#which. well. i think the summary makes clear the outcome of this friendship.
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"No one knows what happened to you here, do they?"
Summary: After he awakens Eternatus, Chairman Rose wakes up days later in the hospital, with a Wishing Star where his heart used to be. It's clear he won't find answers if he turns himself in, so he decides to take his leave and search on his own–but as a man on the run, he's forced to seek help from questionable characters who don't always have his best interests in mind.
Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, body horror; later chapters have character death.
it's chapter two! have fun!
#pokemon#pokemon swsh#pokémon#pokémon swsh#chairman rose#& friends! insofar as you can consider [spoiler] a friend.#which. well. i think the summary makes clear the outcome of this friendship.
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Sicktember #26
Prompt #26: Tickle in the Throat
Character(s): Jonathan Lindsay (remember him?)
Title: Suffering in Silence
Summary: Perhaps Jonathan Lindsay should not have gone into Parliament with a brewing cold; in any case, he is here now, and he will not interrupt the proceedings by coughing.
Notes: If any of you were a fly on the wall back in the day, you may recognize the lines of Parliamentary speech that I stole directly from Edmund Burke’s 1774 speech On American Taxation to the House of Commons. Considering this takes place 20 years before and in the House of Lords, you may be like why, but just remember this is, at the end of the day, a snz fic and I stole the least interesting and most generic bits.
On a good day, listening to the petty gripes and cosseted rhetoric of his fellow Lords at Parliament gave Jonathan Lindsay a headache, but on a day such as this one when his head was already pounding without such assistance–well, he was beginning to entertain a private fantasy of bashing his temples in with the speaker’s gavel. Sarah had recognized his headache the moment he blinked at her in the morning sunlight (and really, when had they started deciphering each other’s pain based on some sort of invisible semaphore?) and advised him not to go, for he would soon be falling ill. Jonathan agreed with her on the outcome but not the time frame, arguing that he had at least another day of a throbbing head before the rest of his symptoms followed, and so he could last a day in Parliament.
But now, he was beginning to wonder whether his wife did not possess some powers of divination. Jonathan’s throat was beginning to tickle, but it absolutely would not do to cough. He resolved to do his best to ignore it, but the speech currently being given to the Lords by Baron Lord George Southcote was not providing the type of riveting distraction needed to make such a thing possible.
“It is so said in the paper in my hand.” Southcote held up the paper for emphasis, and Jonathan felt his headache grow. “A paper which I constantly carry about; which I have often used, and shall often use again…”
Perhaps a small clearing of the throat would rid him of the sensation.
“Though I find myself mistaken…”
If anything, the endeavor to clear his throat only increased Jonathan’s urgent need to cough, and so he changed course. Perhaps if he exhaled forcefully, his body would be fooled into thinking he had coughed, and would be satisfied and allow him to be rid of this torment.
“…he will still permit me to use the privilege of an old friendship; he will permit me to apply myself to the House under the sanction of his authority…”
Jonathan tried a half-cough, a breathy, airy little thing, which somehow made his throat itch all the more.
“...and, on the various grounds he has measured out, to submit to you the poor opinions which I have formed upon a matter of importance….”
If the man continued on in this manner, Jonathan truly did not know if he could survive the session. He had not even glimpsed the barest glint of an argument beginning to form on Southcote’s lips, and already there were tears pricking at Jonathan’s eyes from the effort of trying to restrain his coughs. Still, he focused on controlling them with all the discipline of the harshest aesthetic.
“...enough to demand the fullest consideration I could bestow upon it.”
Since attempting to suppress his coughs by sheer force of will was clearly not working, Jonathan tried to meet the next paroxysm with a well-timed swallow. Unfortunately, this led to a veritable burning in his throat, as well as a split-second eruption, before Jonathan could clamp his mouth shut and reign in the sound once more.
The interruption turned a few heads, but did not capture the attention of Lord Southcote, who droned on as unflappably as ever. “He has stated to the House two grounds of deliberation…”
As Southcote continued on, oblivious to Jonathan’s private misery, Jonathan found himself increasingly willingly to trade not-insignificant fineries for a throat so robust as his. For here Jonathan was, throat dry as a tobacco leaf and struggling to keep quiet after scarcely having said a word all day, meanwhile Southcote could prattle for hours about nothing at all with a voice smooth as silk and strong as iron.
“But before I go into that large consideration, because I would omit nothing that can give the House satisfaction…”
With no end to either of his present miseries in sight, Jonathan resolved to grant himself a real, albeit controlled cough in the hopes that it would satisfy the infernal urge once and for all. The instant he did so, however, he realized it for the folly it was. Once the cough burst forth from his lungs it was louder and wetter than he had intended, and it took far longer to get under control than he had anticipated.
To finish it out, and insult him further, it culminated in a sneeze, which he pinched between his fingers. “Heh’PSHH!”
Brilliant, he thought, feeling suddenly exhausted and swelteringly hot beneath his collar. Now he would have to find a way to ward those off as well.
Jonathan was working out a way to swallow around his prickly throat without coughing yet again, when he felt something bump against his thigh. “You sound like you desperately need this,” Lord William Petre said lowly, his handkerchief extended across Jonathan’s lap.
It was only when Jonathan took the proffered cloth that he realized why William had offered it the way he had; stowed within its folds was a small flask, embossed with gold and ivory. Jonathan bit back his smile and took care to keep the flask covered, raising the handkerchief to his face as if to tend to his nose and carefully drinking from the hidden flask. Warm liquid trickled down his throat and offered him the first relief he had felt all day.
“Thank you,” he murmured once he had finished.
“If I have to listen to you and Southcote like this for another hour, I am in serious danger of stringing myself up by my hair ribbons and ending my misery.”
Jonathan almost scoffed before he thought better of it. “Your misery!”
William’s mouth was open to reply, when the speaker’s gavel shook the room like a minor earthquake. “Does the Baronet Petre have an objection to Lord Southcote?”
“None at all, sir,” William said mildly, with a courteous inclination of the head. Once Southcote had begun to speak again, he leaned closer to Jonathan and whispered, “That would require there being a point in the first place for me to object to.”
Jonathan stifled a laugh, and the action was his undoing. In its place sprang forth a violent fit of coughs he was absolutely powerless to suppress; he could merely clutch William’s handkerchief to his mouth like a talisman and wait for the spasms to pass. He was dimly aware that Southcote had stopped speaking again, but far more pressing at the moment was the need to gulp in air at any available moment. Once the fit was finally beginning to settle, and he could draw in breath with shaky gasps, he felt his breath hitch, and he tiredly resigned himself to the inevitable. At least the handkerchief was already in place.
“HETCHOO! Hihh’TCHHH! Ihhh’TCHHH!”
The speaker regarded him with a disinterested mien. “Perhaps Lord Viscount Lindsay is too ill for the day’s proceedings?”
“I think I am indeed, sirs,” he said, sounding, if possible, as though his voice had been raked along hot coals. “If you will excuse me.”
“Lucky bastard,” William said as Jonathan slipped the flask back into his lap before standing to take his leave. “Maybe I should start coughing. How quickly can you catch a cold?”
#my writing#ocs: jonathan and sarah#though she's not really in this one#sicktember 2022#sicktember day 26#the world needs so much more historic snz fic#as someone who'd rather die than cough in a silent setting like class etc.#i've got a LOT of experience with this#snzfic
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224 || G.W.
George Weasley x Reader, Soulmate AU
Genre: Fluff, humor
Summary: Each soulmate pair receives a special number to them, and them only, on the day they’re born into this world. The placement on the body can vary, so people usually keep to themselves unless they fancy someone or it’s displayed somewhere public. How do you go around explaining to your best friend that he’s the one?
A/N: i have been so inactive, I’m so sorry rip I am going to try to post a fic here and there, but I’m still a student doing student things... This blog recently turned 2 years old, and has reached about 300 followers, so thank you so much for those of you who have found me in the piles of other wonderful works :) I love you all from the bottom of my heart.
--x--
“Oh, do forgive me, Georgie,” you playfully shove him out of the way. He stumbles away from the shelf containing the last package of Fizzing Whizbees in time for you to snatch it into your hands. You hear him chuckle as he regains his balance behind you. It’s suffocatingly crowded with fellow students in Honeydukes, so he leans in close so you can hear him.
His warm breath comes close to your ear, saying with a soft laugh,” At least share, alright?”
You tapped your chin thoughtfully as the smile plastered on your face turned into a smirk. You make your way to the cashier with George close behind. The candy in the box shake in your hands, and the decorative ring you’re wearing on your middle finger glimmers in the shop’s light. You call over your shoulder,” If you win the next match against Slytherin, I might.”
This statement alone had George fist pump the air in satisfaction. Even if he lost, you would most likely share it anyways –– to cheer him up, of course. You two have been best friends since your first year when you cleverly evaded one of the twins’ pranks. It was a lucky guess, but the outcome left Fred and George tangled in a mess of burping up slugs for three hours. It was an easy friendship after that, other than the secret feelings you harbored for George, that is.
Soon enough, the match came and the sight was an absolutely thrilling one. You watch as each player flies by, and each time the wind sweeps your hair in every direction. Fred and George are on a spectacular streak, and they never once miss the bludger. Thankfully you had a pair of binoculars and Lee Jordan’s commentary; the team was so small in the air that it was hard to tell what was happening.
Harry Potter was no doubt going to catch the snitch, and here he comes now swooping in underneath his teammates. He’s almost flat against his broomstick, urging it to go faster before Malfoy could get to the fluttering golden speck. All eyes are on Potter, and the boy is mere inches away. Just as his nimble fingers wrap around the snitch, another Gryffindor teammate drops from the air.
You can hear the subtle gasps from a few in the crowd who noticed. The Gryffindor team were too enraptured with Harry’s catch to notice that one of them was dropping ten, twenty, thirty meters to the ground. “George!” You cried.
As if sending a telepathic message to the other twin, though it is most likely he heard you yell as clear as day, Fred swoops down to save his brother from impact. You notice now that you're standing on your feet and leaning on the railing that separates you from your best friends on the field. You watch on in horror as Fred barely makes it in time. The breath you didn’t know you were holding finally escapes you, and your surroundings come back all at once.
You hear the deafening silence and the sound of the wind blowing by. No one moves as they watch Fred land on the ground with George. It was Lee who ended the tension,” And with that, Gryffindor earns 130 points and has won the match…”
All at once, everyone in the stands scrambles to get out. Elated with Harry’s catch and the twins’ safety, the student body goes their separate ways. You follow them as well and weave your way through the crowd to get to Fred and George. Panic fills your lungs, and every fiber in your body screams to make sure they’re okay.
“Fred!” You call out,” Are you two alright?”
“Yeah, no harm done to me,” he sighs,” –– Other than this git. A bludger whacked him straight on the side and he passed out on his ride down.”
“It looks like it hurts… but it’s nothing Madame Pomfrey can’t handle, right?” You wince. You try to convince yourself that George is just sleeping a very deep, restful sleep.
“I reckon he’ll be fine, y/n.” Fred winks your way with a sly grin. “Visit him lots, yeah?”
Madame Pomfrey refused to let anyone in until she was done running some tests. When she finally let you visit, you rushed to sit next to George’s bedside. He stirred at your frantic movements and opened an eye to see you. “It’s not that bad is it?” He chuckles.
“She said that you’ve broken a few ribs, but you’ll be alright.” You smile.
George sits up slowly, pretending to be in agonizing pain. You worry for a bit and reach out to him on instinct, but he laughs and tells you he’s okay. His torso is wrapped entirely with gauze over his clothes, and there are a few bandages wrapped around his forearms as well. Pomfrey had drawn a blanket over George earlier, so the white sheet still covered the lower half of his body. A moment goes by, and you hear a soft wheeze leaving George’s lips. “You don’t suppose my soulmate is into beaten up ginger-heads, do you?”
“Well,” you mull over your words. Pretending to take his question seriously, you answer,” they would have if you were Fred..” You laugh a little as you catch the glint in his eyes –– the mischievous one you had grown to love.
“Oh, if only I looked exactly like that bloke.” He jokes. His head falls a little forward as he laughs. His gaze is drawn to his lap, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say that he looked like those shy love interests in romantic muggle films.
You notice that his fiery hair is covering his eyes, and your body compels you to get another glimpse of that wonderful boy’s face. Ever so gently, you reach your hand out and tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear. When your fingers curve around the back of his ear, you notice a few dark marks of what looks like a tattoo. Your eyebrows furrow together in confusion. You go to move more of his hair out of the way, but he turns his eyes to you.
“Are you getting handsy with me y/n? Tryin’ to make a move, are you?” He smiles, but there is a small panic in his eyes as they frantically search yours. “You could’ve just asked me out, you know.”
“Is that your soulmate mark?” You ask.
“Maybe.”
“Well,” you huff playfully,” I might be able to tell you who your soulmate is. I might cry if your soulmate is Madame Pomfrey, though.”
“Is that a bad thing?” He asks, a playful tone in his voice.
"Georgie, please don’t tell me you have a thing for milfs.”
It takes everything in him to hold back his laughter. George pulls his hair back to reveal the numbers 224 etched behind his left ear. Your breath catches in your throat, but you try to hide your very obvious shock. 224 was a number you knew too well, and seeing that number reflected on your best friend’s skin meant that your deepest feelings were true. It’s okay to be in love with George because now... now there is chance he feels the same way.
Your mark is tattooed on the band of your middle finger, which is usually covered up by jewelry. You fidget with your rings nervously, trying to ground yourself all the while. George doesn’t pay too much attention to it when he says,“Fred has his numbers on his right ear. I might be the right-hand man, but he’s lucky enough to be the right-ear man.”
You laugh at his really bad pun,” Really? Out of all of the ear jokes, you chose that one?”
“It made you laugh, didn’t it?” He nudges you with his shoulder, and you can’t help but giggle some more.
“Would you like to hear a fun fact?” You ask. You gulp down all of the fear that has started to swallow you whole. You are George’s soulmate. The idea buzzes in your head along with a million other thoughts. George nods for you to continue, and you fight the panicked urge to scream. “...In the muggle world, they have such advanced technology.”
“Yeah, dad would know––” George interjects for a second.
“The numbers 224 actually hold a meaning to them. It’s something like a code–– it’s related to their fancy devices I think? Anyways,” you take a deep breath. You remember vividly the details your friend went to great lengths explaining to you.
“Your number is all kinds of special, y/n!” Mae beams at you. Her eyes twinkle in an amusing manner as she tries to prove herself. A soft thud could be heard when her hands meet with the common room table, and she quickly jumps to her feet. “Imagine, having such a fantastic number as that!” She exclaims with awe.
“I don’t understand?” You bemusedly remark. Why would numbers hold more meanings beyond your standard soulmate reason?
“My brother loves binary code, a certain muggle science,” she explains,” and he told me a few meanings. One of them being yours! Now, if only fate would tell us who your soulmate was...”
If Mae were in this room, she would be bursting at the seams from pure glee. You look into George’s eyes and say,” ...the numbers actually mean something along the lines of ‘Today, Tomorrow, Forever.’ It has to do with the bond you and your soulmate have together.“
He blinks once or twice before breaking out into a grin,” Okay, can you say it again but,” he emphasizes,” simpler, maybe?
“––it means that your soulmate will love an accident-prone idiot like you forever and always,” You joke halfheartedly.
The familiar gleaming smile he wore after a successful prank creeps up onto his face: one of self satisfaction and deserving of many awards based on looks alone. His smile is much gentler and you almost miss it, but a blush tints the very tips of his cheeks. “Oh? wait ‘till dad finds out that numbers have meanings to muggles. How’d you know all of this anyway?”
“Oh, it’s just something my friend talked to me about.” You dismiss his questioning gaze and clear your throat. Every second that passes makes you more and more anxious being around George, simply just by knowing you two are soulmates. It’s a dream come true, sure. But how do you go around explaining to your best friend that he’s the one?
“Are you alright, y/n?” George asks. “You seem real fidgety. Do you need to go somewhere?”
“Oh–– no, it just that,” you gulp. “Well.. I think left the Fizzing Whizbees back in my dorm room.” You lie. You know it’s in your bag with your other belongings, safely tucked away for later consumption. “Post-game snacks are essential, and I did make a promise.”
“Are you sure you left it there? I thought I saw it in your bag...” He leans over to find your bag, and sure enough, he pulls out the box of candy.
“Oh.” You look at him. There’s an awkward pause before he clears his throat.
“You’ve really got to get yourself together mate–– looks like Nearly Headless Nick showed you his neck hole again or something.” George jokes to lighten the mood, but he’s right. The longer you sit there and stare at him, the more you either want to slam your lips against his or vomit profusely. You feel pale and sickly; just enough to feel the twists and turns of your stomach. Is this what having butterflies feel like? He opens the bag of candy and offers you some.
You share the box of whizbees with him, taking one out and popping them into your mouth. It fizzes and jolts a little as the sweet taste melts on your tongue. “I think maybe Fred slipped something to me earlier,” you avert your gaze,” I’m not sure.”
“Yeah, sounds like Fred.” George grabs your hand and looks you in the eyes. He’s rubbing soothing circles on your hands, and it does seem to relax some of your nerves. He looks at you softly and gently, and all at once, your anxiety starts to melt away in his presence. You almost forget why you’re so worried in the first place. “You know I’m not going anywhere. If you have to take a massive shit, I’ll wait for you.” He says as he pats your hand reassuringly.
You erupt into laughter and shove him away. “And here I thought we were having a moment.”
“Nothing says true love like bowl movements, darling.”
As the laughter dies down, the somber feeling in your gut returns. It’s now or never, right? “George, I think I need to tell you something. I—“
Fred bursts into the door with Lee following shortly behind. “There’s my favorite twin!” He beams. He gets a disapproving look from Madame Pomfrey peering around the corner from her office. Fred doesn’t pay much attention, choosing to walk past her with barely a glance over his shoulder. George rolls his eyes as Fred happily trots over, spilling some liquid from two mugs in his hands. “—had to have Lee help sneak these in for the party, which you lot are missing out on.” He hands you a mug of butter beer and George, the other.
You decide to drop the subject even after George was free from the hospital bed. It’s a few weeks since then, and school has made you push those thoughts of pesky soulmates and true love aside. Of course, George kept looking at you funny, waiting for you to bring it up again. To his dismay, you didn’t.
“Alright everyone, class is dismissed.” Professor Sprout announces as she busies herself in setting up plants for the next day. It’s the last class of the day, and you couldn’t be happier. Repotting plants was hard work, and you were sweaty enough as it is. Beads of sweat dripped down the side of your face, and as much as you hated it, it did make for good eye candy across the room — namely George, although there’s a lot of dirt smudged onto his face too.
He’s cleaning up rather quickly so you call out to him,” Can you grab my rings, Georgie? They’re over there by my bag.” You had to remove jewelry in order to “safely handle” the creatures and wear proper gloves. Those of which you hastily pull off to wash your hands. The suds come and go as you lather and rinse away in the sink.
“Today, tomorrow, forever eh?” George’s deep voice rumbles in your ear. You jump a little at the sudden scare. “I think I like the sound of that, don’t you?”
You turn your head a little to the side and come very close to George’s face. You can feel his breath fanning on your skin, and his nose is just barely touching yours. You fear that if you blink, the sight in front of you will vanish. Every freckle that glitters his skin is so close you could count them like the stars and draw constellations between them if you wanted to. It’s absolutely breathtaking. Your body feels like it’s on a cloud— so feather light and airy— as he smiles at you. Your throat is dry; your tongue struggles to keep up with your thoughts. “...what?” You choke out. You cover your hands on impulse, but you know it’s too late.
“It means you’re stuck with me forever, y/n.” He grins. “Soulmate magic is no joke, you know.” He hands you your rings and walks beside you out of the greenhouse. You slip the rings on to your middle finger where it’s always resided, deciding to fidget with it a little.
Nothing should be different. You’re walking with George in the hallways like you always do, your hair is no different than yesterday, and class was the same as an other day. And yet your heart is beating faster and the sun seems to shine brighter. The grass is greener and the lake bluer than it was this morning. Words remain unspoken, but the truth is there. His fingers are interlocked with yours. 224.
#george weasley#george#weasley#fred weasley#fred#harry potter#hogwarts#hogwarts fanfic#george weasley fluff#george weasley fanfic#hp#hp fanfic#hp fluff#oneshot#george weasley one shot#george weasley oneshot#fluff#george weasley soulmate#soulmate au#soulmates#soulmate#how many more keywords do i need#gryffindor#ravenclaw#hufflepuff#slytherin#george weasley x reader#x reader#fred weasley x reader#hp x reader
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Rude! (3,000+ Follower Fic Special 1/3)
Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Female!Hopper!Reader
Warnings: Swearing, Billy stuff, lyrics, fluff
Song: Rude by Magic!
Words: 1,798
Summary: Billy's love for Hopper's daughter is too strong to be stopped by the tough Chief Jim Hopper. Despite being told "not in a thousand years", he plans to love her regardless.
Note: Thank you so so much! I love you all, and writing your ideas, as well as sharing mine with you, has been so fucking fun and amazing! I'm sorry for my lack of words, I wish being an author came in handy with writing this, however, all I can say is that I love you all from the bottom of my heart. I've seen people do shout-outs, and ask-related stuff with their follower things, and I may do that, I'm not sure. For now, I hope you enjoy this... Thank you all, again!
Also 1/3 means that there will be two other fics released for the 3,000+ follower present!
Taglist: @urie-bowie-mercury, @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @fandom-puff, @darling-i-read-it, @simonsbluee, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow, @dpaccione
Masterlist | Stranger Things Masterlist
"Saturday morning, jumped out of bed and put on my best suit. Got in my car and raced like a jet all the way to you. Knocked on your door with my heart in my hands, to ask you a question, 'cause I know that you're an old-fashioned man. Yeah."
Billy was freshly graduated, working as a lifeguard whilst his girlfriend worked her own job, both saving up for their chance to ditch Hawkins and move to California. Sweet Cali. Billy was excited to show the love of his life around the place he called home. Though, physically, he left the salty ocean and windy beach behind, the place never truly left him.
You could see it in his eyes. The waves crashing in his blue orbs. He swore the scent had just barely clung to his belongings; the smell of the tangy air that followed a majority of the state. Working at a pool was the closest he got to the memory of California. Chlorine was most certainly not the salted ocean waters, but with the circumstances, he decided it'd do.
The way his face lit up whenever he talked about his home...it made Y/n more and more excited to see it. His girlfriend had grown up in Hawkins, stayed there her whole life. Never once did the Hoppers leave Hawkins.
But the second that was introduced to Billy, he knew it had to change.
Although they were saving for a big move, Billy had...other things in mind with what to do with his first large pay-check (or series, rather. Working as a lifeguard didn't pay well with just one check). He began to work more shifts to make up for the money he'd spent, and one day after calling in for a day off, he decided to put his plan into action.
"Billy, stop messing with the tie."
"It's annoying." Hands slapped away his attempts of adjusting the black silk tie.
"Well it won't stop being annoying if you keep fucking it up."
For the first time in a long time, Neil Hargrove was calm. Not happy, not amused, not pissed off for some unjust reason- just calm. He wasn't wreaking havoc and he wasn't being an asshole to his son. Billy hadn't seen this side of his dad in quite some time, in fact, he thought something important was going on and he was about to fuck it all up. And then, Susan retreated to the living room with a camera and a freshly ironed suit.
"You're not putting me in that."
"And who asked for your opinion?" Neil deflected with a raised brow. One heavy sigh later and Billy was leaving the bathroom, dawning the whole black and white getup.
Susan clasped her hands over her mouth, a tear leaving her eye, "You look so handsome! Just like your dad!"
Billy rolled his eyes, "Great."
However, his careless attitude was swept under the rug when the blue Camaro pulled up to the police station, interrupting a clearly distressed Chief Hopper bickering with his daughter. Billy had to get himself together before stepping out of the car, jaw slack after seeing the beauty he got to call his date.
"Hello Mr-"
"Don't even try play nice with me, Hargrove. She's not going anywhere with you. End of story." Hopper kept his eyes trained on the blond, body tense like a snake preparing to strike it's prey.
Y/n grabbed Billy's arm, slowly directing him to the car, "And in the sequel, we find out I am going with Billy. End of that story."
"There is no 'sequel.' The writer got drunk and lazy." She paused, turning to face her father who stood tall, arms crossed and face unamused.
"So his daughter picked up where her father left off, and then the sequel was published and the two lived happily ever after, the end."
While her dad attempted to search for a line that would better hers and force her to stay, she pushed Billy toward the driver's side and slid into the car as fast as she could, rolling down the window as Billy started it up. "Bye! I'll be back before midnight!"
The two drove off toward the school, leaving behind a trail of dust and very, very, pissed off Hopper.
Prom was better than Billy thought it would be. He didn't want to go at first, but after Max found out and spoke to her mom about it (the little redhead a cupid-in-the-making), Neil pushed him to go (as he was "doing something else besides being a lazy-no-good rebel"). It was then that he called Y/n and asked if she'd be going.
The suit came in handy. Clashing with his rocker aesthetic, he put it back on once more. The once-annoying tie proved to be somewhat okay in the end.
Can I have your daughter for the rest of my life? Say yes, say yes, 'cause I need to know. You say I'll never get your blessing "till the day I die, tough luck my friend, but the answer is no!"
Why you gotta be so rude? Don't you know I'm human too? Why you gotta be so rude? I'm gonna marry her anyway. Marry that girl, marry her anyway! Marry that girl, yeah, no matter what you say! Marry that girl, and we'll be a family! Why you gotta be so rude?
With a deep breath, he ran-over the conversation in his head once more. Like a script for an actor, he had thought of every possible outcome and every possible line for him to face it with. He almost chickened out as his fist rose to the door, but it was too late, for his knuckles rapped against it before he realized he was even knocking.
El opened the door, eyes wide when she saw the familiar mullet and button-down. "Papa..." She muttered as she backed away and out of view.
Hopper traded places with her, his lazy expression sobering up instantaneously, replaced with a grumpy scowl. "Hargrove."
"Mr. Hopper, sir."
"What are you doing on my front porch?"
He swallowed roughly, palms sweaty against his sides. "I was wondering if I could talk to you."
"You seem to be doing just that right now, Hargrove." Hop crossed his arms and clenched his jaw.
Well, this was certainly not something Billy had thought of. He was on panic mode internally, attempting to find any response that could save his hide and accomplish what he set out to do. Unfortunately, the word-vomit button seemed to be misplaced under the button labeled "help".
"I'd like to marry your daughter, sir."
Hop's eyes grew just as big in size as El's had when she opened the door. He choked on his own surprise, coughing it off, then glaring at the boy in front of him. "Over my dead body, Hargrove. If that's all, I'd strongly advise you to get off of my fucking porch while you're still alive."
I hate to do this, you leave no choice; can't live without her. Love me or hate me, we will be boys- standing at that alter. And we will fly away, to another galaxy, you know. You know she's in love with me, she will go anywhere I go-
"Billy, he's just stubborn."
"No, no, I don't think he likes me."
Y/n sighed, rubbing her boyfriend's back. He hadn't told her of his proposal plans, only that Hop seemed to have it out for him. "It'll take time, but he'll warm up to you!"
"It's been how many years since he's met me?"
"To be fair, your reputation wasn't doing you any good until now..."
"It's not like that was fucking obvious." He slouched further down in the front seat of his Camaro. To Billy, all hope was lost. If he couldn't get Hopper to give him his blessing, he was sure he'd lose his goddamned mind.
Y/n frowned. Her frown flipped around as an idea popped into her head, her lips finding Billy's knuckles and quirking his attention. "Even if he never likes you, I'm not going anywhere."
Billy laughed softly, "he'll fucking kill me if you go against him."
"Eh, that's only if he can catch us."
"You're out of your fucking mind, Y/n Hopper."
"I know."
The rest of the night was spent in the Camaro, of course, doing one of Billy's favorite pastimes. By the time the sun rose, Billy was sneaking a kiss to a giggling Y/n before dropping from her window in the cabin and running to his car, parked far enough that Hop or El wouldn't notice. He blew her one more kiss, which she pretended to catch, then he broke into a sprint.
Maybe, he thought, just maybe; there was still a chance.
His knuckles hit the door again, shifting on his feet nervously. It swung open to reveal Hopper, an unimpressed look bringing no surprise Billy's way. It was quite expected, honestly.
"What." His tone made it clear he wasn't up for fucking around.
"Mr. Hopper, if you just give me one chance to prove to you that-"
"No, no, no, no, no. Let me make it very clear to you that I want you to have nothing to do with my daughter whatsoever. No marriage, no friendship, I don't even approve of you guys fucking or whatever-"
"We're in a serious relationship, sir. It's nothing like you think it is."
This made Hop laugh. He continued to do so, holding his stomach, until he realized Billy was unamused. "Oh, you're serious?... My answer is still no, Hargrove. My answer will always be no. Go find someone else's daughter's heart to break. You're not hurting mine."
"It's not like-"
Before he could even get the words out, he was met with a door in his face. Turned down, again.
Can I have your daughter for the rest of my life? Say yes, say yes, 'cause I need to know. You say I'll never get your blessing "till the day I die, tough luck my friend, 'cause the answer's still no!"
Why you gotta be so rude? Don't you know I'm human too? Why you gotta be so rude? I'm gonna marry her anyway. Marry that girl, marry her anyway! Marry that girl, yeah, no matter what you say! Marry that girl, and we'll be a family! Why you gotta be so rude, rude?
Again, again, and again, Billy incessantly pleaded with Hopper. Different tactics were all met with the same answer; rejection.
He held up a sign outside the cabin, only for Hopper to close the curtain and chuckle as he sipped his coffee.
He asked at the door again, only for Hop to threaten to give him a black eye (which was met with "aren't you the sheriff? Isn't that illegal?").
He raced past the police station, Max leaning out the window with another sign, only for Hop to threaten them with holding cells.
He even went as far as to ask Max and El to help, but Hopper had none of that, and sent Max home with a rant full of nos.
However, if Jim Hopper thought any of it would get it into Billy's head that getting his blessing was just not happening- he was as wrong as Nancy when she claimed not to have feelings for Jonathan.
Billy had another plan in mind, and this one was impossible to say no to.
Can I have your daughter for the rest of my life? Say yes, say yes, 'cause I need to know. You say I'll never get your blessing "till the day I die, tough luck my friend- but no still means no!"
"Hopper." Billy stood before his desk, interrupting his nice date with a delicious doughnut, and earning a very annoyed glare. "I got Miss Byer's blessing. Aren't you two a thing?"
"You son of a-"
"I got Eleven's too."
"Hargrove, I'm gonna-"
"Before you cuss me out, I think you should know that I've got a stable job, an interview with a mechanic so I have a job when the pool closes for the winter, and I've got a house on the market I'm looking at. I'm devoted to your daughter and she's devoted to me. You may not like me, but I think you're a great dad, better than the one I was unfortunately stuck with. You raised a strong and amazing woman. She's incredible and I admit, she deserves better than me-"
"You don't have to say that twice." Hopper huffed, crossing his arms.
"I know she deserves so much better than me, I'm surprised she's even with me too. But she loves me, and I think you can see that. I love her too. I would never, in a million years, break her heart."
Jim stayed silent for a few minutes. The silence brought uneasiness to Billy, but that was intentional on Hopper's behalf. He finally piped up with a cough, clearing his throat, before his piercing eyes met Billy's blue orbs.
"I'll hold you to that, Hargrove."
Why you gotta be so rude? Don't you know I'm human too? Why you gotta be so rude? I'm gonna marry her anyway. Marry that girl, marry her anyway! Marry that girl, yeah, no matter what you say! Marry that girl, and we'll be a family! Why you gotta be so rude? Why you gotta be so rude?
Bonus:
(after the wedding)
"What was that about a no?" Billy quipped with his infamous smirk.
"You're lucky I'm sheriff, Hargrove."
Why you gotta be so rude?
#billy hargrove x reader#dacre montgomery#billy hargrove#dacre montgomery x reader#stranger things#x reader#all readers#imagine#reader insert#holy shit!#zodiyack#3000 followers#3000 follower special!#thank you guys!#i'm without words- that's how happy i am lmao#also sorry if this is shit writing#i'm still recovering#special#by recovering i mean getting back into the gist of things#stranger things x reader#stranger things imagine#x y/n#billy hargrove imagine#dacre montgomery imagine#x you#rude!#song fic#rude by magic
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all love {steve rogers}
summary: you had a lot to say to steve rogers after he left. finally, you get your chance.
warnings: angst, mentions of death
believe it or not, this version is actually the one with the happier ending than all the other ideas i had. so pls don’t hate me, bc this ain’t fluff :)
- jazz xx
Steve Rogers was a complicated man.
You knew that. You could see it in his eyes because you were just as complicated too. It was a blessing and a curse, really; it meant that you understood him just as much as you didn’t; sympathised with him just as much as you struggled. His emotions were clear as day and somehow, still twisted and unintelligible like a tangle of rainclouds in the middle of a stormy night. The history behind his blue eyes was long and confusing and it was unfair to expect you to decipher it when Steve could barely do it himself. He’d lived about a thousand lifetimes in the span of time that most people lived one - so you gave in on understanding, and chose to just love him instead.
It was easier that way, to just take it day by day and unpack his baggage as the super soldier saw fit. Sometimes it was hours and hours of talking; long and late nights, filled with tired eyes and the smell of caffeine. Stolen glances met with soft giggles and recounts of the war, the good times and the bad. Other times, it was more twisted. Deeper and darker. Strangled screams and cries lost to the night, large hands reaching for the gun under his pillow that posed the question of how fucking long has that been there, Steve?
In time, the good was worth the bad. You must had the patience of a fucking saint, because Steve finally stopped mourning for the past and began to look to the future. You hadn’t made solid plans -- that was foolish in your line of work. Between fighting aliens and robots, you were both blessed to have even made it this far. So, the day by day method worked in that sense too, and any big plans always became maybe. Maybe we’ll have kids one. Maybe we’ll move out of Brooklyn and to the suburbs. Maybe we’ll find a nice house with a picket fence and a garden big enough for Bucky to run around in.
What you had was beautiful, in the most complicated way. Because Steve Rogers was a perplexing man, but before that, he was kind and funny and sweet. He looked after you and you looked after him. Wrote you letters on long missions and left little notes for everyday that he was away. Sent you the dumbest good morning texts and the sweetest good night ones. For every emotional pitfall that you found yourselves in, Steve would turn up with a rope, even if he’d been the one to dig the hole in the first place.
It went more than just skin deep, twisting your souls together in some kind of emotional vortex that you wouldn’t have thought to be true had you not witnessed alien invasions and everything that followed. In fact, it was the everything that followed that you pushed you together even more - because it was the blip that had made you and Steve realised fucking important what you had was.
Those had been desperate moments. Painful, desperate moments. One minute, you’d been watching Wanda Maximoff cry out in pain for her lost love, and then she was gone. So was Bucky. And T’Challa. And Stephen Strange. In mere seconds; so quickly that your brain couldn’t even comprehend what was going on. It was as though somebody had turned your brain off for a few seconds - and when it rebooted, all you could think about was Steve.
You didn’t remember much from the seconds that followed, other than the burning in your lungs from how impossibly fast you had run, and how soar your throat was from screaming out his name. Then your bodies had collided with a thud, and you’d been met with a solid chest. Warm arms and big hands, that were completely and entirely there and not being dusted away. You’d never clung onto him so tightly, barely able to breath from how hard reality had just hit you. But he held onto you, and kept you standing - a metaphor which would stick to the next five years in the most bittersweet way.
The first few months were hard. Hard to stomach, hard to accept, hard to mourn. Everyone was floating around one another, still struggling to truly get over the fact that for once, the Avengers hadn’t won. You hadn’t gotten cocky, but after the Chitauri, and after Ultron, you had become hopeful. Nobody could blame you. Hope was all you’d had, really.
You found a routine. Steve found a reason to live in you, and you’d found an inkling of ambition in him. After a few months in the Compound, you’d gone back to your apartment in Manhattan. You’d never been more grateful to have it -- because when the entire world had changed around you, at least one thing was still the same. You could shut the door and lock it behind you, just existing as you always had in those four walls. The rest of the world didn’t matter, because it just you, and it was Steve, and that was the world. It was your world, and it was his.
After everything becoming so unpredictable, the stability that his presence brought was everything you needed. It cemented your need for one another - your love for another.
But unpredictably has a funny way of working, doesn’t it?
Never in a million years would you have imagined that the thing brought you closer would have been the thing to tear you apart. That restoring the world back to the state you’d longed for would bring an end to the only thing you thought was certain. You’d calculated every outcome of reversing the blip, thought about every way that it was everything you’d ever wanted. Finally, everything you’d lost would come back, and you and Steve could live as you always wanted. In the world you wanted.
But he wasn’t there.
One possibility you hadn’t considered was that Steve would have access to the time stone. You were both getting back to the world’s your mourned for, but they weren’t the same. You’d only been mourning the last five years, whilst Steve had been mourning the last seven decades. Somewhere along the long, you’d convinced yourself that the little bubble you’d built for yourselves was enough to cushion that. That your relationship, and your love, was enough compensation for the fact he’d lost everything.
Because Steve was good with words, but not quite enough to express to you how truly out of time he’d been. You saw the way his eyes glazed over when he spoke of the forties, but you couldn’t feel the pain in his chest when he heard an old record. You couldn’t fathom the suffocation he felt every time he saw pictures of his lost friends, or the weight on his chest that losing Peggy Carter had given him. It had alleviated slightly when he met you, but truthfully speaking, Steve Rogers hadn’t taken a deep breath since the final moments before his plane hit the ice in 1945.
The pain you felt when you realised that he’d well and truly left you for his old life was minute compared to what he’d been feeling since he woke up all those years ago. It didn’t matter, because pain was pain regardless. His relief didn’t negate your suffering. And, if you’d ever been wondering what you would have felt if you had lost Steve in the blip, you needn’t had looked any further. This was worst than him dying. This was worst than him slipping away with millions of others, because he’d chosen to do it. He’d thought about you, and everything you’d tried to give him, and he’d decided it wasn’t enough.
You didn’t get it at first. Couldn’t sympathise with his situation - but let’s face it. Who the fuck could? It wasn’t like there was a WikiHow article on how to get over the love of your life time travelling back to the 1940s and leaving you in ruins. For the first time since you’d met Steve all those years ago, you were forced to process all your emotional trauma on your own. To stand on your own two feet without his broad arms supporting you in the way they had on the battlefield in Wakanda.
It took time. You processed it with time. Drank a lot, cried a lot, screamed a lot. Found solace in your friendships with Bucky and Sam; even if they’d been a little much at first, forcing you to share the payload of your pain with them had helped. At times, it was like going to group therapy with Spongebob and Patrick, but you held them close to your heart. You learnt to find joy and appreciation in other things, and to tune out Steve, and the mention of his name.
That was until March 2021, almost two years to the day that he had left you standing on the lakeside in the Compound. You’d been driving home from work and his name had been mentioned on the radio - Captain America, former war hero and super soldier, has died aged 103.
It didn’t sting too much. You’d mourned Steve Rogers a long time ago - at least the version of him that you knew. It made your chest hurt a little that he was truly and completely gone, and that you would never have a chance to talk to him. You’d toyed with the idea of going to visit him in his old age. Part of you wanted to know if he remembered you, even if for him, everything you’d had together had been decades ago. Even though you’d existed together in the future, your life together was cemented entirely in the past the minute you’d went back. Decades had passed before you existed at the same time again, and you wondered if time had been enough for him to forget. Two years for you had been seventy for him. It was thought that had made you shy away from ever talking to him, because you didn’t want to know. You were scared of the answer.
Maybe that was why you were only seeing him now; on a rainy day, when the man you’d once loved was six feet under and surrounded by a ridiculous headstone you knew he would hate. The air around you was cool, sky tinged grey and a few droplets splashing against the grey stone, making it turn a slightly darker shade. There were no tears; just a deep sigh, and an awkward shuffle as you wriggled your toes in your boots and thought about what the fuck you wanted to say.
‘Hey, Cap.’ You murmured. ‘Can I call you that? I used to call you babe. No, I don’t know why I said that. That’s fucking weird. Like this whole situation, because somehow, even though I’ve dealt with aliens and gods, saying goodbye to you is one I was never truly prepared for.’
Your eyes fell to the floor, and you continued. ‘You suck, Steve Rogers. You really fucking suck. You know that, right? That it’s a dick move to go back to your old life without even leaving a note? Or a text? Heck, I would have been happy if you spelt it out on the fridge in magnets.’
