#I’ve been holding onto this post for a while but seems appropriate to release for Survive’s anniversary | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vanaera · 5 years ago

Text

The Heart Holiday | Act 2 (2/2) | myg

Synopsis: Valentine’s Day is declared as an official holiday. However, private companies’ standards dictate it’s only for the people who are currently in a relationship. Unluckily for Y/N, she doesn’t have this year’s PRS’ (Proof of Relationship Status) “in a relationship” box ticked – the only ticket out she can have to enjoy one paid week of holiday leave away from her hellish job. And more unfortunately for Y/N, everyone around her is oh so conveniently currently committed in a relationship. Except for one person: Min Yoongi, Y/N’s biggest critic in every pitch meeting, the picky guy who always picks on her, and the most annoying jerk of the century. Desperate for that holiday leave, Y/N strikes Yoongi up with an offer: Fake date each other two weeks before February 14, just enough time for the Department of Relationship Management (DRM) to consider processing their PRSs. After Valentine’s Day, they will go back to their own ways and never speak about whatever that may happen during the plan. Good, plain, and simple. That is until, Yoongi uncharacteristically oh so enthusiastically agrees to Y/N’s offer, leaving her thinking that she may have bitten something too much more than she can chew.

Characters: Yoongi x Female Reader AU/ Trope: Office AU (Creatives Staff!myg x PA!reader), enemies to lovers, fake dating Genre: fluff, angst, comedy (the triple t(h)reat) Wordcount: 24.5k Warnings: None (PG-15 Rating). There’s a mention of drunken sex but it’s just one sentence. There’s also less cursing now.

prev | next | series masterlist

DAY 4 – January 29; Wednesday

If yesterday had Yoongi weirdly avoiding her like she’s got a highly contagious virus, today’s Yoongi is a hell of a nutcase. This is even far from an understatement. Ever since Y/N set foot in the office, Yoongi is already on her face. “You got my message last night, sweetheart?” He winks as he walks by her side towards the Creatives’ office. When Y/N plops down on her seat, Yoongi’s eyes are already set dead onto her. He’s not sending her his usual ‘I will end you and you know I can’ look. He’s cupping his face and stares at her with wide, big eyes, lips pulled into a small smile. He even goes as far as to wink at her and send her a fucking finger heart. As if it’s not enough, he has spammed her phone with weird shit.

Mean Yoongi >:( : Good morning, pretty girl. (8:19 A.M.)

Mean Yoongi >:( : Did I call you pretty? Oops, I mean little girl AHAHAHHAHAH (9:11 A.M.)

Mean Yoongi >:( : Don’t ignore me now. I know you’re staring at me 😉 (9:31 A.M.)

Mean Yoongi >:( : Who wouldn’t when I’m so handsome? (9:32 A.M.)

Mean Yoongi >:( : You don’t have to tell me. I already know 😉😉😉 (9:35 A.M.)

Mean Yoongi >:( : Y/Niiiiiiieeeeeeeee (10:16 A.M.)

It seems like a virus has gotten into Yoongi’s head and tampered with his brain.

Y/N’s thoughts halt when Dana passes by her cubicle at 11 A.M. She retrieves the folder she gave her yesterday and glosses over the paper where Y/N typed her final picks. “Endmatter, Extreme Cut, Malachite Adventure? And you want to make a hybrid out of them?” Dana glances up at her.

Y/N nervously clasps her hands together, “Well, I know these templates are usually used for feature articles. So I thought, why not make them appropriate for profile pages, too? No one di-dictated them to be just for features, right? Endmatter has a wonderful layout for pictures. Extreme Cut is good for setting focus on the text blocks. Malachite Adventure has a space-efficient layout for sequencing. If we can combine these three, we could provide something new,” Y/N bites her lip. “Nancy likes new and clean for generic pages like the profiles. So…I guess, why not combine these three templates known for having a clean-cut design?”

Dana stares at her. Y/N gnaws on her lips. The blonde breaks into a grin. “My, you do research well.”

Y/N shyly looks down onto the notebook on her desk. She doesn’t do much work other than gathering reports anyway. It’s only logical she spent five hours learning about templates yesterday than not doing anything. She mutters, “I just really put my all when I’m given a job.”

“And you did,” Dana smiles, “I think this is even brilliant. I’ll make sure to tweak these three to what you suggested.”

“Y-you will?” Y/N’s eyes grow big. She could feel her heart hammering loud in her ears.

“Yeah, why not?” Dana shrugs, “This is new so I’m excited, myself, to try this. And because you know what Nancy likes from all the time you spent with her probably overhearing her roast us all to hell and back, I can at least be assured she won’t be too disappointed with this as our previous submission.”

“Yeah,” Y/N smiles. Heat spreads onto her ears and warmth settles on her chest. The feeling feels too foreign and surreal but she guesses it’s probably just because It’s been a while since she’s been praised for doing a good job.

“Guess you and Yoongi made up, huh?”

The spreading warmth freezes cold. Y/N looks up at Dana in surprise.

“I saw you two earlier being chummy with each other. It even looked like you two have fucking heart eyes,” Dana smiles expectantly.

“N-no, we’re—” Y/N cuts herself. Right, we’re supposed to be a couple. We should have already started convincing everyone we’re dating each other the moment we agreed on the deal. Y/N gulps, “Umm, uh, yeah?”

Dana giggles, “You don’t have to be so nervous, you know? I know you two have a thing. For a long time now.” Y/N’s brows meet together. Dana doesn’t dwell on it, gathering the folder back onto her arms, “Thank you for this again, Y/N. See ya later.”

Dana leaves for the break room and Y/N’s left staring at her back. Her stupor is broken when Yoongi enters her field of vision again, hands occupied with papers. When he passes by her cubicle, he makes sure to flash her another mischievous wink.

Y/N groans and slumps her head onto her desk.

“He’s got my number now, Mina, and to make matters worse, he’s being a winking machine ever since this day started!”

Mina nods. However, Y/N could tell something is up. Her bestfriend’s eyes are switching from her face and onto her radio and her hands were shaking in her clasp. It’s as if she’s restaining herself.

Y/N pauses. She pulls her seat closer to her friend, “Did something happen, Mina?”

Biting her lips, Mina pins her with a look, “Y/N, promise me you won’t be too surprised.”

“Why?” Y/N’s eyes grow bigger, “So something really happened? Tell me, Mina.”

No,” Mina shakes her head. She closes her eyes, “Just promise me you won’t overreact.”

Y/N’s lips twitch. “Okay.”

Mina sighs. She turns to her computer and scrolls through her Facebook account. “So yesterday, I’ve been talking with our high school batchmates. They were planning a reunion next month. A big one. They said they’re trying to get ahold of the whole batch. And something caught my eye.” Mina zooms a post on the screen.

It was a post of Suho Lee, the former Student Council President of their batch in National East Science High School. He took a picture of him and his former members of the council, announcing they’re indeed planning a huge reunion since it’s been a while they’ve seen each other. The post has over a thousand likes by now because Suho made sure to tag almost everyone in the batch. Of course, he’s Suho. Suho knows everybody. Y/N could even see Mina’s name among the tags. But what made her jaw drop is one aberrant name she never expected to be there.

Min Yoongi.

Y/N turns to Mina, eyes blown wide, “Mina, what the hell is this?”

Mina nods, “I’m also shocked, Y/N. I didn’t know he studied in the same high school as us. He’s even our fucking batchmate. I didn’t know—wait, Y/N, where are you going?!”

Y/N exits the Accounting Department and scrolls through her own Facebook account. She walks in fast strides and heads to where she only knows Min Yoongi will be during lunch: the break room. When she swings open the door, she’s right in her speculation.

Y/N walks toward the man who’s washing his utensils in the sink.

“Min.”

Yoongi pauses and looks to his side, “Oh, sweetheart, you’re here.”

“Don’t call me sweetheart,” Y/N spits. She flashes her phone to Yoongi. “What’s the meaning of this?”

Yoongi squints. “It’s a reunion announcement.”

“Obviously,” Y/N rolls her eyes, “I know how to read, Min. And because of that, I know you’ve been tagged here. So, tell me, why is your name here?”

Yoongi places his washed utensils in the dishrack. “Obviously, I’ll be tagged because I studied at NES High,” He looks at Y/N, leaning his hips against the counter, “Why are you making such a big deal out of a reunion announcement?”

“Because I studied here too!”

It’s time for Yoongi to have his eyes bulge out, “Y-you did?”

“Of course, I did! This is where Mina and I first met!”

“But I thought you two were just college buddies?”

“We are! But we belong in the same friend circle in high school first before we got closer in college—this is not the point,” Y/N exasperates, “Why did you not tell me you studied in the same high school?!”

Yoongi opens his mouth but Y/N cuts him short, “Oh, I know. This is probably the reason why you’re tormenting me ever since you got into Travel Loca.”

“What?”

Y/N crosses her arms. “You’re out here to take your revenge on me.”

The furrows on Yoongi’s forehead deepen.

“Hello?” Y/N deadpans, waving her hands as if it can shake up Yoongi’s memory, “You’re probably one of the names I removed on some group work we had because you’re a freeloader. No wonder you’re so lazy and such a slack-off when you used to co-P.A. with me.” Y/N holds her head high, “And now, you’re here to take revenge.”

Yoongi releases a half-scoff, half-laugh, “What?”

Y/N frustratedly blows a sigh, “In case you did not know, I’m well-known in the batch for removing names of freeloaders in group works. I haven’t kept track of how many names I’ve already removed because they’re that many. And now, you’re here taking your revenge. You don’t have to be petty, Yoongi, you know? If you had unresolved feelings—which I think you don’t have any right to have in the first place because it’s your fault for being lazy and you dug out your own grave—you could have just talked with me like a goddamn adult instead of doing all the shit you did—”

Yoongi’s guffaw cuts you short.

Y/N scowls, “Why are you laughing, Yoongi? This is not funny.”

“Oh, it is!” Yoongi lets out, in-between breaths, “This is hilarious! Revenge? What will I avenge against you when I don’t even know you studied in the same high school?”

Y/N stops. “Y-you don’t know me? But I’m the valedictorian of our batch!”

“Not everyone cares to know that, you know?”

Y/N’s scowl deepens, “Just because you didn’t get any awards in your whole life doesn’t mean you get to demean and undervalue other’s people achievements.”

“I’m not undervaluing it,” Yoongi takes a step closer to her, “I’m just saying no one spends too much time remembering their batch’s valedictorian. I don’t even remember the summa cum laude of my own batch in college.” Yoongi takes a step closer to Y/N, trapping her back on the counter. He leans forward, closing the space between their faces so small only a hair’s breadth separates their noses from brushing against each other. Y/N lets out an inaudible gasp. Yoongi smirks, “What makes you so different, sweetheart?”

Y/N places her hands on his shoulders, “Don’t get too proud of yourself, Yoongi.” But before she can push him away, the door swings loudly against the wall and a woman exclaims.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry for interrupting!”

Ms. Teddy. Y/N’s mouth falls open. She weakly hits Yoongi’s chest to back away and pay respect to their temporary boss but Yoongi only holds her fists and gives her a sickening, sweet smile. He turns around to face Ms. Teddy, but not enough to let out Y/N from her position. Yoongi smiles at the general supervisor, “Oh don’t worry Ms. Teddy, you’re not interrupting anything.”

“Are you sure?” the 45-year-old woman asks. Her wary tone doesn’t match the small blush forming on her cheeks though.

“I’m sure,” Yoongi replies, facing Y/N, “I’m just trying to ask my sweetheart for a date.” Yoongi turns back to Ms. Teddy, smiling, “Nothing biggie. She just said ‘yes.’”

Y/N gapes “What—"

“Oh!” Ms. Teddy perks up, “You two are so sweet! I didn’t know you’re actually a couple! I mean, who would have known? You two always fight with each other. But I guess the movies are right. ‘The more you hate, the more you love.’”

Y/N tries not to cringe too hard.

Ms. Teddy chuckles, “What Y/N said before must be true then. Calling you a ‘mean, inconsiderate, self-absorbed jerk’ must be her own unique term of endearment—”

Y/N raises her brows. How did Ms. Teddy know? Only Steven knows about the mug-chipping incident—”

“—I mean, I even used to call my ex-boyfriend ‘stupid asshole,’” Ms. Teddy chuckles. She suddenly releases a frustrated sigh, “God, I still hate him so much.”

Y/N doesn’t know how to react to that. And so seems Yoongi.

“Anyway, don’t mind me,” Ms. Teddy waves, a sweet smile plastered on her face again. She walks towards the ref to retrieve a green Tupperware. “I’m just here to grab my cheesecake.” The way her eyes refuse to tear away from the “couple” seems to say otherwise.

“O-okay,” Y/N says as she looks at Yoongi. It’s a good thing Yoongi is blocking her body from Ms. Teddy. ‘What do we do?’ she mouths at the man.

Yoongi thinks for a millisecond, then mouths at her, ‘Just follow my lead.’

Before Y/N can mouth ‘okay,’ Yoongi has closed the gap between them and pressed a quick peck on her forehead. He smiles at her, tucking a stray strand behind her ear, “All right, I’ll see you later then, sweetheart.”

“A-alright,” Y/N stutters. Yoongi steps away and she quickly makes her way to the door.

Y/N only notices her hands were tingling when she reaches her P.A. station. And that searing warmth has settled itself on her chest. She plops down on her seat and lets out a tired breath. When she glances at her small mirror, she realizes her face is as red as a strawberry.

What the hell just happened there?

Y/N doesn’t get much time to think about it because her phone vibrates next to her leg.

Mean Yoongi >:( : Let’s meet at The Café Bistro after work. Let’s talk about everything. (1:11 P.M.)

Y/N doesn’t see much of Yoongi for the rest of the day. He’s probably holed up in the meeting room again just like yesterday. The Creatives were much in a rush since yesterday, probably after receiving the work Yoongi has disseminated. Everyone is hunched over their computers. Some have buried their heads in previous issues and design brochures. While a few were chattering about what design is better for their chosen template than the other.

And there is one who’s on Y/N’s tail.

“Oh, Myungsoo, I didn’t see you there,” Y/N glances up from the pile of papers on her desk.

Myungsoo doesn’t return the greetings. He leans over her desk and picks one paper to inspect it. ��Why do you have this?”

“Umm,” Y/N looks around the papers strewn around, refusing to look at the frowning man, “Ms. Park gave them to me. She wanted to, uh, have me check them and give some inputs about it.” A smile plays on Y/N’s lips. Dana Lee must have told Yoona about her recent arrangement that’s why Yoona came to her after lunch to ask for advice and critique on what she and her concept team have prepared. It’s quite overwhelming as Ms. Park is one of the respected team leaders in the Creatives.

“Ms. Yoona gave you this?” Myungsoo scoffs. Y/N’s smile immediately falls. “Why would she give you this? You don’t know anything about the work we do. You’re just Nancy’s P.A.”

Y/N internally sighs. Myungsoo has always been wary of her ever since she got in the Creatives but she never knew he will be this hostile. Still, she doesn’t want to cause any unnecessary tension so Y/N tries to placate him. She pulls a polite smile on her face, “That’s why Ms. Yoona came to me. She said since I’m with Nancy for almost 24/7, I must probably know a thing or two about what she likes to see.”

“But do you?” Myungsoo raises an eyebrow.

Y/N looks down on the papers, “Y-yeah. Somehow.”

Myungsoo sighs and drops the paper back onto the pile. “Anyway, I’m here to tell you I’m rejecting your letter of permission to get access to our cover page drafts.”

Y/N’s head shoots up, “W-what? But Yoongi—”

“I know what Mr. Min told us this week,” Myungsoo informs. “Yes, we’re tasked to walk you through the activities of our department. However, there are still protocols in our authoritative freedom and I, as a team leader, cannot just give you the drafts of our cover page. We still need more time to work on it and I cannot embarrass myself in front of Ms. Nancy about a work that has not fully taken shape yet.”

“But didn’t you hear what Yoongi said?” Y/N reasons, “I’m here to help you and I need to give updates to Nancy about everything at every end of the week. Especially now when the department is in full motion.” Y/N cannot give Nancy nothing especially now that Nancy has just emailed her that their issue’s deadline has been moved to February 17. It’s just around the corner. In fact, it’s only a matter of weeks!

“Well that’s your problem,” Myungsoo retorts, “I’m not the P.A. What I can only give you for your update reports are our initial proposed ideas.”

But they’re not enough. Y/N closes her eyes, “Look, Myungsoo. I understand that you may be feeling I’m intruding on a space I’m not supposed to. But remember, we’re working together for one company, not for ourselves.” Myungsoo looks like he’s about to bite back but Y/N cuts him to it, “I understand you may feel wary about submitting your concepts for the cover page when they’re still raw. Especially to someone like me who may not completely understand the value you place in your work. However, I cannot just give Nancy undeveloped ideas. So, how about we make a compromise? I’m not gonna push you to walk me through your cover page processing. Or argue more about your raw concepts you’re drafting as of now. But, can you give me at least the plans you made for the undeveloped ideas you’ve chosen your working concept from? So I can still, in a way, report to Nancy the plan your team is trying to execute?”

Myungsoo stares daggers into her before he mutters a clipped, “Fine. Expect to receive them by the end of the week.”

“But I have to report them at the end of the week—”

“End of the week or nothing at all?” Myungsoo sneers, “I can’t rush my artists to finish their concept-making just to take the load off your own job.”

But I’m not demanding you to make my job easier, can’t you just cooperate like an adult?!—Y/N closes her eyes and sighs, “Okay, understood, Mr. Kim.” Fighting with him won’t help anything in the pressure the department is facing.

Myungsoo turns around and wordlessly walks away. YN releases a tired sigh as she goes back onto Yoona’s papers.

Hours pass with Y/N finishing her inputs in a document file. Mina has popped by to tell her she’s leaving early to go on a date with Mark. She said she’d probably be home late so they’ll have to continue their conversation earlier tomorrow. However, that was two hours ago and now, it’s already five and almost everyone in the staff has already left the office. She only gets to realize this when a shadow peers over her cubicle.

“Hey, work’s already over now.”

Y/N looks up and sees Yoongi smiling at her. His hair was messy as always, probably from pushing them back and carding through them throughout the day. His tie is askew and his button-down is folded messily to his forearms. And his smile felt so gentle. She doesn’t know why but she lets out a relieved sigh.

“Let’s go to the Café Bistro now, yeah?”

“Okay,” Y/N smiles back.

“So…you’re the most hated person in your class for removing names of slackers off group works?”

Y/N rolls her eyes, “Didn’t you hear what I told you earlier?”

“Of course, I heard,” Yoongi chortles, scooping a spoonful of his rice bowl, “I just didn’t expect you’ll go for info-dumping in two minutes straight. You really do love to ramble a lot, no?”

Y/N looks away and stuffs her mouth with a spoonful of her own rice bowl. When she swallows down, she pins Yoongi with a glare, “You can say shit all about how I talk but just so you know, that skill got me so far to where I used to be. I wouldn’t graduate cum laude if I didn’t ace all my speech classes.”

“I’m not shitting on it. I’m admiring it.” Y/N freezes in her seat to look at the man. Yoongi chuckles. “I’m serious. You don’t have to be constantly on your guard around me, you know? Aren’t we already friends?”

“F-friends?” Y/N scoffs, “Where the hell did you get that?”

Yoongi tilts his head, “But I already got your number.”

“You forced your way to get my number.”

“I did not force you. You willingly told me your number in a game of 20 Questions.”

“You covertly formatted your questions to get me to spill my number. I did not willingly tell you my number. You coerced me.”

“I didn’t. I got your number fair and square,” Yoongi waves his phone.

“But that doesn’t—”

“And you already put a name on my number in your contacts,” Yoongi grins, “You even have an emoji next to it.”

“How did you know?”

“You opened your phone earlier on the train. And in case you don’t know, the train isn’t one of the most spacious places in the world. We’re practically side by side, look” Yoongi points to the damp patch on his shoulder, “You slept on my shoulder and even got drool on it.” Y/N looks away and stuffs her mouth with another spoon. Yoongi continues, “And with you leaving your phone open for the world to see your messaging app, it doesn’t take two years to see that someone has named you with some obnoxious contact name.” Yoongi opens his phone, “It’s okay though because I also named you this,” he flashes the phone to Y/N.

>:( Evil Peachy Pie Y/N >:(

Y/N squints at him. “Fine, a name for a name.”

“See? That’s why we’re now friends.”

Y/N scoffs, “How come?”

“Because you got me a nickname. And I got you one, sweetheart,” Yoongi winks.

Y/N’s jaw drops, “What the—you know what, go do you and go off to whatever your delusion is feeding you.”

“Yay! Y/N and I are friends!”

Y/N gawks at him. Yoongi shrugs with a smile and digs into his food.

Chatters fill the bistro. Y/N thinks it’s absurd to combine “café” and “bistro” for the name of an establishment. “It’s as if it can’t choose what type of business it really wants,” she argued earlier to Yoongi on the train. But now that she’s inside, she finally understands why. The interior design of the restaurant is covered in warm orange. The walls and the floor were in mahogany wood. The tables and chairs were metal black with curvilinear gildings, making them look like they’re supposed to be garden furniture in the first place. The plates and bowls were faux wood as well, save for the metal utensils and their glasses that came as mason jars. And the overhead lights are gorgeous. The faux candles hung up in circular mini chandeliers above the wooden ceiling give off the aesthetic of a gothic palace. Meanwhile, the bar on the center of the shop was of high-quality polished wood. A lot of people are dining like them on the tables but there are also numerous patrons who were in stools, holding different kinds of liquors in their glasses. There’s a free space in front of the bar where Y/N could see couples slow-dancing to the live jazz band playing in the corner. And with the separate menu for alcoholic drinks the waiter had given them earlier, Y/N could finally see why this cafe is also a bistro.

“So, whose names did you slash off from your group works?”

Y/N whips her head back to Yoongi, “Why are you so insistent about this?”

Yoongi pushes his empty bowl to the side. “You said everyone knows you for that. I’m just curious about the slackers who free-rode on you back then. I might even know them since I studied in the same school.” He leans back and places his arms behind his head, “You could totally help me avoid some leeches in life.”

“First of all,” Y/N points her spoon at him, “You’re the first leech you should know. You slacked off when you were my co-P.A. You slept, you didn’t take calls. You even served me raw for Nancy to roast.”

“I’m sorry.”

Y/N’s brows shoot up. “W-what?”

Yoongi leans forward and clasps his hands together. He looks at the woman in the eye, “I’m sorry about that, Y/N. Sincerely. I admit I was too much of an asshole back then. I tried to justify it by thinking you’re annoying so you deserve some annoyance in life, too. But in the end, I know I’m still wrong. You being annoying or not, what I did was still wrong. I’m sorry.”

Y/N’s jaw drops as she leans slowly back in her seat. Did Yoongi just apologize to her? Again? And for three consecutive times tonight? What is up with him?

“You don’t have to forgive me, you know? Nor am I telling you these just to get the guilt off my back. I’m sincerely sorry. I want to apologize to you.”

“W-what are you suddenly on about?” Y/N tries to laugh but the sound is weird in her ears. “You got so serious, I thought I’m suddenly talking with a stranger.” Y/N tries out a chuckle again. It sounds more convincing to her this time. She waves her hand dismissively, “Anyway, I didn’t actually answer your question. You’re talking about high school so here it goes.” She looks up at the ceiling, “Well, I’ve got Johnny Lee, Byun Baekhyun, Park Mirae, Lee Jieun, Mark Peters” Y/N cups her jaw, “What’s more? Oh! How could I forget—Jennie Kim, Im Nayeon, Daewon Lee—”

“Wait, Daewon Lee?” Yoongi sits up, “You mean Daewon the quarterback? And Jennie Kim and Im Nayeon, the cheerleaders?”

“Why?” Y/N leans forward, “You know them personally?”

“God, yes,” Yoongi laughs, “They’re awful.”

“Tell me about it,” Y/N’s eyes sparkle in interest.

“Well,” Yoongi starts, “we had this class project where we have to recreate a scene from a well-known play or movie. Our class was assigned to do Hairspray. And Jennie Kim was our class president so of course, she was horrible. She re-proved this fact when she decided to go dictator and exercise penalties on anyone who would be late for the rehearsals. She freaking imposed that we have to pay $2 for every minute we were late. All is fine if she didn’t assign her own home as the practice place and there’s a lot in the class who lives a good two miles away. And it didn’t help almost everyone just agreed with it because no one decided to contest it in fear of turning the majority against them. It was horrible. All the late fees were put in our class fund. It accumulated to about $100 at the end of the day and that’s very unfitting when NES High is a fucking public school.

“$100?” Y/N gawks.

“Yeah. Moreover, it’s unfair, because we all know at the end of the school year, the class fund will be divided among each student. With the late fees being implemented, it looks like people who are Jennie and those who live near her will benefit for free from these late fees. Luckily, someone was brave enough to stand up and talked it out with them. And of course, with Jennie being Jennie, she flipped out so the whistleblower eventually had to go to the headteacher of the event to settle the issue. I’m kinda ashamed about this incident. I’m one of the many who just went with the majority because,” Yoongi frustratedly cards through his hair, “I was a bit of a pushover back then.”

Y/N gapes, “Y-you? A pushover? Oh my god, you’re like the stereotypical nerd in movies who does a 180 to seek revenge!”

Yoongi squints at her, “Will you stop with the revenge plot you’ve been pushing since this morning?”

“Okay,” Y/N says but her face looks otherwise with her trying hard to hold in her chuckles.

Yoongi breaks into a chuckle as well, “God, you look ridiculous.”

“So are you,” Y/N laughs. When the snickers die down, she waves at Yoongi, “Go on with the story.”

“Okay,” Yoongi breathes out, “So that was the first strike for this dumb shit squad. The second was worse for it affected the whole batch. It was when the school coordinators tasked each class with a specific dance genre to perform. And Jennie, being the unnecessarily extra bitch that she was, decided to fuck up the arrangement by forcing another class to exchange their assigned piece with ours. Of course, this sparked chaos because when other classes have heard about this, they wanted to exchange, too. And soon, everyone was arguing how they want to exchange or keep their assigned pieces. It’s so messy that the teachers had to hold a batch-wide meeting with all the class officers to settle things out. Luckily, there was someone who stood up and outright pointed out it was Jennie who started it all because she did not ask for the other classes’ consent in the first place—”

“Wait, are you talking about me?” Y/N cuts him, eyes wide. “I’m the one who first called out Jennie in the meeting!” Y/N exclaims, “I can’t hold myself back that day because I’m so sick of everyone just willingly and silently enduring her bullshits! All of this wouldn’t happen in the first place if she wasn’t such a shitty, entitled person. I even remember Jennie staring daggers at me as if doing so can reverse what happened when the teacher told her off in front of the whole batch.” Y/N’s brows meet together, “How did you know about this though? Even if it was supposed to be a batch-wide meeting, not everyone was present. The teachers didn’t make the meeting compulsory especially for the students who feel uncomfortable going against another student.”

“Everyone kind of knows. News about Jennie being roasted by the teacher after a student doused her with the realest true as fuck accusation is enough of a big deal to go around the school.” Yoongi tilts his head, “I just didn’t catch wind it was you.”

“Yeah, but,” Y/N self-consciously rubs her nape, “I just did what I felt was right. I don’t like it when people just stay silent when wrongdoings are deliberately happening in their faces.”

“You’re right,” Yoongi smiles, “and because of that, I’m thinking I’m starting to admire you.” Y/N immediately freezes the heat on her chest back again. She feels it starting to spread up onto her face.

Yoongi, either unaware of her reaction or plainly indifferent about it, just smirks and continues. “Now, that I finished my story with these terrible fucks, it’s your turn. What did they do that you striked these three names off?”

Y/N lets a small smile grow on her lips as she crosses her arms. “It was Daewon who I striked first. As early as 7th grade, mind that. We were groupmates for our Bio experimental case study and he didn’t do a SINGLE thing. Very first year in high school and he’s already letting everyone know he’s a shitty groupmate. So end result? A slashed-off name and an immature ‘pity me’ cryfest in front of the professor.”

“Who’s the professor, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Y/N grins, “Mr. Ascott.”

“Oh shit, Mr. Ascott?!” Yoongi chokes a laugh, “Oh my god, and he dared to cry and ask for pity! Of all people, to the prof who detests freeloading the most?!”

“Yeah,” Y/N snickers, “That’s why it’s so hilarious! Imagine the what-the-fuck face Mr. Ascott has when this spoiled boy tried to cry his way out of his mistake. He looked like he’s about to blast harder than Mauna Kea!”

Yoongi laughs, waving a hand over. “Who’s next?”

Y/N blows out a sigh to die down her giggles, “The next one was Nayeon. 11th grade. We’re a pair this time and we’re tasked to make a research about the communication systems of a business. Whenever I tell her we need to meet up, write the paper, or even talk online for the planning at least, Nayeon kept on coming up with ridiculous excuses like how she’s come down with a fever because she ate a lot of rice or she can’t walk because of a motherfucking aching toenail. She even stood me up in the café I told her to go to, to finally get things done. Talking normally with her is impossible. So yeah, I passed the research with just my name on it.”

Y/N tilts her head, “And last but not the least, Jennie Kim. 12th grade. We had to make a lab report for Chemistry as a group. She said she’s sorry she won’t be able to contribute anything because she needs to be home soon as her mother is deeply sick in the hospital. We understood and told her it’s okay. Only for us to see in her Snapchat later she’s partying hard in a bar,” Y/N rolls her eyes, “But what irritates me most were ironically, not these.”

“Did something more happen?”

“Yes! These three didn’t see any of these as their faults! They saw it as me just being a bitch and picking on them! And because they have such loud mouths, news about me as a ‘name-remover bossy bitch’ traveled fast. Every first day in class per year, a lot of students are already looking at me funny. Throughout the school year, they go as far as ignoring and avoiding me.” YN crosses her arms and directs her eyes onto her empty bowl. “But I’m alright. I don’t care shit about what others have to say about me when I know I’m in the right. I don’t need lots of friends in the first place anyway.”

“But it must have been hard to be alone.”

Y/N’s head shoots up, “What do you mean?”

“To be hated by almost everyone in the class,” Yoongi pulls a sad smile. “It must have been painful in a way. To be treated as an outcast when you didn’t even do anything wrong.”

“I-I wouldn’t call myself an outcast during that time, you know?” Y/N picks up her glass to drink, looking away.

“Well, if you say so. I just thought it would have been…difficult to be alone most of the time. To feel as if everyone hates you. Personally, I don’t care when people talk shit about me. But this feeling that everyone just…doesn’t want to be with you hits me quite hard. I don’t know if you’ve felt this. I just know I will feel like this if I was in your position.”

Y/N, with eyes still trained away from Yoongi, just hums, “…Yeah.”

An awkward silence was starting to settle again until Yoongi breaks it with a sigh, “From all of this, I’m realizing our high school didn’t do a great job in giving us a wonderful experience.”

Y/N turns back to him. She pours water in her glass and mutters, “You’re right. High school is shit.” She leans back in her chair, glass in her hand as she looks at him. “Do you have more bitter stories to tell?”

Yoongi fiddles with his fingers. “Well, there’s one. I mean, there’s a lot because high school wasn’t that kind to people like me back then. But this one really stuck with me. I’ve been…friends with a lot of toxic people throughout high school. At first, I didn’t notice it. How they lowkey downgrade me whenever we hangout. How they always make me the butt of their jokes. How they always leave me out in any of their fun plans for getaways. I even tried justifying their actions, telling myself it’s probably I’m not yet too cool for them. That I still need to fit more with them. And when I finally realized the wrongness in this during one summer, I cut them all out in my life. Only to end up in another friend circle that turned out to be also toxic. Though it’s less toxic than my first one, it’s still toxic. They made me feel bad for doing my best in school, calling me such a conformist to the education system as if it’s so wrong. They made me feel horrible for just studying and preparing too much for quizzes and exams, telling me I’m just investing a lot of time on something I wouldn’t even use when I work. And for the second time, I justified my ‘friends.’ I thought maybe they’re right. I have to listen to them because maybe they’ll leave me and I will have no one else who’d be willing to be friends with me. I only got the wake-up call when my grades all fell down and I had to repeat 10th grade.”

Y/N’s eyes grow large, “B-but, you said it was because of Thesis Writing?”

“Yeah. Thesis Writing was the one that maimed me bad. But what led me to fail it so terribly was because of these second group of friends…Rina, Johnson, and Fei—

Y/N immediately holds up her hands, “Wait, I-I-you don’t have to tell me their names if you don’t want to, Yoongi. You—I don’t know, maybe the memories come back and trigger you—I-I’m not that eager to know their names, you know? I just want to listen to you.”

Yoongi chuckles and Y/N’s eyes only grow more. “I’m telling you their names because I already got over it, Y/N,” Yoongi informs. “I already feel comfortable telling this to you, sweetheart. Though I have to admit I’m loving what you said a little too much.”

Y/N frowns, “Wh-why do you have to say stupid shit like this? Can’t you just continue your story?”

“I have to say these because you’re being cute.” Y/N only frowns more. Yoongi chuckles, “Okay, okay, I’ll go back to my story.” He heaves out a sigh, “So, these Rina, Johnson, and Fei—well, they made me feel the efforts I put into studying will be pointless. That the dreams I have will be unattainable anyway because the world will never let them come true for people like me—not rich, not talented, not smart enough. And because of this mentality discouraging me whenever I try too hard, coupled with the messed-up confidence I had because of my first friendship circle, I turned out to be a…horrible speaker. But I think I shouldn’t blame them for this. I also have faults in this because after all, this is my life. Maybe I’m too easily swayed, easily discouraged, and too dependent on other’s company back then.”

“You’re right on that,” Y/N says, “but I think the people who have affected you to be what you were back then are rightfully justified to be blamed for. Or even deserve the greater blame. We’re teenagers and we do stupid things. And during our teenage years where we feel so confused about just everything, what mattered the most was the feeling of belongingness. The feeling of belonging to someone or something. This feeling gives us a way to identify ourselves and our purpose. Erik Erikson’s Stages of Psychosocial Development even say so. Yeah, we also have faults in ourselves that are worth blaming for and working on, but people are social beings. And most of the time, we become who we are because of other’s words, actions, and influence,” Y/N pulls her lips in an attempt to send him a comforting smile, “You don’t have to beat up yourself too much.”

“Whoa,” Yoongi gapes, “Just…wow.” He shakes his head, “I don’t even know what to say…And this is weird because I always know what to say,” Yoongi chuckles and Y/N follows suit. “I mean,” Yoongi tongues his cheek, “How did you come up with these?”

“Because I also experienced having friends like you had.”

You did?” It’s Yoongi’s turn to gawk at her.

“Yeah,” Y/N purses her lips. “It was in high school too. Even if I was lucky I skipped 8th and 9th grade, I wasn’t immune to toxic people. The friends I had in my first year, honestly…scar me until now. They downed me too many times, too, telling me I’m not that good, or I’m too intimidating for people would like to be with. They even called me annoying,” Y/N cackles. But her laugh soon dies down when she looks at Yoongi’s unamused look. “U-um,” She ducks her head down and fiddles with the seams of her blazer, “That’s not really funny, I’m sorry.”

“They’re not,” Yoongi deadpans, “Especially when it’s deprecating the person you should first and foremost care: You.”

Y/N’s head shoots up.

Yoongi lets a small smile grace over his face. “Go on with your story.”

“U-uh, yeah,” Y/N opts to play with her fingers this time, “So yeah, I ended up…downing myself, too. Berating and insulting myself even worse than those toxic people did. I even discouraged myself from even trying. I stopped myself before I even get to start at something that induces passion within me—dance, art, singing, whatever. I halt myself first before anyone can. Other’s words against me hurt me more than my own words. The only silver lining I had was when I got to 10th grade and met Mina,” Y/N grins. “Even if I still get reminded of the scars I got from my ex-friends, I’m grateful I also learned what’s it really like to have a friend for the first time.” Y/N turns to Yoongi, “What about you? Did you find at least…one friend before high school ended?”

“More than one actually,” Yoongi smiles. “I met three in 11th grade. Namjoon, Taehyung, and Jimin. Even if Namjoon graduated earlier, we three eventually met each other again in college. God, ever since I befriended those three, I never knew again what it’s like to be a loner. I know it’s kinda late that I get to enjoy high school but I had the most fun I could ever have in those last two years. Though college is still god-tier. That’s when I was really the happiest” Yoongi chuckles. He leans back in his chair and sighs, “Even if the majority of the memories our high school gave us were shit, I think it still tried its best to give everyone a memorable experience.” Yoongi smiles, “What’s a memorable experience you could thank the school for?”

Y/N opens her mouth but Yoongi quickly cuts her short, “And no, don’t say it’s meeting real friends. Other than that, any memorable experiences you had?”

Y/N looks to her right, brows scrunched, “Hmm…it had to be…Oh! The science expo held in our gym in our last year!”

“The expo? The one they held as our ‘field trip’—in our very last year of high school at that—because they ‘lack’ funds for an actual one?”

“Yeah,” Y/N smiles wide, “I actually enjoyed it a lot. There’s a large model of the Megalodon jaws wide open that you have to step into to enter the expo. Its teeth are so big and gosh, I love sharks. I love the documentaries about them. And oh, there’s also a bus that’s remodeled to have lab tables instead of seats. We get to look at microscopes magnifying different microorganisms and micro-things. It’s like a running test in chem but fun! And my favorite one had to be the astronomy tent-dome. I call it that because it’s a humongous black sheet of a tent that’s shaped to look like a dome. We had to crawl inside to get in. It reminded me of how I loved to play pillow forts in my room when I was a kid. And then inside, there’s someone there who actually works at NASA that plays the videos of constellations on the dome above us. And he’s amazing because he knows all the stars in the Milky Way! He even broke the myth concerning your birth month and Zodiac sign. The constellations of your Zodiac sign don’t usually appear during your ‘zodiac month’!”

“They don’t?”

“Yeah! I’m an Aries and yet the constellation most apparent in the sky during my month is Libra instead. I’ve never seen the Aries constellation before on my birthday. It’s always Libra. Okay, don’t look at me like I’m a hoe for Astrology—I’m not. I just fell in love with Astronomy after that expo and I ended up memorizing a lot of constellations and trying to point them out in the sky and—

“I’m not looking at you like you’re a ‘hoe for Astrology,’” Yoongi quotes, chuckling. “I’m looking at you because honestly, I’m amazed by you. Really. I never enjoyed that expo, because honestly, I like learning the actual stuff in real-time. But to have you spouting such mindblowing trivia and how you just talk so animatedly about it makes me want to time travel to that day and re-experience it. Really, you amaze me.

