#my dog likes sleeping on top of cushions so a while ago i spent an hour making her a big cushion fortress
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To bargain for immortality pt.4
The first thing to come to her conscious mind as soon as she woke up were always the faint distant sounds of her home. Faint, as not only was Cassandra's bedroom on one of the higher floors, but any staff members knew better than to make noise while their mistresses were sleeping. Distant barking made its way past a window left ajar, accompanied by scribbling noises.
Nicole turned around, legs tangled in the blanket that was shared until not long ago, to look for a colder spot warranted by the warm May weather. The realization that she was alone in bed made its way through the haze still remaining from sleep. That, in itself, was not unusual as Cassandra almost always woke up first and busied herself with something while waiting for her to wake up.
"Cassandra?" She called out quietly, voice still groggy with sleep and eyes not even bothering to open.
"Just a moment," came her response from the other side of the room, likely the desk, as the scratchy sound of pencil on paper stopped.
The chair was pushed away and a handful of steps took Cassandra to the door, where a maid was waiting outside as per routine. After a couple hushed instructions, the door clicked shut again and she finally approached the bed, looking down at her wife with fondness. She bent down to leave a kiss on top of messy auburn hair.
"Good morning."
Her answer came in the form of a returned kiss and impatient tug of her hand, that she gladly indulged by sitting down on top of the soft cushions that she had priorly abandoned. Nicole wasted no time in wrapping an arm around her waist and nuzzling into her side, happy to feel the cool skin underneath a thin grey robe. Cassandra decided that her wife seemed awake enough to receive news, despite the obvious refusal to even crack an eye open.
"Bela wants to go into town later and asked if we'd like to come."
There they were, emerald eyes finally open and staring up at her in surprise.
"Did you say yes?"
Cassandra scoffed. "And finally get the chance to go out and stretch my legs after being locked up in the castle for all winter? Absolutely not."
That got her an eye roll. "In that case I'll keep on sleeping through the whole evening," Nicole said, pretending to go back to the dream she had just left unfinished, something the mild tiredness that had settled in her body seemed more than happy about.
"Oh no you don't."
Two strong hands gripped her shoulders and shifted her into Cassandra's lap, thin lips intoxicatingly close to her ear. "I even prepared the perfect outfits for the two of us, I simply cannot believe you'd pass up this opportunity for some extra sleep."
Nicole laughed at the feign offense, voice finally clear and free from the morning raspiness. She stretched her arms upwards with a few satisfying pops and then let her hands rest on Cassandra's shoulders.
"My, that's so thoughtful of you," she said, leaving a soft kiss on her lips. "Good morning."
The moment was kindly interrupted by a curt knock on the heavy door. Nicole groaned and moved back on the bed, pulling a nightgown that certainly did not belong to her loosely over her shoulders. When she was covered enough to not put on a show, Cassandra chuckled and addressed the still closed door.
"Come in."
A young woman entered the room, one of the latest additions to the kitchen staff as per Cynthia's request, with a tray expertly balanced in one hand, while the other held the leash of one of the thankfully well behaved hounds.
"Eris!" Nicole greeted the black dog, who snapped its big brown eyes in her direction and started wagging its tail. Thankfully for the girl holding the leash, the dog was expertly trained and did not lunge away to its owners. Instead it followed along, not tugging on the leash until both were just by the bed.
"Breakfast, my ladies."
A small assortment of drinks, together with a plate were placed from the silver tray to the small table on Cassandra's side. One wine glass was filled with fresh crimson blood, a cup of hot tea was sitting right beside it, steam rising up from the liquid inside and, in the smaller cup, dark coffee. On the plate, a freshly baked croissant and a small assortment of berries were waiting invitingly.
"And Eris, as you requested."
The girl held up the leash, but Cassandra simply waved a dismissive hand. "Just let her go. And leave the leash on my desk."
She did as was instructed, unhooking the leash with a soft metal click and placing it, coiled up neatly, on the carefully polished wood of the desk. Then, with a slight bow, she left the two alone once again.
Nicole didn't acknowledge that, too busy patting the spot by her side for the black hound to jump up. Cassandra opened her mouth to protest, but was a second too late as the dog was already in her wife's lap getting head and neck scratches. She sighed. At least all the hounds were kept squeaky clean outside hunting sessions.
"Stop spoiling our hunting dogs."
"Oh darling don't worry, I have no power over Carolina's training," she emphasized by snapping a finger and pointing it to the far side or the bed, direction that the dog followed dutifully, curling up on top of a folded blanket. "Good girl," she cooed at the furry beast, which elicited a tail wag.
Cassandra shook her head with a small smile tugging at her lips. She passed the small coffee cup to her wife, who took a tentative sip to test the temperature. It was lukewarm, as it always was, the routine of all the family ingrained into each and every staff member to the dot. They knew how Nicole liked her coffee, what tea to pair with any kind of breakfast and, probably most important for their sake, exactly how much blood, down to the milliliter, Cassandra liked to drink in the morning. Well, early evening, but who kept track.
The bitter liquid was downed in mere seconds, the taste accompanied by a sour grimace. Nicole did not like coffee in the slightest, having lost any possible appetite for the bitter taste after drinking one too many, or a thousand too many, cups during her days in med school. Unfortunately, it still did its job of waking her up, so a compromise with a sweet cup of fruity tea right afterwards had to be made.
She passed the empty cup back to Cassandra, who replaced it with the tea.
"I have to say, seeing your face scrunched up in disgust every morning is most entertaining."
"Happy to see my attempt at waking up is enjoyable for you," she replied with a pointed look thrown over the porcelain edge of the mug.
The look however was replaced by a content sigh upon sipping on the tea, the prior bitter taste slowly replaced by a blissful blend of fruit and lavender. While their cook Cynthia was downright an expert at preparing all kinds of meat, human included, her biggest talent was creating the best blends of tea, never too overpowering but always with a balanced taste. At least according to Nicole, and she would hold that opinion to the day she died.
While waiting for the liquid to get to a more drinkable temperature, her attention went back to the dog now sprawled on its side. "Why did you ask for Eris?"
Cassandra took another long sip of her drink, far more elegant than one would expect from a woman who had no issue regularly walking around covered in blood. "I just thought we could bring her along, I know she's your favorite," she finished with a smirk.
"That's not true," Nicole quickly replied, as if she were a mother accused of having a favorite child, which only made Cassandra's grin grow wider. She cleared her throat in an attempt to save some face. "I love all our dogs equally, Eris is just… particularly well behaved, yes."
Her wife simply chuckled, not having bought any of her excuses for playing favorites. Not that Cassandra wasn't guilty of that either. Her first response to picking a favorite would be not unlike Nicole's, but she had a particular fondness for Freya, one of their Finnish hounds, who always seemed so eager to sniff out prey on the hunts. She would be lying to say that she didn't entertain the idea of asking her mother to infect some of their best dogs from time to time, their short lives feeling like blinks of an eye compared to her own immortality.
She placed the now empty glass back on the table, not quite as graceful as her mother always did after a meal. They had plenty of time, so getting up was not yet in either of their schedules.
"Are we going somewhere in particular, or just out for a stretch," Nicole asked in between sips.
"Bela has to pick something up and Dani, surprising to precisely no one, wants to visit the bookshop," Cassandra started with a slight eye roll, leaning on her side on top of the cushions and starting to toy with the hem of Nicole's sleeve. "Since we're doing none of that boring stuff, I thought you'd like to choose."
Nicole tapped a finger of the white rim of her mug, nail making a soft clink. She sighed. "Just a walk around town, I'm really dying to get out too."
"You do realize you're not confined to the castle during winter like I am right," Cassandra laughed.
"And leave my beloved wife all alone while I go out and about," her reply was overly dramatic, complete with a hand gingerly placed over her heart almost as if such an idea was close to blasphemous. It only gained her a small snort.
"Should I remind you that I've spent decades in this castle? I promise I can bear it."
Okay, grandma.
With the tea finally gone, Nicole placed the tall mug on the nightstand closest to her, effectively freeing her hands. Free to trace tender fingers up Cassandra's arm, her neck and around the intricate lace of her choker to toy with the fine chains decorating it.
"You sure about that?" Her voice was sickly sweet, all too aware of her unbeatable talent of making someone as sadistic as her wife melt with little more than a hushed tone and gentle hands.
Cassandra did not respond right away. She was nothing if not a prideful person and admitting to the fact that yes, she would miss her, even for a handful of hours, was not particularly high on her list of things to be said out loud. It was almost an unbearably clingy kind, their relationship. Or at least that's what someone who did not know better would say. Truth be told, they were both the kind of people that looked almost desperately, although a desperation worn with odd grace, for comfort in other people. People they would then fight tooth and nail, or more accurately fang and claw, to keep close. It was obvious in the way Cassandra took on the role as protector of the family, nevermind the fact that Alcina would cut any possible threats to pieces before any of them had time to lift a finger. Obvious, also in the way she was so protective over Nicole herself, the beautifully engraved dagger always strapped to the redhead’s side either under a lab coat or at the belt of a dress rendered little more than a fancy accessory.
Cassandra chuckled, wrapping long fingers around her hand and taking it away from her necklace. "Why don't we get dressed before Bela comes to nag at us mm?" Then black lips were gingerly pressed to the skin, leaving a small kiss on top of bony knuckles.
With a shrug and a less than gracious stretch accompanied by a yawn, Nicole got out from under the covers, the red velvety fabric of the robe flowing after her like an impromptu cape.
"Are you wearing my robe," Cassandra's voice came from behind her, together with hands placed on her waist.
Duh.
Not that Cassandra ever truly complained. Finding the oversized clothing her wife often wore quite endearing.
"It does look quite charming on me you have to admit."
"You're practically swimming in it."
Nicole rolled her eyes which only prompted a small laugh.
They fixed themselves enough to be semi presentable for the small distance that separated the bedroom and the dressing room. Nicole was about to suggest wearing something more casual, but the fact that going out for the first time after the long winter months was almost reason for a small celebration for all three of the Dimitrescu sisters made her shut down that train of thought. No harm in being fancy on occasion after all.
The outfits Cassandra had picked out were nothing short of perfect for the occasion. Matching black dresses, Nicole's a tad lighter with a lacy collar and frilly hems complete with a white vest-like corset, while Cassandra's was made out of a thicker fabric and went down almost to the floor, surely due to her tendency to get cold easily.
Not being the kind that lingered in the dressing room too long, that was more Daniela's style, it took little for them to get dressed. The occasional helping hand for small things that one could maybe twist and turn to do themselves, but why bother when you have a perfectly willing to help spouse, was something they both enjoyed and took a couple extra precious moments to let a hand linger or fingers to trace expertly done sems. After some makeup was applied and the leash was hooked back to Eris' collar, they finally made their way downstairs.
They were close to fashionably late it seemed, as Bela, Daniela and Anita were already waiting in the main hall, the eldest throwing a miffed expression their way upon seeing them descend the grand staircase.
Nicole noticed the absence of one of their usual party members. "Isn't Laura coming with us?"
"She had to go to Donna's this morning. Spring preparations and all," Bela's reply came dangerously close to being accompanied by an uncharacteristic pout.
Oh. Someone's in a sour mood.
They made their way down the stone paved road that connected the castle to the town in relative silence, interrupted only once by Bela telling them when they would meet up to head back home. Other than that, they just enjoyed the short walk. And for good reason, the road was surrounded by beautiful rose bushes on both sides, with pine trees expanding beyond them and the sounds of birds and nocturnal animals beginning to wake up blending together in a quiet murmur so typical to the forest.
Once in the town square under the familiar angel statue, Bela wordlessly left them in favor of making her way down a small street. Daniela and Anita seemed more courteous and said their goodbyes and see-you-laters as they turned around, chattering about something only they understood.
Left alone, with their dog whose leash was attached to the same belt Cassandra's sickle was, they started walking down the quiet streets. It was almost sundown, so even the small crowd of people usually going about their business was almost non-existent, knowing better than to be out at night without good reason.
Something that Nicole was yet to grow bored of, even after a few years spent at the castle, was the small architectural oddities around town. It looked quite regular, albeit old, at first glance but a closer look would reveal the rich symbolism resulting from the centuries of being quite literally broken off from the rest of the world and almost frozen in time.
The go to flowers planted in front of buildings were crimson roses, the familiar patterns of swirling vines and leaves engraved into walls and lamp posts. A bakery they passed by had three sickles hanging behind the glass, complementing the harvest theme the entire shop had, together with dried wheat in vases and warm inviting colors on the walls. The one fishery that everyone in town knew had a mermaid gracefully swimming in a panel just above its entrance and horseshoes were nailed to most doors leading to houses or small apartment buildings. Even a toy store had a suspiciously Angie-like doll, although without the cracks and signs of time its original counterpart sported, looking out at any passersby.
One thing that could never go unnoticed however, were the crows. Statues of the birds, big or small, could be seen anywhere, from street corners to rooftops and atop building entrances. Some had their wings spread out, ready to take flight were they not trapped by stone bodies, others had their bills open wide in a silent croak and some were simply looking on. Real crows were also incredibly common, replacing the pigeons any other city had in favor of the black birds, ironically roosting on the statues of themselves quite often and kindly providing the city background noise with their caws. Nicole inquired about their presence once, and Cassandra had explained how the locals see crows as good luck, being a symbol to Mother Miranda. Many people fed them and even had buildings upon which small towers were erected with the purpose of giving the birds space to make nests.
Nicole had a strong suspicion that some of the birds were a little more than they let on, especially after seeing their so-called goddess break into a flock on multiple occasions. Sometimes, you would look at one of the crows perched on a power line connecting two buildings, and icy grey would stare back, the depth in those eyes far too human to belong to any bird.
Her slight glare towards one crow that seemed to look at them from a windowsill was interrupted by the memory of a small list she had tucked in her pocket before leaving.
"Oh, I need to pass by the pharmacy to pick up a few things we ran out of."
Cassandra simply shrugged. "Sure," and she looked around for a moment to find the street that would take them there fastest. Not like they had any plans other than enjoying the pseudo freedom that being out of the castle gave them.
The pharmacy was oh so conveniently located on the other side of town, adjacent to the hospital near the reservoir. Ever since Miranda had found ways to lessen the negative effects of his mutation, Moreau was the designated town doctor, but due to the still somewhat volatile transformations he was still mostly confined to the place and it's murky waters, a fact that he despised greatly. It was an obvious choice, then, to erect the hospital there. It was a small building not unlike the rest of the town's architecture when it came to size, no more than three floors high and with a small staff that Moreau himself had to teach the ins and outs of medical practice. If memory serves right, even Miranda and her assistants had taught some people particularly well versed in the sciences how to operate the equipment and patients alike. Medical training seemed to be hard to come by around here and Nicole had a gnawing suspicion that it was the reason she was still alive.
The building coming into view behind the trees and the paved road that cut through the small stretch of woods separating the town and reservoir looked oddly new in comparison to the rest, as it had been erected only a couple decades prior. Attached to it, a smaller house with matching tiles on the roof and a sign that read Farmacie above the entrance's double doors.
Dogs were normally not allowed inside, but who was going to stop them of all people from marching right in, black hound happily walking by their side. They were the only ones inside, save for a short woman sitting behind the counter, panic flashing in her eyes when her gaze fell on Cassandra's tall frame, hand in hand with Nicole who was at the moment too occupied with pulling out the list of meds she had written. She gave it a once over and, sure that she had everything down, passed the paper to the pharmacist, who knew better than to ask if she had any prescriptions.
"You could've sent someone to fetch these for you," Cassandra said, eyes following the woman as she disappeared behind tall shelves full of small boxes and pill bottles.
"I know, I just didn't want to wait. I don't like running out of supplies," Nicole shrugged.
Plus, Nicole was way less likely to be questioned on why she's buying twenty different kinds of meds than a random maid. Partly because the pharmacist recognized her and partly because any sane person here knew better than not obliging when Cassandra was looming behind her. A small smirk graced her lips at the thought and a sly look was given to her wife, who was too busy playing with the dog's floppy ears to notice. Eris raised her head at the unforgivable offense, playfully trying to nip at the gloved hands that were tickling her, getting a giggle out of the brunette.
All three were distracted by the soft clink of a bell hanging above the door, indicating that someone had entered the pharmacy. It was an older man, looking to be in his sixties, heavily leaning on a crutch held in his right hand.
Cassandra's features morphed into a scowl and Nicole could practically hear the man-thing going through her mind. The man was probably on the verge of doing a complete one eighty and exit the pharmacy, when a voice called out from behind the counter.
"Ah Andrei, I have something for that infection of yours, hold on a moment," the pharmacist called out, before handing Nicole a sizable paper bag full of what she had requested.
She felt an unwelcomed whiff of decay as Cassandra took the bag from her hands, and sniffled in an attempt to ward off the stinging sensation in her nose. She fumbled with the credit card, mentally cursing the payment for not transferring quicker when the smell was starting to make her eyes water the slightest bit.
"Is everything alright my lady?"
The man's voice, full of genuine worry came from behind them, having moved closer upon the pharmacist's urging, and the putrid stench of death and decomposition flooded Nicole's senses together with the slick sensation of blood running down her face. She had to force down a gag as she shoved the card back into a pocket and all but ran out the door, worried wife in toe.
"Nicole what-" Cassandra swallowed any words she had at the sight of the blood flowing down and staining the until moments before immaculate white of her wife's corset.
Nicole made her way to a corner of the building that nobody seemed to go to, and leaned against the wall, eyes squeezed shut and trying to ward off the lightheadedness.
For someone who spent years working on dead bodies in various stages of decomposition, one would think that the smell of death did not bother her. And it didn't. But this was different, the stench seeming to make its way into her skin and clinging to her senses, coating her throat as if trying to choke her out in the most disgusting way possible. Not to mention that there was no actual dead body around.
She coughed out the blood that didn't make its way out of her nostrils and instead decided to go the throat route. Her hands were a crimson mess and so were her face and dress, a pang of guilt shooting through her for having ruined the outfit picked by Cassandra. At least the bleeding seemed to stop and so did the horrid stench.
Cassandra didn't seem to care, nor even notice, the ruined fabric. Instead she pulled out a handkerchief from a pocket and started to gently wipe the blood away from pale skin.
"What's wrong?" She asked and Nicole could only shake her head.
"I don't know. I don't know why this keeps happening," she almost ran her hands down her face in frustration but had enough clarity of mind to remember how dirty they were. "I thought it would go away, and for a while it did. I don't understand what the hell is wrong with me," she added, voice rising the slightest bit.
Cassandra grimaced, trying to get her face clean. "We can talk to Mother when we get back."
A defeated sigh made its way past bloody lips. Nicole had her doubts that Alcina would know any more than them on the situation, which was nothing. They knew nothing.
She grabbed Cassandra's hand to steady herself back on her feet, mind drifting to what she didn't want to think was her only solution.
If there was anyone who could get to the end of this, it was Mother Miranda.
#unhinged maiden™ my beloved#cassandra dimitrescu x maiden#to bargain for immortality#fanfic#doggo!!!#some fluff for a break aye#go out they said itll be fun they said
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I'm sorry it's so long but I hope you enjoy!! 😊
Two Braids Is All It Takes
Remus was always there. Whenever Sirius needed him, his Moony was always there.
Of all the things in the sob story that was Sirius’ life, Remus had been a consistent source of comfort. The lingering scent of chocolate and fresh parchment had been -is- one just as much.
This particular full moon had been horrendous. The toll it had taken on Remus’ body had had him prone in bed for two whole days. To top it all off, Sirius had received a howler from his mother this morning.
Sirius had been brooding the rest of the day, berating himself for being so pathetic that he couldn’t even get himself to comfort Moony. He hadn’t even responded to James’ words of comfort.
“James,” Sirius began, voice still thick with tears, “You should go-“
“No, Siri-“
“James.”
Prongs shut his eyes, steadying himself, and bowed his head.
He looked up after a few seconds, having made a decision.
"You’ll be okay right?” His tone was anxious, “I’ll send for Wormtail, wait-“
“Prongs,” Sirius put a hand on his shoulder, cutting him off, “Just leave me be. I’ll be fine. You should go to Moons, I’ll try to come by later.”
The couch cushions shifted as James got to his feet and moved to the door. He turned back to give Sirius one last look-over before offering him a small smile. Sirius returned it rather weakly.
Sirius screwed his eyes shut. Now James was gone too. Had his mother been right? Would he always be this alone? His miserable thoughts gave way to new tears. He bit his lip hard, choking on a sob. He took deep breaths but they only seemed to start the sobs anew.
Today was the evening of third day, and Remus insisted that he was better. Madam Pomfrey spent nearly an hour confirming it, and after bettering his remaining daylight hours with one last sticky, sour potion, left him to his own devices.
James told him of Sirius’ condition then, and Remus asked to meet him, despite James’ protests that he should return to the dorms to rest. Ultimately, Prongs gave out a resigned sigh and got Remus to the Gryffindor Common Room with Wormtail’s help
The three padded softly into the place, Remus looking just as anxious to check on Sirius as was James. The man in question, however, was so out of it that he didn’t even register their entry.
Peter sighed in long-sufferance. He whispered, “I think it’ll be better if we leave him with you, Rem.”
“Moony, I think you’re the only one who can get through to him right now,” James murmured, “He refused to say a word when I tried”
“I’ll try,” Remus paused, still staring at Sirius’ pitiful form. He smiled at his friends, “You guys should go get some sleep, you must be exhausted from all the running.”
The two helped Remus as he limped to the couch. Once he managed to stand with the support of the couch’s backrest, he waved them away and listened to the sound of their footsteps fading up the staircase followed by that of a door creaking shut.
Remus accio’d a nearby chair and sat down heavily. His eyes moved to Sirius, and before he knew it, his hands were carding through Sirius’ tangled, knotted hair. There was a jolt as Sirius startled himself out of Remus’ grasp, and relaxed evidently once he realized whose smiling face it was.
He looks so pretty like this, was all Remus could think, I don’t deserve him.
He lifted himself off the chair with great effort, moving to the front of the couch, settling down next to Sirius. He placed his left foot on the ground and stretched his right leg across the couch onto Sirius’ lap, leaning against the armrest. Sirius tracked his movements with an absent look in his eyes.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Sirius said abruptly, eyes coming back into focus.
“That isn’t for you to decide,” Remus replied casually, “I feel better, because everything feels better when you’re around”
Remus suspected it was a mixture of the late hour and mild relief from three days of agony that was allowing him to say and do things he’d regret later, but retrospect can’t hurt in the moment, can it?
Sirius froze for a second, a blush creeping across his face as he processed the statement.
Remus whooped internally, he’d provoked a rare moment of uncertainty from Sirius, even though the context he would have to give to James to explain his achievement would be wildly embarrassing.
Clearing his throat, Sirius shifted towards where his face lay on the couch, “Is your leg better?”
"Yeah, much better.” Remus hesitated, thinking vaguely of consequences, though it was kind of hard to do while he was distracted by Sirius’ moonlit, godly face, the firelight throwing his freckles and scars into aggravating focus.
“Lay down” Remus said finally.
“I’m not your dog,” Sirius growled, earning a chuckle from the other man.
“Merlin, Pads….” Remus sat up himself, a small distance away from Padfoot.
“Okay, sit down here.” He says, nodding to the place on the floor where his sock-clad feet are resting.
Sirius eyed the floor dubiously.
“Just humour me, will you?”
Sirius still looked puzzled, but complied nonetheless. Leaning cautiously against the werewolf’s legs, he crumpled the letter held in his hand, his clouded gaze staring vacantly at the dying flames in the heart.
Remus smiled minutely, and brought his hands up to Sirius’ hair, tugging gently at the strands like his mother used to do to soothe him. He continued to do so as Sirius’ body starts loosening up.
After a while, Remus probed, "You wanna talk about it?" Sirius hummed before answering with a small smile,"Same old crap." Remus let out a light chuckle and shifted his hands to massage Sirius' head.
Sirius moved himself to lie on Remus' chest. He felt home, a home he'd never felt in the house of the Blacks. It smelled like home, it felt like home. To him, it was always home and it would always be so.
The silence continued, until Remus stopped with his actions. Sirius, who was almost asleep let out a groan before opening his eyes. "Moons," he said with a sleepy voice. Getting up from his chest, Sirius looked at a frozen Remus. Panicking he asked, "Moony..Moony! You alright?" Snapping out of his thoughts, Remus looked at Sirius and smiled.
"Moons?" Sirius questioned again.
"Can I braid your hair?" Remus posed casually.
This was the second time Sirius had frozen with a flushed face that night. Remus couldn't believe it, but he smirked at the effect he had on the man.
"Can I braid your hair, Pads?" Remus asked again.
The idea of braiding, Lily and Marlene had suggested it and even offered to do so but he had refused it. The only thing going through his head at the moment was- moons wants to braid my hair!!
"Ahem, Pads?" Remus said bringing Padfoot back to earth from his heaven. "Ah, yes... sorry, I was just a little surprised... ofcourse please go ahead," he rambled. He mentally cursed himself for doing so and turning away he placed his now red face in his hands. He could feel himself burning up because Merlin, Moony is going to braid his hair.
He straightened himself and sat in anticipation. Moony brought his hands to Sirius' hair and played with it while deciding which braid to do. Remus combed Sirius' hair with his fingers and the tension in his body eased out. He started to breathe evenly as Remus began parting his hair and pulling his strands into what felt like curls around one another.
French tails, that's what Remus ended up with two small, cute little french plaits. Five minutes ago, he couldn't decide what to do since the idea had struck him so suddenly. Playing with Sirius' hair had reminded him of his mother. Hope had taught Remus baking, cooking, knitting and plaiting his mother's hair. She was the only person he did it for.
But now, in front of him sat the man he loved, in two French plaits, the first braided hair his mum taught him. In front of him, sat a man staring at himself in a mirror he ran to pick up from across the room, which probably belonged to Marlene but it didn't matter. Sirius was smiling, that was all Remus would ever need.
Remus looked down and grinned. He felt proud but more ecstatic than anything. Sirius got up and jumped, laughed and said things which Remus didn't care to hear because oh merlin he's so handsome.
He was fighting the urge to get up and kiss him, confess to him and tell him that he loved him, he truly did.
On the other hand, Sirius jumped up and down looking at his Moony and shouted, "These are amazing Moons! You are amazing!" Sirius could've sworn that he almost thought leaping at Remus and kissing him but no.. this would be enough.
He smiled brightly at him once again, as Remus now regained consciousness from his thoughts. "I'm glad you like it," he said clearing his throat. He slowly got up and raised his hand to caress Sirius' hair but accidentally tripped. Sirius instantly grabbed the man by his waist and smiled," Woah, careful there Moons." "I keep falling for you, I can't help it you idiot," Remus said arbitrarily.
Again, Sirius thought, it's the third time this night moons please. His hands moved from the man's waist to his neck. Sirius lunged forward causing his and Remus' lips to crash. The kiss lasted a good minute before Sirius pulled away.
"I like you.." they said together and broke into giggles.
"Thank God you do," Remus said blushing.
"Ofcourse I do, boyfriend," Sirius teased making Remus more flustered.
And now all Sirius had to think about was, getting Moony to braid his hair because oh merlin there was nothing better than- Moony, his Moony.
And now the two lied curled up on the couch with Remus thinking, two braids is all it takes.
Ok please I'm not amazing or anything but I hope you enjoyed it!!
Thank you @alex-tries for helping me correct my silly mistakes
Tagging: @star-dust-2317 here! Hope u like it
#wolfstar#imagine your ship#two braids is all it takes#confession#braiding#marauders era#the marauders#remus lupin#sirius black#i hope you like this#🥺
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the drug, the dark, the light, the flame, Ch.XII.ii
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Behold, a new - very emotional - chapter of my work for this year’s @geraskierbigbang in collaboration with my favourite @gen-syz-art as my artist 💕
come take a look at the incredible art for this chapter by the one and only @gen-syz-art right here ✨
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Geralt keeps himself busy with taking notes from a bestiary he’d found on one of the shelves in the library a few days ago, and he doesn’t even notice as a few hours go by.
It’s only when he hears the familiar tap-tap-tap of Asra’s and Lucio’s claws against the floor that he realises Jaskier must’ve woken up and let them out of the room.
The dogs make their way to Geralt, wagging their tails and licking his hand when he reaches out to pet them, and he needs to shift closer to one side of the chair to make space for Asra that has taken to curling up next to him and sleeping with her head in his lap.
