#apparently I am the scum of the earth because of my tone of voice...... sigh...... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

monst · 4 years

Text

Forgiveness and Redemption

A Bnharem Collab

Endeavor: Enji Todoroki x Reader

Warnings: Harsh sexy time actions, Angst, Hard Femdom, Impact play, power play degradation, sounding, spanking, masochism, Sadism, horrible coping methods? All in all it’s fucked up. Enji tryna basically punish himself type of thing….And I apologize in advance for the copious use of the word deserve.. You have been warned.

(Main post -> Is Here!) Concept stuck in quarintine so tryning out new kink/s. And I think that’s everything so let's get it!

Being a hero. The number one hero to be exact Enji Todoroki was exempt from quarantine, he was after all a very essential employee in the Japanese government. Granted he wasn’t obligated to patrol the streets, he had the option to self-quarantine for his own health and protection.

However, after spending a couple of days in self-quarantine with his family he wanted out. His eldest son Natsuo had been ‘evicted’ from his home due to contamination on his block and he had no choice but to stay in the family house. Now Enji did care for his family, sadly he had a funny way of showing it but it was still there..

He should have known that strife was bound to happen. In fact he did know and he believed himself to be prepared for his son’s blade-like tongue. And, even the thickest of skins couldn’t stop words from cutting into your skin and settling into your bones. Natsuo had made his distaste apparent throughout the whole ordeal whereas Shouto had only treated him with indifference, while making sure Rei never came in contact with him.

He was foolish to believe that in this time he could make amends. It was too soon the wounds were too fresh and still healing. And some would never heal and they’d remain open and continue to fester. Fuyumi tried her best to keep the peace and Enji was grateful for that but the words had already been said and they had penetrated his muscular chest and seeped into his bleeding heart.

He didn’t make a sound the following morning and as he laced his boots he couldn’t help but recall something he had heard in his prepubescent years ‘Sticks and stones may break my bone but words will never hurt me.’ He couldn’t help but think it was a lie. Nothing had hurt more than what Natsuo had said to him during dinner. And as he walked out of the door decked out in his hero costume he knew that it would plague his mind for days to come.

“There’s really no need for you to be out here old timer.” He ignored the snide remark from a fresh-faced newbie. “Hey, I’m talking to ya! Go home Endeavor. We don’t need ya out here.”

He sent the hero a half-hearted glare. He knew that he was right. There was no one out Hell, even the villains seemed to be holed up in whatever crevices they dwelled in. There were just a few people going to work, to the grocery store, the pharmacy and the hospital.

“Oi don’t talk to him like that!? Do you know who he is!?” Another hero quipped.

“Tsk Yeah? Do you? The things this guy’s done.” He spat “Makes me fucking sick.”

“He’s a hero you dipshit he has been saving people for years! You're just mad that he’s actually popular.” The other defended. “What rank are you huh? You meddle in the thousands?”

He was just standing there.. Watching as people jumped in to curse him and others came to his defense. ‘He’s trying to redeem himself!’ ‘It’s too late for that’ ‘He hasn’t done anything wrong!’ ‘Do you not read the news?!’ ‘Those are rumors’ ‘He’s a hero!’ ‘He’s no better than a villain’ ‘He saved my life!’ ‘And mines!’ ‘So we’re just going to ignore what he’s done?’ ‘He’s so cool’ ‘He’s hot’ ‘I’m his biggest fan!’ ‘I hate him’

His head spun. Where had all these people come from? What on earth were they arguing about? What were they saying? Fuck he had never been so unsure in his whole life… “What.. What am I..” he mumbled to himself. His moving lips caught the crowd's attention.

“Speak up, what was that?!” Someone called out.

“I said go home! There are too many of you gathered here! We are trying to enforce social-distancing! And this ridiculous argument isn’t worth your health!” He roared. He ignored every comment of gratitude, every sneer or quip. He really wasn’t himself that day. Hell he didn’t even know who he was anymore. He had stopped knowing the day All Might had resigned.

He had made the strong blonde his life’s purpose and blinded himself to everything else and now there was just a hollow feeling in his chest. An ache and a pain not physical. He wondered if he would have ever realized these things if All Might were to still be number one… Frustrated. Frustration filled his being. He wanted to tear his hair out! He wanted to scream! To cry! To lash out to SOMETHING!

He wanted these feelings gone. Even if it were just for a moment… Maybe that’s why his feet dragged him to the only person who could accomplish that. In a physical sense at the very least….

He stood outside the wooden door contemplating on whether he should knock. But he quickly grasped his knuckles against the male before he could punk out. He heard you on the other side sliding all the locks out of place.

“Enji?” You yawned. “What are you doing here?”

His silence spoke volumes. You only had to glance up at his face to see the color blossoming at the apples of his cheeks and you instantly knew why he was there. He averted his eyes as you let him in. You sighed and looked up at him while pinching the bridge of your nose.

“You can’t keep doing this.” You huffed motioning him to the couch. When the soft cushioning dipped under his weight and he was finally eye level with you he bowed his head.

“I know.” Weak. Whoever would have heard him speak would have been in shock at the tone.

“You're not even supposed to be here, we're in quarantine.” You chided, crossing your arms under your chest.

“Please, I just need to… I just..” His voice shook and you once again heaved out a sigh.

“Fine. But this is the last time. You can’t keep using me like this, you need to get actual help, not a distraction.” You reprimanded. “Well? Get up you know where to go, I’m going to go get changed and your ass better me naked and spread when I get in there.” You ordered.

He replied with a nod and when you glared at him he piped up “Yes, Mistress.” And so while you went to change out of your sleep clothes he walked down the corridor and unlocked your ‘special room’. When he walked in he saw the usual setting. Low lights, different contraptions, an arsenal of whips, rope and chains. Your ‘dungeon’.

He worked at his clothes briefly recalling the first time he had purchased your services. He scoffed at the thought. ‘A dominatrix?’ He topped, he was in charge, He… never knew how much he needed this.. How much he needed a place to drop all pretenses and submit himself. It felt good. And he kept on coming to you. However, you had quit the business in favor of doing something else with your life.

He was disappointed at first as he was quite taken to his mistress. He loved venting to you, he loved kneeling before you as you stepped down on his head, it made him feel as though that were his real place. On the ground like a worm. No on the ground like a broken man. A man who needed to atone.. A man who needed to be punished. You were the only one who would punish him and so he contacted you.

You took him up on the offer. He was an attractive man, obedient, sturdy and he paid you handsomely. And then the lines blurred… The two of you went past the thin line and now neither of you knew what you were to each other. Were you his carnal drug? Was he your human toy? Were there feelings? When his rough hands would wonder on your form was that a sign of more? Was it just him following an instruction? When you struck his face was that your way of telling him he was scum? When you pat his head was that genuine affection?

The play had been blurred and sadly neither of you wanted to admit that there was more. And when you walked into the room and saw him bare before you, you denied that you deeply cared for him. And he denied that he trusted you more than anyone else and that you did in fact hold a higher place in his heart than just being a quick fix.

Enji’s body quivered with anticipation when he heard your heels clack softly on the ground. His eyes were glued to the ground beneath him as he knew he couldn't look up at you without permission. It was when he saw the glossy black leather of your heels that he licked his lips.

“Look at you.” You sneered. “You're practically trembling.”

Your eyes looked down at him and you couldn’t help the smirk that touched your lips. Every time you saw him like this no matter how many times you’ve seen it, it never failed to fill your veins with unbridled delight. And you always vocalized the pleasure you got out of seeing the large imposing man so submissive before you.

“To think that this is Japan’s number one hero.” You scoffed, walking around him while dragging the riding crop across the expanse of his skin. He maintained his balsana pose, trying to contain the shivers the drag of the leather procured. You bit your lip contemplating on what you were going to say… You knew it was something that he wanted to hear but that didn’t make it easy.

“You don’t deserve that title.” You quipped bringing down the crop. The sound of it meeting his skin was accompanied by a low groan and you brought it down once more. “Do you deserve it? Do you deserve to be number one?”

“N-no.” He whispered.

“I can’t hear you speak up.” You hollered snapping your wrist allowing the dark material to mar his pale skin once more.

“No!” His fists were clenched tight in anticipation for another blow that never came.

“And why is that?” You cooed.

“I..I’m not. T-that’s-” He was cut off by your fingers threading into his crimson locks. And with a harsh tug you yanked him back, his azure eyes widening in surprise.

“Pathetic.” You sniggered “You can’t even speak. Why the hell are you even here?”

“B-because.” He gasped, licking his lips feverishly as his face had already taken the same hue as his hair. “Because I don’t deserve forgiveness and I want to be punished... Punished me Mistress”

Your eyes narrowed down at him. You stood silent as you watched his adam's apple bob when he swallowed thickly.

“Please.” He whined, crystalline liquid rimming his eyes.

“Get up.” You ordered.

He didn’t hesitate. His body was burning. Liquid heat was being spread by his veins as he walked over to the spot you indicated. It was shameful. Bending over for someone the way he did. His knuckles were white as he held onto the bar at the corner of the room. He could see you clearly from his spot. You looked fantastic. You always did. Your bodice was tight against your torso and the skirt you wore was straining against your ass.

He avoided looking forwards and continued to look at your reflection in the mirror watching as you grabbed a sizable paddle. He felt his cock strain at the sight and when your eyes caught his from the mirror his breath caught in his throat. You looked dangerous.

“Why aren’t you looking forwards?” You asked sweetly. It was a complete contrast to your now bruising grip of his roots. “There’s a dirty bitch just dying to look you in the eye.”

Blue eyes met as he looked at his reflection. “Don’t worry he gets even more pathetic, if you keep watching.” You teased.

-Slap-

“Hahngh” It was without warning that the paddle came down on his muscular cheek. It was followed by another to it’s twin and he had a clear view of how his face scrunched up at the sting.

“This is what you wanted right?” You huffed bringing down the paddle in rapid succession.

His legs trembled at the feeling. The saline liquid had already begun to spill from his eyes and they rimmed his strog jaw before dripping off onto the floor.

“Y-yes!.” he cried back. “More! Please” he sobbed.

Your hand went around his waist to grab his weeping length as you abused the skin of his ass. He was as stiff as a board in your hand. Pulsing with heat and dripping with need. And when you squeezed down his head bowed down.

“H-harder.” he choked, drool spilling down his chin as you pumped his length and rubbed the material of the paddle on his crimson ass. His large girth twitched in your palm as you gripped him tighter.

“I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry!” He panted deliriously. He was drunk of the pain and numbing pleasure. Whenever your thumb would tease his slit you’d bring down the paddle and it had him babbling and drooling.

You felt every twitch, every shake, sudder and moan. You were positively soaked. You could feel your pussy drool and clench at the sight of him coming undone before you.

“I don’t deserve it.” He gasped. He repeated it in a haze as he drew near his end. “Please don’t let me cum!” He cried. “I don’t deserve it.” he salivated.

“If you say so.” You shrugged, pulling back from him before he could release. It looked painful his swollen red tip throbbing with the need to release but having known Enji for a while you knew he was a big “Fucking pain slut.”

“Look at how sloppy you are.” You chided, using his hair to push his heated face against the cool mirror. He whined at his expression. “Is this the look of a hero? It looks more like a bitch in heat. Are you a bitch in heat Enji?!”

“N-no.” Your fingers found solace on his balls and you squeezed none too gently. “Yes! Yes I’m a bitch in heat~ Please Mistress Please use me, please fuck me, ruin me. I’m scum I want- I want-”

You shut him up by pulling him back. He whimpered pitifully when his ass met the cold ground. He didn’t get to complain as a loud moan slipped past his wet lips. He gripped his meaty thighs tightly as you stepped on his cock. His watery blue eyes looked up at you pleadingly. You leered down at him.

“Does it hurt?” You asked. He nodded not trusting his voice. “Do you want me to stop?” He shook his head.

“Hurt me. Hurt me like I hurt others.” He pleaded. “Suffocate me please.” He begged.

You stroked his hair back and out of his face. You knew Enji was far gone at the moment. He was deep within his subspace and you were thrilled that he trusted you enough to be so open with you.

“Suffocate you?” You mocked. “You think you deserve to have my pussy drown you?”

“No I don’t Mistress.” He whined.

“You know what I’ll indulge you.” You grinned while stepping off his throbbing length. Enji licked his suddenly dry lips as he watched you slip off your thong. You teasingly slid your skirt up and positioned yourself over his face.

“Fuck” You gasped when his tongue sliped pasted his lips to lap at your folds. Your grip on his hair tightened as the thick muscle circled the hood of your clit. It was embarrassing how wet you were. Your stringy slick quickly making a mess out of his face. His thick fingers traced your hole teasingly.

“Inside I want them inside.” You sighed. You felt bolts of pleasure run up your spin when he spoke a mumbled ‘yes mistress’ against your clit. And when one meaty finger entered your tight cunt you mewled. You pressed down harder against his face as he began to suckle your clit and another finger slid in.

“Enji~” You gasped, while grinding down on his face. Said man was growing light headed from the lack of oxygen but he never stopped. And when he heard you cry out again he knew his fingers hit the jackpot. Your body trembled a top of his as he brought you closer and closer. When you felt his other hand slide down to touch himself you pulled him off. Sure it cut off your orgasm but there was no way you were going to allow him to blatantly disobey you like that.

Your hand came across his face harshly, so much so that his cheek pulsed when his head was turned to the side.

“What the fuck were you doing?” You spat.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, laying his body down before you. You placed your foot on his head and glared down at him.

“You're just so greedy aren’t you? You know what I do to greedy disobedient brats?”

He shook at the thought of more punishment. And when you learned down to whisper in his ear he moaned like a needy bitch.

“I give greedy bitches exactly what they want and I stuff their slutty holes. You want me to fill your slutty asshole?” He whined. “You see I was going to fuck you. See you whine as I dragged my thick cock in and out of that tight ass but I feel like you don’t deserve it.”

“I don’t, I don’t want pleasure, punish me. Fuck (Nmae) please” He cried; rivets of tears spilling down his cheeks. And so you did. You found the thickest plug you owned and his ass received it with little resistance.

“You’ve been playing with your asshole haven’t you.” You teased. “To think that the great Endeavor likes things up his ass.”

“Full.” he drooled “I want to feel full.” He panted. “I feel so empty.” You paused.

“Enji..” You mumbled.

“No.” He shook his head and moved so he was sitting up. “I don’t want to think, just fill me up.”

His big hand grabbed his throbbing length. He had been holding off on cumming so it was incredibly hard it must have been painful. But what he said next surprised you as you had never attempted that kink with him before.

“Stuff my cock too” he asked. “I know you’ve done it before.” He mewled.

You felt your face heat up at what he was acting. You knew that you had him at your mercy most of the time during your play but this! This was something akin to laying your life down at one's feet.

“Are you sure? It might hurt since you're hard.” He nodded. You left him with the instruction ‘Don’t touch yourself’ as you went to go sterilize the probes. When you came back you let him choose.

“Relax yourself and don’t move.” You ordered taking the hot flesh into your hand. You position the bougie at his tip and he whined holding his thighs tightly to avoid moving. It was different. It stung a bit but the pressure he felt in his prostate when it brushed against his bladder was incredible. When it was finally all in he panted.

“F-full I’m so fucking full.” He gasped. Tears blurred his vision when you tugged at the butt plug in his ass. With painfully slow movements you pulled it out only to push it back in.

“Fuck, Look at you Enji.” you breathed, your fingers pinched his hardened nipples as he began to grind against the plug. And when you bit down on one and slithered your hand to play with the bougie in his cock he melted. His eyes rolled back as he came and you were careful to pull it out and watched as his cum spilled off the side of his length like a volcano. Your fingers dug into your unt at the sight. One hand drew frantic circles on your clit while the others thrust inside of you in quick succession.

“Fuck Enji look at this fucking mess.�� You whined dragging your fingers against the deep grooves of your cunt. “Clean it up, you fucking pain slut.”

A bit shaky he got to his knees and leaned down to lap at your cunt again. You held him against your pussy as you ground yourself against his face.

“Hnngh this is what your good for, This is your only fucking purpose right now.” You panted. You continued to degrade him as your orgasm washed over you. A sudden calmness reigning over the room as Enji slurped up your release. Your fingers carded through his hair as you came down from your high.

“I want to try the Van buren now.” Your jaw dropped. And then you shook your head. “Your really intent on this punishment shit aren’t you.” He nodded. “Don’t cry when you get hard and it starts to hurt.”

You rolled your eyes at the large ginger as he pushed you away saying that he was undeserving of aftercare. He curled up into himself and you huffed in annoyance.

“Don’t be fucking stubborn “ you hissed applying a soothing cream to the raw flesh of his ass. “You did good.”

“I don’t want praise!” He whined, trying to get out of your hold. Your fingers rubbed circles into his back as he began to cry. He spilled his thoughts to you, his insecurities, his worries, his struggles, his self-loathing...everything. You were silent as he did so and only when he was reduced to sniffles did you speak.

“You have a lot of faults Enji… Redemption? Forgiveness? It may not be impossible but it sure as hell isn’t going to be easy….. Next time you feel this way I don’t want you to come to me. You can’t avoid these feelings with sex. You can’t get better by ignoring it. Like I said before I know a good therapist, You’ll be alright, I think the first step to getting better is admitting you have a problem and if you work hard at it you can be a better person for yourself and those around you.”

“Will you… Will you help me through it?” He asked. In that moment he was more vulnerable than he had ever been.

Your fingers curled into his and you gave him your honest answer….

#bnharem collab #enji todoroki #bnha endeavor #Endeavor smut #enji Todoroki x reader #Enji smut #Enji lemon #bnha smut #bnha angst

833 notes · View notes

ineffable0husbands · 5 years

Note

Fic title: A Change of Management in Heaven

Warnings: Crying, breakdowns, anger, alcohol use, blood, glass breaking, possibly a suicide attempt (but the character’s drunk so it’s more of an accident), suicidal ideation, and self-hatred

Ship(s): Ineffable Husbands. Platonic Gabriel & Aziraphale, and Platonic Gabriel & Crowley

tag list: @adoratato @iamdevilantlysatan @bri-cas @that-gender-bender@scum-of-the-earth @pieces-of-annedrew@scampycat4999@elrilsf @my-emo-child @always-reading2 @larrklopp @l-garnxtt @halbarryislife@ninjacatinsanitycrazy@impossiblynervouscycle @audder17 @boredafsposts @i-really-dig-the-purple@mycrappylife01@lostwolf-fandomlover@hamiltrashphannerd@she-who-must-not-be-named@sundry-whovengerslocked@deceitfullyanxiousprince@booklover223@twdlover03@drunkinfandomstuff @nimsy1920 @catsarebestest @sonic-spade@reprehensibleghost @to-dance-among-stars-in-dreams@afternoon-sunlight @danifandxm @oddpopsicle @rise-abxve @shipping–hell

The last person Crowley expected to see in a crowded pub on a Saturday night was the archangel Gabriel, but there he was in all his shining glory, hair a mess and usual pristine suit replaced with an outfit akin to what he’d worn at the Not-Pocalypse. They were darker though, a dull grey color, not their usual white. He was surrounded by empty glasses and bottles and looked about ready to pass out, but he called to the bartender for another beer. Crowley wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“What are you doing here?” Crowley spat, taking his usual seat at the bar and waving for his drink. They knew him well here; he came every day at the same time since the early ‘70s. Of course, the bartenders all assumed he was keeping up some sort of family tradition, much like Shadwell with the witchfinder army (until he figured out the truth). Gabriel looked up blearily, squinting at the demon before tensing.

