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sluttbuttsstuff · 3 years ago

Note

For the prompts, 49 with doppio? >:3 Idk what it is about him I just look at him and think “oh you’re NEEDY needy, huh?”. Thank you so much, you’re a really good writer! :)

No problem buddy, thanks for the request! >:3

Warnings: not sfw, dubcon/noncon, abduction, dark themes, yandere, etc.

Also, my requests are still open, if anyone else is interested!

Enjoy!

Yandere prompt with Doppio, “You want me to fuck you…? Would that make you happy? Would it make you love me?” afab reader, dub/non con

All you wanted to do now was go home. You had had a long week at work, your parents were nagging you again, and to make things worse you had a headache that would not go away. After an exhausting day that began before the sun was out, and ended after the sun had set, you certainly deserved to do nothing more than go home, eat some junk food in your comfy pjs, listen to a podcast while you took a bath and pampered yourself, and maybe jerk off before bed. Unfortunately, you had a “girls night” tonight.

Your friends (your IRL friends at least) complained that you never went out with them anymore (nevermind that whenever you suggested doing something with them, or wanted to chat or text on the phone they were busy) and had forced you to go clubbing with them to celebrate the three-day weekend ahead. You weren’t much of a drinker, and really weren’t much of a dancer, so you had been given the purses to hold while you waited for them to be ready to go home.

You wrinkled your nose in frustration, glaring into the blurry screen of your phone looking at the late time: this was unfair. You were a hard worker, kind to a fault to those around you, and you deserved better than this. Sitting in a corner of a crowded club, everyone in the place having a great time except for you, tired and alone. At least in your apartment, you chose to be there, and at least no one actively ignored you: places like this just pointed out the flaws you hated about yourself more: you were bad with people, and easy to ignore.

Once one of your “friends” stumbled over to the group’s table, you left them with everyone's purse, mumbling you were going to the bathroom (you didn’t know if she heard you and you didn’t care) and left before anyone could stop you. You stumbled your way to the restroom in heels way too high for you to walk in, trying to clean yourself up and find a quiet place to text your goodbyes so your friends wouldn’t worry about your sudden disappearance. Leaning over the sink counter, you wiped a makeup smear off the corner of your lips, noticing a second too late someone behind you.

“Hey, there’s another sink-” You began to say to the blurred figure way too close to you, before a sudden eruption of pain hit the side of your head, and you were out in a flash…

The next time you regained consciousness was several hours later, but it was still dark when you opened your eyes, trying to remember what happened and where in the world you were. The stale cigarette smell, the unreasonably cold ac, the bedsheets starched so strongly that the sheets felt like plastic- this was definitely a motel. But where, and how long had you been here? As you began to sit up, you heard a surprised, timid voice.

“Oh, thank goodness! You’re awake, I was beginning to worry about you! Hold on, don’t move so suddenly, i’ll help you sit up.

Sure enough, as you started moving, your head lit up with painful throbbing that made last night’s headache seem like nothing in comparison. You grit your teeth and clenched your eyes shut, trying not to groan in pain.

“What the hell happened to me last night?” you grunted through your teeth, rubbing your temple as gentle hands helped slowly sit you up propped against cushions.

“Haha, you had a lot of bad luck last night, running into my boss. He was waiting for...an employee in the restroom and thought you were sent after him. He’s a bit paranoid, and he may have...accidentally clobbered you.” The voice apologized, gentle as he handed you what felt like a glass of water.

You forced yourself to open your eyes; it was still dark, but you could tell it wasn’t because of the time of day but rather a lack of light and closed curtains. You looked at..you looked at the person in front of you. Like whoever had attacked you last night, they had long pink hair, braided and side parted. Their eyes were green and wide, and they looked particularly juvenile with a crop top and freckles. They were on the smaller side, perhaps even shorter than you (hard to tell from while on the bed) and their eyes were crinkled in apprehension, like he was afraid you were going to hurt him.

“Erm, don’t worry though, I talked him out of doing anything too..extreme, after all I'm his right hand man! Besides, you seem like a perfectly nice person, I'd hate to see anything bad happen to you. Sorry, I'm rambling! Umm, do you want something for your headache? You were groaning in your sleep, I'm sure it doesn’t feel so good right now-” He went on and on, pulling out some painkillers to take with your water.

After thanking him, you were about to swallow the pill before pausing, looking at the strange man who’d taken you to a remote hotel after his boss had nearly killed you. Sensing your suspicion, doppio exclaimed, “Oh, don’t worry, they’re safe, name brand painkillers! Um, hold on, lemme just-” And he made a show of popping some of the pills you were holding into his mouth and swallowing, sticking out his tongue and opening his mouth to show you he’d ingested it.

Satisfied, and more importantly in a lot of pain, you took some of the pills yourself, much to the relief of the pink haired man.

“Oh good, thank you for doing that! I was so worried watching you asleep, you’ll feel much better now! By the way, my name’s Doppio, it’s a pleasure to meet you! Oh! And I know your name’s y/n because you had your purse and ID on you! Haha, sorry for going through your purse, I was just hoping to find any info on you that might be, you know, important.” he sat on the bed, scooching closer and closer to you.

You cleared your throat, unsure of what to say, and the watchful eyes of Doppio doing nothing to make you feel better.

“Well, um, thank you, Doppio. I appreciate you, um, saving me? Sorry for any inconvenience, I'll just, um-” You try to get up to leave, only for Doppio to place a hand over your leg.

“Don’t go! What, I mean, what if you hurt yourself? You probably have a concussion, and also you haven’t had breakfast? We could eat together and-” Doppio stammered, grabbing your hand and stroking it with his sweaty, cold fingers.

You had to stop him, before things got out of hand.

“Thank you, Doppio, it really was very sweet of you to take such good care of me, but I-”

“Please! You don’t understand, I mean-” Doppio fumbled with his words, clearly trying to make you stay at all costs.

“Doppio, i can’t stay here forever, i need to go home. My friends are probably worried about me by now.” You tried to press on, you didn’t want to upset the man with a powerful boss, but you felt increasingly claustrophobic with Doppio pawing at you.

“You mean those mean girls who left you with their purses all night? Why would you care about what they-” Doppio covered his mouth with both hands quickly, realizing what he just said.

Your blood ran ice cold; how did he know so much about them? Had he been watching you before the “incident”

Using his moment of weakness, you got up from the bed and tried to reach the door; it was time for you to go home, if not call the cops.

Doppio yelped, Throwing himself in front of the door before you could make your escape.

“Please, don’t be scared y/n! I didn’t mean to upset you, I only meant that I can treat you much better than your friends can. I mean, look at how good I've been for you so far?? I didn’t make you dance with me at the club, even though I really wanted to. I didn’t just have my fun against your will in the bathroom stall like the boss told me to do.I saved you from a concussion, or worse! I got you your own hotel room for the night, and didn’t take advantage of you or touch you while you were asleep! I want our first time to be special, after all! Isn’t that what you want?” Doppio pleaded, eyes wild as he tried to smile, trying to calm you.

You were anything but calm however, this guy was clearly obsessed with you, and had been for longer than just one night. Even if at first he had merely seemed like a pathetic “nice guy” you no longer had any pity or time to give him.

“Doppio, get away from the door and let me leave, now.” you demanded in your best authoritative voice. Doppio whimpered, this wasn’t how this was supposed to go at all, you were supposed to love him!

“You can’t! Boss and I won’t let you!” He cried, covering the door with his body. With no other choice, you slid out of your shoes and charged at him full speed. You managed to give him a good blow on the head, and threw him out of the way of the door. He cried, crumpled on the ground. If not for the fact that he had kidnapped you, you might have felt bad for hurting him like this, but you had to think of yourself at this moment.

As you finally unlock and pull open the door, heading towards freedom, you hear the strangest noise behind you.

“RingRingRingRingRing!” Doppio calls after you, in an unnatural, high pitched tone. You try to ignore it, you literally don’t have time for this, but with strength he had not previously displayed, Doppio grabs one of your arms, twisting it behind your back and up to his ear, holding it like a telephone.

There’s a trickle of blood, and one of his eyes is rolled back in its socket, but he calmly says, “Hello, this is Doppio,” Into your hand, as if he was having a normal conversation on the phone.

You scream out, doubled over by the pain in your arm, Doppio silent as he “listens” to his “Phonecall” oblivious to your suffering. Where did all this power come from? He was acting like an entirely different person, and frankly scaring you. Doppio nodded, pulling your hand closer into his ear and intently listening to nothing but air before “Hanging up and pulling you back into the motel room.

He threw you on the bed ( his arms felt much stronger, and more muscular for some reason) before crawling on top of you and pinning you down. You were too stunned, and frankly too scared, to come up with any means of escape, just weakly struggling to throw him off of you to no avail.

“Doppio, please-” You whispered, eyes blurry with tears.

“I talked to the boss, and he helped me figure out what to do. He wants our relationship to succeed after all!” Doppio exclaimed, additude reverted to how he’d first spoken to you. You were confused, you’d neither seen nor heard anyone in or around the room, who was he talking to and how?

“Boss told me that people like you need some discipline in order to be obedient, or you’ll walk all over me. If I can do that, then I can make you love me, and we’ll be happy together, isn’t that what you want?” Doppio told you, stroking your cheek.

“This is not okay, Doppio!” you yell, thrashing against both arms, “Let me go or i’ll-”

...

Wait a minute, both arms?

Then how was he…?

You look over to one side in shock, only to see a floating metallic and red arm holding you down, one on either side. You screamed, overwhelmed by a stalker and strange supernatural forces you couldn’t understand.

“Oh, you can see King Crimson's arms? Interesting, perhaps because of your near death experience with Boss, you can see stands now? Although, it would be bad if you developed a stand, what to do?...” Doppio pondered to himself, speaking apparent babble.

You cried, trying to wake up from this obvious nightmare with no luck.

“Awww, hey y/n, it’s okay, i’m not gonna hurt you! Not if you be good for me and Boss.” Doppio cooed, kissing your cheeks and forehead. “I talked boss into keeping you with us- you’re always so lonely at home, and never have a good time with others, right? You don’t have to lie anymore, I've been watching you for a while. Nobody else seems to, though, they’re too self-absorbed and stupid to realize how incredible you are!” He continued, oblivious to his words not helping, but hurting you.

“You’re perfect for me and boss, we can take really good care of you. Forget this lousy motel, we have mansions and villas all over Italy that we can take holidays to. We have billions of Lira from work, you’ll never have to lift another finger and we’ll pamper you to death. And best of all? You’ll never have to see your awful friends or family again! Isn’t it awful how they treat you? We can get rid of them, so they can’t hurt you!” He finishes, grinning ear to ear, but his eyes hollow and lifeless, staring unblinkingly into yours.

This guy was sick, there was no other word to it. You might have had issues with your family, and yeah your friends could be assholes sometimes, but you didn’t want them killed! What good would that do you, or anyone for that matter?!

Doppio seemed to read your thoughts, “Look, I know it's a lot to take in at once, but trust me. Boss and I have planned this out for a while now, and we’re always going to do what’s best for us, ok? So don’t worry so much, and please stop struggling? Boss warned me if you got too unruly he’d take over and finish what he started last night.

A wave of nausea slithered through you as you remembered, thinking how close you were to dying. You gave up, lying limp on the bed, praying for this to end.

Doppio smiled again, this one almost seeming genuine, and gave you the softest kiss to your lips. It was childish, almost, and he clearly lacked experience, but he gained more confidence from your lack of struggling. With the mysterious hands holding you (stands? King crimson?) his own hands were free to touch you. He started With your cheeks, your face, your hair, your neck, stroking you with feather-light touches, his fingers tracing each curve, digit and flaw like he was trying to memorize it all.

“Finally… I finally get to touch you like this… I’ve been waiting for so long, y/n. Do you know how long I've wanted to hold you?” He whispered, wrapping his arms around your neck, cradling your cheek to his. You didn’t know, and you didn’t want to, but Doppio told you anyway.

“I’ve been watching, waiting...for so long. Following you home from work, listening into your calls, finding your online accounts. I’ve known since I first saw you that you were the one for me, and now I get to prove it to you. I get to show you all the things I've been meaning to do to you. You’ll never be lonely again, not with me around. We’ll never be lonely~”

He giggled the last part, giddy with excitement, as he slid his fingers down your ribcage, your sides, fiddling with the bottom of your shirt. You wriggled, trying to fight him off again, only to your dismay Doppio giggled even harder at your reactions-perhaps because he knew you could never overpower him.

“Ohhh~ still so shy? Don’t be so uptight, y/n, you need to live a little! I know how much you want this; you complain about it all the time on your personal blog-” You could feel the blush on your cheeks heating up your face, desperate to make him shut up, “ How you want someone to have their way with you, to make you forget everything else in life. You’re desperate for someone to truly cherish and understand you; mentally and physically. You want me to love you? You want me to fuck you…? Would that make you happy? Would it make you love me?” Doppio rambled on and on, ripping your shirt off with strength he hadn’t had before.

You yelped, goosebumps forming on your skin as Doppio cackled, rubbing his face on your stomach, and into your cleavage poking out from your bra.

“Yes, let go for me! Show me every emotion, everything you’ve been holding back from me for so long- i need it, I demand it!” He snarled, splitting your nicest bra in half, and biting down on your neck, hard.

You screamed, legs kicking uselessly as the pain blurred your mind and you were operating purely on instinct. Doppio didn’t seem bothered in the least by it, you could still feel his laughter against your sore neck, as he sucked down on it, trying to bruise and mark you. His hands couldn’t help but find their way to your breasts, toying with them and squeezing them with admittedly little expertise. But he was a quick learner, making note of each little gasp and twitch according to how he touched you, and improving his technique from there. He twisted your nipples a bit roughly, already hard from the chilly air and sensitive to touch- you couldn’t help but moan a little in satisfaction. It had been awhile.

Doppio’s moans echoed yours, as he kissed his way down the crevice of your breasts, and licked each nipple in turn. You squirmed, not in fear or anger but pleasure, angry at yourself for letting this strange man win your body over so easily. Doppio kept his eyes on you at all times, studying your face to see how you felt. He’d had to watch you for so long from so far away, alone in your bedroom, or so you thought… it was time to use the knowledge he’d gained to make your body crazy for him.

You jumped at Doppio’s hands, cupping your groin through your pants, trying not to buck into his hands . It was getting harder and harder to deny him, though, why couldn’t you just-?

Doppio pulled your pants down to your ankles, taking your panties with it. He groaned audibly at the sight- your pussy was so wet and dripping, there was still a trail connected to your underwear.

“No, don’t-” You cried, snapping your legs shut, visibly scared at what was taking place again. Doppio was losing patience, crouching down and prying your legs open,

“Stop fighting me, y/n, you clearly want this!” He cried, eye twitching in annoyance. He managed to open your legs again, and buried his face into your pussy. He moaned, licking up a wet stripe against your labia, warm and puffy and so wet for him- he knew you would be, he knew you loved him.

Tears streaked down the sides of your face, this was so much and so intense. Your thighs clamped down on Doppio’s cheeks and neck, squeezing him as hard as you could. Not hard enough, apparently, as he just started giggling again through a full mouth and busy tongue “Ssho good, y/n, why have you been hiding thissh from mee~?” he moaned, tongue circling your clit. You flung your head back into the pillow, gripping the mysterious hands that held you for any source of strength or comfort.

Watching you whimper so pitifully with his head between your legs, obviously blissed out after being so needy and alone for so long, just did things to doppio. He loved the pained, fucked out expression on your face- you couldn’t even keep your eyes open as he snuck one, two fingers into your aching pussy. You whimpered so cutely, and it was all for him and him alone. Finally~

“Y/n, please, i can only hold back for so long, let me make sure it’s not painful… be good for me, please?” Doppio begged, grinding his hips into the mattress before he could help himself. Begrudgingly, you moved your thighs back just enough for Doppio to push them away, when he got a wonderful idea. King crimson, or what Boss had lent him of his stand to use, sensed his thought, and grabbed both your hands in one arm. Doppio pushed your thighs back and up, effectively bending your knees into your chest and displaying your pussy in such a beautiful way. You cried out, surprised by the sudden movements and embarrassed by how exposed you were, but there was nothing you could do about it. Doppio was just too strong.

The other free hand floated down, spreading your lips apart to give Doppio a nice view before pummeling two of his thick, strong fingers inside of you. You screamed, crying as the fingers curled directly into your sweet spot, massaging with robotic-like precision and speed. The sounds you were making were wet, animalistic, and you were quickly brought close to the brink.

“Perfect, y/n! Just like that, let yourself go! It makes me happy to see a side of yourself you never show anyone else- and you never will to anyone but me! Remember, I'm the one making you feel this good, right y/n? You couldn’t possibly find anything half as wonderful from anyone else but me! Me, got it?!” Doppio exclaimed, his voice cracking and becoming much darker, scarier. For a second, you could swear he looked like a different person entirely, wild, angry and dangerous- but you blinked and Doppio was just as before.

Doppio licked his lips, sweating and anxious, this was good enough to make you love him, right? This was what he had to do to make you happy? Boss’s words from before appeared in his head though, and he remembered how Boss had always been right before. Doppio trusted him, and was determined to win you over. Doppio let go of one of your legs-you seemed adequately distracted and restrained to get away from him- and unzipped his fly. In truth, he would’ve preferred to get all the way naked with you for the first time, so you could see and feel the real him as well, but clearly the two of you were too desperate and impatient for him to get fully naked. This time.

You whimpered at the sound of a zipper, feeling the fingers pull out of you. You heard the crinkle of a wrapped, and the muffled groan as Doppio probably rolled a condom onto himself, but you were too afraid to look. The strong floating hand, still wet with your juices, gripped your cheek and forced you to look at Doppio, staring you down with much more restraint and calm than he had been. Doppio kissed your cheek, then your lip, and pushed his warm cock achingly slowly, gently, into your waiting pussy.

You couldn’t help yourself from moaning, grabbing at the hands that held you, thrusting yourself onto Doppio’s hard and hot cock. He bit his lip, feeling you twitch and squeeze around him; he was trying so hard to be gentle for you, why were you still making things so difficult. He chuckled to himself, and motioned for King Crimson to let you go; finally you were beginning to relax and enjoy yourself, and he wanted to enjoy every bit of it.

Without thinking, you wrapped your arms around Doppio, holding him close to you. Your mind was a mess, your body even messier, you didn’t know what to think or do about your abducter/rapist fucking you so tenderly, and you were tired of fighting. So you let him fuck you, slowly and gently and way way emotionally. Doppio wiped away new tears you hadn’t realized were there, shushing you, “It’s okay, my sweet y/n. Just relax and let me do the work. Don’t fight it any more, just let go.” He whispered, pressing kisses into your lips and cheeks far too sweetly.

So you did, you relaxed and sank into the mattress, pulling Doppio down with you. He let go of your thighs, and held you tightly to him as he fucked-no, made love to you. He gradually picked up the pace, huffing and whispering words of admiration to you about your body, or how much he adored you. You took it all limply, the fight having gone out of you and desperate for comfort. The floating arms, which you had forgotten about, reappeared and stimulated your nipples and clit, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

Doppio sped up as well, he knew this would have to end, but he wanted to make it last as long as possible. This was your first time together, after all. He wanted to make it special. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper and closer into you. You could feel the spongy head of his dick rub your inside so sweetly, you were starting to get addicted to the feeling. Doppio buried his head into your neck, mumbling nonsense as he pushed in deeper and deeper, faster and faster, as his restraint gave way to passion.

“Y/n I- I don’t know how much longer I can last, but-” He kissed you, as the stroking of your clit sped up. You groaned loudly, you were so close, “Just a bit longer, please~” You begged, biting your lip. Doppio took a deep breath, steeling himself as he was determined to make you come first. He pounded into you, urging you closer and closer, four sets of hands circling your body and drawing out noises and gasps from you out of your control.

“Almost there, please, almost~!!!” You cried, throwing your head back with a final sigh as you came hard and fast, your core heating up and washing over you as Doppio helped you ride it out with clit rubs. Your walls fluttering around him, the face that you made as you came from him, for him, it was too much and he quickly filled his condom inside of you, moaning even louder than you had as he thrust without abandon into your wonderful, most precious place. He didn’t want to stop, thrusting almost to the point of overstimulation, before he had to stop, and collapsed on top of you. He cooed and kissed his praises and thanks into your shoulder and skin, before he noticed the soft sound of you snoring. Poor thing, he chuckled to himself, you’d really worked yourself up.

He reluctantly pulled out, after indulging in 5 minutes of cuddling your sleeping body and listening to your heartbeat. Doppio cleaned the two of you off, and tucked you into the covers of the motel- now would be a good time to set up moving you into your new home. After all, The whole reason you were in the motel is because the moving company Boss had hired to move your things into the main base would take several hours to complete their job, and Boss didn’t want anyone seeing you or Doppio at home. Doppio ruffled your hair as you slept, pulling out his cellphone to check in with Boss and give him the full update he’d requested.

Tonight was going to be very busy.

#sluttbuttstuff #fic #mine #jjba #jojos bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #vento aureo #golden wind #doppio #vinegar doppio #yandere #reader #yandere x reader #doppio x reader #not sfw #yandere prompts

234 notes · View notes

kisskeiji · 4 years ago

Text

7. Lottery.

Lost & Found.

WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol and smoking, like one mention of sex (i think) and atsumu being sentimental.

Winter was your favorite season. You would always stay in for the holidays and spend the winter break at home. Iwaizumi never understood why you enjoyed sleeping with nothing but your underwear and a pair of fuzzy socks if you were going to sleep with three covers anyway, you loved the cold and everything that came with it. Your wardrobe was always full of sweaters and coats and your shared apartment was carefully decorated with things you collected over the years.

Now they remained in the box where you left them the last christmas you spent with him, untouched, since he wasn’t one to celebrate especially now that he is spending the season by himself, refusing to go home with Hanamaki. He still missed you and he tried to do everything he could to get you out of his mind, he even worked on Christmas day but couldn’t stop thinking about you and how you would be wandering around the kitchen cooking dinner for your friends, but he ruined it. You weren’t with him and it was all his fault and he hated it.

There was no one else to blame, but his pride and jealousy tried to blame you too, convincing himself it was your fault too for running away, for not facing him, for moving on before him. Ever since he called you that night and another guy answered the phone his chest tightened to the thought of you with another man. His friends tried to set him up with several women but he never caved in, he didn’t wanted to give himself another chance, he wanted you, and if he couldn’t have you then there was no other person for him, you were the one, and he knew that since you started dating but he gave in to his selfish needs.

It was New Year’s Eve and his boss urged him to take a break. He had no other plans, he called his parents and texted his best friends wishing them a happy New Year because he was going to sleep early that night. Someone knocked on the door when he was on his way to the shower. Hanamaki and Matsukawa greeted him when he opened the door.

“At least act like you are glad to see us.” Matsukawa said.

“I thought you guys were in Miyagi.”

“Yeah, but we knew you were going to mope around all day so we came to see you.” Hanamaki sat on the couch.

“Iwaizumi-san!” Kindaichi entered the apartment along with Kunimi and Watari.

“You guys too?” He asked, hugging all of them, his mood slowly getting better.

“Yahaba and Kyotani are coming too.” Watari informed him before walking to the kitchen to drop the bags of takeout they all brought. “We thought a team reunion would pick you up.”

“You didn’t have to, guys.” Iwaizumi took his laptop and a few papers that were on the coffee table to make some room.

“But you need it.” Kunimi said with evident concern. Iwaizumi’s expression softened and his eyes watered, still wishing you were there but certainly not alone anymore, his friends still cared for him.

“Don’t tell me you are crying!” Matsukawa teased him with an arm around his shoulders.

“Of course not, you idiot, I’m just happy you are all here.” Everyone laughed at him, the ever so indifferent Iwaizumi almost crying was a rare sight, but warmth ran through everyone’s veins in that moment.

Just like Watari promised, Yahaba and Kyotani joined shortly after, with tons of beer and baked goods Kyotani cooked for everyone. Hours passed, sharing laughs and reminiscing their high school days, the alcohol started to get the best of them, even Kunimi was cracking jokes every now and then, a few cigarette ends scattered around the table and empty plates piled on the sink. Iwaizumi laid back on the couch and stared at the ceiling, longing for something.

“Makki told me you tried to call her.” Matsukawa said casually, lighting another cigarette. Iwaizumi sighed and looked at him inhale the smoke.

“I did, but we didn’t talk.” Matsukawa raised an eyebrow. “A guy picked up the phone and I hung up.” Iwaizumi heard a ‘tsk’ from Matsukawa.

“That’s tough. But she has never mentioned anything about dating when we talk, maybe it was just a friend.” Issei reasoned and Iwaizumi nodded, still unsure.

“Have you seen her recently?” Iwaizumi asked.

“We went out the last time she went to Miyagi a few weeks ago. My girl loves her.” Matsukawa took out his phone from the back of his pocket and tapped the screen a few times before showing a picture of his girlfriend and you at some bar, smiling brightly at the camera, cheeks flushed and drinks on the table. Iwaizumi smiled to himself, you looked beautiful yet different, a different kind of light shined in your eyes. “She’s doing great.”

“I miss her.” Words weren’t enough to describe how much he was hurting.

“I know, but you need to get over her, she already figured things out, you can’t hold to the past any longer. What you did was dick move, but give yourself a chance, you don’t have to date right now but try to get yourself out there, have fun and please get some. I’m begging you.” The last comment earned him a smack on the back of his head from Iwaizumi.

“How do you know I’m not getting any? You don’t live here anymore.” Iwaizumi questioned.

“Because Makki won’t stop bitching about your attitude.” Matsukawa explained and brought the cigarette back to his lips and laughed at Iwaizumi’s frown, exhaling the smoke in the opposite direction of his friends. “It’s almost midnight.” He announced.

“Yeah you are right.” Iwaizumi looked back at the rest of the guys currently crowding his living room, smiling to himself once again. “Thanks.” He paused and looked at the former middle blocker. “For this, I mean, I really needed it.”

“Always.” Matsukawa gave him a pat on his shoulder and smiled, he still had hope for Iwaizumi and he wished nothing but the best for his friend, even if you were not together anymore, both of you deserved to be happy.

Meanwhile in some five star hotel in Tokyo, you struggled to check-in, with a small suitcase and a dress bag hanging on your shoulder, you tried to make the receptionist understand you were part of the required staff for the night and not a reporter trying to get in, but you forgot your team ID. Hideko was nowhere to be seen and none of your higher ups were staying at the same hotel. You were screwed until someone could prove you were in fact working that night and you were losing precious time to get ready, you had less than 6 hours before the party started.

“Is there a problem?” You heard someone ask from behind you. Meian and his girlfriend walked to the counter and the receptionist’s attitude changed instantly, he explained the situation politely to the two of them while sparing you a nasty side eye when they referred to you.

“Meian-senshu, please tell them I work with you, they won’t let me check-in and I forgot my ID. My name is on the reservation but they refuse to give me my room.” You pleaded, your dress bag feeling heavier with every minute.

“Y/N does work with the Black Jackals, I assume you know who I am, please let her in, she’s coming to the party too.” He pointed at the access pass on your wrist.

“I’m really sorry, ma’am, I will register you right now.” The receptionist typed quickly and gave you the room key. Sighing heavily you thanked Meian for his help as he checked-in himself. His girlfriend started a small chat with you about what you would wear tonight, she was really excited to wear her gown and complemented yours.

“You are going to break hearts tonight, Y/N!” She teased.

“Well if your dress is how I imagine it is then Meian-senshu is taking two awards tonight.”

“You are not wrong.” Meian added, sneaking his arm around her waist and passed her the key. “Eleventh floor.” He said as she held the card. “Atsumu isn’t here yet?” He asked and you shrugged.

“I don’t know, I’ve been here for a good thirty minutes and I didn’t see him come in.” You explained. “Bokuto is not here either.” Meian hummed.

“I’ll give them a call before we go up to our room, they are always late to these things.”

“They are always late.” You corrected him and he laughed. “See you at the party.” You said before making your way to the elevator, wanting nothing but to get to your room and take a shower.

Your room was rather big, but definitely not a suite, there were two beds, a desk and a closet right beside the bathroom door, and you had a really nice view of the city. Once you hung up your dress you walked to the window and stared at the city, the sunset claiming the sky and the city lights started to shine brighter. You missed Tokyo. Is not like Osaka was boring or anything, but Tokyo brought memories from your first days of college and all the friends you left behind. Sighing, you turned back and opened your suitcase to get the things you needed to shower and get ready.

You styled your hair right after showering and did your makeup heavier than usual, you needed to be ready at least two hours before the actual party to have a small meeting with Hideko and the other teams management and make it in time for the red carpet. Struggling to zip your dress by yourself and accepting that you got half a size too small with your shoes again, you were at the door adjusting your earpiece, holding your clutch bag under your arm just in time to meet Hideko and the Jackals assistant coach in the elevator. “The red carpet shouldn’t take long, I’m trying to call everyone so they can get in at once, Y/N I’ll leave them to you.” Hideko ran you through. “Two minutes on the mark, two or three questions and done, you get in once they are all set.”

“Got it.” You assured her.

“Great.” She sighed in relief. “There’s an after party tomorrow, the big boss wants to have brunch with everyone.” She emphasized the word ‘brunch’ to make it sound fancier and she rolled her eyes. “It is mandatory.” She said before you could ask.

“I’ll be there then.” The door opened and you stepped out to meet a few people that told you the same thing Hideko said earlier, you talked to some acquaintances from other teams that were told to manage the red carpet along with you.

“I’m going to strangle them, every single one of those volleyball players.” Hideko gripped her phone in her hands and you laughed. “They are all going to be late.” She massaged her temples and stomped her heels loudly, you could tell her stress was getting the best out of her. “Can you call Atsumu? I’m sure he’ll pick up if he sees it is you.” You complied to her request and dialed Atsumu’s number and turned the speaker on. After three rings he greeted you.

“Hey, beautiful.” Your cheeks turned pink at the nickname.

“You can flirt later, Romeo, now tell me why you won’t pick up your damn phone.” She gritted her teeth and you cringed. She walked away with your phone as she gave Atsumu instructions to gather all of his teammates and meet her at the lobby. She gave you back your phone and practically ran to the lobby to wait for them. You decided to kill time talking to some people from the event management. After twenty minutes or so, the reporters and paparazzis were lined up in front of the step and repeat and you heard Hideko calling you from your earpiece. ‘They are ready, we go first. I’ll send them one by one, remember, they go first and then their plus one.’

You got yourself in position to receive the players, Inunaki was the first to walk in, you smiled at him and walked right behind him, setting him on the mark and stepping aside to let the photographers do their job. Repeating the same process with everyone from the team and their partners, you were ready to set the last three players, Atsumu, Bokuto and Sakusa.

“You look so good, Y/N!” Bokuto exclaimed when he saw you, Akaashi trailing behind.

“You two look amazing too!” You checked their outfits up and down. Both of them had tuxedos, Bokuto wore a dark grey suit that matched his hair and Akaashi a classic jet black, hair slicked back and their colognes mixed if you were standing too close.

“Akaashi helped me with my tie.” He said proudly and looked at his boyfriend who smiled back at him.

“Are you alright?” Akaashi asked.

“I must look rough, huh?” You chuckled and he rolled his eyes. “My shoes are killing me and I walked on this carpet twenty times already, I don’t think I’ll make it to the end of the night.” You held Bokuto’s bicep. “You ready?” You asked and they both nodded and you guided them to the marks on the step and repeat, Bokuto answered all of the questions cheerfully, excited for his nominations. Once he was done and you were at the entrance, Akaashi tapped your shoulder and made you look back.

You saw Atsumu talking with Sakusa, their tall figures standing out from the crowd of distressed staff surrounding them, you made sure Bokuto and Akaashi were in before walking to them. Atsumu noticed you coming up to him and shamelessly checked you out —you weren’t that subtle either— smiling brightly once you were in front of him. “Who wants to go first?” You asked.

“I’ll do it, I want to get over with this as soon as possible.” Kiyoomi huffed, taking his mask off and throwing it in the nearest trash can. “Let's go.” As always you walked him to the mark and waited for him to answer a few questions. Kiyoomi was a great actor, his stance and expression changed as soon as he faced the interviewers, answering calmly and politely. Atsumu was laughing his ass off, knowing that his friend was most likely planning how to get away from the ceremony, maybe faking a headache or even a fainting. You signaled Atsumu to start walking as Sakusa said his goodbyes to the press, you stepped back when Atsumu made it to the white cross mark on the floor and announced you were done with the red carpet on your radio.

All of the reporters called for Atsumu, yelling questions and complimenting him, he smiled lazily with his hands in his pockets.

“No plus one tonight, Miya?” Atsumu laughed at the question.

“My mom was busy” A few of them laughed with him, but it was barely noticeable, the sounds of clicks and flashes from the cameras filled the area.

“A young man like you showing alone at these events is hard to believe, you sure you don’t have a special someone, Miya-senshu?”

Atsumu looked at you for less than a second and you saw clearly how his smile widened. “Maybe next time, guys.” He said, looking at you once again waiting for his queue to go, you nodded and he made his way to the main entrance, you following behind. “You look stunning, by the way.” He said as he walked past you when you held the door open for him to get in, you stared at his back until he was out of sight. Hideko dismissed you after that, so you could enjoy the party with the rest of the staff, she promised to join you later to have a drink because according to her, you deserved it.

The rest of the teams invited to the ceremony were still coming in, but the salon was already filled with people, from sponsors to team owners, and some volleyball legends you recognized from the countless rambles Bokuto and Atsumu absorbed you in. It was different, it felt different, it wasn’t until that moment you realized the turn your career took after joining the team, it was crazy to think that you were part of this world now. A few taps on your shoulder were enough to snap you back to reality, Aran and Hana greeted you warmly and they looked amazing with Aran’s tie matching Hana’s red dress. “I think I’ll never get used to this.” She said and you agreed. Aran got abducted by some other players and you were left alone with her, the bar was conveniently close to you, so you opted to get something to drink to start the night. “Where’s Atsumu?” She asked.

“I have no idea, he walked in and I lost him, maybe with the rest of the team” You pointed to a table near the center where most of the team members sat, waiting for the ceremony to start. He was indeed sitting with coach Foster and Barnes, laughing fondly and having their first glass of wine. You smiled to yourself in satisfaction, everything was going well, and hopefully everyone would take an award home.

“That man over there is totally checking you out.” Hana said and you turned your head back to see her. “To your left.” As soon as you looked where she told you, you felt your soul leave your body and come back right after.

“I’ll be back in a second.” You announced and walked towards the man that was ‘totally checking you out’. “Don’t you know staring is rude?”

“Oh shut up, I couldn’t recognize you from here.” He defended himself. “I forgot my glasses at home.” You hugged him.

“You’ll never learn.” Giggling he nudged your shoulder and stepped back to have a better view of your face. “My friend thought you were checking me out.”

“Come on, I have higher standards.” He teased. “Where 's Bokuto? He said to meet him here earlier.”

“He’s with the team, over there.” You pointed with your head and he hummed when he saw the grey haired man standing next to his boyfriend, talking with people you didn’t knew. You caught a glance of his smirk before he said:

“Does everyone here greet you with death stares or is it only that guy walking over here?” Kuroo asked. You turned your head back to see Atsumu approaching you, pushing past all the people that tried to intersect him on his way to you.

“Hey, uh, Hideko is looking for you.” He lied, you looked at him weird, you were pretty sure that Hideko was busy talking with the event management.

“That’s weird, she would’ve rang me if she needed me.” You said showing your radio. Picking up on his jealousy tantrum by the way he was standing protectively in front of you, you grabbed his arm and pushed him to the side and made him turn around. “Kuroo, this is Miya Atsumu. Tsumu, this is my best friend Kuroo, the one I talked you about before.” Atsumu’s frown softened a bit but he was still suspicious — and jealous— about Kuroo and his smug grin.

“Kuroo Tetsuro, I work with the institution.” He extended his hand and Atsumu did the same.

“When you say it like that you almost sound important.” You mocked.

“That’s because I am important, baby.” Kuroo said, knowing exactly what he was doing by using that pet name. “Now, I’ll leave you both to it, I need to talk with Bokuto.” He excused himself and you were left alone with Atsumu, with your hand still on his arm, you walked him to the bar where Hana waited for you.

“What was that about?” You asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I saw a suspicious man near you and I thought you needed help.” He shrugged.

“Yeah, right, there’s nothing suspicious about Kuroo, he’s an idiot, don’t mind him.” You reassured him. “That was my best friend, not a man checking me out.” You said to Hana when you made it back to her side.

“He looks like a pervert.” Hana admitted.

“See? I’m not the only one who thought there was something wrong with him.” Atsumu looked at you with wide eyes. The lights dimmed and the last call before the ceremony started was heard. “This is going to start soon, let’s take our seats.” You accompanied Hana to the Red Falcons table and then headed to your team’s seats with Atsumu’s hand in yours at all times, unbuttoning his jacket he sat right beside you.

“Are you nervous?” You asked him.

“Not in the slightest.” He lied to you for the second time that night. He was terrified, he didn’t wanted to lose the award, especially in front of you.

“I hope you prepared an acceptance speech.” He sighed soundly and squeezed your hand.

“No need, Tobio-kun is here, that award is his.” He sounded defeated, it was your turn to give his hand a squeeze. While you knew many sides of Atsumu he didn’t show often, you weren’t familiar with his pessimist persona, it was a sight you didn’t like at all, defeat wasn’t a good look on him.

“Stop that, award or not, you are still one of the best setters in the country and no one can change that.” He let go of your hand to call the waiter to get you whatever you wanted to drink, whining for your long forgotten gimlet you left behind when you were talking to Kuroo, you asked for water. “You made me waste a drink.”

“I didn’t do anything, you are the forgetful one here.” Your banter was cut short by Adriah’s voice, the ceremony started without the two of you noticing.

“It’s an honor to be hosting the twenty-seventeen Volleyball Association Awards. Tonight the best players of all three divisions will be rewarded for their performance during the last two seasons. How are you feeling tonight, Komori?” Adriah looked at the EJP Raijin’s Libero.

“Thank you for that introduction, Adriah, and I’m really excited to see who will win in each category, and speaking of, our categories for tonight are: coach, setter, middle blocker, wing spiker and libero of the year; best captain, and best new comer.” A screen behind both hosts showed the nominations at the same time Komori listed them.

“Both men's and women’s leagues will be presented by our wonderful co-hosts, let’s get started with our first nomination, we leave you with Tsukasa Iizuna from the Deseo Hornets.” Adriah and Komori walked out the stage after shaking hands with Iizuna. He introduced the nominees for wing spiker of the year.

After an hour or so, Inunaki was the only one in the team with an award, sadly Meian lost to Fukuro Hirugami and Suna won best newcomer over Bokuto and Sakusa. “Presenting the setter of the year nominees, Kanoka Amanai, wing spiker of the women’s National Volleyball Team for the 2016 olympics and the Hisamitsu Springs.” Komori introduced a tall girl in a beautiful yellow dress, she smiled nervously and held the envelope with the winner tightly.

“A lot of people often think that us spikers do all the job at scoring points, but the truth is, that setters are the ones that rule the court from both sides, we wouldn’t be anything without our setters. That’s why I’m honored to present to you the nominees for the setter of the year award.” The screen in the back showed pictures and the names from each nominee, Atsumu’s name right beside Kageyama’s.

“And the winner is…” Kanoka said, opening the envelope. “Miya Atsumu, from the MSBY Black Jackals.” She read after a few seconds and everyone cheered. Atsumu looked at you with wide eyes and hugged you instinctively. The rest of the team practically dragged him out of his seat to receive his award. He almost tripped trying to hug Aran on his way to the stage but he made it eventually. He took the golden statue in one hand and stood in front of the microphone with his mouth agape and laughing nervously.

“Wow.” He said, now wishing he prepared an acceptance speech. “This is unbelievable, really. I didn’t expect to win something like this in my first year playing professionally.” He looked at the statue and then back to the crowd. “ Sometimes I push myself too hard for the sake of my team and the weight of losing is always devastating, especially playing this position, but I’m thankful to everyone. My teammates, coach Foster and our management for trusting me and pushing me to do my best. I also want to thank my friends and my brother, who is not here tonight, but he was the best spiker I’ve ever had and the one that trained with me everyday since we were kids, I know he is going to see this, so, thank you ‘Samu, I wouldn’t be here without you.” He was talking really fast and barely breathing. “This means a lot to me, thank you so much.” He finished and the crowd cheered for him, your table was the loudest of them all.

He walked back to his seat where everyone waited to congratulate him but he went straight to you and hugged you again, tighter this time. “I told you that you were going to win. I’m so proud of you.” You said before breaking the hug.

“Thank you.” His eyes were watery and his lip quivered. You made him turn to celebrate with his teammates before he cried and everyone gave him aggressive pats on his back and teased him for being so cheesy. He was happy. So happy he couldn’t stop smiling even when the ceremony ended.

The party went on smoothly but it was quite boring, everyone wandered around the room talking and congratulating the winners, you grew tired of following Hideko around, big parties weren’t your thing if you were honest. You excused yourself and found your way to a huge balcony that worked as an outdoor smoking lounge. The cold air against your skin made you regret your decisions but it was too late to back down. You placed your hands on the railing and tried to get used to the freezing weather, looking down, you saw a restaurant across the street, the customers wore hats and drank happily celebrating the new year. Right. It was New Year’s Eve. After your realization you checked the hour.

11:47 P.M.

“What are you doing here?” Atsumu asked and closed the door behind him. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“I needed some air.” You stated.

“Aren’t you cold?” You felt his breath on your ear and smiled.

“Not really.” You said turning around. He knew you were lying.“Why are you here? You should be celebrating.” You fixed his tie as you spoke, your eyes met his. Taking a better look of his face you smiled to yourself. Atsumu was stunning. Sure he looked good everyday but tonight it was different, it was maybe the tuxedo or the victorious smile gracing his face, he was the definition of beauty, in its purest form; happiness.

“Got bored, and I wanted to ask you something.” He explained and placed his hands on their usual spot on your hips.

“Oh god, please tell me you are not asking me out on New Year’s Eve.” you hooked your arms around his neck and played with the back of his hair.

“That’s exactly what I’m doing, now shut up and let me make this special.” He tried to bring you closer to him and looked at the moon for a second. “I know it has been hard for you to give yourself another chance to live your life like you want to, and you don’t know how thankful I am for being a part of it. I also know your last boyfriend was an asshole and hurted you beyond repair”

“Well that’s a way to put it.” You interrupted him and laughed.

