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justimajin · 9 months

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The Profit & Love Statement » Pt. 12

↠ Pairing: Seokjin x Reader

↠ Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst

↳ 6.4k / Office AU (lowkey E2L vibes)

↠ Summary: The workplace isn’t for everyone. It can be mundane and repetitive, with some describing it like a nuisance and others as a blessing. You’re the kind that leans more towards the latter and while it does make you an ideal candidate for many things, nothing could have prepared you for the whirlwind that is the new employee.

↠ Warnings: borderline fake dating au, so much bickering, a whole lot of confusion and chaos

↠ A/N: We've reached the half point for the series! From here on, things are going to move forward very fast.

↠ Next Update: Tuesday, September 19 (series masterpost here)

“Would you like some bags for your groceries?”

“Huh?” You whirl around to see the cashier has already scanned all of your belongings, gazing at you with expectant eyes. You immediately nod with a small smile, and she turns, taking out a handful of plastic bags before assisting you with bagging the items.

After wishing you a nice day, you collect the bags with one hand and check the time on your phone with the other, showcasing that it was around 7pm.

Luckily with the looming threat of paying your rent resolved, things had finally started shifting to the brighter side for you. Your work life had been especially better, with Soyou noticing your efforts more than she ever did after you took on the role of training Seokjin. As a result, you felt like your spirits had been brought up and decided to head out for some groceries straight after work this Friday evening.

You walk out of the store with a giant grin, heading over to the bus stop to get home. However, something catches your eye.

There’s a young woman leaning down, a small bump on her stomach that she holds as she tries to pick up her fallen bags. Your eyes widen and you put your phone away, walking over in an instant.

Bending down, you retrieve the bags and hand them over to her.

“Oh my god, thank you so much.” She latches onto your arm in pure relief, “I was okay in the store, but then the bags just slipped out of my hands and–“

Her breath hitches upon looking up. Your brows contort, eyes concentrating on her features.

She blurts out a name in recognition.

“Y/N?”

You blink, taken aback. “Do we know each other?”

“Y/N, right? Y/N L/N.” She points out, “You majored in business, back at East College?”

Your eyes are as wide as ever, recognition hitting you like a truck.

“Wait, Miyeon?” You whisper in astonishment, only to watch her eyes brighten. She propels herself forward, tackling you into a hug.

“Oh my god, it is you, Y/N!” Although you’re still suspended in shock, you raise your arms to hug her back, “It’s been so long! How have you been?!”

“I’ve been alright.” You chuckle underneath your breath. “I never thought I would run into you here.”

Miyeon lets go of you with a giggle and you warmly smile.

All the memories were coming back piece by piece. You had met her back in your college days, having gone quickly from mere acquaintances to friends. However, as the handles of time progressed and you had gotten accepted into your internship, you had soon departed from college without another look back.

But from the warm glow she emits, you can tell things haven’t changed much. “Were you planning to take the bus?” You wonder, still gripping onto her bags.

“Oh, no! I actually live nearby and wanted to go on a walk, but then I saw they had peaches on sale and couldn’t resist.” She lightly laughs and you grin.

“Which direction do you live in?” You ponder, “I can walk you back if you’d like.”

Her eyes brighten. “Of course, I’d love to catch up!” She points towards the pathway, “I live a couple of houses down from here.”

You grin. “Well then, lead the way.”

***

Trailing behind Miyeon, there’s two sets of bags within your hands – both your own and hers. Miyeon had continuously insisted that you’d let her hold something, but you simply waved it off and told her it was alright. You were keen on catching up with her, surprised to find out an interesting tidbit she reveals.

“You got married?” You ask, and she furiously nods, flashing the ring on her third finger.

“It was around roughly three years ago,” Her hands come around to rest on her belly, “And we’re expecting our first child in four months.”

“I’m so happy for you, Miyeon...” From her smile to the brightness in her eyes, you can tell she’s overfilled with joy. “Your husband is lucky to have you.”

“Oh, please.” She waves off the compliment, fondly smiling. “He’s great and all, but sometimes his confidence and self-praises makes him so full of himself, you know?”

A laugh escapes her, “–but at times I feel like I’ve gotten lucky with him. He’s just so sweet and kind, Y/N.”

A smile tugs at the corner of your lips. “What about you? How have you been?”

“Oh, I got accepted into an internship right out of college and stayed there for a while.” Your irises shift, a lopsided smile on your lips. “Unfortunately right after, my parents got into an accident and passed away.”

Her eyes enlarge. “I-I’m so sorry to hear that.”

Your smile strains. “It was really difficult the first couple of months, but then I had bills and a younger sister to look after. Thankfully, I soon got my current job and I’ve been working there ever since.”

Now that you’re stating it out loud, it’s a little strange to hear how different your route was from Miyeon out of college. Both of you were the same age, and graduated around the same time, but instead of having life milestones like getting married or having a family on your checklist, you were occupied with simply surviving and ensuring that Yuna could be happy to your best ability.

You’re incredibly happy for her, but in a way, it feels like you’ve missed out.

“I think it’s incredible you were able to stay strong during such hard times.” Your eyes snap over to her somber expression. “Where are you working now?”

“Oh, I–“

The words die in your throat.

Your line-of-sight strays away, pupils rounding as they land on the humongous property in front of you.

The ‘house’ Miyeon indicated is actually an expansive mansion – with a handful of luxurious cars parked in the lengthened driveway, a tended to garden outside and a sidewalk littered with precious stones.

It has you gaping like a fish and Miyeon peers over at you. “Y/N?”

“Huh?” You snap out of your awe-filled daze, glancing at Miyeon who doesn’t even seem fazed from the place.

You point towards it with a shaky finger. “T-This is where you live?”

She warmly smiles, “Yeah, it is! Nice, isn’t it?”

Nice? More like it’s the most luxurious place you’ve ever seen and can afford to be near.

Before you can say anything else, Miyeon gestures to the bags in your hands. “Why don’t we head inside?”

You gulp, slowly nodding and following Miyeon meekly into the house.

The moment you step in, you’re struck with even more awe.

The ceiling is up high, a gorgeous silver chandelier hanging down from the spiralling staircase below it. From the bottom, you can see the multiple rooms the wooden doors lead into and the floor is spotless, appearing like it was made out of the finest of marble.

“Come on.” Miyeon gestures, and you trail behind her like a helpless puppy.

Surprisingly enough, the kitchen seems to be the only place that looks the most normal. It’s reminiscent of one you would have in your own home – a few countertops with a stove and a fridge tucked away in the corner. Miyeon heads straight for it, taking the bag filled with peaches and placing them inside.

She peeks out from the fridge as you cautiously slip into a chair next to the counter. “Oh, you never told me where you’ve been working!”

Realizing it’s when you stumbled on your words, you clear your throat and focus back in.

“I work at Kim Electronics.”

Miyeon pauses, closing the fridge door completely and staring at you with wide eyes.

A small smile tugs at her mouth as she repeats your words. “You…work at Kim Electronics?”

You hum, “You must have heard about it.”

Miyeon sheepishly chuckles, like she knew something you didn’t. “The same Kim Electronics who didn’t do so well on their last product and their CEO is planning to retire?”

“Uh, yeah…” You quirk your head to the side, knowing that only someone who kept on track with the company would only know those facts. “Do you work there?”

She shakes her head with a grin, letting you in on a certain tidbit that has the air leaving from your lungs, “No, but my husband is the son of the CEO.”

“Y-Your husband…?”

“Yep.” She giggles, reaching out to clasp onto your hands. “Aw, this is wonderful Y/N! I can’t believe you’re working at the company now.”

“Y-Yeah…i-it’s great…” You stutter out.

Your mind is complete chaos, wracking around for any mention of your dear intern telling you he was married or was expecting a child. But then it occurs to you that aside from knowing who Seokjin’s father was, there was nothing surrounding his personal life that ever came into topic.

Miyeon grins at you and although you reciprocate her actions, but there’s only more and more questions blooming from you at the discovery.

You end up spending a couple of hours at Miyeon’s house, still having your mind spin around the revelation. However, when the sky turns dark outside and you realize how much time has passed, you decide it’s time that you head on home.

But the moment the door opens, there’s bullets of heavy rain splashing down.

“Great…” You mumble, avertedly glancing around. Miyeon appears behind, wide eyes taking in the scenery.

“That doesn’t look so good…” She whispers, turning to you. “Will you be okay?”

“It’s fine, a little rain won’t hurt anyone.” You take a step out, holding an umbrella within your hand. The rain hits against it, splattering off.

“See? It’s not so bad.” You take a step out, glancing at Miyeon.

Thunder roars, electricity sparking through the clouds as the wind picks up.

You immediately jolt, shoulders hitching up.

Miyeon reaches out, tugging you back in with concern deep in her eyes. “Why don’t you just stay for the night? You don’t have work tomorrow, right?”

She was right – it was supposed to be your day off tomorrow and you were keen on taking some of the time to spend with Yuna, who you haven��t been able to see much of lately thanks to work.

Speaking of which, she’s the one factor that shifts your reasoning. “My sister is by herself at home…”

Miyeon’s eyes round. “Oh.”

Your pupils linger again outside. Truthfully, the weather was absolutely awful outside and there was no way you could go back in this weather to catch a bus.

With a sigh, you turn to her. “Let me give her a call and see.”

Miyeon nods and heads back into the kitchen as you plant the phone against your cheek. Yuna picks up on the second ring and after you tell her about the situation, the first thing on your mind are her thoughts.

“It’s really bad out there.” You mention, “Would you be okay if I came back in the morning?”

“I think I’ll be fine.” Yuna replies.

You hum, glancing at another flash of lightning strikes through the sky. “Remember what I always tell you–“

“Keep the door locked and have dinner on time.” Yuna states. “I know already Y/N, don’t worry.”

You let out a relieved exhale with a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

Turning the phone off, you swivel around to see Miyeon curiously darting her eyes over.

You shrug, “Looks like I’m staying for the night.”

***

The heavy weather dwindles into the night and at one point the thunder pulls a flinch out of you. After having dinner together, Miyeon guides you towards one of the guest bedrooms that you gratefully take, but your eyes are substantially wider at seeing the room.

It’s about twice the size of the one you have at home, paired with wide windows whose length just showcase the ill weather outside. The bed looks like it can accommodate at least three people and is lined with fur pillows and draped with satin dark teal sheets.

She mentions that she can get someone to drop you off in the morning and after giving you some clothes for the night, you easily slip into bed and stare at the ceiling. Everything from the house down to the bedrooms feels incredibly foreign for you, like you weren’t meant to be here in the first place.

Thankfully those thoughts don’t dwell through the later parts of the night and within an hour, you find the stress slipping away and yourself relaxing.

Sunlight pours through the now clear clouds, seeping into the windows and reflecting onto the green sheets you’re wrapped up in. You stir when its rays meet your eyes, blinking a little confused only to see the shifted weather outside.

Sitting up, the sheets pool around you as you stretch your arms out. You slip out of the bed, finding a pair of slippers nearby. You suppose you shouldn’t idle around for long in the house, knowing that letting you stay over was enough generosity from Miyeon’s side.

You let out a low yawn, turning around to head towards the door. But that’s when you freeze mid-way, breath hitching and eyes increasing in size.

There’s a chair placed in the far corner of the room, right next to the door, and on that chair sits Seokjin.

Well, kind of. His head is leaned down and his eyes are screwed shut, making you realize that he must be asleep. But what you can’t understand is a) what on earth is he even doing in this room in the first place and b) how did he manage to just fall asleep on a chair?!

Shaking your head, you cautiously shift closer until you’re standing directly in front of him. Although his self-praises have a tendency of getting annoying eventually, your current view almost makes you understand why he does it so often. His features are both soft and yet sharp, making you almost chuckle that he really is handso–

“Take a picture, it might last longer.”

You jolt back, planting a hand against your heart as his eyes flutter open. There’s a hint of amusement in them, but it’s soon coupled with a glare being sent in your direction.

He smiles in a way that’s not at all sweet. “Mind telling me what you’re doing sleeping in my house?”

You wince at his question. “Right, you live here….”

Seokjin is still staring at you, waiting for some kind of explanation. “Well, I’m good friends with Miyeon and last night the weather was terrible, so she offered I’d stay the night and gave me the guest bedroom.”

You’re expecting him either not to believe you, or at least be suspicious of the situation, but surprisingly enough, his eyes soften.

“You’re the friend Miyeon was talking about?”

You nod, “We’ve known each other ever since college.”

He hums. “I didn’t realize you lived here until it was too late, and I didn’t want to miss the opportunity of catching up with her.” A low sarcastic chuckle leaves you. “Though, it was certainly interesting finding out she’s your wife now.”

Seokjin nearly chokes on air and you tilt your head, raising an eyebrow.

“Are you okay?”

“My what now?!” He nearly screams, his eyes wider than ever.

“Your wife!” You repeat, “You guys are married, right?”

“No!” He lets out an exasperated exhale, “You seriously thought I have a wife?!”

“I also thought the kid in her stomach was yours too.” You chime in.

“Y/N!” He plants his hands against his face and paces around much to your confusion.

He swivels around, “I have an older brother!”

You frown at that, the lightbulb in your head finally starting to flicker.

“You have a brother….” You whisper in realization, only for Seokjin to nod exaggeratedly, “How was I supposed to know that?! She literally said she was married to CEO Namjung’s son!”

“The other son!! I’m not married to someone!” He pokes your shoulder, emphasizing his words, “I am single. SINGLE.”

You push his hand off, “Yeah, yeah, I can see why now.”

He scoffs in offense and you shake your head, connecting all the dots.

“It was all just a misunderstanding….” You mutter thoughtfully, “I get that now. She’s not your wife.”

“Thank you.” Seokjin softly replies, “Now that confusion has been cleared up, didn’t you need a ride home?”

Your eyes light up. “Oh yeah, I would really appreciate that.”

“Okay, get changed and I’ll grab my keys.” He walks closer to the door and your eyes widen, realizing that aside from the borrowed pj’s, you don’t have anything to brush your teeth or comb your hair with.

“Wait, Seokjin–“ He turns around in time, but it’s too late when your foot snags against the thick carpet, sending you spiraling downwards.

Seokjin luckily reacts in time, catching you before you go face first onto the ground. But that’s when the door creaks open, a familiar face emerging.

“Hey Y/N! Are you awake ye– oh.”

Miyeon falters at the door, her wide eyes landing straight on you and Seokjin.

You immediately scamper away from him, raising your hands in defense.

“It’s not what it looks like!”

Seokjin pitches in, “She’s right! There’s no way she would have landed someone as handsome as me.”

You whip your head around. “Excuse me?!”

“Oh come on, you know it’s true.”

“Seokjin!”

“You two know each other…?” Miyeon crosses her arms, eyes still darting between you two.

“We worked together at the company.” Seokjin mentions. “She’s an employee I shadowed.”

Miyeon hums. “Right, we’re just coworkers. Nothing else.”

Seokjin nods in approval and you meet his gaze with a reassured smile. Miyeon is still standing in between the two of you, watching your interaction with suspicion glimmering in her eyes.

She straightens up. “I think I know what’s going on here.”

Your brows raise and in her most accusing tone ever, she says– “You two are in a secret relationship, aren’t you?!”

You stare at Miyeon in absolute horror and Seokjin chokes on air for the second time of the day.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to hide it.” Miyeon remarks. “All this time, I was wondering how you still managed to stay single, Y/N!” She adds with a giggle. “I can’t believe you managed to snag my brother-in-law!”

“Snag him?!” You point to the space between you and Seokjin. “There’s been a misunderstanding, we’re not–

But before you can spew out the undeniable truth, there’s an arm swinging around your shoulders.

“Ah, what can you do, Miyeon?” Seokjin dramatically announces, shaking his head with a sigh. “You’re right, we’ve been caught! How much longer could we have hidden it?”

You stare at Seokjin like he’s insinuating the worst possible thing ever and before you can drive a wedge in the conversation, Miyeon speaks up.

“I knew it! I’m so happy you two are together!!”

She chuckles and Seokjin looks at her warmly, while you’re simply sending daggers with your eyes in his direction.

“Well, I came here to check if you were awake yet but it seems you already are.” She smiles. “Why don’t you join us for breakfast and then you can head home?”

“Oh no, there’s no way I could possibly–“

“Hey, it’s no worries! Besides, wouldn’t you want to spend more time with your boyfriend?”

Your face immediately sours at that but Seokjin smiles brightly. “Of course she would love to! I’ll drop her home right afterwards.”

“Great!” She grins, “I’ll see you two soon downstairs, don’t take too long!”

Seokjin continues to smile as you scowl while she leaves, but the moment the door shuts, you spin around in frustration.

“What the heck?! We are not together.”

“Listen, I know.” He coaxes, surprisingly serious. “Miyeon must have just considered we were based off of what she saw, but this could actually work out.”

You raise a brow, “What do you mean?”

“Ever since my brother got married, everyone’s been waiting for me to show up one day with someone.” He explains, “That’s why I just quickly went along with it.”

“Okay….” You murmur, already aware of the tedious process thanks to Hoseok’s shared stories.

However, one question lingers in your mind. “But why do I need to pretend to be your girlfriend?”

He could have chosen anyone he wanted, why drag you into this?

He shakes his head, like you weren’t properly understanding, “It’s because you can actually be really convincing as my–”

“What?”

Seokjin abruptly blinks, not realizing the words that were escaping him. “–Uh nothing, just pretend we’re together for a while and then you can go home. Sounds fair?”

You let out a sound of discontentment and Seokjin chuckles, peeking out the door. “Should I take that as a yes?”

“I don’t know… I’m not much of an actress.”

“Just pretend to be madly in love with me,” He gestures to himself, “Like are you seriously going to have any problems with that?”

“Oh my god.” You cover your mouth, trying to stifle down your laughter. “You can be so shameless sometimes.”

He winks in your direction. “Good to know that I’m boyfriend material.”

You playfully rolls your eyes and his brighten. “Okay, I’m going head back downstairs. I’ll see you soon.”

He closes the door behind him and you let out a deep sigh, reminiscing that getting back home was going to be a lot harder than you expected.

After freshening up a bit and changing back into your clothes, you start to feel better, especially when Seokjin managed to find an extra comb and toothpaste that you were extremely grateful to accept. Sending a quick text asking Yuna how she is, you head down the spiraling staircase, noticing loud noises coming from where the kitchen end is.

Upon entering, you notice there’s a set of chairs lined alongside one of the tables, with Miyeon sitting along one side across from a man and woman you don’t recognize.

Well, this is going to be awkward.

Everyone’s heads turn and you raise your hand, waving in their direction. “Hello.”

The man turns his head first, appearing closer to your age and having the exact same eyes as Seokjin. The woman on the other side is older, but her features are nearly identical to his.

“Y/N!” Miyeon calls, snapping your daze and gesturing for you to come closer. “This is my husband and mother-in-law. They just got back this morning.”

“Oh.” You raise your brows, reaching your hand out politely. “It’s nice to mee–“

“Y/N!!”

You frown at the voice, knowing who exactly it belonged to. Suddenly, there’s two arms wrapping around your form, encasing you into a back hug.

“Y/N! My darling!” Seokjin dramatically shouts. “We’ve been apart for far too long!!”

You whisper underneath your breath. “Seokjin, I swear to god–“

“Shh, acting 101. You have to make it believable.” He lets go of you and smiles brightly, but that’s when you notice the spatula in his hand.

You frown, “What are you doing?”

“Cooking, what else does it look like?”

Your eyes nearly bulge out. “You can cook?”

“Yeah, why?” He raises a brow, “Can’t you?”

There’s an awkward silence that lingers that Seokjin can’t quite place his finger on, but thankfully Miyeon comes over and joins the conversation with a smile.

“Y/N, you should come over and sit with us!”

“Sure.” You glance over at Seokjin, “I just need to talk to my…significant other…? For a minute.”

She nods and you’re impressed that you managed to somehow say it properly, but then Seokjin is sweeping you away into the kitchen.

Once you’re away from prying ears, you voice your thoughts. “You have to stop being so dramatic!”

“Dramatic?” He frowns, flipping something on the stove. “I’m just acting the way couples do!”

“Couples don’t act like that!” You falter, “Well, not the normal ones, at least.”

“How am I supposed to know?!”

“You should know! You–“ Your trail off at his words, “You’ve…never been in a relationship before….?”

He shakes his head, “Nope.”

“Woah, really…?”

“Why are you surprised?”

“I don’t know, I just thought someone like you would be…”

“Is this your way of calling me handsome?”

“Oh my god, no!” You shake your head, “Just tone it down, will you?”

“Fine.” He mutters, eyes lighting up. “Oh, and just call me Jin. It’ll be better that way.”

You wrinkle your nose. “You make it sound like we’re so close.”

“What? Don’t you think you should at least try to be close to your fake boyfriend?” He whispers, shaking his head in grievance. “Wow, Y/N. I don’t know if I can even salvage this relationship any longer.”

You chuckle at that and he joins in with a smile, but then Miyeon’s voice pitches through. “I hear laughter~”

“Shoot, okay, I’m going back.” Seokjin nods in agreement and you head to the table everyone is at, getting yourself a seat.

From your corner of your eye, you can already see Miyeon grinning.

“So, you were training Jin, hmm?”

“Uh, yeah.” You nervously smile, “He’s actually been trained by a couple of employee’s before I became the sole person to do it.”

“Oh, so it was personal.”

The way she says it makes it sound like you and Seokjin fell in love with each other the moment you met, but in reality it consisted of a lot of pestering and running around on your part, and rigorous hard work from Seokjin’s end.

“Right…”

“How did the training go?” She wonders. “Did you find yourself liking him more?”

“It was okay…at first.” If you constitute him barely understanding anything and the fact that you couldn’t agree on anything. “But over time, our relationship developed for the good and I guess I would consider that we’re very close now.”

The negotiation arises in your mind, alongside times where you were genuinely so happy with his progress.

“Aw, that sounds so romantic!” Miyeon gushes and it takes every fiber of your being not to recoil at the statement.

“He didn’t give you too much trouble, did he?” The question comes from a voice on your left, noticing his mother staring at you curiously.

Your eyes widen, “O-Of course not! He was a very good worker!”

She warmly smiles, almost reminding you of Seokjin’s own smile, “That’s good to hear.”

“She’s asking because he’s worked at the company before,” His brother mentions, “It was through an internship a while ago, and he wasn’t accepted.”

Your brows contort in puzzlement, “Oh…”

“But it’s great to hear that he’s been doing well!” His brother’s eyes spark, “And that you’re together now too.”

“Yeah it is….” Although you’re cringing, you attempt to return his smile, a tad surprised by the news.

Seokjin suddenly emerges out from the kitchen with a tray in his hands, “Food’s ready!”

He begins to set down dishes and you rise from your seat, offering to help but he waves you off.

“You’re a guest. Sit down.” You frown at that and Miyeon giggles, causing you to quirk a brow at her.

Once there’s a plate full of food placed before you, you grab your fork and decide to take a bite of the noodles. In an instant, there’s a burst of flavours in your mouth and you nearly drop your utensils in surprise.

From the corner of your eye, Seokjin notices your reaction and has the smuggest smile you have ever seen on him.

With a cheeky tone, he asks for your opinion, “How is it?”

You clear your throat, “It’s alright.”

He grins, “Oh please, you loved it.”

“I guess…it’s not bad…”

“It’s not bad.” He sarcastically mimics, “What a compliment.”

You playfully glare at him, but Miyeon breaks out in a cluster of coughs and furiously waves her hands in front of her face.

“Miyeon?” You ask in alarm. She shakes his head, features scrunched up.

“I don’t think I can’t eat this, it’s making me nauseous.”

Both you and her husband rise up, but Seokjin is much quicker, swiftly taking the dish away and heading over to the kitchen. He returns within a couple of seconds after Miyeon’s husband is checking on her, bringing a glass of water in his hands and a broth-like soup in his hands.

She gratefully accepts it, taking a couple of sips and reassuring all of you that she was okay. He sets down the soup in front of her.

“I made this just in case the fried food was too much.”

You watch with rounded eyes as a wide smile stretches on Miyeon’s lips and Seokjin softly smiles in return.

He slips into the seat at the far end of the table, which is right next to you, pointing to your food with a thumbs up that just had your head shaking with a smile.

***

Having breakfast with Seokjin and his family is an action you were never expected to have done, but you can definitely say you were more than glad to do so. The best words to describe them would have to be warm and welcoming, as well sharing the same business mindset that’s been drilled into your head. Aside from the fact that they believe you and Seokjin are a thing, you don’t find yourself minding thanks to the familial atmosphere.

You begin to wonder if it’s something you’ve truthfully missed over time, so used to a table that just had you and Yuna.

After everyone’s done eating, you slip out of your seat and begin to collect the plates, heading into the kitchen to place them by the sink.

Seokjin lifts his head up with a smile, “Thanks.”

“What are you doing?” You tilt your head, noticing he was hunching over the counter.

“Oh, I was cutting some cabbage to use later.” He explains, “If you don’t make something out of it fast, it starts to go bad.”

You hum, glancing around. “I’m surprised you were cooking for your family, do you do it every time?”

He shrugs, “Not all the time, but whenever I feel like it. We do have chefs,” He points out, “–if that’s what you’re wondering, but I just like cooking so I’ll make breakfast or lunch sometimes.”

You nod, “I’m impressed.”

He grins lopsidedly, “By what? That I can probably wield a knife better than a business deal?”

“Oh come on, I didn’t say that!” He loudly laughs and you stare at the perfectly cut cabbage next to him, a pout rising on your lips. “I’m just saying…that cooking is a good skill to have. There’s a lot of people that take it for granted and it isn’t as easy as it looks–“

He swivels around with wide eyes, “Oh my god, you can’t cook, can you?”

“I can cook!” You protest in defense, “J-Just not as well…”

His eyes flicker in recognition, offense written all over his features, “Wait, and you said my food’s ‘not bad’?”

“Well yeah, but–“ He turns around, rummaging around the kitchen. “What are you doing?”

“Hold on.” After a moment passes, he faces you again, a spoon in his hands that he gently blows on.

“I was making this for lunch, but I want you to try it.” He brings it up to your mouth and you almost flinch from the proximity, but cautiously take a sip.

It’s incredible, even better than the noodles he served everyone and you hum in contentment.

He looks at you with expectant eyes and it’s beginning to get harder and harder to dodge the truth.

“I-It’s good…”

He beams, “That’s nice to hear, because you’re getting some of it to take home too.”

“What?! Seokjin, it’s fine! You don’t have to–“

He abruptly turns, a knowing look in his eyes that’s accompanied with a warm smile, “Didn’t I say you can call me Jin?”

You blink wide-eyed, rendered speechless.

He raises a brow, “What? Finally discover I’m handsome yet?”

You instantly scoff with a smile, “Just give me the damn food.”

He grins, completely overjoyed.

You encase Miyeon into a big hug.

“Thank you for letting me stay over for the night.”

“It’s no worry at all, Y/N!” She releases you, “I’m just so happy we were able to reconnect again.”

A warm smile pulls at your lips. Aside from your workplace relationships, you didn’t really have any other significant friendships.

It makes you feel even more so grateful to have met her again.

“We should do something…like maybe go out during the weekend.” You suggest, and she beams.

“I would love that!”

You warmly smile, turning your attention over to the staircase. You recall Jin had told you to wait for him as he grabbed his keys.

“I also have to mention–“ You swirl around and Miyeon has a glint to her eyes, “You and Jin…you two make a good pair.”

You instantly scoff, having heard many remarks about the two of you throughout the day with the only recollection being the times you were training him.

“I don’t know, he can really be loud and obnoxious at times.”

“Really?” Miyeon blinks and you raise a brow.

“Yeah, don’t you think so?”

She places a finger against her lips, deep in thought. “Well there are times where he makes a lot of jokes, puns, even.”

You don’t even need to know him too long to wholeheartedly agree with that. “–but Jin can be very sweet and caring, I just feel so lucky to have him around.”

Your brows knit together at that. You wonder if being around him so much within a work environment has almost desensitized you to his presence, not having really paid attention to any of his actions.

“Don’t worry though, I’m definitely sure Jinnie loves you a lot!” She exclaims and before you even have a chance to blink at that nickname, the sound of jingling keys greets your eyes.

Jin emerges from behind you, “Hey! Are you ready to go?”

You nod, glancing at Miyeon quickly, “I’ll see you soon.”

She eagerly smiles, waving at you as you follow Jin back to his car. You slip into the passenger seat, letting out a relieved sigh once he turns the keys and the engine roars.

“I’m so glad all that pretending to be in a relationship is finally over.”

Jin chuckles, looking behind him as he reverses the car, “Hey it wasn’t so bad now, was it?”

“It wasn’t…” You mention as he pulls fully out of the driveway, “But someone’s dramatics didn’t exactly help.”

“That’s it, I think we need to break up.”

You laugh and he glances at you with a smile before driving ahead.

“By the way, what were you and Miyeon talking about before I came down?”

“Oh, nothing really. She was just convincing me on how great you are and that we would make a good pair.”

“She’s not wrong about the first one.” He pitches in.

You roll your eyes, “‒that and I discovered the fact that she calls you ‘Jinnie’.”

His head whips around, not quite expecting to hear that answer to leave you.

You laugh at his expression, “Why did she call me that in front of you?!”

“Oh come on, I think it’s cute!” You respond, “Right, Jinnie?”

He lets out a groan and your shoulders begin to shake with the rate at how much you’re laughing.

“Alright, I’ll stop.” You bring up when he just seems to look more and more deflated, “I have to admit though, your family’s really nice.”

“Sure, I bet they told you a bunch of awful and embarrassing things about me.”

You shrug, “I’m not going to spill, so I guess we’ll never know.”

He sends a glare in your direction and your voice pipes down, “You know, your brother did tell me something….”

“Was it about my limited-edition Mario collection?”

Your eyes round. “What? No…”

Jin nervously laughs, “Oh uh, good. Because it isn’t true.”

