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taecalikook · 4 years

Text

When the sea sleeps

summary : marriage should be based on love, but it’s not really the case with you and Seokjin. what’s more beneficial than two person who sworn off romances to get married out of obligation, right? but you should have known better, that keeping your heart straight from wanting someone like Kim Seokjin is next to impossible.

{fake marriage! au, strangers to lovers!au}

pairing : kim seokjin x reader

genre : major tooth rotting fluff, crack, smut(?)

word count : 23.720 (one-shot)

warning! mention of period and masturbation, daddy kink, big cock! seokjin, teasing, cock sucking, rough blowjob, deep throat, nipple play, oral (female receiving), riding, cum play, major fluffy love talk (?), dry hump, infidelity mentions, etc. ((omg))

“Hi, I am in the mart near our apartment. Anything you want?”

“Yes, please. I think we ran out of toothpaste and cleaning liquid. And can you get the usual donuts as well? Thank you.” Your husband replies meekly from the other side of the call. You hum in agreement, noting the order.

“Will you be home soon?” You ask mundanely, a question based out of routinity instead of wanting an answer. Well, that’s just how it is with Seokjin.

“I don’t think so. Might have to stay late for work. You should head to bed first.”

“Okay, then. See you.” You nod and cut the call, shoving the phone to your pocket.

It’s been like this for the past two and a half years with Seokjin. Meeting him after being introduced by your mother, getting married after six months of vague dating, and then living rather as a roommate than husband and wife in your small apartment. Life has been good.

Well, it’s not like you are married for love.

Seokjin is 33 years old this year, and you are 31. Years ago, you weren’t really interested in marriage. You were fully capable of living on your own, not really interested in love and that’s about it. Even so, your mother never stopped sending you lists of men she’s going to introduce you to—but you quickly shut her off by busying yourself with work and all.

Yet no matter how heartless you might be, seeing your mother crying her heart out before bed for god to give you a good husband and family, you finally caved and agreed to one blind date. She couldn’t be happier to give you the name of your suitor.

Kim Seokjin. A 31 years old, living in his own apartment, working in a local bank as a manager.

When you first heard about him, there’s no outstanding or over the top qualities he possessed, and probably that’s how you prefer him to be. Yet when you saw him first, there’s literally nothing else you preferred him to be.

“I’m sorry for this, but… I actually have no interest in marriage.”

He thought you would be slapping him across the face after saying such a ridiculous statement on the first meeting, yet when your face lightened up, he was not less than confused.

“Me too! I only did this because of my mother.” You squealed in delight of finding the person that shares your pain. “I never intend to get married myself.”

“God, I was scared you’ll take this the wrong way.” He finally sighed in relief, was afraid of offending you. “My mother, she is.. sick right now, and she has never stopped saying that she wants to see me married before she dies.”

“I understood that. And I’m sorry, I hope she’ll be fine soon.” You sincerely wished him well. As far as you were concerned, Seokjin looked like a great guy. He deserved better, anyway, and high chance he would be a good friend. It’s not often to see someone not too desperate to chase love after reaching your age.

After another hour talking about anything but yourself, Seokjin reaches out for the bill. “Are you up for desserts?” He asked with a thin smile, and you nod happily, thinking about the sweets you were about to consume.

That evening, when your mother asked what happened with the date, you told her that she shouldn’t expect more about Seokjin. Yet the day after, Seokjin messaged you asking for a second date, your mother was over the moon. And that was how you spent another six months in a vague relationship with Seokjin, where it seemed like both of you were serious, yet there’s no feelings attached. Seokjin was a best friend, and an outstanding listener, but that’s about it.

One day, Seokjin asked about the idea of marrying you, whether you would detest the idea. And strangely, you didn’t. The week after, Saturday night you were just sitting in his apartment eating his homemade dishes, Seokjin asked whether you wanted him to marry you. After setting a few basic rules, and just like that you agree.

That’s how you’ve been living with a bestfriend-like-husband.

Sex is absolutely off limit, and not that Seokjin has initiated it before. You are sleeping in the same bed, but Seokjin generously chooses the giant king bed that is rather disproportionate to the whole room to ensure both of you have personal space in bed. In the morning, Seokjin usually cooks, and you’ll take turns cleaning the apartment. You’ll water the small plants near the window, changing your bed sheet, and cleaning your wedding photo from dust.

On Saturday or Sunday, both of you will have brunch together in the nearest cafe then lounge around watching netflix on your large TV. Once every month he’ll have a drink with fellow friends or you’ll meet up with your best friends, and meet with your parents or in-laws.

Living with Seokjin is a series of routinity, and you actually don’t mind. Maybe you're already in the age when you are surreptitious, and had enough of surprises.

After taking a long warm bath and getting inside your comfy sheets, you settle for a while in silence until a name comes up on your screen. Your mother-in-law is calling. You abruptly rise to sit, pressing the green button. “Hi, mother. How are you doing?”

“I’m very great now listening to my precious daughter’s voice!” She gleefully squeals, strangely energized. You glance at the clock on your nightstand. It’s already ten. Now it reminds you Seokjin’s not home yet. “Seokjin’s father is having a birthday lunch this Saturday. You can come right? Do come by eleven, okay?”

“Ah, I see. We will, mom.” You smile, internally noting the event to let Seokjin reserve his time. The talks then continue with your condition, whether you’re well or having sickness whatsoever—you know she actually means to ask if you’re going to give her a grandchild anytime soon. You answer demurely, not that it surprises you as your own mother has been going on and on and on about it as well. But how can you say that when you haven’t even kissed him more than five times in the past two and a half years?

But to think about it, Seokjin really has a great self-control if he really is not having an affair—for the lack of better terms—outside your marriage. Not that it would upset you whatsoever, it’s just not something you’d rather discuss with each other. Both of you agreed it would be okay to do whatever you both want, as long as you’re open to each other—but so far, nothing has implied otherwise. You somehow feel an urgency to talk about it, as you know Seokjin is a healthy man who must have his own needs as well—the one you can’t help with.

After the call ends, Seokjin enters your bedroom at the same time, looking crumpled as ever. The top two buttons on his shirt are undone, face looks beyond exhaustion, and… the fly of his trousers is opened. You are unable to hold a sly smile.

“Are you tired?” You greet, and Seokjin nods, sighing deeply.

“Today was pretty shitty. A client was being a jackass as per usual.” Seokjin throws his bag on the table, taking off his suit. “I think I’m going to take a long hot shower. You can sleep first.”

You hum. “Okay. I turned up the water heater, so you can go in now.”

“Thank you, Y/N. You’re a lifesaver.” Seokjin sighs in relief.

“You’re welcome. And Saturday, your father is having a birthday lunch and your mother asked us to come. Do arrange your schedule. And Seokjin?” You ask, and Seokjin looks up to you in confusion, waiting for you to continue.

“Your fly is open.”

“Fuck.” He curses and looks down, immediately zipping it close. “I hope I didn’t embarrass myself. And I swear it was nothing, I may have forgotten to close it in the restroom before going home.”

“It’s okay. You can do whatever you want, anyway.” You heartily giggle in amusement—with lots of subtle meaning behind words—settling back on your side of bed and hearing Seokjin softly closes the door behind him.

It’s already Friday, and somehow you still feel anxious. The day is closing soon, and tomorrow you’ll be meeting your in-laws for a family lunch, yet you are aware it’s not that simple. You have to pretend you have a real, conservative marriage with Seokjin, and it stresses you out. Not because you have to pretend to be in love—you’d rather think you’re relatively good at that, but having to lie to his parent’s face that Seokjin’s dick has ever entered you to get them a grandchild is nauseating.

“Why are you so tense, Y/N?” Hoseok chuckles, tapping your shoulder. “It’s Friday night. You should be all smiles.”

“Just meeting a few of my in-laws tomorrow. I’m a bit… nervous. That’s all.”

Jane who is sitting beside you immediately joins in. “Ah, that’s hard. My in-laws are jackasses, hence I’d rather steer clear from any family meetings. Why are you nervous? Are they annoying bastards as well?”

“No, they’re not like that.” You shake your head, confused on how to explain that you are not having a real marriage with Seokjin like most married couples. You’d rather not. “Well, I think I’m just having cold feet. That’s all.”

“You should come with us, then.” Hoseok offers with a whole ass large smile which shows his perfect teeth. “We’re having a drink tonight. No worry, we’re not going all the way to night. Just a slow one. You’ll be fine.”

That’s how you agreed to attend with a few of your peers, notably Hoseok and Jane who are your teammates, Namjoon from Legal, Jungkook from Accounting, and a few other friends you are only on name basis with. It surely started slow, and you gave Seokjin a short call before entering the bar.

“Seokjin, hi. I’m out for drinks with friends, I’ll be a bit late, okay? But not too late though, only for two hours, three hours max.” You smile at Jungkook who is asking you to come. You gesture for him to enter before you. “I’ll give you a call when I’m done.”

“I see. Where are you drinking exactly?” He asks calmly. You quickly mention the name and address of the bar. “Okay. Let me know when you’ll be coming home, I’ll get you.”

“Ah, it’s okay! I think Hoseok or Jungkook can drive me home. No worry.”

“I see. Be safe, okay? And don’t get too hammered, we still have that lunch tomorrow.” Seokjin calmly reminds you. Probably due to the fact that you’re that quick to lose control, and the struggles he had to face on a regular basis to deal with drunk you.

Something inside you stirs at the remembrance of tomorrow’s event, but you quickly shrug it. You’re drinking to forget, anyway. “Of course. See you!”

As it should’ve been easily predicted, you’re really loose with your alcohol control, especially with the great atmosphere and company. With Hoseok and Jane, one drink becomes two, and then four, and then in a blink, you lose count. You really should’ve predicted it, now drunkenly blabbering whatever inside your mind. Yet at once, you stumble on your seat and nearly fall until Jungkook catches you by the waist.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook checks up on you, staring at your blushing face, eyes hooded like completely feeling the alcohol dancing in your spine. “You look drunk, Y/N. Maybe you should cut the alcohol.”

“Yeah, I think I should.” You sigh, resting the glass back on the table. You rub your forehead. “I shouldn’t be drinking, since tomorrow I’m meeting my in-laws, and it’s.. fucking.. suck! You know why, Jungkook?” Jungkook shakes his head, amusement visible in his eyes while looking at you.

“Because they’ll keep asking about grandchildren.” You scoff. “They’ll keep wanting me to have a child, especially with the fact that Seokjin’s younger brother already has three of those. But how can I say it to them?”

“Why? Is there any reason you don’t want to have kids? Are you waiting?”

You hit the table with your fisted hand, aggrieved. “It’s not that. How can I when.. when.. I haven’t even had sex with my own husband?”

“What?” Jungkook really couldn’t believe his ear. You have been married for more than two years and haven’t had sex with your husband? How is that even possible is beyond him. “Are you serious? Why?”

“Y/N.”

Jungkook looks back at the source of the voice, finding Seokjin’s dark eyes looking at your figure, resting your head on the table. Jungkook immediately lets go of his hand on your skin. “Ah, sorry.”

“It’s okay. She must be drunk.” Seokjin sighs, circling his hands around your waist. Not that he didn’t expect it, but he feels extremely uncomfortable with the fact that someone else is aware of your little arrangement, especially with it being someone he doesn’t even know besides a name. “I’ll take her now. Here.” He says, slapping a few bills for your drinks.

Not even muttering goodbyes for Jungkook or other drunk people on the table, Seokjin instantly takes you back to his car. A minute of silence he’s staring at your face, Seokjin lightly flicks your head in annoyance before taking off, after ensuring you’re well secured on the passenger side.

“I’m sorry.”

The moment you’re awake, the memory instantly hits you like a truck inside your throbbing head. Constantly shoving drinks up your throat, dancing with Jane and Hoseok, and little talk with Jungkook. You also faintly make out Seokjin’s face getting you from the bar in your memory—right before passing out. God, it’s totally a mess. You really should avoid drinks again at all costs now.

“Are you awake?” Seokjin calmly asks while stirring breakfast on the pan. You nod, standing beside him. “The soup will be ready in a second. You can get our plates.”

Realizing that the talk is about to happen, you silently follow his order and prepare a few of the utensils on the table. You sit down to wait for Seokjin to join, and when he does, you are still waiting for him to open the conversation. In the midst of eating in silence, Seokjin suddenly breaks the silence.

“Do you want to have a child?”

Out of shock, you literally choke on your soup, the liquid entered the wrong pipe. Yet even when tapping your back lightly, he still has the nerves to laugh.

“That’s not funny!” You scowl in annoyance, gulping the water Seokjin offered. Your husband is a total jerk, you really should’ve known.

“It is. And I really need to know, since last night you were talking to your friend about our sexless marriage in such a heart wrenching manner I just had to ask.”

You are silenced in guilt with the mention of last night, resting back the glass. “It’s not like that.”

Seokjin cocks his head. “So what is it like?”

“No, I was just stressed about the fact that our families are pressuring us to have a child.” You sigh, never actually telling Seokjin about the pressure on your shoulder. “My mother even once asked me to consult with Obstetricians if my eggs are not working. Why didn’t she doubt your sperm instead?! Annoying.”

“Y/N. You really should’ve told me if my mother and yours has been pressing you to have a child.” Seokjin speaks in good nature, even with a hint of scolding. “I will let her know that it’s our decision, and we’ll have kids whenever we are ready.”

You nod. “Thank you. And I’m very sorry, by the way. Yesterday was a bit much, I know.”

“It’s fine.” He says, tapping the top of your head. “I’ll take a bath first, and we’ll go about an hour. Okay?”

And as predicted, the one that welcomes you and Seokjin even from far is Taehyun, Taehyung’s five years old eldest son. He runs with his two little feet with a light shout of glee until he clings to Seokjin’s thigh. “Auntie! Uncle! Hi!”

“Hi, Taehyun! How are you?!” Seokjin instantly takes him by the waist, bringing him up to his grasp and kisses his lumpy cheek. You are unable to hide a swooned smile. “Are you a smart boy now? Have you made friends in kindergarten?”

“Of course!” He squeals, and proceeds to tell him about his exciting kindergarten stories. You walk in, immediately welcomed by Tasha, Taehyung’s wife in a bear hug. “Sister-in-law! How are you doing? You look great.”

“I’m fine, Tasha, thanks.” You giggle in delight. You have always been close with Tasha, as she is a wonderful woman and a good friend as well. “You look amazing. And god, that hair is exquisite.”

Tasha laughs while sheepishly fixing her hair of light purple highlights. “Got a few dirty looks from my boss and Taehyung’s mother, but it’s all worth it I guess. Who said mother of three can’t rock highlights, right?”

“Absolutely!”

“You two beautiful ladies should come in.” Seokjin’s father beams at the two, gesturing to enter the house. “My wife has already prepared loads and loads of food, so I hope you’re hungry.”

“Happy birthday, father.” You smile, giving the old man a hug. “I hope this year is the best year that brings happiness to your life.”

“Well, a wish that this is not my last year in life is sufficient, but that is well welcomed as well.” He jokes, as the three of you enter the home. “Thanks anyway, Y/N. Greatly appreciated.”

“My granddaughters!” Your mother-in-law literally shouts, kissing you both on the cheek. “You both look amazing. My two sons should be thanking their lucky stars for having you both as a wife.”

“We are, mother. Every night.” Taehyung appears on your side, giving you a side hug of welcome. “How are you, sister-in-law? You’re doing great, right?”

“Amazing, Taehyung. Thank you for asking. I hope you’re well rested while taking care of the lovely miniatures of you.” You look at the three children, Taehyun, the twin Taejin and Taerin playing with their toys in the middle of the living room with your husband.

“The sitter helps, of course.” Taehyung giggles, and Tasha elbows him with a scowl. Your mother quickly wraps the heart warming greetings and guides the whole family to be seated for the lunch prepared. And boy is the dining table packed with countless foods, not even including the dessert on the small table in the corner of the room. You just hope this won’t go to waste.

“No worries, we’ll be packing this as well to have it distributed to neighboring orphanages along with a few other donations.” Seokjin’s mother beams, sensing your worry after looking onto the countless plates.

An hour passes by quickly with the family digging on the delish in front of them. While chatting among themselves, Taehyung and Tasha hand their own gift to his father. “Here it is, father. Happy 65th birthday, hope you are always happy and healthy.” He beams, hugging his father. The large package is heavy on his hand, and your father in law laughs in glee.

It was a beautiful sight, yet you feel terribly uneasy. You haven’t gotten him anything, and Seokjin never discussed this before. How can you forget? God, you’ve really shame yourself and Seokjin in front of his family.

“What is this?” The old man questions and rips the wrapper.

“Open it.” Father quickly opens the package, and sees multiple items neatly stuffed in the box. “Healthy supplements and tea, warm jacket, acupuncture mat, few other things that can help you live longer.” Taehyung grins. The old man rolls his eyes, but nonetheless looks content with the gift.

“Thank you, son! Will put this into a good use.”

Amongst your panic of reaching out to Seokjin beside you, he instead takes turns in handing the gift of his own, an envelope, which catches you by surprise. He never talked about bringing a gift before. “This is from me and Y/N, father. Happy birthday.”

“What is this?” Your father curiously opens the envelope. At once, he literally squeals, unable to hide the delight in his face. “A two way ticket to Japan? Son, this is too much.”

“It’s not. It’s the least we can do for you and mother.” Seokjin says good-naturedly, like the precious son he is. You stare at him strangely. “Y/N and I also arranged a few stops that could be great to improve your health as well. No worries, there will be a guide as you’ll be on tour.”

“Thank you, son!” Your father and mother take turns hugging both you and Seokjin, and you only reply while in a hazen state, don’t know how or what to feel. As long as you know, it all comes from his pocket, and it’s his money to spend. You don’t even know why you feel weirded out. “Thank you, Y/N.”

“Can you at least pretend my gifts are worthy too?” Taehyung jokes, shaking his head in faux disappointment. “The health supplements cost a fortune too, father! You’re being too mean with your reaction.”

“I’m just so happy my two sons are happy with their own family.” The old man beams in delight. “And your mother prepared a gift for you and Seokjin too, Y/N. Darling, you can give it to them, okay? I’m going to the restroom.”

“Why aren’t you giving it to me too?” Taehyung whines to his mother as Tasha elbows him for the nth time already.

“You don’t get one because you don’t need it, Taehyung.”

Seokjin’s mother quickly shoves you a gift with the largest of smiles, and truth to be told, you instantly feel uneasy. A gift in which you need and Taehyung don’t? An easy guess instantly comes to your senses. It must be it. There’s no other way.

“We’ll open this when we get home.” You turn your head to Seokjin, seeing how expressionless he has become. Is he angry? He swiftly takes the gift from you, resting it on the other side of the room.

“Ah, it’s good to. Just be careful using it, okay? It’ll be very helpful with the conception, trust me. It’s been passed down with generations.” Seokjin’s mother winks, looking very satisfied, yet you feel queasy, feeling like you’re soon puking your heart out. On your side, you can detect how silent Taehyung and Tasha have become, and you swear you never felt this pathetic and miserable before.

“Thank.. you.”

Seokjin holds you by the hand with his face is beyond enraged now—yet you know he could never be angry with his parents. He’s a mama's boy, and you like it that he is, but you really feel like going home and crying your heart out. But you have to endure longer hours feeling like total shit with your in-laws around.

“Father, mother, Y/N and I had to go home. I just remember we had stuff to do at home.” Seokjin curtly says, and you whip your head at him in surprise. You mostly did not expect it.

“Why? You don’t really have to do it right now—but if you really have to, it’s okay.” Your mother giggles, content with the idea that you and your husband need to leave because both of you are going to fuck and give them grandchildren. God, your head literally throbs with the misunderstanding.

“Y/N, get to the car.” Seokjin mutters tensely, there is not a hint of emotion beside morse in his tone. “Mom, can we talk?”

“Seokjin, no.” You whisper while tugging on his sleeve. “Don’t do it.”

“Y/N, get to the car.” He repeats, like he is not up for any negotiation. You are scared of what he’s going to say to his mother. Is he going to say about the fact that your marriage is faux and is only done to please her? But that’s not what you want, just thinking about it makes you sick. “You can leave the gift here.”

Mildly confused at the sudden tense situation, your mother-in-law silently nods and complies to talk with her son. Against his order, you pick up the gift and move to give Taehyung, Tasha and their three children a parting hug.

“Hey, I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” Tasha worriedly says, and you nod with a strained smile. “Be safe in driving home.”

“We will. Taehyung, thanks.” You hug the pouting guy, as he gives you a squeezing hug of consolation.

“Our parents can be prodding like that. I am very sorry.”

Walking back into the room finding the confusing tense, Seokjin’s father looks at you about to say goodbye. “Are you leaving?”

“Yes. I’m afraid we have something coming up.” You forced a smile, yet you know your father-in-law completely understands the whole situation.

“Okay then. Give this old man a parting hug.” The kind man then hugs you dearly like you’re a daughter he never had. “Thank you for coming. And I’m very sorry.”

“It’s nothing! Everything is great.” Like an idiot, you still try to lie through your teeth in front of the wise man—it’s ridiculous. “Happy birthday, father.”

Walking inside Seokjin’s car, you patiently wait another ten minutes until he comes in with an unreadable expression. And when he sits beside you, he heave a deep breath.

“Is everything okay? What did you say?” You fret in panic.

“Nothing much. That it’s already tough for both of us now, and we’ll have kids whenever we want to.” Seokjin hums, glancing at the gift his mother gave yet refusing to comment. “I’m very sorry that I haven’t realized this before. I know it must be stressing you out.”

“Not really. I’m just.. tired.” You hollowly laugh, Seokjin slowly taking off the house onto the street. Spending a few minutes staring at the gift secured on your lap, you mutter—more to yourself.

“Do you think we should just have a child?”

At the unexpected question, Seokjin glances at you. Next five minutes are spent in deep silence before...

“Do you love me?”

The questions really create a ripple of shock in your whole body. You literally have no idea whether he’s being serious or not.

“W-what?”

“I don’t want to have a child when both of us know there is no love here. We both don’t love each other.” Seokjin mutters lowly, eyes trained on the road. “Let’s not put more innocent people into misery.”

Misery.

You don’t know why that word hurts more than you thought it would, coming out from Seokjin’s mouth.

As expected, the things between you and Seokjin have become pretty frosty. Sunday morning, he excused himself to go fishing with Yoongi—his best friend of ten years, and you were thankful that you do not have to waste another second in his presence. Being with him is hard enough, not that you have to be reminded of the hurtful things he said.

Misery.

Yes, misery indeed. Having to marry someone you don’t have feelings for.

But you thought he was a friend. Not that you chained him into this, and he was the one asking your hand in loveless marriage. He is being a total jackass. And you never should’ve said such nonsense. Having a child with someone you don’t love? Seriously? Even couples in love can end up in divorce because of kids—much less your ridiculous marriage.

And it sucks that this suffocates your whole being yet you can’t tell anyone, since nobody really knows you don’t have any attachment to your husband.

Well, beside...

“Hello? Is this Y/N?”

Listening to the velvety voice on the other side of the call, you instinctively gulp. Are you seriously going to talk to someone about this, more less Jeon Jungkook? You must be quite desperate. “Hi, Jungkook! I’m sorry to interrupt you. Is this.. an alright time?”

Jungkook chuckles on the other side. “Well, not really, but I can make it alright for you.”

You groan, instantly retracting your own will to talk about it to him. “You seriously did not just flirt with a married woman, right?”

“Of course not! Who do you take I am.” He giggles in mirth, and you roll your eyes. You really made a mistake by calling him. “I’m a bit busy now, but will be free in around… an hour. Do you want to meet?”

“I didn’t exactly say what I wanted to ask for.”

“I just know.” Jungkook hums, and you literally can imagine his annoying smirk on the other side of the call. “I’ll text you the details.”

You spend another seconds in silence, but reply nonetheless. There’s no harm in meeting a friend. Right?

“Sure.”

“So let me get this straight. You—in this advanced, 21st century—agreed to a marriage where the both of you don’t even have little bit of interest in marriage? And all because your parents want you to?”

Now that Jungkook is saying it in front of your face, it does sound foolish.

“Is it.. weird?”

“What the fuck, Y/N. It’s not just weird. It’s crazy.” Jungkook scoffs, feeling the firsthand headache of dealing with the situation you are currently in. “I don’t know how much of a good daughter you are, but this is nuts. You are seriously chaining yourself to a relationship just out of pity, and because of someone else. You know that phrase ‘having only love is not enough in marriage’? You don’t even have that.”

Your eyebrows furrow, quite dejected that Jungkook really has to phrase it like that. The urge to defend yourself rushes unto you. “Yes, I know what we are doing now is silly, but I actually have no regret. Seokjin is a great guy, a good companion as well, and it’s basically just a living arrangement. I’m good.”

He sighs at your stubbornness. “You know, you could’ve been with someone else that you truly love. Did you realize that?”

“I won’t.” You answer almost instantly, doting the cheesecake in the middle of your table. “I’m not interested. I am living well on my own, and I don’t really think I have anyone for me. I am comfortable with myself.”

“And why’d you trade that precious solitude of yours with someone you don’t even love?” Jungkook challenges, and you take a deep breath to calm yourself.

“Because if that’s how I can make someone else happy, I would.” You answer, looking back at Jungkook’s prodding eyes. “My mother, my father, have taken care of problematic me since I was a little kid. And now all they wanted is for me to have someone that cares for me, and who I deeply care for. And if getting married is the only way they can live and die happily… I’d do anything.”

Jungkook is easily silenced at your unexpected outburst, but it feels like a weight has been lifted off your shoulder after saying what you truly feel to someone else. It feels almost relieving, the fog living in your shoulder lightens.

“But you know they’d truly be disappointed if you are lying to them, right? Lying that you are happy. Lying that you love your husband.” He observes you in concern. You smile lopsidedly.

“Well, maybe in my case, a little white lie won’t hurt.” You whisper to yourself, sipping on your beverage.

After hanging out a bit longer with Jungkook, you found yourself comfortable being around him. He is a great guy, albeit annoying and too curious for his own good, he is nice and easy to talk to. You were never really close to him, and usually a rather closed person, but Jungkook is too good at getting you out of your shell.

Walking out from his car, you are stunned when finding Seokjin is also getting out of his own, about to enter your apartment building. He mirrors your expression, a paper bag filled with foods and in his right grasp is his favorite donuts box.

“Hi.” He greets with cocked eyebrows. “I bought meat to cook for dinner.”

“Ah, I already ate dinner.” You guiltily scratch your nape, glancing to the car beside you. Jungkook is just about to drop you off, but you have no idea why he is not leaving yet. “You went home from Yoongi’s?”

“Yes.” Seokjin points to the car. “Who is it? Did you meet with friends?”

“Yes. I'm sorry, I forgot to tell you. But he’s just about to leave—”

“Hi man.” Jungkook is somehow already standing right beside you as you flinch in your spot, and he offers his hand. “I guess I never properly introduced myself. I’m Jungkook, Y/N’s workmate.”

“Ah, Jungkook. We met before, right? I am sorry, yesterday was quite chaotic, I haven’t properly introduced myself.” Jin smiles benevolently, shaking the younger man’s hand. “I’m Seokjin, the husband. Do you want to come in? I’m cooking steak for dinner.”

“Nah, I already had dinner with Y/N. But I’ll take you up on that, though. Let’s get dinner another time.” Jungkook agrees, and gives you a light tap in the back as a goodbye. “Got to go, but I’ll see you Monday!”

“Bye, Jungkook.” You reply meekly and turn back to Seokjin, staring back at you with a strange expression. “Are you good?”

“Yup.” Seokjin smiles impartially, shifting his expression. “Let’s get in, you’ll catch a cold.”

In a way, Seokjin realizes that something changes with you ever since coming back from his father’s birthday party. You were usually a chirpy, active person, unbothered to speak your mind, talking about Hoseok or your patronizing boss and made the apartment as loud as possible with your late night exercise—yet here you are, silently sitting down on your side of bed, watching your favorite series from phone.

And you clearly stated how you hate watching with your phone that he knows you are avoiding him—not wanting him to join watching it with you in the living room. And what irks him is this passive aggressive thing has been going on since last week, and it’s already Thursday. He desperately needs the old you back.

“Why are you watching it on the phone?” Seokjin asks, a vague irritation slipped in his tone. “The TV is good to watch. And you hate watching it on the phone.”

You are confused to say the least, blinking your eyes at him. Your finger pauses the show. He remembers that? “Uh.. I’m just… feeling like laying in bed while watching. Is there something wrong?”

“No, don’t lie to yourself now. You are clearly avoiding me.” Seokjin hisses, unable to hide anymore of his annoyance. “And this has been going on for a week. You didn’t even let me know if you’re coming home, and rejected that one time I said I’ll get you from the office. What’s wrong?”

“I told you it’s nothing. My work is the opposite direction of your way to home. It’ll be easier to go home directly.” You reason stubbornly, trying to make sense—even if you know you really are avoiding him. You don’t want to let him know that you are hurt by the things he said, and to be frank, looking at him pissess you off a bit. Like right now.

“Y/N, you know that we are too old for this shit. You need to tell me right now if I did something wrong.” He states earnestly. You roll your eyes, not feeling to drag the conversation and position yourself back to watching.

“You did nothing wrong. It’s just me, maybe I’m going on menopause.”

Seokjin huffs, looking at you already settling back to watching—yet he is too determined to end all this bullshit that he discards the phone you’re watching onto the bed. You gape at him, dumbfounded that he really did that to get your serious attention. “Stop being a child and talk to me like adults.” He scowls.

“What the hell is wrong with you?! I told you It’s nothing.” You shout, trying to get your phone back yet missing due to Seokjin’s quick wit of taking and hanging it far above his head. And poor you, that are seriously no match to his height.

“Give me back my phone, you jerk!”

“Might be a jerk but at least I’m not a 30 years old woman having menopause.” He mocks your nonsense, yet you are too resentful to give a shit that you literally climb on bed and jump to leech your whole weight on him like a freaking koala. Seokjin literally yells at your attempt of getting stable by clutching on his hair, pulling it to whichever direction you prefer. “Ah, get off me! It hurts and you’re heavy!”

“I don’t care! You’re being a jerk, and I’m a misery anyway, right? I’m just fulfilling my duties!” You howl, shaking your body that he shrieks, losing his balance and falls on your large bed. And like how most sleazy cringy telenovela, he just had to settle on top of you, but for one teeny different, his whole weight is now crushing your being like a sweet revenge.

“Get off me! You’re heavy.” You screech like a petulant child, punching the guy on his broad ass shoulder. After a whole minute of finally begging him to get off, Seokjin finally gets on his elbow, giving a bit of space for you to breathe.

“I apologize that I upset you.” He gazes at you in all sincerity that literally leaves you holding your breath. “It was not true when I said that misery thing. You are not a misery. You are a blessing. The fact that we are married could be the greatest thing that happens to me, and I’ll never trade it for anything else.”

You are silenced, waiting for him to continue. “I was just pissed off with myself that I was insensitive about how everyone is pressuring you, and you are struggling because of this. I actually never thought about those snarks, and I thought you would too.” Seokjin softly claims, and you are near to tears that he literally speaks like honey. “I just thought it was off limits. I guess we should’ve talked more about this before.”

You sigh, looking down. “I do think so. And I’m sorry too—I guess I should’ve just said what’s bothering my mind.” You breathe out with a hint of guilt. “I’m sorry for acting like this. I guess that misery thing just got to me more than I thought it would, and.. yeah. Let’s communicate better.”

“We should.” He hums in delight. “You are cuter when you are less grumpy. You know that?”

“I am cute in any way possible.” You sassily reply, expecting a snarky comment as retaliation yet Seokjin’s lips curl in amusement.

“Well, I can’t comment on that.” He beams, and at that your heart literally skips a beat. or two. or more than you can count. “I want to watch what you’re watching. Let’s watch it on the TV, your eyes must be hurting doing all these grumpy behavior.”

“Yeah, I do think so. It’s like.. exhausting.” You rub your temple. “I hate being crabby.”

“Yes. It doesn’t suit you. At all.” Seokjin pulls both your cheeks in different directions with sparkling eyes. You groan. “So don’t do that to your husband, okay?”

At that, you peer at him silently while he’s searching the series you love on the TV. The way he is able to easily soothe you is.. pissing you off.

“By the way, a new movie is premiering next week and I bought us a ticket. Wanna watch it with me?” He turns to you, still with the same adorable smile. And it literally sucks that something weakens inside you at that smile.

Ugh, there’s gotta be something wrong with you.

Another week goes and there you are, Thursday night about to head out after a whole day of work. Tidying your desk, suddenly a voice stops your wandering mind—it belongs to your desk mate.

“Why are you so happy today? You’re all whistling and it starts creeping me out.” Hoseok snickers, suddenly peering close to you. “Did you get a good dick down yesterday?”

“What the hell, Hoseok?” You groan, closing your laptop with a loud thump. “It’s not it. Can’t a girl just be happy without any reason?”

“No. That means you're crazy. And it’s coming from Y/N, the grumpies person on the planet.” Jane titters, joining your conversation. You started to doubt what kind of connection they had whenever it concerns you. “You must had a good sex yesterday. You know, I am curious on how Seokjin is in bed. Is he a bit dom? Looks a bit kinky, I have to say.”

“Of course! The way he acts is a complete giveaway, he must have a choking kink, or maybe bondage. Daddy kink is absolutely, by default.” Hoseok responds with curiosity. Jane snickers as you are busy gasping for air.

“And his dick?! You know, the first time I saw him, I immediately knew this guy has a big dick energy. I bet his is girthy—”

“Shut up!” You literally stop her from speaking, your palm secured to close on her mouth—yet unable to manage the blush weeping your whole face to neck. You feel hot and bothered. “Stop talking about such things! I am just in a good mood. Ugh, you two are seriously perverts.”

“Yes, okay, we’ll stop before you burst your flaming ear.” Hoseok singsongs, utterly amused by your reaction. You shot him a look. “By the way, tomorrow is a long weekend. Do you both have any plans?”

“Besides taking care of my child? Nah, bro. Might have sex if he’s lucky and stop running his mouth too much. And we had to stay in my husband’s family house. Ugh.” Jane rolls her eyes whilst taking her own belongings. “I’m just happy we get to have dinner tonight. Tomorrow is going to be exhausting as fuck.”

“Dinner? What dinner?” You are weirded out, most absolutely did not expect to promise any dinner.

“My birthday dinner, of course!”

You whip your head towards the guy in a fancy red suit, completely looking dashing and silly at the same time. Well, that’s what you expect of him anyway, wearing such eye catching outfit in the middle of workday. “I sent the invites this Monday, and you said yes, Y/N.” He continues. “And you didn’t even congratulate me! How mean. But I’ll let you off since you’re cute.”

“But—but, I can’t! I have something else to do..” You stutter. Jungkook furrows his eyebrows at you.

“What? Watching netflix and eating popcorn? Nah, bro. You’re coming.”

“But, I’m serious! I’m sorry, but Seokjin is already downstairs, and he’s waiting for me. I can’t.. just leave him behind.” You weren’t going to say this, but Seokjin said he was craving lobster and asked you to go on a dinner with him. You really didn’t remember you had agreed to an appointment before with your workmate.

Jungkook stares at you in mild surprise. “He’s in the lobby? What happened with the two of you? I thought—”

“What are you saying, Jungkook? Isn’t it normal for a husband to get her wife from work?” Hoseok chuckles, and at once Jungkook is like awakened from his hallucination.

“Yes, of course. My bad.” He nervously chuckles, avoiding Hoseok’s eyes. “But he should come! It’s only going to be the four of us, and Namjoon. He’s waiting in the lobby too.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a great idea…”

“Seokjin should come! It would be fun, you know. I want to have dinner with him.” Jane smirks, and you sigh loudly, knowing that this would end in a huge disaster and you’ll end up regretting. Yet you find yourself thinking of what to say to Seokjin.

“Hi, Seokjin!”

Seokjin opens his window, smiling courtesy at Jane standing beside you. You remember Seokjin met few of your friends from work before. “Hi, Jane! Nice seeing you again. Are you heading home?”

“Not really. We are going to a restaurant! With Y/N too. You should come.”

He laughs, glancing at you. “Really? You didn’t say you had something to do.”

“I’m sorry, I forgot.” You frown in guilt. “It’s okay, I know we had plans—”

“No, I didn’t say that. We can come to the dinner with your friends too, if you want.” Seokjin chuckles, smiling dearly at you. You feel your breath hasten under his ministry. “Do you want that?”

