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cdelphiki · 3 years

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Kid Jason and Bruce bonding over cars, 5k words of fluff, no archive warnings apply.

“Good morning, lad,” Alfred said, one Saturday morning just as Jason stepped into the kitchen, “What would you like for breakfast?”

He’d skipped ‘family’ breakfast in favor of sleeping in, which Alfred had said multiple times was perfectly acceptable. He was 12, after all, and needed his sleep.

With a smile, Jason started crossing the kitchen, over to the pantry, as he said, “Hi, Alfred. I was just gonna get some cereal.”

“Then help yourself, lad.”

Despite saying ‘help yourself,’ Alfred both got him a bowl and the milk out, but otherwise let Jason pour himself the cereal. He then traded Jason the milk for a spoon before going back to whatever he was preparing before. Kinda looked like bread. He was kneading dough, whatever it was.

“What’s Bruce doing in the garage?” Jason asked, after he’d watched Alfred for a few minutes and got through half his bowl of cereal.

Alfred rolled the dough up into a loaf shape and dropped it down into a glass pan as he said, “Why don’t you go see for yourself?”

He didn’t even look over, but Alfred must have heard Jason frown, or something, because he then asked, “You like cars, don’t you?”

“Well yeah,” Jason stammered. He did like cars, but why did that mean he had to go ask Bruce what he was doing? “I just don’t want to bother him.”

Bruce was obviously doing work or something. He had spent almost the whole week working, and then had to take Jason out yesterday, so he probably had stuff he had to get done around the house, right? With… the tools.

“You won’t be bothering him,” Alfred said, like he thought it was impossible for Jason to bother Bruce, “I’m sure he will be more than happy to tell you about the work he’s doing on his cars.”

So he was doing work then.

Just… on his cars…

Jason looked down into his bowl and scooped out his last bite of cereal, contemplating whether he would go bother Bruce.

On the one hand, Bruce had said he would show Jason his cars if he just asked.

But on the other… he didn’t know. Things were good with Bruce so far, he was kind of scared if he bothered Bruce too much, he’d ruin it.

But as soon as Jason set his bowl back down, after finishing off the milk, Alfred walked over and took it, saying, “Go on, lad.”

And, well. Jason was supposed to listen to Alfred, right?

Back at the door to the garage, though, Jason hesitated. Bruce was back rummaging through the toolbox, but his Volkswagen was moved out to the middle of the floor, out of its normal parking spot in the line of cars away from the doors.

He didn’t turn around, though, when Jason hesitatingly pulled the door open and stepped down onto the the little set of three stairs that led to the garage floor. It wasn’t until he found whatever it was, it looked like a funnel from where Jason was standing, did he turn around and notice Jason.

“Hey, bud,” he said, as he pulled a little earbud out of his ear, “what’s up?”

“Alfred said I should come see what you were doing.”

Bruce nodded and put his little earbud in a case on the work bench as he said, “Oh, well I’m changing the oil on the cars today.”

“All of them?” Jason surveyed the garage and couldn’t help but think doing something like that would take ages.

“Most of them,” Bruce nearly hummed, as he opened the driver’s door to the Volkswagen and leaned inside. A second later, the hood popped.

Jason hopped down the last two steps and walked over toward one of the lines of cars, the one with the red lambo he’d been drooling over every time he was in the garage. He hadn’t had a chance to actually look at it, though. Because every time he was in the garage, Bruce was ushering him someplace or another.

Bruce peeked over at him, but didn’t say anything when Jason put his hand down on the hood of the car. It was gorgeous. Shiny and flawless. Not a single scratch on it anywhere Jason could see.

It was obvious it was taken care of, but Jason would have never thought Bruce did the work.

“Don’t you have people for that?” Jason asked, as Bruce opened the hood on the Volkswagen and propped it open like he’d done it a million times.

With seventy-four cars, he probably had done it a million times.

“Have you seen people around here I’m not aware of?” Bruce asked, a hint of amusement in his voice as he checked the car’s oil, using the little stick thing. Jason had never actually seen someone do that before. Mostly because his parents hadn’t owned a car. He’d seen people do that on TV and stuff, though.

“No one’s mechanic lives with them,” Jason scoffed, turning fully from the Lamborghini to watch Bruce. Although Jason wouldn’t put it past a rich weirdo with a million cars to have a live-in mechanic.

Bruce huffed, what Jason assumed was a laugh, but he said, “I’m my own mechanic,” as he started messing with something in the car. Jason was kinda curious what.

“Why?”

“Is it so wrong I have a hobby?” Bruce asked, looking up at Jason finally.

“Yeah, it’s weird,” Jason answered with a shrug, “You’re rich.” Rich people had hobbies there were like, horses. Horses and… well. Jason didn’t actually know, outside of illegal stuff, obviously.

“I like working on my own cars,” Bruce said, as he walked back over to his tool box and slipped on some gloves, “At least, on the cars I can work on. Some of these are just easier to bring to the dealership.”

“Really? Why?” Jason asked, looking back around at all the cars. Bruce actually had about ten cars, mostly sport cars, “Which ones?”

“It’s all the computer systems in the newer cars, I don’t feel like owning the equipment for every single car, especially if I don’t drive that car much, anyway. And cars like the Tesla you have to get parts for on the blackmarket, and it’s far more trouble than it’s worth.”

With a slight grin, Jason asked, “So you’re saying you don’t buy stuff from the black market,” as he pointed to himself when Bruce looked over. Regardless of his intentions, Bruce had exchanged money for him. Which was technically buying a child on the blackmarket.

Bruce just rolled his eyes, though, and said, “I try not to.”

“Why do you own like ten cars?” Jason asked, as he started inspecting the other cars in the line he was at. Next to the Lamborghini was a sleek black sports car and Jason was pretty sure was a corvette. He really needed to study the symbols on cars more. It was a little ‘V’ on the hood, so he was like, 98% sure.

“There’s only nine here and one is Alfred’s,” Bruce said, like that made a difference, “and I like cars. They’re fun to collect.”

“Do you actually drive them all? You always pick the Tesla when we go anywhere.” Or that one time the Volkswagen.

Although maybe Bruce brought the sports cars out on his dates or whatever he did at night. Jason had never watched him leave or anything.

Bruce leaned back over the Volkswagen’s engine compartment as he said, “I try to drive each one at least once a month, even if it’s just around the block.”

“Oh,” he said, shoving his hands into his hoody pocket. He was wearing his Wayne Enterprises one, since he’d sweated all over the Batman one.

Maybe Bruce was right and he needed a summer hoody or something, because it was hot in the garage, too. Since the door was open to the outside and all…

Jason walked over to the open garage door and leaned back against the threshold between inside and outside and asked, “How often do you do this?” as he motioned at everything inside the garage.

“Every six months,” Bruce said, as he wiped the sweat off his forehead with his t-shirt sleeve. Then he stood up and looked straight as Jason as he asked, “Do you want to help?”

“What?” Help?

Bruce would actually let Jason help?

“Come here,” Bruce motioned with his head for Jason to come over, “I’ll show you what I’m doing.”

Jason pushed off the wall and took an aborted step forward as he asked, “Really?” Couldn’t he like, fuck up the car horribly??

Why would Bruce want him to help?

“Of course, this is a good skill to know. One day you’ll have a car of your own to take care of.”

“I will?” Jason asked, a little dazed as he did cross the garage to where Bruce was working.

Not many people owned cars, where he was from. He’d never actually dreamed that one day he’d own a car.

But maybe he should have. Because… if he got a real job, like doctor or lawyer or something, then he’d have enough money to buy one.

And if he did that, he’d probably need one to get to work and stuff.

“Of course,” Bruce said, like he hadn’t even thought the opposite. Once Jason had fully approached the car, and inched up to the side of the engine compartment, across from Bruce, he said, “Okay, tell me what all you know about cars.”

“Uh,” Jason stammered. He didn’t know much about cars, in the grand scheme of things. He’d only recently been able to research them! “Well. I know that’s the engine,” he continued, pointing to where the engine was, hiding under a cover, “And it has, uh, cylinders and pistons…”

He trailed off, but when he looked back up at Bruce, Bruce was smiling brightly, like Jason had said the right thing, so he tried to return the smile.

“Great, you already know more than most drivers,” Bruce said, as he walked back over to his workbench. He grabbed a pair of gloves and held them out for Jason as he said, “Engines have oil in them we need to change, to make sure it’s staying clean. Dirty oil damages the engine, which can cause some serious problems. Engines also burn off oil, so changing it ensures we’re keeping enough in there for the engine to work properly.”

Jason listened attentively as he rolled his sleeves up and pulled the gloves on. Bruce went to on explain how they were going to get the old oil out, replace it, and change the oil filter. He’d known kind of vaguely the basics of all that, but he’d never heard it be explained in detail.

Bruce walked him through everything, and even let Jason do some of the work. Like pull out the old oil filter and insert the oil extractor down into the car. Bruce took a step back once he showed Jason what to do, and even let Jason extract all the oil. By himself.

It was actually super easy. No wonder Bruce did his own oil changes.

While Jason was watching the oil slowly drain from the engine and into the extractor, Bruce went and got two huge bottles of oil off the shelf, which was stocked with, like, twenty bottles of the stuff.

“That much?” It looked like he had two gallons of oil, or more. Probably more. The bottles were bigger than milk jugs.

“Yes,” Bruce said, as he set the two bottles on the ground next to the extractor, “This car needs almost six quarts.”

Jason had no idea how much that was, because who measured shit in quarts?? But he nodded and watched from the side of the car as Bruce took the extractor out and slipped the funnel in, then poured the entirety of one of the bottles in.

It wasn’t until he started pouring in the second bottle did Bruce say, “Okay, I need you to pull the dip stick out and check the level.”

Jason bounced back around to the front of the car, so he could reach the dip stick. Bruce stepped to the side, further out of the way, but couldn’t go too far since he was still holding the bottle over the funnel, but it was fine. Jason could reach it just fine.

“Pull it out and wipe it off,” Bruce explained, when Jason located the dip stick, “then dip it back in. That will give you an accurate reading.”

Nodding, Jason grabbed the rag Bruce had set next to the dip stick and did exactly as told. Once he had the ‘accurate’ reading he held it up into the sun and squinted at it, trying to figure out if he was supposed to be able to tell if it was low. “Uh, it’s below the bottom dot.”

“That means we don’t have enough in there. You want the oil between the two dots.”

“Ah.” Jason nodded, and watched as Bruce poured more into the engine, a little at a time.

Each time he had Jason check the levels again, until the line was almost all the way to the top dot. Once it was, Bruce nodded contentedly and said, “That’s good enough,” and put the bottle of oil back down on the ground, “Now we just have to put the new filter in and we’re done.”

Doing that was a piece of cake. It was basically just the reverse as removing it. Then Bruce had Jason put the engine cover on by himself and they were done.

Just like that.

“Great job,” Bruce said, as he removed the stick holding the hood open, then motioned for Jason to step back so he could drop it shut. Jason jumped when the hood slammed closed, but then smiled when Bruce added, “You’re a pro already.”

“This is some people’s job,” Jason said, as he stepped back into the sunlight, shining in through the open garage door behind him, where he could get a good look at all of Bruce’s cars.

“It sure is,” Bruce said, “Mechanics is a very good field to go into. We’ll always have a need for mechanics.”

“Unless all the rich assholes start doing it themselves,” Jason said, walking along the edge of the driveway, toward the other row of cars on the other side of the garage.

Bruce huffed as he peeled his gloves off and tossed them over at the work bench. “If I crashed one of these,” he said, walking back to the Volkswagen with the key in his hand, “or the engine failed or something drastic, I’d let a mechanic fix it. I just do the routine, easy things.”

“Oh.” Jason supposed that made sense. It probably wasn’t fun if it was super tedious or whatever.

While Bruce started up the Volkswagen and backed it up into its spot, in the row of cars across the way from Jason, he wandered down the new row of vehicles.

All of the cars Bruce or Alfred drove the most were closer to the door to the Manor, so that’s where the Tesla and Bentley were. On this side was some cars Jason didn’t even recognize. He’d need to do a lot of research on fancy-ass sports cars to figure them out, too.

That was, until he stopped on the last car in the row and recognized the SRT logo on the side of the grille.

“No way,” he whispered to himself, as he circled the car.

There was no way it was what he thought it was.

He’d just seen a documentary… or four… about this car three days ago. It was an expensive car, sure, but not like million dollars expensive. It wasn’t even 100k, if he remembered right. He hadn’t been expecting Bruce to have one.

Then again, Bruce owned a Volkswagen. And this was an awesome car.

“You like that one?” Bruce asked, from across the garage.

“Is this a Hellcat?” Jason asked, before he cupped his hands around his eyes so he could try to peek inside. Sadly the tinted windows were too dark, though, so he stood back up and looked over at Bruce.

And Bruce looked… delighted. That was the only way Jason could describe it. He looked delighted.

“It sure is.”

“Dude,” Jason exclaimed, excitement bubbling up in him so quickly he felt like he would burst, “No way! What year is it? Does it really have a red key? How fast does it go? Why don’t you drive this one everywhere!”

Bruce grinned probably the most genuine grin Jason had ever seen but he couldn’t even though about it, because holy shit. He was right!!!

This was like, one of his favorite cars ever.

He’d watched four different documentaries, all on youtube, all because of the red key and how the regular black key governed the engine but the red key unlocked over seven hundred horse power.

And besides being so fucking cool that a car could go so fast, it was such a funny image, picturing seven hundred horses pulling a car.

Bruce walked over to the key lock box, up near the door to the manor, and put his Volkswagen key away. Before he shut it, though, he pulled out a bright red key and Jason just about lost it.

“Oh my God, that’s so cool.”

“Do you want to go for a ride?” Bruce asked, holding the key up, but not yet crossing the garage.

“Are you serious?” Jason asked. Bruce unlocked the doors in answer, so Jason exclaimed, “Yes!” and quickly rounded to the passenger side to open the door and look inside.

The first thing that hit him was the new car smell.

Such a wonderful, beautiful smell. Probably one of his favorites.

“This is so cool,” he whispered, in hushed awe as he slipped into the passenger seat.

There was a backseat, but there was almost no windows back there, and barely any space, and he wanted to see. Not be trapped and blind to everything happening. So Jason buckled himself into the passenger seat and just hoped Bruce wouldn’t make him move.

But Bruce just walked around to the driver door, smiling softly as he slid in and buckled himself in. “Feeling good?” he asked, as he dropped the key into the cup holder.

Good????

Jason was fucking ecstatic.

“Are you gonna go fast?”

In answer, Bruce pressed down on the brake and pressed the start button, then revved the engine loudly.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Jason said under his breath, trying not to grin too wide when Bruce put the car in drive and slowly pulled out of the parking spot.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” Bruce said. Jason didn’t even have enough time to agree, though, before Bruce lined the car up with the garage door and then gunned it.

Mostly because Jason was too busy laughing, watching the trees and bushes that lined the driveway speed by.

He only had to slow down a little for the gate, because somehow he told it to start opening before they got anywhere near it.

“You’re gonna get pulled over,” Jason said, through his laughter as Bruce hit 60 MPH out on the road outside the estate. On a road with a speed limit of 20.

“Probably,” Bruce agreed, obviously not caring one bit as he shifted gears and started going faster.

The car only his 70, though, before he slowed down to come to a stop sign at the end of their long, semi-private road.

“Okay, we have a couple options here,” Bruce said, looking over at Jason, “There’s a high school with a large parking lot we can play in, or there’s an industrial area with a network of roads that are deserted on Saturdays. Which do you think sounds better?”

Jason fidgeted in his chair, but asked, “Which one can you go faster on?”

“The industrial complex,” Bruce said, immediately turning the car to the left and zipping off again.

Bruce did keep the speed down, though, as they drove through all the little neighborhoods. Which was probably good, because Jason saw a few kids playing in their yards, and hitting a kid would probably be super bad.

But it only took a couple minutes before they were suddenly staring at a wide open straight road.

A huge wide open straight road, with four lanes running in either direction.

Obviously it was meant for tons and tons of traffic, but true to Bruce’s word, it was completely deserted.

“This was built up to be a large industry area,” Bruce explained, as he pulled onto the road and came to a stop right in the middle of it, “and there ended up being only two companies to move here. It’s one of my favorite places to play with a car.”

“It looks like a race track,” Jason observed, leaning forward in his seat so he could see over the dash, at the brake marks on the street right in front of them.

“It’s used as one. Ready?”

Quickly, Jason sat back in his seat again and nodded enthusiastically.

He was so ready.

Bruce smiled and put one hand on the wheel, the other on the clutch, then floored it.

Jason it thrown back into the seat hard, they accelerated so fast.

And all Jason could do was laugh.

Bruce treated the road like it’s a race track, circling it several times, making the car slide sometimes in his turns, the tires squealing as he did, every single time making Jason laugh harder.

It was the coolest fucking thing Jason had ever done.

They drove for nearly half an hour, Bruce driving around some of the smaller roads around the big huge buildings, and even doing a donut in the middle of a parking lot. Jason just knew that had to be terrible for the tires, but it was so cool to do.

So, so cool.

But eventually, Bruce did turn back to the manor, and by then, Jason’s stomach and cheeks hurt from laughing so much.

“You like this car, huh?” Bruce said, once they were going slow again, back through the neighborhoods with the kids.

“This is like, my dream car, dude,” Jason said, sitting back up to look at all the buttons on the dash. He hadn’t paid much attention to any of them. “Or, well, one of them.”

He had technically just learned about it a few days before, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t instantly become a dream car.

Bruce held a hand out, motioning at the radio as if saying ‘go ahead, mess with it,’ so Jason did.

He pressed all the buttons.

“Why is a Hellcat one of your dream cars?” Bruce asked, after Jason had figured out how to work the radio and was flipping through the seventy-billion satellite channels.

“I watched a bunch of youtube videos about these the other day,” he said, “I thought they were so cool with the red key. And badass looking too. I didn’t know you had one.”

“What are your other dream cars?” Bruce asked, as he grabbed the red key from the cup holder and held it out for Jason to take.

Happily, Jason took it and started inspecting it, looking at all the buttons in it, before he found a little switch that released the actual key from inside.

Although, obviously the car didn’t need the key. It needed the chip inside the key, that told the computer it was present.

“There’s a lot,” Jason eventually said, as he kept playing with the key. He couldn’t really think of car names, though. “I’ve seen a lot of really cool cars. I just never got to research them until, ya know. You gave me a laptop and stuff.”

“Right,” Bruce said, slowly, “What have you been researching on your laptop?”

“I saw an episode of some show about Roush Mustangs,” Jason said, as he dropped the key back into the cupholder and pulled his legs up on the seat, to sit criss crossed, “those look cool. Although your lambo is way cooler. Your Tesla is awesome, too. I always wanted to see a Tesla in person, then you had one.”

“The Tesla is my favorite commuter car,” Bruce said, as he shifted gears and sped up, now they were back on the semi-private road that led to the manor, “but almost all my other cars are more fun to drive.”

Jason nodded. He could see that, since the Tesla literally drove itself. “This one looks so fun to drive.”

“Tell you what,” Bruce said, once he reached the gate to the manor. This time, he had to come to a complete stop and type in his code and do the eye thing, “If you’re still here when you’re 15, I’ll tech you to drive on this car.”

“What?” Jason said, a little stunned. Because, “really??” He hadn’t even… thought that far ahead.

Not like that, at least. He’d only thought about getting through living with Bruce until he was 18, so he could move out and go to college.

But obviously if he was going to make it to 18, that would mean being here when he was 15 or 16, and…. well. That was when kids were supposed to learn to drive.

Why would he have ever thought Bruce would do that, though?? Teach him to drive??

That was what parents were supposed to do for their kids, and Jason was just a foster kid Bruce got stuck with, because Gordon made Bruce take him.

But, but, but… Bruce said he cared about him… so…

“With the red key?” Jason eventually asked, as Bruce pulled the car into the garage, and started slowly backing it up into its spot.

He paused, however, to give Jason a flat look as he said, “No.” He couldn’t hold the face, though, because he started laughing and added, “No way, with the regular key.”

“Aw.”

Although he supposed 500 horsepower was nothing to sneeze at.

“But,” Bruce said, “I might let you test out the red key, once you prove you’re a good driver.”

“Really?” Jason asked, sitting up straighter in his seat, trying to gauge Bruce’s sincerity.

He didn’t look like he was lying, so Jason cheered, “All right! I can’t wait to be 15.”

“Why don’t you focus on turning 13, first,” Bruce said, cutting the car off.

“Fine,” Jason whined, collapsing back into his seat dramatically. He righted himself quickly, though, to unfasten his seatbelt and hop out. “That was so cool, though.”

Bruce got out of the car himself, and just watched with a smile as Jason bounced up to the front of the car, to look at it and all the bugs they picked up.

Poor bugs, they didn’t stand a chance.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Jason whirled around, a second later, when Alfred cleared his throat from the manor door.

“If you gentlemen are done, lunch has been waiting for you for quite a while. Do come eat it before it gets any colder.”

“Sorry, Alfred,” Jason said, at the same time Bruce said, “Sure thing, Alf.”

Alfred quickly retreated, so Jason turned to Bruce and asked, “Is he mad at us?”

“Nah.” Bruce shut his door and started walking to the manor door, but stopped when Jason didn’t start moving in step. “He’s not mad, Jason. That’s the face he makes when he’s very happy and doesn’t know how to show it.”

“Oh.” He wasn’t quite sure why Alfred would be ‘very happy,’ but Jason wouldn’t complain about that.

Bruce took a step forward, so this time Jason followed along, and stopped on the steps as Bruce put the key back in the box.

“You’re really going to teach me how to drive on that?” he asked, pointing back at the Hellcat. He kind of had a hard time believing it.

“Yes, I promise,” Bruce said, smiling when Jason shot him a grin.

“All right!” Jason cheered, grinning so wide his face started hurting again. “No take backs, okay?” he said, holding his fist out toward Bruce, “Fist bump.”

Now it was Bruce’s turn to be startled, apparently, because he looked at Jason’s fist like he had no idea what to do as he said, “What?”

“You’re hopeless,” Jason groaned, slouching dramatically before he straightened up and reached for one of Bruce’s hands. “Look, it’s easy.”

Bruce lifted his hand cautiously, and let Jason forced his fingers to form a fist as he said, “Make a fist. There. Okay, now pound it.” Jason make his own fist again and bumped it against Bruce’s hand, grinning wide again. “There. No take backs, we fist bumped.”

“Uh, yes,” Bruce said, like he couldn’t figure out what to fucking say. His smile grew wide, though, and then morphed into something fonder. “I swear it, no take backs.”

Jason fidgeted, under Bruce’s stare, so he quickly pushed open the door as he said, “Come on. Alfred said lunch is getting cold.”

He didn’t want to think about whatever Bruce was thinking.

They’d just had a freaking awesome time, Jason was not about to ruin it. No sir.

So he skipped on ahead, to the kitchen where Alfred had a couple paninis sitting on the counter, and just focused on the fact that Bruce was going to teach him to drive.

In the Hellcat.

All because Jason liked the car.

How fucking awesome was that????

This is chapter 46 of Reclaiming Innocence, slightly edited to read as a one-shot. Link to story can be found on my masterlist.

