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danniburgh · 3 years

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Sins of the Flesh (priest!Dave York x f!reader)

Pairing: priest!Dave York x f!reader

Summary: His mind shouldn’t be on the new catechesis teacher as he cleaned the chalice after handing communion. His thoughts shouldn’t be on the young girl he knew for so long as he blessed the congregation and finished mass.

But you were different now. Something in you had changed. “Lord, have mercy on me.”

Word count: +10.9k

Warnings: religion! catholic religion to be precise, a lot A LOT of religious references and undertones (shot every time you find one lmao), age gap (around 15 years, reader is legal), smut, unprotected p in v, oral sex, breaking of celibacy vows!, catholic guilt, me making divine metaphors... i think thats it.

A/N: first of all this is all @asta-lily’s fault, she asked why no one had turned this man into a priest and i said “ok ill do it” so i did it, she is to blame. also i wanna say thanks to the pocket wives that encouraged this creation, sorry my loves, this isnt as slutty as yall thought lmao, and thanks to @alliterative-albatross who gave me all the bible verses that shaped this story as well. and i wanna thank the creator of this playlist that i listened over and over while writing this, and yeah, sorry for this monstrosity, love you <3

Masterlist // Read on ao3 // ko-fi

comments and reblogs are eternally appreciated 💓

moodboard by @asta-lily

“So whoever knows the right thing to do and fails to do it, for him it is sin.”–James 4:12.

Sunday 1.

Like a piece in a puzzle.

That’s how you fit in.

There, sitting in the middle of a ten people polished wood bench, eyes on the four feet tall crucified Jesus on the wall above the altar, ready for the first sermon you were to hear after coming back home.

Home. That was the name.

That church felt like home.

You were enjoying sitting there, among the children you met a couple of hours earlier when you were introduced to them as their new catechesis teacher, breathing in and out the myrrh incense burning and invading the navel and your lungs, filling them with new energy, getting them ready to feel the love that you were sure was about to pour over you.

You heard your name behind you and you turned around to see Mrs. Stevens, one of your mother’s friends waving at you from two rows behind.

“Hi, honey!” she smiled at you and immediately you reciprocated “I heard you were in town, are you staying this time?”

You drowned a chuckle inside your chest and bit your lip, nodding. Just realizing you even had missed the venomous messages hidden behind the kind words mouthed by old catholic moms.

“Yes, Mrs. Stevens, I’m staying this time.” you replied, the woman lifted her hand a bit to the sky and you smirked to her.

“God bless, I bet your mom is delighted you’re here!” she muttered “I know she missed you terribly all those years you were in that school.”

“It’s called college, Mrs. Stevens,” you reminded the woman, and she rolled her eyes, making you chuckle softly again “but do not worry for my mama anymore, I graduated, I’m staying for good.” you told her, amused at the way she acted as if you staying at home was some godsend blessing.

The organ began to play on the upper balcony behind everyone and you saw two altar boys, carbon copy of each other, almost rushing their way to the altar, and behind them… Father Dave.

You smiled softly at the sight of him as he walked solemnly to the altar, his green chasuble flowing with the air and the movement, there was a thought you had all those years you were away from home because of school, always coming back to Father Dave York: the young priest that decided to stay in the first congregation he was sent to, the one that became a pillar to the community, the holy man that held the direct link to God and that gave you your first communion, the one you missed when you went to attend mass at the church near campus because no one gave the sermons like he did. For some reason, whenever you least expected, you thought of him.

You saw him putting his bible on top of the pressed cloth over the altar, kneel and kiss the center of it and cross himself. And then, after he closed his eyes and muttered a prayer to himself and to God, he opened his deep brown eyes and he looked at you.

“Let us pray.”

Your mouth dried when his deep timbered voice, with the help of a small microphone on his altar, wrapped the entire navel and you with it, he looked at you as he cleared his throat and he opened his arms to the sky, breaking eye contact with you.

“Lord, have mercy.” he murmured, and the congregation replied to his prayer as you struggled to find the air that had escaped your lungs.

As Father Dave guided the congregation through the sermon and through the prayers, all you could see was him.

In some way, there was something different about him you hadn’t noticed the last time you were there; you didn’t know if it was something about his deep voice as he recited the credo by muscle memory, the way he walked from one side of the sanctuarium to the other as he talked about the scripture or the way his hands wrapped around the chalice when one of the altar boys handed it to him as the organ echoed all around the navel, announcing the communion.

You stood up and walked to the back of the line and sighed as he lifted the wafer to the sky, and your eyes closed by themselves when he lifted the chalice and took a sip from the sacramental wine and locked your eyes on him as the line moved.

As soon as you were in front of him your lips parted and he smiled at you softly.

“The body of Christ.” he murmured, his deep brown eyes on yours as they filled with tears.

“Amen” and you opened your mouth.

He put the wined wafer between your lips and his thumb brushed with your chin, making your skin burn as you brought it inside of your mouth with your tongue and forced yourself to walk away from him.

As you returned to your seat with the gold cross that hung from your neck between your fingers and kneeled to pray for the forgiving of your sins, all you could think of was brown, deep eyes, and a soft, brief touch on your chin that burned more than the wax of a burning taper.

Dave felt it.

The way you looked at him throughout the entire service.

And it made him feel different.

When you rose from your seat to walk to the communion line, he saw the way your body moved, almost as if you were floating instead of walking.

He knew you were back, and his heart was happy you were finally home.

But he didn’t expect to see you so changed.

And he didn’t expect the way your eyes had made him feel.

Then you were in front of him, and he smiled because he remembered the first time he handed the body of Christ to you, years and years before.

And your eyes filled with tears as his breath hitched when your lips parted for him as he fed you the sacred soul of the savior.

God, have mercy.

His mind shouldn’t be on the new catechesis teacher as he cleaned the chalice after handing communion. His thoughts shouldn’t be on the young girl he knew for so long as he blessed the congregation and finished mass.

But you were different now. Something in you had changed.

Lord, have mercy on me. He thought as he entered the sacristy.

“Whoever conceals his transgressions will not prosper, but he who confesses and forsakes them will obtain mercy.”–Proverbs 28:13.

Sunday 2.

“Forgive me, father, for I have sinned.” Dave heard your voice next to him and felt the air leave from his lungs. Not you, please God, not you.

You had been avoiding Father Dave for almost the entire week.

And you felt guilty about it.

You couldn’t even look at him in the eyes and not think about those dreams you were having about him.

If God was all love and perfection, why was he tempting you with dreams of Father Dave, his own servant, touching you in places you got shivers from, warming your body with his own, putting his mouth on your skin as you repeated his name like it was the sanctus?

Holy, holy, holy.

Why was God putting inside your head the sins of the flesh you had already asked forgiveness for? Why was he making you desire a forbidden man? A man that was not to be perceived as a man but as the representation of him on earth.

That morning, when you walked into the church to impart the catechesis class, you saw Jesus on the cross and you saw him look at you. And you knew he knew.

All omnipresent, all omniscient, all omnipotent.

You couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Almighty God why were you thinking about him so much?

And the resolution in your mind was asking for forgiveness, you needed to pay penitence for those thoughts you knew you did.

But were you really about to confess to the man you had been dreaming about that he was invading your every thought?

“It has been two weeks since my last confession.” you mumbled, playing with your cross over your neck, Dave breathed in deeply and intertwined his hands on his lap.

“What are your sins?” he asked, closing his eyes as he remembered his own.

Dave was always a man of faith. It was in him from birth. He had been taught and trained to not fall into any temptations and so far his life had been devoted and dedicated to God and only to God.

But your eyes and the way you saw him, and the way your eyes made him feel when they locked on his, had him spiraling down into decadence.

Sometimes, dedicating his life to the word of the Lord made him forget he was still a human, he was still a man.

He had needs.

And he was alright before your eyes. Before your holy eyes were on him.

He had dreamed of them; he had thought of them; he had imagined them when he was in the limbo between sleep and awakeness.

He had dreamed of your lips, of your lips on his skin, he had thought of those lips that just looked like they needed someone to wet them and bring them back to life; he had imagined those lips of yours in places of his body he swore never to use.

He had prayed for them to disappear; he had begged to his God to erase those thoughts of his mind and free them from the temptation that was incarnated in you, in your body, in your eyes that denied to see him when you were in the same room, in your hands as you moved them to teach the children, in your legs trapped in the tight denim of your jeans, in your lips as you smiled to everyone but him, in your entire being, just by existing.

But they had increased, like a tamed flame sprayed with gasoline. He had a fire in his chest, one that was spreading through him as he was closer to you.

He needed them gone; he had sworn to never look at a woman as an object of desire; he had sworn on his life and he had vowed his commitment.

But you were there, kneeling next to him, separated by the thinnest patterned panel, holding the matches and the fuel.

“I’ve been having… improper thoughts, father,” you whispered, closing your eyes and left your necklace alone, clutching your hands together as tight as you could, you felt the aura change and the air grow thicker between him and you, “about a man.”

Dave opened his eyes at your confession and frowned. A man?

He knew you could tell him whatever you wanted; he knew he wasn’t allowed to ask in for details; he knew he was only there functioning as a link for you to get absolved from your sins and you were a young woman granted of free will and enough time to ask for absolution but he wanted to know; he needed to know who that man was.

“He is ol–older than me,” he heard you mumble and his hands tightened their grip on each other “and I can’t have him, father, I–I’ve been having these thoughts about a forbidden man.”

Dave’s mind went reeling, and he didn’t understand why. He didn’t like to assume about the life of his congregation members, he never did, but you were talking to him, after he had been dreaming about you for days, after you two shared something about desiring another man. And he was angry. He wanted to know who. He wanted to know who was keeping your mind the same way you were keeping his.

“He keeps me up at night, thinking of him, that is,” you whispered “I’ve–Jesus,” you let out the air of your lungs and Dave breathed in deeply once more “I’ve touched myself thinking of him.” you said under your breath and Dave felt his chest tug and turn.

“Does this man… know what he is causing in you?” he muttered with a frown and heard you sigh.

“No, I don’t want him to.”

“Alright, child,” he replied after a few seconds, and made a grimace of disgust at the pet name. It felt wrong, and he felt dirty with the word on his mouth, “do you repent these sins?”

“Yes, father, I do.” you closed your eyes at his words and wanted, for once, to be brave and tell him he was the one roaming around your mind. But it wasn’t fair.

“Please, recite in silence the act of contrition,” he muttered to you and you obeyed, feeling your eyes fill with tears.

As he waited for you to finish, he did the same on his side of the confession box

I’m choosing to sin and failing to do good.

“Amen.” you said, and he murmured the word to the ceiling.

“I think the word you do for the church,” he started, and you wrinkled your nose at the thought of him knowing it was you “the devotion you have, and how you repent, you don’t need to pay penance,” he muttered separating his hands and putting two fingers on the edge of the patterned panel that separated the two of you “through the ministry of the church,” your breath hitched as he whispered the words to you, and you saw with teary eyes the shadow of his fingers on the panel “man God give you pardon and peace,” you bit your lip and unclutched your hands, lifting your fingers and pressing it to his as two heavy tears fell from your eyes.

Dave felt the pressure of your touch and felt his hand tremble.

“And I ab–absolve you from your sin.” he said under his breath, pressing back.

“Thank you, father.” you whispered, not moving your fingers. You could feel the warmth of his through it and for a few seconds, you could also feel his eyes on your face.

Dave was the one to break the contact first. Absentmindedly brushing his fingers on his stole as he saw the shadow of you move and get out of the confession box.

He sat there, thankful you were the only one that morning and thinking about what you had told him.

A man of God, a man of hope. He had hoped, even if it was a sin and even if it was forbidden by pure creed and vow, that you were feeling the same as he was.

For a moment, he wondered about those thoughts… Were you thinking about that lucky old man touching you? Were you thinking about that man kissing you? What did that man look like? He wanted to be that man; he wanted to be the one whose touch you desired; he wanted to be that man you thought of as you sneaked your hand inside your underwear at night and brought yourself to pleasure. He wanted to be the one whose kiss you yearned for as your sex ached for attention; he wanted to be the one whose fingers you imagined as your own were buried deep inside you.

He fisted the flesh of his thigh over his dress pants and forced himself to stop thinking of you like that.

Dave stayed inside the confession box for twenty minutes more, praying for forgiveness, as he had done every night since you had been back.

At service, he saw you further back on the benches and he tried not to sneak glances at you as you sat there with your precious eyes on the crucifix above him, avoiding him at all costs.

And at communion, he tried not to brush your soft skin with his fingers as he fed you the wined wafer, failing when his knuckle brushed your cheek, his chest deflating when he noticed the way your face quirked in pain when you muttered Amen at him. Dave tried not to make anything of the fact that you kneeled more time than anyone else on the congregation after receiving the communion.

And when the service was over and he was alone in the sacristy, he tried and failed to not think about your skin, your eyes, your hands and your lips all over his neglected body.

That sunday night Father Dave masturbated in the shower thinking about you with your fingers deep inside you as his mind imagined it was him you thought of when you touched yourself in the darkness of the night and prayed for forgiveness.

He shouldn’t be thinking about you like that.

“Beloved, I urge you as sojourners and exiles to abstain from the passions of the flesh, which wage war against your soul.”–1 Peter 2:11.

Sunday 3.

“Father, sh–shit,” you bit your lip to stop yourself from moaning as your pointer and middle fingers circled your wet clit under the covers of your bed, your legs spread open, the soft cotton of the sheets grazing softly at your inner thighs as you imagined your fingers being one of Father Dave’s, as you imagined him next to you, with his arm above your head as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear and nibbled at your neck while his other hand played your clit like a master pianist. You imagined the hardness of his erection pressing patiently on the skin of your hip, wetting it with pre-semen, making your body burn with the feeling of his warm naked body beside you.

As your other hand played with your nipple you imagined his eyes taking you in, you imagined his lips on your skin, were they soft? you bet they were, and you bet as well his hand would be surprisingly rough for a priest.

“Jesus, fu–fuck.” the knot inside your lower belly exploded with the thought of him and his hand and his body and his lips and his priesthood and you came with a silent scream that made your ears ring for a few seconds and your legs tremble on the bed.

As you hazed out, ready to fall asleep again before your alarm went off to go to work at the church, you felt that familiar guilt cripple inside you and settle in your chest, warming up and leaning against your heart.

Dave was panting, he fisted his hand as he leaned on the tiled wall of his shower and his other hand moved desperately on his cock. The water was still warm, and he closed his eyes shut as he imagined it was your hand on him, giving him the pleasure he was seeking, as he imagined you were behind him, your lips brushing against the wet skin of his back, your free hand around his chest, gliding softly at his skin, making him whimper with your touch.

It was so early for him to be so hot over you again; it wasn’t good for him to give into these desires he had and had been praying so hard and so much to get rid of.

He didn't want to keep doing it and he surely didn’t feel good after it, but his body ached for you, his chest turned every time he thought about you, every time he saw you around the church, he felt the deepest, hottest desire for you and your hands and your body and he just couldn’t help it.

His hand gripped and pumped as fast as he could and he came with a silent groan, opening his eyes as he finished milking every drop of his seed and watched it mix with the shower water and go down the drain. Along with the decency and morality that was left inside him.

You heard your name being said, and you turned around as you finished picking up your things from the small desk you used to teach the catechism; you saw Mrs. Vega, the church custodian, a small, old lady that had known you forever, walking towards you.

“I’m sorry dear, but I want to ask you for something.” she said when you smiled at her.

“Of course, Mrs. Vega, what is it?” you put your small book inside your bag and hung it from your shoulders.

“You see, the little twins that help Father Dave are sick today,” you frowned at the mention of Father’s Dave name but let out a sad sigh at her statement, “and they can’t come help with the service, you’re the youngest of the teachers, could you do it?”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise and felt your stomach churn inside you at the thought of standing next to the altar for a whole service.

“Me?” you asked, your voice in a high pitch as Mrs. Vega reached for your arm and tugged you to walk out of the chapel and into the navel of the church.

“Yes, dear, remember only the youngest get to do it.” she obviated, pulling you with her to the transept and up two steps to the sanctuarium “you only need to hand him the communion things and the holy water, I will prepare everything for you.”

“Why don’t you do it?” you asked in a whisper, not daring to take a step further closer to the altar. Mrs. Vega turned to look at you, and she narrowed her eyes.

“Since when are you shy, girl?” she asked with a teasing smile “I remember you singing in that kiddie choir we used to have and doing it terribly,” you chuckled at the memory and bit your lip “it’s only until the boys get that bug they got out of them.” she palmed your arm, and you breathed in deeply.

You looked up at the crucified Jesus above the altar and silently begged him for anticipated forgiveness.

Dave almost cursed when he saw you standing next to the altar as he walked across the navel.

The thought of who would replace Bobby and Chris on their altar duties didn’t even cross his mind as he was more worried about praying for the boys and sending them some sweets and pleading for the cleansing of his soul after the incident on his shower earlier that morning.

As he stepped up to the sanctuarium your eyes locked on his and he noticed you lips parting when he nodded his chin once at you, he noticed the way you swallowed as you nodded back and for a brief second, his imagination ran wild and made him believe you felt the same way as he did about you.

Even if it was the wrongest thing to think about.

It was like torture.

An hour of torture.

You got to see him kneel behind the altar and kiss the white pressed cloth softly as he stood, as you wanted and wished to be the altar’s cloth he pressed his plump lips on, he crossed himself and you mimicked his movements. And for a brief fraction of a second, as he opened his arms to the sky, you saw him looking at you out of the corner of his eye. And his eyes burned in your skin, they made you feel like your chest was aflame.

The communion time arrived, and he turned to you as you grabbed the chalice with the wine, his eyes locked with yours and you felt them weigh heavy on your body.

Dave couldn't concentrate, he felt on his side the way you were looking at him. It was heavily distracting for him to have you there, in his space, so close to him.

His hands brushed yours when he took the chalice from you and he stood there for less than a second, his fingers on yours. His soft touch and warm skin made your lips tremble with the emotion that touching him gave you. You felt a shiver go up and down your spine and the small hairs of your nape rose as his hands trapped yours.

You caught your lip between your teeth as he broke the contact and you knew he noticed; he looked at your lip as you bit it, and you blushed under his and God’s gaze.

You watched him and he felt you observing him as he prepared the wafers and wined them inside the chalice.

Your throat knotted when he lifted the cup to the sky and you felt your mouth dry as he brought the rim to his lip and his neck strained while he took a sip of the sacramental wine.

Because of the closeness you could see the movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed the wine, you noticed a small drop of the crimson red liquid escape from his lips and the way he trapped it with his tongue settled deep inside your belly and leaked through your sex.

The pain of the greatest guilt you’ve ever felt in your short life appeared again and clawed its way inside your chest and to its now usual spot right next to your heart, you were struggling to keep your thoughts at bay; you were looking at Father Dave, right in front of you, doing what he dedicated his life to, and you were imagining him using his hands on your body instead of handling the instruments of the church.

Would he touch you like that? would he treat you with the same delicacy as he treated the body of Christ? would he caress you as softly as he did the chalice? would his mouth be warmed with your taste as it was by the wine he drank?

Dave turned to you and he saw you clutching your hands together, you walked towards him slowly, and he couldn’t stop thinking about the way you moved, almost as if air went through you, as if instead of giving steps your feet barely touched the floor because you were floating.

Everything slowed down, the music of the organ in the balcony, the prayers of the congregation, even the way he moved slowed down so he could focus on your face; on your sweet eyes, those that had brought into him the feeling of humanity, on your soft skin that had scorched his hand when he dared brushed his fingers on it, on your lips, those lips that he couldn’t pray out of his head.

He lifted his hand with the wined wafer, and even the way those holy lips of yours parted was slowed down.

Your eyes connected with his and Dave felt it in his body, deep inside his stomach, the temptation, the whispers of his mortal body as it reacted to your actions; he put the wafer between your lips delicately and pushed it inside your mouth, and then, as if by the grace of God in the heavens, you closed your mouth while he did it, and your lips wrapped softly around the pad of his finger as he pulled them away from you.

And just like that, the world started moving at its usual pace.

His skin tasted sweet. And you spent the rest of the service thinking about what other parts of him would taste like that.

Would his neck taste the same if you kissed it? would his chest feel like that if you nibbled on it? would his lips be that warm or would they be warmer?

Dave’s finger was burning.

He wanted to chop it off his hand just to stop feeling that flesh-eating guilt of enjoying your lips, your soft, warm lips around it, touching his skin, wetting it with the slick of your mouth.

After the service ended and Dave blessed the congregation, he saw you rush to the exit and he felt the sting of the guilt and the sadness. He wanted to talk to you and offer his apologies before you went home.

Sunday 4.

You weren’t there.

And Dave missed your eyes on him.

“I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.”–Romans 12:1.

Sunday 5.

As soon as you walked into the church you felt the eyes of all omnipresent beings on your body. As if the desire that burned deep inside your body left marks all over your skin, that could be visible for all those that looked carefully enough.

You heard your name behind you and jumped slightly, startled. You turned around and felt your blood fall to your feet.

“Father Dave,” you muttered, more to help yourself acknowledge the fact that there he was, standing in front of you, out of habit, his white tab collar was the only piece of his attire that hinted the fact that he was a priest. You tried to control your body as you felt instantly that flame inside your chest beginning to spread.

“You weren’t here last week,” he said, hesitating to step closer to you “are you okay?”

You nodded a few times and bit your lip to stop it from trembling.

“Are you sure?” Father Dave asked, and you dropped your eyes to the floor and saw him give a couple of steps towards you, your breath hitched and your entire body began to shiver when you felt his hand on your arm “I’m sorry.” he whispered.

“What?” you looked up to see him and you could notice his pained quirk, his brow furrowed, his eyes narrowed and his lips… those lips you had spent all but two weeks imagining printing themselves and making marks on your skin, on a sad, downwards line.

“Can I please talk to you?” he said again in a whisper and you opened your mouth to reply, but only air came out, “please?”

His deep brown eyes were on yours and you felt your chest turn by the feeling of having him so close. You nodded, and he turned to the sides, as if he was making sure there was no one there, and guided you to the sacristy.

“What are you doing?” you asked, a bit altered when he opened the door and let you in first, followed you and closed the door behind him.

“I just needed to be alone with you for a minute,” he clarified, you let your eyes wander around the small space where he got ready every day for the services instead of letting them settle on him, because you knew being that close to him wouldn’t help your situation at all “I wanted to apologize.”

You frowned and looked at him. He had his back almost glued to the door and his hands together, his thumbs fidgeting with each other.

“Apologize for what?” you muttered, and he sighed.

“I’m–I make you uncomfortable, and I’m sorry.”

Dave felt stupid telling you that, but it was his truth; he spent every free moment of his days when you weren’t near him thinking maybe it was because of him. It would make sense, that you didn’t want to be there because you didn’t like his closeness, that you didn’t want to be there because he was taking advantage of his position to steal glances and give furtive touches.

He understood, but you were an excellent woman, devoted and committed to the congregation, and he knew he needed to stop or you would leave and he would never see you again. And he couldn’t have that.

“You aren–you…” you babbled, and then the look he gave you made you lose your words.

His eyes were all over you. And you could feel them on your skin, how they took you in, how they navigated through your body and every inch of you was immediately on fire.

Then he looked at your face and you swore you could see in his brown eyes the deepest form of devotion there was. And your mouth was agape and your eyes filled with tears and suddenly he was in front of you and his hands were orbiting your face.

“Can I touch you?” he said, and you nodded.

He cupped your face, and you felt his warm, rough hands scorching your skin as you closed your eyes. His warmth started mixing with your own and you could feel him inside you already. It was as if everything you needed in life was already there.

“You don’t make me uncomfortable,” you whispered, closing your eyes as his fingers started caressing the skin of your face, tracing your features “I swear you don’t”

Dave let out a sigh when his thumb traced the edge of your lips and he so wanted to lean down and take them in his. There had been so long since he last kissed someone and he, for a split second, forgot everything about him and the only thought in his mind was you.

“I don’t?” he asked under his breath as a tear rolled down your cheek and he brushed it off with his knuckles, you shook your head and opened your eyes and he felt his heart fill with the purest love he had ever felt in his life “you swear?” you curled your lips up and nodded twice.

“Can I tell you something?” you muttered, looking up at him and losing yourself in the depths of his brown eyes.

“Always.”

You allowed your hands to slide to his shoulders and you let out a relieved sigh. They fit perfectly.

“Yo–you are…” he nodded his chin, his hands still cupping your face softly as his eyes studied your face, you let out a trembling sigh and grabbed as much courage as you had left within you “you are the man I’ve been thinking of all this time.”

Dave widened his eyes and the movements of his hands stopped, he looked at you, searching for any hint of mischief or lie, searching for something that could tell him you were lying, that you were playing with him. But there was none.

“That’s why I wasn’t here last week,” he heard you say as he felt his heart burn with the flames of his desire and love “I was embarrassed after what happened at the communion.”

You looked at him for a second, waiting for the rejection, waiting for him to tell you what you already know, that he can’t for you what you wanted him to be, that he can’t give you what you wanted as his duty was with God and not with the mortals, let alone with a woman.

Father Dave had resigned to the pleasures of the mundane world; you knew that, but you also knew he deserved to know, even if nothing would happen.

“Am I?” he asked you, bewildered after such confession, you nodded and moved your hands to cup his face, a gesture that made him close his eyes. You wondered when was the last time, if ever, he had been touched like that “we can’t” he replied, opening his eyes and leaning in to you.

You could feel his breathing mixing with yours as the implications of his words fell on you.

“We can’t” he repeated, pushing his forehead to yours as you trembled under his touch.

“You want to?” you asked him and Dave asked for guidance in his mind as you started crying and wetting his hands. He nodded, and you sobbed.

“I can’t” he whispered, and you shook your head as he looked at you pouring your feelings from your eyes.

“Kiss me.” you pleaded, looking into his brown, deep eyes. Making him frown.

“What?”

“If you’re not gonna give me anything, at least kiss me.”

His face quirked from confusion to pain in an instant, and you gripped the hold on his face.

“Please, Dave.”

Dave sighed at the way you whispered his name without calling him a father, and deep inside him he was grateful. With you he didn’t feel like a man of god, with you, letting him touch you and touching him back, he only felt like a man. Like the man he never got the chance to be.

“I–I” he started, and you shook your head. Dave looked into your eyes and all the air he had stored in his lungs left his body in a hurry, you were the most precious being he had ever seen, and for a second, he wanted nothing but to make worth the fact he had you in his hands “shit.” he said under his breath.

Dave brought your face up to him and printed his lips on yours, stealing the little air and the close to no coherence you still had in you. You let out a soft moan out of the surprise and out of the feeling of your entire body warming up to his temperature.

His lips were as soft and as wars and better than you had imagined, they were a bit dry and hesitant on yours, but the contact of them with yours made you feel like you were floating away from the realm of the living.

Dave didn’t want to stop kissing you. He didn’t remember the last time he had kissed a woman, and in that moment he wasn’t kissing any woman he was kissing you; the precious being that had been in his mind for weeks and that had never left.

Unsure of his movements, he let you take control of the contact and soon enough you were sliding the tip of your tongue along the seam of his lips, Dave let out a surprised grunt and opened his mouth slightly of you, and you took his lower lip with your mouth. And he let you kiss him all you wanted, enjoying the contact of your slow, wet, warm lips on his less experienced ones until he was sure his lungs were screaming from the lack of air.

When he broke the kiss, he left a small one on your forehead and pressed his lips there and you closed your eyes to feel him settle inside you

“I’m sorry.” you whispered to his neck. And he nodded slightly.

“Me too.”

“But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart.”–Matthew 5:28.

Sunday 6.

Your knuckles grazed softly with the sacristy door and you heard the muffled noise of the latch and the door opened.

“Hi,” you smiled and Dave looked at you up and down “got your text.”

“Come in.” he motioned his hand for you to hurry and you turned your head to both sides and walked into the sacristy, closed the door behind you and slid the latch.

Immediately after the door was locked, you felt his hands on your waist and his chin on your shoulder.

“This is why you texted me?” you teased and he moved to let a kiss on your jaw.

“I missed you.” he muttered and turned your body around for you to face him.

“You didn’t.” you smiled at him and wrapped your hands around his neck, grateful for the apparently deliberate choice of him to take off his tab collar.

“Yes, I did, I missed you all day.” Dave leaned towards you and took your lips in his, already knowing, after less than a week’s practice, how you loved being kissed.

His lips were as warm as they always were, his tongue barely present if not just to taste the sweetness of your lipstick, his hands always steady on your waist, and at the end, his forehead on yours, just taking in your breaths with his.

“Mass starts soon.” you said, and he nodded, sliding his hands to your middle back to wrap you closer to him.

“I know.” he left another brief kiss on your lips.

“You gotta get dressed.” you murmured against his lips.

“I know.” he muttered back and kissed you again.

“Want me to help?” you asked under your breath, just for him, as if you saying it as low as you could would stop God from listening.

“Yes, I would love that.” Dave replied and gave into another deep kiss that stole both your breath and made you want to stop the time so you could kiss until your lips fused together.

“C’mon you need to get ready.” you broke the kiss and stepped away from him, making him smile. You wandered around the sacristy and found his tab collar. You sighed and took it in your hands.

Dave looked at you and noticed the way you looked at the soft plastic piece, he walked towards you and raised his hand to grab yours. As you felt his hand on yours; you turned your head to look at him and smiled softly, and you moved your hands, raising them to carefully lift the collar of his shirt and clasp the piece around his neck.

“You okay?” he asked in a whisper, you nodded and bit your lip at the sight of him in front of you.

Dave moved and walked to the small table against a wall with a large bowl of water and you gazed at him as he washed his hands and whispered a few words. You leaned onto the wall just looking at him go to a small cabinet near the opposite corner and took a white, folded linen garment, which he unfolded and you recognized as the long robe he used under all his attire.

He slid it off and whispered another prayer again as he let it fall and graze his ankles. His eyes went to you and you smiled at him, he next grabbed a green square that you also recognized and you walked to him and took it out of his hands.

“Let me do it” you whispered, and he nodded, you unfolded the long stripe that was the stole and found its middle, Dave crouched a bit to help you and you let it fall around his neck over his shoulders.

“Return to me the stole of immortality,” he whispered, looking at your eyes, your throat dried at the deepness of his voice “which I have lost in the sin of my first parent and although I, unworthy,” he continued and took your hand in his “approach thy sacred mystery grant to me everlasting joy.”

You gripped his hands and felt your throat knotting around itself.

“Why are you praying to me?” you asked under your breath. He cupped your chin with one hand and brought you close to his face.

“You’re holy.” he whispered and left a soft kiss on your lips.

“Stop it.” you chastised him and he shook his head, giving you a soft smile that you reciprocated immediately.

You turned to the table and saw a long, golden cord and you took it.

“Not that one.” he muttered, and you frowned.

“Why not?” you saw him taking a deep breath as he took it from your hand and left it back on the table.

“The cincture… it means chastity and continence.” he replied under his breath and you let out all the air of your lungs as he took his chasuble and put it on without looking at you.

“Dave.” you called, and he lifted a hand to you as he said the last prayer. When he finished, he looked at you and as if he read your mind, he smiled at you and shook his head.

“Don’t,” he whispered, taking you again in his hands and pulling softly so your head rested on his shoulders “don’t apologize please.”

“I need to,” you mumbled against the light fabric of the green chasuble “I’m keeping you from your vow.”

Dave grabbed your shoulders and pulled you away from his body, his hands slid to your face and you gripped his wrists as he brought your face to his.

“You’re not doing anything, my love,” he muttered the last words directly on your lips as he stole a few kisses from your trembling mouth “you’re perfect,” he panted out and you shook your head “I’m doing this because I want to, please understand it,” he kissed you again, a bit more desperately “you’re the most divine creation I’ve ever laid my eyes and hands upon,” he whispered rapidly on your lips “and I want you to be mine.”

You gasped as the words left his mouth, and he gazed at you.

“Dave...” you started, but he didn’t let you finish, he wrapped his arms around you and brought your body to his, tightening the embrace as he thought of the implications of what he just asked.

Dave lifted his eyes to the ceiling and for the first time in years, with you slowly wrapping your arms around his waist, exactly over the place the cincture was supposed to go around, and the sweet aroma of your perfume inundating his senses, he felt really close to heaven.

“I want you to be mine too.” you whispered into his ear, and he smiled, leaving a kiss on top of your head.

“How beautiful and pleasant you are, O loved one, with all your delights!”–Song of Solomon 7:6.

Sunday 7.

You stirred on your seat again, the organ was playing the latest song before Dave would bless the congregation and wrap up the service and you were nervous.

You glanced at the crucified Jesus above him and you felt his eyes on yours; you felt him shove his holy hand on your chest and as the last notes of the song inundated the navel, you felt your throat sting with the green tint of your deep guilt, but at the same time, the rest of your body drown with the red warmth of your love and desire for Dave.

Is it worth it? you heard inside your head and your immediate response was yes.

Eternal damnation in exchange for a few hours of love. It was condemnedly worth it.

The service was over and you stood up with the rest of the congregation; you talked with a few people on your way out of the church and slowly and patiently you waited for everyone to disperse.

You walked around the gardens outside the church and slid between the gate that marked the beginning of Dave’s small house inside the church grounds. You rummaged around your small bag and pulled out the key he had given you earlier and with nervousness and the familiar guilt settled next to your heart; you let yourself into his house.

You turned on the lights. The space wasn’t big, but it wasn’t small and everything around smelled like him. For a priest’s home, the place lacked religious imagery, and you automatically chastised yourself for thinking about his priesthood again.