‘It’s okay, though.’ You smiled. ‘I’m not mad anymore. Okay, maybe I am a little, but not as I used to be. I understand why you did it, but I also get that I’ll never understand at all. I’ll never get how existing in a time that wasn’t yours felt, or how out of place you must have been in a world seventy years ahead of what you knew.’
‘And I’m sorry, I guess. Sorry that I didn’t try harder, but also sorry that whatever I tried to give you wasn’t enough to make up for what you’d lost.’ You sniffed. ‘This is where you’d tell me to shut up and stop being so hard on myself. So I will, because we’re both at peace now and that’s the most important thing.’
There were a few tears then; not for the man beneath you, but for the man that had left you. When all the anger subsided, you realised that above all, you just missed him. You missed the late night conversations when you couldn’t sleep, and you missed how warm he felt beside you when you did finally drift off. You missed the way he laughed at your driving skills and the way he would eat your side salad because you hated it. You longed to his hear his singing in the shower in the morning, and to squeal at him for pressing his cold feet to your back to wake you up.
‘Above all, Steve Rogers, I’m just grateful I had you, even for a few years.’ You took a deep breath. ‘The pain I felt when you left was unbearable, but it wasn’t permanent. The memories you gave me, and the love I felt for you? That’s gonna stay with me forever.’
You wiped away a few tears, smiling to yourself when the clouds above you cleared slightly. The grey ones that had been lingering all morning had shifted slightly, allowing for the sunlight to peak through and cast a glow over your surroundings. Tiny, dewy raindrops lingered on the grass, enveloping the world around you in the smell of petrichor and relief. You’d never believed in fate, or the afterlife, or messages from the underworld, but that? You hadn’t felt a rush like that the last time you woke up beside him.
‘So, thanks I guess.’ You glanced up at the sky, blinking under the bright sun. ‘And rest easy, Cap.’
#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x you#steve rogers imagine#steve rogers angst#captain america x reader#captain america x you#captain america imagine#avengers x reader#avengers x you#avengers imagine#avengers angst#avengers fan fiction#marvel x you#marvel imagine#marvel imagines#marvel fan fiction
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—lost stars, part 2 (m.)
⟶ pairing: jeon jungkook/reader
⟶ genre: smut, angst, bits of fluff, (troubled) idol au, childhood friends to lovers
⟶ word count: 20k
⟶ summary: in dead hours of the night he stumbles upon the bars, reaching, searching, trying to feel something, for once forget about consequences and taste the bittersweet freedom. between sips of addiction and faint touches of nameless lovers he finds you again: his own long-lost star on a blackboard sky.
⟶ warnings: explicit sexual content, soft dom!jk but also bit possessive!jk, sub!reader, oral (f receiving), praise kink, jk calling oc his pretty girl, unprotected sex (stay safe kiddos!), creampie, implicit car sex, mentions of infidelity, smoking, both oc and jk are emotional mess sometimes.
✔ read part one here!
a/n: i’m sorry i keep you waiting for so long but it’s finally here. as i promised, by the end of october. this story has a really special place in my heart, i’ve had it in my drafts for over a year now. i hope you’ll enjoy it!
Twenty-two. No, twenty-three. Or maybe it was actually twenty-two? Jungkook starts counting again.
Various, different certificates are aligned on the wall in front of him, every single one dedicated to the same man, sitting across the table with crossed arms and stern expression. It’s rather obvious his ego reaches far beyond the printed sheets of paper with his name written in swirly fonts. They are here just to make an impression, to fool people into believing that the pastel blue shirt he’s wearing and expensive watch on his wrist are the outcome of his hard work.
He opens his mouth to say something, but it doesn’t reach Jungkook’s ears. He starts counting again; this time the number of letters on the first certificate.
“What do you suggest we should do then?”
The man whose achievements in marketing and public relations Jungkook currently attentively analyzes, is Lee Ilsug, or at least that’s what those diplomas indicate. To be honest, Jungkook couldn’t care less about his name or the list of accomplishments that made him be employed here.
He’s new in the company, that’s certain. Jungkook didn’t have to deal with him before but Yoongi had the unpleasantness though, when he needed to deny the rumours going all around the Twitter about his slightly too close friendship with a female singer he had collaborated with.
Quoting Yoongi, Ilsung was pain in the ass.
“The photo is blurry. It’s debatable whether it’s Jungkook-ssi or not.” Another voice, this time female, cuts in. Jungkook remembers her face fleetingly from some PR meeting he had attended before. It looks like she’s now Ilsung’s assistant. “I checked SNS. Fans are on Jungkook’s side, they don’t believe what that girl had written, which is a good situation for us to interfere and release a statement.”
“What do you think, Jungkook?”
It’s Sejin. He was the one who contacted Jungkook about the ruckus in the company that has been going on since morning. The case is simple: on the day he did his walk of shame out of your apartment, he stopped to light up a cigarette that happened to be another one of his cardinal mistakes he’s made in span of 24 hours. What started with getting the temptation and alcohol got better of him and sleeping with you, ended with someone taking a picture of him while smoking.
It’s truly a miracle the photo’s quality is moderately vague. His mom always tells him he was born under the lucky star but for Jungkook it’s more like fate was playing hide and seek with him. This time, he managed to blend into the shadows in time.
Ilsung clicks his tongue. It’s not a secret he hates his job yet cherishes the money he earns. He pushes his thick-rimmed glasses up his nose and leans over the table. He’s close enough for Jungkook to notice the fresh cut from shaving on his cheek and a small, golden cross hanging on his neck.
He raises his brow, eyes trained on Jungkook. Cold, emotionless. Clearly, his ambitions don’t end on dealing with some idol’s reckless shenanigans. “Well? What’s on your mind, Jungkook-ssi? We are ready to release the statement denying rumours about the incident in an hour.”
Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek. “But that will be a lie then. I did smoke, it’s me on that picture.”
Next to him, he hears Sejin clearing his throat uncomfortably. “Jungkook, I know it’s unfair but we can’t let it affect yours or boys’ reputations right now. We are a month before the comeback.” he says and no matter how much he tries to make it sound neutral, pulling the ‘what about the rest of the members?’ card is usually the last straw to bend Jungkook.
Jungkook releases a long sigh at that. He feels unworthy. He let down his brothers again, made them worry about him countless times before and that’s what he offeres in return: disappointment. He cannot risk his bandmates’ good name because of his incautious behavior. They sacrificed too much to be where they are now to lose it over a silly scandal.
“Do what’s best for the team.” he decides after a while.
Once he’s out of the office, his thoughts drift instinctively to you. Do you already know about the mess he created? Do you even search through social media, looking for the updates about him? No, you wouldn’t go there, he tells himself. He’s almost sure. He hopes those revelations won’t ever reach you.
Sejin breaks his chain of thoughts, stepping into the elevator after him. “What were you even doing in that part of the city so early?” he asks, staring at Jungkook’s reflection in the mirror.
“Does it really matter?”
Sejin’s features soften a little. He’s been with them practically since the beginning. Seen their best and worst, always by their side even when the whole world seemed to be against them. Piggybacking Jungkook out of the practice room because he complained about his feet being sore, joking behind the stage about trivial things when no cameras where around. They trusted him. And he’s never stopped believing in them.
“I told you that million times before. You are allowed to lead your life the way you want, Jungkook. I know how you feel, but as a public figure you have to be extremely careful, first and foremost. People don’t forget, nothing ever disappears from the Internet,” he says, or rather repeats the same mantra he’s been telling them since they broke into the mainstream and started being overly recognizable. “I am here to protect you but I won’t be able to do that if you don’t take care of yourself first.”
He places a strong hold on Jungkook’s shoulder and squeezes reassuringly. Jungkook releases a sigh and the door slides open behind them. “Thank you, hyung.”
“Always, Jungkook-ah. I’m feeling like a father of rebel teenager now.” Sejin laughs lightly to clear the heavy atmosphere, making Jungkook snort.
“Hey, I’m twenty-two!”
Sejin ruffles Jungkook’s hair, ignoring younger’s grumbling protests. The walk into the spacious parking lot of the company and Jungkook suddenly stops in his tracks.
“Does Bang already know about this?“ he asks matter-of-factly, although he’s sure what the answer will be. The confirmation he needs comes with a nod from Sejin. “Is he pissed?” he adds then.
Sejin raises his brows, looking down at him. “His golden boy let him down, what do you think? He might not be mad but he’s sure as hell disappointed.” He gestures to his car and Jungkook follows him without a word, imagining his boss’ sour expression next time he sees him. In Bang’s self-made ranking he’s sitting at last place right now probably.
“Want to grab a proper breakfast with me? I’ve been called into the company while I was in bed. I didn’t even have time to finish my coffee.” Sejin offers, pulling Jungkook out of his thoughts.
“Okay.” Jungkook says, hopping in Sejin’s car. “You’re buying?” he asks, mustering a snickering smile even though he’s definitely not in the mood for joking.
Sejin rolls his eyes, fastening his seatbelt. “Don’t you think you own it to me for saving your ass once again?”
“But I’m your rebel teenager kid, remember?” Jungkook pouts. When he sees Sejin hesitating, he opts for another strategy. The one that never fails. “Rock-paper-scissors?”
“Deal.”
Tonight, Jungkook pulls up in front of the club you’re working in with his car. It’s Friday night and he recalls you saying you work here every two weeks. He counted the days three times. There’s no way he made a mistake. He’s sober. And he has no intentions of getting drunk.
You’re surprised when you see him. You haven’t spoken a word for a whole week since he walked out of your apartment. He seems happier when he approaches you, flashing a bunny-toothed smile like nothing ever happened. Maybe he’s good at pretending. That’s exactly what you told him to do - act like the night he stripped you bare and fucked you silly was merely a mirage.
In a way, you’re relieved he makes everything seem ordinary, even though it’s anything but normal.
He waits for you to finish your shift. Tells you he drove here with his car and your eyes involuntarily widen. When you’re standing in front of his black Mercedes Benz, you can’t help but gawk.
“I don’t even want to know how much money this cost.” You take in the all-polished, black glory of his car, muttering “Holy shit” under your breath.
Jungkook chuckles to himself, gesturing for you to get in. You do it without a word, making yourself comfortable on the leather seat. If he manages not to make things awkward, you can do it to, acting as though he isn’t a well-known persona in your country with an addiction for unhealthy lifestyle.
He starts the engine and drives in the direction of your neighborhood, humming to himself the tune playing in radio. It’s awfully domestic, the way he navigates through the streets like he knows them like the back of his hand although you’re aware he’s glancing at his phone once in a while to check the directions. You catch yourself watching him from the corner of your eye with curiosity, biting your lip to suppress the urge to ask him million questions at a minute. Instead, you let him do whatever he has in mind. You can’t ruin this, you remind yourself.
Later that night, you’re sitting in his car in the darkness, parked on the rundown parking lot where no one’s standing expect for you. The only source of light is coming from the single street lamp nearby, illuminating delicately Jungkook’s features in dim, yellowish lighting.
He doesn’t say much. He fumbles with the hem of his jacket almost absentmindedly and you know him well enough to sense there’s something plugging his thoughts. You call his name and he turns his head to the side. It’s too dark for you to spot the tiredness on his beautiful face, too dark to read from his eyes and find all the needed answers in them.
“Is everything alright?” you ask and it sounds awfully loud in a small space of his car. Despite the silent promise you made to yourself about keeping things between you civil, you can’t help but interfere.
Jungkook then whirls on his seat so he can face you fully, flashing you a smile meant to throw all your former worries away. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just wanted to sit with you for a while like that, if you don’t mind.”
If anything, it doesn’t cure your concerns but you shove it to the back of your head for now. Nodding at his words, you fall into the distressing silence. The street lamp nearby goes out and if it wasn’t for the digital dashboard in Jungkook’s car, you would have been surrounded by darkness completely.
Jungkook chuckles under his breath and you follow suit. The sudden change in the atmosphere should be taken as a sign to abandon this damned parking lot and go somewhere else, but he looks like he has other plans in mind. Hearing the soft whisper of your name, you start feeling like it all was meant to happen. Him appearing in front of the club, the lights going out and enabling you to read the true emotions from your faces – it’s all like fate is again playing tricks with you.
You don’t know who moves first, crossing the invisible oceans between you and reaching homeland, but the next thing you feel is his lips on yours.
He tastes like the non-alcoholic beverage he drunk earlier, mixed with faint bitterness of his beloved cigarettes and something akin to mint, yet you’re drowning in it, in him, in the warmth of his breath on your wet lips.
You feel the world spiraling in front of your eyes, despite your soberity. You’re moving automatically; leaning into his touch and accepting the kiss with raw passion, welcoming his tongue in your mouth willingly. It should be alarming how good it feels to have him like this, in your arms, teeth scrapping your neck until you’re writhing in your seat. Breathless, he takes the hint, maneuvering your body until you’re straddling his lap.
It feels dangerously familiar. You know what’s going to happen next, when he unzips your jacket and places his hands underneath your sweater, relishing in the way you shiver at the coldness of his touch. When he sinks his teeth in your neck and withdraws seconds before leaving a blossoming mark. Yet you make no vow to stop him.
From this exact moment, it’s just a blur of hushed whispers, broken moans and quick caresses that leave you yearning for more. Jungkook acts like he knows your body inside and out, thrusting his fingers knuckle-deep into your heat until you’re keening and begging him for more. And he gives it to you with earnest, coaxing you into an orgasm with one last, final flick of his thumb on your sensitive bud.
Jungkook groans when you palm his bulge through the material of his pants, but he’s too desperate to feel your wetness around him to let you tease him any longer. When you sink down onto him, all of your rational thoughts fly away with the breathy moan you let out in unison with his choked gasp.
It’s fast and ragged, chasing the high that it’s both forbidden yet so craved. And it hurts, when tears well in your eyes, when you’re at the brick of pleasure and you know there’s no way in the world you’re going to experience a desire so raw and overwhelming with anyone, ever again. It hurts when Jungkook picks up the pace and fucks into you with ferocity and anger, because the world is unfair and he’s a slave in the system in which freedom means fucking you dirty in his car when it’s dark out.
And he hates it, hates it so much when you unveil in front of him, whimpering his name hoarsely and tightening around his cock deliciously. He swallows every sound you make with his mouth, clenching his teeth because the pleasure is right there, but he needs an extra push to throw himself over the edge. It’s his name on your lips and the whimper of “Inside, please” that finally makes him snap.
Then, there’s only guilt and laboured breaths. In his self-made list of mistakes, you’re aiming for the top.
Grocery shopping has never been your favourite thing to do.
You would never quite enjoy doing it, not due to the constant anxiety of forgetting about buying something even if you make a list of products beforehand, not when you don’t have enough money to buy a little extra than needed (thanks to the dear capitalistic world we live in).
Right now, you’re standing in the middle of an aisle with cereal, trying to look as much casual as possible so people passing by wouldn’t suspect you to be a wanna-be thief. The cause of your distress sits at the very top shelf and there’s no way in hell you’ll manage to snatch that Reese’s Puffs without knocking everything over.
Defeated, you raise your hand to take your second option (good, old Corn Flakes), but a familiar voice coming from the right stops you in tracks.
“Need some help?”
Twirling on your feet, you’re now standing face to face with Kihyun – Minho’s friend from work. Smiling sheepishly, you nod. “I do, actually. Can you pass me these ones, please?”
You feel stupid asking that but fortunately, Kihyun doesn’t seem to mind your awkwardness. You talked to him briefly a few times before thanks to Minho, who took his friendship with him as far as to go on a double date together.
“So, how are you?” Kihyun asks, placing the cereal box in your cart.
“I’m good, thanks. I assume you’ve been also doing well,” He raises his eyebrows at that and you clarify, “Minho told me you got promoted lately. Congrats, chief Yoo.”
“Ah, yeah, thank you,” There’s a tiny bit of pink covering the apples of his cheeks when he waves his hand dismissively at your comment. “But it’s not that big of a deal.”
“I’m sure working in a homicide department is a big deal,” you say. “And I heard it requires some extra shooting training as well.” you add, alluding to what Minho has told you the day you read the message on his phone from someone named Soyeon.
To your surprise, Kihyun furrows his brows in a manner that could only mean he’s confused. “I don’t know what you mean by that.”
Hiding your astonishment with a light laugh, you explain, “Don’t you go to the shooting range with Minho after work? He told me so a while ago.”
Something akin to realization crosses Kihyun’s face. He shakes his head. “Yeah, we went there together once or twice but recently he’s training there our new recruit, Soyeon.”
His words punch you right in the guts. Minho lied to you. He wouldn’t come up with that shitty excuse if he didn’t have something dirtier to hide, right? Maybe you’re exaggerating, but he certainly hasn’t been truly honest with you for a while now. It must be a reason behind his strange behavior.
“Are you okay?”
For a moment you’ve forgotten you’re in the middle of the grocery store with your boyfriend’s friend. Shaking yourself off your unpleasant thoughts, you send Kihyun an apologetic smile.
“I’m sorry. I just remembered I need to go to the pharmacist’s and they’re closing soon so I gotta hurry now.” you lie. He doesn’t look like he entirely bought your story but nevertheless, he bids you goodbye.
You leave the store with half-empty shopping bag, raging headache and a torn heart.
They say silence can speak more than any exchanged words.
It hovers in the air, heavy and overwhelming, a tension primed to snap at any moment yet it has never happened before. There’s always quiet, no hushed sentences, half-lies or stuttered confessions leaving quivering lips.
Sometimes you wonder when will you have enough. When will you be able to resist, to say you’re hurting so bad it aches right in your heart, like there are tons of bricks lying on your chest, suppressing your breathing. And maybe this is the night.
A few unread messages on your phone, next one popping up and the screen lights up.
[1:23pm] jungkook:
i need you
It pains, a dull ache and suddenly there isn’t enough air in the room.
[1:24pm] jungkook:
please
He never begs. It doesn’t suit him. There is too much pride and power inside him to crawl in front of you, to fall to his knees and plead. Yet, you falter, shaking fingertips typing a quick response. When brain screams fuck you, you don’t deserve me, a sight of him makes all the rational thoughts go to hell.
He stands in your door, slender body leaning against the frame. You haven’t seen him for a while, a week or maybe two. His skin is pale, sheer and delicate you worry it might break if you trail your fingers over it. There are bangs under his bloodshot eyes and you know he had trouble sleeping again. It hurts seeing him like this, beautiful and broken but you’ve always loved picking up the damaged pieces.
He smiles, a lopsided smirk you know oh so well, a dark amusement because here you are, pliant under his gaze, vulnerable under his every command.
“Hello, doll.”
It’s the ‘doll’ that makes you grimace. Nickname he uses only when you’re stripped bare for his liking, bend to his will. It means he’s been drinking. Probably the expensive whiskey you hate the taste of so much when it lingers bitterly on your tongue after each swipe of his mouth against yours. “Will you let me in?” he then asks although he already knows the answer.
It’s cruel of him how he uses your weakness. You hate seeing him like this, hate when he’s thrown apart and you’re the only one who knows how to fix him. That’s why you move away from the door in a silent invitation, biting your lip when you see his slouching posture and unsteady walk.
It hurts when you help him sit on your bed and he smiles at you lazily, in all his beautiful yet broken glory. You almost don’t recognize him. It’s not your Jungkook. Your Jungkook would never drown his misery in alcohol, he would never sit in your room barely conscious, smelling of cheap bars and cigarettes.
But you accept your fate the way it is.
“I need to sober you up a little. I’ll go get you a glass of water, okay?” He hums in response, although you’re worried it might have not reach his ears at all.
Jungkook looks up when your back, accepting the water and drinking it with eagerness. “You’re too good to me, you know that right?” he slurs a little once he’s done. “I don’t deserve you.” he adds after a moment, cupping your cheek with his unoccupied palm.
You squeeze your eyes shut because you fear you might break down in front of him if you look him in the eyes. He strokes your skin, murming “I’m so sorry” all over again.
You stay like that for a few beats of silence, breathing in each other’s presences until you hear Jungkook’s phone buzzing in the pocket of his jacket. Taking it out, you see ‘Jimin-hyung’ written on the screen. “Your friends are worried about you.” you murmur, nudging his side.
“Tell them to go to hell.” You hear him muttering under his breath. Sighing, you decide to exit the room and answer the call.
“Jungkook? Where the fuck are you?!” Jimin’s angered, thick with Busan dialect voice rings in your ears, making you flinch. “You should’ve at least answer my text once so I would know you’re okay!”
Mustering the courage, you take a deep breath and say, “Hi, it’s Y/N speaking. Jungkook’s friend.”
There’s a pause on the other side, until your hear Jimin clearing his throat. “Oh, hi. Is Jungkook maybe with you?” he asks and you smile to yourself involuntarily noticing how his voice has changed once he realised he’s not speaking to his friend.
“He is. Drunk, but in one piece.” you reply, sparing a glance at aforementioned Jungkook who’s now slumped down on your bed, probably fast asleep.
Jimin sighs with relief. “That’s good then. You know, we got into a little fight today and he suddenly disappeared without a trace, and we are right before the comeback so–”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain anything to me,” you interrupt his rushed rambling. “I’ll take care of him.”
“Thank you, Y/N-ssi. It means a lot.”
‘’I’ve been taking care of his ass practically since we were kids, so it’s not a big deal for me,” you chuckle lightly, even though you’re definetely not in the mood for jokes. “Well, maybe not in that way but still.”
“I know. He told me about you.”
Your eyes widen. “He did?” you ask, failing to hide the surprised tone of your voice.
“Yeah, he did. When he first told us he met his childhood friend accidentally in the club he got drunk in, we didn’t believe him at first. But then he slowly started opening up more about you and even showed me some picture of you and him when you were kids.” Jimin says. “You know, Jungkook hasn’t been himself for quite a while. He kept pushing us away but ever since he met you, he’s started smiling again. Please, promise me you’ll never hurt him.”
You release a shaky breath. “I promise.”
It’s easy to promise such thing. Because you’re for sure going to end up being hurt first.
It’s your alarm that wakes you up the next morning.
The sight of Jungkook is long gone, the only proof he’s been here in your bed last night is an empty glass on your bedside table and a small note written on the napkin.
Thank you for everything. I really don’t deserve you.
Jungkook.
Sheets have gone already cold underneath your fingertips where he laid beside you just hours ago. You didn’t get much sleep the night, watching his beautiful, pale features illuminated by the moonlight slipping through your window. He looked so peaceful with his chapped lips slightly parted and in that moment, you couldn’t think of any reason to hate him and what he’s doing to you.
Later, when you’re finally out of uni, you come home and take a quick shower. It’s Wednesday and Wednesdays are reserved for your small dates with Minho. The guilt you’re feeling while getting dressed and fixing your makeup is eating you from the inside. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you almost don’t recognize the shallow of a girl you’re seeing.
You are not a bad person, you keep reminding yourself, then why did you sleep with him that night? Let him crawl into your bed again and again after?
Minho waits for you outside in his car. He’s taking you to a new Thai restaurant and you manage to hide the frown on your face, because your dear boyfriend forgot you don’t like this type of food.
“You look pretty tonight, babe,” he says once you’re inside, waiting for your orders. You smile at him briefly. “It’s really been a while since we went out together, hasn’t it?”
At that, you nod curtly. It’s true, you haven’t seen each other last week at all. Minho ditched your usual Wednesday date in favor of staying at work for something important. It happened second or third time this month. You feel like you don’t have right to be mad at him. If anything, that’s what you deserve for lying to him behind his back.
The rest of the evening goes smoothly. Your food arrives, you act like you don’t feel nauseous chewing on your pad thai and trying to break out the taste with red wine. Minho babbles about the new Netflix series he’s started watching and you’re pretending to be intrested. Wednesday date at its finest.
Then, when you’re about to pour yourself another glass of wine, Minho stops you with his hand on yours. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something,” You fight an urge to roll your eyes. He wants to discuss serious matters? What a change. “We’ve been together for eight months. My parents keep asking about you.”
“Oh,” you blurt out. To hide your anxiety, you force out a breathy laugh. “So, what about them?” you ask, however you already know what the answer is going to be.
“I thought we could visit them soon in Daegu over some weekend when you don’t have work,” he proposes, squeezing your hand as if to calm your nerves. It’s not doing much to put you at ease. “My mom has already started making plans what food she should make. They’re really excited to meet you.”
You feign a smile. It should be a natural progression for couples to take things at a time, step by step but you can’t help but feel uneasy. Minho wants his parents to meet you, the girl who lets a certain raven-haired boy play with her heart and mess with her head. In a sick game where both parties are out of reach, you’re terribly losing.
“I’d love to meet your parents.” you say finally, almost breathless.
“You don’t look very excited.” Minho comments with a smirk and you know he’s joking but the lump in your throat only grows.
You smile meekly. “I’m just nervous, that’s all. What if they won’t like me?”
“I’m sure they’re gonna love you. You don’t have anything to worry about.” he dismisses your concerns, reaching for the wine bottle to pour himself a glass. “I’ve got one more thing to tell you. I know it’s a lot for one evening but I’ve been meaning to talk to you about it for weeks now so since we have this opportunity now, I’m gonna use it.”
Color drains from your face. What else is there to converse about all of a sudden? Biting the inside of your cheek, you give him a sign to continue.
“I’ll go straight to the point. I want you to move in with me,” The bomb explodes and you nearly drop your wine glass to the floor. “I know it might be a lot for your but I really, really want to see you every day in my bed. My apartment is big enough for both of us but once I get the promotion my boss talked to me about last week, we can look for something fancier.”
You stare at him blankly. First his parents, now this? Minho from the beginning of your relationship was the one who liked to take things slowly. He didn’t kiss you until your third date, he waited unnecessary amount of time to have sex even though you told him over and over again you were more than ready to do it with him.
The sudden rush feels weird. As if sensing your discomfort, Minho clears his throat and asks, “Don’t you want to move in with me?”
You notice the subtle change in his voice, the way he’s not as enthusiastic as he was a minute ago but you shove it to the back of your head. “I’m surprised,” you respond neutraly. “And of course I don’t mind living with you. I just thought you wanted to take things slow.”
Minho clicks his tongue. “This has nothing to do with that. I’m not asking you to marry me, Y/N,” he chuckles but you don’t mirror the sentiment. “I think it would be more comfortable for you to live with me than your current cubby-hole.”
He’s already irritated by your reaction and you know it’s better not to poke the bear but those three glasses of wine down your throat give you enough courage to disagree. “Your place is further from my university and work. Not to mention I have a five minutes long walk to the underground now and it would take longer for me to get there in your area.” you point out.
“You can get a driving license then finally.”
You frown. “What do you mean ‘finally’? You know damn well I can’t afford it now with the job I have and student loan. We talked about it before.”
Minho is aware that with your current financial situation you’re barely making ends meet and you can’t let yourself have another, bigger expenses. But you’re fine on your own, you don’t mind living where you do because that’s the result of your independence. You showed your parents you are able to study and work without their extra help. You’re proud of yourself for that.
“Now you’re literally making excuses. Just say you don’t want to move in.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to,” you try to reason. “I’m not ready for such a big step yet. I need more time to think about it.”
Minho snorts, rolling his eyes. “What else is there to think about? Either you say yes or no!” His raised tone catches attention from the family sitting nearby and they send curious glances in your direction.
“Stop being so loud, please. We are in a restaurant for God’s sake.” you whisper-shout.
“Do I look like I give a fuck?” he snorts, obnoxious and annoyingly snarky.
You stay quiet for a moment, debating whether you should give up entirely and hang a white flag or wait for the atmosphere to clear on its own. But you’re so, so tired. Tired of being lied to. Tired of always having to choose your words carefully and bending to his will.
“You know, I met Kihyun the other day at grocery store,” Minho doesn’t seem much interested in your inquiry, still deeply frustrated with your tantrum. He simply hums, unfazed. “I congratulated him on his promotion. He for sure needs to visist shooting range more now, doesn’t he?”
Minho arches his brow. “Yeah, I told you he goes there with me and that new recruit.”
It’s ironic, how easily he can lie to you straight in the eye. But you’re strong enough now to fight back. “That’s interesting actually, because Kihyun said something totally different.” you say languidly, watching your boyfriend narrowing his eyes.
“And what is that?”
“He said you’re going there only with your new recruit, Soyeon. The one sending you messages on your private phone.”
Minho gapes at you for a few short seconds and then, bursts into laughter. “What are you trying to insinuate here, honey?” he asks.
The petname sounds mocking this time. Ignoring his lighthearted approach to the situation, you dodge a bullet. “I’m not insinuating anything yet. I just pointed out that you lied to me.”
“Lied? That’s bullishit. I would never lie to you.”
“But you did, Minho. The day I asked you who Soyeon was after reading the message on your phone. You said you’re visiting shooting range with her and Kihyun after work sometimes. Turns out it’s just you and her after all. Isn’t that a lie?” you press.
Minho doesn’t like being backed into the corner. When you confronted him first, he thought he had everything under control. Now, he’s losing it and he isn’t used to being that helpless.
“So what? Maybe I told you that so you wouldn’t freak out and think I’m cheating on you. Because that’s all it is about, right? You think I’m fucking someone behind your back.” he snaps, making you wince.
“I didn’t say that.” you counter but there’s no use for that. You stepped into the lion’s den.
He aprubtly stands up from his chair and the cutlery on your table clutters. “You know what? I’m done. I’m not in the mood for your bullshit anymore.” He withdraws his wallet from the pocket of his jacket and throws a few bills onto the table.
A bitter chuckle escapes your lips. “Your’e leaving? Just like that?”
“Yeah. Are you going with me or not?”
You shrug your shoulders. “I guess someone has to finish this bottle. It would be a shame to waste such expensive wine.” you say, mustering a sarcastic smile.
Minho doesn’t utter anything more to you. He nods and exits the restaurant, leaving you sitting by the table alone. Despite the stares, hushed whispers and an urge to run away and hide from the audience, you stay a little longer and drink up that damned bottle of wine until there’s no droplets left inside.
Once you’re outside, you inhale greedily the fresh air. Your head spins a little and you’re debating whether to take an Uber home or just walk thirty minutes on your own to sober up a little. You choose the latter.
You don’t know what makes you dial his number. You’ve never done that before. He was the one calling you in the middle of the name and begging without words to tend his wounds. Tables have turned, and here you are.
You call once, twice. After the fifth attempt you give up, showing your phone into the pocket of your coat. As the first tear rolls down your cheek, you realise he would never be there to pick up your pieces.
Three missed calls from: Jungkook
[11:11pm] jungkook:
I’m so sorry y/n. I couldn’t pick up the phone cause we had late practice
Please call me back. I’m worried
Two missed calls from: Jungkook
[11:36pm] jungkook:
At least text me if you’re okay
Please
[11:39pm] me:
I’m fine
[11:39pm] jungkook:
Thank God
You sure you don’t wanna talk?
[11:41pm] me:
Maybe next time
[11:41pm] jungkook:
Okay
Night, miss grumpy
You’re sitting in your favourite cafeteria, typing furiously on your laptop the last paragraph in your assignment. Your philosophy proffesor has been a bitch lately, telling you to write essays about the most uninteresting stuff she could possibly think of. And here you are, writing about Hegel’s triads, reminding yourself the semester soon will be over and so will be your mandatory philosophy classes.
Taking a moment to sip on a caramel macchiato you ordered, you notice a message popping up on your lockscreen.
[10:45am] jungkook:
Do you have time now?
I need to tell you sth
It’s been two days since your date with Minho. You’re still mentally flogging yourself for calling Jungkook that night repulsively because of your tipsiness. In that exact moment, he was the only person on your mind you could talk to. Once the fresh air cooled down your emotions, you realised how stupid your idea was.
With slight resistance (and raced heartbeat), you type a response.
[10:46am] me:
I guess
[10:46am] jungkook:
Great. I’m gonna call you now
Eyes widening, you stare at your phone. What is so important that he cannot just text you instead? Not even a minute later, you hear buzzing. Exhaling shakily, you answer it.
“Hi, Miss Grumpy,” Jungkook says and you could tell by the tone of his voice he’s in a good mood. He sounds like the old Jungkook you know well. It’s a pleasant surprise. “What’s up?”
“You called me to ask how am I doing?”
Jungkook chuckles and something inside you flutters hearing that. “And what if I did?”
Rolling your eyes, you respond, “Let’s just say it’s unusual of you. Shouldn’t you be at some dance practice right now?” you ask.
“We just ended a company meeting. And this is exactly the reason why I’m calling you.”
“Should I be scared?”
”Not at all. I’m gonna move straight to the point,” he says and your pulse involuntarily quickens. “Are you free next weekend?”
You bite your lip. There’s a part of you that wants so bad to counter with “What? Do you need a booty call?” but you don’t let your facade break that easily. Instead, you tell the truth. “Yeah, I am.”
“Would you like to go with me to Busan then?”
You nearly spill the coffee onto your laptop. “Oh.” You can’t quite hide the surprise in your voice. You would never expect him to propose you such thing, yet here you are.
It’s been a while since you were home. Not like you don’t want to see your parents, it’s actually the opposite. The reason you haven’t been in Busan for months is simple: you don’t have extra cash on the side to afford a two-way train ticket.
Sensing your bewilderment, Jungkook takes your silence as a sign to explain further his sudden proposition. “Our company gave us few days off to relax before final comeback preparations so I decided I could go home,” It’s what he says and unsure of what to answer with, you only hum in response. “You told me some time ago you haven’t seen your parents since Christmas so I thought you might accompany me.”
Something squeezes in your chest hearing that. You fail to hide the smile creeping on your features and despite the many obstacles that should be a warning sign for you to say no, you find yourself reminiscing in the idea of spending a weekend at home with Jungkook. Just like old times.
“Okay. I agree.”
Upon hearing your response, Jungkook breathes out a sigh of relief to the phone. “I thought you would ditch me.”
“Excuse me? Who do you think I am? I wouldn’t miss an opportunity to eat my mum’s bulgogi.”
You can’t ignore how you’re feeling, cheeks flushed and a silly smile stretching on your lips. But there’s still that bugging thought present at the back of your head, reminding you of your illicit affair and every mistake you’ve made so far. Maybe agreeing to a small trip down childhood memory lane is one of them.
Right now, sitting in a cafeteria and talking on the phone with Jungkook about the details and your mum’s cooking skills, you pretend like you’ve turned back the time and everything else is a mere drawback to deal with later.
“I can’t believe I agreed to do that.”
That, is a blatant lie. You know damn well why you’re standing on the pavement in front of the building you live in as Jungkook pulls up with his high-priced, straight-from-the-salon black Mercedes. Something ignites in your lower stomach at the mere memory of what you’ve done there inside last time.
When he exits the car, you disregard as best as you can the aloof feeling in your chest, seeing him adjusting his bucket hat further down. This is the life he’s living, you remind yourself. If he wants to minimize the risk of people with preying eyes recognizing him.
Dressed in all black, he comes up to you and lifts his head up. That’s when you see him fully for the first time since he stumbled through your drunk and barely conscious. He smiles widely approaching you, not an ounce of uncertainty in his movements when he wraps his arms around you in a bear hug.
“What’s that for?” you mumble.
“Just missed you.”
He smells like the flowery fabric softener you know he likes. It almost lulls you into paying no mind to the thumping of your heart against your ribcage and redness blossoming on your cheeks.
It almost makes you forget he’s not yours, and you will never be his.
You’re the first one to withdraw, stepping away. “You’re such a sap.” It’s the first thing that comes to your mind to say after such intimate moment – twist it into something without depth and meaning you’re so afraid of facing.
He shrugs, still smiling. “I’m just happy we’re going to spend some time together with our families.”
You know he is. Jungkook has always been a family person. Moving out at a ripe age of fourteen paradoxically strengthened the bond he has with his parents and brother.
He picks up your bag from the ground and throws it into the trunk next to his. Getting into the car, you mutter, “You know, I tweet ‘eat the rich’ every two days but you are safe from my hatred for high class as long as you drive my ass with this expensive car to Busan.”
Jungkook chuckles, starting the engine. “Thanks for your kindness, love. Good to know I’m pardoned.”
“Jokes aside, I mean it though. I might want Jeff Bezos to rot in hell but at the same time I think you deserve that money because I know you worked hard to achieve it.” you say, buckling your seatbelt.
He spares you a quick glance and arches his eyebrow. “I didn’t know you are actually a fellow comrade Y/N, Miss Grumpy.”
“Oh, boy. Follow me on my private account. You’ll see then how radical I can get.”
You earn another laugh from him and you find yourself getting more and more comfortable in the situation, sitting in his car and venturing onto a weekend trip to your hometown. The perspective of spending a couple of hours with Jungkook in the same car doesn’t seem to bother you as much as it did the whole week before.
Tapping the unknown rhythm on your thighs, you reach to press what you think might be the radio button. Your aren’t good with modern technology, so you smile triumphantly to yourself, hearing the first tunes blasting from the speakers.
The slow pop-ballad ends and radio host announces next song as ‘fan favorite’. You look out of the window for a short while just to be brought back to the reality by the sound playing in the background. You know this song more than well.
“No. We are not listening to this.” Jungkook reaches to change the radio station with a speed of light, but you swat his hand away.
“Jesus christ, stop being so dramatic. I love Blood Sweat and Tears! It’s a masterpiece.” you protest.
“I thought you don’t listen to our songs.”
You gasp, placing a hand on your chest. “Excuse me? I’ve been to your concert twice, dumbass. And I’m saving up money for another.”
That, is true. You like listening to BTS not because of Jungkook (though he might one of the reasons you fancy them) but it’s their music and message in general. Now, since they’re over their badboy phases and objectifying women in every ‘love song’, you’re fond of them even more.
You start humming Namjoon’s part when Jungkook cuts in. “Okay, then. Who’s your bias?” he asks.
You don’t miss the way he seems to grip the steering wheel tighter. Of course he would be that petty to ask you this. To entertain yourself a little, you quip, “Take a wild guess.”
“It has to be Jimin-hyung.” he says right away.
You shake your head. “Boo. Try again.”
“Namjoon-hyung. You bit your lip when he started rapping his part.”
“That’s bullshit. Namjoon’s hot but not my type. And you should keep your eyes on the road, buddy.” Placing your fingers on his chin, you turn his head away.
Jungkook sighs. “Who is it then?”
“Taehyung.”
Hearing your response, he snorts. “I should’ve known that.”
“And why is that?” you ask, trying to hide your amusement.
“Because he’s the most good looking from us all. He dresses stylishly,” You could tell by the tongue in his cheek you’re irking him right now. Adding to the irony, Taehyung’s part in the song comes blasting from the speakers. “He has a nice, deep voice.” Jungkook adds and before he can name another positive trait of his friend, you chime in.
“Is somebody jealous?”
Though you’re clearly making fun of him, he decides to chuckle like he doesn’t give a fuck anyway. “Jealous? Of Tae? Please. I have no reason to be.”
Smirking to yourself, you find his demeanor too entertaining. “That’s good then. Because I think you’re handsome too. And I love your voice when you sing.” you say, turning your head to the side to observe his reaction.
No matter how much he tries to hide it, clenching his jaw and giving you an eye roll, there’s no use for that. The blush covering his cheeks gives him anyway. His agony ends with one last beat of the song.
Hiding a yawn behind your palm, you lean back onto your seat. Last night you didn’t get as much as you’d like to and your four hours long drive to Busan seems like a great opportunity for a compensatory nap.
Drifting off to sleep, the last thing you remember is Jungkook’s hands on the steering wheel and his soft voice humming the song playing in the radio.
“Hey, sleeping beauty, wake up. We’re almost there.”
Slowly opening your eyes, you’re met with familiar-looking streets of your hometown, Busan. You jerk abruptly, straightening your posture. “Why didn’t you wake me sooner?” you ask, looking to your left at Jungkook.
He shrugs in response. “You looked like you didn’t want to be waken. And trust me, I know what it feels like to be brought back to reality from a good nap too early.”
You don’t dwell on that more. Instead, you look out of the window, greedily drinking in the city. You’re now driving through downtown, passing by shining skyscrapers. Both yours and Jungkook’s houses are situated in a more peaceful area of Busan, closer to the sea. That’s why you spent most of your childhood and teenage days there as long as the weather was merciful.
Spring has always been your favourite time of the year but spring in Busan hits different. You don’t have an occasion to sit by the sea and watch the sky burning in orange and red in Seoul. Here, where you used to grow up, spring is the cherry tree blossoming, your mum planting vegetable seeds in her small garden behind your house, you and Jungkook smoking cigarettes underneath the pier while the sun hides behind the horizon.