#Jason Todd #Robin #Baby Jason #Bruce Wayne #Batman #Batfam #Red HOod #This is a modified chapter from a longfic #i modified it to make it read more like a one shot #and also to make it ' no archive warnings apply'#fic is called Reclaiming Innocence on Ao3 by MurtaghMorzanson (me)#c writes

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lovelybarnes · 3 years

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dog tags- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader warnings: breaking laws and doing crimes, mentions of cracking heads open and murder but it’s humor i swear (at least meant to be) about: PF12 "committing crimes" + DH8 "how dumb can you be?" a/n: reuploaded because posting from my computer is apparently different lol

“we’re going to get caught,” bucky taunts, and you frown, not looking at him as you concentrate on not falling and cracking your head open. “we are not going to get caught,” you respond once you’re on the ground, not sticking the landing and toppling over. cursing, you get up, and bucky shakes his head, jumping over the gate and landing gracefully. you scowl at him and he ignores you, “we’re going to go to jail,” he says negatively. you smack his shoulder in response, which does nothing to his super soldier self but makes you feel better. “we are not going to jail, god-”

bucky’s hand is suddenly over your mouth, muffling your words, and you flail as he practically manhandles you to behind a shrub. he shushes you as a woman walks out of the house, car keys dangling from her fingers as her other hand pulls open her car door, phone shoved between the crook of her neck. she’s muttering angry words into the phone, too distracted to note the build of bucky’s six foot one self and you, pressed up against bucky.

bucky waits until she’s gone for a minute to let you go, and you wipe at your mouth, “when was the last time you washed your hands, that’s disgusti-”

he cuts you off with a frustrated whisper, “you said she’d be gone by now. if it had been just you, you’d be arrested by now!” you shrug, peeking above the leaves before standing fully. bucky pulls you back down again, making you yelp. “ow-”

“shut up, if anything else goes wrong or contradicts your information, i’m leaving,” he promises, and you shrug, rolling your shoulders. “i don’t need your help, anyways. you’re the one who just followed me.”

bucky’s eyes thin, “to make sure you didn’t die- do you know how many times i’ve had to pull you out of some near death situation?”

you shrug, “i was handling it.” bucky breathes in and counts to three, shutting his eyes for a second- a second- and when he opens them, you’re at the house’s front porch, tiptoeing like an idiot into the house and leaving the door open. how the hell are you an avenger?

he huffs angrily as he goes inside the house, thankful for the privacy gate surrounding the house. shutting the door, his eyes nearly pop out of his head. you’re snooping in a cabinet, a huge dog you don’t seem to notice growling at you.

he stops, trying to look at you as loudly as possible. it’s only when you drop a file and he wonders for the eighth time today how he can possibly be in love with you that you notice him. “oh, bucky, you finally came in-”

“there’s a dog,” he cuts you off, trying to calculate his moves so that the drooling thing won’t attack either of you and ruin this idiotic mission you seem to be set on. “really?! i didn’t-” you stop yourself, remembering his past words. “i knew that. i have a plan for that,” you lie. you’re moving your hands, and the dog only seems to get more agitated, and all bucky wants to do is make you stop moving so your arm doesn’t get bitten off, but an actual idea seems to come to you and you turn, crouching down to the dog.

bucky eyes widen as you make the incredibly sudden movement of spinning and he feels like attacking you. in all of your years of being careless have you ever been so stupid. he’s frozen for a second, and he expects to be drawn out by growls and penitent shrieks, not your voice, higher pitched than usual, babbling about good boys. he blinks, startled to see your hands scratching behind the dog’s ears, baby talking to it, “who’s a good boy, huh? protecting the house from evil intruders, you are, yes!” the dog seems to be enjoying your attention, head nuzzling into your hand.

what the fuck.

you hum quietly, ignoring bucky when he pushes you with his foot, and he squints at the dog when it growls the moment he comes in contact with you. “fellow evil intruder, she’s gonna be back at some point. leave the thing alone.”

you glare at him, petting the dog’s head one more time. “brutus is not a thing, bucky. and she’s not going to be back for at least another hour. i made sure emily had her boyfriend wrapped around her finger,” bucky’s eyes narrow, “how do you know she won’t come back?” he tested.

“i told her to casually mention a new hotel opening for when they make up,” you shrug, but stand anyways as his face contorts. “what are we looking for, anyways?” bucky asks as you look in between books and couch cushions, humming distractedly. “don’t you worry your pretty little head about it, buck.”

bucky’s cheeks heat up without his permission, and he shakes it off, following you as you head into another room, the dog trailing after you as well, curious.

“y/n, you kind of need to tell me so i can help you find it,” bucky reminds. you ignore him, throwing random items over your shoulder. he catches all of them amidst his frustration, “how dumb are you?- you’re going to break these and they’ll know we were in here and we’ll-”

“go to jail, yes i know, yada yada yada,” you say distractedly, grumbling as you kick a chair. “i’m going to look in the other room,” you say and take off, leaving a grumpy bucky to organize the objects you’d left him.

bucky still hasn’t finished when you get to the next room, and after a quick scan, you can tell it’ll be your last. you ha, immediately recognizing the safe covered by a hideous painting. you pull it off easily, leaning it carefully against the wall. you count silently while you unlock the safe, laughing in triumph when you beat natasha’s record, and remind yourself to tell her when you get back. rifling around in the safe, you find what you’re looking for quickly, a small smile settling on your face as you tuck it away. your hands are in the safe again, fingers searching for something shiny to throw in sam’s face when bucky bursts in, “they’re here.”

you curse, taking your hands out and beginning to close the safe, bucky shoving you aside to do it himself, much quicker. he’s walking out the door, pausing when he notices you crouching down. “y/n, we have a minute to get out of here.”

you nod, “i know, just-” you hang the painting where it had resided before, standing back to squint at it and straightening it. “there,” you whisper, and then bucky’s pulling you by the hand, eventually throwing you over his shoulder when you decide to give up trying to run with him.

bucky manages to squeeze both of you through the barely open gate without being seen, and he’s huffing when he puts you down. “i thought you had extremely high stamina or something,” you tease, and bucky glares at you. you shrug innocently, grabbing his hand, “c’mon, let’s go home.”

bucky peers at you, “what?”

“we’re going home, i’m tired and hungry. do you think we can stop by mcdonalds or something?” you ask, tugging his hand as you walk in the compound’s direction. “breaking and entering really wears me out.”

“and that’s not even including how stressed you seemed to be,” bucky remarks sarcastically, and you nod, “exactly.” bucky pauses his movements, and you groan, pulling at him. “bucky,” you drag out, but he quiets you. “what was it you needed so badly?” he asks.

your eyes slant, biting your lip in contemplation. “i’ll tell you if you give me a piggyback ride,” you bribe after a moment, and bucky rolls his eyes but crouches down, back to you. before getting on, you reach into the pouch on your suit, taking out the chain and wrapping it around your fingers delicately. you jump on bucky’s back right after, making sure to be careful with the item in your hand.

bucky’s walking now, and you lean your head on his, drawing letters with your free fingers on bucky’s chest. “so, what is it?” bucky asks, and you trace the tags in your hand with your thumb. “you remember how disappointed you were when you came back and your dog tags had been auctioned off?” you query quietly, and feel bucky nod beneath you. “well, i found out who bought them a month ago and asked them if i could buy it back from them. they said no, because of stupid reasons and called you things that i could’ve murdered them right then and there for-”

bucky can tell what you’re talking about and looks down, “y/n,” he mutters, and you cut yourself off, “right- anyways, so i tracked them down and since they rejected the first offer, i did the obvious thing: break into their house to get it back,” you say like it’s obvious, “it’s not like it’s theirs, anyways.”

“wait, you- you did all this to get my dog tags?” bucky asks, stopping to put you down. you whine, “yes, why’d you put me down-”

bucky’s arms are around you and pulling you to him before you can finish. you’re taken aback before hugging him back, kissing his shoulder. “thank you,” he mumbles, “i’m sorry you didn’t get it back after you went through all that trouble.”

you pull away, “you think i didn’t get it?” you show him your hand, dog tags dangling, “your faith in me is shocking.” bucky grabs the tags, his fingers skimming over the words. “i can’t believe you did this for me.”

“i love you, doll,” bucky replies, pressing a kiss to your lips and remembering this. this is why i’m in love with you.

“of course,” you say softly, “i love you, buck.”

895 notes · View notes

jimlingss · 4 years

Text

Love Pages

➜ Words: 18k

➜ Genres: 60% Angst, 40% Fluff, Yandere!AU, Inspired by Death Note

➜ Summary: You've always had feelings for Park Jimin, star soccer player and cute boy-next-door. But it's been unrequited for years and you expect it to continue that way. Or at least until a certain notebook falls into your hands.

➜ Warning: toxic relationships, loosely implied smut, some victim blaming. This is not your typical love story.

The more he ran, the deeper you fell. You couldn’t help it. Not when the breeze was whisking through his dark strands, sweat was rolling down his face and his brows were furrowed in concentration. To some, it looked like Jimin was just playing soccer — a mischievous boy kicking a ball in the grassy field. But to you, it was much more than that. He was magic. Leaping through the air. Irises glistening each time the coach hollers and he smiles. The corner of his mouth tugged as his team members jump on his back. Jimin is the one who manifests the butterflies in your stomach. And that’s magical enough for you. “You’re drooling.” Jihyo is startling when she throws her arm over your shoulders and pulls you away, shattering your trance. She giggles as you scoff, finally tearing your eyes from the boy across the field. “No, I’m not.” In spite of your denial, you check if you are indeed drooling and your hand wipes at the corner of your mouth. “You have it so bad for him, Y/N,” your best friend laughs loudly as you shush her. “Relax. No one’s gonna hear. The whole neighbourhood’s gonna find out anyway if you keep staring at him like that.” “I am not staring.” “Uh-huh.” It’s clear she doesn’t believe you. “Are you actually going to talk to him or keep looking and making it obvious.” “What would I even talk to him about, Jihyo?” “I don’t know. You’ve been crushing on him since what? Eighth grade? Shouldn’t you know what he likes by now? What do nerds like?” “Jimin is not a nerd,” you defend futility and end up sighing a moment later. Jihyo has a point. But whenever it comes time to strike a conversation, your brain empties and all you can think about is how he’s actually paying attention to you. The problem isn’t that you don’t know what to say, you just don’t know how to say it. “I always end up getting too nervous and make myself look stupid.” “Need my help?” “No.” You glare as she grins. You know Jihyo’s definition of help is screaming his name for the entire school to hear. The whole soccer team would turn their heads as she’d wave and point to you. She did that once and you were beyond mortified. Thankfully, Jimin was considerate enough to smile and wave back. The two of you begin turning and walking away before you’re late for library duty. “I’m just saying, there’s only four months left before we’re graduating for good. What’s there left to lose?” “My dignity.” “I thought you didn’t have any.” You throw a weak punch, but Jihyo dodges out of the way and laughs. You know your best friend is merely trying to help. It’s not like you like being this hopeless anyway. But you’re aware that even if Jimin spares a moment for you sometimes, you’re nowhere near his league. As you pass by the bleachers, your peripheral vision catches Jimin looking your way. Immediately, you turn your head — heart stuttering. But then you realize he’s looking at Seulgi. The girl is standing at the front bleachers, sweater tucked into her skirt, cheering him on and waving. And he waves back with an even bigger grin. Jihyo doesn’t miss the interaction. You feel her hand on your arm, guiding you away quicker. “I heard Jimin and Seulgi have been getting close.” “Really? I haven’t.” Jihyo’s lying. The rumours are running rampant that he’s interested in her. You were hoping it wasn’t true, but of course he would. She’s popular and cute, and even dances. You can’t do any of those things. You can’t be those things— “Y/N?” “Sorry?” You blink hard, attention taken by the youthful librarian behind the desk smiling gently. “Are you alright, dear? Do you need to go home early?” “No.” You shake your head, feeling the weight of Jihyo’s gaze as well. “I was just thinking about something else. I’m sorry.” “It’s quite alright. I was saying how all the books have thankfully been shelved and all the things I needed to be cataloged into the computer system is done. Of course, it’s thanks to you two ladies helping me out recently.” The pair of you respond that it’s not a problem and she smiles before guiding you towards the back and flicking on the lights of the dusty room. “I was thinking we could tackle cleaning out the storage area today before we close up for the end of the year. It hasn’t been touched since the previous librarian.” She sighs. “I’ve been meaning to get it done but we’ve just been so busy.” Bookshelves on all sides and a table in the center, there are books without covers and ripped pages coating the surfaces. But it’s still not as terrible as that time you had to reorganize the entire science fiction section. That task alone took two weeks. Jihyo seems to agree. “It’s actually not that bad.” “We can probably finish it in a day or two,” you add. “You girls are more helpful than you’ll ever know.” The older lady breathes a big sigh of relief. “I was thinking we could inspect all of these and sort them into books that can still be used, donated or thrown out. I’ll run and grab you boxes so you can organize them. Oh and if there’s anything you’d like to take home, feel free to! Take it as a perk of volunteering to help out.” She smiles and you and Jihyo nod before getting to work. “Look at what I found.” Your best friend holds up a bright coloured book five minutes into it and you burst out laughing. The novel reads ‘You’ve Got A Dog in Me’ and aside from the ridiculous title, it’s completely tattered with a brown stain in the middle. “It looks like it’s some romance comedy. Whatever.” She chucks it in the garbage can and you notice an old guide on how to spank children from the fifties. It raises your brows and you throw it in the trash too. There’s a ton of books to go through, but you have fun looking at some of the ridiculous titles or synopsis with Jihyo. Some of them are able to be donated while others are in a good enough condition to be kept after the layers of dust are blown off. It’s clear that no one’s touched this storage area for years. The room is crowded, so with Jihyo at the front, you venture to the very back bookcase. You dodge stacks and bins, and squat down to the last shelf. Almost instantly, your attention is taken by shiny green spines that seemingly shimmer even in the dim lights. The books are large and heavy duty, requiring two hands to be pulled out with how tightly they’re stuffed into the shelf. But you manage. The first book reads ‘The Magical World Explored’. The second is ‘Dark Magic: Beginner Spellbook’ and the third, ‘17th Century Witchcraft History’. Latin and other symbols surround the titles and two of them are with small locks, the other without. Yet you can’t seem to open it no matter how hard you pull. What’s even stranger is that the textbooks are immaculate. It looks like they’ve been untouched. “What is it?” Jihyo asks at your ongoing silence and approaches with the same curiosity that twists to befuddlement you have. “Looks like something edgy you’d pick up on ebay for that witch aesthetic.” You burst out laughing. “I can’t even open this one. It’s like the pages are...glued together.” “Maybe they’re cursed,” she says jokingly and your next laugh is a bit more uncomfortable than the last. At the same time, the librarian pokes her head through the door, asking how everything’s going. You take the opportunity to ask her about the odd books. “Hmm, this is strange,” she muses, tapping her chin. “It looks like it’s from the previous librarian who worked at this school. I only met her a few times but she told me she was from a small village out in the middle of nowhere, so that’s where these probably came from. Anyway, she already passed away so I can’t give them back. If anything, just trash them.” “Okay.” You set them into the garbage can before continuing without thinking twice until there’s an interruption. “Excuse me?” There’s a familiar gawky boy with rounded glasses at the front desk. With the librarian busy on the other side of the library, you grab your best friend and quirk your head towards him. “Jihyo! Jihyo! It’s Namjoon!” “What?!” “Go help him!” Her face flushes pink. “No! Why don’t you?!” “Because!” You grin. “Didn’t you say that we have nothing to lose since we’re graduating?” “Don’t you know I’m all talk and no action?” Her last syllable is a squeal when you nudge her forward and out the side door where she stumbles into his line of sight. Jihyo throws a glare over her shoulder before she clears her throat. “Is there something you need? Or are you here to bother me again?” Namjoon smiles. “Both.” You watch the cute interaction for a moment before leaving to give them some privacy. Humming to yourself, you resume inspecting and sorting the books, turning to the back shelf again. And as you clear it out, you grab a stack of novels at the top shelf. Inadvertently, something topples on top of your head. Luckily, it’s thin. Not painful whatsoever. Merely flopping to the carpet— A pastel pink notebook and in small text at the front, simple words read ‘Love Pages’. It draws you in. Bewitched. Unblinking. Unbreathing. A mysterious magnetism has you spellbound, curiosity coming within waves. So you reach down to grab it, fingertips grasping the very edges of the few pages. You flip it over to the back and your eyes skim the white text on the blushing cover:

The human whose name is written first shall fall in love with the human whose name is written second.

The Pages can only take effect if the writer has the person’s face in mind.

The only way the Pages’ powers can be removed is through erasing the names.

A name cannot be written first more than once at a time.