Clearing your throat, you answer in nerves. “Yes, please. I promised to attend before, I guess I just forgot and thought I am free tonight.”

“Ah, I guess that’s why you’re all sooo chirpy today, aren’t you, Y/N?! I thought your teeth were about to fall off.” Jane beams, exhilarated as she elbows you. “Turns out you have a special occasion with your husband and forgot Jungkook’s birthday dinner.”

“That’s not it.” You glare at her, but she shrugs meaningfully.

“Okay, you two should head out. I’m with Hoseok.” Jane smiles and points at the blue car which you identify as Hoseok’s. “See you guys in a few minutes!”

“Sure.”

There is only silence in the car, when suddenly Seokjin breaks it with a question.

“Is it for Jungkook? That Jungkook—your friend that we met on our apartment?”

You don’t know what’s wrong, but your gut is telling you something is strange with his tone. You clear your throat of sheer awkwardness. “Yes. Today is his birthday, so he said he’d treat us to dinner.”

Seokjin seems uncomfortable. Living together for nearly two years has made you well aware of his small habit and gestures—by the way he clings on his collar, fingers tightening on the wheel as if he’s scared just shows you how he truly feels. At once, you quickly rests your palm on his shoulder, giving it a little squeeze. “Are you okay? You look.. nervous. We don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

Waiting for the red light, he heaves a deep breath and closes his eyes. His right hand settles on your hands which were on his shoulder, linking each finger. “I’m fine.” Seokjin sighs deeply, resting both your linked fingers on his thigh.

“I’m fine.” He repeats.

Now all you can hear is your own irregular heartbeat, with his warm palms against yours.

And you wonder. What the hell is wrong with yourself?

After arriving, Seokjin still doesn’t let your hand go. And it’s all kinds of confusing, two years of marriage he never acts like now. Not even when going to your parents house, and it leaves you with numerous questions. And with that particular look on his face—it scares the shit out of you.

“Ah, here comes the couple!” Jane giggles, pointing to the empty seats beside her. “You can sit here. Seokjin, meet Namjoon! He’s in Legal.”

Like that, all your friends are engaged in a conversation—while Seokjin, he’s sitting silently with heads hanging low. You glance at him, concerned. “Hey, are you okay? You look a bit off. Do you want me to get you anything?”

“Yes, your husband looks like he’s not really good. Is there anything wrong?” It is Jungkook, resting his wine back on the table. All of the eyes are now on the both of you. “Does this not work for you?”

“No, I’m sorry. Just a bit on the edge, that’s why. Don’t worry.” Seokjin smiles thinly, tapping his palm on the table. You nod hesitantly, regardless of the strangely tense air with him.

Whilst ordering, you are skimming on the menu when Jungkook jumps in. “Y/N, you like the shrimp here, right? You should order it.”

“Yes, I am thinking that too.” You tap your chin, and turn to Seokjin who is still staring far at the menu. “But I want to try the duck too. Seokjin, can’t you order that too? I don’t want to eat too much, I just want to have a bite.”

Seokjin is about to answer when Jungkook jovially interrupts, “Hey, there’s no need for that. You can order all you want. But if you insist, I’m ordering the duck, so you can have mine.”

“It’s okay, I’m having what my wife asked me to. Since I’m her husband. ” Seokjin curtly responds, and you are flabbergasted at how discourteous he sounded. The conversations on the table ended abruptly.

“I—I see. Suit.. yourself.” Jungkook blinks his eyes, completely bewildered at the hostile response. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be forward.”

You stare at him with multiple emotions rushing inside of you, yet he’s evidently trying to avoid it while shoving drinks down his throat like there’s no tomorrow.

“You’re driving tonight.” Seokjin mutters to you between drinks, and it sounds more like an order to your ear. There’s definitely something off with him, and you’re terrified of finding out. You’re scared if it will change him, you, and what you both had together.

“Are you going to be okay?”

Jungkook glances in concern at your drunk husband beside you, his hand is at the top of your car while you’re on the driver side. “He’s drunk. You sure you’re going to be okay? I can come with you.”

“No, it’s fine.” You reply. “I think he’s just not in a mood today. There must be something at work, I’ll try asking this tomorrow.”

“But I don’t like how jealous he was at me. I was just.. trying to be kind and offer to help. As a friend. And he immediately snaps like that.” Jungkook scowls in irritation. “It was borderline obsessive. And it’s not like you married for love—”

“Jungkook.” You stop him with reprimanding eyes that he stops immediately.

“I’m sorry.” He lets out a deep breath. “I never told you—or anyone about this, but my sister is a divorcee. Because her husband became obsessed with her.” You know where he is heading and are about to rebut, yet he continues. “I know what you want to say, but I’m just saying this so you’d know. They were in love. But you know it could easily turn to something else.”

“Thank you for your advice, but I know it won’t happen to me—Seokjin is not like that.” You mumble, somehow reminding yourself. It’s the first time Seokjin is like this, both of you were great at keeping boundaries, and were not even in love. You’ll be fine.

Jungkook sighs and smiles weakly, brushing the top of your head.

“I hope so too. Get home safe, kid.”

Waking up, the first thing Seokjin feels is his pulsate, a straight pang to his head. It’s been a long time since he had let himself off the limit and trashed himself until he blacked out, and he regrets every single second. The hazy memory starts to invade his mind—about how rude he had been yesterday, especially to you—and it literally freaks him out that he jumps out of his bed, desperate to explain. But you are not sleeping beside him. Or anywhere in the apartment.

“Fuck.” Seokjin hisses, bringing his phone and runs to the elevator in such hurries.

Are you... possibly gone?

“Seokjin, what are you doing here?”

“Y/N. Where have you been?” He questions, a little bit loud. He’s too caught tapping the elevator button that he doesn’t realize the other lift is opened with you walking out, soaking with sweat. “I wake up and you’re not there. You.. I thought you..”

“What did you think? I was just running a few laps since yesterday’s dinner was a bit much.” You shrug nonchalantly, taking off your earphone. “Aren’t you dizzy after waking up? You shouldn’t be out, though.”

Walking back to your apartment, Seokjin is trailing behind you like a disgruntled puppy—keeping his head down low as both his hands are clasped. “I’m very very sorry, Y/N..”

“What are you sorry for?” You ask, pretending nonchalance. Seokjin sits beside you with a frown on his face.

“I was being a jerk yesterday? And I drank too much and you must have a hard time dealing with my sorry ass.”

“Did anything happen? Can I know why you were so pissed off?” You ask carefully, afraid of invading his space. He shrugs.

“Something bothered my mind, that's all. Don’t worry about it.”

Seeing how sullen he has been with himself, you are unable to pull both his chubby cheeks to different directions. He groans loudly with each pull. “Yes, you were such a ill-tempered baby yesterday when you were drunk. Do you know that?”

He nods begrudgingly. “Yes, mother. I won’t do it again.”

“But apologizing isn’t going to solve anything. You know it.” You pretend sulk. “I think I deserve three wishes.”

Seokjin cocks his eyebrows. “Why? Why does it have to be three?”

“Nah, I watched Alladin and it was good, so I was just copying—but that’s not the point!” You tap the table impatiently. “The point is that you embarrassed me in front of my friend and deserves a punishment. Now say yes to my three wishes.”

Your husband groans, tapping on his forehead. “God, I’m never drinking again. What? What is it that you want?”

“I haven’t really thought about it, actually..” You giggle while scratching your head. Seokjin squint his eyes at you in suspicion. “Can you give me a week to think about it?”

“No.”

“Five days?”

“Right now. Take it or leave it.”

“Okay, by tomorrow!”

“Three wishes all by the end of this day.”

“Fine! You are annoying.” You scowl, tapping your forefinger on your chin. Seokjin grins. “First, I want…lobster for lunch.”

“Okay.” He holds the laughter upon remembering his yesterday’s request.

“And I want this new bag. I saw it on the newest catalogue yesterday, I want one. Buy it for me.” You send him a sugary smile.

“I see your wishes are getting more and more disproportionate.”

You scoff. “But you promised to grant it!”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t going to grant it.” Seokjin rolls his eyes, resting his palm on your shoulder, skimming it until his finger hangs to yours. Your breath hitches at how it practically tickles your whole being. “Is that all? Are you saving one for now?”

“Y-yes.” You stutter, mind already turning blank that you forgot your last wish.

“Good.” Seokjin beams, swiping his thumb on your knuckles. You stare through his eyes, adoring the beautiful twinkle that sends butterflies knocking on your stomach. How could he affect you like this?

W-wait, are you hallucinating or he is really closing in right now? I-is he.. about to kiss you?

Against your expectation, he suddenly halts and snorts. “Now go take a bath, because you stink.”

You push him away, walking to enter your bathroom with a face that has gone vermillion red—especially listening to his annoying squeaky laughter from the living room. You feel terribly embarrassed.

Did you really think he’s about to kiss you? And why the fuck do you have to act like a preteen girl having a crush on a classmate? This is literally super annoying how your body is acting strange—like you don’t even have control.

Ugh, you should never done anything dangerous with him again.

After having lunch in the lobster place, you and Seokjin drive to the cinema for the movie he pre-ordered last week. Sitting side by side with him, you find yourself hesitating.

You want to hold his hand so damn much.

And this never happened to you before. Watching with him always ends up with both of you pretending to fight for the popcorn, and you’ll be far apart from each other—just like you’re watching alone. The movie’s genre is thriller and suspense, yet horror didn’t even take it for you to finally lean into him or anyone, yet that evening, you want to hold him.

Closing in, you feel his shoulder closing on yours, leaning onto him as support. Seokjin looks at you in concern. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Y-yes! I’m fine, I just—“

“Is this movie boring for you? Or are you cold? You want more popcorn or drink?” He queries in concern at your jumpiness.

“No.” You murmur, embarrassed at your own thought. Fuck, what were you thinking? There is no possible reason at all on why you want to hold him, it’s not making any sense and it irks you on how conflicted you’re feeling. “I just… nothing.”

Glancing at you, Seokjin sees how you’re mouthing to yourself and hitting your own forehead with a deep frown—and he couldn’t bite his smile back. With one fluid motion, he loops his arms with yours and withers your small palm against his, tapping slightly the side of his head with yours.

“Let me know if you need anything else. Hmm?”

You blush hard, the creep of warmth running in your cheek like a wildfire. Clearing your throat, you decide to focus on whatever scene it is, not realizing how Seokjin glances at you from time to time, a toothy smile creeping in his face.

Walking out of the place, you were a bit panicked on seeing Seokjin again in broad light, but he’s still not letting go of your hands around his. You don’t know whether it’s a good sign or not—maybe you’re just afraid of finding out.

“Do you want to go window shopping? Maybe you’ll find that bag you want.” Seokjin offers, you are about to discard him—telling who the hell is still window shopping these days, or your desired bag is already on your online shopping cart, yet you don’t want to say so.

Maybe you just want to be with him a little bit longer.

Walking hand in hand to around the mall, both of you stop at the high end brand stores. Seokjin is about to walk in when you stop him. “Why are we entering this place? This is out of our budget.”

“Who said I want to buy you the bag from here? I want to see it for myself.” Seokjin lightly jokes, blowing raspberries and you scowl. Contrary to what he just said, Seokjin is directing you to the female side, where the tote bags are stacked. You laugh silently. Is he trying to be a tsundere now?

He looks at you and warmly smile. “See if there’s anything you like. I’m going to the restroom first, okay?”

You squint your eyes at him in fake suspicion. “You’re not leaving me here and fleeing home, right?”

“Busted.” He giggles and you grin. “Wait here, I’ll come back in a minute.”

After Seokjin leaves, you find yourself walking to see the bags in hesitance. Yet you know how expensive they are, and it even scares you to fall in love with a bag and realizing how struggling Seokjin has to be to buy it for you. The thought immediately retrains you from taking the tawny colored bag which catches your eyes the most.

“Y/N? Is that you?”

You look back at the voice calling your name, and finding the person that hasn't even crossed your mind to be there. It’s Park Jimin, with his trademark eye smile peering curiously at you. “It is you! How have you been?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” You smile at him, a little bit surprised to see him here, even talking to you. Well, maybe the years of your troubling childhood does have its own reminder in the form of this man. “I haven’t seen you in so long.”

“Ah, yes. After moving from Busan to Seoul, I am just living my life, I guess. Got engaged a few years ago, my fiancé and I moved to Sydney for school, and I headed back for the time being for her.” He smiles jovially, letting you know things more than you expect him to. You nod with a hint of hesitation—a bit surprised that he’s still practically the same him from your childhood. Guess nothing really changes to a spoilt kid from birth.

“Honey, I have five items already on the cashier, won’t you—who is this?”

The woman is peering closely at you, the evident staring feels deadly uncomfortable on your skin. You know that look—she is judging you from top to bottom, whether you qualify as someone she should feel competitive with. But you don’t really want to spoil your great mood from the morning and reply nonetheless. “I’m Y/N, an old friend of Jimin. Nice to meet you.”

“Hi.” She responds rudely, and turns to Jimin. “Aren’t we going after paying?”

“Wait, I still want to talk with her. You can use this.” Jimin opens up his wallet, giving her a card and she leaves almost immediately. “I’m sorry, she can be like that sometimes.”

You shrug nonetheless. “I can see that.”

Ignoring your obvious sarcasm, Jimin continues. “So, where are you going? Do you want to have dinner with us? We should meet up again sometimes, you know—“

“Y/N.”

Turning to the man calling your name, it turns out to be your husband, staring at the both of you with jaw ticked and cold stare. And Jimin is no different, completely startled with the fact that it is Seokjin calling your name. At once, you feel estranged with the tense in the air.

“Seokjin. Hi, this is Jimin, my old friend. Jimin, this is Seokjin, my husband.”

Seokjin is the one to answer, tone blunt. “I know.”

After long pregnant silence, Jimin clears his throat, and gives your husband a thin smile. “Hi Seokjin. Nice to see you again.”

“You two know each other?” You glance at both men with curiosity written in your face.

“Yes, Jimin was my junior in college. We were friends.” Seokjin answers with venom, and nobody can miss the way he pronounced the past tense. Jimin seems uncomfortable as well, trying to ignore the older guy and smiles at you.

“I didn’t know you’re married. When was the wedding? Why wasn’t I invited?” He laughs to discard the tense air, yet you can still sense the awkwardness coloring his tone.

“Ah, around two years ago, I think. My mother gave yours the invitation, but I guess it doesn’t work. It’s fine.” You shrug, keeping your courtesy no matter how much you want to shout what the fuck is going on with those two men.

“I am sorry, but I’ll send a gift your way. It’s very impolite of us.” Jimin offers kindly, but Seokjin cuts straight away.

“We don’t need it. Save your money to whom it belongs.”

You glare at Seokjin who is throwing his sight somewhere else. He never was impolite like this, and it stresses you out—the fact that you’re kept in the dark makes you feel like you’re basically second to nothing between the two of them.

“Seokjin? Is that you?”

Jimin’s fiancé comes back with countless bags in her hand, and you can hear the loud enough snicker from Seokjin. “Ah, as expected.”

The girl looks surprised, to say the least. “What are you doing here? With her? Who is this girl?”

At the condescending tone, you immediately turn defensive. She had no reason to talk to you and Seokjin like that. “Excuse me?”

“Baby, don’t be like that. Y/N here is Seokjin’s wife.” Jimin murmurs softly to his fiancé, and the bitch still has the nerves to scoff with a sleazy smirk.

“Ah, finally. I am glad you finally got your shit together, stopped thinking about me and moved on.” She loops her hand around Jimin, rising her chin high. Your jaws are a second away from falling to the ground. What the hell is going on?! “And are you sure you can go here? Isn’t this too expensive for you?”

“What the fuck—”

You are ready to throw hands, but Jimin quickly pulls her away and so is Seokjin’s hands clasped on yours to hold you back.

“Stop it. Let’s just go home.”

Hanging his head low, both of you walk to the parking lot in deafening silence. Seokjin’s face is now cloudy and dark, nose and eyes are turned red and you know he is this close to crying. You chest stings at how much in pain he seems. You have so many questions, yet you know he needs more time to figure out his own.

Trying to reach the car keys from his pocket, he can’t seem to find it and somehow ends up choking his own tears. Feeling terrible on how he must feel, you go to his side, helping him check his other pocket. “I’ll drive.” You softly say to him after, and he silently goes to the passenger side.

Night comes, and you stare at your bedroom door. Seokjin has been holed up inside the room after you both went home, and did not come out even for a drink. You knew he needed space, and you stayed in the living room to watch your series, but it’s been too long that you are on alert since this has never quite happened before.

You wake up from your seat, walking to the kitchen as you are about to prepare dinner. Mushing up your doubtful cooking skill, you cook a chicken pasta and union ring, even called his favorite donuts on delivery.

After all the food is ready, you knock on the door. “Seokjin, dinner is ready. Come out, will you?”

“I am not really hungry.” He answers softly, and you roll your eyes.

“Don’t kid me, we both know you are never not hungry.” Your joke is met with no response. “Are you really going to be like this? Come out and let’s have dinner. I already cooked for us.”

A moment of silence. “Are you sure it’s edible?”

You scowl, albeit kind of relieved that his sarcasm is still in place. “It’s not, but I’m still going to shove it down your throat until you’re begging me to stop.”

Seokjin ends up coming out, and you immediately frown at him. His face is disheveled, eyes bloodshot red, trail of tears on both his cheek and his hair is all over the place.

“Hey, you look ugly.”

He scoffs. “Thank you for the encouragement.”

“I am serious! You look uglier than that time we went to Bali and you shit yourself because of eating too much spices.” You giggle, and Seokjin hisses. Your way of consoling people is indeed very debatable.

“I remembered Bali. Such a great time.” Regardless, Seokjin smiles fondly at the memory. It was for your honeymoon slash not really a honeymoon, since all you did was to spend your work’s wedding free leave. You and Seokjin registered for Bali’s backpacker packet where both of you were able to explore the true nature and culture of Bali, instead of staying in a five star hotel and fucking till dawn like most honeymoon. It was breathtaking, to say the least.

After settling on the dining table, you scoop a portion and hand it to him. “Eat. I also ordered your favorite donuts, it will be here in a few minutes.”

Seokjin gives you a thankful smile, acknowledging your effort to make him feel better.

After a whole half an hour of eating in silence, you open a conversation. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He looks to you, and lower his sight back to his plate. “This is good.”

You sigh, folding your hands on the table. Seokjin might feel uncomfortable and you understand he needs time, but you also know that he needs to share it with someone else, or the feeling will drown him instead. “You know, there is no good keeping it inside.” You breath out. “I want to know what happened with you.”

A few minutes of silence. “How do you know Jimin?” He asks instead.

“He was my childhood friend in Busan, before his father hit it big and they moved to Seoul. We used to play together. He was a classmate, and my only friend at that time.”

Seokjin cocks his eyebrow. “Only that? Why does it seem like it’s not just friends? Like he really is glad to see you.”

You shrug. “Yeah, it was.. kind of weird. You know how kids were. We were really close, and I kind of confessed… that I liked him before he went away.”

A particular hit on the plate causes you to flinch, a deep frown on Seokjin’s supple lips. “But it was in the past, right?” He confirms with no hint of playing, and you feel something settle strangely in your chest.

Is it possible that he is jealous?

You chase the thoughts away and curtly reply. “Of course. I was 10 for god’s sake, I didn’t even really like him.”

“I don’t even know why you like the guy. Was Busan really lacking in handsome boys?” Seokjin grumbles, munching soundly on the onion ring. “You should have seen me when I was a kid, I bet you’ll like me instead. I've been handsome since I was even a baby.”

“I’ve seen your schoolbook photo, but I’ll just go with whatever you say.” You giggle on his nonsense—even though he’s clearly not lying. He’s probably the most handsome person you’ve laid your eyes upon, that it was quite surprising he didn’t decide to fuckboy himself and settle down with you instead.

Ten minutes pass in silence before you continue. “Can I say my last wish?” You ask carefully. Seokjin nods, a bit uncertain.

“Tell me what happened? With Jimin. And his fiancé too.” You hum, fidgeting with your fingers. “I just wanted to know, but it is okay if you don’t want to tell me.”

Seokjin sighs, rests his utensils and drinks the water before continuing. “It’s just.. hard. His wife, Dakyung was actually my girlfriend for a long time. We’ve been together since high school. At that time, she wasn’t really well off—his parents are struggling financially, but I was more than glad to support her getting the money to support her family.”

“We were together for like eleven years, I guess? I loved her very much, we’ve been through nearly everything and stood strong. I didn’t want to be with anyone else. I only wanted her. Being with anyone else never crossed my mind.” He softly explains, yet you don’t know why you feel yourself constricting with every word. It’s hurting you to see how pained he was, the beautifully carved words meant for someone else. “So around four years ago, I think? I bought an engagement ring for her. I was going to propose—but I guess you know the rest.”

“Did she.. cheat on you?” You ask carefully. Seokjin stares at you and nods, sadness written all over his face.

“I just found out when I was going to surprise her in her apartment. She… was in bed with.. Jimin.”

“What?!” You shouts in disbelief. “Jimin, your college friend fucked your girlfriend of eleven years?”

“Yes, and I don’t know what happened too, but at that time what I remembered was Jimin pleading for her to break up with me, and she said yes, asking for him to wait for the right time. But who am I kidding? It was a good choice at her part. Jimin is crazy rich, handsome and good too. Anything a girl wants, right?”

“Hey, don’t be like that.” You mutter, resting your palm over his as a consolation. “Money is not everything, and she’s trading that for eleven years of happiness with you. It’s her loss.”

“Maybe it’s not, Y/N. At that time, I realized that maybe it was indeed my fault. I, like a fucking fool, still wanted to be better for her. Even after I knew she was cheating on me, I tried holding on to her, so the next day I asked her to meet me and still proposed. I would do anything to make her happy. And as expected, she rejected me.”

“Seokjin…” You whisper, a tear welling on the corner of your eyes on how broken he must have felt.

“She immediately eloped with Jimin, and both moved to Sydney for school. But I guess in a way, I’ve never moved on. I was always trying to contact her, sending her emails or messages until she had enough and blocked me. I was depressed. The one that I loved for eleven years, left me just like that.”

Seokjin stares at you, meaningfully. And you’re about to hear something that breaks your whole being.

“And then, I just knew I’d never love again.”

You don’t know what happened with you—and Seokjin, but in a way you’ve been distancing yourself from him, and the gesture is mutual. Seokjin never came home early, and not that you ask him anymore. He always came home whenever you were already asleep, and when you wake up, he’d be gone. Even with the current withdrawal, you still find breakfast on the table, courtesy of him. Yet you’d rather he not.

I just knew I’d never love again.

It hurts. It hurts like hell when he really said that he’ll never love again. In a way, you know you’ve been feeling something for your husband—that you crave for his attention and care, and to know that he might never reciprocate the way you want him to. Hurts like a bitch.

But it’s all on you. It is clear as crystal that love is not even the foundation of your marriage, so if anything happens to your foolish heart, it’s all on you. You shouldn’t have taken this lightly. You should’ve known that you are weak at heart, and you’ll fall for him anyway.

Because he is the greatest guy you have ever met.

The compassion, kindness and caring that he has, it’s beyond comprehension. You don’t know how someone can be so understanding like he is, the way he takes care of you and wants nothing in return, that sincerely wants the best for you—even without love—succeeds in making you fall head over heels for him.

God, you really are a fool.

“Hey, Y/N, what’s wrong?”

You look to your left, seeing Hoseok scrutinizing at you in worry, now Jane is already beside him. “You’ve been whimpering since morning, and now you’re crying. Is there anything wrong?”

“Nothing, I am sorry for disturbing you all.” You swipe your tear stained cheeks, standing from your seat. “I’m getting some air, okay? I’ll see you guys later.”

Half-running, you enter the elevator and swiftly exit the building, trying to breathe as clear as you could—no matter how it might hurt you. God, you hate being vulnerable. You hate being weak. You hate being in love—an unrequited one, at that. Why can’t you just put your heart together? Why do you have to like him now, after two years of not caring whether he even fucked someone else behind your back?

A whisper in your mind tells you that probably, these two years have been too great with him. Maybe, because he never gave you space for doubt. Maybe, you are already dependent on him without you knowing. Maybe, you take your feelings for granted.

“Y/N, are you okay? Why are you crying?” Someone stares at you in shock, and turns out it is Jungkook. His arm is around your shoulder. “I just finished a meeting and wanted to get coffee and found you here instead. Are you okay? Did something happen?”

“Is it weird that I felt sad because I finally—finally have feelings for my husband? Like… this supposed to happen before marriage, right?”

“Oh, Y/N..” Jungkook sighs. “What happened?”

And like that, you fill him in on what happened between you and Seokjin, and it leaves him furrowing his eyebrows. “So.. you telling me that you think Seokjin still couldn’t forget his ex?”

You process his sentence for a while, and reply with a hesitant nod. Jungkook exhales loudly. “That’s not it, Y/N. I don’t think he’s still in love with his ex, he is... just scared. He is scared of the pain of his past, and he is scared of opening up to someone. Just like you. And with the way you are acting right now, it’s not fixing anything you both are feeling right now.”

“But he said he’ll never love again..”

“I couldn’t believe you even believe that bullshit.” Jungkook frowns. “That girl betrayed him. She gave him literally a thousand reasons to move on. He just needs time to adjust, and a couple of facts slapped to his face. He’ll come around.”

“Do… do you think I should.. talk to him about this?”

“No. You can just shut up and hope he can read your mind.” Jungkook rolls his eyes, heavily sarcastic. “Talk to him, Y/N. You trust him, right?”

“I do.” You whisper to yourself, strangely motivated. “I do trust him.”

Well, it turns out trust is not a really firm base for confronting your own husband to the mess you made. After you called Seokjin to pick you up after work to get dinner together, he was visibly surprised at your request since you’re usually not the type to begin conversation after a fight—you never even asked to be picked up before. You yourself don’t even know whether it would be a good idea, but Seokjin’s easy agreement does make it better.

When you enter the car, he is the first to greet with a warm smile, and it reminds you that you haven’t seen it for so long now—you might even miss it. “Hey.”

“Hi, Seokjin.” You let out a nervous chuckle. “Thank you for picking me up. I’m just.. feeling a bit out of it to take the train. I hope it’s okay.”

“Of course it is. I told you a million times I’ll pick you up if you can, you’re the one who rejected me.” He giggles lightly, glancing at you. “Thank you too.”

“For what?”

“For reaching out? I know past week we’ve been.. kinda avoiding each other. I didn’t know how to.. start since I was the problem in the first place.” He scratches his nape in shame. “I am very sorry, by the way. It was very immature of me.”

“No, it’s not. I totally understand.” You respond quickly. “And I didn’t know what happened, I have no rights to judge. It was your pain, and I am just glad you want to share it with me.”

Unexpectedly, Seokjin chuckles. “Why are you so sweet today.”

“Let me know if you want my sass back, I’ll gladly serve it to you.” You retaliate, even your inside are churning with nerves.

“You know I accepted you for who you are—you can be anything you want.” Seokjin brushes the top of your head with a toothy grin that leaves you a breathy mess.

“You are so cheesy today.” You respond briskly, noticing that you have arrived at the designated restaurant. Seokjin parks the car swiftly, and when there’s only silence inside, he turns on the lights on top of him.

“I have something for you.”

“What?”

“Look at the backseat.”

You glance at the backseat, finding an oak brown bag that somehow feels familiar. You quickly pick it up and open it. Turns out it is the exact beautiful brown bag that has catched your eyes from your previous window shopping session—before Jimin comes into the picture. You squeal in delight. “What is this?! Are you seriously giving this to me?”

“No, I’m giving it to Grandma Lee, our neighbor. Who else?” He smirks and you smack him lightly on the shoulder before adoring your bag once more.

“This is very pretty, though. How could you know which one I liked?”

“Well, let’s just say I know you better than you think? I practically know what you liked. This one greatly matches your outfits too. You know I have a great fashion sense.” He winks.

“I’ll let your last sentence pass because I’m very touched right now. Thank you, Seokjin.” You beam in joy, adoring the bag.

Seokjin nods, and when you rest the bag carefully on the backseat, he suddenly pulls you close for a hug—his arms around your waist, your chin settles on his shoulder. His spontaneity literally leaves you breathless, the heat is blooming around your cheek at the close proximity. God, you wish he couldn’t hear your drumming heartbeat.

“Thank you for being such a great friend and partner. I’m so thankful we are married, you know?”

You grimace in pain. God, the sound of your heart breaking is really audible in your ear. Oh, how you wish he had known.

And in the end, you are the loser in this game you played with yourself, because you most absolutely didn’t say a thing, yet you’re enjoying every second of being in love by yourself, making up scenarios and wondering if he feels the way you do.

It is ridiculous how greatly it has been played—considering how caring he usually is, yet it’s not even rare for him to say that you’re different in a way. He never explained in detail, but even you know what’s different. You started calling him frequently between work, asking when he’ll be home, his opinion on little things, or if he wanted to eat anything. It’s the small things that you’re hoping he’ll catch, yet it seems like something trivial for him and it lowkey upsets you.

One evening, you’re already waiting for him in the apartment, determined to finally tell him about what you feel—that you love him and hope he feels the same way. Jungkook was right—you can’t lounge around waiting for him. There’s no shame in starting first, especially when knowing it’s him you’re falling in love with.

Yet the clock strikes nine, he has not arrived yet. The food you prepared since six has already turned cold, and you start to feel wary, glancing nervously at the door—since he said he’ll be home around eight and is already late by an hour. You already tried calling him, but it is met with no response. His phone is on and well, yet he’s not replying. So you wait while watching the news.

Car crash. A man. Blue toyota. On the road of his way back home. You immediately reach for your phone, calling his number in panic.

Could it be?

It’s already midnight when Seokjin opens his apartment door, expecting darkness—but instead he finds you sleeping on the couch, phone clutched on your chest. He closes in, a thin smile formed on his lips as his fingers soothes the creases of your crouching eyebrows, but it somehow sends you flinching on your spot. You are now wide awake.

“Seokjin, when are you home?” You demand, as his pupils dilate of confusion.

“I just arrived. Sorry, I was—”

“I thought you died, you moron!” You shouts immediately. “Car crash news was on, man driving a blue toyota. I was so scared it was you that I even called the police, yet they said the victim is still in the hospital, I couldn’t know the identity. I was so scared...” You don’t even know why you’re tearing up right now—but the emotion is overwhelming, you must be talking nonsense.

Seokjin blinks, confused. “I’m sorry, I left my phone on mute. I forgot to let you know...”

You don’t even want to hear the rest, as you quickly storm off to your bed and force yourself to sleep, muffling your cries. The feeling you had for the last few hours, the horror of thinking Seokjin might be laid in blood on the street is something you’d rather not experience now or ever.

In a few minutes, you feel the bed dips beside you. Seokjin is there.

“Are you still awake?” He softly asks, but you decide to ignore him and closes your eyes.

“I am very sorry. I didn’t know… this would happen. But I should’ve let you know.”

You clearly know what he refers to. You usually don’t give a shit if he’d even come in dawn, but now you’re crying and throwing a fit when it’s not even something to fuss about. It’s only you and your overreacting fear.

“Get some sleep, we’ll talk in the morning, okay?” He whispers as he tucked the blanket closer to you, stroking the top of your head carefully.

The next morning, you wake up to the delicious smell of baked cheese. Unable to hold your scoff, you decided to stay a little bit on bed just to pisses him off. Frankly, you are still slightly vengeful for last night, with this urge to let him know your annoyance has not worn off.

So when he walks in and softly taps your shoulder, you are silent. “Hey. It’s already seven, you need to take a shower and come eat breakfast, hmm?” He persuades, but you turn your back to him, and Seokjin huffs at your petty acts, yet the guilt is still seeping in his chest.

Seokjin sighs. “I’m sorry, I didn’t let you know work is unexpectedly late. I don’t want to make excuses, as I know it’s all my fault. I won’t do it again.”

At the sincerity in his tone, your anger quickly washes off, but still you’re doubtful on how to answer his apology. Should you just say yes? Or should you pretend anger?

“Hey, look at me.” Seokjin impatiently pulls you to face him, both his palms are on the sides of you. His eyes bore into yours, and you instantly turn stiff with his face so close.

He takes a deep breath. “I’m very, very sorry, Y/N. I promise I’ll do my best in letting you know if something came up at work and not make you worry anymore.”

“I like you.”

You wonder whose word that is, but it turns out to be you. It’s literally you who said those three words that you have been practicing since last night. You didn’t even know why it’s coming out right now, it’s just the way he looks at you right now—it’s the first thing you want him to know.

“What?” He looks mildly bewildered.

“I like you, Seokjin. I… I don’t know when or how, but I really, really like you.” You confess. You finally confess, yet the way Seokjin looks immediately puts you in horror. That’s absolutely not the look you expected from him.

He laughs with sheer awkwardness. “Of course, we are married. You know I like you too, Y/N.” Yet you know he meant differently.

You know everything will go south the moment you try to say what you truly meant, yet you don’t want to lie anymore. You are tired of hiding what you’re feeling. “I am serious. I like you, in that way. I might even love you. The past two years, we’ve been with each other and I seriously couldn’t be happier with what we both had. I know this is not what we both planned—”

“It’s most absolutely not.” He cuts, distancing himself from you, face filled with panic.

“—but I want you to know. I want to try this, Seokjin. I know you might need some time, and what I feel might be one-sided, but I want you to know and try this. With me.”

A moment of silence to tense that you can slice it to choke yourself—when it’s only you and him who is avoiding your gaze. He then scoots off the bed, and you feel like you can’t breathe.

“I… I’m gonna go. You should finish your breakfast.”

And then he left.

The misery doesn’t end there. You never felt someone could be so physically close yet so far away like what he’s putting between the two of you right now. For a straight week he literally never came home earlier than nine, and when he did, he’d sleep on the couch. And fuck did it hurt to sleep knowing he is out of your reach. You never know love could hurt like this—maybe you trusted him too much with your heart.

Saturday, you left a note that you’ll be off to your parents house for the weekend, and even then Seokjin didn’t contact you. And coming back home, your parents fortunately didn’t fuss as much, maybe since you just said you needed time away from him.

The night comes, you are lounging in your room when your phone rings. At once you quickly jump to retrieve it, frown when seeing its a social media notification instead.

From : @pjmin

Hi, Y/N, this is Jimin! Hope you are doing well :) [21:29]

I know this is a bit hurried, but if possible, are you up to meet for coffee tomorrow? [21:29]

It’s okay if you can’t, just want to talk and catch up while I’m in town [21:30]

Let me know! [21:31]

Albeit doubtful, you are indeed curious about what he wants to talk about, knowing it must have something to do with Seokjin. Unable to hold your curiosity, you agree to a time and place with him.

Tomorrow, you walk into the agreed coffee shop, finding Jimin already seated, sipping on his beverages. You carefully pay attention to him, and notice he indeed has changed so much from that average kid you met when you were kids. Well, not that you have any rights to comment though.

“Hi.” He greets with a smile after you are seated in front of him. “I ordered you something. Hope you’re okay with caramel frappucino. You still like sweets?”

“Ah, I’m fine with anything. Thanks. And yes, I still like them. Kinda surprised you still remember, though.” You joke. Jimin lips curls.

“Well, the memory of a kid eating four cotton candy in one sitting until she passed out from high blood sugar is not really something one could forget.” He giggles, and you roll your eyes. Well, your childhood is indeed not a pretty one. “It was rather traumatizing, I could say.”

After a moment of catching up on how he’s currently doing right now, you mindlessly ask him. “So, where is your fiancé? I thought she’ll be with us here.”

Jimin instantly dims at the mention. “Uh… We broke up.”

You stop your movement and gape at him in disbelief. “Seriously? Why?”

“Well, let’s just say once a cheater is always a cheater?” Jimin stares down at his drinks. “Not in that way, though. In the beginning, my family never really liked her, that’s why I’ve been holding off from marriage—no matter how much she pleaded to. We actually came back to get married, and get blessings. And just yesterday, my father sent me a whole report of her financial statement, slush funds, and everything. Well, there’s just too much thing she’s hiding behind my back.”

“Jimin…” You mutter, feeling bad for the guy. But still, you are unable to scoff at how blinded he has been. The girl is no doubt is using him for his money—and he just realized it now?

“I know what you’re thinking. I must be a damn fool to just realize it now.” He humorlessly laughs, correctly reading your mind. “But maybe I was hoping she’ll one day change. I must be a total dumbass.”

