#i remember being shocked at the garlic part | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

crackship-connoisseur · 1 year ago

Text

take care of you

Summary: Edalyn goes to investigate the home of her older sister Evelyn after word reaches her that vampire hunters may have attacked. She expects to find any sign of the family's whereabouts but is shocked to discover only one member seems to remain...

Word Count: 19,764

Characters: Edalyn Clawthorne, Evelyn Clawthorne, Caleb Wittebane, Hunter (The Owl House)

CWs: house burning, child abandonment and neglect, death

A/N: i'm not as fond of this fic as i was initially but i feel like if i edit it any more i will explode so this is what you get

~~~~

The rain came pouring down quite heavily, which was not ideal for a vampire out in the night. It didn't necessarily hurt them, but it was still a great hindrance. Messed with their powers. And there were very few trees around to take shelter underneath.

The clouds were thick and thunderous, completely blocking out the moonlight. But this was no issue for the vampire's ability to see in the dark as if it were day. The figure, shrouded under her dark cloak bedazzled with a ruby button, sprinted between trees as she made her way to the 18th century style mansion. These types of houses weren't necessarily uncommon, but it certainly stuck out having not been refurbished nor surrounded by similar houses. What made it more unusual, was the very clearly collapsed parts of the house, the structure having been weakened from burning as the wood was charred. It was a wonder how it still stood upright at all.

As Edalyn approached the door, finally sheltered under an archway, she pulled back her hood to get a better look at the place, her mass of bright ginger hair letting loose from underneath. She tried to peek into any windows she could from where she was standing, and glanced around behind her a few times, just to make sure no one, not even a vampire could be there.

It had been quite a long time since she had visited this house. She remembered touring the place after her sister had purchased it with her human husband. They wanted to start a family together. Edalyn always wondered if it was going to be a large one, from the sheer size of the house, but she knew how much Evelyn liked her space. She had missed so much in person over the years that she only ever got to experience through letters, and regretted being so caught up in her own business now that she was here to investigate devastation.

Edalyn hesitated on the door handle with these thoughts, quite terrified of what might lay inside, but she inhaled her fear and shoved open the door.

She wasn't really sure what she expected. Possibly the worst, but she was met with stagnant, musty air and the old smell of burning wood. She thought she could detect a whiff of old garlic which made her wince in disgust. Vampire hunters. Just as she suspected. She tried not to let her worst suspicions consume her just yet. There was a chance she'd find a clue of their life, if she just kept looking.

The first place she looked was the basement, which led to the chapel that would conceal their tombs. If the vampire hunters hadn't been cruel, they would be there, and if they had been stupid, they would only be staked in the heart. Very easily revivable. But as she shoved the stone lid off of her sister's coffin, her heart sank. There was no one inside. She did the same for her husband, Caleb, but he was nowhere to be found either.

Edalyn stood stunned for a moment, fighting tears that already convinced her of the worst possible outcome. She shook herself from it and tried to reassure herself that they could still be alive. They could have merely escaped the house, and left a hidden note of their location somewhere. Determined, she ran back up the stairs to the main house.

The young vampire anxiously made her way around every room on the first floor, checking every cabinet, drawer, or dresser, and taking note of the sheer carnage that was left. Indeed the main parlor next to the fourier was partially burnt and collapsed, the heavy rain seeping in. Edalyn did her best to avoid the wet as she looked through the salvageable drawers. She unsurprisingly found nothing, but she figured it was best to do a thorough search, just in case. She knew any secrets would most likely be on the upper floors, in the unused bedrooms.

She quickly made her way up the grand staircase and stood at the top, pausing for a moment, expecting something, but there was nothing nor anyone there. It was strange. It almost felt like there was a presence on this level of the house, but she could see nothing in the deep darkness of the hallway, not even with her night vision.

Still, she figured she'd better be careful. She made her way slowly down the hallway, taking in the few paintings and portraits left on the walls. Some of them were scorched, likely from the torches of the hunters. She entered every room she came across, whether they be locked or not, using her supernatural abilities to slip through the cracks in each door. Some were completely ransacked by hunters, others remained untouched, but regardless, she made quick yet thorough work of examining every nook and cranny, desperately looking for any sign that her family could be alive somewhere.

Her desperation strangely ceased every time she reentered that hallway, for she could feel that odd presence there, and it made her cautious, yet curious. Perhaps it was merely some woodland critters that were taking shelter from the rain that she was mistaken for someone bigger? The presence did feel rather small, but maybe it was trying to make itself small…

Edalyn tried not to let it bother her as she made her way up the smaller stairs at the end of the hallway to the third floor. If there was to be anything, it would absolutely be here. It had to be. She checked in the first room on the right, which appeared to be fashioned into a large nursery, the leftover toys covered in thick layers of dust and cobwebs, but found nothing. The first door on the left was another library, filled with equally dusty books, but still, she found nothing. The second door on the right, the clearly unused grand bedroom that would have been meant for the heads of the house, was exactly the type of place Edalyn suspected would definitely have what she was looking for.

She quickly entered the room, initially not bothering to take in any of the surroundings, but was immediately hit with a strange wave of despair. It felt as if something horrible had happened in this room, a nauseating chill that she did not feel in any of the other rooms she searched. It stopped Edalyn in her tracks, and she felt as if she could have broken down right there. The reality of the situation could have easily overtaken her, but she triumphed once more in fighting off her tears. She was still holding onto hope of the survival of her beloved sister.

Edalyn practically tore apart the room, knowing that her sister would have likely used the main bedrooms as a storage for her personal things, and more importantly, as storage for her secrets. A storage for any sort of clue that could lead her sister to her. A storage for something, anything that would prevent even the very idea of this horrid event from being true. Each empty hiding spot only contributed to that sinking feeling. Edalyn checked every inch of that room until there was…

...Nothing. Her hope was rapidly fading. She collapsed into the vanity chair that she had paused at and very lazily prodded at the dusty objects left on the table, until she came to the music box.

The very music box that she herself had given Evelyn as a wedding present. She very gently wound it up until the lid opened by itself, and the spinning figure inside spun along with the music.

Edalyn didn’t know what to think. She couldn't fathom how something like this could happen, how vampire hunters could have gotten here. She was certain that Evelyn and her husband were strong and resourceful enough to have fought them off. But the emptiness in the house only seemed to prove otherwise…

As the music ended and the box closed on its own, Edalyn's head fell into her arms onto the table. The heavy feeling in the room finally put enough pressure onto her to force out her sobbing. She sat like that for a good long while, indulging in her worst fears. If they really had been killed, she felt it was her fault. Had she just made more room in her life to spend time with her blood family… maybe she could have been there to help. She did not want it to be her fault. She did not want them to be dead. She was not ready to accept it. She never even got a chance to meet their newborn son…

Suddenly, in the midst of her weeping, despite the suffocating feeling all around her, she suddenly felt as if someone was watching her. Her head shot up from the vanity table and whipped around to the door, but she saw no one.

That feeling was undeniable now, there was definitely someone here, and it wasn't just a woodland animal. She was racking her brain of the possibilities as she slowly stood and carefully made her way to the door. Poking her head out, she looked down either side of the hallway, stepping further out and checking to make sure no one was behind her. She turned to face the unsearched rooms, scratching her head in confusion, when she heard a voice finally call out from behind her.

"Who are you?" The voice sounded quite young, yet strangely rough.

Edalyn whipped around to meet the face of a young boy who couldn't have been more than sixteen years old, standing rigidly in the entryway of the room she had just come from. He was most definitely a vampire, with his pointed ears, sharp teeth, and piercing red eyes. There was certainly some relief in that. But Edalyn's heart dropped as she recognized the unmistakable features of Caleb's face.

"You're Hunter, aren't you?" Edalyn said incredulously.

"Who are you and what are you doing in this house?!" The boy demanded.

Edalyn blinked the tears forcefully out of her eyes and shook her head as if to fight off a hallucination, but when the boy still stood clear in her mind, she began to approach him gently with both arms extended in a friendly manner. If Hunter was alive, it was still possible that Evelyn and Caleb could be. Surely, they wouldn’t have abandoned something as precious as their son all alone here. She still clung to that hope.

"I'm your mother's sister, Edalyn. You know, your mother Evelyn?" She tried to be gentle with him.

"Don't come any closer!" Hunter warned as he shrank away from Edalyn's gesture.

She stopped, taken aback by his forcefulness. She supposed he got from her side of the family. Hawthornes could be quite stand-offish. She pulled back and stood plainly before responding to his other question.

"I'm here because I received word that something may have happened to my sister." She answered.

The boy looked at her for a moment, quite angrily.

"Well you're far too late to do anything about it." He finally retorted.

"Word doesn't travel fast when you're out of the country, let alone if you're a vampire." Edalyn explained.

There was a pause as they stood awkwardly, looking toward the floor, unsure of what to do or say. Edalyn finally met his gaze again, and started to approach once more.

"Please, won't you tell me what happened here? I am not your enemy, I'm not here to hurt you. I really am related to your mother, and I just want to know where she and her husband went." She pleaded.

Hunter’s expression shifted into a worried grimace as he still looked to the floor, before he stepped out of the doorway and reached his hand out, a pinky extended. Though surprised, Edalyn immediately recognized the gesture. A pinky promise. Something that she learned from her whole family. Of course Evelyn would have passed it on. She locked her own pinky with his and shook it firmly.

"A pinky promise." She said, a glint of comfort in her otherwise melancholic voice.

Hunter smiled awkwardly at her, but he became much more relaxed, having established a foolproof method of trust in his mind. He remembered his mother established such a gesture as only a thing amongst family, and if this stranger knew of it, she was surely family.

"Now tell me," Edalyn began, finally rubbing her face dry. "Why did your parents leave you here?"

Hunter slowly looked down to the floor again, a grim expression coming across his face. He hesitated for a moment as he shrunk completely in on himself.

"They're dead." He blurted out forcefully, as he turned to walk away.

Edalyn gasped, and stood in her place in shock before she realized the answers to the flood of questions entering her mind were walking down the hall. She could feel her grief welling up inside her, her denial shattered. She wanted to hound his boy with more questions, but she realized by the look of him, that he probably really didn't want to talk about it. Her demeanor became more solemn as she followed quietly behind him.

"Was it the hunters?" She whispered, barely able to speak.

The boy met her eyes over his shoulder, his own clearly wet, and he simply nodded.

Edalyn could no longer hold back her own tears. Not only were her fears confirmed in that she had completely lost her sister and brother-in-law, but their child had been left alone with this trauma for who knows how long, living all by himself with no one to raise him. She had a million more questions, but the instinct to ask them was not more powerful than the instinct to comfort.

"Oh Hunter, I'm so sorry." She choked out.

She gently grabbed his face as he now turned toward her before she pulled him in close and held onto him tightly. This was her nephew, and she was determined to make sure that he was taken care of, above all else.

"H-how did you know my name?" Hunter asked, rather bewildered by the intense emotions.

Edalyn pulled away from the embrace, keeping one hand on Hunter's shoulder and the other wiping at her cheek.

"Your mother told me about you, in her letters." She answered, her voice quivering.

"She wrote you letters?" Hunter inquired.

"Yes. But then they stopped coming… and I got worried…" Edalyn replied.

She looked to the floor, seemingly trapped in a daze. She tried to gather her memories and thought process from before she came here. The daze only lasted a moment before she breathed a heavy sigh, and continued.

"I figured it was fine for a while. They were probably quite busy raising you. But then I heard that nobody, not even their closest friends had heard from neither Evelyn nor Caleb, and that there had been a great commotion at the house." She paused in thought.

"No one would elaborate, so I came to investigate myself." Edalyn finished.

The emotions were hitting her again. She pressed her hand over her eyes as if that would work as flood gates. Hunter could see her lips contorted into an intense frown. He mindlessly seemed to copy her expression as he reached his hand over to hers placed on his shoulder in a gesture of comfort. He could hear her take in another shivery sigh in an attempt to compose herself.

"I have so many questions to ask you." Edalyn could barely get her words out.

"We should probably sit down for it." Hunter smiled awkwardly yet again, trying to ease the tension.

He took her hand in his and began leading her through the rest of the hallway and back down to the first floor. She followed him wordlessly all the way into a larger drawing room that hadn’t been affected by the fire at the back of the house. It almost seemed to function as more of a back porch as there were very large windows that looked out into a garden in the backyard, with an accompanying greenhouse. The pouring rain that came with the storm had ceased enough to see that said greenhouse and garden had become rather unkempt.

"Do you want me asking questions? I don't know how fresh it is in your mind." Edalyn asked as she swiped off some of the dust on her chair and her spot at the table, before promptly sitting down.

"It's alright. I'm fine with it I think." Hunter said, sitting cross-legged with his hands folded neatly on the dusty tablecloth.

Edalyn was surprised at his manners, compared to hers where she sat slouched back in the chair, hands folded on her lap. She couldn't be bothered to perform such etiquette after all the blows to her emotions. She wondered if maybe Hunter was so rigid because he was nervous. She was little more than an acquaintance at this point.

She twiddle her thumbs in her lap for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts to coherence.

"Do you remember anything that happened?" She finally asked, looking up from her thumbs.

"Not really. It was such a long time ago. I think I must have been five." Hunter responded, instinctively looking away from her gaze.

Five years old. This was a complete shock to Edalyn. This poor boy had to fend for himself at such a young age, barely older than infancy. And no one came to his rescue. She couldn't imagine what kind of life he could have been living.

"How long have you been alone?" She anxiously continued her questions.

"Close to eleven years I think. I've been losing track lately…" Hunter replied.

"How have you been able to survive? I mean, no one taught you how to catch your own food. What have you been living off of?" Edalyn hounded as she mindlessly leaned forward in her chair.

"I live off the rats and mice that come into the house." He admitted. "It's not a lot but it's been enough to get me this far."

Edalyn pulled back in disbelief. She placed her hand on her forehead as if to brace herself for some explosive emotion.

Hunter looked at her a little worried. He knew his situation wasn't ideal, but he had gotten so used to this lifestyle that now meeting someone who led a much more normal life than he did, he felt embarrassed. Edalyn seemed to notice his expression and sighed. She leaned forward in her chair, far enough that she could reach Hunter's hands with her own, and took them in hers.

"Hunter, I know you're probably used to living like this, but the fact of the matter is, it is not a normal way to live for a vampire." She began.

Hunter flushed at the gesture. It had been such a long time since he got any sort of familial affection. Getting it now was overwhelming.

"I know we've only just met, and you might not want me in your house, but I feel as though it is my obligation as your next of kin to be the one to look after you from now on." Edalyn continued.

She didn't know how hard she had to try to convince him to let her stay, if she even had to at all, but she still figured she'd give it some honest effort anyway. Even if he declined her care, she would just take care of him from afar, as best as she could. There was no way she was leaving this boy completely alone ever again.

Hunter didn’t respond at first. All of his emotions were slowly reaching a point. He had gotten so used to being alone, fending for himself. He had come to accept it as his way of life. But now with the prospect of a family member returning, offering the safety and care he had been needing for a long time, he slowly started realizing just how much he had been struggling. And he had tried so desperately to cling to the memory of his parents for any semblance of comfort, but they had been fading more and more from his mind.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized how truly grateful he was that someone had come into his life with the promise that she would care for him just as his parents did, and how much luckier he was that it happened to be a blood relative.

He tried to stifle his emotions in the time that these thoughts raced through his head, but it was hardly any use.

"Please stay." He finally choked out as he could no longer hold back.

His head suddenly fell forward onto the table and he began hysterically sobbing, his hands still locked with Edalyn's, tensing in hers. She instantly got up out of the chair that was seated across from him at the table and plopped herself in one right next to him. She then gently pried him off of the table and into her arms, letting her cloak drape over both of them. Hunter only clung to her as tightly as he could, burying his face in her chest as he cried.

"It's alright, it's alright." Edalyn spoke softly above Hunter's broken sobs.

She gently stroked his unkempt blond hair as she tightened the embrace, and let her own tears flow.

"I'm here to take care of you."

#toh #edalyn clawthorne #toh hunter #fanfic #still dont like this one but oh well you get it anyway #googy writing #love & hunger au

3 notes · View notes

detectivereads · 1 year ago

Text

Garlic and the Witch By Bree Paulsen

5/5

This post is for fan entertainment, I’m not being paid.

Woo! Sequel time for Garlic and the Vampire boy howdy this book had so many twists that I didn’t see coming. I remember when I saw the cover for the book, I was so happy that this got a 2nd book to the series.

When I saw the artwork for the cover I was captivated, the green stood out and when I saw Garlic holding a broom my mind went into overdrive, why did she have a broom and why was she was in the dark part of a forest.

**Spoilers**

When the book started off it showed Agnes before she made the helpers of the garden and where she got the idea of making them.

Later the book focus on Garlic, when she wakes up one morning, she has five fingers instead of 4 fingers like the other plant people and she is freaking out about the change, she shows her friend Carrot and they are shocked about it and tells her maybe she goes to Agnes, but Garlics went to the Count before she goes to Angus.

I love this book because it gave back stories on both Witch Angus and the Count. The Count sympathize with Garlic that change can be an unnerving thing to happen that we are never really prepare for it but we have to face it head on and make the best decisions that we can.

Agnes explains to Garlic that the spell she use can make veggies in to people and we get major spoilers here.

Going back to the Count, we learn that both him and Angus are trying to come up with a blood substitute for the count and the magic market should sell the plant that would help with this project. Garlic volunteers to go with Count to the magic market.

We do see Celery and much to my surprise he has mellowed out since the first book and wishes Garlic luck on her adventure.

This book is so whimsical I love it, its like being wrapped in a weighted blanket on a cold day. I love this book series and the ending of the book was too cute.

I look forward to future works by Bree Paulsen.

#books recommendations #book review #fantasy #cozy #spooky #witch #vampire #magic #fall season #halloween

0 notes

raytm · 10 months ago

Text

Naruto remembers ichiraku ramen’s eggs, marinated and gooey and the way it had always felt like a reward; jostling into the shop alongside sasuke, sakura and kakashi-sensei. it was a little reminiscent, looking at the eggs, then to the puckering packet of flour and the other ingredients sasuke had gathered. maybe, if he were fortunate, other mornings would transpire like this, an unhurried sort of respite where he found his gaze lingering a little too long on the chopsticks unifying salt and flour and the hands that held them. a pot had been set aside previously, filled with water and white vinegar and gently boiling, if he set his focus on the eggs, on the bubbles rising to the surface, he could reign in his thoughts and the ramen would taste so good it would have old man teuchi to shame ! tentatively, he placed the eggs into the water, casting a side - long glance at sasuke whose mouth was moving and words were definitely coming out of it. he nods, as if in solidarity. the broth, yeah - it would take the longest and something about pork belly. Abandoning the eggs he goes about searching for the pork belly, the fridge door casting his ruminative expression in subtle glow. it was good pork, the sort he would have balked at buying and left with a woefully empty frog wallet if he did get it. he spent a moment crouched there, looking at the pork in the way someone who was both starving and nostalgic might before shaking his head, forcing himself back to the present; this ramen wasn’t going to make itself ! “ yeah ... yeah, i got it ! ” he called. the pork, the chopping-board, the knife, all arranged ready to slice but when naruto reached for the knife’s hilt his finger’s brushed sasuke’s and a galvanic shock surged through him. part of him wanted to jerk away as if stung, the other wanted to remain steady, to rest their hands so close together as they cooked that they might brush again. “ so , uh the pork- ” sasuke’s eyes are affixed to the space there hands had occupied, regarding it with a silent scrutiny before disgorging water straight into the noodle bowl. he begins mixing, a honed concentration that naruto would do his best to replicate, tentatively slicing into the pork, only for the slices to come out uneven, some thick, others tenuous, the idea of them cooking evenly was now seeming unfeasible. Naruto’s brow furrowed, his tight knitted concentration reflecting in the knife’s discerning edge. he had to stay calm, it was like training - or - it was like, it was like. It’s a miracle that naruto catches sasuke’s lilt over the thrumming of his own pulse, eyes flicking up just as the knife catches in the board with a solid thwack. “ it’s not just for me ya know.” there was something about sharing a meal with sasuke, of the strenuous intention of cooking for someone else that wedge itself in between his ribs, that made his mind wander a little or his focus waver. “ we’re gonna share it - the both of us.” and he grins, the sort of obvious, almost ridiculous sentiment warmed him. “ but garlic is good, soy -” the knife, thankfully, was abandoned now and he was counting them off on his fingers before his eyes caught and settled on sasuke’s. “ how do you like your pork, sasuke ?” and it felt like the grazing of their hands, like the long, purposefully slow walks back to sasuke’s home, like being so close to something so profound he felt anticipation and consternation in tandem. “ i’ve tried heaps of ramen, ya know.” he laughs, a soft sound. “ i wanna know what yours tastes like.”

sasuke watches naruto bumble off towards the refrigerator, and that same gentle smile remains — IT SEEMS TO BE ONE THAT ONLY NARUTO IS CAPABLE OF PULLING OUT OF HIM, no matter how much he fights against it. damn it. he's already started pouring the ingredients he fetched into the first bowl he could find, stirring the flour and salt together with a pair of chopsticks. he loved to cook. “ i should have some pork belly in there too. we can get it started — and the broth. those will take the longest. ” he starts searching his mind for what they'd need, and notes them all down. garlic, onion, ginger, soy sauce, fish sauce, miso. this would be the best damn broth he'd ever make.

“ can you slice the pork belly for me? ” he asks, reaching for a glass of water to dump into the noodle bowl — but as he does, he accidentally touches naruto's hand. just a little touch, but it's enough to freeze him in his tracks. HIS HAND FLEXES, trying desperately to remember what he was reaching for. right. water. he clears his throat, moving slowly as he dumps the water into the bowl. SHIT. I ADDED TOO MUCH. as he reaches for more flour, his cheeks flush bright pink again ( as if they ever stopped! ) and he has to turn away for a moment, rubbing at his forehead before turning back to his bowl. once he gets the dough right, he turns to naruto, attempting to hide the flush and the smile, but he's unable.

by some miracle, he's able to get the dough out of the bowl, which he begins to knead. this would be a labor of love, something he'd only do for naruto, even if he didn't realize it yet. “ okay, we just need to let this rest for a little. how do you want the pork seasoned? this is for you after all. ” damn it. damn it. damn it. if naruto doesn't stop looking at him like that, he'd start messing up more. he reaches for a clove of garlic, preparing to squish it under his knife. “ are you done yet? ”

#ic. naruto.#I LITERALLY HAD TO GOOGLE RAMEN RECIPIES AND THEN STARED AT IT FOR TEN WHOLE MINUTES OKAY.#is this good idk is naruto in gay panic yes absolutely.#this whole moment is both precious and hilarious to me.#tags will one day be added <3

5 notes · View notes

hiraya-rawr · 2 years ago

Text

lover from another nation ~ hcs .

characters !! all the genshin men i could think of rn...

note !! it's been a while since i've written hcs for a lot! aaaah just some thoughts i had today (i had a few culture shocks here and there when i met up with new friends hahahah)

~ m o n d s t a d t ~

grabbing zhongli by the hand to dance and sing in the middle of the square because mondstadters live for the festivities! he quickly learns to freestyle dance along with you, moving with the crowd and cheers and wine. (remember that Tangled scene? yes)

kaveh wasn't sure how to react the day you ordered hard liquor on your first date. sure, your freedom and love for a good drink is one of the things which made him fall for you but wow– are you really gonna down that many glasses on a date? what do you mean you're still sober?

ayato finds himself in love with the way you sing. it doesn't follow the rules of inazuman opera at all; it's much more freeing (much like how his house help sings as he does chores) and you'd tell him stories and the history of your homeland in the form of songs. no mondstadter could ever forget the songs they grew up listening to!

heizou being almost appalled by your rather... robust and reckless nature. you don't have any backup plans whenever a situation goes south, you simply hold his hand, smile, and say "we go where the wind blows!"

~ l i y u e ~

diluc having chopsticks as part of your dining utensils because sometimes, you're more comfortable eating with it (let's not forget often having rice on the table! he must learn the joys of garlic rice with his steak <3)

dainsleif stays by your side as you offer incense and fruits to your ancestors. he whispers quiet prayers, bows when you do, and helps you clean their altars. he finds solace in the familial piety of liyuens– it makes him wish he could honor his ancestors with the same kind of peace as you do.

kazuha getting tongue tied over the language being so similar to inazuman but also so different– why are some of the characters the same? why are the meanings different? there's a bit of miscommunication in the start, but you both find your own ways to understand each other when words fail.

we all know gorou has always wanted to climb the mountains of liyue and you made it possible! meeting him by the docks and touring him around your home nation, you made sure to pick hiking routes with the most scenic spots, even managing to tour him around the jade palace and the floating lone island.

~ i n a z u m a ~

kaeya has no idea how you sit on the floor while being comfortable. you've made him sit with you once while reading a book, after that, his bones ached for days! shaking every time he stood back up!

albedo met you in the irodori festival- he painted you for practice and spark between you started. the long distance was difficult at first, but his long letters always had a little drawing of you and you'd send back the scent of cherry blossoms. klee would also send you letters, asking you to come visit soon!

childe loves a new fighting style; like most sword users in inazuma, you followed the raiden shogun's teachings– swift, efficient, and at one with the sword. he loves how you fight and it's often how you end your dates!

cyno was almost confident that you were playing a prank the day you said you'll make him your specialty and you showed him a platter of raw seafood. it's "sashimi and ngiri" you say, and he waited for you to explain the pun of your joke. it wasn't a joke.

~ s u m e r u ~

thoma is quite used to mondstadters and inazumans, two very different cultures, then he meets you and your sumeru upbringing! you show him how to cook foods that can be eaten with hands, and your menu is often so colorful he can't help but admire it!

itto doesn't really understand the study culture of sumeru, but he totally supports whatever it is you're talking about and tries to add in comments (his comments don't exactly make sense though...)

scaramouche, in his "path of redemption and healing", unwillingly gets involved with you as you show him around the beautiful parts of sumeru! you argue that he needs a different, better outfit with a color scheme that matches his vision. he insists that the hat stays. you tell him he looks like an aranara.

~ s n e z h n a y a ~

al haitham was almost concerned the day you got a heatstroke after being in the desert for no more than a few minutes. snezhnaya has prepared you for harsh weather, but never the heat. soon enough your lover is carrying around heatstroke-first aid packs just for you.

bundling up tighnari's fluffy ears before setting foot in snezhnaya because you just know the cold would practically freeze them off. his tail also gets wrapped and bundled warm in the large coats you wear, protection from the harsh snow. he says he looks like a big lummox.

note !! alright, choose your favorite dynamic! i personally think mondstadters with liyue/inazuma would be interesting maybe because i want to force feed them the joys of rice...

// if i misinterpreted a culture then umm... just know it wasn't intentional and let's consider it a real thing in teyvats culture 🫣😎

commissions || general m.list

taglist !! @absolut-wildflower @boundedbyfate @sadlonelybagel @eissaaaa @ladycoleigh @nejibot @milkypompon @bloodreaper08 @irethepotato @x-zho @roriver @mich-cola @mxsomn @ackrylik @nicebonescomrade @starforecasts @stygianoir @yuminako @eccedentesiast-sapphic @nebulaera @nuttytani @klutzkat @stygianoir14 @shizunxie @bluriie @aestellia @abyislan08

4K notes · View notes

ahundredtimesover · 3 years ago

Text

Fight for You (03) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: bodyguard!jk x heiress!reader; angst, smut (18+)

Chapter Warnings (series warnings in the masterlist!): foul language, mentions of toxic parents, child neglect, pregnancy difficulties, sexist themes, insecurities; alcohol consumption, unwanted advances in a club; unrequited feelings, rejection, angry jk and sad oc ☹️

Chapter Word count: 12.2k

Series Summary: Working at a private security agency has its perks. The downside? Being the personal bodyguard of spoiled, rich heiresses like you. But there are things that Jungkook didn’t expect, like rejecting you, falling for you, and realizing what he’d been missing all along.

A/N: Hi! Still on a little break and chapters will still be posted as scheduled. 😊 I’ve seen your feedback and messages and appreciate them all! And huge thank you to Ash @jimilter for this wonderful banner! 💞

Listen to: Don’t Blame Me and So It Goes by Taylor Swift

Series Masterlist || Previous | Next

It’s Tuesday when Jungkook sees you next, as you’d informed him that you’ll be skipping work on Monday and that he had the day-off since you’ll just spend it at home.

He takes advantage of his free day. He gets his groceries done, has his suits dry cleaned which thankfully, he has allowance for, tidies up his tiny apartment, and spends a good couple of hours at the gym with Jin, who’s glad that he doesn’t need to stay later than closing hours to accommodate his younger friend.

Jungkook enters the passenger seat and just like clockwork, you ask him how his weekend went.

“Good,” he replies. “I did some errands.”

Silence follows and he wonders if he’d just imagined responding to you until he turns to the backseat and sees your shocked face, eyes wide and lips slightly parted.

“Did you just answer my question?”

“You asked,” he shrugs, earning him a chuckle from Mr. Sim who’s just as surprised, knowing that Jungkook rarely indulges you.