“Let me finish.” He laughed along with you. “I promise you, I will treat you so much better if you let me. I know maybe I’m not what you are looking for but you are all I want.” He was sincere, you could tell by the way his eyes pierced into you, eagerly waiting for you to say something.

“I don’t know where you got that from, but you are wrong, ‘Tsumu. You are all I want too.” You looked at him with the same intensity but you had tears in your eyes. He didn’t waste another second and kissed you. It was long, and passionate, and loving. He wanted to tell you everything he couldn’t with that kiss.

He was yours.

“Now I’m the real winner tonight.” He joked when he pulled apart.

“Shut up.” You kissed him again before he could say something stupid.

“Are we interrupting something?” Aran and Suna peaked from the door. “Get in before the countdown starts.” Suna ordered without waiting for an answer, you did as he said, walking hand in hand with Atsumu, something that wasn’t strange for you but this time it was different, because he was yours.

You had to walk faster to stand with your friends and some team members and the countdown started. Ten. Everyone chanted excitedly to receive the new year.

Nine, eight, seven, six.

“Ready?” Atsumu asked, staring at you lovingly.

Five

“I am. But what if I don’t want this to end?”

Four

“Too late for that, babe, let’s make the most out of this year too.” He kissed the back of your hand and giggled. “Let’s ditch this party first.”

Three

“Please.” You agreed and looked around to spot your friends standing near you with glasses full of champagne.

Two

He brought you closer to him with his hand on the small of your back, lips painfully close to yours.

One

“Happy new year, Y/N.”

“Happy new year, ‘Tsumu.” With that said, he gave you a New Year’s kiss you’ll never forget, once again telling you that he was yours.

And you were his.

(a/n: look who finally came back!! the worst writer ever. so uhm, i literally have no excuse this time, depression has been kicking my ass lately and i had a huge creative block, there was nothing going on in my head, it was just me and mitski against the world. anyways, there you have it, iwaizumi being miserable and a wholesome seijoh reunion without oikawa because he is booked and busy. ALSO !!! ATSUMU!!! WHAT THE HECK MARRY ME IM SO IN LOVE WITH HIM. and no i don’t know what complying to canon is, im sorry kageyama but it was atsumu’s moment to shine, you’ll get it next year... or not. tell me if you liked this chapter, i love reading y’all. i hope everyone is safe and healthy, remember to take time for yourself and that atsumu is the only man ever!!)

masterlist

TAGLIST (closed): @aonenthusiast @wiseeggspickleslime @koushisun @airheadpillar @sunflwrsandprettyskies @bbkiyoomi @daphnxy @shephard17895 @avatarkyoshithewarrior @for-rebloggery @vv-bee999-vv vv @fi16ns @asdfghjkl7things @glassykaashi @strawhatshepard @hawkssnugget @msby-kei @toobsessedsstuff @a-moon-fairy @cuteissei @ramblingsofagoofyperson @pinoyrella @kiyoomisimp

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cowboyjen68 · 4 years ago

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Hey jen first off congrats on your new tshirt lol but also, do you know of any lesbians that truly didn’t realize they were gay or different until they were much older? i didnt realize I might be gay until I was 19 and even then, there was SEVERE self doubt cus I was well aware how my abusive father had and continues to completely warp and destroy how I view, trusted (i didnt and still dont) and interacted (i didnt and still dont) with cishetero men. Like I’m scared my sexuality is just a massive trauma response. Growing up I had a lot of what i thought were crushes on guys but a lot of times the ‘crushes’ were just me wanting to get their attention and be their friend. I did have a few “romantic” ones but again those men were completely unattainable and theres was no chance we’d ever date or that they’d ever pay me any attention and i...................took comfort in that. it wasnt until I was 19 that i had my first crush (or first that i was aware of) on a girl, but she was straight. and It wasnt until I got my first crush on another lesbian, at age 22 (im 26 now) that it truly smacked me in the face - I was literally losing sleep over this girl, I could barely hold a conversation without blushing and stuttering, hearing her voice or seeing her walk by made my stomach perform a simone biles floor routine, but when she smiled at or complimented me id be smiling goofily for the rest of the day. Then i found out she had a gf and my heart dropped to my ass and while I hate to admit it, i felt the petty jealousy and envy bubbling up to the surface (but i absolutely never acted on it cus i knew the feelings were irrational and silly). Like I felt like I was back in middle school and like.......a guy has NEVER brought that intensity of emotions out of me. The first time I slept with a woman I loved it, and continue to love it and i know this paragraph is painting a massive picture of “yes you fucking idiot you are gay” but when i talk to or hear stories from other lesbians, I can never relate or align to that feeling of “knowing I was different since I was young”, I had 0 clue up until my 20s. that paired with my upbringing, plus smaller traumas here and there also centered around men..........like im truly scared that the day i fully heal is the day I’m gonna realize my sexuality is a lie. and its a big reason (besides mental and emotional instability) i avoid relationships even though i want one cus i dont wanna put another girl through hell just cus i cant figure MY shit out you know? Like this sounds so childish but I wish there was like an entrance exam or something that you can take and itll give you some type of definitive answer like: “yes youre gay”, “nope straight”, “maybe? need more info/experience” or “pls for the love of god go to therapy”

Ok.. first. yeah.. therapy can be great.. even for healthy, well adjusted people.

BUT:

Once of the reasons I didn't know "what" i was is because I had no exposure to role models that looked like me. No one to show me what life might look like besides what I saw with my mom and dad, the neighbors mom and dad, my uncles and aunts.. the man woman kids model. I had no words or word for my experience and not really any idea there was any option.

I knew was different especially once puberty hit, there was just no way for me to know how I was different or to know I wouldn't outgrow the "phase".

I always say, it is not necessary for any of us to have intimacy or sex with someone in order to have that "awakening" of our sexuality and I believe that. However, sometimes that little touch, kiss, tingly feeling can push us more towards our admitting it to ourselves sooner rather than later.

We all have different reasons to be unsure. In a neutral world it wouldn't matter, we would be attracted to whomever we are attracted to and that would be that. BUT the world is not neutral and figuring out out sexual orientation is important because it helps us fine our "safe" community in an often hostile world. Sadly that means we have to sort out our feelings, our experiences, social media and media and lots of lies and inconsistencies to separate that from for our innate sexual attraction. It is not always clear what is attraction, true passion and what is imposed upon us from outside pressure.

The good news is there is no time line and no shame in being wrong. Our innate sexuality does not change but our understanding of it does as we gain experience and get to know ourselves. Follow your heart. Do not date for others, date for yourself. You don’t need to know for sure to enjoy figuring it out.

I can also tell you that I know lesbians my age who married men, had kids and had okay lives. It never occurred to them they were lesbians... then small things crept in. They realized what they thought was love was friendship. What they thought was passion was going through the motions. Then, one day, they met other lesbians, saw other lesbians and realized they had mistaken “finding a nice man” for love. and attraction.

Don’t worry about the opinions of others. They don’t have any right to judge you or your past or your dating life. You are allowed to be wrong and to reevaluate yourself. I have a feeling that once you allow yourself to trust yourself you will figure things out much faster.

When you are ready to date you will not be too much for the right woman. Somehow all those things you think will be too hard for another will not be for someone with whom you click. It is also okay to not be ready to date. To take time for yourself.

#lesbian #dating #sexualtiy

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here4theheartbreak · 4 years ago

Text

Crowded Busses & Sleepy Bunnies (NamKook)

AO3 Link Here!

✩ Relationships: Jeon Jungkook x Kim Namjoon (Namkook ✩ Genre(s): Fluff

✩ Rating: General ✩ Tags: fluff, getting together, Halloween costumes ✩ Summary: Namjoon hates Halloween. But that opinion might change when that very holiday changes his life.

✩ Word Count: ~3.2k ✩ A/N: Fulfills the square ‘Scary Masks’ for @btsholidaybingo

Halloween was the worst holiday in the world. Namjoon had outgrown the begging for candy relatively quickly, and parties had never been his thing. He was just awkward enough to make them unpleasant, and once his friends had all found their partners, it was even worse. He couldn’t even rely on them to save him from the awkwardness; he was just the third or fifth wheel.

All told, knowing that, it shouldn’t have been surprising to Namjoon that he’d forgotten it was Halloween. But he’d been working late and hadn’t thought to check his phone. So, when he got on the bus to go home at nearly midnight and found it full of people in costumes, he was surprised to say the least.

Namjoon pushed his way through the piles of drunk partygoers, finally snagging a seat on a crowded bench as the bus began to move. He hugged his bag to his chest, pulling his phone out to attempt to maneuver his headphones into his ears. Every time he moved though, the bus jostled, or the people did, sending his belongings – and his body – nearly flying into one of the many individuals attempting to stay upright around him.

He huffed and crammed his phone back into his bag, opting instead to people watch. Creature watch was more like it tonight. To his right was a witch with a long green nose wrapped in the arms of her sumo wrestler boyfriend. Namjoon hoped it was a boyfriend with the way he was biting the green paint right off her neck.

A vampire with crooked teeth was tucked into the corner of the bench on the opposite side of the bus, his eyes red rimmed from either alcohol or tears. A handful of Spidermen were scattered throughout the bus, and one Anpanman; hope nobody needed a crime fighter tonight. At the front of the bus was a morbidly obese pirate, and nearby him was a scantily clad police officer. Closest to Namjoon were clearly another couple; a sweet looking bunny with a stunning carrot sitting on his lap.

Namjoon dropped his head back against the window, sighing. This was going to be a long ride. Namjoon normally didn’t mind the length of the bus ride from his office to his apartment. He was nearly the last stop. It gave him time to decompress and relax before he reached his home, making it a truly relaxing and safe space for him.

He would certainly need a relaxing space after this ride. Much to his relief, people began to filter off the bus as it drove through the city, allowing Namjoon slowly more breathing room. He was finally able to pull out his cell phone, popping in one earbud as he finally responded to his his friend’s text messages.

Namjoon barely registered the male figure plopping down next to him. He glanced over, seeing a horrifying rabbit rather than a human face. The mask was startlingly realistic; as realistic as Namjoon supposed a fake creature could be. It had long, soft looking white furry ears, splattered with what looked blood and bits of flesh. Namjoon took a longer peek, seeing dark red eyes. The mouth was opened to reveal rows of sharp teeth with the comical two front bunny teeth, splattered with blood and gore across its mouth area. The boy wore a plain long sleeved white shirt covered in bloodstains and a pair of white jeans in a similar state. He had on fuzzy white bunny paw gloves. Namjoon wondered what sort of person would think it was funny to dress in such a way for a Halloween costume. Surely someone demented, right? He tried not to let it bother him, facing forward again.

It was difficult not to notice, however, when the boy’s head fell to the side, resting on Namjoon’s shoulder. He tensed, unsure what to do. The boy’s head was heavy, his body lax on the seat, he was most definitely sleeping. What were Namjoon’s options? He could shove the kid off him, he was sure, but the person next to the boy looked far less friendly. He could move, but then the boy would fall and potentially hurt his head. Namjoon glanced at his phone. Only another ten or so stops, he figured. And the boy would surely wake up when it was his stop. Not so bad, he could be a pillow for a sleepy kid for that long, right?

So Namjoon didn’t move. The boy leaned more against him, and Namjoon could feel firm arm muscles under the thin shirt the boy wore. He wondered how old he was. He looked too big to be a child, but only someone young would pick a costume like that, right? Namjoon supposed he was young himself, but he’d never wear something so horrifying. Though – he wasn’t exactly a normal person in regards to that sort of thing.

His mind wandered as the stops went past, the warm body of the boy on his shoulder soothing in a way Namjoon hadn’t expected. He was so tired of being alone. He wondered what it would be like to be dating someone, have them doze like this on him, while watching a movie or heading on the bus home from some fun night out. He envied his friends and their partners in a way. He hoped, maybe someday, he could get his head out of his work and pursue that happiness he longed for. But that was far off, he knew. Right now he needed to focus on his career. Sure, if something fell into his lap he’d pay attention – he wasn’t blind – but he couldn’t take the time to seek out a lover at this point in his life.

The bunny boy shifted, his hand falling onto Namjoon’s thigh. Namjoon chuckled a little, saying nothing. Boy must be tired. The robotic bus voice echoed another stop upcoming, and the bunny boy jerked up.

“Did they say Mokdongseo-Ro?” He asked, his voice muffled by the rabbit mask. Namjoon nodded.

“Yeah, he just called it.”

“Crap.” The boy yanked the cord at the last second and the bus jerked to a stop. The boy was thrown almost into Namjoon’s lap, apologizing repeatedly.

Namjoon laughed and shook his head. “No problem.” He watched as the boy rose and rushed over to the door of the bus. Namjoon chuckled a little, noticing a little fluffy white tail attached to the back of the boy’s jeans. He sighed when the bus began to move, shifting over to set his bag in the spot the boy had abandoned.

“Oh—” A beat up brown wallet sat in the seat. The boy must have dropped it in his rush to get off the bus. Namjoon scooped it up, chewing his lip. He could leave it, he supposed. But that didn’t feel right. The boy sounded relatively young, and there could be something important in that wallet. Without thinking on it too long, Namjoon scooped it up and dropped it into his backpack. He sat back, watching the street as it neared his stop.

Namjoon showered and fell into bed almost at once when he got home the bunny boy’s wallet momentarily forgotten.

The next morning, Namjoon puttered around, readying himself for the day. He didn’t need to go into the office this weekend, much to his relief, so he was able to take some time to himself before digging into his work. A bit of time watering and tending to his bonsais and other plants, checking his personal email and responding to friends from various parts of the world, checking his newsfeed and picking out certain news articles to enjoy as he ate his breakfast. A brisk walk, he decided, was desperately needed. The morning was beautiful and the perfect temperature as he wandered through the quiet street his apartment building was on. He reluctantly returned home after nearly forty minutes of walking, opening his backpack to pull out the work he’d brought home with him.

The bunny boy’s wallet fell out with his papers, and the memories from the night before came rushing back. He picked it up, tapping it on his palm for a moment. He felt guilty going through someone else’s belongings, but he had to figure out who the kid was to return it. His mask getup wouldn’t be helpful today. Sighing, Namjoon opened the wallet. A handful of cards, Namjoon flipped past them until he reached the boy’s ID. Namjoon gasped. He knew the bunny boy!

There was a coffee shop just a few miles from his house that Namjoon always stopped at on his way to work. Partly because the coffee was amazing. Mostly because the barista was the most beautiful man that Namjoon had ever laid eyes on. He only knew the boy by JK, but every time he went in the boy greeted him happily, never having a bad day, it seemed. Namjoon had spent more than a few minutes daydreaming about what it would be like to share a kiss with him, hold his hand, and

more. And here he was, holding onto JK’s wallet. Jeon Jungkook. Aged twenty-two. Not too far from Namjoon’s age, really. A September baby too. Oh and—

Namjoon snapped the wallet shut. He’d just opened it to get the boy’s name and potential address to return it. Not snoop at his entire life history – cute barista or not. Namjoon tossed the wallet onto the table, straightening out his papers to begin his work. As he did, his eyes continued to drift over to the beat-up wallet on the table.

Yoongi would call it fate, Namjoon was sure. He could go for a coffee… And he was sure the boy was worried about his wallet. Did he work on Saturdays? Namjoon wasn’t sure – he’d never been in the shop on a Saturday. Only one way to find out.

Namjoon rose and swept his work papers and computer back into his backpack, adding the wallet to the pile. He might as well get some work done at the shop after returning the wallet. He pulled his sneakers back on and headed out to catch the bus.

The coffee shop was busier than Namjoon was used to it being. A nice day, he supposed. He stepped in, peeking around the line of people. There he was. No sign of his horrific mask from the night before, Jungkook was smiling brightly as he worked. His sleeves were rolled up to reveal a peek of a tattoo sleeve, his shaggy black hair tied back in a messy bun as he took the order from the elderly woman at the counter. And that grin. The only sign of his mask was the bunny like grin he gave when he nodded to the customer and turned to pass the order off to an older boy working with him.

Good, Namjoon could return the wallet and that would be that. He sighed, shifting his weight on the balls of his feet. What if the boy – Jungkook – thought he stole it? Surely he’d understand when Namjoon explained. But what if he didn’t? Namjoon chewed his bottom lip, worries filling his mind. Maybe he should just drop it off at the nearby counter. Jungkook would find it, and he’d escape without being wrongly accused. But what if someone else found it? What if it got lost forever? No – he had to give it to someone. Should he just say he found it on the floor? Surely Jungkook would have realized his wallet was missing the night before, that wouldn’t work.

Namjoon continued to worry himself into a frenzy, unable to make a final decision even as only one person stood between him and Jungkook. Finally, it was his turn.

Jungkook beamed at him. “Morning.”

“M—Morning,” Namjoon stumbled over his words.

Jungkook tilted his head a little, eyes narrowing. “You’re a regular here, huh?”

“Yeah, most weekdays.”

“Thought you looked familiar. What can I get you?” “Uh—” Namjoon froze. “Oh just—iced Americano today, please.”

“Sure.” Jungkook grinned. He glanced back. “Slowed down, Jin-hyung, you can take your break.”

“Thanks, JK.” The one he called Jin clapped him on the back and headed out one of the doors.

“Busy weekend, huh?”

“They usually are,” Jungkook said as he made the coffee Namjoon had requested.

“Do you always work?” Namjoon asked. “I mean I just—I see you every day I’m in here.”

“Yeah, my best friend owns the place.” He jutted his thumb at the door Jin had exited. “Really he’d be sunk without me,” Jungkook teased, laughing. Namjoon laughed as well, nodding.

“You’re very good at what you do.”

“Well thanks.” Jungkook placed the cup in front of Namjoon and quoted the price.

Namjoon reached into his bag, grabbing his wallet, and spotting Jungkook’s.

“Uh… Actually…” He pulled out his wallet, handing over his card.

“What?” Jungkook asked as he ran it. “Well, I—Um. Bloody bunny?” He asked.

Jungkook tilted his head. He passed the card back to Namjoon.

“I’m sorry?”

“Uh—” Namjoon reached into his bag, pulling out Jungkook’s wallet. “You left it. On the bus. Mokdongseo-Ro. You—I promise I didn’t steal it, it must have fallen out when you got up.”

Jungkook gasped, grabbing the wallet from Namjoon’s hand. “Oh my God, thank you,” he stressed. “I’ve been worried sick that I lost this, I’m so forgetful.” He bowed so low his head nearly smacked the counter. “Thank you, thank you so much.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it.” Namjoon laughed a little. “I figured after your nap you were groggy, so…”

Jungkook’s eyes widened. He covered his mouth with his hand. “It was you. I fell asleep—Oh God, I’m so embarrassed.” He put his hands over his face.

“Why?”

“A giant gory bunny falls asleep on a handsome guy’s shoulder and then he has to come out all this way on a weekend to return my wallet, I’m such a dope.”

“Handsome, eh?” Namjoon teased, his heart skipping a beat at the phrase.

Jungkook made a small, distressed noise, screwing his eyes shut. “I’m so sorry. That was weird.”

“I’ve never been called handsome before. Especially not by a cute bunny.”

Jungkook’s face was positively glowing. Namjoon’s heart was thudding out of his chest; he was awful at flirting, what was he doing?

“Cute?” Jungkook said softly. “I didn’t just totally offend you and freak you out?”

“No, your terrifying mask did a good job of that last night. I far prefer the face under it.” Namjoon smirked when Jungkook’s shy smile reappeared.

Namjoon grabbed his card and coffee.

“Uh—Let me pay you back,” Jungkook stuttered.

“What do you mean?”

“F—For the wallet and… Scaring you.”

Namjoon bit his lip. He could say no. He wasn’t looking for someone right now… But he’d be a damn idiot to turn Jungkook down.

“What do you have in mind?”

“Ah, well… I’m really bad at this,” Jungkook admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. The bell on the door dinged, signaling a new customer.

“How about this,” Namjoon said. “I’m gonna go sit over there by the window and work. I’ll be there a while. When you decide… Come by.”

Jungkook smiled broadly, clearly relieved, and nodded. “Thank you.”

Namjoon went over to the spot he’d said, taking a seat and sipping the coffee. Perfect as always. He began to work, letting himself get lost in his job as he did.

He barely noticed when a fresh coffee was plopped in front of him. “On the house.”

Namjoon looked up, grinning at Jungkook. “Don’t need to do that.”

“My pleasure. Jin-hyung allows us all to have a free coffee on our shift, but I’m not a fan, so… You can have mine.”

“Well thank you. Are you off?”

“Just on break, but I was thinking about paying you back.”

“The coffee isn’t doing that?”

Jungkook shook his head, taking a seat across from Namjoon. “You said I was cute,” he said softly.

“You are.”

“I’m… Are you—” He sighed softly, clearly struggling.

“Are you trying to ask if I’m gay?”

Jungkook squeaked softly, glancing around.

“Are you in the closet?” Namjoon worried, lowering his voice.

“Not exactly, but I don’t talk about it to anyone. You know how people can be here. I’m out with my friends and stuff.”

“Of course. The answer is yes, I’m into guys. I don’t know what label I am, but, yeah. If you’re asking if that cute was a flirtation – it was.”

“Good,” Jungkook’s shoulders relaxed visibly. “Because the handsome was too… Do you wanna go out with me?”

“You don’t even know my name.”

“Yes I do. I… Sorta peeked at the receipt when you walked away. Kim Namjoon-ssi.”

“Hyung is fine. Where do you have in mind for a date?”

“Is that a yes?” Jungkook asked, biting his bottom lip.

“Might be.” Namjoon tried to keep his voice steady, when in reality he was ready to jump for joy. A date. With someone as cute as Jungkook.

“Well, my friend was supposed to do Everland with me today. And I was going to go alone because they got a better offer from a girl. But I don’t want to go alone, not if I have someone really handsome to go with… I—” Jungkook shrugged.

“Isn’t Everland doing a Halloween thing still?”

Jungkook nodded. “I love this season.”

“I don’t,” Namjoon admitted. Jungkook pouted. He actually pouted. Namjoon’s heart skipped a beat.

“You don’t? But it’s so fun. Especially with friends. Come on, you’ll have fun. We don’t even need a costume, it’s just like a theme park but scary. And I have passes, I’ll pay for any other rides we wanna do that don’t come with the pass.”

Namjoon bit his lip. “When you do wanna go?” He asked. Jungkook beamed.

“I get off at three, I was gonna head there around four. The best stuff happens after seven anyway, but there’s some fun haunted houses and rides for earlier in the day.”

Namjoon nodded. “Fine. How do you wanna go?”

“Well, I have to go home and change, so we could meet at the park if you wanted to eat there, or pick a spot nearby if you wanna eat outside the park.”

“We can eat outside the park, I know there’s a little food cart area nearby, do you know it?”

Jungkook nodded.

“Let’s meet there. Here.” Namjoon pulled out a pet and tore off a piece of paper. He wrote his phone number down and passed it to Jungkook. “Text me when you’re there, or call me, I’ll plan to get there around four-thirty. I’ll buy dinner since you’re covering the passes and rides.”

Jungkook took the paper and tucked it into his pocket. “Deal. I won’t lose my wallet this time either.”

“And no scary bunny mask. This bunny smile is far cuter.” Namjoon reached out, stroking Jungkook’s cheek. Jungkook’s eyes widened and he laughed.

“You’re a flirt.”

“Not often,” Namjoon admitted. “Thanks for the coffee, Jungkook… I’ll see you this afternoon?”

Jungkook nodded, rising with Namjoon. He glanced around the mostly empty shop.

“I’m gonna do something really rash, okay?”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm.” Jungkook went forward and kissed the corner of Namjoon’s mouth. “Thanks for returning my wallet. And… For letting me sleep on you.”

Namjoon’s eyes widened, surprised by the brashness of his new suitor. He grinned dumbly, watching Jungkook rush back to the counter to take the order of the customer there.

He wasn’t looking for a lover, he’d said. But who was he to turn away fate? Especially when it came in the form of the cutest bunny boy falling asleep on his shoulder?

#bangtanarmynet #btsguild #thebtswritersclub #boymeetsmxm #networkbangtan #namkook #btswriterscollective #btsbookclub #bangtanidx #bangtanhq #bangtanxm #kwritersworldnet #namjoon x jungkook #jungkook x namjoon #rm x jungkook #jungkook x rm #fluff #btsholidaybingo

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saiilorstars · 4 years ago

Text

Rise Up

Ch.7: At Odds

Previous Story: It Had To Be You || Current Masterlist

Pairings: Barry Allen x OFC

Chapter Summary: Belén and Barry come to odds with their plans to fight against Zoom for the first time.

Pronunciation of OC: Bell-en. The last syllable has an emphasis so it’s not pronounced like ‘Helen’ would be.

Taglist: @ocfairygodmother @anotherunreadblog @maaaaarveeeeel

[If you’d like to be part of this OC’s taglist, let me know!]

"Just let me go. Let me disappear," Dr. Light pleaded from her prison pod. She probably sounded like a broken record but it didn't matter to her. Ever since the team decided to try to reason with her, all she kept saying was to be freed so she could hide from Zoom. Unfortunately for her, they weren't having it.

"You would spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder, never knowing when Zoom is coming," Barry meant to serve as a reminder but all Dr. Light did was shrug. "Okay, how were you supposed to contact him after you killed me?"

"I was supposed to get something... something I could only get if you were dead... and then throw it through the breach as proof," Light explained.

"And then what?"

"Then he'd come for me. Confirm the kill and bring me home," Light exasperatedly sighed. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because I want to find him."

"You really don't," Light said with widened, alarmed eyes.

"He's gonna keep coming for me. He's gonna keep kidnapping people like you, forcing them to do what he wants," Barry shook his head. "I have to stop him before more people die."

"You can't stop Zoom. Okay, everyone on my Earth knows that Zoom wants the Flash from another world," Light shook her head fiercely. "You're not getting away. He has plans."

"Among those is the Siphoner?" Belén walked into the pipeline, throwing Barry a look for his secret meeting with the metahuman.

"It's only a matter of time until she comes," Light warned quietly, her voice indicating she was as much afraid of Datura as she was of Zoom.

"Well too late," Belén crossed her arms, "She's already here." Her revelation seemed to freeze Light in her spot. Fear accumulated in her eyes, making the other two metas almost feel sorry for her.

"You have to let me go!" Light pounded a fist against the pod. "If Datura is here it means Zoom knows I failed. She's going to siphon me or kill me!"

"Then help us take them down before they do any more harm," Barry still tried to reason with her, hoping that her fear would somehow help her see they were her only option now.

But Light refused. "Whatever you're planning, it's not going to work. Because if you somehow manage to escape Zoom's speed, you won't escape Datura's touch. A lot of us have tried and they're dead."

"We'll see," Barry meant it as a challenge.

~ 0 ~

"Zoom wants Doctor Light to send him your new emblem…" Caitlin repeated after hearing the story. It actually made sense in the villain's perspective, but since none of them were villains it just sounded plain crazy.

"Yes. We need it for bait," Barry glanced momentarily at his suit sitting on the display. "If we can get Doctor Light to take my emblem, throw it through the breach, then Zoom will come to collect my body, and we can trap him."

Cisco wasn't happy with that idea. "You know it took a lot of work to make that emblem, right?"

"Am I the only one who remembers that she tried to kill Linda just to escape Zoom?" Caitlin decided to input in case they truly had forgotten that crucial detail.

"Linda sure hasn't," Belén snorted.

"Look, I know we can get her to help us," Barry could almost promise it was the case. "She's rational, she'll see it's the only way."

"Before I left Earth-2, I worked on a serum to dampen Zoom's speed. All we would need is for Ramon to develop a weapon to deliver it," Harry shared.

"Oh, great, that could be this year's cold gun," Belén shot Cisco a warning look that he shouldn't even try it. "Maybe another criminal can get it, and then we'd have Sergeant Slow."

"I would never let that happen. Sergeant Slow is a terrible name," Cisco flatly responded with.

"Are we forgetting how much more powerful than Barry Zoom seems to be?" Caitlin looked at them incredulously. "I mean, if Barry can catch bullets, what's to say Zoom can't catch whatever you shoot at him?"

"Surprise... the element of surprise," Harry laid it out for them. "All we would do is rig a projectile to fire as Zoom crosses into the breach. He can't stop what he can't see coming."

"That's great," Barry was relieved to see that someone was at least following through with the idea.

"Thanks."

Caitlin shook her head. "Joe, voice of reason here?"

"We need a plan," Joe agreed on some level. "That's as good as any. As long as he can deliver."

"Don't underestimate me, Detective," Harry pointed and walked out of the cortex to get started on the task ahead.

Barry's phone went off and when he checked it he saw Patty's name on the ID. "Oh, Patty needs us back at the station," he told Joe.

Joe nodded. "I'll meet you there, all right?"

Barry agreed and took a head start with Belén.

~0~

"Hey," Iris stopped by Belén's desk at work. She put down a coffee for Belén and then took a seat at the edge of Belén's desk. "I didn't know you'd be coming in today."

"Yeah well, since my endeavors to get stronger, I've been neglecting my work," Belén reached for the cup of coffee. "I can't afford to get fired."

Linda came by rather nervously, and Belén knew once again what the reason was for her detour. "Hey. Have you had any word from The Flash about the meta-human that attacked us? Or the other one that got to me? Look at me, I have to keep count on who kidnaps me."

"Linda, I promise you that you'll be safe," Belén sighed. She knew it would take Linda a good amount of time before she could feel normal again, what with Dr. Light and Datura kidnapping her...

"Still...I'd just feel better if I could talk to, um...the Azalea? Or the Flash?"

"Linda, I don't think that's a good idea…"

"It's not that I don't believe you!" Linda exclaimed. "I just...I want answers, Belén. Why does that woman look like me? Knowing there's a metahuman with my face on who likes to nearly kill people makes it really hard for me to concentrate on field goals and doping scandals. And then I've got that new plant meta to think about? I don't want to sit around being told not to worry my pretty little head about it."

Belén acknowledged Linda's feelings and sighed. "I get that. Believe me, I do."

"Then tell the Azalea and Flash that I want to talk to them. I bet you can get the message across to the Flash. Please," Linda said, then added, "Iris says he'll listen to you no matter what because of that crush."

Had it not been because they were in public, Belén would have smacked Iris again for that. It definitely didn't help that Iris was smirking.

"I will...try my best," Belén forced herself to say in one go. Soon as Linda was gone though, she hit Iris on the arm. "I'm going to kill you for ever telling that to Linda."

"Sorry," Iris honestly apologized. "When I did that, I didn't know it was Barry. So really, this is your fault."

"Oh, yeah, my bad!" Belén playfully rolled her eyes.

~0~

After getting word of Dr. Light making a run for it, the group gathered at STAR Labs to figure out what exactly enabled her to do it.

"Doctor Light managed to hack into the lights of her cell. The whole building runs on fiber optics that operate on pulses of light, so she turned off the dampeners and used her powers," Cisco reviewed what he learned from the mechanics.

"And made herself invisible?" Belén glanced at the full costume Light had left behind for them. "That's possible?"

"Apparently," Cisco mumbled.

"I told you how dangerous she was," Harry was beyond mad with them. It wasn't like he had warned them about Light - oh wait, he had. "You should have listened to me and sedated her."

"I thought we would be able to convince her that helping us was the only way she'd free herself from Zoom," Barry argued.

"Well, you thought wrong!"

"Yeah. Okay, look, Doctor Light is gone, so instead of assigning blame, let's try to figure out what we're gonna do next," Joe cut in before they went any further.

"Do you think she's gonna try and take Linda again?" Belén worried over her friend who, at the moment, probably didn't know much.

"I had Iris bring Linda to the house, just in case, to keep an eye on her," Barry informed her to ease her concerns. "How are we doing with the speed-dampener?" he asked the others.

"I think we isolated the composite…" Caitlin began, still sounding unsure with this plan.

"And we're modifying the dart the Arrow used to take down Wells," Cisco added.

Harry was growing close to hitting something if they kept using that line. "He's not Wells. I'm Wells!"

"Whatever, Harry," Cisco sarcastically retorted in a louder voice.

"Okay, but we don't even really know if this thing works?" Joe asked just to be sure he was hearing all this craziness.

"Until we try it, no. This will be a field test, so can we end this scintillating staff meeting and get back to work?" Harry motioned he would at least continue with work while everyone else continued to talk.

"Or how about I say what everybody's thinking?" Joe challenged. "Maybe it's a good thing that Doctor Light is gone. Maybe it's the universe stopping us from doing something really stupid."

Caitlin made an agreeing gesture, and honestly Belén was close to doing the same. They had learned the hard way they couldn't just come up with any old, fast plan against Zoom.

"No. No," Barry said loudly. "Keep going. I'm gonna figure out another way to get Zoom."

"A-are you sure?" Belén had to ask, stopping him before he could leave. "Couldn't we come up with something we could all agree with?"

"We don't have the time," Barry sounded rhetorical. Did no one understand they couldn't have the luxury to sit down like a group and discuss their options? Options that were already little to begin with?

When Barry actually left the room, Belén released a sigh. "We can't just go through without calculating. I'm not the cop, I shouldn't have to tell him this."

"I've got you," Joe promised and went after Barry.

~0~

Later that day, Belén stopped by her childhood home to pick up one of the last boxes she meant to take to her new apartment. As she walked in, she found her mother working at the living room, unbeknownst to Belén it was with the papers Veronica had taken from the precinct earlier in the day.

"Mom, hey," Belén greeted and shut the door.

"Hi," Veronica seemed entranced with whatever she was reading at the moment.

"Where's Axel?" Belén searched for her nephew in the quiet room.

"Oh, out in the garden. What did you need?"

"Just coming to make another trip," Belén left her bag at the side table and walked up behind the couch. "What's all that?" she pointed to the mess of papers on the coffee table.

"Information on some old metahuman cases."

Belén raised an eyebrow at her mother, now noticing there were several manila folders spread around the coffee table. "Why are you looking at old meta cases?"

"Because there's some things not adding up, that's why," Veronica said so matter-of-factly one could believe it was just a casual thing she was doing.

"What?" frowned Belén. "What do you mean?"

Veronica sighed as she raised her gaze from her work. "There are several metas that the cops never found but the Flash and the Azalea did yet there are no arrest papers anywhere. Am I to assume the precinct just let it go?"

"Well, what does it matter? The metas were caught-"

"-what matters is that they were not brought to justice in the correct way," Veronica closed the file on her lap. "Does the CCPD let these super heroes take justice into their own hands? We are the cops. These metahumans should be in Iron Heights. And do you know the most significant thing I've discovered in all these cases?"

"Humor me," sighed Belén, figuring she wouldn't win this argument.

"Every single case has been handled by Joe West, with your boyfriend's signature right along the papers."

"Well...I would deem that normal since Barry is the only CSI at that precinct," Belén tried to be casual, and perhaps a tad sarcastic just to make it sound like she wasn't nervous. "I'd be surprised if he hadn't signed anything."

"These cases all have odd details, Belén. If it's not the fact there's no arrests, it's the fact that Joe's overseeing is everywhere on these cases. Does he only do meta cases that involve the Flash and the Azalea?"

"What?" Belén nervously laughed. "I don't know how case selection works. Do you choose your own case or-"

Veronica raised a hand to stop Belén from going further. "I'm beginning to think there's some secrets at this precinct. I'll have to keep digging."

"But Mom-"

Veronica got up from the couch and headed for the kitchen. "Are you staying for dinner? I'll get Axel and we cant try this new recipe I found online..."

Belén didn't listen to her mother in the end. She just kept wondering how complicated this would all get if her mother didn't stay away from meta cases. It could land Veronica into dangerous trouble with the newest metas in the city...as well as causing more conflicts between her and Barry and the Wests.

~0~

When Barry returned home the last thing he was expecting was to have the entire house smelling of a mixture of meals. He spotted Iris standing by the dining room that was filled with said mixture of meals.

"Are you guys having a dinner party?" for a moment he thought maybe he'd missed one of Iris' planned sleepovers.

"You would think," Iris crossed her arms and waited for Linda to return from the kitchen. Seconds later, Linda came by holding yet another pot of food.

"I know, I know. It's just, sometimes cooking helps me to relax," she profusely apologized to them both. She knew she was running them dangerously close to nothing in the pantries. "Have you heard anything about Doctor Light? Or that Datura? Am I still in danger?"

"We're not really sure…" Barry felt bad lying to her but they couldn't tell her much.

"Come on. I'm going crazy here, Barry."

"Yeah, she is," Iris nodded to the table full of meals.

Linda gasped when the oven timer went off. "That's the cake! Hope you're hungry."

"She's not kidding," Iris leaned off the table and started making way for the couch. "There's enough food in there to feed an army."

"She must be terrified," Barry misread the situation.

"Uh, more like furious. Someone nearly died because of this metahuman who so happens to look like her. And then she was used as bait in front of the entire city? I mean, trust me. If Linda had Doctor Light's powers right now…"

Barry suddenly raised his head with an incoming idea.

"What?" Iris recognized that as his thinking face.

"I just, uh, Linda and Light...they're identical. So identical that Light even thought she could fool Zoom. Now we have Light's suit." Barry stopped when Iris said nothing. "You don't even have to say anything, I know. It's a terrible idea."

"Well…" Iris tilted her head. "No, not really. We make Zoom think that Linda is Doctor Light and use her to draw him out."

"It's too dangerous, right?"

Iris would have said yes, but this was something neither could decide. "Let Linda decide. I mean, she's desperate to catch the person with her face who's terrorizing people, and she deserves the chance to help us."

"Okay," Barry smiled and started to tell her how it would work for Linda to help them.

~ 0 ~

Deciding to show up to Linda as the Flash, Linda was given the chance to try and help them set a trap for Zoom. Linda didn't think twice before agreeing to help. The idea was for her to pretend to be Dr. Light and have a fake fight with Barry where she would 'win' and hand over his suit's emblem as proof of his defeat.

"Where are they?" Belén walked into the training room where Linda would shortly be out to practice. She wasn't happy and that was evident as soon as someone saw her face. "I cannot believe - oh hell no." She had stopped beside a couple of cardboard cut outs near Cisco who was on top of a small scaffold. "Cisco, why is there a cut out of me?"

Cisco looked over the rail and grinned. "They're practice targets. Don't worry though, yours aren't the target."

"I was a bit more creeped out on the part where my friend keeps cardboard cut outs of me," Belén crossed her arms.

"It's important to have hobbies," Cisco turned over another cut out he was in the process of hanging. It turned out to be himself holding a camera while striking an odd pose of him sticking his tongue out.

Belén blinked emotionlessly for a second. "I fear for your future wife," she shared and walked away. She spotted Barry with Iris from a distance, the former donning his red suit, and so Belén made a direct beeline for them. "What is going on here!?" she asked them soon as they could hear. "Linda is doing what now!?"

"It's okay-" Iris began when Belén cut her off with a sarcastic 'really'.

"Having our friend who has no powers put herself on the line is not okay in my book!" Belén then glanced at Barry. "And was it really smart of you to show up like that?" she gestured to his appearance. "You outed yourself...ish."

"We don't have time to think of something else," he shrugged. "Besides, it can work, Bells."

"That's my friend," Belén said quietly. "I have known her for years. I can't even think about it if something happened to her because she got caught up in this."

"Hey," Barry took her into a hug, "I won't let that happen. I promise." Belén relaxed a bit but she still wasn't entirely on board with this idea. She felt like Barry was rushing into this without all the connections being made.

"This is ridiculous," they heard Linda coming in. Caitlin walked beside her in the costume that gave her the image of Dr. Light.

"Linda," Belén pulled away from Barry, blinking as she studied the new appearance of their friend.

"Belén, hey," Linda was relieved to see she'd been contacted. While she was comfortable with Iris, she had known Belén far longer and truly trusted her.

"You look...just like Doctor Light," Belén looked Linda over.

"I feel ridiculous," Linda admitted and hugged herself.

"You're fine," Caitlin assured and held out a pair of black gloves. Linda took them rather confused and looked at them for some explanation. "And with these gloves that Cisco rigged up, you'll be able to do what Light does."

"Oh...great," Linda said nervously as she began to put the gloves on.

"I'm gonna go make sure everything's been set up," Caitlin said and headed for the elevated platform where they would be monitoring Linda's practice session. Iris followed behind her, and soon enough went Barry as well.

"Linda, I'm sorry," Belén felt the need to apologize to her friend. However, Linda didn't understand only took a double-take at her in response. "I didn't know that...Flash, was going to pull this. Rest assured I would not have let him."

"What? No!" Linda exclaimed. "I'm glad Iris took me to him. Though I'm a bit surprised that Iris knows him too?" Belén's eyes widened for a moment but Linda, thankfully, went ahead and made her own assumption. "I guess that comes as a perk when you're the daughter's cop, hm?"

"Yes!" Belén didn't think twice in confirming. "Exactly."

Linda smiled and started walking with her towards the platform. She fixed the gloves on her hands and thought to ask whether or not these were pretty safe.

"They should be," Belén glanced at Cisco on the platform. "Right?"

"Totally," Cisco said without thinking.

"Ish," Harry said instead, freezing both women below.

"What?" Belén raised both her eyebrows.

"Well, come on, it's gotta be believable," Cisco tried to reason with them, "so they really do fire and explode things."

"Hm…"

"And you-" Cisco then pointed at Barry, "-are going to have to let her hit you with those blasts when she gets the hang of it."

"Please don't kill him," Belén then mumbled to Linda.

"Okay, the suit can absorb the blasts," Cisco said for her comfort, and probably Barry who wasn't looking so excited either.

"For real or 'ish'?" Belén crossed her arms. "Because let me tell you the difference between those two."

"Okay, you know what? I like to think I can see the bright side of things, okay?" Cisco got snappish with her as well. "Positivity, people," he clapped his hands and went back to work.

Barry gestured to Linda to follow him down the room where Cisco and Joe had set up several cardboard cut outs of themselves. "So just hit the ones of me. Okay?"

Linda nodded. "Got it. Great." She took several steps towards the cutouts, mumbling to herself to get prepared. "Doctor Light…" she took a deep breath and thrust a hand forwards to shoot. Soon as she did, however, she felt the gloves sort of take control and shot relentlessly. "Oh! Oh!" she stumbled back on her feet while the gloves continued shooting. Barry caught her from behind and thankfully put an end to the glove fiasco.

"Uh, you know what? I'm just gonna adjust those a little!" Cisco snatched a nearby screwdriver from the platform and rushed towards Linda who more than terrified now.

"Just...okay, so, um, do the opposite of that, and we'll have it," Barry gave a light pat on Linda's arm, figuring she was probably a little discouraged now.

Later, when Cisco promised that the gloves would not malfunction, they gave it another try. Linda led the way slowly searching for the right cut outs to shoot at. She nearly shot a couple of the 'civilians' but she did manage to shoot some of the right ones.