Somehow you think he’s not telling the truth, but you skim over the fact, “He actually told me you worked for the company before through an internship….and that you didn’t get accepted.”

His voice drops a tone, “Oh…”

“It was just something he mentioned really quickly–“ You hurriedly say, his reaction telling enough of his experience. “I was just surprised and–“

“No, he’s right. I got the opportunity with an internship and ultimately, wasn’t hired.”

You slowly nod, taken aback with his honesty. “I think at the end of the day….I wasn’t ready. I still don’t think I am.” He lowly chuckles, “I used to think someone like me could never possibly work in the office and I compared myself to my brother a lot, who I still think would be a far better CEO.”

Your eyes widen, staring at him with a mix of surprise and concern, “But my dad wanted me to take up the role instead of Seokjung. I tried convincing him, saying that I wouldn’t make for a good CEO, but he was persistent and told me to just believe in myself and his choice.”

He lets out a long drawn out sigh, “I’ve been just trying my best and by the looks of it, it seems like I’m making progress.”

He glances over at you with a small smile and you feel a bit touched with the gesture.

“So we’ll see how things go…” He whispers, voice suddenly pitching up. “I mean, I certainly have the look of the CEO, but the skills….ehhh….”

“Oh please, don’t sell yourself so short.” You chide and he grins.

“Why not? Don’t you think I'm the type of person who should be married with a kid?”

Your mouth falls agape and he bursts out laughing.

“Oh come on, that was a one-time mistake!”

“I’ll remember it the next time you think I’m married to my sister-in-law.”

You cross your arms, “There isn’t going to be a next time!”

“Right, you’ll probably just find someone random and assume I’m married to them.”

“Jin!”

Despite your efforts for him to stop his teasing, he keeps laughing and whispering something along the lines of ‘this is just pure gold’. Eventually, you can’t help yourself and join in, relieved that he was smiling once again.

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blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk · 2 years

Text

Safe & Sound AU.

You’ve attended Madame Red’s social events in the past, and you’ve seen her odd (but quite lovable) collection of adult children... but you’ve never seen him before.

He appears to be uncomfortable even in his own skin, shifting constantly, standing over by the wall. Not a word comes out of his mouth, even when ladies pass by and giggle at his appearance. All he does is duck his head down and blush.

Personally, despite that you find those scales of his and the stark-white hair a bit of a shock, you don’t see what there is to laugh about. So you’ve never seen anyone like him; big deal. You’d never seen anyone as tall as Jumbo before you met him. People don’t need to laugh at others who look different than they do.

When you drift over toward the wall to stand next to the young man, you almost feel a bit like a guard dog. No one’s going to make fun of him while you’re standing here.

Though you don’t really know what to say, you start by clearing your throat, followed by the most mundane thing you can think of. “Good evening! I’m (Name).”

His gaze flickers to you, and you’re nearly lost in his eyes. Just like the rest of him, you’ve never seen eyes like that ― golden, with slit pupils, like a black thread in a sea of thick honey, and white lashes settling atop like snow. You can practically hear his heart pounding.

“... Call me Snake,” he murmurs. “Everyone does.”

You nod with a small hum. “A pleasure to meet you, Snake. Would you like to dance?”

Instantly he’s shaking his head, moving as if to shrink back into the wallpaper. As if he can hide any further than he already is. “N-no... no, I’m not good.”

“Oh, that’s fine. Do you mind if I stay, though?”

A quiet shrug is the answer you get. “If you like.”

Another moment of silence passes between you, then you feel something pushing against your foot. You look down only to see a beautifully colored snake slithering there by your feet, and you kneel down to give it a closer look. Although the sight should surprise you, it’s not as strange given that you’re certain it’s got something to do with this young man.

Speaking of, he lets out a small gasp when he sees what you’re doing. “E-Emily! Get away from...”

“Oh, she’s one of yours, then?” Doing your best to be careful, you slip a hand under a few parts of the snake’s body, trying to keep away from her head. You get a soft hiss for your trouble, but she doesn’t make any moves to strike at you. “She’s gorgeous. And she seems quite friendly!”

All at once, Snake’s face flushes a brilliant scarlet. You don’t think he expected you to be alright with a snake, let alone compliment her. “S-she... she says... you were in her w-way...”

You tilt your head. “Is that right? You can understand her? Well, then, I can put her where she’d like to go. How about out to the garden?”

“A... are you sure?” He glances toward the rest of the party. “Wouldn’t you enjoy yourself m-more... staying here?”

“Oh, no, I’ve had my fill of socializing for one evening,” you laugh. “I think I’d rather spend some time with you and... Emily, is it?”

As you begin to move toward the doors which lead to the garden, he follows you at a ‘safe’ distance. “Yes... the others a-are out there, as well, so she was... t-trying to get to them... most likely.”

“Ah, you’ve got more snakes? How many?”

Of course, your question is answered as soon as you walk out into the garden. You count no less than nine snakes outside, slithering amongst the bushes and rocks and dirt.

You set Emily down, then look over at Snake with a raised eyebrow. “... Well, are you going to introduce me?”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen someone blush so heavily before.

However, to his credit, he recovers quickly enough to lead you over toward one of the snakes to begin introductions.

You definitely like this man.

#Black Butler #Kuroshitsuji #Snake #Snake x reader #reader insert #romantic #fluff #drama #Safe & Sound AU #WE'VE GOT A MEET CUTE EVERYBODY!!! <3

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purple-dahlias · 1 year

Note

Reesker two miserable people meet at a wedding au? Lmao

Ava winces as she slips her feet out of the heels that were more suited to the description of a vice rather than a shoe, trying as inconspicuously as possible to massage away at least some of the pain. It wasn’t working.

Draining her glass, she curses Connor for convincing her to come along to this wedding of some Chicago socialite friend of his, and even more so for abandoning her to make pleasantries with the other guests, of whom she knew no one. It had left her in a position where she’d been obliged to make small talk with perfect strangers, and she was sure her face was starting to cramp from the effort of the forced smiles. And it didn’t help that she’d chosen the worst possible shoes for the occasion. If they could even be called shoes. So the first chance she had, Ava had made a beeline for a table in the corner, one where she could watch the comings and goings of all the guests, and where she was sure (mostly) no one would venture over to try and talk to her.

Leaning an elbow on the confetti-covered table, Ava rests her head in her hand, trying to distract herself by thinking about the OR schedule for tomorrow and how she planned to exact her revenge by giving Connor all the mundane procedures and paperwork.

Her thoughts, however, are interrupted by the scraping of a chair, and a more-than-audible sigh, and Ava looks up to see a woman in a deep green dress with curly brown hair seated across from her, frantically typing away on her phone. Clearly the woman senses Ava looking at her, and she herself looks up.

“You don’t mind me sitting here do you, it’s just this seems like—“

“The best place to be if you don’t want to be approached,” Ava finishes.

“Yeah,” the woman agrees. “Oh, you’re referring to me, aren’t you,” she continues, looking somewhat flustered.

Ava realises her error. For someone who always knew exactly what to say, it clearly wasn’t working out tonight. She puts it down to the agony her feet are in.

“No, no. Just. Most everyone else at this ridiculous event.”

“Take it you’re not one for weddings then?”

“Well. Definitely not ones where I don’t know anyone and I’ve been abandoned by the very man who practically begged me to come with him.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah. But how about you? You don’t exactly come across as someone who wants to be here either.”

“That would be because I don’t. My mother was supposed to be here, but she couldn’t make it and sent me instead and my boyfriend was supposed to come with me but, well, he’s not my boyfriend anymore and—“ the woman stops, suddenly aware of what she was saying. “Sorry, I don’t know why I decided to say all that to a perfect stranger, I don’t even know your name. Clearly tonight’s not my night.”

Ava waves her off. “No need to be sorry,” she assures. “That sounds like a lot to be dealing with in one night.”

“Yeah,” Sarah muses, trailing off. This woman didn’t even know the half of it.

“We’re a right miserable pair, aren’t we?” Ava laughs. “I’m Ava, by the way.”

“Sarah.”

Ava watches as Sarah fiddles with the watch around her wrist, and then with the owl pendant around her neck, and she realises what it is that has been bugging her about this woman.

“Not to be like that but… I’m sure I’ve seen you around at the hospital. Med?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m a psych resident there,” Sarah tells her, glad for the change in subject. She didn’t exactly want to be airing the details of her personal life at a dimly lit table at a wedding reception in front of a perfect stranger.

“CT surgeon.”

“Oh, you must know Connor then? Dr Rhodes?”

Ava purses her lips. “Yes. He’s actually here. Somewhere around.”

“Really?”

“I know, I too was shocked to find out that not only does our Dr Rhodes know people, they also more than tolerate him.”

Sarah stifles a laugh.

“So, Sarah, how long you planning on staying here?”

“Not long much longer. I’ve been seen by the people I was supposed to be here for, so,” she shrugs. “How about you?”

“As soon as I regain feeling in my feet, I’m out of here. Connor can stay. This is the last time I ever do any favours for him,” she punctuates her words waving a black heel in the air.

“You driving?” Sarah asks, concerned.

Ava groans, realising. “Connor drove us. I’ll have to call an Uber or something.”

“I can drive you? I don’t mind,” Sarah offers, quietly.

“No, no you’ve already had an ordeal yourself this evening,” Ava says firmly.

“It’s fine, really,” Sarah insists, and Ava doesn’t really have enough fight in her to say no.

“Well then we’re stopping off to get food on the way. The stuff here is abysmal. I’m sure even the hospital cafeteria food is better than whatever they’ve got going on here.”

Sarah laughs, and Ava thinks it’s a nice sound. Though perhaps she’d had one too many glasses to drink that evening.

“Deal.”

#ask #this is terrible lol #sarah reese #ava bekker #reesker #< kind of? more like pre-reesker #chicago med #cj tag

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forabeatofadrum · 2 years

Text

Either or

I got tagged by @martsonmars

slow burn or love at first sight // fake dating or secret dating // enemies to lovers or best friends to lovers // oh no there’s only one bed or long-distance correspondence // hurt-comfort or amnesia // fantasy au or modern au // mutual pining or domestic bliss // smut or fluff // canon-compliant or fix-it // reincarnation or character death // one-shot or multi-chapter // kid fic or road trip fic // arranged marriage or accidental marriage // high school romance or middle aged romance // time travel or isolated together // neighbours or roommates // sci-fi au or magic au // body swap or gender bend // angst or crack // apocalyptic or mundane

Under the cut, because I also decided to go nuts with explanations.

slow burn or love at first sight

Marta, I fully agree with everything that you wrote in your post. I think the best way I’ve ever heard it, is when The Good Place said “If soulmates do exist, they're not found, they're made”, I felt that. Or I guess I did. Another reason why love at first sight doesn’t do it for me is my aro ass just cannot relate to any kind of romantic attraction, but especially not “I see a person and I am in love!” story. Not to say that I don’t enjoy them (heck, I’ve written this trope), but slow burn is an easy choice.

fake dating or secret dating

Fake dating can be a lot of fun and I am very much looking forward to more of @captain-aralias‘s Unintended, but I like the extra layer of secret dating, especially when it isn’t very clear from the beginning. Or even if it IS, and you just want to know how this will unfold (like the Klaine fic Rivalmance).

enemies to lovers or best friends to lovers

Once again in line with that quote from The Good Place: I like the idea of a relationship forming over time and friendship is a good base. Once again, I don’t hate Enemies to Lovers (like, I ship Snowbaz and Firstprince), but I am all for the Growth!

oh no there’s only one bed or long-distance correspondence

Okay, this might be kind of cheating? Why? Well, because I, uh, don’t think I’ve ever actually read an “there’s only one bed” fic. Shocking, I know. I just know of the trope, like everyone does. It’s just that long-distance correspondence doesn’t appeal me as a standalone. I mean, if it is part of a series like Crescendos in The Symphony Verse, but otherwise.... hm..... I don’t know. I do like epistolary and online identities etc. (GOD I WONDER WHAT FIC LED TO THAT CONCLUSION), but again, assuming these tropes are all for standalone fics, I gotta go for the classics.

hurt-comfort or amnesia

Amnesia is a trope that I never got. That is the main reason I wrote my Myosotis series, to explore a trope I don’t particulary like. But that’s mostly because it feels like a “been there, done that” thing, you know? Predictability does not make a bad story, but most of the time it follows a formula. Hurt-comfort on the other hand is A Lot, including amnesia. Give me the angst.

fantasy au or modern au

I dig both, but in the end I just prefer the Relatability a modern au offers over the Escapism from fantasy au. But overall, it depends on the fandom. I like reading fics in settings that make sense, so I actually prefer magic over non-magickal for Carry On fics, and on the same vein I’d pick a realistic setting for Glee. Again, it doesn’t have to be (catch me trying to nominate Endymion Fell at every possible book club category in the Lima Bean). Even I have written non-magickal Snowbaz and fantasy Klaine, but ya know.

mutual pining or domestic bliss

Another hard one. Both are great. I suppose that in the end I love the drama more. I am definitely an angsty writer/reader and mutual pining is great for that, especially when they don’t know it is mutual.

smut or fluff

Yes, yes, yes, angst galore, but I can appreciate some fluff. With this decision it’s just that I don’t read smut, so it is an easy pick. Although I have some more Thots on this topic, but I will post that soon. Hopefully. In another post.

canon-compliant or fix-it

Another one where it is heavily context-dependent and I don’t have an overall preference for one of them. It’s something that someone also mentioned in the CO Discord when we did those trope tier lists. I love canon-compliant for Check, Please! or Carry On fics, because canon didn’t let me down there. Glee, on the other hand, oh boy.... OH BOY, give me that fucking fix-it.

reincarnation or character death

I mean, look at my obsession with @cutestkilla‘s What’s Left, @artsyunderstudy‘s The Mirrors that Hold Us and @facewithoutheart‘s On Love’s Light Wings. And then there’s of course @urban-sith‘s deathcember. The CO fandom really delivers on this trope and it made me love it. Maybe this would be another context dependent thing, but I have no real “experience” with reincarnation, so I picked character death.

one-shot or multi-chapter

This is actually hard to answer, because the thing I look at in the end is word count. A 20K fic can be a one-shot or a 5 part multi-chapter.

kid fic or road trip fic

Hahahaha. This is quite funny. Up until this point I never really thought about how much I actually like kid fics. Fuck, I even made an entire post with my favourite kid OCs in Klaine fics years ago and I think about them still. And again, the CO fandom is out here making me appreciate the trope, with @martsonmars‘s fics The Curse of the 31 Cheeseburgers and The Dragon, The Sword, and The Knight coming to mind now. I ate a McDonald’s cheeseburger this weeked. It made me think of Leo. (And like Leo, I don’t want pickles!). Also, does namesakes by @tea-brigade count, because that one is also stellar.

arranged marriage or accidental marriage

I honestly don’t read either of these, but just the thought of arranged marriage makes me very uncomfortable, whereas accidental marriage can lead to possible humour in my eyes. So I maybe should’ve left this one blank, but I still feel like I have some preference here.

high school romance or middle aged romance

I am so done with high schools (I say, as I rewatch Heartstopper), but no jokes aside, I am so done with high school AUs, high school books, high school TV shows. They’re not bad (again, see Heartstopper), but I realised a while ago that I started preferring characters in their 20s like me, so not quite middle aged, but I have read some and yeah, it was fun.

time travel or isolated together

I am not a fan of historical, so I suppose that rules out time travel, unless it’s in a Doccy Whomst sort of way. Can’t say that isolated together is something to write home about, but like everyone, I did devour some quaratine fics to cope in beginning 2020 so it was fine.

neighbours or roommates

“And they were-” neighbours. Maybe this is something personal or whatever. As in, I hate living with roommates. Why would I willingly read a story about roommates? I mean, okay, okay, I concede that found family trope is right up my alley and roommates is one of the best way to do so (Check, Please! anyone?), but I like the distance that neighbours still brings. Does that make sense? Oh my god they were neighbours.

sci-fi au or magic au

I, uh, see both of these as two peas of the same pod, ya know? And what I said about settings while answering the modern/fantasy au still stands here.

body swap or gender bend

I was going to leave this one blank again, but then I remembered I went through a HUGE gender bend Glee phase back in 2012. As in, I read fics of it, I wrote fics of it, reblogged fanart, read HC posts, even followed RPG groups. Man, what the fuck. That’s so wack to think since I also don’t think I ever cared about it again after that, although I do know that I have a partial gender bend Glee fic in my hospital somewhere (as in, only Kurt and Blaine are gender bent and they’re aware of the change). So, huh, that happened.

angst or crack

Angst! Angst! Angst! I love me some angst! I have a personal joke where I also say that I cannot have crack without at least some angst. And Thirst Trapped by @facewithoutheart definitely delivered there. I actually reread it two days ago. So I can definitely, absolutely, totally enjoy a good crack fic, but the angst keeps winning.

apocalyptic or mundane

Where’s that one Tweet about fanfic being the greatest fantasy and then it’s just characters having A Good Fucking Day? Due to my angst loving nature, I suppose I wouldn’t turn away an apocalyptic story, but even mundanity can bring drama! Oh no, who is doing the dishes?

As for tags, to not clog up people’s notifications, I grouped this together with my WIP Wednesday. Hopefully, you found your way here after seeing the tag on there.

#tag game #yeehaw

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rosuuu · 2 years

Text

Beyond the Music Room - Chapter 1: The Moment feelings overlap

TWST Idol AU x Reader (Twisted Idolland)

Everyone has a dream, that’s what I believe, wholeheartedly no matter how naive I may come off. Everyone deserves to have at least one of their dreams come true- er mostly everyone.

According my philosophy I should be happy for him, he’s never out rightly said he wanted to be an Idol but he always was so gifted with the art of music. Regardless maybe I was being selfish after all he never hindered my happiness

“You’re going to… audition? And to Pomefiore none the less!”

I felt a lump grow in my throat, how selfish of me.

He pursed his lips together, before clenching his hands into fists where he sat across from me in the small cafe we frequented.

“Yes…”

A long and agonizing silence followed, and for once we couldn’t tell what each other were thinking, I didn’t know what to say, what do you say in the situation? The once mundane conversations were now gone and for once I was itching to end this encounter

Panic hit me like a tsunami, shakily taking a bit of my pastry I choke out my next words

“Are….are you sure you really want to do this?”

Epel slightly glares at me, and I hold the teacup between my hands a bit tighter, he was always like this, taking concern as being pitied, looked down on. The idol industry was no playground, the slightest move and your career is over, you so much as smile the wrong way and everything is over

“What’s that supposed to mean.”

“What do you mean, Epel I- I’m just- are you really sure! Like what about your grandma who’s gonna take care of her when you busy with concerts and rehearsals I-!”

My voice dies in my mouth and I trail off I look down at the table in front of me, embarrassed from my out burst and His eyes, once swirling with a raging ocean of anger, soften, he places his hands over one of mine and out of reflex I slap it away. Much to the shock of us both

“Epel- I”

The soft vibrations of my phone cut me off

It was cowardly, I won’t deny but when I saw the familiar glow on my cellphone, the caller’s name could be painted in a positive light, for once in my life. Sparing Epel a glance he clicked his tounge as I sighed and lifted my phone to my ear

“..Mother.”

The name rolled of my tounge bitterly

“Oh (Y/N), darling! Why the hostile tone after all I’m I your doting mother aren’t I?”

No response

“What do you want, Mother”

“Honestly I wonder where you got your manners from, No matter, your father and I have a meeting with a potential business, both he and his son will be coming over in a bit, I expect you to be on you best behaviour, his son is around your age after all”

I shouldn’t be suprised, I was basically an insurance policy for my parents if a business deal should fail, not that It’s ever happend though my distaste towards them they knew their way around the business world

After all how else would they go from a picture perfect family living happily in the country side to one of the biggest fruit produce companies in Twisted Wonderland

“Yes mother.”

“Good I expect you to not dissapoint me.”

Click

Letting out the breath I didn’t know I was holding I shakily lowered the phone from my ear, I looked back at Epel, I knew that look, he always hated when my parents dragged me into their business ploys especially when it involved me to entertain the sons’ though I never did know why

“Look Epel, I’ve gotta go, I’ll see you around”

Securing my bag on my shoulder I payed and left, still unaware of the 2 pairs or eyes glued to us

“Shit” Epel mumbled, burying his head in his hands

-??? POV-

“Rook, why are we here?” I spoke up as our targets companion left, I must admit they weren’t unpleasant to see though.

“Oh, Rui du Poison, you wound me so, we still need a third member and if my intuition is correct. This boy might check off all the boxes

-Epel POV-

In the darkness of my room I stare the the bright words illuminating my room, my curtains were closed preventing the bright afternoon sun from disturbing me.

‘Application Submitted!’

It wasn’t like I would get accepted anyway, there had to be what millions of applicants’ if I was lucky they wouldn’t even look at mine. According to that logic I’m not exactly sure why I took the time to submit an application maybe for closure, or the hope that card was meant for me.

The application process was simple, a resume including your standard mana level, age, height, and finally an application video, if anything would make of break my chances it was that damn video, it could be so much better. No it would be if (Y/N) was there too.

“Ahh what are I even thinking, I must be delusional”

Walking toward my curtains and swiftly opening them I glare at the apple trees I’ve gotten so used too. Taking a seat by the ledge of my window I pull my left leg to my chest, resting my head on it I close my eyes.

“…I wonder how (Y/N) is doing”

-(Y/N) POV-

I hate this, you’d think that after all these years something would change, then again maybe it was too much to wish for, Epel was stubborn, and he didn’t take shit from anyone besides I didn’t even tell him that I didn’t want him to apply

I can’t just expect him to always know what I’m thinking, that’s not fair, I should support him , I should be there for him, when did I get so selfish, I wonder if he decided to apply, should I cal him

Shifting onto my side from where I laid on my bed I check my notifications

‘You have no new notifications’

What did I even expect I need to get my head out of the clouds rolling back onto my back I close my eyes for a moment rest

“(Y/N)! Our guests are here!”

Dammit

Beyond the Music Room - Chapter 1: The Moment feelings overlap

TWST Idol AU x Reader (Twisted Idolland)

-end-

Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Author’s Note~

I feel like this chapter was short I’ll make sure to write more for chapter 2. Btw who do you think the special guest is?

Taglist! (Ask or Dm to be added or Removed)

@sunnyshineblaze @lionar0und @cupids-chamber

@hearts-like-iron @raix-lv @lucian-kinnder

#disney twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #disney twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #epel felmier x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #rook hunt x reader #pomefiore x reader #savanaclaw x reader #heartslabyul x reader #octavinelle x reader #scarabia x reader #ignyhide #diasomnia x reader #twst idol

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darthfrodophantom · 2 years

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The Boy with the Metal Choker

Summary: Sam meets the seemingly normal Danny at a cafe while trying to avoid her ex. They fall in love and try to build a life together, but only one thing stands in the way of their happiness: the mysterious metal choker that Danny always wears and refuses to take off. Why does he refuse to remove it and why is everyone so cryptic about it?

My next phic phight submission! This is based on an old scary story I read and loved when I was a child. So now you get my Danny Phantom version of this old folk tale. See if you can recognize it!

Prompt: Danny sits at the bar alone, when Sam whispers in his ear. ‘I’m so sorry but can you kiss me, my Ex is here and I really don’t want to talk to him right now.’ (PR185) - for @xsailorsakurax

Prompt: Prosthetic Soul au. Danny dies and his parents use ectoplasm to heal his body. They create a poltergeist, which thinks it actually is Danny, as a prosthetic soul, so their son can live again. (PR064) - for @dp-marvel94

cw: dead Danny Fenton, implied character death, horror elements, Prosthetic Soul AU, Corpse AU (kinda), angst

https://archiveofourown.org/works/38425234

The story begins on a normal day, in a normal coffee shop, filled with seemingly normal people.

A dark-haired girl sat alone at a table in the center of a coffee shop. She listlessly stirred her coffee as she watched the other patrons. The girl liked to people-watch in the coffee shop. She liked to make up fantastical reasons for their mundane actions. The red-faced man furiously typing wasn’t trying to meet a deadline; he was in a hacking war against a terrorist to preserve national secrets. The three teenagers in the corner whispering to each other weren’t incurable gossips; they were witches casting spells on those who wronged them. The dark-haired boy sitting alone wasn’t just another bored college student like her; he was a dread pirate hiding behind a naive face waiting to whisk someone away into a life of adventure.

The girl thought he was cute.

Her gaze lingered on his haunting blue eyes too long. He noticed. She quickly looked back at her coffee. She tried to look anywhere but his table. She found relief when a new patron entered the coffee shop and she hoped he would provide a distraction. It was not the distraction she wanted. The tall patron with the white, spiked hair was her ex-boyfriend, and the girl panicked. She worked hard to break up with him, for he was clingy and not right for her, and she knew he would sit at her table if he saw her.

In her panic, the girl’s gaze was drawn back to the dark-haired boy alone at a table. An idea formed in her mind, but could she do it? The ex-boyfriend had finished ordering his coffee - she didn’t have much time. She picked up her coffee and her bag and quietly moved over to the boy’s table. He looked at her with curious eyes, and she interrupted any question he might have wanted to ask by leaning forward.

“I know you don’t know me,” she whispered in a rush, “but that’s my ex-boyfriend over there–no don’t look. Can we please pretend we’re dating? And when he turns around, can I kiss you?”

The girl knew she was asking for a lot. She probably wouldn’t do it if someone asked her. She could only hope the boy could hear her desperation.

“I…what?” the boy asked as he pulled back in shock. “You want me to…wait, am I being set up?”

She looked towards the coffee bar. She heard them call his name. He would be turning around soon. “It’s not a set up. Please.”

“I…okay,” the boy agreed.

Just in time, the girl leaned in to press her lips against his. His lips were chilly, but not unpleasantly so, and they tasted like coffee and citrus. She placed her hand on his to sell the act. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the ex-boyfriend walk past them and out of the shop. She broke the kiss and breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” she told him, and her smile was honest.

“Oh yeah uh, don’t mention it,” he replied as he ran a hand nervously through his spiked hair. She also found that cute.

That’s when she first noticed the choker. A thin metal band, no taller than an inch, encircled his neck. The light gray metal was etched with dark grooves running in a circuit board pattern. A bright green piece of metal stood out on the side of the band. The boy noticed her eyes linger on the choker, and he averted his gaze. She looked away as well.

“Let me buy you another coffee,” she offered. “Least I can do after that weird request.”

He looked unsure. Maybe she shouldn’t have stared at the choker for so long? Finally he spoke. “Uh yeah, sure. This one was pretty much gone anyway,” he tried to joke.

The girl nodded as she stood. “I’m Sam, by the way.”

“Danny,” the boy introduced.

She bought them both more coffee and sat down at his table again, and they started to talk. They found a similar interest in video games and music. Sam learned that Danny loved space. Danny learned that Sam loved fighting for the environment. Danny admitted he liked Sam’s laugh. Sam admitted she liked Danny’s smile. They spent longer in the coffee shop than either of them planned.

As they talked, the girl’s eyes were drawn to the choker. The part of her mind that spun up wild stories for normal things supplied her with unhelpful reasons for why he’d be wearing the choker. Finally she asked him about the metal choker, and he just shrugged.

“My parents told me to never take it off, so I won’t.”

She didn’t press him.

–

The girl named Sam and the boy named Danny started dating. They fell more and more in love with each passing day. They found more shared interests the more they learned about each other. Days grew to months, and their relationship grew strong. But still Sam wondered about the metal choker. Most times she realized she could ignore it, but sometimes it was all she could see. She noticed that when his neck moved, the choker moved, like it was attached to his neck and not just resting on it.

“We’ve been dating for awhile now,” she would ask. “Will you tell me why you wear that metal choker?”

Danny would shrug. “I’m not supposed to take it off, so I won’t.”

She always wanted to ask more about it, but she was so enamored with the thrill of new love that she let it go.

–

After a few months of dating, Sam asked Danny to move in with her. She left the oppressive home of her parents as soon as she could and lived in a modest apartment, but Danny still lived with his parents. His parents were never unkind to her, but she found them over-protective and cautious. She always got the impression they liked her as a person, but didn’t like that she was in a relationship with their son. They always seemed worried about something, but she couldn’t figure out what.

“But Danny, what about–” Sam overheard his mother protest once.

“We’ll figure it out. I want this Mom. What was the point of everything if I can’t live my life?” he asked her. Sam assumed he had to be talking about the choker.

It took a lot of work and a lot of convincing, but eventually a girl named Sam and a boy named Danny moved in together. They celebrated their first night with a party, and they invited their friends and Danny’s sister to the festivities. The sister kept a keen, though distant watch on Danny through the night, and it reminded Sam of the overprotective way his parents watched him.

That night when Danny crawled into bed, Sam noticed that he still wore the metal choker. She didn’t ask him about it that first night, because maybe he was too tired from the party to realize it was still on. But the next night he also wore the choker to bed. And the night after that. Sometimes in the dark of night, as she tried to fall asleep, she could swear she’d see it glow with an eerie green light out of the corner with her eye, but when she turned around it was gone.

One night, she couldn’t help but ask. “Danny, do you really sleep with that metal choker on every night?”

“Yeah,” he said matter of factly, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” she pressed further.

“Not really,” he replied. “I’m used to it by now. Do the cuffs on your ears bother you when you sleep? Besides, I’m not supposed to take it off, so I won’t.”

She really couldn’t counter that comparison, so she dropped it, but its constant presence made her uneasy.

–

The relationship between a girl named Sam and a boy named Danny blossomed as they lived together. Outside of the overprotective gaze of his parents, Sam got a feel for who Danny was at his core. She also noticed weird things around the house. Cold spots lingered in the apartment in places that Danny frequented. Her car radio never came in quite as clear when Danny was in the car with her. She mentioned it to Danny once, but he looked uncomfortable, so she dropped it. They were only mild inconveniences and curiosities and not worth upsetting him over.