He doesn’t mind it though he knows that it makes Lucio a little jealous.
“Would you look at you two, simply made for each other,” Jaskier teases, coming into the room.
He’d changed from the clothes he’d had on in the morning, and is now wearing a chemise of black silk, adorned with intricate emerald-green lace on the cinched wrists and the high neckline. It’s a pattern of leaves and flowers, all woven together close enough for there to be barely any skin showing.
“You look beautiful,” Geralt says, without even thinking about it, and Jaskier blushes under his gaze.
“What did you do here without me?” he asks, coming closer and giving Asra a jealous little look.
Geralt gestures to his notes on the table beside the chair and the open bestiary on top of them. He wants to get Asra back onto the floor, and have Jaskier in his lap instead of her, but she might take offence in that, and Geralt just isn’t willing to risk it.
He is, however, fully entitled to just stand up and move to the settee, which is exactly what he does, taking Jaskier with him by the hand.
Asra raises her head and snorts at him but doesn’t really protest, especially when Lucio jumps up onto the chair, and they curl up together.
“Can’t get your hands off me, can you?” Jaskier teases when Geralt pulls him down onto the settee, but he goes willingly, regardless.
He settles comfortably against Geralt’s chest, a pleased little rumble escaping his lips when the witcher pulls a blanket over both of them, keeping out the cold. It’s not winter just yet, but there are only a few more weeks left. And Redania has never really been warm.
“You don’t have to stay in the mansion all the time, you know,” Jaskier murmurs after a little while of comfortable silence. “If you want to go hunting or maybe just take Roach out for a ride, you can. I don’t want you to feel like you must stay on this side of the gates just because I do.”
Geralt hasn’t really thought about it. But knowing that Jaskier cares makes his chest feel warm.
“I like it here with you,” he says, running his fingers through the bard’s hair. “But I could bring you little things from the outside, like berries or herbs, make you feel more connected to the world.”
Jaskier hums, nuzzling against his chest and pressing a kiss to it through the fabric of Geralt’s shirt.
“Little rocks,” he says.
“What was that?”
“Little rocks. Pebbles from the river. Sometimes there are colourful ones, I used to collect them when I was in the Academy.”
“I’ll bring you little rocks, then,” Geralt agrees, and it might just be the most sentimental thing he’d ever said to anyone. “The colourful ones.”
Jaskier raises his head from his chest and leans in, leaving a warm, grateful kiss on Geralt’s lips. It makes the witcher shiver all over.
Before Jaskier can break away, he kisses him again, just as soft, and the bard returns it, shifting just enough to get a better angle. Even as he breaks the kiss to take in a breath, their lips still touch, and then Geralt can feel the wet brush of his tongue on his lips.
Jaskier doesn’t deepen the kiss, just teases, and though Geralt allows him to play his little games, he’s got a few tricks of his own.
Leaving one hand where it’s resting on Jaskier’s waist, he brings the other one higher, running his fingers up the line of the bard’s spine, and the way he gasps when Geralt brushes over the mark in-between his shoulder blades might just be the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.
“Unfair,” he whispers into Geralt’s ear, but the next moment he’s already shifting to straddle his hips.
Geralt doesn’t let himself give in that easily.
“No,” he grins, rolling his hips just enough for Jaskier to feel it. “What was unfair is you teasing me when I was here last time, making it harder and harder to resist.”
Jaskier runs the tips of his fingers over the top three buttons on Geralt’s shirt, and they open, giving him better access to the witcher’s neck. Geralt nearly whines at the little pinpricks of magic against his skin.
“You didn’t have to resist, Geralt,” Jaskier murmurs, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the witcher’s neck, right under the sharp of his jaw. “You could have just taken what you wanted.”
Feeling braver, Geralt tugs on the hem of Jaskier’s chemise, untucking it from the waist of his trousers, and slips his hand under the thin fabric, nearly burning himself with the heat of Jaskier’s skin. He wants to be more patient, but it’s been months of all those feelings burning in his chest, and he just can’t bring himself to.
Jaskier arches his back and presses his hips closer to Geralt’s as the witcher rucks his chemise up to his chest and runs both his hands up his sides, catching Jaskier’s lips in a kiss just in time to drink in his trembling little moan when he runs his fingers directly over the mark on his back.
“Is it really that sensitive?” he murmurs when Jaskier breaks away, his breathing hot against Geralt’s skin.
Jaskier nips at his lower lip in revenge, almost hard enough to break the tender skin.
“Yes,” he growls, pressing a hard, possessive kiss to Geralt’s neck and rolling his hips against his. “And if you keep doing that, you’ll pay for it later.”
Oh, but that is just way too tempting to resist.
“You need to work on your threats,” Geralt grins, dragging his nails down Jaskier’s back, gentle enough not to cause any pain.
Jaskier sucks in a breath, back arching, and hides his face in the cure of Geralt’s shoulders, shuddering all over.
Geralt medallion hums against his chest with the magic radiating off Jaskier, and on the desk by the window, all the books fly open, the pages turning as if disturbed by a sudden gust of wind.
“Fuck,” Jaskier breathes, and it’s so close to a whine that Geralt nearly loses his mind. “I can’t fucking control my magic when I’m with you.”
And gods, that might be the most incredible thing anyone’s ever said to Geralt.
He’s very aware of just how hard he is from merely a couple of kisses, and there is nothing he wants more than to flip them both around, lay Jaskier down onto the soft cushions and take him apart bit by bit, until he’s whimpering and shaking, but even more than that, he’s aware of just how important it is not to rush.
“We can slow down, if you want to,” he murmurs, pressing a warm, comforting kiss to Jaskier’s cheek. “I want you to be comfortable.”
Jaskier hums something, leaning into Geralt’s touch when he wraps his arms around his waist, gently brushing over the soft skin with his thumb.
“I am comfortable,” he says, averting his eyes almost apologetically. “I just need to adjust a little. I can barely contain my power when you touch me like that.”
Geralt tips his chin up and pulls him into a long, calming kiss.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he grins once Jaskier breaks away.
Jaskier rolls his eyes affectionately, and settles in more comfortably again, resting his head on Geralt’s shoulder.
It takes a little while for Geralt’s veins to stop burning but Jaskier’s steady breathing calms him, and really, just having him in his arms is enough.
There’s going to be time for everything else.
***
They stay in the library for the entire day, never really letting go of each other, and when Arthur comes in to bring them hot wine, he gives them a little look and Geralt could swear that he hides a smile beneath his moustache.
At some point, Asra and Lucio try to join them, but the settee isn’t big enough for all of them at once, so Jaskier gives them an apologetic look and feeds them treats that appear in his hand out of thin air.
Geralt can’t help but kiss him every chance he gets, still not quite able to believe that he’s allowed to do that now, and Jaskier smiles into his lips and kisses him back every time.
Dinner seems like an insufficient reason to get up, so they both just skip it, earning themselves another look from Arthur, this one slightly more disapproving. Jaskier gives him a charming smile in return and pointedly kisses Geralt on the corner of his lips.
It’s comfortable and easy, like they’ve known each other forever. Like everything has finally fallen into place.
“You know, I’ve had a lot of people in this mansion over the years,” Jaskier murmurs, tilting his head to sneak a look at Geralt. “But I’ve never spent entire days in the arms of any of them. Only you.”
He reaches up to brush his thumb over Geralt’s cheek, the sleeve of his chemise riding up, and the witcher already parts his lips to answer when he finally notices.
A cold shiver runs down his back, breath getting stuck in his throat, and Jaskier must notice that, because within seconds, he’s on his feet, holding his arm to his chest like a broken wing. His eyes are widened with fear, and the scent of it comes off him in waves, so strong that it’s overwhelming.
Still feeling like he’s unable to breathe, Geralt sits up slowly, careful not to startle Jaskier with any sudden movement, and his heart is beating so hard in his chest that it hurts.
“Jask--” he says softly. “What is that?”
He stands up to take a step towards the bard, but he backs away from him, terrified, tears shining in his eyes.
“It’s nothing,” he says, voice shaking.
Slowly, Geralt takes another step, holding both his hands up in a conciliatory gesture. Jaskier doesn’t move away from him, but he still holds his arm to his chest, shaking all over.
“Jaskier,” Geralt tries again, carefully closing in the distance between them until he is standing right in front of him. “Please. Let me see?”
Jaskier shakes his head stubbornly, clenching his fingers tighter.
“It’s nothing, Geralt, really--”
“Please,” the witcher repeats, cutting him off and holding his hand out. “I won’t hurt you. Just let me see.”
The seconds that go by in silence feel like an eternity, disturbed only by Jaskier’s soft sobs, until finally, very slowly, he takes his arm away from his chest and places his wrist in Geralt’s hand.
Geralt undoes the three little buttons on the side of his sleeve with shaking fingers, and Jaskier turns away, closing his eyes shut, tears glistening in his cheeks, as Geralt rolls his sleeve up.
There, on the perfect pale skin, is a long vertical scar, running from the bend of Jaskier’s wrist and all the way up to the middle of his forearm. Geralt knows enough about the marks that blades can leave on skin to know that it’s deep without having to touch it.
Geralt can feels his ears ringing even as he says:
“And the other one?”
Jaskier gives him his other arm without any words or resistance, but the broken sob that escapes his chest shatters Geralt’s heart into pieces.
“Jask--” he calls softly, reaching with his other hand to brush the bard’s hair out of his face, but when he tries to turn him towards him, Jaskier resists, refusing to open his eyes and look at him.
He’s still holding his other arm out, and Geralt takes it gently, forcing himself to take in a breath.
He undoes the buttons, and though he knows that there is going to be another scar on that arm, it still feels like a stab to the chest to roll up Jaskier’s sleeve and see it.
It’s identical to the one on his right arm, just as long and deep, and Geralt feels like his heart rips open in his chest with pain.
He should be used to scars but these ones take all air away from his lungs.
“I didn’t want you to know,” Jaskier sniffles, voice still shaking, and when Geralt raises his head, he finds the bard looking at him, blue eyes clouded up with tears. “Thought I could hide them from you for just a little longer.”
He looks so scared, so broken, and he’s still shaking all over as Geralt pulls him into his arms, holding him tightly against his chest. His eyes burn with tears, and he shuts them, pressing his lips to Jaskier’s temple.
“It’s alright,” he whispers, running his fingers through Jaskier’s hair to comfort him. “It’s alright, I’m here.”
Jaskier clings onto him, shaking with silent tears, and Geralt holds him, whispering comforting little things and leaving kisses on his temple even as his own heart bleeds in his chest.
The thought of losing him long before they even met hurts much more than he ever could’ve thought.
Time stretches and passes by without Geralt knowing if it’s been minutes or hours. After what seems like an eternity, Jaskier’s sobs quiet down, and his tears dry, but he doesn’t let go of Geralt, his body still trembling.
After seemingly just as long, Geralt finally takes in enough air to ask:
“Why did you do it?”
Jaskier doesn’t respond for a few long seconds, just breathing, before breaking away to look at Geralt.
“I was scared,” he says quietly, letting Geralt take his wrists into his hands again. “I’ve been here for a little over three years when I noticed that I’m changing, that I’m growing older. I was only twenty-one, and no-one else would’ve noticed the difference, but I did. And it was-- gods, it was hard enough already, with being unable to step outside, trying to get a proper control of my power and just being alone, but that… it just hit me so much harder than I was able to take.”
Twenty-one. He could’ve died at twenty-one.
“I tried not to think about it, I really did,” Jaskier says, his gaze falling onto his forearms. “But it became something that I couldn’t get rid of. Every time I saw myself in the mirror, I felt like it was getting worse. And I was so scared, so fucking scared of just slowly growing old and dying in this mansion, without ever taking another step outside, that one evening it just-- it just became too much.”
There are tears in his eyes again, running down his cheeks in wet lines, but he doesn’t take his hands away to wipe them off.
“I wanted control over at least something in my life, Geralt. And if I couldn’t choose the way I lived, I wanted to choose the way I died. I couldn’t stand the thought of just slowly rotting away within these walls, torn away from the outside world and completely forgotten by it, so I just… I decided to end my life before it could happen.”
Geralt can feel himself shake, and the longer he looks at the scars on Jaskier’s arms, the worse it gets. Just the thought of how scared he must’ve been to try and take his own life feels like it re-opens all of Geralt’s own scars, making him burn and bleed all over.
He can’t think of anything that he would not have done for Jaskier not to have those marks on his arms.
“Arthur found me,” Jaskier chuckles humorlessly. “The dogs felt the scent of blood and started barking, waking him up. I was unconscious by then but from what he’d told me, he’d knocked on my bathroom door for about a minute before breaking it down. Found me in the tub, stopped the blood, carried me to bed. I slept through four days straight, according to him.”
Geralt forcibly makes himself calm down, recalling everything he’d even been taught in Kaer Morhen. His mind keeps racing, but his body reacts like it had been trained to, and finally, he manages to stop himself from trembling.
“I’m so sorry you had to go through that--” he says, barely above a whisper. “Gods, Jask, I’m just--”
He hates that he can’t find the right words, and he shuts his eyes again, leaning down to touch his lips to Jaskier’s wrists, leaving hard, dry kisses on both scars.
Jaskier flinches but doesn’t take his hands away.
“It took me a long time to recover after that,” he says quietly. “Not only physically, but mentally. I’ve spent a month in bed, barely getting up and just fucking crying. Everything hurt, especially the scars, and every time I moved my arm wrong, the pain just paralysed me.”
He sways a little on his feet, and pulls Geralt down onto the hide in front of the fireplace with him. Asra and Lucio jump down from their chair and come closer, sniffing and licking at him, and Jaskier smiles through the tears, hugging them both.
“They were still fresh when one night Arthur woke me up and said that there is a woman at the gates, begging to be let in,” he says, leaning into Geralt’s arms when the witcher opens them. “She turned out to be a mage. She was badly hurt and on the run from the witch hunters, so I hid her here.”
He seems to be calming down now, resting his back against Geralt’s chest, and as his breathing evens out, Geralt can feel himself being able to breathe again, as well.
He holds Jaskier in his arms, rocking gently from side to side, and presses soft kisses to his neck and shoulders. His heart is still beating too hard and too fast for a witcher but he listens without interrupting, letting Jaskier say everything that he needs to.
“I will tell you about her some other day, if you want me to,” Jaskier says, and Geralt can hear just how tired he is, how much this conversation is taking out of him. “But she stayed with me for a little over a month, healing her wounds and planning her next steps, and when she was ready to leave, she told me that in return for my kindness towards her, she would like to grant me any wish I choose. Of course, I asked her to break the curse. But even as I was saying those words, I knew that it’s too intricate to be broken that way.”
Asra and Lucio poke at him with their noses, whining in concern, and Jaskier smiles at them, leaning down to kiss both dogs on the noses.
“It’s alright, my loves,” he reassures before tilting his head to brush his lips over Geralt’s jaw and address him again. “But when she told me that it’s a curse that can only be broken by the mage that had cast it or by meeting the requirements, she also offered me something else. Over her days here, she’d noticed the healing scars on my arms, and when she asked, I just told her. So she offered me a deal. You’re going to stay young as long as you have a reason to live, she said. It seemed a little too good to be true, but I still took it.”
Jaskier turns around in Geralt’s arms and gently brushes a stray lock of his hair out of his face, tucking it behind his ear. Geralt leans into the touch, closing his eyes, and it’s almost unexpected when Jaskier touches a gentle kiss to his lips.
And just as the meaning of Jaskier’s words fully sinks in, he says:
“Now, I don’t look twenty-five, do I?”
Geralt’s eyes fly open and it feels like he sees Jaskier for the first time, like he properly sees him for the first time. Because he’s right, He doesn’t look twenty-five. He looks twenty-one.
“It worked,” Geralt whispers.
The smile that Jaskier gives him is tired and small, but it still reaches his eyes.
“It worked,” he echoes. “And it gave me a reason to go on. Made me feel like I have it in me to keep looking for a way to break the curse without the constant fear of running out of time. And, gods, I’ve always been grateful for it but after I met you-- I’m happy I didn’t die that night.”
The words echo through Geralt’s mind what feels like a hundred times, and his chest gets so tight that he’s more than sure that his ribs are about to break.
He pulls Jaskier to his lips, kissing him with such desperation that it hurts, and Jaskier returns it fully, clinging onto Geralt’s shoulders. There is barely any air to breathe, but that doesn’t matter with just how much everything that he’d just heard makes Geralt feel.
“We’ll find a way to break it,” he whispers into Jaskier’s lips in-between kisses. “We will.”
“I know,” Jaskier nods. “I know, darling.”
He sounds exhausted, and though he’s not trembling anymore, Geralt knows that he needs to get some proper rest, needs to recover.
“You should go to bed,” he says softly, pressing a warm, chaste kiss to the bard’s forehead. “You’re tired.”
Jaskier hums something, hiding his face in the curve of Geralt’s shoulder for a few long seconds before breaking away and getting up, unsteady on his feet. Geralt does the same, never letting go of the bard’s hand.
“Geralt?” Jaskier calls softly, raising his head to meet the witcher’s eyes. “Could you stay with me for the night? After everything I’ve told you, I don’t want to be alone.”
Stay with him for the night.
Geralt’s heart skips a beat.
“Of course,” he says, closing his eyes when Jaskier leans into his arms again. “Of course, my love.”
#the witcher#geraskier#geraskier big bang#geralt/jaskier#geralt x jaskier#geralt of rivia#jaskier#the drug the dark the light the flame#my writing#calton writes
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Tim McGraw; Y.JI
GFX by @dreamystuffers
Word Count; 3.3k
Genre; Jeongin x Reader, Fluff, Summer Love AU
Warnings; None:)
Find the rest of my Stray Kids Folklore series here!
A/N: This is a part of the @kpopscape ‘Walkin On Sunshine’ summer event! Look out for the other two parts coming in the near future!
He said the way my eyes shine put those Summer stars to shame.
When your parents told you that you’d be spending the Summer at your grandparents farm you were less than excited. It’s not that you don't love your grandparents or anything like that. You adore them. No, your reluctance was more about how you don’t love the farm. It’s hot there, and there’s nothing to really do. You have to drive twenty minutes just to get groceries.
But your parents insisted, so you ended up here. In a room at the very top of the house with slanted ceilings and a floral duvet. The scent of the flowers your grandmother planted is wafting in through your window so you move to open it more after dropping your bags. When you get there, however, there’s already a figure sitting on your windowsill. A boy that looks to be your age with shocking white hair and a smile that makes your heart flutter so hard that you forget to be scared.
“Hello!” His voice is sweet, chirping like the birds outside, “I’m Jeongin, I work with your grandfather on the farm sometimes. And in the garden. I planted the tomatoes. That’s my truck in the driveway.” You're not quite sure what to say. No ones ever broke into your room and started talking about tomatoes before. No ones ever done anything close to this. You’re sure that if they did they wouldn’t be as cute and childlike as Jeongin.
“Um, hi. I’m (Y/n.)” Your words are quiet and unrehearsed. He seems to take this as a challenge.
“Hi (Y/n,) I already knew your name. Your grandmas been talking about you coming for your months, it’s kinda cute honestly. I thought that ambushing you in your room would be a bad idea but she insisted that we should spend as much time together as possible. Something about how you used to get bored as a kid.” He props himself up onto his elbows and swings a leg into your room. It’s in such a position that the exposed skin on your leg is brushing against his.
“I did get bored. It's lonely around here, but you seem like good company.” He finally plants his feet onto the wooden boards of your bedroom floor. This is all getting stranger to you, especially the fact that there’s a boy who you met mere seconds ago inside of your bedroom. You’ve never had a boy in your room before.
“Thank you! I think we’ll have fun, and uh… Not just because your grandmother said so.” He looks around the room for a moment, though you’re not quite sure as to why. It’s not like anything here will give him insight into who you are. It’s not like it’s really your room. He walks through the room, but you can’t make yourself look at him. Something about the way that he’s so comfortable. Or the way that you’re slowly becoming more excited to be at your grandparents house for the summer. Whatever’s happening, it makes it so that you can’t pry your eyes up from the creaky floorboards until Jeongin is standing in your doorway. The distance looks so much farther when there’s another person to measure it.
“Leaving so quickly?” He turns around at the sound of your question, and you notice that he’s still smiling. People don’t usually smile for this long. You try to imagine a smile that lasts this long on any of the people that you know back home, but it looks frightening in your head. It’s not frightening on Jeongin, not in the slightest. He looks endearing.
“I’m afraid I have to. Your grandfather needed help replacing a tractor engine, but I’ll be back tomorrow. The next day, too. And even the day after that.” With that he was gone, his feet thumping down the wooden staircase so quickly that it sounded like a stampede. The remainder of your arrival day was spent unpacking your suitcases. You would’ve sworn that your interactions with Jeongin were some sort of fever dream that was conjured up by the long hours you spent travelling to get here, but even still as the summer sun is eager to set you can hear him and your grandfather banging around in the garage. The sounds creep into your room from the still opened window which you hadn’t bothered to close since Jeongin made his entrance, and don't stop until the sun has secured itself below the horizon and your grandmother is calling you down for dinner. You shout from your open doorway that you’ll be down in a second before gently closing the window.
The entry level of your grandparents farm is quaint, all of the living spaces are relatively squished so as to prevent having to go upstairs each time you want a meal or to sit down. You like it though, it makes it so that each time you come down you can see the entirety of what’s happening. Right now your grandmother is doting over her vegetables that just came out of the oven while your grandfather washes the grease from his hands. The TV is playing an old show with faded color and outdated hairstyles with the volume up ridiculously loud, probably so that your grandmother could hear it as she cooked. You turn it down before taking your spot behind your grandfather at the sink.
Dinner is wonderful, which you expected. Your grandmother has always been a good cook. She carries most of the conversation, your grandfather responding in tired grunts as he scarfs down all of the food on his plate. He always eats like a dog, and your grandmother always chastises him for it, and you always find yourself in the middle giggling at your glimpse of their domestic nature. You can’t help it, they’re too sweet.
Once the table is cleared and the dishes are put away your grandfather offers to turn on a movie for the three of you, most likely to make up for his unresponsiveness during the meal. You agree happily, curling up into the corner of their couch with cushions that are far too fluffy. It almost feels like they could swallow you whole.
You’re not quite sure of what happens after that, because the very next thing that you remember is waking up to the sound of a lawnmower and the scent of bacon being cooked. It appears that you had fallen asleep on the couch, which was inevitable due to the ‘too fluffy’ cushions. Someone had carefully thrown a blanket over you, then propped your head up with a pillow. You’re almost surprised that they didn’t go ahead and put you in your pajamas, too.
“Good morning, Princess!” Your grandmother chimes from where she’s working in the kitchen. The radio that rests on the windowsill is letting out a crackly tune that she occasionally hums along to, but you can barely even hear it over the machine cranking right outside, “That garbage is so loud in the mornings, but don’t worry he’ll be done in one second. Then we’ll all have breakfast. How does that sound?” In most other circumstances you’d be quite upset to be awake so early. Especially since you’re on summer vacation. But today you don’t mind as much.
“That sounds great, should I help set the table?” She dismisses you with a simple wave of her hand, which you’re barely able to see since you’re still laying down, but you feel bad for not helping. She cooked breakfast, your grandfather has probably been outside working since before the sun rose, the very least that you could do is bring something to the table. When you get up to check everything is already set into place, but you put out a crystal pitcher of orange juice and fill each of the cups with ice.
“Now you didn’t have to do all of that!” Your grandmother chides while sneaking up behind you with the plate of bacon. She puts a hand on your shoulder and squeezes gently before taking her seat at the table.
“I know, I just wanted to.” Your voice is still groggy with sleep and just barely even there, but she smiles gratefully at your answer nonetheless. You take your seat, and just as soon as you do the sound of the lawnmower dies completely. It makes you giggle to yourself a little bit, because in all of the years that you’ve been coming here your grandfather has never been this punctual regarding farmwork and meal times. You once waited thirty minutes for him to finish up ‘one last thing!’ before you could eat, “Someone’s hungry today!” Your grandmother laughs a little and rolls her eyes in a ‘what are we going to do with him’ kind of way.
“He always is, you know what they say about growing boys and all of that.” Her statement confuses you, seeing as your grandfather is well past the age to be considered growing or a boy. You just laugh along and let her continue, though, “I really do think that the two of you could be good friends over this summer, he’s a wonderful boy. He’s not exactly hard on the eyes either.” She casts you a wink, but you are so terribly confused that you don’t even know how to respond. You’d never thought of it that way, but surely you were good friends with your own grandfather! And why on earth did she keep referring to him as a boy? He’s three years older than her for pete’s sake!
You’re about to ask what on earth she means when a person enters through the doorway and answers all of your puzzling questions. The person is not your grandfather, to say the least. No, this person is much shorter than your grandfather. His skin is far less weathered, his hair is only dyed to be white, his eyes bear fewer wrinkles when he smiles. He always smiles.
“Is it time to eat, Miss?” The sunlight coming in from the windows catches perfectly onto the gold of his skin, shimmering ever so slightly against the bits that are sweaty. Now that you know what your grandmother was talking about, you can agree wholeheartedly. He is not hard on the eyes at all.
“Yes it is, now get your tail over here so that we can bless this food and eat.” You want to ask where grandfather is, when he’ll be back, if Jeongin will be joining you for every breakfast, but your voice is lodged so deep into your throat that you can’t even try. You’re still just stuck on him. He came in from doing yard work and looks like the object of dreams, meanwhile you’re sitting directly next to him and look like you’ve been hit with the front end of the ‘I just woke up’ stick. How is any of that fair?
You all join hands for prayer, which is a long one since it’s your grandmother. You never mind it though, and you especially don’t mind it today. Focusing on your grandmothers untimely prayer means that you aren’t focusing on Jeongins delicate hand in yours. The lines of his fingers are petite, yet his palms are ridden with callouses. You find yourself wishing that you could trace them. When the prayer finally concludes you pull your hand out of his naturally so as to not raise suspicions, but in your brain it feels as though you’re pulling your hand off of a hot stove.
Breakfast passes in idle conversation, Jeongins speech already slurred with tiredness. He’s apparently been working for four hours already, which he tells you while covering the ice in his glass with orange juice. You glance quickly at the clock on your grandmothers oven to read that it’s currently nine in the morning.
“Do you always start work at five?” He nods in response while drinking from his glass. One of his hands is pulling through his hair, which is still sweaty from the sun outside. Once he put his glass down your grandma makes him get up to wash his hands. Not much else is said, other than leisurely talk about the weather. Jeongin talks a bit about wanting to take a nap when he gets home, and you jokingly agree. He’s on his way to leave when your grandmother stops him and tells you to walk him out.
“It’s alright mam, she doesn’t have to.” His hands are folded cutely in front of him, thumbs twiddling with one another. It makes your heart flutter. Everything about him does.
“I don’t mind.” Your voice is barely there, wavering as it leaves your mouth and enters the space around you. Jeongin finds himself in that moment with a fluttering heart too, and with heat rising to his cheeks the same way that it is to yours. Both of you blame it on the open windows or the summer heat.
“Alright then.” You walk him out, as promised. The air beyond your grandparents front door is stifling to the point where it feels like you’re breathing in soup. You suppose that’s why he looked so sweaty when he came in. You would be too after five hours in this weather. Thankfully the walk to his truck is short. Awkward, but short nonetheless, “I was wondering if I could show you something tonight. You know, so that you can have someone to spend time with.” He says while opening the door of his truck. You find yourself wishing at this moment that you could be confident. That you could flip your hair, or smile flirtatiously, or do anything other than stare at him with wide and terrified eyes. But you can’t. You don’t even know what to say.
“Th-that sounds nice! What time?” He’s climbing into his front seat as you’re asking, which creates a considerable height difference for the two of you. It’d be a bit intimidating if he weren’t smiling down at you as though he expected a rejection.
“Nine, it’ll be better if it’s dark.” Before you can think of anything to say in response he’s in the drivers seat with the engine revved and ready to drive off. You mumble something about how you’ll see him then before hurrying back into the house. There are butterflies running rampant in your stomach, wings beating so quickly that you’re sure it will cause a tornado. Your grandmother asks what the two of you talked about, to which you respond that he’s taking you out later. She thinks that you don’t catch her mischievous grin, but you most definitely do. You’re not sure if you can handle the butterflies beating much faster so you excuse yourself and run quickly up to your room.