"Yes!" Linda cheered excitedly after shooting the first right cut out of the Flash. "I did it!" she turned back to her friends. "Did you see that?"

"Yeah!" Barry was equally happy to see her beginning to get the hang of it. The two went to do a high-five but Linda's glove accidentally went off and fired straight at the platform. Poor Cisco was blasted backwards to the floor.

"Oh my God!" Linda gasped. Cisco rolled to his side then sat right up, looking pretty annoyed. "Sorry?"

"She's gonna kill you," Belén quietly said to Barry, meaning all kindness for her friend. "And when she does...I'm going to kill you."

"C'mon…" Barry tried to be optimistic, but everyone else seemed to agree with Belén's perspectives.

After dispatching Linda with Iris, the group met back in the cortex to discuss the day.

"Okay, no offense to Linda, but there is no way she can pull this off," Caitlin honestly didn't mean to sound rude.

"Well, maybe if she didn't scream every time she fired," Cisco shook his head.

"Okay, Linda had a rocky start, but she can pull this off," Barry continued firm, apparently, despite everyone going against it. "I know she can. All right, did you find someplace near breach where we don't have to worry about civilians getting in the way?"

Against his better judgement, Cisco answered him. "Yeah, there's a place by the docks that's usually deserted at night."

"Awesome. Cait, how are we doing with the speed-dampener?"

"My tests indicate that it should work," Caitlin answered rather doubtfully as well.

"It will work," Harry was the only one who seemed to share Barry's persistence in the plan. "I'll tune up Ramon's gloves, make sure they work better."

"Okay great," Barry nodded as the other man started to leave.

"Wait, so we're actually going through with this?" Belén's eyes flickered from one person to the next.

"Yeah, we're doing this," Barry said, confused.

"Uuum…" Belén trailed off waiting to see if he would make the connection but apparently she hadn't been too clear. "We can't! Linda is not ready for this - hell, I don't even think we're ready for whatever plan you have in that big head of yours!"

"Bells, we don't have the time-"

"We need to have the time," Belén snapped. "I went up against Datura on a whim and I got my ass handed to me! Now my friend is going to be out there, risking her life to help us. The least you can do is be truly calculating and have a right plan."

Barry was giving her an incredulous stare for her sudden outburst. He couldn't believe she actually was doing that. Yes, she did make some sense but he made sense too. They didn't have the luxury of time. "We have this-"

"No, we don't," Belén shook her head frantically. "And I'm a little worried, honestly, that you're so hellbent on getting Zoom against everything. I...I can't go through with it." She decided that upon seeing that Barry wasn't exactly going to back down anytime soon. Waving her hands, she signaled she was sticking to her decision and leaving the place.

One would think that would be enough to put Barry straight, but he proved to be severely persistent. Now Joe thought enough was enough, and decided to add onto Belén's thoughts. However he would do it privately.

"I can't believe we're still on this, Barry," Joe gave a deep sigh and crossed his arms once Caitlin and Cisco had left them the cortex.

"Belén will get over it, but this is our only chance to get Zoom," Barry said truthfully. He thought that perhaps Belén was a bit too close to Linda and that's why she wasn't seeing what he was: the perfect chance to get Zoom.

"You saw what happened in there. Linda's not ready," Joe hoped to open his eyes.

"She is," Barry argued. "She's ready enough."

"Why are you pushing this!?"

Barry couldn't believe he was actually going to have this conversation. "What... why do you think? I want to get him!"

"Get who, exactly?"

"Is that a real question?"

"You tell me. I'm... I'm not sure this is even about Zoom, honestly," Joe admitted. "I'm starting to feel like you're still chasing the Reverse Flash."

"Reverse Flash is dead," Barry flatly said, finding no relevance in this.

"Yeah, but after all he did to you, you weren't the one that stopped him."

"We all worked together-"

"Yeah, and Eddie got him in the end," Joe reminded. "I mean, did that make you feel cheated, like you didn't get your revenge, and stopping Zoom is the next best thing?" Barry remained silent and for a moment couldn't look Joe in the eyes. "Belén is right. If you're gonna ask people like Linda to risk their lives, you better be sure of exactly why they're doing it. Otherwise, call it off."

With those words, he left Barry to think.

~ 0 ~

Belén thought nothing would help her distract herself than by working. So, she had thought to continue with her unpacking . And she did that...until she felt her arms would fall off for trying to put together a side table. Thanking the heavens that she had brought along one of her couches already, she plopped down and grabbed her laptop to hopefully continue an article she was meant to turn in by the end of the week. Trying to write proved difficult after spending a good thirty minutes coming up with about three sentences. Her attention, however, was drawn to the jiggling of her door's knob.

Thinking it was perhaps a burglar, Belén stopped her writing and began preparing for a fight.

"Auntie Belén!" Axel, instead, came running in after Veronica opened the door.

For a moment, Belén just stared at her incoming mother, ignoring Axel clutching her waist.

"Hey there, sweetie," Veronica closed the door like nothing and walked in.

"H-how did you get in?" Belén gave a pat to Axel's back. Seeing he was acknowledged, the boy rushed to his grandmother to retrieve his tablet so he could watch his shows.

"Oh, yes, well, Mark stopped by to give me his set," Veronica held up a different key in her hand. "I thought I'd bring it back for you."

"Okay…" Belén still wasn't very comfortable with her mother's presence.

"What's wrong?" Veronica noticed her daughter's odd behavior, despite their earlier disagreement she was pretty sure it wasn't related to her this time.

"Nothing…" Belén answered slowly and took the key from Veronica's hand. "Did...did you need anything?" she took a seat on the couch and grabbed her laptop again.

"I thought we should talk...about earlier…" Veronica took a seat across her daughter, setting her purse beside. Axel silently sat across on the same couch, delving into his tablet.

"Oh, you mean where you went ballistic on me?" Belén stared hard at her screen. "Yeah, no, I totally forgot about that."

Veronica may have thought it was sarcasm but in truth Belén had forgotten about it due to Barry and the Dr. Light situation. "Well I haven't, and I really don't want this to cause another problem between us."

"Well it's a little difficult when you're investigating my boyfriend's adoptive father."

"Not going to argue there," Veronica admitted. "But...Belén I'm a cop. I can't let things go where I don't see logic."

"Mom," Belén sighed. She pursed her lips together, struggling to keep it together all of a sudden. "I accept your apology, I do...but can we not do this right now? I just...I had a day...and I don't want to do anything tonight."

"Belén, what's wrong?" Veronica asked again, this time hoping she would get an answer.

Belén closed her laptop once she realized she would not be writing that night. "Barry and I may have had a disagreement."

"About…?"

"Stuff," Belén left it at that.

"Well that 'stuff' seems to be making your eyes, uh…" Veronica gestured to her own, "...kind of reddish…"

"It's normal stuff," Belén shrugged. "I don't like arguing with him but I had to say something."

"Good for you," Veronica said instantly, showing right approval. "Never swallow down your words for a man, sweetie."

There, Belén found amusement. "Yeah," she gave a slight nod of her head. "Well, I spoke my big mouth...and now I'm here."

Veronica took a moment to look at her daughter, and try to feel the pain Belén felt. With a sigh, she got up from her couch and moved to sit with Belén. "I told you my thoughts and on that man-"

"Yeah, believe me, we both got the idea," Belén sniffled a bit.

"But, if there was one thing that was left clear to me, was that this was something mutual. It's not everyday that a mother is shouted at that her daughter is loved by someone-"

Belén chuckled. "Yeah, believe it or not...he's sort of done that before with our old neighbor Mrs. Andrews."

"Really?" Veronica laughed for a moment. "Maybe you two share big mouths after all."

"Mom," Belén playfully rolled her eyes.

"Anyways, I can't seem to understand what you would argue about so suddenly," Veronica admitted. "You don't want to explain?"

It was then that Belén gave her mother a look that Veronica had never seen before. It entailed a mixture of guilt and concern to such a level that for a moment Veronica wondered what this argument was really about.

"It's private," Belén finally said, looking away from her mother.

"Really?" Veronica began to show her doubt and suspicions.

"Yes, um, it's just things between us, you know? Sometimes it's too intimate to tell someone…"

"Mm…" Veronica hummed and raised her head momentarily, apparently thinking, "...so, there isn't anything you want to tell me, then?"

"Mom, I'd really rather not," Belén meant that honestly. She didn't want to think what her mother would say if she discovered that her daughter had been moonlighting as the Azalea, and that her boyfriend was doing the same thing.

"Is 'secrets' something that Barry showed you how to keep?" Veronica got up, confusing Belén as she went on. "Because if he did, then I'm pretty sure he learned that from his pseudo-father Joe West."

"Mom…"

Veronica had crossed to the other couch to retrieve her purse. "If that's the matter then I'll have to take back everything I said about him."

"Mom, what are you-"

"I insist that Joe is covering something up with these meta cases," Veronica said, not raising her voice since Axel was still on the other couch. He was so in-tuned to his tablet he didn't notice their growing disagreements. "No one in this precinct bothered to check where these metahumans were initially being kept in prior to the metahuman compartment being built at Iron Heights. Every metahuman case that was handled was done so by Joe West and Barry Allen and that-"

"Mom-"

"I like knowing where I work, and who I work with. Now you and I can both see that there is something going on in that precinct that no one else has figured out. So I'm going to ask you, Belén, do you know something that I should know? Could this argument you and Barry had possibly be linked to these metahumans?"

Belén looked down for a moment. She knew that lying to her mother about this should have been easy considering this was something important. It was something that could put her mother in danger. But, Belén found it difficult to lie straight to her mother's face. Because right now, all Belén wanted was to tell her mother all her problems she was having. She wanted to tell her mother that someone was targeting her for something dangerous; someone wanted to hurt her. That the same someone had already sent her to get shot, had already fought her and won. Belén wanted to share that her boyfriend was also being targeted for a clear death and she was just scared he might get hurt, or killed.

I need my Mom, she came to the conclusion. That'd been the first time she thought about her mother like that...perhaps because it was the first time Veronica had been available as a mother to Belén...

But Belén couldn't do anything. Because telling Veronica everything would put her in the cross-fires of Zoom and Datura.

"There is nothing I have to say," Belén forced herself to say in one go. She surprisingly held her tears together as she then requested that Veronica leave.

Extremely upset with her daughter lying, Veronica took Axel and hurried out the door. Belén was right behind them and was there to quickly close the door.

"I'm sorry," Belén whispered, closing her eyes as they began to spill tears.

~0~

Heeding some of Joe's words, Barry decided to reveal himself to Linda in order to help both of them out. Linda was already discouraged of her villainous abilities, and seeing the Flash was an actual friend did make her a little more comfortable. It also did help explain some of the oddities surrounding STAR Labs and the Flash. So, she agreed to help him out once more. Dressed as Dr. Light, she took on the role as the Flash's current enemy.

"I'm here to kill you, Flash," she stood tall and mighty across the Flash. "I am loyal to Zoom, so get ready to fry."

Soon as she said those words she knew it was a bad pun.

She shot a ray of light towards Barry but hit a couple of a stockage from the docks instead. Barry whipped a head back and decided to just go with it.

"Ow!" he let himself fall to the ground.

"Gotcha," Linda smirked, although she struggled to stay with a serious face.

"Yeah, you did, real good," Barry pushed himself up.

"Bring it," Linda motioned with a gloved hand.

Barry sped towards her and when Linda shot, she actually managed to get him. Struggling, Barry got past her only to be shot yet again on the back. This time, his fall to the ground was not fake. Linda turned around putting on her best evil smirk.

"Told you, Zoom always wins." She walked towards Barry who had kept himself down. She bent down to take his emblem and found time to whisper to him. "You're okay, right?"

Barry cracked open an eye and whispered back. "Yeah, yeah. I had to make it look good."

Linda straightened up with the emblem in her hand. "Here it is, Zoom, I did what you wanted." She headed to where the open breech was in midair. "Now bring me home." She chucked the emblem into the breech and nervously waited for Zoom to appear.

Wells and Joe waited as well, but hidden in place with weapons hoping to deter Zoom's speed. Barry had to remain 'dead' on the ground but he was more than ready to jump at the chance when Zoom appeared. Everything was in place. Everything.

However, nothing happened. Minutes passed and everything remained silent. It added onto the fear already placed over several of the group.

"Hey, stop fidgeting," Linda hissed when she caught Barry slowly attempting to move his leg.

"Sorry, it's been an hour. I landed in a ridiculous position, and my foot fell asleep," the speedster argued quietly and returned to being 'dead'.

From STAR Labs, Caitlin and Cisco were carefully checking over any security feed from the docks they could find in case Zoom appeared from another unknown breech. "He's probably just waiting to see if you're really dead. Any minute now, he's gonna strike," Cisco said as a means of encouragement.

"No," Barry decided it was just not happening tonight. He sat up with a deep sigh.

"Sorry, I probably screwed up somehow," Linda hung her head, feeling like she had failed them all.

Barry got on his feet and moved over to give her an honest thank you. "No, Linda, you did great. Thank you for helping me."

Linda knew he was disappointed and smiled sadly. She wished there was more that she could do for him. Her thoughts were interrupted by Joe and Harry coming out of hiding and the latter loudly kicking anything in his way.

"So Wells ain't taking this well," Joe sarcastically remarked as he met with Barry.

"Mm-hmm…" Barry watched Harry turn in a different direction of the docks, storming and kicking things still.

"How about you?" Joe noticed how unusually quiet Barry was despite the loss of the night.

"Yeah, it just sucks, you know," Barry shrugged, thinking of the entire day's course. "You were right a little bit about this not being just about Zoom... about it being about the Reverse Flash. But not for the reason that you think, not because I didn't beat him." With a sigh, he explained the bit of an old video Joe had yet to know about, that everyone save Belén knew. "It's... Wells... he said something to me on that video before he confessed to my mom's murder. He said that even if he was dead, that he still won because I wasn't happy, that I'd never really be happy."

Joe frowned. It was truly unbelievable how Wells could still manage to screw with them even from beyond the grave. "How the hell would he know?"

Barry shrugged again, thinking logically. "He knew me. He knows future me."

Joe rolled his eyes. "Fine. But that's future you. This is the you here and now."

"I still think that Wells is right. Ever since I went back to that night and I didn't save her... I didn't save my mom, I just... there's just been this void in me. You know, I just feel like that is always gonna be there. For better or worse, Wells...he knew me."

"Better than I know you?" Joe would have laughed had it not been a serious matter. "He may have stalked you for 15 years, but I raised you. Look, Wells said what he said to you to mess with you... to get in your head one last time. If you listen to him, you let him win."

"I know," Barry sighed. And he thought that Wells was already beginning to win. Because of his rushed persistence with this plan, he had gotten into a big argument with Belén. God knows how he would be paying for that one.

"I don't want that. You're responsible for your own happiness, Barry," Joe sincerely hoped Barry would finally begin to listen again. "Forget about Wells. Think hard about what you want and what makes you happy. Go out and get it. Simple as that. All right?"

Barry smiled a bit, giving a small nod of his head. "Yeah."

~ 0 ~

Belén had just finished setting up a small rectangular pot holder for her new Azaleas up on the kitchen window when someone knocked on her door. She dumped the trash then hurried to go open. Her heart skipped a beat when she found Barry standing on the other side. Her first thought was his lack of knowledge of today's events, and for now it seemed like the best.

"You were right," Barry decided to open with that. Perhaps hearing he was admitting she had had a point would soften her up into talking with him.

"Please tell me Linda is okay?" Belén asked in fear. Her first assumption was that his plan went wrong and it got Linda into some serious pain.

"She's fine," Barry promised her. "Zoom...didn't show."

"Oh…" Belén knew that despite her feelings on the matter she didn't like to see Barry so upset either. It was important to him, for good intentions after all. She opened the door more and gestured for Barry to come in. "I'm sorry about that," she honestly said. A good part of her was happy that Zoom didn't show up to terrorize them all, because she knew they were not prepared to fight him yet.

"Thanks," Barry watched her close the door. Sheepishly, Belén crossed the living room, or at least intended to. Barry reached out for her arm and stopped her. "Bells, I'm really sorry. You were right about it all. I knew you were right from the start but I just...I wanted to catch Zoom already."

"Yeah, I think we all saw that," Belén said, mildly playful. "And I get it, believe me I do. I want nothing more than to get Datura...but I just don't like the fact you were willing to go into it all rushed and...fast. This time, we need to be slow and calculating. If Datura was difficult to manage, just imagine what Zoom is like."

"I know," Barry accepted it. "But I have to admit that...it wasn't entirely all about Zoom."

"Then…?" Belén smiled a little as she tried to understand what he meant. "...what was it about?"

"You remember the video Wells left behind as part of his will? Our Wells, I mean."

"Yeah, what about it?"

"He said that I wouldn't ever be happy no matter what. And...and it got to me more than it should have…" Barry ran a hand through his hair, still frustrated it did get to him so much, to this point actually.

"I can't believe you're still giving this dead man the time of the day," Belén said first and sighed. "His words are nothing. They should have gone through one ear-" she pointed to one of his ears, "-and out the other." She then pointed to his other ear. "Ever heard of selective attention? I use it all the time."

Barry smiled knowing this was her playfulness coming out to get them back on track. "Yeah," he nodded.

"You should have said something," Belén touched his arm. "Instead of making a scene in front of our friends, I would have had a very different conversation with you somewhere else."

"Believe me if I'd realized earlier I would have." Barry reached an arm around her waist and brought her closer to him and rested his forehead against hers. "I hate arguing with you, Bells, so much."

"Me too," Belén whispered. "I don't like it. It just feels wrong, you know? If that makes sense?"

"Yeah, it does. I don't like knowing that I upset the person that makes me the happiest." Barry gave her a moment to smile before kissing her. And this time, he meant to kiss her in a way that would show her he was truly happy with her despite everything that surrounded them. He walked her up against the nearest wall and kissed her.

Belén let herself be encased in his arms and kissed back until she had to breath, but even then she barely wanted to let go. Barry dragged his lips from hers and set a one kiss on her cheek, then another lower on her jawline, and last on the side of her neck. Afterwards, he nuzzled his nose against her neck, relishing from their moment. This is what made him happy - she made him happy.

"Can we just rest for a while?" his soft tone made it hard for Belén to understand the first time.

She turned her head to the side and met his eyes. "What?"

"The Zoom problem, the Datura problem...I just need one moment of peace...with you," Barry repeated, hoping he made sense without sounding...weird.

Belén brought a hand to rest on his cheek, and just a few seconds after Barry placed his hand over it. "Okay. Let's do that."

She gently pulled him into the hallway and brought him into her bedroom. She wished she could have finished fixing it earlier, but what was done was done. At least she'd gotten the bed. It was an odd thought to just lay down together without doing anything. Usually, they had some movie times or at the very lest were joking with each other about something. Tonight, there was no television. There was no movie. There were no jokes.

And yet, things seemed more...intimate.

Barry was the one to rest his head next to Belén's neck. He eventually scooted closer to her and nuzzled his nose against her neck. Belén moved her arm so that it would rest over his back and she could run her fingers up and down.

It was peaceful.

"We should do this more often," Belén's voice was soft and quiet, perfect for the moment.

"Mhm," Barry had nestled his head closer to the crook of Belén's neck. He didn't want to move anytime soon.

So they continued to lay together, doing nothing except be together. But, like all good things, it had to come to an end. Half an hour later, both of their phones started vibrating. At first, neither of them wanted to move. Neither wanted to break the nice, peaceful bubble.

But the phones kept vibrating.

"I'm sorry," Belén kissed Barry's hair and sat up so she could answer her phone. Iris was on the other end of the line, and once she was able to speak she said it all in one fast ramble.

Zoom had Linda.

~ 0 ~

STAR Labs' computers were all simultaneously ringing in alarms, indicating there was a new visitor in the area.

"He's on the roof!" Harry shouted soon as he got word from the computer.

"He has Linda," Belén rushed to the desk to see through the security cameras where oh where was Linda. "Is Datura with him!?"

While the question couldn't be answered at once, they had a clear view of Zoom. He had chosen to dangle poor Linda over the roof's edge just as Barry got there. Proving to be the ultimate villain, Zoom dropped Linda like she was a pair of socks. Barry sped down to the ground and, using his whirlwind trick, softened Linda's fall into his arms.

"You need to get out of here, okay?" Barry set her down on her feet.

Linda was beyond terrified. "No, you can't fight that thing. It's a monster! I don't know who's worse, him or that crazy lady!"

"Just go!"

Linda looked up at the roof and thinking that Zoom would come for her again as bait, she ran off as fast as she could.

"What is that thing?" Belén was disgusted by Zoom's appearance despite it being only through a computer screen. She had yet to see the full figure of the speedster but now wished she hadn't. "He cannot be human."

Zoom was pitch black, from head to toe. There was an eerie spark around his figure. One could even say his suit didn't have gloves for hands but instead for claws.

"He is human," Harry was also staring in disgust but in a different tone. "Or was, at least."

"How the hell is Barry supposed to defeat that?" Cisco was thinking of the odds in their favor and they were not looking good.

"Why is he running away?" Harry scowled after they all saw Barry speeding away from Zoom. It looked like even Zoom was a bit confused on it too.

"He's not," Belén shook her head. "He wouldn't. I think we can all agree he's not scared."

A delirious laugh came from Cisco, prompting everyone to look at him. "Ooh, he's gonna thunderbolt him!"

"What?" Harry was left thinking.

"Jay taught him how to throw lightning," Caitlin explained.

Barry returned with a thunder bolt that he threw directly at Zoom. They were all stunned, and horrified, to see Zoom literally grab said thunderbolt and throw it right back at Barry, causing the red speedster to crash against a wall.

"Did he just…?" Belén gaped and glanced at the others just to make sure she hadn't seen things. Even Barry was in disbelief.

"Did you guys see that?" he asked through the comms.

"Uh, see him catch a bolt of lightning with his demonic claws?" Cisco met everyone's looks. "Yeah, saw that."

"Jay was right. He cannot do this alone," Caitlin shook her head.

In their shock, they hadn't even seen Harry go into the side room and come back with his trusty, big gun. "He's not alone," he was busy inputting the syringe into it.

"Barry, maybe this a strategical point where you just run," Belén spoke into the comm. hoping he would listen to her.

"No," Barry, unsurprisingly responded. He had gotten back on his feet and pulled out another syringe carrying the speed-dampener liquid. "I'm gonna see if Wells' speed-dampening serum works."

"Yes, but maybe this is the 'rushed, uncalculating' thing we were talking about earlier?"

Although Barry didn't turn off the communication system, it was almost like he did. He ignored the worries of his girlfriend in an attempt to finally put Zoom down.

"How is Barry gonna match Zoom's speed?" Belén sighed, looking to one of her smarter friends for some reassurance this wouldn't end so bad.

"He's not," Cisco smirked once he had made the realization. "He's gonna take it out of the equation altogether."

Caitlin exchanged a look with Belén, neither one of them in the know. "What are you talking about?" Caitlin then asked.

"Terminal velocity. The highest velocity attainable by a falling object."

"You mean...falling through...the air…?" Belén waved her finger above her head.

"Yeah, freefall fight. Their drag force equals the downward force of gravity, making the net force zero, making…"

"Equal velocities," Caitlin joined Cisco in the end.

"That is genius!" Cisco repeated.

"Is it really?" Belén bit her lip nervously and stared at the computer screen like a hawk.

Following through with Cisco's theory, the two speedsters had made it into the air and as they fell, they tried attacking one another. However, Zoom was the one to put Barry to the ground. Zoom picked him right up and delivered a series of punches that disoriented Barry. The last blow, the strongest of all, was given through the back - through the spine. Barry wasn't sure what he was hearing anymore, nor what he was seeing (it was all mostly blurry) but he was sure he had felt that cracking of bones.

"Never forget, I am the fastest man alive," Zoom declared without a scratch on him to show evidence he'd been in a fight.

"He's killing him!" Belén shouted frantically and turned around, making a run to go and help.

"Woah!" Cisco quickly jumped from his chair to block her way. "You can't go out there! He'll kill you too!"

"Someone has to help him!" Belén tried pushing her way but Cisco kept her there despite her fight. "Cisco!"

"Guys!" Caitlin's loud call made them both stop. They rapidly returned to the desk to see what Caitlin wanted them for. Zoom had injected the speed-dampener into Barry's bloodstream and hadn't stopped there.

"Where did he go!?" Belén slammed a hand on the desk once they lost sight of Zoom and Barry. Even Harry, who'd gone out to help Barry, was struck with confusion.

"I-I don't know," Cisco seemed unable to think of something to help them.

"FIND HIM!" Belén cried. She would've done it herself but she didn't know how the system worked.

Zoom had gone to CC Picture News to make a show of his 'triumph'. In one hand he held an unconscious Barry and addressed the entire staff. "Look at your hero."

Iris nearly had a heart attack. Behind her, cameras started going up and active.

"This man is no god. He is nothing!" Zoom left them with that knowledge and next made a stop at the precinct. "The days of The Flash protecting this city are over."

All of the cops in the area formed a line with aimed guns at the speedster.

"Put him down!" Joe was the one to shout at Zoom.

"Now what will you do without your precious hero?"

"Shoot that thing, now!" Singh gave the order.

All the cops fired until their guns finished their ammo but in the end, Zoom merely dropped all of the bullets to the ground from his palm. "Nice try."

He then sped off again.

~ 0 ~

"I should have gone out there," Belén repeated for the tenth time since Zoom had gone off their radar.

"And then what? Get yourself killed? I don't think so," Cisco remained adamant that he had done the right thing in keeping her inside the place. He was sure that Barry would agree with him.

"But then we wouldn't be in this-" Belén gasped when Zoom sped right into the cortex. "Barry!"

"Harrison Wells, you thought you could defeat me with this?" Zoom lifted Barry's body like it was some rag doll in his possession.

"I made a mistake," Harry admitted truthfully.

"Yes, a costly one."

"Let him go! Let him go right now!" Belén yelled frantically and threw a hand forwards, releasing a vine.

Zoom dropped Barry and sped up to her. Belén gasped with the ugly sight in front of her face, though a good part of it stemmed from fear.

"You are not my fight," he said just a second before Cisco shot a third syringe of the speed-dampener.

Belén stumbled backwards, yelping when Zoom dropped to his knees. Still, he managed to speed out of the place before they could capture him. Soon as he did, Belén ran for Barry's body on the floor.

~ 0 ~

As soon as Joe arrived at STAR Labs after the Zoom fiasco, he went directly for blame. If he thought Harry was suspicious before, now he firmly believed that Harry was at fault for all of it.

"This is all you! If Barry dies, you die!" Joe jabbed a finger on Harry every time he said a word.

"Enough!" Belén walked into the cortex in a hurry with Cisco. Their shouts had carried over down the hallway and, fearing a fight, Belén and Cisco left the workroom to come and stop the two men. "Joe, I get you're angry, believe me I am too, but Harry's got nothing to do with it. Barry wanted to go through with the plan in the end. No one forced him."

Still, Joe cast a menacing glare at Harry who looked more or less unaffected.

Cisco debated whether or not to bring in the mysterious topic he'd learned from Harry, but seeing that Joe was inches away from punching Harry, he decided to go with it. "Who's Jesse?"

It was easy to see that Harry was shocked to know that Cisco had knowledge of the name. "How do... Jesse's my daughter. Zoom has her." Cisco seemed to then be making the connections from his earlier vibe. Harry rushed up to him. "You've...you did vibe me-"

"Yes-"

"What did you see?"

"I saw your daughter. She was with Zoom," as Cisco explained, the others shared mutual surprise - and a bit of understanding - looks.

"But she's alive?" Harry needed to hear proper confirmation that his daughter was still breathing.

"Yes," Cisco said, and he admitted that he did feel a bit of sympathy for Harry. If he was grumpy all the time and had short patience it had to be because he was constantly worrying over his daughter being kidnapped by Zoom.

"Zoom sent you here like the others? You kill The Flash, and you get your daughter back?" demanded Joe, still un-inclined to see Harry in any other light.

"I don't...think he did…" Belén barely got the chance to say when Harry answered and explained his reasons.

"The only way I get my daughter back is I capture Zoom. Do you understand?" Harry tapped the side of his head sarcastically. "You love Barry. I love my daughter. And none of these children are safe as long as Zoom is here. I tried on my Earth to capture him. I failed. I thought I could bring him down here with Barry's help. I was wrong."

"Where are you-" Joe didn't finish on account of Harry storming out of the cortex.

~ 0 ~

When Barry finally came to, he felt his entire body aching in pain. He felt something tight around his neck and took a couple of seconds to realize it was a neckbrace.

"Can you hear me, Barry?" he heard a familiar voice beside him. He found Belén sitting beside his bed, looking so concerned over him. "I've been calling you for a couple of minutes now. Can you hear me?"

"Sorry…" Barry looked around as much as he could and saw it was broad daylight through the windows.

Belén followed his gaze and sighed. "You were out-cold for the entire night. Cait said it was normal, for you anyways…"

"How bad is it?" Barry could see a couple of bruises on his arms and he was sure there were more to discover once he could get rid of the neck brace. But even now, his body still hurt to the point he'd rather not move.

"Well, Caitlin said if you didn't heal fast it would be truly bad," Belén felt relief knowing this situation wouldn't last long for him.

"And...Linda?"

"She's fine. She told Iris and me that she was going to stay with some friends out in Coast City," Belén sighed. "I think after everything that's happened to her it's the best thing she can do."

"...Zoom?"

Belén's eyes lowered. "Um...let's...let's give that some time." When she looked at him again she had plastered a fake, cheery expression for him. "Caitlin says that in a couple of days you'll be able to try and walk and run again." She touched one of his legs with a small smile. "But you're gonna have to be patient. And don't worry, I have a lot of movies we can watch. Maybe we can try to just rest together again?"

Barry smiled, though tired, because the way in which she had asked made her look adorable. He needed that right now. "I'd like that."

Belén's smile widened. She ran her hand up and down his leg. "But you'll be patient, okay?"

Before Barry could answer, he thought of something. He realized that in all this time he hadn't felt her touch. Her fingers running down his leg...he didn't feel it. Thinking perhaps it was just the medication that was affecting his mind, he tried sitting up to check for himself.

"N-n-n-n-n-n-no, you have to stay put!" Belén assumed he would try to get back in the running game before he could.

"No, Bells, I...I didn't feel your hand…"

"What-"

"I can't feel my legs!" Barry frantically yelled, leading Belén to call for their friends.

~ 0 ~

"It's about time you showed up," Wells heard soon as he put one foot into the alleyway he'd been appointed to.

Datura's heels clicked against the cement underneath but she still walked in a graceful manner to meet with Wells. "I was doing my errands." Her sarcasm was met with rolling eyes. "C'mon, you can at least say you like where we're meeting," she gestured to the alley, "It's where I made my first Earth 1 kill a few days ago. What was her name?"

Harry dismissed her smugness and went straight to business. "The hell did you want me for? Can I expect Zoom to make another appearance?"

Datura smirked, almost laughing since she knew exactly what happened. "He really knows how to make an entrance, doesn't he? But that's not why I'm here now. I need you to retrieve something for me," Datura said, losing her sarcasm when it came to her brewing idea.

Of course that idea, whilst unknown to Harry, was one that would require him to further betray the STAR Labs team. "What do you need?" he finally asked.

"It's simple. I need Belén's suit tracker." Datura raised her head the moment Harry's eyes widened. She was already tall, but this was one of her ways to feel in control. And unfortunately for Harry, she was in control.

"Why do you need that!?"

Datura's red lips curled into an evil smirk. "That's for you and the others to find out later - soon, if all my errands go well."

"I...I can't do that-" Harry attempted to argue but Datura raised a finger to stop him.

"Don't say no to me. No one says no to me," she said darkly, bringing one gloved hand to the air. Electricity crackled around it for a few seconds before it was fired at the dumpster just behind Harry. The man jumped to the side to avoid getting hit then wildly blinked at her. She, however, remained completely at ease. "It's not a difficult mission, Wells. All you have to do is take the damn device and bring it to me. I'd let you keep it but I don't trust you not to hand it back to the others."

"What do you need it for!?" Harry still demanded some type of answer from her.

"For an idea, I've said this already," she playfully rolled her eyes.

"I can't take that from her suit!"

"Well, I'd ask you to take it from Barry's suit but he's on another level. I'll take care of him when the time comes." Her resurfaced evil smile gave Harry the chills.

"I thought he was all Zoom's..."

"He is, but it doesn't mean I can't have my own fun. Besides," Datura put her hands behind her back as she took a couple steps forwards, "He's not my target. He's really just a bonus for me - to get to Belén, I need him on the side. And to do that, I need Belén's suit tracker. It's really a whole-" she made hand gestures in the air, "-cycle thing that only I understand, but..." she drew in a deep breath and put on a sweet smile, "...it's all good. I get it. So-" she came to stand right in front of Harry, her sweet smile gone and replaced with seriousness, "-get me the suit tracker by tonight or I'll get it myself and I won't care who gets in my way."

Harry honestly felt like shooting her right there and then...but he was out of weapons...and he was short one daughter. "Fine."

#ocappreciation #arrowverseocs #the flash #barry allen #fd: the flash #barry allen imagines #barry allen fic #the flash imagines #the flash fics #oc: Belén Palayta #oc: Belen Palayta #oc: the azalea #fic: rise up

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athenaquinn · 4 years ago

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Finally Free || Orion, Nic, & Athena

TIMING: 12:30-1am ish, October 20th LOCATION: Quinn Household, Harris Island PARTIES: @3starsquinn, @athenaquinn, and @bountybossier SUMMARY: Nic is a Dad. CONTENT: Physical and emotional abuse mentions

“Athena? Athena. We have to do something.” Orion’s world had so drastically shifted that he had no idea how to feel. His brain was going haywire, feeling sick to his stomach and angry one moment before shifting to terrified and on the verge of tears. It had been over twenty minutes now. Orion only knew because he had been staring at the oven slowly counting the time for him. Twenty minutes of Orion silently kneeling in the puddle of blood collecting around his parent’s bodies. Twenty minutes of listening to Athena filter through her emotions in a rapid fashion rivaling his own. Twenty minutes of waiting for the world to stop spinning or asteroids to fall from the sky or for the bombs to go off. The world had to be ending, right? His parents were dead, one of them taken by Rio’s own hands. How did anything continue to go on after that? How was Rio ever supposed to walk again? Was he expected to go to school? To meet up with Blanche before work or hang out with Ariana and Layla? How could he kiss Winston ever again? Rio couldn’t picture anything besides kneeling on this floor, watching the oven remind him that it had been twenty-two minutes since his life had ended. Twenty-four. Twenty-six.

Thirty-seven minutes later, Rio remembered that moment of clarity when he had taken the knife from Athena. How everything had finally made sense. There were no other alternatives here. If Orion hadn’t done it, his parent’s would have killed them both and continued to take the lives of innocent people. This action had indirectly saved lives. There had been no choice. Only what had to be done. As far as morals had gone, it was the closest Rio had ever come to agreeing with his parents.

As far as he knew, Athena still hadn’t responded. “Athena?” Orion tried again, moving or the first time in thirty-seven minutes to look over at Athena. She was like an entirely different person. Not a single feature seemed recognizable even though nothing physically had changed. But the Athena he was staring at wasn’t the same as any image of his sister that he had seen before. “Athena. We can’t- I don’t know what to do. You’re the one that knows what to do. Please. Tell me what to do. Please.”

Her brother’s words were fuzzy. Just like when they’d gone swimming as children and he’d called out for her when she dove into the water and tried to hold her breath too much because there was a certain thrill that came coupled with being underwater for just too long. Athena sat, arms wrapped around her legs as she stared at the refrigerator. There was a Christmas card on it, one from last year. Their whole family was on it, and Athena could smell the pine needles, could smell the gingerbread that she never wanted too much of but found herself devouring anyway. She could taste it now - burning hot - and she felt the salt from her tears dried against her cheeks. She couldn’t focus. Her parents were dead. Her parents were dead by her own hand. Her parents had wanted to kill her brother for at least three years now and she hadn’t seen that. She kept staring at the photograph on the refrigerator, as if that would make everything better.

She didn’t want them to be alive again. The thought crossed her mind in passing first, before becoming more salient, more solid. Athena didn’t want her parents alive. She found that thought to be overwhelming. She’d never thought of a life without her parents. They were strong, they had made her strong. That was what they were supposed to do. Except they hadn’t. You broke us down and tried to mold us like we were clay or something. Her brother’s voice cut through her thoughts again and she dug her nails into her thighs. She had saved her brother. She was born to better the world, and her brother was the most important person to her. She couldn’t let him die.

She did what she had to do. Athena finally focused in on her brother’s words, unsure of how many times he’d called her so far. She glanced over to him, but she didn’t make eye contact. She wasn’t sure if she could. “I - I’m sorry.” She whispered, voice wavering. Turning away again, gaze intensely focused onto the refrigerator. “I - I can’t, Ri.” Lips barely moving, she couldn’t bring herself to look back at him.

Athena wasn’t fixing this. Why wasn’t she fixing this? That was what she did. What she had always done. Athena always took charge, always knew exactly what to do. When Orion wavered and began panicking, Athena always stood strong and knew exactly what to do. For better or for worse. Even when Rio hated the answers that Athena had to give, at least she gave them. So why was she silent now? He pushed himself up, his legs asleep and wobbling beneath him as he stumbled over to the counter, grabbing onto a towel and wetting them under the sink. He started with himself, scrubbing desperately at the blood that stained his hands. Of course it wouldn’t come off. Why would it? Even dead, he couldn’t escape his parents. After he had done the best he could he moved over towards Athena, crouching down to meet her and gently pressed the wash cloth against her arm in an attempt to begin wiping the blood away. “What do we do then? If you don’t- What am I supposed to do then?” Rio tried asking again, closer to her than he had been since they were children. Both literally and figuratively. And yet, Athena couldn’t make eye contact with him. And the words he spoke seemed to rebound off of her completely as if they had never even been said.

Nothing. If she couldn’t do this, then Orion didn’t stand a chance. Would anybody believe that this was justified? There was so much blood. So much violence. Self defense only took the two so far. People would realize that this went farther than that. If Athena didn’t do something then they had no chance, right? “I’m going to check your stomach, okay? I can smell the blood from when you were pushed down.” Without a reply, Orion took that as an okay and slowly pulled the side of Athena’s shirt up and pressed the soaked, bloody towel against it. As he wiped away the blood an image slowly started to become visible behind the wound. A tattoo? Since when did Athena have one of those? It took another minute before he realized what the tattoo was of. A series of dots symbolizing constellations. Orion. Rio’s arm fell down to his side as he stared at it. It was… simple. Not the usual grandeur that Athena loved so much. It was smaller and tucked away so it wasn’t on view for all to see. It was for herself more than anyone else. Rio had always known that Athena held a weird sense of dedication towards him, but never thought that she had actually cared enough to do something like this. “I uh- I didn’t know you had this.” Rio pushed away from Athena and slid back across the kitchen floor, not stopping until his back ran into the door handle of a kitchen cabinet. He was out of his depth, he knew that much. He had no experience with this and definitely didn’t have the stomach for it. How could he fix something like this? The logical steps flashed in his mind. Clean the mess. Get out of the house. Find an alibi. All of that was easy to say and impossible to accomplish by himself. But he had to try.

For a brief moment, Orion considered the possibility of leaving. Just standing up and walking out. Allowing his sister to handle the fallout by herself. But how long would she stay silent? She would talk eventually. She would feel betrayed. Rio couldn’t risk it coming back to him later. Leaving wasn’t an option, but staying wasn’t either. He had to do something. If he didn’t, both of them were screwed. But he knew he couldn’t do it alone. He needed someone. His body functioned without him, taking control and scrolling through his phone. Of course, he knew exactly who he needed to call. Someone that he could trust and that might understand. Before he had a chance to chicken out, he dialed. “Hello? I- I’m sorry to call so late. I need your help. Please. It’s really bad.”

The more Nicodemus worried, the less he seemed able to sleep. And fuck, was he worried. About everyone and nothing all at once. It was a wonder he hadn’t been paralyzed with it, the way it bunched his shoulders and tensed his jaw. It was worry that had him answering the phone after one ring and a quick glance at the caller ID. “Hey kid.” He had answered and then his voice petered off into silence as he listened. I need your help. He walked out of his room and went for his keys. Please. It’s really bad. Keys in hand, he ran to his truck. Ran towards something rather than away. The hunter cursed the machinery for not going fast enough as he tore over the bridge that connected East End to Harris Island. The smell of copper slammed against him as he stepped towards the darkened home. Manners went to the wayside as he strong-armed the front door open. The smell of blood was thicker in his nose. On his tongue. His brow furrowed as he shook his head.

“Rio?”

Nicodemus called out as he did what he had been raised to do: follow the blood. Right toward the kitchen as the flooring creaked under his weight. Fuck, there was a lot of it. His eyes didn’t linger on the dead. He knew lethality when he saw it and it didn’t take long to put two-and-two together. Those were his parents. His gaze, heavy yet quick with concern, went to the living. He breathed in and out slowly before he went to Rio. His sister was there and there was blood on her too. Wherever she was looking, wherever she stared off to, it didn’t seem to be anywhere in the four walls. “Kid,” he said as softly as his gravel-laden voice could manage. Tentatively, he reached a hand toward him but did not touch him. “I’m gonna help but...the hell happened?”

“I’m in here,” Orion echoed when he heard Nic calling out his name. The scene hadn’t changed since Rio had called him and begged him to come over as quickly as possible. Rio had moved from the puddle of blood that his father had left behind and was instead making new blotches of blood on the floor beneath his stained jeans. He had moved away from Athena who had barely moved from her near comatose state. The image left two dead bodies and then two kids in fetal positions on the kitchen floor trying to do anything but stare at their parents. There was so much blood everywhere. Rio did his best to clean it off of himself and Athena, but there was only so much he was able to accomplish on his own.

Orion’s heart sank at the concerned look on Nic’s face when he got into the kitchen. Getting a genuine look of care and concern was so foreign inside of this house that it was somehow more frightening than the sight of his dead parents just feet from him. “I-” How did he explain this? This was self defense, at least in a way it had been. Maybe it wasn’t completely necessary at the moment, but Rio knew what his parents would have done if given the chance. The only reason that they had even gotten as far as they had was because their parents had underestimated them. “They were going to kill us.” Rio settled on, “We had to stop them and then- and then it was too late to stop and we-” Rio stopped talking so that he could grab onto the counter top and use it to pull himself off the ground and onto his feet. Tears were beginning to stream down his cheeks but he couldn’t do anything to stop them. He just wanted Nic to make things better, maybe a hug or two. But he was covered in blood and didn’t want to get it on Nic too. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know who else to call. I didn’t want to drag anyone into this but I don’t know what to do.”