“Yeah, you kinda are.” You had enough of holding back, and it surprises Jimin with your forwardness. You grin regardless. “But that’s okay. Everybody makes mistakes, right? We just gotta live with it.”

“Yeah.” He agrees with a saddened smile. “I know it doesn’t quite make sense telling this to Seokjin’s wife, but… I don’t know. I want you to know that I regretted it. I really shouldn’t have done that—cheating behind his back. Maybe this is karma, anyway. I deserved this.”

You sigh. “You know that you shouldn’t be saying that to me, right? You should tell it straight to Seokjin.”

Jimin sighs, like it has been bugging his mind for a long time now. “But of course he wouldn’t want to see me. And I have a flight tonight, back to Sydney, so I don’t think I’ll be able to.”

“Well, maybe an apology had to wait, then.” You shrug, and Jimin frowns. “You were his friend, Jimin. And I know if I were him, I’d want it coming from you.”

“I guess so. You were right.” He exhales loudly. “Thank you for that too. And agreeing to meet me. I’m really glad we talked. And don’t forget to stay in contact, okay?”

You hum with a wide smile. “Thank you too, Jimin.”

“Oh, I nearly forgot. I brought this for your wedding present.” Jimin crouches, retrieving a gift box as he displays a sincere beam. “I don’t know if Seokjin would like that I’m giving you this, but, yeah. I am very glad that you’re together. You guys seriously could be the best couple I know.”

You fiddly laugh when reminded of the current turmoil of your marriage. Well, he's better off not knowing, though. “You really shouldn’t have, but thank you for this.”

Well, you do hope that whatever Jimin’s gift is, Seokjin is still there to use them.

Sunday, you spend lounging on your bed, staring at the gift from Jimin, opened and stacked on your desk. You are still unable to comprehend his thoughtfulness. He gave you a couple bathrobe, a bottle of expensive Bordeaux Wine with two antique wine glasses. You messaged him thank you, and Jimin only sent a wink emoticon as an answer.

And then you are reminded of Seokjin’s scar. What happened with his ex, it was because he was too kind. He was too trustful, and it hurt to let go of someone you’ve been with for nearly half of your life and betrayed you like that. He is really the kindest soul out there—and then you realize that you missed him dearly. You wonder what he might be doing right now. Is he just as distraught as you are? Is he thinking about you as well?

In the middle of your wandering thoughts, your phone abruptly chimes. Finding an unknown number in the other line, you answer hesitantly. “Hello?”

“Hi, Y/N. This is Yoongi, Seokjin’s friend.”

It’s been a long time since you heard from him and you rise to sit, mildly perturbed. “Yes. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Not really. Apologize if I’m too forward, I know there’s a bit of problem at bay, but I know Seokjin’s dying to talk to you, and has been stressing about it since god-knows-when. He’s in my apartment now, can you… get him? Lounging in my apartment drinking is not going to solve anything.” He huffs lightly, and you sigh in distress.

“I know. But I am now in my parents house. Do you think.. I should just come?”

An evil laugh is heard on the other end. “No, that’s unnecessary. I know what’s even better that will help with this whole thing.”

Closing his call in daze, you are still waiting for the plan—but not even an hour in, a rushed knock is already heard from your front door. In a blink, Seokjin is on your bedroom door, carefully opening it.

“Y/N?” He softly calls your name. “Are you… okay?”

Well, the scared look on his face does make you kind of guilty. Yoongi must have told him lies that you’re sick, and then he didn’t even spend another second and went straight to you. You have no idea what to feel, decide to hide yourself under your blanket.

“Hey, look at me.” He rushes, tapping the side of your arm carefully, but you are still unbudging. Impatiently, he effortlessly tugs the blanket off of you, until you are looking at him with a frown in your face. He rests his palm on your forehead, to your neck, baffled. “Are you sick? Yoongi told me you have high fever.”

“Well, I think Yoongi lied because he wanted to chase you out of his apartment.” You scowl, turning your face with a hint of blush on your face. You never know seeing him again could be this difficult. “I heard you’ve been a parasite to him.” You tease, slightly smiling.

“Yoongi, that disrespectful shithead.” Seokjin hisses under his breath, but it’s obvious that he is avoiding your eyes. He straightens and clears his throat. “Okay then. I think… I should go home. Are you going to stay here?”

“Seokjin…” You call, holding on his wrist from leaving. “Are you angry at me?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “I am not angry at you.”

“But you are avoiding me. And we don’t even talk anymore. This is not how we used to handle problems. What’s wrong?” You persist, determined to end this cold war with him.

Seokjin sighs. “I am just… scared.”

“What are you scared of?”

“I am scared of disappointing you.” He is visibly downcasted. “I know what you meant, Y/N. But I also know that I can’t be… what you want me to be. I can’t seem to forget... her. I don’t want to hurt you, or myself. And I know It’s difficult, and I don’t want to put you into that pain. It’s better this way.”

“I never pressured you into anything.” You reply, your voice started shaking. “I just want you to know, and try this with me. And you know holding onto something that has hurt you is not going to work, Seokjin. Please, please stop hurting yourself and try this. With me.”

“I-I can’t.” He hurriedly mutters, intending to walk out before you hold him back, crushing yourself into his arms, your tears burst into loud sobs.

For a good ten minutes, you spend it crying on his arms, tears wetting his white shirt. You don’t know what you feel—you’re dejected, sad, disappointed, angry, too many emotions that overwhelms your whole being but can only come in tears when he’s around. “Seokjin, I like you. Why can’t you give us a chance? Are you… that disgusted with me?”

At the self depreciating cries, he quickly looks down, both palms are on either side of your face. “Don’t be like that. I adore you so much, Y/N. Don’t hurt yourself because of me.”

“There’s no way I can’t be sad if you’re still hurting yourself. I just want you to be happy—with me. Is that so hard?” You weep, hiding yourself back to his chest. “I hate this. You know how much I hate crying.”

“Then you shouldn’t have cried that much.” He scolds, stroking your scalp like he usually does—and you slightly feel comforted at his familiar gesture.

After another ten minutes just hugging it out, he finally leans into you resting his head on top of yours, taking a deep breath of nerves.

“Okay. Let’s try then. But please be patient with me, hmm? I’ll try my hardest for us.”

“Good morning, sleepyhead!”

He shuffles in his sleep, but is unmoving. You frown, and call him one more time yet still met with no response. Huffing, you scoot closer to him, and clasp his nose to hamper him from breathing. At your disturbance he groans, finally opening his eyes. “Why are you waking me up now… This is still dawn.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have started getting back into gaming now. This is already half past seven, mister. Take a shower before you’re late.” You remind him, and as expected he already has two feet on the ground, running to the shower.

And as a kind and dutiful wife, you help him by preparing his outfits. You chose a nice blue themed suit this time, paired with a nice tie you bought him a few months back. Walking out with a towel wrapped around his waist, you are unable to hold your eyes from straying low. Damn, he really be packing like that, huh?

“What are you looking at, huh?” Seokjin squints his eyes at you, taking the prepared clothes. “Don’t look at me like that. I know I’m a whole snack, but I’m not a sexual object.” He jokes while wiggling eyebrows, and you scoff loudly when you can’t find a sassy reply for him.

You decide to wait in the living room, trying to calm your heartbeat. God, you’re such a loser, now even his bare chest can stupefy you like that.

Regardless, you're more than content with the current relation with you and Seokjin. Both you definitely have gotten better, a bit more identical to wife and husband—even if it's probably only for you. You are trying your hardest for him, and when you know he can’t instantly fall at your feet and love you the way you do, you are satisfied. At least he’s not pushing you away.

“I’m a bit late for breakfast, but thank you for this.” He whispers, pointing to the pack of food you prepared for him. Noticing what’s missing, you pick the tie from his grasp, and circle around his neck and putting it on for him. He visibly stiffen on your arms.

After finished, you brush his suit’s shoulder and take a step back with a smile. “Let me know when you’ll be home, okay?”

“Okay.” He agrees and softly smiles. “See you.”

And then, he leaves a tender peck on your left cheek and exits the room.

You literally can’t stop smiling the whole day.

One thing that you never really told anyone, is that you never had true sex. Like you had it once or twice in high school, but those annoying jerks never let you even finish and all you were left was disappointment. During college, you were too ambitious for your studies, so the thought of sleeping around was not on your agenda, and you never really believed in love or relationships. So when the thought of sex enters your mind this morning, it was quite frightening.

Having your lunch with only Jungkook, you decided to tell him your concern. He is quite shocked to say the least. “What the—you want to have sex with him? Finally?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” You exhale, pushing away your food in disinterest. “This few days we are making progress. So I don’t know—isn’t sex always the solution? I thought it would do some good for us.”

“Well, it’s indeed a solution for most problems, I would say.” He giggles between words, and you roll your eyes in disgust. “But I don’t know about Seokjin. I must say—the man really has outstanding self control. Sleeping on one bed with a woman for two straight years and still hasn’t initiated sex? Crazy. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had been sleeping around before.”

The thought immediately darkens your whole mood, and Jungkook realizes his slips. “—or, he’s just a good masturbator? Nobody knows, Y/N, especially not me. Ha ha ha.” He nervously chuckles, sipping his drinks. “And the minority of men are not that much of an sex-fueled animal. He must be good at keeping his hands to himself, and please don’t mind what I said.”

What Jungkook said might be haunting you a bit that you request to get home early—when instead you’re going to the mall for shopping. You went straight to the ladies side where all kinds of bras or lingerie is available, but you literally have no clue what’s useful for your case. Already desperate, you finally call Jane for advice, discarding the huge probability of damage that you’ll be teased or ridiculed.

“Oh my god! That’s very fun. I still can’t believe you lied to the boss because you’re preparing to bone your husband tonight.” Jane cackles, truly amused. “God, I miss those alone times with my husband. Don’t have kids too soon, Y/N. Be happy with your husband.”

“Stop rambling and help me pick!” You hiss, realizing a few stares has caught on you. She giggles, and then proceeds to help you pack home a black lacy three piece lingerie that will instantly shock your mother if she ever sees—which she said would ‘even spice up a fifty years old marriage’.

You don’t even know how that’s possible, or why you even asked her for advice in the first place.

Waiting for your train home, you hold your shopping bag close to your chest, slightly embarrassed. You don’t know what you should do then—should you just wear it and surprise him in the living room when he comes home? Or lay in your bed while trying to tease him? How does that actually work?

In front of your apartment, suddenly a call arrives. Seokjin. “Hey, Y/N. Work is a bit much today, I think I’ll be late. Will be home around nine, maybe. But can you wait for me? I forgot to bring my keys.”

Agreeing mindlessly, you sigh after ending the call, looking to the bag on your grasp. You really had a bad feeling about this.

It’s quarter to nine, Seokjin is already on the way home and you are already all cleaned up. You started with a good, long warm shower and shaves, curled your hair, and put up a light makeup. You even tried watching porn for learning purposes—but instantly grossed out after a few failed attempts at finding a good one. Well, maybe you should just kiss him and not say or do a thing you’ll regret.

Jungkook was right, though. There’s no way Seokjin can handle two long years without sleeping around. Yet even the thoughts of him sleeping with other girls leaves you qualmish. In the middle of your busy thoughts, the bell suddenly rings at the door.

“Y/N? Are you there? Can you please open this?”

Walking with your heels on, your head is in haze at the thoughts of him seeing you like this. God, you start having second thoughts. Should you just run inside and change your clothes? But the remembrance of the price of this lingerie instantly blanches you. You’d rather be shamed in front of your husband than wasting his much money for nothing.

“Good ev—what is this?”

Seokjin looks at you, visibly flabbergasted at your unexpected fit. Not even once that he would think you would wear something like this, especially for him—and now your face is already beet red. You are far too shy to do or initiate anything.

“Are you okay? What are you—”

Before he can say other things that will embarrass you even more, you quickly crash your lips to his, kissing it frantically while trying to make it as pleasurable as possible. Seokjin instantly gasps, his bag falling to the floor beside him. His hands rest on your back while you are focusing to make it as good as it can get for him.

You bite his lips for entrance, and as he moans you slips your tongue inside, tasting the sweet beverages he just drank. At one point, he finally responds—kissing you back with tenderness instead that helps manage a pace that won’t leave you breathless.

Few more minutes of tasting his lips against yours, Seokjin finally lets you go, and unexpectedly laughs. Realizing how foolish you must have been for him, you quickly flee inside the room and jump under your blanket. You hiss and close your eyes, cheeks flushed at the remembrance of the kiss and his amused face staring at you—God, can you be more humiliating?

After taking a shower, Seokjin jumps on the bed and you instantly scoot yourself further away, with your back facing him. The silent giggle is still heard and frustrated, you sent him a glare. “Why are you laughing?! There’s nothing funny.”

“I’m laughing not because it's funny, but because you’re extremely cute.” He hums, probably noticing how the blush crept back on your cheek. You scowl in annoyance. “You’re so aggressive today, but how can you’re still so cute? What happened, hmm?”

“No, I just…Ugh, I’m trying here, okay? I know these past two years might have been frustrating to you, I won’t even be surprised if you’ve been sleeping around—”

“What? What are you saying? Who’s sleeping around?” Seokjin asks, puzzled. You bit your lips, looking down in shame.

“I don’t know, maybe because my friends told me they wouldn’t last without sex and I just… I thought you’re like that too. And we haven’t really talked about that, so...”

He laughs, pulling you close until you flush against his chest. He smells like oak and citrus and it entices you at once. “I haven’t been sleeping with anyone for the past two years. My last time was probably with a stranger when I broke up, I think. I don’t really remember.”

“Really? You don’t have to lie to me, I know it’s really—”

“I am serious. And why would I lie? I just… think it’s not right. To be truthful, I also don’t want you to sleep around with someone else when we’re married, I’m just trying to keep this as pleasant as it could be for us.”

Humming against his chest, you feel your heart warming at his considerate act. You really are marrying the right person—regardless of how unconventional it started. You can’t even imagine if it was someone else. Few minutes of silence just feeling his arms around yours until you speak and ruin the whole conversation.

“So does it mean you’re a great masturbator?”

Seokjin laughs until his whole body vibrates. “Well, maybe you could say it like that.”

“So, are you going to tell me what happened last night?” Jane asks during your lunch with Hoseok, Jungkook, and Namjoon with a hint of teasing on her tone. “I am surprised you even came to the office today. I thought you’d call in sick.”

“What the hell—it’s not like that.” You hiss at her, hoping she’d get your subtle message to quit it. Jane groans.

“Come on, Y/N, we are all adults here. Tell us! At least tell me how many rounds. What was it like? Did you use any other tools—like ropes or vibrators?”

Hoseok and Namjoon literally choke on their drinks, while Jungkook smirks in amusement at your flushed cheeks. “Don’t say it. Damn, Jane, it’s not it! What the hell are you saying?!”

“Well, I mean you literally called in sick to buy a lingerie—that I chose, for those taking notes—which literally will get him hot and erected in no time. How can I not be wondering?! What was it like? Tell me, I’m a lonely mother of two, Y/N. I just want to know, hmm?”

“Yes, tell us, Y/N! How’d it go with your lawfully wedded husband?” Jungkook joins in, giggling in mischief. You shot him an unamused look.

“Ah, I remember those days. Fucking till morning with my wife. Well, before the baby arrives.” Namjoon sighs dreamily, and you are visibly repulsed at his sentence. “I agree with Jane, Y/N. I love my child to death, but I’d rather wait for maybe another year or two.”

“It’s not like that!” You hide your face on your palm. “There literally nothing happened. I wore that lingerie, and surprised him when he came home, but we ended up doing nothing but kissing. He laughed, by the way. Thanks for that, Jane.” You glare at her, and she shrugs.

“Only that?” Hoseok asks, uncertain. “You’re already wearing lingerie and nothing happened?”

You vengefully nod. “That’s really all. Then he took a shower, we just talked until both fell asleep. Done.”

Namjoon contemplates, fingers on his chin. “That’s weird. Hmm. You don’t even bother jumping in the shower?”

“You are an idiot.” You sigh, massaging your temple—even if the idea struck you in a way. Should you have jumped into the shower with him? But you did your make up and all... “Even kissing him was already—”

Jungkook quickly cuts with roaring laughter. “Wow, I never know you’re that much of an idiot, Y/N! Ha ha ha I’m hungry, does anyone want to order food now?” As others are focused on skimming the menu, he sends you a look, and you just register that you were about to blabber the reality of your marriage. You grimace and mutter your thanks to him.

Two weeks have passed in a blink, and you are seriously pleased with the way things are. It feels like the boundary has been torn down between you two, and pretty clear that Seokjin’s been making an effort for your relationship as well. Usually, you always feel the things he does is based on mere obligation, but you know it’s no longer the case for him. You can feel how much he cares and adores you—receiving your bear hugs whenever he comes home, holding you close before coming to bed, kissing your forehead whenever it feels right.

Just like today. You are feeling a bit feverish, and when you reply to his message asking how’re you doing, he immediately calls.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asks after the first beep, tone laced with concern. “If you’re not feeling good, you should go home. Do you want me to call a taxi? Or can you wait for an hour, I’ll take you home.”

“I’m fine. This is not really rare. I’ll be fine soon.” You giggle, even inside of you tickles on the wondrous feeling of him caring for your well being. “I’ll go straight home after this.”

“Okay. I’ll get you.” He reminds and you hum in agreement. “Stay put until then, okay?”

I love you. “See you.”

I love you too. “Bye.”

And while driving home with Seokjin, you don’t know why but you feel physically much better than before. It just feels so right with him beside you. Especially when you initiate to hold his hand, he lets go for a second and repositions himself so he could hold your hand better—you seriously think you could fall sick on how jumpy you’ve become because of him.

“Are you sure you’re sick? Or you just need some attention, hmm?” He teases, lightly pinches your cheek. You huff in embarrassment.

“You’re annoying.” You are about to pull back your hand to your lap when he holds it tighter.

“Who says I wanna let go.” Seokjin’s lips curl into a hearty smile. You still maintain your fake scowl. “You’re just so cute, that’s what.”

“Why are you so cheesy nowadays.” You burst in laughter, unable to hold it back. Seokjin beams, and reliably parks the car in your apartment’s basement with one hand. Finally silence, it's only you and him with the soft engine sound when he pulls you to his arms.

“Thank you for loving me. I seriously don’t know what you see in me, but I seriously can’t believe that you really like me and want to go through this.” He exhales softly, his left arms holding you by the waist, his right stroking your hair. “I hope that you know that I’m trying my best here. But I don’t know why, it doesn’t even feel like trying. Everything is so easy with you.”

“That’s really cheesy.” You chuckles, but tighten your arms around him regardless. “I’m also very thankful that you’re giving us a chance. I seriously don’t know what I’d do without you. I keep on making a mess, falling in love when I shouldn’t—”

“Hey, don’t say that. I am really happy we’ve been through this, or I might always chicken out. Even if it could be better if I wasn’t such a jackass, but I’m still grateful.” He coos, pecking your forehead.

Releasing his hug, you are about to mutter something when he cuts with his lips lurching unto yours, cutting whatever sound beside loud moans. You are taken aback, falling a step back before steadying yourself by finding purchase on his shoulder. His palms are on either side of your face, pacing himself.

You spend no time responding, savoring the tender taste of his lips. He tasted just the way you remember, sweet and addicting that leaves you wondering why you haven’t been doing this since the beginning. Catching a breath, he laps at your lips for opening, and as you comply, he roughly pulls you closer by the nape, tangling his tongue like he is a man starved all this time.

“Did you eat a donut?” You giggle when he lets your lips go, trailing pepper kisses on your neck instead. When his lips ghosts to the succulent curve of your v-neck top, you abruptly pull him up to see you in the eye.

“Baby, don’t. Not here. We’re just steps away from the apartment and we’re not getting reprimanded of public indecency.” You remind him. Seokjin scoffs, letting out a deep sigh.

“You shouldn’t wear this top. This is not good for my health.” He frowns as you laugh. “And what are you thinking, I’m not going to have our first time in this car. It was just an intro, so you better be prepared.”

“Ooh, consider me spooked, then.” You smirk in mischief. It is somehow proven by the way Seokjin cannot take his hands off of your waist, ghosting right above the bump of your ass while ascending to your apartment. At all the action you feel the discomfort between your thigh—high chance you are already dripping wet. You have been feeling exceptionally horny this few days, anyway.

“And don’t think I didn’t know the way you’re invading my space and grinding your ass last night when we went to sleep.” He suddenly mentions the event that leaves you all blushing—especially with the other residents on the elevator. You elbow him right away, finger crossed they won’t hear a word he’s saying.

Arriving in your apartment, Seokjin doesn’t hesitate when he pulls you for a deep kiss, his fingers hovering on the hem of your top to detach it from you, flinging it to wherever. Your skin shivers when his fingers are in contact with your bare skin, and to your bra as he grabs the succulent flesh that leaves you a moaning mess.

“Baby, wait. I need to go to the restroom.” You whisper between the kiss, when the incessant throb quite overwhelming your good sense now. Seokjin huffs in pout but let go either way. There’s no way he will say no to whatever request you have for him.

“Don’t be long, sweetheart.”

Running to your toilet with a qualmish feeling on your stomach, you quickly discard your panties with a hypothesis—to have it confirmed by how it has been ruined… with your period blood. You hiss, the frustration building up in your head. You are just about to have sex with your husband after long days of pining, and you just had to have the period on the exact same day. There’s gotta be wrong with your luck.

Finally cleaning yourself, you walk out to find your husband is sitting on the couch, a visible hard-on from his trousers. At the sound of you walking out, he stands but to find your deep frown. “Hey, sweetheart. What’s wrong?”

“Ugh, I hate this so much. I can’t believe we’re about to do this but I got to have my period.” You run to his side, wrapping your arms around him. “I’m sorry for ruining this.”

At your visible dejection, Seokjin can’t bear but to giggle and it leaves you puzzled. How can he be laughing now? “Hey, it’s no matter to me. We can do something else about it, okay? I’ll take care of you. And we can leave that one for raincheck, so don’t be upset.”

Seokjin spends no other second in ravishing your lips while detaching your bra, discarding it in the same manner. His large palms grab the mounds, giving it a little squeeze before pinching your sensitive buds, especially now that you’re in your period. “Ugh, god. You’re so beautiful.” He gruffly mutters before taking your left mounds into his mouth, giving it a hard suck that you have to tug on his fluffy hair on how the pleasure has engulfed you.

“Seokjin...” You moan his name as he shifts to the other mounds, his other hand strays to your clothed core, giving it a feathery touch before he pushes his digits. You bit your lips, holding back a sound.

“Don’t hold back, sweetheart. I want to hear all of you tonight.” He reminds. You nod, feeling your mind has clouded in haze and all you can feel is how great he is with his deed.

Noticing how he has been focusing on your pleasure and satisfaction, you push him back to the couch, your knees on the wooden floor before taking a ride for yourself by opening the fly of his trousers. Seokjin gasps at your cold hands on his erected cock before it springs free in all its glory.

“God, you’re so big. I’m not sure if I can take you end when this fucking period is over.” You are shocked at the size of his girthy dick, the precum is already leaking and you can feel your saliva swimming in your mouth—desperate for a taste.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I told you I’ll take care of you, okay?” He comforts, before his tone drops. “Now suck on my cock like you’re a bitch in heat.”

You give a kittish lap on the slit, tasting the saltiness that is unfamiliar to your tongue, but is easy to discard when encouraged by the moan he is letting out with such favor. Noticing that it might hurt him to be blown without proper preparation, you spit on his dick, before giving him a sensual pump. “Fuck, Y/N, where did you learn to do that—god!” He moans in rapture.

Your mouth closes in, sucking on the tip before taking him in your mouth. You run your tongue along the vein of his beautiful cock, wrapping your lips tight around it, feeling how it throbs in your mouth. “Fuck, don’t stop. Don’t stop.” He hisses, pushing his cock deeper into your mouth. But for the intention of teasing, you’re detaching your lips, going to the ridge of his cock’s length for a lick.

“Damn it, baby, why are you such a tease.” He groans, but is cut with your palm wrapping around his dick, the other slides up to his ball. You can feel a new wave of arousal coming out from your pussy. “Now let me fuck your throat.” He stoutly orders with hooded eyes, forcing your mouth back to take in his red tip and length until it hits the back of your throat—resulting in a gag. Seokjin gathers your hair, helping it out of your way before he raises his hips, feeling the wondrous feeling of your mouth clamming on his dick.

“Don’t flex your throat, sweetheart. Relax, okay? Tell me if you want to stop.” He stares at you, and you nod. You fucking love this, and you’d literally do anything to make him satisfied tonight. Your throat relaxes, and you savor his satisfied groans after feeling the back walls of your throat, with the tears streaking your cheek at his pace and feeling the burn.

“O-oh g-god, F-fuck y-yes.” Seokjin pants, each syllable coming out as he thrust into your throat. “Look at me, sweetheart. I want to see your pretty face while I fucked your mouth hard.” He angles you better until he is satisfied, the lewd image of his cock stuffed into your mouth instantly sends him jerking faster.

A throaty moan slips out of you, and the action successfully sends him to his edge, feeling the vibrations cause his cock to throb in your pretty mouth. “Fuck, this is amazing. You’re so fucking great.” The compliments earns him another groan from you, and it ignites the leading to his awaited orgasm.

Few other thrusts in your throat, you finally feel Seokjin constricting inside of you. He’s about to come, and you’re expecting him to release his load for you to swallow—you were prepared, overall—but unexpectedly he retracts from your mouth, instead jerking off in immaculate pace, and the loss of his dick leaves hollowness inside your throat. “I wanna cum on your tits, baby.” He gruffly whispers.

“Give it to me, daddy.” You persuade, as he pants, still working on his red cock—on the edge of his orgasm. Yet not even once he turns his gaze from you, all red and high with lust hooded in your eyes, the trace of tears on the side of cheek, the swole of your plump lips coated in his pre cum and spit. You look surreal.

“Fuck-fuck! You’re so fucking beautiful.” He hisses, increasing the pace of his pumps before releasing his massive loads on your tits, painting it white. You look down to yourself, feeling his cum trickles down to your nipples and to your thigh. You swipe the liquid with your forefinger, before lapping it clean inside your mouth, internally revolting at the taste.

“Damn, this is crazy. How the fuck you are so good at that.” He sighs in delight, looking at you with lidded eyes and evident aftersex glow. “Let me clean you up.” He reaches for the tissue, cleaning his loads on your breast. Both of you involuntary laughs at the current event.

“Come here.” He crouches down, scoops you into his hold before moving to the bedroom. You abruptly circle your arm around his neck, he closes in for your lips for another make out session on bed. While his tongue is lapping at your own, his fingers move to stimulate you with your hardened nipple until your breath is rigged. His right finger cups your clothed core, giving it a welcomed pressure and humping it until you’re left with moans and satisfied sighs, your finger clutches on his hair, tugging it lightly.

Seokjin’s lips advanced to your ear,giving it a kittish lick. “And you better be prepared, I will eat you out and fuck you all night afer your period is done, sweetheart..”

It’s finally Friday, and you are at your desk for work after lunch. Suddenly, Jane closes in at you. “What are you looking at that seriously?” She inquires, noticing you’ve been staring at the calendar on your desk for longer than anyone should. You turn to her, and shake your head silently.

“No, I just realized that it's soon December.”

“So?”

“It’s soon will be Seokjin’s birthday. He’s turning 34.”

Jane nods in understanding. “Will you get him anything?”

“I don’t know.” You tap your chin, thinking of what to get him. You’ve been scrolling through commerce websites, yet to find even an idea about what to give to him. And it hits you—maybe you don’t really know him after all. “What did you get your husband for his birthday?”

She chuckles. “Last birthday I gave him a responsibility of a lifetime—my pregnancy test came out positive. I wouldn’t say it was a very good birthday present though, as we didn’t really expect a pregnancy after all.”

It dims you right away. Pregnancy? It is too far fetched, right? You haven’t even discussed it with Seokjin—and you don’t want to directly throw him a responsibility for another life being when your romantic relationship has basically just started. Days after days of late nights humping and blowjobs, waiting for your period is over is not basically a very firm foundation for having kids. You don’t even know if you’re ready for it.

And today is the last day of your period. Seokjin has actually asked if you want a dinner together—and you said yes. Based on his promise, today should also be the day you will be making love till dawn. But this dampens your mood a bit, at the thought of having kids frightens you.

Scrolling through instagram, you see that Tasha, your sister-in-law has posted a series of photos from the previous birthday lunch of your father-in-law. The first photo is the five of them smiling together, the second is their three children with the grandparents, and the next one is Seokjin, smiling while he’s caging Taehyun’s little frame inside his arms. You smile longingly at that. Nobody can deny it though—Seokjin is amazing with kids, you know how much he loves them. And there are countless times you pity him for marrying you—as children were never part of your plan before.

But now you love him. And so does he.

And the thoughts have been haunting you that even when you’re seated in front of him in a high class restaurant, Seokjin can sense something is bothering your mind. He holds you by the hand across the table, and how you instinctively flinch confirms his suspicion.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?”

You smile nervously at him, shrugging. “I am fine, but yeah.. Something is just.. bugging my mind, that’s all.”

“What is it?” He asks softly, a bit worried. “Don’t you like this place? Are you cold? You’re not sick, right?”

“It’s not it.” You giggle at his cute attention. “I just... you know, I saw the date and realized that you’re having a birthday soon. I just don’t know what to get you. A bit upset that maybe it feels like I don’t know you that well, that’s all.”

His face lightens at that, the creases of his smile evident. “No, you don’t have to get me anything. I’m just happy with what we have right now.” He gazes at you, pulling your hands to give it a light kiss. “I am just.. very thankful that you’re here.”

“But I want to give you something.” You frown, looking down. “It feels like you’re always taking care of me, and I’m always at the receiving end.”

“Why are—Y/N, you are the most selfless person I know. The way you take care of me just shows how much I owe you with anything I have. I want to make you happy, as you already made me the happiest I can be.” He explains in rush, like he’ll suffocate if you don’t realize how precious you are to him any time soon.

“Thank you.” You gratefully replies, holding back the tears from falling.

The next two hours, you’re already in bed with Seokjin on top of you, both your clothes are far long discarded on the floor. His palm is grabbing your succulent mounds, his right palm on the bed beside your face. His lips are lapping at yours, savoring the wine you consumed from the previous dinner.

“Seokjin, please put your dick inside me.” You moan before biting his lower lips. He smirks haughtily.

“Not so fast. I promised I’d eat you, didn’t I, kitten?” He questions, before moving his kisses to your neck, breast, stomach and to your thigh. You bite your own lips, your breath hitched when feeling the cold air he blows to your throbbing core.

He laps at your cunt, his fingers sensually moving in circles for stimulation, and when his tongue is finally in contact with your clit, you feel the new wave of arousal is dripping out. Seokjin grins, instantly welcoming it with his tongue that leaves you a moaning mess. “Kitten, you’re dripping so much. Do you want to be fucked that badly?”

“Yes, yes, daddy. Don’t hesitate, please fuck me.” You breath out, finally pulling his face closer to your cunt. Seokjin slaps them harshly, eyes turning dark at your disobedience.

“Are you not going to be patient, kitten? Do you want daddy to stop fucking you?”

The thoughts literally scare your whole being that you deters from touching him. “Daddy, please. Fuck me, stuff me with your big cock.”

After that he continues on with his crazy good tongue, moving in and out of you until you screams his name in pleasure. Not only his tongue, his digits enter you in exchange, furthering them inside to scissors you until you are crying of ecstasy. As your orgasm builds up, he circles your clit in wondrous motions with simultaneous licking your cunt which helps you reach your edge. And not even another minute, you cum generously on his tongue.

Few minutes of reaching your breath, Seokjin laughs at your fucked out expression, your orgasm has caught up with you. You are literally glowing with sweat and satisfaction that it literally takes his breath with how blissful you feel, because of him.

“Don’t look at me like that, baby. I still need to ride you, need you to cum inside me.” You remind him right after finding his strangely contented expression staring down at you. “Just... let me take a breather, okay?”

“Are you sure you can ride me? It seems like you lost all your energy.” He giggles, plopping beside you on bed, pulling you close to his chest, that you are leaning on his arm. “I am marrying a fifty years old. How come you already lost your stamina after an orgasm?”

“It’s not it! I’m just a bit tired after work.” You scowl, rolling your eyes at his teases. “You are so annoying.”

He smirks, pecking you in the lips. “But you love me, right?”

“My fault, I know.” You huff. In Seokjin's hearty smile, and you suddenly are reminded of the photo of him Tasha posted this afternoon.

“Seokjin. Can I ask you something?” You ask, fidgeting your finger. Seokjin hums. “You know, I saw Tasha posted a photo of you and Taehyun this morning. And I was just thinking… if you want a child?”

“What?” He looks down at you, a bit of confusion written on his face that it scares you he’ll not take this like you want him to.

“No, it’s just—I just think that you like kids very much and they like you too, I am just thinking if you want a child. I don’t mean it now, b-but if y-you want now—”

“Sweetheart, has this been bothering your mind when we had dinner? About having a child?”

You look down, suddenly not courageous enough to face him, afraid of finding the disappointment or doubt in his eyes. “Yes. No. Maybe? I don’t know.”

Seokjin closes you again now that you are chest by chest, face by face, his arms circling your back. “I want everything with you, Y/N. At the right place, at the right time.”

He continues, fixes your locks and rests a few lost strands behind your ear lovingly. “I know this has been hard, especially for you. Pregnancy, birthing is never easy, and I know it’s not really in your plan, even including me. So I will never force you to anything. I want everything you want, okay? And it’s your body. It’s your choice.”

You nod, burying your face on his shoulder, finding purchase on the musky scent of his. Oh, how much you love this man. “Thank you. I don’t know why you always have the rightest thing to say. I really, really envy and love you for it.”

“You went through for me. Of course I want to give you everything. I love you, Y/N, until the sea sleeps.”

“Until the sea sleeps?” You cocks your head in questions. He nods affirmatively.

“Yes. If life is the sea, I want to go through it with you. Until it ends. Until it sleeps.” He plants kisses lovingly on your forehead, to your nose, and finally, to your lips. But at once you finally push him on his back, internally shouting in joy at his choice of grand large bed.

“How can you say such thoughtful and beautiful words with your dick is pressing on my stomach.“ You hisses in fake chagrin, before continuing.

“I love you too, but for now let me ride you, daddy...” You whisper sensually, grinding at his half-erected cock. Seokjin smirks in amusement, resting both his palm behind his head as he enjoys the lewd sight, your breast jiggling wonderfully, your cold hands palming his dick.

Oh god, how much he loves you...

2 Years Later....

“Honey, can you help grabbing the diapers?” You pleaded from your bedroom, carefully cleaning your five months old baby girl, throwing away the spoiled diapers near your feet. Seokjin quickly arrives with a fresh set of diapers, baby oils, a fresh pair of baby overalls and beige shirt.

“Thank you, honey, you’re the best.” You smile as he pecks your lips slightly. You continue your work in changing Mina’s clothes as the baby lets out a light gurgles, Seokjin sitting across the bed, his lips curling at the beautiful sight.

After finally falling in love with each other two years ago, you and Seokjin decided to go with your own pace and did not rush into having kids. It was the best decision after all, not a hint of doubts when you knew he’s just as invested as you are in this marriage. You decided to savor it all, both you and Seokjin took leave from work and humdrum life to explore the other side of world together.

And eight months together passed, you and him both decided it would be the perfect time for you to start getting off the birth pill. Few months of trying and getting pregnancy, you and Seokjin are granted the beautiful healthy baby girl, whom both you named as Kim Mina.

Holding her then or now, you just know she’s already the best gift of your life that you’d do anything for her happiness and well being.

“So, is Taehyung and Tasha anywhere near our house?” You ask, glancing at the clock. “They are probably the only people I’d worry at this point. All my work friends are already on the way. Yoongi is already in the way, right?”

“Yes he is. But no worry about Taehyung, sweetheart. I have made him promise or else he’ll have to be a clown for Mina’s birthday party.” Seokjin laughs. “All the food is served, everything is in the way it should be. We are going through this.”

“I can’t believe we’re finally having a housewarming party. And a baby too.” You laugh dreamily, picking up Mina to cradle on your chest. “Four years ago us would never believed this.”

“Four years ago Seokjin was a blind fool, I had to say. He almost missed the greatest woman on the planet.” Seokjin warmly back hugs you, kissing your cheek lovingly. You hum in mirth. “Luckily this greatest woman is willing to fight for him. The greatest gift for that lucky bastard, I have to say.”