You sat on the loveseat next to the door as you waited for him and got dragged inside your head again; you talked about doing that throughout the week and you had agreed it was something you both wanted. But your head sent you through an unwanted train of thought and you sat there, thinking about the future. Something you hadn’t talked about.

After all, he would still be a priest and you would still be a young member of his congregation. You could spend time with him and let you love him and let him love you as much as you two wanted, but in the future… what else was there for you?

You could never ask him to leave his habit for you, you could never ask him to leave his life for you, you could never do something like that to him. But you were unsure if something like that had any other path but failure.

The door opened and there he was, unclasping his tab collar and dropping it on the end table as you rose from your seat and walked to him. He smiled at you and his hands found his place on your waist.

“You’re here.” he said, not surprised but relieved.

As he took off his attire in the sacristy and walked to his house from the church, he had a few minutes to think about what he was about to do. He didn’t allow himself to overthink it because if there was something he knew was that he wanted it; he wanted it more than he had wanted anything in his life. He couldn’t explain it even if he tried, but he knew there was something about you that made him feel human, there was something about you that made him feel like he belonged somewhere, maybe the way you talked to him, maybe the way you kissed him, maybe the way you always seemed to understand the moral and spiritual dilemma he was in. He didn’t know, but he knew that he loved you, even if he wasn’t supposed to, even when he wasn’t allowed.

And as he thought of it, love was one of the laws of the God he represented, and he felt it deeply.

“I’m here.” he pulled you to him as you wrapped your arms around his neck and nodded.

“Thank you.” you closed your eyes and bit your lip, shaking your head at him.

You felt his lips on yours as they re-discovered your kisses and his hands roamed to your middle back to press your chest to his.

You were amazed by how fast he had learned how you liked to be touched, how you liked to be kissed and caressed, as if he was just trying to commit to memory everything you ever wanted and he wanted to do it to you to please you.

Dave slid his hands from your back down to your hips and moved you softly to the side, without breaking the kiss he snaked his hands to the back of your thighs and lifted you. You smiled in his mouth and wrapped your legs around his waist as he walked to his bedroom.

When you crossed the doorframe you started leaving small kisses on the skin of his neck and he sat on the edge of his bed with you in his lap, you were already feeling the hardness growing inside his pants and his hands started grazing up and down your thighs as he let you taste his neck how you best pleased.

Dave was in a haze. He understood then the power of physical touch combined with deep love; it enhanced the sensations, the flame inside his chest was burning him from the inside out with a deep desire he was sure he had never felt before, and you were there, moving slowly on his lap as you devoured the skin of his neck and kissed slowly around his jaw.

“Dave,” you whispered as you licked his earlobe and pulled out a shiver from him, he hummed in question “touch me.”

He didn’t hesitate on questioning where, his hands roamed all around your body, they were big and warm and they were rough; you cupped his jaw with both hands and took his lips in yours with a wet, open-mouthed kiss that he followed as his hands snuck inside your shirt and you moaned softly at the feeling of skin to skin.

You moved out of his lap and stood up in front of him, Dave let out a soft whine at the sudden loss of your weight on his body but stopped when you moved his legs open and stood between them.

“Take off my shirt, please.” you told him, not in an order but he obeyed, he grabbed the hem of it and lifted it, you raised your arms and felt his lips on your rib side as you finished taking it off and dropped it on the floor behind you.

Dave put his hands around your torso and licked your skin experimentally, which made you gasp at the feeling of his wet tongue against your skin and he smiled to himself, doing it again and nibbling on the same spot softly.

His hands slid to your waist and without being told to he unbuttoned your jeans and dragged them down slowly, his eyes directly on yours. You smiled at him with your reddened, kiss-swollen lips and he felt your smile settling inside his lower belly, his cock twitching inside his pants.

You put your hands on his shoulders as he helped you out of your shoes and jeans and when you were there, standing in front of him only in your underwear, he swore there wasn’t anything more divine than your body.

You sank on your knees and your hands landed on his thighs, Dave’s throat clutched and his chest turned as you smiled at him and your hands slid to his belt, you raised your eyebrows as if asking for permission and he nodded a few times, leaning backward into his hands to give you space for you to do whatever you wanted to him.

You unbuckled his belt and opened his pants, his breath hitched when your fingers hooked to the hem of both his pants and his boxers, and then he lifted his hips for you to pull them off him. Dave smiled when he saw you bite your lip at the sight of his hard cock resting on his abdomen. It did something unexpected on what he thought was his dead ego, but he loved the way you looked at it.

“Take off your shirt.” you said and again, without it being an order, he obeyed. Unbuttoned it as quickly as he could and slid it off his shoulders as you leaned over his lap and took his erection on your hand, your thumb grazing softly the tip and he threw his head back between his shoulders.

“Oh, my love.” he sighed out as you started pumping slowly and when he closed his eyes, you licked the underside and wrapped your lips around the tip, making him gasp.

You took it slowly, enjoying the taste of his pre-cum as it came out of him, pumping the rest you couldn’t fit inside your mouth with your hand.

Dave forced his eyes open and moved his head down to watch you, he shivered when he found you already looking at him; he moved his hand to your face and with his knuckles caressed your cheek, making you smile with his cock inside your mouth.

For him, looking at you on your knees between his legs was like looking at a sacrosanct painting; your lips around him taking as much of his length as you could, your saliva dripping from his dick to your hand, bobbing your head up and down as your eyes, those holy eyes that never left his, it was a pleasure he never thought he would get in his earthly life.

He felt himself close to cumming, and he pushed your head softly upwards, you rose from your knees and clashed your messy lips onto his and he wrapped his arms around your waist, his large hands roaming around the skin of your back. His fingers played with the back of your bra and he broke the kiss for a few seconds to unhook it and help you slide it off, you smiled when he sighed at the sight of your breasts in front of his face and he pulled you flush against his head, taking a nipple in his mouth.

The warmth of his mouth and the wetness of his tongue around the soft skin of your nipple made you cry out his name softly and arousal gathered between your legs. One of his hands rested on your other boob and kneaded delicately as you fisted his hair in your hand. Dave moved his mouth to your other nipple and lapped at it before trapping it inside his mouth, you pressed his head to your chest and let out a moan when his teeth grazed your nipple as he released it.

“I wanna taste you.” he muttered against your boob and you smiled at him, nodding.

He moved you softly to lie down on the bed; the sheets were cool and soft and he stood on the edge, taking you in again, studying your body.

He leaned down to you and you opened your legs to make space for him; he hovered over your body and kissed you again, softly, as if you were back in time to the first kiss he gave you in the sacristy, as if he wasn’t about to devour your body.

His kisses traveled from your mouth to your neck and your chest, he left one in each nipple, making you laugh, he left a trail of them over your belly and one over your belly button. As he kissed your abdomen and your thighs, you looked at the ceiling and you smiled at whoever was watching.

Dave took the hem of your panties on his fingers and you lifted your hips for him to slip them off you, you lifted your legs and he unhooked them from your ankles, grabbing your calves and opening your legs again. He gulped when he saw your wet, expectant pussy right in front of him and looked at your flushed face. He leaned down and left kisses around your thighs without breaking eye contact.

“Guide me.” he whispered and left a kiss right over the hood of your clit, making you moan.

You nodded once, and he looked at your pussy, opened the lips gently with his fingers and blew on your slick folds, making you shiver. He flattened his tongue and licked from your slit to your clit, tasting your arousal, moaning at the richness of it.

You slid your hand to your clit and looked at him.

“Here.” you mumbled, circling a few times to show him how. He had told you he had sex before his ordination, because he didn’t want to go into his holy orders without having experienced it and wondering for the rest of his life what he had missed, but he said it wasn’t as good as he thought it would be and before you, he thought he would never know. So you had to show him what you wanted and what you liked because his experience wasn’t vast.

Dave did as you showed and you moaned out loud, the pads of his fingers were warmer and bigger than yours and he was handling you so delicately you were already on edge.

He kept licking and circling your clit and then, without a second thought, he moved his fingers away and started circling your clit with his tongue.

“Oh m–my god,” you fisted his hair, pushing his face into your pussy and he pressed your hips onto the mattress, looking at your face with your mouth opened in pleasure and your eyes closed shut “Dave ke–keep doing that baby,” you pleaded and he did it, and started playing the pad of one of his fingers on your slit, making your hips buck slightly he saw you pant and smiled when you slid your free hand to play with your nipple so he added a second one to play with your entrance “inside, put them inside.” you said under your breath and he pushed his fingers slowly inside your cunt, making you let out a long moan of his name, he started pumping and curling his fingers inside as he had imagined you doing it all those weeks ago while touching himself in the shower and closed his eyes to hear you moan his name as he brought you closer and closer to pleasure.

He moved his fingers faster inside of you and hand fisted and pulled his hair as your moans became tamed screams and he thought of them as the most pious symphony that he and only him had the sacred pleasure to hear.

You wrapped a leg around his shoulders as you felt the knot inside your belly explode from his ministrations and you chanted his name over and over as he worked you through your orgasm. You panted for a few seconds and opened your eyes to the sight of Dave licking his fingers clean. You smiled at him and released his hair to motion him to come to you; he hovered over your body again and you put your hand on his nape to bring him to you; you moaned softly at your own taste and you felt it smile on your lips.

“What?” you asked in a whisper.

“Did you like it?” he asked back on your lips, you nodded and cupped his clean-shaven jaw, leaving a deep kiss on his lips.

“I loved it,” he smiled, and you wrapped your legs around his waist and felt his cock brushing lightly against your folds. “make love to me, Dave.”

You saw his smile widen, and it was his turn to nod to you, he kissed you again while his hand worked on aligning himself to you; he slid the tip through your folds and you gasped on his mouth when he found your entrance and started pushing in.

He did it slowly, no rush; he wanted to feel you in every inch of his cock; he wanted you to feel him and every ridge and vein of him as he found his home in you.

You nipped at his lip as he bottomed up and smiled when he stayed there, inside you, enjoying the wait for your body to acclimate to his, you looked into his eyes and you felt it.

You felt how you two fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

As if his body was made for you and your body was made for him.

It felt right.

It felt sacred.

Dave started moving at a calmed pace and you with him, quickly finding a rhythm where your hips moved almost in unison and he thrusted into you deeply every time he moved. He was supporting his weight on one arm next to you while the other gripped your hip and helped you with the tantalizing dance you both were having.

He hid his face in the crook of your neck when your hands moved to his back and you pulled his body down to yours, his chest gliding yours and his hips circling as he thrusted faster into you.

Dave moaned into your neck when you scratched his back as his thrusts became pounds.

“Harder, please, baby, harder.” you whispered into his ear and he listened, driving into you as fast as his body allowed, the noise of his skin clashing with yours and the wetness of you leaking around his cock flooded the room and his moans grew louder and you dug your nails into his skin chanting his name as you got closer and closer to your second release.

“Yo–you’re a goddess,” he muttered into the skin of your neck as his cock grazed your cervix, his hand wrapped around your hips and he lifted your ass for him to thrust deeper, making you moan his name loudly “you’re m–my go–goddess.”

You slid your hands to his ass and fisted his buttcheeks, pushing him further into you.

Dave felt his orgasm closer and closer every time he drove into you and your warm walls started to clench around him with the closeness of your orgasm, he nibbled the skin of your neck and clutched his eyes shut tighter when his body started to stiffen as he pounded into you; he muttered your name a few times like a prayer he never knew he needed to make, and it sounded right, your name in his voice as he drove himself and you to climax, his own name on your sweet voice as you begged him for everything he had in himself, it was all right, it was all correct, there was nothing wrong, how could he had felt so guilty about it when it was the most perfect, most righteous, most sacred, most heavenly action he could do.

You in his arms, your hands on his body, his cock inside your cunt, you wrapped around him begging him to cum inside you, everything about it was all he could have asked for to feel like he was in heaven. He had almost said no to feel it, and he bursted inside you at the same time as you broke in pieces around him, thinking that he would rather live his life with you around him than his afterlife in heaven.

“I love you.” he muttered against the skin of your neck and you opened your eyes after riding the high of your orgasm and looked at the ceiling.

You frowned when you heard his words and when you remembered what he said to you before he came, and as you turned to the side to see him that red warmth you had felt earlier disappeared almost completely and the bright green taint of the deep guilt inside you washed over your body and your soul.

He looked at you and narrowed his eyes. His expression changed as he realized you weren’t going to answer his confession.

“Dave,” you whispered and his face changed, his brow furrowed and you saw his jaw tighten “what did we just do?”

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fiveisnumber1 · 3 years

Text

Timeless - Five Hargreeves x Reader

Main story parts:

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32

Warnings: Click Here

_________________________

Pt 32 - Me, Lu, and Five Times Two

He's me?

Confused you looked over at the older gentleman, your eyes scanning him up and down trying to figure out what Five meant. Everything seemed typical for a middle-aged businessman but then you noticed it. The pair of familiar eyes looking back at you. You looked back up towards your boyfriend just to make sure you were seeing things right. After all that commotion at the commission, you were worried your brain might have been scrambled. But when you looked back over you realized you weren't going crazy because they matched.

"Five," you called softly

Commission Five felt his heart jump as you called his name. He had heard your voice in his head and the imaginary version of you said his name plenty of times before, but watching you say it alive and in front of him felt different. In a good way. A very good way. You tried to step out of the embrace you were sharing with your boyfriend but as you pulled back he pulled you in tighter. There was no way he was going to let this old, mess of a man take you away from him. Rolling your eyes, you used your powers to phase through his arms quickly so no one would notice. Turning around you made your way over to commission Five.

Although he had met your eyes before, he now looked down at the ground. How could he bring himself to look at you after the mistakes he had made in the past. You died because of his rash actions. Slowly, you stepped closer and closer to him.

Although you couldn't gauge his expression with his face down, you knew Five like the back of your hand and had a good idea of what was going through his mind. You weren't told much about your death but you knew enough about the events that occurred. One of those events being that Five witnessed it. It was and most likely would always be his biggest regret. When your boyfriend had first seen you again upon his return he was emotional and apologetic. Since this was him before the time jump you could only imagine that this version was feeling the same way. Maybe more so since he was seeing you again without any preparation. You felt for the guy. That was still your best friend there. Stepping forward toward the other version of your friend, you slowly opened your arms before gently wrapping them around him.

Commission Five stood there frozen, shocked by the realness of it all. As he started to process what was going on though he slowly wrapped his arms back around you, holding you tightly like his life depended on it. If he let go he worried you would disappear from him again.

Academy Five on the other hand could feel his blood boil in a way that he had never experienced before. Maybe it was the paradox psychosis getting to him? No, he wasn't experiencing psychosis at all. He was fine! It was more likely because of the scum of the earth with his grubby hands all over HIS girlfriend! His eyes narrowed on his commission version and if looks could kill his other self would've been six feet under by now. It truly was a miracle that he was still standing, but every second more that you hugged that washed-up walking failure, Academy Five became less and less stable. Unable to stand you hugging him one more second, Five stated,

"Alright, that's enough."

Pulling you from the hug, Five wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, your back pressed flush against him. The two Fived glared at each other with malice in their eyes. You could feel the tension building in the air and shot a look to Luther for some kind of help. These were two versions of your best friend, you didn't want to make either of them feel bad but your entire existence around these two was like walking a tight rope. Instead of helping Luther shot back a shrug and it was with that action that you knew you had to try and figure this out on your own. Taking on a sarcastic tone you comment to Academy Five,

"Y'know, I knew we would have to deal with jealousy at some point but I never thought it would start with yourself."

"Jealous? There's nothing to be jealous about with him." Academy Five remarked, his glare unwavering

"Don't flatter yourself you little jack-off." Commission Five retorted

Feeling the tension in the air grow, you broke out of your boyfriend's hold and stepped in between the two using your presence as a divider. If one thing was true about Five, it's that if you wanted something he would do it for you. Trying to ease the hostility you suggested,

"ALRIGHT! How about we just sit down and chat for a little bit?"

The Fives continued to glare at each other. Their silent intent to harm seemingly having no end. Trying to get them to quell their mutual antagonism was going to be more of a challenge than you thought. Reworking your original statement, you added,

"It would make ME happy if we sat down and chatted."

You could see the change in their facial expressions as they dealt with the conflict between being mad at the other and wanting to make you happy. Obviously, one was more important to them compared to the other and after a moment of silence the two of them let out identical huffs and simultaneously agree,

"Fine."

Luther happily goes to sit down trying to avoid being in the middle of the shit show that was brewing before him. You stand there as the two Fives stand-off, each waiting for the other to make the first move. They had to prove to you that they were the superior Five. Rolling your eyes, you gesture to the two seats across from each other that still had pints of beer in front of them.

"Let's SIT." You emphasized

Slowly, the two of them start to make their way towards their respective seats, eyes locked on each other to make sure the other didn't pull something. When they finally sit down you head over to join them but as you approach the empty seat your boyfriend jumps back up from his to pull the chair out for you. Caught off guard, you freeze in place before realizing what was going on. Slowly, you take your seat as Five pushes your chair in.

Academy Five shot a shit-eating grin towards his counterpart. He was the better of the two Fives and he was going to make that known to the other one and you. That bag of dust had nothing on him and he knew it. Commission Five on the other hand shot back a death glare. How dare that late-stage puberty sack have the idea to pull out your chair like a stupid little gentleman. You wait for Academy Five to make his way back to his seat and sit down before turning your attention towards him, to the dismay of Commission Five. Taking a breath, you put on a more serious tone as you ask your boyfriend,

"So...do you have any semblance of a plan to get out of this timeline, Five?"

Five's smug look drops as he finally realized that he wasn't actually expecting you to be here with him when he confronted himself. And now with his idea to use you as blackmail out the window any leverage he had over his counterpart was pretty much gone. Sure, he still had the main plan of getting the briefcase but that was about it at this point. With his lack of response, you leaned forward and questioned,

"Five?"

"Well...like I told you back at Elliott's, it's a Hail Mary." Five replied

"Which is?" You press

"I want to use the briefcase that Scummy the Commission Agent over here has since HE DOESN'T NEED IT." Five responds, annoyance evident in his voice

"Although a little rude in your delivery, that's a solid plan. What's the issue then?" You quest

"HIM! He's the issue. He doesn't want to give it to me!" Five exclaims

You turn your head towards Commission Five and see him scratching the back of his neck. He was starting to look ill in a similar fashion to your own boyfriend. You were concerned about his state of being but also about your ability to get out of the 60s. You needed to find out why he wouldn't help you out. Trying to be polite about the situation you question calmly,

"Five, why not? We're not supposed to be in this timeline, and that could help us get home."

"I can't trust him." Commission Five replies bluntly

You furrow your eyebrows at his response. He couldn't trust himself? Had he lost his mind?

"But he's you...?" You questioned confused

Commission Five knew that this might be confusing to you since you saw them as the same person. The problem was that they were two completely different people. One of those people, being him, who was better and the other version, worse. Taking your hand in his, he looked into your eyes and politely explained,

"That's exactly why mon chérie."

Almost on instinct Academy Five jumped up from his seat. His hands slamming onto the table as he leaned towards Commission Five's face. With a look of disgust plastered on his face, Five exclaimed,

"Don't you dare call her that!"

Turning his attention towards his counterpart Commission Five pulled his hand away from yours as he slowly rose from his seat. Placing his hands down on the table the two Fives mirrored each other as Commission Five angrily questioned,

"Oh? Why not?"

"Because that's my girlfriend, you geriatric cunt. Back off." Academy Five commanded

"How about you make me, you pubescent prick." Commission Five taunted back

"Both of you, sit down!" You demanded

As you spoke, you used your powers and quickly whipped the two of them down into their seats. Thank god everyone was too drunk to notice though because there would be a lot of explaining to do otherwise. You held the two of them firm in their seats as they both wriggled around for a bit trying to stand back up. When you could tell that the two of them had finally relented you let them go. As you looked at the both of them sternly, Commission Five looked back at you with awe. He had read about all the training you did in your journal but it was impressive to see it in action. Awestruck, Commission Five commented,

"Your powers have...gotten stronger since I was last with you."

"Yes, they have and if you two don't chill out I'll demonstrate how strong they've gotten by burning this place down with all of you trapped in it." You reply firmly

Luther looked towards you, his eyes wide with concern as he quietly pointed to himself as if to ask "me too?". Looking back at him, you thought about it for a moment before replying,

"Maybe. But definitely, the two of them if they don't calm down."

"Well, I would happily die if it was at your hand." Commission Five mentioned, still in awe of you

"Well, I'd die MORE happily!" Academy Five stated as he leaned in more towards his counterpart

The two of them leaned across the table as they glared at each other once more. Rolling your eyes you pulled them back into their seats with your powers and held them there again. You looked at the both of them as they seethed with rage, not letting up your grip even as they started to sit quietly. Sweat droplets built upon their faces and the air around the table was less than pleasant to smell. As much as you were annoyed, you were also concerned. They looked ill and the amount of anger they were outwardly expressing was unusual for them. You'd expect this amount of anger out of Luther or Diego, not Five. You were starting to feel that their proximity to each other in this one timeline probably was not the best. Maybe if you mentioned it to them you could get to the bottom of things.

"Both of you, shut it and listen. Now I'm not the prick who is," you explain looking at Commission Five before turning to your boyfriend "or was a time-traveling mercenary, but I have done copious amounts of time travel research because I thought I could somehow use my powers to get you back-"

"You tried to get me back?" They ask in unison, surprised at the statement

"Yeah of course I did you, dumbasses. What about the term best friend don't you understand?" You remarked

As both Fives were forced to sit there, they thought about what you said. They were always so focused on getting back to you that it never occurred to them that you might attempt to get them back as well. Like you had said, you two were best friends and with the evident fact that you loved him the same way he loved you, it was stupid not to think that you would do anything to get him back by your side. As they thought more they both started to realize that the evidence was always there in your journal. All the times you had mentioned reading quantum physics books, or writing theorems, or trying to figure out if you could open wormholes with your powers. Sure it was never written as a direct statement but all the clues were there to show you were working to get him back. If you weren't using your powers to forcibly keep them in their seats both of them would've hugged you at that moment. As you held them there you continued saying,

"But that's not the point. My point is that if I had to make an educated guess, I don't think it's good that you two are in such close proximity to each other."

Your boyfriend's eyes went wide with surprise and in an impressed tone he responded,

"Wow, I didn't even explain what paradox psychosis was to you and you already know it's bad."

"I'm sorry- paradox what?" You questioned

Confused, you looked between the two Fives for some type of explanation because the dumb look on Luther's face led you to believe he wasn't quite sure of what to do in this situation. You watch as your boyfriend opens his mouth to speak but before he can get any words out Commission Five jumps in and states,

"Paradox psychosis. I can't believe he wouldn't explain something so important to you mon chérie."

"Stop calling her that." Academy Five complained

Ignoring his complaint though, Commission Five kept his eyes on you as he continued with his explanation.

"Paradox psychosis is a series of seven symptoms that occur if you are too close to yourself in the same timeline. They include denial, itching, extreme thirst and urination, excessive gas, acute paranoia, uncontrolled perspiration, and, ultimately, homicidal rage."

Slowly, you nodded your head as you took in what paradox psychosis was. You silently watched them, your eyes darting back and forth between the two as you noticed the symptoms already occurring. The sweat on their faces, the scent in the air, not to mention the way both of them were itching the backs of their neck at the moment. Hell, you could've been mistaking paranoia for jealousy. Trying to confirm the situation at hand you commented,

"So what you're telling me is that you two are already suffering from this."

"I am not." Commission Five retorted

"Neither am I." Academy Five added

Denial. Great...

"Suuuure...it's totally unlikely that you two are on a collision course to try and kill each other," you remarked sarcastically

"From the looks of it, they'd probably kill each other even without the psychosis." Luther mumbles

Unfortunately, Luther mumbled his comment too loud. Upon hearing his remark the Fives pointed at each other as they simultaneously exclaimed,

"I'm not suffering from psychosis! He is!"

Worried by the new information on paradox psychosis and stressed due to the constant dissonance between the Fives you knew you could not continue going on with this in your current state. Standing up from the table you exclaim,

"Ugh! if you two are going to keep lying to yourselves then I need a drink."

Rummaging through your jacket pocket you try to look for some cash to buy a drink, but remember that you had changed out of your bloody clothes back at the commission. Realizing that you were out of money, you commented,

"Shit. I don't have any cash on me."

As you looked around for maybe some spare change on the floor to purchase a cheap beer with Commission Five pulled a bill out of his jacket pocket and extended it out towards you.

"Here's a twenty, get whatever you'd like." He said with a kind smile

"You realize this is a lot of money for this time period right?" You mention

"I know." Commission Five replied

"Alright..." You replied resigned

Taking the massive amount of money you head over to the bartender to get something to drink. The two Fives watch as you walk away but when you're finally out of earshot Commission Five turns back to the table with a smug look.

"Hm. Imagine not having money to give your own girlfriend." He commented sarcastically

"Fuck you and your blood money. I get steadiness from her and you don't." Academy Five retorted

"Steadiness? What the hell does that mean?" Commission Five questioned

"Oh, you wish you knew!" Academy Five exclaimed back

Luther looked around and saw that people were starting to stare. It was surprising they hadn't earlier but this was getting more awkward by the minute. Placing a hand on his shoulder, Luther tries to grab the attention of the younger-looking version of his brother. Leaning in towards him Luther stated in a hushed tone,

"Five, calm down you're making a scene."

"Luther. Can I talk to you in private?" Five demands

Before Luther could reply, Five grabbed him by his jacket, pulling him over towards the entrance of the bar where they stood before confronting his other self. Turning around the bar with a drink in hand you watched as your smaller, angry boyfriend pulled along his gigantic, dumb brother. You had no clue what was going on but with a shake of your head, you headed back to the table. As you sat back down in your seat you saw Commission Five looking off at the young version of himself. Trying to get his attention you called,

"Five?"

Quickly his attention turned towards you. It was nice sitting here with you without that loudmouth constantly complaining across the table. It just felt natural to sit with you even after all the years he was gone. Placing your drink on the table you slid the rest of the money over to him. With a smile, you said,

"Thank you for the drink, Five."

For the first time in a while, a genuine smile came to Five's face. After all the suffering he went through it started to feel worth it just to see you happy.

"No problem. You know I'd do anything for you." He replied

"I know you would. Which is why it doesn't make sense to me that you don't want to help get us back to the right time." You state gently

Even if they wouldn't acknowledge it, you knew both Fives were under the influence of their paradox psychosis, but the Five you knew was still in there somewhere. You had to figure out what was holding this version back from giving you the help you needed to get out of here. You looked towards him, waiting for an answer and Five looked back. Seeing the pleading look in your eyes, Commission Five knew that he had to say something. There was no way he couldn't. He didn't want to let you down. Lowering his voice, Commission Five leaned in as he explained,

"(Y/N), it's complicated. He wants me to jump to 2019 so he doesn't disappear and just let him have the briefcase. That's not a good plan for anyone, let alone you."

"Five, this plan is all we have. Even when factoring out the psychosis-" You start to comment

"Which I don't have," Commission Five interjects

"Which you apparently don't have," You continue "You're still being a little ridiculous."

"No, I'm not." He retorted

"You are! This plan probably benefits you more than anyone else. You get to go to 2019 just like you wanted, stop Vanya from blowing up the moon and be the hero who saved the earth from the apocalypse. On top of that, you also get to see a version of me that hasn't seen you since the day you left." You tried explaining to him "You get everything you wanted, so I don't understand the hesitation."

"I told you. I can't trust him." Five reiterates

"But why?" you pleaded "This is all we have."

"(Y/N), look at him. He's arrogant and thinks he knows best when he obviously doesn't. All he does is leave a path of death behind him with a path of destruction in front. He's just a pile of mistakes that only keeps growing."

Five paused his explanation and looked towards his teenaged counterpart. As he did so, you could see a glimpse of something in his eyes. Letting out a breath he continued,

"And he abandoned you in time. I don't get why you'd still want to be around him..."

You took a look towards your boyfriend as you processed Commission Five's words. There was something about them that felt off. Quietly, you sat for a moment as you tried to figure out what it was. And then it hit you. He wasn't talking about the Five across the room, he was talking about himself. He viewed himself that way. He couldn't trust your Five because he couldn't trust himself. Slowly, you turned back towards the older-looking Five, your expression saddened by your realization. Placing one of your hands on top of his, Five's attention turns back to you. With a sympathetic smile, you gently answer his question.

"Because I love him." You reply softly

"How? After all that he's done, how can you still say you love him?" Five questioned, his voice barely a whisper

"Because Five is more than his mistakes." You emphasized gripping his hand just a bit tighter when saying his name

Commission Five didn't know how to feel. The remorse that he had carried with him still lingered but there was also a hope that was building. Maybe there was a chance that you could love him despite everything he had done in his life. But even if he agreed to this plan that you were going along with there was one concern that he still had,

"I just don't want you to get thrown through time and have something go wrong again."

"Five I've lost my home, my friends, and my family twice. When I leave this timeline it will be the third time I've left a home, friends, and family behind. If we can get back to 2019 I can at least get my second home back. Won't you help me? Please?" You explained sadly

Five saw the sad look on your face and the pain that you tried to hide behind your eyes. You always tried to make the best of your situation, he knew so from your journal entries, but that didn't mean you were fine. With that look on your face practically begging for his assistance he couldn't say no to you but the concern was too great to say yes either. Giving a slight nod of his head he stated,

"I'll think about it."

You let out a sigh as you took your hand back from his to take another sip of your drink. The two of you sat in silence for a moment and all you could hope was that when it came time, he would change his mind. Across the bar, Luther stood with Academy Five. He looked at this manic version of him as he suffered from the staged of paradox psychosis. Trying to ease the situation Luther commented,

"Five. You need to calm down. I meant it when I say that you were making a scene. People are still staring now."

Five didn't hear a word his brother had just said though. The only sounds were that of the violent thoughts he had in his head and the angry beating of his heart. There was only one solution to make all of his anger go away. Worse-Five had to go. Looking up towards Luther, Five responded,

"Luther I want you to kill him."

"What?" Luther questioned confused

"All you have to do is use your big monkey man hands to crush his skull." Five explains

"Yeah, that's not what's going to happen here." Luther retorts

"You're right," Five states

"Thank you!" Luther replies

"We should take him out back so no one can see." Five adds as he looks for the best way to get Commission Five out of the building

"Five, I'm not going to kill him at all." Luther clarifies

"What? Why not?" Five questions angry and confused

"Because if I kill him, he doesn't jump to 2019 and then you disappear," Luther explains

Five stops for a moment to take in Luther's statement. It was true that he would disappear but he still really wanted that other version out of his sights and away from you. Taking on a more neutral tone, Five stubbornly replies,

"Perhaps."

"And then I have to deal with your angry girlfriend because I caused you to not exist. And if (Y/N) is upset then Diego is going to get upset and they will kill me. Not ATTEMPT, they will." Luther continues

"That is a strong possibility" Five remarks

"And then the rest of our siblings find out, and if I somehow make it out alive, they will also get mad that I technically killed you. So no, I will not be killing him." Luther finishes

Five paused as he considered what Luther had said. Although he was still very much against it, Luther was right. They still needed his other self so he would have to live...for now.

"Fine." Five huffed "I just don't like the way he's acting around my girlfriend."

Besides trying to keep Five from causing a scene there was something on Luther's mind that he wanted to talk about with him. Taking a deep breath, he looked off to the side as he mumbled,

"Yeah...speaking of that."

"You think he's awful too?" Five questioned, curious as to what his brother had to say

"Well-" Luther tried to speak

"Who am I kidding, of course you do! You can see how stubborn and stuck up he is." Five interjected

"Actually I wanted to bring up something about the way you're acting," Luther replied

This was about the paradox psychosis again wasn't it? Five knew for a fact that he wasn't suffering from it. This was all just some type of side effect related to how upset the other Five was making him. Pseudo-symptoms due to his anger and frustration really. Before Luther could go on any spiel about the psychosis that he wasn't experiencing Five stated firmly,

"I'm don't have paradox psychosis."

Luther knew that denial was one of the stages of psychosis and Five was most definitely experiencing it but for now, he would put that aside to try and get to his point.

"This isn't about psychosis. this is about (Y/N),"

"Is it because I didn't have money to get her a drink? I didn't feel right stealing money from Elliott's place but now I'm thinking I should've-" Five started to explain

"Five, no. that's not it." Luther cut off

"Then what is it?" Five asked

It was at this moment that Luther realized how under-prepared he was for this. He didn't expect to get this far and now he wasn't quite sure what to do. The emotionally constipated man was attempting to have a heart-to-heart with his young-ish brother about a topic that he didn't even know if he had the words for. As a leader though, it felt important to him to guide Five in the right direction, so he tried to piece the words together as he explained,

"Okay, well. Y'know. I've just noticed that uh- so you've been using this word steadiness a lot and I- uh- well...I feel like it might mean something else and...I just feel like we should maybe discuss-"

"Luther stop." Five commanded

Even with all the anger and stress that was occupying his mind at the moment, Five wasn't an idiot. He could see his brother flailing as he tried to have a conversation he knew nothing about. Trying to stop Luther from making a fool of himself Five explained,

"If you are implying that you feel the need to give me some type of ''talk'' because of my boyish appearance and relationship status I'm going to ask you to refrain."

"What why? I mean, that's uh- not what I was saying...kind of. But why?" Luther questioned confused

"Why?" Five asked almost surprised "Because you are the least qualified person on this planet to talk about this subject. I would rather ask Diego knowing full well it would become a physical altercation than talk to you about this."