“Crowley. Fancy seeing you here,” Gabriel said with a stiff smile, trying to remain calm as he leaned against the bar. “Just getting a few drinks, you?” Crowley glanced at the numerous glasses and bit back a smart reply of how it didn’t look like just a few drinks to him.

“Doing the same. Aziraphale wanted to spend some time reading and I’m not really one for just lounging around,” he lied easily. The truth was, the angel was visiting Madame Tracy and Shadwell and Crowley just didn’t want to admit he was lonely; not to Gabriel. Gabriel hummed and nodded, a flicker of sadness in his eyes as he lifted the glass to his lips.

“How is he? Aziraphale?” Crowley scowled.

“Why do you care? You tried to murder him,” Crowley muttered. Gabriel tensed and his grip on the glass tightened so much it shattered. Crowley jumped back in surprise and a few of the bar’s patrons cried out. Gabriel grabbed a napkin and pressed it to his bleeding hand, muttering apologies to the bartender as he grabbed the shards of glass, cutting his hands up more as he shakily went over to the bar’s rubbish pin and threw it away. Tiredly, he healed his hands and went back to his seat.

“You alright? Didn’t get any glass on you?” Gabriel asked, giving Crowley a once-over and checking for broken glass on his clothes. Crowley shook his head and moved his seat a little further away. Gabriel was clearly drunk out of his mind; the angel never showed his true physical strength in public.

“Any particular reason that struck a nerve?’ Crowley asked, quirking an eyebrow at the other man. Gabriel grimaced and chugged his beer, taking down the entire bottle in one go. He groaned and held his face in his hands.

“Let’s just say I apparently fucked up really, really badly in the eyes of God. Heaven is now under new management,” Gabriel said bitterly, moving his hands to grab his handkerchief and wipe his eyes. Crowley stared at him in disbelief.

“They demoted you? Why? Because we stopped Armaggedon?” Crowley asked, shocked. Sure, the Almighty could be unreasonable at times, but why would she strip Gabriel of his position when he did everything he could to stop them. Gabriel laughed, but it was humorless, and the end of it turned into a choked sob.

“Oh, they didn’t just demote me. I fell, Crowley. I’m a demon,” Gabriel said with a sarcastic grin, tears welling up in his eyes. “I’m a demon. Yep! All because I didn’t fucking listen to you and Aziraphale. Apparently, you were right! The world ending now wasn’t part of the divine plan! But how the FUCK WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT WHEN YOU DON’ SAY SHIT?!” Gabriel screamed at the Heavens, shaking his fist up at the sky as tears began to roll down his face. Crowley grabbed Gabriel’s wrist, pulling him back down to earth and forcing him to look at, him. Gabriel’s eyes were beginning to turn a deep black, clouding over the whites of his eyes. He looked terrifying.

“You’re drunk, Gabriel. You need to sober up or come with me, or something,” Crowley said desperately. He did not like the ang-demon, but he knew how painful it was to fall. He had experienced it. Gabriel wrenched away from Crowley, still crying. He left his bill and stormed out of the bar, blinded by tears and rage. Crowley paid quickly and ran after Gabriel, searching wildly for him in the bustling streets. He spotted the light gray scarf the demon was wearing and ran after him, yelling his name. Gabriel ignored him, hands shoved deep into his pockets as he walked right into the road, tears falling rapidly down his cheeks. Crowley grabbed him by the back of the shirt and dragged him out of the streets just as a car came barreling towards him, nearly hitting the demon and discorporating him.

“What in heaven’s name are you doing?” Crowley hissed, grabbing Gabriel by the shoulders. “You could have been killed! it takes a lot more effort to get a new body in hell than it does in Heaven, I can tell you that!” Crowley was starting to get annoyed with the freshly fallen demon. Yeah, he got the whole self-hating thing, but this was getting ridiculous. Gabriel stared blankly at him for a moment before looking at the road with longing.

“Humans are so lucky, aren’t they?” Gabriel whispered. “When they die, that’s it. They go to Heaven or hell. We have to live, again, and again, and again. It never stops. There’s no way to escape it.” The demon was shaking again and his tears returned fiercely. Gabriel looked back at Crowley, his expression so filled with anguish, it made the demon’s heart stop. “I want to go home.” His voice broke and he dissolved into sobs, quickly covering his mouth with his hand as his shook, tears spilling rapidly and sobs making his shoulders jerk. Crowley’s eyes softened and he took Gabriel by the shoulders, heart aching when he flinched, and guiding him through the streets to Aziraphale’s bookshop.

“I’m bringing you to the bookshop tonight, but you can come to my flat after this any time you like. Hell can be pretty bleak,” Crowley said. Gabriel followed him but said nothing, and Crowley found himself rambling on about nothing and everything just to fill up the silence. Gabriel’s tears came to a stop and he slowly relaxed as he just listened to Crowley, leaning into him and bracing himself by putting an arm around his shoulders. Crowley found himself not really minding. Don’t worry, dear reader, Gabriel is far from being forgiven; Crowley was merely sympathetic to the demon’s situation. He knew what falling was like, and he knew what falling despite loving Heaven with everything you are was like. The odd pair soon reached Aziraphale’s bookshop and Crowley helped Gabriel up the stairs, guiding him in through the door and into the small parlor. He sat him down in his usual chair and miracled up a cup of tea.

“You…You said I could sober up. How do I do that?” Gabriel slurred. Crowley nearly forgot that Gabriel had never had alcohol before or any earthly things for that matter.

“Just concentrate and…squeeze? I don’t know how to describe it better, sorry,” Crowley said apologetically, handing Gabriel the cup of tea. The demon screwed up his face and did as Crowley instructed, and back in the pub, the bartender stared in amazement as thirty-something empty bottles and glasses filled back up to the brim with alcohol. Gabriel wrinkled his nose and smacked his mouth.

“Remind me to never get drunk again. Ever,” Gabriel muttered, rubbing his face and sighing deeply. Crowley’s lips quirked into a smile and he sat across from the other demon, watching him as he sipped his tea. Gabriel closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the beverage flood through him. His eyes suddenly snapped open and he groaned as if he’d just remembered something embarrassing. “Did I really try to get myself run over by a car and then get all emo about it?” Gabriel asked, grimacing. Crowley sighed and nodded.

“It was…frightening, honestly. I’ve never seen you like that. I know it’s a dumb question, but…are you alright?” Crowley said gently. Gabriel pursed his lips and set down the cup of tea, folding his hands in his lap. After a moment, he responded.

“No. No, I don’t think I am,” Gabriel answered honestly, tapping his fingers against his legs. Crowley nodded in understanding. “I dedicated my entire existence to Heaven, and to serving Her. Now it’s gone; I don’t know what to do with myself. That was my one purpose. it was the only thing that made me worth something,” he continued softly, his gaze dropping to his feet. “I’m nothing without Heaven. Without Heaven, I’m just a big-headed, egotistical moron,” he spat, tone and words becoming more and more self-deprecating. Crowley frowned and went to respond when the door opened and Aziraphale stepped inside, carrying a bag of Chinese takeout and grinning from ear to ear.

“I’m home dear! Did you miss- What the hell is he doing here?” Aziraphale’s bags fell to the floor and he glared at Gabriel. Crowley quickly stood and Gabriel curled further in on himself, hiding his face in shame. Crowley rested a hand on Aziraphale’s chest, looking him in the eye.

“Angel, sunshine, dearest, my love, listen to me,” Crowley said. Aziraphale scowled.

“No amount of flattery and cheesy nicknames is getting you out of this one, and you better believe it, Anthony Crowley! Now explain your…” Aziraphale’s voice suddenly trailed off and he looked at Gabriel with wide eyes. He sensed a different presence than usual, like when Gabriel had sensed evil in his shop when it was Crowley. He felt that, but more intensely, and he gasped. “Oh, you’ve fallen,” he said breathlessly, clasping his hands and wringing them, eyebrows furrowing in confusion and denial. “W-Why did you…?”

“You were right and I was wrong. God expected me to listen to you and I didn’t which went against Her Divine Plan, so I was cast out,” Gabriel said, answering the unspoken question. Aziraphale’s eyes widened and he moved away from Crowley, hesitatingly standing in front of Gabriel.

“You shouldn’t have fallen,” Aziraphale said softly. “I may not like you, and your methods were very unethical, but…it was all for Heaven. You were so dedicated-”

“I know, Aziraphale. Please, I know you’re trying to be kind, but you’re rubbing salt in the wound,” Gabriel pleaded, looking up at Aziraphale with a desperate look in his eyes. Aziraphale murmured a hushed apology and sat down. Crowley got a third chair and sat next to him. The two of them stared at Gabriel, the tension in the air thick enough to be cut with a knife. “I should be going. I’ve intruded on your hospitality long enough. Thank you for the tea, I’ll let the two of you get on with your night,” Gabriel said, bowing his head slightly in a gesture of thanks and standing, getting ready to go out the door.

“You will do no such thing!” Aziraphale said, voice scolding as he stood as well and blocked Gabriel’s way to the door. Gabriel sighed.

“Aziraphale, this really isn’t-”

“Not none more word out of you,” Crowley chimed in, getting up and joining Aziraphale’s side. “You’re staying here, at least for the night. You’re in no state to be going out in the streets of London alone,” he continued in a matter-of-fact tone. Gabriel’s nostrils flared.

“Says who?!”

“Says common sense! I found you drunk on Vodka and beer and then you tried to kill yourself!” Crowley replied, tone harsh but not angry. Aziraphale gasped.

“He what?!”

“Yeah! He tried to run in front of a moving car! I’m sorry Gabriel, but we are not leaving you alone right now. You’re staying here, and that’s final,” Crowley said firmly. Gabriel grimaced.

“You two are the last people who should even be thinking about helping me,” Gabriel said solemnly, attempting to push past the two of them again. Aziraphale grabbed him by the shoulders and looked at him pointedly.

“If you’re acting this way because you believe you do not deserve our forgiveness, then you are wrong,” Aziraphale said firmly, taking both Gabriel and Crowley by surprise. “Everyone is forgivable, even a demon, and I’ve had worse things said and done to me by the human race than things you’ve said, and I love people with all my heart. You, Gabriel, are no different. That doesn’t mean I like you, but I don’t have to like you to forgive you or help you when you’re hurting. Do you understand?” Gabriel blinked back tears and nodded, his head hanging low in shame. Aziraphale softened and put his arm around Gabriel’s shoulders, leading him up the stairs. “Why don’t you get some sleep? Don’t worry, I can show you how; Crowley helped me learn. It’s a human thing but it’s very pleasant, and when you feel sad like this it’s a good distraction.” Crowley listened to his angel explaining what sleep was with a smile before returning to his seat, removing his glasses and setting them down on the table.

Crowley rarely talked to God. He thought it was meaningless and stupid; she wasn’t listening anyway, so nothing would come of it. He found it comforting, however, to occasionally voice his doubts and concerns to the Heavens. She cared once, and Crowley would pretend that she cared again until the day he died.

“I understand you want to keep your ranks pure, but this is ridiculous. He was doing what he thought was best for Heaven. Why would you make him fall?” Crowley muttered, more to himself than actually to God. “He loves Heaven. He loves You, even now after you’ve forsaken him. He wants to go home. why can’t you just let him go home?” Crowley drifted off to sleep in his chair with a trace of bitterness in his heart, curled up into a ball and muttering about how unfair it all was.

The next morning, Crowley was shaken out of his slumber by a loud scream coming from the bedroom upstairs. Thinking it was Aziraphale, he jumped to his feet and bolted up the stairs. However, he bumped into the aforementioned angel in the hallway, who was blearily stumbling towards the spare room. They exchanged a glance before rushing into the room Gabriel was in, bracing themselves for what they would find inside. Gabriel was standing in the middle of the room, thankfully fully clothed, but mouth agape. His wings were extended to their full glory, lush and white and as Heavenly as the stars in the sky. His clothes had returned from grey to their normal white.

“Which one of you did this?!” Gabriel demanded tearfully, pointing an accusatory finger at the two of them. “This isn’t funny! How could you do this? You know I-”

“We didn’t do this, calm down!” Crowley snapped, cutting the ranting man off. Gabriel pursed his lips and folded his arms stiffly. Aziraphale gazed at his wings in wonder, a thoughtful expression on his face as he looked Gabriel up and down.

“I no longer sense another Fallen presence. Gabriel, have you…was your fall reversed by the Almighty? I only sense holiness from you.” Gabriel shook his head, his hands beginning to shake.

“That’s impossible. Unless I was prayed for and the Almighty listened, which I doubt was the case, I am still a demon,” Gabriel replied. Crowley scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

“I…uh…may have said a tiny little prayer. Last night, after Aziraphale took you up to the bed, I had a little heart to heart with God. I don’t know why she would choose to listen now,” Crowley admitted. Gabriel blinked and then looked at his wings. His face flushed and Aziraphale could sense a rush of joy that flooded the entire room, so strong it nearly knocked him off his feet.

“Oh my God,” Gabriel said breathlessly, his eyes wide as he ran a hand over his soft, white feathers. “Oh my God, She…She actually…holy shit!” Gabriel exclaimed, shock giving way to a bright grin and shining purple eyes. There was no black, no demonic eyes staring back at Aziraphale and Crowley.

“What are we waiting for then? You need to get back to Heaven!” Crowley said, clapping Gabriel on the back with a grin of his own on his face, feeling a twinge of jealousy but quickly shoving it down. Gabriel nodded vigorously. “We’ll take the Bentley. It’ll get is there faster than walking!”

And fast that car went indeed. Aziraphale couldn’t recall a time Crowley had driven as fast as he had that day. He drove like a maniac, like a…well, like a demon. They had reached the main entrance to heaven in no time, and Gabriel was practically vibrating with excitement as he jumped out of the car. Crowley and Aziraphale joined him, having to run after him as he went up the escalator steps two at a time. By the time Aziraphale and Crowley had caught up to Gabriel, he had skidded to a stop in the middle of Heaven, eyes wide as he stared at the other archangels. They hadn’t noticed him yet, talking quietly among themselves, each of them wearing a grave expression. Nervous and excited at the same time, Gabriel clasped his hands behind his back and cleared his throat dramatically. All three of the archangels whipped their heads up to look at Gabriel, mouths hanging open in surprise.

“Gabriel!” Michael shouted joyously, flinging her arms around the restored archangel and crying on his neck. Gabriel held Michael in his arms, picking her up and spinning as tears of joy ran down his face. Sandalphon and Uriel practically tackled their friend with pure joy, hugging him tightly and laughing through their tears. Michael and Gabriel shared a kiss as tears rolled down their cheeks, holding one another and crying together.

“How is this possible? A fall is permanent! You…You shouldn’t be back,” Uriel stammered, clinging to Gabriel’s arm, their eyes wide. Gabriel smiled and looked at Crowley and Aziraphale brightly.

“Well, I wasn’t alone. I had some help.” The three other archangels stared at Aziraphale and Crowley with disbelief, until Michael broke away, tears still falling down steadily. She took both of Crowley’s hands in hers.

“Thank you for bringing him home to us. Thank you so much,” she said through sobs, kissing Crowley on both cheeks before doing the same to Aziraphale. She lingered there for a moment though, and Aziraphale wrapped his arms around her in an embrace. When they pulled away she was smiling brighter than Aziraphale had ever seen her smile before. She joined Gabriel at his side once more, grabbing his hand and leaning into his side.

“He didn’t deserve to fall. We both knew that. We’re just happy he can return to his true calling,” Aziraphale said with a soft smile. Gabriel’s eyes were soft and kind as he looked at the couple.

“If either of you ever needs anything, you can always consider Heaven an ally. We will be here if you ever need us,” Sandalphon said, grinning with his crooked teeth and dimples. Aziraphale and Crowley both nodded. Gabriel gave Michael’s hand a squeeze before going to the two of them, eyes flitting nervously.

“You didn’t have to help me, and that makes your actions even more commendable. I’ll never be able to repay you,” Gabriel said, placing a hand on Crowley’s shoulder and clasping one of Aziraphale’s hands in his own.

“Oh, come here you big sap,” Aziraphale teased, pulling Gabriel forward by his hand and trapping him in a hug. Crowley smirked at the surprised grunt that left the angel and decided to join the hug. It was brief, but all three entities pulled away smiling. “You do a good job up here, you hear?” Aziraphale said, wagging a finger at the archangel. Gabriel laughed, his eyes sparkling, and nodded.

“Yes sir, I promise. You two do a good job on earth,” Gabriel replied. More embraces were exchanged, and tearful thanks from each of the archangels were brushed aside by modesty. And with that, they parted ways. Gabriel returned to Heaven, once again in the company of angels and friends and a lover, and Aziraphale and Crowley returned back to their earth, to their bookshops and their vintage cars and Queen.

162 notes · View notes

istheresomebodywhocanimagine · 5 years

Text

Legs

notyoursneverwas-post said: hello my dear, are your requests open? if so, i have a little idea! 💓 could you write an imagine with reader x roger, where she is a politics student and she's just really into politics and really smart and one time she's with roger at the club, she wants to fight 2 guys, who are very ignorant and just have dumb views on politics and she's like fighting them?? and roger thinks she's adorable and protects here? it would be so AMAZING! i hope you have a great day and thanks for doing all this!💓

(a/n: did a little research for this one, had a night off from work and felt like seeing if i could get this one out tonight. also requests ARE open! Just don’t know how fast they will come out, seeing as I’m back in classes again and my new classes are intensive upper level credits, so the imagines will come out sporadically!! ily! also i figured i should start moving the read more down a bit to give little hints of my work on first glance hehe ok to the imagine)

Your best friend (with a few benefits) Roger was never one to pass up a night out on the town. So, when you hinted at it after a particularly long day of classes, he practically jumped at the offer. You had planned on studying for finals that night, but you needed a drink, and so did he. On top of that, Roger had already been toying with the idea of going out with the boys that night, so you all agreed to go together. Problem was, you were having trouble finding something to wear.