Blood tracked on the floor like something wounded had passed through. As Nicodemus looked at Orion, he supposed something had. Even surrounded by the smell of copper and death setting in, the stressed furrow between his brow eased as he looked at Rio. Waited for him to talk. It wasn’t something that could be rushed. As the younger hunter talked, the older one fought the urge to say that it was better that they’re dead. It wasn’t what either of the siblings needed to hear and even he knew that, as corrosive as he could be. He went to Rio, a steady hand held out as the young man hefted himself up. There was blood on Rio’s hands, his shirt, everywhere. Nicodemus didn’t pay attention to it as he tentatively rested a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t say that it would be okay or that it was going to be alright. In that bloodied house, it wasn’t right to say. “I gotcha, kid,” was what he said as he gently pulled Rio into a one armed hug. Not long ago, he had been there to assure another of White Crest’s youth that the world hadn’t ended. Nell. He didn’t have a blanket with him this time. When would this fucking town let them rest? “We’ll get this handled, alright? Not goin’ anywhere ‘til we do. Nothin’ to apologize for.”

He let go of Rio and crouched down by Athena. Nicodemus’s voice teetered toward soft as he spoke. “We gotta get rid of the blood. D’you…” His words trailed as he glanced back toward Rio. “Ain’t gonna rush but we gotta get started somewhere. Might as well start with you two. Sound good?”

She could hear voices. One of them was familiar - her brother. She knew that she would recognize his voice anywhere. Maybe it was a twin thing, or maybe it was just the general familiarity that came along with knowing someone for twenty-one years. Athena couldn’t place the other voice. Their parents were dead. She couldn’t breathe. She wasn’t sure if she could even talk, right now. She still had blood on her hands and on her shirt, despite the work that her brother had done. She could feel his steady hand against her ribcage, against her hip. She was supposed to help him. Why couldn’t she?

The back of her throat burned, and she wondered for a moment if she was going to be sick. She was so used to blood - used to anything others must consider macabre. Heck, she’d been perfectly fine in every single biology class she’d taken, and had been more than okay with watching her father perform countless surgeries. Athena couldn’t deal with the red on the floor now. Then the other voice was louder and right by her ear and she felt her hand fly up to her mouth, catching a would-be scream. “I - who - I…” she trailed off again. “Okay. I - it’s so red.” Goodness, what kind of first impression was she making? Could you consider it a necessity to make a good first impression when your parents were dead on the ground? “Yes. It’s important to take things one at a time.” Her voice sounded practically robotic even to her. “I’m - you know who I am, right?” She looked between the man and her brother, not quite making eye contact with either of them. “We have soap by the sink and more in a closet just down the hallway.” She went to go stand up but couldn’t, her legs far too heavy to move. She was supposed to be the one light on her feet, always. “I - can - Ri?” She looked over to her brother, making eye contact for the first time in she didn’t know how long. “You - can you?”

Without Nic here, Orion honestly wasn’t sure he would have been able to do anything. Dragging him into this was not what Rio had wanted at all, but it had felt like a necessary evil. Or maybe that was just selfishness. The part of him that knew what this could mean if the police had found out. The Quinns had been well respected around town. Rio had always been the weird, quiet one. Would it have been that much of a stretch to think that he had snapped one day? Rio had only just finally found a life worth living in. For once, when he was in danger he wasn’t ready to accept his death. He had too many people in his life that he lived for now. He had to try to protect that. Nic was one of those relationships that Rio found so precious. It was only strengthened further by the man’s quick arrival and agreeing to help just based on the small amount of information that Rio was able to relay. When Nic pulled Rio into a hug, Rio wanted to cry. It didn’t matter how the length or size of the hug. It meant everything to him. He couldn’t tell if he was repeating his thanks in his head or if he kept telling Nic thank you on instinct, but it was all that ran through his head.

Athena spoke, a complete sentence for the first time since their mom had died. She wasn’t herself, that much was painfully obvious. Who knew that when worst came to worst, Orion would be the functioning sibling? Of course, this situation was far different from any other that the twins had been through together. “Yeah- yeah of course I’ll grab it.” Rio grabbed for more rags and soap, turning the faucet on and leaving it on as he went back over towards Athena and Nic. “I- uh.. I’m sorry in advance, Nic. It’s not always a pretty sight.” Any hunter that had been working long enough would have their fair share of scars. But any hunter worth their salt would easily be able to tell the difference. Athena’s usual hunter wounds were different than they had been before. Rio could tell when he tried to tend to the hip wound she had. Without Rio there, they had taken out their frustrations elsewhere. Her wounds would be a mixture of battle scars from Fae and other creatures and their parents. Rio’s entire body was a mixture of scars and burns caused by the cruelty of two parents dissatisfied with a child’s behavior. His wrist still stung, but Rio gingerly worked his hoodie up and over his head. The long sleeve shirt beneath was wet from blood soaking through it. After a long moment of internal debate, Rio decided to discard that as well, crossing his arms together afterwards to try to cover as much of his torso as he could. He needed new clothes. Athena did too. But first he needed to keep wiping blood away.

Worry came in at the eyes as Nicodemus looked them over. Wounds and wounding. He knew the two well. And he liked to think he knew Rio well enough to know that he wasn’t big on the latter. As he took soap and rag in hand, the hunter looked at the bodies of their parents. His eyes narrowed and it wasn’t a Christian thought that passed through him. Then again, he hadn’t been much of one for a long time. It didn’t linger long. “Rio,” he said as he looked back. “Ain’t nothin’ to apologize for, kid. You or her.” There was no way to describe Athena other than shell shocked but she seemed to be making do. As much a child could after doing away with their parents. Hunter children had that way about them. Making do with the crosses they were born to bear. Older hunters hadn’t done shit all to fix that.

Cleaning blood wasn’t strange to him and he took to it easily enough, working through the spatters with what could have been a troubling efficiency if he wasn’t numbed to it. “You two weren’t here,” he said as he looked at Rio, then at Athena. He waved his hand and ignored the pink tinge his fingertips took on. “An alibi, alright? Gonna make y’all up one. You weren’t here. That sound okay?” It would have to be, he thought with a grimace.

She could hear their voices but they still barely registered to her. Everything was a haze and her head felt far too heavy for its own good. Her eyes flickered up at the sound of her brother’s name - though the voice was still unfamiliar. How did Ri know all these people she didn’t? Athena brushed her hands against her skin where her hip had hit the table, tracing the growing bruise. She could feel his gaze on her for a moment and she looked up, nodding. They couldn’t be here. She wasn’t involved in the law by any means but she knew enough about it. Knew how to skirt it to some degree, because some people found fondness in the creatures she killed, and if she wasn’t careful she could get into trouble that batting her eyelashes and pouting to the school principal or any number of her teachers wouldn’t get her out of.

“Okay. We were not here. We were - we - Ri doesn’t live here anymore.” She looked at Nic, right in the eyes, looked at her brother too, but she didn’t register the eye contact. “I have friends. I can -” she winced for a moment as her fingertips found a particularly tender spot of skin. Athena took in a shaky breath. “I’ve never had an alibi before.”

Orion wasn’t sure what he would have done with Nic’s help here. He didn’t know how to handle Athena like this. He was pretty sure that she was in a state of shock which was understandable. All things considered, Rio probably should be. Though as the initial shock had begun to wear off Rio had found himself feeling increasingly... normal. If anything, the overwhelming feeling that took hold inside of Rio’s mind was relief. But he wasn’t quite sure how concerned he should be about that yet.

“Right. Alibis are a good idea.” Orion nodded in agreement, already thinking who he could ask. It was crazy thinking about how many people came to mind, and how much had changed since he had lived in this house. He had Nic or Blanche or Winston to fall back to after this. He knew immediately that they would do anything for him, though he hardly wanted to put that stress on them. “It’s going to be okay,” Rio turned towards Athena in an attempt to comfort her, “We’ve had alibis our whole life. Covers for why we had to go home right after school and why we would disappear on weekends. Our twenty-first birthday just ended. It would make sense that you were out somewhere celebrating rather than at the house. Just find someone that you can trust, okay?” Tip swung back towards Nic, “I don’t know what the police are going to think of this. A home invasion, maybe?” Rio crossed his arms in thought as he pondered exactly what this scene looked like, because it looked personal. “In the basement. When police investigate they’re going to realize that my parents aren’t who they said they were. It’s... it’s pretty grim down there. Maybe they’ll think it was revenge?”

Nicodemus had barely ever needed to establish an alibi for himself, let alone for a pair of kids that had just murdered their abusive parents. Murdered. That was a word that had his heart thrumming wildly as he took in deep breaths to calm himself. It wasn’t murder. Self-defense. But he didn’t know how that would fly in White Crest. Rio didn’t deserve to have his life cut short because he protected himself. Neither did Athena. Not when they had severed the blood ties that tried to dictate how they were meant to live. What their lives meant. He met Athena’s eyes but could tell she wasn’t quite looking at him. That was fine. For now, distancing themselves from this however they could would work.

“Your birthdays?” The question came out slow. Uncertain. “Jesus fuckin’ Chri--Sorry, sorry.” Nicodemus didn’t swear in front of Rio. It had gotten easier over the months but with the smell of dead and blood in the air, it was hard. “Neither of you were here because you were out with friends doing birthday stuff like...like kids do. You weren’t here at all and hadn’t been most of the day.” They aren't kids anymore, he thought as he looked at them. They hadn’t been for a long time, he supposed. Childhood had a way of dying the moment your small hand curled around a knife hilt and you were told that death was the way of living. He knew he was a hypocrite to think it. “Can make it look like a home invasion, yeah. Kick the door in, break some stuff. Everyone has enemies. It looks enough like it’s personal.” Violent. Another word for it. A brow lifted as Rio mentioned the basement. “What’s down there?”

She wanted to back away from her brother’s touch, but she couldn’t. He was safe, and she had to believe that. He was all she had, in the end. Athena nodded again. “We’re twenty-one.” They were twenty-one, so why did Athena feel more like a vulnerable child than she’d felt in years? “We - Ri always - we always stay up in the last moments of our birthday together.” She shook her head, still not quite making eye contact. Athena wasn’t entirely sure if she could handle that. Someone she could trust. Her brother was the person she trusted most, but that wouldn’t work. The two of them would be too tied together, were that the case. Ariana. That was the only other option. She couldn’t come looking like this to her sorority house, and she and Ariana had a pact - to always be honest with one another. “I have someone.” She blinked, letting her breath slow down. Looked at her brother and mouthed - Ariana. Just so he would know. Just in case.

“Our parents…” wouldn’t have enemies, she wanted to say. Could Athena realistically say that right now? She wasn’t sure. She wanted to say that they were good, to say that they wanted to do good, and perhaps they had, in a certain way, but she also knew that they had just wanted to kill her and her brother, and had planned to try to kill her brother years before. That much she couldn’t forgive. “Down where?” She shook her head. “It’s - nothing. It's my dad’s - our dad’s workspace. He experimented. It’s - we watched, because it’s important to learn through practice.” She looked over to her brother, making a facsimile of eye-contact. It wasn’t quite there, not yet, but it was more there than it had been.

Athena seemed a million miles away. Orion didn’t know how to feel about that. The two of them were both victims, Rio knew that. But still he had always felt like the black sheep. Like his isolation was somehow worse or lonelier than hers was. But maybe that wasn’t completely the case. Rio didn’t have many friends growing up like Athena, but that meant that he didn’t have people in his life that he had to keep his entire life a secret from. That must have been just as lonely. Tonight, her ramblings seemed to speak to no one in particular. She spoke to Rio and Nic, but her voice drifted off as she said the words. By the end, when she talked about her parents it felt more like the same useless lines they had heard their entire lives rather than an actual explanation. Rio shifted eyes, meeting Nic’s before switching to give a concerned glance at Athena. Maybe Nic could help her get to wherever she was going after this. Rio was pretty confident that he could get back to his house safely and quietly.

Ignoring what she had said, Rio decided to explain himself. “My dad is- er well was a surgeon. He liked to… learn about Fae. Werewolves too, but mostly Fae. He would examine them. Try to find new weaknesses and ways to kill them. It wasn’t pretty. And there’s no way to clean it up. There’s a whole operating theater down there.” Rio didn’t want to clean up their mess. He wanted people to see them for who they actually were. Monsters. “Break some stuff…” Rio’s voice trailed off, imagining ways to sell the home invasion look. “Hold on.” He left the kitchen, sliding around the hall and into the garage, coming back with golf clubs that Athena and his dad would use when they went golfing together. Rio gripped one tightly in his hands, the only part of his body that seemed to feel much stress. Otherwise, he was eerily calm. “Where do we start?”

Athena seemed to be slowly coming back from wherever she had wandered to. Nicodemus thought it best to save any birthday wishes for a later time. Right then, with blood and scars out in the open, it didn’t feel right. None of it did but they were dealing with it as best they could. It is what it fuckin’ is, he thought. “Can get you to ‘em.” He nodded to her. They could figure it out later, when the scene was set and they were making their quick exits. As Rio explained what it was that was in their basement, his expression flattened. He had heard stories of hunters like that, the kind that liked to pick species apart in order to learn. He couldn’t say much. He picked them apart for a profit. So he didn’t say a thing. Not until Rio came back with a golf club in hand.

“Start from the outside in,” Nicodemus said. “I’ll go out, alright? You two can stay in here. Be back in a minute, alright? Ain’t leavin’ you.” The discomfort that filled him when he glanced at Rio and Athena, recalled what he had seen, was immeasurable. It wasn’t kind to wish ill upon the dead but he did and didn’t feel bad about it. Didn’t feel much at all as he wrapped a towel around his hand and opened the back door. The home looked like a home. The idealized kind. The kind that movies and television showed. The furrowed skin between his brows smoothed and he began to break. Quiet as he could but just as harsh.

“No - I can - I can drive.” If she was going to go to Ariana’s house, the very last thing she wanted was to bring another hunter there. As much as he was willing to help Athena and Orion, she didn’t know what kind of hunter he was nor anything else, and she didn’t wish to further compromise him by having him be seen with her outside of the home. “Thank you, though.” She added. It was critical to be polite to those in a position of authority. Her gaze found her parents’ bodies again and she seized up, coughing for a moment before she could refocus. That’s not respectful, a voice in the back of her head, one she didn’t recognize, told her. That’s a scandal. They only cared for you. “They wanted to murder my brother.” She spoke in response, her hand finding her mouth as she did so. That wasn’t supposed to have been spoken aloud.

“Okay.” She pressed her thighs together, the pressure reassuring in its own way. Watched the golf clubs come in, watched the other man pick one up, hand wrapped in a towel. No fingerprints, then. She felt herself jump as the sound of glass permeated the too-quiet air. Athena looked up at her brother, staring at him in much the similar way that she had when they’d been children. “He - how do you know him?”

Orion glanced at Athena when she spoke aloud, seemingly to herself. Everything about her demeanor was making him incredibly nervous. For anyone else, this was a totally normal reaction for someone whose parents had just died. This was the sort of shock and retreat that Rio expected himself to feel if he had ever been forced to take a life. It was how he felt when he had killed that troll. Was something wrong with him that a troll elicited a greater reaction from Rio than two human lives? But Rio knew what Athena was experiencing. That voice inside of her head feeding her self doubt. How did Rio try to fix that? He owed it to her after all, didn’t he? She was in this mess because of him. Or maybe it was the opposite. Maybe she owed him now. Not that it mattered.

Even though Rio knew it was coming, he still jumped when he heard glass breaking. He breathed a heavy sigh, gently placing his hand on Athena’s shoulder to offer the only amount of comfort he knew how to give. “He saved me once. From a vampire. Since then we stayed in contact.” Nic meant way more than Rio could ever find the words to explain, especially to Athena. How did he explain to her that he had filled the role of a parental figure Rio had so desperately needed to his sister, who had spent her entire life idolizing two people they had just killed? “He’s a really, really good guy. He’s always there for me if I need him. And he’s here to help us.” Rio removed his hand, opting instead to grip tightly onto the gold club with both hands. He moved slowly towards the living room area and shrugged towards Athena, “Here goes nothing I guess.” Then he swung at their television, shattering the screen. But he was far from finished.

He nodded in understanding at Athena. The older hunter didn’t know what reassurances he could offer. Through words, at least. Those troublesome things Nicodemus had always been shit at. So he stuck to what he knew. Silence and breaking. Shattering. The art of leaving nothing behind when the next step was taken. It was the most he could offer the twins, other than his presence. Between it all, he couldn’t help but hear Rio. A good man. He had heard that before. Recently, even. He supposed good men helped cover up murders from time to time. Maybe that was how it worked. The concept of right and wrong was skewed, easily swayed. He went on breaking out the windows that led to the backyard. Broke them inward so the glass spewed out onto the floor. He climbed in and stepped over the pieces carefully. Looked over his handiwork and frowned. With heavy steps, he came to stand by Rio. Glanced over toward Athena.

“You’re...good too,” he said slowly. He took in a heavy breath. He glanced at the bodies again. They were likely starting to go cold. “Even with…” Nicodemus trailed. Shook his head. “You just are. Nobody gets to tell you otherwise. No one can take it away from you.” Their parents had tried to, he reckoned. Wanted them to be something righteous in the way that blood was shed. He frowned. Righteousness didn’t have a place in what they did or what they were. They just were. The way others just were.

She couldn’t help herself - each time she could hear the golf clubs collide with the glass she felt like jumping. She did her very best to avoid that, but the sound reverberated in her ears. This will help, this will turn suspicion away from us - she reminded herself, the mantra hardly reassuring. The sooner Athena got out of all of this, the better. At least Rio had known someone to call. Her mind flashed briefly to Oscar and she felt like she was going to be sick all over again. “He’s here to help.” She repeated. She was going to have to lie to Oscar, because this would be all over the news in no time. She admired him, but what would he think if he knew what she’d just done? He doesn’t know what my parents did to me and my brother, Athena reassured herself. Everything will be okay.

She finally pushed herself up and off the ground, making her way over to the cabinets. Grabbed one of her favorite childhood mugs. Grabbed one of Orion’s, too - ones that they’d used for hot chocolate around holiday times. She threw each of them against the tiled floor, the shattering of china more satisfying that she would have readily liked to admit. Athena, for good measure, grabbed a few other plates and bowls, letting them fall over. “Collateral damage,” she murmured, “just for good measure.”

Breaking things came easily to Orion. Unsurprisingly, it turned out Rio had a lent of pent up anger to take out against the house that he had been raised in. Smashing things came way too easily to him, shattering the glass tv stand and the pictures and plants they had within the living room. It was completely destroyed within minutes, the shattering sounds from the kitchen proving that Athena had been able to help. They would have to do this to everything. They couldn’t leave their rooms untouched, or the basement. It would be a methodical process, but an important one.

When Nic came back in, trying to remind Orion that he was a good person, Rio could only nod. He didn’t feel like a good person, though he rarely did. “Thank you. Seriously, I don’t know how I could possibly repay you. Even if you won’t let me.” Rio smiled at him, a genuine one even if the mood didn’t exactly call for one. “I think we should move my dad’s body to the basement. If people think it’s a revenge plot then it may make sense for him to be down there. I don’t know this isn’t my forte, clearly.” Rio sighed. “Whatever we do. We need to get out of here sooner rather than later. Just to be safe.”

It was surreal watching Orion and Athena take to their childhood home like small storms. How often had Nicodemus thought of doing just the same damn thing? Of ripping through stone and crosses and molded wood like something unrestrained? Every day, he reckoned, if the wind went by just right and the sun was where it should be. One day. Maybe. His own storm might come calling home. The smile he returned to Rio was small. Tired. “Ain’t gotta worry about that right now. I’ll help you get ‘im down there,” he said quietly. “And then we better get. Ain’t tryin’ to rush but…” He glanced down at the bodies before he started to lift up the father. “Been here long enough and y’all ought to get somewhere safe.”

“You - I…” she felt her voice break as Athena heard them discuss moving the bodies. She really was going to be sick. She could count the tiles on the floor. She could feel her rings against her fingers. She avoided thinking about the smell. That wasn’t going to help anyone out. Her gaze found the Christmas photo on the fridge again and she felt a shudder crawl through her whole body. “We need to get somewhere soon. I need to - I have to pack a bag before I go. Not too much. We can’t - people are going to ask questions. We -” She bit her lip, pleading with herself to actually form coherent thoughts. God, what was she going to tell Ariana? She had to tell her the full truth, even though she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to explain any of this. “You - just don’t - be careful with the blood. If too much tracks people can tell that you moved a body.” She could hear her father repeating some of the same words, back when they’d trapped a fae together, the satisfaction and eagerness she had with the knife too much. Be careful, Athena, acting rashly may satisfy in the moment but will only serve those we seek to eradicate in the long run. “The police will search for that. So just - be careful, please?”

Orion nodded at Nic. He was right. The neighbors wouldn’t be awake for a few hours, but they were nosey. If they got up to get a glass of water or go to the bathroom they’d notice the lights on and remember it when the police started showing up. These people gossiped like crazy. Moving to help Nic, Rio heard Athena talk and paused. “Yeah- Good point. You’re right.” He moved towards her and lowered his voice. Not because he didn’t think Nic would be able to hear, clearly he could. But because Athena didn’t look like she could handle any higher volume, “Hey. You should go. Seriously. Nic and I just have a couple more things to do and then we are going to get out of here. Ariana lives farther away than I do. It’s going to take you some time to get there. Okay? We’ll talk later.” That wasn’t a promise so much as it was an unfortunate fact. The two would be called in and questioned by the police once the bodies were discovered. Rio and Athena would be seeing more of each other sooner rather than later. Giving a small wave and nod, Rio turned away from his sister and back to help grab onto his father’s body, already hoisted up by Nic. He avoided looking at his father’s body by studying Nic’s expression. Rio could never repay this man, but he hoped that Nic would still be able to see Rio the same. “Okay uh- let’s wrap up here so we can get out of here.”

#wickedswriting #c orion #c nic #chatzy #finally free #emotional abuse mention #physical abuse mention #// more soft!!!#lora and cody are delights #rio and nic are perfect

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eutaerpe · 6 years ago

Text

the kim social test

pairing — jungkook x reader

word count — 15.4k

genre/warnings— fluff, friends to lovers au. domestic!jungkook, jungkook in a towel, kissing, mentions of sex. and they were roommates! trope, namjoon is attractive (even though we all knew this), mentions of drinking because Taehyung creates the Kim Social Test while drunk and Jimin prompts to get wasted maybe more than once. who knows. rom com undertones?

summary — “I’m moving out.” These are the first words Jungkook hears on a fatal Thursday morning, hands holding onto the kitchen counter. A mixed feeling paints his expression. “I know we haven’t talked about this, but I think we both know that it’s the right thing to do. I can’t stay here anymore.”

alternatively, “it takes more than five exhibits for you to prove that Jungkook is a zero, according to the Kim Social Test”.

notes — i accidentally started writing this in first person. 3k words into the story i realized my mistake lmao i thought about changing it, but it would have affected the writing style of TKST which was supposed to be a short thing about jungkook and the reader shy panicking, moving in together, becoming friends and guk eventually getting a blowjob. life really be like that sometimes, huh? anyway i hope you all don’t mind because tkst is my baby ♥︎ it might be flawed and i, for myself, can already see space for improvement. reading my a smoking party draft, i can see how much i’ve improved. this style is something fresh and new for me lol i’m so excited to share something i’ve worked on since january. let me know what you think ♥︎

THE KIM SOCIAL TEST

(or “it takes three attempts to realize that Taehyung can be, indeed, right too”)

“I’m moving out”

These are the first words Jungkook hears on a fatal Thursday morning, hands holding onto the kitchen counter.

A mixed feeling paints his expression.

“I know we haven’t talked about this, but I think we both know that it’s the right thing to do,” I add, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, “I can’t stay here anymore.”

“So, you’re moving out. Definitely,” he ruffs his own hair, voice steady and low, his typical morning voice. Even though it seems like he’d like to add more — start asking questions, clear any doubt — I interrupt him, trying to sound as firm as possible.

“Absolutely,” then he nods, slowly, “I’m moving out.”

HYPOTESYS: JUNGKOOK IS A ONE

— 6 months earlier —

It starts like this.

“I’m moving out,” I declare, as Jimin opens a bottle of beer. “Tomorrow, as a matter of fact.”

Taehyung beams, excited, “Y/N! That’s amazing!” - he engulfs me in a friendly hug, laughing openly - “With this short notice? Fucking fantastic. Where are you going to stay, then?”

I see Jimin filling our glasses, a satisfied smile on his lips, too.

I can’t help but sigh at the sight. Things are going to run smoothly from now on. I can feel it. All according to my plan, nevertheless. God knows how much I wanted that job - (“Hello, Namjoon! Yes, it’s still me, any news on the… yes, I know, trust me, I know it’s only been a couple days, yes, they usually take a week or two to choose the interns, let alone the newcomers… That can do! What’s four, five more days? I can wait for weeks. It’s not like I have a place on the line. Or my whole life. Mhm. Yeah. Yes,” smiling sardonically, I start tapping my fingers on the desk, “Always a sweetheart. Thank you again, Namjoon!”) - wanted out of that small, reeking apartment I had, up until yesterday, to share with two guys I hope I’ll never meet again in my life (as Jimin once said, get wasted with me and you’ll forget them. As Taehyung once replied, have sex with me and you’ll even forget your own name. I agreed to the first reasonable proposal, but apparently even getting drunk with Jimin doesn’t help. Especially if, after the second Negroni, sometime before sipping from the glass Jager, you stop thinking clearly and end up at your place with a heavy Jimin partially covering your figure. Ergo, we went home. We woke up with a terrible headache just as my I’d-rather-forget roommate greeted us, more than partially naked, definitely wasted, absolutely stenching).

“I-uh, I think you know the guy? At least, mentioned him a couple of times over the years? Jeon Jungkook?”

Taehyung raises an eyebrow, tongue wetting the upper lip. “The Jeon Jungkook?”

“Roommate of Min Yoongi? The one and only?”

“Yeah, he’s leaving for an internship abroad he didn’t think would win, so he left Jungkook with such a short notice he had to actually go look for someone to pay half the rent with,” I explain, “What’s up with the tone, though? He seemed nice. Over the phone he almost sounded shy. And I’m the one saying he seemed shy. I couldn’t talk to any of you for the first weeks of high school even though we walked the same way home and had known each other for years. Me!”

“The chances of Jungkook being shy are the same as me being a virgin,” Jimin explains, rolling his eyes.

I furrow my forehead. Things don’t add up. “I don’t believe you,” My purple haired friend drops dramatically his head on his hands, “Not the virgin part, I know you won’t tell me whom you had your first time with, which, by the way, rude, but I’m pretty sure there has been one to begin with— “

“Trust me, there’s been even more than one with that same person.”

“Taehyung, gross,” I exclaim, “Not the point. I’m not interested in your sexual life— “

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” Tae shrugs. Jimin groans. I close my eyes, red staining my cheeks—See? Shy! I told them. I’m the shy one. And I can sense a shy one around me. Jungkook gives off this… timid vibe. I’m sure of it, I can’t be wrong, for God’s sake.

“I don’t believe you, at all. Twenty bucks says the guy’s a timid, socially awkward introvert too nervous to muster up the courage to even talk to me.”

They look at me in disbelief. I can’t believe them. I have good instincts. They know it, too. So what? They mentioned the guy a few times over the years. It’s inevitable—they’re friendly, outgoing, extroverts. They know people. They inevitably bump into people when they’re out partying and going to class and joining groups and going to the gym.

Apparently, there are people who can juggle between three different activities while at college. Activities that don’t include showing up to classes, calling your mother at least once a week, and searching for a job. Duh. Who knew?

People nowadays judge before getting to know others. It’s something millennials and elders have in common, every now and then.

Plus, rumours are worse than the Black Plague. You wake up and tell a friend you feel this is your lucky day, then it turns out people say you got up flexing on how you got lucky. And you had your walk of shame. While sore. And naked. Because in this fucked-up scenario, you’re born confident in your own body. And your walk of shame is very valid, even though it’s in your own house. (Read: this is a fucked-up scenario) Gasp! How rumours fly. How much stories are accurately changed and automatically deterred with a simple misunderstanding.

It’s 2019, for Christ’s sake. Give the kid the benefit of the doubt.

“Agreed,” Jimin says, a smug grin on his lips, right before Taehyung shakes my hand, smirking openly.

EXHIBIT A

Okay, so. In hindsight, it’s 2019. Never trust first impressions. Or your superb instincts.

Jungkook? Older than me. Just slightly, however. Bigger than me. Bulkier than what I imagined him to be. Sure, he had a sweet voice but what’s the point, huh, when you’re almost six feet tall and as intimidating as Jimin when he’s dancing? Or Tae when he plays the piano?

“I call bullshit, what the fuck,” I hiss, holding onto my phone, “You agreed to this even after I told you ‘I can’t believe you, you’re fucking making this up’?”

“Especially after that,” Tae sighs, and I want to punch him, “I can’t say no to free money. Well, fairly earned money.”

“Where’s fairness in all this? You let me move in. With a guy. That is—how can I say this?”

“Hot? Very fuckboy-ish?”

I refrain myself from answering. What have I gotten myself into? So much for things finally running smoothly.

“Very Not Shy,”

“Oh, what a curious phrasing. Have you talked to him yet? Or better—proved my Kim Social Test right?”

The Kim Social Test – also widely known among your friends as the infamous Kim Taehyung’s third attempt to be right – is something he made up while tipsy (because he can’t possibly hold his liquors, although one would never hear this coming out from Taehyung’s own mouth), frowning and frustrated. It’s more like an investigation of all sorts aimed to prove one’s social skills, ranking from one, id est a nice, cute introvert who, given the chance, will surprise you, to twenty-three, as in the years Tae and Jimin had known each other when Tae made this test up. Not that I’ll ever admit it to him, but I suppose there’s partial truth somewhere in between all those steps, fuelled by the dark-haired friend of mine’s interest in psychology, reverse psychology, communication, and his instincts.

Step one: talk to the person in question.

Step one failed.

Unless Jungkook’s the one trying to test the KST on me.

“What I’m trying to say,” I begin, unsure, “Is that he smiled. Offered to help with my things. Explained how things work here – anything from the absurd no dating slash no couples! policy, to how to deal with neighbours. Turns out that the landlord is staying on the floor below ours, while the landlord’s son in on the floor above. But I’m digressing,” Taehyung snorts, the great friend, “He was being nice—borderline over friendly, then said not to mind his absence, every now and then, because he needs to de-stress, if I know what he means, and I’m always free to try his car with, uh, him, if I know what he means.”

“So, your paranoid ass is trying to tell me he hit on you twice?”

“I’m finally out of that squalid place even you promptly detested and I knock into this splendid flat – you should see how neat and spacious it is – only for it to be inhabited by some horny guy who’s keen on getting laid. Tell me how I should feel, Taehyung.”

Taehyung stays silent for a hot second, slightly worrying me that he hung up on me.

“I’ll tell you what,” – the best friend suggests, while I start twisting my ring – “Jiminie and I are coming over this evening. He’ll see us, he’ll understand, he’ll back off. In this precise order. You in?”

“Roger that, captain.”

This prompts Taehyung’s laugh, loud and dazzling, the comforting noise filling my ears.

EXHIBIT B

Step one: talk to the person in question.

A month ago, this mere action would have terrified me. Which is a solemn hypocrite thing of me to think, now, because, as a matter of fact, it threw me off. Not one bit of me was safe and sound, after I non-talked to Jungkook when I moved in. I didn’t think I’d ever muster up the courage to converse to him—maybe just to politely decline his feeble and frantic advance.

(“Fuck, you’re so dramatic,” were Jimin’s first words when I opened the door that night. Maybe so, Park.)

However, I was substantially right. I soon realized that maybe my roommate – twenty-two, almost 6 feet tall, shows a playful tendency to wear only commonly dark clothes – really is shy. After Jimin and Taehyung came over, that very same day, he turned into a mess, avoiding altogether eye contact with me, backing away even when my friends – not anymore concerned – offered him dinner.

A spur of bravado, we agreed later on that day. Known that – understanding that maybe he was just as excited and terrified about the new intruder as I was—made us magically forget altogether about that small… incident. About the awkward spur of bravado, I mean.

“Tough Tuesday shift?”

Jungkook is spread on the couch, his long form lost among all the cushions. He’s holding what I assume are papers he needs to grade, several of them scattered on the coffee table before a mug of tea and three red pens. Being an assistant teacher suits him, in a way. He’s tidy, neat, precise – I’ll never stop repeating this sudden realization in my mind. He revealed, on a late night, the movie long forgotten, that doing the laundry calms his nerves. Can’t quite believe that this is the same person who implied he needed sex to relax.

“Let’s say Namjoon doesn’t forget easily,” I try to joke as he grins warmly, adjusting on the couch so that he faces me more comfortably. He studies me as I take off my coat, his inquiring gaze following every move I make – including me staring back at him.

“Seokjin-hyung came by, an hour ago or so,” he announces, passing a hand on the dark grey sweater hugging his torso, “Left something he prepared because he’s convinced I can’t cook. The very same person who taught me how to properly feed myself—can you believe it?”

Although his tone is teasing, tainted by almost pure disbelief, he keeps on grinning. I chuckle. “Yeah, how rich of him.”

“If you’re not planning anything, we could have real dinner together. Finish Haikyuu!’s third season on the couch. We could even just complain about your boss, really. If you’re up for it, I mean,” he rubs the nape of his neck, discarding on the coffee table the papers that moments ago he was holding.

That’s the thing about Jungkook. He’s his very own person, discreet, kind, nonetheless quiet. He does things a lazy eye wouldn’t even notice; someone uncaring would not bat their eyes at his deep, silent actions that speak more than words could ever. It’s more than just wearing his heart on his sleeve – it’s caring and being attentive not just because sometimes it’s convenient or it casually happens. There’s meaning beside his every action, led by his desire to truly be helpful. I can’t shake the feeling that he’s really not the person people make him out to be, and I mentally scoff at Tae and Jimin’s antics when I said ‘Jeon Jungkook?’ and they had answered with ‘The Jeon Jungkook?’, staining his… persona. His kind soul.

I hum, nodding eagerly.

“Yeah, it sounds amazing. I’d like that.”

His bunny smile makes a bashful appearance.

***

Step two: pay attention to the body language. Spot the differences between how the person in question talks and acts.

The first time I hear about Mina it’s on a Wednesday afternoon, and Jungkook’s not home.

Following Namjoon around for the entire day meant that the smart, charming new leader of the Publishing Department – a promotion he got a few days after I became his colleague – got, at the same time, amused by my… consistency and tired of having me as his new shadow.

He, of course, understands what it means to be new, fresh out of college and passionate about my new job and has tried, for the past few days, to challenge my abilities – perhaps soon, yes, but the glint in Namjoon’s dark eyes tells me that he sees in me the same young guy he was himself, not even a long time ago. Hence the try-doing-this-on-your-own with its thrilling sequel I’ll-be-here-when-you’re-done he’s thrown on me lately.

Which is a nice way of saying you’ve become bearable but as the new leader I’ve got more work on my hands, so I can’t guide you through this new world slash don’t make me regret trusting you. I swear, this man has a way with words Hemingway could never.

Anyway, this explains why I’m working on this novel – the debut work of a young writer Namjoon firmly believes in – in our living room, laptop on my thighs and manuscript in my hands. On a Wednesday afternoon. Alone. Because Jungkook’s Wednesdays are, in this order, full of assholes actual-professors that expect the most from him, gym, kick boxing with Yugyeom, and finally coming back home to hit the shower and fucking rest.

Apparently, however, Yoongi isn’t aware of his former roommate’s schedule, because he’s Skype-calling him, in this very moment. I’m not snooping into his stuff, not at all, it’s just that the last time they did this – having a video call like two adorable siblings – Jungkook used my laptop and forgot to log out. Which is a very good explanation for why Min Yoongi’s eyes are staring into mine.

“Y/N?”

“Hi,” I splutter, as surprised as he sounded. “Seems like Guk forgot to log out since you last talked.”

“Oh,” he murmurs, hands in his wet, mint hair. “Is he home? I’ve been trying to get a hold of him, but the kid’s been avoiding all my calls.”

That doesn’t sound like Jungkook. Sure, he’s not winner of the year for the fastest replier ever existed, but in decent time – which can vary between two hours and two days – he gets the message (pun intended) and decides to grace his acquaintances with an answer. Or a call back.

“No—Wednesdays are usually the worst week-days for him,” as I explain, though, I can’t help but notice the deep sigh Yoongi exhales. Or the tiredness of his expression. “…but as soon as I see him, I can deliver a message for you, if you want? He’s gonna be tired, no joke, but I’ll make him call you back, I promise.”

The sympathetic smile he sends my way makes me want to punch my roommate. Which would probably hurt like hell, if the ungodly hours he spends at the gym are anything to go by.

Still: Min Yoongi being exhausted because of him is a good reason why I should at least try to hit him. Min Yoongi is Jimin’s… idol, famous in the music department with a deceiving reputation of being anything but sociable. Wrong, terribly wrong. He’s not. He’s a small loving and caring friend in the body of a small human. The amount of times he called to make sure Jungkook was okay is— truly admirable. (He even helped Jimin with a project of his, once. Hence the epithet of the one and only. I have a terrific theory of him being somehow linked to my Jimin, but no one has still dared to answer me. Jerks. Tae and him both.)

“Sure. Tell him his to talk to his girlfriend. I’m tired of having her blabbing no stop about how much of a jerk he’s turned into lately and disputing whether declining her calls means he’s cheating on her or a strategy of his that will end with Jungkook surprising her on their anniversary.”

Wait, what?

“Jungkook has a girlfriend? He’s in a… romantic relationship that doesn’t involve playing Overwatch with Taehyung on Friday nights?”

“You don’t know about Mina?”

“What the fuck is a Mina?”

He stills for a second. “I… I don’t understand. Are you shitting me?”

“I’m not. I know there’s a strict rule about not bringing your dates over and not fucking in this apartment, but I’ve never heard of her. He never mentioned her. I’ve never seen this girl, never even knew she existed before you told me.”

Yoongi begins scratching his forearms. He tilts his head, staring into the void of his room.

“What the fuck,” is the final summary of his train of thoughts. Yeah, what the hell. “I’m not sure I want to be part of this helping circle anymore. We always joked that Jungkook would turn out to be the reason why Jin-hyung will have grey hair, but I never imagined he’d be mine too. I swear, this kid.”

“I can still talk to him, though. This isn’t lying, not even sure if it counts as lying by omission but…” I shrug, “I don’t know. I’m wondering why he kept his mouth shut.”

Yoongi mutters something I can’t make out, then asks if I can still deliver the message and abruptly ends the conversation.

You live for a month with a guy and think you know him. It stings in a funny way knowing you don’t.

Jungkook finds me on the couch when he comes back home. He has tiredness written all over his face – his crinkled forehead, his sweaty appearance; I can sense it among the silent grunt and deep sighs he exhales thinking I’m not in the living room.

“Hey,” I pout, eyes on the manuscript.

My roommate turns around in a swift move, eyes wide open. “You still up?”

He’s tired. I know he’s tired. His velvet voice doesn’t betray his shape. I don’t buy it.

I hum, turning on the couch so that he can’t see my face, my eyes still on the novel. I can see him pausing and wondering what’s going on in the periphery of my sight.

“Yoongi wants to let you know you should stop ignoring him and your girlfriend so she can stop pestering him. Virtually hugs you and sends a thousand kisses, too.”

He doesn’t say anything for a while, but then I hear his footsteps and I see him in front of me, licking his lips, lost in his thoughts. His fingers move continuously on the bag he’s holding. As I focus my gaze on his face, I realise that what hurts more is that he didn’t trust me enough with this information rather than not fully knowing him, my roommate. It doesn’t concern this specific piece of information, per se, more the fact that he didn’t feel comfortable enough in sharing something that is supposed to make him cheerful and proud. Maybe I projected much, I don’t know? Just because you share a flat with someone it doesn’t mean he’s your friend.

“I didn’t mean to keep this a secret—I swear…” he trails off, and I bite back a laugh, delusion hitting me.

“You don’t have to explain yourself, Jungkook. I’m not your mom and sure as fuck I’m not your confidant. I’m just your roommate. I’m sure it would have come up, if you had to sexile me because of her. Don’t worry,” I spit out, at once regretting my harshness, “I get it.”

“You don’t, though. You don’t know me,” he begins, following me when I get up.

“I know I don’t!”

“I don’t mean it that way, fuck! Y/N!” - he grabs my wrists, eyes darting into mine – “We’re… we’re just in a bad place right now. We needed a pause, I begged for it, but she didn’t want to, so I’m—uhm, choosing not to deal with her at the moment. We’re going through a lot,” he says, pondering his words, thumbs moving on my hands. I freeze at the contact.

“Yoongi doesn’t know. Because she’s mad at me for something that happened a long time ago when we weren’t together. And, fuck, I don’t want Yoongi to think about that time. I don’t want to think about that time. I didn’t think she’d pester him, shit”

The high-pitched laughter he lets out almost frightens me. Jungkook’s fidgeting look pushes me to intertwine our hands. I don’t have time for disbelief towards my own gesture—his former, floating discomfort strays gradually from his body as I do so.

I keep the eye contact with his doe eyes—it happens then. His breathing comes back to normal, his fingers grasp firmly mine. I’m here, I want to say.

I only manage a quiet: “It’s okay. It’s okay, Jungkook” that has him nodding, sure.

“I’m gonna take a shower.” he announces.

“Sure,” I breath out, “Listen. I know I’m not probably the person you’d want to have this conversation with… but if you don’t feel like bothering Yoongi – which you’re not. Unless you call him in the middle of the night – you can always talk to me. Count on me.”

Jungkook pinches the bridge of his noise.

“Wouldn’t it bother you?”

“Of course not, you giant baby.”

He chuckles. “Alright. Wait for me?”

“I’m ready when you are.”

***

“Is there a way to turn sad stories into happy ones?”

My hands fall around the mug. “Have you always been this dramatic or did Yugyeom punch you so hard you’re not well functioning?”

He bites back a laugh. “We both know I’d need a stronger hook to lose consciousness, c’mon.”

“I don’t know,” I play pretend, “The other day Jin barely slapped you and you looked like you wanted to cry.”

“Hey!” his hot cocoa is long forgotten, “I’ll have you know he’s older than me—”

“Oh, so now age matters?”