The hours pass quickly for some reason, perhaps because you’re excited. You accomplish a good amount of nothing throughout the day, aside from painting your fingernails and reorganizing the layouts of your clothes. At seven, while picking out an outfit, you find yourself wishing that in your dumbstruck state you had remembered to ask Jeongin what on earth you two were doing. Normally it wouldn’t matter that much and you’d just wear whatever you wanted, but being in the middle of farmland made you a bit more nervous. What if he wanted you to go and help in your grandfathers stables? You couldn’t wear anything nice to do that. But there’s also the chance that he could want to go into town, then you’d be in work clothes.
You settled on an outfit at a quarter till’ nine, something that was halfway nice and halfway work clothes. Right as you were lacing up the already dirty pair of sneakers that you brought along there was a soft knocking at your window. You opened it to reveal none other than Jeongin, with his stark white hair and ever present smile.
“Hi. Sorry I’m early, I got excited.” He swings his legs so that they’re in your room and then sits on the windowsill. There’s a light breeze outside, which tussles his hair every so slightly. He looks far less tired than when you last saw him this morning, and much less sweaty.
“It’s okay, we can go now.” The two of you walk through the house, thankfully avoiding your grandparents who would be full of questions, and then to his truck. You don’t ask what you’re doing, it’s not like it matters all that much now. He simply drives into the setting sun and you think of a million conversations to start. All of them fade to nothing the moment that you look at his face.
He parks his truck on the side of a dirt road then gets out, and you think to yourself that he’s probably just checking on the tires or something like that. Until he opens your door and tells you to hurry up. He leads you into the trees that line the road, taking your hand quickly into his own.
“The ground’s a little hard to navigate here.” He explains sheepishly. If you didn’t know any better you’d swear that you saw a blush creeping onto his cheeks.
He guides you through the woods for a short while. It’s not very dense so you don’t mind it all that much, but you do find yourself wondering where on earth this boy is taking you. For the first time all day you worry that he’s going to murder you. You’re just about to ask when suddenly all of the trees have melted away and you’re greeted with the light of the moon reflecting off of an enormous pond. He directs you to the grassy hills that dip into the water and then sits down. His hand is still in yours, you try not to think about it.
“So this is what you wanted to show me?” You ask while running your free hand through the soft grass. The action plucks up a dandelion, which you proceed to twirl absentmindedly in your fingers.
“Yea, I think it’s real pretty at night. You can see all of the stars and stuff.” You look up at the same time he does, eyes immediately being captured by the millions of twinkling lights. It feels like you’ve never seen stars before.
“It is pretty. They shine so much brighter than back at home.”
Yang Jeongin has only known you for one day, but he also knows that you shine brighter than any star in the night sky.
Within two weeks you were spending every evening by the lake with Jeongin. He once taught you how to skip rocks, you showed him how to make daisy chains. The two of you would piece together constellations from the thousands of stars overhead. One night the moon was moving across the water in a way that reminded you of dancing. When you mentioned it to him he sprang up from his spot immediately, offering his hand down to you the way that a gentleman would in a movie. You got up and he asked what your favorite song was, when you told him that you could never pick one he proceeded to make one up. The two of you sang stupid lyrics that didn’t fit with the ones before and danced until you could barely stand. You found yourself thinking that your favorite song wasn’t a song at all, rather a moment where the sounds fit so beautifully that it created a symphony. It was the cicadas chirping, the wind blowing, and Jeongin singing nonsense that was made up so quickly that it couldn’t even be off key. It was the sound of a boy who carted you to a lake after you’d known him for a day. It was the sound of Jeongins hands resting on your hips and your bodies swaying to a song that has no beat. It was the sound of your heart drumming as his gaze covered you.
It was the sound of you falling for him.
tag list: @dreamyyang @charm-art @straytannies
#yang jeongin#jeongin x reader#stray kids#write kpop#kpopscape#stray kids fluff#jeongin fluff#stray kids x reader#admin reid#folklore series#i forgot the taglist when i first uploaded please forgive me loves
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Welcome Home: Spoilt
⚬ Pairings: Jimin x Reader ft Hoseok x Reader
⚬ Genre: Hybrid AU | Romance AU | OT7 AU (eventually) | Fluff | Angst |
⚬ Warnings: Mentions of Death | Mentions of Neglect? | Angst |
⚬ Word Count: 3.6k
⚬ Summary: With you and hobi getting ready to move, Jimin has started isolating himself from you - watching the two of you from afar, as happy as daisies, though as much as he seems to hate your new companion - he can’t help but want to be apart of the family.
⚬ Author’s Note: This is a repost of the second part of the Welcome Home: Series (as I wanted to change some minor things). I am hoping to post the third part very soon, so please stay tuned. You can find the masterlist for my series HERE. And if you would like to be added to my tag list just let me know. (either in the replies to this post or in an ask)
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“Hobi, I don’t know if this is a good idea.” You say softly to the dark haired hybrid - who stands in the kitchen wrapping your ceramics in newspaper before packing them away in a large cardboard box.
“What do you mean? Why the second thoughts so suddenly? I mean, you already put down your deposit on the house and you said if you were going to live anywhere - you wanted to live somewhere out in the country, somewhere secluded.” He responds, stopping his motions of wrapping up kitchen ware moving to sit next to you on the couch. “I thought this was your dream house.” He adds as he sit besides you.
“I thought so too, but when I told Jimin the other day he just had me second guessing some things.” You respond, looking through the photos of the house on your computer.
It really was your dream house.
It was everything you had dreamed of escaping to when you and your ex-fiancee were still together.
“What do you mean he was making you second guess things?” Hoseok asks as he leans his head lightly on your shoulder, looking at your computer as you continue to flip through the photos.
“I don’t know - he just seemed so upset, so betrayed. It just made me realise how heart broken I would be to have to leave him behind. He was my only friend for four years after I moved here - he was always there for me and now I feel like I’m abandoning him.”
You had told Jimin that you decided to move almost six days ago and you hadn’t seen the sassy cat anywhere in the halls - not even on the steps out the front where you drank you coffee every morning. You were almost certain he was avoiding you, and it had started to make you second guess your decision.
A few days after you had told Jimin, you and Hobi had started to pack up your apartment, and as your furniture started to lessen and the apartment was starting to look more empty, you couldn’t help but wonder why the cat was avoiding you.
“I’m just gonna go sit outside for a bit - I need some fresh air.” You say softly to Hoseok, who nods his hand giving your own a tight squeeze as he watches you leave the apartment. He had noticed your routine over the past few days - you would go outside at the same times everyday and sit on the steps waiting hoping to catch a glimpse of Jimin.
Hoseok was always quick to catch onto things - but even he had to admit it took him a while to notice what you were doing. He had been watching you and the cat hybrid interact for months now and had to admit you two seemed to have a connection he didn’t know about.
He could see it in the way Jimin looked at you when you were focused on something else.
He could see it in the way Jimin would bang on your front door - rushing into your bedroom whenever you woke up screaming in your sleep.
It was easy for Hoseok to be jealous at first, to want to keep the two of you separated - all he wanted was to keep you for himself - but something about Jimin gave you so much joy and comfort that he couldn’t dare seperate the two of you. So everyday he would sit and pack things while you waited outside for the pretty kitty.
You would often sit outside for hours before you would give up - no sign of the feline in sight. He always had a way to break your heart without even meaning too. Today was no different - and after waiting out on the steps watching your most recent Korean drama for more than two hours you were about to get up from your spot on the steps and head inside - when a familiar large yellow blanket was draped over your shoulders.
“You really shouldn’t be waiting outside when it’s so cold. At least put a blanket on before you leave your apartment.” The voice you had been searching for, for days finally said from behind you. It took you no hesitation to spring up from your spot on the steps turning to face the hybrid in shock.
“You came? I honestly didn’t think you would’ve come out here at all.” You say looking over the thinning hybrid.
Jimin’s hair was a mess on top of his head, his clothes loose around his body and the large bag under his eyes showed he hadn’t been sleeping very well.
“Yeah, well, some of us are busy.” He says, his tone cold as he avoids your eyes turning to look at the ground instead. “Just start taking better care of yourself.” He whispers, moving to walk back to his apartment.
“Why have you been avoiding me Jimin? I thought we were friends?” Jimin’s head turns down to the ground as you question him, not giving him much time to respond before you add. “Do you not want to be friends anymore?” Jimin’s head whips around as he looks at you in disbelief. His mouth opening and closing a few times as he tries to respond.
“How could you say something like that?” He questions you, his eyebrows furrowing in hurt as he takes a step away from you. He looks you over quickly before scowling.
“How can you say something like that when you’re the one leaving.” He spits, his tail flicking furiously behind him as he continues. “You’re the one leaving me behind - So I’m sorry if I’m not feeling up to being buddy buddy with you and that dog... You promised me you would never leave me behind.” He lets out a sigh before spinning on his heel and rushing off to his own apartment.
“Shit.” You huff, pulling Jimin’s yellow blanket around you tighter as your trudge back to your own apartment.
You really have a talent for messing things up.
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“Maybe talking to him is the best idea.” Hoseok says as he watches you pace back and forth in the lounge room. It had been a week since Jimin had exploded at you, and it had really started to bother you. You had told Hoseok later that night what had happened and why you had come back to the apartment so miserable.
“Well, I can see where he’s coming from. I would probably be pretty upset if you were moving away from me too.” He had told you after your repeated what Jimin had yelled at you before he stormed off. You rubbed your faces in frustration before flopping onto the couch with your face against the cushion - before sighing that you had to find a way to make things right or you wouldn’t know how to function anymore.
You had spent the past few days after your first talk with Hoseok trying to find a way to make up with Jimin - to apologise for making him so upset.
“How can I talk to him, if he won’t come anywhere near me?” You question the hybrid who sits besides you patting your head lightly, like you do when he’s as stressed as you are.
“Maybe you should talk to Mrs Park - she might know more.” Hoseok suggests, the idea finally lighting up a fire in you. Mrs Park - Jimin’s owner - was a very kind old lady and had always been extremely happy to see you come around. Maybe if you asked her to help you win Jimin back he would have no choice but to finally talk to you.
“You’re a genius.” You hum, placing a quick peck on Hoseok’s forehead before rushing to grab your keys off the bench exclaiming that you were running to the store to grab something before heading over to Mrs Park’s apartment. Hoseok just nodded as you disappeared from the apartment leaving him a blushing mess of the couch, as he presses soft fingers the the burning spot on his forehead where you had kissed him.
“God damn that girl.”
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Armed with flowers and Mrs Park’s favourite chocolates in hand you knock quickly on her front door - waiting for a few moments before knocking again. It’s another few minutes before you hear rustling behind the door.
“I told you that I’m packing - I still have another wee— Oh, it’s you.” You’re surprised to see Jimin open the door - his frame somehow looking a little smaller than it had a week ago - his hair still a mess on top of his head. “What’re you doing here?” Jimin asks, looking down at the small care package in your hands.
“I thought I should pay Mrs Park a visit - thank her for everything she’s done for me - Is she here?”
“No.”
“What do you mean no? Is she at a doctors appointment?” You ask - looking behind Jimin at the gloomy apartment. Mrs Park had been in a wheel chair for the past year and never really left her apartment much without Jimin so her not being here wasn’t something you were expecting.
“No.” Jimin answers your question - something was definitely wrong.
“Where is she Jimin?” You ask getting a better look behind him at the empty apartment, two suitcases sitting in the lounge room with Jimin’s clothes spilling out. Jimin steps to the side letting you enter the empty apartment before turning to face you - his face flushed red as he hold back tears.
“She had a stroke two week ago…” He begins, not being able to hold back for much longer as he lets out a soft whine, raising his hands to wipe at the tears on his cheeks. “…She didn’t make it.” He finishes his sentence as you rush forwards wrapping your arms around his neck. He’s quick to wrap his own arms around you letting everything come undone.
“Oh, Jimin.” You coo, patting the hybrids head softly as you try not let your own tears fall.
No wonder he had looked so run down a few days ago.
Mrs Park had gotten Jimin when he was a toddler and had raised him since then - he had practically lost his mother. “It’s going to be alright.” You whisper continuing to rub circles on his back as he tries to calm himself down - his sobs turning into small hiccups. You manage to pull his head from your shoulder as his crying comes to an end wiping the tears off his face softly.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Have you been living here on your own?” You question him, your sadness growing as he lets out a small nod.
“What was the point in telling you - you’re leaving anyway.” He whispers, taking a step back, pulling his face away from your hands.
“Jimin…What about those suitcases?” You sigh at the cat hybrid, motioning to the two bags sitting in the middle of the empty room.
“Mrs Park’s son is allergic to cats.” He says quickly. “He was taking me to the rescue shelter next week.” He adds, his hands clasping in front of him as he watches your mouth fall open - your anger boiling.
“Are you kidding me? Jimin this is something you’re supposed to tell me. Were you just going to wait until I left and suffer on your own?” You snap at him.
“And what could you have done? Legally her son has ownership of me now - he can do whatever he likes. And don’t worry you and your new best friend can still go live happily ever after in the country - Mr Park said that purebred usually get adopted quickly…people like to have purebreds.” Jimin snaps back his tail flicking behind him - his ears pressed against the top of his head.
“Is that what you want? We both know what people do with purebred hybrids, Jimin. You should’ve told me Jimin. I would’ve been able to do something.” You know that yelling at Jimin isn’t fair but you can’t help it. People could be awful and the future of Jimin being a breeding stud terrified you.
“What would you have done?” Jimin prods taking a few steps towards you - so close that your chests are almost touching.
“I don’t know Jimin…”You pause for a moment trying to ignore the tense feeling in the air. “…I would’ve taken you with me. I would’ve tried to adopt you and take you with me.” You add, your words faltering slightly as Jimin continues to glare down at you - both of your breathing heavily and glaring at each other.
Isn’t it funny how quickly things change.
Jimin hands reach for your face without a moment of hesitation - his lips finding yours just seconds later. You can’t help but let out a groan, as your hands find their way into Jimin’s hair, his hands trailing down your body until they reach your hips - gripping them tightly.
The two of you take small steps back - entwined in each other - until your back hits the front door, Jimin’s hands moving from your hips to grip your thighs tightly, lifting them until the sit tightly around his waist, his body pushing you further against the door.
Jimin lets out a low growl as his lips move away from your own pressing small kisses down the side of you cheek until he reaches the small curve where your jaw and neck meets, his sharp teeth grazing the skin lightly. You press your head back against the door, squeezing your eyes shut as you let out a breathy moan - Jimin’s lips moving further down your neck until they press gently against your collar bones. His hands move under your shirt moving gently up and down your sides as he pulls his mouth away looking over you.
“Look at what you do to me.” He whispers, his left hand moving to your cheek to tilt you head down towards his - your eyes opening slowly. His pupils were sharp slits, his hair a mess on top of his head as you run your finger through his white locks. His lips were a bright pink your lipgloss smudged over his lips.
He sends you a small grin with a breathy laugh before leaning forwards and capturing your lips with his once more - this time much softer, the kiss between the two of you seeming to say everything you couldn’t with words. His hands move back to your thighs, gently prying them off his waist so your stand, your feet firm on the ground in front of him. He presses a few more chaste kisses to your lips before parting, pressing his forehead against your own - his eyes tightly closed.
“God…You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.” He whispers softly, as you finally pull your fingers from his hair moving them to gently stroke his cheeks as he lets out a shaky breath.
“Did you mean what you said?” He questions you quietly, his eyes opening slowly his pupils back into the large circles you were used to his gaze watching you closely as you nod - your breathing still ragged.
“Would you still do it?” He asks you next his fingers drawing small circles into the skin on your hips - his attention focused on a small corner right on the edge. “Would you still take me with you? Would you still adopt me?” He adds his own breath hitching as you nod again.
“In a heartbeat.” You whisper with a small smile that Jimin returns before pressing his lips to yours once more.
“God…I love you so much.”
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“What if this doesn’t work?” You question Jimin, who stands by your side fiddling with his fingers, not looking up from the ground.
“It has to.” He answers quietly, giving you an encouraging smile as you knock on the apartment door in front of you. It only take a few moments before the door swings open, a short stocky man standing in front of you.
“Are you Park Myunghoon?” You question, the man gives a quick nod, looking over Jimin with a snarl. “My name is Y/N, I live down the hall - I was a good friend of Mrs Park and her hybrid Jimin.” You say motioning to the hybrid behind you before turning back to the small man.
“I’ve heard that due to Mrs Park’s unfortunate passing and your allergy to cats that Jimin will be given to a rescue centre to be put up for adoption.” The man seems to smirk at the end of your sentence probably being able to guess where you were going with this.
“Listen Kid, I understand the you want to help your friend but the rescue centre already offered me a thousand for him - and they already have a potential buyer.” He says almost dismissing you, but you take a step forwards, somehow being at eye level with the man.
“I can see you’re a smart man Mr Park, but I just feel like only a thousand is such an injustice. With a feline hybrid with Jimin’s heritage and a purebred ragdoll - which are rare in themselves - only a thousand is a rip off. If you sign the adoption papers today I’m willing the offer you two thousand five hundred for him.” You say quietly trying to bargain with the money hungry side of the man. You words seem to work as he looks between you and the hybrid hesitantly. “I have cash.” That seems to be what gets the man to sigh, reaching his hand out impatiently. Jimin steps forwards with a pen and the papers necessary telling the stubby man where to sign before he tucks them under his arms taking a few steps back.
“Thank you for your business, Mr Park. We hope we won’t be hearing from you anytime soon.” You say handing the man a bulging white envelope - before turning on your heel and ushering Jimin out of the apartment building to your car parked on the curb.
“I can’t believe that worked, it just seemed way too easy.” You huff as you slide into the drivers seat, Jimin sliding into the passenger seat besides you.
“I told you - he’s a shallow man - nothing a bit of cash wouldn’t solve.” Jimin says with a large grin - Mrs Park had left some money in case of emergency in Jimin’s name - ten thousand she left for him - and the poor man was too dumb to find a way out of giving Jimin what he was owed.
“I guess we should break the news to Hobi.” You add, Jimin had put his suitcases in your car two days ago - not ever wanting to have to return to his old apartment after the papers were signed - too many memories, too much lost.
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It’s been two weeks since Jimin joined your small family - Hoseok and Jimin seeming to have an unspoken truce and were seeming to be putting up with each other well. The day you broke the news to Hoseok he seemed surprised, he had no idea what the two of you had been planning and the surprise addition to the family made him a bit uneasy.
You didn’t blame him.
He had only been with you for a few months himself but you had already begun changing everything - adding more people, moving house things were a bit hectic for the adjusting hybrid. He had sulked for a few days but came around eventually when Jimin proved himself to be handy around the home, as much as he liked to follow hoseok around and knock things over.
Jimin’s new favourite past time has become annoying Hobi as much as possible. His favourite way seemed to be by being overly affectionate with you. Almost all day Jimin would stand besides you with his hand in yours, his head nuzzling into your neck - a small grin sprouting as Hoseok lets out a scoff.
It doesn’t take long for Hoseok to finally snap, sneaking into your bedroom one night when Jimin is showering.
“Why aren’t you that affectionate with me?” He spits out, as he looks at you reading your latest fantasy series cuddled under your blanket.
“What do you mean?” Your quick to ask placing the book besides you as you sit up further looking at Hoseok in concern.
“You and Jimin cuddle and hold hands all the time, I even saw him try to kiss you the other day.” He responds, throwing his hands up in defeat when you still don’t seem to understand his words. “Why don’t you do that with me…I want to cuddle and hold hands, but you always seems so awkward around me - like you don’t like being near me.” He finally says and you sputter a little trying to hold in a shocked laugh.
“Hobi, you know that’s not true - I love being around you.” You chuckle watching as the boy pouts moving to sit at the end of your bed. “You probably think I’m being awkward cause I don’t want to push you to do something that might make your uncomfortable. I would love to be more affectionate with you, I just want to be sure if that’s what you want too.” You explain and Hoseok seems to relax a little bit, moving closer to you on the bed, taking your hands in his, as his thumbs rub small circles into your palms.
“Have you and Jimin kissed before?” He asks softly, not looking away from your palms not even as you choke on the air your breathing in. You nod slowly as you take in deep breaths.
“Then you have to give me one too.” He says his pout returning on his lips, al you can do is roll your eyes, a small grin spreading across your face as Jimin saunters into the room his torso bare as his towel is wrapped around his waist.
You sigh ignoring the scandalous feline before leaning forwards and pressing a chaste kiss on Hoseok lips, pulling away with a raised brow.
“Happy?” You ask, Hoseok nodding furiously in response.
“Anyway big boy.” Jimin whispers as he leans over besides Hoseok, “We’ve done much more than just a little kiss.” Jimin teases as he walks back to the bathroom with his clothes in hand leaving you shaking your head and denying his claim.
“He’s lying.” You spit out glaring at the bathroom door, not noticing how Hobi’s ears flatten against his head.
���It’s offical…I’m going to kill him.”
“Hobi, No.”
TAG LIST: @littlewolfieposts @sana-b @purplelady85 @btsxdoll
#bts#bts imagines#bts scenarios#bts fanfiction#bts hybrid au#bts smut#hoseok#hoseok imagines#hoseok fanfiction#hoseok scenairos#hoseok hybrid au#hoseok smut#hoseok german shepherd au#jimin#jimin imagines#jimin scenarios#jimin fanfiction#jimin smut#jimin hybrid au#jimin ragdoll hybrid
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the rei brown series (2/3)
OUR LOVE REMAINS.
notes: here’s the second part!! one more after this haha. not much of a plot to these just meant to put you in your feels. butttttt, i did write this from the experience my mom had in the icu when she was a nurse.
this one is your p.o.v. and is a little bit longer but not much
i DID NOT KNOW if anyone would get offended by “latino” or “hispanic” so i used both im sorry.
LISTEN for better understanding.
also u guys REALLY LIKED the din fic so i guess...more of those?
pairing: javier peña x reader
summary: while rethinking all of the choices you’ve made in your life, memories of a certain person begin to flood in.
warnings: MORE ANGST ahahaha, childhood nostalgia, fluff ending
word count: 3.3k (these are not long chapters)
masterlist
you weren’t sure what time it was (you knew it wasn’t too late) and you hadn’t bothered to check as you stumbled through your doorway, one arm holding grocery bags and the other, your purse and papers from work. your hair had been stuck in the ponytail you threw it up in since the morning, but now, it was pulling at your scalp and giving you a headache.
managing to balance on one foot, you flipped the light switch in your entryway and watched as the first floor of your house illuminated in the night. the tiny dog you’d adopted a few months ago came padding out on the wood floors from the dining room, his tongue stuck out with loud pants to relieve himself of the texas summer heat.
with a small “hey, bub,” to your pet, you placed the groceries on the kitchen counter and slipped off your clogs, throwing them at the bottom of your stairs so that you could be reminded to take them to your room when you went upstairs. for now, you reached into the glass cabinet and grasped a dark bottle of wine. the label read a fancy word in french, but growing up in kingsville, you’d never bothered to learn the language of love. you grew up in that rich latino and hispanic culture.
this house had memories threatening to let it crumble, you knew that, but even after your parents had moved into a smaller apartment due to medical reasons and the fact that they couldn’t afford the house, you couldn’t bring yourself to move out of this town and just ditch them there--now the house was in your name. you didn’t know why it was so hard to leave--you’d been able to leave for university, but when you came back the summer after you’d graduated, something stuck. now, it had been twenty years and you had made no attempts to even leave kingsville.
you popped the cork of the wine bottle open and instantly met that musky historic smell of the red alcohol. you had seven wine glasses in your cupboards, but you never had any friends over. you might occasionally invite a few girls you knew in high school, but if you were to hang out with people, it would be at a bar on friday and saturday nights. you watched as the wine splashed around the glass and when it was filled to your satisfaction, you pushed the cork back into its place and left the bottle on the counter.
as you made your way into the living room and collapsed on the couch, the little dog you called yours jumped up onto the high furniture the best he could due to his tiny legs. you searched your couch for the remote, pulling over the cushions and pillows before finding it buried under the arm. you switched the tv on and and flipped through the channels before settling on fifty-one. your dog curled up next to your lap and closed his eyes to sleep.
you didn’t for what you were sure was the next two hours. the movie that had been playing before ended the beginning of a new one had started until you realized your glass was empty and dry and your eyelids were getting heavier. you leaned your head back before rethinking how the day had gone. you’d shown up to the hospital for work at the crack of dawn and spent the next twelve hours wheeling around patients, taking diagnostics, and carrying their dirty dishes.
it definitely had not been the job you imagined when you were ten. you’d played doctor with your stuffed animals and plushes before but in those scenarios, the patients had been obedient in kind. unfortunately, fate had not been so kind and, while sitting in front of the television with an empty wine glass in your hand, your fingers grazing over the sore spot on your wrist. it was sure to be bruised, the one on your calf had turned purple and yellow in the past few days. you hissed when you applied just a bit too much pressure.
i spent four years at a college i hated to have this. you’d put it all on the line to have this job. you thought that by being a nurse in the fucking icu, you’d be saving people everyday. instead, you were groped, spat out, and ignored by everyone there. you deserved a glass of wine every night.
you knew that this was not healthy at all and that you were intoxicating yourself with far too much alcohol but the way your back ached, your calf bruised, and your head pounded drowned out whatever warnings your brain sent you.
suddenly, you managed to catch sight of the atomic clock sitting on your kitchen counter. bright crimson letters read “1:30 am.”, and with a far too heavy sigh that awoke the small dog next to you, you set the glass on your coffee table (you’d grab it in the morning when you weren’t so sad) and flipped the tv off before sauntering up the stairs. even at your age, you had still been terrified of the dark--you could barely walk down to your basement without a flashlight and by yourself--but you found that you were perfectly fine walking in the pitch-black of your upstairs hallway. your dog was quick to follow behind you, jumping onto your bed and waiting for you as you emotionlessly entered your bathroom and looked at your reflection.
who the fuck were you? how much time had passed and yet here you were, in your fucking childhood home all alone? you’d found love with many men over the years, but you hadn’t expected them to last--and they hadn’t. what had you done? had you left some sort of imprint in the world at all? you were never one for kids, everyone you knew was well aware of that, but how were you supposed to live on even when you were dead? in reality, abandonment and loneliness was your worst fear along with--
oh god, you thought in a shriveled voice. you’re gonna be forgotten.
one part that hurt the most was the news. you’d gotten better at keeping up to date with pop culture and politics, and the pablo escobar situation had you worried for one reason and one reason only--javier peña. you’d seen him on the news, the DEA agent who had made it his responsibility and top priority to catch the famous drug lord. it was nice to see that he had gotten somewhere while the only time you’d ever really traveled was to paris for a christmas and then LA to see an old friend who you didn’t even talk to anymore.
this was your life now. mindlessly wandering around your house after work, eating microwaved leftovers and carry-out from the diner.
god, that diner. it had been one of your favorite locations in the shitty town you called home--had been. the first time you went, you were suspicious due to the fact that the actual building was a different restaurant owned by a criminal before it was a diner, but javier had practically begged you to have a late dinner with him after an afternoon spent skipping your last few periods and driving around the outskirts of town in his truck. the wind had been blowing through your hair and you hung your head out of his window, letting your arms wave around, and you could’ve sworn you had felt him looking at you.
that was the moment you were in love with javier peña.
you knew that you had been lying to yourself up until that moment because since the first day you met javier when driving past their ranch and stopping to look at the horses, you’d been in love. you couldn’t even think about how many days were spent writing poetry about him that now seemed stupid and childish. you’d told yourself it was an outlet for your feelings, but you had really written it because you were too much of a bitch to come out and tell javi. maybe that hadn’t been your fault--you’d witnessed, first hand, javier rejecting a girl in sixth grade. you watched her nod and tell him “oh, that’s okay” but then run away into the bathrooms. javier had continued on to tell you about a new foal on their farm.
you remembered the horses. you missed them too. if it hadn’t been them roaming about in the pastures, or the great stallion that caught your attention while on that family car ride, you would’ve never met javier. you weren’t sure if he judged you for it or not, but every time chucho needed help around the farm, and javier was too much of a brat and a teenager to do it, you had gladly offered. so, chucho peña had put you in charge of the foals. there was one in particular, a small one with a white coat, that had piqued your interest. there was a day, one in the middle of the summer if you could remember correctly, where you and javi had just run out to the fields while the rest of the horses stayed in their stables. javi had been excited since his father had gifted him with a new camera, and he had spent all day taking pictures of--and to this day, you still didn’t notice it--only you.
while brushing your teeth, carefully placing a small dot of paste on your toothbrush, you began to scrub in small circles. how long had it been since you and javi had last talked? even then, it had barely been a conversation. a simple exchanged of very few words, a goodbye that went misheard, and that was it. when you had called his home phone the next morning, instead of javi replying like he always did, it had been chucho’s voice instead, muffling an annoyed “hello?” but when he heard the exhaustion and lightness of your voice, he carefully explained that javi had already left.
you hadn’t felt heartbroken--not at first. in fact, there was barely any sadness in that tired head and upset stomach. you were infuriated. how could he? how dare he? he had been such a coward that he couldn’t even say goodbye and it angered you more than you thought it ever would--not that you had ever thought about javier leaving before because he said he wouldn’t even consider it. and now, he had left you alone your fucked up hometown that you’d always told him you hated so much. then, about three days alone without javier (which was something you weren’t used to) you’d realized that there was a large possibility this could’ve been your fault.
had you been a bad friend recent to his leaving? yes, you had been acting distant, but it was due to normal events, such as school and...the fact that you were hopelessly in love with him. it had been harder to talk with senior year ending and college coming up, but you hadn’t never thought he could just turn himself away like that. never.
and not once had javi tried to contact you. he, of course, knew your number by heart, but after all these years, he’d probably had hundreds of girls phone numbers--in fact, you were sure that if hadn’t been a DEA agent hooked with the most dangerous man on the earth, you would’ve expected him to be married already. you had gone to the wedding. you’d seen how the church was decorated, how each and every guest wore plastered smiles--just the idea of seeing javi made you giddy and you’d worn your best dress you could find. even after returning from university, javier didn’t visit or call. you also remembered hearing lorraine sobbing when her groom didn’t show.
javier was not the type of person to stand someone up. you didn’t know what he was like now, but as teenagers, if he ever had a date (which wasn’t often because even if you didn’t know it, he was hopelessly in love with you) he would arrive five minutes early.
the one time javi did have a date, you stayed home and watched one of his favorite movies while crying. you hated to admit that the next day, when he admitted to you he didn’t like the girl that much, you were excited.
suddenly, you remembered how this was completely your fault. you had always blamed javier for never calling or writing, but then you realized that you had never made the attempt either.
