chemicals to keep the food fresh until next week.

By the time he actually got to the door to the boiler room it was well past his lunch break, time slowly and steadily creeping towards dinner. Hours of helping crowds of people with their problems and all that just so he could get to the actual problem of the day.

But yet again, right when he was about to turn the knob on the door and enter the stairwell for the boilers at long last, another hand grasped at his arm.

“Hey there buddy-”

“For the sun’s sake I just need to fix one stupid problem!” Varian shouted, turning around to face the stranger who’d grabbed him only to find that it wasn’t a stranger at all.

Instead he was met with Eugene’s surprised and amused face looking down at him, red uniform dampened slightly from the outside rain and hair slicked back in an admittedly stylish fashion.

“Well hello to you too short stack.” Eugene’s response was met with a groan as Varain pushed in the door and began to descend into the underground area. “Rough day?”

“Not more than any other day here.”

“So I’ll take that as a yes. What’re you doing going to the boilers so late, it’s almost chow time kiddo. You know how your dad will chew us out if we don’t get you your three squares a day.”

Even with Eugene’s joking nature Varian could hear a bit of sincerity in his words. He couldn’t bear the thought of confessing that he hadn’t gotten a chance to eat lunch. Instead he just kept walking downwards, the other man following close behind with Ruddiger.

“The rain cracked through one of the underground tunnel walls, which has been causing the small reservoir down there to flow faster. It’s overfilling the machines which means the formula for heating them isn’t working and that means a bunch of people upset at me until I can fix it.”

“Well of course, can’t imagine what a tragedy it must be to go a full day with only lukewarm water.” Eugene’s tone was sarcastic, mimicking Varian’s earlier sentiments on the matter.

Despite the day he had, the alchemist laughed. Of course Eugene of all people would share his same sense of humor at the situation.

“It wouldn’t be so bad if people would just let me get down here in the first place.”

“Nah, they can’t make it too easy on you kiddo, that’ll just make you go soft.”

Another chuckle rang out against the walls. It was more than Varian had laughed in probably an entire week. Suddenly the task of fixing a leak didn’t seem so bad; having company helped and though he loved Ruddiger to pieces, there was only so much conversation that a single raccoon could have.

“So what do we have to do to fix it?” Eugene asked after the laughter had settled and the two made it to the bottom of the steps, leading to the underground tunnels.

“I’m just going to put some of my newest solution on the crack and up the Flynnolium for a few hours. That’ll give everything time to reset by morning and then I’ll adjust the Flynnolium solution release back down to four percent per tanker. And it’ll also give everyone else ample time to find something new to yell at me about.”

Though he spoke with a joking tone he could see the flash of concern that drifted over Eugene’s face, making him instantly regret saying anything at all. He didn’t want to appear ungrateful to the older man; he really did love his job even with the few pitfalls that came with it. His snark was nothing more than the result of a little stress. That’s what he told himself at least.

The rest of the walk was short and comfortably chatty, Eugene going on about his latest guard duties while Varian laughed and ribbed him on his work ethic. It was nice to finally get some time to talk to his friend again, Team Awesome. He almost didn’t want his work day to be finished but the fixes he needed to implement were easy; it had just taken him forever to get down to do them. Just as soon as the two (plus Ruddgier) had made it to the caves, they were back to the top of the staircase.

“Well kid,” Eugene started, “now that we’ve got that all done let’s go get some grub. Don’t want to keep everyone else waiting.”

Eugene began to walk in the direction of the dining hall but Varian stayed put. He was hungry, that much was for sure, but he’d spent all day around people. Being around them, fixing their problems, having them bump into him and squawk at him. It was nice to spend some time with just Eugene but an entire room full of more people...now that was something different entirely.

“Actually I still have some leftovers from lunch in my room.” By which, of course, he meant his entire lunch. “I’m not that hungry anyways so I think I’m going to pass tonight, tell everyone I said hi.”

“Are you sure? Heard there was going to be cookies tonight-”

“Yeah, don’t-don’t worry about me it’s just been...been a really long day.”

Varian mustered up his best smile and gave a thumbs up as he walked away before Eugene could say anything else.

It had been a nice reprieve from his regular day to day drudgery, but it was time to go to bed and start the whole process over again tomorrow.

____

When Varian woke up the next morning he wasn’t tired which was his first clue that something was wrong. He stretched and yawned, squinting as the sun shone brightly through his window which was the second clue.

The third, and by far the most obvious clue, came when he cleared his nose and sniffed a few times and was met with the scent of fresh ham and eggs. Turning to his night stand he saw a brilliantly decorated tray of toast, butter, and scrambled eggs with ham and tomato slices mixed in.

“What in the-oh shit!” Next to the delicious smelling breakfast was his alarm clock which had apparently not gone off despite having wound it up the night before, seeing how the time displayed on it read 11:12. He was late, beyond late. It was nearly noon, he would never hear the end of it. Not only that, but there was a bigger issue at hand.

“The Flynnolium!” He darted up out of bed, not even bothering to put on his work clothes or brush his hair.

He nearly tripped over his own feet trying to reach the door. When he opened it, however, he ran face first into a solid body, sending him reeling back from the impact.

“Well good morning there sleepy head. Man, you really must’ve been worn out to sleep that long huh? Any sweet dreams?” The voice was calm and teasing with just a hint of sincerity playing against the tone of a smile.

“Eugene!” Varian steadied himself and once again tried to get by him. “I can’t talk right now, I have to go. I overslept somehow and-and the Flynnolium has been set on high for too long, I need to get down there and-”

“Set it back to four percent per tanker? Already taken care of buddy. Now come on, I worked all morning on that breakfast and you haven’t even touched it. Well, the royal chef worked all morning on it but I was in the room so i’m pretty sure that counts for something. Supervising, you know, is a very important part of the process.”

“Wha…”

Varian couldn’t even finish his sentence as Eugene guided him back to his bed and sat him down, moving the breakfast tray onto his lap.

“Well don’t sit there wasting all that hard work, dig in.”

“But I don’t...I don’t understand how-what the hell is going on?”

“Language.” Eugene chidded jokingly before sitting down beside the other, “I noticed you seemed a little stressed yesterday. So, I took it upon myself to give you the day off. Woke up this morning and turned the Flynnolium down. Bribed Ruddiger with a few apples to get him to turn your clock off and let you sleep in.”

Varian looked down at the food in his lap, speechless. He hadn’t been that tired, had he?

“Why though?” He asked, quizzically picking up a slice of toast and slowly biting it.

“I just told you, you’re stressed. We’re Team Awesome and Team Awesome looks out for each other.”

Varian continued to crunch slowly and Eugene let out a soft sigh before putting his hand on the other’s back.

“I know the people here demand a lot from you. It would be a big adjustment for anyone just to exist around this place, let alone be the Royal Engineer. Doing projects every day, people only giving you the time of day when they need you, running around like Pascal chasing after a fly. And I know I...probably haven’t helped much in that regard either. You’re the Royal Engineer because Rapunzel and I know you can handle it. But just because you can handle it on your own doesn’t mean you should have to.”

The more Eugene spoke the more Varian relaxed, shoveling more food into his mouth as he got more comfortable.

“Fankfs.” He said, his cheeks full like chipmunks, causing Eugene to laugh.

“No problem buddy. Anyways, like I was saying, I’m sorry I haven’t been around as much-”

“That’s not your fault.”

“No, but it is my fault for not trying harder. And for not realizing how tough things have been on you. So, here’s the plan, once a week from now on you’re getting a full twenty-four hours of off time. Maybe after a few of those and we’ll finally have you back on a decent sleeping schedule. Anyone who interrupts it gets thrown in the dungeon, my royal decree as Captain.”

“I don’t think Captains can make royal decrees.” Varian stated flatly, suppressing a smirk.

“Ok smart mouth, well they can now. You have the rest of the day off.”

There was a comfortable silence for a moment as Varian finished eating, setting aside the tray and closing his eyes. He leaned against Eugene’s shoulder, content and full and happy.

“Thanks Eugene.”

“Anytime kiddo. Team Awesome?”

Eugene extended his fist and Varian happily, if not a bit tiredly, pounded it with his own.

“Team Awesome. Now, since I have the rest of the day off…” In a split second Varian was falling back against his bed, rolling himself up in the blankets pillows, “I’m going back to sleep.”

Eugene laughed and playfully shoved his shoulder.