“You’ll be the token woman of the group, it doesn’t matter what you wear!” Roger teased, sitting on the edge of your bed and kicking his feet out as he fell back onto it. He started playing with the buttons on his white shirt, unbuttoning it to the middle, and sighed. “Wear those striped bell bottoms with the white blouse tied up, you’ll have legs for days! Men will be lining up! ”

You rolled your eyes at his flirty undertones, peeking out of your closet for a moment. He was always like this, never had his mind out of the gutter, especially around you. “I’ll smack you silly, Taylor. Keep your mind off my legs!”

“I’m just saying!” he laughed, sitting up and throwing his hands in the air innocently. “It’s a fact!”

You gave him a warning look, then grinned before going back into your closet to find the vertically-striped bell bottoms. “Watch it, mate.” Recently, you’d been trying to fend off his advances until he committed a bit more to going steady with you, and it had been a bit trying for both of you considering you were still close friends.

“Oof,” he said, clutching at his chest dramatically. “So serious, Y/N. If you were any more serious, you’d be a politics major. Oh wait…” he trailed off, grinning at his own stupid joke as you came out of the closet, buttoning up the high-waisted bell bottoms and giving him an eye roll in response. “You took my advice, smart girl!” he cheered, clapping a few times at the outfit while you slipped into your platforms.

“I hate to admit it, but you do give the best fashion advice,” you mumbled, focusing mainly on tying your shirt up at your midriff. You watched yourself in the mirror to do so, and when you were done you glanced over in the mirror to see Roger staring at you in it, a shit-eating grin on his face. You groaned, grabbing your purse and turning to face him. “Come on, you perv. We’ve got to get to the club, the boys will be there soon.”

“Lining up, Y/N!” he proclaimed as he followed you out the door, ignoring your complaints. “They’ll be lining up! And I’ll be the first!”

You didn’t beat the boys to the club, but they weren’t hard to find amongst crowd. In fact, they’d managed to grab a booth before the place had exploded with people. You took a seat between John and Roger after grabbing a pint at the bar, where some people were watching the football match between Brazil and England on a big box TV behind the bar. You’d never cared much for the sport, as the matches seemed long and low-scoring, but you appreciated it nonetheless.

“Fashionably late?” John asked, referring to your outfits. Neither you nor Roger had underdressed in the slightest, contrasting with John’s jeans and plain blue button up.

“Even politicians have more sense of style than you, John, does that bother you?” Roger retorted, John waving him off in response and taking another drink of his lager.

“Roger, as much as I enjoy teasing John, I can handle my own witty remarks, thank you,” you said, using a warning tone that made Roger hold up his hands in surrender. You instead struck up a conversation with John about classes, seeing as he was a bit younger than the rest of you but remarkably advanced in his field.

After downing your first pint, you excused yourself from the conversation and went to go get another at the bar, Roger saying he’d be there in a moment and whistling after you when you started to walk away, earning a generous middle finger from you.

You approached the bar, waiting for the bartender to give you your turn, and started to watch the football match on the TV. It seemed uneventful at the moment, one Brazil man you somewhat recognized blurring across the screen a couple times. The men nearby that were watching it booed as he did, both of them seeming upset. At first, you figured they were just England fans, but what one of them spit out next stopped you dead in your tracks.

“Bah! His kind shouldn’t even be allowed on the field, fucking disgusting, it is.” It was enough to make your blood boil as you struggling to ignore them, ordering another pint and gripping the edge of the bar tightly.

“You’re absolutely right, Pelé and his whole squad are disgraces to football. Rigged!”

The bartender took your money, ignoring the men down the bar as well and dutifully getting you another beer as you stared straight ahead, struggling to keep your mouth shut. But then the first man said it. He called him that horrific word, six letters, two syllables, starting with an N. The bartender paused for a moment, then shook their head and handed you the beer. You were far past worrying about the beer, however, and you only grabbed it as a possible weapon as you pushed past people down to where the pair men sat crowded around the TV. Approaching the first one, who’d been the last to speak, you dove right in.

“Hey!” you called out, tapping rather forcefully on his shoulder. He turned around, looking at you up and down and smirking.

“You could have just said excuse me, Legs, I’d scoot over for ya,” he replied lecherously, not sure what to make of your aggressive demeanour despite the fact that he was flirting with you. You gagged for a moment, then sat your beer down on the bar and crossed your arms, not even flinching as he stood up in front of you.

“No, what did I hear you say just now?” you demanded. He looked confused, unaware of what you were referring to.

“Legs?” he asked, giving you a look like you were the stupidest person on this side of the planet.

“No, before that!” you replied, your face heating up as you dared him to say it again. And after a smirk and a glance at Pelé on the screen, he did.

“Is that what you meant?” he clarified, steam practically shooting out of your ears at this point.

“You’ve got a set of balls, haven’t you? You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

The guy, who at this point was looking at his friend as if to say ‘this twit,’ shrugged and put his hands in his pockets, smiling almost creepily. “I suppose I do. What’s it to you, are you one of those crazy slags who’s all about civil rights and women’s liberation?”

You raised an eyebrow at the word slag, resisting the urge to swing at him this very instant. “So what if I am? Let’s see who’s on the right side of history in 30 years, mate. Me, or you and your National Front mates?”

“What’s wrong with the National Front?” the other man challenged, finally speaking up. Standing up as well, he was directly behind his friend’s left shoulder, looking at you like you were the scum of the earth. “At least we’re trying to keep tradition alive and make this place not such a fucking shithole for everyone. You and your lot have gone bonkers, you’re filling the whole country with illegals and colored people,” he said, putting a disgusted emphasis on the last two words.

“Jesus Christ, you’re both mental!” you exclaimed, hardly even believing your ears. “You believe you’re cleaning up the cities, when all you’re doing is oppressing and oppressing and denying people like us basic human rights! I can’t even fucking get birth control without paying out the arse for it-“

“Then don’t have sex,” the first one chimed in, getting a nasty look from you. “No one’s forcing you.”

“Oh really?” you remarked bitterly, crossing your arms again. “You think no National Front muppet has ever forced someone to have sex with them? You’re delusional, mate, seriously. And don’t even get me started on your policies, that’s a completely new field of shit.” Though you didn’t know it, Roger had came up to the bar where you were just moments ago, and was now spectating on your bitter back-and-forth with the two men, smiling a bit. You were such a feisty thing, he found it to be one of his favorite qualities of yours. Although he didn’t find you nearly as intimidating because of how much he knew you, it was endearing and he thought you looked really adorable when you got mad.

“Oh piss off,” the second man groaned, clearly over you already. “You probably haven’t got a fucking clue about politics, you daft cunt.”

“I mean, she’s a political science major, so there’s that,” Roger cut in, his voice appearing behind your right shoulder and almost making you jump. You appreciated his presence, but at the same time, you wanted to tell him that you didn’t need his help. The two men looked at him like he was an alien, but Roger appeared entirely unbothered as he went to stand at your side, nonchalantly putting his hands in his pockets. “What’s the problem here, boys?”

“She’s got all pissy because apparently I said a no-no word,” the first one spit back, not even bothering to size up Roger as he stared straight at you, something like malice in his eyes.

“Well, what’d he say?” Roger inquired, looking at you curiously. He had to smile at how angry you looked. It was, as he noted before, cute, but he decided against pointing that out to you right now. Nonetheless, he couldn’t help but be attracted to you, even more so in that moment. And that made him want to protect you even more, so he stepped so that he was at least partially between you and the men.

You crossed your arms even further, nodding towards him, then looking at Roger. “Ask him.”

Roger didn’t even have to ask, because the first man jerked a thumb back at the screen and repeated that horrid word for the third time, smirking. “Brazil’s team is full of ‘em. And your little lady here is about to catch a fucking haymaker if she doesn’t get off my case about it.”

“Jesus,” Roger said under his breath, knowing he needed to get you out of that situation now or it was about to get rough. He thought that one second too late, because you’d already grabbed your beer from the bar, taken a quick drink, then threw it in the first man’s face. Roger cursed loudly and turned quickly, wrapping an arm around your waist and tossing you over his shoulder as you tried to throw hands at the now-soaked man who was still in shock. “You’re something, Y/N!” Roger laughed, hoping that he could get out of the club before you broke free.

“Fucking fascist pigs!” you practically screamed, ignoring Roger completely.

“That’s right, take your stupid cunt of a girlfriend elsewhere, mate!” the man yelled after him, now wiping his face off with a couple of cocktail napkins and spewing all types of slurs and general bullshit at you as you flipped him off with both hands, Roger managing to get you out of the club’s door with some difficulty.

Once you were down the sidewalk a bit, Roger finally sat you down, standing between you and the club’s entrance. You started pacing immediately, ranting as Roger stood there with crossed arms and watched you.

“The fucking nerve of that knobhead! Out in broad daylight, just spewing out that nonsense like he was actually delivering the message of God! I’d like to give him a good fucking smack across the face for that shit, I would! What a complete moron - and then they both have the fucking audacity to tell me that I don’t know a fucking thing about politics! Well, fucking excuse me, I forgot I was supposed to be a dumb slag that cooks and cleans and waits hand and foot on fucking men!”

Roger smirked as he listened to you, admiring how passionately you felt about what had just happened. Also, he found it hard to take your anger seriously, even if you were making valid points. It just made you look even cuter to him, and now was not the right time to give in and ask you out for real.

You slowed down after a minute, sighing raggedly and looking over to Roger, who you found to be smiling. “What’s so funny, Roger?” you complained, looking at him with almost a sad look in your eyes. Roger shrugged, trying to hide his smile as you started to tug at your earlobe anxiously, walking over to him. “I could use a hug,” you pretty much demanded, Roger obliging and pulling you into a warm, firm hug. You buried your face in his shoulder, appreciating that he smelled good tonight, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

After a while of just standing there embracing you, Roger finally cleared his throat. “You know, Y/N, earlier I was pretty set on the legs for days thing, but I think you’ve found a new niche with this “cute when angry” thing.”

You gasped and pulled away as far as he would let you, smacking his chest gently as he laughed at your disgust. “You’ve got some fucking nerve too!” you almost whined, trying to push him away and hide your laughter.

Roger’s laugh was always contagious to you, though, so you couldn’t help but start laughing at him, still trying to wriggle out of his grasp. It was just tight enough to keep you locked in his embrace, and yet you kept fighting. “I’m joking, I’m joking!” Roger exclaimed between fits of laughter, grinning. “You can do both of them, though - now then you’d be a real force!”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were flirting with me right now, Mr. Taylor,” you remarked, giving him a pointed look as he kept his arms around your waist, an innocent look on his face.

“Well, you should be thankful you’re cute, because you’re actually daft if you don’t know that I am,” he replied quickly, giving you the same pointed look in return. You grinned, shaking your head at him, and he whined playfully, pulling you as close as possible and resting one hand on the bare skin of your side, his thumb rubbing circles just below your ribs. “C’mon, I’ve been flirting with you for ages, don’t be coy with me all of a sudden. And we both know that you’re cute and brilliant, so you can’t be that oblivious.”

Sighing, you wrapped your arms around his neck, deciding you could relent for one night. Besides, you could get all your frustrations at that stupid man out too. “You do have a point.” With that, you leaned in, kissing him lightly, and he kissed back almost immediately, hungry for what he’d been missing since you left him out to dry.

But you weren’t going to let him have the satisfaction quite yet, so you pulled away after gently biting onto his lower lip, tugging a bit before letting go and pulling away completely. Roger groaned as you did so, upset at the loss of contact. “But if you ever step in and try to protect me from Nazi pricks again, I’ll chop your balls off, I swear on it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want that,” Roger chuckled, shaking his head before diving in for another kiss, murmuring against your lips between kisses, “I guess I can live with those terms, love.”

#roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x reader #queen imagine

108 notes · View notes

evohealed · 5 years

Note

Truth: Thoughts on when you found out about Noah being an agent for White Knight

XXX

“What – hey, that’s not – urghh, no fair!” Rex looks desperate not to answer this question, and rightfully so – it’d been a hatchet he long since buried, and he hadn’t really expected to be asked about this so suddenly. But it wasn’t like he could lie his way out of this or try to change the topic so easily – not when he was under the truth serum. It took a few awkward moments of silence before he said anything, eyes trained on his gloves and away from the face of the person who asked this.

“…Fine, whatever, might as well just get it over with. Look, when I found out about Noah being an agent for White Knight I felt… betrayed.” That in and of itself is hard enough for the young EVO to admit, but it’s clear he’s not done answering yet – much to his VERY CLEAR chagrin.

“… I thought Noah was the first person I could actually trust. I mean sure, APPARENTLY I used to be a pretty normal kid, but from what I’ve learned over the years and what my journals say, I wasn’t exactly living a good life back then. Even if I can’t remember it, since that explosion I’ve never really known what it’s like to be a normal kid. And I don’t think I ever will – I never really had a childhood I could remember. But I used to be a normal kid! And I thought that Noah was the same, you know? Like, he was the first kid that REALLY understood me. I was so excited!”

With a sigh, he continues on – his tone is bitter and his eyebrows are furrowed, though his focus never leaves his gloves as the tugging and playing with them increase tenfold.

“…But then I found out he was hired to be my friend, and, well. I was furious. What the hell was Providence thinking, trying to play me like that? What was NOAH doing trying to be my friend? Did he even WANT to be my friend? I thought it was pretty clear he didn’t, but then again… How would I know? I’ve never had a real friend before. Not one that I can remember, anyways. I was so furious I could have cried! And almost did, ahha…. but that’s besides the point. I gotta be honest.. I hated him. Even for a little bit, even if it didn’t last – I genuinely hated him, and I never wanted to see him again. Course, that changed real quick, but.. for a bit there, he was the scum of the Earth in my opinion. I mean, I’ve pretty much been treated like a weapon my whole life, and I know that’s all I really am. I know that! I do! It’s just… when you have someone treat you decent for the first time, someone who reminds you that you’re worth caring for and you’re more than a weapon… a-and then to find out that the only reason he even treated me like a normal person was because he was PAID to…”

He couldn’t even bring himself to finish that sentence, but from the despair on his face alone it’s more than enough to get his feelings across. Here’s where his tone goes from bitter to just sad – and he looks like a kicked puppy. Not exactly a look that comes across his face often, or one he lets show much, but it’s here and now he can’t go back.

“I just wanna know… why? Why did he do it? He never told me the reason, which is probably for the best – and sure, we’re friends now, but.. Doesn’t it say a lot about me? That Providence was both so hellbent on getting me to stay under their control and had no faith that anyone could be my friend, that they had to HIRE someone to be my friend? … Did he even like me? Am I really so unapproachable that they had to pay just for someone to tolerate me?”

His voice cracked HARD, and he sounds on the verge of tears – he’s wiping at his eyes in hopes that he doesn’t start crying, because that would be a TOTAL baby move. But he does have one more thing to say – even if it’s hushed, because he doesn’t really trust himself to speak at a normal volume right now.

“Am I really that bad…? ”

#HEY ANON TURN ON YOUR LOCATION I JUST WANNA TALK.#you just. really went for rex's jugular huh. well #hope you're happy with the answer :^)#civilian #⌠answered; ic⌡#⌠answered; ooc⌡

2 notes · View notes

hauntedcloset-blog1 · 6 years

Text

Something Macabre Something || Eddie and Reza

In which Eddie’s honest with both Reza and himself, Reza deals with feelings that are not appreciated, and the two decide to go on an adventure.

So much had happened in the past week and Eddie was currently still reeling from it. His encounter with Owen had left him having unpredictable mood swings and no one he could talk to. He felt more alone than usual, which was saying something. He missed Reza, but was forced to wonder if that bridge had been burned. After receiving the text from Reza that read, “ 'just leaving macabre, we'll find someplace less gross to meet “ a surge of hope rushed through him. Waiting any longer to see Reza would have been torture, so he sent him a response that insisted Macabre was fine and he was already out the door. Once he arrived, he entered the club to begin looking for his friend. Most of the patrons looked like they were straight out of Anne Rice novels, though Eddie wasn’t here for people-watching. As he scanned the crowd, someone bumped into him. Eddie turned to see who had collided with and noticed that they were munching on what looked like a very real human finger. “Oh, what the fuck.”

Meeting at Macabre was a shit idea, Reza was fully aware of that fact. He'd mostly just caved because he didn't want to argue about more things with Eddie; his mind was already brimming over with shit he needed to say and scolding the medium about how shitty macabre was... it didn't even reach the top five of the list. So he reluctantly hung around, wishing he had a change of clothes out of his very 2016-Reza outfit, designed to make him blend in and not arouse suspicion. Complete with eyeliner (though that was mostly smudged off. He hoped). Eventually he'd been forced outside for a smoke if only to escape the music making him queasy, returning inside and checking his phone as he did. No reply from Eddie yet... strange, Reza would have figured they should have met up outside to avoid -- exactly what was happening a few feet away. Pushing his way through the crowd before the vamp with the finger (real charming) switched it out for Eddie's neck, Reza was quick to grab his friend and physically push him in a different direction. "Come on," he muttered, not giving Eddie a chance to stop until they reached the slightly more quiet area of chairs, people to drunk to dance and feedings happening in the corner. Yeah, this was just a fucking great place to be.

It wasn’t until arriving at Macabre that Eddie realized how painfully aware of his own neck he could be. His shoulders raised defensively and he nearly gasped when he felt Reza’s hands on him. It was truly good to hear his voice again even if there was some annoyance in the mix. A small smile formed as he walked with Reza, making the decision to allow himself to begin to feel safe in spite of the fact that they had just reached the corner of Macabre where humans went to waste away. “Sorry, about... that.” Nerves were evident in his voice, a side effect of the past week. “I’ve heard stories about this place but, uh, didn’t expect anything quite like that.” Eddie eyed Reza for a moment, distracted by what he was currently wearing, but also very much aware of the fact that he pulled it off. The prolonged awareness of Reza’s physical form made Eddie give in to an urge he’d had for a while. He took a step closer and wrapped his arms around Reza’s mid-section. “Sorry, I’m a fucking idiot.”

"Yeah, well the stories are usually true around here so don't do anything stupid. Or more stupid," Reza added the last part as an afterthought because Eddie had definitely crossed the line of doing stupid things, to a point of the vampire judging him. It wasn't like Reza had the perfect track record necessary to be judging Eddie's choices of people to... hang with. Sociopathic drug dealing vampire probably ranked in a similar place to psychopathic slayer but... still. Starting to squirm under the gaze, a part of him having hoped that Eddie would just let the stupid outfit slide. Apparently not and apparently, he wasn't going to let 'staring' be enough to unnerve Reza. There was no preventing the way Reza's whole body tensed up in response to the hug, jaw clenching. "I'll forgive you if you just tone down the touching," he gritted out, even though he would have easily been able to push Eddie off. And push him over to the other side of the club for that matter but the guy had been hurt enough.