"I don't understand," Luther replies

Five didn't know if his brother got dumber during his time in the 60s or if he was always this stupid but it was only showing now. Either way, it was slightly concerning how his walnut brain couldn't even comprehend why he wasn't the man for this job he was attempting. He needed to try and explain his point in the simplest of terms or else Luther was never going to grasp it.

"Luther, you have been in love with your sister your whole life! That already disqualifies you from speaking on any subject related to love or relationships" Five states "But more so your one and only ''experience'' was with a stranger when you were under the influence. So for the sake of everyone, refrain."

"Listen, I just wanted to help my brother." Luther remarks

"You want to help me? Keep whatever you wanted to say to yourself and stick to being a spotter."

Luther opened his mouth as if he was going to say something but shut it quickly after. Was he really that unqualified? As the two of them stood there silently you were also silently sipping on your drink, your conversation with Commission Five only over a few moments ago. As you continued to sip though, you could feel yourself getting a bit warm. Was it the heat or the alcohol? You didn't know, maybe it was a bit of both. Even in November, Dallas heat was still Dallas heat. Taking off your jacket you placed it on the back of your chair before placing your arms on the cool tabletop. As you placed your arms on the table, out of the corner of his eye Commission Five noticed something on your arm. Carefully, he reached his hand out and lightly brushed the red spot on your arm. Even the lightest touch though sent a shot of pain through your arm causing you to pull it back quickly. Your boyfriend, noticing this sudden action from across the room, quickly rushed back over with Luther following close behind.

"What did you do to her?" He demanded angrily

"Nothing!" Commission Five quickly replied, "You think I would hurt her?"

"I don't know. The word of a hitman doesn't seem reliable to me." Academy Five critiques

"But you were a hitman two weeks ago." Luther comments

"Irrelevant." Academy Five retorts

Ignoring the conflict between the two, you looked at the wound on your arm. It wasn't huge but even cauterized it still didn't look good. As your boyfriend kept his eyes trained on Commission Five you added,

"Five, he didn't do this."

This? Five turned his gaze away from himself and towards you. His eyes went wide as he finally noticed your injury. Sitting down in his seat he carefully grabs your hand and brings your arm closer to him. Gently, he ran his fingers over the wound causing you to wince slightly. His anger morphed into concern as he saw your pained reaction. Looking at the injury once more he recognized him exactly what it was. In a worried tone, Five said,

"Darling, this looks like it came from a gunshot."

Hearing those words Commission Five leaned in to get a better look at the injury. It didn't take long for him to agree that it came from a gun but he wouldn't agree out loud with the little twerp about that.

"It just grazed me, I'm fine." You quickly explained, "And anyway I cauterized it."

"So it is a gunshot wound." Commission Five commented

Your eyes went wide. In your haste to try and make everyone less worried by saying you were fine, you instead just admitted to being shot. In front of both Fives. Instead of saying any more you opted for silence and bit your tongue. Through that silence though the wheels started turning in the heads of the Fives. You watched as their eyes started to widen and the mix of concern and anger spread over their faces.

"How did this happen?" Commission Five asked frantically

"Who did this to you?!" Academy Five demanded

You weren't getting out of this, were you? This was not going to go over well. Taking a deep breath, you let it out before starting to explain,

"Well that's a funny story...you see when I went out to look for Charlie, I actually got drugged and kidnapped by Lila."

"You were kidnapped by Lila?!" Five exclaimed

"Yeah, I got taken to the Commission isn't that crazy?" You try to joke nervously

"You were taken to the Commission?" Commission Five questioned alarmed

"I was and I had the displeasure of meeting your boss, The Handler." You stated

"YOU MET THE HANDLER?!" Both Fives shout

You could see the negative look on both of their faces. Nobody wanted to be in the situation you were in now but if they were going to find out then you might as well be honest with the two of them. Letting go of your reservations to not draw their concern you explain,

"I did and she's really cocky, not as smart as she thinks she is, and is totally jealous of the fact that I'm dating you. Like she tried to insinuate that you and she slept together."

Disgust filled the expressions of both Fives. How dare that even be a thought in the handler's mind. Neither Five liked the Commission and even more so did they hate working under her. That woman was insane. Repulsed by even the thought of her statement to you, Commission Five quickly replied,

"What? Absolutely not."

"I would say unbelievable but that sounds just like something she would pull. And per usual she is 100% lying." Academy Five added annoyed

"Yeah, she seemed like a manipulative bitch, but I knew she was bullshitting it. I don't think she likes me very much though. I made her pretty mad and she threatened to kill me." You reply nonchalantly

"She threatened your life?" Commission Five questioned

"(Y/N), I swear if she so much as laid a hand on you-" Your boyfriend threatened

You didn't know what to tell him. Obviously, she had laid a hand on you when she grabbed your face but if you told him so you had no clue how he would react. With your silence, you had said all that Five needed to hear. In a low tone, he stated,

"Her time is running out. I'm going to make sure of it."

There was something about the look in his eyes when he said that, that made you go quiet for a moment. You had seen many different emotions cross it before but this was different. It wasn't quite anger, nor concern. No, it was...intent. This wasn't just a promise of her demise, it was a guarantee.

"Sorry to interrupt but you still haven't explained how you got that," Luther said, breaking the silence

"Oh right! So I escaped and then I blew up someplace called the tube room because it looked important and so they sent security to stop me. And I was surrounded, right? So I committed a massacre and killed all of them. Like I turned that white marble red. Total blood bath. Anyway, one of them wasn't fully dead so they shot at me and it grazed my arm, so I went back and I pulled out his beating heart. And now I'm here, with you guys!"

"I feel like there's a lot more missing from that statement and yet there is already so much to unpack," Luther comments openly

The table goes quiet for a moment. The two Fives look towards you before looking back at each other, and for the first time, you think they might actually be on the same page. Maybe even with their paradox psychosis, your story could bring them together. Your hope for that fades though when Commission Five accuses,

"This is all your fault. How could you let her get hurt?"

"My fault? You haven't broken your contract yet. You're still working for the group that hurt her!" Academy Five remarks

"I'm not the one who let her out of my sight so she could get kidnapped." Commission Five replies

"Well, you could've killed The Handler long before any of this happened." Academy Five retorted

"So could you!" Commission Five exclaims

Bar patrons looked over towards your table once more and with your tolerance level starting to go down again you decided it was time to wrap things up here. Slamming your drink back you place the finished cup upside down on the table before standing up. The two Fives cease their bickering for a moment to look up at you as you start to talk,

"I understand that we have a lot of feelings given the current situation. But this constant fighting in public is getting ridiculous."

"JFK is gonna be at that grassy knoll in an hour and I want to see history happen so I can brag to my friends when I get finally home. Because I will be getting home." You emphasized "Now, someone at this table is gonna make that happen for me. So if any of the idiots at this table have any desire to keep me happy then let's get a move on."

With your speech finished you turned away from the table and walked out the door. There was no need to deal with them much longer as you had more important things to deal with than whose fault it was that you got a boo-boo from a gun. You had been through worse. With you out of sight, the three guys were left at the table alone.

Without saying a word, Luther quickly stood up and walked away from the table as well. He knew better than to do anything to upset you. You had already been mad at him once and after hearing about your massacre at the commission he did not want to see what your full extend of anger was. With Luther gone, the two Fives were the only ones left at the table. Neither said anything but the animosity was still palpable and was only growing. Silently, the two of them got up from their seats and walked over to the door you had exited from not making eye contact with each other. Academy Five could feel his frustration brewing as he looked at the people around him. They were all judging him. If he could fight them all he would but there was no time. Looking around the Fives found you leaning against the wall outside the pub with Luther standing by, an uncomfortable smile on his face. Looking at the duo you questioned,

"You two idiots ready to go?"

Both Fives nodded. Standing up from the wall you made your way over to where they stood.

"Alright, I'm ready to see the president and then go home. Who's leading the way?" You ask

"He will." your boyfriend says shoving past Commission Five "I'll walk with you."

Five takes your hand in his, placing a gentle kiss on the top of it before bringing it back down to his side and holding it tightly. Turning back towards his older-looking self, He gave him a cocky smile as if trying to make him jealous of the two of you. and from the annoyed reaction on Commission Five's face, it was working. To rub salt even more into the wound Academy Five suggested mockingly,

"We better get a move on. Don't want to disappoint the lady now do we?"

Commission Five almost started to vibrate with anger at his words. That's it, this little shit wasn't making it out alive. He was a deformed mutant copy that needed to be eradicated. There was a chance you would be upset but in the end, he would be doing you a favor by removing this asshole from your life. Turning around, Commission Five started to walk away from the group with his two briefcases in hand. Calling behind him, he commanded,

"C'mon Luther."

Luther looked at you and Five before jogging a bit to catch up with the old man. Hands still interlocked the two of you started to follow behind, a bit of distance between you and the pair in front of you. You could feel the accumulation of sweat on your boyfriend's hand as you held it. It was honestly a bit gross how much sweat there was. You couldn't blame him for feeling the symptoms of something out of his control, but you wanted to get this plan over with. As the group walked onwards towards the grassy knoll you couldn't help but feel like you had forgotten something. It couldn't be something too important because then you would remember immediately but it still bothered you enough that you wanted to remember. As the four of you approached a staircase leading to a bridge, you finally recalled what you had forgotten. Your jacket. Remembering that you left it back at the pub you stopped in your tracks. Confused, Five turned to look at you.

"I forgot my jacket at the bar, I'm gonna go back to get it, alright?" You state "Try to stay calm and don't get into anything stupid with yourself while I'm gone."

"Don't worry I am completely sound of mind." Five responded as he frantically scratched himself

"I don't believe that." You reply monotonously and concerned "and I am now going to make this as fast as possible solely because that was your response."

Turning around you started making your way back to the bar as fast as you could. You knew that it was risky to leave the two Fives with each other given how incompetent Luther was about the situation but you hoped that they could at least stay calm for the few minutes you would be gone. Five watched you run away before turning around and following Luther and Commission Five up the step of the bridge. Up ahead Commission Five and Luther walked side by side, their voices low as they spoke on the plan they had formed in the bathroom of the bar.

"All right, just be cool till I finish the job on the grassy knoll. We'll get the time math and I'll ice the squirt." Commission Five explained

"I still don't think it's a good idea. (Y/N) will lose her shit and I'm really not feeling this plan after she admitted to committing a massacre and ripping someone's heart out you know? My self-preservation is kicking in." Luther comments concerned

"Listen, I told (Y/N) I'd think about the plan that the little shit presented. I thought about it, and I believe ours is better. He's too reckless for her." Commission Five elaborated

"Uh, okay...I just wish there was another way, you know?" Luther replies

"There isn't. Look at him." Commission Five suggests

As they continue to walk, the two look over their shoulders at the younger-looking version of Five. Irritable and constantly scratching himself, he yelled from afar.

"What are you looking at? See something funny?"

"Worst case of paradox psychosis I've ever seen." Commission Five commented with a shake of his head

Luther continued to stare at the version of his brother that had returned in 2019. Sure he was acting wild but was it really so bad that he deserved death? And what about you? He knew for sure that this was probably not your desired outcome for this scenario. Noticing the sad look on Luther's face, Commission Five questioned,

"What's wrong?"

"Well, I feel bad for him. And (Y/N)." Luther whispers

"Mind your business! Or I'll give you something to stare at." Academy Five shouts from behind the duo

"He's just a little guy. And she only got him back recently. I mean they've only been together for like a week and a half in total." Luther continues

"Everybody's a little guy to you. You look like King Kong and the Hitler Youth had a baby." Commission Five replies "And listen I understand your concerns but this is the best option. In the long run, everyone will be happier without him. (Y/N) included."

"You wish you could pull off these shorts!" Academy Five yelled

Luther looked back at the version of Five behind him. The more he saw that version going off the rails the more he believed in Commission Five's plan. And although he was becoming more and more convinced that this was the best solution something just felt off to him. Commission Five was Five and Five loved you but killing the version that you're dating? It still didn't feel right no matter how much he agreed with the rest of the plan. Unsure of things, Luther tried to get reassurance from Commission Five by questioning,

"I know I keep asking but are you sure? I really don't feel like this is the best plan for (Y/N)."

"Don't worry I am completely sound of mind. And right now I believe this is the best plan. I'm her best friend, I would know." Commission Five answers "Now Luther, I don't have time for you to tuck and squeeze here. Can I count on you to keep him under control?

"Yeah, I'll do my best, yeah," Luther responds

"All right." Commission Five replies

As they neared the end of the bridge Commission Five started to walk ahead while Luther waited behind for Academy Five. Putting on a nervous smile, he let out an awkward chuckle as he fiddled with the back of his jacket.

"Hey, brother. How you doing?" He asked tensely

Academy Five could see through his brother's facade. He wasn't here to be a spotter anymore, he was just taking the direction of the person who looked like they had the most authority. As they walked together down the stairs on the other side of the bridge Five comments,

"He's gonna kill me, isn't he?"

"What? What, him? He's gonna kill you? Yeah, right. That's ridiculous." Luther answers, his upbeat tone making his lies more evident

"You know, you're a terrible liar, Luther. You're a worse liar than you are a spotter." Five angrily whispered

"Okay, who's fault is that? What good is having a spotter if you won't even listen to him?" Luther remarked back

"So you admit you're conspiring against me?" Academy Five questioned

"Do you admit that you're suffering from paradox psychosis?" Luther retorts

"All I'm suffering from is bracing clarity about you and your murderous intentions." Five states firmly

"Look, it's not like he's gonna kill you kill you. He just wants to kill a, um...version of you." Luther tries to rationalize before walking away

Five couldn't believe that Luther was alright with killing him. He was the brother that came back. He was the one who was trying to keep everyone safe from the apocalypse he lived through. He's the one who has been trying to make sure everyone got home. Sure, Luther had proven himself over and over again to be prone to making poor decisions when confronted with a higher authority but could his pea brain not comprehend any complex thought on the situation? Was it really that difficult for him to expend energy on his critical thinking skills? Trying to catch up to Luther, Five loudly reminds,

"But I am that version of me!"

"Hey, I don't love it, either, but he's actually got a pretty good plan." Luther states

"What? The one where you guys off me and then jump to 2019 to save the world?" Five remarks sarcastically

"Yeah, wait, how did you know that?" Luther questioned confused

"Because I'm him, and that is exactly what I would do if I were trying to kill me!" Five explains

"Okay, all I know is we've got one Five too many, and you're the one acting like a maniac." Luther remarks

"Maniac? Luther, you have seen nothing." Five retorts angrily, jumping at his brother "If you want a maniac, I will show you maniac."

Luther retreated slightly away from the feral teen. Maybe, just maybe, Five was bluffing but the manic look in his eyes coupled with his erratic body movements amongst other things said otherwise. Luther could tell, that Five was not doing well. As Five walked away from him Luther followed quickly behind. Luther was done trying to rationalize with the teen. As he caught up to him Luther reprimanded,

"Okay, as your spotter, I think the best thing I can do for you right now is put you out of your misery."

Five scoffed in response. Luther was unbelievable. Turning around to face the giant man, Five grabbed him by the shoulders so the two of them faced each other.

"Okay, Luther, listen." Five starts to explain "I know your feeble mind only responds to age and authority, so listen very closely. Yet again, you are experiencing daddy issues, this time with your own brother, which honestly is making me a bit crazy. But remember this: I'm 14 days older than him. I have seniority here. So it is me you should be listening to, Luther."

Five pauses to look at Luther. He felt like he was going insane due to his brother's deep-rooted daddy issues. Feeling like he was going to burst Five exclaimed loudly,

"I'M THE DADDY HERE!"

Luther noticed as the people walking by stared at him as if he was the parent to an misbehaved child. With a forced laugh, he tried to ease the awkwardness of the situation. Looking around as the people passed he put on a smile and said,

"How's it going?"

With the bypassers starting to look away, Luther bent down and took Five by the shoulders. Forcing him to walk forward he quietly criticized,

"Five, please, you're being unseemly. Look at you."

"I admit there is a possibility that I may not be in my fully...right mind right now." Five admits

"Okay, good," Luther replies

"But whatever I've got, he's got it too." Five commented pointing towards the other one

"You two quit grab-assing. We're here." Commission Five called from in front of them

Slowly the two of them followed behind into some type of fenced-off parking lot. Standing from afar they watched as Commission Five placed down the two briefcases he was carrying. As he bends over the sound of gas being passed came from the direction he stood. Luther stood there shocked as he recalled,

"Flatulence. Stage four."

A smirk appeared on Academy Five's face. All this time Luther refused to believe that Commission Five was also suffering from paradox psychosis. He was the older and more rational one to Luther but now he was fully exposed as suffering from psychosis. The daddy issues really ran deep in him, didn't they? Clasping his hands together, Academy Five leaned forward towards Luther. With the cocky smirk still on his face, Five sarcastically questioned,

"See? What's your plan now, bucko?"

Luther did not have a plan anymore. Both Fives were suffering from psychosis and neither could be trusted to make rational decisions. Looking back at the smaller of the two confused, Luther once again hears flatulence this time coming from the Five in front of him. Looking back towards Luther, Five quickly denies,

"That was just lunch, all right? Shut up."

Five walked away from Luther, trying to prevent any oncoming psychosis accusations from him. Taking a look around the area he tried to spot you, hoping you were somewhere close by, but it was to no avail. Glancing over towards his Commission self, he thought about the plan that he and Luther came up with. Was that man truly so jealous that he felt murder was the only option? Or was it because he felt that Academy Five wasn't good enough for you? Either reason was plausible and both infuriated Academy Five beyond belief. He was not going to have you lose him ever again. That briefcase was his and you all were going to go home, ALIVE. Once again by his brother's side, he saw the briefcase in the distance unattended as Commission Five started to put his gun together. His blood boiled and his head started to twitch unnaturally as he stared at the item.

"Look. The briefcase." He whispered

"No, don't. You won't be able to get there in time." Luther remarked, his voice low

His eyes started to blink rapidly as his breathing became shaky. He needed to get that briefcase and he needed to do it now.

"Of course I will. This is our only chance." Five explained

"Hey, uh, just remind me what was the final stage of paradox psychosis again?" Luther questioned

"Homicidal rage." Five stated flatly

"Right." Luther said upbeat before realizing the answer and taking on a concerned tone "That's great."

Five couldn't wait much longer. He had the opportunity to get everyone home and he was going to go for it. Crouching, he slowly started making his way towards the briefcase. As he started to make his way over Luther protested,

"Five, listen to me. I...No. No!"

Instead of listening though Five continued to move towards the case. Using the reflection of the scope on his gun Commission Five, could see his counterpart's every move. Waiting for the time to strike he watched as Academy Five took off in a run before spatial jumping to get to him. Reacting equally, Commission Five spatial jumped back towards where Luther stood. Holding the gun up he aimed it at the teen's head as he remarked,

"Bad idea, shit-heel."

Frustrated by the situation at hand, Luther marched over towards Commission Five and grabbed the gun out of his hands. Directing his attention towards both Fives he scolded,

"Stop it! All right? The both of you. Pull it together. Now, Kennedy is gonna be coming around that corner any minute. Okay? So, everyone, let's just take a deep breath."

Taking a deep breath, Luther looked towards the two Fives waiting for them to follow. Both shakily inhaled and exhaled as they stared the giant man down. With both Fives standing silent Luther continued,

"Now, we're all family here, okay? So can we all just try to get along for a few more minutes?"

The two Fives looked at Luther for a second and if they were ever going to agree on something besides you, it was this. Looking towards his commission version, Five asked,

"You want it?"

"Go ahead." Commission Five responds

"What's that?" Luther questions

Without saying a work Academy Five kicks his leg up nailing Luther right in the crotch. A rush of pain floods through him as he drops to his knees unable to move.

"Shit..." Luther groans

"Now..." Commission Five starts

"Where were we?" Academy Five finishes as he adjusts his jacket

The two Fives start to spatial jump about the place, each trying to beat the life out of the other. Homicidal rage had taken over and there was nothing to stop them at this point. Each Five with their own goals in mind, fought the other trying to gain the upper hand in the situation. As they fought you were on your way back from retrieving your jacket. Getting closer to the staircase where you and your boyfriend had parted you got a bad feeling in your gut. It wasn't just an intuition feeling though, it was a physical feeling. There was a disturbance large enough nearby that you could feel it like a jab in your stomach. Your eyes shot wide as you realized there was only one way that molecules in this area were being disturbed so much you could sense from afar.

"Five." You said to yourself

Picking up your speed you started running up the stairs and across the bridge following the direction of the disturbance. Running down the flight of stairs on the other side you noticed the multiple flashes of blue light. Following the display of lights, you found yourself in a fenced-off parking lot. From where you stood you watched as the two Fives jumped around the place each trying to cause harm to the other. As they flashed into existence one more you saw as Commission Five nailed a punch directly to your boyfriend's face. Sucking in air through your teeth you comment,

"That's gotta hurt."

The two jumped around the lot a bit more but in a second's time, your boyfriend landed an equivalent punch to Commission Five's face. Throwing him off his rhythm, Academy Five followed his punch with a kick to the chest sending Commission Five back a bit. A grimace rose to your face as you continued to see the battle go down. Luther on the other hand was finally starting to recover from his pain. As the two Five flashed on either side of him, he stood up a little taller and tried to reason,

"Would you please..."

It was useless though. Neither of them stopped to listen, instead, they both kicked Luther in the gut at the same time before flashing away one more. Filling with rage, Luther yelled at the two,

"Hey! I'm getting really sick of this!"

Realizing the violence was now starting to extend to people besides each other, you started to cautiously make your way from the parking lot entrance towards the corner they were located. The two Fives flashed into existence once more. Breathing heavily, they stared each other down, the homicidal rage still lingering in their eyes.

"Getting tired yet?" Commission Five mocked

"I can do this all day." Academy Five remarked

"Guys, this has to stop." Luther tries to interject

"Eat shit, Ape Man." Both Five retorts

The two Fives run and jump at each other, causing a giant explosion of energy, sending them back onto the ground, and causing you to drop to your knees. The force of the explosion shocked your system and felt as if someone had speared you right through your abdomen. As you looked down at the ground, taking a few deep breaths, Luther had picked up Commission Five's gun. Pointing it between the two Fives as they laid on the ground, he angrily explained,

"Hey! Assholes! I'm done listening to you both. I'm in charge now."

With wide eyes to two quickly rose to their feet. Pointing in the direction of Academy Five, Commission Five commanded,

"Now, Luther! Shoot him!"

"No! Luther, shoot him!" Academy Five replied, pointing back

"Shoot him!" Commission Five emphasized

"No, Luther, shoot him." Academy Five retorted

As the pain started to subside you looked up from your spot on the ground towards the group not too far ahead of you. With the world coming back into focus, and the words that they were saying becoming clearer, your eyes went wide. You watched as Luther moved the gun back and forth to point at each Five, both of which were demanding the other be shot dead. This couldn't happen, there would be a horrible outcome either way and yet you were frozen in place. As Luther stood with the gun ready to shoot Commission Five continued to demand,

"Luther, shoot him!"

Slowly, Luther pointed the gun towards Academy Five. Looking back at his brother his eyes were wide with shock and fear. He couldn't be shot, this couldn't be how it ended. At the hands of his daddy issues ridden brother, and a manic version of himself whose only authority was he looked his age? No. Five looked between Luther and the Commission version of himself pleading,

"Luther, shoot him."

"Now, Luther!" Commission Five exclaimed

"Luther..." Academy Five begged

You could hear the desperation in your boyfriend's voice as he tried to get his brother to point the gun away from him. The saddened and fearful look on his face gave you the push you needed to snap out of your shock at the situation. You were not losing anyone today, but especially not your best friend. As you started to stand you could quietly hear from afar Luther say,

"I'm sorry, buddy."

"NO!" You shouted

The world around you started to feel like it was going in slow motion as you ran towards the group before transporting your molecules from behind Luther to in front of them. Raising your hand as you reappeared you forced the barrel of the gun up towards the sky. The force of the movement caused Luther's finger to slip and accidentally hit the trigger sending a shot up high and causing you to fall back onto the ground due to the recoil. Hitting the ground, you could hear the echoes of the gunshot as the world returned to normal speed. Realizing what had just occurred both Fives' eyes went wide with panic. Quickly rushing towards you, they called out,

"(Y/N)!"

Hearing your name, you sat up from the ground and look between the two Fives kneeling at your sides. The sound of the gun sent a panic through both of them as they looked you over for injuries. The last thing either of them wanted was for you to be hurt. As you looked between the two you could see the fear in their eyes. The last thing they wanted was for you to get hurt again

"Are you okay?" Commission Five asked, panic evident in his tone

"Are you in pain?" Academy Five questioned concerned

"Guys, I'm fine." You responded

All you had done was fall down and you had probably taken worse falls before so you were sure you would be fine. The two Fives looked over you once more before turning their attention to each other.

"This wouldn't have happened if you didn't bring that gun!" Academy Five yelled

"No! This wouldn't have happened if you didn't jump back in time!" Commission Five shouts back

"I saved her from dying in the apocalypse." Academy Five exclaimed

"Yeah well you didn't save the world she lived in, now did you?!" Commission Five remarked

"AHHHH!" Academy Five screamed as decked Commission Five in the face

Jumping over your legs, he tacked Commission Five to the ground. Standing up, you brushed the dirt off of your pants and witnessed as the two Fives rolled around on the ground shouting and fighting with each other. As you stood there watching them fight each other you realized they weren't going to listen to you if you were even relatively okay. And even if you tried stopping their fighting forcefully, and explaining what you wanted to happen, they still were so enraged with each other that they weren't even thinking about anything other than killing each other. The only time that it seemed like the real Five cut through their psychosis was when they were concerned about your wellbeing. And then it clicked. If you wanted them to truly listen to you, you couldn't be working towards the end goal you desired, they had to work towards what would make you happy. Or at least they had to believe they were doing so. You had to go to the extreme opposite of what they wanted. You needed to be sad.

Acting wasn't quite your specialty but you had helped Addison rehearse lines enough times that you had an adequate grasp on how the look and sound of different emotions were. Taking some short heavy breaths you started to mimic the sound of sniffling as you used your powers to collect water molecules from the air forming fake tears in your eyes. Taking a deep breath you hoped that this would be convincing enough for the two Fives. Letting the breath go you started to sob aggressively. Immediately, both Fives stopped fighting and sprung to their feet, quickly making their way back to you. Taking your face in his hands, your boyfriend asks,

"Mon chérie, what's wrong?"

"Did I do something wrong?" You cried

"What do you mean?" Your boyfriend questioned

"You could never do anything wrong!" Commission Five tried to comfort

Turning your attention specifically to Commission Five you lean more into your "sadness". Letting out a loud wail you collect more water by your eyes to make it seem like you're crying harder. Looking up at him with your face drenched in tears you exclaim,

"N-no I had to do something wrong! I had to do something for you not to like me anymore!"

"Not like you? You're my best friend." Commission Five tries to explain

"Then w-why won't you h-help me get home?" You stuttered "I don't belong here and if w-w-we stay we're all going to d-die in a nuclear apocalypse!"

"I- uh- I-" Commission Five

"I DON'T WANT TO DIE!" You wail

Worried that the lack of genuine sadness might begin to show, you threw your face into your hands and let out exaggerated sobs. Luther and Academy Five looked between your small sobbing figure and the old version of Five who looked like he was at a loss for words. Commission Five couldn't let you die, his whole purpose for surviving through the apocalypse was to make sure that you didn't die, and he wasn't going to go back on that now. Placing his hands on your shoulders he calmly says,

"You're not going to die. I'm going to make sure you get home."

Lifting your head from your hands you wipe your eyes as you start to sniffle more quietly.

"You will?" You ask softly "You'll give us the briefcase and go to 2019 so I can get home?"

"I will." Commission Five affirmed

You nodded your head at him before turning around and looking towards your boyfriend.

"Five! Open the portal!" You commanded

Five blinked a few times as his brain tried to get up to speed but once he knew what was going on he responded,

"Right."

Within seconds blue energy started to whir as he opened a portal through time back to the day of the funeral in 2019. Feeling the emerging disturbance grow as the portal became larger and larger you did what Charlie had instructed you to do all those years ago. Instead of fighting the energy that coursed through you embraced it having it flow in and out through you like a cycle.

"Into the vortex you go, asshole." Academy Five shouted from afar

Commission Five didn't respond and instead looked at you. Giving a nod of your head you extended a hand out towards him. With the briefcase in one hand, he took yours in his other as you walked him towards the vortex. Commission Five took a step in front of you as he stared into his literal future. He would be reunited with his siblings. He had the information on what causes the apocalypse and could easily stop it. And...he was going to see you again. But a you that hadn't seen him since he left. One that he didn't know if they would love them. Commission Five's heart started to race as he panicked about the different possibilities of what could happen when he arrived in 2019. Turning around to face you, you noticed a worried expression on his face.

"I can't do it. What if something's changed." He stated

"What do you mean?" You asked confused

"What if something's changed and this (Y/N) doesn't love me?" Commission Five asked concerned

"Impossible." You replied

"Is it? Maybe Tiger Beat over there just got lucky." Commission Five suggested, anxiety lacing his voice

"In all honestly, with everything he did he should've failed. Any other person would have failed, but I love him so much that it didn't matter." You explain "And the same will go for you."

"But what do I do?"

"Be honest, be her best friend, and love her as you always have." You respond softly "And when the time is right, you feel the pieces fall into place."

Five looked towards you and gave you a smile which you returned. Your words comforted him and maybe things wouldn't be so bad. Looking around at the group Commission Five commented,

"All right...I guess this is it."

"This is it. Go." Academy Five demanded

You looked at Commission Five and rolled your eyes, eliciting a small laugh from him. Turning your head to face your boyfriend, you replied,

"Be nice. You were in his place two weeks ago. Can't you at least give him some advice?"

"She'll show up when you feel like the conversation with your siblings is over." Academy Five said with an annoyed sigh

As he finished his statement, a fire extinguisher flew out from the portal, passing you and Commission Five, and instead hit Luther in the head knocking him to the ground. The rest of you stared on in shock at what had just happened. As Academy Five, focused more on his brother though, the portal started to shrink. Looking up from the ground Luther could see what was happening with the portal and shouted,

"Five! It's shrinking!"

"You need to go, NOW." Academy Five yelled

Seeing the situation going on Commission Five wrapped you in a tight hug as he attempted a goodbye. The goodbye that he never got the last time he left you.

"Thank you, (Y/N)." he whispered "You're my best friend and I don't know how I could go on without you."

The two of you pulled back from the hug. Giving him one more smile, you gestured to the vortex as you replied,

"Don't give these words to me. Give them to her."

Seeing the portal continue to shrink and Commission Five standing still in the 1960s, Luther started to panic. Quickly getting off the ground he rushed over to where the two of you stood and kicked a leg up to push him into the portal before it closed. You watched as he fell back into the portal of blue. His arm started to reach out, trying to hand you the briefcase as he yelled,

"Wait!"

It was too late though. Luther had pushed him through the portal and it closed. All that was left was half of a now-defunct briefcase. You looked towards the only Five left, your Five, and saw the shocked look on his face. With his eyes wide and his jaw dropped you could only imagine that his reaction mirrored that of your own. From behind you, Luther cheered,

"We did it!"

"The briefcase, you idiot." Five mumbled as he walked past him

"What?" Luther questioned before looking at the ground and seeing the wrecked case

Five angrily paced around. What were you all going to do now? That was the hail mary. That was the last-ditch effort. You all were stuck here due to Luther's incompetence. Five shot Luther a nasty glare to which he responded,

"Hey, you know what? A thank-you for preserving your existence would be nice."

"A thank-you." Five scoffed

While the two brothers argued, you were still frozen in place. You hadn't moved from where you were when the portal had closed. Just seconds ago you were going to go home and now...you had nothing. As you stared at the charred briefcase on the ground you whispered to yourself,

"He was just about to leave on his own..."

From the background, the sound of the radio breaks through as the announcer details the arrival of President Kennedy. Realizing he'd be here any minute Five rushes over to the fence where Kennedy would be passing by, calling you and Luther in the process.

"(Y/N)! Luther! Here he comes!" He shouts

Luther and you rush towards the fence and stand on either side of Five. Being too short to see over the top you opted to become invisible and stand on the other side of it. You crossed your arms and leaned against the fence as you looked around at the crowds of people. All of them standing and waiting to catch a glimpse of the president on this historic day. When you first came to the 60s you wondered if you were going to get to see the assassination of JFK, you honestly did not want nor expect to be in this time that long but now here you were. As Luther looked over the fence he could spot Sir Hargreeves in the distance standing on the grassy knoll. Tapping Five to get his attention he pointed out,

"Look, there's Dad. What do we do?"

Five wasn't paying attention to his dad though. From across the street, a figure could be seen sprinting towards the grassy knoll.

"Oh, shit." Five commented

"Diego." You replied

The three of you watched as Diego ran across the street and towards what looked like Sir. Hargreeves. Approaching the figure, Diego tackled him to the ground. He had done it, he stopped his dad and saved Kennedy! And then, the hat of the man fell off, and looking back at him was a man who was not his father. His eyes went wide with shock as the man who now laid tackled to the ground laughed in Diego's face. From behind him, multiple gunshots could be heard as the crowd yelled in fear. Leaning down to the man on the ground he grabbed him buy his jacket and demanded,

"Where is he!"

Pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket he held it out towards Diego, who snatched it from the man's hand. Opening it up all the letter read was

Told you so...