“Lazy bones. Well, have sweet dreams. Sugar plum fairies and all that.”

“Nah, I’m going to be dreaming of cute blonds who look like Flynn Rider and take me on daring adventures.”

That caused Eugene to laugh even louder.

“Wow, you really are such a teenager aren’t you? Well tell dream hotshot that if he wants your fantasy hand in marriage he’s going to have to get through me first.”

“And my dad.” Varian joked bluntly.

“Personally I think I’m the more important one to impress but, yeah, that guy too-” Suddenly a pillow hit Eugene’s face, muffling his chuckles, “Ok ok I get the message, I’m leaving, I’m leaving.”

“Eugene?”

“Yes sleeping beauty?”

“Thanks, I needed this.”

“Any time kiddo. Love ya.”

As Eugene closed the door, Varian closed his eyes, sinking down into his mattress and into a day of blissful sleep.

“Love you too.”

By the time Varian got the drowsy words out, Eugene was already gone, but it didn’t matter. He already knew.

#Eugene Fitzherbert #varian #team awesome #tangled the series #dadgene #zk fic #hope yall enjoy!!!!!!

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tastingmellow · 4 years

Note

A scandal with congress Chris Evans. The public thinks he cheating on his wife (poc) but him and his wife is just trying to keep things spicy between them so she cos plays a lot.

Ooooh, I don’t write for the actual people so I’m gonna use Steve, hope that’s alright! But I love this idea!

———————

Bucky’s nose flared at the article that was sent to his office. “What the fuck...” he grunted out while he stomped his way towards Steve’s office. Steve was currently looking over a bill that would make it easier for law enforcement to be prosecuted for a crime. Bucky knew Steve probably wanted as much peace as possible but this was some shit that needed to be addressed, immediately.

As Bucky neared Steve’s office he saw you coming into view. The quick clacking of your stilettos slowed as you came to a stop, noticing Bucky’s face being a little too bright red. “You alright there, Buck?” You ask, your hand coming to rest on his forehead. Bucky sighed and pulled you into a hug, tightly squeezing you.

Your eyebrows furrowed and you awkwardly patted his back as he released you. You were just as close to Bucky as Steve was. When you and Steve had met through college it had been through Bucky whom you’d met through a frat party when he collapsed on your shoulder on the couch and wouldn’t budge until morning. It wasn’t a stretch to say you were nearly as much as a best friend as Steve. Which is why he was so angry.

“Come with me, Y/N. You really need to hear this.” He spoke as he tugged open the large oak doors to Steve’s office. Just as you suspected, Steve sat in his chair looking over multiple documents while soft jazz played in the background. You followed Bucky inside, still very confused.

“Steve, is there something you want to tell your wife.” Bucky spoke, anger and tension evident in his posture. Your eyes flickered to Steve as he looked up at you. His eyes raked over your attire before meeting your eyes again. “Love the new dress, honey.” You smiled and walked over, kissing his cheek.

“Thank you, baby.” You giggles as he pulled you into his lap. You crossed your legs as Bucky huffed, adjusting his stance before slamming the magazine down in front of you and your husband. Your head tilted to the side as you picked up the article. In big, bold letters it read “Congressman Rogers Spotted with Mystery Woman Outside of Ritz Carlton.”

You blinked at the title, your eyes falling to said mystery woman. You squinted slightly before bursting out into laughter. You showed Steve the article and he laughed loudly. Bucky stared at the two of you, mouth agape.

“Oh, Bucky. Sit.” You said, still giggling at the article.

—————————

“Congressman Rogers! Would you care to comment on the recent photos of you spotted with a woman that’s clearly not your wife?” A reporter called out amongst the chaos of flashing cameras and others calling out his name. Steve glanced up while the crowd fell quiet. You stood off to the side, a smirk on your lips as you tried your hardest not to giggle.

Steve playfully glared at you before looking back to the reporter. “I would like to. Let the record show that I’ve never and will never step out of my marriage and cheat on my wife. I’m happily married to the love of my life, a wonderful woman who loves me as Steve. Not as Congressman Rogers. I will never disrespect her or our bond. She is everything I have ever wished for and more.”

Your eyes softened as you stared at the man in front of you. His hand slowly extended towards you and you stepped closer, wrapping your arms around his. He placed a gentle peck on your lips then your forehead before turning back to the crowd.

“If that is true Congressman, what explanation do you have for those photos?” Inquired another reporter.

“Congressman Rogers and I enjoy keeping things fresh in our marriage. We take risks and we try new things.” You spoke confidently as the crowd murmured.

“Mrs. Rogers, are you implying that you and your husband let others into your...bedroom?” A young man spoke out, tentative but blunt.

“No, I’m simply telling you that we try new things. Sometimes those things include giving into your fantasies and being someone else. However, please do not let that distract you from the crisis that is black people dying or being abused by those with a badge. Congressman Rogers and I have been working to bring justice to the most recent victims of police brutality while also shedding light on the police reform that needs to happen. Do not let gossip distract you from the true issue in this country. Racism and the abuse of power.” You smile to yourself as the crowd becomes restless, people throwing out questions and the flashing of cameras becoming more rapid. “I think my wife said it beautifully, this concludes our conference. Enjoy your evenings and thank you for your time.” Steve slowly ushered you down the steps of the podium and back into your home.

“I think that went rather well, don’t you?” You giggles to yourself while Steve pulled you closer to him. “I do, think that gave them enough. Probably gonna be all over Twitter before the day’s out.” Steve spoke and you chuckled as you made your way into your room.

——————

Sure enough, about 2 hours later “Congressman Rogers” was trending on Twitter. Clips of the press conference, specifically you addressing the pictures, spread like wildfire. You were on gossip websites within the hour, news outlets were covering it.

People were losing their minds over it.

“MinnieMarsh1: Not only did Y/N Rogers tell y’all she a freak, she told y’all to focus. No choice but to Stan. Iconic.”

“therogersstanaccount: Love how Rogers let his wife address the photos. Also, I told y’all they were ‘adventurous’.”

“queendom34: I bet money Y/N is the top. You can’t convince me otherwise.”

“smokingtree: She’s a woke freak and he’s standing with her to fight racism. The only political couple I fw.”

You glanced at the tv In front of you, chuckling at the clip of you speaking on you and your husband’s endeavors. Strong arms wrapped around your chest and you sighed, melting into him. “Well, looks like you started something serious.”

You giggled, biting your lip as Steve grabbed your chin, slowly turning your head before placing a gentle kiss on your lips. You sighed gently as his tongue slid over your bottom lip. Your lips parted, allowing him in as you deepened the kiss. Steve slowly pulled away as you bit your lip. “You’re a demon, I swear.”

You laughed at his comment. “Well, in that case...trying leather tonight?” Steve groaned, biting his lip as you stood from the couch, dragging him back to your shared room for a long, loud night.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x black!reader #Bold’s Fics

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kpopfanficsforthesoul · 4 years

Text

Choices- Yeri (Red Velvet) and Nayeon (Twice:) Part Two

PART ONE

Prompt: A newly turned wolf, you find your way into a supportive pack. Still learning the ropes, the alpha and beta’s daughters decide to befriend you. However, things get a little tricky when they both fall in love with you. How will it end? Only you can make the choice...

Genre: Romance/Drama, Werewolf!AU

Pairing: Yeri x Reader, Nayeon x Reader

Author’s Note: THE WAIT IS OVER! I’m so sorry this has taken me like eleven years to write... this is honestly such a good prompt and I love being creative with it! I hope you guys like this continuation!

One thing you didn’t know the beauty of before you became a wolf was the invigorating feeling of falling asleep staring at the infinite and majestic galaxy of shining stars in the night sky.

You woke up in a daze, the dark purple hues replaced with a light blue as the sun blinded your eyes. You squinted as you sat up, glancing over as you felt a pair of arms around your waist. A small smile crept its way onto your face as you glanced beside you to see Nayeon sleeping soundly, cuddled up closely to you. One thing you didn’t know before you got here was how cuddly wolves were.

“Nana, wake up.” you teased, ruffling her dark black locks. She slowly opened her eyes, smiling at the nickname you had given her.

“Did we fall asleep on the roof?” she giggled, sitting up.

“I believe so.” you replied, rubbing your eyes. “Thanks for talking with me.”

You and Nayeon had a deep and meaningful talk the prior night. You were sleepless for days after you had found out that Yeri was your mate, and she found you staring at the sky on the roof of her house.