But sometimes she would hear him gasp or grunt in pain, and his hand would shoot to his neck or his left forearm. His face would contort in pain and he’d screw his eyes shut.

“Danny, are you okay?” she asked once. “Can I help?”

“I’m fine,” he assured her with a dull voice. When he met her gaze, she could swear she saw a green sheen over his blue eyes. It disappeared as soon as she saw it, so it had to be a trick of the light. “It’s just carpal tunnel.”

“Are you sure it’s not the metal choker? Maybe if we–”

“No,” he interrupted her firmly. “That’s not it. I’m not supposed to take it off, so I won’t.”

She felt like he was lying, but he was clearly in pain and she knew she couldn’t help make him see sense when he was like this, so she didn’t press further.

–

After a couple years, the girl named Sam and the boy named Danny got married. Despite the frustrations surrounding the metal choker and the oddities that happened around him, Sam loved him, and she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. He hadn’t made any advances about proposing, so she took it in her own hands and did it herself. He was shocked and hesitated, but eventually said yes. His parents weren’t happy, but in the end Danny made them come around.

The wedding was a beautiful ceremony filled with family and friends. Sam was a vision in her simple, elegant white dress, and Danny looked handsome in his black suit. But when they united for the beginning of the ceremony and Danny lowered her veil with a smile, Sam noticed the light catch on the metal choker under his suit collar. She tried to ignore the twinge of frustration at seeing it, because she didn’t know why she expected anything different, but she had hoped that maybe today would be the day he took it off.

She tried to ignore it. This was a happy day, and she wanted to focus on that happiness and their love. She forced herself to push it out of her mind and focus on their vows and the ceremony. They promised to love each other always and promised each other a life of happiness, and she meant it. Strange metal choker or not, she loved him, and she wanted to show him that love and celebrate it today.

But when the photographer pulled them aside to take their solo pictures, she just had to ask. “Are you going to wear that choker for our wedding pictures?”

“You can barely see it under the suit,” he dismissed.

“But of all days, couldn’t you take it off today?” she pleaded.

“I’m not supposed to take it off, so I won’t,” he parroted, almost on auto-pilot.

She was disappointed, but tried not to show it. Maybe she just had to accept that the metal choker was a part of him, and she’d just have to deal with it.

–

The girl named Sam and the boy named Danny lived a happy married life for years, and they filled their lives with many happy memories and lots of love. But still the mystery of the metal choker persisted between them. Sam had hoped that maybe within the trust of their marriage he would finally tell her about the reason for its existence, but he never did. She tried to stop asking, because it only irritated him, but she wanted to know. It sat there unanswered in her mind, and it bothered her, more than she wanted to admit.

If it had been something medical, like a prosthetic or a medical device, she would immediately push it out of her mind. Even if it was something ceremonial or important to him, she’d let it go. She just needed an answer, but she never received a satisfactory one.

As the years passed, Sam realized they were having difficulty conceiving. She went to a specialist, who informed her nothing was wrong on her end. She tried to ask Danny to get himself worked up so they could identify the source of the problem, but he refused. He always refused medical treatment. He said his parents made sure he was healthy, even though they were scientists and not medical providers. Danny said they just needed to keep trying.

Frustrated with Danny’s lack of interest in finding an answer, she did the only thing she could think of and went to the Doctors Fenton, his parents. The Doctors Fenton studied alternative energy sources (according to them) but outside of that she didn’t really know much about their science. She heard the word ‘ectoplasm’ once, but figured she’d just heard wrong. She’d seen a few of their inventions around their house, and they bore a resemblance to the choker around Danny’s neck. She knew they designed it, and she knew they knew more about it than they let on. She also knew it had to have something to do with their infertility. If Danny wouldn’t or couldn’t provide an answer, then maybe they would.

If Danny didn’t like being asked about the choker, the Doctors Fenton liked it even less. His mother was outwardly hostile and protective. His father looked guilty, but firmly shut down questions.

“It keeps Danny safe,” his mother told Sam.

“But safe from what?” Sam pressed.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” his father replied, “because he’s safe.”

“You need to stop asking about it,” his mother demanded.

Later that night, Sam and Danny had one of their biggest fights. Danny was furious Sam went behind his back and talked to his parents. Sam was furious Danny wouldn’t be open with her. They were both frustrated about the infertility and the problems it was bringing to light.

“Please don’t ask my parents about it again,” Danny requested, though it didn’t sound like a request.

“I only did it because you won’t be honest with me!” Sam yelled back.

“I’ve told you what I can!” he defended.

“No, you’ve told me what you want! Big difference!” she snapped.

“No. I have told you what I can,” he emphasized slowly. “I just need you to trust me on this.”

She had to leave the room. She had to take a walk to calm down. She didn’t know why she thought she would get answers from either of them, but she hoped she’d been in their lives long enough to deserve the truth.

–

The girl named Sam and the boy named Danny never spoke about that argument again, but it hung in the air between them. They got along, but there was a distance between them. From Sam’s perspective, the distance looked like the band of that metal choker.

She hated that damn choker. She hated all the secrets behind it. She hated all the lies. It was just high enough on his neck that she saw it all the time. When they slept, when they ate, when they were intimate, when they showered, when they did chores. That metal choker was always there and she didn’t know why. No one would tell her. She couldn’t look at him anymore without seeing it. She had started getting used to it and didn’t always see it, but that wasn’t the case anymore. And every time she saw it, she grew hot and angry and frustrated. It wasn’t even about the actual choker anymore, but it had turned into a symbol for all the lies and the secrecy behind it. It was the lack of trust.

One night in bed she tossed and turned and couldn’t sleep. She could swear that odd green light woke her up again, but when she looked at Danny it was gone. And there was that choker. For the first time in their five years together, she reached over and actually touched the choker. The metal felt surprisingly icy, but then again Danny always felt a little cold. She leaned over and slipped the tips of her fingers under the lip and pulled it away from his neck.

She gasped and backed up quickly across the bed. Sharp needles covered the inside lining of the choker. There were so many of them, almost like the surface of a cactus, or an iron maiden, and all of those spikes penetrated into Danny’s neck.

Danny heard her gasp and woke up. He turned to face her, eyes concerned, but his blue eyes looked slightly glassy and unfocused. His skin was pale. “Sam what’s wrong? What–” He reached a hand up to his neck and felt the choker askew on his neck. He pushed it into his neck again and Sam winced noticeably that he shoved those needles back into his neck again without flinching. The color returned to his face. His eyes cleared up, and she could swear she saw that green sheen over them again. A trickle of thick, green fluid slid out from the bottom of the choker and down his chest.

“Sam, what were you thinking?” he asked sharply.

“It’s stuck into your neck!” she cried out in panic.

“Sam you can’t–” he tried to explain away, but she shook her head.

“No! It’s stuck into your neck!” she repeated. “We have to get it off you!”

He looked panicked. “No! I’m not supposed to take it off! I know it looks bad, and I know you’re trying to help, but don’t. Sam, I’m begging you, please, don’t touch it again.”

She could see the absolute terror in his eyes. Suddenly pieces started falling into place, pieces that had always been so infuriatingly close to fitting together except she was missing the final clue. Words like “not supposed to” and “my parents told me” and “I’ve told you what I can” came flooding back to her. She remembered the seemingly random bouts of pain that seemed to originate from the choker, and how they increased the more time he spent living with her. She remembered how protective his parents always were of him, and how much control and involvement they seemed to have over his life. It all came to one terrifying realization:

It wasn’t a choker - it was a collar.

“Sam?” Danny asked, shaking her out of her thoughts. “Will you leave it alone?”

She nodded slowly. “You’re not supposed to take it off, so you won’t,” she parroted in a deadpan, but Danny seemed to accept it.

Maybe he couldn’t take it off, but she could. She could save him.

–

The girl named Sam had to be careful how she planned this. She didn’t know how much control the Doctors Fenton had over her husband, but she couldn’t mess this up. She saw Danny experience multiple instances of pain the days following her investigation into the collar. She tried to be supportive, but she knew Danny was in pain because his parents were punishing him for her stunt with the collar.

She started sleeping with her side table lamp on so she could spend many sleepless nights examining the collar. She knew better than to touch it - she didn’t know what kind of sensors they built into it - but she mapped it out visually. She noticed ports that she’d never seen before along the edge of the green piece of metal. One looked like a micro-USB port, but the other almost looked like a medical port. She thought she found a latch, hidden along the bottom edge of the collar along the back of his neck. If Danny was in the right sleeping position, she could pull the latch and pull it off and then he’d be free.

She waited for the right opportunity when finally she caught him lying half on his stomach and half on his side. She steeled her nerves, reached over to the source of all their marital pain and Danny’s physical pain, and pulled on the latch. It released with a hiss and emitted an eerie green light, the one she swore she’d seen time and time again out of the corner of her eye. Before anything more could happen she pulled as much of the collar away from his neck as she could.

Danny sat up in alarm. The collar clanked as it fell into his lap. Green ooze leaked out of each of the needles. Danny reached his hands around his neck. The same green fluid slid down his neck from each of the many puncture marks, but never any blood. His skin grew pale. Branching scars she’d never seen before traveled up from his left hand along his arm and shoulder. He turned to face her, his body moving so stiffly. He looked upon her with glassy, lifeless eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound ever came out.

His body collapsed, lifeless, onto the bed.

Sam screamed and rushed over to him. She pulled his hands away from his neck and despite the strange liquid, she placed a hand to his neck. No pulse. His neck was frigid, colder than his unnaturally chilly skin ever felt. She held a hand near his mouth, but she couldn’t feel a breath. “Danny!” she cried as she shook him. “Danny no!”

What happened? She was trying to save him! This was supposed to save him! He wasn’t supposed to be–

Dead.

She stopped as she saw a green light glow from within his chest, highlighting a vertical scar along his breastbone that hadn’t been there before. She backed away, unsure what was happening.

The entire room grew cold and the light flickered. A glowing shape emerged from his chest. A vaguely humanoid blob assembled in the air. Two bright green lights distinguished its eyes from the rest of its glowing, transparent form. It looked like a…it was a…

A ghost.

It looked from Danny’s body to its own body and back and forth again before it finally looked at Sam.

Sam, what did you do? The breathless sigh of its words echoed across her mind as a chill ran up her spine. I wasn’t supposed to take it off.

It flew out through the wall of their bedroom and into the night sky. She pulled herself out of her shocked stupor to run to the window, crying after the ghost as it flew out of sight. She called it Danny, but was it really Danny? Was Danny the corpse in her bed, or the ghost that flew off into the night?

She thought of so many possible explanations for that metal collar, but never this. Never that her husband had been a ghost sealed into a corpse.

Removing the collar was supposed to answer all her questions. It was supposed to save their marriage, save him. And now she was left with so many more questions. But one thing she knew for sure:

She never should have removed the choker.

A/N: So this is based on a story called “The Green Ribbon” from a book called In a Dark, Dark Room and Other Scary Stories, but as I was looking it up more, it’s actually a very common folk tale that can be traced back to the French Revolution. Another common name for the tale is The Girl with the Velvet Band/Ribbon/Choker. There are a lot of different versions, but they usually have the same feel: boy meets girl, girl wears something around her neck and refuses to answer why she wears it, and when she removes it she dies. The endings vary with the different versions: sometimes it’s removed too soon and sometimes she finally removes it on her deathbed.

Anyways, I tried to write it like a folk story to honor its roots, so I hope this little experiment worked!

#Danny Phantom #phic phight 2022 #Phic Phight #prosthetic soul au #meet cute #but then it goes wrong #angst #fanfiction #sam manson #danny fenton #dead danny fenton #based on a horror folk story #girl with the velvet band #the green ribbon #in a dark dark room and other scary stories

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slasherrabbitmadness · 3 years

Text

Bo Sinclair x Female Reader

THIS is a NONCON fic. Please don't read and then get shocked at what you read. You are reading this at your own risk! You cannot get shocked at the content here if you are sensitive to NONCON and read anyways. I am not responsible if you choose to still read this and it's upsetting. Also, there is Forced Breeding included! Read at your own risk.

When I get an AO3, I will be posting this there.

Underthecut - NSFW, NON-CON, Cheating -forced- Oral -Female receiving- Forced Breeding/Forced pregnancy, Degradation. Tagged as Dark Fic

Sinclair Brothers College AU Part 2 Part 1 is here!

Bo will never forget that morning. Never forgot your angelic face buried into his brother's chest, Vincent's face buried into the top of your head, nose nuzzled into your hair.

His voice had hurt for the three days after all the screaming he had done, his knuckles bruised for weeks after he and Vincent drew blows.

He could still hear your screaming, this shrill piercing scream for him to stop. To stop hurting him, to stop hurting Vincent.

Not one scream for him, his well-being.

Bo left the room with a bruised lip and ego.

The image of you comforting Vincent, rubbing his knuckles, kissing his cheek burned in his head. He replayed it over and over.

Bo couldn't get over how everyone seemed to approve of the whole ordeal.

That friend of yours had come running up to you, congratulating you on finally getting with Vincent. Even her tall British boyfriend paid a compliment.

His own friends even poked fun, how stupid he was not to see Vincent slowly making his moves. Vincent and you at the Dairy Queen, you at his art show, how both of you spent hours at the library.

How'd he miss all that?

Bo walked into his dorm, slamming the door behind him as he whipped off his hat, he frowned as he flopped onto the bed. back against the wall as he took in the room.

The large varnished bricks painted a light blue, years of new coats of paint chipping off in the corners. The yellow fluorescent light struggling to light up the room, no doubt the same light from when the dorm was built.

Bo took in his brother's side. Neat, save for a few books littered around, a few on his desk, three on the floor, two on the bed, and Y/n's cellphone.

Bo shot up, eagerly rushing over to Vincent's bed, hands immediately on your phone. He held it in his hands, smirking at the pink phone case with a bear's face on the back. He swiped his thumb over the screen, he grits his teeth at the image of you and Vincent on your home screen. Vincent held his arm around you as he kissed your cheek.

"Putz," he mumbled to himself, Bo's thumb lingered over your lock screen. He pressed in the four numbers, "Shit. She must have changed it." Bo looked up, going over what your new passcode could be. The old one was the date you and him started dating. Bo made sure it was that, and that way he had access to your phone whenever you were careless enough to leave it about.

Bo smiled as he knew what the passcode was. If his brother was anything like him, he'd be just as possessive, "Ding!" Bo tapped his foot in excitement as your phone opened up, he went right to your gallery, brows turned down in disgust.

Picture after picture of you and Vincent. Some tame, others, Bo whistled at the picture of you sucking off Vincent. He hated it, seeing your pretty little face lavish his brother's cock, but for Bo, it was easy just to picture his own in its place.

Another photo, you with your legs spread, hand over your mouth, embarrassed as your pussy was covered in Vincent's seed.

Bo groaned, "Little fuckin' whore." He pressed his feet into the ground, steadying himself. He was taken back to when he'd do the same to you, make you beg for his cum to coat your needy pussy. He licked his lips as he could hear your little whines and begs.

"Cum on my pussy, Bo." Fuck and you sounded so perfect.

"Cum on my pussy, Vinny." He cursed as your voice played over in his head. Hating how easily he could hear your sweet voice be so dirty for his brother.

Bo kept scrolling, his stomach churned, cock-stiffening as he scanned more and more pictures.

Videos, ranging from thirty seconds to two minutes in length. He pressed one, the image of you riding his brother played immediately.

"Oh, Vinny, your cocks making me feel so full." Bo groaned, he turned up the volume to hear the vulgar slaps of your ass against his brother's pelvis. "Oh, Fuck Vinny." Bo watched as you fell onto Vincent's chest as he lifted you, fucking up into you at a fast pace.

Bo watched till the end, his ears burning as your moans and whimpers wafted through the shitty phone speaker. He palmed his erection as he watched Vincent cum deep in you, his brother's disgusting grunts and growls had him snarling.

Bo's eyes remained on the screen. They widened as Vincent pulled out, carelessly spreading your legs open to the camera, both your face and Vincent are not visible, but your pussy was bared. He watches as his brother's seed leaked out of you, hearing Vincent mumbling at what a good little princess you are, how you were made to used, made to be a good little cum dump.

Bo shook, knuckles going white as he held the phone. Your whimpering approval of Vincent's words, how Vincent scooped his cum back up into you...

Bo snapped out of his anger as a text popped up,

-Hey, meet you at the library, I'll only be able to study briefly, I have a surprise shift at the hospital.-

Bo tapped it, immediately taken to your messages with Dan.

Everything between you and Dan was mundane. Study dates that often included Herbert and just random memes.

He exited out, looking over all the people you've been texting. Your texts with him deleted, he huffed as he continued. That girl dating the tall British guy. That weird Billy kid, Freddy, your mom, your boss, and Vincent.

He sat down on his bed as he went through the texts. Some of the texts were mundane, how are you, I'm good. I love you and can't wait to see you.

Bo froze, laughing to himself, leaning back onto the bed as he read the recent texts,

-Remember those awful cramps I've been having? My doctor said it was birth control. I'll be going off it for a few weeks and will be getting that Implanon thing.-

Bo checked the date, "Two weeks ago." he said to himself as he kept reading.

-So bad news, I won't get that Implanon thing for another month.-

-That's okay. We can keep it safe for now. One day though you'll be off that stuff ;)-

Bo shook his head, of course, his brother would be on that train of thought. Getting you pregnant. Watching your belly grow with babe.

Bo seethed, hand running down his front, cock pulsing at the image of you, begging for his cum, asking him to impregnate you. Your belly swelling with the Sinclair seed, his large hand rubbing over you, kissing your cheek, amazed at the changes in your body.

Your tits swelling, begging for Bo to ease the ache in them. Cock stiffening as he suckles on your tender tits.

Bo's attention was snapped back to reality as the door's handle justled. He quickly exited out of the texts, turned off the screen, and threw the phone on the bed, burying his face into his pillow, grunting as his cock angled into the bed painfully.

Vincent stepped in, sneering at his brother. "She forgot something, I won't be long." He mumbled, hand going for your phone.

"Y'her lap dog or some? She can't come get it herself?"

"I don't trust you alone with her." Vincent gave your phone a once over before grabbing a few books, "I'll be gone tonight, I work late, so you can invite that 'cute' girl from the bar." Vincent coughed as he finished his sentence.

"Yeah, yeah..." Bo eyed his brother, pulling his pillow closer into his face.

"You didn't touch this, did you?" Vincent waved the phone around, giving it a once over.

"Why would I touch her shit?"

Vincent shrugged his shoulders, "Bye," He opened the door, "Oh, and Lester is inviting us to a barbeque, he expects you to be there."

Bo flinched as his brother slammed the door. He sat up, freeing his cock, the images of you and Vincent still in his mind, the image of himself pushing Vincent away to replace Vincent's seed with his own...

"The library..." he said to himself, the image of you at the library, pushed over onto one of the corner desks, hidden away from everyone, his cock buried deep inside, pleading with him to cum inside.

Bo gripped the base of his cock, squeezing to let more of his precum drip out, watching as it fell along the side.

"That'd look a lot better in the place it belongs."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You and Vincent stood in front of the campus library, he ran his hands up and down your sides, pinching your ass when he dipped low.

"Vinny!" He playfully pinched his arm, kissing his cheek as you giggled.

"Can't help it, you're so cute." He kissed you again, tongue wrapping around yours, he pushed you closer into himself, your moan being suppressed by the kiss.

You reluctantly pulled away, "I gotta meet Dan. I need his help with my paper. Thanks for getting my phone."

Vincent nodded at you, kissing your cheek again, "I know, I don't want you near him, either."

You nod into his chest, inhaling his scent, linseed oil, and his farmer's market shampoo. You hum as he begins to sway you back and forth.

"I gotta go, see you tomorrow," He pulls away, hand rubbing over your cheek, his eye taking in your sad ones. "Be safe getting home."

"I will!" You shared a kiss goodbye as you excitedly entered the library.

You waved to norman at the front desk, he briefly looked up to give a small smile before returning to his large ornithology book on his desk.

You grinned and waved as you caught sight of Dan. He was in his scrubs with his Starbucks in his hand, smiling at you.

"I can help you for the next hour before I gotta go," He began as you sat in front of him, "Then I got my shift an-"

"Yes at the hospital, I know I know." You sat and opened your books, Dan grabbing one to flip through it, scanning for the important passage,

"Here, you'll want to start here, copy it, and then grab two more sources from the encyclopedias. Has to be from the books, not online."

You rubbed your temples, "Yeah, that's, a lot to take in."

Dan chuckled, "That's the advanced course for you."

You tapped your pencil on the paper of your books, "So, you hear about Brahms and his girl? The fight they had!"

Dan perked up, brown eyes filled with wonder.

The two of you immediately filled your time with gossip, the mention of Brahms's girlfriend and Billy was the only thing being studied.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bo strolled up to the library, "Twenty minutes to closing..." He shrugged his shoulders as he entered.

He looks around, the lights dimmed, the desk lamps off, save for the few remaining students.

"Can I help you?" Bo snapped his head to the thin, pale man at the front desk.

"Ah, yeah, where are the books on, like art and stuff," Bo looked at the nameplate, "Norman." Bo fumbled with his hands in his pockets.

"In the back," Norman gestured his head behind him, "In section eight hundred to eight hundred and fifty. Don't be long, we are closing soon." Norman sneered as he shuffled the papers on his desk.

"Yeah, thanks." Bo shook his head, as he caught Norman giving him a once over.

Bo clenched his fists as he heard Norman mumble "I don't even think he can read."

He made his way around the library, ducking behind the rows when he thought he saw you, any girl that resembled you had his heart clench in shock.

"No, Vinny, I can't talk right now, text it to me instead." Bo froze, his feet heavy, your voice was curt, he heard you grunt, knowing you just hung up on his brother.

Bo followed the voice, finding you tucked away in the private study area, the tables up against the walls, the lights were severely dimmed, Bo wondered how in the hell you could see the paper in front of you.

He carefully watched his steps, inching slowly behind you, grateful you were distracted in the book, grateful you secluded yourself so far away from everyone else.

A wolfish grin spread over his face, standing over you, he leaned in, hands snaking over you, rushing to silence your mouth,

"Hey, Sweets, miss me?"

Your blood went cold, eyes bulged, you attempted to turn but Bo held firm.

"Miss me? Huh? Ah, maybe you need to look at me first." He whispered into your ear, placing a feather-light kiss.

You retched away, guttural noises being silenced as Bo put a hand around your neck.

"Ah, no no, c'mon now, that any way to react to me? C'mon sweets, you used to beg me, beg me not to leave you, cry whenever I missed a date, moan for my cock to make you come." He chuckled as you squirmed in his arms, the chuckle turning into a soft laugh as you reached for your phone.

"Grabbing your phone for me? How nice of you, Sweets!" Bo whipped you around, slamming you onto the table as he chucked away the books, thankful they didn't fall onto the floor.

You began kicking at Bo, the panic making your blood run hot, giving you a surge of strength.

You knew Bo, knew how much stronger he was, knew you couldn't fight him off. The look in his eyes as his body leaned forward onto yours, chuckling off your kicks.

"Ah, hey, calm down," Bo squeezed on your neck, kissing your cheek as you sputtered out a whine, choking as you gasped for air.

Bo grabbed your phone, your eyes burning as he easily tapped the four-digit code to open it, he went right to the gallery, opening up the video of you and Vincent, "Look at you," The video played, Bo held the phone to your face, forcing you to look, "Taking my brother's cum in your slutty little pussy. Fuck what a good whore you are."

He exited out of the video, going to your texts, "So bad news, I won't get that Implanon thing for another month." He read aloud as he shook his head, "tsk tsk, and I bet you are still fucking, even when it's not safe. I mean, if my brother's anything like me, he won't wanna wrap that shit up."

Tears pooled in your eyes, slowly falling along the sides into your hair. Your eyes pleading with him, 'don't do this, please.'

Bo huffed as he pulled down your skirt, panties coming along with it. He took in your pussy, licking his bottom lip as he caught a glance at your shaved pussy, thankful that his brother has the same taste as him. "You look so good, that pussy nice and clean for me, gonna look good with my seed spilling out."

"I'll let you breathe properly if you promise to be quiet, can you do that for me?" His baby blues stared into your eyes, you wanted to hurl as you saw a sick softness to them.

"I'll, b-be- go-good." You choked. You gasped in sweet relief as bo removed his large hand from your neck. Your phone in his hand was held to your face as you realized he was filming.

"You better open up these legs for me, little whore like you should be used to spreading her legs, hm? Taking my brother's cock while dating me. Well, you can have my cock again, and I'm gonna make sure you'll never fucking forget this. Like I'll never fuckin' forget waking up to you." Bo placed the phone down, propping it up against your books, "With cum dripping out your pussy in Vincent's arms."

You looked away as you heard Bo's belt clink his zipper coming undone, "I can easily scream,"

"Scream? ha, the place is practically empty at this point, who's gonna come as you scream? 'Norman' I can tell he's already too self-absorbed to care for another." Bo leaned down, his breath hot over your cunt.

"Please don't, Bo please, I'll do anything!"

His signature cocky grin spread over his lips, "Oh, you will, first, I get a taste of this," He plunged his tongue in, a soft moan as your taste hit his tongue, his eyes looking up at you, then to the phone.

You squirmed as your walls involuntarily pulsed around his tongue. You squeezed your eyes shut, hips shaking as he flicked his tongue over your clit.

"You taste so good, fuck better than I remember," He sucked hard, laughing as you whimpered. "See, little slutty body like your can't help but react."

Wave after wave of pleasure crashed through you, Bo's large hand roaming your body, dipping under your shirt, sliding under your bra to squeeze your breast.

"Fuck it feels good too, remember how you used to beg me to suck on them?" He pinched your hardening nipple, "Look at the camera." He cooed.

He dipped two fingers into your heat, making you groan as he pressed down and sucked hard on your clit.

You breathed heavily through your nose, fighting the urge to let out a wanton moan. Tears flowed as your hips voluntarily bucked into Bo's face, his tongue sending wave after wave of euphoria through you that not even Vincent could manage.

Bo shook his head, a raspy moan muffled by the lewd noises your pussy made as he fingered you. He looked up, smirking into you, your pussy clenching around his fingers, how you covered your mouth to fight back the deep moan.

You ran your hand through Bo's brown hair, he moaned, taking the action as approval for his ministrations. You pushed on him, your airy moans muffled by your palm as you came. Bo stayed latched onto your clit, suckling and flicking it, tongue deep to your cunt to lap at you, groaning as it pulsed around his muscle.

Bo shot up, licking his lips of your cream, "Ah, see that, wanna taste?" You shook your head, mouth a no. He leaned in, one hand angling his cock while the other grabbed your neck.

His tongue wrapped around yours, muffling the whine as he slammed into you, his cock stretching you out, a slight burn mixed with pleasure.

Bo wasted no time, slamming hard into you, his cheeks pink as he groaned into the kiss, he lifted his head, "Ah, fuck, needy little pussy fuckin' missed me. Ah shit, I fuck." He grunted above you, his body pressing you into the table, "Fuck, it missed me, fuck it missed me."

You sobbed under him, your mind going to Vincent, trying to picture it was Vincent on top of you, it was you and Vincent making love in the library, not Bo. Not Bo sending waves of familiar pleasure through you, his cock stretching you out.

"Please, don't cum in me, Bo, please don't."

"Wah? cum in you? Sure, I can do that, after all, your little pussy was made for it." He sneered at you, a dark look flashed over him.

You punched at him, "I'll scream."

"You scream and that video gets sent to Vincent. Doesn't matter I'm hav-having m-my way with y-you." He stuttered between thrusts, "Just a video of you getting impregnated by his older brother. He won't want you."

You sobbed as tears spilled as you turned away from him, Vincent flashed in your mind. His smile, his light blue eyes, his hands holding yours.

Your body tensed as Bo's cock felt intoxicating, the familiar rhythm, his harsh kisses, mind being taken back to you on his bed, how he'd hiked your legs over his shoulders as he pushed them onto your chest, a cocky grin as he fucked you deep.

"Bo," You whimpered, "Please," you continued "Just not inside."

He slammed harder, groaning as you clenched around him, "Feels like it wants it inside. Don't lie to yourself, Sweets."

You couldn't, the tears fell, you whimpered Vincent's name, "Hurry, Bo."

Bo couldn't hold back, your sexy little body squirming under him, your pussy clenching around him, your spent leaking onto the table, your stifled moans. "Look at the camera as you cum, look as I cum in you," He turned your head towards the phone, tears freely falling Bo licked your cheek.

His breathing, his thrusts, his cock filling you so well, his raspy praise. You stared, "I'm sorry, Vincent." You scrunched your face as Bo positioned in and out, a low groan reverberated from his chest.

Bo laughed as he came, his seed painting your insides, coating your pink walls, picturing it shooting deep into your womb, his little swimmers getting to work.

You fought back the urge to barf, his cum filling you send a ripple of pleasure through you.

Bo hissed as his breathing slowed, the realization of your nails digging into his shoulders, came to his senses. He slowly pulled out, grabbing the phone, to capture his seed dripping out of your pussy.

He wrapped his hand around your throat, squeezing, a threat. He continued to film, "Ah, look at that, good little slut getting bred. Just like she was made too."

Bo brought the camera to your face, "Say, 'Hi, Vincent!' ha" he laughed as you kept your vision off him and the camera.

"it's okay, I know you're thinking of getting that plan B. But you'll be coming with me tonight, I'm gonna make sure my seed takes." Bo released your neck, thumb running over your lips as you coughed.

"Get dressed, we're gonna get a hotel, this is from over." He leaned in to kiss your cheek, "My good girl, mine again." He hugged you as he sent the video to his phone. He laughed as he felt you shake in his arms,

"I wonder what Vincent will do when he sees this, gosh I can only imagine." He hummed and swayed you back and forth, "You'll look great with my child in you, can't wait, ah you'll be so beautiful."