Warning: The more naturally compatible a couple is, the more effective the Pages shall be. The less compatible a couple is, the more likely undesired consequences shall arise. Utilize with caution. You’re confused. You wonder what kind of prank this is. Whoever did it had a really detailed and elaborate yet creative plan to fool someone. But you wonder if they accidentally left this notebook here. You’re not sure if the notebook should go straight into the garbage, so you toss it on the table and continue cleaning. It’s not long before you come across a crime novel you’re actually interested in and place it aside to remember to take home. And it’s not long before Jihyo’s coming back in with her backpack. “Hey, our shift’s over. She said we can finish tomorrow. Wanna go grab fries on the way home?” “Sure.” You grin. “How’d your talk with Namjoon go?” Jihyo smiles, the usual assertive girl grown shy under the topic. “How do you think it went?” You grab the novel and shove it into your bag haphazardly without looking. You don’t realize a certain soft pink notebook underneath that you’ve taken as well. // It’s evening by the time you get home. Tired and grimy from the long day, you beeline straight up the stairs to your room as your mother’s voice chirps from the kitchen. “Have you had dinner yet?!” “I already ate with Jihyo!” you call back before shutting your bedroom door. You swing your backpack off your shoulders as you collapse into your chair. Your desk is cluttered with loose leaves of your bored scribbles, college pamphlets and school forms you never read. The attempt to make your room pretty and aesthetic failed years ago with your messy tendencies, but what catches your eye as you look around is the candle of Bundled Roses Jihyo gave you for your birthday. Golden lid and shell pink container, you reach out and uncap it to dig the wax into your nose. Even after burning half of the candle already, it still smells good. You smile to yourself, placing the candle back in its spot next to the lighter. The desk lamp is switched on and you reach for your backpack to dump out your homework. In a few months, you’ll be freed from ever having to sit down and be forced to do quadratic equations again. Graduation was definitely something to look forward to. But as you spill the contents of your bag out, the crime novel and a certain pink notebook comes tumbling out. “Shit.” The Love Pages stares back at you. It’s tiny print letters on the cover are simple yet annoying. You didn’t mean to take it with you, but that mistake’s gonna cost you a walk all the way to the library tomorrow. Or you could simply dump it in the trash bin now. Dust your hands off. Call it a day. But for some reason, you don’t. You don’t turn to stuff it back into your bag. You don’t shift to drop it in the trash. Perhaps it’s on a whim, riding the wave of procrastination, preferring to delay homework for just another moment— You flip it open. Min Yoongi Kim Seokjin Amane Miki Jeon Jungkook Kim Taehyung Ellie Windsor It’s funny. In a strange sort of way. There’s an endless list of names spanning across the pages, each line consisting of exactly two but the writing is starkly different. For some of them, it’s clear that they were written by the same person. Straight lines, small letters, the occasional loops. Yet for others, it’s chicken scratch writing or scribbles, hearts drawn on the side, thin lead to thicker ones. It looks like the notebook’s been passed to lots of people in spite of its immaculate exterior. As you flip, you find faded names barely legible as if they’ve been erased. More importantly, there’s more than ten pages that have yet to be written in. For how silly and complex this prank is, maybe it’s a good luck charm. Maybe these couples actually got together and this notebook somehow fell into your lap as a sign of fate. Maybe. It’s ridiculous. But would it hurt to try? It’s not like anyone would know. Plus, you’ve doodled your name as ‘Park Y/N’ more times than you could count. Secretly, of course. Compelled and childish, you reach for the pencil on your desk. You flip to the next clean new page and recall the rules of the Pages. And you call to mind kind smiles, half moon eyes and a sweet voice. Your pencil loops his name onto the paper. Park Jimin L/N Y/N It’s done. Your breath hitches. You blink once. Then twice. But — nothing happens. “God, I’m such a fucking idiot.” You’re not sure what you were expecting, but it’s not like Jimin’s going to fall in love with you simply because you wrote his name down in some stupid book. That’s not how love works. You shut the Love Pages and shove it away before cracking open your algebra textbook with a tired groan. // It’s early morning when you’re trudging along the path to school, rubbing your swollen eyes that you’re sure Jihyo will make fun of you for. But it’s not your fault that you ended up scrolling through your phone instead of tackling the chem assignment and forgetting that it was due today until you were laying in be— “Y/N?” It’s an unfamiliar-familiar voice. Unfamiliar in the ways that you’re still not used to it. That you haven’t heard it directed to you enough times. But familiar in the ways that you’ve always listened to it. That your ears always perked when you passed by him in the halls, trying to pick up on the sweet syllables that rolled off his tongue. You’ve always hung off every sentence that he had to say. Holy fuck. Park Jimin is looking at you. “Y/N?” And he’s smiling, tilting his head, eyes tender. He’s so close and if your mind could actually function, you would realize that he’s just standing there by the school entrance as if he was waiting for you. “Are you alright?” “Y-Yeah.” The word chokes out of you and you try to shake off your nervousness. You muster a smile as your heart begins to pound into your ears. “S-Sorry.” “Good morning,” Jimin tweedles with a growing grin. “Morning.” You start walking alongside him. “How’re you?” “Good. You?” “I’m good too.” Jimin’s eyes are crinkled and he steals a glance at you at the same time you do. It’s a moment that has your heart stuttering in your chest. “It’s been a while since we’ve talked.” You’re caught off guard, unable to believe this is happening. But his presence is more than welcome. In fact, Jimin doesn’t know that he’s already making your day. “Y-Yeah, it has been. How’s….soccer practice been?” “Really great actually. We have one more game left. We’re versing West Side this time.” “It’s the final match of the season?” “Yup! We’re all pretty excited. Everyone wants to win but even if we don’t, then we come in second place in the entire school district.” Your steps slow as you get to the front doors, still wanting to savour each second and luckily, he slows as well. Neither of you are eager to move on. “That’s incredible, Jimin.” “Y/N!” Right as the conversation is simmering down, Jihyo disrupts any awkwardness that might settle. She appears out of nowhere and swings her arm over your shoulder. Your best friend gives you a knowing look and then to Jimin. “Hey there, Park.” “Hey.” He smiles politely, then redirects his gaze to you. “I’ll see you later, Y/N.” “Y-Yeah. Totally. See you.” You wave, still struck and baffled by the interaction. Jihyo seems equally surprised as well. And once Jimin’s gone from sight, she nudges you roughly with a sly smile. “What was that all about? Did you finally grow some balls?” “No. He was the one who approached me,” you murmur, not sure what to say. You wonder if this is the Love Pages’ doing, but that’s impossible. It was merely a prank notebook made by someone bored. // It’s hard to focus in class with what happened in the morning. You keep replaying the scene in your head. His soft voice. The look in his eye. How he was standing around and his smile lit when he saw you. It’s a record, a movie, that’s played again and again in your mind. Soaking every second you couldn’t take in at the time. To some it might simply be mundane small talk, but to you, who’s always looked at him from afar, the butterflies are still tickling your tummy. The world has never been so rosy. It’s after class that your head is still in the clouds and you’re trying to repress your giddy smile to yourself. You’re holding your textbooks to your chest as you pass by the field, making your way home alone with Jihyo at her after-school anime club. She had a small interest in it but it only grew after befriending Namjoon there. As much as she likes to make fun of Jimin for being a nerd, Namjoon’s the real geeky one. But that only makes your best friend and him all the more endearing. You hope they get together soon. In the midst of your thoughts, you don’t notice the soccer practice going on. Not until there’s fast sprinting steps crescendoing to your left. “Y/N!” There’s an out of breath shout of your name and you halt with your eyes wide. Jimin’s panting as his team members disperse from the field. He grins. “I thought I saw you!” You’re stunned and watch as he wipes the sweat dripping on his forehead with his blue jersey. You blink hard, mouth full of cotton. Before today, Jimin never approached you when you were by yourself — most certainly never twice in a day. You’ve never had this much attention from him before. “I was worried you weren’t going to drop by like you usually do!” “Like...I usually do?” “Yeah.” He steadies his breath with a cheeky smile. “I’ve always noticed that you came to practice. Honestly, you’re kind of like my good luck charm. It feels weird if you’re not there.” Your brain goes blank. You process a single word at a time. And you manage one nod. “Hey…” Jimin scratches the back of his neck, cheeks blooming with a subtle hue. “Do you want to wait till practice is over? I want to walk you home. If you’d like.” “S-Sure…” “Park!” his coach shouts and Jimin whirls around with a grin. “Break’s over!” “Yeah, I’m coming!” Park Jimin’s smiling to himself as he runs back onto the field — leaping in the air, wind whisking through his dark strands. In the meanwhile, you’re left rooted to the ground, staring at his backside. Your face is on fire and the butterflies erupt all the way to your throat. It’s magic. “—hot dogs down at East road….” “You comin’, Park?” Kyungsoo looks at his team member, noticing the quietness of the soccer star. Jimin smiles before pulling the clean shirt through his head. “Nah. I have plans.” “With who?” another interjects. “Seulgi?” “No, someone else.” Instantly, obnoxious ‘ooh’s fill the locker room and he rolls his eyes with a growing grin before throwing his duffle bag over his shoulder and shutting his locker. Jimin exits and finds you waiting meters away. Jimin runs to you. “Sorry for you leaving you waiting!” “It’s okay.” The walk home is a bit awkward. You’ve never had anyone accompany you other than Jihyo before — most certainly not a boy, and not the person you’ve been crushing on for practically four years now. You clear your throat and steal a glance. “Is there a reason you wanted to walk me home?” “Why?” Jimin is immediately alarmed. “Did you not want me to?” “No!” Your eyes look into his, equally as rounded. “That’s not it. I’m...just not used to it, that’s all.” “Honestly.” Your steps are synced together and colour blooms on his cheeks. “I wanted an excuse to talk to you more and get to know you better.” “Oh.” “I guess you can say I realized the other day that we went to the same elementary, but I don’t even know you that well. You can tell me if you don’t want to—” “I want to,” you blurt before you can realize what’s coming out of your mouth. Jimin’s eyes are as big as saucers and he nods. At the same time, you frantically turn away out of embarrassment, not noticing the way Jimin was smiling to himself. The comfortable silence simmers between the pair of you as the sun sets over the horizon, painting the sky in a pastel tangerine hue. You can hear children on the playground nearby, see the other sidewalk occupied by a couple pulling along a stroller and the grandma in her front yard pinning up her laundry to dry. And as you savour the moment, the back of your hand accidentally brushes against Jimin’s. It’s soft and you flinch subtly before glancing down. Jimin must feel it too because he follows your line of sight and clears his throat. “Hey.” His timbre is husky and nervous. “Is it...okay if I hold your hand?” You answer with a bob of your head. And Jimin timidly reaches out, fingertips first, and then his palms clutch yours. Your hands are slotted together perfectly and you muse how soft his skin is. Heat rises to your face. Heart stuttering in your chest. Butterflies a whirlwind in your stomach. But unfortunately, the moment is all too short. “This is it.” You stop in front of your house and Jimin lets go of you. He looks at your home and smiles. “It’s cute.” “Thanks.” You pull open the gate, eyes diverted elsewhere lest he can see how flustered you are. “Well, I’ll see you later, Jimin. Thanks for walking me home…” “Wait!” he shouts when you’ve taken three steps and you spin around to see him scratching the back of his neck. “Sorry, um, Y/N. Would….would you like to...like to go out sometime to catch a movie or get some food this weekend. I mean you don’t have to, no pressure.” Your mouth is twitching as you try your best not to scream on spot. “I’d like that, Jimin.” “Okay.” A cheeky grin spreads gradually into his cheeks, eyes crinkled into crescent moons. “I should probably get your number then…?” “Sure.” The exchange is quick and then you’re running into your house, stomping all the way up the stairs, ignoring your mom’s shout. You launch yourself into bed face first, mattress bouncing at the impact. While your limbs are sprawled out, you scream into your pillow with your furnace hot face. You roll around in your covers, kicking your blankets. Jimin just asked you out on a date. He asked you out on a date and he walked you home. Park Jimin walked you home and talked to you this morning. You’re certain your heart’s about to give out with how fast it’s beating, that the butterflies bursting in your tummy’s about to explode up your throat and out of your mouth. You can’t believe it. You rise up in your bed with your hair in a disarray and your bed ruined, and you look over to your desk where the pastel pink notebook is. You wonder if this is the Love Pages’ doing. // “You’re going on a date?!” Your best friend is taken off guard, but when you vehemently nod, her confusion is overcome with excitement. Jihyo engulfs you in a hug. “This is so fucking exciting! I’m so excited for you! Oh my god!” She squeals and you laugh, jumping together. “Do you know what you’re going to wear yet?” “I have no idea.” “I’ll help you.” She grins. “It’s going to be fine, you’re going to sweep him off his feet.” “Easy for you to say,” you counter, “Your crush already likes you back.” “Namjoon’s just a friend,” Jihyo sighs and then her peripheral vision catches the tall brunette passing by as if calling his name was enough to summon him. “Shush! He’s coming!” Except you look him straight in the eye and smile. “Hey, Namjoon.” “Hey.” Namjoon snorts as if he overheard the conversation, a smile placed on his features as his eyes linger on Jihyo before he passes by. She remains nonchalant as if he’s invisible. Or at least until the moment he’s gone and she steps on your foot. “You were being way too obvious!” You pout at Jihyo, grabbing her arm. “No, I wasn’t.” “Go be cute to Jimin instead,” she scoffs while you giggle, hoping he’ll find you half as endearing as you know your best friend does. // The weekend comes slower than you wish it would, but arrives nonetheless. You’re waiting at the station — intercom noisy overhead, the sound of the train breaking echoing from afar. It’s the bustle of the afternoon, of overtime office workers and other couples shuffling amongst themselves with parents following their children. You tug on the hem of your dress that Jihyo insisted you wear. You’re not sure if it’s too much or if you caked on too much makeup, but there’s no time to overthink. “Y/N!” Jimin meets you, dressed in casual attire of jeans and a white tee underneath a black hoodie. “I’m sorry I’m late!” “You weren’t late, Jimin. I just came early.” “But how long were you waiting for?” “Not that long,” you assure and he glances at you before smiling. “You look really nice. Like really nice.” “T-Thanks,” the word stutters out of you and you look around, feeling conscious under his sole attention. “Where are we heading first?” “I was thinking of catching a movie, if you’d like.” “Sure.” The both of you start moving towards the exit. At the same time, the intercom announces the arrival of the Northbound train. It pulls up on the other side and the doors whir open a beat later, flooding the platform with passengers exiting and pushing to enter. In the chaos, your shoulder is roughly shoved and you’re pushed aside by the rushing mass. You wince and open your eyes to discover you’re losing sight of the boy with dark strands. But the second hopelessness begins to settle— “Are you okay?” Jimin’s hand has clasped yours and he’s pulled you out from the crowd. You stumble in a place where you can breathe again. Jimin smiles sweetly and you’re not sure if he’s an angel or not. “I thought I lost you,” you admit in an exhale. “Don’t worry, I would never let you out of my sight.” His grip is firm and secure. Jimin squeezes tenderly and leads you out the exit again — this time with you in hand. You feel your palm getting warm. “Sorry, my hand’s a bit sweaty.” “I don’t mind.” Your heart catches in your throat. You hope this lasts forever. The pair of you end up catching a romance movie in a cute, local theater called When Spring Meets Autumn. But towards the end, you’re not sure what it’s about. Not when all you can think about is the fact that Jimin’s beside you, how he’s leaning your way, your elbows are brushing. The way his arm ends up draping over the back of your seat. All you can do is steal glances at him. Your eye eventually catches his and your attempt of pretending you weren’t staring is futile. You feel Jimin lean even closer, noticing a soft smile playing on his lips. “Is there something wrong?” he whispers. You shake your head. It’s the opposite. This is a dream come true. “I’m usually more into action than romance,” he says as the both of you walk alongside one another over the bridge. “I can’t believe that actress died ten minutes into the movie though.” “Oh yeah.” You laugh awkwardly, not able to recall. Your eyes travel towards the cityscape and then the lake that you were crossing. Your ears perk at the giggles of couples in pedal boats, blue boats they’re using to cross the waters together. Envy stems in your mind. They sure were taking advantage of the warm weather. Jimin notices your fixation. “Have you ever been?” You shake your head. “I’ve always wanted to go in it with my family, but I never got the chance.” “We could do it now.” Your eyes meet his. “Right now?” “Why not?” He grins boyishly, already taking your hand again. It’s ten dollars for ten minutes and you split the cost in half, in spite of how much he insists on paying for the ride. The boat wobbles as you get in, but Jimin holds your hand and guides you, laughing while the instructor asks if you want a life jacket for the second time and shows the rules nailed onto the wooden board. The two of you get settled in and start pedaling with your feet. But you don’t get anywhere and bump into the dock instead. “The left person paddles!” The instructor yells and Jimin’s wide-eyed before he nods and follows. “This is actually my first time too,” he admits shyly as you finally get into the lake. “I wanted to look cool.” Laughter unabashedly bubbles out of your throat. “It’s okay, Jimin. You’re very cool to me.” “Now you’re just trying to make me feel better.” “No!” You retort in the midst of giggles. “I’m being honest!” You both paddle to the middle of the lake and it’s a lot more work than you expected. You’re sure you don’t look flattering in your dress pedaling a boat but there’s no time to dwell when you’re having this much fun. At least not until you feel your toes getting wet. “Oh my god!” You flinch. “There’s a hole in the boat!” Water leaks up to your ankles and it’s only getting faster. “Paddle to shore!” Jimin shouts in the midst of laughing. You giggle and as if to make matters worse, the rolling clouds over the horizon begin pouring rain. It spits and then starts showering on top of your heads. You’re becoming soaked from both ways, but rather than being upset, you’re laughing and giggling hysterically with one another. Jimin helps you up onto the harbour and holds your hand as you run away to get some cover. You find some under a closed store canopy on a nearby quiet street. The pair of you face the road, unable to see far with the thick, heavy rain morphing the city to monochrome. Warm giggles fill the spaces beside you. “I’m going to be honest, I imagined the first date with you would be a lot better than this.” You meet Jimin’s eye and take the chance to tease him. “You imagined it?” But he doesn’t make a snarky comeback. Jimin is genuine as he is shy. “Yeah. I have. I like you a lot, Y/N. I think...I have for a long time. I just didn’t realize it.” It’s silent — the peaceful kind of quiet that lingers. As cold as the rain is, your face warms. But you wonder if this is how Jimin really feels or if it’s the Love Pages’ doing. Your trance is shattered by an embarrassed laugh. “You shouldn’t leave a guy waiting after they confessed, you know.” Jimin tilts his head, eyes tender and smile kind. “It makes it feel like you’re about to reject me.” Reject him?! “I’ve liked you since eighth grade,” you blurt loudly, the honesties pouring out of your mouth. They’re words you never thought you would have the chance to say. A confession you’ve always held in your throat. Secrets you held so close to you and were too cowardice to speak. But the compassionate Jimin you’re facing makes you brave. He grins, a growing smile that spreads into his cheeks and makes his eyes gleam. “Really?” “I have ever since you helped me in that group project.” “I did?” His brows furrow. “I can’t really recall.” It’s disheartening to hear considering that the memory is significant to you, but you elaborate as if you could jog his mind. “Science class with Mr. Chen. No one was listening and I was really stressed, but you helped me.” The recognition never seems to set in his eyes, but instead, they flicker down to your lips. “Can I kiss you?” You nod furiously and Jimin smiles before he leans in with heavy lidded eyes. His fingers lift to hold your chin and your eyes flutter shut. Soft lips meet yours. It’s a sweet kiss, a brief and chaste one. Your very first. And your heart feels like it’s about to burst. You can practically hear Jimin’s thundering heartbeat underneath the thumping rain. // The giddiness lasts an hour later. You can’t resist the enormous grin on your face even when you slap your own cheeks and tell yourself to calm down. It’s still cloudy outside when you get home, the rain subsided into scattering droplets, yet you feel warm inside. “I’m hom—” The announcement is cut short when you stumble on a pair of shoes. You catch yourself and look down to find odd brown loafers that don’t belong to your mom, dad or you. There’s only one other person. “Hobi?!” As if the day couldn’t get any better. You sprint into the living room to find your older brother sitting on the couch and he turns around with a small smile. “If it isn’t my baby sister.” “What are you doing here?” It’s not like him to visit unannounced, but as you step forward into the evening light, you discover his reddened eyes and the swollen area underneath is as if he’s been crying. Colour instantly drains from your face and your expression falls. “Is...there something wrong?” Your pupils stray to the suitcase beside him. Hoseok musters another smile. “Surprise. I’m moving back.” “W-Where’s Irene?” “She’s not coming.” His voice is hoarse. “It’s…..over. We’re getting a divorce.” What? // Life — he told you is what happened. Careers got busy. Staying together turned out to be more of a chore than expected. And it seemed like there were more arguments than there were proper conversations. Hoseok followed it up with a hard swallow and nonchalantly told you that sometimes things just don’t work out. But by the look on his face, you know he was holding back tears. You’ve never seen your brother cry before. “What do you mean?!” “What happened? Did she kick you out? For how long?! Where are you planning to go now?!” Your parents are in hysterics, exasperated and stunned by the situation. Your dad is tense in the armchair while your mother is pacing the floor. You watch the three of them through the gap of your bedroom door, not sure if you should intrude or what you would even say. “This doesn’t make any sense! The two of you were fine last week!” “We weren’t, mom,” Hoseok assures in a weak voice with his downcast head. “Have you spoken to her yet?! Did the pair of you sit down and talk properly?” Your older brother releases a staggering exhale from his lungs. “We have,” his voice cracks, “enough times. And...it’s...it’s over between us.” This isn’t right. This shouldn’t be happening. Your mother cries, “Hoseok, are you giving up?! You can’t just give up! This is your marriage that we’re talking about. This is serious!” “This isn’t just up for me to decide!” Hoseok retorts in a shout, finally lifting his face. “I can’t do anything about it when she doesn’t want to talk to me anymore!” You shut the door quietly, pressing your back against the surface. You’re as shocked as your parents are — maybe even more so. You were the one who saw it first hand. You’re the one who tagged along when they went to play, when Irene knocked on the door every morning to go to school together, you’re the one who sat in the backseat as they took a road trip down to the beach six summers ago. The two of them grew up together in this neighbourhood. They’re soulmates. And you know that best. Your dad’s voice is muffled through the walls. “—happened exactly?” “—doesn’t love me anymore……..wanted a break weeks ago.” Hoseok’s eagerness, Irene’s calmness. Their sense of humour, their ambitions in life — it all aligns like puzzle pieces meant to fit. And you’re not the only one who thinks so. Everyone who has eyes and ears would’ve thought that their relationship would be inevitable. They’re soulmates — better together than apart — and you could bet your entire existence on that fact. You march across the stretch of your room and sit yourself down in the chair. Swiftly and silently, you pull open the last drawer of your desk and grab the pastel pink notebook. Pushing your chemistry textbook, candle and lighter aside, you flip open the pages. Kang Irene L/N Hoseok L/N Hoseok Kang Irene The names are written without needing to blink twice, straight lines and big print. Twice to make sure that both sides are the same, that affections will be reciprocated. But you know it’s childish. You can only hope it works. // Dinner is stiff. Little bites are taken, each person nibbling on the food. No words are exchanged across the table when the tension is so thick. Neither your mom or your dad speaks another word about the issue with the way Hoseok’s brooding. There’s no point in making futile commentary, in adding gasoline to the fire after all, so you don’t press on the matter either. But ten minutes into dinner, the silence is interrupted by the doorbell. It echoes throughout the home and heads lift, eyes looking at one another. Hoseok is the first who moves. As if he has a sixth sense or a foolish wish of who it could be. Who he hopes it is. And as you and your parents follow after him while he opens the door, that wish is granted. Irene stands at the doorstep in a cream coat and leggings, bag thrown over her shoulder. She’s out of breath as if she rushed over, yet the pair of them don’t speak. They gaze at one another quietly. Hoseok grips the doorknob, eyes pinned on his wife as she looks back into his brown irises warmed by the dim light of the foyer. Their eyes are tender, expressions pained. “C-Can I come in?” she asks in an exhale. Hoseok nods fervently. As much as your parents would like to listen in to the conversation, they both give Hoseok and Irene a private moment. One you observe through the crack of your door. There’s an exchange of sighs and muffled apologies. And when your brother finally asks what she’s doing here, Irene responds in a beat. “I still love you.” “W-What? But just a few hours ago...you….you said….we were done. This is so sudden.” “I know.” With her downcast head, tears trickle down her cheeks. “I know that. But I regretted it the second you were gone, Hoseok. I’m sorry. I...I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everythin—” Hoseok pulls her in close, cradling her face against his shoulder as he embraces her. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I love you too.” The corner of your mouth tugs and you look away when they kiss. They’re surmounting the bittersweet moment together, leaving behind the point where they were so close to abandoning their relationship. Your parents emerge with you lingering behind and you’re relieved as they are. “I’m sorry.” Irene dips her head. Your father glances at your mother and then smiles. “Don’t worry about it, dear. Couples fight all the time. It’s only natural when you’re living together.” “Does this mean you’re not staying over?” You intrude, quirking your head at your brother who smirks. “I thought we were gonna have a massive sleepover.” Your mom nudges you. “Let him leave with Irene. They should spend time together.” Hoseok laughs. “Maybe next time, squirt. I’ll make sure to come home next week and visit. This time, properly.” He gazes at his wife who nods. The two of them leave hand in hand, closer than they were before. It's the perfect outcome. All you could have hoped for. What you know is meant to be. But it isn’t a mere coincidence that Irene came here, that they made up with one another. You know it in your bones — the Love Pages works and it’s your saviour.