You were a wreck, not being able to understand why the wolf inside you had chosen her. Not that Yeri was a bad option by any means. You were certainly captivated by her beauty, and enchanted by her maturity which demanded respect.

“Oh god, what time is it?” Nayeon exclaimed, frantically looking around for her phone.

“It’s 8:45...” you told her, looking down at your own phone.

“Oh my gosh!” Nayeon shouted, frantically standing up and jumping back through the window to her bedroom.

“Wait, what’s wrong?” you asked, slowing crawling though the same entrance.

“The pack starts running in fifteen minutes!” she exclaimed, pulling her dark curls up into a ponytail. “Get downstairs right now and eat all the healthy foods you can. I’m sorry, I was planning on making you a nutritious breakfast for your first run with the pack... gosh I’m such an idiot...” she cursed, frantically running around her room.

You decided to obey, not wanting to know what Nayeon was like when she was in a rush. You walked down the steps to the quaint little kitchen, grabbing some granola bars and peaches to eat. After sitting at the table for a little while, your friend’s feet came pounding down the staircase. She ran over to you, a hairbrush in her hand and several bobby pins between her teeth.

“What are you doing?” you asked as she yanked at your hair with the brush.

“Alpha Kim will introduce you to the pack today, you need to look decent!” she told you, brushing though several knots at once. “You’ll have to transform into your wolf for the first time and if you want your coat to look nice you’ll have to keep your human hair in check...” Once she finished grooming you, she came back around and took your half eaten granola bar away from you, taking a bite. “Go brush your teeth, your fangs should look nice and clean.”

You simply smiled and did as you were told, knowing her assertiveness was a sign of her care for you. You were very grateful to Nayeon for everything. For saving your life, for taking you in, and most of all for being your best friend. You didn’t know why, but she cared about you so much more than anyone else you had ever met. How could someone who barely knew you be this kind? Maybe she was just that selfless.

“Y/N come on! We can’t possibly be late!” Nayeon demanded, waiting for you to follow her out the front door.

“Stop... stop!” you pleaded, deeply panting as you slowly trotted over to a lone tree stump off the running trail. You were well behind the rest of the pack, not being able to keep up with their superhuman speed yet.

Nayeon slowed down, her dark eyes meeting yours as she turned around to come over to you. “I’m coming!” the fluffy white wolf declared as she trotted over to you.

Your own wolf had a thick black coat, which you had discovered after transforming with the pack. However you still had your glowing green eyes, which you received after meeting Yeri, your soulmate.

“I’m sorry Nana...” you huffed, catching your breath.

“It’s alright Y/N...” she told you, putting her white paw over yours. “But... since my mom isn’t here I’m expected to run with the pack to represent the Beta family.”

“You should go then...” you sighed, staring at the grass below you.

“I’m not leaving you here!” Nayeon insisted, looking into your eyes.

“Run along, Nayeon.” a calm and soothing voice demanded. You both turned around to see a blonde wolf with shimmering emerald green eyes. “I’ll walk with her.”

“Yeri...” Nayeon replied, looking at her with serious eyes. “Are you sure? Won’t your father be disappointed?” You gulped at realization of who this wolf was.

Yeri smirked, letting out a short chuckle before she began walking closer to the both of you. “Disappointed that I took the initiative to help our newest recuit? I don’t think that’s an issue. Besides, my four older sisters are there to represent us. You’re the only one who can represent your family. You need to run with them. Our pack is incomplete without a Beta member.” You and Yeri locked eyes for a short moment after she spoke.

“Thank you Yeri... I appreciate it.” Nayeon told her, looking into your eyes for a moment before trotting off.

The blonde wolf took her place in front of you, a small smile forming on her face. “You good?” she asked you with a smirk.

“Yeah, I’m fine...” you smiled, the pungent fumes of fresh roses choking your senses as she stepped closer to you. Yeri’s scent was intoxicating. With every second it convinced you she was your true soulmate, the loveliness clouding your judgement. “Thank you for coming for me.”

“No problem!” she chimed with a glimmer in her eye. “Wolves have very different endurances than humans. It’s often difficult for new recruits to adjust to it. Let’s just start jogging for a little bit, then we’ll kick up the speed.”

“What happens if we can’t catch up with the rest of the pack!” you asked, black fur flying back in the wind as you followed her.

“They’ll wait for us.” Yeri explained, eyes locked on the trail ahead of her. “Packs are built off of loyalty. No wolf ever gets left behind.”

“That’s a relief... sorry I’m so slow...” you sighed.

“Don’t worry about it!” Yeri chuckled, running a tiny bit faster. You pumped your legs faster to keep up. “You’re going to get stronger each day, Y/N. I can see the strength and determination inside you.”

There was an odd comfort in conversing with Yeri. It felt really good to hear her think so well of you. However you couldn’t ignore the fact that you both seemed to be avoiding the subject that had kept you up all night... that your wolves were pursing each other as mates. Regardless of the conflict inside you, you didn’t want to bring it up is she wasn’t going to. You two ran on for a good amount of time, picking up the speed slowly.

“Ah...” you gasped suddenly, feeling your chest tighten. Your legs instantly slowed down, your chest going in and out rapidly as your breath grew obnoxiously heavy.

“What’s wrong?” Yeri asked, looking over at you with concerned eyes.

“I just... need another break...” you pleaded.

“Okay, let’s go over by this tree...” she suggested, leading you off the trail.

You both stood in silence as you caught your breath, nothing but the sound of your panting filling the atmosphere between you.

“What am I doing...” you muttered, staring at the pavement.

“What do you mean?” Yeri asked, looking up at you. “We just ran for a pretty good distance, you should be proud of yourself!”

“No Yeri, I mean...” you began, gritting your teeth in frustration with yourself. “What am I doing here? I left my whole life behind to join this pack who’s shown me so much kindness... and I can’t even keep up with them!”

“Y/N...” she began, stepping closer to you. “Y/N, look at me.” Your bright green eyes locked in on each other as she continued. “You belong with us. You are not a burden! Now you are going to stay strong and finish this run because I know you can!”

A sudden determination filled your spirit which seemed to spill from the enchanting green tint of Yeri’s eyes which matched yours. Something about her trusting in you gave you so much strength as you darted off down the trail. The feeling of the wind through your fur as she ran beside you felt so invigorating and fufilling. For a good minute, it was just you two, side by side as the sun glimmered off your coats through the leaves of the tall woodland trees that towered above you. You both shared the same fresh morning air, footsteps and heartbeats matching each others as you ran on. Your instincts began to kick in as you felt yourself meeting a low level of that inhuman speed that came along with being a wolf, and you didn’t grow tired until you noticed Yeri slowing down.

“What’s up?” you asked, trotting backwards to meet her. “Why are we slowing down?”

“Because you reached the end of the trail!” she cheered, holding her arms out and as you both emerged from the forest, gesturing to the crowd of people in front of you. You realized that it was the pack in their human forms, erupting into applause and cheers with the alpha family in the center. You smiled at Yeri, the two of you transforming back into human form before walking up to everyone.

“You did it Y/N!” Nayeon cheered, running up to you and engulfing you in a hug.

“Congratulations Y/N, you’ve completed your first run with our pack.” Alpha Kim congratulated with a sincere and calm smile. “May you have many more with us.”

“Thank you Alpha...” you said, bowing your head slightly before him.

“Hey Y/N...” Yeri began, unintentionally pulling you away from Nayeon. “I want to talk to you about something.”

“What’s up?” you asked, following her away from the crowd as everyone began to walk back to their homes.

“I really enjoyed running with you today...” she began, brushing a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear as she gave you a small smile. “Do you want me to, I mean... would you like me to train you?”

“I’m sorry?” you asked furrowing your brows. “Train me in what?”

“I mean, wolf training.” she continued. “I could teach you how to use your wolf strength and speed to its fullest, and adjust your endurance. I could also teach you about wolf customs, and what it means to be in the pack.”

“Wow, that’s really kind of you!” you exclaimed. “I would like that a lot! But... why would you want to do that for me?”

“Well it’s a win win! You get to learn about the pack and... I get to get to know you better.” she told you with a small smile.

“Okay... when do we start?” you asked, a tiny blush forming on your cheeks.