A tear ran down Diego's face as he realized he had failed. As people ran off in all directions trying to escape Dealey Plaza, you all stood in place, disbelief and shock on your faces. You knew that history was going to happen. Hearing about it was one thing but seeing it so close, was another. After the shock wore off you realized that you all needed to get out of here, it didn't look right for people to still be standing around after the president was just shot. Walking back through the fence, you made yourself visible again as you emphasized,

"We need to get Diego and get out of here."

"How are we going to do this?" Luther asked

"You two stay here and figure out a place to go to lay low. I'll get Diego." You responded

Turning invisible once more you went through the fence again and rushed over to Diego. You saw as he stood frozen in place unable to move due to his failure to save the president. Grabbing his hand you said urgently,

"Diego we need to go."

Diego shook his head a little coming out of his trance and looked around for the voice who had called to him. If only he could see you roll your eyes at his stupidity.

"Diego, it's me. We need to go." You repeated as you started to drag him along behind you

Running towards the fence you found the spot where it had stopped and rounded the corner to meet back up with Luther and Five. Becoming visible on more you asked them,

"What's the plan?"

"We're going to head back to Elliott's. It's the only place we really have at the moment." Five explained

"Let's go then." Diego replied

The four of you took off running down the back streets of Dallas towards Elliott's place, trying your best not to be spotted by anyone. As you made it to the alley you all arrived in when you first came to the 60s, you rushed in through the back door of Elliott's place shutting it quickly behind you. Entering the building you saw Vanya, Klaus and Allison sitting around the living room. A solemn silence loomed in the air as you all stood there, the world falling apart even if the nuclear apocalypse had been avoided. There was something missing though. You watched as Klaus gave the group a far off look before getting up from his spot on he couch. The group watched as he walked without purpose towards the back bedroom. And that's when it hit you. Ben wasn't here. Following Klaus down the hall you quietly called out,

"Klaus, where's Ben?"

Slowly he turned to look at you, a far off look in his eyes. Oh, (Y/N). Sweet, sweet (Y/N). Still caring about this family of fuck-ups even after everything that had happened. It was in Klaus' instinct to lie. Lying caused him a lot less trouble most of the time but with the concerned look on your face, he couldn't lie to you. Even after all these years he still remembered the kindness you gave him as a child. He remembered the birthday gifts you gave him when you were all thirteen and times were simpler. He remembered the times where you would secretly join him in the mausoleum and hold him to protect him from the ghosts. He remembered you, his friend, his family. After all that you had done for him, it would be doing you a disservice to lie.

"Someone had to stop Vanya from blowing up the FBI building..." Klaus responded quietly

Your concerned expression morphed into one of sadness. He was gone and this time he wasn't coming back. Looking back towards Klaus you said,

"But we didn't get to say goodbye..."

"It must be a family curse. None of us ever get a proper goodbye." Klaus responded sadly "People just disappear..."

You looked down towards the floor, not at anything in particular but you knew if you looked Klaus in the eyes that you wouldn't be able to hold yourself together much. The pain of losing a friend again weighted heavy on you. Seeing your saddened reaction Klaus tried his best to make things easier for you. Attempting to put on a cheerier tone he mentioned,

"If it makes you feel any better, he always loved you most. He'd still talk about you even years after his death."

A slight smile briefly came to your face. You were happy that you had left such an impact but...you never got to talk to him about that. Instead of trying to find the words to speak you instead took a step forward and threw your arms around Klaus. Wrapping his arms back around you, the two of you stood in a silent embrace each of you quietly reassuring each other that things would be okay, even when they weren't. Stepping back from the hug, Klaus placed his hands on your shoulders as he said,

"I just need a minute."

You gave him a small nod and turned to walk away. As you made your way back towards the kitchen and living room you noticed that no one was there. Looking over the balcony you saw that the rest of the group was downstairs and headed down. When you got there you stood on the bottom step in between where Five and Diego were, your attention now focused on the TV broadcast the group was watching.

"Authorities are asking for help identifying several persons of interest at Dealey Plaza at the time of the assassination. The FBI believes they may have been acting in concert with the alleged shooter, Lee Harvey Oswald. Vanya Hargreeves, wanted in connection with the deaths of several FBI agents inside the federal building at Dealey Plaza. A Cuban exile known only as Diego..." The TV announcer started

"Cuban?" You and Diego questioned at the same time

"Who recently escaped from the Holbrook Sanitarium. A bare-knuckle boxer with suspected Mafia ties who fights under the alias ''King Kong''. Allison Chestnut, a Negro radical responsible for instigating and organizing the recent riots at Stadtler's lunch counter. And finally, Klaus, the controversial cult leader and known tax evader. The FBI is asking the public to be on the lookout for this unidentified boy, who they believe is being held hostage by the suspected terrorist network." The announcer finished

"Well, it's true. I do feel like I'm being held hostage most days." Five remarked sarcastically

"God, I hate that photo." Diego commented

"They're saying I instigated the riot?" Allison scoffed "That's unbelievable."

"Look, the good news is that we restored the timeline and we stopped doomsday." Luther states

"Yeah, a bunch of real goddamn heroes. We let Kennedy die." Diego retorts

"Yeah, and now we're officially the most wanted people in the world. The FBI is after us, the Dallas police, the Secret Service. It's only a matter of time before they hunt us down here." Allison interjects

"Well, where are we supposed to go?" Vanya questions

"I have this yurt just outside Reykjavik. We could totally lay low there. Folks there are a little weird, but lovely." Klaus suggests as he comes down the stairs

Passing by you he walks to stand near Vanya. It was still weird not seeing Ben standing by him or at least somewhere in the place.

"Hey, numbnuts. Hiding's not gonna make a difference here. The Commission will hunt us down wherever and whenever we go." Five reminds

"He's right. They'll never stop." Diego agrees

Five looked over towards Diego and narrowed his eyes. What was he talking about?

"I'm sorry, since when are you an expert on the Commission?" Five inquired

"Since I got back from there." Diego stated

"What?" Five asked confused

"Yeah, they headhunted me, offered me a job. Full time with benefits, which I had to turn down."

"Uh, as my brother I would hope you'd turn it down." You interjected "They drugged and kidnapped me."

"They headhunted you," Five chuckles "the village idiot?"

"What, am I not allowed to be headhunted? Only the almighty Five needs to be in demand?" Diego retorted

As Diego and Five started to bicker the rest of the group started to become annoyed at the scene unfolding. Rolling their eyes and taking steps away from the two, you all hoped that they would shut up soon. You especially. The Hargreeves were being tracked by every type of law enforcement in this nation on top of being hunted by a group of time assassins led by a psychotic megalomaniac.

"Diego, you're not Commission material, all right? Got an obstinate nature to ya." Five comments

"Who do you think it was that figured out Vanya was the one that causes doomsday and stopped it?" Diego asked rhetorically

"Hey!" Klaus exclaims from the other staircase

You didn't know if he knew Ben stopped Vanya or not, but even if he didn't know that Ben was the one to actually stop the apocalypse it still was incredibly selfish to take the credit for it. Ignoring the looks that the rest of his siblings were giving him Diego got up in Five's face and continued,

"Me. That's who. I figured it all out on the Infinite Switchboard."

"You were on the Infinite Switchboard?" Five asked

"Hell, yeah. I made that machine my bitch."

Five scoffed and looked away from Diego. There's no way he was able to work the infinite switchboard on his own. You were at the commission and the both of you escaped so most likely you had to be together. Turning to look at you Five asked,

"Babe, did he really make the machine his bitch?"

"I don't know, I was off committing war crimes," You answer before doing a double take an asking "Wait what did you call me?"

Before anyone else spoke Vanya interjected and questioned,

"War crimes?"

"Don't ask." Luther replied

"Y'all need to recognize I got shit going on y'all don't even know about." Diego yelled as he looked around the room

"Oh, sorry. You've got things going on?" Allison remarked sarcastically

"This isn't helpful." Luther adds as he paces about the place

You watched as Vanya quietly left the group and went to go upstairs. As she disappeared out of sight you threw your head into your hands. You didn't want to even witness the siblings start to argue with each other. As they noise of their disagreement about what to do next in this situation grew the voice of th TV anchor cut through the yelling,

"In other news, the adoptive daughter of billionaire Reginald Hargreeves has been reported missing. We now go live to the police station where Police Chief Jesse Curry just giving a statement on the case."

You looked up from your hands and looked towards the TV. Watching the press conference you can see the police chief standing at a podium in front of the station but in the background someone familiar stood there.

"Mom..." you said to yourself

Almost in a trance you walked through the group of bickering Hargreeves towards the TV before crouching down in front of it. You stared at your mom on the screen as she stood in the background of the broadcast. Bringing your hand up to the TV you gently placed it on top of the image of her as the chief started to speak.

"The Dallas police department is working tirelessly to find Miss (Y/N). She was last seen at home in her bedroom before being reported missing by her mother this morning. Detectives have multiple theories that they are working on at the moment. There is a concern that she and her friend Charles Anderson may have also been taken by the terrorist organization the FBI is tracking due to their connection to Sir Hargreeves and high society status. If you see or hear anything please call Dallas Police immediately so that we can bring her home."

As the group bickered on behind you, you stood up from in front of the TV. Turning to go upstairs you passed Vanya as she walked back down. Slowly, you made your way to the kitchen and picked up the phone. You might've been cursed with people leaving before you could say goodbye, but you weren't going to subject anyone else to it. Taking a deep breath you tried to calm yourself as you dialed the number into the phone. The was a ringing for a few moments before a man could be heard on the other line asking,

"Dallas Police non-emergency line. How can I help you?"

"I'd like to speak with Grace, miss (Y/N)'s mom please." You said as steady as you could

"One moment." They replied

You waited silently on the other end before hearing the sound of a familiar voice urgently asking,

"Hello?"

There was a moment when she first spoke where you wanted to hang up, and avoid the pain both of you would feel if you continued the call. Maybe you could pick up and try to move on like you always did and she could hopefully move on from you after some time. It wasn't right though, you called for a reason and it would be wrong to go back on it. Trying to find the words, you started,

"Hi mom."

"Oh my god! (Y/N) where are you! Are you alright?" Your mom said panicked

You could hear the pain in her voice. It was the pain of a mother who's child was put in danger too many times recently. The pain of a mother who just wanted to find them and make sure they would be okay. You could feel her pain strike your heart as you tried to continue,

"I'm fine."

"Where are you? Are you with those terrorists?" She questioned distressed

"I am." you replied, your voice starting to waver

"Oh god. What have they done to you? Are you hurt?" Grace fearfully asked

"No..." You stated as your throat started to tighten "they haven't done anything to me"

"Tell me, what do they want? Money?" Grace pleaded "I know I just left Reginald but I can go back and talk to him. I know that he would pay anything to get you back safely. However much, we'll get it to them."

Tears started to well in your eyes as you tried to get through the conversation. You could hear the heartbreak in her voice and could only imagine the emotional look she probably had on her face. You started to wonder if this goodbye was more for her or more for you. As your chest clenched feeling your own heart start to break you stuttered out,

"I-I-I'm going far away, Mom."

"No, no, no. We'll fine them and stop them. Just tell me where you are," Grace begged

"I can't." you replied before apologizing "Mom...I am so sorry that I brought you into this mess. This is never how I wanted things to go or end."

"Sweetie you're talking like you're not coming back from this." Grace replied confused

"I'm not."

You could hear her sobs on the other side of the line. Closing your eyes tightly, tears started to fall from your eyes and roll down your face. Your breathing became short and choppy as you held back your own cries. Through her tears, Grace yelled,

"No, you will. You will!"

"Mom...I need you to know that I love you so much. You have made my time here so much better than it could've been. I showed up out of the blue and you still took care of me and loved me as your own." You explained to her through a cracked voice "It pains me to lose a parent again but no matter what happens next, you'll always be my mom."

"(Y/N)-" She begged

"I love you Mom." You stated

"I love you too-" She replied

"Goodbye." You stated

You could hear your Mom shout,

"Wait-"

But it was too late. Hanging up the phone you pressed your back against the wall and slowly slumped down to the floor. Pulling your knees close to your chest you used your hand to cover your mouth as you tried to silence your cries. Shutting your eyes, you let the tears stream down as everything you tried to hold back on the phone came came out. There was so much more pain that came with a goodbye. When you never got to say it there was always that hope that one day the person would come back, but that hope was gone once you said it. As you sat on the floor below the phone softly crying, you felt a hand on your shoulder. Opening your eyes you looked at the figure kneeling in front of you,

"Charlie..." you whispered "D-did you hear?"

"I did." He whispered back

"Charlie, I- I can't get her involved with this...With me." You explained through your tears "I don't want her to get hurt."

"I know." He replies calmly

Standing up he extends a hand to help you off the ground which you take. Quietly he guides you over towards the living room. From below you can still hear the bickering of the Hargreeves. You couldn't make out what it was they were yelling about now but it didn't matter. As Charlie sat down in a chair you paced about the place thinking about everything that happened to you. Everything. From the moment you left your home in 2002 as you tried to find out what was wrong with your best friend up until this moment now where you were holed in a dead man's TV store literally counting down the minutes until the FBI broke the door down. Your heart began to race as emotions you had refused to deal with for so long flooded your system. Grief, anger, sadness. You started to feel it all at once. Hot tears rolled from you eyes and you shouted,

"FUCK."

From down below the Hargreeves stopped their bickering. Quieting down they all looked up towards the upstairs. Although they couldn't see anything they could hear the sound of Charlie saying,

"(Y/N), it'll be okay. What do you need?"

What did you need? You needed a lot. You needed to not be in situation where everyone but you and your boyfriend was an assumed terrorist. You needed to get out of this time. You needed a steady place to stay. You were sad and scared and felt like you were right back where you started all those years ago. A wave of anger boiled over as you turned to Charlie and snapped,

"I NEED MY MOM AND DAD CHARLIE."

Finishing you statement, your flash of anger turned back to sorrow as you collapsed to your knees. Your body couldn't hold the weight of your pain any longer and gave out. Loud sobs echoed through the place as you finally let it all out. If only your parents could see you now. Would they be proud? Would they still be happy to call you their own? You looked up towards the ceiling and stated,

"I'm so sorry that I caused this mess we're in."

Maybe if you were lucky the heavens would hear you and deliver the message to your parents wherever they were. The Hargeeves stood in place as they beared witness to the anguish you carried with you for so long. The heavy burden of all your pain was finally coming to light, and none of them enjoyed your sorrow. Wanting to fix the situation, Five and Diego tried to start making their way up the stairs to you but Allison put her hands up to stop them. Looking at her confused Allison replied,

"This is not one for you two to try and fix. Just let Charlie try to help."

Five and Diego both felt helpless. They wanted to be there for you and help you through your emotions. It was ridiculous that Allison was blocking them from doing so. What did she mean this is not one for you to fix? As the two of them tried to push past her, Allison stated,

"Don't make me rumor you into staying down here."

The two boys reluctantly walked back down the stairs to where they stood before but neither was happy about the situation. Back upstairs, Charlie did not quite grasp the intent of your message and instead thought you were talking about the situation you were in now. Trying to comfort he stated,

"(Y/N), this isn't your fault. You have to understand that you are the least culpable person in all of this."

You ignored him as you looked off in the distance. Your sobs started to subside but you were left with a hallow feeling within you. A complete emptiness. In a monotone voice you asked Charlie,

"You know what my parents told me when I was younger?"

"What?" He asked

"They gave me three rules to remember. First, remember you are unconditionally loved. The second, always try your best and do what's right. And the third...stay away from the house across the street." You recalled

"The Academy." Charlie said

"Yes. They wrote it on a piece of paper and hung it on the fridge. I saw that rule every day at every meal. They drilled it into me as if it was the most important piece of information I'd ever know." you elaborated almost breathlessly "And yet I still didn't listen. They were worried if I associated with them I'd get hurt and I guess they were right but it's probably not the hurt they expected."

"So you regret meeting the Hargreeves?"

"No, never. I don't regret meeting any of them. I love them all even if they don't all love me. I just wish...I wish I could've done more for them. Maybe if I was there...to stop their shitty dad...if I had just done more then we wouldn't be here. This wouldn't have happened"

The Hargreeves stood saddened and shocked at your admission. You had never told any of them about the third rule, not even Five. You never told them your parents explicitly stated to stay away from their house. To stay away from them. You came over every time you could to hangout and spend time with them fully knowing you could get in trouble if you were found out. You ignored what your parents told you to do just so you could be with all of them. And now here you were upset that you didn't do more to help them? All you ever did was help them. The short time that they had you in their lives was the best time they could remember.

While the others looked around at each other, Luther looked towards the ground. A feeling of guilt washed over him as he fully realized how awful he had been to you when all you were was a friend to him. Did he really forget all the things that you did for him in his youth? All the fun you had? He was so loyal to his father, so protective of his number one status, that he treated you, the only person to see him as a person so poorly. All that time ago, Diego was right. You were family.

Charlie stood up from his seat and walked over to where you were on the floor. Sitting down next to you, he placed a hand on your back. As he looked into your eyes, he questioned calmly,

"How could you have predicted what would happen?"

"I-I couldn't...I was just a kid...god we were all just kids." you exclaimed as you threw your head into your hands

"Hey, hey it's okay." Charlie tried to comfort

"I just- I should've done more. I should've been there." You try to argue

"If you were there you would've never met your other friends. And wouldn't you regret it if you didn't meet them as well?" Charlie asked

"Yes, but-" you started to reply but were cut off by Charlie

"(Y/N), no matter how painful some of the consequences of your decisions have been it seems like everything in your life has been the right thing for you. This was always out of your hands (Y/N). You don't need to be the savior of the broken, the beaten and the damned. You just need to be you. I mean what more could you have done to prevent where you are now?" He questioned

"I don't know I could've redistributed the molecules at the theatre. I at least could've tried" You replied at a loss for words

"(Y/N), listen to me." Charlie says taking on a more serious tone "That night nearly killed you. If you recall, you came to the 1960s in a coma. And even if you did know how to redistribute like you do now, Vanya is still immensely more powerful. She's blew up the moon after all. Even if you had tried, that much energy is too much for one person."

Your far off gaze came back into focus and you looked over to Charlie.

"You're right..." You replied "It is too much for one person."

"Now, how about we go back to the rest of the group and figure out where to go from here." Charlie suggested

"Okay."

The two of you stood up again and started making your way to the stairs. As the group below saw you approach and start to come down towards them, they knew that they had to start talking about something, because it would be rude to bring up your feelings now. You had just calmed down and had already been through enough. Facing all of them and having to realize that they listened in wasn't in your best interest. Vanya had wanted to say something for a while but didn't do so while you were still upstairs. Realizing that this was her chance she stated,

"I'm leaving."

"What? To go where?" Allison questioned confused

"Sissy's farm. Something's wrong with Harlan, and I need to help him." Vanya explains

"Vanya, we need to stick together, okay? Now more than ever." Luther replies

"That's why I'm telling you this. Whatever's going on with Harlan, I think I might've caused it." Vanya elaborates

"How?" Klaus questions

"He drowned, and, uh, somehow I was able to bring him back to life. And now it's like we're connected." Vanya states

"Wh... What does that even mean?" Allison asks

"I don't know. I can't explain, but...I know that he needs my help and I need your help, too. I'm scared. And for the first time in my life, I don't wanna do it alone. I want my family by my side." Vanya says before looking at you "All of my family."

The group was silent as you all looked at her, each person debating in their head on what to do. Everyone stayed still for a moment until Diego stepped forward and said,

"Look, I'm sorry. We have other priorities right now."

"Diego's right. For once." Five added "We need to make our stand here and now."

The rest of the group stood there, not saying anything. Your jaw dropped as you were speechless at the lack of action the rest of the Hargreeves were taking. With no one joining her Vanya grabbed car keys from her pocket and said,

"Okay. I guess I'll see you when I see you."

You all watch as Vanya walks out of the building. As the door to the alleyway slams you look around at the Hargreeves all standing quietly staring at the door Vanya had just left through. Turning your attention towards the group you ask,

"What is wrong with you guys?"

Turning their attention from the door to you, you continue,

"That is your sister. Your family. And for the first time she reaches out to this group for help and support and you're just going to send her off to be alone so you can what? Stand here and wait for the FBI to put bullets in all of your heads?"

The group is silent for a moment, but it didn't take long before Klaus stood up and said,

"(Y/N) is right. We should be with Vanya."

Grabbing a jacket, he puts it on and without another word walks out the door to go join her. It takes a few moments but slowly the rest of the group nodded their head and made their preparations to go. You watched as Allison walked out the door with Diego trailing close behind.

"I'm only doing this because you want it." Diego comments before exiting the building

"Sure it is," You remark with a smirk

As you make your way down to the bottom step, you can see your boyfriend start to approach you.

"Can I help you?" You ask, your smirk still evident

Five gives you a smile back as he takes your hand in his. Looking into your eyes, he saw all he could ever want and more and as he held your hand he couldn't help but worry about you and what would happen if the group ran away.

"You realize if we leave that we're always going to have to be on the run?" Five asks gently

"Well then we'll have to make the most of it. Won't we?" You reply

"I guess so," He says with a smirk before giving you a peck on the lips "I'll meet you at the car."

Slowly, Five starts to walk away, holding on to your hand until he's too far to touch it anymore. As Five exits the door Luther lingers around a bit. After everything you had said and all the stuff he realized he knew he owed you an apology. Carefully, approaching you he started to say,

"Hey (Y/N), I-"

"(Y/N), can I talk to you for a second?" Charlie cuts off, not hearing Luther

"Yeah, one second." You tell him before turning back to Luther "What did you want to say Luther?"

Luther scratched the back of his neck as he looked off to the side. This probably wasn't a good time to talk anyway.

"Uh...just that I'll see you at the car." Luther mumbled

"Oh, alright." You replied

As Luther walked off you turned your attention to Charlie.

"What's up?"

"I have something for you." Charlie replied

You looked at him curiously. What could he have had for you? Pulling a duffle bag out from behind his back he handed it to you, a smile wide across his face.

"Charlie what is this?" You questioned

"Open it!" he exclaimed

Placing the back on top of the nearby TV, you unzipped it to see what was inside. Your eyes went wide and a smile appeared on your face as you looked in the bag.

"Charlie this is all my stuff." you stated

"All your stuff you brought to the 1960s, your clothes, plus a few extra things that I thought you might want to take with you." He explained

You looked over the bag filled with all of your things, happy to see them all again and know that they were in your possession, but you were confused as to why Charlie presented them to you.

"Thank you Charlie, but why did you bring this to me?" You questioned

The smile on Charlie's face faltered as he looked at you.

"I had a gut feeling this morning that today would be...it. So I packed up all of the stuff that I knew you would want or need and brought it with me when I left the mansion this morning. I didn't want you to not have any of it in case this happened." He explained

"Well I appreciate it. I'd be very sad if I didn't have this stuff with me." you replied

Your smile from seeing your stuff faltered as well. Charlie was right, this would be it. You had no clue if or when you would ever see him again. You could feel your heart clench once more as you realized you had to say goodbye to another person you loved. Turning away so he couldn't see the pain on your face you started to zip up the bag to take it with you to the car. Beofe you could get the bag closed though Charlie exclaimed,

"Oh, one more thing!"

Turning your attention back to him you watched as he pulled something out from his back pocket. Handing the item to you, you saw that it was an envelope addressed to you. Turning it over you started to open it but were stopped when Charlie requested,

"Don't read it now. Read it once you leave in the car."

Place the letter into the bag, you looked back to Charlie and asked,

"So what are you going to do now?"

"I'm going to stay here, find some duct tape and make it look like I was a hostage so when the FBI comes I can say the ''terrorists" took off to Mexico with you and the boy."

You let out a laugh at his plan. Granted, it would probably work to buy you and the rest of the group some time but you still found it a bit silly to duct tape himself. Rolling your eyes you stated,

"Well at least I can always count on you to be my alibi, but what happens after that?"

"I don't know. Maybe I'll start a painting business. Maybe I'll fall in love. We'll just have to see I guess." he answers with a shrug "Anyway, let's get you going."

Rushing towards your friend, you enveloped him in a tight hug which he reciprocated. You took in a deep breath as you tried to savor the moment, not knowing when something like it would ever come again. As Charlie held you he felt what felt like a tiny zap on the back of his head. Pulling back to look at you he questioned,

"Did you just shock me?"

"Maybe I did. Maybe I didn't." You replied

Charlie rolled his eyes at you as you closed up your duffle bag of stuff. Placing the bag on your shoulder the two of you walked outside the building and towards the car. Seeing you in the sideview mirror, Five stepped out and opened the door so you could slide into the front seat between him and Vanya. Getting into the car you place your bag on the floor while Five slid in to the right of you. From outside Charlie closes the door before leaning into the open passenger window. Taking a look at you, he then turns to Five with a smile and comments,

"Keep her safe, will ya Five? She's one of a kind."

"I swear on my life I will." Five replies, wrapping and arm around you

Looking back to you he lets out a small sigh before saying,

"Goodbye (Y/N)."

"Goodbye Charlie." You reply

Standing up from the window, Vanya started to pull out of the alley and on to the road. As the car drove off, you watched as the silhouette of Charlie grew smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror until he was gone. Pulling the letter he gave you out of your bag, you opened the envelope and started to read it.

(Y/N),

I knew this day would come and I’ve had a draft of this letter prepared for a while but I never knew when I’d have to be writing this. After a while I thought I may be lucky and I’d never have to but this day had to come eventually.

I’m not good at saying goodbye because I’ve never really had anyone to say goodbye to. The last person I cared enough about when saying goodbye was my mom. You’re the second person in my life where it brings me pain to let you go.

Before you I didn’t have anyone. I was alone and by chance you fell into my life. Or I guess more so I fell into yours and I’ll be forever thankful for that day.

You’re the only friend I’ve ever had and closest friend I probably will have. I was lost and alone and you helped me find my way. You brought a light to my life I had never had before and showed me what life could be like. I learned how to live because of you.

I’m not sure what I’m going to do without you here all the time. No one else is going to yeet a sleeping bag at me or confuse me with facts about the future. It’s going to be difficult adjusting to life without you but I hope whatever I do next is something that can make you proud.

I wish you could stay here, but I know this isn’t your time. And I wish I could go with you, but I know it’s not what you’d want for me. Just know though that you’re the best friend I could’ve ever asked for and I hope to see you again someday soon.

Sincerely,

Your friend

Charlie

As you finished reading the letter silent tears fell from your face and you realized that whatever came next, there was no turning back from it now.

______________________

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wonunuu · 3 years

Text

iris beauty ❀

40: getting closer

✎ synopsis: falling for a guy is never easy, especially when your best friend of many years basically claimed him; you and mina have been friends for as long as you can remember, but your loyalty and trust are tested when she asks you to pretend to be her in meeting a guy she had been talking to online and you unintentionally start to develop feelings for him.

✎ genre: romance, angst, comedy

✎ pairing: reader x yoon jeonghan

✎ word count: 1.6k+

✎ warnings: suggestive

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add your @ here!

a/n: i gotta question.. do you think pet names between couples is cute? cos like me, no lol i mean like the only one i'd accept is "my love" but idk i just don't know (this has nothing to do with the au lmaoo just a thought in pj's little brain)

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2:41

After your overtime shift at the café, you head back to your apartment to grab your textbooks. Finals were approaching, and there is no doubt that you were stressed. You need to, not only pass in your exams, but also excel in all of them to get at least a 3.8 GPA, and this is the only acceptable grade for you if you wanted to get accepted into a medical school.

So, studying has been your number one priority for the past couple of days. You and Vernon, your study buddy, have been in and out of the campus library to do nothing else but study. And that’s where you’re heading again.

“I’m almost there,” you manage to say, panting, while jogging towards the library where an impatient Vernon was waiting. For what felt like three weeks of jogging, the familiar building finally came in sight. There were countless students, some whose faces you’ve seen before, were making their way in--probably has the same reason as you. With this many students going there to study, you knew there would be competition in getting the tables and booths first, and you mentally scold yourself for arriving late.

“Can you be any slower?” Vernon rolls his eyes teasingly, earning him a light punch on the shoulder from you. The two of you head in and look for available spots. You checked the first floor, but they were all packed. As well as the second, third and fourth floor. Your legs felt like they were about to fall off, tired and numb from climbing an endless amount of stairs. Not to mention, you were also carrying textbooks that’s equivalent to the weight of three elephants stacked together in your bag, and you say that with no exaggeration.

“There’s one,” he points to an empty desk just by the window. As you are walking, from the side of your eye, you see another group of students pointing at it and making their way. You increase your speed, dragging Vernon behind you, so that you could get there first before they could. Fortunately, just before they got there, you slapped your hand on the table.

“Scram, freshmans,” you growled and Vernon crosses his arms, smirks. The group of friends roll their eyes before they walk away, and you smile in victory. Some would say your actions were a little immature, especially that comment you made, but you gotta do what you gotta do to survive. Afterwards, you and Vernon take your seats, and start your hours of studying.

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•

9:28

Opening the door to the apartment, you were surprised to see Jeonghan sitting on your couch, watching the television. You walk behind him and snake your hands around his shoulders, wrapping him in a warm hug, and nuzzle your head between his neck.

“Another long day at the library?” He caresses your hands and you nod in response. “Have you eaten?” he asks. You remove your hands and walk around the couch. You lay down and place your head on his lap. “I can make you something if you want,” he offers.

“Will you?” you look at him, smiling. You’ve never really imagined Jeonghan cooking before. You don’t even know if he knows how to. But you weren’t going to turn down his generous offer to cook for you, whatever the result may be.

Jeonghan stands up and heads to the kitchen, and you watch him from the couch. He opens the cupboards, takes out the pan and places it on the stove. He then opens the fridge, looking for anything he can cook. To your surprise, he takes out a bag with a logo of your favourite restaurant.

You cock your head to the side as your eyebrows meet. “I thought you were going to cook for me. That’s take out.” You stated, pointing at the bag he was holding. “I am going to cook. I’m gonna heat it up. That counts,” Jeonghan looks at you and gives you a smile that displays his teeth. Disbelief is all you feel. You scoff at his reply, and feeling too tired to argue, you lay back down.

Jeonghan has been nothing but supportive these past couple of days. When you and Vernon were at the library, he would drop by to give you two snacks and drinks. Sometimes, like today, he would use the spare keys you gave him to enter your apartment to clean up so you wouldn’t do it when you get home. Embarrassed, you told him to stop cleaning your mess, but he said it wasn’t a big deal and that he didn’t want you to come home to such an unkempt apartment--the unorganized sight causes more stress, he adds.

You were grateful for everything Jeonghan has done, yes. But you can’t help but think of one specific person who used to do the same. Who used to tell you to eat before you go to bed, who reminded you to drink water, who reassured you that you would pass your exams, and who comforted you when things didn’t turn out the way you hoped for. Joshua has never left your mind since he went away. Often, you wondered what he might be doing and where he might be. You’ve had multiple urges to send him a text or ring his phone to check up on him, but you thought he might want some space. You knew he would come back when he’s ready, and you were willing to move on from the past and start anew with him. Gosh, you miss him.

“Mind telling me what’s in that pretty head of yours?” Jeonghan disrupts your thoughts as he walks towards you, holding a plate. He sits down and offers his free hand to help you up. You grab his hand and use your abdominal muscle to sit up.

He hands you the plate and you take it from him, and immediately, the aroma makes your mouth salivate. “Mhmm,” you murmured, “this looks delicious. Thank you, Han.”

Your boyfriend nods and urges you to take a bite. So you did.

“What about you,” you ask after swallowing your first bite.

“I’m okay, babe. Just eat, hmm?” Jeonghan smiles while reaching his hand to your face to tuck your hair behind your ear. You felt bad that you were the only one eating, so you feed him. At first he refused, but quickly cave in when you pouted.

The two of you sat on your couch, taking turns to feed each other. Sometimes, he would follow up a bite with a soft peck or two--he called it a quick served dessert. You rolled your eyes at his corny remark, but you couldn’t hide the rosy tint on your cheeks as the blood rushes through them.

Jeonghan absolutely loved spending these little moments with you. No words can ever explain the feelings he gets when he hears your laughter--your smile alone is enough to make his heart melt as if it was ice cream under a fifty degree celsius summer day. He would not exchange this moment for anything else. There is nothing he wants more than to spend time with the person he loves most.

After your meal, you head to the kitchen and quickly wash the dishes before going back to sit with Jeonghan. You plop yourself beside him and he takes his arm and wraps it around your shoulder. You do the same as you snake both your arms around his waist and rest your head on his chest, where the sound of his heartbeat is clear and audible. You don’t know if you just really love to hear his heart beat because you love him, or if it’s because of your longing profession of becoming a doctor. You think it’s a combination of both.

“What should we watch?” Jeonghan asks as he flips through shows and movies available on netflix. You shrugged your shoulders and told him you were okay with any. Soon, the two of you settled with Grey’s Anatomy--a show you absolutely loved. Jeonghan was never a fan of medical shows or whatsoever, but if his girl was going to be a doctor, he’ll have to get familiar with some terminologies, right?

Three episodes have passed and the two of you were still in the same position as before, cuddled on the couch. You were still watching intently, but you were not so sure about Jeonghan though. Not seeing his face, you guess that he probably fell asleep when you guys were just halfway through the first episode. You didn’t mind though. He deserved to rest.

However, your guess was proven wrong when you suddenly feel his kiss at the top of your head, causing you to giggle. He did it again, and again, and again, each lasting longer than the previous one, and moving lower and lower. Kissing as a form of affection has become a normal thing between the two of you now. But this time, Jeonghan’s kisses feel more than just affection.