“fuckin’ hell,” you whispered and washed off your toothbrush. as a nurse, you didn’t normally cake yourself with makeup, but you did wear the average concealer, mascara, and lipstick or gloss. you took one look at your reflection and noticed that your mascara was currently running. when did i cry? you asked yourself and exited the bathroom, not bothering to remove your makeup.
your room was next door and when you walked inside, your dog was patiently waiting next to your nightstand and- god, did i leave the fucking light on again? you felt like slapping yourself until your head was straight because it wasn’t right to think about someone you haven’t seen in twenty years.
you slipped off your pants, leaving you in expensive panties you’d gotten for no reason at all. you threw off your scrubs, discarding them onto the floor with a light air sound and replacing your shirt with a tank-top. your bed had been so perfectly made that it almost annoyed you. you threw yourself onto your bed and began to rub your eyes. it wouldn’t matter if you messed up the mascara because there was nothing to mess up.
hoping the sleep would rid you of the horrible thoughts, you flipped the lamp next to your bed off and pressed a pillow to your cheek. the small dog at your feet curled up rested his eyes. you did the same.
it would’ve been physically best for your health if you had gone at least six hours of sleeping without any interruption, but one moment in the night, the phone on your nightstand began to blare its ringtone. your eyes shot open and began to burn slightly from a sudden awakening. the sound had scared your dog, who jumped to the ground in protection of whatever the source was until he realized it was the telephone. you groaned with heavy eyelids and looked to the clock. two-twenty five am. as soon as you went to answer the call, it went to dial tone.
more frustrated than before because you really just wanted to sleep, you groaned and flung yourself back into bed. of course, now you were awake.
but then, the phone began to ring again. it had seemed louder this time and your dog barked in the most un-intimidating way possible before you threw a pillow at the spot next to him to get him quiet. you held the phone close to your ear and spoke a tired, “hello?” the line was silent and at first, you were terrified because you could’ve sworn you heard someone breathing. another one of these. “hello?”
part of this was exciting to you. while it was extremely frustrating to be awoken a few hours before you normally rose to get ready for work, your mind was racing during the silent pause between you and this stranger. who could it be? perhaps it was chucho telling you that javier could be coming home, but you cursed yourself for thinking of that man and dismissed the idea. maybe it was your mom calling to tell you how your father had gotten better and, for now at least, the cancer was gone.
“(y/n)?”
―
while the reason behind it remained unclear, you had always loved airports. the cleaning-product smell, the diverse people, the small restaurants, even the feeling of the carpet--or the feeling of that when in an airport, you were going somewhere.
it had always been about going somewhere. javier knew this since fifth grade, that you had always wanted to just leave kingsville, texas. maybe you would move to new york, or philadelphia, or even go to london and paris. they had been silly daydreams due to reading too many of your mother’s travel books, but paris had always looked so nice. maybe even visit mexico--you’d already been well immersed in the culture.
but that wasn’t why you were here. you were here for something that was long overdue.
after the phone call that night, you javier had made sure to call each other every other day at ten o’clock pm. there had been some days where you had to stay late at the hospital or javi was chasing sicarios and didn’t get home until midnight--those nights, you would either fall asleep or just call the next day, but you both had made a good schedule. it definitely hadn’t been the same as when you were teenagers, and you didn’t expect it to be. his voice was much deeper and raspier (you knew it was because of the cigarettes, you could practically smell them through the phone) and his voice wasn’t as...lively anymore. you felt that you couldn’t say much, though, because the years had been rough to you as well.
he had told you everything. your thoughts on how he was living was wrong--he told you of the countless informants and prostitutes, how the colombian sun was definitely hotter than the texan sun and even to him it had made a difference. when you both had too much to drink and were passing back funny stories, his was that he had grown a mustache. you had laughed at that one because if you could imagine the clean-shaved, teenage boy that javier once was with a mustache, it was a hilarious thought.
all-in-all, it had still been painful to talk to someone you knew so well like they were a stranger. at first, you had asked yourself if he’d changed but you caught yourself in the stupid thought. of course, he had changed. it had been twenty fucking years and even you had noticed the faint lines starting to appear around your face.
it had taken almost half a year of phone calls, missed and attended, happy and sad to be where you were now.
the airport bustling had also been one of your favorite things too. the countless and various voices all coming together to make a white noise that was so distinct.
you were standing near the entrance, watching as families reunited, lovers embraced, and yet you stood alone. it had been over ten minutes since when javier was supposed to show. if you were being honest with yourself, what did you expect? he would just appear out of thin air in the middle of a crowd? you hoped the flight from bogotá had been peaceful and well. there hadn’t been any storms passing by, baggage loading problems, or anything that could possibly delay the plane, so there was no reason for javier not to be there.
unless...you began to think and it had been too late to stop yourself from completing the thought. maybe he just didn’t want to.
like when he rejected that girl in sixth grade. like when he left you alone in kingsville. like when abandoned his bride at their own fucking wedding.
suddenly, you felt angry. your blood was boiling, your hands felt hot, the hair on your neck became irritating, and the winter heat of texas began to scorch, even in air conditioning. you ran a hand down your face, feeling two beads of sweat trickle down a path to your chin. your foot, which had been tapping for the past now fifteen minutes turned on its heel as you made your way to the glass doors.
your car was just outside. you wouldn’t even have to walk that far, and then you could drive home, cry yourself to sleep, and call javier about this some other time.
“(y/n)!”
tags: @pascalisthepunkest @javierpenaspinkshirt @gummiishark @cyarikaaa @larakasser @pedropasscals @honeyedspace @talesfromtheguild @absurdthirst
#javier pena#javier pena imagine#javier pena series#javier pena fic#javier pena smut#javier pena fluff#javier pena angst#javier pena x reader#javier pena x you#javier pena x oc#narcos#pedro pascal#pedro pascal imagine#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal fluff#pedro pascal angst#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x oc#pedro pascal character fic#pedro pascal characters#steve murphy#steve murphy x reader#steve murphy imagine
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(Prompts with boxes have been taken, highlighted have been written.)
I have requests and ideas for all of the prompts, so no more requests from this card will be accepted. I’m planning on writing and posting all of these within the month of December and probably a bit into January. If you don’t want to see these stories, block the tag #false bthb, if you would like to be tagged in future stories shoot me an ask!
This prompt got away from me a bit so it’s split into two parts. The prompt comes into play in the second part. Requested by @atlasistryingherbest I hope you enjoy it, the second part will be up tomorrow!
General tagging: @im-an-anxious-wreck (you're gonna be tagged in mostly bthb this month as that's the project I'm working on, so if you'd like this changed to only the multichapter fics or general one shots please let me know. Thank you again for the interest!)
My Sunshine Part 1
Summary: Patton thinks he’s finally caught the break he needs when he finds and falls in love with Roman. Ignoring the warning signs until it’s too late Patton ends up losing more than he had dared to gain.
Warnings: more for part two but story contains human trafficking, implied non consensual sex and starvation
Prompt: Denied food as Punishment
Ships: Royality, Patton x Roman
WC: 4, 166
Patton skirted around another group of students, clutching his rather heavy school bag and trying not to bump into anyone in his rush to his bus. The college campus wasn’t exactly large but the crowds remained a nuisance no matter how small the classes were. Seeing the bus start to pull up to the sidewalk for its hourly trip into the downtown area he quickened his pace, desperate not to miss it again. Thankfully getting to the back of the waiting line with time to spare he took a breath and finally managed to zip his bag closed, hoisting it over his shoulders and looking around to see if he could recognize anyone from his classes.
Having just moved into town for school a month ago Patton didn’t really have any friends yet, just people who would occasionally ask him for a pencil only to not give it back- but that was fine! Whenever he ran out of pencils to give he could just ask them for one and he would know they’d have one since he had given so many of his away. If nothing else he figures a missing pencil was as good an ice breaker as any to start a conversation with somebody.
Lost as he was in his thoughts he immediately snapped out of it when he caught sight of one of the cutest men he had ever seen. Tall, dark and handsome didn’t even begin to cover it when he saw the stranger laugh at whatever the person next to him was talking about and reach up to push longish, curly hair out of his eyes. The stranger seemed to suddenly become aware that he was being stared at, turning his head and somehow immediately locking eyes with an extremely flustered Patton. Offering a king smile and a small wave Patton was sure he turned at least ten different shades of red before he managed to tear his eyes away and trip up the stairs to the bus to plop tiredly in the first empty seat he could find.
Burying his face in his hands he groaned at his own stupidity, lamenting the fact that he had been caught ogling someone he didn’t even know or recognize from any of his classes. He had seemed so nice though, not even seeming fazed at being stared at- though with such a confident air that he seemed to have Patton thought maybe he was used to it by now. All he could hope was that he’d never see the stranger again and if he did he wouldn’t remember Patton as that creepy guy in the bus line who probably looked half dead for as much coffee he consumed to keep up with his life.
Deciding not to dwell on it too much he grimaced as he hoisted his pack up yet again as his stop came into view, dreading another afternoon spent on his feet trying to hear people’s orders and write them down correctly while the general noise of the restaurant made it a challenge to get his own forcibly friendly “Hello, what can I get for you?” to be heard. Shuffling off the bus with everyone else he quickly jogged down the block and around the back of the restaurant he worked at, swiping his apron on in the same motion of throwing his bag down and scooting it under a table and out of the way. Smoothing his hair bag and rubbing what he hoped was most of the tiredness from his eyes he put on his best smile and waltzed his way out onto the main floor, tagging out his shift swift for which he was barely acknowledged before they gestured to a family just getting comfortable for him to service.
Squaring his shoulders and taking one more deep breath he began walking over to them. It was just a five hour shift, he could handle a five hour shift.
-----
He could barely handle a five hour shift.
Frowning down at his bag that contained his barely started on homework his fingers fumbled with the knot of his apron as he desperately tried to work it off. Huffing in frustration he bent his neck painfully to get the top part off and shimmied hip hips while yanking the bottom part until he was finally able to kick it into a wall. Dragging a hand over his face he snatched it up and hung it up rather aggressively before getting his bag and hurrying out the back door to catch the bus back to his run down apartment. The ride was as uneventful as ever but he almost missed it when he finally reached his apartment only to see a corner of an envelope sticking out from under the door that would undoubtedly contain the rent bill he would have to scrape together enough change to meet again.
Although he was grateful to be away from his family and that he had been able to get into college in the first place it was an expensive path in life that he had to work hard at two jobs to maintain, still barely managing to scrape by each month. Since switching campuses to be closer to work opportunities it had only seemed to get worse. If he had a roommate it might be different, at least taking some of the financial burden off his shoulders but he didn’t know anyone in this town enough to ask and he definitely didn’t want to invite people he didn’t know into his life with an ad in the newspaper calling for a roommate- who knew if they’d even pay rent or pick up after themselves or leave his things alone. No, Patton was a little too paranoid for that. Flopping face down onto his couch he wormed his way half under the back cushions and seat cushions until it was just a little too tight and sighed contently, letting his eyes finally drift shut as he gave his legs a rest. His stomach growled not ten minutes later however, making him groan and debate whether making something would actually be worthwhile. Realizing he still had work to do anyway he carefully got up and rolled up his sleeves, wondering if that frozen pizza in the freezer was still good.
A little while later with pizza in one hand and a pencil in the other he worked his way through his math and science homework, stacking them to the side as he made way for the english paper he had yet to start. He was still trying to work through basic classes before he got to...whatever it wsa he would decide he wanted to major in, though sometimes he was intimidated but the already nearly overwhelming workload he had to tell himself it would all be worth it. He just had to smile through it and push through until he came out the other side with a bright a nd shiny degree and an even brighter future. Of course, that optimism could only take him so far as he stared at the book report he was supposed to be at least outlining, a quick glance at the clock telling him that if he wanted to shower, now would be the time if he didn’t want to be late for his stocking job. Working at a warehouse form one to seven in the morning definitely wasn’t ideal but it paid well and it was just enough to keep him floating while he worked his way through school. Wincing as he stood up on wobbly, half asleep legs he dumped his plate in the sink and headed to the bathroom for a quick shower before he had to be at the warehouse for his shift.
Stumbling out of his apartment complex still struggling to get his jacket on he happened to look up and see an unfamiliar car parked across the street. I wonder if someone else is moving in, he thought, squinting in the darkness of the early morning to try and make out details. He thought he saw movement in the drivers side but the beeping of his watch let him know he had a very limited amount of time now to get to where he was going, so turning on his heel he booked it to the warehouse a few blocks down, any other thoughts drowned out by the apprehensionsion of the promised monotony to come.
-----
Patton was dead on his feet by the time his shift ended and he made it back to his apartment. Making side eyes at the couch wit his notes still scattered on the coffee table he shook his head and went down the short hallway to his bedroom instead, peeling off his shirt and pants as he went and flopped onto the box spring, flopping his arm around for his treasured dog plushie before curling onto his side and beginning to snore within minutes. When he woke up to his insistent alarm five hours later he groaned and threw the plushie at the offending machine to no avail. Stretching out his stiff muscles he reached over and pressed the button to get the thing to shut up while rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Another day, another...well just another day really. He had half an hour to make himself somewhat presentable and make coffee, maybe try to scratch out part of that english outline before heading off to class and repeating the daily routine of rushing around and catching quick ten minute naps when he could. Thankful today was Wednesday, meaning he had two more regular days and then Saturday he only had to get through his warehouse shift before he was free for the weekend. He made a face at the dust clinging to nearly every surface in his room.. Maybe he’d use that weekend to clean a bit.
Coffee brewing, face washed and toast wolfed down he did actually manage to get a quarter of his outline done before he had to gather everything up and leave. Taking a thermos of caffeine for the road he made it out in record time to catch the bus, idly noting the car from last night was still parked across the street, though it was clearly empty now. A dark blue Sudan with tinted windows from what he could. Shrugging he went to wait in line with everyone else; what he wouldn't give for his own car.
----
It wasn’t until the following week that he saw the car in a different place, this time parked in front of his restaurant. The only reason he really noticed it was because he had honestly been wondering when the thing would be toed considering it never seemed to leave the same spot from across the street. Shrugging the fleeting interest off he quickened his pace and got his apron on, shimmying the bottom part over his head since he hadn't got the knot undone and bending his neck forward to properly don the front loop. Smoothing himself out while shoving his bag under the table and fishing for his notepad and pen he stretched his face into yet another believable smile and pushed his way out of the kitchen and to his shift switch, only to freeze in place when they gestured to a table with a lone figure sat at it.
This cannot be happening, he thought with dismay. At the table sat the very stranger who had smiled at him after catching him staring last week. He was just as cute as ever and had a relaxed, easy smile on his face that Patton instantly felt himself melt for. Now is not thee time Patton, he scolded himself as he straightened his apron and walked over, palms sweating an embarrassing amount with knees he hoped to God weren’t visibly shaking.
“Hello, what can I get for you?”
The man looked up and his smile only grew wider as he cupped his chin. “Have we met?”
Sputtering, Patton clutched his notepad to his chest as he struggled to string a coherent thought together. He knew! He knew and now he’d get to tell him what a creep he was and-
“I’m certain I would have remembered the name of a person as cute as you if we had.” The man leaned forward practically purring. “Patton is it? That suits you.”
Patton barely heard the other half of what was being said to him, the word “cute” bouncing around in his skull too many times for him to properly concentrate on the actual conversation. He turned his incredibly red face away from the others gaze, not quite sure what to say back, thankfully the man saved him from having to respond by finally leaning back and taking the menu up again. “I’m very sorry, where are my manners? I’m keeping you from your job aren’t I?”
He was but heck if Patton was going to agree with that statement. The kinder he was the more this person might tip, and besides, he actually was very cute especially up close. He didn’t mind a bit of casual flirting especially since the other didn’t seem to have anything against him.
“You’re fine sir! I um- I don’t mind.” That being the closest Patton could get to actually accepting a compliment he quickly moved on. “Are you ready to order?”
“Yes actually! I’d like a chicken sandwich with tomato and a chef’s salad on the side.”
Nodding, Patton looked back up from his scribbling. “And to drink?”
“Water would be lovely.”
Taking the menu, he nodded again. “It’ll be right out sir.”
“Thank you, Patton.”
The use of his name set him on edge for a second but he quickly brushed it aside. He was just being nice, sure maybe overly nice- but this was the first full blown kind of conversation he’d held with someone who wasn't his landlord or boss in weeks. If the stranger wanted to use his name that was fine. He’d just have to learn his!
Busy as the restaurant was in the afternoon he was slightly disappointed he hadn’t seen the man leave but made his way over to the table to start cleaning up while he had a free minute. Lifting the check book his eyes nearly bugged out of his head at the tip that was left. A solid fifty dollar bill lay next to the receipt, and on the latter a phone number was written along with a name.
“Roman.” Patton breathed out. He realized he was holding a third month's rent in his hands, he could get groceries this week...proper groceries! Like...Patton pursed his lips in thought, maybe fruit and vegetables? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d bitten into an apple that hadn’t gone completely soft from sitting in the cafeteria for far too long. With stars in his eyes and a name in his heart he pocketed the tip and went about the rest of his shift in a daze, not even noticing the dark blue Sudan still parkly in the parking lot as he made his way back home.
----
Roman was absolutely charming- in every sense of the word. After their first phone call where Patton had thanked him endlessly for the very generous tip they had been texting and calling nearly nonstop. The flowery, flirty way he spoke, the way he looked at Patton like he was hung on the moon, even the way he said his name like he was cradling something precious, it was almost too much. Patton’s workplace had become a regular place for Roman to eat, always sitting at the same place and getting there seemingly right as Patton’s shift started. Tired still though he was, he found the monotony broken at last by a welcome smile to greet him every day of the week, and he was absolutely living for it.
Patton was ecstatic when Roman asked him on a date the following week, securing Saturday as the day they’d meet up at a different restaurant and hang out. He felt like he was floating, like finally something was sliding into place and everyday that it got close to the weekend just made him even more motivated to finish his shifts and homework so he could talk to the one who had so quickly captured his attention. The days flew by, and when Saturday finally came he rushed through his shift at the warehouse to go home and sleep, wanting to be well rested for his first date in years.
-----
Despite his excitement, Patton ended up oversleeping and rushing in vain around his apartment, throwing together a haphazard outfit consisting of a soft blue, non-work polo and light jeans. Sliding his feet into his usual tennis shoes and running quick fingers through his hair he could only hope that was enough as he ran out of his apartment and down the stairs to the street below. The restaurant wasn’t far thankfully and he was able to jog there in no time at all, hoping he didn’t look like too much of a sweaty mess to the other man who always looked impeccably out together. Spotting him at a table on the far side of the joint next to the windows Patton made his way over and sat down nervously.
“I’m so sorry I’m late! I overslept and I tried to hurry but-”
“Please, don’t worry about it.” Roman lain a hand on top of Patton's leaving him to fight to contain his blush. “I wasn’t waiting that long and besides, this place has a lovely view.”
Turning to look out the window, Patton had to agree. The restaurant had a wonderful view of the local park, families playing with their children or pets as the Saturday afternoon wore on. He watched the families almost wistfully, almost but not quite missing his own as he watched one play hide-and-seek while another helped their child across the monkey bars. He was so enraptured by the sight before him he didn’t notice Roman’s gaze turn calculating before his easy smile slid back into place, placing his chin in his hands as he joined Patton in people watching.
“Someday, when I leave this town, I’d like to be settled with a family like that.” Roman’s voice brought Patton out of his own thoughts, making him turn to his date with a smile. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, I’d like to have someone to take care of and love, and have them love me back. It sounds perfect doesn’t it?”
Patton flicked his eyes away for a second before smiling again. “It does. To be stable and settled down with kiddos, that’s the life I want.”
Seeming to sense his hesitation Roman cocked his head to the side. “Got a bad experience with families?”
“I-” Patton again was slightly put off by the stranger's forwardness and apparent skills of perception but he brushed it aside, finding it nice to be listened to. “My family and I didn’t get along very well I guess. We don’t talk at all now.”
Roman’s eyes flashed as he nodded. “I understand that. My family doesn’t talk to me much anymore either. It happens.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Patton looked away again as the waitress walked over with water and menus. Quietly thanking her Patton skimmed the list of items searching for something cheap. Settling on a club sandwich with a side of coleslaw he closed the menu just in time for the waitress to come back. Taking their orders she quickly left them alone once again, Patton trying desperately to hide a yawn behind his fist.
“Am I boring you already?” Roman said teasingly, and Patton’s face burned in embarrassment.
“It isn’t that I swear I-”
“It’s okay! Tired from work, I take it?”
Patton nodded gratefully and scratched his neck. “I work two jobs with school and I just- I’m a mess.”
Roman chuckled and shook his head. Hardly! That’s quite admirable of you actually, you work so hard for what you have.”
Patton smiled a bit at the table, blush dying down a bit as he breathed. “I guess so yeah.”
“Well I know so!” Patton flinched slightly as he raised his voice but Roman didn’t seem to notice as their food was placed in front of them and they dug in.
“We should really come here more often, this was exquisite!” Patton’s eyes shot up as he heard that. We? More often? Did that mean-
“You think entirely too loud for my liking my sunshine. Please forgive my forwardness, but would you like to do this again sometime?”
Patton beamed at the other man, twisting his fingers nervously under the table. “I’d love to, Roman.”
-----
The next couple months went by in a blur, having dates when they could manage them and extended phone calls when they couldn’t. Then a weekend finally came when they could go out again, deciding meeting at the same restaurant was fine since it was so good last time. Thankfully Patton wasn’t late again, sliding in a chair across from Roman and taking the menu in his hands.
“Hey Roman!’
“Hello my love, it’s good to see that smile again.” Face heating quickly Patton hid his face behind his menu and ignored Roman’s soft chuckles, deciding to order the same thing for simplicity's sake. Giving their orders and receiving their drinks left the two alone and Roman took the opportunity to lean forward with a serious expression, making Patton squirm nervously in his chair.
“Patton, I have something I want to ask you, and you can absolutely say no if you wish to.”
Pressing his lips together Patton nodded for him to continue.
“I know how hard you work, what with two jobs and school on top of that; you’ve told me you sometimes struggle to meet the rent. We’ve been dating for a couple months now and I was wondering, would you like to move in with me?”
Taken aback by the question Patton could do nothing but gape at the other man, silence stretching between them as he tried to comprehend what he was hearing.
“I understand the hesitancy but I feel like it makes more sense. I could pay most of the rent while you contribute the rest, we could trade off making dinner, it’s a bigger apartment I’m sure so you could get out of that run down building. Plus it's closer to your campus so you wouldn’t have to take the bus, and I could always drive you to work.”
“Roman- that’s incredibly generous of you but I can’t ask you to do that.” Declining drove a stake through his heart but Patton was determined to stay firm. He wasn't a charity case, and even if the answers to nearly all of his problems were sitting right in front of him he knew he had to refuse.
“Patton, you aren’t asking, I am.” Roman looked imploringly into his eyes. “You do so much, let me take care of you.”
Biting his lip, Patton looked back at Roman nervously. This was an incredible thing that had just landed right in his lap- he wanted to say yes so badly but what if they didn't work out? If they broke up Patton would be on the street, he didn’t know anyone besides Roman and his bosses and the latter he knew wouldn’t think twice about some poor college student living on the sidewalk. Plus he felt like the relationship was moving so fast, though he didn’t really have much to compare it to other than little high school flings so maybe he was just paranoid. But it was so difficult to keep up with the rent, and if he had the security of Roman- not quite the roommate he had imagined but definitely better, maybe everything was finally looking up.
Squeezing Roman’s hand he took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay. Only if you're sure and I’ll of course help out around the apartment in any way I can!”
“I don’t doubt it my love.” Their food was placed in front of them, as Roman nodded. “We can move you in today if you like. It wouldn’t be too much trouble.”
Smiling giddily Patton nodded. Yes, everything was certainly turning around for the better.
-----
As they left the restaurant with Roman leading him to his car so they could start packing up his apartment, Patton nearly froze on the spot but managed to keep walking like nothing had happened. He climbed somewhat nervously into the car he had been seeing outside of his apartment, outside of his restaurant and even sometimes outside of the rather remote warehouse where he worked. He shut the door to the dark blue Sudan carefully and buckled his seatbelt, pushing the buzzing in his ears aside as he settled in his seat and listened to Roman’s idle chatter.
Everything was looking up. It would be fine.
This work is also available on AO3!
Part 2 here
#false writes#false bthb#bthb#bad things happen bingoo#patton sanders#roman sanders#unsympathetic roman sanders#sanders sides#sanders sides fic
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Just My Type
Bucky x Plus Size Original Female Character: Briar Hawthorne
Chapter Summary: Briar experiences 6° of separation
Chapter warnings: general buffoonery, recreational drug usage (marijuana)
Chapter One: Design Client Anonymous
Briar smirked, pulling her coffee cup from the cabinet. Another night, another Natasha one nighter. Of course, she'd hurried them out as she heard her roommate stirring. She pulled Nat's comically small mug from the cabinet as well and prepped both of their drinks. One sugar for Nat. Five sugars and a heavy splash of Coldstone's Sweet Cream Creamer, for her cup. Briar heard the patter of her footsteps down the steps as she was topping off her mug.
"Morning, Nat." She smiled, sliding the mug over. She grumbled, ruffling a hand through her thick, red hair. Briar settled back against the counter, adjusting the neck of her oversized Manson shirt before grabbing the coffee.
"So...how was last night?" Briar asked. She sipped the coffee, relishing the warm hug now rushing through her bones. Natasha chuckled and downed her mug full in one gulp.
"Let's leave it with, slimy yet...satisfying." Briar gagged.
"Fuck you, you nasty bitch."
Natasha laughed, "I've offered, several times."
Briar shook her head, "I don't fuck where I sleep."
"That doesn't make a whole lot of sense." They heard a voice call. Briar's head snapped over to our balcony door, which was now closing on a very disheveled Clint Barton. His hoodie hung off his frame, obviously torn in a fight. Clint, was a character; the only one of Natasha's group that was ever allowed to meet her. She loved him and couldn't count the number of times he'd shown up, carrying pizza and begging to rewatch Avatar. One time, he'd even brought a dog, Lucky. From that moment on, he'd had a permanent invitation and open door to their place. Other than him, no one had ever been allowed inside the apartment and in the four years she had known Natasha, she'd never met a single friend other than Clint.
