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jimilter · 4 years ago

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riptide (m) | k.sj. | (1/2)

one | two

pairing: kim seokjin x reader

rating: m (18+)

genre: angst | smut | established relationship!au

summary: It takes a foolishly trivial incident to unravel how astonishingly little you and Seokjin actually understand each other. It has you questioning your relationship, and him? Well, he’s questioning his whole life.

warnings: swearing + implied alcohol consumption + realistic relationship problems + mentions of insecurities, jealousy, complicated mental dispositions + emotional distress + sexual situations (unprotected penetrative sex, dirty talking, a bit of manhandling, fingering) + mentions of masturbation + a ton of miscommunication (refer to the summary smh)

word count: 12.3 k

note: it’s FINALLY done, y’all! came up to be a monster of 25k words, so i decided to split it into two. i’ll drop the other part next week. this took a lot more time, energy and re-writing than i’d thought it would. i began writing this in january - it’s been five excruciating months! 😩 i really hope y'all will like this one~ 🥺💜

💟 YOUTH – 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

— masterlist

— feedback is always appreciated!

riptide (n) – a dangerous area of strongly moving water in the sea, where two or more currents meet.

Lady, running down to the riptide - Taken away to the dark side - I wanna be your left hand man.

The turn of events has been so fucking hilariously impossible that Seokjin has literally been rendered speechless. Which doesn't happen often, mind you. What can he do, he is just extremely witty—he always has something to say about everything, usually and preferably with impeccable comic timing. Especially when it comes to you.

This, though. This completely baffling scenario, right in front of him, has him gaping like a goldfish with no words to say.

"Final call, Jin. Gawk at me for five more seconds and I walk out of here," you threaten, an elegant arm poised at your waist and gorgeously plump lips pressed into a thin line. "Say something?"

And Seokjin still cannot formulate a single word, because what the actual fuck? How can you even think that he could ever—

"Alright." You catwalk out of his bedroom, leaving him blinking into space.

He jumps the next second, leaping after you. "Honey! How would—what—I can never—why do I even have to say—will you wait? You’re being so ridiculous, right now, I hope you know that!"

If he wasn't in such a fix, Seokjin would physically cringe at his speech. It was better when he was just gaping.

“Honey! Stop being so overdramatic, you’ve known me and you’ve known Jimin! For years! Stop acting like you seriously don’t know what happened, here!”

You don't stop, though, gliding down the stairs and hopping over the haphazardly tossed items in the living room as you exit out of the house.

And then you're gone. You're really gone, over something so fucking ridiculous, that Seokjin still has no words to say.

All he knows is that his girlfriend of five years has finally gone crazy enough to jump to conclusions of such high magnitude of stupidity.

And, that Park Jimin is a dead man.

It all begins on an unsuspecting Sunday morning, when the entire house is smelling of weed, stale booze and some worse fluids.

Last night, Seokjin vacated his own bedroom for the boys to smoke up in at Jimin's request, because that is the only well ventilated room of the house. He spent the night in Yoongi's room with earplugs in, dead to all the chaos in the house—as he often does on party nights—to catch up on his beauty sleep. He cannot afford any unbecoming dark circles or, God forbid, breakouts.

And no, that's not a comedic moment, he really does need his face looking perfect this week for reasons outside of personal gratification too, because he has a shoot on Tuesday. He especially took a leave from his part-time job at the Mexican restaurant downtown where his girlfriend, you, work full-time, on a Tuesday—saying goodbye to all the amazing tips always forwarded to the cooks on Taco Tuesday—for this. Nothing would mess up his face.

Not to mention that one very important audition for a very gigantic project he's been looking forward to. They're yet to announce the date, but it would be this very month. He hasn't really told you much about it, planning a huge surprise for later when—if, actually, but he prefers to be unrealistically optimistic in every situation possible—he bags the coveted position, at the end. He hasn't really decided upon much, other than a long drive and a picnic date to one of those grasslands on the city's outskirts that you love so much. Oh, and bringing up the prospect of moving in together in an apartment with just the two of you.

He's pretty certain you must not remember him raving about the opportunity, because it has been months since he did that. He then proceeded to be covert about all the mini auditions and trainings he underwent to prepare for the final audition, and he is confident you have not connected the dots.

But that is all a discussion for later — he doesn't even know when he would be auditioning.

The crux of the whole matter is that he needs to keep looking as flawless as he can until that audition happens.

So he has slept like a baby, last night, while the rest of his friends have partied, including two out of three of his housemates—Hoseok and Jimin—along with Taehyung and Taehyung's girl. Namjoon had foregone attendance in lieu of the Halloween party, next weekend, that he knows he would definitely be forced to attend because Hoseok is hosting. Yoongi, his third and final housemate, escaped the house altogether to spend a night of music-making with Jungkook in his dorm.

So, in the morning, when Seokjin is moving around his kitchen that seems to have been hit by a tornado, checking the fridge and mentally praying that his baggie of smoothie ingredients is still in good shape—a scream echoes around the house.

Seokjin freezes. That sounded a lot like…you.

Immediately alert, he runs out of the kitchen and into the drawing room. Hoseok is hanging upside down on one of the couches, something that looks a lot like undigested white sauce pasta puddles on the ground, inches from his new, fiery red hair. Seokjin grimaces.

"Kim Seokjin!" your screech tears the silence.

Seokjin twists on his heels, looking up in the direction of his bedroom. It really is you. And you're in his bedroom—the room he did not occupy last night.

God only knows what kind of a scene you have walked in on. He hopes these idiots didn’t have an orgy up there, although he really can’t put it past them.

Not waiting another second, Seokjin rushes up the stairs and pushes through the doors to his bedroom. His mouth falls open on an audible gasp.

You stand next to his bed, dressed up elegantly in a navy dress that ends above your knees—which makes him wonder if you are here for an impromptu breakfast date—with one hand clutching his duvet that has uncovered what looks like…

…a head of long, dirty blonde hair.

Who the fuck?

In his bed?

"Hey, Honey!" Seokjin's voice is a squeak. "You… you here for a date?" he manages out of a suddenly parched throat.

You roll your eyes. "Uh huh. A fact you would've known if you looked at the texts I sent you last night." Your eyes are narrow at him. "This explains why you didn't, though. Busy night, Jin?"

He balks at your words, at a loss. How could you even think it was him, when you know all about Park Jimin and his escapades?!

Seokjin's blood boils. Fucking Jimin. There is going to be blood on Seokjin’s hands.

In the midst of it, the blonde head shifts.

Soon after, as you two watch, a pair of brown eyes with smudged makeup emerge from inside Seokjin's bed—and the audacity?! There’s makeup all over his covers! Jimin will pay for the dry cleaning. The face is followed by a whole, tiny woman of five-something feet who is, thankfully, covered in a shirt.

Seokjin is almost not breathing when the blonde starts to give him a dreamy smile, his gaze switching between her and you. And it’s extremely stupid, because he hasn’t seen this woman before, ever, in his entire life. But he catches the way your arms fall to your sides and those elegant, dainty fingers of yours ball up into fists as you look at the blondie’s face.

Fortunately, the girl recognises him at last before her grin could turn fully dopey, and with a squeak, jumps out of the bed. “You’re not—um. Hi. Sorry, I, uh. I’ll get going.”

And surprisingly, she does exactly that in less than a minute, leaving you to stare down at Seokjin.

“You know, it’s really unbecoming for a girlfriend to keep finding girls in her boyfriend’s bed every other week and not be given an explanation, ever.” Your tone is teasing, but your eyes are taunting. “You shouldn’t always be so dismissive, you know? What if I start getting ideas? I don’t think you even remember how to make up with your girlfriend, at this point, because I never fight.”

That is when Seokjin starts gawking. And literally doesn’t stop until you’ve left the house.

“I don’t get it,” Jackson says, stuffing cold noodles into his mouth and chewing on them without closing it. “Do you think he cheated on you, or do you not think he cheated on you?”

You look at your best friend with your face twisted up in disgust. You swear to God you would never have agreed to make friends with this guy on your mother’s insistence when the Wang family moved in next doors to you, had you known he’d turn out to be such a barbarian a decade later. Twelve-year-old Jackson had been such a decent kid—studious, elegant, well-mannered. What went wrong, along the way?

You exhale, shifting on your chair, very wary of any dried up fluids that you might come in contact with. “I know he did not cheat on me, Jax, the very notion is completely ridiculous.”

Jackson stops chewing and looks away from the WWE match playing on the TV to squint at you. “I’m…confused? Wait. What is the problem, then? What are you mad at him for?”

To be completely honest, you aren’t quite certain yourself.

But you do know that you don’t feel good. And that this feeling has been building up over a couple months, but you have only really acknowledged it head-on, today, in all five-something years of your relationship. Five years, seven months and eight days, to be exact, but that’s kinda besides the point.

You’ve had at least a few months’ worth of buildup that has gotten you to this point, you would admit. Especially after Seokjin had to cancel that visit to your hometown at the end of June, for your parents’ thirty-fifth wedding anniversary celebration because he had an important audition for a big-brand ad film. The cancellation was acceptable, but his offhand comment that, “thirty-five isn’t even that special, we’ll get them a huge gift for their fiftieth,” stayed with you longer than it should’ve. Things got okay-ish when you reminded yourself how Seokjin never really thought too hard about things he said, always being a humorous, unattached clown in every situation. But this morning's dismissal has pushed you over that edge. You straightaway goaded him, claiming he doesn’t remember how to make it up to you, and all you got in response was his shock and being called “ridiculous” and “overdramatic.” Fun.

You were most certainly joking, if a bit caustically, when you said what you did. He could have taken it as a joke and laughed it off. He could have taken it as a threat and comforted you, said it was Jimin that used his room, and maybe kissed you. You already knew what had happened when you saw the girl, anyway. But this was probably the third time this situation had happened, this month.

Sure, you are understanding and really do know Jimin and what all he gets up to, but is that really supposed to be such a given? Asking your boyfriend to hug you close and kiss your forehead when you discover a girl in his bed just as you were about to cuddle the lump of sheets thinking it was him, is not too much to expect, is it?

Granted, Seokjin has never been extremely expressive, but still. It feels like he’s consciously trying to keep you at a distance, these past few months.

You don’t have the complete grasp of the storm of thoughts in your head yet, but you want to try and explain it to Jackson the best you can.

“It was about respect, in a way, I guess,” you quietly mumble, and Jackson turns the TV off, now sitting cross legged on the couch to face your chair. He puts away his takeout container to frown at you, probably gleaning how serious this is for you. “He stood there, without saying a single word, expecting me to stop being mad. Almost willing me to stop being mad by making these big, incredulous eyes at me. Like it was that horrible of his girlfriend to demand for an explanation when she found a girl in his bedroom. It was just the two of us, I wasn’t making a scene in front of anybody. He just—ugh! He could’ve simply asked me to not be mad, said it was Jimin who spent the night in the room and maybe even laughed about it, or plotted Jimin’s murder—I would’ve joined in—but no. He acted like I was being stupid, told me not be ridiculous and dramatic. And that made me feel really stupid.”

Jackson winces. “And why do you think you were not being stupid?”

You exhale. “I wasn’t. Because I wasn’t actually accusing him of anything, and five years down the lane, he should know that now. I just wanted him to say it and not scold me when I tease-taunted him. He always expects me to know everything. And even though I always do, it gets tiring sometimes. These weird thoughts get to you — that maybe you’re being too understanding and he’s using that to his advantage, you know?” You look down at your lap, playing with your nails. “It’s just…um. I wanted him to coddle me, I guess. To treat this as something big because I was throwing a tantrum about it and, just, I don’t know—try to cajole me? Assuage me with his words, maybe? But he didn’t. Because he hasn’t done that in forever. Because I never need him to, because I always freaking understand everything!” A sob leaves you.

Jackson pats the place next to him. “C’mere, you dumdum, and stop hyperventilating,” he mumbles, hugging you to his side when you move to sit on the couch. “I don’t exactly understand how the relationship dynamics work, but from what you told me, I get that you wanted attention? Some loving? And instead you got disappointed looks because Jin expected you to be mature and rational about it — the way you always are — and that too with his fucking eyes and some low-key insult words? Is it something like that?”

Wow, Jackson really paraphrased all that amazingly. “Yes, actually. It’s exactly that.”

Jackson sighs. “Y’all have been together a long time, babe, so I guess it’s kind of a given that you’d get to a no-bullshit point. Which is why he hasn’t done that in forever, because y’all probably don’t need that kinda stuff between you anymore.”

“I get that, it’s how a relationship matures. But I’m pretty certain that it’s not supposed to make me feel like this,” you sound slightly muffled, having stuffed your face into Jackson’s hoodie-covered chest. “I feel—I feel like we got too comfortable and now he’s just started to take me for granted. And I also feel like I’m being too needy. Am I being needy and annoying? He’d hate me if I told him all this, won’t he? Half of the reason we’ve worked out so well is because we’re both career oriented and don’t waste time overthinking stupid shit.” You gasp. “Oh, no—would he leave me? He’s used to his girlfriend being mature, not needy—”

You are cut off when Jackson pulls you away by your shoulders, giving you a serious look. “Wait, wait, stop. What did you say? Not the needy part, you’re allowed to be needy once in all the damn three-sixty-five days y’all stay busy for. The…taking you for granted part. Pretty big of a thing to say, babe.”

You sigh. “We haven’t been on an actual date in months. Seokjin thinks there’s no need for that extra effort when we spend lunch breaks at work together, everyday. Outside of the restaurant, our meetings involve our entire flock of friends by default. It’s been three months since we slept together.” You sniff, hating having to impart such a private detail of your life. “So no, I don’t think it’s that big of a thing to say, at all.”

“Wow.” Jackson gives a slow whistle. “You’ve really been bottling up a lot in there, huh?”

You shrug. “I guess. It never made me feel underappreciated, though. Sure, I was irritated at some occasions and disappointed at others, but… Today I feel horrible, Jax.”

“Did you share anything with Byulyi?” he asks, referring to your flatmate and good friend since college.

You shake your head. “She already has a lot on her plate, right now. She got rejected by the photographer she wanted to intern with, so it’s back to freelancing for her.”

“Yeah, that must suck.” Jackson grimaces. Then he looks at you. “You need to take a break, hun. Sit back, today, and have tacos and beer with me. Reset your inner thoughts. Talk to Jin tomorrow. Although, I must say, it’s kinda depressing that you have to actually tell your boyfriend that he’s being a bad boyfriend. Isn’t that kind of shit supposed to be realized on your own?”

You purse your lips. “I guess, yeah. But…don’t say that he’s being a bad boyfriend, Jax. I don’t think he even realizes something is wrong.”

“And that…doesn’t make it worse?” At your raised eyebrows, he concedes with a roll of his eyes. “Fine, fine, in any case — maybe try to hint at it before you dive straight in with the kill? See if he reacts?”

“I don’t know, Jax. What if he doesn’t? He’s really not the best at taking hints and reading signs, or that kind of subtle stuff.”

“Then you can just say your shit. All I’m saying is, give him a chance to figure it out on his own. He’s probably really clueless why you reacted so big on something so small, this morning. If you drop hints, maybe he’ll feel it out.”

You nod, somewhat amazed at how sound Jackson’s advice seems. “How are you doing this, Jax? Being a love guru all of a sudden?”

Jackson scoffs. “I’m just tryna put myself in Seokjin’s shoes. If I was in the situation he’s in, this is what I’d like to happen — be given a window to figure out what’s wrong. You’ve been together a long time, hun. It really shouldn’t be that difficult for him.”

You shrug a shoulder. “I won’t be too sure about that. Why does it even matter if he can or cannot, though?”

Jackson seems to be mulling over something before he drops his chin to his chest. “Because you’re supposed to be partners, hun. If you can tell what’s up with him with a single glance, why can't he? Not being good at taking signs is not a good enough excuse. My gut says that he’d be able to, though. And that knowledge will make you feel infinitely better, trust me. It’ll be reassuring to learn that he really knows and understands you well, won’t it?”

You nod, slowly, but you still have your suspicions. Seokjin has just been the kind of guy whose emotional depth goes to a certain extent and then just — well, stops. There are things that he feels and realizes and sees, and there are things that he doesn’t. It isn’t even something he does, you believe. It’s just how he is. Certain feelings just don’t fall in his orbit. And you’ve never found there to be anything wrong with it when he’s been an immaculately amazing boyfriend and tended to every single one of your needs, always. Well, you have never actually needed emotional consoling, too, so you haven’t had the chance to audition him for that. You keep yourself too busy for all that unnecessary mental pressure. It comes as a surprise, but you have never cried on Seokjin’s shoulder in all these years of your togetherness. You’ve kept your head straight and chin up, even during your college exams. And so has Seokjin, because you’ve never seen him cry, either.

Lately, though, things have been kind of weird. The gradual transformation into your professional lives that began after college, has been drastic in the past few months. Seokjin has been constantly prioritizing his career over you, and you have been understanding about it because you agree with it — to an extent. Seokjin believes it all the way through, though, and you have known for a while that you would hit your limit at some point, and would try to bring him back to yourself. Today morning, it seems, you hit that limit.

You felt dispensable.

You hate this feeling.

To be very honest, you know you can get over this. You can give it some time, remind yourself of how much your Jin loves you, believe that he is eventually going to come back to you once he settles, and be understanding about the entire thing.

You can — but you really don’t want to.

Something tells you that this feeling of getting too comfortable will only fester and take a worse form as time goes by. You can wait it out, sure, and hope you aren’t being a pushover as he works on building his career. You are building your career, too, after all, and at least some of it has been for each other.

The thing is, your plans with Seokjin are long-term—marriage, kids, white-picket fence, and all that. And you believe that if you are sensing a problem now, you better deal with it now before it has the chance to change its form and affect you both when you are at a more responsible point in your life.

Mind made up, you look up at Jackson, immediately grimacing when he forwards a greasy hand to pick up a taco for you. “I don’t…I don’t like tacos. And may I exchange the beer for scotch?”

“You work at a Mexican restaurant, and you don’t like tacos,” Jackson deadpans.

“They mess up my skincare.”

“Oh, fuck off! Have a spinach smoothie with a drink, why don’t you?”

You purse your lips to hold back your laughter at his ire, your own worries forgotten in the moment as Jackson gets up to get you a glass of scotch and some healthier snacking alternative.

“You're a dead man.”

Jimin stops dead in his tracks, arms frozen in the act of putting a t-shirt on. He blinks at Seokjin with big round eyes. “Hyung?” he mumbles, a picture of unblemished innocence, especially when he covers his toned torso with the oversized t-shirt he was in the process of getting into. “What—what’d I do?”

Someone who doesn’t know better would never believe that this young, innocent, frazzled haired fairy-boy could ever do any wrong. But Seokjin knows better. “You chaotic womanizer,” Seokjin nearly hisses, "you've gotta learn to clean after yourself. Honey found a girl in my bed. A girl—in my bed.”

Jimin had the decency to drop the innocent act. “Oh. Oh.”

Seokjin raises a brow. “Oh? That’s it?”

"Yeah, well, I clarified to her that it was a one time thing when we got to it. She was obviously expecting something more if she didn't leave when I told her to. Disappointed but not surprised." Jimin is frowning when he comes to sit down on the couch next to Seokjin. “Sorry you two had to see that. You clarified to Honey noona that I’d been the occupant of the room, though, right?”

“I—what?” Seokjin scoffs. “Why would I even need to do that? She knows that already, obviously. She’s been seeing you for over five years, or have you forgotten?”

Jimin squints. “I mean…okay, fair point, I guess. Why’re you so worked up, then? Did something else happen, too? Where’s she, now?” Jimin looks around the living room as if looking for you.

Seokjin sighs. “Well, I couldn't really get much out before she was storming out of the damn house, altogether.”

Jimin blinks. “Storming out? Why? She… um, was she mad?"

Seokjin opens his mouth – and then shuts it. Was she mad, indeed. "I don't know. She looked kinda mad, yes. But maybe she was in a hurry?"

"Why would she be mad? Did you try to call her? Text her? It's unlike her to react so big on something so small." Jimin bites down on his lip, looking lost in thought.

Seokjin shakes his head. "She didn't pick up or text back."

“There’s definitely got to be an underlying reason for her being like this. Are you sure you guys haven’t been fighting, hyung?”

Seokjin sighs. “Yes, Jimin, I’m absolutely certain that there hasn’t been any fighting of any sorts between the two of us before today.” He pauses. “Well, she was slightly irritated that I didn’t check her texts last night, but she knows I go to bed at eleven on days leading up to a shoot, so that one’s on her.”

Jimin looks genuinely concerned, which, in turn, makes Seokjin concerned. Jimin isn't the type to stress over stuff if he can help it. Sure, he cares about the boys and would always be down to do whatever he can for them, but his throwing-caution-to-the-wind way of life causes him to not take most of the things in life seriously.

You’ve been like an older sister to the boys ever since Seokjin started dating you and introduced you to them. They all have their ways of showing their respect and affection to you. Well, maybe not Jungkook because he can’t get over getting unnecessarily intimidated by Seokjin enough to relax around you.

Jimin, especially, always seems to be affected by any tension in Seokjin’s relationship. Everyone can see how it upsets his entire life when you two are fighting, although he’d never admit to it. He doesn’t need to, because it’s pretty obvious when he becomes a cranky six-year-old who hates the world.

Right now, he has a guilty frown on his face. "I should've seen to it that Suzette left before I went to shower," he mumbles as if talking to himself. “Shouldn’t have trusted her to leave just because I told her to.” He looks up at Seokjin with troubled eyes. "I'm sorry, hyung."

Seokjin can not believe himself when he shakes his head at Jimin's apology—this little demon causes so much chaos in all their lives that any apology coming from him should be justified and welcome. But this one isn't really on him. "It's not entirely your fault."

Jimin's demeanor changes a bit and the attitude Seokjin is used to witnessing makes an appearance. "Right? That's what I was thinking, too!" Jimin exclaims, some of the concern on his face lifting. "You have to talk to Honey noona and make things right, though, hyung. She’s the only womanly touch in our man cave. We’d all be barbarians without her.” Jimin looks very wary and kind of nervous.

“It’s funny you would crave her ‘womanly’ presence when she’s rushed off because of a woman that you brought home.” Seokjin scrunches his nose. "And I said it isn't entirely on you, because it is partially on you, Park Jimin. You borrowed my room to smoke up in. Why couldn't you take your Suzy back to your own room?"

"Suzette," Jimin corrects under his breath while shaking his head. "Yeah, I should've, but… your room just felt like a better choice during the high," he finishes in a mumble, dragging a hand down his face. “Hyung,” Jimin says with a pout on his lips, “the last time you two fought was two years ago, remember? On your birthday? When Hobi hyung dumped cake in noona’s hair and she had her first shoot for that bigshot magazine, the next day?”

Seokjin nods with a sigh. “She yelled at me for having stupid friends, and I yelled at her for caring more about the shoot that having a good time on my birthday. Yes, I remember.”

“And then she didn’t visit us for a whole week. Please don’t let that happen, again.” Jimin looks up at Seokjin with big, round eyes. “I can’t take that kind of unrest in my life."

Seokjin briefly wonders, if Jimin’s nightly conquests were to see this side of him, would they run in the opposite direction or be more attracted to him? Jimin definitely needs someone in his life that would bring out this side in him and stay to provide him the emotional comfort he requires when he gets like this.

“I will try not to, Jiminie, but…” Seokjin shuts his eyes. “I seriously do not understand her actions from the morning,” he finishes in a mumble.

“Maybe she’s—maybe she’s worried about something else? Some other aspect of her life?” Jimin suggests with wide eyes. “And she’s just projecting onto you.”

“As sound as the explanation is, I am literally involved in ninety percent of the aspects in her life,” Seokjin says with a twist to his lips. “I would know if something was wrong anywhere.”

“That’s cocky of you to say,” Jimin snarkily comments with narrowed eyes. At Seokjin’s raised eyebrows, he amends, “That’s cocky of you to say, hyung-nim.”

Seokjin scoffs, but then he shrugs his shoulders. “It’s true. We work at the same restaurant, we’re scouted by the same agency. Even her agent is best friends with mine—she gossips a ton about how Honey passes up so many opportunities and pisses her agent off. Her friends are, well—” Seokjin stops short when it hits him. “Wang. Wang could know something!”

Jimin is looking at him skeptically when Seokjin meets the younger’s eyes. “I just think you should have a simple talk with noona first before digging around.”

That is sensible advice. Seokjin nods as he pulls his phone out.

“Just find out what’s been troubling her, hyung. You two are rational people, I’m sure you’ll work it out.” Jimin pauses to scratch the back of his head. “Just please don’t let this be another fight like that one?”

“Don’t worry,” Seokjin finally says with a pat on Jimin’s shoulder as he finishes sending off another text to you, “this one is nothing like that fight.”

Turns out, this fight really is not like that one. Or any other fights Seokjin has ever had with you, in fact, because you’re giving him the silent treatment.

You’ve never given him the silent treatment.

Not even when you were students and didn’t have a load of time on your hands and used to waste precious sleep hours arguing over stupid shit that would probably resolve itself if you just slept on it and looked back at it with a fresh state of mind. Not even then did you forego talking.

Needless to say, Seokjin is distressed.

You drive to the house to pick him up at your usual time, the next morning, after not having responded to any of his calls or texts for the entire day. Seokjin is aghast as he gets into the car.

“Honey! What is going on? Why didn’t you—where have you been?”

You simply start the engine and take off. “Busy,” you murmur after a while.

Soekjin’s head is close to exploding. “Busy? Doing what?”

Your face remains stoic as you weave through the morning traffic. Seokjin looks at you. You’re dressed up in your waitressing outfit that consists of a shirt, skirt and tights, and being who you are, Seokjin can proudly say that you would stand out to be the most well dressed server in the field. You’re always pristine and tidy — no accidents happen to you at the job ever. No spillage of drinks or ketchups, no soiled hands being wiped down on your skirt. Nothing even ruins your manicure.

It is something that Seokjin has always tried to keep up with, this cleanliness streak of yours. Because he has always assumed you would expect it out of him, too. You were attracted to the cover model version of him, after all. It is quite natural that you would have those kinds of expectations. And Seokjin has always been more than happy to deliver. It has become a part of him, in fact. He doesn't even chew with his mouth open even when he's among the boys, anymore.

It has, somewhat, made him practical and less emotional in life, too, but he doesn't really think of it as a bad thing. You have always been practical in life – the most ambitious girl he has ever met, someone that has always prioritized her career and goals over everything else. Seokjin has admired that since college, and has tried to show you that he has similar priorities even if he has had to work on thinking from his mind more than his heart.

But when you are already by his side, what does he even need his heart for, anymore, when it's already yours?

Now, looking at you sitting with a morose expression on your face as you give him the cold shoulder, Seokjin is just as much in love with you as he was when he first met you.

“Stuff,” you say with a shrug, after some extended silence. “You should know about that, right? Your schedule’s always busier than mine and I never complain.”

Your sharp words have him reeling. Whatever do you even mean by that? “Uhm, okay. Fair enough. But… did you really not have the time to respond to a single text?”

“It gets impossible sometimes, Jin, you know how it is.”

Seokjin frowns. He does know that, but he doesn’t feel okay. Something is very off with you. It is as if you’re saying something else and expecting him to discern a different meaning out of it.

He doesn’t understand why, though. You, of all people, should know how terrible he is at decoding signs.

He sighs.

Seokjin, after his conversation with Jimin yesterday, had decided to ask you about the morning’s incident, head on, whenever you called him back. But you didn’t, and this is the first opportunity he’s had to talk to you, so he decides to bring it up, now. “What—what happened yesterday morning, babe? You got really mad and stormed off, and… I mean, you’ve got to know the girl had been Jimin’s companion for the night, right? You know him, how he is!”

You say nothing, hands tightening a bit on the steering wheel. Seokjin looks down at his own hands.

“You know I was only surprised at your words because we really do not have the time to be discussing silly things." He shuts his heart down when it tries to tell him to go soft. He knows it isn't something you would appreciate. "After five years, you know what I’m capable of right? You can never start getting ideas, because that would be insane and stupid. I’m already so supremely occupied as it is between two jobs, when would I even have the time to cheat, right?” he jokes, snorting to himself.

You’re still quiet, but your tongue comes out to moisten your lips. It is a nervous tick of yours which Seokjin recognizes very well, because with your skincare and scheduled regular application of lip balms, your lips never need the extra moisture.

He frowns. Was he too straightforward? But this is exactly how you communicate with him! “Hey, is everything okay, babe?”

You exhale, noisily. “Everything’s fine, Jin,” you finally say with a roll of your eyes. “And you’re right. I know you wouldn’t cheat. You don’t have the time to chat me up, how are you gonna pick someone new to impress, huh?”

Your snort sounds lacking in humor, but Seokjin still gives a couple of stilted chuckles. Even so, he's still somewhat relieved. “Right. Just so we’re certain, that was a joke, right? I mean, it would be really ridiculous of you to think that I would—”

“Yes, Jin!” you cut him off with a deep frown. “If I wanted to talk to you about something, or accuse you, or confront you — I’d do that without you having to prompt me. Stop obsessing over yesterday and stop trying to explain yourself. I know it was Jimin’s doing.”

Seokjin feels immensely relaxed at the conviction with which you say the last sentence, certainly, but something is still off. “Why were you ignoring me, then?”

“I just didn’t have anything to say to you.” You stop at a red light, the last one before you reach the restaurant, and turn to look at Seokjin with really vacant eyes. He doesn’t like your stare one bit. “We’ve been together five years, babe. If neither of us have got anything of significance to say, I’d rather not text too much, if that’s okay with you? I’ve got a busy schedule to work around, too, you know?”

Seokjin wants to remind you that both of you had something of significance to say after you left his place in anger, but chooses to just roll with whatever you’re playing at. Maybe he's thinking too much. He nods. “Sounds alright to me.”

“Great,” you breathe out, somehow looking disappointed along with the preexisting sorrowful expression you had on your face.

You really do not have a concrete explanation for why you acted the way you did with Seokjin, this morning.

You were supposed to hint at being mad, not blatantly try to give him a taste of his own medicine. It could turn out to be a good thing if he eventually starts to miss you and reaches out, sure, but playing mind games never feels right to you. But when he started to joke about not having time to cheat, and something just turned off in you. He really could’ve seriously reassured you of his love. That would’ve been actually comforting. But no. He chose to joke about that, too. You didn’t feel like putting in all that energy anymore, after that.