“Yeah but I didn’t expect you’d actually say something.”

“Neither did I,” Jungkook shakes his head.

It’s when you spot the small smile on his face that you feel your heart skip a beat at a sight you’d only imagined you’d see, one you definitely want to see more of.

It’s easily another highlight of your week. Between your stay at Jeju and your birthday lunch at home, you’d like to think that you’re on your way to slowly melting the cold exterior of your beloved bodyguard.

You’ve seen him make sure you’re always shielded from the rain because of how quickly you get sick. You note how he makes sure you tell the server of your garlic allergy ever since that one time you forgot and you itched all through the night.

He didn’t resist your little gift of a blue suit for your birthday, and you didn’t miss the way he watched you intently during the party, especially when one of the guys got too near you.

Mr. Sim narrated how Jungkook had you in his arms the whole ride home after you were passed out drunk. It’s bittersweet how you don’t even remember it, knowing he was so close yet you also might’ve said some things in your sleep that you’d rather he didn’t hear.

It surprised you that he agreed to sleep over then and even had lunch at your place, sitting quietly as he enjoyed the food and greeting you happy birthday again before he left.

The piercing stare is still there but he’s dialed down the intensity quite a bit. And now, there’s a smile, albeit it being small and maybe unintentional, as he catches himself and the stoic expression quickly returns.

You want to comment that it’s a pretty smile and you hope he’d be more comfortable showing it but you keep the thoughts to yourself, basking in the effect it has on you.

The car stops as you arrive at your office building, and you put your arm out when Jungkook opens the door, waiting for him to take it and pull you out. He waits for you to exit and peeks in when you don’t move.

He cocks an eyebrow at your hand that’s waiting for his.

“Do you need help getting out of the car when you’re perfectly capable of doing so?”

“I’m still a little dizzy, Jeon,” you fake sounding weak. “Help me please?”

With your fluttering eyelashes and flirty smile - a sight he’s unfortunately used to - Jungkook sighs and takes your hand. He pulls you out and bows and you giggle at his action.

“May I remind you that you voluntarily carried me in your arms the other night,” you tease. “Helping me out of the car when I’m perfectly capable of doing so is nothing.”

“May I remind you that having no choice does not make it voluntary,” he retorts, as you slow your walk so you could match his pace. “It’s not like I could wheelchair you out of there when you’re drunk out of your ass.”

“Having an option doesn’t mean that you had no choice, then,” you cock an eyebrow this time. “Plus, that wasn’t even my worst.”

“That wasn’t your worst?” He exclaims.

“I didn’t puke on you, okay? That would’ve been so embarrassing.” You pout. “At least I didn’t drool or sleep talk.”

“Who said you didn’t?”

You feel the color drain from your face as you turn to him with a horrified look, hoping to the heavens that you didn’t actually do unattractive things while the man you’re attracted to was trying to keep you from humiliating yourself in front of others.

Jungkook catches himself before he laughs, knowing that would be a giveaway that he doesn’t dislike you as much as he used to. You’re still not his favorite person but he won’t lie and say that the past week didn’t change the way he thinks of you.

You’re clearly competent, as he’s aware enough of business personalities to know that not just anybody gets a deal with the Wongs and you secured one last week. You’re also not a snotty brat, given how you treat like family those who serve you, like Mrs. Hwang and Mr. Sim.

You’re also not that superficial, at least all the time, since during your birthday lunch, your conversations with Yoongi and Hoseok revolved around the state of music and arts education in the country. Jungkook was surprised to learn that day that you’ve been pushing your parents to launch a scholarship program in your family’s Foundation but that they don’t seem to take you seriously.

These all hit him in ways he didn’t expect, knowing that he came in this job with preconceived notions about who you are, which he realized are not completely accurate. But still, you’re his employer and client. Not being the rich, spoiled brat that he’s used to protecting still doesn’t mean that you could be friends and that he would ever consider giving in to your flirting attempts.

But you looking mortified at the thought of drooling and sleep talking in front of him is giving him a bit of satisfaction and entertainment.

You cover your face the same way you did when you found him in your house, clad in mermaid pajamas and bare-faced - far from how you’re used to presenting yourself to others.

“I’m so humiliated,” you whine, exiting the elevator and walking straight to your room.

He feels a little bad so he follows you. “I’m kidding. You didn’t drool, and you were only mumbling things. Nothing to blackmail you with.”

You scowl at him.

“It was pretty calming, actually,” Jungkook says, surprising himself.

“Not infuriating as I usually am?” You give him a smug, suddenly gaining confidence. “Are you slowly starting to enjoy my company?”

“I said nothing of that sort, Ms. Lee,” he says, using formalities when he wants to reinforce his boundaries with you. Or to annoy you, like now.

“Hmm, okay then,” you smile. “I can pretend you didn’t just say it felt calming to be with me.”

He wants to retort that you’re twisting his words but it’ll be another back and forth that he doesn’t want to have, as he’d given away too much already. So he playfully shakes his head and couldn’t help the second small smile he cracks today, and he’s thankful that just like earlier, you don’t say a thing.

It’s later in the week when your parents arrive from their weeks-long business trip and you all have dinner at a hotel.

As in usual meals out, Jungkook stands by in the private room with your parents’ security detail, and he notes the absence of any of your favorite food and even a cake to show that this is a birthday dinner that your parents are throwing for you.

“How was the party?” Your mother inquires. “Did the guests enjoy it? I heard Han-jae was there. His mother mentioned both of you hitting it off again.”

You bite back a gag at the thought of him pinning you against the wall and you’re glad you weren’t too drunk to let him take from you again. It’s safe to say you dislike the man, one you briefly dated before you left for London.

“They had fun,” you say blankly.

“And Han-jae?” Your mother asks.

“He was there,” you shrug, not wanting to share more.

“The Ims are an influential family, ___. Han-jae’s a prospect to consider for a partner,” your father says.

At this point, you’re used to it. They’re never subtle when it comes to pairing you off to other wealthy men, but while your mother is shameless about it, your father is a little more careful, perhaps the only time you’re ever thankful that he is. He talks about considering others as your partner but never pushing you towards them. “Just try,” he’d said before.

And you do, but you can easily tell when men try to date you for your wealth or for something sincere. And 9/10 times, it’s the former.

You’re not like your parents who have one’s social standing as the top qualification. And you’re the type of person who needs love; none of those you dated ever made you feel something close to that.

And you never understood how your parents couldn’t see it, that your family is powerful enough and would be better off on your own. Marrying someone from another powerful family may just make you more vulnerable to losing all that your parents worked hard to achieve. Those families they push you towards aren’t that clean or good either, so how would that help with your family’s image?

You know enough about people and how things work, but you also know enough how your parents think so you remain quiet and agree as what they expect you to.

“Okay,” you say.

You’re appeased once your father starts to discuss the deal with the Wongs and how good the terms were in the first place that got them to sign.

You hum in agreement, your face lighting up at the meeting that they’re calling to discuss the new deal - the one you convinced Mrs. Wong to consider - but it quickly falls once it’s clear that you’re not included.

You try not to act too upset, as you should’ve expected this, too, but still, you tell your parents what you discussed with her last week in Jeju. You’re satisfied that your father hums and seems to be pleased at everything that transpired, and you consider that enough of a win to get you through.

Jungkook picks up a bit of the discussion and could tell, based on your facial expressions as well, that it wasn’t a great dinner. It finally ends, with your parents greeting you a “happy birthday, by the way,” and saying that their gift has been wired to your bank account already.

You bow and make your way to the car. “Take me to the music store please, Mr. Sim.”

Jungkook stays outside as he’d done the first time, peeking inside to make sure you’re alright. Unlike before, it’s not out of concern for your well-being in the presence of your friends. It’s out of worry, as you lay on Yoongi’s lap while Hoseok sits on the floor facing you, wiping what seems to be tears falling down your face.

It’s been a few weeks since your party and since then, you’ve noticed the change in how Jungkook is around you. His look isn’t as intimidating anymore, and he’s had moments when he’d looked you in the eyes while you talked. He looks more relaxed, jaws no longer clenched and eyebrows not anymore perpetually scrunched, the usual stoic and cold expression he has now a little more, well, welcoming.

He still doesn’t respond to every single question you ask but he’s answered some, the ones that don’t reveal much about him but you take those as little wins. Your favorite part, though, are the moments he holds back a smile or a laugh that you cause, and you can’t deny the way your heart flutters whenever he does.

You reckon it’s not part of his image and you enjoy him cracking a little bit, especially when he purses his lips every time you get embarrassed or when you share to him and Mr. Sim some work accomplishment.

He’s still the same meticulous and serious bodyguard who assesses every place you go to, reprimands you for going to the same cafe three times in a row, and keeps a close watch during every event you go to.

You’d like to believe that he’s relieved that your attendance to parties has decreased, no thanks to your “friends” proving to you that they indeed don’t deserve such title, although the fashion shows and movie premieres and galas still continue. He doesn’t resist as much as he used to whenever you get him a new suit to fit the theme of an event, and you revel in the fact that he easily gives in to your requests now.

Jungkook, on the other hand, isn’t as thrilled as you are when it comes to the changes, as he mentally smacks himself every time he answers your questions on how his weekend was or if he’d eaten well or if he wants to take a rest. His smiles and laughter, which he mostly successfully bites back, come naturally. He still curses himself though, as he knows you notice.

“You’re going soft on her, yeah?” Jin has teased. “By the way you talked about her, she never seemed terrible. That was all you.”

Jungkook would usually counter this but he felt he’d be lying if he did. You’re a lot of good things, he’d give you that, and being alone with you is no longer the most terrible thing for him.

It’s why when he got the call that he would have to drive you on a Sunday because Mr. Sim had a family emergency, Jungkook didn’t feel like cursing his own existence.

He goes to your house as instructed and is met with a surprised look on your face. You’re dressed in jeans and a printed shirt, perhaps the simplest you’ve looked since that morning after your party.

“Oh, Mr. Han called you,” you say. “I told him to get someone else to drive for me because it’s your day-off.”

“Everyone’s on assignment because your uncles are here,” Jungkook explains. “It’s fine, really. I don’t have anything important to do.”

“Okay, then. I would’ve rescheduled but I miss them already,” you say as you walk to the car with him.

“Them?”

“The kids,” you smile.

It’s an orphanage on the outskirts of Seoul, you tell Jungkook, one you visit every Sunday when it’s his day off, hence why he’d never been there before.

You’d learned about this place because Mr. Sim and his wife adopted their children from there, a lovely brother and sister pair you’d met only a handful of times but know so much about because you enjoy your chauffeur’s stories about them.

Your curious attitude and knack for learning about people you’re surrounded with is how you found out about this bit about Mr. Sim’s family, and it’s why a few times when you were younger, you’d had him take you with him whenever he visited, as his children often asked him to say hi to the friends they met there who unfortunately had not been adopted.

It was sometime in college when you started going there regularly just to spend time with the kids. They have such joy and innocence about them, something you wish you had when you were a child. Being there always gives you a sense of warmth because it’s something you didn’t really receive growing up from your own parents, and these children need them, and it’s something you can give.

You’d play with them, feed them, teach them, and help the staff clean up. You bring clothes, food, and toys as well. You’ve also brought Yoongi and Hoseok there a few times to teach the kids how to play instruments.

The children love being around people, too. When you were away, you made sure to video call them so they’ll know that they haven’t been forgotten.

There’s been a surge of newborns and toddlers coming in the past weeks and you decided to buy some blankets and toys for them, all of which are in the trunk and ready to be turned over to the staff.

“Hi, Ina,” you greet the woman who answers the door. “I bought a few things for the kids.”

She turns to your side to find a stack of 4 boxes. “That’s a few?” She giggles. “Come on in.”

Jungkook watches you embrace the woman and do the same with the rest of the staff who come to greet you.

You introduce him to them and Jungkook bows, familiarizing himself with everyone in this place.

“So, are you two just friends or?” One of them asks.

Jungkook’s eyes widen in horror, which you catch and laugh at.

“Oh, no. He’s my bodyguard, actually,” you correct.

“Ahh. I’m sorry for assuming. We’ve just never seen him before and he looks much younger than your previous ones.”

“Yes, and remember how the kids used to be scared of them?” You giggle.

The staff laugh along, recalling the times when the children would hide behind you when they see “the man in the suit who’s not smiling.” Those older ones always insisted on accompanying you inside and you couldn’t really reprimand them for looking so cold and rigid in front of the kids so you had to make up some story that the man is there to scare the monsters away.

You turn to Jungkook who’s slightly smiling as the staff tell the stories of how even they would get slightly uncomfortable. They look at Jungkook, clad in jeans and a light grey sweatshirt, looking nothing like the intimidating bodyguards you had before with his features that are soft but strong at the same time.

“I hope he’s okay to help out?” One of them asks. “Some of our volunteers cancelled. And I doubt the kids would be scared of him.”

Jungkook nods in agreement. It’s definitely because the stories you shared of the kids tugged at his heartstrings, and not at all because of how you looked, with puppy dog eyes and a hopeful smile silently asking him to say yes.

“They’re shy at first but they’ll warm up to you eventually,” Ina says. “They’re just finishing their lunch so we can head to the newborn wing first.”

Jungkook has never been to an orphanage. None of the clients he detailed ever did so he doesn’t really know what to expect. He gets a half hour orientation, though, as the staff tell him the do’s and don'ts of being with the children, surprised when he’s taught how to hold the babies.

He enters the newborn wing and finds you there with a baby in your arms, swaying as you smile at the little human.

Ina taps him and guides him as he takes the baby in his arms. “We’re usually short on staff on Sundays and these littles ones need to be held, you know? It’s why she always comes here,” Ina says, referring to you.

He nods and follows suit.

And that’s how you both spend a good part of your afternoon - taking babies in your arms, holding them close, gently massaging their limbs, and humming to them.

Jungkook looks to you for guidance, and you nod in approval of what he does. He doesn’t sing though, the way you do, but he rubs circles around the baby’s back, allowing himself to close his eyes when he feels the slightest grip in return.

You do this like you’ve been doing it for years and you probably have been, Jungkook thinks. There’s calmness and warmth in your face and your body language. You hold them like you’re telling them a story, like you’re telling them that they’re loved.

Some time after, you and Jungkook are led to a playroom with about 20 children who can’t be older than 7 years old. You tell him to stay by the door first and wait for the kids to be comfortable around him.

He nods and watches you hug those who hug you. You engage with them so naturally, your smile not fading at all. You read them a book, help them in the slide, and build blocks with them. You’ve never looked so happy.

It’s not long after when a little boy runs to Jungkook, tugging at his arm and pointing at a train set that’s on top of a shelf. He follows the boy and brings down the toy, proceeding to help in setting it up. Pretty soon he finds himself playing, too, with a few more kids joining in, until one of them asks to be carried and Jungkook just couldn’t say no.

It’s the clapping that catches your attention, as you find Jungkook lifting a kid and a whole line of them before him so they could reach up and shoot the basketball on the ring.

“He’s pretty cute,” Ina whispers from next to you. “I wouldn’t have thought of him as your bodyguard at all although he constantly looks at you,” she hums. “Does he think the kids are a threat?”

You snort. “He takes this job seriously and thinks everybody and everything is a threat so he’s constantly on his toes,” you shrug. “It used to be intimidating but now…” It’s comforting and assuring, you don’t say.

“Well, the kids for once are not intimidated by your bodyguard,” Ina laughs. “Looks like they’re having fun there with him.”

Jungkook now doesn’t have a reason to bite back a smile or a laugh, as they’re not because of you, hence why they’re on full display right now. He’s clapping and cheering with them, teaching them fancy ways to shoot a ball, and high fives them every time. His boyish charms are shining through, with his smile quite blinding and his laughter so playful, and you find yourself wanting to hear more. But this will do. He’s never looked so happy.

It’s a lot of squealing and laughter, something that Jungkook isn’t used to. These aren’t sounds he grew up hearing. Nor making. He never experienced having toys this pretty and stimulating. He never knew what it felt like to be given affection growing up, doesn’t know what it’s like to be cheered on and applauded, to share laughter and smiles with an adult.

He’s also never been lovingly tucked in bed, the way you two are doing now for the kids’ afternoon naps.

With an alcoholic father and a mother making ends meet, Jungkook never experienced these things.

He takes this experience with him, hanging onto that moment of feeling wanted by the children themselves and them being wanted back, something that he could make them feel, even for just a short while.

The time feels like it passed too quickly, as you both help sort out some toys while the kids napped, and then you tell the staff that you’re almost done with the fundraising plan you offered to make for them so they could get more sponsors.

You sigh at the mention of your parents still warming to the idea of getting some of the older children the orphanage helps with scholarship support, but the staff tell you that it’s okay, that they all know how hard you work for them and the kids.

It’s goodbyes not long after, as the little ones need to be prepared for dinner then storytelling before bed.

“There’s a family-run restaurant nearby,” you break the short silence in the car. “Please take me there for dinner.”

It’s a small place with small tables and Jungkook immediately assesses the surroundings, prompting you to laugh at him again.

“Just doing my job,” he scrunches his eyebrows.

“Okay, Jeon,” you smirk. “So, what do you want to have for dinner?”

“Uh, well…” His eyes flit from the small distance between you two, to the menu on the wall, to the car outside, unsure how to handle this situation, as he’d never really shared a meal with you alone, always having Mr. Sim around to not break any sort of boundary that’s been set.

“Still uncomfortable? Well, it’s fine, although your grumbling tummy might think otherwise,” you smile. “You still have to drop me off then commute home. I’m sure the kids drained your energy and you need to eat.”

There’s no teasing tone to your voice, just concern. So he says he’s fine to have dinner with you, to your surprise.

You fumble with your phone while he aggressively shakes his leg, as you both sit on the tiny stools across from each other in this tiny table. Jungkook feels it’s more awkward to just sit in silence so he decides to break it.

“You felt really at home there,” he says.

You break into a smile. “I did. I do, every time, actually. The kids have so much energy and innocence about them even if they’re not in an ideal situation,” you sigh. “They just want simple things, you know? They just want to be cared for and loved.”

“Doesn’t everybody want that?”

If you’re caught off guard with the way Jungkook responded, you don’t act like it.

You nod. “It’s different with children though. They end up yearning for it their entire lives if they don’t get enough of it when they’re young. They search for it in other things only to find out that it’s not what they’re looking for.”

“You seem to know children well, huh?” Jungkook presses, unsure why he’s putting himself in this position of letting you be vulnerable with him.

You shrug. That’s one way of putting it, but there’s also something more. “I know what it’s like to not be wanted.”

Before his mind goes to what he’s witnessed and heard about your friends and ex-boyfriends, you share something that you haven’t really thought about in a long time.

“My parents had a hard time conceiving,” you say. “It was an even tougher pregnancy that put my mother’s life at risk and she was told that the next time might be even more dangerous and uh,” you stammer.

“I came out, a girl, who’s supposed to be the heir of the company.” You let out a bitter laugh. “Who’d want that, right? Their only child is a girl and they couldn’t even try to have more. I’m all they could have and there’s nothing they could do about it.”

Jungkook knows enough what this means, not oblivious to the ways of society that places men above women, their sex the mere determinant of their capabilities and what they could contribute, of what they could be.

He’s seen the difference in how his clients treated their sons from their daughters, how they mentored the former yet sought to correct and police the latter. He witnessed how the sons were presented - all their achievements laid out for outsiders to be impressed with, while the daughters were presented based on their physical beauty and level of submission and meekness.

“Sometimes I wish I was just born a boy, you know? Maybe my parents would be happier, prouder.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond, mindlessly twirling the noodles in his bowl.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be such a downer,” you say.

He shakes his head to say it’s okay.

“My mother left when I was 9, and my father’s not all that great,” Jungkook shares.

He knows the strength it takes to be open about something so hurtful, and something about today - being with the kids and seeing you interact with them - makes him want to let you know that he understands that pain, too.

“I’m sorry, Jungkook.”

It’s the first time he’s ever heard you call him by his first name, and he senses your sincerity. They’re words he’d only heard once from his mother, when she whispered it in his ears the morning she left. They’re words he’d never heard from his father, though.

“Don’t worry about it, that was a long time ago. And I don’t really blame her.”

There are words you want to say to comfort him but you know they won’t be enough; you’re unsure if they’ll be welcome anyway, so you settle for a smile, one that lets him know that you understand and that you admire his strength for pushing forward.

It’s a rare moment you share, as he returns your smile and suddenly, you forget how to breathe. His eyes look tender as they hold your gaze, his lips turned up to show you how he looks when he doesn’t hold himself back.

Your heart quickens its beats, not used to this kind of response when all Jungkook did was smile at you, laugh when your soup splattered on your shirt because of how surprised you were, then proceed to ask the server for tissue to help you clean up.

You almost mess your shirt up again when your phone rings, pulling you out of the little bubble you created with your moment with Jungkook, immediately frowning to see your father calling, knowing it’s most likely about work.

A sigh leaves your lips when the call ends, mixed feelings of excitement and disappointment resurfacing.

“I have to leave for Jeju in the morning to attend his meeting with Mrs. Wong about the new deal,” you inform Jungkook. “Our flight is booked already.”

“Isn’t that a good thing? I mean, you initiated that, right?”

You nod. “They were together at an event today and she said that she’s excited to see me again to discuss the deal. But Father didn’t even ask me to come. He’s only asking now because she asked about me.”

“Well, then get on that plane tomorrow, attend the meeting, and do what you did the first time.”

“Which is?”

“Impress her.”

With Mr. Sim still tending to his family, Jungkook picks you up to go to the airport and leaves the car, as it would only be a day trip. You have that concert you promised your best friends you’ll accompany them to so you couldn’t extend another day. Much as you’d like to spend more time with your bodyguard, given that he’s been enjoying your company recently, you can’t miss time with Yoongi and Hoseok, too.

Jungkook looks at you from the Starbucks counter where you asked him to order breakfast for you both while you stay in your seat, poring over some files you wanted to review before meeting with your father and then with Mrs. Wong.

You’re nervous, Jungkook can tell by the way you’re biting your lip and twirling then pulling the ends of your hair, something he picked up the many times he’d seen you prepare for meetings like this. He chuckles to himself at how your cheekiness takes a backseat during these moments, as you’ve barely said much to him since you entered the car.

He places your drink in front of you and you mindlessly take it for a sip.

“Jeon, you got me juice?” You glare at him. “I asked for iced coffee.”

He takes a seat in front of you and sips on his iced coffee, something you’ve convinced him to try some time ago and which he now enjoys.

“You had coffee earlier. You’re surely gonna have coffee during breakfast with your father, and probably have it again during your meeting. That’s 4 cups in less than half a day if I got you one,” he says, matter-of-factly. “You don’t want to be shaking nor palpitating while you meet with Mrs. Wong, now do you?”

You cross your arms and cock an eyebrow. “Worried about me, Jeon?”

“It seems really important to you and it would help if you’re at your best.”

He’s the one nervous now, as he doesn’t want you to think he means more. He sees you stress over these things, and caffeine doesn’t help with the nerves. He also knows he’ll be dealing with somber, quiet you if things don’t go well and he honestly doesn’t know how to deal with that version of you, knowing you’ll need comfort but it’s not something he knows how to give.

“Fair point.” You bat your eyelashes. “I’ll take that as your way of saying you’re worried about me.”

He chuckles. “Believe what you want, then. I’m just here to enjoy my drink.”

The morning passed by quickly, as you chose to zone out during the flight to calm your nerves, glad that Jungkook insisted on giving you juice rather than coffee. The breakfast with your father was at least bearable, as he discussed things you’d already read about.

You arrive at the hotel to meet with Mrs. Wong where you’re joined by your father and two other directors whom you didn’t know would be there.

As you’d come to expect when your presence is requested in meetings like this, they direct the discussion and drop your name when necessary, making you wonder why you’d even attended in the first place.

Anytime you attempt to open your mouth, someone else always has something to say. You give up halfway through and just lay back and nod at everything being said, confirming that you’d said something when you really didn’t. You should be used to this, but it doesn’t make it any less tiring nor disappointing.

Jungkook stands by the wall, eyes settled on you after he’s made his round of venue assessment. He doesn’t miss the way your smile slowly loses its excitement, going dry and dry until it’s forced, just waiting for this to be over.

The meeting ends and you immediately excuse yourself to go back to the car for a detour before heading to the airport.

Jungkook is tailing you but it’s the clacking of heels that catches your attention.

“___,” Mrs. Wong calls out. “I didn’t get to properly say goodbye. It was so great to see you again.”

You return her hug. “It was great seeing you, too,” you smile genuinely.

“I’m sorry.” She looks at you with somber but encouraging eyes and no other words need to be said.

“Hang in there, okay?”

“I will,” you say softly, giving her one last hug before you enter the car.

The wind is cool and the waves are crashing pretty hard on the shore. Perhaps they sound like what’s going on in your mind right now.

You’re about to sit on the sand when you hear Jungkook say your name. You turn to see him walking towards you with a beach towel in hand. He spreads it nicely and gestures for you to sit on it, saying that you can’t mess up your clothes because you still have a meeting to attend when you land back in Seoul.

You thank him and sit down with your legs propped up close to your chest. He awkwardly stands on the corner of the towel before he finally decides to sit next to you, a clear distance away.

“You really like the ocean, huh?” He asks after some time.

“Why, don’t you?”

“Well, I can think of many other things I’d rather stare at than, uh, water,” he chuckles, a sound you’re hearing more and more.

“Says the guy who grew up in a port city,” you laugh. “How could you not love the sea? It’s so calming.”

“It makes me feel small and powerless, that’s all,” he sighs. “It’s like you lose all control when you’re out there; your life’s dependent on the whims of the sea.”

“Funny. I don’t think I’ve felt more free than when I’m in the water.”

“Is that why you love mermaids so much?”

You light up at the thought that it’s something he’s taken note of and your cheeks warm at this.

He playfully rolls his eyes and lifts your hand off the ground to remind you of the bracelet with a variety of sapphire and diamond mermaid pendants you wear everyday.

“Oh, right,” you giggle and turn back at the water.

“Why do you love mermaids so much?”

“They’re enchanting. And independent and strong and capable. And out there in the water, they just… belong.”

Jungkook glances at you and sees the sullen look in your eyes, taking him back to what he witnessed earlier at the meeting and how you had that downcast look as you stared out the window in the car.

He hates to admit it but it’s something he can relate with, given how his father always told him that he wouldn’t amount to anything. It’s what pushed him to work right after high school, taking whatever dignified job he could that would allow him to earn money and be something, anything, that’s nothing like his father. And what his father is, is someone who takes and takes from others with nothing to give.

“Your parents don’t seem to trust in your capabilities all that much,” Jungkook says, somehow feeling bad for intruding but your nod tells him that you agree. “Other people also seem to think you’re just a pretty face with the wealth to back it up. You’re so much more than what you’re perceived to be.”

“I know,” you sigh.

“Then why continue letting them think so? You work hard but rarely get the credit for it. It doesn’t seem fair.”

“What about life is fair?” You shrug. “I don’t have the right to complain. I’ve always had everything I needed in life. Sometimes I think it’s okay that they underestimate me, that way I can surprise them but it’s not really that simple. It’s easier for people to look at me, at my name, and make assumptions.”

You think about this more than you care to admit. You know what people think about you. You’ve heard enough washroom gossip and overheard enough conversations to understand your worth to people, which really isn’t much, unless it’s about money.

“I don’t really know how to change their minds even if I wanted to. I never figured it out, actually. I just never knew how to fight those things.”

“Why not try?” Jungkook wonders.

Fighting for himself is what he’s done his whole life. Unlike you, he wasn’t born privileged and he had to fight for his spot in this world so he could be something more than his father, more than his playmates and neighbors back home who’d joined gangs or just gave up. Life isn’t easy and he has to constantly claim things that aren’t meant for people like him.

“I realized that I'd rather fight for others than fight for myself. I don’t know why,” you say.

There’s a beat of silence before you continue. “Or maybe I do. Maybe it’s because no one’s ever done it for me.”

People take what they can from you then leave you out to dry.

Jungkook tries not to think of the irony of things - two completely different people feeling that same powerlessness, that same desperation, that same feeling of being trapped.

“I got you speechless again, didn’t I?” You smirk.

“Nah, I just reached my quota of talking, that’s all.”

You laugh. “Don’t think I missed you calling me pretty, Jeon. I’m quite flattered.”

“I don’t think I said anything like that,” he deadpans, standing up then putting his hand out for you to hold as you lift yourself up.

“Hmm, I must’ve misheard it then.”

Your smile is a soft one, and Jungkook is glad you don’t push it.

“So I’m guessing your bodyguard’s change in relationship with you extends to us, too?” Yoongi snickers, as he eyes Jungkook seated at a nearby table in the restaurant you’re at for a late dinner after the concert. “He isn’t glaring at us as if we’re gonna abduct you or something like he used to.”

“A change in relationship?” Hoseok whips his head. “Are you and your bodyguard dating?”

“No, of course not,” you frown at your friends.