The wind had been knocked out of him by the overwhelmingly negative response he’d received from Reza. His arms retreated back to his sides as the illusion of safety that Reza’s presence had brought evaporated. “Sorry.” The music seemed louder than before and Eddie was beginning to feel less and less welcome. It occurred to him that this may have been the last thing Reza wanted. He hadn’t seemed to keen on talking in general, maybe he’d only agree to meet Eddie to be cordial. It hurt, there was no getting past that, but he knew that he only had himself to blame. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. It’s just... good to see you, I think.”

The hurt on Eddie's face made it look like he'd been slapped full force but Reza was finding it hard to reassure him, still reeling from the warmth and unexpected element of the hug. Not to mention that hugging felt almost... worse than the kiss way back, mostly because between the two, Eddie had (presumably) done more than just kissing to test the waters of his sexuality. "It's good to see you too, didn't expect you back in one piece." It slipped out, all the pent up frustration rolling off his tongue now that the he couldn't backspace every salty thing that came into his head. "Sorry, just... let's sit." Picking a table as far away from the corner of feeding as possible, filled with more memories than Reza cared to recall, he could still smell the faint scent of blood wafting over through the booze and sweat. "Are you okay?" he finally managed to ask, voice genuine once he'd put aside the odd feeling of anger, awkwardness and something that tickled just like jealousy.

It seemed strange to Eddie, the way Reza was reacting, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. “That makes two of us.” He responded as the disgust that had made it’s home inside of him grew just a bit more. A lot of retrospection had followed the night he’d spent with Owen which had thrown a wrench in his usually stable mood. At times, he wanted nothing more than to go back to Owen’s and do it all again, but sometimes he just hated himself. Not only had he fumbled and ended up literally sleeping with the enemy, but this meant that he was actually gay. There was no covering it up anymore. He wasn’t gonna end up with a wife and two kids, a mortgage, and pre-picked cemetery lot. That future had never truly enticed Eddie, but it didn’t scare him as much as this new one. Acting on auto-pilot, he sat across from Reza and nearly laughed at his question. “Fuck no.” He said with a laugh that was betrayed by the fact that he looked like he could burst into tears at any moment. “I... I think I ruined my own life, actually.”

An honest answer. Reza wasn't sure whether he'd wanted the classic 'I'm fine' lie so they could pretend things weren't shit, or not. But the answer doubled with the pained look Eddie was sporting had Reza waving something that looked mostly nonsensical over to the bar but had a very specific meaning. Just one beer because this conversation wasn't going to happen like this; despite Reza's multiple therapy session, he had no way of clearly communicating about this whatsoever. "Yeah, been there. Multiple times, actually." He sighed; someone as dysfunctional as him really shouldn't be giving anyone advice right now, especially not considering their short but very weird history. "You wanna... talk about it?" Just in time, the two beers were placed on the table, the smell making Reza's stomach flip with disgust and excitement; a bad combo.

Cue the violins, Eddie felt like he was going to have a mental breakdown in a public setting. “And I managed to fuck you over while fucking myself over. I am, truly, a word-class fuck up.” The club felt more crowded than it had previously. “And the thing is-- I wanted it. I did.” Speaking on this subject was clearly putting a strain on Eddie, but he had needed to stop holding it all in. “Now I feel fucking empty most of the time, more alone than usual, and yet... I wanna do it again. Not necessarily with... him, I just...” He trailed off for a moment, taking a drink of beer to give himself courage. Though he’d claimed that he hadn’t only been hoping of doing what he’d done with Owen once more, the slayer had been on his mind almost constantly. “So, yeah, secret’s out. I’m gay and I am egregiously fucked up about it.” There was snark embedded into his words but even that couldn’t mask the fact that he was currently holding back an onslaught of tears.

Well, he hadn't need much prodding... Reza sunk back in his seat, guilt seeping in because he'd left Eddie on his own to deal with all of that because he'd been selfishly angry at... what? The slayer? Or the fact that Eddie had in no minor way been more open to a stranger than he had with Reza? Maybe it was as simple as not wanting to watch Eddie go through the same shit Reza had back then because just hearing the desperate way the medium spoke... it was enough to make half of Reza's beer vanish pretty quickly. "My first kiss with a guy was in here. And he bit me as well and I thought it was fucking amazing. Until I got home and had to face my dad and felt like the scum of the earth so... what I'm trying to say is I know how you feel and I'm sorry for snapping at you." Rubbing at his face, fingers smudging with black, he continued. "I mean, I really thought I could take on a slayer myself, what a dumbass. Which shouldn't have been the fucking point anyway but rather that you... I don't know, that you were okay, or whatever." The glass was raised again to silence his rambling because was this even helping? Reza had no fucking idea. "To sum up, uhm... it's okay that you're gay. Obviously. Even more okay that you're fucked up over it." Less okay that you let a slayer fuck you but we all make mistakes. Yeah, no. Eddie was one mean comment away from crumbling, it seemed.

The apology had not been something Eddie was expecting, but it felt amazing to receive. But the worst wasn’t over. Reza knew about his actions and accepted them, but something told Eddie that he wouldn’t react the same way to his feelings. Owen had burrowed his way into Eddie’s brain and even he knew that was a slippery slope to something much worse. So, he chose not to tell Reza about how badly he wanted to message the slayer or to just show up at his house unannounced and lacking motives other than just wanting to see him. Things that Owen had said seemed to have tattooed themselves in the folds of his brain. He’d find himself laughing or smiling to himself until he realized how fucked he was; then all he felt was dread. Eddie’s eyes carefully watched as Reza wiped away at his makeup, choosing to fixate on his friend rather than become overwhelmed by the crowd. “You’re really important to me, okay?” He’d glazed over what Reza said mostly in the name of self-preservation. “I don’t know why the universe decided it was time for you to pay your dues and saddled you with me, but I’m glad it did. So, I don’t really care what you did, I’m just happy you’re here. Kinda thought I’d lost you for a second there.”

"Nah, someone still has to chaperone you around Ashkent so you don't get yourself killed," Reza muttered into his beer, trying to brush aside the complete absurdity of this whole situation. Wondering what the hell it looked like to an outsider - probably the worst date in history. Or an apology date, for that matter. Which made sense, considering the sinking gut feeling Reza had, making him feel cheated on. Not in the soul wrenching, heart stopping way he'd felt when he'd actually been cheated on (which would have been a really weird reaction so thank fuck for that) but still shit. In accordance to all that, it probably wasn't too much of a surprise when the unnecessary question slipped out. It had only needed a nudge from a single beer, empty glass getting abandoned on the table. "So what exactly did you do?"

Eddie had been carefully taking a sip of his beer when his brain registered Reza’s question. He nearly choked but managed to recover after shooting his friend an almost horrified expression. “What did I do?” He stalled, wondering if he should actually unleash the gory details. “I mean, we didn’t-- we didn’t go all the way or anything.” Suddenly, he felt like he was in high school again. He wondered how long it would for Reza to ask if ‘like-liked’ Owen. “We just...” Every word that came to mind was vulgar; he didn’t want to subject his friend to that. In an odd way, he felt like he had wronged Reza by acting on such urges. Even if Owen wasn’t a slayer, there would still be guilt. “Well, first he...you know, oral.” He wasn’t even speaking in complete sentences. “And then I returned the favor.” Eddie was bright red.

Reza was painfully aware of how shitty the question had been, the point proven by Eddie almost choking. Despite that, there wasn't a real urge to retract the question while the other man stalled. He could have; just brushed it off as an impulse thing, they could have talked about literally anything else but alas. This weird drive to know what had happened wasn't really explainable, at least not further than just morbid curiosity and perhaps forcing Eddie to say these things out loud. Which he did and Reza finally regretted asking. "Hmm," came the eloquent response, hand wrapping tightly around the empty glass - not too tightly, he'd learned from his accident with Reed. "Interesting." What the fuck was he even saying? As unnecessary as the first question had been, Reza found a second one popping into his mind. One that he actually knew he needed the answer to. "Did he make you?" Reza asked the bottom of his glass, not watching Eddie but hearing the way his heart was hammering away. This couldn't be what the medium had wanted out of this little pow-wow but there was no avoiding the subject. Reza felt personally involved and aside from that, he didn't want Eddie making the same mistakes he had.

It became apparent to Eddie that Reza had become an expert at shocking him. The events of the night spent at Owen’s flashed before his eyes as he analyzed every choice he had made. The corner of his heart that had latched onto Owen was appalled, it wanted Reza to know that Owen would never do anything like that to Eddie. Though, if Eddie were to be completely honest, he wasn’t entirely sure what Owen was capable of. “No, he didn’t make me.” Eddie spoke slowly, not able to will himself to make eye contact. “No, I-- I wanted it. I think I even made the first actual move,” omitting wandering hands at least, “and I... enjoyed it even if it was a little strange. He wouldn’t...” Eddie sighed. “Well, he didn’t.”

"Well, that's... good." Not very convincing, even though it was obviously good that Eddie had been making his own decisions. Even though the fact that Eddie had willingly made those shit decisions was making Reza's stomach churn. This was Bridget and Veronica all over again, only Veronica hadn't literally threatened to kill him. At least she'd somewhat cared that Reza hadn't murdered anyone yet. "See, this is why I didn't want to talk about my whole thing with Noah because it's weird. Right? This feels pretty fucking weird to me at least," Reza rambled. His head was starting to hurt but at least the mention of Noah was like a tiny weight lifting, reminding him of the chance he still might just have. Granted that he wasn't out here getting... well, fucking jealous to say it as is, at his friend sleeping around. "Like I wanna say I'm happy for you but that guy's not any better than the pricks I work for so... maybe we can settle on me definitely not hating you?"

Guilt squeezed Eddie’s heart as a grim reminder that it hadn’t gone anywhere. “It’s weird.” He agreed with a slight nod. “I think that’s mostly my fault. I mean, needless to say that my choice making skills are questionable at best. I guess this’ll just be another installment of what happens when you follow people that don’t really want you around.” Sadness swirled in his stomach which prompted him to finally finish off his beer. “I don’t expect you to be happy for me, I’m not even sure if I’m happy for me yet. But, and maybe I shouldn’t say this, I am still unbelievably grateful that you were one of my firsts at least. I think about that conversation we had about what life would have been like if we’d gone to high school together and it probably would have been a hot fucking mess, but thinking about it usually makes me smile or whatever. Though, I would be the fucking worst white knight.”

Seeing Eddie down his beer had Reza waving for a second round, almost out of pure instinct. It wasn't the best idea but he'd be careful. He knew he could be, now that he actually had something (or someone) to lose from being a fuck up. "I want you around," Reza mumbled, brushing off just how much he meant that statement and latching onto Eddie's follow up train of thought. "I'm kinda glad we didn't, to be honest. You would have just been another straight guy for me to be in denial about crushing on and on top of that, you would have had to deal with me like this." Reza gestured to the 'even darker than usual' ensemble, over the top amount of rings, complete with a stupid belt buckle and studded army boots and honestly, he should have just gone full out and thrown a fucking colored streak into his hair. At least he wasn't wearing a full length trenchcoat like... well, an alarming amount of people in here. "So, yeah. You would have been a shitty white knight and I would have denied ever needing a fucking rescue." And a saving grace, in the form of two more beers.

For a moment, a stupidly happy grin appeared on Eddie’s face. Verbal conformation that he was wanted coupled with Reza reeling him back to reality. He almost felt normal again. “For what it’s worth,” Eddie shrugged as a playful expression emerged on his face, “you kinda pull it off at least. And I’m only saying ‘kinda’ so I don’t fully embarrass myself.” He sipped at his beer. “Being a white knight sounds exhausting anyway.”

Alright, they could do this. Just have a normal conversation, two guys drinking beers and not talking about oral sex with slayers (or thinking about it, fucking stop). "Don't be turning into a fucking liar for my benefit, Ghost Whisperer," Reza chuckled, metal clinking against the glass as his hands wrapped around it. "Yeah, it probably is. Not to mention that it's mostly fucking impossible. I mean, white knight? Wouldn't that mean you'd have to be like... perfect? I think a morally ambiguous gray knight is definitely more up my alley and also, I don't fucking know where I'm going with this so fucking cheers." Clinking his glass against Eddie's before taking a few sips, Reza ignored the shit taste in lieu of the comfort. Which he wasn't going to get used to again.

Eddie grinned at the nickname he’d received from Reza. It was odd to hear his abilities talked about in such a cavalier manner, but it was nice. “Mostly, I think you just have to see yourself as perfect, which is probably why it seems so impossible for us.” He punctuated his statement with a laugh though it was an honest remark. Eddie’s only source of self-esteem came from his looks which he worked on endlessly. Anything was just another bullet point on the list of things he hated about himself.

"Yeah, let's promise to never go there," Reza scoffed. Seeing yourself as perfect wasn't a quality Reza admired and there were plenty of people who fit that description dancing around in here. His eyes wandered around the club for a little too long, regretting just how well he knew this place. "I think I've spent too much time here." Drowning the pathetic statement with some beer, Reza tried and failed to ignore the wistful looks their table was starting to get - or Eddie, more specifically. Just another blood bag in a lot of the vamp's eyes. Reza was getting squirmy. "Hey, didn't you say you wanted me to show you arund a few places in Ashkent?"

Perfection had been something that Eddie aimed to achieve for years. It was only now that he was slowly beginning to settle into himself that what he once saw as inadequacy was actually individuality. He’d only said that he was gay out loud once, but the admission was already starting to have an effect on his brain chemistry. It felt like he’d finally shrugged the weight of the world off his shoulders even if he was painfully aware that his struggle came without an expiration date. Eddie perked up when Reza mentioned that he’d spent too much time in Macabre. He wasn’t quite ready to part ways, so the question that soon followed brought an immense grin to Eddie’s face. “I thought you’d never ask.”

#touchofchatzy #c: reza #something macabre something

2 notes · View notes

sher-soc-the-famder · 6 years

Text

The Show Must Go On- Chapter 7

Word Count: 4863

Pairings: Gen, Platonic LAMP, Platonic Roman&OC, Platonic Virgil&OC

Warnings: No warnings

Masterpost

Read on AO3 <– Previous Chapter Next Chapter –>

“You’re certain?” Victoria directed to his phone and Roman could hear the way that Mr. Schneider rolled his eyes. They had been going back and forth on the issue for the past ten minutes and Roman just wanted to snatch his phone back and babble to the director about everything; the production, how it was going, or even how he was supposed to deal with the fact that they were making zero progress in almost a week and a half.

But Victoria was asking him about general records and what the capitol library would have on them, since Roman certainly wasn’t going to be the one to go through them. He would if he absolutely had to; but until it reached that point, he was going to wander through the city and parks, trying to follow his own feelings back to Virgil.

Because it had worked so well so far.

“They do in fact, keep a general census on record. Whether or not you can reach them depends on the state. You’re a smart kid, Double; you’ll figure it out,” Mr Schneider said dryly. “This should be nothing compared to talking people through their problems.”

“Har har har,” Victoria returned and ran a hand through her curls. “But alright. Thanks Professor; terrorize some students for me.”

“I don’t do it for you, kid,” Mr Schneider said snarkily, “I do it for the sweet tears of my students. I’m just teaching them how to survive at life.”

“Whatever you say, Sir,” Roman snickered, and outright laughed as Victoria shoved him off his chair. He ignored the ache in his chest; it was something he lived with now anyways. “I’m not the one who decided to take his courses, Victoria Sawyer.”

She sniffed, “Excuse you, I would never date someone like J.D.”

Roman felt his smile falter for a half second– (J.D-lightful)– before he forced himself to say, “Oh I wouldn’t cross out the possibility. He’s tall, lanky, got long hair—”

Victoria let out an inarticulate screech and Mr. Schneider sighed, “I’d rather not hear about your love lives if it’s all the same to you.” Roman snickered again, wondering how much of his attitude was an act and how much was him trying to forget his pain and—

“I can hear you think from here, Trouble,” the director added. “Leave Double to it, and let me tell you how horrible my newest lead is.”

Roman glanced up at Victoria and she made a shooing motion at him, turning to grab her own phone and likely leave to enter the library to continue her search. He didn’t waste a moment, snatching the phone up and turning the speaker off.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he sing-songed, striding away from the bench and towards the park he had caught sight of on their way over.

“Of course not,” Mr Schneider murmured, “you never do.”

“Hey!” Roman yelped, but couldn’t help the goofy grin that crossed his face. It wasn’t often that the director had time away from both of his jobs, but Roman adored every moment he did. “I am an exceptional actor!”

He could hear the quirk of Mr. Schneider’s lips as he replied, “You most certainly are. Speaking of which, you should see this idiot on the stage, he can’t—”

Roman leaned his head back to let the autumn wind run through his hair, and grinned at the clouds that littered the sky. His director’s voice was a simple comfort and Roman couldn’t help but laugh at his complaining, shooting something teasing back to his mentor before a certain movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention.

“Kid?” Mr. Schneider prodded as Roman trailed off. “Is something wrong?”

Roman bit down on the words that sprang to his lips at that and chirped out, “Nope! Just thought I saw a Broadway actor. But I was betrayed at the last moment and it was only a trick of the light.”

“If you say so, Trouble,” Mr. Schneider replied, falling back into an amused tone. Roman gasped, “And I do! I am a prince of the utmost respect! How dare you accuse me of such dishonesty! I would never–!”

“You would,” Mr Schneider cut him off with a chuckle. “You’re a good kid, but you’re an actor, first and foremost. Lying’s in your blood.”

Roman blinked at that, and rolled his eyes. “So you always say, but being an actor doesn’t mean we really lie, per se. The actors and the audience both know that what they are about to see isn’t real. After all, the audience knows that they’re going to see a play and nothing more.”

“Do they always though?” Schneider countered. “All the world’s a stage, kid. Who’s to say we’re not always acting? You are a walking example of that, kid — after all, you’re not always as confident as you portray yourself to be.”

Roman’s eyes flickered over the to the kid that he saw move at the edge of his vision once more. He swallowed the thick feeling in his throat that the director’s words caused.

“It looks like Vic needs something from me,” he lied, ignoring the rock that settled on his chest. “We'll call you back later, Sir.”

He hung up before the man could say more, and immediately rocked on his heels from the wave of guilt that hit him. Schneider was just trying to help—to look at Roman and what he could do to improve as he always did—but Roman wasn’t in the mood for even constructive criticism at the moment.

Besides, there was something more important to focus on.

He shoved his hands into his jean pockets, his phone with them, and let his cape swirl around his shoulders as he walked steadily around the park. Once, twice; listening as the small footsteps behind him grew closer each time. He had to swallow down a smile, and wondered how much the others would have adored this kid.

He made it halfway through the next lap before the kid settled in next to him. Roman really did smile then, keeping his eyes ahead as the kid studied him from the corner of his eye.

“Same,” the child murmured, a breath on the wind. There was a tinge of disbelief in his tone.

“Excuse you–” Roman couldn’t stop himself– “but I am one of a kind!” He winced and cursed himself for leaping ahead without thinking. It was going to be Virgil all over again. Roman was just, apparently, incapable of being calm around people who needed him to be.