“Tomorrow. My place. Noon.” she nodded, stepping a bit closer to you. She gave you a quick hug, stopping for a bit after she pulled away. “Do you smell vanilla?” she asked, wafting at the air before linking arms with her sister Joy and walking away.

As soon as she had gone, Nayeon instantly grabbed your hand, giving you a warm smile before leading you back to her house.

You breathed a sigh of relief as you entered the air conditioned alpha house. It was an unusually hot and humid fall morning when you and Yeri had went out for a run together. After running a decent distance, she invited you to the house to cool off before your history lessons began.

“I’m proud of you, I’ll get you some water.” she smiled, patting your shoulder as she walked past you to the fridge. You couldn’t ignore how healthy and toned her physique was. Her strong arms and soft abs were very visible, as she was wearing only a lime green sports bra and black yoga pants. Her long blonde hair was tied up off her neck in a cute top bun.

You were brought back to reality as she tossed a water bottle at your face. Suddenly, you heard a loud commotion as Yeri’s older sisters came in from outside. Usually the five ran together every morning, but Yeri had diverted to run with you, allowing the rest of the girls to run some pack errands.

“Hey Y/N!” Irene smiled as she waved to you.

You waved back, standing quietly by the fridge.

“So how did your run go?” Seulgi asked Yeri, hopping up on the counter and taking a bite of an apple.

“It was great, Y/N’s getting faster and stronger by the minute!” she told her, giving you a warm smile as she said so. You tried to ignore the blush creeping up your cheeks.

Wendy walked up to her youngest sister, taking her hair tie out and ruffling her blonde waves. “Y/N couldn’t have asked for a better teacher than our little green eyed maknae!

As Yeri swatted her sister away, you gulped as you almost choked on the water you were drinking. So Yeri’s eyes were green before you become soulmates? Maybe that’s why she wasn’t bringing up the fact.

“You alright Y/N?” she asked, looking over at you concerned.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just swallowed too soon...” you responded, coughing in between your words.

“Yah, since you did so well today, you two deserve a treat.” Joy suddenly said, plopping a large cake with vanilla buttercream frosting and red sprinkles in a glass container down on the counter. You and Yeri both scrambled over to it, gasping at the sugary goodness.

“Ooo, what kind is it?” you asked, taking the lid off.

“It’s Red Velvet.” Joy responded. “It’s our favorite. Mrs. Peterson gave it to us as a thank you for helping her with yard work.”

“You two go ahead and eat all of it, I can’t eat anymore cake!” Irene whined, walking into the living room and plopping down on the couch. “We get so many each day!”

“We’re the alpha daughters!” Yeri exclaimed, cutting out a piece for you. “This is supposed to be a perk.

“Well you two can eat it while you’re teaching Y/N about wolf stuff.” Seulgi retorted, flicking Yeri on the forehead before jumping off the counter. Wendy and Joy followed her into the living room to watch cartoons with Irene.

Yeri rolled her eyes before picking up the cake. “Sometimes I question if I really am the youngest one of these girls.” She looked at you before leading you up the stairs to her bedroom.

“Your bedroom is so nice!” you told her before sitting down on her large canopy bed with the softest silk sheets you had ever seen.

“Awh, thanks!” she said, sitting down next to you with a couple books in her hands. “Shall we get-” she stopped midsentence, leaning closer to you suddenly. She took took a deep whiff of the hair by your neck. “Hey, what perfume do you use? It smells amazing!”

“I’m not wearing any perfume...” you laughed, leaning back on your arms.

“Oh... how do you always smell so good? You have such a strong smell of warm vanilla... it’s intoxicating to me.” she giggled, flipping open the pages of her book. “Let’s start with origins of the werewolf...”

You bit the nail of your thumb, feeling anxious at the mention of your scent. Nayeon said that was one of the signals of soulmates. “Wait, Yeri...” you interrupted, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Can I ask you something first?”

“Sure, what’s up?” she asked in response, setting the book down on her lap.

“Why... did you want to start training me?”

“Well you’re the omega and I wanted to help you...”

“Yes, but I know omegas come in all the time. What makes me so special that you came for me in the woods on my first run?”

Yeri stopped, looking at the ground for a moment as she twirled her thumbs together. “Do you want me to be honest with you Y/N?”

“More than anything.” you told her, looking into her shimmering green eyes.

“When I was running at the front of the pack with my sisters, it was like... this is going to sound insane...” she put her head in her hands before tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and looking over at you, “it was like I felt something calling out to me in the back of the woods. Like... like something was wrong. I could sense your distress for some reason... which is crazy because that usually signals that we’re...” she stopped, looking at the ground again.

“That we’re what, Yeri?” you asked, putting your hand over hers and leaning in closer. She glanced over at you, squinting as she looked in your eyes.

“Y/N, what eye color were you born with?” she asked suddenly.

“Brown.” you responded briefly. Her eyes went wide as the realization hit her.

“So when you came to the pack your eyes turned green... I smell strong vanilla whenever I’m around you... and there’s a deep connection between us...” she began putting the pieces together before looking at you. “Are we soulmates Y/N?”

You nodded slowly. Yeri gasped before throwing her arms around you in a tight hug. You hugged her back, holding her tight.

“So like, what’s my scent?” she asked, pulling away and wiping her tears that threatened to spill a small tear.

“You smell like fresh roses, misted by a newborn rain.” you told her, smiling. “It happened the second I locked eyes with you. Our wolves chose each other.”

Yeri smiled before giving you another hug. You didn’t know where this was going, but you wanted to cherish every second you had with her. All you wanted to do was get closer to her.

“Incorrect!” Yeri exclaimed, hopping off the log you were both sitting on and pointing at you with a big grin on her face.

“What are you talking about?” you yelled back, kicking your feet in frustration. Yeri was quizzing you about wolf history in the woods. It had been about a week since you had both recognized that you were soulmates, and from then on you were with each other non stop. After all, your wolves were drawing you together.

It was the early stages of winter, autumn disappearing in an instant. A fresh layer of snow lay of the ground and the cool air nipped at your cheeks and nose.

“You got the question wrong! The first legends of werewolves originated from ancient Greece!” Yeri laughed, clapping her mitted hands together. “That means I win!”

“Ugh, come on Yeri!” you whined, throwing your head back in frustration. “Don’t make me do it!”

“I’m sorry Y/N, but you know what my prize is!”

You groaned, hopping off the log and turning your back to her. You clenched your fists, waiting for the impact. And then, the snowball hit the back of your head, knocking you off balance.

“Hey, that was too harsh!” you complained, facing her again.

“Oh yeah, what are you gonna do about it?” she teased, putting her hands on her hips.

“You’ll find out Kim Yerim!” you threatened. You shrieked a war cry before running towards her. She yelled running away from you. You suddenly transformed into your wolf to run faster. Yeri saw this as you caught up to her, instantly letting her blonde wolf take her place on the snow covered trail. You felt the cold air pumping through your lungs, and suddenly you jumped on top of Yeri, thowing her to the ground as you both began to wrestle each other. Giggles escaped both your lips as you pinned her to the ground.

“Say uncle!” you demanded, pushing her face into the snow.

“No, never!” she retaliated, squinting at your impact.

Suddenly, you heard someone clear their throat from behind you. You both glanced behind your shoulders to see Nayeon standing on the trail, arms crossed with a scowl on her usually cheerful face.

“Nayeon?” Yeri asked, pushing you off of her. “What are you doing here?”

“Is it a problem that I’m here?” Nayeon asked with a cold chuckle. “You two have been spending all week together...”

“What’s up Nana?” you asked her, transforming back into your human form. Yeri did the same as Nayeon softened at the mention of your nickname for her.

Nayeon walked up to you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you closer to her. “Sorry Yeri, but I’m taking her back now. After all, she is staying at my house.”

“I see.” Yeri muttered, looking at the ground as she brushed a blonde curl behind her ear. “How’s your family?”

“My sisters are home but I have yet to hear from my mother. Please tell the alpha and luna that I said hello.” Nayeon responded curtly. She gave a cold glance to Yeri before walking off down the trail with you.

“Bye Yeri!” you said, waving behind your shoulder at her as you were pulled away. She gave a short wave, saying nothing before walking back to her house in the opposite direction.

Nayeon held your hand as you both walked in silence to your house.

“Nayeon...” you said suddenly, looking over at her. “What was that about?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, all the coldness in her melting away now that you were alone. She squeezed your hand and gave you a warm smile before walking on. “I haven’t seen my Y/N in days. And my sisters are home, so I want you to meet them!”