Now, you sit down in the break room to check your phone during your ten minutes’ rest break. A text message floats at the top of your notifications.

Jax 🚽 Hey How’d it go?

With an exhale, you decide to call him back. Your fingers are too tired to type, and Jackson is sure to launch off into a rampage of texts the moment you tell him you’ve tried to turn the tables on Seokjin.

Seokjin is in the kitchen, his usual rest break not being for another hour, so you don’t have to worry about him walking in.

“Hey!” Jackson jovially greets you as soon as he picks the phone. “Did you get my text?”

“I did, yes,” you respond in a calm voice. “I’ve been looping milkshake mugs through my fingers since eight am, they needed some rest, so I decided to call.”

“Yeah, no, it’s cool. I was in a really boring class, anyway. So. How'd it go?"

You pull in your lip between your teeth. "I… I kinda ended up telling him I am a busy person too and that we shouldn’t text that much."

You hear silence instead of the outburst you'd expected.

"Jax?"

"Are you actually gonna try to play a mind game with the dumbest human being you know on earth?" Jackson so very eloquently asks, his interpretation making you pinch the bridge of your nose. “He’s never even gonna figure it out!”

“I know how it sounds, okay?” You exhale. “I honestly don’t know what came over me.”

“Okay, alright, one thing at a time. So, no coddling?"

"Not a single soft word. Just more expectations of me understanding, and claiming that anything but that would be stupid of me. He acts like I'm supposed to know everything about him and everyone in his group of friends," you mutter in irritation. “As if those dumbasses know the first thing about themselves.”

You realize you're being a bit harsh, because his friends – basically your younger brothers, at this point – are a bunch of clueless idiots that love, adore and respect you. You shouldn't be badmouthing them, Seokjin’s growing callousness towards you isn't their doing. It's his own.

You sigh. You really miss how things used to be when you were in college.

“Uh, I think we need to rewind a bit. What happened? What triggered this?”

It makes you smile a little when Jackson asks that. At least your best knows you’re not wholly clinically insane. “Well… I drove him to work. He…" your brows lower at the recollection, "he was the first to bring up yesterday morning. And yet again, he gave me the same you've got to know this and that crap, and then he tried to assure me in the dumbest possible way. Do you know what he said, Jax, do you?”

“Um, do I wanna know?”

“He said, and I quote, he doesn’t have the time to cheat. Jackson Wang, are you hearing this? He really straight up said he was too busy to cheat on me and so I should rest assured! Who says that?!”

“He must’ve meant it as a joke—”

“Yeah, he said that, too, and then very immaculately added that it’d be ridiculous of me to think otherwise. I have lost count of how many times the words ridiculous and stupid came up.”

“Goddammit.”

“Goddammit is right,” you mumble, morosely resting your head on your palm.

“What did he say, by the way? When you told him to text less?”

You give a wry chuckle. "Well, he said it sounded alright to him."

"Son of a bitch. You – you two are messed up, man. Messed up bad. Why the hell can you not just say shit you really mean and actually want to instead of saying shit you don't? You don't wanna text less because you're busy, you want him to dote on you because you miss him!" Jackson sounds beyond frustrated. "And it doesn't fucking sound alright to him! It sounds scary, it sounds confusing, it sounds like something you would never say to him!" He groans. "But none of you would say that shit to each other! You’re choosing to be evasive and fucking plastic instead of honest, and falling deeper into your mess."

You reel from the onslaught of his harsh words, eyes widened and breath stuttering. Jackson isn't usually the type to pay so much attention to your relationship problems. But this time, you guess, he has garnered the depth of your unhappiness and thus has gotten so involved.

You realize he is right. Nothing good can come out of any turned tables, because Seokjin is, anyways, not even going to be able to work out the problem by himself. He may even go around talking to his friends about how you were being cold with him and not giving him any time, and still not realize he has been doing the same to you. He is thick like that.

When his friends tell you tales of his compassion, you're unable to relate. You've never seen that side of him. He has probably grown up from that emotionally overwhelmed high school graduate who had made friends on a whim, the night of his graduation.

You certainly don't appreciate the emotional abstinence, though, and would very much rather prefer if he would open up a bit more. It would help you be more open with him, without fearing him calling you "stupid" in response.

But it’s still alright, you accept him with that thick brain of his, because he’s still only ever going to be the only one for you.

"How are you two gonna get around to having a proper chat if you just keep building more walls between you both?" Jackson asks after the long pause from your end, this time softer. “I’m sorry, babe, I was wrong. Giving him signs and making him realize shit won’t work. It was stupid of me to suggest that. It’s probably why you ended up being so caustic with him.

“No, no, it was all me, Jax. I could’ve chosen to not listen to you, but my ego got in the way, I guess. It’s not exactly easy, telling your boyfriend you’re feeling neglected. I mean, what if he laughs in my face and tells me I’m being paranoid? What if he thinks I have no regard for his career — or mine — because my priorities don’t align with his?” You bite your lip, shutting your eyes as your insecurities attack you.

“Hey, no. None of that is gonna happen if you really share with him what you’ve been feeling. No hints, no sarcasm, you’re gonna have to tell him point blank. Allow yourself to be raw. He’s the love of your life. You don’t have to protect yourself from him, right?”

You sigh. “Yeah, I know. You’re absolutely right, Jax. But I really have no idea how to even approach him, at this point. He’s either too busy with shoots, or with the guys, or some meeting. I cannot do this on call, because that always leads to misunderstandings.” You bite down on your lower lip, contemplating. “But I’ll figure something out.”

"Yes, you will. You always do. So, that’s good then. In the meanwhile, can you at least clean up this latest pile of poop? The talking less thingy is gonna make you two more distant, hun."

You scrunch your nose at his metaphor, but then your shoulders slump. "I don't know, Jackson. The way he so impassively agreed to it would make me sound really stupid if I take it back. And given what he keeps saying, he really doesn’t want me to sound stupid."

Jackson gives a snort at that. “Hah, funny. But listen. At the end of the day, he’s your boyfriend. You're gonna have to really decide if you're trying to get your boyfriend to give you more love, or if you're fighting a battle of egos and would like to bend him to you."

You bite your lip. “You make me sound manipulative.”

“You yourself confessed you let your ego come into this, one time. Don’t let that happen again. I’m trying to make you realize that complicated problems can have simple solutions, too. If only you’d communicate. Just talk to him soon, please, and make him understand why you’re hurt. Don’t carry on with this stupid cold war, okay? You gotta figure out exactly what you want, first.”

“You know what I want, Jax. You’re literally the only person that does, actually,” you remind him with a sigh.

“Oh, he is, isn’t he?”

You freeze, eyes bulging at the familiar voice. “I’ll… I’ll call you back,” you mumble before you disconnect the call and turn to look over your shoulder at Seokjin’s unreadable face. He stands with his arms crossed, still in his uniform but without the apron. “Jin… what—uh…”

“What am I doing here?” he scoffs, lips curling in distaste as he stares you down. “Well, I was going to the loo when I saw you sitting here. You looked upset, so I thought I’d check in on you on my way back.” He clicks his tongue, a dry chuckle tumbling out. “But apparently, you’ve got other people doing it for you, already.”

You wince, shutting your eyes. The one time he was finally going to give you some much needed attention — you sent a bad message his way.

“So. Good to know there actually is someone who knows what you want. Would’ve been easier if it were me, though, given how I stand to be the one that is to deliver.” Seokjin sounds pissed off, and despite your irritation, you really want to make him understand.

You rub at your forehead. “Stop talking like that, Jin, it was just Jackson.”

“Wang?” He seems to seethe more, for some reason. “Of course, it’s fucking Wang!”

You frown, standing up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Seokjin looks at you incredulously. “You—do you not see how this looks? You have problems with me, Honey, but you choose to discuss them with him? Who’s he, your therapist?”

“He’s my best friend, Jin, someone I trust,” you grit out.

Seokjin seems to take it the wrong way, his agitated expressions slowly fading into a blank stare. “Oh. You trust him, as opposed to…” He trails off with a shrug, but the implication is as obvious as it can be.

“Jin—”

He raises a hand up, palm facing you as he looks away. “If you need some time apart, you should tell me in plain words. You know I’m not good at reading signs.”

Seokjin gives you a blank stare before turning around to leave the area. You stand rooted to your place, jaw dropped and eyes wide.

Some time apart? Has he lost his mind?

He really is a huge freaking idiot who cannot pause to think what implications his words have. He seriously doesn’t recognize what all his “don’t be ridiculous/overdramatic/stupid” speeches do to you. You realize you should really make him understand. This has gone on for way too long.

But maybe you should take some time to yourself to cool off before that. You don’t want to say the wrong thing in your rage and complicate things further.

You sigh to yourself as you slump back into the bench you were sat on before.

You’d set out to tell your boyfriend you were feeling neglected, but you ended up making him think you want to be apart. How the heck did you get here?

You belatedly recall Jackson's words.

Why the hell can you not just say shit you really mean and actually want to instead of saying shit you don't?

You’re choosing to be evasive and fucking plastic instead of honest, and falling deeper into your mess.

Your usually dumbheaded best friend was right on this one, you realize. You should’ve just talked like a normal human being instead of letting Seokjin’s words get to you and get pissy in retaliation.

You give a weary sigh.

Seokjin is grateful for the sudden busyness he’s got on his schedule, or he would explode from all the pent up frustration you have been causing him.

He realized he wasn’t as upset with you as he was irritated, right after he walked away from you on Monday. He dropped you a text with some excuse of needing to stay back so that he wasn’t forced to ride with you in the car again, and later took the bus home.

You had told Jackson Wang about what was troubling you, but not him. It made Seokjin feel upset, incompetent and more than a little insecure. Seokjin absolutely hates feeling insecure. Especially about you. You’re the singular most precious entity in his life — not that you are an entity, per se — and anything that seeks to threaten your position in his life or his position in yours, makes him lose his shit.

So it was understandable that he jumped to unfairly disproportionate magnitudes of conclusions that day. When he thought about it, later, he could easily tell that you are just mad at him and not actually contemplating leaving him, not even for a little while. Not that he’d just sit back and have you do that so easily.

Seokjin also hates overthinking, but that is all he did for the entirety of his Monday.

Monday, though, was the last time he had time to overthink. Life got exponentially busier after that.

Immediately after his shoot on Tuesday, he received his agent’s call and was informed of his jam packed schedule for the remainder of the week. He was pulled into two separate magazine ad shoots on Wednesday, a perfume ad film drank up all of his Thursday, and today, a hair product ad film needed him to report to a sunrise point in the city at the ass-crack of dawn. The sky was still dark when he rode across the city with his agent at nearly four in the morning.

And now, the afternoon sun beats down on his car as he drives back alone, his agent staying back to tend to some business. Stopping at a red light, he reaches for his spinach smoothie with one hand and his phone with the other. Ugh, he feels beyond tired.

Blearily, he looks down at the device around a yawn, fingers habitually reaching for your chat.

He took a week off from the restaurant and dropped you a text, late Tuesday evening, informing you of the same.

Honey✨❤👸 Hm, kay. Good luck x

Unsurprisingly, that stands to be your last message in his inbox. It’s been four days.

Sighing, he swipes a hand down his tired face and exits out of the message app. He went to bed at nine o’clock, last night, and owing to the way he has trained his body to sleep on command, he did manage to get a sleep of nearly six hours, too. But it was fitful and plagued with nightmares featuring you.

Knowing he doesn't have to be at the restaurant until Monday and that his next gig isn’t until Wednesday, he cannot wait to get back home and drink his weight in alcohol before he sleeps his way through the weekend.

Just as he has moved past the intersection, his phone rings.

Honey✨❤👸 calling...

He nearly spits the smoothie he just sipped at.

Coughing, he roughly jostles the plastic cup back in the holder and pulls up to a side of the road to pick up the call. “Hey,” he breathes into the phone, embarrassed at his desperation.

“Jin. Um, hi.” You sound awkward, as if you…have been compelled to call him due to some reason.

He is immediately worried. “Honey? Is everything okay, do you need something?”

He hates himself for being so concerned when you have been neglecting him for so many days – yet again, despite your spat at the restaurant – instead of finally talking to him about what’s bothering you, but he can’t help it. At the end of the day, you are the love of his life.

“Yes, yes, I’m okay. It’s just, um. Can you pick me up from the restaurant?” you sound nervous.

But, Seokjin realizes, I was right. You do need something. He clears his throat. “Uh, okay, I guess,” he agrees before stopping short when he realizes the time. “Wait, it’s barely even two. Why are you leaving?” he asks, confused and a little concerned. You work your shift till five every day and till eight on weekends.

“Tomorrow is Halloween, Jin. We’re closing for the weekend, remember?”

Seokjin’s mouth falls open on a gasp. He really had forgotten. “Oh. Oh, okay. Yeah, I’ll be there in five, wait up.”

He swerves the car into the lane and takes off in the direction of the restaurant.

He laughs at himself. He has been so caught up in work that he literally forgot Halloween. He wonders if this is what actual adulting is.

He is stopping before the restaurant within three minutes of your phone call, eyes immediately spotting your delicate figure standing on the sidewalk with your hands crossed against your chest.

You step down from the curb when you spot his car, and walk towards him. He watches your elegant legs as they beautifully fall in a straight line. Even when exiting your job as a waitress, you’re every bit the elegant model he met in college. Your hips sway tantalizingly, and something akin to longing swirls in his chest.

He composes himself quickly when you cross the car to get into the passenger’s seat. You awkwardly clear your throat as Seokjin busies himself with starting the vehicle, unsure if he should initiate conversation.

“Um, sorry about this. You were probably getting ready for shoot,” you finally say. “Byulyi dropped me off today. She wasn’t picking her phone up. I was trying to get a cab for half an hour. And the bus stop’s really far—”

“Hey, stop. It’s okay. You should’ve called me sooner.” Seokjin catches your apprehensive gaze on his oversized hoodie when he chances a glance at you. He sighs. “I was returning home from shoot, actually.”

He feels you stiffen, and he feels even more mentally drained at this. You used to be updated with his schedule to the tee — just short of having an actual copy of the calendar his agent carries on him. And the same goes for him with your schedule. This feels so wrong.

You are quiet for a while, your hands fidgeting in his peripheral vision.

“How—how was it?” you finally say, voice coming out like a croak.

Seokjin shrugs his shoulders. “The usual. Blinding, tiring, exhaustive. I did okay, I guess.”

He feels your gaze snap up to drill holes into his skull. Your eyes are wide when he checks. “Okay? Since when do you do anything less than amazing at shoots, babe?”

He feels endeared at your casual use of a pet name. “I had to get up at three in the morning and go through a skincare routine. Then drive across the entire city to get to the location, because they wanted to capture actual sunrise. I was more tired than excited by the time they rolled cameras, so.” He shrugs. “Can’t really say I gave my best today.”

You nod at his admission.

Seokjin almost jumps when his phone rings, again.

Jiminie calling...

He feels you shift in your seat. His mouth sours at the reminder of that Sue girl that started off this entire tussle between you and him. Fucking Jimin and his conquests. What happened to the shy and more than a little glum looking freshman he let into his living space, three years ago?

Your hand suddenly reaches forth to accept the call, putting it on loudspeaker, immediately. Seokjin gapes at you, momentarily looking away from the road.

“Uh…hyung?” Jimin’s confused voice echoes in the car.

Seokjin snaps out of his daze when you gesture towards the device. “Wh—Jimin, hi, what’s — what’s up?” he stumbles his way through a haphazard greeting.

“Hyung, I needed a favor. Are you on your way back from the shoot, right now?” Jimin asks, and Seokjin sees you freeze in your seat.

He feels a perverse sense of satisfaction. Yes, take that! Park Jmin knows of my schedule better than you do! This is what you get for ghosting me! “I was, yeah. What is it?”

“Oh, great! I kinda need your help, hyung. My tire gave out. Could you pick me up from the Kappa hall?”

Seokjin scowls. “Yah! Who am I, your butler? Hop on a damn bus!”

He notices you pursing your lips, no doubt finding his agitation humorous — you always do.

“Hyu~ng,” Jimin whines. “I would take the bus, but the next one leaves in forty-five minutes and I need to be back within an hour!”

“What? Why?”

“I started on my sem project really late, hyung, and now I gotta spend any time I can spare at the rehearsal hall. I’m meeting a choreographer here in an hour. Please help me out!” Jimin is still whining, and maybe his reasoning is kind of alright, but—

Seokjin is tired to his bones. He literally cannot drive all the way down to your apartment and then drive back to the university campus to pick Jimin up.

He sighs, wearily. “Jimin… I’m really tired.”

“And I’m really desperate, hyung! Dancing is tough! And the subject I've chosen, tougher. I haven't done ballet since first semester, Freshman year! I have to work my butt off and be done in under two months."

Seokjin exhales, feeling beyond exhausted. But then your finger is tapping on the screen and the call has been muted. Seokjin’s surprised eyes fly up to meet yours. You look conflicted, biting down on your lower lip as you shake your head with a frown.

“You should go home and rest, Jin. Leave the car with me, I’ll pick him up.”

“Hyung? Say something?”

Seokjin blinks. “You…”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll pick him up, yeah. He’ll drop me off and drive back to your place.”

“Hyung?! Did you put me on mute, or what? I can't hear a thing!”

“Tell him you’ll be there in ten!” you say, unmuting the call.

“I’m in the car, the network must have glitched. I’ll, uh… be there in ten?” Seokjin nervously finishes off, looking at you in question. You give him a nod, blinking slowly. “Wait up, okay?”

“Oh my God, thank you so much, hyung!” Jimin practically squeals through the phone. “I’ll be in the ice cream shop across the building. I love you, hyung-nim!”

Seokjin rolls his eyes and disconnects the call. He looks at you from the corner of his eyes as he takes a right, now moving in the direction of his apartment instead of yours. “You sure about this? Jimin, um, knows. About our…” Seokjin doesn’t want to call it the f-word, because he would like to believe that you two aren’t actually fighting. “You being upset, I mean,” he settles for the easier alternative. “He might ask questions.”

You give a small huff of wry laugh. “I can handle it, Seokjin. I’ve known Jimin for almost three years now.”

Seokjin doesn’t like it when you address him by his full name. And so, his lips remain pursed for the remainder of the ride, only parting to tell you to “drive safe and text me when you finally get home,” and then he walks inside his apartment without looking back.

He hears his car come to life and then speed away. He shuts his eyes, leaning against the kitchen counter. Gathering his emotional as well as physical bearings, he opens the refrigerator to rummage through some leftovers to munch on while he breaks out a six pack of Budweiser.

Before his fried rice has even reheated, Seokjin groans at the sight of an all too jovial Hoseok entering the kitchen with a glint in his eyes. “No, Hobi. Not now.”

“What? I didn’t say a word, hyung!”

Seokjin winces, shutting his eyes just as the microwave beeps. “I don’t have enough energy to deal with your general aura, right now,” he mumbles, extracting the piping hot glass bowl. He leans down to open one of the compartments beneath the kitchen table to get to the beer that he’s been dreaming of for nearly an hour, now. “I’m dead on my feet and—woah!” Seokjin gasps, cutting himself off.

Hoseok hops into the kitchen, coming around to stand behind Seokjin. “So you found ’em,” he says around a chuckle.

“Found ’em? This is you?” Seokjin whips his head around to glare at Hoseok up from his crouch. “Why is my liquor closet resembling a liquor shop, Hobi? Why do we have all this—” he turns around to read the labels, cursing under his breath. “Why do we have,” he pauses to count, “five bottles of Tequila and eight bottles of Vodka?”

Hoseok frowns in concern. “Eight? There should be ten, hyung, check again.”

Seokjin actually gasps, this time. “What the hell, Jung Hoseok? Explain yourself before I start throwing hands!”

Hoseok smacks a palm against his forehead, taking Seokjin by surprise, yet again. “Tonight’s the Halloween party, hyung! Did you actually forget?”

Seokjin screws his eyes shut, letting his head roll back with a frustrated whine. “No~o, don’t tell me it's tonight. Halloween’s tomorrow, right? Why is the party tonight?”

“Yes, hyung, Halloween in tomorrow, which is why it would be stupid to hold the party when Halloween is ending.”

Seokjin finds the logic to be very severely flawed, but his energy is draining out fast and he cannot keep up with this quarrel. There’s no point, anyway. He’s known about this party for nearly a month. And Hoseok isn’t going to postpone a whole party just because Seokjin is tired.

“You look tired, hyung. You should rest. Recharge yourself before the party, okay? There’s plenty of time.” Hoseok pats Seokjin on the shoulder with a kind smile.

“I’m not even in the mood to party, Hobi,” Seokjin mutters, reaching behind all the glass bottles to extract his pack of cans.

Hoseok scowls at Seokjin. “Because you’re upset about your fight, I realize that. All the more reason to party, hyung! Take your mind off it for some time, why don’t you? You don’t even have to dress up, come as yourself.”

“I’d rather just drink myself to sleep and not wake up for the next twenty four hours.”

Hoseok blocks his path as Seokjin moves to exit the kitchen. “Is Honey coming?”

Seokjin sighs, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know, Hobi. Did you invite her?”

“No, hyung, because you said you would.”

Seokjin clicks his tongue. He completely forgot. “Then she isn’t coming.”

Without listening to his protests, Seokjin trudges upstairs with his food and beer. He will be forced to come down for at least a couple shots, he is certain, so he better make as much of the time he has on his hands as he can.

These days, it seems to be becoming a pattern for you to do things without really understanding why you do them.

You nibble at your bottom lip as you recall how gaunt and pale Seokjin had looked when you sat in the car. You had been really self-centered as it is, not really keeping in touch with him for four days, and then reaching out when you needed help. You couldn’t bear to think, on top of everything, that he had driven you home despite his extreme exhaustion while you sat back selfishly and let him drive around the city to pick Jimin up when he looked like a ghost.

You shake your head at yourself as Jimin jogs down the road to enter the car, ten seconds after you texted him.

His gaze is slightly hesitant when he meets your eyes, even though his smile is nothing but genuine. “Hello, noona. How come you are…” he trails off, gesturing around the two of you.

You start the car, shrugging one shoulder. “Seokjin came to pick me up. Now you’re gonna drop me off.”

Jimin gives you a huge smile, before his eyebrows suddenly lower. You look away, veering onto the road. “Wait. Were you in the car with him when I called?”

You chuckle. “Yes.”

“Oh,” Jimin mumbles around a small laugh.

You hum to yourself as you drive, distracting yourself from the thoughts that keep encircling your head. Seokjin is your boyfriend, no matter how mad you might be at him — you love him and care about him. Which is why you have tried to help him out. Not to mention, you felt slightly guilty, as it is, about calling him to pick you up. Why is your gesture of goodwill bothering you, then?

This is what you do for people you care about. Seokjin would do the same.

Your train of thoughts suddenly comes to a screeching halt.

Would he? Would he, really?

“You okay, noona?”

You jolt back from your thoughts, wide eyes turning to look at Jimin. “Wha—yes, yeah, I'm fine.”

He cocks an eyebrow at you. “You’re gripping the wheel really hard.”

You look at your tightly clenched fists, and immediately ease them. “Oh, uh. Sorry. A lot on my mind, I guess.”

“Understandably,” Jimin mutters, looking out of the side window when you turn to look at him.

You purse your lips and press down on the accelerator.

A few beats of silence pass between you two before Jimin clears his throat. “Can I say something?” he asks you in a soft voice, looking nothing like the seductive persona he puts forth to get ladies falling in his bed.

You exhale. “Sure.”

“You, um. You are not just hyung’s girlfriend, you know?” he says slowly.

You scoff. “Of course, I do. I am also the very best server my restaurant has ever seen and the best struggling model you’ll ever meet, on the side.”

Jimin snorts, before giggling with his eyes closed. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

You do. But you do not want to face it. You want to be selfish, for once. You do absolutely know that you have been ignoring all the boys in your anger at Seokjin, but you absolutely do not wish to do anything about it. Not until you’ve resolved this tense air between you and Seokjin.

“You are also a part of our little family,” Jimin quietly finishes.

You suck your lips in at that. The word “family'' really gets to you.

He’s right, isn’t he?

All eight of you — well, nine, now, with the addition of Taehyung’s girlfriend — have been a family since the day you met these guys.

You smile as the memories start to filter in.

You had had a giant crush on Seokjin since the very first time you saw him in your Freshman year. Well, having a crush on the guy wasn’t that unheard of given how handsome he was. It also helped matters that he modelled for the cover page of your university’s journal within his first month in college. What surprised you was his reciprocated interest when you both finally got to know each other, thanks to Byulyi. Your current roommate was majoring in photography back then, and somehow roped the two of you into modelling for her portfolio. Seokjin asked you out during the sixth month of your Freshman year.

You recall being introduced to Yoongi in your Sophomore year, when he entered your college as a Music major. You found him laid back, calm but really sassy, and fun to be around. The three of you often hung out together, and you took immense pleasure in singling Seokjin out with the two of your sarcastic back and forths.

In your senior year, Hoseok transferred to your college as a Sophomore, and Taehyung and Jimin entered as Freshmen.

Hoseok was literally the most lively person you’d ever met in your life. There wasn’t a single moment of boredom next to him. He was easily given the responsibility of planning all your outings and parties, henceforth — a position he still holds with full competence.

Taehyung was usually found to be lost in his head more often than not in his initial college days. He was confused about his major for two entire semesters. With inputs from the group, when he eventually picked Art, he eased into college life. After that, he came out to be one of the weirdest and unwittingly funny guys in the group. You still don’t get how he was the first amongst all the boys to find him a girl.

Jimin was a really quiet and reserved individual, at first. He very rarely interacted with you all, choosing to stay holed up in his dorm room, instead, that Taehyung had forced him to share with him. You suspected he was recovering from a recent heartbreak. It became evident when he started dating someone within a week of getting into college, only to confess it was a rebound when he got dumped. The whoring around that began after the whole debacle is yet to cease, though. Obviously.

Hoseok comes from a really well-off family, and had brought along with him the four-bedroom apartment he currently resides in with Yoongi, Jimin and your boyfriend. His uncle gave it away to him, rent-free of course, and he proposed to share it with the rest of the guys. Seokjin and Yoongi were immediately on board, more than eager to leave the chaotic dorm life behind. Taehyung, contrarily, decided he wanted to get the whole college experience and refused to quit the dorms. Jimin, then, left the dorm he shared with Taehyung to move in with the elders.

You met Jungkook immediately after your graduation on the boy’s eighteenth birthday. He instantly struck you as a smart kid, really good at singing as well as art. Yoongi disclosed he wanted to be a music major in your college, and you tried to encourage Jungkook about it, but the guy could hardly even look at you. It was cute but also hilarious how much he was scared of Seokjin, and by principle, you.

You believe that is still true. Now that you think about it, you're pretty sure you haven’t seen Jungkook ever actually relax around the two of you.

“Noona?”

You blink, coming back to the present as Jimin calls out to you. You take a deep breath, the memories hitting you with tender emotions. All these people are really precious to you, aren’t they? The bunch of you really are a family, aren’t you?

A sad smile swims up to your face. You miss the boys.

When he calls again, you turn to look at Jimin, questioningly.

“Please don’t be mad at hyung,” he slowly says, looking down at his lap. In this moment, he looks quite unlike the Jimin you are used to and reminds you of, instead, the one you’d first met. “He might lack tact, sometimes, but he really loves you a lot. You’re his whole world. Whatever it is that you are angry about, you should tell him about it. I don’t think he would be able to figure it out by himself.”

This, you agree with. “I’ll try, Jiminie.”

“We all miss you. Especially Hobi hyung and I,” he says with a lopsided excuse of a smile.

You resist the urge to fluff his hair. Jimin and Hoseok have been like the younger brothers you never had. You miss them, too.

He suddenly chuckles. "And Yoongi hyung hides it well, but I think he's the one that misses you the most. No one helps him roast Jin hyung quite like you do."

You roll your eyes. "Of course not. It's a waste for Yoongi to even try to find a better partner at roasting Jin."

You spot your apartment building and pull up to it.

“I’ll try to talk to Jin as soon as I can, Jimin, I promise. Don't worry so much about it,” you say as you step out, patting the boy once on his head. "I miss you all, too."

You give a small wave and faint smile to him as he drives away.

tagging: @shrimpmsg

note: so! a lil bit of backstory and the infamous halloween party - how we feelin’ so far? the next part is ~12k words, too, and i’ll post it next wednesday, wait around~ 😘💕

SECOND PART OUT NOW: read here!

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mandoalorian · 4 years ago

Note

Rach could you please do something soft like it’s maxwells birthday and you and alastair plan a small birthday party ( just the three of you) and he is so overwhelmed with love he can’t believe he got so lucky after everything ❤️ then you tell him you’re pregnant.

Also no pressure to write you can totally ignore this 😊

Birthday Surprise [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader]

Warnings: pregnancy, allusions to sex, food mention, mention of infidelity/cheating, mention of poverty

Word Count: 3200>

A/N: It’s April 1st which means it’s officially Max Lord’s birthday! <33 Thank you for all the Max requests people have sent in over the past week. They’ve truly been a joy to write. & Thank you @supernaturalgirl for this lovely request. I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

Once upon a time, Maxwell Lord had these big, extravagant parties to celebrate his birthday. He’d host at fancy venues and it would be formal, strictly black-tie, and only the elite were invited. But the truth was, he was incredibly lonely. He had no friends, only colleagues and business associates. His wife would hang on his arm, wearing real fur, and Chanel couture earrings, parading around the room, flirting with other businessmen who might’ve been more successful than Max.

He didn’t like his birthday. Growing up, he didn’t celebrate much either. The Lorenzano family could barely afford to buy Maxwell new shoes or clothes that fit, so expecting gifts and parties was the last thing on his mind. Every year though, without fail, his mother would cook him a small cake and light a candle. “Make a wish, Maxwell.” she’d whisper. It was funny how things turned out.

And when he married for the first time, it was his wife who insisted on these big, luxurious celebrations with balloons and music. The attention was nice, sure, but it always felt like it was more for her than it was for him. He’d never say anything though. Just smile and nod. As long as she was happy. She sure seemed happy when Maxwell caught his wife with her tongue down another man’s throat at his 32nd birthday party. Thankfully, that marriage soon ended, and whilst Maxwell swelled with heartache for a good few months, better things were soon to come.

Like meeting you.