“Well, she loved him too much, I have to say. It was all worth it.”

With the end of the sentence, a chime of bell is heard—somebody is coming. You quickly walk to the door with Seokjin on your side. The first one to arrive is Hoseok and Jungkook, the only single bachelor of the party. “Hi, Y/N, Seokjin! Congratulations, the house is incredible.” Both of them give you a sided hug, and Jungkook shoves two bottles of wine on your hold.

“Drink up!” Jungkook giggles, kissing your baby’s cheek as he taps on Seokjin’s shoulder as a greeting, walking into your house to your tables of served dishes.

In a spare of minutes, few of yours and Seokjin friends are walking in—Jane and her family, Namjoon and his wife and kid, and Yoongi with his girlfriend. You welcome them all with a wide smile, thankful for their presence.

Your parents and Seokjin’s surprisingly arrive right after each other, simultaneously gushing at their grandchild. “Mina! My very cute grandchild!” Your mother squeals in delight after giving you and Seokjin a greeting hug. Seokjin’s mother immediately scoops Mina out of your grasp, moving inside the house to play with her.

Walking around talking with your friends, another bell chime is heard from the door. You and Seokjin walk to open it, finding Jimin on the door with Yoonji, his wife of three months. Their face instantly lightens up at you, and you move to hug the blissful new couple.

About Jimin, he finally moved back from Sydney to Seoul for good one and a half years ago. He was taking over a few branches of his father’s business, and you started rekindling the friendship with him. And you don’t want to brag, but you are the matchmaker for Jimin and Yoonji. She was the new assistant manager at your unit, and one dinner, you invited Jimin for dinner with your work friend’s and they instantly hit the bat right away. It doesn’t even take a year for Jimin to get on one knee and propose to her.

“Hi, Seokjin.” Jimin grins in courtesy. Seokjin answers with a laugh, pulling the younger guy into a side hug. You point Yoonji her way to Hoseok and Jungkook. “Congrats on the new house, man. This place is great.” Jimin sincerely compliments, handing him a large box of housewarming gifts which Seokjin gladly receives with loud squeaky laughs of thank you.

It’s also been a year since Jimin had the talk with Seokjin, in which they bonded over alcohol and food. Jimin also apologized to what he did a few years back, and Seokjin instantly accepted it—no hard feelings, knowing that it was for the best as he finally found you, the best thing that happened to him. After that, Jimin basically joins the gang with Seokjin and Yoongi, and also hangs out with your friends slash his wife’s friend. It was all good.

After the housewarming party time finally arrives, the helper hands the drinks in tray for a toast. You lean onto Seokjin’s chest, as he begins the welcoming toast.

“Thank you everyone for coming. This hasn’t been a very easy ride with me and Y/N, but we are very thankful to where we are right now. A beautiful baby, a great house, a great loan—” Everyone chuckles at his joke. “ —but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I wanna say thank you to my wife, who has stood by me through thick and thin. I’d never be able to do it without you.”

Suddenly, the shouts to kiss are visible—high chance initiated by Jeon Jungkook—and you giggle before pressing a tender kiss to his lips. The aws are heard, and Seokjin looks back to the audience. “Thank you to my family and friends. Your great support is the reason we are here right now. I am very grateful.”

“Let’s toast, for this wonderful day. May we always be healthy and happy. Cheers!” Seokjin smiles and clinks his glass of champagne to yours. The sound of glass clinking against each other is heard simultaneously, and you sips on the beverage. Seokjin gazes down on you, a toxicated smile on his lips.

“What?” You ask, falling a bit shy.

“I am so happy. You make me very happy, and I thank you for that.” He closes, resting his forehead on yours. “I love you, sweetheart. Until the sea sleeps.”

You hum in serenity, savoring his wondrous scent. “I love you too, baby. Until the sea sleeps.”

Suddenly, the doors are busted open, Taehyung rushed eyes staring confusedly at the large group of people settling on their places, Taehyun on his grasp. “Am I late? I don’t have to be a clown, right?!”

Just an disinterested glace before the crowd disperse around the home in group. Seokjin cunningly smirks at him, walking closer and taps his shoulder in a fake comforting manner.

“Sorry, brother. Looking forward to you coming as a clown in Mina’s birthday party, okay?”

“Fuck.” He curses under his breath, but is not missed by your approaching mother-in-law. She immediately screeches loudly in anger, completely enraged with both hands on hips.

“Kim Taehyung! Your son is there, and you curse?! How dare you set out a bad example for your son?!”

He grimace, glaring at you and your husband who are laughing heartily at his clear misery.

“Lord, have your mercy.”

Thank you for reading! it’s such a great ride writing this. Credits to one quora answer I read that inspires this whole fluffy prompt. And all the smut writers that inspired me on writing such unholy scenes lol

Do slide into my ask box and let me know what you think! 🤩💜💌 And check out my other fics ➡ (click here)!

#bts #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #bts jin #bts fanfic #bts x reader #seokjin smut #seokjin fluff #bts seokjin smut #taehyung #jungkook #ot7 #ot7 smut #seokjin x reader #taecalikook #bts marriage au #bts strangers to lovers

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journey-of-the-hob · 3 years

Text

Chapter II: Stranger in a Strange Land

I sat on the ground for a few minutes trying to work out a few thoughts on what to do. Eventually I came to the realization that I was hungry. I looked around and saw a diner called ‘Phillies’ across the street. In my time some kind of banking building occupied the plot of land, but I guess it was as good a place as any other to collect my thoughts. I walked in and took a seat at the bar. It was the hour in between breakfast and lunch, and aside from the waitress I was the only one there.

“Mornin’ hon. What can I get you?” I heard the waitress ask. I looked up at her. She had a round, friendly face with short raven hair. She was in her 30s by my guess.

“You guys still serving breakfast?” I sheepishly asked, loosening my necktie.

“All day. Anything in particular you want darlin'?” she replied. I glanced at the nametag pinned to her uniform. It read Billie.

“Yeah, scrambled eggs, sausage, hash browns , and some coffee please” I answered as I pinched the bridge of my nose.

My order was up, and I began to eat. The food tasted good. Really good in fact, of course it would. Back in the 1960s the turn to overly processed food hadn’t happened yet. About that time a man sat down next to me. He was old, maybe in his late 60s. He had a shock of silver hair with a thin mustache. The whites of his eyes were yellowing, and he had a smirk on his face like he knew something that everyone else didn’t. I don’t think he would’ve been noteworthy if not for the fact that he came out of nowhere. The doorbell hadn’t rung, and I hadn’t heard the door to the bathroom open either. Billie, the attentive waitress, hadn't acknowledged his presence either. Something was wrong about this guy.

“Outta Time?” He asked. His voice was raspy and gruff.

“Yeah it’s quarter past eleven” I responded looking at the new, unfamiliar Timex on my wrist.

“No...I wasn’t asking a question about time. I was making an observation about it. You’re out of time, aren’t you, Ian?” he chuckled a bit. I remembered the voice and eerie laugh. It was the one from the radio.

“You know what’s going on don’t you? Why am I here? How did you do this to me?” I asked in a hushed tone through gritted teeth. “How do I get home? Back to 2021?”

“The answer to your second question, is the answer to your first. Good luck figuring it out boy.” The man rasped. “It’s getting pretty late. Get a clue, kid. Why don’t you go to work, assuming you have a job.”

I looked over my shoulder, but when I turned back the old man had vanished. I don’t know how he managed to vanish into thin air or who he was, but I think I was more focused on how he seemed to know my situation. He knew how to get me back to my time, but he wasn’t telling. He was playing some kind of cosmic riddle game with me, and I think he just gave me a hint. I pulled out my wallet, and fished out the business card of the detective agency that I found earlier. Perhaps this is where I worked, or the Ian O’Mara of 1964 worked anyway, and it might have had some answers. I got the ticket for my breakfast which came out to $1.10. Had to love 1960s prices; I gave Billie a $5 and she was ecstatic. I tried to figure out why, until I realized that with inflation I just tipped her the equivalent of $40.

I got into my car and drove to the address on the card, and as I made my way I began to ponder my circumstances. Was I really here as myself, or was there another Ian O’Mara somewhere in the past whose life I had been inserted into? In my reflection I still looked like me, and since these were the day before IDs had pictures on them I had no point of reference on whether or not he looked different. I guess I would have to find someone who knew him and/or me to see. After a few minutes of driving through downtown I saw a neon sign protruding from the side of a highrise building that spelled out: Third Eye Detective Agency, topped with an Eye of Providence. I parked the car and walked in. After finding a directory on the wall, I saw that the office was located on the third floor. I walked to the elevator and there was a man in a maroon uniform standing by the controls.

“Good morning Mr. O’Mara.” He offered with a cheerful tone of voice. “Bit of a late start, and if you don’t mind my saying so, you’re looking a little out of sorts today.”

“Oh you have no idea.” I responded with a nervous chuckle; in all of my confusion and stress it was an uncontrollable reaction.

“Well don’t you worry sir. We’ll get you to your office, and a couple cups of coffee will set you straight.” He retorted. The elevator shuffled to a stop and the operator slid the gate open. “Your floor sir.”

I walked down the hallway until I saw a door with a frosted glass window with the letterhead of the company printed on. I opened the door and saw a relatively large sitting room with a wall dividing the back office. In the corner there was a secretary desk. Behind it was a woman with her feet on the desk and her face covered by a copy of Harper’s Bazaar. As I shut the door she put the magazine down and stood up. She had delicate features, large piercing blue eyes, with long blonde hair. She looked to be in her mid 20s. Before I could think of something to say, she put her hands on her hips, and gave me a playfully disapproving stare.

“And what sort of time do you call this?” She asked before walking towards me. She was wearing a white blouse with the sleeves rolled up, black skirt, and a pair of hose with a slight diamond pattern. “Well I can tell by that slack-jawed stare that my outfit was a success.” she giggled and pushed my mouth shut, causing me to snap back to my train of thought.

“I..uh..sorry I’m late…” I gazed towards her desk and saw the name placard: Abigail Blackthorne. “A-Abigail...sorry I’m late.” I stammered. She looked at me closely for a second before speaking again.

“It’s Abby...You never call me Abigail. Something’s not right with you Ian. Are you okay?” Her look turned from suspicion to concern.

“Umm...no...no, not really.” I replied as I rubbed the back of my head. Though it wasn’t as painful as when I fell down the stairs it still throbbed a bit.

“What happened to you? We’ve been waiting on you all morning. You had me worried. Cole said that you probably were at the movies again, but I made him go look for you.” Abby explained. She mentioned someone named Cole. Maybe he was someone else I could get some information from.

“I-uh...Well I was at the movies, but I fell down the stairs, and..” Abby cut me off before I could finish.

“Oh my God, Ian! Are you okay?! Do you need to go to the hospital?” She asked, immediately trying to examine my head for a wound.

“No. Thankfully I didn’t crack anything, at least I don’t think I did.” I said stepping back and sitting in one of the chairs in the office. “I seem to be having trouble remembering a few things though.”

“Really? Like amnesia? That’s crazy! I think I saw that on an episode of General Hospital, or maybe it was The Doctors.” She trailed off, seemingly forgetting about the conversation at hand.

“Abby, how close would you say that we are?” I asked, returning her attention.

“Friendly I suppose. Why do you ask?” She turned her gaze back to me. Her eyes caused me to lose my train of thought for just a moment.

“Well you might be able to help me fill in the gaps in my memory. You know? Help me get myself back together.”

“Well that should be easy. I am your secretary after all, so I know just about everything about your day to day routine.” Abby hopped up and went back to her desk, pulling out a date book.

I was finally about to get some answers, even if just some mundane ones. I heard the doorknob turn, and the door to the office opened. A man in a blue three-piece suit walked in the front door, and put a hat on the coat rack.

“There you are! Where’ve you been? I’ve been looking for you all morning.” his voice had a bit of twang in it, but he wasn’t from Texas. It sounded like the sort of French lilt that you hear in Louisiana. “You had poor Abby worried sick.”

“Sorry about that...Cole.” I gambled on his name.

“Well sorry don’t pay the bills, and you best remember that son. Now straighten that tie, we’ve got a client coming soon, and If I’m right there could be a lot of money in for us.” he said, almost as if to his reflection as he preened in the mirror by the door.

“Well I was about to read the itinerary for Ian, since he just got in. If that's alright with you Cole.” Abby pointedly interjected.

“Abby, sugar, what did I say the other day about being too familiar?” he replied as he turned back around. He leered at Abby, and with his sharp features it reminded me of the way a hawk looks at its prey.

“Very well, MISTER Gilliam.” Abby retorted, her eyes rolling all the while.

“That’s better, cher. Get on with it.” He was still fidgeting with his clothes, straightening his tie, adjusting the chain on his pocket watch. So far this Cole guy seemed insufferable.

“Okay Ian, Mr. Ponsonby stopped by this morning to deliver the order you placed last week, I put it on your desk. You've got some invoices to sign for the Ramierez and Donahue cases. You and Mr. Gilliam have a meeting with a client in about 15 minutes, I’ll let him prep you for that one. As for your messages, you have one from a moving company, that all of your stuff has been moved into your new apartment, and you need to meet with your new landlord to pick up the keys this afternoon at 5:30.” Abby explained closing the date book.

“Thanks. Can you call them back and get the address for the apartment building?” I asked.

“Well now that doesn’t make a lick of sense. Why would you need the address of your own apartment?” Cole asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“I had a bit of a fall walking down some stairs this morning. My memory’s a bit...off.” I replied.

“Well you came into the office so I’ll assume it’s not too severe. Have a nip of scotch and sort yourself out. We’ve got a business to run.” He replied beckoning me into the back office.

The back office had two desks, mine being the one on the left, a large set of bookcases and filing cabinets, as well as a large window that showed the whole skyline of Fort Worth. I couldn’t believe how much it had changed. I realized that I had to get some facts straight about the life I found myself inhabiting. From the way that Abby and Cole casually accepted my appearance I could tell that if there was an Ian O’Mara in the 60s I looked like him at least. I went over to the desk with my name on it and started poking through drawers. Mostly I found the type of things that you’d expect to find in a detective’s desk: files, stationary, handcuffs, but nothing of any importance to my situation. On the desk there was a framed photograph of what looked like me and Cole shaking hands by the front door of the office. There was writing on the photograph that read: The Boys start an Agency, 1959. There was another that showed me, Cole, and Abby sharing drinks in the office next to a Christmas tree, and this one read: Merry Christmas, 1963.

The more I saw my face in the photos I came to the conclusion that I wasn’t inhabiting someone else’s life, but rather I had a bespoke one for me here in 1964, but that didn’t make any more sense than any other theory. If this life was made for me, who made it? Why? If it was real, was it even time travel? Maybe it was some kind of simulation, maybe it was some kind of parallel universe. I was hoping that coming to this office would give me answers, but instead it only offered more questions. I turned my gaze down towards the package on my desk. I untied the twine and ripped off the paper. Inside was a polished wooden box with a letter on top. I opened it and started to read.

‘Dear Mr. O’Mara,

Here is the handgun that you ordered from my shop. As per the order, it is a Smith & Wesson Model 29 .44 with a six inch barrel. I made the additional alterations that you asked for. I upgraded the action, and engraved the frame, barrel, and cylinder. I hope that the order is to your liking, and if you need anything else please let us know. As always, I appreciate your repeat business.

-Jack Ponsonby, Owner and Proprietor, Ponsonby’s Fine Sporting Goods and Gunsmith.’

I opened the case and there was the large frame revolver exactly as described in the letter, it had a high polish blued finish, with swirling engraving patterns, and a carved grip made of sandalwood. As I inspected it I noticed that on the backstrap the words ‘Gáe Bolga’ engraved there. It was a beautiful gun, but in my handling of it I heard Cole speak up.

“Good lord, Ian. What are you gonna do with that thing? Hunt elephants?” He asked. Lighting a cigarette.

“I guess I was trying to protect myself from something.” I responded, checking the sights. I rummaged through the desk and found a shoulder holster in one of the drawers. It was a tight fit for the gun but it would work. “I haven’t shot a gun since I was a kid.” I had memories of going hunting with my dad, but when I reached high school age it just fell by the wayside.

“What are you talking about? We went to the range last week.” Cole replied, casting a disapproving stare in my direction.

“I mean. That it always makes me feel like a kid.” I gave a nervous smile. Cole held out the box Luckies and offered me a cigarette. “No thanks, I don’t smoke.”

“Since when?” he shot back, narrowing his gaze further. “You’ve been smoking like a chimney for at least the five years I’ve known you.”

I was drawing too much attention to myself. I had to change the subject. Before I had the chance Abby opened the door and walked in with an older gentleman.

“Mr. Carnes, this is Ian O’Mara and Cole Gilliam, the detectives that will be handling your case.” She made the introductions and sat down next to my desk with a steno pad and a pencil. This man, Carnes. He looked very familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on why.

“Mr. Carnes we spoke on the phone. You said that you had an urgent matter that you needed to discuss with me and my associate.” Cole stated. He leaned forward in his chair, and locked his fingers together. I could tell by his body language that Cole fancied himself as some kind of dandy detective with the likes of C. Auguste Dupin or Hercule Poirot.

“It’s my daughter, gentlemen. She's been missing for three months and police have found nothing. They say that they have their top men on it, but I know that they’ve already filed it away somewhere.” the old man explained. Mr. Carnes was a very rotund man, with a receding hairline, and bushy mustache. He was trying to keep himself composed, but I could see his face beginning to redden behind his spectacles.

“Mr. Carnes, can you give us some more information about your daughter? Her name, age, something like that?” I asked, trying to get more information.

“Carolina. She’s my only child. She had just turned 18 a few months ago, and she’s gone. Vanished to God only knows where. Carnes used a pocket square to wipe some sweat from his forehead.

“Of course! You’re Ulysses Carnes, the freight magnate. I knew I recognized you.” I couldn’t help but interject. I remembered his name, or more accurately the case of his daughter’s disappearance. It was a notable cold case in the state of Texas that I had heard about once in a true crime documentary. “The Carolina Carnes cold case. I remember when that happened!” The eyes of everyone in the room were on me in bewildered stares. “I-uh mean I remember reading about that case in the paper.”

“Mr. O’Mara, I resent the insinuation that the status of my daughter’s disappearance is a foregone conclusion. Wherever she is, I know that she is still alive...a father always knows. Carnes stated in full belief that he was correct.

“Too right, Mr. Carnes. I’m sure wherever your Carolia is, she is safe, and just needs to be brought home. Maybe she ran off with a boy or some other foolishness.” Cole said, trying to disarm Mr. Carnes.

“I reject your implications as well, Mr. Gilliam. My daughter is a good Christian girl, she wouldn’t run off with a boy like some kind of trollop.” He had turned his fiery gaze away from me and towards Cole. “Gentlemen, I believe that I made a mistake trying to bring my business here.”

“Not true, sir! Our agency has a ninety-seven-percent closure rate for the cases that we’ve undertaken. If you just give us a chance I’m certain that we can find your daughter.” Cole kept trying to salvage Mr. Carnes’ trust.

“One week. You have one week to find my daughter. If you do not produce results. I will take my business to another agency, do I make myself clear Mr. Gilliam?” Carnes flatly stated as he stood. He placed a picture of his daughter on my desk and turned to leave.

“Mr. Carnes, sir. Please, the deductive process could take longer than…” Cole was cut off by a stare from Mr. Carnes. It was an intense kind of stare. The kind that could stop a stampeding herd dead in its tracks. Abby showed Mr. Carnes to the door, and closed it behind them. “What in the blue fuck was that?! Where the Hell do you get off thinking you can act like that towards a client?! I had the pump primed, Ian! He was gonna put us on retainer! It would’ve kept the lights on for the rest of the year!” Cole screamed, as he walked back into the main office.

“I figured it out this is why I’m here...” I was musing out loud, but I think I had figured it out.

“No you’re here to make me regret the day I ever signed a business contract with you!” Cole angrily retorted.

“No...that’s it! If I find her, or at least find out where she is I can go home!” I said. That must be the trick. I was being tested by some cosmic power, and if I could solve this case they would let me go home. That must have been what the man in the diner meant when he said ‘get a clue’.

“You wanna go home? Abby! I want you to drive him to his apartment.” Cole was angry, but I was tuning him out. “Now you hear this, Ian. I don’t know what that fall fucked up in your head, but you come back with it screwed on straight, or you stay away you understand?”

Abby grabbed her coat, and we left the office. I told her that I was fine to drive, but out of concern Abby insisted, so I let her. We got in the Impala, and she began to drive. My head was swirling. I might still not have known how I got here, or where here even was, but I knew how to get back. I had a gut feeling that this case was connected, and if I could solve it, whoever was keeping me here would let me go.

“Ian, why did you act like that back there? You normally seem that you have it all put together, but that was really out of character.” Abby asked.

“Because I know this case. Carolina Carnes disappeared in 1964, and the cops were never able to find any suspects or evidence of where she went, so they declared it a cold case. Ulysses Carnes never stopped trying to find her. His freight business went bankrupt, and he slipped into obscurity sometime around 1976.” I explained. I’ll admit I hadn’t done a deep dive into the case, but I remembered everything from the show I watched about it.

“See, but that’s the problem. You just did it again, like at the meeting.” She replied.

“Did what, Abby? I don’t get it?” I couldn’t tell what she was getting at.

“Talking about all of this in the past tense. How do you know that Carnes will go broke in 1976? How do you know that no one will find her? Most important Ian, how do you know so many details about this case? I know that Cole didn’t say anything about it before today.” The way she was looking at me...I could see that was genuine concern there.

“I’m…” I wanted to say it. I wanted to tell her that I fell out of my own time and landed in 1964, but how could she understand? I was here at the epicenter of it, and I didn’t even understand it. “I’m...not sure. I just feel like as soon as I heard Carnes tell me I could see what was going to happen.”

“So what, you're psychic or something? You fell down some stairs, and now you’re clairvoyant?” She giggled. I could tell that she was trying to break up the tension.

“No. It’s just a feeling. Besides, I am going to find her, or at least someone who knows where she is, and I’m going to save her. I have to.” I replied.

“But why does it have to be you? Why are you treating this case like it’s the end of the world?” Abby sounded concerned again

“Maybe it is. Maybe my future depends on it.” That cryptic statement was as close to the truth as I could get. “She’s missing, and I’ve got a week. I guess you could say that we’re both running out of time.”

#short story #sfw

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whimsicallyreading · 4 years

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Dark Roast No Sugar

Chapter Three

Aelin would never admit it out loud, but a day off was just what she needed. She spent the morning napping, snacking, and reading. Her stomach settled, and when she took off her shoes, her feet didn't look like they belonged to a bloated cadaver.

Spending that time with Aedion was also refreshing. He kept the conversations light. Telling her about the antics between hostesses at The Pits, a run-in between Ren and the police. A story about the drug dealer they'd roughed up and how he'd pissed his pant when he saw Aedion and the stray puppy Kyllian had snuck into The Den.

When they got hungry, Aedion offered to make them a late lunch. Her mouth watered at the prospect of his famous grilled cheese with two kinds of cheeses and ketchup.

Lysandra came up to join them for lunch and her nose wrinkled at the sight of them dragging the cheesy goodness through globs of red sauce. "By the dark god, you two. That's disgusting."

Aedion grins, a dot of ketchup on his chin, "You haven't even tried it yet. This meal is a riot with the guys and saved my ass with foster siblings." He wiped his face on his sleeve and leaned back in his chair. "You don't shit on the kid who can actually make edible food."

Aelin laughs and dusts her hands off like a lady. "Actually, you don't shit on the kid who looks like he started doping at eleven. But yeah, I'm sure it was your budget lunches that saved you."

"Shut up, you love it when I cook," Aedion collected their plates.

Lysandra pulls up the chair next to Aelin's at their tiny, rickety table. She set down her container of salad, looking classier with her more mature pallet. Aelin swiped a cucumber from the top and chewed into the seasoned veggie. "Your food is nostalgic. What can I say?"

Aedion's playful demeanor seemed to deflate suddenly, a furrow creasing his brow. "I suppose why I have you two together, we should talk some business."

"Uh oh, that doesn't sound good." Lysandra tensed up, shooting a worried look at Aelin.

"Is it the bidding for this month? I told you I could get at least an extra hundred dollars to you by the end of the month. If you need more, I could-"

Aedion cut off Aelin's rambling with a raised hand. "It's not the bidding. Elias pulled enough to cover our bets for the month." Relief flooded through her, and she breathed out a sigh of relief.

The underground fighting game in Orynth was wildly exclusive. To get a spot during prime hours when tickets were hot and the betting pool was hotter, the local gangs had to participate in an auction. It was pricey, but the cuts you got from winning a fight made up for it big time.

Unfortunately, the Bane was not a wealthy group of men. A lot of them had families or relatives they were supporting. They usually scavenged up enough money to get two or three guys into the fights, and those funds were just enough to pull them through to the next month.

Like Aelin, those families did what they could to fund money towards the bidding. Initially, she was going to volunteer as a fighter, but she found out about the baby, and they all agreed it was too risky for her to get in the ring. As soon as she was cleared, she still intended to participate in the fights to Aedion's chagrin.

Between the extra patrols of her street and snuffing the rumors of her existence in the city, it took a chunk of the Bane's recourses and time. Aedion assured her that the guys understood her circumstances, but she contributed as much as she could monetarily until she could contribute physically as well. "What's going on then?"

"Rolf took a beating in the ring last night. He's going to be out of commission for a while, but we didn't lose any money. He managed to bust the guy's head at the last moment and pulled through." He paused.

Aelin was confused, though. It wasn't uncommon for one of the guys to get roughed up a bit, so long as they didn't lose, there wasn't an issue. "That's too bad about Rolf, but I don't see the problem?" she pushed him to continue.

"He swears the guy was tripping on Synth," Aedion breathes out, pained.

Oh.

"Shit," Lysandra swears and stands up. "Is he sure it was Synth?"

"It's kinda hard to rutting mistake, Lysandra," Aedion snapped. He was right, though. The Pits had rules against cheating, but they were followed loosely. If they couldn't see a knife being pulled, the fight wouldn't be called. Some of the Bane even doped before a match just so they wouldn't get caught at a disadvantage.

Synth had a lot of physical effects. Adrenalin coursed through the user at such high rates it was practically superhuman. It gave them crazy speed, strength, and heightened focus. On the flip side, it also caused fever, bulged veins, twitching, bloodshot eyes, and uncontrollable rage as you came down. It would be hard to mistake it for any other street drug. Aelin had taken Synth once before, and it wasn't an easily forgettable experience.

The detail they were glossing over was that only one person was currently capable of leaking a drug like Synth on the streets.

Arobynn Hammel

"So," Aelin finally said, breaking up the heated glares they were sharing. "He's making his presence in Orynth known."

Quiet.

"We can't know it for sure," Aedion looked at her with a sickening amount of pity. Aelin didn't want sympathy or comforting falsities. She wanted the truth.

"Bullshit," Aelin declared, making Aedion wince at the sudden sharpness. "We've had sightings of Tern and Mulligan already. We knew he was sending eyes out. They must have seen us."

Lysandra sunk back into her chair and rested her head in her hands. "I thought we made it?" her voice sounded extraordinarily young, feeble. Not at all like the vivacious woman they were used to seeing.

"Lys," it was Aelin's turn to rest a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder.

Her eyes were glassy and hollow when she looked up. "I really had myself believing we made it."

Aelin's heart broke for her.

Arobynn was a sick son of a bitch. She, Lysandra, and Sam had all come into his care at different times and served various functions within the Manor. One thing was the same though, they were all children.

They were all coerced into doing grotesque things for Arobynn's sake. Things that they should, in all honesty, spend years in therapy to recover from. Yet, some horrors were too big for even Aelin to pretend to understand.

Horrors that Lysandra was forced to live with every day.

Arobynn's unofficial mistress.

Aedion's fist slamming against the table startled them both and snapped Aelin from her thoughts. Lysandra flinched and leaned closer to Aelin. "It doesn't matter."

He pointed his finger at them and then stabbed it into the table. "It. Does. Not. Matter. Where that piece of shit is. Rifthold? Wendelyn? He can be an hour away or watering the rutting flowers next door, but he will never have either of you ever again." The golden core in Aedion's eyes was molten.

The excitement was too much for Lysandra, and the dam behind her eyes broke. Deep, heavy sobs ripped from her chest, and her body wilted forward like a wind-whipped flower.

They moved at the same time, but Aedion was faster. He pulled Lysandra from her seat and gathered her against his chest, shushing her and whispering sweet nothings into her hair.

The bells rang downstairs.

Aedion looked up helplessly, but Aelin raised a hand and mouthed, "It's fine."

None of them wanted Lysandra to be alone right now.

Aelin slipped her shoes back on and hopped down the stairs quickly. Hopefully, they wouldn't be too pissed no one was behind the counter when they walked in, she mused to herself. It only took her half-a-minute to get downstairs, but it was amazing the things people got outraged over.

Mala forgive that the coffee gets in their hand a second later than usual.

"Do my eyes deceive me, or was Aelin Galathynius taking a break?" Dorian Havilliard's greeted her with a bright smile and upraised hands. No trace of agitation at all.

Chaol Westfall stood behind him and meekly tilted his chin. "Hello, Aelin."

"Hello, Chaol." She greets him with a smile and walks into Dorian's outstretched arms. Aelin wasn't a hugger, but Dorian's hugs had a magic to them.

"Where did you go?" Dorian asked without breaking his grasp. "I never thought I'd see the day you weren't slaving away behind the counter grinding beans."

"We weren't super busy today, and I wasn't feeling the best," Aelin admitted.

Dorian pulled away slightly to look down at her in concern. His dark, thick-framed blue light glasses slipping down his nose.

"It's just the baby," she assures him. "Not the flu or anything. You don't have the right parts to catch what I've got."

Chaol snickered, but Dorian's concern only worsened. "In all seriousness, you aren't working yourself too hard?"

Aelin rolled her eyes. If one more person asked her that-

"I'm fine, Dor. It was just some morning sickness and a stressful customer that came through. No big deal."

His shoulders relax, and he releases her from his arms. "I believe you. Just-" he fumbles for the words to say, "If you have troublesome people coming in here and bothering you, let me know? Chaol can come over and hang out for the day. He has a friend, Nesryn. If it gets bad, I am more than willing to hire her-"

Aelin smiled at him and waved at him. "No need for bodyguards. People are rude. It happens. Now, what can I get for the both of you?"

Dorian was the son of the esteemed son of Dorian Sr. The owner of Adarlan Vaults, the most extensive banking chain across Erilea. It was a total accident that they stumbled into each other when Aelin went in looking for a loan to start The Stag with.

At first, he was a bit of a flirt with her. When Aelin made it clear that she wasn't interested in his advances, Dorian backed off right away and fell into the role of the supportive friend. He and Chaol had been the first patrons of the shop when the doors opened.

Chaol was technically his hired protection, but he and Dorain were life long friends bound by something more powerful than money. She never saw the two of them apart. While he appeared to be a quiet sort, he had a sharp mind and fierce loyalty that Aelin admired.

"Two iced girl scout americano's," Dorian pulled out his wallet and handed her a twenty. "Large, please."

Aelin accepted the cash and started filling cups as the two took their standard seats. She just got the espresso machine heated when a set of hands pushed her's aside and began flipping the switches for her.

"Aedion," she groaned as his hip bumped her to the side, and he took over her tasks. "Seriously?"

"You are supposed to be taking the day off," he looks at her pointedly. "Go sit with your friends. I've got this."

"Do you have this?" Aelin set a hand on her hip. "You haven't used these machines before."

Aedion scoffed, "It cannot be that complicated. Now go. Before Lysandra comes back down and wipes the floor with both of our asses." He pulls out two large mugs and grabs out a bottle of coconut flavoring. "Baby A is shielding you for now, but that woman has the memory of a rutting elephant. Don't think you can hide behind my niece or nephew forever." He's more talking to himself by the end as he starts over pouring syrups into cups. Did he even know what he was making? Aelin winced.

She might have to return the twenty to Dorian.

Aelin walks away reluctantly, "Mind if I sit here for a minute, boys?"

Chaol stands up and pulls a chair out for her, "Not at all."

He holds out a hand to help her sit, but she waves it away. She wasn't that pregnant yet.

Dorian has a hardbound book sitting in front of him, the face of his expensive watch catching the light as he turns the page. "I haven't seen you by the bank this week," he says without looking up from the page.

"We've been enjoying the peace," Chaol sits back in his own seat and flashes her a grin. "That's a joke, of course. It's been horribly boring."

"It's been a busy week. I haven't had a chance to drop my deposit off yet." Aelin typically made an excuse to visit the bank at least once a week. Dorian would kindly excuse whatever teller was working to take a break and promptly close the register so they could sit in the break room and talk over cookies and drip coffee.

She was planning on going yesterday, but her feathers were too ruffled after the incident.

"I suppose I can live without that excuse since I've taken it upon myself to visit you at work." He pulls a plastic bag filled with assorted chocolates and places it on the table between them. "If you need to drop off a deposit, I can take it back with me?"

Aelin's hand darts to the bag of sweets and pulls out a dark, salty square. "Have I mentioned you are the most attractive man I've ever met?"

They hear a loud scoff from the kitchen.

"You've mentioned it a few times." He glances up from his book long enough to wink at her. "What about that deposit?"

"I don't think I will have a big enough deposit to warrant the trip this week," the excuse isn't well-formed, and she hears it when the lie falls from her lips.

"You said you had a busy week?" Dorian frowns.

I did, but I'm putting aside extra money to fund my cousin's gang because my former foster father has a hit out on me.

"The tips have been bad" not a total lie. "Maybe it will pick up again over the weekend," Aelin shrugs nonchalantly.

Aedion walks over with two cups of coffee and a mug of tea. He lets Dorian's drink slosh over the side as he sets it down. Dorian lifts his book away from the mess and glares.

She wasn't sure what went down between Dorian and Aedion that made them hate each other. Chaol and Aedion had no qualms. They were even drinking buddies on the weekend, but Aedion had a bone to pick with Dorian long before she'd arrived back in Orynth.

Aelin half-heartedly scolded Aedion as she accepted her drink. Taking a deep drink from the mug, she was surprised to find that it was made exactly as she liked.

Chaol sipped his coffee, and Aelin watched as he barely held back a grimace. Dorian reached for his own cup, but Chaol discretely pulled it away before he could drink. Aelin caught the motion, but thankfully Aedion was already back in the kitchen and hadn't noticed.

"I will remake those for you before you leave," Aelin assured them.

"It's alright. As much as I love coffee, I really came by to spill tea," Dorian took his glasses off and leaned back in his chair.

"Gossip," Chaol translated. "He means gossip."

Dorian rolls his eyes, "That's what tea means, Chaol." Leaning forward with his elbows on the table, "A company called Wendlyn Ops. bought out The Pits."

"What?" Aelin shouts a little too loudly. Dorian shushes her, and Aedion peers out from the kitchen with worried eyes. She waves him away and whispers in a quieter tone. "What do you mean The Pits have been bought out? What for?"

"I didn't realize you would care this much about the seediest bar in town," Dorian laughed. "It's not like you can drink."

"You aren't drinking, right?" Chaol scowls.

Aelin reins back her emotions. She was definitely losing her tack being off the job for several months, but the secret basement underneath The Pits was where the fights were usually held. Iona Jayne would never sell the property when it brought in so much money.

He either owed someone a rutting ton of money, he was being blackmailed, or the most likely option.

Iona Jayne was dead.

Aelin flipped Chaol off, "Of course I'm not drinking. No promises on that in about five months... Just, who would want The Pits? Are they repurposing it?" She can already feel a headache forming behind her eyes.

"That's the interesting part," Chaol murmured. "The title for The Pits was transferred to a new owner just a few days before it was sold for triple its market value."

Dorian's grin became mischievous, "Shady deals are going on, and I'm determined to find out what."

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Aelin forced a matching smile on her, "Well, this sounds like the making of an adventure."

Aedion was deeply involved with all the goings-on at The Pits. If Dorian managed to learn too much and expose them, he would go down hard. She wasn't directly implicated in anything beyond a little racketeering, but one prolonged look at her record would raise some eyebrows. Which could tie her back to Rifthold and numerous murders. A lot of murder. Thievery. Hired assassinations.

They would be screwed, essentially.

Damn it all to hellas, she needed to talk to Aedion. Aelin understood why Dorian was interested in this. His father was involved with so many corrupt dealings they followed him like a shadow. She knew he was socially isolated beyond herself and Chaol. No one dared to associate with the son of Dorian Sr.