“—and has been playing kick-boxing for a lot longer than I have. Obviously, he knows what he’s doing!”

“It was just a friendly slap!”

He scoffs, still smiling.

“You know, when Yoongi called he asked me if I knew about Mina and I answered, ‘what the fuck is a Mina?’ which, in hindsight, it’s not a very kind thing to ask.”

Jungkook bursts into a quiet laugh, back against the wall. Maybe being on the carpet isn’t a suiting position to have a talk—about serious matters, too. But Jungkook’s comfortable, and as long as he is, I really don’t care.

It was weird seeing him, even if just for a fraction of a second, losing control.

Maybe he needs a friend more than he knows.

“I met Mina a long time ago. Sophomore year, maybe? I had been dating Sowon for two years then—Sowon and I met in high school, she was my first girlfriend. A bit older than me. When I got into college, we started fighting for the most meaningless things, though. For the last months, ours was an on and off relationship. We broke up and made up all the time; it was actually a relief when we broke up for good. That somehow changed me. I dreaded for anything but a relationship. Jin-hyung likes to say that I turned up to be a handsome fuckboy,” he laughs, staring into the mug, “Yoongi-hyung says it was terrible having me around. I was always off to parties and spent most of my nights in girls’ sororities. I’m not exactly proud of that period. Sowon had disappeared from life by then. I only saw her once again, when she found out I had been sleeping around. I don’t know, she got mad. Really mad. Tried to fuck Yoongi-hyung to get back at me.”

“That’s…” Jungkook looks at me, lips parted. I find out I don’t have it in me to continue my sentence.

“Not ideal, huh?”

“Far from ideal.”

“The hyungs helped a lot, back then. Mina, too. She was one of the girls I had been hooking up with. I can’t say what exactly changed in our relationship, or what she did to make me realize I didn’t want to be careless anymore. One day I started looking at her differently and…” he shrugs, “The rest is history.”

“Damn, and I thought for a solid second that my relationships of five months were a huge fucking goal.” He snickers. “How long have you two been together, then?”

“Two years? No, wait. Almost two years and a half. But lately she’s been hinting that she wants more. Her parents got married very young, and so did her sister. I think she kind of expected me to pop the question, half a year ago. But I haven’t. Which made her think I was cheating on her. Which I’m not. She thinks I’m twenty years old Jungkook all over again. Which, for the third time, I’m not.” He huffs. “I don’t know how to make her understand that we’re young and there’s so much we could be doing rather than worrying about getting married. Christ, I’m twenty-two. I’m barely studying for my master’s degree. She thinks I don’t love her, and it makes me so fucking mad. I begged for a pause. We need some time apart.”

“But you said she refused. Hence why you’re avoiding her.”

“Yeah.” He finishes his hot cocoa off. “Do you think I’m insane for wanting to distance myself for a while?”

“No, I don’t. It may sound cliché, but people who love each other don’t always see eye to eye. They change. Long term relationships require many compromises, and sometimes it’s hard to do that.” I throw my head back against the wall. Jungkook follows my movements with his gaze. “Sometimes you fall out of love, too. Things… happen. People change. There isn’t always a valid reason why. I think that recognizing change is brave. Forcing things to never shift it’s dangerous.”

A peaceful silence falls between our bodies. I can’t help but realize it’s very late. I sneak a look at Jungkook, who’s looking at me with his eyebrows furrowed. I’m glad he decided to trust me.

“You know, for being so short you’ve got an insane amount of wisdom inside of you.”

“Fuck off, Jeon”

He deserves every pillow I’ve thrown him.

EXHIBIT C

“And you expect me to say he’s not a jerk?”

“Well,” Lisa breathes out, downhearted. “I don’t think he knows the very meaning of kindness.”

As an ungainly rustle of papers fills my ears, she exhales, turning to Yuna, a scorn adorning her face.

“Look, have you seen the guy? He’s got a promotion and boom!, there he goes thinking he’s better than all of us combined. Don’t let him get to you, girl. He probably thinks that a discussion on the oxford comma is first date material. Fuck,” she then smiles, a curve void of sympathy, “The guy probably thinks he’s too good for a date. Do you recall the last time he looked as if he fucked someone’s brain out?” Yuna doesn’t answer, instead she opts for smoothing her shirt and Lisa smirks, proud. “My point exactly. He’s a poor jerk. Leave him be.”

It’s not considered eavesdropping if they’re sniping about Namjoon out in the open, right? I’m thrown aback for a solid minute, because, yes, Namjoon is a lot, a deeply wholesome and complex guy to have as your boss, but he’s not that bad. Sure, he has his moments – like any of us has – yet he’s attentive, caring, a tall mentor I’m delighted to have around.

Not to mention the fact that he’s attractive. It’s undeniable. He’s charming because he extrudes confidence when he arguments whilst gesticulating, when he talks back and smiles sharply, when his ideas are picked because original, fresh, on the spot. He trusts and gives, in a manner that can swipe anyone off their feet when adorned with his dimples.

Namjoon’s an attractive man, period.

I frown.

I plop on my chair, coffee in my mug.

Oh my God. Namjoon’s attractive. He’s hot. He’s smart. He’s sarcastic. His humour amazes me first thing in the morning when he hasn’t had his shots of coffee yet and has to talk to people.

Stop, Y/N. Okay, so what? He can be nice to have around. I’m at loss of words – thoughts – when a picture of Namjoon wearing slacks and a white shirt pops in my mind. White shirts fit him so well it’s unreal. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

“Hey, Y/N,” a voice startles me and, as my eyes widen, I turn towards the person in question, “Mind helping me with these?”

Namjoon – fit Namjoon, Kim I’m-wearing-beautiful-glasses Namjoon - points to papers a now hidden part of me I know she recognizes, and I find myself nodding like an idiot before I can even think of an eligible answer.

Think of unattractive people. People you’re not attracted to. People you would mind undressing you. Touching you. Hugging you. Think of…Jungkook.

Jungkook isn’t… my type. He’s warm, he’s soft with his bunny smile and happy eyes. He wears dark t-shirts on a daily basis. He snorts when his students write absurdities others would cry for. He once tried to inhale six packs of ramen just because Taehyung dared him to. I mentally chuckle at the memory. Think of Jungkook, I repeat to myself. The same Jungkook that swears when playing Overwatch. The same Jungkook that pouts when he studies and frowns as he focuses so hard.

Jungkook would never slam his partner against the door, hands in their hair. He’d never command them to go down on their knees before him. He’s only been in long term relationships. The guy’s probably not even a fan of PDA.

Jungkook is soft around the edges, and shy and cute and definitely someone I’m not attracted to.

“Sure,” I breathe out, a smile tugging at my lips, “Let me see.”

“So,” Jimin begins in a quiet whisper that has me wondering why he can’t speak out loud, “You want to bone your boss.”

I mentally scold the office policy and its daunting, cryptic suggestion to keep a semi-formal appearance. Which translates into high heels. I have to wear high heels. They would be heels – just heels, comfortable, classy, lovely heels – if only there wasn’t what Jungkook defines as height discrepancy. Which translates into I’m short. And it’s 2019. So short people are expected to be tall, in certain circumstances. Like office attire. Even though, to be honest, it’s also my fault. My fault for being so enamoured with the classy and charming – when I told him, Jungkook sneered so hard I thought he was seconds from combusting – clacking heels make on smooth floors.

“That’s—” absurd, I want to say, but I settle with a mellow “—right.”

He’s not wrong. I am in the wrong, though. I open the front door of our apartment building, almost soulless.

“You can’t have feelings for your boss,” Jimin sighs, and I hear in the distance a vague shuffling of clothes. “You can’t be sexually attracted to your boss, either.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” I greet our neighbours with a nod — actually, neighbour. The landlord, who is now heading out — and, as soon as she leaves, I groan loudly. With cattiness, I push the elevator button, my forehead pressed onto the wall next to it.

“We have to do something about it. This is not happening. And this clearly refers to you drooling over someone you can’t possibly have, for perfectly good reasons.”

“We?” I ask meekly, opening our place’s door. Jungkook’s not home yet, he’s got a late afternoon class that usually drains all his energies, which only means get in the shower before Jungkook does. Ergo, translation sponsored by the creator of the roommate language, thank you very much, the roommate who had to shower multiple times with cold, freezing water, in order to avoid such fucking loathsome situation, should enjoy her roommate’s absence. Especially since he wants all the hot water in the world for himself for the following half hour. Jungkook is caring just like that, yes. I am the luckiest gal in the world.

“Well, it’s not like we can handle you being all gross when talking about this guy’s dimples while sexually frustrated because, and I quote, he’s so fucking attractive.”

“I-I never said I was sexually frustrated, though?”

“Really,” he deadpans, “You did not. So, we didn’t go through a detailed erotic novel based on how you’d call him daddy despite you not wetting yourself at the thought of calling someone your daddy—or how you’d drop on your knees—”

“I think that’s enough, Chim.”

“Yeah,” he groans, “me fucking too.”

I ponder whether asking him what’s bothering him, because there’s clearly something I can’t quite picture troubling one of my best friends. Jimin is altogether the perfect comrade one needs in their life (he’s cool, he gives great advice, he listens, he’s always giving, which applies to a wide range of things, spacing from his shoulder to more practical, capitalistic things you didn’t even know you’d need) and the worst interlocutor one could ever have (he despises talking about his feelings, his thoughts, and never shares unless something huge happens). Jimin’s a solid seven, based on the results of the Kim Social Test. Tae had nodded his head, gravely, then wrote something on the papers he had been holding the whole time he questioned his soulmate.

How I wish I knew how to properly read people like Tae does. Jimin and I once planned to get him tipsy enough to sneak into his chaotic room for plenty of time, so that we’d discover the secret papers – the KST secret papers. Needless to say, we still know shit regarding Kim Taehyung’s enigmas. One day, Chim. One day we’ll discover all of the answers Taehyung hasn’t shared about the infamous twenty-seven steps test.

The moment I take off my shoes, though, something moving in my periphery catches my attention. Something white moving. Proper phrasing, Y/N. Namjoon expects better from you.

Someone… in white… moving?

Ten points to Gryffindor.

Wait.

It’s Jungkook.

My roommate. My shy roommate. Wet. Wearing just a white towel around his waist. Can people actually have a waist this tiny? And since when Jungkook has abs? What the fuck?

“’Min, I’ll call you back.”

“Oh,” Jungkook has seen me, moved in my direction and I shoot my gaze directly on his face. Not an inch below. Nope. I won’t stare at him. (Sure, the guy goes to the gym. The guy has muscles. But abs? Shit.) “When did you come back? I didn’t hear you coming in.”

Jungkook is handsome.

“Seconds ago. Really.”

He looks at me with a lopsided grin, hand rubbing at the nape of his neck. If he notices that my posture is somewhat frozen and my gaze won’t, incidentally, meet nothing but his, he doesn’t say anything, and I’m immensely grateful for that.

It just—struck me in a funny way, I guess. Not everyday you expect your almost naked roommate to greet you like this, coming back home. Nuh-uh. Especially not a roommate you didn’t realise had abs, thank you very much.

“When did you—uhm, when did you come back, though?”

“As soon as I heard my class was cancelled. I’ve been working on those fucking essays ever since, goddamnit. I needed a break, so I hit the shower enjoying your absence very much.” He shoots me a sardonic smile and, for a second, I’m tempted to hit him. But I don’t. He’s fucking naked. His skin is glistening because he’s still wet. He’s… he’s basically a whole adult now, and he still hasn’t learned how to properly use a towel.

Fucking fuck.

He’s wetting the kitchen floor.

Oh my god, get a grip, Y/N.

Eyes up.

“You were right, by the way,” he furrows his eyebrows, adjusting his towel with a hand and opening the fridge with the other, “I had to write them a long time ago. Procrastinating is fucking me up.”

I suppress my next thought as soon as it’s formed and carved into my brain. My heart is burning at how quickly this conversation could take a turn for the worst, so I spur, without thinking, “You’re fucking me up.”

Also known as the very, exact thought that my brain didn’t manage to stifle. Which could mean a lot of things, really! Out of context, yes, it could seem like I meant that in a… sexual way? But in reality—of fucking course not! Have you seen me? Have you seen Jungkook?

Jungkook’s eyebrows raise so much I’m afraid they faded into his hairline. Flush creeps into my face, so I hasten to add: “I’m supposed to take a shower first, you know. I deserve the hot water too. This means you only won this round.”

He grips the fridge door tighter, takes his time licking his lips and—I stop following his movements when he chuckles, his laugh almost lost in the awkward silence I brought myself upon.

“Yeah, war’s still on, shortie.”

I gasp, a loud sound that has him vibrating against the fridge. I’m seconds away from touching his back and get a hold of his attention but I refrain from doing so because—because he’s showing so much skin, smooth skin that would feel like silk under the touch. I can only imagine how my thumbs’ pads would feel, running against his bare body.

Get a grip, Y/N.

“Excuse me? What did you just call me?”

“Mhm?” – he blinks, playing pretend – “What did I say?”

I hastily grab his banana milk from his hands, shoving it away from him and barely above my head.

“Come again, you coward.”

He now faces me, the tip of his tongue wetting his upper lip.

I fucked up, I realize, eyes widening.

I probably have three seconds to surrender before he’ll say or do something that will worsen the situation. The situation being his presence – his mostly naked presence – hurting me and making me flutter and thinking things and…

“You do have a chance of winning the shower game, baby…”

I’m fucked.

“But you lost this battle a long time ago.” his velvet voice whispers as his eyes dart into mine, falling into the darkness of my pupils.

Jungkook grabs the banana milk bottle, his fingers brushing mine and burning me while I can only stare back, mouth agape. He spares a look at his hand making contact with mine, but it’s gone as soon as it begins, because he’s back to staring into my soul and past lives and future ones.

I’m fucked, period.

I gulp when his phone starts ringing and that catches his whole attention.

More so, I feel like I can breathe again.

Jungkook blinks a couple times, his doe eyes darting to where he placed his phone last and, in that moment, I realize that Jimin is right: we have to do something about it.

We need to do something about it as soon as possible.

EXHIBIT D(enial)

Step twelve: what kind of relationship have you established with your person in question? Let yourself find out.

Jimin shakes his purple head from side to side, his thumb stuck in mid air as he stops scrolling down his phone.

“I just don’t understand,” he frowns, smacking his lips, “What am I supposed to tell you? You declined all my plans.”

If I didn’t know him better, I’d say he was whining, the sound loud and deafening, able to soften his features and make him look a lot younger and innocent.

“I know,” it’s my turn to whine and show despair, I now get to crumble under Jimin’s scrutiny. “But I don’t want to date. I don’t want to put myself under all that stress—constant anxiety, fear of not knowing what the other is thinking, undeniable concern because our schedules wouldn’t match… and,” I add, allowing myself to breathe, “I want it to happen casually. I don’t want to force a relationship. The last time I did this it turned out to be a complete failure.”

Jimin sighs, blocking his phone and throwing it away on the couch. Taehyung and Jimin’s flat is suffocating. Hence why we avoid hanging out together at their place—one could say it’s nice, it gives off a cosy vibe and, yeah, in a way I agree. But having to shove Tae’s clothes in order to enter home, cramming into a small place both the kitchen and living room and debating whether the tiny veranda can be considered a new room is too much. (And frankly, concerning. Once, Jimin went outside to fetch underwear. Yeah, underwear.) I’d rather live anywhere but here.

My mind likes to be a bitch, because in a hot second I’m picturing Jungkook doing the most domestic and unfathomable things, like… like, laundry. I see him crouching on his knees, an attentive look offered to his dark clothes only, forehead showing, and tiredness written all over his face. He always smells so good after taking care of his clothes, the detergent’s distinctive smell sticking to his skin for longer than necessary.

“And I don’t want hook-ups. Especially not with people of your choice.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll admit that Tae and I have tried one too many times to match you with… not good fits.”

“Not good fits is a fucking euphemism, Park.”

He snorts, a hand in his hair. “Sorry, sorry. I know. Still, that leaves us…” he pretends to look at a paper in his hands, expression contorted into a delusional one. “Masturbation. Rub one off in the good, old way. Should be fine for a week or two.”

Doctor Park earns a swift prod of my elbow against his thigh, and I’m rewarded with his high-pitched laugh.

“Fucking hell, Y/N, that hurt.”

“This whole conversation hurts, Jimin.” – I sigh, slouching on the couch – “I can’t believe I’m letting you help with this… problem.”

“My dear dramatic friend,” he starts, propping an elbow on a cushion, “you’re just horny. Frustrated. And I don’t know how to help you.”

“That reminds me, you useless purple-haired good-looking friend—”

“…That’s not an insult?”

“…is everything okay with you? I mean – you live with Taehyung, so clearly something is wrong with you, but I mean emotionally? You’ve been a little off these past few days.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” my smile is inevitable, “Oh.”

Did he really think people wouldn’t notice? Me, of all people, wouldn’t realize something is wrong from his behaviour?

“No, just—same old, I guess.”

“My Jimin translator is currently fucked up so I need you to repeat what you just said in an understandable way, Min.”

Scratch that, my Jimin translator has always had problems. If it had ever worked, I wouldn’t find myself here, knees brought up to my chest, struggling to hear Jimin talking about his feelings.

He passes a hand through his locks. “I’m holding up just fine? Studying, working, hooking up unlike you.”

“Don’t make it about me, jerk. What about the person you were with, when we talked on the phone yesterday?”

“What do you mean, the person I was with?”

The look on my face makes him groan, hands now covering his eyes. “What gave it away?”

“Happy post coital Jimin is very different from frustrated but not sexually Jimin, I’ll have you know.”

“I don’t even want to know, what the fuck.”

“But I do,” I plea, tugging at the end of his shirt, “Tell me what’s wrong, Min.”

The whining tone of my voice has to do the trick, I reckon, because he’s throwing his head back and hastily grabs a cushion to hold—or to suffocate himself with, I can’t tell.

“I’m sort of—getting over someone. It’s harder than I thought.”

Oh, Jimin.

I’m dramatic, okay? Jimin knows, Taehyung laughs because of this and Jungkook finds it amusing, too. Everybody knows. So, I developed several different scenarios – a wide range of possible things Jimin would share (finally) with me, but none of them resemble in the slightest the real thing. And it’s somewhat frightening.

“You don’t have to tell me… I didn’t know you even liked someone in the first place. Really, it’s okay. I thought it was something trivial like trying to survive in this place or a fight with Tae, I don’t know.”

This makes him smile. “No, it’s—it wasn’t an unrequited crush, you know? Only, things happened, and we stopped seeing each other. Turns out it’s difficult to get over him.”

A pause, the tip of his tongue wetting his plump lower lip. “Do we know him? Me and Taehyung, I mean?”

“It’s—complicated. But it’s not a big deal, really.”

“How can you say that? Your feelings are at stake and seeing you hurt haunts me.”

He bites the insides of his mouth, eyes glinting with disbelief. “You really are dumb and dramatic, what the fuck. I’ll get over him, don’t worry.”

He throws a cushion at me, while I stare him, eyes wide and mouth agape because of his reaction, calm and composed. As if it’s really not this big of a deal.

“If you really feel sad, though… buy me a drink. Or two. Or three. Until me suffering stops haunting you.”

The audacity of Park Jimin, ladies and gentlemen.

[15.38] you: okay min

[15.38] you: you were right. i’m horny

[15.40] jimin: what else is new bb. What did he do this time

[15.41] you: bold of you to assume he did anything in the first place. But no. he didn’t do anything

[15.41] you: Beside getting a terrible haircut. I hate it. I kinda wanna punch namjoon in the face for this, and not in the kinky way

[15.43] jimin: Is there a kinky way to punch someone? Maybe you meant spitting in his mouth? On his dick? I’ll stop with these bc I don’t want you to get worked up over my texts

[15.43] you: shut up

[15.43] you: anyway one of his friends passed by. Red hair. Mouth hearth shaped. Adonis body. 10/10 would bang or kiss or hold his hand

[15.43] you: 15/10 would prefer the banging. Anyway, I don’t have a crush on namjoon, I’m just in need of a good dicking

[15.46] jimin: I’m screenshotting this and sending it to taetae

[15.46] you: blocked and reported

[15.46] jimin: you’re my dick deprived friend and I love you. Taetae says he’s not up for dicking you good because he’s in love with a girl that is about to blow him, sorry don’t be mad I don’t make the rules

[15.48] you: what the fuck did I just read

[15.48] jimin: just say you love me and you’ll go out with us tonight. Let’s partayyyy. I’ll help you find someone to go down on you, trust me

[15.49] you: what the fuck did I just read, the reprise

[15.51] jimin: no ok ok ok. Seriously. Go out with us. Me, tae and guk. We made plans a couple of days ago. Come with us. If you’re not up for a hook up you can just loosen up a bit and have fun with us. I promise

[15.52] jimin: please

[15.54] you: I’m in

***

One thing Jungkook doesn’t notice about me straight away is the feeling of uneasiness and worry that creeps up my face.

Jungkook’s curious, mostly alcohol-hazed, look scurries away before meeting my eyes: he checks me out (I wish I didn’t have to say this—but one has to come to terms with this admission after being looked at with dark, hooded eyes for a good five minutes), tilts his head in what I assume it’s his flirting expression, comments on the dark, sometimes transparent dress Taehyung bought me online and clicks his tongue in a mocking way, when said Taehyung hits him with a can of cheap beer and a couple of dirty jokes.

I would like to wrap Taehyung like a burrito with a warm, inviting plaid instead of having him dragging us all in a packed bar, for the simple and yet abhorrent (to him, of course) reason that he’s shit at pregaming. To be completely honest, he’s shit at drinking. Can’t hold his liquor if his life depended on it. Jimin blocks his phone and groans loudly, then proceeds in wrapping his arm around Tae’s waist and escorting him outside our apartment, murmuring a regretful “I’m doing this because I need it, you shithead. Don’t make me regret I came with you.”

I chuckle, amused by the two.

It’s only seconds later that my wrist is playfully grabbed by one clearly upset Jungkook. He blinks, twice, before wetting his chapped lips. I shoot him a questioning look that I hope doesn’t feel like I’m in need to get away from him because I’m being weirded out by his behaviour.

“I didn’t know you were coming with us.” he says, even though it sounds like a realization he wrongly pronounced out loud.

“Am I gonna be a problem for you?”

His doe eyes widen at that, but he’s quick to reassure, voice steadier: “Of course not.” He furrows his eyebrows, “I just meant…” A shrug. “I thought you didn’t do this.”

“What? Hanging out with my friends?”

He’s smiling an empty smile how, lips twisting into a crude exhibit of disorientation, like he doesn’t know how to answer that.

“Right.” He nods, stopping holding my wrist. “A friends’ night out.”

He steals a glance at me, short, devoid of emotion, before grabbing his jacket and following Jimin and Tae.

‘Right?’ I’m not—I’m not interrupting a guys’ night. I am not imposing. I can be pedant and dramatic and clingy to Jimin when drunk (remember the Incident with the former roommates of mine? Or better—don’t. I don’t wanna reminisce those moments. Just acknowledge that Drunk Me can turn into a cuddly, clingy friend) but I’m sure as fuck not imposing. God. I’m not.

As I play with the short cuticles on my middle finger, I gnaw at the inside of my mouth.

It’s funny how I am the one wondering ‘Right?; it’s in moments like this that I want nothing but to shove Jungkook against a plain, stone cold surface and ask him to talk to me. This crumbling show resembles so much the Mina Thing that I am feeling uncomfortable even asking. I thought that having a roommate meant gaining a friend; now I say: maybe. It depends. I guess that sharing a house with someone means you’re bound to come into contact with this other person, and there are times when this connection turns into something deeper, like friendship. Still, it’s not the usual friendship path, so you have to be careful and make sacrifices along the way. Right now, the sacrifice I’m making is taming my – how did Jimin call it, once? Mom-friend attitude?

Tone it down, Y/N.

Especially since I know I am not nurturing the boys into spending time with me and showering me with attention.

I sigh.

The question that fails to be answered is only one…

What’s gotten into Jungkook?

***

“Plan for the night,” Taehyung smirks, hands in his now longer hair, “I’m getting wasted.”

“Very mature,” Jimin snorts.

“You’d be too, if the fuck of your life didn’t call you back.”

“Oh my god,” I groan, “It happened a long time ago. I remember I was still wondering whether asking your roommate to wash up was decent human being behaviour or not.”

“Or not.” Tae blinks, hands in his pockets, “You once told me, too. You were rude.”

“You threw up on me!” Jungkook chuckles. “Besides, it was freshmen’s week.”

Jimin nods. “Banging on freshmen’s week doesn’t count.”

“Especially if that’s a grad student sorry excuse to get wasted.”

“She is a hot grad student, thank you very much.” – Taehyung moves into the crowd stalled at the entrance and points towards the bar – “You’re gonna find me right there until the love of my life comes back.”

“She won’t—”

“Don’t ruin it, shortie.”

The audacity. “Have you ever considered that, perhaps, you weren’t the fuck of her life, instead?”

“Way to hound me, woman.”

Jimin shakes his head and pushes his soulmate out of the way. “Grab me a drink while you’re there.”

“Make it three!” my voice follows him, now definitely swallowed by the crowd.

The place is packed. Tae mentioned the location being renewed over the past week, but I hadn’t given him much thought. (I still remember the ruin pub tour in Budapest, for god’s sake. A tip for the future: never let Taehyung plan your holidays. No matter how much promising his ideas look) and I must admit that I like the new touch.

My gazing the surroundings is hastily interrupted by a now awaiting Jeon Jungkook: he looks at me with an arching eyebrow, his lower lip enveloping his upper one.

“What?”

“Again, what do you want?”

Knowing who pissed in your Cheerios?

“I,” I shrug, “What do you mean?”

“Grab her a Long Island, Guk,” Jimin’s voice cuts in between our bodies, “I take whatever Tae’s having.”

Right. The drink. Of course.

Jungkook disappears before stealing a glance at the both of us, a je ne sais quoi of unsaid still clear between us.

“I hate to ask. You know I do.” Jimin’s fingertips brush against the leather of my jacket. “But… is something off? Between you two?”

The soft indie music that welcomed us when we got in slowly turns into a more upbeat, loud mix of sounds and I spot in Min’s eyes the need to go dancing. I instantly remember that this night it’s for him as much as it is for me.

“No, Min.” I shake my head along to my words, a quick smile on my lips. “You don’t have to worry.”

“Better not, shortie.”

Dancing is a harder activity to excel at, especially when you’re not Jimin nor you haven’t got Taehyung’s confidence, somehow perfectly balanced by his carelessness – he doesn’t give a fuck about judgements and stares and what-not, and this freedom only fuels him. I find myself juggling between being either of them or, well, striving to channel either of them into my limbs and inner self.

It’s all about matter of attitude, in the end.

This matter of personality traits you-can’t-quite-inherit-unless-you’re-the-soulmates-themselves corners me in a delightful position: I’m very close to dancing without restraints in the middle of this place, still placing a decent amount of attention on the music itself and the crowd that has managed to swallow me whole in the past half hour.

I’m exhausted.

Don’t get me wrong—it’s insanely freely to disinhibit myself and let go, every once in a while, but I feel as if there are matters yet to be discussed that stop me from giving one hundred percent myself out on the dancefloor, as Jimin called it.

These disturbing matters present themselves right on my side in the form of one very attentive yet not-so-sober Jeon Jungkook, when I shake my head and decide to buy myself another drink.

His bouncy, fluffy hair is sticking in every unfathomable direction when his gaze crosses mine, and I don’t further inquire his state, despite my expression probably giving my thoughts away. He cocks his head, licking his lips.

“What’s up?”

That definitely sounded like a staggered what’s wrong? Where did I fuck up?

I cross my arms and place them on the mahogany counter, shrugging my shoulders.

“This place is starting to stink.”

“Well,” he mulls, a finger in his freshly formed curls. “I hope you weren’t expecting flowers and, fuck, I don’t know? Soap? Ginger ale?”

“Damn, there you go crashing my hopes and dreams.”

“Jeon Jungkook, professional heartbreaker at your service.”

I scrunch my nose. “Be more creative, c’mon.”

“International playboy?”

“I was thinking more of laundry fairy, though? Or black clothes enthusiast?”

He stares at me with an uncanny expression, blinking twice. He then shakes his head, the tip of his tongue poking out, his hands moving with emphasis in a c’mere, I just wanna talk gesture.

“You take it back,” he says, unable to hold back a laugh, “Take it back now.”

“You’re a fucking menace, is what you are.”

Jungkook chuckles while placing his elbow on my shoulders, enhancing his tall person privileges. “It’s still early, you know,” he mutters after a while, waiting for me to order before talking.

“For what?”

“Jimin said he promised to get you a hook-up,” he explains, eyes on the people still dancing in front of us. His voice is softer when he speaks next, and I find myself unable to look away from his profile even though he’s not even glancing in my direction. “It’s still early, you have all the time in the world.”

Oh.

Funnily enough, I had almost given up on the quest. I just assumed Jimin and I were living knowing the second part of our deal was taking place right around us, ergo us just having fun. Brushing aside the stress of the past few days.

Jungkook thinks I’m here to get laid? For fuck’s sake. My face heats up at just the thought.

“I’m not that desperate, Guk.”

“I know this.” He takes a strand of my hair between his calloused fingers. “I’m just saying… there’s nothing stopping you.”

“Stopping me?”

He’s so close his laugh resonates against my side, his little smile not disappearing from his lips.

“Fishing for compliments, huh?”

He chooses the moment I frown not so delicately to turn around and look at me. “Am not.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” he sighs, turning me around and placing an arm around my shoulders. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Oh.

How to survive from getting compliments by the one and only Jeon Jungkook, an autobiography by yours truly.

I can vaguely feel my fingers trembling.

“That doesn’t sound very convincing,” I retort, putting up the bravest smile I could muster up. “Try again.”

He hums, closing dangerously the distance between our bodies. I am flushed. Tingling. Burning. His breath is nudging my ear, his fingers playfully tapping my shoulder.

“Let me rephrase this, then,” a pause, “You could get anyone here.”

I follow his stare into the crowd, a bubbly, commercial song now playing. His deep, soft voice continues, “Literally anyone. From that guy on our left that has been staring at you for the past half hour to the girl on your right with the black straw in her mouth.”

As my eyes catch a glimpse of the people he’s mentioned, a vivid, powerful weight drops in my stomach. I swallow, frowning slightly. I just. I just don’t want them. I don’t want random people. I don’t want casual anymore. I’m throwing myself toward a better goal, a blazing direction, an ardent feeling in the pit of my stomach. Something that resembles a stable relationship. Domesticity. Tenderness. Urgency. Passion. The whole package, I can practically hear Jimin shouting. I want…

My mind must love playing tricks on me, because suddenly I’m surrounded by muffled sounds and I can only think: Jungkook. This one right here. This warm body next to mine. This kind soul.

The bubble bursts as rapidly as it had grown around me in the first place.

This Jungkook with a girlfriend. This taken man. This body that is used to warm up another girl’s sheets.

I fight the instinct to cry.

“Not interested in anyone, sorry.”

Jungkook’s tone is crushed when he speaks next, but I don’t care. I don’t even want to know why. It doesn’t even matter. I don’t want to think about it.

“Right.”

I grab the freezing drink with one hand, the other in my hair.

The cold feeling against my skin sends a shiver down my spine and I can’t help but feel as if that’s the only ending I’m getting. The only road I’m supposed to enter—the average one, the ordinary, already paved, already walked on by thousands before me.

The only time I’m thinking seriously about someone it’s—it’s about a taken one. Well played, Y/N. Good fucking job.

“See you at home?”

It wasn’t supposed to be a question, but who cares, right? I’m leaving Jungkook’s periphery before he can even form a decent answer.

Turns out I can channel one of the soulmates, in the end. It’s Jimin. It’s what the purple haired friend always does when his feelings are at stake. When he puts his defences up and plays around like me and Tae can’t fucking see he’s hurt.

I’m making sure feelings can’t get to me.

***

“Y/N? Hey, what’s wrong?”

Yoongi’s alarmed tone is the only clear sound I can properly hear. I giggle uncontrollably, hand covering my mouth.

“Ooops. Wrong number.”

My back slides against the wall, and I sigh as I sit down on the bathroom floor.

I don’t know what prompted me hiding in here.

I don’t—I didn’t think this through. Properly. I’ve never aced hide and seek, as a kid.

“Don’t worry… are you—are you alright?”

I gulp. “Yep. Yup. Positive, sir.” Now I’m hiccupping like someone who can’t hold his liquor. Someone I’m not. Taehyung in his purest form.

“Y/N,” Yoongi’s voice reverberates in my ear, “Have you been drinking?”

God. Why on earth am I on the phone with him?

“I don’t know, you’re the one who called me.” I said that out loud? Oh, shit. I burst into a fit of giggles, once again. This is so embarrassing. “Are you alone? Is Jungkook with you?”

“No, god. No.”

“Is Jimin with you, then?”

“Dunno. Might be outside the women’s bathroom. Might not.”

Have been here for the past twenty minutes, looking far worse than I sound, of course I don’t know. The freezing tiles melt me and my first instinct – my primal reaction to this unexpected, rude cold is staring at the ceiling. Not batting an eye. Throwing my head back on the wall, hoping the goose bumps will fade in seconds. Hoping the childish, irrational tears won’t wet my cheeks.

I hate this state of raw, sick vulnerability. I hate knowing it doesn’t go away with a snap of fingers, with the silent, hushed promise to myself that I’ll do better next time, I’ll take care of myself in such a good way this will only feel like a bad dream. A short-lived nightmare.

“Can you reach him? Please?”

It’s a sequence of blurs, then – getting on my feet, meeting Jimin’s worried eyes, brushing away Taehyung’s confused, warm hand. Jimin nodding, grabbing his jacket, scanning quickly the room. The buzz dissipates around me, numbing me to the point that I don’t recall going home, in the end. Neither Jimin’s precious care nor the quiet sobs that don’t stop.

Nothing but an unexpected text, bright and deadly, blurred with tears for me and myself only.

[01.26] jungkook: staying at mina’s tonight.

EXHIBIT E

Step fifteen: when in doubt, ask for a rematch. Challenge your opponent. Scoot closer. Drop the formalities. Let that stake be higher.

I’ve been through worse.

I’ve literally shoved my fingers down Jimin’s throat so he could throw up. I’ve studied the wrong assignment more than once. Once, I only ate birthday cakes for a week. Emphasis on cakes.

Harbouring silly, illogical crushes for someone doesn’t even make the top ten list. When you’ve known Taehyung and Jimin for longer than five years, you know it doesn’t even make the top twenty stupid things you regret doing in your life chart.

That’s why it doesn’t matter—okay, Jungkook looks good wearing black. Passing his hand through his messy locks, therefore showing his forehead. Making eye contact when he talks (that has lately turned into a reason why I’ve been blushing more around him, for Christ’s sake).

So what? It happens. It happens when people are cute. And smart. And funny.

“Morning,” Jungkook mumbles, voice drowsy and thick with sleep.

I’m thrown away by his appearance, which can only confirm the fact that he didn’t spend the night here, at home, his bedroom next to mine. He’s slouched on the couch, eyes still closed, his thick eyelashes catching my attention.

I try not to focus on the feeling in my belly, a weight in the pit of my stomach that dropped when I got his text last night and hasn’t disappeared ever since. He’s got a girlfriend and I have no right whatsoever to feel saddened by this crucial statement. Honestly, a part of me feels guilty because it’s nothing I didn’t know before yesterday. Does it make me mad, knowing that his girlfriend has been away from him for so long? That, while he pushed her away because he needed space, feelings for him started spurring in my stomach and mind and every limb of mine? Yes. Yes, ten thousand times yes. But—what can I do about them? I’m so used to dealing with feelings on my own – how many crushes did I suppress because my feelings were unrequited? I lost count – that it shouldn’t even surprise me. Yet here I am, yet here my last shred of hope flees away. I’m delusional. I’d laugh, out loud, dry, not at all sympathetic if only Jungkook wasn’t here.

As I bit the insides of my mouth, I can only hum in response, not gathering the strength to form a proper greeting.

“Tired?”, Jungkook asks as he starts playing with the rings on his fingers. I turn around, facing the kitchen counter and the mug I’ve just grabbed.

Tired doesn’t even begin describing what the fuck I’m feeling.

“Yeah.”

It’s all I can muster up.

“Mhm.”

I can hear a vague shuffling of clothes – he must be standing up, stretching his limbs, suppressing a groan. Only a glance. I spare only a glance at his tired figure that disappears from my periphery.

That’s how Jungkook retreats in his room.

I never hated Saturday mornings as much as I do now.

***

Maybe that was an idiotic hyperbole. Because, my internal voice almost stutters, this is what sucks. This is what I hate: a whole week (a whole ten days) without Jungkook. Scratch that. A whole ten days with Jungkook in it and my usual Jungkook missing from my life altogether.

He scraps his neck, doesn’t meet my eyes, doesn’t stay in the same room as me anymore. Which is understandable. I’m a rational human being, not at all baffled by emotions of any kind, of course, so I get it. An inclination of sorts erupted between us during that night out and it unequivocally brought to surface my limits (read: my feelings) and his desire to stray as further as possible away from me. I get that. I would have flirted with him and said things to him if the girlfriend package didn’t cross my mind. I have feelings and a deep, vivid imagination to support said to-be-neglected feelings and Jungkook must have sensed that. Must have had an epiphany somewhere in between this horrific, awkward week without me.

Makes sense! It’s alright! I can manage without him.

It’s the only right turn of things, after all.

As I hold the key in my hand and open the apartment’s door with a sigh, the stillness of the living room hits me at once. I don’t know whether blaming the shredded, dying light of the day breezing past the sunblinds or the overbearing tidiness of the stuff in the room. Just a glance towards the awfully tidy space, crammed with magazines precisely positioned on the coffee table, the couch, unused for days, taking up too much space, and the TV turned off since the beginning of the week… makes my stomach drop.

I’m suddenly burned out, feeling the weight of a never-ending week of work and innumerable talks with my mind crashing on me and trapping my chest. I let out a drawn out, exhausted breath, feeling for the first time in a long time like a guest just waiting to go back home.

A black mop of hair distracts me from this dying scenery, and I meet for the first time in too many days Jungkook’s big, doe eyes.

“Hi,” he puffs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Hungry?”

He’s standing with his fingers interlaced and a white tee too big for his figure that’s swallowing him fully. I can’t help but steal a glance at his bouncy, almost curly hair that look so, so incredibly soft at the touch.

“No,” I shake my head, voice low, already taking a step forward my room. “I’ve got a huge load of paperwork to do before tomorrow.”

He nods, and my heart breaks just a little because having dinner together was a thing I got used to too fast for my liking. There was something about his jokes and disparate comments on whatever show we were binging. Or about the soft chuckles he let out, the way he relaxed against the couch and, when it became too late, made sure to wake me up with that husky voice of his when I fell asleep on my end of the couch.

Upper lip between my tooth, I decide against standing like a fool in front of him when he made it extremely clear, in the past ten days, that doesn’t really want me around. Which is—hurting me, but I guess there are things I can’t control in life. One of them being his friend, right now.

As I retreat in my room, I feel so terribly stupid, without any doubt crushing once again on the wrong person.

***

Thursday morning finds me padding softly through my room, reaching the kitchen with my eyes half closed and hair purposely sticking in multiple directions to make me look like a mess in front of my roommate, because, of course. Jungkook’s in the kitchen.

It feels like a nightmare. One where I’m supposed to bump into Jungkook in the worst of times, looking desperate while he’s the very definition of boyfriend material. And I’m internally screaming. And dying, of fucking course.

He’s on the phone, humming at his interlocutor while tracing patterns on his thigh, his little dimple on full display.

“Hyung, no—”

He groans, and I can’t help but chuckle softly at the scene, his dark locks in his eyes. “I don’t know if… I mean, I hope we can make it…”

Jungkook turns fully around and faces me, his mouth agape and eyes wide, still able to melt me into a puddle of softness and quick heartbeats. I stare back like a stupid, crushing human being while I flush and he mouths a silent “morning” that steals a smile from me, anyway.

I can practically hear Jimin whispering whipped on repeat in my head and the implication alone makes my heart flutter.

(Maybe so, Park)

He stays like that in front of me, not moving, not even an inch, focusing his morbid eyes into my messy hair and brushing gently the tangles out. I freeze, unable to do something that’s not burning under his caring touch and pretending I’m not about to reveal my deep, inexcusable, unrequited crush to him.

I’m guilty once again—observing for a fraction of a second his lips, soft because of the melon lipbalm he insists on buying and when I look up, his eyes, ablaze, lock on mine and I believe there’s something resembling a flicker in them—a fervent flame shattering its surroundings.

“I’ll call you back, hyung. Yeah, yes, I know.”

As he places his phone down, he rasps, “Yoongi hyung is back. Just… just for a few days, though.” He hesitates, eyes still fixated on my bed head. “He invited me to his friends’ night out. Invited us, I mean. It’s nothing more than him pretending to be annoyed by us and being a good hyung, nonetheless. You know,” he furrows his eyebrows, “He’ll tell us we can’t hold our liquor then will buy us drinks and food. He’s gonna watch us eating like we’ve never had that much food in our lives and smile like an idiot at us bickering. It’s always the same with him. So,” he shrugs, his eyes darting to find mine, a bit insecure, “Are you free tonight?”

I blame the whole boyfriend attire. The softness of his request, the gentleness of his touch, his big eyes, my deep desire to feel a part of his life once again. Just for a night. Like the old times. Like we’d never put these barriers in between us. I want it so bad, even if it’s just for delusional fractions of a single, ordinary day.

“Yeah,” I whisper back, barely nodding, “Yeah, I’m in.”

EXHIBIT F(ucking finally, kid)

“Okay, so, you’re being paid for doing something you love?” Taehyung look absolutely gobsmacked by the idea that in this alternate universe there’s someone being paid for that exactly. “Hyung, it seems fake. Are you sure you’re being paid? Like, have you actually checked your bank account? Counted the money? Got that bread?”

“Oh my god,” Jimin whispers to himself, grabbing Taehyung’s hand and shoving him back. “You can’t ask people that, Tae.”

The soulmates glance at each-other, and Yoongi exhales a soft chuckle. “Yeah, I did. Had to buy Jin-hyung a Yankee candle as a thanks for the airport ride.” He looks at the eldest now, a frown and a pout adorning his face, “That shit costs a fucking fortune, though.”

“Not my fault my nose is delicate. I’m allergic to most things, you should know by now.”

“Most things?” Jungkook asks, confused. “I only knew of pollen?”