“Did you tell your parents you’re coming?” Jungkook’s voice pulls you from your thoughts.
“No, I didn’t. I want it to be a surprise for them.”
“Oh, that’s cute.” he comments curtly and turns right. You’re approximately thirty minutes until you reach your destination. “I need to talk with you about one more thing before we get there.”
You focus your sight on him, however he seems to avoid your eyes. You give him a sign to continue. “Go on.”
Jungkook rubs his forehead with his hand and then sighs. It’s a nervous habit of his, you recognize. “I just want to apologize for causing you so much trouble. Not only last time but in general,” He stops at the red light and cocks his head to the side to look at you. “I acted like a complete dick and you don’t deserve to be treated like that. I’m sorry for everything. I thought this small trip here would be some sort of redemption for me, I don’t know.” The lights turns to orange, then to green and he focuses his eyes on the road again.
Reaching over the gearshift, you place a hand on his thigh to get his attention. When he peeks at you with the same, round, sparkly eyes you’ve grown to adore, all you can do is smile softly. “I’m okay, Kook. If that’s what you need, I don’t mind helping you. If only it means you’ll be okay too.”
Perhaps he notices the sadness in your eyes when you say it. Perhaps he can tell your smile is not the happiest he’s ever seen. If he does, he chooses to stay silent. Instead, he nods. Taking his action as a sight to withdraw, you straighten on your seat.
“There’s one more anything, actually,” Jungkook adds after a while.
“What is it?”
“You’re invited to a party.”
“What party?” you ask, brows furrowed.
‘’We are celebrating Junghyun’s engagement.” he says casually.
Eyes widening, you let out a shocked gasp. “What?! Your brother got engaged?”
Jungkook sends you a look. “Jealous, buttercup?”
You roll your eyes. “I told you I had a crush on your brother when I was ten. It’s been twelve years since then. Twelve!” you exclaim, but he only smirks in response.
The reason you liked Junghyun as a kid was simple: he was your best friend’s older brother. He was just there yet unreachable at the same time.
(And he didn’t have as many pimples as Jungkook.)
But Junghyun getting married? That is a news to you. You clearly remember him telling you one day he would never form a serious relationship before he reaches thirty. Looks like he made up his mind.
“I’m just pleasantly surprised he decided to settle down. Junghyun has always been more of a free soul when it comes to dating. I even remember your mum throwing him a tantrum during barbecue because of this.” you say.
“Honestly, I’m not that shocked. You should’ve seen him looking at Hyerin during our Christmas dinner. This boy is whipped.” Jungkook chuckles.
“Your parents must be happy.” you comment absentmindedly.
He nods, the corners of his mouth stretching in a small smile. “Yeah, they are. They really like Hyerin. And considering they won’t be getting grandchildren anytime soon thanks to my line of work–” he trails off, “–they are even happier that hyung is settling down.”
The air seems heavy now inside Jungkook’s car. He said an obvious thing you were aware of but something aches in your chest at the thought.
You will never understand why there’s so much stigmatization surrounding idols dating other people. Wanting to be loved by someone is a natural, human need. Prohibition won’t magically stop them from catching feelings.
But there’s also another side of the story – the one Jungkook referred to. In his line of work even if there are no obstacles, it’s hard to maintain a long-lasting relationship. And he knows that.
You still remember vividly his first girlfriend. Her name was Eunbi and she was one of their manager’s daughter. Her dad used to take her to the MV sets, introduced her to the boys because she was a fan of them. And that’s how she met Jungkook.
Jungkook, age seventeen, was too shy to hold a proper conversation and keep eye contact with a girl at the same time but somehow, him and Eunbi got along pretty quickly. They shared a sympathy for the same video games and for Jungkook back then it was enough to fall head over heels for her. She was his first kiss as he told you (”First real one, because I don’t count that peck Jisoo gave me in fifth grade as a kiss.”)
After that moment you decided you’d never like Eunbi. Not because you were furiously in love with him, no.
You just didn’t want to see him form such a close bond with anyone else but you.
Their fairytale love story ended when Eunbi’s father found out about their secret randez-vous. Jungkook sulked for a week and then eventually got over Eunbi.
(And he was again texting you about that video game you had no interest in but you pretended to be a good substitute for Eunbi and her nerdiness you lacked.)
“What are you thinking about?”
You’re standing on the red light again. Glancing at Jungkook, you find him staring right back at you. “I’m wondering whether I’m invited to the wedding.” you lie.
“Of course you are. I’m sure hyung is going to do it officially tomorrow,” he answers with a grin. “I think Taehyung is coming too. He loves weddings.”
Narrowing your eyes, you reply with a saccharine sweet voice, “It’s about time you introduce me to your bandmates. Especially Taehyung-oppa.”
“Oppa?”
You bite your lip. There’s no doubt you did that on purpose. You find it rather amusing to see Jungkook so worked up over such a silly thing. You wonder how far you can go before he finally snaps.
Smirking to yourself, shrug your shoulders. “The light’s green. Watch the road, Kookie.”
Jungkook huffs, shaking his head. It’s approximately fifteen minutes until you reach your destination. “I’m sure you will be delighted to meet him.” he says with enough amount of sarcasm for you to know he’s irritated.
“Oh, I will be over the moon.”
“Good.”
“Amazing, even.”
You hope he doesn’t notice you failing to maintain a serious expression.
You moved with your parents to your new house in Busan at the age of eight, two ponytails, overalls and sparkly sneakers every kid wanted to have adoring your small frame, a look of pure concern worrying your childish, chubby features.
It was a quiet neighborhood, on the suburbs of the town, a row of similarly looking terraced buildings and small gardens in front of them, every single one akin to the other. There was nothing distinctive about the area, it screamed dullness and tedium but for years you have grown to call this place home.
You know every corner here inside out. A local grocery store owned by a lovable, elder woman known as Miss Kim, who always has spare candies underneath the counter for children who come to buy something for their parents. Next to the store, there is a florist’s. Your first, high school part-time job. The intense smell of roses makes you nauseous to these days.
There is also your primary school, huge backyard behind it with a run-down playground. You never minded it though, spending there probably too much time for your parents liking. Many memories were made there. First, innocent childish peck placed on your cheek from a 6th grader named Jinyoung. Twisted ankle, tears, pain and regret because you decided to jump off the highest step of the climbing frame one Friday afternoon after classes. A punch to the face of school’s bully Dongin, who called your new pair of Converse trainers ugly.
It was exactly fourteen days before the end of August when you met Jungkook.
You had been living in the new house for almost a month but still felt too insecure to explore the neighborhood. Most of your time you were spending inside, missing your old friends and reading books to distract your attention from the approaching start of the second semester in school.
It was probably one of the last scorching-hot days of the year and you were sitting in your garden alone, family’s cat named Leo purring on your lap, when all of a sudden a ball bounced on the grass right in front of you, landing perfectly at your feet and almost scarring Leo to death.
And then, you looked up and saw him.
A pair of big, black doe-like eyes hidden behind a fringe of onyx hair staring at you through the fence curiously. The boy was not much older than you, probably around your age. He was wearing a striped football t-shirt with some popular team name.
You fidgeted slightly on the pavement where you were sitting, glancing at the boy shyly like you didn’t know why he was looking at you so intensely. You noticed a small scar on his left cheek, his knees were bruised, splashed with dirt just like his sneakers.
“Can you give me my ball?” he asked suddenly, startling you.
Your eyes widened. Of course he would talk to you, you scolded yourself, he wants his ball back.
When you didn’t answer immediately, he continued, “I kicked my ball here by an accident. Can you give it to me?” He pointed at the object lying at your feet.
You nodded and picked up the ball from the ground. You threw it over the fence, so it landed directly on the other side.
“Thanks.” the black-haired boy said. “I’m Jungkook, by the way. What’s your name?”
“___.” you responded and the boy, Jungkook, grinned at you friendly, showing his bunny-like smile. He looked cute.
“Bye, ___! See you tomorrow!” he beamed and headed back to his house.
Tomorrow. He wanted to meet up with you and what? Play football? You were petrified, as the eight-years-old girl should be after hearing such thing from a boy.
And just like he promised, Jungkook visited you the next day. He took you to that playground behind your new primary school. You came home with bruised legs and splotches of dirt on your skirt, to your mother’s dismay.
You also came home with a content grin plastered on your face and a new friend.
Unexpectedly, Jungkook appeared to be a pleasant company and you found yourself enjoying his boyish bickering while fulfilling the rest of the summer break doing things your old friends would consider inappropriate for a girl.
You never thought you could be friends with someone like Jungkook. He was a boy, for God’s sake, and your eight-years-old-barbie-phase-self absolutely despised boys. But months passed quickly and you both found yourselves stuck to each other sides. Something in your relationship simply clicked.
The neighborhood you grew up in isn’t a suburban area but it definitely seems more peaceful than busy streets of downtown. You pass by local church, miss Kim’s store and the big, luxurious house owned my Gwon family you dreamt of living in when you were a kid.
And then, approximately two hundred meters further, there is your house.
“Here we are.” Jungkook says, pulling up at his parent’s driveway. They left the gate open, anticipating their son’s arrival.
Jungkook hands you your belongings, offering you sheepish smile. “I thought that once you unpack and eat dinner, we could go to the beach together,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “Of course, only if you want to.”
You don’t give his proposition a second thought. “I’d love to.”
He grins in response and you take it as a sign to leave and finally meet your parents. From the distance you see your mother in the garden, dressed in her usual clothing – black and red checked shirt and cropped denim pants she wears while gardening.
She doesn’t notice you yet, too busy pulling weeds from her precious tulips. You know her better not to creep behind her like that, so you take a deep breath and shout, “Eomma! It’s me!”
She stands up and twirls around to face you. Her eyes visibly widen, like she actually thought her mind is playing tricks on her and she might have misheard you.
“Good Lord, Y/N, sweetie, is that really you?” She throws away her gloves and jogs up to you, enveloping you immadietly in a bear hug. “I missed you so much. Why didn’t you say anything you’re coming?”
“I wanted it to be a surprise,” you mumble. “Jungkook took me with him.”
At that, your mother pulls away. She arches her brows. “Jungkookie is home as well?” she asks, earning a nod from you in response. “You’re talking with him again?” Her voice is laced with apparent bewilderment but that’s exactly what you expected her reaction to be like.
Your mother is aware you and Jungkook haven’t been keeping in touch for three long years. She was basically your only source of information about him (besides Twitter) thanks to her close friendship with his parents.
“That’s quite a long story. I will tell you everything later.” you say. Well, maybe not entirely everything. You’re for sure going to miss out the parts you’re not proud of.
Your mother doesn’t press you more about it. Instead, she puts her arm around your shoulders and pulls you to her side. “It’s your lucky day sweetie, because we have your favorite bulgogi for dinner. Honey, come here quick!” she shouts and you chuckle, hearing your father responding with: “What is it again?”.
The door to your house creak open, revealing your flustered dad. His expression morphs into a genuine smile when he spots you. “Is it really my daughter or are my eyes deceiving me?” he asks.
‘’Your eyesight is fine, appa. It’s really me.” You come up and give him a small hug. He was never the affectionate type of parent but once you moved out, he let his facade break a little.
From where you’re standing now, you have a clear view of Jeons’ house. Here, fourteen years ago, sitting on your porch, you met Jungkook for the first time. You see his window upstairs, alligned perfectly with yours. You wonder if he’s already there, inside, unpacking in his blue-painted childhood room.
(What if it isn’t painted blue anymore?)
“Come on, let’s go. You’re probably starving.” your mother says, pulling your mind back to the present.
Walking into your house, all you can think about are his tears-filled eyes when you were bidding him goodbye almost ten years ago in his blue bedroom.
It takes you more or less thirty minutes to reach the bay.
When you were younger, you used to ride there by bikes practically every single day during summer. You loved sitting on the beach and observing people enjoying their time; swimming in the sea, kids building sand castles and their mums trying to relax among childlike chatter and the smell coming from nearby fishmonger’s store.
It was Jungkook who discovered the spot underneath pier. His curiosity only a twelve-year-old can posses led him there one day after school. At first, you were rather reluctant to go and didn’t mirror his excitement but once he actually showed you it, you changed your mind completely.
It was a perfect place to hide from the world. You called it a ‘temple’ because it really felt like no one beside you knew about its existence, and that’s what made it sacred to you. When Jungkook moved away you were left to go there by yourself. Without him, it always felt like it was something missing.
Right now, sitting here feels like you’ve you’ve turned back the time.
It’s like you’re eighteen again, running away from the whole world, starting your own rebellion with a cigarette caught between your lips and sun disappearing behind the horizon. Listening to the songs Jungkooks had saved on his old iPod and catching up with everything that happened during the last few months when he was absent in your life.
When you were eighteen you didn’t even know how to smoke properly, blowing out the fume too quickly and stiffing a cough so Jungkook wouldn’t laugh at you. Now it’s a different story.
Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you notice how much he’s changed physically over these five years that have passed. Gone is the baby fat on his cheeks, replaced with sculpted jawline and prominent nose. His hair is longer, falling on his forehead. There’s more piercings on his ears, an expensive watch wrapped around his wrist.
He looks breathtaking. It never occurred to you before just how beautiful Jungkook really is up close, when there’s no flashing cameras around and make-up covering every imperfection on his face with concealer.
This is your Jungkook. The same one whose competitive nature never let you win any of his computer games, who called you after their debut showcase with quivering voice, who always treated you as his equal even when other boys were making fun of him for being friends with a girl. Your Jungkook, who’s too good for this world to be treated so unfairly.
“I think Minho is cheating on me.” you blurt out.
It’s been sitting on your tongue for weeks and now you finally let the words slip. You don’t see his reaction but from the sharp intake of breath you assume it’s not something he’s expected to hear from you.
“Few weeks ago I read a message on his phone from some girl asking when he will be free next time,” you continue before you could stop yourself. “He’s been meeting with her alone behind my back this whole time and I didn’t notice anything until now.” A pair of arms wrap around your frame. Jungkook presses a fleeting kiss to the crown of your head. “I don’t even know if that’s true or I’m overreacting but I just can’t understand how he can lie to me one day and the next propose to move in with him.”
You don’t realise you’re crying until you feel Jungkook hugging you closer to him. You burry you face into his chest as sob after sob shakes your body. “Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispers, stroking your hair. “I’m here.”
Few minutes pass until you calm down, wiping your tear-stained cheeks with your hand. Jungkook offers you a tissue and you thank him with a small smile. You can only imagine how ridiculous you look right now, with smudges of mascara underneath your eyes and red nose. Not a sight for sore eyes.
“I’m sorry. I just needed to get it off my chest.” you say after a moment.
“You don’t have anything to apologize for, Y/N. If you need to talk about it, I’m here for you. I’m still your friend, right?” Jungkook asks, meeting your eyes.
You nod, although he’s anything but friend for you. “Right.”
Because friends don’t console each other with burning touches on bare skin. They don’t give into carnality and submit to pleasure, putting it before everything else.
From the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook’s jaw clenching. “I’m gonna kick his ass when I meet him.”
Before you could stop yourself, you mumble, “He should probably kick yours, too.”
Jungkook visibly stiffens, hearing your words. He avoids your eyes, staring down at his lap instead. You wonder what he’s thinking about now. Does he regret his actions? Do you regret letting it happen? No matter how much you know you did wrong, there’s a part of you longing for more. Because with Jungkook, you felt alive. Minho could never compare.
Reuniting with Jungkook after three years made you realize just how much you needed him back in your life. You actually stopped being mad at him the moment he stood in your room for the first time that night, disheveled and sleepy.
You could love him. Perhaps you’ve always did. But he cannot give you more. Nothing besides bitter-sweet pleasure between the sheets.
It’s Jungkook who speaks first.
“I might not be the best man in the world but I would never, ever hurt you like Minho does,” he says and you know he means it. He stares at you intensely. “You do believe me, right?”
“I do.” you whisper truthfully.
He then leans closer and when you think he might actually kiss you, he places a small peck on your forehead. ‘’Good,” he murmurs, still inches from your lips. “Come on, let’s go. It’s getting late and I can practically hear my mum already complaining she doesn’t have enough time to spend with her son.”
You nod aabsentmindedly at his words.
There’s a tough conversation for you to have once you’ll be back in Seoul again. Finding out about Minho’s lies was a point of no return for you. It made you realise you’ve been on this path with your relationship for a while now, missing signs or not paying enough attention to the details.
But what is even more disturbing to you, is that you didn’t let Jungkook warm your bed out of simple frustration or heartache. You did it because you wanted him. And that thought scares you the most.
The first thing Jungkook hears in the morning when he wakes up is the high-pitched chatter and the clutter of pots coming from the kitchen.
He sighs to himself, staring at his blue ceiling. The clock on his bedside table reads 10am and at this rate, it looks like he won’t be getting any more sleep, not when his mum and soon-to-be sister-in-law are making a fuss downstairs preparing for the party.
The strong smell of homemade food invades his senses as soon as he enters the kitchen. He spots his mum putting something in the oven, her usual red and white polka-dot apron adoring her form. Hyerin is right next to her, busy cutting some vegetables and listening tentatively to her mother-in-law’s babbling.
“Good morning.” Jungkook says in a groggy voice followed by a yawn.
“Morning.” Hyerin quips, flashing him a smile.
Jungkook’s mother barely acknowledges his presence, too busy moving around the kitchen and making sure nothing is burning or overcooking. Feeling the first rumble of his stomach, Jungkook opens the fridge and stares blankly at its contents.
Miss Jeon runs her house by the rule the more, the better when it comes to preparing food for special family occasions. Hence why there’s so many different type of products lined up in front of him, just begging to become a remedy for his empty stomach.
“Nu-uh, don’t even think about it!” she chimes in, closing the fridge in front of Jungkook’s face and crushing his dreams about having egg toasts for breakfast. He stares at her with confused expression. “Order yourself something for breakfast, please. We need kitchen to ourselves right now.”
Knowing better not to argue with his mother, Jungkook sighs in defeat and opens the food delivery app on his phone. He chooses the first option that comes to his mind that won’t take too long to make and slumps down onto the couch.
“Eomma, where’s dad and hyung?” he asks, debating whether to turn on the TV or not. He decides on leaving it silent.
“I sent them to the grocery store. They should be back in two hours,” she responds. “Hyerin-ssi, please make sure to keep an eye on the soup. I’ll be right back!” The door to bathroom slams behind her and Jungkook chuckles under his breath.
“Is she giving you hard time?” he asks Hyerin once he knows his mother cannot hear them.
Hyerin looks up to peek a glance in his direction. “Your mum is a lovely person, really, but she can be… a lot sometimes. Especially when she’s stressed.” she says, smiling coyly.
“Tell me about it.”
She lets out a laugh that quickly dies down when aforementioned woman emerges from the bathroom. Instead of heading straight to the kitchen, she makes her way to Jungkook. “What are you planning to do after breakfast, Jungkookie?”
Jungkook shrugs because honestly, he hasn’t given a thought it yet. “I don’t know. Maybe I can help you with something here.” he proposes, although cutting onions and cabbage is the last thing he would like to do.
Fortunately, the grimace on his mother’s face tells her she’s not quite fond of his proposition. “Oh, no, no, no. We’re perfectly fine on our own with Hyerin-ssi. We don’t need extra pair of hands. Why do you think I told Junghyun to go with dad?” she asks rhetorically with raised eyebrows.
Of course Jungkook knows why. Kitchen is his mother’s kingdom. No one steps a foot there while she prepares food unless she permits it herself. Today she’s even more uncompromising about it because it’s the first time Hyerin parents are meeting Junghyun’s. It’s the matter of making a good impression as the host.
“Maybe you could call Y/N and ask her what her plans are? I’m sure she won’t be very busy.” Jungkook’s mother prompts and he feels like he’s ten again, bored on Saturday and wondering what to do with himself. Then, an idea pops in his mind.
“Yeah. You’re right,” he agrees. “I’ll call her.”
Maybe a literal trip down memory lane is everything he needs to feel like himself again.
As predicted, at first you welcomed his idea with a little bit of qualm, yet you said yes nonetheless.
And now here you are, hanging out together at the playground behind your old primary school. Getting there wasn’t an easy task, it required some parkour abilities and jumping over the fence because the place is apparently being locked on weekends now. Ten years ago it used to be your life estate on Saturdays.
You’re currently sat on a swing, watching Jungkook doing pull ups. You have a nagging suspicion that he chose to go on with his daily workout routine right now on purpose but you’re not better yourself, doing rather poor job at ignoring the way his hoodie rides upwards with every move he makes, revealing his toned abdomen.
“Okay, I’m done.” he grunts, letting go of the bar. He plops down on the other swing next you with a heavy exhale. “How many was it?” he then asks, referring to the number of pull ups you were supposed to keep a track off.
For a moment you forget you’re supposed to answer, eyes focused on Jungkook’s throat as he chugs down the whole water bottle.
“Hmm?” he repeats and you quickly snap out of your trance.
“I lost count.” Truthfully, you didn’t even make an attempt to do so. You were too distracted by the act itself to pay attention to anything else, let alone do basic math. Now you do understand all these girls going crazy when they get a glimpse of his sculpted body.
Jungkook rolls his eyes in response and starts swinging himself back and forth. It you recall correctly, he lost one of his front baby teeth here, jumping off the swing.
“I thought a lot of would change here after so many years. But it looks exactly like I remembered it.” he says, slowing down to a halt.
You nod at his words. Apart from a little painting and renovations done here and there, it’s like it all got stuck in time. You’re about to add that your mother told you the infamous principal Choi is still consistently running the school, but Jungkook doesn’t let you vocalize it.
“Wait,” He stands up suddenly and walks to the seesaw swing. You furrow your brows as he crouches on the ground and attentively observes the object, presumably searching for something. “A-ha! Here it is! I knew it still would be there.” he exclaims excitedly after a few seconds.
Confused, you come up to him. “What are you doing?”
“Look,” he says, pointing at the wooden base of the seesaw. At first glance you don’t notice anything but as you get closer, you see what he meant.
Jinyoung + Y/N = ♡ engraved on the swing.
“Oh my god.” you groan, covering your face in embarrassment.
Jungkook ignores your whining and actually snaps a picture of his finding. “You know what’s actually funny? It was me who did this because you didn’t have enough strength.” He giggles, making your cheeks heat up in bright shade of red. “I stole my dad’s pocket knife for it. Such a shame your love story lasted only a week.”
“I’m not listening to you!” you announce and quickly come back to your previous spot on the swing.
Jungkook doesn’t give up easily though, enjoying tormenting you with your pre-teen love life. He follows you, asking, “Wasn’t he your first kiss as well?” You keep your mouth shut, avoiding his eyes. He then clasps his hands. “Yeah, I remember now. Sixth grade. He kissed you here, am I right?”
You wish you could wipe off that smirk from his face.
“I never liked Jinyoung,” he continues, sitting down next to you on the second swing. “But I always wanted to have that black range rover his dad drove.”
Your face heats up even more at the mere mention of Jinyoung and his dad’s car in one sentence. Jungkook can make fun of your silly crush as much he wants, but he doesn’t know one thing.
That your little infatuation had a sequel.
Taking a deep breath, you lean closer to him and ask, “Wanna know a secret?” He sends you a curious look and nods. You brace yourself for what is about to come. “I lost my virginity at the back of that range rover.”
Jungkook chokes on air. His eyes widen in pure shock and you have to fight an urge to laugh at how ridiculous he looks right now, gaping at you with mouth wide open. “What the fuck, Y/N?! Tell me you’re joking, please.”
You sigh, shaking your head. “I wish but unfortunately, that’s true. We went to the same high school and somehow… our paths crossed together again.” you explain.
“And you decided to fuck him in his dad’s car?”
“No, dumbass. We were dating. For whole six months.”
Jungkook sends you a look. “And you didn’t tell me?”
“It’s not like we were talking back then,” you reply sheepishly, toying with the edge of your sweater. Suddenly it’s hard for you to meet his scrutinizing stare. “You stopped responding to my messages a little before I started dating him.”
The atmosphere between you tenses. Jungkook’s expression morphs from astonishment into guilt and you curse yourself for ruining the mood.
Jinyoung is just a mere memory, one of many mistakes you made during your teen years. He wasn’t anyone special to you anymore, he never had been. Not even when he deflowered you on the backseat of his dad’s car one night after some party. You were too drunk to care and too inexperienced to do more than just lie there and take it. With your skirt hiked up and blouse mid-open, wondering if Jinyoung was just as clueless as you when it came to sex or he simply didn’t know how to pleasure women.
What Jungkook doesn’t have to know, is that you jumped into the relationship with Jinyoung to fill the void your best friend created three years ago with unanswered messages and never returned calls. You were lonely in high school, you couldn’t manage to form a close bond with anyone after Jungkook. You hoped Jinyoung was good enough for a replacement.
“What about you then?” you ask to clear the atmosphere. “I told you my secret, now you reveal me yours.”
To loosen up the tension a bit, you decide to play the quid pro quo card. Partially out of curiosity, but mostly because you feel like you’ve exposed yourself too much in a short period of time. It will only be fair if he gives you the same in return.
Jungkook smiles bashfully. For the person who had done many dirty things to you before, he sure looks shy now. “I was nineteen as well. She was a friend of a friend, four years older than me. We met a party, flirted a little and one thing led to another,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “I’ve never seen here after that. She tried to contact me but I just… I didn’t want to commit to something more.”
Is he ready for more now? you wonder silently. The question stays at the tip of your tongue though. You can’t wish for more when everything he’s able to provide is a few, quick moments of blissful relief between the sheets when sun goes down.
But what if you want more? What if you’ve always, subconsciously, felt like you belonged together but universe decided to split you apart? What if you’ve always been in love with your best friend?
The realization hits you like a tsunami. All these years, you spent denying your feelings for him. And when there’s a chance for you act on them, you back away.
Because even if he’s now inches from you, he seems out of your reach.
By the time you gulp down your third glass of champagne, Jungkook’s brother’s engagement party is in full swing.
Junghyun and Hyerin didn’t invite many people to celebrate. It’s a small, family gathering. Your parents were invited thanks to the almost twenty-years-long friendship with Jeons, which started when you moved into the new house next to theirs.
Jungkook looks painfully handsome dressed in black suit pants and emerald green button-up shirt. His raven hair is styled the way you like the most, parted in the middle and revealing his forhead. You, on the other hand, are wearing a simple, long-sleeved navy blue dress you’ve had on multiple occasions before but it’s still your top go-to garment when you have nothing else to put on.
“Have I told you look great tonight, buttercup?”
Turning around, you’re met with Junghyun’s smiling face. Of course he would approach you with his childhood nickname for you that used to make your heart flutter.
Besides his hair color, there’s little resemblance between him and Jungkook when it comes to appearance. While Jungkook took a lot after their father, Junghyun is almost a cardboard copy of their mum. Even their characters are two polar opposites. Junghyun is the more outgoing, boisterous type but Jungkook still tends to act introverted towards strangers.
And paradoxically, it’s the younger brother who’s making a career in entertainment industry.
“Shouldn’t you be complementing your fiancée instead?” you ask, accepting another glass of Martini Junghyun hands you.
“As you can see, she’s busy being interrogated by my mother.”
From the corner of your eye, you see Hyerin nodding along to whatever miss Jeon is telling her right now, expressively gesturing. It’s her brand to do so. Your father says that she talks with her mouth and hands simultaneously.
“I’m sure Hyerin-ssi went through it already when they were preparing food together earlier today.” you joke.
Junghyun chuckles, having a seat next to you. He sends quick, supportive thumbs-up to to his girlfriend when she glances at him from the spot she occupies on the couch. You can’t help but coo at the sight.
“So,” you quip, “when’s the wedding?”
“Next year in August,” Junghyun answers. “You’re obviously invited as well.”
You smirk around the champagne glass. “I wouldn’t miss seeing my childhood crush getting married.”
Junghyun laughs at that, throwing his head back. After a moment he adds, “It’s funny though, how you were gushing over me when the boy who had heart eyes for you was right under your nose.”
You arch a brow. “You mean Jungkook? He had a crush on me?”
“If course he did. You were the only girl who talked to him and moreover, you always helped him with his homework and you know how bad he was at algebra,” Junghyun says, sending you a knowing look. That much is true. Jungkook did suck at Math and could not, for crying out loud, interact with girls. “If he could, he would’ve taken you with him to Seoul all those years ago.”
Your eyes involuntarily drift to aforementioned boy, standing with his father in the kitchen. They are looking at something your dad is showing them on his phone, probably pictures of the car he recently renovated.
(A classic Chevrolet Camaro 1969. For all you know it looked like Damon’s car in Vampire Diaries.)
You can see Jungkook’s eyes growing big as he stares down at the screen. Obviously, he’s genuinely amazed with what he sees. You can only hope your dad won’t try persuading him to sell his luxurious Mercedes and buy something vintage instead.
“Why didn’t ever tell me that?” you ask, your voice quivery. You take another gulp of your drink to soothe the emotions bubbling in your chest and you barely succeed.
Junghyun shrugs his shoulders in response. “Would it change anything? You were thirteen-year-old kids back then and he was moving out to another city to make his big dream come true.”
Pursing your lips, you nod. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
You don’t know exactly what Jungkook feels for you right now. Back when you were teenagers, it was just a fleeting attraction. Perhaps he thought about you this way because you were a girl who liked spending time with him.
“I know him giving up your friendship was a dick move but you have to believe me that this boy has been really lost these past three years. Now he’s trying to find himself again, to become a better version of himself,” Junghyun remarks. “He needs his best friend to help him do so.”
Turning once again to look at Jungkook, you catch him staring right back at you. He flashes a cheeky grin and completely fails winking at you. You’re lips automatically stretch into a smile seeing his goofiness. You like that side of him. It suits him.
“I think I need to go save my fiancee from my mother.” Junghyun whispers, catching you off guard. He follows your line of sight and smirks to himself. “Go talk to him. I’m sure your dad wouldn’t mind snatching Jungkook for a bit.” Unlike his younger brother, he lands a perfect wink.
Like beckoned, Jungkook approaches you when Junghyun leaves the table. “Aren’t you a little sad he’s getting married, buttercup?” It’s the first thing that night he says to you.
Fighting an urge to snort, you ask, “Aren’t you tired of being jealous I chose Junghyun-oppa as the object of my affection and not you when we were kids?”
Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek, manifesting his irritation. You relish in it even more now, having the knowledge he used to pin after you. He ignores your witty retort though completely.
“Want to get out of here for a while?”
Your heart skips a beat. “Where?” you blurt out, looking around the room for any place comfortable for you to stay in for a while.
“Isn’t it obvious?” When you raise your brows in question he adds, “To your house, of course.”
“But–”
He shooshes you with a finger on his lips. “No buts, Miss Grumpy. It’s been ages since I’ve been in your room. Do you still have that Edward Cullen’s poster above your bed?” he asks and this time, you actually land a punch to his arm.
Downing the rest of your champagne, you get up from the chair. “Shall we?”
“Ladies first.”
“I still can’t understand why did you really hang a poster of some pale dude above your bed.”
You’re climbing up the stairs to your room, and Jungkook is in the middle of his rant about Why Twilight Has Ever Been A Thing. You’re ten seconds from pointing out his teenage female crushes one by one, starting with IU just to rile him up.
“It’s just weird for me,” he huffs upon taking one last step to the top.
You whip your head to send him a glare. “Do you really want me to say the same thing about your fans worshipping your posters?” you ask, eyes narrowed. “You’re out of their reach just like Edward Cullen was out of mine when I was fourteen.”
He points his finger at you. “But he’s a fictional vampire and I’m real.”
“Exactly!”
You leave him with that, eyebrows scrunched in confusion, and open the door to your room.
“So you did get rid of him after all.”
Nothing really much changed in your childhood room since you moved out four years ago. Your walls are still painted in lavender but the posters are long gone, much to Jungkook’s dismay. There is a bookshelf with all your favorite positions (Twilight included) standing directly next to the desk which is now pearl white, just like the rest of your furniture.
Before you can say anything, Jungkook plops down onto your bed. “You still got them though,” he murmurs and you glance in his direction, waiting for him to elaborate on what he means. He raises his finger to the ceiling. “Those yellow stars that shine when it’s dark. You have the same in your apartment in Seoul.”
“Oh, yeah,” you awkwardly reply, looking up. “I put them there so I can have something reminding me of home.”
Truth to be told, you are a sentimental person. The very best evidence of your heart’s weakness is the corkboard with old photos in your apartment. As cheesy as it might sound, it gives you a sense of comfort.
Jungkook hums at that and pats the spot next to him with his hand. “Come lay with me.” he proposes.
“Why?” you ask, although you sit down on the bed anyway.
“Because I want you to,” he grumbles and places his palm on your stomach, pushing you to lay flat. “There you go.”
It reminds you of old days, how you used to lay down with him like that on your bed and just do nothing, simply staring at the constellations on your ceiling in silence or speaking about trivial things.
Life was much easier back then, when there was no cameras flashing around and capturing every move your best friend makes. When you were just two kids with head full of dreams and dragging on forever doing your Chemistry homework. When you were each other’s beginning and end, yin and yang, sun and moon and the starry sky above you.
It slips off your tongue eventually, what have you been meaning to ask him since the beginning of your illicit affair. And now it seems like you’ve finally reached the point of no return. “What are we, Jungkook?”
You turn your head to the side, staring at his right profile. His chiseled jawline, black lashes ghosting the skin of your cheeks. He opens his eyes slowly, focusing his sight on you but you quickly look away.
“You know damn well that we aren’t just friends anymore. Maybe we’ve never been,” You sit up straight from your position, finally gaining enough courage to face the matter. “You can’t play with my emotions like that and expect me not to catch any feelings for you. You’re confusing me so much, Jungkook. I don’t think I can go on like that any more.”
You feel his palm on the small of your back, comforting and bringing you a brief wave of solace. He follows suit, getting up from his position as well. “Look at me,” he murmurs and you jerk your head to the side. You don’t want him to see you like this again - vulnerable and exposed. “Please, ___.”
It’s his pleading voice that makes you succumb to his request. Hesitantly, you accept his touch on your cheek and meet his doe eyes, two black charcoals shining in the dim lighting of your childhood room. He has the same look in them as you saw the first time he kissed you. If the teeth worrying his bottom lip are anything to go by, you could mistake it for nervousness.
“I shouldn’t feel that way about you,” Jungkook finally says. “I shouldn’t wake up with an urge to text you because if I didn’t, my day would be incomplete. I shouldn’t picture us doing mundane things like cooking ramen in your apartment or picking you up from work,” he recites, voice laced with an emotion you can’t quite put the name on. Or maybe you do.
It’s longing.
“I shouldn’t imagine us being together because I can’t give you all of these things, ___.” Lone tear slides down your cheek and he catches it with his thumb. “I’m so, so sorry.”
You’re shaking your head, because no, he shouldn’t apologize for the world’s unfairness, for wanting to have more of you, of freedom. “Jungkook–” you start but he’s quick to interrupt you.
“I told you this before and I’m repeating it now: you deserve so much better than what I can give you, ___.”
He tries to distance himself, to back away and leave because that’s what he’s a master of but you beat him to it, extending your index finger and poking him right in the middle of his chest. “Now you listen to me, Jeon Jungkook,” you urge, not caring about your tear-strained cheeks and shaky voice. “I’m a very stubborn person, and you know that. If I wanted to leave you, I would’ve kicked you out of my apartment the day your drunk ass stormed back into my life.”
He smiles sheepishly, putting a strand of hair behind your ear. “And why didn’t you do that?” he asks, his palm not leaving your cheek.
“Because more than anything, I’ve never stopped caring about you,” It’s almost a whisper. “No matter how hurt I was, I couldn’t let you slip away from my reach again.”
And then he’s leaning even closer, lips almost touching yours yet it feels like it’s not enough. It’ll never be. “___,” he murmurs your name softly, breath smelling of champagne hot on your skin. You feel dizzy, drunk on him. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
You both know it’s a white lie, that as soon as you’re back in Seoul the reality will brutally kick you in but you let yourself for a moment indulge in this fantasy – that you’re his and he’s yours. You’re on the opposite sides of the spectrum, yet you cannot be separated.
And you need to hear him say it.
“Promise?”
Jungkook seals it with a kiss, the one that leaves you breathless and pliant in his arms, blindly reaching for him and pulling him closer with your hands on his neck. “Promise.” he whispers, eyes trained on yours.
For now, it has to be enough.
Then, as if he can’t hold himself back any longer, he dives in for more, hands finding purchase on your hips. He’s tugging you closer until you’re perched on top of his thighs, feeling the hard flesh flexing underneath your weight. It feels familiar; that funny, pulsing sensation building up in your core when he swipes his tongue over your bottom lip to meet yours. It makes you tangle your fingers in his black locks and pull, just to hear him groan into your mouth.
But there’s another pressing matter on your mind and before you can go any further, you’re pulling away from his lips with a light smack. Jungkook doesn’t take the hint though, anchoring your hips over his crotch.
“Wait,” you mumble in between kisses, biting down the moan that almost tears from your throat when he uses the grip on your body to grind down on him. “What about the party? What if parents will come home and–”
“Shhh,” He silents you with a peck on your quivery lips. “They won’t. The party has barely started. And even if they do come home, you’ll just have to be quiet, right?” Something about his tone makes you nibble on your bottom lip to suppress a whimper. He sees it, and leans down to kiss your throat. “Can you do that for me, baby?”
“Mhm,” you mewl, angling your neck to give him more access. He sucks a mark right above your sternum and it almost distracts you from asking him one more thing. “Jungkook,”
He licks a stripe up the column of your throat and looks at you, lips shining with saliva. “What is this?”
Despite the urge to kiss him stupid right here and there, you cup his cheeks and repeat the same question that led you to this very moment. “What are we?”
Jungkook looks like a living sin with his blown out pupils and disheveled hair yet his gaze is nothing less than affectionate. He brings one of your hands to his lips and places a kiss on your knuckles. “Whatever you want us to be,” he responds, sincere. “You know I never give up without trying.”
You nod, a small smile dancing on your features. “I know.”
He captures your mouth in another kiss, like he’s trying to prove his statement with actions; sucking, biting, kneading your supple flesh just right. Suddenly there’s too many clothes separating you and your fingers grip his silk shirt in faint attempt to satisfy your yearning to feel him fully.
As if reading your mind, Jungkook stops mid-decorating your neck with yet another red mark. “Get up and take off your dress for me, baby.” he says, all soft but still demanding enough to make your knees wobble. As much as you love the dominant side of him, you’re enjoying this new-found softness of his.
You comply to his request in an instant, raising from his lap to a standing position. Your fingers travel to your backside and pull the zipper down. Your dress falls on the floor with light thud, leaving you in your underwear. It’s matching but not your best pick nonetheless; simple black lace bra and cotton panties. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind though, two antsy hands gently pulling you closer to him until you’re in between his thighs.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, leaning down to press a feathery kiss on your belly. You let out a shaky sigh, trying to avert your gaze away from his burning stare but he destroys your attempt. “Don’t shy away from me now.” A squeeze to your hip is a warning. You give in, looking down just to see him smirking right back at you.
“I won’t if you take off your clothes as well.” you challenge despite your trembling voice.
He gets up, towering over your figure. “Undress me then.” Your shaky fingers reach for the buttons, opening one by one. He watches your movements attentively, lets you run your palms over his broad chest. His silky shirt joins your dress on the floor as you fumble with his belt buckle.
There’s something intimate about this moment. It’s not the first time you’re seeing each other naked yet everything feels new, unchartered. You’re exploring each other again, mapping your bodies with subtle touches and observant eyes.
Jungkook strips off his slacks, steps off his shoes along with socks. He sends you a cheeky grin. “Now we’re even.” He swallows your giggle with his mouth, not wasting any more time and pressing you against his body.
You moan when you feel his erection touching your hip. He uses it as an opportunity to slither his tongue inside, each experienced lick making it hard for you to follow his tempo. You go lax in his hold, letting him snap your bra open. He maneuvers your body until you’re laying on your back and he’s straddling your waist.
“So pretty,” he marvels, palms caressing your breasts. Your nipples harden under his ministrations, breathy moan escaping your lips when he pinches them. “Such a pretty baby.” he repeats, lost in touching every part of you he can reach.