Y/N coughs into her hand, an attempt to out-volume the thrumming tinnitus she feels between her lungs. She pulls a tight smile and looks up at Yoongi, “What about you? What memorable experience did you have to thank high school for?”

“The prom,” Yoongi grins. “It’s my first time to be in such a glamorous setting that I instantly thought it would be my last time I could ever experience such pizzaz. Everyone looked so regal. There are ball gowns, luxurious suits, glittering decors, and lush carpeting I could spend years standing on just because it feels so pillowy soft beneath my feet. The venue had gothic pillars and renaissance paintings and rose-gold gilded chandeliers that hang above, looking like it hooked all the stars in the galaxy beneath its dangling diamonds. The food was great, too. I honestly couldn’t believe a public high school could afford this—well, there’s actually a lot of upper-middle-class families who pitched in some money but I only found out about this two weeks after the prom. Although we had a grad ball, it still couldn’t top 10th-grade prom. Sure, there’s a lot of people mingling and I’m too much of an introvert to enjoy socializing. But when I just sat and watch the party go, the picture in front of me looked so similar to the Yule Ball shown in the Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire movie and it’s just so fascinating. And—wait, why are you looking like that?”

“N-nothing,” Y/N shakes her head. She also hopes to shake away the utter wonder that must be obvious in her face. Mina always said she shows excitement so easily on her face.

And too bad Yoongi pushes her buttons so well that he could easily read her. “What ‘nothing’? You look so amazed as if you’ve never been to a prom—wait, you’ve never been to prom, haven’t you?”

There’s no point to lie otherwise. Y/N looks down at her lap and admits, “You’re right. I’ve never been to prom. Or even the grad ball.”

“Why?”

“Because I find them a waste of money. Hundreds of money for a dress you’ll never wear again and spend a couple more for the admission when you’re just gonna sit at the table for the whole time. The grad ball was an inconvenience because it’s set on the day before my birthday and of course, my birthday is worth celebrating more than the grad ball.” Yoongi chuckles at that and a small smile forms on Y/N’s lips. However, it quickly dissolves into a straight line as she continues, “And I didn’t go to prom because it’s stupid. The admission fee you have to pay is honestly over-priced. Of course, all of the payment won’t go to the rented place because the school is still gonna get a percentage from it. Then everyone is just gonna dance around and get wasted and you’ll just have to seat throughout the whole meltdown because you’re responsible and aside from that,” Y/N heaves out a huge sigh, “there’s a high probability you’ll bump into a horrible boy.”

“Oh!” Yoongi claps loudly, “A boy problem—!”

“I’m not gonna tell you his name,” Y/N points a finger at him. “It’s all in the past and, I’m just,” Y/N sighs, “well, over it.”

“What did he do?” Yoongi asks, tone soft, a lot less bombastic as his previous exclamation. “What did he do to—I don’t know, give up prom to avoid him?” He sits up straight and holds up his hands, “If you don’t mind me asking and if you feel okay to answer it, of course. If not, it’s also totally okay, and—”

“He gave me false hope,” Y/N deadpans, swirling the water in her glass. “I thought there’s something developing between us because he does an awful lot of sweet things for me like letting me lay my head on his shoulder whenever I need to catch on some sleep in our school service. He even helps me carry my things and walk me to class. Only for me to find out he actually likes another girl in our school service. I felt used. Like a ploy to get the girl he likes to be jealous of us.” Y/N sets her jaw on her palm. “And so, I didn’t go to prom. Because I know that girl will reject him when he asked for her first dance ‘cus she already got a mutual thing going on with her classmate. And I don’t want to be a second choice, a back-up plan someone will opt for when their first choice didn’t work out. I’m not going to be a reserve part for something someone built with a different part in mind.” Y/N takes a sip on her glass. She places it back on the table, “I still feel aggravation for him so I don’t want to hear his name again. But I’m over him now, so you don’t have to look at me like that.”

“L-like what?” Yoongi asks, pulling on the collar of his gray button-down.

“Like you’re angry for me. We’re not yet close to be feeling this way.”

“But we’re friends.”

“You’re the only one who decided on that label.”

“We are friends.”

“Whatever satisfies you of your delusions—”

“And because we’re friends, I could tell you wished you experienced prom.”

“W-what?” Y/N’s jaw drops.

Yoongi smiles at her, “You don’t have to hide it Y/N. I know you.” He stands up from his seat and offers a hand to her, “Now, let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” Y/N asks, still seated.

“We’ll dance.” Yoongi’s smile widens. “The Café Bistro has a wonderful live band playing and as you can see, there’s also a lot of people dancing to the lovely songs they’re playing…This is the closest setting we can have to a prom.”

Y/N gulps down a nervous breath as she looks up at Yoongi’s eyes. She takes his hand.

Yoongi leads her to the center of the slow-dancing throng of people. The live band plays in front of them, a group of wonderful men and women wearing elegant black gowns and suits, playing classical instruments to the music of popular love songs. Everything looks pleasant even if nothing about this set-up is grand. The couples are just in casual clothes but watching them have fun slow-dancing to the music feels like they’re actually in a ball. And the faux candles that hung above the Café Bistro doesn’t look like chandeliers in a Gothic palace anymore. They’re bright and glittering as if the café fished all the stars from the night sky to hang onto their own makeshift sky. Yoongi’s right. This indeed looks like a prom.

“Hmm, am I right now?”

Y/N turns to him and playfully pokes his shoulder, “Shut up.” A second no longer need to pass by when a huge smile makes its way onto Y/N’s face.

Y/N and Yoongi had their hands interlocked as they move to the rhythm. Yoongi initially proposed to have their hands and feet positioned for waltz only for Y/N to bump her head on his shoulder to get him to shut up. Yoongi only ends up cackling obnoxiously.

Stepping side to side, arms swaying by their sides, they look like two adult penguins waddling towards each other. When Y/N pointed this out, Yoongi bursts into another set of cackles.

However, when the song changes and A Thousand Years by Christina Perri starts to play, Yoongi’s chuckles instantly die down and a mindboggling statement escapes from his lips.

“Put your hands around my neck.”

“What? Are you fucking crazy?”

“Hey, the song is romantic.”

“So?” Y/N raises a brow, “What does it logically have to do with putting my arms around your neck? And also, this song is one hell of a cliché. A love song bulldozered and abused over and over again in every debut, wedding, and prom—”

“It’s played over and over again because a lot of people relate to it. Who wouldn’t? It talks about love.”

“Well, I wouldn’t.”

Yoongi sighs, “Look, all the couples here are slow dancing to this song and since we’re already posing as one, might as well copy them.”

“Well, I don’t wanna.”

“If you’re thinking this will be a revolutionary moment between us, I’m already informing you it won’t be. It’s just slow dancing,” Yoongi shrugs, “We did this in prom. It’s not that special, to be honest. I’m tryna offer you the prom experience, remember?”

Y/N focuses her eyes on the seams of her blazer, a petty frown on her face. “I’m positively sure we’ll look stupid if we slow dance so I’d rather not. In case you don’t know, I hate embarrassing myself.”

“Hey, you don’t get to sound so sure with your prediction when you haven’t tried it out yet. I’m just asking you if you would feel okay to slow dance with me. But if not, I will totally understand—”

Y/N loops her arms around Yoongi’s neck. “There,” she hisses, “Satisfied?”

“Very,” Yoongi grins, looping his arms around her frame, gently placing his hands on the back of her waist.

“Now shut up,” Y/N turns her face away from him. She could feel Yoongi so close. She could feel the breath he lets out comb past her hair. She could feel the warmth from his neck seemingly transfer onto her hands. His chest is just an inch apart from hers for him to discover the rapid beating reverberating there ever since this day started. Y/N closes her eyes and sighs. She doesn’t understand why she’s feeling this way. She chucks it down to the theory that it’s just been a long day. She’s astounded to learn Yoongi was her high school batchmate, then Myungsoo turned up and made her frustrated, and now she’s practically having fun because Yoongi offered an entire 180 from her previous emotional state.

But maybe it’s also because it’s been so long since Y/N received physical intimacy. It’s been ages she felt a warmth from another person’s touch. She couldn’t even remember being so enthralled just because someone platonically wanted to dance with her. But then, it could just be her desire to get over these ten dates required by DRM speaking for her body. The sooner the better they say and as of now, she’s nailing down their third date document.

Y/N knows this must be the answer when the night deepens and the band plays the last song for the night. After receiving a pale pink envelope from the sweet manager, the night dwindles fast to where she is now: walking home, side by side with Yoongi. She thought there was a reason Yoongi picked a date site that would require them to take a train first. She just didn’t expect she will get the answer to this when Yoongi offered to walk her home. ‘It just a ten-minute walk from here,’ Yoongi insisted. And right now, it looks like he’s right because it’s only a matter of time until they reach the entrance of the Village Estates.

“So, we’re here now,” Yoongi says, sliding his hands into his coat pockets.

“Yeah,” Y/N smiles back. Then she perks up, suddenly remembering something, “By the way, how come did you know about Café Bistro?”

Yoongi leans toward her, face leveling hers. “We work for a travel magazine, Y/N. Of course, we should know about this stuff. Our Writing Department even did a feature about it.” Y/N’s brows shoot up. Yoongi leans back, putting space between them again, “I’ve been wondering ever since we got in as to why you looked so amazed at the Bistro as if it’s your first time seeing something like that. And now I know why. It is indeed your first time. You’ve never been to a lot of tourist spots before, much less even those near you.”

“No. I’ve been to a lot, actually,” Y/N lies through her mouth.

“I don’t think so,” Yoongi quips. Y/N frowns. Yoongi’s smile widens, “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll take you to places you’ve never been before.”

His gaze on her was not teasing, nor was it mischievous. And Y/N decides she doesn’t like it when she can’t tell the look in his eyes. She takes a step back and clears her throat. “Goodnight, Yoongi,” she bids, and then she starts for the entrance.

Just when the peace of the night is about to settle on her, Yoongi, of course, decides to break it one last time.

“I had fun tonight, girlfriend! Or should I say girl-friend?”

Y/N continues with her steps, raising a middle finger in his direction. Yoongi laughs and that’s the last sound Y/N hears for the night as she enters her empty flat.

A text from Mina says she’s going home in an hour. After preparing her bestfriend a midnight snack just in case she’s still hungry, Y/N turns on the lights on their hallway and resigns herself in her room. Picking the date document from her bag and the other two on her counter, Y/N plops onto her bed, holding up the pale pink envelopes above her face. It’s been a while since she had fun collecting these pretty envelopes. When she first encountered these date documents five years ago, she thought they were silly. But as she twirls them under the light of her room, she thinks they’re actually genius. After all, attention and quality time spent together are good measures to see if a couple is really dating.

“We just need seven more,” Y/N whispers, closing her eyes. As the starless night grows darker outside her window, the coffee-stained scent of today’s pale pink envelope lulls Y/N to sleep with a smile on her face.

DAY 5 — January 30; Thursday

Y/N is at her wit’s end. It’s already 12 in the noon and nothing terrible has happened yet. It’s Thursday. Thursdays are supposed to already have it bad for her the moment the day starts. But Y/N woke up feeling nice from a good night’s sleep. It was early so she had a fun breakfast with her bestfriend where they spent an extra half-hour talking about each other’s dates. Though it sounded more like Mina’s the only one who went to an actual date because Y/N spent the majority of her turn to speak ranting about Yoongi’s smugness and whatnot. The train wasn’t crowded when she commuted to work. She and Mina even managed to get seats at seven. And in the office, nothing unwanted has happened yet. Well, of course, there’s Yoongi who still won’t stop sending her weird texts and occasional winks. Everything is okay and normal as usual until—

“Hey, Y/N, wanna have lunch with us?”

Y/N turns in her swivel chair and there standing by the Accounting’s glass door were three people. Dana Lee, Jeff Anderson, and Ahn Seojoon.

Dana continues, smiling at her, “If you didn’t have lunch yet, of course.”

Y/N whirls to face Mina before turning around back to Dana, forehead furrowed, “I’m sorry, Dana, Mina and I already have—”

“No, Y/N hasn’t lunched yet!”

Y/N whips her head to her bestfriend. Mina smiles at her, “Y/N, you should go ahead.”

Y/N sighs, “But Mina, you would be alone today. We always eat lunch together. And aren’t you supposed to tell me more of what happened in the show you’re watching?”

Mina claps her friend’s shoulder, “Y/N, it’s alright. We see each other in and outside the office every day. We can just talk later when you get home. Or tomorrow if you end up having another date tonight with Yoongi. After all, you told me before you want to have more friends in the office. Well, here is the chance!”

“What chance are you talking about? And when the hell did I say I want more friends—”

“Dana,” Mina hollers, “Y/N said she’ll go!”

This chance, however, was not what Y/N expected it to be. Because now, Y/N finds herself in some Mexican restaurant with three pairs of curious eyes focused on her and an unexpected guest sitting beside her.

Y/N crosses her arms. “You didn’t tell me Yoongi would be here.” “Well, surprise?” Jeff shrugs.

“We figured since you and Mr. Min are…really close, why not invite him?” Seojoon explains.

“So,” Dana twirls her straw around her smoothie, “what’s the thing between you and Yoongi?”

Y/N perks up in her seat. Jeff gawks at Dana. “Why did you have to be so straightforward about it?”

“So we can finally get the answers we’ve all been waiting for,” Dana says matter-of-factly. “For one year these two are like oil and water. And then this week they’ve become chummy-chummy. I always knew there’s something going on between you two but I can never point it out. And now that you two decided to come out in the open, I guess I can also finally get my answers.” She turns back to Y/N, “So, what are you two really?”

“Yoongi’s my, um, special friend—”

“Y/N’s my girlfriend—”

Dana’s brows twitch. Yoongi quickly reaches over to pinch Y/N’s cheeks, “Oh sweetheart, you don’t need to feel so shy anymore. We’re no longer special friends so start feeling comfy to call yourself my girlfriend.”

Seojoon coughs into his hand. Dana and Jeff slowly nod. Jeff leans forward, “So…how did you two meet?”

“In high school. We’re kinda friends—”

“In the office. It’s love at first sight—”

Y/N eyes Yoongi. Yoongi grins. Y/N looks back at Jeff, but not without pinching Yoongi’s leg to stop him from spouting any more bullshit. Y/N smiles, “Yoongi and I met back in high school. We were batchmates.”

“Oh, high school sweethearts!” Seojoon claps, grinning.

“Not necessarily,” Y/N says, “We just kinda knew each other back then. And then we met each other again in Travel Loca.”

“I see,” Dana holds her chin, as if in thought, “You two sure looked like you’ve known each other for so long…You know each other so well that you get to hit each other’s flaws so accurately whenever you bicker. Right?” Dana looks at Y/N.

“Right,” Y/N grins. She unconsciously gulps down a nervous chuckle. “I-it wouldn’t make sense if we insult each other so well when we don’t know each other for a long time right? More even, fall in love?”

From the corner of her eye, Y/N could see Yoongi’s head tilt, lips pursed together. It’s his face when he’s about to voice disagreement. She pinches his leg again to get him back to his senses.

“Ye-yeah,” Yoongi stutters, “You must know a person for a long time before you can insult them well. Or love them.”

Dana and Jeff nod their heads slowly, looking convinced. Except for Seojoon. The intern shakes his head, “I think not. You don’t need to know a person for a long time to fall in love. Or to even insult them. Hate or love—it just happens.”

“Yeah,” Jeff agrees. “I think this felt more right. It doesn’t really require you long to hate another person for some unexplainable reason. Or fall in love with them.”

“How did you know about this?” Y/N asks, clicking her tongue.

Jeff looks unbothered by the questioning look on Y/N’s face. He leans back in his seat with a smile, “Because that’s how my girlfriend and I got together. We only knew each other for three weeks and it didn’t take me a day longer to know I’m whipped for her. In those three weeks, we even spent the first week really hating each other bad,” Jeff chuckles, “We used to scream at each other for hours across the windows of our apartments.”

The furrows in Y/N’s forehead deepen, “B-but, how did you love her when you just hated her a week ago?”

“Because love and hate have a lot of similarities,” Jeff says. “I think there’s a fine line between such differing emotions. People say it’s an end-to-end spectrum but I think that spectrum may not be as long as people make it out to be. I think they’re just two ends that sit opposite to each other. Anyone can cross from one to another and vice versa so easily. Kinda explains why you can love someone while also hating them a bit. And why you can hate or love something for so long and not consider changing your stance. Even if love is just a bridge away, its whole argument opposes the argument of hate. That’s why it feels the spectrum of love is a very long road to take—a wall too high to reach, making it hard for transitioning from one end to another. But, I don’t know,” Jeff shrugs, grinning. “Life is complex. Sometimes love and hate…just happens.”

Seojoon and Dana nod slowly. However, Y/N feels otherwise. ‘Easy and hard to cross’? ‘It just happens’? What kind of nonsense is this—Y/N opens her mouth to argue—If not for Yoongi clasping a hand around her shoulders and urging her to stand up from her seat, “I’ll think we’ll order more tacos for us. My treat. We’ll be real quick.”

Yoongi drags Y/N to the line forming in front of the cashier. When they’re a couple of steps away from the group, Y/N shrugs his arms away from her shoulders. She glares at him, “What do you think are you doing?”

Yoongi tongues his cheek, “I should be the one asking you that! What do you think are you doing there? Trying to argue with my friends about something so trivial like Jeff’s perception of love? It’s his views, let him be!”

Y/N crosses her arms, “Jeff is spouting nonsense. I just felt the need to correct him.”

“How would you know Jeff is spouting nonsense? You’re not the one who fell in love with his neighbor he used to scream at across his flat.”

Y/N looks down at her shoes, “Okay…I’m sorry. I know, I know, I’m being a bitch again.”

Yoongi gapes at her, “W-wait, are you apologizing? You? The great Y/N L/N?”

Y/N whips her head to him, pinning him with a glare, “Why? You think I’m incapable of apologizing?”

“Nope,” Yoongi quips, smiling, “I’m just thinking how fast you grew. It was just two days ago you’re struggling so hard to apologize. Now, you just easily admitted to your mistake. I’m proud of you.”

Y/N’s jaw goes slack. “Are you saying I’m an unapologetic bastard to everyone before?”

“To me actually,” Yoongi corrects. “But that was back then. You’re quite…more okay now.”

Y/N gawks at him in disbelief. But before she could utter another counter-statement, Yoongi’s already in front of the cashier, ordering for another platter of tacos. When they got back to their seats, the past conversation seems to have already dissipated. Yoongi starts the conversation this time about what they used to do in high school and college and soon enough, their table is erupting with giggles and high-pitched ‘Oh no you didn’t!” Y/N learned Jeff used to study in an art school. Seojoon used to join competitive pep squad rallies in college. And, Dana chose Travel Loca from a lot of tempting job offers because like Y/N, Dana likes Nancy’s vision for travel journalism as a travel-enthusiast like herself. Likewise, the three were enthusiastic in knowing Y/N—how she managed to skip two years of high school, her one-sided love for music because she cannot, for the life of her, play even a single instrument, and how she has so many random facts about the flower language, color theories, cooking techniques—hell even some trivia about the praying mantis—all because of reading a lot of books. Yoongi even chipped in of how great she can turn scenarios in a completely different one just because of her creative way of seeing things, to which Y/N blushes. The memory of their fast food drive-in date oddly makes her insides queasy.

It’s been a while since Y/N felt she belonged to a group that values her skills and preferences. Moreover, to have Yoongi be so generous in hyping her up whenever it’s her turn to speak makes her feel a blanket of warmth is surrounding her. A warmth much heart-fluttering than the one provided by his arm embracing her shoulder and his occasional hand-holding. When she first felt his pinky reaching for hers, Y/N’s first instinct was to move away. But the tingling heat creeping onto her cheeks oddly makes her not want to let go. Moreso when Yoongi finally envelops her whole hand with his larger one.

Y/N doesn’t know how long they last like that but when Yoongi moves to disentangle himself from her, Y/N feels the warmth in her chest fade too fast than she liked. She turns to him curious, before her eyes glance at the wall clock of the restaurant in the corner. It’s already one forty-five. She didn’t know the time has passed so fast. Yoongi gets up from his seat, “You can go ahead outside. I’ll just get something from the cashier.”

Y/N looks at him with a questioning gaze. Nevertheless, she turns back to her seat and wordlessly follows Dana, Jeff, and Seojoon as they exit the restaurant. Once outside, Dana suddenly turns toward her.

“You and Mr. Min look like you’re still newbies in dating.”

Y/N’s eyes widen, “U-uh, how did you say so?”

“Because you two look like you’re still tiptoeing around each other whenever one initiates some skinship,” Dana shrugs. “Don’t worry. It’s always like that at the start of a relationship.”

“Yeah. You two might want to start transferring the intensity in your eyes to some physical touchy-touching,” Seojoon suggests, only to get playfully hit on the head by Jeff. Seojoon rubs the sore spot, “What? I’m just saying the truth! It’s normal to crave physical intimacy. Touching and being near someone you love is an inherent need!”

“Yeah, but they’re just starting, Seojoon,” Jeff reiterates. He turns to Y/N, “Why don’t you try going to a bar?”

“A bar?” Y/N asks, eyes wide.

“Yeah, a bar. There’s a nice one along 11th Avenue. Neo-Cloud 9. Great place and drinks, cheap price. Oh, and amazing music. Their DJs don’t play the typical LSD-inducing club music. You two need to loosen up, you know? It’s not good to always hole yourselves at work. And also,” a Cheshire smile grows on Jeff’s lips, “Yoongi loves to drink alcohol after a long day. He just seems like the bar-type of a guy.”

Before Y/N can ask what he means, the door of the restaurant swings open. Yoongi grins at them, “Let’s get going now.” The three nod and walk ahead, Jeff and Seojoon laughing about something again with Dana playfully hitting them to tell them to shut up.

Yoongi walks ahead of Y/N to turn around and walk backward on the pavement, facing the girl. Y/N raises a brow at him.

Yoongi grins and pulls out a pale pink envelope before falling back into step with her. “I thought of asking for a date document since we’re quite being handsy in there. Good thing the cashier saw it, too. Even said we’re cute for being shy in holding each other’s hands.” Yoongi wiggles his brows, smirking. “Didn’t know we’re being cute, sweetheart.”

“…Yeah,” Y/N looks away, lips pursed.

“Are you sure you want to date here?”

The street is bustling alive. Neon signs hang from all walls and awnings. Street arts bask in matte or glow-in-the-dark spray paint. The smell of alcohol, cigarette stench, and the delicious smell of sizzling plates compound together and yet it isn’t acrid to the nose; it’s oddly alluring. All the stars in the sky seem to have fallen down on the streets because all sorts of lights try to illuminate every inch of the pavement. It’s 11th Avenue. The place with different people from all sorts of places. Foreigners and locals piling in different corners. There are people who look newly-legal, celebrating their privilege in reaching 21. And there are some dressed over-the-top, ready to spend the whole night getting wasted. Bands of friends also jump into the mix, hoping to have fun clubbing and drinking and maybe meeting someone new. And there are also people who look like they’ve just gotten off from work. Like them.

Y/N turns to Yoongi, unbuckling her seat belt. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

The interior of Neo-Cloud 9 is far from its name. Y/N expected to have all sorts of pleasure-in-bottles lined up like the perfect temptation, a pit filled with heavenly decors and people, a place you wouldn’t want to get out of. But what she only gets is a classic bar and club, walls painted in grey softened by the bright moving lights. A marble-black bar stands in the right corner containing all sorts of imaginable liquor. The floor is carpeted in starry black, and the seats and booths are covered in lush-looking leather. There are people in dressy suits seated comfy in their faux silver tables in one corner, and there are some moving to the beat on the dance floor. But the bar doesn’t look wild or something that could scream fantastical luxury, much less ‘Cloud 9.’ Jeff must be right. This looks like a good place with good drinks, all for a cheap price.

It doesn’t take long for Y/N to find themselves seated in a booth, a footed pilsner of mojito in front of her a shot glass and a bottle of tequila in front of Yoongi.

Y/N takes small sips of her drink. Yoongi downs a shot. He picks up the lime on the plate and chews on it. When he’s finished a piece of his chaser, he looks at Y/N. “Why did you want to go here?”

“Well…I’ve never been to a bar before.”

“You’ve never been to a bar?” Yoongi gawks, placing his glass down on the table. “Like, ever?”

“Nope.” Y/N places her glass on the table and looks at Yoongi, “And I’ve never drunk any alcohol before.”

“This is your first time?”

“Yup. My parents told me not to drink while I’m studying. And coincidentally, I’ve never liked the concept of drinking so…good for them. I’ve never liked parties and places like this.”

“Then why did we go here?”

“Because Jeff told me you like to drink.”

“I do like drinking,” Yoongi nods, “but I wouldn’t insist to go here if you never liked places like this.”

“Yeah, I don’t like places like this. But it doesn’t hurt to get at least experience from it, right?” Y/N raises her brows and sips on her glass.

Silence fills the space between them. Y/N orders another glass of mojito. And another. Yoongi warns her she might get drunk too fast. /N disagrees and the stable tone in her voice supports her argument. Meanwhile, Yoongi had already tried raising a conversation topic about five times now. “Another person to rant about in high school?” “Any memories of childhood?” “What got you into loving writing?”—hell, he even tried to pick a fight by bringing up Y/N’s predicament under Nancy, but all of them ended in conversational dead-ends. Either Y/N answers in replies designed for the finality of a conversation, or she switches the topic to a trivial one, such as what he thinks of Kylie Jenner’s plastic surgeries. What only seems to pass through were shallow one-worded answer questions.

“Uno or Monopoly?”

“Uno.”

It’s even fortunate if Yoongi could get Y/N to expand her answer.

“Would you rather be a…book or a car?”

“What does that even mean?” Y/N cackles.

“Just answer!”

“Okay, a book!”

But it’s fine for him. It’s better than having nothing.

“Okay, do you dislike…being sweaty?”

“Nope. You?”

“Also no,” Yoongi chuckles. He crosses his arms on the table, “Do you like to play crane games in arcades?”

“Hmm, yes…But only if someone will win it for me. I suck at it. And it’s a waste of money, too,” Y/N bites on a chip. “What about you? Do you like playing it?”

“Not if I’m alone. If I had somebody with me, I sure like it. I love feeling somebody getting thrilled with me.”

Y/N looks down at her glass. She traces its rim with a finger, “We’ve already got four date documents.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi brings up his glass to his mouth. “But why are you suddenly bringing it up?”

“Just clarifying what we’re here for.”

Yoongi’s hand stills.

Y/N sighs, “We have to keep our eyes on the goal, okay? After all, we’re just doing this stuff to get approved for the PRS-change.” Y/N focuses her eyes on her hands, “We’re doing okay with the date documents. But we need to worry about the accounts of our relationship witnesses. I’ve only got Mina and of course, Ms. Teddy. But that’s only two. We need eight more—”

“We only need five more,” Yoongi places down his glass on the table, “We’ve already got Dana, Jeff, and Seojoon roped in, too. Actually, four more, because Ms. Yoona already believes we’re into each other the day I re-introduced you. We already have six.”

“How are you sure about that?”

“Didn’t Ms. Yoona bid you good luck with me?”

Y/N’s jaw falls slack. “H-how did you know that? I-I thought you only heard Jeff and Seojoon that night?”

“I was already standing near the door. Of course, I heard everything. That’s why I know you’re denying we��re into each other. Put us up to fail,” Yoongi meets her eyes, “Again.”

Y/N stares at him.

“We’ve already got Dana, Seojoon, and Jeff for sure. Dana was asking me earlier about the intimacy in the break room yesterday. Seojoon and Jeff eat up any gossip Dana feeds them. Plus, those three are my friends. So if we’ll need to be desperate, I can put up an act and request them to write for us.” Yoongi looks away and downs a shot, “But I think what we did in the restaurant was already enough. I don’t know what other act could be more convincing than that.”

Y/N hums. After that, silence again. It doesn’t last long though, not until her 5th order of mojito is placed on their table. But instead of uttering a word, Y/N makes a move to snatch the shot glass of tequila in front of Yoongi.

“What are you doing?” Yoongi raises a brow, placing his glass farther away from her reach.

Y/N only continues to make grabby hands at him. “I’ve only been drinking cocktails this whole night. Wanna taste some hard liquor, too, y’know?”

“Y/N,” Yoongi sighs, “You’re gonna get drunk. Your house is far from here.”

“So?” Y/N tilts her head. “You borrowed Steven’s car tonight. You’re gonna drive me home anyway. Drunk or not.”

“Yeah, but you told me earlier Mina is gonna sleep over at Mark’s. And I cannot carry you up to your apartment—should you get drunk— because if you’re wasted, you cannot confirm to your security you actually know me if I were to help you get in your flat. And that won’t ever happen because not in a million years will I carry your fat ass in any possible chance—”

“Yaddah, yaddah, blah, blah, blah,” Y/N leans forward on the table. “You always have something to say, no, Yoongi?”

Yoongi clicks his tongue. “As if you’re not also like that.”

“You don’t need to worry,” Y/N waves off. “Surprisingly, I’m not yet drunk. See?”

Yoongi gulps. It’s hard to argue otherwise if Y/N knows she indeed looks and sounds very sober.

“So,” Y/N reaches for his shot glass again, “why can’t you just let me have a taste of tequila? It’s my first time after all. I just wanna experience what I’ve missed on during high school and college.”

That’s all it takes for Yoongi to sigh and finally relent. Soon enough, Y/N is almost bouncing on her seat as she triumphantly places the tequila-filled shot glass in front of her. With a grin, Y/N picks a lime on the saucer and hovers it above her drink and—

Yoongi catches her elbow. “That’s not how you do it.” He scoots across the booth to sit next to her. He gets the lime from her hands, “You don’t drop the lime in your drink like you’re trying to make lime water. You dip your hand in salt first and suck it.” He pushes the plate of salt towards her.

Y/N looks at him funny. Yoongi rolls his eyes. “You said this is your first time drinking. I’m just trying to teach you how it’s supposed to go so it would taste better. Look,” Yoongi points to her shot glass, “the tequila is distilled so it has a high percentage of alcohol. It’s a hard liquor and will definitely make a different burn in your throat than your mojitos. The salt is gonna lessen that burn. Now, just dip a finger in the salt and suck it.”

Y/N gives him one more suspicious look but follows nevertheless.

“Now, take a shot of your tequila.”

Y/N smiles, placing the rim of the glass on her lips. She closes her eyes and tilts her head back, downing the drink in one go. When she looks back at Yoongi, indeed, a different burn is lining down her throat. It felt like someone lit a match inside her esophagus and let the flame lick the muscles and nerves of her neck.

Before Y/N could let her jaw drop and ask Yoongi what the fuck did she just take in, Yoongi places the slice of lime next to her lips. “Bite on the lime.” She looks at him. Yoongi’s shoulder is brushing next to hers. He’s leaning close to her, face hovering hers. Just an inch more and her nose will graze the tip of his nose. He’s also got his hand close on her face. She could feel his thumb almost brush her lips as he holds the lime in front of her. And his eyes—Y/N tears her gaze from him. She snatches the lime from his hand and bites on it.

Yoongi pulls away, chuckling, “See? It tasted much better now. The sourness of lime balances and enhances the flavor of tequila.”

Y/N only nods.

They spend the rest of the night with Yoongi teaching her different terms in drinking, and her trying out sips of the drinks Yoongi orders for himself. It was all okay. Y/N’s having fun, learning and enjoying the drinks. It’s a wonder she’s still sober considering it’s her first time drinking and she’s already got a couple of drinks down her system. Her eyes are still steady, her posture stable. Heck, her voice even sounds as if it a minute has only passed since they entered Neo-Cloud 9.

“C’mon, Yoongi, let’s dance.”

Yoongi should have not been over-confident in his perceptions. The moment Y/N steps out from her side, she stumbles toward him, almost completely faceplanting on his chest.

“Y/N,” Yoongi pushes her up, “You’re drunk. Fuck, I told you you’re gonna get drunk. I think we should head home now—”

“No! Wanna dance, Min Yoongi!” Y/N suddenly stands upright, almost tripping on her shoes. She grins, “Let’s just do one song and after that Imma go home. Please, Yoongi?”

“Y/N—”

“Please, Yoongiiiii?” Y/N clasps her hands together, “Pleassseee?”

“Y/N—”

“Just one song! Or else I would call you mean Yoongi from now on,” she crosses her arms, “Just one is all I’m asking. Wanna experience that party feel for the very first time. We don’t even have to do a rave dance. We can just slow dance if you like!”

This is the reason why Yoongi finds himself dancing something akin to waltz to a song about partying as if it’s 2012. It’s not that bad, though. Not when he’s not alone dancing un-synced to the song with Y/N almost completely hanging on his limbs like a sloth. Some occasional seconds, she even gets the audacity to place her head on his chest. Yoongi cannot help but pull a small smile on his lips.

The lights above the dance floor are in the colors of sunset and dawn and they move and merge like cells undergoing mitosis. It feels simultaneously alienating and comforting and Y/N isn’t really sure if she likes it or not. She just feels warm all over. Warm in her toes. Warm in her belly. Warm in her throat. Warm in her hands. Warm in her chest. Just…warm. Too comfortingly warm and she doesn’t know if it’s all just thanks to the alcohol.

“Hey, Y/N, the song is about to end now.”

“Just one more,” Y/N mutters. She places her head against his shoulder.

Yoongi hums. The song finally changes. A few beats in and Y/N stops in her tracks. It’s The Louvre by Lorde.

But lover, you’re the one to blame, all that you’re doing

Can you hear the violence?

Megaphone to my chest.

Y/N looks up. Yoongi’s face is above her, almost hovering hers. The warm sunset-colored lights pass over his features, highlighting the seeming stylishness of his unkempt hair, the small existent ridges on his plump cheeks, and the soft-looking curve of his lips that’s more often than not pulled to the side to tease her. But tonight, he’s just smiling, and his lips look so soft under the pink light. His hand covering hers felt so big and yet unnervingly un-foreign. It’s only calming. His eyes are soft, gentle, dare she say warm even.

And for one second, it didn’t seem the calming warmth she was feeling was because of the alcohol. Because the warmth she feels is akin to the soothing radiance of early mornings. Warm like the heat between hand-held mugs shared over a small table with knees bumping next to each other. Warm like the tepid comfort a thick blanket provides to counter the thunderstorm incessantly knocking on the window panes. Warm like the lukewarm water of a hot tub one prepares after coming home from a long day at work. It’s hot, but not too hot to immediately withdraw a finger from.

It wasn’t the alcohol anymore because the warmth she feels comes from Yoongi. She knows for sure because when her hand withdraws from his skin, the calming warmth that has surrounded her immediately dissipates.

The realization dawns on her and suddenly, Y/N feels her throat is being laced up close. A choked out sob, and Y/N is hunching over, form minimizing on the floor as she tries to wheeze out a sharp breath.

“Y/N! What’s wrong? Are you okay?!” Yoongi panics. He holds her close to him, arms looping around her figure to keep her upright next to him. But Y/N shakily pushes him away.

Arms-width away from him, hands clutching tightly on his shoulders, Y/N looks up at him. “Yoongi, you have to stop being like this.”

“L-like what? Holding you to not let you fall over?”

“No,” Y/N shakes her head. “You have to stop trying to get so close to me.”

Yoongi stops.

Y/N lets out a staggered breath. “Just, please don’t, Yoongi.”

“Y/N—”

A tear slips from her eyes. “I can’t fall one more time, Yoongi. I’ve had enough already. I can’t…I can’t take another one. So please…don’t cross anymore of the space I put between us. Or even let me do the same. You can insult me whatever you want, just,” Y/N lets out a broken sigh, “don’t do this to me. Please.”

No words are exchanged after that. Y/N lets herself in the car. Yoongi follows suit. The night goes on devoid of any sound save for the revving of the engine. When they pull out from the colorful streets of 11th Avenue, the distant pink lights of Neo-Cloud 9 become Y/N’s last memory as she slumps her head against the car window. Soon enough, the world goes black. Her breaths finally even out.

DAY 6 – January 31; Friday

When Y/N peels her eyes open, a rounded moon-looking light fixture set on a powder blue ceiling is the first thing she sees. The second thing that enters her vision is the white bedside table on her left. She’s never seen these things before. Y/N sits up in a jolt. White wooden cabinets, a metal gray desk, black office swivel chair, light grey faux wooden tiles—these are definitely not in her room. She instantly looks down on her body. A white and blue striped pajama. Panic starts to rise in her stomach. Where the fuck am I—

The door bursts open and a head of a male she’s never seen before pops up. He smiles at her. “Oh, you’re finally awake. You can take a shower now. Yoongi’s just finished showering. Your clothes are already on the hangers in the bathroom. Mom’s got them washed and pressed already.” The man walks away only to come back as if he’s forgotten something. “Oh yeah, we’re also having breakfast so…come join us when you’re done?” The furrows on Y/N’s forehead deepen. The man beams, “O-oh, and I’m Yoongi’s brother, Jeongguk.”

Yoongi? Jeongguk? Why is Yoongi’s brother inviting her for breakfast when she hasn’t even heard of him before—Y/N freezes. The answer finally dawns upon her and Y/N could only internally pull all the hair off her head. Oh my god, what the hell am I doing in Yoongi’s home?!

Twenty minutes later and Y/N finds herself in a circular table with the very question in her head the first thing uttered out when she sits on her chair.

“So Y/N,” Yoongi’s father smiles at her, “How did you end up here?”

“Um—”

“Dad, I thought already told you yesterday?” Yoongi interrupts. Y/N looks at the man across her. He looks like he didn’t dry himself well. The ends of his hair are still wet. There’s also a damp spot on the chest area of the white crew-neck shirt he’s wearing under his navy blazer. Y/N gulps. She should not let her eyes linger on that damp spot for too long.

“Yeah, son, I know,” Yoongi’s father chuckles as he slices into his scrambled eggs. He turns to Y/N. “I’m just messing with you, dear.”

“Y-yeah. I totally understand, Mr. Min,” Y/N tries to chuckle.

“Oh, don’t call me that. Just call me ‘dad.’ We’re gonna get close anyway.”

Yoongi’s eyes bulge out. “What the hell—Dad!”

Mr. Min laughs. “I’m just joking! Call me Yoonhyuk.”

Y/N smiles politely, “Okay…Yoonhyuk.”