About a week before Maxwell’s birthday, Alistair was... hyper, to say the least. It was way past his bedtime, and yet he was bouncing up and down on yours and Max’s bed, clearly trying to get his father to leave the room.

“Daddy, could you go make me some french fries?”

Maxwell peeked up from his newspaper and furrowed his eyebrows together. His son’s question even ruffled you slightly, as you looked up from painting your nails and tilted your head slightly.

“Alistair, it’s eleven at night. No french fries.” Maxwell sighed before looking back down at his newspaper.

Alistair hummed, looking around the bedroom.

“Daddy, did you remember to feed Lady her evening biscuits?”

Maxwell looked up from his paper again, and stared at his son.

“I fed her this evening,” You said, trying to work out what kind of mischief Alistair was getting up to now. “Ali, is everything okay?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?” The six year old replied, and well, it was a fair response. You and Maxwell exchanged a glance before getting back to your business. About ten seconds passed.

“Daddy, can you make me some warm milk?”

Maxwell sighed, this time dropping his newspaper completely and rubbing his tired eyes. “You don’t need warm milk Alistair.”

“But I’ll struggle to sleep without it.”

“I’ll go get you some,” you told the child, but Alistair quickly extended his arm, stopping you before you could get out of bed.

“No mommy, you’re sick. Besides, I asked daddy.”

You blinked, taken slightly aback. Alistair was a sweet child with wonderful manners, that much you knew, but even his decorum right now took you by surprise. He was speaking like a fully grown gentleman. Processing his words, you simply shrugged your shoulders before shuffling back into bed and getting comfortable.

Yeah, you’d been throwing up the past few days, in the mornings mostly, but you’d drawn it down to food poisoning. It was sweet how Alistair was seemingly looking out for your health. Maxwell’s gaze flicked between you both but, in defeat, he got out of bed and padded downstairs, into the kitchen to prepare his son’s bedtime beverage. Once he was gone, and you could hear him begin to steam the milk, you snapped your fingers to get Alistiar’s attention.

“Alright Ali,” you sighed, folding your arms across your chest. “What’s going on? Why have you been trying to get your dad to leave the room for the past...” you checked the time on the alarm clock which was positioned on Max’s nightstand. “Half an hour.” Gods he was persistent. Just like his father.

“We need to do something special for daddy’s birthday.” Alistair announced, and as he uttered the words, you already knew that there was no room for questioning him. He and his father were similar in that sense too.

“What do you have in mind?” you wondered out loud. You knew Maxwell’s birthday was approaching, despite your husband never talking about it. You hadn’t even thought of what to get him yet, which was a problem.

“A party. But not like the ones daddy has for work,” Alistair explained, referring to the many galas Maxwell had hosted in attempt to gain sponsorship and investments for his company. “Like, a small tea party. Just us. All his favourite snacks and the birthday cake granny used to make him when he was a kid. I know it’s his favourite. And balloons and banners and streamers. I can draw a picture. And music. And—“

“Okay okay baby slow down, I see where you’re coming from,” you smiled, pulling Alistair into your lap. “And I like the idea. Do you know if your dad has ever had a small party like this before?”

“I don’t think so.” Alistair replied softly and you nodded in understanding.

“Well, we’ll have to make sure it’s perfect. We can start planning tomorrow morning when he goes to work, okay? But keep your mouth zipped tight Ali, it has to be a surprise.”

———

The day of Maxwell’s birthday started like any other. He left for work at 7:30, his driver waiting for him outside. He graced you with a quick peck on the cheek and told you he couldn’t wait to see you tonight. Now, Maxwell hadn’t uttered one word about his birthday in the past week, but even today, he hadn’t mentioned it. You’d planned on giving him his present this morning when he woke up, but your nerves got the better of you.

You’d waited to give him this gift for a week already, you could at least wait a few more hours until he got home from work.

At 9am, your best friend arrived with an abundance of helium balloons, birthday banners and streamers. At 9:30am, you tried to help Alistair pick out a smart outfit, although he was begging to wear one of his new Star Wars Ewok costumes.

“How can you eat all the cake if you’re dressed as a massive teddy bear?” you asked the boy. He sighed, knowing that you had a point.

Alistair looked adorable in his button down shirt and pants. You even fished in Maxwell’s closet to find a bow tie, hoping it would complete the look.

“I look like dad.” Alistair mumbled, fiddling with the wonky tie that you’d haphazardly wrapped around his neck.

“Exactly. You look wonderful.” you grinned, enveloping him into a massive hug.

At 12, you figured it was the best time to begin baking the cake. But to do that, you needed the recipe. When you called Ms Lorenzano, your heart blossomed upon hearing the excitement in her voice.

“Oh darling! Hello! It’s so lovely to hear from you.” she spoke into the phone, and you could just imagine her smile on the other end of the line. It was identical to Maxwell’s.

“Hello Ms Lorenzano,” you greeted, nervously curling the telephone wire around your finger. “How’ve you been?”

“I was just packing away my groceries. I got the bouquet of flowers you and Maxwell sent me yesterday. They look beautiful on my dining room table. Thank you, darling. They really lighten up the room. How is my son? Is he there?” Ms Lorenzano quizzed.

“Max is great, actually. He’s working at the moment but we were thinking about flying out to see you this weekend. If you weren’t busy? Alistair misses you very much.”

“Oh that would be wonderful! I’ve missed my little cherub so much. Let me guess, a big party planned tonight for my Maxwell’s birthday?” She beamed.

“Not quite. It was Ali’s idea to plan something small - a tea party of sorts. He was telling me about this vanilla frosting birthday cake you used to bake when Max was younger? And I was hoping you’d share the recipe with me. I’d love to try and recreate it… although my baking skills are nowhere near as good as yours.” you giggled.

“That recipe has been passed down our family for generations,” Ms Lorenzano explained and you felt your heart sink into your chest. By neither law nor blood, you weren’t family. Would she really not give you the recipe? You’d been dating Maxwell for years now. And Ms Lorenzano did always say you were like a daughter to her… “Of course you can have it.” she smiled and you felt a wave of relief wash over you as she began to list the ingredients.

“Thank you Ms Lorenzano, it was so lovely to speak to you. Max is gonna give you a call tonight. Take care, okay?”

“Okay darling. I send my love. Give Alistair a kiss from his ol’ granny. I will see you Saturday.”

Now, the smart thing would’ve been to call over the house chef and have her prepare the birthday cake. At least then, it would be void of any errors. But this was strictly a Lorenzano family recipe and the last thing you wanted to do was to disrespect Ms Lorenzano and immediately give it to the house chef. So, you figured you’d give it your best go. At least then it would be sentimental.

Maxwell was a fussy eater, only eating the most delicious and well presented foods. You weren’t sure if he’d even step a foot near this cake. As you stirred together the ingredients, something wasn’t right. It was lumpy and bubbling and -- no matter what, you just couldn’t seem to fix it. You called Alistair in, who had been colouring in a family portrait he’d drawn, to take a look, but of course, he didn’t know any better.

When the cake came out the oven, it was lop-sided and slightly burned. You figured it would be okay if you just covered it in the vanilla frosting and placed the sliced strawberries intricately on the top. But no. Luck wasn’t on your side today. The strawberries slipped off and the icing was uneven. At least you managed to put the cake on one of the fancy ‘special occasion’ plates. You could just tell Maxwell that it was made with love.

Ali helped you decorate downstairs, which proved to be a challenge. The rooms in Lord manor were extensively sized and tall, but you did your best.

“Ali, I’m going to quickly get changed okay? Would you do me a favour and bring down your dad’s presents from upstairs? You could place them on the dining room table.”

Alistair nodded obediently and did as he was told. You went up to yours and Maxwell’s shared closet and looked around, trying to decide on what exactly you should wear. You opted on a beautiful, fitted champagne coloured dress that glittered in the artificial lighting. It was one of your favourite gowns and you had worn it last summer at one of Black Gold Cooperative’s charity fundraising events. You knew how much Maxwell loved it too. If Alistair was dressed in his father’s bow-tie, and Maxwell always looked presentable, there was no reason you couldn’t make an effort to look good too. Besides, you didn’t know how long you’d have left before you wouldn’t be able to fit into these dresses anymore.

You didn’t have long before Maxwell was due to finish work. You quickly style your hair and adjust your makeup, before padding downstairs and into the dining room. Just like you had requested, all of Maxwell’s presents were neatly piled on top of the table, courtesy of Alistair.

“He’ll be home any second Ali,” you said, handing Alistair a party popper and adjusting the cone shaped party hat on his head. Alistair was absolutely beaming, his big brown eyes twinkling like starlight as he anticipated his father coming home from work. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” Alistair grinned.

“Okay. Good. Let’s go find a place to hide.”

Ducking down behind the stack of gifts, you waited for about five minutes in silence, until you heard the front door unlock. Alistair squeaked excitedly, hearing his dad come home and you bit your lip, quietly shushing him but unable to contain your own smile.

Maxwell was surprised when he came home. He wasn’t greeted like he expected to be. Normally, every evening after his shift, you and Ali would run into his arms and envelope him into a hug. The lack of running and hugs concerned Maxwell. The house was dead quiet, and he even found himself wondering if either of you were home.

When he padded into the dining room and switched on the light, you and Ali jumped out and screamed in unison; “Happy birthday!”

Maxwell froze, his jaw dropping open and his eyes going comically wide. He was presented with an abundance of gifts, a decorated dining room, his son and girlfriend all dressed up, and a questionable looking cake with a wax candle stuck in the top. You and Alistair ran into Maxwell’s arms and hugged him tight.

“Daddy! Daddy! It’s your birthday! Look! We planned a surprise tea party all by ourselves!” Alistar squealed, tugging on his father’s arm.

“I- I- wow!” Maxwell gasped, genuinely speechless. You bit your lip and swayed your hips as you lovingly gazed into his brown eyes. You didn’t know what it was, maybe the fact the whole day was leading up to this moment, or perhaps just an imbalance with your hormones, but you had missed him so much. Just seeing him again made you want to weep in his strong arms. You loved him so much.

“Happy birthday.” you whispered, raising your hand to cup his face. He nudged his nose against yours and you kissed him sweetly.

“You did all of this for me?” He asked after reluctantly pulling away, still in genuine shock.

“It was Ali’s idea.” you replied, letting your body lean against his. You rest your head into his chest so much so that you could hear the rhythm of his heartbeat.

“You look… breathtaking, darling.” Maxwell hummed, his hand resting on the small of your back.

“Come sit down,” you said, taking his hand and guiding him over to the dining room table. “You have all these presents, and we have cake and music…”

“The cake…” Maxwell pointed and quirking an eyebrow. “Is that… it can’t be…”

“It is, I called your mom for the recipe.” You confirmed with a nervous smile.

“I-- don’t believe it. I haven’t had this cake since--”

“I know. Again it was Ali’s idea,” you informed him. Alistair looked bashfully proud as he anticipated the cake cutting. “I know it doesn’t look the best…”

“Are you kidding?” Maxwell asked, cutting you off. “This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“Would you like to try some?”

“Would I like to try some?” Maxwell repeated incredulously. “Of course!”

You lit the candle and held hands with Alistair and Max as the two of you sang happy birthday. As Maxwell blew out the candle, you told him to make a wish.

“I don’t need to wish for anything. I already have everything I could ever want. Right here.”

Maxwell got a variety of miscellaneous gifts for his birthday. A porcelain statue of a dog, a small desk flag with his company logo on it, a basket filled with biotin supplements, and of course the artwork that Alistair had created earlier in the day. It was a beautiful crayon illustration of you, Max, Ali, and of course your cat, Lady Lord. Maxwell promised to frame it and put it on his desk at work. Little did he realise though, the best gift was yet to come.

Once Alistair was tucked into bed, you and Maxwell decided to settle down and have an early night. All the eating and dancing had exhausted you both.

“Thank you for today,” Maxwell mumbled, pulling the zipper down your dress. His warm breath fanned over the shell of your ear and you immediately felt butterflies in your stomach. “Why don’t we go to bed, hm?” he asked, peppering kisses down your neck and along your shoulders.

You knew what he was hinting at, and you wanted it too. Of course you wanted it too. But there was something you had to deal with first. You were so nervous but you knew it was now or never.

“I didn’t give you your birthday present.” you announced, turning around to look your boyfriend in the eye.

“Wh-- what do you mean? You didn’t need to get me anything. This was enough. You-- you, my love, are enough.”

You smiled, rubbing his bicep and finding yourself once again getting lost in his eyes. You took a deep breath and pulled him into the en-suite bathroom. Although confused, Max didn’t say a word, and instead, he watched you in silence as you unlocked the drawer under the sink. It was where you usually kept your cosmetics, but Max’s gift had been waiting in there for the past week, wrapped up in tissue. You took it out and handed him it.

You anxiously watched as he unravelled the tissue, only to be presented with a positive pregnancy test. Your positive pregnancy test. His eyebrows knotted together and you watched his Adam's apple bop in his throat as he swallowed. But then, only seconds later, his face softened and his eyes became glazed with unshed tears. “You’re… we’re…”

“We’re pregnant, Max.” you confessed, confirming his thoughts.

Maxwell choked up and wrapped his strong arms tight around you, squeezing you hard. “Oh my God, we’re really pregnant?”

“Mhm.” you giggled, as Maxwell pulled away and cupped your cheeks with his hand. He kissed you passionately and when he pulled away, his grin was ecstatic.

“How long have you known?” He quizzed.

“A week.” you admitted.

“A week?!”

You swatted his arm playfully and shushed him.

“I wanted it to be a surprise. We have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow, to confirm it and everything. But with the sickness and… I can feel it, you know?” You took his hand and placed it against your stomach. “I can really feel it.”

“I love you so much,” Maxwell smiled. “I love you so, so much.”

“Happy birthday my dear.” you replied, guiding him back over to the bed. “I love you too.”

--------x---------

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168 notes · View notes

skellebonez · 4 years ago

Note

Prompt 63; Sun Wukong and Sandy, becayse Sandy deserves to be pissed at Sun Wukong for leaving as much as Pigsy.

So this prompt was sent in well before S2E8... and now I have the chance to use that as a very fun basis for my own head canons! (Even though 1 is very debatable.)

I believed you! I stood up for you! Defended you! And you lied!

It was only a matter of time before Wukong was confronted by Sandy. The moment he saw the aquatic demon after the defeat of the Spider Queen at the Lunar New Year festival he knew that he was on borrowed time. Now, on the air ship... drone... thingy, there was no time left and he knew that Sandy would eventually want to talk. Alone.

"You lied to us, left us, and we couldn't find you."

"... I thought you wouldn't come looking for me," Wukong said, looking down over the edge of the ship. It was dark, well into the very early hours of the morning, and he couldn't sleep. Apparently he hadn't been the only one, Sandy sneaking up behind him. He must have been more off his game than he realized.

"You're a dumbass," Sandy retorted back at him, tone more tired and sad than anything else this time. He was more blunt than Sandy had ever heard him around MK or the others. "Of course we would have looked for you. We're brothers."

"I know that now," Wukong admitted. "I just... I guess I wasn't thinking clearly. That's not a good- no, there isn't an excuse for just leaving like that."

"Look, I get it," Sandy continued on, moving to stand right beside his once-brother. "In a way, now at least. You'd just fought someone you used to consider a sworn-brother for the second time. Had to do to him what was done to you to keep him from hurting people. But you lied to us."

"I know."

"You told us before you left that you'd come back and you didn't!"

"I know!"

"I believed you! I stood up for you! Defended you when people said you were never going to come back! And you lied!"

"I know!" Wukong snapped, louder than Sandy had raised his own voice, teeth barred and growling under his words. "I know, Wujing, I lied to you! But I can't take that back!"

Sandy pinched the bridge of his nose, taking in a deep calming breath before continuing. "... I know too. What's past is past, we can't change it now. We just have to work with what we have."

"... that sounds like something master would say."

"It was something he said." Sandy sighed. "He probably misses you a lot, you know. I hadn't been up there in years... couldn't bring myself to step foot there when Red Son took us there to get the ingredients for the anti-venom."

"I can't believe no one has gone after you all for that... maybe master had a hand in that."

"Or they're still scared of The Handsome Monkey King who once wrecked Havoc in Heaven," Sandy said with a ghost of a smile. Wukong couldn't help but chuckle at that, soft and almost as much of a ghost. "But I think he did. They probably know... at least a bit. Definitely that you're back and about MK. Everything else, I don't know."

"If they did I think we wouldn't be in this mess right now." Wukong bit his lip, scowling. "I should have swallowed my pride and asked for help. Gone to master or Guanyin or even the Jade Emperor."

"But what's past is past," Sandy repeated. "We work with what we have."

Wukong laughed again, this time cold and bitter and hollow.

"What we have is a shapeshifted super strong celestial who doesn't like to fight, a really kick ass dragon girl, just some guy who knows way more than he should, two monkies who don't even have half their powers anymore, and..." He trailed off, looking back at the entrance to the inside of the ship. "And..."

"Pigsy."

"Bajie," Wukong countered. "But... not Bajie anymore."

It had been a shock when he had seen the four of them at the Lunar New Year festival. It was like the past had returned with a new coat of paint and slapped him in the face.

Mei had the same aura as her ancestor, Bai Long Ma, radiating off her in droves. She even looked similar to one of the dragon's multiple human forms. And she and MK looked inseparable.

Tang looked... a lot like Tripitaka. Even shared his name, to an extent. He didn't have same aura as his master but there was something about him that made him wonder if maybe he could be a distant relation.

Sandy was Wujing. That was much was clear to him. He looked different but his voice was the same as always and Wukong could see his power shining through him so clearly.

And then there had been Pigsy. He looked so much like Bajie and yet so different and Wukong thought he must have just been a fluke. But no... no, he chanced a quick glance at them all with his True Sight and could see them for who they were.

'Bai Long Mas dragon aura. Tang a normal human. Sha Wujing's powerful water demon visage he couldn't forget.

And Zhu Bajie's too.

"Does he... remember anything?" Wukong asked, watching a flock of birds keep pace with the ship. Or bats, possibly, given the lack of sunlight. He couldn't tell, much like how he couldn't tell how far away they were. Not anymore... Not yet.

"No," Sandy answered.

"Good." Wukong breathed out a shaky breath, remembering how it felt when the chef had berated him. It felt so... similar he almost thought... "Good... it's better for everyone if he doesn't. Especially MK, he wouldn't... he wouldn't take knowing one of his actual parental figures had been lying to him. It's bad enough you and I do."

The two fell into a silence, watching as the sun began to rise above horizon. It was almost nice. For a moment.

"How did he die?"

Sandy tensed. "Is this really the conversation you want to have at sun rise?"

"Yes," Wukong answered immediately, no hesitation in his voice whatsoever. "I've put it off too long. I'll learn eventually, it's pretty clear we're not going to be able to run from our past for much longer, so why put it off anymore?"

The silence returned once again as the two watched the mountains they slowly flew over gain an orange-gold hue of early morning. Wukong used to love watching the sunrise, either up early enough that it was just him and Tripitaka or centuries later on his mountain home with his monkey court. No matter what happened? If he was able to watch it he felt like things would be alright.

Now the sight left a bittersweet taste in his mouth that he wasn't sure would ever leave.

"Battle," Sandy eventually said. "After you left... a lot of demons were angry, far angrier than before, and there was no order with DBK locked under that mountain. It wasn't nearly as bad as before but it was more widespread and chaotic. Bajie and I left our new stations in the Celestial Court and returned to the mortal realm to protect the humans and he..." He sighed, leaning forward on the railing to look down, away from the sunlight. "We underestimated an opponent. Bajie took a hit meant for me and... I-I don't remember much after that."

"I can imagine why," Wukong said softly. He'd seen how into battle Wujing get when truly angered, losing himself in rage until his opponent was no more. It only ever happened when one of them had been hurt.

"When I realized that I had... When I went to check on him he was already gone," Sandy continued, wringing his fingers together. "If I had just worked on my anger sooner, long before then, maybe I would have left with him and he wouldn-"

"No," Wukong interrupted firmly, standing straight to glare at Sandy. It wasn't an angry glare, but a sad one. "No, Wujing, you have no way of knowing how bad he was... it may not have... never mind, let's not think about that."

"Go on, say it," Sandy insisted, gripping the railing. "I think I've needed someone to say it for a long time because I can't say it to myself. Please."

"... he... he may have already been gone before you blacked out," Wukong said softly, watching as Sandy tensed and wincing as the railing warped and groaned under his grip.

But eventually he calmed, relaxed and loosed that grip and sighed.

"He probably was," he admitted, standing straight and watching the clouds above them. "... I'm still pissed at you."

"You should be," Wukong said as he pushed away from the railing with a pained groan. His wounds still hurt, treatment and time or not. "You deserve to be. I made a lot of mistakes."

"You can make up for most of them." Sandy stretched, offering a half smile. "You've been trying already. I can tell how much you're trying to watch MK when he thinks you aren't around now. And how you've been bugging Pigsy."

"Even if he doesn't remember I guess I... wanna make up for lost time," Wukong said with a chance of a smile of his own.

The two of them turned to head inside, Sandy moving slower than usual to accommodate for the king's slower gait with his limp. His injured knee would take a long time to heal without his usual powers now.

"I'm going to tell them," Sandy suddenly said as he reached to open the door. "About me being Wujing. We can't afford to keep running from our pasts, brother. Not anymore."

The way Sandy said his name, as soft and welcoming as he ever had on their journey made Wukong pause. He almost surprised himself when he felt something running down his left cheek, realizing that his now injured eye made it harder to hide how he felt when the damaged tear ducts and added sensitivity let the tears run free.

"Not anymore," he agreed.

And Sandy opened the door and they headed inside.

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #gen fic #hurt comfort #sad fic #sun wukong #monkey king #sandy #sha wujing #prompt fill #wukong: gets a damaged eyebrow in canon #me: it's free real estate to project all my vision issues onto one monkey man

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honey-makki · 4 years ago

Text

grandma’s blessing

best friend!hanamaki takahiro x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of death (family member), oral (fem receiving), fire, probably unsanitary cooking conditions if i’m being honest (it’s soft i swear)

summary: the holidays are your favorite time of year. your best friend hanamaki tries to keep holiday cheer alive despite the loss of a family member.

word count 2.4k

masterlist

Holiday’s are tricky. Decisions on whether the trauma of going home will be a heavier burden to bear than the guilt and loneliness of your city apartment. GOing home was never a pleasant experience. Trips filled with parents nitpicking your seemingly successful life and emotionally battering you about anything and everything they could. The only reprieve would be hugging your grandmother and being able to see her face-to-face during dinner. She understood why you didn’t come home every opportunity and didn’t blame you a bit.

On years when it would be too much to travel, you knew that she would still give you a call. Spending all day on the phone with you while you bounced around the kitchen making much smaller portions of what they would be eating at home. Even the small amounts of silence on the call were comfortable. You could feel her next to you kneading the dough for a pie while you mixed together the fruit base. It felt like home.

The silence that has been living in your apartment the past few months after her passing was suffocating. Weekends spent with friends at their apartment just to get out of somewhere that just seems to reek of death and despair.

You had spent more nights at Makki’s place in the past month than at your own. He was your closest friend, a true confidant, someone skilled at lifting your mood, and the person you’ve been undeniably in love with for years. You accepted the fate of growing old with a horde of cats as long as you can have his silly pink hair shining in the sun when you hung out with friends. It’s ok that you are going to be alone forever as long as you still had a standing laser tag date once a month. The only thing stronger than your feelings of love towards the strawberry blond was fear of losing him.

He has been a pillar of strength during the past few months. Holding your crying body until you fall asleep on his tear-stained and snot covered chest. Setting alarms in your phone to make sure you are eating or going to work instead of sitting in a dissociative state. Ever since you shared a bed with him, he’s been a little more comfortable with physical contact. Walking closer together arms touching when going out or throwing an arm over your shoulder when lounging around the house. You can’t count the number of times you’ve both woken up in various stages of cuddling.

He was the one to bring up spending the holidays together. He had just gone home for a wedding and couldn’t afford another ticket and he knew that you were in a weird spot. “We can stay here and make dinner and bake cookies and watch shitty r-romcoms? Someone has to appreciate Hallmark movies, why not us?” You can hear his voice crack and start to speed up as a blush rises across his face. You see it but don’t really process it, more relieved that for the first time in months, the thought of holidays didn’t make you run to the bathroom and throw up. You smiled and nodded, setting plans for him to come over later in the week.

Makki always liked when you cooked, throwing a western spin on dishes he considered normal. But today, he was flabbergasted, you didn’t let him just sit on the barstool curating music while you did all the work, no, there was too much food to be made for him to laze around. You laid out the recipe for your grandmothers’ mac n’ cheese, explaining what everything meant while you got started on an asian fusion stuffing you figured out a few years back.

You stole glances at him in the middle of stirring, combining and folding everything together. His tongue sticks out between his lips while he deliberately measures out the exact amount of cheese required. In all the time you’ve seen him, you’ve never seen him totally lose his laid back air until now, and you can’t control your laugh. Is he really more serious about measuring out sharp cheddar cheese than a game that would take them to nationals? Or that physics final he actually studied for? Your heart skips a beat when you see his soft, satisfied smile to the dish he just created. All you can picture when he looks over to you is how cute of a child he must have been. Cheeks round encasing his bright smile as his head tilts ever so slightly to the left.

After he slides the last dish into the oven, you both opt for taking the time to clean the kitchen, knowing that you won’t want to do it after dinner. The dishes are washed and dried and while Makki puts away the ones that go on a higher shelf, you return flour and other ingredients to the pantry but before you put them down you call out to him, voice lighter than normal, the one you use when asking a favor.

“Taka, how upset would you be if I said I wanted to cook a little bit more?”

“You get dishes this time around then, but what are we makin’?”

You turn out of the pantry with a bounce in your step before slapping down the flour and newly acquired, chocolate chips and sprinkles. “Cookies! We always made cookies with my grandma and it wouldn’t be the same without them.” Your eyes sparkle at the thought of the sweet treats and equally sweet memories of your childhood. Makki thinks you are breathtaking.

“Let me get the bowls back down and we can probably make mediocre cookies if you have anything you do with it.” He smiles at just how cute the squawk you made from his teasing is, just happy that he gets to be here with you. He doesn’t really hear how you defend your baking skills and complain that just because you forgot flour one time doesn’t mean you are inept at baking.

He never thought he would be the type to settle down and be domestic, it just didn’t seem like something he cared a lot about, but now he he can’t rid his mind of the thought of waking up ten minutes before your alarm just to make you a cup of coffee or throwing your favorite blanket in the drier on days it’s raining so when you get home, you can melt into the soft plush and warm up instantly.The clattering of spices brings him back to the moment, turning to see you picking up the cinnamon and vanilla extract.

“You good, love?” There’s something about how you look when you flustered because of him, that scratches an itch he didn’t know was there. The first time a pet name like this had slipped through his lips he was certain that whatever line the two of you were toeing had been crossed, demolished. Instead you just tucked your hair away and averted your gaze back to whatever shitty movie the two of you were “watching” that night. Now it’s normal, well its not normal, its very much not normal for him to refer to you as love or babe and it's not normal for you to exclusivley call him by his first name. It's decidedly abnormal considering your relationship or lack thereof. But if you aren’t going to question it neither is he.

He helps you up and gather the remaining ingredients for the “famous snickerdoodle cookies” that you swear had won awards. The mixing of the dough is interrupted when he has to grab your wrist to stop you from adding salt instead of sugar. You refuse to look at him because you know he is sporting a huge smirk and raised eyebrows, knowing that he’s right about you not being the best baker. You are reprieved by the oven going off, signaling to remove the earlier and change the temperature.

“Damn, babe, these cookies look so good, especially this one.” You return to Makki who already started to lay out the dough on the baking tray. You see perfectly round blobs squished slightly by a fork for a pattern and then right in front of him you see the cookie he was talking about. You didn't expect to see your 27 year old boyfriend-who-isn’t-your-boyfriend to be holding a cockshaoped cookie. But really, you should have seen it coming from the guy who laughs when either of you fart.

He can hear the clock ticking as you just stare, annoyed. He was concerned for a second, that maybe he shouldn’t have made a lewd joke when making cookies. This is something he used to do with her grandmother, you stupid idiot.. But when he can see the apple of your cheek peeking out from behind your hand, he recognizes that face. The one that positively exudes warmth and happiness with her laughter. The butterflies always buzzing in his stomach go wild when this face comes out. He would do anything to see it for the rest of time.

You don’t know where the courage comes from but you cup his cheek for a kiss, he mirrors your action. It just felt normal, and you honestly didn’t realize that it wasn’t normal until you both pulled back. Your eyes are locked on his, both of you sporting a soft smile until his keeps growing, evolving into a laugh that is borderline offensive in how loud it is.

You don’t know why and you get a little nervous that maybe he doesn’t feel the same way, when you go to hide your face, you feel the heat rising but also a soft powdery coating? And that’s when you realize his hands are still coated in flour from shaping the cookies. Your eyes are rolling while you chuckle but Makki on the other hand is losing his mind, almost in tears from laughing while putting the cookies in the oven. “It’s not that funny, Takahiro! Get me a napkin please.”

“Nah, you look really sweet. Good enough to eat.” You weren’t surprised when he returned to kissing you, nor when he lifted you up by your thighs and plopped you on the counter. The kisses are sweet, lazy and perfect for a second kiss, and a third and a fourth. This is normal. His lips belong on yours. Your hands should be tangled up in his hair while his run over your waist and legs. This is right. There's no rush to deepen the kiss, both of you happy to just indulge in the warmth of the other, but it is inevitable. A soft nip at your bottom lip or an accidental tug of his hair, neither of you know what happened first but you both are staring at each other, panting lightly with a much darker gaze than the original flour induced makeout session.

“You are just as sweet as I thought. Gotta have a taste.” His voice is raspier than you’ve ever heard and you just let him move your body as he pleases. Pull your hips to the edge of the counter. Spread your legs as far apart as they’ll go. Lift your hips when he pulls your shorts and underwear down. Gotta act as sweet as he says I am. He has barely touched you but when he falls to his knees and just stares at your dripping slit that he's imagined for years, your eyes, you are already imagining how good he's going to feel.

You shouldn’t even try to think, his tongue exceeded any expectation or desire you had. Expertly flicking against your throbbing clit as he works two fingers in you. You feel the groan he lets out when he dips his tongue into your hole before you hear it. The vibrations reverberate up your spine and through your body, an all-consuming heat starting in your stomach, threatening to let loose, to run rampant on your body. His fingers, joined by another, return to your clenching hole and search for the spongy spot hidden deep inside. All you can hear is the blood rushing through your head, drowning out every other noise.