Unveiling a corrupt business dealing and aiding the community could help separate his image from his father's. Rectify some of the wrongs his family has committed. Give him a chance at making a future for himself out from Dorian Sr.'s thumb.

Aelin just wished he knew the depth of the task he was taking. How deep, dark, and dangerous this viper's den was. Sweet, sheltered Dorian Jr. would be eaten alive. A blue-eyed pup, trapped in the jaws of an adder.

Little did he know that Aelin was a wolf herself, and she would not stand for that breaking.

Aelin directed the conversation to safer grounds following the bomb he dropped. They discussed the book he was reading, the litter of pups his dog was expecting, his disgusting little brother. Chaol seemed to sour at the mention of Holland.

Soon they were provided with fresh drinks, and Aelin ushered them out under the pretense of needing a nap. Definitely not a lie. Her stomach was rolling again, and that blooming headache was now a whole damn rosebush in her brain.

Rubbing the knot between her eyes, she made the difficult decision of closing for the day. Business was slow. Lysandra hadn't come back downstairs. Aelin wasn't feeling well, and there was no chance she was letting Aedion use her precious machines again.

Aelin looked outside the window. It was grey and dreary outside. Perfect conditions for the three of them to order pizza, rent a movie and just put this day behind them.

"Aedion, I'm closing up." She didn't hear a reply. Aelin shrugged it off. He'd probably gone back up to sit with Lysandra.

She opened a can of coffee grounds and inhaled wistfully. What she wouldn't give for a cup of straight caffeine. With one last longing sniff, Aelin refilled canisters for tomorrow and got to cleaning up the machines.

All that was left was to close up the registers.

She'd just unlocked the drawer when the ring of the shop bells went off.

"Sorry, we're closed," Aelin said without looking away from the task at hand. She would have to remember to lock the doors first next time.

Heavy boots thudded against her wooden floors as whoever it was approached the counter. Her irritation peeked. What was with the influx of entitled assholes lately?

"We are close-" Aelin's stopped and her eyes narrowed at the gun barrel aimed at the center of her forehead.

I’m figuring out how the tagging list thing works- ☺️

If you would like me to add or take your name off the list for future updates let me know~

@thisismylibrary

@highladywhitethrone

@bee55

@royalsqueeze

@rowaelin-cressworth

@sjmships

#aelinandrowan #poorlysandra #sexyapronaedion #aelinneedsadamnnap #coffeeshopau #fanfic #suspenseintensifies

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sugamontana93 · 3 years

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Tony Montana (18+) BTS FF Chapter 1

You can also find this story on wattpad @SugaMontana93

https://www.wattpad.com/user/SugaMontana93

"Highly Elusive and Dangerous Chinese Mafia Boss, Yong Go Sil, was found murdered four days ago in ShangHai. It is rumored that he had ties to Seoul via family, but nothing has been confirmed. He has been wanted by the Chinese Government, along with South Korean and American agencies due to the wreckless drug sales, senseless acts of violence and murders spanning from continent to continent over the last twenty years. Police believe that another crime family, also known as Blood Kings, were responsible for the mafia leaders' demise. If you have any tips leading to The Yong Mafia and The Notorious South Korean mafia 'The Blood Kings', please call our hotline at XXX-XXX-XXXX. This is Park Reina with Seoul Now News."

Yoongi smirked as he turned off the news and settled down on the leather couch in Hybe's conference room. The other members smirked at each other before their manager, Bang Si-Hyuk, entered with a stern face. Their manager, no matter how wholesome and sweet he was in the public, knew exactly who and what BTS were behind the scenes. He was the one who passed it on to them. Yoongi's knowledge of Daegu sealed their fate the day they signed the contract with Big Hit. At the beginning, not a single one of the seven knew what was happening until Bang approached them with more opportunities that life as simple idols wouldn't be able to give them. Namjoon may be the leader of BTS, but it was Yoongi that dealt with the rest.

"I see you went through with it," Bang said as he sat down at the head of the table. "Mind telling me how you managed to find him in such a short amount of time?"

"I did it," Taehyung smirked as he looked at his manager. "Yoongi gave myself and my soldiers access to some of the things you left behind. The asshole was slick, I give you that. If it wasn't for Jungkook's keen eye, I would have never gotten Hyunsoo to tail him for as long as I had. Seokjin-Hyung pulled the trigger himself."

"And you managed to go to China to do that," Bang lifted his brow. "I don't see how that's possible."

"We didn't go to China. He was here. In Seoul," Seokjin added. "We don't know why he was here, but he knew he had been made. It was actually quite easy to get rid of him."

"How'd you get his body to Shanghai?"

"Jungkook's soldiers. Most of them are based in China to keep an eye out for other mafia that may come as a threat to us."

"For him to not fight is strange to me," Bang murmured. "Yoongi, are you going to look into this?"

"Already on it, sir," The mafia leader smiled back. "I should have some results by the end of the week."

"Even though I'm not the boss anymore, please keep me informed. I want to keep the authorities away as much as I can."

"Of course, sir."

"Now," Bang said while clapping his hands, "let's move on to more calm matters. Yoongi, your stylist Jaenie has put in her notice to leave the company. She and her husband have just found out that they're expecting twins and she'll need to be on bed rest due to her pre-existing health conditions."

"Aw, babies," Jungkook cooed, making the others laugh. "Good for her. I heard her telling Yoongi-hyung that they were trying."

"I'm happy for her," Yoongi grinned. The stereotype that surrounded Mafia leaders wasn't how Yoongi was. How you saw him on stage and on candid footage, that was him. Truly him. He wasn't mean or heartless to people that worked with him, his elders, his family or anything of the sort. The only time people knew how dark he was, was when the mafia side kicked in. He had his own persona. He was the infamous 'Tony Montana of South Korea' afterall. He only made people fear him when they needed it. That's why no one was brave enough to cross The Blood Kings.

"Which brings us to our next point," Bang said while pulling out a file. "Your replacement stylist will be starting tomorrow."

"But I thought Jaenie Noona would be here for two more weeks?"

"I told her to take these extra two weeks early. I'm paying her quadruple her usual salary and a hefty bonus to help with any things she needs for the babies. I also started them a trust fund because Jaenie has been one hell of a good employee."

"She dealt with Yoongi's hormonal early teenage years. You should have just given her the presidential medal of honor," Seokjin snickered. Yoongi shot him a go to hell look and then sighed.

"Yeah, you're probably right," he chuckled. "So, who is she?"

Bang opened the file and pulled out her resume.

Name: Grei Romano

Age: 29

Birthdate: January 1st, 1992

Born: Sicily, Italy

Parent's: Luca and Soleil Romano

Graduated Seoul School of Arts 2010, Licensed Cosmetologist and Esthetician 2011, Bachelor's Degree in Communications 2015.

IQ: 148

Current Residence: Seoul, South Korea

Languages: English, Cantonese, Italian, Korean, Japanese, Spanish and French.

Marital Status: Single

Children: 0

Bank: Seoul National Bank

Bank Account Balance: 1,425,504.00₩

"Damn. Are we hiring a stylist or recruiting someone into the mafia," Namjoon whistled as he looked down at all of the information. "She's smart."

"And broke," Taehyung said while crossing his arms. "She has two licenses and a huge degree. Why so little money?"

"She lives in Hannam, so it's all got to be going to normal bills. Relax, Taehyung. I checked her out and did a thorough background check. You know how I am about hiring people that know who you are as BTS." Bang pulled out her photograph and slid it across the table. "This is who will be coming tomorrow. I've given strict instructions to the staff if anyone else comes and does not match this picture, we'll be calling the police. I can't have you all exposed to crazy fans coming in here again or have anyone snooping in BK business."

Yoongi stared at her photograph and his mouth watered. She was exquisite, breathtaking. Nothing could come close to describing how beautiful she was. Her eyes were what drawed him in. They were beautiful...but somehow familiar.

"Hyung, pick your jaw up." Jimin bursted out laughing and snatched the picture from Yoongi's clutches. "She's hot."

"Coming from you, I know not to worry about you getting yourself in trouble with her," Bang said as he looked over his glasses. "Namjoon, Hoseok and Yoongi possibly. But not you."

"How do you know I won't try anything with her, Bang-ssi?"

Si-hyuk crossed his arms and lifted his brow. "I've known you for eleven years, Jimin. I also know that you and Hoseok are dating." Jimin and Hoseok are still in their chairs and look at the other members with wide eyes. "I also know that Namjoon and Jin and Taehyung and Jungkook are dating. You boys trying to hide everything from me has been a sight. Now stop pretending." Bang motioned from them to speak while six of the members looked like their manager had just shot their dog. "Look, I don't care what you all do. Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook, I know you're gay. I'm your second father. I know these things. Just like I know that Hoseok is bisexual, Jin and Namjoon have never thought about dating the same sex until they met each other and Yoongi's pansexual. You all know this about each other. I'm sure you've all had your private talks. It's my job to know these things, boys. I don't care. You're all happy right?"

They all nodded in response.

"Great."

Yoongi's phone began to ring, jerking everyone out of the awkward atmosphere. "Fuck," Yoongi growled as he answered his phone. "What is it, Han?" Yoongi's hand gripped the table as Han related valuable information to him. His knuckles were white, face as cold as stone as he listened to Han break down everything that has happened over the last hour. He slammed his phone down and closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. When they opened, Yoongi was gone.

The Mafia Boss was standing still as stone in his place, eyeing the members and his manager as he tried to steady his breathing.

"What is it, son," Bang said while standing up.

Yoongi chuckled and adjusted the rings on his finger.

"Seems like Yong Go Sil has someone taking over his mafia."

"Who?" The rest all stood waiting for further instruction.

"His daughter."

#bts #btsau #minyoongi #junghoseok #parkjimin #kimtaehyung #jeonjungkook #btssmut #btsmafia #taekook #jihope #namjin #btsfanfic #agustd

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radiosandrecordings · 4 years

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So @pitviperofdoom wrote a beautiful piece I have not stopped thinking about a while ago with QPPs Jon and Gerry that you should go and read here. They kindly allowed to let me go off on a tangent inspired by it, so here’s a conversation from the night before that fic where I just get emotional over these two and let myself indulge in their dynamic.

Background GerryOliver and JonMartin. Warnings for alcohol consumption and general drunkenness.

“Who’re you gonna bring, eh?”

It was rounding on eleven o’clock, and they were both sprawled about the room, letting the dull buzz of alcohol set in. Jon was slumped on the couch, and Gerry had, at some point, collapsed into the IKEA chair with the weird curved bar holding it up that Jon had never quite trusted the stability of. He’d kicked off his boots after they’d finished eating, his socked feet now resting on the coffee table, nestled between discarded takeaway boxes and bottles of drink. The scotch still stood there uncapped, and minus three glasses. Jon had taken one when Gerry had poured it for him, and Gerry a second after that, while Jon switched to some dark, fruity cider Gerry had found for him at the back of the fridge.

Jon jolted slightly. “What?” He was on his second bottle and the only thing stopping him from nodding off then and there was the fact that suddenly, the fridge was humming incredibly loudly and it was a great distraction. That’s what he gets for getting hammered on a friday straight from work. Was he hammered? A bottle and a half of cider and one glass of scotch didn’t seem like enough to do that but the way that persistent buzzing was pounding at his skull suggested maybe that was enough for the evening.

“Well you get a plus one. Two, if you want, best man privileges and all that.”

Jon’s mouth was dry. He should really get some water. But also, he didn’t really like the thought of having to stand up. “I… Don’t know. I usually bring you.” He pulled a face. “I’m not sure I know anyone that you wouldn’t be inviting anyway.”

“No one from team spooky you’d want to bring to cry on after you walk me down the isle?”

Gerry let out an overdramatic ‘Oof’ as Jon half heartedly attempted to reach over and slap him on the leg. “Stop! Calling us! That!”

“I’ll stop calling you it when the shoe stops fitting. You’re a spooky little team that investigates spooky spooky things. You’re gonna have to accept that one day.”

“Says the man in the process of opening an exclusively horror-based bookshop with his- Well I suppose he’s going to be your husband now. Huh. God, I feel old.”

“I will not hear the good name of ‘Spine Chilling’ slandered in my household Jonathan! And- Well fuck, yeah, you’ve got a point there don’t you. Shit, when did I become ‘Bookshop Husband #2’. We used to be cool. Now we pay taxes and shit. Ripe old age of thirty.”

Jon laughed, and it only hurt his head a little bit. Small mercies. “I would argue you’re still rather cool. In my books at least.” He paused for a moment, letting the air settle into a more sombre tone. “Do you… Do you regret any of it?”

“Not for a second,” Gerry said, running his fingers along the ring that rested on his left hand. He shifted in his seat, and began to tug his hair out of the plait that had been draped over one shoulder. “You never answered the question though. What’ll it be, are we going to have to drunk find you a date? I’m sure there’s an app for fake wedding dates now. Bloody app for everything.”

“Do I need one?” Jon replied, and it came out dangerously close to a whine.

“Well no, but I can’t pay attention to you all day because apparently I’ll have a husband to stare in wonder at or some shit, and Georgie might snap if you spend more than an hour crying on her. And don’t give me that look, you’ll cry! You always say you won’t but you teared up earlier when I told you so I am doing my duty and trying to get you a cuddle buddy.”

“That’s-” Jon started, sounding almost tetchy, before deflating slightly. With Gerry, at least, he knew when to admit defeat. “Okay, so you might have a point… Has Oliver picked anyone out already?”

“You won’t like it.”

“Oh, christ.”

“Yup. Well what did you expect? Jane is his best friend, I’m sorry I know you don’t get on but I can’t exactly tell him no, you can tolerate each other for a day!”

“Worms! All over my archive! How she got them past Rosie still boggles the mind, and really-”

Gerry waved a hand as he tried to cut him off, “Okay, okay, yes I’ve heard the story more than once, I get it, I won’t even put you at the same table. If it makes it better I’ll see what whatever venue we choose’s policy on animals is. Admiral seems like he’d make a good emotional support cat. Get him a little tux or something.”

“As much as I like the idea, I’m not quite sure he’d appreciate it. Unless you’re getting wed in somewhere with copious amounts of radiators, I think he’d be better off at home.”

“You don’t know!” Gerry said, pointing wildly, some of his energy seeming to kick back in after managing to maintain a conscious conversation, “Could be getting hitched in a radiator factory. That’d be something.”

And Jon was glad Gerry was starting to feel more lively, but by the way laughter made his head pound he certainly was not. He smiled through the grimace. “Maybe so.” He had apparently, in a stroke of genius earlier, left himself a glass of water on the table. He’d take that about now, thanks.

“What about Martin?”

And now there was water spilled down his front. Great. “I’m sorry?” He sputtered.

“Don’t apologise, it’ll dry.”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Jon growled, setting the water back down.

Gerry gave him a faux sweet smile. There was a lapse in the conversation while Jon tugged his jumper off and tossed it onto the sofa next to him. Once he was done wrestling with the wool, Gerry spoke up again. “Seriously though, what about him? I haven’t seen you act like that with anyone since Georgie.”

“I act like that with you!” Jon cried.

“Yes, but I’m special,” Gerry said, pressing his fingers to his lips and blowing a kiss across the room. “And also, you did just admit you act a specific way with him, so. Check and mate.”

“I hate drunk Jon,” he muttered. “Okay, so, we go out for lunch sometimes, and that means I have more anecdotes to tell about him than Tim or Sasha, so I end up talking about him more. And I notice more things about him, like how he has more freckles in the summer than the rest of the year, but that’s just because he spends more time in my office because he seems determined to win the record for most tea made in a workplace environment in a year. So what?”

Gerry looked intolerably smug. “Oh, no, you keep going with your list there, really proving your point.”

Jon groaned. “Shut up.”

“Okay, I will, I will, I just.. You do clearly like him Jon. And I won’t pressure you into anything, obviously, but just give yourself a chance, huh? You’re discarding the thought out of hand.”

Jon made a ‘humph’ of petulance. “Right. Fine. Okay. When’s the wedding?”

“Will you refuse to come if I say Halloween?”

“I will get around to mocking it later, but no. That’s what…” And admittedly, the alcohol was enough that he had to count on his fingers for this one, “Nine? Nine months away?”

“You got it in the end.”

“Once again, Mr Delano-Banks, shut your mouth-”

“Hey-”

“I will update you in eight months time. Until then you are not to bring it up. Deal?”

Gerry stuck out a bottom lip, “Not sure I was expecting that to be how I heard that name for the first time, but wow, okay. And yes, that’s a deal.”

“Good. Now if you excuse me, I am promptly about to pass out on your sofa.”

Gerry got up and stretched, the sound of his knuckles popping making Jon cringe. He glanced up at the clock, before moving the offending jumper away and letting himself drop down on the sofa next to Jon. “Not even midnight yet. What’d I say. Old men, the both of us.”

“Shush. Pillows can’t talk,” Jon muttered, gently manoeuvring his partner so they were both lying horizontal on the sofa, before burying his face in Gerry’s shoulder.

“G’night” he muttered into the sofa fabric of his t-shirt. “I’m really happy for you.”

“Thanks,” Gerry said, pressing a quick kiss to Jon’s hair. “I am too.”

#My Post #god I struggle to write for SO LONG. and then these two have me writing 1.5K in one sitting. huh #Jongerry #The Magnus Archives #Jonathan Sims #Gerard Keay #Gerry Delano #the professional tag and the better tag #... okay so it has it referenced so I can get away with tagging it #Jonmartin #My Writing

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storyofmychoices · 4 years

Text

Original Murder Mystery Story

So I’ve been very uninspired as of late and I keep thinking about this novel I started almost six years ago now. I think I might take some time to work on it. I don’t know. But I thought I’d post the first chapter here incase anyone is interested in reading it. I’m not tagging anyone so this post will probably get lost in tumblr abyss and I’m okay with that. But if it doesn’t and you enjoy it, please, please let me know (like, comment, message me, reblog?!) I’ve never shared original work before so I’m quite nervous. (also, I guess, if it’s not good, please tell me (nicely of course) constructive criticism is good too.)

We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected to participate in an all-new reality television series. We have found that given your particular professional and personal experiences, you are an ideal fit for the cast. Official auditions will not be held for the premiere season, as the creators wish to film the entirety of the first round without the ever-watching eye of the public. In this day and age, we cannot be too careful.

Should you choose to accept our humble invitation, simply call the number below and enter your unique pin number when requested. If you choose to decline the offer, we ask that you return this letter in the enclosed self-addressed stamped envelope.

We look forward to hearing from you soon.

Our most sincere congratulations,

Truest Noon Productions

Phone: 1-800-687-3378

Pin: 58834633668

Mr. Danforth chuckled. He was far too old and out of shape to have been chosen. There must have been a mistake. No, certainly he would not be qualified for any of those reality television shows. “It’s the young folks they want,” he thought to himself. “They all want their fifteen minutes of fame. No, no. I am far too old to be getting involved in anything like that. Me on the television?” He couldn’t fathom it.

Tossing the letter onto the pile of junk mail on his desk, he put his feet up in his recliner and rested from his long day at the security office.

☆ ☆ ☆

Ding, dong. Ding, dong. Diiiiing, Dooooong. Knock, knock, knock. Knock, knock, knock.

Ms. Drake pressed her nose against her dining room window, watching the mysterious deliveryman across the street. Her hair tightly wound in curlers, it was a wonder she could move at all without her scalp pulling off. She leaned back and took a long drag of her almost finished cigarette. She crushed the butt on a dish to her left without looking, turning her focus again to Mrs. Mulberry’s house across the street. The deliveryman continued to press the doorbell fervently.

“I wonder what that could be about,” Ms. Drake said to herself. “Who delivers mail at ten to six in the morning?”

“What was taking Mrs. Mulberry so long to answer the door?” Ms. Drake thought, changing window positions. Certainly, she would be readying for work by this time? How could she leave that poor man standing there like an idiot? Not on her watch.

Ms. Drake tightened her silk floral housecoat around herself and moved toward the door. Her slippers were ready for her morning walk to the mailbox for the paper. She typically waited until Mr. Barnes was leaving for work so they could exchange their daily salutations, but today she would deviate from her routine. After all, she couldn’t leave that poor, helpless deliveryman standing in the damp morning air. That would not be neighborly at all.

Waddling out of her house, Ms. Drake raised a hand to attract the man’s attention. “Yoo hoo. Oh, yoo hoooo.”

He turned toward the sound of Ms. Drake’s howling call. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I see you’re looking for Mrs. Mulberry. Perhaps she’s left for work already,” Ms. Drake suggested, knowing fully well that Mrs. Mulberry did not leave for work until 7:00 a.m.

“Yes, ma’am. I have been instructed to hand-deliver this letter to her,” the man held out a large blue envelope with silver calligraphy; Ms. Drake’s gaze was immediately taken by it. “I don’t suppose you know when she might return? It is of the utmost importance that she gets this letter quickly.”

“Oh, my dear,” Ms. Drake said, fluttering her eyes at the man easily thirty years her junior. “I know Mrs. Mulberry quite well; we have been neighbors for the better part of two decades. I could deliver the letter to her.”

“That’s very kind ma’am, but my directions are to place the letter in Mrs. Mulberry’s hands directly. I’m not even to leave it at her door for her. She must receive it straight away.”

“Well then, it’s a pity that you’ll not succeed in your task. I only wanted to help you on your way!” Ms. Drake turned up her pug nose at him, an attribute certainly the result of pressing it against her window far too many times over the years. “I bid you a good day then.”

Ms. Drake sulked back to her house, failing to retrieve her newspaper. What was in that envelope and why was it so important? She had to know.

“Wait,” the man called.

Ms. Drake’s curlers almost burst off her head; she could hardly contain herself. “Yes, my dear?” She slowly turned around giving the man a determined look.

“It’s urgently important Mrs. Mulberry receives this letter today; can you assure me you will get it to her?” The man asked skeptically.

“Of course, yes. Mrs. Mullberry’s letter is in safe hands with me.” She held out her thick hands in his direction, her fingers wagging invitingly.

Apprehensively, he turned the envelope over to her. “You’re a lifesaver. I really wouldn’t have had time to return this evening. I must be getting on with my other deliveries.”

“Of course, of course. What are neighbors for if not to help out those around them?”

“That’s very kind of you ma’am. Well, I better be off. Thank you, Mrs....”

“Ms. Drake,” she replied. “Ms. Cordelia Drake.”

“Well then, thank you, Ms. Drake. It has been a pleasure.” He smiled and was off.

Ms. Drake anxiously looked back at Mrs. Mulberry’s house. “Good,” she thought. “She doesn’t know yet.” Ms. Drake waddled her way back into the house, tucking the envelope under her robe.

☆ ☆ ☆

Ms. Banks swiftly pressed the numbers on her phone with her long, manicured nails. “Shoot, a voice recording.” She said quietly to herself in her soft southern accent. Ms. Isabella Banks had no trouble seeing why she would be chosen for a new television series. The blonde bombshell had won Homecoming and Prom Queen at her high school, as well as placed as runner up for Ms. Georgia. Of course, they’d want her.

Isabella practiced her award-winning smile. Yes, it would be good to be in the spotlight again. She must get through to the number. She dialed more slowly this time, speaking each number aloud as she tapped the keypad. The recording again–didn’t anyone want to talk with her directly, she wondered.

☆ ☆ ☆

Liam Flynn, a rock musician, found himself in possession of a letter welcoming him to join a reality TV pilot. “To accept is defeat,” he grumbled, tossing the letter in his overflowing trashcan. “Only washed-up artists do reality TV. I’m not that desperate.”

His greasy dark bangs fell in front of his eyes as he opened his fridge. He carelessly pushed them aside and grabbed a beer. It was the closest thing to food that he had in his apartment. “Well, maybe, I’ll just hear them out. I could plan a comeback and use this as a launching point. Yes, that’s it!” Liam retrieved the paper, dialed the number, punched in his pin number, and listened to the recorded instructions. His hopes dashed a little as he too had wished to speak with a live person.

☆ ☆ ☆

“Congratulations Mr. Martin,” read Adam. “What is it with all these scam contests? Why can’t one of these for once be legit? That would change everything.” Adam had been a star football player in high school and got a scholarship to play for the University of Michigan, but a shoulder injury took him out freshmen year. He needed some good news.

“I should give them a piece of my mind. Sending these letters, getting people’s hopes up, just to scam them. Who do they think they are?”

He furiously pounded his phone as he dialed the number. He would tell them. The second a voice spoke, he started ranting until he realized it was just a recording. “What a waste,” he thought. Well, he was this far, why not? He punched in his pin number and listened. He would receive a call in a day with further instructions. “Oh, I’m sure,” he began talking to the automated voice. “Yes, Mr. Martin, thank you for calling and verifying your award. Yes, all we need now is your bank account information, social security number, and credit cards,” he mocked.

“No, thank you.” He slammed his phone on the counter.

☆ ☆ ☆

Doctor Caitlyn Grey sat behind the large mahogany desk in her private office in Jacksonville, Florida. Her long legs crossed under her desk as she kicked her heels on and off. What a terribly boring day, she thought. Her calendar book was filled, yet Dr. Grey found her patients’ problems to be trivial. “The things people see a psychiatrist for these days.” She laughed to herself. Hadn’t she chosen this path to help people with real disorders? Why then is her day filled with people like Joan Hall who spends every minute of her bi-weekly hour-long sessions talking about her eleven cats and making cat noises? So, maybe there was an underlying cause for this behavior. When Joan had first come in, hadn’t she tried to ask questions and engage Joan? It was Joan who would not talk about herself and chose to focus only on her cats. There were fifteen of them then. “I guess that’s progress,” Dr. Grey reminisced.

“Your mail is here, Dr. Grey,” said Miranda, the good doctor’s secretary. She placed the mail on Dr. Grey’s desk.

“Thank you, and Miranda, call Antonio’s and make me a dinner reservation for tomorrow night.”

“Of course, Dr. Grey, How many?”

“Just one, but make sure you tell them to reserve my special table.”

Miranda gave a curt nod and left Dr. Grey alone with her thoughts and only the sound of her pumps popping on and off to fill the room. Dr. Grey shuffled through the mail tossing each unopened envelope back on the desk until she came across a unique blue one with silver lettering.

No return address, she noted. As she opened it, a sly smile broke across her face. A reality show really wanted a psychiatrist in its cast? Well, it would be to her advantage. She would, of course, see through their thinly veiled plots and uncover the truth. “Oh, yes,” she thought. “This could be enjoyable.”

Dr. Grey called the number and followed the instructions. She hung up the receiver and paged Miranda on the intercom. “Miranda?”

“Yes, Dr. Grey?”

“Be a dear and clear my schedule for next Tuesday. I’ve just received a call about an urgent meeting I must attend.”

“Of course, Dr. Grey. Is everything alright?”

“Oh, yes. I believe everything will be just splendid.”

☆ ☆ ☆

“Truest Noon Productions. How lame,” Emma Riley decided. And yet, something about the name intrigued her. She had never heard of them before. She sat pondering the content of the letter. The twenty-one-year-old college student attended New York University with an undeclared major. She had entered the school when she was seventeen and had jumped from program to program. Why would anyone want her on television? She was a loner, who cared less about reality television than the over-hyped pop artists with whom radio stations are determined to melt listeners’ brains. And yet, this one intrigued her.

Emma pulled up a search engine on her computer and entered “Truest Noon Productions.” A dozen websites popped up in the results, but none an exact match. She couldn’t find any digital record of the company at all. She searched the phone number in hopes of pulling up a business listing. Nothing. She tried the address on the return envelope. Nothing. According to the map app on her phone, the address didn’t even exist. How could it not exist?

“I guess they really are keeping this show under wraps,” she contemplated. Emma stared at the letter and read it over and over again. There was just something about it, something peculiar. What was it?

She held the paper up to the light, but only found a logo imprinted in the threads of the paper. Unable to discover what was puzzling her, about the letter, she pulled out her phone and dialed the number. She pressed ‘0’ hoping to be transferred to a live person. It was no use; there was only the recording.

☆ ☆ ☆

Ms. Drake sat in the kitchen, her curious hands clutching the envelope. It was too thick and dark to see through. She had tried holding it up to the sun and a lamp. Neither came close to illuminating the contents. The envelope was sealed tightly, so there was no chance of accidentally opening it. Steam, she thought. She quickly boiled a large pot of water holding the envelope carefully over it. It was taking too long.

“He did say it was urgent,” she remarked. “Maybe I should open it, just in case it’s time-sensitive. Yes, yes, I think that will do.”

She took her letter opener and carefully broke the seal. “A reality television series? Mrs. Mulberry? No, it couldn’t be. They must have the wrong person,” Ms. Drake shook her head in protest. Then, she got an idea. The letter wasn’t actually addressed to Mrs. Mulberry at all. The envelope certainly was, but the letter was nameless. “I shouldn’t,” she muttered while grabbing the phone and dialing the number. “Well, who could it really hurt?” She admitted to herself. She couldn’t imagine Mrs. Mulberry accepting, and why should the opportunity go to waste?

(if you are interested in more and want to be tagged, please let me know)

((also if you made it this far OMGOSH HI AND THANK YOU 🥺😭))

#original work #original story #🙈#writing #novel #mystery #writer problems #writer #story #work in progress #delete later

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pengychan · 4 years

Text

[Good Omens] Winging It - Isaiah 40:31

Summary: Shockingly, attempting to destroy an angel without consulting God first comes with consequences. There is more than one way to fall, and a thousand more ways to inconvenience an angel and a demon who just wanted to be left in peace. Characters: Gabriel, Crowley, Aziraphale, Beelzebub, Michael, Uriel, Sandalphon Rating: T

Prologue and all chapters are tagged as ‘winging it’ on my blog.

A/N: well, shit hits the fan and the end is near.

***

As the boy who was most assuredly Not The Antichrist - but who had nonetheless been their charge for about the first eleven years of his life - walked towards the front door of the bookshop in Soho, entirely unaware of being stalked by a man with a pocket knife, Aziraphale stood in the bedroom of a lovely cottage in the South Downs, not far from the Devil’s Dyke.

He knew it was rather rude, being roughly seventy-five miles away from the place where you happen to have an appointment in about five minutes’ time, but surely it was not too much of an issue, given that they would be right back in the bookshop by crossing the threshold of a rather miraculous door they had installed between the two places. And besides, Crowley had really wanted to show him something.

That something being a luxurious, huge and hugely gaudy canopy bed with gold-plated columns and red velvet drapes that wouldn’t have looked too out of place in Versailles, before revolutionaries took most of its contents to an uncertain fate. As a piece of furniture still occasionally turned up in flea markets, Aziraphale wouldn’t put it beyond the realm of possibilities.

Said bed now occupied the greater part of the bedroom that Crowley had insisted they ought to have in the cottage, against Aziraphale’s suggestion to turn it into another room for his books.

“We already have the loft for those, and the bookshop on the other side of the door,” he’d pointed out. “We need a bedroom.”

Aziraphale, who had actually last slept sometime in the nineteenth century and solely out of boredom while watching an especially poor performance of Troilus and Cressida - in itself far from Shakespeare’s best work, and the lead actor’s lisp had done it no favors - had been slightly taken aback. “But, my dear, we don’t need sleep,” he’d said, getting a snort out of Crowley.

“We don’t need to eat either. So what?”

Aziraphale had to concede he had a point, although he didn’t quite see the allure of laying in a semi-comatose state for several hours while hallucinating the same way he saw the allure of a slice of red velvet cake, and agreed that the cottage would indeed have a bedroom. It was only fair considering the space he had for his books, so that was a compromise he did not regret.

Telling Crowley he was welcome to choose whatever bed he liked himself, however, was something Aziraphale did regret. He knew that Crowley’s taste when it came to furniture ranged from dreadfully minimalistic to unbearably garish, but this - the golden columns, the red heavy velvet - was… a little too much.

“Well, what do you think?” Crowley was asking, looking as proud of himself as he had after moving that golden monstrosity he called a throne right next to Aziraphale’s old trusty armchair in the loft, entirely ignoring the way Aziraphale’s right eyebrow had twitched.

This time, it was the left eyebrow to twitch.

“Well, it is-- rather…” Aziraphale raked his brain for a polite way to put it. “Eye-catching.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Crowley grinned, even prouder. Aziraphale suspected his euphemism had been a little too subtle. “I remembered what you said when I came to save your butt in France.”

“... That I wanted crêpes?”

“That you had standards. French royalty standards.”

“Well, it was not quite royalty level, more along the lines of a noble--”

“This beauty comes straight from Versailles.”

Ah, of course. Of course it did.

“Or, well, not so straight. It went around across Europe quite a bit. But here it is, as you see.”

“Yes. I… I do see.” Aziraphale managed a smile. No harm done, he thought - he didn’t have a habit to sleep as Crowley did, so he would hardly ever need to be in that room at all. He would just entirely forget about that bed. Out of sight, out of mind.

“The mattress is new, clearly. You’ll like it. Real plush.”

Aziraphale blinked. “That sounds nice, but I am not in the habit of sleeping.”

“You should try. Nothing better than some time spent in a semi-comatose state while vividly hallucinating.”

A chuckle. “You’re not making it sound very alluring.”

“Ah, I should up my temptation game. I’m out of practice. When was the last time I tempted you into anything?”

“This morning, actually, you--”

The chiming of the grandfather clock downstairs - a very tasteful eighteenth century clock Aziraphale had long debated whether to move in the cottage or keep in the bookshop - cut him off, and reminded him of… well, of the time.

“I believe Warlock should arrive any moment now - we should head back,” he said, and they did. It looked like the boy might get there before Gabriel popped in to return the book, and if that turned out to be the case… well, Aziraphale really hoped he had enough sense to put the book in a bag or something like it. If not, they may need to have a few words.

There were things an eleven-year-old boy really didn’t need to see.

***

“Ugh, c’mon, they knew I was coming…” Warlock Dowling huffed, taking a couple of steps away from the door of the bookshop which had stayed closed, no matter how hard he knocked. He glanced at the sign in the window; it made just as little sense as it did the first time he read it.

I open the shop on most weekdays about 9:30 or perhaps 10am. While occasionally I open the shop as early as 8, I have been known not to open until 1, except on Tuesday. I tend to close about 3:30pm, or earlier if something needs tending to. However, I might occasionally keep the shop open until 8 or 9 at night, you never know when you might need some light reading. On days that I am not in, the shop will remain closed. On weekends, I will open the shop during normal hours unless I am elsewhere. Bank holidays will be treated in the usual fashion, with early closing on Wednesdays, or sometimes Fridays. (For Sundays see Tuesdays). A.Z. Fell, Bookseller

Warlock briefly wondered who A. Z. Fell was, really - the founder? A co-owner? It definitely was not Brother Francis’ name, but he had claimed to be the owner, which was a leap from working as a gardener but not a claim Warlock had any reason to doubt. Brother Francis did not lie, after all. He hated lies and got really cross with him whenever he caught him lying, usually after Nanny-- after Crowley suggested he did.

“Pair of weirdos. Always been,” Warlock muttered, but it wasn’t really a complaint; they were a fun pair of weirdos to grow up around, or else he wouldn’t have tracked them down in London. After checking through the window to see if anyone was in, and seeing, no one, Warlock reached in his pocket for his phone and began looking for Crowley’s number.

Focused as he was on the screen, he failed to notice the man approaching with a hand in his pocket, eyes fixed on him and pupils blown so wide his eyes looked entirely black. On the opposite side of the road Hastur, Duke of Hell, retreated from the mortal’s mind with a smirk and prepared to enjoy the scene with eyes just as black.

***

“... So no, I really doubt the London Dungeon holds prisoners anymore, but it would be an interesting thing to--”

“Silence,” Beelzebub spoke suddenly, stopping abruptly in their tracks and causing Gabriel to almost bump into them and drop the book, something for which Aziraphale would probably be very, very cross with him. He frowned.

“It’s not my fault that they have stopped using the dungeons, if that’s such an issue I suppose we could change plans and--”

“Something’s wrong.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t you sense-- ah. No, you can’t anymore,” Beelzebub muttered, and looked around with a scowl. “A demon is at work. It was my order that no one was to approach the traitors.”

Gabriel blinked. “Maybe it’s Crowley--”

“It’s not,” Beelzebub all but snarled, staring at someone some distance away. Further down the pavement stood a man that looked… wrong, for the lack of a better word; something not human who made a passingly decent job at masquerading as human, but not quite good enough. Gabriel may not be able to sense demonic or angelic presences anymore, but he could see as much.