“You look like you’re in a good mood,” Jihyo notes with a brow raised and you snap back to attention, realizing that you’ve been humming and smiling to yourself. “I guess I just have a lot to be happy about,” you sing-song and your best friend scoffs lighty with a tiny smile of her own. “Yeah, cause you’re dating Park Jimin and even wearing his sweater. Life’s good, isn’t it?” You look down to the navy material that’s soft to the touch, sleeves draped past your fingers. He gave it to you after noticing that you were cold one evening and said you could keep it. You’re happy to wear it too since it carries his comforting scent and makes it clear what your relationship with him is. You smile, unable to retort Jihyo’s snarky yet playful tone. And she notices your love-struck state, rolling her eyes before she’s interrupted by a gawky brunette whose height towers over her sitting form. “Jihyo, you said you had the homework answers?” She looks up and deadpans, “I never said I would give them to you, Namjoon.” You’re stunned at how your best friend can be so cold to her crush, but you know it’s just a front to keep herself from being flustered and out of control. Namjoon seems to know as well since he grins. “I thought we could compare.” “Fine.” She exhales, acting like it’s all a chore when you’re certain she’s ecstatic. Jihyo brushes a strand of her dark hair behind her ear and smooths out her skirt as she stands. “Let’s see what you have, Joon.” You watch them stride across the classroom to his desk, eyes tracing their backsides. And then you’re reaching down to your backpack for the pastel pink notebook. You’re not sure when you started bringing it around with you, but the Love Pages have become your good luck charm. You feel naked without it in your possession. No one notices when you push aside your biology textbook. When you flip it open. When you take your pencil and begin scribbling names inside. Kim Namjoon Park Jihyo There’s a reason this notebook fell into your lap and you’re not going to let it go to waste. Out of everyone you know, Jihyo deserves her feelings to be reciprocated. And you’ll play cupid if that’s what it takes. Swiftly, the notebook is closed and you slide it back into your backpack. A beat later, your best friend is returning and colour is drained from her face. She plops down in her desk chair, the seat in front of yours. “Jihyo?” She looks like she’s seen a ghost and you’re alarmed, wondering if something went wrong. “What happened?” “Namjoon...he….he….” She blinks hard. “He just asked me out…?” “What?” Your head whips across the classroom where said boy is smiling at your friend. You didn’t know the effects of the Pages are so instantaneous. “When? Right now?” She nods after a delayed second and a smile spreads into your face. You try to keep your squeals down before it collects the attention of the rest of the class. “Oh my god, Jihyo! I’m so happy for you!” Her brows furrow. “I don’t get it….it came out of nowhere….” “Does it matter?” You grab your best friend’s hands. “You’re going on a date with Kim Namjoon!” “I am. I...am!” Your best friend finally looks you in the eye, giddy at the idea. “I need to go shopping!” // “—and then she came back and told me that he asked her out!” You’re smiling from ear to ear, twirling around to face Jimin as he watches you with a smile. You don’t think it’s possible that you could be any happier than this. Not only do you have Jimin by your side, but you’ve granted both your brother and your best friend their wishes. “They’re going to catch a movie this weekend, I think.” “You’re so excited,” he laughs. “Sounds like you’re the one going on the date.” “Jihyo’s liked Namjoon for so long. I’m just happy for her.” “You spend a lot of time with Jihyo, huh?” Jimin comments as you come to a stop at the light, waiting for the pedestrian signal to come on. “She’s my only friend,” you admit with a small smile, reminiscing over the years. Your steps sync with Jimin’s again. “My best friend. We’ve been through thick and thin.” “I’m jealous,” your boyfriend squeezes your hand, eyes glimmering. “I want you all to myself.” You lightly scoff at his flirtation and his smile only widens until you let go of your interlaced hands to open the mailbox in front of your house. But unfortunately, there’s nothing inside. No acceptance or even rejection letters from any colleges or universities like you were anticipating. There’re no bills or advertisement pamphlets either which probably means your dad’s home from work and beaten you to the punch. “Well, I’ll call you later then, Jimi—” “Can I come in?” he asks, eyes twinkling with hope. You’re taken aback and glance over your shoulder, not sure if introducing your boyfriend to your parents so soon is a good idea. While you know they try their hardest, your parents can be extremely overbearing. They tend to bombard anyone you talk to with a million questions, yet somehow, they’re still out of touch with your life. Your relationship with your parents isn’t spectacular to say the least. But when Jimin takes a step forward with confidence, you have a feeling that they’ll like him as much as you do. After all, who doesn’t like Jimin? And you’re not wrong. “Hello. Nice to meet you.” He dips his head in greeting, tone respectful as he stands in the foyer of your home. Your mom’s brows are raised to her hairline while your dad is seemingly sizing him up. “My name is Park Jimin. I’m Y/N’s classmate.” “Actually, he’s my boyfriend,” you clarify, deciding to be straightforward with it and your parents exchange expressions. But within minutes, you know they’ve fallen for him too. “Oh dear, you’re on the soccer team as well?” Jimin nods. “I’ve been playing since elementary, but I’m not that great at it.” “That’s a blatant lie,” you object while sticking your head from the kitchen into the living room where they’re seated. “Jimin’s the star of the soccer team.” “That’s very remarkable,” your father notes with stars practically in his eyes. You have to hold back laughter just watching them. “How do you manage to be so studious, keep up such great grades, maintain a social life and play sports at the same time?” “I’m not as impressive as it sounds,” Jimin laughs shyly, scratching the back of his neck. “I just do a little every day. I think having supportive parents help a lot and having Y/N around does too. She’s always supported me, even before we got together, so I owe her a lot.” Their smiles are bright, bodies relieved and you match Jimin’s soft smile. Any nervousness of having Jimin meet your family vanishes like it never even existed. And for a moment, you imprint the scene in front of you in the forefront of your brain. You wonder if your future will someday look like this — Jimin sitting across from your parents in your family home. “Would you like to stay for dinner, Jimin?” your mother asks and he enthusiastically nods. // Life is perfect. “You’ll come to my game, right?” “Of course, I will!” The days and weeks are flying by fast, and you’re getting closer and closer to graduation. It’s hectic but a busyness that isn’t tiring — not when you’re enjoying every moment of it. “And the winner of the final soccer match of this season goes to Daykey High!” Cheers erupt from the stands and as you shoot up with your own hollers, Jimin whips his body around after being dogpiled on by his teammates and grins. He races up the stands when he gets a chance, engulfs you in his embrace and gives you a sweaty kiss full of vigour that has you smiling. Months ago, you would’ve never known your last months of high school would be spent so perfectly. It feels like a dream come true, like your biggest desires have been granted. “Jimin!” “What?” “Are you going to come, dude? We’ve missed you at like five hangouts so far. C’mon, this one’s gonna be the last one, you have to come.” “Nah.” He grabs his duffle bag. “Sorry, guys. I'll probably have to back out of this one too. Can’t leave my girlfriend waiting.” “What’s going on, Chim?” The soccer captain steps forward with his brows furrowed. “This isn’t like you.” “What do you mean?” Jimin laughs. “Nothing’s going on.” Another snorts and slings an arm over his shoulder. “You got it bad for your girl, don’t you?” Jimin’s sheepish when he admits it. “She’s the only one for me.” Sometimes you’re frightened that you’ll wake up one morning and find that everything you’ve been living through was really just a dream. But time and time again, you open your eyes to see the pastel pink notebook on your desk. And it’s a reminder that it’s what brought you all this joy. The Love Pages made this possible. “H-Hey, Jimin.” Seulgi lingers outside the locker room, struggling to meet his eye as she teeters from side to side. “Congratulations on winning.” “Thanks! It was a tough game, but I’m glad we pulled through.” “Yeah...well..um…I—.” “I’ll see you around?” Jimin smiles and Seulgi nods after a delayed second. They exchange small smiles full of distant politeness, but as Jimin turns to catch up to you, his expression grows genuine. You hope this lasts forever. // “Hey, Jihyo….” “What.” “How are your eyes so beautiful?” Namjoon mutters and the girl busy with her paper turns her head to glare at him. The corner of his mouth curls and he hums, “I wonder how I’ll go on without you. I might miss you to death.” She scoffs, unwavered by the greasy lines. “Get your ass to class before you’re late.” Namjoon grins and as he gets up, grabbing his bag with him, he makes sure to plant a surprise kiss to the top of her head. The gawky boy laughs at his partner’s scandalized expression and takes his leave. In the meanwhile, the smile itching up your features finally reveals itself and you march across the library floor to plop down into the seat that Namjoon had occupied. “You two lovebirds really need a room.” Jihyo makes a noise of acknowledgment at the back of her throat. “How did the fourth date go?” “What? Oh yeah. It was fine.” Her response is short and you chalk it up to her merely concentrating on finishing her assignment, but after a minute, Jihyo lifts her chin and looks at you. “Hey, Y/N.” “What?” “Do you think Namjoon’s off somehow?” “What do you mean?” “I know him.” Jihyo pauses. “Namjoon would rather die than say something as cheesy as he just did.” You loll your head to one side and shrug. “I don’t know. Love changes people, Jihyo. You should stop overthinking it and just let yourself be loved.” She blinks and hums, returning back to her work. // The library is becoming quieter and quieter as summer arrives. Jihyo doesn’t blame everyone for preferring to spend their remaining days outside with their friends than hanging out in a place surrounded by bookshelves and studying for exams. But if anything, it makes her job easier. There are fewer books to shelve, fewer people to attend to and less to clean up. With only a student here or there, she’s able to savour the last shifts of library duty left. “Joon.” “Hmmm?” Not to mention, no one really bats a lash with her boyfriend hanging around beside her. Ever since they started dating officially, Namjoon’s been glued to her side. But Jihyo doesn’t mind. The company and conversations are welcome. Even the librarian finds him endearing. “When did you become interested in me?” Namjoon is seemingly perplexed by the question and their eyes meet as they stand between the thin aisle between two looming bookcases. “I don’t know. One moment, everything was fine and then the next, I started feeling this way.” Jihyo’s frowns. “Suddenly?” “It was a bit weird for me too, but then I realized I couldn’t stop thinking about you. It...hit me and it was intense, so I asked you out.” His smile softens, dimples creased into each side of his cheek. “Why?” Jihyo sighs and shakes her head. “No reason. It just seemed like you never liked me like that before or at least you never hinted at it.” “That’s true. I saw you as just a friend for the longest time.” Namjoon leans in, his smile sweet towards his girlfriend. “Is that such a bad thing?” Jihyo scoffs lightly but then shakes her head with a tiny smile. Maybe you’re right. Maybe she is overthinking it. “I just have to get used to it.” It’s that same afternoon that Jihyo walks home by herself — Namjoon busy with his other clubs and unable to accompany her. She doesn’t mind much, actually finding solace in her alone time. But Jihyo’s mind wanders and she realizes it’s been a long time since she’s hung out with you outside of class or library duty. Jimin’s monopolized you these days and as happy as she is to watch you giddy, she misses her best friend. 4:38 pm. Jihyo: wanna go out for ice cream or something 4:39 pm. Y/N: hell yeah!!! :D 4:39 pm. Y/N: omw home 4:39 pm. Y/N: wanna meet up there? Jihyo smiles to herself and turns down the familiar street to your house. The school’s boundary lines are narrow, so most of the students live in the same small neighbourhood. And considering that Jihyo’s been your friend since grade six, she’s no stranger to your house, the white mailbox, the gate, and the small yard that the pair of you used to play on. They’re all nostalgic memories to her. “About time!” she calls out when she sees you. You laugh, quickening your strides. “It only took me five minutes!” “On another date with Jimin?” Jihyo follows after you, through the door and up the stairs to your room. It’s quiet which only means your mom’s running errands and your dad’s not home from work yet. “We just went to a bookstore and grabbed food.” She laughs and drops her backpack by your bed. “Can you eat ice-cream then?” “Don’t you know there’s always room for dessert?” You grin while patting your stomach. “Speaking of which, I need to take a leak before we leave. Be right back.” She snorts and pulls out her phone to check her usual apps. But there’s nothing much to see aside from the string of heart emojis that Namjoon sends for no reason. She rolls her eyes, but smiles to herself. Namjoon’s an idiot. But he should be lucky he’s a cute one. Jihyo boredly wanders to your desk, eyes falling upon the shell pink container. She holds the candle up, glad that you actually liked the birthday present enough to burn half of it. Then she sets it down and picks up the lighter, rolling the wheel and observing the flame that sparks. She puts it down, looks over the polaroids you have strung on the wall, and then her eyes stray to a crime novel you have pushed on the side of your desk. Jihyo smiles to herself in amusement. She didn’t know you picked up reading recently. Curious, she flips it over to read the synopsis of the book, but then something underneath catches her eye. A baby pink notebook. The Love Pages. Her brows furrow and she discards the crime novel to the side in favour of the magnetizing pull coming from the notebook. She’s curious. Her intuition forces her to look. Jihyo turns the notebook over, and she becomes more and more bewildered as she reads the rules. As she reads the warning. Then, she flips it open. At the same time you return. “J-Jihyo?” You’re frozen at the door. “Y/N. What is this?” “Nothing.” You damn yourself for not putting the notebook in the drawer, for not bringing it with you like you so often do. You forgot about taking it with you this morning when you were in a rush to get ready and now you’re paying the price for your mistake. You take two wide strides across the floor to snatch— But Jihyo’s grip remains firm. She doesn’t let you rip the notebook from her hands. Her tight hold crinkles the corners of the pages. “Y/N.” Jihyo’s eyes meet yours. Cold. Firm. “What is this?” You release your sigh and your arm comes to your side. “Remember when we were cleaning out the storage room of the library two months ago? I found it there and it works. I know it’s hard to believe, but it works, Jihyo.” It takes a second for the words to sink in. But then it hits Jihyo like a freight train, slamming into her form, smashing into her brain. She doesn’t want to believe it — not when it’s so outrageous and outlandish — but it all clicks. Everything finally makes sense. “Is this….how you got Namjoon to go out with me?” Her pupils trace his name on the lined paper and then the straight lines of her own name. Jihyo looks up at you, colour drained from her face. She whispers as if someone could overhear, “Is this how you got Jimin to go out with you?” “I wrote it as a joke first.” Your voice is pitched as you frantically explain, “but then Jimin started to pay attention to me and the next day, he even asked me out! I...I didn’t think it worked but then Hoseok came home and he was about to get divorced, Jihyo. It was really bad. But I wrote their names in and they’re fine now. See? It works and it’s a good thing!” She shakes her head slowly, connecting the dots. “You wrote my name in it...and you didn’t even ask me.” “I know and I’m sorry.” Your palms are clammy. You’re not sure why she’s so upset with you, why she’s giving you such a horrified look as if you did something so wrong. “But I didn’t know if you would believe me and since it worked, I thought...why not.” “Why not?! You didn’t ask for my consent! I didn’t want this! I can’t believe you did this, Y/N!” “What do you mean you didn’t want this?” It’s your turn to be upset — if anything, you did Jihyo a favour. You were looking out for her as her friend. “You liked Namjoon for the longest time! I did this for you!” “This isn’t what I wanted!” Jihyo’s voice is shrill and you flinch. “This is so wrong, Y/N. This is so fucked.” “How? We got what we wanted, didn’t we?!” “But have you ever thought about the other side?! Have you ever thought about them?” she asks, coming face to face with you. “You’ve made everything artificial! Why would you go against their will and control them like this?” “It’s not against their will!” “It is!” Jihyo screams, voice straining in her throat. “Namjoon only saw me as a friend and nothing more, and Jimin didn’t even know you!” Her words reverberate in your ears. Jimin didn’t even know you. Your fist curls as you tremble. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as tears threaten at your lash line. You can’t believe she just said that, that she can be so ungrateful. She doesn’t get it. And you thought out of anyone, Jihyo would be the one who would understand you most. “How do you get rid of it?” she demands, thrusting the notebook to your face. “How?!” “You….have to erase the names.” “Then fucking do it!” “Fine! Move!” You push her aside and press the book to your desk, grabbing the pencil that nearly rolls off. You take the eraser end and rub her name and Namjoon’s from the paper. Fine. If she wants you to erase it, you’ll erase it. But you know she’ll come running back to you to write it in again. You scrub the names hard enough that the shiny surface of the paper dulls. Hard enough that the pink eraser bits fill the page. That your hand physically hurts. You show her when you’re done. “There. Happy?” “Erase Jimin’s name.” “What?” By sheer instincts, you pull back and press the notebook to you. “No.” “Y/N. This is crazy. This is so wrong. You’re violating your morals for—” “I have no morals,” you cut her off. She can yell at you, shame you, make you erase what you did for her. But you draw the line here. “Don’t you realize, Jihyo? You said it yourself. Jimin never looked twice at me. And I know he would’ve never asked me out. He would’ve never gone on that date, he would’ve never made me his girlfriend. He would’ve never told me he loves me.” “Y/N—” “I’ve never been loved or looked at like this before.” You swallow hard, eyes stinging, the lump in your throat makes it hard to talk. Most of all, your heart aches. “For the first time in my life, I’ve actually had someone like me back. For the first time in my life, I’ve had someone love me like that. Without this notebook, it would’ve been impossible.” “But you can’t force him—” “I’m not forcing him to do anything!” Blood curdles at the back of your throat. You wish someone else was in the house, then they could rush upstairs and take Jihyo away from you. Away from threatening your happiness. “That’s not how the Love Pages works!” She steps forward, arm extending. “Then if that’s true, erase his name.” You flinch away from her. “I will never erase Jimin’s name!” “Y/N!” — “Leave me alone!” You try to push past her, but Jihyo grabs the notebook. Your attempt to rip it from her grip and shove her away is ultimately futile. Jihyo’s grabbed hold of the edge and she’s not letting go. In your desperation, you catch a fistful of her hair and she stomps on your foot, shouting ‘bitch!’ at you. You cry aloud, wonder why it’s so hard for you to be happy. You love him. Your hands are slipping, but you untangle your fingers from Jihyo’s head and manage to seize the cover with your right hand. The notebook flips open, papers dangling downwards between your struggle. Jihyo screams for you to let go, that this is crazy, but you ignore her. She knows nothing. You love Jimin. And all you want is for him to love you back. The pair of you yank back and forth. When it looks like you’re about to win, Jihyo snags a page near the back. And it rips as you snatch it towards you. The paper tears. You both stumble to the ground from the force of your grasps. Your own hand slams into your mouth, bruising your lip. Jihyo across from you has her hair in a disarray and you’re horrified to find her holding her eye. She cusses again, tone venomous. The notebook falls beside you, the empty white page fluttering in between. It’s silent as you two hyperventilate. Then Jihyo stands. She brushes past you, roughly grabbing her bag. “Suit yourself. But don’t get me involved anymore. I want no part of this.” The girl stomps out and you don’t look behind you. You don’t race after her, tell her to wait, explain that there’s a misunderstanding. Because there isn’t. You already said your piece. You allow the slamming of the front door to echo. But you do get up to watch her from the window. She acts like this is your fault, that you did something so horrible to her when what you did for her was a miracle. She’s the ungrateful bitch. Self-righteous in the dumbest ways. And you hope she never comes back. // Even when your anger has subsided, you know there are certain things that can’t be forgiven. Jihyo ignores you when you glance in her direction, when you move past her, when you stand in front of her. At school and lunch, she hangs out with the other girls, never once sparing you a look or the friendly smile she gives to her new friends. And it’s a change that others notice. “Is everything okay?” your classmate asks curiously. “Did you and Jihyo have a fight or something?” Your bruised lip and the skin around her eye blossomed blue speaks for itself. “Something like that.” You muster a smile. “But I’m fine.” “Oh. Well, make up soon then.” But you highly doubt that’ll happen. If she wants to be a bitch, then you can be one too. You can ignore her. You can pretend she doesn’t exist….. But unlike Jihyo, it’s always been harder for you to be cold. Not when you’ve spent so many years and made countless memories together. So you’re unable to resist when Namjoon comes by during the last shift of your library duty — one that you know she’s arranged to be absent at. “Do you know where she is?” Yet, the tall brunette merely shakes his head. “Sorry, I don’t. Jihyo...actually broke up with me yesterday, so….yeah….” “Oh. I’m...I’m sorry to hear that, Namjoon.” He smiles. “It’s okay. It was pretty mutual.” You watch him leave, not batting a single lash, without a single trace of heartbreak on his features and then you divert your vision. You know things will never be the same for them again. Jihyo and Namjoon might never become as friendly as they were prior to their relationship. But you also know she’s wrong. You never forced Jimin to do anything. You didn’t force him to have feelings for you. That’s not how the Love Pages works— “BOO!” A hand comes down on your shoulder and a scream tears out of your throat as you spin around. You nearly fall on the ground from startlement, but Jimin latches onto your wrist, stabilizing you. “Y-You almost scared me to death!” “Sorry, sorry.” Your boyfriend laughs. “I didn’t know you would be so scared.” “Don’t do that again,” you scold, heart rate steadying. “How long were you even following me for?” “Not that long. You seemed a bit off. I had to make sure you got home safe and didn’t talk to anyone else.” Jimin syncs his steps into yours, familiar with the route you take home after accompanying you so many times. But as silence simmers between the pair of you, he takes notice. Jimin slips his hand into yours, slowing down. “Y/N. What’s wrong?” You shake your head, words caught in your throat. You don’t know what to say, where to start, what you can tell him. How he’d even react. And it’s all too overwhelming for you to bear. Against your will, you burst into tears. The tsunami of emotions — anger, sorrow, regret — they clog your chest and shed in the form of teardrops. It hangs on your lashes, drips down your cheeks, clouds your vision. And the only comfort you receive is when Jimin reaches out, guiding your head to his shoulder. “J-Jihyo….she….she hates me…” You hang onto him, tight fists clutching onto Jimin’s jacket. You were scared — scared when your only friend turned their back against you and found others to replace you so quickly, frightened when you realized just how isolated you are, petrified when you had a taste of what it’s like to walk the halls alone, to eat alone, to sit alone. To be alone. To be abandoned. If Jimin leaves too, you’ll truly have no one. “It’s okay,” he hums, locking you in a secure embrace. “You don’t need anyone but me.” Jimin consoles you without needing to be asked. He soothes you and says the things you’ve yearned to hear since yesterday. You return his hug, quieting your sobs and strengthening your resolve. You can’t give him up. // You’re not sure why it took you so long to realize what is and isn’t important. In a blink of an eye, the entire world seems to have shifted. The things — people — you treasured can so easily throw you away and all this time, you didn’t know. You’ve been played. Time wasted. “Y/N, are you home?” your mom calls from the kitchen as the front door shuts and she stumbles out with a frown. “You’re later than usual today. Were you with someone? Jihyo?” “I was with Jimin,” you sigh, kicking off your shoes. “Where did you go?” “Nowhere. We just talked.” “About what?” “Nothing! God, can you stop asking me questions?!” You stomp up the stairs. Your mother exhales in frustration and calls after you, “Well get yourself looking nice! Your brother and Irene are coming over for dinner tonight! Are you listening to me?! Don’t ignore me, Y/N!” But you do ignore her as you zip to your room and shut the door. Finally, you’re able to get a moment of peace and quiet, and once it settles, you take two large strides across your room. You swiftly slip the Love Pages out of your backpack and into the bottom drawer of your desk. Without blinking, you grab the half-burnt pink candle and dump it into the bin. I can’t believe you did this, Y/N! Your bottom lip trembles but your determination hardens as you begin tearing off the strung polaroids on your wall. You’re suffocated just looking at them. Bitch! Your sixteenth birthday spent with Jihyo — sleepovers in seventh grade — summers spent at summer camp. You rip the photographs all off and they follow the candle in the trash. Suit yourself. But don’t get me involved anymore. I want no part of this. An unpleasant feeling sits at the pit of your stomach and you flop down onto your bed. You shut your eyes before being plagued by the moment she turns her back, how she passes by the hall, giggling with other classmates. They’re moments played over and over until you feel nauseous. “It’s fine,” you mutter to yourself and repeat, “It’s fine.” You’re graduating soon. You can finally get away from here. You can move far away, to a university out of the city. You open your eyes to stare at the ceiling, tears stinging. And you inhale a staggering breath. Soon. You can go with Jimin and the two of you can vanish together. You’ll never have to think about your lost best friend or what you did. You can leave the Love Pages behind.