For good reason though; living with a semi retired Avenger was dangerous. She never wanted to try and draw more attention to our friendship and home by bringing home extras. Well, high profile extras, according to her.
"No one asked you, bird brain." Brisr smiled. Clint perched himself beside me on the counter, snatching the half full coffee pot from its machine and taking a swig straight from it.
She rolled her eyes and simply took another drink of her own, having learned long ago any war involving coffee was a war that would never be won with Clint.
"Oh yeah, Nat, uhm...Boss wants to talk to you. Says you should probably call him, like...an hour ago."
"So, we arent gonna address the bloodied knuckles and tattered clothes?" Briar cocked an eyebrow and glanced between the two. Nat shook her head, "Probably not. I'm gonna go make this call." A moment later she was gone, leaving poor Briar at the mercy of the blonde coffee fiend.
Clint finished off the remainder of the coffee sitting in the pot and scooted closer to me, bumping his shoulder against my own.
"So, how's work going?" He wiggled his eyebrows, flashing his side cocked smile. laughed, raking a hand through my hair. Her finger snagged into a blue tendril and pulling at it absently while she answered,
"Honestly? It's fine. That's it. I expected a bit more from a high profile firm. I took two cases from the lead designer and one from a coworker at their behest, but, there isn't too much to go around." Briar had switched from a solo home design firm almost eight months before. While being her own boss was pretty much heaven, she needed health insurance and there was no way she could afford those payments on my own. So, she took the newest Senior Designer spot at Legendary Interiors and the rest was history. Even with the small work load currently, Briar was pretty lucky with them. The base pay was substantial and there was always a fifteen percent commission for Senior levels. She had her health insurance and not once had she been asked to remove her piercings, change her hair color, or cover her tattoos.
"But, I'm lucky. So, I don't wanna complain too much. Plus...you should see the room I'm working on now. The case came nameless to me, but, the space is amazing. From what I can tell, I actually have the space to do all of the projects I've come up with. The proposal is being sent in on Monday afternoon. Hopefully..." Briar took a large breath, "its accepted." Clint nudged her,
"You're fantastic, Briar. It will be" He hopped off the counter, putting the now empty pot back into it's holder and held out his hand.
"Show it to me, Smurfette."
Briar laughed at him and abandoned her coffee cup to drag Clint down the hall to the design room. She flipped the light switch and pulled him over to the light table. Rough sketches of a modern penthouse with multiple greenery patches throughout the floorplan lay upon the table, littered with various colored ink marks. Clint sat on the stool and studied them for a few moments, chiding the blue haired woman for biting on her nails whilst he was doing so.
"This is great, B. The greenery you've used is so...oddly placed but, it works."
She squealed, "That's what I was going for. The client is a war veteran with severe PTSD. I wanted him to have the modern space he requested, but...he originally just asked for a little spot in the house to retreat to. But, I put a bunch of spaces around the house. Triggers arent confined to one space. So, why should his self care depend on getting to one specific area?"
Clint nodded along with her rambling, something obviously ticking away in that big brain of his.
She smacked his shoulder softly to get his attention, "Whatcha thinking, bird brain?"
He turned to look at his friend, a shit eating smirk plastered on his face.
"I know whose space you're designing."
________<_________<________<________<_____
Bucky had sent the proposal for a new design over to Legendary six weeks ago. By now, he had hoped to see at least a rough sketch. Except for a few short email exchanges between himself and the Vice President of Design, he had no information on who had taken his project nor, what they were doing with it.
He pulled out his phone and shot a text to Tony,
'You said that design place was the best, right?'
Not a moment later: 'Yes, tin man. Who got your project? Katherine? Jonas?'
'I don't know, Tony. I haven't heard from anyone other than Camille. She didn't give my name to the designer like I asked, which I appreciate, but I don't know whose working on it.'
Bucky managed to fix himself a hot cup of lavender tea before Tony responded with a name and a phone number.
'Her name is Briar Hawthorne. She's been with them eight months and is their newest Senior Designer. Camille gave it to her specially. That's her cell phone number. I had to schmooze for that. Use it wisely, old man.'
Bucky laughed, Tony schmoozing on his behalf was still jarring. But, thankfully, the past decided to stay in the past after the Thanos affair. There was too much to rebuild and too much to cherish now, there wasn't time for wallowing in past mistakes. He sat on his bed, pulling a sleeping Alpine tightly to his side and shot a message over to Briar.
Hopefully, he could get some information on his damn apartment design.
______<________<________<_______<______<__
Briar sat on the balcony, weary eyed, and staring at the text message on her phone. She took another inhale of her joint and leaned her head back against the egg shaped hanging chair she was in. An exhale later she was typing her fifth attempt at a response to him.
She took another drag of the joint and recalled finding out the identity of her client.
Clint had laughed for a good five minutes. Chuckling at the absolute fucking serendipity he was watching unfold. Natasha had come in as he was dying down and as soon as he told her - in a hushed whisper between two very best friends - she had also spent a full five dying from laughter.
Turns out, the client was none other than Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. A.k.a. the Winter Soldier. Natasha had complemented the decision on the multiple greenery spaces for relaxtion and meditation, saying that the Sergeant would like that idea. Clint had teased Natasha about how she couldn't hog their Smurfette anymore, knowing that the team would likely attach themselves to Briar quickly.
She reread the text for the hundredth time.
'Hi, Ms. Hawthrone.
My name is James Barnes, and I am the client whose penthouse you are designing currently. I know originally I asked to remain anonymous but, I wanted to check the progress on the design. I've not recieved any sort of update.
Thank you, again. '
He seemed so formal. Briar was stuck on how to respond, wondering if she should mention Natasha or if she should just be professional.
'Mr. Barnes,
Thank you for reaching out. I apologize that you have not been provided with regular updates but, I can tell you that the draft proposal and cost summary will be available to you on your account dashboard on Monday. I submitted my idea to Camille yesterday afternoon. Please don't hesitate to reach out with any other questions or concerns.
- Briar Hawthorne'
Professional, succinct.
Boring.
She hit send and stuffed the phone down beside her thigh in hopes that the cushion on the chair would muffle the vibrations so she could ignore it should he respond. Briar finished out her joint and pulled another from her cigarette case and lit it up.
She felt the dooming buzz of an incoming message on her thigh and groaned.
It was James.
'Could we maybe meet tomorrow and go over the plans together? I would feel better going over the plans with the actual designer. Not her boss.
And call me Bucky. All my friends do.'
So, they were friends now? She chuckled and settled back into the chair again.
Meeting a client off the clock could go wrong, there was no telling if she'd face repercussions on Monday.
But, the opportunity to present her project on her terms in her words...
'Yeah, sure. I can do a full layout set up on my design wall here at the house. Just text Natasha for the address. She doesn't let me give it out. She's a weird roommate.
And call me, Briar.'
There. She threw it in.
The frustrated groan yell from inside the house a moment later meant that Bucky was quicker on the draw than she would have thought.
_______<_________<___________<_________<__
JMT tag: @sea040561 @heli0s-writes @suz-123
Thank you to you, reading this. Yeah, you. You're awesome.
#bucky x oc#bucky x ofc#marvel#fanfic#plus size character#bucky x plus size ofc#bucky barnes#marvel fanfiction
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i’ll walk through hell with you
chapter 2: i guess truth is what you believe in
read chapter one
read on ao3 here
Amy and Leah visit family, a holiday is celebrated, and illness takes over the Santiago-Peralta household.
december
If there is one thing Amy is certain of, stuck in the car with 97 miles to go and an overtired toddler in the back seat, it is that something must be seriously wrong with her.
No one in their right mind says yes to a family weekend upstate with all siblings and their families nine days before Christmas. Not when it’s a three-hour drive. Not while they’re already left alone to care for their child for the weekend due to a time-sensitive and crucial opportunity coming up in a case Jake has worked for two months. Not when previously mentioned child is recovering from a cold and is ten times more cranky and attention-craving than normal.
Except - apparently - Amy.
She doesn't know what the fuck she was thinking.
She knows some thought went into her plan, such as the idea to drive late at night so Leah could sleep in the car. She simply wishes it could have worked, because right now the toddler is singing Wheels On The Bus for the seventeenth time in forty minutes and Amy feels like her head is going to explode. It's a quarter to ten, over two hours past the kid’s bedtime, and so far she refuses to fall asleep. She's wide awake in her seat, chatting and laughing and singing like there’s no tomorrow. If Amy had as much as a spare drop of energy left -even better, if there had been another parent in the car to focus on entertaining their child - the whole thing would have been adorable, but tonight it’s exhausting above anything else.
“Maaa-maaa?” Leah shouts the word from the back seat, wildly kicking her legs against the back cushioning, and Amy has to take a deep breath before she can reply in a calm tone.
“Yes, baby?”
“Are we there?”
“Not yet, Lee.”
Amy can see the reflection of Leah scrunching her forehead in the baby car mirror. “Why?”
“Because we still have a little way left to drive. We’ll be there soon, I promise.”
“Soon?” Leah shines up, kicking her legs again. “When is soon?”
“It will go faster if you close your eyes for a while,” She tries, using one of the oldest parenting tricks in the book. “I promise.”
“Not tired!” Her daughter responds in her cheeriest voice, and Amy gives herself a mental pat on the back for stifling a groan.
They repeat this exchange about ten times or so before Leah tires of it and returns to her singing. At that point, Amy’s counting it as a win. As much as she loves being this kid’s mom, there are indubitably times - and late-night drives with an overtired two-year-old in the back seat - when she loves it less.
Then Leah falls asleep for the last ten miles of the drive and clutches her arms and legs around Amy like a koala to a tree when she’s lifted out of her car seat and carried to bed, and it’s easier than ever to love being a mom.
-
There’s never an uneventful day with all of the Santiagos in the same house, and it’s not any more relaxing with the extra presence of six partners, twelve grandchildren, and one dog. From the moment Amy and Leah make their way down to the kitchen for breakfast, and the toddler finds out there might be a cookie baking session with grandma happening today, the day is in full swing. Leah joins her in facetiming Jake for a few minutes to say good morning, but after that, Amy barely sees her daughter for more than a split second in several hours.
The chaos is a welcome distraction. She plays Cards Against Humanity with Luis’s teenage daughters and Julian until Simon starts begging them to help him make a YouTube video, and she teaches five-year-old Noah how to draw the perfect portrait of a horse. She reads a story to three-year-old Maisie, and she laughs heartily at the sight of Leah chasing Oscar the Bichon Frise around while yelling Kitty Cat!. For a few, wondrous hours, Amy manages to live in blissful oblivion over the two starkly negative pregnancy tests she unceremoniously shoved in the bathroom trash can before leaving yesterday, and it feels like heaven.
It feels like heaven up until she joins the crew of brothers and partners currently taking up space in the kitchen. Her brother Isaac is parked in the middle of the kitchen couch, feeding the youngest Santiago member, just-turned one-month-old Milo, with a bottle; around him Camila, Luis, Tony and his wife Clara all fawn over and admire every aspect of the newborn’s appearance. Christian, Julian and Julian’s husband Lucas are at the other end of the kitchen cuddling with and doting on the exhausted dog, and Amy silently curses her allergies for making her unable to join them. Simon just brought out his camera in the living room and she refuses to risk another unwilling YouTube appearance, so her only option is to sit down with the team of awestruck baby-admirers.
“You forget how tiny they are,” Luis says, watching the infant with a nostalgic glance in his eyes. “I’ve had five, and you never get used to it.”
“You don’t,” Camila confirms with a small laugh, reaching out to stroke the baby’s closed fist with her thumb and index finger. “Not even I do. I’m shocked every time!”
“I thought I remembered everything from when Maisie was born.” Isaac grins, giving the empty baby bottle to Camila and carefully lifting the infant upright against his shoulder. “But then he comes out, and I think he must be several pounds lighter because surely Maisie was never this tiny, but he was bigger!” He shakes his head. “It’s insane.”
“He’s so cute,” Tony chimes in. “Do you get to sleep anything? I’m nervous about that.” His left hand is resting next to Clara’s on top of her visible baby bump. Amy lets out an audible snort upon hearing about her brother’s main cause for worry, but Isaac just grins.
“You get used to it. It’ll probably be worse for Clara anyway.”
“Great.” Clara grimaces, turning to Amy. “I can’t even sleep now! I either have a baby sleeping on top of my bladder or kicking me in the ribs for the whole night.”
“I remember.” She smiles, thinking back to the few times late in her pregnancy she’d made Jake sleep on the couch only because she couldn’t stand listening to his snoring on top of it all. “It sucks, and then everyone keeps telling you to sleep while you still can and you’re trying not to punch them.”
“Exactly!” Her sister-in-law laughs, tucking a strand of red-blonde hair behind her ear. “At least everyone says it’s worth it.”
“If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t have done it so many times,” says Camila, and Clara looks relieved. “Oh, Amy, you need to hold Milo for a little while! He’s been in everyone’s arms except for yours today. Isaac, send him to Amy.”
“Oh.” She squirms in her seat, a nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach. “It’s okay. I was just going to look for Leah anyway -”
“Leah’s upstairs doing puzzles with Sarah and Samuel,” Isaac explains, referring to David’s two-year-old twins. “She’s fine. You can hold him, Ames.”
“I think I’m good… okay, no choice, I see.” Her younger brother’s already holding out the infant to her, and before she can adjust to the thought, there’s a tiny, yawning baby in her arms.
It’s achingly familiar, yet it feels like it’s been forever.
At first, it’s like every muscle fiber in her body tenses with the sudden awareness that there's a fragile, helpless human in her arms and the weight of terrifying responsibility resting with her for a moment. It's been two years since Amy last held a newborn, and she certainly forgot how breakable they feel when they haven't learned to support their own head. Then Milo lets out a content sigh, his mouth twitching like he's smiling at her, and although she knows he's too small and it's likely just gas, the brief facial expression makes her feel chosen.
She's missed this, she realizes. Noting the classic Santiago baby appearance traits, the head of dark hair and the little button nose, she thinks of countless hours spent holding her own clingy newborn two years ago, and bites her lip when she remembers that she still has no idea when she’ll get to do it again. Milo’s adorable, and Amy's secretly wishing he could stay in her arms forever or she could steal him and take him home with her, but he's also a painful reminder of what she wants most and doesn't have yet.
“He likes you,” Isaac comments, nodding towards the infant. “You and Jake haven’t thought of having another one?”
She freezes at the sound of his question, instantly clueless about what constitutes a good reply. She could tell him the truth, of course, and probably receive a flood of well-meaning advice about the best ways to conceive, but doing so would lead to expectations. Santiagos aren’t known for struggling to have kids, and she’s terrified of handling a hoard of family members subtly trying to figure out whether or not she's pregnant every time they see her. It's enough pressure coming from herself. She doesn't need people adding to it - least of all her family.
“Oh,” she says instead, avoiding eye contact by playing with one of Milo’s fists. “Well, we’re not sure yet.”
“Two years is the best age span between siblings,” Luis chimes in. “We always tried to aim for two years and our kids are super close.”
“Yes, yes, two years is perfect,” Camila agrees, nodding eagerly. “The adjustment is much more difficult when they’ve turned three, or four, and suddenly they’re not the youngest anymore… Sometimes I think Tony never got over his grudges against Simon!”
“I’m telling you, mom, that’s not it, we have a grudge because four years ago he made me do that awful cinnamon challenge that almost gave me an asthma attack and filmed it -”
“Two years is great,” Christian interrupts his younger brother’s story without remorse. “We went for two years between Isabel and Noah and it was perfect. You do want to have more than one kid, right?”
Amy has never wished harder for a baby in her arms to start crying.
She needs to get away, out of the situation where she has to hear and answer these sudden intrusive questions, but Milo shows no signs of waking. She’s stuck with a panicky, claustrophobic sensation in her chest and a forced smile on her lips.
“We do,” she replies to Christian’s question, weighing every word carefully. “We’re just not sure when.”
“No point in waiting,” says Isaac, looking at the baby in Amy’s arms. “I wish we’d had Milo earlier!”
There must be a lack of air in the room, or her allergy medicines have stopped working and are making her react to the dog, because she can’t shake the feeling she’s suffocating. She's feeling trapped even in the spacious kitchen, and although she knows everyone has their eyes fixed on Milo, she can't shake the feeling it's her they're staring at.
She wonders if they're seeing right through her; if they somehow know about negative pregnancy tests of yesterday, or if they can sense her desperation and frustration in the fake smile plastered on her face.
“I suppose you never know,” she answers somehow, heart pounding too quickly. “I, uh… have to go to the bathroom. Do you want to hold him for a little while, Clara?”
Amy senses eyes on her as she sneaks out the kitchen, hurries through the hallway and grabs her coat before heading out and sitting down on the porch, but she can't bring herself to care. She has to fill her lungs with fresh air and get away from well-meaning but prying questions, or she’s going to have a full-on breakdown.
There’s a layer of snow on the ground, too thin for any children or adults to be playing in but enough to give a sense of hope for a white Christmas. She scrapes her fingers through the minuscule ice crystals gathered on the wooden decking, drawing an uneven heart with her index finger and following it with another.
You do want to have more than one kid, right?
She draws a third, smaller heart below the two bigger ones.
You and Jake haven’t thought of having another one anytime soon?
She draws a fourth tiny heart next to the third one.
No point in waiting.
She hides her fist in the sleeve of her winter coat, rubbing it over her drawings and turning them into nothingness. She curses the fact that Jake’s working, that he and Rosa are following up some highly important leads today and their mission would likely be sabotaged if she called and interrupted her husband now, and she curses the fact that Leah’s having the time of her life playing with her cousins and would probably scream in protest if Amy tried to steal her for cuddles.
It’s not too cold outside with her warm coat keeping her comfortable, but she’s still shivering, so she wraps her arms around herself and tries to blink away the tears taking form in her eyes.
She’s aware she’s being ridiculous. Having a baby takes more than a couple months of trying in many, many cases - the majority of them, even. She’s far from unique, yet a sneaking suspicion and vexing anxiety are lingering with her.
No point in waiting.
She puts one hand on her chest and one hand over her stomach, trying to focus on the fresh air flowing in through her nose and out through her mouth, filling and leaving her for each inhale and exhale.
“Just relax,” she whispers to herself, pretending it's Jake's voice saying the words, his unwavering belief that it will all be fine she's listening to.
“Are you sure you’re still my sister? Have you had some kind of personality change?”
“Huh?” Amy almost jumps at the sound of Julian’s voice, bringing her out of her focused breathing and forcing her to look up.
“You’re willingly outside in the cold weather,” he declares, slumping down next to her. “Even with a coat on, that's impressive for you.” She notes that he's only wearing a hoodie himself and seems unbothered by the temperature.
“I needed fresh air.”
“Because of Oscar? I swear his breed is supposed to be allergy-friendly, we researched that stuff in depth. Maybe your allergies are just undefeatable?”
“No, it’s fine as long as I don't pet him.” Amy places a hand on her brother's shoulder, squeezing it. “Oscar’s great. Leah's in love with him.”
“Isn't he amazing?” Julian's grin is comically wide, his eyes sparkling with undiluted pride. “He can sit, and roll, and catch, and play dead if he gets enough candy! Parenthood is incredible. I’m so glad our kids get along.” He doesn't entirely sound like he’s joking, and Amy can't help but laugh at his excitement. “So if it wasn't Oscar, why did you leave?”
“Were you listening to the conversation?”
“Eh, bits and pieces. How so?”
She sighs. “They - mom, and Isaac and Christian, mostly - interrogated me about whether we’re planning to have another baby anytime soon.”
“And you’re not?”
“We are! We’re actively trying for it.”
“Oh! Cool,” Julian nods, scratching the stubble on his chin. “I can get behind that. I wouldn't have anything against reproducing with those Peralta genes either if I could.” Amy elbows her brother in the side at that, probably way harder than necessary, and it makes him gasp in offense. “Hey! It’s just objective facts that he's attractive!”
“I’m telling Lucas you said that.”
“Lucas agrees. Either way - if you actually are trying, what's with the tears and the sudden storming out?”
“I didn't storm out,” she protests, and he gives her a meaning look of judgment as if to say yes, you did. “And it's nothing.”
Julian snorts. “Sure it is.”
“It's not a big deal.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“It's just making me a little stressed is all.”
“A little.”
“Okay, okay, fine.” Amy groans, placing her head in both hands and quickly running her fingers through her hair. There's a knot in the back of it, and she busies herself trying to pull it apart as she speaks. “We are trying. It's just not going very well yet, I guess. It’s making me nervous, and it's not something I want to tell everyone in our family about, because, well… we’re not exactly known for struggling with that.”
Julian is silent, and there’s a moment where Amy wonders if she’s managed the impossible. For all their countless petty fights and differences, Julian has always had a reply to offer her. Sometimes he’s supportive, sometimes questioning, and sometimes he’s all over judging her decisions, but he never ignores her worries when she chooses to confide in him. It throws her off to see him take so long to answer her now, and she watches him twist the white gold wedding ring on his finger absentmindedly while he grimaces.
“No,” he says right as she starts to consider tapping him on the shoulder to make sure he’s conscious. “I guess we’re not known for struggling with anything. Has this… been a problem for a long time?”
“A couple of months.”
“...Is that a long time? I’m not great with this heterosexual business. I’m much better with waiting times for adopting a dog.”
The corner of her mouth twitches. “It’s not that long. But it’s longer when you don’t have a lot of time to begin with.” Julian looks about as perplexed as if she’d been trying to explain the intricate details of quantum physics to him, and she clarifies. “Fertility decreases as you age.”
“Right. Yeah.”
“I’m thirty-nine. Maybe I shouldn't panic yet, but in a year, or two…” Amy shakes her head. “It gets really low. Higher chances of miscarrying. Chromosome variations. Premature birth. You name it. Basically, the sooner I get pregnant now, the better and safer it is for everyone.”
“I see.”
“So there's some time pressure,” she explains further, connecting her hands inside the coat sleeves to eliminate the cold that's started to seep in. “And it’s making me terrified something's wrong with me already. That it's not going to work. That we’ll never be able to have a second kid. I know that's maybe not the end of the world, but… I really, really want it, and I’d be heartbroken if it didn’t happen.”
A pair of stubborn, humiliating teardrops make their way down her cheeks at the thought, and she untangles her hands to quickly wipe them away.
“I’m sure it'll work out, Ames.” Julian's smile is partly sympathetic and partly insecure when he speaks, like this subject is miles out of his comfort zone but he's trying his best anyway. “As you said, two months is nothing, right? Mom was like, 42 when she had Simon. Surely if anyone's got the genes for this, it’s our family.”
“Yeah. It's never a guarantee, though, and I can’t handle their questions. Two years is the best time between siblings,” she imitates in an exaggerated high-pitched tone, and Julian laughs heartily. “As if I wasn’t already pressuring myself about the same thing. But I can't tell them that, because then they’d start asking.”
“Mm, our family does lack all understanding of what privacy is sometimes.” Julian grins. “There are several options even for gay men! Surrogates! Adoption! I read this article in a magazine where a pair co-parented with lesbians!” His shrill imitation tone is awful and hilarious at the same time, making Amy snicker. “I think she was mad at me for weeks after I told her we were happy with a dog. She means well, but it just becomes a lot.”
“Doesn’t get easier when it’s something you already want, either.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“Maybe. I hope so.”
“If not, I’m pro-dogs. They’re pretty much like children, except you don’t have to create a college fund for them. A win-win situation if it weren’t for the fact that owning a dog could probably kill you. But other than that!” Julian stretches his arms over his head, looking mighty proud of himself. “Solid.”
“I’m already busy trying to talk Jake out of buying a cat,” says Amy, massaging her temples at the thought. “But he’s managed to get Leah obsessed with them, so I think I’m losing.”
“That’s why she’s calling Oscar a cat! Wow. Jake’s a genius.”
“Well, that and she’s two. And please don’t ever tell him that, because his ego would literally explode.”
Amy can feel her face going numb from the cold outside, a sudden gust of wind coming at them and making her eyes tear for a new reason. The fact that she’s lost track of time hits her, awakening an uneasiness and a sudden need to get inside and check up on how her daughter’s doing, so she gives Julian a quick, rare hug, and is surprised when he squeezes her back for a long time.
“Thanks for coming out,” she mumbles, and he nods.
“Of course. I just don’t like seeing you cry.”
“Aww, that’s kind of sweet.”
“You look so weird when you do,” he says with a smirk, and she rolls her eyes at the mock insult. “No one should have to see that.”
“Fuck off, Jules.”
“Yep. Now let’s go make sure our kids are still alive and haven’t eaten any couches. Is that a thing with human children too?”
~
january
It’s a good Christmas.
It’s a Christmas where Amy can allow herself some time to relax and unwind, put her worries aside and focus on her family during the ten days both her and Jake manage to garner off work. It’s a long-awaited and dearly welcomed break from early daycare drop-offs, ten-minute-dinners, and infinite planning to make sure nothing is forgotten.
Instead there is time for slow wakeups, snuggling with Leah when she crawls into their bed in the early hours of the morning and giving in to her request of watching iPad in their bed only so they can keep their eyes closed for a little while longer. There's time for late-night conversations over a glass of wine that don't feel rushed because at least they don't have somewhere to be tomorrow, and there's time to properly see friends outside of work for the first time in what feels like forever. They go to dinner at Terry’s house, watch Rosa enjoy the indoor trampoline park even more than Leah does, and they gratefully accept Charles’ offer to babysit their daughter for a night. Amy figures the man has a specific motive in mind, but then Jake suggests they spend the night at a hotel and Leah gets ecstatic at the mention of watching Disney movies with her uncle Charles and Nikolaj, so she ends up saying yes. She’s only human, after all, and she’s not going to neglect the rare and precious chance of a sleep-in.
(The date also times mysteriously well with when she should be ovulating.)
(She does not want to ask.)
Even the yearly Christmas dinner with the Santiagos ends up being survivable. Although there are kids crying, odd snarky comments between Tony and Simon, and Leah outright refuses to wear anything but her sequined dinosaur shirt and glittery tights to the event, things proceed smoothly and Amy’s stress levels remain on the healthier part of the scale. She watches Jake hold and make funny faces at Milo and can feel her mom giving them meaning looks from across the room, but she breathes through it and silently thanks the Universe when Leah chooses that exact moment to climb onto Amy’s lap and ask if they can read one of her new books. Sure, part of her wishes she could be gifting her husband a crafted announcement with a baby onesie and a positive pregnancy test much like the ones she’s pinned on Pinterest, but the tender way he hugs her thank you after he opens his gift and sees the photo book filled with pictures with him and Leah, is more than enough to ease her sorrow. He gifts her a gold necklace with the letters J and L in separate miniature hearts, and when he tells her it’s so she can always be keeping them next to her own heart, she tears up and kisses him so long and ardently that he looks a little dazed, blinking with surprise when they part.
It’s a good New Year’s Eve, too. They spend the first part of the evening at the Holt-Cozner New Year’s Party, listening to their daughter proudly tell every guest she’s going to stay up until midnight, and then they try not to laugh when she passes out the moment she’s in her car seat at half-past nine. Jake and Amy end their year in pajamas on the couch, toasting in champagne just for the sake of it and going right to bed afterward.
Next year we’ll have another baby, she thinks to herself before falling asleep about fifteen minutes into the new year, a new sense of shimmering optimism lingering with her. It has to have worked by then.
January is hell. Everyone knows it, specifically, everyone who’s had children at daycare, because January means no one is healthy and neither Jake nor Amy manage a full week at work without taking time off to care for a sick child or themselves. Amy prays they’ll make it through without any cases of stomach flu, but such seems to have been too much to ask, because she’s woken up by devastating crying from Leah’s room on the one night Jake’s doing a night shift and she knows before the two-year-old’s even started retching.
She doesn’t get any sleep that night.
She doesn’t get any sleep the next night either, because when Leah stops throwing up and Amy feels like she can breathe again when the child keeps some applesauce down and asks if she can watch Doc McStuffins, it only takes three hours before Jake starts complaining about feeling sick.
January must surely be some twisted sort of a joke, she thinks, and disinfects her hands an extra time before she goes to remind her very miserable husband that he’s not actually dying.