“C’mon love, cum on my fingers, on my tongue, I’ve wanted, dreamed about this for years, give it to me.” His slow words juxtaposed the fervent pace of his fingers and it was enough to send you over the edge.

You feel so hot you fear you might pass out, the groan Makki lets out beneath you is the only thing keeping you grounded. You were first concerned that you had hurt him in someway, but when you see his eyes roll back into his head and his tongue trying to lap up every single bit of cum you squirted on his face and thighs, you know it wasn’t due to excruciating pain, rather it's just an obscene reaction to you.

When you push him back, squirming with overstimulation, you hear him scramble and “Shit! Fuck! Fire extinguisher?? WHERE IS YOUR FIRE EXTINGUISHER???” You are still out of it until he starts actually screaming, words still evade you but he follows your line of sight to the red tube hiding in the corner next to the fridge. The smell of smoke is overwhelming all of a sudden. You were in a dreamlike post orgasmic state and suddenly your coughing, eyes hazy.

the cookies, SHIT THE COOKIES!! Smoke is billowing out of the oven and your fire alarm is blaring, but soon the room is filled with a white foam originating from Makki. You never realized that the foam would continue to expand until half of your kitchen was covered in it and you saw a sheepish looking Makki on the other side.

“Fires out”. Again, he starts to laugh at you, and this time you join him. Today has turned out entirely different than you expected. It wasn’t a sad day, it was filled with laughter, romance, an ill timed fire and Makki. All in all, a successful holiday, despite the fact everything you cooked was coated in foam. He’d seen you staring at the food and already took his phone out to order food, “Indian or ramen?”

Yeah, you think you’re grandma would be happy seeing you like this. Happy Holidays.

a/n: i don’t really know what this is but the image of makki being a disaster in the kitchen came to me one day and here we are. make sure you read the other fics in the collab

matsukawa’s funeral home winter collab

a/n 2.0: also a/o to @iwaasfairy for making that makki image that i used in my header. i love her more than i love him which say a lot

#hanamaki takahiro #hanamaki drabble #hanamaki x y/n #hanamaki smut #haikyuu smut #makki smut #makki x reader #makki x you #hanamaki x reader #hanamaki.coffee #kristen.writes #oral.espresso

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gladerwolfstarkimagines · 4 years ago

Text

Mako x female water bender imagine

Imagine volunteering to be Mako and Bolin’s stand-in water bending teammate for a few pro-bending matches and Mako strongly opposing the idea, telling you flat out you’re not good enough. You and Mako have always had a rocky relationship and you figure his dislike for you is why he won’t let you compete but it’s more the opposite. He’s refusing to let you compete because he has feelings for you and doesn’t want you to get hurt.

Part two here

Your POV

You could tell the training session had gone badly from the second you heard Mako and Bolin’s footsteps on the approach to your shared loft. If they’d had a good session Bolin would always come bounding in but the footsteps were slow and heavy so you knew they’d had another hard time. “Hey y/n” Bolin said pushing the door open dramatically and you frowned “that bad huh?”. Bolin nodded his head “we sucked and Hasook quit!”. “He quit?” you asked surprised, you knew their water bender team mate was flaky but to quit right in the middle of a season? “But why?” you asked “you’ve only lost a few matches you have pleanty of time to turn the season around”. “He doesn’t care” Mako sighed “he’s never really cared and now he’s just abandonned us”. “I still think he’ll come back if you maybe just apologise...” Bolin started and Mako spun on “I will not apologise! I meant what I said, he’s not even a good probender we can find someone else”. “But by tomorrow?” Bolin asked “Mako we don’t have any reserves”. “I know but I was thinking we could try poaching one from another team”. “We can’t afford that” Bolin cried “we can barely afford me and you!”. Mako sighed “well we’ll think of someway...”. “How? Mako if we don’t find someone and soon then we’re toast, we’ll be kicked out of the league, out of the loft..”. “Don’t you think I know that” Mako cried and you coughed awkwardly. “I could do it?”. Mako and Bolin paused mid argument and looked at you. “I mean until you find a professional replacement, I could fill in temporarily”. Mako frowned but Bolin grinned "seriously? You’d do that for us?". You shrugged "i mean yeah why not? I’m not a bad water bender, I could do it until you find someone more qualified". Bolin cheered ready to celebrate when Mako ruined the mood with one word. "No" Mako said without even considering the idea and you felt your excitment plummet. "Why? I know all your plays and both of you well, plus i’ve helped you out at practices before and if you don’t have someone by tomorrow you’re out for the season". "Exactly" bolin nodded "y/n’s the perfect fit". You grinned as Bolin wrapped an arm around you and both turned awkwardly to Mako waiting for the final verdict. He seemed in a worse mood than ever and rolled his eyes "you’re not qualified, you'll get hurt and be a liability, you’re not doing it" and walked away. “A liabilty?” you called after him but he didn’t reply. You turned to Bolin furious “a liability?”. “He didn’t mean that he’s just angry, I’ll work on it I promise”. You frowned and went to follow Mako to argue with him but Bolin caught your arm “no y/n why don’t you both cool off? I’ll start a nice meal and then when we’re all calm, rested and fed we can discuss it properly, yes?”. You sighed but nodded “okay”. “Great” Bolin cried “you go relax I’ll call you when dinner’s ready”.

Your stomach growled and you frowned at the door. It had been 2 hours and still no call from Bolin, how much longer did he think you needed to calm down? You sighed before realising you couldn’t hear any noise from the kitchen, if Bolin was cooking surely he’d be making noise. You opened your door and found the loft empty, Bolin and the food nowhere in sight. Actually that wasn’t right, the ingredients were all there but that was as far as Bolin got apparently. You sighed shaking your head and started making the food instead. Five minutes later Mako’s door opened “Bolin how much longer is the food going to take i’m starving” before stopping when he saw you. “Bolin didn’t get past taking the ingredients out of the fridge so you’re going to have wait a while” you said coldly and Mako nodded. “Well if i help it’ll get done quicker” and grabbed some vegetables that needed peeling. As Mako joined you in the kitchen you realised this was probably a set up. You suspected Bolin had done this on purpose and sighed. Mako stood next to you but made no effort to talk or even look in your direction. It was uncomfortably tense and you couldn’t not saying anything. “So you changed your mind yet?” you asked and Mako shook his head “nope”. “You realise you’re being stupid don’t you?” you asked “there’s no reaon why I couldn’t atleast try!”. “Yeah well I’m the leader and I say you’re not doing it”. You scoffed and threw the pan you were holding down leaving the kitchen. “Y/n” Mako sighed “I’m not doing this because I want to, I’m doing it for you”. “For me? because I’m so useless I couldn’t possibly be of use to you?” you yelled and Mako sighed. "Y/n I’m not refusing to let you play because i think you’re useless". "Yeah well calling me a liability really proves that" you scoffed and Mako glared. "I’m trying to apologise". "Ow really?" you asked "because usually that starts with i’m sorry y/n or i was wrong or i was a dick, not i don’t think you’re completely useless y/n". "I didn’t say it like that you’re twisting my words!" Mako cried and you rolled your eyes "whatever i’m going out". "You are? But y/n it’s late" Mako said worried considering the neighbourhod you lived in. You didn’t care though and ignored him slamming the door hard.

Mako’s POV

Mako was furious, you were so infuriating when you got angry! You were so stubborn and never listened to him. It was dark and late, you shouldn’t be going out into the streets alone, you lived in an awful neighbourhood. Not to mention considering the three of you used to be associated with the Shady Shin’s gang all the gangs around here know who you are. He waited ten minutes before following you, his anger overshadowed by his worry for you. Mako had an idea of where you’d go. Although you’d left Shady Shin’s gang with Mako and Bolin you still held the gang in a positive view and had the ridiculous notion the gang members were simply *old friends* and treated them as such. Mako told you not to, he told you the gang didn’t care about you anymore but would you listen? No. Mako entered the gang’s chosen bar and looked around for you. He couldn’t spot you but knew you’d be here somewhere. "Mako?" someone called and he turned to see an *old friend*. "Thought you’d gone straight" the man smirked "you finally come crawling back realising that life doesn’t work for guys like us?" the man asked and Mako resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "No i’ve just lost something and thought it might be here". “Your brother’s girl? She’s here". Mako forgot how much he hated that, everyone at the gang assumed you and Bolin were a thing just because you obviously got on. "Y/n isn’t Bolin’s girl" Mako spat and the man smirked raising an eyebrow "ow yeah forgot you were sweeter on her than him even though she’s with him more...that’s gotta be annoying, her prefering him". "Where is she?" Mako asked through gritted teeth and the man smirked as Mako grabbed him. "She’s back there, in Shadys Shin’s private box, guess one of his men’s taking a liking to her too, i’d hurry if i was you". Mako pushed through the door quickly and scanned the room for you. He spotted you sat with the only other girl in the room, some girl you still classed as a friend, Shady Shin not far away from you. Everyone looked up as Mako entered apart from you. The girl beside you nudged you and you looked up and paled seeing Mako.

Your POV

"Hey y/n thought you said none of your loser boys would be here" one of Shady Shin’s men called. You grimanced and glared at the speaker "he’s not mine and i didn’t know he’d be here". “Well get rid of him before we do” Shady Shin snarled. You saw Mako get ready for a fight and stood up “fine alright i’ll sort it”. You reached Mako and tugged his arm towards the door. As soon as you were out of ear shot Mako launched into a lecture "why are you here?" he cried "y/n these are bad people and you came alone! I know you think they care about you but they don’t, not like me and Bolin do!". "Bolin sure" you nodded "you only ever tolerated me, you let me hang around because i was good at being sneaky, because the rent 3 ways was cheaper, because Bolin wanted me there not because you did". "You know that’s not true" Mako said "you know i like you". "Ow yeah how have you proved that?". "So what just because i’m not like Bolin and don’t wear my heart on my sleeve i can’t like you? I’m just not emotional like him y/n! I don’t do elaborate gestures to prove i like you". "So what do you do?" you cried and Mako glared. "I pretend i’ve split the food three ways when i split it two ways between you and Bolin, i get into fights with shady shins men over them waiting outisde our apartment for you, i change my training schedule or Bolin’s so one of us can finish at the same time you finish work so you don’t have to walk home in the dark alone, I come in here knowing i’ll have so many targets on my back but i do it anyway! I make you so angry at me by refusing to let you compete in the tournament because i’m terrified of you getting hurt y/n! It’s my worst fear something bad happening to you or Bolin...that’s why I can’t have you in the ring with us! I know Bolin can take a hit but I can still protect him to an extent but if you were both there...I can’t protect both of you and if something happened to you in the tournament...i’d rather get kicked out then let that happen". "You...that’s why you didnt want me competing? you don’t think i’m useless?". Mako shook his head "no i actually think you’d be a good fit but i’ve seen the best taken out by rogue disks or a slap of water...i don’t pro-bend because i enjoy it! I do it because it gave me, you and Bolin a home, a way to escape the gang, i did it to keep you safe not to put you in danger". You paused and looked at Mako "why didn’t you just tell me all this? Why make yourself out as the bad guy?". "I don’t know because it’s easy to sell? I’m used to being the stick in the mud so it’s easy. Because it’s easier to act like i don’t care or be rude than admit that i do? Because i’m scared of what you'll think of me if i do...if you know how much i care". You smiled "Mako..." you started but he carried on. "But i’m sick of that, I’m tired of seeing you look at me like you hate me when you look at Bolin with so much fondness. I’m sick of Bolin getting all your affection, all your smiles and you think i’m just some cold prick who doesn’t care about you but i do care y/n a lot and i want to show you that! I want affection from you! I want...well you". You paused surprised but smiled "you do?". Mako nodded and then seeing the way you were looking at him crashed into you. Mako was in such a rush it was messy and a bit harsh but you didn’t care. The kiss was good, really good. This was why Mako was so popular with girls you figured wrapping your arms around his neck. Mako seemed genuinely surprised you would kiss him back but that didn’t stop him making the most of it. He pushed you back against the door hastily and you smirked at his enthusiasm. "And all this time I thought you hated me" you breathed and Mako shook his head breaking away from you long enough to look you in the eye "never, more of the opposite". He kissed you again and you smiled getting more and more lost in the feeling when the police showed up. Sirens blared and you and Mako jumped apart. "We can’t be spotted here" Mako said grabbing your hand "if we get caught we won’t be allowed to compete tomorrow, we have to go!". You nodded and followed as Mako dragged you away from the noise. You scrambled over fences and across rooftops until the sirens died away and you neared your home. You were still hand in hand as you ascended to your attic and Mako paused outside the door "y/n...". "You said we" you smiled "when the police showed up, you said if we can’t get caught because we won’t be able to complete tomorrow, we not you, does this mean you’re letting me join the team?". Mako sighed but nodded "i can’t protect you forever, if you want to do this i’ll support you". You grinned "even though you like me?". Mako nodded swallowing nervously "yes, you're not mine to tell what to do even if i like you". "Good answer" you smiled and went to open the door but Mako stopped you "erm y/n...you kissed me back, atleast I think you did, does that mean...do you like me too?". "You tell me" you shrugged leaning up to kiss him again. This time you made it slow and deliberate instead of the heated kiss from before. You lingered and took your time and when you pulled away Mako was breathless. "yes?" he asked and you smirked "yes Mako". Mako grinned and unlocked the door in a daze. You smiled as he lumbered into the room glancing at you every so often. The air was tense between you again but now in a good way. Bolin burst in suddenly and picked up on the tension immediately "Hey what happened in here, it feels weird". "We sorted it" you replied looking to Mako who smirked "yeah y/n’s competing with us tomorrow". "She is?" Bolin asked "you agreed to that?". Mako nodded "if y/n wants to do it who am i stop her?". You shot him an approving smile as Bolin hugged you "yay y/n this is going to be so cool!". Bolin crashed you into a hug again and you smiled but looked over his shoulder at Mako. Knowing all you knew now it was like looking at a completely different person. Now when he looked at you, that familiar intense serious look, it made you blush, made you feel cared for and protected. When you saw his lips twitch you knew he was trying not to smile and he turned away cheeks slightly red. If only he’d told you sooner...but it was okay, you were good at making up for lost time.

----

So i’m planning on maybe doing a continuation of this with them being teammates who live together, train together and compete together all while dating and trying to keep it a secret from Bolin all at the same time but i’ll see :)

#mako #lok #lok mako #avatar mako #avatar #mako imagine #lok mako imagine #mako x reader #lok imagine #legend of korra #legend of korra mako #legend of korra imagine #bolin #fire ferrets #pro bending #water bending #shady shin #lok bolin #avatar bolin

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thelightofthingshopedfor · 4 years ago

Text

gotta say I’m particularly pleased with Loki using magic fireworks to show off, because I literally put that in the Steve/Loki fic I wrote for @veliseraptor a few years ago, where they sort of grow up together as childhood friends because of handwavey time-travel shenanigans:

Loki shrugs, looking down. After a moment he says, “We Aesir live such long lives that we mark such events differently as we age, or at least that is the common practice. Young children’s birthdays are celebrated every year; later, perhaps the day is marked in small ways but is truly celebrated once each decade, or once per century for adults and those nearing adulthood. I am approaching that age myself, so it is not as though I expect a regular, lavish celebration or anything of that sort. It is only…”

“Thor gets a bigger party?” Steve guesses.

“A feast of some kind, most years,” Loki says, his voice flat. “It is good for our warriors’ morale, you see. When he turned 750, the festivities lasted nearly a fortnight, and he was gifted with Mjolnir, a weapon of great power. So I thought…well.”

“Yesterday was your 750th too,” Steve says (it still feels unreal to him to measure someone’s lifespan with numbers that high, but when he does the math in his head, he’s pretty sure that’s about equivalent to 15, so basically Steve’s age).

Loki looks down again and nods. “In truth, I am not sure anyone remembered this year was anything out of the ordinary.”

Steve and his mom have never had much, but she’s always managed to make Christmas and his birthday special in some small way, taking extra shifts to afford an art book for him or ingredients for a cake. He’s been a little jealous sometimes of the stuff other kids’ parents can afford, but he’s never, ever felt forgotten. In every other way, Loki’s so much richer that Steve can barely comprehend it, but—

“Well,” he says, “I can’t throw you a feast, but I can take you to Coney Island for ice cream or something.”

“Ice cream,” Loki says.

“Yeah, haven’t you—no, of course you haven’t had ice cream, that’s my fault. I don’t really want to spend money on the rides right now, but just walking around is fun, and I can at least do ice cream.”

“I would like that,” Loki admits.

***

“Here we go, this vendor doesn’t charge extra for toppings.”

Loki balks again when Steve pulls out his wallet. “You needn’t, truly.”

“I know,” Steve says. “But it’s your birthday, and I want to.” He buys them both double-scoop cones with chocolate sauce and hands one to Loki as they head down the boardwalk. “Careful, it’ll melt and start dripping if you don’t eat it fast enough. Uh, but don’t eat it too fast or you’ll get a headache. You just lick it.”

Loki smiles sidelong at him, looking faintly amused. “I think I can manage.” He licks at the ice cream once, delicately, and then his eyes widen a little and he returns to it with a lot more enthusiasm.

“I guess you like it,” Steve says, grinning.

“This is good. I wonder if the cooks at home could make something similar.” He catches a drip running down the side of the cone. “How is it made?”

“No idea. I bet we could look it up somewhere, though. I think it’s milk, ice, and sugar, mostly.”

“Mm.” Loki’s almost reached the cone already—maybe Asgardians just don’t get ice cream headaches—and is finally slowing down. “Well, if you can find me a recipe, I will see what can be done.” He neatly sidesteps a child running between them and smiles at Steve in a way that makes his heartbeat pick up. “Thank you, my friend.”

Steve ducks his head. “Glad you like it.” His own ice cream is starting to melt, and taking care of that keeps him occupied for a few minutes. Then Loki hops up to sit on the boardwalk railing, facing the beach and the water. Steve scrambles up next to him a lot less gracefully, but he manages, and for a little while they just watch the boats and beachgoers, with the Wonder Wheel standing sentinel overhead.

“When is your birthday?” Loki asks.

“July 4, actually. Just a couple months away now. There’s always…” His lips twitch. “My mom used to say the fireworks were just for me, like the city was wishing me a happy birthday too.”

“I am afraid this is another custom with which I am unfamiliar.”

“Right, yeah, of course. July 4 is America’s independence day, since back in—well, actually, that’s not important. Everybody celebrates with fireworks, they’re like colorful little explosions, and we don’t have a great view but my mom started taking me up to the roof to see better.” Steve laughs a little. “I think she felt bad after a while for telling me the fireworks were for me, but I’d already figured it out, and honestly I didn’t mind. I’m nobody special, I know the city’s not going to celebrate me, but it’s still nice feeling like everyone’s celebrating with me.”

“Well,” Loki says, “to your assertion that you are ‘nobody special,’ I would be inclined to point out that you are almost certainly the only living human to count a prince of Asgard as a friend. Which…focuses on me rather more than I intended.”

Steve snorts. “That was pretty much luck anyway, right? You could’ve stumbled across anybody.”

“True enough. But I met you instead, and I am glad of it. If either of us has cause to be grateful for that luck, I think it would be me.” He darts a glance toward Steve and then away, studying the shoreline, and Steve is suddenly struck by how beautiful Loki is. He’s noticed before, but not quite like this, with the breeze ruffling Loki’s hair and the sun highlighting those fine, sharp features Steve is always itching to draw. He doesn’t just want to draw Loki now, though; mostly he’s wondering what it would be like to kiss him.

***

The next time Steve sees him, it’s slightly more than two months later and he’s sitting on the roof sketching the skyline when Loki pops into existence next to him. He’s doing a terrible job of trying to hide a self-satisfied grin, so whatever his latest prank was, it must have gone well. Before he can ask, Loki says, “Your birthday is soon, yes?”

“Last week, actually.”

“Damn. I’d hoped to find you on the day itself, but—well, nothing for it now. I wanted…” He reaches into a satchel, hesitates, and pulls out a small wooden box. “I brought you a gift. A small thing, but—I hope you like it.”

Steve sets his sketchbook aside and takes the box, intrigued. The top opens on a hinge; inside, cradled in a nest of straw, is a black crystal ball about the size of Steve’s two fists, with a polished wooden base. When he pulls it out, flecks of color glint across its surface wherever the sun hits it. It’s pretty, but he can’t think why Loki would give him a fancy paperweight, and he’s not sure how to ask without sounding ungrateful.

“Put your hand on the sphere,” Loki says, his voice still full of suppressed excitement, “and think of your fireworks.”

Steve does. A tiny spark of light shoots up from the base of the globe and bursts under his fingers, then another and another, red and blue and gold and green, spiraling downward and fading out before exploding again, and his confusion turns to wonder as he stares at it. It’s like a snow globe but it’s full of little fireworks instead, fireworks that look just like the real thing in silent, miniature form. He turns it in his hand and the lights follow the motion, sinking back to and shooting out from what’s now the bottom, in spirals and spiders and starbursts.

“Fireworks in a jar,” Steve says. “This is incredible.”

Loki grins. “It is, isn’t it? I didn’t make the globe, of course, I bought that, but the enchantment is mine, built from scratch.”

Steve turns the globe again, marveling at the tiny little world in his hands. “I thought you didn’t know what fireworks were?”

“As it happens, they are a very old invention—as Midgard marks time, anyway—so I was able to observe some myself at a celebration of some kind in China, and I replicated those. So…now you have fireworks that really are just for you.”

The globe is slightly warm against his palms, and Steve closes his hands over it. “This is—way better than anything I gave you.”

Loki looks at him with a crooked smile. “I suppose that is a matter of perspective.”

I mean, I guess I was wrong about fireworks not being a thing on Asgard, but still, it’s fun. :)

#loki #steve rogers #loki show #loki spoilers #frostshield #steve/loki #fanfic #marvel cinematic universe #me shamelessly using new canon to plug an old fic? it's more likely than you think #look I'm practically incapable of finishing anything

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narutoblog · 4 years ago

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can i request minato x kushina younger sister scenario pls? thank you 😁

a/n: eek this is my first request; i’m so honored & excited <3 <3 that being said tho, I got a bit carried away with this scenario & it turned into a full fanfic story w/multiple parts, my b 😩 i’ll try to post part 2 tomorrow (it’ll have more fluff i promise)

Everlasting Beauty (Part 1)

prompt: Minato x Kushina’s younger sister OC (Kumiko); these two are dating, but Kushina didn’t know & she’s an overprotective big sis

Content/warning: set before 3rd shinobi war, Kushina & Minato are 16(ish?), Kumiko is 14-15;; mostly backstory & wholesome depiction of the sisters <3;; little bit of angst/loneliness in this first part

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fall had arrived in Konoha – the crisp wind gently passed through the trees as the streets were dusted with the remnants of summer. Kumiko had always felt attune to this time of year. It was something about the way the reddish brown leaves seemed to swirl across the ground with a mind of their own that mesmerized her, and she often found herself sitting in the Uzumaki courtyard letting her thoughts drift away with the leaves.

The Uzumaki home wasn’t big (it didn’t need to be, considering the dwindling size of the clan), but it was more than enough for Kumiko and her older sister, Kushina. As far back as Kumiko could remember, it had always just been the two of them. She was too young to remember their parents, but Kushina often told her stories of their parents’ bravery before they went to sleep. It became a nightly ritual; Kushina and Kumiko would tuck themselves into bed next to one another and Kumiko would fall asleep to the excited voice of Kushina retelling stories of their invisible heroes. Kushina would fall asleep soon afterwards, feeling assured by the soft breathing of her little sister.

Back in the day, it didn’t take long for Kushina’s temper to become well known by the children of Konoha. After she enrolled in the academy, Kushina faced bully after bully who made fun of her red hair and her ambition to be the first female Hokage. She was a born fighter and made it clear to her offenders that she wouldn’t back down, no matter what; she couldn’t afford to, not when she had a younger sister who would start the academy soon after her with the same trademark Uzumaki hair. Kushina was quickly labeled the “red hot habanero,” but much to her bullies’ dismay, she wore the name with pride. Afterwards, she spent her first few years as a genin with an impeccable mission record to prove to everyone that the Uzumaki clan weren’t just simple outsiders to be underestimated. Time and time again, Kumiko watched her sister claim victory over what seemed like the impossible. Kushina had ferociously fought off her bullies, graduated to genin level, and succeeded in missions with an actual team. To Kumiko, her sister was a real-life hero – similar to the ones she’d heard about in Kushina’s stories, but tangible and alive.

By the time Kumiko started the academy two years after her, the Uzumaki name was well known among other kids, but somewhat feared, and no one dared to mess with the red hot habanero’s sister. In fact, no one dared to talk to her at all. For most of her time in the academy, Kumiko spent her days sitting in the corner of the classroom away from the other girls giggling behind her, or throwing practice shuriken in the yard while the other kids played ninja in the courtyard. She was recognized by her clan name only and ignored in all other aspects; Kumiko jokingly wondered if she had some sort of unknown jutsu that made her invisible around the other students.

The Uzumaki clan, however, has always had an undeniable strength that allowed them to endure and continue in the face of adversity. While Kushina’s strength was loud and aflame, Kumiko discovered that her strength was one found in stillness, as the bedrock guiding the path of a crashing river.

After graduating from the academy, Kumiko spent every morning in the Uzumaki courtyard, meditating on a flat stone next to the small pond. When her sister began training for the chunin exams, Kumiko threw herself into intense training of her own to perfect her chakra control. Working closely with her sensei, she developed a knack for medical ninjutsu and began interning at the hospital to develop her skills further. On days when Kushina was home from missions, Kumiko asked her to help improve her taijutsu and teach her the Uzumaki sealing jutsu. With their enormous chakra reserves, they trained relentlessly, interrupted only by their grumbling stomachs which they happily filled at their favorite dumpling shop. In a short few years, the Uzumaki sisters had made themselves an invaluable part of the fabric of Konoha; the red hot habanero was a fierce jonin kunoichi with a trapping and sealing specialty, while her sister quickly became one of the head medical ninja in the hospital, promoted to chunin and already leading teams through hours of intense surgery without breaking a sweat.

With political tensions running high between the great nations, the number of dangerous and intense missions were increasing, even for chunin and genin teams. But due to their different specialties, Kushina and Kumiko often only crossed paths at home or at the hospital after returning from a mission. Kumiko was often stationed in the hospital for emergency operations or called in by messenger bird whenever necessary; Kushina, on the other hand, was often placed on front-line teams to gather intel on the other nations, which ultimately meant high-risk missions where death was not unlikely. Most recently, Lord Third had sent Kushina with a team gathering intel on Kirigakure forces, and she wasn’t due to return for another two days.

Kumiko drifted back to reality as a sigh escaped her lips. I wonder how Kushina’s doing.. she thought, as a stray leaf brushed against her cheek. She shook her head and picked out the leaf that had now lodged itself in her hair and held it up to examine it. The leaf was long and jagged, one that she didn’t recognize from the Uzumaki courtyard. Still a little dazed from her wandering thoughts, Kumiko blinked and tried to focus her eyes on the leaf when the wind ripped it out of her hand and dropped it into the pond. Kumiko’s skin raised slightly in goosebumps as she stepped towards the water to look for the leaf. It was torn clean in half, each end floating away from one another as it rode the ripples of the pond.

Just as Kumiko realized the probable omen, a messenger bird from the hospital flew down and perched itself on her shoulder. Kumiko did her best to not flinch too hard to avoid scaring the bird. She unraveled the small scroll and revealed a message that summoned her immediately to the operating room. She quickly imprinted her chakra signature on the scroll to let them know she was on her way, then tied the message to the bird and let it fly away. Kumiko’s instincts kicked in as she ran through her mental list of preparations for working at the hospital. She changed into her hospital uniform, grabbed her medical notes, and rushed onto the roofs of Konoha, racing towards emergency room.

When Kumiko arrived at the hospital, the medical staff were in an unusual frenzy. She joined the other medical staff in the hurry as she tried to gather as much information as she could from scribbled charts, but there wasn’t enough information.

“Kumiko! Over here!” Kumiko jolted her head up and looked down the hallway to see the jonin in charge frantically waving in her direction. She navigated past the other medical staff and civilians to get closer, then followed the jonin into the operating room near the end of the hall. “We’ve got two teams back from their A-rank missions, four with moderate injuries, two in intensive care,” the jonin explained as she scrubbed her hands, forearms, then put on sterile gloves. Kumiko followed suit as she listened. “We pulled her into the operating room a few minutes ago because her chakra levels weren’t responding to the emergency treatment and we can’t figure out why; we need to detect any abnormalities in the chakra network to see if it has been tampered with and restore her levels immediately,” the jonin spoke quickly, nodding to the patient on the table.

Kumiko nodded in understanding, then followed the jonin’s gaze to the patient. She could hear the jonin in charge hold her breath as Kumiko noticed the curtain of red hair spilling out from underneath the medical cover. no… no no no nono..

“Kumiko,” she heard her name from somewhere in the distance. She wanted to look for whoever called her name, but she couldn’t move. Her eyes were glued to the red hair she knew so well, the thick strands that had always roared with life at Kushina’s anger and yet were somehow so limp in the operating room, gone of their previous passions, lifeless.

“No,” Kumiko’s voice choked as she struggled to regain feeling in her hands. “No, no, no, it can’t..”

“Kumiko,” her name was spoken more firmly this time, laced with urgency. She turned her head slowly, painfully dragging her eyes away from her sister’s body. The jonin gave her a grave look. “We can save her, but we need your help. You’re the only one on staff who has as much chakra as Kushina does, and right now, we need you to focus and do what you do best. We can do this, I promise. You can do it.”

Kumiko gulped and tried to take a deep breath. She quickly finished putting on her gloves and nodded, following the jonin closer to Kushina’s body. The jonin did a quick scan then began giving orders to the other operating staff, requesting injections and creating a list of ingredients for a possible antidote. She turned to Kumiko, who stood still, listening to her sister’s weak breathing. “Kumiko,” the jonin said. Kumiko looked up. “Prepare for a chakra transfusion,” Kumiko nodded, understanding her orders. “But Kumiko,” she looked up again. “do NOT push the limit. I mean it. We need you on the other side of the operation, we can’t take care of you and save her too. Understood?” She nodded again and gathered her hands to prepare for the chakra transfusion. Once she had built up a steady flow from her network to her hands, she placed them gently on Kushina’s vital points to push chakra into her body. She cringed as she felt the chakra rush out of her system, but stayed focused. I will not let you go like this, Kumiko shouted in her head. Not like this, not ever! With an unmistakable Uzumaki fire in her eyes, Kumiko nodded at the others to begin the operation.