“Cheapness, kid. The acrid smell of an Ikea fruity candle. Yoongi’s crappy softener.”

Yoongi quite literally stabs Seokjin with his icy stare. “When did you smell my softener?”

“It’s lavender,” Jimin nods, solemnly. “It’s not bad.”

Before I can ask wait, how the fuck did you know that?, Yoongi shakes his head and comments on something twenty-one years old Seokjin did, once upon a time, that earns him a pout and a high-pitched reply by the eldest. I’d focus on how close the two – Jimin and Yoongi, of course - are, sitting with their shoulders almost brushing and thighs just inches separated, but I decide against it when I notice the way Yoongi smiles – all gums, all eyes turned into crescents – when Jimin throws his head back and laughs openly, clasping his hands together.

Oh, my mind offers, and I bite back a smile.

When Jungkook had told me about this night out, I didn’t imagine this scenario. This well outlined scenario with the bright cameo of Jimin and Taehyung, also known by anyone but me, thank you very much, as Yoongi’s friends. Or, well – acquaintances. At least on Tae and Yoongi’s part.

I fill my glass with water, eyeing the close two – Yoongi and Jimin – with sharp eyes, enjoying the calm aesthetic of this place, promptly suggested by a very euphoric Seokjin. (“It’s my brother’s restaurant,” he had explained, pride in his eyes, “I’m almost offended to hear you didn’t give it a try yet, but I’ll forgive you because you’ve put up with Jungkook for longer than I expected you to.” He smiled a proud, dad smile, all soft and bright, and before I could ask him to explain what he meant – or tilting questioningly my head, Jungkook had complained, loudly, a whine on his easy pout, “I’m hungry. Can we go in?”)

Turns out that we, yes, can go in, but, to Jungkook’s great dismay, we’re waiting for the last two friends to arrive. Jungkook has gone quiet beside me, his rings-filled fingers tapping a melody only he knows on the edge of table. I eye him for a second – a second that turns into two or three, definitely intrusive, because he snaps out of his hazed state and looks back, orbs all inquiring and able to make me burn under his scrutiny.

“I thought you’d be moping by now,” Seokjin begins, pointing his chin at Jungkook, a hand on the back of his neck. “You know, about…”

“His sorry relationship?”

Seokjin sneers at Yoongi’s remark. “More about that… all of that ended.”

“It ended a long time ago, though.” My roommate replies, while it’s my turn to become quiet and process the words I’m hearing. Does this mean what I think it means?

I swallow.

“Hyung,” Guk says, his voice barely louder than a whisper, “You know it had to be done. Wasn’t fair for either of us. Hasn’t been for god knows how long.”

“Wait,” Taehyung snaps, the bestest of friends, “You broke up?”

“No, wait,” Jimin says, a hand covering Taehyung’s, frozen in mid-air, “You were dating?”

Seokjin snorts, then shakes his head and goes for the first alcohol bottle on the table. Mood. Fucking mood. I’d grab that bottle or snatch it from his hands myself if I weren’t completely in a desperate, freaking out mode. My mind’s running towards ends and assumptions I don’t even want to hear, for my own sake, while my heartbeat is too fast paced for a chill, night out with friends. Friends only.

Oh, god. I wish Jungkook wasn’t smart and quick-witted. I’m so hoping he doesn’t connect the dots. I don’t want him to pick up the pieces and end the whole puzzle, so that he sees beyond the longing gazes and words and touches—or lack thereof and… gets it. Gets that my crush is insurmountable. And that it broadens itself like oil, dense and clear and unavoidable.

“Fuck off,” Jungkook smiles, then shakes his head as if to shrug off his shoulders this whole conversation. “You’re both being rude.”

“Hey, I’m not!” Tae replies curtly, “I just wanted to know if I can finally tell you how idiotic our last conversations have been! You know, all those ‘hyung, I need an advice’, ‘what if she—'”

“Shut up.”

“Okay, so what about the hideous ‘I jerked off to—'’

“For fuck’s sake.”

A napkin has been thrown in Tae’s direction.

“Nice touch” I say, because I’m an idiot that only points out the most useless thing out of this whole thing – fucking hell, this gigantic conversation slash vase of Pandora.

“Glad to know Jungkook’s still a brat,” a loud, chirpy voice to our left says. Remember when I said I didn’t picture the scenario like this? Well, scratch that. It turns out I didn’t picture the scenario at all if I’m being graced with Namjoon and Red hair. Mouth hearth shaped. Adonis body. 10/10 would bang or kiss or hold his hand himself. Oh my god.

What fucked up scenario is this?

What drama am I on?

“What the fuck.” That’s Namjoon’s greeting. I would snarl, but that would ruin my shocked expression. “What the fuck.” He repeats, blinking.

My boss, y’all.

What fine elegance. What charming behaviour. What snarky attitude. You wouldn’t believe that he is an editor, writer wannabe with that cool lexicon of his. His gentle manners, his perfect choice of words.

“Y/N? Why are you here?”

“Wait,” 10/10 would bang or kiss or hold his hand says, pointing fingers and retreating them soon after that, adjusting his shirt’s buttons. “Do we know you?”

“Kind of,” I say, offering a hand to him in greeting. “I’m Y/N.”

“Jungkook’s roommate? Wait—” 10/10 pauses, eyes wide, “Namjoon’s terrible intern?”

“I’m not that terrible, c’mon—”

“—you’re Namjoon?” Jimin almost shrieks, while 10/10, in the same, terrified tone asks: “Namjoon’s terrible intern is Jungkook’s roommate?”

As Jungkook casually throws his arm around my shoulders – most specifically, on the edge of my seat, I think, flushed, crushing, that this is the story of how I meet best friends Namjoon and Hoseok, number one Yoonmin stans, lukewarm coffee enthusiasts, great friends of Jungkook.

(He’d whisper to me, half an hour later, voice husky, “I didn’t know my Namjoon was your Namjoon.”

Then, Jimin would squeal, muttering to himself, “That Namjoon?”, ignoring Yoongi’s curious stare.)

***

Jungkook has broken up with his girlfriend.

Which means that he’s, now, single. Girlfriend-less. No girlfriend package. When I think of him, from now on, I’ll only be picturing a single, tall, package. Handsome, clearly. Good. Warm. All smiling and friendly. Caring.

“Have I seen you somewhere else, though?” Hoseok asks, eyebrow furrowed, while Jungkook stops eating and joins him in a collective scrutiny directed to me. This Jungkook is… just him. No relationships involved. No girlfriend. No love interests. No love interest?

It’s seconds later that I realize I didn’t answer Hoseok’s question, so I shrug my shoulders. “Work, maybe?”

My feeble, yet vivid and convincing hope has to die down. Because… Because what gives me the right to think he’ll want to jump off into another relationship? What makes me think he’ll like me? He’ll want a relationship with me?

Taehyung snaps his fingers right in front of Jimin’s face. “Screenshoot guy? 10/10?”

This is insane. I can’t believe I risked thinking I could make a move. Me, a shy coward. I can’t even fathom into thoughts – into words – the desire to laugh out loud at myself that I feel.

Idiotic. Truly idiotic.

“Yeah, Sherlock,” Jimin says, mocking, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, “Took you long enough.”

I send him back a tentative smile, that earns Hoseok’s genuine confused expression. Then I sigh, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, not noticing a pair of eyes following my actions. Not until he scoops closer and props his elbow on the edge of my seat, eyes covered with worry.

“You okay?”

It’s in these moments that I find myself wondering– what if I’m just imagining things? Just projecting? Just putting myself in the worst possible, imaginable scenario?

What if there’s more behind Jungkook’s care?

Right in front of me there are his soft lips, stuck in a pout, and I urge myself to lift up my gaze and meet his comforting eyes. “Yeah,” I nod, “Yeah.”

Jungkook’s hand then meets the back of my neck, brushing against it with a gentleness so sudden it almost makes me tear up. “Okay,” he murmurs, voice a tad louder than a hushed whisper.

The burden of my worries, as well as the unbearable weight of my thoughts, flutter away like a wave with his tiny, barely noticeable gesture and I find myself burning with affection for this soft, quiet boy.

***

“You’re drunk”

“I’m hardly drunk. I’ve sobered up,” sounding almost offended, he raises his hands on either side of his head, as if he was proving his innocence, “Would a drunk guy be able to sing a song of your choice without fucking up? Just say the name, I’ll prove it to you.”

(The chill, quiet night around us reminds me once again that right now it’s only the two of us. We said goodbye to the other guys ten minutes ago, each of us going in a different direction – ours is towards Jungkook’s car – and… I can’t help but recall Jimin’s fingers brushing Yoongi’s slender ones, crooked and willing to wrap around the younger ones. My heart. My poor heart is bursting with hope and fondness.)

Jungkook leans closer, eyes fixated on my face, causing heat to colour my cheeks. He doesn’t seem fazed by my lack of answer. My gaze moves from his exposed collarbones up to his doe eyes, eventually meeting his comforting but never questioning stare. He’s here, quiet, his presence never imposing, yet dominant.

He comes impossibly closer, chest brushing mine, a tentative hand gently caressing my jaw. I suck in a breath. His presence is numbing; the mere tracing patterns on the juncture between my face and neck is—is overwhelming. Too much.

I flush, inevitably, head ducking.

“Eyes on me,” he blinks, voice lower. “I want to…” his voice falters, just as a short circuit takes over my whole brain: his intoxicating closeness, his eyes on my lips… God.

Terribly close, yet so, so—

He doesn’t even see me exhale, nor wet my lips—my mouth meets his before my thoughts start making sense. Jungkook shudders at my lips pressing against his, gasping, mouth parting.

He presses his mouth harder on mine, flushing his body against my own, his slender fingers at the nape of my neck.

God.

I pull him closer, so tight I let out a whine that allows him to explore my mouth, tongue demanding, hands clutching at either side of my neck.

Moaning drives him mad, makes the kiss hungrier and more urgent and I’m suddenly gasping for air, tugging at the end of his hair, pulling him to me.

This riles him up—one hand strokes my cheek, gently, as opposed to the licking of his tongue, definitely different from the digging of his fingers at the small of my back.

He draws out his name from my mouth so gently that, for a moment, I think I didn’t speak at all.

“I want you,” he mutters, eyes shut and mouth indefinitely close to mine. “Want you so bad”

“Car,” he kisses me again, “your car, Guk.”

The next actions are a blurred mess (his hand finding mine, our fingers intertwined, my body pushed between the door of his car and Jungkook’s toned torso) but also have me collapsing against Jungkook, his heat pressed against mine.

God.

“Fuck,” he takes a breath, “you’re gorgeous.”

His hands tentatively roam on my hips, descend onto my thighs, grip them, all of this while I lose myself again in his kisses.

“Shit, baby”

Jungkook’s patience runs out when he feels my pebbled nipples against his chest, because he tugs at the end of my thin sweater, then kisses me harder, and I feel him everywhere, when he grips my ass, when he grinds himself against my center, drawing a long moan out of me.

Jungkook is intoxicating.

He draws my breath right out of my lungs, fingers teasing, grinding once again against me.

“Jungkook, fuck”

I whimper, he chuckles. The glorious, idiotic kisser trails pecks all over my neck, sucking on a sweet spot beside my ear.

“Guk, please…”

I don’t know what I’m whining for, but it’s enough for him to smile and close the distance between our mouths once again, savouring me slowly, in a wet, calculated kiss.

Just as my pulsating heat meets his in another tentative grind, Jungkook’s phone brightens the calm darkness of the car.

Oh.

He takes it out, swearing.

I wish I was groaning for other reasons. Sweet, good reasons. Like Jungkook pushing my legs apart, settling between them, lowering to—

“What the fuck do you want, Tae?”

As I listen to my best friend’s voice through the phone, I push myself off Jungkook’s warm body, sliding onto the passenger’s seat, legs crossed.

God.

He looks at me with a questioning look, eyebrows furrowed, and face flushed. His lips are wet from the ministration of my hungry kisses and I instinctively bite mine.

Don’t think about Jungkook’s eating you out, don’t think about Jungkook’s eating you—

“No, we were–we were going home. Yeah, that can do. Don’t worry, give us a minute”

He sighs loudly when the call ends, throwing his head back.

The sight’s almost comical.

“I swear, I didn’t mean to answer. It’s just–the phone was vibrating against my dick and you, too, were very close to my dick and I- “

I interrupt him with a kiss. He melts into it instantly.

“One more,” he hums, “before turning up the engine? Please?”

I erupt into a quiet laugh, obliging.

(What am I gonna do, say no?)

“In case it wasn’t clear,” he rasps, eyes on the road to pick Tae up as he has probably now realised he’d been left all alone without a ride back, “I like you. Have been since managed to eat half a cake in a sitting. Or since you fell asleep on me while watching Princess Mononoke. Which, incidentally, I don’t condone.”

I hold in my breath. “Yeah?”

He waits, then offers his palm to me, “Yeah.”

I intertwine our fingers.

It’s all quiet. It’s all silent. Yet, all warm. A graceful wordless full minute that warms my heart and makes me think this is not real. This is not possible. I think, my mind says, hazed, replaying Jungkook’s kiss once or twice or thrice, this is not really happening.

Oh god. I point with my chin at the next stop. “Pull out for a minute. Just a minute.”

“Something’s wrong?”

When he does, I feel my body aching for him, alive, burning. I can’t believe this. I brush my lips against his, all swollen and tasting, despite everything, still like melon. “In case it wasn’t clear,” I say, softly, “I like you.”

“Yeah?”

I pull back. His nose is touching mine, our foreheads brushing. Jungkook chases me, cupping my cheek with his hand, tracing circles, and letting his tongue delve into my mouth.

“We gotta pick Tae up.”

“Right,” he says, not moving an inch, “Right.”

“I’m gonna trade picking up my best friend for a kiss. Or two.”

“Cockblocker,” Jungkook replies, nodding, “But deal. Wait, no. A kiss. Or two. Hundreds, of course. Along with making out in the car.”

“I’m always free to try your car with you, if I know what you mean, right?”

Jungkook groans. “Let me live.”

“Of course.” A kiss. “My best friend’s waiting.”

“You asked me to pull out.”

“You kissed me back.”

“Of fucking course, do I look dumb to you?”

((“I’m moving out”

These are the first words Jungkook hears on a fatal Thursday morning, hands holding onto the kitchen counter.

A mixed feeling paints his expression.

“I know we haven’t talked about this, but I think we both know that it’s the right thing to do,” I add, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, “I can’t stay here anymore.”

“Absolutely,” then he nods, slowly, “I’m moving out.”

“Thank god,” he murmurs, hands already cupping my face, “For all the sex we’ll be having.”

“Jungkook!”

“Think about the bed,” he says, smiling like the attractive idiot he is, “The couch. Because you’re getting a couch. Think about all the places Taehyung can’t reach. Baby.”

“Jerk,” I say, kissing him lightly on the mouth.

“I’m celebrating for you, you ungrateful, amazing ass. Think about how easy blowing me will be.”

“Oh my god.”

“Think about how easy it’ll be for me to eat you out.”

I throw my hands around his neck.

“Not complaining anymore, huh?”

“Ass.”

“You love me.”

“That I do, baby.”

That I do.))

#jungkook #bts #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts fanficiton #bts fake texts #bts jungkook #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts imagine #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts scenario

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rosesanthology · 5 years ago

Text

Escape Plan | Matsukawa Issei x F!Reader [mafia!AU]

This took me SO MUCH TIME to write aaaaaah it's not surprising that it's so long :0 i just have many many feelings for Matsukawa Issei ALSO im begging y'all to listen to the playlist before/as you read please !!

Im kinda pissed that i cant add a "read more" option since im on mobile tho :\

(Also ngl at first i planned to get one of the 2 shot but i didn't have the heart to go thru with it)

Warnings : Fluff, it starts with humor but at some point it gets angsty ???? Idk y'all tell me

- Au that could be considered as a ennemies-to-lovers type of situation

[Tags] : @raevaioli and @haikoo like i cannot stress this enough @haikoo this your main manz

- if you could only use one sentence to describe your job to a Karen it would be : stealing from the rich in order to trick other rich people

- you had been what the people would call a spy for most of your life now, the Tokyo based Nekoma Organisation being something close to a family

- you worked with both of your very good friends, Kuroo Testurou and Kozume Kenma

- Kuroo, the leader of your little squad, had been the first one to open up to you when you joined

- he was a gifted chemistry genius and you were sure he could make any poison or soporific out of the most random stuff

- he also had insane combat and physical abilities which made him fit to act in a lab as well as on mission grounds

- Kenma was a little more reserved at first, he was the same age as you but still was really reluctant to accept you as one of his own at first

- when he saw how much Kuroo trusted you and how interested you were in his work he slowly but surely found himself caring for you

- to put it simply Kenma, better known as "apple pi" was a hacker. His job ranged from creating computer viruses to full on enabling the security of whole museums

- despite his cute appearance and shy demeanor he was probably the scariest of you three

- finally, you Y/L L/N was the infiltration and weapons expert of the group, you could weild literally anything from guns, to swords to,,,,,metal rods (but you don't wanna talk about this one) and you were of great help when deciding which infiltration angle was the best in missions

- Kuroo, under the orders of Boss Nekomata, quickly taught you the dangers and ways of the job during your first months working with them, the organisation specializing in outsmarting rich bastards and stealing their precious ressources in order to make "better use of them"

- if they were hoarding a particularly efficient brand of medicine, your goal was to steal it all, and sell it to people in need for free or a low price

- if they were in possession of some important object like let's say,,,,,the construction plans for the emperor's new vacation house, you stole it, made copies to sell at a high price to the highest bidder and your good affiliate, the Fukurodani Corporation would keep an eye on the original as part of their personnal collection, you were fine with that

- yeah they were others organisations like that in Tokyo, your friends from the Fukurodani Corp of course but also the Shiratorizawa elite crime group with who you had worked a couple times before

- ah and there was the Yakuzas too....honestly they were the only group in Tokyo with whom you were still on dangerous terms with

- they didn't like Nekoma in their affairs and you didn't like them in yours, but you tolerated each other

- your boss had established a truce with the representant of the big Yakuza group of your area, Kondo "the viper" Takara, a truly scary woman who had blasted her way to the one of the top positions of the hierarchy

- she even had a cool nickname ヾ(｀ε´)ノ

- but you knew better than to mess with them

- all in all y'all kept doing your jobs well, not bothering anybody

- except for one remaining rivalry with some Miyagi group

- the Aoba Johsai Institution.

- well, rivalry would be a strong word because you kinda got along with that Iwaizumi guy, he was a great hand to hand combat fighter and you respected that

- the others however ? Trash. 👁3👁

- they seem to act like Tokyo will be their territory in the next 5 seconds flat like ??

- THEY DON'T EVEN GO THERE ????

- "they be acting like they can just swoop in and eat OUR rich" you had told Kuroo and Kenma one day over ramen

- spoiler alert : it was a bad idea cause Kuroo snorted and almost made the noodles go up his nose

- no but seriously they always seemed to take advantage of YOUR missions to attract attention

- how did they even know which missions you were on anyway ??? (Kenma and Kunimi are actually good friends cause they play video games together but he'd never tell you that)

- it's like that one time you infiltrated a business company's heir's residence and then you came across a dude named Hanamaki and you had the HARDEST time whisper shouting to him how blowing up the whole place was a bad idea to retrieve one (1) diamond

- at the end you felt so tired that you gave it to him anyway ಥ_ಥ ("just take it ffs" "really ??" "Don't make me regret this")

- they also had the single worst person ever on one of their teams.

- Matsukawa Issei

- just thinking about it made you want to take your metal bat and break something in your shared room with your two other friends

- seriously that guy was like the epitome of clownery

- he's also supposed to be his team's gun expert except that's not the best task for someone who refuses to take anything with him but his freaking FISTS

- the first time you had met y'all ended up being on the same case to assassinate some guy who had kidnapped some cute freckled kid from a place in Miyagi called Karasuno

- EXCEPT HE WAS IN TOKYO SO IT WAS YOUR DUTY !!! NOT HIS !!!!

- you had Kenma on the earbud telling you about the guy's position in the club you were currently one street away from. You were posted on the rooftop of a building with a sniper rifle ready to get done with it and go save the kid but GUESS WHO COMES IN FISTS SWINGING WHEN YOU LITERALLY HAD THE TARGET IN SIGHT

- and he had the nerve to look straight toward your rifle's aim and flip you off while smirking

- sir you're about to catch these hands🚶🏽

- he had knocked him out alright and he got the young boy out but you were NOT ready to let that slide so you quickly got down and crossed path with him at the back exit of the club

- "what exactly do you think you were doing in there ?" Listen. You may have sounded confident enough saying that but you had NO idea that this dude was like a whole ass giraffe

- and he knew he was tall so he had the audacity to say

- "sorry can't hear you so well from down there midget, i was just doing my job (▰˘◡˘▰)" if it weren't for the karasuno boy being right there you would have stabbed his kneecaps on sight

- anyway after that y'all just seemed to run into each other wayyyy too often

- insults were shared just as often tho

- "well butter my buns and call me betty broker if it isn't my sweet little midget shooting people !"

- "stfu before i choke you"

- "kinky but can you reach my neck ?"

- "you've sunk low enough"

-so yeah f u n t i m e s

- aside from that, business was going great but Kuroo had had news of a very important mission for you but he insisted on letting Boss Nekomata tell you about it himself for some reason

- he'd never done that :(

- you were kinda hurt that your best friend was hiding stuff from you tbh :(

- and Kenma did not seem to know more than you for now

- so you spent a whole week just mopping around

- sometimes you would go and poke fun and the newbie Lev Haiba but it wasn't the same

- Kuroo and Kenma kept working on missions while you were left waiting for that one assignment that Nekomata seemed to keep you for

- until today when Kuroo finally told you that the boss was requesting you in his office

- ngl you were EXCITED

- maybe you would have to zipline down the Tokyo tower (σ≧▽≦)σ maybe he was going to let you take a chainsaw with you this time (σ≧▽≦)σ

- maybe he- "oh" you deadpanned, stepping foot into the office and seeing none other than your arch nemesis, Matsukawa Issei in all his pisces clown glory

- "why tf are you there shitty eyebrows"

- "i had a good day too Y/N ! thanks for asking :D" today was the day. You were 100% ready to kill him and the knife that was attached to your thigh strap seemed like such a good option rn-

- "stop it you two. Y/N take a sit" Nekomata gestured, as you didn't hesitate to listen to your superior even fully aware of Mattsun's eyes annoyingly following your every movement

-"Okay so. Y/N i know you may be wondering why Matsukawa's here but to put it simply we've been informed that a rich family have gotten their hands on one of Aoba Johsai's rarest item : a gold engraved katana that belonged to their first boss"

- "so what do you need us for ?" You didn't mean to use "us" but you knew better than to piss off your boss, he was like a parental figure come on

- "i need you guys to infiltrate an auction held by said family and steal it back in the span of one week. It's up to you to work together or not but keep in mind that our arrangement states that we're autorised to make copies of the katana for future sells."

- you guys nodded, after all you were professionnals before everything and you were about to leave when Nekomata put something on the table

- "here are the keys to your appartment near the auction site it'll be your hideout !"

-.....now this had to be a cruel joke-

- "id rather sleep under a bridge then live with her for a whole week"

- "wow this is the first time we agree on something Mattsun" the oh so familiar nickname dripped in venom as you said it, unsure of what was supposed to happen

- "oh yes you could but i suppose that you don't have the supplies and tools that you will definitely need during that mission :)"

- you locked eyes with the brunette for a minute before reluctantly stomping to the table and grabbing hold of the keys and adress written on a paper, storming out of the door, letting out a loose "come on shitty eyebrows we have data to collect" to your new....partner ? Ugh it was about to be a long week

- it turns out the appartment was a lot smaller than you hoped for, with two single person beds, a computer post and different storing purposed furniture

- it was a common thing however, because the last thing an undercover spy would want is to draw attention with a flashy hideout

- the first step was to gather information on who would be at the auction which shouldnt be too hard

- "hey ill take the lead and contact my friend so that he can determine who is going to be here" you said as you sat on the chair in front of the computer

- "mm yeah you do that ill check what kind of weapons have been provided to us" Mattsun had no difficulty finding them as the drawers well full of them....this was very promising

- Kenma had just sent you the list of people that had been invited to the event, and you recognised many names as being members of the powerful Yakuza group lead by Konda Takara, of course.....the infamous viper herself

- you called out to Mattsun to show him and briefly explained what they were up too and how they usually fonctionned

- the auction was to take place the last 3 days after an opening party, leaving the rest of the week for preparations

- they usually took their time in comitting their crimes so you thought that stopping them mid plan by taking advantage of it was the best way to get the sword

- Mattsun didn't have anything to say for the moment, seemingly thoughtful about the whole situation

- "just so you know" you started, already regretting the decision of talking in your head, "i don't plan on being friends with you anytime soon but i feel like for this we should at least try not to rip each other's hair out"

- "i never planned on that second option"

- "huh ?"

- "i hope you know that we've never had a single conversation without insults of some kind before so for the sake of both of us it would be better to actually get to know each other since we're supposed to work together"

- you hated to admit it

- but he was right

- however you didn't comment on it, opting for throwing him a dry "let's sleep" before plopping yourself on your own bed on the other side of the room

- this is about to be one hell of a week

-3 days had passed in the crammed appartement both you and Mattsun struggling to inform yourself on each specific individual that was going to be present at the auction

- right now, you were both sitting on the floor, wearing simple oversized shirts and pyjama pants and shorts, cheese pizza box laying on top of the document covered surface

- "Mattsun, pass me the paper about Okuda Takeda please" :000

- Matsukawa froze, because he knew that in 2 days of living together y'all had establised that you wouldn't be at each other's throats

- but hearing you using his nickname unironically and saying please ???? That was still something he had to get used to

- "what are you staring at ? Give me the paper shitty eyebrows >:[" ah there she was

- "thats my girl" he thought, handing you the document and resuming his own reading

- here's the catch : Mattsun was head over heels in love with you since like day 1 that Hanamaki told him about this pretty girl who let him take the diamond from his mission. He tried to repress his feelings as he had noticed that you seemed way closer with your friend Kuroo who he had seen on missions with you

- maybe you liked him

- he would understand, he seemed way more confident than him and he was also probably way smarter since he was a genius and all

- also the way you were always soft to him and not Matsukawa kinda got to him

- he wanted you to hug HIM after a mission too and NOT insult him

- but he judged it for the better as he still got to be close to you in his own way with the playful fights you always seemed to pick with him

- it was easier than confronting his feelings or rejection

- this mission proved to make things so much harder for him tho

- like yeah he saw you being a badass plenty of other times but now ?

- he got to see you being all clingy and grumpy in the morning (he never knew being called a dumbass while you were falling back asleep on his shoulder was his thing but hey) , got to see your nose scrunch up when you were focusing on mapping out the position of the vent system of the venue

- he could go on for hours about how much he loved you and your plan was not making it easy.....profiting off the yakuzas' plan took way too much waiting and he understood that you wanted it to go as well as possible but he just couldn't keep living like this until then

- it felt like torture

- and he did not want to see you in that gorgeous dress that you were supposed to wear at the auction during the infiltration

- he knew that a couple more days could drive him crazy and make him do dumb shit like kissing you

- he had thought about that a lot of times but never brought himself to do it because je knew it was pointless

- he had to take action now

- the night of the opening ceremony, the day before the Yakuzas would start their scheme

- both of you were laying in your beds, awake, that was a habit you had developped over the past nights, you were just, aware of each other's presence and then sometime you would ask him something about his life, his friends, himself

- it made his heart beat too fast everytime and he could feel himself falling even more by the second when he heard you giggling talking about the time you pulled a prank on your friend Yaku with Kuroo

- he knew that you were already very sleepy from the way you were slurring your words

- "Y/N do you hate me ?" He said, abruptly and he heard a strangled laugh coming from you followed up by the question

- "what's that for dummy ?"

- "please answer" he asked in a whisper, sounding almost desperate

- you took a second to think about it

-you had grown quite close to your tall partner in such a short period of time, even letting your guard down and stopping from being so defensive

- "i don't hate you....i could never" you said the last part more to yourself tho but Matsukawa didn't miss it, he wished he did as he heard the soft sighs coming from your now sleeping form

- his heart ached as he got up, putting on his black coat over his mathing turtleneck shirt, taking his gun and spare map of the auction venue

- you were totally going to hate him now....

- and then he left for the opening party

- the rain was pouring outside

- for some reason you couldn't sleep well that night

- that only happened whenever Kuroo was out on a mission at night or Kenma was working in his office

- you hated sleeping alone, you couldn't do it

- being alone was the one thing you dreaded the most in your life, death was nothing if nobody knew where you were, if nobody aknowledged your existence you weren't alive

- but Mattsun was there and you trusted him.

- yeah you were kind of an ass to him during like 90% of your interactions with him but you just didn't know how to talk to him ??? He was so strong and good at what he did so you couldn't help but feel admiration but also intimidation

- yet you've felt probably more comfortable with him than anyone in your life (yes even Kuroo and Kenma weirdly enough)

- it was a nice feeling

- maybe it was because you saw him differently than them...

- but anyway

- you felt like yourself around him

- and yet

- why couldn't you sleep ?

- "Mattsun ?" You called out to him, voice cracked from not having used it for a while

- no answer

- maybe he didn't hear you over the rain....?

- you had a bad feeling about this

- "Mattsun ?" You called out a little louder, sitting up

- yep definitely

- you turned on the light and to your surprise, Matsukawa was nowhere in sight

- your heart sunk at the realization

- you were alone

- what about the plan ? Ah its true that he never said anything about it

- did he not trust you enough with it ? Did he think you were too assertive ?

- you wanted to cry but it seemed as if your brain wasn't working, your body rushing on its own to check the date and time on your phone : past 10pm on thursday night.....

- the opening party !

- "shit shit shit he must have gone there to take them by surprise wtf is he thinking doing this alone?" You thought aloud, maybe it would trick your body into not being scared

- at this point you were terrified, rushing to get the red dress on as well as putting your 2 guns under each of your thigh straps

- is he alone ? Surrounded by highly trained and dangerous Yakuzas ? What if....you were too late ?

- you didn't have time to think too much about it as you knew that this kind of thoughts led nowhere.

- you had to infiltrate that party the fastest you've ever done in your life and see for yourself, luckily, the venue was only a few crossroads away from your appartment

- truth was Mattsun's plan was not so bad

- after all you had insisted on making him find info on every staff member there too so it's thanks to you if he just so happened to know what type of guy that one waitress liked in order to flirt with her and convince her that he had forgotten his watch in one of the closed off aeras of the venue

- the place was absolutly gigantic, after all it was a mansion bought will illegal money

- he hated this, he just wanted to get it over with, retrieve the sword, gtfo and go back to Miyagi forever so that he wouldn't feel the pain of the illusion of being by your side when you were clearly far ahead of him

- you'd always been anyway

- he had finally reached the generator room and opened the vents with much difficulty as the room was a mess of cardboard boxes and storage shelves

- he was just going to cut the power, which would take about 15 minutes to get back, allowing him to go thru the vents to the main hall that was right thru the wall to his side, retrieve the sword and just make a run for it

- hopefully the rain would cover most of the sound he made so that was even better

- see that would have been great if he hadn't felt the icy cold metal of a gun at the nape of his neck as he was fiddling with the generator

- he had been caught.

- it was the end.

- shit he fucked the whole mission over and now even you didn't have a chance to-

- "what exactly do you think you're doing Mattsun ?" You said coldly even tho the hurt in your tone didnt go unnoticed by the taller man

- "haha Y/N whatchu doing here on this fine night ? You look stunning btw"

- "Cut the crap shitty eyebrows i asked you a question"

- you finally lowered your gun allowing your harsh glare to show how upset you truly were

- damn, Matsukawa really felt shitty :\

- he'd never seen you like that- well not soaked from the rain but....so vulnerable to him

- all your feelings talks happened in the dark of night in your hideout, he'd never seen your face look so pained before

- "I did what was best for both us..."

- "bullshit." He wasn't sure that he believed himself either to be honest

- "what the fuck are you even doing anyway ? I thought you and i were in this mission together ?? Did nothing matter to you ? I finally think that i found someone who i could trust other than my fucking family and that's what you do ? Ditch me for your own profit ?? You did what was best for your damn self Matsukawa"

- you were upset. He got it really, his insecurities had gotten the best of him like they often did....except he didn't have the strength to confront them, to confront you about it. So he got it and he didn't retaliate.

- "so what ?? You're not even going to say anything ?? Not even TRY to fucking apologize ? Do you really don't care ?" You searched for his eyes, but little did you know that he just....couldn't talk nor maintain eye contact with you right now

- "Mattsun...i thought you and i had...something ? I don't know maybe i hallucinated or some shit but i thought we were at least friends you know ? D-did you ever tolerate me at all ?"

- your voice cracked, it got lower and it cracked, and at that moment he was sure his heart broke right at this instant too

- he wanted to tell you that that was the farthest thing from the truth

- he wanted to tell you that he loved you

- but you were too far. Once again, you were miles ahead of him, more than ever

- and the sound of voices coming from the corridor did NOT HELP

- you could not afford being found here so with the professionalism left in you, you pushed your feelings away and pulled Mattsun behind a shelf, crouching and waiting

- you were so close he could feel you shivering from the cold and he felt so so bad

- but now was not really the moment

- "didn't you hear shouting ?" Shit. Maybe you should have waited until getting out of here for your heart to heart because this guard was definitely not trippin

- there were 2, luckily they didn't have the idea to split up to search the room, all you had to do was move low and close to the walls in order reach the door and well....the katana literally could not matter less to any of y'all rn

- at this moment you really regretted going out in such a hurry completly forgetting to contact Kenma, he could have hacked into the camera system and told you were they were so easily.....

- anyway, despite that you guys were stealthy enough to get out if the room

- now the problem was getting out of here.....

- you held Mattsun's wrist loosely as you ran thru the corridor of the building, thunder raging and labored breathing filling the silence

- "Y/N we could get out from the rooftop !" Right....if you could only get there then maybe you could just parcour your way out of this by getting on other rooftops....damn you were glad Matsukawa always thought of every escape plan possible

- you didn't really mean what you said earlier

- yes, you were disappointed but, you were also scared for his dumbass

- and rn may not be the best moment to realize it as you were most likely in a life of death situation but....you loved him

- fuck you loved him so much that you were running in a goddamn dress right now

- "i truly hoped it wasn't you" said a voice from the end of the lobby

- of course it just had to be the Yakuza boss you dreaded so much

- Kondo was just standing there, arms crossed but you knew better than to take her lightly

- "did you come to retrieve it ?" Its funny how her voice seemed to dominate even the full on storm outside, the occasional lightning bolt shining light from the huge windows into the corridor

- "No....let us pass please we just want to leave" Mattsun felt how tensed you were and immediatly rested his hand on his gun handle under his coat

- "yeah sure sweetheart but only if you tell your guard dog to calm down unless he wants me to cut his fingers clean off" she threatened nonchalantly as her hand met the handle of her own katana strapped to her belt

- Matsukawa was deadass glaring at her so hard you didn't recognise him

- he honestly looked like he could take her on but...you didn't feel like testing this theory tonight

- "hey hey, it's alright" you soothed him, putting your hand on his arm and squeezing slightly

- it seemed to work because he quickly let go of his gun even tho he was still glaring

- "let us go" he said firmly

- she pushed herself out of the way and motionned with her arm as if to say "go on~" in the most theatrical way

- you passed her without issues and soon found yourself on the roofs as planned in Mattsun's escape route and made it safely to the streets, rain still pouring

- you were finally letting out a breathe you didn't know you were holding all this time

- you were alive and most importantly, so was he

- you turned around and were ready to say something when he cut you off by grabbing your arms and pulling you into a kiss

- it was short but it managed to get his point across very well as well as warm you up when he wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his forehead against yours

- "i love you Y/N....i swear i didn't mean to hurt you and put you in danger like that....if i knew i would have done things differently i-"

- "i love you too Mattsun and it's never been a problem to me, i've done way more dangerous things in my life than rescue my boyfriend from getting killed dummy"

- in the end, you weren't alone

- somehow he had become, your escape plan from it

#haikyuu x reader #matsukawa x reader #mattsun #mayhaps i cried #haikyuu au #haikyuu!!#hq x reader #hq!! headcanons #hq!! fic #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu matsukawa #aoba johsai #aoba jōsai #alternate universe #spy!au #mafia!au

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phantasticworks · 5 years ago

Text

If You Don’t Love Me, Pretend - Chapter Eight

Hi everyone!! Thank you so much for all the love and support on these last few chapters, it means the world! I hope you all are staying safe and I hope this story gives you just a little bit of entertainment during these scary times!

read on ao3

Words: 10k

Summary: Dan and Phil begin to encounter some unforeseen issues with their foster situation.

Warnings for this chapter: swearing, some angst

Something Dan hadn’t originally anticipated about fostering children during the summer months was the fact that he’d be responsible for them for every hour of every day. Without school to keep them occupied for at least a few hours of the day, Dan was left to be on standby. It wasn’t like he minded or anything; this is what he’d wanted, after all. Some days were just rough, is all, especially considering he still had to work a few days every week.

Working in education did have its perks, and in some ways summer break was a perfect example of one of those perks. However, he didn’t get the full break off like students. He, and the rest of the staff, still had to come in and work through logistical things and tidy up the school and prepare for the upcoming school year. Dan had prepared pretty well for the most part and had managed to get the majority of the work for the upcoming school year out of the way before the twins even moved in. Still, he did have to pop in a few days a week and help Louise with some things, and that’s where a few of the issues came up.

Dan really didn’t mind taking the kids with him on the days he went to work, and they assured him they didn’t mind playing quietly in his office or sometimes going into the teacher’s lounge with Louise’s daughter Darcy and playing games. But, some days he did wish that Phil had a more flexible schedule so that he wasn’t left with the kids on his own for such long lengths of time.

And eventually, when summer melted into autumn and he found himself spending more days at the school, he realized he was feeling like he was running on empty. Every day just bled into the other, and it felt like an endless routine of wake up, get the kids ready, take the kids to work, entertain the kids while working, and then take the kids home for their evening routine. As much as he was loving the decision he made, he felt a little like he might explode with all the stress of being their sole guardian most of the time.

His issue with this reached its breaking point on a Thursday.

He had gotten up early and trudged through making a quick breakfast for himself and the twins before going to wake them up, making sure they were quiet enough not to wake Phil, who didn’t have to be up for work for another two hours. Dan, wonderful housemate he figured he was, left Phil a coffee cup out with the kettle still on. In his flurry to get the kids ready and make sure that everything was set out for Phil, however, Dan completely forgot to make himself any coffee, a fact which he didn’t even realize until he’d already gotten to the school with the twins. They were trying their best to be quiet and play in the corner, but he caught himself asking them to be quiet more than once, more annoyed with himself every time for how horrible he acted without caffeine this early in the day.

Not only that, but the school WiFi glitched at some point, erasing all the progress Dan had made on the file he’d been working on. He’d come ridiculously close to swearing very loudly, and only just caught himself when he noticed the twins watching. Rather than risk them seeing his slight meltdown, he gave them some money and sent them to the teacher’s lounge to fetch some snacks.

As soon as they were out of his office, he reached for his phone and dialed the only number he even considered as someone who he could shamelessly rant to.

“Hey, love,” Phil says when he answers the phone. Dan can hear muted voices in the background, and he can tell that Phil is likely in a room with his coworkers.

“I’m about to fucking die,” Dan announces in lieu of a hello. He lays his head down on his desk, balancing his phone on his ear that way.

There’s only a brief pause before Phil responds, his voice a little hesitant. “What’s happened? Are the kids okay?”

Bless him for thinking of the children first. It makes Dan’s heart do a weird flippy thing, but then he’s back to being annoyed about his shit day. “They’re fine. Bored out of their goddamn minds, I’m sure, but they’re okay. My day is just sucking.”

“Are they in there with you? You need to watch your language around them, Dan.” The reprimand isn’t harsh or said with any anger, but immediately, Dan feels a prickle of annoyance under his skin.

“No, they’re not in here with me right now. And I do watch my fucking language around them, thank you very much,” he snaps, sitting up and glaring down at his desk as if it’s personally offended him.

After a brief flash of silence, Phil sighs deeply. “You’re being really rude to me right now,” he informs Dan, trying to keep his voice level.

Dan is a little surprised that he’s so bluntly addressed it, but some sick part of him is thrilled that he’s being given a legitimate reason to be mad now. Arguing with Phil is definitely an excuse to be mad. “I’m not ‘being rude’,” at this point, Dan puts Phil on speaker just so that he can make air quotes at him, “I’m just having a bad day, and I thought I could call and talk to you about it, considering you’re not the one parenting right now.” His words are scathing, but he doesn’t even stop to consider that Phil will likely take them to heart.

Phil’s quiet for a moment, and Dan can just imagine him sitting there, closing his eyes and trying his hardest not to get visibly upset since his coworkers are around. Even in his fit of annoyance, the image almost makes Dan smile. “Seriously?” His voice sounds full of disbelief.

“Yes seriously. I’ve been basically full-time parenting and you’re only ever around in the evenings.” He knows he should keep his mouth shut. He knows Phil is at work and so is he. But he still says it because he also knows that that’s exactly what’s on his mind and he feels like he needs to say it at some point.

Phil makes a huffing sound before speaking. “Look, I’m not arguing with you right now. We’re both at work. If you want to rant about your bad day you can but I’m not going to fight with you. We can have that conversation at home, Dan.”

Dan wants to push him just because he’s feeling contrary, but he knows that Phil is right and they need to postpone it until later. He’s just not ready to verbally admit it, and his hands are shaking for some reason, behaving strangely, and then they- hang up the phone. Of their own accord. Shit.

Dan hadn’t even realized that the door was open, the twins standing there staring at him curiously. He swallows hard, trying to swallow the anxiety crawling up his throat and making it hard for him to breathe. They never- seriously, never- ended their calls so abrupt. And he knew he was at fault, and the guilt was settling heavy in his chest, his fingers twitching with the need to call him back, fix this. Instead, he forces himself to smile at the kids, asking them what they’d gotten from the vending machines.

They’re sitting on the chairs in front of him, munching their crisps as Dan tries to work on retrieving the file, and the silence only gives Dan more time to think about how rude he’d been to Phil. He really was feeling the part of a housewife raising the kids on his own, but he really hadn’t meant to unload his anger about it right there on the phone. He knew he’d likely regret doing it later, and his stomach twists anxiously as he thinks about how hurt Phil probably was.

He’s tapping his fingers anxiously against the wood of his desk when he hears Amelia ask him a question. “Sorry?” He says, cringing at how his voice cracks. He clears his throat and raises his eyebrows at her questioningly.