It’s a permanent turning point. Your friendship with Jihyo never mends or is even a topic of conversation. Sometimes, you can feel her looking at you from the corner of her eye as if she’s judging you for the secret she knows. One she’s aware no one would believe her for, but that you both know what you did. You don’t speak to each other, merely passing by in the same spaces and no one asks. After all, friends drift apart all the time. Everyone merely finds a new normal and so do you. Jimin becomes your new best friend. Sometimes, you eat lunch with his friends. Sometimes, it’s solely with him. The two of you continue going on dates and when you’re not, it’s conversations through text or shy talks on the phone. And sometimes— “C’mon, no one’s home.” “Yeah, but what if your mom returns and finds me in her son’s bedroom? That would be a bad look.” He laughs. “I promise she won’t. And even if she did, she’d still love you.” “I don’t know about that, Jimin.” “I’ll still love you and that’s what’s important, right?” Jimin pulls you into his cozy house and before you know it, your back is pressed against his soft sheets as he hovers over you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. No teasing words are spoken when the boy leans down to capture his lips with yours. It’s an eager kiss where you’re able to relish in the softness and the warmth of Jimin’s skin. Your arms automatically loop around his torso and you feel his smile against you. Jimin steals all the breath from your lungs and you’re left gasping as his mouth trails from your jaw to your neck. “J-Jimin,” you pant his name with swollen lips, leaning into his touch. “I missed you.” “What’d yo..u mean? I saw you today.” “Seeing isn't enough.” His mouth sucks into the juncture of your neck, marking it red to his liking and knowing it’ll bloom blue. Jimin lifts himself and smiles tenderly. “Tell me you’re mine, Y/N.” His gaze is soft, full of affection and endearment, and it swells your heart. “I’m yours.” “That’s right. You’re mine,” he whispers and kisses you again. He fiddles with the hem of your plush sweater and not long after, he’s tugging your camisole down. Sometimes you stay in Jimin’s bed, limbs tangled with one another’s. Other times, he’s busy with soccer practice and you come home by yourself— “Huh, did someone….move my cardigan?” You frown, wondering why it’s draped over the back of your chair and not the bed. Maybe your mom was trying to clean up for you again. “Hello?” you call, poking your head out your door. There isn’t an answer. You scoff to yourself, wondering what you were expecting. Anyway, life for the most part is normal again. With Jimin by your side, he’s become a pillar of your strength and a reason for your resiliency. He is the many of your firsts. And he makes you look forward to even better days. “Hey. Jimin?” “Hmm?” The pair of you are laying in his small bed and you shift your head to find him gazing at you with tender eyes and a softened smile. It tickles your own lips and you stare at him — his brown kaleidoscopic irises, his dark strands of hair nearly pricking into them. It’s quiet in his house with his parents gone and the fuzzy afternoon sunlight casting through the window makes you sleepy. If you don’t blink, you can spot the specs of dust floating in the air. “What are you thinking about?” “Nothing much.” Your voice is a murmur and you inhale gently, senses filled with Jimin’s comforting scent. “Do you think...you would’ve loved me before this school year?” “Of course, I would.” Jimin smiles as if you’re silly. “We’re meant to be.” He twines his hand with yours, fingers interlaced, and your sleepy smile stretches into cheeks. But Jihyo’s cursed you. She’s done the worst possible thing. She’s planted a seed in your mind. A seed of doubt. And it’s sprouted, taken root, embedded and coiled deep enough that you can’t tug it out. Even beautiful moments like these, you’re plagued by her words. You can't help wondering if this is really Jimin or the Love Pages’ doing. It’s chilly one night as you’re walking by yourself, going home from the convenient store down several blocks. The street lights are bright, illuminating both your figure and casting your shadow on the brick. But then you halt. Feet against the asphalt. Turning around. You swear, you felt eyes— Ring. Your phone rings suddenly and you jolt in startlement. You fumble before pulling it out and pressing it to your ear. “Hello?” You continue walking, except this time, your steps quicken. “Jimin?” “What’re you doing?” “Nothing,” you exhale, feeling comforted with him on the other line. “I’m so happy to hear your voice.” He laughs boyishly and you smile to yourself, practically able to hear his grin. Jimin sighs quietly, “Why does that make me feel happy?” “Did you finish running errands with your dad? Where are you?” “I’m always with you,” he quips playfully and you roll your eyes. It’s a joke, but as you peek over your shoulder, unsettlement sticks in your stomach. It feels like you’re always being watched. // “Jimin.” You stare up at the popcorn ceiling of his room, eyes running over the pointed ridges and dips, and drawing constellations from your imagination. “Do you ever feel like you’re being watched?” He turns his head, having been folding his laundry on the floor. “What do you mean?” “The other night, I was grabbing something for my dad at the convenient store and while I was walking home, it felt like….someone was watching me.” “Was there?” he asks. “I don’t know. I didn’t see anyone.” “Maybe you’re just being paranoid,” Jimin comforts with a small smile and finishes folding his last shirt. He comes up on the bed and you make room for him to lay next to you. “Or maybe it’s your guardian angel protecting you.” You scoff. “What guardian angel?” “Me,” he giggles softly and reads your expression. “Would that be so bad?” Your brows furrow and you go silent. Blood drains from your face and confusion makes your head dizzy. It’s outrageous to ask, but you do so— “Were you the one following me, Jimin?” He hums, “Maybe.” Instantly, you push your boyfriend’s hand away that was playing with your hair and you sit up. “I’m being serious.” Jimin follows after you, getting up. “I don’t get why you’re so upset.” “It’s weird! You’re stalking me!” “I’m protecting you,” he corrects and his voice softens. “I’m doing this for your own good, Y/N. I see people on the news getting kidnapped all the time. I just…I don’t want you to be taken away or put in danger. I don’t think I could live with myself if you got hurt and I wasn’t around to help.” You press your palms against your forehead, not knowing where to even begin. After a beat, your voice croaks, “How long have you been doing this for?” Jimin shrugs. “A while.” His intentions might come from a good place, but it makes you nauseous to think about how Jimin’s been following you. How he’s been tracing your steps, watching you from behind. And you didn’t even know. You don’t want to ask what else he’s done. “I’m not going to get hurt, Jimin. You don’t need to follow me like that.” “But you don’t know when something might happen. No one knows. I just want to be there for you.” Your thoughts are in a disarray, not sure how you should even reason with him. Shouldn’t it be common sense? At your ongoing silence, Jimin reaches out to hug you. But you stand, slipping away from his arms. “I think I need to go home.” “Wait. Y/N.” Jimin’s agile and swift, capturing your wrist in his hand before you’ve grabbed your bag. He stops you in your tracks. “Don’t be mad. I’m sorry!” “I just need a moment by myself, okay?” You try to shake him off. “I-I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Please. Don’t leave me,” his voice drops into a trembling whisper and your head whips around. Your eyes meet his, teary and shaking. Jimin suddenly gets onto his knees, cradling your hand in both of his hands and pressing it to his nose as if he’s praying. He begs, “Don’t leave me.” But his affectionate behaviour only serves to freak you out more. It’s more than bizarre and you quickly tear your hand back, pulling it to your chest and out of his grip. “You’re not being yourself, Jimin.” You grab your bag, turning around and making it to the door— “I love you!” he declares loudly, startling you. His sheer desperation radiates waves and you turn around with wide eyes. Jimin looks like he’s in the midst of a break down. “You’re mine! Is it so wrong to look after you like this? I did it because I love you. I love you, Y/N.” You clutch your bag against your body and divert your vision away from the boy. “Then...promise me you won’t do that again,” you murmur after a handful of uncomfortable seconds have passed, “I’m safe and fine. Secretly following me is excessive and it makes me…..uncomfortable.” Jimin begrudgingly nods. You slowly close the distance and hug him, allowing him to sniffle into your shoulder. He’s fine with letting you leave after the pair of you have made up. Yet, when you arrive home the next day, you swear you feel eyes on your backside. It’s easy to pretend nothing’s wrong when you haven’t noticed before. But once you lock the front door and make it to your room, you nimbly peek out the window. You catch Jimin standing across the street, expressionless. // The situation isn’t mentioned again in fear of another dramatic confrontation, but it dwells. A disturbing discomfort weighs on your shoulders and every sweet call of your name on his lips is startling. You’re not sure why you’re like this, how you can go back to how it used to be, when a mere glance from Jimin had your heart soaring and the butterflies in your tummy tickling. It feels like the rose filter of your eyes have rubbed off. And that you’ve found out the world is darker than the pink shades you previously saw it as. You leave the bathroom, hands still a bit damp in spite of drying them— And you flinch when you see dark strands, brown irises and rounded cheeks standing in the hallway, leaning against the lockers. Jimin smiles. “You’re about to have lunch, right?” You nod. “I was thinking we could eat together today.” “With your friends?” “No. Just us.” As the two of you walk, Jimin slings an arm around your shoulders. It feels heavy instead of warm and comforting. It’s quiet too, until he breaks it. “Have you been avoiding me, Y/N?” You shake your head. “Good. I wouldn’t want you to be distant.” He lovingly presses his head to yours, nuzzling into your hair. “That’s not what a good girlfriend does.” You swallow hard. The food ends up tasting like nothing. This isn’t right. This isn’t the boy next door you fell in love with years ago. Obsessive, controlling, a crazed look in his eye, desperate enough to beg on his knees — this isn’t Jimin. And you know the cause. You know why and how this happened. But you can’t bear to acknowledge the truth. Even when you’ve been plunged so deep, you still want to savour this a little longer. This impossibility. This dream that you’ve been granted. Tears fill your eyes and you gaze at him. Your boyfriend notices your softened expression that searches his face and he smiles, lifting his hand to pat your head. He prepares to walk off to class, but you take the leap while diverting your eyes. “Jimin. A-After graduation…...we need to talk.” His hand comes to curl around your wrist, firm enough that you can’t escape from. His voice drops an octave. “Are you breaking up with me?” You shake your head. “I’m going to tell you the truth.” Jimin’s brows furrow hard and he leans in close. “What’s the truth?” “I’ll tell you afterwards. Just wait a little longer,” you plead, “be patient with me. Please. I love you.” He stares and then nods. Jimin embraces you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders to console the turmoil bubbling underneath your skin. No one’s around to witness the intimate moment, so you allow yourself to savour it. “I love you too. I won’t ever let you go.” You nod against him. And you really hope what he says is true. You hope he loves you for you and not because it’s the effect of the Love Pages. // “I’m home!” you call out and shut the door. But instead of hearing your dad’s greeting or your mother’s nagging, there’s a smooth timbre coming from the living room that’s all too familiar. It raises the goosebumps around your arms and you stalk the noise, feet sliding against the floor. “—thinking of maybe renting an apartment—” “Jimin?” You stop in your tracks, bewildered at the sight of him sitting on the couch with your parents across from him, mugs and half-empty glasses of water on the coffee table in between. “W-What are you doing here?” “Oh, sit down! Jimin’s just discussing your plans with us,” your mom says with an endeared smile. “I didn’t know the two of you had so many arrangements for after you graduate, Y/N!” “You should’ve kept us in the loop,” your dad states with a satisfied smile. You swallow hard, approaching on weak knees and collapsing beside your boyfriend. “I’m going to the same university as you are,” Jimin informs with a proud smile, hands knitted together and posture straight. He’s the picture perfect son-in-law, an image crafted to perfection. “What? I mean….h-how do you even know what school I’m going to?” “I saw the acceptance letter, silly.” Jimin smiles. “I can’t believe you hid it from me.” “It was supposed to be a surprise!” you lie frantically, in a rush and spilling out the sentence before your brain can catch up. And once it does, you add in a laugh and quirk your head to the side. “I was waiting for you to get your round of acceptance letters.” Jimin believes you and apologizes for ruining the surprise to which you brush off and tell him it’s okay, that it isn’t a big deal. The crisis is averted until he presents another idea— “We should probably move in together. I’ll have to move out anyway and you will too.” Your mouth opens but your mother exclaims, “That’s a great idea! Jimin’s a good boy who will protect you, Y/N. It’ll make me feel a lot better about you moving so far away.” Jimin smiles. He stays for dinner and your mom fusses about to make sure his stomach is stuffed with her home cooking while your dad reminisces and tells old stories. But you don’t hear anything or taste the food you’ve grown sick of. It’s bland and white noise buzzes against your eardrums— “Y/N.” Jimin slips a hand on top of yours and you flinch before catching yourself. “Y/N. What’s wrong?” “Nothing.” You realize your parents have left the table. “I’m fine.” But you fail to notice how Jimin stops smiling when you turn away. // The long awaited day arrives on a brisk morning. You’ve imagined it countless times before — when your head was laid on your desk, when your face was buried in your textbook, when your hand hurt from gripping your pencil. Graduation is the liberation day, another step to moving forward. After years of schooling, it marks another end and another beginning. You always envisioned getting ready with Jihyo, looking at Jimin from faraway, being swept by the crowds and walking away without too many regrets. In many ways, your fantasy is better and worse in reality. It’s worse in the ways that Jihyo doesn’t look at you. When you call her name, catch up to her, she doesn’t so much as acknowledge who you are. She doesn’t even say her last goodbyes. She doesn’t promise to keep in touch. It’s uncomfortable, for you and those around who witness. Your parents aren’t one of them, but they bombard you with questions when you tell them not to call out to her. Questions you beg them not to ask. Jihyo doesn’t even give you the chance to admit your mistakes. So you let her be. You’re not sure what you expected when she’s the master of holding grudges. All you know is that until the end, you did your part on trying to make amends. The rest is on her. You hope she doesn’t regret it. Nevertheless, there are silver linings. Instead of having to peek at Jimin through the masses, of having him accidentally in the background of pictures, he’s by your side. Your crush is yours to call, yours to hold. But a weight still dwells on the back of your mind. As time passes, you know it’s getting worse and worse. He’s becoming less like Jimin and more like a person you no longer recognize. He’s grown distant with his friends as he solely focuses on you — calling you, texting you, asking where you are, telling you how excited he is to move in with you and how you’ll finally be together. And the more Jimin surrounds himself with you, the more sure you become. You have to erase his name from the Love Pages. Even if you don’t want to. There are consequences of the Pages. You’ve stared at the papers, the names, the rules enough to know. The more naturally compatible a couple is, the more effective the Love Pages will be. The less compatible a couple is, the more undesired consequences will arise. And this is a consequence. If Jimin’s worsening obsession is because of the Love Pages, then you need to stop it. You have to vanquish your doubts about him being with you before this future together begins. You want him to love you for you. “Y/N! What are you doing standing there? Move in!” Hoseok is holding his phone to his face, camera open and ready to capture a picture of you and Jimin together. Irene stands beside him with an enormous grin, temporarily holding the bouquet of flowers they gifted to you. In the meanwhile, your parents and Jimin’s are chatting away. “Okay! Perfect! Ready? One, two three!” Your smile is stiff. No matter how hard you try to maintain it, it twitches and never reaches your eyes. When it’s done, Jimin holds your hand and pulls you to his family. Jimin’s dad is friendly and open while his mom is more soft-spoken, but her features are reminiscent of Jimin's. You’re moved when she gives you a bouquet of peonies on top of the flowers Hoseok and Irene, saying how she just bought some from the stand. “Congratulations, sweetheart.” “Thank you.” Jimin playfully pouts. “You didn’t get me any?” His mom lightly scoffs and bats at him. “You don’t even like flowers.” “I swear Y/N’s gonna be drowning in them by the end of this,” he sighs and everyone laughs. Jimin seems so normal on the surface — no one knows what you do. // Your heart is thumping against your rib cage hard enough to bruise. It’s violent in your ear drums and you could clap to the rhythm of your pulse if you chose. But unfortunately, it isn’t from excitement. Not the feeling of rushing down a roller coaster or falling infatuated within seconds. It’s different from the flutter of a first love or the anxiousness of a class presentation. It’s dread. Hope. Remorse. The day has come — time is up. You’ve finally managed to pull Jimin aside in the chaos of graduation celebrations, alone in the house with your parents over at your brother’s. There’s no room for disturbances, for interruptions, no way you can back down from the promise you made. The two of you enter your room and you inhale a deep breath as you turn to face him. Jimin’s brows are furrowed and he searches your expression. “What is it? What have you been wanting to tell me? You know I don’t like it when you keep secrets from me.” Wordlessly, you stride to your desk, pull the bottom drawer and reach below the file folders. Jimin is solemn as he watches you and you pull out what started this all— A pastel pink notebook and in small text at the front, simple words read ‘Love Pages’. You brace yourself, grip tight enough to crinkle the cover. But then you hand it to Jimin. He deserves to see it for himself. Jimin takes it, curious and confused. “What is this?” “You have a right to know what I did, Jimin,” you murmur quietly as he studies the notebook, flips it over, reads the rules, the warning. “I found this notebook by accident and I know I’m going to sound crazy, but it works. Whoever’s name that’s written in it will fall in love with the second written name. And….I-...I wrote your name back in February.” Jimin’s frown deepens. He flips open the pages. You’re too ashamed to look at him. Your downcast head avoids his glance. “I’m sorry,” you snivel and repeat, “I’m sorry.” You’re not sure how many times will be enough — you don’t think it’ll ever be enough. “I….I’m the one who made you this way, Jimin. I liked you and I thought this was a joke and that it would be harmless, so I wrote your name in it and it ended up working...and I was so happy for the longest time,” your voice breaks and you realize your cheeks are wet. “But this isn’t you.” He’s gone completely silent and you swallow hard, the need to explain compulsive. “The way you’re acting, the person you are when you’re with me, it’s—...it’s a consequence of the Love Pages because we’re not compatible.” You’re sobbing and your heart aches as the words choke out of your closing throat. “And I tried to force something that isn’t compatible. So I’m so...so sorry. I made you lose yourself. I...I shouldn’t have ever done this. So I’m going to erase your name. I’m going to undo all of this, I promise.” Jimin stares at you, lips in a straight line, eyes dimmed. “I know you wouldn’t lie to me, Y/N,” he starts and you muster the courage to look at him, “If what you say is true and if this notebook made me love you, then it’s the greatest thing to ever exist.” “What?” “I got the chance to love you, to be with you when I otherwise wouldn’t have, Y/N.” Jimin’s eyes catch the evening sun through the window and his irises glimmer as the corner of his mouth quirks into a smile. “Why would I want to erase my name?” You shake your head. “This isn’t right, Jimin.” You’re not sure how he drew this conclusion on his own and you quickly approach, but then Jimin holds the notebook up. He extends his arm high above his head and out of your reach. “Jimin,” you beg him, “snap out of it.” “I love you, Y/N. Do you not love me?” You try to reach up, get closer to the pink notebook held mockingly above you. But Jimin swiftly dodges your attempt and rounds towards the desk. “I love you, Jimin. Trust me. I really do love you. But it shouldn’t have been this way. I shouldn’t have made our relationship artificial.” “But I love you, Y/N,” he argues, becoming angry. “That’s not artificial!” “If you love me then p-prove it. Let me erase the names!” You lurch forward, fingertips finally gripping onto the edges, but victory is short an inch. Jimin grabs it hard enough to wrinkle the entire book and all its pages. He screams, “No! I won’t let you erase it! I love you and I won’t risk falling out of love with you!” “Stop this, Jimin, please, I’m begging you, let go,” you desperately spew through gritted teeth and it’s all too familiar— Pushing one another, trying to rip it from his grip, grabbing hold of edges, not letting go. You’ve once stood in the same spot, having the same fight with Jihyo. And it’s an irony that makes your mouth bitter. She was right — and you wonder if she would laugh if she knew. But the difference between then and now is that winning twice is harder than once. Jimin’s backed up against your desk, nearly falling on it but his right hand comes to cushion himself. Though as it does, he feels the objects on your desk. In desperation, he grabs whatever he can to succeed, to perhaps distract you with. And he finds the lighter. It takes one second. One for Jimin’s strength to easily overpower yours. For him to yank it hard. For the smooth, pink cover and its white pages filled with endless names to slip from your fingertips. For Jimin to scrape his thumb across the wheel of the lighter. And for you to hear the flickering flare, the rasping sparks, the quiet hum of the orange flame igniting. Jimin brings the fire to the notebook. He burns it, sealing the Love Pages together. “No!” Your last attempt to grab it is futile. You’re left to drop to your knees. The blood-curdling shriek in your ears is unrecognizable until you realize it's yours. Your pupils reflect the tangerine hue of the fire, the ash of the pages curling together, the soft pink that turns to black cinders fluttering down like Spring cherry blossoms in front of you. Jimin’s smile is sweet. “The only way to remove my name is to erase it, right? Look, Y/N. This way, we can always be together.” A tear drips from your lash down your cheeks. Your mouth opens but the sob doesn’t come from your throat already sore from yelling, screaming, apologizing. Instead, you cry like a marble statue shocked in time. Jimin drops the burning corner of the Love Pages and the last of the binding melts into your carpet. He lowers himself and wipes away the tears on your cheeks with the pad of his thumb. “You made me better,” he coos, “the Love pages made me better.” Jimin sighs and caresses your head gently. “If this is what the issue was then I’m actually relieved. I thought you were going to try to break up with me. This obstacle means nothing to me, Y/N. It means nothing to us.” He laughs and quickly reassures, “Soon enough, we’ll move away. No one will be able to find us. We can finally get away from….this. All these distractions. I can finally have you all for myself.” He embraces you, arms wrapped around your body, propping his chin on top of your shoulder and breathing in the scent of your hair. It’s suffocating. Your eyes dim. Jimin’s trapped you. He’s caught you in his web.

You think about running. Even when he follows you half across the country under the guise of continuing education, you think about running in the middle of the night while he’s asleep. You fantasize about slowly slinking the arm slung around your body off, moving his dead weight from you, or moving during the day when he’s forced to be away. Before it’s too late. Before it worsens. You can still escape. But somehow, Jimin always knows where you are. He texts at night when you’re gone for too long. He calls when you’re at the grocery store to buy certain things he forgot. And you know for a fact, he would track you down and look for you until his last breath if you tried to flee. But your hesitance is not only because of him. It’s your fault too. A part of you always stops, with one foot out the door of the apartment and your bag slung over your shoulder in the middle of the night. You’re unable to abandon the faded image of the boy you used to long for. Unable to stop the guilt from overwhelming you that you began this. That you’re the one who reduced him to this crazed state from your own selfishness. And the only way to undo what’s happened to him is gone. For just a moment, you wanted to be loved. But what was an innocent wish morphed into a sin you blinded yourself too. All those months ago, had you done nothing, had you sat still, it would’ve never been like this. And that haunts you. You can’t bear to abandon Jimin, to try to get away, to call the police and attempt an escape. You can’t make him surrender his entire life, disappoint his family, lose his scholarship, mark his history with red. You can’t make him lose more of himself than what he’s already lost. Jimin is both the benefit and the consequence you have to shoulder for the choices you made. “Y/N! Come here!” Your mother rushes you in for a hug and pastes a wet kiss on your cheek. “I’m so glad the two of you could make it back for your winter break! I missed you so much.” Jimin shadows you, dragging in the suitcases and your mother smiles at him. “Jimin! You too! Get in here!” She hugs him as he giggles and pats her back. The festive music plays in the background, your dad, brother and sister-in-law in the living room chatting away. But you don’t enter the warm room. Rather, you ascend the darkened staircase. The pitch black envelops your form until you reach for the knob of your old room. The door creaks as it swings open. Your room is undisturbed, just like you left it except for the thin layer of dust sitting on the furniture. You remember when you sat at the desk, when you knew absolutely nothing. Stiffly, you take two strides and sit back down on the creaking chair. You flick the table lamp on and off, watching how it illuminates the space before darkening it again, listening to the click of the button. Then, your eyes travel to the discarded lighter. You pick it up, rolling the wheel and observing the flame that sparks. A moment later, you put it down and instinctively from the habits you’ve built, you reach down to tug open the bottom drawer. As if you’ll see the Love Pages reappear. As if the notebook will sit right there as it did for so long. But instead, you notice a folded piece of lined paper tucked at the side. You take it out, studying the page in a transfixed state. The lines are a light blue, the white crisp and clean, but it’s completely torn on the side. You remember. “Erase Jimin’s name.” Jihyo all that time ago, tried to convince you to erase his name. You should’ve listened to her then, salvaged your friendship while you still could. But what was left of her and that fight was this page torn out of the Love Pages. You stare at it. The final evidence of such a notebook ever existing. And then you’re grabbing the pen on your desk. The ink bleeds on the page, letters feathering away, but you scratch it hard enough to hear, looping the names onto the paper, knowing it’s permanent— L/N Y/N Park Jimin Jimin shuffles into the room and notices your backside cowering over the desk. “Sweetheart, is there something wrong? Are you hiding something?” You turn from the chair and he’s startled from your enormous grin and your brightened eyes. You shake your head and run to him, lurching forward. “Jimin!” You throw your arms around his neck and he stumbles back from the impact of your embrace. “I love you so, so much.” It’s hard to express the feelings that have suddenly devastated you, so you tear yourself from him to kiss him. It’s an eager kiss, one where your mouths smack together, where you’re gripping his sweater, tasting him and trying to get as close as you can but to no avail. All you’re aware of is the need to have Jimin by your side. You might die without him here. When you pull away, he’s grinning, happy that you aren’t so distant anymore. “You love me, right?” “Of course, I do!” Jimin’s almost upset at the question. “Why would you even ask that?!” You laugh joyfully, the sound chortling from your throat. Your chest is rising and falling, pupils blown wide as your massive grin makes your cheeks ache. “Then you’re mine.” “That’s right. I’m yours.” You embrace Jimin again, arms wrapped tightly around his warm torso as your nose digs into his shoulder and his own arms cage your body. It feels like you’ve been sewn to each other by your skin and the thought makes you even more giddy. You love him so much, more than the whole world itself.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jimin angst #jimin fluff #bts angst #bts yandere #bts yandere AU #I know what you're thinking #two dark Jimin fics in a row???#yes lol #the schedule ended up working out that way so I hope y'all don't mind #the fluff will soon be returning to my blog

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ask-feederjin · 3 years

Note

Hi!!~~ <3 So... How much has Jungkook's physical condition changed?

Do you think he tires easily with physical tasks? I can only imagine him puffing all the time ><

Jin had just put the final revisions on a work project when a notification popped up on his computer.

“Hi!!~~ <3 So... How much has Jungkook's physical condition changed?

Do you think he tires easily with physical tasks? I can only imagine him puffing all the time ><”

Oh if only, Jin sighs softly. He wishes he could say that their youngest does, but that would be a lie. Either way, Anon needs an answer!

Oh, he wishes! Poor Jungkook has a ridiculously fast metabolism, much to his dismay. It was great for him when he was a gym rat, effortlessly maintaining his washboard abs. But now it is his ultimate curse.

We’ve been doing research on how to lower or, in Jungkook’s words, “completely ruin” his metabolism.

So far, we’ve chosen to have him switch to a completely sedentary activity level, bulk up on carbs, flip into “starvation mode” between stuffings and replacing that banana milk he likes to drink with soda. We also heard that lack of sleep can contribute to a drop in metabolism, but I vetoed that one. Jungkook may be willing to suffer sleep deprivation to get fatter, but that’s not something I’m willing to support.

On the topic of him getting tired… Hmm… I think it would only really happen if he was going out of his way to be active? Like, him just walking around or lifting basic things doesn’t phase him yet, but exercise on the other hand… Give me one second!

“Jungkook!” Jin called out.

“Yeah?” He heard back. It sounded like Jungkook had just woken up from a post breakfast nap.

“Could you come here please, baby?” Jin was now curious. How has his physicality changed in the past two months? Would he get out of breath easily? Or has his years of exercise and healthy eating still blocked that?

“Do I have to?” He whined. Jin felt butterflies in his stomach at just how lazy his boyfriend has gotten.

“Yes!” Jin laughed.

After what sounded like some shuffling and grunting, Jungkook sleepily wandered into Jin’s office.

“You never make me come to you…” The youngest complained halfheartedly, scratching his tummy.

“Forgive me just this once, your highness.” Jin snarked back. “I just wanted to… do a little test.”

Jungkook perked up the the word ‘test’. Jin knew he would never pass up an opportunity to prove himself.

“What do I need to do?” The younger man asked excitedly, watching as Jin pushed his rolling desk chair to the corner of the room.

“Well… first I’m going to need you to stand riiiight here. There, perfect!” Jin maneuvered the taller boy to stand right in front of his computer screen. “Wait just a second, babe.”

The screen suddenly changed from spreadsheets to a camera screen. Jin pressed record…

The video starts off in a well kept room. Orderly bookshelves line the background, tiny potted vines trailing down the fronts.

Pulling away from the screen, you catch a blurry glimpse of knobby knuckles and trimmed nails. Front and center stands a rather tall young man. He has short, shiny black hair and warm brown eyes. Said eyes are currently large with confusion.

The young man is wearing a rather ill-fitting set of pajamas. The bottoms fit well enough, but the top’s buttons are slightly strained. A soft looking paunch hangs out from the too small shirt, wobbling as the young man shifts uncertainly. He rests both hands on the mass, rubbing slowly.

“Okay, -ahem-.” You hear a man’s voice says off camera say. “Hello, everyone! This is the first video I’ll be uploading to the blog, yay! It was originally going to be the third month weigh in, but it seems I just couldn’t wait.”

The young man on screen chuckles a bit, relaxing at the lighthearted conversation.

The voice resumes speaking, “Either way! We’re here now! This is Jungkook, some of you might recognize his face from the profile section of the blog, but if you haven’t then here he is! Say hi, Kookie.”

Jungkook blushes, waving at the camera. “Hi guys… I’m uh, I’m Jungkook.”

…

“Oh! And I’m Jin!” The disembodied voice frantically shouts. Jungkook bursts into giggles. “I’m Jin! The owner of the blog! I’m also apparently an idiot.” Jin ducks his head into the camera, giving you an unattractive, sideways close up of his eyes and nose.

“Veryprofessional, Jin.” Jungkook grins teasingly.

Jin’s too-close head turns, presumably to glare at the focus of the video. “Yes, I am a professional thank you very much. Now take your shirt off, fatty.”

Jin walks to the side of the room again, giving you a nearly full view of Jungkook’s body. The young man blushes again, levity gone, and starts to unbutton his sleep shirt.

With each button undone, the fabric gratefully springs to the side. Soon the boy’s tan tummy lays bare, angry looking stretchmarks decorating the lower part of it.

Jungkook tosses his shirt off camera, breathing slowly and evenly. “Wh-what now?”

“Jiggle it.”

Jungkook’s breath hitched, eyes closing slightly. He brings both large hands to his jello like gut and proceeds to bounce it up and down. For a minute of two, he shakes it briefly, only to let go and wait for the jiggly mass to settle. He stares at the camera, as if he’s watching himself in the feedback footage.

One hand slides up to cup his soft chest, while the other slaps gently at his belly entranced by the bounce.

“Now, turn to your side.” Jin’s voice startles Jungkook out of his self exploration. Jin himself walks towards the now sideways Jungkook, pressing up against his back. Jin reaches his arms around Jungkook to lift the younger man’s pot belly. He squeezes, pinches and lets it drop to watch it wobble.

“Tsk tsk tsk…” He pokes a long finger into the pliant flesh. “Someone’s let himself go it seems…”

“Ah~! I- I have!” Jungkook moans. “I’m soooo lazy, and- and greedy.”

“Lazy is right you little piggy.” Jin pulls away from playing with the taller boy’s belly button, walking back off screen. “Why don’t we give our viewer’s a little show? See how out of shape you’ve really gotten?”

Jungkook can only nod, face a bright red.

“Gimme fifty jumping jacks.”

“Fifty?! Jin! That’s too many!” Jungkook gapes at the man off screen.

“You used to do sets of eighty not even a year ago, I’m sure your fat ass can manage one set of fifty.”

“I’ll try I guess…” Jungkook doesn’t look optimistic. He gets in position anyway and starts counting out loud.

“One, two, three, four, five, six…”

The up and down movement vigorously shakes his little jelly belly, truly revealing just how much fat had accumulated there.

“Fifteen, sixteen, seh-seventeen, eight -hah hah- eighteen…” The poor boy’s face was tomato red and shiny with sudden sweat. His arms keep perfect time, but his legs move less far apart with each jump.

“Nine-hah-teen, twenty!” Jungkook is huffing now, tiny breasts quaking each time he lands. He is so out of breath now that he only mutters what vaguely sounds like numbers with each jumping jack.

“Twenty one, twenty two, twenty three…” Jin picks up where the out of breath young man left off. “Come on tubby, you were doing this in your sleep six months ago! What happened?”

Jungkook is gasping now, arms waving less with each jump, feet not even moving apart. A drop of sweat hangs precariously off of a perky nipple, only to fall onto his gut not even a second later.

“Are you seriously this out of shape?” Jin sounds genuinely surprised now, instead of teasing. Jungkook plops onto the floor panting. His previously neat hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, neck and chest pink from effort. “Kookie, you only did 31 jumping jacks.”

“I- gasp- I can’t…” The chubby boy leans back against the bookshelf. “I’m too fat…”

“Oh no. I’ll be the one to tell you when you’re too fat. Right now?” Jin squats down and smacks Jungkook’s sweaty belly, eliciting a moan from the boy. “You’re barely overweight.”

“I’ll get bigger! I promise!” The younger man pleads, having seemingly forgotten about the fact that he’s being recorded.

“Bigger? Eating like you are now? I don’t think so. You’re going to have to pick up the pace if you want to be the fattest boy in the house. Even Hobi will get bigger than you at this rate.” Jin gave Jungkook’s red, sweaty paunch one last wobbling pat before standing back up again. Jungkook stays on the ground, not even bothering to hide the bulge in his pajama pants.

“Okay guys!” The older man addresses the camera, winking. “It looks like Jungkook can still do thirty one jumping jacks before he gives up. You could say his stamina isn’t what it used to be! I’m gonna get this little piggy back to bed now. I think the poor thing’ll need another nap after so much exercise. Thank you for watching!”

Jin leans forward

The screen goes black.