The kid blinked at him, visibly startled before an amused smirk crossed his face, there and gone against like mist in the morning. It felt familiar but was shaped too wrong for him to figure out where it was from.

“Not,” he said and Roman tried to control his screech he really, really did.

“Am too!” His hands flailed in the air before freezing as the kid flinched back form the sudden movement.

“Ah.” He blinked, and gritted his teeth against a wave of anger. He took a deep breath and murmured, “My apologies.”

The kid shrugged as he dropped his hands and whispered, “Not you, not that.”

Roman blinked, trying to work through the short words. The kid shrugged again and waved at him.

“Just–” He bit his lips and Roman wanted to ruffle his hair as his nose scrunched up. “Thanks.”

Roman took his turn at shrugging, feeling a flush creep up his ears at the frank gratitude.

“Well, a prince can’t just leave others in trouble! Every citizen is to be cared for! What else is royalty for?”

The kid studied him again, and for a moment, it wasn’t Virgil looking at him, but Logan. The thought made Roman wanted to cry. Odin’s breath, he missed them all.

The kid hummed and his hand twitched, like he was unsure of what he wanted to do with it before he waved again and turned to disappear into the city once more.

Roman felt his hand raise to hold him back before it dropped again. He tugged the scarf on his neck a little bit higher up on his face, and wrapped his cape around his shoulders a little tighter.

Maybe if he joined Vic in the library he wouldn’t feel so cold. Maybe he wouldn't feel so alone.

Victoria leaned back in her chair. She scrubbed at her hair, wrinkling her nose as a few ginger strands came loose. The library's silence pressed down at her and Vic grit her teeth. If she strained to listen, she could hear a few muted whispers through the stacks of books; but for the most part she was alone.

Ha, as if this weren't exactly what was going to happen at the end of this.

She shook her head, trying to dislodge that thought. The first census sat in front of her, just like it had when she had first entered and pulled it out. If she could only get started,—get the ball rolling down the hill—she would forget the exhaustion that pulled at her bones like stones dragging her down into the ocean.

Not that drowning sounded like a bad idea at the moment.

Vic sighed. She propped her arms against the desk she was borrowing and poked at the papers in front of her. She stared at her hand and willed it to flip the page to look at the next one. She just wanted a simple motion, goddammit. It wasn't that hard. So why did it feel like trying to climb a mountain?

She took a shuddering breath and let her head fall down to rest against the desk. Because she was broken and couldn't get by without calling her therapist. Only Picani wasn't exactly her therapist anymore; it was a little hard to set up appointments when going on an Epic Quest.

Too bad books and stories never mentioned that part of being a hero.

If Victoria could even be considered that.

Roman was the hero between the two of them. The prince; the Chosen One who would go on an adventure to save the world. Finding his brothers was only the start of this, she could feel it deep in her soul. Roman had great things in store for him, great and terrible things.

Victoria was just his chauffeur. His depressed chauffeur.

She blinked rapidly and swiped at her face. She tried to dig up old techniques that Picani had taught her but everything other than the page in front of her felt like static. Which was just- exactly how her life went, and how it was going to go. It always made her feel like the scum of the earth because Roman was the one who had it worse than her, but he always greeted the day with a smile, real or not.

God, why couldn't she be like him?

She closed her eyes and grit her teeth. Whatever. She'd let her thoughts run however they would.

"Hey."

Vic jumped at the voice that came from behind her. Roman grinned, and raised an eyebrow.

"Who was that?" he asked. Vic blinked at him as he flopped into the chair next to her's, propping his legs up on part of the table. She whacked at his shoes lightly, which only earned her an even brighter smile. She smiled back at him, and wondered at his ability to cheer her up whatever she was thinking.

"Who was what?" she asked.

"You know." Roman pointed at the phone in front of her and Vic wondered when she had pulled that out. She must be more out of it than she had originally thought. "On the phone. Who was it?"

"I wasn't on the phone?" Victoria replied.

Roman blinked at her.

"Huh. Okay, I could have sworn that you were talking to someone; but go off, I guess."

"Oh fuck you," Vic said breezily. "You shouldn't have snuck up on me, I could have dropped my croissant."

Roman cackled, and Vic grinned at the shushing noise that came from the librarian’s desk a few shelves down. She flicked Roman’s ankle gently before reaching for the census in front of her. She had quite a lot of work to do if they wanted to find Virgil.

And strangely, for the first time since they had reached Springfield, Victoria felt like they’d find Virgil there. The thought settled deep in her brian and stayed there, as if planted simply by the idea that she could track Virgil’s history here in the library.

She would do it. She had to.

It was a labyrinth, and Virgil felt a part of him relax. It wasn’t a good dream, but it wasn’t a nightmare either; just the endless alleys of his city, twisting unrecognizably the longer that he walked. His footsteps echoed in the emptiness, and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his warn jacket.

“Oh wow,” Roman commented, striding along beside him and ignoring the fact that Virgil startled, stumbling back. “I knew you were an emo nightmare, not that you actually had any.”

He paused. “Then again, I think I was the only one to ‘have’ dreams; at least in the sense that I created them for Thomas.”

Virgil gritted his teeth and picked up his pace, hoping that Roman would leave him alone if he did. The doppelganger was simple a figment of his self consciousness; he wasn’t real.

“Rude,” the figment muttered as he effortlessly kept up with him.

“Leave me the fuck alone,” Virgil muttered, and in turn ignored the wave of hurt that radiated from the figment much like Roman had ignored his fear. He hunched farther into himself, taking a turn at random, and tried to ignore the other male who watched him closely. It was too sharp—too knowing—and Virgil was too used to the idea that he needed to hide in order to feel comfortable.

“Any idea where you’re going, Dead-alus?” Roman asked, and Virgil flinched again.

“Does it matter in the end?” he grumbled back, before slamming his mouth shut. He needed to stop feeding whatever the hell this was. Besides, it would always end up the same, in that—

Virgil gasped awake, the sudden jerk jostling Richard off of his shoulders. The kid yelped, fingers scraping along the wall as he hauled himself upwards.

"Attack? Alright? Run?" Richard shot off rapid fire. His eyes raked across the alleyway to check for dangers even as Virgil pressed a hand to his own face to hold back tears.

He just wanted it to stop.

"I'm fine," he rasped. "I'm fine, just- Just go back to sleep kid. Everything's– " gucci.

He bit down on his cheek hard enough to taste blood.

That was Roman's word, and Virgil hated that he knew that. It was insane. He was insane. People didn't just have personifications of themselves in their head. Those figments didn't just take lives of their own. It wasn't possible. It wasn't.

Virgil tried to breath, the action rattling in his chest as Richard's smaller hands tugged on his own. He let Richard manhandle him into a more comfortable position, the kid practically crawling into his lap and wrapping Virgil's hands around his shoulders like a demented blanket. Demented, heh; that's exactly what he was.

"Not alright," Richard murmured. "Will be."

"Yeah," Virgil tried to agree, the word getting caught in his throat. He couldn't even be the responsible adult in this relationship, that's how pathetic he was.

The same dreams—he wouldn't classify them quite as nightmares—plagued him for weeks and he could barely function anymore. He had been better than this.

Death—his own death played on repeat over and over again—was something he could deal with; something he had dealt with for as long as he could remember.

The feeling of being dragged away from warmth and safety, someone screaming his name, a hand trying to grasp his only to slip away, and then a rippling pain along his chest and head.

Virgil figured that it was some long forgotten memory. Something that he had repressed out of trauma like he did half his life.

Only Roman's voice was starting to sound an awful lot like the the one he had been hearing all of his life, and Virgil refused to let his brain finish connecting that thought. He couldn't deal with it. He knew himself; he knew how badly he'd crumple if he thought about what was probably the truth, and Richard still needed him. Or at least pretended to and Virgil would take what he could get.

Some truths were better off forgotten.

"Home," Richard suggested for the second time that month.

Virgil leaned forward, resting his forehead against Richard's head. His brain felt like it was stuffed full of cotton; enough so that the normal clamoring of danger he would have had fell silent — a welcome relief for all that he felt almost like he was drifting through life.

Going home would mean he'd feel safe and if he felt safe, he'd fall asleep again; and Virgil didn't want to sleep again.

But at the same time, he couldn't dredge up the energy to argue with the kid at the moment.

So he nodded, pliant and exhausted. He wanted to die — or maybe not die, but for someone to bludgeon his head until he fell into a dreamless coma for the next year or two. Maybe then he'd be able to rest without feeling guilty.

Between Richard, and the nagging feeling that if he fell asleep someone would snatch him away, and Roman, with the fear and deja vu the dream figment brought —Virgil just wanted a moment to himself where he could drift into nothingness.

He blinked sluggishly as Richard stood up and grasped his arm, trying to haul him to his feet.

"Home," Richard repeated again, firmer this time and Virgil sighed.

"Alright, kid," he murmured and swayed as he got to his feet. "We'll go home."

He took a stumbling step forward. Richard made a concerned noise in the back of his throat, urging him to hurry up and Virgil hissed at him. The kid scowled and nudged him again until Virgil could move at what was a sort of normal walk.

Something moved out of the corner of his eye and Virgil stiffened.

"Richard—" he warned, and Richard bit the bottom of his lip.

"Bait," he whispered, and Virgil felt the breath rush from his lungs as if he had been stabbed.

"No, kid don't you dare—"

"Faster," Richard whispered back heatedly. "Know more. Small. Won't catch. Meet at home."

"Fucking hate you," Virgil snarled back as Richard stepped away from him, "You're going to get up both killed. Or worse, caught. Get back here and we'll figure out a place to hide until they go away."

"I'm right and you know it," Richard added, and fuck, the kid knew he was weak against full sentences.

Before he had a chance to reply, Richard smiled at him, small and sad before disappearing down the other end of the alley with a purposely loud clatter.

Fuck.

“Okay,” Victoria said, sliding a piece of paper over the counter towards Roman, and taking a deep breath. Roman paused, a leaf of his salad drifting off of his fork as he blinked at her. “I’ve found twenty one Virgil’s in the state of Illinois and of that, only three have a name similar to Sanders.”

The fork clattered loudly as Roman dropped it without a thought, hand snatching the paper from its resting place. He scanned through the words, skipping over everything he deemed unimportant (which was most of it) and settled on one highlighted part.

“He’s here,” he murmured and felt a grin grow on his face.

The last known whereabouts of the young orphan Virgil Sanders was Springfield, Illinois; where he is thought to have run away from his newest foster home—

Victoria’s mouth twisted downwards. “I mean, he could be. Or he could be anywhere, seeing as that article is over five years old.”

Roman shook his head. “No. No, Virgil would stay where he’s comfortable. Leaving would mean more risks and things he doesn’t know about, especially without Logan. He’d find a place to hole up and stay there. A…”

He paused and felt a soft smile crawl up his face as the memory struck him.

“He’d stay in his bubble.”

Victoria's brow furrowed before she nodded.

“So that means–” She cut herself off, and her head snapped up a grin growing on her own face. Roman grinned back at her, feeling his cheeks ache.

“We’re so damn close,” he whispered back and Victoria whooped, throwing her hands in the air. She brought them back down and reached out, hooking her hands through his own. The silk of the gloves she wore were soft as he squeezed back, food forgotten between them.

“What sort of places does he like? We can start there, and narrow our search through the city,” she added, voice bubbling with excitement. “If he hasn’t gone far then we should be able to get through it in a couple of days, weeks at most. Springfield isn’t that big.”

One of the better dressed patrons glanced at them and the racket they were making, and Roman fought down the urge to flip them off in honor of Virgil’s need to fight The Man, promptly ignoring them.

“A map!” Roman added, already hauling his friend to her feet, “We can mark a map–”

“–and keep track of all the different places we’ve checked before!” Victoria finished triumphantly and raised a hand for a high five. Roman gladly returned it, slinging an arm over her shoulder as they left. He blinked as the patron that had looked at them stood up as well. It wasn’t that strange that they were leaving as well, but something about them nagged at the edge of his brain.

“You’re gonna love him,” Roman promised, letting the thought drift away as the patron did. “He likes to make poor judgement calls about my ideas, like you do. As if I could do anything less than perfect.”

Victoria's smile tightened for the fraction of a second before she nudged him lightly. “Of course, how could we be so foolish. The epitome of perfection was in front of us all along and we never figured it out. How could we be so blind?”

“Exactly,” Roman agreed with an exaggerated sniff. “The problem is with you and not with me.”

Victoria's laugh echoed out through the street, and Roman tightened his grip around her shoulders. Someone crossed the corner of his vision again, and he blinked as yet another man in a suit fell into step behind them. It wasn’t anything huge, they were walking through a city after all, but he stiffened at the sight involuntarily.

Victoria's arm slipped around his waist in return, and his eyes flickered down to meet the question in her eyes.

“Though I suppose that since you’d follow me anywhere, you can’t be completely blind to my perfection,” Roman added slyly. Victoria nodded grimly at him, with a slight bob of her head, and Roman wanted to scream to the world about how amazing his best friend was. She followed easily as they drifted towards a more crowded street, keeping up mindless chatter - something about one of her CPR certification class or psychology as Roman kept an eye on their tail.

There was a man following them.

Something darted around the next corner, and Roman almost felt like groaning at the familiar head of hair. Amber eyes pecked out at him, and quietly gestured emphatically for the two to follow him. Roman hesitated for a split second, before steering Victoria in the direction the kid led them.

They made a sharp turn into an alleyway, and Roman opened his mouth to question the kid on what the Nyx’s arm was going on, when the kid pressed a finger to his lips. Roman’s lip thinned into a white line, but he bit down on his tongue. Footsteps neared their position, and the kid tugged on his cape.

Roman blinked at him, and the kid scowled, tugging on it harder. Roman glanced up to meet Victoria’s equally confused gaze. The kid’s eyes grew more panicked as their tag along grew closer and he tugged on the cape one last time before ducking under it, waving at Vic to follow his example.

She shrugged, and Roman lifted an arm to sweep the cape up and over them both, mouth gaping as the cloth seemed to extend. It rose and almost danced on a non-existent wind,settling around the three of them just as the man turned the corner. Roman could feel Victoria’s breath hitch from where she was pressed up against his chest, but the man’s eyes skipped over their position. He reached up and pressed a hand to his ear, muttering rapidly and quietly enough that Roman couldn’t quite make out what he said. Before he knew it, the man in the suit walked away.

The kid ducked out from under his cape and let out a slow breath, his eyes still a little wild as he watched the entrance to the alleyway.

“Huh,” Victoria murmured, fingering the cape. “Magic. Alright, so that’s a thing. Congrats on the invisibility cape, Harry.”

“MAGIC?!” Roman screeched and then bite down on as both of his companions glared at him. He slammed a hand against his mouth.

“Magic is real?!” He bounced on the balls of his feet, not sure if he was terrified or out of his mind with excitement because magic. If magic was real, what else was?

“I mean,” Victoria pointed out dryly, “I thought it would be rather obvious, with you know, the whole point of our trip in the first place.”

“But still!” He babbled, and giggled, “Magic, Vic, Magic!”

She let out a fond sigh and patted his arm, before her eyes flickered over to the child who watched them quietly and warily. She eyed him, long and hard enough that Roman winced, wondering if it was one of those times he’d need to interfere.

Instead she crouched down, and laid her hands on her thighs.

“Hey there kid, what’s your name? I’m Victoria.”

The kid glanced between the two of them, eyes flicking up to Roman, back to Victoria and then up again. He chewed on his lip lightly and then, when he seemed to realize he was doing it, brought his thumb up to chew on the nail instead.

After a long moment, the quiet voice spoke up. “Richard.”

“Well Richard,” Victoria replied, curt but not sharp, “thank you for helping us get away from that man. Do you think you can tell us who he is?”

Richard’s eyes flickered up to Roman’s again, something unreadable in his eyes before he shook his head almost violently. His hands shook and Victoria made a soothing noise from the back of her throat as Roman adjusted his cape once more.

“Hey, hey it’s fine,” Victoria replied, her hands coming up slowly to show her palms. “You don't have to tell us anything, alright? You helped us out, and it wouldn’t be fair to you to press further, but we’d appreciate it.”

The kid blinked, his brow furrowed in confusion before he shook his head again and took a step back. He shook his head again and then turned on his heel, disappearing into the shadows. Roman took a step after him, before Victoria's hand held him back.

“Victoria!” he snapped. “What gives?”

Her eyes never left the spot the kid disappeared and murmured, “I don't know, I don’t trust him.”

“You don't trust anyone,” Roman snapped back, and took a moment to relish in her flinch before the guilt hit him.

“He knows something Vic,” he wheedled instead. “Magic could help us find the others, especially if it’s the reason we’re apart in the first place.”

Her lips thinned, and she replied curtly, “I know. But he kept looking at you. Why only you?”

“He knows me,” Roman countered, feeling his own anger build. “We’ve met before briefly, and he thought I was harmless enough. Besides, it’s not like you're not the friendliest person at first.”

That was a line he never should have crossed. Roman watched as her eyes dropped, shoulders hunching in on themselves.

“Oh– oh god, Vic, I didn’t—”

He reached a hand out to her and she shrugged it off, standing to her full height.

“We should get started on that map,” she said flatly, as she turned her back on him. “We have work to do.”

Roman let his hand drop and bit his lip, jaw clenching as he followed his best friend out ot the alleyway. And even then, with the guilt practically dripping off of his fingertips, he couldn’t help but turn to look, wondering if Richard was still there. Amber eyes met his own, and then disappeared once more.

Roman took a deep breath, and left.

#Sanders sides #TSMGO #Urban Fantasy AU #Roman Sanders #Virgil Sanders #OC: Victoria #OC: Richard #TS-Storytime 2018 Submission

6 notes · View notes

jjkfire · 7 years

Text

Wrapped Around; pt.5

Jimin x Reader x Tae // College!AU // 12.6k words

Summary: Freshman year was a mess and sophomore year doesn’t seem to be looking too good either. You know boys like them are no good for you but maybe they’re just your kind of type

Genre: Fluff, Angst

A/N: weow 1 month later here is part 5!! thank you for your patience ya dumplings (’:

Previously…

Tae was right, he warned you to watch yourself around him and you felt so dumb, so hurt that you had let yourself become one of those girls. You had sworn that you wouldn’t let Jimin get to you but here you were sitting in your bed feeling as broken as all the other girls that had slept with the player that was Park Jimin. Stupid, stupid you.

Glancing at the time on your phone, you pick up the pace of your steps. Your cousin had given you 10 minutes to get to the restaurant before he makes you buy your own meal. The cold winter air bites at your skin as you sprint towards the entrance of the diner, hoping and praying that the heater had been turned on to its highest setting in there. You were so cold that you were sure your fingers were going to fall off at any point now but damn it you’d do anything for free food.