*************************************************

Minato had known Kushina from their academy days, but he hadn’t seen her around much after their genin teams were formed. Most of his time was spent training under Master Jiraiya, who spent half their time doing “research” by the onsens. But Minato was ever quick to learn and ingeniously skilled; under Jiraiya’s guidance, he quickly mastered the toad sage mode and developed a strong relationship with his toad summons. In the few years after leaving the academy, Minato rose through the ranks and was promoted to jonin. His trademark technique of the flying raijin gave him the name “yellow flash of the leaf,” and his speed combined with his original jutsu of the rasengan made him feared by all the great nations. And yet for all his talent, he couldn’t protect his teammates on this mission. Elite shinobi or not, he was still left sitting in a pool of worry outside the ICU, anxiously waiting for some news about his injured teammates.

As the hours passed, Minato stayed put in the area outside of his teammates’ rooms, watching medics flow in and out. The only proof of the passage of time was a nurse that stopped by every now and then to check and replace his bandages.

“You should get some rest,” a familiar voice suggested, placing a weighted hand on his shoulder. Minato struggled against his heavy eyelids and shook his head, determined to stay by his teammates until he was able to see them with his own eyes. Jiraiya chuckled and let out a deep sigh. “You know, you may be a smart kid, but you’re still young.” Minato raised his head to meet his sensei’s gaze slowly and Jiraiya gave him a grim look. “To be a shinobi is to endure, even if that is the consequences of our decisions.” Minato grit his teeth and looked away. “You decided a plan of action you thought was best, but this time, the enemy outsmarted you. Should things have gone their way, all of you would be dead.” Jiraiya slowly turned to walk away. “Your team was able to get out there alive. Use this opportunity to get stronger.. Or else next time, you won’t have the chance, “ Jiraiya advised, walking away towards the front door, one arm held up in goodbye. Minato looked at Jiraiya’s back, replaying his words in his head. Next time.. I’ll protect them.. he vowed as his body slumped in the chair, finally falling asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

part 2 is here!!

#naruto imagines #naruto fanfiction #naruto shippuden #kushina uzumaki #minato x reader #minato x oc #reader request #naruto headcanons

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prinxlyart · 4 years ago

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Oh thos warm moments of redemption hit me right in the feels >///<. (I'mma definitely gonna compile all your headcanons in one doc and you can't stop me!). Anyways, now getting back to lumity (prepare thyselve because I'm HUNGRY): How does the redeemed Odalia's relationship with Luz and Willow develop? And regarding our three girls in particular, how do they act right after their proposals, during the wedding and on their honeymoon?

(Lmao please, lord knows I’ll never put any of these into a doc)

Hmmm, that’s a really good question. Er, several questions. Imma go in order of how they were asked.

[tw: for mentions of severe depression /thoughts of suicide starting with bullet #4. I’ll be sure to add the warnings before and after the section as well. Please continue with caution.]

Blight Parents’ relationship with their daughters-in-law:

I think just due to how they got to where they are by this point, they both have a soft spot for Luz. She’s the one that reached out to them in the first place after all of their kids left the family. They feel a v specific gratitude towards her and Camila both because these humans work so hard to get shit done. It’s an admirable trait. One they’re glad the Nocedas aimed at them. It’s taken so much time and energy to get the Blights be, like. Tolerable people? And then even more to get them to actually act like parents.

I think at first, any time they’re unsure of how to act or react to a situation, they’ll go to Luz for guidance. They’ve gone their whole lives up until just a few years ago acting a certain way and just flipping all that? It can be difficult to break those habits. Any time they feel they should react in anger or irritation or disgust, they stop and think “no, wait. What would Luz/Camila do? Would they get mad...?” And they just give her a look of confusion and guilt before Luz mimes the sort of reaction that would be healthiest. Any time Amity catches them literally looking to Luz on how to act supportive she just rolls her eyes. They’re trying and that’s what matters.

I think at first they just don’t know how to interact with Willow. They apologized for how they treated her in the past at great length, but Willow just sort of nodded along quietly. They weren’t used to that sort of reaction (granted they’ve only just started doing this “apologizing” thing for a few months at this point in time. They’re still getting the hang of it). So they sit uncomfortably for a while until Willow sighs and sort of sits up straighter. She’d resolved to tell them about how their careless and cruel treatment of Amity was the first step in a chain reaction to Willow’s life becoming absolutely miserable for years to follow.

Not only was she forced to lose her best friend at that birthday party, but she had to do so in the cruelest way possible. Amity explained to her years back that she pretended to not like her because she couldn’t do magic to hide the fact that her parents threatened Willow. Because the Blights are supposed to be perfect. Amity has always been smart and she knew what would happen if she let it slip that they had threatened her. If Willow knew the truth, she’d tell her dads and her dads would try to confront them about it. It would end up turning into a scandal (although Amity admitted she wasn’t familiar with the word at the time; it was just one of those words she heard her mom use a lot for situations that were bad). So as a result of Amity doing her part to “protect” the Blight name, she shunned Willow from her life and broke both their hearts in the process.

[TW: discussion of severe depression and thoughts/intentions of suicide. If you’re in a vulnerable headspace right now, please scroll until you see the next notice signaling the end of the section. And please, if you’re struggling with depression and/or thoughts of suicide, please please please seek professional help.]

Willow recounts the years of endless bullying, not always by Amity’s new friends, but often by them. She tells them how Amity wouldn’t necessarily participate so much as observe with a carefully schooled expression. And then there were times when Amity did bully her, and that hurt so much more than everyone else combined. All so she wouldn’t be publicly shamed or get in trouble with her parents for associating with someone like Willow.

She tells them that it literally took Luz coming into their lives for any of that to change. Amity had turned 7 on the birthday she cut Willow out of her life, and they were 14 when Luz showed up. Half of Willow’s entire life up to that point had been friendless (or nearly friendless) and so severely bullied that she was actually debating growing a Graveleaf plant to brew tea with. She still has to take a daily healing potion prescribed by her doctor to keep her mind from falling back to that same state it used to be in. Yes, her life has greatly improved ever since Luz showed up and helped repair her friendship with Amity. Yes, it’s only gotten better since then. Yes, she loves her fiancées with everything she has. But that doesn’t mean all that pain has suddenly been erased and it doesn’t always stop her brain from sinking back into its depressed state.

Needless to say, the Blights are absolutely floored with all of this information. They’re both frozen in shock, they don’t know what to do or say to such an admission. Willow just continues though. She tells them that she’s so grateful to have Amity back in her life. That with therapy, her daily medicine, and time, she’s come a long way from where she once was. Her bad days aren’t nearly as bad as they were when she was a kid. She has both of her fiancées to support her and love her when she’s feeling down. She tells them that no, she can’t forgive them for what they’ve done. But she accepts their apology and appreciates them making the effort to make things right. Seeing Amity happy because her parents are actually trying to be better makes Willow happy.

I think......Alador would be the one to go to Willow and kneel before her and take her hand, apologizing with as much intent as he can muster. He’s a little more in touch with his emotions these days than Odalia is, and he’s lost a family member to suicide before. He knows how devastating it can be to everyone around them and he’s mortified at the fact that Willow had almost done the same. He understands how much she means to Amity and he comes to the realization mid-apology that he could have very well lost his own daughter in a similar fashion had Willow gone through with that. Odalia goes white as a sheet at hearing that, steadying herself in her chair and it makes Willow feel queasy, but she’s glad that he understands the severity of what they’d done. She does put a hand to Alador’s shoulder to comfort him as he reels from this realization and he stands properly again to wrap Willow in a hug as he cried, still muttering apologies through his tears. I think it takes a while for Odalia to be able to speak again, but Willow is able to see that that struggle means it’s rocked her to her core. Once Odalia is able to also stammer out her own apologies, Willow just gives her a small smile and nods.

[END OF SECTION. Now it’s all fluff from here on out. Have fun, kids.]

After that discussion, Alador and Odalia double down on the whole “being better” thing. During one of their weekly tea meetings, they ask Camila how they might start doing that in their daily lives too, not just for their children. Camila doesn’t know the first thing about their jobs or what they do or the people they work with, so she tells them to make a list of things they can think of that might’ve been considered hurtful to some degree. The tea definitely goes cold long before the list is done; Camila actually needs to leave before they finish it. The next meeting, there’s a comically large scroll of shit they’ve done sitting on the table and they are sitting with their heads cowed in shame. I think Camila pops an ibuprofen before her headache settles in.

They still don’t know how to do nice things without throwing money at it first. That takes a while for them to wrap their heads around. Luz and Willow aren’t ones for like. Big, extravagant, expensive things. They prefer the heartfelt stuff, like hand-made gifts or thoughtful acts of service. (Amity, however, insists they accept her parents ridiculously expensive weekend getaway trip to the Iliac Crest Hot Springs; the top of the left hip bone of the Titan. A well-known vacation spot for romantic getaways. Willow only accepts because she knows they’d never be able to afford that on their own and Luz accepts it as a wedding gift and an opportunity to go to a part of the Boiling Isles she’s never explored before.)

Alador is like every dad ever; he loves talking about random trivia shit to anyone who will listen. Luz is literally the only person that will listen because even though she’s lived in the Demon Realm for years now, she still doesn’t know all the “fun facts” that everyone else has grown up with. Sometimes she’ll bring up points about random trivia bits Alador is going on about and put in her own two snails about something she’s experienced regarding it, and she and Alador will go back and forth for a while like that, talking about the stuff they’ve experienced relating to that thing. Willow thinks it’s adorable and Amity is mostly just exasperated (but she also thinks it’s cute and she loves watching her dad bond with her fiancée like this).

Odalia will occasionally ask Amity about her abominations and they’ll sort of awkwardly talk for a while about the technicalities and ingredients and Odalia will mention adding an ingredient Amity’s never even considered before. When she inquires further, Odalia tells her that she’ll sometimes work with a friend in the Emperor’s coven that specialized in the plant track to experiment with creating abominations with different kinds of ingredients for different tasks. Amity is shocked and impressed to hear about her own mother mixing magic and teases her for breaking the rules right under the emperor’s nose. Odalia stammers at that (she’s still getting used to Belos no longer being in power and the stigma against mixing magic still runs strong in her mind), but eventually admits that yes, technically she’s mixed magic. Amity makes her promise to show her how with Willow and they make a whole day of it.

Spending the day making weird abominations with Odalia Blight was Not something Willow thought she’d ever say she’d done, but hey. She didn’t think King could beat Luz in that one eating contest either because where does he put all that food, but he ended up winning anyway. Willow and Amity are actually super excited to try mixing their knowledge of magic together; it almost feels intimate in a way. It’s something neither have tried before and are able to try for the first time together because it’s their specialties. Odalia guides them through the process of mixing different types of plants into the abomination mixture to make abominations specific for extra strength or abominations that help enhance healing magic just due to its properties. They all end up having a lot of fun that day, just making all sorts of varieties of abominations. By the time the day is done, they’re all covered in abomination goop because one of them accidentally exploded. Luz managed to get a picture of them all laughing together and covered in goop before they go to clean up. It’s one of her favorite pictures.

As time goes on, things get less and less tense between the Blight parents and Luz and Willow (especially with Willow). They grow more comfortable with being good parents, good people, and just kinder and more loving in general. There’s one day when the Blights come to visit and they greet each girl with a hug and kiss without really realizing it. They all go to settle down in the living room, but Amity’s still frozen at the doorway, covering her mouth and trying desperately to wipe away the tears that crept up at the display of affection. No one else had thought anything of it, but that was the first time her parents had shown the same and love and affection to both of her wives without any hesitation or fear of crossing boundaries. She cherishes the memory of that moment often.

Proposal Reactions:

I genuinely don’t know how these girls would propose to each other. There’s any number of possibilities; they’re all so creative. The part of me that wants to make funny cartoons would have them each scrambling to figure out the best way to propose to each other and getting into ridiculous hijinks when they try to get their friends’ help (Amity would ask Emira and Edric [and the detention gang by extension; Viney’s remained best friends with Jerbo and Barcus after all this time]. Willow I think would recruit Gus and oddly enough, Lilith [she sees Eda as too much of a mother to Luz to feel comfortable with asking her to help her propose to her daughter]. Luz would definitely ask Eda, King and Camila to help but regret it almost instantly). Of course everyone would end up tripping over one another and each proposal attempt would end in disaster but all three girls would see the resulting destruction (maybe several things on fire?) and just laugh their asses off. Because wow, this could’ve gone so much better, but hey, you guys wanna get married?

The sappy romantic in me tho. Would want them to discuss it thoroughly before hand; agree that yes they’d love to get married, they’re just not sure if it’s the right time. But Luz, being the person she is, would go and recruit everyone’s help in coming up with the best proposal ever. Willow and Amity are both busy with their respective jobs just enough to not notice all the scheming going on. And then one day when all 3 of them have the same day off, Luz takes them out for a fun day (whatever that entails; maybe a day at a carnival or just wandering around town or something). At the end of the day, she takes them somewhere significant (this could literally be anywhere, Grom Tree is a good place because of the view it has over the cliff’s edge, but yknow. Whatever suits their relationship as a trio) and everything is decked out in lights and decorations. And Amity and Willow are both stunned and enthralled by the display and they turn to see Luz down on one knee and holding two small boxes, holding one out to each of them and a super nervous smile on her face. Amity and Willow maybe accidentally tackle her to the ground when they tried to hug her.

During the wedding:

I think they’re all stressed during the wedding itself. They’re excited, of course, a whole ceremony dedicated to the three of them vowing to spend the rest of their lives together. They aren’t capable of imaging a life without each other at this point. But that doesn’t stop the nerves from settling in.

Eda’s constantly telling Luz to calm down before the ceremony actually begins; Luz is found pacing and coming up with doomsday scenarios out loud at light speed like she always does when she’s nervous. Camila and Eda are also nervous, but they’re doing their best to keep it together for Luz’s sanity. Camila’s making sure (with Emira, as Em is the Maid of Honor) that everything is going smoothly and according to plan. But she has similar nervous habits to Luz when she doesn’t have something to focus her attention on. She ends up fussing over Luz’s hair and getting rid of any imaginary wrinkles in her outfit, making sure her makeup is perfect until Eda tells her to quit treating Luz like a dress up doll. Eda’s really good at pep talks, even when she’s nervous, but she manages to calm both Nocedas down with her patented Soft Encouraging Voice.

Amity’s freaking out in her own way in a separate room with all of her girls (Emira, Skara, a fully and properly redeemed Boscha). She’s freaking out similarly to Luz in that she’s mumbling to herself all sorts of ridiculous what-ifs and wishing desperately that she could just be with Luz and Willow already because they bring her the most comfort. She’s not pacing like Luz though, she’s sitting while Emira and Skara do some intricate thing with her hair while Boscha’s doing her makeup but that doesn’t stop her from wringing her hands and bouncing her leg (something that Boscha has to tell her to stop doing every 30 seconds or she’ll mess up the makeup she’s doing). Emira’s giving her advice for every little “what-if” she can hear coming out of Amity, with some silly remarks from Boscha and Skara that actually puts Amity somewhat at ease. Having her girls acting calm and natural did help. She thanks them for doing as much at the reception.

Willow’s trying to get herself into game mode with a pep talk. No place for nerves, only well-thought action. She’s actually got Viney there with her (who had to kick Gus out because he was crying at just the sight of Willow in her wedding dress), as well as Bo and Kat (I think those are the names of the two healing track girls....someone tell me if I’m wrong, but I think Bo is the one in the Human Appreciation Society and I think Kat is the one with the glasses that played on Boscha’s team in the Grudgby match). Willow’s girls are all hyping her up like she’s about to enter a Grudgby match rather than a wedding ceremony, and the ridiculousness of it all is staving off her nerves. Viney’s also giving her own personal experience as advice; she may or may not have tripped during her own wedding and is making sure Willow knows how to avoid that at all costs.

I genuinely don’t know what the role of the Best Man is, but I know in one of my past headcanon posts I mentioned that both Edric and Gus are asked to fill that role (there’s no such thing as rules when you’ve got a human and two witches getting married on the boiling isles). I think while Emira and Camilia are helping their respective brides-to-be get ready, Edric and Gus are taking over making sure everything is running smoothly and all the guests know where to go. When they’re just sort of standing around and waiting for their next task, Gus starts tearing up again at the thought of Willow in her dress. Willow’s like the big sister he never had and now she’s getting married. Gus is constantly having to perform minor illusions on his face to make it look like he’s not about to cry or has already been crying. Edric hasn’t seen Amity yet, but he’s secretly doing the same thing whenever their minds aren’t preoccupied with whatever Event Tasks they need to focus on.

I think.....rather than a one-by-one thing, all three of our girls enter at the same time from different doors. Luz comes in from the left side door, Amity comes in from the right, and Willow comes in from the main entrance at the back. Luz is practically vibrating with nerves and excitement and the only reason she doesn’t run to the front to sweep her beautiful girls into excited, passionate kisses is solely due to her own mother’s iron grip on her arm as she walks her up. I actually don’t know if Alador has redeemed himself enough at this point for Amity to allow him to walk her up to the front, but I also think Edric would be too much of a mess to do so. I think a lifetime of keeping up a mask helps Alador maintain his composure long enough to get Amity up to the front and to take his seat before he lets the waterworks take over. I actually don’t know which of Willow’s dads would walk her up; we don’t know enough about either of them to make personality judegement calls. Whichever dad can hold it together for longer, probably.

Polyamory isn’t a new thing on the Boiling Isles; it may not be practiced as often among witches, but demons do it all the time, so the person officiating their wedding (it could be literally anyone, I have no idea. Maybe principal bump, just for funsies) knows exactly how this ceremony needs to go. They all planned beforehand exactly the order they’d kiss one another once they were proclaimed officially married: Luz would be too excited to wait and would kiss each of her girls first, Amity then Willow, and then Amity and Willow would share their own kiss once Luz had gotten that out of her system.

Honeymoon:

I don’t know enough about honeymoons to know if there’s a difference between a honeymoon and a normal vacation except Now You’re Married. Maybe they go on a grand expedition around the Boiling Isles? Maybe they honeymoon in the Human Realm? That’s exactly like the proposal situation; it could be literally anything. Far too many variables and ideas that could make it perfect for each of them. Hell, they could probably just say they’re going out and doing all sorts of stuff and actually just locking themselves in their house so they can just be together and relish in the relief of no longer needing to plan such a large and important event. They can just enjoy each other’s company as Wives now. I really don’t know.

Regardless of what they do, I think they’d be like any other person on their honeymoon: absolutely love struck and over the moon with how much they love each other. Sometimes they’ll catch one another staring and tease each other about it ( “awww you liiiikkkke meeee” “we literally just got married” “yeah I know but stiiiiiillllllllll”)

I actually don’t know what else you expect me to put here, so I guess I’ll just say they lived happily ever after, the end.

#prinxly inquiries #wam-hope #the owl house #willumity #luz noceda #willow park #amity blight #tw depression #tw mentions of suicide #only for a second tho the entire rest of this thing is so goddamn fluffy #this is another one of those hella long ones that took me all weekend to write lmao #y’all really know how to pull the super long headcanons outta me

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roman-writing · 4 years ago

Text

the spectres vain (2/2)

Fandom: The Haunting of Bly Manor

Pairing: Dani Clayton / Jamie / Viola Lloyd

Rating: M

Wordcount: 6,525

Summary: She had said before, ‘so many people mix up love and possession,’ and now years later she wondered if that was the reason why they had been given so much time. That maybe Viola thought this was love. That maybe she loved this. Loved her. Loved them.

Content advisory: spoilers, horror, and ghost smut

read it here on AO3 or read it below

“The night isn’t dark; the world is dark. Stay with me a little longer.”

-‘Departure’, Louise Gluck

"I really thought this would go away. But it just hasn't."

They were sitting in a cheap diner, their local favourite down the road. Jamie had already received her meal -- an omelette with a cup of coffee and a side of toast, all of which was going to be far too much for her to eat; she never would get used to the size of American meals -- but Dani had yet to receive her own. Jamie paused in the act of picking up her knife and fork. Dani's eyes were glued to her meal, like a starving man who had seen food for the first time in weeks.

"What would go away? Food?" Jamie asked. She slowly passed the knife and fork between her hands -- clink of chipped cutlery -- and began to eat.

"Yeah."

Dani tore her gaze away from Jamie's plate and instead focused on the salt and pepper shakers between them, bracketing the serviette dispenser like little guardsmen. She was sitting on her hands, as though that were the only thing keeping herself from snatching Jamie's food away for herself. She worried at her lower lip with her teeth.

"I mean, I've always liked food. But after -" She made a nodding motion with her head. "- anyway after, it was like I'd never tasted food before in my life. It was so strange. Everything tasted so sweet. I could hardly choke down a cup of apple juice. And a cheeseburger? I thought that I'd died the first time I bit into one. All that sauce."

Dani trailed off. She was frowning contemplatively at her scratched reflection in the chrome-plated dispenser.

Jamie shoved a mouthful of omelette into her mouth and spoke gracelessly around it. "Always thought American food was too sweet, myself. Maybe you got used to Owen's cooking over in England."

Dani gave her a look. "You know that's not why."

"Yeah, I know." Jamie finished chewing, already cutting up another piece and loading up the back of her fork with her knife. "I noticed the appetite change, of course."

"Mmm." Dani nodded. Her mouth was twisted to one side; she was chewing the inside of her cheek and sneaking glances at her wristwatch as though even the ten minute wait was too long for her to bear. "But it just -- it hasn't gone away. It's more bearable now. I still struggle with cake that's really sugary or has too much icing. But food is -- well, it's an experience. Every time."

Jamie made a noise in the back of her throat; her mouth was too full for even her to speak. She finished her bite, and then said, "Anything in particular you two have been craving?"

If anything, Dani seemed startled by the question. The thoughtful groove in her brow deepened, before she answered, "Tarte au citron. She used to love lemons. Anything sour. Not too sweet. Always a hint of bite."

Nodding slowly, Jamie said, "Yeah, all right. We can make do with that. And what about you? Do you like sour things?"

Dani's mouth opened to answer, but before she could say anything, the waitress came by and placed an enormous cheeseburger with all the trimmings in front of her -- bacon, extra cheese and gherkin, the whole lot. "Thank you so much."

The waitress had hardly taken two steps away before Dani descended upon her meal. The cheeseburger was in her hands and then in her mouth in a flash. She took a large bite, and juice dripped all down her fingers. As Dani chewed, she moaned softly, eyes shut in rapture. “God,” she mumbled. “That’s so good.”

Jamie lifted her eyebrows and coughed discreetly. “Blimey. Do you two need a room?”

Dani nodded and took another bite. Jamie laughed, and she could see the way Dani's mouth curled into a smile even as her cheeks bulged.

Later that week, Jamie was passing by a bakery on her way back to their florist's shop. She stopped and peered through the window. All of the baker's wares were on neat display, ranging from little fancies to proud cakes dusted with chocolate shavings.

And there, near the middle, a row of lemon tarts the size of her hand.

When she returned to the florist's shop, the bell attached to the door by a string announced her arrival, along with her accompanying bellow, "I'm back! I see you didn't burn the place down in my absence! Well done, love!"

It was a Saturday, and the sign turned to 'CLOSED' on the door bounced when she shut it. The sound of footsteps drummed down the stairs, and Dani's legs appeared as she descended the steps. "Oh, hey! How'd the bank go?"

"The usual." Jamie walked forward to the countertop with the cash register. "All their old farts with all their old money. And some money that isn't theirs either."

"Uh huh," Dani said. "And the loan?"

Jamie lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. "Sounded like they were impressed by the little talk you had with them last week about tenants and estate management.”

Dani’s face split into a wide smile. “Really? They’re going to give us the money to buy the shop instead of rent?”

“And the apartment, too,” Jamie said, and she couldn’t help it either. Her own grin broadened. “Anyway, I got you something."

She held out a plain brown wax-paper bag. Dani blinked, and took it.

"Oh, thanks, I was just thinking about -" Dani's voice slowed, then stopped. Her smile lessened slightly, when she opened the bag and saw what it contained. A perfect lemon tart with a dash of cream that had been only slightly smushed on Jamie's walk home. "Oh."

Without a word, Jamie pulled from her back pocket the plastic fork that had come with it. "Go on, then. Let's see how it compares to 16-whatever."

For a long moment Dani fiddled with the plastic fork. It were as though she were standing at the edge of a dock, readying herself for a plunge into icy waters. And then with a brave smile towards Jamie, she cut herself a piece and took a bite.

Jamie wondered what it must have been like. Dani's eyes were closed. She looked utterly transported.

"Good?"

Dani opened her eyes again and nodded. "So, so good."

"Yeah?" Jamie leaned her elbows upon the countertop, watching as Dani went in for another bite. "Better or worse than 16-who-even-cares?"

Dani hummed around the fork in her mouth. Pulling it free and chewing, she said, "Better. Way better."

"Why d'you think that is?"

"It's -" Dani went quiet for a moment as she continued to eat, mulling over every morsel. "It's smoother. Richer. Tarter. More depth of flavour."

"Is that the ingredients talking? Or the fact that you've been stuck in a lake without a body for five-hundred years?"

Dani went very still. After a pause she kept chewing. “A bit of both, I think.” She swallowed, then took a deep breath and looked Jamie dead in the eye. “It’s still me, you know. I’m still me.”

Jamie smiled at her. “I know, Poppins. I know.”

When Dani held out the next forkful to her, she let herself be fed. And indeed, she’d been right. Smooth. Rich. Tart. And a depth of flavour.

At some point -- she could not say exactly when -- Jamie began doing things explicitly thinking of not just what Dani might like, but what Viola might also like.

She read old books. She asked a friend of a friend who went to university to study textile history for any hints of seventeenth century culture. Anything at all so long as it was between the years of 1645 and 1680. (She knew the dates perfectly, but she wasn’t about to let Viola know that. Couldn’t have their evil aristocratic ghost getting all uppity on them, could they?)

She grew specialty plants. She bought specialty food. She gave her clothes and jewelry, little trinkets, only what she could afford. Dani loved them all.

And Viola -- well, Viola was a mystery.

"Did you know that our very own Viola may very well have met Oliver Cromwell?"

Beside her in bed, Dani shifted and the mattress springs creaked beneath her weight. "Are you doing research on my ghost?"

In answer Jamie pointed at the place in the book she was reading and said, "In the year 1658 the daughters of one Mister Willoughby, Viola and Perdita, visited Court, aged fifteen and ten respectively. There they paid their respects and stayed for a few months in a London residence, before returning to the family estate." Jamie set the book down on her legs. "Do you think she actually met him? No. They couldn't have. The Lloyds weren't that reputable, were they?"

"She did," Dani said in a hollow tone. She was staring into the middle distance again, her expression slack.

"Oh, yeah?" Jamie asked. "She want me to know that, does she?"

Still gazing off into space, Dani nodded.

Jamie gestured with the open book. "Noted." She tried to go back to reading, but her curiosity got the better of her. "Okay, what was he like? Good ol' Ironsides?"

"Cold." Dani's eyelids fluttered and she seemed to come to herself. She cleared her throat, but continued, "And he was so critical of her nice new clothes. But she had the last laugh in the end."

Jamie snickered. "Sounds about right."

“He died that same year. Right after they’d visited,” Dani said. “She thought his beheading later was very funny.”

Hearing that, Jamie’s eyes widened. "Holy shit. Wait. Was Viola a secret Catholic?"

Dani scowled darkly at her. The air of their bedroom seemed suddenly colder.

"Whoops. Personal question, then?" Jamie held her hands together in mock supplication and thickened her accent. "A thousand pardons, m'lud."

With a snort of laughter, Dani pushed Jamie's hands down, but paused to lean forward for a quick peck on the mouth.

Sometimes Jamie felt like she was stalking a dead woman. Constantly trying to figure out what Viola might like, what might entice her to stay. And then worrying that perhaps it meant Dani was losing a bit of herself everyday. Like a coin rubbed smooth over the years, until the minted face was indistinguishable. One replacing the other. Or perhaps more like losing the line that separated them. Until she could no longer tell where Dani ended and Viola began.

Yet in time Jamie learned she would do anything if it meant that Dani was here by her side. Every action. Every game pie. Every tight-armed hug. ‘Don’t go. Stay with me. Just for today. Just one more day.’

And every time, Dani caught her eye and smiled as though she had heard the unspoken words, as though they had rung about in the pull-down attic of their little apartment. And every time she would reach out to squeeze Jamie’s hand, and pull her into a reassuring kiss.

Americans, Jamie had learned since living here, were obsessed with Halloween. Personally, she didn’t see the appeal. Now, lighting up the effigy of a Catholic who had once attempted to blow up Parliament? That was more her cup of tea.

Still, when in Rome...And the few friends they had made along the way had invited her to a costume party in town. It would be churlish to decline. They needed more friends. Friends that weren’t linked to a shared trauma.

Besides, as it turned out her friend’s friend at university studying textile history was also an amateur seamstress, and had a few period-accurate pieces that fit without too much trouble. Just a bit nipped in at the waist and -- done. Jamie was set for a ball, or whatever the appropriate equivalent would’ve been called.

“Hey, Jamie, could you help me with this wig? It’s being a real pain in the -”

Dani emerged from their bathroom, half dressed in a Bride of Frankenstein white dress outfit, and froze. It was an hour or so before they were set to leave on the night, and Jamie was in their bedroom draped in a seventeenth century gown, seated on the mattress, a thorn-stripped rose in hand. Dani dropped the aforementioned wig to the ground and stared.

“Too much?” Jamie asked. She adjusted the puffy sleeves so that they sat lower on her arms, revealing more of her chest. “I don’t think it suits me, and I was going to go for a bloke’s outfit instead, but she insisted that -”

“No,” Dani breathed, shaking her head. “No, it’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

“Well, I knew that, obviously.” Jamie winked. Then she made a shooing gesture with the rose, rising from the bed and walking towards Dani. “Now, c’mon! Let’s get that zig-zag wig of yours on. We’re going to be late.”

Dani stepped to one side to block the exit. Her gaze was dark and fixed, unblinking, upon Jamie’s outfit. “I was wrong, actually. What I said just now.”