“But you wish you wish you were,” Yoongi cocks his eyebrow. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you constantly glancing at him earlier, and not with your usual flirty smile like before.”

“Hmm, come to think of it, you talk about him less,” Hoseok pipes in. “At least, you don’t squeal anymore that his biceps are so formed you wanna lick them or like, that you want to rip off his buttons that are fighting for dear life so you could—“

“Alright, that’s enough,” you scowl at him while your hand covers his mouth, hoping to the heavens that Jungkook didn’t hear the way you thirst for him, no thanks to your supposed best friend who’s basically outing you right now.

“But doesn’t that mean I’m getting him off my system?” You retort.

“No, that just means you’re past lusting over him and are actually, genuinely liking him,” Yoongi says. “Which, honestly, hasn’t happened in years.”

If there’s anyone who’d know what you’re like when you like someone, it’s your best friends. Sin-young had been the only one who cared about you and you, him. It felt real, until the outside world got too noisy and neither of you could keep up. The others had been flings or some PR stunt or some shallow relationship you had to appease your mother. No one else made you feel or want more; or rather, no one really wanted more with you.

You sigh, knowing there’s really no way you could hide from Yoongi and Hoseok, especially since they’re not wrong.

You’ve gone from checking out Jungkook’s sculpted body dressed in his slick suits to focusing on his sweet smile and the way his voice calms you when he calls your name.

You find yourself looking at him when you’re anxious and thinking that after whatever meeting you’re in, you’ll be close to him and you’ll feel better.

You start to wonder, during those times he pulls you up or out of the car, how perfectly his rough hand would fit against yours, and how it would feel to have his arm around you, with his perfect, obsidian eyes looking back at you.

“You think he’ll like me back?” You ask, after Jungkook excuses himself to go to the washroom.

Hoseok caresses your cheek and you feel warmth immediately. “Well, I don’t know much about him but all I know is, he’d be a fool not to.”

Having Jungkook as your bodyguard for the past few months where you’re with him 6 times a week means you get to see him in a variety of outfits.

He’s effortlessly handsome in his casual clothes, whether he’s wearing his favored black sweatshirt or a plain round neck under a dark jacket. The times you’ve seen him in pajamas are the closest you can get to imagining what he’s like in his normal life when he’s not protecting or tailing you.

Your favorite, though, is still when he’s in uniform - black suit over a crisp white polo, thin necktie, and skinnier-than-normal slacks because for some reason, he says he moves better in it and you’re not complaining. With his short hair that highlights his sharp jawline, he looks so clean and incredibly sexy, especially with the serious look he still sports when he’s around you.

He’s accompanied you to many events, with him needing a fancier suit, and while you made sure to give him the best for your birthday, perhaps his look tonight overtakes that.

Your family organized tonight’s all-white gala, and for once, you’re actually glad that your mother went all out, ensuring that each and every staff member working for the Lee’s is impeccably dressed and within theme. That includes your bodyguard.

“___,” he says your name again, perhaps the third or tenth time. “Do you plan on getting in the car, or what? We’re gonna be late.”

You stand by your house’s entrance, with Jungkook waiting outside to accompany you to the car. The lighting is enough to give you the view that would haunt and grace your dreams for nights on end.

His polo’s material is thinner than usual - from where you’re standing, you can make out his toned torso and narrow waist that’s accentuated by a thin belt. His suit and slacks are simple but form-fitting, you wonder if he’s able to probably move in them. But you’re also not complaining. His hair parted to the side completes his crisp look and you won’t be surprised if guests mistake him for a celebrity or some social elite they’ve never heard of before.

Your eyelashes are fluttering and you think he’s used to you checking him out every time. But unlike before, he doesn’t say anything. For the first time, he looks kind of shy.

“Oh my, ___.” Mr. Sim appears, decked in an all-white ensemble as well. “You look absolutely stunning. Doesn’t she, Jungkook?”

Your eyes widen and you start to feel hot, suddenly anxious, worried about Jungkook’s passiveness that you already expect.

He looks back at you, appreciating the simplicity of your satin, deep v-neck mermaid white gown, although the blinding diamond jewelry adorning your ears and your wrists still scream ‘heiress.’ He's a man who acknowledges beauty when he sees it, and he has to admit that you embody that tonight.

“She does,” he softly replies.

You feel your heart leap out of your chest and you want to run back inside just to calm yourself down. But Mrs. Hwang appears and holds you steady.

“Go on now, darling. The guests are waiting for you.”

You enter the car and admire Jungkook from the back seat, the image of him from earlier still imprinted in your mind. You didn’t think of ripping his polo off or doing the other not-so-professional things you used to. You simply wanted to lay on his chest, his strong arms holding you, making you feel what he’s always made you feel - safe.

As he opens the car door and takes your hand, you feel a jolt of electricity and you’re suddenly unable to look at him, afraid of what you won’t find when you do.

You like him. And all you could hope for is that he feels the same way.

As hosts of the event, your parents didn’t push for you to have a date, since they wouldn’t want him to feel neglected as you entertain guests and accommodate whatever their requests are. It’s the same reason why you didn’t ask for your best friends to attend, much as you need them to keep you sane.

It’s a lonely feeling, walking to the hotel entrance and into the ballroom hall, seeing familiar faces and people you know but not knowing them.

You greet the guests as you should, take their compliments and compliment them back. You drop brand names and high-end designers, act engrossed in all the luxury talk, and bow and give your thanks and wish they enjoy the party.

All the while, Jungkook stays close, eyes scanning the room and the guests, looking for something that seems off. The only thing that does is you.

After seeing you at your birthday lunch in your house and at the orphanage, he can now tell what your genuine smile is like. It’s warm yet sweet; it reaches your eyes that sparkle like stars and it’s comforting, as if all your attention is on the person you’re smiling at.

There’s none of that here, and he can now tell that the one you have on is what you show to the rest of the world, of this world that tries to temper your shine. It’s a face you put on, as if saying that you’re part of this world but you know you don’t belong here. You’re not happy here.

He knows this. He’s seen your genuine smile, because he realizes now that more than once, it’s been directed at him.

Whatever energy you have for putting on a brave face drains a little, as Jungkook sees you approach a group of individuals, the same ones at your party. He hears the cheers as you arrive, the women hugging you tightly, so do the men who seem to one-up each other on who can place their hand on your waist the lowest.

He doesn’t miss the way their eyes constantly flit to your chest and how your body language screams discomfort to someone who’s not familiar with your every move. But Jungkook is.

“Ms. Lee,” he says, catching your attention as your eyes have been flitting to him, too. “Your parents are asking for you.”

“Oh, okay!” You smile, disentangling yourself from Lia’s arm. You excuse yourself and affirm that you’ll be attending the after-party at the rooftop bar later.

You walk several steps before turning to Jungkook. “My parents aren’t here yet.”

“I know, but I just thought you needed a break.”

You breathe a sigh of relief.

“There’s a waiting room out back, you can stay there first if you want.”

You nod and follow him, knowing he’s scoped out this place already. You enter a room with seating and dining areas, and you find comfort on a couch as Jungkook places a glass of water on the coffee table.

“You okay?” He asks.

“Yeah, just… A bit overwhelmed I guess. I haven’t attended a gala we hosted in years and I forgot how tiring they are.”

“That’s a whole lot of guests to greet on your own.”

“My parents like having a grand entrance,” you shrug. “But I should get back out there.”

“Okay, but this room is here if you need it. Just let me know,” he says, walking you to the door.

You nod in reply. “Thank you,” you turn to him, your eyes meeting his, and somehow, you don’t feel so lonely anymore.

You count the hours until the end of the party, never really understanding the reason why it drags for as long as it does, as if there’s not enough time for people to flaunt their wealth and see how many more events like this they can get invited to.

But you can already hear your mother’s voice in your head, reminding you of the value of people wanting to be part of your family’s social circle, of acknowledging your influence like this, and how you should encapsulate someone worth admiring and respecting. You smile through it, finding no energy within you to counter her, even if you know you won’t get to convey what you really feel.

You believe that there’s more to admire and respect about a person than their wealth, but you let it tie you down, afraid to stand up for yourself because you’ve never done it before. So you smile and laugh, act the way your mother instructed you to, and find the only real bright light in this dazzling room - Jungkook.

His eyes continue to scan the room but when they meet yours, he holds your gaze, mouthing are you okay and nodding when you smile. Your heart speeds and yet slows down at the same time, allowing you to breathe a little and feel comfort in a sea of people who’ll never really know you, understand you, nor care for you.

With Jungkook looking out for you, you start to feel that in this sea of people, there may be one who does.

Exiting the waiting room that you turned into a dressing room for a change of outfit, you meet Jungkook outside. You spent more time than necessary fixing yourself, hoping that your embroidered mini dress will hold Jungkook’s attention.

You can’t read his reaction as you enter the elevator, but you feel his warm breath on your neck when you exit. “Be careful, okay? I’ll just be around.”

It sends tingles down your spine and you turn around to assure him. “There won’t be a repeat of my party, I promise.”

“You’re free to enjoy yourself, ___,” he smiles.

He parts ways with you when you enter the rooftop bar and you catch the soda he asks the bartender to pour on a glass, his usual attempt at blending in. You engage with the crowd, finding your group and taking shots, dancing to the music, and laughing along as if this doesn’t feel like deja vu.

You’re more aware now, though, and the only way you get to manage is by looking for Jungkook. There’s a pang in your chest every time a woman approaches him, getting too close and touching his arm. You breathe a sigh of relief every time she’s turned away, with him looking around to look for you, too, releasing a breath whenever he spots you.

Jungkook is more on edge this time, as he can’t let the same thing happen during your party where he lost you for a bit and expected your so-called friends to look out for you during the 4 minutes that he couldn’t. He sticks to one can of soda and switches spots whenever you do, making sure he doesn’t lose sight of you and sighing in relief when he finds you again.

It’s during one of your trips to the bar when he notices a man - the same one who was wandering in your circle and even offered you a drink earlier, which you thankfully declined - standing too close to you, causing you to jerk in surprise as he touches your elbow.

It raises alarm bells in Jungkook’s head, given the man’s unfamiliarity and multiple attempts at trying to catch your attention.

You engage in conversation, Jungkook notices, knowing you’re not one to outwardly turn down such efforts. Your body language says you’re not interested though, as you merely nod and smile and constantly turn your head to find someone, perhaps him.

The man follows you closely as you walk towards your group, whispering things in your ear that you try to avoid. You start to shake your head and keep your distance but the man doesn’t go away. Jungkook sees the slight panic in your face, prompting him to fight his way through the crowd to get to you.

It’s when the man snakes his arm around your waist and pulls you close that Jungkook sees you visibly freeze.

“Hey, what are you doing with my girlfriend?” Jungkook asks the man.

You look up at Jungkook with glassy eyes and a sigh of relief.

“This is your girlfriend?” The man responds, promptly letting you go.

“Yeah, she is,” Jungkook returns, placing his hand on your waist and guiding you towards him.

“Oh, sorry. She didn’t say she has a boyfriend.”

“She doesn’t need to. She doesn’t seem interested, does she?”

“She’s hot, thought I’d take my chance and maybe get some.” The man shrugs. “Should’ve known someone’s already doing that.”

You feel Jungkook hold his breath and clench his jaw, perhaps holding himself back and you’re thankful he doesn’t say more or attempt to make a scene.

The man grunts and leaves and you turn to Jungkook.

“I kept saying I didn’t want a drink and that I was going back to my friends. I didn’t mean to—“

“Hey, hey. It doesn’t matter,” Jungkook holds your gaze. “You didn’t say yes and you looked uncomfortable. He shouldn’t have pushed it.”

You nod, suddenly feeling a mix of embarrassment, anxiety, and tiredness. You shift and rest your head on his chest, and you feel his hold on your waist tighten.

“You’re okay. I’m here,” he whispers.

You look at him to catch a breath and he looks right back at you, his piercing gaze expressing his worry, his concern. His care.

“Let’s get you home, okay?”

You nod and let him put his coat over you. You both walk to the lobby with his arm around your shoulder, keeping you steady as you recover from the alcohol and from what just happened. He takes a seat next to you in the car, letting your head rest on his shoulder, and there are no more words spoken until he walks you to your door and bids you goodbye and goodnight.

It takes you a few days to recover from what happened, from the way Jungkook looked and the way he looked at you. It was the first time you were so close to him - sober, at least - and you felt comforted and safe, not just from whatever danger is out there but even from your own thoughts.

He made you feel something. You felt that you made him feel something. It’s this thought that plagues your mind for the rest of the week as you go to work, attend your meetings, and have your social dinners, all while having Jungkook near you, doing what he’s always done.

It becomes harder to keep what you feel inside the more you think about that night and how it felt being close to him. Every day for the next week, you find yourself thinking about him more than usual, wondering if he’s eaten and if he got some rest.

You search for him in the restaurant and hope that he’s next to you instead. You look at him from the backseat of the car and wish he’s next to you, comforting you as another day ends, telling you that whatever worries you have will pass.

You want so badly to just hold his hand and kiss him, feel him in ways that you know will leave you satisfied. It’s why you make the decision to swallow your pride and tell him.

[To: Jeon 🤖] I’ll just be home tomorrow but come over around 6. I need help with something.

Jungkook has spent a variety of Saturdays detailing you as you go shopping, get pampered, go on events, or be with your best friends. It’s rare that he’s not with you during the day, but you texted him last night after you’d gone home from a movie premiere that you only need him to go to your place in the evening.

Of all days, he wishes he was detailing you instead. That way, he wouldn’t have lazed in bed in the afternoon after a full-morning workout, looked through his social media that he only ever uses to check out his clients’ social circle, and seen Soo-ah’s post with another man on a boat trip in Busan.

Busy at work, states the photo caption, which clearly has a double meaning, based on how wide her smile is and the way the man has his arm around her waist.

She looks happy and it’s the look she used to have on as a teenager with Jungkook when they’d bike through alleyways and explore rundown buildings back home and imagined a future life where they had the money to build a life together. She talked about a house by the ocean with a nice kitchen and a large yard and a car big enough for their big family.

Jungkook promised Soo-ah all these things, a promise he’s been working on for the past 10 years ever since he left Busan. It’s why he works as hard as he does, taking his job seriously and making sure he performs as instructed - following rules, being meticulous, ensuring his clients are safe and protected always, with clear boundaries set.

Everything’s all about self-preservation for Jungkook because he wants to fulfill that promise because when he thinks about it, there’s not really much else to live for.

Soo-ah knows this, too, and that’s why she holds onto Jungkook the way she does, because she knows that if there’s anybody who will keep a promise of giving her a good life, it’s him.

Be someone, Jungkook, she’d said on the day he left. You can’t do that here. Be someone then come back to me. Until then, you can do whatever you want.

It was an unwritten agreement between them. Jungkook knows she’s dated around, but she always assured it was never anything serious. I have needs, she’d said, and he understood that; he was okay with that. He did, too, and he found temporary ways to sate those needs, something she didn’t mind as well.

But what she has with this man feels different. And it frustrates Jungkook because 10 years later, he still feels like he’s not enough for her.

It’s the uncertainty and feeling of defeat that feeds his frustration. It grows and he doesn’t have time to hit the gym again to let off some steam, remembering that you asked him to go to your place at 6PM.

He lazily dresses up and zones out on the way to you, thankful that Mr. Sim doesn’t prod on why he looks a little off.

Mrs. Hwang greets Jungkook as she opens the door for him and leads him to the kitchen where he can smell the amazing scent of seafood and something sweet baking. There, by your dining table, he sees you and what seems like a dinner set-up for two.

He reasons that you probably have a date, seeing the ivory dress you have on, and needed help to set up or something.

“___? What did you need help with?” He asks, looking around for any decorations he’ll set up.

You shyly look up at him and he notices you tense a little before you release a breath.

“I… Well, that was a little lie,” you giggle. “I needed an excuse for you to come over so I could tell you.”

Jungkook looks at the table and finds servings of lobster and the brand of white wine he’s mentioned in passing that he likes and some azalea flowers that he said reminds him of home. His throat dries up at what these could mean, his mind going over what made you think that this is any way acceptable, even more, what made you think this isn’t a mistake.

But still, he asks. “What… Do you mean?”

You walk over to him, your heart beating out of your chest because you’ve never done this before, never let yourself be this brave and vulnerable for someone, but you always felt like Jungkook was worth it.

“I like you, Jungkook,” you stammer. “It’s that simple, really. I thought to make you dinner and let you know and—“

“You what?” He questions, shock and a tinge of bitterness laced in his voice, something that makes you uneasy.

Jungkook searches your face for any trace that would tell him this is a prank, like some joke you’re pulling because you know this wouldn’t fly with him, but you look nervous and it only tells him that you’re serious about all this.

“What did you expect would come out of this, ___? You’ll make me dinner and then what? I’ll tell you that I feel the same way?”

“Well, uh. I was hoping you do. I mean, we’ve gotten closer and—”

“Gotten closer?” He huffs. “What makes you think that?”

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out, as you feel smaller and smaller as each second passes by.

This is not what you expected. Maybe some denial or fear but the way he sounds, the distance he puts between you, and the judging and incredulous look he has on his face is unnerving, humiliating, and you want nothing more than to travel back in time so you could stop yourself from doing this.

What did you expect would come out of this?

“I just thought that, uhm…” You clear your throat. “Do you not like me?”

“I don’t. What makes you think I do?”

He looks genuinely confused and you start to wonder if you’d imagined everything, if you’d read him completely wrong.

“That night at the gala, the way you looked at me, held me. It felt…” Your lips start to quiver.

“I was trying to get that man away from you, ___. It didn’t mean anything. I don’t like you that way.”

It’s the certainty in his words that hits you hard. It’s not so much anger but incredulity and confusion in his voice, perhaps of you thinking he feels the same way, given that he’d shown disinterest in your flirting all these months.

Maybe he has a partner that you never thought to consider, and you mentally smack yourself for pushing it, for laying yourself out for him like this without even thinking properly. Maybe his discomfort with you hasn’t changed, even if you’ve become more comfortable with each other now; he’s always reminded you that you’re his client and has always been adamant about boundaries, after all.

Maybe - and quite simply - you’re just not his type. He just doesn’t like you. You don’t really know which reason hurts most, but the reality of your unrequited feelings is enough to send you into a spiral.

You’re an absolute idiot. That’s all you could think about.

You stand there against the dining setup that you planned and put together, with the food you learned to cook, with flowers you had delivered.

And tears slowly fall down your face.

Jungkook hates this. The realization of not being enough for Soo-ah hit him hard enough, causing his mind and heart to be a mess of insecurities and uncertainties, and it’s exactly this situation he’s been avoiding all this time. Not just because of you but because of this job - he needs this job.

You’re not a terrible person. He just doesn't like you that way. His heart is with someone else. And protecting you is his duty, a means to an end.

But you’re crying, in your own home, with dinner that you prepared, and you look humiliated. The first time he’d seen you like this was in that empty hallway with your ex-boyfriend months ago and Jungkook thought even then that he wouldn’t want to see that look on your face again.

But here you are.

Here he is.

“Look, ___. I’m your bodyguard, okay? That’s all I am. This is against the rules,” he tries, softening the blow in any way he can think of, though he doesn’t know if it’s even right to state the obvious. “This can’t happen. It’s just not right. And you… You're just confused. You’re young and impressionable and just infatuated.”

You bite your lips to ease the crying and you quickly wipe your tears.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters then leaves, the empty room suddenly suffocating you, and you find it hard to breathe.

Mrs. Hwang runs you a bath as she hums the lullabies she used to sing to you as a child. She lays next to you as you cry in her embrace, softly massaging your back like how she would every time you get your heart broken.

It’s how Yoongi and Hoseok find you the next morning, with crusty eyes and pouty lips that utter the words, “I’m so stupid,” over and over again.

“I’m so humiliated,” you shout on your pillow, as your hands pound the bed. “I thought I read things right. Why did I do that? Why did I think it was okay to do that? Why am I so impulsive? Why didn’t I think of all the reasons why he doesn’t like me and focused on the one night that made me think he does?”

“Hey, don’t be too hard on yourself, alright?” Hoseok says, lying next to you and letting you koala-hug him. “You went with your gut and it just turned out to be wrong. And that’s okay. That happens sometimes.”

“You should’ve seen his face. I felt bad for him because I put him in that position. But I was embarrassed. How the hell am I gonna face him again?” You whine, suddenly mortified at the thought of seeing him first thing tomorrow morning and being with him, well, everyday.

“Well, what else can you do?” Yoongi asks from next to you.

“I don’t know. I just know that I won’t get to focus with him around me. And I’m just gonna…” You frown, burying your head on Hoseok’s arms as you feel the tears again. “I’m just gonna feel so bad because I like him and he doesn’t like me and it’s seeing someone you want everyday but can’t have and I just…”

“Hey, we’ll find a way, okay?” Yoongi says. “Have a bath, clear your mind. We’ll spend the whole day with you and we’ll figure it out.”

It’s late in the afternoon that Sunday when you decide. You just can’t be around him, so you do what you think is the only way and make a call.

“Mr. Han, I want to make a request for a replacement, please.”

Saturday night felt like a nightmare, as Jungkook recalls the look on your face at your confession. He’d gone straight to Jin’s gym right after, boxing his frustration away until he tired himself out so he could just sleep the whole Sunday and force the image of you out of his mind.

He felt terrible, turning you down like that.

“I told you she has a thing for you,” Jin had said, merely shaking his head as Jungkook painfully narrated the whole thing.

“You just said she has a crush on me. That’s totally different from having actual feelings for me,” Jungkook had replied. “This is… Fuck this is so wrong. I can’t fucking lose this job, Jin.”

“Hey, chill. Why would you? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yeah, but who knows? She tends to be impulsive and I just… So many things can happen.”

“Well, just wait it out and don’t make any rash decisions, okay? Preoccupy yourself until you have to see her again.”

It was good enough advice from his friend, Jungkook thinks now. He stayed up playing at a gaming cafe and slept the whole morning, then spent the early part of the afternoon on a run and worked out at the gym.

He could only hope it’s nothing serious when he gets a text from Mr. Han in the evening, telling him to pass by the office first thing the next morning instead of heading to you.

By this point, Jungkook is surprised by his own ability to keep his temper and not punch the first empty wall he sees.

“Ms. Lee asked for you to be replaced.” The words are ringing in his head. It takes a while to process before he asks Mr. Han the reason, even if Jungkook has a pretty good idea why.

“She doesn’t think she needs someone as skilled as you.”

It should be a compliment, at least that’s what Mr. Han says. Jungkook is apparently so good at his job that he’s of better use protecting someone else whose threat levels are much higher than yours.

You’ve never done that, the head of security says, but he leaves out the part where you requested for Jungkook to be part of your father’s security detail, commending his thoroughness and commitment to his responsibilities and tasks. It’s Mr. Han who says he’s the one recommending Jungkook to be part of your father’s security team, as it is his role.

If Jungkook didn’t feel anger then, now he does. It doesn’t matter that he still has this job, and the one he wanted in the first place. He knows why you’re doing this and he can’t believe you.

He quickly finds an outdoor space right after the meeting, hastily dialing your number. Nevermind that you’re in the car or in a coffee shop right now, or that you’re with Mr. Sim or whoever they assigned as Jungkook’s replacement.

He’s angry and upset and it’s all because of you.

“Jungkook?” You say.

“What the hell was that, ___? Do you think replacing me as your bodyguard will make me want something with you?” He shouts, thinking of this as your attempt at getting him to consider being with you.

“I tried to let you off gently but what don’t you get? I don’t like you, especially not that way. This is my job. I’m getting paid for this. I get paid to be with you everyday. That’s it. There’s nothing more.”

“That’s not what this means, Jungkook,” you tremble. “I—“

“I didn’t even want this assignment but I had no choice. I tried so hard to tolerate you. I tried to be nice and… fuck,” he yells, his bated breaths expressing his frustration.

It’s a side of him you’ve never seen nor heard but you let him lash out, let him hurt you with his words. You know that you put him in a compromising position, made him uncomfortable with your confession and while you did your best to make the request for replacement as reasonable and non-damaging as possible, you also can’t blame him for being upset.

“I’m so sorry, Jungkook,” you say and hang up.

You turn to Mr. Sim and Namjoon, your new bodyguard, who are both looking at each other with worry.

“Turn the car around please, Mr. Sim, and take me home. I’m not feeling very well.”

Series Masterlist || Previous | Next

- Permanent Taglist: @sherlynxx @di0rgguk @thequeen-kat @mwitsmejk @fan-ati--c @cravingforhotchocolate @adoraminie @jeonsfreak @helenazbmrskai @weasleyswizarding-wheezes

- Series Taglist: @emsuzz @emmmui @preciouschimine @blckjeon @shatzkrinslinzki @cantchooseanamebye @jeoncookie-bts @clumsymandu @kookiesbreaky @libra04 @petuliii @this-is-seriousbusinesz @awseokjin @kookxin @doublebunnykoo @parkdatjimin @ohmydarlin-g @jpeachytaev @paraquesufrir @kuzimuzibts @emeriroth @sweetonkookieandtae @lilyflowerguk @jwlmnbt @jimilter @squishyjk

#jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook #bodyguard jk #heiress reader #fight for you #series

1K notes · View notes

absurdthirst · 3 years ago

Text

Priorities {Marcus Pike x F!Reader}

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader

Warnings: Dad!Marcus Pike, running into ex’s, dealing with a baby, illusions to pregnancy but can also be interpreted as menstrual cravings.

Part of @autumnleaves1991-blog ‘s Writer Wednesday for 7/7/21

“No Ellaria, you leave that alone.” Marcus lunges for the clip strip displaying the brightly colored toy handing from it that has captured his daughter’s attention. Grateful that the surprisingly strong thirteen month old baby hadn’t torn it down in her eagerness to grab it and no doubt put it in her mouth.

He watches as those pitiful little eyes well up and her face screws up to start crying. Something that he was suspicious was all show when he unclips one of the small toys from the display, giving in and handing it to her. Knowing he was the pushover when it comes to to his daughter.

“We need to finish shopping and get back to mama, okay princess?” He can’t help but run his hand over her hair and drop a kiss on her head before he looks back at the section that he was in, trying to remember what he was in this aisle for. “What did we need again?” He mutters at Ellaria, happily shoving the edges of the package into her mouth. “Pickles. Yep, mommy will kill me if I don’t get her pickles.”

“Marcus?” Marcus freezes with a jar of zesty garlic dill spears in his hand at the sound of a familiar voice. One that he hasn’t heard in a few years. Turning around he sees her, confusion written on her face, but she still looks nearly the same as the last time he had seen her at the Texas office.

“Teresa.” It doesn’t hurt like it had the last time. Time and quite frankly, moving on to a better life, had healed the wounds that she had inflicted on him. A squeal of happiness pulls his attention away from the brunette and over to his daughter again. He misses the way that Teresa’s eyes widen in shock, looking between Marcus and the baby who is kicking happily and waving her chubby arms to show her dad the toy that she has in her hand.

“Is that-” Marcus sets the pickles in the main area of the cart and grins at the baby in her boppy before he turns towards the woman who had broken their engagement to be with another man. “You have a baby.” Teresa manages to sputter out.

Marcus grins proudly, nodding and angling the cart so he can keep his daughter in his sight. “I do.” He tells her. “Ellaria Marie Pike. Thirteen months old as of last Friday.” He never thought he would be one of those parents that kept track of monthly birthdates, but here he was, being a sap and loving every moment of it.

He doesn’t miss the way that Teresa’s eyes look around, obviously trying to spot you. Wondering where the mother of this child is. He wonders why she would care, she left him for Jane. Speaking of....

“How’s your husband? I heard about your marriage, congratulations.” He offers, remembering the email that Cho had sent him, giving him the heads up. He had always liked the other agent, appreciating the gesture of keeping him from running into her and being surprised if he had to come back to Texas for another trial.

Teresa flushes, her seemingly cool exterior broken as she shrugs. Obviously not wanting to discuss the infamous Patrick Jane, although Marcus notices her playing with her ring nervously. Something that was surprising for a woman who is normally so unflappable. “Thanks, he’s uh- he’s good.” She finally manages, her eyes still drifting back to Ellaria.

“DA! Da! Da! Da!” Ellaria demands his attention, her loud little voice squealing her first word, and honestly Marcus’s favorite word for her to say. He looks back over and she gives him a perfected little pout and then blows a raspberry at him, making him chuckle.

“Is your wife here?” Teresa must have noticed his own wedding band. Marcus shakes his head and turns back to the other woman with a goofy grin that he just can’t help when he thinks about you.

“She’s at home. Needed a break from this one.” He smooths his hand over his daughter’s head again and doesn’t mind when she grabs his fingers to start playing with them while he talks. “We are just here picking up some craving requests and something for dinner. Aren’t we, princess?” Ellaria makes another happy noise, already recognizing her nickname.