It’s only natural, amid the virus-filled havoc, that it takes her a few days to realize she hasn’t gotten her period.
Come to think of it, she is feeling a bit nauseous. The excessive fatigue and emotional imbalance she knows were early symptoms in her first pregnancy is harder to distinguish from the exhaustion after two intense days of caring for poorly family members, but she’s a mom and a Santiago and she categorically never gets sick.
She gives the nausea a day, waiting for it to break out into the same flu Jake and Leah are already victims of, but it doesn’t. It stays the same.
Amy’s never been so excited about nausea in her life.
She waits until Leah’s gone to bed, falling asleep in Amy’s arms on the couch. The two-year-old’s still not quite her energetic, bubbly self and has been stuck to her parents like a needy band-aid for most of the day, and it could have been tiring if it hadn’t also meant lots of cuddles. Right now, though, Amy's arms and back are happy to get a break from carrying the kid around while she lays down next to Jake instead, spooning him and receiving a grateful smile when she starts playing with his hair.
“How are you feeling, babe?”
“Dying. I think I might be dead already,” he groans before turning his head and looking her in the eyes with feigned seriousness. “Please say something nice at my funeral and promise me you'll take care of Charles when I'm gone.”
“You're not dying, Jake.”
“How d’you know?”
“Because you haven't thrown up since last night and you only have a slight fever,” she reminds him, feeling his lukewarm forehead. “You're fine.”
“I am definitely much better with a hot girl draped on top of me,” he says with a smug expression, his hand gently stroking under her old NYPD shirt up her back. She rolls her eyes, because looks haven't exactly been the top priority for the last three days and she's not sure when she last washed her hair, yet Jake never stops making an effort to charm her. “How are you feeling, Ames?”
“Actually, I've been kind of nauseous all day. But I'm not sure it's stomach flu.”
“Huh? What else would it be?”
“I'm thinking,” she presses her index finger to his chest, “maybe I should take a pregnancy test.”
“Oh.” He squints at her. “Why?”
Amy gives him an exasperated look.
“Okay, yeah. But you’ve also spent the last three days taking care of your sick family. Leah was throwing up on us. Are you sure you're not just ill?”
“I have a good feeling,” she insists, because she does - there's a renewed sense of hope and blind faith that perhaps this could be it, resting with her. “And I never get sick.”
“Once again, your daughter was vomiting on you and I'm still convinced I might be dying. This is a brutal virus, Ames.”
“Clearly.” She runs her fingers through his messier-than-usual curls again, and his mouth shapes into a content smile despite his still worried eyes. “I’m still going to take that test, though. In case.”
“In case,” he repeats slowly. “Well, it’s your body.”
“Exactly.” She kisses his forehead. “You get it. I’ll be right back.”
Amy takes these tests with ease now. She’s been doing them two, three times extra following every first negative in a desperate hope for the result to change. False negatives are common, test results are safer the longer after a missed period they’re taken, and there’s no reason not to test an extra time. Long story short, she's becoming a pro at taking pregnancy tests, but so far the single lines and minus signs are staying the same.
She says a silent prayer this one will be an exception.
Plastic cap off, pee for five seconds, plastic cap back on, lay the test flat and wait while trying not to freak out. She manages all steps but the final.
She carries the little plastic stick out to the living room coffee table gently as if it had been made of glass.
“Three minutes,” she informs Jake, and he nods while she sets a timer on her phone. In three minutes, they'll know whether her good feeling is right or dead wrong, and the nausea increases but this time Amy thinks it's nerves.
She doesn't want to stare, but she does anyway, waiting for a second line to appear no matter how faint. Jake sits up next to her, taking her hand and rubbing his thumb over her knuckles, and she manages a weak smile without lifting her eyes from the test.
The timer goes off without a second line appearing.
Amy lifts the test to inspect it closer, but there's not even a hint of anything. She gives it to Jake for a second opinion, and he inspects it just as closely before shaking his head and mumbling a quiet sorry, babe.
She's not pregnant this month either.
“It’s okay, Ames. Three months is nothing.”
She doesn’t realize there are tears in her eyes until they’re trailing down her cheeks and Jake’s hand is there, wiping them away. She presses on his wrist to move it, make him stop because she’s not okay and she doesn’t want him pressuring her to feel anything but the searing disappointment coursing through her veins.
“It’s not,” she says, shaking her head. “I just feel so stupid. I thought I was feeling something.”
“You’re not stupid,” he tells her, and the tenderness in his voice erases her annoyance. “You want this really bad. I do, too, but… well, it’s not my body.”
“Not your body being a massive failure.”
“Hey!” Jake holds up one hand like he’s making a stop motion. “No one talks that way about my wife!”
“Ha-ha.”
“I’m serious! You don’t get to say those things, okay? You know it’s not true.” She hums a doubting sound, and he sighs, placing his arm around her shoulders. “Ames, we’ll just try again. We already did a great job once, and there are moments I wish we hadn’t, because if we didn’t have a toddler in daycare I would be so much healthier… okay, I still don’t regret it,” he adds. “Except maybe the daycare part, because I swear I’m sick all the time.”
“You love our daycare! Without it, you’d never get to eat that Scientology-guy’s chocolate chip cookies at every parent meeting.”
“Fair point. Craig, right? Weirdly good baker. Fine - I guess I don’t regret the daycare either. But you’re about to.”
This time, she’s the one squinting at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Still feeling nauseous?”
“Kind of, why are you… oh, no.”
“Oh, yes. Your immune system isn’t undefeatable!”
“It’s still better than yours,” she counters, and Jake just grins.
“But not undefeatable.”
She gives him a slow nod, trying to hide the despondency on her face as she takes the negative test from his hands.
“I’m just going to throw this away.”
Amy is certain of it when she wakes up three hours later, almost throwing herself out of bed to make it to the bathroom in time - January is officially and unquestionably hell.
~
#my writing#b99#brooklyn 99#brooklyn nine-nine#peraltiago#jake x amy#b99 fic#brooklyn 99 fic#brooklyn nine-nine fic#b99 fanfiction#brooklyn nine-nine fanfiction#jake x amy fic#jake x amy fanfiction#peraltiago fic#peraltiago fanfiction#sorry for being so rude about january don't take it personally if you love january#it's just.. everyone's sick
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When Night Falls (1/1)
2482 words. "Not for the first time, she misses the prison, misses the feeling of maybe, just maybe, being someone who could deserve him". Following the events of 10x16, Carol takes the first steps in fixing what's broken.
Read it on Nine Lives!
It’s dark when they arrive back at the house. Dog is the only one with any energy, eagerly bounding his way into the kitchen. Judith catches the hint, talking to him softly as she goes about getting him some food. RJ is dead on his little feet, and Daryl is quick to realize that getting him to walk up the stairs will be more of a battle than it is worth. He scoops the boy up and continues towards the stairs without losing his stride. Judith follows moments later.
Lydia and Carol trail slightly behind the group, occasionally bumping shoulders as they walk as if in recognition of the rift between them slowly closing. Once they’re at the front door, Lydia shuffles awkwardly for a second as if waiting for permission to go to bed. When Carol simply stares back, she shrugs a quick goodnight, then heads towards the cellar.
“Lydia”, Carol finally calls, and the girl turns back quickly. She needs more, Carol knows. Feeling another wave of guilt rise up on her, she realizes that it’s Lydia that’s been making all the effort here: sitting with her on the stairs, singling her out before they left the hospital, saving her life when she was pretty convinced it wasn’t worth saving at all.
That’s not what this has to be, she had said. Lydia’s too scarred from her mother figure, and Carol can’t let herself love another child as her own. For now, she thinks, this dynamic doesn’t need a name, but it does need more effort on her part.
“Take my room”, she finally finishes. “I don’t want you sleeping down there again.”
“What about you?”, she asks, chewing her lip after the words get out and her heart just clenches Daryl, but she keeps her focus.
“Feeling a bit restless, I doubt I’ll be sleeping for a while.” When Lydia looks unsure, she adds, “We’ve got couches, don’t worry about me. Now get some sleep.”
Lydia shifts again, then walks past Carol towards the steps leading upstairs. She looks back for a second as if wanting to say something, but both of them know there are no words that would help either of them sleep more soundly. Instead, they exchange a tight smile and Lydia leaves.
Closing the front door after her, Carol’s eyes drift around the room as she listens to the last of the fading footsteps. Now alone on the main floor, she places her hands on her hips and lets out a long breath, for the first time in a long time having the sudden rush of gratitude at being alive. She wasn’t lying - she is feeling restless, feeling oddly lost without the feeling of vengeance fueling her. She feels the need to be outside, wading through the woods to catch any straggling whisperers plotting some sort of revenge on their people.
She thinks about just walking through the neighbourhood, seeing where all of the Hilltop’s people have settled, seeing how she can help, seeing if she can fix anything, but then she hears shuffling upstairs and swiftly remembers what she owes to the people of this house. She has spent so long sneaking away from Daryl in hopes of removing him from the situation, she’s fairly sure wandering off now would do little to help their now tenuous bond. Rubbing her neck, she pads over to the couch and flops down.
She hasn’t earned his forgiveness, but for some unfathomable reason she has it. Or maybe, she’s just been given the opportunity to get it back. She knows there is work to do, repairs to be done after all the secrets she has kept from him, but hope is such a precious thing that she has not felt in so long, so the little glimpse of it she has now seems to overpower all her nagging fears, if only for a little while.
Well, you still got me. How, she wonders? How is it possible that he didn’t run, didn’t so much as yell at her throughout all her recklessness? Didn’t hate her for freeing Negan behind his back, for getting Connie trapped or worse? Her need to go and do something helpful flares up and before she can register it, she has gathered her bow up again to go and search for Connie. She catches herself before she can open the door. No more solo missions, she chides herself. Not without telling him. Not without him, she dares herself to think.
Gently, she sets her bow down again, finally taking off her boots as if that will help prevent her from bolting out the door, a physical barrier to suppress her constant need to run.
She hears doors opening and closing, quiet murmurs and a pause of feet at the top of the stairs. She knows he can see her at the door, so she quickly moves to the couch to try to verify for him that no, she is not leaving. She assumes he’s bumped into Lydia, so he knows she won’t be coming upstairs. She realizes that he has been up there for a while, and an RJ that exhausted could not have been hard to put to bed. She wonders if he was waiting for her, and that flare of hope makes her chest feel warm.
Now his footsteps are coming down the stairs, moving quickly but quietly so as not to disturb the rest of the household. She listens as he moves into the kitchen, can hear the sound of water splashing but suddenly her pulse is too loud in her ears to focus on anything else.
Not for the first time, she misses the prison. She thinks of the tip-toeing they did back then, still figuring each other, and themselves, out. It’s nothing like the dance they’re doing now. She misses who she was there. Misses the feeling of maybe, just maybe, being someone who could deserve him.
Her eyes are suddenly burning. It’s the exhaustion, she tells herself for no one’s benefit in particular - it’s not like she truly believes it. But fuck, she is tired of crying.
The room has gone quiet, and Carol wonders if she missed the sound of him descending into the basement. Then, there is a shift in the cushions beside her and suddenly, he is there, sighing tiredly as his body flops like dead weight into a slump on the couch.
She turns her head slightly towards him with eyes still downcast, but can’t bring herself to talk, too scared to say the wrong thing and damage what they have even further. She’s been brimming with apologies, planning the right words their entire trek back to Alexandria, but she doesn’t quite know what to do with them now, in this dark living room. Not wanting to push him, she stays fiddling with the string on her wrist and biting her lip until she can taste blood.
“You ain’t tired?” he asks, and she feels like the flood may break if she opens her mouth so she just shakes her head.
He’s quiet for a while, and she’s committed to following his lead. Still, just this, just sitting in each other’s presence is not new for them, and for a second she can convince herself that this is the same silence that has fallen between them when they’ve come back from a run, too tired to do or say much of anything but still too on edge from dodging danger to sleep.
“You could have told me, you know? All of it.” His voice is so gentle, and it’s a tone he’s used with her before but she can’t quite place it. She once again wishes he would yell at her, blame her for everything, just confirm what she had known this whole time. She hates knowing that she could have made this all so much better if she had just trusted he wouldn’t run. That was her move, after all.
“I know”, she answers, and it’s barely above a whisper.
“Why didn’t you?”
Swallowing thickly to try to hide how close to breaking she is (as if she could hide that from him at this point), she finally finds her voice.
“I knew it was a risk. All of it was a risk. And I know what you mean to everyone here.” She pauses, then allows herself to turn her head, glancing at him as she speaks. “If it backfired, I only wanted it to backfire on me. Better that than have Alexandria questioning its leader - than having something happen to you.”
She sounds too diplomatic when she explains it, as if this were all neat and tidy, as if she were expecting him to say “oh, of course, now I see” afterwards.
Where she can’t bring herself to look him in the eye for more than a few seconds, he is holding her stare, as if challenging her every time she glances away. She knows she can’t keep waiting for him to prompt her - he’s too patient with her for that to yield anything, and she may just be more stubborn than he is.
“Negan was a weapon. I knew he was damaging things here, turning our people against each other, whether he intended to or not. And I figure if he failed, no great loss.” She pauses again, trying to find the words to justify freeing the man who had killed their family and tormented him. “It was never...a moral judgment. I just...I thought it would save us from putting our people’s necks on the line.”
He’s still silent. She doesn’t know if he is mulling over her answer, or if he wants her to continue.
His next question surprises her.
“Why’d you go with Lydia?”
She meets his eye this time.
“What do you mean?”
“When you were leading the walkers to the cliff. Didn’t need to be a two person job. Why’d you go?”
It hits her then, the tone of voice he’s using.
Why’d you go?
He sounds just like he did all those years ago, appearing at her cabin, quietly begging to know why she left. She feels it then - the fear he’d been holding every time he lost eyes on her the past few weeks. She swallows again, trying to regain her composure again.
“I had to make sure she made it out.”
“And you? Were you planning to make it out, or did you just get lucky?”
He knows her too well, sees that she did have the fleeting desire to die finishing this fight, doing one final act that actually did everyone some good and just be done with it all. Instead of admitting any of this, she simply offers, “all we do is get lucky.”
It’s not the answer he deserves. She knows he won’t like the real answer, but she can’t lie to him again. A moment later, she confides, “I’m not sure I would have made it out of there without her.”
More silence. She’s not used to talking this much, not lately, and it’s still not nearly enough to explain everything. This is going to take a while, she knows.
“I brought them to the edge. Lydia was able to pull me back before they brought me down with them.”
He hums at this, but she can’t make out the tone of it. Unsure if he’s satisfied with her answer, she returns a question of her own.
“So what now?”
He shrugs, his eyes leaving hers to stare unfocused into the living room.
“We rebuild. Same as always.”
She wonders if that applies to them, too. Her own fears are loud enough that continuing this conversation seems appealing, if only to drown them out. When she speaks again, she is surprised at how small she sounds.
“Daryl?”
“Yeah.”
“Do we still get to start over?”
She can’t hide it - her voice shakes as she asks it, and she is wrestling to keep her eyes open because she knows a single blink will send tears down her cheeks for him to see. It’s not like she hasn’t been crying in front of him constantly lately, but she wants to show him that she can pull through this, that he doesn’t have to be so skittish around her or be scared she’ll disappear when he’s not looking.
His eyes come back to hers and they stare at each other for a long while. He’s biting his lip, eyes flitting between hers as if he’s really considering the answer.
“Yeah. Yeah, we do.”
She releases the breath she didn’t know she was holding and it sounds like a sob. The restless feeling quickly abates, and when she closes her eyes to clear away the tears, she finds herself struggling to open them again.
“You should get some sleep”, he says, offering her an out but making no effort to move off the couch.
Exhausted, but scared of losing this moment, she too-quickly responds, “I can stay up and...keep talking, if you want, or…”
She can tell he’s grateful at the effort. The corner of his mouth turns up as he takes her in.
“Nah. It’s been a long day. Think some sleep will do us both some good.”
Her enjoyment of his presence is suddenly replaced with guilt as she realizes she’s keeping him up. He’s been holding it together for everyone, especially her, for so long, and here she is, keeping him from sleep so she can air all of her problems for him to listen to. The shame of it must show in her face as he quickly follows up with a reassurance.
“We ain’t gotta fight anymore. We don’t got anywhere to be but here. Least not right now,” he adds, and she knows what he is thinking of. The more he mentions it, the less running away together feels like a pipe dream and her little spark of hope burns brighter. “We’ll just...figure this out day by day, right?”
The swell of gratitude for this man is such a familiar feeling it doesn’t surprise her anymore, but it makes her smile nonetheless.
“Sounds good to me.”
They share one more long look, then he gets up off the couch, tapping her knee as he does, and leaves for the basement.
She falls asleep thinking about New Mexico, and for the first time in a long time, she dreams not of what could have been, but what could be.
#caryl#caryl fic#twd caryl#caryl twd#the walking dead#carol x daryl#daryl x carol#twd spoilers#twd season 10#caryl fan fiction
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Steal Some Covers, Share Some Skin
A/N: This is my entry for Attie’s Challenge Challenge - it seems like an easy prompt but I was trying to hard to shove it into ideas that just didn’t click with me - until this one!
This is also filling my Square for both @marvelfluffbingo and @star-spangled-bingo: Photographer AU
Prompt is “You are home for me now.” and is in BOLD
Pairing: Bucky x Reader
Word Count: 1899
Warnings: fluffy fluff, I had to make a teeny tiny dig at Supernatural (I’m a fan too!), Sam and Nat are thrown in for fun - you have blue eyes, there’s a reason I promise!
Present
Bucky never thought he could be this happy, this CONTENT. He tugged you closer, wrapping both of his arms around you, inhaling the citrus scent of your shampoo still lingering from last night’s shower. You sighed in your sleep and buried your face into his chest.
Six Months Ago
It had started simply enough. You had been running late, with your white chocolate mocha frappuccino in one hand and smartphone in your other hand, talking to your client. You had been too distracted by her voice on the other end when you ran into a hard body. The frappuccino spilled onto your shoes as you swore at your own clumsiness. A pair of hands gently grasped your upper arms. “Are you ok?”
You stared into a pair of stormy blue-grey eyes. Your lips parted wordlessly as you drunk in the gorgeous face in front of you. His forehead was high and regal; the sharp angle of his cheekbones contrasted beautifully with his perfectly plump pink lips. He had a five o’clock shadow that only enhanced his features, rather than detracting. Your fingers itched to grab your camera and just start shooting this magnificent face. You noticed his lips curling and your ears caught up with his words. “Doll, are you ok?”
“I’m fine,” you breathed, a giggle caught in your throat. His voice sounded like an angel, a sexy angel who had abandoned heaven to grace your presence on Earth. I HAVE to stop watching Supernatural, you told yourself. “I’m so sorry about your pants though.” The coffee had darkened one of his pant legs.
He looked down with a grin. “I hate these pants, so I might have to thank you instead.” His beautiful eyes gazed back at you. “Why are you in such a hurry?”
“Job,” you swore and looked at your phone. The previous call had ended at some point; you mentally crossed your fingers this shoot you were heading to would be a quick and easy one. “Can you hold this?” You handed the gentleman the camera around your neck and the equipment bag on your back. You hit redial and listened as it rang.
She picked up on the third ring. “Y/n, what happened? I heard you swear, then the line dropped. You’re still on your way, right?”
“Yes Nat, I’ll be there. Just give me ten minutes, please?”
“No problem!” Nat ended the call.
You turned your attention back to the beautiful man in front of you. You took a deep breath and straightened into your 5’ 2” stature, pulling a business card out of your back pocket. “If you change your mind about your pants, give me a call.” You took the bag back first, then the camera. He startled at your card before allowing a wide grin to take over his face. You mentally rolled your eyes at his glow. How the fuck does a guy get away with being this… it’s unfair.
“Or I could ask you out to dinner?” He didn’t even try to hide the hopeful tone of his voice.
You offered him a small smile. “You could. But I really have to go. Sorry!”
Bucky watched you jog faster in the direction of Central Park before glancing back down at your business card:
“So do I call her?”
“Dude, she gave you her card! Yes! Call her!” Sam rolled his eyes at his friend. “Was she cute?”
Bucky thought back to the encounter. The first thing he had noticed were the blue of your eyes; they reminded him of Steve. Bucky shook his head, knowing Steve was off on his own adventure and that it was ridiculous to compare you to him. Still, there was something familiar… friendly… safe with you, despite the spilled coffee, he thought with a smile. Then he remembered the shine of y/h/c hair that caught the dim sunlight, and the blush pink tone of the t-shirt you matched with pale blue jeans and grey slip-on shoes. “Yeah Sam, she’s beautiful.”
*
Nat corralled her daughter, settling her into the stroller with a squeal. You had spent most of the morning letting the little girl run wild in Central Park’s grass, blowing bubbles that she happily popped, playing with the dogs that approached. Then Nat had suggested they ride the carousel; the picture of mother and daughter brought a smile to your face, and just a small twinge of tears wishing for your own little one. Your favorite picture would still be the large Malamute that had let little Nikita snuggle right up to her; the dog sat perfectly, smiling at the camera while Nikita rested her head on the dog’s back, stroking her fur and saying ‘soft puppy’ over and over.
“So tell me about this guy you drenched with coffee,” Nat teased.
Your cheeks bloomed a light pink, then you groaned when you realized. “I didn’t get his name!”
“Hahaha! Come on! My dearest friend takes time out of her weekend to shoot my wild child, runs into what you describe as ‘a gift from God,’ and you didn’t get his name?! He clearly had you dazzled!”
You stuck a tongue out at Nat. Nikita giggled at the face and did the same to her mom. Nat rolled her eyes, pointing a finger at you. “Thank you for teaching my child that. And you!” She knelt down to smirk at her daughter. “You better do that only at your dad, ok?” The little girl giggled and stuck her tongue out again. Nat laughed and straightened back up. “He’s going to call you; you gave him your card. He can take the hint, right?”
*
Bucky sat out on the balcony, phone in one hand, your business card in the other. He hadn’t been forward lately, due to the prosthetic arm he had lost while serving overseas. But the memory of meeting you, even rushed, had given him a constant smile. You hadn’t brushed off his idea of dinner, but he was still nervous. Sam watched this internal dilemma play out in front of him and decided to help out his friend. Without a word, Sam grabbed the phone and card, dialing, then handed the phone back to Bucky. “You’re welcome.”
“Hello?” you heard the unfamiliar male voice on the other end. You had answered every call in the last three hours, hoping it would be the mysteriously gorgeous guy from earlier. You heard a cough then a more familiar voice came through.
“Hey, that was my friend. He was being…”
“Helpful?” You chuckled. “Is this pants guy? Sorry I didn’t get your name earlier.”
Bucky chuckled at the weird moniker. “Call me Bucky, it’s less wordy than ‘pants guy.’ Did you make it to work ok?”
You settled back into your couch cushions. “I did! Thankfully my best friend understood so it wasn’t a huge issue. It was a fun session; I plan on doing a shoot for that kid anytime someone asks! How was your day? Any other clumsy people spill drinks on you?”
Bucky’s laugh made your stomach flutter. You rolled your eyes as Bucky stopped laughing and gasped. “Nope, just you doll.” You felt the heat on your face, hearing a smack of flesh on flesh on the other end. “Sorry, it slipped. I don’t go around calling everyone doll, really!”
You bit your lower lip to keep from grinning. A five minute conversation didn’t usually bring you this much humor and joy and you wondered if Bucky was thinking the same thing.
“So…” you both said. You giggled as Bucky sighed. “You go first,” he said.
“I was just going to say I’m sorry for getting coffee on you again, but I’m glad you called.” You bit your lip again.
“You should really thank my friend Sam for calling for me! How do you feel about Chinese?”
“Ewh,” was your honest, unfiltered response. “Unless we’re talking about their amazing acrobatics?”
Bucky chuckled. “I was thinking about dinner. Tomorrow. If that’s ok?”
You smiled into the phone. “I feel like it should be me offering, since I did the spilling.”
“No way doll! Damn it, I mean y/n,” Bucky was sure you could see his blush. “Let me try this like a normal person. Y/n, would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow?”
Present
A heavy rain startled both of you out of sleep. You kept your head rested against Bucky’s chest as his arm squeezed you closer. “Morning,” you whispered, dropping a kiss on him. You felt him kiss the top of your head.
“Morning,” his voice still rough with sleep. Then he turned his head to the side and grumbled at the clock. “Nope, afternoon.” He snuggled against you. “There’s no law that says we have to get out of bed though.”
You lifted yourself onto your left arm while your right hand drew lazy patterns over Bucky’s bare chest. The lighting in the room was muddled and Bucky’s hair was a stark contrast to the greys. You reached behind you and picked your camera off the floor, aiming the lens at his prone frame. You heard his groan over the sounds of the shutter as you captured this etheral creature laying in your bed. You giggled as he threw his left arm over his eyes, the metal gleamed as the flash went off. You glanced down at the last picture and sucked in a breath. You laid back down, this time your head resting on his chest, so he could see the shots you took as well. “Babe, this one is just… magnificent! I love the way the shadows fall over your body, and yet your arm… will you let me show this one? Please?” You looked up at him with your big blue eyes.
He kissed the top of your head and wrapped his right arm around your middle as you paged through the others. “If it makes my photographer girlfriend happy and gainfully employed, I’m willing.” You gasped and grabbed a corner of a pillow. “Don’t even think about it doll.” His teasing smile tugged at your heart. You let go of the pillow and instead turned in his grasp and planted a warm kiss to his lips.
“Yup,” the ‘p’ sound exaggerated as you pulled back. “A MUCH better decision.” You glanced at your clock and sighed. “So I guess you’re going to have to head home soon?”
Bucky’s thoughts raced at reasons why he would have to leave your bed, or you for that matter. Steve was gone, having lived the life he wanted. Sam always had plans, or dates, or work, that kept him busy. The thought of his own apartment, without you, suddenly seemed unappealing.
“You’re home for me now,” Bucky said simply. He pulled you into a searing kiss that left both of you breathless. “Doll, if you’ll have me, any place with you is home now.” You saw his watery smile and felt tears prickling in the corner of yours.
“Really?” you whispered. You kissed him softly, feeling like you had hit a million dollar jackpot. The warmth in your heart could have heated your apartment for… ah hell, you thought. You let your hands tug gently on his hair as you kissed him again.
Bucky pulled back to catch his breath and whisper back “Really. I love you.”
FIN
I would love any feedback/reblogs/love in general
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🎵
Ain't nothing please me more than you // Ah, home, let me come home / Home is wherever I'm with you
Home – Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes
The scrapbook was a gift from Keenan, memories pieced together and bound into one book, an anniversary gift after three years together. The cover was a print of an old map in shades of pale blue, yellow, green, and brown. Each page within the scrapbook featured at least one photo; many featured two, all labelled with their respective dates. The margins were filled with stickers and quotes, movie stubs and event tickets, pressed flowers. The gift had made Eva tear up, despite her misgivings about photographs of herself. Photos were uncomfortably like paintings, people frozen in time. But these photos, so familiar and personal, surrounded by mundane tokens of life, didn’t elicit the same discomfort as a portrait.
Eva sat with her knees up in bed, the scrapbook resting on her thighs. Beside her, Keenan and Xavier both slept heavily, Keenan’s chest pressed against Xav’s back, his arm wrapped around Xav. It was well after midnight, and she should be sleeping too, but unpleasant dreams had woken her up. The scrapbook, which she’d already flipped through a half-dozen times at this point, rested on her nightstand. Unable to fall back asleep, she sat up and turned the light beside her on to its dimmest setting, hoping it wouldn’t wake her boys. She opened the scrapbook, flipping through the pages.
Photo: Taken by Xavier. Keenan, on the left in the photo, is squinting his eyes, with his head turned up and his lips pressed together, trying not to smile. His hair is pulled back in a tight, poofy ponytail. He holds a small sandy-tan brown puppy, who squirms as she licks his chin, one ear flopped back, the other flopped forward.
Maggie had been so small then, just a few months old when they adopted her from the shelter. Xav was trying to catch her goofy puppy grin on camera as Keenan held her up. Before he could take the photo, Maggie had jerked her head to the right to enthusiastically give Keenan puppy kisses, licking his chin and trying to lick his mouth, but he turned his head before she could. Over those past two weeks, they’d been diligently telling her “kisses, no bites,” whenever she would nip with her sharp puppy teeth. The training had been effective, minimizing the little tooth marks she’d leave on her skin. But it may have been a bit too effective. She started to overcompensate, licking them any time she felt a burst of excitement. It would be something that would stick with her for the rest of her life. Any time they gave her attention, they could expect her to try to lick them.