“My, Yoongi,” Yoongi’s mother claps a hand on her son’s shoulder, “You seem really tense. You’re reverting back into your old high school self.”

“Mom!”

“Excuse my son,” Yoongi’s mother smiles at Y/N. “He used to be really tense and timid all over. Habits do really die hard. Anyway, just call me Ji-an, too. Oh, and I’m the one who changed your clothes last night so no need to worry. I just thought letting you sleep in your work clothes may be too uncomfortable. You looked like you really needed a good rest last night.”

“It’s alright. Thank you so much, Ms. Mi—Ji-an,” Y/N smiles. Ms. Min returns a bigger charming smile. Y/N figures Yoongi’s smile must have taken after his mother’s.

Breakfast continues on as if it was just another breakfast in the Min family. Having Yoongi’s past already brought up, Mr. Min continues on with a story of an awkward fourteen-year-old Yoongi sweating over just practicing how to give their plate of chow mien to their neighbor. Jeongguk even pitched in of how his older brother was such a wimp way back when they were kids. He said it was a wonder how Yoongi always manages to win every game when he’s always the one running like a ‘waddling duck.’ Until a year later they found out it was all thanks to the cheats Yoongi has collected. Everyone erupts into laughter. Even Yoongi who’s sulking the whole time finally breaks into cackles.

Y/N can’t remember the last time she had breakfast this lively. Well, she and Mina do share fun breakfasts too. But with the two of them rarely having enough time to cook meals in the morning, table breakfasts are reserved for special days. Their breakfasts usually come through sandwiches they munch on quickly at a small, cheap café near the office. Now, she’s having breakfast with people she’s never met before, and yet, a comfortable warmth settles over her, making her feel las if she’s meeting people she had long been friends with. The feeling is strange, but Y/N decides she’s more than welcome to entertain it.

The breakfast ends sooner than Y/N would like to admit and it isn’t by long she bids her goodbyes to the Min family after she finishes helping Ms. Min clean up. She expresses her gratitude once more to Mr. and Mrs. Min before following Yoongi to the car.

When they pull away from the driveway, Yoongi finally says his first words of the day to her. “I’m sorry you may have been shocked this morning. I drove you to your apartment but I wasn’t able to get you into your flat because you don’t have your keys. The security stationed doesn’t know alternative access and the admin’s office was long closed. So, I have no other option but to drive you home with me. Well, you were actually the one who insisted to drive you to my home, so yeah, here we are.”

“I…insisted to go to your home?”

Yoongi looks at her, “You don’t remember?”

“Yah, Y/N, stop messing with my hair,” Yoongi huffs as he tries to balance the girl latched onto his back while rummaging through her bag for her keys.

“I’m not messing it up. I’m styling it!” Y/N grabs two handfuls of hair. Yoongi nearly topples onto the floor from the hard tug on his scalp. Y/N only squeals, “See? You look like Garu now! Not Pucca. You only smile when you’re smug!”

“Y/N, stop messing with me,” Yoongi grits, hands frantically turning all the items in the woman’s bag over and over again. “Fuck, there’s no keys. Y/N, where the hell did you put your keys?”

“I don’t knoooow.”

Y/N starts to slip on his back. Before he could hoist her up though, the girl locks her elbows around his neck, knocking the wind out of his windpipe. Yoongi didn’t know what getting strangled really feels like until now. Y/N giggles, “Oh, I know now! I slipped it in in my pouch! The one with my ballpens. I think I must have left it in the office because I’m not yet done with my report when we went off…”

Yoongi drags a hand over his face, “Fuck. What the hell will I do with you now?”

Y/N props her head on his shoulder and grins, “Take me home to your home?”

Yoongi gapes at Y/N. “You seriously don’t remember?”

Y/N slowly shakes her head, “I don’t.”

Yoongi plops Y/N back onto the passenger’s seat before he sits himself back into the driver’s seat. The moment Yoongi drives away from the 27th street, Y/N decides it’s a brilliant idea to latch herself onto the man’s arm.

“Y/N, what the hell are you doing?” Yoongi tries to gently pull his arm away from her. Y/N only keeps her grip on him and decides to put her head on his shoulder. Yoongi sighs in defeat.

“I’m being happy!” Y/N grins, “You and I are gonna have a sleepover!”

“This is not a sleepover,” Yoongi gives her a pointed look, “You’re drunk and I’m just being a Good Samaritan letting you stay over in my house because your poor ass got nowhere to go.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s still a sleepover because we’ll sleep in your room.”

“I am NOT letting you sleep in my room. You’re gonna sleep on the couch.”

Y/N’s eyes grow wide, “No! We’re gonna sleep in your room! Friends sleep in one room during sleepovers.”

“So now, you’re finally admitting we’re friends?” Yoongi smirks. He doesn’t know why he’s letting this pointless conversation go on when the person he’s speaking to is just running on autopilot. But when Y/N looks at him in complete focus and opens her mouth, Yoongi can’t help but anticipate for what she has to say.

“Why?” Y/N tilts her head, “Aren’t we already friends? Weren’t you the one who kept bugging me about it?”

Yoongi looks away and keeps his eyes ahead, “Well…yeah.”

“Then why won’t you let me sleep in your room?”

Yoongi clicks his tongue, “Just because.”

“Is it because you hate me?”

“No, it’s not because of that.”

“Then, is it because I annoyed you today?”

“Well, you did annoy me. A lot.” Yoongi sighs, “Okay, a bit. A teeny, tiny bit. But, it’s also not because of that.”

“Then what is it?” Y/N whines.

Yoongi doesn’t answer.

“Is it because I’m supposed to actually rat on any mistake of your team to Nancy?”

Still silence.

“Then…is it because I’m ugly?”

Yoongi whips his head toward her, “What?”

Y/N looks down at her lap, “People say no one wants to be with me because no one likes my face. They say it’s too intimidating. That I’m too intimidating and no one wants to be with someone like that.” Y/N glances at the side mirror, “Didn’t help that everyone practically hates me because of how firm I stand with my values. High school was enough proof of that.”

“Well, it’s not everyone. You got Mina—”

“Of course, I got Mina. She’s always by my side. So, she’s out of the question.”

“I’m not yet done,” Yoongi chuckles, “You do love getting ahead of everybody, no?”

Y/N pouts and faces straight ahead, crossing her arms.

“As I was saying, you got Mina and me.”

It’s Y/N’s turn to snap back towards him, eyes wide. “What do you mean?”

“You said before I’m not just anybody,” Yoongi shrugs. “Might as well live up to that.”

The quiet air settles over again. Only the sounds of the city zooming past them and Y/N’s occasional snores fill the gaps of silence. But it doesn’t last long as they finally reached 12th street, West Drive—Yoongi’s home—because Y/N wakes up again and starts blabbering if she could tie up his hair Garu-style. Yoongi thinks the utter shock in his mother’s face when she opened the door for him and the utterly inebriated girl on his back is something he will never forget. And probably Y/N’s face, too, which brightened up when Yoongi told her she can have his room.

“Are you serious?” Y/N squeals, already on her knees on his mattress, ready to jump around. She looks like a five-year-old and it doesn’t help that his striped blue and white pajamas make her look, dare he say, cute.

“Yes, I am,” Yoongi replies. He closes the door for a second to see his mother in the hallway.

Ji-an places Y/N’s clothes on their hamper before addressing him. “Been a while since you brought a friend over.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi nervously smiles as he rubs his nape. “Sorry this was unannounced, mom. I drove her to her place but she forgot her keys at work and her flatmate’s also gone for the night. I don’t know what to do so I just brought her here.”

“Hey, it’s okay. I don’t mind,” Ji-an smiles. “I was just surprised. I didn’t know Thursday nights are now a drinking night.”

“Mom!” Yoongi playfully claps his mother’s shoulder. Ji-an only laughs. When her chuckles die down, she fondly looks at her son, “I was just curious what made you drink out on a Thursday night. I thought friend’s night-outs are for Fridays.”

“Today was just a special case. Y/N wanted to try drinking for the first time. She dragged me to teach her what she’s missed out on college and high school.” Yoongi looks at his closed door, a warm smile forming on his face. “I didn’t know someone at 25 has not yet been to a bar before.”

“Then, I’m glad you’ve accompanied her.”

Yoongi looks at his mother, brows furrowed, “What do you mean?”

“It’s also been a while since I’ve seen you smile like that,” Ji-an pulls her lips into a knowing smile. “You smile a lot with us. But it’s been ages since I saw that smile again. It makes me happy it’s back.”

“What…smile, mom?”

“Oh, you know it already,” Ji-an pats his shoulder. “By the way, where are you gonna sleep?”

“I’ll make camp in the living room. I have your fluffy pillows and blanket with me…Thanks, mom.” Yoongi gives her an appreciative smile.

“Okay then,” Ji-an returns his smile, “Goodnight, son.” Yoongi kisses her cheek goodnight and then she resigns back into their room.

Yoongi plops himself on the floor beside his bed. Y/N rolls over to poke at his shoulder, “What took you so long outside? I thought this is a sleepover. Also, what are you doing with that?” she points to the binder the man is holding.

Yoongi continues flipping through the pages. It’s an album of his days back in high school. He always pulls it out whenever he gets the sudden urge to feel nostalgic. Most often than not, the fuzzy feeling after drinking gives that urge. Yoongi mutters, “I’m looking through it so you’ll get bored of messing with me and finally sleep.”

“You know, Yoongi…if I didn’t hate you, I would love to kiss you.”

Yoongi freezes in his position, “W-what?”

But it seems the alcohol took its final toll on Y/N when she rolls over to her side and bids him with a yawn, “Goodnight, Yoongi.”

Yoongi makes sure he hears her snore before he returns, “…Goodnight, too, sweetheart.”

“You really don’t remember anything?”

“No…?”

Yoongi focuses back on the road. “What’s your last memory yesterday?”

“Well, we took shots. Then after that, we danced, and—nothing. Well, you drove me here and let me sleepover so yeah,” Y/N looks down on her interlocked hands. “Thank you for that, Yoongi.”

“You’re welcome. But do you really not remember anything? As in, anything at all?”

“I told you I do not, okay?” Y/N throws up her hands, “How many times do I have to tell you that?!”

Yoongi glances at her, “Not even what you said while we’re dancing at the bar?”

“No,” Y/N sighs. “Look, I don’t remember anything from the night before, save for what I already told you. What did I even say while we’re dancing at the bar?”

“Nothing,” Yoongi looks back at the road. “You just said you wanna stuff your nose full with mojito because you love it so much.”

Y/N massages her temple, “Okay, that’s embarrassing. But dismissible. It’s just a stupid statement. Did something else happen?”

“Something,” Yoongi scoffs, “Oh hell yeah, something definitely happened.”

Y/N’s brows shot up and she screeches, “Did something happen between us?!” Yoongi almost drives the car out of their lane.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, do you plan on busting my ears off?” Yoongi holds a hand over his ears. “And for God’s sake, how did you even come up to that? What do you think of me? Someone who takes advantage of a drunk woman?!”

“I didn’t say that! Okay,” Y/N reels back and sighs, “I’m sorry I implied it and for possibly offending you. I just thought maybe you got drunk, too, yesterday and we got handsy-handsy on each other. Maybe. The movies show it’s possible. And they already run a good enough forecast system for drunken mistakes.”

“Are you seriously using movies now as a reliable reference?”

Y/N looks away. “It wouldn’t hurt, okay. Movies reflect real life.”

“Look, Y/N,” Yoongi looks at her with a serious face, “nothing sexual happened between us. If something actually happened between us, I wouldn’t be here in the first place. I’d probably be at a church tryna convince the priest if I could take a bath using their holy water.”

Y/N scowls at him, “You say that as if I’m the most horrible person in the world. Well, if you’d been a different person, you’d know I’m not so bad.”

“Are you implying you want to have sex with me?”

“Oh my god—NO! How the fuck did you even think about such abomination?!”

Yoongi wiggles his brows at her. Y/N resists the urge to slap his face. They’re currently driving. She cannot risk her life no matter how much she wants to end the man beside her.

“But seriously speaking,” Yoongi rounds a street, “something else did happen.”

“What is it?”

“You actually insisted to go to my house because you wanna have a sleepover. You reasoned it’s because we’re friends.” Yoongi glances at her, “And you told me you wanted to kiss me.”

Y/N’s jaw falls wide open, “Oh my god, your imagination cannot be any weirder than it already is, huh? ‘Friends’? ‘Kiss you’? Never in a million years would I want that!” Y/N scoffs, “Even if I’m drunk, I know I wouldn’t say that! Your delusions are getting worse, Yoongi.”

“Say all that you want. Still doesn’t negate what transpired yesterday,” Yoongi sing-songs.

“Look,” Y/N shifts in her seat to turn to Yoongi, “I’m grateful you had me in your home and welcomed me so warmly. And I know I’m enjoying a lot of favors right now. But one more wouldn’t hurt, okay?” Y/N sighs and closes her eyes, “Can we just forget whatever happened yesterday?”

“Nope.”

“What do you mean ‘nope’?!”

“Nope, as in, we cannot forget what we know happened. It’s impossible, biologically and realistically speaking. Our brains are not designed with an undo button. Unless we already have early onset of Alzheimer’s. Though I think I wouldn’t worry about that because I’m young and happy. You’re the one who should actually worry because you look old and that’s because you didn’t enjoy life—”

“Okay, I get you! It’s impossible to forget! But can we just never speak about what happened yesterday?!”

Yoongi shrugs, “Depends.”

Y/N’s brows scrunch together, “What do you mean ‘depends’?”

“If it would be non-advantageous for me, sure, I won’t speak about it. But right now, it’s definitely advantageous for me because I can use it as blackmail material to finally convince you you wanted to be friends, and that in fact, we are indeed already friends.”

“Min Yoongi—!”

A ringtone bursts loud in the car. It’s a Japanese song. And it sounds very much like an opening OST for a shounen action anime.

“Are you fricking serious—”

“Ssh!” Y/N holds up an index to Yoongi’s lips. She breaks into a smile, “Oh hello, Ms. Nancy. I-I mean,” Y/N glances at her watch and does quick math, ��good afternoon!” Fuck time differences.

The person on the other end of the line doesn’t sound too pleased with the greeting though. “Where the hell are you now, Y/N?”

“Oh, I’m at,” Y/N looks outside of the window in search of the nearest post with a street name, “uh, 1st Avenue. We’re just a couple of blocks from Rockfort now.”

“Don’t come into the office today. I have a list of errands for you to do instead.”

“O-okay—”

“They’re a lot so I’m gonna e-mail them to you now. When you receive it, I hope you start on it ASAP.”

“Of course, ma’am,” Y/N smiles. A beep at the other end serves as her reply. A ‘ding’ soon sounds in her phone and Y/N immediately checks on her notifications.

Ms. Nancy Kim (7:45 A.M.)

Go to my house on 27th Avenue. I left some legal papers I need by 8:20 and I want you to scan them and email them to me. Use my personal computer.

Head to the VanTae Main Office by 8:45 A.M. They’re hosting a meeting with the businesses they’ve partnered with for an interactive fashion event they’re hosting. I forgot to inform them beforehand that I’ve gone abroad but I’ve already e-mailed the CEO today that our spokesperson, Mr. Junhyung Choi, will stand for me. Help out Mr. Choi with whatever he needs, especially his presentation.

Go to RTW Advertising’s Headquarters by 11 A.M with Mr. Choi. They need to discuss something about their future project with us. I’m gonna send you the references you’ll need to help Mr. Choi—

Y/N immediately tucks her phone into her pocket. She’ll just read the rest on the train. She turns to the man beside her, “Yoongi park on the sidewalk.”

“Why? But we’re going to the office—”

“Just go to the nearest parking spot and drop me off.” Y/N smiles, “Please?”

Yoongi sighs but nevertheless, he follows her directions and pulls up the car in front of a bicycle stand.

Y/N gathers her bag, “Sorry this is a rush. I’m not going to the office. I need to catch the 8 A.M. train.” Y/N turns to her side to tug free her seatbelt but it won’t budge. She hears a sigh and then suddenly, there’s a hand hovering above hers, pulling more of the seatbelt from her shoulder to lessen the tension of the belt on the lock. When Y/N looks up, Yoongi’s face is so near hers that one simple movement could let her nose brush the side of his cheek. She could practically feel Yoongi’s breath sweep over her lips as he releases a sigh.

Then Yoongi looks straight into her eyes. “Is it Nancy?”

The lock clicks and it releases the belt. Y/N presses herself still into the corner of the car. She doesn’t know she’s holding her breath as she nods, “Y-yeah.”

Yoongi leans back in his seat. “You sure you want to take the train? I can drive you to where you need to go. I can just hit up Ms. Yoona and tell her to take my place for the day.”

“N-no. This is my work. I don’t want to bother you. I’ve got a list of things to do and it will keep you away from what you really needed to do.” Y/N pushes the handle and opens the door to let herself hop out. “Thanks for offering though.”

Yoongi tilts his head and smiles. “Date you later, then?”

Y/N’s brows meet together.

Yoongi shrugs, “Well, we’ll see each other later and hopefully date y’know? We still need a few date documents to get. For the Heart Holiday. So yeah, date you later?”

“Okay…date you later, too.” Y/N smiles back and then she closes the door. When she turns around, she tries to convince herself the heat on her cheeks was because of the pollution outside. Not because of Yoongi’s warm smile as she sent him off.

Y/N wishes she’s never said anything too early.

The future is a concept that can hardly be determined no matter how open and flexible the patterns people have made to make sense of it. Y/N knows this and yet she still chooses to defy it. It‘s human nature anyway to try and figure out life and see how long you could last with a blueprint belief. If it turns out to be wrong, improve the belief or let it go and find a better one. But this is always easier said than done. It’s an inherent quality of dealing with things and concepts no one has complete control over. And Y/N has completely no control even on her unfortunate scenarios she has pre-determined in her head.

All of her Thursdays have been cursed ever since her first goddamn story proposal was foiled by Min Yoongi one year ago. And suddenly, yesterday was spot-free of any unfortunate events Y/N was sober enough to fully experience. And by some unexpected discrepancy in a long-established, working pattern, everything that has to go wrong in Thursday, happened today—Friday.

When Y/N entered the train station, a mechanical error occurred on the 8 A.M. train that caused a thirty-minute delay before a working cart could come and accommodate commuters. This fucked up Y/N’s schedule big time because she had to sprint to Nancy’s house and speed-scan the legal documents she needed in just five minutes to reach the 8:20 deadline. Of course, it didn’t work according to her plan because computers do their thing when you needed something to be rushed, they pick that exact time to not cooperate with you. Nevertheless, Y/N manages to finish the task. But all the tinge of achievement written on her face from accomplishing something was immediately slashed off when she realizes she sent the documents five minutes past the deadline. Nancy made sure she knew this when she rings her to berate her of her noncompliance with set deadlines.

Y/N thought she could make up for her mistake by doing her best in her presentation with Mr. Choi at VanTae. But that, too, proves to be a long shot to make because before she could even try, life shuts her down. Nancy forgot to inform her VanTae was expecting themed cohesive presentations from their partners. It is with great shame she sat behind the podium where Mr. Choi is standing, flipping through each slide that was obviously embarrassingly sub-par to the other business partners in the room. And, Mr. Choi didn’t let go of the opportunity to befall the blame of today’s unimpressive performance completely on Y/N. Who wouldn’t when she’s the one in charge of making the entire presentation?

But that wasn’t the end of it. At RTW, Mr. Choi just asked for Y/N to bring him and the manager cups of coffee. She doesn’t have to stand by his side anymore. But the heavens seem to hate her because when she enters the conference room and nears the manager, the secretary who’s placing the folders suddenly turned, bumping into Y/N. It would have been okay if the coffee spilled all over on her shirt. But No. Y/N trips on her foot and the hot, newly brewed coffee had to spill on the shirt of RTW’s manager.

When Nancy caught wind of what happened through Mr. Choi, she immediately slashed off Y/N’s tasks that actually involved Travel Loca and reduced it to personal, trivial errands. It’s easy and fool-proof. They’re just errands like bring Nancy’s daughter’s hardcopy of her paper to her school and write up an apology for Nancy for the parties and events she got invited to but will be unable to attend. And by some undecipherable stretch of bad luck, doing these tasks, too, has also proven to be hard. Either the transportation system will delay her for half an hour, an electronic gadget will malfunction on her, or a person in the other end of the line will find something offending in her words and turn it all against her. Y/N barely made it on time to submit the hardcopy to the school. She wasn’t able to finish encoding Nancy’s personal expenses in the tax declaration software. And two of Nancy’s friends were not satisfied with her apologies and even insulted her. When Y/N calls for the nth time about finishing a task that ended not-so-well in her favor, she knows Nancy has already busted her patience of the day for her because she just sighs and started to give her cold one-worded replies.

And before Y/N knew it, it’s already seven. Long past working hours. Y/N’s eyes widen. Yoongi. She pulls up her phone and types a message.

Y/N : Hey, I think I’m gonna do a raincheck on our uh date. Sorry for the late notice. I just finished my job and I don’t think I have any energy left. (7:05 P.M.)

Mean Yoongi >:( : Why? What happened? (7:06 P.M.)

Mean Yoongi >:( : If you don’t mind me asking, I mean? (7:06 P.M.)

Y/N : Nothing happened. Just tired (7:06 P.M.)

Mean Yoongi >:( : Okay, that’s fine. Take a rest. Health is always the priority (7:07 P.M.)

Y/N : Okay. Thank you :) (7:07 P.M.)

Mean Yoongi >:( : Date you tomorrow then? (7:07 P.M.)

Y/N purses her lips and shrugs.

Y/N : Sure. Date you tomorrow (7:07 P.M.)

Mean Yoongi >:( : Sweet. Goodnight, sweetheart 😉 (7:07 P.M.)

A small smile traces its way on Y/N’s face.

Y/N : Goodnight, too, Yoongi (7:07 P.M.)

However, Y/N shouldn’t have thought about finally having a good night too early. Because the cherry on top of her day is yet to happen.

Y/N heads to Rockfort to retrieve her keys and finally end the day. It’s already nine in the evening and she just wants to go home, plop down on her bed, and maybe cry. Out of shame or anger or both, she isn’t sure. Probably anger to Mr. Choi and a bit to Nancy because they didn’t have to belittle her in front of her face the way they did. And most probably anger to herself because she wouldn’t receive such backlash from her superiors if she didn’t fuck up. The rational part of her believes Mr. Choi and Nancy didn’t have time to consider her feelings because they were doing damage control. But still, Y/N can’t help but feel she’s been ruthlessly disregarded. She tried her best but she knows she can’t force anyone to notice it. No one really cares much about the progress. Outcomes are what only matter. It is always the end that determines whether something is worth all the effort or it was all just for naught.

When Y/N starts on the steps on the complex, her phone rings.

It’s Nancy. Y/N takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. “He-hello?”

“Y/N, what’s the progress of the Creatives for this week?”

“O-oh, um—”

“You forgot to send it to me earlier this day when I clearly told you before I went overseas to make sure you keep me up-to-date by the evening. Does it look like it’s still evening, now? It’s already midnight here.” Nancy sighs, “I’m the boss and yet I have to call my employee to ask her to simply do her job. Do you see how wrong that sounds?”

“I-I’m sorry, Ms. Nancy—”

“Stop with the apologies. I’ve had enough of that this day. Just tell me what I’m asking from you.”

“O-okay,” Y/N rushes to the nearest bench. It’s the one sitting under the central mango tree and Y/N hopes if it could give her at least an ounce of luck just like it always does. With hands trembling, Y/N manages to get all the pages of her report from her bag in one piece. She flips through the papers, “U-um, well, Steven and Yoongi came up with a unique design for our feature articles. It’s inspired by the DRM’s goals and the Heart Holiday because Valentines’ week is just around the corner. A-and then the concept team is collaborating well with our artists in doing the overall theme of our issue. I could send you an email later of the samples they’ve given me—”

“Okay, but do you have any updates on our cover page?”

“The-the cover page?”

“Yes, the cover page. Did you not hear what I said?”

Y/N feels her throat dry up. The cover page. Kim Myungsoo. Y/N has reminded him of it yesterday and he said he’s going to see if he can email it by Friday. It’s already Friday and she still hasn’t received any email. She even texted Yoongi earlier while she’s at RTW’s meeting to personally check on Myungsoo and his team. What she only received is a dejected sigh from Yoongi as he told her the team leader has taken a leave and the team members are unable to give them the proposal she needs. Y/N remembers how flawed the bureaucratic system of Travel Loca is as Yoongi informs her company rules dictate access to the reports and documents are only granted by team leaders to ensure their legibility. And since Nancy didn’t give out a statement to override this rule today, Yoongi, himself, cannot do anything. Y/N now remembers why she actually dreaded this call to come.

“U-um, yes, Ma’am, I heard what you said. But, the thing is, uh,” Y/N taps her foot, “I wasn’t…able to make a report because Myungsoo has taken a leave and he wasn’t able to send their report of progress to me. I-I’m sorry.”

Silence greets her. For a second, Y/N thinks the line went dead. She realizes it was wrong to speak beforehand because, after a beat, she feels her heart drop into her stomach.

“You never run out of excuses, do you?”

“W-what?”

Nancy laughs. “Oh my god, I thought I wouldn’t be any more disappointed in you today. Guess I was wrong because you have a knack for breaking my expectations, Y/N. And right now, I’m not disappointed. I’m upset.”

“Nancy, I’m sorry—”

“All I’ve asked from you was to give me updates on the Creatives team. And yeah, you did but you left out the most important element we really need from them—the cover page. Give me a creatives team from a magazine company that doesn’t put the central focus on the fucking cover page? Of course, you’ll get none!”

Y/N bites her lip.

“What are you even doing this week in the office, then, Y/N?”

Silence.

“Answer me, Y/N.”

Y/N bites back a sniffle. “I-I check on each team a-and I also helped with choosing the layouts and templates they use and—”

“Why the hell are you helping them with that? You don’t know their work. What made you think you could actually help?” Nancy scoffs, “So instead of actually doing your job, you’ve been busying yourself with pointless things.”

Y/N could only look down on her feet.

“You know what, Y/N. When I hired you, I thought you were different. I thought you’re someone who could shine and finally get promoted to the team you wanted to be in. Because you know I’m picky with my P.A’s. Only those who I think have the potential to deserve a promotion into a nice position in my company, or at least deserve to get my recommendation that could get them access to many reputable magazines or news companies, get hired to be my P.A.’s. And when I met you, I thought you were like that. Strong, determined, intelligent, and hard-working. But now, you’re far from that, Y/N. You’ve become so far from what I’ve known you to be. You’ve become sloppy. You’ve become someone that makes excuses instead of really working. And you didn’t improve, Y/N. Not one bit. Because your work these days is far behind from what I expect from a well-educated person. And now, you’re making me think I made a mistake I even hired you.”

Y/N presses a hand over her mouth. It’s only then she realizes a tear has already slipped from her eyes.

Nancy sighs, “Thank you for…whatever you did today. I just hope you’ll make up for your mistakes when I come back. I don’t want to further regret I’ve taken you to my company. Goodbye.”

The line goes dead. The hand that holds up her phone limply falls by her side. Her legs are shaking and so are her fingers. It’s cold but it doesn’t compare to the block of frigidness that has dropped on her chest when Nancy…said those words to her. Sure, Nancy’s always been a bit harsh and strict. She’s scolded Y/N for all the times she’s failed in her job before but they were all necessary reminders that have molded her to become more professional at work. She even told her once how proud she was of how Y/N grew in her company. But tonight, her words are far from that. Nancy was brutal and Y/N could only blame herself.

Whenever Y/N makes a mistake, she always tries to look at them objectively and never let them get to her. She’s always been able to do this all throughout high school and until she’s started working. Until tonight, because Nancy’s words are vicious and they’re too heavy to shake off. People say wondering about the ‘what if’s’ is absurd as mulling over what may have happened won’t bring anything to anyone but torment. They are reminders of a now-unattainable future and dwelling on them won’t change anything. But right now, Y/N cannot help but wonder what if she’s sent the legal papers on time? What if she made a noteworthy presentation at the meeting? What if she didn’t spill coffee on the manager? What if she’s been more aggressive in convincing Myungsoo to give her the proposal? Would anything change then?

Y/N raises a hand to wipe off the wetness that has trailed on her cheek. It immediately turns futile because the moment she presses a hand over her eyes, she lets out a sob and tear after tear slips through her fingers. Her mother has told her she’s always had shallow tears. Y/N has worked so long to prove her wrong. That she’s not weak. That she’s not easy to fall over when someone comes too close to knock her down. That she’s strong, that she could get by on her own and she could be someone no one could even attempt to hurt. But now, she’s reduced to this: a crying mess of a girl sitting on some bench for everyone to see. She doesn’t know what to do anymore and—

“Hey, what are you still doing here?”

Y/N looks up. Tears only seem to accumulate more on her eyes when she sees it’s—

“Wait, why are you crying?”

“Yoongi.” Y/N breaks into a sob and before another second passes, Yoongi’s already by her side, looping his arms around her shaking frame, her face pressed close to his chest. He cards his fingers through her hair as he coos at her, but that only seems to spur more sobs to fall from her lips.

“I’m so-sorry I’m crying like this—”

“Let it out.” Yoongi hugs her closer to him, “Just let it out. It’s okay.”

That’s all it took for Y/N to let everything out. She cries against Yoongi’s chest, hands clutching tightly on his coat. Sobs rock upon her frame but Yoongi only holds her tight, swaying a bit as if to lull her from the suffocating toll of her cries. He doesn’t ask anything. He just stays by her side, whispering by her ear, “it’s alright,” “I’m here,” and “You’re not alone.” For the first time that day, all thoughts of ‘what ifs’ halt in her head.

The night outside is getting colder by each second. Y/N could make out fogged up spots on the car window. When her finger meets the glass, she doesn’t jolt from the cold. The heater of the car is on. She draws a star. She thinks she’s lucky. She remembers she is when her eyes glance at the back, upon the paper bag containing empty, reusable take-out containers.

“So…what happened today?”

Y/N turns back to the front. Yoongi’s arms are firm on the wheel. He spares her a glance before focusing his eyes back on the road, “Of course, if you feel…more okay now to answer it.”

Y/N bites her lip. It’s been an hour ago since they silently sat on the bench. And a half-hour after that, she and Yoongi shared dinner over something as trivial as listing the most annoying movies they’ve ever watched. And now, a couple of minutes have already passed in the car with them back in complete silence. Yoongi hasn’t said anything about what happened by the mango tree until now and so did Y/N. But she knows it’s an elephant weighing too big in the car not to address it.

Y/N sighs. “W-well, Nancy has given me a lot of errands to do. And…everything just didn’t go according to plan and I guess, it was just…the last straw for me.”

“I see,” Yoongi hums, glancing at her before directing his eyes back on the road.

Y/N wrings her hands together. She closes her eyes. “Okay, I got…scolded today by Nancy because I messed up with the things she asked me to do. Of course, she has every right to—”

“What did she say to you?”

Y/N looks up at him then she quickly returns her gaze on her hands. “N-nothing. She just…expressed her disappointment about me especially when she learned I cannot give her any updates about the cover page.”

“So you got lashed out on for Myungsoo’s uncooperating ass?”

Y/N whips her head to him, “No, I-I didn’t get lashed out—”

“Y/N, stop lying to me.” Yoongi looks at her. “I know Nancy. I’ve been her P.A., too. And when she’s upset, she lashes out. And when she does, she goes way all over the line.” He looks back onto the street. “Why are you even trying to defend her when she obviously stepped over the line again? This is what I don’t like about—” Yoongi stops and sighs, “What are you going to do about Myungsoo?”

“I’ll…e-mail him tomorrow and convince him to send the proposal to me.”

“So you’re not even going to reprimand him for letting you unjustly receive backlash because of him?

“N-no,” Y/N looks at him, brows scrunched. “I don’t want to make unnecessary enemies here and let my temper get the better of me—”

“So you just don’t stand up against them? What does that make me, then? I’m your free estate for that pent-up anger?”

Silence.

Yoongi sighs, “Fuck, I’m sorry. That’s out of the line.”

“It’s okay…I’m sorry, too. I’ve also been unfair to you.”

“I’m just—I’m so frustrated why you can’t stand up for yourself around these people just like you do to me. You can’t always let them have their way, Y/N. Superior or not.”

Y/N remains unmoving in her seat. Yoongi looks at her slumped figure in the seat and he decides to drop the subject. Silence takes hold of their car again. Yoongi tries to elevate the mood by talking about how he’s already on the 30th episode of Naruto. He said he didn’t expect he’ll find it to be that great “since the popular animes are usually overrated.” He even chipped in how he can’t find Sakura annoying even if a lot of fans hated her. Y/N didn’t say anything but a small smile starts to form on her lips. It’s more than enough for Yoongi to thank the heavens he didn’t totally ruin the night.

When they round the 20th street, Y/N finally decides to speak.

“S-sorry I wasn’t able to say thank you for earlier so—thank you, Yoongi. For the dinner and for the…thing you did on the bench.”

“It’s okay,” Yoongi pulls a small smile. “It’s what friends do.”

Y/N’s eyes shoot up to him and Yoongi only lets his smile grow. It’s that smile. That same smile he gave her when he’s offering to watch Naruto for her to watch Slam Dunk. That same smile he flashed her when he told her to put her arms around his neck as he let her experience her first dance she never had. That same smile that sent warmth spreading all over her chest and tingles running down to her toes. Just like right now. Y/N swallows the nervousness building in her throat.

She turns around in her seat and takes it everything in herself to make her voice sound as beaming as it can be. “Hey, how about we go to that fast food and get one date document before the night ends? It looks so nice and I-I feel bad we didn’t do anything today and—”

“No. I’m driving you to your home.”

Y/N gapes at the man. “B-but you said we’ll date later—”

“We could always get a date document any other time. You’re tired. You need to rest.”

“But—”

“Y/N, you should stop turning your back to things you should actually be facing,” Yoongi looks at her. “Right now, you should let yourself rest.”

The rest of the ride was silent. As Y/N fiddles with the cuffs of her button-down, she cannot help but mull over what Nancy has said earlier. Should she give up her plan for the Heart Holiday to make up for her mistakes today? Of course, when Nancy hears about her absence at work when she goes back to the office, she’ll definitely be disappointed. She could even fire her. Y/N cannot bear to have that. She’s invested two years of her life in Travel Loca. She knows she’s having a hard time living in her current place—doing something she doesn’t love in the field she’s desired for how many years. But she will rather have it than start all over again, most likely work somewhere more comfortable but far from the thing she loves—writing. It’s already hard to start on your desired field. Of course, it would be more heart-wrenching if you had to start from scratch again.

Y/N knows it’s sensible and rational to drop her plan now. She knows she’s leaning to this answer by the time Yoongi pulls in front of her apartment. But when she looks at him and bids him goodbye, his eyes crinkling as he tells her to “drink something warm” and “sleep well, sweetheart,” Y/N cannot figure out why the thought of giving up their ruse felt so…wrong.

DAY 7 – February 1; Saturday

Y/N is awakened by the eye-burning late morning light streaming through her curtains. Her sleep never exceeds the eight-hour mark. It’s a wonder that for the first time, today she did. Y/N thinks it’s probably because Mina spoiled her with homemade post-dinner yesterday after flopping next to her on the couch and telling her everything that happened that day. Her bestfriend has lined up all her favorite comfort foods and even stayed up late watching movies with her, successfully distracting her from replaying whatever Nancy has said.

However, it could also be probably because she slept with her coat draped over her shoulders. Y/N doesn’t know why but her coat smelled so good last night and she just has to keep it beside her for the whole night. She only learns the answer to this when she wakes up to Yoongi’s scent filling her senses first thing in the morning. But even with this knowledge, Y/N can’t find it in herself to regret she ever did that. She hates to admit there’s something about that man that makes her feel safe even if he also makes her run constantly on her toes.

Mina’s out to visit her parents and said she will be back for dinner. Y/N’s seated cross-legged on the couch, chomping on the brunch her bestfriend prepared while she watches Slam Dunk. It’s been two hours since she clicked on her USB containing the downloaded episodes of the anime and yet it feels only fifteen minutes have passed. She doesn’t want to say it aloud, but clearly, Yoongi has some good taste. She wouldn’t mind getting more recommendations from him.

Just right then, her phone rings. Without tearing her eyes from the TV, she wipes on the screen and holds the phone next to her ear. Whoever decided it was a good time to interrupt her just when Sakuragi gets a moment with Haruko is as good as dead meat. She grits over the phone, “What do you want?”

“What the—So early in the morning and you’re already so grumpy.”

Y/N stops. She pulls her phone away from her face.

Mean Yoongi >:(

Y/N sighs and rolls her eyes. However, she cannot resist the smile that immediately grows on her face. “It’s not ‘early in the morning’ anymore, mister. It’s already eleven. Now, what do you want?”

“‘What do I want?’ Do I seriously type the opportunistic guy who only calls just because he wants something?” Yoongi scoffs but the sound of it tells Y/N the man was doing his weird laughing face again.

Y/N chuckles. Yoongi immediately follows suit. “But seriously,” Y/N manages in between giggles, “Why did you call?”

“Just checkin’ up on you. How are you? Do you feel…better, now?”

Y/N hums. She purses her lips, “A bit better now. So far, this day has been good to me. How ‘bout you?”

“I’m good,” Yoongi quips, “Better actually. I cooked my family some breakfast and now I’m just chillin’ in my room. What are you doing?”

“…watching Slam Dunk.”

“No way!”

Y/N could hear the clatter of things in the speaker. Yoongi must have sat up and knocked things over. What a clumsy idiot. She chuckles, “Oh yes way, Min. Now, you won’t be able to fight me on this because I’m in the 10th episode now. How about you? How’s the other end of the deal doing over there?”

“Just you wait, woman, I’m gonna watch Naruto now.” There’s a faint click in the speaker and then—

“Please enter your disk.”

“Oh my god, Yoongi, you bought a fucking CD of Naruto?!”

“Why? This is me showing my respect for art by not ripping it off—wait, do you not buy CDs?”

“…No.”

“Do you not have Netflix?”

“Do you have Netflix?” Y/N counters, “That’s rich coming from you considering you still buy Blu-ray Discs. We’re just both broke, struggling adults here who can’t afford additional bills to pay. No need to pull up your chair so high, mister.”

“Answer my question, Y/N. Do you not have Netflix?”

Y/N sighs, “No.”

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m dating a pirate!”