“Oh.” Teresa starts looking around the store, that familiar tactic of trying to find something, anything, to use as an excuse to get away. One he had used himself when he was embarrassed but that was then. “Well I-”

“Yeah, we’ve got to get going. Only a few more things on the list and we need to get back to mama.” Marcus flashes that grin again, highlighting that dimple. He lifts his eyebrow and the smile dims slightly, still friendly but no where near besotted like it was seconds before. Merely a smile you would give a stranger. “It was nice seeing you, Teresa.”

“You too, Marcus.” Her words are soft but Marcus isn’t really paying attention, already distracted by trying to remember the rest of the list he hadn’t grabbed on the way out of the house and trying his best not to call you in case you finally managed to take a nap.

This time it’s him that walks away, Teresa watching after him as he wheels the cart and his daughter away from her. The brief encounter already dismissed as an anecdote to tell you when he gets home as soon as he reaches the next aisle. He stopped pining for her a long time ago and he had more important priorities. You and Ellaria being the top two in his life, his family.

#writer wednesday #pedro pascal #marcus pike #marcus pike the mentalist #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x f!reader

371 notes · View notes

themurphyzone · 2 years ago

Text

PatB Oneshot: Brain’s How to Not Get Jealous Over a Virtual Pikachu Without Being Obvious

This is just a short silly piece of Brain getting jealous over a video game character.

AO3 Link

Pinky was singing that ridiculous intro to his How To series again. Though Brain thought there were any number of intellectual topics Pinky could have chosen that would be far more educational than trying to lick his elbow or counting (and he used that term loosely) how many licks it would take to get to the center of a Tootsie pop, the channel was popular enough to pull in revenue to fund world domination plans.

That was the only reason Brain tolerated the channel.

It wasn't because Pinky seemed even happier than usual whenever he did the channel, to the point of glowing brightly enough to rival the sun.

It seemed that after so many years of jumping between hobbies on a whim without commitment, Pinky finally found a calling as a vlogger.

Brain still remembered his shock the first time Pinky had given him a check and explained that he had enough subscribers to get money for his channel, and he was happy to donate all the proceeds to a 'help Brain take over the world' fund.

Part of him had wanted to take all the money he could get, and if Pinky was willing to give all of it, then so be it. But at the same time, he knew he couldn't take the entire sum for himself in good conscious when Pinky worked hard on his channel.

While the plan he'd enacted with the cut he had fell through, Pinky had enough to treat him to a restaurant with excellent garlic jumbo prawns and lobster mac and cheese, where the cheese was the right amount of gooey without being stringy nor runny.

Brain grabbed his notepad and pencil, intending to move to a nearby room where he could work on his plan in peace, when Pinky suddenly came around the corner, dragging his smartphone alongside him.

"Narf! And for today's subscriber special, I'm bringing back a popular guest star! Everyone, say hello to the Brain! You really loved him in my other videos How to Squish your Brain and How to Take Over the World!" Pinky exclaimed, holding the smartphone with one hand and dragging Brain into a side-hug with the other. "Say hi, Brain!"

Brain instinctively kicked his feet and struggled to get free, only stopping when he noticed the massive influx of comments greeting him.

Hi, Brain!

Egad, he's back!

This is gonna be good!

JFGFJDFHZFHXCHVKHLCNGHXF

There was a ridiculous amount of heart and smiley face emojis to accompany the words and indecipherable keyboard smashing.

Surprised by the amount of positive, excited comments that were all eager to see him again, in addition to recovering from that surprise hug from Pinky, all Brain could do was hold his hand up in an awkward greeting.

Perhaps he should try to project the image of a powerful world ruler, but a new wave of excited comments flooded the chat.

He was used to producing and editing videos for world domination, but since this was completely unrelated, he was at a loss.

"The last two videos you appeared in had the most views. The subscribers really like our chemistry together!" Pinky grinned.

They did?

If that was the case, then maybe he could put together a little chemistry experiment he and Pinky could present to the audience?

Pinky's channel could definitely use some sort of educational material. And appealing to the youth could be very beneficial in the future.

“I’d prefer to stay on schedule, so I can only stay for a few minutes,” Brain said, but that was enough to satisfy Pinky and his viewers.

“Great!” Pinky said with a grin. “Now that we’ve got Brain on board, let’s start Pinky’s How to Play Nintendo Games Part Three! One of the interns was kind enough to let us borrow this nifty game called Let’s Go Pikachu! Isn’t that sweet of them?”

Brain suspected that the game had been unintentionally left behind rather than borrowed. Honestly. A lab was a place for science, not video games. Didn’t anyone understand how hard it was to draw out schematics for a hydroelectric dam on the Mississippi River when they were all shouting during an impromptu Smash Bros tournament?

And that male intern with a permanent case of bedhead was too much of a coward to get close to his opponents. Why did he even bother picking Bowser if he wasn’t going to employ aggressive strategies? Not that Brain was paying attention to the battles.

“Step one, look at how shiny this donut is! You can make little rainbows!” Pinky exclaimed as he took the disc out of its case and twirled it on his finger, moving it around at different angles to catch the light.

Brain sighed. “Discs haven’t become that obsolete for you to forget what they’re called.”

“I haven’t forgotten, Brain! The donut is where the virtual world sleeps and plays when you’re not using them! Wonder what kind of things they get up to when we’re not watching…” Pinky said as he inserted the game disc into the Switch and booted up the TV.

“Hopefully not hijacking each other’s games,” Brain remarked.

Wreck it Ralph reference! Nice!

I’m gonna wreck it!

I can fix it!

Any opinions on the plot twist of that movie? *italicize*

“Assuming you’re referring to the Turbo twist, I can understand how it came as a complete surprise to any nonobservant viewer. Pinky falls for it every time he watches that movie,” Brain said. “But I saw it coming from a mile away.”

Pinky hurried over to the couch with the small controller in hand. One of the good things about this game system was that the controller was easy for a mouse to handle, and Brain didn’t have to worry about Pinky spraining his limbs from stretching them out too far anymore.

“No, you didn’t! You fell for King Candy’s fake story too! You yelled at the screen when you found out it was a lie!” Pinky smirked, and the little anecdote led to the comments teasing Brain for getting invested in the movie.

“I did nothing of the sort,” Brain grumbled, slumping against the couch cushion. “And don’t you have a game to start?”

Nobody needed to know about him secretly rewatching the movie to catch every bit of foreshadowing though.

Thankfully, everyone’s attention shifted to the game. It seemed that the intern had recently purchased the game and hadn’t gotten a chance to play so far, since there was no save file on the main menu.

Pinky sat beside Brain on the couch, his tailtip brushing Brain’s fur before he batted it away. The smartphone was now on a coffee table, pointing straight at the TV screen.

The tension in Brain’s shoulders leaked out once he realized that it would just be his voice on camera.

“Mind reading the text for our captive audience, Brain?” Pinky asked as the introduction scene with Professor Oak began.

“So now you admit to holding everyone hostage with a children’s game?” Brain grumbled.

Pinky nodded eagerly. “Yup! And between the two of us, you’re the anemic and professor-y one.”

Well, he did have a few stints as an instructor, which he thought he was pretty good at…

“Academic, Pinky. Not anemic. My hemoglobin levels have always been alright,” Brain sighed. “But you do have a point about my voice being suited for a professor, even a fictional one who makes children do his fieldwork for him.”

From there, Brain narrated the opening, while Pinky cooed at the cute little Pikachu who stayed by Oak’s side.

It all went smoothly…until Pinky had to select his character. He switched back and forth between the male and female options, the cursor flickering rapidly between options.

“I like this one!” Pinky exclaimed, hovering over the male trainer. “Wait, no…I think I like the hair on the girl better…but I like the clothes on the boy too…oh, why do they have to make this so hard!”

Brain rolled his eyes and waited impatiently for him to pick something. If he were standing up, he’d be tapping his foot faster than a rabbit.

Had Pinky played anything in the Pokemon franchise before? If he did, how did he manage to pick a starter out of the three choices they usually gave the player when he had this much trouble with the character selection alone?

“For Ptolemy’s sake, just pick something already!” Brain snapped when five minutes rolled by without any progress.

“Poit! Don’t rush me, Brain! I’m still deciding!” Pinky protested.

“Well, decide faster, or I’ll do it for you!” Brain grumbled.

Pinky offered him the controller with a smile. “You’ll pick for me? Thanks, Brain!”

Brain took the controller, selected the male trainer option, and threw it back into Pinky’s lap. He quickly regretted giving it back when the game prompted the player to name the character.

“Just use your name,” Brain suggested, so they wouldn’t be stuck on this couch for the next century.

“Egad, why didn’t I think of that?” Pinky slapped his forehead, though he didn’t do it nearly hard enough to jostle the fluff between his ears.

“You usually don’t,” Brain said.

He expected Pinky to type his own name into the box, but to his surprise, Pinky had typed ‘Yourname’ instead.

How Pinky’s poor imitation of a mind worked, he’d never know.

Pinky skipped through the rest of the dialogue, taking a few minutes to explore the quaint Pallet Town.

And finally, Yourname caught up with Professor Oak and caught himself a Pikachu in the process. Thankfully, Pinky didn’t break the TV this time as he waved his controller at the screen. Though they were supposed to follow Oak back to the lab, Pinky opened the menu instead to look at the summary of his new Pikachu.

Pinky started to laugh at the summary, which stated that the Pikachu had a sassy nature and was quick tempered. “I have the perfect name for this little guy,” Pinky smirked, and he went straight to the nickname screen.

“Don’t take forever this time,” Brain sighed.

Only to jolt in surprise when Pinky had named the Pikachu ‘Brain’.

He tried not to react, tried not to be flattered, tried to deny that his own zigzagged tail had a very similar shape to Pikachu’s, but to no avail.

And it didn’t help that Pinky quickly discovered there was a way to pet the Pikachu named Brain. He cursed the developers for putting an interactive feature when it was completely unnecessary.

The cursor ran over the Pikachu’s ears, to his cheeks, and around his head. And the Pikachu, while acting a little standoffish at first, gradually relaxed and cooed with a high-pitched squeal of delight.

Pinky was enamored by a virtual creature of all things. That Pikachu was a piece of code, a whole bunch of numbers and letters under its fuzzy exterior! It was just programmed to act all cutesy for player appeal.

Text appeared on the screen, and Brain nearly choked from seeing his name being used on such drivel.

Brain enjoys being petted on the head!

Brain enjoys eating the berry!

Oh, looks like Brain has a present for you!

“Awww, that’s so sweet, Brain!” Pinky smiled, his tail wagging as he profusely thanked the virtual Pikachu for the cutesy leaf-wrapped present.

Stupid Pikachu. Pinky was just easily drawn in by adorable things, that was all! It wasn’t personal or anything.

That Pikachu better not get any ideas…

He didn’t care if he was personifying a code. It was just a bunch of numbers…a bunch of numbers that Pinky was lavishing all his attention on. That Pinky was petting and calling adorable and receiving presents from…

Something needed to be done about that.

Now.

The smartphone was pointed at the TV. As long as he was quiet about it, the Internet would never know.

Slowly, he scooted a centimeter closer to Pinky, whose eyes were still glued to the screen. Then another centimeter, and when he saw Pinky’s eyes flicker over to him, he quickly stretched his limbs out like he was trying to get into a more comfortable position.

Once Pinky returned to feeding berries to Pikachu, Brain covered the rest of the short distance between them. He felt Pinky’s warmth, though he tried not to sit so close to his fur. Pinky’s tail wiggled against Brain’s, and the room suddenly seemed a lot hotter.

Were they ever going to fix the thermostat in this lab?

Then Pinky’s sky-blue eyes turned to Brain, and he quickly looked away, trying to get that puzzled look out of his head.

Realizing that this strange compulsion to sit so close to Pinky was leading him into a situation he couldn’t get out of so easily, Brain tried to come up with a plausible excuse.

I was checking the upholstery of this couch. I’m trying to see what brand of TV this is. I thought I saw a stain shaped like Alexander Graham Bell on the carpet.

He was leaning towards the upholstery excuse when an arm suddenly wrapped around his waist and pulled him into a warm, soft-furred chest.

Brain instinctively kicked his feet to escape, before remembering that the entire point was to be next to Pinky to show that thieving Pikachu there was only room for one mouse around here.

And he was immensely satisfied when Pinky let out a contented narf, shifting his position so they’d both be more comfortable. Brain smirked at the virtual Pikachu as Pinky exited the interaction screen and continued with the game.

Once that heartsnatching Pikachu was gone, Brain allowed himself to relax into the rhythm of Pinky’s breaths.

This was his Pinky, and Pikachu better remember that or else Brain was going to glue him to the roof and use him as a living lightning rod.

#pinky and the brain #patb fanfiction #patb pokemon

21 notes · View notes

cinnaminsvga · 4 years ago

Text

🌷 social media au where y/n posts an advertisement looking for a new place to stay that is closer to campus, causing seven upperclassmen to make it their mission to recruit her into their dormitories 🌷

A/N: THIS TOOK FOREVER AND I KINDA RUSHED IT AT THE END BUT HOPEFULLY IT MAKES SENSE?? anyway, yoongi didn’t do anything stupid (depending on your definition of stupid) so no need to worry about him being cringey,,, i spared you all from the secondhand embarrassment but i won’t be so kind next time!! anyway... enjoy || W.C. 3.8K

prev // part 11 // next masterlist here.

By the time Seokjin’s phone begins to ring, Yoongi can already feel the dread settle deep inside his bones. The familiar coil of anxiety tightens around his throat like a vice, and Yoongi has to remember how to breathe to keep himself from fainting like a corseted Victorian lady.

“Well, that must be her!” Seokjin chimes, promptly declining your call without a glance. Yoongi catches a glimpse of your contact photo anyway: it’s an unflattering angle of you from below your neck, giving the illusion of a multitude of chins. If it were any other time, Yoongi might have smiled like a lovesick fool.

“Don’t you dare let her in here,” Yoongi seethes. He tries to sound menacing, but the effect is severely diminished by how badly his voice cracks. He tugs at Seokjin by the sleeve, but the older man refuses to budge. “Hyung, I’m serious. I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Are you done live-tweeting your confusion now? Finally got the memo? I always knew you were a smart boy,” Seokjin laughs, patting Yoongi on the shoulder with his tomato sauce-covered tongs. “Since we’re on the same page now, why don’t you change clothes while I finish cooking? I know your entire wardrobe is composed of the free t-shirts you got from job fairs, but it would do well to wear a clean, unstained shirt.”

Yoongi swipes at him, hissing like the catboy that he is. “You’re the one who wiped shit on me, asshole. And yes, I figured out what you are trying to do. You think you’re so slick, but I know that you’re just trying to embarrass me in front of Y/N!”

Seokjin shrugs. “It isn’t like I’m trying to be slick. I embarrass you all the time. Besides, I’m setting you up on a date with the love of your life! You should be thanking me, if I’m being honest.”

Yoongi stammers, his jaw dropping in shock. “Love of my–?”

Seokjin waves his tongs in his face, silencing him. “Oh, hush. Don’t even try to hide it, Yoongi. I figured out that you like Y/N. Your weird behavior finally makes sense! After years of you avoiding her, I always thought you were just bad at forming human connections, but turns out you’ve got a gigantic heart boner for my best friend!”

“Please don’t phrase it like that,” Yoongi groans, smashing his head against his kitchen counter. He hopes a few brain cells might have died, just so he can stop processing the words coming out of Seokjin’s mouth. “Actually, just please stop talking.”

Seokjin snorts in exasperation as if Yoongi was the dramatic one between them. “Point is, this is a favor that I’ve chosen to grant you from the goodness of my heart! As I said, I’m giving you the love life you deserve! So stop whining and get moving before Y/N gets up here.”

“There isn’t any goodness nor a heart inside of you. And more importantly, when was the last time you did anything for free, you capitalist bastard!”

Seokjin clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “That’s where you’re wrong, Yoongi-chi. You’ve already paid me for my services by offering me front row seats to watch you lose your fucking mind. And that, my friend, is priceless.”

“Aha! So you do admit that this is all just a ploy to humiliate me!” Yoongi shouts. He grabs a knife from his scabbard, pointing it threateningly at Seokjin. He doesn’t even flinch, instead gently guiding Yoongi by the wrist over to the chopping board where he had placed some garlic cloves beforehand. Without prompting, Yoongi’s hand begins to move, his culinary instincts taking over.

“Yes and no,” Seokjin admits as he grabs Yoongi’s cast iron pan from the top shelf (which he has never gotten to use since he bought it, ever since Seokjin had borrowed it once and placed it too high for him to retrieve.) “I’m honestly trying to help you out here, my dude. Besides, even if shit hits the fan, Y/N isn’t gonna think any less of you. She’s too much of an idiot to resent anyone.”

“Speaking from experience?” Yoongi huffs, eyeing him with intense vitriol. “Can’t say I understand how she’s gone this long without killing you.” The next time the two of them are alone together in the wilderness, he can’t promise that his hands won’t find their way around Seokjin’s throat, and it won’t be sexy.

“Hmm. Yeah, definitely,” he says, nodding absentmindedly. As he begins to season the steak, he hands the cast iron pan to Yoongi. “Start preheating this. We need it to be smoking hot before we can place the steak on there.”

“I know how to cook a steak, fucker. And who said you’re allowed to serve my Wagyu steak? I was saving that for a special occasion!”

Seokjin looks up from his ministrations long enough to raise a brow at him. “So going on your first ever date with Y/N isn’t considered a special occasion?”

Yoongi falters, eyes widening. “N-no, that’s not what I mean!” he defends hotly, but he quickly snaps out of it. “Wait, no! This is not a date! Not when both parties did not agree to any of this!”

Seokjin pauses from his cooking to place a perfectly manicured hand on his hip. “I mean, Y/N agreed to it, so are you going to reject her? Huh? Too good for her and my spaghetti?”

Yoongi scoffs, rolling his eyes. “No, she did not agree to this. She doesn’t even know you’re forcing her to eat lunch with me.”

“How can you say that with such certainty?” Seokjin challenges, puffing his cheeks. “You don’t even know what I told her!”

Except I do know what you said, Yoongi thinks darkly to himself. And more importantly, I know what she thinks you were implying. He is pretty sure that the words “crush on him during high school” have seared themselves underneath his eyelids forevermore.

But instead, he says, “Yeah, well. If what you told her is as vague as what you told me, I have a pretty good hunch that this is going to blow up into a huge misunderstanding.”

Like the absolute menace that he is, all Seokjin does is shrug nonchalantly. “Suppose you are right… Who cares? It’s not like the two of you are strangers, so I’m sure this is going to go great!”

“What the fuck? She is a stranger! I’ve literally only spoken two words to her in the past four years!” Yoongi seethes, his temple throbbing from an oncoming migraine.

Seokjin ignores him, as per his want. “Grab that plate, will you? I gotta plate the pasta before Y/N starts calling again to let her into the building,” he says, nudging the tongs into Yoongi’s hands. Yoongi squawks, quickly turning the stove off to keep the food from burning.

Seokjin tears off his (read: Yoongi’s) apron off, wiping his hands on his jeans with a quick smile. “Great! While you finish up here, I’ll distract Y/N for a bit in my room before I lead her in here, alright? You better hurry unless you want to keep her waiting!”

“Oh, like how you kept her waiting downstairs for the past–” Yoongi checks his wall clock, “–seven minutes?”

Seokjin cackles madly, rushing out the door. “Well, that’s where you and I differ, Yoongi-chi! I give no shits about how Y/N thinks about me, so good luck!” After sending Yoongi three flying kisses for good measure, Seokjin slams the door shut, leaving Yoongi to simmer in his bad life choices.

The worst choice that he’s ever made? Being friends with one (1) Kim Seokjin.

“God, just end me,” Yoongi mutters, placing his $80 steak on his pan. It sizzles deliciously, much like how his (nonexistent) love life is about to get burnt to a crisp.

x x x x x

“Took you long enough.” You watch as Seokjin taunts you with a funny little dance by the lobby of his dormitory, the building receptionist not even batting an eye at his eccentricity. That’s the sad side effect of living in close proximity with Seokjin: you start getting desensitized to most things, not even flinching at the sight of a man without a functioning central nervous system.

Seokjin slides his card to open the door, finally allowing you entry. “Sorry. Got busy preparing your lunch! Which by the way, you should be thanking me for.”

“The moment I thank you for anything is the day that you slip on your own cum and die,” you grouse, nudging past him to get on the elevator first. You punch the button for the 5th floor before rapidly trying to close the elevator door on him. Unfortunately, Seokjin makes it in time before his ass gets clamped by the two steel doors.

“Thinking about my cum? Oh my, Y/N… I know you’ve had a dry spell for too long, but I didn’t think you’d be that desperate for some of my butter,” Seokjin says, leaning closely to wink at you.

Against your will, your cheeks brighten furiously, weakly pushing Seokjin away from you. “You wish. At least I don’t spend my spare time loitering outside the campus gym to ogle all the sweaty hot people.”

“And the invitation to join me still stands by the way!” Seokjin singsongs, leaping out of the elevator once you reach his floor. You walk side by side until you reach his room, but you catch him shooting a furtive glance at his next-door neighbor.

“Is Yoongi joining us for lunch?” you ask, failing to keep your curiosity from showing in your voice. If Yoongi does end up joining you for lunch (which has never happened in the past four years, convincing you that he must have a personal grudge against you), then at least it can confirm to you straight away that whatever this “date” is just another prank by Seokjin. You don’t know if you should be disappointed or grateful if it is just a joke.

Seokjin beams in response, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “You know what? He is going to join us, actually!”

He had been in the midst of unlocking his dorm when he changes direction, leading you to Yoongi’s door instead. He rifles through his other keys, and you notice one of them looks similar to his own house key, except with a Hello Kitty sticker on it. He pulls that key out and promptly unlocks Yoongi’s door without missing a beat.

What kind of weirdo must Yoongi be to give Seokjin a spare key to his dorm? You’d rather shit out a cactus than let Seokjin have free entry to your home whenever he pleases.

You hesitate by Yoongi’s door, feeling nervous all of a sudden. “Um, Seokjin? Are you sure it’s okay for me to–?”

“HONEY I’M HOOOOME!” Seokjin’s loud guffaw cuts you off before you can finish your question. He bursts through the door and leaves you by the hallway, and you watch as he nearly tackles Yoongi to the ground.

Yoongi, despite looking like he’s half the size of Seokjin on a good day, manages to keep upright despite how his back is now bent parallel to the floor. “Get off me!” he yells, roughly pushing Seokjin off of him.

Seokjin tumbles to the floor, but the shit-eating grin on his face hardly wavers. He points at you by the doorway, a cheeky grin on his lips. “Look, Yoongi-chi! I brought a guest!”

Yoongi spares you half a glance before returning his attention to whatever he was cooking. “I suppose you did.”

Okay, this date is definitely a joke. Why the hell did you even think for a second that Seokjin might have been into you?

“Um,” you stutter nervously. You grind your heel into the carpet self-consciously, your gaze downcast. “Hello, Yoongi. Sorry for the intrusion, by the way…”

“It’s fine,” Yoongi replies, albeit a little curtly. He clears his throat, his face still tilted away from you so you can’t tell if he’s genuinely annoyed or not.

You point a glare at Seokjin, who looks shamelessly pleased with himself. After taking a deep breath, you take your first steps into Yoongi’s home before gently closing the door.

As you look around at your new surroundings, you notice that his home is a lot cleaner than you would have expected, though you’re not exactly sure what you should have expected in the first place. It’s minimalist, but not in a barren type of way; it’s seems like Yoongi is fond of simple designs more than anything. It’s certainly a nice change of pace compared to Seokjin’s abomination of a room, with his vaguely yellow-stained bedsheets.

The smell of freshly cooked pasta and meat being grilled catches your senses immediately. You watch as Yoongi flips over a hefty piece of steak, the aroma causing your mouth to salivate instantly.

“I… What is… Huh?” you start, not knowing what to ask. You catch Seokjin snickering quietly to himself, but promptly shuts up when you mime punching him in the dick.

“It’ll be finished in a second. Why don’t you sit down?” Yoongi announces quietly, his gaze still fixed away from you. Confused but left with no other choice, you tentatively make your way to his couch, unable to relax as your spine remains ramrod straight and your jaw stays clenched.

You hear Seokjin shuffling behind you until he eventually makes his way to sit with you, plopping onto the couch as if it were his home. “Ah… I’m soooo hungry. Smells good, doesn’t it?” he asks you, his brow wiggling too much to be considered normal. Either that, or he was having a stroke.

“Yeah, it does,” you say, greatly uncomfortable. You peek at Yoongi once more, who is still dutifully attending to the steak. Making sure he isn’t looking, you twist Seokjin by the nipple, causing the elder to let out a high-pitched squeal. To an outsider, it might have almost sounded like he was being pleasured.

“Ouch! What the fuck was that for?” Seokjin whines, rubbing his tenderized nipples.

“You know what that was for,” you hiss, keeping your volume low. “What the hell are we doing here? Why are you making Yoongi cook for us?!”

“For us? It’s for you!” Seokjin snaps back. “Didn’t you say you would only come over if you got fed? Well, this is how you get fed!”

“I was under the assumption that you would be feeding me, not him!” you seethe. You check back on Yoongi, who still hasn’t looked your way once. “The poor boy… No wonder he doesn’t like me! He must think I’m as bad as you!”

Seokjin snorts. “Of course he likes you! This whole lunch date wouldn’t have even fucking happened if he wasn’t assdeep in lo–”

“Lunch is finished,” Yoongi interrupts loudly, his spatula rattling loudly against his pan. The sudden noise makes you jump away from Seokjin, who appears vaguely triumphant.

“T-thanks,” you stutter, standing up and resisting the random urge to shake his hand. Everything about this situation is so tense and awkward that it feels like you’re being filmed for a prank Youtube video or something. Knowing Seokjin, the odds of that happening are great.

“That’s my cue to leave then! Bye! You guys have fun!” Seokjin says, jumping to his feet.

You vaguely hear Yoongi gasp quietly when you launch yourself at Seokjin, just narrowly keeping from escaping. “Oh no, you don’t! Who said you could leave? You’re not going anywhere!”

But like the slippery snake that he is, Seokjin manages to wriggle out of your arms and hop over Yoongi’s coffee table to get to the door. “Too bad! I have classes to get to, so I gotta blast! Use this time to get to know each other or whatever it is that kids do these days,” he says, winking salaciously. With one final sputter of (evil) laughter, Seokjin makes his exit, leaving you and Yoongi to fester in some good ol’ fashioned discomforting silence.

“Um,” you say, just as Yoongi opens his mouth to say something too.

“No, you go first–”

“You go ahead–”

The two of you pause mid-sentence, staring at each other. You grin sheepishly at him, motioning for him to speak first.

He returns your smile half-heartedly. “So, um… I just wanted to say I’m sorry for letting Seokjin rope you into this. I tried stopping him, but… You know how he is.”

You laugh, sounding a little crazed even to your own ears. That’s the longest sentence you’ve ever heard him speak!

“Yeah, believe me… I am intimately aware of how he is. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t,” you joke.

Amazingly, your little quip makes his smile widen, his cheeks puffing up imperceptibly. “Glad we can agree that Seokjin has the amazing ability to ruin people’s lives. It’s almost welcoming to find solidarity in a shared experience.”

“Shared experience? Try shared trauma. That dude is a walking serotonin sucker,” you say dryly.

You don’t think what you said was remotely funny enough to warrant a laugh, but it causes Yoongi to let out a loud snort regardless. But the amusement on his face is short-lived, his cheeks going red in embarrassment. He slaps a hand to his mouth, breaking eye contact once more. “Oh fuck, that was so unflattering,” he groans, clearly mortified.

His blush, multiplied by his shy demeanor, makes you want to coo at him, but you doubt he’d take that too kindly. So instead, you change the subject to save him. “So, uhh… The food? You don’t have to give me any, by the way. I wouldn’t want you to waste your lunch on me or anything.”

Yoongi snaps out of his previous embarrassment, returning to the more familiar stoic expression you’ve come to associate with Yoongi. “No, that’s fine. Seokjin–er, rather… I made enough for two people, so it would be a waste if you didn’t eat at least some of it. But I don’t care either way if you want it or not.”

For two people? you wonder. So Yoongi had known Seokjin wasn’t going to join for lunch?

“Oh, if it’s fine with you…” you trail off, meekly making your way towards him. The spaghetti and steak look absolutely delicious, though you don’t need to tell him that when your stomach speaks for you. “Oh shit, that’s so embarrassing,” you say, your cheeks heating up this time.

Yoongi chuckles, shaking his head. “Haven’t eaten breakfast yet, I assume? That’s pretty stupid if you ask me. Don’t you have class until 5? How the hell would you have survived until then?”

You choke in surprise. Where did all that sass suddenly come from? “Excuse me? I’m not stupid! I would’ve been fine with a sandwich from the cafeteria if you must know!” you say indignantly. You’re too busy being offended that you don’t fully comprehend his words, failing to notice how he had known you had class until 5 in the first place.

“Sure, whatever you say.” Rolling his eyes, Yoongi starts shifting through his cupboards and pulling out a pink tupperware. He begins to load them with food, nearly overflowing the containers with how much he tries to stuff in them.

“H-hey! What are you doing?”