“Hastur,” Beelzebub scoffed.

Ah, Gabriel was vaguely familiar with the name - Hastur, Duke of Hell. Not someone he’d be pleased to meet anywhere in general, but seeing him there was especially worrying. He recalled Michael mentioning that out of all demons, he held a particular grudge against Crowley. Was that grudge really so great that he would ignore a direct order from Beelzebub to find Crowley in Soho and… and do what, exactly? “What is he doing here?”

“I’m about to find out. Wait here,” Beelzebub muttered, and walked - no, marched - directly towards the demon. “Hastur, Duke of Hell. What in Heaven are you doing here?”

Their voice caused the demon to recoil and turn his attention away from… whatever they had been staring at on the other side of the road. He was already deathly pale, but he seemed to grow just a tad paler as his gaze rested on a decidedly annoyed Prince of Hell planting themselves before him, arms crossed and clearly looking for a very good explanation why he would defy a direct order not to be anywhere near the traitorous demon that holy water could not destroy.

As he stammered some sort of reply, Gabriel let his gaze wander across the street. A man was walking towards the bookshop coming from the opposite direction, and he was… wait. Wait, he looked familiar - Gabriel had seen him before, a few months earlier, near the church where Daniel’s funeral service had just been held. He’d given him his coat because it was raining and talked briefly with him, and he had found it funny because his name was… his name…

“Noah!” Gabriel called out with a smile, walking towards him. “How are you doing? How’s your--”

The next word - dog? - died on his lips when he got to look, to really look, at Noah’s eyes. They looked no more human than those of the Duke of Hell currently getting a tongue-lashing only a few steps away, and they were fixed dead ahead of him as he kept walking, giving no sign of having heard or seen him. Walking towards the bookshop… and towards a boy fumbling with his phone right in front of it, back turned to them all. Something was off. Something was wrong.

A demon is at work, Beelzebub had said. Gabriel opened his mouth to cry out, to demand that Hastur, Duke of Hell, released that mortal from whatever hold he had on him - but before he could force out a single word, Noah’s hand came out of his pocket and something gleamed in the sunlight.

There was no time to cry out. No time for words, no time to think, no time to demand action from anyone other than himself. Gabriel knew there was one thing he ought to do now, one thing only. Ever since finding himself without plan or purpose, choices had not always come easy to him - the terror of choosing wrong often paralyzing him. But this one came with no effort: it was no choice at all. As a dark shadow fell on a boy he didn’t even know, Gabriel dropped the book he had come to return, and ran.

“NOAH! STOP!”

Noah did not turn, but the boy did. He lifted his gaze from his phone to glance over at Gabriel, clearly confused - then his confusion turned into alarm when Gabriel suddenly grabbed his arm and yanked him away.

“Hey! The hell?” the boy yelled, just as the knife descended on the spot he’d been standing only an instant before, narrowly missing the back of his neck. He tried to pull away from Gabriel’s grip, turning to call out for someone to get that madman off him - and froze when he finally saw the man standing behind him, eyes all black and lips pulled back in a snarl, swinging something at him.

Somewhere in his brain, he registered it was a knife. He tried once again to scream - mom, he thought, but if he’d managed to force out his voice he probably would have said something more along the lines of ‘shit’. Gabriel, from his part, didn’t try to speak again; he could tell Noah was beyond hearing him.

So he yanked the boy back once again, and threw himself between him and Noah. The result was, all things considered, extremely predictable.

Four and a half inches of steel buried themselves into Gabriel’s gut with a wet sound that went almost entirely unheard. There was a sense of heat, the pressure of a handle against his flesh and, at first, no pain. Gabriel found himself staring straight into pitch-black eyes for a moment before the pupils shrank to a normal size again, revealing the human eyes, light blue and filled with confusion. Somewhere behind Gabriel, the boy screamed and turned to bang on the door of Aziraphale’s bookshop.

People around them stopped walking to turn, not quite having caught up what was going on but slowly getting there. On the other side of the road, a panicked Duke of Hell disappeared in a cloud of smoke as soon as the Lord of the Flies turned to see what the commotion was about.

Gabriel tried to speak, to call out for Beelzebub - don’t hurt him, he didn’t know what he was doing - but a gurgling sound was all that left him, and something dripped down his chin.

“What…?” Noah muttered, blinking at him, and looked down. “Oh-- oh God, oh Jesus Christ, oh shit-- !” he cried out, voice high and panicked, and staggered back with the knife still in hand, dislodging from Gabriel’s flesh with another wet sound.

Blood came rushing forth, coldness set in, and so did pain. Gabriel’s knees folded, and he hit the ground just as the bloodied knife did. Noah stepped back again, shaking like a newborn calf.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry-- someone call an ambulance, I’m sorry, oh God…!”

Don’t bother calling out for God. They don’t answer. Not for me.

“Gabriel!” Beelzebub’s voice filled his ears, drowning out all the rest. There was a hand on the back of his head, lifting it, and he opened his eyes again to see them looking down at him, wide-eyed and scared in a way he had never seen them.

And Gabriel was scared, too, filled to the brim with the most primal, human terror - the most ancient sort of despair known to man. He suddenly knew why even Yeshua had faltered that night in the Garden of Gethsemane, pleading to escape the fate before him and avoid what he knew was unavoidable.

I don’t want to die.

He tried to speak, choking on his own blood. Somewhere behind him, a heavy door was thrown open and Aziraphale’s voice reached him as though from miles away.

“Warlock! My boy, what is-- oh. Oh dear, what…?”

“What the Heaven is going on?” Crowley’s voice was a couple octaves higher than usual, and suddenly there was silence, time itself stilled; the crowd all around them, Noah, even a bird flying past right above them remained fixed in time like so many statues. The boy was talking frantically to Crowley and Aziraphale, but Gabriel was unable to pay his words any mind. His gaze remained fixed on Beelzebub, and on Beelzebub only.

“Heal me,” he choked out. He felt cold all over, even with the wound itself throbbing in heat and pain the way the wounds on his back had, the day his wings were torn off. “Please.”

“Hastur will pay for this, he-- I-- of course, you idiot, be still--” their hand hovered above the blood-soaked shirt, and suddenly they hesitated. Their gaze found Gabriel’s, and held it. “... Sacrifice,” the Prince of Hell murmured.

“What…?”

“You sacrificed your life for another. That’s it. It’s your ticket back home, Gabriel.”

Home. Back in Heaven, where he belonged. Not quite in his old position - a mortal soul - but still, home. Except that… except that if he returned there as a mere mortal soul...

“No,” Gabriel wheezed. “No. I can’t. I-- would never-- be able to leave it-- again.”

“You never wished to leave it in the first pla--”

“Never see you-- again--” Gabriel coughed, and let out a weak groan at the excruciating pain. He could taste blood in his mouth, feel it down his throat, pooling down on the pavement around him; he felt his strength draining away with it. The back of Beelzebub’s free hand wiped some of it off his chin; the other still cupped the back of his head.

“... You will die either way in the end. You do not wish to reside in Hell and I will not force you.” Their plan of leaving behind Hell for good seemed to be far from their mind now. “This may be--” the Prince of Hell paused, and let out a shaky breath. “This may be your best chance, Gabriel.”

“No. Not now. Not yet,” Gabriel managed a smile. His vision was growing blurry. “I will take… all the time I can get. With you.” However little it may be. Such short life spans, but I will make it worth it. I must. I only get one shot. “So don’t-- let me die-- yet.”

For a moment Beelzebub only stared, their hand hovering above his wound. They swallowed, and opened their mouth to say something - only that someone else spoke first. Aziraphale.

“Oh, oh dear, what a dreadful mess-- Gabriel? It’s all right, hold on, I will heal you--”

“Keep away from him!” Beelzebub buzzed furiously, shooting a glare at Aziraphale, at Crowley, at the boy who was currently glued to Crowley’s side, staring with wide eyes at the scene before him and at the crowd frozen in time. The angel reared back, but did not give up.

“I mean to help him. Heal him.”

“I can heal him myself!” the Prince of Hell snapped, and pressed their hand on the bleeding wound. Pain shot up Gabriel’s body and he ground his teeth, waiting for relief, for healing, for the end of suffering… but none of it came.

Beelzebub pulled away a now bloodied hand, taken aback, struggling to comprehend what they were seeing. “It’s… it isn’t working. It won’t heal.”

Gabriel closed his eyes, despair sinking in his chest.

No. It cannot be. Not now, God, please. Don’t do this to me. Don’t let me die now that I have learned to live. Don’t take them from me again.

“... May I try, Lord Beelzebub?” Aziraphale spoke again, ever respectful, but the hesitation in his voice made it plain that he didn’t think they could succeed where Beelzebub had failed. Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut, and felt something trickling down his temples.

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why--

GABRIEL.

That voice, in the back of his mind and yet everywhere. Gabriel hadn’t heard it in such a long, long time, but hadn't forgotten it. His chest shuddered in a gasp, and he tried to speak again, to respond to the call - whether to cry, to beg, to curse he didn’t know. Before he could force out a single sound, another voice rose. Very familiar and decidedly concerned.

“Uuh, angel? Any idea what that is?”

“What-- oh. That might be our cue to move out of the way. Move away-- you too, Warlock, move back, my boy…”

What…?

Gabriel opened his eyes and looked up at the sky. Precisely above him, the blue of it was gone; clouds of blinding white had gathered in a circle, and within that circle was only light. The air around him seemed to crackle, and he knew what that meant. Gabriel tried to speak, to warn Beelzebub, but he could only cough up another mouthful of blood. On his tongue, he could now taste something else.

Ozone.

From a distance, once again came Aziraphale’s voice. “Lord Beelzebub, you ought to let go and--”

“No.” Beelzebub’s grip on Gabriel tightened, vicious and desperate at the same time. The air crackled, the clouds swirled, and Gabriel’s vision began to fade. His hand weakly gripped their jacket, but he was unable to do anything else. Beelzebub’s face was but a blur, but ah, their grip was unyielding. His eyes slipped shut, his head rolled against their chest.

“I refuse to let go. God cannot tell me what to do and neither can you.”

Don’t take them from me again. Please, please, please--

“Brother Francis, what the hell--”

“We’ll explain later, my boy - step back now, cover your eyes - don’t look, Crowley, make sure he doesn’t look--”

The crack of thunder covered his next words, filling the world, drowning out all noise. Gabriel felt the grip around him tightening, heard Beelzebub choke out something that sounded a lot like ‘you idiot’, and he opened his eyes.

And then there was only light.

***

In the instant before lighting struck, three things happened in quick succession.

First, Crowley pulled Warlock’s face to his chest to make sure he wouldn’t be blinded as many mortals had been before Heaven learned to somewhat tone it down; second, Crowley turned his back to the scene to avoid looking himself, and shield the boy while he was at it.

And third, Aziraphale’s wings unfolded to shield them both.

There was no heat, which was rather typical of Heavenly things: light without warmth, utterly unlike the darkness and heat - humid heat rather than raging flames, but all the more uncomfortable - that Aziraphale had experienced in his first, and hopefully only, visit to Hell.

Shielded by Aziraphale’s wings, Crowley kept his eyes tightly shut behind his glasses and Warlock’s face pressed against his shirt for several more moments after the last echo of the deafening thunder faded.

“Is it safe to turn, angel?” he asked, while Warlock kept muttering against his shirt a litany of words that mostly sounded like ‘what’, ‘the’ and ‘fuck’, in the order.

This time Aziraphale didn’t bother to make a mental note of talking with the boy about his language. Aside from being relieved the boy had not been stabbed, turned into salt, incinerated, blinded or deprived of his sanity, Aziraphale suspected they would have different, more pressing matters to discuss very shortly. “I’ll check. Don’t look yet,” he replied, and finally looked back.

The crowd of mortals was still around them, frozen in time, unscathed and unaware. The clouds were gone, quick as they had come - but there was a sphere of light before him, crackling with electricity where Beelzebub and Gabriel had been until moments earlier. In that light, there was… something. At first Aziraphale couldn’t make it out, but as he stepped closer and the light began to dull, he could see something all right.

And that something was a pair of folded wings.

At first, Aziraphale thought he must be looking at the wings of a demon and wondered how Beelzebub could survive the full might of the Lord; then, as the light pulsed and faded little by little, he realized that was not it. The wings were not the pure white of angels, but neither were they midnight black. Deep brown with a golden sheen, mottled with darker brown, black, specks of white. The wings of an eagle.

And they did not belong to Beelzebub.

One last crackle of pure energy, and the pulsing light dissolved. Aziraphale worked his jaw a moment, mouth dry, before he finally called out.

“... Gabriel?”

The wings shifted, and slowly parted. Gabriel was kneeling on the pavement, eyes blinking open as though he struggled to comprehend what was happening. In his arms, held tightly against his chest, was the Prince of Hell; their eyes were screwed shut as though they were waiting to be smited still, but they were in one piece - shielded from the full might of God by the Archangel Gabriel himself, who seemed to be just now beginning to process precisely what had transpired.

“What…?” he muttered, and the sound of his voice caused Beelzebub’s eyes to snap open. They pulled back from his chest, on their knees themselves, and looked up at Gabriel - and at the wings spread behind him. They opened their mouth to say something, closed it, opened it again.

“You have wings again,” they finally said. “But they don’t look like--”

Gabriel didn’t so much turn to look at them. “You are all right,” he muttered, and cupped their cheek with a long breath, smiling widely. “Thank-- whoever there is to thank, you’re--”

Beelzebub’s hand grasped the collar of Gabriel’s shirt before he could say another word, and yanked his head down in a sudden kiss. It was definitely not something Aziraphale had expected to happen and neither had Gabriel, by the looks of it, but he seemed… far from displeased. Actually he leaned into it rather enthusiastically, arms slipping around the Lord of the Flies’ waist.

Aziraphale stepped back, feeling just a touch awkward.

“Angel, is it safe to look or no--” Crowley finally spoke up, and turned without waiting for an answer. A rather unwise move, that. His gaze fell on the scene before him, and he let out a groan. “Uuuugh! No it’s not safe, not it’s not, for Satan’s sake it’s seared in my brain now, why didn’t you warn...”

He turned again and took a few steps away, rubbing his eyes beneath the glasses. Warlock, on the other hand, remained exactly where he was - eyes shifting slowly between Gabriel’s brand new wings and Aziraphale’s own, still in full display.

“... Brother Francis, I don’t mean to be rude or anything,” he finally said. “But what, pray tell, the fuck.”

“Well…” Aziraphale hesitated a moment, knowing he couldn’t count on Crowley stepping in for an explanation for at least another ten minutes, busy as he was trying to jab his eyes out of their sockets. In the end, he said nothing and turned to survey the scene.

Time stood still and so did every single living being in sight, including the man who had wielded the knife, a horrified expression frozen on his face. Gabriel and Beelzebub didn’t seem to plan on letting their mouths part ways anytime soon, still on the very spot where Gabriel had nearly bled out to death minutes earlier. A few steps away, in the middle of the road, was Aziraphale’s antique pornography book.

With a sigh, Aziraphale went to pick it up and tucked it under his arm, making sure to hide the cover from Warlock’s sight.

“I believe,” he finally spoke, “that we all could use a nice cup of tea right about now.”

***

"But those who hope in the Lord shall renew their strength. They shall soar on wings like eagles; they shall run and not grow weary, they shall walk and not be faint." -- Isaiah 40:31

***

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#good omens #ineffable beurocracy #ineffable husbands #archangel gabriel #beelzebub #crowley #aziraphale #warlock dowling #winging it

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ourwrittenstories-arch · 3 years

Text

○○Blog info~~

Info on my rules and muses for mobile under the read more

Side blog to @somexofusxarexhuman < Canon Stiles RP

Please remember this is an RP blog and not an Art blog, to see my art follow me here on twitter >>> ***CLICK***

My open starters > CLICK <

Anyone can reply, please don't let reblog amount scare you!

Rules::

Rule one

Please be patient with me. I’m either stupid fast at replying or I take a few days. If it seems I’ve forgotten you, though, send me an IM

Rule Two

That being said I will reply when I feel like. I will always tell you if I need to drop a thread, if I take long it doesn’t mean I’ve dropped it. If you need to drop it because I’m taking too long, let me know. I promise not to be mad.

Rule Three

I will not RP with anyone under the age of 18, even if the thread has no smut. I’m sorry, but no. This is an adult oriented blog. Heavy themes, along with smut, will be regularly posted in rp formal and/or in images.

Rule Four

I will not RP with anime/cartoon/game FC’s (There are exceptions like RE8 chars). I will also not RP with any deceased FC’s

Rule Five

As awesome as it would be to be bilingual, I only speak and know English. Anything you see me post that is not English was brought to you by Google Translate.

Rule Six

I do not have a verse page, but that doesn’t mean I’m not open to AU’s. I LOVE AU’s. I’m a multi-ship multi-post blog and am trash for any and all AU’s. Just ask!

Rule Seven

I can write a lot in my replies (And a lot of it can be unnecessary detail) but don't feel pressured to match my length! Just, please, try to give me something more than two sentences to work with. I don't typically enjoy writing short replies, but I understand muses can be fickle things.

Rule Eight

I don't enjoy pregnancy threads or writing children so I, typically, will steer clear of those types of threads. If our muses have been in a long relationship (and we have been writing partners for a while as well) I may make an exception, but don't come in expecting babies. My girls all have IUD's unless stated otherwise. That being said I am 100% down with the breeding kink.

Rule Nine

If a muse has (unknown) somewhere in their age it means they are old old. Like 100+, so age can be changed if you are uncomfortable with age gap.

Rule Ten

I have a handful of chronic issues that effect my sleep and my mood so I'm up all hours of the day. I live in EST time zone, but I'm often up at 4AM so.....it's a gamble lol!

Rule Eleven

I have SEVERE ANXIETY and struggle messaging new people. IF I FOLLOWED YOU I WANT TO RP WITH YOU! I'm probably just figuring out how to message you without puking lol. I would appreciate the help, if you want, or you can wait until I gather the enrve.

Rule Twelve

My grammar isn't the best in the galaxy, ok? I over use comma's and never really figured out the semi-colon. If something is horribly wrong or you can't understand what I've written, just ask please.

Rule Thirteen

I will tag major triggers (ie; Snakes, Spiders etc) but I won't tag smut or NSFW unless it really needs it.

Rule Fourteen

If I have ever posted a meme please feel free to send one in even if it was a year ago! With that in mind, I do prefer introduction threads with new muns/characters if I am not familiar with them.

Rule Fifteen

Don't like my starters

Rule Sixteen

Don't God-Mod blah blah and Follow TOS k I love you <3 <3

Muses:

Girls:

Inessa Morea

Nicknames: Nessy, Nessa, Ness Age: Unknwon (25) DoB: May 11th Pronouns: She/Her Species: Nymph (Forest) Sexual Orientation: Bi-Curious Position: Sub (Potentially verse) Romantic Orientation: Demiromantic Hometown: New York Occupation: Flourist Personality: Sweet, Curious, Oblivious, Playful, Innocent, Devious Face Claim: Candice King ○

Cassia Poole-

Nicknames: Cass, Cassy Age: Unknown (19-24) DoB: November 3rd Pronouns: She/Her Species: Nymph (Water(mermaid)) Sexual Orientation: Bisexual Position: Sub Romantic Orientation: Demiromantic Hometown: New York Occupation: Student (Robotics and Marine bio-tech)/ Swim coach Personality:Innocent, Nerdy, Hyperactive, Bratty, Playful, Lame Face Claim: Jane Levy ○

Amara Nyx

Nicknames: Marr Age: Unknown (32) DoB: Oct 13th Pronouns: She/Her Species: Nymph (Underworld) Sexual Orientation: Pansexual Position: Versatile Romantic Orientation: Demiromantic Hometown: New York Occupation: None/ Sugar baby Personality: Smart ass, Rude, Bitchy, Judgmental, Hateful, Possessive, Affectionate Face Claim: Elizabeth Gillies ○

Laleh Narvaez

Nicknames: Lala Age: 25(600) DoB: Sept 4th Pronouns: She/Her Species:Lamia/Naga Sexual Orientation: Pansexual Position: Versatile Romantic Orientation: Demiromantic Hometown: Argentina Occupation: Dancer/Jack of all Trades for Freak Show/Snake Charmer(Circus) Personality:Sharp, Sultry, Flirtatious, Seductive, Venomous Face Claim: Eiza Gonzalez ○

Samira Eve

Nickname: Sam, Sammy, Mira Age: (Unknown) 20-23 DoB: June 2nd Pronouns: She/Her Species: Air Nymph Sexual Orientation: Pansexual Position: Verse Romantic Orientation: Panromantic Hometown: Boston Occupation: Thief/Courier Personality: Sarcastic, Smooth, Sassy, Flighty, Unreliable, Persuasive, troublemaker FC: Elisha Applebaum

○

Maybelline New-York

Nicknames: May Age: 28 DoB:Sep 17 Pronouns: She/Her Species: Zombie Sexual Orientation: Bisexual Position: Sub Romantic Orientation: Demiromantic Hometown: New Orleans Occupation: None Personality: Shy, Angry, Mute, Hungry, Sassy" Bio: Maybelline has no memory of her life before she had been murdered at the age of 23. Hell, she's not even certain that's her age. Her name came from reading a magazine ad when asked who she was after walking into morgue. Zombies had been a small pest problem for a while now, usually obvious in their appearance and traits, but something inside of May kept her from fully succumbing to the sickness. All she felt was hunger and, after begging the mortician to, promptly sewed her mouth shut and clipped her nails. Now she speaks in sign or with a chalkboard she carries around to communicate. After weeks of study, it was discovered that Maybelline had a tumor that had taken over the majority of her brain, blocking the strain from traveling and taking her over. Face Claim: Camila Mendes ○

Juniper Lee

Nicknames: June, Junie Age:29 DoB: Feb 16th Pronouns: She/Her Species:Witch Sexual Orientation: Straight Position: Submissive Romantic Orientation: Straight Hometown: Seoul until 5 then Massachusetts Occupation:Herbalist/Illusionist Personality:Soft spoken, Kind, Intelligent, Playful, Self Concious, Delicate, unsure Face Claim: Jamie Chung ○

Barabelle Gunn

Nicknames: Belle, Belly, Bara Age:27 DoB: May 28th Pronouns: She/Her Species: Human Sexual Orientation: Straight Position: Versatile Romantic Orientation: Straight Hometown: Killin Scottland Occupation: Hunter (supernatural) / Mercenary Personality: Brash, Rude, Sarcastic, Bull Headed, Loyal, Protective Face Claim: Karen Gillan AU Verses- Resident Evil 8 Verse ○ Leora Brandr Nicknames: Leo Age: Unknown (26) DoB: Dec 21st Pronouns: She/Her Species: Nymph (Fire) Sexual Orientation: Pansexual Position: Versatile Romantic Orientation: Demiromantic Hometown: Queens Occupation: Pilot/ Glass Blower Personality: Gentle, Kind, Shy, Short-Fused, Fiery, Passionate Face Claim: Daisy Ridley

Boys:

Carlyle Abrams

Nicknames: Lyle Age:32 DoB: April 16th Pronouns: He/Him Species:Human Sexual Orientation: Straight Position: Top/Dominant Romantic Orientation: Straight Hometown: London Occupation: Private Investigator Personality: Charming,Calm, Kind, Playful, Posessive, Warm Face Claim: Adam Driver ○

Maxwell Ardeleane Nicknames: Max Age: Unknown (31) DoB: January 8th Pronouns: He/Him Species: Elder Vampire Sexual Orientation: Pansexual Position: Top/Dominant Romantic Orientation: Demiromantic Hometown: Bucharest Romania Occupation: Mob Boss Personality: Charming, Polite, Sarcastic,Dark, Cruel, Posessive." Face Claim: Tyler Hoechlin ○ Syrian Nyx

Nicknames: Syrian Age: Unknown(34) DoB: Oct 13th Pronouns: He/Him Species: Nymph (Underworld) (Alpha) Sexual Orientation: Bisexual Position: Top/Dominant Romantic Orientation: Demiromantic Hometown: New York Occupation: Bank CEO Personality:Charming, Egotistical, Posessive, Rude, Dark Humor Face Claim: Oliver Jackson-Cohen ○ Esben Hvit

Nicknames: Esben, Ben, Es Age: 27 DoB: Oct 20 Pronouns: He/Him Species: Were-Raven (Albino) Sexual Orientation: Bisexual Position: Vesatile Romantic Orientation: Biromantic Hometown:Seattle Occupation: Famous Writer(Penned under Raven White) Personality:Cocky, Quiet, Shy, Rude, Snarky, Intelligent Face Claim: Lucky Blue Smith ○

Carter Higgins

Nicknames: Carter, Car Age: 24 DoB: June 12 Pronouns: He/Him Species: Human Sexual Orientation: Bisexual Position: Vesatile Romantic Orientation: Biromantic Hometown: Nashville Tenn Occupation: Street/Bar Musician Personality:Sweet, Friendly, Romantic, Goofy, Playful Face Claim: Cody Christian

----

Canon characters:

Peter Hale: Teen Wolf

Chris Argent: Teen Wolf

Tags:

#selfie;(name) - Photo’s of characters

(name)Starter- Starter for specific character

#wanted opposite - Wanted partner or character to rp with

more TBA

#Muses #Rules;;#1x1 rp #indie rp #smut rp #18+rp #independent rp #oc rp #canon rp #looking for partners #self promo #psa #mun things #discord friendly

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moldisgoodforyou · 4 years

Text

give a little: chapter two (jj maybank x oc)

MASTERLIST

pairing: jj maybank x oc

synopsis: charlotte “charlie” walker is a rising senior at the university of south carolina, an exercise science major, a kappa, and is back in the outer banks for the summer. she’s stubborn as hell, isn’t rich enough to be a kook or poor enough to be a pogue, and is used to being in the background. she and jj both go to USC, her sorority and his frat (beta) running in the same social circles but the two rarely speak at school. things change when they run into each other at the boneyard in the summer.

warnings: drinking, swearing, mentions of sex, all characters are 21+

mainly filler!

wordcount: 2.6k

_______________________________________________________________________

JJ nodded. “Alright, good night Charlie. I’ll see you around.” He leaned in slightly, like he was about to kiss her, then changed his mind at the last second.

She realized her eyes had almost fluttered shut in anticipation, then shook her head, taking a large step away from him. “See you around, JJ,” she replied over her shoulder before going inside.

She shut the door behind her and leaned up against it, smiling to herself. Maybe JJ Maybank wasn’t all that bad.

JJ had walked all the way home that night with a dopey smile on his face. It took him 45 minutes to get back to his side of the island, but he decided it was worth it to get Charlie home safe. The next morning, he woke up early and was at the kitchen table of the Chateau, scrolling through his phone like a madman. John B ambled out from his bedroom, confused at why JJ was already up. “Dude, you just disappeared last night. Did you hook up with Charlotte?” He asked.

JJ shook his head, intent on whatever was on his phone screen. “No, of course not, and she prefers Charlie.”

“Okay…” John B took the seat across from him, intrigued by his friend’s strange demeanor. “What are you looking for?”

“Look, I didn’t get her number last night, and I found her Instagram but I don’t want to slide in her DMs and be all creepy. So I texted two girls in Kappa that would know her, but I kind of ghosted them after we hooked up so obviously no response there. I even thought about seeing if she’s on Facebook but no one is on Facebook anymore.”

John B just gaped at him in response.

“What?” JJ snapped, annoyed.

“I mean, it’s just...I’ve never seen you like this about a girl before,” John B laughed. “Did you even kiss her?”

JJ shook his head and ran his hand through his hair in distress. “Of course not, she was drunk.”

John B scoffed mockingly, shaking his head. “Like that’s ever stopped you before. Why are you so set on this girl?”

“Have you seen her? Plus, I want to prove I don’t have a reputation. We go to the same school, we might as well be friends,” JJ reasoned.

“Yeah. Okay. Friends is what you’re after,” John B replied, dubious, as Pope walked into the Chateau.

“Who wants to be friends?” He asked.

“JJ claims he just spent a good hour tracking down Charlotte on his phone just so they can be friends,” John B told Pope, shaking his head.

Pope had the same reaction as John B. “I haven’t heard that one before. Did you guys hook up?”

“Why does everyone assume that? And John B, I told you she goes by Charlie.” JJ replied, going back to his phone.

“Such a simp.” John B punched JJ’s arm lightly.

“You’re one to talk, have you seen yourself with Sarah?” JJ snapped, shoving John B back.

Pope laughed. “You’re both simps, but JJ, you know her family’s ice cream shop is right next to the Wreck, right? Why don’t you just go find her there?”

“Oh my god, Pope, that’s the best idea you’ve had in centuries! Let’s go.” JJ practically jumped out of his seat, before Pope clapped him on the shoulder to stop him.

“You think the shop is gonna be open at 9 am?”

JJ slumped back down in the chair with a groan.

_______________________________________________________________________

Later that next morning, Charlie woke to a couple texts from Grace after she had confirmed she got home safe.

Grace: so JJ Maybank took you all the way home and you didn’t even kiss

Grace: like, THE LIST JJ Maybank

Charlie laughed, reading the texts and shot off a quick reply.

Charlie: nothing happened, like I told you. he’s not into me like that at all

Grace: i just don’t want u to get hurt like u did with rafe

Charlie: that feels like so long ago, I’m not gonna let that happen again

Grace: i mean it was only 5 months ago, i’m looking out for u ok

Grace: and remember this is JJ we’re talking about here, of all people

Charlie: I know. talk to you later

After getting ready for the day and pulling on her uniform, Charlie sighed before looking over her slightly-hungover appearance in the mirror. “Another day, another dollar.” She yelled goodbye to her parents, slipping out the door before they could berate her again for not staying in to watch her brother - even though he was eleven and definitely old enough to be at home alone. Unluckily for Charlie, her little brother Jamie was also old enough to notice her sneaking out and waited up to tell their parents the second they came home from date night.

Charlie got in her car and inhaled deeply once she realized she could still smell JJ in the fabric of her front seat. After a moment, she caught herself. “Get a grip, Charlie,” she muttered to herself, then drove to work.

She prepared the shop and just as she was unlocking the front door to open it to the public, Kiara walked out from the Wreck.

“Hey, Charlie! I didn’t know you were back for the summer.” She greeted her warmly, waving to catch her attention.

They had been friends in high school, nothing close, but close enough for her to know that she wouldn’t be caught dead being called Charlotte. The two had drifted apart once they went to separate schools, Charlie at the University of South Carolina for exercise science and Kiara at the University of North Carolina Wilmington for marine biology, but they kept in touch through social media.

“Kiara, hey! Yeah, just working with the family business, you know how that goes. Um, sorry we didn’t really talk last night, JJ was -”

“JJ was being annoying, I know.” Kiara interrupted, laughing. “Trust me, you don’t need to explain about him. He got you home safe though?”

“Yeah, definitely. Just drove me home. It was nice.” Charlie smiled.

“Is the list you were talking about real?” Kiara asked. “I hope not, I mean I knew JJ was bad in high school and he doesn’t really date, but he doesn’t seem to really brag about girls when we hang out.”

Charlie gave a slight grimace, nodding. “It’s real. It started as a joke, honestly, but then it turned out to be pretty helpful to know who to avoid. But yeah, JJ’s not at the top just for kicks.”

“Oh my god, you’d think with all the lectures I gave him and Ted talks I sent him he would know better. I love the guy, but I know how he works.” Kiara shook her head and gave her an apologetic smile on his behalf.

Charlie shrugged. “I think he just flirts too much and doesn’t realize how quickly girls fall for it. I don’t know. Hey, I have to open, but I’ll see you around? We should catch up.”

Kiara smiled. “Definitely. I’ll text you. Bye, Charlie,” she nodded as she left.

Charlie returned to behind the counter, servicing a handful of families over the lunch rush until the customers died off around 2pm. The A/C hardly worked in the shop and all the spare fans were pointed toward the ice cream, refrigeration cranked up high, but Charlie was still a sweaty mess. After not having customers for a good half hour, she pulled off her apron and stood in the back, then peeled off her shirt for good measure, wearing her bikini top underneath. She sighed in relief as the cool air hit her skin, leaning against the wall. Her relief was short-lived and she jumped when she heard the bell of the door opening, peeking around the corner. “Fuck,” she muttered, grabbing her shirt again.

JJ, John B and Pope walked in and John B glanced around. “See, she’s not even here -”

Charlie quickly pulled her shirt back over her head as she walked out, JJ doing a double take at the sight of her dressing.

Pope elbowed John B to get him to shut up and smiled pleasantly at Charlie. “Hi Charlott - uh, Charlie, nice to see you again! I didn’t know you worked here.”

She smiled at his fumbling of her name. “Hi Pope. Yeah, um, Walker Ice Creams, my family runs the business. I’m just working here while I’m home for the summer.”

“Very cool.” Pope nodded, then stepped on JJ’s foot out of view.

JJ yelped before Pope shot a glare at him. “Hi Charlie!” JJ greeted, a little too brightly.

She quirked an eyebrow at his demeanor. “You okay?”

“Yeah, are you okay?” He replied, trying to flirt and failing miserably.

John B gave JJ a look and mouthed “what the fuck are you doing” to him before turning to Charlie. “Excuse this dumbass. Can I have a cone of mint chocolate chip please?”

“And I’ll take a cup of the cookies and cream,” Pope chimed in, trying to cover for JJ’s weirdness. JJ scanned over all the flavors, watching as Charlie scooped for the two of them.

“Do you want anything, Maybank?” She questioned, and it was like a light had flickered on in his brain at the sound of the nickname.

“What’s your favorite flavor?” He asked.

“The chocolate fudge brownie. I have a big sweet tooth though, so it might be too much,” she shrugged.

“I’ll take a cone of that, please. I love chocolate. And, uh…” he paused, before feeling his wallet in his back pocket. “I’ll pay for all of us.”

John B and Pope whipped their heads over in surprise. “It’s okay, JJ, we can pay for our own -” Pope offered before JJ cut him off.

“Nope, I got it! My treat. You’re welcome,” JJ responded, talking through gritted teeth with the last words.

Charlie rang them up after handing out their ice creams. “Thanks again for taking me home last night. I obviously hadn’t planned on being too drunk to drive, so...”

JJ waved his hand in dismissal. “It’s no problem, I just wanted to be sure you were home safe. Are you coming to the next Boneyard party?”

“You guys already have another one planned? When is it?” Charlie asked and JJ panicked, looking over at John B and Pope for assistance.

“Uh, this Friday?” John B said questioningly.

“Yeah, exactly, this Friday. You should come.” JJ grinned.

“Yeah, maybe.” She responded, seeming uninterested.

JJ frowned a little at her lack of enthusiasm. “Right, well, I’ll see you around then.”

The three of them walked out and immediately started arguing out of Charlie’s earshot once they got outside. Charlie didn’t notice, cleaning up, til Pope came back in a moment later with a crumpled up napkin in his fist. “I think you dropped this,” he said as he set it on the counter then walked back out. Charlie waited for the boys to walk away before opening it, seeing “JJ - 252-630-8416” scrawled on it in Pope’s neat handwriting. She smiled to herself and shook her head, then pocketed the napkin.

_______________________________________________________________________

Later that day, the Pogues were all out on the water, hanging out. John B and Pope were eagerly retelling the story of the ice cream shop to Kie, JJ interjecting multiple times with lies of different lines he had “flirted” with. “And after all that, he still chickened out and didn’t get her number.” John B finished the story dramatically.

“Don’t worry, JJ, I saved your awkward conversation.” Pope claimed proudly, crossing his arms.

JJ gave him a wary look. “What did you do?”

Pope grinned. “When I told you guys I went back because I left my keys in there, I actually gave her a napkin with your number on it. You’re welcome.”

JJ immediately responded by punching him in the arm, Pope groaning. “What the hell, Pope! Now I look desperate!”

Kiara tilted her head, confused. “You know, I saw her earlier when she opened the shop. I have her number, you could have just asked for it.”

JJ practically jumped out of his seat to grab Kiara’s phone. “You could have spared me all that! Holy hell, Kie, give it to me.”

She frowned, holding her phone out of his reach. “No. You should only have it if she wants you to have it.”

JJ sat down with a defeated sigh, knowing not to push her or he’d earn another lecture about feminism from Kiara. He slumped in his chair dramatically. “I’m never gonna talk to her at this rate.”

_______________________________________________________________________

After her shift, Charlie went over to Grace’s house to wind down for the night. Grace greeted her at the door and immediately lifted her friend’s hair off her neck.

Charlie ducked out of her grip, walking in the house. “Hey! What are you doing?”