“Alright...” you nodded, walking on and deciding not to argue. The truth was, you did feel bad for not spending time with Nayeon in a while. You cared about her so much, and had not forgotten all she had done for you.

After a short walk through the woods, you both arrived at the familiar two story house that belonged to Nayeon. To be honest, you didn’t even know that Nayeon had sisters, you just wondered why there were so many extra bedrooms upstairs. Maybe it was because you hadn’t been talking to her for the past week. You kicked yourself for neglecting the girl who had saved your life.

“Girls!” Nayeon cheered, cupping her hands around her mouth as she walked in through the front door. She laced her fingers with yours, sending a warmth through your body as she led you to the kitchen. There stood eight beautiful girls, some tall and some short, some with dark hair and some with light hair. All their eyes landed on you as Nayeon let go of your hand and gestured to you. “Sisters, I’d like you to meet Y/N!”

“It’s so nice to finally meet you Y/N!” one with long brown curls and the brightest eyes you had ever seen cheered as she walked up to you. “I’m Jihyo. Nayeon may be the oldest, but I’m definitely the strongest in our family!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever Jihyo...” another one with blonde hair and bangs scoffed as she hopped off the counter to greet you. She looked at you with her large dark eyes. “I’m Momo, the most skilled member.”

“Skilled doesn’t make you smart!” the girl with short black hair sneered with a slight smirk, lightly hitting Momo on the shoulder. “Y/N, I’m Mina. Don’t hesitate to come to me when all the other girls become annoying.”

“We are not annoying!” one with curly light brown hair cried, reaching into the cookie jar. “I can’t help it I’m the cutest one!” She cupped her hands around her face with a cute smile.

“Oh, give it a rest Sana!” the tallest one teased, putting her hands on her hips. “I’m the jewel of us all. ‘Tzuyu, the gorgeous maknae...’“ she smiled, immitating a news anchor.

“Oh my gosh, you and your big head...” another girl said, her arm wrapped around one girl’s waist, who gave an approving nod. “Chaeyoung and I work as a team. We know how to get things done for mom, unlike the rest of you who just sit in front of your vanities all day.”

“Hey Dahyun, you two wouldn’t get anything done without me, the charismatic one!” the last girl chuckled, who had short hair and a clear smile.

“Jeongyeon, can we please get back to welcoming our new member?” Nayeon pleaded, gesturing to you again. You had remained silent throughout all of this, smiling at their playful sibling rivalry.

“Oh, right...” Jihyo giggled, gesturing for the other seven girls to gather around you. “Welcome to the Beta family Y/N!”

“It’s an honor to meet all of you! I promise to contribute to all of the hard work we must accomplish.” you said, bowing to them with a slight smile.

“I’m sorry my younger sisters turned your greeting into an ego game...” Nayeon scoffed, glaring at the eight girls around her.

“So like, who’s she staying with? Do we finally get new roomates?” Sana exclaimed, looking up at Nayeon with a bright smile.

“I call Chaeyoung!” Dahyun demanded, the two wrapping their arms around each other.

“You can have her. I want someone who doesn’t snore. Mina?” Tzuyu asked, linking arms with her older sister.

“No!” Nayeon exclaimed, rolling her eyes. “We’re all staying in the same rooms we’ve had since birth. Jeongyeon with Momo, Sana with Jihyo, Mina with Dahyun, and Chaeyoung with Tzuyu. And since I’ve always had my own room, Y/N will be staying with me.”

All the girls groaned and whined, stomping their feet and scowling. They then all dispersed, walking around the kitchen in different paths as they were before, You giggled at all of them. Each looked a bit different, but you could tell they had the greatest sisterly bond in the world.

“So, why were the eight of you gone all at once?” you asked, leaning against the wall.

“Well, our mother is off on a mission right now. As Beta, it’s her job to negotiate with neighboring packs and as second in command, maintain order within the pack. She called us in for back up about two weeks ago, and Nayeon, being the oldest, volunteered to stay home with the pack to keep things in order.” Jihyo explained, examining the fridge. “Hey, I think we should make Y/N a Beta family welcoming dinner, what do you guys think?”

“That’s a great idea!” Momo cheered, hopping off the counter again. “Jihyo and I can make some noodles, while Sana and Mina make the salad...”

“Dahyun and I will make dessert!” Chaeyoung announced, walking over to the pantry.

“Tzuyu, you and I can make the side dishes!” Jeongyeon cheered, patting the maknae’s shoulder.

“And I will keep Y/N company while you all make dinner!” Nayeon cheered, leading you up the stairs to her bedroom.

“Wake up sleepy head!” a million different voices shouted at you in different pitches. You grumbled, opening your eyes to see the bright and cheery faces of eight girls over you.

“Well this isn’t how I thought I’d wake up.” you giggled, rubbing your eyes before putting your hands behind your head. You stretched, yawning a little bit. The girls all laughed at your sleepy antics.

Sana put her hands on your shoulders, giving you a light shake. “Y/N, come on it’s time for breakfast!”

“Yeah Y/N, you need to build up your strength for the big run today!” Mina told you, brushing a hair away from your face.

“Big run?” you asked, sitting up a bit.”What do you mean?”

“I thought we told you last night?” Chaeyoung said, scratching her head before glancing to Dahyun, who shrugged lightly.

“Oh no love, all I remember from last night is you all shoving one hundred different kinds of delicious foods down my throat.” you replied cheekily, making all eight girls giggle.

“Y/N, the pack is running all the way to the Emerald Forest today!” Jihyo exclaimed, putting her hand on yours. “We only go every quarter of a year since it’s such a long run.”

“Yeah so you better come with us and eat!” Tzuyu told you. “You have to try the cinnamon rolls I made! They’re the best thing on the table!”

“No way maknae, my egg tarts are to die for!” Momo retorted, slapping her sister on the arm.

“I think we all know that my maple brown sugar oatmeal is the best. It’s filling, and sweet.” Jeongyeon said cheekily, causing the girls to go into a riot about who made the best breakfast dish. All eight were yelling at each other, playfully hitting each other and pulling each other’s hair. You erupted into a deep laughter at all the commotion, your giggles floating over the quarreling.

A loud, high pitched whistle broke through the turmoil. Everyoen silenced, glancing behind them to the doorway. Nayeon stood with her arms crossed, impatiently tapping her foot and glaring at her younger sisters.

“I thought I told you all to get dressed, not to pester my sleeping Y/N!” she exclaimed, walking closer to the group. You bit your tongue, holding back from laughing at the scene that played out in front of you.

“Relax Nay, I got it under control!” Jihyo grumbled. “Sana-”

“I don’t care what you were all arguing about, just head downstairs and start filling your plates!” Nayeon demanded, pointing her finger to the door. The eight younger girls groaned, mumbling about how unfair their unni was. Tzuyu turned around before she walked out, blowing you a kiss before Nayeon ran over and pushed her out.

“I am so sorry about them...” Nayeon laughed, sitting on the edge of your bed.

“Awh don’t worry about it Nana, it’s nice to have people to talk to. They really are such nice girls.” you replied, sitting up in your bed. “How come you didn’t tell me there was a big run today?”

“I’m sorry, I forgot about it too. I seem to have a million things to think about with my sisters home. Not one of them knows how to do laundry properly, so I was doing laundry all night!”

You giggled, getting out of bed and walking over to the vanity to put your hair up. You patted on some lotion before walking into the closet to get dressed. “So maybe you can settle the argument for me. Who’s breakfast dish is the best?”

Nayeon chuckled, getting up form the bed. “I love anything those girls cook for me. However, I have to say, Tzuyu’s cinnamon rolls are amazing.”

“I can’t wait to try them!” you exclaimed, spritzing some perfume before emerging from the closet. Nayeon’s back was to you as she was putting on her shoes.

“Just don’t tell her how good they are. That girl doesn’t need a bigger hea-” Nayeon stopped mid-sentence, mouth dropping open as she looked at you. You were wearing a breezy mint green floral dress with a pastel pink silk scarf and some two toned flats. You blushed a bit before addressing her.

“What, too loud?” you asked, snickering a bit at her shock.

“Nothing, it’s just...” she blinked in disbeleif, shaking her head. She walked closer to you, taking you hand in hers and rubbing her thumb on the back of it. “You’re so beautiful.”