Eva smiled, glancing to the corner of the room where Maggie was sleeping next to Cora on the large brown dog bed. She was on her back, with all four legs in the air. Gravity pulled her lips down, showing off her teeth. She looked ridiculous, as usual.
Photo: A selfie-angle photo taken by Xavier. From left to right: Xavier, Keenan, Eva. All three adults have their faces covered with a pale green facemask, mostly dry, with a few splotches still wet. Xavier is grinning, holding his hand up in a thumbs-up gesture. His hair is pulled back into a sloppy ponytail, any loose hairs pushed back by a neon pink headband. Keenan has his lips pushed forward in a kissy-face and he holds up two fingers in a peace sign. His headband is neon green and his hair is in small, tight braids. Eva’s head is tilted down, but she’s looking up. There is a book in her lap. Her hair is braided over her shoulder.
The spa nights had started as a fun way to relax, an excuse to spend time together when their schedules got hectic and stressful. Keenan took Eva to the nearest Lush store and spent what she thought was far too much money on face masks and bath bombs. When the face masks from Lush ran out, they started ordering new ones online, testing out masks both weird and mundane. Though they would’ve loved to have a spa night every week, life didn’t always allow for that, but they made sure to schedule it in at least once a month. They would put on a movie, or a tv show, or just some soothing music and chat as the masks dried. Sometimes they would lay a towel down on the bed and buff each other’s nails, painting on silky coats of polish. Inevitably, Eva would make a comment about Keenan’s nails, which seemed supernaturally perfect, never scraped, chipped, or damaged.
“You compliment my nails now, but you always complain when I cut them,” Keenan had said that night, his fingers spread out as Eva painted on a coat of sparkly green nail polish.
“That is because it is oddly loud and you leave the clippings everywhere, which is gross,” she replied, focusing on the small brush.
“I have thick nails! Havin nails like this isn’t all glamor. When I cut them, the clippings fly across the room,” Keenan argued. “It’s not my fault.”
Eva used the tip of her nail to scrape some wet polish from Keenan’s cuticle. “That is no excuse for being gross,” she said. “Cut them outside, then.”
“So, I have to be banished every time I cut my nails?” Keenan asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“At least I don’t leave my nail clippings in a pile on the nightstand,” Keenan said, rotating his torso to look pointedly at Xavier.
“Why are you implementing me in this?” Xavier asked, with mock offense and incredulity.
“That is also gross,” Eva agreed.
“I’m just here minding my business,” Xav said. “Leave me out of your weird argument.”
“Then do not be gross,” she said.
Xav sighed but shared an amused smile with Keenan.
Photo: Taken by a stranger at Yosemite National Park. From left to right: Xavier, Eva, Keenan. All three wear hiking clothes. Xavier’s hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and his face is unshaven. He wears forest green shorts, a pale blue tank-top, and hiking boots with white socks visible. He wears a gray backpack. Eva wears thick, mid-shin length maroon leggings, a long, gray t-shirt that reaches mid-thigh, black running shoes, and a forest green Yosemite hat. Her hair is in a thick braid down her back. Keenan’s hair is shoulder length in micro-dreads, pulled back. He wears a khaki-colored visor, black shorts, gray sneakers, and a dark green t-shirt. He holds a large black water bottle in his left hand. His right arm is around Eva’s shoulders, his hand resting on her right shoulder. Eva has one arm around Keenan’s waist and the other around Xavier’s waist. Xavier’s has his left arm around Eva, his hand resting on her left hip. All three are smiling, showing their teeth. There is a waterfall behind them.
The three of them had been dating for about two years when Xavier and Keenan started planning the trip to Yosemite. Keenan had been before, years ago, as a teenager with his mom. He had some photos of the trip on his Facebook, which was a mostly forgotten profile, but Xavier, enchanted by all photography, had sifted through the old memories and asked Keenan about them.
The drive to Yosemite from Camp Jupiter wasn’t short, despite them both being in the same state, but given California’s size, the drive could have been much longer. They stayed in a white canvas-sided tent cabin, dusted with dirt and pollen, the wood door and floor painted green. The first day they’d gone hiking, Eva had brought neither sunglasses nor a hat, and had been miserable for the first quarter of the hike, as the rising sun blinded her. She had difficulty enjoying the scenery, as all she could think about was the sunhat she’d forgotten on her cot. As the sun beat down, making her dark hair hot against her head, she had the small comfort of knowing she’d at least remembered to cover her bare skin in sunscreen, giving extra attention to her cheeks and nose.
The boys noticed her squinting, her hand held over her eyes, at the same time, and both reached for their own hats. Xavier beat Keenan to it, fitting the Yosemite hat he bought in the gift shop when they’d arrived on her head.
“I’m okay,” Eva said, reaching to take the hat off and return it to Xav. Xav put his hand on top of her head, preventing her from taking it off. Before she could protest, he’d turned, camera in hand, ready to photograph the next thing that caught his eye.
When they had reached the waterfall, Xavier made Keenan and Eva pose in front of it. He had been standing, reviewing the photos with one eye closed against the sun, when a blonde woman wearing a loud neon patterned top had asked in an accent so stereotypically southern it was almost comical, “Do you want me to take one for you?” She drew out the “oo” in “you.”
Xavier had looked at her blankly for half a second before smiling and removing the camera strap from around his neck, pulling it over his head. The woman frowned at the camera, holding it close to her face with her nose wrinkled and her lip curled up as Xavier explained that she only needed to look through the small opening and push the one button.
“One of them fancy cameras,” she said. “I still use one of them disposable ones,” her laugh was more of a cackle. Once Xavier stood at Eva’s other side, the woman said, “Alrighty, smile y’all!”
Once they returned to their home in New Rome, Xavier edited his favorites of the photos the woman had taken and made one his phone background for three months. It was the same photo that Keenan had decided to put it the scrapbook.
Photo: Taken by Eva on Xavier’s camera. Part of her finger shows in the top right corner. Keenan is asleep on his back on the couch, with Xavier asleep on top of him. His lips are parted and his head rests on a blue and white tie-dye pillow. Xavier’s head rests on Keenan’s chest. One arm is at his side, squeezed against the couch cushion. His other hand hangs over the edge, resting on Cora’s side, who is asleep against the couch. Maggie sleeps on top of Xavier’s back, curled up like a donut.
While Eva had still been in bed that morning, Keenan and Xavier woke up to go on a hike before the sun baked the earth and made the weather unbearable. Xav had taken an online photography class recently and saved up to buy a couple new lenses. He wanted to test out his new equipment and camera knowledge on the rising sun. The photos turned out beautifully, and Keenan and Xavier got to enjoy one of their few summer hikes before the heat could scare them away.
Apparently, the hike had taken up quite a bit of energy, or perhaps they were impacted by the movie they stayed up late to watch the night before, or a mix of both. Once they got home, Eva got started on breakfast, but by the time she was finished, her boys had fallen asleep on the couch. They had been laughing, cuddling together, and petting Cora when Eva had gotten up to cook. In the short time it took her to make pancakes and eggs, they, and both the dogs, had fallen asleep. Maggie knew she wasn’t allowed on the furniture, but she must’ve seen Xavier’s back as the perfect place to settle down for a nap, and had hopped up, managing not to wake him up. It was a scene too perfect not to document.
Photo 1: Taken by Xavier. Keenan sits beside Eva in the left of the photo, his chin popped up in his hand, his elbow resting on the kitchen table as he looks at Eva with a loving smile. He wears a dark blue button-up. Eva wears a black velvet dress with a boat neckline. She wears dark red lipstick and mascara. Her hair is in a low, over-the-shoulder ponytail, in large curls. A round cake with white frosting and pink candles sits in front of her on a white ceramic cake stand atop a navy-blue woven placemat. “Happy Birthday, Eva” is written in red icing in cursive lettering. Eva is looking at the cake with a small smile, her face illuminated by the lit candles.
Photo 2: Taken by Keenan. Xavier stands behind Eva, leaning down so their faces are both in frame. He wears a pale blue button-up, with the top three buttons undone. Eva looks up at the camera through her lashes, smiling wider than in the first photo. The candlelight reflects in her brown eyes.
Photo 3: Taken by Keenan. Xavier sits in the seat that Keenan previously occupied. The candles are blown out. Xavier’s forefinger is pointed a few inches from Eva’s face, covered with a small dollop of smeared frosting. His eyes are squinted and his smile is wide with laughter. Eva’s mouth is open and her eyes are wide with shock. There is white frosting smudged on her cheek.
The three photos were spread across two pages, taken during Eva’s birthday celebration last year. Keenan and Xavier saved up to treat Eva to a night at a fancy French restaurant with a budget out of their usual price range. Opportunities to speak with a native French speaker were infrequent, but the restaurant offered her the chance, owned by a young woman who grew up in France. The food was great, and the company was even better.
When they got home, Keenan had a cake ready from a small bakery in New Rome. Rich dark chocolate with white buttercream frosting, a personalized “happy birthday” wish iced in red. Keenan lit each of the candles as Xavier retrieved his camera from their bedroom. He took a few photos before they left for the restaurant, then placed the camera on his nightstand, waiting for when they got home.
Majority of the photos in the scrapbook were taken by Xavier or at least set up by Xavier, as he was the one with the passion for photography, which meant the photos on their computer hard drives disproportionately featured Eva, Keenan, and the dogs. There were a couple impulsive photos by Eva, taken during moments she wanted to capture forever. A few of the photos, like two of them on the birthday spread, were taken by Keenan, when he felt Xavier really needed to be included in the immortalized memory. Xavier had leaned down beside Eva without complaint, then sat in Keenan’s vacated chair as they sang “Happy Birthday” to Eva.
Moments after the candle were blown out, Xavier swiped his finger through the frosting, eliciting a disapproving “Xavier!” from Eva. Before she could say anything else, he’d smeared the frosting on her cheek and burst into laughter at her appalled expression. Eva impulsively stuck a finger in the frosting and did the same to him, smearing it on his nose. Keenan had then snatched the cake away from them before it could turn into an all-out frosting war.
Photo: Taken by Xavier. The photo is of Keenan and Eva cooking breakfast, their backs facing the camera. The sun pours through the glass-sliding door, giving everything a yellow hue. Keenan is on the left in the photo, at the kitchen counter, looking at Eva. He wears no shirt, only gray plaid pajama pants. The black waistband of his boxers is visible above the pajama pants. His body blocks most of a plastic white cutting board that is covered with chopped fruits and berries. Eva stands at the blacktop stove, gesturing toward Keenan as she speaks, the other hand holding the handle of a black, Calphalon skillet. Beside her, in the far right of the photo, is a silver mixing bowl. At her feet, Cora lays with her head resting on her paws, ears swiveled forward.
Weekend mornings often had more elaborate breakfasts than a bowl of cereal or some toast. Any combination of pancakes, eggs cooked in various ways, hash, bacon, and sausage could be on the menu, with sides of fruit or freshly squeezed juice. Eva usually took the lead, acting as head chef of their home kitchen, with Keenan or Xavier helping. She rarely let both of her boys help, insisting the kitchen would get too crowded with all of them at the counters.
It was the embodiment of domestic bliss. Sunlight filtering into the kitchen as the sun rose slowly through the sky, highlighting the room with a yellowish hue. Two lovers cooking pancakes with their pet at their feet. As Xavier saw it, it was art in real time.
As Eva turned the page again, Keenan stirred beside her, not waking entirely, only partially conscious. Sleepily, he kissed Xav’s bare shoulder, then rolled onto his other side, facing Eva.
“Whattaya doin’?” he mumbled to her.
“Nothing,” she whispered, reaching down to run her fingers through his curls. “Go back to sleep.”
“Hmm,” Keenan hummed. His words barely discernable, he said through a sleepy haze, “Shou’ be sleepin’ too. ‘S late. You okay?”
“I’m fine, amour,” she said.
Eva didn’t want to wake him up enough to talk about her unpleasant dreams. She didn’t really want to talk about the dreams at all, but she knew if she didn’t turn out the light and try to sleep again, Keenan would wake up all the way, wanting to comfort her. With a sigh, she closed the scrapbook, placed it on the nightstand, and turned out the light. She settled down beside Keenan, snuggling closer as he wrapped his arm around her. On his other side, Xav rolled over in his sleep, draping his arm over Keenan’s body.
If she could choose anywhere in the world to be after a bad dream, this is where she would choose. Wherever Keenan and Xavier were. It could be a tent cabin in Yosemite National Park, or their couch where the three of them hardly fit, or the kitchen, singing along to one of Keenan’s Spotify playlists. Or in their bed, snuggled against their warm bodies. Wherever they were, she could find comfort.
#a little bit of an experimental story#me: i'll just write a short thing#me five pages later: hmm oops#keenan ojukwu#xavier menard#eva metsch#my writing#ask games#ot3: let's see the world together#music prompt
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forever isn’t for everyone part 9
Even Alex looks more hungover than usual as we all pile into the bus after the concert, taking our very late night dinners on the go. We’ve got a extra day but there’s press to do there so we leave around three in the morning, on the road again.
Ben and I go over some last minute detail, Lucy having passed on food for sleep an hour ago. My eyesight blurs as I try to keep awake for a few more minutes and Ben rubs at his face. “Being thirty five sucks,” he groans, “can’t drink for bloody shite.”
“You could always cut back,” I tell him.
“And look like an old man? I don’t know how much longer I can do this job. It’s great but rough."
I roll my eyes, going to my bunk and ready for the sweet release of sleep, "get over yourself then. They’re not asking you to party hard with them every night."
I had only gotten up because I’m starving.
Lucy still looks like shit. And so does Ben. But the rest of the crew are already hooked up, watching the telly or some video on their phones. God bless wifi. There’s nothing but desert as far as the eye can tell and I’m struck again by how vast the states are compared to back home.
"Saved you some brekkie Ellie,” Tom says, passing a bag of Mcdonald’s gone cold. I don’t bother to microwave it. Washing it down with soda and not feeling the least bit guilty about it. I’d had a late night.
I change into jean shorts in an attempt to feel more like a living breathing person.
And Lucy shakes her head, face void of any makeup for once, “I’m leaning into feeling like a zombie.”
“Europe’s better,” Ben offers, “travels only a few hours instead of a whole day.”
“I think we’re all just feeling it today,” another techie observes, “but it’ll pass.”
“Burnout,” I utter, knowing it well from uni, “we’re burnt the fuck out.”
“I think this calls for margaritas,” Lucy grins, clearly ascribing to the idea of keeping it going.
I roll my eyes, propping open my laptop and going over the schedule for the thousandth time. There were always last minute additions. Emails I had to go through for time changes and the list of questions that would be asked. Then I had to go cross reference it with the list the boys had drawn up.
Someone draws down the shades, making the noon time sun almost bareable as we leave the city behind. Soon we'll be surrounded by nothing but greenery. Like something straight out of a painting; the colors more lush and vivid under the strong sun then in England.
I scroll through pages of emails. Some are just meaningless platitudes sent by companies, filling time. Others were actual confirmations. I jot down any changes in the calendar, trying to find time to explore Los Angeles. Then it's off to the next country before the festivals kick off.
I didn't even see the statue of liberty.
"Why are they stopping," Lucy asks outload, already pullin out her phone and calling Ben. It was straight a straight drive down to California. No room for stopping if we wanted to get any rest once we arrived.
"Dunno," the driver shrugs, flicking the arrow so that we can pull over as well. "Didn't say anything to me."
Lucy starts on Ben as soon as he picks up. I close my labtop, already factoring in this little stop. It'll put us and hour or two behind schedule depending on why they're stopping. We should still get there by tomorrow morning. And there was a three hour cushion before the first interview.
The boys would have to head straight there.
It was up to Miles and Nick, Lucy wanting to help develope each of the member as individual people and not justin have Miles be the face of all. A hard task when only Miles would answer questions half the time. And they were always taking the piss out of interviewers.
"Somethings wring with the bus," Lucy sighs, "can you call the company?"
"I really fucking hope it's just a quick fix," I grumble, we were only two hours out of salt lake. Enough to make it suck it we have to turn back to get the bus fixed.
"We have an extra day," Lucy notes, as she plops down next to me. "And phone interviews can work. Might even get a few words out of Nick."
"I think it'll only make it worse." I find the number and call.
The sun is setting by the time we make it back to Salt Lake City. A whole afternoon wasted. Some cable or sensor had fried on us.
"I just don't understand," I repeat for the hundredth bloody time, "why you can't just give us another tour bus! It doesn't have to be perfect but we're hours behind schedule."
The pencil pusher, hair long gone grey at the temples, doesn't even look up before replying, "for insurance purposes only this bus is covered. If you'd like to amend the policy you'll have to fill out form H-17 and attach the previous policy statement." Which sounded a lot like horse shit to get more money out of us. The whole point of insurance was to not worry about things like this.
I roll my eyes, backing off the counter. "Thank you," I smile, feeling my eye twitch.
"Any luck," Jaime asks, Ben trailing like a dog behind me.
"None." I run a hand through my hair. The crew, like ants, had finished moving the most vital equipment onto the working bus. Jamie and Nick had run to get everyone food. "I think our best bet is to just let them fix it. They'll have it done my the day after tomorrow and have them met us in LA before we head down to San Diego."
Ben nods. "Fuck it then. We've lost enough time as it is."
"Who goes and who stays," Lucy says, eyes flickering between all the people assembled. We were hardly a large group. Seventeen in total, including the band.
"Us , the band, and the stage tech," Ben answers, leaving no room for arguement. "Sound checks going to be a bitch for you," he tells Nick and Jamie.
"Not if they get to LA early," Jamie retorts.
Ben and I go back in to sign the paperwork.
By the time we're done and back out, Miles and Alex have finally deigned to grace us with their presence. Miles in black skinny jeans and an adidas jumper, glitter still clinging to his hair after the last concert. Alex right next to him, cigarette in hand, as he laughs at something Miles just said, in an old strokes shirt and jeans even as the cold of the desert settles in for the night.
I swallow, my heart lurching at the sight of him.
There goes any pretense that I might be getting over him. I bite the inside of my cheek, following Ben onto the bus as Lucy tells Miles what's going on. Unlike all of us, Miles and Alex had remained holed up on the broken bus, content to smoke week and sleep until we figured things out.
Miles had only come out for some fries and more cigarettes.
Thankfully, I didn't have to move anything. Just have to share a bus with my ex. No biggie.
Lucy glances at me, eyes wide, while smiling thinly.
We pile into the bus, waving the rest of the crew goodbye, but happy to not be the ones that had to sit around and wait.
Taking a seat once more on the couch, I open up my lab-top and start sending emails to try and squeeze in all the interviews in an afternoon instead of over two-ish days. Anything to keep me from having to deal with the Alex situation. Alex who, I couldn't but notice, as I glanced over the rim of my computer, had dark shadows under his eyes despite having slept the majority of the day away.
Miles, like a shark smelling blood in the water, takes a seat next to me, smiling shamelessly. "Not surprised you couldn't bully them into giving us a new bus Ellie."
I raise a brow, "oh what? Was I supposed to fight the man?"
"Might've done the trick," Miles nods, "but they probably looked at you and decided they could get their way."
"Oh fuck you," I scowl, heart not really in it. Writing professional sounding emails was mind numbing work. "Not like crying would've softened up their cold dead hearts."
Miles smiles bitterly, "very true there."
"So we're not stoping until California," Jamie asks.
"No my lad," Miles calls back, "you mum'll have to do without the nice mug from Vegas."
"Amateur," Ben shakes his head.
"Should've just gotten it when we were there," Lucy joins in.
Nick grins. "Cut him some slack lads," he says as he claps Jamie on the back, "Cookie was too busy downing shots to worry about dear old mummy."
I laugh along with them, allowing myself to forget all the complicated feelings I have at the moment. Miles' easy way of worming his way into things, making people feel included as much as he was able to turn around and sink into his own private circle of him and Alex. It was no wonder Miles had brought Alex along.
If not for the fact that I'd spent countless nights watching Miles snog one girl only to go home with another, I'd have wondered. Alex, my gaze flickers to his sleepy eyes, most likely form the weed. Alex I wasn't so sure.
Though I'd spent hours with him, I now felt as though I hadn't known him at all. He'd been so warm and open in the beginning. Though, as I try to recall anything at all about him, I realize anything he'd shared had been surface level. I didn't know anything about his parents, or childhood, or even what his favorite food was. Only that his appetite for music was rivaled by his ability to devour books in a single sitting. That his wardrobe extended into random cupboards.
His dark romantic eyes catch mine. Catch me staring at him like a pathetic lovestruck girl.
I lose myself in all the work that has now piled up.
#Alex Turner#alex turner fanfic#alex turner imagine#alex turner x reader#mine#forever isn't for everyone#yes there was already a part 9 but i rewrote it to head in a different direction#don't clown on me
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Take It Off
Genre: Smut
Pair: Namjoon X Reader
Word Count: 1,670
It was 8:15 pm and you just got home from work. You were so exhausted from running around dealing with annoying customers and you felt like you haven't showered in forever. You kicked off your shoes and threw your jacket on the couch, not worrying about the mess until further notice.
You walked down the hall and into your bedroom, almost crying when you saw your dog, Rapmon, laying on the bed. "Ugh, your so lucky, you get to relax and sleep all day." You walked towards the snow colored furball and scratched his head, and stroked down the rest of his body.
His tail was wagging furiously, clearly a sign that he wanted to play. "Sorry baby, mommy needs to take a shower because I feel gross." You gave him a kiss on the head and waltzed into the bathroom.
You checked the time on your phone, trying to remember if Namjoon said he was going to be late or not. You guys met at a bookstore a year and a half ago, where you actually went to get a book for your friend, but you're glad you went, cause that's when you met him.
When he first brought you to his house, you immediately fell in love with Rapmon. He was just too adorable! You thought it was hilarious that Namjoon became jealous of Rapmon because you paid more attention to his dog instead of your own boyfriend.
You put on some music and hopped into the shower. It felt like an angel's tears soaking up your body because you never felt so relaxed in a shower before. Without realizing it, you have spent an entire hour in the shower. You actually finished fifteen minutes in, but you were too lazy to get out into the cold.
After a long time of procrastinating, you finally got out of the shower, but only to reveal a horrifying sight. There was only a towel. "Fuck, my robe is in the dryer!" You remembered that before you left home to work, you threw your robe in the dryer so it can be ready when you came back, but you forgot, and now you have to use the towel as a substitute.
You dried your hair a bit and you wrapped the towel over you, holding onto the corners so it won't fall off and expose you to the cold. You grabbed your phone and headed out the door.
"You scared the shit out of me!" You yelled, grabbing onto your beating chest.
Namjoon was sitting on the bed, petting Rapmon who was sitting on his lap. He smiled at you with his signature smile, his dimples sinking into his cheeks. You sighed, relieved that it wasn't some intruder, but just your boyfriend. He wore a white puma shirt with a black sweater and white pants. His hair was kind of messy, so you figured he had a long day.
You walked towards the drawer to take out some pajamas, while Namjoon took Rapmon outside of the room. He closed the door behind him, leaning against it. You looked to the side, seeing Namjoon staring at you. "Yes?" You asked him, chuckling to his weird behavior.
"I'm stressed out..." he sighed, rubbing his face. You pouted, "I'm sorry Joonie...but I'm sure things will get better," you reassured him, shooting him a closed lip smile. He crossed his arms, cocking his head to the side like a little boy. You turn towards him once again, his little smile catching your attention.
"What is it?" You laughed, sincerely confused with his sudden change of attitude. "You know what will make me feel better?" He teased, making you curious. "What?" You said, crossing your arms as well. "Taking off your towel."
"Haha, very funny Joonie." You said sarcastically, digging back in your drawer. He slowly crept behind you, getting close to your ear, "I mean it..." he whispered, turning you around abruptly, "Take it off."
You almost choked on nothing, his commanding tone turning you on for some reason. Yes, there were occasions when he was kind of rough, but something is different about him. Like if a strong sexual urge ignited a beast within him. You loosened your grip on your towel, the fabric dropping at your feet.
Goosebumps immediately formed all around your body, the chilly air hitting against your warm body. Namjoon instantly noticed, using both of his hands to rub your arms. "Don't worry, I'll warm you up real quick."
He took a step back, admiring your body. You still get kind of embarrassed when he looks at you naked, so you crossed your arms to cover your chest. He shook his head, amused at your shyness. He marched towards you, attacking your lips. You shrieked, his quick actions catching you off guard. His hand was holding the back of your neck, guiding your mouth with his, while he held your waist with the other. Since he was taller, your head had to be tilted upwards, tiptoeing with your feet to reach him.
He twirled around, guiding you towards the bed. You scooched further into the mattress, his body hovering yours the whole time, not letting go of the hungry kiss. Your fingers dug into his scalp, gently tugging on his purple locks. He leisurely traced his full lips down your jawline to your neck, leaving a trail of hickeys towards your chest.
You couldn't help but let out a quiet moan, savoring the feeling of his soft lips on your skin. He traced his fingertips down your body to your thigh, hooking his hand under your knee and bringing it up to the side of his waist.
After a few minutes of teasing, you decided to bring matters to your own hands. You nudged him off of you and pushed him down into the cushions, hovering over him this time. You attacked his neck, biting into the soft tissue. He gave out a soft grunt, making you smile into the nape of his neck. "Sit up." You ordered, biting your lip.
Without noticing, you automatically became the dominant one and made Namjoon the submissive. "Take off your sweater." He swiftly took off his black sweater, throwing it on the floor. You grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it off of his head, throwing it behind you.
"I thought I was the one making you 'take it off' not the other way around," he teased. "Well, you said I was the only one who was going to make you feel better," you explained, lowering down to his legs. "So I'm going to make you feel better," you cooed, unbuckling his pants.
He hoisted himself up with his arms, watching your every move. You yanked his pants and briefs down, revealing his sprung up member. You firmly grip his shaft, pumping slowly. He hissed at the feeling, throwing his head back. You circled your thumb around his slit, teasing him as he did to you. "Stop teasing," he breathed out, making you smirk. You traced the tip of your tongue from the bottom of his shaft to the red tip, finally taking him whole.
"Fuck..." he panted, his chest heaving up and down at the pleasure. You watched his body squirm at the feeling that your mouth was doing to him, making you feel content. But enough was enough and you wanted in on the action.
You let go of him, making him groan in annoyance. "Sorry, Joonie, but I need my pleasure too." You hovered above his crotch, aligning his member to your entrance. "Wait!" He shouted. "What?!" You yelled back, tired of the inconvenience. "We need a condom," he said urgently. You grunted in annoyance, "I'm on the pill. So shut up and let me ride you."
You slowly sank down his dick, moaning at the sensation of him stretching you out. He also felt the ecstasy of being inside of you, his hands gripping both sides of your hips. You had your hands on his stomach to keep you stable, finally moving at a stable pace.
Your eyes were closed shut, trying to feel him as much as possible. When he got impatient, he started slamming you down into his pelvis, making you yelp. "Ahhh-mmph," you cried, using one of your hands to grope your breast. He loved the sight of his dick disappearing inside of you, but he especially loved seeing you squirm on top of him.
The overwhelming feeling of bliss and the incredible sight of you melting into him was enough to send him to the edge. "I'm cumming..." he said, almost about to give in. You leaned forward, looking fiercely into his eyes, "Cum inside me Joonie."
With your last words, he gave in and exploded inside of you. A few seconds later, you came, giving out one loud groan. You slowly rode out your orgasm, coming down from your high. You collapsed next to Namjoon, moving the hairs stuck to your forehead out of the way. "Fuck baby didn't see that coming.." he laughed, giving you a peck on the forehead.
"Damn it Namjoon," you said, laughing in pity, "Now I have to take another shower." He gave out a cute chuckle, bringing you in for a hug. He rubbed his forehead against yours, "Nah, let's be filthy together." "Ew! Joonie!" You snorted.
You soon heard scratches on the door, "Fuck it's already 10:00 pm" he said, when he checked the time, "It's Rapmon's bedtime." He ran to the drawers and quickly put on some shorts, throwing you one of his oversized shirts.