Grace smirked and crossed her arms. “Checking for hickies.”

Charlie blushed slightly and groaned. “Grace, I swear to god, nothing happened!”

Grace laughed. “Just being sure! I can’t blame him if something did, he’d be stupid not to make a move on you.”

“It’s not like that,” Charlie shook her head. “If he was ever vaguely interested, he would have said something at one of our Kappa mixers.”

Grace poured them both a glass of wine and flopped onto the couch with her. “Would you have considered it? If he did make a move?”

Charlie ran the tip of her finger around the wine glass, avoiding her friend’s inquisitive gaze. “Um. I don’t know. He’s probably bad news.”

Grace nodded. “Exactly. I mean, he’s hot, but at what cost? Just find a Touron at a Boneyard party. It’s been more than enough time though, you need to get laid.”

Charlie sputtered, choking on her sip of wine. “Grace!”

Her friend just rolled her eyes and handed her a napkin. “Think about it. You broke it off with Rafe three whole months ago and you’ve only been on one date since. And you lied and told me you hooked up with that Beta just to get me off your back. It’s not like you don’t have any options either, you practically rejected half the soccer team -”

Charlie blushed. “Okay, okay, Grace, I get your point. I just don’t know if I’m ready. I mean, the way we ended things wasn’t -”

“No.” Grace interrupted. “You broke it off with him, it wasn’t a we decision, because he’s a lying, cheating bastard. You didn’t deserve any of that. What you do deserve is a good old-fashioned dick appointment. Just not with JJ Maybank.”

Charlie laughed in spite of herself. “He and John B and Pope came into the ice cream shop today. They said there’s a party Friday, I guess we could go?” She offered halfheartedly, fishing the napkin with JJ’s number on it out of her pocket.

“What is that?” Grace raised her eyebrows.

“Um, JJ’s number, Pope passed it on,” Charlie shrugged. “I’m probably not gonna do anything with it but I thought I’d keep it just in case.”

Grace reached over and plucked it out of her hands, promptly ripping it into pieces despite Charlie’s feeble protest. “We went over this, I told you that boy’s no good for you. Will you let me do your makeup and pick out an outfit?”

“Why’d you have to - ugh, yeah, sure. Whatever makes you happy,” she teased.

Grace clapped together her hands in excitement. “We’re gonna get you laaaiddd!” She sang, making Charlie blush again and whine in response.

“I hate you.”

Grace laughed. “No you don’t. You love me.”

tags: @booksandshish @jiaraendgame

#outer banks #jj maybank obx #obx fanfiction #obx x reader #college!obx #obx fanfic #jj outer banks #outer banks fanfic #outer banks fanfiction #college outer banks #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank #jj maybank x female reader #jj x reader #mine #jj x charlie

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syms-things-5 · 4 years

Text

Clear The Area - Chapter Seventeen

Previous Chapter Here

Warnings: Strong language and an air of discomfort.

Notes: I hope this reads OK as it’s quite dialogue-heavy.

Tags: @kelbabyblue @jennmurawski13

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The night shifts weren’t all bad. From time to time, they were even as good as “pretty straight forward”. They proved especially useful when trying to finish patient notes and random admin that always got left to the very end of the shift. Perhaps they’d endure a tidy-out of the stock cupboards if the crew was feeling generous. Since O’Brien had taken up his post at the hospital years earlier, he had insisted upon mandatory training updates for the ER units every three to four months (the national average was about once a year) so the team were regularly reminded not to set fire to their computers and not to leave boxes in places people could trip over. You’d be surprised how often both those things happened in an emerging crisis.

“I swear he thinks we’re idiots half the time.” Complained Jack, his head now glued to the palm of his hand. Jack was hurtling towards an early retirement thanks to an ever-increasing distrust of the corporate environment ER departments found themselves in. We trained to save lives, he’d say, not file stat reports. He was so right, it hurt.

The crew was sat round the reception desk. The ER was empty except for a local homeless man the team allowed in from time to time to sleep off his latest drunken adventures.

“Who doesn’t know how to bend their knees when lifting something heavy?” Jack asked again.

“Ryan for one.” Sarah joked, pointing her cold cup of tea towards the fellow nurse in question. Ryan was a tall and skinny guy, not dissimilar to Alexander Skarsgard in the right light but with less charm although he had left a few of the interns swooning of late. Shanna quite liked him, too.

“One time, Sarah. One time and I suffered for it greatly.” Ryan remarked, spinning a full 360 in his swivel chair. “Did you tick ‘agree’ or ‘strongly agree’ for question eleven?”

“Oh, if you don’t tick ‘strongly agree’ even if you only ‘agree’, they mark you down a couple of percentage points.” Entered Audrey, slamming down a pile of files on the desk beside Sarah. Their nightly routine just got more interesting. “Just get it over with. It’s not worth the effort. It’s just O’Brien being obsessed with stats again. He turns everything into a competition. I swear it’s unhealthy.”

Ryan looked momentarily confused before returning to face his computer screen. He re-read the question for the fifth time and rubbed his eyes in resignation. Something about 3am made this far too complicated.

“When did you even find time to do this, Aud?” Jack asked, turning back to Sarah and Audrey in time to witness their shared look self-satisfaction. “I’ve been sat here for half an hour and am still only part way through the first section.”

“I logged in at home earlier.” she responded before catching Sarah’s quizzical look. “Well, Michael did most of it for me.”

“Fucking hell!” exclaimed Jack, chucking his pen on the table, giving up. “Got no chance then, have I? Michael’s a bloody genius. Hey, how much for him to do mine?”

“Normally I’d say $100 but he’s pretty cheap these days.” shrugged Audrey. “Probably a fancy cigar would do.”

“He still grumpy about the you-know-what?” whispered Sarah to her friend when the guys started joshing between themselves.

Audrey leaned back on the desk beside her and took the mug from Sarah’s hands to take a sip, grimacing slightly at the sweetness. For some reason, Sarah had to have at least three sugars in her tea if she was drinking it post-midnight. It helped to keep her more alert apparently. She didn’t drink it like that at any other time of the day. “No more than usual. Seems like we’re both unlucky in that department at the moment.”

Sarah smiled at her in acknowledgement, lips thin before biting the inside of her cheek.

Following their last meet-up, Chris had been decidedly quiet. Too quiet almost. It was weird. He hadn’t messaged her. He hadn’t called or visited their apartment except to collect a parcel he had left. Sarah has been out for a run at the time and had felt silently glad to have missed him. He hadn’t updated his twitter and there had been multiple sports events occurring that would have guaranteed a humblebrag or five. Shanna had pledged to buy rib-eye steaks for a Saturday night meal during a Celtics game and he had cancelled at the last minute citing an interview he had conveniently forgotten. Even Audrey thought it was weird. If anything was guaranteed to get his attention and bring him out of whatever funk he was in, it was the promise of sports and a ‘Grade A’ barbeque.

Shanna merely put it down to his laziness or him having something better turn up. Scott had started replacing Chris around their apartment, wanting to get some of his own distance from the tricky Zach situation and it helped her feel better knowing he was at least in touch with him if Shanna wasn’t. He was evidently still alive.

Sarah decided to swap a couple of daytime stints to partner up with Audrey for the nights. She needed the comfort of working with a good friend to calm her down from whatever ledge her anxiety had placed her on.

“You know that he’ll come back, right?” Audrey interrupted her thoughts. Maybe Sarah spoke too soon. “Haven’t you got that birthday thing for Lisa coming up?”

That trip was a couple of weeks away yet. She was trying to bank some reasonable excuses but everything sounded lame in the cold light of day and Lisa was never going to accept her not coming as well. Surely things would have smoothed themselves out by then?

“This won’t just fix itself, hun, you’ll need to speak to him eventually. And the sooner the better.”

It was like Audrey had a hotline straight into Sarah’s psyche. It was unnerving at the best of times. Sarah knew she was right of course. It’s just, a little bit of distance would be a good thing, right? Even Chris himself had offered that advice from time to time, and stressing herself out at this point almost seemed counterintuitive.

“I reckon you could go in an hour or so if you wanted.” Audrey offered, nudging her friend with her elbow to bring her back into the room. “It’s dead out there.”

“I hope not.” Sarah joked, trying to lighten the mood. “We’d be shit at our jobs if that was the case.”

Audrey laughed for the first time since Sarah could remember that day. It was moments like this that reminded her of why she enjoyed working alongside her so much, and why she didn’t mind if it resulted in overtime.

“You wanna take patient referrals while I take the EPRs?”

“How can I refuse an offer like that?” Sarah picked up the dozen or so documents sat in front of her and grabbed the nearest chair. Audrey told her she’d put the kettle on and nudged the guys still glued to their screens. Ryan had pretty much given up logical thinking and was now ticking random boxes. Jack was cursing under his breath. O’Brien was going to be in for a real treat when he could finally tabulate the responses.

It was nearing 6.20am when Sarah and Audrey finally packed up to go. Matt and Stephanie had just arrived to take over for the morning, bringing a fresh perspective for the day. There wasn’t much for them to catch up on so it should be a smooth few hours at least. Sarah even ran a mop through the staff locker room as an added gift – Steph was a notorious clean freak – nearly tripping Greg up in the process.

He’d been on leave for the past fortnight and his hair was a little longer than she remembered. A five o’clock shadow graced the lower part of his face and it suited him more than she thought it would. He had kept up with the informal tie-less attire and he seemed to be, dare she it, enjoying himself.

“God, I’m so sorry.” She held her hands up in a mock mea culpa. “I was just gonna put it away before heading out. It was a stupid place to leave it.”

“Did you not take the Health and Safety refresher?” he joked, rebalancing himself and trying to play down the redness creeping into his cheeks from the embarrassment of temporarily losing his footing in front of her.

“You gonna rat me out to O’Brien? ‘Cos you know as well as I do that he doesn’t need yet another reason to know he’s right.” She shifted the mop and bucket and placed them back in the supply closet before reaching for her bag again.

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” He moved passed her before turning to face her again. “Tell you the truth, I ghosted the last couple of tabs myself. Who knew there were so many ways to ask questions about standing in elevators?”

Sarah rolled her eyes in acknowledgement. “Yeh. I can’t wait to have the team meeting when he realises we’ve all pretty much done the same thing. That’s gonna be fun. I might finally take some of my holiday.”

“Yeh, good plan. Hey listen,” His words stopped her in her tracks, feet from the exit. “Um, I know it’s been a while but I was wondering if you might want to reschedule that tennis match some time? Or if not, we could get some dinner or something? There’s that new sushi place on Reagan Street. It’s meant to be really good if you fancy it?”

She was indeed familiar with that very restaurant thanks to the glowing reviews she had been unable to avoid since it opened. Audrey had only mentioned it a mere thousand times in her presence. Word was that bookings were now months in advance so she wasn’t sure how Greg was hoping to find a table unless he wanted to make plans with her in November. Given the number of commitments he always appeared to have going on, it wouldn’t be completely outside the realm of possibility.

“Wow, I thought that place was fully booked?”

“Yeh, it is, but I went to college with one of the investors and he’s promised me a one-off.”

Of course he did. Sarah bit her bottom lip to stop herself from chuckling out loud, imagining Audrey’s face when she would inevitably find out. To be honest, she was genuinely surprised he was still showing a minor interest in her. When she finally made eye contact with him, his earnestness was practically shining. Had he always had perfect skin?

“Um…” That was a good start, she thought.

“Honestly, it’s not a big deal if you’d rather not.” He helpfully pre-empted her awkward rejection but she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. “I’ve been meaning to go is all and I knew you liked sushi and figured it might be fun? They have live Jazz on Sunday nights.”

When did he find out she liked sushi? And live Jazz? Just how much had Audrey told him about her?

Realising she probably looked perplexed, she shuffled her shoulder strap back up onto her shoulder and tried to relax the awkwardness setting in between them. It was still quiet and no one was within earshot that she could figure out of her peripheral vision.

“It’s not you, Greg, I promise. It’s just, I’m not really looking to get into anything right now. With anyone. Plus, we work together and…I’m sorry. I hope that’s OK?”

“Hey, look, I promise it won’t be awkward. There’s absolutely no expectations from me and if you change your mind, just let me know, yeh? I literally know no one else who likes Sashimi so I can’t waste my only chance to get a table.” He chuckled and she felt more at ease.

“If it’s any consolation, I’m a pretty crap date.” She smiled at him as she edged herself down the hall, putting space between them both literally and figuratively. “You wouldn’t be missing out.”

“Oh, I doubt that somehow.” He returned her smile. “I’m serious, though. Just let me know. Anytime. No expiration date.”

And with that, she had been left dumbfounded by two men in the space of a single week.

It would have been easier to get the early morning bus home at this time, as tired as she was starting to feel. She hadn’t slept well in the last few days and she had a creeping nausea from the lack of proper rest. The walk and crisp, fresh air might do her some good. It was practically full daylight even at this hour, and it was sometimes fun to watch people on their own way to work, huffing along, trying not to drop their coffees.

The out-of-town school bus passed her a few minutes out from her apartment and as she rounded the corner, she got this weird sense that someone was watching her. Another corner turned and she could see her building in the near distance. Still, she couldn’t shake it. She stopped, pretending to fumble for her phone in her pocket and turned around swiftly to see a sweaty Chris stop a few steps behind her.

It took her a moment to register it was in fact him, his beard fuller and a Red Sox cap pulled down low over his eyes. He had sweats and sneakers on and looked like he was on a run. Honestly, if someone else had spotted him from this distance, they would have worried he was going to attack her.

“Hey,” she said, turning to fully face him. “What are you doing out at this time?”

He didn’t respond at first. He shuffled from one foot to the other before grounding himself and taking a couple of steps towards her. Again, he shuffled back a step like he was rethinking his move. She didn’t appreciate seeing him like this, so unsure of himself.

“Five months out from filming some pre-shoots so figured I’d make a start.” He finally spoke. Not a really a smile but he at least sounded OK.

“Cool.” She said, nodding back at him. “Um, I’m not sure if Shanna is awake yet but do you want to come inside for some water or coffee?”

“Yeh, that’d be great. Thanks.”

She turned to continue walking on. For a few long moments, he stayed walking slightly behind her. A couple more strides and he had decided to catch up. The last time it had taken this long to walk this same street, she had been so drunk she had narrowly avoided falling into her neighbour’s front garden.

“Five months? You’re not that out of shape.” She tried to make a joke. It was the only thing she could think of. Audrey would be eye-rolling like a champ if she could see them now.

Chris knew she was trying to make small talk now so he decided to indulge her. It was a fair response, he thought - he was doing OK - as he followed her up the stairs deliberately keeping two or three behind her in an effort to keep it casual.

“Oh, y’know. I fluctuate pretty easily. A few pizzas here and there and it’s game over.”

They walked into her kitchen and she had been right in assuming Shanna was still asleep. Unless she had awoken really early but that was highly unlikely, unless there was a sale at Ted Baker she didn’t know about.

He lingered in the doorway while she searched the fridge for a bottle of water. Grabbing one from the back, she turned to hand it to him expecting him to be within an arm’s reach from her but he had been distracted by something down the hall before turning back to her. Gratefully, he accepted it and walked into the kitchen to take up his usual spot leaning against the counter.

“Sorry, did you say you wanted a coffee?” She offered.

“Nah, I’m good. Can’t really take caffeine until this afternoon.”

“Sorry. I always forget how strict it is.” She apologised, offering him a sympathetic smile.

He took a long swig from the bottle, not breaking eye contact from her. “No need to apologise. You OK? Night shift?”

“Yeh. Pretty quiet, thankfully.”

“I’ve always meant to ask but what is it like, a night shift? I can’t work out if it would be worse or not.”

She understood what he meant and laughed. “It can go either way to be honest but it’s been quiet the last few nights. Nothing crazy. I caught up with some paperwork, so…” She shrugged again, acutely aware of how boring she must sound.

He nodded at her. “Aren’t people supposed to be crazier in the summertime?”

“Well, kids are around more and families tend to spend more time together, so…”

The apartment was unnervingly quiet now which was weird. She could hear the uptake in traffic outside which provided some relief that perhaps he couldn’t hear her heart beating out of her chest. She could make out some small sweat patches on his hoodie and it did something to her that she wasn’t expecting. Shaking the thought from her head, she turned to switch the kettle off.

“What?” He asked.

She jerked her head back around to face him. “Huh?”

“You were thinking of something. Your neck just went red.” He smiled, tilting his head at her and relishing the look of surprise making its way over her features, knowing he’d caught her out.

That was news to her. She knew she had “tells” but a red neck was not usually one of them. How come no one had ever told her about this?

“I can’t tell if you’re joking with me or not.” She inquired, playfully narrowing her eyes at him in an effort to lighten the mood.

He shrugged a shoulder at her, a smirk starting to cross his fine features. Joshing with her was good. She’d take that. A small step in the right direction.

“Sometimes, it’s really obvious. You get it when you’re embarrassed about something, or when you try to lie. I’d never really noticed it before, but...” He paused. His expression started to turn more thoughtful and she wished he’d just continue to make fun of her instead.

“Guess I won’t be playing poker anytime soon.” She finished the thought for him.

“Yeh, no, you’d be rubbish at that. Just terrible.” He took another swig from his bottle and waited for her to throw something at him.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

The room went quiet again. She stirred her mug of coffee and offered him another chance at one which he politely refused although his discipline was waning slightly now he could smell it.

“So this is fine.” He said after a couple of minutes, nodding in a slightly exaggerated manner. He looked out of the kitchen window. “We can do this, right? No awkwardness. No embarrassment. Just normal, everyday conversation.”

“’Course,” she nodded in agreement.

“Start as we mean to go on, right?”

She nodded again. This felt like a trap and she couldn’t put her finger on why. Chris had a knack for saying and doing two different things at the same time, an intimidating ability that often put people on edge if he thought it would serve his purpose, whatever that may be. Probably the actor in him. When you called him out, he would aggressively defend himself which only served to prove the point you were making in the first place.

Scott was the only one, truly, who knew when it was happening. It had taken Sarah years to get to a similar position but now, she wasn’t sure she was remotely close to it.

“It’s as good a starting point as any, I guess.” She shrugged again, sipping from her cup.

“So there’s no need to ignore me then.”

“I haven’t been ignoring you, have I?”

“You tell me. I’m just pre-empting it is all. I’m just saying we can still interact, you and me, if we need to. Like, it doesn’t always have to be in social settings with other people around.” He took a final drink from his bottle and turned to locate the recycling pot stashed away in the corner. Even with a mundane task, he always looked cool doing it.

“So don’t worry about it.”

“Alright then. That’s good to know.” She shot him a raised eyebrow which he caught and returned with a sly smirk. “I’m just trying to be sensible. We have to get this right or else there’s no point.”

“I know, I get that, too.” If he wasn’t attempting to be serious before, he was now. He had a hand on his hip and seemed to have grown a few inches in height. “What do you think I’m trying to say?”

“I…think I’m on the backfoot again and it’s weird.” She held a hand up in defence.

“Hey, I’m just doing what we agreed, OK? I’m just following your rules.”

“They’re not rules.” She struggled to regulate the volume in her voice in case she disturbed Shanna. “And you’re making it sound like I’m controlling the situation when I’m not. We both agreed on this. There’s no point being difficult about it.”

Was he being difficult? Yes. Obviously, he was. He wasn’t happy. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling but happy definitely wasn’t it. Things were out of sorts and he hadn’t been able to eat carbs or sugar for four days so the withdrawal symptoms certainly weren’t helping. He should go easier on her. She was doing the thinking for the both of them. He should learn to be more grateful for that.

He scratched the back of his head and let out an audible sigh in frustration. “I’ll try harder, I promise. We’ve got that cabin thing coming up with Mom, so…I promise I’ll be good.”

He imitated the scout salute and she smiled at him, a smile not quite reaching her eyes.

Another night shift and Audrey and was starting to get suspicious. No one willingly switched for a night shift. For one thing, there was a disproportionate amount of recovery time. A couple of night shifts often took in excess of a week to recover from; a week that a nurse definitely did not have to spare.

“He been buggin’ you?” she asked, finally growing tired of the silence.

“Who?” Sarah looked up from the cabinet. “No, not really. We haven’t really spoken.”

“So why are you ignoring him?”

“I’m not ignoring him! Why does everyone think that?”

“Who’s everyone?”

Crap. Audrey had her there. Sarah open and closed her mouth without a sound coming out. She took a breath. “He’s not bugging me. He’s not. I’m just trying to limit the times we’re in the same place at the same time.”

“Huh, you’d think he would at least allow you to have peace in your own home.”

“Well, to be fair, he hasn’t been around all that much, but…at least I don’t have to worry about him showing up unannounced. It’s stupid but I feel way more awkward about him than I thought I would. It’s like I can’t even stand to be under his gaze.”

Audrey glanced at her friend, wishing she could offer some words of comfort. Even for someone as verbose as she normally was, she was finding it a struggle. Sarah wasn’t much looking for words of comfort at the given time either. She was all too aware of the predicament she was in and how much responsibility laid at her feet. In her mind, waiting it out was the only logical solution she could come up with. The only logical solution that didn’t require more conversations with someone who could feasibly run rings around her “theory” that if they just stayed apart for a little while, they would suddenly and magically forget about the past couple of months.

They stayed filing documents in silence again, the air seemingly getting thicker.

“You ever spoken with someone and it’s like they’re thinking the complete opposite of what’s coming out of their mouth?” Sarah huffed while shoving the cabinet drawer closed.

“Not really. That person’s usually me.”

“But why?” she asked. “Why can’t you just be normal?”

“I mean, it’s not my go-to response of course. It’s normally reserved for occasions when I am trying to indulge someone because I know they’re talking bullshit. Like, when I know Mike has been gambling but he tries to deny it? It’s just easier to figure him out that way.”

Sarah froze to the spot, looking at her friend. She breathed a heavy sigh and turned to lean back on the table behind her and crossed her arms. She stared at her shoes for a second.

“Chris is a smart guy. I’ll give him that.” Audrey muttered loudly so she was sure Sarah could hear.

“Give me something! I’m your friend here.” She implored her before chuckling to herself at Audrey’s face and her own apparent lack of self-awareness.

“You know what I think? You’ve probably got withdrawal symptoms from the all the amazing sex you’ve had and now you’re sulking. I think you should get back on that horse and let him fuck you again. That’s what this is.”

Sarah eyed her friend again. For once, she would love to hear someone tell her that she was right. “That’s really not helping, y’know.”

“And this is?!” Audrey’s shriller tone cut through the dry air, smacking Sarah right in the face. “Honey, this isn’t healthy. You hiding out in the hospital and treating it like your own solace is not healthy at all. I love you but you are your own worst enemy.”

“Alright, thank you. Thank you very much. Thank you for your unswerving efforts to be honest with me at all times and not, like a normal pal, be comforting in any way.” Sarah comically bowed to her friend before considering leaving the office. She would have followed through with the idea as well if it wasn’t for the cosy warmth of O’Brien’s office versus the coldness of the ER department thanks to a leaking pipe. “It’s difficult. I’m sorry. I don’t wanna fall out with you, Audrey.”

Audrey just smiled at her. “I don’t know why you think you have to be the beacon of morality all the time, Sarah. Take a look around. No one else is. We all out here just trying to live our lives as best we can and a part of that is taking advantage of moments of happiness when we find them.”

Something about what Audrey was saying did resonate with her but comparing two months of happiness with Chris to ten years with Shanna was not something she could in good conscience do. Shanna was her security blanket. She provided a comfort of living with someone with shared life experience, of knowing how little you thought about yourself because you were given up as a baby. Honestly, from the very first day they had met, Sarah felt lucky to know her.

Yes, Shanna could be immature at times. Maybe a little selfish. She would often get carried away with trivial things and wasn’t the most reliable person, but what Sarah got in return was worth that and more. Her family enjoyed highlighting the maternal care Sarah would have to provide to someone who was seven months older than she was, but honestly it didn’t matter.

Maybe this was one of the rare occasions where Audrey was wrong.

Chris was a fling at best, Sarah told herself, when she was lying in bed struggling to fall asleep. When she was cold and missing his arms around her. They were both having shitty times and they both got something out of it. That was what Chris had said himself at the very beginning.

Chris 08.15am: You home? Shanna said you were working late again

It was like he knew she would be thinking about him.

Chris 08.17am: I really dont want u ignoring me all the time. This is hard for me right now as well

Fuck.

Sarah 08.21am: I kno. I’m so sorry I made you feel like that :(

He didn’t respond. She thought she saw the tell-tale three dots of him writing something but nothing appeared. Giving up on sleep, she got up and headed into the kitchen. Shanna had left her some bacon in the fridge and a fresh bread bun on the side so she turned on the grill and set about making some coffee.

She felt strangely awake for this time and the apartment was nice and warm from the bright sunshine streaming in from all corners. Maybe a run would help. Or a cold shower.

Chris 08.44am: I wanna be honest with u but I dont think u want that

Chris 08.45am: so what do i do??

Fuck knows.

Chris 08.51am: Can I come over?

Sarah 08.54am: that’s not a good idea

Chris 08.55am: cos you know what will happen?

Chris 08.56am: what does that tell you??

She was sure he was nursing some kind of hangover or, quite possibly, he was still a little bit drunk. There were two responses she could give, she figured. The first would be her usual denial and perhaps an excuse that she was busy or working later than planned. The second, and ultimately the one she opted for, was to agree with him.

Sarah 09.05am: I know what it tells me. That’s why I’m saying you shouldn’t come over

Another three dots followed. There was only so many times they could go around and around in circles and as much as Audrey’s words made sense to her, it felt like she had to make the effort to regain some normality.

He didn’t respond. She stared at her phone for an age but nothing came through. Maybe he got the message? Maybe he had fallen asleep. She was both relieved and suspicious; Chris wasn’t someone who backed down from an argument when he thought he was right. He had said as much himself.

She turned the grill off, having lost her appetite. A run might make more sense and could help clear her head.

She couldn’t sit around waiting for Chris to make his next move.

#Chris evans #chris evans fic #evans fic #fanfiction #clear the area #sarah bernette #chris evans x original female character

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 4 years

Text

Becoming

Halloween is Bee’s favorite holiday and while for most people it’s focused on becoming something new, transforming into fantasies, it is for others about becoming who they really are.

Related to Silver Fox. Can be read alone. SingleDad!Cal+ Halloween + Cuteness.

Read Silver Fox Here.

Enjoy my masterlist.

Support me on Ko-Fi.

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

Anahera reads over the text several times, exits the text messaging app, reopens it and still shocks finds her when the text does not disappear. Halloween party on Saturday, 8pm You’re invited. Costume contest too! This isn’t a text message that she should’ve gotten--Anahera played on the school’s field hockey team but she wasn’t that popular to get a text message from Chelsea. Chelsea was on the school’s cheerleading team, up next for captain once the current senior graduated. They worked together once on a physics project and exchanged numbers only to talk about who would do what and to meet after school to run the lab. But that was pretty much the existent of their interactions, besides saying hi in passing in the hallways.

But here Chelsea was texting Anahera about a Halloween party. Looking up from her phone, Anahera risks a quick glance to her father. He stands outside the car, phone pressed to his ear. A call came in right as Anahera walked up to the car. He paused long enough to greet her and ask how she was doing but he had to return to the call pretty quickly after that. Her practice ran long--mostly because their coach was getting on their case about two girls that got into a physical fight in school and thus were benched for two games. Her dad’s not the type to be overly strict about her going out. But he was a small bit of a worrier and liked to know the parents or at least have their numbers.

Anahera turns back to her phone and pulled up Levi’s thread. Did you get an invite to a Halloween party on Saturday?

It’s only a couple of moments before Levi replies. Yeah. ‘rents already said yes. What about you?

Levi was the last child in a line of four, so it was never really a shock that their parents let them do pretty much anything as long as they could say who they were going with and what time they were going to be back home by. Anahera glances back out to the window and notices Calum nodding along to whatever is being said. When they catch eyes, Calum puffs up his cheeks and crosses his eyes just to get a laugh out of her. Anahera shakes her head with a small chuckle and sticks her tongue out in return before returning to her phone.

Haven’t asked yet. Afraid he’s going to say no.

Your dad’s not like that. Let him know you’re going with me. My curfew is midnight. Dan’s on dial too--just in case.

Dan was nice, and even though he was the oldest of their siblings, he wasn’t big on partying. He was quiet, played video games mostly and occasionally went out. But as the only one with a car, he became the go to one for rides to and from places or as a quick line of defense. Anahera normally had a curfew around eleven. However, if she led the question with Levi’s plans and Dan being their ride, then her dad might be more flexible about extending the curfew. Anahera would also have to promise that her homework would be done Friday night because if she didn’t, Calum would certainly use that as a way to be hesitant.

The only way to find out her answer is going to be just asking flat out. Leaning across the console, Anahera rolls down the window. The buzzing and whir catches Calum’s attention and he takes the phone from his ear. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’ll be off in five and get you some dinner. I know you’re probably starving after practice.”

“Thanks. Um, actually I wanted to ask you if I could go to this party on Saturday. It’s at Chelsea’s. Levi’s going and they have to be back home by 12.”

“Halloween party?” Calum asks.

Anahear nods. “I’ll have all my homework done on Friday. I’m already done with one essay and I think there’s a math set packet Mr. M is handing out on Thursday to help as extra study material for the test on Monday. And Bee’s already reading over my college essay so when I get the edits it’ll be like super quick.”

Calum sighs, hearing the voice on the line droning on. “Levi’s going? And their parents know Chelsea’s parents or have their number?”

“I-I don’t know. I just know Levi got the approval to go. Please, Dad. I can ask Chelsea tomorrow about the number thing. But please can I go? Dan’s on speed dial in case we need a ride.”

Calum holds her gaze, mouth twisting up. Bee had asked what Calum and Anahera had planned to do for Halloween. Normally, the two of them dressed up and handed out candy to the kids in the neighborhood that came by trick or treating on the day of Halloween and during the weekends, sometimes they went to haunted houses or Anahera hung out with Levi in her room, watching scary movies until ungodly hours in the morning. Anahera’s eagerness to go the party didn’t strick Calum was strange. She’s settled into her junior year, her birthday passing in September. However, Calum did start to miss things from before. Like the way Anahera always wanted to hang out with him and how they always had plans for Halloween. But things were changing. She was growing up and Calum was going to have to grow with that too.

He nods. “Yeah, you can go. But,” he starts interrupting the squeal from Anahera, “the edits your college admission essay need to be done before you leave on Saturday. You’re not struggling in math too much, and I trust you with whatever you need to make sure you get a good grade on that test on Monday.” Anahera wants to apply early decision to a couple schools and the rest are regular decisions. Bee advised that it would be easier for her to finish the essays early and that way the only thing to stress about come the summer and start of senior year were getting the letters of recommendations. Though the essays that Anahera were drafting for college apps right now were samples/examples. Anahera wanted to have a bank of a couple different kinds that wouldn’t need too much extra work to fit to the questions before being submitted.

Though Calum suggested that she not worry that not much closer until time, Anahera insisted that she wanted some practice and considering that the beginning of the semester wasn’t that congested with work, it worked out well.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Anahera exclaims crawling over the console and hugging Calum through the open window of the car.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. Love you.” He knows he’s clinging a little too long but he doesn’t want to forget the way Anahera squeezed in her hugs. It was a trait she had since she was little and Calum’s not sure where she got it from. However, there was nothing like a hug from her--even when she was small and she sensed something was wrong, she would run up to him with her favorite toy at the time in her hand and squeeze him tight in a hug. She would always tell him not to be sad because she would always have hugs for him.

“Love you too!” Anahera replies easily.

Calum gets off the work call soon after that and climbs into the driver seat, or at least he attempts to. Anahera hasn’t left the driver side seat since getting the okay for her venture to the party. “Ma’am. I know you’re getting closer to that license but I think I’m still in charge of driving for just a little bit longer.”

Anahera laughs. “Oh c’mon, Pops. You know I can handle this no problem.” She over dramatizes taking a sharp turn, hands passing over each other and lightly brushing the cover of the steering wheel. She hasn’t tested yet but they get out early on the weekends for practice and Calum keeps encouraging her to test. It’s yet to happen, but he’s hopeful.

“Maybe on Sunday you go for a spin. But it ain’t Sunday yet.”

Anahera looks to Calum with her brows raised. “Promise?”

“Promise.” They hook pinkies and she climbs back into the passenger seat. “Subs?”

“Oh, you know exactly what I was thinking. But that might just be that you’re my dad.”

“Maybe,” Calum laughs, “maybe.”

Anahera relays the news to Levi about her approval to go to the party. Any costume ideas? I’m a giant nothing. Levi asks. Anahera thinks about usual superheroes, the sexy costumes. But those wouldn’t work out too well.

Couples costumes? Or too lame?

I love you, Ana. But I am not going in some dumb het. normative costume.

Anahera snickers at the text. I didn’t mean like couple couple costume. But like matching/same universe or something.

Oh, oh, hmm, that could work.

Stranger Things--Scoops Ahoy Steve and Robin? That message comes through at the same time that Levi suggest pirates. Oh, pirates could be cool? We’d have to get to the mall to shop possibly. but I promised to have homework done before Friday.

“Wanna eat inside or get it to go?”

Ana looks up and sees that the car is parked outside their favorite Italian place. Anahera shrugs and unbuckles. “It’s everyone else’s problem if I stink, not mine.”

Calum laughs. “That’s why there was the option to not kill everyone with your funk.” He locks the doors, taking a quick glance at the parking lot. He doesn’t spot Bee’s car. He know she doesn’t take too many hours at the restaurant during the week, but occasionally she takes a few or she comes in when they need more help. He wasn’t sure if she was working both jobs or not. But given the number of cars in the parking lot, he can’t really get a good look around.

Inside is crowded. Though most people seem to be getting orders to go, lined up at the counter as compared to the pretty empty dining area. Calum and Anahera stand the podium to be seated for a couple moments. Anahera is buried in her phone while Calum glances around. He spies Bee at the counter, handing over a stack of three pizza boxes to a man. The woman he’s with comes up and takes the bag Bee hands over. “Just two?” a voice close by cuts in. A younger guy who Calum hasn’t seen before stands in front of them.

Calum turns with a nod. “Yes, just two.”

“Booth or table?” the young man asks.

“Booth,” Anahera returns with a smile and follows behind as they’re escorted to the booth. Calum throws one last glance back to the counter. Bee happens to glance up and throws a small wave which Calum returns.

“Can I start you all out with something to drink?” the young man asks, pen in hand.

“Water,” Calum answers, slipping the sunglasses up into his hair and Anahera replies with the same.

The young man nods. “Lemon on the side okay?” With nods all the way around, he starts over to the drink mission.

Anahera turns directly to the sub and sandwiches section of the menu. “See your boo,” Ana teases glancing up for a moment.

Calum shakes his head, cheeks heating for a split second at the tease. He and Bee have been dating for a little seven months. Anahera wasn’t shocked after discovering the hickies that fated day but she never fails to say that she’s the thing that brought them together. “Yeah, I saw her,” Calum returns. “So about this party? You and Levi know what your costumes are going to be? Like going in something matching or separate?”

“We’re thinking about something matching. They suggested pirates or something but I don’t think I have anything in my closet that could work and I would ask to go shopping on Saturday before the party but I wasn’t sure how that was going to go over.”

“Hmm, if you needed to borrow anything from me, you could. Or if Levi wanted too, they could as well. And it comes down too, I could take y’all Friday after school.That would give you Saturday morning to work too and then get ready. Or whatever works better.”

“Thanks, Dad. I’ll let them know.” Anahera works her fingers over the screen, the keys highlighting for a second before dropping back down to their normal size. “And thanks. For offering to take Levi and offering your closet.”

Calum knows Levi’s parents haven’t super well to their coming out and using they/them pronouns. However, Levi’s siblings have defended them and Anahera too. He wishes he could do a lot more. He’s tried to help as much as he can, being there for Levi when they need someone but he knows it’s not always the same--it’s not like having their actual parents being supportive. “Of course. You two have been friends since elementary school. Almost feels like a second child at this point--Levi’s family at this point.”

“You’re pretty awesome, Dad.”

“I can only ever do my best, sweetheart. That’s it.”

“Yeah, but your best is still pretty great.” She’s quick to return to her phone no doubt relaying everything to Levi. The waiter returns with their waters and runs down the specials for the day. Anahera orders her turkey panini with salad and fries. Calum overs the Philly cheese steak with just fries.

“Hey guys,” Bee says as she stops by their table. The dinner rush has slowed for the time being.