Jungkook peppers kisses on your belly, hands travelling to your thighs. He leans to kiss you on your panty-clad mound. You mewl at the sensation, unconsciously sliding your legs wide open and giving him more access to your center. “Can I eat you out?” he asks, continuing mouthing over your pussy. When you don’t answer him in time, he slaps your thigh in reprimand. ‘’Hmm?”
“Please,” you whimper, mind send into overdrive. Minho rarely went down on you and you almost forgot how good it feels to have someone’s mouth on you.
Jungkook grasps your underwear and pulls it down your legs, revealing your dripping pussy to his hungry eyes. His breath tickles your folds, sheets grasped tightly between your fingers. Jungkook kitten-licks your pulsing clit, eyes trained on your face to see every small reaction he emits from you.
“Jungkook,” you keen, hips rising to chase after his mouth.
He nibbles on your thigh playfully, flashing you a sly smile. “What do you want, doll?”
It’s the ‘doll’ that makes you whine pitifully at him. He relishes in it, sucking your clit into his mouth as an apology for his teasing. You whimper, “Please, I want more. Give me more.”
‘’Demanding, are we?” he snorts but complies anyway. No matter how much he loves hearing you beg, he enjoys eating you out more. He covers you your pussy with his mouth, tongue swiping over your sensitive numb. He licks up clean your soaking slit, not missing a single drop of your pearly arousal.
He groans at the taste and throws your legs over his shoulders. He pulls you even closer to him until his face is burried between thighs. Your fingers wander to his hair on their own accord, threading into his silky strands. After a harsh suck he abuses your clit with, you pull. It spurs him on even more, a groan mouthed against your pussy causing even more slick to drip down your opening.
“Tell me how good it feels.” he mumbles, glancing up at your face. You focus your sight on him, his chin is shining with translucent substance, hair tangled and sweaty against his forehead.
“So good,” you mewl.
“Yeah? That good?” Jungkook asks, tone almost mocking. You’re now only nodding in response, your cunt pulsing with a need to release. “Can you cum for me like this, baby?” he mouths along your folds.
“Please, please,” You’re nearly crying, tears pricking in the corners because the pleasure is too much to bear. Your clit throbs, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Oh my god–Kook!”
“Good girl,” He rewards you with two slender fingers pushing inside your pussy, searching for that one stop that makes your insides flutter. “My pretty baby, tastes so sweet for me.” he rasps before licking a stripe up your cunt.
His digits slide even deeper into you. It sounds sinfully wet but you don’t care, accepting whatever he gives you. And give does he, plunging his fingers repeatedly inside and flicking his tongue against your bud – a perfect symphony to finally send you over the edge.
“There you go,” he murmurs, feeling your walls tightening around his fingers. More juices leak out of your hole and he drinks them up eagerly. “My pretty girl doing so good for me.”
He prolongs your orgasm until you stop him with a breathy whimper of, “’m sensitive.”
Jungkook gets up to hover over your shaking body. He opens your mouth with a deep, wet kiss. You taste your arousal on his tongue, feeling no longer foreign and eliciting a moan out of you. His length presses against your hip, hard and straining his briefs. With a surge of boldness you reach down, rolling his underwear off his body. His cock slaps against his abdomen, curved tip leaking precum.
Nibbling on your bottom lip you watch as his hand encloses around his member, giving it a few pumps. He groans, head thrown back. Your eyes focus on the sweat dripping down his sculpted body all the way from his neck down his chest. Jungkook is a sight for sore eyes– slim waist, toned thighs. Everything about him is mesmerizing.
He settles between your legs, cock prodding at your folds. “You sure?” he asks, searching for your eyes.
You don’t answer him verbally this time and he doesn’t press about it. Instead you open your legs even wider, a small smile dancing on your features as you nod. You’re welcoming the stretch with a drawn out moan. He pushes himself inside slowly, until he’s flushed against your pelvis, his neatly trimmed pubic hair tickling your skin.
“Fuck,” he curses, hands coming up to grip your sides so tightly you’re sure they’ll leave fingertip bruises. “You’re so perfect, baby. Made for me.” He leans to press a kiss on your mouth, tongue lazily lacing with yours. It’s messy, saliva trickling down your chin but you don’t care, reciprocating with vigor.
Jungkook pulls away and places one last peck on your cheek. “Ready?” he murmurs.
You couldn’t be more than. “Ready.”
He picks up the pace, blindly reaching for your legs to make you encircle his waist. You’ve never fucked in this position before, with him so close to your face you could practically taste the sweat dripping off his body on your lips. He relishes in having you like this, palms caressing every square inch of your flesh.
‘’God, I missed having you like this, doll,” he grunts. He props his hand next to your head and it gives him leverage to hammer himself faster into your cunt. “Do you like how I’m fucking you?” he asks and you keen in response. He doesn’t seem to be satisfy with your reaction. “Too fucked out to speak?” You hear him chuckling evily into your ear.
“Shit, Jungkook,” you whimper, throwing your hands over his neck. His skin his hot and slippery under your touch. He rams himself even harder into you, hips never losing the rhythm. You feel the pressure building up in your abdomen already, reducing you to mewling mess underneath him. “I-I love it. So, so much.” you stammer out.
“Yeah?” he prompts, fingers slipping down your belly to toy with your clit. “Love how my cock is fucking you?”
“Yes, yes–fuck,” you chant. “So good.”
He loses himself in you, in the way how tight you feel around his cock. He tells you this, spits filthy obscenities into your ear and punctuates it with deep strokes inside you. He wants to have you like this forever, keep you to himself and hide from the whole world.
It’s selfish of him to think that way but he can’t help it, not when you’re moaning so pretty when he tightens his grip on your waist and rails you harder into the mattress. Not when you’re there when he needs you, when you’re his lifeboat bringing him back to the land (sanity).
He wants to see you smile for him, because of him. Wants to call you his. And that’s what he asks you to, begs in stranded voice. “Say you’re mine,” You’re shaking your head, tears threatening to spill from your eyes but he needs to hear you say it even if it’ll be just this once. “Please, tell me you’re mine, ___.”
Your whole body shudders from pleasure. You open your quivery lips but nothing comes out of it except for a broken whimper of his name. “J-jungkook–”
“Please,” he pleads once again, entangling your hands from around his neck and pinning them over your head instead. “Say nobody will ever make you feel this way. Fuck you until you cry,” he continues, fingers circling your nub with ferocity. “Fucking say it!”
You sob, pleasure rippling through your body and throwing you off the edge. “I’m yours,” you whisper hoarsly, staring into his dark orbs. “Yours, yours, yours!” you repeat, creaming his cock with your release.
“Fuck,” Jungkook groans and you don’t know it’s because of your confession or your walls constracting around his member. Maybe it’s the mixture of both. “You’re mine just like I’m yours.” he spits as the orgasm approaches him, shuddering through his whole body. He comes with a call of your name, spilling himself inside.
You whimper at the sensation, your arousal mixing with his and dripping from your hole. Jungkook lets go of your wrists, pressing a peck on each of them. His palm cups your cheek and he leans down to kiss you. It’s lazy, your mouths barely moving but it feels good anyway.
He’s in the middle of pulling his softening cock out of your core when you hear your mum’s voice.
“___, honey, are you here?” She’s downstairs, approximately forty-five seconds from reaching your room.
Jungkook sends you a panicked look. “Go lock my door!” you hiss.
He obliges quickly, naked butt jogging across the room to twist the key. You can’t help but giggle as he tiptoes to the bed again. He puts a hand over your mouth and murmurs, “Shhh, be quiet.”
Your mum’s heels clink on the stairs. Few seconds later she’s knocking on your door. “___, are you there?” she asks. You’re praying she won’t twist the handle because in that case you’ll have a lot of awkward explaining to do. Fortunately, she gives up. “I guess they went for a walk.”
By ‘they’ she means you and Jungkook who’s currently stifling a laugh against your shoulder. “Well, maybe not for a walk but something equally energy-draining.” he whispers. You elbow him in the stomach, making him chuckle even harder.
When you hear the door to your house closing, you let out a breath of relief. “I knew fucking in my childhood bedroom wasn’t a good idea.”
Jungkook smirks. “You sure about that?” he teases, squeezing your hip. It makes you roll your eyes but you don’t hide the smile on your face afterwards anyway.
Jungkook reaches for your panties and rolls you onto your back, carefully cleaning you up and then himself. He tucks you beneath the covers, encircling your body with his arm. You relish in the heat radiating of him, pressing your cheek right where his heart beats.
“You’ve never told me what would be my biography’s title.” Jungkook says after a moment.
You smile to yourself, fingertips drawing patterns on his skin absentmindedly. “I’d call it ‘Lost Star’.” you answer.
“Because I’m a troublesome celebrity?” he chuckles and you shake your head.
“Well, of course you can interpret it like that but for me it has more of a metaphorical sense,” you explain. “You’re a star, like those on the sky, which got lost and came to Earth instead. That’s why you’re so special. Because you’re out of this world.”
“I’m no special,” Jungkook grumbles, pouting.
You sit up from your position to look him in the eyes. “You’re wrong, Jeon Jungkook. And I think I’m not the only person who thinks the same,” you urge. He meets your gaze and you realise how young he looks right now. Young and boyish. “You make thousands of people smile because of your music. That’s a special ability to me.”
He flashes you a small smile. “I’ve never thanked you for believing in me from the very beginning.” he says, cupping your cheek in his palm.
“Always.”
You drift off to sleep with his voice humming softly in your ears.
[4 months later]
“Bangtan Sonyeondan are currently at the Incheon International Airport, leaving for their upcoming world tour. Their first show will be held this Saturday in Los Angeles and–”
You walk into the living room and sit on the sofa, staring at the pictures Korean press took of Jungkook and his bandmates while they were departing to US. They are dressed in their casual clothing and you know the fans are going to freak out seeing Jungkook’s hair has gotten long enough to tie it in a man bun. You’re almost sure the news have already spread on Twitter.
The TV is too big for your liking but Jungkook insisted on buying it anyway. You can almost see the pimple on his cheek he woke up with this morning. It makes you smile involuntarily.
Rest of the design in his–now yours as well– apartment was mainly your idea. He bought it without telling you because he knew you would freak out. And you did, obviously, call him crazy. But he didn’t mind. Told you he needed a space for himself for a very long time and now he has someone to share it with.
The house feels empty without him. It’s too spacious for one person and when he’s not around, you feel like intruder. But you’ve put on your big girl shoes this morning after a passionate round of love making and teary-eyed goodbyes. You won’t slip them off until he will come home to you in two months.
He promised he would show you Paris and London. You know he will keep that promise, although you aren’t sure you’ll be able to make it with your new job. After breaking up with Minho, Jungkook encouraged you to try sending your drafts to different publishing companies. And one of them responded positively.
You check your phone–your smiling face meeting you on the lockscreen. Jungkook’s smooching your cheek, but prying eyes wouldn’t be able to tell it’s him from that angle. His last text message is from fifteen minutes ago.
[5:55pm] jungkook:
We’re departing in 20 minutes
I’m missing you already so much:(
You reply, although he’s probably fast asleep like he always does during flying.
[6:01pm] me:
Miss u too!!
And you mean it. You’re missing him when he’s at his dance practice, when he’s in the studio. But it has to be enough for now.
The dates he takes you for have to be in the confines of your apartment. You can’t go for a walk and hold his hand or kiss him in public. He said you needed to wait for the tour to end to discuss publicly announcing your relationship. You’re wondering what’s better: forever hiding or being judged for every step you take.
You’re a strong girl, he once told you. And you’ll continue being one. For the two teenagres on the beach smiling to the camera in the framed photo next to your TV.
However long it takes.
#jungkook smut#btswritingcafe#ksmutclub#bangtanarmynet#smutcentralnet#maknaesmutsociety#bangtanhq#btsbookclub#btswriterscollective#jungkook angst#bts smut#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#jungkook fanfic#my writing#lost stars
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I Promise (Part 2/2)
Pairing: Chris Beck x Reader
Word Count: 4722
Warnings: fluff, light angst, pregnancy
Summary: Before heading to Mars Chris Beck reconnects with his best friend, unaware of the outcome of their night together. With the burden of his mission will Chris make a promise he can’t keep?
A/N: A big thank you to my love Allie @all1e23 for beta reading 🍕❤️ gif source (x)
PART 1
In the months that passed Chris had been able to keep up on email with a bit more regularity though it still took some time in between messages. Video calls were less frequent but you still had them. You stood back from your laptop and faced sideways, lifting your shirt to reveal the protrusion of your growing belly.
His smile was bittersweet, wishing he could be there in person to watch you grow, to feel when the baby starts kicking. You were having a boy and decided to name him Oliver. After you first spoke Chris waited for you to tell your family first before he told his over email, and you followed up with a visit to see them.
His parents, Michael and Lori, were so happy to see you again. They always knew you and Chris were close but now with a grandchild on the way they were thrilled. Along with your parents they offered help immediately, everyone overwhelming you with to-do lists and essential shopping you hadn’t thought about at that point.
“My dad’s going to help make the storage room a nursery.”
Your apartment was technically a one bedroom but there was a small room adjacent to yours you’ve been using as extra space to hold anything random you couldn’t find a spot for anywhere else. It was on the narrow side and currently overcrowded with junk, not the most picturesque nursery but it would have to do for now, as soon as you get rid of things to make space.
“I wish I was there to help you,” he sighed, not speaking solely about helping you clean. “We’ll be descending for Mars soon so I won’t be able to keep in touch until we get back on the Hermes.”
You understood. Chris would be there for about a month and you assumed it would take a little longer to hear back from him once they got back on board to begin their journey back.
It was an unassuming morning at home. You were trying to find a comfortable position on your couch, adjusting the cushion you bought for extra support. You’re tired, finding it harder to fall asleep comfortably with a bigger belly. At 24 weeks your baby was apparently practicing to be a soccer player, his kicks growing stronger every day. You loved this part of pregnancy but you also couldn’t deny how terrible you felt. Your feet started swelling, your skin was itchy and you thought you were going crazy every time you tried to read but the words were blurring. Changes were expected but not in the way you always thought.
A news report breaks on TV, a red banner that flashes words that have your heart beating rapidly – ARES III ASTRONAUTS COMING HOME. Tears flood your eyes as you hear the news, Mark Watney is dead. Nausea washes over your body in waves and you clutch your stomach, forgetting to breathe until you hear that Chris was safe. You exhale with relief though your heart aches for the crew and Mark’s family. You rubbed your belly in gentle circles, speaking softly to let Oliver know that Daddy was alright and he was coming home.
It was late December when Chris finally had a chance to call you. Tears glisten in his eyes as he sees you, thanking you for the picture you emailed him from your latest sonogram. The 3D technology showed a clear picture of Oliver’s sweet face and Chris longed to meet him. Your belly had grown as well, with less than three months to go before your due date.
The nursery was complete and you really owed a lot to your family and Chris’ for helping it come together. Chloe arranged a baby shower which helped fill the nursery with everything you needed, from drawers full of diapers to a wardrobe of clothes, a lot of space themed outfits you couldn’t wait to send Chris pictures of.
Though you were overjoyed at everyone being there it was hard to keep up a smile. Everyone knew the situation and there was no way getting around the fact that he wouldn’t be home for another year. Still you pushed on and tried not to dwell on what you couldn’t change.
“Wow,” Chris marveled as you showed him your bump. “You’re so much bigger since I last saw you.” The flat, unamused expression you shot Chris made him quickly stutter on his words. “I meant your bump, it’s… you look beautiful, I promise.” You smiled a little, trusting him even if you didn’t quite believe it all the time.
Catching up came to a halt when Chris began to open up about what happened. You knew it was coming. It was ubiquitous in the news cycle but hearing it from Chris directly made your stomach churn. You wished you could be there, to wipe away his tears and hold him close as he mourned for his friend. You wished even more that you could tell him the truth… Mark was alive.
You received communication from NASA just before the public learned about it though you were specifically instructed not to tell Chris about the information. According to them the crew needed to focus on their mission home and honestly you thought it was a bunch of bullshit. You felt nauseous the whole time speaking to Chris, trying to hide the truth you so desperately wanted to tell him. Lying was not something you and Chris ever did to each other and every second you held your tongue felt like you were betraying all the years of your friendship.
When the call ended you shut your laptop, hanging your head low and breaking down into tears. It was a deep, messy faced cry with guttural sobs. You were crying for everything. For Mark, mistakenly left to die on a planet of isolation, for Chris and lying to his face, for Oliver who can’t have his father around like you wanted him to be.
As time went on you felt better, emailing and speaking to Chris whenever he could. It’s February and your heart feels lighter as you await the video connection. You try not to get sentimental with Valentine’s Day having just passed. You and Chris are not anything officially, just two adults who have known each other their whole lives having a baby… but the idea doesn’t scare you.
You think back to your thirtieth birthday and what would have happened if you were single. Would Chris have mentioned the promise? It’s a silly thought. He was so busy with his career he probably wouldn’t have gone through with it but you can’t help thinking about the “what if.” And now you were single, single and pregnant with his child, so what if…
Your thoughts are cut off immediately when you actually see Chris. His eyes were rimmed red, eyes glistening with tears that made the tiny red veins scattered across the whites of his eyes look like they were bleeding.
“Mark is alive,” his voice shuddered through a heaving sob.
Your mouth dropped open as you listened in shock. How does he know?
Chris rubbed his nose with the back of his hand, eyes squeezing tight as he exhaled another heavy sigh. “I’m the one that called it, did you know that? I told Commander Lewis he was dead and they knew…”
His words dropped, his voice failing to speak but Chris’ grief turned to anger just as quickly. “They knew… they knew for two goddamn months that he was alive! Do you know how that feels?”
Your heart was breaking for him even more and there was nothing you could do but offer words of comfort as he vented. “Chris I’m so sorry. Who told you?”
“Mitch Henderson, our flight director, he– wait.” Chris’ body stiffened, eyes narrowing at the screen. “What do you mean who? Did… did you know?”
You dropped your head in shame, unable to answer him in words.
“You knew? Y/N look at me!” he shouted.
Your head snapped up to see Chris’ nostrils flaring, jaw clenched tight. “You knew my friend was alive and you didn’t tell me?” he grit through his teeth, anger burning hotter than the sun.
“I’m sorry Chris, I couldn’t.”
He scoffed, cutting off your explanation. His tone raised to a level he’s never taken with you before. “You couldn’t what, Y/N? You looked me in the eye and lied to me about everything!”
Though Chris may have been justified in his anger it shouldn't have been directed at you. Just as quickly you retorted, “I’m not the only one Chris! Everyone knows, your parents, Chloe; this isn’t on me. NASA told us not to say anything to distract you.”
“Oh but telling me you’re pregnant wasn’t a distraction?” he snapped.
Chris knew he made a mistake but it was too late, the words came out and he couldn’t take them back. He watched you sink in your chair, your lips beginning to quiver. You dropped your head down to hide the tears but he could see them leaving wet puddles on the fabric of your shirt.
He was upset, feeling guilty about leaving Mark stranded even though he knows there was nothing he could have done. His biometer was damaged, he thought… they all thought he was dead and if they didn’t leave they’d all have died too. There was nothing he could do to change the past but this isn’t what he wanted.
Chris was angry and frustrated with everything. He wanted his friend to be safe on the Hermes, he wanted this mission to be over, he wanted… to be with you. You were due in three weeks and the closer the date got the more he hated being up in space when all he wanted was to be by your side.
“Y/N… Y/N please… I’m sorry,” he sniffled, wiping away fresh tears that began to fall. “I didn’t mean to take this out on you… please…”
Tears still fell as you lifted your head slowly towards the screen to find Chris looking just as upset as you were. You cleared your throat, wiping the wetness away from your cheek as you spoke, “If you don’t want to do this–”
“No!” he cut you off immediately, “Y/N please, I was wrong. I was upset and I didn’t mean that. I want this more than anything. I’m sorry.”
The sincerity was clear in the depths of his eyes, staring at you as if he was unworthy of your gaze. You took a moment to think of what he’s going through; the world had time to process everything that was happening with Mark but for Chris this was new and upsetting and you understood.
“I’m sorry too. I never wanted to lie to you.”
“Stop, you don’t have to apologize, I was an asshole.” Chris immediately stops your protests and you let him, feeling yourself smile again the longer you continue to speak. “I miss you a lot, do you know that?” His smile returned as he spoke, asking how you were feeling with your upcoming due date.
Your smile stretches wider across your face. “I miss you too. I’m…” The smile curbs a bit as you let out a sigh. “I’m nervous honestly, excited but scared I guess, I don’t know. I know it’s unrealistic and maybe even a bit selfish to say but I feel like if you were here I’d be a lot better.”
He apologizes again though you find yourself doing the same, not meaning to add to the guilt he already lives with. “I wish I could be there but I know you’re going to get through it, and Oliver already has the best mom in the world.”
Your mouth gasped open and you placed your hand on your bump. “He just kicked when you said that, I’m not even kidding!”
“See, it’s true,” he grinned widely.
There was a faint noise in the background and you saw Chris looking off to the side. When he turned back to face the screen you could tell by the tension in his face that he was needed for something.
“I have to go now, but… I love you Y/N.”
Though you’ve heard those words so many times before and have spoken them yourself, this time they felt different. You wondered if he meant to put that new emotion behind it and if you felt the same.
There wasn’t much time to ponder these thoughts as two weeks later you were in the hospital, with your mom and Chloe by your side getting you through labor. It was an excruciating ordeal with contractions that were so intense you were in tears. They helped you breathe through them, letting you squeeze their hands as you received an epidural and finally a few hours later it was time to push. Chloe recorded the birth over your shoulder for Chris and with a strangled cry Oliver came into the world.
Tears of joy ran down your cheeks as you held him against you. He was beautiful and you could see so much of Chris in him already. A bittersweet sob wracked through you, wishing he was there.
Chris called the whole crew in to see photos of Oliver as he opened his email. There were a ton, his family making sure they took pictures from every angle. There were close ups of his little toes, pictures of him sleeping and Chris’ favorites of you holding him.
“Congratulations Beck!” “Welcome to fatherhood.” “He’s beautiful.”
Chris saved some things for himself like Oliver’s birth and a special message you sent him. The phone was held out in front of you, the unforgiving hospital lights showing off how tired you looked but to Chris you were beautiful and shining as bright as the stars.
“We did it.” Your voice was soft and strained, but you still pushed on to speak to him. The camera flipped towards the bassinet beside your bed with Oliver sleeping peacefully. “Say hi to Daddy,” you whispered softly. There were a few moments of silence watching him sleep, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft giggle as Oliver’s mouth twitched. “I can’t wait for you to meet him Chris,” the camera flipped around again, “I know you’re going to be an amazing father. I love you so much.”
When the video ended Chris couldn’t help but kiss the screen, wishing it was your lips that his were pressed against. He’s eagerly counting the days and soon enough he would be.
Chris sat uncomfortably in his chair, elbow resting on the glossy white table as his hand covers his mouth, hiding the worry and tension of his lips. He feels like he swallowed a bag of rocks, his stomach is tense and tight, cramping in all the worst ways. He tried to hide it, shifting in his chair as he listens to his Commander lay out a plan to save Mark.
It goes directly against NASA’s orders and he’s not sure what the consequences would be for mutiny but he doesn’t care about that, not if it means they can rescue their friend.
“...If we do everything perfectly we add 533 days to our mission, 533 more days before we see our families again, 533 days of unplanned space travel where anything could go wrong.. If it’s mission critical, we die.”
He shifts again, his stomach twisting in all directions as he ponders what to do. He missed your pregnancy, Oliver’s birth. He could be home in six months and his heart swells at the thought. He is ready to happily spend his nights changing diapers and preparing bottles, bonding with his son and allowing you the sleep you need.
Chris’ shoulders slump. He doesn’t know much about fatherhood but he does know he wants to be someone Oliver could look up to and he wouldn’t be that person if he didn’t stay true to his heart and make a tough decision.
“Well, it has to be unanimous,” Commander Lewis said, scanning her head to lock eyes with each member of the crew.
It would be another year and a half before Chris saw you and Oliver and the thought hurts him deeply but he knows it’s for the best. “Let’s go get him,” he said, his voice wavering between excitement and trepidation. He knew this was right and he hoped you would believe him.
Once the Hermes corrected their course it was official and NASA knew they would have to send them the resupply probe for their extended mission. Now all Chris had to do was tell you.
It was hard to watch the tears stream down your face as you broke down, you weren’t even able to wipe them with Oliver sleeping in your arms. Chris is crying too, looking at the sweet face of the son he has to wait even longer to meet. You know why he’s doing this and you can’t exactly be mad at him. Even growing up Chris was always the person to do the right thing no matter the consequence.
“Y/N… if anything happens…”
“No!” you cut him off, letting out your anguish as softly as you could so you didn’t disturb Oliver. “Chris, don’t say that.” Your eyes pleaded with him, hating that he made you even consider the worst.
“Please, if anything happens I want you to know that you and Oliver…” His voice gives out, even Chris has a hard time accepting a very possible reality. “I made sure you’ll be taken care of.”
He stared straight through you and you understood what he meant. Adjusting your grip on Oliver, you quickly wiped the wetness from your cheek and rubbed at your nose. “You have to come back to us, promise me.”
“I promise,” he replied with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He wants to keep his promise but it’s not something he can guarantee. Oliver stirs in your arms, his face twisting as he lets out a piercing cry as if he also knew the stakes at hand.
You soothe your son as best as you could, feeling he needed a diaper change. Before saying goodbye you looked into Chris’ eyes through the screen, wishing you could reach out and cup his cheek as you proclaimed, “I love you, Chris.” You meant every word, more than ever before.
His cheeks pulled into a warm smile as he said it back. The screen goes dark and he sits quietly starting his countdown over for the day he can say it to you again in person.
A year has passed and you’re sitting on the floor with Oliver in your lap, holding a book out in front of you. This was your nightly routine before bed, letting him pick out a story from his little shelf against the wall and reading it together. He was very interested at this age, helping you turn the pages or pointing at the pictures that you would describe and try to get him to repeat.
He’s grown so much and every day you find more ways he looks like Chris, especially when he scrunches his nose, putting up a fuss when eating bananas.
Oliver’s first birthday was two months ago, it was a small party at Chris’ parents house filled with cake and presents but the best gift was that Chris was able to call in. You cried immediately, holding Oliver up to the screen and pointing at Chris. “Dada! Look Oliver it’s Dada!”
There were pictures of Chris in your house and every time you passed them you would show Oliver, hoping the connection would eventually sink in. Oliver grinned at the screen showing off four tiny teeth in the center of his smile. “Oliver it’s Daddy!” Chris said, waving his hands. “Hey buddy. I love you Oliver. I’ll see you soon.”
It didn’t feel real that Chris was actually coming home this year since he’s been gone for so long. You’ve been keeping in touch, emailing him as many pictures and videos of Oliver as you could. Everyone loved the professional shots taken when he was six months old, dressed in pajamas printed with planets on them, holding a bottle shaped like a spaceship. In others he was dressed as an astronaut tethered to a bright and colorful rocketship laying against a starry background made to look like he was floating in space, just like his Dad.
With Oliver in bed you went to the kitchen to make yourself something to eat though you could barely focus. You were on edge, watching the live stream of Mark Watney’s rescue on your phone.
Your head lifted to the TV as you waited like the rest of the world, watching the rescue in real time. It took an hour before there was confirmation that Mark was safely on board and the relief brought tears to your eyes. The whole world was celebrating and you couldn’t imagine how happy Chris and his crew were to get him back and soon enough Chris would be home too.
While some people were opening up presents on Christmas morning you were opening suitcases and getting ready to pack things for yourself and Oliver to fly to Houston to see Chris. The crew landed two days ago and seeing footage of him being pulled from the capsule brought tears to your eyes. You pointed to the screen for Oliver, “Who’s that? That’s…”
His face lit up, his little hand slapping at the screen as his squeaky voice said, “It’s Daddy!”
“That’s right. Good job!” you beamed, planting a kiss to his soft cheek.
Oliver did a lot of growing up in the last year. He was a few months shy of two, a little ball of energy that brought smiles everywhere he went. He was playful and kind, he loved to splash bubbles during bathtime, and wiggle his body to music.
Chris was able to see his emerging personality whenever you spoke to each other. Oliver was shy at first and a little confused, looking back at you instead of the screen as Chris was trying to talk to him. It took a lot of patience but you got there, pointing at Chris and saying “It’s Daddy!” enough times for Oliver to finally recognize him. Chris would smile and wave, calling him his little buddy and Oliver waved back. He was hesitant at first but regular video calls normalized their relationship and soon Oliver would press his lips to your laptop, leaving a big wet kiss on the screen meant for his Dad.
It was hard knowing Chris was back on Earth but you couldn't see him yet. He was undergoing physical evaluations and you were certain more testing would be necessary in the future considering he and the Ares III crew have set a record, spending nearly three times the amount in space than ever before. You chuckled to yourself, knowing Chris would probably want to take on the study himself although part of you knew he was more anxious to spend time with you and Oliver, a thought that made your heart swell.
A week later and you were at the Johnson Space Center, in a waiting room meant for the family of returning astronauts. Oliver is playing with Aunt “Coey” as he called her, holding his spacecraft toy and making it fly above armrests of the row of blue chairs you’re so tired of staring at. Whenever you heard noise in the hallway you quickly rushed towards Oliver, brushing his hair in place with your hands and adjusting the bottom of his striped blue shirt.
This time you were right to be prepared as a man opened the door. You all scrambled to stand up, holding Oliver in front of you with your hands on his shoulders. The man nodded, giving a quick smile and suddenly you felt overcome with nerves. After two and a half years you were finally about to see Chris again and your heart was beating wildly. You tried to steady your breaths, holding a nervous smile as you waited for him to walk through the door.
The moment he did you were overcome with emotion, bursting out with tears of joy, a smile stretching from ear to ear. He was here, he was actually here. Chris had a smile that beamed as bright as the stars, his eyes glistening with tears as he looked at you and Oliver who had grown restless of standing and made his way into his grandpa’s arms.
Chris walked unsteadily towards you, thinking Oliver could probably walk better than he can at the moment as he was still adjusting to gravity. You ran forward meeting him more than halfway, throwing your arms around him for a crushing hug. As you cried against his chest your own legs nearly gave out when you felt his arms around you.
“I missed you so much,” you muffled against his shirt, pulling yourself back to stare into his eyes once more.
“I love you,” he said, a clear admission of the feelings in his heart, no longer meant with platonic innocence.
You were always close and while the two of you never saw each other as anything but friends it certainly surprised everyone around you when you didn’t end up together. Things were different now and you both felt the shift in your relationship since he’s been away. It was more than the bond you had by having a child together; Chris always had a place in your heart and you wondered why it took this long to see it.
“I love you too,” you cried again, feeling the relief of his lips against yours as they pressed together for a sweet and long overdue kiss.
Lori kissed her son, hugging him quickly as did Chloe who was eager to record Chris and Oliver’s first official introduction on her phone. Michael placed him down and you kneeled beside Oliver. Chris eased himself down, feeling his heart pounding like a drum in his ears. In the last few years he’s been through countless stressful situations, none of which were more nerve wracking than meeting his son for the first time.
There’s a nervous look on Oliver’s face as a room full of people are all watching him and he turns to look at you, his eyes pleading for help. You reassured him that everything was okay and like the many times you’ve done in the past you pointed towards Chris. Your voice wavered as the words you spoke bubbled out of your throat, “Oliver, this is your Daddy.”
Chris smiled softly, keeping a short distance between himself and Oliver because he didn’t want to overwhelm him. It was clear Oliver was unsure of what to do, looking back and forth between you and Chris.
“Hey buddy, it’s me. I’m your Daddy,” Chris said and finally Oliver’s face lit up with recognition.
He grinned, waving to Chris in front of him as they had done through the screen so many times before. With a proud smile Oliver picked up the hem of his shirt, exposing his tummy and strung together a sentence of mostly recognizable words that meant, “I have a belly button!”
A tear squeezed out from the corner of Chris’ eyes as he laughed, “Yeah you do buddy!”
The ice was broken between them and Chris looked over his shoulder at someone who discreetly handed him something behind his back.
“I’m so happy to meet you Oliver. This is for you,” Chris said, handing over a teddy bear dressed as an astronaut.
He jumped as he took the bear, squeezing it in his arms with the happiest smile. With some encouragement you had him thank Chris and Oliver pursed his lips forward to kiss Chris’ cheek. Oliver let Chris hug him and he smiled through his tears, finally experiencing what he’s been imagining for years, holding his son in his arms.
Chris thought his days among the stars were over but together with you and Oliver he’s surrounded by a whole galaxy of love. Each day shines brighter than the last and Chris has no doubt that one day soon he will finally keep his promise.
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the star puzzle
summary: based on 5x13 (bc long hair reid rights) in which emily tells a funny little story and spencer is the sweetest know-it-all :’) (spencer x fem!reader)
word count: 1.7k
author’s note: i haven’t written for fun in the hottest second and im embarrassed so pls don’t roast!!! also trying my hand at romance is scary ahahaha how do yall do this
Emily’s nose wrinkled slightly.
Damn puzzle.
She fidgeted with two wooden pieces, and the sounds of them dully clinking against each other drew the attention of a certain doctor. With squinted eyes, he observed her fumbling for a moment before muttering a quick, “What is that?”
“It’s called a star puzzle. It’s basically impossible to figure out.” The resignation was clear in her tone. She’d been trying to put together this unbelievably frustrating puzzle for the past fifteen minutes, and she felt further from figuring it out than when she began. Utterly infuriating. “You have to put all of the pieces back together to form a perfect star. But the origin of it is kinda a romantic tale.”
Your ear perked up a bit, your interest thoroughly piqued. Always a sucker for a little romance, a small grin tugged at your lips as you quietly tucked the corner of your page down and shut your book. Ms. Austen could wait a little longer. Perhaps love stories were for the naive, but who were you to deny yourself the small rush of joy of hearing about two people fall in love? Your eyes flickered towards Spencer for the briefest of moments, and your smile widened ever so slightly. I wouldn’t mind falling in love with him. As if that process wasn’t already well underway. So you settled further in your seat on the couch to listen to Emily.
“There was this young prince who wanted to win the heart of the fairest maiden in the land.”
At this, Spencer’s heart skipped, and he spared a fleeting glance to his right at the girl on the couch who had the most endearing smile on her face as she intently watched Emily. The fairest maiden in all the land, he thought as his cheeks flushed slightly. He was quite familiar with the prince’s endeavors.
“So he climbed to the top of the tallest tower in the kingdom, and he caught a falling star for her. Unfortunately, he was so excited, that he dropped it, and it smashed into all of these pieces. So he frantically put it back together to prove his undying love to her, and he succeeded, and they lived happily ever after.”
A moment of silence and a furrowed brow.
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
Emily narrowed her eyes at him. “What do you mean?”
“You can’t catch a falling star. It would burn up in the atmosphere.” You could almost hear the cogs in the poor boy’s head turning as he tried to grasp the meaning of her words. Amusement danced across Rossi’s features as he shared a knowing look with Emily.
“Yeah, but it’s not literal, Reid. It’s a fable.”
“But there’s no moral. Fables have morals.” You ducked your head in an attempt to suppress the laugh bubbling in your chest and the blush painting your cheeks. As always, you were fascinated by the mechanisms of Dr. Reid’s mind. And by the look of confusion on his face, a look that only made you more smitten which you had thought was an impossible task by now.
“Okay so it’s just a romantic little story—the point is it’s basically impossible to do because you have to take all of those pieces and fit them together exactly….” She trailed off, watching him easily fit together the pieces she’d been agonizing over for far too long. His nimble fingers were purposeful in their task and within seconds, produced the desired star. Emily’s jaw dropped. That little son of a—
For a moment, he looked at the star, reveling in his success with a somewhat smug smirk (he loved solving puzzles), before a thought popped into his head. Turning his gaze to the right, he caught your eye as you gawked at the puzzle. He gave you that signature tight-lipped smile that made your heart swell and wordlessly offered you the star.
Your breath caught, and for some reason, you couldn’t look away, and neither could he. So you both sat there in this little moment of stillness on the edge of revelation. This felt so much bigger than one friend offering another a look at a stupid little puzzle, but there was that underlying current of fear, of ‘we both want this so, so much, but neither of us can say that this means more because what if they don’t feel the same way.’ Hesitation had locked you in place, but screw it. A little breathless and a lot of warmth buzzing in your chest, you finally recovered your expression from your previous look of utter amazement and took the star.
You took the star.
Spencer thought he could still hear the air humming from that second-long moment that felt like a freaking hour, and his fingers were buzzing from where yours had brushed his for the most minuscule of moments, he couldn’t stop the smile that split his face wide open. He didn’t know if you took it to look at his handiwork, or to give your approval, or to accept this profession of his undying love for you, but whatever it meant, you took the star, and that was enough for now.
Staring down at the wooden puzzle in your hands, you focused so intensely because you needed a moment to recover from whatever the hell just happened. Maybe you blacked out for a minute and were in heaven for the entirety of three seconds, or maybe you’ve watched When Harry Met Sally too many times to not have a skewed perception of romance and friendship, but he had to have felt that, right? There was no way he didn’t have his world turned upside down by that incredibly small interaction—or maybe you’re just way too in love with him to be judging things correctly. Either way, you’re somewhat surprised the star hasn’t completely burst into flames under the intensity of your stare, and you try to grapple with what just happened and what comes next.
“Not too shabby, Dr. Reid.” It comes out as the ghost of a whisper because you’re not sure you could have managed any more than that. The smoldering remains of your previous grin haunt your lips as you finally summon the courage to meet his eyes again.
He’s beaming.
“Why, thank you, Miss (Y/L/N).”
And you can’t help but mirror him.
Wide eyes and the most knowing smirks you’ve ever seen are silently flying around the jet as the others look at each other to confirm, are you seeing this? It’s been extremely apparent, the burgeoning crushes between the two youngest members, and this is just the icing on the freaking cake. Dear Morgan is just bursting at the seams, knowing that the next moment he gets the good doctor alone, he will be teasing him to the highest heaven. Maybe Reid’s new nickname will be ‘young prince.’ Morgan is sure he will love that (he won’t). And poor, poor Garcia, gripping her knitting needles so tightly that they might be pulverized, cannot even slightly suppress the glowing of her heart as she watches her two most favorite people fall even more in love, and by God, if she’s not going to do something about it. What she’s going to do, she’s not quite sure, but she has the rest of this plane ride to figure it out, and when she does know, it’s gonna be good, and they’re going to get together and be together forever. Simple, really.
Yet, Emily might be the most pleased of them all. This was absolutely not her intention when she had told the story of the prince and the maiden, but by no means was she opposed to the outcome. Her grin was contagious as she locked eyes with Rossi and JJ and even Hotch, breaking his ever-so-stoic demeanor. She could not wait to claim responsibility for their inevitable relationship, and boy, what a story she’d have for their wedding because of course, marriage is inevitable too. At least for these two, it seems.
When finally the silence stretched on too long and the team’s gaze weighed too heavy on the young almost-lovers, they startled out of their reverie with nervous chuckles and burning cheeks. You handed the star back to Emily, “Neat little thing!”
“Sure is,” she replied with the most frustratingly canny smirk. You avoided her eyes; it was clear what they were insinuating.
Spencer stared down at the book in his lap, trying to resist the painfully strong urge to watch you for a little while longer as you tried to steer the conversation to easier topics. He was a little afraid of how enamored he was because it was a lot. A lot a lot. He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and let the tension from his shoulders fall as he carefully fingered the binding of Pride and Prejudice. He’d only really picked it up because you suggested it. ‘I know you’re not very into romance,’ you had said. ‘But I’ll still think you’ll enjoy it. Mrs. Bennet never fails to make me smile, so at the very least, I think you’ll get a laugh out of it.’ He thought it was funny the way you buffered your suggestion, as if he wouldn’t do anything you asked him. And it was true. Mrs. Bennet made him laugh too, but he found himself more and more enthralled by the relationship unfolding between Miss Bennett and Mr. Darcy. He was going soft, and he had a sneaking suspicion as to why (or a very clear reason that was just really hard to come to terms with) (ie., his overwhelming love for you). He gave in to his urges and glanced back up.
He was met by your perpetual grin as you chatted softly with Emily. As your eyebrows raised or your nose scrunched, he let the butterflies in his stomach roam free. They were uncomfortable in the best way possible. Satisfied with one last look at you, he reopened the book and tried to keep reading, but his thoughts ran rampant. He’d given you a little star puzzle, a star to represent his undying love for you. It wasn’t much, but it was something. He knew he couldn’t catch a falling star, but he’d find a way if that’s what you wanted. A faint smile graced his lips as he thought, I’d do anything. If she wanted it, I’d give her anything. I’d give her every star in the sky.