#Bo sinclair #Bo sinclair x reader #Bo sinclair x you #Bo sinclair imagine #Bo sinclair x y/n #Vincent sinclair #Vincent sinclair x you #Vincent sinclair x reader #Vincent sinclair imagine #house of wax 2005 #smut #lemon #dark fic #slasher x reader #Slasher x you #Slasher imagine

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doiefy · 3 years

Text

blue // na jaemin

“The winter has passed and the spring has come We have withered and our hearts are bruised from longing”

- blue, bigbang

In which one ceases to age until they find their soulmate, with whom they then grow old. In which everyone has moved on without you.

genre: soulmate!au, fluff, angst, slow burn

pairings: jaemin x female reader (written with a female character in mind, but it can easily be gender neutral!), features relationships with other dream members, briefly mentions haechan x jeno

word count: 11.6 k

warnings: language, mentions of alcohol and smoking, mentions of war, mentions of death, discussions of Korea under Japanese occupation, some of the historical references may be inaccurate.

taglist (DM, comment or Ask to be added): @simplicitysbabe Big thank you to @neojaems for beta reading this for me !! <333

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Your test comes back blue.

When you rip open the envelope containing your results, you find the little coloured square hidden between pages and pages of lab protocols, testing procedures and other nonsense you know no one actually has the time to read. Then there are the stupid pamphlets, the ones with overtly bright and bubbly messages reassuring people that they’ll find their “special someone” soon, slogans most likely written by people who found their soulmates before they even turned twenty. You scoff, shoving the useless papers back into the envelope and recalling the first time you tested back in 1945, right after the war. The receptionist wrote your results down on a piece of paper and nonchalantly told you to have your emotional breakdown outside.

Now you stare at the blue marking on your paper blankly. It simply means you haven’t aged biologically in ten years, but when you haven’t aged in decades, it means nothing. While the world progresses, you remain frozen in the same body, playing a cruel game with fate. And as with any game that one cannot win, you’ve slowly become bored with it, allowing it to take its course while you sit idle nearby. You feel only disappointed, and not even perplexed or surprised in the slightest. Something about meeting Jaemin just seemed too good to be true; after a lifetime of misfortune and failure, something about the bad news feels… expected. Inevitable. As if unconsciously, you knew he wasn’t the one.

Na Jaemin is not your soulmate. And you spend the walk home contemplating how you’ll tell him this.

When you unlock the door to your shared apartment, you know he’s already home, and earlier than usual: his shoes are placed meticulously on the rack by the door and his jacket is hung up next to the messenger bag he takes to work. The living room smells faintly of the pine and vanilla candle you bought last month, and you smell traces of shampoo and bodywash from the bathroom.

“I’m home!” you call out as you kick your shoes off and put them neatly next to Jaemin’s. There’s a muffled response of your name before the door to your room opens. Then his arms are around you, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he mumbles a tired greeting.

“Bad day?” You ask softly, pushing all your other thoughts to the back of your head. He looks exhausted. His hair is tucked messily under the hood of his navy sweater, still damp from the shower he took earlier. His eyes lack the usual brightness you often find yourself so immersed in, replaced with the fatigue and weariness he almost never brings home.

“I hate this company,” he sighs as you run your fingers through his hair. You feel him relax in your arms a bit. “My boss is a dick, everyone in my department hates each other and the coffee tastes like actual ass. Maybe I should just quit while I still can.”

You frown. “Jaem, you’ve been with them for literally a month. You can’t possibly be thinking about quitting already.”

“A month! A month in and I’m already having mental breakdowns under my desk at lunch. Imagine what will become of me if I spend a year there,” he scowls, but his expression softens when you kiss him reassuringly on the cheek. “Alright, alright, fine, maybe not quit, maybe I’ll just take a long, long, vacation and then retire… Move to the countryside with you…” He trails off dreamily and for a moment, you lose yourself in the fantasy he’s painted for you. The mental image of a quaint house by the ocean is quickly shattered when you remember the test results hidden in your bag. The sunflowers you envisioned surrounding the cottage are blown away in the wind, their bright yellow petals swallowed by the blueness of the sky.

“Oh, you wish,” you laugh, quickly pressing your lips to his in hopes that he won’t see your expression, that he won’t see the sadness and regret you’re fighting to suppress. “Maybe, baby, maybe one day we can do that.”

“Maybe,” he laughs, his face lighting up with the energy and liveliness that has been missing. “But enough about me. How was your day, love?”

“Mm. The same old,” you say, pulling out of his arms so you can finally take your jacket off. You crash into the couch where you fold up your scarf and toss it aside. “Stressful.”

He stares at you for a hard moment, visibly concerned as if he can tell there’s something troubling on your mind. “Is something the matter?” He asks carefully, sitting down next to you. He holds you at arm’s length so he can look at you properly. “Is this about the test?”

“What? Oh, no, not the test. I doubt the results will come in until sometime next week.” The lie slips out easier than it should, and you feel guilt slowly start to twist your insides. Just a white lie, you tell yourself. It can’t hurt anyone but yourself. He’s been through enough today. He’s tired. Not tonight. It can wait. “I’m just tired,” you shrug. “I need some dinner and a nap, then I’ll be all good again. Do we still have anything in the fridge or should we order takeout?”

“I already ordered chicken from Yong’s. I had a feeling that today would be a bad day for the both of us,” Jaemin grins. His smile is smug at first, then endearing when he sees your shock.

You practically pounce on him in excitement, and the two of you go crashing into the couch cushions until you have him pinned beneath you. “Oh my god, I fucking love you, you know that?”

Jaemin groans, curling into himself as he gives you a wounded look. “And that’s how you show your love? By trying to break my bones?”

“Besides the point,” you huff. “You aren’t going to say it back?”

“Yes, of course. I love you too.”

Unsatisfied with his answer, you lower your face so your lips are hovering just inches above his. He looks up at you starry-eyed, his fingers ghosting over your cheeks; you can’t help but notice the way his gaze travels briefly to your lips.

Then you realize how dangerous this is. You know that he’s not the one. You know that you’ll eventually part ways with him when he finds out, no matter how reluctant you’ll feel. Every moment you spend with him like this will come back to haunt you when he’s gone. It will become another reminder of what you’re about to lose, yet here you are, falling deeper into his embrace, intoxicated by his scent and lost in the depth of his eyes. You are only tying more strings between the two of you, strings that will need to be stretched and snapped. You are only making it more painful for the both of you.

But for tonight, you don’t care.

“Say it like you mean it,” you whisper.

He holds your face gently, and those sparks you felt upon your first meeting with him are still there, igniting each time he looks at you, blazing into an open flame when he tells you, “I love you.”

You kiss him with more urgency this time, your lips meeting his in a clash of teeth and tongue. He puts his hands around your waist and pulls you impossibly closer to him. For just a moment, you’re focused on only him and his presence. For just a moment, you forget about everything; the sheet of test results is just another piece of paper in your bag, the blue mark just another colour. Because tonight, he is all that matters to you.

You met Na Jaemin almost three years ago.

Though the details have faded with time, you remember your first conversation well. It began at a friend’s art show beneath the golden glow of the studio lights, the two of you surrounded by brilliant splashes of colour and bold strokes of texture. Renjun had insisted on introducing you to Jaemin before you even arrived at the gallery, and you couldn’t have possibly refused. Your friendship with Renjun goes way back to the 40s, and you often think he knows you better than you know yourself. “I think he could be good for you,” he told you quietly just before leaving to speak with his other guests.

At first, Jaemin seemed timeless. It was as if he didn’t belong to any particular time period, as if he had lived to see several generations rise and fall, but had never risen or fallen with any of them. Dressed elegantly in a fitted turtleneck and a wool coat, he appeared youthful and contemporary; yet the way he spoke hinted at a certain maturity, at wisdom and sagacity. There was something charming about him too, something about the way he recounted events of the past and drew you in with only his words.

Next to a breathtaking oil painting of the sea, you discovered your commonalities. He was almost two decades younger, but like you, had spent his entire life searching for a partner without much success. You were delighted to learn that he had also worked in teaching—though he mentioned changing careers frequently whenever things became too mundane. He was effortlessly intriguing, and every word he spoke was lively and animated. He infused your conversations with colours, painted everything in bright yellows and aquamarines that matched the swirling paint strokes of the artworks around you, left you wanting to know more without even trying.

You left the gallery that night with his number in your coat pocket. Needless to say, Renjun was thrilled.

Weeks passed before you saw him again. Your busy schedules always managed to get in the way of your plans, but the two of you still kept in touch, chatting late into the night and well into the early hours. As the months went by, you dared to hope that maybe he was the one.

You immediately scolded yourself for being naive. With all your past partners, you had been hopeful in the same way, only to be let down in the end. Your test when you were with Donghyuck came back blue, as did the one with Mark. Both have since moved on, found their soulmates and written their happy endings. Even if you still stay in touch and meet up for an occasional coffee, you know that you are only a distant memory to them in some way or another.

The prospect of the same thing happening with Jaemin had never occurred to you—you’d been so caught up in getting to know him, so blinded that you’d completely forgotten. And then you saw him differently. As if he were a flame that could be snuffed out in an instant, a feather that could be sent flying with the slightest breeze, the slightest breath. You mulled over it for weeks and always did so silently, until it finally came up in conversation.

Almost a year had passed since you’d met him. With the summer coming to an end, the two of you had driven down to the Han River where you sat in the open trunk of his car, sharing a can of cheap beer from the convenience store. There were no words, only the faint melody of an old pop song buzzing from your phone and his hand around yours.

“Move in with me,” he said at last, glancing at you expectantly, trying to gauge your reaction. It wasn’t completely out of the blue—you’d been searching for a new apartment for weeks—but it still took you by surprise. “Too fast?” He asked when he registered your shock.

“No, not at all,” you shook your head and squeezed his hand. “Don’t get me wrong Jaem, I’d love to. It’s just, I don’t know about any of this. About us. If we’re actually…”

He hummed a quiet response, his brows furrowing slightly in contemplation. “Soulmates,” he said with a melancholic sigh. “You don’t want to go any further before we know for certain. I understand.”

You nodded. “It always hurts, you know? You think you’ve finally found them only to realize you’ve been completely wrong the whole time.”

“I know,” he said, and his empathy flooded you with warmth and reassurance. “You always think you’ll be prepared for the next time. You always think it will hurt less as time goes by. But it doesn’t.”

“Exactly.”

You tipped the last of the beer into your mouth; it tasted faintly sweet on your tongue before dissolving into a pleasant bitterness that hit the back of your throat. When you were finished, Jaemin took the empty can and fiddled with the tab, bending it back and forth until it snapped off.

“I want it to be you,” he told you after a few minutes of silence. “I want it to be us.”

“And if we aren’t?”

He kissed you, hard enough for you to see stars. It wasn’t desperate or longing, but it seemed to convey a hundred different thoughts all at once, a hundred different emotions for you to decipher. When he finally pulled away, his voice was thoughtful and he was seemingly lost in a pleasant daydream. “Oh, love, the universe has already cursed us to search eternally. We may as well spend eternity together.”

“Seriously, Jaemin, what if we aren’t?”

The tremor of your voice snapped him out of it. The glimmer of hope disappeared from his pupils and the dream slipped from his hands.

“We’ve been alive for so long,” you continued, trying to keep your voice steady. “I don’t think I can go on like this. What if we aren’t meant to be? What will we do?”

You didn’t regret your time with Donghyuck or Mark or Jungwoo or any of the people you were lucky enough to have met, but you’d watched all of them from afar, watched them grow while you stayed frozen in time. Each new generation that came along was only a reminder of your loneliness. You felt a certain emptiness each time you invited new people into your life, one that deepened when they eventually left you behind. Or worse, when they gave you their pity. You couldn’t stand it when people told you that it was unfair or that you deserved better, all while they lived comfortably with their soulmates. You weren’t jealous, nor could you ever be angry at them for something beyond their control. Your anger was directed at the invisible forces that toyed with the world, the mischievous hands spinning the universe in some strange direction that left only you disoriented.

His expression took on a faint sadness and when he spoke again, his voice was calm, barely a whisper. “Then so be it. If you need to move on, it would be selfish of me to stop you from doing so.” He stared out at the waters wistfully, at the yachts sailing downstream. “And besides, you’re right. Maybe it’s time we settle down… even if it’s not with each other.”

Your birthday came a few months after that night, but you held off on testing. The bus you took home from work passed by one of the labs, but you never got off at the stop, always watched the doors open and close from your seat. The test isn’t that accurate anyways, you told yourself; it could produce only an approximate biological age, so maybe the longer you waited, the better.

But in the end, it was simply an excuse to escape reality, to avoid your confrontation with fate itself.

You moved in with him just before the end of the year.

New Year’s Eve wasn’t a big deal for you (you’d lived through too many for it to be exciting), but you spent the last minutes of the year with him, surrounded by cardboard boxes waiting to be unpacked. Jaemin had still made some sort of effort at festivities despite your indifference: pale pink and gold candles lit around the living room, golden champagne in delicate glasses set on the table.

You were almost asleep when the clock struck twelve, wrapped up in one of his oversized sweaters and a white throw blanket. The celebratory music blaring from the TV was muffled in your ears, a pleasant symphony that lulled you deeper into sleep until Jaemin awoke you with a kiss.

“Happy New Year, Y/N.”

“Happy New Year, Jaem,” you mumbled, a smile ghosting your lips as you focused on the comfort you felt in his arms; on the new year, on your new home, new hope.

You know something’s wrong.

Jaemin doesn’t come out to greet you, even after you announce your arrival. He’s home—his shoes and coat are put away neatly like any other day—yet it’s deathly silent, terribly still. No music playing in the living room, no voice down the hallway. Only the occasional chirp from your broken smoke detector, which you’ve been meaning to fix for weeks. As you bend down to unlace your boots, you can’t help but worry.

You find him in your shared bedroom, sitting cross-legged on the comforter. The sun has almost set and the shadows stretch across the room, blanketing him in darkness and masking his expression with ambiguity. He doesn’t move when you turn on the lamp on the bedside table. He doesn’t move when you sit next to him.

There’s a familiar sheet of paper in his hands.

“Jaem, I…”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

It isn’t accusatory or hostile; his voice is laced with nothing but sadness, yet you feel so much guilt, guilt that closes around your throat and squeezes the air out of your lungs, leaving you breathless. You kept it from him for days, and now this is the way he must find out about it. From a piece of paper you were careless enough to leave where he might find it. From a piece of paper detailing the DNA extracted from a sample of your blood. You should have told him.

“I didn’t know how to,” you let out a shaky breath. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Are you serious?” There it is, the cold edge that begins creeping into his voice as he stares down at you. He flicks a finger in the direction of the date printed at the top of the paper. “It’s been a week, Y/N. You kept this from me for a week. Why?”

“I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you, okay?” It comes out sharper than you intended; you immediately begin to drown in guilt as soon as you see Jaemin’s expression fall. You didn’t mean to lash out, and now you make up for it by taking his hands in yours. They're ice cold. “Look, the day I found out, you were already tired from work. I didn’t want to bring it up and make everything worse—”

“So you lied. Said the results hadn’t come in yet,” he says flatly and you rush to defend yourself, only to realize that he’s right.

“I’m sorry.”

The rest of your words don’t come. With a tired exhale, you bury your head in your hands, too overwhelmed to say anything else. You can only hope that he’ll understand, that he’ll empathize and that he’ll forgive you, even if you don’t exactly believe you deserve any of it right now. You hold back the tears. Only when he pulls you into his arms do they fall. He takes your hands, gently pulling them away from your face so he can wipe your tears despite your protests. There’s no coldness in his expression now, only concern.

“I needed time to process everything,” you continue, but you choke on the words. “I couldn’t even accept it myself, I couldn’t—”

“I know, love,” he says quietly as his thumb brushes against your cheek. “I know. It’s alright.”

Your silent sniffles turn into unrestrained sobs as he pulls you into his embrace, your pent-up emotions finally released in the form of silvery streams on your cheeks. You aren’t sure how much time passes. The sun meets the horizon in a hazy line of faint pink and orange. The sky darkens. Outside, the city lights up in a multitude of hues, the amber light from the street below seeping into your room. The minutes go by, but Jaemin never lets go of you until your tears have run dry.

“Better?” He asks, albeit his voice is shaky, his gaze trembling when he looks up at you. You nod.

“We’ll figure this out,” his eyes seem to say. You can tell he’s just as terrified as you are, just as unsure and as lost. Though for now, you simply hold each other. You say nothing about the paper that lays discarded on the floor or what it entails, even if you both feel the need to address it, to face its implications. In this moment of brokenness, neither of you have the strength to do so.

You eventually collect yourselves. You make dinner and force yourselves to eat before passing a meaningless hour in front of the TV. You clean up, wash up. Sleep early in preparation for tomorrow. Jaemin never leaves your side.

“Where do we go from here?” You whisper into the darkness of your bedroom.

“Tomorrow, love,” you hear him say just before slipping into unconsciousness, into restless sleep.

According to Lee Donghyuck, the chances of meeting your soulmate are 1 in 10 000. Or at least, scientifically. Theoretically. Donghyuck was a man of logic and reason, and had your lives not revolved around soulmates like the earth revolved around the sun, perhaps he wouldn’t have believed in fate at all.

“Remove fate from the equation,” Donghyuck mumbled to himself thoughtfully, jotting a few numbers down on a paper napkin. “And let’s assume your soulmate is around your age.”

“Can’t you rule that one out too?” You pointed out, but he was too busy, already lost in his thoughts.

“If your soulmate is determined at birth and instantly recognizable at first sight… And they’re actually alive somewhere in the world…”

You watched the quick movements of his blue pen with intrigue. He spun the pen restlessly, allowing its barrel to cross over and under and between his fingers, at times so quickly that it became nothing but a blur of colour. Finally, he scribbled a final verdict and inked two definitive circles around it. “If fate hadn’t been so kind, the chances would have been one in ten thousand. One lifetime out of ten thousand.”

“That slim? Ten thousand lifetimes, that’s nearly impossible,” you said, skeptical but amused at his train of thought nonetheless. You took the napkin from him and looked over his calculations, though some of the numbers were too big for you to check without a calculator. You trusted that Donghyuck had done them correctly though. “You know, if you told that to someone who’d spent a century searching for their soulmate, they’d probably beat you up. You’re lucky I like you.”

He giggled. “We’re lucky it’s only hypothetical.” He took the napkin from you and crumpled it, smudging the neon blue ink on the tips on his fingers.

With Donghyuck, things were simpler. He was young, young enough to not be in a hurry, young enough to speak his thoughts so freely. He never pitied you or worried about offending you, and he never treated you as if you were out of place among the new generations. He offered you perspective. You knew that you weren’t meant for each other, but you were still content to spend your time with each other. To wait together.

“So… I might have found a new place.”

You don’t miss the surprise on Jaemin’s face when you tell him over dinner. His eyes widen a bit in curiosity, his brows arching upwards and his mouth falling slightly agape. He sets his fork down against his plate, folding his hands together the way he does when he’s deep in thought.

“Already?” He inquires. Maybe you imagine a hint of disappointment in his voice, a slight dip in his tone. He looks at you with a sort of sadness, as if trying to imagine what it would be like with you gone, to come home to an empty apartment every night. “Seriously, Y/N, you’re welcome to stay if you need to. We said we would take the changes slowly.” His words aren’t just out of consideration for you.

More than a month has gone by silently, and within that time, the frigid cold of winter has finally given way to spring. Nothing has really changed when you think about it, as if your test results are meaningless. And you suppose that they have become just that, a meaningless scrap of paper at the bottom of the recycling bin in the kitchen. Jaemin still holds you the same way, though his touches are just a little bit more fleeting. Your conversations still extend late into the night, though they feel just slightly melancholic. You hang onto his every word even while telling yourself not to, that maybe there is no point in doing so when everything is already coming to an end.

“I don’t know if I’ll take it… at least not for sure. And even if I do, I won’t be moving in until April. I just thought I’d tell you ahead of time,” you tell him, reaching across the table to take his hand. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, but I think I need some time alone. So I can adjust to all of this.”

“No, I understand. It’s just a little jarring, you know? Don’t know what it’ll be like without you here.”

“It’s literally only a block away,” you giggle, and he smiles. “I’ll still be here.”

After the coolness of February comes grey skies and a drizzly March, heavy rainfall washing the white snow to grey slush. Eventually, the clouds part across the sky for the sun, allowing the brilliant blue of the sky to peek through. April comes sooner than expected, producing blooms of yellow and white in the flowery courtyards of your new apartment complex, bursts of bright colours along the cobblestone paths.

You stand surrounded by boxes in the middle of your new studio apartment, watching the people pass by on the streets below. The windows are cracked open for air and you can hear the bustle outside, the yells of the street vendors, an occasional shriek of a child’s laughter. The new bedframe and mattress you ordered stand leaning against the wall in the corner, waiting to be assembled. Jaemin stumbles through the door with another box and sets it down before dusting his hands off on his jeans.

“That’s the last one,” he says. He collapses on the couch that the previous owner left behind, out of breath. You sit down next to him, allowing him to rest his head on your lap. He finally looks around, then at you. “Everything you hoped for?”

You nod happily. “I’ll miss having you around though,” you chuckle, playing with the soft strands of his hair, freshly dyed—after losing a drunken bet to Renjun a week ago, he reluctantly let the latter bleach and tone his hair bright silver. But you think it suits him; it accentuates the darkness of his eyes and paleness of his skin, gives him a cold and chic edge offset by the gentleness of his smile.

“I’ll still be here,” he repeats your words from two months ago. “And you’ll be much closer to work, right? No more crazy subway routes and early mornings. At the cost of me being your personal alarm clock, of course.” He grins, and you smack him with a red throw pillow.

“I won’t miss that,” you roll your eyes teasingly.

“Whatever you say, love.” He lifts his head off your lap to press a kiss against your cheek.

You spend the rest of the afternoon with him, unpacking boxes, hanging up clothes, building the bedframe and fitting the mattress with clean sheets so that at least you’ll have somewhere to sleep tonight. When the sun sets, everything is lit in an ethereal glow, and you stare out the floor-length windows, admiring the sky. Jaemin joins you after a moment, wrapping his arms around you as the two of you rock back and forth to the steady rhythm of the music playing from his phone.

When he leaves in the evening, he gives you a final hug, jokingly telling you not to miss him too much. When he’s gone, you find yourself staring out the window once more, at the blocky silhouette of Jaemin’s building a few blocks away. He pointed it out earlier, thrilled that you could see so far from this high up.

You quickly learn that on cloudy days, it is nothing but a smudge of grey in the distance.

While Donghyuck always tried to ease your worries with reason and strokes of pen ink on his skin, Mark took you on long drives around the city, hoping that the wind blowing through your hair would clear your mind.

On late nights when you couldn’t sleep, you often found yourself in the passenger seat of his 1975 Hyundai Pony, listening to static-laced 80s rock music while he drove you around the streets of Seoul. He would always roll the windows down in the summer and watch the contentment on your face, one hand around yours while the other guided the wheel.

Mark Lee was even older than you—and with all the wars and tragedies he’d lived through, he understood what it felt like to be kept awake by the nightmares. To be kept awake by thoughts of loved ones being blown to bits, to be haunted with memories of the past. With how long he’d been searching for the right person, he knew the urgency you felt and the longing to finally settle down with a soulmate. He understood.

The stories he told you were woven between puffs of cigarette smoke and gentle kisses on your forehead. He told you about Canada and the mountains that surrounded Vancouver, where he’d spent some time in the 40s. He told you about his family, about his brother’s grandchildren who looked older than he did. It was strange, he’d admitted with a small laugh and sadness in his smile.

The two of you often pointed out buildings along the side of the road, reminiscing what stood in their place before the bulldozers and big trucks rolled in. Just down the street from his apartment, the old drive-in cinema was being replaced by an upscale theatre. Next to it, a park was being cleared for a new shopping centre. Even the studio he’d rented out last summer had been demolished so a new entertainment agency could build its empire. Once in a while, he would drive by and stare ruefully at the construction site—the classical compositions he’d once recorded there were being replaced by a new type of music, with catchy beats and pretty pop stars dressed in shiny outfits.

His music had been drowned out by a new industry, and likewise, many of the things you remembered from your childhood have been lost to time. Talking about the past with him helped you remember. It was a sort of reassurance even as you moved on.

Mark eased a bit of your pain, staying out with you until the early hours of morning to make sure that you were alright. The next morning, he would almost always call to ask if you’d slept okay, unless there was an issue with the old landline phone in his office. All concept of time disappeared when you were with him, along with your memories and the demons haunting your dreams. But eventually, he would drop you off at home and bid you goodnight, leaving you to watch him drive away. Eventually, the night came to an end.

He couldn’t stay with you the whole night, nor could he stay with you forever.

Your evenings are often interrupted by Jaemin’s messages asking you to come over. Sometimes he says that he misses you, or he wants to see you for dinner. Other times, he kisses you breathless against the closed door as soon as you’ve stepped inside, always with an unmatched fervour and urgency as if you might slip right through his grasp and disappear.

Tonight, however, it’s neither.

It’s half past midnight when your phone is set off in a series of quick vibrations. Wrapped in nothing but a towel with your hair still dripping, you type in a reply, hesitate, press send. You get changed, slipping into a pair of jeans and an oversized T-shirt before grabbing your keys.

Jaemin is uncharacteristically quiet when he opens the door for you, his gaze downcast so you can’t see his expression. He’s deteriorating; you can see it in the way he turns his back to you after locking the door, the way he walks inside with a halfhearted invitation for you to follow.

“What’s wrong?” You ask when you’ve sat down across from him.

“I think I found them,” he mumbles and you notice how he averts your gaze. “My soulmate, I mean. I think I found her.”

“Wait, then why with the long face? Jaem, that’s great—”

He cuts you off with a sharp bark of emotionless laughter. His expression turns bitter when he pulls his sleeve up to reveal a mark along his wrist: two linear streaks of dark purple that twist together like the centre petals of a rose. He stares at it, almost with contempt. Apart from the standardized DNA tests, markings are the only other way to identify soulmates, though they almost never show. No one has any proper explanation for them and you have no explanation for why Jaemin has one now.

“Don’t get me wrong, I think she’s great. She’s smart. She’s funny. We have the same mark so I know it’s her,” he says shakily. “But god, I must have really fucked up in a past life to deserve this.”

You feel dread. It hits you all at once, because the way Jaemin speaks is so distant and unnerving, as if he’s lost himself in a trance and forgotten all about you. You’ve seen this dazed look before, only twice, when he was truly distressed and truly lost. This isn’t like him.

He found her. He should be happy. You should be happy for him. He should be happy.

“What is it?”

“I think I’m broken. Something’s wrong with me.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, and you try to keep the urgency out of your voice for his sake. He doesn’t say anything. “Jaemin?”

“I don’t feel anything when I’m with her. Nothing.”

You don’t register his words. They don’t make any sense to you. They are barely coherent. No, you think. That can’t be possible.

“Maybe we rejected each other in a past life and then both offed ourselves. Or maybe this is just the universe’s way of saying ‘fuck you.’ Maybe—”

“Stop that,” you tell him firmly. “Whatever this is, there has to be an explanation for it. Marks don’t just appear out of nowhere, right?” You pause to take a shaky breath, suddenly realizing that your words aren’t meant to comfort only him. “We can look into it. We can figure out what’s going on. This is the 21st Century, remember?”

“But what am I even supposed to tell her?” He demands, his tone exasperated and his brows furrowed together. “‘I know you’ve been looking for me for your whole life, but I can’t see you as anything more than a friend, sucks for you’? What do I do, spend the rest of my life drowning in guilt and self-pity because I couldn’t love her the way she wanted me to? Because I could only pretend?”

You have no answers for him. Perhaps he hasn’t felt anything for her because he hasn’t let go of you. Perhaps it really was a mistake, a freak accident in the cosmos that put the wrong marks on the wrong people, designating a pair that was never meant to be. Your thoughts run wild, but you can’t put anything into words for him. Even if you could, you don’t think you would have the strength to say anything aloud.

Instead, you hold him in your arms, wiping away the tears of frustration that have formed at the corners of his eyes, running your fingers through his hair. You can only hope that his soulmate will do the same for him some day, perhaps in some future where the cruel forces watching over you cease their endless games. Genuinely, you hope.

The tone goes off a third time. You glance at the clock across the room: 11 AM. He has to be up by now, you think to yourself as your fingers continue drumming a repetitive rhythm onto the kitchen counter.

“Hello?”

Just before the automated voice can tell you to leave a voicemail, he picks up. Donghyuck’s voice is groggy, as if he’s just woken up—or maybe he’s just about to go to bed. With his disaster of a sleep schedule, you can never be sure.

“Hi, it’s me.”

“Oh hey, you, I know you.” You hear him chuckle on the other end of the line. “How are you, Y/N? I haven’t heard from you in ages.”

“I’m alright, the usual, I guess. How about you? How’s Jeno?”

“Jeno adopted another cat because he’s fucking insane, so now we have three little furballs running around the house. But yeah, it’s going great! So great,” he drawls with a familiar bite of sarcasm. You smile to yourself. “If he brings home another one because ‘Oh Hyuck, look it’s so cute, can we keep it?’ I will literally choke him in his sleep. Anyways, what’s going on? You never call me.”

“You never pick up,” you huff, earning a small laugh from him. “Okay, I wanted to ask you something. What do you know about soulmate marks?”

Thoughtful silence. “Not much. I mean, I’ve got my theories, but nothing has really been proven. Why, did you get one?”

“No, not me. Jaemin.”

“Oh, Y/N… then that means…”

“It’s alright, don’t concern yourself with me, Donghyuck. I’m more worried about him, honestly.”

“Hm?”

“He found his soulmate recently, but it’s not exactly… it’s not going as expected, let's just say that. He said he feels almost nothing when he’s with her, and to make things worse, apparently now it’s mutual. God, Donghyuck, they’re so awkward with each other, it physically hurts me.”