“Packing your lunch. You have class in a bit, yeah? It’s almost 11:50 and it takes around 15 minutes to get to the main campus. You won’t have time to eat here and make it in time,” he says, pointing you with a look. “Wait. Did you have coffee this morning?”

“Yeah? So?” you ask, defensive. “Are you gonna call me stupid again for not having caffeine or something?”

“No,” he grunts. “If you’re caffeinated, then that means it should only take you 7 minutes to get to class.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!” you exclaim, but you can’t help letting out an incredulous laugh. “Wow. You’re kinda weird, did you know that?”

“You barely even know me, so how would you know?” he retorts. He finishes placing food into the tupperware and promptly clicks the lid in place. He offers it to you, smirking slightly.

You huff, but your ire is all for show. You aren’t actually annoyed by him–he’s just… different from what you expected. A little shy, a little rough around the edges… but you can tell he isn’t a bad guy. You understand why Seokjin loves to torment him; he seems like a fun person to tease.

“That can be amended,” you respond, taking the tupperware from him. Your fingers graze the backs of his hand by accident, causing him to quickly retract his hand as though he’d been burned. You nearly drop the container in surprise, but luckily your reflexes save your precious food just in time.

“Sorry. About… you know.” Yoongi gesticulates wildly, his gaze darting anywhere but at you.

You smile secretly to yourself, amused. Ah. He’s like a human seesaw. Blushy one second and grumpy the next. “No worries, Yoongi. I’ll be sure to return this container soon, so don’t you worry.”

Yoongi shrugs. “Keep it if you want. I don’t care either way.”

Says the guy who has an entire cupboard full of color coordinating food containers. “Roger that, Yoongi.”

Yoongi walks you out the door, pausing outside the hallway with you. “Do you…” he hesitates, swallowing loudly enough for you to hear. “Do you… want me to walk you out?”

His sudden offer almost makes you want to laugh, but you have a feeling he wouldn’t find it amusing at all. Instead, you just shake your head with a smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t get lost. I think I remember where the door is.”

He pouts, his lips jutting out cutely. “Yeah, well. I was just trying to be nice, but you do you.”

You giggle lightly, patting him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. You were more than nice,” you say, winking for added effect. It does more than you thought it would, causing Yoongi’s cheeks to bloom once more.

With one last wave, you make your way out of the dormitory, your heart a little lighter than before.

“Huh. That was weird.” You glance at the pink little tupperware in your hands, its warmth keeping your hands safe from the winter chill. As you walk to class, your thoughts are filled with nothing but a shy boy with soft hands and even softer cheeks. Maybe Tuesday isn’t going to be so bad after all.

#btsghostie #bts social media au #bts smau #bts texts #bts fake texts #bts x reader #bts smut #bts fluff #bts #bts scenarios #bts imagines #jungkook x reader #taehyung x reader #jimin x reader #yoongi x reader #namjoon x reader #hoseok x reader #seokjin x reader

436 notes · View notes

milenadaniels · 3 years ago

Text

Actually, Truly, 14k - Buck/Eddie, Helena POV, post-s4 (AO3)

Isabel calls to tell them Eddie's been shot on a Thursday afternoon and by lunch on Friday Helena and Ramon are landing at LAX. When they land, they learn Eddie's already home recovering and has been for two weeks.

----

Or, Helena (and Ramon) tries to find a way back into Eddie's life and doesn't know what to make of finding Buck around every corner she turns.

Isabel calls on a Thursday afternoon and by lunch on Friday Helena and Ramon are landing at LAX. Their son’s been shot, again, in the line of duty. But this time, instead of being thousands of miles away and out of reach, he’s just a short plane ride away.

Isabel insists they come to her house before going to the hospital but she doesn’t blame COVID protocols for keeping them away from the hospital, so they spend the car ride over imagining the worst.

A complication with surgery.

Permanent damage.

A coma.

The news they receive is that Eddie’s fine, and he’s been home and recuperating for two weeks already.

Helena retreats to the living room while Ramon and his mother fight in the kitchen. They’re yelling in Spanish and for once she wishes she’d never learned.

“Escúchame, Ramon,” Isabel tries to interrupt. Listen to me.

The yelling continues because Ramon doesn’t listen. It’s not his strong suit. Nor is it Helena’s.

Helena paces the length of the living room and holds her phone in her hands, thumb over Eddie’s name in FaceTime, not pressing down.

Eddie’s been home for two weeks.

Isabel hadn’t told them for two weeks.

But Eddie hadn’t either.

They hadn’t seen him in person in nearly two years, and he hadn’t called them since their last fight over a month ago.

Still, Eddie was shot in the streets by a sniper and he didn’t call them.

Mom, listen...

The last time they spoke, it was a phone call, not a video chat, maybe because at that point just the sight of each others’ faces was enough to set them all off. In that phone call, Eddie spoke of a friend whose family was somehow worse off than their own, but who, miraculously, were finally making the effort to fix the broken ties between them in therapy.

“Mom, listen… I spent a long time being angry with Shannon instead of trying to reach out to her and now Christopher is never going to have her in his life again. I don’t want that with you,” Eddie said, his voice brusque but calm, measured. “I don’t want to grin and bear it when you call or when we visit. I want to be glad to pick up the phone, I want to be excited to see you all at Christmas, I want you to be part of our lives. But I can’t do that without you meeting me halfway.” He was resolute, but he was pleading too. “I don’t want to spend the next ten years of our lives like this.”

But the idea of therapy was anathema to the Diaz family and it took only Ramon’s dismissive scoff to reinforce her own distaste of the idea. They called Eddie back to say they had no intention of paying a stranger to tell them everything was their fault and he was blameless.

They didn’t get another call after that.

“— my son!” Ramon yells at Isabel in the kitchen.

“Because, mijo, when you come here, you don’t see your son! You don’t see him living here, growing, Christopher thriving! You don’t see how when you come up here you bring sadness and misery when you should bring joy and comfort.” The words are too close to what Eddie said for them not to have spoken about it together. “By the time I knew he was hurt, he was already out of surgery and doing well. If he wasn’t, I would have called immediately.”

“Oh bueno, so you’ll tell me my son is dying but not that he’s okay?”

“Ramon! Escúchame.” It’s not often that Helena gets to bear witness to the steel in Isabel’s voice, the one she passed down to both her kids. It’s in fine form today. “He was doing well, and had all the help he needed. As soon as things stabilized, I called you. Keep acting like a fool and see if I call you at all next time.”

“If you call? Are you —”

Mom, listen…

“Ramon!” Helena snaps, surprising them all.

“Ramon,” she repeats, more calmly this time. “Listen to her.”

The shock on Isabel’s face almost makes her smile, but her heart is too heavy to commit to it.

“Helena, two weeks she —”

“Our son was shot, and he didn’t tell us.” Helena says, her voice trembling. “Our son was shot, he could have died, and the last thing we would have told him is we weren’t willing to fight for him and Christopher. Weren’t willing to — what? — put our egos aside? Our pride? For one fucking minute to listen to him. To listen to what he needed.”

Ramon’s eyes widen and he hangs his head with a sigh.

Helena faces Isabel, her phone tucked in her palm against her stomach.

“What can we do? We’re listening.”

——————-

Ramon walks it off and Helena helps Isabel in the kitchen in exchange for a promise they’ll go over to Eddie’s for supper. She’s been making care packages for Eddie and Christopher since the shooting, and she’s working on a pasta sauce while Helena starts on her famous banana brown sugar bread — Eddie’s favourite.

“How is he, really?” she asks once her dish is tucked into the oven.

“As well as can be expected,” Isabel replies, throwing spices into the pot with an ease Helena never grew into. “He was tired for the first few days, but now it’s like a broken arm. Uncomfortable but not so painful.”

“How long is it supposed to take to heal?”

Isabel casts a suspicious eye her way as if she can anticipate the date of Helena’s return flight adjusting already, but answers, “they say 6 to 8 weeks. It’s for the bone to heal, mostly, in his back. The rest should be sooner.”

Helena broke her wrist years ago, when the kids were nearly teenagers, and it was three months of hell trying to manage a household one handed while Ramon spent most of that time travelling across Texas.

Who’s helping him? Is Carla back in the picture? Is she working overtime? How can he afford that on sick leave? Is Pepa or one of the cousins going over? Is his girlfriend there? Who’s helping with Christopher? How is he managing?

The questions — all genuine and well-meaning, all a shade too accusatory — are on her tongue, pressed to the back of her teeth to keep from escaping. She’s entitled to answers, even if she doesn’t like them. She knows she has the right to at least know how her son is caring for himself and her grandson while he’s injured. If he’d told them when it happened Helena could have been here in a heartbeat to help, but no, Eddie’s just as stubborn as they are, just as prideful. He’d rather suffer alone than accept their help. Fine. But she’s still his mother, and Christopher’s grandmother. She raised them both. She has a right to—

Mom, listen…

Helena takes a deep breath in, anchors herself in the mixed scents of the rich sauce and the sweet bread cooking, and breathes out. Isabel sends her another look but says nothing.

————-

Helena cries when she sees Eddie, and cries a bit harder when she sees the apprehension in his eyes. Her baby boy looks a bit pale, but he’s standing on his own two feet and answering the door himself.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she murmurs, wrapping him gently into her arms, mindful not to press into the sling or his back.

“Hi, mom,” he says quietly, like he’s trying to gentle the stiffness in his voice.

She releases him, but not before pressing three kisses into his temple, always three. One for each of her kids.

Ramon steps into the space she leaves when she continues into the house and from the corner of her eye, she sees him cup the back of Eddie’s head and take a good look at him. For Ramon, it’s the equivalent of collapsing to the floor in tears.

Helena quickly toes off her boots and makes room at the entrance for the others behind her, which also puts her first in line to catch a sight that nearly knocks her down.

“Who is this young man I see?” she cries, throwing her hands wide to gesture at her grandson. “Last I saw you, you were just a little tyke. Now look at you, you must have grown three feet!”

Christopher giggles and Helena smiles in return as she folds him into her arms, but it’s forced. She’s not lying — he’s grown so much more than she expected. She hasn’t seen him in person since Eddie’s graduation and while video chats are priceless, they didn’t capture this growth spurt.

She can’t believe she let this happen. That she went from spending most of everyday with this little boy and now she’s missed out on two years of his life. Can’t believe Eddie kept him fro—

Mom, listen...

Supper goes well enough. Eddie never truly shakes loose the tension in his shoulders; he trades many looks with Isabel, seemingly spooked by his parents’ behaviour. He talks a lot more than he usually does, probably out of nervousness. But overall, they let Christopher take the reigns; they’re all more comfortable with that. It’s been too long since they’ve last spoken and Christopher is full of stories about his school and his friends.

“Buck says we can go to the Griffin soon. It was closed because of COVID. But before, I went with my class and they made a comet right in front of us!”

Buck. It’s the third time his name has been dropped at the table since they sat down.

She first met him, briefly, at Eddie’s graduation, but didn’t really register him as someone in her son’s life until Eddie and his crew stopped off in El Paso for dinner on their way home from fighting Texas wildfires. Buck had been cropping up in Christopher’s and Eddie’s stories for months by then and she was curious to properly meet him in person. He had seemed...young, she remembers.

“The Griffith Observatory,” Eddie corrects fondly. With Christopher, at least, it’s impossible for him not to soften.

Eddie’s only eaten half the pasta on his plate but Isabel seems satisfied. Helena bites down on the impulse to encourage him to eat more. To remind him he needs his strength to heal quickly for his little boy. She does lift the basket of garlic bread in his direction, because she can’t help herself. He eyes the basket warily as though he expects her to do more, but when she doesn’t, he shakes his head with a small smile of thanks.

“Yeah,” Christopher agrees, “it was cool but we didn’t get to stay long enough to see everything. And if we go later, Buck says we can see real meteors in the sky.”

Fourth mention.

“Christopher is on an astronomy kick,” Eddie adds redundantly.

“Wait, I gotta show you —” Christopher is sliding out of his seat before anyone can stop him and racing down the hall to his bedroom.

“Oh, honey —” Helena grips the arms of her chair out of reflex to jump up and help him — he doesn’t have his crutches, he’s only using the wall for support and he’s wearing socks — but Eddie looks over when her chair creaks.

He can’t really expect her to just sit here while Christopher—

Mom, listen…

They can hear Christopher make it to his bedroom without injury, so Helena slowly settles back in her chair and Ramon clears his throat. “He seems...okay. More okay than I would have expected.”

Eddie keeps his eyes on his father for a beat too long, assessing the comment for any hidden messages.

“He’s a resilient kid. Buck stayed here with him while I was in the hospital, so his routine wouldn’t get messed up. I think that helped a lot.”

Fifth ment— wait.

“Buck stayed with him?” The words — the tone — are out of her mouth before Helena can stop them.

On the shortlist of people she expected to hear stayed with her grandson to watch him and care for him, alone, while his father was in the hospital — Isabel, Pepa, Carla, or even Ana — Buck’s isn’t a name she expected to hear. A coworker — an unrelated man with no children of his own, over Christopher’s family? Over Christopher’s own aide? Over a schoolteacher?

Eddie’s jaw squares up and he sits up in his chair. Like light gray rain clouds suddenly turning dark, weighty with an incoming storm, a heavy tension builds in the air between them.

“Look!” Christopher exclaims as he rounds the corner, nearly throwing a thin, blue hardcover book on the table. Eddie catches it before it can slam into Christopher’s leftover pasta and sets it down on the table for him. “It shows all the things we can see in the sky over the whole year!”

Christopher climbs back into his chair and opens the book up to a random page, describing everything he seems to have nearly memorized already. By the time he reaches the upcoming meteor shower, the tension at the table has dissipated enough for Helena to excuse herself to the bathroom and not have it come off like a passive aggressive storm-off.

She washes her hands with soap pumped out of a fish-shaped dispenser that wasn’t here the last time she visited and trains her eyes on the basket of gauze, scissors and tape tucked away on the shelf above the toilet. That wasn’t there last time either.

Her baby boy was shot by a sniper. In LA.

A bullet tore through the body she created and almost took her son from her forever.

Mom, listen...

But only after she’d almost pushed him so far away he might never come back.

The tears well up again and she sniffs through them, blinking up at the ceiling until she’s back under control.

As she pivots to turn the light off, she spies a purple toothbrush resting on the ledge just above the sink. The other two toothbrushes are electric — one adult-, one child-sized — and stand on the counter.

—————-

Helena and Ramon meet the infamous Ana by accident.

When they leave Eddie’s house on Friday, Helena sends a text message to say what she couldn’t manage to say to his face — that they’re here for him, in whatever capacity he needs, that they’ll take their cues from him, even if that means giving him some space.

To that, she receives a, Thank you.

When she asks for the contact information of the therapist he had scoped out for them, she gets a phone call.

“Not to look a gift horse in the mouth,” her son says, “but are you just doing this because I got shot?”

“Honestly? Yeah,” she laughs mirthlessly. “I’m sorry to say it took our baby boy nearly dying to get our heads out of our ass.”

Eddie huffs a laugh on his end. “Well, I’ll take that silver lining.”

After that, Eddie invites them to a restaurant for brunch on Sunday, but when they reach his doorstep, they find it already occupied by a woman who’s just rung the doorbell, holding a casserole dish in her hands.

When the door opens, Eddie takes in the three of them, his eyes wide and apprehensive.

“Ana, I wasn’t expecting you,” he says, his eyes darting over her shoulder to his parents. He’s smiling, though there’s a clear strain in the corners of his eyes and mouth. They’ve been critical about Shannon for so long — and with good reason, nothing will change Helena’s mind on that — no doubt he’s expecting them to hate this new woman on sight.

“You’re Ana!” Helena exclaims with a wide smile, imbuing her voice with as much welcome as she’s capable. “Hi! It’s so good to finally meet you!”

When Eddie releases the breath he was holding, she knows she was on the mark. Ramon follows her lead and invites Ana to brunch with them on the spot and won’t hear her protests about intruding.

Eddie, of course, doesn’t protest at all but invites them in so Ana can store the casserole in the fridge — it takes both Ana and Helena’s organizational skills to find a spot for it among Isabel’s and Eddie’s tupperwares already invading all available space — and he can finish getting ready. He was already dressed in a nice polo and jeans but when he comes back from his bedroom it’s in a smart button-down he must have struggled with out of sheer stubbornness. Both his parents and his girlfriend are in the house and still he didn’t ask for help.

Eddie and Christopher decide to hop into Ana’s car and Helena asks loudly for directions to keep Ramon from insisting they should all ride together.

“So how long have you kids been seeing each other now?” Ramon asks when they’ve been seated at the restaurant.

“Nearly 7 months now, I think, isn’t it?” Ana replies, looking at Eddie with a dazzling smile — she truly is gorgeous. Eddie was still talking to them when he started dating her so they know she’s a schoolteacher turned vice principal but to meet her in person blows all their other expectations out of the water. She’s lively and sweet, patient and understanding, Latina — a big plus in Ramon’s books ironically. Eddie picked well this time.

Eddie hesitates a moment and nods. “Yeah, that sounds right.”

Every now and again, he squirms in his chair, like he can’t quite settle in and Helena wonders when his last painkiller was taken. But when he catches her face, she smoothes her worry out into a cheeky smile that says I like this one. He smiles back and there’s nothing she can pinpoint exactly but something about it makes her uneasy.

Eddie’s too quiet as they wait for their food, his face pinched, and just when Helena’s about to break, Ana does her the favour of asking gently, “Are you feeling okay? Do you need to take anything for your arm?”

But Eddie shrugs off her concern. “No, thank you. Next one isn’t until noon.” He taps his phone twice and she smiles.

“Sorry, I forgot. He’s got them all on timers with a special ringtone. He’s so organized,” she tells Helena and Ramon with a sunny smile, rubbing her hand down his good arm. “I have one multivitamin and I forget to take it half the time.”

“Buck set it up,” Eddie defers, and Helena schools her face not to react; even at brunch Buck is with them in spirit.

Ramon either takes no issue with the mention or doesn’t register it. He takes the opportunity to share how his new pharmacy pre-packages his heart and arthritis medications into AM and PM slots and Ana listens attentively. Eddie’s fingertip taps absently against the phone case until their food arrives.

Christopher ordered a waffle, and with Eddie indisposed, Helena is already moving to help him when Ana beats her to the punch again. Helena tucks a smile away as Ana leans over and starts cutting the waffle up into smaller pieces.

“He can do that,” Eddie says when he notices Christopher sitting back in his chair, realizing only when Ana startles that his tone is sharp. His voice is softer when he follows up with, “Right, buddy?”

“Yeah,” Chris agrees, picking up his own cutlery with enthusiasm despite his hands being nearly too small for them.

Eddie throws an apologetic grin Ana’s way and brunch continues peacefully, though the stiff line of Eddie’s shoulder never does quite soften.

Mom, listen…

————-

Their first therapy session takes place in Isabel’s kitchen at Eddie’s request. Isabel thinks it’s so he has the option of leaving when he needs to (in other words, when he gets fed up and runs) but Helena hasn’t missed how Eddie has been careful to keep them away from his home since the first day they saw him.

They’ve seen Eddie and Chris numerous times in the week and change they’ve been in LA — more than they’ve seen them since they left El Paso — but always outside of the house. Sometimes they pick Chris up from school, sometimes Eddie and Chris come to Isabel’s for supper, sometimes they go out to restaurants or other outings, but they haven’t been invited back to his home again. She wanted to believe it was because he was hiding the news that Ana had moved in but that’s been shot out of the water both by her ringing the doorbell and an errant comment at the end of brunch about how she hadn’t seen him since the welcome home party.

So it’s out of pettiness, then. Stubbornness. Out of pig-headed inability to accept that he needs help and willingness to believe that they’re making an effort to meet him on his own terms.

She tries not to let it rankle her, tries to find some of that resolute commitment to letting things be and not push. But the next thing she knows, she’s yelling about it to a stranger at Isabel’s island counter.

To be fair, the session with Dr. Jamieson wasn’t going great to begin with. It’s awkward as hell, the three of them balancing on stools, squished in next to each other to try to fit into the screen, but also trying to keep the laptop close enough to still hear her and not have to shout. It’s happening while Chris is at school so they don’t have to worry about keeping him distracted but they can’t exactly ask Isabel to go wait in the LA sun for an hour so she doesn’t overhear, so it’s basically a given that she’s the fourth person on this virtual couch from the next room over.

And beyond that, Helena has kept her mouth shut for over a week which is frankly more time than anyone would have bet on, including herself, and given the opportunity to express herself freely...well…

“You want space? We’ve given you nothing but space since we got here. How much more can we give you, Eddie? You’re hundreds of miles away from us already. Forgive us for feeling the need to check in on our only son who almost died last week,” she yells, her hand nearly colliding with her coffee mug as she gestures.

“Last week?” Ramon echoes with a bark of dark laughter.

“Oh, no, that’s right,” Helena picks up. “I’m sorry! Not a week ago! Nearly a month ago! Because apparently we don’t warrant even a text when our only son almost dies, but that’s not enough space?”

Eddie rakes his fingers aggressively through his hair, his lips pursed.

“We have to move to Mexico,” Ramon continues blithely. “Is that enough space? No, better yet! Sweden! Your family still lives out there, no? We can live on their farm. Completely different timezone, we won’t even be reachable.”

“Yeah,” Eddie bites back, a sour grin blooming on his face, “that’s what I want. I ask you to give me some breathing room — to respect me, my life — and you translate that into living in a fucking commune in Sweden. And you wonder why we’re in therapy. I can’t talk to you, you don’t listen!”

Mom, lis—

“Listen to what, Eddie?” Helena yells, getting out of her seat to pace. “Listen to the months of silence you’ve sent our way? Because we either get on board and blindly cheer on every mess you get yourself into or we don’t get to know you anymore? Don’t get to know our grandson?”

“I never kept him from you — you have our number, the phone didn’t ring. That’s not on me.”

“Because you would have picked up?” Ramon exclaims, pushing away from the island to better look back at their son. “Easy to claim when it’s after the fact in front of the doctor.”

“So now I’m a liar! You raised a liar?”

“I think we’ve gotten off-track,” Dr. Jamieson’s tinny voice interjects from the laptop.

In the bottom right hand corner of the screen, only Eddie remains in the frame.

————

Firehouse 118 was a lively crowd at Eddie’s graduation but it’s nothing compared to the party thrown at the Grant-Nash house in honour of a new probationary firefighter.

Dr. Jamieson pointed out the self-fulfilling prophecy that Eddie protecting himself from criticism and pressure by withholding details about his life in LA was leading to his parents’ growing insecurity over not knowing anything about their son and feeling the need to intervene more and more.

The solution? Let them in on his life and trust that they could hold themselves in check.

For that, even Ramon was in agreement that maybe therapy wasn’t a load of shit after all.

So here they find themselves welcomed into this beautiful and loud home nearly three weeks into their stay in LA. They were allowed to pick Eddie and Chris up so they arrive together but Christopher peels off immediately to find kids his own age.

It’s impossible not to feel the warmth of family radiating from every inch of the home so when Eddie’s shoulders seem to loosen a little as they walk in, Helena can’t find it in herself to begrudge him.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” a woman around Helena’s age drawls, crowding into Eddie’s space for a delicate hug he doesn’t hesitate to return. “Though I could have done without seeing another one of these for a few hundred more years,” she says, gesturing to the sling. “How much longer?”

“Another month if everything checks out,” Eddie says, releasing a sigh.

“It better,” she warns with a twinkle in her eye that says if she learns he’s been aggravating his injury there will be hell to pay.

The woman, they find out, is Athena Grant-Nash, wife of the 118’s captain and consummate host. While Eddie splits off “for a minute”, she leads them to the main area for drinks and introductions before leaving them to mingle. Captain Nash — Bobby — meets them with appetizers and introduces them to the Lees, the de-facto parental figures of the young man who just joined the team.

From the spot she claims at the edge of the dining room, Helena keeps an eye trained on Eddie outside. She feels an itch under her skin knowing it’s been nearly twenty minutes and Eddie hasn’t checked on Christopher, but she knows she shouldn’t go herself. Eddie can do everything on his own, right? He can look after his own kid at a party.

She can, however, go to the washroom and take a peek at what Christopher’s up to while she’s wandering, and that’s exactly what she intends to do.

But for now, she watches as Eddie criss-crosses through the crowds of the patio, prompting a localized burst of cheers at each stop as he reunites himself with teammates he hasn’t seen since the shooting. She recognizes the woman who was on the trip to Texas but the rest conjure only the vaguest memories of Eddie’s graduation and the occasional picture on Instagram — before he stopped posting that is. Just one more way they’ve been iced out.

But he seems happy, almost carefree in a way she realizes she hasn’t seen with her own eyes in...longer than this trip, actually.

Probably years, if she’s honest.

And it occurs to her, slowly, creepingly, that her son is outside, smiling freely and easily, surrounded by people he’s made his new family, while Helena stands inside watching his life through a glass window in a stranger’s house.

Mom, listen…

She swallows past the lump in her throat and sighs. Ramon’s arm comes around her waist and without looking at him, she knows he’s had a similar revelation.

Their next therapy session is in a few days, and they’re not going to fuck it up again.

There’s a late arrival to the party, one of the only people in Eddie’s life she can recognize — Buck. He’s as tall as she remembered but he looks a shade less young now maybe. He greets everyone with a hug or kiss on the cheek as he moves through the party, and bestows a cheer and an enthusiastic hug on Albert, the guest of honour.

When he moves on to the patio and approaches Eddie’s circle, however, the cheerful, long-awaited reunion of best friends she expects doesn’t happen. They catch each other’s eyes for a few beats and share a welcoming smile, then the conversation resumes as if nothing of consequence has happened. Buck doesn’t even linger long, heading back into the house after a few minutes.

When the cake starts being doled out, Eddie returns to meet them at the table and accepts the plate Helena offers him. Helena is scouting the yard for a chair he can sit on to eat when Buck reappears.

“He couldn’t be pulled away?” Eddie asks in surprise.

“Nope,” Buck replies with a grin before turning to them. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Diaz. Good to see you again!” Before they can return more than a smile, Buck continues, “he’s cheating at Unicorn Temple with Harry. Not even cake can pull him away.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and smiles. “My son is not a cheater.” To them, he says, “Buck thinks that whenever he’s losing at a video game, it’s because his opponent is cheating.”

“Not always! Just when they are,” he replies with exaggerated emphasis before scooping a piece of cake onto a plate. “I’m gonna go hide this in the fridge for him for later before it’s all gone.”

Eddie ducks his head and smiles down at his plate, and the questions are building up behind Helena’s teeth again.

Christopher’s been playing video games all this time? Is it an age-appropriate game? Why is Buck checking on your son? Why is Buck saving him cake when nobody asked him to? Why—

But Eddie looks up with an uncertain expression and says, “there’s a table out there if you guys want to join me.”

So Helena stows her questions and says, “that’d be great.”

They eat the overly-sweet cake in peaceful silence until Ramon casts an eye around and says, “you must be glad about the new firefighter. You won’t be the baby on the team anymore.”

Eddie snorts. “I’m 33 and my kid is nearly a teenager — and that’s totally not freaking me out at all,” he adds wryly. “Besides, I was never the baby of the team. Buck is younger than me and forever a kid at heart so I was never in any danger of it.”

“Oh god, don’t remind me that Christopher’s growing up,” Helena only half-jokes. “I can still barely believe he’s old enough to hold his own head up.”

Eddie huffs a laugh and Helena banks it as a win.

“Do any of your coworkers have teenagers?” Ramon asks. “Might have some words of wisdom to share.” Since you won’t ask us, is unspoken and politely ignored by all.

“Athena’s daughter May is just leaving the teen years now, but after her, Christopher’s the oldest. Harry, Athena’s son is 9 and Denny, Hen and Karen’s son just turned 8. It’s great for play dates but not for getting advice on what’s coming up unfortunately.”

“Karen,” Ramon echoes.

Eddie’s fork pauses on its way to scoop some excess icing off his cake and his back straightens.

“Hen’s wife,” he says curtly, daring.

Helena wants to roll her eyes at the posturing. It’s 2021, who cares who anybody loves. She knows Ramon doesn’t, not really, not anymore. It’s a 50-year-long reflex to make a comment, one they’ve been working, if only to have some semblance of a civil conversation with Sophia while she works through a degree in women and gender studies.

But she knows that excuse isn’t going to fly with Eddie.

It hasn’t flown since Eddie was 20 years old and realizing he’d lost a good friend to his father’s caustic words. And Helena can’t ever go back and examine the hurt in Eddie’s expression with fresh eyes. Shemanages to forget about it most of the time until something happens to dig it out of the cold, hard ground and shove it in her arms.

Mom, listen...

But she’s come to LA because she wants to be in her son’s life, in her grandson’s life and she can’t be a coward now.

“They’re a gorgeous couple,” she says, almost too loudly in her enthusiasm. “Are they thinking of having more kids?”

Eddie turns his assessing eyes to her and is mollified by her effort. “Yeah, they’re foster parents now. They’ve fostered three kids so far.”