Images in your head started popping in, making your heart rate increase and your breathing pattern to change.

“Yn,” Jeonghan softly whispers to your ears, making your insides churn, “are you okay?”

Fuck it.

You unwrap your arms from his body and take your hands straight to cup his face, taking him by surprise. You close your eyes and lean in to kiss his lips. He freezes for ma second but quickly melts right into the kiss. He uses his hands to take hold of your waist and pulls you in front of him. You oblige and place your knees on either side of his lap.

You detach yourself to catch your breath, but your eyes remained closed as you relinquished the taste of his lips. He did the same, but eager to taste your lips once again, he leans in and kisses you, quite roughly this time. He takes his right hand and places it at the back of your neck, guiding you as the two of you made out on your couch.

“You still have extra clothes here, right?” You ask between your kisses. Jeonghan doesn't respond, and instead kisses you harder. Soon, he trails kisses from your lips to the side if your neck. Whispers escape you lips as you cock your head to the side to give him more room.

This night is going to be long.

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

tags:

@yyxyzti @acciofirewhiskey @doiewonu @shuajeong @wooziverse @boogyuu @rjsmochii @haniehae @twentysixofmays @suhfluffy @dancingddays @lovingyu04 @sydneyy-jade @itsdnguyenxoxo @fluffyhyeju @haoraecane @dy-mglzz @1800zuho @t-secretpot @floweryjeons @yaebbinnie @t-secretpot @not-sojoyuus @xcalicoups @ryuyalana @bubblywonu @youbloominsideofme @lavenonie @wonwoonlight @yoonzinow @mariecoura @juji-han @strawbinnie-shortcake @isa499 @pseudoyop @serenadesvt @glouraeswei @glowingjaehyun @sunflowergyeomie @kunmaid @apricottulips @hao-ling @cheolright @pancakeandfrogs @yanniezx @jeonjungkaka @sunflower-euphro @monstathedisco

unable to tag: @tyongs @jeongjungkaka @jammyjamjamss @hauntedprincessarbiter @scoffingscully

#caratwritersclub #kwritersworldnet #seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen texts #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #svt au #seventeen social media au #svt #svt texts #svt scenarios

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babygirl-diaz · 3 years

Text

Press Conference

(For @sunnyteacups. Thank you for the idea! Sorry, this ended up being different from your prompt. But I hope you like it!)

***

Sam watches from a distance a journalist from Denver, Summer, puts her hand on Bucky's arm and laughs at something he says. Her hand trails further up and squeezes his bicep which Bucky doesn't seem to mind at all. If anything, he laughs along with her and leans in closer to her to say something. Sam closes his eyes briefly and swallows back his anger.

***

They're in Austin when a young journalist named Tyler corners him after the press conference and fanboys over how much he loves Captain America. It's kinda endearing really... the passion with which Tyler speaks about him. He goes as far as to call Sam his role model and Sam just shyly smiles at him, scratches the back of his neck, and kindly brushes him off.

"No, for real, Sam!" Says Tyler. "You are my role model. If I can be half the man you are then I'd do my folks proud."

Sam feels his cheeks heat up at the comment and all he can do is thank the young man.

"So are you dating anyone?" Tyler casually asks during their conversation.

"Are you gunning for a story?" Sam asks.

"Oh no!" Tyler exclaims. "I am asking for... personal reasons." He adds, turning up the charm.

"You're too young for me, kid," Sam informs him. The kid would be a better match for Joaquin, Sam thinks to himself.

"I'm 28. Not that young," Tyler insists.

"And I'm 40. Not that old but definitely not young either."

Tyler bites down on his bottom lip and writes something on the paper of his notepad before handing it to Sam. "It's my phone number. In case you have a change of heart and decide you want someone to show you around Austin."

"There's not much to see in, Austin," Sam says with a playful roll of his eyes. "But thanks for the offer anyway." Sam takes the piece of paper and stows it away in his jacket pocket.

"Well, I hope to hear from you," says Tyler. Without a warning, he pulls Sam into a hug much to Sam's surprise.

"I'll see you around," he winks at Sam before walking away.

***

Sam and Bucky share a ride on their way back to the hotel and Bucky is oddly quiet throughout it. His jaw is tight, and his hand clenched on his thigh.

Sam isn't sure what is up with him and he doesn't ask either.

When they reach the hotel, Bucky still stays uncharacteristically quiet. He keeps his distance on the elevator and when they reach their floor, he brushes past Sam to go to his hotel room which happens to be right next to Sam's.

Sam wants to say something, ask him what's going on, but Bucky shuts the door behind him.

Hurt, Sam just goes to his own room.

He's exhausted and doesn't dwell on what's wrong with Bucky. Instead, he takes a shower, calls it an early night, and hits the hay at 7:00 PM.

Sam is woken up from his sleep with a knock on his door. No, not a knock. It's more like a banging on his door. Startled, Sam sits up on his bed and looks around, trying to figure out where he was before remembering. Austin.

The banging continues and Sam finally gets out of bed, padding his way over. He puts on the chain on the door and opens it slightly.

"Buck?" He asks when he finds his friend standing there. His eyes were dark with fury. "What's wrong?"

"Let me in," Bucky demands.

Sam sighs and closes the door before unchaining and letting Bucky in. Bucky pushes past him into the room.

"Bucky, what's going on?" Sam asks, closing the door behind him.

"I thought you were out on a date," Bucky says sitting on the edge of Sam's bed.

"A date?" Sam huffs. "After the crazy day we've just had, you think I had it in me to go out on a date?"

"Then what were you doing? I've been knocking for so long."

"I was sleeping," Sam replies, frowning at him. He didn't like the tone Bucky was using with him.

"Sleeping," Bucky huffs and gets up from his seat. "I was going insane in my room while you were in here sleeping."

"Excuse me?" Sam asks. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means..." Bucky throws his hands up. "Why did you take his number?" He asks instead.

"Who's number?" Sam was too sleep-deprived for this conversation.

"That kid. The one you were talking to earlier."

"Oh," Sam mumbles before adding, "It's none of your business."

Bucky steps closer to Sam and looks him in the eyes. "Well, I am making it my business. Why did you take his number?"

"Why were you flirting with Summer Raine?" Sam asks crossing his arms across his chest.

That seems to throw Bucky off. "What?"

"You heard me!" Sam pushes him back.

Bucky stumbles back and says, "I wasn't flirting with anyone."

"Right right so that was just my imagination. Since I have nothing better to do, I sat there imagining you telling Summer shitty jokes and her laughing at them."

"My jokes are amazing!" Bucky frowns at him. "And don't deviate from the point. Why did you take that kid's phone number?"

"Because he was sweet and he gave it to me."

"Are you gonna go out on a date with him?"

"What's it to you?" Sam asks.

"You can't go out with him."

"Why not?" Sam gets up in Bucky's face.

"Because I want you to go out with me!" Bucky exclaims.

Taken aback by Bucky's words, Sam stumbles. "What?"

Instead of replying, Bucky closes the distance between them. He moves his hand around the back of Sam's head and pulls him in for a kiss. Sam doesn't respond at first. When he's able to gather his wits about him, he eagerly returns it.

It is a deep, heated kiss and Bucky practically eats Sam up, kissing him like he is the only thing in the entire world.

Bucky backs him up until the back of Sam's legs is hitting the bed.

"Bucky, wait," Sam says breathlessly when Bucky pulls apart and tries to push him down.

"What's wrong?" Bucky asks.

"We can't do this..." Sam replies.

Bucky's eyebrows furrow. "Why not?"

"I mean we can't do this here." Sam clarifies. "The people we work with and the press corps are all in this hotel. I don't want to risk anyone seeing us together."

"I don't care who sees us together," Bucky grumbles and pulls Sam close. He peppers a kiss along the column of Sam's neck, making Sam moan softly.

"I do," Sam replies, and despite the protests of his own heart, he pushes Bucky away.

Bucky sighs as he pulls away from him. "Fine," he huffs. "I'll let you go. For now. But the second we get back to D.C. you're mine."

Sam shudders at the low gravelly voice he uses. "All yours," he promises.

Bucky kisses him one more time before heading out, leaving Sam standing there reconsidering his decision.

#SamBucky #TFATWS #fanfic #aashnas drabble

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21u004 · 3 years

Text

the last / okkotsu yuuta / april 4th, 2021

okkotsu yuuta is not an early bird.

he doesn’t like getting up before the sun, but he learned to love it when he once watched it rise with you. he doesn’t like cold showers in the morning, but he’s willing to take them to be presentable for you. he doesn’t like alarms, but he’s willing to make as many as he can to wake up with you.

yuuta is not an early bird, but at 5 in the morning, fully-dressed and awake, he’s in front of an old convenience store, six feet away from where you sat down.

reluctant to call out your name, his gaze and shoulders heavy with unnecessary guilt.

he eventually greets you.

“good morning,” he tells you at 5:16 a.m.

his voice is raspy, possibly from how it’s only been 53 minutes since he woke up.

you don’t mind it anyways; you’ve gotten used to hearing its soft whispers of “good morning” whenever he comes by your place to pick you up, or the lighthearted bursts of laughter when he finds himself in a stupid situation, or how he leans into your ear to tell you how wonderful you look when it’s too crowded and you’re struck with unpleasant thoughts.

it takes you minutes to reply, hesitant and distracted with thoughts wondering why he was here even if it had been you that called him over last night.

he figures you haven’t noticed him yet, so he takes three steps towards you.

one for each year you both spent calling and finding home in each other.

the first year, when you first ask him to go stargazing with you even though there were barely even stars at night with how bright the city is.

the second year, when he’s not-so-shy to let you know about how he carries an extra scarf from fall until spring because he’s memorized your forgetfulness.

the third year, when things start to fall apart, but you’re both still able to mend it back together. (or pretend that it’s fixed.)

and the fourth—

“you really came, huh,” your voice is low and almost inaudible except for the pained chuckle at the end of your sentence.

full of regret, your head hangs low. maybe it wasn’t a good idea to have invited him.

he was stupid to have actually come anyway.

and honestly, he didn’t want to come had it been someone else that invited him out at morning.

but it’s you who invited him, and he’s never been able to say no to you. not when he doesn’t like seeing you disappointed.

“of course,” he lowers his gaze to the ground, unable to look at you without feeling his head and chest ache every second. “you know i’d never flake out on you.”

—then why was there never a fourth year?

something stings your eyes and blur your vision for a moment.

they’re gone when you blink, leaving behind a wet trail down your cheek that was quick to dry when the breeze passes you by.

a sore, forced laugh leaves your lips, followed by a cough that has him rushing to your side and patting your back gently while worried eyes watch over you for every second that passed by.

“are you okay?” despite his hoarse and harsh-sounding voice, his tone is sweet and mellow, dipped in genuine concern, rough hands handling you delicately.

everything’s silent other than your cough resonating in the empty parking lot and his soft pats on your back ringing in your ears. it remains empty aside from the two of you.

too bad it wasn’t open for 24 hours so that there would be a few vehicles around or aisles for you to hide behind and then you wouldn’t have to face him.

that’s what you’ve always done though.

run away from reality and its problems.

it’s time for you to face it again.

“sorry,” you cough into your elbow. “yeah, i’m fine.”

yuta knows about how often you lie about your condition, so he asks one more time in hopes of getting an honest answer.

a nod is all he gets. he doesn’t question you again.

he wants to though.

he wants to ask if you’re okay and if you two can try again.

still, he doesn’t because he knows that he’s going to get both a ‘yes’ and a 'no’, and he knows which answer belonged to which question.

backing away from you, he sits when he deems the distance between you two not too far nor too close. you’re more than a hand’s reach, and that’s enough for him. he wants to be closer, but to have you around is already enough for him.

it’s already 5:28.

time passes too quickly.

despite wanting to cherish the moment, sit in silence and hopefully, peace as well, he stops his stalling and questions your need to see him in the morning when there’s so much more time left on the clock.

as he’s fulfilled your desire to meet him, you fulfill his of basking in the stillness of the world—with you.

you, and not someone else.

you, because you’re the one he wants to have around.

you, because he—

—loves you.

he loves you, and not someone else, because he can’t see himself with anyone else other than you.

(and he’ll keep on loving you, even if you tell him to stop for his sake and yours.)

“do you still remember?” you mumble in your folded arms on your knees. “when we first met.”

of course he does. it was somewhat unusual and unforgettable aside from the fact that the place you’re both at right now is where you two met.

a cold, lonely dawn spent at an empty parking lot of a convenience store. two kids feeling empty and drained until he decided to strike up a conversation with you, wondering why you were there when you could ask him the same. neither of you judged each other about it though, understanding one another regardless being in different situations.

that’s when you both got on the same vehicle and drove to a road that led to now.

it was like any other roadtrip, fun yet tiring, but neither of you realized that when everything was romanticized since the moment you two got on. it really was stupid of you two to think that meeting at a convenience store was romantic because it’s not.

it really was stupid of you to ignore the warning signs.

“yeah,” scratching his nape, he tilts his head to get a glimpse of your face, but he only sees your back. “we danced around even though there wasn’t any music playing.”

“it was dumb,” you turn away from him as if you were going to get the urge remake the mistakes you made then if you saw his undeniably pretty features.

“it was fun though,” a shy, embarrassed smile tugs at his lips. he hopes you’re smiling too.

“wanna do it again?”

this was dumber.

though you’re not going to make the same mistakes again. this was the end already, after all. there’s no more mistakes to be made when there’s no choices to be made.

the deep inhale of the cold air stings your lungs as you finally face him for the first time today, standing up and holding a hand out to him.

he swallows the last bit of hesitance that was preventing him from taking your hand, then starts to pull you into him.

“still no music?” one of his hands run to your waist.

you answer him as he’s about to intertwine his other with yours by taking out your phone and a slow, gloomy melody begins to play. it echoes in the empty space lightly when you settle it on the cold cement floor.

no comments were made about the choice of music. his hand rests on your waist while yours on his shoulder, the others laced together.

for a moment, you’re both back to the start.

dwelling in the glum atmosphere, savoring each other’s company.

still unable to look each other in the eye so you two opt for the ground or anywhere other than the eyes or face. stiffly and awkwardly swaying, feet pausing every few seconds in doubt, choosing which steps to take because it’s not used to dancing.

bathing in the lowlight of mornings that turn into something better because that’s what you two are good at: romanticizing the hopeless and the unromantic.

“i wanted to have a last dance with you,” you mutter, afraid he hears it. “that’s why.”

with the little space between your bodies, he does hear it. like your first meeting, he doesn’t judge you for it. he likes dancing with you anyways.

“it doesn’t have to be the last one,” he wishes to say but it remains as a thought, the lack of courage not allowing him to use his voice. knowing he’s going to regret doing so later, he still keeps them to himself.

so instead, he says something else.

“we can always dance again, if you’d like.”

fuck.

that’s even worse. (is it?)

on his shoulder, he feels your fingers claw at him. he wasn’t supposed to say that. at least he doesn’t mind it, but maybe you do.

you said it yourself, this was the last. maybe you said that because you didn’t want to anymore, he overthinks.

with closed eyes, your fingers loosen up on the cotton material, relaxing and exhaling slowly through your nose.

“that's—” he tenses up at your voice.

“that’s cool.”

did he hear you right?

“i don’t mind dancing with you again but,” the corner of your lips curl up, a burning sensation in your lungs when you inhale the cold morning air and finish your sentence. “someone might.”

someone, meaning the person you see himself with in your stead. the person whom you’re convinced is better than you. the person whom you’re convinced is more fitting for him, unlike you.

your eyes meet, and he can see through you.

you always lied about how you felt, until now.

it’s all obvious with the way your voice stutters, eyes falter, and hands tremble; with how you avoid his gaze as much as you can because it’s become unbearable to look at him without having your heart be spared from being torn into little pieces.

yuuta’s done beating around the bushes. biting his lip, his hands squeeze your waist and hand, his gaze shaky.

“you didn’t have to end this.”

having enough of it, too much for him to contain, he bursts into tears and lays his head on your shoulder, shuddering and holding onto you tightly, as if that was ever going to stop you from letting go.

“it was better for the both of us.”

the music gets drowned out by his choked sobs, the sky growing a little brighter than before each minute.

the sun rises slowly and lights up the dark corners of the world, and there’s nothing you can do but watch another day begin again.

there’s nothing you can do to stop yuuta crying.

there was nothing you could do to stop yourself from falling out of love.

(and even if you could prevent it, the road was always going to lead here.)

and as your shoulder gets soaked in tears, while you softly tug at the black tufts of his hair, you remember that there never was a fourth year because you—your insecurities—cut it off before he could. (because he never would, and neither would you.)

at your reply, he wonders why he even came here in the first place. was it because he was hopeful that you’d take him back again? (definitely.)

it’s too early for this, and okkotsu yuuta is not an early bird.

he doesn’t like getting up before the sun, but today, he did just for you. he doesn’t like cold showers in the morning, but today, he took them to be presentable for you. he doesn’t like alarms, but last night, he made as many as he could to make sure he doesn’t wake up late and make you wait for nothing.

yuuta is not an early bird, so he faces the consequences of being left.

(while he’s busy facing his consequences, you’re facing yours: having to wake up knowing he’s someone else’s because of you.)

(you never wanted to leave, but it was better than to have him abandon you.)

(even if he never was going to.)

#unedited #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk angst #okkotsu yuuta x reader

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writersrealmbts · 3 years

Text

Diamond Tears and Little Wings: Part 4

Description: You’re a fairy, taken in by BTS. You need lots of love and care, otherwise your light will fade and you turn to stone. Between the seven of them, you should never feel unloved. Right?

Warnings: N/A

Posted: 01/28/2021

Tags: bts x reader, ot7

Angst/Fluff: 4,695 words

A/N: Well it’s been forever, and you guys wouldn’t let me forget about this so it’s done, I just have to pick when to post them. Hope you enjoy this update. And Imma say this once, ao3 is going to get more regular updates than tumblr.

You were in a cage.

It was not okay.

And they knew it too.

They were steaming mad when they saw it.

Dehumanizing.

But then, you weren’t actually human.

Jin, thankfully, was never completely kowtowed by the company. He made a good show of backing off, and pulling the other boys back to make them complacent.

Then the moment no one was paying attention he went over, pulling you out, hid you in his pocket and maybe bent the latch on the door so that it wouldn’t close properly.

He handed you off to Yoongi as soon as he could, and Yoongi hid you just in time for the staff to notice you weren’t in the cage and begin to question the others.

The boys kept slipping you to each other as they were inspected for you, but the staff never did find you, and the boys made a big deal out of them losing you.

You loved your boys.

Even if they were making you go through with this fansign appearance.

Tae made a big show of “finding” you just before they went out, then an even bigger fuss with taking you out with him instead of in a cage.

And apparently the staff knew what losing looked like, because they gave in.

So you were hiding in Taehyung’s pocket as they went out to greet their fans, with earplugs in as well as covering your poor ears because holy hell it was loud. While you waited for it to quiet down, you tried to stay completely still.

You could make out the staff explaining that you were there, requesting them to be respectful of noise since you were sound sensitive, but also that you were there because you’d gotten a fairy illness and had to be close to the boys for your health. Which you felt was pretty ironic considering they wanted to send you away if the fans didn’t accept you.

After a few events, Taehyung put his hand over the pocket you were hiding in, the signal he had told you earlier.

You took a few deep breaths, then stood, grabbing the edge of his pocket and peeking out.

No one noticed you at first, thankfully, allowing you to take in the large crowd, and the activity of the boys before you pulled yourself out of the pocket, fluttering up to his shoulder.

The fan in front of him noticed you first, eyes widening.

You squeaked as you slipped over the slope of his shoulder, grabbing the fabric so you wouldn’t fall all the way down and get squished, especially since he was so focused on the fan that he didn’t notice you falling.

You crawled back up his shirt, peering at the fan that was getting her album copy signed. She was cute.

They were all cute. But only because they loved your boys and supported your boys.

She asked something that you couldn’t make out due to the earplugs, but Taehyung grinned and looked at you on his shoulder, replying that you were shy.

You ducked back, climbing sideways until you were behind his head. Then you climbed up until you reached the collar, then his hair, giggling when he flinched ever so slightly at the feeling of you climbing into his hair. You wrinkled your nose at the stickiness from the styling products, then let go, fluttering back down to his shirt and wiping your hands off on his shirt.

A hand came over and rubbed Tae’s neck (almost squishing you, but hovering just long enough for you to get out of the way) then sort of lay out flat, inviting.

You smiled and climbed onto Jin’s hand, riding it over to him as he pretended to stretch—allowing you to hop onto his head (which had less product in it, thank goodness). You tucked yourself out of the way without messing up his hair. You made sure to be able to see everything outside.

There was definitely an increase in noise when you had been visible, but you weren’t certain whether it was due to something the boys did or because of you.

Everything was fine for a little while, then you felt Seokjin shake his head slightly. A couple seconds, or maybe minutes, later, his hand came up. Tense. Uneasy.

You stared at it, then extricated yourself and crawled on.

He passed you over to Yoongi.

Yoongi set you on the table, one finger caressing your hair. He showed you a note.

‘We had to bring you out. Stay close to us.’

You nodded, glad that he was guarding you from the sight of the fans for just a little longer, and kicked the note off of the table.

You made sure you looked okay in your little mirror, then looked up at him, nodding.

He nodded as well, hand moving away as he greeted the next fan in the line up.

You looked around, still a little overwhelmed by the crowd and the scrutiny. Finally you settled on sitting just out of the way between Yoongi and Hoseok and watching the fans pass by, noting the curious looks they gave you.

The whole situation was strange to you. It wasn’t like your presence added anything or took anything away from the event. Not in your mind. You were aware—more than aware—that your gender could be a point of criticism and unrest that could damage their careers.

But you were harmless…weren’t you?

The boys operated as though you weren’t there, focused on their fans. They were very discreet about taking care of you.

You took another deep breath, then pulled out the earplugs.

“She’s so tiny!”

“How cute!”

“Did you see her hiding in Jin’s hair?”

“Her peeking over Taehyung-oppa’s shoulder was so adorable!”

“She doesn’t belong there.”

You closed your eyes, frowning slightly at the bombardment of voices.

“She could ruin their career.”

“She’s too pretty.”

“Jimin-oppa is so handsome!”

“She better not be the kind that can change sizes.”

You wanted to hide. You knew the boys couldn’t hear the comments, their hearing wasn’t as sensitive as yours, but that didn’t mean the comments didn’t exist.

“She isn’t dressed very modestly either. I bet she’s their sl—”

“Oh my Gosh! Look at Jungkook! He’s so cute!”

“Oppa!”

You crawled over and pressed yourself against Yoongi’s elbow, overwhelmed and trying to get the earplugs back in.

His elbow moved and then his hand covered you protectively. He didn’t do anything else, just protected you while you stuffed your ears again. Lifted a finger to check on you, then removed his hand when you signaled you were okay.

You got up, looking around again, then fluttering up so you could look at the picture in the album that Yoongi had opened to.

An excellent picture of Yoongi.

You landed again, looking around, then running toward Hoseok to observe him, tripping when a sticker got stuck on your foot and shaking it to try and get it off, hopping and then falling.

You could hear Hoseok’s laugh, and he carefully picked you up, flicking the sticker off of your foot and then setting you back on the table.

He was talking more animatedly with the fan in front of him, laughing and signing the album in front of him with a genuine smile. He looked so nice when he smiled.

On his other side, Jimin was basically flirting with the fan in front of him. Goofing off, but Jimin was always showing himself. Always showing a touch of honesty in his actions. Opening himself up to things.

You worried about him, but you knew the other boys would always catch him if he fell.

They always caught each other. Supported each other, got each other to the therapist when needed, and held out until the other was well enough to continue without full support.

Where did you fit into that scheme?

You felt your wings droop. They said…they said that they cared about you, and their actions confirmed that. But did they really have time for you?

A finger poked your belly.

You looked up at Hoseok, then grabbed his finger and held onto it.

He lifted you up, peering at you with carefully veiled concern. “You okay, y/n?”

You shook your head.

He glanced at the others, then looked down the line, leaning forward and saying something to the others.

Jimin nodded, then reached over.

You glanced at Hoseok, then dropped into the waiting hand.

Jimin peeked at you, smiling momentarily, then passing you to the next waiting hand.

Jungkook took you carefully, bringing you up to his shirt pocket. “It’s okay.”

You nodded and crawled into the pocket, happy that all the boys with shirt pockets had stashed some of your blankets in them. You wrapped up, trying to calm yourself. Their preparation was just evidence of how much they cared for you. They got you houseplants and they were searching for a new dollhouse for you (you would have been happy with anything, but they were being very particular). They fed you when you couldn’t do it for yourself and took care of you when you were too floaty to do so yourself. They’d brought home dozens of flowering plants, imported different floral teas, got raw honey, brought you toys, made sure their pets didn’t eat you (you forgave Tannie, but man that was a close call), and made room in their hearts for you.

And they gave you kisses, sometimes. Jin was the most allowed to give you kisses, because his were simple and sweet and very quick. TaeTae had given you a couple pecks. Jimin didn’t dare kiss you yet after what happened last time. Hoseok was fond of placing kisses all over your face. Namjoon and Yoongi weren’t as physical with affection so you didn’t expect kisses, but Yoongi often held your hand or let you cuddle up to him. Namjoon liked sharing space with you, and often suggested books he thought you might like, it was his own sort of affection.

Then there was Jungkook.

He’d taken to carrying you around even when you were fine (you weren’t about to complain) and no matter your size.

You wrapped yourself tighter in the blanket, shivering as you battled the thoughts in your head.

Jungkook’s chest vibrated, speaking to the fans. His words weren’t clear to you, but it was lighthearted and happy.

So happy.

Did you really have any right to ruin their happiness with their fans?

But how much happiness would you be taking away if you left now?

You felt his chest move suddenly, like he had laughed or was startled or upset by something.

His fingers suddenly plucked you out of the pocket, gentle but stiff.

You winced and peeked out of the blanket, confused.

His face was tense, especially around his jaw, even though he was faking a smile.

You got the unspoken message. He was forced to pull you out. You needed to show yourself to the fans.

You huffed and wiggled out of the blanket, flying as fast as you could down the line to Namjoon, landing lightly before reaching him completely and walking the last few steps, flopping over his arm and then resting your head on your elbows, watching him interact with the fan. They seemed to be almost down with the signing part of their event.

You rode his arm as he moved it, gripping onto the sleep so you didn’t get thrown into the wall behind them.

There was an increase of noise and then both Namjoon and Taehyung were making sure you were okay.

You hopped off of his arm, sitting down cross-legged and facing the crowd. “I’ve learned my lesson.”

They definitely didn’t hear you, but both boys looked relieved that you were okay.

You sat there, observing the fans for a while. Your earplugs were great, but you could feel the rise and fall in the volume all through your body. You could feel someone bump the table, you would have those spots in front of your eyes for weeks from all of the flashing lights.

You had to make these people like you. Had to make them understand that you posed no threat to the boys. You had to show them that there was no way you could do anything that would be…detrimental to them.

It would help if you knew what those things were, though. Maybe you were detrimental to their career just by existing.

You wished, now, that the boys hadn’t divulged the fact that you were the kind that could change size. You had a feeling that it was the one thing that the fans could never get over.

Your only hope was if you could twist what they knew to be size-changing to your advantage. If you sized up, just a little. Maybe became a foot tall instead of three and a half inches, maybe they would accept that.

But that would depend on the managers insistence.

You could already feel the apologetic look Sejin was giving you.

It was enough to make you contemplate running (or flying) away. Getting as far away from that place as you could. Sparing yourself the trouble because they had already decided your fate and were just waiting for the cruel souls to confirm their judgement.

One year with a family.

That’s all you ever got.

You got up quickly and flew back down to Yoongi, staying close but out of his way. If you hadn’t thought the fans would get the wrong idea you would have just hidden under the table. You could easily evade all attempts you pull out out down there.

As it was, you amused yourself by making some of the stickers float and then stealing one of the extra pens (which was definitely bigger than you and you definitely used pixie dust on it) and finding something to write on—which someone provided in the back of a spare picture they had.

You set up a tic-tac-toe game on the back in one corner and pushed it up to the edge of the table, putting an O in the center and waiting for the next fan. Holding out the pen to her.

She blinked at you, eyes wide when she finally noticed, then she carefully took the pen and added an X before continuing to Seokjin.

You contemplated the thing, then added another O, nodding and waiting for the next fan that would acknowledge your existence.

Which was about three fans later.

It ended up a tie, and you started a new one, but ran out of their fans before the game could be completed.

You pouted a bit, but then the pen was being taken from behind.

You quickly released it and turned to see who was the perpetrator, only to see Yoongi peering at the tic-tac-toe game and then lightly brushing you aside so that he could make a move.

You bounced happily and put in an O, watching his fingers carefully as he debated where to put his X, then fluttering up in glee as he put it exactly where you wanted it. You had this game in the bag. Now, no matter where he put his X, you would still get three in a row.

The volume rose as you did a little victory dance, having thoroughly beat him.

You scurried over to Yoongi’s arm and hid behind it because what just happened.

He shook slightly, like he was laughing, as he picked you up carefully. He was grinning, and definitely laughing.

You tilted your head, curious about what was so funny, but not daring to take out the earplug.

Hoseok reached over and gently poked your head, also laughing.

Seokjin was talking into the microphone to the fans, standing up with the others.

Was the event almost over? Was that too good to be true?

Yoongi leaned in closer. “Go back to Taehyung’s pocket,” He told you, just loud enough for you to hear with the earplugs, but you also mostly read his lips because it was sound and vibrations and your mind’s translation of it was a little hazy, but his lips were clear.

You nodded, getting up and running off of his hand, flying straight for Taehyung, landing on his should and then sliding down his shirt and into the pocket—quickly burying yourself under the blankets instead of in them since that backfired earlier.

Tae patted the pocket once, then was busy talking and moving and maybe hiding in his pocket had been a poor life choice.

But his hand went over the pocket you were in, covering it in a very protective gesture.

You shrunk more, to maybe an inch, to try and escape what would happen next.

Tae’s breathing was slightly hasty, like he was trying hard not to lose control.

You teared up, but quickly tried to dash your tears away. You couldn’t cry in public. The boys had been very adamant on that, and worried, they said it would be dangerous for you if you did.

His hand moved away from the pocket slowly, then one of his fingers came in, simply waiting. A simple request that he knew you wouldn’t want to acquiesce.

You took a deep breath, then wrapped around the tip of his finger.

He carefully pulled you out, eyes wide at how tiny you were.

The other boys looked just as surprised and alarmed—all trying so hard to hide their emotions from the fans and pretend everything was peachy.

Tae looked up and then leaned over to talk into the microphone Jimin was holding, telling them something about being right back. Then he hurried back-stage and seemed to usher the staff away.

You grew back to your normal pixie height, looking up at him desperately.

He signaled for you to take the ear-plugs out.

You did, slowly.

“Little Wing…I know you don’t like it, and I know you know that we don’t like it…but they’re insisting that you show our fans your full size. You can change size back here…but….”

You looked down at his palm, then nodded.

He waited patiently as you calmed yourself a little and then changed sized, but with as small and scared as you were feeling you couldn’t get as big as you normally would. Your chin came just above his belly-button.

His hand softly stroked your hair. “I know how stressful this is.”

You met his gaze. “No matter what happens, they’re sending me away.”

His face became anguished, and he closed his eyes as though to regain some of his composure, pulling you into a loose hug. “We’ll turn the world upside down before we give up on you.”

You took a shaky breath and did your best to grow the last bit to your height, but you only managed a couple inches.

Tae kissed your forehead. “Come on, this is good enough.”

You hugged his arm, keeping on the side that would keep him in between you and the fans, absolutely petrified as he led you back out in front of the crowd. Doing your best to still hide because you didn’t like this one bit.

It got scarily quiet.

“Army, this is Y/n,” Jimin said in a soft tone, coming over to you. “She’s really shy, so this is a lot for her. She doesn’t like being in her big form in front of strangers.”

Jungkook rested a hand on your shoulder, giving it a very gently squeeze.

“Y/n, can you say something to Army?” Namjoon asked.

You couldn’t even breath, pinpointing every glare sent your way, and quickly shook your head, rapidly shrinking.

Jungkook scooped you up when you were the size of a toddler, holding onto you firmly. “Do you want to ride on my back?”

You nodded.

He set you on the table and turned around, letting you latch on and then changing the topic to something else like you weren’t hiding by hanging onto his back.

You started to panic when someone grabbed you, but then noticed it was Sejin, and let him take you back-stage. You finally relaxed a bit when you were in the waiting room back-stage and Sejin had shooed all of the staff from the room.

You found one of the boys sweatshirts and wiggled into it, cocooning yourself in the ultra-long sleeves and extra fabric and then curling into a ball on the couch.

You woke again when you were being carried, recognizing the comforting “shh” as Jimin’s and letting yourself drift off a little, barely recognizing that you had been brought into a vehicle.

Namjoon was cradling you when you woke up fully, back at the house. His hair looked freshly dried, and he was dressed in comfy clothing.

The other boys were slowly filtering back to the living room with food and drinks, all freshly showered.

Namjoon tightened his hold on you when he saw you were awake. “Hey, baby.”

You rubbed your eyes. “Hey. How long was I asleep?”

“Four hours,” Hoseok answered, plopping a kiss onto your forehead after moving the hood of the sweatshirt.

Your eyes widened slightly, but were too tired to do much more than that. “So we’ve already been back to the office and then home?”

Yoongi nodded. “It’s no wonder you slept, that was a highly stressful situation for you.