Stepping into the diner, you let out a sigh of relief at the wave of warm air that hits you. Honestly, how can anyone enjoy winter when it’s so horridly cold? You shrug off your hood, eyes scanning the establishment as you look for your cousin.

“Y/N!”

Damn.

“Mina,” You smile stiffly as you watch her drape her coat over the back of her chair.

“You made it!” She beams and you hesitate for a while before walking over to take a seat next to your cousin who only looks at you in shock. “I told you she would!” She exclaims, turning to your cousin who now had his head in his hands.

“Crap, I can’t believe you actually got here in time,” Your cousin groans as he pulls out his wallet to count the number of bills he had. “Remind me to never underestimate your will when it comes to getting free food.”

“I told you not to bet against me, didn’t I?” You laugh, trying your best to cover the look of disdain as you sit across Mina, envy running through your veins at the mere sight of her.

“Whatever,” Your cousin huffs, dismissing you with a wave of his hand before he turns to Mina. “What’re you doing here so late anyway?” He asks.

“Well I could ask the same,” She quips.

“We had a busy night so we got up pretty late.”

“Huh, what a coincidence… Me too,” She smirks and you let your fingernails dig into your palm, wishing nothing more than to wipe that smirk off her face.

Your eyes scan the menu, choosing to stay silent as you do so and you genuinely hope that Mina can’t tell that you were groaning internally at the thought of having to eat lunch with her. For the first time, you’re honestly thankful for your cousin’s ability to talk for days on end, his stories keeping Mina pre-occupied as you device a plan to get out of this situation.

You rest your cheek on the palm of your hand after letting the waitress take your order, your mind slowly drifting off to numerous other thoughts, anything to distract yourself from replaying the memory of a haphazard looking Jimin skipping out of Mina’s house.

“So, what happened last night? Your aunt, is she okay?”

There’s a long silence before you realize that Mina is staring at you, waiting for an answer and you blink your eyes, still in a slight daze while your cousin shakes his head at you disapprovingly. “She’s still half asleep,” He laughs.

“Yeah, she had an allergic reaction to the crawfish,” Your cousin finally answers. “But it’s nothing too serious, she’s fine now,” He smiles and Mina nods her head quietly.

The three of you exchange passive glances, a slightly awkward silence hanging in the air now and you panic a little because the other two must’ve noticed by now that you’ve been awfully quiet today. You glance back at the kitchen, silently hoping that the food would be served soon so you had an excuse for not wanting to speak. You stare longingly at the entrance of the kitchen but when there’s no movement, you turn back towards the table only to find Mina looking at you expectantly. You know she wants you to ask her about her night but you honestly didn’t want to hear about any of it. She beams at you, her beady eyes lit up with excitement and you relent because you didn’t want her to grow suspicious. Taking a deep breath, you ask the question in the most upbeat tone you can muster.

“How was the rest of the ball?”

“It was so fun!” She squeals. “Jimin and I danced all night and then we went back to my place,” She giggles sheepishly as she unwraps the scarf that was hanging around her neck.

You spot the hickey right away and you guess that was Mina’s intention because she smirks at you when your eyes finally meet hers. Your blood boils at the sight and you clench your fists slightly under the table and you know she’s waiting for you, waiting for you to ask her how she got it but no, this time you won’t give in.

“And then what happened?” Your cousin questions, eyes fixed on the mark on her neck.

Goddamn it. Why did he have to ask?

“Then he went down on me and we did the dirty deed. All. Night. Long,” She winks, punctuating the latter part of her sentence with a small pause between each word for dramatic effect. “I’m surprised the both of you didn’t hear us,” She smirks and you couldn’t help but let out a light laugh at the expression on your cousin’s face.

“Well I sure as hell am glad that I didn’t,” He scoffs.

Me too, cousin, me too.

Mina goes on and on about every detail of the night, starting from the ball and the flirty whispers that they had shared, to the way he undressed her. You were on the brink of grabbing the menu to hit her on the side of her head to make her stop but you only look at her wistfully because you’ve seen this one too many times. She reminded you of all the girls back on campus who were enamored with Jimin and you laugh internally because you guess both you and Mina are now members of that club too.

More than that, you’re laughing because she reminds you of yourself. You want to tell her that she shouldn’t get her hopes up, that he was going to leave her high and dry but the genuine happiness on her face keeps you from saying anything. So, you listen, listen to her talk about how his lips felt on hers, how his hands roamed her body and you tried your best to block out the mental image of him doing the very same thing to you justa few weeks ago. You tried your best to ignore the sharp pain that sat in the middle of your chest when you remember what it felt like to wake up with his arms wrapped around your middle but no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t get rid of the image of his stupid bed head hair and his stupid smile.

In an attempt to calm yourself down, you glance at your phone to reply a few texts and though you weren’t paying full attention to Mina’s story, you hear just enough of it to fully register that you hate Park Jimin. You hate him with every single fibre of your being.

“I can’t believe Y/N came for the ball especially after the whole speech she gave about how much she hated events like that,” Hoseok chuckles.

“Right? And she even brought a date who was quite the asshole to be honest,” Jimin huffs.

“What’d he do?”

“He called me Jumin,” He frowns and Hoseok rolls his eyes at him. “I mean honestly, he just had that vibe to him, you know? He struts around the room as if he owns the place,” He huffs, trying his best to defend himself. Dickbag, Jimin whispers under his breath.

“Geez, someone’s a hater,” Hoseok laughs.

“Whatever, like who is he anyway? All the girls were drooling over him and I don’t even know why,” He scoffs, tone laced with jealousy. “He wasn’t even that good looking.”

A light bell rings, the front door to restaurant swings open and Taehyung runs over as he dodges the peanuts that Hoseok is throwing at him. Both Jimin and Hoseok scowl at him as he smiles apologetically and takes a seat at the booth.

“Finally!” Hoseok exclaims. “We’ve been waiting for you for 20 minutes,” He groans as he calls the waiter over.

“Sorry,” He grins bashfully. “What’s with him?” Taehyung questions, pointing at Jimin who was staring off into the distance.

“Jimin was just bitching about the guy Y/N brought to the ball last night,” Hoseok chuckles. “Apparently, he’s a dickbag.”

“What’d he do?”

“Called him Jumin,” Hoseok tries to say with a straight face but his lips betray him.

“My God, how terrible, truly scum of the earth,” Taehyung drawls sarcastically to which Jimin replies with a playful shove.

“From what I hear, he’s actually a nice guy,” Taehyung shrugs.

“And who told you that?” Jimin asks.

“Y/N.”

“Of course, she did. He’s her fucking boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend? Where did you get that from?” Taehyung laughs. “He’s her cousin.”

Wait what? Fuck.

“He’s her c-cousin?” Jimin repeats.

“Remember she said she was staying here with her aunt?”

“Yeah, but she didn’t mention anything about a cousin…”

“Maybe not to you,” Taehyung smiles as he lifts his eyebrows.

“No way, I don’t believe you,” Jimin snorts. “They were slow dancing in the middle of an almost empty dancefloor and she absolutely hates slow dancing.”

You had mentioned it to him with a brief chuckle once one night with your head gently placed on his chest while your arm rested at the curve of his waist. Your voice barely a whisper when you told him about how your prom date in your second last year of high school had made a comment about your sweaty palms and your two left feet that fateful prom night and ever since then you never wanted to ever slow dance with anyone again. Jimin remembers laughing uncontrollably, you scowling at him as you threatened to kick him out of the bed but between laughs, all he could think about was what he’d give to slow dance with your adorable self.

You don’t just do things you hate for anyone. You were incredibly stubborn like that. That guy had to be your boyfriend. He just had to be or else it would mean that Jimin had screwed up big time.

Taehyung sighs as he opens up his conversation with you and hands his phone over to Jimin.

[12:01] Taehyung: “I hate events where you have to dress up and come with a date,” said Y/N

[12:01] Taehyung: Then that same Y/N actually comes to the ball with a DATE(?!!) and doesn’t even bother to drop by and say hi before she leaves?

[12:01] Taehyung: Can you believe that??? She’s actually such a dick?

[3:28] You: …

[3:28] You: who’s Y/N?

[3:28] You: who’s this?

[12:01] Taehyung: don’t even try

[12:01] Taehyung: you’re not getting out of this one

[3:28] You: ☹

[3:28] You: okay first of all, I really didn’t want to go but my aunt forced me to go

[3:28] You: and my DATE(?!!) was just my cousin so please calm tf down

[3:28] You: he’s a really nice guy. y’all should meet him sometime.

[3:28] You: and yeah I had to leave because my aunt had an emergency.

[3:28] You: are you going to hold that against me? hmm??

[12:01] Taehyung: oh crap. wait what emergency?

[12:01] Taehyung: Is she okay?

“Believe me now?”

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Jimin doesn’t answer, his lips pressed tightly together in a straight line as he moved to type a text on his phone. Now everything made sense. You only showed up last minute because you were forced to go. You knew your date’s mum because she was your aunt… But could he really be blamed for thinking he was your boyfriend? He wasn’t the only one… He heard the whispers of those around the room, cursing you for being able to land the man they had been pining for as your date while he wondered how on earth he’d lost you to some stranger. He felt like a world class idiot. Making up wild stories in his head about you and your date while you were probably worrying about your aunt alongside your date who was your… cousin… But it was an understandable misunderstanding, wasn’t it? You’d forgive him, wouldn’t you?

[12:01] Jimin: hey nerd

[12:01] Jimin: did you and your family get back home okay last night?

[12:01] Jimin: is your aunt alright?

Jimin drifts in and out of the conversation as he mindlessly stuffs food in his mouth. He just couldn’t help but feel like an asshole as he played back the night in his mind. He remembers how he had purposely let his hand linger on Mina’s waist, how he had stared at her lovingly. It was all in an attempt to make you jealous, to show you that he didn’t need you. Then, he spent his night with Mina in order to forget about you because he thought that if you could toss him away just like that then he could do the same to you. Shit. It’s fine, he tells himself. It’s fine.

*Ding*

The alert tone brings Jimin back to reality and he quickly looks at his screen, his thumbs already hovering to send a reply. Except, it isn’t his phone. He glimpses over to see Taehyung smiling at his phone happily typing away his reply to you.

“Ah, Y/N said her aunt had an allergic reaction to the food last night.”

Jimin opens up his conversation with you. Maybe his messages didn’t go through?

[12:01] Jimin: taehyung said your aunt had an allergic reaction to the food at the ball

[12:01] Jimin: was it a severe reaction?

[12:01] Jimin: is she okay now?

The continuous dings from Taehyung’s phone only made Jimin sulk more and more. Why weren’t you replying him? You can’t be mad at him about Mina… All he did at the ball was hold her by the waist. Surely, you weren’t that easily ticked off, right? You can’t possibly know what had happened between him and Mina last night… She had promised that she would only talk about it to those who had been on her case, always asking when she was finally going to get laid and you’re definitely not in that category, or at least he thinks you aren’t.

Maybe he had done something wrong or maybe you were upset with him because he said yes to going to the ball with Mina? But then again you could be mad at him for a dozen other things and he wouldn’t even know. You were so difficult to decipher because you had a habit of bottling up your feelings and Jimin always had to coax them out of you. Jimin sighs and clicks the lock button on his phone. Perhaps, he should just give you some space. Tomorrow was movie day anyway and maybe he’d be able to talk to you after the other two boys leave the theatre. That is if you wanted to talk to him at all… or maybe, just maybe you weren’t mad at him and he was just overthinking everything? God, he hated this. Having a genuine crush on someone is so stressful, he groans internally.

Movie day. You never miss the thrice a week allotted movie days that the 4 of you have and here on the 2nd one, you don’t show up again.

Oh, she just has some errands to run, is what Taehyung says whenever Jimin asks why you hadn’t showed up to any of the outings. Errands, my ass. You were on holiday, living in your aunt’s house. What kind of errands did you have to run? He was beginning to worry that you were trying to avoid him. Instead of texting this time, he calls you but that goes to voicemail…

As a last-ditch effort, he goes through your social media, hoping that you would leave a clue as to why you were ignoring him, he was searching for anything, something, but there are just pictures of you together with your cousin and Mina. He lets out a sarcastic laugh. It just seemed odd to see the three of you within one frame. The two people standing beside you are the very same two people that had gotten him in this situation… Not that it was their fault, it was completely his but looking at the picture seemed like the universe was taunting him, as if the universe was trying to tell him, look at what a huge idiot you are.

He scrolls down a little further and he sees a picture that Tae had tagged you in, a group picture of you grabbing brunch with Taehyung and Hoseok. What the hell. He grips the phone so hard his knuckles begin to turn white. The picture was taken just yesterday, on a Tuesday, a day you knew that Jimin reserved as the day to visit the gym in order to keep his rowing training in check. He swipes right to see another picture, taken on the same day, one where Taehyung had one arm slung around Hoseok’s shoulder and the other around your waist.

What…

Tuesday was the day all 4 of you had somehow decided that would be used to do other things, it was sort of a silent agreement that Tuesday was off limits for group hangouts because Jimin hated being left out. Yet, here the three of you were, munching on scones on a Tuesday, without Jimin. He felt betrayed, hurt even and he shouldn’t be because hell, he wasn’t 12 anymore… If this had happened last week or the week before, he would’ve been annoyed at most but with how things were between you and him at the moment, he couldn’t help but feel a huge pang of pain in his chest. Not to mention, the huge smile you wore on your face while you stood next to Taehyung… but that was irrelevant. He gives you the benefit of the doubt because maybe you really were busy running errands and Tuesday was the only day you had some free time. He couldn’t hold that against you, could he?

You invite Taehyung and Hoseok out to a last minute brunch on Tuesday. A strategic decision on your part because you didn’t want to see Jimin but you didn’t want it to be too obvious. In a quiet little café away from the main street of town, the three of you meet up and chat about the oh so scandalous night of the ball over scones and eggs benedicts. Through the brunch, you realized you had been so preoccupied with yourself and your feelings that you hadn’t even noticed that Hoseok had totally fallen head over heels for the girl he had attended the ball with. She never really stood out to you until Taehyung points her out in all the pictures of the parties the four of you had been to over the past 2 weeks and you suddenly feel so horrible. No wonder the boy was always on his phone half the time when all of you were hanging out. Hoseok seemed so adorable as he gushed about her in short, quiet sentences but you were absolutely delighted for him, glad that he’d finally found someone for himself.

When the table finally falls silent, you quickly ask Taehyung about his night and his answer is less than stellar, describing the night as just ‘meh’. You quickly throw out any topic that comes to your mind because you catch Taehyung’s glance and you know that he knows something is up between you and Jimin but before he can say anything, Hoseok takes the bait and carries the conversation forward, not giving Taehyung a chance to ask the question that was burning at the back of his mind. You smile to yourself and Tae side-eyes you but you pretend you don’t see it, letting yourself become completely absorbed in the story Hoseok was telling.

The conversation moves onto the usual banter and you’re reminded of just how much you love spending time with them, so much so that being apart for 3 days almost felt like too long. It’s a shame that you let your feelings for Jimin take this all away from you. In fact, you’re not so sure why you’re this upset with Jimin. It’s not like you didn’t see this coming. After all, you have seen the way he operates, you knew how he was like, how he just couldn’t seem to keep it in his pants and yet somehow your mind had seemed to have forgotten all of that just because he kissed your cheek and held your hand in the theatre. God, you were a sucker for simple intimate gestures. For all you know, he did that with just about every other girl too. For all you know, he was just trying to butter you up for round three but you were starting to become just a little too much work for a quick fuck and so, he abandoned you for Mina. Was it a dick move? Yeah… but it’s not like the two of you were officially dating so you can’t technically hold all of this against him. Boys, you sigh. They always made life a little too complicated for your liking.

The three of you had just about finished your respective meals when a call from his girl has Hoseok getting up to leave faster than you have ever seen him move in his entire life. Both you and Taehyung are left there sitting, stunned at the fact that he had quite literally just ditched the both of you for a girl.

“What happened to bros before hoes?” Taehyung shouts.

“She’s not a hoe,” Hoseok winks as he throws down enough bills for the meal before dashing out of sight.

Between giggles, you rise to your feet collecting the bills to take them over to the counter to pay for the bill.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Taehyung clicks his tongue. “You might’ve fooled Hoseok with your ‘I’ve just been really busy lately’ but I know you Y/N and I know when you’re lying.”

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” You mumble as you stack the bills together.

“Sit,” Taehyung demands. “Please,” He adds with a smile but you only smile back, ignoring him as you pull out your wallet to add in your half of the meal.

“I’ll pay for half of your meal,” He offers, a smile dancing on his lips because the way you quirk your eyebrow at him tells him he had said just the right thing to make you stay. You slowly lower yourself back onto your chair and flash him the largest smile as you return a few bills into its rightful place, back into your wallet. You know what he was going to ask you and you didn’t necessarily want to talk about it but this meal turned out to be slightly more expensive than you thought it would’ve been and your broke college ass would do anything to save a few bucks.

“What’s going on between you and Jimin?”

“I don’t know,” You sigh. T’was true, you really don’t know what exactly is going on between the both of you.

“Why are you ignoring him?”

“I’m not, I’m just busy,” You shrug.

Taehyung simply rolls his eyes at you. You were a terrible liar. You were looking everywhere but his face, your fingers playing nervously with the hem of the table cloth.

“Doing what?”

“You know… stuff.”

“So you’re too busy to reply to his texts but have no problem replying to mine and Hoseok’s?”

“Oh, that… must’ve slipped my mind, you know?”

“Sure,” He drawls sarcastically. “So you’re not trying to avoid him?”

“Nope.”

“So what you’re saying is we’re not here in this restaurant, that just so happened to be on the other side of town, far away from the gym that you know Jimin would be at today.”

You lick the corners of your lips nervously, trying hard not to cave but damn it, Taehyung had you all figured out.

“What? Of course not,” You answer. “T-This place had a pretty decent rating on Yelp. It’s the sole reason I chose this restaurant.”

“None of the restaurants in this town are listed on Yelp, city girl,” He teases.

Shit.

“Well…”

“You really have to work on your lying skills, Y/N,” He laughs, patting you on the head. “So tell me, does it have to do with Mina? Thought lover boy only had eyes for you?”

You knew Taehyung knew that you and Jimin had something brewing between the both of you, often sending disapproving looks when Jimin wasn’t looking but you had guessed, he was just being jealous.

“Go on, say it, I know you’ve been waiting to,” You sigh, resting your chin on your palm.

“I told you so,” He huffs. “I told your ass to watch your back around him and what do you do? You fall for all of his tricks,” He sighs, shaking his head at you. “You stayed back and watched another movie with him when I left the cinema early the other day didn’t you?”

You nod, exhaling deeply through your nose.

“He probably chose either a horror movie or a rom com.”

“Rom com,” You mumble.

“Let me guess, the 2 seats… back row, but not the corners. That would’ve made it too obvious,” He grins.