“What? About me being perfect?” Jamie joked.

“No, not that. It’s just -” Dani reached out with a tentative hand and her fingers were trembling. She thumbed an edge of the dress at Jamie’s sleeve, testing the rose-coloured silk there. “It’s the wrong colour. You should be in green. Laurel as a crown.”

“Thanks?” Jamie said uncertainly.

Dani stepped closer. With her application of make-up and her pale flowing dress, she seemed more like a ghost than ever. Her hands were on Jamie’s upper arms now, stroking the fabric, following the line of the stomacher’s seams until they rested at Jamie’s narrowed waist.

Dani swallowed, and her voice sounded strained when she asked, “Are you wearing a pair of bodies?”

Jamie huffed with nervous laughter. “Am I wearing a -? What?”

As if coming to herself, Dani blinked and shook her head quickly. “I mean - uh - stays. Uh - What’s the name now? - a corset. Are you wearing a corset?”

“Yeah. And all the petticoats and frills.” Jamie straightened theatrically and tried to stretch her shoulders. “Bloody uncomfortable, too. I tell you what.”

Any attempt to break Dani out of this spell with humour seemed futile, however. She was tracing the metallic gold thread of Jamie’s stomacher with greedy fingertips. “What exquisite passementerie.”

“Yeah,” Jamie said haltingly. She was being guided back towards the bed, their steps slow. “The girl I borrowed this from is into the real deal. Wanted to make it as authentic as possible. I’m guessing she passed with flying colours?”

Wordlessly, Dani nodded. Her tongue darted out to wet her lower lip, her mouth painted a bold and bloody red. Her hands curled into fists, bunching up the skirts at Jamie’s hips as though she wanted to tear the cloth from her, only for her touch to slacken, and her palms to smooth down that same fabric like a caress.

Dani continued walking them towards the bed. “I don’t know exactly what’s happening right now, but I really really want you.”

Whatever reaction Jamie had been expecting, it hadn’t been this. Dani hadn’t blinked for what seemed like an age, and she held herself rigidly, every movement twitchy, as though she couldn’t quite remember how to control her muscles properly.

“Can I -?” Dani started to ask, fingers already slipping towards the laces at Jamie’s front.

Jamie lifted the rose between them and used it to bop Dani gently on the forehead. “‘Course you can, Poppins. So long as it’s still you in there.”

Dani blinked furiously and her head jerked back. Then she laughed softly. “Yeah. I’m - I’m here, too.”

Jamie’s mouth curled in a smirk. “All right, then.” She tossed the rose onto the ground, and reached to the laces that held the gown in place. “Help me out of this thing.”

“No.” Dani grabbed her wrists and held them firmly in place. She shut her eyes for a quick moment, shaking her head back and forth. “Not yet.”

“I thought you said -?”

“I know. And I do. Just -- slowly.”

Jamie stared, searching Dani's face for some hint of her there, but her eyes were still tightly shut, and her fingers were pressed coldly around Jamie's wrists.

"All right," Jamie said. "What do you want me to do?"

Dani's eyes opened then, and her gaze was piercing as a shot in the night. She let go of Jamie, stroking her wrists in silent apology, then said, "Be still."

Jamie lowered her arms, then tried her best to not move at all. A long silent moment stretched between them like a bolt of cloth flaring across a table for measuring. The muscles of Dani's face leapt, then settled, and it were as though the nervous energy ran right out of her to pool at their feet. She straightened to impeccable posture, and her expression was nothing but hunger.

It came as a shock, when Dani first tugged at the strings at Jamie's chest. Clever fingers, accustomed to such garments, worked the laces loose, criss by cross. When the gown had slackened just enough that it began to part from the under layers, she stopped. She brought her hands around, and dipped her fingers along the gap created between silk and cotton, running a line between them all the way from one of Jamie's shoulders, across her chest, to her opposite arm.

When her fingertips trailed across Jamie's collarbone to rest against her sternum, it felt like there was another set dragging along after them. Twin touches mirroring every movement of the other, until suddenly they weren’t. Dani leaned forward, and though her hand remained at the hollow of Jamie’s throat, Jamie could feel an icy caress continue to graze her warm skin.

Then Dani was kissing her neck. Jamie tilted her head to one side, only for some other presence to nudge it back upright. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a second pair of lips against her throat. She swallowed, neck craned back, and teeth scraped against the sensitive skin there, harder than Dani would have ever bitten, hard enough to make her jolt. From the corner of her vision she swore she could almost see another figure shrouded in white, but when her eyes darted in that direction, there was nothing.

When Dani felt a hand reach around her throat, she stiffened. "No," she said. "Not around my neck."

Immediately Dani went very still against her, and the hand withdrew. "Sorry. Better?"

Jamie nodded mutely, but could not bring herself to relax. Not when those pairs of hands had moved to part the robe gown from her front. The ruffled bunch of rose-coloured silk dropped to the mattress just behind her in a rustle. Dani was kissing her mouth now, a long deep drawn out kiss, cupping Jamie's cheeks between both hands, but something was still expertly reaching beneath a layer and untying the ribbons that held the padded pillow around her waist under the over skirt, until that, too, was dropped to the floor.

That phantom touch roved, then began to trace the intricate patterns of the stomacher again. There was more strength behind the caress now. As though, the person responsible were gaining confidence, or perhaps becoming more grounded in reality. The warm lamplight on the bedside table behind them cast too many shadows, and over Dani's shoulder Jamie could clearly see the silhouette of three people instead of two.

Those hands pressed against the seams of the stomacher, and Jamie broke off the kiss to gasp, "Careful. There are pins holding that in place."

"I know," Dani murmured against the side of her mouth. The hands passed right over the pins, leaving them in place. "I don't want it off."

"And miss out on all the fun?"

There was a certain steely coldness about Dani's answering smile. "Who said anything about that? Now,” she pressed gently at Jamie’s sternum. “Lie down.”

Jamie dropped onto the mattress, which bounced slightly beneath her weight. She made to shuffle up towards the headboard, but stopped when Dani sank to her knees before her. And yet, there was a dip in the mattress on either side of her. The blankets bunched up at four points as though beneath another weight. Jamie held her breath and let herself lie completely flat with her legs hanging over the side of the bed. The air above her was thick and cold and almost solid. It felt like lying at the bottom of a lake and staring up at the watery surface overhead.

She could feel Dani pushing up the over skirt and petticoat and whatever other layers there were. Jamie had been told the names of each one at the time, but hadn't paid much attention then. Now, she wished she had. Now, Dani was running her hands along each one in turn, slowly sliding them up to Jamie's hips.

Something tugged at one of the black ribbon garters just above Jamie's knees, which kept those long white stockings in place. Then Dani was sliding the left stocking down her leg, pausing to press a kiss to each patch of bare exposed skin. She shivered. As Dani removed the first stocking and moved to the second, Jamie felt a kiss at her neck again. The suddenness of it made her twitch. She reached out, but her hands passed right through the air above her. A pair of hands gripped her wrists and pinned them down to the bed.

Jamie made a noise in the back of her throat. Dani paused, and the grip around Jamie's wrists slackened just fractionally until it became clear that she wasn't fighting back.

Once the final stocking was removed, Dani pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Jamie's inner thigh. Jamie squirmed. Though Dani’s head was only barely visible between her legs, Jamie could not escape the feeling of someone staring intently at her. Dani’s mouth worked its way up and up and -- Jamie hissed, shutting her eyes and clenching her teeth. While the rest of her was cold, Dani’s tongue was a length of heat, licking long warm stripes and small circles.

With a moan Jamie’s hands jerked, instinctively going to grab Dani’s head, but she was held back, tethered down by an invisible ghost that lingered over her like a dream. There came the sensation of something drawing closer, a draught of cold air that drifted across her face, and Jamie’s eyes flew open.

If she focused, she could almost see the monochromatic shape. Dark locks of hair dripped down past her head and puddled on the surrounding bedsheets. Viola was crouched over her in all her former glory. Sparkle of light glinting against the pearls at her throat. A rich cool and satisfied smile. Dark weathers for eyes. The cat that had caught the canary in its claws. She leaned down and kissed Jamie, and her mouth was full and soft, and thin and hard all at once, demanding, unrelenting.

Viola pulled away. She lifted one satin-gloved hand and stroked Jamie’s cheek. “Such a pretty thing.”

Her voice was a hoarse echo across space and time. Dani slipped two fingers into her, and Jamie had to bite back a whimper, her eyes squeezing shut.

“Look at me.”

With a hitched breath as Dani’s tongue worked against her, Jamie struggled to open her eyes, to keep her hips still.

“That’s it, darling,” Viola smiled, and her face began to melt, like a painting that dripped with wax. “Come for me.”

Jamie’s back arched, her head turning against the sheets. She came with a whine that escaped in spite of herself, and it seemed to go on for ages, until she trembled and jerked her hips away. Layers of cotton and silk stuck to her skin with a thin sheen of sweat. Hastily Dani clambered up to take Viola’s place, hands on Jamie’s wrists, crouched over her, her mouth a smear of bold red lipstick, staring intently down, as though trying to memorise every last etch of her face. She swayed closer for a moment to brush her lips against Jamie’s, just softly.

“You all right?” Dani asked, sounding breathless.

Jamie nodded. “Yeah. Good. Great, even.”

“Yeah?”

In answer, Jamie reached up and crushed their mouths together in a bruising kiss. Dani groaned, pressing down against her, then gasped her name.

Hands on her hips, Jamie urged her further up until Dani’s knees bracketed either side of her head. She pushed up the sheer white fabric of the costume around Dani’s thighs. Above her, Dani gripped the frame of their headboard, knuckles white, already panting.

Jamie shouldn’t have been so greedy. She should have taken her time. She should have made Dani writhe, holding her on that ledge for as long as she could until Dani finally broke. But Dani was so wet, her thighs were taught and trembling, and she was grinding down against Jamie’s mouth. Jamie could feel her chin and neck grow slick. She held onto the backs of Dani’s legs and urged her on, coaxing with every roll and swipe of her tongue until she came with a cry.

One of Dani’s hands was tangled in Jamie’s hair. The other was still gripping the headboard tight. She was resting her sweat-stippled forehead against her own arm. When Jamie scraped her teeth lightly against her damp inner thigh, Dani shuddered.

"Are you all right?"

“I need a moment,” Dani said, her chest heaving. “I want to go again, but - Just - Give me just a moment -”

Wiping at her face, Jamie helped Dani back down to lie beside her. “I’ve got you. Don’t worry.” She kissed her temple while Dani gasped for breath into her shoulder. “I’ve got you.”

She had said before, ‘so many people mix up love and possession,’ and now years later Jamie wondered if that was the reason why they had been given so much time. That maybe Viola thought this was love. That maybe she loved this. Loved her. Love them. Or at least the idea of them. In some twisted way. All that cold rage and loneliness clinging to whatever scraps it could find, winding around its prey like a snake slowly throttling the life out of its victim without even realising it.

But maybe Viola wasn't squeezing so hard after all. Maybe she couldn't. Maybe Dani hadn't died yet because Viola was trapped, because she could never again return to the lake at Bly. Maybe Viola wasn't possessing her at all. And if she wasn’t possessing her, then - well.

Even that was too good to be true. The best outcome by far given the circumstances. And really, deep down, Jamie knew that loving Danielle Clayton meant loving her enough to one day let her go.

They didn’t make it to the Halloween party. Eventually, Dani tired herself out, riding Jamie’s fingers for a third time before collapsing atop her and panting for breath as she seemed to come fully back to herself. Jamie was barely able to convince Dani to join her for a shower before she fell asleep, all a-tangle in Jamie’s arms.

The bedside lamp was still lit. Jamie carded her hands through Dani’s long damp and honeyed hair. From the light, the shadow of a woman standing at the foot of their bed was thrown in sharp relief against the opposite wall. Staring at the space where Viola stood, Jamie gently kissed the top of Dani’s head.

Not for the first time in her life she found herself hoping beyond hope that someone could be haunted forever.

One day she brought back a tin full of loose-leaf tea. It was intended for nobody but herself. A full and earthy black. Not the bog her father would've drunk before descending into the ground, but similar in colour to his lungs perhaps. Jamie pulled it out along with the rest of her shopping, and started to put everything away but the tin. And while she did so, she put on the kettle to boil.

The sound of the kettle whirring away on the stove drew Dani from another room, like a siren's song. She was dressed in an old pink shirt tucked into high-waisted, acid-washed jeans. Her hair was still wet from a recent shower. "Need some help?"

"Sure." Jamie handed over the last bag for unpacking. "Take care of that for me while I handle the kettle, will you?"

Without a word, Dani did as asked. She was the taller of the two, and didn't have to reach up onto her toes to put away things on the high shelves. And Jamie was too proud to admit she needed a stepping stool, herself. Why bother? That's what Dani was for. Among other things.

When Jamie opened the cupboard, she asked, "Don't suppose you want some as well? Might not be your cup of tea, so to speak."

"I'll have one. Thanks."

So, Jamie pulled out two mugs. The kettle hissed. She poured a bit of water into each cup to warm them, then spooned the appropriate amount of tea leaves into the pot. While waiting for the tea to steep, Jamie turned round and lifted herself onto the kitchen bench. There, she drummed her sock-clad heels against the cupboard and reached over to the jar that held an assortment of biscuits. Chocolate-drizzled digestives for herself, and ginger biscuits for Dani, who had the unfortunate American affection for cinnamon and ginger and cloves. Jamie couldn't stand ginger, herself. Tasted too medicinal.

Sticking a digestive biscuit into her mouth, Jamie wordlessly held out the jar. Dani was just finishing putting away the shopping bags, and wandered over. Her hand slipped into the glass opening and she fished out two ginger biscuits for herself. Jamie set the jar aside, and meanwhile Dani insinuated herself between Jamie's legs so that she stood snugly against her.

"Long day?" Dani asked.

"Mmm," Jamie mumbled around a mouthful of biscuit. She finished chewing. "Not too bad of a Sunday, to be honest. What about you?"

"I went for a walk in the park," Dani said, looking mischievous as she nibbled on the first biscuit.

"On a Sunday? The scandal," Jamie tsked, tapping her tongue against the backs of her teeth. "What would dear old Viola think about that?"

In reply, Dani arched her brows and smirked, "I think that was the appeal, actually. Plus, we're in the full swing of Fall now, and we won't have many sunny days soon. I wanted to take full advantage while I still had the chance."

"Buy anything while you were out?"

"A scarf for you," Dani answered. "And a pair of gloves for me."

She had a habit of buying articles of clothing out of the blue. Whenever the fancy seemed to strike her. Today was obviously one such a day.

"How very thoughtful."

"It's green. You look good in green," said Dani. "It brings out your eyes."

"I look good in anything," Jamie insisted. "And nothing."

Dani grinned. "That's true, too."

She stepped back and wandered over to the fridge for milk, when Jamie reached around to pour them each a cup of tea.

"Thanks, love," Jamie said, pouring them each a dollop of milk before handing the jug back to Dani, who put it away in the fridge once more.

Their fingers brushed when Jamie handed over the cup of tea. As ever these days, Dani's hands were cold. They eagerly wrapped themselves around the hot cup, and she pulled the tea close to her chest.

Jamie did the same. It was after all, as Dani had said, the throes of Fall; the weather was taking a turn to the icy. And that first sip of tea was pure heaven. It warmed her all the way down her throat and settled in her stomach. Jamie hummed at the sensation and closed her eyes. She could hear Dani do the same beside her.

"I wish I could take this moment," she heard Dani say in a soft murmur, "and press it into a big book for safekeeping. So, I could come back and look at it whenever I felt sad."

“Aye,” Jamie breathed. Then she opened her eyes, and said, “Though maybe only with another biscuit in hand.”

With a snort of laughter, Dani dragged the biscuit jar closer so they could each indulge again. Jamie took one. Again, Dani took two.

“There. Now, that -” Jamie gestured with her cup of tea, speaking around a full mouth, “- is a perfect moment.”

“I could not agree more.” Dani had already finished one biscuit and was busily dunking her second into her tea.

Jamie watched her finish the biscuit before nudging Dani softly with her elbow. “You’re normally more of a coffee drinker. I could’ve brewed a different brew, if you’d wanted.”

“Yeah. But - I dunno. Somehow,” Dani paused to take a sip. She smiled warmly around the brim of the cup. “This tastes like home.”

Polaroids were getting cheaper and more compact these days. She didn’t have to go cramming them into oversized pockets anymore. Jamie had thrown out countless photos over time, never quite satisfied with the outcomes but always searching for some way to keep a hold of her. The day she bought a new camera -- her old one had died the death of kings; a swimming accident, and cameras as it turned out did not swim very well -- she immediately wanted to try it upon returning home.

Dani had just gotten a new haircut. The barber had done something to her fringe to make it look like the sweep of a wing, and she was constantly brushing it out of her eyes. She did so when she looked up as Jamie entered the living room, greeting her with a curious smile.

Brown paper bag under one arm, Jamie took a moment to remove her jacket and sling it across the coat hanger, but she left the green scarf wound around her neck like a python. “I got a new toy,” she announced.

Dani tilted her head to one side. “I told you I’d buy you that nice pair of secateurs for Christmas.”

“And you still can.”

Immediately, Dani’s eyebrows rose and she seemed intrigued. “Then what kind of toy?”

Pretending to look scandalised, Jamie reached into the bag. “How naughty! Not that kind of toy.”

Dani’s cheeks tinged pink. “Oh,” she said. She sounded disappointed.

With a smirk, Jamie strode forward and pulled out the new camera. She chucked the now empty paper bag onto the kitchen countertop, and gestured for Dani to stand beside her. Shaking her head, Dani nonetheless complied.

Jamie grabbed a hold of Dani’s shoulders and kissed her on the cheek, before she lifted the camera up as high as her arm would allow. A press of her finger. A flash of light. A click and whir of cogs and internal mechanisms.

Dani didn’t flinch this time or duck her head. She returned the kiss, then wandered away, humming to herself, without waiting to see the film develop. Jamie watched her go with a warm grin and an appreciative glance. When she looked down at the photo it was to find herself beaming from the square strip of film, and beside her Dani smiling tentatively, grasping Jamie’s opposite shoulder. Both of them were clear and their characters easily distinguishable. She felt herself relax a little.

Then as the white veil continued to lift from the surface, she went very still. On each of their shoulders rested a pale hand, and in the space between them a shadow in the shape of a woman with hair as long and black as the night. The face was a mask worn of all features, but she swore she could see a pair of dark eyes watching her from the film, and a canny smile haunted the unmistakable likeness of the Lady Lloyd of Bly.

Wrenching her eyes up, Jamie stared after Dani, who had wandered into their kitchen and was humming over the kettle. Slowly the water began to build to a boil. The kettle began to hiss. Then to shrilly whine.

Dani removed the kettle from the heat and poured boiling water into the brown betty teapot. "How'd the picture turn out this time?"

Briefly, Jamie considered throwing this one away like all the others, but it were as though a hand was still squeezing her shoulder tight. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to be known and most of all obeyed. Clearing her throat, she took a few hesitant steps forward then held out the square strip of film.

Dani set the kettle back down, and took the picture. She turned it round for a better look. There followed a sharp inhalation, like tearing in one last breath before the plunge. Her eyes widened and then, a slow smile crossed her face. She gasped out an incredulous laugh.

"Y’know, I - I thought this was going to be terrible, but -" Dani stroked her fingers over the image. "It really isn't half bad. You look - I mean. We look -"

Suddenly she snatched her hand away from the picture, clenching her unruly fist and lowering it. Her breaths were shaky but when she glanced up, her eyes were bright. She held up the photo. "Can we keep this one?"

Jamie nodded and shrugged at the same time. “Sure.”

Relief suffused Dani’s face. She did not tuck the photo away in some little corner of the apartment, something to be passed by without a second glance. No. Instead, she turned and began pulling magnets from the fridge. She cleared their normally busy little refrigerator, pushing everything aside to make space. And right there at the very centre of the blank white canvas she pinned the photo into place with a single plain black magnet.

“There,” Dani breathed softly. Her trembling fingertips lingered against the white-edged film. “That looks right. That - It feels just right. Right there.”

The hand at Jamie’s shoulder withdrew, but then there was the feeling of something drifting from the top of her head to the nape of her neck. As though someone were trying to tame the wild curls there with a gentle, approving touch.

“Dani,” Jamie croaked, her voice cracking.

“Hmm?” Dani turned around.

Striding forward, Jamie stopped only when she was close enough that she could peer deeply into Dani’s eyes. They were as they always had been. Variegated as an infected holly.

“Are you -?” Jamie had to swallow down the burr in her throat. “Are you feeling yourself?”

Dani’s answering smile was puzzled. “Yeah,” she said, her words slow and thoughtful, as though considering something inward very closely. “Yeah, I am.”

And she reached up to card her fingers through Jamie’s untamed hair. “You know, it’s strange, really.” Dani’s hand followed the same path as the one had before, coming to rest at the nape of Jamie’s neck, a cool solid comforting weight. She stroked her thumb, and the motion was repeated by one that was colder, like an echo, before the two hands came together at last. “Somehow, I feel more myself than ever.”

#thobm #the haunting of bly manor #dani/jamie #dani/jamie/viola #dani clayton #viola lloyd #roman writes #ANYWAY here's the ghost sex don't @me

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siriusmuch · 5 years ago

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misconceptions | james potter

pairing: james potter x reader

warnings: a little bit of angst and an insecure reader. also a few curses, but that’s the norm for me. also, i didn’t proofread. oops.

word count: 2,080 words

summary: requested by anon — james has been telling the marauders all about just how amazing you are. one day, you overhear and get the wrong message from the conversation.

There was something about James Potter that always drew you close to him. Just being in his general vicinity always made you happy. Everything about him radiated so much warmth and love, and even though he used to be a bully and nothing less than a toerag, you’ve seen for yourself over the years that he’d matured into a fine man.

For years, James had pined over Lily Evans.

It started when Lily herself had slapped him silly after he pranked Snape. You dealt with his constant whining over the redhead and even took it upon yourself to help him with his unrequited crush. But now, years later, his unsuccessful attempts at trying to woo Lily had finally ceased.

You thought things would’ve been different. You had been foolish to believe that maybe, just maybe, now you might have a chance. What was it about you that didn’t attract him? Were you not smart enough? Pretty enough? Or maybe James just saw you too much like a sister to even consider dating you.

And now, here you were, sitting in your current predicament. You were hiding behind one of the bookshelves in the library, overhearing James, Remus, Sirius, and Peter’s current conversation. You didn’t mean to intrude on their talk. Granted, they usually included you in them — Sirius, Remus, and Peter practically told you all the time about how you were like their sister, but this conversation was something you didn’t know was happening.

And while you were looking for a book you needed for your Herbology essay, they just happened to come in and take a seat by that table.

“She’s just so great, Pads. What am I even going to do with myself? I can’t stand being around her and not kissing her senseless every second we’re together,” James whispered, groaning and putting his head down onto his homework.

You felt your heart drop, and your concentration wavered. You definitely didn’t want to listen to this, not when James was gushing about some girl that wasn’t you. But, you also knew that if you moved now, they might spot you and cease the conversation.

“Dear Merlin, this is like Evans all over again,” Remus complained, but the quill scratching on parchment never stopped, “You need to get a hold of yourself. You’re going to scare the poor bird off.”

“This is worse than Lily. What am I going to do with myself? What if I ruin my friendship with her by being too forward?” James picked up his head, and through the corner of your eye, you could see just how adorable his hair looked. “Actually, nevermind. I can’t even be forward with her, every time I see her my mind just freezes up and I end up making a fool of myself.”

“The difference now is that she actually likes you back. Everyone can see it, except for you, Prongs. Don’t let that get to your ego though,” Sirius said.

You felt your heart shatter a bit more. Slowly and quietly, you started moving away from where you were standing. Heading towards the back corner of the library, you gathered your stuff and tried taking the long way out, avoiding any of the bookcases near where the Marauders were sitting. Silently, you slipped out, relieved that none of them had spotted you.

About four days had gone by since the day you accidentally overheard James’ confession of loving some mysterious girl who liked him back, and you had been avoiding the Marauders since then.

It wasn’t easy. Luckily for you, you’d been hanging around them for years, and you committed to knowing their schedules by heart. You also knew that they had their Marauders Map and the invisibility cloak, so you did the best you could to avoid going anywhere that wasn’t your dorm and classes. You skipped going to meals. Instead, that same night, you had asked the house elves to deliver you food during meals. They were reluctant, but you had always treated them well and hung around the kitchens pretty often.

You even avoided going to the library, except for the one time you went to check out the book you needed for your Herbology essay. You didn’t stumble into any of the Marauders and you thanked Merlin that things were working in your favor.

You could easily tell that the Marauders had started getting antsy. You sat away from them, ignored any of their attempts at trying to talk to you during class, and you even gave the cold shoulder to Lily when she tried asking you about them.

It was childish and immature of you, but you didn’t know what would happen if you finally talked to James. You felt sick even thinking about it.

Now, it was the first class of the fifth day since you last talked to them. Everything was quiet and boring, and you didn’t know if you could hold out any longer. You missed talking to James, missed being around the Marauders and helping them with their pranks, and you knew that if this went on any longer, you could potentially lose them as friends.

“Alright, everyone, we’re going to pair you up today. In groups of two, you’ll be working together to brew the Draught of Peace. As shown in your textbooks, the potion relieves anxiety and...” Professor Slughorn drawled on as you nervously bounced your leg up and down. Pairs meant you could potentially end up with one of the Marauders, and Merlin knows how terrible that’d end up being.

You didn’t want to tell them the reason why you’d been ignoring them.

As Professor Slughorn listed off the pairs, you crossed your fingers under the desk in hopes that you wouldn’t have to face them. “Potter and (Y/L/N), you’re going to be working together. I except you two to have a good potion, both of you happen to excel in potions.” You tensed up, cursing under your breath for your horrid luck. As everyone started gathering up their stuff to head over to your partners, you took a shaky breath and headed over to James.

“I know the little game you’ve been playing, (Y/N). You can’t ignore me now that we’re in a group,” James smiled triumphantly, and all you wanted to do was kiss that grin off his lips.

“Go get the ingredients, we can’t afford to get distracted. I’ll start crushing the ingredients we have here into powder.”

James rolled his eyes, but the look on his face told you that he wasn’t done with the conversation. You just hoped that you could hold out for the rest of your classes without having to tell him the reason behind your actions.

By the time the two of you were more than halfway through the potion, you became more at ease. The tension was still heavy between you two, but you were able to continue joking with him. As a bonus, nothing with the potion had gone wrong yet, and you were stirring the potion, waiting for it to turn red.

“So... are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?”

For a second, you stopped stirring, but you quickly recomposed yourself. You had avoided making direct eye contact with James, no matter how much you wanted to. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“I know you do, (N/N). You’ve been avoiding me for the past five days, and I don’t even know what I did. If you’re mad, at least tell me so I could make it right.”

Your heart swelled, and you could feel your heartbeat start picking up. It wasn’t fair how good he made you feel all the damn time. You felt like you were going to burst any second. “I’m not mad at you,” you stopped stirring as the brew turned red, watching it simmer, “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just... dealing with stuff.”

“Aren’t we friends, though? You know I could help you with anything. If anyone is being mean to you, I would beat them up for you. You know I’d do anything for you.”

You looked up, and for a moment, your eyes made contact with James’. You were speechless, and the familiar heat of your growing blush was starting to crawl up your face. How was it that this boy was willing to do so much for you, no matter what you possibly did? How was it that he’s so perfect?

“T... That’s the problem, though. You can’t just,” you watched his eyes flicker with hurt, and you continued, “You can’t just say things so sweet and loving, without expecting me to catch feelings for you. You can’t expect to do all these nice things for me yet pine for another girl who likes you back.”

You darted your eyes away, feeling your eyes starting to well up with tears. You quickly wiped at them, adding powdered moonstone to the now purple potion. Your feelings were out in the open now but at the cost of your friendship.

“And I know you don’t feel the same way, so don’t pity me or anything, alright James? I didn’t mean to overhear your conversation about mystery girl in the library. But I also can’t be around you when I know that these feelings will kill me from the inside out. I have to get over you first.”

“NO!” You jumped, startled by James’ sudden shout. Luckily, none of the powdered moonstone spilled into the potion, and you placed all of it down in case of accidents.

Before you could ask James what he meant, Professor Slughorn was standing in front of you.

“No disturbances in my class, Potter. Your potion is coming along fairly well, though. I’m impressed,” Professor Slughorn nodded in approval at the both of you as you flushed happily from the compliment. You heard James give a small apology, and as Slughorn walked away, James took a hold of your hands.

“No, don’t move on. Please,” James begged, “I was talking about you, you daft idiot. It’s always been you, (Y/N).” You lifted your head up, mouth open slightly in shock, but James wasn’t done speaking.

“You’ve been there for me through everything. You’ve supported me through everything. You’re intelligent, charming, and my best friend. I was an idiot for not realizing my feelings for you sooner, but it’s always been you. I love the way you bounce your leg when you’re nervous, the way you have my schedule memorized, even if it is to avoid me. I love when you dance to Queen music or wear my clothes. I love the way you’re kind to everyone, even to people who don’t deserve it. I love you. Not some other bird in the school, you. It’s always been you.”

You were at a loss of words, and you could hear the slight cheers in the background of the class. Your brewing potion was promptly forgotten and all of your thoughts were consumed by him. Him, him, James. Without any hesitation, James pulled you into him and kissed you.

The kiss was everything you imagined — it was like a fire burning you, it was like the overwhelming feeling of winning the Quidditch cup, it was like passion and love and everything in between. And once both of you finally stopped kissing, you looked into his eyes and they told you everything.

The pain of you ignoring him for the past five days, the love he held for you, and the joy that he felt from finally being able to call you his girl. And in your eyes, you knew he could see the relief you felt that it was you all along, the pain you’ve gone through while hearing him talk endlessly about other birds and the ecstasy that one kiss had brought you.

You might have had a misconception about just who he was talking about, but there weren’t any there. There was only love between you, and you knew that this was good. That this would last. That the two of you guys could take on the world.

“POTTER, (Y/L/N)! YOU’VE BEEN SNOGGING EACH OTHER WHILE YOUR POTION WAS BURNING. A ZERO FOR TODAY AND MINUS 20 POINTS FROM YOUR HOUSES.”