Hoseok didn't look happy. “What were they thinking, forcing you to size up like that? Forcing you into a situation like that?”

“Probably something along the lines of ‘oh, how convenient, a way to get rid of the annoying fairy that we only got them for good publicity’,” You answered.

All the boys looked angry after that.

You shrugged, unwrapping yourself and then sizing up some more, about the size you were earlier. “You know it’s true. Don’t tell me you don’t. The whole point of this is to get rid of me.”

“Why?!” Jimin snapped. “Why would they want to get rid of you? Things were fine!”

You looked up and met Namjoon’s troubled gaze. “The v-live you boys had. The night Jimin kissed me and I got loopy. Someone told the viewers that I could change size.”

Namjoon’s eyes widened slightly, and his jaw set in frustration. “Which makes it scandalous for you to be living with us.”

Yoongi looked like he might be sick. “I said it. Why did I say it?”

Jin rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it.

“It’s not your fault. It would have come out at some point or other,” You told them. “But it’s also because I do distract all of you. I’m a liability on many fronts. I have no doubt that they’re already arranging everything regarding me being taken away.”

Namjoon gently set you on the seat beside him, reaching for a bag beside the couch, not at all surprised while the others still seemed like they were processing it.

You waited, wondering what he had in the bag, but mostly waiting for the other boys to be ready for the rest of the conversation you knew had to happen. It was obvious, now that you looked back, that the staff were preparing to get rid of you.

“I got something for all of us. Had them made, actually,” Namjoon said quietly. “I was afraid that something like this might happen.”

That seemed to get the boys attention.

Namjoon pulled out little gift-boxes. Eight of them. Each one was carefully marked, but you weren’t sure what the marks meant. But he did, handing them out to each of you.

You held your box nervously.

“I wanted each of us to have something, to remind you that we love you, y/n. Especially when we’re busy with shows and tours. Because we already know you love us, and nothing could make us forget that.”

You opened the box, revealing a simple bracelet, with two inset diamond tears. Both microscopically engraved with itty bitty words that you couldn’t make out, only visible to you because, well, you were magic.

Namjoon grabbed his phone, turning on the flashlight and pulling the bracelet so the diamonds were over the light, projecting it onto the ceiling.

It had all of their names, and yours, and it said that they loved you forever. And it also had the BTS symbol with fairy wings in them.

You stared up at the ceiling in awe, then carefully took the bracelet. It was made of a magical material, one that would shrink and grow with you unlike most other metals. “This is fairy-made.”

He nodded, looking a little sheepish. “I figured with your tears it was best to go to a fairy for this work.”

You quickly looked around the room.

Tae had a similar bracelet to yours, that he was examining with tear-filled eyes.

Yoongi had a ring with black metal, and was already wearing it.

Jimin and Jin had a necklaces, both different than each other’s.

Hoseok had a different style of bracelet.

Namjoon had a ring that he was playing with, made with a lighter metal than Yoongi’s.

Jungkook had earrings, a stud and a dangling earring, and he was already switching them out.

Everyone was quiet, most of the boys staring at their gift and looking upset in some way.

“When they remove me…because this was a better home for me…my best home…they’ll have to lock away the memories. I’ll be able to keep my things, and the memories can be recovered, but unless I’m in a situation where I am as loved, or more loved, and equally as happy…I would need to return to you all if I remembered.” You carefully put on the bracelet. “It’s a hard process. And they’ll probably send me somewhere else, somewhere I won’t be…as likely to find you, or vice versa.

“Like a different city?” Jimin asked.

“Like a different country. It happens a lot. Fairies can speak whatever language they need.” You shrugged, not looking at them. Not able to bear their heartache as well as your own.

“We’ll find you. Doesn’t matter where you are in the world. We’ll find you,” Jungkook said quietly.

It was quiet again after that.

Then Jin cleared his throat. “Jungkook, help me pull the mattresses in here.”

They all got up to do something, whether it was helping Jin and Jungkook create a giant bed in the living room or getting ready for bed, or just trying to calm themselves by pretending to do something.

Tae was the first to come back to you, cuddling with you on the couch, comparing the bracelets. “I’m glad mine matches yours, but I wonder why hyung did that.”

You peeked up at him. “You were the one who found me.”

His eyes filled, and he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips that you melted into.

Then the two of you stayed cuddled up while Hoseok directed the madness of making the bed.

Yoongi came over and cupped your face in his hands. “You know we’re not letting you go without a fight, right?”

You nodded, closing your eyes as he kissed your forehead—opening them when he softly kissed your lips.

Then you were cuddling up with all seven boys on the bed, trying not to cry because your mind kept saying, ‘This might be the last time’.

And Jimin’s shirt would definitely be ruined by your tears solidifying in his shirt, but you knew he wouldn’t complain as long as you didn’t mention his tears to the others.

Even Namjoon was crying, though, so you doubted any teasing would be happening.

Hoseok and Jin left, Hoseok’s sobs echoing down the hallway before they locked themselves in one of the rooms.

Yoongi sniffled and squeezed your hand.

Jungkook’s sniffles turned into snores.

And as you fell asleep, you felt the way Taehyung’s breaths shook his body, gently pressed against your back and wings.

–

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aellynera · 3 years

Text

Loose Change (Llewyn Davis x Reader)

LOOSE CHANGE

For this week’s Writer Wednesday hosted by the lovely @autumnleaves1991-blog! Llewyn was the first thing that popped into my head when I saw this, and I really don’t know where the rest of it came from, but I just had to write it. Thank you for reading, commenting, liking, and reblogging! 💜💜

This week’s inspiration:

Word Count: 2300 on the dot.

Summary: How bad can it be when your phone rings in the middle of the night? (An alternate take on what could have happened on the way back from Chicago.)

Warnings: Angsty. Hopeful. Hopeful angst? Angstful hope? Maybe a swear or two. Sketchy phone booths. Wrong numbers. Yearning. Secrets, poor decisions, better choices.

The bed was warm but you could hear the cold rain pounding on the window behind your head. Ignoring it and staying in your cozy, comfortable cocoon was definitely your best option, and you rolled over and pulled the blankets tighter over your head. This was the right place to be and you felt yourself start drifting back to sleep.

Until your phone started ringing.

Your phone, which was nowhere near your bed, or even in your bedroom. It wasn’t even within fifty feet of you; it was securely fastened to the wall in your kitchen, by the sink, next to the pantry door. And your kitchen was clear on the other side of the apartment.

A quick check of the clock told you that it was also the ungodly hour of 3:28 am, the red digits blaring at you angrily in the near-dark. Who in the world was calling you at this hour? For a long few minutes you thought about ignoring it. It was probably a wrong number. That happened all the time. Or maybe it was some kids having a party and pranking. In the middle of the night. That was probably it.

But a little tickle at the back of your brain, small and sinewy, kept curling around your thoughts and rationalization and it wouldn’t let go. Maybe it’s important. Maybe it really was. Maybe something happened to one of your parents or your sister or-

The phone didn’t stop ringing. So it must be important.

With an exasperated groan, you launched yourself out of bed, one quilt still wrapped around you to ward off the damp chill. Your bare feet slapped along the tile floor and your balance wavered slightly, your muscles still used to being asleep, until you finally got to the kitchen and yanked the receiver off the ringing phone.

“Hello?” your sleep-ridden voice rasped out cautiously.

“Hey,” the voice on the other end came back. “You got the stuff?”

“The...what?”

“You know, the…”

“The st...No! Do you know what time it is? This is a wrong number! What the hell!” You slammed the phone back down on its cradle.

Figures. It was a wrong number. You wanted to go back to bed, you really did. But now you found yourself wide awake because someone wanted stuff that you wouldn’t have day or night.

So you wandered over to the couch and tried to get comfortable on the lumpy cushions, and watched the rain coming down outside your window bounce dramatically off the fire escape.

Until your phone rang again.

A curse flew from your lips as you hurled the quilt off and stomped back to the phone. You grabbed it, put it to your ear, and shouted, “What?”

“I...are you okay?” a voice came back. A familiar voice, this time.

“Llewyn? Is that you?” you closed your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s me,” he replied. “Uh, sorry I’m calling you so late.”

You sighed. “I’m fine. It’s fine. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I guess. I just...some stuff happened, and I needed to hear a familiar voice.”

Your heart immediately softened in your chest, despite your very strong desire to still be angry. Llewyn certainly didn’t sound okay, but that was his norm. You wanted to reach through the phone and hold him, care for him.

You always had a soft spot for him, ever since Jean introduced you so long ago, that day in the park when all the musician friends gathered to play at the fountain. He spent a fair amount of time sleeping on this lumpy old couch. You cooked him a hot meal when you could (and when he would let you), gave him a place to stay even if you weren’t home (on the rare occasion that he would even agree to it, which was slowly becoming more frequent.) You went to as many of his shows as you could, and you really just liked to hang out with him when he was around. He’d slowly become one of your best friends.

And yeah, he was kind of an asshole a lot of the time, but he was sweet and you probably liked him a little more than you were willing to admit.

“Llewyn, where are you? Do you need me to come get you or something?” you asked with a yawn. You really hoped that’s why he was calling you at...3:37 am..

His laugh was short. “Well, if you feel like driving to Ohio, sure.”

“Ohio?” you cried. “What are you doing in…”

The laugh from moments before fell into a sigh and you could hear a soft thunk follow. “I’m in Akron. In a payphone booth outside of a bar, banging my head on the glass. I’ll hitchhike home in the morning, it’s fine.”

“You’re in Akron,” you repeated slowly. “Why are you in Akron?”

“Because I was in Chicago-”

“Which is not Akron, the last time I checked. Or even the same state,” you pointed out. You picked the quilt up from the floor and wrapped yourself back in it, settling on the couch again. The receiver cord had just enough reach that you were able to sit with your back against one arm and stare back out the window and the slippery wet metal of the fire escape glinting in the moonlight.

Vaguely you remembered this was the quilt Llewyn had used the last time he stayed with you.

“Well it’s on the way back,” Llewyn snapped. “And I wouldn’t be in Akron if the car I was in hadn’t broken down and…”

“Does this have something to do with Diane?” you asked softly. That sinewy tentacle of intuition was back, curling around your brain again.

The rough exhale of air on the other end of the line was the only answer you needed.

“Llewyn.” You said again, still soft, but more stern. Something was going on, and you could tell he wasn’t going to tell you without some prodding.

After what felt like hours, he finally muttered, “Maybe.”

“Llewyn, what are you doing? You can’t possibly want to talk to her, after everything that happened. Did the car really break down in Akron, or did you request a stop? Because it seems kind of suspect that you would just, you know, end up there of all places on your way back from Chicago, and what were you even doing in Chicago? I just saw you a couple days ago and you didn’t say anything about--”

It wasn’t until Llewyn broke through your rant that you noticed you’d hadn’t stopped for a single breath.

“The car really did break down,” he insisted. “And I don’t actually want to see her. Not really. But...I feel like I kind of have to, and it’s...it’s just a coincidence that I got stranded here?”

You didn’t know what to say. So you didn’t, and after a beat, he continued.

“I have a kid.”

It suddenly felt like all the air was sucked out of the room. “I’m sorry, what?” You knew he couldn’t see you, but maybe he could feel the way your eyebrows shot up your forehead.

“Diane,” he sighed again, “she didn’t...I found out she had the kid. So I have a kid. Somewhere in Akron. Where I’m currently stranded, looking like a drunk bum loitering outside a sketchy bar.”

You blinked infinitely as you stared out the window. What do you say to that? How do you say anything to that? So you just said the first thing that came to mind.

“Are you drunk?”

“Really?” Now you were pretty sure you could hear his brows raise. “Do I sound like I’ve been drinking?”

“No, I’m sorry, I just...holy shit, Llewyn,” you breathed. “And she never told you?”

His chuckle sounded so morose. “No. Why would she? That was a pretty shit time, for everyone.”

“I’m listening,” you whispered.

You knew the story of what happened between them. Llewyn had told you himself, one night over coffee and an entire chocolate cake that one of your elderly neighbors had made for you for helping her fix her leaky faucet. Of course, Jean had (in her own mind) helpfully filled in all the blanks she swore Llewyn left out, but you preferred to go with his version. She only thought you knew the basics. But that night, fueled by caffeine and frosting, Llewyn admitted you were the only one apart from the actual players that knew everything.

But this part? This was something new.

“She never told me,” he explained. “I thought she went through with it and it turned out she didn’t and she’s not even the one who told me, it was...you know, never mind. That part isn't important.”

“So when did you find out? How long have you been in Akron?”

He sighed. “Just before I left for Chicago. And since this afternoon. I thought about looking them up, but…”

And he told you how he tried an old number he had for Diane’s parents, but it was disconnected. And he’d asked around at the diner he found (over something called chili which wasn’t like any chili he’d ever had and just further proved how weird Ohio was) but got no information. And how he didn’t really want to see her, and maybe he didn’t even really want to meet up with anyone, but if he could, he at least wanted to see what his own kid looked like, just to know.

The longing in his voice, the what if, the hurt. It was all laid bare from hundreds of miles away, yet you could feel it hovering next to you on that couch. Wrapped around you in that threadbare quilt.

It didn’t feel like the time to offer any advice, and platitudes, any words at all. Not now. So you simply curled up in that quilt - his quilt - and listened. It was rare for him to open up like this and you didn’t want to interrupt, didn’t want to staunch the flow of emotional honesty that he quite frankly needed.

Until the tinny, pleasantly fabricated, slightly mechanical voice broke in, if you’d like to continue this call, please add funds, otherwise this call will disconnect in three minutes.

“Shit, that was my last quarter,” Llewyn muttered. “I’ll get back to you when I get back in town, yeah?”

Oh no, you brain screamed. Well, yes, but no, no he was not just going to let the issue drop like this, quarters be damned.

“Llewyn, I need you to listen to me. Get home as soon as you can, and we can talk about this more. And get here in one piece, please be safe.”

“Okay,” he replied with a heavy exhale.

“And...and Llewyn, when you get back home, please...please come home.”

There was silence from his end, silence that lasted so long you thought the call had disconnected without you noticing. Your breath stuck in your lungs, for how long you couldn’t tell, but then suddenly his voice came through the receiver again, flustered and short.

“I...okay, yeah, I will, I gotta go, but...damn it, what is there to lose now, I lo--”

And the call cut off.

You stared at the receiver in your hand for so long the fast busy-beep of the receiver being off the hook is the only thing that snapped you out of it.

You didn’t sleep for the rest of what was left of the night.

For the next day, and the day after, you ran the entire phone call through your head more times that you cared to admit. Every word he’d said, every word you’d said, every pause and admission and what he might have been trying to say at the end. Your mind very (un)helpfully offered all kinds of ideas about what wasn’t said, what maybe couldn’t yet be said, and you just let it tumble around chaotically.

As if you could control it anyway.

You didn’t get much sleep.

Later that night, and on the second day after, after a long day at work and a longer day of thinking, you found yourself curled up on the couch again, with a glass of wine and a record spinning quietly on the turntable. Wrapped in that same quilt. Your quilt- his quilt.

You stared out the window, this time not at the rain, but the setting sun and the soft, rich colors it was painting across the sky.

You hoped he had really listened. You hope he knew what you actually meant. You hoped he wouldn’t get sidetracked as he often tended to do and that he would really show up. You didn’t know how you were going to do it, but you would help him like you always had. Together you would figure out what to do, what he needed to do, what he wanted to do, how to do it. Together.

This wasn’t something he should have to figure out on his own. He probably didn’t want to admit it, but you hope he knew he couldn’t, and shouldn’t, and didn’t have to. You hoped Llewyn would let you.

That tickle, that tentacle in the back of your brain, took firm hold. You knew he would come back, but you prayed he would come home.

That he had listened. That he knew. That he--

Your head snapped up at the sound of a knock on the door. You carefully set the wine glass down and slowly walked yourself, quilt and all, over to answer it.

And once you opened it, saw the man standing before you, exhausted and disheveled but...grateful, maybe even hopeful, you wrapped it around both of you and pulled Llewyn in.

~end~

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justasparkwritings · 3 years

Text

Troll In Love: Part 1

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Exes to Lovers, Non-Idol AU

Rating: PG-17

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: What happens when your work nemesis and your ultimate troll team up to flip your world upside down?

Note: This piece is for the #thebtswritersclub fic exchange! Look out for Part 2 later this week.

This fic is dedicated to, written for the incomparable @xjoonchildx, who I have been lucky enough to be paired with. A major fan, this was an intimidating endeavor, and I’m kind of in love with what I’ve created for her. And if she hates it .... it’s trash okay? jk... kind of.

Banner by me.

Monday: Pitch Meeting

“Everyone has an inherent archnemesis,” Claire began her presentation, eyes peering across the conference room, attempting to make thoughtful eye contact with her peers.

Finally, a staff writer, this pitch marked her first foray into feature writing. It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried, in her three years at the company as a freelance writer, it wasn’t that she didn’t draft proposals, complete preliminary research, no, she absolutely did. But there was always someone in front of her, someone who always came around the corner, nicking first place with seconds to spare. Claire hated you from the moment you arrived, bright eyed and excited, a recent college graduate gunning for a position at the magazine. While it took her years to pitch a cover story feature, years to move from an assistant to full-time staff writer, you had done so in a handful of years.

Today, Claire decided, that would change. She had prepped and planned for weeks, laid in wait for Marissa to give her the go ahead to pitch her idea to the team. Adjusting her Dior, she shifted from heel to heel before speaking again.

“We all have that one person who no matter what we post, they find a way to demean it, turn it negative, make it about something completely unrelated. Whether that’s politics, or religion, or sex, there is that one troll we can’t help but root against. My proposal is to use a few members of staff to find their internet trolls, to engage with them over a period of time, and if they’re willing, interview them, both separately and together. I want to discover what it is that makes them keep commenting, why they always seem to gravitate towards certain posts, who their audience is and how it relates to our greater understandings of our enemies.” Claire sighed, the heavy lifting of her presentation just beginning.

“I like it, who do you want to use?” Marissa asked.

“Someone from each of our most high-profile teams, or the people in our office that have the largest social media followings. For a few that overlaps,”

“Who are those people?”

“Y/N, Jaxson, Hoseok, Emma and Bridgette,” Claire explained. “They have an average Instagram following of ten thousand, and on Twitter it’s twelve thousand.”

“What do you post that gets you so many followers?” Gillian questioned.

“My ass,” Jaxson laughed. “But really, it’s Drag Race content,”

“Good, you have a list. I need written permission from each of you to interview you and your top internet harassers.”

“I’d like to request that my name be off the list,” You asked, hand still raised.

Hoseok asked, knowing the answer deep in his bones. “Why?”

“I just, I don’t think it’d be a –

“Nonsense, you have a large following, I’m sure there’s someone who pisses you off regularly,” Marissa interrupted.

“Yes, there is! What’s his name? Jimin?” Claire pretended to scan her page, her cursory glance perfunctory instead of practical.

You heard the gasp leave Hoseok’s mouth before you registered what was happening.

“Fuck you!” You snapped. “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate, but the sentiment remains.”

“It was, but it also sealed your fate.” Marissa stood. “Start assembling your team and listen to Claire, I’m sure she has a list of things she needs from you.”

“I do!” Claire chimed.

“Great, get me the contracts from legal and get it to each of the people you’ve listed before 5PM today, I want signed consent before you leave this building.”

“What if I don’t want to?” You asked, your final plea.

“You owe her for the debacle with your last interview,” Marissa reminded you.

“It’s not my fault they were drunk both times! I got the article done and out. It was one of our biggest issues in the last year and was followed up by two other feature pieces by me that beat that record,” You countered, your success an unnecessary brag in a room full of people who feared and admired your work.

“I don’t care, Y/N, handle it,” Marissa sauntered out, her assistants following close behind.

Slouching in your chair, your eyes landed on Claire, glaring daggers into her perfectly straight midnight bob. She was everything you hated, a brown noser, a narcissist, a career driven monster who had been biting at your heels since you arrived. She was jealous, blinded by some lofty goal that she’d be an editor or editor in chief before 28, a feat rare in fashion, unless you were Elaine Welterwroth or Margaret Zhang, of course. They had become editors and editors in chief by ages 29 and 27 respectively. Though Zhang had begun her career blogging at 16, a fact that only infuriated Claire who was too busy popping pimples and trying to lose her virginity to her junior varsity boyfriend.

Claire could spend days listing everything she hated about you. She hated your easy interactions with coworkers, the ability to have the entire room stop and listen when you spoke, the craft of your written work and relationships maintained with subjects years after interviewing them. She hated how you left work with Hoseok on your arm or went to drinks with the assistants and interns. How you achieved so many bylines, becoming an editor in your own right without so much as breaking a sweat, while she was scraping the barrel to be noticed. You seemingly had everything Claire wanted, and Claire was sick of it.

Monday: Your Office

“Thank you, for your participation,” Claire said, sitting across from you in your office.

“You aren’t welcome, I’m actually rather unimpressed with your ability to ambush not only me but the other people you’ve trapped into doing your article,” You crossed your legs, adjusting the waist band of your trousers and continued to scowl at her. Claire had only heard of your less than cheerful personality, though it remained largely rumored, she had never had it confirmed or dared to see it in person.

“How, charming,” She rolled her eyes.

“Look, you don’t want to be talking to me, I don’t want to be talking to you. Just tell me what you want so I can send you on your way.”

Claire watched as you reached across your desk to grab your black and white planner, flipping open to the weeks page and holding your pen at the ready. The inside, covered in stickers and hand lettered phrases, fit the persona Claire so desperately wanted to mimic.

“I need you to read and sign this,” Claire slid the agreement across your glass desk. “Then, I need you to identify the username of your troll, and I need to borrow an intern from your team.”

“You can’t have one,”

“Marissa said I could have whatever I needed, and I need an intern to comb through your tweets.”

“I can save you the trouble, I rarely tweet, when I do, it’s addressing the same ass hat,” You explained.

“Well, I need their handle,”

“Fine,”

“And the intern,” Claire was firm.

You rolled your eyes, before pressing the intercom. “Hey Alexis, can you send Erin to me?”

“Sure thing,” Alexis replied.

“Thank you,”

Claire rolled her eyes.

“Jealous?” You questioned.

“Read the contract, sign it and send it back to me along with answering the Form that’s in your inbox,” Claire directed.

“Great,”

“I’ll be back on Friday to go over your tweets and exchanges before we decide on a tactic to reach out to them and ask them to come in for an interview,” Claire explained. It didn’t annoy you that she was prepared, but it did piss you off a little to know how much she had thought this through. Maybe you should give her a chance, professionally, not socially, Claire would remain a bottom feeder.

“Who says they’re in the city?” You questioned.

“If not, we’ll Zoom with them, okay?”

“Excuse me, you wanted to see me?” Erin peered through the door; wavy bangs parted slightly to expose her forehead and freckled cheeks.

“Yes, your projects are on hold. Claire here needs your help with her feature article, and as my intern, you are to report to her for the remainder of the project,” You explained.

Erin’s eyes widened, never had she been reassigned to a special project, let alone with Claire who was notorious for running interns and assistants into the ground. “Who will take over my work?”

“Can you make a list of where you’re at and send it to me? I will meet with the team tomorrow to talk about where we need to fill in the gaps,”

“Okay,”

“Claire, this is Erin, if you are a bitch to her, I will ensure you don’t ever write a feature piece or move past copy editor here or anywhere,”

“I don’t know where you get off thinking you can speak to me like –

“I am your superior, and you will respect my intern or face the consequences,”

“Fine,” Claire turned and left, leaving Erin wondering what on earth she had been roped into.

Tuesday: Happy Hour

“You gave the real handle?” Hoseok asked over drinks after work, a little happy hour to celebrate leaving the office before 7PM.

“What was I going to do? She could easily look at my Twitter and Instagram and find out, why lie?”

“What happened to preservation?” Hoseok mocked.

“Either I give in and get Claire off my back, or I get called to Marissa’s and have consequences, like I’m a fucking child.”

Hoseok eyed you suspiciously. “Did you give her his name?”

“You saw in that meeting, she already knows. I blame you,”

“Me?”

“Yes you, always talking about dance classes with Jimin, the good old days of photographing him and styling him in college. He abandoned me to go to school with you, and you’ve taken it all in stride.” You explained. It wasn’t a new story, a new plea, a new exploration of your tempestuous non-relationship with Jimin. It was sad, really, listening to you express the hurt you’ve never let go of.

“He didn’t abandon you to come to school with me,” Hoseok laughed.

“Potato, Tomato,”

“You should talk-

“Nope, you made your once monthly ‘you should talk to Jimin’ comment a week ago over margheritas, you don’t get another for ten more days,” You scolded.

“Fine, fine.”

“I don’t even know where he is,” You muttered, pink liquid of your Paloma slipping down your throat.

“That’s a lie,”

“Can you stop calling me out and let me hate him?” You hadn’t meant to snap, but the constant chatter revolving around Jimin was too much to handle, it was too much in two days, too much in the years since you last saw him. Park Jimin was, and has remained, too much.

“Fine,” Hoseok resigned. “Have you looked at your tweets lately?”

“No, I refuse to go back and read whatever horrors I wrote in 2019,”

“You should,” He suggested.

“I guarantee Claire will force me to read them. Probably aloud at some last-minute staff meeting she puts together on Friday to fucking fillet me,” You rolled your eyes again, the last dregs of grapefruit clumping together as they slid down the side of your glass.

“Maybe if you weren’t so,” He starts.

“Bitchy?”

“Your words, then she would like you,”

“She’s hated me since I got there, I’ve tried being nice. I’ve tried being cordial. Claire and I will never mix,” You explained.

“He’s gone blonde you know,” Hoseok’s eyes have flittered past you, glancing down the street at the setting sun, glad he brought his latest Gucci jacket to keep him warm in the early spring evening.

“Didn’t you hit your moratorium on how long you can talk about Jimin in a conversation?”

“You said his name!” Hoseok argued.

“He isn’t Trump, Hoseok. I can say his name, sometimes.”

Hoseok let the moment simmer, cooling gently before turning it up to a raucous boil. “I’m having a kick back next Wednesday, will you come?”

“If he’s not there,” You answered.

“I can’t promise that,”

“Then I can’t promise either,” Chewing the ice from your glass, you let your mind wander to the possibilities of what might happen should you show up to Hoseok’s party and are greeted by Jimin. Blonde Jimin. Jimin with the sparkling eyes and winning smile. Jimin who harasses you on the internet weekly, Jimin who you haven’t spoken to since you were 22, Jimin whom you hated with every fiber of your being.

Worst case scenario, you couldn’t avoid him and would be forced to speak words to him. Best case, you time it perfectly and he’s either just left or hasn’t arrived and you can doll out pleasantries before Irish-goodbying and never having to confront him.

“Y/N, please, you haven’t seen my new place yet and it’s finally furnished,” Hoseok pleaded.

“I’ll think about it,” You resigned.

“Great!”

“I fucking hate you and our friendship,” You scoffed, signaling the waiter to bring you the check. You should’ve ordered food, being buzzed and talking about Jimin was never a good idea.

“I know you do.” Hoseok winked before picking up the tab for you both.

“At least tell me you haven’t invited Seokjin,” You asked, slipping your coat over your shoulders.

“Well-

“You’re fucking with me, right?” You questioned. “You fucking invited both of my exes to a, I’m sorry, kick back? Hoseok, no.”

“I love you, and I’m sorry, Seokjin helped me find some great pieces for the place, and you know he’s friends with Namjoon and Jungkook,” He tried to explain.

“That doesn’t mean I want to stare at them over my tenth flute of champagne and my plate which will be piled high with cheese and crackers and pieces of salami.”

“You and Seokjin are fine though, you ended-

“Don’t say amicably,” You cut him off.

“Well, close to it. Please,” He begged. Begging never looked good on Hoseok.

Staring into his dark irises, a shade mimicking your own, you couldn’t hold the anger brewing. Being around Seokjin was always a better alternative than Jimin. Though the pity he often felt towards you, at your angered state which has never really subsided, was embarrassing. “I’ll think about it.”

“I love you,” Hoseok pulled you into a hug.

“Yeah, yeah, then why do you keep doing this to me?”

“Because I love you,”

“Tell Taehyung to call me,” You said, waving to him before stepping into the waiting Lyft you’d called at the bar.

“I will, can’t make any promises,” Hoseok winked before turning towards the subway, where he’d pull out his head phones and scan through the photos he’d taken throughout the day, waiting to get home to Taehyung to analyze, edit and critique them.

Thursday: Claire’s Makeshift Office

“Are you ready?” Claire asked, sifting through the papers on her desk.

“You had me come to your office, after you scheduled a meeting to ask if I’m ready? Yes Claire, I’m fucking ready,” You snapped.

“Erin,” Claire gestured towards your intern who tried to hold her eye roll.

“So, I combed through your tweets, sifting through your interactions with Mochimin, which is a very creative username,” Erin began.

“Yeah, his name and nickname combined,” You rolled your eyes.

“And we read through them all, well mostly me… and I have to ask, are you sure these are your tweets?” Erin questioned.

“Yes, and what should be his responses,” You answered reaching forward to grab the printed copies waiting for you. You scanned over the interactions, the subtweets, the blatant tags, the retweets and comments not just by Jimin, but a few of your friends too.

“Why have you been telling us he’s the troll?” Erin asked.

Her question caught you off guard, eyes wide, shock echoing in your bones.

“What the fuck? What do you mean? Look at how he fucking responded!”

“Y/N, you’re the troll!” Erin laughed. “It’s you, not him,”

“I am not! This is a fucking joke! It’s not April Fools yet, way to put the cart before the horse!” Your voice radiated throughout the small conference room.

Claire, not having an office of her own, had requested it to conduct most of her teams work. It was your least favorite of the conference rooms, colder both in décor and temperature than the others, it was situated on the corner leading to the kitchen. Glass on two walls, it was the definition of exposed. Everyone could see your outburst. Everyone could watch you fall to pieces. You guessed Claire had planned it this way, to demonstrate how focused her team was, how dedicated to the project they were, to show everyone her value as a staff writer instead of a freelancer. You also assumed she did this to ensure that whatever break down you were beginning to have, would have at least ten witnesses, ten people to side with her that your behavior was irresponsible and reckless.

“Oh please, get over yourself,” Claire chuckled. The light in her eyes proved your assumptions, she was enjoying this. “Do you see how you interact with him?”

“What do you mean how I interact with him? He started this!” You lowered your volume, side glances from colleagues passing by alerting you to the unprofessional decibels you’d began reaching.

“In almost every interaction, you bait him, hook line and sinker. It’s you, Y/N,” Erin explained.

“No!”

“Yes, this poor man, just living his life while you’re purposefully harassing him!” Claire feigned shock, eyes widening, mouth slightly open. It was taking everything in you not to resort to physical violence.

“I would never,” You glowered.

“You have! For years, it’s always you,” Erin said again.

“I, no, that’s impossible. He started it!”

“Admitting is the first step,” Claire’s placid smile was demanding to be smacked off.

“Fuck you! This is ridiculous!”

“July 10, 2020: Thinking of one man in particular, hoping the bleach in his locks burns in the summer heat.Followed by his comment: thinking of one woman in particular, hoping she knows I wear a hat and use purple shampoo.” Erin read.

“I, I, no!”

“October 13: Nothing makes me happier than not being invited to a birthday bash with all my friends. He responded: All you have to do is ask. On your birthday, he tweeted: Happy B-Day to the girl who … oh never mind she hates me. You responded: nobody asked for your half-hearted bullshit, next time I hope you choke on it.”

“He started it!”

“Why are you so awful to him?” Erin wanted to know.

“I am not, he began harassing me first,” You tried to argue.

“Does Hoseok know?” Claire chided.

“Know what?”

“About your vendetta,”

“It’s not a vendetta!”

“Then explain why you tweet or subtweet him at least twice a week, and then when he responds, tweet him again! You don’t even tag him, just vaguely mention discernable parts of his personality or appearance,” Erin explained.

“I do not! How do you know what he looks like?” You tried to counter.

“His profile picture, and a certain friend of yours doesn’t mind sharing-

“You asked Jungkook? Or was it Taehyung? Or I’m sorry, both?” Your eyes were wide, breathing labored, anger boiling to inhumane levels.

“Well, if we asked Hoseok you would’ve kno-

“You called or texted or DM’ed Jungkook and Taehyung, and asked about Jimin?”

“Yes,” Erin bowed her head, guilt written into the freckles her blush tried so desperately to hide.

“I cannot believe you, Erin,” You spat.

“I’m sorry Claire wanted me to,”

You turned your gaze to Claire, who had begun to cower in her seat.

“You did the one thing, the absolute one thing that you knew, you fucking knew, would set me off. You did this on purpose, you fucking bottom feeder, you fucking dillweed you crossed the fucking line, Claire,” You spat. Your volume had lowered into a low growl, far more deadly and intimidating than any yelling you had done.

“We have the proof, Y/N, you can’t deny it, you attack Jimin regularly,” Claire unskillfully attempted to move the conversation away from Jungkook and Taehyung. Like you would balk at her intrusion.

“You don’t get to violate my personal life, to violate the lives of the people I care deeply about, to expose sources and put them in danger should this article go south, poking and prodding into the lives of people who are dealing with their own bullshit to push your own fucking agenda, Claire,” You were seething, Te Fiti in Moana, Mrs. Weasley against Bellatrix, Kim Kardashian against the ocean searching for her diamond. Your wrath knows no bounds, and Claire had finally crossed the line into territory she could never come back from.