I went ahead and attached a video instead of just writing down the answer ^-^;

I hope you don’t mind using headphones, haha! It got a little steamy there for a second… I should really get a video editing program so I can cut out those bits of me turning the camera on and off. Maybe even use my phone next time or something.

Oh well, lessons for later.

I hope that answers your question, Anon!

#lavender//ask #lavender//jin #bts weight gain #bts feederism #fat jungkook #calling all jungkook stans #ooc: a little different than what I normally do! let me know if you guys want more 'videos' in the future...

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fan-of-encouragement · 3 years

Text

Honey I'm Still Free

This is a commissioned fic that @danniburgh wrote for me, and I'm absolutely In Love. Her commissions are open as of posting this, and she's amazing.

Marcus Pike × F!reader

No warnings, just fluff and mention of Marcus's past bad relationships.

He was new.

A new face to know.

And he was cheerful; almost too cheerful.

He was happy; you met him as a happy man, self realized, self assured, self-centered but not egotistical; he was kind, and he was good. And he was happy.

Marcus Pike arrived at the D.C. FBI office and you were the one that gave him the welcome tour; in between directions and pointings at where which room was located and who worked where, he told you almost everything about himself and that kicked off an unexpected friendship. One that began inside the four walls of his office and the four walls of yours, and the glass walls of the shared conference room that separated them and that most often than not, was used as a lunch room.

When you met Marcus, he was a once divorced, newly engaged man that was waiting patiently for his bride to arrive and live with him what he described as a life he wanted; he told you everything he had to tell about his girlfriend and how he felt, deep inside of him, that she was the one.

Until she broke up with him.

Then, as if by magic, or as if someone had flicked a switch, Marcus changed.

You didn’t understand, whenever you analyzed it, why a woman would leave a man like him; whenever you put a little bit of thought on the matter you came to the same conclusion: there was no good reason. The truth of the matter was, even having met Marcus for no more than a month when that went down, that he was a good man. And everyone that walked around him or worked with him or even talked to him knew it.

Marcus Pike was a good man with a good, kind, warm soul that radiated nothing but care and love for others; he was stern and he was good at his job; he managed a team like no other agent you saw before but, at the end of the workday; when all the reports had been signed, when all the field agents had called in and Marcus lit his desk lamp to finish the last of the paperwork of the day, when the floor was quiet enough to hear the cars drive sporadically on the highway next to the building, he was craving for something more. Something he didn’t have and he was desperate for. Love.

Six months into you knowing Marcus, as he laughed at a bad joke you told him, with his head thrown back and his lids closed and the wrinkles on the sides of his eyes showing at full contrast, you realized you had fallen in love with him.

But you didn’t fight it; it felt right. You knew he was still struggling with the fact that two serious relationships in his life had failed in what he described as a miserable, sad, incredibly stupid manner.

The remnants of that pain were still noticeable; when he looked outside the window for more time that he wanted to admit, whenever he heard a certain song on the radio, whenever someone mentioned any lines from Casablanca, the glowing ashes of the hot, scorching pain he had yet to get rid of and extinguish could be seen from his eyes.

You knew and you understood him; he needed time; he needed support to get out of the house in flames he was inside of because of people that didn’t know what they wanted. And you, as he hugged you goodbye, resolved you were gonna be there for him.

As you drove home, you realized there was some selfishness behind your resolution; but you figured out as much. You were in love with him, and besides trying to help him be himself; as you had met him or better, you hoped, just further back in your mind and your heart, he would notice you were there. Waiting for him to be the man he wanted to be.

When you opened your front door and you slipped out of your shoes, you thought of how would he react if you told him you were falling in love with him; you knew he wouldn’t let you wait for him like a damsel expecting a brave prince or a knight in shiny armor galloping to you on a mighty stallion. But you weren’t dropping everything until he decided he was better… You were just hoping he would notice you were there. And that was rightfully enough reason for you to do it.

And you were his friend.

The next morning you texted him before going out to work if he was in the mood for some pancakes; immediately getting a big YES in all caps as a response. You drove to your favorite diner; which had quickly become his too. And walked out of there with two white plastic bags filled with pancakes for him and waffles for you.

“Oh my god, bless you!” Marcus let out as you walked into his office with the two big bags. You gave him a smile as he moved his stuff to the side so you could put the bags down.

“Since when are you devoted, Mr. Pike?” you teased, when you put the bags on the desk and pushed his towards the other side, towards him.

“Since my best friend brings me breakfast,” he raised his eyebrows and pulled out the styrofoam packet from the bag and a plastic fork “how much do I owe you?” Marcus asked as he opened the plate and bit his lower lip when the chocolate chip and strawberry pancakes saluted him from the dish.

“Nothing?” you replied, doing the same with your honey caramel waffles, Marcus rolled his eyes.

“Then lunch is on me.” he shrugged, lifting his tie and loosening it a bit from around his neck, throwing it on his shoulder, you scoffed and saw him dig into the pancakes with a small smile adorning your features.

“The least you could do, baby.” you teased, making him smile through his pancake bite.

When lunch hour arrived that same day; he knocked on your door and opened it before you could say come in. He stuck his head inside your office and smiled at you.

“Lunch?” he asked with his eyebrows raised and his small smirk on his face, you reciprocated his smile and nodded, standing up from your chair and closing your computer.

“What are we ordering?” you asked as you walked around your desk and he opened the door wide.

“No, we’re going out.” he let out lowly. You narrowed your eyes as you crossed the threshold and he started walking towards the elevators.

“To what do I owe this honor?” you asked, following him, Marcus chuckled.

“What do you mean?” he said as he clicked the elevator button to call it.

“You’ve never taken me out to lunch, Marcus.” you remarked, the elevator doors opened and he frowned.

“Really?” he questioned, you nodded and hummed in affirmation as the both of you walked into the metal box. “why?” he chuckled.

“What do you mean why?” you laughed at his reaction.

“I mean…” he started, crossing his arms on his chest “we’ve been close almost since I arrived, don’t we?” you nodded with a small smile on your face, Marcus blinked a few times “I feel like we would've gone out together, at least once…” he said with a shrug.

“No, not once.” you remarked again as the elevator door opened on the basement parking lot and you walked out.

“Well, that’s on me, then, I’m the asshole friend.” he let out as he nodded his chin in direction to his car, you chuckled.

“Not an asshole, a busy friend.” you tried to reassure him as he remotely unlocked the car and the both of you hopped inside at the same time.

“I shouldn’t be busy for you, anyway,” he muttered, pushing the ignition button to turn on the engine. “I mean, you’re the one that helps me the most around here, I should be more grateful.”

“Nah,” you whispered as you buckled your seatbelt “I’m just the coworker that doesn’t like to see others struggling.” you teased with a smile as he backed up the car, he looked at you for a split second and sighed, calling your name.

“You know you’re not just my coworker.” he muttered, getting out of the parking lot and incorporating into the traffic. Your smile grew.

“No?” you turned to see him, knowing exactly what he was going to say if you dropped the question that was dangling on your lips, he shook his head. “then what am I?” you asked with a low voice that you hadn’t use in a long time because you didn’t find the time or the place to use it. But, as you were sitting inside the car of the man you were growing deep feelings for, with the tiniest opening to his heart and his mind, you decided to bring it out again.

Marcus almost slammed the brakes of the car. He felt his breath hitch in his throat and as he stopped the car on a red light; he turned to you.

“What?” he whispered. You raised an eyebrow and shrugged slightly.

“What am I?” you repeated the question. Marcus knew the look you were giving him; god he was sure he wouldn’t get that look from anyone anymore, and he had sworn to himself that he wouldn’t look for that look in any woman he met. But there it was; your gaze was deep on him, your lips were loose and open just slightly towards him, your eyes were steady on his and he felt the despicable, gut wrenching feeling of the most deep, disgusting, ingrained insecurity inside his mind and inside his chest that made him think of nothing but his trained instinct of fight or fly.

“My friend.” he whispered out just as the light changed to green. You smiled to yourself and looked out through the window, letting out a sigh.

“Good,” you let out, “besties.” you teased. Marcus let out a nervous chuckle and nodded. He didn’t say another word until he stirred the car to the restaurant’s parking lot.

Marcus heard two consecutive knocks on his door and lifted his head from the massive email he was reading.

“Come in.” he let out on a sigh as he stretched on his chair, and rubbed his eyes; the light of the computer wasn’t helping his sight.

“Brought you coffee.” he heard you, he opened his eyes and saw you closing the door behind you with your hip and two carton cups that were steaming.

“My lifesaver.” he smiled at you and shifted on the chair, you sat in front of him and handed him his cup.

“Cream and no sugar,” you let out “so you don’t get sleepy.” he smiled.

“What’s the occasion?” he asked, you rolled your eyes.

“The occasion is ten thirty at night and you’re still here.” you said, Marcus sipped his coffee and raised his eyebrows.

“You’re here as well.” he shrugged.

“I just finished,” you let out “kinda was waiting for you.” Marcus frowned, you leaned down and rested your back on the chair.

“Why?” he let out, tensing his shoulders.

“Wanted to talk to you.” you muttered, gazing at him. Marcus wanted to shrink on the chair and flee from the room, but he didn’t, he stayed at his full height of 5’11” and tried to hold your gaze.

“Okay? something happened?” he asked with a low voice, you shook your head twice and saw him partially relax.

“Marcus, how long have we known each other?” you asked him, he frowned a bit but looked at the surface of his desk.

“Almost a year, why?” he replied and you hummed in appreciation at it.

“You know why, don’t you?” you said, biting your lip and smiling at him.

“I have a suspicion.” he muttered.

“Good, so should I just say it?” you asked, Marcus shook his head immediately.

“Please, don’t,” he whispered, you were expecting his reaction so you just nodded “I’m so sorry.”

“I understand,” you smiled again at him and Marcus felt his chest contract inside his torso “I was just… making sure.”

“Honey…” he let out, you shook your head.

“Really, I get it.” you winked at him, taking your coffee and standing up.

“Wait,” he stood up as well, “am I gonna lose you?” he asked, trying to reach to you, you raised your hand and he took it.

“Of course not, silly,” you gripped his hand “I’m gonna be around, just let me know if you need me.” you said, Marcus nodded and you slipped your hand off his.

Marcus saw you leave his office and let out a deep sigh once you had closed the door. He threw himself on his chair and dropped his head back to look at the ceiling. God, what was wrong with him?

He tried to reason with himself as he started to breathe normally; you were amazing. He was sure of it because he saw you almost every day. You were beautiful and attractive and funny. You were smart and so damn capable it made him feel beneath you even when you were at the same rank; you meant a lot to him and you, for some reason that didn’t fit inside his head, never hesitated to tell him how much he meant to you, too.

And it was so damn obvious how you felt about him because you didn’t even bother to hide it; he admired the way you just showed it without advertising it and how you just didn’t let it affect your job or your life.

Jesus Christ, you were in love with him and he was there, sitting in his office after you just told him you understood him; you’d stayed close to him despite him being trapped in his own insecurities, despite the barrier he had put between you and him, despite looking at him clutching at the past and wrapping himself around his tragedies like an orphan child would do to a warm blanket.

You were there for him, loving him and caring for him as best as you could, even when you knew he was processing and working to be out in the open again; even when you knew it took him time to comprehend that he shouldn’t feel embarrassed or sad anymore.

Holy shit; you were there all that time and he was just choosing to be blind to what you were doing; even choosing to shove away all the deep, warm, involving love he felt for you.

Marcus stood up from his chair once again and he rushed to walk around his desk and out of the office, walking the few feet there was between his office and yours, he knocked a few times and opened the door; about to burst out his words, then he noticed the office was empty. He checked his watch. It was ten minutes past eleven and he cursed himself for thinking you meant you were going to be around literally.

He rushed again to his office for his things and his car key, desperately trying to order words inside his brain as he all but banged his foot on the elevator floor and trying at the same time to calm the fuck down as he walked to his car.

Marcus was sure it was a good idea with poor execution; he was a romantic at heart he should go pick up something that would tell you he just took his head out of his own ass and realized he was also in love with you; but the feeling of just tell you everything was stronger and was driving him crazy. He was driving like a madman through the highway that led to your apartment, and when he pulled over and looked at the building, he nodded to himself.

“Just say it, Marcus.” he muttered to himself, opening the car door and walking out.

The easiest part was to walk to the front door, buzz himself in and walk up the stairs to the fourth floor; the easiest part was stepping through the hall and towards your door and knocking on it three times.

You opened the door and the easiest part was over; you were in your pajamas; a silk, shimmering top and shorts too short for Marcus’s own good.

“Marcus, what’s going on?” you asked. He cursed himself inside his head. He had forgotten each and every word of the three point argument he had built inside his head on the way to your home; he saw his thoughts pour over his head and melt at your feet and he did nothing else but stand there, in your threshold; with his mouth dry and his eyes on your body. “Marcus?”

You frowned and stepped to the side, grabbing his forearm to pull him inside. Marcus had been in your apartment before, but he knew then it was different.

“You okay? I’m getting worried” you muttered. Closing the door, Marcus shook his head and tried to steady his heartbeat, failing.

“You told me to let you know if I needed you, right?” he asked, barely audibly. You nodded. Marcus licked his lower lip and sighed, “I kinda need you now.”

“Yeah, absolutely, what happened?” you told him, stepping closer to him, raising your hand to his arm.

Marcus felt a bolt of confidence because of your touch. He breathed in deeply and smiled at you, making you frown again.

He put his hand hesitantly on your waist and he felt you stiffen. His eyes traveled from your eyes to your lips and back, and he stepped even closer to you with a smile on his face.

“You’re here.” he whispered, leaning towards you to grab your lips in his with a kiss you didn’t expect, but didn’t dare to deny.

#danni dearest #Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x you #pedro pascal x reader #commissioned fic #soft FBI art nerd husband

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pillage-and-lute · 3 years

Text

Pins and Needles: Part 3

Part 1, Part 2

———- 🌷 🐺 🌷———-

The butter yellow of the awning of the new tattoo shop carried on inside. The color scheme was classy, though.

During Geralt’s mostly misspent youth, he’d been inside his fare share of tattoo and piercing parlors. He’d never gotten a tattoo, and his piercings had mostly been his own work, but still, the culture seeped in. He had learned to expect a lot of red and black and exposed brickwork. There was nothing wrong with that look, but he considered the interior of Pins and Needles to be much more friendly.

The walls were a deep blue, denim, if he had to name it, or perhaps Prussian Blue. It was on all the walls, and the ceiling, with the floor in a dark, smooth wood. He wasn’t sure if that was kept from the last shop or was newly installed. The counter was in the same polished, dark wood, so he supposed it was new. All the accents were dandelion yellow, or yellow brass if they were metal. His leg brushed up against a velveteen chair, something of a vintage style, and of course, in that same buttery yellow.

The waiting area had the chair, a matching loveseat, and a high-backed chaise lounge in a teal color. It had more green to it’s color than the walls, and was in a lighter shade, but it was adjacent to the color of the walls, and a pleasing focal point. Overall, Geralt was impressed. The blue and yellow color scheme could have easily been overdone, but it was masterful, and clearly completed by someone with an eye for color.

Ciri was delightedly pouring over a piercing display. Geralt was startled to realize he owned the exact display box. It was, in fact, a large glass terrarium, the metal that same shiny brass. The shelves of piercing were cleverly angled and set within the case so that they were all visible.

“Nice display case, isn’t it?”

Geralt turned, and there was Jaskier. He had a BB8 coffee mug in his hand, and a shimmery teal shirt unbuttoned low. It framed his sternum and the peaks of color visible through his chest hair and pointing down in a tempting arrow to--

“urk,” Geralt said, choking on his own tongue.

“Priscilla found it on the side of the road one day, the legs were scuffed to hell and one was missing, but the glass was intact, so she took it back to her house and fixed it up.”

“I have the same one,” Geralt managed, the tips of his ears reddening.

“Oh, as a display case?”

“Um, it’s a terrarium.”

“Is it really?” Jaskier beamed and Geralt felt like he was dying. “I always thought it was a funny shape. It makes such a lovely focal point along that wall though.”

Ciri was beaming as well. “Dad keeps succulents in his. Is Priscilla the lady that does piercings?”

“She is,” Jaskier said, tilting his head so that his hair flopped and Gerald got a better view of his undercut and dangling chain of a cuff piercing on his ear. “Are you in the market for a piercing, miss...”

“Ciri,” she said, sticking her hand out to shake. “And my dad might get a tattoo sometime, but he’s being a baby about it and doesn’t know what he wants.”

Jaskier shook her hand and levelled a devastating grin at Geralt. “Well, some things aren’t to be rushed, but if your dad ever want’s a tattoo, I’ll give him anything he wants.”

Geralt desperately tried to reel his thoughts in from the absolute trainwreck that that statement illicited. Obviously Jaskier was just trying to sell his craft not offer...anything else.

“Are you taking walk-ins for piercings?” Ciri asked.

“Absolutely,” Jaskier said, turning and shouting. “Priscilla?” Down the hall of the shop where, presumably, the actuall tattooing and piercing rooms were.

“YEah?” came the response.

“Got a consult for you!”

She poked her head out of a room, smiled quickly, popped back in for a second, then emerged. “Hiya, sorry, I was just doing a little sketching, how can I help?”

“I’d like an industrial piercing please,” Ciri said.

Priscilla tilted her head, eyes squinting slightly as she, apparently, assesed Ciri’s ears. “That’ll suit you well, left or right side?”

“Left.”

“Cool,” she looked to Geralt. “I’m assuming you’re the dad?”

“Uh, yes,” Geralt said, feeling wildly out of his depth.

“Great, and does she have your permission for the piercing?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, absolutely.”

“Cool,” Priscilla said, digging behind the counter. “I’ve got paper work for both of you, and then we can get this lovely lady poked full of holes.”

Geralt’s stomach flipped over. Despite how many times he had actually stuck a fucking sewing needle through his own ear as a teenager, he couldn’t stand the thought of normal piercing needles.

“It’s okay, Dad,” Ciri said as they were handed paperwork and pens. “You don’t have to hold my hand or anything, you can wait out here.”

“Great,” Geralt said, looking at the paperwork. Pretty standard stuff, parental release, aftercare papers, all that. He signed quickly and returned the relevant documents, keeping the aftercare instructions.

“Thanks very much,” Priscilla said, checking for signatures before smiling at Ciri again. “Got any jewelry picked out?” They walked over to the case as Ciri gestured to some.

Jaskier was looking at Geralt assessingly over the top of his coffee mug. “You know,” he said. “Most dads aren’t this cool about piercings.” He licked a bit of foam off of his lip and Geralt tried very hard to pretend that he hadn’t seen the flash of a tongue piercing.

“I, uh, I’ve got plenty of bad ones, I’d rather she got her’s done professionally.”

“Bad ones?” Priscilla’s head jerked up. “Can I see?”

Geralt nodded as she was already bustleing over. He brushed the strands of hair that escaped his ponytail back so she could see his ears.

“Amatur work for sure, although no lasting damage, where’d you get these done?”

Geralt flushed. “I did them, uhm, way back.”

“Oh god, you didn’t buy one of those cheep piercing guns, did you?” Priscilla asked, poking gently at Geralt’s ear so she could look at the back of the piercings. Jaskier smiled at Geralt’s probably confused expression.

“No, I used a needle.”

Priscilla pulled back, eyes wide. “A sewing needle?”

Geralt shrugged guiltily.

“Yeah, okay,” she said quickly, turning to Ciri. “Hold out your pinky, you have to make me a promise.”

Ciri’s brow furrowed, but she linked pinky fingers with the excitable piercer.

“I promise,” Priscilla said, gesturing with her other hand for Ciri to repeat after her.

“I promise,” Ciri said.

“Not to pierce myself.”

“Not to pierce myself,” Ciri said, smiling.

“No matter what my dad did.”

“No matter what my dad did,” Ciri finished. “I won’t, don’t worry.”

“Good,” Priscilla said, releasing Ciri’s pinky from it’s hold and sending a theatrical shiver of disgust toward Geralt. “A sewing needle, yikes. C’mon kiddo, we’re gonna stick a needle through your ear, and I’ll show you how a real piercer does it.”

She hurried Ciri into the back room, grabbing a couple sealed packages on the way, needle and jewelry, Geralt presumed.

“Don’t mind Prissy,” Jaskier said. “She’s just very big on piercing safety.”

“No, I agree,” Geralt said. “I was a really stupid kid back then.”

Jaskier smiled and came out from around the counter a bit, leaning against the side, hip jutting in those ungodly tight leather pants. “Ciri seems pretty smart though, does she get it from her mother?”

“Um,” Geralt said, the sight of those long, leather-wrapped legs making his mouth weirdly dry. “I suppose? Her dad was pretty smart, too.”

“Ah, so you’re not her biological dad?” Jaskier said, leaning forward. Geralt wondered for a second if he was fishing, but surely not, pretty tattoo artists didn’t flirt with frumpy guys like him.

“No, uh, but I’ve been her guardian since she was just a baby so...”Geralt trailed off, unsure how to finish.

“That’s very cute.” Jaskier’s eyes trailed down Geralt, then back up. To his shame, Geralt realized he hadn’t even removed his apron.

“You know,” Jaskier said, conversationally. “My dad would have never even thought about letting me get a piercing.”

Geralt looked over the form in front of him, piercings in each ear, more than one, even, a nose ring, and that ellusive tongue ring, as well as the colorful tattoos that swarmed over his skin. “That worked out well for him,” he said without thinking, then blushed.

Jaskier, though, laughed, head back, shoulders shaking. “Indeed,” he said at last. “I shrugged off my father’s wishes rather fully, I think.”

The bell rang as another person entered the shop and Geralt stepped aside as Jaskier went back behind the counter. He sat on the yellow chair and watched Jaskier’s lips--and that hint of silver on his tongue-- as he made the young woman a tattoo appointment.

Jaskier’s hands, full of rings and swirling ink, were so quick on the computer keys, and when he talked with them, they were so expressive.

Geralt wanted to hold one.

Unfortunately, by the time the young woman was gone and Geralt could have possibly had Jaskier’s full attention again, Ciri was all done. Geralt paid, thanked both Jaskier and Priscilla, and went over the care instructions, before he and Ciri crossed the road.

It felt very much like a retreat.

———- 🌷 🐺 🌷———-

Tag List!

@jaybeefoxy @sweetiepieplum @holymotherwolf

#geraskier #tattoo au #flower shop au #the witcher #geralt x jaskier #geralt is a good dad #but a dating disaster #DO NOT do your own piercings kids

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leviackermanscleaningbuddy · 3 years

Text

BTS DRABBLE-Jungkook

When your vampire boyfriend admits that he doesn’t know what he looks like, you’re completely flabbergasted. I mean, it makes sense, he doesn’t have a reflection. But you’ve never thought about how he just hasn’t ever seen himself-not in a mirror, or a picture, or even a passing car window. And suddenly, you have an important mission-though you’re no artist, not by any means-you’re determined to draw him as you see him. So he can see himself for once, even if it’s just through your eyes.

Tags: BTS. Bangtan Boys, Bangtan Seonyendan, Bulletproof Boy Scouts, Beyond the Scene, BTS Drabble, Fluff, Vampire!BTS, Vampire AU, Vampire!Bangtan, Boyfriend AU, BTS x you, BTS x reader, Jeon Jungkook, Jungkook, Jeon Jungkook x you, Jungkook x you, Jeon Jungkook x reader, Jungkook x reader

Genre: Fluff

Title: Through Your Eyes

“Wait, wait, wait.” You sit up, eyes wide, mouth still open, voice laced with honest and shocked surprise. You glance down at the boy still lying on the living room floor beside you, watching you with a slightly amused expression on his beautiful features, and cannot believe you head him right. “So you really honestly have no idea what you look like.”

Jungkook shrugs casually, as if it’s no big deal. “Nope.”

But it is a big deal.

“So you’re telling me-” You cross your legs beneath you and stare down at him hard, trying to compute what he’s telling you and how he’s so relaxed about it all. “You’ve gone your whole life never seeing yourself.”

“Correct.” Jungkook does that cute, quick little nod of his head that you love, the one that purses his full lips and sends his dark hair bouncing into his caramel eyes. “Vampires don’t have reflections, babe.” He grins at you, the smile lighting up his face, as if he wants to laugh that you haven’t realized this and put two and two together.

“I know, I know.” You wave your hand in an agitated motion. “I’ve heard that. I know that. But-” You stop for a minute, brows furrowed and lips pursed as you continue to mull over what your boyfriend has just told you. “I’ve just never actually thought about what that meant.”

Jungkook sits up beside you now, a slight smile still curling his pink lips, and mirrors your position, crossing longs beneath him as he faces you, reaching out to take your hands in his own as he squeezes your fingers reassuringly. “It’s fine, babe. It’s not a big deal. I’ve never been curious enough to care.”