You looked at Professor Slughorn before bursting into laughter. Maybe the two of you would take on the world someday, but for today, you guys definitely didn’t take on your Potions class.

#journal of joyivos #james potter x reader #james potter #harry potter #harry potter x reader #marauders era #marauders #marauders x reader #marauders era x reader #professor slughorn #lily evans #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew

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cas-lost-grace · 5 years ago

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Prompt: I have been working three jobs to afford this ring and yeah I know it put a strain on our relationship that I wasn’t around much but, um, surprise, do you want to get married? What? NO? You’re dumping me? But…but…fuck everything - hey, random person over there, you want to get married? Yes? Really? Okay, let’s do this, I’m ready to drive to Vegas right now if you are.

Dean’s heart is in overdrive and his lungs are burning. He hates running. Sammy might actually be right about Dean needing to cut back on the burgers.

Dean takes a few deep breaths, swipes the sweat off his forehead and taps his pocket to make sure the little box is still there before he enters the restaurant.

"Hi, um, I have a... look there she is," he tells the hostess, pointing at Cassie who’s just getting up from her table. He weaves his way between the tables, apologizing to everyone he accidentally knocks into. Why are fancy places like this always so cramped? People spend so much money here, don’t they deserve some personal space?

"Hey, honey! I’m so sorry I’m late," he blurts out, grabs Cassie’s shoulders and presses a kiss to her cheek.

"Twenty minutes, Dean. I told you this was important and you are twenty minutes late."

"Yeah, I know, but I-" he takes a deep breath to calm himself, "I also have something important to tell you. Let’s just sit and have a nice dinner first. Please, Cassie, I’m sorry."

She heaves a heavy sigh but sits down.

Dean orders wine and watches as Cassie downs the first glass in one go. She’s really upset, but he hopes she’ll forgive him once she learns the reason for his delay.

"So, how’s the article about foster care going?" he asks. She loves talking about her job, so it will surely improve her mood.

If looks could kill, he would fall dead immediately. "That article was published a week ago," she says through clenched teeth.

"Oh. I... I’m sorry, Cassie. You know I’ve been working a lot lately-"

"Yes, I know," she cuts him off bitterly.

The waiter saves Dean by bringing the starters and rambling on about the ingredients.

The portions are ridiculously small for how much they cost, but the food is delicious and the wine is strong. By the time they reach dessert, Cassie has melted a little bit.

"I think we should get to the serious part," Cassie says, eyes fixed on her empty plate, she’s spreading the remnants of chocolate creme with a fork.

"Yeah, we should," Dean says. His heart is picking up pace again. "Please, let me start, I’ve been preparing for this for a long time."

She lifts her eyes and frowns suspiciously, but she nods.

"Please, close your eyes, babe."

She hesitates but obeys. Dean’s hands are shaking as he reaches for the box in his pocket.

"You can look," he says softly when he’s kneeling in front of her, holding the open box with both his hands like he saw it in movies so many times. He can feel many pairs of eyes on him, but he doesn’t care. All that matters is Cassie and her expression when she sees the ring.

Her eyes widen, her lips part, all color drains from her face.

"Dean," she breathes out.

"Cassie, will you marry me?"

She stares at him for a moment, it looks like she’s not breathing. Then she looks around at all the people awaiting her answer so they can clap and cheer. Her cheeks turn red.

"Dean, please, close the box and get back to your seat."

Dean knows that tone. She uses it with hysterical people that demand she writes about their problems or takes their side in an article.

He frowns.

"Do you want to marry me?" he asks again feeling a lump forming in his throat.

"Babe, let’s talk first. Please, don’t make a scene."

"Don’t make a scene? That’s what you care about?" Dean raises his voice as a wave of anger surges through him. "This was all about making a scene because I know you like big gestures!"

She huffs out an exasperated sound. "That’s not even... fuck, Dean, sit down and listen to me for one damn minute!"

She’s actually being pretty scary, so Dean grumpily obeys. He sees the other guests averting their eyes and pretending nothing happened.

"I’m listening," he growls.

Cassie takes a deep breath. "Dean, I’m really sorry I ruined this moment for you, but if I knew-" she shakes her head, "look, it really surprised me. We were barely spending any time together lately."

"Yeah, because I was saving up for this crazy expensive ring!"

Her face actually contorts with pity and Dean regrets yelling.

"Babe, I know it’s been hard for these past weeks, but I really did it for you."

"I would have appreciated it much more if you were with me."

"I’m sorry, babe." He reaches over the table to hold her hand but she withdraws it.

"Yeah, me too, Dean. I’m sorry, I-" another steadying breath, "I’m not going to marry you. I actually planned to break up with you tonight."

"What?" There’s something wrong with the world because Dean suddenly feels like he’s spinning and somebody has sucked the air out of the room. Maybe it’s just a nightmare. He’s been so nervous about the proposal that it would make sense if he dreamed of something as horrible as this. There’s no chance this could be true. Cassie would never...

"Dean?" she snaps her fingers in front of his face. "Dean, are you okay?"

Dean blinks at her and shakes his head slowly.

"No, I’m not fucking okay. I proposed to you and you are ditching me instead. How could I possibly be okay?"

"Dean, I’m sorry, but I’m sure you’ll move on soon."

"Is there anybody else?" Dean asks with a spark of hope. If it’s about another man, he can just beat him and it will be solved.

"No," Cassie says, biting her lip. "It’s about you."

"I told you I wasn’t present because I was busy working. That’s over now. I’ll be with you. I swear I will learn all your articles by heart."

She shakes her head. "No, Dean, that won’t work. You see, the worst part about you not being there with me was that I realized I don’t really need you."

That hurts.

"I know it’s harsh. But let’s be realistic. This relationship didn’t have a future."

"Well, I thought different," Dean says through his teeth and clenches the ring box in his hand.

Cassie tilts her head and looks at him the way one looks at an injured animal.

"Did you, really? Be honest with yourself, Dean. Did you actually wanted to marry me because you loved me that much or because you know your dad wanted you to find a nice girl and settle down with her?"

Dean gapes at her, speechless.

She smiles bitterly. "You see? That’s what I thought."

"That’s not-"

She doesn’t let him finish, he wouldn´t know what to say anyway.

"I’m done, Dean. I already packed my stuff so if you give me a little headstart, I’ll be gone when you arrive at the apartment.”

______________________

"I’m done with women!" Dean tells the bartender. His words slur together, thanks to all the whiskey he has drunk. "You can never tell where you stand with a woman. One day you think you’re the love of her life and the next day you learn you’re nothing to her. Nothing!" He swings his hand angrily in front of him and knocks over his glass. Fortunately, it’s empty.

The bartender grabs it but doesn’t refill it. Dean’s too submerged in his speech to notice.

"That’s why I’m here," he gestures wildly to imply the half-empty gay bar. "I’m gonna pick myself a man," he announces with a drunken grin. "I like men, you know? Always have. I somehow always pictured myself ending up with a girl, but that’s out of the question now." The bartender hums and pushes a glass of water in front of him. Dean takes a sip and makes a face. "This is shit," he mumbles before looking around.

There’s a man sitting at the far end of the bar. He has thick dark hair and a nice profile. He looks like he didn’t have a great day either.

"Hey, you!" Dean calls and points at him. "You, trenchcoat! I’m talking to you."

The man finally looks at him, gives him a once-over before his full lips curl up into an amused smile.

"Come here. I’m buying you a drink. Fuck, I’m buying you a whole bottle. I already spend a fortune for this stupid ring, so what does one bottle of fine whiskey means, right?"

The man moves to sit next to him and orders himself a glass.

"I’m sorry, you got rejected," he says and damn, his voice does strange things to Dean’s insides.

"Nah, that’s alright. Serves me right for being stupid."

"I don’t think you’re stupid." He says it like he means it and looks Dean deep in the eyes. The color of the guy’s eyes steals Dean’s breath.

"What’s your name?" he asks.

"Castiel."

Dean bursts into laughter. The guy looks at him like he’s some peculiar new species.

"Cas," he says, "that’s perfect. Yeah, that’s perfect. Cas, may I see your left hand?"

The guy raises his hand and Dean grabs it. Big palm, but slender fingers, yeah, this could work.

Dean opens the box with his free hand and pulls out the ring. He looks at the inscription of little letters D+C and chuckles again. He planned to have the ring fitted after giving it to Cassie, so it’s quite big now.

He still has to push a little to slip it on Castiel’s finger, but he manages.

"What-what are you doing?" the guy asks softly, staring at his own hand.

"Do you want to get married, Cas?"

Blue eyes meet his, stealing his breath away just like the first time. "I don’t even know your name."

"I’m Dean. 33. Mechanic. No relatives but a younger brother who lives in California. I’m a catch. We can drive to Vegas right now!" he says, a little too excited.

Castiel takes a moment to answer.

"Alright, Dean, let’s drive to Vegas."

"Awesome!" Dean jumps off the barstool and throws some money on the countertop. "I need to pee first, meet me at the door." He leaves as Cas talks with the bartender who’s watching Dean’s departure with concern.

________

"I should drive," Cas says when they reach Dean’s car.

"No, no, no. No way. You see this beauty? She’s the best thing I have. I don’t let anybody drive her."

"I’m going to be your husband. I think you should let me drive your car."

It’s a valid argument, but Dean doesn’t like it. He folds his arms across his chest and pouts.

"Besides you’re too drunk to drive, Dean."

Dean sighs and gives Cas the keys. He slumps grumpily in the passenger seat.

Castiel looks hot while driving, though, so Dean takes that as a consolation prize.

"Have you ever been to Vegas?" he asks because he wants to hear that amazing voice again.

"Yes, once, on a business trip. But I didn’t really have the opportunity to enjoy what the city can offer."

"Oh, we will enjoy everything, Cas. What do you think about getting wed by Elvis?"

"I’m not a huge fan of Elvis."

"Oh come on! How can you not like Elvis? Wise men say only fools rush in. But I can't help falling in love with you... Come on, Cas!"

Castiel laughs. The sound is deep and rich. Dean likes it very much.

"Oh, wait, where are you driving to?" Dean asks suddenly aware of his surroundings.

"To my place," Castiel says without hesitation, "I need to change, I’m not getting married in my work clothes."

Dean looks at him. A boring trenchcoat and a crumpled suit.

"Yeah, sure, it should be the best day of your life. If you wanna change, you should change!"

Cas nods with a soft smile playing on his lips. They are full and pink and a little chapped.

__________

Castiel has a nice little house in the suburbs.

"Dean, follow me, please," he says in the hall and leads Dean through the house. They stop in the bedroom. It’s warm-colored and cozy.

"What are you doing?" Dean asks when Castiel turns to him and pushes his jacket off his shoulders. "Oh, premarital sex, yeah, I’m up for that." Dean hiccups as he shrugs his sleeves off his hands and lets the jacket fall on the floor. Castiel pushes him towards the bed and Dean topples inelegantly on top of the covers. "Uh. Yeah, it would be stupid to marry someone if you don’t know whether you are-" he unbuttons his pants and pushes them down his hips, "-compatible in bed, right? Oh god, these sheets are so soft," he mumbles as Castiel takes his shoes off and gets rid of the pants. Dean pushes himself up on the bed and buries his face in a fluffy pillow.

"I hope you’re a top-" he mutters into the pillow. There’s a blanket being thrown over him but he barely notices it. His body suddenly feels very heavy. "I mean, I could fuck you but I-" he yaws "-I really like it up my ass."

It’s silent and dark and Dean lets it overcome him.

________

Waking up is disorienting. He’s in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar bedroom. His head is killing him. Grunting, he kicks the blanket off and sees he’s wearing his shirt and boxers. At least he hasn’t done anything he would have to regret. He treads lightly as he opens the bedroom door and walks into the living room. There’s a lump on the couch. A mop of dark hair peeking from under a blanket.

"Oh shit," Dean breathes as the events of last night start coming back to him in flashes. He has to brace himself against the wall because his knees feel weak.

Castiel stirs and opens his blue eyes. "Hello, Dean," he says, voice huskier than Dean remembers.

"Hi, Cas."

Castiel’s smile is small but sweet. "I didn’t expect you to remember my name. How are you feeling?" He sits up and folds the blanket neatly. He looks even better in a gray t-shirt and black boxer briefs than he did in his coat.

"Um. My head feels like it’s going to explode every minute," Dean admits. He´s trying not to stare at Cas´ muscular thighs while the man walks towards him.

"Let’s get you some water and Advil and I’ll make some breakfast."

"Wait," Dean stops him by grabbing his shoulder. The muscles under his palm feel incredibly firm. "I want to thank you. You saved me from doing something very stupid."

"You had a rough day. I was worried somebody would take advantage of you."

When he imagines what could have happened to him if he addressed somebody else than Castiel, it gives him goosebumps.

"Thank you."

"It’s nothing," Cas says and pats Dean’s hand that is still resting on his shoulder. The wedding ring on his finger glistens in the morning sun.

"What do you say to pancakes and bacon?"

Dean grins. "I say hell yeah."

_________

They have a nice breakfast. Castiel is a decent cook and a very nice company. Dean learns the basics about him. What does he do for a living, where he grew up and how he spends his free time.

"Thank you once again, Cas," Dean says in the doorway when it’s time for him to leave.

"Goodbye, Dean. I hope that... that things get better for you soon."

"Yeah," Dean sighs. It hurts every time his mind as much as brushes the thought of Cassie. He’s not looking forward to seeing his empty apartment. "Goodbye."

"Oh wait!" Cas stops him. Dean almost forgot about the ring still sitting snuggly on Cas’ finger. Castiel tugs at it but it won’t move past his knuckle.

"Fuck, I’m sorry, I’ll get some soap and-"

Dean wraps his hand around Castiel’s. Cas looks at him with surprise in his beautiful eyes.

"You know what? I owe you a meal at least. Let’s meet tonight. I’ll pick you up at six. You can give me the ring then."

Cas nods hesitantly. "Alright. At six."

_______

When Dean picks him up, Castiel is still wearing the ring. He doesn’t give it back that night, too busy kissing Dean. He doesn’t give it back on their second date either because things get heated fast. He doesn´t give it back the morning after, nor the next morning or any other morning they wake up in the same bed.

________

Castiel blinks sleepily at Dean as Dean plays with his hand. "It’s been a year," Dean says, running the pad of his thumb over the stone of the ring. A year since they met. Six months since Dean moved in with Cas.

"Hmm." Cas turns to his side and nuzzles at Dean’s neck. "Maybe we should get married. It’s too late to give it back now."

With his heart beating hard, Dean wraps his arms around his boyfriend and squeezes him tight. "Yeah, we should."

"But not in Vegas. I want a proper wedding."

Dean laughs. "Of course. I can’t wait for you to turn into a bridezilla."

Cas pinches his side which makes Dean squeal and laugh. Castiel waits patiently for him to calm down before he kisses him breathless.

#destiel #destiel ficlet #destiel au #spncreatorsdaily #drunk!dean #emotional hurt/comfort #mine

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kthstrawberryshortcake · 5 years ago

Text

Hanging by a Thread

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: angst with a happy ending

warnings: language, sexual themes (it’s pretty mild tbh)

word count: 2,540

This came basically out of nowhere. My brain just spit it out one day. I hope you guys enjoy it!

Also very minimal editing was done with this, be warned.

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You couldn’t keep going on like this. It had been three weeks since you’d heard anything from Yoongi and thus far you’d been continuing on like nothing was wrong, like not hearing from your boyfriend for weeks at a time was normal. You knew he got busy, and him disappearing into his studio for days wasn’t unusual, but three weeks was a long time. Three weeks in which you’d tried to give him space, but your calls and texts had gone unanswered. You’d even tried to take food to the studio, both to make sure he ate and to get a chance to see him, but after waiting for an hour as you called and texted to ask him to open the door, you had given up. You’d left the food outside the studio and texted him to let him know it was there.

You knew nothing had bad happened to him or anything like that. Your best friend Taehyung had told you as much. He was the one who had introduced you to Yoongi in the first place over a year ago. There were people who would tell you that you should’ve expected this. You had entered the relationship fully aware that he wouldn’t be the overly affectionate, clingy boyfriend, and that was more than okay with you. This had gone far beyond that point, though. It wasn’t a lack of publicly displayed affection, or even a lack of affection, but rather the complete and total lack of attention, a failure to even give you signs of life. Plus there was the one conversation you’d had right before he went AWOL, one that had seemed to go well at the time, that you wondered if it had anything to do with Yoongi’s sort of disappearance.

At your wit’s end, you decided the only way to keep from going entirely insane was to distract yourself with the company of friends. That’s how you ended up on the couch at the BTS dorms, wrapped up in your best friend’s arms. Your head was leaned against Taehyung’s shoulder as tears rolled down your cheeks. Jimin and Jungkook were also in the room, immersed in playing video games. “You want me to punch him for you? Because I don’t care if he’s my hyung, he can’t treat you this way. I didn’t introduce you just for him to be a jerk.” Taehyung murmured to you. You sniffled a little. “It’s not worth it Tae. I just wish I could bring myself to give up on him, maybe I wouldn’t hurt so much.” You sighed.

Right at that moment, you heard the door open and slam shut, then footsteps. “WHAT THE FUCK?!” Yoongi roared, standing behind the couch where you and Taehyung sat. He looked positively livid. “So what, are you cheating on me now? With him? Or what explanation do you have for being practically on top of him?” He hissed, his words dripping with venom. You stood up quickly, glaring at him. “Oh, you don’t get to be jealous right now. After the stunt you’ve pulled the last few weeks? Excuse me if I need my best friend to comfort me when you’ve been treating me like shit.” You yelled back.

All eyes were on the two of you. Yoongi’s expression softened ever so slightly. “I’ve been focused. I’ve been working.” He said in an attempt to defend himself. You shook your head. “Okay, fine, you’ve been working, great. Whatever. I’ve tried not to bother you. I always try not to bother you. But am I supposed to assume that your phone and laptop are broken and you’ve had no internet or cell reception? Because that’s the only actual excuse for this radio silence you’ve been giving me.” You retorted, not about to back down now. He looked slightly less certain now. You were trying not to start crying again, angry and heartbroken all at once. “Is this because I won’t fuck you?” You demanded quietly but harshly. You clenched your teeth, giving him a hard stare. Yoongi looked shocked, then extremely sad. “Do you honestly think I care that much about that?” He asked in almost a whisper. Your mind flashed back to three weeks ago, just before Yoongi fell off the face of the earth. It had started innocently enough, the two of you sitting on his bed and talking. Then the affection he only ever showed in private pulled you in: a small peck, an arm around you, a warm smile. You're head over heels for this man. Next thing you know you’re straddling him, hands on his shoulders as he trails kisses down your neck. You hear a soft whispered “I love you” and you feel as if your heart will burst. You cup his face in your hands and pull him up to you, crashing your lips into his. His hands are on your hips and things continue to get more heated. Somewhere in the fog of being entirely drunk on your love for each other both your shirts find their way off of you. Your kisses grow passionate and messy. Then you feel one of his hands start to unbutton your jeans and you freeze. You pull away and look at him, your nervousness and uncertainty clear on your face. “I’m not ready. I love you more than you know but I’m just not ready for this, I’m sorry…” He can tell you expect him to react negatively so he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “That’s okay, baby. We don’t need to rush” He replies reassuringly, and you visibly relax. You’re so relieved. “Want to just cuddle?” He suggests gently, and you nod. The two of you reposition yourselves so you’re snuggled up next to him as he lays on his back, your head resting on his chest. Moments like this make you feel so loved. They remind you how lucky you are to have Min Yoongi. You had felt totally reassured about the matter after your conversation, but now that he’d basically ghosted you for the three weeks following it, you weren’t so sure. You took a deep breath. “I didn’t think you cared about it, no. But what am I supposed to think? Almost immediately after we talk about it you disappear, zero contact?” You said in frustration. “Do you even want to be in a relationship, Yoongi? Do you just see it as a distraction you can’t afford?” You asked, fearing his answer but truly just needing honesty at this point. “No, of course that’s not what I think. I love you, I don’t want to lose you. And please for the love of god don’t think that me being distant and distracted has anything to do with sex, because I don’t really care about that. I just care about you.” He replied earnestly.

You were so conflicted. Could you trust his words when his actions had so strongly suggested otherwise? It wasn’t until this moment that you realized the entire maknae line was witnessing your very emotional conversation. You focused on breathing evenly and slowly, trying to calm down. “I need a little time to process. I can’t continue talking about this right now. I’m too upset.” You admitted quietly, glancing up at Yoongi before looking at the floor. You covered your face with your hands, shaking your head. Yoongi respected your request for space and went to his room.

Taehyung then put a comforting hand on your shoulder before quietly suggesting “let’s get a snack.” You nodded, walking to the kitchen with Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook right behind you. Jin, who was leaning against the kitchen counter looking at his phone, looked up at the four of you as you entered. He saw the distraught look on your face and the boys’ grim expressions. Jin frowned in concern. “What’s wrong?” He asked, and the four of you looked at each other in an effort to figure out who would tell him and how. Taehyung, who was probably the angriest at the moment, decided to answer. “Y/N’s fantastic boyfriend decided to ghost her for three weeks, and, oh yeah, he also timed it so she thought it was because she wouldn’t have sex with him.” he grumbled. You looked at him kind of uncomfortably, not sure you would’ve phrased it that way, but deciding not to correct him because it was technically true. Jin looked shocked, then sympathetic, hugging you. “Our poor little duckling. That’s awful. Sounds like you could use some brownies.” He said, ruffling your hair a little. “We’ll cheer you up, kiddo, don’t worry.” He started pulling ingredients out. Jungkook took a tentative step toward you like he was afraid you’d fall apart at any second. “Hyung shouldn’t have treated you that way, noona, but it’ll be okay. No matter what happens it’ll be okay, you have all of us.” He said softly, causing Jimin to nod in agreement, giving you a supportive side hug. The boys were succeeding in making you feel at least a tiny bit better, and you were grateful for it.

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

Days passed and you still hadn’t been able to figure out what to do about Yoongi. He’d called and texted, of course, but you hadn’t actually spoken to him beyond vague replies to keep from avoiding him entirely. You reflected on how the last three weeks had felt for you. You had felt lonely and sad but most devastatingly, you’d felt completely unwanted. Your relationship had felt one-sided, like you were the only one who cared at all. Every relationship has road bumps, ups and downs, things to work through. The problem here was not that things weren’t perfect but rather that you didn’t know if you could trust Yoongi to be 100% with you in trying to make it better. A slow decline with a long time of you struggling alone to fix things would be worse than ripping off the band-aid, so to speak, and ending it now.

But you considered seriously how it would feel to end things. Just seriously considering it was enough to take your breath away and bring tears to your eyes. That was the main thing, that you didn’t want to lose him. Though the last three weeks had felt as if you’d lost him already. Was that the case? Was it really all over already anyway? Or was there a light at the end of the tunnel? Constantly considering how to move forward exhausted you. You spent the next few days in bed, in the dark, under the covers, just thinking. You were trying to put the pieces back together before you even attempted to deal with the situation.��

Here’s what you didn’t (and couldn’t) know. Yoongi was a miserable wreck for the days following your confrontation. The other boys weren’t unsympathetic, but in all honesty, they kind of felt like he deserved it, so they didn’t go out of their way to cheer him up. They’d known you quite some time now because of your friendship with Taehyung, long before you and Yoongi even really knew each other well, let alone were together. You were their friend, too, and it was clear to them that Yoongi was the one at fault in the situation. They weren’t unkind by any means, just distant.

Meanwhile Yoongi was in his studio day and night composing something for you, something that would truly show you what you meant to him. He didn’t always know what to say, but where he never failed to communicate this feelings was through his music. He felt immensely guilty about how things had transpired. What would obviously look like him not caring to you could easily be attributed to his single-minded workaholism and general obliviousness. The timing was the worst part. Yoongi had wholeheartedly meant what he said, that he was more than okay with waiting until you were ready to have sex. It genuinely wasn’t that important to him. What was actually important to him was the feeling you gave him of being understood, loved, appreciated, cared for. He couldn’t imagine a life without you in it, and the fact that he’d put the most important thing to him in jeopardy was eating him alive.

Almost a week had passed since the day in the boys’ dorms before Yoongi finally decided to take matters into his own hands. He wanted to give you space to think, but because he knew you so well he was pretty sure you had shut down entirely as you sometimes did when things became overwhelming. He made his way over to your apartment, knocking on the door. You heard the sound from your place under the covers in bed, but chose to ignore it, hoping whoever it was would go away. The knocking got progressively louder, and still you pretended you couldn’t hear it.

Yoongi silently thanked the universe that he had a key to your place. He unlocked the door and came inside, looking around your living room. As he’d expected, it was dark and empty. He immediately went to your bedroom and crouched down beside your bed, tapping you over the top of the covers your body was fully hidden by. You took a deep breath, knowing that there was no more avoiding to be done at this point. You pulled the covers down enough to let your head stick out.

The first thing you noticed were his eyes. They were so full of sadness and concern. Even with as complicated as things were now, you felt your heart clench when you saw his face, your love for him overflowing. Yoongi rested his hand on the side of your face, caressing your cheekbone with his thumb. “I’m sorry.” He whispered. You nodded slightly, shutting your eyes for a moment. When you looked at him again, he had a more determined expression. “I can’t lose you. I love you more than I will ever be able to express but at the very least, I’ve tried. I wrote something… I want you to know how much I mean it when I say I’m serious about making things better.” He sighed quietly, pulling out his phone and pressing play.

By the end of the song you had tears running down your cheeks, leaking involuntarily from your eyes. You sat up enough to lean forward and kiss him. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.” You said with a little smile. “I love you so much. I just want things to be okay again, no matter how hard we have to try to get there.” You confessed, feeling reassured. Your smile then grew as you grabbed his arm and pulled him toward you, signaling your desire for cuddles. Yoongi knew exactly what you wanted, so he climbed under the blankets and wrapped his arms around you to take his place as the big spoon. He was always your safe place, and all felt right with the world now that your refuge seemed safe once more. You didn’t expect it to be effortless to make sure this kind of situation didn’t repeat itself, but you didn’t really care. You now knew weren’t alone in this, and that was all you’d really wanted.

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Let me know what you think! <3

#bts fic #bts fanfic #bts scenario #bts scenarios #bts angst #bts fluff #bts imagine #bts imagines #bts oneshot

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yoongisbars · 5 years ago

Text

Samusil | myg | P R O L O G U E

summary: It was always known that you were the family disappointment. So naturally, you fled. With a looming school debt, alcoholic tendencies, and no luck whatsoever in keeping a job for more than a month, you were at your wits end until you finally cave into working at Bang-Lenzo. You’ve only ever heard horrors of the place and its manager. But maybe, just maybe, that office would become your safe haven.

pairing: myg x reader genre: strangers to lovers au | office!yoongi au | future angst? fluff? word count: 7.5k tw: alcohol as coping mechanism, subjects that might hit close to home note: inspired by The Office US, this is only a teaser, a taste, of a project im working on, i wont release anything besides this until its ready, so pls endure !! <3

Life was a bitch to everyone, and ever since you flunked out of Business School, it’s proven you weren’t the exception. It was an already supersaturated field with bright minded, innovative entrepreneurs. And you? Realized halfway through that the business world wasn’t cut out for you. With an overwhelmingly expensive college debt for an unfinished degree that your parents refused to pay for, you became the official family disappointment. After two years of being done with their bullshit, you finally packed your stuff and moved as far away as possible, hoping to start anew in the small town of rural Yangpiji.

Just because you had some level of education, didn’t mean it would get you quite far. It’s done the opposite, in fact. Jobs with higher wages frowned upon your incomplete studies, and jobs that didn’t give a fuck if you finished high school, didn’t pay enough to deal with their idiocies or take care of the bills for that matter. One heated argument with the owner of the last food joint you worked at was the final straw. Throwing your dirty apron at his face, you walked out of there without a single care in the world, and for the moment, you felt powerful. At least until you waltzed into Slack Jack’s and sat at the bar that night, head buried into your palms.

“Rough shift?” Your eyes peered from behind your fingers, focusing on a shot being placed in front of you. And boy, were you thankful for it. Without speaking, you threw that shit back and let it burn your throat, the only consolation for the situation you were in. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Jackson, I quit.” Feigned shock played on the bartender’s face as he cleaned a beer mug. You weren’t the only one who searched for new beginnings in Yangpiji. In front of you was Jackson Wang, owner and proprietor of Slack Jack’s. He had moved there from abroad no more than ten years ago in hopes to reinvent himself, and against all odds did. He had been your close friend for the past three years since moving. Quite frankly the only good thing this area had to offer was Jackson and his cheap drinks that get you hammered quick.

“Really? I wouldn’t have thought!” His hand shot up to cover his mouth, chuckling at your bland reaction. Rolling your eyes so far into your skull, a heavy sigh escaped from within.

“I’m serious. I quit. I quit work, I quit life, I quit Yangpiji- I’m tired… I hate that I’m a jobless 28-year-old drunk, with nothing to offer this world besides how to survive on garlic noodles and rum.” Your hands traveled the air around you as you searched for words, “I can’t even afford to make them Jjajang Noodles, Jack. JJAJANG!” A small shriek spewed out as you downed another shot, you stopped counting after the third one. Dread and sorrow pooled around you in a matter of seconds. You were at your wits end. And you couldn’t say you were past your peak, since frankly you never took off the ground to begin with. “I’m a failure, Jackson.”

Widened eyes traveled the room trying to find any words of consolation, but the bartender couldn’t find anything other than pity. His hands moved quickly, putting away the bottles before he was tempted to offer you anymore. He usually served you on the house because he knew of your struggles, but you also drank your weight in alcohol, and he didn’t want to go broke any time soon.

“Listen, chief. There’s still an option…” Oh no… You didn’t want to hear it; already knowing what was coming. “The Bang-Lenzo Yangpiji Branch is still hiring for a secretary; you should test it out.”

Ah, yes. Bang-Lenzo Inc. Somehow a successful company in the dying paper industry. One of the first to drop their deforestation contracts for their supplies and switch entirely to recycled paper. Since most companies didn’t believe in the Save The Trees movement, most of their major clients dropped them and signed contracts with Bang-Lenzo instead. Working for them would be an achievement… If only the branch in your city wasn’t a nut house.