Y/N could feel her cheeks start to burn, “What the—! I’m not a pirate! I’m just—being practical, yeah! In case you don’t know, things stay free on the Internet for a reason and that is to accommodate broke people like me.”

“Still doesn’t negate that you, mate, are in fact committing piracy.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who created the pirated versions of Slam Dunk! I’m just downloading torrents. I’m just utilizing available means practically laid in front of me!”

Laughter resounds on the other end of the line. It sounds weird—like a grandpa wheezing in front of an electric fan. But it also sounds endearingly cute. It doesn’t make sense why it even sounds cute. It’s not even cute! Y/N unknowingly smiles. One thing’s for sure. She wants to hear more of Yoongi’s laugh.

“Jesus Christ, woman, I’m just messing with you!” Yoongi cackles. “You think I don’t watch pirated things, too? Most of the movies I claimed I’ve already watched are all thanks to torrent. I’m too broke to go to cinemas!”

“But if you entertain pirated stuff,” Y/N shifts in her seat, “why did you even buy a CD of Naruto?”

“I buy CDs only when I think they are worth it.”

“You…already think Naruto is worth it?”

“Yeah. You like it. So, it’s worth it. You said it’s great, so I trust you.”

Y/N gulps. It’s weird. Her chest feels so warm and so do her cheeks. She’s just talking with someone over the phone.

“You still there?”

“Y-yeah,” Y/N fixes her clothes. Why the hell is she even fixing herself? It’s not as if Yoongi can see her.

“Okay. I thought of something.”

“Yeah?”

“How ‘bout we watch our respective animes together through Discord Music Party so we can hear each other’s reactions live?”

Y/N tilts her head, “How will I be able to watch properly then if I’m calling you at the same time?”

“You can turn down my volume from time to time there, duh. It’s 2020 now, sweetheart.”

Y/N flushes. “O-okay, we can do that. But I still don’t get why we have to check our reactions live.”

“Did you ever feel you want so badly to gush out your annoyance or excitement about something you’re watching to someone? Because I do. And I want you to be on the other line to hear me lash and gush on something because you made me enter this battlefield. This is 500+ episodes, woman.”

“Well, that’s not my fault. Who in the first place proposed this anime-watching exchange? You.”

“Touche,” Yoongi chuckles. “Yeah, it’s me. I told you I’d watch Naruto just to get you to watch Slam Dunk for my sake. But actually, I’m just curious why you love that anime so much. So here’s me learning the heck out of it.”

Naruto’s Season 1 opening OST starts to play in the background.

Y/N clucks her tongue, “I thought we’d go to Discord first before we do our live reactions?”

“Just give me five more minutes. I don’t want to end our call yet.”

Five minutes easily turn into twenty and it takes one more of Yoongi’s ‘Just five more minutes’ to annoy Y/N and yell at him he’s wasting his mobile load. It takes Y/N three minutes to download the app, and after ten minutes of fumbling around it, they hear each other’s voices again and continue where they left off.

“Oh, you’re here again, captain!”

“Shut up, Yoongi.”

“How’s the loot?”

Y/N sends an angry emoji in the chat. Yoongi’s laughter immediately booms through the speakers.

The rest of the day just goes like this. Episode upon episode pass. There are occasional quick calls for a bathroom break. Of course, another argument happens, especially when Yoongi suddenly declared at episode 77 he ships Sakura with Naruto which Y/N cannot accept because “canon is canon for a reason.” Meanwhile, Yoongi was initially pleased to learn Y/N ships Haruko with Sakuragi and not with “Awful Kaede.” But that immediately changes when he learns Y/N only ships the two because she ships Kaede with herself.

“I love me an ambitious, dream-driven man.”

“You’re the one who’s getting too ambitious, missy.”

Sometimes, inquiries of “You wanna pause and rant about Kaede?” or “What are you eating?” come across. But most of the time, what transpires in between are laughs, expressions like “that’s so cool,” and “whoa, I didn’t expect that,” and promises to keep watching together whenever they’re free. Y/N never knew watching a show could be this fun. Of course, it’s already fun watching an amazing show with great characters and conflicts. But watching together with another person, even if they’re not necessarily the same show, definitely amps up the experience. Y/N doesn’t want to admit it but Yoongi’s right. Having someone by your side, even virtually, to gush or lash out with on something definitely feels good.

Everything just felt so right and enjoyable that Y/N didn’t even notice the whole day passed with just her and Yoongi accompanying each other watching shows. Time has passed too quickly and now it’s five forty-five. Mina has already come home and she definitely sends Y/N a questioning look when she sees her chuckling on her phone. Y/N only flashes her a grin and mouths ‘just a bit more.’ Meanwhile, Yoongi has yet again started his “just five more minutes” hoax. Though that unexpectedly gets ended soon when Y/N hears Jeongguk’s voice pops up and asks Yoongi to come out and start preparing dinner. But just before Y/N could say goodbye and tell him one last time to “go hurry up and cook,” Yoongi interrupts her.

“You know, this is my kinda type of a date.”

“Thi-this is a date?”

“Yeah. You’re spending time with me. I’m spending time with you. And we’re having a good time. So yeah, this is a date.”

Y/N tries not to focus too much on what he said. “But how is this your type of a date? I thought you like bar dates?”

Yoongi guffaws. “Where the hell did you get that?”

“Jeff. He said you’re a bar-type guy.”

“Oooohhhh. So that’s why you suddenly wanted to have a date at Neo-Cloud 9 that day.”

Y/N shyly looks down at her hands.

“As much as I love alcohol, I don’t actually prefer drinking them in bars. They’re too noisy. Messy. And there’s a lot of people bumping into you.”

“Then why did you agree to go to Neo-Cloud 9 when you also don’t like bars?”

“Because you’re with me. You said it was your first time going in one, too, and I figured why not help you enjoy the experience.” Yoongi chuckles, “It’s not like I didn’t have fun with you anyway. In fact, I had so much fun. Especially at the part where you said you wanted to kiss me.”

“Oh my god, Min.”

“Don’t deny it anymore, sweetheart, I’ll—”

Y/N ends the call though. But that seems pointless when her chat pops up with another message from the man.

Min Yoongi >;) (5:50 P.M.)

“—make sure you’d remember it ‘til the die you die. I’ll live for as long as I can just to remind you of that.”

Y/N (5:51 P.M.)

“Sure. Whatever, Min.”

Y/N closes her phone with a chuckle. When she turns around to finally gather her used utensils, she’s greeted by Mina’s curious stare.

“You seem to be having fun with Yoongi these days.”

Y/N opens her mouth but Mina immediately interrupts her, “Oh don’t you deny it. I’ve seen you smiling a lot these days. Even when you still rant about him, I could see you’re actually having fun.”

Y/N raises her hands, “Okay, I admit, I’m actually having fun. But I think it has to do with us agreeing to compromise for this 14-day deal. Not because of…him.”

“But isn’t that good, though?” Mina asks, “This deal didn’t turn out as disastrous as I expected it to be. At least you’re trying to make the best out of it instead of busting each other’s heads off. Plus, a week has already passed. You only have seven days more. Everything will soon go back to normal.” Mina smiles, “Just a little more and you’ll soon get that benefit, Y/N.”

Mina excuses herself and heads to the kitchen to start dinner. As Y/N plops back down on the sofa, she realizes she’s got her answer. It’s just seven more days. Just seven more days to fully enjoy this deal. After that, it will all go back to the way it used to and she’ll have her work all to herself again. It wouldn’t hurt much if she chooses to turn down work for the first time and indulge in the last days of this ruse, right? The deal is bound to end soon anyway. It’s useless backing out now. She just has to make the best out of it.

But why can’t Y/N find it in herself to be fully happy about this?

prev | next | series masterlist

A/N| Hi hons! First of all, happy birthday to @wii-wii! I hope this post is not too late. I hope you had a wonderful day/night and may you always stay well and safe 💕

Thank you, hons, for waiting for the 2nd part of Act 2! Unfortunately, I don’t know when I’ll upload Act 3 as I’ll be prioritizing my fic first for @btswritingcafe’s Map of The Soul Workshop. And after that, I’m going to write a short story I’ll have to submit for my university’s journal. After then will I be able to go back to my schedule for THH. Don’t worry though, I already prepared a detailed outline for the rest of the Acts of THH so I think I wouldn’t take too long fumbling what scenes to write. Anyway, if you wish to get updated when Act 3 finally drops, just PM me or send me an ask and I’ll add you to the taglist!

Update: Comment down below instead if you want to get added to the taglist! I think it will help me to track all of you hons once I post the update!

299 notes · View notes

the-sympathetic-villain · 4 years ago

Text

You Belong With Me - Chapter 21

AO3 | First | Previous | Next | Masterpost

Description: Much to his surprise, after being released from prison for a crime he didn’t commit, Logan has been appointed as a the prince’s new advisor.

Word Count: 6246

Chapter Warnings: Some very light angst, Food (Let me know if I missed anything!)

Author’s note: Just an FYI, the AO3 link may be broken and the masterpost/previous posts may not link this chapter for a few days. I’m scheduling this ahead of time because I won’t have access to my computer and I will only have access to mobile when I post it.

In other news, this chapter marks 100K on this fic! And while it is still far from over, I’m super excited. This chapter is absolutely one of my favorites, so enjoy! :)

A knock at the door pulled Logan gently from his sleep. He opened his eyes blinking slowly as he let his eyes adjust to the dim light of the room around him. His sore muscles resisted as he rolled over on the back propping himself up on his elbows trying to steady himself. Sleep weighed heavily down on his body and he swayed slightly as he desperately trying to resist gravity’s persistent pull.

“Lo?”

Logan’s head jerked up in surprise as he recognized the prince’s voice. A mild jolt of adrenaline shot through his body as he watched the door cracked open. Quickly, he pushed himself upright, sucking in a breath as Roman’s head popped around the corner.

“Good afternoon, Logan,” Logan felt redness in his cheeks as Roman tilted his head through the door with a cocky grin. “May I come in?”

“Yes.” Logan straightened his posture, quickly pushing the hair from his eyes in a desperate attempt to appear presentable. “Please come in, Roman.”

“I apologize for waking you, my sweet hero,“ Roman swayed through the doorway, approaching with a tray in his hand. “but your food has arrived.”

“There is no need to apologize, Roman.” Logan smiled weakly as Roman approached the side of his bed with a bounce in his step. “I appreciate that you took the time to deliver it to me.”

“It is my pleasure, Lo.”

Logan’s face flushed as Roman leaned over him to rest the bed tray over Logan’s lap. Warm steam floated up from the warm plates and he took a deep breath, appreciating the way the humid air felt on his sore throat. He stared down at the tray for a moment, fiddling with the plate covers before Roman cleared his throat. Logan looked up at the sound surprised by the sight in front of him.

Roman clenched his hand, softly touching it to his lips as he looked down to Logan. He smiled, dropping his hand from his chin as he slowly took a breath. An uncharacteristic nervousness flickered in his eyes as he extended the open palm of his hand out to Logan. “May I join you for a while, Logan?”

Logan barely contained a smirk as he watched the prince wait nervously for his answer. “I’m under the impression that this is your bedroom, Roman. I don’t think I’m in a position to negotiate whether or not you have the right to stay.”

Roman’s smile sobered at Logan’s statement and Logan watched as Roman’s demeanor suddenly changed and his voice dropped to a serious tone. “You are my guest here, Logan. I don’t want there to be any misinterpretation of the powers at play here. If you say no, I will respect that. The choice is entirely in your hands.”

Logan smiled affectionately at the prince’s overly cautious concern. “I meant nothing by that Roman. Of course, I would be honored if you would stay.”

Roman’s anxiety seemed to ease and he smiled warmly down at Logan as he crossed over to the other side of the bed. Only as Roman slid gracefully on top of the silken sheets did Logan realize that he did not bring food for himself. “Are you not eating?”

“I ate earlier, Lo.” Roman turned to look at Logan. “I asked the cooks to delay your food for a while so you could rest for a few hours before eating.”

Logan hesitated nervously, feeling self-conscious about eating in front of the prince. Roman attempted a reassuring smile, but his smile faltered when Logan continued to shift uncomfortably.

“Patton also requested relatively bland food for you, in case you were still feeling nauseous.” Roman explained softly. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”

Logan smiled at Patton’s foresight, warmed that his friend had been considerate enough to think of his needs. “That’s not really my concern. I simply feel a little self-conscious about being watched while I eat.”

“I can go, if you like. Truly, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Roman stood quickly, giving an awkward bow as he moved to leave.. “Truly, I apologize for the intrusion—”

“Please stay, Roman.” Logan kept his expression carefully neutral as lifted the plate cover, trying to ease Roman’s anxiety while simultaneously hiding his own. Fortunately, his nervous energy eased as he lifted the plate cover and a warm rush of steam hit his face. He smiled, his mouth watering at the sight of the steaming food in front of him. He paused, turning to Roman with a curious smile, waiting for him to sit.

Roman hesitated, lowering himself back on the edge of he bed. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure, Roman.” Logan picked up spoon, absently stirring the bowl of broth on the tray as Roman carefully joined him on the bed once more. “To what do I owe this honor, my prince?”

“Logan, please.“

Logan absentmindedly glanced over at Roman, surprised to see discomfort in his eyes.

"There’s no need for you to use my title—”

“Roman—” Logan cautiously rested a hand on the prince’s forearm. “—I’m sorry. I intended your honorific merely as a term of endearment. If that is something that causes you discomfort, I will cease doing so.”

“I—” Roman’s protests trailed away as a subtle smile curled on his lips. He returned Logan’s soft gaze curiously. "A term of endearment?”

A smile twitched at the corner of Logan’s lips. “I must admit there is a certain appeal to the phrase.”

Roman watched Logan for a moment with an intense interest. “So long as you are not doing so out of a feeling of obligation of respect, I believe I can accept your use of the phrase.”

Logan smirked, raising an eyebrow at him. “Are you saying I’m not obligated to respect you, princey?”

Roman playfully rolled his eyes. “You’ve spent too much time with Virgil, Lo.”

“Perhaps I have.” Logan smiled, gently squeezing Roman’s arm before pulling his hand back. Lazily, he blew on a spoonful of broth before sipping at it slowly. His stomach turned as he swallowed and he was suddenly grateful for Patton’s foresight. Anything more substantial would absolutely have been too much for him to handle. Roman was silent for several minutes as Logan forced himself to swallow a few more spoonfuls of the broth. As the long pause continued, he finally turned back to the quiet prince. “So, Roman. Are you going to tell me why you are here?”

Roman seemed pulled from his daze, blinking absently at Logan as he swallowed another spoonful of the broth. “I wanted to talk to you, Logan.”

“I assumed as much when you asked to stay,” Logan leaned his elbows on the tray, turning his head to watch Roman next to him. “but generally one would expect you to begin speaking at some point if a conversation is your intended result.”

“You’re an awfully, snarky bastard once you get comfortable, Logan.” Roman could barely contain his smile as he gently rebuked Logan.

“I’ve heard worse.” Logan smirked, taking a stab at the roasted vegetables on his plate.“Are you regretting your decision to allow me to become so audacious, my prince?”

“Not in the slightest,” Roman exhaled slowly. “In fact, I daresay I’m enjoying your boldness.”

Logan’s heart fluttered at the praise and he was suddenly grateful for the bandages covering most of the redness spreading over his face. He bit his lip, trying to remain collected as he absently poked at his food before turning to look at Roman. “So, what did you want to discuss, Roman?”

“A lot has happened, Logan, and in all the chaos, I haven’t had a chance to talk to you.”

Logan stared at his food, keeping his voice steady as he prompted Roman to continue. “What did you wish to know about?”

“About what happened last night, Logan.” Roman’s face fell as Logan’s muscles tensed and his head turned away from Roman.

Logan clenched his jaw. “Roman, I promise I would like nothing more than to provide you with information about last night, but given the circumstances—"

“Wait, Logan.” Roman immediately backtracked. “Don’t misinterpret my intentions. I’m not here to pry for information about tonight’s events. All of that can wait until a more appropriate time. I only wish to know how you are doing through everything that happened.”

Logan relaxed slightly, exhaling a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “How I’m doing?”

“A lot has happened, Logan,” Roman moved down on the bed and turned so his body faced Logan. He slid closer until he looked across the tray at Logan. “You, in particular, have been through so much in the past day. I want to make sure you have what you need to continue to feel better.“

Logan leaned his elbows down onto the bed tray, resting one of his hands on one of the warm plate covers as he stared are Roman. He smiled, barely containing himself until he burst out laughing.

Roman raised an eyebrow and a subtle smile curled at the corner of his lips as he watched Logan lose control. His melodic laugh echoed in Roman’s ears as he melted. “And what are you laughing about, Lo?”

“This whole situation is absurd, Roman. In my most wild imaginings, I never could have predicted that recent events would result in me lying in the crowned prince’s bed, much less having you personally bring me meals in bed and lying there look—” Logan nearly bit his tongue, cutting off this own words as heat burned on his cheeks. He cleared his throat. “—I mean, acting the way you do.”

Roman raised an eyebrow knowingly and flashed a sly smile at him. “Are you not happy with your situation, Logan?”

Logan bit the inside of his cheek, trying to control the grin stretching across his face. “Certainly, I am happy to be here, Roman. That doesn’t detract from the idea that the situation is still absurd.”

Roman’s expression softened. “I know this has been a lot for you, Lo.”

Logan gently covered his mouth with a closed fist as his stomach twisted. He leaned back against the pillows with a deep breath. “I’m adjusting, Roman.”

“Logan, are you okay?” Roman leaned closer with concern.

“I’m quite alright, Roman.” Logan waved away his concern. “I’m merely a little nauseous but nothing to be concerned over.”

Roman leaned over, concerned. “Is that really all that’s bothering you? You’ve been through a lot tonight.”

Logan swallowed back his nausea and turned his gaze from his food. After a while, he looked up at Roman with a curious expression. “Actually, may I ask you something, Roman?”

“Of course.”

Logan crossed his arms across his chest, trying to find the right words. “I understand that you decided to help me partially out of a desire to make recompense for my wrongful imprisonment, but—”

After a moment of silence, Roman prompted him to continue. “But what?”

Logan met his gaze for a moment. “I was wondering if there was any other reason that you decided to offer me this position.”

Roman’s eyes narrowed in on Logan in confusion. “What other reason would I have, Logan?”

Logan shrugged. “If I knew, Roman, I wouldn’t be asking.”

“Okay, Logan.” Roman continued to stare at Logan carefully. “If that’s your question, I can answer with no issue. There was no ulterior motive to my decision. I simply wanted to ensure you were taken care of after what had happened to you.”

“So, if it had been someone else, you would have done the same for them?” Logan glanced up at him, anxiously chewing on his lip as he awaited Roman’s response.

Roman hesitated briefly. “Well, perhaps not exactly the same for anyone else.”

Logan tensed, crossing his arms tighter across his chest.

“Don’t get me wrong, Logan,” Roman held up a hand to reassure Logan. “I planned on offering you something, regardless of who you were, but I would not have offered one of the highest positions in the court to just anyone.”

“So why did you offer it to me, Roman?”

Roman hesitated. “I could tell you were intelligent and kind, Logan. The decision felt right.”

Logan’s face was unreadable as he sat quietly, apparently lost in thought.

“Why is that so hard to believe, Logan?”

Logan sighed. “You didn’t know me.”

“I didn’t. I made the decision based on my own intuition.” Roman paused. “I don’t know what to tell you, Lo. You’re special.”

Logan’s breath caught in his throat.

"Apparently, you’re unaware, Logan. You’re very special.”

He closed his eyes and he could almost see that glowing yellow eyes burning into the back of his eyelids as his voice echoed in his head. Gritting his teeth, he hung his head as he muttered a few words almost to himself. “I seem to keep hearing that—”

The amulet around his neck grew hot and he groaned as a single spark struck his neck. With a dissatisfied grunt, he slumped back into the pillow behind him.

Roman nearly rushed forward in surprise at Logan’s pained expression, but as he made to move, realization seemed to strike him. He hesitated briefly before sliding forward. He lifted the tray off of Logan’s lap and turned to slowly lower it down onto the ground next to the bed before moving closer to Logan. Carefully, he reached up to gently unfold Logan’s arms from where they were curled tightly around his chest. Logan resisted at first, but he remained gently persistent. He unfolded Logan’s arms and slid his hands down to gently support Logan’s wrists. Logan’s soft gasp nearly brought tears to his eyes, but Roman could see that Logan’s defensiveness was breaking down. All the same, he was quiet for a long time before he managed to whisper his question to Logan.

“Did Remus tell you were special, Logan?”

Logan didn’t even look up at him. He ached to answer, but the heat of the necklace burning around his throat warned him that doing so would cost him greatly. So, he just stared absently down at his hands. Fortunately, Roman seemed to infer the answer on his own.

“Right.” Roman whispered. He looked up to Logan’s face, frowning at the distant look in his eyes. He slowly set Logan’s hands in his lap and moved to sit next to Logan. He extended an arm over Logan’s back, inviting him to lean into his shoulder. “Come here, Lo.”

Logan hesitated briefly, before a small, tired smile curled at the corner of his lips as he allowed Roman to pull him underneath his shoulder. Logan smiled as his head rested on Roman’s chest and he let out a sigh as he felt Roman’s breath in his hair.

“Listen, Lo. I don’t have the answer you’re looking for.” Roman paused, leaning his forehead down on top of Logan’s head. “I don’t know why Remus decided to take an interest in you.”

Releasing a breath, Logan sank into the warmth of Roman’s chest, feeling defeated. “I knew it was unlikely, but not having an answer is difficult all the same.”

“I know this is a lot to ask of you after last night’s events,” Roman gently curled his arm tighter around Logan’s shoulder. “but I think for just one night you should let yourself forget everything that’s going on.”

“I don’t think I can—" Even as he tried to protest, Logan’s voice trailed off and a faint smile curled on Logan’s face as Roman’s arm tightened around him. “—need to figure out his plan.“

“We will figure everything out,” Roman whispered quietly. “but you deserve better than to worry your whole life away, Logan.”

Cautiously, he settled in next to Roman, eyeing him nervously, watching for any sign of hesitation from Roman as he slowly curled in close and wrapping his free arm around Roman’s waist. Seeing none, he closed his eyes, tensely settling next to Roman. The amulet around his neck felt heavy with the weight of Roman’s words. “I can’t let him—”

“Logan, Virgil and I have a plan for you tonight. You don’t have to do anything.” Roman hushed him softly. “Just let me give you one night of normalcy.”

Gratitude at Roman’s concern welled in Logan’s throat as he buried his face into Roman’s chest. He let out a breathless whisper. “Roman—”

“Let me make you happy, Logan.”

Logan shivered at the feeling of Roman’s warm breath in his hair. He closed his eyes, grabbing a handful of Roman’s shirt. His muscles tensed against Roman’s body.

Roman tensed. Concern flooded over him as he shifted down to look at Logan. “I’m sorry. Did I upset you?”

“No,” Logan lifted his head, eyes glistening in the dim light. “Thank you, Roman.”

Roman relaxed, smiling gently at Logan. Slowly, he reached a hand to Logan’s cheek. “For what, Logan?”

Logan sniffled quietly, cheeks red with emotion. “Thank you for caring, Roman.”

“It is truly my pleasure to do so, Lo.” Roman smiled, pulling Logan close as they sunk back into the pillows behind them. He nuzzled his head close to Logan’s with a wide grin. “Does this mean you’ll agree to join us tonight?”

Logan chuckled quietly and nodded, shivering pleasantly at Roman’s closeness. He sighed comfortably as he curled in close to Roman’s chest, enjoying the heat radiating off his body. Breathing deeply, his chest raised and lowered against Roman’s as his body melted into the prince. After a few minutes, Roman looked down to see Logan’s eyes drooping.

Roman leaned close to Logan’s ear and whispered. “We have a few hours before we’re going to go out. Would you like me to leave so you can rest until then?”

“No,” Logan pleaded quietly. “Please stay with me, Ro.“

Roman smiled sweetly, resting his head next to Logan. “Certainly, love.”

“He really is a deep sleeper, isn’t he?”

“You would be too, if you’d been through what he has tonight.”

“I already want to sleep for the next three days, princey.”

“Better wake up soon, Virge. We’ve still got a whole night ahead of us.”

“Don’t worry, princey. I’ll wake up quick once we get out into the cold.”

Logan stirred quietly, feeling Roman’s arms still draped loosely around him.

“Well, damn. I think he might be back among the living.”

Logan cracked open his eyes, settling his gaze on Virgil with a glare.

“What do you say, L?” Virgil teased with a cocky smile. “Are you ready to rise from your deep slumber?”

Logan continued to glare at him, knowing his attempt to feign irritation was significantly diminished by the blanket covering him nearly to his nose.

“Better watch out, Virge, or you’re going to be the one needing protection from him.”

Roman jostled him lightly and Logan couldn’t help the soft smile forming on his face. He stretched his arm lazily, rolling his eyes. “I think I will spare him my wrath just this once.”

“Thank the gods.” Virgil snorted with a devilish smirk. “The almighty and powerful Logan has chosen to let me live.”

“I reserve the right to reverse my decision.” Logan muttered with a tired smile as Patton giggled from the end of the bed.

“Are you ready for an adventure, Lo?”

Logan’s eyes turned up to gaze into Roman’s soft, brown eyes and he smiled. “I’m ready, princey.”

“Good.” Roman smiled brightly down at him for a moment before turning to Virgil with a smirk. “Did you want to want to tell him what we’re doing, Virgil?”

“You and Patton have had a rough, couple days, so we’re going to one of Patton’s favorite places in the whole castle.” Virgil smirked as Logan curiously sat up, watching Patton who was basically bouncing next to him.

"A place high in the sky—” Roman continued.

Virgil smirked. “A special place few people even know about—”

“We’re going to the observatory!” Patton nearly yelled with excitement.

“Well, there goes our dramatic tension, Pat.” Roman’s gentle scolding was undermined by his lack of attempt to hide his smile.

“Sorry, Ro.” Patton barely contained his very unapologetic smile. “I got too excited.”

Logan turned an absent look up at Roman as he spoke before turning back to Patton. “The observatory?”

Roman smiled down at him. “At the top of this tower is a special observatory that is home to one of the kingdom’s best kept secrets.”

“It’s a telescope, L.” Virgil smirked as Logan’s confused expression turned to him. “A big one. It runs nearly half the width of the tower and it’s just as tall.”

“It’s one of a kind.” Roman whispered proudly. “Probably the only one in the world of its like.”

“Really?” Logan looked between them curiously. Patton nodded enthusiastically, and Logan immediately sat up, burning with questions. “How—”

“No questions until we get there, Lo.”

“But—"

“See it first,” Roman smiled at Logan’s pout. “After that, you can ask as many questions as your heart desires. Agreed?”

Logan could barely contain his giddy smile behind his pout. “Very well, Roman. I will acquiesce to your terms, but only if you don’t make me wait.”

“Good,” Roman started to move beside him. “Let’s get you a coat and then we can head out.”

After he’d gotten dressed, Logan made his way to the door. Roman followed closely behind him and Logan could almost feel Roman watching him for signs of weakness. He let out a quiet breath, both exasperated and touched by the prince’s slightly overbearing concern.

“I feel fine, Roman. You don’t have to watch me so intently.” He flashed an appreciative smile at Roman’s abashed look. “I will inform you if my condition changes.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

Logan smiled at his relieved expression, slowly to a stop in front of the exit. He turned forward to see Virgil blocking the door with one hand on the handle. “Listen, everyone needs to stay close. We’re not taking any risks tonight, okay?”

Everyone solemnly nodded back at him. When Virgil seemed satisfied, he gave a nod to Roman while he slowly opened the door behind him.

“Good. Princey, take the lead. I’ll follow behind.” He opened the door for Roman, allowing Patton and Logan to follow closely behind him before trailing out behind them, locking the door as he took up his position in the rear.

Logan stayed only a few steps behind Roman as he led them through the narrow corridors up the top of the tower. He glanced around. Moonlight filtered into the narrow corridors through slit-like windows as they moved silently through the passageways.No torches hung in this part of the castle and Logan would guess that few of the it’s residents regularly ventured far up into the tower. A chilled breeze swept over the back of Logan’s neck and he shivered as Roman led them into the final corridor. He looked up to see the hallway unexpected open up to a large empty room. The room appeared to be empty. Unlike most of the castle, not a single tapestry decorated the room. It wasn’t until Logan squinted into the dark of the far side of the room that he even noticed a large set of stone stairs that rose up along the length of the wall, leading to a heavy-looking trapdoor in the ceiling.

Logan paused, taking in the strange room for a moment before Virgil dodged past them. With a quick hop, he climbed up to the top of the stairs. Logan heard the jangle of keys for a short moment before watching Virgil flipped open the trapdoor with a loud thud. Logan glanced at the others, who were patiently staring up at Virgil as he disappeared to the upper floor. A few silent moments passed before Virgil dipped his head back down, gesturing for them to follow him.

“After you.” Roman smiled and gestured dramatically for Logan to lead the way. He smiled as Patton nodded excitedly, bouncing a few steps behind him as he rushed up the stairs.

Logan gasped loudly as he walked into the room above. In the center of the room sat a massive, brass mechanical telescope. The massive contraption stood almost a full floor taller than the outer walls. it’s lens alone appeared to be taller than himself, although Logan was only guessing as it extended well over the edge of the tower walls pointed high in the sky. His jaw hung agape as he walked along the side of the machine, inspecting the intricate gears and cogs through glass panels lining the side of the telescope’s base.

“Wow,” He whispered breathlessly as he turned his gaze from the mechanical wonder to the open sky exposed above them. Not even a breeze disturbed the air as he stared straight through the open ceiling to the sky above. Despite being in the center of the bustling castle, he’d never seen the stars so clearly. Not a cloud hung in the sky as the thousands of tiny lights sparkled above them. Logan’s breath caught in his throat as he stared, unblinking, at the colorful wisps of the galaxy winding their way across the sky.

He forced himself to tear his gaze away from the sky to look around the room. The outer walls were lined with star maps and bookshelves full of more scrolls and books than he could hope to read in a year. Logan shivered again, though he suspected this one had less to do with the cold.

It’s perfect.

Logan watched absently as Patton jaunted over to join Virgil. They chattered excitedly at a desk next to the telescope’s eyepiece. Only a moment passed before Virgil started pulling star maps off the shelves and rolling them out for Patton. Logan smiled, listening to his excited squeals from across the room.

“You like it?”

Logan startled at the prince’s unexpected closeness, but he settled quickly, smiling as Roman stepped up behind him. “Yes, Roman. Very much so.”

“Good.” Roman smiled coyly as he circled Logan to stand in front of him. “As my personal advisor, you’re entitled to use this space as you please. Once everything calms down a bit and I can guarantee your safety, you’ll be able to come here whenever you like.”

“Really?” Logan looked at Roman in disbelief.

“Really, Lo.” Roman chuckled softly. “If you like, I’ll even eventually you to one of our experts and they can show you how to work some of the more intricate pieces.”

“I would enjoy that immensely.” Logan whispered as happy tears welled in his eyes. “Thank you, Roman. I couldn’t have asked for anything more.”

“Don’t thank me, Lo. This is simply part of package you signed up for when you accepted your position,” Roman reassured him. “and it’s about time you got to take advantage of the perks of your new title.”

Logan looked up at him shyly. “I honestly hadn’t considered there would be any benefits beyond financial compensation and living accommodations.“

Roman leaned against the edge of a nearby table and looked up at the open sky. “Logan, there’s so much more than even this, especially for an inquisitive mind like yours. You’ll have access to knowledge and tools you wouldn’t have dreamed of before.”

Logan looked away for a moment, lost in his thoughts. When he finally spoke, his voice was shaking and tears flowed down his face. “Roman—”

“Lo?!” Roman sprang over to him, suddenly concerned. He leaned close, aching to pull Logan into an embrace but hesitating to touch him without express permission while he was upset. Roman’s hands hovered just above Logan’s waist without making contact as he whispered softly to him. “Are you okay?”

There were tears in his eyes as he looked up at Roman but Roman relaxed as a smile spread across his face. “Yeah, Ro. I’m really good.”

Roman startled back as Logan stepped toward him. He froze, uncertain of how to react until Logan hesitantly reached out his hands, wrapping his arms around Roman’s waist. Roman’s shock faded, replaced with an affectionate warmth as he gently embraced Logan back.

“Thank you, Roman. I could repeat myself ad infinitum and I still don’t think it’d be adequate for expressing my gratitude for everything you’ve given me.”

“You deserve all of this and more, Logan, but I’m glad you’re happy.” Roman held him tightly for a long time but eventually he pulled back from Logan with a smile. “Alright, enough of this. I want to focus on you. Please, you must have questions about how it all works.”

Logan looked up at him nervously. “What happens if it rains?”

Roman paused for a moment before his shocked expression turned to a smug smile. “You are standing in front of one of the greatest scientific creations in the world and the first question burning in your mind is about the machine’s maintenance?”

“I can only assume that proper maintenance protocol is essential to the longevity of this marvelous machine.” Logan blushed. “I am concerned that it is exposed so openly to the elements.”

“You don’t think we took the proper precautions on one of the kingdom’s most prized possessions?” Roman smirked at him.

Logan’s face flushed a bright red. “N-no, I didn’t mean to imply—”

“It’s okay, Lo. No need to worry.” Roman chuckled, subtly enjoying Logan’s embarrassment. “That’s not the type of question I thought you would have, but it’s actually a question with an interesting answer.”

Logan smiled, appreciatively. “Would you care to elaborate?”

“Of course. I am here to entertain you above all else.” Roman smiled smugly as Logan flushed a bright red before turning to point up to the sky above them. “There is a thin, magical barrier forming a protective dome above us. It’s nothing spectacular but it keeps this room protected from the wind, rain, dirt and other things. It’s simple, but even the strongest storm would never breach the barrier.”

“That’s brilliant. So, there’s nothing visible to the naked eye that would obscure your line of sight.” Logan sucked in a breath, turning back to Roman. “How did I not know this was here?”

“It’s a well-kept secret, for the most part.” Roman shrugged.

“But how?” Logan pressed. “It’s massive and exposed. The structure must be visible from the ground, even if people don’t know what it is.”

“Have you ever seen it?” Roman prompted.

“No,” Logan turned to him, confused. “How is that possible?”

“That’s because the magical barrier also cloaks the exterior. From the outside, this tower looks like any of the others.”

“Amazing.” Logan exhaled.

Roman smiled fondly and extended a hand to Logan. “I think Virgil’s been showing Patton how to set it all up. Shall we join them for the real fun?”

Logan’s cheeks burned and he could only hope the chill in the air disguised his delight at Roman’s touch the prince took his hand and he allowed himself be led over to the telescope’s eyepiece.

“Can you see anything, Pat?” Virgil asked as they approached

“Yeah, but it’s pretty fuzzy, Virge.”

“Figures. Let me see again. I’m good at locating whatever I’m looking for, but getting a clear image is always a challenge.” Virgil leaned in again and fiddled with the knobs. “It’s definitely the most frustrating part of the process.”

“May I give it a shot?” Logan asked as Roman pulled him over.

“Sure, L. Maybe your touch is lighter than mine.” Virgil smiled at him and shrugged. “Come here and I’ll show you how all of the dials work.”

After a quick run through of the dials and knobs, Logan started to fiddle to adjust. He lost track of everything, feeling the massive telescope shift and change at the slightest turn of the small knobs. His friends were silent as they watched him work, fascinated by Logan’s intense focus.

A minute later, Logan stepped back, seemingly satisfied. He offered it to Patton. “Is that better?”

Patton stepped up and looked through the lens. “Oh, wow! That’s amazing, Logan!” He waved quickly to Virgil. “It’s so pretty. Come take a look, Virgil!”

Virgil stepped forward and Logan swelled with pride as Virgil gasped. “Wow, L. I’ve messed with this thing for years and never gotten it to focus this clearly.”

“Quick, Ro. Take a look and let’s find something else!” Patton cheered. Logan chuckled. It seemed to him that Patton was barely containing his urge to jump up and down excitedly.

Roman took a quick look and they continued on their search through the sky. Patton and Virgil soon settled into a rhythm of finding new challenges for Logan, challenging him to see if there was anything he couldn’t find. They cycled through planet, stars and other parts of the cosmos for what must have been hours, but Logan didn’t care. He found himself happily wishing this night would never end.

As the night drew on, Logan found himself peacefully leaning on the protective banister circling the telescope, waiting for Patton and Virgil to choose their next target. He felt a gentle touch on his skin, turning his head to see Roman leaning next to him. His arm brushed against Logan’s and he shivered. Goosebumps raised on his skin as he realized how close the prince was to him. He nervously glanced over at Patton and Virgil standing behind them, absorbed in the maps of the stars. Logan turned to face Roman but shied away as he noticed that the prince was watching him. He knew his face was bright red, despite his many desperate attempts to hide his feelings.

A second later, he watched as Roman reached a hand over to his, offering an open palm. Logan blinked for a second before slowly placing his hand into Roman’s. Roman turned Logan gently so he faced him and the prince’s hand slowly slipped into his, interlacing his fingers tightly with Logan’s. Logan’s skin tingled pleasantly as their hands interlocked perfectly and he looked up at Roman smiling down at him. His cheeks burned but Logan relaxed slightly, enjoying the feeling of Roman’s warmth next to him. He stared into the the prince’s soft, brown eyes with adoration for what felt like an eternity before he heard Patton call to him. Logan smiled as he reluctantly stepped away from Roman to rejoin Patton, letting his hand slip back to his side.

Logan took a deep breath, letting his nervousness slip away in order to focus on the task at hand. He found focusing to be significantly more challenging now because his hands were shaking, but after some arduous trial and error, he locked onto their final target, a small but bright planet near the horizon.

He moved aside to let Patton take a look. “Wow, That’s amazing. It’s so pretty and bright!”

“It’s one of my personal favorites, Pat. It’s a planet named Taranis and it’s actually possible to observe it with your bare eye.” Logan pointed to the horizon. “It’s just there. It’s the bright one near the horizon with the blueish hue.”

“Wow, Lo.” Patton followed his hand, mystified. “How do you know that?”

Logan smiled fondly, “Stories and secondhand information mostly. The lore and mythology surrounding that particular planet is quite fascinating.” Logan paused. “When I was a child, I noticed it’s unique coloration. Since then, I’ve clung on to any information about it that I could get my hands on. It’s visible all year round in different points in the sky, and in a strange way, that’s made it a source of comfort for me throughout my life.”