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You Keep Me Waitin’
Chapter 1: Feel Better (9k words)
Summary: Kagami and Marinette aren't that close— they’re friendship is relatively new and there's still some unresolved tension. Kagami has just experienced heart break for the first time, and her mother’s expectations are beginning to weigh on her. Marinette’s duties are doing a similar number on her, and painful realizations have also left her heartbroken. They realize they can use each other as an excuse to flee from their troubling lives. In each other they find unexpected comfort, and soon they're closer than either could have expected.
Available on Ao3 , fanfic.net , and Wattpad
Notes:
First fanfic I'm publishing in a while. So I made the creative decisions to make the characters slightly older, around 17,16 ish. It's just cause it makes me uncomfortable to write sexual tension between 14-15 year olds. Also, this fic takes place right after the break ups so like season 4, ep 2. I can't promise consistent updating schedule but I'm committing to this fic. This first chapter is pretty long, I don't have a set words per chapter limit so the chapters might be all over the place. Anyway. Enjoy :)
Kagami feels hollow.
She felt hollow as she closed the door of the locker room. She felt hollow as she walked out of Françoise Dupont. She felt hollow as she made her way down the stone steps at the entrance of the collège. The sound of her shoes making contact with the ground made Kagami feel especially hollow —the only sound that rang in her ears. Said shoes carried her to Tatsu's red door. Eyes found the car’s window, Kagami grimaced at her own reflection.
She clutched Tatsu’s handle and swung the backseat door open, hoping to flee from her own eyes.
Her head hung low, eyes on her lap, as she closed the door. Slowly, she lifted her head to face the window and the collège’s front gates. She took a deep breath before turning her eyes forward.
“Take me home, Tatsu.”
The collège disappeared as Tatsu moved forward.
Kagami exhaled.
Her hands found their way into her fencing bag and she slowly retrieved her phone from the bundle of clothes and protein bars. She steeled herself as her phone lit up. The screen read 6:09 against a familiar picture Kagami had taken that day at the San Martin Canal. They were seated at the canal’s edge, Adrien’s chin smudged with ice cream and Kagami smiling giddily at having caught this momentary clumsiness. Adrien, oblivious to the desert decorating his face, grinning at the camera and leaning close to her. She pursed her lips as she felt a pang to her chest, and opened settings with a decisive press of the home button. Their twin smiles disappeared from her lock screen, replaced with an old picture of the Eiffel Tower— one she had taken when she’d first arrived in Paris. She’d grown accustomed to it by now, but the large monument had seemed so mystical when she first saw it.
A sense of exhaustion came over her and she let her neck fall backwards. Head falling on the seat’s headrest, the car’s ceiling filled her vision.
Had this been a mistake?
Kagami had always been rational. Her mother valued logic above all, putting her stakes only in what she could hope to benefit from. Mother had taught this principle to Kagami at an early age, and Kagami had taken it to heart. She put a lot of effort into her passions, assured that her work would pay off. She took her future seriously, recognizing that it would reflect all of her present decisions. She didn’t goof off or blow off responsibilities. She did her best to control her sometimes reckless personality. She wasn’t disobedient.
And she certainly didn’t waste her time in mindless relationship games.
But here she was now.
Kagami had gone about dating Adrien the way she did most things: straight to the point, and with a set goal in mind. She had been decisive, and she wasted no time dancing around her feelings, thinking that it would pay off, like all other things had in her life. Sitting alone in a car, heartbroken, had not been the outcome she predicted. Could she have miscalculated?
Somewhere inside herself, she understood that she had been very clear about her feelings, and had worked hard to maintain their relationship– at times, even foolishly bended some of her values just to get closer to him. Adrien had been the one to lie, and had always been more apprehensive with his affection, like he was holding back and holding on at the same time. Right now though, Kagami doubted herself.
She’d never been the type to, but maybe while she was blinded by her affections for Adrien, she’d lost herself.
Her mother would be disappointed. Kagami hadn’t exactly told her of their relationship, and thinking of the times she did stuff she would disapprove of just to spend time with Adrien, Kagami wasn’t sure if she wanted to.
God.
Kagami had been so eager to get closer to Adrien, and latched on as soon as Adrien began to reciprocate her stares, she had acted foolishly hadn’t she?
Her eyes eventually found the window again, but she regretted it as soon as her eyes laid on the glossy dark waters of the San Martin Canal.
She saw the green leaves of trees painted on the water’s surface.
Something coiled in her chest.
“Tatsu, stop.”
Suddenly overcome with emotion, Kagami pushed the car door open and exited onto the aligned stone slabs of the sidewalk. The door closed behind her, body facing the canal. A breeze swept Kagami’s bangs out of her face, drying the prickle of tears at the edge of her eyes. She walked closer to the canal and peered at her figure reflected on the water, her hands bunched in her skirt. The water was too far away for any of her features to be distinguishable but she stared at her reflection– her head of dark hair a blob dancing on the canal’s ripples. Her fists slowly unclenched and she lowered herself to the canal’s edge.
As her eyes followed the ripple of the water, Kagami wondered if getting overly self conscious about this break up was what was irrational. Obviously most relationships ended, and she couldn't expect her first lover to be her last.
A memory of telling ladybug her and Adrien were meant to be crossed Kagami’s mind. She grimaced, cringing at the memory. Kagami had said it with bold certainty, confident that there was something special between them–an understanding she’d never experienced with anyone else. She hoped that maybe… that would be the case, once Adrien was ready he would apologize and realize what she had long ago.
He didn’t trust her now though, so what assured her he ever would.
Maybe the wound was too fresh to wonder about the future.
Kagami closed her eyes and felt another gust of wind flutter against her eyelids. She stood back up and began to walk along the canal.
As she walked further and further from Tatsu, she began to realize another issue.
Was she going to ignore Adrien?
She had told him she didn’t want to stay friends. Adrien’s distrust had stung her deeply– she had, after all, put a lot of energy and time into their relationship, and just returning to their old dynamic felt wrong. Were they just supposed to not acknowledge any of the remaining tension?
Adrien hiding stuff from her would sting regardless of their relationship, she cared very deeply for him– friend or lover. Kagami had to remind herself: don’t waste time and energy on fruitless efforts.
If Adrien wasn’t gonna let up, Kagami would stop giving him the time of day. The opportunity to hurt her. She felt justified in her harshness, though Adrien was one of the only friends she’d ever had. Kagami began to wonder if any of this would seem ridiculous to someone more understanding and emotionally intelligent– Kagami admitted she felt short in that regard.
She admittedly was too caught up thinking of ways to figure this out to pay much attention to her surroundings. Mid thought, something slammed into her, or rather she slammed into someone. Kagami stumbled backwards, almost losing her footing but catching herself at the last minute. As soon as she regained her balance she looked up at the offended party to apologize. She was met with a familiar pair of blue bell eyes. Before she could muster up a ‘sorry’, Marinette beat her to it.
“Kagami! I’m so sorry! I was distracted and wasn’t looking where I was going.”
Her face was somewhat obstructed by boxes stacked on her arms- which she noticed were now off center.
“I’m sorry too, Marinette; I was also distracted.”
Marinette readjusted the boxes.
“No, it was probably more on me. My limbs seem to have a mind of their own, a lot of people have fallen victim to my clumsiness.”
Marinette’s face scrunched embarrassment.
“Well you are the one carrying boxes, I just bypassed pedestrian etiquette in my mindless daydreaming.”
Kagami could make out Marinette’s smile even with the obstruction to her face.
“That’s just like you to think getting distracted is a lapse of ‘pedestrian etiquette’.”
She chuckled at Marinette’s phrasing of ‘pedestrian etiquette’. Marinette’s eyes peered at her quizzically.
“Are you alone, Kagami?”
“I am.”
That seemed to confuse Marinette as she looked around Kagami.
“I don’t mean to pry, but why are you walking down the San Martin Canal?”
Kagami looked back to the canal’s waters.
“I suppose...”, She tried to find an excuse as she faced Marinette again, " I thought the walk would be some nice, light exercise.” Marinette raised an eyebrow at her.
“Right after fencing? Shouldn’t you be having a meal?”
She was surprised that Marinette had any knowledge in the dietary guidelines of athletes. She’d never mentioned partaking in any active hobby to Kagami.
“I was just trying it out. ''
Marinette still seemed confused but shrugged and didn’t press further. Kagami’s eyes shifted to the boxes Marinette was still carrying.
“And you? Is there a reason you’re walking down a canal with an armful of boxes?”
Marinette seemed to remember what she was holding as her eyes flickered to the packages in front of her.
“Oh, right. I’m just making a delivery for the bakery.”
Kagami was now the one to question her with a raised eyebrow.
“On foot? With that tall of a stack?”
Her expression turned sheepish.
“Bad idea in retrospect, considering my clumsiness and all.”
Kagami couldn’t help but smile.
“What if I help you?”
Marinette’s eyes widened.
“With my delivery?”
Kagami nodded.
“What about your light exercise?”
“Whether it be going home or making a delivery I’m still walking.”
Marinette’s cheeks pinked. “Oh, uh, guess you’re right.”
She approached Marinette and reached for the top couple of boxes, taking them into her arms and waiting for Marinette to readjust her arms again.
“Okay, it’s only two blocks from here.”
Marinette began to walk and Kagami moved to follow her pace.
“Do you often make deliveries for your parents’ bakery?”
“When they need to be done yeah; it’s my way of helping out.”
Kagami looked at her profile, her pigtails more hastily tied than usual and her cheeks a paler pink than she was used to.
“Have they been keeping you busy?”
“Ah, no more than usual.”
Marinette met her eyes momentarily and Kagami wondered if those were eyebags under her eyes.
“They try not to be too demanding.”
“Really?... Have you been testing lately?”
She saw Marinette turn to her and could almost feel her puzzlement.
“Uh, no?...”
Marinette faced the walkway again.
“Why do you ask?”
“I just haven’t heard from you lately.”
There was a pause.
“I’ve just been caught up in some stuff.”
Kagami sensed she didn’t want to elaborate so she kept her questions to herself.
“Well, It’s nice to see you, even in a somewhat odd situation.”
“I’m glad to see you too.”
Her smile became soft.
“I haven’t seen much of you either, but I understand you’ve also been… busy.”
The silence that followed hung for a second too long. Kagami wasn’t sure how she should interpret that— she’d never explicitly told Marinette about her and Adrien, but they hadn’t really hid their affection.
“I…” Kagami sighed. “Yeah, I have been distracted with other… stuff.”
The silence continued and Kagami considered even noting the weather to fill it. Before she could stew in the silence any longer, Marinette cut through it with a boldness she wasn’t accustomed to seeing from her.
“How are things with Adrien?”
Kagami suddenly felt very insecure and the packages of pastries in her arms felt heavier.
“We weren’t very subtle were we?”
Marinette considered her question.
“You two have been getting pretty chummy for a while.”
“... I can see what you mean.”
“You know, it’s okay. I just really hope you don’t drop me, so you guys better not stop hanging out with me.”
Marinette’s attempt at lightening the mood was stunted by the tension. Kagami was too preoccupied with finding the right response to care.
“Well, of course, I wouldn’t abandon our relationship for Adrien.”
Kagami was too consumed in her nerves to notice the change in tone of Marinette’s silence.
“You don’t have to worry about my schedule being full though.”
Marinette laughed.
“Kagami, it’s natural for couples to spend a lot of time together, you don’t have to make time you don’t have for me. Don’t worry, I have other people I can get orange juice with.”
She swallowed.
“I don’t doubt you do.”
They approached a crossroad and Marinette turned, Kagami following after her. She let it out before she decided against it.
“What I meant to say, is that you don’t have to worry about my schedule being full anymore.”
Marinette stopped abruptly but Kagami expected it. Her expression was hard to decipher.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that”, Kagami stepped closer to her. “Adrien’s no longer going to be taking up my time.”
Marinette’s eyebrows slowly furrowed, she searched her face and Kagami hoped Marinette couldn’t make out her insecurity.
“You…”
“We did.”
She faced forward once again.
“It’s been the case for all of a half an hour.”
“Oh, God, Kagami, I’m so sorry.”
Kagami turned to shoot her a frown. Marinette shut her mouth before she could begin her rambling. She might not be feeling like herself but she still wasn’t below taking her pity.
“Obviously I’m still processing but quite honestly, the break up actually happened last night.”
“Oh.”
“I won’t need to see him until our next fencing lesson so I’ll have time to figure something out.”
They finally continued to walk.
“I mean, I bet Adrien will make an effort to keep things friendly.”
“That’s exactly what I fear.”
“What do you mean?”
Kagami kept her eyes forward.
“I’m not planning on keeping our relationship as friendly as it was before.”
She hoped she didn’t sound bitter.
“That bad, huh?”
“Adrien made his decisions so I made mine.”
Kagami definitely sounded bitter.
“Well, then I guess you should start making time for another juice date.”
Marinette’s smile felt reassuring. She slowed down and stopped in front of a pair of glass doors. Kagami could make out a lobby from the large windows on either side.
“We’re here by the way.”
Kagami went ahead and opened one of the doors, holding it for Marinette who had the taller stack of boxes. Marinette allowed her act of chivalry and entered, Kagami following behind her.
She looked around the lobby as Marinette advanced to the front desk, eyeing the cushions taking up most of the room, and wondering who had thought buying several loveseats for such a small lobby was a good idea. Marinette returned before Kagami could criticize the internal design further.
“Okay, we should be able to just go up and knock on the door.”
They made their way to the elevator and Marinette pressed the button to the fourth floor. They stood in silence for a few seconds.
“It wasn’t just me that noticed the disgusting orange loveseats was it?”
Kagami smirked
“I also noticed their incompatibility with the room, though I was more worried with the amount of floor plan they took up.”
Marinette scoffed, “More like incompatibility with my eyes.”
This time Kagami actually laughed.
The elevator doors opened and they made their way into a hallway lined with numbered doors.
“Okay, I think it was apartment 127.”
They scanned the doors until finding it: apartment 127. Kagami knocked and they waited for an answer. Kagami could hear the muted sound of rock music and laughter. Finally, the door’s handle shook and the door swung open. A short woman with brown hair dyed red stood at the entrance, her eyes taking them and their armful of boxes in.
“Oh, the pastries are here!” The woman pushed the door open further, and turned her head to the apartment.
“Arthur! Come help me with the pastries.” The woman turned back to them “Sorry, lovelies, I’ll get those off ya in a sec.”
A man poked his head before joining the four of them at the entrance. He was significantly taller than the woman but had the same red hair.
“Those smell good”, he grinned.
“I can assure they taste just as good”, Marinette responded, sugar sweet, in what Kagami guessed was her customer service voice. The woman and man reached out and took the boxes from them and Kagami was glad to have the weight off her arms. She stretched them out as the woman looked through her wallet and placed some bills in Marinette’s hands. “Thank you, have a nice day, ma’am.”
“Have a nice day too, ladies.”
Marinette smiled at them as they closed the door. Then she also stretched her arms with a sigh.
“Okay, let’s go.”
They entered the elevator, returned to the lobby, and then exited the apartment complex.
Marinette turned to her. “Thank you so much, Kagami, people don’t tend to order so much so it was probably for the best I ran into you.”
“It wasn’t a bother,” she could feel the smile on her lips, “It was also nice to catch up with you.”
Marinette grinned at her.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you at another time. You should probably call Tatsu, you’ve had enough exercise for today.”
“Oh, are you my trainer, Marinette?”
“I’m your friend, so I’m more important.”
Kagami couldn’t argue with that. An idea popped into her brain and she pursed her lips.
“Let me walk you home, Marinette.”
Marinette blinked at her.
“Walk me home?”
“Yes.” She nodded awkwardly, “Walk you home.”
“Shouldn't you be home by now?”
That made Kagami pause— it was true her mother would figure out her absence pretty soon.
“It’s fine, I’ll just text my mother.”
“But you must be tired, I really wasn’t kidding about the exercise thing.”
Kagami disliked when people coddled her, but Marinette’s worry did actually make her feel cared for.
“I’ll be fine, Marinette, I always make sure to carry extra protein bars in my bag.”
Kagami paused and furrowed her brows. “That is unless you’d rather walk home alone, I’m sorry if my request was brash.”
Marinette shook her hands.
“No, no, I just didn’t want you to over exert yourself. I know you always give it your all at your fencing practices.”
While Kagami had had a tiring day, Marinette’s company has helped both the ache of her muscles and her chest.
“I’m not that tired, besides,” Kagami moved to stand beside her, “we haven’t talked about our juice date.” She was rewarded with a bright smile.
“Okay, fine, if you’re sure.”
Marinette began to walk and Kagami was right beside her.
“You know, I’ve always wanted to ask you where in the world you found a red lamé?”
“Well, Marinette, I pride myself in my dedication.”
They fell into step with each other, letting the conversation flow naturally. As they made their way through the streets of Paris, Kagami listened intently to Marinette’s rambling about old fabric dyeing techniques she’d been looking into. They finally found their way to Marinette’s doorstep and they waved each other goodbye.
She was aware she might return home to a lecture, but as Kagami saw Marinette enter her home, she recognized she felt better.
--------
Marinette rested her back on a chimney, her eyes raking over the other rooftops, waiting for an unexpected attack to pop out of them at any second. Chat was similarly seated next to her, though he didn’t seem quite as on edge as Marinette felt.
Now that the duo had to worry about Shadow Moth, Marinette felt like she was on edge as soon as she transformed. Chat sensed her unease, and regularly attempted to ease her tension with a lighthearted joke. Marinette appreciated his efforts, but she also didn’t want to be distracted —just in case.
She drummed her fingers on her lap and wondered if maybe they should move to a higher vantage point. Maybe they should start making their patrols more active, circling the whole city instead of just moving to a few locations and watching. If there was going to be an akumatization tonight, Marinette hoped it would appear already. Now that she had a gaggle of kwamis to look after, Marinette’s responsibilities seemed to have doubled. She really couldn’t slack off in her schoolwork, or her duties as class rep, or her obligations to the bakery— she knew wedding season was coming up so her parents were going to really need her help. That wasn’t even mentioning all of the personal issues Marinette didn’t know how to tackle. She seemed to have been able to keep a low radar so far, but any second now her friends would figure out the earlier day’s events.
Marinette really didn’t want to think about Juleka’s reaction.
Marinette’s thrumming speed up.
Chat must have seen the anxious twitch of her fingers.
“You know, it’s getting late, there probably won’t be any trouble tonight.”
Her eyes flickered to the blonde.
“We haven’t checked the south-eastern side of the city.”
“I can go check on my way home.”
Marinette thought about protesting, but she could make out the worry etched onto the line of his eyebrows. His mop of hair caught her eye, messier than she was usd to— almost like it was drooping. She wondered if she wasn’t the only one having a hard time.
“You go to school so you should probably get home and rest.”
“You also go to school”, Marinette noted.
Chat’s replying chuckle felt empty.
“I’m not going to be sleeping anytime soon .” Marinette hoped it wasn’t defeat what she heard in his voice. She regarded his usually vibrant eyes, now dulled with an exhaustion Marinette could recognize.
“You too huh?”
Chat broke eye contact to look out at the Paris scenery. Marinette did the same, gazing at the endless darkness of the sky.
“It’s been a hard week.”
She could only hum in agreement.
Her suit protected her from the cold, but Marinette’s face felt icy in the night’s dropping temperature.
“Is it a personal problem?”
“Well, I think Shadow Moth has both of us on edge, but mostly yeah.”
Chat fiddled with the cuffs of his gloves. She’d always been a proponent of keeping everything private, only revealing what was necessary, but something about Chat’s frown bothered Marinette.
“I can listen.”
Chat’s head shot up, his expression one of surprise. Marinette tried to convey comfort through her own expression.
“Really?”
“As long as you keep it vague. I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”
His responding smile was small, but Marinette was glad for it nonetheless.
“Well, um, okay.”
Marinette relaxed against the chimney and Chat changed his posture to face her more.
“I started seeing someone recently.”
Marinette’s eyes widened but she kept quiet.
“We were friends beforehand and I realized I liked her, so I thought it would be a good idea.” Chat exhaled. “I’m Chat Noir though, so we couldn’t keep it up.”
Understanding washed over her.
“She was pretty upset, and now… she told me she no longer wanted to have any type of relationship.”
Chat’s eyes stared at the ground(rooftop rather.) Marinette reached for him without thinking. Chat looked at the hand she placed on his shoulder, and then at her. His eyes told her he received the message:
I understand
She leaned in and hugged him. They sat like that for a few seconds, enjoying each other’s warmth, before they separated.
“I think you’re right. We should go home.”
Chat nodded and they both stood up, still facing each other.
“Chat… I know we can’t exactly hang out, but you’re my friend, so if you need anything...”
Chat nodded.
“Thank you, ladybug.”
They shared a smile before going their separate ways.
--------
Marinette was later than usual. The classroom’s tone felt different than yesterday, and Marinette read it immediately. She apologized and took her seat, trying not to meet anyone’s eyes. She could feel Alya’s on her all hour though, but she kept her eyes forward. All of her attention was focused on Mme. Bustier, Marinette throwing herself into the coursework to try and ignore the impending questions. The scratch of graphite on paper worked as a background to Mme. Bustier’s voice, and it did a good job at keeping Marinette’s mind occupied with work.
So much so that Marinette almost didn’t hear the bell.
She stared through the paper in front of her, her fingers tightening around the pencil in her hand. She could feel more eyes on her now.
Recognizing that she could no longer ignore Alya, Marinette picked herself up from her hunched posture and turned to her. Like she predicted, Alya was looking right at her. She didn’t attempt to decode the emotions in the hazel of Alya’s eyes.
She stood up and Marinette knew to follow. Mylène, Rose, Alix, and Juleka were behind them as they made their way out of the classroom. Alya stopped next to a bench and sent Marinette a look, communicating to her that she should sit down. Marinette complied.
She studied Alya’s face, and Marinette disliked that the tension in it looked more like worry than displeasure— Marinette didn’t want to lie to Alya when she was looking at her with concern. Alya sighed and she sat beside her, the other girls sitting around them. Marinette thrummed her fingers, waiting for Alya’s words.
She directed them at Alix though.
“Alix, would you like to tell Marinette what you told me?”
Alix met eyes with Marinette before facing Alya.
“Recently I heard something from Mylène about Marinette.”
She blew a bubble with her bubblegum and it’s pop unsettled Marinette.
“I think she knows what I’m talking about.”
Marinette sighed before rubbing her arms self consciously. She looked around at their faces— they were waiting for her but Marinette didn’t know what to tell them. She remembered the walk she’d had with Kagami some days ago. Kagami had noticed her exhaustion so soon, she could only wonder how long it must have taken her best friend.
“Do you not want to tell us what happened?”
“Um, no, no, I just… It’s just complicated, I’m not sure I’m even done processing what happened.”
Alya placed a hand on her shoulder. They all understood.
“I, well. I’ll tell you.”
Marinette took a deep breath and tried to work out what parts she had to modify.
“You guys know I’ve had feelings for Adrien all year. For months I’ve had this giant crush on him.” He heard some hums of agreement.
“These past few months I’ve actually begun to talk to him, and for a while now we’ve been friends. Somewhere during that time, I started to get to know different sides of Adrien, and my feelings deepened. I began to think that maybe he could actually like me back. I felt like we were finally connecting... But I think I’ve slowly come to realize that Adrien doesn't think about me like that.” Marinette could hear her voice lowering so she coughed and looked up. “I had to come to terms that Adrien liked someone else, loved someone else.” She tried not to think about Kagami’s words.
“Luka, he was always so sweet. With Adrien, I felt like this spluttering blubbering mess.” She sighed. “No wonder he didn’t like me back, all of my clumsiness gets turned up to a hundred around him. Even once my stuttering calmed down somewhat as we became closer, I feel like a mess around him even now.”
Alya scoffed like she’d been the one to be insulted.
“Marinette, you’re so incredibly smart and clever. You’re also kind and you don’t hesitate to help others. If Adrien hasn’t realized that yet then that’s not your fault.”
She tried not to think about how Adrien was all of those things, but more. Or how Kagami was also all of those things, but yet they still…
Marinette didn’t let herself dwell on it.
“That’s something Luka would have told me.”
Alya fell silent.
“Luka made me feel like I could just be. It was easy to talk to him, and when he told me he had feelings for me… I felt like maybe we could work.”
Her eyes flickered to Juleka, but her expression hadn’t changed much.
“My feelings for Adrien were hard to ignore though. I think Luka could tell.”
“I really did like Luka. I just, I feel like I got him caught up in my emotional mess and hurt him.”
Marinette stopped thrumming her fingers and dug them into the fabric of her pants.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys. I’ve been busy and I haven’t been able to reflect on the break up yet.” Marinette looked around all of them, their faces sympathetic.
Rose stood up and wrapped her arms around Marinette. She pulled back and Marinette could see tears rimming her eyes.
“You don’t have to apologize to us, Marinette.”
“Yeah, it sounds like you’ve been having a rough time”, Mylène piped up.
Alya’s hand slid from her shoulder to her back. Marinette appreciated the act of comfort.
“Thank you guys, for being understanding. I just need some time.”
“Of course, Mari, just tell us if you need some hang out buddies to turn your brain off with.” Alix didn’t join them in their huddle around the bench, but her smile was softer than her usual smirk.
“Of course”, Marinette grinned, she could feel the mood lifting. “If any of you would like to get your butts kicked in Ultimate Mecha Strike III, you know who you can call.”
Rose and Mylène giggled, parting from Marinette so she could look up at them better. Marinette couldn’t tell them everything but she genuinely felt her mood lift.
The bell rang.
Marinette felt like now she could scratch that off her list of things to worry about.
She was about to stand up as the other girls smiled and made their way back when she turned to Alya. She was staring at her intensely, like she was analyzing Marinette.
“Uh, Alya? We should make our way back.”
Alya continued to stare at Marinette. Marinette swallowed and clutched the edge of the bench. Finally, Alya crossed her arms and stood up. She didn’t move to make their way back though.
“Alya, we’re going to be late.”
“You’re still hiding something.”
Marinette’s mouth shut. Alya just continued to bore holes through her.
“H-Hiding something?”
“Luka knew you were in love with Adrien since before. He would have been fine with waiting for you to get over him.”
“But I couldn't, okay. I was hurting him and we couldn’t-”
“Marinette, I’m your best friend, you know you can tell me anything, right?”
Marinette wanted to say she couldn’t actually. She bunched her fist in her jacket instead.
“If this is about me not being the one to tell you, I already apologized. I really am sorry, but I just wasn't in the right headspace.”
“When you’re not in the right headspace your emotions tend to spill over. You’re not the type to stew in your feelings.” Marinette narrowed her eyes at her, annoyed at how factual she’d made it sound.
“Don’t act like you know everything about me, Alya.”
Alya’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Marinette swallowed.
“I mean…” She sighed.
“Again, I’m not in the right headspace. Let’s just go to class.” Marinette left and didn’t look back to see if Alya followed.
--------
After class, Marinette shot some smiles at the girls. She apologized to Alya but she could tell she wanted to press further. She left before Alya could protest.
Marinette entered the bakery and greeted her parents, masking her mood with a bright smile.
“Hey Maman, hey Papa.”
“Hello, sweet buns. How was your day?”
Marinette circled the counter and joined them behind it.
“It was alright. Mme. Mendeleive started rambling about this guy called Louis Le Prince near the end of class. It was hard to follow but apparently he invented the camera before Eddison.”
Her mom smiled fondly at her.
“I didn’t know that. I hope that means she didn’t assign you any homework.”
They smirked at each other.
“You’d be right, Maman.”
Marinette didn’t say she was slightly disappointed about it. Her mind needed a distraction. And almost like she’d read her mind, her mother perked up, her expression somewhat sheepish.
“Would you be a dear and help us out with an order for waffle cookies. Me and papa are working on decorating a wedding cake.”
Marinette grinned at her mother.
“Of course, Maman.”
Her mother informed her of the specifics for the order before making her way back to her husband.
Marinette set her bag down on a corner and rolled up her sleeves, plugging in her headphones before reaching for the bottles of ingredients and bowls she would need. She scrolled through her Jagged Stone playlist as she plugged in the waffle iron, once finally settling on an album, stuffing her phone in her back pocket as she found her way back to the table. Marinette tried to get lost in the mindless task of measuring and mixing, making sure to be very meticulous so her mind could only focus on teaspoons of vanilla and cups of flour. These tasks were second nature to her anyway though, so eventually her mind wandered.
Marinette hoped that she’d be able to smooth things over with Alya tomorrow, but she knew how stubborn she could be— Alya wouldn’t stop questioning Marinette.
Marinette was so tired of the lies. She’d been lying to Alya almost the entirety of their friendship, and Marinette hated that she was getting better at it. She could just continue to lie to her, it was probably what she would end up doing, but what if Marinette didn’t? What if she just told her the truth.
Marinette fumbled with the mixer before pouring her mixture of ingredients onto the mixing bowl. The sound of the mixer competed with the loud music of her headphones, but more thoughts kept crawling into her mind.
Marinette would admit that at times she wished she didn’t have to.
It would be so nice to confide in someone who understood what being a highschooler was like, and who also had some experience with the whole superhero thing.
The danger was obvious though.
She’d be putting Alya’s security at risk, and hers as well of course.
So much was at stake so she couldn’t even entertain the thought.
That the weight of being Paris’ greatest superhero while being a seventeen year old high schooler was finally dawning on her.
The mixture of ingredients quickly turned into dough, and she began to scoop up balls of it with her fingers, morphing them into walnut sized balls.
How could Marinette be Marinette when she had to be ladybug? She had dreams she was trying to pursue, as well as responsibilities as a student and daughter. However, she also had a duty to Paris to protect its people. The reality was one she couldn’t afford to forget.
These days it felt like she had to be ladybug more and more, her persona bleeding into her everyday. Maybe it was all the hiding and lying that was slowly becoming part of her personality.
Her fingers dug into the dough a bit too hard and ended up making a hole through the ball of dough. She sighed at the tiny doughnut in her hands before reshaping it.
Trust was such an important part of relationships but there was no one Marinette could trust with her secret. And as ladybug continued to dominate her life, Marinette felt as if she’d never be able to invest herself fully in one. Marinette couldn’t giver herself whole if she had to hide half of herself.
She began to line the dough balls, checking the waffle iron.
Marinette hoped she’d be allowed to just be her soon enough. She could dedicate all her time to progressing in her aspirations, accomplishing her responsibilities, and maintaining her relationships.
She sprayed the waffle iron with cooking spray.
Leaving ladybug ...meant leaving Chat Noir too though.
Her eyes studied the dots of cooking spray on the iron.
Fingers pressed into the dough as she placed them along the iron. She lowered the lid slowly.
Maybe… just maybe, they’d find each other after.
The smell of the cookies crisping began to waft over her, Marinette leaned against the table, propping her arms on the surface and closing her eyes as she focused on the smell. The kitchen was warm, and she could hear a bit of the tune her Maman was humming through her headphones. Jagged Stone’s guitar began to quiet down.
It could be that they would never see each other again after that.
Her gaze dropped to her hands, knuckles white with flour and fingertips sticky with residue dough. Her left thumb reached for her right hand and she began to fidget with her ring finger. How did Chat’s miraculous look when he wasn’t transformed?
Marinette wondered if she’d be able to recognize it. After all, she doubted anyone would be able to recognize her superheroine persona shining through her fumbling civilian identity. Was Chat just as exuberant in real life? Her mind pondered what kind of teenager Chat would be like. He probably had a lot of friends, and he was probably a bit of an attention seeker. Marinette’s face softened. She bet he was insufferably kind. His friends were very lucky, they could enjoy being Chat’s friends without the weight of thousands of people’s lives on their shoulders.
If they met without the masks, would they be friends?
She flattened her hands against the table, tracing circles with her fingers on the flour dusting it. The next song on her playlist began to start. The sweet smell of the cookies continued to fill her nose.
Actually…
Marinette sniffed the air.
“Eek-”
She tried to find the timer somewhere, realizing she hadn’t even taken it out. Scrambling to lift the waffle iron lid’s, Marinette bumped into the table, her hip bone knocking against the table’s edge. She yelped and clutched her hip. Too late, Marinette realized the uncapped vanilla extract bottle. She tried to stop its fall but the bottle tumbled and knocked against a bowl before falling on its side. The dark liquid spilled onto the wood immediately, and Marinette panicked as it pooled around bowls.
“Marinette?”
She only responded with a strained chuckle as she lifted the bottle off the table and regarded the pool of vanilla.
“Sorry, I just spilled some extract.”
Her mother glanced from the wedding cake.
“Oh, honey, clean it up before it stains too badly.”
Marinette nodded and rushed to find some paper towels to absorb the extract. She pushed the bowls out of the way and pressed the paper towels onto the table, the white paper quickly turning dark even as the pool of liquid disappeared. Her eyes scanned the room for a rag as she replaced the paper towels. Her hands reached for the nearest one and took it, scrubbing at the surface, praying that the stain would lighten if she placed it next to a window.
Suddenly, Marinette remembered what her original plan was as the air turned bitter. Her hands fumbled to open the waffle iron, revealing the now overly brown cookies. She plucked them off the iron and placed them on a cooling rack. As she reached for the last one, her pinky brushed against the hot metal and she hissed, biting her lip and scowling as she rubbed at the burn.
“Today is not my day”, Marinette mumbled.
Her mother shot a glance in her direction again, her brows painted with concern. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”
“I’m fine, Maman, just a little burn.” Marinette sighed. “I’ll be right back.”
She left her parents in the bakery, climbing the stairs to her home. She pushed the door open with her body and found her way into the bathroom.
Marinette opened the faucet and slid her red pinky over the cool water. The change in temperature helped the pain and she exhaled deeply.
Her eyes found her reflection on the mirror and she couldn’t help but scowl. She’d been donning a ‘finals week’ kinda tired on her face– cheeks pale, eyebags deep, and pigtails almost coming undone– but now she also had flour dusting it. She couldn’t wait for this week to end. It was still the middle of the week though, so Marinette guessed she’d need to work extra hard to make it speed by. Her other hand found the faucet and closed it. The towel bothered her skin as she toweled her hands dry, but she hoped it would calm down soon enough. She made her way out of the bathroom, and turned to the kitchen. Swinging the cooler open and scanning its interior, Marinette took a napkin and plucked an ice cube off the ice rack. She closed the cooler before swinging her body onto the counter— her Maman wasn’t here so no one had to know.
The ice was a bit harsh on the burn, but Marinette was looking to numb the pain so she pressed tightly against her pinky. A quiet chuckle passed through her lips.
It’d be neat if she could have some numbing ice for other aspects of herself.
As she jokingly wondered how that’d work, she realized her mother was calling out to her.
“Marinette!”
She blinked at her Maman’s voice but made her way to the stairs, poking her head down to the bakery.
“Yes, Maman?”
Her mother appeared from around the corner.
“There’s a girl here asking for you, honey.”
Panic rose up her throat. Was it Alya? Marinette wasn’t ready to confront her, and she needed time to come up with something to feed to her.
“She brought you some orange juice.”
Marinette frowned at her mother. Orange juice?
Tension left her face.
Her Maman knew Alya pretty well, so Marinette supposed it’d be weird of her not to just tell her it was Alya.
Making her ways down the steps, Marinette looked around the bakery. A blue bob and white jacket was the first thing she registered.
“Kagami?”
The girl was standing somewhat awkwardly in front of the counter, two plastic cups in her hands.
“Good afternoon, Marinette.” Kagami’s greeting smile was stiff on her face.
“Hey, Kagami.” Marinette responded simply, she walked towards her, and weaved around the counter. She swept her hand over her cheeks.
“Sorry I was just baking.”
“You look fine, Marinette.”
“Really? I remember a few days ago you mentioned I looked pretty bad.”
“Well, you do look tired.”
Marinette shook her head. “I can’t argue with you on that.”
The logo on the plastic cups Kagami was carrying was familiar.
“So did you just drop by to give me orange juice?”
Kagami brought the cups up to her chest.
“Well”, Kagami shifted her weight from one foot onto the other, “I was hoping you’d have some with me.”
“Oh”
“Then in that case.” Marinette turned to her parents, who were probably already listening,
“Can I finish the cookies later?”
“Sure, honey, just cover the dough up.”
Marinette nodded and signaled Kagami to follow her. They walked past the counter and into the actual bakery, Marinette took some wide plates and lined the dough balls on them. She took some seran wrap and covered them, setting them off to the side. She swept her hands together to shake off any remaining flour and turned to Kagami.
“Okay, follow me.”
She led her around the corner and to the stairs. Kagami glanced around.
“So this is what leads to your actual home?”
She followed Marinette up the steps.
“Yep. The first floor is just the bakery.”
She pushed the door open and moved to let Kagami in first. Kagami took her home in. The white couch decorated with throw pillows; the kitchen with their bright blue refrigerator; the three windows spilling sunlight through grey curtains. Marinette closed the door behind them. Kagami stepped into the kitchen, her eyes roaming over the fridge.
Marinette joined her.
“Weird color for a home appliance, right?”
Kagami glanced back at her, but reached her hands up to a photo on the cooler’s door, her fingertips grazing it.
“Is this a relative of yours?”
Marinette glanced at what she was looking at. The photo was a few years old, Marinette was sprawled out on the couch that was currently right behind them. A teenage boy leaning on said couch was teasing Marinette with a feather. Her face was scrunched up as said boy tickled it with the feather. They were both grinning though.
“Oh.” Marinette smiled at the picture. “That’s my older brother actually.”
Kagami’s brow questioned her, surprise evident on her face. “I wasn’t aware you had a brother.”
“Yeah, I guess I don’t talk about him enough. His name is Anthony.”
“Does he live here?”
“Oh, no, he’s studying abroad right now. He wasn’t able to come during Christmas but he’ll be here during the summer.”
Kagami seemed to mull over this information. She kept her eyes on the photo.
“What was it like?” Marinette looked at her quizzically. “ Growing up with a sibling, I mean”, She clarified.
Marinette snorted. “Annoying, no one else knows how to tick you off like a sibling.”
She wiggled her fingers as she presented the picture. “Exhibit here.”
“Really? I don’t know if that sound… enjoyable.”
“Pfft, well growing up with siblings is definitely pretty bothersome.” Marinette nodded at her own comment. “Sometimes it's funny but being so close to someone before gaining any sense of maturity comes with annoying downfalls.”
“People have told me it’s sad I don’t have any siblings though.”
Marinette couldn’t read Kagami’s expression.
“That’s kinda rude of them.”
Kagami smiled at her response.
“I’ve always thought so too.” She set the orange juice on the nearest surface. “But I guess I wonder if siblings are worth all of their hype.”
Marinette thought about her brother. It’d been a while since he’d last seen him, and she’d never admit to it to him, but sometimes his absence made her home feel empty.
“It’s also really nice, having someone to grow up with. I get why they might have said that.”
She shrugged. “It’s a unique bond.”
“So do you miss you brother?”
“Ugh, well it’s a pain to admit but yeah.”
Kagami smirked in amusement. Marinette reached for the orange juice Kagami had brought. “I didn’t know they had such cute to go cups.”
Kagami took the other cup and followed Marinette as she made her way to the counter in the kitchen, each of them taking a seat.
“You're the type to always notice design.” It wasn't a question.
“Well I might specialize in fashion designing, but if something is cute then I’ll notice.” Marinette brought the straw up to her mouth. The orange juice was refreshing and Marinette humed against the straw in contentment. Kagami smiled at her drink as well.
“I love orange juice, but is there a specific reason you’re here?”
Kagami parted her mouth from the juice and shrugged. “I suppose we never actually set a date for that orange juice date.”
“Hmm, are you maybe trying to make time up with me?”
“Well I did want to see you.”
“I’m flattered by your honesty. But I bet you also wanted to see what a bakery-home was like.”
Kagami looked around the room again instead of responding.
“Your house is so small.”
“Oh, gee, I know it's no mansion.”
“No, I didn’t mean it in a degrading way.” Kagami’s eyes flitted to a particular tiger shaped pillow on the coach. It was an old comfort toy of Marinette. “It’s homely, and warm.”
“Well it is right above a bakery”, Marinette pointed out.
“It does smell of baked goods.”