Amelia points to his phone. “Was that Phil?” She asks curiously.

Dan nods, brushing his fingers over his screen. “Yeah.”

“Were you guys fighting?” She asks, all the innocence of a six-year-old wrapped up in such a loaded question.

“Not exactly,” Dan says with a shrug. “We had a… Disagreement, I guess. And I think I hurt his feelings.” He stares at his screen, wishing it would light up with a text from Phil, saying that everything was okay and just erasing all of this.

“Oh,” Amelia says, glancing up at him from her bag of crisps. “So, are you going to tell him you’re sorry?”

“What?” Dan asks, as if he hadn’t already thought of that.

Amelia shrugs, but before she can speak, Jaiden beats her to it. “We always have to apologize to each other when we hurt each other. Don’t adults have to do that too? Or are there different rules?” He asks, tilting his head curiously.

Dan swallows hard. So, this was apparently now a teaching moment, as well as an actual serious issue in his personal life. Great. “No, the rules are the same. Adults should say they’re sorry when they know they’re… not right.”

“When they’re wrong,” Amelia supplies helpfully.

Dan’s lips quirk up into a smirk. “Yes, when they’re wrong.”

“When you’re wrong,” She specifies pointedly, raising her eyebrows at him.

“Okay, okay, I get it, I’m going,” Dan grumbles, grabbing his phone and unlocking it. He honestly can’t believe he’s just been told off by a six-year-old but it honestly wasn’t that much of a surprise.

Waiting for Phil to pick up is honestly a little nerve wracking, but when the ringing stops, Dan almost wishes it hadn’t. “Philip Lester,” the voice answers formally.

Dan pauses. Phil never answered his personal calls like that, and Dan was pretty sure he had more than enough time to check the caller ID. “Hey, um… I wanted to tell you…” He trails off, unsure of how to say it. He catches Amelia’s gaze on him and his face flushes with embarrassment. He unsubtly spins his chair around to the side, dropping his voice to a whisper so the twins can’t hear him. “I’m sorry, for being an ass.”

“Oh, Miss Gellar, that’s really generous of you to call us personally, but trust me, no apology is necessary.” Phil’s voice is still professional, and Dan wonders if he’s on another call at the same time or something.

“Erm- Phil?”

“Yes?”

“Just- this is Dan. Not Sarah Michelle Gellar.” He’s still whispering, but he shoots a confused look over to the twins, who are trying and failing not to look like they’ve been caught eavesdropping. He lowers his voice even more and sinks further into his chair.

“Right. My apologies about the confusion,” Phil says, his voice deeper than it usually is when he talks to Dan.

Dan still thinks this is a little odd, and Phil’s response definitely didn’t make any sense, but he decides to just try and say what he needed to say. “Oh, uh, okay. Well, I just wanted to say I’m, um, sorry. I shouldn’t have been rude to you.”

“Well, Miss Gellar, like I said, no apology is necessary. I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you- as a producer at the BBC you know, since that’s my responsibility. To, you know. Make sure that you and your- your team are taken care of.”

“Um…” Dan suddenly realizes Phil is not alone, and even though he is the producer, his coworkers are probably not thrilled at their boss getting two personal calls on the job in one day. Dan nearly laughs at the idea that Phil’s pretending to have a phone call with the Buffy actress he fancies so much, but he manages to hold it in. “Right, well… I guess we need to just talk about this at home?”

“Yes, we can discuss this at a later date, of course. And if you’d prefer, we could continue this conversation via text- I mean email, if that would be easier for you?”

Dan nearly snorts. Subtly wasn’t Phil’s strong suit. “Sure, I’ll… I can text you.”

“Great! It’s always a pleasure to speak with you, b- Miss Gellar. Drive home safe, er- I mean, if you’re driving. Just, you know, be careful. As a general rule.”

There’s a small grin on Dan’s face as he plucks at the string unravelling on the arm of his chair. “I will. I’ll see you at home, yeah?”

“Right. I love you- your work. I love your work. I’ll speak with you soon!” Dan is trying his hardest not to laugh: if he laughs, Phil will laugh and that would ruin this whole thing. He just hopes his coworkers don’t give him too much shit about this call.

“Bye, Phil,” Dan says softly as he hangs up the call.

~~~

By the time they actually leave the school, Dan is more than ready to just curl up in bed and go to sleep. But he knew that Phil likely wouldn’t be home yet, so he resigned himself to making dinner and watching the kids on his own for a couple more hours, at least until Phil gets home. It’s not like he hasn’t already done it a few times, because he definitely has been, all summer, but after their brief argument earlier he still feels a little more bitter about it than usual.

“A little more bitter” doesn’t even cover his anger when he walks into the flat and hears the tv playing upstairs in the lounge, however. Dan is grinding his teeth as he sends the twins off to play and goes to drop his things off in the kitchen. The very idea that Phil was home and hadn’t bothered to let Dan know that he’d be home early absolutely pisses him off, and his blood is boiling as he makes his way upstairs to confront him about it.

Phil is sat on the sofa when Dan stomps up the stairs, his eyes trained on his laptop instead of the tv, which is playing Buffy in the background. He’s wearing his glasses for once, and Dan notes that he’s still wearing jeans and a t-shirt, which is likely what he wore to work. He doesn’t seem to notice Dan at first, but when he does, he sends him a small smile, seemingly not realizing the anger that’s bubbling up in him. “Hey,” he says quietly, shifting to fully face Dan.

“Yeah, what the fuck?” Dan seethes, crossing his arms. He doesn’t step any closer to the couch, instead choosing to keep his distance.

Phil frowns, moving his laptop to the coffee table. “What?” He asks, dumbly.

Dan rolls his eyes. He has the worst feeling, like he wants to just hit Phil for being so stupid and making him feel so angry over something that really isn’t even that big of a deal. “Nice for you to call and let me know you’d be home,” he says bitingly.

The only way he can really describe Phil’s expression is completely confused. “Well, I live here, so.” He shrugs, stupidly. “I didn’t think I needed to call and tell you my every move.” His tone is joking but Dan doesn’t feel like laughing right now.

Instead, he apparently feels like fighting. “How long have you even been home?”

“I don’t know, like, an hour or so? What does it matter, Dan?” Phil moves to stand then, and that just fuels Dan’s desire to fight.

Dan laughs without humor. “Nice,” he mutters. Shaking his head, he turns to head back downstairs.

“Okay, what’s going on? What did I do?” Phil asks, following him downstairs.

Of course he doesn’t know. Dan’s subconscious reminds him. And sure, he probably has next to no idea what exactly has set Dan off this time, but surely, he remembers enough of their earlier conversation to have some idea as to what it is.

“Do you seriously see nothing wrong with this?” Dan snaps as he makes his way to the kitchen. “With me working and taking the kids with me, and basically being the full-time parent?”

Phil stumbles into the kitchen after him, looking more surprised than he has any right to. “Wait, are you, like, serious about that? That wasn’t just something you were annoyed about because you were having a bad day earlier?”

Dan scoffs at this. “Yes, I was serious about it.” He walks to the cupboard and pulls out a box of rice, setting it down on the counter a little too harshly.

“Okay,” Phil says slowly, watching Dan move around the kitchen with a cautious look on his face. “Well what we aren’t going to do is throw a fit and stomp around the kitchen like a five-year-old, Daniel.”

Hearing his full name sends a flood of heat to his cheeks, fueled by the annoyance he feels at Phil for acting like the perfect adult in the situation. “I’m not acting like a five-year-old,” he snaps, shooting a glare at his best friend.

Phil crosses his arms and leans back against the counter, his eyes following Dan as he sets a pot out on the stove after pouring the water in. “Do you want to talk about it? Or would you like for me to give you some more time to pout about it first?” There’s a smile tugging at his lips, and Dan loathes it.

“I’d rather you not just blatantly make fun of me right now.” He pretends not to notice when Phil steps closer to him, instead waiting impatiently for the water to simmer. He feels like it should already be boiling, based on how hot his eyes feel looking at it.

“I’m sorry,” Phil says quietly. “I didn’t mean to be unkind.” Dan feels him bring his hands up to his back, and he tries very hard not to sigh when Phil begins pressing his fingers in, lightly massaging. “Talk to me, Dan. I can’t read your mind, you know.”

Stirring the water gives him something to do that isn’t thinking about Phil’s hands on his back, so he stares down at the ripples of water instead of answering straight away. Phil’s persistent, though, and doesn’t just drop his hands when Dan doesn’t answer immediately. “I watch the kids more than you do,” he eventually says, his voice quiet.

Phil pauses his movements, but hums and resumes them, bringing his hands up higher and closer to Dan’s shoulder blades. “You do,” he agrees. “But Dan… This was your idea, you know. I’m not saying it’s fair that you watch them more, but you can’t… you shouldn’t just get pissed at me. I can take them to work with me if you want? Like we can swap days on who takes them to work or something?”

Although his offer is genuine, and honestly a pretty good idea, something about Phil’s words make Dan’s skin prickle with annoyance. Maybe it’s something akin to guilt over the reminder that this whole fostering thing was his idea, maybe it’s something else. Either way, he finds himself leaning away from Phil’s hands, although the older man doesn’t seem to take the hint, his hands just trailing down to press against the small of Dan’s back.

Dan twists away, trying his hardest to get his point across. “Can you-“

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” Phil’s hands fall away, and he sounds embarrassed.

“Don’t apologize,” Dan snaps, reaching for the rice and pouring it into the pot of boiling water.

They’re both silent for several minutes, and Dan’s starting to think that Phil is probably just going to leave him to his thoughts when he finally speaks again. “Do you want me to take them to work with me? At least on the days that you’re working?” He asks, moving to lean against the counter beside Dan.

He doesn’t mean to laugh, but the sarcastic huff falls from his lips before he gets the chance to stop it. “Could you even handle that? Watching two kids on your own?”

He regrets it immediately, but Phil quips back, just as fast, “I reckon I could. It’s not like you’re an expert in the area yourself, Dan.”

Dan almost feels hurt by that, but he knows that’s completely unfair, considering what he’d just said. He shrugs, not meeting Phil’s eyes. He’s already started, might as well just keep throwing himself into this black hole of regret. “I may not be, but so far I’ve had a hell of a lot more practice than you. You’re barely ever even around them.”

“Huh,” Phil clicks his tongue thoughtfully, but Dan knows he’s only humoring him. He’s mad now, Dan can tell. He braces himself for whatever argument is likely to come. “Thanks a lot. It’s great to feel so appreciated, Dan. Thought you couldn’t do this without me?” Dan’s head snaps up at the choked sound of Phil’s voice, guilt immediately flooding him when he sees Phil staring determinedly at the wall on the other side of the kitchen, his jaw set differently than it had been five minutes before.

“Phil-“

Phil doesn’t let him finish. “It’s whatever.” He pushes away from the counter and makes his way to the office.

“I didn’t-“ Dan stops himself with a sigh. They needed time to cool off, and Dan knew that he couldn’t help things right now, especially since he knew he wasn’t feeling any less annoyed. He watches Phil leave the room, cringing when he closes the sliding door to the office slightly harder than was necessary.

With a groan, Dan slumps against the counter, forgetting the rice for now to just take a minute to feel like complete shit for his behavior. It was completely unnecessary, and he knew it. Maybe he should check in with his therapist soon. It had been a few months since he’d seen her, with everything that was going on, so maybe it was time for a visit to sort out all the nonsense in his head.

He’s mid-crisis when he hears the twins’ voices as they walk into the kitchen. He has just enough time to sit up and plaster a fake smile on his face before they step in, engaged in a conversation. Mia looks a little perplexed as she walks over to the table, glancing around as if she’s looking for something.

“Where’s Phil?” She asks innocently.

Dan cringes at the question. He didn’t want to be that parent that made the kids think that their parents were fighting, especially since he wasn’t even sure he could define their spat as that. Even though he and Phil weren’t their biological parents, it still hurt him to think that the kids were likely going to assume the worst from them if they weren’t on good terms, and that’s not the kind of impression he wanted them to have.

“He’s in the office,” he answers her question with a nonchalant shrug.

“Oh. Why?” She asks, curious as only kids are. He glances over at her, rolling his eyes when he sees that she’s pulled her feet up on the chair underneath her. He considers chastising her, but figures there’s no real point since they’re not even eating dinner yet.

“He’s got some work to do, I guess.”

“Oh.” Mia shifts around in her seat for several moments before she eventually seems to get settled. Dan braces himself for whatever question she’s about to ask next, already assuming the worst. “What’s for dinner?”

Dan can’t help but laugh at this, turning around to show her the pot of rice. “We’re having rice tonight.”

The twins seem content with this and sit at the table chattering aimlessly as Dan moves around the kitchen preparing their dinner. He wants to go talk to Phil and resolve the issue they were having, but ultimately, he decides it was best to just finish preparing dinner and maybe go talk to him then. So, he listens to the twins chat at the table as he cooks, occasionally chiming in with a comment or two. Eventually he’s done cooking and prepares the kids a plate each and fetches them each a drink.

“I’m going to go see if Phil’s joining us for dinner, but you guys go ahead and eat. I’ll be right back.” The twins barely pay him any attention, still chattering as they begin eating their dinner. He smiles at them before turning to go check on Phil, his stomach fluttering with nerves. He usually hated conflict and if that’s what was waiting for him on the other side of that door, he didn’t want it.

But, he has to own up to his actions and the consequences they had, so he knocks on the door lightly before sliding it open. “Hey,” he calls softly, leaning against the door frame, a little uncertain about whether he should enter or not.

Phil glances up at him from the computer, his lips held in a thin line. “Hi.”

His eyes seem to be avoiding Phil’s completely of their own accord. If shame was a laser, he would be shooting two holes in the wall above Phil’s left ear.

Dan gestures to the red chair they kept in the office at the end of the desk, silently asking if he can come in. Phil’s jaw shifts noticeably but he nods anyway. Closing the door quietly behind him, Dan takes a seat on the edge of the chair, staring down at his hands and fiddling with the engagement band nervously. “I’m sorry. For what I said earlier.” Dan takes a deep breath before shifting to look straight at Phil. “I was tired and upset, but I shouldn’t have said that to you. And I’m sorry I did.”

There’s a beat of silence in which Phil just studies Dan, looking on the verge of anger. Without even hearing a response, Dan can already feel his eyes aching with hurt. He blinks quickly, shifting his gaze away to try and cover up his emotion. But of course, Phil notices. He always notices.

“I’m not mad anymore,” he says quietly. “It was a dick move and you shouldn’t have said it, but I understand why you did. And you were right, so...” Phil trails off then, and Dan can only stare at him in surprise. Of course, he still thought he was right and the whole thing had been unfair up until that point, but he didn’t expect Phil to actually agree with him.

Something about this tips Dan over the edge and he drops his head to his hands when he feels the tears falling from his eyes. He felt completely ridiculous to cry about it, but since when was it a surprise that he couldn’t keep a handle on his emotions? His arm swipes at the wetness under his eyes as a watery Phil stands up in his hazy peripheral vision.

Phil takes a seat on the edge of the desk and before Dan even has a chance to apologize for crying, Phil’s wrapping his arms around him and pulling him into his chest. Dan releases a shaky breath as Phil’s hand comes up to card through his hair. “I’m sorry. This is a lot harder than I thought it would be, but I don’t want to fight with you,” he whispers, bringing his own arms up around Phil’s waist.

There’s a low rumble in Phil’s chest as if he’s laughing. Dan can’t say he finds the situation funny, but he was going to give Phil the benefit of the doubt here, considering Phil’s not the one who’s currently having a breakdown. “I know. I don’t want to fight with you either.” He’s speaking directly into Dan’s hair, but the words are just barely muffled.

Dan shifts so that he can press his eyes into the sleeve of his own shirt, rather than ruin Phil’s with his crying. “I’m sorry I’m kind of a mess,” he says softly.

Phil laughs out loud at this, pushing Dan’s curls off his forehead and pushing his head back to gain eye contact at the same time. His eyes are bright, and Dan feels that the worst of their arguing is likely over. “Kind of?” He teases.

Rolling his eyes and disentangling his limbs from Phil, Dan sits back, smiling a little. “Kind of. Maybe a lot.”

A soft smile is etched on Phil’s lips, and he shifts a bit closer to Dan. “We still need to talk about this, don’t we?” He asks, sounding resigned to it.

“I think so, yeah. We should probably have dinner first, because I don’t think I have the energy to fight anymore without food.” He says it as a joke, but Phil’s mouth twists into a frown.

“Are we going to fight more?” He quirks an eyebrow.

Dan sighs and runs a hand down Phil’s thigh to squeeze his knee gently. “I don’t want to. But that doesn’t mean we won’t.”

Phil glances down at Dan’s hand on his knee and lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a sigh and a huff. “I’m done fighting with you, if I’m being honest. We need to figure some things out with the parenting thing, but I won’t fight with you about it.” His fingers come up to trace along the band on Dan’s left hand, his eyes following the movement.

He feels a smile tugging at his lips and he splays his fingers out across Phil’s knee so the older man can lace his fingers through his. “Okay. So, no more fighting. We’ll talk about it like adults.”

“Like proper adults,” Phil agrees, biting his tongue in a small smile.

“But first, food.” Dan shoves at him gently to get off the chair and out of his way, and Phil rolls his eyes playfully at this.

“Since we’re not fighting anymore, remind me to show you a meme later,” Phil comments as Dan pulls the door to the office shut behind him.

Dan huffs out a quiet laugh at this, shaking his head fondly when Phil quirks an eyebrow in question. “Okay. You can show me your memes after dinner.” He rolls his eyes dramatically before handing Phil a bowl from the cupboard.

“Don’t mock me,” Phil pouts, moving to fill it up with rice. “I don’t actually have to share my memes with you, you know. I can keep them to myself.”

With a shrug, Dan steps around Phil to grab two spoons, dropping one into Phil’s bowl before he moves to sit at the table where he’d left his own bowl earlier. “Suit yourself,” he says, glancing at the twins, who are both almost done with their food at this point.

“Do you guys want to see my memes? I found some good animal ones,” Phil asks the kids, and both of them nod enthusiastically.

Phil reaches for his phone, but Dan clears his throat, stopping his movement. “Not at the table, please?” He asks rather than demands, imploring Phil to put the phone away with a quirk of his eyebrow.

An apologetic smile is on Phil’s lips, but he nods and tucks his phone away. “Yeah, yeah, sorry.” He turns to the twins then. “We don’t eat with our phones out, but I forgot,” he says with a shrug before launching into questions about how their day was.

Something warm flutters inside him at the fact that Phil respected the phone thing without argument or even really a conversation at all. He’d have to thank him for it later. But for now, he joins in the conversation, trying to keep the panicked thoughts of the conversation they’d be having later out of his mind.

The kids talk about their day and the snacks they had gotten from the vending machines at the school, and Phil listens raptly, conversing with them easily. It makes the guilt in Dan’s gut rear its ugly head; clearly Phil did know what he was doing, and it wasn’t fair to say that he didn’t just because Dan had taken the task of watching the kids for the full day upon himself. It wasn’t like they’d discussed it beforehand, but he’d just assumed he’d be the one to take them to work with him and Phil hadn’t argued. Now Dan is starting to understand how important that communication would have been for them if they’d just thought to actually talk about everything in the first place.

He doesn’t have long to stress over it, though, as everyone finishes their dinner and it’s time to send the kids off to take their baths and get to bed. Dan allows Phil to take over the process of making sure the kids have brushed their teeth after they’ve each taken a bath, which Phil seems more than happy to do. Taking advantage of the time he has alone, Dan cleans up the kitchen and makes sure the door to the patio is locked before heading to his bedroom. He’d go tell the kids goodnight whenever Phil came back. Which definitely wasn’t another way to avoid him and put off the conversation they needed to have. Of course it wasn’t.

“Kids are tucked in and waiting for you to tell them goodnight,” Phil says when he walks into their room a bit later. Dan is laying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling contemplatively.

“Okay,” he mumbles before shoving his way off the bed. Phil settles himself on his own side, watching Dan as he leaves the room.

One good thing about the fact that the twins were now sharing a room was the fact that Dan only had to make one trip to say goodnight to them. When he walks in, they’re whispering across the room to each other, giggles piercing the silence. Dan just takes a moment to pause at the door, crossing his arms over his chest and grinning at the kids. “What’s so funny in here?” His voice is full of poorly-concealed laughter, but the twins both jump in surprise at the sound of his voice.

“Dan!” Amelia yells.

It’s almost 9pm. The neighbors might think he’s killing his children if they scream at this hour of the night.

It’s almost strange how quickly they’ve come to feel like “his children”. Or it would be, if it didn’t feel so objectively right to be with them day in day out. Everything with Phil aside, he can’t seem to remember what his life was like before.

He presses a finger to his lips. “You could deafen a fish right now, never mind our neighbors. Remember what we said about quiet time?”

“Sorry,” she says hastily, not looking particularly chastised. Then, innocently, “Did you come to tell us a story?”

Dan laughs softly, but shrugs, trying his best to brush off the moment they just had. “Sure, if you guys want one.” They didn’t always, but over the few weeks they’d been there, Dan had taken to offering a story every night when he tucked them in, usually after Phil had already gone to bed.

Jaiden sits up in his bed, leaning back against the headboard. “Can you tell us one about pirates?” He asks excitedly.

“Sure, bub.” Dan smiles as he moves over to sit on the edge of Jaiden’s bed. “Wanna come over here, Mia?”

The girl nods, scrambling out of her bed and over to Dan’s lap enthusiastically. Dan’s heart swells when she flops herself across his legs, waiting patiently for the story to begin. He hides his glee as he clears his throat, starting to spin a tale of pirates and magic and mermaids and horrible mocking parrots. The kids hang onto his every word, and Dan is almost as invested in the story as they are by the time he finishes it up.

“And that’s how Captain Susan saved the entire crew and all of the mermaids in the sea.”

Amelia yawns into his chest. “Good story,” she mumbles. Moments slide languidly past, and Dan feels as her breathing shifts from drifting to dreaming. He smiles down at her before he glances over at Jaiden, whose eyes are just barely open.

“You still awake, bub?” Dan whispers.

Jaiden tries to nod, but it’s clearly forced. “Mhm. ‘Nother story?”

Dan laughs quietly before shaking his head and moving to stand carefully, cradling Amelia’s tiny body to his chest as he carries her over to her bed. He tucks her in neatly, pressing a kiss to her forehead before he moves back over to Jaiden. “I think it’s time for sleep, actually. I can tell you another story tomorrow, okay?”

“M’kay,” Jaiden mumbles, his eyes drifting shut. “Night.”

“Love you.” He looked asleep, but Dan could swear that he sees Jaiden’s lips twitch into a small smile.

After tucking the blanket up to cover his tiny arms, Dan leans down and presses a kiss to the child’s forehead. He can’t help but squeeze his eyes shut against the feeling of tears that are currently welling up, and he curses himself for being so sensitive and emotional.

He’s just stood up when he hears a voice from the door. “That was sweet. You’re sweet with them.”

Dan spins around, his heart beating rapidly until he realizes it’s just Phil. “Jesus, you scared me,” he mutters as he steps towards the door, to where Phil is stood casually leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed. Dan slips past him, gently pulling the door closed behind him after checking that the nightlight is shining.

Phil levels him with a soft look. “Sorry,” he murmurs. His eyes take on a different shade of blue in the shadows, and something about the color just seems to make him more approachable, warmer than Dan’s seen him in so long.

“I’m sorry,” Dan blurts out, unable to stop himself.

Phil spares a glance to the door to the twins’ bedroom, looking a little nervous that they might hear. “C’mon, we should go to bed,” he speaks quietly, gripping Dan’s elbow gently as he begins guiding him down the hall to their room.

Dan gently tugs his arm out of his grip. “No, I’d like to talk about what happened earlier.”

“We can, Dan, but we can do it in our room, yeah? C’mon.”

With a sheepish smile, Dan nods slowly before allowing Phil to guide him back into their room, his hand slipping from Dan’s wrist, only to fall to the small of his back. They’re silent as they enter the bedroom and crawl under the covers. Phil pauses before he lays down, tugging the band off his left hand and placing it onto his nightstand, along with his glasses. Dan flushes when he catches Phil’s gaze dropping to his own ring, quickly tugging it off and sliding it onto the tabletop beside him.

“So,” Phil sighs out, leaning back against the headboard rather than laying down. “Where should we start?”

Dan chews on his lip as he copies Phil’s position, pulling his knees close to his chest and wrapping his arms around his legs. “I almost wish we didn’t have to start anywhere,” he mutters bitterly, staring at the duvet cover with disdain.

Phil shrugs. “There’s a problem here, and we need to do something about that. So.” He leaves the word hanging in the air, clearly waiting for Dan to make some sort of decision.

With a sigh, Dan begins speaking quietly and quickly, trying to rush all his thoughts out at once. “I’m sorry I was an asshole. I don’t know why the hell I thought that would help, or why I thought it was okay. You’re doing your best, and I get that. I just…” he trails off, feeling at a loss for words.

They sit in tense silence for a moment, but then Dan feels a pressure on his leg. He glances down, seeing Phil’s hand gently stroking along his calf in a comforting motion. A few months ago, he might’ve been embarrassed at the affectionate gesture, or even just laughed it off, but tonight he’s not laughing. Tonight, he wishes there were more touches to lean into.

“I don’t know what you’re feeling unless you try to describe it to me, Dan. And I… I want to understand what you’re feeling, and why you say and do the things you do. But, I can’t read your mind, Bear.” Phil speaks so softly, with such understanding and patience, that Dan feels a bit sick, dizzy and nauseous with guilt for ever accusing Phil of not being a good parental figure.

Without any thought to the consequence for the action, Dan twists to the side, pressing himself to Phil. He scoots down so that he can wrap his arms around Phil’s torso, burying his face in his chest. He needed the comfort of his best friend, and he needed to feel like he hadn’t completely fucked everything up already. “I’m sorry,” he breathes shakily, his head spinning.

“Shh, Dan. Dan, listen to me. It’s okay. Yeah? We’re fine, we just need to figure out what to do to make this easier for us. I’m not angry.” As Phil speaks, he pets Dan’s hair gently, the motion just as soothing as his words, if not more so.

Dan tries for a laugh, to assert that he’s being silly, overreacting, and is abjectly horrified when all that comes out are a few traitorous tears and half a sob. “Sorry, sorry,” he flounders, still trying to shrug it off. “I don’t know why- “

Phil regards him fondly. “Stop apologizing for everything.” Dan’s not sure when Phil’s hands came to cradle his head, but he falls into the steady, warm touch, trying to refocus. The only thing he seems to be able to refocus on, however, is Phil’s mouth.

‘Stop that,’ He chides himself sternly. ‘Now’s really not the moment. Tell him the important stuff, please.’

“So-“ Dan pauses himself when Phil sends him a look. With a sheepish shrug, Dan turns his eyes to look down at Phil’s shirt, which, upon inspection, Dan realizes is his own space cat t-shirt. He can’t help a tiny smile at the fact that Phil has, once again, stolen his clothes, so he just rolls his eyes. “I felt like a single parent,” Dan mutters finally, after several moments of silence have passed.

“Sorry?” Phil responds, as if he hadn’t heard.

Dan clears his throat. “The past few weeks. I um… I’ve gotten used to sort of being on my own with the twins, and I… It sort of feels like I’m doing it alone.” The admission burns his throat, and he can tell it takes Phil by surprise.

“Oh,” the older man says eloquently. “So, like… You were well serious about most of what you said, then, huh?” He sounds offended.

“No, no, not most of it. Just… That, really. I said things I didn’t mean, but it was because I was stressed about that in particular.” Dan shifts so that he’s no longer resting his head against Phil’s chest, instead looking up at him. “I didn’t mean any of the other stuff I said to you,” he says firmly, holding Phil’s gaze as he says it, “And I’m really, really sorry.”

Phil hums at this, seeming to consider it. “I’m sorry I’ve made you feel that way,” he says, crushing Dan with sincerity. “I didn’t realize that was what it was like for you, to be the one here with them full time.”

Dan shrugs. “It’s not like I said anything about it sooner.”

“You should have.” Phil’s voice has a bit of an edge to it now, and suddenly Dan isn’t so sure that he’s as calm as he’d seemed.

“I’m sorry,” Dan says again, so softly. “But in my head, I just thought it was easier on both of us if I just kept doing it. I thought…” He inhales sharply as it really hits him why he’d been so reluctant to tell Phil. “I wanted to be able to say that I could do it without you. If, you know, you do change your mind or whatever… I wanna be able to say that I didn’t just completely fail, you know?”

Phil leans away from him then, a hurt expression on his face. “Do you want to do this on your own? Is that… Please tell me that’s not what you’re saying, Dan.” His voice wavers, and Dan’s eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“No! God, no. Fuck, no. Okay, no, I completely didn’t say that right. No, Phil. I don’t want to do this alone. I-“ his voice cracks, embarrassingly, and he quickly ducks his head down, pressing his face against Phil’s chest. He feels Phil stiffen underneath him, and it occurs to him that Phil probably would appreciate an explanation rather than cuddles right now. With a deep breath, Dan sits up, putting space between them.

“Care to elaborate, then?” Phil deadpans, looking confused, and a little annoyed.

Dan nods quickly. “I don’t want you to change your mind. I’d… I don’t know what I’d do if you did, but I’d really rather that you didn’t, okay? I just want to be prepared if you do, and I guess I felt like taking the majority of the responsibilities with the kids would just give me more practice. But, I don’t know, I guess since it’s been a couple months since they came to live with us, I’ve just realized that maybe… Maybe you’re not going to change your mind,” he breathes, struggling not to sound too hopeful.

He knows he’s failed just by the shift in Phil’s expression, emotion flooding over his face. “Come here, idiot,” he mumbles affectionately. Dan complies easily, scooting closer and allowing Phil to wrap his arms around his shoulders. “I’m not going anywhere. So, you can loosen the reigns a little, and give me some credit. I may not be around them as much as you are, but,” Phil shrugs then, as if he isn’t sure he wants to elaborate. “I’m good at things too, you know. Not always the same things you’re good at, especially with the kids, but I’m not entirely useless.”

“I know-“ Dan begins to protest, but Phil just shakes his head.

“I wasn’t finished,” he reprimands gently. Dan immediately shuts his mouth. They’d been seriously lacking communication recently, he’d let Phil talk as much as he damn well pleased now. “I know I can’t take over everything that you do, but I can do things to help out, you know. Like, there are things I can do to make the load a little more even between us. We just need to figure out how to even it out. Together.”

Dan nods slowly, his cheeks heating up at the phrasing. Unfortunately, this circumstance was not anything like the dreams he’d once had about he and Phil’s future, so that little part of Dan needed to take a seat.

“I have a suggestion, as a starting point,” Dan whispers into Phil’s shirt a few moments later, when the silence has become too much for him to bear.

“Yeah?” Phil asks, petting Dan’s curls.

Dan chews on his bottom lip for a moment, tilting his head to the side to do so, allowing his cheek to press to Phil’s chest instead. Before he speaks, he feels a swipe of a finger against his lips. He glances up at Phil with wide eyes, having parted his lips at the feeling.

Phil’s face is closer than he’d realized, and his gaze is trained on Dan’s lips, a frown stretching across Phil’s own. “Quit chewing on your lips, you’re ruining them,” he chastises.

His face burning with embarrassment, Dan mutters something about it not mattering since he wasn’t using them for anything anyway. Phil dutifully ignores this. “My suggestion,” Dan diverts the conversation back to that, causing Phil to raise his eyebrows patiently. “I’d like it if you got up with us in the mornings. So, you know… We can have like breakfast together and stuff. You know. All of us.” He didn’t want to come right out and say it, but ever since he’d found out they’d be fostering two children right at the start, he’d imagined lots of family meals, and his heart just thrummed every time he thought about it.

“Sure,” Phil agrees easily, his hand coming up to brush Dan’s hair up off his forehead. Phil had a certain penchant for touching Dan’s hair, and tonight it seemed especially prominent. “I’m usually awake anyway, so that doesn’t sound too bad.”

Then, Dan’s definitely confused, because he knows that Phil is never up before he is. “No, you aren’t. You’re always still in bed when I leave with the kids.” Dan wouldn’t push the issue, but he’s almost certain he’s right about this. And if he’s not, Phil is certainly getting better at acting like he’s asleep.

“Well, I mean maybe not every morning,” Phil concedes. Dan smiles triumphantly, but his victory is short-lived. “But typically, most mornings, I’m awake after you start getting ready. I can hear you singing in the shower almost every morning, so I usually stay awake until you’re out of our room entirely, then I sleep until my alarm goes off,” Phil admits sheepishly, looking a little embarrassed to admit it.

Dan’s surprised, and also a little mortified that Phil hears his horrible attempts at singing in the mornings. Rather than apologize or try to joke about it, Dan immediately denies it. “I don’t… I do not sing in the shower!”

Phil grins at him. “Yes, you do,” he says gleefully. “You were singing Celine Dion this morning. It was actually kind of lovely, you’re getting much better.”

Now Dan’s positive his face is flaming. Huffing, he rolls over, turning away from Phil. “Shut up!” He whines, inexplicably embarrassed. Phil had heard him sing a thousand times, but something about the fact that he’d just admitted to actively listening made Dan’s stomach churn nervously.

Without warning, Dan feels a warm body pressed against his back. He squeaks, but that doesn’t stop Phil from tossing his arm over Dan’s waist. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you, Bear. I won’t say anything else about your concerts anymore.”

Dan groans, hearing the smile in Phil’s voice. “Actually shut up, unless you want to sleep on the couch.”

Phil’s arms wind tighter around Dan, his breath coming out as a laugh against the back of Dan’s neck. “No!” He protests through his giggles. “I wanna sleep in here with you. I’ll behave, I promise.”

Dan ignores how coupley this feels in favor for elbowing Phil. “You’re crushing- my lungs,” he gasps, exaggerating his plight.

Another soft laugh, but Phil eventually gets settled so that they’re both comfortable in their cuddling position. It’d been occurring more often lately, this intertwined sleeping thing, but they typically weren’t so obvious about how they ended up in that position. Tonight, Phil didn’t seem to care to show affection, or to show that he wanted it, either.

Not that Dan minded, of course. He was perfectly fine with this. Cool as a cucumber.

“So, wake me up in the morning, yeah? If I don’t wake up on my own. I’ll make breakfast if you want, or help the kids get ready, or whatever you want me to do.” Phil promises from behind him, his voice low in their close proximity.

Dan tries to nod but stops himself in fear of smacking Phil in the face with his head. “Alright,” he says instead. “That’d be lovely, thank you.” He’s already slightly drifting off, but he’s almost positive he feels a pair of lips press to the base of his neck.

“Okay. We’ll sort out the rest tomorrow. Night, Bear.” Phil sounds just on the verge of sleep himself, unsurprisingly. They’d had quite a busy day, after all.

“Night,” Dan echoes before falling into a dreamless sleep.

~~~

School starts back mid-September, and by then, Dan and Phil had gotten into a routine with the kids. Dan still took them to work with him on the days that he worked, which increased the closer they got to the beginning of the academic year, but Phil had been consistently waking up to be with them in the mornings. Sometimes, he’d even silence Dan’s alarm and allow him to sleep in some while he got up and made breakfast and started getting the kids ready for the day. Dan especially enjoyed those days.

But now the beginning of school was on the horizon, and the house was a flurry of buying school supplies and sorting out schedules. With the kids in school, it would be much easier to take care of them, as they’d only have to watch them before and after school, as opposed to watching them while trying to work. He was beyond relieved for this, but also a little nervous, on the twins’ behalf. Starting at a new school was always scary, no matter how old you were, so he was more than a little worried about how they might adjust.

So, in an effort to minimize the grievances they might have about starting at a new school, Dan had spoiled them a bit when it came to buying their school supplies. Phil had been a little less than amused.

“Daniel,” Phil had called from the kitchen, sounding confused but also annoyed.

Cringing, Dan stood and opened the door to the office, leaning out the door and looking across their lounge to where Phil stood, staring at the array of shopping bags in bewilderment. “Oh, hi. Welcome home, babe.” The pet name slipped out without his conscious permission, but Phil didn’t seem phased by that.

No, his focus was still on the shopping bags. “What are these?” He asked, gesturing at them with a quirked eyebrow.

Dan pursed his lips, staring at the bags contemplatively. “They look like shopping bags,” he said, shrugging innocently.

Phil settled him with a deadpan look. “Clearly. But what do they contain? You went school shopping, yeah?”

Dan pretended to be surprised. “Oh, yeah! Yes, we did. That’s school supplies.” He nodded, as if that answers Phil’s question completely.

As he starts to pull the office door closed, Phil protested. “Dan! What-“ he rifled through the bag nearest to him, pulling out a pencil box with a look of confusion on his face. “What is this?”

Biting his lip, Dan shrugged. “A dinosaur pencil case?” he offered.

Phil stared at him. “A dinosaur pencil case,” he repeated. Dan nodded, and Phil returned to rifling through the bags. He huffed and pulled out several different things. “Crayons, colored pencils, and markers? What the hell do they need all three for?” He demanded.

“For art class! They need different mediums to choose from to cultivate their artistic side!” Dan had explained hurriedly. He just hoped Phil stopped looking or else he’d find- oh no.

Out of one of the smallest bags on the table, Phil had pulled out Dan’s proudest purchase from the day’s shopping. He had known that it was a little silly, and that Phil would likely be a little annoyed, but he couldn’t help himself. They were just so cute!

Evidently, Phil doesn’t share this sentiment. He had stared at the boxes closely, his eyes not leaving them as he spoke. “Dan,” he’d said carefully. “What the hell are these?”

Dan chewed on his lip, contemplating not answering at all. “Mini first aid kits?” He finally responded when Phil’s gaze met his.

Phil let out a deep sigh through his nose. “And why the hell,” he paused. “Would our six-year-olds,” another pause. “Need them?”

After a brief pause, Dan answered. “They might, um… need a plaster?”

Sighing, Phil had put them back on the table and turned to face Dan with an unamused stare, crossing his arms. Dan couldn’t help but walk over to him, holding up the first aid kit so he could look at the back.

“Look, Phil,” he’d said in a sweet voice. “They have Trolls plasters. Trolls. I couldn’t just not get them.”

Phil had stared at him, his lips in a straight line. “You could have bought them a single pack of Trolls plasters,” he deadpanned.

Dan had shaken his head, holding them closer. “But not these Trolls plasters.”

After a brief stare-off, Phil had rolled his eyes and raised his hands in defeat. “Whatever, I don’t care. I said I’d let you do the school shopping. You did the school shopping.” He shrugged, tugging the box out of Dan’s hand and tossing it to the table before stepping closer and wrapping his arms around his waist. Dan had been a little surprised, but he’d hugged him back, resting his chin against Phil’s shoulder. Phil sighed, squeezing gently before pulling away a bit. “Wait, I gave you my card to go shopping.”

Panicked, Dan tugged himself closer to Phil, laughing awkwardly. “Yeah, you know, it’s fine, they have everything they need for school now, so-“

Phil twisted around to look at the bags on the table. “How much did you spend, Dan?”