“That’s really cool, Lo.” Patton yawned. “It’s cool that it’s always there. Almost like a friend, just watching over you.”

Virgil leaned over and bumped his shoulder into Patton’s. “Is it time to call it a night, Pat?”

Patton yawned again and nodded.

“Come on, then.” Virgil grabbed Patton’s hand, pulling him up out of his chair. “You ready, princey?”

“Whenever you are, Virge.”

“Give me a minute to put everything away and we’ll head out.” Virgil turned to Patton. “Mind helping me clean up, Pat?”

“Absolutely, kiddo.” Patton jumped up to follow him over to the shelves.

Logan hesitated to follow, reluctant to allow the night end despite his fading energy. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Roman noticed his pause and stepped over to him. Sadness weighed heavy on his heart and he barely even managed to look up as Roman leaned in close to him.

“You seem disappointed, Lo.”

“I realize I am quickly exhausting my remaining energy,” Logan sighed, smiling sadly up at Roman as the reality of his situation came rushing back to him. “but I must admit, I find myself wishing tonight wasn’t ending.”

Roman smiled sweetly. “I know that everything going on make this difficult to believe, but tonight doesn’t have to be a one-time occurrence. Tonight, may be over, Logan, but this door is open to you forever. This is your place now and you can have a thousand more nights just like this one, if you like.“

After a pause, Logan smiled coyly at Roman. “Only one thousand?”

Roman grinned back at him. “You have a lifetime to explore the stars, Logan.”

Logan’s heart fluttered at Roman’s promises, and he turned to look up at the prince with an adoring smile. “I think I’d enjoy spending that time with you, Roman.”

General Taglist:

@somehow-i-got-an-account @justanotherhumanstuff

You Belong With Me Taglist:

@cas-is-a-hunter @insert-cool-blogname @ironwoman359 @i-know-im-smart @imbadatnames8d @croftersphoenix @optimistic-violinist @chronicallynervouschild @croftersjam15 @actitus-hypoleucos @unbefuckinglieveable @justthatamount @eeveeeclair246 @taxicabinmemphis @dwbh888

Taglist from @ the-taglist-repository

Everything (No NSFW/Vore)

@katelynn-a-fan @royal-stormcloud @thefivecalls @brain-deadx0 @the-grounded-raven @grouptalekindnesssoul @the-hoely-bleach @anvil527up @fanficloverinthesun

Fantasy

@arya-skywalker @callboxkat @rainbowbowtie @enby-phoenix @10moonymhrivertam @supernovainthenightsky @idont-freaking-know @hekking-happy-nonsense @aceawkwardunicorn

Humans

@starlight-era @just-your-typical-trans-guy @potatsanderssides @idont-freaking-know @aceawkwardunicorn

Royals

@rainbowbowtie @10moonymhrivertam @idont-freaking-know @hekking-happy-nonsense @aceawkwardunicorn

Logan-Centric

@robinwritesshitposts @thatgaydemigodnerd @averykedavra @potatsanderssides

Logince

@silverobsidion-speaks @a-fandom-trashdump @averykedavra @k1ngtok1 @potatsanderssides @sign-from-god-complex @idontcareaboutcanon

Hurt/Comfort

@callboxkat @nonasficcollection @supernovainthenightsky @evoodo123 @idont-freaking-know @hekking-happy-nonsense @cottonwoolsocks @aceawkwardunicorn

Touch Starvation

@demoniccheese83 @averykedavra @legendsgates @nonasficcollection @enby-phoenix @evoodo123 @idont-freaking-know @hekking-happy-nonsense @cottonwoolsocks @aceawkwardunicorn @dwbh888

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #ts logan #ts roman #ts virgil #ts patton #logince #LAMP #You Belong With Me #villain writes

69 notes · View notes

trashi-bee · 4 years ago

Text

Night Shift

Pairing: Young Sub! Joe Elliott x Sassy! Reader

Warnings: 18+ (smut!), light hair pulling, light choking, reader is kinda rude asf towards joe 🤪

Lil Summary: Joe’s your new coworker and things haven’t been going so smoothly, after causing you a considerable amount of stress you finally voice your irritation, which he responds to extremely well.

Requested Tags: @satchie666 @white-lightning-625

Special thanks to @thewritingdoll for forcing me 🔫 to write for the first time in DECADES (bc I never finish anything ☺️)

If you don’t think it’s trash lemme know 💖 I probably won’t add this onto my masterlist until I get my new laptop lol I hate posting on mobile tumblr,, the formatting just makes no sense to me 🥺

——

Working night shift had its perks. The hastle of dealing with the general public was reduced and the atmosphere was a lot more lax. For a while you had a pretty good thing going, being the only employee willing, or needed, to come in at such bleak hours.

Unfortunately, your boss had convinced himself you were in dire need of a workmate in case an incident were to occur, which wouldn’t have been so bad, had the person he hired been anybody else.

Joe was incapable… Really easy on the eyes, but unable to learn even the simplest of tasks. You’d considered having him fired, but couldn’t bring yourself to lodge a complaint. Sure, he’s a little daft, but having him parade into work with a pair of form fitting jeans stretched across his tight figure was almost enough to make up for it, almost.

The undeniable sound of glass shattering detaches you from your salacious thoughts, irritation immediately bubbling throughout your body. Not even an hour into tonight's shift and he’s already managed to turn your mood sour. Dragging your feet across the floor in a huff, you push your way through aisles of snacks and refreshments, stopping to exhale before you enter the room labeled ‘employees only’. The scene you’re met with would have been comical, had similar instances not happened several other times before. With a look of vapid confusion evident on his face, he looks down towards the floor, eyes laid upon the fragments strewn around his feet. The coffee, freshly brewed, had splattered across numerous tiles and up his taut, denim pants.

“Uuhhh, I don’t know how it slipped-”, disorderly grabbing a handful of the nearest napkins, he drops to his knees, further soaking his jeans with the caffeinated beverage while haphazardly mopping up the mess he had created. You’ve made an effort to tightly pinch the bridge of your nose to cease your escalating rage, preventing a full-on outburst. Plastering a forged smile upon your face, you finally gain enough composure to speak, “I’m almost impressed by how clumsy you are”. Looking into your eyes through stray strands of brunette hair, he flashes a vacuous smile, “I’m so sorry, Y/N, I promise I’ll do better… just having a hard time concentrating lately”.

Squinting your eyes in confusion, you’re bewildered by his confession, what exactly did that mean? Pushing all thoughts of perplexity to the side, you chalk it up to nothing, perhaps he was having a difficult time adjusting to night shift. Now feeling somewhat guilty for your attitude towards him, you lower onto your knees to help, carefully picking up rouge pieces of sharp glass.

After a considerable amount of time and effort, the mess is almost entirely taken care of, albeit a few sticky patches here and there. Caught up in cleaning the room around you, you’ve almost forgotten about your uncoordinated coworkers tarnished attire. Wringing out the bottom of his pants, he still manages to hold a delighted smile, as if nothing could ruin his cheerful mood. Maybe he wasn’t as terrible as you were leading him on to be, as you find your cold demeanour now warming up to his rapturous personality.

Simply watching him move was a spectacle of its own. The way he carried himself was .. klutzy, like he was unsure of his next move, allowing his body to haphazardly lead the way. Looking once more in your direction, he flips his hair to prevent it from further blocking his vision, leaving it to cascade down the side of his face. Straightening his frame and leaning against the nearest countertop, he stops to speak, putting on a tone that, if you weren’t mistaken, was slightly apprehensive “hey uh... I know we’ve only known each other for a few weeks, but I’ve been wondering-”, his body seemed to tense with each syllable that crossed his lips, feet unable to stay perfectly grounded. Just as he was about to finish his wavering sentence, his hand slightly slides forward, his large paw knocking a new slew of objects onto the floor.

You watch in vexation as he fumbles once more, like a bull in a china shop, unaware of his lanky stature. As soon as he’d begun to redeem himself, he’d managed to piss you off further. Neither of you had moved, he awaited carefully to gauge your emotions, eyes darting from the broken mug that decorated the floor and your face, now painted with a blank expression. No longer did you possess the patience to babysit a man your own age, every single instance of irritation he’s caused you now bubbling directly to the surface, irritability extremely evident in your voice “Can you do anything right?”.

Scratching the nape of his neck, he goes to shrug, “hey no need to be so-“ stopping him mid-sentence , you interrupt whatever thought he had conjured and thought appropriate to spill from his unoccupied skull, “I’ll speak to you in whatever manner I please, and if you have any ounce of intelligence, you’ll shut up to listen”. Quiet for once, his mouth stays firmly closed for what seems like the first time since you’ve met him. Proud of standing your ground, you begin once more, pushing your limits, “since it’s obvious there’s not a single thought floating through that pretty little head o’ yours, I’ll make this simple, I’m tired of your constant mistakes- it’s not cute, I’m not impressed, and you’re gonna start listening to my instructions or I’ll have you fired”, nibbling on his bottom lip and focusing on every word you speak, he eagerly shakes his head in agreeance, too scared to respond with any other notion.

“Now, I can tell you’ve never had to put on your big boy pants and put any effort into a single task, so this is gonna be rough, but I’m sure if you try really, really hard, you’ll be able to function somewhat decently, ya?”, conjuring up a smile that was sarcastically sweet, you finish, clasping your hands together to signify you’ve made your point. It wasn’t until the red hot rage within you had started to disperse with the end of your speech that you began to notice one unreasonably large elephant in the room; the crotch of his jeans now tighter than usual, a large protrusion begging to spring free from its confines.

Your first reaction was to scoff, you couldn’t believe he’d gotten off on your tangent, excited by your frustration and cruel words. Thoroughly eyeing up his bulge, you slowly trace your sight up to his reddening cheeks, “that’s the type of stuff you’re into?”.

Finally speaking up, his voice seems shakier than ever, shy and wavering, “well uh- fuck, it’s not my fault you look so damn good when you’re mad”, hyper-aware of the confession he begins to jumble his words, “well, I mean you always look good but- oh god I’m sorry I know I shouldn’t speak to you like this-“

Stepping forward and lifting your hand to the bottom half of his face, you cover the entirety of his mouth, “shut up”, using your other hand to trace lines on his stomach, he retracts, surprised by your touch. With a devious look on your face, you provide him with a proposition, “Do you want me to touch you?”. Since you’ve removed his ability to consent verbally, you await a nonverbal cue, one he provides before you’re able to finish your sentence, an undeniable yes given to you via enthusiastic nod.

Laughing at his eagerness to continue, you taunt him, sliding your northernmost hand into his dense locks and pulling on the strands. The hand once dancing on his abdomen now applying pressure on his clothed member. A string of whimpers already begin to fall from his plump lips, he reacts as if he’s barely been touched before. “You’re so..sensitive, does nobody touch you besides yourself?”, looking into your eyes with heavy lids, he begins to grind into your hand, keen for more friction “nobodies ever touched me quite like this”.

Shaking your head, you pull at his hair once more, lavishing in the power you have over him in this moment. “Really? surprised you haven’t been put in your place sooner, guess somebody had to do it”, outlining his rock solid cock with your hand, you begin a rhythm of running your fingers along his covered shaft, moving up and down his length again and again. A few small droplets of sweat begin to form on his skin, the pleasure he was so eager to receive now turning bitter sweet. Huffing out a sigh and continuing to rock his hips with the motion of your wrist, he pleads “can you please touch it, like- really touch it”.

Increasing the pace you’ve set on the outside of his jeans, you get extremely close to his face, so close that he goes in for a kiss, but you make sure to reject it. “I really don’t think you deserve that”.

Grasping the countertop to his side, he clamps down in frustration, looking to prevent himself from going off the deep end, allowing you to break him so easily. “I promise I’ll do anything you want, really I do”, finally releasing your grip on his hair, you move your hand onto his neck, lightly applying pressure and running your thumb along his jugular. “Baby boy, I’m certain you’d do anything I want no matter what”.

The new pet name seems to excite him further, as he’s now reduced himself to a mewling, needy little toy, giving into your cruel pleasure, twitching and jerking with your every touch. Eyes rolling into the back of his head, he sharply inhales, as if he was taken by surprise, “fuck, please don’t y/n”.

Applying much more pressure on his neck, you giggle, breaking him was so easy, and something you’re certain you’ll continue on future occasions. “Let it go, baby”, his orgasm was coming on fast and strong, you could tell from the way he squirmed beneath your unrelenting touch.

With one final thrust against your hand he trembles, a sweet sob leaving his mouth, making you aware that he’d actually came from nothing more than clothed petting. A small wet patch had formed on his crotch, physical evidence that he’d climaxed in his pants.

Standing up straight and composing yourself, you run your hands down your body to rid your attire of any wrinkles or imperfections. You’d been away from the front of the store for so long, you’re certain somebody must’ve been awaiting service and you didn’t want to look disheveled in front of a customer. Turning on your heels, you glance back at him before exiting to attend to your duties, “change the pants, clean up the mess you’ve made and meet me out front when you’re ready to learn”.

#joe elliott #HOE ELLIOTT #def leppard #joe elliott x reader #joe elliott smut #def leppard smut #smut #omg this picture.. of joe #so nervous i accidentally referred to him as joel in this and never noticed #sorry yall this is.. trash

79 notes · View notes

buttonso · 4 years ago

Text

Happy Birthday, Harvey

WELL.... it’s Winter 14, gotta do something to acknowledge it! My drawing game is garbage today, so, I thought I would post a chapter from the fic I’ve been working on since summer. This is actually the fourth chapter, but one could read it as a standalone. The fic itself is rated Mature on AO3, but this chapter is pure fluff and should be appropriate for teens- there are a few swear words.

14th of Winter Ascending

Standing before the floor-length mirror on the back of his bathroom door, Harvey stood up as straight as he could, puffing his chest out. Unable to sit still or relax the last several hours, he’d taken exceptional care with his clothing this evening, putting on his best suit and tie, polishing his glasses and combing his hair carefully. ~Well... do I look handsome? Manly?~ He drooped and sighed. ~Or am I just a dork in a cheap suit?~ He wasn’t sure what he was hoping for tonight. It had all the hallmarks of a romantic date, but neither of them had stated their feelings explicitly.

He hadn’t helped himself any with his own indecision. All that concern about ethics… he was starting to wonder if that had just been his fear talking, an excuse not to put himself out on a limb, not to take a chance. Or was he now, in turn, just rationalizing away his ethics in order to try to get what he wanted?

~And what do I want?~ he asked himself as he adjusted his tie for the umpteenth time. ~I’m not just trying to… to get in her pants.~ He blushed to even think that vulgar term. He’d be lying if he claimed to not be interested in that, but…

But, but, BUT… “I’m going to give myself a stroke if I keep thinking about this,” he said aloud, frowning at his reflection. Aura was his friend. He trusted her, and thinking about not having her in his life was just too difficult to contemplate. No matter what happened tonight, it was bound to, at least, be a pleasant evening with a dear friend. He glanced at his watch and nodded to himself. He’d have to get going soon if he was going to make it to the farm by 6…

Just as he turned to pick up his building keys, the buzzer linked to the after-hours doorbell began to ring. He froze, listening to the harsh sound, not really registering it for a moment, then dropped his keys on the table in exasperation. Of course. OF COURSE there would be an emergency, right now. ~It had better be something damn serious,~ He thought irritably as he stomped down the stairs into the clinic, through the lobby to the front door, throwing it open with some force…

Only to find Aura standing on his doorstep, holding a large basket and looking a bit sheepish.

“Um… hey Harvey.” She looked a little disheveled, her hair escaping from what had probably once been an elegant twist at the back of her neck. Her red scarf was drooping off her shoulder and trailing in the slush on the street at her feet. “I’ve… had some difficulties,” She said slowly, giving him a weak smile.

“Are you all right??” He exclaimed, pushing the door open wider so she could come in.

“Yeah… I’m fine except for… everything I had planned… being… completely… fucked…” She answered through gritted teeth, her forced cheerfulness fading with every word until she sounded near tears. “My piece of shit oven crapped out on me… sorry for swearing so much, I just… just…” Her shoulders started to shake and he quickly took the basket from her hands, setting it on the clinic’s front counter.

“Don’t worry about that, just… come on, let’s get you warm,” He said quickly, picking up her scarf as it finally fell off her shoulder. “Where’s Buttercup?” Surely she hadn’t walked all the way from the farm...

“I-I walked…”

DAMN IT. He opened his mouth to scold her, but she continued to speak in a rapid, somewhat strained tone.

“…Buttercup threw a shoe earlier today… I took her to Marnie’s but she said the farrier couldn’t come until Tuesday… didn’t want to risk laming her.. that wasn’t even the first thing to go wrong today. First thing this morning Murphy brought in a… I don’t even know what it was, I swear it was the size of a raccoon… but he dropped it on me in bed and the fucking thing was still alive… Then I dropped a preserve jar in the kitchen and the goddamn thing EXPLODED, I had cranberry jelly all over my kitchen AND ME, it was even in my hair…I swear, I’m going to start taking that bullshit fortuneteller on TV seriously, you know, she said it was a bad luck day when I got my ass kicked in the mines, too…”

“Why didn’t you just call and cancel?!” Harvey interrupted, aghast, as he pulled the door closed behind them. He tried to take her coat, but she waved him off.

“No way… I wasn’t going to leave you in the lurch on your birthday,” She said stubbornly. “So... I improvised.” She gestured impatiently at the basket on the counter while Harvey made a second attempt at taking her coat. She evaded him, pacing the length of the counter and back.

“Aura, how do you think I’d feel if you… if you broke your ankle and fell into some snowbank and died of hypothermia or something?!” He asked crossly.

“I imagine you would resurrect me just so you could yell at me,” She sniffed and shrugged out of her coat, tossing it onto the counter.

She wore a simple long-sleeved red and black striped sweater-dress that hugged her body to just above her knees, with black leggings and little in the way of jewelry besides a silver chain that rested in the hollow of her throat. On her feet she wore black boots, laced tightly to mid-calf. The outfit was so simple, but it looked amazing on her. He knew he was staring… and that he should stop… or at least say something…

“So…” Aura’s cheeks, already pink from the cold outside, flushed a bit brighter as she moved jerkily towards the basket on the counter. “I think… there’s something we should get out of the way, before this evening goes any further.”

“Oh…?” Harvey’s breath caught in his throat, and he had the curious sensation of standing on a precipice.

Aura’s hands trembled slightly as she opened the flaps at the top of the basket and reached inside, slowly drawing out… a bouquet? A sweet-smelling mass of purple, blue, silver and white. Purple and white crocus blooms were interwoven with bright blue crystal fruits and white snow yams, the whole thing secured with a wide dark-blue ribbon. She held it out towards him, her expression shy.

His heart skipped a beat.

Could it be…?

“I’ve been told that people around here declare… feelings… that is, romantic feelings… with a bouquet. I wasn’t sure at first… I mean, most places I’ve lived, people don’t really do flowers at all, let alone women giving them to men, but… I asked Marnie if it was true and she said it was.”

“You… talked to Marnie about this?” Harvey asked, his mouth going dry.

“Yeah. After I went home from the clinic,” She replied. “Well… I knew if I bought a bouquet at Pierre’s, the whole town would know about it before… before the person I wanted to give it to. And it’s not like I didn’t have time to kill over the last week…”

“…I see…” The leaves shivered as his hands closed over hers. Her hands were trembling as much as his were.

“Harvey… I think it’s pretty obvious even without these flowers… how I feel about you. But, just in case it’s not, well… here they are.” Her silver eyes held his. “For awhile now I’ve felt like… like we’re holding ourselves back. I don’t want to hold myself back anymore. But if you don’t want it, then... then we’ll say no more about it, ok?”

She tried to pull back, but Harvey’s hands reflexively tightened around hers. He couldn’t speak, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to let her go either.

“…Harvey?” She tilted her head slightly. “…Are you OK?” A thousand emotions and thoughts were clamoring in his mind, making it hard to focus. This was everything he’d wanted for so long… he’d told himself, over and over, that it was wrong to wish, to hope, wrong to want her. The excuses varied from day to day, moment to moment. Either he wasn’t good enough for her because she deserved someone more handsome, or someone braver, or someone stronger… whatever way he felt inadequate that particular day. If it wasn’t that, then he told himself it would be ethically wrong, to hit on her while she was his patient… but it was all a way to keep a greater heartache at bay.

“Harvey, please… either reject me or…or don’t…” She whispered. Her silver eyes were shadowed with vulnerability. He’d dreamed of her for so long… could he really hurt her now?

“Aura, I…” He cleared his throat. “…I’m not strong enough…”

“Oh, DAMN IT, Harvey…” She stomped her foot in frustration, but before she could say anything else, he pulled her to him, crushing the lovely bouquet between them. Purple petals scattered around them as he wrapped one arm around her, holding her against him, finally holding her like he’d wanted to for months, practically from the moment they met. They each still had one hand on the bouquet, now squished awkwardly between them, and Aura’s spare hand clutched at his shirt.

“I was going to say… I’m not strong enough… to pretend like this isn’t exactly what I wanted,” He said in a shaky voice. “I kept coming up with excuses as to why I couldn’t be with you… because I was so afraid…”

“Harvey…” She squeaked. “Ribs…”

“Oh…” another flurry of purple petals as he released her, his hands going to her side, anxiously probing her ribcage while she continued to awkwardly held the smashed bouquet at arm’s length.

“Harvey….Harvey.” Her free hand batted at his shoulder. “Trying to feel me up when you haven’t even kissed me yet?” A bit of her usual dry humor was back in her voice, though with a bit of a tremble to it. When he looked up, her silver gaze captured him again, and she smiled, brushing her fingers across his cheek, then trailing enticingly over his lips. “You have beautiful eyes, you know,” She told him softly. “Lovely hazel green…It’s one of the first things I noticed about you.”

Harvey wasn’t sure if he kissed her, or she him, but it seemed as if every nerve in his body came to life when her lips pressed to his, a deep thrill running up his spine and making him shiver all over. There was a soft rustle as she finally dropped the bouquet and wound her arms around his neck, pressing her chest into his. When they parted, they were both a little breathless, and he felt himself smiling so broadly it almost hurt.

“I guess… I’ll just have to take the bus to the city when I have the sniffles,” She said archly, resting her forehead against his. “Since you’re so hung up about having to be my doctor…”

“Aura….” There were so many things he wanted to say, that it was her eyes that had drawn him in at the beginning, that he’d dreamed of this moment for so long…

…That there were so many things he was still afraid of…

“Just… just don’t ever let yourself get hurt like that again… my heart can’t take it…” He finally answered, shaking his head and hugging her as tightly as he dared to. “Thinking I’d lost you… I’d never been so miserable…”

Aura let him hold her for another long moment, burying her face in his shoulder. “I’ll do my best… it’s not like I enjoyed having a brush with death,” she answered, voice muffled. Then she gave him another, lighter kiss, this time on his cheek. “Happy birthday, Harvey. I may not have been able to make the dinner I had planned, but I brought leftovers from yesterday and I just thought, well…. We could just be together for a little while?”

“I didn’t think this birthday could get any better…” Harvey said as they stepped away from each other, hands tightly linked. He looked down in regret at the pile of blue and purple petals scattered on the floor around them. “I’m so sorry about that though… it was so beautiful, it really was..”

“Maybe I’ll make you another next year…” She said as they both knelt to scoop up the fallen flora. She fished out a crocus that had survived the tumble to the floor, still intact, turning it slowly in her fingers, then absently tucked it behind her ear. “Save these, though, the crystal fruit make for pretty decent wine. Waste not, want not.”

Harvey caught her hands again, turning them over to admire her long, strong fingers, tracing the callouses on her palms before tugging her to her feet. “Come on.. let’s just worry about the mess later. You’re probably starving.”

“But we can just…” She began, then shrugged. “OK, birthday boy… you’re the boss.”

In that moment, it seemed the light in her smile would keep him warm for the rest of the winter.

____

If you are interested in reading more, it can be found here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25158031/chapters/60962605

#stardew valley fanfic #sdv fanfic #stardew harvey #sdv harvey #i am nervous as hell about linking this thing here #lol be kind please

28 notes · View notes

localswordlesbian · 4 years ago

Text

in case you don’t live forever

Martin panics when he notices Jon's eyes open as he sleeps, forcing him to remember a horrible six months in a hospital with so much uncertainty. Afterwards, Jon introduces Martin to one of he and Georgie's university traditions – stick poke tattoos.

(also known as i’m back on my bullshit of posting old fics from ao3 here on tumblr)

i’ve also got a playlist of all the songs that my fics are titled after, find it here

read it on ao3 or below the cut

The sun was rarely enough to wake Martin up.

Normally, he’d set himself an alarm, but more often than not Jon would wake up before his alarm anyway and he would much rather wake up to Jon shaking his arm and saying his name than some stupid, blaring alarm.

That morning, though, Martin woke up first. The sky was still dark, with the barest hint of the orange of sunrise peeking in through the curtains and tinting the dark floors. He sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes blearily as his vision focused on the slumbering figure next to him.

His heart leapt into his throat and he couldn’t hold in a gasp as he saw Jon, lying on his side with a hand on the pillow next to where Martin’s head had been, eyes wide open and staring at nothing.

Martin was suddenly back beside that hospital bed, watching Jon stare at the ceiling, all but dead – Martin gripping his cold, cold hand, begging himself not to cry and Jon to wake up, please wake up, I need you–

He was back in his bedroom, heart thundering, silent tears trekking down his cheeks and dripping onto his pyjamas, his hands shaking as an uncontrollable shiver passed through his entire body and he clasped a hand over his mouth, trying to muffle his sobs.

Jon’s face was stoic in sleep, and Martin slowly reached a hand out, hovering over where his pulse would be, if he wasn’t dead. If he hadn’t slipped away from Martin while they slept, and this time, not to return to life – to him. His hands still shaking, he placed two fingers delicately against Jon’s neck, because he had to check, he had to know, he had to–

There, beneath his fingers, was a pulse. Martin released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and he tried desperately to contain his sobbing, sobs of relief that flooded through his veins at the realization that the man he loved was alive.

“Martin?”

He heard Jon’s voice breaking through his panic a moment before he felt hands taking his and squeezing his fingers tightly. He focused on that sensation, the feeling of his own knuckles digging into his skin, of Jon’s hands enveloping his own with a gentle firmness, a grounding force that said I’m here, don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere .

Once his heartbeat had calmed into a manageable beat, he opened his eyes. Jon was sitting in front of him, still holding onto his hands, looking at him with such worry in his eyes that Martin’s heart twisted. “Are you okay?”

Martin nodded slowly, squeezing Jon’s hands. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“What for?”

“Waking you, I guess.”

“Martin,” Jon said, his voice painfully gentle. “Don’t– please don’t apologize.”

Martin choked down another apology, forcing himself to look at Jon. His eyes were open and expressive, not that blank stare of both sleep and death; his brows furrowed and even in the dark Martin could tell he was frowning. “I’m okay, I promise.”

Jon pursed his lips. “I was– I did it again, didn’t I?”

Martin nodded. “It’s not… I know you can’t control it, I just… every time I see it, I’m back in that hospital room all over again.”

Jon nodded, leaning forward and resting his forehead against Martin’s chest, his head just under Martin’s chin. “I’m sorry, love.” he murmured.

Martin snorted. “It’s not your fault, it’s not like you asked to die.”

Jon hummed. “I know. I suppose it just felt appropriate to say.”

They held each other as the sun began to trickle its way into the room, orange light spilling onto the floor and the fear began to ebb from Martin’s chest. He knew, logically, that Jon sometimes still slept with his eyes open and that didn’t mean he’d suddenly died in his sleep, but he could never seem to shake that fear – he’d seen what Jon looked like dead, and the two didn’t look different enough for comfort.

Eventually they stood, feeling as close to okay as they could get. As Jon ran his hands through his hair, Martin noticed something peeking out from behind his ear.

“Jon?” he called. “What’s that? Behind your ear?”

Jon seemed to instinctively move his hand up over the spot Martin was pointing to, his expression surprised. “Oh, that. It’s, well, it’s kind of a funny story, actually. In university, Georgie went through a phase of learning how to do stick-poke tattoos. She taught me to do them and we gave each other new ones as soon as the old ones wore off. One day, on our first day of our last year, she convinced me to pick a favourite one to get tattooed. I wanted one that wouldn’t be too visible, so I got it behind my ear.”

Martin gaped at him. “You have a tattoo ?” he demanded.

Jon chuckled. “I’m a man of many mysteries,” he teased.

Martin rolled his eyes. “To know and never be known, what an existence,” he deadpanned, and Jon laughed. “Come here and let me see it.”

Jon smiled as he walked over, moving his hair aside so Martin could get a better look at the lines of ink behind his ear. It was a design of a simplistic cassette tape, with spools of tape spilling from the top and creating a loopy heart pattern above it.

“It was Georgie’s design,” Jon explained softly. “Feels a little ironic now,” he said with a laugh. “And yet, I can’t bring myself to regret it.”

Jon was standing in front of where Martin was sitting on the bed, hardly having to lean down to make the tattoo eye level with Martin. Leaning up slightly, Martin pressed his lips to the ink briefly before smiling up at Jon. “It’s pretty.”

Jon nodded, pushing his hair behind his ear. “Yes. In fact, I think I still remember how to do stick-poke tattoos,” he mused.

Martin smirked. “Are you implying something?”

Jon smacked his shoulder. “Arse.”

“Coming from you.”

Jon curled a strand of Martin’s hair around his finger – the pink was starting to fade, and Martin wondered if he should redye it. He liked the pink. “I think it’d suit you.”

Martin considered for a moment. He’d never thought about tattoos, never thought there would be anything he’d want on his body forever, but he supposed something temporary…

“Okay,” he said. “Sure.”

That was how they ended up on the bathroom floor, hardly more than an hour after dawn, with Jon dipping a needle into a bottle of ink, because of course you just had that lying around, Jon . “What design do you want?” Jon asked.

Martin considered for a moment. It’s not like it was consequential – just a small, temporary tattoo on his ankle, easily covered by a sock if needed. “Surprise me.”

Jon considered for a moment before setting to work. Martin hissed as the needle punctured his skin, though he waved off Jon’s concern. The needle stung each time Jon stuck it in his ankle, though he quickly adjusted to the pain as Jon worked, concentrating on making sure he didn’t mess up the design. Martin sat back on his hands. “How exactly did this little tradition with Georgie come about?” he asked.

Jon thought for a moment. “She was stressed about an exam one night,” he said. “Said she needed to do something with all her pent-up energy instead of stewing in it. So she learned how to do these as a form of stress relief, and when I commented on it she insisted on giving me a couple, too. I guess it just stuck from there – they always faded after a while, so there was no real commitment issue, and they were fun.”

Martin chuckled. “Sounds like you were a real enigma in university,” he mused.

Jon laughed. “Certainly compared to now.”

Martin watched Jon’s hands as he worked with deftly injecting the ink under his skin. “I never got to go to university,” he mused. “Despite how stressful it sounds, I think I would have liked to go.”

Jon looked up at him. “Why don’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s not like it’s ever really too late to go to school. You could enroll now, part time or full time, study something you love. Major in poetry.”

“If you didn’t have a needle to my ankle, I’d smack you.”

Jon chuckled. “I mean it. You could have that experience you never got to have.”

Martin considered this. He’d never thought about going to school as a grown adult, taking classes and exams and having fun with other students – that particular part of growing up had been stolen from him too soon. He imagined getting up in the morning, grabbing his tea to go, walking across a campus with books in his arms on his way to a class where he’d get to discuss… something. “I suppose I could… give it a try,” he said slowly.

Jon gave him an encouraging smile as he sat back, depositing the needle. “Well, it’s done.”

Martin looked at the design on his ankle – it was a looping cursive design, branching off and creating separate designs of flowers and stars as it turned in a circle like an intricate ouroboros. Despite knowing it was written in English, Martin had no clue what it said, and he expressed as much to Jon.

Jon ducked his head. “It, uh… it says I see you .”

A lump formed in Martin’s throat as tears welled in his eyes. He wanted to make a joke, a comment about how corny it was, but all that came out was a choked “Jon,” and then Jon had his arms around him and his face was buried in Jon’s hair. “I love you,” he whispered.

Jon rubbed his back soothingly, knowing what those words meant to him – they meant he was not alone, that he had someone in this world who cared for him, who would never let him forget how loved he was.

They both knew that, even once the ink faded from his skin, those words would ring through for the rest of their lives. Jon saw him, back then when he was lost and broken and desperately in need of a hand to hold, and Jon supplied that hand with patience and love. Martin did the same for Jon, those days where his guilt got the better of him, when he was left feeling empty and meaningless in the aftermath of his powers.

Later that week, tattoo still fresh on his ankle, Martin looked up at Jon over his tea. “I’m going to apply to the University of London.”

Jon gave him a soft smile. “Good, good,” Jon murmured. “I’m really proud of you, Martin.”

Martin smiled back. “Me too.”

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #tma fic #fic #fluff #ao3

9 notes · View notes

cheri-translates · 4 years ago

Text

[CN] 3rd Anniversary Love Carnival - Shaw

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for an event which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Shaw’s Prologue: here

3rd Anniversary Masterlist: here

[ PART ONE ]

The moment we step into the amusement park, I see that a small stall not too far away is surrounded by people.

MC: That place seems very crowded...

I lift my head, noticing that curiosity has also surfaced in Shaw’s eyes.

With a slight curl of his lips, he tilts his chin towards the front.

Shaw: Let’s take a look.

In front of the small stall--

Shaw: ...why’s this thing so popular?

Shaw frowns, unable to comprehend what’s before him.

Frog eyes, bows, bee feelers... the stall is filled with all sorts of headbands.

Couples are bantering with each other while selecting appropriate styles for the other party.

Shaw bends down, leaning towards my ear--

Shaw: Don’t they feel silly wearing those things?

I find myself chuckling. Then, I hurriedly retract it. When I realise that the people around aren’t paying attention to us, I respond softly.

MC: Don’t you see how happy they look? Also, these headbands even come with earmuffs, and can keep one warm in winter.

Looking at how furry the earmuffs are, I feel as though wearing them would definitely keep me very warm.

Shaw: It’s not even cold today... Are you cold?

I shake my head.

MC: Even if it’s not for keeping one warm, it’s so cute just to wear them.

I walk forward. After sweeping a glance over them, I select a headband, wearing it on my head.

MC: Isn't it cute?

I turn to look at Shaw, and the white halo on the headband sways gently along with my action.

After looking me up and down, his brows arch slightly.

Shaw: ...I think--

Boss: Cute, cute!

The boss of the small stall shoots me a thumbs up. Then, he takes another headband from the rack, recommending it to us enthusiastically.

Boss: Cute girl, these two come in a set. If you buy them together, there’s a discount!

I look at it, noticing that the headband in his hand has two red horns which are sparkling and emitting light.

Shaw glances at it too, his eyes revealing some distaste.

After some thought, I make a decision.

MC: No need, I’ll just get this one.

I point at the headband I’m currently wearing, rejecting the boss’ suggestion with a smile. However, he doesn’t give up.

Boss: Consider it again? A handsome man and a beautiful woman - if the two of you wear them together, it’d be very matching!

MC: There’s really no need.

Faced with the boss’ repeated suggestions, I remain vehement, sticking to my principle of “only buying one”.

As Shaw listens at the side, his brows become increasingly furrowed. In the end, he can’t help but speak.

Shaw: You don’t want to wear it with me that much?

MC: Of course not.

Laughing on the inside, I pretend to make a surprised expression, waving my hands in front of him.

MC: I just think you definitely wouldn’t wear it. After all... you said this was very silly, right?

Shaw watches me quietly. After two seconds, he suddenly speaks.

Shaw: Did I say that?

MC: ?!

This time, I’m genuinely shocked. I didn’t expect him to take back what he just said. He actually didn’t admit what he had done.

Shaw: Even if I did say it, that was just now. It doesn’t reflect my present thoughts.

He says this with self-confidence. Seeing that I’m speechless, Shaw averts his eyes leisurely, turning to the boss in a good mood.

Shaw: Boss. How much for two?

[ PART TWO ]

For the first ride, Shaw pulls me towards one of the main attractions – the U-shaped roller coaster.

While seated, I grip the safety bar tightly.

As though sensing that I’m slightly nervous, Shaw leans over, his tone teasing.

Shaw: It’s all right. If you’re scared, just scream. I promise I wouldn’t laugh at you.

I. Don’t. Believe. That!

Keeping my expression blank, I keep my eyes forward.

MC: What a joke. I’m not scared at all.

Shaw: Really? How about this. Let’s make a bet. Whoever exclaims first will have to accept a punishment. How’s that?

Seeing the unconcealed challenge in his eyes, I nod, refusing to appear weak.

MC: Sure! I’m not scared!

Everyone else: Ahhhhhhhhh–

Both the exclamations from the crowd and the U-shaped roller coaster are tossed to the skies. The strong centrifugal force causes my heart rate to speed up as the coaster moves to and fro.

I shut my eyes, gritting my teeth–

I’m determined not to make a sound!

As though he guesses what I’m thinking, Shaw’s voice is suddenly at my ear.

Shaw: Just scream if you’re scared–

I respond to him loudly.

MC: I’m not scared–

The gradually increasing inertia and gravity tosses us to and fro, and it’s so fast that it’s as though even our shadows can’t keep up with us.

My hand subconsciously flies in the air, and I cling onto something subconsciously. Instinctively, I grip it tightly–

??: Mm–!!

When we return to the ground, I seem to have been given a second life, my face glowing and radiant.

MC: It’s finally over!

However, Shaw’s expression is in clear contrast to mine. The earlier excitement is completely gone from his face.

With a dark expression, he twists his wrist.

Shaw: You’ve got quite a lot of strength…

A little embarrassed, I release a soft cough. I didn’t think that the thing I had grabbed in my frantic state was actually Shaw’s hand.

Shaw: Say it. What do you want me to do?

MC: Huh?

I hesitate for a moment, then realise that he’s referring to the bet earlier.

MC: Just forget about it…

Looking at the indistinct nail marks on Shaw’s hand, and out of the kindness of my heart, I decide to divert the conversation topic. However, Shaw has no intention to do so.

Shaw: Do I look like the type of person who doesn’t keep his word? Since I promised you, I’ll do it.

Given his insistence, I no longer decline. So, I hold my chin and start thinking.

What kind of punishment would be good? After some thought, I shoot him a brilliant smile.

MC: First, lower your head. It isn’t convenient at this height.

Shaw is stunned for a moment. He frowns, his expression a little odd.