Donghyuck is silent again, and you hear the faint clicking of his keyboard. You can almost see his contemplative gaze and the soft blue glow of his computer screen lighting his face. “Did they know each other at all before the marks appeared?”

“Yeah, they were coworkers.”

He hums. “Okay… that could be why. Marks have a tendency to appear if soulmates have been around each other for extended periods of time without realizing it. It’s like nature’s way of telling them that the person they’re looking for is right in front of them. As for why they haven’t felt anything for each other? I dunno… reincarnation can really fuck with people. Any previous sentiments for your soulmate stick with you as you pass on, even if you’re both reborn completely different people.”

I must have really fucked up in a past life to deserve this. Jaemin’s words echo in your head.

“Obviously, there’s still opportunity to fix things,” Donghyuck adds quickly before you can get too lost in your thoughts. “It just takes time. Honestly, I wouldn’t be too concerned”

“I know, I know,” you groan. “I’m just upset that after everything he’s gone through, this is the shit he has to deal with.”

“Yeah. I can’t even imagine.” He pauses. “You know, a lot of people would just run off if they were in the same situation. He’s lucky to have you.”

You give a breathless laugh and shrug. “I feel like it’s the least I can do.”

“You never give yourself enough credit,” Donghyuck says, a hint of melancholy to his voice. There’s a sudden noise in the distance that cuts him off, and he curses beneath his breath. “Shit, the new cat’s not trained yet and I think she’s doing something stupid in the kitchen. Jeno will kill me if anything happens to her.”

You suppress a giggle. “Go ahead. We can catch up some other time.”

“Of course. See you, Y/N.”

The line clicks.

If Donghyuck taught you to be hopeful and Mark taught you to be strong, Jungwoo taught you to be brave.

Kim Jungwoo was your first love, and in many ways, you consider him to be irreplaceable. Perhaps it had simply been the result of young naivety back then, but you thought he was unlike any other person you’d ever met. In hindsight, he was different. A bright light dancing his way into your life when you were only a child in the 30s, a free-spirited boy who went where he pleased despite living under such an oppressive regime.

The Kims lived only a few doors down. You frequently saw the boys in their front yard kicking a beat-up soccer ball back and forth between them. Jungwoo was the middle child, and he sat right in front of you in class, his back always perfectly straight against his wooden chair so as to avoid the teachers’ chastisement. He was a quiet boy, and he never said a word unless it was to answer a question. But even then, his voice was small—not exactly shy or scared, just quiet. He quickly learned to raise his voice when the teacher hit him on the back of the hand with a ruler and demanded he speak up, when the wood scraped apart the skin of his knuckles.

At the time, when Japanese was all too foreign on your tongue and you struggled to understand anything taught in class, you thought he was a genius. He always had the right answers when he was called upon and there wasn’t a trace of an accent in either of his languages. Not that you heard him speak Korean much; you didn’t dare speak it unless you were hidden in your own homes, where your parents could discuss the uprisings without having to worry about the police roaming freely outside. Though, they still spoke in hushed voices as if anyone could hear them, as if terrified for what could happen if someone did hear.

The first time you spoke to Jungwoo properly was in middle school. After a humiliating incident at school that left you in tears, he ran to catch up with you on the way home and spoke to you in timid Korean, offering to help. You were still teary-eyed and beyond upset, but you let him guide you through your homework. He rambled to you about the Japanese grammar you couldn’t understand and explained the mistakes you’d made for your teacher to lash out at you the way she had. It didn’t stop you from making the same mistakes the next day, but at least he was patient, unlike the adults at school.

“You’re not stupid,” he told you one afternoon on the way home. Again, you were in tears.

“But the teachers think I am,” you grunted. “And I feel stupid. I can’t understand a word they say. I never have the right answers. Everything I say is wrong. If that’s not stupidity, I don’t know what it is.”

“Y/N, all we do at school is memorize meaningless facts that don’t really matter,” he replied with a shrug. “Just because you can’t shove all that information into your head doesn’t mean that you’re stupid. Look at Doyoung. He was failing school but he’s still one of the smartest people I know. He just… learns differently.”

“So? That doesn’t make me smart either. They still think—”

Jungwoo scoffed. “Who cares what they think? I think you’re wonderful, and they’re the real freaks. Miss Ito, especially.” He wrinkled his nose. “She smells funny.”

“Hey, be nice, Jungwoo,” you chided, but you were laughing. He was effortlessly funny and it was such a pleasant contrast to the way he acted at school. He was always so disciplined and perfect when the adults were watching, but he seemed to let loose around you. It made you feel… special, in a way. Validated, accepted. Something you never felt at school.

You walked home with him almost everyday from then on. You became inseparable, even when your school shut down and sent all the students to gender-segregated schools, even when your parents worried that you were spending too much of your time with him instead of studying. Even when war arrived.

The Second World War plunged your lives into darkness; Jungwoo quickly became the only light to guide you. He was there for you while your parents were away, while they laboured in the factories making helmets and guns and bullets so that they could at least put food on the table. He was there when the light at the end of the tunnel went dim, though he was miles away from home.

Jungwoo had never struck you as a fighter or rebel, even if he had the physique of a soldier. He had the drive and the courage and the steel to fight, but you only saw gentleness in his monthly letters to you. The last letter you received from him still sits in a drawer somewhere, the last words he wrote sealed in a plastic envelope so that they won’t fade away.

You took the test a few months after the war ended, only because he had pleaded with you to do so. Even if I don’t make it home, he wrote to you in the same curving script he’d used to teach you years ago. Promise me.

When the receptionist gave you a piece of paper with an X marked next to your name—there were no colour indicators back then, only X’s and hollow circles—a part of you felt relief that you couldn’t quite explain. Another part of you was disgusted, convinced that you were being selfish and apathetic. You thought that maybe you had no regard for him; that you only cared for yourself and a stranger you were still searching for. He’d risked his life to join the rebel army, fought on the frontlines with the Allies, and you repaid him with nothing.

It would take you years to come to the conclusion that your reaction was only natural. It would take you years to heal and start seeing other people. In due time, you would stop frequenting the church in your hometown and your fingers would cease to brush against the memorial stone in the yard, upon which his name was carved. Just one name among many.

Jaemin’s hands are all over you: in your hair, around your throat, pushing you against the wall as he kisses you. His fingers tangle into your hair and he pulls on the strands, forcing your head back a bit so he can continue trailing his lips over your neck and collarbones.

“We can’t be doing this,” you tell him when you manage to pull away. His arms come around your waist anyways and he buries his head in the crook of your neck. You can smell the alcohol on his breath, and you glance behind him to see empty soju bottles on the kitchen counter.

“I’m not with Jieun,” he snarls. “Besides, like I said. I think we’re fucked. We aren’t meant to be.”

“Don’t say that,” you hiss, taken aback by his sudden coldness. “This isn’t fair to her.”

“It’s mutual, remember? I bet she’s out there doing the exact same thing with some other guy. She doesn’t need me.”

“Jaem—”

“We’re fucked. She told me she doesn’t need me, and I told her the same.”

You’re horrified. “You did what?”

“Hilarious, isn’t it? We had our first fight, and we aren’t even together yet.” He scoffs, pushing a hand through his hair in irritation. “Some type of soulmate.”

You’ve never heard him talk like this. He’s out of his mind. He’s lost it. “Fuck, Jaem, how much did you drink?”

“Not enough to feel better, clearly,” he snaps.

“Alcohol and whatever this is between the two of us isn’t going to make you feel any better. This isn’t going to fix your problems.”

“Then what do you want me to do?!” His words are sharp, his expression hard when he glares at you. “You tell me to move on and to give her a chance and to stop doing whatever—” he motions frantically. You’ve never seen him so wild, so out of control, and you’ve almost never seen him lash out at anyone like this. “—whatever the fuck this is, but do you even know how it feels? Do you even care?”

A sharp intake of breath, and then the world is crashing down around you.

The feelings you fought to suppress re-emerge, rising up to crush you and force you into relapse. Doubt. Regret. Guilt. The little voice in the back of your head is a raging monster now, and it shouts at you, screaming at you in a blind rage. Telling you that you’re heartless and self-absorbed and indifferent, everything you believed you were when Jungwoo died. Reinstating what you know isn’t true. You know he doesn’t mean it. You know that it’s just alcohol fueling the words spewing from his lips and nothing more, but they still bring back unpleasant memories, a sense of dread you can’t shake.

He realizes, albeit a bit too late. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

If you knew how much it hurts me to watch you do this to yourself. If you knew how much it hurts me knowing that there’s only so much I can do for you. “Don’t. I get it.”

For a few seconds, the room is silent, save the ticking of the clock behind you. It reminds you briefly of a memory that you can’t quite grasp, like a flash of deja vu before you spiral back down to the present reality where you stand in cold, frigid silence. The broken smoke detector chirps.

“I should go,” you say at last. You go to grab your keys from where you left them on the counter but he quickly stops you, his hand coming around yours. You look up at him in irritation, pulling away sharply.

“It’s late,” he says shakily, almost pleading. “You shouldn’t walk home at this hour. Not alone.”

“I’ll call a cab,” you shrug before slipping into your sweater and pulling on your shoes. You bid him goodnight and leave him dumbfounded in the living room.

You return home to a sleepless light and endless thoughts in a cold bedroom. A broken record replays his words in your head again and again, until you see Jungwoo’s face floating above you in the darkness. His features are faint, like wisps of smoke that loosely form sad eyes and lips pulled downwards in a frown. And then he’s the one asking, “Do you even care?”

You have no answer for the annoying voice in your head. You stare at the lines of light drifting across the expanse of the ceiling, wide awake as the sky brightens outside.

“How long will you be gone?”

It was the 3rd of August 1995. You knew because the next day would mark 50 years since Jungwoo’s death. The next day, you would be going back to your hometown and laying flowers on the altar in the Kim family home, revisiting the memorial you’d left behind when you moved to Seoul.

You shrugged as Mark passed you his lighter. The old zippo produced a small spark between your fingers, and then the sting of smoke was filling your mouth and nose. You didn’t smoke regularly—you’d stopped years ago—but you sure as hell felt like you needed one tonight.

“I dunno,” you said, taking a long drag from the cigarette. “A couple more days after the ceremony? If I stay any longer, Doyoung might get upset.“

“Upset?”

“He doesn’t like seeing me. Said I bring back bad memories. I think I remind him of Jungwoo too much.”

Mark grimaced. “Well it’s scary, seeing a childhood friend who hasn’t aged in fifty something years… Must he like seeing a ghost.” He paused, tucking a stray piece of your hair behind your ear so that he could see your face. “My nephews feel the same way about me.”

“You remind them of something?” You asked.

“Their father, I guess,” he explained. “My brother… wasn’t the most understanding of them when they were younger. Whenever they see me, all they can think of is their childhood and his abusiveness.”

“Doesn’t it bother you?”

He took a moment of contemplative silence “No, not really. I mean, maybe it did at first. But it’s not like I go out of my way to avoid them just because of the memories they associate with me. That would be unfair for me.”

“It would be,” you agreed.

“So then why avoid Doyoung? What he thinks of you is beyond your control. If you remind him of painful memories, that isn’t exactly your fault.”

You sighed. “I don’t know. I just feel like staying out of his way might help him heal. Maybe it’ll help him move on from everything he’s trying to forget.”

“Oh, Y/N.” Mark took your hand with a breathless laugh. His smile was both sad and endearing, as if he were in awe of you—what for, you weren’t too sure until he murmured, “You’re too kind sometimes.” He paused to exhale, smoke escaping his lips and bleeding into the atmosphere, dispersing into the starry sky. He stared into the sky for a few moments, silent.

“But it’s not always up to you to heal their wounds. At some point, they have to learn to heal themselves.”

“What the hell happened to him?”

Jaemin looks like a mess. His hair is disheveled and swept messily all over the place. His skin is unhealthily pale, unusually warm to the touch beneath your fingertips. You can tell he’s had a little too much to drink; he sits on the couch in a daze, his eyes fixated on an invisible point in front of him as if searching for something that is no longer there. He yelps in pain when you wipe at the cut on his lip.

“We bumped into a couple guys at the bar. One of them took a swing at him,” Renjun explains as he passes you the bottle of disinfectant. You carefully apply a drop to a cotton swab. “And it didn’t help that he was also drunk. Thank god Lucas was there to break up the fight.”

“I wasn’t drunk,” Jaemin groans in protest. “Just tipsy.”

“Tipsy? You couldn’t even tell me Y/N’s number.”

“I don’t remember anyone’s number.”

“Well, you couldn’t tell me your own name either. Got any excuse for that one, smartass?”

You ignore their bickering and continue cleaning the cut on Jaemin’s cheek, holding him firmly by the shoulder so he doesn’t move. The cotton quickly turns light pink between your fingers. You briefly examine the red marks along his jaw where he’d been hit, frowning. Jaemin has never been one to get into fights and especially not while under the influence, but the bruises on his cheek and his knuckles suggest otherwise. Hell, he rarely even gets drunk, but it’s becoming more and more frequent, to the point where Renjun makes sure to watch over him whenever they go out together. He’s derailing, you think to yourself as you brush his hair into some sort of order.

“Okay, let’s get you to bed.” You put his arm around your shoulder and help him up to his feet, nearly staggering beneath his weight. Renjun rushes over to help you move him into the bedroom.

“You should probably go home. It’s getting late,” you tell him when Jaemin has been settled in bed. You glance at the clock hanging in the kitchen as you clean up the first aid kit on the table: almost 2 AM. “I’ll stay with him… make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“I really tried to keep him away from the alcohol tonight. I swear I turned away for only a second to deal with Yangyang and he— Ugh, I’m so sorry,” Renjun apologizes again, shaking his head. “This whole soulmate ordeal is really getting to him. I’m worried, Y/N.”

“You know how he is. He always figures it out one way or another” you reassure him. “I’ll talk to him again though. Maybe he’ll actually… listen this time.”

“Well, call me if anything happens. I probably won’t be asleep anyways.”

“I will. Thanks, Jun,” you nod appreciatively.

By the time Renjun has gone home and you’ve finished cleaning up, Jaemin is already asleep. He stirs when you switch off the lamp and reaches out for you in the darkness, fingers intertwining with yours. “Stay,” he mumbles, pulling you a bit closer.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You say as you admire the way the moonlight filters in through the windows and draws pale lines across his cheeks. Despite the cuts marking his skin, he looks so much softer now, innocent, in a way. Again, you’re reminded of the Jaemin you met at the art gallery. He was none of this. None of this pent-up frustration released in empty beer bottles, none of these crimson bruises marking his otherwise smooth skin.

“You have to stop doing this to yourself,” you murmur. There’s no reply at first, and you wonder if he heard you at all.

“I’m sorry,” you finally hear his voice: small, feeble in the darkness. His words become more urgent as he keeps speaking, spilling from his lips uncontrollably. “I shouldn’t have said those things about you. I wasn’t thinking. You know I could never mean it.”

You hush him, wrapping him in the security of your arms. A single tear brushes against the back of your hand, then another. “It’s alright,” you assure him as you rub soothing circles against his back. “You were going through a lot. I understand, okay? It’s okay.”

He shakes his head frantically, his tears falling in steady streams now. You let out a low hiss when you see them stain pink with the blood from the wound on his cheek. “Still, that shouldn’t be an excuse. I’ve managed to fuck up everything since all of this started. I hurt Jieun, I hurt Renjun, I hurt you. I can’t even go to work and look at Jieun without feeling like such an idiot and getting mad at myself for being such a child. Without feeling like maybe I deserve this.”

Your heart drops, then shatters into a million pieces at the bottom of a dark abyss.

“Look at me,” you plead as you take his face in your hands. “Look at me, Jaem, please.” He finally lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours in the stillness. All you can see is brokenness, defeat and regret, a look you knew well. It’s an expression that once followed you around for years, appearing in every mirror and reflection you passed by. An innate, intimate part of you that you despised so much until you came to accept it. “Listen to me, Na Jaemin. You are one of the strongest, bravest and kindest people I’ve ever met, and nothing will ever change the way I see you. You don’t deserve any of this bullshit. You don’t deserve this.”

“If you knew what I told her, Y/N,” he lets out a shaky breath. “If you knew what we told each other when we found out neither of us had any feelings for each other… maybe you would think differently of me.”

“If that’s truly what you believe, fix what you broke,” you say firmly. “Apologize to her. Make things right between the two of you, unless you want to go through this all over again in another life. Things will only get worse if you don’t address them now.”

“And if I can’t?”

“If anyone can do it, it’s you, Jaem.” Trembling, you press your lips to his temple. “Whether or not you end up with her, whether or not you think you deserve this, I love you. And that will never fucking change.”

He leans forwards, his forehead touching yours, his nose brushing against yours and his lips just inches from meeting yours. But he never comes any closer, and you feel no urge to close the distance either. Perhaps it’s a sign that both of you are already starting to let go, to drift apart; this moment is nothing romantic or lustful, nothing more than comforting each other in your brokenness. Nothing more than trying to help each other numb the pain.

“I love you.” His voice trembles, but his words are steady, deep-rooted in sureness.

“Then promise me you’ll try, Jaem. You’ll try to set things right, for both our sake.”

“For you, love,” he murmurs, so quietly that you can barely hear him. His voice is lost to the faint rumbling of the air conditioning unit somewhere outside and the distant noises of traffic. “For you, I would do anything.”

You wonder if he’ll remember any of this in the morning. You wonder if he’ll take your words to heart, or if they’ll simply be enveloped in dreams fueled by drunkenness, reduced by sleep to nothing but a blur.

...it’s not always up to you to heal their wounds. At some point, they have to learn to heal themselves

You’ve done everything you can for him, you decide. Even if you continue to walk by his side, the rest is up to him.

One Saturday morning, Jaemin shows up at your door dressed in black jeans and a button-down shirt, his hair swept up neatly. There’s a kind of brightness to him; it’s not necessarily hope or excitement, but certainly a change from what you’ve seen the last couple of weeks. He’s meeting Jieun for lunch, he tells you nervously. He wants to see you before he goes. You tell him you’re proud of him. That genuinely, you admire him.

The next time you see him, it’s at a floral shop. He’s in the middle of picking out flowers, and he flushes when he sees you. A single rose seemed too cliche, he tells you sheepishly, and asks your opinion. He thinks she’ll prefer something a bit more unique but equally tasteful, equally elegant. You recommend orchids or gerberas. They last longer than roses, but they convey the same message. When he’s gone, you buy a small vase of irises for your apartment; your living room needs a bit of colour.

Weeks later, you find a small package in the mail: a parting gift, you realize when you tear open the padded envelope. It’s nothing too special, nothing fancy or expensive—just a piece of blue glass wrapped in silver accents, attached to a delicate chain that you loop around your neck. When you hold the pendant up to the sun, its blue tint shatters into infinite colours, tossing specks of luminous yellow and orange all over your bedroom. More than just a singular colour, it reflects the other hues around you. And for just a brief moment, you think you see your own reflection.

You watched Jaemin move on just as you’d watched Mark and Donghyuck: from afar, with reserve but at the same time, excitement. Close enough for him to know that you were still there for him, but allowing some sort of distance that grew as the days melded into weeks and then months.

For the most part, he seemed to be alright. His texts were always cheerful, covered in happy emoticons—he used them when he was too giddy with excitement to type actual words. “We figured things out,” was all he said one night, and it was all you needed to hear to know that they’d be okay.

You started to notice the fondness he’d developed for her; it was subtle at first, just a hint of affection in his voice when he told you about her over the phone. Though slowly, it developed into something more. It was just as Donghyuck said: time had forged a relationship out of nothing, out of empty words and empty emotions, growing a garden from a barren piece of wasteland.

The first time you spoke to Kim Jieun, it was over the phone during one of your calls with Jaemin. She’d chimed in on your conversation at some point to say hi, and the way she spoke almost reminded you of Donghyuck: bright, cheery, a little sarcastic in a playful manner. You quickly learned that she was easy-going though brutally honest at times, well-mannered yet well-humoured. Most importantly, she wasn’t judgemental, and she didn’t treat you any differently from Jaemin’s other friends just because you’d been with him previously.

Of course, there was still a sense of yearning, a bittersweetness whenever you saw the two of them together. Your fingers always danced fleetingly along the screen of your phone before pressing like on the photos he posted to his social media. You saw him less and less, only occasionally running into him at the bakery you used to frequent together or at a friend gathering. For the most part, you let the past stay in the past. He seemed happy. And honestly, you were happy for him.

“I told you he’d be fine,” Donghyuck murmured to you at one of Jeno’s rampant parties, once most of the guests had trickled out for the night. The two of you sat on the balcony, watching everyone stumble around in their drunken stupor: Jeno was passed out on the couch with two cats sitting perched on his chest. Renjun was trying to braid flowers into Jaemin’s hair, which he’d recently bleached yet another shade lighter to match Jieun’s platinum locks. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Chenle and Jisung exchange a few bills and bicker over a bet—Chenle was still in denial that Jisung had won, apparently.

“I didn’t doubt you for a second, Hyuck.”

“But you were worried,” he grinned smugly.

“Why wouldn’t I be worried?” You sighed and knocked back the rest of your wine before motioning for him to pass you the bottle. You swiftly poured yourself another glass. “If I couldn’t have my happy ending, at least I wanted him to have his. As… cliche as that sounds.”

Donghyuck raised a brow at you. “What’s to say that you won’t get yours too? They can’t keep you waiting forever. The longest it ever took for someone to find their soulmate was 241 years.”

“Goddamn, are you trying to make me feel better or worse?”

“Better, of course! Okay, what I’m trying to say is that it’s rare for anyone to wait longer than two centuries. If everyone lived for up to three hundred years, we’d have a lot of dictators and other crazies running the world. The universe would spontaneously combust.”

“I know I’m barely even halfway there, but come back to me when I set a new world record,” you rolled your eyes, to which he responded with a small chuckle.

“So what now?” He glanced at Jaemin, who sat across the room with his eyes half-closed, an empty red solo cup in his hands. Jieun had her head on his shoulder, rambling drunkenly about something to Renjun. If you hadn’t known any better, you would have thought she’d been a part of the group all along; she fit in so seamlessly, and it warmed your heart to see her getting along with everyone.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “Nothing for now, I guess. Just waiting.”

“Whoever it is, I’m sure they’ll be worth it,” he hummed in reply.

“You think so?”

“People say that the longer you wait, the better. It’s all in your head, of course, but they have a point.”

You sighed, lifting your head to gaze at the stars hanging overhead. “I suppose they do. Maybe someday I get to find out.”

He patted you on the shoulder reassuringly. “You’ll figure it out. You always have.”

Donghyuck left a little later to get a drunk Jeno to bed, and then you had only the quietness of night to keep you company. Your mind drifted and you contemplated his words, repeating them silently to the wind. The night sky replied with nothing but a gentle breeze against your skin.

You could be patient, you thought as you watched the others inside. You fished the pendant out from beneath your shirt and stared at the reflection in the glass. It was as if you were grasping a piece of the night sky between your fingers: the stars and a crescent moon captured in a single, translucent oval. In the dark, the pendant appeared deep indigo, not too different in hue from the four coloured markings you’d acquired over the years.

But the sun would rise in due time, you thought to yourself mirthfully. Beneath the brightness of morning, you’d hold a different colour in your hands. You tucked the necklace back into the fabric of your shirt. You could wait.

read the epilogue, yellow

#nct #nct fanfic #nct dream #nct dream fanfic #nct jaemin #jaemin #na jaemin #jaemin fanfic #nct angst #nct fluff #jaemin angst #jaemin fluff #the longest shit ive ever written hoLY SHIT #cznnet

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jilytho · 4 years

Text

Blind Dating and Miscalculating

Blind dating au where Lily is on a blind date and wrongly assumes James is her date

Read below or on AO3 :)

“Whew does Mary know how to pick ‘em!” James looked up in shock to see a woman, apparently under the impression some Mary somehow ‘picked’ James leering at him, teetering from side to side as she pulled back the chair opposite him and clambered into it, nearly knocking off the unused wine glass closest to her.

Drunk. Drunk but also gorgeous. Red tendrils that likely at one point in the night were neatly arranged were now flung about her shoulders in partial disarray.

“Scuse me, I’m not quite sure you’ve got the right-”

“I told her I didn’t want to go! I said,” she reached over and grabbed his hand, pulling it towards her, wide eyes locked on his. One look at her bright green eyes (beautifully green eyes, his favorite shade of green, actually) was enough to tell that while the lights were on, nobody was home. “I said, Mary!” She exclaimed, continuing to cradle his hand close to her while gesturing wildly with the other, “Mary I have no interest in dating, period. Nevermind getting set up with some random strange man. Especially with the name Mark. I mean, look, no offense Mark and other Marks of the world but it really is a rather plain name.” She paused to catch his gaping mouth opening and closing not unlike a fish before continuing. “That’s not to say that plain is always a bad thing or that extravagant names are a good thing,” she stumbled over the word extravagant and pushed right past it, “I mean I dated this bloke, Severus, once and I thought wow such an interesting name, fascinating. Nope. Dead boring and borderline stalkerish fellow as it turns out. So you’d think I’d like plain after an experience like that, wouldn’t you?”

She stopped abruptly, eyes staring at him expectantly, apparently waiting for some form of agreement.

“Erm I suppose so?”

“Exactly! You’d think! But I mean, Mark. So mundane. I just assumed the person would be mundane as well. Probably an accountant or a lawyer, blech. Not to mention I was a bit nervous, been a little since my last date if I’m being honest. Not that there weren't offers.” She gripped his hand tighter, “There were offers, Mark. Don’t start thinking I’m desperate. I had offers.” She dropped his hand and folded her arms as if he had suggested otherwise.

“I didn’t say- I’m not, I'm sorry can we back up for a-” his words and thoughts were a jumbled mess.

“Anyway,” she huffed, rolling her eyes and relaxing her arms, “anyway. Anyway, what was I saying? Mark! Yes, Mark. So as I was saying, I didn’t want to go on this date at all but Mary was all ‘it’ll be good for you! He’s so cute! We’ll get drinks first!’ and so I agreed to come meet you, but may have drank more than three margaritas but in my defense it was 2 for 1 and Mary was paying and I can never pass up a good deal. So that's why I’m late. But I am here. I am here with you, Mark, and you are far less boring looking than I expected. Yes, much cuter than any Mark I’ve ever met. Mary did well.” She nodded approvingly, sitting back in her seat and smiling constantly.

From the corner of his eye he saw Sirius walk into the restaurant and see the woman in the chair Sirius had been meant to occupy. James immediately tried to signal with his eyes, “HELP, HELP, HELP” without alerting the redhead in front of him when Sirius, the bastard, winked at him lightly, turned on his heel, and left.

She hadn’t noticed his desperate face as she was busy scanning the menu over and when she wasn’t calling him Mark or yelling in his face she was quite pretty. Extremely pretty, actually. Like exactly the kind of person he’d want to have one a blind date. Or a non-blind date. Any date really. And the girl clearly needed food in her stomach to soak up some of her margarita, really it would be irresponsible to leave her like this. The least he could do would be to keep her company, pretend he was Mark to try and minimize her embarrassment, and then make sure she got home safe.

“You know,” she met his eye over her menu as he spoke, “for someone who seems to have a lot of opinions on my name, I don’t believe Mary ever told me yours.”

She laughed lightly, a beautiful wind chimey, tinkly noise that sent delight shooting down his spine.

“Lily, Lily Evans.” She reached her hand across the table again, this time for him to shake. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure is all mine, Lily, Lily Evans.” He shook her hand lightly and looked back at his menu.

Dinner seemed to fly by. Once Lily got some food into her system she sobered up rapidly, yet sobriety in no way impacted her ability to keep him completely enthralled and entertained. Each passing minute made him more inclined to legally change his name to Mark and live the lie for the rest of his days.

Sure their life would be a lie, he thought as she threw her head back laughing over some asinine story he was telling of Sirius, red hair swirling around like flames, but it would be fun.

Not only was she bold, she openly mocked his ordering bourbon, ruthlessly holding nothing back despite only knowing him for a matter of minutes, but she was also unbelievably sweet. Listening intently to every story he shared, telling multiple of her own where despite being an ass kicking journalist she somehow also found time to volunteer at the animal shelter and had fostered three different dogs in the last two months. Ruthless, for sure, as she batted her eyes at him over her water glass causing all sorts of feelings to start to stir. She would give James, correction- Mark, a run for his money and then some. Barely an hour of sitting across from her and he was pretty sure he’d take his dinner knife to Mark's throat if the bloke ever actually did show up. Whether it be from jealousy or fury that any human being could ever stand up this goddess in front of him.

The conversation flowed easily. Leaping seamlessly from her parents professions to his childhood mischief to the time she dyed her sister's dog key lime green. Her dad had a thing for flowers, apparently, marrying a Rose and insisting on making their daughters Petunia and Lily.

“You could keep up the tradition, you know. Get your kids some flower names. Maybe something unique,”

“What?” She scoffed, “and subject them to years of cheesy, thoughtless bouquets of a flower you hardly like just because it’s your namesake? I don’t think so.”

“Then make it a flower they’d want to get! Or an herb, like Basil. Everyone wants a Basil plant around.” He pointed his drink at her as she spluttered incoherently, “are you telling me you don’t love a basil plant?”

“You’re right, how dare I overlook such a top quality name as Basil.” She drawled out in a monotone, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I suppose we’d go with something more colorful though, like Anemone!” She looked like the idea was pure genius and now he was the one spluttering in her face.

He tried not to let his heart burst at her use of we.

“I’m sorry, isn’t that the ocean thing? The Nemo thing? The sea anananamename thing where they live? That’s what you want to name your child?”

Her eyes were screwed shut as she clutched her chest, gasping for air through her laughs.

“What?” He grinned at her, not caring if he had somehow said the wrong thing or appeared dumb when her laughter was so intoxicating. He felt a tingling run straight down his spine.

“A sea,” she gasped out through choked laughs, “anemone!”

“That’s what you just said!” He continued to argue.