“Come on Sunday mornings. Last week I woke up to lemon-berry savarin and palmier pastries.”
“Should I come every Sunday to guess the pastry of the week?”
“You're invited to taste it too.”
They both laughed.
“I can’t promise I’d be awake to greet you, Sundays are one of my holy sleeping-in days.”
“I see you value your sleep.”
“You could say that. Like you’ve noticed though, I look like a mess when I don’t get enough of it.”
Kagami didn’t respond for a second.
“So you haven’t been getting much sleep?”
“Oh, ah”, Marinette laughed awkwardly. “No, spose I haven’t.”
“You have a lot of responsibilities.”
“That I do.” Marinette chewed on the straw of her juice.
“Thank you for coming actually, I’ve been having an off day.”
“Rough week?”
“Pretty much.”
They sat in a comfortable silence as their juice slowly disappeared. Marinette noted that Kagami looked better than she had the last time they’d met. Part of her wanted to ask how that whole thing was going for her, but did she actually want to know?
“So”, Kagami broke the silence first. “You make deliveries but you also bake?”
“Of course, what kind of baker’s daughter do you take me for?”
“Do your parents expect you to take on the bakery someday?” Marinette opened her mouth but then swallowed.
“They understand I have a dream for designing, but we still haven’t figured it out. They really want to keep the bakery alive.”
“Sorry, it seems like a complicated subject.”
“It is, but it’s okay.” Marinette slurped the last of her orange juice and set her cup down.
“It really is okay though, a discussion for the future. Like you said, I have enough on my plate at the moment.” Kagami also finished her drink
“Well I hope the bakery stays open until next Sunday, I want to try the pastry of the week.”
Marinette giggled. “I’ll make sure to make you something special.”
“Do many people get the pleasure of tasting your baking?”
“Some lucky souls out there in Paris.”
“I trust you’re good then.”
“Well I think my baking is plenty tasty, I’m just a clutz.”
“So your clumsiness doesn't interfere with the taste?”
“No, it just endangers my safety, as well as anyone’s in a three meter radius”, Marinette sighed.
“I do read you as accident prone.”
“Don’t laugh but actually I stained the work table with vanilla extract and burned my pinky only a few minutes before you came.”
Kagami’s brows rose in surprise.
“Wow, really?”
“Yep”, Marinette grumbled, lifting her right hand up. It wasn’t so distinct anymore but her finger was still red. Kagami noticed.
“I see, does it still hurt?”
“Not really, I mean it’s not fun getting burned but I have thick skin so it’s okay.”
Kagami paused and looked at her, confused. “Thick skin?”
“I’ve been pricking my fingers with needles for years, scaring has made my skin thicker and less sensitive.”
“Oh, I had no idea.”
“Yeah, sometimes I get quite insecure about it. I don’t think a guy would appreciate holding hands with me. Girls are supposed to have soft skin or whatever.”
“I know what you mean, fencing has made me build my own callouses.”
“Oh that’s right, your fence training must have done a similar number on your hands.”
Kagami nodded holding her palms out on the countertop. “I have a similar insecurity.”
Marinette gazed at her hands, she could make out the callouses. She leaned closer to Kagami, placing her left hand on the countertop too.
“May I?”
Kagami’s dark eyes considered her, her bangs almost completely covering her eyebrows— It made it hard at times to decipher her expression— said bangs bounced as Kagami nodded. Marinette moved her eyes from Kagami to her palms. She lifted her left hand, her knuckles grazing the cool countertop as it approached Kagami’s. Their skin touched, marinette’s index finger grazing Kagami’s pinky. Her touch was tentative as she brushed her fingertips over Kagami’s fingers and against the inside of Kagami’s hand. It was unexpectedly cool. Just like Kagami had said, the skin along her palm’s crease was distinctly tough and one could only wonder the years of training needed to result in such callouses. She studied Kagami’s hand. Her palm was more plush than her own, but her fingers were bonier, and they also had a yellow undertone that darkened around the edges of her hands and turned into the warm color of the rest of her body. Marinette found this information oddly fascinating.
Her eyes flitted to Kagami’s face. Her gaze was on Marinette’s fingers, and Marinette realized that she was caressing Kagami’s palm. She flushed and retracted her hand, drumming her fingers on the countertop.
“Um, your hands are pretty nice actually.”
Kagami’s hands curled into loose fists.
“They aren’t soft though.”
“No, but anyone can tell that your skin’s texture is the product of hours of hard work.”
Kagami didn’t respond, but Marinette could make out a whisper of a smile on her lips.
“They, uh, they’re cool too.. Nice and cool.” Marinette swallowed, embarrassed she’d actually said that. Kagami blinked at her and Marinette hoped she hadn’t made it weird.
“Your’s are warm.”
Marinette stopped her drumming.
“Yeah, that makes sense.”
“Baker’s daughter thing again?”
Marinette chuckled and looked at her own hands now. “Yep, exactly.”
She ran her right thumb along the base of her left thumb. Her skin had more of a pink undertone which she knew she’d inherited from her papa. Marinette wondered if both of Kagami’s parents had warm undertones. She glimpsed in Kagami’s direction. Her eyes were on the countertop, somewhat hidden behind her bangs. Marinette realized how little she actually knew of Kagami. They hadn’t been friends for that long so maybe that was obvious. Was it one of those rich kid-strict parents thing?
A ringing broke her train of thought. Kagami sat up and reached for her pocket, hastily pulling her phone out. A frown pulled on her lips.
“Everything alright? Is your mom calling?”
“Just a text. She wants me to come home now/”
“Oh, do you need to be somewhere?”
“No, it’s just past the time I told her It’d be here.”
“Why does she need you home then?”
“She doesn't, she just doesn't like it when I don’t stick to my plans.”
Kagami returned her phone to her pocket, she could make out her exasperation through her movements.
“You need to leave then.”
“I do. I’ve intruded long enough anyways.”
“Of course you haven’t. But I’ll walk you out.”
Marinette stood up and Kagami followed. They made their way back to the bakery. Kagami nodded her head at her parents, a small bow of her head. “Thank you for letting me come into your home, M. and Mme.Dupain-Cheng.”
“You're always welcome -”
“Kagami”, Marinette offered.
“You're always welcome, Kagami. Have a good night, sweetheart.”
“And you as well.”
They exited the bakery, Tatsu already waiting for her.
“Well, it was nice seeing you. Feel free to come again.”
“I enjoyed talking with you.” Kagami’s smile was warm, her statement genuine.
“Thank you for allowing me to stay.”
Marinette could feel her own smile on her face. She waved as Kagami entered the car and drove off. It was evening by now.
Marinette stood in front of her home. She felt better.
A/N:
It's been a while since I last saw some of the episodes so if anything seems off let me know. I don't know if Anthony will make an appearance but I love the Brother AU so I'm including it. Feedback is appreciated, especially since I don't have any beta readers, point out any mistakes please.
-Rey :D
#Marigami#Kagaminette#marinette dupain cheng#Marinette#Kagami Tsurugi#Kagami#mlb#mlb fanfic#miraculous ladybug#ladybug#you keep me waitin’#ykmw
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Rooftop Confessions
Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader
Words: 1.9k
Summary: You like Matt. You have for a long time. After getting maybe a little bit too drunk, you end up confessing your feelings for him to Daredevil. Who also happens to be Matt.
Request: "How about a Matt Murdock x Reader? Where Reader has been crushing on Matt Murdock for a while and they are like long time friends, but she never acted on it because of his tendency to cut off everyone especially with his Daredevil tendencies so she thought the best way was to stay with him as a friend. She goes out drinking with Matt, Foggy, and Karen. Matt left early to go out Daredeviling where she said and got drunk. Later finding herself on the rooftop with him and accidentally confessing?" (anon)
Warnings: alcohol consumption, reader gets drunk
Foggy cheered when you stepped into Josie’s, holding up his beer in salute. “Y/N, you made it!” he said as he wrapped you in a one-arm hug. Matt and Karen were seated at the bar next to him, each nursing their own drinks. You waved to them in greeting and settled into your seat at the end of the bar, throwing your jacket over the back of your seat. Josie slid your usual drink to you a few moments later.
“So, are we celebrating a big win or drowning out a loss?” you asked. The law firm had an important case today, one that would also hopefully score the employees of Nelson & Murdock a huge paycheck.
“Drinks on us!” Foggy answered, signaling Josie for another round.
You laughed. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, there, Nelson.”
“Hush up and drink.”
You laughed and downed the rest of your drink as Foggy pressed a shot into your hand.
You ended up celebrating a little too hard. It was nearing 3am by the time you, Foggy, and Karen all stumbled home. Matt had dipped out somewhere around your fifth drink, claiming he had paperwork to complete. You had been a little disappointed, to be honest, when he settled up his part of the tab and headed home. You spent too much time goofing off with Foggy and Karen and too little with Matt.
That was the case lately, or so it seemed. At one point in time, you and Matt were inseparable. You were best friends throughout high school and college and now… Matt was so distant. He hardly spent time with you, hardly returned your calls. The only time you got to see him was when you forced your way into his office at lunchtime. And even then he was always tensed, distracted.
You missed him.
Before he started pulling away, you had nearly gathered the courage to tell him how you felt. You’d liked him for a while now, since senior year of university—definitely probably even before then. It had taken awhile to accept the fact that you liked him, even longer to accept the possibility that you might never be with him. You didn’t know which was scarier: turning your friendship into romance or the possibility of being rejected and ruining your relationship. Until you could figure out which one it was, you pushed your feelings away until the right time.
But now you knew what the worst outcome was. It was ruining your relationship and never talking to Matt again. And that seemed like the path you were on.
You combed every interaction that you could remember with Matt. Had you done something wrong? Had you said something to turn him away? But the more you thought, the less you came up with. You didn’t remember ever letting it slip that you liked him or even shed some sort of a hint. You couldn’t remember any time you had offended him or caused him pain or even the last argument you had. You couldn’t remember anything to upset him so that only left…
You.
He didn’t like you anymore, romantically or platonically. You were different people now than you were when you were kids. He didn’t want to be your friend anymore or have any sort of relationship to you. But Matt was always too nice to break off any sort of friendship directly, so this had to be why he was pulling away. He was still friends with Foggy and Karen, so this had to be it.
The tears started to roll down your face. You were catastrophizing, you knew, but your rational self was overwhelmed by your drunk self who wanted nothing more than to cry. You hated being an emotional drunk. You shouldn’t have let Foggy coax you into taking tequila shots—this always happened.
You stumbled to the rooftop of your building, tears still pouring eagerly down your cheeks. You hoped the fresh air might calm you down some. Instead, your heart nearly burst out of your chest.
The sight of man in a red suit crouching on your rooftop caught you off guard. You shrieked and fell flat on your ass in your hasty stumble backwards. The man instantly spun to face you and took a few, slow steps forward. You tensed, waiting for something bad to happen, but then eased when your alcohol-addled mind finally realized who was before you.
It was Daredevil who was creeping on your rooftop.
“Jesus Christ,” you shouted, rubbing off your now slightly scraped hands. “You nearly gave me a heart attack! Why are you perched like a freaking gargoyle at three a.m.? Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
“Slow night,” Daredevil chuckled. He offered a hand to help pull you up and you took it, dusting off your legs now that you were standing. “Besides, I could also be asking you why you’re on a rooftop at three a.m.”
“I live here. And I’ve never seen you in my elevator before, so I’m guessing you don’t. So I have a right to be here.”
“Fair enough.”
A teardrop rolling down your chin and onto your chest reminded you that you had been crying not two minutes ago. You quickly wiped at your wet cheeks, hoping to remove all evidence that you were upset. But no luck. “You okay?” he asked. Damn.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Why do you ask?” You attempted a chuckle to throw him off, but the alcohol in your system had you going zero to sixty and laughed a little too loud. You grimaced when you realized what you were doing. “I’m a little drunk,” you confessed as your world turned a little and you stumbled where you stood.
“I can tell.”
You plopped yourself on a concrete ledge in the middle of the rooftop—even drunk, you knew to steer clear of the edge of the building. You patted the spot beside you and, surprisingly, Daredevil sat down. Far enough away to not be touching, but close enough to feel the warmth off his body. Like you were friends.
The thought had you choking up again. “Can I tell you something?”
“Sure,” he replied. He was gazing out over the city and not meeting your eyes, but you couldn’t tell what he was looking for.
“I know you’re a complete stranger, but I feel like I could tell you anything…maybe it’s the alcohol talking.” He hummed noncommittally and you continued. “I just…I’ve been needing to get this off my chest for a while now. And I know you help people, so maybe you could help me too, even if I don’t have anyone’s ass for you to kick. Well…maybe I do. I have this friend…we’ll call him…Matt.” You nearly rolled your eyes at your inability to come up with a fake name. A cool breeze jumped over the rooftops and you shivered. Daredevil tensed a little, but you attributed it to the chill. “Matt and I have been friends for a long time now, since high school, and I’ve liked him for nearly all that time. And I know he’s busy with work, but I feel like he’s pulling away from me, you know? We used to hang out all the time and now…I hardly see him but once a week. And I was so close to telling him I liked him, too, you know? I was planning on how I was going to say it and then he…pulled away. And now I don’t know what to do and I’m afraid it’s something I did or that he just doesn’t even want to be friends anymore. I just love him so much and I…” You cut yourself off before you would make yourself cry again.
After a moment of thoughtful silence, he spoke. “I don’t think it’s anything you did.”
You scoffed. “And how would you know? You don’t even know me.”
“There are some things I can just tell.” He paused. “Have you told your friend any of this?”
“No. What does it matter, anyway?”
He started a speech that was meant to help you, but to be honest, you weren’t concentrating on the words. You were starting to realize that his voice sounded oddly familiar to you. You squinted, trying to figure out who he was. You didn’t know him, did you? You raised your hand to cover the top half of his face. Maybe if you blocked out his mask and just focused on his exposed mouth and jaw, you could figure out who he was.
“What are you doing?” he asked, noticing your arm randomly hanging in the air.
“Shhh,” you quickly hushed. “I’m thinking.” You observed him for a few more moments—surely you’d recognize that jawline! And then it hit you. Your hand fell back down to your lap and your stomach dropped. “Matt?”
“What?”
“Matt, is that you?”
“No, I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He started to walk away, but you caught him by the wrist.
“Is it really you?” You tentatively let go of his hand, but when he made no move to walk away, you dropped it completely. You slowly reached up towards his mask, expecting him to pull away, but he let you pull it off and over his head. Matt.
“I’m sorry,” was all he said when his face was finally free.
“But…how?” you breathed.
“It’s kind of a long story.”
“Oh my god. I can’t believe this.” You began pacing back and forth, trying to wrap your mind around what just happened.
“Y/N, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. If I could, I would have, but I was trying to keep you safe—”
You cut him off with a wave of your hands. “No, no, I’m not even freaking out about that.” In the back of your head, you realized you should be because how was any of that possible? Instead, you were panicking over the fact that you just told Matt you loved him. You couldn’t even bring yourself to say the words out loud. “I just…”
“Confessed your feelings for me?” You hung your head, too embarrassed to even look at him. His feet stepped into your line of vision before he grabbed your hands in one of his, lifting your chin up with the other. “I’m sorry I’ve been pulling away. It’s just…this Daredevil thing as already hurt so many people close to me. I didn’t want it to affect you, either.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” you mumbled, throat tight from being thisclose to crying. “I know you don’t like me back. It’s okay. Can we just go pretend this didn’t happen?”
“I don’t want to pretend.”
Your eyes snapped to his. “What?”
“I don’t want to pretend this didn’t happen,” he repeated. “I’ve loved you for a long time.”
“Are you serious?” you gasped. Your heart fluttered. You wouldn’t be able to handle if he were kidding, even though you knew he wasn’t the kind of person to do that.
“I’m very serious. Since prom.”
Since prom? That long? Your mind was overloaded. “I don’t…I don’t know what to say.”
But you didn’t have to say anything. You were pulled to each other like magnets, slowly inching nearer and nearer until your lips were on his. It was all you had ever waited for. And it was well worth the wait.
After a moment, you pulled back. “We have a lot to talk about.”
“I know—”
“But in the morning?”
“In the morning,” he agreed.
#matt murdock x reader#daredevil x reader#daredevil imagine#mcu imagine#matt murdock x you#matt murdock x y/n#matt murdock/reader#request#anon request#kayla rambles#mine
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An Eye for an Eye
Relationship: Thane/Garrus (pre-relationship)
Word Count: 1,426
Summary: When Shepard goes to speak with Sidonis, Thane stays behind with Garrus. After he lets Sidonis go, they have a talk while they're alone.
Warnings: Pre-Relationship, Canon-Typical Violence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt & Comfort, Mentions of Drinking, Survivor Guilt, Implied/Referenced PTSD, Grief/Mourning
Read it here on AO3.
His finger was itching to pull the trigger.
As Shepard turned away from the conversation, there was a brief moment where Garrus had Sidonis in his sights. He was caught in his crosshairs, and all it would take was a slight flex of his finger for it to all be over with.
All of those sleepless nights, forcing down the screams from nightmares, waking up in a cold sweat...
It was frightening.
When Sidonis described how every day has passed since leaving Omega, Garrus swore that he was listening to an audio recording of his day-to-day routine. It was something he would expect to hear from a biography or a memoir, a private journal perhaps.
Staring at Sidonis from afar felt like looking at himself in a mirror.
A shattered, broken mirror.
Garrus felt a hand on his, so he lowered the rifle.
Not once did he take his eyes off of Sidonis, not until he was out of sight.
He took a deep breath, but it offered no comfort. His chest hurt, and his eyes burned. Yet nothing he did seemed to help.
Thane sat beside him on the maintenance walkway, staring down at the crowd below.
"You did the right thing," he said.
Carefully, Thane took the gun away from him and set it aside, ensuring that the safety was on. He settled in by Garrus’s side, sitting cross-legged while he waited for him to recover.
Garrus swallowed thickly.
"I don't know," he whispered. "It doesn't feel like a victory."
"Forgiveness rarely feels triumphant, no matter how fulfilling fiction makes it out to be. To forgive someone, they had to have wronged you in some way to begin with, and being on the receiving end of someone's wrongdoings isn't exactly a pleasant experience."
Thane leaned his weight back onto his hands. Garrus hesitated but eventually followed suit.
Their fingers brushed. At first, they shied away from such a touch, but the longer they sat and talked, the easier it was to avoid second-guessing themselves.
Thane's hand curled around his, so Garrus flipped his over, making it somewhat easier to tangle their fingers together.
Garrus's heart pounded within his chest.
"I know what it is like," Thane explained, "to experience loss and seek peace through vengeance."
Garrus listened, but each beat of his heart brought nothing but pulsating pain.
All he wanted was to fold under the pressure, to curl in on himself and scream until his throat was raw.
He didn't know how much they had meant to him —really meant to him— until they were gone.
Two years, all down the drain.
"They were my family," Garrus croaked. His dual tones were shattered, distorted by his grief. "They were my men. Lantar was there from the beginning. He was—"
Garrus stopped short before he could go too far, but that was the thing about Thane. Thane didn't need to hear the words to understand.
He squeezed Garrus’s hand.
"I know," he murmured. "I know."
For a moment, neither of them said a word. Garrus eventually leaned his head on Thane’s shoulder, but Thane didn't push him away. If anything, Thane pulled him closer, wrapping his arm around him in acceptance.
Garrus buried his face into Thane’s throat and released a low, mournful trill.
Thane’s grip on him tightened, but Garrus had to ask.
He had to know that he did the right thing, whatever that may be.
"You—" He cleared his throat. "You said you know what it’s like to seek peace through vengeance.”
"I did," he stated matter-of-factly, "or closure, at the very least. Maybe I wasn't even looking for peace. I simply had to make her killers pay for what they had done."
Garrus paused, taking a second to process that.
"Did it make you any happier?"
"Some sadistic part of me, deep down, probably enjoyed it at the time, but ultimately? No. Then again, I didn't factor my happiness into the equation. That was never going to influence the outcome."
"Perhaps it should have."
"Perhaps."
Strange, wasn't it? That Garrus felt so safe, so comforted, in the arms of an assassin.
"Last question."
"Shoot."
"Did avenging her make any of the pain go away?" He didn't need to elaborate. Thane understood more than most the pain of loss, of grief. "Even a little?"
"No." There was no hesitation in his answer. "It's all still there, haunting my every step. I still see what remained of her when I close my eyes. Some days, it's easier to function if I don't focus on it for too long, but it's hard to ignore a gaping hole in one's soul."
Yeah, Garrus could understand that.
Even now, he could feel the blood on his hands. He could hear their last breaths rattling in their lungs. He could see their eyes go unfocused, staring off into the distance.
He could hear their spirits hiss, Why you?
Why did he get to survive? When all else failed, why was he the one who lived while everyone else suffered for his mistakes?
Seemed like Sidonis wasn’t the only one Garrus needed to forgive.
"What if I would have followed through?" Garrus asked, desperate to take his attention off of the voices whispering in his head. “I had a chance at the end there. It would have been so easy...”
He trailed off, uncertain.
Thane glanced down at him, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes.
Garrus reached out to wipe them away before they could fall.
Thane leaned into his touch.
"Hard to say," Thane told him. "After all, every person I killed was a stranger who I had no attachment to, an enemy and nothing beyond that. But, this Sidonis... He was your friend and your enemy. How would it have felt if it was you carving the hole into your spirit yourself?"
To that, Garrus had no answer.
"Something to think about, at least."
"Indeed."
For a while, they simply sat there together, watching the people stroll about Orbital Lounge, oblivious to the chaos that could have been.
"Well," Garrus sighed, "we better go meet back up with Shepard before she gets too worried."
He got to his feet and offered his hand, which Thane took without the slightest bit of hesitation. He might not have needed the assistance, but Garrus helped him up anyways.
As he pulled him to his feet, they stood chest-to-chest. Garrus marveled at how he towered over him. Then again, he towered over almost everyone on the squad.
Still, looking down at him, Garrus felt some of the pressure ease off of his heart. Pain lingered, but the partial relief was a welcome one regardless.
He didn't want this moment between them to end the second they left the lounge.
Thane had always been a tough shell to crack, but Shepard had been pushing him to start interacting more with the crew. Garrus hoped that, after today and what they had shared, they could forge a close friendship, if nothing else.
Without thinking, Garrus acted on an impulse, leaning his forehead against Thane's.
Thane stiffened, and Garrus was ready to retreat and apologize; however, before he had the chance to do so, Thane settled his hands upon Garrus’s waist. All of the tension that had built up in Thane's body was washed away as swiftly as it came.
Of course, Garrus grew flustered when confronted by such an easygoing acceptance, yet the intensity of Thane's gaze had him pinned into place.
Never had someone touched Garrus's waist so casually, especially in public.
It coaxed a soft, crooning noise from the back of Garrus’s throat. Something that he was quick to muffle as heat filled his face.
The hide under his plating was starting to take on a bluish tinge, more concentrated around his throat.
Given Thane’s extensive knowledge of alien anatomy for the sake of his career, Garrus could only assume that he knew well enough that a turian’s waist was a soft, sensitive spot. A weakness to exploit.
In more ways than one, so it seemed.
"So, uh—" Garrus stammered, trying to collect what shreds of dignity he still had intact. "You know, after this, I'm gonna need a drink."
Thane chuckled, a sound that spread warmth throughout Garrus’s body.
"Or several," Thane corrected. "And after I deal with this business with my son, I figure I'll be in the same boat. Want to join me in Life Support after?"
Garrus didn't need to be asked twice.
"I wouldn’t miss it for the world."
#mass effect trilogy#mass effect 2#mass effect legendary edition#thane krios#garrus vakarian#lantar sidonis#commander shepard#thane krios x garrus vakarian#thane x garrus#vakarios#is that the ship name?#hell if i know#😂#my oneshot#my fanfic#my writing
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Burnout
Fred Weasley x reader
Summary: Y/N has been pushing herself past the limit with school work. When Fred notices her unusual behaviour, he decides to intervene. But what happens when Y/N snaps and says some things that could possibly destroy their relationship and friendship?
Words: ~2.5k
Warnings: angst, fluff?, mentions of anxiety attacks, lack of self-care
A/N: “What is this crap?” you ask. I don’t know myself 😂 this started off as one thing and ended up being something different. It really is not my best work. I don't know what I've written myself. I’m confused. Might delete it later, idk. But I hope you enjoy it xx
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“Good morning love,” Fred Weasley greeted his girlfriend with a kiss to her cheek as she sat down at the Gryffindor table on a Friday morning at the Great Hall.
“Hi,” Y/N Y/L/N mumbled quietly without looking at him. She reached out to grab a piece of warm toast and spread some butter on it before taking a bite. She poured herself a glass of milk, gulping it down as she munched on her piece of toast as quick as she could.
Fred frowned at Y/N’s unusual behaviour. She’d usually greet him back with an enthusiastic ‘good morning’ hugging him tightly, proceeding to make a joke which would make his laughter echo through the Great Hall on a quiet morning. He shrugged off her behaviour, reckoning she must be stressed about the Transfiguration test that afternoon.
Y/N continued to gobble up her food at a speed that was not healthy.
“Slow down, Y/N. We don’t need you choking early in the morning,” joked Lee Jordan, eliciting a chuckle from the twins.
“Shove off, Jordan,” Y/N clipped back. She shoved down the remaining bits of the toast before getting up and stringing her bag over her shoulder.
“Where are you going?” Fred asked.
“I need to go talk to Professor Flitwick about the assignment he gave the other day. I’ll see you guys later,” she said, leaving in a hurry.
This made Fred concerned, wondering what was going on with his girlfriend. She left without giving him a kiss goodbye; that never happened. Before he could ponder more on the topic, George pulled his attention back to a prank they’d been discussing throughout the week.
And the topic was forgotten. For now.
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Y/N sat close to the Black Lake in the company of Fred, George and Lee. Sitting cross-legged, she leaned her elbows on her knees, fingers tangled in her hair, pulling at it in frustration. Her eyes scanned the open books strewn around her, searching for something to write on the blank piece of parchment perched on her lap.
“You’re coming to Hogsmeade tomorrow, right Y/N?” asked the younger twin.
Y/N looked up, a confused look on her face. “Huh?”
“You’re coming to Hogsmeade tomorrow?” questioned George once again, dragging his words out slowly.
“Oh. Um no,” she said, her attention already back to the books in front of her.
Fred’s grin dropped into a frown, his eyebrows scrunching together. “What? You promised you’d come this time. You’ve missed out on every single Hogsmeade trip this year.”
“I have a lot of work to do,” Y/N replied, barely paying attention to the conversation she was a part of.
“You’ve been working since the beginning of the year. You need a break, love.”
“I can’t afford to take a break, Fred,” huffed Y/N, her eyes moving to look at the ginger beside her. The dark circles under her eyes looked more prominent in the evening light. The exhaustion and lack of sleep clear on her face.
“You’re being unreasonable. You can take one day off.”
“No I can’t,” snapped Y/N aggravated, “Just because you don’t care about graduating and your future, doesn’t mean everyone else doesn’t either.”
Fred’s face contorted in anger, her words hitting straight home. He got up and stormed away without another word.
George and Lee looked at Y/N disappointed before leaving too, chasing after Fred. Y/N sighed before looking down at the blank parchment on her. She pulled at her hair as she let out a small scream of frustration. Tears that had started to gather in eyes began to flow down her cheeks. She tore the parchment into pieces, throwing it away. Y/N had begun to tremble as she pushed the books around her, attempting to throw them away from her. When there were no more books in close proximity, she curled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, resting her forehead against her knees as she continued to cry.
Y/N’s fingers and toes beginning to freeze but her armpits and palms were sweating, feeling as if the temperature had been turned up a few notches. The world around her blurred out; no longer comprehending her surroundings. The only sound she could hear were her sobs as she gasped for breath. She could feel her heart thumping in her ears, the sound so loud that it almost drowned out the sound of her sobbing gasps. Her chest ached from the lack of oxygen. She could taste the salty tears streaming down her face onto her lips, feel the cold tears travelling to her jaw and down her neck. Any attempt to wipe her face clean was carried out in vain; the tears she wiped were replaced with double the amount.
“Y/N?” she heard a voice call out in the distance.
“Merlin! Y/N breathe with me okay?” the voice sounded nearer, however as if underwater, “Look at me. Y/N, look at me.”
A warm, soft hand rested on Y/N’s cheek guided her face to turn and face the voice’s owner. Y/N’s eyes focused onto the brown eyes of Ginny Weasley.
“You’re okay, Y/N. I’m here. Breathe. You can do that for me right?” she questioned softly, her voice still sounding underwater.
Y/N managed to get a small nod through her panic.
“Breathe in… 1 2 3... Breathe out… 1 2 3... Breathe in… 1 2 3... Breathe out… 1 2 3...” instructed Ginny, “Yes, just like that. Breathe… 1 2 3...” Y/N concentrated on listening to Ginny’s counts, attempting to breathe along with them. Soon enough, Ginny’s voice started to sound clear; Y/N feeling that her head was finally surfacing from the water she was drowning under. After a while, her breathing had started to regulate. A few gulps of air later, Y/N turned her attention to Ginny.
“Thank you,” Y/N muttered, quietly. She glanced away from the ginger-haired girl, not being able to hold eye contact due to the situation she had been caught in.
“You don’t need to thank me. I’m just glad I walked by at this time,” said Ginny with a soft smile. Y/N returned a small smile of her own.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Are you sure? Can I do anything?” Ginny asked, concerned for her brother’s girlfriend; someone whom she saw as her own sister.
“Yes. I’m fine now. I- I think I just need to go and rest for a while. Thank you, Ginny. I’ll see you later,” she said, gathering up her books hastily and leaving.
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Things had not gotten better the past few days. If anything, they had become much worse.
Fred and Y/N had not talked, only sparing glances at each other when the other wasn't looking. Though she had not mentioned what she had witnessed that day to anyone, Ginny was worried about Y/N; even more when she noticed her and Fred were currently not on speaking terms. George was concerned for both his twin and best friend; Fred was in a constant bad mood and Y/N looked worse for wear. The bags under her eyes looked darker, her skin beginning to turn sallow, her hair unkempt. George hardly saw her eating when she turned up to the Great Hall during any meal, sneaking a few bites in before leaving in a hurry. To say he was worried about her would be quite the understatement.
Y/N felt awful. She could barely get out of bed in the mornings. She was constantly tired, barely paying attention in classes. She couldn’t concentrate on anything, constantly wanting to do nothing but go back to bed. She continued to cry herself to sleep every night, like she had been for the past few weeks; the reason as to why she did not know. Her body ached all over, her head being the worst. She felt lethargic, not having any energy to even pick up a glass of water. She was falling behind on her work, her grades were slipping - they had been for quite a while.
Y/N knew she needed a break. But instead she continued to push herself, the thought of taking a break and falling even more behind or the idea that her grades would worsen not allowing her to have a moment of peace.
The fact that she was fighting with Fred, not having talked to him for a few days, was not helping. She knows she was in the wrong, she should apologize and tell him what’s going on. But for some reason, she didn’t want to admit that she was struggling. Not because she was egoistic, but because she felt she constantly had something to prove. Education was the only thing she excelled in, if she lost that she felt she would be nothing. She was embarrassed to ask for help; she did not want to appear to be a burden to him, to anyone.
“That’s enough!” said George one morning to his older brother. “You both can’t keep going on like this. You need to talk to each other, you’re both miserable.”
Fred sighed, looking away from his breakfast. “I know.”
“Well then, what are you waiting for!? She’s right there,” George said gesturing towards Y/N, sitting at the end of the table with Angelina and Alicia.
He knew he had to talk to her. Fred had noticed something was wrong for weeks now. He knew she was stressed out due to school, crumbling under the pressure and expectations she placed upon herself. But he didn’t want to force himself on her, so he’d decided to wait for her to approach him first. What she’d said had hurt him, no doubt about it, but he knew that she didn’t mean it. It was the outcome of a moment of anger. He had seen her the past few days around the castle too, struggling to carry on with her day. But he was afraid to walk up to her; afraid that she would lash out at him again. Afraid that the angry words that would follow, from both their sides, would worsen the situation.
Taking a deep breath, he walked down the table towards where she sat. Angelina sent him a small smile noticing him walk up to their small group. Fred paused for a moment, gathering up the courage to speak.
Y/N jumped at the unexpected sound of someone clearing their throat loudly behind her. She turned to see her boyfriend standing there, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked the same, a bit more troubled than she’d ever seen. He’d developed dark circles under his eyes; an indication he hadn’t been sleeping well, not that she had been either. Other than that, he still looked the same - the same boy that she’d fallen in love with.
“Can we- can we talk?” he asked nervously.
Y/N stared at him for a second before nodding. They both walked out of the Hall and through the corridor before entering an unused classroom. Fred shut the door behind him. The both of them did not speak a word, fidgeting as they gazed around the room, gazing everywhere except each other. Fred decided to take the initiative and start the conversation that was long due. But it seemed Y/N had made the same decision.
“I’m sorry,” they both said at the same time. They both chuckled, the tension in the air disappearing.
Fred moved closer to Y/N, using the few seconds to come up with what to say.
“I’m sorry. I- I shouldn’t have said what I did. It was completely out of line and I didn’t mean it. I could never mean something like that. You- you know I didn’t mean it right? I was just frustrated, and I know that still doesn’t excuse what I said but I’m sorry. I am so so so sorry,” said Y/N, tears brimming her eyes. She took a shaky breath trying to calm herself down.
Fred closed the distance between them, cupping her face in his hands.
“Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean what you said. I understand, love. It’s okay. Don’t cry, please,” he said softly, his thumbs drawing circles on the soft skin of her cheeks.
“I really am so-” Fred leaned down, cutting her off with a kiss. Y/N’s hand moved to hold Fred’s forearms before slowly moving up his arms to rest on his shoulders. Fred broke the kiss after a while, resting his forehead against hers as his hands moved down to her hips.
“You have nothing to apologize for. I shouldn’t have pushed you. I know you’ve been stressed over school; I should’ve been more supportive.”
Y/N shook her head. “No, you-” Fred cut her off with another kiss.
“How about we both stop apologizing and just agree it was no one’s fault, purely circumstantial?” he said.
Y/N hesitated before sighing and nodding knowing she would not win. “Brilliant,” said Fred, pulling her close to wrap her up in a hug. They stood there for a while, basking in the feeling of being in each other’s arms - their favourite place to be in the world - after days.
“You know you can come to me for anything, right? No matter how small or stupid you think it is, you have nothing to be embarrassed about with me. And no, you will not be burdening me. I’d be more than happy to help you,” Fred said, pulling away from the hug but still keeping Y/N at a close distance in his arms.
Fred smiled endearingly at the look of surprise that crossed Y/N’s face as she looked up at him. She really thought she’d done a better job at hiding how she felt but it seemed like Fred had seen through everything, just like he always did.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t find out? I care about you, Y/N,” Fred said, his hand tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear gently. His hand remained there, cradling her face, “I notice every miniscule thing about you, whether you want me to or not.”
Y/N averted her eyes, ashamed of herself. How could she ever think Fred would ever judge her badly? The boy whose eyes shined with love and adoration whenever his gaze fell upon her. The boy whose face lit up with the thought or mention of her. The boy who would be ready to give up anything and everything for her, including his dream of owning a joke shop.
“Just promise me you’ll take one day off,” Fred implored. “We can do whatever you want, wherever you want. You need to take one day to relax, love. You can’t keep overworking yourself like this.”
Y/N looked up and nodded with a smile. Fred smiled back, delighted with her compliance, leaning down to press a kiss against her forehead.
“I love you,” he mumbled against her skin.
“I love you.”
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Rapture is a Boy (8)
Summary: Remus and you have always had a playful, loving relationship but his behavior around the full moon leads you to assume the worst. A huge fight ends with the two of you heartbroken. Will Remus reveal the truth behind his behavior? And will you still love him afterwards or has he truly lost you forever?
Young Remus Lupin x Reader(neutral)
Warning: FLUFF, so much fluff you could drown in it, self-doubt (brief)
Authors Note: This is the last part, which is crazy to me, I truly hope yall love it. This series is dear to my heart because it has allowed me to meet and talk to you and so many other amazing people! You all mean so much to me, and Remus is my lil baby too. I can’t even express how much I appreciate and love you all <3
Word Count: 5k
Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven
Part Eight
****A Stag, a Rat and a Dog***
Remus POV
“That was-” Peter couldn’t even finish his sentence, he just laughed, he laughed so loud it was hard not to join in with him. James pat his back and nodded, wiping some of the blue glitter off on his shirt.
“Right, mate.” he agreed. Sirius was bouncing in his spot, none of our smiles breaking or dimming. “Another notch under the belt of our legacy of awesome,” he all but sang, all of our cheeks still flushed from this morning. He hit Sirius’s arm and they began to race up the stairs, Peter and I followed, jogging after them. “Lily loved it too!” he added, smiling even bigger at just the thought of her, he was beating Sirius.
We all stopped running and Sirius was scowling, he lost, we all stood at the portrait when Sirius turned to me. “Worked well on (Y/N) too,” he stated, smirking at me and making a sexual motion with his hips, James laughed and I pushed him. “Ew, your palms are sweaty.”
“We’ll excuse me, ABBA sweats no doubt after giving the performance of a life time.” I say while James says the word and the painting opens for us. “Besides, it has worked for now. But they are still oblivious to the truth. I might lose them all over again, once they know.”
The mood seemed to darken at this realization. Not everyone is as understanding about my condition as the boys. That’s the real reason I couldn’t stop sweating, and if the boys looked close enough they’d see I couldn’t stop shaking ever so slightly too. I just got (Y/N) back, I’m not sure how well I’d be able to cope with losing them a second, and final time. My heart broke just at the thought, and at the very realization that I might have to prepare myself for such an outcome.
“Mate, (Y/N) is one of the people in this world that loves you most. Besides us of course,” James smiled softly, trying to lighten the mood whenever he could, “I doubt, that anything could make them think differently of you. You’re not just your condition. You’re Remus feckin Lupin!” The other boys cheered in agreement as we stepped into our dorms, Peter even went as far as rubbing my shoulders to build up my confidence, he saw a trainer do it to a wrestler on muggle TV once.
“And we’ve got a romantic feckin plan!” Peter cheers, still excited about what is yet to happen. I swallow thickly once more, this day could be one of the best in a while, or the absolute worst. I guess we’ll know tonight.
“Yes, and are you guys sure you are okay with this?” I ask, for the fifth time. James rolls his eyes, and Sirius bangs his head on the dorm room wall.
“Yes, Moony. Yes. Yes. Yes. We are okay with this for the millionth time. (Y/N) is our friend too, and all we want is to see the lot of ya happy again, so will ya shut up about it. We already agreed, mate,” Sirius says, looking up just barely lifting his head from the wall.
“And we don’t like lying to (Y/N) either,” James says, Peter nods with each word falling from their lips, as he tugs on pants and grabs a new, not bedazzled, robe.
We were still talking and going over plans for tonight when we left for first period. The common room was quite expect for our meshed whispers and loud footfalls, it wasn’t until the painting door swung open that we heard another sound. An all too familiar sound.
Professor McGonagall cleared her throat before us. Her hands folded in at her chest and her pointed eyes trained on us, unblinking. We all swallowed thickly, our fear and respect for her almost overwhelmed our courage and friendliness towards her. Almost.
“Did ya enjoy the concert, Minnie? I was singing just for you.” Sirius said, smiling and trying not to laugh as her expression remained unmoving. James joined in and I nearly rolled my eyes, but a smile found it’s way onto my lips nonetheless.
“Yeah, we saw ya a-tap-tap-tappy your toes!” He says, doing a little dance. I was amazed by her ability to not even crack a smile at our enthusiasm, but then again, this was nothing new to her. “ABBA gets to the best of us doesn’t it?” As if on cue, Sirius was speaking again. I fought my smile and faked a sullen expression, fingers crossed behind my back, this was the part where one of us tried to weasel our way out of trouble.
“Exactly, our hearts were in it Professor, truly we had good reason and we weren’t hurting anyone. Shame. Just a shame Dumbledore gave us detention, any more severe punishment just wouldn’t make any sense.” She raised a brow and in a last attempt I put in a word of my own.
“But you’re always so sensible Ms. McGonagall. I’m sure your punishment for us will be well-deserved. Perhaps our outfits were too flashy?” Peter chuckles beside me, and shows her the inside of his robe.
“But this one isn’t at all. Ya see?” He shows her adamantly until she raises a hand and we are drowning in silence, she made us sweat in our palms and neck before speaking.