You smiled for a moment, feeling a dig in the pit of your chest. Everything felt serene when you were with Nayeon. She was like your rock. She made everything feel calm and peaceful.

You came back to reality, shifting your weight towards the door. “Come on Nana, let’s go eat.” you uttered softly, tugging her hand. She caught up with you, ruffling your hair as you both ran down the stairs.

“Woah Y/N, our Yeri must be a pretty tough trainer!” Irene commented, running slightly behind you, her wolf’s red fur flying back in the wind.

“Someone’s getting super fast!” Seulgi joined in She ran next to her oldest sister, her wolf being a light caramel brown just like her hair.

You had to admit, you had been picking up a lat of speed very quickly. When Yeri was your running partner, all you ever wanted to do was train. In fact, she was running right next to you right now.

“Don’t give me the credit unni, Y/N is a fast and disciplined runner.” The blonde wolf responded, giving you a smile. Your heart warmed at Yeri complimenting you. For a second, you thought you heard someone groan behind you, but when you glanced back, you only saw Nayeon and three of her white furred sisters.

The pack halted at a beautiful silver river in the middle of the Emerald Forest. The air was crisp and fresh, and a glittering sheet of pearly white snow crunched under everyone’s paws.

“Everybody drink up!” Alpha Kim declared, his grey coat glistening in the sun. “We’ll take a half hour break to enjoy the forest before running home!”

You trotted over to your new Beta family of nine snow white wolves. Your own black coat stuck out from the rest of them. Nayeon gave you a smile before nodding toward the river. “Y/N, the water here the freshest you’ll ever taste!”

You leaned down, slurping up the icy cold water. It was refreshing as it dripped down into your tummy. The river was cold, but not yet frozen over by winter.

As your lungs readjusted, you looked over to the other side of the river, locking eyes with your green eyes soulmate. The blonde wolf noticed, smiling at you and winking. It was crazy, but you could smell her rosy scent again, even all the way across the river.

“Rival wolves!” someone shrieked, interrupting your thoughts. Everyone in your pack glanced up to the top of the hill, seeing fifty dark wolves running towards your pack. Fear struck in your heart as you glanced at Nayeon in desperation.

“Everyone, prepare to attack!” Alpha Kim shouted, starting a howl that all the wolves replicated.

“Y/N, stay in the middle!” Nayeon demanded, leading her sisters into a protective circle around you. All nine girls took a fight stance, prepared to defend you who didn’t know how to fight yet.

Your first thoughts went to Yeri. You made panicked glances around at all the wolves fighting. You finally found your blonde mate, who was currently fighting off two wolves. You took comfort in the fact that she was the strongest of all her sisters as both wolves cowered to her.

Nayeon glanced back to you. “Y/N, stay sharp!” she demanded. “We’ll protect you.”

You looked back over to Yeri after nodding to Nayeon. Yeri was helping her sister Joy, who was kneeling and examining her bloody paw. The redness seeped into the pure white snow.

A giant, burly, menacing black wolf was creeping up behind Yeri. Neither her or her sister seemed to notice, only focusing on Joy’s wounded paw. As you caught the eye of this menacing wolf, you noticed that it was the same pair of glowing yellow eyes that met yours the night you were turned into a wolf.”

“Choi Joomin!” you exclaimed, remembering Nayeon’s words about him being a well known assassin from a rival pack. Without another thought, you sprung out of the circle formed around you, sprinting towards the scene.”

“Y/N NO!” Nayeon cried in desperation behind you.

Nothing else was in your mind other than protecting Yeri. You quickly leapt in front of her, meeting of the eyes of your former attacker, who was mid-pounce. When the blow hit you, everything went black.

Author’s Note: OH MY GOSH! I finally wrote the second part to this story!!! I am SOOOOOO sorry it took me this long! You guys deserved this long ago. I’m eternally grateful for your patience. Thank yous so much if you came back to read this. Thanks to quarantine, I’ll have plenty of time to HOPEFULLY finish this story. I love you all, stay safe.

All my love,

Marie <3

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monkeysatemylastrolo · 6 years

Text

Safehouse

So I actually wrote this after Patience (13.03) first aired (hence the reference to Cas still being dead), then dug it up again today and decided to post it. The basis? Well, basically, I just wanted Jack (and Sam) to get as far away from Dean as possible, before Jack ended up with any more psychological damage from Dean’s threats etc. And so this was born. Hope you like it!

---

Sam was already packed, Jack waiting in a car in the garage (an old ’58 Cadillac which Sam hoped wouldn’t stand out too much) before he told Dean outright.

Dean just stared at him in complete incomprehension, dismantled gun spread out across the table in front of him, the bore brush he had gripped loosely in his hand ignored (or perhaps forgotten completely) in lieu of this new conversation.

“What the hell are you on about ‘you’re leaving’?”

Sam forced himself to straighten up and keep his gaze steady. “Exactly what I said. You can’t be around Jack right now, Dean, and it’s not good. For any of us. I’ve been trying to-” He cut himself off, all his carefully thought out reasonings suddenly seeming useless under the weight of Dean’s betrayed stare. But this had to be done. He couldn’t back out now. Not when so much was at stake. (He tried not to remember the last time he’d made a similar (but oh so different) decision. Tried not to remember the repeated accusations of ‘you chose a demon over your own brother.’ Tried not to imagine the similar accusations which would likely come this time if things didn’t go as hoped.) He needed to do this. Needed to make Dean understand.

“Cas is gone, Dean,” he explained, the loss curling in his stomach mirrored in the widening of his brother’s eyes and in the clenching of his hand. The bore brush tilted slightly with the shift in pressure. “Cas is gone, and we’re the next best thing that Jack has. We’re supposed to step in here and do what’s right- raise him the way Cas would’ve wanted to. Help him to work out that he can be good. You going on about how he’s evil-”

“He is evil, Sam, and if you weren’t so-”

“You going on about how he’s evil,” Sam repeated more forcefully, his palms tingling in his effort to appear unfazed, “is doing the exact opposite. You’re piling your own issues onto him, and it’s making him miserable. You’re driving him away. And that just makes him that much more susceptible to manipulation- we’ve already seen that with Asmodeus. I won’t let history repeat itself. Not this time. Not with him. He doesn’t deserve it.”

Without giving Dean time to try to convince him otherwise (and trying also not to let his mind linger on the question of whether he, himself had truly deserved the same treatment), Sam turned in the doorway, only glancing back over his shoulder because there was one last thing Dean needed to know.

“When you’ve figured that out for yourself, Dean, call me. We’ll come back when- if- Jack can feel safe around you.”

Jack still wasn’t entirely certain why, exactly, Sam was taking him away. Sam had talked to him about it, of course- explained about safe environments and negative influences and what was and wasn’t acceptable for him to have to endure, but honestly he wasn’t sure why Sam seemed to think Jack, of all people, was worth it. Especially when it meant he would be moving away from the brother he obviously cared about so much. It just didn’t make sense.

A sudden ray of light caught his eye, and Jack turned his head, watching as Sam entered the garage and made his way over, sliding quickly into the driver’s seat and pretty much instantly starting the engine. It was a little strange, seeing Sam instead of Dean behind the wheel, but stranger still was the blank, almost unnaturally still expression on what had, up until now, been the most expressive face he had yet encountered. The sight of it had something in Jack’s chest seizing- similar to the clench of fear he got whenever he was afraid something he’d done had proven Dean right, but this time without the actual fear included (and, somehow, much closer to physical pain because of it).

The door opened again when they were already half-way across the room, the dark shadows on Dean’s face made that much more ominous by the blackness which stretched out from his feet, twisting its way across the room and trying to entangle itself around their car. Sam kept his eyes fixed firmly ahead, though, the tightening of his fingers against the steering wheel the only sign that he’d even noticed, which meant that Jack was the only one privy to the shifting emotions which shifted across Dean’s features as they drove away- the mix of anger and fear turning into something closer to determined fury and accusation as, for just a second, his eyes met Jack’s own.

For the first time, Jack wondered whether them leaving only confirmed what Dean had always been so vocal about knowing.

After all, only a true monster would break apart family, right?

They were outside before he could find a way to share his thoughts, but even if that weren’t the case Jack didn’t think he’d have been able to do so anyway- a single glance at the sheen of moisture in Sam’s eyes enough to silence even the most rebellious of protestations.