“That’s great,” she says sincerely. Then, accidentally on purpose and only in part to bring Ramon back to a safe topic, she asks, “Does Ana want a large family?”

Eddie sees through her attempt, but nods. “Yeah, she loves kids.”

Helena doesn’t miss Ramon’s approving nod, or the dark look that passes over Eddie’s eyes when he catches it.

“Was Ana not able to come tonight?” Ramon asks.

“I didn’t ask her,” he answers, his voice a shade too casual. “This is more of a team thing.” As if they hadn’t just been discussing the other families all around them.

“That Ana—” Ramon begins but is interrupted by the arrival of Christopher with a hint of blue icing on his nose and Buck following behind him with two paper plates filled with cake.

Christopher sits backwards on the picnic table bench and uses his arms to lift his legs over while Eddie watches but doesn’t offer to help, and when Christopher is set, Buck places one of the plates in front of him with a plastic fork stuck in the top like a flag.

“Buck was finally able to pull you away, mijo?” Eddie asks as Christopher digs in.

“No, May took her room back so we can’t play on her tv anymore. Harry’s gonna ask his mom if we can play in her room.”

“Yeah...” Buck draws out, sharing a dubious expression with Eddie over Christopher’s head, “I wouldn’t hold out for that, bud.”

“Maybe you can teach the others how to play Scrabble!” Eddie suggests.

Christopher’s nose wrinkles, “Scrabble is boring.”

“Hey!” Buck protests and takes a forkful of Christopher’s cake in retaliation, which prompts Christopher to yell and attack Buck’s cake back, taking much more than a forkful.

The commotion draws attention to their table and Helena’s gearing up to tell Christopher to settle down when she catches Eddie’s eyes on her, waiting.

Helena looks back out to the backyard to say, People are staring.

Eddie looks back impassively as if to say, Let them.

Mom, listen...

Helena swallows her impatience, her anxiety, her embarrassment.

“Hey,” Buck calls, his mouth half full of icing, “did you take your 6?”

Eddie hesitates and that’s enough for Buck to swallow and look put out, already turning and lifting a leg out of the confines of the picnic table.

“Did you turn off your alarm again?”

“I didn’t turn it off the first time, I don’t know what happened.”

“What happened is it woke you up at 6am and you turned it off because sleepy Eddie makes bad life choices.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “You don’t have —”

“Right pocket?” Buck interjects, already walking away.

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs.

Christopher looks at him and shakes his head with exaggerated disappointment.

“Don’t you start,” Eddie warns, scooping a fingertip of icing and dabbing it on his son’s nose too quickly for him to duck.

Christopher shrieks and reaches for his cake fingers-first.

“Oh no, no,” Eddie laughs, catching Christopher’s fingers with one hand. “Truce, truce.”

Christopher doesn’t look interested in a truce and Eddie’s other arm is in a sling, so Ramon quickly pulls the cake out of Christopher’s reach, and then Buck’s abandoned piece and Helena does the same with Eddie’s.

“Not fair!” Christopher cries, still reaching.

“Your dad’s hurt, mijo, you can’t attack him with icing while he’s healing,” Ramon says reasonably. “Wait till he’s all better.”

“He’s fine!” Christopher declares with the confidence of a trauma surgeon as he tries to climb up on the bench.

Eddie’s not in a position to pull him back down and Helena doesn’t know how far they can take their non-interference but she’s not about to let her grandson hop over a table to fall into three plates of cake. She’s half-decided she’s going to pick up the cake and walk it back inside when Buck returns, depositing a glass of water on the table and a small white pill into Eddie’s palm before swooping in and tickling Christopher’s sides.

He shrieks loudly, gaining looks from all around the backyard, but it gets his butt back down on the bench and Buck sits back down next to him, boxing him in between himself and Eddie.

“What happened to our cake? How’d it get all the way over there?” The plates are very easily within Buck’s reach; it’s a question for Christopher’s benefit.

“Dad got me like you did!” Christopher cries indignantly, pointing to his nose. “I’m getting him back!”

“Oh man,” Buck nods seriously before his finger darts forward, swipes the icing from his nose and brings it to his mouth. “Mmm, this is better than the one I got you with. You sure you don’t just wanna eat it?”

Christopher looks unconvinced.

“How about this?” Buck ducks down to whisper loudly. “You call a truce with your dad, and then I’ll steal all his icing and we’ll eat it.”

The icing on Eddie’s cake is mostly piled in a corner of his paper plate. He’s never been able to stomach the pure sugary sweetness of store bought icing.

“Okay,” Christopher nods back, reaching out again for his plate but without making grabby hands.

Ramon assesses him for a moment before taking the chance to push the plates back within reach.

“Hey, Eddie,” Buck calls deliberately. “You should take your medication now.”

“Thanks, Buck,” Eddie replies with a smile that conveys an eyeroll. “I’ll do that now.”

While Eddie pops the pill and takes a very long drink of water, Buck “sneakily” pulls his plate towards them and scoops all the piled icing onto his own plate before pushing the cake back to Eddie’s side of the table.

Christopher laughs and pushes Eddie’s plate an extra few inches away out of spite.

Eddie plays the disappointed victim passably well with a half-hearted gasp and a shake of his head. “You little thieves.”

As promised, Buck doles out some of Eddie’s icing to Christopher who immediately protests at the amount left on Buck’s plate.

“Hey, when you’re a big guy like me, you get more icing. Keep eating your proteins and you’ll get there in no time.”

Christopher accepts that easily enough. “I’m gonna be tall like dad.”

Buck scoffs, “Aim higher, kid. Literally.”

“I am barely two inches shorter than you,” Eddie laments, not for the first time, it sounds like.

“It’s practically three. Are you really going to lie in front of your parents?”

Wouldn’t be the first time, is on Helena’s tongue because it’s been hours since she could speak her mind, but she holds it in.

“How was the trip from Texas?” Buck asks them suddenly, bringing them back into the fold of a scene they'd never left but somehow stopped being a part of. “Flights have new restrictions on them now, don’t they?”

Mom, listen...

When the party is winding down and they walk outside to the driveway, Eddie surprises them by offering them both a hug.

“Thank you for coming,” he says sincerely, though Helena hears the underlying “and behaving” and can’t help but bristle.

“Thank you for inviting us, mijo,” Ramon says; his turn to save Helena from herself.

And when Eddie lets them know he and Chris will be getting their ride back from Buck, Ramon takes Helena’s hand and they smile almost sincerely as they say their goodnights.

—————-

The next week happens to be Isabel’s 80th birthday and Helena and Ramon keep themselves busy by helping to throw a party that will reunite every vaccinated member of the family in the area (they’re not about to take a chance on Isabel’s health).

Things have been getting better with Eddie. They had a second therapy session, again at Isabel’s island counter, where they lasted a good 25 minutes before devolving into yelling. The next day, Eddie asked Ramon for a ride to physical therapy, and easily accepted his father’s offer of lunch after the appointment.

Then, when Helena asked if she could pick up some groceries for him and Christopher, she was refused — in no small part, she thinks, because he still won’t let them in his house — but instead of going off on him, she channeled that anger and resentment into nearly buying out Costco for Isabel’s party. It felt like progress Dr. Jamieson would be proud of.

That’s why, despite the party officially kicking off around 11am, they’re just past supper time and all tables and counters are still nearly buckling under the weight of the food. They’ll have to send everyone home with leftovers if the flow of people stops. Isabel’s front door has been a turnstile since this morning and Helena knows from experience it’ll likely stay that way until the late hours of the night. Most recently, Helena’s daughters made their appearance, and it’s not at all the reason Helena is back in the kitchen.

Despite coming from opposite ends with different travel distances, Adriana and Sophia arrived within a half hour of each other, a move Helena saw through instantly. The idea that her children coordinated to arrive together instead of risking the possibility of facing their parents alone sets a fire raging in her heart, and she realizes suddenly that she isn’t prepared to be hypervigilant of her every word with all three of her kids here now to push her buttons.

So, she retreats to the kitchen.

She doesn’t expect one of them to follow her in.

“I heard you guys were doing therapy,” Adriana volleys as she approaches.

Helena cracks open the tray of chocolate chip cookies and starts plating them, her face angled down so any kneejerk expression of distaste isn’t as visible. “Apparently, that’s what the cool kids do nowadays.”

“It is,” Adriana agrees, the bangles on her wrists clinking on the countertop as she reaches for the box of oatmeal cookies to plate. She’s a year into her Master’s in communication. What she intends to do with that is a mystery to them. So much of their kids’ lives are a mystery now. Helena closes the lid of the cookie tray hard and relishes in the snap of the plastic groove into the tongue.

“Paying a stranger to tell us when and how to talk to each other is cool,” she bites. It’s not posed as a question, just a bitter acknowledgement.

Adriana is quiet and Helena starts plating mini quiches onto the cookie platter just to stay occupied while her daughter walks away. Sophia is a yeller, she stands her ground and gives as good as she gets. Adriana, however, is a runner, just like Eddie.

But Adriana doesn’t leave in a huff. She turns to the counter and grabs a second platter, moving the mini quiches onto that one.

“It’s cool that you’re open to trying,” she says. “I think that, in any family where there’s love, there’s going to be hurt. And the longer we stay stuck in that hurt, the harder it becomes to talk about it without causing more. We get stuck in patterns that we can’t break out of, and people on the outside can be the best ones to point out those patterns and help you break out of them to get to what you actually, truly want to say.”

Helena knows what she actually, truly wants to say. That’s not the problem. The problem is that none of her kids want to hear it.

“I see a therapist,” Adriana continues. Helena stills and looks at her daughter, calmly arranging the mini quiches into concentric circles. “Since my last year of undergrad. When things got really hard and I couldn’t understand why. They helped me. A lot. Helped me figure out what was wrong and how to get myself through it.”

“You didn’t tell us,” Helena says, her voice thick.

“I know,” her daughter replies simply. “I didn’t know how. I’m telling you now because what I actually, truly want to say is that I’m proud of you and dad for doing this. And maybe if you don’t hate it...maybe we could try a session later too.”

There’s an offer in her daughter’s words, an open hand reaching out. But in that hand, Helena sees her failures as a parent, the judgement of the world for failing her kids, and she doesn’t want to reach her own hand out.

Mom, listen…

Helena looks at her eldest daughter, almost a stranger to her, with an entire life Helena is only starting to realize she has no part in. It hurts — it always hurts when the kids pull away but to realize she didn’t even know the extent of it...she wants to hurt back.

Mom, listen…

But she’s trying so hard to break those patterns Adriana speaks of. So instead, Helena thinks of the therapist’s advice leading them into a piece of Eddie’s life they wouldn’t have otherwise gotten to see and swallows past the indignation in her throat to reach down and find the words she actually, truly wants to say.

“You say when, and I’ll be there.”

———-

The sun is setting when Helena finally agrees to get off her feet and just enjoy the party outside while the cousins take over the serving and cleaning. There are four generations of Diazes gathered around but for the first time ever, most of the cousins are young adults, not teenagers, and it’s nice to be able to pass on the hosting responsibilities to them for a bit.

The sky is clear, the sunset resplendent from Isabel’s backyard, and the conversation is flowing easily. It’s a beautiful evening, warm with a gentle breeze cool enough to let her lean back against Ramon in his lounge chair, one of his arms wrapped loosely around her hip.

For the first time since getting Isabel’s text, Helena feels something like peace wash over her and she almost feels bad for the thrum of vindication in her stomach when she spots Eddie slumped comfortably in an armchair, his legs propped up on another chair.

He’s at home here.

Yes, he was at ease at his captain’s house but this is family, this is where he can really sink into the love and comfort and rest. With his aunts and uncles, cousins and sisters around to take care of him. And Christopher, who spent the afternoon running around and chomping down on all the sugar he could get his hands on, slumped against him, nearly asleep. This is family.

She knows he could find that peace back in El Paso, they both could. Eddie had friends there, and his parents, who knew his son better than he did for most of his life. And there are fires in El Paso same as there are in LA, but less smog, less general insanity.

But Eddie’s a lot like his parents, too much like them maybe, and once he’s decided on a course of action he can’t be swayed. So Helena has made peace with it. Rather, she’s made peace with pretending to be okay with it while she waits for him to come to the realization that he should move back.

And in the meantime, if they can mend this thorniness between them, then maybe she and Ramon can make more of these impromptu trips. Maybe even convince Eddie to come home for Christmas this year. At the very least, go back to regular video chats.

But all that ruminating feels far away right now. She’s moving gently with the rise and fall of Ramon’s chest, and she’s so close to slipping away to the feeling of contentment when a new arrival makes her open eyes she didn’t realize she’d closed.

“Feliz cumpleanos,” she hears someone say in half-decent Spanish from the front door on the other side of the side yard fence.

She doesn’t recognize the voice as yet another cousin or uncle, but Eddie shakes Christopher’s shoulder gently, and says, “hey, guess who’s here.”

It takes a moment, but the words penetrate Christopher’s sleepiness. His eyes pop open and he shimmies out of Eddie’s lap and into his crutches to power walk over to the gate just in time for it to open, admitting Isabel, holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers, and a sheepish looking Buck behind her.

“Buck!” Christopher yells.

Buck’s smile widens and he immediately opens his arms. “Hey, superman!”

Buck crouches down and Christopher throws his arms around his neck, crutches and all. When it’s time to break apart, Christopher’s still hanging on and Helena feels a stab of dark vindication at what’s about to happen, and the look Ramon sends her way tells her she’s not alone. Because Christopher is now officially in the double digits, and while he’s always been an independent kid, becoming 10 years old was a big deal for him and his perceived level of maturity, and apparently the year he decided no one was allowed to carry him anymore.

And now Christopher’s tired and in the grip of a powerful sugar crash. He’s not going to suffer any indignities, and Helena knows she should feel bad about not trying to stop Buck. About just watching this play out to see him be rejected. But she wasn’t expecting to see him here, in this safe haven of Isabel’s backyard, in this space for family and loved ones, and it rankles her. It feels like everywhere she turns in LA, she finds him there. And his being here is just another nail in the coffin of Eddie stubbornly refusing to let his parents back into his home. That he would call his friend to this party just to avoid letting them give him a ride…

So she’s a little bitter, a little resentful of the persistent, low-key rejection. Sue her. Eddie has made it clear he doesn’t want them interfering anyway so this is on him.

“Christopher,” Eddie calls, a warning to not make a scene.

Buck looks over Christopher’s shoulder and smiles. “He’s fine,” he says.

Then he’s heaving Christopher’s body up into his arms and onto his hip and Christopher…

...Christopher slumps down over Buck’s shoulder like a baby koala. No sound of protest leaves his lips. His face, if it shows any displeasure, is hidden behind Buck’s neck.

And when Eddie gets up, it’s not to intercede, it’s only to grab the errant crutches before they hit something, and to pull his own armless chair out for Buck to sit on because apparently Buck is staying, and apparently Christopher is staying with him.

“He’s a bit old to be carried around, no?” Ramon says with a bite, because he can’t help himself.

Eddie, who’s been watching his son fondly, barely bats an eye. “He gets cuddly when he’s tired, and Buck’s nearly the only one left who’s big enough to carry him.”

“Ah, that’s why you spend so much time developing these,” Pepa says with a sly smile as she pinches at Buck’s bicep. The same familiar pinch she gave her own grandkids’ cheeks.

“Gracias a Dios,” Isabel adds meaningfully.

“That was adrenaline,” Eddie dismisses with a teasing grin.

“That was 100 squats and 50 pushups a day,” Buck returns blithely. “...and maybe a little adrenaline.”

“What’s this?” Ramon asks before she can.

Instead of prompting more teasing, the mood falls slightly and everyone looks to each other.

Finally, Eddie sighs. “When I got shot, Buck army crawled under a ladder truck to get me out and lifted me into the truck to get to the hospital.”

It strikes Helena suddenly, shamefully, that in the shock of finding out they’d missed the event itself, the hospital stay, and two entire weeks of healing, that they’d never circled back around for details on what actually went down the day it happened.

She never thought to wonder how he got off that street. How he got to the hospital. Who might have saved his life.

And she wishes she were a better person then. Wishes that learning Buck saved her son’s life overpowered her irritation at having him sitting here in Isabel’s backyard like he belonged here when Helena herself barely felt like she did herself. It does help, though.

“They released the street footage of the shooting,” Pepa continues quietly. “It’s on YouTube. Before I even knew it happened, Marguerita from church just sent me a link saying ‘they said it’s a Diaz, do you know him?’ and I saw.”

The idea of her son’s shooting being passed around like a cat video makes Helena sick, but Pepa lamenting how she hadn’t known when she learned about it in a matter of hours and sat on it for weeks…

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” Pepa says decisively. “But they have an angle where you can see our Buck here go and get Eddie, pick him up like he doesn’t weigh a thing and get him into the truck to get to the hospital. Probably why he’s alive today. So gracias a Dios for those squats.”

Eddie and Buck are both looking away, both looking safely at Christopher while the table digests the news.

“If you were looking for a story of something really dumb, I can point you in the direction of another video of Buck,” Eddie says, his tone jovial but his eyes strained.

“You need to let that go,” Buck says in a definite whine.

“Do I?” Eddie asks. “Abuela did you see the video of the firefighter who went up the crane all alone?”

“Dios mío, Buck,” Pepa laments.

“Did you send it to me?” Abuela asks her, pulling out her phone and her glasses to check.

“No, mamá, it was an idiot firefighter but I didn’t realize it was the one we knew.”

“In the middle of an all-out declaration of war on firefighters,” Eddie begins, quietly for Christopher’s sake, but impassioned, sitting up in his chair, “this idiota and his squat count climbed up a crane ladder, completely exposed and defenseless—”

Buck looks pained. “I was wearing a bulletproof vest and a helmet. And that’s the job sometimes—”

“The paramedics’ job, actually, which you aren’t. So, no, that wasn’t the job.” Eddie’s tone edges into something darker without his meaning to. He takes a drink of his lemonade looking for all the world like he wished it was a beer. “And you know that or I wouldn’t have found out about it from Chim a month after the fact.”

Helena clenches her jaw tight and squeezes Ramon’s hand even tighter so neither of them can say, So you have a problem being left in the dark too?

“Buck,” Isabel sighs with disappointment.

Buck winces. “It was before— ” He cuts himself off, his wide eyes darting towards Helena and Ramon of all people.

“Hmm,” Isabel answers noncommittally, as if to end the conversation.

Just then, Sophia brings out a platter of bite-sized desserts, making the rounds of the whole circle for people to pick at before leaving it on the table. The opportunity to move on is there. That doesn’t mean they’re interested in taking it.

“Before what?” Ramon asks, his tone is forcibly casual.

The silence that greets Ramon’s question is heavy. Guilty. When Helena casts her eyes around, she’s greeted by stiff shoulders and a mix of apprehension shared between her son, her mother- and sister-in-law, and Buck.

Mom, listen...

“Before what?” Helena repeats, her voice uncompromising.

———-

The fight they have in Isabel’s guest bedroom is a Hall of Famer. It’s a screaming match, no doubt about it. The doors from the bedroom to the yard are all closed but there’s no question every member of the family — and Buck — can hear every word.

“Do you really hate us that much?” Helena demands. She’s crying but she doesn’t know if it’s heartbreak or fury, she just wishes it’d stop so she could lean into her anger. “Genuinely, honestly, Eddie.”

“I don’t hate you,” he protests, keeping his own voice down, making it seem like they’re irrational for their anger.

“Bullshit,” she spits.

“You must!” Ramon adds. “You hate us so much that you have to hate your sisters too? Your cousins? You would rather leave your only son to a stranger, some gringo coworker, than with family? That’s how much you hate us? Hate our name?”

“Our name?” Eddie shoots back incredulously. “What are you talking about, our name? We’re not royalty, papi, and Chris’ name would never change.”

“You would leave him to your coworker,” Helena stresses, disgust dripping from her tongue.

“To my best friend,” Eddie retorts, “who Christopher adores, if you haven’t noticed. And who adores Christopher right back.”

“That’s not normal, mijo,” Ramon warns.

“Jesus christ,” Eddie seethes. “Please do not star—”

“What kind of single adult man bonds with another man’s child like that?”

“You’re describing a tío, you understand that right? What, you think it’s weird that Pepa loves me like her own? You think Sophia should stay away from Chris too?”

“That’s family,” Helena argues.

“And they’re women!”

“Ramon, shut up,” Helena snaps.

“Buck is our family, and he’s a man, and he’s got the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met. If anything happened to me, Christopher would be taken care of like if I was still here.”

“Buck, the one who nearly got him killed in the tsunami? That’s the same guy right?” Ramon throws out, his eyes a little wild as he paces.

“The one who saved his life in that tsunami, despite being injured and then some. And the one who’s saved my life more times than I can count, including from being gunned down on the street. We’d both probably be dead if not f— ”

“Isn’t he the one who’s family is worse off than ours?” Helena recalls. “So he has no family, no support, no girlfriend even! So a worse position than you’re in now. That’s what you want to leave him with.”

“He doesn’t need a girlfriend to raise Christopher right, I don’t! And he has a great sister, he has the 118, he has Carla, and he has our family. You think Abuela and Pepa would shut the door on him? He’d be here every Sunday, with Christopher, just like I am.”

“And what does your girlfriend think of this?” Ramon presses. “The vice principal, she thinks this is normal?”

“Ana doesn’t have anything to do with this,” Eddie says, frowning.

Helena balks. “You think the woman you’ve been seeing seriously for nearly a year has nothing to do with long-term decisions about your son? You think maybe she wouldn’t want the option of taking Christopher in if something happened to you?”

“That’s not happening, he’s going to Buck and that’s final.”

“What’s going on with you and this gringo?” Ramon asks suspiciously. “Are you even going out with Ana or was that another lie?”

“Ramon, don’t go there,” Helena sighs, her heart clenching. That’s all they need in this clusterfuck, that layer of pain.

“No, let’s go there because you know what?” Eddie asks darkly. “There is no one on this planet I trust with my son more than Buck and yeah, if we need to lay it all out there, that includes the two of you. I know you love Christopher, just like I know Shannon loved him, but that’s not always going to be enough. Buck isn’t going to fill my son’s head with ideas about the wrong kind of way to love someone. He’s not going to tell him he’s not good enough for his family to love him or support him. Buck’s going to make sure Christopher grows up to follow his heart and find whatever makes him happiest in the world, no matter what that looks like.”

“How could you think—”

“What if he grows up to be gay?” Eddie asks pointedly, staring his father down. “You’re telling me you’re going to be the one to help him pick out a suit to go to prom with his boyfriend?”

Ramon purses his lips but tries, “it’s a different world now,” as if he hadn’t just tried to make crass insinuations just to hurt his son.

“Okay,” Eddie says, not believing him for a moment, “what if he’s trans? Tells you at 15 that he’s a girl and he wants to transition. You’re going to get him on hormone therapy?”

“Eddie that’s not—”

“What if he’s 20 and he tells you he got a girl pregnant by accident and he doesn’t know her enough to love her, and he’s not ready to be a father let alone a husband?”

Helena tries to speak but her throat is suddenly too tight for words to get out.

“You gonna tell him he’s not a man if he doesn’t marry her anyway?”

Ramon says nothing.

“Christopher is going to Buck, and that’s final.”

——————-

Helena and Ramon don’t show up for the third therapy session.

Their plane tickets were only for three weeks, originally, and as the days run out, they don’t talk about extensions.

———-

Helena is sitting out in Isabel’s backyard, trying to conjure up that feeling of serenity she got to bask in for all of two minutes the night of the birthday party.

It’s not working.

They’re going back to El Paso tomorrow, leaving their relationship with Eddie in worse straits than when they arrived.

There’s always been a tension between them and Eddie, but there’s also always been love and respect, and that love and respect formed a polite barrier around the things they couldn’t talk about. It kept their relationship safe. Kept them from getting too close to real honesty where things hurt in ways that couldn’t be walked back.

It feels now like that barrier has fallen. That Eddie’s finally reached the limit of what he could hold back and now there’s nothing to help them pretend everything is okay. Nothing to help Helena believe this is all something that could blow over.

That’s to say nothing of Christopher, who’s never felt as far away as he does now, even while they linger in the same city, only a couple dozen blocks away.

Helena scrolls listlessly through her phone’s camera roll for the last few weeks. There are pictures of Christopher mostly, but Eddie and the rest of the family are there too. It hurts to notice how Eddie is markedly happier in the shots where he’s looking away from the camera. Away from her.

Mom, listen…

Helena opens up Instagram and lets herself forget for a moment that anything is wrong. On Instagram, there is only joy and fun. And Buck.

Eddie hasn’t posted anything to his account in months but starting from the end and working backwards, Buck features heavily. He’s in at least a third of the pictures, usually with Christopher. One of the posts includes a short video that she watches. It’s of the day they unveiled the adapted skateboard, and it nourishes her soul. There’s no sadness here, or tension, only pure radiating happiness and excitement. It’s magical.

And it’s meaningful.

Mom, listen…

Helena is out of her chair and pocketing Isabel’s car keys before she can talk herself out of it. The drive to Eddie’s house is made with a carefully blank mind. She knows if she lets herself think about what she’s going to say, she’s going to spiral and get to a place where all this fear and sadness turn dark and ugly, and she can’t afford to risk it.

Finally, she’s knocking gently on a front door she’s only seen three times in the weeks she’s been here.

Buck answers the door.

————-

The house is quiet when Helena steps in.

She doesn’t bother taking her shoes off this time, she’s not sure how long she’ll be allowed to stay. But she notices that the space where her shoes would have gone is taken up by a pair of large boots she imagines fit perfectly on Buck’s feet.

Buck disappears into the living room and she follows quietly after him. The lights are off but the muted tv glows brightly enough for her to see Eddie reclined on his back on the couch, sleeping, and Buck sitting down on the edge of the coffee table to shake his arm.

Eddie’s always been a light sleeper, especially after the army and Christopher. He doesn’t wake easily now.

He’s wearing the sling, but it’s the only indication that anything is amiss with him. There’s no sign of pain or worry on his face, no tension in his shoulders. He’s practically melted into the recesses of the couch. He’s a picture of comfort. And why shouldn’t he be? He’s in his home, away from family, from expectations, and judgements. Just him and Christopher. And Buck.

Eddie finally takes a deep breath that shows his body is coming around but his eyes stay closed. Buck is murmuring something but she only catches, “ — mom — here.”

Then, at last, Eddie’s eyelids part, and the deep laxness of his body disappears almost in the blink of an eye.

“What?” he croaks, already trying to sit up.

Buck’s hands are already moving to support his back.

“ — says she wants to apologize.”

Eddie scoffs and sits upright, feet firmly planted on the floor as he blinks himself awake.

“Mom?”

“I’m here,” she says, stepping closer into the light of the tv.

Buck catches Eddie’s eye and they have an entire conversation in five silent seconds that ends with Buck nodding and getting up from the table, watching Helena warily as she approaches further.

“Watch your eyes,” Buck says quietly to Eddie before flipping the wall switch and illuminating the room. He lingers for a moment, clearly undecided about leaving, before saying, “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Finally, Helena is alone with her son in his home. The quiet is almost peaceful, she doesn’t want to break it. Eddie does instead.

“Buck said you wanted to apologize, so I’m assuming he misheard,” Eddie says wryly.

There are pillow creases on the side of his face and Helena can’t remember the last time she saw him look so disheveled, so at home. It makes her heart ache for the days when she’d have to force him out of bed at noon on weekends, drive him to wrestling practice early in the morning, watch over him as he slept sometimes, just to make sure he was okay.

“Shockingly, no,” she smiles sadly.

Eddie blinks up at her for a moment before shifting down on the couch, leaving her some room to sit. She takes the invitation, but once she’s sitting down with Eddie’s full attention on her, she realizes not preparing what she wanted to say might have been a mistake. She has no idea where to begin. What scab to pick at that won’t cause more bleeding.

Then she remembers Adriana’s words.

What is it, under all the posturing, all the hurt feelings, all the history and baggage...what is it she actually, truly wants to say?

“I’m sorry I missed therapy.”

Eddie huffs a surprised laugh. “Of all the things…”

“I know, I know,” she rolls her eyes. “But I am. I…” She forces herself to slow down and consider her words. “I realize that therapy was an olive branch for you. One we took way too late and I’m...I’m just so fucking grateful we were able to take it at all, in the end.”

The tears are coming and there’s nothing she can do to stop them. They gather in the corner of her eyes and she tries to blink them away but has to settle for wiping away the ones that fall anyway.

“You were right,” she says. “You said — and your sister said, and the therapist said — that there’s a lot of hurt, and it’s become too hard to...to connect with each other because of it. And therapy is probably the only bridge through that. So even though I was pissed at you, I should have showed up.”

She hazards a look up at Eddie to find his brown eyes wide and cautiously wondering.

“Therapy is what’s going to help us and the only way to fail at it is to not show up.” It’s what the therapist had said in their first session. It had sounded like an easy thing to do then. “And that’s not okay. I’m not going to do that again.”