Shaw: Are you thinking of…

MC: Also, close your eyes.

Shaw’s expression turns even stranger. He seems to be somewhat uneasy, but still does what I say and bends down, shutting his eyes tight.

Shaw: You’ve got quite a number of tricks up your sleeve…

Hands behind my back, I shift nearer to Shaw.

Sensing my closeness, his brows twitch slightly.

With Shaw’s face so close to me, I chuckle–

Then, I reach out to give him a flick on the forehead.

Shaw: [hissing in pain] Ss–

Shaw’s eyes snap open, and he looks slightly muddled and lost.

Witnessing this rare expression, I rein in my laughter, nodding in satisfaction.

MC: You’re always flicking my forehead. This time, we’re even.

Shaw: …

MC: …what’s wrong?

Shaw: …very good. Just you wait.

[ PART THREE ]

Because of the sheer number of people in the cafeterias, Shaw and I decide to buy some food from the small stalls to fill our stomachs.

He places the big bag on a bench, taking out two character-shaped snacks.

After comparing them, Shaw hands me the one decorated with pink bows.

MC: What’s this?

Shaw: You’ll know if you eat it.

Saying this, he sits down beside me.

Even when it comes to things like this, he wants to keep one in suspense. While grumbling in my heart, I give it a bite. Sweetness fills my mouth in an instant.

MC: …bean paste bun?

I look at the bun in Shaw’s hand which he’s also taken a bite out of, and realise that it has minced meat in it. Curious, I ask him:

MC: Why does yours have minced meat stuffing while mine has bean paste stuffing?

Shaw pauses.

Shaw: Huh? Don’t you girls like eating sweet food?

A twinge of confusion flashes in his eyes. Giving it some thought, I try to explain.

MC: People’s tastes can’t be generalised. For example, no matter when or where, I like eating minced meat.

Shaw: …how troublesome.

Shaw mutters, then splits the meat bun into two, giving half of it to me.

Shaw: Take it.

Stunned, I look at the bun in his hand, and don’t take it.

MC: I wasn’t asking you to share it with me… Is half of it enough for you?

Shaw: There are other snacks in the bag. Also, I wasn’t that hungry to begin with.

MC: In that case… I won’t hold back!

I happily accept the meat bun. After taking a few bites, I release a contented sigh.

MC: So delicious!

Shaw: It is?

Shaw’s brows arch, and he looks at the meat bun in his hand.

Shaw: I think it’s average. It’s just a normal bun.

MC: This is something you don’t know. When you share food with someone, it becomes even more delicious.

I shoot him a confident smile.

After a pause, Shaw shrugs, not expressing an opinion.

Half of the bun is finished quickly. Shaw lifts up his Cola at the side, twisting off the bottle cap. Just before he drinks it, he pauses.

Shaw: Oh, I’ve won a prize.

His indifferent tone is mixed with a hint of satisfaction.

Leaning over to take a look, I discover that the words “One Free Bottle” is written on the bottle cap.

My heart stirs, and I excitedly lift up the Cola by my side.

MC: I’ll take a look too–

Shaw: How is it?

MC: …

Silently, I twist the bottle cap back, and take a bite out of my meat bun. A light chuckle drifts to my ears.

Shaw: Looks like it isn’t anything much.

MC: My luck isn’t good this time, that’s all.

I pout, rifling in the bag for a cheese hotdog.

Just when I open my mouth to eat it, Shaw suddenly leans over, giving it a bite.

Shaw: Mm, the taste isn’t bad.

MC: …didn’t you say you weren’t hungry?

Shaw: I’m just verifying what you said. Looks like it’s true - when you share food with someone, it does taste a little better.

The corners of Shaw’s lips curl upwards, a flash of triumph flashes across his eyes.

MC: …you’re just toying with me, aren’t you.

Shaw: You’re not wrong.

He smiles, tossing his head back as he downs the Cola. Then, he hands the bottle cap in his hand to me.

Shaw: Here.

MC: What do you want?

Shaw: I don’t know if sharing luck will help you become luckier. Test it out for me.

[ PART FOUR ]

Ghost masks on sale are hung on the dark red wall. The masks have a sense of antiquity to them, and their bewitching and bizarre appearances look utterly terrifying.

Simply standing at the entrance of the haunted house makes one feel deeply frightened. And the rule of “Only one person can enter at one time” causes several people to shrink away.

Shaw and MC: …

Shaw: Got the guts?

MC: What’s there to be afraid of?

Shaw: You first, or me?

MC: …I’ll go first.

With a solemn expression, I prepare to enter. However, my wrist is suddenly gripped by Shaw, and he pulls me back.

Shaw: Wait. I’ll give you something.

I can feel him stuffing something into my hand.

Unfurling my hand, I see a string of Buddhist prayer beads laying quietly in my palm.

MC: …

Shaw: Have a pleasant journey.

In the pitch-black and narrow pathway, I bite the bullet and move forward at a tortoise’s pace. My hands continuously twist the prayer beads, muttering to myself.

MC: Whether you’re a monster, demon, or ghost, don’t come and scare me, don’t come and scare me…

Thud–

Footsteps sound from behind me, and the hair on my body immediately stands on end.

I’m rooted to the spot. After a few seconds, when I muster the courage to turn around, a hand plops onto my left shoulder.

MC: !!!

At this moment, my blood seems to freeze.

I quietly wait for two seconds, but nothing happens. Suddenly, there’s a twinge of hope in my heart–

Maybe it’s Shaw!

Thinking of how he usually likes to play tricks on me, I become even more certain of my guess.

With a deep breath, I give myself some courage and turn my head.

MC: Shaw–

??: Fuu…….

MC: …

MC: IT’S A GHOST AHHHH–

With a speed which human eyes can’t capture, I huddle and curl into a corner, using my hand to cover my left ear, sensing goosebumps spreading across my entire body.

Along with my heartrending exclamation, a stream of chuckles resound at the same time.

??: It’s me.

Silvery white electricity appears in the darkness.

The person who’s speaking walks over to me. He squats down, a smile hanging on his lips, looking as though his prank has succeeded.

Shaw: Who was the one who made a solemn vow that she wouldn’t be scared?

I glare angrily at the person before me.

MC: I knew it was you! When you deliberately scare someone, of course they’d be scared! It’s an instinctive reaction. Also, you can scare someone to death, you know!

Weakly and helplessly, I hug myself tight. My voice is also trembling slightly.

He seems to be at a slight loss. After a while, he speaks.

Shaw: …fine, I was wrong this time.

Perhaps genuinely feeling apologetic, Shaw pauses, his voice also a little more gentle.

Shaw: Hey, want to know a way so you wouldn’t be scared?

MC: …what is it?

I lift my head from my knees in curiosity.

He offers me a hand, his eyes crinkling slightly, filled with a wilful light.

Shaw: Follow me and they won’t scare you.

Shaw and I hold hands as we continue down this cramped pathway.

Because he’s by my side, I feel much more composed.

Female ghost: I’m~ Filled~ With~ Hatred…

All of a sudden, a hand plops onto my shoulder. Shaw and I pause in our footsteps.

I subconsciously tighten my grip on Shaw’s hand. In the next moment, I feel him returning the gesture with a squeeze.

Courage fills my heart. With this, Shaw and I turn around together…

??: IT’S A GHOST AHHHH–

Another shrill cry fills the pathway.

This time, however, the cry doesn’t belong to me, but to the “female ghost” with dishevelled hair.

Shaw extinguishes the electricity in his hand. He removes the ghost masks we saw at the entrance earlier, and laughs.

Shaw: If you want to scare me, you’ve got to put in more practise.

[ PART FIVE ]

Just as I’m vexed on which attraction to head to next, the blare of a trumpet, followed by an announcement, can be heard in the park–

The “Bumper Boats” ride is holding a competition, and the winner will be awarded a surprise grand prize.

My curiosity is piqued, and I drag Shaw over.

At the venue, I discover that the way this bumper boat ride works is pretty similar to bumper cars. It’s just that the road is replaced with water, and there’s an additional tool – water guns.

I shoot Shaw an expectant gaze, and he purses his lips.

Shaw: I’m not playing. This is far too boring, and not exciting at all.

Looking at the electronic screen displaying the rankings, I continue attempting to persuade him.

MC: But the person in first place will win a surprise grand prize…

Shaw: So what? I never do boring things.

15 minutes later–

Shaw: Hey, you’re way too stupid.

Watching as Shaw holds the water gun and sprays it at me from the front, I can’t help but grumble internally – he was so unwilling just now, but ended up having more fun than anyone else.

With agile movements, I dodge that stream of water, then raise the water gun in my hand.

MC: You should watch out. I’m going to get serious now!

Shaw grins, a dazzling light flashing in his eyes.

Shaw: Bring it on.

As time trickles by, and because of how furiously we’re playing, our names on the board keep ascending the digital board.

But this also successfully stirs up the fighting spirit of others. Suddenly, we’re surrounded by opponents.

Just as I prepare to launch an attack on Shaw, the boat is struck violently by another boat. Unsteady, I find myself smacked against the steering wheel.

MC: Ahh–!

Shaw and I take a look, and see a younger man with permed hair waving his water gun at us teasingly.

Younger man: Come on! The first place belongs to me–!

Shaw: Tch, he dares to hit my person. He’s doomed.

Shaw furrows his brow, upset. He adjusts the steering wheel, turning around to look at me.

Shaw: I’m avenging you. Why are you in a daze? Catch up quickly.

MC: …who’s in a daze.

After saying this, I turn the steering wheel, stepping on the accelerator–

But my heart rate subconsciously speeds up.

With the blow of a whistle from the staff, the competition draws to an end.

Shaw and I break through, seizing the first and second places.

Staff: Congratulations to the both of you! You have both won the surprise grand prize of this competition! You’ll have the opportunity to have a group photo with this park’s auspicious “Flame Dragon”!

Shaw and I stand in front of the Flame Dragon statue. After a short silence, he suddenly speaks.

Shaw: Don’t you find it boring to take a photo like this?

MC: What idea do you have this time?

After staring at me for a while, he suddenly chuckles softly, lifting a corner of his lips.

Shaw: This time, let’s not show our ugliest expressions. Let’s do something more surprising.

I can’t help but be confused.

MC: “More surprising”?

After saying this, the staff’s voice can be heard.

Staff: Get ready for the photo. 3– 2– 1–

Before I can think, Shaw’s face suddenly looms closer–

I subconsciously stop breathing. It’s akin to a tiny firework blooming at the tip of my heart with a “pa”.

Ka cha–

With the sound of the shutter, this moment is captured forever.

Fireworks event: here

#this is just a re-post of the love carnival translations!#I'm doing some mild renovations to the blog so don't mind me!#the previous translations were split according to parts rather than love interest which I find really disjointed!

38 notes · View notes

yet-another-saberface · 4 years ago

Text

Interim Headcanons: Fuyuki -> Orleans

This is the first in what’ll be a series of story posts that are ‘Interims,’ or what takes place in between singularities! (Other than the eventual events.) They have less heavy story content but are still necessary because they do contain character stuff.

This one has a fic section roughly in the middle of the post! It’s around 1500 words & in the first person POV, which is actually what I’m most experienced with writing, so I hope everyone can enjoy that! There should be another short fic post coming out before I start on Orleans that’s less story and more slice of life stuff, but I’m still figuring out what exactly I want to do with that and had everything else done, so I decided to post it now!

We’re summoning some people, so get ready!

Between Fuyuki and the first real singularity, Eva practically refuses to have any downtime. She’s told that she should take it easy, let her leg heal, and wait for them to pinpoint the appropriate rayshift point. At some point they’ll help her set up the summoning circle for backup, but until then, she doesn’t need to be doing anything.

Instead of following those orders, Eva essentially ends up doing the work of multiple people herself. She hangs around the command room, usually standing the entire time, and will rush over to help anyone that seems to be having any difficulties. One of your numbers seems off? She’ll double-check it for you and if it’s correct she can explain exactly why. Tech isn’t working? Not her area of expertise but she’ll troubleshoot it until she can’t anymore, at which point she runs off to find Da Vinci. Something weird happening magically? You better bet she’s all over it and probably pushing you out of your workstation to handle it herself.

After a day or two, Roman notices what’s going on and takes her aside. She’s promptly banned from the command room unless someone asks for her to be there.

She tries to hide her disappointment… Which is surprisingly easy when the only emotion you can really convey at the moment is ‘tired?’ She heads back to her room, takes her boot off, and collapses onto her bed trying to figure out what else she should do, falling asleep in the process.

She wakes up around a full day later with a brilliant idea.

She’s gonna set up the summoning circle and perform the ritual herself. She forgets about the boot and immediately rushes off the Chaldea’s library with the intent of double-checking her memory.

She actually ends up spending a lot more time in the library than she intended when she finds out just how expansive it is. There’s all the books on magic she’s read before, along with literally everything else she could ever hope to find. This is how she finds herself filling a crate with somewhere upwards of 15 books and dragging it back to her room after leaving a note so people know who took them.

Mash catches her as she’s heading back with the books, glad to see that she seems less tired. When Mash offers to help with the books, Eva tries to say no, until Mash notices that she isn’t wearing her boot anymore.

“Senpai, did Doctor Roman say your ankle is okay now?” “Uh… Wait. Right. My ankle is injured. Still. Crap.”

It’s only then that she starts to notice how the pain is coming back from all the unsupported weight she’s been putting on the injury, and finally accepts Mash’s offer to help with the books. When they finally get them back to Eva’s room, Mash makes sure that Eva actually puts on the boot this time. Afterwards, Eva is posed with a question she’s not sure if she should answer.

“What are you planning on doing with all of these books?” A pause. “I was just going to refresh my memory! I’ve done a lot of research into servants and stuff in the past, but I’m not sure how much of it I actually remember…” “That’s a wonderful idea, Senpai! Do you mind if I borrow some of these?” “Oh… No, go ahead! Just uh… Not this one, I was gonna start here!” She conspicuously grabs the book on rituals.

She spends the rest of the day reading up on how summoning rituals work, and later that night, when the fewest people possible are awake, she sneaks off to the summoning room that was pointed out to her earlier…

I open the door to the summoning room to find darkness. It’s unexpected, unsettling. Darkness is not something easily found in Chaldea, where everything is lit up with screens and fluorescent lights. It’s fitting, I guess, that humanity’s last hope should be constantly illuminated. But if that’s the case… Then why is it here, of all places, that I find darkness? Doubt creeps into my mind, as it always does. Millions of questions spring from that first one, slowly weighing me down, and looming over me like a shadow. Is this really a good idea? Maybe there’s a reason they said I should wait for their help setting this- No. I can’t just not do it. I need to prove it. That I’m capable of being the Master that saves humanity. And this is the first step. The light from the hallway illuminates just a bit of the room, but it’s enough that I can see that a circle has indeed already been drawn on the floor. Good. Now I just need to take care of… Everything else. I feel around on the walls by the door for a light panel until I finally knock my hand against it. The room lights up in blues and whites, unlike anything else in the facility, leaving me in awe. This is definitely the place to be doing magecraft. Glancing around a bit more, the room appears to be empty… With one exception. Tucked into the back right hand corner, there’s a small stack of white crates. Okay, then. Let’s start there. I make my way around the edge of the circle that takes up most of the room, ducking my head a few times as I try not to disturb any of the floating bands of light throughout the room. I don’t know exactly what they are, but I can’t afford to take any risks. When I reach the boxes, and carefully remove the lid of the top one to find it full of prism-like stones, each one containing every possible color. They’re big enough that I can only fit one in the palm of each hand, and are lighter than I expect. I set the one I’d been holding back down in the box, rummaging for the book I’d stuffed into my pocket before coming over here. I skim through the pages for just a second before landing on the one I’d marked earlier. Stones, stones… Gems, maybe? Why are these here? I’m halfway down the page when it hits me. They’re probably catalysts. I have no idea if they’re meant to summon anyone in particular, but there’s little chance they’re anything else. Summoning’s supposed to be easier with a catalyst, right? There’s several boxes of these… Surely using a few wouldn’t be noticed. And besides, most catalysts stick around even once the summoning is complete. Most of them. Hopefully that’s how these work. Given that I’m unsure what exactly they are, I grab 3 just to be safe after setting my book down on the floor. With one in each hand and a third tucked against my chest by my upper arm, I carefully inch a toe into the summoning circle. Nothing happens. …Okay then. It’s probably not activated yet. That’s good. I set the stones down in the very center, one at a time, so that they’re arranged in a triangle formation, before walking out of the circle as quick as I can. Still, nothing happens. Good. No surprises. I put the lid back on the box, grab the book, and then walk back around to close the door for good measure. Something tells me I don’t want anyone walking in on this. Circle, catalyst, mage… There’s no way this is as easy as it seems, is there? There’s gotta be a catch to it. But… If there is one, it’s definitely not mentioned at all. So all I can do is hope that what works in theory works in reality, like always. So I set my book down and stand my ground in front of the door, facing the circle. Don’t screw up the incantation. Remember how you changed it. Remember your theory. This is all gonna work out just how it’s supposed to. I take a deep breath. I blink. And before I speak, I picture it in my head. A drop of ink hitting paper, spreading a deep blue color across the white page. With that, I can feel the familiar hum and warmth of magic circuits spread through my body, giving me focus. I can do this.

“Let silver and steel be the essence. Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation. Let my own hope and faith in humanity be what allows it. Let a wall rise against the wind that shall fall. Let the four cardinal gates close. Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the kingdom rotate. Know this; I am all the good remaining in the world. I stand against all the evil threatening our world. And it is I that shall come to have dominion over that evil. Heroic Spirit, attended to by the three great words of power, Come forth from the right of restraint, keeper of the balance!”

As I progress through the lines of the chant, I can feel more and more magical energy building up in my body, desperately trying to be released. But that heat, that feeling of everything building up, cannot compare to what happens as I end the spell. All of the energy is pulled from my body at once. I can feel each and every individual nerve fighting against it, to no avail. It’s like my heart has stopped beating, yet is also beating too fast. I’m hit with a sudden migraine, yet the next second, it seems like it was never there in the first place. And all the while, I’m forced to close my eyes because the room, once dimly lit, is now full of a blinding white. And while they’re closed, images flash through my mind. Fire. Death. A silhouette, unidentifiable. And finally the back of a boy, my age, in a Chaldea uniform, standing at the ready. I hear something incredibly loud, some sort of boom, though maybe that’s not the best way to describe it, followed by a much quieter cracking noise, as the light behind my eyelids fades away. My hearing starts to recover, but I’m scared to open my eyes. I have no idea what just happened. Did it work? Was all of that meant to happen? The book hadn’t mentioned any of that. So I stand there, listening and breathing. Hoping against hope that everything is okay. Until I hear someone speak. “I ask of you, are you my Master?”

As I finally open my eyes, another girl stands before me in the center of the circle. The stones are gone. (Dammit.) As she looks at me expectantly, her green eyes seem to see right through me. I can’t tell if I’m being judged or not. But as I take in the rest of her, I do my best to offer a response, however quietly. “Yeah. I… I’m your Master.” It’s barely more than a whisper, riding along a shaky breath. So much for seeming confident. We stand in silence for a few more seconds as I catch my breath. It worked. It really worked. That’s a Servant. Right there. In front of me. That I summoned. This time when I look at her, I begin to notice things without trying beyond her physical appearance. For starters, she’s a Saber. Wait a- That’s not any Saber. That’s. “You’re King Arthur.” “That… Is correct, Master,” she replies, showing slight confusion. “Holy… Okay. Um.” As I’m pausing to take a breath, the door behind me slams open. I jump a bit, and when I land, pain shoots through my leg. My boot broke during the ritual. I glance behind me to find Mash, Roman, Da Vinci, and a few other staff members staring. “Senpai, what did you-” “IsummonedaServant,” I blurt out, trying to shift as much weight off my right foot as possible. When everyone keeps staring, I add on a halfhearted “...Sorry?” There’s a collective sigh from the group, none of whom really seem to know what to do. “You do realize we told you to wait, right?” Roman asks. “Yes, but I thought I could handle it, because I’ve studied this a lot, and clearly I can handle it, because it worked, so-” “Chaldea actually has an alternate summoning system-” Da Vinci starts, but I cut her off. “...Oh. Of course! That… Makes a lot of sense now.” I find myself looking towards the ground. “Why’d I go and do this?” I add at the last second, quieter than the rest. “Don’t worry, this is nothing I can’t handle!” Da Vinci responds. “Just make sure to let us know before you summon anyone again, okay?” “Okay,” I respond, still quiet. When no one else says anything, Roman speaks up again. “All right then, everyone else should get back to what they were doing.” He glances at the leg the boot had broke off of, even more worried than before. “Mash and…” “Saber,” the other Servant answers. “Right. Mash, Saber, can you help Eva to the infirmary for now?” The two of them nod before stepping over to me and adjusting so that each of my arms is over one of their shoulders. I cringe a bit when I have to adjust my right leg, and soreness is slowly starting to spread through the rest of my body. This idea is continually turning out to have been way worse than I thought it would be.

So, as it turns out, Eva continually doing things that put strain on her injury has set back the healing process, and even when it does heal, it’s likely still going to be weaker than it was. She won't need a cane or anything, but she should still be wary of it and avoid relying on her right leg too heavily from now on. Running and other simple physical activity is fine, but should she need to say, kick something, she should absolutely favor her left leg unless she’s made the necessary precautions and given her right ankle the support it needs to prevent more injuries.

They get her a new boot and she’s essentially grounded for 2 days, not allowed to leave her room. They also start cutting the lights in her room on a schedule for as long as she’s grounded so that she’s forced to sleep.

She emerges, somehow, both less tired and more grumpy. Everyone catches on pretty quickly that she’s getting antsy because she’s not allowed to do anything, so they decide to set up the summoning system and let her try out a summoning that won’t make her injuries worse.

She’s initially hesitant to try any summonings with the more tech-heavy system, but she eventually agrees to go ahead with it after Da Vinci spends over an hour explaining every intricacy of how it works and how it differs from normal summoning. It’ll work, according to magical theory, so she doesn’t have anything to lose by trying it out.

This time, instead of just a single servant, she actually manages to summon several, those being Medusa, Caster Cú, Archer Emiya, and Saber Alter.

The tension between the 2 Sabers is pretty obvious, so Eva does her best to make sure that they aren’t forced to interact much while still spending time with and attempting to understand each of them. Since they’re both pretty reserved, it’s a slow process, but at least she figures out pretty quickly that they both really love food.

Cú is still salty that he’s not a Lancer, but is still glad to have at least been summoned again. He’s actually rather surprised by just how much Eva immediately puts value in him. She starts carrying a notebook around with her, and will write in it whenever she notices something new about Runes she didn’t know before. He actually tries to help her use Runes at one point, but it ends up blowing up in both their faces because Eva was focusing more on her anxiety than on the effect she wanted to achieve.

Eva knew literally nothing about Emiya, so more than pretty much every other Servant that’s around, she tries to seem professional around him. That completely collapses when he catches her in the kitchen at 3 in the morning halfheartedly making grilled cheese. From then on she’s a lot more casual and every once in a while she pesters him incessantly about Reality Marbles. She’ll probably eventually figure out that he knows more about the Sabers than he lets on.

Medusa actually surprised Eva a bit. While Eva knows a lot about her from mythology, it took awhile for her to figure out anything about her as a Servant, other than what she could discern from practice battles. The first real bit of progress she makes is when she finds Medusa reading in the library. Now they just kinda have one of those “sit and read in silence together” type friendships.

Eva isn’t exactly all hyped up for whenever the next singularity is identified, but she promises herself that she won’t be scared to go and do whatever’s needed in order to correct it. After all, she has more allies this time, and it seems like her magecraft is getting better by the day. Now all that’s left is to save humanity.

New Servant Log:

Artoria Pendragon (Saber)

Artoria Pendragon (Alter)

Cú Chulainn (Caster)

Emiya (Archer)

Medusa (Rider)

I actually have an excuse to tag people and that makes me happy

@contractgreen @panyum @withanina @campanulabell @delfinaschiffer @princessaslan @armageddon25 @patproductions @xviicprc

42 notes · View notes

hookedonapirate · 4 years ago

Text

Beyond a Reasonable Doubt

Summary: Detective Killian Jones took an indefinite leave of absence from SBPD after his brother was murdered in the Line of Duty. Bitter and broken, he resides in a cabin on the beach when his brother's former partner, David Nolan brings him a case he knows the vengeful detective won’t be able to resist. A case involving Liam's killer.

Dr. Emma Swan makes all of her decisions like she operates on her patients—with care, competence and compassion. But when her colleague, Graham Humbert, is murdered in cold blood by the man who was freed because of a decision she made as a juror, she starts second-guessing herself. To make matters worse, her squeaky clean reputation is being questioned when she becomes a suspect for Graham’s murder.

There is one detective who believes she’s innocent, and he has a plan to protect Emma and find his brother's killer at the same time. When Killian finds himself caught between his duties to the SBPD and his need for vengeance, matters are only complicated by the feelings he develops for the woman he's supposed to protect.

He's impulsive and hot-tempered, and she's methodical and cool under pressure. Despite their differences, can they work together to bring the murderer to justice, or will the murderer get to them first?

A/N: Many thanks go to @ultraluckycatnd for her wonderful beta-ing skills and @onceuponaprincessworld as always for her encouragement and letting me bounce ideas off of her.

Posting this a day early because it's my day off. I have the next chapter done, and in the meantime, I'll be working on The Princess and Her Sultan for those who have been patiently waiting and because I miss writing for that universe.

I have to warn you, this chapter is a bit absurd lol, but it's fun, I promise. And the end of the chapter will give you a hint for what's to come in the next chapter.

Rated: Explicit due to mature language, character death, violence, murder and smut. The scenes won’t be too graphic, but I’d rather overrate than underrate it.

Catch up: Pro I Ch 1 I Ch 2 I Ch 3 I Ch 4

Also available on: AO3 I FF.N

Chapter 6

Hans forces a tight smile on his face and hesitantly shakes Killian’s hand, obviously embarrassed he’d invited her to his hotel room. His features contort in pain as if Killian is gripping his hand a little too tightly.

Killian loosens his grip, apology flickering over his face. “Sorry, mate, sometimes I forget my own strength. I once tapped a bloke in the nose and broke several of his nasal bones.”

Unmistakable fear shows in Hans’ eyes and he quickly rips his hand from Killian’s tight clutch and spins around on his stool, returning to his drink and chugs it down.

Emma is still recovering from the initial shock of Killian coming over to… what, rescue her? Or stake his claim even though she’s not his to claim? She’s not entirely sure, but she plays along, flashing a sarcastic smile. “These heels are killing my feet. I had to sit down.”

Killian moves behind her and places both hands on her shoulders, squeezing gently as he sweetly kisses her temple. Her entire skin warms from his touch. “Well, how about I give you a good foot rub when we get home, hmm?” he murmurs in her ear loud enough for Hans to hear as Killian kneads his fingers into her shoulders.

Emma has to swallow the moan rising in her throat as his decadent, silky voice penetrates her ear and his firm hands give her a momentary dose of heaven.

Holy fuck.

He’s not even doing anything to her, and she’s completely turned on. She’s not imagining his hands on her achy feet, giving her a good, thorough rubdown. Certainly not. “Mmmm, that sounds amazing, babe.”

He grins against her earlobe, causing a shiver to skate down her spine. When he removes his hands from her shoulders and extends one to her, she feels the loss of his warmth. “Until then, are your feet rested enough to dance?”

Emma slips her hand in his, interlaces their fingers and stands up, grinning from ear to ear. “I thought you'd never ask. Lead the way.”

She looks over at Hans to catch his reaction as they walk past him, holding hands. Even from behind, she can tell he’s sulking.

When she realizes Killian is actually leading her to the dance floor, panic rises in her chest, and she tugs on his hand to stop him. “Wait, are we actually dancing?”

Killian turns his head around to look past her and nods. “Aye, love. Hans still has his eyes on us.” His jaw twitches as he shoots daggers at him. “Or rather, his eyes are still on you. So it’s best we keep up the ruse.” He moves again, pulling her through the crowd.

“But I don’t know how to dance,” she confesses, slightly ashamed. Her cousins took dance classes when they were younger and loved dancing but Emma mostly stuck to her books and simply listened to music rather than danced to it.

When they reach an appropriate spot on the dance floor, Killian stops and pulls her to him, placing her free hand on his shoulder and his open palm on her back. “There’s only one rule, love.” His eyes lift from their joined hands, and a breath escapes her when his face is only inches away, those baby blues boring into hers. “Pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

Emma’s heart flutters as their bodies are pressed closely together. A hint of a smile curves her lips as she follows his lead, and soon they’re moving with the rhythm of the music like they’re at a fancy royal ball. But somehow she manages to replace her smile with a small scowl. “I didn’t need a dashing rescue, you know. I can take care of myself.”

He smirks knowingly. “I don’t doubt that, love, but I was saving you from getting scolded by the bride for causing a scene at her wedding.”

Emma wrinkles her brows in confusion. “Causing a scene? What scene?”

“Oh, come on, Emma, you were about two seconds away from giving that bloke a bloody nose.”

“I was not,” she argues defensively.

He lifts both brows. “Oh really? Because it sounded like he was inviting you back to his hotel room. If I were you, I would’ve kicked him in the bollocks.”

“With the way you were staring at him and had that death grip on his hand, I’m surprised you didn’t. Talk about causing a scene,” she scoffs. “By the way, a nose only has two bones, not several.”

“I know that, but judging by the scared shitless look on his face, he either didn’t know or didn't care,” Killian chuckles.

She tilts her head slightly, narrowing her eyes at him. “You weren’t jealous of him, were you?”

He almost laughs. “Jealous of that wanker? In order to be jealous, I’d have to be threatened by him. But he’s not capable of snagging someone of your caliber.”

Emma’s eyes widen in bemusement. “Someone of my caliber? And what caliber might that be?”

“I told you, love, you’re the prettiest surgeon I’ve ever met.” He leans closer to whisper in her ear. “And you cut quite the figure in that dress.”

Her face flushes as she cocks a brow. “So you’re saying you are capable?”

Blush paints his cheeks, his lips giving into a smirk. “A man can dream, can’t he?”

She doesn’t comment, and instead just stares into his eyes, which she’s beginning to think is a monumental mistake because she soon gets lost in those forget-me-not blues. Everything else around them disappears as they move across the dance floor, and all she can see is this gorgeous man who seems to be just as intrigued by her as she is by him. “Thank you,” she manages in a breathy whisper, her eyes still locked with his.

His pointy ears actually perk up. “What was that? I don’t believe I heard you right because it sounded like you were actually thanking me instead of yelling at me.”

She laughs. “That's because I was. You were right, I was two seconds from either punching Hans in the nose or giving him a swift kick in the balls. So thank you for stepping in... and for saving me from that asshole.”

He chuckles and lifts his hand to stroke her cheek. “You’re very welcome, love.”

The song ends, and the DJ plays something slow, but Emma has to admit she’s not ready to let him go yet. And she can tell he feels the same. It’s written all over his face. Which is confirmed when he releases her hand and wraps both arms around her waist. She curls her hands around the back of his neck and is so close to him, she can feel his heart beating against hers. She has to admit, he is very charming. Any woman would be a fool not to notice. Guilt stabs her when she recalls the mean things she’d said to him earlier, which definitely weren’t true. “I’m sorry for what I said before about a woman having to be either naive or desperate to fall for your charm.”

To that, he pulls back slightly, astounded by her apology. Then his brows furrow. “Did the bartender spike your drink?”

She giggles in his arms. “No, it was just… it was harsh… what I said.”

He smiles warmly. “No need to apologize. I came onto you a little too strongly.”

She scoffs playfully. “A little?”

He blushes, his smile widening. “Okay, a lot too strongly.”

“Not as strongly as Hans,” she points out.

“That’s true. Now there’s a guy you’d have to be either naïve and desperate to date.”

Emma nods in wholehearted agreement.

Killian breaks their trance to look over her shoulder. He smirks and whispers in her ear. “Don’t look now but we have an audience.”

Emma glances behind her, seeing Anna, Elsa and Ingrid staring at them and smiling, obviously enjoying the show; they might as well be watching a rom-com while munching on popcorn from one of those giant movie theater tubs.

“I told you not to look,” he chuckles.

She turns her head to face him again and laughs. “I’m glad we could entertain them.”

“Aye. It’s not even our wedding and yet we seem to be the stars of the show for the moment.”

She nods and stares at him for a moment, trying to figure out how they hadn’t met before. She’s heard about him, and he used to live in the same town as her, but somehow they had never crossed paths.

“What, love?” he inquires, noticing her staring at him thoughtfully.

She shakes her head. “Nothing, you’re just… you’re a mystery to me. I can’t figure you out.”

He cocks a brow, intrigued by her statement. “Why do you say that?”

“Because you act all cocky and smug, yet the way you were dancing with Camila was…”

“Was what?” he asks when she doesn’t finish her sentence.

“It was freaking adorable,” she admits with a smile. “You weren’t trying to impress anyone, you were just being you.”

He shrugs. “I’m good with kids. What about you, love?”

“What about me?”

“You seem so confident in your own skin, yet I look into your eyes and see someone who’s emotionally armored. Like you’re trying to protect yourself from something. Perhaps someone?”

“Oh really? You can see that about me?” she asks with an amused grin.

“You’re somewhat of an open book,” he says with a confident smirk.

“Or maybe you’ve just heard my back story.”

He chuckles. “You caught me.” Killian takes her hands and steps back, spinning her around and dipping her. She loses a breath as she looks up into his eyes. “I’ve heard we’re opposites, but we’re actually not so different, you and I.” He brings her back up and draws her into his arms again.

“Oh? And how’s that?”

“I grew up without parents as well.”

Emma’s heart tightens when his eyes darken with sorrow. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she says sincerely. “But how does that make us similar?”

“Because we both know far too much what it’s like to be alone.”

She knows he’s not only referring to losing his parents but also his brother. She wants to argue and tell him she’s not alone, but who is she kidding? She lost one of her few friends, and the only guy who’s confessed his affection for her is a psychotic killer. Well, she can’t say he’s the only guy because while Killian hasn’t announced he has a crush on her through an anonymous card, she can see how attracted he is to her. She can see it in his eyes. In fact, she wonders if she laid one on him, would he kiss her back?

Emma’s eyes fall to his lips as she ponders the thought. Her gaze flickers back to his, and she loses a breath when she catches him staring at her lips. She wonders what his mouth tastes like, wonders what it would hurt if she kissed him just once. Her eyes return to his mouth and she leans in, aching to feel those pretty lips pressed against hers.

A drum roll draws their attention to the center of the room, and they separate, looking to see what’s going on. They were so lost in their own little world and forgot they were at a wedding.

Anna prepares to toss her bouquet to a group of eager bachelorettes who shout and jostle for the best position to catch it. Emma wants no part in the bouquet toss, but Elsa seems to disagree when she grabs Emma’s hand and pulls her toward the group.

“Come on, Em, you’re single too!”

When Elsa releases her hand, Emma slinks to the back of the group and can’t wait for this to be over with. She looks over at Killian who’s gazing back at her longingly, and she can’t believe she almost kissed him. Well, she can—he’s fucking gorgeous—but at her cousin’s wedding? In front of all the guests? What was she thinking?

Anna tosses the bouquet behind her, and all the bachelorettes—except for Emma—spring for it. But Anna's throw is much stronger than expected and the bouquet goes far above their heads, aiming directly at Emma, and ends up in her hands after she instinctively catches it.

Damn it.

Emma holds it up, forcing a smile as the other ladies scream in excitement. She glances at Killian, who is laughing with Kristoff and drinking a glass of what she assumes is rum based on the color and what he'd ordered prior. Her eyes move to Anna who squeezes her into a hug.

Next, a chair is placed in the center of the room and the single men are called to gather around as Anna sits down, grinning from ear to ear. Emma stands off to the side, her eyes dancing between Killian and the newlyweds. Suddenly she’s nervous again, her heart pounding erratically against her breastbone, and she forces herself to look away from him to give her attention to the bride and groom.

Kristoff gets on all fours and pushes back Anna's skirt, his hand moving up her leg before his head disappears under her dress. Anna is squealing and blushing profusely, the crowd erupting with giggles and chants of encouragement. In a quick motion, Kristoff is out from under her skirts, his teeth pulling the frilly white garter down her leg and over her heel. When he stands up, he slingshots the garter over his shoulder toward the bachelors, and while the men aren’t as enthusiastic as the ladies were, Hans springs for it.

But when he misses it and falls to the floor, the man behind him—who of course happens to be Killian—lifts the garter into the air, grinning like an idiot as everyone cheers. His eyes find Emma’s through the crowd and he tosses her a wink as he twirls the garter belt around his finger. She responds with an eye roll and smiles at him, her cheeks warming with blush.

The next thing she knows, Emma is being prompted to sit on the chair as she holds onto the bouquet, and Killian still has that stupid grin on his face as he makes his way to her, holding up the garter belt. Emma bites her bottom lip, anticipation coiled in her gut.

The DJ plays Pour Some Sugar On Me as Killian circles around her like an animal circling its prey, eagerly awaiting its meal. When he’s behind her, he bends over to whisper in her ear. “I have to warn you, love, I’m a biter, too.”

Emma gulps, quite certain she knows his meaning.

Killian appears in front of her, and as he kneels on the floor, she extends her right foot to him, her heart suddenly pounding in her ear. She’s relieved when he uses his hands to pull it over her stiletto, and her skin tingles when she feels his fingertips on her ankle. Then he steals the air from her lungs when he gets on all fours, takes the lace of the garter between his teeth and starts dragging it up her leg with his mouth. Emma’s cheeks are on fire so she briefly buries her face in her hands, laughing in embarrassment as everyone whistles and screams and snaps photos. But the sounds and flashing lights are quickly drowned out because the man who’s moving up her leg with his lips and warm breath brushing her skin demands all of her attention.

Fuck.

She clenches her thighs together, trying not to envision his face in her lap for other reasons. He gets the garter belt past her knee, but then it gets snagged by her dress. So, with both hands, he pushes up the offending material and moves his face to the side of her outer thigh for a better angle, his hand brushing her other leg as he brings it back to the floor to use only his mouth again. She can’t imagine what this might look like to the guests. Well, she can, and she hopes the young ones aren’t watching. She can’t seem to take her eyes off Killian’s to check though.

The garter gets caught again, so he lifts her dress once more using his hands. His face inches closer to where she is definitely imagining him to be right now and with one final drag, he gets the garter where he wants it—mid-thigh—and backs away, taking all of his warmth and intoxicating scent with him. All the men are cheering for him, and he grins and blushes, his eyes locked with hers.