“Whew,” she wiped a stray tear from one eye, “truthfully you’re not that far off base at all. Same exact spelling. But they do have anemone for flowers that are on land as well as the sea. I’ve just never heard someone butcher a word so spectacularly.”

“Yes well, you know I’m quite good at that.” He leaned back in his seat as her eyebrow quirked up. “In fact, so good that I have been named the anti-Spelling B Champ,” he nodded matter of factly and continued on as if she wasn’t gaping at him, echo of a laugh still present on her face.

“It’s true! Annually, all the people that hate spelling b’s gather and compete to see who can truly butcher a word the most. I’ve won every time. You’re sitting with a nationally ranked word ruiner.”

“Oh wow, however could I have not known. Do you have any secrets of the trade you could share?”

“I usually would never divulge such confidential information but just because you asked so nicely and because you are in fact stunningly gorgeous, I’ll give you one.” He leaned in conspiratorially, hitching a finger for her to do the same, and dropped his voice low. “To really put yourself over the top and seal that victory,” he looked side to side dramatically, checking for eavesdroppers before looking back on her, “is all about the silent Q.” He sat back again and watched her shoulders shake lightly with poorly concealed giggles.

“Personally,” he grinned strongly, all pretense of secrecy gone, “I like to throw a minimum of three in there just to really set myself apart. Once I did a silent q followed by a silent x. I nearly sent the judge to an early grave.”

“You know I bet what would have really done him in is if you followed the x with a p but you pronounce the p like a-“

“Lily?” James reared back to find some bloke standing next to their table staring anxiously in between the two of them. “Are you Lily?” Lily nodded lightly, eyebrows scrunched in confusion, eyes flitting between the newcomer and James.

“Um yes I am, I’m sorry do I know you?”

A wave of cold dread overcame him, realization sinking into his chest. The newcomer, just about their age, polo and khakis, easily could have been a lawyer or an accountant. He had to explain before she realized as well and he looked like a total lying creep.

“Lily, I can explain-“

“I’m Mark, I’m so sorry I’m so late. My car broke down and I didn’t have your number.”

They spoke at the same time, the real Mark reaching a hand out to shake Lily’s.

She didn’t take it. Instead she swiveled dumbly between the two staring accusingly at the real Mark. “You can’t be Mark. I’m having dinner with Mark. You must be here for someone else.”

“Lily, I really can explain if you’d just-“ James started again as Lily whipped around to face him. “You! You liar! Who are you?” She pushed back in her chair looking at him as suspiciously as if he had just announced he liked to moonlight as a serial killer in his spare time.

“I’m sorry, your name is Mark as well?” The real Mark stared down at James politely inquiring, as if this was all perhaps a genuine mix up and not a case of an imposter stealing his date.

“Not quite, its erm James. But truly if you think absolutely it the names are quite similar, the whole second letter being an A and the part about being in the Bible and what not.” Mark's eyebrows rose and Lily did not appear amused by his comparison.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to lie or anything, I just… you sat down and assumed I was Mark and I was actually meant to be meeting a friend but you were just so pretty and funny and I didn’t want you to feel like you’d been stood up so I thought I could come clean later but I just wanted to get to know you. I’m sorry, truly.” She looked at him, hurt and confused, and he just wanted to hang his head low and apologize another half dozen times.

“I can leave so you two can get on with your date,” his heart sank as he stood, gesturing the open chair to Mark without quite meeting his eye.

He forced himself to look up at Lily, “I really am sorry. It was really nice to meet you, have a nice evening.”

He turned lightly and began to head out of the restaurant, feeling Lily’s eyes burning into the back of his head even while he heard Mark sit down across from her and apologize again for his lateness.

He was barely out the door when he heard her yelling his name, his real name, from behind and spun back around to watch her jogging to catch up to him.

He braced himself for her to yell at him or hit him or completely tear him a new one and gave her a forced smile.

“Lily, I-“

“Is your name really James?” she huffed, somewhat out of breath.

“Erm yes. Just James. No Jim or Jay or weird nicknames really…” his right hand came up to ruffle the back of his hair, still anxiously waiting for her to scream at him.

She reached up on her tiptoes, hand snaking around the back of his neck (oh god she was gonna try and hold his head still so she could really hit him strongly) and used it to pull herself up closer and his head down and touch her lips lightly to his.

The light kiss sent shockwaves down his body as he froze, processing what was happening.

“I like the name James so much more.” She whispered against his lips, barely a breath away. That was all he needed to throw an arm around her waist and tuck her snugly against him, the other hand going to caress her cheek and bring his lips back to her, stronger than before. They kissed deeply and sweetly and he felt it down through his toes and in every single nerve in his body.

When they pulled apart, still wrapped up in each other, and she lightly hummed his name against him, he felt suddenly very sure that there was no sound better than her saying his name.

“So, I’d really like to do that again. And the date again. With you knowing my name the whole time preferably. Preferably right now. What's to say I go take care of the bill and you take care of the real Mark and we go get some ice cream, maybe?”

“What’s say we do.” She intertwined their fingers and pulled him lightly back towards the restaurant for a fresh start.

#jily #jily fic #jily fanfic #mywriting #jilytho #james potter #lily evans #harry potter fanfiction #jily au

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javisjeanjacket · 3 years

Text

Circles : A Mamma Mia! AU - (javi gutierrez x reader)

PART ONE

A/N: this is based solely off of the press photos from the uwomt behind the scenes, so I'm sure the characterization won't be canon once the movie comes out but hey, thats fiction baby😌✌🏻

If we like this, I have more parts that I could write, I just wanted to get a feel for how many of you wanted Javi G content!

Word count: 2.5K

Warnings: non-descript smut, light choking, kissing, weird campy writing?, cursing

The sun burned hot on your skin underneath the cover of the ocean side trees. The sand below your bodies was scorching, but the stinging heat of the minute granules didn't compare to the white hot passion crackling and thumping in your veins. You could taste the salt in the air from the waves lapping at the shoreline. Your emotive cries mixed with the seagulls cawing to keep the two of you hidden from everyone but yourselves.

Javi's wide palm wrapped around your neck, his fingers intertwining with the gold necklaces he had bought for you earlier in the week and putting firm pressure on your throat.

The jewelry pulled against your quivering skin as his hand flexed around the column of your neck, sending a delicious ripple of pain and pleasure down your spine.

His face was tucked into the curve of your neck, his breath awakening each pore as it fanned upon it and his mustache sending off tiny explosions on your skin. "One sip from Aphrodite's fountain." He whispered, tugging the end of your earlobe in between his teeth as he chuckled.

You moaned as your back arched up from the hot sand, your arm reaching up to claw at his back and-

Your alarm blared in your small bedroom and you awoke with a start. The heat of the sun and of dream Javier, faded from your skin.

With a deep sigh, you allowed the dream to float out of your mind and up to the blue-painted dome ceiling. You ran a defeated hand over your face and stretched your groggy limbs.

~~~~~~

Your day trekked on-wards, but your mind was stuck trying to water down and digest the feelings your dream had brought back to you. It had been years since you had seen Javier Gutierrez, five to be exact, and there was no reason that he should have been something other than a quick 'What a wild two weeks it's been! Javi and I danced on the beach, and we kissed on the beach, and we...all over the beach' in your journal.

But he hadn't been.

With his perfectly tanned skin and the shimmer of his golden rings, he had become stuck in your memory for the better part of five years. The want of him served as the only string that pulled you to think farther than the island. The fantasy of the life you could have had with him, or he with you, carried you through your days, a welcome distraction to the mundane toil and grind of running a tourist hotel.

You fiddled with your breakfast at the makeshift break room table; a lousy portion of eggs, bread, and sauteed vegetables taking up your plate. Sighing heavily and looking down at the cold coffee at the bottom of your mug, your mind began to replay your memories of Javi and the summer you shared. You remembered the weight of his hand in yours and how safe you had felt in his arms.

Just then, an employee called your name from the lobby, and with a quick swig of the coffee at the bottom of your mug, you stood from the break room table and replied, "Be right there!"

~~~~~~~

Javier Gutierrez did not get nervous. His business demanded that he remain forever stoic, calculating before emotive, strategic before impulsive. Nevertheless, as his Tom Ford's crossed the threshold into the brightly colored tourist hotel, a bead of sweat trickled down the back of his neck and tickled his golden skin. His dark eyes searched the bustling hotel for the face he knew so well, the one he had taken apart and put back together over and over again in his mind for years since he had last seen it. But, to his dismay, you were nowhere to be found.

Letting out a deep sigh, he moved through the lobby and to the front desk. "Javier Gutierrez." He said with a tight lipped smile.

"You're checking in?" The frizzy-haired woman behind the counter asked, flashing him a doe-eyed smile.

He nodded and shook his golden watch in agitation. He looked quickly behind him, a motion he most often used to keep himself from danger, but now instead, to keep himself from missing the sight of you.

The receptionist’s cheeks rouged and she turned her face from him, bashfulness overwhelming her small form. She bent down to the desk and scribbled something on a piece of paper before tearing it away from the whole and tucking it in her hand.

Javi leaned against the desk and looked over her as she searched for his name in the computer. He pulled his lips into his mouth before asking for you by name.

"Oh, yeah." The receptionist answered, turning from him to retrieve his room key from it's spot in the lock box fastened to the wall. "She's the manager here. I just saw her a second ago..." The young woman trailed off, looking past the counter and into the rancorous lobby for you. "I'm not sure where she is," The receptionist said, turning back to him. "But, if you're looking for some company while you're here, here's my number." She slipped his room key and a scrap of paper into Javi's large hand.

The kingpin took the key and the paper from her and quirked the side of his lips upwards. "I appreciate it." He looked into her ocean-colored eyes and nodded, leaving her to sulk for the rest of her day behind the front desk.

Javi maneuvered his way through the busy lobby, clutching the strap of his bag and hopping up the brightly tiled stairway to the rooms and hopefully, to an elevator. His shoes struggled to gain traction on the unevenly sanded floor, its glossy finish not helping in the slightest.

A crowd of women passed him, each set of eyes flicking to his, roaming over the scandalous bare chest his shirt left exposed, and the way the expensive fabric tightened around the bulge of his biceps. Lingering on the wave of his chestnut-colored hair and the blonde streaks hidden between the folds of brown.