You cannot believe him.

Not wanting to know what you look like? Impossible.

And yeah, maybe you care a little bit too much about what others think about you, but still, Jungkook is being way too nonchalant about this. Right?

“But you’re so pretty.” You blurt out before you can stop yourself, admiring the way his black hair falls across his forehead, the perfect flow of his flawless tan skin across his bone structure, the contrast of his white straight teeth and pointed fangs against the rose, plump skin of his lips.

“Ahhhh, babe.” Jungkook replies teasingly, reaching out to poke the end of your nose with his pointer finger, as he flashes you another white, blinding grin. “You think I’m pretty?”

“Shut up. This is important.” You snap back, and he tries to hide the smile behind a dramatic serious expression that has you fighting back your own desire to giggle and grin.

A light bulb clicks on in your brain, and has you scrambling to your feet, leaving Jungkook looking after you with a slightly surprised expression on his beautiful face, as you dart down the hall to the bedroom, calling over your shoulder, “Hold on. Stay right there.”

You reemerge a moment later, a notebook and pen clutched in your hand, and settle back onto the floor facing him, movements determined and focused as you whip open the book to a clean page of paper and click the pen into a ready position.

“What are you doing?” Jungkook asks, thoroughly bewildered.

“Shhh.” You hush him, and reach out to take his chin in your fingers, positioning his head in such a way that it’s easier to see all his features in the sunlight coming in through the apartment window. “Hold still. Don’t talk. Don’t move.”

Your boyfriend does as he’s told, clamping his jaw closed and sitting as still as possible.

There is silence in the room for what feels like hours, as you attentively focus on the page before you, swirling the pen across the blank canvas, and only sometimes glancing back up to your muse before you resume your work.

Jungkook-to his credit-doesn’t ask anymore questions, and is actually a pretty good model-remaining in the same position-until you finally click the pen closed and sit back with a sigh.

“Done.” You announce, hiding the page from his view, as you glance once more over your labor of love.

You’re not an artist-not by any means-but as you let your eyes flick from the page to the boy in front of you, even you have to admit, you didn’t do a half bad job.

The drawing on the page is most definitely one Jeon Jungkook

“Shit, I thought my jaw was gonna clench up if I had to sit still for one more minute.” Jungkook lets the words explode from his mouth as he releases the breath he had been holding, reaching up to massage along his sharp jawline with his fingertips. “Are you gonna tell me what that was all about?”

“You’ve never seen yourself.” You say mysteriously, and bite back a smile as Jungkook rolls his eyes in a good natured sort of way at your vague statement.

“Right.” He leans back on his hands and stares at you, one dark brow raised in your direction in an obvious expression of bemused exasperation. “We’ve established that.”

“So-” You glance down at the paper once more, held close to your chest, before you sigh and push it in his direction. “I wanted to draw you. So you can see yourself. At least once. Even if it’s just through my badly rendered impression.”

Jungkook’s large eyes widen even further if possible as surprise flashes across his face, long fingers brushing yours as he reaches out to take the shyly offered piece of paper. His mouth parts slightly-revealing the sharp tips of his fangs-as if he wants to say something, but can’t think of the words, so he simply lets his gaze drop to the drawing instead.

You watch him carefully, feeling your cheeks flush slightly, as he intensely studies your caricature in pregnant silence, dark eyes sweeping slowly and meticulously over each detail.

The large, doe eyes-almond shaped and rimmed with dark lashes-that you love so much, because you can see every emotion he’s ever felt swirling within the black of the blown pupil-as if they’re a window to his heart and soul.

The perfect slope of his nose that ends just above his full, plush, pink lips-the same lips that part to reveal white, gleaming teeth.

The same teeth that are one of your favorite parts of him, because when he smiles, they push forward like an adorable bunny, a testament to his happiness and the joy he feels in any given moment.

The dark, thick hair that falls across his forehead like he has been sculpted by marble-soft and shiny and so fluffy that you always want to have your fingers buried in it-only slightly softening the sharp angles of his high cheekbones and knife like jawline.

Your heart is pounding now, because it’s been several moments of silence, and you’re worried suddenly that Jungkook thinks you’re crazy, drawing him in such a way that clearly and loudly screams Hey, I’m insanely in love with you!

“Do you-” You start to say, and your words stutter to a halt, because he looks up at you sharply, as if he’d forgotten you were there. You force yourself to continue, swallowing hard. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah.” He nods, and the word is muted, as if he can’t quite get it to leave the tip of his tongue. He glances down once more at the paper held carefully in his hands. “Do you really see me like this?”

“I mean-” Your cheeks flush hot and red, and you flick your gaze away from his own as he meets your eyes once more. “I did my best to be accurate but I’m not an artist and I’m not sure if I did a good job-”

“(Y/N).”

Your eyes startle upward to his at the serious use of your first name, and it is so rare for him to say it, that you have to remind yourself to breathe as your eyes meet his own dark, unreadable ones, fingers twisting nervously in your lap.

“Yes?”

He cocks a brow at you, and holds up the drawing, and you can barely bring yourself to look at it now. “I didn’t ask if this is accurate. I asked if this is really how you see me.”

“I-” You try to think of how you can play it off, how you can make it into a joke, but the way he’s looking at you makes you answer simply and honestly. “Yes.”

There is another brief pause in between the two of you-as if the world is holding its breath-and you know, you just know in your gut, that Jungkook is going to call you out, going to acknowledge the fact that the drawing-still held in his hand-lays bare all of your unsaid feelings for him.

But instead, his eyes crinkle, and his lips part, and his bunny teeth emerge in a large grin, as he glances once more at the picture, before saying lightly, “Wow. I really am pretty.”

You laugh-and it’s breathless and slightly relieved-and nod. “See. I told you.”

Jungkook stands, reaching out his free hand to help you up off the floor. “I love it. Thanks, babe.” He leans over to press a kiss to your lips, and you let yourself relax into him for just a second, content in that moment, that he knows everything now, including what he looks like.

“You can throw that away.” You say shyly, cheeks still warm, as you glance down at the paper still held in his other hand.

“Are you kidding me?” Jungkook glances over at you with wide eyes. “This is the only portrait I’ll ever have of myself.” He tugs you toward the door, already reaching for the car keys where they hang on the wall. “Shit, we’re going to Hobby Lobby right now to get this masterpiece framed. I’m gonna hang it on the wall in our bedroom.”

You laugh and he shoots you that adorable grin you love, all front teeth and fangs, and you’re giddy almost, with the fact that Jungkook seems to be happy with the fact that he has now finally seen himself.

Even if only through your eyes, and the love that lives there.

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joheun-saram · 3 years

Text

otsukare sama deshita (sope)

Summary- Hoseok knows the perfect partner for his new song, but will Yoongi agree?

word count- 1.6k

pairing- Hoseok x Yoongi (platonic)

rating- G

genre- friendship, fluff, slight angst (not really)

warnings- none

a.n- HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAN!!! 🥳 I wrote this as a birthday present for @eternalseokjin but in typical mars fashion, i was late. I hope you enjoy my first mxm fic. this is my take on how hobi convinced yoongi to perform with him. when i floated this idea on the net people thought it was gonna be a crack fic, but honestly i think yoongi respects hobi too much to protest a lot lol

A huge shoutout to @hoebii and @hobisbeautifulass for beta reading this! 💕

As always feedback appreciated, a reblog and a like goes a far way. Send me an ask! 💌

perm taglist- @cheesecakes-randomshitz, @aroseforyoongi

Hoseok was excited. In fact, he was beyond excited. He had spent the Japanese tour leg writing a song that he felt was the perfect mix of goofy and talent, if he could say so himself. A cheerful, optimistic song that portrayed his J-Hope persona to a T. He knew it wasn’t going to go in any of the albums; he had told his fellow co-writers in Japan as much, but he just knew that ARMY would love it as soon as he unveiled it. The only thing that would make it better would be if he could get a certain friend of his to join in on the antics. A certain grumpy friend that sat across from him zoning out as he sipped his iced Americano, even though it was close to 10pm.

“Hyung, can I run something by you?” Hosoek asked, feigning an air of nonchalance, as he rolled his chair closer to the couch Yoongi was sprawled on. He rested his feet against the cushions, leaning back against the chair, his fingers drumming against the arm rests. He didn’t want to admit it but he was a little nervous. Chances were that Yoongi would agree to his proposition; he was usually very easy going and enjoyed the fanservice that they partook in. However, lately Yoongi had been pretty stressed, short tempered and tired, snapping at everyone. He hadn’t shared why, but Hoseok felt it was something personal that he didn’t want to pry on.

Hoseok’s voice broke Yoongi out of his thoughts as he looked up to the brightly dressed man in front of him. He mirrored the frown on Hoseok’s face as he hummed for him to continue. Yoongi would never admit it, but he was in no mood for a conversation; his head running through the overwhelmingly long to-do list he had to accomplish before the end of tomorrow. The longer he looked at Hoseok sitting in silence, the deeper his frown got. What was he so fidgety for? It was putting him on edge, not to mention adding to his stress.

“Spit it out, Hobah,” he snapped, sighing a little in frustration as Hoseok cleared his throat tentatively.

“Well… I wrote this song. I was wondering if you wanted to perform together.” That’s it? Hoseok just wanted to perform a song together? What was the big deal about that?

“Yeah okay. Sure,” Yoongi acquiesced easily, much to Hoseok’s surprise. Hoseok’s face broke into a large grin, one that brought a small smile on the older rapper’s face.

“Promise?” Hoseok asked, almost bouncing excitedly. Yoongi furrowed his brows suspiciously, knowing that there was no way he was this giddy about a simple duet. Something had to be up.

“You’re making me rethink this…” Yoongi said as he looked over the rim of the plastic coffee cup in his hand, missing his mouth with the straw before capturing it with his lips with a huff and an eye roll. Hoseok chuckled at the action before continuing.

“Oh come on! It’ll be fun! I can just imagine ARMY’s excitement! A Sope unit song!” Hoseok radiated enthusiasm, lifting Yoongi’s spirits as well as the corners of his mouth. He really was a ball of energy sometimes, his excitement almost contagious as he never failed to energize Yoongi, even when all he wanted to do was crawl in bed and sleep his life away.

“Fine. Let me hear it first,” Yoongi said with a snicker, eager to hear the masterpiece his friend had created. He couldn’t help shaking his head with a smile as Hoseok excitedly stood up, almost hopping to the computer to play the track. Yoongi smiled as the track played, habitually fidgeting with his lip in concentration.

To say it was different than any of the songs Hoseok had penned before was an understatement. Yoongi expected vibrant beats and spunky lyrics like the tracks Hoseok had consulted with him on for his future mixtape but this song was a rollercoaster, a tongue-in-cheek trot song of optimism. He smiled as the track played on, Hoseok’s cheerful vocals a perfect fit for the atmosphere it created. As the chorus played again, Yoongi couldn’t help but sing along to the catchy words under his breath. An action not missed by Hoseok, whose smile only got wider.

As the song came to an end, Yoongi felt his mood lightened, the song already stuck in his head. Hoseok hadn’t written many songs alone before and he felt proud of his friend’s accomplishment. “It’s good. Good job, Hoseok!” Yoongi complimented, a gummy smile on his face.

“Thanks!” Hoseok sang out, his smile quickly replaced by his professional straight face as he continued on with the details of the collaboration, which part Yoongi would sing and the vibe he would add. Yoongi found himself easily agreeing with him. He could do with a fun project, and to be completely honest he was ready to record it as soon as the month was over. However, this thought was brought to a screeching halt as the next words left Hoseok’s lips.

“So I was thinking we reveal it at the Japan fan meeting.” Yoongi’s eyes widened at the comment. *Was he serious?

“The one in two weeks?” Yoongi’s momentarily forgotten stress was back with full force, and he bit his nail. He had so many things on his plate that adding a song that he would not only have to record, but learn the dance and words to *within the next fortnight made his chest clench uneasily. He always had a hard time saying no to Hoseok but the more he thought about the endless things he had to work through, the easier it became. “Absolutely not.”

“Hyungnim!” Hoseok stretched the syllables cutely in a whine to appeal to his older member. He knew behind all the apathy Yoongi had a soft spot for him and it was not beyond him to use it to his advantage. He jumped from his chair next to Yoongi, an arm around the smaller man’s shoulders as he tried to get him as excited as he was. “The theme to Hwagae Market! We’ll wear cheesy suits and goof around! Come on! It’d be fun!”

Yoongi knew Hoseok was just being his usual self, but he felt slightly suffocated. Shrugging his arm off, Yoongi leaned forward, elbows on knees as he rubbed his face with a groan. He missed the way Hoseok frowned, certain now that something was bothering his friend. Before he could prod for details, Yoongi let out an exasperated sigh.

“I don’t know, Hoseok. Fuck. I’m just so stressed. I don’t know if I can take something else on right now.” Yoongi looked at him, a silent plea hidden in his eyes that made Hoseok’s heart tighten in empathy. He knew all about being overly stressed. It would be a lie to say the life they had chosen was easy and smooth sailing.

Hoseok always tried to keep a professional distance between his members, not wanting to overwhelm them when they had to spend so much time together by obligation. He always felt he was prying if he asked about their personal lives or struggles, but he also knew that Yoongi never brought up something unless he wanted to share. He just needed a push.

“You wanna talk about it?” Hoseok asked, placing his hand on Yoongi’s knee, trying to coax the rapper into conversation.

“I don’t know…” Yoongi began, but it didn’t take him long to delve into his problems. There was something about Hoseok that always led him to open up without feeling the guilt he sometimes did when sharing his feelings. Although Hoseok was usually loud and energetic, when prompted he was quiet and a great listener. Just looking at his face stoic in concentration made Yoongi feel as if what he was saying truly mattered, regardless if it was a useless rant about work stress that Hoseok himself had.

It was close to midnight by the time the two had wrapped up their heart to heart, empty beer bottles and half eaten dishes of sundae and tteokbokki cluttering the coffee table in front of them. Hoseok hadn’t expected Yoongi to open up to him the way he did, but he was glad to shoulder his burden with him. There was a reason he was closest with the introverted producer in the group; he seemed to make everything Hoseok said seem important, like it had substance, be it a stupid joke that Yoongi laughed at the loudest, or advice that he could’ve gotten off an Instagram inspiration page.

By the time they packed to make their way to the dorms, Hoseok felt almost bad for adding to Yoongi’s work load, but the dark haired man would have none of it.

“Nah, Hobi. We’re doing it,” Yoongi said, his voice stern and determined.

“Are you sure?” Hoseok asked, as he climbed into the passenger seat of Yoongi’s car, stuffing his backpack between his legs before strapping on his seatbelt. “It was a random idea. We don’t have to. I can table this song for next year.”

“No. It will be fun. ARMY will love it,” Yoongi replied, placing an arm on the back of Hoseok’s headrest as he turned to reverse out of the parking space, before driving out of the underground lot. “It’s a really good song, Hobi. Proud of you, man.”

Hoseok couldn’t help but chuckle at the earnest praise, feeling instantly shy. He was right though, he realized as he walked off the stage two weeks later, high on adrenaline with a huge grin on his face. His expression was mirrored on Yoongi’s face who clapped him on the back, panting hard.

“Sope des!” Yoongi joked, still laughing at how great the performance went, taking off the shiny sequined coat.

“Sope des!” echoed the rest of the boys cheerfully before rushing towards the stage, as Hoseok laughed putting on the jacket for the next performance.

Like this? Check out my other works.

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lupinblacktheone · 3 years

Text

"So, I was thinking": a modern college!AU:

Johnny is bored. He has already finished all of his crosswords; all of his friends are busy minding their own business and won't pick up their phones.

Classes won't begin until next Monday. Johnny arrived at his dorm last night and he doesn't know when his roommate will be there. All he knows about this person is his name: LaRusso, Daniel.

Wondering about this mysterious boy could set Johnny free from his boredom. Is he a nerd? Or a drama kid? Johnny hopes he won't sing all the time. Of course he likes music (who doesn't?), but musicals... he isn't ready for them yet.

It would be nice to have some common likings with him. Maybe horror movies or breakfast for dinner (well, Johnny is so broke that he eats it for all meals, basically).

Remembering the old times, which weren't good, not at all, tugs at Johnny's heartstrings. He doesn't miss arguing with his parents all the time, but he certainly liked not having to iron his clothes himself. And he misses messing around with Tommy, Jimmy, Bobby and Dutch after school.

Oh, and Karate! Johnny misses it so much that it hurts. He couldn't find a Karate club to join (is this a thing? In Johnny's opinion, it should be. There are clubs for everything in this campus. If he can't find one, he'll form one). Maybe he can practice with Daniel and he could be the second member of the Karate club.

"Hello! I'm Daniel!"

Johnny stares at the boy. He's short, dark-haired and has round brown eyes.

"Johnny", the blond boy gets up, approaches Daniel and shakes his hand. "Can I help you unpacking?"

"Please", Daniel sighs and rubs his neck. "My mother just dropped me off and turned the car around. I barely had time to say goodbye. Can you believe it? I think she wants to rent my room while I'm gone, but I don't think I'll be going home anytime soon. How about you?"

Obviously, the first thing Johnny learns about Daniel is: he's a chatterbox. Second thing: he's from Jersey. He lives with his mother and would love to learn martial arts, but her mother wouldn’t let him because she’s afraid he will get hurt.

"I know Karate", Johnny confesses with a little smile.

***

Sometimes, Johnny regrets having told Daniel about his passion for Karate, because the kid didn't stop begging Johnny for some classes until he finally gave up.

Their dorm is too small and they would destroy it sparring there, so Johnny decides to have the class outside, behind the gym. Daniel said he would meet Johnny there after dinner (and yes, Daniel also has breakfast for all meals, since he is just as broke as Johnny).

December is on the way, so Johnny is wearing as much sweaters as he can (including his Cobra Kai jacket). He leans his back against the red brick wall and puts a cigarette between his lips.

Daniel shows up some minutes later, carrying a heavy messenger bag on his shoulder and wrapped in hoodies and coats (he has lots of cool hoodies; Johnny loves to borrow them and he is using the baseball one right now).

"Ugh", Daniel puts the bag down, massaging his shoulder.

"Are you ok?", Johnny asks with a worried look on his face.

"Perfect. Let's do this."

They get on fighting positions and spar for a while. When they get tired, they walk back to their room, peacefully talking about the day.

"Let me carry this for you", Johnny picks the messenger bag, even though Daniel has already bent to pull it.

He places it over his shoulder and Daniel walks beside him, ranting about his lame Calculus professor.

"I couldn't convince Mrs. Warter to postpone the paper's due date", Johnny complains when Daniel asks about his day. "I'll be lucky if I get a C on it."

"Do you want me to help you?"

Yes, please, he almost answers. Johnny enjoys having Daniel around. They don't have many common likings besides Karate and breakfast food, but he really enjoys staying up late with him, sharing their only desk (Johnny begun to work as a cashier in a store near the campus and Daniel writes other people's assignments for money and they are saving money to improve the place) and laptops on study sessions. Or to spend rare and lazy Sundays in their room, doing crosswords (Daniel bought some magazines and gave to Johnny). Or to share breakfast meals in the middle of the night because they can't sleep.

"Are you free tonight?", he asks, his voice sounds desperate, just as his eyes.

"Is this a study session or a date?", Daniel replies jokingly and raises an eyebrow. "Sure. I can help you."

Johnny opens his laptop and shows Daniel what he's working on.

"I mean, it's not bad, but could use some adjustments here and there. Let's get to work."

Daniel presses the keyboard keys hard with strong movements that emulate a pianist, but with perfectly tied hair. His brain is formulating what should be in the text and getting rid of what shouldn't be read by Johnny's professor.

"I think we're done here", Daniel declares.

"Thanks. I'm gonna buy you a coffee tomorrow, with extra cream."

"Much appreciated", the boy winks and Johnny's heart skips a beat. "So, I was thinking..."

"What a miracle", Johnny teases, smiling to distract Daniel from his blushing ears.

"Anyway, are you going home for Christmas?"

"I don't think so. You?"

"Also no. I don't have enough money for a ticket to Parsipanny."

Daniel looks at Johnny for a moment. His blue eyes are usually shiny, but now... he's more than just sad. Johnny looks depressed and scared.

"Are you alright?", Daniel reaches for Johnny's hand. "You can talk to me. I'm here for you."

Johnny doesn't talk. Instead, he goes for a hug. A big and warm hug. He clings onto Daniel as if he was the only thing keeping him from being blown away.

He doesn't want to cry. However, he can't fight the tears anymore. Daniel holds Johnny, trying to keep him together only with his bare hands. He doesn't try to whisper comfort words in Johnny's ear, he just stays there, providing his roommate all the support he can.

That night, Johnny falls asleep in Daniel's arms. He has never felt this safe before.

The next morning, Johnny rushes to the closest cafe shop to get the nicest cup they have. He drops by the dorm to put the coffee on the desk with a note: To the best roommate ever. Thank you for everything. Love, J.

He sends the paper to Mrs. Warter as soon as he takes a seat in the computer lab for his first class, hoping Daniel's help can save his poor ass from failing Warter's class.

A few hours later, Johnny is waiting for the last class to begin so he can get to work. Not that he likes standing up by a counter telling old people where they can find raisins, plum juice and other things old people buy. But at least, he gets to listen to his music and does little pieces of homework between a client and another.

There is something Johnny can't do at the store: see Daniel. Too bad they don't take many classes together, because every time Johnny sees Daniel entering the classroom, the world changes. It becomes brighter and more beautiful. He knows it's cliché, but Johnny is tired of pretending to be the perfect son, athlete... he just wants to be Johnny.

And Johnny is brave.

"So, I was thinking...", Johnny says when Daniel sits by his side.

"That's unusual", Daniel lets out that amusement air through his nose. "What is it?"

"Do you wanna go out? With... with me?"

That is really unusual. Johnny never was this reticent before. Not even when he noticed he had a crush on Ali Mills.

“Yeah, sure. When?”

“How about Friday? My shift ends at 5:30.”

“Sounds great.”

***

Johnny spends Christmas in his dorm, with Daniel. They curl up on Johnny’s bed, wrapped in Daniel’s hoodies, solving crosswords puzzles and drinking tea while listening to Johnny’s music. Neither of them wants to talk about their families.

Growing up as an only child, Johnny never had to share his things. He wouldn’t even allow Ali to read his poetry (he wrote some about her, tho), or let his friends go through his Spotify playlist. Not because he's embarrassed to like these songs, but because the lyrics describe him so perfectly that he's not comfortable with someone listening to it in front of him.

When he met Daniel and found out they could be good friends (maybe more than that? Johnny certainly hopes so), he felt an urge to take the boy on a journey through his world. First, they shared Karate, then crossword puzzles and went on and on, discovering little things about one another.

“Huh… I couldn’t get you anything for Christmas, so I wrote you a poem. Wanna hear it?”

Daniel doesn’t say anything, just gets closer to him as Johnny clears his throat and searches his notebook for his newest composition. Once he finds it, he puts the paper in front of his eyes (he was brave enough to ask the boy out, but not to have that lovely brown eyes gazing at him while he reads his feelings out.)

“I loved it, Johnny. Now get ready for your present.”

Johnny doesn’t close his eyes when his lips are pressed by Daniel’s mouth. It feels so good that they do it again and again until they fall asleep, holding each other.

***

Graduation is almost here. Most students have moved from the dorms or plan to do it soon. Daniel and Johnny, on the other hand, haven’t mentioned the matter yet. As you can imagine, they don’t want to live with their families again. The only thing Johnny wants is to stay with Daniel and he wonders if Daniel wants the same thing.

“Hey, Danny”, it was supposed to be a nice and quiet study session before the finals, but Johnny can’t hold this down any longer. “I was thinking… do you wanna live with me?”

“Are you kidding me? You’re never getting rid of me, blondie.”

#lawrusso #daniel larusso #johnny lawrence #college au #fanfic #Johnny's POV

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch56: Worthy

Intro: A few weeks post the Time Heist the team are finally ready to reverse the snap. The only problem is, when you mess with time it tends to mess back…

Warnings: “Language!”

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: Another huge thanks to @angrybirdcr for her edits…

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 55

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

October 2023

Katie walked over to the dresser in Nat’s room and smiled at the photos that stood on the shiny, dark wood surface. There were a few shots that stood in frames, one of Nat with Clint, Laura and the Kids, one of her, Katie and Pepper at Tony’s wedding, but it was the biggest one that she reached out to pick up. It was a photo that Katie had taken in her and Steve’s back garden a few months before on Jamie’s third birthday. Nat had Jamie balanced on her hip and Emmy to her other side, arm round the teens shoulder. She was smiling, happily at the camera, almost like she had no care in the world.