“Yes. It appears your shenanigans are over. But Lucy is still in the hospital wing scrubbing at her skin, the smell is pungent and unmoving. It seems, Sirius,” She turns to face him, his adam apple bobs, “You did hurt someone. The real shame is that you don’t seem bothered by that fact. Follow me, boys.” She said, turning on us, her robes nearly swinging up and hitting our shins. We follow wordlessly and with our heads down, her words bothered us a little, what really stung was the disappointment on her face and in her frown. (Though Sirius swears he heard her singing along).
She went to Peter’s class first, he went to follow her inside but she raised a hand and said “Oh, you won’t be going to class this morning, Mr.Pettigrew.” She excused Peter herself, whispering into the teachers ear. My heart sank at the realization that I would not be seeing (Y/N) again this morning, James eyes me, my mood obviously changed. I couldn’t even spend any time with them before tonight, our lunch would serve as detention as well. I might never get to see them again after tonight, couldn’t even enjoy this little time I have before the truth is out. I won’t be able to be at peace until tonight or maybe even after, because who will love a monster?
For the rest of the morning we were locked in McGonagall’s empty classroom, writing out letters of apology to be given to Lucy in person later that day. And attempting to come up with a charm or some potion that would reverse the long lasting affect of the Stink Bombs that we have created. Wouldn’t be a marauders prank unless everything was well crafted, would it? But now, our little spell seems to be our downfall. Luckily, we found the right reversion potion, and it was taken to Madame Pom. immediately. By the time we were allowed to leave, the bell for second period had just rang.
I sat through my classes with sweaty hands, and bouncing legs. I agonized in the silence of detention about all that could go wrong, several times I re-debated whether I should really tell (Y/N) the truth, but it was clear that I needed too. I have lied for too long, and it has cost me too much. The truth will set me free...or at least I hope it will. I sat through my very last classes feeling both sick, and determined. Before we knew it, it was dinner time and James, Sirius, Peter and I snuck out of the castle for our final act of salvation. Our last attempt to make things right.
Your POV
The ground was rocky and uneven below my feet, between the clumps of dirt and hidden rocks this trip to Hagrids hut felt more like a mountain climbing experience than anything else. But my breathing was not ragged and exaggerated because of the walk, no, it was because ever since this morning my heart has been beating out of control. I’ve been breathless and filled with both anxiety and warmth since Remus kissed my cheek and handed me this note.
Tonight will mark either the end or the fresh start of our relationship, of our friendship...of our love.
My head is spinning as I stumble over a pumpkin root. What has he been hiding from me? Is it something bad, or big, or maybe something he is just blowing way out of proportion? What if the truth pulls us apart even more than the lies?
I shake my head in an attempt to free myself of this anxiety that swells in my stomach like a churning sea. Whatever it is, I will face it with patience and love, but also self-respect. I repeat this to myself until before I know it, I am at Hagrids hut. The walls of his house seemed to mountain over me, it smelled strongly of firewhiskey, burning firewood,rich dirt and sweet pumpkins. The smell did wonders in calming my mind, but I rather large frown makes its way onto my face as I look around. There was absolutely no one in sight.
I cuss under my breath. Maybe this is the wrong place. Maybe Remus is late? I chew at my bottom lip and take a few large steps around the hut, my eyes keep going back to analyze the trees of the forest. The shadows of the forbidden forest seemed to reach for me. It called for me. As if it was a whirlpool sucking me in I stepped towards it, staring into the layers of dark, large trees.
I held my breath as a bush by the very edge of the forest shook, rustling leaves and snapping twigs filled the brisk night air. I shivered, whether it was from the cold or the sudden fear I was not sure, but I did not have time to debate my feelings because suddenly, a canopy of dark green vines, hanging from the trees shifted.
Large, cream horns parted the vines and drooping tree leaves, a particular branch got stuck on the intricate swirling of the horns and snapped completely as the creature stepped further from the shadows, revealing itself to me.
A beautiful Stag stood proud, it’s thick coat shone under the moonlight, it’s chest puffed out at me with pride. The horns only added to it’s graceful height, but it’s eyes are what truly took my breath away. Those round, warm eyes they were so human. So familiar. Before I could debate it any further, the Stag stamped it’s hoof in the dirt softly, it snorted and white air swirled around it’s soft face. Only then did I notice the beautiful yellow rose, plucked from a bush and resting at it’s front legs.
I bring a shaky hand to my mouth, barely able to comprehended the wave of emotions that nearly knock me to my feet. This was of Remus’s doing. But...how? The Stag inclines it’s head curiously at me to the right, it’s large ears flicking with some sort of impatience, or unrest. Only then did I fully seem to understand the familiarity of this creature.
“James?” I gasp. The Stag seems to stand even taller at me, and...smiles. With my mouth still hanging wide open I let out a boisterous laugh. “James!” I almost yell, the Stag snorts again and leans it’s head down, using his nose to push the rose towards me. The movement doesn’t help me get over my shock, but it stirs me into action. I begin to cautiously walk forwards, and as I do the Stag er, James, picks up the rose between it’s teeth, when I am close enough he softly nuzzles it into my hand. I grip it tightly, it has already been de-thorned.
Carefully, with my free hand, I reach it out just a few inches in front of me and James places his Stag head onto my palm. I pet him softly, he stares up at me and it was as if I was staring at James himself.
“You clever bastard!” I exclaim, I knew how hard becoming Animigus is, but why would he do such a thing? I was broken out of my trance when the Stag (James) begins to walk, slowly at first, he looks back at me and inclines his head first and it was as if I could just hear him saying, in his cheeky manner ‘Ladies first, of course,”
I swallow thickly and fight another bout of paralyzing shock, and instead smile, following James through the forest. His hoofs sinking softly into the ground, the sound was methodic and helped with the strange over pour of emotions I’m feeling.
What happened next, is actually quite embarrassing. It started with a little scamper by my feet. Considering how far we’ve walked into the forest I was more than a bit concerned for my safety, but the large, strong Stag beside me cast most of my fears to the side. Then, through a break of moonlight through the trees I saw it. A large, fat rat!
I screamed so loud, dark ravens flew from their slumbers in the trees. James beside me stomped his feet, and checked the perimeter with analyzing eyes, searching for the danger. But they only found the rat. I never thought a Stag could give such an amused, disappointed expression, yet here I stand. Clinging to a deers ass for dear life, and he is looking back at me with said expression. My cheeks flush and I let go of his furry back, then the Rat very slowly inches towards me.
It’s sharp nose lifting and dancing from side to side, it’s soft brown eyes sparkling up at me. I’d say it even looked a little cute, friendly even. But what unusual behavior, and what unusual eyes. It’s tail glowing under the white light like a plump, pink worm...
“Wormtail!” I realize, laughter bubbling from my chest. The Rat lets out a gleeful squeak and James besides me snorts once again, seeming to laugh. The Rat scurried off into the shadows, and I can’t help but berate myself. Did I hurt his feelings?
But then he comes bounding back into sight, he stands on his back legs and his little Rat face seemed to glow with excitement as his pink hands unveiled a small little white wildflower. The same kind Remus would pick for me on walks we took together. My smile only grows bigger as I do a sweet curtsey and pick up the flower mid-bow, lifting it up to my nose as I stand straight again.
“My apologies, you know I don’t like rats. But I suppose I’ll have to make an exception for you.” I smile down at him, and he reveals two yellow buck teeth, smiling up at me with as much of a smile any rat can muster. I fail to hold in my laughter but extend my arm to him, he climbs up it and perches himself on my shoulder. I hold the two flowers in one hand, and rest my other on James soft shoulder, so I can be led through the dark forest, I knew by know, they were leading me to Remus.
Peter climbs down my other arm and onto James back, then up his head. I laugh as Peter holds on for deer(hehe I’m funny) life as James jokingly waves his head back and forth, Peter almost falls off but I help him back. We all seem to laugh in our own ways, when suddenly a loud bark cuts through the sound of laughter and owls and even the rustling of the woods around us. It was loud and impatient and yet humorous, it reminded me of someone I know well. I smirk, raising a brow I turn to the equally amused Stag and Rat, James and Peter.
“Wormtail. Prongs,” I say, motioning to the Stag who only inclines his head again, “And Padfoot. Let me guess... Sirius is also some animal wandering these woods, finding us by chance? A wolf, perhaps? A dog?” They don’t say a thing, they only begin to walk again. Turning us towards the sound of the echoing bark.
I was on the ground before I knew what was happening. We’ve walked just a few more minutes and then a cloud of black overcame my sense and tackled me to the floor. Black, Sirius Black, was a dog and on top of me. He was barking right by my ear and cuddling me, it wasn’t until two little Rat hands attempted to push his leg that he got off.
I was laughing uncontrollably, this was all too much. Too crazy. I knew they were geniuses, but this... becoming Animagus and though the reason was unclear I could feel it, something to do with Remus. With Moony. The nickname had a new meaning to me, and I wasn’t sure what yet, but I was sure I was about to find out.
Sirius was racing around me in circles as I stood up. His black tail wagging wildly, and his fur rustled and tossed under the wind. I wanted to coo and awe, though his eyes were human and mischievous, the rest of him was adorable and strong. A proud, handsome looking dog. It was clear, by his behavior, that he was just as excited to reveal this big secret, as I was to know the truth.
“Sirius! You dog,” I joke, a bad one on my part but he still barked with laughter and I shook my head, taking in the three of them. This was, Merlin, I didn’t even know what this was other than beyond surprising and impressive. Shocking.
Suddenly, Sirius makes one last dart behind me, he sends me in a spin and by the time I can control my footing he is back in front of me. He is sitting on his back legs, front paws up in the air and bent in a cute trick, his ears flopped forward. Just above his paws, drooping from the jaws of his mouth is a single daffodil. Daffodils, like the one written about in this favorite poem of mine that Remus would read me on bad days, I Wandered Lonely as A Cloud by William Wordsworth.
I sigh, tilting my head to the left, a soft smile on my lips. Everything about this was amazing and sweet. It was amazing that the boys had this whole other life I never knew about, which I’m sure there will be a reasonable explanation for my ignorance because ouch. But sweet, because this was obviously planned my Remus, but the boys were taking their own time to make it happen. I bend down and pat Sirius’s head, the only time he lets me touch his hair, I think, almost laughing. His tail wags as I pluck the flower from his mouth and he lets it fall easily into my hand.
I gather it with my other flowers, now forming a little bouquet and bring the whole lot of them up to my face and inhale. I close my eyes as I smell the sweet and powerful aromas, memories with Remus filled my head, and with it, a warmth filled my chest.
“I hope this hasn’t been all too much for you. I thought some truths would be better seen than told,” Remus says, walking up behind me. I spin around, I didn’t even notice the sound of crunching leaves behind me. But I couldn’t find it in me to speak, the moonlight dancing across Remus’s face, highlighting his eyes, and the soft curves of his lips with the ragged lines of his scars, I was astounded by the boy before me. Once again entranced. All the anxiety, all the fear has left me, as I stared at him clad in fancy pants and a button up to match.
He stops walking, unsure of where he stands with me. I step towards him, finding some clearing in the haze I begin to speak.
“It’s wonderful. They’re wonderful,” I say, turning with a thankful smile to the stag, the rat and the dog. They each in turn, show their teeth at me in an attempt of a smile. I laugh and beside me, Remus does too. With a nod of his head, they turn their backs on us and leave. I no longer needed guidance or safety. Remus stood before me and I felt something that has been missing for the past couple of days. And even though I was in the middle of the dangerous, forbidden forest, I knew that I was also home.
“I love the flowers. I must say, this night has already taken the most unexpected turn it could, but the nicknames definitely make more sense,” I attempt a bad joke, a habit of mine in a nerve wracking situation but Remus only seems to grimace slightly, before turning it into a smile, though it was a rather sad one.
“Well, you seem to be taking this well. Have you figured out mine yet?” He asked, his sad tone surprising me. We were so close his voice dropped low just out of habit it seemed, and because the short distance between us put us in a trance. I missed him. I missed him so much my body now seemed to come back from the dead and reach for him, I was alive again with dancing butterflies and buzzing questions. I glanced down to his lips, before taking a step back.
“No. But I can guess. It makes sense, once every month you seem to leave me. You change into someone who is distant, someone who doesn't seem to love me,” He steps forwards, looking pained by this realization, but as I speak it becomes clearer to me, but I can’t yet reach the conclusion.
“I will never become a person who doesn’t love you. I will change and grow but you will be the one thing that remains. You don’t have to guess anymore, but I want you to know that my love for you will always remain, even if after tonight, we do not,” he speaks with such reverence, like our love was something scared to him and deep down, I knew I felt the same way. It is my first love, and if I can help it, than he will be my only lover until the day I die. All I can do is nod as he steps forwards again, I can see a bead of sweat roll down the apple of his cheek, he was about to tell me. I can feel the shaking of his hands as he places them in mine.
Suddenly, his unbreaking stare leaves me, and in place, find the bright moon. Twinkling in the sky and illuminating us in its wake. I understood in that moment, Moony. A boy mapped with scars. Moony. A boy plagued by nightmares, and insecurities. Moony. A tough, but oh so scared boy who seemed to hate the very night itself. Moony. The boy who changes during the month, and is gone completely on the full moon. Moony. Moony, the Werewolf.
I pull on his hands and gather him into my embrace, pulling back only to kiss him sweetly. The world becomes ours as our lips dance with one another to a song we’ve heard before. It is the song of him making love to me. It is the song of the poems he reads me and the flowers he picks. It is the song of the moons very envy as she watches us together. The song of lovers. It moves us. It moves my hands up his neck and through his hair. It moves his lips across my cheek and jaw and then down my neck. It moves the wind, and the trees around us. It pulls the moans from our mouths and then the confessions.
“My beautiful love,” Remus kisses the words into my skin, up to my lips. “My only love,” he mumbles into my lips, kissing me softly but his hands are bruising at my hips. As if I would leave him if he did not hold me close enough and for forever.
“I love you, Remus ‘Moony’ Lupin. I love all of you and all that you ever will be and all that you have been.” He pulls back from me, his eyes glazed with tears and a softness that makes my heart sing. He nods, and than he laughs. A tear falls from his eyes as his head leans back and he laughs, the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard. It was as if all his anxiety, and self-hatred has left him and in their place my words have nestled in. I love him. I love him. I love him.
“I’m a werewolf ya know?” he says, still laughing, he knew I made the connection. At this point it was pre-caution, I roll my eyes and kiss him again. The world is forgotten as we kiss, as we rejoin as one and as lovers. I pull back and softly wipe away his tears.
“I know,” I whisper into his lips, he smiles, giving me a soft kiss. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner, Remus?” I ask, pulling away from him. He frowns now, his cheeks red with blush, and lips to match.
“I thought I’d lose you forever. That you’d think I was some monster, or- or beast. You always looked at me like I was the world, and I was terrified one day you’d see the real me, and just- well, stop loving me altogether.” While he speaks his eyes still glitter with the promise of tears, and my heart sinks at his words.
“I think I understand your anxiety about it. I can’t imagine how hard it must be. But I would never stop loving you for such a thing, merlin, I don’t think anything could stop me from loving you. I never want you to feel the need to hide from me again, okay?” Remus nods into my hands, I still haven't moved them since I wiped away his tears, it seemed like more keeps falling each time.
“The boys became Animigmus to help with my full moons. It can get pretty bad… but ever since they have come along things really got better, really they did.” he adds when seeing my sad facial expression. My heart felt broken all over again at just the thought of Remus being in pain, alone and suffering. I swore in that moment, I’d do anything in this world to help make things better for him. I nod my head. He continues.
“And Lucy, her older sister is a werewolf. She figured out that I was one pretty quickly, she said I could speak to her about it all, and that she could help somehow. It was nothing more, she just let me complain and even write some letter to her sister. I never even thought of Lucy like the way I think of you. She was always just a friend, but that remains no more. To hell with her,” he says. He can’t stop smiling, a real, golden smile. There was nothing holding him back, I could just tell he felt so much lighter. I took his hand and wordlessly led him to sit on the grass with me. We laid shoulder to shoulder, staring up at the stars together.
He told me in depth about how he was bitten as a child, about how it changed his life. Then when the boys told him they were becoming Animgus for him and all the little moments and adventures they’ve had since. He didn’t sugar coat a thing, he didn’t lie. He was bearing his soul before me for the first time, without any thin veil holding us back and I’ve never felt closer to him. It was well past curfew by the time I felt satisfied with everything he’s told me, I felt both heavy with this knowledge and yet free. I felt included and like I truly knew Remus, and I still did love him. More than ever, I love him.
We laid in silence for some time, my head has moved to lay on his chest and I can hear the steady, warm beating of his heart.
“Can you hear it?” he asks, out of the blue. I strain my ears to listen to the forest around us, I lift my head slightly and he laughs. “No. My heart, can you hear it?” I lean back into him and let out a little laugh myself.
“Oh. Yes,” I smile, “I can hear it.”
“Good. It beats for you.”mhe says, I look up at him only to find that he has already been looking at me. His eyes soft, and smile warm, his heart steady under the palm of my hand and loud within the stillness of the night. It beats for you. His words echoed in my head and I couldn’t help myself, I lean forward and press my lips against him. I could kiss him forever. I could be with him here like this forever, alone and in love, honest and unafraid.
I understood a lot of things that night, more than just about who Remus was and the secrets he has been hiding. More than the truths that he bared and the love that we had. I understood how after all this time of separation and uncertainty. After exhausting ourselves in a sea of sorrow and questions, we have finally found our peace. I have found my happiness. And I realized something rather important. Rapture is a boy. Rapture is love.
Taglist:
@crazylokonugget @beyondprincess @1975weasley @nicodoesntexist @goto-hi-this-is-my-brain @yoyoitsbella @ftwert @sognatrice-as-a-hobby @dontjudgemyobsessionpls @blackpinkdolan
@holdenviolet @katie-lupin05 @acoustic-archie @trishizzl @accio-willtolive-lmao @ilistentotayswifttocope @kopheliablack
#young remus imagine#remus lupin#young remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#remus x reader#harry potter#harry potter fandom#the marauders#the marauders fanfiction#fluff#werewolves#pls im emotional this series is over#young marauders#i love yall
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Is That All I Am To You?
Summary: Thinking that her and Dean are exclusive, the Reader is proved wrong when Dean tells another hunter that they are only friends…
Warnings: The tiniest bit of fluff (and I seriously mean tiny). some serious ANGST. No happy ending. Arguing. Language. Crying. Lots of crying…
Word Counts: 1,682
Pairing: Dean x Reader, Former Dean x Reader
PROMPT: Is that all I am to you?
A/N: This is for the @jawritter 1500 Follower Challenge - Jen’s Make Me Cry Challenge - here’s the masterlist to it.
MAIN MASTERLIST ~ SERIES MASTERLIST ~ ONESHOT MASTERLIST
Four years. Four years that I have known Dean Winchester. Two years that we have been dating. At first it started out as a friends with benefits thing, which I was completely fine with if it meant I could spend time with Dean. But then it started to get serious, he started to take me on dates. We’d go to restaurants - just me and him, go play crazy golf, go on walks, stuff that couples would do.
A year down the line of the relationship, Dean gives me space in his room for clothes. Not that it really mattered if I had a drawer or not in his room considering my room was only down the hall. But most of the time I would sleep in his room, with his arms protectively wrapped around me as we slept.
Even Sam believed we were dating, it felt like we were dating - like it was all real. But I was so wrong, that I didn’t even realise that everything Dean had ever promised me was a lie. I should have seen it coming. Like come on, it’s Dean freaking Winchester. The one who gets around with all the women, never settling down, never dating anyone because it would have the worst outcome.
How couldn’t I have seen this? Why couldn’t I have stopped myself from falling for his charm years ago? I feel so naive and gullible. I know now that I can’t ever believe anything that man says. Ever again.
I have to leave, I have to get out of here.
5 Hours Earlier…
Meeting Sam at the bar, Dean and I walk in with his arm “possessively” wrapped around my waist, warding off any guys that would even think to get close to me. Sam sat in one of the corner booths of the bar far away from anyone. To everyone it looked like we were together, technically we were.
Joining Sam at the table, I was sat next to Dean leaning my head on his shoulder while he had one of his arms wrapped around mine. It was so clear to everyone that we were more than just friends. The lingering touches, the featherlight kisses on the forehead. Even the way he looked at me suggested that there was more than friendship. For the first time in a long time, there were no girls even attempting to flirtatiously glance his way. They knew he was taken. They didn’t even try to come over to get his attention, they knew they wouldn’t get it.
“Any new cases, Sammy?” Dean asked, as he grabbed onto one of the many beer bottles that was brought over to them, taking a large gulp of it.
“Man, I’ve looked but nothing so far, a whole bunch of others have taken cases and there’s just nothing at the moment.”
“Do they need any help?” Dean asked, clearly needing something to keep him occupied but Sam quickly shook his head.
“I’ve already asked, but you know what hunters are like, they’ve got their own partners to help them and they don’t need three extra hunters. But I’ll keep looking for cases, I guess we can just take this time off that we never get round to having.” Sam explained, lifting his own beer to drink, his eyes scanning the bar before noticing someone staring at them. “Hey, we’re being watched.”
“What… by who?”
“Don’t know, I’ve never seen him before, he’s just intensely looking at us from the bar.” I turn around to see the man sitting at the bar. Once he see’s me looking at him, he smiles. Gasping I realise who it is. “Y/n, you know who that is?”
“Yeah… my ex.” Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Dean slightly turns to see the guy who is staring at you.
“Bad ending?” Sam asked with concern, his eyes shifting from you to your ex and then to Dean.
“Not really. He’s not… a hunter. And it was a long time ago.” You started to explain to the boys.
“Are you going to go over?” Dean asked, masking his emotions with a straight face.
“Should I?” Looking up at him, trying to get a read on him but failing miserably.
Gulping, Dean looked from you to your ex before looking back at you. “Y/n, he’s clearly here to see you. You should go over there.”
“But I’m here with you guys… It’s fine, really. I’m with you. I have no reason to see him. It didn’t end well last time I saw him, which was when we broke up.”
“Did he know about the hunting life?”
“Yeah, that’s the main reason we broke it off.” I lie easily, not really wanting to explain my past.
“Maybe he’s trying to get you back, maybe he’s ok with you being a hunter.”
“Dean! I’m with you, I don’t need to go back with my ex… I’m already taken.”
“Yeah but we’re not really together, together…”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” You raise your voice slightly, hoping this isn’t where it’s really going.
“Dean, st-“ Sam started to say before Dean interrupted him.
“We’re only friends with benefits.”
“So, what two years of being together - friends with benefits or not, and not once id you think that with all your actions showed that this was more than friends with benefits. You don’t take a friend with benefits on dates. Let me guess in all of this whole ‘friends with benefits’ thing, you’ve been seeing other people haven’t you?”
“Y/n…I’m sorry that you thought there was more to this-“
“No. What you did was lead me on. I’m going back to the bunker.” Getting up from my seat, I quickly grab my stuff before heading out towards the door. My ex immediately heading towards me, and I couldn’t even stop the eye roll from forming.
“Hey, Y/n. It’s been a while.” He stops in front of me, blocking me from the exit and now i’m suddenly remembering why we broke up in the first place. Anyone would think that we broke up because I was in the hunting life and he was not, something normal. But no, this cheating bastard thinks he has the audacity to think we will pick things up where it was left.
“Yeah, I guess. How’s Amanda?”
“Andrea, was her name.”
“OH right, that so silly of me to get the name mixed up of the girl you threw me away for.” I said bitterly, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Y/n, at the time we weren’t really together.” You could just feel like your brain wanted to explode at that very second, what was with men and not telling you what the relationship status was. Was it that hard to talk for them to talk to me? And why did I have such bad luck with men!?
“Yeah, I remember, I remember you so clearly saying that as you were banging that chick in our bedroom of the house we brought together!”
“Y/n…” He started to say grabbing my arm slightly to pull me towards him, before I so rudely pushed it away. “Don’t be like this. Remember all the fun we had together.”
“No. I don’t. Now if you excuse me, I have to leave. I’ve dealt with dickheads all evening.”
“Hey, don’t go. Come on, catch up with me.”
“No. I’m not going down that path again. What happened between me and you is now over. It’s been over for years.” Clearly not getting the message, he pulls me roughly towards him, before I kick him in the balls. I didn’t even realise one of the Winchester boys were behind me before Sam pulled me back away from my dick of an ex-boyfriend.
“Hey, she clearly said no. So leave her alone.” Sam defended, a glare placed on his face, I turned slightly to see where Dean was but seeing him at the other end of the bar chatting up a chick just made my blood boil. Here I was clearly struggling to get rid of my ex and he’s over there throwing what little we had left away like trash. From this moment I knew it was over. I knew we would never be together. And I knew I had to leave for good. No more would I fall for men like him.
I could feel my eyes tearing up, blinking rapidly to hold them back from falling. My ex now left the area of the bar as Sam watched me with concern. “I’m going back to the bunker.”
“Do you want me to come with you?”
“No, I’ll be fine. I’m just going to get some sleep.”
“Ok…just call me to let me know you got back ok.”
“Of course.” Lying through my teeth as I give Sam a quick hug. With him never realising that this would be the last time he would see me. I leave the bar quickly heading back to place which will no longer be my home.
After 5 hours I had packed my things, grabbed anything and everything I had in Dean’s room and my old room to put into my car. My old car was sitting in the garage, where it had been left since the day I moved in here. I never really needed it when I had moved in, I couldn’t help the tears that fell down my face as I realise how much I will miss this place. The memories that I thought were good now turned to ash and dust.
I will move on from Dean Winchester. Sitting behind the wheel just made it all too real as Dean will never know how much I loved him but I have to leave, I can’t stay here knowing that he will never fully be with me not after everything that I now know. He’ll never know what he truly missed out on, holding a hand to my flat stomach, the life that was slowly growing inside of me. Dean will never know that he would have a child. Because he will never find me. Not ever again.
IF YOUR NAME IS CROSSED OUT IT MEANS I CANNOT TAG YOU FOR SOME REASON. ALSO FEEDBACK IS MUCH APPRECIATED!
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Thnks fr th Mmrs - (Event Fic)
++
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader
Warnings: Not that I am aware of. (Please let me know if something should be added later on.)
Summary: Just two idiots in love, but none of them have the guts to say it. Eventually one of them will do it, a bit late tho- but, better now than never.
A/N: HELLO!! Here I am, roughly one month after my last fic, this work got all of us busy, which lead to a bit of panic on the last days, but (I think) we made it all in one piece.
This work is part of the Fic Swap organized by @imagining-in-the-margins, with the help of @sunlight-moonrise! I’ve had the opportunity to write for @spencer-reid-in-a-pool- which is AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA, I love her so so so so much. This was awesome to do. (And yeah, for those who got the ref, the title is from one of fob's songs. I had NO other idea and found this one cool.)
Word Count: 8.7k
++
As much as I wished for it not to haunt me another day— I still had this one problem, written into my brain with bright red ink, unwashable, as it seemed.
I hated to recall that it still remained there, as if it was an unsolved case that someone would have put into archives and brought back up when they were clearing out the shelves.
Unfortunately, it didn’t get lost, I just forgot it was there, and my brain had the wonderful idea of presenting it back to me.
I appreciate it. That was— quite nice.
It wasn’t that I hated it, I just didn’t like the thought of having to deal with it at barely eight in the morning, just before actually dealing with the problem itself— in person.
That problem—couldn’t be someone else but the only one Spencer Reid, the resident genius of the team, or the baby sibling for some of my co-workers.
Once again, I do not dislike him, on the contrary, he’s one the closest person I have in my life to this day, I wouldn’t imagine my life without him.
The problem is mainly directed towards the love, sentimental kind of problem.
Especially when the concerned person isn’t aware of it.
It gets complicated when you can’t even hide your feelings when they’re near.
I get all nervous and weird when he’s in sight, the proofs are right there.
I remember them all, from the time I broke a mug when I tried to reach it as he was talking or when I almost fell down the stairs when he came in to work one day, looking like a literal god— and wasn’t even aware of it, the list keeps going on for miles.
And I’m still there, sitting with my feelings, waiting for something to happen.
I’m not even sure that he feels the same way.
I’m here, admiring him, thinking about what could happen if I could resolve myself to talk about it, if he felt the same way, but strangely and for an unknown reason; I can’t.
This issue has been happening all week, the last one, and probably the whole month.
It took me time to figure it out myself.
I only saw us as two good friends at first; we’d hang out together, had the same hobbies, have long conversations without caring about the time, to the point that people would think that we were together.
But I guess that I never realized that he could be more than just a good friend.
And as it couldn’t be more complicated, in these cases, if none out of the two dares to make a move, or talk, it won’t go much further.
Which is exactly what’s been happening at this moment..
I’ve been liking him for a while now, and my brain doesn’t know to do anything else but attack me with as many questions they can come up with at the same time whenever I dare to think about it.
What if he does like me, but only as a friend?
Is it going to be awkward between us?
Am I going to lose my friendship with him because of that?
What if he says no?
What am I left with? My stupid feelings that will keep wandering around, reminding me of my love failure?
If all of these are the things waiting for me till I decide to stop bottling it up, I better have to solve that, soon.
But at the same time, if I take a glance at the negative side, I’m just thinking that it’d be better to keep our friendship as it is, and just pretend as if he’s only a good friend I’m quite close with, not a possible lover.
Since when did I allow myself to see him as that? I wasn’t doing that before.
What caused my feelings to suddenly appear?
He’s always been nice to me, as with everyone else he’s close with, and as far as I’m aware of it, no one’s been in my situation.
If it ever happened, I’m sure that it was purely platonic and didn’t go as far as I’m at.
It’s as bad as a math problem.
Kind of ironic, considering I both suck at figuring out how to say I love someone, deal with feelings, all that love stuff; and at maths.
But, as I think about it further, he didn’t do anything to keep me from crushing on him either, even if he probably didn’t do it because he liked me.
There’s a 50% possibility.
He’d take me in his arms to reassure me, help me with paperwork when I was tired, offer to drive me home, re-filled my mug for me, act close, and by close- not as close as he is with the others.
A different kind of close.
So...who wouldn’t think that way, that he could like me?
He could possibly like me, but about that, I don’t have a single clue to know if he really does.
I do want to try to ask him, in one way or another, but the thing is that , if he doesn’t like me, what is going to happen next?
Awkward silence?
Is he going to try to reject me as nicely as possible to not hurt my feelings?
It could be really nice if anything would help me to make all of this mess any clearer.
I don’t want to end up drawing away from him because I can’t help but be in love with him whenever I look at him, but at the same time, I can’t say that I am, in case he’s not in love with me.
Spencer’s one of the most important people in my life; I wouldn’t imagine a day where I wouldn’t talk to him, and even if we’re busy, I try to say hi to him, at least.
I can’t quite imagine not having him ramble about his favorite subject, happy as hell because I’m interested, listening to him, and even participating in it.
I don’t want all of this to stop because of a mistake I could cause.
So, this week will be the one.
I’ll somehow resolve myself to bring up the subject.
I’m sure he’ll understand, he knows me better than anyone else in the whole team, has always been there when I needed someone, he’s always listened when I needed to talk, he helped me out with a lot of issues.
He’s always been understanding, whether the issue would concern him or not, so this shouldn’t be a big problem.
It’ll be fine.
I just have to relax sometimes.
I’m stressing out too much, and I’m pretty sure that he doesn’t stress that much about that, or any subject he might think about.
I even wonder if Spencer already noticed the changes in my behavior and is just waiting for me to talk about it because he doesn’t dare to talk about it as well.
He could feel the same way.
He could.
There’s a chance, a good one, I guess.
It can end well, and I have to keep thinking about the good outcome.
There’s no way he’d react badly, I know him,— Spencer is not the kind of guy to do that, in general.
I trust him on that.
So, today...or later, will be the right one.
It’ll go well.
It’ll be win or lose, basically.
I sighed as I looked at myself for the hundredth time for the past ten minutes, finally resolving myself to leave the apartment before I’d end up being late.
Which isn’t something I’d like to happen.
My ‘love problem’ counts as at least ten problems more than getting yelled at by a superior (if I’m not overreacting, at least) so I don’t really need that to happen, on top of that.
++
I have never been delighted to walk into the office, only to find paperwork from last week waiting for me.
We usually had the whole ‘Garcia runs into the office and throws papers at us before we gather in the conference room and immediately go on a jet at whatever unpleasant hour’ or just purely lazy days where none of us have the strength for any kind of celebration.
But today happened to be a calm one, we just had to do whatever task we had left to do before we can allow ourselves to go back home to either sleep all day to fix our long broken sleep schedule, or do whatever event we might come with, such as dates or trying to find a guy in a party, for some of us.
It’s nice that we don’t have to worry about when we’ll be able to come back to work, we just go in, do our task and go home at whatever hour, a decent one.
I’d say that this happened to be more than convenient -in a way- for Spencer and I.
More time for talking, hanging out together, mostly what we do when not on an active case.
If I’m not mistaken, I think that I may have heard one of them saying that we were dating because of how frequently we’d be found together.
I did want to say we were dating as a joke, but I was afraid that it’d end up being awkward after that if- as said earlier when I woke up-, he didn’t feel the same.
But at the same time, whether he feels the same way or not, I don’t really have a reason to think about that as Spencer wouldn’t react badly.
Knowing him, he’d probably play along.
At my arrival at the bureau; everyone was scattered a bit around; which wasn’t to be seen on a case day, usually.
We just had to hope we wouldn't have a surprise case to ruin it all.
As I greeted everyone before settling at my desk, I noticed one person missing.
Spencer wasn't usually late, so...I didn't really know what might make him late.
Knowing him, he may have woken up late because he had watched tv till 2AM, and ran to the coffee shop to not look dead at his arrival.
Yep, that’s him.
Let’s hope he won’t break a bone when he’s going to attempt to run to not be late, it’s...yeah.
So, don’t rush Spencer, it’s calm as hell here, you don’t need a trip to the ER so soon in the morning.
“Oh, hey!”
I turned around to be faced with Spencer, papers in hand. “When did you get there? I didn’t see you when I arrived like...five minutes ago. I thought you weren’t here yet.”
“Oh, I was doing copies. I’m sorry if I worried you, I should have sent a text.”
“No- It’s okay, don’t worry. You’re here...now.”
“Yeah, I’m here. Do you have a lot of paperwork? Figured out we could talk in between.” He asked.
“No, I don’t have a lot, and...sure, I could use a talk- I mean uh...talk, yeah.”
That was a shitty save.
“I’m glad, I didn't want to bother you if you were busy.”
“Even if my whole desk was covered in papers, you know I’d always find a minute to talk. I get easily distracted.”
Please don’t take it the ‘love’ way, or just...don’t think I get distracted by you in a ‘not-a-friend’ way— gosh, I’m not gonna be able to save it with whatever sentence.
“You know that’s the same for me. I always have a hundred subjects popping up just when I try to focus.”
“Yeah, same. It’s a bit...annoying.”
“Depends. It’s not really when you’re in them.” Spencer admitted.
Is this an attempt at killing me right on the spot? You’re really going to kill me by being so damn nice.
“Oh...really? I didn’t know.”
That was shit.
“Well uh...now you do that it’s not always annoying up there and that’s your part of the non-bothering stuff.” He pointed out.
“That’s the- same for you, yeah.” I answered, slightly nervous.
“Didn’t know we had that too in common, that’s funny.”
Not so sure about the other detail you don’t know about-
“We learn new stuff everyday at least. I guess it’s...useful to know? I don’t know.” I chuckled.
“Yeah, there’s not much to do with that information, it’s more of a...fact thing-y. You know I like that stuff.”
I raised my eyebrow. “Who doesn’t?”
“Yeah, everyone does at this point, but that’s a quarter of what they know, I think that you’re the only one that knows the most about me, not everyone.”
You have to stop before I drop dead on the floor right now.
“I have to remind you that it’s kind of the same for you.”
“People are definitely thinking we’re together at this point, we’re pretty close so they have every right to believe that.”
“Does it...bother you?”
“Oh, no, not really. You’re a pretty girl so that’s kind of...nice that they think that a nerd like me could be in a relationship with you.”
Okay, I just stopped functioning right now.
What am I supposed to even say? You’re a literal god, you’re handsome as HELL-
“Oh- you’re uh- good looking so, that’s...normal I guess.”
“You think so?” He asked, unsure.
Oh, please. Tell me you’re kidding, it’s impossible that no one hasn’t told you of your AMAZING handsomeness, the fact that you’re amazingly-
Yeah, we got it y/n.
“Yeah, really.” I confirmed.
“Thanks, I guess.”
“No problem, Spence.” I said, as we both went to our respective tasks.
At least I avoided a heart attack, that’s what matters, he just has to stop being so cute and pretty, all the time because I’m gonna have trouble acting like I’m not in fucking love with him if he keeps going.
Just- breathe, and focus on your work.
We’re gonna talk together, and it’s gonna be okay.
There’s no reason that a problem would occur, I just had a talk with him, and it went...almost perfectly smooth.
The ‘almost’ part is when I almost had a heart attack, which isn’t the first I’ve had with him, and won’t be the last.
If he would just stop being so handsome all of the time.
I sighed, reading the paper all over again as I lost focus...again.
As I was reading, my pen in hand and the tip of it slightly touching the sheet— I didn’t even realize that I had been scribbling on the paper, as if I was in middle school and bored in class all over again.
It was kind of….fun.
I didn’t get to do that everyday, so I’d say that it was diversifying compared to any other stressful day where these...doodles wouldn't even happen or to be thought about because of the amount and importance of the work.
I still think about him, even when I’m busy as hell though.
He’s always in my thoughts, I don't know how he does it because I’m pretty sure I don’t do that with anyone else in the bureau.
Is that kind of over thinking considered as an obsession or not at this point? I’m not quite sure of it anymore, but...it's not "psychopath, stalker-like", he's just an important person that matters to me.
I just really like him, that’s all.
He also told me that I tend to be in his mind often, so...I guess we're even.
I guess so.
“Hey, is everything...okay? You’ve been staring blankly for a...while. Is that my-” He started to point out.
I panicked, quickly hiding the papers with other ones. “What? Oh, uh...I was-” I blurted out. “...thinking.”
“You’ll probably have to...print out new ones. I don't think Hotch will accept papers with scribbles, you know. I can print out some copies for you, if you want?”
“No- It’s fine, I can go, thanks for asking! It’s nice of you but uh- I’m going.” I answered, as I abruptly clicked back on the software to print out copies, and walked to the breakroom after...awkwardly waving.
Why the hell was I scribbling down his name like I was...a middle schooler having a crush on her classmate?
I have no idea why, but this was...kind of embarrassing at the moment.
I seriously have to stop worrying about each thing that happens.
He probably didn’t care as much as I did.
I shook my head as I arrived in the breakroom, now empty as Luke and Matt had previously left from what I saw a bit ago when I looked in that direction.
I didn’t mind, at least I’d avoid embarrassment because of how weird my expression probably looks.
So, everyone, please don’t come now, wait until I pick up my papers, that’d be more than appreciated.
++
Should I call Spencer?
I don’t want to be a bother, I know he enjoys spending time alone off work.
Would he be happy to hear me?
I don’t know.
I’ll call him later, if I’m settled on it.
I’ve been pacing in that small apartment of mine for at least the last couple of minutes, or maybe an hour, I don’t have the habit of noting the duration of my nonsense usually.
I don’t even know why I’m pacing again and again just to decide about a call.
I’m sure he doesn’t even do that.
Does that mean it makes me...crazy?
Not necessarily.
It could.
Maybe.
I’ll just- whatever.
Do something useful like cleaning your apartment and answering emails, and you’ll see if you have a minute to spare to call Spencer.
That works that way.
See, you can stop stressing.
Just do another task to distract yourself and have less things to worry about, so it’ll be easier to decide about the ‘call matter’ thingy.
++
I did not call him, if that’s what anyone wondered.
The only call I made was with Penelope, after she called me numerous times to ask me about the books we’ve been yelling about for a few weeks.
I had supposed she had also wanted to talk about Spencer, as the whole office had been conspiring about our possible relationship.
But, she held it off, and cut the call after saying ‘I better hang up or I’ll be talking about the book for another decade’.
Kind of looks like me and my thoughts with Spencer.
I hope I’ll get to let all of those out, if we ever have the chance to have a talk about the feelings matter.
I never had that many ‘things matters’, I’m even inventing some new words along the way.