Conversation in the car was limited, neither inhabitant making much of any effort at all to really start any talks of substance, so Jack had plenty of time to think during the journey, even after he’d gained Sam’s permission to read some of the well-thumbed novels he discovered during a rest stop that the Hunter had packed and had become distracted by the stories contained on the pages within. When they finally stopped for good, though, three days and several hundred miles away from the Bunker, outside a single, ramshackle cabin in the middle of nowhere, he still didn’t have any real answers.

“Where are we?”

“Montana,” Sam answered, gazing at the building with an indecipherable expression. “One of the Campbell properties, so Dean doesn’t know about it. The Campbells were our mom’s family,” he clarified, no doubt anticipating the question on Jack’s lips. “All gone now, though…

“Sorry it took us so long to get here, Jack. I needed to make sure Dean couldn’t pick up the trail.”

Pulling their bags from the trunk, Sam passed them to Jack to hold as he unfolded a large sheet of plastic and tucked it over the car, before taking his own bag back and leading the way inside. The room within, once enough light had filtered in for Jack to be able to truly see it, turned out to be smaller than most of the rooms they had left behind, but still somehow larger than he had expected. Books stood in haphazard piles which crowded shelves and cupboards along every wall and in every corner, the symbols and lettering which decorated their spines reminiscent of some similar tomes he had seen in the Bunker’s library, while a single threadbare couch sat in the centre of it all, half-covering a dusty rug so faded only the basic variations in colour were visible.

“Those two rooms there have beds in them,” Sam gestured to the right, neither of them yet moving from their spot by the entrance. “There’s a kitchen through there-” the westernmost door opposite them, half-hidden behind a protruding bookcase- “and the one next to it is the bathroom. There should still be towels and soap and stuff in the cupboard under the sink in there, but I brought some extra stuff with us just in case.” Turning a sad smile Jack’s way, he twitched a single finger towards said bathroom and held out a bag Jack assumed held the extra stuff Sam had mentioned. “You should freshen up first. We can talk about what comes next once both of us have had a decent night’s sleep, yeah?”

Jack studied him for a moment, wondering how it was possible for someone to appear anxious, hopeful, sad and still so gentle all at the same time. Reaching out a single hand, he took the proffered bag with a half-smile of his own. “I think I’d like that.”

When he emerged eight minutes and twenty-three seconds later, his hair still concealed under the towel he wore draped over his head to shield his nightclothes, Sam was on the couch, sitting in the glow of a small lamp Jack hadn’t noticed before and appearing much calmer as he typed something onto his laptop. He looked up when Jack stepped forward, though, speaking softly a few seconds later.

“You done?” He smiled at Jack’s nod. “Alright. I’m gonna shower too, then. You figure out which room you want and try to settle in a bit, and I’ll sort something out for us to eat when I get out.” Then, after setting the laptop down in the centre of the couch, he withdrew his own nightclothes from the bag by his feet and made his way into the bathroom, placing an uncertain hand on Jack’s shoulder as he passed. “Hey, don’t look so anxious, okay? We got this. I promise.”

The bedroom farthest from the building’s entrance was smaller, but it had an uncomplicated air to it which appealed to Jack somehow so, hoping that Sam wouldn’t find it presumptive of him, he set his bag on the bed in there before making his way back into the main room and perching on the final couch cushion, waiting. By the time Sam emerged seven and a half minutes later, he was already re-immersed in the world of Harry Potter’s second year at Hogwarts, but he looked up anyway when he sensed the older man’s pause.

“Gilderoy Lockhart is a very strange person.”

“Yes he is. How does Minestrone soup sound for dinner? Only canned stuff for now, though- we’ll have to go shopping soon if we want anything fresh.”

“Is Minestrone soup good?”

Sam just shrugged. “I like it. You might not. But we can always find you a different flavour if it’s not your thing.”

“You won’t be angry? Dean would probably be angry.”

Something dark and sorrowful, yet also tinted with wistful yearning, descended upon Sam’s face. “Jack, just because Dean was angry about things, that doesn’t mean he was right about them.” Features softening into the gentle half-smile he wore so often when trying to sooth Jack’s fears, Sam tilted his head a fraction of an inch. “You’re allowed to not like stuff. It doesn’t make you bad.”

In the face of such honest, straightforward kindness, Jack felt only one answer was truly appropriate. “Then I would be happy to try Minestrone Soup.” Perhaps he would enjoy it as much as he had the nougat Clark had introduced him to.

He doubted it, though. He had tried several foods since he was born. None of them had compared to nougat.

(Part two)

#Safehouse #SPN #SPN fanfic #My fic #Sam Winchester #Sam is the best dad #Jack Kline #Jack is an innocent puppy #Doubting Dean

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pebble-xo · 7 years

Text

The Secret (4)

prologue; part one; part two; part three; part four; part five; part six; part seven; part eight; part nine; part ten; part eleven; part twelve; part thirteen; epilogue.

“Can I please go to the concert Mummy?” Zoe asked sleepily, curling up in her bed surrounded by her favourite teddies. All evening she had been pestering you for an answer, promising to be a good girl and eat her vegetables if she was allowed to go. You could see it in the twinkle in her eyes how much she really wanted to go.

But something didn’t feel right for you.

You dimmed her nightlight and bent down to pressed your lips to her forehead, pulling the blankets up to her chin. “We will talk about it in the morning,” you told her, smoothing her hair back and offering her a warm smile before tiptoeing to the door. “Sweet dreams little one,” you murmured softly by the door, watching her reach for Mr Snuggles.

“Night night Mummy,” she replied, waving Mr Snuggles fluffy paw in your direction.

Slowly you closed the door and then rested your forehead against the cool wood. Having to constantly deal with Zoe’s pleading had been more draining than you would have thought. Even when you weren’t in the room, it was all she would talk about. You could hear her in her bedroom, talking to Mr Snuggles before she fell asleep.

“I really hope Mummy lets me go to the concert,” you heard her say through the door.

Your phone suddenly buzzed in your pocket so you decided to live Zoe and Mr Snuggles to their conversation and headed into the living room where the news was on mute. It was a text from Baekhyun, the very reason you were having an issue with Zoe going to the concert in the first place.

“Are you free for a chat?”

Curling up on the sofa, you sent back a simple ‘yes’ and stared blankly at the TV screen while they reported on the stock market.

You had wanted your move to Seoul to be a fresh start for you and Zoe but all it had done so far was dredge up the past. It felt as if you were balancing on thin ice that was unknowingly cracking beneath you.

Like lightning, your phone buzzed violently, almost vibrating off the sofa before you saved it and balanced it on your ear. “What’s up?” you answered quietly, feeling the day catch up with you and leave you tired.

“Nothing much, just taking a break from rehearsals and I missed your voice,” he replied, sending a jolt to your heart with his voice. How can he say something like that so casually? He left you practically swooning.

Giggling into your hair, you felt the blush burn your cheeks and still felt the need to hide your face. “We had lunch together earlier this afternoon,” you countered, licking your lips as you remembered your lunch ‘date’ in Baekhyun’s car.

“It was barely an hour,” he whined cutely, making your heart clench. He used to whine like that when you would choose studying over sex with him … and look how that turned out. “Besides all you did was listen to me moan about rehearsals. I wanted to hear about what kept you busy when I moved away,” he added.

Your daughter kept me busy, you thought to yourself, feeling the same pang of guilt you felt when you thought of Zoe whilst talking to Baekhyun.

“I didn’t mind listening to you moan,” you exclaimed, hoping to pull the attention away from you and what happened in the 5 years of no contact. “Clearly you needed to vent about all that stress. Are rehearsals going well so far?” you asked quietly.

You heard him sigh loudly down the phone. He sounded just as tired as you did. “So far so good,” he commented quietly. “At the end of the week, we’re having our first run-through in the stadium. It’s absolutely massive.” As tired as he was, he sounded genuinely excited about the concert, no matter how draining it was for him.

His mention of the stadium sparked your interest. “How many people will be at the concert?” you asked, hoping to sound nonchalant.

“I think the stadium’s capacity is 15000 and we’ve sold out. It’s insane, there’s going to be so many fans there,” he exclaimed enthusiastically, probably grinning from ear to ear at the thought of his fans filling up the stadium.

That was one thing definitely different about Baekhyun: he had such love for his fans and always spoke of them fondly like he knew them all on a personal level. But you couldn’t pretend to understand it. It was something that separated you and Baekhyun and left you in your own realities. He had thousands … millions looking up to him and counting on him whereas you just had Zoe – two very different sides of the same coin.