Javi nodded as he passed them and smiled to himself, his eyes still searching for an elevator or at least a sign to point him towards the penthouse.

~~~~~~~~

Your tongue stuck out from the side of your mouth and you grunted as you pulled the wrench as hard as you could to one side. With a heavy sigh, you threw your head back in frustration and moved both of your hands to your hips, cursing under your breath.

"Stupid fucking light fixture." You whispered to yourself.

Most tourists didn't want to shell out the money to stay in a penthouse for a week-long vacation to Greece, and for a moment you considered leaving the upsetting broken fixture and your frustration behind, but a family was flying in to have a big wedding, and you reasoned that they would want to let the bride stay in the penthouse for at least one night, surely.

You clicked your tongue and huffed in frustration before bracing yourself on the rickety ladder and reaching out try and loosen it once more.

"Hello?" A voice said from behind you.

You stopped mid-motion and furrowed your eyebrows. Your lips parted and the demanding light fixture no longer held your focus.

The sound of the voice was just as you remembered it to be. Deep and luxurious with a twinge of gravel. Like a velvet blanket wrapped around pebbles from the shoreline near the hotel. Your heart leapt with possibility.

'Could he?' You thought to yourself, but then stopped. It had been five years, surely it's wouldn't be him. Surely. 'Could he have come back for me?' The thought finished itself all the same and you had to stop your hands from shaking as you turned on the ladder to face the man in the doorway.

The shape of his face hit you like a punch to the gut. His stubble and the mustache he kept so perfectly trimmed, the curve of his nose and the shocking intensity of his eyes. His hair was longer now, wavy and curly at the base of his neck.

Just looking at him pulled a whimper from your throat.

He had grown broader and stronger with age, but it was still Javier Gutierrez who stood before you.

The two of you grew still there, falling deeper and deeper into the other, completely undisturbed by the need to return his hello, to climb down from your ladder, or for him to set his bag on the ground. Not with the two so close to becoming one again. Like the crash of the waves on the shore, you felt the memory of him come rushing back into you, overwhelming your beating chest and thundering across your whirring mind. You felt his arms, secure and so long awaited, you remembered the wind whipping across your skin and Javi's mouth on your shoulder. The feeling of his heavy hand as it pushed into yours, the sand around the two palms shifting to accommodate the passion surging through the granules. The taste of his mouth revived itself in yours, subtle like honey, but raw and alive like the berries he was so fond of.

With a sudden crash, the troublesome light fixture fell to the floor below your ladder, cracking and splintering into hundreds of pieces.

You both jumped at the sound, the gaze of the other having fully enraptured each of you. You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry, and began to step down the ladder.

Javi was quick to move towards you, dropping his Louis Vuitton bag to the floor on his way. "Careful." He said, extending his hand as he stepped carefully in between the shards of wood and broken bulbs.

Your heartbeat thumped behind your eyes as you descended the ladder and you worked to squelch the shudder in your chest when you allowed your hand to touch his once more, the tanned palm warm and wide and strong. The power and passion raging through the veins beneath yours snapped and beckoned to you, as if his very skin was aching for your touch.

You let out a soft hum at the contact and Javi's eyelashes fluttered slightly. He allowed his face to twinge upwards slightly; a smile playing bashful. He kicked the broken fixture's pieces out of your way, keeping your hand tight in his own as you stepped off the ladder and walked to ground that was unperturbed by the scattered chunks of wood. His golden and jeweled rings pained your hand, but the pain in your palm meant that it was in fact, Javier's hand that you were holding. And Javier's hand was worth a bit of pain.

Standing now with him in front of you, the years past suddenly were brought to the present.

He kept your hand in his as it dropped to his side. "You work here now?" He asked, his voice slick with emotion and his gaze devastating.

You dropped your eyes from his dark ones and smirked, "No, I just fix every light fixture I can find."

The kingpin chuckled, a inviting and seductive sound, one that filled his entire chest and compelled the listener to ascend upwards with him.

"I wanted to call you," You began, your voice warbling under his presence. "but I thought it was a long shot that you'd even reply." You took in a deep breath as you ended, "But I knew something would bring you back to me, a siren's song maybe."

"A siren's song?" Javi smiled, his cheeks filling. He dropped your hand from his and moved a palm to your cheek, the golden rings still warm from the touch of you.

You gasped softly as his thumb drug down your lips and chin.

He shook his head, a caramel-colored curl falling to frame his ravishing features. "No. No one else brought me back here but you. You're someone worth coming back for."

Heat began to pool in your stomach and you licked your lips as his hand moved down towards your neck, intertwining slowly with the golden necklaces glittering there.

"Javi..." You whispered, your dream suddenly replaying in your mind.

He tilted his head and furrowed his eyebrows, taking in a deep breath as he looked over you. His mind could not process your return to him, how could he have been so lucky? The most precious thing he had ever found, he had somehow loved and lost and now, in some wondrous twist of fate, he had been given a second chance. "Can I kiss you?" He whispered, his eyes shackling yours in an iron grip.

You swallowed and felt your heart leap at his request. You nodded meekly and moaned just before his lips found yours, the pressure and heat of them instantly knocking your knees out from under you and the wind out of your chest. You placed your palms on his chest, your thumbs running softly back and forth over his exposed skin.

His hands moved up from your neck to cradle your jaw. His mustache tickled your sensitive skin and the taste of him was quick to overwhelm your senses- sweet, warm, and wet.

You let one of your hands wander up from his chest to clutch the curls at the base of his neck, the feeling of his hair in between your fingers starting up a kaleidoscope of memories in your mind.

Javi moved one hand to your hip and he pulled you to meet his body. He hummed into your kiss and the vibration sent a tingle down you and the feeling bubbled and popped in your abdomen. With his broad frame, he stepped towards you, pushing the pair of you back towards the wall behind you. The kingpin reached out and slammed the penthouse door closed as the pair of you passed by it, his hands quickly moving back to cup your face.

“Of course you’re staying in the penthouse.” You sneared in between gasping kisses.

“I was,” He replied, then moved his lips from yours to suck a bruise onto your neck. “Until the manager dropped a light fixture in my room.”

You let out a laugh filled with lust and wrapped your arms around the broad expanse of his shoulders.

“Guess I’ll have to find somewhere else to stay now.” The man teased, his dark eyes flicking up to look into yours.

“There’s room in my bed if you want it.” You answered, your back arching against the wall and your eyes fluttering closed.

Javi hummed on your skin and nipped at your chin. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

JAVI G TAGLIST: @oloreaa @filthybookworm (I just assumed y'all wanted a tag, lemme know if not lol!)

GENERAL TAGLIST: @softly-sad @over300books @autumnleaves1991-blog @phoenixhalliwell

#javi gutierrez #javi g x reader #javi gutierrez x reader #javi gutierrez x y/n #the unbearable weight of massive talent #pedro pascal #hai writes #mamma mia!#javi g x y/n

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91percentpynch · 3 years

Text

lonely heart - kevaaron au pt 4

oh look it‘s me, coming out of my dark hole to make you suffer with a super sad chapter with a nasty cliffhanger:) so get your tissues ready and enjoy!! okay first of all sorry that i didn‘t update this in a g e s and that it‘s rather short and for the cliffhanger, but i‘ll try to update it more regularly now:)

check this out for the other parts:)

trigger warnings: drug abuse, mention of suicide, mention of mental health issues, very sad aaron, mention of blood

“You were too good for me”, Aaron whispered into the void. “You were way too fucking good for me. You made me a better man. And I fucked up”

Aaron got up as he felt the tears burning in his eyes. He knew he wouldn‘t be able to sleep alone tonight. Like every single goddamn night since he left Kevin. Like every single goddamn night since he made the biggest mistake of his life.

„Taylor?“, the blonde haired boy murmered, „You up?“

„Babe, you know I‘m up. My girlfriend lives three states away, we talk every single day at the same time as you call your man. Not that I would be able to sleep when you call him, cause a) i love Day and b) you‘re always sad and high and end up in my room anygays, so did he take the phone darling?“

Taylor was Aaron‘s roommate and the closest thing he had to a best friend. She had been there for him every single day, cuddled him, held him while he cried and dried his tears afterwards. And Aaron did the same when she misssed her girlfriend too much.

„You do realize he is not my man anymore, I fucked that up. Big time. He did actually take the phone just to tell me to fuck off and stop calling“

„You could always go over there and say it in his pretty face. Didn’t say you can’t come over did he?Pro point: Might lead to making out“, Taylor said while taking him in her arms. „Plus another pro point: you‘d get sober again. And you‘re less moody. No offense but a Kevin-less Aaron is hardly managable, like you‘re either a whiny little bitch or you‘ll give me the death glare of the cenutry. Legit worse than Andrew‘s and I called him a cute little baby boo once when I was drunk and he almost stabbed me right there with a look on his face like I just murdered Neil in front of him“

„Tay, I take that as a compliment. And we both know Kevin’s a bit of a dumbass so he did not exactly tell me Not To Come over just stopp calling. Anyways I don‘t even know where he lives. And stop talking about me getting high, you do the same shit“

„Yeah but I know my limits and I have not the same history as you. And for the i DoN‘t EvEn KnOwS wHeRe He LiVeS, phone number. Now“

„O- okay“, Aaron said and told her Kevin‘s phone number while Taylor calmingly stroked his back.

„Neat, got him“, Taylor said after a while. „He‘s with the scary big dude and his adorable little boyfriend I think? I have their address right here, I think we‘re gonna visit them tomorrow cause it‘s like 4 am right now and we don‘t wanna rob him his beauty sleep plus we don‘t want to wake the scary big dude. And I‘m pretty sure the adorable small golden retriver boy could and would stab us“

„Did you just stalk my ex and located his phone at 4 am like fucking Garcias in Criminal Minds?“, Aaron said confused.

„Anything for you big guy. And as I said I miss Day‘s pretty face, preferably in your pretty face so you shut the fuck up about how stressed and depressed and lonely you are.“, Taylor chuckled as Aaron looked at her shocked.

„Well I miss Casey, preferable in your face so YOU shut up“, Aaron was never as good in witty remarks as his brother. Especially high Aaron.

„Babe I think it‘s time for you to go to bed, you‘re not fun when you‘re sad, high and tired. Come here, let me cuddle you, while you whiney little bitch sleep“

Aaron slowly went over to Taylor and into her loving arms, laying down, trying to fall asleep.

After a long while aaron drifted into sleep, just to be greeted by familiar smaragd eyes. In his dream Kevin and he never broke up. Kevin was on top of him, his hands gently discovered Aaron‘s body, touching him as if he was sacred, something to worship. Kevin‘s lips were at Aaron‘s ear whispering sweet nothingness. Aaron‘s hips moved against Kevin‘s loving touch. „Stress release“ Kevin called these holy moments in dawn. „Highlight of my day“ Aaron called them.

The dream was as beautiful as it was cruel. It was as if his body, his mind were as much refusing as able to believe that Kevin was gone. It was his own fault, Aaron knew it. But the ever present voice of his mother, disapproving and disgusting, in his head was just too much for him to handle. He thought - foolish as Aaron was - that the pain of living without Kevin would be better, less cruel, less painful. But he never knew real love and therefore never experienced its lost. Until that faitful day. Until Kevin took his bags and left.

Aaron was used to pain. The hot one after an extraordinarily vicious hit. The cold one when his mother died. The numbing one when the hunger was growing more and more unbareable. But nothing was even slightly as hard to handle as the loss of Kevin in his life.

Kevin was the first good thing Aaron had. He gave him a will to stay, to try, to give this stupid sport everything he got. And Exy turned into more mundane things like getting his eating routine under control or getting a more or less acceptable sleeping schedule. The dark days were still there, for both of them, and they would probably never leave them completely alone, but they got less. And when they did happen they would hold each other together.

Ever since he fucked up things with Kevin, Aaron had more and more dark days. The voice of his mother telling him he‘s a failure, the bored stare of his brother and Aaron convincing himself Andrew wouldn‘t even bet an eye if he died, the voice telling him the world would be a better place without him growing louder and lourder every passing day.

Logically he could say that the death of a single person wouldn‘t change much for the over all world population, expect maybe it‘s some kind of insane mademan dicator or someone important, but still. It made sense. All he did after all was fucking up, being a failure, never good enough, never perfect.

His lonely heart only screamed Kevin‘s name and he knew if Kevin didn‘t take him back, his life wouldn‘t make much sense anymore. Well he would definetly not tell Kevin that. He would not manipulate Kevin into loving him, because that wouldn‘t be much better than not having him at all.

Aaron woke up the next day around noon. He didn‘t really feel like getting up, like getting up was simply too much. But Aaron knew he had to. He didn‘t want to worry Taylor more than he already did. And it would end today. One way or the other.

So he got up, put on the first pair of black jeans he could find and the first sweater his hands could find. Ironically it was one of the sweaters Kevin gave him, on the third of december last year. It was one of Aaron‘s favourites as well.

„Ready for the big Day, small guy?“, Taylor said winking at him.

„Not really? What the fuck am I supposed to do there anyways?“, Aaron replied on his way to the coffee maker.

„Talk to him? Deliver one of those borderline cringe big speeches. Get im flowers. Break into his bedroom and say ‚Draw me like one of your french girls‘, naked of course“, Taylor laughed at the face Aaron made, listening to her suggestions.

„I think I like the big speech. I mean I‘m shit with words, but I‘m sure you want to help your boy getting ‚his man‘ back, right? Also what kind of flowers would you give someone you dumped cause the voice of your dead mother told you it was wrong and disgusting, which you never told him for obvious reasons?“

„Honey, you‘re so fucked up sometimes, I love you but you should go to a therapist or something. Also I‘d say sunflowers or roses? I don‘t speak flowers man, I‘m the tech nerd. Not the romantic one, the nerd. But we‘re gonna make a snazzy speech and you‘re gonna get your man back“

After their typical breakfast - if Aaron didn‘t forget to eat again - they sat down together on the living room floor, paper and pen ready, trying to write the world changing speech.

„Why is this so fucking hard? Why can I only tell him how much I love and miss him when I‘m high off my ass“, Aaron complained.

„What about you don‘t think about him that much. Just tell me what you love about him and then we write that down?“, Taylor suggested.

Aaron took a deep breathe and closed his eyes. „I loved him because he was the first one who saw me. Aaron Minyard. And not just the other Minyard, the lesser twin, the shadow of Andrew. He looked at me and somehow chose me. Even if he could have had everyone else. He chose me, even though I‘m not special. Kevin chose the failure when he could have had the first prize. He looked at me and saw something worth loving, worth keeping around. Hardly anyone could tell Andrew and me apart. But it took him less than a day to do so. Kevin is strong, so so strong and somehow chose the most fragile thing he could find, took it and made it worth soemthing. Kevin made me feel something. Not numbness. Not pain. Something warm and beautiful and living. He gave me a reason to stay alive. Kevin made my life bearable, he made my life beautiful. We were both broken and we would probably still be broken if we were together but we softened each other‘s edges. Kevin believed in me when no one else would. He knew how I felt, knew what I needed and when I needed it. Kev gave me love and safety and I kicked it with my feet. This man is like a god who fell for whatever reasons for a homeless man. And I know I don‘t deserve him but I also know I cannot live without him. And I know that I must tell him that before it‘s too late. If it‘s not too late already“

Taylor wipped a tear out of her eyes. „That‘s it. You tell him that and we‘ll get him back“, she said. „Can I hug you?“

„Sure you loser“

„Ah there is my boy“

They spent the rest of the afternoon writing down the speech, making edits here and there. In the end Aaron collected the pages and went to his room to change. He replaced Kevin‘s sweater with a simple black jumper, put on his Docs, got his keys and left.

Aaro did feel a little uncomfortable, stalking Kevin like that. But he knew this was his chance to fix things. This was his chance to get Kevin back, to make his life worth living again. Which to be fair was a bit selfish, but you are allowed to be a little selfish sometimes, aren‘t you?

Jean and Jeremy‘s apartment complex was a 15 minute drive away from the flat Aaron shared with his three roommates. Theirs was fanzier, obviously. After all Jeremy was a professional Exy player and Jean was some kind of semi famous artist or fashion maker or whatever. They could give Kevin the world. They could give him what he desereved. All Aaron had to offer was an apology and his love. No money. Not yet anyway. Just anxiety, depression and stress.

But if Kevin was willing to take his love, to give Aaron one more chance, he promised himself Aaron would make it count. He will tell Kevin how much he loves Kevin every single god damn day. Aaron will get therapy and work on his issues. Sober up and this time for good. He will do anything to be worth of god‘s love. Just that god in his case was a twenty two year old boy with black hair, forming soft waves at the end and a smile that will make the sun jealous. Eyes made out of smaragd. Lips so sinful and kissable.

Aaron sat down in front of the door, waiting for his courage to come back to him. He could do this. He would get his man back.

Hours passed, or maybe it were only minutes or seconds after all before someone came closer. Ever so slowly Aaron lifted his head, just to look in the ever so familiar green eyes, big with shock.

„You said to stop calling. You never mentioned face to face conversations“, Aaron said, his voice hoarse.

Kevin stared at him as if he was a ghost, a reminder of his past life, something he rather wanted to forget.

„Look I know I fucked up. I know I‘m not good enough for you. I know you deserve the world and I cannot give it to you. And when you look me in the eyes and tell me you don‘t feel anything for me anymore, no love or hate or affection or whatever humans feel, I will turn away right now and go and never come back. Never bother you again. But if you allow me to apologize, if you however decide to gieve me one last chance, I prepared this whole ass speech for you“

Aaron was sure they could hear his heart beating against his chest, roaring, screaming to return home. To return to Kevin where it belonged.

Kevin‘s eyes wandered to the floor, his fingers automatically closed around his left wrist. A nervous habit. Just another little part that makes Aaron‘s heart ache.

Slowly, almost painfully slowly, he lifted those unbelieveable beautiful eyes and met Aaron‘s golden ones. Kevin studied him and the world around them stopped.

Out of the corner of Aaron‘s eyes he could see Jean going still, his breathing too calm, too even. It‘s the same thing Andrew does when someone fucks with Josten. At least his death would be fast. Or slow. Whatever. Aaron didn‘t really care, without Kevin it wasn‘t worth anygthing anyway.

„Why“, Kevin said after what feels like forever, „Why would I forgive you? Why would I give you another chance? Why would you think you can come back here just to fuck me over again? Aaron I loved you, I really did. I always will. You were my first love and maybe, yeah maybe, my last one. But right now I can‘t. I just, I just can‘t. Please leave. Please leave me alone. For now. Maybe, one day we can talk about it. But right now I cannot handle the thought of you to leave me. To tell me all these beautiful lies, to cut me open and leave me to bleed out. I love you“, tears were running down Kevin‘s cheek. Tears Aaron one day, a long time ago, promised himself he would never let Kevin feel again. Pain. Sadness. Everything because of his failure, because of his weakness, because he‘s a fucking piece of shit.

„Thank you for giving me a reason to stay. Jusst remember that you were my light, my warmth, my happiness and I never stopped loving you. Never will. Please just be happy“, Aaron replied as he turned around to walk to his cars.

When he was sure he was out of ear shot, he let himself feel. Feel the pain. Feel the loneliness. Feel the numbness and the cold and the hatred. It was in that moment, that moment where he was alone and nothing more to lose, that he decided that it was enough. He would end it. End it tonight.

„Thank you“, he texted Taylor. „I‘m glad I didn‘t eat you in the womb“, he texted Andrew. „You were not so bad after all“, he sent to Neil. And lastly „Thank you for taking me under your wing“, to Nicky. They would understand. It would take them some time but in the end they would feel better. They would be happier without them. Because at the end of the day he caused them pain and wasn‘t really worth a thing.

So when he got in his car, tears running uncontrallably down his cheeks, he knew what he had to do.

#all for the game #the foxhole court #the raven king #the king’s men #kevin day #aaron minyard #ship: kevaaron #kevaaron

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ayamari-no-goshi · 3 years

Text

Verboten 15 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary: AU. When Danny was five years old, he went missing for 2 weeks. In the years that follow, his family tried to make sense of what happened, only for the truth to be discovered years later.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, language. Be prepared for some very weird things

Parings: Danny/Sam

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr. This fic is very heavily inspired by folklore surrounding mysterious wilderness disappearances

Chapter 15

It took almost twenty minutes for Danny’s mom to finish her tirade against the police. Watching her flip out on the officers was almost therapeutic, and by the time she was done, he was more amused then terrified. It made the actual interview much easier.

The police were initially skeptical, especially since his dad took the lead on explaining what happened. His childish excitement at getting to chase something made it sound like some made up fantasy, but that changed when Vlad gave his account. With his reputation, they were forced to take it seriously.

The older of the two officers, O’Brian, took the statements as his partner, Kiziah, reviewed the scene for any clues or evidence of how the creature got in the house. Other police offers were on the way to do a proper investigation.

“You’re the one that reported that murder… That was just, I guess it’s two days ago now,” O’Brian mentioned as he glanced at Danny, who nodded. “We chalked up the weirdness of your original statement due to shock, but if you’re telling me this thing is the same perp, I have no idea what we have on our hands.”

“I… I don’t really know if it was the same thing or not, but it looked like it.”

The officer frowned as his partner returned. “No obvious sign of a break in,” Kiziah stated, “but I don’t want to touch anything without an evidence kit. There’s definitely a weird substance in the living room and near the front door that will need analyzed.”

“You didn’t hear anything?” O’Brian looked back towards Danny and his parents.

“To be honest, our family tends to be heavy sleepers,” his mother explained as she gave him a sheepish grin. “Jack can sleep through almost anything, and I tend to wear earplugs.”

“And I am of the opposite,” Vlad stated as he made himself a cup of tea. “However, it wasn’t until I heard Daniel sprint up the stairs and bang on his parents’ door that I awoke.”

“Sorry about that.” Danny winced at he glanced at the man. Vlad didn’t seem as creepy as he had the previous day, but something still seemed off about him.

The man gave him a dismissive wave. “No worries, my dear boy. I believe your actions were more than understandable given the circumstances.”

“Err… I guess you want me to say if I heard anything?” Danny shook his head as the officers stared at him. “I didn’t. It… it was just a feeling, you know? Like when you get a sudden chill.” That statement was true enough. He figured it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to state the more paranormal aspect of it. “I thought I was just being paranoid until I looked down the stairs and that… that thing stared back at me.”

An awkward silence fell as O’Brian took some more notes. It was only broken when Kiziah received some sort of notification and moved to let the investigation team in. They quickly went to work examining the scene and looking for anything out of the ordinary. While they worked, an older man with a scar down the right side of his face took O’Brian and Kiziah aside and spoke with them. Once they finished, the older officer approached Danny and his family.

“I’m Lieutenant Metzger, and I’ve recently been put in charge of the investigation of the recent murders in the city. You’ve probably heard the rumors this is a serial case. Well, that’s true.” A muscle moved in the man’s cheek as he seemed to debate with himself over how much he could tell them. “Due to some of the details, we were under the impression these were ritualistic in nature and called in the FBI for some help.” He sighed before asking, “Is it okay if I sit?”

“Sure,” Danny’s mother shared a confused look with her husband before she asked the officer if he needed some coffee.

When he agreed, he waited until there was a cup in front of him to continue. “Look, I don’t want this being leaked. We don’t need people thinking the police force is wasting money on chasing fairy tales.” Once the Fenton family agreed, he continued, “You aren’t the first one to report something not quite human around the time of the incidences. Due to shock and figuring it was some sort of disguise, we originally disregarded that. However,” he glanced around before he leaned in, “one of my own officers gave a report earlier this week of glancing something inhuman. It actually attacked his patrol car before it vanished. On top of that, I don’t think whatever that thing spilled on your carpet has any sort of mundane explanation behind it.” He sighed and rubbed his eyes, “Mr. and Mrs. Fenton, I’m going to be frank with you. I would like to contract you for some sort of weapon for this thing. From previous experiences, I’m fully aware your… experiments don’t tend to do harm to people, so if… by the off chance, this isn’t something normal, we’ll have a way to stop it.”

Danny’s father immediately lit up in excitement. After rambling some idea, he ran down to the lab to act upon it before anyone could stop him.

“Don’t mind him,” his mother fondly chuckled. “Jack is very enthusiastic about our work.”

“I… uh… take that you’re willing to help us?”

“Oh, absolutely. If this thing is what we think it might possibly be, we were going to do that anyways. But I do need to ask you something. You mentioned you thought the attacks were ritual in nature. I’m not really sure how to ask this, but for those poor people, was there a part of the body missing?”

Metzger’s shoulders tensed at her question as his eyes narrowed. “How did you know about that?”

“Wait… wait, you’re telling me… that thing… what it was holding in its hand…” Danny couldn’t say it. The memory of the blood dripping from that thing’s hand temporarily overwhelmed him. He must have swayed as his mother gently put a hand on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. If you decide to go help your father, I think he’d gladly welcome the help.”

Danny shook his head at the suggestion. He needed to stay put. It just felt safer with her and the officers around. She must have somehow understood as she gave his shoulder a motherly squeeze.

“You didn’t answer my question.” An irritated edge crept into Metzger’s voice.

His mother calmly turned back to him and returned his gaze. “I didn’t until just now. After Danny relayed his story, it struck a chord with me, and I did some digging. There is folklore in different parts of the US which tells of creatures who steal the life of humans and often a part of the body. If… if that’s what’s happening, then we’re in trouble.”

“What do you think this thing is doing?”

“Nothing good. Throughout history, humankind has offered up blood and other bodily sacrifices to gods, spirits, monsters, and everything in between. While usually the Aztecs come to mind, you can find evidence of this around the world. It’s believed those sacrifices would either strengthen or appease whichever entity was the focus.”

“Maddie, are you suggesting this thing is doing something similar?”

She nodded. “I… We aren’t sure if this thing is trying to strengthen itself or if it’s taking its gains to something else.”

A different memory surfaced in Danny’s mind. “That… when we were being rescued… the… the person that helped us get back… he said the A-listers got targeted for their blood,” he stammered before he could stop himself.

Everyone in the room stared at him. He and his friends really hadn’t talked about Frostbite. They mentioned to the police they thought someone helped them, but purposely left it vague. With how disoriented they were when they were found, the police were under the impression the trauma obscured some of their memories. Well, the cat was out of the bag.

Matzger stared at him. “Are you telling me what happened to your classmates may be related to… to this thing?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? Like I told my mom before you came, the person who grabbed me and my friends isn’t the same… whatever that thing is. But, I don’t know what Dash and them encountered after we got separated.”

“Hmm… what about the person who helped you?”

Danny shook his head. “Not the same person. He called himself Frostbite, and…” How could he even explain Frostbite? He was a ghostly yeti with an ice arm for God’s sake! “I didn’t think he was real,” he eventually stated as he glanced down at his hands. “He was so friendly and helpful. He was so much different than that thing.”

“Honey, you never really talked about this Frostbite person before.” His mother tried to reach out for his hand, but he pulled away.

“I… I thought he was a dream or hallucination or something for a while.” He hoped he sounded sincere. It was somewhat true after all. The fantastical nature of what happen still didn’t seem real to him, but he knew better. “I think he had helpers… there were other voices besides his.”

“That would line up with some of the evidence we have from your case,” Matzger stated as he rubbed his chin. “The injuries of you and your two friends were vastly different than the others who went missing which suggested multiple perpetrators. One of the other boys did mention that he thought they were rescued by a small group of people. I will have to take a closer look at the injuries of your classmates to determine whether or not they match up with our current victims. That should give us an idea if it’s the same thing or something different.”

“Sir,” officer Kiziah interrupted, “we’ve finished our initial sweep. We did have some trouble trying to keep Mr. Fenton out of the way in the basement area, but he’s promised to stay at the one table while we work. He’s apparently drafting some blueprints. Forensics is here and are working on collecting evidence. They’re hoping to talk to you.”

He sighed. “Thank you, Kiziah. Can you explain to them their options during our investigation progress?” After flashing them an apologetic smile which seemed out of place with his features, he told them he would be in touch and excused himself.

After shaking his head at his superior, Kiziah stated while the family could stay in the house during the investigation process, it had the possibility of accidentally contaminating evidence. He recommended for them to stay at a local hotel for a time.

Although his mother seemed hesitant to leave the house, she eventually agreed to head to a hotel after Vlad made a show of being concerned for the family’s safety. It took a bit of time to get his dad to leave the basement, but by the time seven am hit, Danny found himself in the best hotel in Amity Park, per Vlad’s firm recommendations.

After sending his friends a few texts to let them know what happened, that he was fine, and where he was, he told them he’d call them after he got some sleep. Although he wasn’t exactly happy he shared the room with Vlad, the pristine bed ended up being far more important to him than any worries.

…..

Several hours later, Danny woke up to one hundred and three texts, fifty-four missed calls, and eleven voicemails. Sam and Tucker had only one voicemail and call apiece and only a handful of texts. The rest were from his sister. Groaning, he sent Sam and Tucker messages to let them know he’d call them after he contacted his sister.

He really didn’t want to talk to Jazz at the moment. When she was scared, she became spastic, and a spastic Jazz was the last thing he wanted to deal with at the moment. Okay, the third to last think he wanted to deal with. The creepy thing and Plasmius took the top two places.

After taking several minutes to do everything other than call his sister, he finally buckled down and called her. As predicted, she spastically demanded to know if he was okay while berating him for not contacting her sooner. He just let her talk while making the occasional ‘uh huh’, ‘sorry,’ and ‘yeah.’ From experience, he knew it was better to let her get it out of her system.

He put Jazz on speaker while he attempted to find the hotel’s TV remote. Vlad didn’t seem to be in the room which really didn’t bother him. The man didn’t need to listen to Jazz flipping out after all. Eventually, he found the remote next to a message from Vlad stating he and his parents went to discuss something with the police and would be back with food.

“Danny, are you even listening to me?” Jazz demanded. He must have been quiet for too long.

“Uh? Yeah, I just happened to find a note Vlad left. You were saying something about how it was irresponsible for Dad to go running after the thing?”

“Wait, are you telling me you were left alone after everything that happened?”

“Jazz, I’m seventeen. I think I’m perfectly fine being alone for a few hours.”

“You were kidnapped by a crazy man and then were attacked in your own home! Do you really think it’s safe for you to be alone right now?” With that, she flew into a different tirade.

Knowing it would be a while, he decided the TV would be a preferable alternative to his upset sister. He turned it on only to have it immediately turn off. Thinking he accidentally doubled clicked the button, he tried again only to have the same result. Thinking the remote was damaged, he moved to try the button on the machine. Only, it turned on by itself. It and the lights began to dim and flicker, and his breath began to mist.

Glancing around, he watched as a girl emerged from the wall. At first, it seemed she didn’t notice him as she moved towards the opposite wall, but she stopped midway and faced him. She looked human but her entire body seemed insubstantial and almost wispy. Her skin, if it could be called that, was an unearthly white while her blue hair flickered like a flame.

She smirked at him while moving a little closer. “You shouldn’t be here, Baby Pop.” Her sultry and musical voice seemed far away, almost as if it was being broadcasted over an old radio. “Don’t know what you’re doing on this side of the veil, but you shouldn’t stay here.”

“What… what are you talking about? Who are you?” he stammered while vaguely registering Jazz asking him what was wrong.

“I like to slip to this side for some fun, but I might stick around a little longer this time. It’s already chaotic here, and a little more might do me some good. Besides, it seems I need to make a few people remember I still exist.” After appraising him, she gave another smile and headed back towards the wall. “You might want to get out while you can, Baby Pop. Things might get a little hot, and you new guys often aren’t strong enough to deal with the heat.”

“Hey, wait!” He tried to get her to stop, but she just vanished back into the wall. Unsure what to do, he stood in the center of the room dumbfounded until he realized his phone was still on speaker and his sister was calling for him.

“Hey, Jazz, I’m going to have to call you back,” he stated as he moved towards the door. “Something really weird just happened.” He hung up on her as he ran into the hallway looking for some evidence of the ghost.

He barely made it to the elevators when the fire alarm sounded. Not wanting to stick around, he quickly found the stairs and made his way to the lobby as the rest of the guests started to follow suit. By the time he reached the third floor, he began to smell smoke. There had to be a fire. Is that what that ghost meant? Did she somehow set it?

He really hoped that wasn’t the case. He really only needed on potentially supernatural thing causing problems in his life at a time.

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merakiclosed · 4 years

Text

✞𝕹𝖊𝖜 𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖘✞

-Part of the ლ ℍ𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕕𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤 ლ

》Pairing: Demon!Lee Chan x Witch!Reader

》Summary: A baby witch summoning a baby demon

》Genre: Fluff, supernatural!au

》Word count: 560

》Notes/Warnings: Do not try this at home please. (I don’t need to be saying this but just in case.)

Masterlist is in my pinned post because Tumblr is being funny with links | All messages are open but requests are closed

✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞

“And finally light the many candles,” you mutter to yourself as the candles flicker on one by one. The only source of light is the several candles that are placed on top of the sigil of Saturn. A cemetery would have been better, but really, you don’t need to be there at 3 am alone. Yes, yes. You are a witch, but being alone when the zombies come out - you shudder at the thought. You’d rather not see limbs falling to the floor nor zombies trying to hit you up like the last. time.

Now, time for incantation. “Attenrobendum eos, ad consiendrum, ad ligandum eos, potiter et solvendum, et ad, congreguntum eos ‘coram me.”

Summoning isn’t what people normally believe, there is nothing too complicated because the whole point of summoning a demon is to get what you want, therefore there is no hard work. As many say, it’s the lazy person’s road to success. However, demons can be picky and can require a lot of preparation with certain ingredients and where they should be placed. There is nothing you really want with the demon, you’ve tried many times to summon one but it has never worked. All you want to do is prove to yourself, prove to everyone that you are a good witch.

It takes time before the candles flicker. Once. Twice. After the third time, nothing happens. You sigh, turning around to look back down at your book. Acacia? Check. Oil of Abramelin? Check.

This was a basic summoning, limited ingredients and one of the easiest incarnations to say. How did you mess up one of the simple ones? Dramatically, you throw yourself onto your bed, your body bouncing from the force.

The air shifts and static fills your room, the sigil lighting up before the whole bedroom is taken into darkness. Breathing in deeply, you don’t move as you swallow thickly. Was this supposed to happen? Were they angry at you?

The sigil flickers between a blinding white and blood-red flash, the oil spilling all over your wooden floor but that doesn’t concern you now as the flames from the candles grow bigger. Surely this wasn’t normal. The flashes from the sigil become brighter, your arms coming up to protect your eyes.

“Shit.” A voice calls out, the candles now lit normally.

“Sorry for that entrance, you can say that I’m -uh- not a pro at this.” he laughs shyly.

Lowering your arms, you find a young man around your age standing in front of you, one hand rubbing against the back of their hair. You’d say he looks like a normal young man, except the horns that sprout out from his head as well as his red eyes that stare at you. Neither of you say anything for a while before he coughs, awkwardly shuffling his feet side to side, “Uh. I know that doesn’t normally happen. Ya know? I was sort of supposed to just pop out I guess? But please don’t be scared.”

The shock from finally being able to do it properly renders you from saying anything, though he seems to be in his own head as he avoids your eyes and continues to ramble, “But of course, you’re probably not scared. Because -uh- ya know, y-you are the one that summoned -”

Your squeal of delight cuts him off as you jump off the bed and wrap your arms around him tightly. Finally. Finally, you summoned a demon.

Looking up, your eyes boring into his, you ask the most mundane question, “What’s your name?”

“Oh sorry, yeah. Totally. M-My names Chan.”

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normal-thoughts-official · 4 years

Note

Thoughts on mermaid Magnus au

my immediate thought is “magnus and maia brotp!” because like yeah? yeah? maia? marine biologist? magnus? mermaid? yeah? yeah? yeah! so like maia is this aspiring marine biologist who lives by the seaside and she’s always trying to figure out new ways to watch the ocean from afar, since she’s kind of scared of the ocean, you know, maybe especially because she’s a marine biologist and she knows all the weird stuff that lives in there.. anyway she eventually ends up seeing magnus because she was out there staring at the ocean wishing that she’d get to courage to at least snorkel dive or something and oops there is some guy coming out of the water and he DEFINITELY has a tail even if it transforms into legs when he’s on the ground or like smth idk and she’s like “what” and magnus is like “uh” and she’s like “uh” and they’re like “uh”

anyway cue magnus freaking out because obviously a mundane shouldn’t know about mermaids and what the hell does he DO now but maia is just like “wow. that would... solve a lot of my problems” and magnus is all confused and she explains to him that she loves the ocean and wants to be a biologist one day but she’s terrified of the sea, and magnus is like “ah. well. you have to be born a mermaid” and she chuckles like “bummer” and he’s like “...and you’re not freaking out about this”

so you know, she promises she won’t tell anyone and who would believe her anyway? and he ends up sitting down beside her and she asks questions about what living in the ocean is like and stuff and he answers and eventually the sun is going up and he goes “ah. better go back home while i won’t be seen” and she teases him that he’s not that good at not being seen

anyway! so the next night they see each other again and she asks him even more questions and he even like, brings some stuff for her to see and shows it to her? you know? and she’s super excited about it and it’s hella cute

and it goes on for like a week or so until one day magnus brings raphael with him (did you REALLY think i wouldn’t bring him into this) because before he wasn’t sure if he could trust maia but after a while has passed and she clearly hasn’t told a soul and is obviously just interested in seeing magnus’ aquatic friends and hearing his stories, he figures it’s safe to bring him too. he just wants to introduce his new friend to his boy and it’s cute

raphael is understandably a little scared because there magnus is, befriending mundanes, and they fucking know how dangerous that can be but magnus is a stubborn unstoppable asshole when he wants to so he figures it’s best if he knows about it than if he doesn’t. but him and maia get along fine. eventually he ends up pointing at the sky and he says “i’ve always been fascinated by that, you know?”

and maia is like “what?” and raphael is like “the stars. we grow up in the deep sea, so we don’t really see them. what you call the ‘sky’, to me, has always been the surface. but then when i broke out... there was more. this huge, untouchable thing, a surface over the surface. and it’s so beautiful” and maia pauses for a while and she’s like “you know, if you are willing to teach me what you know about the deep sea, i can teach you about the stars”

and magnus huffs like “and what do i get in return?” and she’s like “what do you want to learn about?” and he promptly goes, “the surface”

because magnus is a curious guy and he loves to learn and he’s always wanted to learn about the surface, but he only tried once and he was too scared that he would be found out, especially as he had no idea what mundane culture was like. and maia’s like well that’s easy to solve, i can show you around” and raphael is like no and magnus is like yes and maia is like yes and raphael is like then i’ll come too because he’s not letting magnus just wander around with mundanes

maia is like “it sounds like you are the papa bear in the relationship” and magnus is like “oh, don’t be mistaken my dear, if it were the other way around i wouldn’t let him” and raphael huffs but well, fine

so the following night they hang out some (i’m guessing maia has to bring them both clothes?) and maia shows magnus the town and magnus is in awe because wow there is so much stuff going on at nighttime. he never knew because the beach is relatively secluded, which is why he never expected to see maia there

the next night it’s raphael and maia’s turn to satisfy their curiosity so she teaches him the basics of the constellations and tells him a bit about astrology and like, a basic history of beliefs surrounding the stars and stuff like that. you know? Mundane Sky 101. in return raphael starts teaching her about the deep sea fishes and the mermaid’s knowledge of them as well. and they kinda bond because they are both fascinated by things that are out of their reach in many ways? and it’s like sweet and they smile at each other and stuff