“Yeah, the seats just off the centre of the back row,” You sigh.

“Kissed you when the main characters were kissing?”

“Yeah… okay yeah, I get it,” You groan. “He played me like all the other girls. What’s your point?”

“That I would’ve treated you better,” He smiles wistfully.

“Please,” You scoff. “The both of you use the same playbook to pick up chicks. How are you any better?”

“Need I remind you that I had a girlfriend last semester? At least I’m capable of a relationship!”

“Oh yeah your relationship of what? Two weeks?” You laugh.

“And a half. Two weeks and a half,” He defends, his voice small and sad. It almost makes you stop to giving him a comforting hug but the smirk on his face wipes that thought off your mind.

“Boy, those 3-4 days sure make a huge difference.”

“They do, alright? Relationships are hard work,” He groans.

That you could agree on. They were complicated, messy, time-consuming and you wonder what it is about relationships that had everyone wanting one… yourself included. You knew the pain that came with them and yet you let yourself fall for a boy.

“Go on then, show me that you can treat me better,” You smile. “I mean an ice-cream… a free one at that sounds like a good idea, no?” You question as you glance through the dessert menu that stood in the middle of the table.

“You’re kidding,” He scoffs. “It’s freezing outside and you want ice-cream? Plus, dessert here costs an arm and a leg.”

“See? I knew you were all talk,” You sigh. “How bad can it— Damn,” You whisper as you spot the prices listed on the menu. Was the ice cream here served with gold flakes? No way in hell would a sane person pay that much for a dessert.

“Right?”

“Let’s get outta here. This place is a damn rip off,” You scoff.

You spend the rest of the day with Taehyung in a tiny ice-cream shop that served the best mango flavoured ice-cream you had ever tasted. Taehyung groaned all the way to the shop, completely against the idea of having an ice-cream on such a cold day but the puppy eyes you flashed him made him grow weak in the knees. The conversation that went on between you and Taehyung was like all the ones you’ve ever had with him, a good mix of light-hearted jokes and mildly heavy topics. He throws in a flirty line or two from time to time but unlike most of the time, they barely had an effect on you. Just a wink from Taehyung used to send your head on a whirlwind but he could be kissing you senseless right now and you wouldn’t even feel a spark. Oh, you were screwed, so screwed. You keep telling yourself you hate Jimin but who were you kidding? Even you knew you didn’t hate the boy.

It’s the 3rd movie day you’ve missed now and Jimin is really starting to worry. He’s left you a few calls and some texts, all of which are left unanswered and he begins to panic. He replays the night of the ball again and again in his head and he can’t seem to find anything that would make you shut him out like this. He asks Taehyung if he knew what was going on with you and he simply gives him the cold shoulder, shrugging as he said that you were just ‘busy’. He asks Mina for what must be the 100th time if she had said anything to you to which she vehemently denies which then leaves him back at square one.

Jimin contemplates going over to your house just to see you, to ask you why you’ve been avoiding him but he knows better than anyone that you would end up hating him even more if he inherently forced you to answer him but damn… this whole silent treatment stint was driving him mad. Actually, now that he thought about it… he didn’t know where you lived either.

Stupid ball and his stupid assuming ass.

He felt like he was finally beginning to get somewhere with you after that kiss the two of you shared in the theatre but now he’s pretty sure all of that was out the window. To think that he had ruined it all because he was such a jealous prick only made him feel like punching himself in the face.

He restrains himself from checking your social media after accidentally liking a 45 week old photo on your Instagram just the other day. He had never double tapped a photo so fast, curse words flying out of his mouth at the speed of light, hoping that the quick subsequent double tap would stop the notification from showing up on your phone but he was sure you would have probably seen it by now. He resorts to going through his camera roll to look at the only 2 pictures he has of you. It was taken on the very same day Jimin kissed you for real, for the first time. It was the first kiss that he had planted on your lips while completely sober. It was a pure simple gesture that he had been wanting to carry out ever since the end of the semester. He remembers pulling away from the kiss, his heart soaring as he watched you smile back at him. He had hoped that you couldn’t feel the way his heart was thudding in his chest when you moved to lay your head on his shoulder that day.

Jimin stares at the pictures, swiping between the both of them constantly. During all of the group hangouts, you were always the one taking the photos, never the one in them and whenever he or anyone got a decent picture of you, you’d make them delete it on the spot but you were so preoccupied that day, you must’ve forgot.

You’re beaming in the first photo, the brightest smile he’d ever seen on you as you stand next to the arcade machine, your initials on the top of the leaderboard. God, he misses your smile. In the second photo, Jimin’s standing next to you with a smirk on his face, one arm resting on the top of your head while the other hand was pointing to the top of the leaderboard where his initials now replaced yours. You’re side-eyeing him in the picture, your signature scowl on display and Jimin can’t help but let out a small laugh. God, he misses seeing your scowl, dearly so and he doesn’t understand what’s wrong with him, why he’s pining for you like this. He repeatedly tells himself that you didn’t mean that much to him, that he should forget about you but he can’t bring himself to because he was whipped, utterly and completely whipped for you. A lovesick fool, he was.

Aside from the short brunch with Tae and Hoseok, you’ve spent the last 5 days solely with your cousin and occasionally with Mina. It was a change to your usual schedule but that’s alright, you were going to see both Hoseok and Taehyung plenty of times once classes start again while you weren’t going to see your cousin again until next Christmas. You feel your phone buzz in your hand and you look down at the caller ID before putting it away in your pocket. Jimin, you scoff. You can’t believe he actually had the nerve to call you and leave you texts as if everything was normal, that he hadn’t just played with your heart like it was some game. Did he really think you’d just let him do that, that you’d fall right back into his arms again? Hell no. You don’t even bother opening up his texts because he didn’t even deserve to be left on read. Prick.

You wanted to hate Mina you really did, but she was the innocent one in all of this. She was just a girl with a huge crush on a boy she had loved since she was 13 and you can’t blame her for doing what she did. She’s not at fault at all because you and Jimin weren’t even a thing as per se so how was she supposed to know? In fact, you pitied her. You catch her checking her phone regularly and you know she’s waiting for a text from Jimin almost all the time. He must be a horrible conversationalist because you watch Mina reply with a sulk on her face but you don’t let your mind dwell on that fact. You wanted to tell her that she shouldn’t waste her time on him, that she deserved a boy far better than the one she was after but she always had on the most genuine smile you’ve seen when she talks about him so, you let that thought slip away. As long as she’s happy, you guess… so, you tune her out whenever she speaks about him because as far as you were concerned, Park Jimin was no longer someone you wanted to think about anymore.

“Y/N?” Your aunt calls.

“Yeah?”

“Can you do me a favour?” She asks.

“Sure,” You nod, getting up from the couch.

“A parcel was misdelivered to our house. Can you drop it off at the right one?”

You take the parcel in your hand and notice that the postman must’ve misread the house number because you lived in house no. 37 while this box was supposed to be delivered to house no. 73. You sigh at the thought of how long the walk was going to be. Picking your phone up from the coffee table, you enter the address of the following house and put on your coat, wincing as the cold winter air hits your skin when you open the door.

You stop occasionally along the way, trying your hardest to find your bearings because your phone shuts down occasionally in the cold winter weather. You take a wrong turn or two, okay… maybe a few more than that but this neighbourhood honestly felt like a maze, especially since all the houses looked exactly the same. After a long 20 minute walk, you finally find the row of houses that were in the high sixties.

67, 69, 71…

Crap.

You let out a heavy sigh when your eyes skim over the plaque that rested above the house number.

Home of the Park Family, it stated in gold, cursive font. You glance at the house and it looked slightly familiar but you’re not sure if that had to do with the fact that you had just seen some 30 odd houses that looked just like it, your cousin’s included. Maybe it wasn’t his house. Park is a common last name, you shrug. You stride up the driveway and reach the front door in a few steps. Please don’t be home, please don’t be home, you chanted to yourself as you knocked lightly at the door.

“Who is it?” You hear a woman call out.

“I-It’s Y/N.”

“The door’s open! Please come in!” She answers.

You twist the door knob hesitantly and push the door open. The interior of the house looks familiar and you confirm that this is in fact Jimin’s home.

Please don’t be home, please don’t be home.

“Ah, Y/N! Are you looking for Jimin? He’s not home at the moment,” She frowns.

Thank God.

“Oh no, I’m not looking for him,” You laugh. “Um, a parcel was delivered to my house but I think it was meant for yours,” You smile as you hand over the package.

Mrs. Park, wipes her hands on her apron before taking the parcel out of your hands. Her eyebrows slightly furrowed as she twists the box around.

“Must be for my husband,” She mutters. “But, thank you for coming all the way here to deliver it,” She smiles.

“Oh, it’s no problem at all,” You smile in return.

You turn on your heel, ready to bid Mrs. Park goodbye when she says the magic word.

Cookies.

“Oh, would you like some cookies? I just baked them this morning!”

Food. Your one true weakness.

“Sure!” You answer delightedly as you follow her into the kitchen. The smell of fried shallots filled the air and you let out a small hum of delight. As if she had heard you, Mrs. Park lets out a light laugh. “I was just starting on dinner prep when you had knocked on the door,” She quips and you nod, peering around the kitchen curiously.

She hands you the container and your eyes instantly light up. You waste no time, quickly taking a bite of the deliciously gooey chocolate chip cookie, throwing a thumbs up her way as you stuff the rest of the cookie in your mouth.

“I’m glad you like it,” Mrs. Park chuckles. “Please have some more!”

Don’t mind if I do.

You nod eagerly at her, already reaching for another cookie even when your mouth was still full.

You must’ve been on cookie number 3 when you realize that shit, Jimin could come home at any time now… so you quickly close the container, moving to the dustbin to dust the crumbs off your hands.

“Oh, Y/N can you stir this pot for me please?”

“O-of course,” You answer as you quickly move to grab the wooden spoon sitting in the pot.

“Mr. Park just closed a big deal yesterday,” She grins. “So, I thought I should cook up a little something special to celebrate,” She gestures around the kitchen.

A little, would’ve be an understatement. She was downright preparing a feast.

“T-this seems like a little too much for only one person to handle,” You blurted out.

“It is a bit much isn’t it?” She sighs. “But my husband has been working so hard lately and I just wanted to do something nice for him,” She laughs.

You felt a little bad as you watched her slave away all on her own, her hair disheveled as she frantically zips around the kitchen. You wanted to offer her some help but… you definitely were no master chef and not to mention the fact that Jimin might walk in at any time now lingered at the back of your mind but poor Mrs. Park looked so stressed.

Well, you had time to spare and she did give you cookies…

“I could help you if you like… I mean I’m not a good cook or—“

“Oh you would?!” She exclaims. “I’d love some help!”

Mrs. Park directs you around the kitchen and you admire the way she moved around expertly. Considering the fact that most of your cooking experiences for the past few months only consisted of pouring hot water on top of a block of instant noodles, it takes you some time to fully get the hang of things. You listen intently at the instructions she gives you and quickly get to work, washing the bag of potatoes that she had given you.

As you pat the potatoes dry, you glance at the cooking book that laid open atop the counter and your mouth waters at the prospective dish that Mrs. Park has in mind. It was a recipe for some Cheesy Hasselback Potato Gratin and you almost cry as you imagine taking a bite of the dish. Two of your most favourite potato dishes cooked in a combined style? It sounded like heaven. Mrs. Park wouldn’t mind if you stayed for dinner… would she?

She must’ve noticed the drool threatening to spill out the corners of your lips because Mrs. Park lets out a light laugh when she places a finger under your chin to gently shut your mouth that was wide open. You flash her a nervous smile before grabbing the knife to thinly slice the potatoes, making light conversation with her as you did so.

“This dish is going to taste so good, Mrs. Park!” You exclaim over your shoulder as you arrange the potato slices around the casserole dish carefully. “Potatoes are like that one magical vegetable that tastes amazing no matter how it’s cooked,” You say more to yourself than Mrs. Park but she catches it, letting out a hum of agreement.

“Jimin wasn’t joking when he told me about how much you love potatoes,” Mrs. Park laughs. “Said he’d always catch you sitting alone at the dining hall close to closing hours whenever a potato dish was being served.”

You let out a nervous laugh, confirming it with a nod that you did indeed go back to the dining hall to catch supper whenever you spotted baked potatoes on the dining hall menu. You tilt your head a little in confusion. Why in the world would your love for potatoes ever come up in a conversation between Jimin and his mum? You swipe away that thought. It’s not like you cared anyway because Park Jimin was nobody to you.

“Guilty as charged. I’ve loved them ever since I was young,” You chuckle. “Actually, when I was 5 my dad tricked me–”

“–into thinking potatoes were cow poop!” Mrs. Park exclaims. “I know this story! I laughed so hard when Jimin told me the story,” She sighs. "Such a horrible prank for your father to pull on you but you were such a gullible child too,“ She shakes her head.

Ah, yes. The one time your father decided it would be funny to prank his 5-year-old daughter aka the time you felt like the world was going to end. You were sat at the dining table, proclaiming your love for potatoes as you put a spoonful of mashed potato into your mouth. Your dad reached out for your hand, a solemn look on his face and you turned silent, a look of worry quickly washing over you.

"Y/N, you’re 5 years old now, such a big girl,” Your father hummed.

You tilted your head to the side, not fully understanding why he would suddenly bring that up.

“I am,” You nodded, flashing him a smile as you held out your palm, showing him the number 5.

“I think it’s time I tell you a little secret now that you’re old enough to understand.”

“Secret?” You asked, your voice low and quiet. Your dad nodded at you and you quickly leaned in, eyebrows furrowed as you await the reveal of this little secret of his.

“You love potatoes, don’t you?” He asked and you nodded furiously, a large smile gracing your lips.

“Do you know where they come from?” He questioned and you rested your chin on your palm, giving it some thought before shook your head from side to side.

Your father leaned in, curling his finger at you so that you would come closer. You scooted closer towards him, your tiny hand cupping your ear as you waited for his answer.

“Cow poop.”

“W-what?”

“Potatoes are actually cow poop,” He answered with a straight face. 5-year-old you, searched his face for a hint of a smile, anything to tell you that this was a joke but you are only greeted with a blank expression. Horrified, you pushed away your bowl of mashed potatoes and reached for your cup to take a large gulp of water. Your father watched on as you scurried off to the bathroom, presumably to wash your mouth out and he snickered to himself. Damn, your mum was definitely going to give him a piece of her mind when she finds out but he couldn’t help himself… You were just a delight to tease.

“I was,” You laugh. “But in my defense, my father was a really convincing liar.”

You laugh along with Mrs. Park as she asks about the small details in the story and you zone out a little when she tells you what a menace Jimin was when he was younger. You stand there, adjusting the position of the potato slices, nodding while you let the fact that Jimin tells these little stories about you to his mother, sink in. Maybe he just talked about all his friends in general in this detail and that you were just overthinking the situation. It was a rather funny story you guess, perhaps something you would tell your own parents if it were the other way around… You have a nagging feeling though that this is only one of the many stories about you that Jimin has told his mum.

Unsurprisingly, your suspicions are confirmed when Mrs. Park asks if your father had always worked on an oil rig and if your mother enjoyed the traveling aspect of her job. You answer the questions with no hesitation because you didn’t mind talking about your parents but the thing is… you don’t exactly remember telling Jimin this much about your parents. Oh, right, there was that conversation you had with the boys in the supermarket which to you seemed pretty insignificant now. Odd. This whole situation seemed a little too odd for you but then maybe, maybe he was just explaining to his mother as to why you had suddenly just showed up in this town of all places. Yeah, that had to be it… nothing more, nothing less.

When you set the casserole dish which held the potatoes, topped off with a generous amount of cheese into the oven and finally pushed the door to it shut, both you and Jimin’s mother let out a collective sigh of relief. At least that was one dish down.

Mrs. Park was some goddess in the kitchen because as you worked on that potato dish alone, she had somehow managed to get three other dishes almost close to completion herself and you’re simply flabbergasted. You stand next to her, stirring a pot of creamy soup that she had left simmering on the stove as you made light conversation with her.

“So how was sophomore year for you? Not too stressful I hope.”

“Ah, it was alright,” You lie. “I had—“

Both you and Mrs. Park whip your heads towards the front door when you hear it being slammed shut.

“Sorry!” You hear Jimin squeak and Mrs. Park mutters under her breath about how Jimin never understood the concept of holding the door so that it would shut softly.

Crap. Jimin.

She calls out his name but he was already making his way to his room, his heavy footsteps thudding against the wooden staircase.

You try to remain calm but a 101 thoughts are running through your mind and you panic at the thought of having to speak to Jimin, or even having to see him. You’re stood there stirring the pot with shaky hands, a blank expression on your face but really all you’re thinking about if it was socially acceptable to dash out of a person’s house without providing a reason.

You were horrible at lying under pressure, your gestures and words often coming out over-exaggerated but hell, you were desperate. If there was a time for you to display your highly unpolished acting skills you obtained from your first semester drama elective then this was definitely the time.

“Gosh, look at the time,” You gasp as you glance at the clock hanging on the wall. “I should head back before it gets too dark.”

“Oh, you mean you won’t be staying for dinner?” She questions, a look of surprise on her face as if it was so absurd that you hadn’t been planning to stay all along. “Stay!”

“Ah, no I’d hate to impose,” You laugh nervously. “I mean this is a family dinner to celebrate Mr Park’s recent achievement after all.”

“Exactly! It’s a celebration so we’d love for you to join us!”

Well… this was definitely not how the conversation played out in your head.

“M-My aunt is expecting me home for dinner,” You lie. Your aunt was going for a fancy dinner with the mayor and his wife but Mrs. Park didn’t know that, or at least you hope she didn’t.

“I’m sure she’d let you stay if you ask,” Mrs. Park smiles. “I mean you do want to taste the potato dish you practically made all by yourself, don’t you?”

You almost cave. Almost.

“That’s really tempting Mrs. Park,” You laugh. “But I’d hate to disappoint my aunt.”

“Alright, I understand,” She sighs with a deep-set frown. You frown in return, partially because you felt absolutely horrible for lying to her but also because all you actually had waiting for you at home was some sad soggy pizza from lunch.

“Thank you so much for the cookies and everything, Mrs. Park,” You smile sheepishly. “I really had fun today.”

“Oh please, I should be thanking you,” She chuckles. “It really is getting dark out there,” She hums as she looks out the small window that sat above the kitchen sink. “I’ll get Jimin to walk you home.”

“Oh no that’s fine—“ You begin but it’s too late. She is already shouting his name before you can complete your sentence.

"Yeah?” You hear Jimin answer as he makes his way down the stairs.

If you run now, you could probably reach the front door before he sees you but Jimin’s mother has a soft grip on your shoulder, almost as if she knew whatever you were planning in your head.