“Hey.” A soft voice spoke behind her and she turned to look at Steve, already dressed in his Captain America suit. “I’m not even gonna ask how you got in here.” “I already had access.” Katie shrugged, replacing the photo back down. “She had access to ours as well, although she never used it much, especially not after that time she walked in on us on the couch and got an eyeful of your ass going ten to the-“ “Yeah, yeah, I remember.” Steve snorted, leaning on the doorframe, the pink tinge spreading up his neck to his cheeks as he recalled the incident. They’d been going at it pretty furiously when Nat had walked in. There had been a lot of yelling, shrieks, giggles and one strategically placed throw cushion as he had stood up and reversed hastily to the bedroom out of view. “She told me she needed four bottles of bleach for her eyeballs.”

Katie sniggered before she sighed. “I miss her, Steve.”

“I know.” He said gently, walking into the room and she melted into his arms. “I wish I could tell you it goes away but it doesn’t. You just learn to live with it. I promise it will get easier though.” Katie smiled at his words. She knew full well what living with grief was like, they’d done it enough over the past five years but he wasn’t trying to be patronising, merely trying to lend her some comfort and she loved him for that.

“Given that Halloween isn’t for another two weeks I take it you’re dressed in your Spangles for a reason?” She pulled back and Steve nodded.

“We’re ready.” He gave her a significant look.

Katie let out a breath. They’d been working on the gauntlet now for the past few weeks. Thor, Rocket, Tony and Banner all spending hours at a time in the lab. Given that the Time and Soul stones were the only ones they had in their true gem form the first challenge get the others into the same state. For the most, all that meant was smashing open the various items they were contained within- namely the Tesseract, Sceptre and Orb. But even that had to be done in a controlled way so no stone was damaged or disturbed. Then, a slightly trickier task, they’d had to figure out how to solidify the Aether. Thor had been extremely nervous about this given his history with it and how it was able to “consume” people it decided to use as hosts. After days of brainstorming and various ideas they dismissed, Tony had come up with the idea of using the 3D printer to create a vessel, using a scan of one of the other stones.

“So, err…it’s time?” Steve nodded. “Everyone’s meeting in the lab.” He nodded to the photos on the side. “Time to make her sacrifice worthwhile.”

Katie followed his eye line and nodded. “Yeah,” she turned back to him, “I’ll go grab my suit.” He bent down to give her a soft peck on the lips and watched her go before he cast a cursory glance around the room. It was a little untidy, but that had been Nat all over. ‘Organised chaos’ she had described her nature as.

“You weren’t wrong, Widow.” Steve smiled gently, before he turned and shut the door behind him, striding back to the lab.

He arrived just in time to see Tony stood by the glass case housing the Gauntlet, his hand carefully manipulating the machines to cautiously place all six stones in their respective places within the glove.

“Boom!” Rocket let out a yell and both Tony and Bruce jumped a little. Tony turned to glare at the raccoon who was sniggering at his joke.

Steve rolled his eyes, he still wasn’t sure about the animal but he couldn’t deny he’d been useful, his knowledge filling in a lot of gaps they had.

“Asshole.” Tony grumbled as Steve crossed the room to pick up his helmet which was lying on a desk. Tony looked up at him. “You find Kiddo?” “Exactly where I thought she’d be.” Steve nodded. “She’s gone to suit up.” It wasn’t long before she returned with Clint and Scott. Scott was already in his Ant-Man suit, Clint in his Hawkeye get up and Katie in her leathers, the bangle that contained her Supernova suit gleaming on her wrist. Steve’s eyes travelled over everyone as they checked their various bits of equipment, and he took a deep breath, nervous excitement coursing through his veins.

Everything they had been through over the past five years and, more recently, the sacrifice their best friend had made all came down to this. A literal snap of the fingers.

Eventually, a silence fell over the room as everyone crowded round the gauntlet. A quick headcount told Steve they were one short, and he didn’t mean Natasha either. Nebula was absent but he assumed she was elsewhere at the request of Tony for some reason, maybe doing some checks in other areas. He was about to ask when Rocket spoke up.

“All right. The glove’s ready.” His arms folded across his chest. “Question is, who’s gonna snap their freaking fingers?”

“I’ll do it.” Thor spoke immediately and they all turned to face him, Lang speaking the words at the forefront of Steve’s mind.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s okay.” Thor nodded, heading towards the gauntlet where he was immediately met with a barrage of protests from around the room.

“No, no, no, whoa.”

“Stop. Stop.”

“Wait a sec. Hey, hey!”

“Wait, wait, Thor, just wait.” Steve shook his head gently, his arm reaching out to stop the God before he put his arm in the glove. “We haven’t decided who’s gonna put that on yet.”

“I’m sorry. What, we’re just sitting around waiting for the right opportunity?” Thor snapped back.

“We should at least discuss it.” Katie nodded, trying to appease him.

“No, no, sitting here staring at that thing is not gonna bring everybody back.” Thor looked at her, shaking his head. “I’m the strongest Avenger, okay? So this responsibility falls upon me. It’s my duty.”

“It’s not about–“

“It’s not that– Stop it! Just let me!” Thor pleaded as he started to get teary eyed. Katie took a breath as she could almost feel the guilt that was radiating off him in waves. “Just let me do it. Just let me do something good. Something right.”

“Look, it’s not just the fact that that glove is channelling enough energy to light up a continent, I’m telling you, you’re in no condition.” Tony shook his head.

“He’s right, Thor.” Katie looked at him. “Let’s just think about it, please?”

“What do you-“ Thor shook his head as he looked at Katie, his blue eyes then flicking to Tony “What do you think is coursing through my veins right now?”

Katie took a deep breath and crossed her arms in front of her chest, looking at Steve who mimicked her action subconsciously, shaking his head slightly.

“Cheez Whiz?” Rhodey supplied from the side of the room. Thor pointed at him, shooting him a glare but all Rhodey did was shrug.

“Lightning.” He stated simply.

“Lightning won’t help you, pal.” Banner spoke softly, as everyone turned to look at him “It’s gotta be me.”

Katie glanced at Steve who was frowning a little, his attention completely on the large hulk of a man who gave a small shrug.

“You saw what those stones did to Thanos. It almost killed him. None of you could survive.” Banner’s eyes were focussed on the red gauntlet as he walked towards it.

“How do we know you will?” Steve questioned as Banner passed him by.

“We don’t. But the radiation’s mostly gamma,” he stated, in a matter of fact way, his eyes still on the gauntlet, as he clearly contemplated. With a smile he turned to look at Katie, then Tony as he spoke again. “It’s like….uh…I was made for this.”

Katie’s head whipped round to look at Tony, before they both glanced back at Banner who smiled at them again, the siblings instantly understanding what he was referring to.

“You know, I’ve got a cluster of shrapnel, trying every second to crawl its way into my heart.” Tony said, pointing at the Arc-Reactor in his chest as he walked towards Bruce “But this- this stops it. This little circle of light”

“Because that’s the same…” Katie said sarcastically rolling my eyes.

“The point is its part of me now, not just armor.” Tony ignored her as he stood opposite Banner, looking at him through you clear screen as lines of data swam across it. “It’s a… terrible privilege.

“But you can control it.” Bruce pointed out.

“Because I learned how”

“It’s different.” Bruce returned back to the computer screen but Tony slid the data aside with his fingers so the two could see face-to-face without interruption.

“Hey, I’ve read all about your accident. That much gamma exposure should have killed you.”

“That’s true…” Katie said, watching the exchange.

“So you’re saying that the Hulk…” he paused, smiling sadly as he correcting himself whilst Tony raised his eyebrows “The other guy saved my life?”

Katie looked at Tony. His eyes were flashing bright as Bruce looked back at him. Tony gave him a significant look.

“That’s nice, it’s a nice sentiment.” Bruce said as Tony moved back to his computer. “Saved it for what?”

Tony hesitated and looked up, “I guess we’ll find out.

And it seemed they just had.

Unlike Steve, Katie did believe in fate and destiny, certainly to an extent anyway. After everything she had seen and experienced over the past twelve years or so she couldn’t help but consider there was an element of truth in the fact that they were all pawns in a bigger game.

She glanced at Steve who was studying Banner, but made no move to stop him. He couldn’t argue with the man’s logic. So, as no one else protested, Tony moved to remove the gauntlet from the casing before he handed it to the Doctor.

“Good to go, yeah?” Tony asked.

Bruce nodded. “Let’s do it,”

“You remember. Everyone Thanos snapped away five years ago and just bring them back to now.” Tony reminded Bruce. “Don’t change anything from the last five years,”

Bruce nodded again. “Got it.”

“Good luck.” Katie encouraged before she twisted the star on her bangle causing her suit to flow over her body, Tony doing the same with his chest piece whilst Steve gripped his shield on his arm. Katie’s own shield beamed out of the suit and she held it in front of her, glancing to Steve where he stood to her left. He flashed her a small smile which she returned before her helmet slid round her head.

“FRIDAY do me a favour and activate Barn Door Protocol” Tony announced as he stepped in line with Clint, a shield springing from his suit. Thor stepped in front of Rocket whilst Rhodey and Scott also fully engaged their suits.

“Yes boss,” she replied and around them all the facility went into lock down as shutters closed over the doors, windows and roof.

Katie engaged her scanners, checking the heads up display which was monitoring the energy levels on the stones and she moved her feet slightly apart, adopting an almost identical stance to Steve, their defences raised in front of them.

Bruce looked at the gauntlet in his hand for a second. “Everybody comes home,” and with that he slid his fingers into the glove which nanobotically expanded to fit his hand. There was a sudden whoosh, and as they watched, the stones lit up in different colours, tendrils of bright light spreading up Bruce’s arm as their power surged up towards his shoulder and neck. He cried out in pain, almost falling and Katie watched worriedly as the man continued to shout and groan, his teeth grit together.

“Bruce?” She asked as Steve shifted besides her, his legs apart ready to dive in if he had to. Bruce then crashed down to his knees, his face contorted in pain.

“Take it off. Take it off!” Thor cried out, starting towards him.

“No, wait!” Steve urged, holding his hand up. They knew something like this was going to happen, they’d seen the mess left of Thanos’ arm. But they couldn’t quit, not now. “Bruce, are you okay?“

“Talk to me, Banner.” Tony demanded.

“I’m okay, I’m okay!” Bruce grit out through his teeth, giving a jerky nod as Thor gave him two thumbs.

After what felt like hours, Bruce slowly raised his arm. With a final grit of his teeth, he moved his fingers and everyone braced themselves. Steve moved himself in front of his wife with his shield raised, even though she was probably more protected than he was, such was his force of habit. With a loud yell, and a laboured effort, Bruce snapped his fingers. Steve’s shield raised automatically over his face in an attempt to shield himself and Katie form the blinding white light that pulsed out from the Gauntlet, filling the room.

But it was gone as soon as it had appeared.

Steve had to admit he had expected more, but his concern at the moment was Bruce who collapsed backwards to the floor and the gauntlet slid off his hand dropping to the tiles with a clang.

“Bruce!” He called, kneeling down beside him as Clint booted the gauntlet across the room away from them all.

“Don’t move him.” Tony instructed as he dropped to his knees besides Bruce who was gripping onto Steve’s arm with his left hand, blinking in pain. Tony opened his palm, spraying Bruce’s right arm with foam to cool him off.

“Did it work?” Bruce breathed out, blinking slightly.

Katie glanced around, her helmet retracting as she did so. “I don’t know.” As she continued to look around for a clue, anything that would indicate if they’d been successful, she spotted Scott walking towards the windows of the facility, the blinds sliding back as the lock down reversed.

“Worth a shot.” Thor sighed, clearly having already decided it hadn’t. He knelt down besides Banner “It’s okay…”

As Steve, Tony and Thor tended to Bruce, Katie continued to watch Scott who stood by the window, his mouth forming a little O of surprise. She squinted, wondering what it was he had seen, and then she spotted a few birds in the tree on the patio area. She swallowed slightly, whilst birds hadn’t been uncommon in the five years, they had certainly been down in numbers, and it was unusual for four of them at once to be in a tree that small.

She was then distracted by Clint who had given a sharp intake of breath and she spun to watch him as he picked up his phone from one of the desks with a shaking hand.

“Honey?” He croaked, and Katie watched as his face contorted into raw emotion, his words failing to form out of the sheer emotion he was clearly feeling. “Honey?”

There was only one person that could be, and if it was her then…

“Guys, I think it worked,” Scott spoke from his spot and Katie took a deep breath as her own tears threatened to overwhelm her. She locked eyes with Steve, who glanced up at her, his own eyes shining as he smiled.

“We did it.” Katie breathed out, looking round as she gave a watery laugh, wiping away her tears. “Son of a bitch, we actually-“

But she didn’t get chance to finish her sentence as suddenly there was a huge explosion, and the ground fell open beneath her.

*****

Smoke. Fire. Ash. Gushing Water.

That was all Katie could see, hear and feel. She was vaguely aware that FRIDAY was yelling something in her ear. As she shook her head slightly, she groaned, waiting for her senses to catch up with the rest of her.

Then, she heard Tony, and as she moved to get up, she realised she couldn’t. There was something crushing her into the ground, something ridiculously heavy which was pressing on her back. She tried to push herself up, but the weight was too much.

And then it was gone, and a strong arm was hoisting her to her feet.

“Little Stark?” Thor asked as Katie gave another groan, retracting her helmet. “Are you okay?”

“No serious injuries detected.” FRIDAY informed her, and she nodded to the God.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good.” She blinked, looking around as she tried to figure out what the fuck had just happened. “Where’s…”

“I take it that wasn’t the snap.” Tony mumbled, distracting her as she glanced down to her left as he blasted away a piece of concrete that had been pinning his legs down. He stood up, and the three of them took a moment to look around where they were stood in the ruins of the compound, before Thor gave a lowly growl and walked to the edge of the blown apart building, looking down into the huge crater.

“No, it was him.” He nodded. Katie and Tony both walked towards him, drawing up on either side, and Katie gave a sharp gasp as she saw Thanos in a distance, sat on a rock.

“Where’s Steve?” Katie’s brain suddenly remembered who it was she’d been looking for earlier, and she, glancing round furiously. She engaged her helmet again and FRIDAY scanned the piles of rubble but she needn’t have bothered, she spotted him almost immediately. She quickly moved towards him, kicking some more rubble and wreckage out of the way before she dropped gently to Steve’s side where he lay unconscious, FRIDAY informing her that his life signs were fine.

“Stevie?” She he said gently, shaking his shoulder. “Come on honey, wake up.” With a sharp intake of breath, Steve’s eyes flew open and Katie let out a sigh of relief, as she looked up to see Tony smiling, Steve’s shield on his arm.

“That’s my man.” Tony nodded, leaning down towards Steve who glanced up, his breathing evening out. “Lose this again,” Tony held out the shield, “I’m keeping it.”

Steve grimaced and turned to look at his wife. “You okay?” “Yeah.” She nodded, “turns out Tony’s suits are pretty good, who knew huh?” Tony scoffed as Steve blinked, getting his bearings, taking in the debris and rubble of the compound. “What happened?”

“You mess with time it tends to mess back,” Tony spoke gently, glancing at Katie sniffed a little, wiping at her nose, fear flickering across her face. “You’ll see.”

“Thanos?” Steve swallowed, and Katie nodded. Steve exhaled again as Tony helped him to his feet and the three of them walked over to Thor, who was stood exactly where Katie and Tony had left him earlier.

“What’s he been doing?” Tony asked, standing to Thor’s left as Katie stood to the God’s right in between him and her husband as the four of them glanced down at the Titan.

“Absolutely nothing.” Thor’s voice was low.

Steve had no idea how the Titan was there, but he didn’t really give a shit either. There was one thing they had to do, and that was all that mattered.

“Where are the stones?” He asked.

“Somewhere under all this,” Katie gestured to pile of ruins under their feet. “All we know is that he doesn’t have them.”

“So we keep it that way.” Steve spoke simply, steely determination lacing his voice, his eyes not moving from the Titan.

“You know this is a trap, right?” Thor asked, his gaze also locked on the large warrior.

“Yeah. I don’t much, care.” Tony replied with a shrug.

“Good. Just as long as we’re all in agreement.” Thor nodded, and with that there was a large crack of thunder. Bright beams and shards of lightning surround the God as he stretched out both his hands to summon Stormbreaker and Mjolnir. His casual clothes transformed into his armour and cape, his beard flowing into a braid, giving him a distinctive Viking Warrior look as his eyes glowed bright white, every inch of his face lined with fury.

“Good to have you back, Thunder God.” Katie smiled at him as he took a deep breath, the lightning dying down as he looked over her shoulder at Steve, who nodded at him.

“Let’s kill him properly this time.” Thor’s voice was a low growl as he jumped off the edge of the ruins they were stood on, landing with a loud crash on the ground. Katie moved to one side of Steve, wrapping her arm around his as Tony did the same, the three of them flying forward and landing with a little more grace than Thor had done.

Once more the four of them exchanged looks before the started to walk cautiously towards Thanos, but Katie stopped as Steve pulled on her arm.

“You need to promise me.” He looked at her as her. “If this starts to go sideways…” “I think we’re a bit past that.” She breathed out and Steve shook his head, looking down.

“Baby, the kids. I need you to promise me that if it looks like, well, you need to go back for them.” “Steve.” Katie took a shaky breath, her eyes filling with tears. “There’s no point making me promise anything like that, because if we don’t get rid of him, then there might not be anything to go back for.”

Her words hit him harder than any punch could, and Steve felt his chest contract, painfully. He tore his eyes off her which were now full of tears as he looked up at Tony and Thor who continued to advance ahead of them, his hand running down his face.

She was right and whilst he wanted her as far away as possible, with their kids, safe, he knew it was futile because nothing was safe now. He could send her away, get her out of the fight, but if they failed then she was as good as dead anyway, they all were.

Because Steve didn’t believe for a second that Thanos would make the mistake of leaving who died this time round down to chance.

“If we go, we go.” Katie’s voice ripped him from his thoughts as he turned back to her, the tears in her eyes dancing with the flames that reflected from the various fires dotted around. “We have to try or they don’t stand a chance. Whatever it takes.”

Steve couldn’t bring himself to reply. Instead he gave her a curt nod and the two of them strode forward to confront the man who had haunted their dreams for the past five years.

“You could not live with your own failure,” Thanos spoke for the first time as they drew closer. “Where did that bring you? Back to me. I thought by eliminating half of life the other half would thrive. But you’ve shown me that’s impossible.”

The four of them split up, as they began to surround Thanos, circling him, whilst he spoke.

“As long as there are those that remembered what was, there are always those that are unable to accept what can be. They will resist.”

“Yeah, we’re all kinds of stubborn.” Tony continued his pacing to stand behind the Titan.

“I’m thankful, because now I know what I must do,” Thanos stood up, “I will shred this universe down to its last atom.” He reached for his helmet which had been propped up on the edge of his double edged blade where it was stuck into the ground in front of him. “And then with the stones that you’ve collected for me,” he placed the helmet on top of his head, “I’ll create a new one, teeming with life,” he pulled his weapon from the ground, twirling it in his large hand, “that knows not what is lost, only what has been given,”

There was a rush and a flash as the lighting flew round Thor’s axe and hammer, his eyes flashing as he stood to Thanos’ left, Katie now to his right.

“A grateful universe.” Thanos concluded.

“Born out of blood,” Steve glared up at the man, anger lancing through every cell in his body.

“They’ll never know it,” Thanos cocked his head to the right, “because you won’t be alive to tell them.”

At that, having heard enough, Thor gave a loud cry as he surged forward, beginning the fight. Tony and Katie both launched into the air and Steve threw himself in, shield first, as the four of them began to work in tandem.

Lightning flashed, shots fired, metal clanged on metal as they all deployed their various weapons. It was brutal, hard, just as Steve had remembered from Wakanda, only this time they were engaged directly with the Titan, and it was fast becoming apparent that this Thanos was equally as vicious an opponent than his future self had been.

“Okay, Thor. Hit me.” Tony’s voice rang over Steve’s comms as Katie flew up out of the way of the Titan’s sword as he swung it at her, deflecting the shot she’d taken at him from her repulsors.

As Steve launched his shield again, Thor banged his axe and hammer together, charging Tony’s suit with lightening. Tony then shot the extra energy out using his hands and body, Katie joining him as she hovered off to the left. Thanos twirled his blade in front of him, diverting the energy and Steve gave a yell as it rebounded back to Katie, her suit taking a full shot causing her to fly off to the side, colliding harshly with a huge piece of the compound structure, falling to the floor.

With a roar of rage, Thor grabbed Stormbreaker and used it to bat his hammer to hit Thanos, who used Tony as a shield, casting the man aside where he too landed harshly, remaining motionless on the ground.

Steve launched forward but was flung away, landing and taking a heavy thump to the head. With a groan, he blinked away the spots of light that had formed in front of his eyes from the impact of the blow, and glanced around, giving a sigh of relieve as he saw Katie was pushing herself up on her hands, rising to all fours. With the ringing still in his ears, he then saw Thanos pounding down on Thor, Tony still motionless in the background.

With a loud grunt, Steve ground his teeth together in stubborn determination and reached out to push himself up, but he paused when a sudden shock of warmth vibrated up his arm. He instantly glanced down at his hand and realised he’d flattened his palm against Thor’s hammer, not the ground. He frowned for a moment, as the vibrations continued. It felt like the throb of his motorbike engine, a warm purr. The last time he had tried to move, sure, it had given a little, but he hadn’t felt anything like that…

Could he? Was it possible?

With an automatic movement, one that seemed completely out of his control, Steve rose to his feet and reached out, gripping the handle. He sucked in a breath and as he pulled up his arm, the hammer came with him.

**** With a groan, Katie blinked, shaking off the daze that had descended over her thanks to the heavy blow she’d taken from Tony’s deflected fire. She looked around, the ringing loud in her ears as she saw Thanos flip Thor to the floor, pressing him back up against a rock. Thor reached for his axe, and as the pair of them grappled, Thanos gained the upper hand and began to attempt to push Stombreaker through Thor’s chest.

Immediately, Katie took off and began to fly towards Thor, raising her palms to shoot a beam at Thanos, but as she neared something whizzed straight across her path and she stopped dead in the air, her sight focussed on Mjolnir as it soared towards Thanos, where it whacked him harshly in the side of the head, sending him flying away. It carried on for a while before it stopped, and boomeranged back right round but it didn’t stop at Thor.

Instead it continued, and Katie felt her mouth drop open as she followed it with her eyes as it flew into Steve’s waiting hand, his fingers curling round the handle as he caught it.

“Holy shit…” She spluttered at the same time as Thor breathed a little smugly into the comms.

“I knew it!”

Steve was wielding the hammer. Steve Rogers, the kid from Brooklyn that was too dumb to run away from a fight was worthy.

But then, as Katie watched him turn to look at Thanos, hammer in hand, that determined expression on his face as he sized up his opponent, she realised there was no one else more worthy than the man who had done nothing but continually put his life on the line for others.

Thanos kicked Thor harshly in the chest sending him straight through the rock he was up against and then Steve proceeded to charge at Thanos, swinging Mjolnir. He caught Thanos perfectly on the chin with an upper cut from the hammer, which sent him flying through the air, where he landed, and jumped up.

Katie took off towards the two, as Steve launched his shield, but Thanos deflected it easily. As it swung back towards him, Steve threw the hammer straight at it, creating a shockwave which knocked Thanos back off his feet.

Then, the Captain went completely on the offensive, shield and hammer flying through the air again and again before he lined his arm back up and summonsed the lighting. Shooting a shock at Thanos he blasted the Titan off his feet before Katie landed in front of him giving a yell. Just as Thor had done before to Tony, he charged up her suit and she powered everything she had into the Titan as he lay on the floor.

Steve drew to her side as she unloaded, but before she could say or do anything else Thanos’ sword flew back at her and she dodged out of the way, but wasn’t quite quick enough. It hit her hard in the chest and sent her skidding backwards against the floor where she collided with a metal pipe.

Thanos advanced on Steve, menacingly swinging his weapon and, one on one, Steve was no match for him. He lost the hammer and, after receiving a nasty stab to the leg and gash to his arm, he could do nothing but hold his shield up to deflect the blow that was coming his way.

Only it didn’t. Thanos’ double edged weapon sank straight into the Vibranium like it was butter.

Steve looked at it in shock and horror, never once had anything ever penetrated the metal, but he didn’t have chance to think about it as the blows continued. Pieces of his shield were shearing away left, right and centre and then Thanos picked him up by the front of his suit and tossed him aside like he was a rag doll.

He landed harshly a few feet away from Katie and rolled onto his back, his eyes closing and his chest heaving with exertion. He gave a little gulp, a low gasp that was almost a cry flew from his mouth as he felt sheer desperation flood his system, the faces of his kids and his wife flashing through his mind.

Steve Rogers might be worthy, but he was beat.

**** Chapter 57

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #Katie Stark #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #mcu #mcu fanfic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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