Knowing the likelihood that Zoe would be lost amongst the thousands of screaming fans, you started to warm to the idea of her going to the concert. Long after Baekhyun hung up to go back to rehearsals, you stayed up, weighing up the unlikely worst case scenario of Baekhyun spotting Zoe in the giant crowd and by some cosmic miracle knowing she was his daughter, versus the simple fact that your daughter would be so happy to go.

In the morning, you met Elle’s mother outside the school gates. As the head of the advertising agency Baekhyun’s company were using, she had managed to secure only three tickets: one for her, one for Elle and one for Zoe, which meant you wouldn’t be taking Zoe. You wouldn’t be there to draw Baekhyun’s attention to his daughter.

And that sealed the decision … Zoe was going to her first concert.

###

From the minute you told Zoe she could go, EXO had slowly taken over your lives. When you weren’t in the car with the CD blasting so Zoe could sing happily from the backseat, you were watching them on the TV so Zoe could learn the dances. And when Elle came over to play, you tended to just avoid your daughter’s bedroom completely.

However, as the weeks quickly counted down to the concert, you heard less and less from Baekhyun. He still managed to send you a couple of texts each day if he had the time between run-throughs but usually he was rehearsing or sleeping. You understood how exhausted he was but you missed talking to him on a daily basis. It felt like you only just got your best friend back.

But at the end of the day, he was EXO’s Baekhyun first and that’s why he could never know about Zoe, because he couldn’t put her first like she deserved.

###

“You want me to take the girls to the concert?” you cried down the phone, spitting your tea out all over the kitchen counter.

It was Thursday, two days before the concert, and you were just about to leave to take Zoe to school when Elle’s father had called out of the blue. Apparently Elle’s mother had been rushed to hospital to have her appendix removed in an emergency operation late last night and wouldn’t be able to take the girls this Saturday.

“I know it’s all of a sudden but I’m giving an important presentation that day and the concert is all Elle’s been able to talk about so we’d hate to let the girls down,” Elle’s father explained, while you mopped up the spilt tea.

You were convinced the universe was out to get you, constantly throwing curve balls that pulled you and Baekhyun closer and making it more likely for him to find out the truth. The concert was the one thing you had hoped to avoid and you especially didn’t want to take Zoe. At the same time, you didn’t want to be the reason her little heart was broken. This concert meant so much to her – the first major memory she was going to make with her best friend.

Besides, how likely was it really that you’d cross paths with Baekhyun? He’d probably be too busy focused on his performance.

“If I say no, I doubt either of us will hear the end of it,” you joked lightly, running your hand through your hair. You couldn’t believe you were agreeing to this. “I’ll pick Elle and the tickets up Saturday morning,” you added, wishing Elle’s mother a successful surgery before hanging up.

Zoe ran through the kitchen, her hair already falling out of the ponytail. “Mummy, I brushed my teeth,” she declared proudly with a big smile on her face.

“Well done little one,” you told her, pulling the ponytail out to let her hair fall loose around her face. She looked prettier with her hair down – more like you. “Can you put your lunchbox in your school bag and then look out the window to see if you need a coat today?”

With a quick nod, she sprinted out of the room, shouting that it looked like it was going to rain.

Leaning back against the counter, you sighed loudly and gulped half of your tea down in one gulp, wishing it was something a lot stronger. You were definitely opening a bottle of wine this evening.

###

Saturday morning came along quickly and you didn’t have a spare second to think about Baekhyun and what would happen if he spotted you, too busy trying to contain two very excitable five year olds. You arrived a little early to the stadium, after taking the girls out for a late lunch, but there was so many fans outside already, selling merchandise and fan goods. After a lot of pleading and puppy dog eyes from Zoe and Elle, and then a lot of queueing, you bought lightsticks for all three of you, seeing as everyone was walking around with one.

Then Zoe spotted a stall selling fans with Kai’s face on and quickly you were being dragged into another queue. However, the smile on your daughter’s face when the fan was handed to her warmed your heart and made it completely worth it. You did the same for Elle too, getting her a fan with Suho’s face on.

“Mummy, you need a fan too,” Zoe exclaimed, with Elle chiming in agreeance.

“But Mummy doesn’t have a favourite member,” you replied, laughing a little as their face screwed up in concentration while they tried to think of a member for you.

Then Elle looked up at you with a beaming smile. “I think you should get a Baekhyun fan,” she declared brightly, and Zoe seemed to agree. Neither of them noticed your face drop, too busy trying to drag you to someone selling Baekhyun goods.

“Yes, he’s perfect for you Mummy. He could be your boyfriend,” Zoe continued, ignorant to how close to the truth she actually was.

Before they could pull you further, you noticed crowds starting to pour into the stadium. “Look girls, it’s time to go in. We need to go and find our seats,” you cheered loudly, completely distracting them and allowing them to pull you towards the gate you were supposed to enter through.

Inside the stadium, you found your seats and looked out at the stage in front of you. Your seats were in the raised seating that went right around the stadium, in the front row right in the middle looking out at the centre of the stage. You took a picture of the girls in front of the stage and sent it to Elle’s mum saying thank you. The seats were amazing and hopefully you were back far enough for Baekhyun not to spot you.

While you waited for the stadium to fill up with fans, you helped the girls work their lightsticks and synced them up to your phone so they would change colour along with everyone else’s. As you were syncing up your own, your phone started to ring. It was Baekhyun.

Quickly digging in your bag, you gave Zoe and Elle a bag of sweets to share and then pulled your hood of your coat up to hide the noise of the stadium from Baekhyun as you answered. “Hello stranger,” you said brightly, excited to hear his voice after so long.

“I’m sorry,” he immediately started, his soft voice giving you jitters in your stomach. “Things have been so crazy, especially now that the concert series has started.”

“It’s fine,” you replied casually. The Baekhyun you grew up with wouldn’t go a day without contacting you, even if you’d had an argument the day before, but this Baekhyun was different, busy being an idol in a world that couldn’t fit you.

“I just needed to hear your voice before I went on stage,” he admitted quietly, leaving you smiling into the collar of your coat like you were a teenager again.

“Have you got your fix yet?” you joked, speaking the words slowly.

He sighed loudly down the phone. “Never,” he breathed and you wondered if you had imagined him saying it at all.

“You should probably go. Isn’t your concert starting soon?” you murmured quietly, looking out at the stadium that was filled to the brim with fans waiting for EXO.

In the background, you heard someone call out that it was 10 minutes until show time. “I’ll text you after the concert,” he promised.

“Try not to trip and fall,” you told him with a laugh, wishing him good luck with the same phrase you used when he would perform in his school band. And with his laughter running through your head, he hung up, completely unaware that you’d be seeing him very soon.

###

The girls were absolutely loving the concert, bouncing around with their noise-safety headphones without a care in the world. Seeing how happy Zoe was, how excited she was to be at her first concert with her first best friend: it made you forget all the worry and stress leading up the concert and just enjoy the moment. Your daughter had a beaming smile glued to her face and it made you unbelievably happy to see.

It was amazing watching Baekhyun on the stage too. He was the same loud excitable puppy you knew him to be and it was obvious to see he was where he was supposed to be, doing what he loved. His singing was breath-takingly beautiful as always and it seemed like he’d taken a few dance lessons in the past five years too. You always knew he belonged on the stage performing but actually seeing him do it to thousands of fans all screaming his name – he really was incredible.

During the concert, all the members of EXO broke choreography and started running around the stage, greeting their fans with smiling faces while singing. Zoe instantly launched herself towards the railings, waving her fan around when Kai came near. He gave a little wave in your daughter’s direction and left her screaming louder than before … if that was possible.

Elle was the same when Suho walked past, waving her fan around to grab his attention. He spotted her waving and came as close to the railings as he could, waving to her and blowing a little kiss. Thankfully you had your phone on hand so you could take a picture of the adorable moment.

After quickly sending the picture to Elle’s mother, you looked up from your phone and your eyes met very familiar ones staring at you in wonder. “Baekhyun,” you breathed silently, quickly lifting your lightstick to cover your face.

His face scrunched in a quick scowl but it brightened up like a burning star and his smile was the only thing you could see. “Later,” his lips moved and then he went back to waving to fans, acting as if nothing had happened.

“Ah shit!”

[masterlist]

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