~*~

Killian hadn't meant to take it that far. When he caught the garter belt, he hadn’t planned on using his teeth—he was certainly envisioning it—but he knew it was definitely too much. If he weren’t working on the case and if she weren’t a suspect, and they were just two guests at the wedding, he would still be intrigued by her. He would still be attracted to her. And yes, then he wouldn’t have thought twice about using his teeth. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. But when she sat in the chair, biting her bottom lip, her eyes glinting with anticipation as she gazed over at him, he almost lost himself and consequently threw all rational thinking out the window.

When he’d whispered in her ear, he’d seen her flush and heard her gasp. When he’d knelt down in front of her, he’d witnessed those luminous green eyes sparkle, those pupils dilate as she offered her foot to him. He could feel the heat radiating off of her. And he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist using his mouth to drag that dainty piece of lace up her leg. Every inch of her was so extremely sexy, even her unpainted toenails were sexy, he had to use all the willpower in him to not touch her. And when he accidentally grazed his hand over her leg after he’d pushed the skirt of her dress out of the way, his heart rate sped up. But somehow he’d managed to place the garter belt around her thigh without completely molesting her.

The first part of his plan had been to crack open her shell, make her feel more comfortable with him, and now he’s afraid he’s screwed that up. And David of course was quick to point that out. While Emma was surrounded by her cousins and other females, probably commenting on Killian’s performance, David was pulling him outside and giving him an earful about how he should’ve let someone else catch the garter belt and how he definitely shouldn’t have used his mouth. David was so furious, Killian was sure he would send him back to Port Lavaca, but Killian assured him his behavior wouldn’t affect the second part of his plan. In fact, it would probably make it even more possible. David muttered a “You better hope so,” before storming back inside, pouting.

Killian downs his fourth glass of apple juice as he gazes across the room, his eyes connecting with hers. She blushes and looks away as she’s chatting with Elsa. He’s pretty sure they’re talking about him if the way they keep glancing over his way is any indication. He would definitely put his money on it.

~*~

“Okay, spill it, Emma. And don’t leave anything out,” Anna encourages with a big, toothy grin, her eyes glinting with intrigue.

Emma's eyebrows furrow. “Spill what?”

“Don't play dumb with me, you know exactly what I’m talking about.” She looks across the room, and Emma follows her gaze, seeing Killian on the other end of it as he's drinking another glass of rum.

“You mean, Killian? What about him?”

Anna sighs dramatically and looks like she's about to burst.

“Is it true, you two are a couple?”

That question was from Elsa, who's just as eager as her sister to expunge the juicy details. Well, maybe not quite as eager, but still very interested.

“No, of course not,” Emma answers, her eyes wide with shock. “We just met.”

Anna’s eyebrows are knitted in confusion. “But my husband said Killian was your boyfriend.” Anna blushes and giggles. “Oh my God, it feels good to finally be able to call him that! My husband, I mean,” she clarifies, as though they didn’t already know who she meant. “But back to Killian, why did Hans yell at my husband for not telling him you were already taken?”

Emma frowns at the mention of that creep. “Oh that. Killian told him he was my boyfriend because he saw Hans making me uncomfortable. He was trying to save me from punching Hans in the face and ruining your wedding.”

“Awwwww, that’s so sweet,” both cousins gush.

“By the way, who invited Hans?” Emma demands sharply. “He invited me to his hotel room, and before that, I made it very clear I didn't even want to engage in conversation with him.”

Anna’s eyes go wild. “He did what?!” she gasps. “Oh no, that is not okay. I told Kristoff we never should have invited him.” Fueled with anger, she spins around, lifts her skirts from the floor and marches over to Kristoff, who’s chatting with the groomsmen.

“Anna, wait, I don’t want to make a big deal about it,” Emma calls after her, but her auburn-haired cousin ignores her and continues her trek. Emma sighs and turns to look at Elsa who’s always been the calm, rational one of the two sisters. At any rate, she can’t say she’d be sad to see Hans kicked out.

“I’m so sorry about Hans. He’s such a creep,” Elsa comments before sipping her punch.

Emma dismisses Elsa’s words with a wave of her hand. “It’s fine. I can handle myself.”

“I know you can.” A slow smirk pulls at her lips. “So tell me, what exactly is going on with you and Killian? And don’t you dare say 'nothing'. He just used his mouth to get the garter belt on you when he could’ve easily used his hands. And you were…”

“I was what?” Emma asks, trying to contain the smile threatening her lips.

“You were pretty into it,” she teases, swatting Emma's shoulder.

Emma rolls her eyes. “Okay, maybe he's a little cute, but as I said, we just met. I know nothing about him, except that he’s cocky and a compulsive flirt.”

Elsa nods in agreement. “You’re not wrong about that, he can be cocky but in a charming, boyish sort of way. And yes, he can be a bit of a flirt, but he’s mostly bark and no bite.” She laughs at her own remark. “Okay, well as we all saw, he is a little bit of a biter.”

Emma flushes at the comment and wonders if he’s a biter in the sack because she definitely wouldn’t mind it if he were. Not that she plans on getting him in the sack. Because she definitely doesn't. She snaps her eyes shut briefly, chastising herself for having those thoughts.

“But don’t worry, I won’t badger you about him.”

“Thank you,” Emma murmurs before imbibing her water. She thinks about it for a moment though. Elsa knows Killian pretty well, so this might be an opportunity to find out whether she's wasting her time on him or not. She wants to say she’s not even considering the possibility of dating him, or anyone for that matter, but Elsa can easily squash any or all of Emma’s musings about the man. “So, tell me…” Emma gnaws on her bottom lip, deciding on the right question.

Based on Elsa's knowing smile, she seems to be onto her. “Yes?”

“Is Killian a good guy? I mean honestly? You know I don’t date because I have my trust issues. So am I just wasting my time by lowering my guard around him or—”

“He’s a great guy, Emma. I promise. I wouldn’t lie to you about that. I’ve spent some time with him, and we were pretty close before Liam died. He can be a little rough around the edges and hot-headed at times, but he’s honest, has a good heart and can be very sweet. We had a rough patch for a while but now I hope we can be close again. And I know it’s difficult for you to open up, Emma, but you can’t keep people out forever. Besides when is the last time you’ve gone on a date and just had some good old-fashioned fun? You work so damn much, I bet you can’t even remember.”

Guilt rises in Emma’s cheeks, and she nods, considering Elsa’s words. “You’re right. It’s been far too long since I've been with a guy. But he hasn’t even asked me out. How do I know he’s even interested?” She already knows how ridiculous the question sounds when she asks it.

Elsa lifts a brow that says, really, Emma? “With the way he was dancing with you, giving you those doe eyes and the way he put that garter belt on you, do you really need any more proof that he’s completely into you?”

Emma sighs. “But how do I know he doesn't act like that around every woman he meets?”

“He doesn't, only with women he's interested in. And that's rare for him. He caught the garter at mine and Liam’s wedding, but he didn’t use his teeth, and the bachelorette was much more flirty than he is with you. It was more of an obligation for him then,” Elsa ends the statement with a smirk. “But with you, I could tell—hell everyone in the room could tell he was into you.”

Emma laughs, her cheeks flooding with blush. “Okay, okay, I get your point. So... I should just ask him out then?”

Elsa’s face lights up in excitement. “Yes, you should!”

Emma inhales a deep breath, her heart pounding at the possibility of approaching him. She doesn’t really have a plan yet, but maybe it’s better to just wing it. No, on second thought, she has to have a plan. “Women can ask men out, right?”

“Are you kidding? Yes, they can! Go for it, Em,” she chants encouragingly.

Okay, here goes nothing.

Emma turns around and straightens her shoulders, determined to march over to Killian. Instead, she freezes, her eyes widening in surprise when he’s standing in front of her with a drink in his hand. His hair is carelessly disheveled, his eyes are a dull shade of blue and he’s still wearing his jacket, but his tie is hanging loosely around his neck and his dress shirt is halfway unbuttoned, allowing a patch of dark chest hair to poke out. He's obviously been drinking a little too much. But he still looks delicious.

“Hi there, love,” he greets with a smirk, his words slurred. He stumbles forward and Emma grabs onto him and catches a whiff of him. Okay, he’s been drinking way too much.

Her eyes sting from the smell of rum as she helps over to the nearest chair. “Easy tiger, I think you’ve had too much to drink.” As she helps him sit in the chair, she glances at Elsa, her cousin’s features donning a mixture of concern and apology.

“He doesn’t normally drink this much.”

Emma looks around, seeing the kids on the other side of the room playing and running around.

“We should probably get him home. I don’t want Camila or his nephews to see him like this,” Elsa says in a worried tone.

“I’m fine, really.” Killian lazily waves off her words and tries to stand, but almost falls over again before Elsa and Emma catch him.

“I guess I should take him home. Will you watch Camila while I’m gone?” Elsa asks her.

“Why don’t I just take him?” Emma suggests. “You should stay and spend time with your sister before she goes off on her honeymoon.”

“But you don’t have your car with you,” Elsa points out.

“Did he drive here himself?”

“Yeah, he came in his truck.”

“Okay, so I can just drive him home in his vehicle and catch an Uber home. Where’s he staying?”

Elsa shakes her head. “I’m not sure. A motel I think.”

Emma kneels in front of him like she’s speaking to a child. “Where are you staying, Killian?”

“Wherever you want me to stay,” he drawls with a cheeky grin.

Emma rolls her eyes and reaches into the inside of his suit jacket, searching for his wallet.

He smirks. “If you wanted to feel me up, all you had to do was ask.”

Emma can’t help but blush, his face inches from hers as she grabs his wallet. God, he’s wasted. Rifling through his wallet, she finds a key card from Pinn Road Inn, which is on the other side of town.

She informs Ingrid what’s going on, and after she hugs the newlyweds and wishes them a fantastic honeymoon, she and Elsa help Killian to his truck and buckle him up in the passenger seat. Elsa apologizes profusely as though she’s responsible for her brother-in-law, but Emma waves off her words and hugs her goodbye. She promises to have lunch with her and Anna after the honeymoon and climbs into the truck.

The drive to the motel is mostly silent until Killian suddenly starts cursing like a sailor. She looks over to see him pulling at a thread that's hanging from the cuff of his jacket.

“Don’t pull at it, you’ll ruin the jacket,” Emma warns, returning her eyes to the road. “Just take it back to the haberdashery you got it from.”

“Royal tuxedos, my arse. More like royal crap,” he bleats, reclining in his seat to reach into his pants pocket.

Too late.

Glancing over at him, she sees him using a Stanely knife to cut off the string. Her eyes widen in horror. “Don't do that, you'll—”

Killian’s groaning in pain, his left hand is covered in blood and the blood is dripping all over his suit.

“...cut yourself,” she finishes with a sigh.

A/N: So you probably have a lot of questions about what exactly is up Killian's sleeve, but I promise that will be covered in the next chapter. And yes, I couldn't make either Emma or Killian a doctor without injuring the other one at least once and having some doctor/patient scenes. I promise Killian will be in good hands though :-)

@itsfabianadocarmo @snowbellewells @ilovemesomekillianjones @nikkiemms @teamhook @xhookswenchx @xsajx @julesep3026 @hookedmom @biefaless @cluttermind @yasbio2015 @kmomof4 @lfh1226-linda @harshini01 @noensnaringnet @xarandomdreamx @onceuponaprincessworld @annastasiarinaldiva @royalswan @brustudyblog @officerrogers @gingerchangeling @melly326 @singersdd @mzbossyboots @unworried-corsair @iamemmaswanjones @authorarsinoe @kingofmyheart14 @nightskylover @jamif @resident-of-storybrooke @iam2307 @winterbaby89 @chinawoodfan @mormonkryptonite @ultraluckycatnd @captainswan-shipper88 @killianswanjones @bethdacattfm @andiirivera

#cs ff #captain swan #beyond a reasonable doubt #my fic

48 notes · View notes

chalantness · 4 years ago

Text

fic: Here, On the Edge of Hell (6/6)

Rating: M Word Count: ~14,300 (part six) Characters: Steve/Natasha Summary: mafia au. She knows her father hadn’t been lying when he said that Uncle Howard wanted her to keep an eye on Steve, but if this was simply about protection, he wouldn’t have put her on the line at all. Especially not with all of the heat Steve Rogers is getting from the other Families, which means that her uncle has another reason for Natasha to be involved.

He just won’t tell her what it is.

Read On: [ ao3 ]

A/N: I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S FINALLY HERE! The last part of the mafia 'verse!!

I initially thought this was going to take me 1-1.5 months tops to finish, but in true Chanty fashion, it took twice that long... three months later, and we're finally at the end! I'm excited and a little nervous to get to the big reveals, and I'm warning you now that this is my first genuine attempt at writing action sequences of this kind, but I'm really happy of how this chapter and this whole story turned out and I hope you darlings are, too! I had so much fun with this 'verse, and it's definitely the closest of anything I've written to the kinds of stories I want to tell in my original works. If you liked this story overall (I know there was a lot of room for improvement!) then I think you may like the stories I've got in store as an author!

Thank you darlings for all of your support and enthusiasm!

“I must admit, I was beginning to doubt if I’d ever get the satisfaction of having a Rogers on his knees. Of course,” Anton muses, sliding both hands lazily into his pockets, “I’d always pictured it to be Joseph. Maybe Pietro. But I suppose you look enough like both of them to suffice.”

Steve clenches his jaw, eyes flickering to Wanda kneeling beside him in the middle of what seems to be an empty warehouse. Honestly, Steve wouldn’t be surprised if it’s exactly that. The restaurant he and Wanda had been about to pick up food from is near the harbor, and Steve knows that Howard Stark just bought a few shipment facilities in this area from a business going bankrupt. He mentioned they were about to break ground on this site, too, which means all of the buildings would’ve already been cleaned out and fenced off from the public, and since this place is going to be the new site for another Stark Industries building, it would make sense that Anton would have access to it.

“And you, my dear,” Anton continues, turning to Wanda, and Steve feels his entire body stiffen as Anton reaches down to grasp at Wanda’s throat, forcing her to tip her chin up to meet his stare. Her wrists are tied behind her back, probably just as tightly as Steve’s are, but her arms still wiggle as she struggles against the knot, twisting her body away from Anton as best as she can. “Unfortunately, I’ll have to get rid of you as well. If I thought you would actually stay quiet, I would’ve kept your pretty face for myself.”

Wanda narrows her eyes up at him in a glare. “I would have begged for you to kill me instead.”

“I thought you were smart enough not to show your hand.” Anton releases her throat with a shove, nearly knocking her over, and Steve grits his teeth together. “Since it seems worse than death for you, I might just change my mind. Kill your beloved brother in front of you then keep you out of sight for a while, just for my amusement.”

“I’m all for that plan,” Ivan chimes in, squatting down beside Wanda and brushing her hair from her face, glass shards from the shattered back windshield of the car still threaded through the wild strands. He grasps her chin with his fingers, flashing his teeth in a dangerous smile. “What do you think, princess? Should we have a little fun?”

“That’s enough,” Steve practically growls. “You’re not touching her.”

“Unless it’s over your dead body?” Anton guesses. “Because if that’s what you’re waiting for, it’s about to be arranged.”

“You’re not touching her, period,” Steve snaps, only barely keeping his voice from shaking, every muscle in his body going taut. He’s pissed. He’s fucking pissed, and he knows that Anton can see it in his eyes because there’s a fleeting flash of alarm in his eyes before he blinks, smug once more.

It doesn’t fool Steve, though. Anton might’ve taken his gun, and he might have Steve on his knees with his hands tied, but the man still feels threatened by him.

“You’re not in any position to be making threats,” Ivan spits out at Steve, practically sneering. “But what else would I expect? You Rogers feel like you own the fucking world. Howard barely even blinks in my direction all these years and yet, you step in and he serves his precious niece up to you on a silver platter, just because you’re Joseph’s boy.”

Steve curls his fists even tighter, somehow, almost tight enough that his fingernails practically break through his own skin. “Therein lies your problem,” Steve replies, and some small, selfish part of him relishes in the obvious annoyance flickering in Ivan’s expression at how calm his voice is, almost nonchalant. No doubt the guy thinks it only proves his belief that Steve feels like he’s entitled. “Maybe if you stopped treating women like playthings, he might start to consider you as someone worth acknowledging.”

Ivan half-shoves his hand away from Wanda, just as Anton had, and grabs the front of Steve’s shirt with his fist, hauling him onto his feet as he practically growls in his face.

Steve blinks back at him, jaw ticking, but he manages to keep his expression composed. Which of course only pisses Ivan off even more.

“You think you can just swoop in and take your daddy’s place on top?” Ivan demands. “You think you’ve got everyone fooled?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Steve hitches his mouth up ever so slightly in a smirk. “I think being head of the Family already speaks for itself. Not that you’d know what that kind of respect is like considering Howard barely considers you one of his soldiers.”

Ivan grits his teeth. “I’m the only one who isn’t too big of a coward to be scared off by Stark’s made up rules. That’s the real reason he doesn’t get in my way.”

“You’re a liability,” Steve counters. “You think my father is the only reason I get any respect? Your father is the only reason you haven’t been cut off.”

A growl rips of Ivan’s throat. “You little—”

“Calm down, boy!” Anton barks, yanking Ivan back by his jacket, and Ivan shoves Steve back before shrugging his father’s hand off of him, still gritting his teeth. “This is why you get sloppy. He’s trying to rile you up and you’re falling for it.”

Steve holds back a grunt of discomfort as his knees hit the ground again, his body very nearly swaying back from the force of Ivan’s shove, but he manages to catch his balance at the last second. Anton is in Ivan’s face now, his words coming out in a low hiss as he says something to Ivan under his breath, and Steve takes the moment of distraction to turn to Wanda once more. He hadn’t wanted to risk more than just a few quick glances, wanting to avoid drawing any more attention onto her. It’s already obvious to Anton and Ivan that the only real advantage they have over Steve is his sister, and likewise for Wanda, but actually showing that weakness is even worse.

He was worried that she might’ve been more banged up from the crash than he initially thought, and now that he has the time to look for any injuries, he notices a fresh scrape on her arm, probably from when Anton dragged her from the wreckage. But it isn’t bleeding, nor does it seem all that deep, so he won’t worry over it right now.

What does worry him, though, is the fact that Wanda is still squirming against her restraints. It’s subtle enough that Ivan and Anton probably won’t notice, but Steve does, and for a moment he thinks that maybe she’s in discomfort because of how tightly the rope could be knotted around her wrists—but then he catches a glimpse of something shifting behind her back. The slim, black metal is hidden by Wanda’s blouse at an awkward angle with the way her wrists are tied together, but he recognizes it in an instant.

Bucky’s knife.

... ...

The hotel that Yuri’s men take her to is one of the few in New York that her uncle hasn’t managed to buy out, which Natasha is willing to bet isn’t a coincidence on their part. That’s likely the only reason they were able to slip under the Family’s radar for so long, though the place itself is by no means modest, and Natasha isn’t surprised when they lead her onto the elevator reserved for the residential suites at the top. And he’d probably booked out the entire top floor, too, not simply for his men but for the sake of discretion as well – and, not for the first time, Natasha knows it’d been the right call to follow Yelena’s advice to not have Tony follow her when she was going to be grabbed.

Judging just from the number of men posted along the hallways on the way to the suite, Natasha knows her family would’ve been outgunned on their own, even with every capo and soldier available on such short notice. Having the entire Family and their men will give them the advantage.

Just as long as Natasha can hold out until they find her.

Yelena has barely glanced in her direction, her composed expression perfectly in place, and Natasha has been careful to keep her own gaze appropriately alarmed considering she was just coerced into the back of a van off of the street without any explanation. If she comes off too unaffected, they may realize that she’d been expecting this; but she can’t come off too affected, either, considering it would be just as suspicious for someone so high up in a mafia to act as if this is her first ever time in this kind of situation.

Which it isn’t, though both other times had been part of her plan, so it really didn’t matter how unaffected she appeared to be when she’d had the upper hand from the beginning. This time is far different, and if Natasha had any less of a poker face, she wouldn’t stand a chance at making Yuri believe she’s entirely in the dark.

Yelena produces a keycard from her pocket as they reach the double doors of the suite, unlocking them, and then two men draw them open from inside, revealing a large sitting room with wide, glass walls overlooking the city.

And, lounging on the couch in the center of the suite, is Yuri Petrovich.

Natasha had already known who he was before Yelena had explained their connection. He may live in a different country, but his mob has associates in New York, so the Family has always kept tabs on them. Even without that reason, her uncle would’ve insisted on it, anyway, simply because of their reputation.

And because of her, she realizes. Just as Yelena had said, whether or not Natasha truly is related to him isn’t relevant; the possibility of it alone would’ve been enough for her and her mother to be on their radar to begin with, and that would’ve been enough for Uncle Howard to view the threat of the Petrovich mob coming after them as real.

“Natasha,” he greets, his smile almost charming, and his men usher her further into the room as they close the doors behind her. “I’m glad that you can join us.”

Her lips curve into the ghosts of a smirk. “I couldn’t exactly decline the invitation.”

He waves her over with two fingers, and she takes a moment to let her gaze slide over the room. Partly to assess where his men are posted throughout the suite, a move he would’ve expected her to pull, but also to take note of where Yelena has come to stand behind the couch Yuri is seated on. Distant enough as to not draw suspicion yet close enough to have an advantage over him from behind, though it also puts her in everyone’s line of fire, so the chances of her actually being able to make the first move are slim.

Not without a distraction, at least.

Natasha walks around the couch opposite of Yuri, perching herself on the cushion, and he leans forward to grab a bottle of vodka out of a bucket of ice on the table. “Care to join me?” he asks, pouring the alcohol into two shot glasses. “I know it’s not a traditional drink to share for first meetings, but I have a feeling you and I have the same taste.”

She lets cautious curiosity flicker in her eyes when he looks at her. “That’s quite an assumption”

“Let’s just say, I recognize a kindred spirit when I see one,” he replies, sliding one of the glasses over, and she eyes him skeptically as she picks it up. “After all, we already have quite a lot in common.”

“Because I’m of Russian blood?” she asks. She knows it could be dangerous to try and coax the truth out of him like this, but the secretive, smug edge to his smirk only widens, his eyes flashing, and Natasha can tell that he finds her choice of words more ironic than suspicious. “If you know this about me, you’ll also know I was raised here.”

He hums, lifting his glass instead of replying, and Natasha tips her head back as he does to drain her shot. It’ll take more than this to get her drunk or even buzzed, but she still needs to be careful if he insists on more.

“I do know this,” Yuri finally answers, setting the vodka aside as he stares back at her. “I know quite a bit about you, in fact.”

“And I suppose the reason for that is why you’ve come all the way here to pay me a visit in person,” Natasha muses. “Or is this how you woo all the Russian girls?”

“Woo?” He shakes his head. “No, that would be rather inappropriate, though I don’t suppose Melina Stark has given you a clue as to why.”

Natasha allows her irritation to flit across her expression, her body stiffening in annoyance at his tone, though the satisfied curl of his lips tells her that she’s come off as alarmed as she’d intended. “If we have as much in common as you say, then you’ll know that as adept as I am at playing games, I don’t particularly enjoy them,” Natasha replies, letting her casual tone slip from her voice as she narrows ever so slightly. “I would hardly consider us kindred spirits simply because we’re both of Russian descent.”

Yuri raises his eyebrows slightly, almost seeming impressed by her bluntness. “Perhaps we don’t have everything in common, because I do enjoy a good game of watching others squirm. But since I admire your boldness, I’ll return it: our Russian descent isn’t all that we share, dear sister. We are blood by its very definition.”

She tilts her head, gauging his expression. It’s clear that he believes his words, just as Yelena had said, and she lets anger flit across her face. “And I should take your word?”

“If I had the time, I would’ve brought Melina here to tell you the story herself,” Yuri replies, his smirk widening as he lounges back against the couch. “But since she isn’t with us at the moment, I’ll give you the courtesy that she should’ve given you and tell you exactly why Melina Vostokoff fled to America on your father’s arm. Of course, if I’d been accused of having an affair with my best friend’s husband, I wouldn’t be too keen on sharing that story with my supposed daughter,” he adds with a shake of his head.

“An affair?” Natasha questions.

“I believe you’re intelligent, dear sister, and the talk of you within the underground of New York would support my belief,” Yuri muses. “I know you must have wondered what would’ve compelled your mother to marry a man who had been on vacation and leave her country on such an impulsive whim. Sure, it makes for quite a romantic story, but you know deep down that isn’t the truth.” Yuri leans forward again, his elbows resting on his knees as he holds Natasha’s stare, eyes flashing dangerously. “The reason that Melina acclimated so quickly to her husband’s lifestyle is because she was already familiar with it herself. It was a life she shared with her best friend Alia back in Russia.”

“Which is supposedly your mother,” Natasha guesses, keeping her voice dry and unamused. “Alia Petrovich.”

He flashes his teeth in a wide grin. “Formerly known as Natalia Romanov. Quite similar to your own name, isn’t it, Natasha?”

This time, Natasha’s surprise is genuine as she pulls back slightly. He reaches into his pocket, making Natasha’s body stiffen in alarm, but rather than a weapon, he produces a thin necklace and tosses it in her direction, and she catches it in her palm. The charm is a slim bar, engraved in script—her own name, she realizes.

“When my mother passed, this was found among her possessions. At first, I believed it was simply hers. Natasha is a variant of Natalia, after all.” He shakes his head, and there’s something in his voice, something in his eyes, that has Natasha nearly holding her breath. She isn’t simply feigning ignorance for his sake; she can feel her blood begin to hum in her veins, as if anticipating his next words. “But then I realized that it wasn’t meant for her. It was meant for you, my dear sister,” he tells her, and Natasha nearly risks a glance at Yelena, wanting to see if this is a surprise to her as well. Natasha is willing to bet that it is. “Melina never had an affair. Our mother was the one that did.”

... ...

Steve clenches and unclenches his jaw, careful to keep his anger in his expression even as he feels relief unfurl in his chest as Wanda finally slices through the knot around her wrists. She catches the rope in her fingers before it can go slack, hand closing tightly around the handle of the slim, black knife. The one that Ivan had evidently missed when he’d patted her down. Considering her arms have been drawn behind her back this whole time, Steve is guessing that she had the holster strapped under her blouse. Bucky’s knife is thin enough that it would have still been decently concealed despite the tapered fit of the material, but also, they’d been lucky that Ivan hadn’t done a thorough check.

He probably thought he hadn’t needed to; Wanda is as adept with a gun as the rest of the Family, but she isn’t typically armed.

It seems that Bucky has taken care of that himself.

“Enough,” Anton finally barks, shaking his head at Ivan before turning back to Steve. “Yet another example of how you Rogers have been a thorn in my side all these years.”

“Considering I didn’t even know who you were until a few months ago, it’s rather an impressive accomplishment to be under your skin for years,” Steve retorts. Anton may not be as reactive as Ivan, but Steve still knows how to piss Anton off. He’s pretty damn full of himself, and considering how long Joseph Rogers has known him, it’d be a definite bruise to Anton’s ego to know he hadn’t been worth mentioning, especially since Steve had already known most of the other Family members when he took his father’s place.

As long as Anton and Ivan are too focused on being pissed at Steve to notice that Wanda’s freed herself, all she’ll have to do is hold off until the right time.

Though Steve doesn’t know how easily that’ll come, if at all. It may just be Anton and Ivan inside the warehouse with them, but Steve knew he’d had a few men with him during the crash. Likely the handful of capos and soldiers loyal to him rather than to Howard, because there’s no way they’d go along with this kind of plan otherwise. It’d put their asses on the line, too, and Steve would hope that they’re sensible enough to know that both Anton and Ivan would throw them under the bus if Howard got wind of it.

Anton’s jaw ticks. “I’ve known you the least, but I’m pretty damn sure I’ll get the most enjoyment out of putting a bullet through your head.”

“Because I walked in and took the seat at the head of the Families that you’ve wanted all along?” Steve asks. “Or because I know you were the one stealing from Howard?”

It’s something Steve had a gut feeling about being true when it’d clicked into place in his mind, but the flash in Anton’s eyes is all the confirmation he needs. He manages to school his expression back into annoyance only a second later, but it’s more in vain than anything else. He knows Steve had caught his initial reaction.

And maybe that’s why he doesn’t completely deny it like Steve had still been expecting. “And what makes you say that?” Anton asks, still feigning annoyance.

“Howard is a cautious man when it comes to his legitimate businesses, and especially when it comes to Stark Industries,” Steve points out. “I can only imagine how much stricter he was when Stark Industries was getting off of the ground, and operating out of only one small building with a handful of employees should’ve meant he’d have no trouble keeping everything locked up tight. Not unless someone Howard trusted enough to give complete access without his monitoring was the one stealing,” Steve adds.

Anton’s eyes flash. “I’ve known Howard for years. He wouldn’t believe your word over mine.”

“He would if it made sense, which it does,” Steve counters. “Howard’s loyal, but not blindly loyal. And considering your son’s recklessness puts the Family’s ass in some kind of jeopardy almost every day, he’d have no problems cutting both of you out of the picture the second he gets a decent reason. Even if your secret dies with me, he’d still cut you off for trying to get rid of Pietro and Wanda, too.” This time Anton doesn’t attempt to hide his surprise, and in his peripheral, Steve catches his sister flinch, genuinely shocked.

Anton smirks, but the smugness from his eyes is gone. “Those incidents weren’t my doing,” he argues.

“Maybe not directly,” Steve counters. “It was an Asgard car spotted near both of those scenes at the time, and by every one of the Family’s busted deals and shipments, too. But if we dig just a little deeper, it’d be easy to find out that you and Ivan were the ones goading Hela into doing your dirty work.”

“She doesn’t need anyone to help fuel her crazy.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Steve agrees. “Which makes her a convenient person to pin the blame on, especially since the Family knows she has it out for my father. Dad was getting a lot closer to your secret. You knew he’d share his theories with his kids, too, so you needed a quick and permanent fix. Then my dad goes missing and you get your chance.”

Anton narrows his eyes. “You think you’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?” he questions, but there’s no real threat in his voice, and Steve knows his assumptions are right.

Before Steve can respond, though, Ivan snaps, “I’m getting sick of all this talking.” He draws his gun from the pocket inside his jacket, giving Steve a glimpse of his own gun hooked into Ivan’s holster at his hip. “Maybe we should test your theory of this secret dying with you,” he snarls. Steve simply blinks back at him, but then he catches Ivan’s gaze shift back to Wanda and Steve’s shoulders go rigid. Ivan smirks. “Or better yet, maybe we’ll start with your sister first. You won’t feel like such a smug ass then, huh?”

Ivan squats down and grasps Wanda by her neck, forcing her chin to tip up as he starts to dig his fingers into her throat—

And then a screech from outside. It’s muffled but unmistakable, and close. Maybe no more than a few dozen feet away.

Tires.

Ivan and Anton’s heads snap around toward the doors at the other end of the warehouse. “What the hell is that?” Ivan growls out, but Anton lets out a low hiss for him to shut up, one hand already reaching into his jacket for his gun as he takes a few steps closer, as if ready to head outside to check himself.

There are voices being raised from outside; the men Anton kept posted out there to keep watch start to shout over one another, their words muffled but the alarm ringing clear in their tones.

And then two harsh cracks rip through the air – gunshots – right before the sound of metal slamming together, colliding in a hard crash.

“Shit,” Ivan mutters, starting to get up, but then Wanda slips her arms out from behind her almost in a blink, knife in hand, and Ivan lets out a sudden groan as she thrusts the blade into him. He hisses, his hand going slack around his gun as he staggers back, and then Wanda is shoving him forward and sending him stumbling back into Anton as his weight knocks them both over. Another blink, and Wanda is lunging across the small distance, on her knees beside Steve and shoving him over as another shot goes off.

Steve groans, a jolt of pain shooting through his shoulder right before his side hits the ground, but he barely has a second to register it before Wanda is down on one knee in front of him, her body half-angled away from him just as Anton has gotten back onto his feet, lifting his gun to aim it in their direction.

For a fleeting second, Steve’s heart slams to stop against his ribcage—

And then Anton’s face twists into a sneer as he spits out, “You’re too much of a princess to pull that trigger,” at Wanda, and Steve’s eyes snap onto his sister. With the way he’d fallen and the way Wanda’s back is turned toward him, he hadn’t noticed the gun in her hand, pointed right back at Anton.

Ivan’s gun, Steve realizes. His gaze slides down and, sure enough, he finds Bucky’s knife still curled tightly in her other hand, only a little bit of blood actually smudged onto the blade from how quickly she’d pulled it out of Ivan’s chest.

“Go ahead, prove me right,” Anton goads. “You don’t have the balls to—”

He’s cut off as another crack rips through the air, and then he’s shouting, staggering down onto one knee, his gun falling from his hand and clattering onto the ground as he clutches at his shoulder with a hiss. Wanda shifts her body, arm swinging toward Ivan as he’s in the middle of staggering back up to his feet, and then another shot goes off and groans out, “fuck!” and clutches at his leg, his body hitting the ground once more. Wanda whirls back toward Steve, bending over him, and though the blade manages to nick his skin in her haste to slice the ropes from around his wrist, he barely notices. After getting grazed with one of Anton’s bullets, a little cut is hardly going to bother him.

Wanda is on her feet before Steve is, gun aimed at Anton once more as she gets her boot on his gun where it fell, sliding it back before he can attempt to retrieve it. Steve half-lunges across the small distance to Ivan, still clutching at his leg where Wanda shot him, and then Steve snatches his gun out of Ivan’s holster and aims it at him.

He turns his head, keeping Ivan in his peripheral as he looks at Wanda with his lips twitching at the corners. “Good aim.”

Wanda’s eyes twinkle. “I’m Clint’s best student for a reason,” she replies as the doors at the other end of the warehouse are thrown open, and then both of their gazes are whirling in that direction just as Bucky and Sam and a few officers burst through.

Steve very nearly slackens in relief, but he manages to keep his gun aimed at Ivan until one of the officers reaches him, producing a pair of handcuffs.

Wanda lowers her gun, too, just as Bucky reaches her, one hand reaching out to cup her cheek as his eyes dart over her almost wildly. A moment later, he exhales a breath, the tension ebbing from his body as he seems to confirm for himself that she isn’t hurt, and then he’s reaching down with his other hand to curl his fingers around hers where they’re still gripping the handle of the knife. His knife, stained with Ivan’s blood. His eyes glint. “Atta girl,” he murmurs, and then he’s drawing her close, slanting his lips over hers. Steve watches as Wanda’s body finally eases in relief, very nearly melting into Bucky as she sways forward, and he hooks an arm around her to keep them both steady.

Steve turns away to give them a moment, and then Sam is beside him, reaching up to touch the frayed line of his jacket where the bullet grazed him.

“Just a scratch?” Sam asks, one eyebrow arched as his lip hitches at the corner, and, despite everything, Steve breathes out a laugh.

“Barely a paper cut,” Steve returns, and Sam just shakes his head. “You guys got here pretty fast.”

Sam nods, gaze shifting onto Anton as two officers are snapping cuffs around his wrists and starting to lead him out of the warehouse. “We’ve had a tracker on Anton’s car for a few days now and we’ve been tailing him at a decent distance. The second it got cut off in the crash, our asses were on the move.”

Steve nods, but there’s something in Sam’s eyes that makes him pause. “What?” he asks, aware of the way Bucky and Wanda pull away from each other in his peripheral as Bucky tugs her closer to Steve’s side, his lips twitching into a grin.

“We’ve got something for you,” Bucky answers, nodding his head toward the doors.

Steve catches his sister’s curious gaze, exchanging a look before Bucky is gently urging her forward with a hand on the small of her back, and Steve follows the two of them out of the warehouse with Sam. There are already several patrol cars parked along the fence that’d been put up by the construction company, officers in the midst of loading Ivan and Anton and their men into the back seats, and what few pedestrians happen to be walking in the area are already starting to pause to try and see what’s happening.

It isn’t until Steve’s gaze finds a familiar car at the end of the fence, though, that he realizes why Sam and Bucky had been grinning so hard.

Dad.

... ...

Our mother.

Natasha’s fingers tighten around the necklace in her hand, so much so that she can feel the charm starting to dig into her palm, but she barely flinches. Her stare stays fixed on Yuri, searching his face for any small shift in his expression, any small twitch or tell that may give away the fact that he’s bluffing—but that smirk sits perfectly in place and the smug gleam in his eyes never wavers. Rationally, she knows that this doesn’t automatically mean he’s telling the truth. She has a pretty damn good poker face, too, and she can count on one hand the number of times someone had picked up on it when she was bluffing. Even then, they hadn’t been entirely sure if she was actually lying or not.

But she can feel her chest tightening, and her instinct tells her that something about his story makes sense.

She’s always found her parents’ story odd, and though Yelena’s explanation would’ve cleared a lot of it, Natasha knew something was still off. Something was missing. Why would her mother join a mob so that she, Joseph, and Alia could keep each other safe and yet sleep with the man her best friend married? The very same one she wanted to protect Alia from? And Natasha knows she looks like her father, like her Uncle Howard and Tony and Peter. It’s been said countless times that she has the Stark stamp to her.

Belatedly, her conversation with Steve comes back to her and how he apologized for getting upset when she hid “Sarah Rogers” from him. He told her he would’ve done the same thing, would’ve waited before telling Natasha something that could upset her because it was about her mother.

I just want to be sure, he told her.

This was what he’d been hesitant to tell her. Maybe he didn’t put together the exact truth, but he’d already suspected that her mother wasn’t her birth mother.

“I suppose you expect me to just take your word for it,” Natasha replies, managing to keep her voice steady despite the way her heart is starting to pound against her ribcage.

Yuri sits up a little straighter, lifting his eyebrows. “Perhaps I should have invited Melina to join us and tell you herself.”

Natasha lets out a light, almost nonchalant him in reply, even as her fist curls even tighter around the necklace still in her hand, and she knows she’s managed to catch him off guard by her lack of reaction to his threat because there’s a fleeting shift of uncertainty in his eyes. Then he blinks and that smug, knowing gleam is back in place.

“I’m surprised you didn’t consider it to begin with, after going through all this trouble to come here to convince me of the truth in person.” Natasha quirks an eyebrow at him. “Unless, of course, you have another reason for coming to an entirely different country to meet someone who could only supposedly be your family.”