Calum tugs on her wrist and she falls into the side of the booth, his bumping against his side. His arm slides around her waist in a quick hug. “Shocked to see you here. Not even a Thursday, so you can’t tell me close to the weekend.”

“Terence’s books were more expensive this semester--so I’m trying to play catch up right now.”

“More expensive?” Calum questions, twisting in the booth to look up at her. Bee gives Anahera a quick hug before turning to stand at the edge of the table. “Why don’t you sit?”

“Boss is here today. Don’t want him complaining. And Terence signed up for an extra class, said he was going to be a class short if he didn’t fully load up his schedule. And it’s cheaper to do it now than it is to take the one class during the summer. I budgeted for right around 250 for books but the extra class was in English and it ran just under an additional 200 dollars just for that class.”

“Another 200 hundred?” Calum gaps. “You’re telling me you spent over 400 dollars in textbooks?”

“Just about 400 dollars. He’s looking for scholarships to help with textbooks. But with basketball it’s not like he can pick up a job. I need him focusing on his grade to keep the scholarship that he does have. The refund should help recover costs some but most of that I’m giving right back to Terence in installments.”

Calum nods, knowing about how Bee likes to put money into Terrence’s account. She does it so that Terrence can take care of anything that comes up in case of emergency, but she know sometimes the team goes out for dinners and other things. He’s got to be a kid in college while still in college. What Calum didn’t realize is just how much Terrence didn’t know about what Bee did behind the scenes for him. Terrence came home for the summer, well before summer conditioning and they hung out, and Terrence knew Bee worked her ass off to help him but she hadn’t pulled the veil back to reveal just how much she busted ass to make his games, keep him afloat and never stressing about money.

Calum respected that and never discussed money in front of Terrence. But part of him did want Terrence to know just how much Bee was working so that textbooks were the least of his worries. “You know I’m here, for anything,” Calum offers, wrapping his fingers around hers.

Bee nods. “Thanks. I appreciate it. But get ready, you’re next,” she teases, laughing before glancing over to Anahera. “Once I get home I can send you my suggestions. They’re on my laptop and I didn’t bring it with me to this job.”

“Don’t worry, Bee. I appreciate you just taking the time to read over it.”

“Of course.” The bell above the door chimes and Bee turns, greeting the family that just entered letting them know she’ll be right over in a moment. “Alright, duty calls. Enjoy your dinner.”

Bee squeezes Calum’s hand and then turns on her heels to go to the podium. “How are we tonight? Besides just a smidge hungry?” Bee jokes, grabbing menus. The group laughs just a little bit before following Bee to a booth about three down from Calum and Anahera.

“You think Bee would take me and Levi shopping?”

Calum perks up at the question. Anahera and Bee get along well but Bee’s careful about suggesting that she and Anahera spend time together. As Calum knows and understands, Bee doesn’t want to come across as being pushing or trying too hard but she doesn’t want to seem like she doesn’t care. They’ve gotten manicures together or gone out just for ice cream--it’s always been small things. However, Anahera seems to enjoy that time together.

“Ask, can’t hurt. If her schedule allows, I think she’d be happy to take you and Levi,” Calum answers. He bites down on the corner of his lip to contain a small portion of his smile. Bee’s been the one to schedule most of their activities together or at least initiate them. But seeing Anahera take the lead on this one is a good sign.

“Oh, you’re right. She might be working. I don’t want to make her feel bad if she’s working?” Anahera enjoys the time she’s spent with Bee. When they got the gel manicures, it was fun. Bee picked out Anahera’s color and they were able to sit next to each other as they talked about watching True Crime documentaries and Ana told her all about the new music she had been listening too. Bee was cool about all the jokes Anahera made, and once their colors cured under the UV lights, Anahera spent nearly thirty minutes sitting outside the shop just showing Bee all the videos and memes that she had saved recently.

Bee felt like her dad’s girlfriend, but she also felt like someone that cared about Anahera too. It was a nice feeling to have another girl to talk about things that just got it. And whatever Anahera didn’t want to go back to Calum, didn’t get back to him. Anahera mentioned to Bee before Calum about Levi and what was happening at home for them. Anahera begged Bee not to say anything to her dad. Not that she thought Calum wouldn’t be understanding but because Anahera just didn’t want to out her best friend to someone they weren’t ready to be out too. However, when Anahera needed someone to talk to about Levi, Bee was gracious and patient and promised not to breathe a word to Calum. So when Levi came over for the first time to come out, while Bee and Calum were fixing dinner, Bee’s reaction was like she had heard the news for the first time. Calum was shocked but grateful to know and the change was immediate, though a little bumpy at first. Anahera called Bee later that night to thank her for being supportive of her best friend.

Also in terms of pirate costuming, as much as Anahera adores her dad, she knew only Bee would get her vision for her costume and be able to help her. Also Bee could also help Levi put together their costume so that the two of them matched but still kept a distinct air to the both of them.

Bee passes their table right after they get their orders with a tray full of drinks for the table that she has. However on the second pass by, Anahera manages to snag her attention. “Do you work Saturday morning?”

Bee ponders for a moment. “I work here starting at 2. What’s up?”

“I got invited to this Halloween party and Levi and I want to go as pirates. But we both need a few things to help with our outfits. Would you mind taking us and helping us out?”

The grin that breaks across Bee’s face is so big Calum’s sure her cheeks are going to split right there on the spot. “Yeah, I’d love to. Mall opens at 9. How does 10 sound? Would that time work for them as well?”

“I can ask.”

“Text me whatever works best, okay. I’ll pick you up first and then we’ll swing and get Levi.”

Anahera nods and turns back to her salad just as Bee turns back and continues down to the kitchen. “So I’m getting the boot I guess.”

“I guess you can come too. Do you and Bee have plans?”

“Bee asked if we had plans. I told her our normal plans are using dressing up and doing a little decorating to hand out candy or you watching movies with Levi but now that’s different. So I’m not even sure.”

“Just remember, I’m coming back home at midnight sharp.” Once or twice, Anahera’s caught the embarrassing glimpse of a kiss getting pretty heavy. That’s enough, she doesn’t want to see anything more than that.

Calum gapes for a moment around the sip of his water. “Missy, who’s the parent here?” Anahera goes quiet, shoveling the last bite of her salad into her mouth. “That’s what I thought.” With their dinner finish and check paid, Calum and Anahera slip out from the booth. They both say goodbye to Bee before leaving. Anahera promises to text Bee the second she gets a time that works well before 2.

It’s only later in the night, after Calum gets a text from Bee that she got home safely that he calls her. She doesn’t answer immediately. However about 20 minutes later, his phone rings from her. “Hey,” he says settling into the pillows. Tammy’s curled up on his lap. The click of paws outside the door alerts Calum that Anahera’s moving around the house and Jake’s following right behind her. “How was your day?”

“Pretty good. The restaurant was crazy when I walked in but the rest of the night calmed down. How was your day?”

“Nothing too grand until I surprisingly ran into you,” he chuckles softly into the receiver. “I just want to say thank you for agreeing to take Anahera and Levi shopping. That-that means a lot to me.”

“No need to thank you, Cal baby. But you’re so welcome. I love Ana and Levi. I’d do whatever I could for them.”

“No, I do need to thank you. I know you’re working hard to cover what you had to spend on Terrence’s books but you taking the time to spend with my daughter and her best friend--it says a lot more about your character than anything.”

“Thank you, Calum. That means a lot.”

“Of course.”

“With Anahera and Levi going to the party, are you just going to hang out on Halloween?”

“I guess. I don’t know. Unless of course you’d like to spend some time together after work if you’re not too tired of course.”

“I’m only working a 5 hours shift. I picked up part of someone else’s shift. So if you wanted to do something after 7, we can. Your neighborhood’s plenty active right? Like you hand out candy and what not?”

“Yeah, there’s enough kids that come out. Would you want to dress up? I totally get if you don’t want to, with work and everything.”

“I would love to dress up! Halloween’s my favorite. But once Terrence got too old to trick-or-treat, I kinda didn’t have much reason to do a lot. The apartment complex does like a small thing for the kids, but nothing like the neighborhood I was in before Terrence and I moved.”

“Might I crash the shopping party on Saturday? I know depending on how long it takes you might have to duck out before things finish but while they shop for their costumes you and I can plan something too.”

“Sure, you can crash the shopping party. Do you decorate?”

“Used to when Anahera was younger. Not a lot much inside. It’s more outside decoration for the kiddos as they come up to the door.”

“Well I look forward to a fairly spooped out house. Trick or treating starts around 6 so I’ll miss the first hour but after my shift ends, would it be okay if I just came directly to your place and changed? What time is the party for Anahera and Levi?”

“Yeah, sure you can come straight to my place. Their party starts at 8 and Levi’s brother Dan is dropping them off at the party and dropping them Ana back off afterwards. Or at least I need to make sure that’s the plan. Even if I have to drop her off, if you come to my place, trick or treaters can still get their candy fill while I drop her off.”

“Okay, cool. Thank you.” A yawn cuts off the last little bit of the sentence. “God, sorry.”

“It’s been a long day. I get it. Get some rest, babe.”

“Wait, I gotta email Anahera. Stay on the line with me until I finish that. Then I can go night-night.”

Calum chuckles at the repetitive phrase. It reminds of when Anahera was younger. He’t tuck her in at night with a kiss to her forehead and a sweet bid of “Night-night. Sweet dreams,” without fail. And it appears that even though children might grow out of the phrase, parents never do. “Okay, I’ll stay on until you do that. Do you have any costume ideas?”

“Something witchy. Or vampires. Or we can go with something with a bit more gore. I think I have some special effects makeup left in that kit.”

“I know you said Halloween is for favorite but for someone that doesn’t celebrate like before, I’m a little lost on why you have a kit.”

“Library holds some special readings every quarter. Theme was fairytales so we dressed up and used some special effects for some wrinkles for the old fairy godmother. And I just got the big kit because I figured it would last for more than reading. There’s some fake blood in it too. I like to have all my options.”

Calum hums, the pillows surrounding him starting to pull him into sleep as well. Just closing his eyes won’t hurt. It’s quiet for a moment, faintly he can hear the taps and clicks of Bee on her computer. “Oh, what about something with Bonnie and Clyde?”

“Like them dead? Because I think I could be down.” The sentence is a little slow to fall from Bee’s lips.

“Hmm yeah maybe.”

“Thanks for staying up with me even though we both about to pass out.”

“Anything for you.”

“Goodnight, Calum.”

“Hey, that’s a good night-night and sweet dreams to you, Bee.” She laughs softly into the receiver and it’s the only sound Calum distinctly remembers hearing too.

Friday night Anahera is sure to show Calum her changes to the essay and when he nods, kissing the top of her head, Ana tries to hold back her excitement. She and Levi have talked about their costumes. Though Levi’s unsure of if they should go with a vest or not. They don’t have one and buying one would be pointless just for the one costume. Anahera suggests if they find one cheap they could add it to the costume without fear of not necessarily wearing it out again.

Calum agrees to drive separately from Bee, Anahera, and Levi when Saturday rolls around. The second Bee showed up Anahera dove into the vision she and Levi had for the costumes and what they both already have in their closest. Calum catches wind of a skirt and he waits for a moment unsure if that’s a smart idea. However, Bee is quick to suggest fishnets in addition to the skirt. Fishnets isn’t the answer he would’ve given, but Calum knows this is not his time into the court and let’s Bee take the lead on how to best handle wearing a skirt to a party that Calum’s almost certain alcohol may sneak its way into the mix. He knows he can’t shield Anahera forever from the world but he definitely doesn’t want her introduction to be harsh. Amongst the glimpses of conversations that he catches about the skirt, he catches onto the addition of shorts underneath too and lets out a tiny sigh of relief.

Levi hangs back as Bee and Anahera enter the first store. Calum lingers back with them.“Skipping this one?” Calum asks. It’s an H&M and there’s no doubt in Calum’s mind that they can find something here. They mentioned wanting either a jacket or the vest and then needing a thick belt or fabric to help with their look. They already have the white button up, jeans and boots for the costume.

“I-It’s a lot easier to like look online at clothes.” The confession leaves Levi’s lips softly. Calum nods, understanding that online no one says anything if they switch between men or women’s. However, the physical stores has to be a whole different ballgame, the anxiety about looks that people might give tot hem.

“If you want, I’ll stick with you. Whichever section, I can be right there.”

“You-you don’t have too, Mr. Hood.”

“It’s Uncle Cal and you know that, Levi. Besides, you’re not Anahera’s best friend. You’re part of my family. So whatever you need me to do is out of love, not obligation.”

The tears collect on their lower lids. “You consider me family?”

“Always have, kid, and always will.” With an arm slung over their shoulder, Calum proposes a deal. “What if you help me with my costume and if we just happen to find something for you, then we just happen to find something for you? How does that sound?”

Levi gives Calum a quick hug before nodding. “Sounds-sounds good to me.”

“C’mon. I think I see a suit jacket that might be perfect for Clyde. But I need younger eyes because I forgot my glasses.”

As the pair walks towards the suit jackets, Bee slides over and slips a few tissues into the palm of Calum’s hand. He hands them over to Levi and there’s a silent nod of recognition between all of them. Bee zips back over to Anahera, knowing that she had to talk the young girl out of the platform boots that Anahera doesn’t need considering the pair that she just got for her birthday.

As Calum and Levi thumb through the blazers, Calum can see one particular red ornate blazer has caught their attention. So he plucks if off the rack, pulling the medium size one off the rack to start. He can’t quite gauge their size and he doesn’t want to ask someone to measure Levi. Holding the jacket open for Levi, Calum silently asks them to try it on. “I think it might look better on you than me. I think my days have passed. Besides the red blazer I have at home reads more captain than pirate. But it’s always a look you could go for.”

Levi slips their arms into the blazer. The sleeves swallow their arms and hits them too low on their legs. But the light is evident in their eyes as they look into the mirror on the wall. “Wow,” they breathe, turning to see what it looks like from the back.

“I say we try the small. This is a medium.” Levi nods, slipping out of the jacket and taking the small from Calum. “This isn’t a tailored cut. Meaning it doesn’t cut in or cinch at the waist. This is a standard fit.” He straightens the collar out for them and grins at their smile. “Arms out straight in front of you,” he directs looking to see if the sleeves come up just a little or not all. They rise just a smidge. “Okay, reach up for the ceiling.” Levi does so without seeming restricted. “Is it tight anywhere?”

“No,” they return, shrugging their shoulders. “Not tight. It’s a little loose but like a good loose.”

“Fitted jackets and blazers can be harder to get in smaller sizes sometimes. If you want this, we can get it today and then after the party to get fitted a bit better, go to a tailor.”

“My parents would not be happy though,” Levi counters.

Calum nods. “I know that’s rough. But what if for right now, we get this and if they ask, you tell your parents it’s mine and I let you borrow it for the costume. The next time you come for to visit Anahera, I can take you to get it properly fitted.”

“How would I get it back home? My parents don’t like spot check my room but they’d notice me with this kind of jacket.”

“You leave that to me. While it’s easy to say smuggle it in your backpack, they’ll wrinkle it. But trust, between Anahera and I, we’ll make sure you get it to your room undetected.”

“I don’t know Mr. Hood. Seems like a lot of trouble.”

The nerves are understandable and Calum does not want to push them to do anything they wouldn’t want to do. “Alternatively, you find a vest for the costume and Bee and I find some fabric that’s fancy and you use that to tie around your waist as as the glamour you and Ana want. The blazer’s a dream for when you feel safer.”

“Yeah, yeah I like that.” Levi slowly removes the blazer and puts it back onto the hanger. “There’s, uh, there’s this,” they state, lifting up a standard black denim like vest.

“Okay, so something along that vibe. Gotcha.” Calum thumbs through the rack and pulls out a similar vest but this one has silver buttons and embellishments that make it feel a bit more elevated, more pirate-y.

As Levi tries that one on, Calum texts Bee to grab the red blazer from off the end of the rack and add it to the pile that Anahera’s collecting. He promises to pay her back. Within a minute of the text sending, he watches Bee approach in the mirror and grab the blazer, quickly stashing it under the racks in her hand. There’s a yellow sweater on top and a few black items beneath it as well.

“Lookin’ good, Levi!” Bee calls out, leaning behind the racks to make sure the blazer is concealed.

Anahera isn’t far behind, dragging Levi over to the shoes. “You should get this vest,” she says before returning to her point about not knowing which sneakers to get.

“They didn’t go for the blazer? It looked good,” Bee ponders quietly.

“Worried about their parents blowing a fuse. But Christmas is coming up, so hopefully things are different then. If not, I think they’d still appreciate it. And I know if I wait, it’s going to be gone.”

“You’re right about that. Ana and I are done for Halloween. You might have to convince her she doesn’t need 80 pairs of the same shoe. But while you distract, I’ll check out.”

Calum nods, heading towards the clearance shoes where Anahera and Levi are huddled. “I’ll give you the money tonight.”

Bee nods and makes a straight shot for the registers. After a trip to the fabric store for Levi’s belt, and a dive into Bee’s favorite hair care store to get headwraps for the both of them, Anahera and Levi are set for their costumes. Calum knows buried in his closet is a white dress shirt that he can throw on along with a black suit jacket, so he’s not too worried that he’s walking out the store empty handed.

Bee looks down at her phone again, teeth capturing the skin of her lips--her boss at the restaurant texted if she can come in an hour earlier. She almost doesn’t take the extra hour but Calum assures that now the costumes are set, that if she needs to take the extra hour then she absolutely take it. None of them will be mad, or feeling like she’s dipping out just to get away. “You sure?” Bee asks Calum after relaying the predicament, watching as Levi and Anahera duck in line for pretzels. “Ana’s not going to feel like I’m being mean or dodgy?”

“Babe. No. I don’t think so.” He kisses her forehead. “I know things are tight after the textbook fiasco. If you need to take the extra hour, do it.”

“I’ll keep the blazer in my bag and then bring it back to your place after they leave for the party.”

“Okay.”

She gives her quick goodbyes with hugs to Anahera and Levi, before kissing Calum softly goodbye and backtracking to the opposite end of the mall, where they parked. The shopping continues for a little bit longer, but Calum doesn’t linger too much allowing them their space. They agree to reconvene outside the sporting goods store in an about hour.

It’s a dangerous game to duck into one of the jewelry stores. Calum’s not even looking for himself and it sounds crazy and too soon for thoughts of a ring cross his mind. But he tells himself he can just browse, just fantasy about what that might be like.

“Who you looking for?”

He turns to the voice and see Anahera saddled up beside him. “You two have another like half an hour to be free.”

“Not much else here,” she returns. “Looking for Bee? Is her birthday soon or something?”

“Just looking,” Calum returns with a shrug, trying not to draw too much suspicion.

“Ana, look!” Levi calls out, waving their hand to beckon her closer. “It’s an anklet like you were looking at in the other store.”

Anahera ducks over, just to look. Soon they leave the mall. Levi asks if they can just get changed at Calum’s place which is an easy yes. Calum takes Anahera and Levi for a quick lunch before Levi grabs their costume, an overnight bag and their backpack from their house. Tammy and Jake run up from the depths of the house to greet all of them. The pets and scratches are happily received. “So scary movies to pregame for the party tonight? What’s on the agenda?” Calum asks.

“I should do the World History homework before the party,” Levi starts, laughing a little.

“But we probably will watch scary movies,” Anahera finishes.

“Go figure,” Calum agrees. “So what time should I pick you both up tonight? Or is Dan still your main man?”

“Dan said he’d pick us up from the party and just drop us off here. He said he was going to be out at that time anyway,” Levi relays.

“He won’t be drinking?”

“Nah, Dan doesn’t drink. I think some friends of his are also throwing a party and he’s used to being the DD. He said it was something about a mixer? I don’t really know. But we’ll text him when we’re ready. Is midnight still okay?”

“Mixers are just different clubs, or whatever, getting together,” Anahera cuts in. “Girls field hockey has them with the guys division and other sports after school sometimes. I assume college mixers are way different than ones in the high school gym though.”

“Yeah, midnight is still fine,” Calum answers.

Once they return to the house, it’s fairly silent. Anahera and Levi go into her room and Calum takes the moment to decorate the outside of the house. He started yesterday, mostly with the hanging decorations and the lights. Today’s mostly putting on the certain yard decorations. There are some tombstones that he stakes into the ground and a few giant fake spiders that he sets out. The decor was more extravagant in years prior. But knowing Bee will be stopping by means that the lazy decorating won’t cut it.

With the outside done, Calum pulls down the bags of candy from the pantry and pour them into bowls. He’s sure to separate the chocolate from the non-chocolate stuff. He even has a separate bowl for any candies that are chocolate and have peanuts or other nuts in it knowing that some kids in the neighborhood may have allergies. A few parents put out an alert on the neighborhood watch app. There was a year, now as Calum recalls it must’ve been three years ago, where the majority of the houses had only chocolate candy making it impossible for one kid to get any candy that they could enjoy. Calum took the leftover non chocolate candy to the house after reading the heartbreaking plea from the parents.

“What’s for dinner y’all?” Calum asks after both Ana and Levi resurface in the kitchen rummaging through the snack pantry. “We got about an hour before trick-or-treaters start showing up. Pizza? There’s leftovers too, but I think I’ll be nice and order something.”

Both of them readily agree to pizza and Calum places the order without needing much more convincing. He’ll finish off the last of the spaghetti leftovers he fixed yesterday. The pizza will not last long between the two of them--never a shock anymore to Calum anymore. He changes first into his costume knowing it won’t be fully complete until Bee shows up from work however, he would rather be one half when kids start showing up.

Though Calum slips into an older black suit. It’s somewhat of a shock that it still fits. But it’s a testament to the personal trainer for sure. Calum does make sure to include the hat. The curls don’t cooperate off the bat, requiring a little bit of assistance from some hair gel Anahera suggested to him to help. Finally, he gets the curls tamed enough to slip the hat on. His dress shoes click over the hard floor and it is echoed by Tammy and Jake finding him and walking behind him.

“Uncle Cal did not come to play,” Levi jokes around a bite of pizza.

“Dad, who even are you? I don’t know this man,” Anahera laughs. Calum does a spin and laughs as the two of them whistle. Soon Thriller comes over the speakers. No doubt Anahera pairing her phone to the speakers downstairs. “Show ‘em, Dad. Show ‘em how you groove.”

“Miss Bee’s gonna faint when she sees you like this. I want a video,” Levi laughs.

“The old man’s still got it,” Calum returns and slides his fingers over the brim of the hat. The giggles are quick to subside after the song fades out. They toss out the pizza box and wash their plates before going back to Anahera’s room.

“I’m stealing your dad’s wardrobe,” Levi says as they pass through the living room. “Taking notes.”

“Oh, don’t make his ego even better.” The two of them laugh and the door closes before anything else can be said.

The first half hour of trick-or-treaters is a little slow and mostly toddlers or infants being carted around by their parents. However, Calum enjoys seeing the various pumpkin costumes on the babies as they walk up the driveway and porch. They don’t seem bothered by the night which he knows the parents are grateful for. Exactly at seven, his phone chimes and interrupts the Halloween Party playlist Calum turned on, playing on the speaker he normally uses for outdoor parties.

I’m headed out now. It’s from Bee and he replies in acknowledgement before setting the phone back down and grabbing a couple handful of candies for the group of sheet ghosts that waddle up the driveway. “Trick or treat,” they chorus.

Calum laughs. “Well, this is a predicament.” He looks over their hands. “I can hear some trick-or-treaters but I don’t see them.” He looks over his yards, hand above his brow to emphasize the point.

“Boo!” One child giggles.

Calum jumps, finally looking down at them. “Oh there they are.” The candle rustles in their bags as he drops off some for them and they reply with their thanks before going back to the parents waiting at the end of the driveway.

“I scared him, Momma!” The kid cheers and the parents laugh, with a nod. “I’m so scary!”

“Oh I know. The scariest,” the mother returns. They move down to the next house. Another fifteen minutes later, Calum notices headlights slowing down and turning into the driveway. Bee continues up and pulls right up to the garage door.

“Oh my god,” she gapes walking up on the porch. “Look at you.” Calum greets her with a hug and a kiss to her cheek. “By God, you look sharper than Sunday morning.”

The heat in his cheeks only increases. “Thanks. But I’m missing my other half.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Bee teases, kissing him softly.

“I think it’ll get me plenty-where.”

“Be back in two shakes and a twist.” Calum nods, watching as Bee walks into the house. More children come up to the house. He drops off candy to some Cookie Monsters, witches, Captain America’s, and Spiderman’s. Ten minutes later, the front door opens and there are only a couple clicks of the heels. When Calum looks up, he nearly loses his breath. The sweater and skirt are fitted to her figure, hinting to what he’s always known is there, has witnessed more than once, but she keeps it hidden under jeans or skirts at work. Not that he’s upset about that, it all makes sense. He just wishes she showed it off a little bit more. The little beret and scarf really complete the look.

It’s Calum’s turn to be gobsmacked. “Holy shit, you look great.”

“Thanks. I’ve been told to remind you that the party starts in about ten minutes. And they’ll come to the front porch once they’re ready. I got stopped in the hallway,” Bee laughs, sitting in the seat next to Calum.

“Noted.”

Another group of children approaches, this time a group dressed in various costumes from Winnie the Pooh. One girl is Eeyore, there’s a Pooh, Tigger, and Piglet. The parents are dressed as Owl and Rabbit. “Twick oh tweet,” the one dressed as Tigger says quietly a shy smile on their face.

Bee gasps, chest clenching at the matching costumes. Terrence and his friends would do something similar, group costumes. His group costumes weren’t as cute as Winnie the Pooh but still memories come flooding back of superhero costume debates. God, sometimes she wishes she could make Terrence small again, cherish the moments where all he wanted to do was be up under her as she cooked or cleaned. It all just happens too fast.

Bee drops some candy into their buckets. “It’s the whole 100 Acre Woods. I won’t tell Christopher Robin that guys you dropped by.”

The kids laugh and say their thanks. “I miss dressing babies up,” Calum confesses. “Anahera and I used to always do matching outfits and she was so happy to bounce up to houses.”

“Terrence would go as athletics or power rangers. I wish my complex did more. I miss the decorating and having to hide the candy from Terrence.”

“High up in cabinets,” Calum laugh.

“He got too tall for that and too crafty. Hide it in my drawers. He didn’t mess too much in my room.”

Calum chuckles. “Smart. Did you hide Christmas presents in there too? Because I still struggle with that.”

Bee nods, watching more kids walk up and shouts “Trick-or-Treat!” The two of them drop off candy into their buckets and bags. “I leave it in the boxes, if I order online. With Terrence in college now, it’s easier now. Get crafty and hide it in the bathrooms.”

“Now that’s a thought.”

A family comes up, dressed up in leather and bling. “Oh, we got some rockstars,” Bee teases, nudging Calum.

The little girl is dressed in her leather jacket and her brother is in a jacket that matches and it melts his heart. Calum tries not to show it, tries not to gush too much at the costumes but they are adorable. He sneaks them a few extra pieces of candy. “Keep on rockin’ out,” he grins at them.

They smile in return, “Thank you!” in their excited squeals leaving both of them.

Calum clutches his chest as they leave and Bee laughs, “Don’t die on me. You gotta survive.”

“We did that one year,” he sighs, finally sitting up in the chair. “Anahera wanted to go as me and I bought her this silver blazer. I’ll show you the pictures.”

“Oh, that’s precious. I can’t wait to see them.”

The trick-or-treaters slow down and Calum knows the end is nearing for them. Things usually end right about 8 in the neighborhood, though the general unspoken rule it so linger until about 8:30 just to catch all those that might’ve gotten a later start. But he and Bee stay out on the porch. She stacks the empty buckets and sneaks an Almond Joy for herself. “The decorations look good. And I just realized we completely forgot the fake blood.”

Calum shrugs, grabbing a small Snickers. “It’s alright. Most of the parents got it regardless.” They received a few compliments throughout the night but not too many. Most of the time the older kids walked up by themselves but when parents did shadow behind, they were quick to gush at the couple’s costumes.

Anahera and Levi pop out onto the porch a little while later and Calum excuses himself to drop them off. Though, Bee snaps some photos for them and Anahera returns the favor by taking some photos of Bee and Calum together. The teases from the two are more than enough even when they don’t attempt to pose Bee and Calum in the standard high school prom pose. Calum and Bee go along with it mostly for the laughs.

Bee starts to clean up in Calum’s absence and puts things inside the house. By the time she starts to wrestle with the speaker, Calum’s returned and helps her get it back inside. She ducks back to her car to grab the blazer for Levi and takes it from the bag so it can straighten as much as it can. Calum’s quick to hang it up to help as well. “Do you work in the morning?” Calum asks, pulling the hat from his head as he reenters the living room from the back of the house where his bedroom is located.

“At the library, yeah. But I can hang for another hour or two. Unless of course I pass the fuck out.”

“I know that feeling. You hungry?”

Bee follows behind into the kitchen, her own beret and scarf removed as well. “I ate at work, but thanks.” She leans into the counter, eying the box of popcorn that seems to have been left out. Popcorn does sound good. She knows she shouldn’t. But just a little wouldn't hurt as they watch a movie. Sneakily, she pushes the box closer to Calum.

He giggles, noticing the green box moving closer to him. “So I’m going to assume you want popcorn.”

“Please?”

Calum nods, waving for her to come closer. She steps in close, resting against his chest. The microwaves beeps before whirring. Calum kisses the top of her head, wrapping his arms around her waist. “The hottest Bonnie to walk this Earth.”

Bee laughs, kissing along his jawline. “Thank you. I think you cleaned up well as Clyde. Almost cut me looking so sharp in this suit.”

They share a kiss and the beeps of the microwave interrupts them. “What’s on the movie menu tonight?” Calum asks, bumping the bag into a bowl. Bee’s not in love with horror films but can generally stomach more gore than straight up horror. Rather than dominating the conversation with suggestions, Calum lets her take charge. However, they settle on whatever is playing on the TV, after a good twenty minutes of failed decision making. Bee snuggles into his side, a blanket wrapped about the both of them.

“Where’s the picture of Anahera dressed up as you?” Bee asks during a commercial break. “I need to see this.”

Calum stretches forward to grab his phone and scrolls for the photo. “So this is the look she wanted to recreate,” he says showing her a picture of himself from so long along Calum’s shocked that he remembers it was actually him. But the picture of him in the silver jacket on stage instills a lot of memories.

“Oh look at you! How old were you in this photo?”

“Twenty-two, twenty-three. It feels like a lifetime ago. But,” he starts swiping through the pictures again and pulls up the one of them side by side, rocking the glittery blazer and slicked back hair. “Here’s my little girl matching her old man.”

“God, she looks so much like you. It’s insane. But this is so cute.”

“Thanks. I will say if you think Anahera and I look alike, it’s a family trait.”

“So you look like your parents, huh? Like you got spit out.”

Calum nods. “Yeah. My mum’s the culprit. My sister and I look like she sculpted us personally. Also speaking of blazers, I still have to pay you back. How much was it again?”

The movie continues on around them as they settle the payment. Stories filter on about their children’s past successful or failed costumes. There are some stories about their exploits in their younger years. Kisses are shared, soft and languid. Some are sweeter due the candy they snuck during the night too. Hands slips under dress shirts or sweaters but Calum and Be don’t go too far. Just kisses and exhales and intoxicating themselves with the other. During a commercial break, Bee excuses herself to the bathroom and it’s only then that Calum realizes that it’s closing in around 11 pm.

Calum cleans up their mess of kernels and wrappers. When Bee returns she finds Calum in the kitchen, hugging him from behind. “I’m gonna head home to get some sleep.”

“No, don’t leave me,” he whines.

“I know. I don’t wanna either. But out of respect, ya know. Can’t just be randomly spending the night.”

Calum kisses across her knuckles. “I appreciate it. Let me know when you get home safely okay.”

“Will do.” Calum walks Bee to her car and kisses her goodnight before watching her pull down the driveway. Not even before he can get to the porch, another pair of headlights cuts through the night. He watches it pull up into this driveway and notices the tag--it’s Dan.

Levi and Anahera step out of the car both of them giggling incessantly. “Oh fuck,” Ana says loudly upon seeing her dad. “Shit.”

Calum can already tell alcohol’s been involved. But there’s only amusement as both of them attempt to pass off like they’re sober. He takes Anahera while Dan helps Levi up the steps. “Seems like there was definitely been some fun tonight,” he teases, fixing both of them classes of water.

“We won the costume contest!” Levi declares. “And maybe had a shot or two.”

“We got third,” Ana corrects.

“Sstill placing.”

Calum tries his best not to laugh at their not sober antics. “Drink some water. Honestly, how many drinks?”

“Only like two, two and a half,” Ana confesses hiding behind the class.

“It’s clear sweetheart, so I can still see you.”

“Damn.”

Levi laughs, slipping down into the cushions. The headscarf slips off their head with the action but they don’t seem to notice. “Are we screwed, Uncle Cal? I really really can’t afford to get into trouble.”

“We’ll wait to see if you’re screwed when you wake up tomorrow. If you feel like ass in the morning, you’ll have to deal with that and there’s no reason for me to dish out any punishments.”

“If we don’t feel like ass?”

“The fear of getting caught coming home shamby from a paper is punishment enough,” Calum chuckles.

With a glass of water down each, he helps them to the room, mostly herding them from the walls to keep anyone from knocking their head on a picture frame. “Thanks, Dad,” Anahera sighs, leaning into the wall for a little bit of support.

“There was a reason why most of your homework had to be done before the party,” he grins. “Holler if you need me, okay?”

Calum texts Bee about their return, safe but not sober. Damn, should’ve stuck around to witness that. Need an extra pair of hands? Bee replies.

Seems like we’re all good. Thanks.

Also please send me the photos of us from tonight? Whenever you can of course. I think if we had gone to a costume contest we would’ve won too.

Of course. Definitely would’ve won with a woman like you on my arm.

Calum rises first the next morning, and doesn’t disturb them immediately. However, closer to late morning, he knocks softly on Anahera’s door. “Yeah?” Ana calls out and as he peeks inside he notices they’re still up. Levi is sitting on her bed and Ana at her desk.

“Oh, thought you two might’ve died at some point in the night. Glad to see I was wrong.”

“We didn’t drink that much.”

Levi snorts. “I had to get you Advil.”

“Shut up,” Anahera huffs, dropping her head in her hands. “I’m okay, Dad. Really. I’m fine. Just like a minor headache that’s all.”

He shakes his head. “You’ll learn eventually. Pancakes on me this morning, how does that sound?”

“I’m down,” Levi answers. Their attention is locked on the screen.

“I’ll let you know when food’s ready.” Calum states to the room and begins to shut the door but still can faintly catch Anahera asking Levi about the blazer. He leaves the door slightly ajar but walks back to his room the jacket hangs right where he left it. He wanted it to be a present, wanted to get it tailored. But he knows he can’t wait. Calum pulls it off the bar and shuffles back to Anahera’s room. Slipping his arm through, he hooks onto the knob on the inside and then closes the door. He waits for a moment.

“No way! No fucking way!”

The door swings open, Levi gripping the hanger and shaking the garment. “You totally didn’t?” Their voice cracks just a little as the emotion rocks them visibly.

“Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t. But I mean you’re holding the jacket, so I’m pretty sure I did.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” they gush, tackling Calum into a hug.

“Anytime, kid, anytime.” While Halloween’s typically celebrated and seen as a way to become and dress up like someone else, it doesn’t mean Levi doesn’t deserve the chance to dress like themself. “If you have to keep it over here, I get it. And I had anticipated waiting on giving it to you, but felt like now was a good time.”

They dance up and down the hallway with the suit jacket and Anahera laughs, recording their excitement. She’s careful not to post it on anything public. Her socks cause her to nearly slip and fall as she rounds the corner to the kitchen. Calum’s at the stove, flipping over pancakes when she hugs his side. “Thanks for being awesome. About the drinking and getting Levi that blazer. They love it.”

“The drinking’s one thing because you embarrassed yourself. The blazer--well I couldn’t not get it.”

“I know it’s because you’re amazing and awesome and like the best person to walk the planet, but it really does mean a lot.”

“Anytime, sweetheart. I’d do just about anything for you and Levi.”

“Only just about anything?”

“Hey, that’s still a long list and included on it is making the two of you pancakes so you two can study because there’s still school on Monday.”

“Oh don’t remind me,” she laughs, popping to kiss his cheek and then scurrying back around the corner of the kitchen.

“That’s my job!” Calum shouts.

“You do it well!”

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