Namjoon opened the door, Rapmon quickly running inside and jumping on the bed. "Hey, baby, ready to sleep with mommy?" He barked excitedly, spinning around in circles. Namjoon hopped into the bed, giving both you and Rapmon a kiss on the head.
"Good night babe."
"Good night Joonie."
"Good night Rapmon." We said in unison, the adorable furball barking back in response.
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The Most Amazing Woman I Know
I live four hours away from almost all of my family. I drove home right before I closed on my house because my grandmother was having some health issues and was waiting on a plan of action for a cancer diagnosis. I spent a weekend with her before returning to my life up north (work, house closing, moving, etc). I had to move but as soon as that was done, I jumped back in the car to return on Friday evening. Her prognosis was decided to be not good and the doctor said two weeks a week ago.
When I got here, I found my grandmother in a fugue and my mother exhausted. She’d been staying with my grandmother, trying to keep her comfortable. Things got worse on Saturday and we made a late-night call to her Hospice nurse to ask for advice. This morning my mother and I decided that what we said we’d never do was inevitable. My grandmother needed to go Hospice House to be cared for by professionals during her final day or two in this life. She was restless and in pain and unresponsive. We were having to drug her with crushed up pills dissolved in water and injected into her mouth when she was unaware. I told my mom that all of my grandmother’s personality was gone and this body was there in her place. We left her with my uncle for the night. My mom went to her house. I came back to my grandmother’s house. I sat in her kitchen chair (the only chair she ever sat in at this table) to write this.
My heart is broken and I’m so upset with the unfairness of everything. My grandmother raised me like she was my second mother. I lived with her for weeks at a time when I was a kid and teenager. I lived with her when my life fell apart in 2009 and I ran back to my hometown to lick my wounds. I cannot imagine a world in which I can’t pick up my phone and call her. The idea is scary and physically hurts.
All I’ve been thinking about lately is the past and all the little things about my grandmother that made me who I am. So, let me count the ways.
- Her name is Sue. Actually, that is her middle name, but she never went by her first name. She is 76 years old and married my grandfather when she was 15 years old. He was 16 and they went strong until he passed away 8 years ago.
- She lived in Florida and New York, but never called any place but West Virginia home. She was born and raised here and loved it more than any other place in the world.
- Whey they first married, she and my grandfather worked at a canning/jarring factory and would steal cans of peaches and stewed tomatoes so they couldn’t go hungry. They lived in a chicken coop that was converted into a one-room apartment.
- She had my mom when she was 16 and used the top drawer of a dresser as a crib because they didn’t have any money to buy one.
- Despite not having a high school diploma, she became a business owner. She and my grandfather opened a convenience store in their neighborhood, and she ran it and kept the books. Later in life, she started a mini-storage business and ran it from her home.
- When I was a kid, we’d “go to town” on Wednesday afternoons in the summer. I’d help her shop and she’d buy me McDonalds for lunch.
- When I was a teenager, I’d do her dishes and laundry every Saturday morning for $25. I’d promptly use this to buy a CD or two. I know she thought that was crazy, but she never said a word or questioned me about it.
- She loves John Deere everything and painted all the metal windmills and flowers in her yard “John Deere green and yellow.” Oh, she had metal lawn ornaments. Like, eight foot metal sunflowers that she paid way too much money for, but loves.
- She loves Christmas and always went crazy with decorations until the past few years. When I was a kid, she bought an animatronic Santa Klaus from a department store and put it in her second-floor picture window with a display worthy of a department store window. She also loved the movie Ernest Saves Christmas and would watch it every year to get in the Chistmas spirit.
- She and my grandfather had a camp in the mountains and they loved spending time there. I sent a restoring two weeks there when my relationship ended back in 2009. She invited me to come with them and I spent two weeks helping her around the camp and reading books and she never once made me talk about my heartbreak because she knew I didn’t want to.
- She loves yard sales and garage sales. We’d go on Saturday mornings when I was younger and she’d buy me anything I wanted.
- She also bought me a Prince CD and let me listen to it on the way home when I was a teenager. She was absolutely scandalized, but pretended not to hate it because she knew I loved it.
- She’d flip people off in traffic, but there wasn’t a mean bone in her body.
- I always told her she was too nice. She’d give anyone anything if she had it to give. I thought some people took advantage of that kindness, but they never once fooled her. She knew, but she still gave.
- She has a motherfucking red magnetic sheet on her fridge because she loves red and wanted a red fridge. When she couldn’t find one, she slapped a magnet on the damn thing.
- Before she got sick, she spent her winters making dollhouses. There is a house, a Christmas cabin, a church, and a barn. She bought an action figure of a professional wrestler and made a white robe for him. She decided that he would be Jesus and she put him in the yard of the barn scene with some superhero action figures as his disciples.
- Right after my grandfather passed away, she created a Facebook account and would tell everyone good morning almost every day.
- I’d randomly get shit in the mail from HSN or QVC because she’d be watching and decide I needed whatever they are selling. One of the recent random gifts was a fancy umbrella.
- She has “wall tattoos” all over her walls. They are large nature scenes that you rub into the way like a temporary tattoo, except they are permanent. The guest bathroom as a doe and her fawn with birds and butterflies. That’s the scene you get to look at while she pee.
- Anytime I ever needed money or help, she’d offer before I even thought to ask. It wasn’t even a question. If I needed it, then it was mine.
- She was always deathly afraid of dogs all my life. When I moved back to my hometown with my dog, she insisted I stay with her. She immediately adopted my dog as her “granddog” and loved him like her own. When my grandfather passed away, she and I went back into their bedroom and lied down on the bed with my dog and cried. It broke my heart, but that was nothing compared to this heartbreak of losing her.
- Speaking of my dog. She bought a red bench to put under her kitchen window so he could see outside when he came over to visit with her. And he absolutely adored her for it.
- She is less than five feet tall, but with a personality much bigger. She loves fringe and red and bejeweled purses and things I lovingly refer to as “gaudy.”
- Her final wishes that she wrote down for my mom include: her wish to wear a red fringe shirt but NO red lipstick, lots of balloons instead of flowers because she hates the smell of flowers since they make it difficult to breathe, and a birthday cake with one candle on it.
- When my grandfather died, she asked me to photoshop a picture of him holding up some trout he had caught while fishing into a stock photo of a stream. Not knowing her intention, I did what she asked. The next thing I knew, she had taken the photoshopped pic to a custom graphics shop in town and asked them to put it on the hood of her vehicle. So, the hood of her car is my grandfather looking proud of his catch. She parks it right outside her kitchen window so when she has her morning coffee, he’s right beside her.
- Speaking of her morning coffee. She used to tell me she needed to get up so early because she needed to drink a pot of coffee and smoke half a pack of cigarettes before she could deal with people.
- She loves the Hallmark Movie Channel and almost exclusively watched it at night. She’d settle in on the same end of her bright red couch and chain smoke Winston Lights while she watched cheesy romance movies. When I got back here this evening, I sat down in that spot. The cushion dips down and is worn in on that cushion. I stayed there and felt the dip under my ass and cried so fucking hard because she’s never going to sit there again.
- When I told her that I caught people having sex in the alley by my office a year ago, she told me, “Well, you know what they say. Friday is for paychecks and peckers.”
I wanted to be alone after this exhausting weekend filled with people. But now that I’m alone in this space surrounded by her, I wish someone was here with me. I wish I had someone to call, but I can’t think of anyone at this time of night that I wouldn’t be bugging.
There are so many other things I could say about her and how amazing and fun and quirky and kind and loving and strong she is. And how much it hurts to know I’m losing one of the most important people in my life. I guess I should go wash the tears off my face and try to sleep. I’m running on fumes. I’ve had about five hours of sleep in the last two days. I want this to get easier, but I also don’t want to forget her.
I’m not going to proof this shit, so I hope if you’ve made it this far that you’ll forgive my errors and typos. And I hope you think about my grandma and how awesome she is.
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My Best Friend’s Girlfriend Pt. 2
A Kim Jiwon x Reader Scenario
Genre: Angst
Word count: 4,300+
Summary: You’ve always said that you’re happy for him…But do you mean it?
Part 1
(A/N: This is long overdue and I appreciate everyone’s patience. Just about everything I write is in some way inspired by true events/emotions in my life. This week my Jiwon actually married his Soomi. So I figured there would be no better time to finish writing this part than right now. It is currently 2am and I have been working on it diligently for the past five hours. I am very tired, still sad, but I am truly happy with this. I hope you all enjoy.)
One Year Ago…
You could barely breathe. One hand worked to stabilize your drink while the other flew to grip your stomach. It was aching with a familiar pain that has only ever occurred in your life when you’ve been near Jiwon. Both of your bodies were erupting with laughter.
A night like this was nothing out of the ordinary. You’d spent it enjoying dinner with him and his family, cracking jokes and reliving your oldest memories, before lazing around in the living room with him and his brother playing video games and drinking beers. The two of you were now slouching comfortably, having abandoned your controllers to try to get a grip on your breathing. After several minutes of cackling and refusing to make eye contact with each other, you’d successfully fought off all the muscles that had clenched in your abdomens and the tears that had filled your eyes. At this point, you couldn’t even remember what was so damn funny in the first place.
“Ok. Ok.” He chuckled a few last times as he wiped his eyes to look at you again. “I’ve got a serious question.” He had slouched so low in his chair that he gained nearly four chins just trying to see you, making you giggle some more.
“What’s up?” You’d shaken off the last bit of laughter to sit up and take another sip. The amount of booze already in your system prevented you from being too caught off guard by the sudden change in mood. He didn’t respond right away. He just looked at you and smiled to himself.
You furrowed your eyebrows. “What? Come on, you can’t just say that and then not ask me anything.”
He readjusted to a more comfortable upright position. “Have you ever connected like this with anyone else?” His expression muted to a sincere smile, keeping eye contact while yours morphed into one of subtle confusion. You chuckled a bit. “Wh-What?”
He laughed back. “It’s a legit question. Have you ever connected like this with anybody else before?”
You stared back at him. “I mean, Jisu is the first person to come to mind. Her and I are really close.”
“I think you know what I mean.” He looked down at the beer in his hand.
You paused. Though your cheeks flushed bright red, you were thankful in that moment that your ears couldn’t visibly perk up like a dog. “Jiwon…”
“Forget it, I’m sorry.” He waved his hand in your direction before sliding it across his face. “Oh shit, where’s my phone?”
You gestured silently to where it had fallen under the coffee table. Your mind was still on his question, but you played along and changed the subject. “Does she know you guys had me over?”
“Yeah.” He said to the device before composing a quick damage-control text message. She hated when he didn’t reply to her within twenty minutes.
“I guess it’s cool since your brother’s here.” You said, gesturing to Jiun’s sleeping body, curled up in a chair on the other side of the living room.
Jiwon jumped slightly before covering his mouth and cackling. “Oh man, I forgot he was even there. Yeah, she’d probably be mad that you’re here and the only other person isn’t even conscious. Guess I shouldn’t fill her in on that part.”
You chuckled uncomfortably, knowing he wasn’t really joking. His girlfriend had made herself pretty clear by now to your face and through several text conversations that she wasn’t ok with Jiwon and you hanging out alone together. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. And I know he’s your best friend but it’s just that: I had a best friend. And now that best friend is my boyfriend. You know?” Ever since she said those words on that “girls’ day” she’d arranged for the two of you, you’ve been fuming. Until that point, she was the first girlfriend of his that you’d actually approved of. Now it felt like you had to make an appointment through her to even consider texting him.
“I’m sorry about that, again. I don’t get why she’s threatened by you.” You were getting tired of hearing him say those words. Every time you heard him refer to it so plainly you wanted to yell back then do something about it!! You couldn’t help but be a little offended that he let her take this kind of control over him. It wasn’t at all like the Jiwon you knew.
You shrugged and laughed a little. “I don’t think any of your girlfriends have ever liked me.”
He made a face that reminded your boozed brain of that one emoji with the wide open eyes and straight line of teeth. “Yeaaaah…”
“I knew it! You would have never admitted that if you were sober.”
He took a humorously convenient sip before offering a rebuttal. “What about you? None of the boyfriends you’ve had ever liked me either.”
“Ok that’s true, but remember you also beat up one of them and then he told everyone.”
He pointed towards you with a serious facial expression. “Hey, hey, fuck him. He deserved it and any decent guy could look at his situation and know I did nothing wrong. If someone hurts you, they hurt me and when that happens...” He made a gesture alluding to physical harm that he most definitely got from a mobster movie. You rolled your eyes.
You both finished your drinks in the next few minutes. Jiwon sprang up to grab two more from the kitchen, while you sat on the couch picking at an empty bottle’s wrapper. You mind kept wandering back to his question from before. When he returned he plopped down beside you and exchanged the empty in your hand with a smile. You smiled back, being reminded of the misalignment in his front teeth. You hadn’t appreciated them up close in what felt like months. Despite you getting braces in middle school and slowly and somewhat painfully correcting your dental imperfections, his bunny teeth had never changed. But they fit him. They were uniquely Kim Jiwon.
“Are you staring at my crooked teeth?” He accused, speaking with a smile that he now covered with his fist. “That’s rude.”
You laughed into your bottle and sipped it. As you did, Jiwon gently began to tilt the bottom up, causing you to nearly spill beer all over yourself. It was a maneuver you’d pulled on each other for years. “Kim Jiwon, I swear! You want to talk about rude?!” You lifted it instinctively above his head, to which he immediately grabbed your wrist in defense. You both laughed as you waged a mini battle of physical strength, gripping each other’s wrists and forcing all four of them between midair and couch cushions. “Don’t do it!” “How old are you?!” “Come on!” “You’ve got nothing!” But the fake fight didn’t end how it usually did in the past.
Where one of you would normally get sick of it and surrender, you’d both come to a mutual halt. You looked into each other’s eyes. You didn’t realize when it had happened but rather than simply gripping one of his wrists, you’d actually interlaced your fingers together. You also took notice to just how fast your heart was beating.
The seconds felt like hours. The tension in your arms slowly relaxed, but your fingers remained entwined. You kept wanting to speak but the words just wouldn’t come out. Your lips continued to part and immediately close in a way that was probably incredibly confusing to look at. Your cheeks reddened. Say it! Just say it!
“About that question you asked earlier.” You almost whispered.
His eyes widened, knowing exactly which you were referring to. “Yeah?” His pitch matching yours.
“I…don’t think I’ve ever connected with anyone like this.” You watched his eyes dance back and forth between both of yours, as if clinging on to your words. There was no way he couldn’t hear your heart beating from the close proximity of your chests.
“Really?” His face twitched into a smirk. “Me neither.”
You laughed nervously, having never expected a moment like this to ever actually happen. A part of you always imagined what it would be like but you never acted on it. And you never, especially recently, ever would have imagined Jiwon thought about it too. “It’s…it’s almost scary, isn’t it?”
“It really is…” He smiled briefly, still staring into your eyes in wonder.
You squeezed his hand as if asking permission, and the second his hand squeezed back: it happened. In half a second, you watched his eyes close and his face approach yours, breeching a vicinity it had never before passed. A current of excitement pulsed from the top of your head to your toes as his lips made contact with yours. You’d always thought the idea of “sparks flying” during a kiss to be cliché and superficial. Until now. It lasted merely twenty seconds but you immersed yourself into that kiss with every fiber of your being. His lips were just plump enough. Their slow, though few, movements covered your arms in goosebumps. Maybe you were just drunk, but you couldn’t remember any kiss you’d ever had that was anything like this. And maybe it would have lasted a little longer…
The unmistakable sound of a phone vibrating snapped the two of you out of your trance. You pulled away from each other and stared with wide eyes in momentary shock. Jiwon quickly came to, realizing that buzzing was his own phone. He shook his head and wiped his hand across his face before answering the call. “Uh H-.” He cleared his throat. “Hey you.”
It was Soomi. SHIT. Your face got beet red, accompanying a sudden urge to cry. Your hands covered your mouth as you leaned forward on the couch, listening as Jiwon talked to his girlfriend and acted like nothing was wrong. And that he totally wasn’t just kissing the exact girl she felt so threatened by. What the fuck is going on? What just happened? WHY did it just happen?
When he finally hung up, silence fell between the two of you. Neither of you said anything for nearly ten minutes. You couldn’t look at each other. All either of you could do was bury your face in your hands and sigh frustratingly. Jiwon was the first one to finally speak.
“I…I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say right now uh…” You looked at him, seeing that both of you had tears in your eyes. He cleared his throat. “I need some time.”
Today…
You sniffed, silently praying Jiwon couldn’t tell from this distance that you were tearing up. You forced a small smile to match his, until he mouthed something to you with raised eyebrows.
You furrowed yours in response, mouthing back “what?”
He narrowed his eyes, playfully frustrated, before he silently repeated himself much slower. “Are you ok?”
You sighed, this time with a genuine smile. It was just like him to make sure those around were all right even when he himself was physically injured. You mentally prepared yourself to lie and offer a pathetic thumbs up, until you saw Soomi vigorously shake his shoulder. Neither of you had even noticed she’d been trying to get his attention.
Though you couldn’t hear their exchange that went on for the next minute, you saw Jiwon slowly nod his head with a small smirk. Jiun stood up from his spot on the ground by his brother’s knee to pat him on the shoulder. Relief was clear in his expression, causing the muscles in your chest to begin to relax themselves. You knew Jiwon must have finally agreed to get himself checked out.
As Jiun helped his brother up to use the crutches you’d found, you saw Soomi look to you. You quickly drew your attention to your phone, as if you hadn’t been staring at them for the past fifteen minutes. You scrolled aimlessly through nothing remotely important until the sound of her voice startled you.
“Hey, Jiwon is finally agreeing to go to the hospital so we’re all about to head to the car. I can drop you off at your parents’ house since it’s on the way. Sound ok?” She spoke each word with the biggest smile painted across her face. All you could do was nod your head. Your parents’ house was nowhere within route to the hospital.
You let out a sigh as she walked to the cashier counter while you joined Jiwon and his brother. You smirked at his crutches before lifting your eyes to lock with his. He shrugged his shoulders and smiled. “Sorry I ruined the night.”
“Come on. You didn’t ruin anything. How’s it feel?”
“Eh. I’ll survive.” He replied in his casual, confident manner.
You shook your head. “You just had to go and show off. Just like back when we were kids and you wanted to race me only if you got to run backwards. You always did that! Until that time you ate shit.” You laughed. “Remember that?”
He chuckled at the memory. “Oh I remember. But I would have won that race if that bigass root didn’t get in my way. Not my fault I couldn’t see it!”
You laughed even harder. “Yeah, actually it was.”
Jiun chimed in. “I remember that day. You let mom get mad at me for ‘pushing you on the ground’ or something, when it was actually you who just went and fell running backwards because you’re an idiot.” He pointed an accusing finger at his brother, who was currently trying to maintain his balance on crutches while laughing his ass off.
“Hyung, this was a harmless conversation. Now why are you making things up?” Jiwon replied between chuckles.
You rolled your eyes as Jiun reeled his fist back in a fake threat. “You’re lucky Soomi chooses to put up with you. We’re blood so I have to.”
As if his phrasing had summoned her, Soomi then appeared by Jiwon’s side with a wide grin. You averted your eyes as he looked down at her, catching the small peck he left on her forehead in your periphery.
“Y/N too. Hell she’s chosen to put up with you longer than anyone.”
You felt your cheeks grow red as you held yourself back from punching Jiun. You didn’t even need to turn your head to know the look that Soomi was giving you.
“I mean we’re basically blood too, so.” You casually wrote off.
“All right, well is everyone ready to go?” Soomi piped up, no longer wishing to further engage this topic.
---
The car ride was significantly quieter than the trip earlier. Though you wanted to go with the three of them and ensure that Jiwon was properly taken care of, the night’s events had left you feeling drained and defeated. You accepted that it was best that you didn’t tag along; despite the fact that at this point in time, you really had no choice.
Still, you were able to look at Jiwon, who was fast asleep in the passenger seat clutching his crutches like his Winnie the Pooh bear, and smile. What mattered the most right now was ensuring he’d be ok.
As the car rounded the corner towards your parents’ neighborhood, Jiun spoke up and broke the prolonged silence. “Hey, uh, Soomi this isn’t the hospital.”
“I’m just dropping Y/N off since it’s on the way.”
As you made eye contact with his incredulous expression, you made a quick gesture while mouthing “it’s ok” before returning your gaze to the window. Not even two minutes passed before the car made the familiar turn into your driveway.
“Thanks for dropping me off, Soomi. You guys get there safe and send any updates my way, ok?” You offered halfheartedly as she unlocked your door from the driver seat.
“Of course. Good to see you Y/N.” She bluntly returned. You sighed to yourself and left the vehicle. Just as you heard the door close behind you, you heard Jiun speak up. “Well I’m going to walk her up to the door. I’ll be right back.”
You smiled as you turned to see him jogging over to you from his side of the car. “Thanks Jiun, but you don’t have to do that. I’m a big girl, I can get to the door myself. Get back in there and make sure that punk is walking by tomorrow, all right?”
He smiled before pulling you in for a hug. “You should be coming with us.” He muttered.
You squeezed and patted his back as you fought a silent battle with your emotions. “Just keep me updated, ok?” He nodded his head and agreed before getting back in the car. You waved at the vehicle as it pulled away, forcing another smile.
You turned to see them completely disappear from view as your hand made contact with the front door. You entered the house, allowing your hand to linger on the doorknob as you locked yourself in, and let out a sigh.
“You’re home early.”
Your mom’s voice left you momentarily frozen. Shit.
“Uh, yeah, I am.” You offered, trying to sound ok without actually turning to face her. Maybe she’d buy it and just go in the kitchen or something, leaving you in the clear to hide in your room for the next three years.
“What’s wrong?”
God damn her intuition…
“What? Nothing’s wrong.” You stated far from convincing after turning around a little too abruptly.
She made the face. Your mom made this specific face whenever she knew that 1. Something was clearly wrong, and 2. You were clearly lying about it not being wrong.
“Everything’s fine!” You averted eye contact and immediately skipped to plan B; fleeing to the bathroom. “Give me a second? I’ve actually really got to go.”
“Y/N.” She crossed her arms. “What is it?”
“Mom…” You sighed. Works every time. You raised your arms out briefly before throwing them down in defeat. “It’s just…Jiwon. Well, Soomi.”
She nodded her head, having already anticipated something like this. “Did she say something?”
You sighed once again out of frustration. “Not really. I just know what she’s thinking when she sees me, you know? She doesn’t have to say anything.”
“Do you think going out tonight was a bad idea?”
“No” You replied abruptly. “I was glad to see them. I was…it’s just. God damnit.” You ran your hands across your face, trying your hardest not to cry in front of her and silently hoping your mild profanity would become the new focus.
She walked closer to you and placed her hands on your shoulders protectively. Her eyes were full of concern. “Talk to me.”
That was it. You let the tears fall. The amount of emotion you’d been suppressing for the past twenty four hours was too great and your mother’s soft and caring voice was just enough of a catalyst. A knot of anxiety took refuge at the top of your throat. Your lower lip trembled. “Remember when you said they wouldn’t last?” You squeaked.
“Oh, honey.” She brought you in for a hug. “Shh, shhh. It’s all right.”
You sniffed while the two of you relocated to your room, away from any potential eavesdropping from your dad. Once you walked in, your mom sat at your desk and you instantly began to pace. She waited patiently and watched as you attempted to fan your tears away.
After Soomi had first expressed her disapproval of your friendship, your mom was the only person, besides his brother, that you could talk to about Jiwon. She was a reliable source for your late night venting; listening and always validating, but brutally honest when need be. You took a deep breath and looked at her with a forced smile. “I love him, Mom.”
“I know you do, sweetheart. I know it’s hard.” She replied with a nod.
“No, I… love him.” You sighed. “He kissed me.”
“What!” The volume of her voice startled you, but you knew you shouldn’t have expected anything less. “Tonight?!”
You continued pacing. “No, no not tonight. This was last year when I was in town and spent the night with his family.” She gave you a look and you instantly panicked. “Nothing happened! It was just a kiss. I still slept in their guest room all by myself. Everything is fine…” You reassured her, though not truly believing the last statement.
“Well no wonder Soomi is the way she is.”
You winced. “So. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t actually know about it.”
“Oh, Y/N. That’s not fair.”
You scoffed, annoyed at her ability to perfectly mimic your conscience. “Yeah, well, they’re fine and still happily together. This week was the first time I’d heard from him all year.” You threw your hands up only to throw them back down with a huff of your chest. “So that’s the situation we’ve been in. I thought you were on my side.”
She sighed. “I am, honey.” A silence filled the space between you for a few moments until your phone buzzed.
Jiun: In the waiting room. I’m sorry that you’re not here. She’s being way too much…I had to walk away for a minute because she kept speaking for Jiwon when they were signing him in. Talking over him and stuff.
Of course. You swallowed; trying unsuccessfully to get rid of the knot in your throat.
“Come sit.” Your mom spoke up softly, while lifting herself from your desk chair and offering it to you. You sighed and forced a smirk. It was about time for that brutal honesty.
She perched herself on the corner of your bed and gently held both of your hands. “I know you love him.” Her expression was warm and sincere, being enough for your tears to bud once more. “And I know he loves you. Of course he does. You’ve been so close for so long. I know how hard this must be for you.” She offered a small smile. “I remember when you first told me that Soomi didn’t like the two of you hanging out together.”
You opened your mouth to reflexively correct her, but she read your mind and continued. “Unless you were in a group. I remember telling you that she was just insecure. She didn’t trust you and she wasn’t confident enough in herself. You were seen as a threat and she wanted to control that however she could. Even if it meant hurting the friendship you had with both of them. You remember that right?”
You nodded your head.
“Well, honey, after knowing what I know now: I think she was right. I think her instincts were telling her that Jiwon’s heart wasn’t as committed to her as she’d wanted and hoped for.” She analyzed your reaction, catching the little glimmer of hope that had filled your eyes. “But as much as I love that boy and…admittedly always, wanted him to be a member of this family I think he’s been confused about that too. The fact that what happened between you two, happened, and you didn’t hear from him for so long afterwards. But the two of them are still together…” She sighed. “I don’t think it’s in the cards for you and him right now.”
You looked back at her, perplexed, but not saying anything. You waited for her to continue, anxiously awaiting her motherly wisdom, just staring at her like some sort of crystal ball and hoping for further elaboration of these so called cards.
“And that’s ok, you know? It should be ok. It really is sad that this is happening but you should know that you’ll survive it. You’ve had such a strong friendship all these years, right?��� You nodded again, this time with tears filling your eyes. “And it’s ok to cry right now. You’ve been hurt and you’ve been handling a lot all while trying to keep up with school too. Who wouldn’t cry?” She squeezed your hands gently. “But honey, as much as you care about Jiwon, you can’t forget about you. I’ve always told you to let yourself be sad when you need to be sad but once you accept your emotions, you’ve got to keep living in the present. In this moment. Let him figure out what he needs. Let Soomi do it too. But you also need to take care of you. Ok?”
You threw your arms around her shoulders. She reciprocated the embrace, holding you in the nurturing comfort you’ve always held close to your heart. You smiled despite the tears running down your cheeks. She was right. She was always right.
A few hours later as you’d finally settled into bed, your phone went off again.
Jiun: A torn tendon. Minor. Doctors say he’ll be walking on it in a matter of weeks. Just has to wear the boot of shame.
You sighed out of relief.
Y/N: That’s what I wanted to hear. You make sure he keeps that thing on. No more stunts.
You placed your phone face-down on your nightstand and covered yourself beneath the sheets. You stayed awake like that a little longer, for what felt like hours, just reflecting on everything that your mom had said. You’d never wrapped your head around why Soomi acted the way she did. Even if you didn’t condone the more controlling parts of her personality, you couldn’t blame her suspicions anymore. She was justified. Her feelings are just as valid as yours. And that, served as one of the biggest motivators for you to embrace change.
A part of you was enormously grateful, and ready to enter the next chapter of truly focusing on yourself. But another part of you was terrified. Despite the last year of no contact and zero closure, until tonight, you’d been by Jiwon’s side for as long as you could remember. Learning to accept your situation for what it was and patiently allowing the universe to lead you both in the right directions sounded way easier said than done.
But as you closed your eyes that night, you smiled to yourself as you thought to Jiun’s text; Jiwon was ok. And even if you weren’t right now, you knew that you would be. Everything would work itself out.
In time.
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