Eddie nods and looks away. His fingernails are flicking nervously against each other — a habit he picked up from her. “Is dad on the same page as you?”

Helena takes a deep breath, and blows out, “No, your dad is looking for a match to light the page on fire.”

Eddie rolls his eyes but there’s heavy hurt behind the indifference.

“I hid all of them,” Helena offers, “and left Abuela with the fire extinguisher.”

That gets a small smile.

“I really expected you to be more pissed about it than him,” Eddie says, he reclines against the arm of the sofa but no part of him looks comfortable with this conversation.

“Oh, I am—” The rage swells up in her. The outrage and indignation. But again, Adriana’s voice comes to her. “I...am...really, truly hurt, Eddie. I feel...I feel like you told me I’m not good enough to love Christopher how he needs.”

Eddie’s face collapses with disbelief. “You mean the way you’ve been making me feel since he was born? Are you kidding me?”

“What?”

“Since the moment Shannon got pregnant, you’ve both been hammering it in on us that we’d never be enough, we’d never be good enough for him. Why do you think I joined the army? Why do you think Shannon ran?”

The accusation makes her breathless, it makes that familiar rage bubble up closer to the surface. “Shannon made her own choices, you’re not going to pin that on us. And so did you.”

“No, I can’t pin that on you. She did choose to leave,” he concedes, his voice hardening. “But you spent five years telling her over and over that nothing she ever did was good enough, and when I got back you did the same to me! ‘Don’t drag him down with you.’ Does that ring any bells?”

“I spent five years helping her, being a second parent to Christopher when she was in over her head. She needed help. She wasn’t cut out—”

“No, she wasn’t,” Eddie agrees. “Neither of us were. We were stupid fucking kids who barely knew each other. She was supposed to get back on a plane to California when the semester was done and instead we got married in the backyard because you told us that’s what we had to do.”

“Jesus Christ, Eddie. You want to blame me for Christopher being born? For raising him in a family with two parents?”

“You’re not listening,” Eddie spits.

“I’m listening to you say over and over how I ruined your life because I didn’t let Shannon get an abortion. And that’s somehow the reason to keep us out of Christopher’s life now?”

“No, you’re not—” Eddie closes his eyes and clenches his jaw. “I love Christopher with everything I am. If I had the chance to go back and do everything differently, I wouldn’t. I would never. Being his father is the most important thing I’ve ever done.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, I was a kid in over my head and my parents didn’t know what was best for me. Didn’t know how to help me. And I figured that out on my own, I grew up and became the man I am now on my own.” She wants to argue but he’s on a roll. “And that’s fine, no parent is perfect. I know I’m going to make mistakes and I hope to god Christopher can forgive me, so I need to forgive you yours. But I need you to see me, now. I need you to look at me and realize I’m not that kid you put in a suit in the backyard. I’m not the kid that signed up to get shot at instead of facing his life. I’m not that kid anymore, mom. I’m not.”

“I see that, Eddie.”

“No, you don’t. Because if you did, you wouldn’t constantly be telling me I need to move back to El Paso to take proper care of Christopher. You’d see that our lives are here now. I have a job I love and pays what we need. Christopher loves his school, his friends. He’s a popular, genius kid. He’s happy. I’m happy. And we’re doing good. But you don’t see that. You see that dumbass, scared kid making his next mistakes. And I’m sorry but I’m not going to let you drag me back into that spiral. If you need to be the parent to that kid, I can’t be the kid you’re parenting. I’ve grown up, mom.”

“So,” Helena clears her throat, hoping the waver in it will clear too. “That’s what the guardianship is? We...lost sight of you growing up. We didn’t give you what you needed. So you’re punishing us?”

Eddie sighs as if she didn’t understand.

“No, you know what? No, I’m sorry,” she switches tracks, her voice hard, “how are we supposed to see this new person you’ve become, Eddie? You left El Paso, left us behind, you won’t come home for holidays, you even stopped posting on Instagram, and when we come here to see you’re alive you won’t even let us into your home. So how? How are we supposed to see this magical transformation when you won’t let us in?”

Eddie watches her for a moment, weighing his words. “You show up for therapy.”

And that takes the wind out of her sails.

That’s what she came here for.

To apologize.

Not keep yelling.

Mom, listen…

Helena takes two deep breaths and crooks a smile. “Yeah.”

“You yell a lot.”

Christopher’s voice startles them both, pulling a short grunt of pain from Eddie as his shoulder jerks back. Christopher is leaning against the wall into the living room, wearing the disgruntled pout of someone who was woken up for no good reason.

“Christopher…” Eddie begins, trying to leverage himself off the couch.

Helena pushes him back down, and turns to Christopher, opening her arms.

“I do,” Helena admits softly, as Christopher comes over and leans into her side. “I do yell a lot. I’m...trying to yell less.”

“Dad never yells.”

Eddie smiles tiredly.

“Hmm,” Helena agrees, “I think there’s a lot of things I need to learn from your daddy.”

Christopher nods, his eyes drooping. “He’s the best,” he says, snuggling into her shoulder. She’s getting on a plane tomorrow so she takes the opportunity to relish in this hug, and press a long kiss on his curls.

“Ah, I thought I heard an escape artist on the prowl,” Buck says as he turns the corner.

“We woke him up,” Eddie says redundantly. “We’ll keep it quiet now, buddy.”

“K,” Christopher mumbles.

“Okay, buddy, let’s get you back to bed” Buck says quietly as he leans over to carefully scoop him into his arms. Christopher’s arms loop around his neck like he’s done it a million times, and his head falls to Buck’s shoulder.

“Buck’s the best too,” Christopher mumbles.

Buck’s ducks his face away.

“That’s what I hear,” Helena allows in a tone she hopes is gracious.

As they leave, they can hear Christopher say, “they stole your bed.”

Buck responds but it’s too quiet for them to follow the rest of the conversation.

Eddie ducks his head and sighs.

“That’s why you were keeping us away?” Helena asks, her voice more gentle than she thought she could muster at this point. “Because Buck’s crashing on your couch?”

Now that she’s looking, she spots the folded duvet stacked on the chair in the corner, the pillows tucked neatly below. It only makes her more aware that she found Eddie sleeping soundly on the very same couch.

“I didn’t — I didn’t want questions. I didn’t want dad’s look, the same look he has every time Buck comes up. The same look—” Eddie sighs harshly. “I didn’t feel like fielding questions. He was here for Christopher when I was in the hospital and when I came home… He helps. A lot.”

Helena nods pensively, and surprises herself by finding a kernel of gratitude towards Buck burgeoning in her chest.

“So, speaking of fucking up as parents,” she begins with a crooked smile that fades by the end of the phrase. She doesn’t know how to finish that sentence so she starts a new one. “The...hurt that piles up, that makes it hard to talk through...does some of it come from Matty?”

She can see an instinct flare up in her son to shake his head and dismiss the topic, but he doesn’t let it take hold. It’s time to face this.

“It didn’t help,” he admits.

Eddie and Matty met in sixth grade and became best friends almost instantly. They spent weekends in sleepovers, fought off other classmates to be each others’ group project partners, and spent every summer going to the same camps. Matty was an honorary Diaz before they even hit their teens.

Five years later, Matty came out to his family, and then to theirs. His parents took it well, Eddie’s parents didn’t.

The sleepovers stopped, the summer camps stopped, and if Ramon could have sent Eddie to another class he would have.

The day he came out to them was the last day he stepped foot in the Diaz home, a natural consequence of Ramon having run him out with caustic, angry words.

“We…” Helena licks her lips and looks away to gather her thoughts. “There’s a lot of reasons we reacted the way we did. Ignorance, more than anything. It really was a different world back then. But...the world has kept turning, things have kept changing and we can’t pretend to be ignorant anymore.” She looks Eddie in the eye to say, “we were wrong. We were wrong to chase him away. And if the day comes that Christopher is gay or trans or any of the other words we haven’t learned yet, we’re going to love him just as much as we do now.”

Eddie keeps her gaze for a moment before nodding. “I’m glad to hear it.” The way his shoulders gather near his ears says he doesn’t believe her though he’s trying.

Because when Eddie and Matty stood shoulder to shoulder to tell Ramon and Helena the news, Matty wasn’t the only one crushed. And they know, somewhere deep down, that their reaction was as extreme as it was because they were never fully sure if the hurt in Eddie’s eyes was on behalf of his best friend, or if they exploded before more news could be told.

And it still scares Helena to this day, to this very moment sitting on her son’s couch. It’s why they welcomed Shannon at first, the first girl Eddie really brought home, even though they didn’t approve of her overall.

But she knows now that there’s nothing anymore, not her pride, not her ignorance, that will stop her from trying to bridge the gap between them. So she continues deliberately, “and if this new, grown up version of you comes with any of those words, we’re not going to love you any less either.”

His eyes widen and for a moment she’s looking at her 17 year old son in the living room, eyes wide as Matty runs out of the house. She wishes this moment could replace that one, stamp out that mistake forever. But it can’t, so she has to make this one count even more.

“I’ll still be here, and I’m listening. I...I see you,” she says. “You and Christopher. I see you settled in so well here, even now with your injury.”

Eddie remains quiet, but apprehension creeps across his face and his eyes dart behind her where Buck and Christopher disappeared.

“I see the boots at the entrance,” she continues, her voice pitched low, “the extra toothbrush you forgot to hide away. The tupperwares full of food Isabel and Ana didn’t make. But more than anything, I see Buck. Everywhere.” A smile creeps up her lips. “The only place I didn’t see him was at brunch with Ana and call me crazy but I feel like you would have preferred he was there too.”

Eddie’s lip is being chewed to within an inch of its life, and his eyes are trained on the couch cushion.

“Hey,” she taps his knee. “You...grew up to be a good man, and a good father.” The words are so many years too late but she’s grateful to see them land as Eddie’s eyes begin to shimmer. “And you deserve everything you want for Christopher. Happiness, whatever that looks like.”

Eddie swallows thickly and clears his throat. “And dad?”

“Dad...has his head too far up his own ass to see or hear anything,” Helena admits. “But he’s due for a colonoscopy soon so I’ll work on it.”

Eddie chokes on a laugh that catches him off-guard and suddenly they’re both laughing, quietly so they don’t wake Christopher up again.

When they recover, Eddie invites her to the kitchen for a drink, where Buck is packing Christopher’s lunch for school tomorrow.

When she leaves, her stomach is in knots she imagines won’t smooth out for a few weeks yet, but a weight’s been lifted off her chest and her heart is full in a way it hasn’t been in years.

When she lands in El Paso, her phone pings with a message from Eddie: Hope you had a good flight. Free Friday for a call?

———-

When Friday comes, after catching up with Christopher, Eddie tells them he broke it off with Ana.

Helena digs her nails into Ramon’s knee instinctively, but she prepared him well and despite his continued reservations, all he says is, “That’s too bad, mijo.”

———-

Two months of virtual therapy and video chats later, Eddie tells them he’s bisexual. They react the way they should have all those years ago, and Helena tries to be grateful they got to have this moment at all instead of mourn for the years Eddie lost because of them.

There’s no mention of Buck, but Eddie’s eyes flit fondly over the laptop screen every once in a while at Christopher and someone else off-screen.

The call takes place at 8am LA time, and the sling has been gone for nearly three weeks.

———

At Christmas, Eddie and Christopher are waiting for them with smiles on their faces at LAX’s baggage claim. When they get home, Buck is there opening the door and helping them with their luggage.

Isabel isn’t there to mediate but supper that evening goes smoothly. The tension that lurks is anticipatory on all sides, a feeling of this being too good to last. But by dessert, everyone is sitting back in their chairs and smiling. And when Buck rounds the table to start the clean up, he places a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, his thumb brushing the back of Eddie’s neck, and Helena watches as the last bit of strain melts out of his body.

The basket of gauze is nowhere to be found in the bathroom, nor is the purple toothbrush. Instead, there’s a third electric toothbrush standing in line with the rest.

Helena’s been keeping an eye out for opportunities to follow Adriana’s advice. To find the words she actually, truly means, and say them before she runs out of time. So before turning in, she takes Eddie aside and tells him, “I’m really happy you found your home here in LA. I’m really proud of the family you’ve made.”

And when she closes her arms around him, she can feel him fold into her like he used to as a kid, no polite distance or anxiety. Just comfort.

#buddie #buddie fic #helena diaz #eddie diaz #evan buckley #christopher diaz #my fics #my posts #y'all I struggled so hard to get this up before the premiere #please understand I woke up at 7am on a Sunday to get it done #my soul is weary #i hope you like them #omg I'm so sorry I forgot the readmore originally #it's up now

142 notes · View notes

namjoonfluff · 4 years ago

Text

Homemade

pairing: Jungkook x Reader

genre: fluff, smut, you cook Jungkook his favourite meal and he fucks you to say thank you

word count: 1,300

note: I’m not great at writing smut but I felt like this needed it aha

masterlist linked here

Things have been pretty stressful lately! Jungkook was working at the studio more than normal - spending twelve hours most days or maybe even longer practising his performance. He wouldn’t get back to the apartment you shared until one in the morning most days, by which point you were tucked up in bed deep in sleep. Quietly, he would creep around the bedroom and shuffle under the blankets to cuddle you while he could. After all, it wasn’t all Jungkook’s fault. You were also working as a nurse in the local hospital. Maybe two hours after he settled into bed, you were up and out of bed to head off on your 4am shift. Both of your work schedules were horrendous but somehow, you made it work!

You just missed the nights you climbed into bed together; watching TV, eating food, having sex… God it had been a while! You couldn’t quite remember the last time Jungkook had fucked you properly. You know, the kind of sex that has you thinking about it for days and days afterwards. The type which had your body fluttering every time your mind flashed back to those intimate moments! Unfortunately, even when you both made it home in time, the last thing either of you wanted to do was strip off and fuck like you used to. Neither of you had the energy most days to even make dinner, let alone have sex. You instead resigned yourself to takeout food and quick snacks before crashing on the bed. The most you would get is a passionate kiss and potentially a fondle of your breasts before you both hit the hay.

However, on the odd day off you had, you decided to do something special for Jungkook. He was so stressed out with tour preparations so you wanted to cheer him up. You knew the only way to Jungkook’s heart and that was, of course, food! Therefore, you decided to make him a special dish; one that he had confessed to loving at the beginning of your relationship - Kimchi Jjigae. As a non-native of South Korea, you were worried though. You really didn’t want to screw this up! Therefore, you had studied the recipe from a number of Korean recipe blogs and YouTubers.

About an hour before Jungkook returned home from practise, you rushed out to the local grocery store to grab everything you needed. There wasn’t much to the simple stew but from what you had read, it was a comforting staple of Korean cuisine. That was exactly what he needed right now - as well as yourself. The two of you worked to the bone with little rest. It was one of the qualities that had brought you together. You loved his dedication to the band and he felt exactly the same way about you and your work. However, you recognised the balance between work and play, knowing how important it was to relax for your mental health. If only he did too!

With everything in hand, you laid it out on the kitchen counter and grabbed the jar of Kimchi that Jungkook’s mother had prepared weeks ago. All of a sudden, you felt overwhelmed. The sudden self imposed pressure to create an authentic meal bubbled up inside of you. What if he hated it? Wouldn’t that just ruin his day? Despite your fears, you proceeded with a huff. It was going to be okay! Your hands moved quickly to follow the instructional video in front of you. You carefully marinated the pork while the Kimchi cooked in a pot on the stove. A little laugh left your lips when you noticed the pot still had a sticker on it from the store - clearly unused despite living together for a year now.

It wasn’t long before the whole apartment was filled with the scent of spices. At the strong smell of garlic and chilli, you nodded in approval. A sense of pride filled you seeing the stew bubbling on the oven. It looked good to you, at least. In fact, it wasn’t that dissimilar to the pictures you had found online. You just hoped Jungkook liked it!

“Baby!” You heard him call as he opened the front door. “Wow! What is that smell?” Tempted by the smell coming from the kitchen, you heard Jungkook rush into the space - chucking off his shoes and throwing down his bag as he went. He wrapped his arms around your waist and peered over your shoulder. “Is that what I think it is?” He gasped. At the sight of his favourite dish, his eyes lit up. The often tired and almost dull-looking brown orbs now filled with a warm, gooeyness that could only be compared to melted chocolate.

“Yup!” You said proudly, holding a stew-soaked wooden spoon to show your true chef abilities. “I made it!” In the moment, he had never looked more in love with you. His grip around your waist and the chin on your shoulder felt tighter - as if he never wanted to let you go! You almost felt embarrassed at the way he gazed at your face, beaming with a shared pride. It was like something as simple as cooking his favourite meal was the kindest thing he had ever experienced. And you were so pleased to be a part of that moment. With the sauce blended, you served up the stew into two different bowls. Jungkook still refused to let go of you so he remained a clingy shadow on your back. If this hadn’t been the first time you had felt his embrace properly in weeks, you would have shrugged him off. But it was so relaxing to feel his warm breath on the back of your neck. The scent of his cologne also lingering in the air - almost overtaking the smell of stew.

“I don’t want to let go!” He giggled into your ear.

“But we need to eat,” You pouted, picking up the bowls of stew. With Jungkook refusing to let go like a koala bear, you ended up dragging him to the dining table. Not only had you put together the Kimchi Jjigae but there was a variety of side dishes available; it was truly a feast!

After a few minutes of slurping and chewing, you asked: “So, how is it?”

“It could do with a little more seasoning,” He smirked, pointing at the bowl of stew with his chopsticks.

Despite his joke, you felt a little downhearted by his words. After all, you had tried hard to get the dish as authentic as possible. “I’m joking,” Jungkook smiled reassuringly. “It’s really good. Are you sure you aren’t Korean?” You let out a laugh. “I’m pretty sure!” “What did I do to deserve you?” He let out a gentle sigh. Shortly after finishing your meal, you both got up to wash the dishes. However, Jungkook had other things on his mind. While you’re running the bowls under water, he pressed his body against yours. A finger clasped onto the loose strand of hair falling onto your chest and moved it back, exposing the skin on the side of your neck. Without saying a word, Jungkook hovered his lips over your skin and began lightly kissing the area.

“I think the dishes can wait until tomorrow,” You could feel his lips form a smirk as they were still pressed against your neck. “I have something else in mind.” “Oh, you do now,” You raised a brow, not that Jungkook could see it because he was too busy peppering your chest with kisses now.

“You made me a lovely dinner,” He whispered against your collarbone. “Now, let me show you what I can do for you!”

Not being able to resist his words, you dropped the bowl into the soapy water and flipped in Jungkook’s arms. He almost looked shocked when your hands wrapped around his neck and lips connected with his immediately. His lips were soft and welcoming like a bed you couldn’t wait to dive into. And in the same way, Jungkook used his large hands to remind himself of each body curve. The moment his fingers connected with your lower stomach a spark was ignited; there was no way to control it. It had been so long since you had experienced such passion that you were moaning against his mouth already. For the first time in a long time, you wanted him to fuck you right there on the kitchen counter. It just goes to show what a good meal can do!

It’s not long before Jungkook’s hands were all over you; tearing off your tank top and pulling at your bra to release it. There you sat atop the kitchen counter with your breasts exposed to your boyfriend who just licked his lips. However, with just your skin exposed, you felt left out. You wanted to see Jungkook - all of him. Quickly your hands plucked the buttons off his shirt and peeled it open to worship his muscular chest and complexion.

“Fuck!” You moaned, seeing his chest heaving up and down.

As he watched you eye-fuck him, it turned Jungkook on even more then he already was. That’s why his plump lips were quick to start teasing at your chest, touching and biting your skin while his hand reached the top of your jeans. His hand gently slipped down to start slowly massaging your throbbing vagina. Jungkook knew exactly what he was doing when he rubbed your sensitive clit with his thumb; going round and round in circles to get your breathing heavy. He made sure to take extra care around your clit because that was a sure fire way to make you cum quickly.

“You’re so wet,” Jungkook whispered. “So wet for me, baby!”

It wasn’t long before the orgasm inside you was released. The legs wrapped around Jungkook’s waist were shaking and toes curled as you moaned through the pleasure. No one could make you cum better than he did. He always did everything just right!

“Fuck, Jungkook!” You breathed heavily. “I want you to fuck me!”

Feeling the wetness soaking through your underwear, you waited with anticipation as Jungkook took off his pants and exposed his cock. It was glorious, glistening with pre-cum as it rested on his stomach. With one quick and fluid motion, he dragged you closer to him on the counter. Jungkook needed to line you up perfectly with his hard cock so he could fuck you in exactly the right place. He gently slid across your panties and pushed his thick cock into your wet pussy. You were so ready for him, your core immediately coating him with your cum. You moaned as he entered, feeling his length completely stretching you out - as if it was the first time all over again.

“Feels so good!” He moaned, pounding his member in and out of you. “Tell me how much you love it!”

“Love your cock,” You reciprocated a moan. “Love how it stretches my pussy!”

After a few more powerful thrusts, Jungkook released his load inside you. He looks completely exhausted as you both flop together and share a moment of complete and utter silence. All you could hear were the heavy breaths falling from your mouths as you recovered from the pleasure. You wanted to stay in that moment forever. It would be nice to forget about all the responsibilities you both had and just fuck all day. Once you leave the post-sex haze, you feel Jungkook poke the end of your noice and say: “I fucking love you, you know that?” You nodded with a smile. And you couldn’t help but think you needed to make Kimchi Jjigae more!

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #bts fic #bts army #bts fluff #jungkook fiction #jungkook au #jungkook x reader #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #btsfanfic #jungkookfic #jungkookfluff #jungkook smut #bts smut

634 notes · View notes

blueotterkitty · 3 years ago

Text

Souyo Secret Santa 2021

Hi @harenchiou, I was your Secret Santa this year!

The prompt I wrote for was "Yosuke working his Junes shift on Christmas, Yu thinks of an elaborate heist of sorts to whisk Yosuke out of his shift. Can be funny and silly, bonus if Yosuke doesn't know it is Yu."

Thanks for being patient while I finished your gift! I loved this prompt so much it got a little away from me, lol.

Hope you enjoy this story! Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! ^_^

@souyoweek2020

All of the Other Reindeer

Yosuke has resigned himself to working the Christmas Eve shift at Junes, but Yu has a plan to get him out of there.

Ao3

Yu had been thinking about what he wanted to do for Christmas Eve with Yosuke pretty much ever since he and Yosuke had gotten together that summer. He had been planning the surprise for a while now, but his plans had been foiled by short staffing forcing Yosuke to work the Christmas Eve shift at Junes. That was okay, though. That just meant that Yu had to plan an even bigger surprise to get Yosuke out of Junes and whisk him away on a Christmas Eve to remember.

He definitely had his work cut out for him in this operation. Yosuke would be surrounded by frustrated last-minute shoppers, in a department store, on Christmas Eve. But Yu had a plan. Breaking Yosuke out of Junes and avoiding the holiday mob would be significantly easier than navigating a dungeon full of Shadows. And Yu certainly had a lot of experience with the latter.

Step one of Yu's plan had been successful: obtain a Santa costume so he could sneak into Junes without being detected. Now Yu was outside the store, ready to execute the next part of his plan. He took a deep breath, and stepped into the artificial holiday-scented air and fluorescent light.

He easily weaved his way past people exchanging shopping carts and into the grocery section. This was where Yosuke had said he would cover that night. But he wasn’t anywhere in sight among the crowds. Where could Yosuke be?

Yu heard a group of familiar voices and turned a corner to find Yukiko, Chie and Naoto in front of the baking supplies.

"A Christmas cake is supposed to have spice. It should be like gingerbread!" exclaimed Yukiko, waving a bag of chili ginger powder at her two companions.

"No, it should be super sweet and rich. That's why we need cream!" Yu noted that Chie was actually holding up a bottle of garlic cream sauce, not heavy cream. Maybe she was aware of this fact, maybe she wasn't. He wasn't sure which possibility scared him more.

Naoto just shook his head, face in his hands. “Can we please just follow the recipe for once?”

"Naoto’s right. Stick to the recipe," Yu chimed in, stepping up behind the three.

"Thank you, finally someone understands me - Santa?" Naoto exclaimed, apparently genuinely shocked.

“Actually, it's just me,” said Yu, pulling his beard out of the way so they could see his face.

“Senpai?” Naoto blinked quickly. “Right, I knew it was you. What are you doing here? I thought you were spending the evening with Yosuke.”

“That’s actually why I’m here. Have you seen him anywhere?”

Yukiko and Chie shook their heads.

“This place is completely swamped. I wouldn’t have seen him even if I was looking for him,” said Chie.

“I think I saw him towards the back,” said Naoto. “It wouldn’t surprise me if they had him running around covering different areas with how busy it is tonight. Good luck getting him out of here.”

“Great. Thanks,” said Yu, adjusting his beard and starting to head towards the back of the store. “Also, I won’t try whatever you’re making. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas!”

It was surprisingly difficult to get through the holiday crowds. Little kids kept stopping Yu to tell him what they wanted for Christmas and parents kept trying to take pictures of him and their kids. Maybe this Santa disguise wasn’t as clever as he had thought.

Eventually, however, Yu made his way to the back of the store, where he quickly spotted Rise and Kanji in the electronics section. They were flipping through boxes of CDs and records, clearly trying to pick out an album for a last-minute gift.

Kanji was deep in thought, but when Rise spotted Yu, she immediately waved him over.

“How did you know it was me?” Yu asked.

“Come on, senpai, I’d recognize you anywhere, even with that fake beard.” Yu doubted that. Though he was biased, as he was very proud of what he’d found at the costume shop on such short notice.

"Have you seen Yosuke anywhere? Also, who’s the gift for?”

“Oh, you know, no one in particular. Just browsing if there’s something anyone would like.”

That meant Rise had no idea what she was doing. Which meant that it was a gift for Naoto.

“Naoto likes jazz,” Yu said.

“See, I told you, Rise,” Kanji exclaimed, looking up from the stacks of CDs. “The only thing he listens to is smooth jazz.”

“Well, I never said that he didn’t like jazz, just that he could stand to expand his musical horizons a little.”

“You just want him to listen to your album, don’t you?”

“Okay, maybe I do,” said Rise with a shrug.

“But let’s forget about that for now. We have much more pressing matters!” Rise turned back to Yu.

“Yosuke-senpai was here in the electronics section earlier. But then I saw him talking to someone who sent him off in that direction.”

“Over there?” Yu looked where Rise was pointing, but he couldn’t see beyond all the people in the way.

“Yep, somewhere over there. I didn’t catch the rest, just that they needed backup in another department.”

“Thank you, Rise. At this point I don’t know if I’ll actually be able to get there, but I appreciate it.”

“Don’t be so down on yourself, senpai! If anyone can save Yosuke’s Christmas Eve in a stupid holiday costume, then it’s you,” said Kanji. Yu decided to take that as a compliment.

“Yeah, exactly! Get out there and get him, senpai!” Rise pushed Yu forward through the crowd.

“Merry Christmas, senpai!”

Rise’s initial push carried him a good way forward, but soon enough, Yu was getting questioned and pulled around the store once again. Getting to his partner seemed more and more hopeless with each passing moment. He had completely forgotten what direction Rise had pointed him in when a small hand reached up and tapped on his shoulder.

“Santa Claus?” Yu turned around. It had gotten to the point that he was actually starting to respond to the name now –

“Nanako!” Yu was grateful to see another familiar face. All of Inaba really was out shopping that night.

“Big bro! Why are you dressed up as Santa?”

“It seemed festive.”

“It is! But you shouldn’t pretend to be Santa when you’re not actually him. What if the real Santa shows up and people get confused?”

“Kid, I thought you and Yosuke had plans for tonight. Why are you here at Junes?” Dojima was there beside Nanako, carrying a basket full of groceries.

“That’s part of our plan. I’m here to pick him up, but I can’t find him anywhere.”

“I see…” Dojima looked over Yu’s Santa costume, frowned, and shook his head. “Just try not to get into any trouble.”

“Wait, you’re looking for Yosuke?” Nanako asked. “I’ve seen him! I’ll help you with your Important Holiday Plans, big bro!”

Nanako grabbed Yu’s hand and pulled him after her down the aisle, yelling “We’ll be right back” to an amused Dojima as they ran by.

“Sorry, we can’t talk right now! We’re on Very Official Santa Business,” Nanako said to everyone who tried to stop them as they moved through the store. The holiday crowds couldn’t help but part before them. No one was going to get in the way of a determined little girl and her Santa Claus on Christmas Eve.

In no time at all, they were at the very back of the store, right next to the gift-wrapping counter. It was sheer chaos. The line was wrapped around an aisle and the customers were putting products on the counter faster than the employees could wrap them. No wonder Yu couldn’t get back here by himself.

But Yu quickly spotted a brown-haired teen leading the group of Junes employees behind the counter. Yosuke was running around the small space, encouraging the workers and showing them how to properly wrap gifts. Even from here Yu could see the bags under his eyes, and he would stop every few moments to drink from a thermos. Knowing Yosuke, it was probably an energy drink mixed with coffee. Yu had to get him out of there.

“Here he is! I hope you can help him out.”