then the next night it’s magnus’ turn, and it goes back and forth like this for a while. until one day magnus tells maia that he wants to visit during the day? see what it’s like and all. and she’s like well okay, i suppose you can... sleep at my place on friday and then we go out on saturday so i can have the day to show you around. and he’s like what is saturday. but they make a deal

raphael lowkey hates it during daytime because it’s so... bright and full of people (autistic raphael babey!) and noise and just, very different from what he’s used to, so he feels a little overwhelmed by it all. but magnus loves it. and it’s during one of their day adventures that magnus meets alec, because let’s be real, alec is just not a nighttime guy

and idk how exactly this would go but they hit it off and like you know. also at this point magnus knows quite a bit about mundane life so he can pretend swiftly and he’s always been smart and good at socializing so they’re like, on equal ground, just throwing this out there. and they get along well and soon magnus is flirting and, to raphael’s horror, alec is responding, so this is something that they all deal with now. magnus makes up something about being from the city and only coming on the weekends to explain why he isn’t around any other day and saturdays kind of become “magnus is going to see alec” time and raphael and maia are kind of just chilling on the corner of the cafe or something, talking

and there’s gonna be some coming out as a literal mermaid angst involved here but idk. maybe to be extra cliche alec goes visit maia saturday night and they get there just in time to see raphael and magnus going into the water and swimming away or something lmao. anyway alec is understandably shocked by the whole thing as his whole world has been tipped off its axis and he’s kind of freaking out but not because he’s like, afraid or something, just because it’s a lot to wrap his head around

so like idk the next morning alec waits for them at the beach with maia? or something? lmao and magnus almost has a panic attack but he tells him that he’s already seen and i guess from there alec becomes magnus’ guide to the mundane world? since he now officially knows. maia and raphael are not gonna leave the two of them together yet but now that he knows he has so many date ideas, things magnus has never seen before, you know. and magnus falls all that much harder because alec just... accepted that and wanted to show him things and it’s cute

and also maia and raphael get to spend more nights alone at the beach talking and looking at the stars and maybe raphael gets to show her things and it’s also cute. and they all fall in love and this is irrelevant but i love the mental image that magnus has a golden tail and raphael has a silvery tail, simply because the colors suit them respectively (even aesthetically, esp gold for magnus) and there is that whole... you know. gold and silver thing. idk i just love this

anyway magnus and alec start dating and so do maia and raphael and everyone is happy and cute and i guess magnus starts spending more and more time as a mundane and no idea how this would happen but fuck it lmao maybe maia and raphael study together and get into college and he gets to actually learn astronomy and she does groundbreaking research with maybe a little help as a marine biologist and idk what’s going on anymore this lore is a mess the end

#maia roberts #magnus bane #raphael santiago #alec lightwood #malec #maiaphael #shadowhunters #sh #ask #anonymous #au idea #long post #brotp: never trust a stingy warlock *gives u 100 dollars*#brotp: i'll do whatever it takes to protect them

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violetwolfraven · 4 years

Note

41 for javid would work so perfectly ahfkfjxhsga and/or 34, whichever one u want 🥺🥺🥺

I was scared to come out and ask you out because I didn’t know our entire friend group was gay but I definitely know now???

and

We broke up but I found the letters you wrote me before that and I still love you so wanna get back together? (did I copy this from one specific fic I read? Possibly.)

Ok! Buckle in your seatbelts, y’all! This is gonna be a MASSIVELY LONG THING! Also @61-flaming-sour-cherry-scones I love your url. Just getting that out there. Modern AU, btw. Also does this end in December, 2019, conveniently avoiding COVID? Possibly! :)

...

Jack didn’t mean to find that box, but in his defense, it was not hidden well. Just in the back of his closet, which he hadn’t cleaned out since... damn. Since the breakup.

And Jack was fine with said breakup, by the way. Him and Davey weren’t right together anymore.

And Jack didn’t smile less, or work himself harder as a distraction, or whatever bullshit his brothers, mom, and all his friends said.

If Davey never texted first anymore, or barely even talked when friends asked him to hang out or whatever, that was none of Jack’s business.

Jack had texted Davey exactly once since the breakup, because Elmer had told him that he had an anxiety attack in a bar, which he was only there in the first place because he was designated driver.

Davey had said he was fine, and that meant he was, right?

Davey had not mentioned anything about leaving a shoebox in Jack’s closet. As a matter of fact, he hadn’t mentioned it, ever.

Did it sting that Jack’s ex had kept a secret box of... something? from him? Maybe. Whatever the case, Jack was curious by nature, and he was definitely opening the box.

It was... letters? Sealed letters in envelopes, the earliest one on the very top, in one corner of the box. The only thing written on it was a date; September 7th, 2011.

That would be... 8th grade? Probably the first day of school? Jack was super confused. Still, he opened the letter.

Dear Jack Kelly,

I know this is terrible and corny and I’m probably going to shred this letter with the pocket knife Sarah got for our last birthday, but I had to write it down somewhere.

I think I’m gay. Specifically, gay for you. And I know that’s weird, I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re like the living personification of the moon. (Not the sun. I’ve never understood why people compare their crush to the sun. Nobody likes looking directly at that.) You saw me sitting alone before school and you took me in. I mean it. You brought me over to your friend group and said I was a new kid who was going to be your friend now, and the whole group just adopted me without questioning it. All of you are so nice. At first I thought it was a trick, but then I saw you comforting Blink when he had a panic attack. (Also, I’m still getting used to the nickname thing. That’s still weird and I’m not sure how I feel about the one you gave me.) You were so gentle with him, Jack. You knew exactly how to calm him down and you were so patient with him while you helped Mush drive the fear away. I didn’t think boys our age knew how to be like that. I do now, because of you. Well, and because of Race being, well, Race. I don’t think anyone could mistake him for a bully. Or Crutchie. Or Romeo. Heck, most of your group is just so nice I can barely believe it. I think I’ll bring Saz to meet you tomorrow. She already made a friend, but she said that this girl, Katherine, said she already knows you. Maybe we can all be friends.

I really wish we could be more, but I know that would never work. I can’t tell anyone I’m gay. You’d think I’m a freak. But since you’ll never read this, I can admit it here: I have a massive crush on you, Jack Kelly.

Sincerely, David Davey

Jack was not going to let himself cry about a letter written in 8th fucking grade. He was, however, very confused about why it was in his closet.

A letter from before Davey was out of the closet found in the closet. If Jack wasn’t so goddamn depressed, he would appreciate the irony.

The next letter was dated: September 24th, 2011.

Dear Jack,

We’re all friends now. Gotta say, I already can’t imagine my life without you and the other guys. And maybe I didn’t meet Kath that first day, but she’s probably my best friend, besides you, of course. She’s the only other one with brain cells, besides maybe Specs. Us three had to talk you and the others out of riding a shopping cart Albert stole from Walmart down a hill yesterday. Honestly, would it kill you to be a little smarter? I know for a fact you can be, Jack Kelly. You and the others actually have a fair amount of brain cells each when apart. It’s only when the only group gets together that you all do stupid stuff.

I didn’t shred the first letter. I think maybe I’ll keep these and we can look back someday and laugh about me having a crush on you in middle school. Don’t worry. I’ll find a way to get over it before it ruins our friendship.

I honestly don’t see how I’d survive losing you, Jack. So, please, do me a favor and keep being oblivious to how I really feel about you until I digest those butterflies you give me.

Sincerely, Davey

Damn. Reading that was like a punch to the chest and Jack had to take a deep breath before moving on to the next letter.

The next few were just mundane stuff. Little notes on how Jack laughed or interacted with certain friends or whatever. The way he painted each friend something little for the holidays and how they all had a picnic potluck for Thanksgiving.

Then he got to one that was different: January 22nd, 2012. It was written in a panicked, hurried script.

Oh, damn. Jack remembered what this was about. What happened January of 8th grade.

Dear Jack,

Something’s wrong. You’re on my couch right now, crying. I don’t know what’s going on, but you’re trying to put on a brave face for Les and failing miserably. Medda didn’t have time to say much when she dropped you, Crutchie, Race, and Romeo off, so all I really know is that Blink is in the hospital and she’s gonna pick up Mush before going to see him. Crutchie is trying to comfort you, by the way, but he’s crying nearly as much as you are. Race and Ro are in shock, I think. They haven’t said much. Sarah’s making them hot cocoa. I’m in my room, writing this really quick because I don’t know what I can do. You’re so good at comforting people, but I don’t know how. I wish I knew how you did it. I think I’ll go try one of the things I’ve seen you do with panic attacks. It’s got to be better than nothing.

The rest was calmer, clearly written later.

It turns out Blink is in the hospital because his dad put him there. And he wouldn’t be alive at all if he didn’t call Mush in a panic right when he heard him get home. Mush called the cops and they barely got there in time. Blink was already half-dead when they did, but they managed to keep him alive long enough to get an ambulance. God, I don’t want to think about what would’ve happened if they’d been just a little bit slower.

Medda called you a couple hours ago to let us all know that Blink is in bad shape, but he’s gonna be okay. She’s gonna try to file for custody of him, but Mush’s mom is gonna try, too, just to give him twice as much chance of staying with us. His dad is in jail, but you and me agree that he deserves to die for what he did. In the selfie Blink made Mush send the group chat, there was more bandage visible on his face than skin. It made me so damn angry, but I didn’t show it because you were so angry you almost punched a hole in my wall.

I’ve made a decision, Jack. I can’t be separate from the group anymore. I always hang with Kath off to the side where we can intervene as the voices of reason if needed, but I’m not going to do that anymore, because I. can. not. do this again. I want our friends to trust me like they trust you so maybe if one of them is in a house with a dad that would beat them within an inch of their life, they’ll tell me and I can get them out.

I guess that means I’ll have to get better at lying. I’ve been staying separate mostly to hide my crush. And I think I’m pretty good at that, but being right at the center of things, with you? I’ll have to be careful to make sure no one notices. Especially not you. I hope I can pull it off.

You definitely aren’t making it easy on me, are you? You’re passed out in my bed, for heaven’s sake. But it’s fine. This is fine. I’m fine.

Sincerely, Davey

Jack remembered that night as one of the worst of his life. He’d thought Blink was dead by how Mush sounded when he called. And even though it turned out he wasn’t, he was going to be okay even if he lost an eye, after Jack’s childhood, he’d always hated when he couldn’t protect the people he loved.

Davey had been the one to reach him in that bad place he fell back to, the one where people he loved, kids he considered his little brothers, were getting hurt. Davey had pulled him out of there, and though it would take Jack months to realize it, that was the day he started to fall in love with him.

The next Monday, though, Jack had tried to give him space. Knowing how intimidating it all had to seem, he wasn’t sure if Davey would bail on them.

But he didn’t. Jack had never stopped appreciating how Davey had seen the darkness under the innocent, normal friendship and stayed anyway.

The next few letters were mostly a lot of pining on Davey’s side as he struggled to integrate himself more deeply into the group.

Jack still remembered that shift, how once Davey earned the others’ trust, Jack had gone from being the only one everyone was relying on to half of a pair that a lot of their friends had jokingly called ‘mom and dad.’

It was kind of sad, knowing that for most of them, Jack and Davey gave them more love and attention than their actual parents did, but the two of them would have to do—and they had. For a long time, the two of them were an unstoppable duo of hugs and snacks and homework help.

The letter from June 15th, 2012, had weird spots on it, almost like... almost like tear-marks. It was shorter than the previous ones.

Dear Jack,

Saz just came bouncing into my room to announce that she’s going with you to the Eighth Grade Dance.

I don’t know why I’m sad about it. I knew you and me would never be a thing.

But it still hurts, Jackie. It hurts so much.

I’m going with the rest of the group, just as friends. No one has dates except you, and I think maybe Romeo.

Jack knew for a fact that Blink and Mush had gone together because he remembered accidentally walking in on their first kiss, but apparently, Davey hadn’t known that.

Les is knocking on my door, so I’m gonna have to drop my math textbook on the floor really loudly so I can tell him I’m crying because I fell.

Sincerely, Davey

There wasn’t another letter until 4 months later, Octobe 16th, 2012.

Dear Jack,

So. Something weird just happened. Saz just came into my room and said she’s not going with you to Homecoming because you’re going with Kath. I tried to comfort her, but she didn’t seem sad about it?

She asked me if I wanted to go with anyone and seemed surprised I said I didn’t. (Not like I’m telling her a part of me wishes I could go with you.) Then she mentioned that Blink and Mush are going together, and I don’t see why she cares because if you don’t have a date why not go with a friend, right? Why do girls have to be so confusing?

Sincerely, Davey

Oh. Oh, God.

By the beginning of freshman year, Blink and Mush hadn’t been the only gay couple in their friend group.

Albert and Finch had gotten together over the summer, and so had Smalls and Sniper.

Romeo and Specs were in the ‘flirting terribly’ phase, and though Jack didn’t know it at the time, Race was already sneaking around with Spot by that point.

Ike had asked Hotshot to that Homecoming, though they wouldn’t officially become boyfriends until almost a year later, Buttons and Elmer became official at that dance, and Jojo and Mike had that falling out because of misread signals towards the end of it.

Hell, Jack only went to that dance with Kath because she couldn’t let her parents know she was actually going with Saz.

Homecoming freshman year was... eventful, to say the least.

And Davey had known exactly none of this. That... explained a lot.

Being only freshmen, none of the couples were exactly casual in their relationships. They didn’t kiss in front of people, and a few were too embarrassed to so much as sit next to each other at lunch. With the ones who weren’t embarrassed, it still honestly wasn’t much more than the affection they all already showed among friends.

God, if Jack had known how scared Davey was to come out, as he said in the next few letters, he would have... what? Told him he loved him right then and there? Probably not, but he would have done something differently.

The next really significant letter was dated December 11th 12th, 2012.

Dear Jack,

I have no idea what to think.

I’m in the bathroom right now, and it’s just after midnight on 12/12/12. You and your brothers threw a party in case the world ended with the whole friend group. It was kind of like a New Year’s party, but with a lot more cynical talk about the coming apocalypse and bet placing on what said apocalypse would be. Towards the end, we all got caught up in the drama and sleep-deprivation and started giving speeches about how much we loved each other. It was cringy, but in a good way? I’m sure we’ll laugh about it someday.

Or maybe we won’t. Because I have no idea what to think anymore.

Oh, shit. This was the part Jack was kind of dreading reading.

I’ve been terrified to come out because I thought I’d get kicked out of the group if you guys knew I was gay.

Which was why it was such a shock when the countdown to midnight ended and half my friends kissed friends of the same gender.

Jack remembered yelling at them to break it up. He’d been so busy being exasperated with his kids that he hadn’t even noticed Davey had slipped away until Crutchie pointed it out.

It was quick, so I don’t think I could name all the pairs if I tried, but I definitely saw Sarah kiss Kath, which, honestly, explains a lot.

I can’t help but wonder... Why didn’t anyone tell me? How long has this been going on? Has it been since the beginning and I was just too oblivious to see it?

Oh my God. Now that I’m looking for it, I can’t stop seeing it. The way Blink is defensive and angry all the time and he’s soft for Mush. The way Sarah hates spending time on her hair and she’ll sit for hours letting Kath try out styles on her. The way Buttons and Elmer just do little things for each other every day. None of them are subtle and I am an idiot.

Jack had to laugh at that.

Does this mean I should come out, too? I know now no one would judge me for it, but... I don’t want to mess things up. I love our friends, and I don’t want to lose them. If I lost them, now, it would be because I like you, specifically. Would you be disgusted with me if I told you?

“No,” Jack whispered, before remembering that this was 14-year-old Davey, and he wasn’t here.

I like to think you wouldn’t be, but I can’t risk it. If I lose you, I lose all of them. And if I have doubts about if I could live through losing you, I definitely can’t survive losing everyone. I love them all so much. I love you.

Jack sucked in a breath. As far as he knew, this was the first time Davey had ever said anywhere that he loved Jack.

But I can’t tell you that. So if I come out, it definitely won’t be by saying who I like.

Love, Davey

Jack totally wasn’t crying as he reached for the next letter. It was just current events, random stuff. There were certainly a lot of letters, weren’t there? Davey had documented everything, from Jack attempting to teach him to draw, to the time they both auditioned for the school play, to that time they had to talk Jojo off a ledge when he realized he loved Mike. That one was short but bad. (Honestly, Jack still hated Jojo’s super religious parents for that. Fuck Jojo’s parents.)

Davey did come out in a letter from almost six months later, but it wasn’t until Homecoming sophomore year that things started getting really interesting.

Dear Jack,

I honestly might never talk to you again outside these letters. Sarah’s banging on my door telling me to, and I’m quoting her here, “open the fuck up, David Jacobs.” Mom’s yelling back at her to watch her language. They’re now having a screamed bitching match in the hallway.

Long story short, we were at Homecoming and you asked me to dance. My brain kind of short-circuited, but I said yes right as a slow song came on. Shockingly, you didn’t seem to mind, and you danced with me to Photograph by Ed Sheeran.

Oh, God, Jack remembered that song. It had been their song. He still couldn’t listen to it anymore.

You were singing along to it and smiling at me. It was really sweet, and it was kind of my dream, to be honest, and I guess I lost all control of my body for a second because I kissed you during the last chorus and I didn’t stop kissing you until the end of the song.

Jack remembered that like it was yesterday, because it was their first kiss. It was a million perfect colors exploding across Jack’s brain and feelings he could barely identify swirling into a moment more beautiful than any painting he could ever create.

Then a faster song came on and I don’t know if anyone saw, but I really hope they didn’t because if they did that means they saw what happened next. Which is: I ran away. I ran all the way to my car and drove home and locked myself in my room. Sarah came home not 5 minutes later, so I think she knows, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t know how I can face you after this. In hindsight I think you were kissing me back, and if you were that means I just ran out on you and it probably hurt when I did. If not, that’s even worse because I kissed you and you probably just didn’t pull away out of pity.

Holy shit, I think you’re here, now. I can hear you outside my door with Saz, and maybe Kath, too. She’s trying to calm her down, which, honestly, good luck, Kath. Wait. No. Shit. I guess being her girlfriend has its benefits. It’s just you, now. You’re talking really softly, but I can’t understand you through the door. This is why we enunciate, Jackie.

Jack rolled his eyes on reflex.

I’m still pretty scared, but I think I’m gonna open the door. Scratch that, I’m definitely gonna open it. If you yell at me, I’ll probably yell right back. Funny, isn’t it? How I never would have done that before meeting you? If we have a huge fight, remember that you’re the one who taught me not to censor myself. David never would have even opened that door, but Davey is your monster. Good luck. I’ve out-argued you before, Jackie, so you’ll need it.

I should stop stalling and open the damn door.

If you break my heart, Jack Kelly, I’m going to kill you.

Love, Davey

Reading that last sentance, Jack froze.

If you break my heart, Jack Kelly, I’m going to kill you.

Time was a bitch, because by all accounts, they were both broken-hearted, now.

Jack wiped away his tears and realized there was a little bit more writing.

P.S. I guess you get to live, Jackie, because we had a talk and you kissed me again and now we’re together. Like, boyfriends. I can’t stop smiling. It’s stupid. I’m probably not going to sleep tonight and it’s all your fault because my stomach is full of butterflies and I can’t stop thinking about how much I love you.

Jack didn’t let himself process that, going for the next letter instead.

Oh, shit. November 1st, 2013. This was going to be a bad one. Still, Jack took a deep breath and started reading.

Dear Jack,

Well, today was emotionally draining. (Halloween was fun, but what came after definitely is not.) It’s already past midnight, but it’s okay because I’m sleeping over at your house tonight. After Saz and I explained the situation, Mom and Dad agreed we should. God, said situation it makes me so angry.

Katherine’s parents kicked her out. They found out about her and Sarah, made her pack a bag, and tossed her away like she was nothing.

She’s 16. She’s a goddamn child like the rest of us. How could they do that to her? I guess it’s good she’s out of that environment, where she has to hide who she is and walk on eggshells with every conversation, but she’s on your couch right now, crying so hard she can’t even drink the tea Medda made her. Sarah and you are trying to calm her down, but I hate seeing her like this. Kath always seems kind of unshakable, like nothing anyone says will get to her. I’ve never seen her this broken. Judging by the look you’re giving me from across the room, you haven’t, either.

You think I’m making a grocery list. Medda told me to, seeing as how she’s busy helping clean out your guest room, Saz is on ‘shoulder to cry on’ duty, and I’m the only boy who lives with a girl. Kath didn’t get to pack much more than a couple of outfits and her toothbrush.

You know what? Fuck it. You and me are her parents, now. You’re good with that, right? We’re already stand-in Mom and Dad for several of our friends—what’s one more? Ha ha, you and me have so much practice already that we are going to be great parents for real one day.

Jack sucked in a breath. Real parents? As in, the two of them staying together long enough to have kids?

Wow. That is wildly inappropriate to think about when we’re literally a couple of 15-year-olds. Also, it makes me think about how Kath is technically a few months older, but whatever. I guess I should actually make that grocery list, now, and stop daydreaming about a hypothetical future while one of our kids now is sobbing across the room from me.

Love, Davey

Davey had never even told Jack he wanted kids.

Sure, they were both a little young for that, but in the future..? Jack had always been scared that he wouldn’t be a good dad, after never having a good dad, himself, but sophomore year Davey was right. He had gotten a fair amount of practice with his friends.

That night, when Kath showed up at the Larkin house, crying so hysterically the makeup from her Halloween costume was running and saying she didn’t know where else to go, Davey was the first person Jack called. Him and Sarah had shown up not fifteen minutes later, probably having been lucky not to pick up a speeding ticket (or you know, gotten arrested for underage driving without an adult) on the way.

15-year-old Davey was right. That night was the most broken Jack had ever seen Katherine. Even if it had worked out okay in the end, with Kath staying with them and being their new sister in every way but on paper, Jack still kind of wanted to throat-punch her parents.

It was... oddly comforting, to know that Davey felt the same. He hadn’t shown it back then, knowing Kath needed him calm, but... to be honest, Jack would have feared an angry Davey Jacobs more than an angry Jack Kelly. You’d get punched by an angry Jack, but an angry Davey? He was smart enough to burn down your world. Jack smirked, thinking about how lucky the Pulitzers were that Davey possessed impulse control.

Most of the rest of the letters were just Davey talking about their relationship as it evolved or recounting whatever drama happened to be going on, (with one in the middle of junior year that was basically just ‘wtf Race is secretly dating Spot Conlon???’) because as the only group of out gays in the school, a few of whom happened to be in not-so-good homes, there was always drama.

Then came the stress of senior year, SATs, and college applications. Davey and Jack had a few fights, which were all well documented here. 17-year-old Jack and Davey hadn’t known that those fights were the beginning of the end.

The letter dated June 5th, 2016 was the one that finally made Jack cry for real .

Dear Jack,

We’re fighting again. We have before, but this time, it’s actually serious.

I get that you’re going to school in Santa Fe and I’m staying in New York. What—did you expect me to follow you all the way across the country? I’m not asking you to stay, because that wouldn’t be fair of me. You’ve got dreams and a scholarship to an art school and that is great. I’m happy for you. But I’m not going with you, because why would I? I’ve got dreams, too. Did you think I would put my life on hold for you?

We can’t stay kids forever, Jackie. Growing up means things change. I thought you knew that. Our friends are spreading out across the country and most of the couples aren’t going to be in the same state. Hell, Specs is going to Harvard in Massachusetts and Romeo is moving to Hollywood to go try his luck and they’re not having problems. If your own brother can do the long-distance thing, why can’t you?

I’m scared, too. I don’t want to lose you, either. I know doing a long-distance thing won’t be easy, but when was the last time either of us gave up just because it was hard? Jackie, if I wanted something easy, I would have bailed after we almost lost Blink. My love for you aside, I didn’t because that’s. not. me. I fight for what I love. And I know you do, too, so... so fight for me. I need to know you love me enough to fight for me, Jackie.

I know you. When you want something—really want it, there is not a force in this world that can stop you from fighting for it. I love you, Jack Kelly. I’m not going to stop fighting for you, so please don’t stop fighting for me.

Love, Davey

Jack choked on a sob. He’d failed. Davey had asked him to fight for him and he failed.

Sure, he hadn’t known that Davey wanted him to fight for him, but... God, if he had...

Jack would have fought, would have walked through hell, would have done anything to keep Davey by his side.

He still loved Davey, no matter what he’d been telling himself since the breakup, and... And he needed to read the rest of these letters. Even if Davey started hating him when the fighting got really bad or wrote about what he was feeling during it.

Shit. There weren’t that many more. The remaining letters were spread out somewhere between high school graduation and when Jack and Davey broke up; a year and a half ago, and... and those would probably be the hardest ones to read

Jack waited a bit until the tears had stopped before opening the one from November 20th, 2016.

Dear Jack,

I haven’t wrote one of these in a while. College has been a bitch, but also...

You and me barely talk anymore. We text each other memes about once a week, (don’t worry. you still know exactly how to make me laugh with those dumb little shitposts.) but we don’t really talk. I can’t remember the last time we FaceTimed. I miss you, but I don’t know how to say it anymore.

I’m thinking about this because it’s Thanksgiving break. Of course, it’s good to see everyone. Kath got home this morning. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed her. Elmer texted me a couple minutes ago that he’s an hour away. Of course that dumbass is driving all the way from Michigan. I’m sure we’ll both have more than enough words for him when you get back because you’re flying in tonight.

I don’t know how I feel about that. I should be excited, but... I don’t think I’ve been this nervous about anything involving you since I ran away after our first kiss. I think I preferred it last year, when we were fighting, because even when we were pissed at each other, at least we were communicating.

You remember when we were kids and you always knew exactly what to say exactly when someone needed to hear it? How you helped calm down Kath when she got kicked out, talked Jojo off a roof, and convinced Spot to tell Race he loved him? It was amazing. I never quite mastered that. I usually know what to do, just never how to voice it. But this time, I don’t even know what to do. We’re not on the same page anymore. I don’t think we’re even in the same book.

Jack took a shaky breath. He and Davey hadn’t been on the same page. And Jack definitely hadn’t known what to say to him, either. They weren’t the unstoppable duo they’d been in high school.

But... damn. Those things Davey had mentioned him doing? He couldn’t have done those alone. For all of those, he had needed Davey there, helping him. Maybe that was why it was so hard, being there for anyone since the breakup.

I hate how five years of being an unstoppable duo can be undone in only four months, and it wasn’t even by fighting. If it was a fight, we could solve it, you and me vs. the problem. But there’s no fight, no problem. It’s just you and me and the growing chasm between us.

You know what? It’s probably just the distance messing with us. We’ll be fine. We just need some time together. Thanksgiving will be good for us. And I’m flying out to Santa Fe for the winter holidays to spend it with you, so that’ll be good, too.

I’m gonna text you right now. Your flight probably won’t be leaving for another hour or so, so we can talk. Get back in rhythm.

I still don’t know what to say. I guess I’ll just ask about how hot Santa Fe is in winter and we can go from there. Here’s hoping this makes things get less awkward.

Love, Davey

Jack remembered that text conversation with Davey in the airport. He remembered how much hope it had given him, and how after Jack went back to Santa Fe when the holiday was over, how much better Davey and him had been. That Christmas/Hanukkah had been great, especially considering most of Jack’s classmates were at home and they’d had the dorm to themselves.

Of course their friends and families had known that was why Jack didn’t come home that year, and he distinctly remembered getting texts from all three of his brothers on Christmas morning asking if Davey was good in bed, but that was besides the point.

The next several letters were from their second wind, the rest of the school year. And yeah, they were hard to read, but they brought back happy memories. Even only seeing each other over breaks and computer screens, it seemed that Davey was happy, too. For a while, it had seemed that Jack could have his dreams of art school in Santa Fe and the love of his life.

Then, of course, during that summer of staying together at whichever house more often than not, they started fighting again. Over nothing. Over stupid things. Over who loaded the dishwasher wrong and who said he was going to pick Les up from his friend’s house.

Then they started fighting over big things. Over harsh words Jack never meant and judging by these letters, Davey didn’t meant, either.

August 2nd, 2017:

Dear Jack,

I fucked up. We just had a big fight, I said a bunch of things I didn’t mean, and like an idiot, I let you leave for the airport without apologizing. Now, you’re acting like your phone is already on airplane mode even though I know for a fact your flight doesn’t leave for another hour. Also, I can see that you’ve read all of my texts, you moron, so I know you’re just ignoring me.

Aw, hell, I don’t even blame you. I said some really bad things. I said you love your art more than me, and I know that’s not true. I know you’d never prioritize material things over the people you love, because Jackie, you prioritize those people who have earned your loyalty over everything, including your own mental and physical health. I know because it annoys the hell out of me, how you never give yourself a break. They’re all adults now, Jackie. They don’t need us as much anymore and you never stop acting like they do.

I shouldn’t be angry with you for that. I know with your childhood, trying to protect Crutchie, Race, and Romeo and sometimes failing, you still feel like you have to save everyone. It’s how you’re wired and I love that about you. I wouldn’t change it if I could. I just wish you’d stop running yourself into the ground to do it.

Is this it? I already feel like we’re on borrowed time, here. Sarah says she thought we were going to break up last year. Kath says she’s sure it’s not that bad. (they’re talking about it very loudly in the hallway. or maybe they’re arguing. who knows?) Les just said that my mom said nobody marries their high school sweetheart. (thanks, Mom.)

I think even if we never said it, that’s what we were both hoping for. I know you, Jackie. I’ve watched your favorite romcoms and Disney movies. I know you want the perfect fairytale relationship with the whole package of ‘and they get married and have kids and live happily ever after.’ And I want that, too. I really wanted it with you. Ugh! I still want it with you! I can’t imagine any alternate universe where I don’t want that with you!

It’s probably inappropriate to think about all that. We’re nineteen. We’re not even old enough to drink yet and we’re definitely too young for me to be thinking about marrying you.

Jack inhaled sharply. Oh, God. He was going to cry again.

But for the record... I do want to. I want everything with you and I cannot imagine any circumstance, any extreme, any bad breakup where I stop wanting that.

Just to be safe, though, in case something I can’t foresee happens and I never say it again...

I love you, Jack Kelly. I have loved you from the first day I met you and I can’t see anything happening in any version of reality that makes me stop loving you. You’re still like the living personification of the moon to me and no matter how much you piss me off, Jackie, your glow doesn’t fade. You shined a light on the parts of me afraid of judgement and taught me to shine, too, despite them.

I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you and I probably never will. I just need you to know that.

Love, Davey

Jack was already crying, but he panicked as he realized there was only two more letters.

A part of him wanted to wait. These were words Davey hadn’t spoken to him. These were the last pieces of Davey that were still Jack’s.

But he needed to know. Were these letters from before they actually broke up? After? Had Davey been wrong in the previous letter and he’d stoped loving Jack?

There were no dates on the envelopes. Still, Jack had to know. He took a deep breath and opened the second-to-last one, the paper covered in old, dried tear marks.

Dear Jack,

We had another stupid fight and we tried to fix it but that just ended in more yelling. That’s happened a few times before, now, but this time, it was different.

Oh, no. This must be from the big one Spring Break of their sophomore year of college.

Jack had come home for the break, it had been great to see his friends, but then he and Davey had started fighting. Like, really fighting. Worse than they ever had before.

And then there was the big one. It was two days before Jack flew back to Santa Fe. It was the one where they actually broke up.

This time, you told me to leave. And I kind of yelled at you to just go back to Santa Fe as you shoved me out the door. Then you yelled that if I wanted you to fly away so badly, I shouldn’t bother visiting again and you slammed the door in my face.

I think we just broke up. I’d be angry about it if I wasn’t so damn sad.

God, this is messed up. I know you’re alone on your bed with those stupid Star Wars sheets you’ve had since you were twelve and you locked the door because you don’t want anyone to see you cry. Thinking about that makes me want to run right back there and say I’m sorry.

I wanted to do that the second I got back to my parents’ house, but they convinced me not to. Sarah yelled at them for it. She said I had to make my own decision. They said I’m too emotional to think clearly. They’re right, of course, which is why I’m here writing this and not on my way back to your mom’s house already.

Now, Les is the only one outside my door. Are Crutchie, Race, Romeo, or Kath outside yours? Les is trying to guilt me into opening the door by telling me he cancelled a date for me. I’m not weirded out at all by the fact that my baby brother has way more game than I did when I was fourteen.

Are we really done, Jackie? For good? I keep waiting to hear you out in the hallway. And probably Kath, because she’s a better driver than you. I can’t keep thinking about this. I’m just gonna to go to sleep.

Davey

Jack wiped his eyes furiously. There was one more letter and he needed to read it, consequences be damned.

This last letter was probably from when Davey cooled down. Maybe the next morning or something. If he didn’t hate Jack while he was emotional and raw from the initial breakup, he might in this letter. But Jack opened it, anyway.

My Dearest Jack,

We really are broken up. You haven’t called me, but I got a very angry text-rant from Crutchie (for which he apologized 10 minutes later) which basically boiled down to him saying I broke your heart. Romeo called me, said ‘dude, not cool,’ then hung up. Race and Medda seem to be trying to see both sides, and though Kath did tell me that the last few months have been like ‘listening to mom and dad fight downstairs,’ she’s not offering any advice. I think she and Sarah are waiting for me to come to them.

I’m so sorry, Jackie. I know this is mostly my fault. Still, I can’t make the first move. Don’t forget: I know you. You’re more concerned with other people’s feelings than yours, so if I ask you to take me back and you do it, I can’t be sure you didn’t just do it for me. If we ever get back together, it has to be because you want it, too. However, I know you won’t even consider we could get back together unless I give you a sign, which is why I’m leaving you my letters.

You went back to Santa Fe two weeks ago and I’m finally stable enough to come get my stuff from your house and drop off what little you left in my room. While I’m there, I’m gonna hide this somewhere. I guess we’ll both have to pray no one else in your family finds it. That would be awkward.

When you find this, I want you to think long and hard about what you want, Jackie. I want you to make a decision for you. Goddammit, think about yourself first for once.

If you fight for me, I want you to do it because it’s what you really want. That fairytale romcom ending with me is still yours if you play your cards right. (Don’t think I forgot all the hurtful things you said to me, even if I’m 70% sure you didn’t mean them.) It might take... I dunno, therapy or something, but I still think we can fix this. It won’t be easy, but neither is love. Neither is our entire messed-up, broken group of friends.

I used to think I’d lose all of them if I lost you. Maybe I would have, if I’d messed up like this in 8th grade. But now, I know I won’t, because they’re all blowing up my phone as much as I’m sure they’re blowing up yours, asking if I’m okay. I see now that they need me as much as I need them. And they still need you, too, even if you do need to accept a little more that we’re all grown-ups now.

Where was I going with this? I had a point.

I guess all there’s left to say is that if you still want that perfect ending with me—getting married and having kids and having them call all our friends ‘auntie’ and ‘uncle’—fight for it. Loving someone the way I’m in love with you doesn’t happen twice, so I’m not going anywhere. You know where to find me.

You probably won’t find this for a while. Hell, you’re not even coming home again until summer break. But that’s probably a good thing. It gives us both some time to cool off and think.

So think, Jackie. Think long and hard and make a choice. Fight for me or don’t. In case I never get a chance to say it in person again...

I love you, Jack Kelly.

Love, Davey

Oh shit.

Davey left this in Jack’s closet a year and a half ago. He’d probably expected Jack to find it that summer. In fact, he probably thought Jack had found it and just decided not to fight for him.

Jack still wanted to fight for him. He had no doubts about that.

But did his have to discover this box now? When he was leaving for Santa Fe to finish his senior year tomorrow?

Fuck it. Even if it had been almost two years, even if there was a high chance Davey wasn’t waiting for him anymore, he still had to do this

Driving to the Jacobs house right then and there was probably the stupidest thing Jack had ever done, and that was including riding that Walmart shopping cart Albert stole down a hill in 8th grade with Race, Romeo, and Albert when Davey, Kath, and Specs weren’t there to stop them.

Sarah was the one who opened the door, and she... Jack hadn’t talked to Saz since the breakup, since she’d been staying mad at him out of solidarity. Honestly, he was now realizing that he’d missed her nearly as much as he’d missed Davey. They’d been good friends, once upon a time.

Now, she glared at him, “The fuck are you doing here, Kelly?”

“I...” Jack honestly couldn’t think of a good way to explain this, “Is he home?”

Sarah snorted, “What? After a year and a half, you’ve finally come to your senses and realized you’ll never find another one like my brother?”

“I never planned on anyone like him in the first place,” Jack snapped, “Davey was always... even back in middle school... You think I’d ever believe I could find someone else like that? I’m dumb, Saz, but I ain’t stupid. I always knew I was givin’ up on forever when I didn’t try to get him back, but... but I thought he didn’t want me anymore.”

Sarah froze, then leaned against the doorframe, laughing kind of hopelessly, “You are stupid, Jack Kelly, if you think my brother wasn’t totally gone for you and totally broken-hearted when you didn’t try to fight for him.”

Jack definitely had an oh shit moment, “Wait, do you know? About the..?”

“The box of letters he left you? Yeah. He told me last year, after you left for junior year without coming for him.”

Jack took the last letter out of his pocket, “I just found it.”

Saz took a second to process that before motioning for Jack to come in, shouting up the stairs, “Davey! Get your butt down here!”

Les, sitting at the kitchen table, looked up from his sandwich, “Holy shit. Jack?”

“Hi, kid,” Jack said, trying not to be weirded out by how the now-16-year-old was taller than him.

“Davey?” Sarah yelled again, clearly impatient.

“Alright, alright! God, Saz, what couldn’t wait 10 se—“ That was when Davey looked up, seeing Jack in his kitchen.

“That couldn’t wait,” Sarah said pointedly, “Les, let’s go... not be here.”

“If I eat in my room, Mom’ll kill me,” Les said, picking up his sandwich, anyway.

“Eat in my room, then.”

Jack and Davey were silent until the other two Jacobs siblings were upstairs.

“Why are you here, Jack?”

Jack had to take a deep breath before he responded, “When was the last time you went somewhere besides school if somebody didn’t drag you out of the house?”

“What?”

“Do the people who love you say you’ve changed? Do they keep saying they need a designated driver only to try to get you drinking and dancing like it’ll make you smile?”

“What are you—“

“Are there songs you can’t listen to? Movies you can’t watch? Have you so much as called someone back when they gave you their number?”

“Jack,” Davey looked at the ceiling, “What’s this about?”

“You once said you wouldn’t put your life on hold for me,” Jack said, “And you were right not to. I can be overprotective, sometimes. No one should put their dreams on hold because of a lover, but... my dreams are the only thing I haven’t put on hold, Dave. I ain’t been living since I lost you. Not really. And when our friends all said I was smilin’ less, I never let myself think about it, because if I did, I’d have to think about how much I was still hurtin’ over you.”

Davey laughed sady, “Jack, if you really wanted me, you would have fought for me a long time ago, so—“

“You’re talkin’ about the letters?” Jack asked, holding up the one he had on him, “Davey... I just found them. Today.”

Davey was silent, his face completely unreadable. Jack was holding his breath.

“Jack Kelly,” he finally smiled, “I should have known you would take this long to clean out your damn closet.”

“I think you spent enough time in the closet for the both of us.” Jack joked.

Davey rolled his eyes, “Very funny, Jackie. Anyway... I don’t think it’s any secret that we can’t just pick up where we left off.”

“Of course not.”

“So... coffee? If we’re trying again, I’d prefer to take things slow.”

Jack nodded, “Probably a good thing I’m going back to Santa Fe after tomorrow. That ain’t enough time for us to do something we’ll regret.”

“Yeah, I guess mostly just texting is one way to take it slow... speaking of which, one of us should probably text the group chat.”

“Oh yeah,” Jack grinned, “They’re gonna freak.”

#newsies #javid #javey #jack kelly #davey jacobs #jack and davey are the mom and dad friends #sarah jacobs #katherine plumber #background newsbians #background blush #background spromeo #background belmerttons #slight angst #violet’s writing

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