He nearly bares his teeth in a dangerous grin. “You really don’t enjoy games, do you, dear sister?” he drawls. “It’s almost as if you’re trying to rush this along. Of course, if I were you, I would be eager to get to my date tonight as well. With Rogers, correct?” He reaches for the bottle of vodka again and then leans forward to retrieve Natasha’s shot glass, his eyes glinting as he catches her stare. “Like mother, like daughter, after all. I’m told that our mother was quite fond of Joseph Rogers. I’m sure I would’ve heard all about him if not for the way my father got particularly violent whenever Joseph Rogers was ever breathed. It’s quite tragic that he went missing a few months ago, isn’t it?”

Natasha studies his expression for a moment, and, possibly for the first time since he began speaking, she knows he’s bluffing.

His tone is suggestive, and threatening, wanting her to believe he’s in on the secret of how Joseph Rogers had gone missing, or maybe that he’d been involved somehow.

But he wouldn’t be here if he knew the truth. Even if he’s cold enough not to care about someone planning to kill his own father, Ivan dying while Yuri is overseas won’t make it easy for Yuri to take control of the mob if he makes it back to Russia. Not if there are already more than enough people that want him gone.

Maybe she doesn’t need to stall. Maybe she can distract him herself.

“Oh, you don’t expect me to believe that you listen to the rumors,” Natasha counters, letting her voice lilt in amusement—and, sure enough, there’s a flash of uncertainty in his eyes at her reaction. He slides her shot glass back over and she picks it up, letting a secretive smile curl at her lips. “But I will say this, your acting is quite convincing.”

She downs her shot without waiting for him to finish pouring his, licking her lips, and his jaw ticks. “And here I thought you don’t like playing games.”

Natasha tilts her head, arching an eyebrow. “And what game is it that you think I’m playing?”

Yuri smirks, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes this time. “I’m sure it doesn’t do well for your reputation that the head of the Families went missing at all, let alone for this long and without any leads,” he muses. “But there’s no need to keep up pretenses for me.” She simply hums as he sets the bottle of vodka down on the table between them, letting her lips curve into a smug, knowing smirk of her own, not so much as blinking when he holds her stare, and she can see exactly when he realizes that she may not be bluffing.

He blinks twice, working to keep his expression unaffected. “Alright. I’ll humor you, dear sister. If Joseph Rogers hasn’t been missing all this time, where is he?”

Natasha leans in closer to the table between them, nearly perched on the very edge of the couch. “Tell me, baby brother,” she starts, her smirk widening when she catches the way his jaw ticks, “why I should divulge that when you haven’t even admitted that you’ve come here to kill me. I’ve never even stepped foot in Russia and yet, I’m a threat to you, aren’t I?” She leans in even closer, catching the way Yelena draws closer to Yuri from behind, too, as is protective. “If it’s a choice between you and me, I’m the best bet. A mafia princess to the underground and a Stark princess to the world. I can offer them everything, but you and your father are nothing but liabilities they’re eager to cut out.”

A growl nearly rips from Yuri’s throat, his composure quickly slipping through his fingers. “You think you know everything, don’t you?”

“No,” she replies, her voice dropping to a low, staged whisper. “I only pretend to,” she says, glancing over his shoulder to catch Yelena’s gaze, and the woman gives her a barely discernable nod right before she has her gun up, firing two shots – one each for the two men standing at the doors of the suite.

Natasha doesn’t have to look back to check to see if they hit, nor does she have time to, because just as Yuri starts to turn around, Natasha’s hand wraps around the neck of the bottle of vodka and she’s swinging it hard, slamming it up into Yuri’s jaw with as much force as she can muster at such a close range.

Yuri keels over as Natasha is on her feet, twisting her body around as she flings the bottle toward the two men standing to her left. There are also two more men to her right that could have a chance to shoot at her, but as she gets a running start, she catches a glimpse of the two guys that’d been posted behind Yelena dropping to the floor as she whirls around, gun pointed, so Natasha doesn’t worry about what’s behind her as she sprints forward, dropping to the ground right as one of them manages to get their gun up. He gets a shot off, but Natasha is already sliding across the carpet, swiping her legs under the other guy – the one already staggering back from being hit with the bottle of vodka – before spinning back around and onto her feet, and then she grabs the other guy by his jacket, yanking him down and sending his head cracking against her knee.

She swipes one of their guns out of their hands and whirls around, aiming it at where Yuri had been in the same second that Yelena does—

But Yuri is already up and over the couch and bounding out the suite, the doors slamming closed behind him, and Yelena exhales a curse under her breath as she lowers her gun and catches Natasha’s gaze.

“As soon as he caught me, he knew he’d be outnumbered when it came down to the three of us,” Yelena tells her. “But if the others are still in the hallway when we leave this suite, we’ll be outnumbered. If even half of the men stayed, that’s too much heat for us to take, and there’s no other way out of this suite.”

“Well, if he makes it out of this hotel, he’ll come after both of us and my family, too,” Natasha counters.

Yelena rubs her lips together, considering this for a moment, and then she swears under her breath again. “Let’s go,” she says, and Natasha swallows lightly, crossing the room and meeting Yelena at the door. “Any plan?” she asks.

Despite herself, Natasha lets out a humorless laugh. “Try not to die?”

Yelena nearly cracks a smile. “Your plan sucks,” she retorts, and then they’re both tugging at the handles, throwing the doors open and stepping into the hallway, and Natasha whirls around to stand with her back to Yelena’s as she points her gun at—

“Mom,” Natasha breathes out, her heart nearly slamming to a stop against her ribcage as she lowers her gun. Her mother lowers her gun, too, and her composed expression dissolves into relief. Natasha’s eyes flit over her shoulder and down the hallway, her father already lowering his own gun as he makes his way over to them, and then, right in front of the door to the stairwell, Uncle Howard and Nick Fury are watching as Thor and Odin are shoving someone over the threshold and maneuvering him down the stairs.

Yuri.

Natasha nearly sways back on her feet as she feels the relief flood through her, her eyes shifting back to her mother. “You got him?” she asks, even though she already knows the answer. She still wants to hear it, though.

“Yes,” her mother tells her, her voice soft. “If you had waited a few more minutes, we would’ve saved you from all the excitement.”

“She wouldn’t be our daughter if she preferred less excitement,” her father quips, coming to stand beside them. Natasha exhales a sharp, breathy sort of laugh as her mother reaches for her, drawing her close—and though she and her parents have never been the kind to prefer hugs, it’s almost instant, the way she melts into the embrace.

... ...

Wanda must’ve seen their father a split second before Steve had, because just as Steve’s mind is starting to catch up to the fact that that’s him – that his father is here, after being gone for so months – Wanda lets out a shaky, sharp, breathy sound, and then she starts running, quickly crossing the distance to the gate at the corner of the fence as their father gets it open. She throws herself at him in a hug that quite literally knocks him back a few steps, but his arms go around her, too, as his deep laugh fills the air.

Steve takes his time making his way over, feeling himself smile as he watches his father brushes a kiss to Wanda’s hair, murmuring something to her that makes her giggle and press her face into his shoulder. Then his eyes shift, watching through the fence as Pietro gets out of their father’s car and starts heading toward their father and sister. He catches Steve’s gaze, lifting his hand in a wave, and Steve’s smile widens, relieved his brother doesn’t seem any worse for wear considering he just got out of the hospital.

“Bet you didn’t see this coming!” Pietro calls out, and their father lifts his head, his eyes wrinkling into a brighter smile when they land on Steve.

Wanda turns to look over her shoulder at him, too, her eyelashes dotted with tears she hasn’t quite shed yet. His sister’s smile is small and shaky, but beautiful and relieved and so fucking happy, and then she steps back from their father, practically ducking under his arm to squeeze Pietro in a hug the second he’s within her reach.

“Steve,” his father greets, his voice low and gruff. The two of them had never been particularly affectionate with each other, not in the same way his siblings are, but it was never something Steve held any resentment towards him for. His father raised the twins mostly on his own, while Steve didn’t even meet his father until after high school, and anytime they’ve spent together since then, they’ve had the twins as a buffer. He and his father are closer now, but there had still been some lingering space between them.

Still, somehow Steve isn’t all that surprised when his father doesn’t hesitate to grasp at Steve’s shoulder, pulling him in for a hug as well.

Steve blinks, his chest tightening, but he doesn’t miss a beat in returning his father’s embrace. It doesn’t linger quite as long as his hug with Wanda had, but his father still gives him one last sort of squeeze before pulling away, one hand still lingering on Steve’s shoulder.

And this time, Steve is surprised when he catches the cracks in his father’s usually nonchalant expression. Considering who the man is, Steve had always seen his father as formidable and unyielding. Sure, Steve knew firsthand that the man had a soft side for his children, but for the most part, his composure never wavered.

“Welcome home,” Steve tells him, his voice a little rough. “How was your trip?”

His father’s eyes glint. “Good,” he answers simply, and it should be strange, how that one word seems to make the air shift. He turns to Wanda and Pietro as Wanda blinks up at him, her eyes wide and glimmering. “It was really good,” he tells them, the meaning clear in his tone. “But I much prefer to be home.”

“I take it that means you don’t have plans to be anywhere else anytime soon?” Steve asks.

His father squeezes his shoulder firmly, his lips hitching up into a wider smile—and, for a fleeting second, Steve almost sees his own face smiling back at him, making his chest squeeze in a way he hasn’t felt since his mother had passed.

“No,” his father promises, shaking his head once. “I’m right where I need to be.”

“Well, if you ever did decide to take another vacation,” Pietro chimes in, his lips spreading into a wide grin as he glances at Steve, “we can hold down the fort.”

Wanda breathes out a laugh, her smile bright, proud, and when Steve catches his father’s stare once more, he sees the same emotion reflected in his eyes. “I’ve always known that,” he says, and Steve feels his chest squeeze again, his own smile widening because he’s starting to realize that maybe he always had, too.

... ...

Her uncle stays behind at the hotel to handle things with Nick and Odin, and though Uncle Howard asks Natasha if she wants to have a say in what they do with Yuri and his men, she promises her uncle that she won’t come up with something nearly as creative as he can. Besides, she knows that the Family likes to take their time in dealing with anyone that’s threatened one of their own, and Natasha doesn’t want to waste another ounce of her energy on Yuri if she can help it. And she’s willing to bet it will drive him crazy to be told that he’d gone through all of this effort to come after her himself when she doesn’t even want to be there to watch while the Family has their fun with him.

“I know today has been exciting and all, so I thought I’d make one of your favorites,” her father says, and it’s almost instant, the grin that pulls at Natasha’s lips when he slides over a double shot of vodka poured into a wine glass. Part of her wonders if she should find the choice of alcohol ironic, all things considered, but as she picks up the glass, swirling it around as if it were actually wine, she doesn’t think of sharing shots of vodka with Yuri in that hotel suite. Instead, she thinks about the first ever time her father had poured her vodka in a wine glass just like this, when she first moved into this apartment out of college and her parents had come over to help her get settled in.

He’d joked about it being a celebration of both of her heritages, when in reality, they simply hadn’t wanted to open every box until they found her shot glasses.

“How sentimental,” her mother notes, amusement pulling at her own smile.

Her father tips his head, considering this. “I have my moments,” he admits, reaching into his pocket, and Natasha watches as he pulls out the thin, silver necklace that she’d held earlier that night, setting it carefully on the kitchen island between them, his expression softening.

Melina picks it up gently, threading the chain through her fingers and lifting it to let the engraved bar dangle for her to read.

Natasha watches her mother, remembering the way she and Alia—Natalia—had looked in that photograph she and Steve had found among his father’s things. It had to have been taken after Joseph Rogers, Alia, and her mother had joined the mob since Alexi was in the photo, too, and yet, Alia looked content. She looked happy because she was with the people she loved most, and that was enough to make her feel as carefree as she’d looked in that photo, even if her life had been anything but that because of Ivan.

“Is there any truth to that?” Natasha asks gently, nodding at the necklace in her mother’s hand, though it’s not really a question. The expression on both of her parents’ faces is more than enough proof.

Her mother catches her gaze, her smile soft. “Yes,” she answers simply, reaching over to tuck some of Natasha’s hair behind her ear. “You’re my last piece of her.”

Natasha feels something warm tug at her chest, and then she turns to her father. “How did you all meet?”

“Because of Joseph,” her father replies. Natasha lifts her eyebrows slightly in surprise; she hadn’t expected that. “By now, I assume you and Steve both know the truth about him and Alia and your mother?” her father asks.

She nods, glancing at her mother. “We found an old picture of you with some of his things.”

Her mother’s smile widens just a little as she sets the necklace back down, untangling the chain from her fingers. “The three of us had known each other since childhood,” her mother explains. “Alia had the biggest heart and wore it on her sleeve, but that was a dangerous thing in our world. Ivan wanted her the moment he saw her, but it was clear to everyone that Joseph and I were the only ones she cared for. She always blamed herself for Ivan wanting to get rid of Joseph, and she was never the same after he left.”

“Joseph was the reason your uncle and I went to Russia in the first place,” her father adds. “He couldn’t risk going back, but when Howard and Maria were having problems and needed space, Joseph asked Howard and I to go to Russia just to check on his old friends. He never stopped worrying about them, but also, he could tell that Howard needed some objective to keep his mind busy.” Her father’s eyes shift to her mother’s, his lips quirking. “Your mother was actually the one to introduce me to Alia,” he says.

Natasha turns to her mother, her own amusement tugging at her lips. “Really?”

Her mother chuckles. “He and your uncle didn’t quite do a good job at hiding how they studied us at the bar,” her mother tells her. “I didn’t know at the time it was because of Joseph. I just knew that Alia had been having a particularly hard time lately and could use a charming stranger to comfort her.”

“We actually left Russia shortly after, but your mother tracked us down when Alia found out she was pregnant,” her father continues. “She hadn’t been engaged to Ivan by then, and your uncle and I snuck the two of them away. But Ivan was far too possessive to let Alia go, and Howard and I hadn’t been prepared to handle this kind of threat away from home.” His eyebrows furrow, the frustration of the memory flashing in his eyes. “Alexi was able to warn us that Ivan finally found her after Alia had given birth.”

“She wanted your father to take you to keep you safe.” Her mother gives her a small, wry sort of smile. “She wanted me to go with him. Ivan only wanted her. He stopped searching for Joseph because he was no longer in his way, and he wouldn’t care if I was gone, either. If she had come with us, he would’ve stopped at nothing to find her and drag her back. She didn’t want to put anyone through that, and she absolutely didn’t want you to be raised like that, always on the run, hiding. She begged us to save you.”

“The moment we brought you home, Joseph recognized her in your face,” her father says, voice soft. “Everyone says how much you look like me, but you look like her, too. You just have to know where to find it.”

Natasha feels herself smile, feels a warmth fluttering in her chest as she thinks back to the photograph they’d found among Joseph’s things. It’s a little odd to think that she hadn’t recognized her own face in Alia, even when Alia had been so much younger in that picture, but part of her liked that it hadn’t been something so obvious. Her likeness to her birth mother, just like the secret itself, was something you have to know to see—something that makes a difference but doesn’t change everything about Natasha’s life.

It doesn’t change who her mother is. It simply gives her another woman to admire.

“I wish I could’ve met her,” Natasha says quietly, and her father comes around the island, cups the back of Natasha’s neck as he brushes a kiss to her forehead.

He doesn’t say the words – neither of her parents do – but Natasha knows the feeling is mutual. She also knows that there wouldn’t have been a way for that to happen, even if Alia was still alive. Not as long as Ivan was alive, too.

A knock at the door makes her father draw away slightly, glancing at Natasha, and, despite everything, she feels her lips twitch in a grin. The only people other than her parents who have ever had her codes to the apartment before are Uncle Howard and Tony, and neither of them would’ve let themselves in at the lobby only to knock on her front door. Then her father blinks, amusement glinting in his eyes as he realizes who it could be, and she rubs her lips together to fight off a smile as he goes to answer it.

And no, she’s not at all surprised when Steve is in her kitchen a moment later, his gaze finding hers within seconds.

“Nat,” he breathes as he crosses the distance to her in a few steps, cupping her face with his hands as his eyes flit over her, checking for himself to see that she’s alright.

Then he exhales a sharp breath, his body easing in relief, and Natasha feels herself smiling as he slants his mouth over hers. The kiss is hard and deep in an instant, and she almost feels herself swaying back atop the barstool with the force of it. He sucks on her bottom lip, thumbs brushing over her cheeks, down the line of her jaw, drawing a soft noise from her throat, and then she hears someone (likely her father) clearing their throat. Steve chuckles as he eases his lips off of hers, parting their kiss and pulling back.

“I’m alright,” she reassures softly, reaching up to wrap her hands around his wrists, giving him a gentle squeeze as if in emphasis.

Over his shoulder, she catches her mother getting up from her barstool, walking toward the threshold of the kitchen – and that’s when she notices Joseph Rogers filling the doorway, reaching for her mother and pulling her into his arms in a hug.

Natasha feels her chest flutter, the warmth of relief at seeing Joseph Rogers alive and home mixing with the bittersweet twinge of knowing what he and her mother are offering each other comfort for. Natasha’s throat tightens a little, her chest tightening, and then Steve is stroking his thumbs over her cheeks in slow, soothing strokes, and her eyes flit up to his. She doesn’t have to ask to know that his father must’ve filled him in on the truth of her and Alia because she can see it in his eyes, just as she knows that the empathy there isn’t just for her. It’s for his father and for her parents, and for Alia, for the hope that they could’ve reunited one day, no matter how slim the chance.

“Come here,” Steve murmurs, pulling his hands from her face so he can wrap his arms around her, drawing her close—and she doesn’t quite realize how overwhelmed she is until her eyes are closed and her face is pressed against his chest, blocking everything else out other than his steady breaths and the soothing circles he rubs over her back.

... ...

It’s late by the time they make it back to his place, but he’s still wide awake as he lays next to Nat in bed. She’d come back with him rather than the two of them crashing at her apartment since they were already there, and he knows it’s because she wanted him to be close to Pietro, just in case. His brother is supposed to be watched for the next few days, anyway, and since Wanda and Pietro had already taken to sleeping at his brownstone rather than their own apartments for the last few days, Steve doesn’t see a point in switching things up. It’s hardly a bother to have them under his roof, and after having the place all to himself for so long, he likes that it feels less empty these days.

He starts to slip out of bed when he feels Natasha reach for him, her fingers curling around his forearm as he’s sitting up, and he smiles down at her in the dark. Even though he’s not tired, he knows she is, because she’d passed out almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. Still, part of him had expected her to wake up as soon as he moved.

She’s always been attuned to him like that.

“I’m just going to drink something warm to help me sleep,” he tells her softly, leaning over to brush his lips to her cheek, running a hand over her side through the duvet.

“Do you want me to come with you?” she asks, her voice heavy and a little raspy with sleep, and he feels his smile widen as he peers down at her in the dark. She’s practically still half asleep, but he’s not surprised at all that she still offers to get up with him. He knows she had quite a day, but she knows he did, too.

“No, it’s okay,” he reassures, sliding his lips lower, pressing a kiss to the spot along her jaw that always, always makes her shiver, and she makes this little noise from the back of her throat. “Sleep,” he murmurs against her skin, and she chuckles softly, barely above a whisper, as she curls into herself a little more and hums in reply.

He clicks his door shut softly behind him when he steps out into the hallway, quietly padding past Wanda and Pietro’s doors as he heads downstairs. He can see that the kitchen light is already on, which likely means his father is still up, and, sure enough, Steve finds him sitting at the kitchen island with a mug of tea sitting on the counter in front of him. His father has his head bent over his phone in front of him, but considering the screen is off when he lifts his head to look at Steve, he was probably just lost in thought. Steve doesn’t blame him. It’s probably the reason the man is up at all, just as Steve is, which is likely why his father doesn’t seem surprised to see him up, too.

The kettle is still hot when Steve picks it up, so he pours some in a mug and grabs a packet of chamomile tea from the box that Wanda keeps stocked in his pantry.

“So, you and Nat, huh?” his father asks once Steve is sitting in the barstool next to his, and a laugh bursts from Steve as he tears at the packet, dunking the tea bag into his mug. His father chuckles, too, shaking his head a little at himself, and maybe also at the strangeness of the moment. Not because it’s the two of them talking alone, when that hasn’t really happened much before, but because, out of all the things he could’ve asked about after the last few hours – hell, after the last few months – this is what he picks.

“Yeah,” Steve says, and maybe he should feel like an idiot for smiling so widely, but he honestly doesn’t care and he knows his father doesn’t, either.

In fact, his father’s mouth hitches as his smile widens a little, too. But his eyes soften a little as he asks, “How’s she holding up?”

Steve pauses as he considers this, toying with the string of the tea bag hanging over the rim of his mug. He thinks about the way Natasha had held onto him in her kitchen when he’d pulled her against his chest, squeezing him close but yet not quite clinging to him, either. “I think maybe it hasn’t entirely hit her just yet,” he admits, because he thinks that’s the truth. She hadn’t seemed particularly shocked when they had dinner at her apartment with their parents; she simply seemed tired, and maybe a little distracted, like she couldn’t help her thoughts pulling her away from the conversation every now and then. “But I don’t think her entire world has been knocked out of place.”

His father nods at this. Considering he’s known Natasha her whole life, he’d probably know how to interpret her reactions pretty damn well, too.

“Honestly, I didn’t think it would be,” his father tells him, rubbing a hand over his hair. “But we didn’t want to minimize how big of a secret it was to keep from her, either.”

We. As in, him and Melina and Edward, maybe even Howard and Maria, too, since Steve doubts Howard would’ve kept this from his wife this entire time.

“Why did you and Melina pretend not to have known each other from before?” Steve asks. It’s not an accusation, and he knows his father won’t take it as one, and though Steve already has an idea of the answer, he figures he might as well ask, anyway, now that all of this is out in the open.

“I think it was instinct, mostly.” His father’s smile turns a little wry as he looks at Steve. “We’d gotten pretty good at downplaying how close we were with each other and with Alia back in Russia, even before Ivan started actively threatening me. When Edward brought her to New York and I saw her again after all those years, it was like a reflex. I’d missed her—missed both of them—but there really wouldn’t be a reason for me to have known a woman who’d never stepped foot in the States before. The Family knew I was adopted, but not from where. Your grandparents kept it under lock and key because Ivan was on a manhunt, and even after he’d stopped, we didn’t want to risk any slip ups.”

Steve nods at this. “Did you ever plan on telling her, or any of us?”

“We debated on it for years,” his father admits with an exhale. “It made sense not to when you were all younger, but there were several times later on that could’ve been right that we just didn’t say anything. I don’t think it was any one thing or any one reason. But it was more about how we felt about it and about bringing it up. You all had the right to know the truth, especially when it could’ve put you in danger, just like Natasha had been today. That’s on us,” his father adds, swallowing roughly with a shake of his head.

“Dad,” Steve says, his voice low and a little rough, too. “It’s not your fault. It’s no one’s fault.”

He’s not just saying that to comfort his father, but because Steve genuinely believes it. Yeah, his father had a point; if he’d never sent Yelena to warn them before Yuri got to New York, they wouldn’t have had an edge over him.

But the truth had come out when they needed it, not when it was too late to help anyone, and it was so much more than just keeping Natasha’s birth mother or keeping his father’s past a secret from their own children. His father had to flee the only home and the only family he’d ever known at only thirteen because a man almost twice his age was threatened by his friendship with the girl he wanted, and Melina had to leave her best friend behind, knowing she would’ve likely been dead once Ivan found her. And it wasn’t just that, either. Melina must’ve been terrified of what Ivan would do to Alia for running in the first place, but Alia begged her to keep her daughter safe, and so Melina honored her plea. Even Edward, who had only known Alia for a short while, had to have been affected at leaving the mother of his child behind right after she’d given birth.

If telling the truth meant having to relive those memories, Steve would’ve been incredibly hesitant of it, too. That’s not something he or Nat, or Wanda or Pietro, would hold against their parents.

“Your mother knew, though,” his father adds after a moment, and Steve feels his heart trip in his chest as he stares back at his father. “She was the first to meet Melina.”

Steve feels his eyebrows furrow at this. He’s a few years older than Natasha, but not by much, which meant… “I thought you’d stopped seeing me and Mom by then?”

His father nods. “I had. We thought it would be safer, not just because of the Family, but also because I never knew for sure if Ivan was still looking for me. I also knew it was a lot for your mother to take in general, even if she’d never say it. She never would’ve asked to keep you away from me, but I knew she needed it to be that way, at least for a little while.” He rubs his lips together, looking Steve in the eyes as he adds, “I know that wasn’t a choice I should’ve made for her, for you. And to this day, I still wonder if it was the wrong one. I knew your mother was a tough person, tougher than both of us, but maybe I’d underestimated what she was willing to bear for me,” he admits quietly.

Steve doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until it comes out in a sharp exhale. “You thought she wouldn’t want to handle this life?” Steve asks.

His father rubs at his jaw, seeming to contemplate this. “I wondered a lot of things. Your mother was too good for this world from the beginning, but she’d also known who I was when we met. She’d chosen to trust me, and I respected her and her choice. I loved her. But I knew it all bothered her to some extent, especially when you came along.”

Steve swallows lightly. He’d like to believe his mother could’ve handled anything, but he also knows firsthand that this world is a lot at first glance. It’s still a lot once you’re on the inside, too, but his mother had been young and had her child to think of. She genuinely loved his father, but that didn’t mean she had to love his lifestyle, too.

And he knows his mother. If she let his father convince her that keeping Steve and herself from him and the Family was for the best, it was because part of her had believed it, too. If she wanted to raise Steve in this lifestyle for whatever reason that may have been, she would’ve fought her father like hell to stay and she would’ve won, too.

Like he said: she was tougher than both of them.

“How did she meet Melina, then?” Steve asks after a moment, already feeling a smile tug at his lips. He knows without a doubt his mother probably loved Melina.

She would’ve loved Natasha, too.

“By pure chance, actually,” his father answers, his own smile widening, too, as he glances down into his tea at the memory. “Your mother recognized Melina from the photograph I had and knew of her from the stories I told her, and we happened to run into each other in Brooklyn. It was the one and only time your mother and I had approached each other since we agreed to keep our distance. And they loved each other, of course, but I knew they would. You’d think they were the childhood friends.”

Steve chuckles at this, feeling a warmth squeeze at his chest. Somehow, he could almost picture the memory perfectly.

“Your mother and Alia would’ve loved each other, too,” his father adds, his smile softening as Steve stares back at him. “And Alia would’ve loved you.”

Steve reaches over, placing a hand on his father’s shoulder, and his father lifts his hand to grip Steve’s. “I would’ve loved her, too,” Steve says, giving him a squeeze, and his father lets out a breathy laugh as he nods.

... ...

She can feel Steve’s hand at her hip, his fingers calloused yet gentle and teasing as they toy with the hem of his shirt on her. Natasha had rolled onto her back sometime during the night, her shoulder practically pressing against Steve’s chest, and she feels her lips pull into a soft smile as he inches her shirt higher up her body, making her stomach flutter just under his palm when he splays his fingers over her skin. Then he dips his head to press a kiss to her cheek, her jaw, the column of her neck, feeling her pulse thrum under his lips, and she makes a soft noise when he hand dips down, fingers slipping under the waistband of her panties and pulling them down over one hip.

“Steve,” she breathes, feeling his mouth curve into a grin against her collarbone, and then his fingers hook under the other side of her panties, too, pulling them down her legs and then off entirely.

“Good morning,” he says into her skin, and she feels her smile widen, feels him nudge her legs open as his body slides down hers. He pushes her shirt up a little higher, kisses over one of her ribs, brushes his lips against an old scar on her other hip, and then his face is pressed against the inside of one of her thighs, lips quirking into a smile.

Her eyelashes flutter open as she lifts herself up on her elbows, glancing down to where Steve is settled between her legs, pressing one into the mattress as he pulls the other over his shoulders. She can already feel her breaths coming in a little shorter and shallower, feel her heart beating a little faster, even as a slow, almost lazy sort of smirk pulls at her lips as she meets his gaze. His mouth is hitched in that crooked, boyish sort of smile she’s come to love, but there’s nothing teasing about the heavy look in his eyes.

Under the darkening arousal, she can see the pure adoration in his gaze, reflecting her own. She knows, realistically, it’s only been a few days—but she can’t really remember what it was like to wake up without Steve beside her, to fall asleep to his large, warm body curling over hers, and she doesn’t want to remember, either.

“Good morning,” she breathes, reaching down to cup his jaw, rubbing her thumb against the corner of his mouth as it widens just a little more.

Then he’s dipping down, licking into where she’s warm and already a little wet for him, and she sucks in a breath, trapping it in her chest as her eyelashes flutter. She keeps her hand on his jaw, rubbing the budding stubble there, feeling it flex with every pass of his tongue against her, every little groan and lick and nibble, and it almost makes it feel heightened, somehow. She’s not quite holding onto him, but still, it feels as if he presses in closer at the exact moment her fingers twitch to drag him in, feels as if his licks linger when his tongue slides over a particularly sensitive spot that has her hand trembling to twist into his hair. She keeps her gaze on him as her vision grows blurry and her eyelids grow heavy, and then his eyes lick up to hers, sucking at her little bundle of nerves, and her head almost falls back as her body gently arches off of the bed.

He sucks at it again, her elbow nearly sliding out from under her, and then his tongue dips down and into her, and her lips part in a soft moan. And then his lips slide back up before she can find a rhythm, teasing her, tongue flicking against her hard bud right before he sucks it again, and she twists her neck to press her face into the pillow.

Again, and again, and again he works his mouth over her, groaning with her every little shift, sending delicious vibrations everywhere as she arches and rolls her hips—

And she doesn’t know if this morning feels different because of what happened yesterday, or if they feel different, but already it feels like too much, too fast, and she practically smothers herself with his pillow to muffle her voice as she bursts apart at the seams. White-hot pleasure crashes over her, rushing through her as he holds her to him, and she twists one hand into his sheets, the other braced against his headboard as she rides out her high and he coaxes every last drop of it out of her with a long groan.

Then he eases his mouth off of her, sliding his hands gently up and down her thighs, over her hips, almost soothing her as she shudders delicately from the pleasure. He kisses up her flushed skin, his lips brushing against almost every inch of it along the way, letting her catch her breath as he settles back over her.

He presses his face into her neck as she wraps her arms around his torso, kissing her there, too, and she lightly digs her nails into the muscles in his back.

“Good morning,” he says again, drawing a breathy chuckle from her that quickly dissolves into moan as she feels him between their bodies, hard and pressing right against her little bundle of nerves. His hand curves over her hip, gripping as he presses at her entrance, and then her body arches as best as it can under his as he slides in. She sinks her nails into his back a little harder as he sinks into her a little deeper, pausing as he slips all the way, and then his other hand is braced against the mattress, his mouth slanting over hers as he starts to move, and she very nearly whimpers into the kiss as he sweeps his tongue into her mouth at the same second he snaps his hips harder against hers.

They try to be slow at first, to savor it, but within seconds their kiss quickens, and then so do their bodies as they move against each other. Her chest squeezes, her lungs starting to sting just a little bit because she needs to take a breath, but she doesn’t pull away, not yet.

Not until a few moments later, when her second orgasm bursts through her, almost taking her by surprise as she twists her lips away from his to suck in a shaky breath. Pleasure rushes through her again, a little harder and a little faster now, her lips parting in a moan that seems trapped in her chest as she shudders under the white-hot waves crashing over her. He kisses her cheek, her neck, her shoulder, groaning words into her skin that she can’t quite hear over the blood pounding in her ears, but then she feels his body growing taut above hers, his hips growing more urgent, until he stiffens and buries his face into her neck, teeth sinking into her skin as his groans out in his release.

It’s a long, few moments before Natasha feels her breaths finally start to even out, feels his body finally start to ease above her, and then his tongue darts out, licking at the indent of his teeth in her skin before he lifts his head to peer down at her.

“A girl could get used to a wake-up call like that,” she breathes out, and even though her voice is light and teasing, she knows there’s something more in her own words.

And she knows that Steve can hear it, too, because the warmth fluttering in her chest is reflected in his eyes as he smiles down at her. He replies with a teasing, “I’ll keep that in mind,” but she can hear the promise in his voice, and she’s smiling when he dips his head down to kiss her.

... ...

“Hey, soldier,” a voice whispers in his ear, warm and teasing, and Steve feels his lips twitch into a grin as Natasha slides onto the stool beside his, setting an empty glass on the bar counter. He spins his barstool to face her, rubs his lips together in vain to hide his amusement, but even if he could manage a poker face around Nat, she’d still see it in his eyes that he doesn’t find her new little joke as annoying as he sometimes pretends. Somehow, she’d decided that his father being back to take over as head of the Family meant that Steve was no more than a soldier now, or less, considering he wasn’t technically a “made” man, and honestly? Steve is far more amused by how much delight Natasha takes in her own joke than the actual joke itself. “Can I buy a man a drink?” she asks, setting her hands atop his knees to lean in and brush a kiss to his lips.

“The drinks are free,” Steve points out, arching an eyebrow, and Natasha smirks, her eyes bright with amusement.

He remembers how she’d had that same twinkle in her eyes when they first met right in this restaurant, almost at this very spot at the bar just a few months ago. The place had been closed that day, too, though rather than catching it between the lunch and dinner rush, the restaurant is closed for the rest of the night.

And technically speaking, it’s closed for them, though Steve is starting to realize that the Family will find any and every excuse to gather together and celebrate.

“Shouldn’t you two be over there?” Pietro chimes in from behind the bar, pouring more water into Natasha’s empty glass before gesturing at the dining room filled with the rest of the Family, loud with excited chatter and the sound of the kids screaming. “Of course, if Howard is retelling how he kicked Anton’s ass, I’d be hiding here, too.”

Steve breathes out a laugh. Over a month later and both Howard and Tony still manage to bring up the story of officially kicking Anton and Ivan out of the state—hell, damn near out of the country—but then again, considering Anton had been a fundamental part of Stark Industries from the ground up, Steve doubts Howard will get over it anytime soon, or ever. Even if Howard had only really tolerated Anton these last few years, knowing that he had been betrayed for so long was a hard thing to get over. Howard may be more pissed than anything else right now, but some part of him is upset, too, just as Odin and Frigga must have been upset that Hela had been behind all the ambushes.

Steve half-expected Odin to argue against banning Hela from New York, but he had practically demanded to do it himself. Odin had been furious with his daughter, but at the end of the day, she’s still his daughter, and it’s probably easier for Odin to focus on her betrayal and her recklessness more than anything else.

“It’s a good story,” Sam comments, dropping into the stool on the other side of Nat, pulling Maria between his knees as she sips on the tumbler of rum in her hand.

“You only like it because you’re in it,” Maria retorts, and Sam hides his grin against her shoulder as she rolls her eyes, her lips twitching at the corners in a smirk. “Although, it does make for quite a tale. Two cops joining in on an old-fashioned mafia shakedown and chase? I still say you should let me publish an anonymous article on it.”

Sam just chuckles, knowing there’s no genuine threat behind her words, and then something catches his eye that makes him sit up a little straighter, flashing his teeth in a smile as he asks, “And where might you two be coming from?”

Steve turns to look over his shoulder as Wanda and Bucky step out from the kitchen, his sister tucked under his best friend’s arm. He has his head bent close to hers, likely to whisper something in her ear, but he straightens up at Sam’s comment, pressing his lips together as he shakes his head. Wanda’s cheeks are flushed, and yes, maybe Steve would feel wary about that, except he already has a pretty good idea on why Bucky might’ve wanted to steal Wanda away for a little while. He’d come to Steve and his father earlier that week about wanting Wanda to move in with him, not because he had been asking for permission or anything, because in the end, whatever she wanted was what he was going to give her, even if her father and brother were wary of it. But he’d wanted their honest opinion on whether they thought it would be too much, too fast for her.

Had it been a few weeks before, maybe it would have been. Steve still remembers how his sister sat in his kitchen and admitted that she didn’t see things going further between them. Even if he didn’t care about her being a mafia princess, she’d been worried about the Family never quite accepting him. But if Sam and Bucky helping to protect Wanda hadn’t been enough to earn the Family’s good graces, the evidence that they gathered against Anton, Ivan, and Hela to prove their betrayal would have.

“Pay attention to your own girl, Wilson,” Bucky counters, brushing a kiss to Wanda’s hair as she giggles. She pauses their stride as she turns to them, stretching on her toes to whisper in his ear, and he dips his head to kiss her, quick and hard, earning a half-hearted noise of protest from Pietro that has Wanda pulling away with another giggle.

Then she glides over to Natasha, taking her hand and giving it a tug. “They’re about to start slicing and serving cake, which means we need to do a toast!”

Natasha catches Steve’s gaze as Wanda starts to pull her onto her feet, her eyes sparkling, and Steve gives her a grin, grabbing their glasses as they all head back into the main dining room. It’s louder and warmer, and little Morgan Stark and Nathaniel Barton nearly trip him over as they run by, but it only makes Steve’s grin widen.

He joins Natasha where she’s standing at the head of the long table in the middle of the room, a few dozen faces staring back at them as they take their seats. He peers down at Nat as he hands over her glass, catching the way his mother’s ring twinkles on her finger under the bright glow of the chandeliers. Then he glances around the room, finding his father sitting further down the table, smiling at him from his seat between Howard and Melina. Across from them, Peter nudges Bucky with his elbow as he and Wanda sit with him, Peter whispering something that makes Bucky hide his laugh with a cough, and on his other side, Pepper and Tony laugh as Morgan practically climbs into Sam’s lap.

It quiets down as Steve lifts his glass, curving his hand over Nat’s hip and drawing her close as he thanks them for celebrating with them tonight, asking them to raise their glass in a toast to his father coming home safe, to Pietro’s quick recovery, and to his and Nat’s engagement.

“And to Family,” he finishes, peering down at Natasha.

“To Family,” she echoes, and there are cheers and clinks of utensils against glasses of wine right before his mouth slants against hers in a kiss. Then he feels Natasha smile against his mouth just as she parts their kiss a moment later, turning his head to bring her lips near his ear. “And when exactly do you want to tell them the Family is about to get a little bigger?” she whispers, and Steve breathes out a chuckle, pressing a kiss against her neck. If he thought he could get away with touching her stomach, he would’ve.

“This is the Family we’re talking about, Nat,” he points out, drawing back to catch her bright eyes, a warmth squeezing at his chest. “They probably found out a week ago.”

#romanogers #natasha romanoff #steve rogers #chanty writes #mafia 'verse

47 notes · View notes