“It’s for the job, nothing personal.” Claire shrugged. You could see it in her eyes, she wanted blood and was elated to be getting it.

“This is entirely personal.”

“Well, you can ask Jimin about it when we interview him,” She smiled, lips upturning revealing her veneers, red lipstick perfectly matte and shaped against her thin flesh.

“No, absolutely not,” You shook your head.

“Yes, that’s part of the deal you agreed to,”

“I take it back. I revoke my consent!”

“It’s non-negotiable,” Marissa said. She had sauntered in during your berating, watching as you tried and failed to continue believing that you weren’t the troll. “You have agreed to this, and you will sit through the interview and cordially answer Claire’s questions.”

“Marissa, this is crossing a line,” You stated.

“You have to be held accountable,” Claire said.

“Fuck you, Claire. Believe it or not, there are somethings that are beyond your understanding and a few that are not appropriate for work,” You continued to scold her.

“Y/N, why are you being so hostile?” Claire was mocking you, with Marissa by her side, she was invincible.

“You picked me on purpose. What have you been working with Hoseok? Is this some larger plan to get me to talk to Jimin? I don’t want to talk with Jimin or talk to Jimin, isn’t it bad enough he’s being brought into my work? Oh and let’s not forget you using Erin and Hoseok to gain access to Jungkook and Taehyung, who are beyond off limits.” You listed each of her offenses, careful to leave out indiscretions that occurred before this project of hers began.

“You agreed to-

“No, I was forced to do this by you, Marissa,” You began.

It wasn’t hard to glower at Marissa, one of the most decorated editors in chief, beloved by Condé Nast, best friend of Anna Wintour… Everyone aspired to be her, but in the last year, through your promotion and growing turbulence within the magazine, her leadership had begun to falter. Her steady hand, guiding each staff writer and editor towards success and elevating everyone’s work, was crumbling at an alarming pace. Yet, no one knew why or if anything was being done to rectify the damage her wake was leaving.

“I was coerced into this under some pretense that I owe Claire something for a so called fuck up that resulted in the biggest boon in our magazines readership in the last year, which was followed up by not one but two feature bylines and my promotion. I have done more than enough at this company, in this industry, to sit here and be forced to engage with a man who destroyed my world. I will not speak with him, or to him or listen to him. I will not, and if you force me, I will get legal involved. Should this bullshit continue, you can expect my letter of resignation next week.”

Standing and shoving your chair in, you turned on the heels of your Oxfords and marched straight to your office. Closing your laptop and shoving your planner into your tote, you grabbed your phone.

“Where are you going?” Hoseok asked. He moved in time with you, following down the many corridors of your office and towards the elevators.

As you stepped in, you pressed lobby and waited for the doors to be closed before turning to him.

“Did you tell Erin she could contact Jungkook and Taehyung?” You asked.

“She did what?” Hoseok yelled, soundwaves bounding off the metal and plastic of the elevator, reverberating in your ears.

“Did you?”

“No, I can’t believe she, are you serious?” Hoseok couldn’t lie, a fundamental flaw in his design made it impossible for him to tell the smallest fib.

“Did you work with Erin and Claire to get me involved in this feature? To get me to talk to Jimin?” You didn’t mince your words or pad your language to make him feel less attacked. You needed the answer, and you needed it now.

“No, I didn’t know Claire was doing this until she pitched it. You think I would-

“Hoseok, they called Jungkook and Taehyung. They want Jimin to come in to be interviewed, they won’t stop until I-

“Until you what?”

“Marissa has always supported me, championed me. But Claire has her number, she has her locked and loaded, aiming for me and I don’t know why,” You confided.

“She has been slipping lately,” He agreed. “There’s only one way to stop this,”

Together you stepped out of the elevator, moving past the turnstiles to the revolving door.

“Am I crazy?” You asked, the insecurity beginning to overtake your bravery.

“No, something weird is going on,”

You clarified, “No, I mean, am I crazy for… for doing this to Jimin?”

“I don’t know if you’re crazy, but you’ve definitely not been your best self,” Hoseok answered.

“He makes me so-

“You still love him,” Hoseok interrupted.

“I-

“Go talk to him,” Hoseok encouraged. “Call me after, we can get drinks and wallow or pick out an outfit for your hot date.”

“What if he-

“Just, talk to him, okay?” Hoseok requested.

“Okay,”

“I’ll check in with Jungkookie and Taehyungie,” He assured.

“Thank you,”

“I’ll also scope out open positions, we can’t stay here,”

“I love you, Hobi,” You confided, a statement that flowed so easily past your lips, you didn’t have to think or parse through the emotions that went along with it. You’ve always loved him, always will.

“I love you too, Y/N,” Hoseok draped his arm around your shoulders before placing a kiss to your forehead, a gentle embrace, a squeeze of confidence, a gesture of love. He moved swiftly from you back into the building, and as you watched him walk away, you took a deep breath.

Taking your phone out of your pocket, you dialed a number you had tried to forget.

“To what do I owe this unexpected delight of a call?” He asked. His voice was the same, chipper and cunning in the same breath.

“I need to speak with you, ASAP,” You told him.

“Okay, I’m working from home today, come over whenever,” He invited you without hesitation.

“You still live at the same place?”

“No, moved up. I’ll send you the address,”

“You know who this is?” You asked, uncertainty back in your bones.

“What, Y/N, you thought I deleted your number?” Jimin laughed, one of only a few sounds that shot right to your knees, making any posture unstable in the docile sounds of his joy.

“I, I don’t know, I guess. Look I’m going to hail a cab, I’ll be there in 20,”

“I look forward to it, just tell the doorman you’re here for me and he’ll let you up,” Jimin said.

“Okay, see you soon, I guess,”

“I can’t wait,” Jimin was smiling, you couldn’t see it, but the lilt in his voice was all the assurance you needed. Bracing yourself for the impact of him, of his voice, of his laugh, of the way he looked at you, you hailed one of the last remaining cabs in the city and prayed for courage.

Next: Troll in Luv Pt. 2

103 notes · View notes

elsanna-shenanigans · 2 years

Text

December Contest Submission #19: The Years to Come

Words: ca. 3,000 Setting: modern AU Lemon: lime Content: fluffy as fuck

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Present Day - (Elsa is 28, Anna is 25)

“I now pronounce you wife and wife. The brides may now kiss!”

As cheers and clapping erupt from their gathered friends and family, Elsa places one arm securely behind Anna’s shoulders, the other hand at Anna’s hip, and dips her in a perfect wedding photo kiss, feeling like a million bucks when she nails it without dropping her. What follows next are a thousand more kisses peppered across Anna’s lips and cheeks and neck and vice versa, and the most magical I love you’s she’s ever given or received. When she finally pauses to catch her breath, Anna pulls her close and whispers in her ear, “Merry Christmas, Elsa. This is the best present yet.”

A Christmas wedding is always a hard thing to pull off, but with the way their romance had unfolded, it was the only choice that made sense. And it helped that the whole extended family would have been together for the holidays anyway, wedding or no wedding.

“Merry Christmas, Anna,” Elsa returns, basking for a moment in Anna’s scent and the adoration of the all the gathered onlookers. “It’ll be hard to top this next year, for sure,” she continues, glad for the moment that Anna can’t see the grin on her face as it would spoil the surprise for later. “C'mon, let’s go mingle with the folks.”

She takes Anna by the hand and together they begin the rest of their lives, which in this case means a whole lot of gracefully accepting congratulations from all their wedding guests while the band sets up nearby. They’d elected to have the reception immediately following the ceremony, in the same location; Elsa’s aunt and uncle had graciously agreed to host the wedding festivities in their fancy backyard garden. The result is an atmosphere is full of love and joy, and both women are quickly swept up in all the pleasantries and rituals that follow: a first dance is had, a cake is cut, a bouquet is tossed, and so on. It’s the happiest night of Elsa’s life, and she sees that joy reflected in Anna’s eyes whenever she looks at her.

Later, when the band is packing up and they finally have a quiet moment alone together for the first time in the last twenty-four hours, Elsa fishes around in her purse for the folded up letter she’d stashed there earlier, and gives it to Anna. “We got this in the mail this morning.”

Anna gives her a questioning look as she takes the letter and unfolds it, scanning over the text with curious eyes.

“The agency said it will probably take about twelve months to get through the whole process,” Elsa comments, when Anna is nearly done reading.

A moment later Anna is hugging her so hard it hurts. “Elsa, this is amazing! I never thought we’d actually get approved because, well, you know. Twelve months… that means this time next year?”

“Merry Christmas, again. Surprise!”

Anna eases up on the hug enough to press a hot kiss against Elsa’s cheek, earning an involuntary blush in response. “We’re actually doing this, aren’t we? We’re going to start a family.”

When Elsa simply raises an eyebrow, Anna corrects herself: “Oh, you know what I mean, Els. Our own family.”

And because Anna’s just so cute when she’s a little annoyed, Elsa leans in and gives her a peck on the lips to let her know she’s loved, for the millionth time.

“Yeah, Anna. We are.”

-🕚-🕙-🕘-

Three Years Earlier - (Elsa is 25, Anna is 22)

“Well, that went about as well as I expected,” Anna says as she plops down at the foot of the stairs, shoulders slumped.

“It could have gone worse,” Elsa replies as she sits down next to her. “Neither of us got disowned, right? I mean, I didn’t think they would—they love both of us a lot, regardless of everything. They’ll come around eventually, it’ll just take some getting to used to.”

The two young women had retreated from the living room when the discussion with their parents about the nature of their relationship had evolved into an increasingly heated argument between the two sets of parents, and their raised voices continue to echo throughout the house, even now.

“Whose bright idea was it to tell them about us again?” Anna bemoans, leaning sideways into Elsa’s shoulder.

“Yours, of course.” Elsa snakes her left hand behind Anna and rubs reassuring circles on her back. “And you were right, we had to tell them sooner or later. Keeping everything in the dark wasn’t fair to anybody.”

“I know. Ugh.” Anna sits up a little bit so she can face Elsa. “I just wish they didn’t make it seem so complicated. Being in love with you has never been complicated for me.”

“Really, never? Not even when you were first, you know, figuring it out?”

Anna shakes her head. “Grass is green, the sky is blue, Anna loves Elsa.”

She leans in for a kiss and Elsa hesitates for just a moment, only because until now every kiss they’ve shared in this house has been a closely guarded secret. But that’s over—now everyone knows, whether they like or not—and so Elsa tangles her free hand in Anna’s hair and pulls her close, puts her heart and soul into the kiss that she might dispel any lingering fears about the earlier discussion. And when they both come up for air again, the look on Anna’s face is nothing short of mesmerized, her lips swollen with desire.

But that will have to wait.

“Come upstairs, I’ve got a present for you that I forgot to put under the tree this morning.” Elsa pops up and extends her hand to Anna to help her do the same.

Anna givers her a rather skeptical look in turn, and Elsa really hopes that shrewd little mind of hers hasn’t already deduced this light bit of deception on Elsa’s part, but she takes the offered hand and follows her up the stairs to Anna’s bedroom, content at least to play along… until they get just about to the doorway, at which point she tugs on Elsa’s hand to spin her around, and then presses her up against the door frame, her breath suddenly hot against Elsa’s skin.

“You’re up to something,” Anna accuses, eyes squinting in suspicion.

“Oh I’m definitely up to something,” Elsa admits with a smirk. “Nothing nefarious though,” she adds, then reaches behind herself for the door knob and lets them both into the room, where a small silver gift box tied up with blue ribbon is waiting on the nearby bed. “Go on, open it.”

“Elsa, if you…” Anna’s voice trails off, suspicion giving way to anticipation. She picks the present up from the bed and begins unwrapping it.

“I’ve wanted to give this to you for ages, actually,” Elsa elaborates, as Anna struggles briefly with undoing the ribbon. “But I felt like I had to wait until we could tell the whole world about it.”

There’s an audible gasp when Anna finally opens the outer box and retrieves the smaller black jewelry box within. Elsa takes that as her cue and steps in close, gingerly takes the box from Anna’s hands, and then drops to one knee. Everything has gone exactly according to plan and yet her voice still cracks as she asks the question:

“Anna, will you marry me?”

Even before Anna says yes (which she practically shouts), the look in her eyes is enough to tell Elsa that every moment up until now—every kiss, every fight, every tear—has been worth it.

“YES!” Anna actually manages to knock the ring box out of Elsa’s hands with the force of the hug that follows, and the force of the subsequent kissing knocks Elsa onto her back. Soon Anna is right above her, fully plastering her face with kisses and the occasional saltwater tear that drips from her cheeks.

“Sorry I couldn’t figure out how to do it somewhere more romantic,” Elsa laments in a break between kisses.

“Oh who cares about that!” Anna retorts. “I love you. I love you so much.” At which point she grabs around for the ring box and actually takes it out and puts it on. It’s a simple silver ring band set with a small sapphire. Nothing too ostentatious. And then, despite the tears still streaming from her eyes, that look is back on her face. “So… how much longer do you think the parents will keep arguing for?”

Elsa gulps. “I don’t know, could be a while?”

“At least fifteen minutes?”

“Probably? Almost certainly.”

“We’ve been quicker.”

Elsa’s not about to say no when Anna’s looking at her like that.

Anna reaches out with her right hand and slams the door shut.

So much for the part about not fucking her cousin in her childhood bedroom.

-🕗-🕖-🕕-

Three Years Earlier - (Elsa is 22, Anna is 19)

There’s a half-naked girl in Elsa’s bed when she wakes up on Christmas morning. She also has a pounding hangover headache and a bunch of questions about what did or did not happen the previous night. It’s not like her to drink so much as to forget things, but she hadn’t seen Anna in months and she has a vague memory of her roommates chanting shots! shots! shots! at some point, and how she actually got to her bed is quite fuzzy. So she breathes a huge sigh of relief when she manages to open her eyes long enough to see clearly and the galaxy of freckles on the other girl’s neck and shoulders confirms she hasn’t made an egregious mistake of some kind. That thought makes Elsa chuckle. Thank god I didn’t sleep with a girl who isn’t my cousin.

The galaxy beckons and Elsa reaches out to run her fingers in light caresses over Anna’s precious beautiful skin. Any day she gets to experience this is a gift as far as she’s concerned, and so she wastes no opportunity to treasure it. She can tell when Anna wakes up by the shift in the way her chest rises and falls under the sheets. After a few more tender touches, Anna rolls over until she’s facing her on the bed, looking far less hungover than Elsa feels.

“Morning, Els,” she says with a grin. “Your friends sure know how to celebrate, huh?”

“Haven’t left our college ways behind us just yet,” Elsa confirms. There’s a stretch of silence before she finally manages to broach the most important question on her mind. “Last night, did we…?” She makes a hand gesture in the space between them, unable to say it out loud.

Anna actually scoffs. “As if I’d let our first time be a drunken hookup!”

“Oh good. I mean, I’d very much like to remember it.”

It’s not like they’ve been waiting for any particular reason. It had just never felt right when they’d been visiting either of their parents’ houses over the holidays. This break, with both sets of parents off on some cruise in the Caribbean, has been the first real opportunity for them to be together in a house that wasn’t directly tied to their shared childhood. And Elsa has definitely been getting her hopes up.

“How much do you remember, exactly?” Anna asks with a smirk.

“Um, I remember Cindy and Jasmine shouting for us all to do shots? It gets hazy after that…”

“So you don’t remember doing the body shot off my stomach for the second round, huh?”

“I did not!” Elsa exclaims with a groan.

“Totally did. It was pretty hot, I’ve gotta be honest.” Then Anna makes a face like she’s just connected two very important dots in a detective case. “Then I guess you definitely don’t remember what you said to them after?”

“What? What did I say?”

“Well, uh, you maybe announced that I’m your favorite cousin in the world, right before planting a big long wet one on my lips.”

Elsa flails over on to her back and covers her face with her hands. “Oh god, I’m going to have to move out, aren’t I? Fuck my life.”

“Hey, relax! They were totally chill about it!” Anna playfully tugs Elsa’s hands away from her face. “I mean it, it’s fine. We’re fine, Elsa.”

Elsa peeks her eyes out between half open lids. “Really? Are you sure they didn’t call me a perverted freak or something?” This part of the conversation is an echo of ones they’ve had several times since things starting getting serious. She’s not exactly expecting Anna to say that, yes, her friends think she’s a horrible monster now, but she can’t help but worry.

Anna takes one of Elsa’s hands in her own and clasps it tightly to her chest. “I love you, Elsa. There’s nothing illegal about you and me being together. In this state, at least. And it’s not like you can accidentally knock me up or something, so what’s there for anybody to be upset about?”

That topic tugs a different string in Elsa’s heart and her next words tumble out of her mouth before she can stop them: “What if I wanted to?”

Elsa feels a bit like she’s drowning in the silence that follows, and Anna’s expression is unreadable at first. She knows what her heart wants, but it’s been hard to talk about what their future relationship might look like, when their present relationship has been shrouded in so much secrecy.

“I think,” Anna begins, after taking her sweet time to figure out what to say. “I think maybe you’re getting a few steps ahead of yourself? First things first, am I right?” With that last part Anna runs the tips of her fingers down the curve of Elsa’s jawline, and the tone of her voice is a clear invitation.

“You’re right,” Elsa says, once she’s gathered up her confidence again. “I love you, Anna. I do owe you a Christmas present, after all.”

When she next kisses Anna, her lips don’t leave Anna’s body alone for the next forty-five minutes.

And she spends the rest of the day being teased by her roommates for dating such a squealer.

-🕔-🕓-🕒-

Three Years Earlier - (Elsa is 19, Anna is 16)

It’s nearly three in the morning by the time Elsa’s taxi pulls up in front of her aunt and uncle’s house. What was supposed to be a semi-reasonable five hour travel itinerary had turned into twelve hours of delays and layovers and even more delays. But it was over now and after her first short stretch of being away at university she was quite looking forward to spending some time with her extended family. And maybe one particular family member more than the others.

Elsa breathes a sigh of relief when she finds the house key under the empty terracotta pot just where her aunt’s email said it would be. She opens the front door as quietly as she can and then drags her luggage up the two half steps into the house, slightly regretting just how many clothes she’d packed at the last minute. But then, finally, she’s inside where it’s warm and quiet, what with everyone in the house being asleep at this hour.

Or so she thinks, until the telltale scent of hot chocolate leads her to the kitchen where she finds Anna, in her pajamas, standing by the center island with a mug in her hands and another one in front of her on the counter.

“Hey, Anna, what are you still doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep until I knew you were home safe.” The crackle in Anna’s voice betrays how tired she really is.

“I texted you when I landed,” Elsa replies as she takes her coat off and drapes it over one of the kitchen table chairs.

“You could have got in a car accident on the way here!”

“Seems unlikely?”

“Okay then maybe I just wanted to see your face,” Anna admits with light exasperation. “Come here and drink the hot chocolate I made you.”

Elsa makes her way around the island to grab the second mug and takes a sip, surprised to find that it’s the perfect temperature. “How did you time it just right?”

“Oh I’ve thrown it in the microwave six or seven times now,” the younger girl says nonchalantly. “I thought you’d be here like an hour ago.”

There’s a bright smile on Anna’s face, and Elsa can’t help but reflect it right back. All the stress from her horrible day of traveling is gone, and she’s just, happy.

“You know, it’s technically Christmas day,” Anna says when the volume of hot chocolate in their mugs has run low. “You could give me an early present. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Oh,” Elsa says, because she knows where this is going. “And what kind of present might my favorite cousin want at this time of night?”

Before Anna can get a word out in response, Elsa darts forward and presses her lips to Anna’s mouth. She catches Anna with her lips just slightly parted, and the press of the kiss draws an oomph sound as it forces out the breath of whatever words Anna was going to say. Elsa holds the kiss for just long enough that it can’t be construed as innocent. When she sees the stunned look on Anna’s face after she pulls back, there’s another long moment where she wonders if maybe she’s finally crossed a line in this weird game they’ve been playing for the past few years. That maybe what she’s been interpreting as flirtation has just been Anna’s particular kind of playfulness, or maybe even just being a brat. A weird, flirty brat.

She’s busy contemplating how she’s ever going to show her face at family gatherings again when Anna places her hands on Elsa’s hips and kisses her back. It’s a short kiss, but the way Anna tugs Elsa’s bottom lip between her teeth at the end removes any lingering doubt Elsa might have held about the nature of her affections.

“You took the words right out of my mouth,” Anna whispers with her lips mere inches away, and Elsa desperately wants to kiss her again but then Anna is dragging her out of the kitchen and up to the bedrooms on the second floor. “Come on, let’s get you to bed. You must be exhausted.”

Elsa opens her mouth to protest but a yawn escapes instead. “Okay, fine,” she admits.

Anna looks back at her and winks. “Don’t worry, I can sneak you some more presents in the morning.”

Part of Elsa wonders what she’s just gotten herself into, and the other part of her can’t wait to find out.

-🕑-🕐-🕛-

Three Years Earlier - (Elsa is 16, Anna is 13)

When Elsa gets tired of listening to the grown-ups talking about boring grown-up things, she makes a polite excuse and then wanders away from the continuing Christmas festivities in the living room in search of the one person she can usually talk to at these big family gatherings. She finds Anna sitting halfway up the stairs to the second floor, desperately trying to peel open one of the chocolate coins they’d received in their stockings.

“Oh, hey Elsa. Can you help me with this thing? I give up!”

Elsa makes her way up and takes a seat on the stairs as Anna scooches over and hands her the coin. It’s a tricky affair, but she manages to pry open the foil wrapping, and she presents the unwrapped coin back to Anna with a dramatic ta-da! The younger girl grins and takes a bite, and Elsa finds herself content just to be in her presence.

When the chocolate is all gone, Elsa asks: “So, Anna, did you get everything you wanted for Christmas?”

“Let’s see,” Anna says, as she makes a show of putting her fingers to her chin like she has to think really hard about her answer. “Oh, actually there’s one thing I didn’t get. But it’s not too late.”

“And what’s that?”

“A kiss from my favorite cousin!”

“I’m your only cousin, silly,” Elsa replies with a laugh. But Anna is being adorable as usual, so she obliges her by leaning over and planting a heartfelt kiss on the younger girl’s cheek.

It’s a perfectly innocent kiss, but the way they suddenly can’t look each other in the eyes will explain a lot about the years to come.

#elsanna #december 2021 contest #prompt: traditions #lime

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snowdice · 3 years

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Big Bang (Sort of) Editing Story [Day 66]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag proofread stories. I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29

It’s editing time for me because I have not edited in way too long. I am so behind on the Study Fic and this one. Oof. Also I should do some blog organization maybe.

Chapter 30

After lunch, Patton and Logan took Virgil out to the garden to walk around. They let Virgil lead them around wherever he wanted to go in the garden. A bunch more flowers had died since the last time they’d been out here, and Patton felt sad despite having never felt very sad about that sort of thing before. But, Virgil seemed to really like the flower he’d found last time, so Patton thought he was probably sad on the boy’s behalf.

Of course, Patton thought, perking up, eventually it would be spring, and Virgil could get to not only see some flowers but all of the flowers as they grew. Patton couldn’t wait to see him amongst the garden then.

Virgil took them wandering through the orchard for a while, but most of the trees had been stripped of their fruits and the leaves were beginning to fall off some. They ended up in the vegetable garden after a bit, and Virgil finally seemed to decide on a direction instead of just ambling about.

A few seconds after Patton noticed Virgil seemingly decide on a destination, Patton noticed Mr. Deknis kneeling on the ground a few feet away. Had… had Virgil been looking for him? Patton wondered. That was adorable.

Mr. Deknis looked up as they approached and smiled at them.

“Hello, Mr. Deknis,” Patton said as they came closer.

“Hello you three,” Mr. Deknis said. “Getting into trouble?”

“No,” Virgil said, shaking his head.

Mr. Deknis gave him a flash of a smile. “I know, I’m joking,” he said. “Especially since there isn’t much left in my gardens for certain princes to destroy with experiments.”

“Oh, okay,” Virgil said. He tilted his head. “What are you doing?”

“I’m getting the last of the acorn squash out,” Mr. Deknis replied. “It’s the last crop to get finished. Good thing too, it’s supposed to start snowing soon.”

Virgil looked down curiously at the dark green squash.

��Would you like to help me pick a couple?” Mr. Deknis asked.

“Sure,” Virgil said, sounding interested. Mr. Deknis patted the ground beside him, and Virgil knelt down to watch him.

“They’re not too difficult to harvest,” he said. “You just cut the fruit off the stem. You want to leave about a hand’s width of the stem left over which will help preserve moisture. The earlier harvests I left in the field to cure in the sun for a couple weeks, but the frost’ll ruin these, so we’ll take them inside the green house and let them sit in the sun for a bit there. We also want to keep the leaves. You’ll probably be eating those for dinner tonight since they have to be cooked up within about 24 hours after they’re picked. Patton’s mom makes a good side dish with them and she’ll be making some curry tomorrow, probably. Maybe some stew if there are some left over. Put the squash in this wheelbarrow and the leaves into this pile, okay?” Virgil nodded and Mr. Deknis handed him the extra pair of gloves and shears he carried with him in case one set broke. “These might be a bit big on you, but they should work for now.”

Mr. Deknis looked up at Patton and Logan. “Would the two of you like to help?” he asked. “I can get some more equipment.”

“I can help out if you want, but you don’t need to stop and get more equipment just for me,” Patton said.

“The same for me,” Logan said.

“Well, if you’d like to help still, you can sort the leave. Give your mother a head start.”

“Sure,” Patton said. He and Logan went to do that while Mr. Deknis and Virgil worked on cutting the squashes from the vine.

“What do you do during the winter?” Virgil asked curiously. “If this is your last crop?”

“Well, at the beginning, I mostly will be working on making sure things are stored correctly along with some of the kitchen staff. There’s some drying to do and some canning. After that’s done, I’ll spend some time organizing and planning. Then, before the spring comes, I’ll start preparing seedlings in the green house.”

“Seedlings?” he asked.

“I let seeds start to grow in the greenhouse that I replant once it gets warm enough.”

“Why don’t you just plant them where they’re going?”

“I do for some,” he said, “but giving some a head start is good for them.”

Patton watched as Virgil continued to ask questions about gardening while working on harvesting the squash. Mr. Deknis continued to answer them in a calm, soft tone that Patton didn’t think he’d ever heard from the often gruff man before.

Patton wasn’t surprised when, after finishing getting most of the squash off of the vine, Mr. Deknis asked if Virgil wanted to help him with canning some pears in a couple of days. Virgil immediately looked over at Logan and Patton as though asking permission.

“Say yes if you would like to Virgil,” Logan said.

“Yes,” Virgil said as soon as he was given permission. Mr. Deknis smiled at him softly and started loading the last of the squash into the wheelbarrow. Patton offered to run the squash leaves to the kitchen while Logan and Virgil helped Mr. Deknis take the actual squash to the green house.

He dropped the leaves off to a kitchen worker since Mama was busy and headed back out to the garden. By the time he returned, Logan was already back from the green house and sitting by one of the more decorative trees near the castle.

“He’s exploring,” Logan said, nodding at a large patch of bushes.

Patton chuckled. “I see.” He sat next to Logan. Every so often he’d hear the bushes rustle, but he couldn’t tell if it was actually Virgil or an animal.

“He’s adorable,” Patton commented, keeping an ear out.

Logan hummed.

“I’m glad we kept him.”

“He isn’t a pet, Patton.”

Patton rolled his eyes. “I know, but I’m still glad. I’m glad he’s making friends with Mr. Deknis. Once he knows how to read better, we should get him a book about gardening. He seems interested.”

Logan nodded. “Having a hobby would be good for him. Clearly he has a fascination with the garden.” He nodded to the blur of dark hair that could be seen through the bushes. It seemed Virgil had stopped his exploration and was now laying down in the bushes a few feet away.

“I’m going to go see what he’s doing,” Patton said. “I’ll be right back.”

Logan nodded and Patton got to his feet. The bushes were part of a small maze that was filled with flowers during the spring and summer months but were mostly just green and brown bushes for now. Despite the fact that Patton had been able to see him only a few feet away, it took him a while to wind through the path to where he was. When he finally turned the last corner and he came into view, Patton gasped softly.

“Ghost kitty!” he said, making sure to make his voice as quiet as possible.

Despite how soft he made his voice, two pairs of eyes shot over to him. The completely black kitten was perched on Virgil’s lap like she belonged there. Ghost Kitty hissed slightly, but Virgil reached forward to pet her head gently.

“This is Ghost Kitty?” Virgil asked. “I thought you said she was hard to pet.”

“She is,” Patton said. He lowered himself onto the ground from a few feet away from them. “How did you get her to come to you?”

Virgil glanced down at the cat and shrugged, scratching one of her ears. “She just came over to me and let me pet her.”

“Wow,” Patton said softly. He looked at the cat. “Could I pet you sweetie?” he asked, holding out a hand in her direction. She hissed again.

Virgil frowned down at her. “It’s Patton,” he said as though he expected her to understand his words and the exasperation in his tone.

He pet the cat’s head to soothe her and then reached over to grab Patton’s hand. He pulled and Patton carefully leaned a bit closer until his hand was within sniffing distance. Ghost Kitty sniffed his fingers contemplatively and then bumped her head against it. He barely restrained a squeal, knowing that probably wouldn’t be taken well.

He carefully turned his hand over so he could stroke the top of her head. He gently scratched her ear, not daring to go for under her chin yet since she didn’t know him well. “Hi,” he said softly. After a moment, she started to purr softly. Virgil reached over and scratched under her chin and she purred louder. “Oh, you’re a good girl,” Patton breathed, letting a hand trail gently down her back once and then again. Patton settled himself carefully into a seating position continuing to pet her. After a few more moments of soft petting, she hesitantly stepped her front paws onto Patton’s thigh, so she was sitting in both of their laps. Patton laughed softly. “Hi sweetie.” He glanced over at Virgil who had a wide smile on his face as he pet the cat. This. This was adorable. They continued to pet the cat for a very long time.

Chapter 31

Logan waited for a while after Patton left to check on Virgil, but the two never resurfaced. It was odd, Patton would usually remember to come back and get Logan or at least tell them where they were. With a sigh, Logan climbed to his feet to go find them. It took him a while to weave his way through the maze of bushes to them especially because they were suspiciously quiet (Well, suspicious for Patton. Virgil was often unnervingly quiet when alone.) Luckily, he knew the bushes enough after all of these years not to get lost and managed to find the two after a few minutes.

“Ah,” he said, immediately identifying the reason for Patton disappearing.

“Logan!” Patton said, his voice excited, but also quieter than normal. “We found a kitty!”

“I can see that,” Logan responded, taking a step closer. The cat hissed at him in response. The hissing was so intense and wild that he’d suspect the thing was feral if it wasn’t happily on Virgil’s lap having had it’s head in Patton’s lap before Logan had approached.

“No,” Virgil told the animal as though it could understand words. “That’s Logan. Be nice.”

The cat still glared at him and swished it’s tail back and forth threateningly. Virgil pet the top of it’s head and it broke eye contact with Logan to purr.

Patton seemed delighted by the purring, reaching to stroke under the thing’s chin carefully. “We should give her a name!” Patton said.

Virgil frowned. “I thought her name was Ghost Kitty.”

“That is ‘Ghost Kitty’?” Logan asked skeptically. From what Patton had said about that cat, it was terrified of people and no one could ever get near it, even him. Now it was in Virgil’s lap?

“But that was a temporary name,” Patton said, “for before we officially met her. Now we have to give her a real name.”

“Do not give it a name,” Logan said. “You will get attached.”

“How do you name a cat?” Virgil asked.

“Do not name it,” Logan said.

“You give them names based on their personalities, how they look, or even just because it’s a cute name,” Patton explained. “Like, remember Mittens? I named her Mittens because she has white fur and black paws!”

Virgil looked at the cat. “She’s completely black,” he said.

Patton hummed. “So, we could give her a name based on that like Midnight or Shadow.”

“Those are fine,” Virgil said.

“No, no,” Patton said. “I’m just giving you examples. You get to name her yourself.”

“This is a bad idea,” Logan said.

“Just throw out some names,” Patton said. “Anything you can think of.”

“Uh,” Virgil said. “Knife.”

“…Just Knife?” Patton asked.

“Nightmare.” Virgil seemed to think about it. “No, that’s mean.”

“How about things you like?” Patton suggested.

“Alfredo?”

Oh no, Logan thought, he was worse than Patton at cat naming.

“Good start,” Patton said. “Logan, do you have any suggestions.”

“Cat,” Logan said.

“Real suggestions,” Patton scolded.

Logan sighed and thought for a moment. “Aphrodite.”

“Catphrodite!”

Logan glared at him. “Helena.”

“Helenpaw.”

“Claudia.”

“Clawdia.”

“Persephone.”

Patton smiled at him, cheerfully.

“…Damnit!”

Patton turned to Virgil again. “Like that! They don’t even have to be serious. Like, uh, you could name her Madam Fluffywuffykins the Great!”

“Do not name her that,” Logan said, scrunching up his nose.

Logan sat on the ground, the cat eyeing him, but no longer hissing. Logan gently guided them towards more sensible names despite Patton trying his hardest to drag them into stupidity.

Virgil still didn’t quite get it. He mostly tried to name it after foodstuff, and often not even appropriate foodstuff such as “Corn” and “Acorn Squash” and “Sandwich” and occasionally would drop in semi violent ones such as “Razor,” “Nightshade” and “Void.” Patton suggested names like “Fluffers,” “Bobette” and “Darling” as well as some that were puns. Logan tried to direct them towards more sensible ones like “Salem” and even went so low as to suggest the contrary “Snowball.”