Crazy what love can do, if that’s what started it.
I can’t recall that either, I’ve been more focusing on the matter itself than the name of it.
Love will do, I guess.
++
“What are you up to?” I asked, peering over Spencer’s desk.”
“Well, technically...nothing new. I’ve been reading that for the past week, I tend to do that with books I really like.” He closed it, looking at me. “Is that weird?”
“Not at all. I’m doing the same with shows and movies, and even- who cares if it’s weird? If we like doing that, we don’t have to worry about what others might think about it.”
“You’re right, I shouldn’t worry that much.”
“I worry about small things too, you’re not alone on the ride.” I pointed out, sitting back at my desk.
“Glad to know I have someone I’m sure won’t judge on that.”
“I would never judge you on anything, well- aside from the ‘sugar’ matter we’ve been having for a while, nothing else.”
“You’ll be debating about it for a while then. I’m not about to stop having my ‘sugar with my coffee’, as Morgan says.”
“The amount you put in it is disgusting.”
“Not to me.”
“Well it is to me, and probably everyone else. How do you not get sick?”
“No idea. I’ve been doing that for years and never had problems of any kind. Maybe you’re all the ones that are weird.”
“Hey! You’re weird too. If you wouldn’t be, I wouldn’t be talking with you.”
“I’m less weird than you, at least.”
“Pff. Just get back to work, weirdo.”
I love you, weird genius.
++
No, I didn’t get to talk to him about the…’love matter thingy’.
We did spend a lot of time together but I didn’t get the nerve to find a way to ask, instead of going straight to the thing.
I have no idea if I was imagining things or if it was real but...he did look a lot like me, and...his look wasn’t the kind of look you’d give a friend.
He also seemed...nervous, I guess?
Would it be wrong for me to think that he could possibly like me, as well?
That’s better than always thinking he doesn’t, a little hope doesn’t hurt, it’s always nice to think on the bright side for once.
Maybe I could be right.
I kind of hope I am.
++
I didn’t think till now that it would be such a relief to see my whole desk cleared from most of the papers.
I’ve turned in most of my reports- and that kind of sounds like I’m talking as if I’m in school and turning in assignments at the end of the day to be honest.
All of the papers that laid around were gone, and it kind of seemed like the work day had reached its end.
It kind of was a nice day, it’s nice to have days like that from time to time to take a break from all of the stress and shit from cases.
As I had gathered back all of my stuff, and all that was in mind was to walk out of here and rush to my apartment.
Just as I turned around, Spencer was standing in front of me; I didn’t even see him come by.
“You- gosh, you really scared me. Speak up next time.” I said, nervously laughing.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to- Did you uh...get hurt?”
“No, I didn’t have- get anything. I’m okay, thanks- Are you going home too?”
“Yeah, yeah, I am and...I also-”
“You also…?”
“I wanted to talk to you...again, about something.”
I feel like that ‘something’ might be the ‘something’ I’ve been wanting to talk to you about for weeks.
“Uh, go ahead, I guess. I can’t really start the conversation as I have no idea what it’s about…”
“Okay, uh...I’ve been uh, wanting to ask, for a while, if you wanted to hang out, sometimes. I know we do, pretty often, but I’d be like...hanging out together, maybe dinner...” He looked elsewhere, searching for his words.
“...you mean a date? Is that...what you want to say?”
“Yeah, that! I just- I thought I’d be weird to ask you, just like that. I mean...it’s kind of random and I thought that- you understood the thing.”
Please, that’s what I’ve been thinking about for a decade, how could I not understand that-
“It’s not weird, I’m just...surprised?”
“Oh, I’m- glad? I just...didn’t think you’d accept and...I was kind of afraid that I’d make a fool of myself by asking you that.”
“Wait a minute though- You’re really asking me out, right now? I’m not making fun of you, it’s just still...wow.”
I just thought you would never do it, or that I’d be the one asking and receiving a negative answer.
“I swear that I’m not. I’d never joke about that, especially to you, and since I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I guess I was afraid of the answer.”
“Please don’t laugh, or anything but...kind of the same thing was happening to me, about you.”
“So...we’ve been thinking about it, and none of us knew? Wow, that’s...I didn’t think that was happening all this time.”
“Seems so.”
“Have you been uh...thinking about it for a while, like me?”
“Kind of...yeah. I’ve...liked you for a while but, didn’t think you’d be interested. I’ve had a lot of male friends that were acting like you, but weren’t interested in me, so I thought...that was the case.” I admitted.
“You have no idea how much I appreciate you, and not only in a friendly way. I’ve liked you for a bit, and as I said, I was afraid of what you’d say, so...I told myself that waiting for the right moment would be better.”
“....yeah, same. I don’t think we’d ever get to have a conversation about it but- did you uh...resolved yourself to do it because of…”
“..the paper thing? Yeah, and no. It’s been on my mind for a bit. I just thought this would...kind of- be the right moment. I know that it's not the ideal place, but I just thought, it’s now or never.”
“At least...it’s cleared out?” I asked.
“Yeah, it is. I’m glad we know about...the feelings stuff and all.”
“You have no idea how I am. This is- wow, sorry, this was kind of sudden, and I...didn’t think that’d happen. Just this morning I thought about talking about it somewhere this week and now- did you read my expression or something and guessed or…? Because just as I thought about it, you talked to me.” I explained.
“I guess so. I’ve been thinking about it for a bit, and...I didn’t want to wait more as I wouldn’t have ever talked, as for you.”
“Would you have waited another week for me to tell it or would you have stepped in before?”
“I think it would have depended on where we would be. Because, if we were outside, I think that I would have preferred something nicer than a bureau, you know. Even if I like it, to be honest. But, I wouldn’t say it’s the best setup to ask someone on a date?”
I shrugged. “Not the best, but, it’s better than- I don’t know...a grocery store or something?”
“Yeah- it’s better.”
“At least you’ll get a better shot at asking me out on another date after that one.”
“I’ll definitely do better.”
“I trust you on that one. But- I want to home right now though, I kind of miss my couch...and my fridge, maybe.”
“I’m with you on both ones- after you.” Spencer offered, as the elevator opened, stepping in after me.
“Be careful with the whole gentlemen thing, you’re gonna have to bring me coffee everyday soon.”
“I’m already doing that with mine, bringing yours won’t hurt. You’ll probably have a bill at the end of each month.”
“In your dreams, Reid.”
++
The care that had been put by Spencer on our first date was truly amazing.
It looked like he planned it months ago, it could almost be seen as a kind of proposal if someone else would see it.
He insisted on picking me up himself, did not tell me a single thing about where we were going till we were there, which was weird...but made it exciting and fun.
I have to say that I was...quite nervous too.
I never even thought that I’d be here, on a literal date with Spencer Reid himself; I’ve had dreams about it, thought about it, but never thought it’d actually happen.
None of this was a joke, he was more than serious about it.
I don’t think that even one thought I had looked like this moment, he insisted for it to be an awesome first date we’d both remember for a while, and I wish it could have lasted longer.
Time went by, way too fast that when we both saw the time, it was already 10PM.
As we could have work, and that sleeping early would be convenient if we happen to be called in early, we decided to end the night there, even if none of us really wanted to.
“We should stay in next time. That way we won’t be tired, you know. It’s kind of late.” Spencer pointed out, as we walked to my place.
“You sure? It’s gonna be Grey’s Anatomy or whatever cheesy tv show I watch for the night.”
“I don’t mind. I’ll probably try to point out the mistakes, it’ll be like...a game night you know.”
“Oh, yeah. It could. But, I think I’m gonna be the one to lose as the only ‘medical knowledge’ I have from that show is from that show. And, as Google isn’t to be trusted, I’m gonna lose.”
“It could also include a...spot cheesy moments thing.”
“Season one is full of it. We’re gonna have a lot to talk about. I would have proposed Star Trek but apparently, there’s not much scientific errors, it’s pretty accurate from what I heard. We could settle on Doctor Who if we can’t decide.”
“Would you like it though? You told me you don’t watch it usually.”
“You could tell me about it, it could be good. We could also try Supernatural, it’s kind of mystery stuff with paranormal stuff?”
“Ghosts, spirit and the whole heaven/hell thing?”
“Yeah, there’s a lot going on. And...it's kind of in the title. I’d have to warn you though, I’m kind of obsessed with the main leads, so don't get jealous or something.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t judge you. It’s a judgement free-zone.”
You raised your eyebrows, staying silent for a split second.“...you judged me when I didn’t add any sugar in my coffee.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Spencer, please- you looked at me weirdly, as if I committed a crime.”
“Not in a mean way- I just put a ton, so, seeing someone putting none was weird.” He admitted.
“I’m judging you on that then. You’re putting way too much in that. It’s sugar with liquid at this point, it's melted candy.”
“I hate the strong taste.”
“Then drink tea.” I proposed.
“It’s too light.”
“Just end up drinking water.” I said, running out of ideas.
“No, I prefer to stay with my sugar with liquid.”
As you wish.” I agreed, as we came to a stop.
“So...we’re there.”
“Yep, we are. I’ll see you tomorrow?” I asked.
“Yeah, tomorrow.” Spencer repeated, coming forward to plant a kiss on my cheek. “Have a good night.”
“Spencer, you missed. You kissed my cheek.”
“Oh I- are you fine with it…?”
“Just kiss me, Reid.” I replied back, while one of his came on my left cheek, the other laying on my waist as he stepped forward once again, kissing me on the lips.
All of it was perfect.
It was only the two of us, the world around us had froze.
My arms ended up winding up around his neck as he brought me close, his warmth, smell invading my emotions, my whole thoughts.
I had totally forgotten about everything else, he was the center of my attention, I couldn’t allow myself to go on another track when he happened to be near me, this close.
Never have I thought that months ago, as I was crushing on a man I thought wouldn’t like me, would actually like me, and kiss me.
We were literally starting to date.
This better be real, I better not be in a coma after whatever accident I might have had.
Because this— this is way better than a dream, than I imagined.
I would be so mad if that wouldn’t end up to be real— but it is.
All of the things I’d feel, whether it was him, his hand on my cheek radiating his warmth on me, his breath, his lips slotting against mine, his arm enlacing my waist, the grip on my waist gentle, the feeling of the fabric of his jacket against my fingers, or even my own feelings, all of the memories, thoughts floating around, there was just way too many things to describe, but I could still list them all of a sudden if I were to be asked about the aftermath of it.
I couldn’t wish for a better moment like this.
I think that the fact that this moment was probably totally unexpected made it even more special for the two of us.
Neither of us will forget, ever.
This moment totally replaced the message written in bright red ink that reminded me that I still had these feelings laying around that I kept pushing away by fear of rejection.
The rejection seemed long gone, for me, he happened to be having similar feelings, probably fearing a negative event as well.
Turns out nothing bad happened for the both of us.
Only our truest desires, what we wished for but didn’t dare to as the bad ones were stronger.
The bad pushed the joy we could have really lived if the feelings were mutual.
And now, it is.
We both know that the other likes us, that the bad is long gone behind us.
I could tell that, from my side, because of this moment.
I didn’t want it to stop, ever.
I wished to live this kind of event that could give the chance for all of these amazing feelings to fill my whole mind.
No more fear, pain, sadness, just calm, reassuring, soothing feelings.
The ones that make you feel that nothing can hurt you anymore, that make you feel safe, happy, this is all I’ve ever wanted.
I didn’t even count how many minutes that lasted, I was too focused on...the wonderful person in front of me and all the feelings that came with it.
It was quite the overwhelming one, and for once, it wasn’t an unpleasant overwhelming, it made me feel happy.
Mostly because I’d never thought feelings could be so deep, numerous, amazing to think about, and then, even more happy feelings would pop up again, and again.
I’d almost forgotten we were still in front of my building, and that it was...really late.
I almost think that I didn’t remember the world had kept moving, that people walked by to see two people making out in the street.
I guess I sort of apologize, but don’t really care.
I was in my moment and did not care if anyone saw us.
When we both slowed down in our movements, ceasing after a few seconds; I slightly stepped back, letting his hand rest on my cheek for a little bit more when I put mine on his.
I simply didn’t want the feeling of his warmth to ever stop.
I did not want any of what this moment made me feel to ever stop after I had to experience it with no one but a person that deeply matters to me.
The only person I’ve ever wanted to feel this kind of amazing feelings with.
I didn’t want it to stop.
Not yet.
Not ever.
It was amazing.
He was amazing.
As we both started to take our breaths back, when his hand dropped from my cheek to my waist, joining the other, the feeling of looking in his eyes once again was astounding.
It was just a glance.
But, when you happen to be in total love, it isn’t just a simple glance, it’s always a special one.
What you feel about it won’t ever change.
I’m sure of it, in my case.
I wish I could be looking at him forever.
But...not that I want to ruin the moment but, it was really late, and windy.
Not the best time to look at each other for hours.
After a certain amount of time, Spencer had been the one to briefly break contact, before maintaining it once again, but with a different emotion plastered on his face this time.
“I’m sorry for...before, I panicked and I-”
Okay, here goes nothing.
“I don’t want you to go yet.” I admitted. “That's kind of the reason...I said and did that too. I wanted to kiss you but, it was also to feel you close a bit more, a four hour date wasn’t enough and I don’t think it’ll ever be.”
He seemed surprised at my confession.
Just say something, I hate it when there’s a blank.
Especially when I just said this to you.
“...if you want me to stay, just tell me.” He said. “I’ll be here as long as you’ll have me, as long as you want. Even for a whole week, a month, hell- forever, let’s be crazy.”
“You’d do that?”
“Of course! Why wouldn’t I?”
“I just feel like I would be bothering you.”
“You’re not. I’m actually happy to get to stay more. It’s not bothersome at all, on the contrary. I’m happy to stay.”
I’m happy too.
“Thanks for that. I really...appreciate it.” I admitted.
“The pleasure’s mine.”
“Wow, you’re playing it ‘gentleman-like’ now?”
“I guess so. I would also say it can be because I’ve seen a bit too much of Miraculous Ladybug when I was babysitting kids. Cat Noir’s nice.”
“You know lines of Cat Noir?”
“Yeah, I picked up a few one.”
“Really? You’re gonna say them all the time now?”
“Of course, my lady.”
“I’m never gonna get used to that. It’s weird hearing you say that.”
“But it’s romantic, there’s a lot in the TV shows you watch. The characters do that too.”
“But you’re not one of the characters, you’re Spencer Reid. You’re yourself. You don’t need to throw Cat Noir lines to charm me or something. Just you...is enough.”
“You sound like ladybug...and also Marinette.”
“We’re kind of them- well- kind of, as what we deal with isn’t...close to a kid’s show, but, we save people.”
“Oh, we should-”
“No, I’m not dressing up as ladybug for halloween.”
“...can’t say I didn’t try.”
“There’s no way I’m dressing up in a suit-” I argued.
“We would have been equal, I’d be in one too.”
“I’m not doing it-”
“...guess I’ll have to come up with something else then.”
“Yeah. We have at least six months to think about it so...that’s enough for me, I guess.”
“It’s short. We’re gonna end up one week before.” He complained.
“Stop worrying about that- just get inside with me, it’s getting cold.”
“I could give you my sweater and jacket, I don’t mind.”
“Just- get inside Reid.”
“I was joking!”
“Sure you do. Do you think I’d stay outside for another hour?”
“I just thought it was because you were cold-”
“I’m gonna check if you don’t have a fever when we get up- you’re out of your mind.”
“I’m perfectly fine.”
“Nah, you’re a bit tired, from what you said.”
“I didn’t actually mean it.”
“Sure, let’s get you to bed, grandpa.”
"I'm 32-"
"So?"
"I don't see why you call me grandpa."
"You don't have the reference? The meme, you know?"
"No, I don't."
"You're disappointing, Reid."
++
“Is it going to get worse in later seasons? It’s too calm.” Spencer pointed out.
“Uh...possibly. Season one is pretty calm, not- entirely, but...okay compared to later ones. There’s a lot going on in Supernatural, and it gets pretty hard when you get attached to the characters. The writers like to hurt us.”
“They’re taking all of the pain of the fans on twitter as inspiration.”
I snorted. “I’m really starting to wonder if it’s not the case at this point.”
“I noticed they tend to do that at the end of seasons too. They throw in a cliffhanger where you think that the character is going to die, and then, they make you wait months...just to show they had a scratch on the arm.” He explained.
“It’s true...they did that a lot of times. I’m afraid of what’s going to happen after season one though. I bet it’s only going to get worse.”
“Probably. I bet they won’t be extra nice with letting them live peacefully.”
“You…” I stopped in my sentence, yawning. “...said it. Sorry- I’m a bit tired.” I said, rubbing my eyes.
"Oh you should probably- go to bed, yeah. I'll leave the bed to you, you know."
"Why would you sleep on the couch?"
"Uh...well, uh...I don't know."
"We're sleeping in the same bed, it's not the end of the world."
"...are you uh- sure?"
"I guess. I don't want you to be uncomfortable."
“I just figured that...it’d be sort of embarrassing, or even awkward for you.”
“I don’t get why it would be, it’s okay. Plus, you deserve to sleep comfortably if you’re tired as well.”
“Okay, then.”
I paused for a bit, thinking about a detail. “...It’s probably stupid to ask, but...which side do you usually prefer? Just so that, there aren't any problems if you sleep on a specific one, you know.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to be taking you side or anything, as you said, if you prefer a specific...one.”
“Why did you think I asked? And, in case we prefer the same, we’ll just settle on one, that's all I can think of.”
“...it wasn’t stupid to ask though.” Spencer reassured.
“Really? I...it’s not everyday that I ask that kind of stuff, especially as this situation doesn’t happen everyday. But, at least, I can say that I’ve already done it. It’s...something.”
“Yeah, same. It’s just...I don’t know, what would you call it?”
“Half stupid, half nice? I have no idea as well.” I admitted.
“...we can just leave it there, we’ll never find it.”
“True- Are you coming, or doing a whole routine like drinking water, going to the bathroom, tidying up everything, checking mails and all of the possible stuff that you could do?”
“Do you really think I could be doing that?”
“Kind of. Wouldn’t be surprising if you were doing that. But I’d say it’s a waste of time, if it’s 10PM, you end up going at 11:30 something. The least I’d do would be...water and bathroom. But again- I won’t criticize, it’s fine with me. Just don’t make hella noise.” I detailed.
“I just...check mails...a lot, yeah. Also uh...I make sure everything is ready in case we get called in so I don’t rush; so, I do a lot of stuff. But as if it’s a calm week, I guess I can skip getting the bag ready, and probably mails as I answer them later.”
“That’s...good to know at least. Less stress before going to bed.”
“Kind of. I tend to do all of the stuff I forget all day at night, which causes me to do a lot of stuff, being afraid that they won’t be done on time, so...it’s nice to have less stress.”
“Really nice after what you said.” I pointed out. “Are you sure you’re okay though? We’re only sharing a bed, it isn’t the end of the world, if that’s the thing that bothers you.”
“No, you’re not….it isn’t- It’s not the problem. I just, never really...did it, and...I have no idea why I’m stressing over that. It’s kind of stupid as we’re just gonna sleep.”
“You’ll be out like a light in two minutes Spence, it won’t be a problem if that’s what stresses you out. Also, it kind of is...the feeling you can’t describe, and me neither. It’s like...stress, awkwardness, a mix, you know.”
“Exactly, it’s kind of that.” He agreed.
“Didn't know we were thinking the same about that. Well, I guess we’ll see. We should go before it’s too late.”
“Yeah, we...probably should.”
“Relax up a bit. Just chill.”
“I’m perfectly relaxed.” He argued.
“No you’re not. Stop lying, I don’t even need to profile you to know. You’re like a balloon ready to explode.”
“I really don’t see what you’re talking about, y/n.” He muttered.
“Did anyone tell you that you’re very convincing? Turns out they were lying, genius.”
++
“I think I’m the one freaking out now.” I admitted, out of the blue.
“I’m not really freaking out anymore. I guess I gave all of my stress away to you.”
“It’s quite thoughtful, thanks.”
“Maybe you’re just hot, who knows. I’m fine on my side.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m not hot, it was freezing cold outside, so it is inside. I know when it’s hot and when it’s not.”
“Uh then...try to take deep breaths? I don’t know what you could do.”
Why don’t you try to be less handsome, huh?
“I think it’s the awkwardness and stress mix kicking in, as I said earlier.”
“Do you want to talk for a bit? Maybe it’ll calm you down.”
“Sure, why not.” I agreed, turning to the other side to face him.
That guy has to realize that his face is what’s distracting me.
“What did you think about today?” He asked.
“It was...really fun. Quite more than I expected I think. I guess I’d be down for other ones.”
“I can’t guarantee I’m not going to slide one or two essays in it though.”
“I’m fine with it. You know listening to you...never bothered me. I don’t think it’ll ever bore me. Who doesn’t like a few facts?”
“Even when it’s all about science or pagan rituals? The cop looked at me weirdly and even asked what kind of doctor I was. Someone else had to talk to revive the conversation.”
You bet, not everyone’s used to it.
“I do remember that one. You looked pretty...proud about it when you finished the sentence. I swear that I would have revived it first or would have kept going. I know a bit about it. What did you say to creep him out?”
“I think that...there was candle wax on the tree, and I said the usual stuff, as a matter of fact, it was used to protect the birth day celebrants from demons, and that the celebration got rejected by Christianity as a pagan ritual’. That’s when he asked.”
That totally explains.
“It wasn’t embarrassing, don’t worry. He just...wasn’t used to that. That almost happens with every new person you meet. I’m out of the ‘almost’ I guess. I was surprised, but got kind of interested.”
“Again, that was surprising. Not everyone would have reacted like you did. I know the others try not to hurt me and listen to it until it’s enough.”
“It’s distracting sometimes, you can always keep going. But not too late, 2AM essays aren’t my thing. Sleeping at 2AM is.”
Getting to sleep at 2AM doesn’t even matter anymore, I’m just glad to be able to sleep.
“I’ll try then.”
“You better.” I warned, pulling my jacket closer to my body as I felt a few chills.
His gaze hadn’t left my figure, hence, he noticed. “...you’re still cold?”
“A bit, I guess.”
“Do you uh...want to...get closer?”
“If you don’t mind, I don’t know. I don’t want it to be embarrassing.”
“It’s not, I swear. I just don’t want you to freeze, I guess.” He admitted, raising one of his arms.
“Okay, thanks.” I slowly got closer, not wanting to invade too much.
“I said you could get closer, that is barely closer than before. Come here.” He pointed out, which I responded to with a sigh as my head ended up resting against his chest. “I told you it wasn’t weird.”
“I thought it’d be for you.” I answered.
“It’s not...anymore. It’s actually fine...now that you’re here.”
“...really? You were kind of stressed about it just a bit ago.”
“Don’t remind me, it’s embarrassing again now. Do as your brain is a computer and delete the file.”
You’re the computer, I’m not.
“It’s fun when you react like that, why would I stop?”
“That’s offending.”
“You, offended? I don’t think so. You don’t sound like it, you’re acting.”
“That hurted my feelings even more, I think my heart might die because of such cruelty. You should be careful with your words, my lady.”
“You’re starting to look like Cat Noir. It’s cheesy. I didn’t hurt anyone’s feelings.”
“Maybe I am Cat Noir, who knows.”
“Guess you’re gonna have to give back your power, you’re not supposed to say it.”
That shows how many nights I’ve spent babysitting kids, especially Matt’s, they watch it way too much.
“Never said I was.”
I kind of wish you were, it’d be fun to see you in that costume.
“Spencer, you sound like him now. You’re definitely him, can’t change my mind about that.”
“I just sound like him, doesn’t mean I am.”
“I have the last word, stop.”
“Okay, I’m stopping. But you have to sleep first, I’m not sleeping until you’re asleep.”
“...bossy.” I spat.
“I’m taking care of you, I’m not bossy.”
“...what’ver.”
“Whatever, right.” Spencer repeated, hesitating for a bit before putting his lips on my forehead, softly kissing it a few times. “I totally agree with you.”
“Mhm.” I lazily said, growing a bit more tired.
“Good night, y/n.”
++
Nothing much had been planned for today; so when I had woken up, I really didn’t need to feel stressed about rushing into work as most of it would only be paperwork.
Spencer was still asleep. He had stirred up a bit when I stood up, but it didn’t wake him much. He was sleeping as a baby, even when I accidentally banged my foot against a shelf, nothing woke him up.
I exited the room with a chuckle, heading to the kitchen aisle to fill up a glass of water; sitting on the counter when I had the glass in hand.
It wasn’t really late, just about 8AM, I could still head to work around 9 or 10 as our work hours were to be chosen by us when nothing urgent was to be done; but, the limit was still about 10AM, the hour to be chosen more freely was around the end of the day.
Too bad we can’t head in somewhere in the afternoon.
I hate that work just for that.
I slightly jumped from the counter, peering over the bedroom to see Spencer still sound asleep, only his position had changed.
As I looked in the room, his sweater had been messily put on one of the chairs in the corner, almost at the edge of it.
Time to make jokes and steal a sweater.
I slightly laughed, walking to the chair as I grabbed the sweater, heading back outside when I had the item in hand.
In a few seconds, I had put my head in the top hole, then my arms in the sleeves, arranging the sweater afterwards.
Good luck to get it back, Reid.
++
“Hey, did you-” Spencer asks, before putting his eyes on me. “Is that my sweater, or am I having hallucinations?”
“That is your sweater, indeed. You’re not hallucinating.”
“Is it being rude to ask why you’re wearing it?”
“I don’t know, I like it.”
“And...is it possible to get it back later?”
“Not sure….no.”
“At least you were clear.” Spencer chuckled, sitting on the couch as I joined him after a minute.
“Last night was really nice. I appreciated the forehead kisses.”
“I just...felt like it would be reassuring, glad to know that. I could do it often if you’d like to. I don’t mind.”
“Every night, no matter the situation. If we leave and don’t see each other for a few hours, forehead kisses, even if we don’t sleep at the other’s place, forehead kisses- basically every time we have to separate for a bit. But- you can also do it when we’re together, so...correction, all the time.”
“Gotcha, all the time.”
“I may give you back your sweater at some point if you keep your promise.”
“I don’t actually mind, you can keep it. Just tell me when you take my clothes so I don’t think that some alien stole my clothes in the night.”
“I’ll send you a text every time I’ll be taking one. You might receive a lot though…”
“Just try to leave two or three shirts and some pants so I don’t have to go out in the street naked.”
“I will- don’t worry.” I said, laughing.
“Too bad I can’t take yours in exchange. I’m not a fan of...tops.”
“You know what? That’s not a bad idea. I’m gonna take everything in your closet and only leave pants and that top. Thanks for the idea!” I thanked, getting up from the couch as he tried to catch me when I started to run.
At least now, I can’t say that I had a bad week.
It was better than expected;
For...probably the both of us.
++
If you liked this fic, let me know here!
#cm#cm fic#cm cbs#Criminal Minds#criminal minds fanfic#Criminal Minds Fanfiction#Criminal Minds Spencer Reid#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you
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Green is Your Colour
Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Fem! Reader
Summary: Reader is Isaiah Jesus' older sister, still much younger than Tommy however. They always had this platonic and not implicit flirt going on, but one night they are alone and they just can’t keep going on with the platonic attraction they both have for each other, they have to do something.
Warnings: Physical Abuse
Requested By: @thepeakygurl ( I tried my best, hope you like it! 💗 )
Almost growing up with the Shelby's had changed your outlook towards life, especially when you were usually joined to the hip with the two, Isaiah, your younger brother, and Finn. Your family was never welcomed into the society, and you knew it, but ever since you met the Shelby's, they had formed like a halo over you, an invisible coating, that kept you protected from anyone who didn't see you for the person that you were. They made you feel normal and accepted, and you were thankful to them for it.
There were a few incidents, that you remembered at the back of your mind, that caused shivers to run down your spine, and sometimes, hatred brew inside the pit of your stomach, causing it to churn, but the Shelby's made sure that your family was shielded, as much as possible.
"Finn, what the fuck happened?" Tommy Shelby's voice was chastising, as he stood over Finn, looking down at the cuts adorning his pale, ashen face, his face almost shaking in disappointment, as he walked up to Isaiah, "Will you bloody speak? Or have the two of you decided to keep mute going forward?"
The three of you hung your heads, partly with shame, but you more so because you didn't want Tommy to notice the way your glasses were cracked at the edge and a tiny bruise was already forming on your left eye, giving you a black eye. It was good that the lights to the Shelby's office were dimmed out and he couldn't really see your face.
"It's nothing, got into a fight, that's all. You don't have to keep asking me, yeah?"
Tommy couldn't help narrow his eyes at his youngest brother, and neither could you refrain from giving him a side glance, the small movement of your head causing Tommy to notice and finally turn towards you, his eyes now on you, a watchful gaze in the blue of them.
"Will you tell me? Your brother probably picked his side, and looks like he sided with my brother," he side glanced towards Isaiah.
"It wasn't their fault, Mr. Shelby."
Your voice came out weaker than you had imagined, immediately causing you to draw your eyes shut and shoot in some air through your mouth , only to exhale. "I should have known this would happen. Well, they, uh, we got into a fight at that seamstress shop on the next street."
"Fight about what?" Tommy asked.
Isaiah finally spoke up, and you could feel a knot on the side of your thigh where his fists were clenched together hard. "All my sister wanted was to admire that dress on display."
Tommy understood; you heard him exhale, almost very softly, but there was a thick silence suddenly. A sound of a match lighting filled the room, Tommy's face now glowing a bright orange as he lit the cigarette stick in his mouth, smoke coiling around him like dense smog. Once he had taken a drag of the cigarette, his hand came to rest on Isaiah's shoulder as he patted it once, "Take your sister home, your father must be worried about the two of you, ey?"
"Yeah, yes, Mr. Shelby." Isaiah turned towards you, and you, keeping your head hung, slowly sneaked past the two, feeling Tommy's eyes on you, as your silhouette disappeared out through the door.
Once Isaiah and you had left, Tommy sent Finn back to the living quarters, for he wanted to be alone. The lads had all left an hour back and Tommy was the only one in the empty office now. He made his way to his office, darting towards his liquor cabinet until he had poured himself some whiskey in a glass. Sitting down finally, letting his head rest against the leather of the chair, staring mindlessly at the ceiling, Tommy blinked, his thoughts running like a haywire. There was a perplexity in his mind, stuck to him like a disease and he couldn't shake it away, no matter how hard he tried. It was like the war again, he wanted to hard to go back home, but he was trapped in those tunnels miles away from home.
The clock kept ticking, and the hours passed, slowly yet Tommy kept sitting there, the bottle of whiskey now almost gone. The Sun had began to draw up, the faint orange hue filling up the quiet streets of Birmingham. Tommy had fallen asleep, his chest heaving up and down, and it was perhaps after ages that he had had a night when the nightmares had not tortured him, when his eyes fluttered open, thanking the sunlight that was falling over his face.
He groaned and grumbled, swiping his palm over his face, looking at the time in his pocket watch. It was 7, two hours before the lads will start piling in and he will sucked in to work. He had someplace to be.
𖠁𐂃𖠁
Tommy found himself leaning against the streetlight, a lit cigarette in his fingers as his hand mechanically moved back and forth his lips. A satisfied look rested on his face, his eyes fixed on the Peaky boys in front of him, that were thrashing up two men outside a seamstress' shop. Upon taking the last bit of smoke, he let it drop, his hand reaching for his cap as he pulled it off the top of his head. With slow steps, he walked up to where the lads were holding the two men, their faces now covered in blood, who were now pleading to be let go.
"This is our city. And they are one of us. You should 'ave thought of the bloody outcome before you decided to meddle with their business."
"But Mr. Shelby, t-trust us, we didn't know they were associated with y-you," one of them stammered, coughing up blood.
"Lads, take them away. And make sure they know who this fucking city belongs to." Tommy waved his palm in the air, moving past the men until he had vanished into the shop behind them.
You sighed, staring at your hands. Your hands still trembled, and tears relentlessly streamed down your cheeks when you remembered how the men had tried to hit you, assault you, forgetting the fact that you were a woman. Had Finn and Isaiah not stepped in, by chance being someplace around, you didn't want to think of the gruesome images that propped in the back of your mind, the things that would have perhaps happened to you.
You looked at the bruise on your arm, where one of the men had grabbed you and jerked you so hard, it felt your arm would break off. It was now turning blue. A pained sigh escaped your lips, forcing you to jerk your head up to look at your face in the mirror, a small cut had formed over the side of your lip, trailing down towards your throat, and you had a black eye.
You didn't want to go out, but there were chores you had to do. Life didn't stop, no matter what happened. That's something your father, Jeremiah, always said. Dressing up without the will to do so, wearing a simple white blouse, you stepped out of your apartment.
You worked as a florist, your tiny squabble of a shop centred a few shops away from the seamstress lodgings, the one where that incident had taken place yesterday. This was one place that you felt like yourself; that you were free, and were only judged once you stepped out of the confines of the shop. Although none of the Shelby's never said anything, to either you or to Isaiah, but deep down, you knew, that it was because of them no one really bothered you at the shop. It was the understanding and the friendship between your father and Thomas Shelby, you had a place which you can term as your safe haven, and you were finally doing something you always wanted to do.
You didn't realize when, lost in your own deep thoughts, you almost crossed the seamstress shop, until something didn't feel right. You lifted your eyes, fixing your gaze on the shop that looked like it had been taken down, the racks that hung the beautiful dresses now looked empty and all the beautiful silks and the chiffons were gone. Men were walking in and out, no one bothering to even look up at you until one of them caught your eye.
You didn't understand what John was doing in there.
And then you saw him, your brother lurking back with a few of the Peaky boys, and Finn.
Clearing your throat, you pushed your way through the lads, minding your own business, until you stepped into the shop, your eyes raking the interiors, the wallpapers that had already been taken off, and the walls were being painted a pristine white.
"Whatever happened to the seamstress that worked here?" You raised an eyebrow.
"Well, Mr. Shelby bought this shop."
You bit the insides of your cheeks, nodding towards your own brother.
"Does he want to open another pub in here? What about the Garrison?" You asked again, innocently.
Finn almost gave you a tight lipped smile, that you noted, but decided not to comment on. Isaiah only parted his lips, a warm smile now draping over them, "Well it's ours. Yours technically. You're not to bloody run that squabble of a flower shop that you run down the street."
The first few hours of that day were spent in shock and then denial, that you couldn't accept it; and it wasn't right. But when Isaiah told you that Mr. Shelby had made up his mind, and he wanted you to have the shop, you did accept it in the end. The next day was spent decorating the shop, putting up your flower stands, and making sure that it was ready to be opened up again. The third day was, well, it was spend sitting in your shop, your apron wrapped around your frame, your mind thinking of ways in which you could thank Thomas Shelby in, and express your gratitude.
𖠁𐂃𖠁
You finally decided on mustering up the courage to finally walk up to him and thank him, after your day ended. By the lunch hour, the people in your shop had left, and you were left in peace to finally relax and bask in the freshness and the fragrance that the flower stands emitted. You sat back against your chair, resting your head against the leather when the jingling of the bell caused you to flutter your eyes open, and your eyes to widen momentarily, your cheeks turning scarlet red.
"Mr. Shelby?"
"Call me Tommy." Although his voice sounded curt, it wasn't rude or arrogant, this was simply the way he spoke. You nodded, and he walked in, shutting the door behind you.
"How can I help you?" You asked him with a warm smile, ignoring the sudden thumping in your heart.
You were sure you caught a small hint of a smile on the man's lips, and it was easier to read because he hardly ever did that. But just as faint the smile was, it vanished when he stepped closer.
"How did this happen?"
His palm reached up to your face, his thumb grazing over the bruise underneath your left eye, and you flinched slightly, not from the touch, but from the realization that you had forgotten all about your pretty obvious injuries. You took a sharp breath, and bit the insides of your cheeks.
"Those men, they tried to– "
Tommy Shelby's eyes darkened, and you felt his demeanour shift to more rigid, his body stiffening.
"Never again."
"What?" You asked, when you heard him mutter in a low voice.
"Never again would anyone fucking dare to do that."
A sudden flush crept over you, and you were sure you were blushing scarlet in front of him, so you drew your eyes away for a bit, fixing your gaze on a set of peonies right next to him.
"Come with me. Close the shop and come with me– ," he suddenly said, out of the blue and caused you to snap your head back at him. You were planning to find him after your shift yourself, but now here he was, asking you to come with him, and you had no idea where.
"– Please."
Your heart almost skipped a beat. The please was the softest you had ever heard from him.
"Alright, five minutes," you replied, your mind in a daze.
"Where are we going, Mr. Shelby?" Five minutes later, you tugged on your coat to pull it tighter against your frame, as the winter chill was biting down on you. Thomas Shelby was walking next to you with a lit cigarette in his hand.
"The office. I needed your help with something, hope that isn't a bother?"
"Mhm, not at all." You smiled back.
After a few minutes, you stepped into his office and the first thing he did was help you out of your coat, and you thanked him politely before you followed him through his office. A few of the Peaky boys were still there, and your eyes met with Isaiah who gave you a look that pretty much was asking you what you were doing here, so you gave him a look back that said that you were just doing what he asked you to, your eyes pointing towards Tommy, who was walking in front of you.
Tommy cleared his throat, as he switched on the lights of his office, and immediately your throat went dry, your breathing hitching slightly. There was a whole rack of dresses in there, the ones that you had been admiring at the seamstress shop. Tommy's gaze followed yours as he noticed you looking at the dresses, and he let his lips curve into a smile, knowing you weren't looking.
"Can you, eh, help me out? There's, well, a woman I fancy who I wanted to give these to. I was wondering if she would, eh, like it?"
You didn't know where this feeling had gnawed out from. You knew it but you didn't want to believe it. When you heard his words, the smile that was playing on your lips broke suddenly, a dry lump forming in your throat. Of course he had another woman. He only needed your help.
"I,uh– " Words didn't fall out of your lips, and you were afraid he would notice how your eyes had now a glossy sheen on them, so you averted your gaze and slowly walked up to the dresses, admiring them, your fingers brushing through the satin fabric of one of the green ones, "These are lovely Thomas, of course she would love it."
He gave you a faint nod, and you stepped away, running your hand awkwardly through your hair. A sudden hushed silence fell over and you slowly stepped away, looking towards the door. "Well, I should leave with Isaiah now. And Mr. Shelby, thank you. For what you did for me."
You didn't wait for him to reply, but rather, you hurriedly turned your tail, and took a deep breath, slowly walking out. You didn't know why, but your heart was hurting now, and you didn't know why you were feeling this sudden dejection inside of you, for you had never seen him in any other way before.
"Wait."
His words caused you to abruptly stop, your hand on the doorframe, but your back turned towards him. You didn't turn around, for a loose tear had managed to slide down your cheek, and you didn't want him to see it.
"Would you take these dresses with you or shall I send one of the lads?" There was a hint of a teasing in his voice.
You turned around, your eyes widened.
"I– "
He finally walked up to where you were standing by the door, and almost leaned in, until his lips were directly above your ear, and he whispered softly, "I'll send them over love. They're yours."
"Thomas, I– "
His index finger pressed against your lips, almost grazing over the dried up cut.
"Wear the green tomorrow, I'll pick you up from your shop at 8 eh?"
You nodded, your lower lip trembling underneath his touch, and a sudden shiver running through your body. It felt like you were frozen in time, and hypnotized. Isaiah's voice finally snapped you out of the trance you were in, followed by his head poking in as he asked if you were ready to leave, and you nodded.
Once again, as you were about to step out through the door, you hurriedly turned towards him, and noticed that he had settled into his desk, so you blurted out, your words coming out so fast, it felt as though you were hyperventilating.
"Is this a date?"
He sat back, his fingers toying with the box of cigarettes, a small smile playing on his lips.
"Aren't you a slow bloomer, love? Remember to wear that green. Green is definitely your colour."
You bite your lip, unconsciously, and nodded, finally walking away from him, but you had the warmest of smiles on your face. You were nervous, how it was going to go, for people weren't going to welcome whatever little you had with Thomas Shelby, and they were probably going to abhor it. But you were also happy, that this man had chosen you, by his own free will, and was finally treating you like you actually deserved. You closed your eyes, hoping that this would actually last.
You didn't know if green was really your colour, but green somehow did become your favourite colour the minute Tommy Shelby asked you to wear it.
𖠁𐂃𖠁
A/N : I'm sorry this turned out pretty long, hope you guys liked this.💚
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