“Thank you, Nanako.”

“No problem, big bro! Merry Christmas! Make sure you tell Yosuke Merry Christmas too!” Nanako disappeared into the crowd in the way that only little kids in a grocery store were able to do.

Now that Yu knew exactly where Yosuke was, he needed a way to get Yosuke out of his shift. Yosuke had told him that it was going to be busy that evening, but he had underestimated just how busy he’d meant. Yu hadn't even known that this many people lived in all of Inaba. He couldn’t just steal Yosuke away from his work without someone to take his place. He needed someone to replace him, and fast. Luckily, Yu knew just the person - well, bear.

He spotted Teddie at a table of holiday-themed baked goods, carefully weighing two bags of cookies in his hands.

Yu tapped on Teddie's shoulder. He jumped.

“Santa? You’re a bit earlier than I expected.”

"It's me, Teddie," said Yu, pulling down his beard so Teddie could see his face.

"Sensei!" Teddie bear hugged him, almost knocking Yu over.

"Wait, what are you doing here, sensei? Thought you had a hot date planned with Yosuke tonight." Teddie winked, elbowing Yu in the shoulder.

"That’s why I’m here. Did you not see Yosuke over there?"

"Oh. Right. He wasn't able to get out of work tonight. Unlike this bear right here!" Teddie exclaimed, pointing to himself enthusiastically.

And yet you’re still here at Junes anyway, Yu thought.

“Teddie, could you help me with –”

“While you’re here, which kind of cookie should I get? Gingersnap or snickerdoodle?” Teddie held up the bags for Yu to see.

“Teddie, please –”

"You're right, I should just get both! I'm definitely going to eat them all anyway."

"You should wait until the post-holiday sale," said Yu, finding himself swept up onto Teddie’s train of thought.

“Sensei, you're a genius! That way I can get four bags of cookies for the price of one!”

Yu sighed and continued his attempts to steer the conversation back on course.

“Look, Teddie, I have a favor to ask you. Could you please help me get Yosuke out of his shift tonight?”

“Tonight? You mean you want me to switch shifts with Yosuke tonight? Like right now?”

"Tonight is Christmas Eve.”

“Well, duh, I know it’s Christmas Eve or whatever you call it! That’s why it’s so busy here,” said Teddie. “Uh… what is Christmas Eve for?”

“It's a day that you spend with the people you love and care about most. And I care about all of you a lot. But this day I was planning to spend with just Yosuke. I've had a surprise date planned out for a while and I –”

"Say no more, sensei! For the low, low price of fifty Topsicles and three hot chocolates, I will help you in your grand holiday quest to score with Yosuke."

"That's not what I'm - nevermind. You got it." Yu didn’t have time to haggle with him.

"Alright, consider it done! Also..." Teddie gave Yu his best puppy eyes. "Could you please buy me these cookies?"

"Yes," Yu said with a sigh. To be fair, he did have a lot of money from clearing out dungeons inside the TV. "But not until tomorrow. The line is out of control right now."

"Of course! Did I ever tell you how much I love you, sensei? Merry Christmas!" Teddie bounced up and down, hugging Yu tightly before running off in the direction of the gift-wrapping counter.

Yu watched as Teddie snuck up on Yosuke with a mighty bear pounce, sending the wrapping paper he’d been carrying flying through the air. Yosuke swore, but didn’t immediately shoo him away. That was a good sign. After they picked up the wrapping paper, Teddie whispered something in Yosuke’s ear and Yosuke punched him in the shoulder, blushing.

Yosuke and Teddie argued back and forth for several minutes. Eventually, Yosuke seemed to have given in to Teddie's demands, throwing his hands in the air and stepping back from the counter. Teddie fistpumped, then immediately put on an apron and started ordering employees around.

Yu quickly went to the break room to wait, leaning against a wall. Not long after, Yosuke came in. He opened a locker, took off his apron and stuffed it in. He grabbed his backpack, taking out his winter coat and headphones and putting them on.

Then Yosuke saw Yu. “Uh… I don’t remember Junes hiring a Santa this year. Plus, aren’t you a little short for a Santa Claus?”

Yu smiled and winked.

Yosuke frowned in that adorable way where he was still processing what was going on, but knew enough to be able to pretend that he had an idea and was going to do something about it.

“Okay? Wait, I think I saw you around earlier –”

Yu turned and walked away down the back hallway. Yosuke’s footsteps followed close behind him.

They went out the back door into the cold, dark evening. Yu stopped under a streetlight.

“Wait, who are you? How did you know about the back way out? I don’t have time for this –”

Yu stepped forward and gave Yosuke a small box tied with an orange ribbon. Yosuke stared at the box, then looked back up at Yu.

“Uh, okay? Thanks, Santa?”

Yu took off his beard and mustache. Yosuke’s eyes widened.

“Dude, seriously?! It was you the whole time?” He started laughing. Yu couldn’t help but laugh too. “I was actually - people were telling me there was this guy dressed as Santa helping out customers and little kids and I was like – I was totally willing to believe anything at that point, even that it was the – the real –”

Yosuke doubled over, shaking with laughter.

“Of course it was you!”

Yu stood there with Yosuke until they both stopped laughing.

“So you convinced Teddie to trade places with me so we could spend Christmas Eve together? That’s pretty impressive. Thank you.”

“Of course, partner,” said Yu.

Under the streetlight, snowflakes drifted down from the sky. It had started to snow while they had been inside Junes, and now the snow glistened, forming a shimmering layer over the sidewalk. Christmas lights around the neighborhood glowed in vibrant colors. They watched as a winter wonderland slowly developed around them.

“Whoa. It wasn't snowing when I went into work today. The weather said it wasn’t supposed to.”

“Maybe it's snowing just for us,” said Yu.

Yosuke laughed, face turning red. “You're such a sap, partner.”

Yu turned away, hiding his own reddening face.

“You can open my gift now, if you want.”

Yosuke nodded and opened the box. Inside was a silver bracelet with two charms: a frog and a cat.

“Oh, it’s us!”

Yu nodded, grinning.

“This is really cool. Thank you so much, Yu.”

Yosuke hugged Yu tightly, squeezing him close. Yu wrapped his arms around him in return and pressed his face to Yosuke’s shoulder. He smelled like cinnamon and pine needles, like real holidays.

“Do you want to come over to my place?” Yu asked. “We can make hot chocolate and have the Christmas cake I baked. And sit under the kotatsu.”

“Yeah, that'd be awesome!”

Yosuke pulled away. “Oh yeah, I also have a gift for you that I’ll give you later.”

“I have something else that I can give you right now,” said Yu, draping his arms around Yosuke’s shoulders and slowly leaning in towards him.

“And what would that be?” asked Yosuke, hands drifting down to hold Yu’s waist.

Yu put his Santa hat on Yosuke’s head. Yosuke glared at him.

“You’re a really annoying Santa, you know that?”

Yu laughed. “Hey, if I'm Santa, would you like to be my reindeer?”

"Doesn't Santa have a whole bunch of different reindeer? Makes me feel real special, partner."

"No, because you'd be Rudolph, and he's the most important reindeer of all. Santa couldn't go anywhere if he didn't have Rudolph."

"Hmm, I guess you could say that Santa and Rudolph are partners, then."

“I think so too.”

A gust of wind swept through, blowing snowflakes through the frosty air.

“Brrr, it's getting super cold.” Yosuke shivered, rubbing his arms in an attempt to stay warm.

Yu took Yosuke's hand and intertwined their fingers.

“We should hurry back to your place before the snowstorm gets worse,” Yosuke said quickly, squeezing Yu's hand. Yu nodded. He was wearing warm clothes beneath the Santa costume, but he was still pretty cold.

“And, uh... thanks again for getting me out of work. I don’t even wanna know how much you had to bribe Teddie to take my place. I just hope he’ll be able to keep everything under control back there.”

"I think Teddie will be just fine. His Christmas spirit can overwhelm any angry customer."

"If you say so," said Yosuke with a laugh. "Now let's hurry and get to your kotatsu so Teddie's brave sacrifice wasn't in vain.”

They started walking together through the snow, hand in hand. They were almost to the floodplain when Yu realized he had forgotten something. He stopped under a streetlight, Yosuke close beside him. Snowflakes glistened softly in his auburn hair. His cheeks and nose were slowly turning red from the cold. He smiled, and Yu’s heart melted. Despite it all, they had made it through the year together. This was going to be the best Christmas Eve Yu had ever had.

“Merry Christmas, Yosuke.” Yu leaned in and kissed him.

“Merry Christmas, partner.”

#souyosecretsanta2021 #my writing #my fanfiction #post by amelia #souyo #yu #yosuke #persona #persona 4 #persona fanfiction

21 notes · View notes

heauxplesslydevoted · 4 years ago

Text

Three’s Company

Summary: Naomi goes to lunch with the newest member of the diagnostic’s team.

A/N: Listen, I will not rest until Tobias and Ethan are friends again.

~v~

“It’s not going to be as bad as you’re making it out to be, Ethan. Above all else, Tobias Carrick is a doctor and a professional.”

Ethan resists the urge to roll his eyes at his girlfriend. This situation isn’t her fault, and it’s not like Naomi can help the fact that she’s optimistic. He still huffs under his breath though. “Being a doctor isn’t synonymous with being a professional. Trust me, Tobias is nothing of the sort.”

The news of Tobias Carrick not only coming to Edenbrook but also joining the diagnostics team hasn’t been well received. On top of a pretty tense exchange between Bloom and Ethan, Harper also made it known that she wasn’t a fan, thankfully not as outwardly as Ethan had.

Naomi however, has remained neutral. She doesn’t have history with Tobias like Harper and Ethan do, only knowing him through their biased second hand accounts. Ethan grumbled that he’s arrogant–though the same can be said about him as well–and selfish, but Naomi isn’t one to judge someone without knowing them. And besides, he pitched in to help save her last year, so for the time being, Tobias Carrick has a few brownie points with her.

“You’re being dramatic. He’s been a doctor as long as you have, he went to the same prestigious medical school that you did–”

“He graduated at number two,” Ethan interjects.

At that dig, Naomi huffs. “You’re being ridiculous. And petty, for no reason.”

“Bloom went over our heads and hired him, so I’m automatically suspicious. I apologize for not believing this wasn’t done specifically to annoy me.”

Naomi can concede to it being a bit suspicious, but she isn’t going to admit to this conspiracy of all roads leading back to Ethan. She’s not going to needlessly feed into his ego and rile him up.

The two of them continue their trek throughout the halls of Edenbrook in silence, their fingers loosely interlocked the entire way there. Naomi revels in it, because she knows it’s the calm before the storm.

Before they cross the threshold to the office, Naomi stops Ethan in his tracks. She cranes her head back so they can look each other in the eye. “Listen, like it or not, Tobias is here, and until he does something that warrants your hostility, at least be cordial. Our patients don’t deserve us at anything less than our best.”

Ethan pinches the bridge of his nose, and silently counts to three, attempting to steel himself.

“Fine.”

“Thank you.” Raising their joined hands, Naomi brushes a fleeting kiss across his knuckles. “Now stop pouting, Ramsey, we have work to do.”

Ethan untangles their hands only to open the door for Naomi. Once she steps inside she’s greeted with the sight of Tobias fiddling with Ethan’s coffee maker. He looks and flashes them a sly smile. “Mornin’, lovebirds! Ready to get to diagnosing?”

Ethan flashes Naomi a quick look. This is going to be a long day indeed.

~v~

So Tobias’s first day with the team wasn’t smooth sailing like Naomi wanted. Ethan and Harper made it clear that his former friend and roommate wasn’t wanted anywhere near the team, whether it be through passive aggressive eye rolls, thinly-veiled exasperated sighs, or outright aggression via Ethan that spiraled into a tense argument. Naomi remained neutral, corralling all of the attention back to the task at hand: helping their patient.

Naomi isn’t interested in spending another day babysitting these grown adults, so hopefully day 2 is a lot more smooth.

And so far, she seems to be getting her wish. Morning tasks were distributed without a fight, and after their morning huddle, Harper went downstairs to prep for a surgery she has coming up later. The remaining 3 members of the team are all in their own little corners of the office, Ethan typing away on his laptop, Tobias lounging on the couch, and Naomi sitting at their large desk, a pile of books and printed copies of online articles all spread out in front of her.

The words are all starting to blur together, her focus slipping away with each second that ticks on. Being in the office isn’t doing anything for her creativity or brainstorming power. She needs a break.

Naomi closes her textbook and pushes out of her seat, tired of studying. She makes her way over to Ethan’s desk, observing his hunched shoulders and the deep line between his brows. She rounds his desk until she’s standing directly in his line of vision. “You know what? I think it’s time to take a break. How about you and I get out of here and get something to eat?”

Ethan tears his eyes away from his computer screen long enough to look at Naomi. He frowns softly. “I’m sorry, but I’ll have to take a raincheck. On top of the actual work I have to do for this team, Leland is demanding that I put together a presentation for the board meeting at the end of the week.”

“About what?”

“About the team. Cost versus benefit, outcomes, methodology, etc. Basically, he wants me to sell the diagnostics team to him all over again.”

“Sucks to be the boss at times?”

“De facto boss,” Ethan corrects. “Remember, this team is supposed to be a democracy now. Anyway, I want to get this presentation done as quickly as I can so I can stop thinking about it.”

“I could go for some lunch,” the third person in the room speaks up. Naomi and Ethan both turn around and see Tobias staring back at them. “Oh sorry, am I interrupting the private conversation the two of you are trying to have in our communal workspace?”

“What do you want, Carrick?”

Tobias’s eyes bounce back and forth between the couple. “Naomi wants to escape these four walls and get food. You aren’t available, and I am.” He shrugs. “What are you in the mood for, Valentine? I could go for some Italian, and there’s a good place a few blocks from here.”

“She’s not going to lunch with you,” Ethan grits out possessively.

Naomi’s head whips around faster than she can stop herself. Since when did he get to make decisions on her behalf, especially when it’s not work related?

A small smirk settles on Tobias’s face. Naomi’s physical response to Ethan’s declaration does not go unnoticed by him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know your name was also Naomi Valentine. Whatever the case, I wasn’t speaking to you.”

“Naomi doesn’t–”

“Naomi doesn’t need an advocate to speak on her behalf because she’s an adult,” Naomi interjects sharply.

Whether she wants to accept or decline Tobias’s invitation to lunch, it’s her decision to make, not Ethan’s. His tumultuous relationship with Tobias is not her burden to bear, and he’s not going to force it upon her.

And just to prove it to him, Naomi turns around, her full attention back on Tobias, eyes alight with defiance. “You know what? Italian sounds delicious.”

~v~

20 minutes later, the unlikely duo is nestled into a corner booth of the Italian restaurant Tobias suggested. It’s a nice family owned joint that is currently experiencing a lunch rush. Every inch of the place is bustling with activity, the aromatic smell of sautéed garlic fills the air, soft music playing in the background. And while Naomi has yet to try the food, the restaurant is warm and inviting, and she likes it.

“You know, I’m really shocked you decided to take me up on my offer,” Tobias says, cutting into Naomi’s silent appraisal of their surroundings.

“I wasn’t going to turn down a free meal,” Naomi responds smoothly.

“A free meal?”

“Of course. You invited yourself, so you’re paying, Dr. Carrick. I’m thinking of ordering dessert, too.”

An easygoing smile tugs at the corners of her mouth as she speaks, and Tobias laughs. “I meant it because loverboy wasn’t too happy with it.”

“As much as I respect Ethan’s opinions on things, they don’t dictate my life. His issues with you have nothing to do with me, and if you think you can use me as a pawn to piss him off further, I’d advise you to think again.”

This young woman is brazen and full of sass. Tobias likes it. “It wasn’t my intention, I swear. It’s no secret that I’m not a welcomed member of the team, and you happen to be the only one who doesn’t roll your eyes or sneer whenever I speak. You are the closest thing I have to an...acquaintance, I guess.”

Naomi’s defenses deflate slightly at his shocking display of earnestness. She was expecting some display of bravado from the attending, so this has thrown her for a loop.

Tobias is nervous. She picks up on that energy almost instantly.

“Well like I said, their issues with you have nothing to do with me. I try to give everyone a fair shake.”

“I can respect that.”

“But in the interest of said fair shake, you have to answer a question for me. What are you doing here?”

“Here, in this restaurant?”

“At Edenbrook,” Naomi clarifies. “Kenmore is a level one trauma center, it was saved from getting snuffed out when it merged with Solomon, you guys stole my research candidate which brought in a lot of grant money. You had a decent gig there, so why did you come to Edenbrook? Why did you accept a position on Ethan’s team?”

Tobias shrugs. “I hit my threshold at Kenmore. I was at the top of the food chain, I had seen everything there was to see, done everything there was to do. I was...bored and restless. Edenbrook got injected with new blood, everything is new and exciting. Bloom said he wanted to take the team to new heights, and he offered me more money than I know what to do with to be a part of the vision.”

“Okay so who’s to say you’ll be satisfied just being a member of the team? How do I know you won’t attempt to stage a coup and take Ethan’s position?”

“Relax, sweetheart, I’m not gunning for your boyfriend’s spot.”

“Don’t call me sweetheart. There’s no need to be condescending.”

“I apologize. But Ethan’s spot on the team is safe. I don’t need Leland breathing down my neck and micromanaging me the way he does Ethan.”

Naomi’s eyes roam his face. He doesn’t have any tells, no eye shifting or twitching, no sudden movements with his hands or mouth, he doesn’t fidget in his seat. She has no reason to believe he’s lying, so she takes him at his word. “Okay.”

“Any other burning questions?”

“Why aren’t you and Ethan friends?”

Tobias doesn’t immediately answer, opting to take his sweet time to think on it. He pulls his lip in-between his teeth, before shrugging. “We’re too similar. Too driven, too ambitious, too stubborn. Two people can only go on the same path for so long before a collision happens.”

“It got ugly because you two wanted the same girl?”

Tobias scoffs. The faceless woman that he was adamant that he was in love with is at the bottom of his list of concerns. “She was just the tip of the iceberg.”

That manages to catch her interest. Naomi sits up in her seat and leans forward slightly. “So what happened?”

Naomi can see the exact moment that Tobias withdraws from the conversation. His posture gets stiff again and he averts his gaze.

“Okay, riddle me this, Carrick,” Naomi continues. “Ethan told me he reached out to you after you had your falling out, but you rebuffed him. Is that part true?”

“He called and asked if we could talk, I said no. I didn’t hear from him again until everything happened with Leland last year.”

“You didn’t want to make amends?”

Making amends and having his old friend back did sound nice once upon a time, but being friends with Ethan again means being in his shadow again. And that’s what led them to this whole thing in the first place. Tobias sighs and scrubs his hand across his jaw. He came here to eat a plate of ravioli and maybe annoy Ethan, not pour his heart out. What is it about Naomi Valentine and those big brown eyes of hers that makes him want to twist himself inside out and spill his guts? Is she some sort of siren?

“Making amends means I’d have to own up to my wrongdoings. I’d have to swallow the fact that I torpedoed our friendship,” Tobias confesses before he even realizes the words are out of his mouth. “Admitting fault and being vulnerable isn’t my strong suit.”

She doesn’t mean to, but Naomi giggles. And that giggle turns into a laugh. A loud one that attracts the attention of a few patrons, a hard feat to accomplish in the middle of a bustling restaurant, but she does it with ease.

“I’m sorry,” Naomi says once she finally calms down. She takes a deep breath before continuing. “God, no wonder you two were best friends. You are just as emotionally constipated as Ethan.”

“Emotionally constipated?” Tobias’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline at the blunt statement. And once the shock wears off, he laughs along with. “Touché, Valentine. Touché.”

~v~

Across the way, at the bar on the other side of the dining room, Ethan watches as his girlfriend and his former friend carry on like two bosom buddies.

Ethan decided to follow them approximately 10 minutes after they left, sheer curiosity getting the better of him. Before he could stop himself, he was in his car and at the restaurant, seated far enough away from them so he’s out of their line of vision, but close enough to see.

Naomi is in the zone, talking excitedly and Tobias sits there, soaking it all up like what she says and does is gospel. Their friendly interaction stirs irritation in the pit of his stomach, but it’s when Naomi lets out a boisterous laugh does he reach his limit. Ethan’s grip on the small tumbler in his hand tightens, and it’s a miracle he doesn’t end up with a million tiny shards of glass in his palm.

What on earth has Tobias said to make Naomi laugh like that? And why is he laughing with her?

Ethan doesn’t like it one bit, for a multitude of reasons. He doesn’t like other men being around Naomi–it’s ridiculous and sexist of him to feel this way, but Ethan is a possessive caveman, and he makes no bones about it. Seeing her actually laughing with Carrick of all people and enjoying his company makes him want to throw the drink ware he’s currently holding.

Deciding enough is enough, Ethan slams the glass down onto the bar and stands up. After dropping a $20 bill on the counter he makes his way over to Naomi and Tobias, unadulterated jealousy and alcohol fueling every step.

Tobias notices him first, and he jerks his head in Ethan’s general direction in order to get Naomi’s attention. She turns around and her eyes go wide at the sight of Ethan.

“Ethan? What are you doing here?”

“I was in the neighborhood.”

Now her eyes are narrowed. “You finished that big presentation you had to work on?”

Ethan sniffs haughtily. Leave it to her to throw that back in his face. “I decided that a break was okay.”

“And you coincidentally ended up at this restaurant?”

“Yup.”

Naomi stands up, muttering a quick “excuse me,” in Tobias’s direction and grabs Ethan’s hand, pulling him away. They nestle into a quiet corner of the restaurant, far away from the table, closer to the kitchen. The door constantly swings open and closed, as the waitstaff goes in and out.

Once they get a moment of quiet, Naomi glares at Ethan, the expression on her face nothing short of annoyed. “Are you spying on me? Because spying on me implies that you don’t trust me.”

“What? Of course I trust you!”

“So what are you doing here, Ethan?”

Ethan bites the inside of his cheek and rocks on the balls of his feet. “Okay, so I was spying.” Naomi opens her mouth to say something, but Ethan beats her to the punch. “It’s not because I don’t trust you! It’s him that I don’t trust.”

“Tobias has been nothing short of a gentleman,” Naomi says and Ethan snorts. “He’s acting a lot of a lot more mature than you are, I can say that much.”

“That’s not fair.”

“No, what’s not fair is you treating him like he’s a criminal when he’s given you no reason to do so.”

“He’s given me plenty of reason, Naomi!”

“The last time we saw Tobias, I was near death and he helped save my life,” Naomi says, and that’s more than enough to get Ethan to shut up.

Ethan’s heart slams against his rib cage with enough force to make him think the organ is trying to leave his body. Months have passed since the assassination attempt, but the mention of it is enough to cause Ethan to go into a panic.

“And the time before that, we stole a patient right out from under him, and before that we got into a fight at a freaking hospital softball game,” Naomi continues. “You haven’t been all good, and he hasn’t been all bad, so stop pretending to have the moral high ground.”

“This past year, you made a lot of strides in your personal life. You battled a lot with your mom, but you came out of it, a more well rounded individual, so do not let Tobias’s presence cause you to backslide. I’m not saying he has to be your best friend, but I refuse to tolerate this type of nonsense past today.”

He takes a moment to digest what she’s saying, begrudgingly of course because he doesn’t really want to admit that he hasn’t been behaving like the mature, adult professional that he usually is.

Ethan nods and places a kiss on Naomi’s forehead, his lips lingering there.

“Are you listening to me?”

Ethan kisses the apples of her cheeks, inwardly smirking as he feels Naomi smile. “I promise you that I’ll keep myself in check from now on.”

“And if you don’t, I will.”

The threat causes Ethan to lose focus. She clearly doesn’t mean it in a seductive way, but he can’t help that his brain instantly goes to the gutter when she’s involved. Now he wants nothing more than to be alone with her, with any flat surface readily available.

“Yes ma’am,” Ethan murmurs before capturing her lips with his own.

Naomi doesn’t allow herself to get swept up in the kiss, because she knows Ethan is using it to distract her. She untangles herself from his grip and pulls away before he’s able to get any more leverage.

“Can we go back to the office now?” Ethan asks.

“Absolutely not. I came here to have lunch, so we’re having lunch.”

Ethan frowns. “You still want to go through with this?”

“I didn’t come here to teach you a lesson, and I’m actually enjoying Tobias’s company, so I’m staying. And you’re staying here too.”

“No.”

“You followed me here, you don’t have a choice.”

Ethan reluctantly follows Naomi back to the table, where Tobias is studying the menu. He doesn’t even look up when he hears footsteps approaching. “I’m debating on if I want the ravioli or the chicken parm, which one–” his voice falters as he sees Ethan.

“Look who’s decided to join us for lunch!” Naomi says brightly, steamrolling over the building tension. She pushes Ethan into an empty chair, not giving him a second to turn away.

Tobias opens his mouth to object, “But–”

“I’m going to head to the restroom,” Naomi says. “And one of you guys is ordering me a limoncello, because Tobias is treating.”

She flounces off, not giving either man a chance to respond or argue with her.

Tobias laughs. “Is she always like this? So bossy?”

“Naomi is unapologetically assertive,” Ethan corrects. “She makes no bones about it.”

“The scary part about it is I’m 100 percent going to order her a limoncello, because she’s not the type of person you say no to.”

This time it’s Ethan’s turn to laugh. It’s nice to know he’s not the only unsuspecting sap that cannot say no when Naomi turns on her charm.

Once the laughter tapers off, the former friends are plunged into silence. Ethan checks the time on his watch, watching the seconds stretch on. He needs Naomi to come back. Seriously, how long does it take to use the restroom? He spares a quick glance at Tobias, who’s pointedly not making eye contact with him either.

Eventually Tobias speaks up, “Look, I didn’t come to Edenbrook to cause any trouble. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity that came with more money than I could count.”

“Naveen started this team with the most honorable of intentions,” Ethan says. “This was his life’s work, and he entrusted me with it. You cannot possibly understand the loyalty I have to him, so forgive me if I’m extremely protective over it and skeptical of your motives, which haven’t always been pure.”

“I’m just here to save lives, and work on the most fascinating medical cases of our generation. I know how important this team is, and I’d never intentionally disrespect Naveen like that.”

Ethan nods. That’s all he can really ask of Tobias. “Then I guess we’re good.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

Another beat of silence passes and Tobias awkwardly drums his fingers along the stem of his water glass. “So...you and Valentine?”

The question is out of left field and Ethan’s brows furrow in confusion. “Uh, yeah, me and Valentine.”

“I like her,” Tobias says definitively. When Ethan glares at him, Tobias rolls his eyes. “Not like that. Relax, I get it loud and clear that she’s off limits. Besides, I know you’re head over heels in love with her.”

A scarlet flush creeps up Ethan’s neck at Tobias’s matter of fact declaration. “Love? I’m...we don’t...I don’t–”

Tobias smirks. “Oh man. You’ve got it bad.”

That much, Ethan is willing to share. “Yeah, I do.”

“Naomi did say we’re both emotionally constipated, and that blubbering you just did proves her point,” Tobias teases. “But don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

The L-word has floated around in the back of Ethan’s mind for months, but he’s always been able to squash it down, locking it away in the deepest recesses of his brain. But hearing someone else say it is something entirely different. Ethan can’t run away from the thought.

Tobias has known since last year. He suspected something when Ethan came to defense during the softball game, but it was confirmed as soon as he saw them together after the incident with the senator. He had never seen Ethan so out of sorts, not even when they competed for the affections of the same woman back in school. Naomi is different. She has the power to bring Ethan to his knees.

“I hope you know that you’re punching way above your weight with that one,” Tobias adds teasingly.

It’s something Ethan thinks about constantly. Naomi could do so much better than him, but every day she chooses him. “Absolutely.”

“And for what it’s worth, she’s just as much into you. The woman gives you heart eyes whenever you’re around. It’s disgusting, to be quite frank.”

The sentence warms Ethan from the inside out. He’ll never get over knowing Naomi wants him just as much as he wants her.

Thankfully Naomi chooses that moment to come back to the table, giving the men something else to focus their attention on. She settles into a seat next to Ethan, and he immediately wraps an arm around her, his fingertips stroking her arm. Tobias observes the fleeting moment of intimacy with a private smile.

Naomi’s eyes flicker back and forth between the men. “Everything okay over here?”

Tobias and Ethan both look at each other, a silent moment of understanding passing between them. Ethan nods. “Everything is fine.”

Naomi smiles. Maybe there’s hope for them yet. “Good. Now let’s flag down a waiter and get some food.”

~v~

Tags: @mvalentine @choicesaddict5 @professorkingslay @maurine07 @aka-calliope @bluebellot @whimsicallywayward15 @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @jamespotterthefirst @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @colourmeshy @paulfwesley @the-pale-goddess @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramseyx @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @thatysn @bellcat2010 @blainehellyes @cecilecontrera @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @caseyvalentineramsey @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey

#playchoices #choices: stories you play #open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #tobias carrick

175 notes · View notes