It quickly seemed to become less about actually naming the cat and more of a game. Patton had taught Virgil about playing with cats and had even gotten out a ball of yarn he cared around for his crafts. Both Virgil and the cat seemed to find endless entertainment with that. Logan hoped Patton had another ball of yarn that color because, he was never going to get that ball back.

The barrage of names fizzled out into naming things around them like “Leaf” and “Bush” until they stopped suggesting names altogether. Patton and Logan sat back and watched Virgil play with the cat.

Logan watched as they stopped playing suddenly and Virgil and the cat squinted at each other. “Marisol,” Virgil said, pulling the name out of nowhere. “That’s her name.” He said it with a certainty that was surprising considering how he’d treated the naming process with confusion and caution earlier. If Logan did not know better, his tone of voice would indicate that the cat, or Marisol he guessed, had gotten bored of them coming up with stupid names and decided to tell him her actual name herself.

The cat made a sound and batted at Virgil’s face without claws to grab back his attention.

He turned back to it and bopped its face with a finger in kind. It attacked his finger, but in a clearly playful matter as it still did not extend it’s claws and its teeth did not draw blood.

“That’s a great name, Virgil,” Patton said.

“Much more pleasant than any that Patton suggested all afternoon,” Logan said. He received an elbow to the side for his quip.

“A pretty name for a pretty kitty,” Patton said, scooting over to where Virgil was sat and attempting to pet Marisol’s head. Marisol, however, was too keyed up and batted at the hand.

“I love you too!” Patton said.

Logan rolled his eyes, but he had long since resigned himself to watching the two of them play with and coo over the cat for the rest of the day.

Eventually, though, it started to get darker. Even after Logan pointed this out, it still took over an hour for them to relent and leave the bush maze to go to the door. The problem was of course, that the cat had managed to grow very attached to Virgil in the last few hours and she followed them all the way to the door with manipulatively heart breaking mews.

“You’ve got to stay out here,” Virgil said, when they got to the castle door. He pet her ear softly and she shoved her head into his hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t have anywhere to put you.” He sounded horribly sad about that fact and Logan felt himself shift uncomfortably. “I basically live in a closet and Logan doesn’t like cats in his room anyway.”

Logan immediately felt unreasonably guilty, probably more so because Logan did not think Virgil was trying to make him feel guilty. “…Bring the dammed thing inside.”

Virgil blinked up at him. “What?”

“It will get cold soon anyway,” Logan said.

He frowned at Logan from where he was crouched. “But you don’t like fur in your room…”

“I will have to find a potion that works,” he said with a sigh, “and we’ll have to say it’s mine to the guards and Father since it will be staying in my room, but it is yours in every other way. That means you are going to feed it, clean it, and clean up after it.”

Virgil nodded immediately and swooped Marisol up in his arms. The cat went without complaint. “Thank you!” he said. “I love her.”

“I know you do,” Logan said, already regretting it already. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to even consider recanting the offer considering how happy Virgil seemed to be. They had a cat now, he guessed.

Chapter 32

“What are you doing?” Helen asked a few minutes after her son walked into the kitchen and started looking around as though he were trying to find something. It was a few hours into the afternoon, and she and a few workers were already prepping for dinner.

“Uh,” Patton said. “Have you seen Virgil?”

“No,” Helen said. “Why.”

“Er… Logan and I sorta, lost him,” Patton said. He was wringing his hands anxiously. Helen put down the knife in her hand.

“What do you mean you lost him?” she asked.

“Well, see, we were trying to teach him how to play hide and seek, um, but then we didn’t think to tell him that he eventually had to come out if we didn’t find him, and now we haven’t seen him since breakfast.”

“He didn’t know what tag is?” she asked. That was just one more thing to add to the list of why Helen worried about Virgil and where he came from. Every morsel of information she’d managed to wring from Patton despite his evasions made her lists of concerns grow larger, even little things like him not knowing about simple childhood games. Actually, thinking of concerning things having to do with Virgil. “Wait, so he hasn’t eaten lunch.”

“Um, we don’t know that,” Patton’s mouth said while his eyes said ‘no.’

“He needs to be on a consistent diet, especially when he’s still taking the malnutrition potion,” she scolded.

“I know, Mama, I know,” Patton said. “I’m trying to find him. I’d kinda hoped he’d gotten hungry and snuck down here. He probably wouldn’t want to risk being caught stealing food though.”

Helen grimaced. Yet another concerning thing.

“Wait! I have an idea, I’ll be right back.” Patton turned and ran out of the room. Helen frowned at the space he’d been and finished chopping the carrot on the cutting board in front of her. If it had been any other person in the castle missing, Helen wouldn’t have worried, but she had literally never seen Virgil without Patton and/or Logan by his side. Even when he’d gone to help Jeff can some fruit, Logan had reportedly hung around to read a book.

Considering that Logan had never exactly been clingy even with Patton, she imagined that either Virgil asked, or Logan thought he should stay with him for his comfort. So, she was surprised that he was apparently hidden away somewhere in the castle where neither of the other kids could find him.

Still thinking about this, she walked over to the entrance to the cellar below the kitchen where they stored most of the vegetables, planning to grab some more carrots. She was confused for a moment when she heard movement from deeper in the pantry. She reached over and touched the panel near the door that controlled the magic lights.

The newly illuminated figure startled as the lights came on, whipping around to stare at her with wide eyes.

“Virgil?” she asked.

“Sorry,” he said immediately, taking a step back.

“It’s fine,” she said immediately, “but what are you doing here?”

He considered her for a long moment, but apparently, she passed some sort of mental test, because he relaxed, at least as much as he’d ever relaxed in her presence. “Where are we?” he asked.

Her brow knit together. “The cellar under the kitchen,” she said, “You don’t know that?”

He shook his head.

“The only entrance is from the kitchen.” Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen him go through the kitchen at any point.

“No, it’s not,” Virgil said. “There’s a tunnel.”

“A-a tunnel?” she asked. Actually, taking a closer look at him, he seemed a bit grimy. He had dust all over his front and dirt on his nose. She thought he might even have a couple of cobwebs in his hair.

“Yep,” he said.

“Where’s the tunnel?” she asked.

“It’s right over here,” he said. He took a couple of steps and pointed to the ground. There was an open square hole there that clearly had been made a long time ago but which she had never noticed in all of her time working here.

“How did you find this?” she asked.

“We were playing hide and seek,” Virgil explained. “Logan said I could hide anywhere inside the castle. I hid on top of a dresser upstairs in some unused sitting room. There was a hole in the wall above it, so I climbed into it. Then, I crawled a little bit and it let out into a hidden passage in the walls. I wandered around in it until I found another hole in one of the walls. I thought it was a way out, so I squeezed into it, but it took me to a different hallway where I found an old room. There was a different hole in that room that had probably been covered by something because it was in the floor but whatever it was had rotted away. I crawled though it into a tunnel and came out here.”

She couldn’t help but laugh a bit at his explanation. “Well, it sounds like you went on an adventure,” she said, “but Patton and Logan have been trying to find you. You missed lunch.”

He tilted his head at her. “I know. I was supposed to hide.”

“Yes,” she explained, “but you are supposed to come out at some point if they can’t find you for things like food.”

“Oh,” he said.

“They probably should have explained,” she said. “For now, why don’t we get you something to eat? You must be hungry.”

Virgil frowned. “But I missed lunch.”

“You can still eat even though it’s not in normal hours,” she said. “You could even if you had made it to lunch.”

“Really?” he asked, he looked tragically confused by this offer.

“Of course, sweetie,” she said. “In fact, I insist you get something good to eat right now. How about I made you a grilled ham and cheese sandwich? Maybe some cookies too!”

Virgil titled his head. “You are Patton’s mother,” he stated.

Helen laughed softly. “He gets its all from me,” she said. “We should probably go find him and tell him you’re okay. He was worried.”

“I didn’t mean to worry him,” Virgil said with a frown.

“I know,” Helen said. “It’s okay. He’ll probably laugh when he figures out where you’ve been, and Logan will interrogate you all about the secret passageways.” He seemed happy about the prospect of seeing his friends. “Come on, let’s go upstairs for a bit,” she said.

Chapter 33

Patton’s mom had already made Virgil sit down at the small table in the corner of the kitchen and had handed him a sandwich by the time Patton barreled into the kitchen, Logan coming after him at a more sedate pace.

“Virgil!” he said, sounding surprised and relieved.

“Patton,” Patton’s mom scolded. “No cats in the kitchen.” Patton had brought Marisol in with him and had let her go as soon as he’d seen Virgil. She immediately plodded over to him and hoped onto the table to sniff at his face in greeting.

“But she’s the princess!” Patton argued.

“No,” Logan said.

“Yes, she is!” Patton said.

“The stupid cat is not a princess.”

“Don’t be mean to your little sister, Logan.”

“I regret every life decision that has led me to this point.”

While Logan and Patton were distracted squabbling and Patton’s mom was distracted watching them squabble, Virgil tore off a bit of the ham in his sandwich and offered it to Marisol. Marisol gracefully took it from his grip and ate it.

“So, this is Logan’s new cat I’ve been hearing about?” Patton’s mom asked.

“Indeed,” Logan said, his lips thinned. He and Marisol were mostly amicable when alone with just them and Virgil, but Patton had a habit of cooing over the kitten and needling Logan into being irritated.

“Mmm, yeah,” Patton’s mom said. She glanced over at Virgil right as Marisol basically slammed her face into his chin in a bid to get pets. “Your cat.” She shook her head. “But Princess Kitten or not, I do not want fur in dinner,” she said.

“Sorry,” Patton said, honestly not sounding sorry at all. Virgil was always a bit surprised when the insolent shrug garnered nothing more that a scowl that did not reach Patton’s mom’s eyes. “I thought she could help me find Virgil, but you already found him.” He turned to Virgil. “Where have you been all day?”

“Found a tunnel,” Virgil said. He had to use one hand to hold Marisol back from his sandwich as he took another bite, but then gave her a bite of cheese.

“You found what?” Logan asked.

“There’s a tunnel under the cellar,” Virgil said. “It goes to an old closed up room and also to a set of secret passageways.” It was a bit of a security risk honestly, though clearly no one had used it in years by how dirty it was. He did plan to go back into it and make sure the sprawling tunnels didn’t go to anywhere more dangerous like the royal wing.

“A closed-up room?” Logan said. He could see a bit of curiosity already building in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “Where the door used to be seemed like it had been bricked over.”

“Really? Can you show me.”

“Sure,” Virgil answered.

“Ah, perhaps we should be a bit more cautious about climbing through random tunnels we don’t know the stability of,” Patton’s mom said.

Logan’s frown edged on a pout.

“Talk to your father,” she said. “I’m sure he can get someone who understands these things so you can safely investigate.”

“It was safe enough for Virgil,” Logan pointed out.

“No, Logan.”

He sighed but seemed to concede. That was another strange thing about living here. By all rights Logan didn’t have to obey anyone except the king, but he often listened to those around him, not just the adults but Patton as well. It was interesting though it sometimes made the hierarchy hard to figure out. Virgil did sometimes stress out about the hypothetical situation where he got conflicting orders from two people, and he wouldn’t know which one to obey. So far it hadn’t been a problem luckily. They always seemed to work it out amongst themselves in some give and take social interaction that was a bit too complex for him to understand.

Patton walked over to where Virgil was sitting. “I’m glad your safe,” he said. “We should probably put a time limit on hide and seek in the future, so you know when to come out.”

“Did I win?” Virgil asked. He’d honestly forgotten they’d been playing a game until Patton’s mom had asked how he’d found his way into the cellar.

Patton laughed. “I’d say so, yeah,” he replied. He leaned over to kiss Virgil’s forehead, but drew back immediately with a pinched expression. “You are… very dirty,” he said, rubbing his mouth.

Virgil nodded. “Your mom made me sit on a tablecloth,” he said gesturing to the fabric she’d laid over the chair.

Patton snorted out a laugh. “We’ll get you into the bath when you’re done eating and you can tell us all about your little adventure.”

“I would also like to hear about your discoveries,” Logan said. “Though you are not allowed to sit on the bed until you do not have spider webs in your hair.”

Patton’s eyes widened and he jumped away from Virgil, startling both Virgil and Marisol. The latter hopped from the table onto Virgil’s lap. “Spiders?!”

Virgil tilted his head at him in confusion.

“He isn’t a fan of spiders,” Logan informed him, his voice amused at Patton’s reaction.

Apparently deciding that she was no longer startled, but more confused by the noises Patton had just made, Marisol jumped out of Virgil’s lap to investigate, wrapping her way around Patton’s legs. He bent down to pat her back, though he still looked a bit startled.

“Your cat, huh?” Patton’s mom asked Logan once again. Virgil studied her. She had apparently missed Logan mentioning that he allowed Virgil on the bed. Or perhaps Logan was correct in his insistence that it wasn’t actually that big of a deal here. Virgil would rather not test that assumption, however, so was glad that it had been distracted from by Patton’s outburst.

“Creepy, crawly death dealers,” Patton mumbled into Marisol’s fur, having picked her back up. Virgil made a note to not inform Patton of all of the different types of spiders he’d seen skittering around in the castle walls today. Maybe he’d talk about them with Logan once Patton left. He’d probably be interested. Virgil had seen some he’d never seen before! Logan probably could even help him figure out what their names were. “You’ll protect me, won’t you kitty?” Patton asked Marisol.

She made a little ‘burrrr’ sound in response, which Patton seemed to take a confirmation.

“Aw thank you, baby! Such a good baby.”

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Virgil popped the rest of the sandwich into his mouth. Patton’s mom turned away and grabbed a plate stacked with cookies. She handed it to Logan. “Take these, and please get the health hazards out of my kitchen,” she requested.

Logan took them without complaint. “Come on, Virgil,” he said. “Let’s go get you clean.”

“We’re going to need so much soap,” Patton said.

Virgil looked down at himself. “I can go outside and get most of it off if you get me a bucket of water,” he offered.

“Virgil, it’s below freezing,” Logan said as though that had a baring on what he’d just said. Logan sighed. “No. Bathtub.” Virgil shrugged. “Honestly,” Logan said. He turned with the plate of cookies in his hand, clearly expecting to be followed. “You’re not going to catch your death pouring a bucket of water over yourself in the cold when there are literally over a hundred perfectly good bathtubs in this castle. For goodness sakes.” And well, Virgil wasn’t going to complain.

Chapter 34

Patton, to be completely honest, was not all that interested in the room that Virgil had found. Beyond just the fact that it would definitely have creepy crawly death dealers in it, he really did not understand the intrigue. If it had just been him, he probably would have just let a castle worker deal with it, but it was not just him. Logan was ecstatic with the prospect of investigating a secret in the castle. People who didn’t know him well may not believe it considering he spent most of his time with his nose in a book, but he was an adventurer at heart.

Thomas had been easily swayed into finding someone to help tear down part of the wall into the secret tunnel near the room (so no one would have to crawl through the kitchen cellar like Virgil). It had taken a few days, however, and Logan was practically bouncing off the walls waiting. Virgil, despite having already seen the room before, also seemed excited, though if that was because of his own curiosity or because he was just excited that Logan seemed so exited remained to be seen.

“They are silly, aren’t they,” Patton asked Princess Marisol. He was laying on his stomach on Logan’s bed and Princess Marisol had just put her little paw on his nose.

“Yes, I agree,” he said. “Don’t they know that we’re literally going to be 2 feet away from the normal hallway?”

“It is not silly,” Logan defended himself. “Any number of things could go wrong.” He sounded far too excited about the prospect of something going terribly wrong. “The tunnels could cave in and block off the exit or there could be some unknown pathogen in the air.”

Patton did not ruin his fun by mentioning that Logan’s dad had definitely basically baby proofed the tunnels for them ahead of time. Instead, he just said, “Don’t let Virgil hear you say that sort of thing. It will just stress him out.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” he said, waving off Patton’s concerns as he mulled over two different weird green planty things (potion ingredients, Patton assumed) before setting one aside and sticking the other in his bag.

“So silly,” Patton cooed at the cat. Logan let out a huff but did not choose to say anything about it this time.

Speaking of silly, Virgil came back from Logan’s bathroom then, and Patton tried not to giggle. “Is this right?” Virgil asked, sounding and looking confused. Logan, in his overexcitement about adventure had commissioned Virgil an outfit that actually fit. Said outfit, however, very much made it look more like Virgil was going on a safari instead of a two-foot detour from the normal castle hallway.

“Almost,” Logan said, “Here, let me.” Logan started straightening everything out and flattening the collar, reminding Patton of an overbearing parent on picture day. Virgil accepted the fussing without protest. It was adorable. Well, the outfit was ridiculous, but still, adorable. “There,” Logan said. “I think we’re ready to go now.”

It was about time. Patton was sure people were already waiting for them downstairs. Patton got up and patted Princess Marisol on the head. She looked up at them with interest.

“You can stay here, sweetie,” Patton told here. She seemed to consider it and then hopped down from the bed to go rub up against Virgil.

Patton guessed she was coming. It didn’t matter too much since Logan had given her a magical collar that allowed her to open most doors in the castle and everyone knew she was the royal cat now, so if she decided she wanted to come back to the room and nap, she could. (She was very aware of the power she held.)

She pranced happily by Virgil’s side all the way down the steps to the first floor of the castle. She was such a good kitty.

Well, she did hiss angrily at everyone who came too close to them, but still, a very good kitty.

Patton did lean down and pick her up so they could actually talk to the man waiting for them at the large hole in the wall. Logan went to talk to the castle worker while Virgil half hid behind Patton. He was clearly listening very intently to the conversation however, at least more intently than Patton was. Patton was busy shaking his head fondly.

“Yes, yes, Princess,” he said to the cat. “I know we do not trust the strangers, but I promise this stranger is perfectly safe.”

“How do you know?” Virgil asked.

“His name is Chester and I’ve known him since I was 9.”

This seemed to slightly alleviate Virgil’s suspicion, but Princess Marisol still seemed antsy. Patton really needed to start slowly introducing the both of them to more people.

Logan finished talking with Chester after a few moments and it was time to climb through the hole in the wall. He wished he saw in the tunnel whatever Logan with his excited eyes and bounce to his step obviously saw. Or even that was more comfortable in the dark closed in space as Virgil obviously was. As it was, Patton’s nose scrunched up at the thought off all of the spiders that could be living everywhere in the secret tunnel, but he pushed through.

The entrance to the tunnel had been made only a little bit from the room Virgil had mentioned and Chester had led them through it after only a couple of seconds. As Patton had suspected, the room was already lit up and probably cleaned a little bit by the people who had cut into the wall, not that he was complaining.

Virgil was still clinging a bit to Patton’s shirt, though it seemed to be less out of anxiety at this point and more out of a desire to stick close. He was peering around curiously at the lit-up space. He probably hadn’t seen much of it in the dark when he’d been here before.

Yet, his curiosity was nothing compared to how excited Logan seemed to be. Now Patton may have not been interested in the room itself, but he was entertained by how interested Logan was and was happy to encourage that.

“What do you think this place is?” he asked Logan.

Logan hummed contemplatively, eyes looking around. “Well,” he said. “It’s a bedroom clearly, and old. Considering the location it is in in the castle, the size, the decorations, and it’s likely age, I’d imagine it was a bedroom of a royal family member. This used to be the royal wing three royal lines ago.”

“Bearing that in mind, there are a couple of likely possibilities for the origin of the room as well as the reason it was sealed up, but we will need to investigate more in order to come to an actual conclusion.” He had already placed the bag he’d brought on the ground and was going through it, pulling out things that Patton did not recognize. He also got a piece of paper and sat on the floor to start to sketch.

“What are you doing?” Virgil asked.

“I’m sketching the floorplan of the room,” Logan said. “I will then put a grid on it so we can investigate while being sure that we aren’t missing anything.”

Virgil seemed uninterested in this part of the adventure, instead electing to go poking around by himself. Princess Marisol squirmed out of Patton’s arms to go follow him. Patton swore that he only looked away from those two for 5 seconds, but the next thing he knew he heard metal clicking against metal.

“Oh,” Patton said, eyes wide when he saw what Virgil was fiddling with. “Honey, you probably shouldn’t touch…”

The old but fancy looking chest that had been at the end of the remains of the bed creaked open. Virgil sneezed as a cloud of dust puffed out of it. “Huh,” he said studying the contents. “There’s a skull in here.”

“Oh, I don’t like this adventure anymore,” Patton commented.

Logan was on his feet within moments. “Let me see,” he said eagerly.

“What if it’s cursed?” Patton pointed out.

“Then I’ll just break the curse,” Logan waved him off. “Oh, it’s just a horse skull,” Logan said, sounding disappointed. “And also what seemed to be potion ingredients. Though they seem very fresh considering the state of the room.”

“Maybe we should get someone else to…”

Logan already had both arms inside the chest and was pulling things out of it. “This chest must have some sort of stasis effect to it.”

He started pulling things out to look at them before setting them on the floor with no caution. “Well,” he said, “that answers the question of what this room is.”

“It does?” Patton asked.

“Ah, yes, between the horse skull and the potion ingredients, this is obviously the bedroom of Princess Marianne Elicia. She was the third child of King Simon IV and was quite the fan of horses.”

“…So she kept a horse skull in a stasis chest in her bedroom?” Patton asked.

“Of course,” Logan said. “Back when her family was in power, magic was outlawed and had quite the stigma against it, but she ended up learning magic and become quite proficient.”

“It’s debated what exactly happened when her father found out about her activities. Some sources say that she was executed silently by her father, but others say she managed to escape with the head of the stables but not before putting a curse on the country of Prijaznia. That is until she or one of her bloodline sits on the throne, every royal line will end in madness and blood by the 5th seated monarch before an heir is born.”

“Isn’t that something you should be worried about?” Virgil asked.

Logan shrugged. “It’s just a myth,” he said. “Besides I’m 6th in the line, so there really isn’t any concern.”

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“There are a lot of interesting things in here,” Logan said, still focused on the chest. “Not to mention the books. We’ll have to be careful with those though since they don’t appear to be in stasis.”

Logan pulled the horse skull out and set it on the floor making Patton wince.

“Marisol no!” he said as Princess Marisol immediately went to go sniff at it. He swooped her up in his arms. “How long are we staying in this creepy room?” Patton asked.

“Patton, we just got here,” Logan said.

“We just got here and already found a skull!”

“Yes! Exactly!”

Patton groaned into Princess Marisol’s fur even as she tried wiggle away to go back and investigate the skull. This was going to be a long day.

Chapter 35

Logan was surprised when he woke up alone in bed. He’d grown to anticipate waking to a smaller body unrelentingly clinging to his in the past couple of weeks. Confused he sat up and peered around his bedroom. He wouldn’t have seen Virgil with the way he melted into the darkness if it he hadn’t heard the sound of purring coming from near the window. He could just barely make out a dark blob shifting up and down at the cat kneaded at a different blob sitting mostly hidden behind the thick curtain.

“Virgil?” Logan questioned. “What are you doing?”

“It’s snowing,” was the answer.

“That is not an answer,” Logan grumbled at the ceiling. With a sigh, he pulled himself out of bed. It was a bit chilly in here, he thought. The temperature must have dipped suddenly and intensely enough that the runes keeping the castle at a warm enough temperature hadn’t caught up yet. He pulled one of the blankets off of the top of his bed to wrap around his shoulders as he approached the window. There wasn’t much light outside, the stars and moon covered by clouds, but there were some lanterns lit for the night guard who patrolled the outside. “Oh,” he said in surprise. “It’s really snowing.”

It had been colder but not quite cold enough for snow to stick the day before, so it came as a surprise when he saw snow was piling up quite high to the point where familiar paths outside his window had disappeared.

“I don’t like it,” Virgil informed him.

“Why not?” Logan asked.

“It’s cold,” Virgil answered. It was clear in his tone that in Virgil’s opinion ‘cold’ was a horrible insult to the concept of snow. Logan quirked a half smile and his attention was drawn to the fact that it was quite cold right here close to the window.

Frowning, he pulled at the blanket around his shoulder so he could wrap it and his arm around the lump that was Virgil. He brushed the boy’s hand when he did so and found it was like ice.

“You’re freezing!” Logan said. “How long have you been by the window?”

“I dunno,” he replied.

Logan was already tugging at him. “You need to get back in bed,” he said.

Virgil obeyed the pulling at his arms even as he frowned. “I’ve been colder than this before,” he said.

“That actually doesn’t make me feel better,” Logan replied dryly as he shooed him towards the bed.

He took the thicker blanket that usually stayed folded at the end of the bed and pulled it up over Virgil before climbing into bed beside him.

“There,” Logan said, rubbing Virgil’s arms through the fabric of the sweater he wore to bed. He was glad he wasn’t wearing a t-shirt at least. “The runes for heating the castle should catch up within a few hours, but until then this should do. Assuming we don’t sit by the freezing window for an undetermined amount of time.”

“I don’t like the cold,” Virgil told him.

Logan sighed. “Then why did you sit by the window?”

Virgil shrugged and ducked his head a bit. Logan reached out to grab his hands to help him warm more but was surprised when one of the hands was much warmer than the other. He found his fingers were clutching a crescent shaped stone: the protection charm they’d made. Logan knew that he kept it in his pocket most of the time, but he didn’t normally see him holding it like this. It was warm to the touch, of course, indicating the safety of the room around them.

Logan looked over his face. “Are you…” he said. “Scared of the snow?”

“I don’t like the cold,” he said once again.

“You’re scared of the winter,” Logan concluded. He looked at Virgil who was far too small for his age and seemed surprised at every casual act of kindness. It was clear that his basic needs were far from being met before he came here. Logan had to wonder what winter usually meant for him. His experiences were doubtlessly very different from Logan’s own. “That makes sense,” he acknowledged, “but you don’t need to be scared of it here. The castle is always perfectly warm and safe in the winter and Mr. Deknis and Ms. Heart work hard during the other seasons to make sure we have plenty of food. There is nothing to fear here.”

He did not seem convinced.

“You don’t even have to go outside if you don’t want to,” Logan promised. “The castle is plenty big if you’d like to stay inside all winter long. It was made for the winter even without the magic devices that keep it warm. We have fireplaces and well insulated rooms even if those that ends up failing.” Logan pulled open the hand that had the protection charm just to transfer it to his other hand to warm it. “Though, while no one would force you to go outside, the snow isn’t always bad.”

“Yes it is,” Virgil said, his voice sure.

“Not all the time,” Logan insisted. “Some people love the snow.”

“They’re stupid.”

Logan laughed. “It can be fun for a while with the right equipment if you have someplace to get warm again afterwards. Royal duties slow down during the winter and Patton tends to come up with all sorts of games for both the inside and the outside to pass the time. He’s particularly proficient at snowball fights, at least against me.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Play fighting,” Logan answered. “Like pillow fights, but snow.”

“I’ll stick with the pillows,” he replied.

“And then there’s a hill to sled down on the western side of the castle, and people like to build snowmen along the path.”

“What are snowmen?” Virgil asked.

They’re temporary statues made out of packed snow,” Logan explained. “Typically, they’re made of three different sized balls of snow: the largest being the base and the smallest the ‘head’ though there are some variations. After building them one typically decorates them with different articles of clothing and objects found lying around. It’s usually sticks and rocks for the face and then things like extra hats and scarfs for decoration.” He smiled softly. “When my Pa was alive, we used to steal my Dad’s crown and fanciest robes. Sometimes Pa would steal it right off of Dad’s head and we’d run away. We’d find a secluded area of the castle yards and build the biggest snowman we could as quickly as we could before we got caught. He’d usually end up letting us keep the robes, but we’d have to give the crown back since some of the metals in it would rust when wet.”

“That sounds…” Virgil’s nose twitched. “fun if you take away the touching snow part.”

Logan laughed. “It is fun,” he said. “Even with the touching snow part. Though, I admit that some of the ability for it to be entertaining does come from the fact that we could warm up afterwards with ease. You’ll enjoy Patton’s mother’s constant offering of hot chocolate during the season even if you never go outside, I’m sure.”

“Hot chocolate?” Virgil asked intrigued. His dark eyes shone brightly in the little light coming through the window. It was clear he could guess something about the drink just by the name and enjoyed the implications.

Logan smiled fondly. “It is a hot drink,” he explained. “It’s a warm drink made out of milk and chocolate. I can get you some to try in the morning.”

Virgil nodded, eyes still wide with interest.

“For now, we should sleep though,” Logan said. “Are you warm enough? I can get more blankets.”

“I’m fine,” he said.

“Good,” Logan said, reaching up and adjusting the blanket over them once more, tucking it around Virgil a little bit for good measure. “Goodnight Virgil,” he said.

“Goodnight,” he replied softly. Logan reached under the blankets to grab the hand that was still slightly chilly from the window between his own. Virgil’s eyes slipped closed after a moment as he nuzzle his face into the pillow. At some point they both drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 36

Thomas had already been well aware that winter was on the way, but he and the rest of the castle occupants had been surprised at how intensely and suddenly it had come on. Most things were ready for the winter, but not all of them had been initiated. The fireplaces that took some pressure off the castle heating runes were cleaned out and ready, but they hadn’t been started yet. The stables for different animals on the grounds had been checked over and staff assignments had been made, but most were still in far out fields. Staff that went home for the winter months had been dismissed, but there were a few stragglers that would have to be helped home before things got worse.

He’d gone out to the main stable to talk to the three workers that were the heads of different areas of animal husbandry to make sure a plan to get everything to where it needed to be soon was in place. It took a while to figure out considering that they’d expected a little more time before the first major snowfall. Thomas also asked them to make sure all of the workers’ homes were in good enough condition for the weather. Ranch hands typically had homes on castle grounds but not in the castle themselves since they needed to be close to the animals. Thomas knew at least half a dozen of those who spent most of their times out in the fields were the type to forgot to maintain their homes because they preferred camping amongst the animals in the summer months and then would be in for a bad time when snow began to fall.

There should be enough extra rooms in the castle if they needed a place to stay until repairs could be done.

Those conversations took a good couple of hours, before Thomas was satisfied. Before trudging back to the castle through the still falling snow, he made a point to stop at one specific horse stall in the main stable. The horse turned his head to see Thomas when he stopped in front of his stall and puffed out a rather disaffected snort before sticking his head over the gate so Thomas could pat his nose. “Hello, Mr. Apples,” Thomas said.

The horse seemed to conclude he’d tolerated Thomas’s petting enough and ducked his head to nudge at his torso. Thomas rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes,” he said. “I brought you an apple. Some things never change.” He reached into his pocket to grab the red apple he’d brought the white Arabian. “At least you don’t bite me anymore.” He paused, apple slice in hand and eyed the horse’s nose suspiciously. “Do not bite me,” he said even though he hadn’t felt the animal’s teeth in a decade. It would be just like Mr. Apples to wait until his guard was down.

After a bit of scrutiny, he offered an apple slice. It was snatched out of his hand and there was a loud crunch as it was bit into.

“It’s snowing out,” he told the horse. The horse seemed to roll his eyes at the statement of the obvious. “I’ll remind again that if you run out in a snowstorm, I’m not running after you, so you’d be out of luck.”

Mr. Apples snorted.

“You’re old now. You’d probably not survive long enough for people to find you. Besides, you blend in with that white fur of yours. They’d probably walk right past you a few times.”

He went back to nosing for treats as soon as he finished his first and Thomas sighed, pulling out another apple slice. “What are they not feeding you enough?” The gusto with which the horse snatched the apple slice was a very clear answer. “Well, we both know that’s not true.” Thomas fed the horse a third slice of apple when he was done with his second. “I have to get back to the castle now. Don’t be a devil horse.”

Mr. Apples threw his head a bit, splattering apple smelling foamy spittle all over Thomas’s front.

“Understood. Have a nice afternoon.”

He left Mr. Apples in his stall then, knowing he’d be well cared for no matter how ill-tempered he could be at times. He’d been a king’s horse once, after all, no matter that said king had been dead for more than a decade now.

Winters were hard.

Winters were the times when things always slowed down at the castle, where royal duties were often thin. There were a lot of memories in winter.

The trip back to the castle was not particularly long, but it was also not particularly pleasant. The snow had not been cleared away considering it was still snowing which meant his feet and legs were wet and cold by the time he made it to the nearest castle door.

He wasn’t sure if, when he entered, the castle heating runes had started to work in earnest or if he’d just been so cold that any measure of warmth was appreciated, but he was relieved to be out of the snow either way.

He decided to check up on the progress of the castle staff lighting the fireplaces. With any luck, they’d be lit already, and he could warm up even more. That in mind, he headed towards the main foyer where the largest fireplace in the castle sat to take off the chill brought in by the large front doors.

The main foyer was bustling with activity when he snuck in along the sides, giving the guards stationed around nods as he passed. The main fire in the room was burning brightly, though only one of the two smaller ones near the side exits from the room was lit. The other one was still being set up with safety mechanisms. It was good progress and assuming other areas of the castle were being set up as efficiently, he assumed they’d all be set up by nightfall.

He’d need to go check around to be sure, but for now, he walked up to the main fireplace to warm his hands.

He’d gotten into the habit when he was younger to every so often glance upwards. There had been a certain stable boy who had a propensity for climbing trees. These days, he usually found nothing when he did so, often not even consciously noticing that he’d turned his gaze momentarily skywards. Yet, today, he was startled out of his own idleness by dark brown eyes looking back at him from a small ledge in the shadows high above him.

He froze as he met the young boy’s gaze. Virgil seemed as surprised to be caught as Thomas was to have caught him.

#proofread stories #not writing

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