“Sorry I took so long. I was—“

Jimin pauses when he spots you standing there, timidly shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

"Nerd… w-what—”

“She came here to deliver a package and I held her hostage,” Mrs. Park chortled. “She helped me with dinner and I’ve been trying to get her to stay but she’s a stubborn one.”

“Yeah, stay… you should s-stay,” Jimin stutters nervously, still in shock at seeing you here, standing in his own home.

“I really can’t, I’m sorry,” You reply while staring at your feet, unable to make eye contact with the boy before you.

“Maybe, next time,” Mrs. Park suggests. Oh no, definitely not. There will be no next time… not if you could help it. “Jimin, walk her home won’t you?”

“Of course,” He replies quickly, a little too quickly, he thinks.

“Really Jimin, it’s fine, you don’t have to.”

“No, I insist,” Mrs. Park remains adamant. “It’s either you stay for dinner or he walks you home.”

You pull your lips into a taut line before forcing on a smile as you bid Mrs. Park goodbye, Jimin following closely behind you, much to your dismay.

“Sorry about my mum,” Jimin laughs nervously. “She can be a little bit too much sometimes.”

“It’s fine,” You mumble. “I like her. She’s nice.”

You’re so quiet, your answers are short curt sentences and Jimin can feel the awkwardness that surrounded the both of you, the pure discomfort that seemed to be radiating from you.

When the two of you finally step out of the house and let the front door close, he finally works up the courage to ask you what was wrong… or at least something like that.

“Hey nerd, we’re fine right?”

You spin around, quirking your eyebrow at him and he realizes this is the first time today that you’ve looked him in the eye.

“Are you angry at me or something?”

“No.”

Okay, so you were angry with him.

“Then why aren’t you talking to me?”

“What do you mean? We’re talking right now.”

“No, this isn't— never mind,” He sighs. “Why have you been ignoring me?”

“I haven’t, I’ve just been busy,” You shrug, glancing down towards your feet as you shift nervously on his front porch.

Unconvinced, Jimin simply shakes his head. “Did I… did I do something wrong? You’re talking to me but you’re not talking to me…”

"I don’t understand.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t because we’re talking right now, aren’t we?” You huff. “What? What do you want to talk about now? I’m all ears.”

If you had asked him an hour ago, he would’ve been able to fire 5 questions all in one shot but now that you were standing physically before him, his mind had chosen to completely betray him. Blank. His mind was drawing a complete blank.

You tap your foot impatiently and lifted an eyebrow at him. There he was complaining about not talking and when you give him a chance, he’s completely silent. Boys. They will always be a complete mystery to you. You turn around, ready to make your way home

“Your aunt!” He exclaims, his eyes wide when he realizes that he had said that a little too loud. You turn back to face him and he pulls back, straightening himself up before he continues. “Your aunt…” He starts, this time much softer. “How is she? The allergic reaction wasn’t too serious, was it?”

“She’s fine. Nothing a shot of anti-histamine couldn’t fix,” You answer. A heavy silence hangs in the air and you let out a sigh. You promised him a conversation so you might as well hold up your end of the bargain. “Was a shame we had to leave. How was the rest of the ball?”

“Uneventful,” He’s quick to answer.

Uneventful. What bullshit.

“That’s not what Mina had to say,” You scoff. The nerve on this boy. If he wanted to lie, he should’ve at least told a believable one.

The moment the sentence slips out of your mouth, Jimin’s eyes go wide and you rolled your eyes so hard it almost felt like you could see the inside of your head. Did he honestly think you were an idiot?

“That’s not— I-I can explain.”

Of course. Of course, Mina told you. Even after he specifically asked for her not to.

“You don’t have to,” Is all you say before you begin moving forward, stepping onto the driveway. Jimin immediately runs after you, softly grabbing your hand to stop you.

“Please let me explain.”

“Jimin, please just leave it,” You sigh as you pull your arm away from him.

“Nerd please, I want to explain because you and I, we… we—“

"We what?” You interrupt and Jimin stays silent, unable to put his thoughts into a coherent sentence.

“Look Jimin I get it,” You sigh. “We’re not dating or anything so you can sleep with whoever you want alright? It’s none of my business.”

“No, you don’t understand, that’s not what happened! I didn’t sleep with her!” He groans.

Alright, now he’s just pissing you off. You had saw him leave her house, sex hair and all. You had heard the detailed reiteration of the night, courtesy of Mina and he actually had the audacity to stand here in front of you and tell you that that’s not what happened? Did he really think you would believe him?

“I really don’t care what happened Jimin, it’s none of my concern,” You huff.

“Then why are you mad at me? Why are you being so cold?”

“I’m not.”

“You are! See, you just did it!” Jimin exclaims as he runs his hand through his hair in frustration.

“Did what?”

“This isn’t how we usually talk to each other and you know that.”

“I’m too tired to argue with you right now,” You exhale.

“Then don’t argue. Just listen and let me exp—”

There’s a loud crash from inside the house and you hear Jimin’s mother let out a light yelp. The both of you run to the door immediately, quickly ducking in to check if Mrs. Park had hurt herself.

“Mum! Are you okay?” Jimin questions as he rushes to her side, helping her pick up the assorted cooking utensils that laid across the floor.

“Yeah I just dropped the pan that I was trying to store,” She grumbles.

It’s selfish of you to do this, an absolute dick move but as they’re preoccupied with the conversation, you take it as your chance to escape. You bolt out of the house and down the street, trying to the best of your ability to remember which turns you are supposed to take and you hope to god you’re taking the right ones. When you feel you’ve gained enough distance, you take out your phone to look at the map and you’re relieved to find that you weren’t that far off track… oh and there were a few or so missed calls from Jimin plus a handful of worried texts but you could deal with those later, or maybe never.

Jimin spends 20 or so minutes, searching the streets for you, his phone constantly pressed to his ear as he hears the dial tone and the familiar message of this is the voicemail box for the number… Goddamn it. You’re an idiot, an absolute idiot. It’s cold out, unbearably so now that the sun has set and the old streetlamps that lined the streets every few or so metres barely did anything to light up the path. Jimin shudders at the thought of you becoming prey to some possible criminal lurking in the dark. Jimin is barely dressed well enough for the weather but he barely feels the cold not when he imagines the way you walk around the streets without any care in mind, never alert, always aloof as if your mind was somewhere else. He didn’t care if you hated him, he would’ve walked well behind you if that was what you wanted… he just needed to know that you got home safe. Just like the night he first saw you at that party, he could hear his heart pulsing in his ears, his mind a mess as he frantically begs for you to pick up the phone but unlike the first night, you don’t pick up. Jimin is left wandering in the dark, unsure of where to go and after what felt like hours of screaming your name, he hears a soft ding from his phone.

[6:18] You: i got home fine thanks

Wow. You had left the house without saying a word, walked home alone in the dark, refused to pick up the phone when he called and all you had to say was… I got home fine thanks? You were honestly driving him insane. Jimin was fuming, absolutely livid because he was so worried that something horrible might’ve happened to you but you obviously seem nonchalant about the whole matter. He types out a paragraph, fingers moving furiously fast as he spewed out his unfiltered thoughts.

How could you just leave like that? Do you know how worried I was? What if some pervert had jumped on you or what if some guy armed with a knife mugged you? Look, I know you’re mad at me but god why would you put yourself in so much danger? I don’t think I’d ever be able to forgive myself if something had happened to you, do you know that? I don’t know if you’ve realized but you’re important to me, more than just a fr—

His fingers hover above the keyboard, wondering if he should continue the sentence but he only holds the backspace button, sighing as he watched the words disappear, only to be replaced by a blinking cursor.

[6:19] Jimin: cool

[6:19] Jimin: let me know when you’re free to talk

Jimin knows you won’t reply to his message. You probably won’t even bother opening it but he had to at least try. He shoves his phone into his pocket and walks as fast as he could but the sub-zero temperatures made his limbs feel like they were completely frozen. Jimin squints in the dark to look at the street sign that was dimly illuminated.

A short honk sounds and Jimin swears he was so startled that he almost jumped out of his skin. Thankfully enough when he turns around he’s only met by his father who had wound down the window to scream at him for being so inadequately dressed. Jimin quickly jumps into the car, nodding his head silently at his father’s words as he basks in the warmth of the car.

“This is so good,” Mr. Park groans as he scoops another spoonful of the potato gratin into his mouth. “I can’t believe you took the time to make all of my favourite dishes, love. How did you even manage to do this all by yourself? You must be exhausted,” He frowns as he takes his wife’s hand in his, thumb circling the top of her hand.

“I didn’t, I had help,” She smiles. “Jimin’s friend, Y/N stopped by to drop a parcel and she offered to help. Made that potato dish all by herself. Such a sweet girl,” She sighs.

“She made this?” Mr Park points at the potato gratin that sat in the middle of the table and Mrs. Park nods. “Jimin, you have to invite her over more often,” He quips as he scoops more onto his plate.

“Yeah, you should!” Mrs. Park chimes in. “I really like her.”

Ha. Funny story mum, I really like her too.

Jimin only nods, his cheeks starting to turn a little rosy when his father connects the dots, remembering Y/N to be the girl Jimin often mentioned over dinner with them… which he hadn’t realize he had been doing. I’d really like to meet her, his father says and Jimin’s face turns cherry red, his parents letting out quiet laughs at the sight of their flustered son. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise that you had chosen not to stay for dinner.

“Why didn’t she stay for dinner?” Mr. Park inquires as he scoops some meat onto his plate.

“Her aunt was waiting for her at home,” Mrs. Park frowns.

Maybe that was true but Jimin was 99% sure that it was a complete lie. You hadn’t stayed simply because you couldn’t stand him and boy he wished he could go back in time so bad because maybe, you would’ve been sitting at this table if he hadn’t been such a fool. He was in the wrong, he knew that but maybe you’d be sitting at this table if you had just let him explain.

You don’t have to, is what you said. But he wanted to, god, that’s all he wanted because he didn’t do it… he really didn’t.

Night of the ball

Jimin’s hand slips behind Mina’s back and he struggles to unhook her bra, his finger and thumb unable to get it to unclasp. It was almost as if all the drive he had previously had suddenly dissipated and all he was left with was this overwhelming sense of guilt that this was wrong, wrong, wrong.

Mina spots the worry on Jimin’s face and it only makes her even more nervous than she already is and she squirms under Jimin, unsure if she should help him or just wait for him to finally get it unhooked.

“Sorry,” Jimin whispers as he pulls away, running his hand through his hair while he moved to the side to sit next to where Mina laid.

“I think we shouldn’t do this,” They say in unison.

Both Jimin and Mina stare at each other in mild surprise, unsure of what to say next.

“I—” The both of them start and Jimin lets out a light laugh, nodding his head at her as if to say, you first.

"I’m not ready for this,” She whispers. “I’m sorry. This is my first time… and I’m so nervous about all of this and I—”

"Your first?” Jimin gasps. “Why didn’t you tell me this was going to be your first, Mina?”

Mina sighs before taking in a deep breath, spewing out her thoughts at the speed of a bullet train. "I just… everyone has been hounding me about when I was going to lose my virginity and then you came back and then I saw the ball as my chance and I didn’t want you to know I was inexperienced because you would’ve said no and I just wanted to get it over with and I’m sorry that I—”

"Hey Mina, calm down. It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize,” He interrupts with a smile. With the way Mina was rushing through her sentences, it was almost as if she was afraid that he was going to call her out for leading him on. “I should be the one apologizing,” He smiles sadly as he brought up the blanket to lay it on top of her.

He should’ve seen the signs. The way she seemed like a lost lamb the moment the both of them had entered the room, the shaky breaths that left her lips but he was too clouded by lust to see all of that. Maybe in his mind he had always seen Mina to be someone who had tons of experience under her belt simply by the way she got all the boys in school to fall at her feet. He would have guessed that she had lost it a long time ago but he should’ve known better than to believe those rumours that floated around the noisy high school hallways.

Jimin sinks down to lay next to her, patting her head in hopes that it would provide her some sort of comfort.

“I’m sorry,” She whispers once more and Jimin scowls in return.

“I already told you, you don’t have to apologize. You did nothing wrong,” He smiles.

“O-okay,” Mina murmurs with a half-smile.

Jimin shuts his eyes as he tried to clear his mind. What a mess this was. He climbs off the bed to put on the clothes that he had previously torn off. In the softest voice ever, he asks Mina if she wanted him to grab her some nightwear to change into and she nods, pointing at the nightdress that hung on the coat hanger on the wall. He pads over to the bed handing her the dress as he took a seat at the corner of her bed.

“Jimin,” Mina whispers as she pulls the dress over her head. “Can you do me a favour?”

“Sure…” He hums apprehensively, unsure of what exactly this favour would entail.

“If anyone asks… can you just tell them we did it?”

“Why…?”

“It’s just these girls in town have been calling me a prude for ages, making fun of me… saying boys would never want to be with someone as inexperienced as me and I just—“ She sighs. “–can you please just lie for me?”

“Sure… I guess?” Jimin answers. “You know you shouldn’t really let them get to you though, Mina. You know they’re just talking shit because they’re jealous, right?” He smiles as he ruffles her hair.

“I know,” She grumbles. “It’s just hard to hear sometimes and I just really want them to stop,” She groans and Jimin nods understandingly as he tried to empathize with her.

“Oh, um Mina?” He pauses. “Just make sure Y/N doesn’t hear this story yeah?”

Y/N. Mina hated it when Jimin talked about you when it was just the both of them. She didn’t understand how in just the span of a semester, you had managed to grow so close to the boy she had spent almost all her life growing up next to. She knew him for way longer than you did but it seemed like Jimin cared for you all the same and it was so unfair. Jimin was meant to have eyes for her only, after all, that’s what it had been like all throughout high school but then you come along and suddenly she didn’t have the main spotlight anymore. Mina wasn’t stupid, she knew Jimin was quite the playboy but he never had feelings for all the other girls and if Mina wanted to, she could have him pining for her again with just a few words. You changed all of that though. It was almost as if Mina had been reduced to just another girl ever since you came along and she couldn’t stand that. You were a great person, sure but she wasn’t going to let you get away with stealing her man from her.

“Sure thing,” She smiles and if Jimin had been paying attention, he would have seen a hint of a smirk, one filled with malicious intent. “I’ll only be telling this lie to a select few that ask anyway,” She shrugs.

Jimin lets out a sigh of relief as he allowed himself to sink down into the pillow next to Mina.

“Hey Mina,” He whispers. “Do you think we could um… cuddle for a while?” Jimin asks with a shaky voice, his cheeks beginning to heat up as he awaits her answer.

Mina throws him an amused look, a request she thought she’d never hear from the player that was Park Jimin but she’ll be damned if she gives up the chance to cuddle with her long-time crush. “Sure,” She giggles as she moves closer towards him.

Jimin slips his hand under her body and Mina turns in his hold to rest on his chest. Mina was just like you. She hikes her knee high, letting it rest at his waist while one of her palms rest atop his chest. For a short moment, it felt almost familiar but as he lets the seconds tick by, it becomes more apparent to him that this wasn’t the same… that Mina wasn’t you and that her resting on top of him felt uncomfortable at best.

“You like her, don’t you?” Mina questions.

“Who?”

“You know who.”

Of course he knew but he didn’t want to talk about his feelings right now… especially not with Mina.

“I um… It’s complicated,” Jimin mumbles. It’s not the truth but it wasn’t a lie either. He wasn’t exactly sure what it was that he felt for you or perhaps he just didn’t want to admit it. Either way, he didn’t want to think about it, at least not in this moment because when he thought of you, all he could see was you slow dancing with your date and that was the last thing he wanted on his mind tonight.

Mina was just about your size and maybe if Jimin was drunk enough he could mistake her for you. So how was it that you felt so different in his arms in comparison to Mina? With Mina, it just didn’t feel right. It felt like he was being suffocated, almost as if she was just a large weight that was resting on top of him but he never felt like that with you. When he cuddled with you, he felt warm and safe. When he cuddled with you… as cliché as it sounds, he felt like everything was in the right place. From the way you nestled your head in the same spot every night, to the way your knee rested just below his hip bone, it was almost as if by nature, the both of you just happened to fit each other perfectly. Jimin thinks it’s just his mind playing tricks on him that he was only feeling this way because he felt guilty for being here but he knows that it isn’t all in his head… that there was a bigger underlying issue as to why he was feeling this way.

Jimin had figured out mid-way through the semester that chasing you was going to be different from all the other girls he had pursued after. You were carefree yet cautious, friendly yet reserved, a myriad of other opposites, a true living paradox and maybe that’s what drew him in. You had layers to you, and each time he unpeeled one, he felt himself travelling further down a treacherous path, one lined with potential heartbreak either on your part or his but he’d been through a fair share of girls and he assumed you couldn’t possibly have that much of an effect of him, that he would come out of all of this, unscathed.

He assumed.

That was his first big mistake. You see, things were never really simple when it came to you. There were a lot of what if’s and maybes but if there was one positive that could come out from this night it’s that those mere unknowns that swam around in his mind have now become definite answers instead because…

He used to think that maybe he just liked the idea of cuddling but he knew now that he doesn’t… not unless it was you that was there with him, softly stroking the curve of his waist.

He used to think that the feeling of guilt when it came to sleeping around was simply a construct of the mind but he knew now that it was a valid feeling, a horrible one that came with a lot of weight.

He used to think that maybe what he feels for you is something he’d be able to shake off but he knows now that that simply wasn’t true because you have him undeniably wrapped around your finger.

Jimin groans upon that realization because now all he wants to do is to escape, to run away from these feelings that were bogging him down. He gently pushes Mina, who’s fast asleep, off of him and dashes out of her house. He glances out onto the street to make sure no one was around before he breaks out into a run, hurtling down the street as fast as he can, silently hoping that it would tire him out, praying that it would get his mind to stop thinking about you… except it doesn’t and he returns to his bed, falling asleep to the thought of you, wishing that you were here, lying next to him.

“Jimin, you’ve barely touched your food, is something wrong?” His mother asks.

“No, I just… have a lot of um rowing stuff on my mind,” He coughs.

“Ah, think about all of that later, dear,” She smiles. “But for now, eat please.”

His mother reaches over, scooping a generous serving of the elaborate potato dish you had made, onto his plate. Jimin silently stuffs a spoonful into his mouth and although he had no appetite, the mere thought of this being something you made is enough to push him to forcefully swallow it. He thinks perhaps if he ate enough of it, it could help fill the vague emptiness he felt in his chest but he knew that only one thing could do that and that was you.

A/N: ahh this turned out way longer than I thought it would but lmaooo. Some of you clever beans predicted the plot right in your tags!!! proud of y’all (’: Anyway, thank you for reading! and as always, feedback is welcome (: (p.s: my bro actually tricked me into thinking potato was cow poop when I was 5 and I didn’t eat them for 3 months lol)

#btswriters #kwritersnet #armiesnet #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #jimin fluff #bts fluff

520 notes · View notes