“Jackson…” Elongating the last syllable, you groaned. “I’ve heard horror stories of people that have tried to work there, it’s chaos. No one ever lasts a full week…” The idea of even bothering to work there was dreadful. The workers there were a nightmare, so you’ve heard. But their manager? A complete lunatic. Unprofessional, immature, inappropriate, and other negative connotations have been used to describe the young manager, Jeon Jungkook. Rumor had it he was the top salesman for 4 years straight before the old manager died. When the company crunched the numbers and stats, he was technically the most qualified for the manager position and had managed to keep it for the past 5 years.

Amidst your internal struggle, Jackson raised an eyebrow and cut you straight. “It pays $15 an hour, plus benefits.” On instinct your hand shot up, doing quick maths in the air. Holy cow. You shifted your attention to Jackson so fast you almost snapped your neck.

“That’s almost $30k a year!”

“More than you’ll ever make busing tables, that’s for sure.” He had a point. And, you were desperate. Maybe not so much at first, but $15 is $15 and if it meant sacrificing your sanity for survival, well damn it, you were down for the count.

“Guess I’m speaking to Jeon…”

On Jackson’s commands and with a set of instructions, you left the bar early. ‘Prep for tomorrow, rest and sober up.’ Three things that you were never quite well doing at the very last minute. Bits and pieces of information were fed to you, in order to try and snatch the job at its core.

‘From what I’ve heard, he likes to go in on Saturday mornings to catch up on some work.’ All that meant was that you had to wake up early, and your suspected hangover did not like that. You did what any ‘sane’ person would do and popped in a pain killer and a nausea reliever, an old family remedy to wake up fresh and ready.

‘At the breakfast buffet two blocks over, I once saw him obliterate the cheddar biscuits… And I think he has a thing for sausages too.’ Really, it seemed like Jackson knew Jungkook too well, but honestly so did the town through word of mouth. That last bit of information is what made you scour the nearest convenience store for the necessary ingredients to make the piece of resistance, the key to securing your assets. With this bread you were going to get your bread.

---

Morning came quickly, as you had gone to bed late baking and sorting out your clothes for the day. Sporting one of your finer ensembles just to make a statement, you were ready to take life by the throat. A dark gray, tight pencil skirt above the knee, a light beige button up blouse with pearled buttons, and a blazer to match the skirt. You applied a fair amount of neutral colored makeup in order to rejuvenate your features to not look like you’ve been miserable for the past 10 years. You finished off the look by slipping on some classic, black Mary Jane’s.

For the first time since inheriting this 1999 Verna, you were glad the aircon was a hunk of junk and only blew hot steam. Of course you drove with the windows down to receive actual fresh air, but you angled the conductors towards the biscuits, keeping them toasty and warm as if freshly baked that morning. Jeon Jungkook would be in the palm of your hands and the job would soon be in your possession. Financial stability: here I come.

Parked outside of the building, you painted on a mask with all of the false confidence and determination you could muster, before any ounce of regret could slip in. Once the clock hit 8:55am, it was time to go. You grabbed the biscuits, which you had ever so ‘lovingly’ placed in a basket upping the charm factor, and headed for the entrance.

I need money. I need money. I need money. It was the mantra of your choosing as you took the unnervingly long elevator ride up to the Bang-Lenzo office where your unannounced meeting with Jeon Jungkook awaited. Yes, unannounced. Obviously to anyone with common sense of time, 9:00pm wasn't a viable hour to schedule a meeting for the next morning, so you decided to take the determined approach and show up like you already owned the place. For the first time you had a goal and were dead set on obtaining it. Nothing would stop you from getting that income. I need money.

‘Bang-Lenzo INC.’ read the door sign in front of you. For a moment you closed your eyes, fighting off the urge to walk back to your car and forget this place. But your mantra was quick to erase such thoughts. I desperately need money. Overpowered with feigned confidence, you strutted into the main office. Immediately you were faced with your soon to be desk. It was large and crescent shaped, spacious and tall. In a room to your right, you heard a muffled voice. Surely that was Jeon’s office. With a huff of air, you went to knock on his door.

“Huh? C-come in?” Faint and hurried clattering was heard from inside. With suspicion, you went for the door, revealing behind it the manager, and possible future boss: Jeon Jungkook. Sporting nothing but a set of gray sweats, disheveled hair, and a headset placed around his neck. “Did you need something?”

The scene in front of you made you lose focus for a split second. You had never seen him before, and by personality description you expected many things except him being viciously attractive. And also a gamer, noted by the Overwatch screen on his computer. The thought left you in a split second, you only had one goal and it did not include sleeping with the manager to reach it. You learned that only works once and it’s never rewarding.

“I’m here for the secretary position? I figured since it’s early and unannounced I’d bring in a little something to eat.” A sweet and charmful voice oozed from your throat, foreign to your body unless it was summoned. The confused manager’s doe eyes lit up once they set intensely on the basket making way to his desk. “I hope you enjoy warm biscuits.” Before he could even question what was going on, you were already sitting across from him, placing your intricate resume in front of his grubby self, you were ready to snatch this job from his hands. He had already fallen victim to the biscuits. You could see the revival in his eyes as soon as he took the first bite. Butter and cheese were the key, but it was the mini weenies hidden inside that sealed the deal.

Jungkook didn't bother to offer it much of a glance. Instead he redirected his attention to you. “Are you good with computers and organizing?” Bread crumbs and cheese lingered on the corner of his lips as he spoke, you could have sworn some spittle came in your direction as well. Upon further inspection, the food stains on his sweats may have started a whole community of bacteria. Any office fantasy of getting railed by a manager quickly died with this individual, and some word of mouth started to make sense.

“Yes. Anything document and spreadsheet related I can handle, not to mention emails, and of course scheduling agendas-“

“And you made these? From scratch?” He held a biscuit in awe, and you couldn’t help but feel success in your future.

“I did.” You offered a soft, shy smile. Another desperate attempt to charm him for the job.

“Do you think you can bring them in on Monday mornings? Starting this Monday? Tell you what, I’ll raise you to $16 an hour if you do.” You choked on your saliva, instantly entering a coughing fit. He really might be off his rocker, but in this economy, who cares? Not you, because for simply baking Sunday nights you get an extra $40 a week. With this bread, you get your bread.

“I certainly can! It would be my pleasure.” “Great! Then let’s sign the paperwork and make it official.” He rummaged through his files to retrieve the contract. “Gosh, I can’t wait to tell the other managers all about my new beautiful secretary who cares for me, and cooks for me, and, who knows; maybe even have a secret romance with me?” There it was, the inappropriateness everyone talked about. Jungkook didn’t give you time to come out of your confused state. “Ha! I’m kidding! It’s just a joke. We’re professional. Professional. We’ll of course report our relationship to HR.” A noise seemingly from The Grudge escaped you. There was an ungodly uncomfortable silence before he decided to kill the awkwardness of the situation.“KIDDING AGAIN!”

You didn’t question the lacking interview, or how Jungkook was quick to hire you. It was the most unethical thing in the world and yet? You didn’t care. You were one step closer to financial stability, and that was all you could ever ask for. With the contract filled out and already added to the payroll, you had officially signed your soul over to the white collar world. Serving as the official secretary of Jeon Jungkook. He truly was an oddball, and somewhat inappropriate, but he didn’t give any indication of being an asshole of a boss. Too friendly and annoying, but you had the gut feeling he might just be a decent enough boss. Or at least not so much of an idiot that you can tolerate working for. Besides, the money’s good.

Walking out of and looking back at the building, your eyes spotted his office windows, with him behind, cheerfully waving you off as he ate the remains of the biscuits. A subtle reminder, you needed to prep your baking game.

---

With a more dressed down version of what you wore to the impromptu interview, you drove your car over to the office building. Only this time, pulling up to the parking lot as you were now an employee. Jungkook’s car was already there. A sleek, black Equus. In comparison to its ancestor, your Verna, it exuded upper management presence. He clearly was a successful 27 year old, and you aspired to be able to reach as much coin as he probably had some day. Really, all you ever wanted in life was money. Were you willing to work much for it though? Probably not, but you didn’t have a choice. It was time to get in gear and make up for lost time. 10 years of your life, in fact.

You stopped thinking about past mistakes before you could let them affect your first day. Taking the biscuits and purse in a hurried manner, you rushed up to the office. Only an hour earlier than the rest, but you still had things to prove, if only to yourself.

Upon arrival, Jungkook was busy fiddling on your computer. Documents and folders were neatly spread out on a corner of your desk, waiting to be filed and sorted.

“Hey Y/N, You’re early! I hope you don’t mind, I’m setting up your company email so you can quickly get started.” His quick fingers stopped abruptly, for just a moment, his hand reaching for the biscuits. “And thank you for these, I didn’t think you’d actually make them.” He cocked his head in surprise and took a bite before finishing setting up your computer and programs. The comment left you with an odd feeling.

“Of course I would, I promised it.” Truthfully you only agreed because of the pay raise, but you would still hold up with it. No complaints. “Why did you up my pay grade if you didn’t think so?”

“I don’t know, incentive? I figured this would be an easier way to have someone stay for longer than a week at least.” Shaking his head for only a brief second, he continued. “But there’s something about you that tells me you’re going to be the perfect fit here. You have potential, Y/N. That’s why I hired you.” What the fuck was he talking about, ‘Potential’? You were a 28 year old deadbeat, a failure and a degenerate according to your relatives. You had anything but potential. Noting the hesitation to answer, Jungkook changed the subject swiftly.

“And it’s done. I’ll give you a quick rundown of things on the machine and then we can work with organizing my schedule, I am so out of sync with this company and I haven’t a clue when my next meetings are.” With a clap, he stood up and motioned you to the seat. He continued to peruse through the biscuit basket, searching for the ‘cheesiest ones’.

After a tour throughout the company programs and where supplies and files were around the office, the other workers started to arrive in a timely fashion. Some didn’t bother to give you the time of day, but others decided to greet you as soon as they walked in. Particularly a few of the guys from accounting and sales were quite enthusiastic to greet you. If you remembered correctly, the younger pair of them were from Accounting; Jimin and Taehyung, they were really nice, a bit shy as were you, but very polite and warm. You watched as they sat at their corner and bickered slightly, but it seemed to be in honest fun. The one from sales, Hoseok, was the opposite in terms of shyness. He welcomed you with the most charming of smiles and emphasized that if you ever needed a helping hand around the office to not hesitate to ask him. He cheerfully chatted your ear for a few minutes giving you a small idea of what a day in the office might be. “It’s not that bad once you get used to it, you just need to give us a chance.” You heard his hidden pleas. Many people came and went from this place and their tongues never ceased to express their distaste for it. Even most of your coworkers gave off an air of annoyance with the place. You couldn’t blame them, but basing your experience on first impressions only, it could be worse. Only time will reveal the shithole everyone else claims this place to be.

It was 20 minutes past 8:00am and the once empty office was now filled and working. Jungkook came out of his office ever so often, glancing over the the desks, ‘tsk tsk tsk’ is all he ever spoke before going back behind his door. You thought to ignore his manner and focus on organizing his schedule based on the emails he forwarded you. He had plenty of meetings, webinars and conference calls to attend, and they were all scattered around. On your shared calendar, you added the event reminder and description for each and every one for the next month, even going an extra step to add reminders on your own calendar the day before, just to make sure he’s up to date.

A new email displayed on the screen, an impromptu conference call for Jungkook in 10 minutes labeled ‘URGENT’. You were about to head to his office to notify him, but you remained seated as the entrance door swung abruptly, startling you just enough to make you forget your name and the company you now work for. All you saw was a coat being placed on the rack next to you with an exasperated sigh escaping the core of the individual. Right away, it was clear that if there was anyone in the entire building that hated having to wake up early in the morning just to show up to work in this unfortunate place more than you, it was him. Like the majority of the employees, he looked straight up miserable, even behind dark colored sunglasses. The freshly made venti Iced Americano, the slow paced walk to his desk and his disregard to show up on time were, in your opinion, strong indicators of his likely hatred for his job.

Settled in his desk, he removed his shades. His narrow, cat-like eyes drew you in like magnets, there was no telling whether or not his iciness was natural, or a ruse to limit his interactions with the rest of the staff. Yet somehow they were still fitting for his rounder, chubbier cheeks. His lips were already pursed downward, but they seemed to curl even further and remain that way almost permanently as Jungkook peered his head out. You tried calling out to him, but your voice was muted by his own exclaims.

“Yoongi!” He shouted, you could say enthusiastically, towards the late addition in the office. He released another sigh, this time accompanied by an eye roll.

“Not now, Jungkook.” His voice was deep and low. Eyes never abandoning his monitor as Jungkook approached him.

Whatever conversation they were having was nothing but whispers and subtle head shakes. Yoongi was it? Didn’t seem in the mood for whatever chatter the manager kept going on about. You noticed bow everyone in the office was trying to work, but not being able to steal sudden glances from the conversation. Judging by those, especially Hoseok’s since he was sitting right at the situation, you assume they all had an idea as to what was unfolding. You, however, could only assume was an odd scolding in Jungkook’s manner for him showing up late.

A ringing alert brought your focus back to your own desk, the incoming call you guessed was from Corporate due to the email. Jungkook had previously requested that you warn him first before answering any calls from them, and you remembered what you were ready to do before Yoongi walked in. Not wanting to bring in any attention to yourself you debated quickly which was the best option, calling him over or going straight to him, but you didn’t even answer yourself before your legs started moving on their own.

“Jungkook.” You tapped his shoulder gently, and spoke softly. The young manager startled a bit, and you were unsure if the other man’s expression was relief or annoyance, but you let it go quickly.

“Yes? Oh! That reminds me. Everyone!” What you wanted to avoid was exactly what he gathered: attention.

“This is Y/N, office secretary. I want you all to make her feel welcome, be kind.” He kept going on one of his badly timed speeches until no one paid him any mind.

“Jungkook, you have-”

“Would you both excuse yourselves and talk elsewhere?” The deep voice that spoke seemed to command more authority than Jungkook did.

“Sorry,Y/N. Yoongi’s a bit on edge due to his divorce trial.” The last phrase he tried to utter as a whisper by leaning close to your ear, and although he made it sound like such, it was still loud enough for people to hear.

“Do you really have to tell people about my personal life? Where does it end with you?”

“I felt like I needed to excuse your attitude, she’s part of our family now anyways, she can know.”

Their bickering picked up again, Jungkook defending the reasoning for his declarations and Yoongi countering with how he always oversteps fine lined boundaries and doesn't have any common sense. Although you very much agreed with what Yoongi was saying that it was an invasion of privacy, you were still caught in the middle of their crossfire and all you wanted to do was inform Jungkook about the god forsaken call.

“JUNGKOOK.” Your raised voice silenced their bickering, and the room came to an onlooking halt. Anxiety started creep behind you due to shouting over your manager on your first day, causing flashbacks of previous outcomes due to this similar situation to roll like a montage in your head, but your patience was running thin.

“What, what is it?” Jungkook, unphased by the situation, cocked his head at you in slight confusion.

“You have a call from Corporate.” You maintained your stern tone, but you were wavering internally. His demeanor took a turn, eyes so wide you feared they would pop out.

“Did you answer?” Whispers gave an undertone of fear. With the phone still ringing in the background, you shook your head.

“Good. Tell them I’m out with a major client. I’m not here.” He hurriedly walked you back to the phone. The glint in his eyes says you should worry, but you swallowed and answered with the same feigned confidence you used for the interview.

“Bang-Lenzo, this is Y/N.”

You successfully got rid of the Corporate call in the morning, but you were unsure how long that might last given the urgency they requested it with. And Jungkook’s behavior regarding any calls from Corporate today, or the rest of the week from what he stated, was worrisome. It was a concern you’d tuck to the back of your head, it wasn’t your business anyways.

As the day went on, you saw that life in the office was quite eventful, so to speak. After the ordeal of Yoongi’s divorce proceedings this morning, and Jungkook avoiding Corporate like the Black Plague, an array of unusual things for a normal day to day office routine continued to happen.

Mainly, Jungkook was entirely distracting. To you, the staff and mostly to himself. He would constantly try to make conversation with anyone, and the topics were always painfully awkward. Anytime he was actually in his office, more time was spent playing Overwatch with Taehyung than doing any kind of work. Not to mention he eventually ventured over to the conference room, with Jimin and Hoseok in toe, for their “twice a day dancercise routine” as their official 15 minute break away from their computers.

If you thought the nonsense would end there, you were soon to be corrected. It in fact continued in the numerous times Taehyung and Jimin came by your desk asking for copies. And not even official work copies- they were asking you to print out different versions of invitational flyers for their ‘seasonal crop party’. To your surprise, Taehyung had inherited the only strawberry farm in the region due to his grandparents passing, not like you had bothered to ask anyways. The only question you cared an answer for was if Jungkook had approved of using office supplies for this. It shouldn't have shocked you like it did that the man himself had designed the flyer and organized such an event, but still.

Lunchtime couldn’t arrive quicker. Some of the staff beelined with their meals over to the lunchroom area, while the others went out to eat. You half expected Jungkook to take advantage of the lunchroom crowd for his shenanigans, but he opted for eating in his office with Jimin and Taehyung instead. You could hear their incessant planning murmurs as you passed by to heat up your meal.

“Y/N!” Jungkook exclaimed once he caught your movement. “If the others give you the cold shoulder, feel free to join us here for lunch.”

“Oh, it’s okay. I planned on eating at my desk,” You chose your next words carefully, feeling the party planners’ gazes. “But I’ll keep it in mind in case I get too lonely, thank you!” The soft smile that spread across your smile was enough to comfort them from the small rejection. They went back to their discussions and you headed for the microwave.

Peaking your head into the lunchroom, it was filled with the younger, unwelcoming faces from earlier. It’s not like you planned on sitting down and chatting with them, you were there just to heat up your lunch, but upon entry you noticed how their conversations volumes lowered all the way down to whispers and snickers. You focused your attention on the whirring noises and beeps the microwave offered as a mere distraction. It was a curse you carried for as long as you could remember. Any giggle, whisper, snicker, or anything of the sort you heard in your perimeter, you felt was directed at you. As if they could see the list of failures and misfortunes displayed on your back.

You took your bowl and offered the room a nervous smile and nod before leaving, hoping it came across as a ‘sorry to bother, enjoy your lunch’. As you exited the room, Hoseok, tailed by Yoongi, was heading with his food over to the conference room.

“Y/N, come join us if you want.” Hoseok was beaming, if the sun was human it would be him. Contrary to the one walking past him, not bothering to stop. He could be truthfully considered the dark side of the moon. Although with his back to you, you could make out his unrelenting scowl reflecting in the conference room’s glass wall. “Ignore him, he’s still mad over this morning.”

“All things considered, I can’t blame him. But I think I’ll pass.” Hoseok hooked his free arm around yours before you could continue.

“Nonsense, you shouldn’t cast yourself out on the first day.” In truth, Hoseok’s friendly manner and joyous attitude couldn’t be denied. You felt his genuine interest in making sure your transition into the office was a smooth one. In the room, Yoongi was already gulpin down his food, not bothering to glance up until he spoke.

“Shut the door so I can tell you…” Words escaped him, replaced by a sigh as he spotted your presence, and Hoseok’s sudden realization of what this lunch reunion entailed. Surely, they were meant to discuss the divorce proceedings, but Hoseok forgot upon trying to welcome you.

“Right… Y/N, rain check? Alone on your first day though...” He sighed as he flushed with embarrassment and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Don’t worry,” that was directed more at Yoongi if anything, a small assurance accompanied by the subtlest of nods. The rest was for Hoseok, as a dismissive joke to calm his worries. “I’ll probably join the Crop Festers and their shenanigans.” He cocked his head in confusion, a sharp ‘hm?’ caught in his throat. You brushed it off, leaving them with a wave. Wishing them a nice lunch and closing the door behind you, it was unknown to you that the Crop Festers had overheard, and were expecting you at Jungkook’s door excitedly.

“So you’re joining us then?” Taehyung assumed overjoyed, and Jimin couldn’t hide his giddiness. Jungkook was at the back at his desk, shaking his head in tune with soft chuckles before waving you in. It was clear that there was no way to have an unbothered lunch for the next 45 minutes, so… You joined.

Tae, as he now urged you to call him, and Jimin made space for you between them. Rice, meats, noodles, and an array of veggies were spread across the desk, now along with your own addition of food and in no time you were all eating and sharing your meals. Jungkook even offered up the few remaining biscuits, causing Tae and Jimin to fuss over why weren’t they brought out sooner and how good of a cook you were. Now they were expectant for next Monday morning for a pleasant cheesy boost.

Unknown to your conscious self, you were having a nice time. Further into the lunch, you became more involved with the Crop Party planning, and were even getting a bit excited for the day to arrive. A paid work day for a strawberry picking party? Who could say no to that? You weren’t ready to admit it just yet, with it being the first day and all, but… You were starting to like this place, even if you weren’t ready to acknowledge it. Once lunch was over, and everyone was making their way back to their desks, they eyed you with slight annoyance as you walked out of the office along with Tae and Jimin, still laughing at one of Jungkook’s impressions of some of the staff. Unaware, Yoongi and Hoseok exchanged a suspicious glance. Who was to blame any of them? It was a first for them to see someone new being friendly, or accepting the office shenanigans as they transpired.

Afternoon was a milder version of what the morning turned out to be, everyone was calmer now, and as the hours passed you noticed they worked harder. Even Jungkook was filing reports and taking work calls, as long as they weren’t from Corporate. One of your last tasks was to send out some notice of change in policy emails to clients, it was the most time consuming, but it helped the remaining hours pass by in a flurry.

Bags started to be packed and coats began to be thrown on as the clock got nearer to 5:00pm. Everyone was ready to put an end to the odd Monday, and you could tell by their soft smiles and shy ‘See you tomorrow’s. Hoseok dropped by your desk with a “Lunch tomorrow, for sure!” before leaving and wishing you well. Yoongi followed behind him, not offering anything at all. More than likely still fussy over his personal issues being announced in the office. Jimin and Taehyung each went for a goodbye hug, as they were more than excited to have you aboard. Often they carpooled, you found out that they live together on the farm. After being friends for so long, they decided to run it together. Only you and Jungkook, who was still stuck in his office remained. With your things on hand, you peered through his window to give him a small wave which he returned, followed by pointing to the phone and making mocking expressions of talking too much. With a shake of your head, you went to clock out, putting an end to the first day on the job. You would call it a success, for it being your very first 8-5, and it deemed celebration. So once you hopped on your Verna, and peered out of the parking lot, your destination was clear: Slack Jack’s.

You had never once been there on a Monday, much less after 5:00pm. Late weekend nights were what you had grown accustomed to due to your old odd jobs here and there. But much to your surprise, the ambience at this hour was much more tranquil and up your alley than what you were used to. You hated crowds and loud groups of people, and there was none of that here. Eyes scanned the bar for your favorite and only owner, who upon noticing your arrival called you over to an empty stool up at the bar. Eager steps made their way over as he placed your favorite shot on the counter: a water moccasin. You paid no mind to the individual next to your stool as you sat down, eyes trained on the peachy, sweet and sour whiskey shot glass before you. Widened eyes stared, unknown to you, as you drank it in one big gulp, placing the now empty glass on the counter, snapping and pointing at Jackson with finger guns as you exclaimed “Hit me again”.

A smirk played on the corners of his mouth as he placed a second one just as you finished asking. Knowing your habits, he made two as soon as he saw you. “I’m guessing today went... ?” He was expecting you to tell him all about your day, as soon as you finished fighting off the burning feeling down your throat. It was always the second one that got you the most. Hissing for only a few seconds, you spoke.

“Honestly? Honestly honest? I can’t complain.” Alcohol was slowly starting to take effect on you as you rambled on. “At first I was kinda freaked out? Because everyone was kinda weird? OH! And then Jungkook decided to out a guy’s whole divorce or something?” In the background, next to you, someone cleared their throat as Jackson bit his bottom lip, trying to hold in a chuckle, but you went on. “I don’t know, it was weird. But like afterwards, it was pretty chill. Jungkook ain’t that bad. And lowkey? I can’t wait for the strawberry season, dude.” A snort escaped you as you thought back on the Crop Party. You couldn’t wait. Tae mentioned something about making fresh milkshakes, and right now you were wildin’ at the thought.

“So I’m guessing you’ve met Yoongi?” Jackson’s hand motioned you to look to your right. Lo and Behold, Mr. Divorcee was magically there, a citrus whiskey on the rocks in his hands. And that’s when it hits you, you have a loud mouth.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” Eyes like a deer in headlights, pleading for forgiveness. Yoongi waved it off. You finally heard his voice without a hint of annoyance.

“It’s fine.” Bringing the glass to his lips, he took a long sip. Which reminded you.

“Jackson, may I please--”

“Have another?” He chuckled as he went to prepare a fresh shot. “Don’t get carried away tonight, though. You work tomorrow, remember?”

“Hey, I have self control. I won’t drink past 6:30, I swear.” To even prove such control, you didn’t rush to down the shot. Instead you tried to build a conversation with the man in charge of the drinks, but he cursed silently at a reminder.

“Fuck, excuse me for a sec. I have to call my parents.” You remembered him mentioning something about an upcoming anniversary as he rushed to the back, leaving you alone with Yoongi, a shot and your thoughts.

Allowing your mind to travel far for a moment, the waterfall of bitter memories with your family started to cloud your field of vision. Forgetting where you were and who was around, you brought your hands up to either cheek and gave yourself some quick, small smacks in an attempt to distract your tear ducts from doing their job. A groan escaped you as you reached for the shot in front of you, disappearing it in an instant. So much for self control.

The man next to you watched in awe. He already knew far more about you than whatever first impressions you thought you gave, courtesy of Jackson. But he was one to always doubt the extent of the things he said, and since forming odd suspicions of you at the office, he figured now was the time to see if anything added up.

“Escapism?” The sudden voice shocked you, and brought you back to reality. Another snort made its way out your nose, in an endearing manner.

“You can say that. No, you know what? Life is a bitch.” In your drunken manner, you broke. You vented, you ranted, and you rambled. You laid out your entire life in front of this man, this stranger, revealing more than what was necessary, but you couldn’t stop yourself. “And now here I am.” Fingers tapped the counter, antsy. Waiting for Jackson to come back and serve you yet another shot to calm down.

“I see, I’m sorry for all that. Things are looking up now, at least?” Yoongi shrugged, a winced expression since your story was still fresh in his mind. “But, if it makes you feel any better, I have some fucked up shit going on myself."

“Oh really? A divorce? Family exile beats loveless marriage any day, boy.” Another side effect of your alcoholism was straight up competitiveness. Even though it stung him, he couldn’t help but laugh. For him, it even felt like the first time in a while he had done so earnestly.

“My wife is pregnant.” Whiskey glass was brought back to his lips for a moment, barely touching them. “And it’s not mine.” He finished off the remainder of the glass, while you stared in silence, jaw dropped.

“Whoa, that sucks... How do you know though?” You brought your face closer to him, in curious intrigue, not knowing what personal space was; but he didn’t mind much as he inched in a bit closer to speak.

“I had a vasectomy.” A sighed escaped his core as he too revealed his life to a stranger. “Before we got married, we were clear that we didn’t want children. At least not for a long time, so I got the surgery done. If we ever wanted kids we would have a talk and take out time to decide how to go about it. But one day,” he shook his head, thoughts lost in the memory “she was very persistent that I go get the reversal done. Like, that I had to get it done that week. And I found that suspicious, so I pretended to get it.” His fingers now mimicked yours earlier, lightly tapping on the counter. “We waited the recovery time, had sex, and a few days later, she was pregnant. So I filed for divorce. Do I win now?” His usual serious pout curled into a smirk as you shook your head no.

“Nah, I still win. You can always get a new wife, I can never get new parents. I don’t make the rules, chief.”

The mood was starting to liven up, but the universe often threw curveballs in your direction. Text alerts distracted you from your office chatter with Yoongi, and again, you soured. It wasn’t often when you received messages from your cousin, but you never talked about the elephant in the room. This time, however.

‘Your dad’s been asking about you lately. Anything worth mentioning?’ You watched the words fade from the pop-up screen, and debated in silence. The shift was visible, and Yoongi caught it as it happened. “Is everything okay?” he asked. Instead of answering, you simply opened the chat and showed him the message. Grabbing your phone in his hands he stared.

“Do I answer? Do I just leave it for tomorrow? What could I even bother telling?” Complaints continued to spew out of your mouth, muting the light clicks of Yoongi’s rapid fingers working on the keyboard. You’re only brought back from your rambles when you feel him pressing your phone still in his hand, back into yours, a message already written out in the text box.

‘I just started at a new office job. Safe, secure. It’s working out.’ Short, simple and to the point. A quick nod was enough for him to press send. As he pulled away, leaving you with the chat which was instantly read, you expected to feel a bit better, but your worries and anxiety remained as your fingers drummed at a quickened pace, itching for yet another shot.

Right on cue, Jackson’s presence made its way to you. Catching your tells, his hands moved straight to the Schnapps.

“Actually, I think she might be better off with water instead.” You shot daggers at him, annoyed at such an assumption. “Same for me. You said you won’t drink past 6:30. I don’t make the rules, chief.” You couldn't grumble out much, because as much as you desperately wanted to be irresponsible and drown your sorrows in waves of alcohol, you had a new, very decent, job to uphold. And that required showing up sober.

The rest of the night went by pretty decently, ending with a new weird routine of going home early instead of waiting until Jackson finished closing off, to drag you all the way to his car. The nights you drove to your home from the bar were less than the ones he posted you up at his own apartment.

“You’re good to drive, right?” This time, it was Yoongi who was nice enough to walk you over to the beat up Verna at the end of the lot.

“Surprisingly enough, I am. Thanks.” Sticking the key into the lock, you jiggled it around. The only sure way to open the door these days. “What about you?”

“Considering I only had one glass of whiskey, I think I’m alright.” He motioned over to the Genesis next to you. “I’m gonna head out. Drive safe.”

You nod and make sure he's at least safe besides his car door before entering yours. Turning back briefly to look at you, your goodbye wave stops halfway as his words reach your ears.

“Lunch tomorrow.” Is all he says. he doesn't even bother waiting for a confirmation, he simply gets inside his car and drives away.

Starting up your car was always a hassle but you got it kicking in no time. As you pulled out of the lot, you spotted the Genesis still at the empty intersection. You flashed your headlights twice before heading the opposite direction, and from your rearview saw him continue on his way. Despite all the characters and particular personas inhabiting the living bodies of your coworkers, you couldn’t help but think: Yoongi's just might be the most intriguing to you after all.

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