“Let’s not- what do you want to do for dinner?”

~~~

A few days later, Phil had a day off work, and it just so happened that it was on a day that Dan really needed to go into work and help Louise with some administrative things. Despite the fact that they’d been sharing the load a whole lot more lately, Dan hadn’t left the twins alone with Phil for more than an hour or two. He was looking at probably a span of six hours that he’d be at work, leaving Phil to keep the children alive all by himself. To say that he was nervous was an understatement.

“And they have their snacks and everything downstairs, but make sure you don’t let them have too many before dinner. The first aid kit should be in the bathroom, under the sink. Oh, and make sure you-” Dan’s instructions are interrupted by a heavy sigh from beside him.

He glares at Phil, who’s giving him a bored look from where he’s sat on the sofa. “Dan, honestly, you need to just relax. Everything is fine, I promise. I’ve got this.” He smiles then, clearly trying to be reassuring.

Dan wrings his hands anxiously. “Are you sure? I can- I can take them with me if you’re not sure. I don’t mind, and actually yeah, let’s-”

“Daniel, if you finish that sentence with anything other than a cheerful goodbye, I might have to smother you with a bath towel.”

A little startled, Dan glances at Phil, chewing his lip contemplatively. “Goodbye?” He says, although it comes out as a question.

Phil rolls his eyes before standing up, moving over to gently push Dan in the direction of the stairs. “Yes, goodbye, see you later. Be safe driving, I promise you we’ll be perfectly fine here. I’ll text you every hour and let you know how things are going, but if you don’t leave now, Louise might actually murder you when you get there.”

Dan allows himself to be guided to the stairs, sighing deeply in defeat. “Every half hour?” He suggests hopefully.

Phil settles him with a clearly unamused look. “Every hour,” he reiterates.

“Fine,” Dan huffs. “But you better not kill my kids,” he says playfully, stopping and turning just enough to grin at Phil.

The older man rolls his eyes. “Our kids,” he shoots back before leaning in and pecking Dan’s cheek. “Go, goodbye, you’ve got things to do, I have children to spoil.”

“Do not fill them with sugar, Philip Lester.”

Phil sticks his tongue out at him as Dan starts down the stairs. “You’re not the boss of me, Howell. You’re just a co-manager.”

“I’ll co-manage your mum,” Dan calls, grinning when he can hear Phil sputter, clearly offended. “Bye, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

“That doesn’t give me very many options, Dan!”

“Shut up!”

#phan #phanfiction #foster parent au #foster parent #bbc producer!phil #school counselor!dan #parent!phan #parent!au #friends to lovers #best friends #bed sharing #fake relationship #fluff #light angst #comfort #arguing

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honeymoonjin · 6 years ago

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enjoy your stay - chapter two

A/N I finished a little early, so I figured I might as well put it out there and get working on chapter three!

ENJOY YOUR STAY ↳Boss!Namjoon, Chef!Jin, Receptionist!Hoseok, Bellboy!Jimin, Bartender!Jungkook, Accountant!Yoongi, Photography student!Taehyung ↳Some inappropriate language and cursing. Later chapters will have sexual content.

SUMMARY ↳Working the graveyard shift at a hotel isn’t the most exciting job in the world, but your coworkers are certainly happy to have you here.

CHAPTER TWO ↳Settling into your new job certainly takes time. Luckily, you’re getting on with the other workers. The only problem is your newest guest.

You had been working at the hotel for a little under two weeks now, 7 nights a week, and while you were getting used to the actual work, the upside-down sleep schedule was another thing.

You weren't usually one for coffee, but you found if you got it from the cafe down the road that had a million different flavoured syrups, you could disguise the bitter liquid as you inhaled it by the litre. Sleeping during the day was just plain weird, and it was probably naive of you to expect a smooth transition to a nocturnal timetable.

That being said, the warm, caring boss of yours was doing his best to ease the change, even once going so far as to let you take a nap in his office - while he was still working in there, no less - when you felt like you were about to fall asleep on your feet.

So far, the workload had been pretty straightforward, but as you would quickly come to learn, every night was different. Your regular tasks were mostly just checking up on everything and everyone, and passing along any messages between staff.

When Jin decided mid-dinner service to tweak the menu for the following night, he couldn't exactly leave and go find Namjoon to tell him. When Hoseok ran out of printer paper, he couldn't just walk away from the reception desk, as empty as the lobby may seem. That was the main reason why Namjoon had to hire a night manager. He found it impossible to be in a million places at once while trying to do his own work.

Your first couple of weeks so far had been you checking up on each of the six staff members (five, really, since you hadn't seen Yoongi since your first night) every two hours, and helping Namjoon out in the office with filing in between.

Currently, at 5am, two hours before you were free to go home and fall in a pile on your bed again, you were cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by haphazard piles of paper. Namjoon was at his desk, gazing intensely at his computer screen, fingers hovering over the keys. While his work was in dealing with current issues like payrolls, bookings, and maintenance, you had been tasked with the backlog of files. Namjoon, while a pretty organised guy in most aspects, had no respect for chronological and alphabetical ordering.

He had shown you a cupboard in the back of his office, with a stack of aging paper the height of a small child leaning dangerously to one side, and asked that you create a filing system.

Here you had been for the past three days, relishing the two-hourly break where you could work out the creaking in your knees and stare at something other than black ink on a white page. It wasn't difficult work, just menial and time-consuming. The paper-heap was a heavy mix of printouts of important emails, photocopies of Yoongi's financial reports, receipts, and, oddly enough, a smattering of Christmas cards every now and then to mark that you had trawled through another year of paperwork.

The pile in the cupboard was finally dwindling, but now your new task was to work out a way to put all the assorted categories away. As it was, every time one of you wanted to leave the office, you had to tiptoe your way through stacks of paper littering the carpet.

You groan and let out a stretch, wincing as you feel the vertebrae in your back and neck click. "Namjoon, I might need to pop down to the office stationery store to get some filing boxes. I think it'll take me the rest of the night to finish up the last of it and then put them away."

He blinks tiredly at you. "The office store closes at 5pm. You missed it by twelve hours."

You yawn. Yup, definitely not used to the nocturnal schedule.

He twitches his eyebrows. "Actually, you could pop down to the accounts firm. It's a two minute drive, and they've got a stationery cupboard. If I gave Yoongi a call, he could set some stuff aside for you."

"Oh, you don't have to wake him for that. I can go another time," you offer, shuffling out of your cross-legged stance to stretch out your legs, wiggling your feet back and forth.

He lets out a laugh that sounds more like a hum. "You don't know Yoongi very well. If you want to sleep, he's probably awake." He pauses. "And vice versa, actually." Namjoon sits up in his office chair and starts punching in a number on his desk phone. After a few moments of silence, his face lightens when someone speaks on the other end.

They share a brief conversation, you too sleepy to pay much attention, and you jump when something falls into your lap. A set of keys on a worn leather keyring. You look up at Namjoon in confusion.

"Take the company car," he explains, "looks more official than you showing up in your Corolla to sneak into the firm." He gives you a tired grin.

You nod affirmatively and pick your way out of the messy office.

The accounting firm is extremely large and well-off, which is probably due to the complete lack of competition in your small town. Surprisingly, there are at least six cars in the vast lot, and the building is totally lit up inside.

It's upon entering that you realise you have no idea where to actually go, so you awkwardly wander around the first floor until you find a young lady hunched over a computer in her tiny cubicle, and ask her where Yoongi worked.

Strangely, she guides you to the top floor of the building, even scanning her staff ID to be able to select the top floor on the elevator panel. Yoongi's office is massive, in the far corner of the floor, with his name engraved into the glass door.

You knock awkwardly, although it's not like he can't see you. He tilts his head to wave you in, then again at the chairs when you don't make a move to go further into the room.

Sitting on the plush armchair, you rub your eyes. "I'm just here to pick up some filing boxes for Namjoon?"

He gives you a small, bemused smile. "So you aren't just here for my company?"

"This is your company?" When he furrows his brow, you realise your mistake. "Oh man, I get what you mean now. I'm sorry, this new job has me tired all the time. I'm a little out of it, if you couldn't tell." Partly to emphasise your point, and partly to avoid his catlike stare, you lower your face and rub at your eyes.

He's silent for a moment, but then you hear his chair roll back and feel the warm weight of his hand on your shoulder. "I'll forgive you this time, sleepyhead. Here, I'll take you to our storage room."

The rest of your visit is filled with comfortable silence; you, too tired to make conversation, and him, probably wanting you to leave as soon as you could so he could get back to his own work. The rest of your shift goes quickly with that same silence, as you do one final round before leaving, drive home with your eyes as open as you can hold them, and collapse in your bed the moment you walk in your front door.

It's a little over six weeks before you see a single customer out and about between the hours of 11:30pm and 7am, and when it happens, you're completely bewildered. It's a young man curled up in the corner of one of the booths in the bar. He has a half-empty glass of some amber liquid, and a little bowl of nuts at the end of the table, and the space in front of him is covered by glossy photographs and a single, very expensive-looking camera.

You had almost forgotten what you were supposed to do when a customer was out of their rooms, and for a moment you hovered in the doorway, unsure whether you should ask him if he needed any help, or just not bother him at all.

In the end, it's Jungkook that makes the decision for you. "Oh, there you are! I have a message for you to pass on to Namjoon!"

The man looks up from the booth to see how Jungkook's speaking to, and you share a moment of eye-contact with him as you walk across the open space to the bar.

He's gorgeous. You selfishly hope that he's one of those customers that stays for a week or two, rather than overnight, in the hope that you get to see him again. His eyes stare deeply into yours, and it's you that looks away first. "What can I do for you, Jungkook?"

"Tell Namjoon Tae arrived."

You blink. "Is that a type of alcohol, or?"

Jungkook laughs. "What is it with you and assuming alcohol is on my mind 24/7? Just because I'm a bartender doesn't make me an alcoholic. No, Tae's that handsome gentlemen over there."

You can't help but sneak another look. The man in question, Tae, lifts his hand in a jaunty wave, but his face stays neutral, curious rather than overly friendly.

You nod at him and turn back to Jungkook. "Tae's here, got it. Anything else?"

Jungkook grins. "Tell him Tae is refusing to pay for his drinks."

"O- Oh. Do you need me to..." you trail off lamely, not sure what it is exactly you could possibly do about a customer refusing to pay.

"Force him to hand over his cold, hard cash? Feel free to try. I'd certainly love to see that."

You clear your throat in embarrassment, feeling the weight of Tae's gaze on you. "I'll go tell Namjoon," you muster, and hightail out of the bar.

Namjoon doesn't seem particularly shocked or concerned that there was a thief in the bar when you told him about your encounter. He just nods understandingly, and leans back deeper in his chair, swaying lazily back and forth.

"So, you know him then?"

His wry smile confirms it. "He's my little brother," he explains. "I give him free accommodation while he stays in school. He's doing a degree in fine arts, if you can believe it." He sighs. "Somehow he thinks it means everything in this hotel is free to boot. That punk."

"That's really sweet of you, Namjoon. I wish I had a brother like you, maybe I wouldn't have dropped out of uni."

He looks up at you in surprise. "I didn't know you went to uni."

"Well," you allow, "it's probably not a good look to put med school dropout on your resume."

"Med school, huh?" He gives you a soft smile. "I went to veterinary school, if you can believe it."

You think of his friendly disposition and caring nature. "I can, actually. It'll probably come in handy one day when Jin accidentally lets his fish of the day loose in the hotel."

He laughs for a few moments, but sobers up again. "Look, we have to put Tae in a different room from his usual because it's been booked already. Would you mind tracking him down and taking him to room 12? I'll set him up with a key tomorrow, well, today I guess, but for now he needs someone to unlock the door for him."

"Sure thing, boss." Your body is half out the door before he calls out to you.

"You don't have to call me boss, you know?"

You grin at him. "Sure thing, Joonie."

You leave before he gets the chance to take it back and stroll contentedly through the hallways, back the way you came. By the set-up Tae had before, you didn't imagine he had gone anywhere in the past few minutes.

You were right. He was still in his spot, Jungkook coming out from behind the bar with a bottle of something to top up the empty glass held in Tae's outstretched hand.

You intercept the bottle as its tipping, making sure the glass stays empty. Jungkook simply nods and pulls back, but Tae looks up when the pouring fails to commence and levels you with a heavy stare.

"Namjoon asked me to take you to your room. Room 12, this time."

He looks back at his elaborate set-up of pictures, then back at you slowly. "I'm busy, but thank you."

He nods meaningfully at Jungkook, who hesitantly holds up the bottle, but you hold your hand out to stop it again. "I know, and I'm sorry, but you need me to unlock the door for you for now, and I get off in twenty minutes."

"Then come back in twenty minutes."

"Uh... I would really prefer if you-"

"Relax, relax, I'm kidding." He shuffles up all the photos painstakingly slowly, disrupting their meticulously arranged display, and tucks them into a pocket of his camera bag. Once he's finished, he jerks his head at his empty glass with a cocky smirk on his face. "One for the road, if I may, ma'am?"

You shrug and shake your head. "Whatever, sure."

Jungkook pours two fingers into the glass, then disappears behind the bar. You stand, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, as Tae savours each mouthful, at long last draining the glass and standing up with his things.

You lead him to his room in silence, not in the mood to make your final few minutes of work go on any longer with his brand of nonsense. He doesn't notice, or chooses not to comment on, your brisk pace through the hallways.

When the pair of you arrive at the door, you unlock the door, and lean in to hold it open for him. Unlike most people who would try their best to shuffle in quickly without any necessary physical contact, he faces you as he slips his body past, breath hot on your face as he passes close enough for you to feel his camera bag push against your torso.

When he's in, you snatch your hand back and fail to say a proper goodbye before leaving.

The lobby is much closer than the service entrance, and so you take that way out in order to leave on time, forgetting to even let Namjoon know you were heading off.

You didn't know what it was specifically about Tae that made your blood boil, but you suspected it was the frustrating combination of an asshole that was devastatingly handsome. A man like that knew exactly what he was doing and how it would rile you up, but some part of you was still glad he was going to be hanging around for a whole semester. Maybe you were a sadist, maybe you were just sexually frustrated.

On your way out the lobby, Jimin is absent, but so is the luggage trolley, so you assume he must have hit the jackpot and got an actual customer for once. Unfortunately for him, it was also at the time he was meant to be heading off. An unfamiliar man in that familiar uniform and hat was hanging around the lobby couches waiting to take over.

Hoseok, however, was still at reception, although his legs were kicked up on the corner of the desk and he was stuffing his face with ramen from a takeout container. He lit up, cheeks full, and waved you over once he saw you.

Hoseok had a habit of making you hang around for ages whenever you did your rounds. Whenever he had anything that needed doing or messages that needed to be passed on, it always came with twenty minutes of backstory and digressions until he finally reached the original point. You couldn't ever get mad at him though, because he was just too lovely to you.

"Hey, muppet, you off?"

You gasp in mock surprise. "My goodness, Hoseok, what if a customer had heard you? They'd be outraged at your informality and they'd leave a one star review on Yelp!"

He narrows his eyes at you, shaking his chopstick like he's wagging a finger. "Don't be foolish. The customers don't come here for the hotel, they come here for my beautiful beside manner."

"You aren't a doctor, Hobi."

"In a way! Just instead of a surgeon of the body, I'm a surgeon of the...customer service."

You sigh at him. "If I understood what you were trying to say, perhaps I could've responded to it."

"Genius doesn't come to all of us, don't worry."

"Okay, Customer Service, MD., I'm going home to sleep off the memory of this conversation." You lean in and give him a side-hug, careful to avoid staining your dress shirt with his spicy breakfast.

"Bye bye, muppet. Maybe if Kyeong-eun arrives on time for once in her life, I can walk you out."

"You still owe me coffee for that one time I snuck out to get you a McFlurry. See you tonight, Hobi."

“See you.”

#bts scenarios #bts au #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts x reader #namjoon x reader #yoongi x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #hoseok x reader #enjoy your stay

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snakefromeden · 6 years ago

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Some Self-Reflection

Sometimes I think to myself -- and I know others must think this, too -- "wow, Oro/chi/maru and Y/ui Ko/mori are two very different people, how do those identities coexist in the same personality?"

Good question. I'm not entirely sure, but I can provide speculation, as I’ve been examining this quite a bit, recently. I assume this is a somewhat safe place to gather my thoughts, and reconcile two very distinct parts of myself. I apologize if this post is a bit haphazardly composed. It is off the cuff.

(Note: I will not be discussing Hiroyuki in this post. I may not ever discuss Hiroyuki publicly.)

I was tempted to borrow Freud’s model of the mind and ascribe Orochimaru and Yui to Ego and Superego, respectively, but the more I thought about it the more that line of thinking fell apart. Those identities do not fit in those boxes, but stretch between all three equally.

My awakening as Orochimaru was a long journey. I was barely familiar with otherkin and a close friend had opened up to me about being Nagisa Shingetsu. I had no connection with the community and wouldn’t until years later. So I embarked on that journey on my own and with the assistance of an individual I now refer to as a canonmate (even though I find that term somewhat incorrect for our relationship. I do not believe our bond was formed within our canons, but rather in this life in a way that has affected me deeply enough that I feel ‘sourcemate’ is too impersonal.), I discovered myself and settled in nicely. Rather deeply, in fact. I’m not sure whether this is a spiritual or a psychological foundation, but as time passes I find myself leaning towards my identity as Orochimaru being spiritually founded.

I am a curious being. I seek out experiences and information hungrily. Monotony can bore me, but I am not so shallow as to move on heartlessly from people. Puzzles, especially when those puzzles are people, are fun. This may be an unfortunate consequence of ADHD, but I lose interest in things, often quickly. Interests are fleeting and those that stick are cherished and held dear.

Sometimes I struggle to find my face. An aspect of ADHD called RSD is an influence that buries me deep to try to please others, for fear of rejection. Because when someone matters so much, you’d do anything to keep them from hating you, right? Anything to keep from messing it up?

I am familiar with scorn. This brain is particularly attuned to it, and will find it even where it is not. I struggle with this, as there are many people who would like to see my true face, and sometimes I lose it in the fear.

In terms of source parallels, I have:

- Been given up on - Scorned by my peers - Gone through a period of obsession with a singular goal - Had a thorough, decisive clash with a guiding figure - Rebuilt myself into a stable, comfortable state of being after hitting rock bottom

Orochimaru is who I am. Deeply, on a personal level, and I always will be. Even as Yui shifts become more prominent, I am Orochimaru.

My awakening as Yui was different.

In fact, I won’t even begin with Diabolik Lovers when talking about my awakening. I always had a fascination with vampires, since I was very, very young. It started with the Underworld movies and progressed as one would expect with a vampire fascination. Eventually, I got into Vampire Knight. Me and a whole group of friends did. In that way that young teenagers do, we each took up a different character as “ours” from it. I choose Yuuki Cross and I kept the name for years. In fact, vestiges of it still remain in my online identity. I eventually shortened “Yuuki” to “Yuu,” which is still part of the url of my main blog and I’ve only picked up “Merp” in the past couple years.

It definitely didn’t feel quite right, back then, calling myself Yuuki. There was something about it that didn’t fit, and I eventually did away with it, but of course she’s always been dear to me.

Now, to Diabolik Lovers. I watched the anime one day with a friend on a whim and we binged most of it. In waking hours, I had no real immediate connection to the show other than a morbid fascination. I had a dream that night, a vivid dream about a man who drugged me without me knowing, a simultaneously comforting and anxiety-inducing presence. I remember his fingers in my hair.

I still remember this dream. I went over it time and again. But that visceral dream stayed with me for years. I would stress about it. I would try to analyze it. It had been so emotional that I woke up crying. I wanted to hate the man in my dream but the only rancor I could muster was petty.

I found myself drawn to what I critically did not consider to be a good anime. I liked the boys. I liked the boys a lot. They felt familiar to me.

It wasn’t until years later, after I had already had my awakening as Orochimaru, that I was preparing to cosplay to a local convention and was describing the character of source!Yui Komori to a friend that I stopped mid-sentence and realized I’d used the same words -- exact same sentences -- to describe myself before. I had not considered that I could be anyone else other than Orochimaru.

This was an identity I had to consider for a longer time, as it doesn’t reconcile well with my past the way Orochimaru does. The closest parallel I can think of is parental abandonment. I did not have a very religious upbringing, mostly seeing church as a cool book club that I went to for fun until I realized everyone was serious, although nowadays I have found some faith again, but it is non-denominational and almost utilitarian, even teetering on agnostic at times.

I did eventually settle on the fact that I might be Yui Komori. I was unsure about the identity at first, because I, for the life of me, couldn’t pick out a significant attachment to any of the boys that wasn’t for them as a character.

Then, of course, I realized I was a dumbass. I don’t even remember the moment that the switched was flicked and I realized who I missed. I think I was just thinking about my reference albums on my (mostly unused) roleplay presets and looked at a Reiji sprite and got hit with a wave of yearning.

Further reflection and not taking that feeling for face value included a handful of different trains of thought. “A Certain Prophet’s Fate” is a song that has always managed to get me intensely hyped, even as far as pulling me out of dissociation. I have always been drawn to scientist-type characters. Shuu Iwamine. Szayel Aporro Granz. Sano Kojima. To name a few notable examples. But something was always missing. Something, something, something.

So I accepted the yearning for what it was. I missed someone. Someone I could probably find. Finding Reiji Sakamaki wasn’t the hopeless pipe dream that trying to find Sakumo Hatake is. It was something I could do.

For this, I made my Diabolik Lovers kin server, which was probably the most roundabout way I could’ve done this. I had very little expectations. My previous adventures with kin servers had been rather fruitless back when I claimed to be Sano Kojima before I knew the difference between a kintype and a c’link, and I’d been very disappointed by those claiming to be Akira Kojima.

I was a little surprised but, as stated, not expecting much when the man himself messages me asking for an invite. If you have any familiarity with the more serious and legitimate side of the Otherkin community, you probably know who I’m talking about.

I’ve been examining myself rigorously since, really. My job leaves me a lot of time alone with my thoughts, lots of time to get inside my own head and dig around. And I’ve found the parallels I was looking for.

The parallels are in my day-to-day, the person I am. The parallels are in joys of helping people, a preternatural clumsiness, a diligence, a dedication, often at the expense of my own health, which is somewhat of a flaw. The person I aspire and hope to be. A person that I believe I have become and may have always been.

I firmly believe this identity to be psychologically founded. I do not believe there is a spiritual aspect to this identity, which differentiates it somewhat from my identity as Orochimaru, which is how I reconcile the identities.

If I had to ascribe them into Freud’s model of the psyche, I’d say Orochimaru’s roots are in my Ego and Id, whereas Yui’s rooted in both my Ego and Superego. They each have tendrils in the opposite ends of the spectrum, as well. They tangle, they interlock.

Together, they make me. I am them. There isn’t a moment where I stop being Yui Komori. There are not days when I’m not Orochimaru. There are not days when I’m not Yui. It’s not determined by shifts. There are times when one feeling is a bit stronger than the other, but that’s just the reality of having multiple kintypes.

I am Yui Komori. I am Orochimaru.

... It feels really nice to have my thoughts in order.

#orochimaru tag #yui tag #i hope this doesn't appear in any of the tags????#except my personal ones

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irlpinkiepie · 7 years ago

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a house built on sand, chapter 5

a bnha fic

Dreams are fickle creatures.

Sometimes the most certain can fall apart at a moment’s notice, and sometimes, the most fantastic dreams have a chance of coming true.

Of course, that all depends on the dreamer.

[ao3]

Quick rundown. Breakfast, shower, get dressed. She had timed the train ride a few days before, and the earliest she could afford to leave for a 9:00 start was at 8:10, 8:12 if she ran. Look down. 6:28. That’s plenty of time.

As the dye soaked into her hair, Izuku sunk into her favorite habit. What is the exam going to be like? She knew there was some kind of practical component, so it probably had something to do with talent towards being a hero, but beyond that she was totally lost. Fighting villains was the most obvious choice, but villains didn't exactly operate on a schedule, and that would also technically be illegal since neither she nor any of her compatriots would be licensed heroes. Maybe some kind of quirk test? She sincerely hoped not, but she trusted All Might not to deliberately mislead her into false hopes. Unless he had as much of an idea as she did? She didn't want to think about that possibility.

7:31; hopefully that wouldn't hurt too much. Izuku closed her eyes as she rinsed out her hair in the sink, then opened them to look into the mirror. It wasn't perfect, to be sure; there were some waves of hue, and a couple of places where the roots still shone the same light brown as before, but she figured that would come with practice.

She stared into the bright green eyes of her reflection, and then smiled. She looked just like her mother.

Now, get everything else ready to leave. A jacket would probably be a good idea; Izuku grabbed one out of her closet and slid it on over her tank top. Shoes? A pair of white sneakers lay in a rack by the front door before she grabbed them and jumped into them. ID, railcard, and applicant forms were all set; she was practically bouncing at this point, desperate to hop on the train and not spend a single second more waiting.

So, not seeing any reason to stay, she called out a quick goodbye and dashed out the front door.

The train ride was a blur of expectation. The moment Izuku got on, she rushed straight to the back of the car and sat down in the corner, struggling to stay calm as the suburban scenery faded into cityscape. Unable to keep her mind wholly distracted, she took to scanning the car’s passengers, looking for other kids about her age who might be joining her for the entrance exam. A young girl with long, pointed ears poking out of her blue hair, sitting on the other side of the car; Izuku almost moved to say hi, but before she got the chance, the girl picked up her bag and got off a couple stops into the journey. Probably not, then.

A boy with golden blond hair, sitting by himself, but in a tuxedo and holding a briefcase? Doubtful.

Izuku was both relieved and disappointed to not see Katsuki anywhere on the train. There was something a little nerve-wracking about having to navigate such an important day on her own, but she had heard quite enough of his opinions regarding UA High, and she preferred her current uncertainty and nervousness to the contempt which that familiarity had bred.

That being said, she hoped to have a chance to talk to him after the exam; maybe once the pressure of school had been alleviated, he’d be in less of a sour mood.

When her stop was finally called, Izuku was the first one out of the door. School’s right around the corner. No sense in waiting after coming this far.

The sight that she beheld upon rounding the block and turning to her left was so much glorious than pictures could ever have done justice. Towers of glass rising high above the earth, the morning sun reflecting off the building bright enough she had to shade her eyes. A sparkling concrete wall encircling the premises, trees bursting up from behind its border whose leaves were just beginning to bud. And in the midst of it all, hanging gently over what Izuku could only assume was the front gate, was a plain white banner which read simply, “Exam day!”

A few minutes later, she managed to collect herself and walk through the entrance.

Cars are expensive, sure, and a big responsibility, but was being dropped off by Mom and Dad really necessary? It didn't seem dignified.

He was made for greatness, after all.

The school was bigger than his last, but that didn't hugely concern him. He knew there would be more students than in a local junior high, and besides, the school looked rich enough that some amount of this was just extravagance for the sake of it.

Take a look around, survey the competition. Almost everyone already went to the lobby already, he should probably join them, but who was this girl with green hair, wearing shorts in winter and just staring at everything? She seemed a little familiar …

Probably not important; he probably wouldn't see her again. Time to head inside.

Izuku was thrown from her taking in the scenery by the passing of a face she couldn't help but recognize. Katsuki.

She was glad he was okay, at least, but he didn't even say hi? Was the exam stress getting to him that much? She definitely still had a few more minutes before she had to go inside, so he couldn't have been in a rush…

Wait. The hair, the outfit - maybe he just didn't recognize her. She beamed thinking about that possibility.

Still, the inside of the campus was just as phenomenal as it looked from the outside. Despite the building’s apparently bureaucratic appearance, it was actually put together rather artistically; the glass blocks, when viewed separately, seemed almost as towers of a radiant castle. And the height! She could count up almost a dozen floors standing far away, but from this close all that Izuku could sense was just the sheer scale of the place, dominating everything else around it. Hopefully, at some point, she'd get used to this. If she got in. When she got in.

The pathways, too, seemed remarkably well-kept; Izuku knew this school had been around for half a century, but every single brick looked positively brand-new. Maybe there was someone on staff whose quirk related to repairs? That'd definitely make for a pretty useful hero in an emergency situation although the applicability of that sort of power would probably vary wildly so maybe that's why they would move towards an educational career so that they can more effectively benefit wait that pathway is getting closer really fast uh oh close your eyes--

But despite her panic, Izuku never hit the ground.

After a moment of stunned realization, she opened her eyes, and found her face inches away from the pavement - and staying there. She was flying, or, at least, she was floating. But why?

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry!” came a voice from behind her. “I didn't mean to scare you like that, I just saw you about to trip, and it felt like bad luck incoming! I had to do something. Here, spin around and grab my hand.”

Izuku reached out her left arm and gently pushed against the ground in an attempt to get herself at least a little bit further up. Face no longer pressed towards the path, she found herself being stood over by a girl with warm brown hair, holding out her arm and looking at her expectantly. Reaching out her own hand and grabbing on, Izuku felt herself being pulled weightlessly into a more or less upright position, before suddenly feeling the pull of gravity again as she fell the last couple of inches.

“My quirk is making things weightless,” the girl said, pulling a pink scarf down from her face and tucking it into the collar of her coat. “I know you’re not supposed to use them on people, but I hope you don’t mind too much.”

“O-oh, not at all!” Izuku stuttered in reply, not entirely sure how to react. “Thanks for the help.”

“Of course!” responded the brunette with a smile. “It’s like I said, I’d hate it if someone lost out ‘cause of feeling unlucky. I know it’s a bit silly,” she continued, stretching an arm behind her head, “but it can’t hurt. I’m Ochako, by the way.”

“Izuku.” There was something reassuring about Ochako’s presence, even if she couldn’t figure out what exactly.

“Should we get going? As beautiful as it is outside, it can probably wait until after the exam, don’t you think?” Ochako walked a couple of steps towards the door as she spoke, and then turned back to Izuku, motioning to follow.

She was still unsure of herself, but she didn’t have any doubts about this. Smiling back as best she could, Izuku followed her new friend through the school’s front doors.

“No, it’s actually rarer than you’d think,” Ochako said as the two of them found their way into the auditorium at the end of the hallways and arrow-labeled signs. “I was the only one from my school who applied. It’s like, self-selecting? Most of the people who wouldn’t get in don’t even bother going through the exam. Middle section alright?”

“Sure thing,” responded Izuku, as the two of them moved into the rows and set their sights on a pair of still-empty seats. They weren’t scheduled to start for a few minutes, but the seats were already filling close to the brim. “There seem to be a lot more people here than that, though,” she said gesturing to the room around her.

“Hm? There are a lot of junior high schools in Japan, you know.”

“Oh. Right.” For some reason, the idea that there were kids like her who had traveled across the country to chase the same dream had never occurred to her, but now that it had, her nervousness suddenly escalated far above what it had been all day. She had probably had more training, sure, but she wasn’t even the best in her class, let alone the entire country.

“Are you feeling okay?” Ochako said, and then her voice became static and swirled around her.

There wasn’t a single thing she had done to prepare herself for several hundred students who were all the best in their school, and now she was stuck and there was no way out and the walls and the students pushed closer and closer and a hand gently fell into her lap and she grabbed it as tight as she could and held on until the panic faded and the lights and sounds outside her returned to their sources and she followed the hand she held tight to its origin and looked up at her and smiled and said, simply, “Thank you.”

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright in the exam?” Gone was her previously cheery demeanor, replaced by an expression of worry.

“Yeah, I-I’m sorry.” Stay calm, don’t fret, just focus on what’s best possible. “I don’t really do well with uncertainty, and I was kind of thrown…”

Ochako nodded, a faint smile returning to her face. “Well, if it helps at all, orientation’s just about to start; should be any minute now.” Sure enough, Izuku looked down at her watch and saw the faint glow of an 8:59 screen, which she stared at expectantly waiting for the next change in time.

Just before it had the chance, though, it was interrupted by a hum of speaker static coming from the front of the auditorium, followed by an almost ear-splitting amplified voice echoing through the room which said only the words “EVERYBODY READY?” And with that, the lights dimmed, a projector shone onto the back wall, and a young man dressed in all black leather sauntered on stage, blond hair gelled back to a point.

Present Mic.

UA graduate of ‘38, top 10 in popularity polls for the first five years of his career, billions of yen earned lifetime, and now, it seemed, high school teacher. Honestly, as far as career paths went, Izuku didn’t think that one was so bad. She wasn’t sure how much he really needed a microphone given his quirk, though.

Still, as much time as she had spent with All Might, there was still something amazing about seeing a professional hero standing right in front of her and talking directly to her, especially one whose radio show she still listened to on a nightly basis.

“Welcome, everyone, to the first day of what will hopefully be a long and happy three years of study at UA High School! That is, of course, if you can pass the entrance exam! LET’S GET THINGS STARTED!” The projector, which previously displayed a blank white screen, now had additional lettering: plain black type which read ‘Entrance Exam Details’, and below that, in a smaller font, the words ‘By Hizashi Yamada’.

“So!” Present Mic continued, still excitedly shouting every word. “There is a written exam too, and that’ll be in a few days or so, but there’s nothing EXCITING about that! You kids signed up here ‘cause you wanted to be heroes! So let’s see if you can!”

He threw his arms out and yelled, “CURTAINS PLEASE!” At that, the title card behind him faded, replacing itself with what looked like a… video game screen? Complete with tinny music playing through the speakers.

Well, he seemed excited, even if the rest of the room was silent.

“Your test is gonna be fighting villains! Robot villains! Lots of them!” Pixelated figures materialized on the board, and were those Mario enemies? On second thought, this was clearly going to be weird; Izuku figured it would be better to just accept it. Each of the figures was labeled with a different number, and a similarly-styled Present Mic appeared and started wandering around the virtual city.

“Three types of robots! Each one’s worth a different number of points - try to get as many as you can in ten minutes! Don’t get killed!” Wait, how dangerous was this going to be? No, that was probably just a joke. Maybe. His shouting every word didn’t exactly make the tone of his words clear, as much as it was still a delight to listen to.

“Excuse me, sir!” Another voice rang out from the audience; Izuku was amazed that anyone managed to find room to get a word in edgewise. She looked to find the source of the interruption, and traced it to a boy sitting near the front, standing perfectly straight in his school uniform and raising his hand high in the air. Astonishingly, Present Mic noticed him too, and stopped his speech to respond, “Yes? What’s the matter?”

“You mentioned there being only three types of opponent,” the boy said bluntly, pushing his glasses to his face, “and yet the diagram you provided shows four plus yourself. Is this a problem with your speech, or with the presentation?”

“Worry not!” Present Mic responded before spinning back behind the podium and dramatically stretching out his arms again. “That’s just what I was about to mention! The mid-round game changer! Zero point robot! Just don’t get in its way!”

All in all, this ‘test’ seemed bizarre at best. They were just going to be set loose on a bunch of fake villains? But presumably still dangerous villains, otherwise the test wouldn’t be very useful, but also not too dangerous villains, since she hadn’t heard about any previous children killed by an entrance exam. She turned to Ochako making a confused face, and received only a shrug in response.

“Check your forms for your exam center! Buses leave outside in 20 minutes, so get ready! Break a leg! PLUS ULTRA!” Shouting his final words loud enough to put Izuku’s hair on end, he stood back and bowed as the screen faded to black. Izuku, for her own part, managed a couple enthusiastic claps before realizing that the rest of the room failed to share her sentiment.

The two of them both perused their sheets before finding a small, capital letter ‘B’ in the bottom right corner.

“Well… good luck, I guess,” Izuku said hesitantly. She wasn’t sure how she felt about having people she knew watching her during the exam, even if only indirectly, but she gave a thumbs up regardless.

“Thanks! You too.” Ochako blinked a couple of times before nodding and offering a faint smile alongside her words.

As the two of them filed out of the auditorium along with the rest of the students, neither said another word.

The bus ride was surprisingly short, and Katsuki was nowhere to be seen. Cherish blessings as they come.

This current situation, though, was nothing short of confounding. Izuku really wasn’t expecting to be blown away by architecture twice in one day, but it seemed like the school really had built enclosed cityscapes out in the middle of the countryside, and she could see the peak of a skyscraper rising out above the sheer metal wall in front of her. Seven buses outside before she left probably meant that there were seven of these, and if there was any damage to the interiors, they would have to be rebuilt every single year. Everything she had learned that day shocked her.

Looking around, she saw Ochako again - no longer dressed in winter gear, but instead sporting a light blue jacket and tracksuit. She must have gotten changed before getting on the buses, then - that would explain why she had left and Izuku hadn’t spotted her again until now. It felt wrong to leave the situation between the two of them unresolved, though, and she wanted to make sure her words had been taken sincerely. She only managed a single step in her direction, though, before her path was blocked by the straightened arm of another student.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” the boy stopping her said sternly. Izuku was surprised to see the same boy who had interrupted Present Mic’s speech standing in front of her. At this rate, it was more surprising that Katsuki wasn’t there with her.

“That girl over there is clearly trying to concentrate. It would be extremely inappropriate for you to interfere with your competitors in such a manner, and I ask that you please refrain.”

“I-- uh… okay.” No point in arguing; even in what was presumably a school P.E. uniform, he was still somewhat of a presence. Izuku gently backed up and walked off in a different direction as quickly as she could.

Wanting to avoid thinking about that awkwardness, Izuku decided to take a moment to strategize. While she hadn’t technically done it before, there was nothing about fighting robotic opponents that seemed noticeably different from human opponents with quirks, and she had been taught by the best how to do that. It was just a matter of being resourceful and thinking quickly, and with only three types of robots to contend with, it shouldn’t be tricky to get a feeling of how to defeat them all.

How would points be assigned for collaborative efforts, though? She didn’t really want to take any risks, so she should probably head out on her own and hope not to run into anyone. That being said, she wasn’t on the best of terms with the two students she had actually spoken to already, and not really being sure how much time there was before the exam actually started, trying to collaborate at this point seemed like a fool’s errand. Seeing the other students all standing apart silently in front of the open gate, she doubted anyone would even wait the gate was open.

Did that mean the test had started? No one else seemed to have noticed, and the worst that could happen is that she would be pulled out and have to start with everyone else. Besides, a head start was a tempting offer.

Just as she was about to cross the threshold into the artificial city, she heard the crackle of a loudspeaker, and nearly panicked before she heard its message: the voice of Present Mic angrily shouting, “Well, what are you waiting for? No countdowns in battle!” At that, the people behind her perked up and started running, so Izuku took that as a sign to do the same. Pulling off at the first corner and making sure no one had followed her, she wandered into the city looking for enemies, and it wasn’t long until she found one.

Never had Izuku been more glad to have accidentally left a screwdriver in her pocket. With as many electrical appliances as she had dismantled over the course of her beach training, there was often a temptation to hate its presence, but right now she couldn’t be more grateful.

The android standing in front of her had large shields over its arms, each emblazoned with the numeral “1”. Mutator-type quirk, she thought. Tackle the weak points, manipulate the mutation. Seeing the arms about to come down at her, she dodged out of the way, and then ran behind her opponent and held on tight to its back. A loose plate became looser, and a couple of wires were knocked from their slots, and the robot she was grabbing lost power and fell to the floor.

Izuku sat down for a moment to catch her breath. The moment she had stepped through the gate to the city, she had felt slightly uneasy, and that encounter had amplified that feeling to distress. Not panic, fortunately, but enough to start making her feel sick.

As soon as she could, though, she picked herself back up and kept moving. She wasn’t sure what a winning score was, but something told her that a single point would not suffice.

Walking through the cityscape was an oddly surreal experience. So many of the side alleys and narrow roads reminded her of her own home city - was that deliberate? - but for every familiar doorstep and street corner, there was a pristine concrete wall or row of darkened windows that reminded her that her surroundings were artificial. Given more time to ponder, Izuku would have wandered for days; as it was, though, her observations were minor distractions as she ran by on a quest to defeat more enemies.

When the loudspeaker rang out with a five-minute warning before she had increased her score any further, though, she realized that she was going to have to adopt a different strategy.

Concentrate. The simulation is likely to be accurate. Real villains don’t attack randomly, they attack population centers. Going right to the most open areas would probably mean competition from other students, but the access routes would probably be effective targets, as well as blocking off the other students. Plus, this was just a simulation, but there was something that seemed wrong about attacking villains in places where others could be endangered.

She listened out for the sound of commotion and followed it as best she could, but when another one-point robot crossed her path, panic suffused through her body and overrode her previous ability to fight back. When the metallic arm swung down towards her, she tried desperately to run away, but her legs were frozen in place, and she could only squeeze her eyelids shut and fret.

She wasn ’t entirely happy with how this whole situation played out, but at the halfway things seemed to be looking up. Her quirk was starting to wear her out, though; thankfully, this wasn’t an extended fight, so she could go home and rest afterward. For now, though? All out; there was something so oddly satisfying about the process of tagging the robots, pushing them into the air, and letting them fall to the ground, and she couldn’t help but smile every time she heard a crash behind her. The latest set had brought her up to a clean thirty.

While she had seen other students around, none of them ever tried to mess with her, though she couldn ’t count on that staying true as the number of robots dwindled. She was going to have to act.

A loud whirring noise sounded a couple of streets down; with any luck, she ’d be the first one to it.

Izuku opened her eyes to see the robot still in front of her, swinging wild strokes with its shield arms, not a single one in danger of hitting her. Curious, she stepped forward into their path, and the robot in its turn rolled back so that its attacks were still out of range.

The robots were never going to hurt them. This test was completely safe.

That realization now under her belt, she took to disabling the second robot in the same manner as the first, and it quickly fell down to the ground with a clatter. Not having to worry about staying safe, this test would become a cinch. Izuku rushed off towards the city center, the few remaining enemies in her path tumbling harmlessly as she passed them and deactivated them.

People talk all the time about missing the forest for the trees, but no one ever mentions missing the collapsing building for the giant robot knocking it down. Funny, that.

While she had managed to avoid most of the debris, the impact from what remained was enough to knock the wind out of her, and she doubted she ’d be able to clear all of it with her quirk right away. Still, she felt like she had a decent lead, and once the exam was over they’d come and rescue her.

As much as she wanted to focus on silver linings, she was still drowning in steel.

Izuku’s forward progress was halted by a sudden, loud whirring off in the distance. She hadn’t actually seen any three-point robots still intact, and the idea of a burst of extra points was too appealing to pass up on, even if it was some distance away. She made a dash for the sound’s origin, then stopped cold when a couple of blocks later, she found it.

Stay calm. Focus. Don’t worry. This was probably the zero point robot. If it was anything like the other robots, it wasn’t allowed to actually hurt any of the students.

Mixed in with the sea of debris in front of her was a familiar light blue.

It wouldn’t hurt them unless it didn’t know that they were there.

Her view to the outside was limited, but there was nothing comforting about seeing a sea of people running from the place where she was fixed. Baffling, though, was seeing this and noticing a single person heading towards her.

Only one thing to do. Dig as fast as you can. Her life depends on it.

The roaring motors grew louder by the second, but it felt as though the weight on her shoulders was lifting.

Reaching out a hand to Ochako’s now excavated body, she saw the hand in front of her and grabbed on, but no matter how hard she pulled, the rest of the debris still weighed down on her body, and she felt her body lighten as her control over her power began to waver and Izuku was floating.

“I’ll save you,” she whispered, and then pressed off the ground and flew into the air.

A rising, followed by a crashing.

The joint at the robot’s neck was crucially weak. A single, impulsive punch sent it flying backwards, as she did the same from the now lifeless robot.

She smiled, and then closed her eyes.

In the rush of the moment, she failed to notice that the pull of gravity had returned to her body.

A falling, followed by a landing.

Izuku and Ochako were both barely, luckily, alive.

#talking always yes lots of reading #ok to rebagel #bnha #tv: my hero academia #adherence to typical form? never heard of her #ahbos

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itspatsy · 7 years ago

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the girl who could be you

Summary: Trish has met a few superheroes, but she's never had one break into her apartment and sit in the dark waiting for her. Not even Jessica was that rude. (or: Trish Walker and Natasha Romanoff have something in common, and they talk about it without actually talking about it.)

Notes: Inspired by this awesome idea by @allofthefeelings.

Read on AO3.

Trish scrambled through the doors of her building, relieved to escape the downpour. Shaking her head and wiping water out of her eyes, she cursed herself for forgetting an umbrella. She exchanged a silent nod with the sleepy-eyed doorman, glad to see him actually awake for once but knowing it wouldn't last long. She envied his ability to sleep anywhere. She could barely manage it in her own bed. She stepped onto the elevator, looking down at her watch to make sure it survived the torrent. It was after nine, not an unusual time for her to be getting home these days.

Until recently, she’d spent as minimal time at the office as possible. But Jessica had still been around then. Had needed Trish there with her. At least, that’s what she’d thought at the time. When Jessica walked back into her life after disappearing for months, traumatized and guilt-ridden and plagued by nightmares at every moment, Trish had worried about leaving her alone for too long. What if she tried to hurt herself? Who would pull her out of her flashbacks? The only reason she went to work at all was because Jessica insisted.

It was slow going, over half a year, but Jess started talking to her about what happened, her snark was coming back in full force, and she’d even cracked a few smiles. It seemed like the therapy was making a difference, that things were getting better. But then Jessica was gone again, and Trish was left wondering if it was her fault. If she’d been too smothering and controlling, or if she hadn't been attentive enough. If she should have given her more space, or if she'd given her too much space. She didn't know, and she couldn't ask Jessica, because Jessica left her no way to find her or get in contact with her.

And it hurt. It hurt to even think about, so she did what she always did when it felt like her chest had permanently constricted and she would never get enough air in her lungs again. She directed all of her emotional energy into external things. Her job provided the perfect source of distraction, and even if there were about a million studies proving how overwork and exhaustion led to an early grave, it was still far healthier than the means of diversion she used when she was younger. So she worked until she was too tired to think, until she felt nothing.

Well, almost nothing. As she opened the door and padded into her darkened apartment, a chill ran up her spine. Something seemed... off. The door had been locked, there was no sign of forced entry, and nothing seemed out of place. There was no reason for her to feel on edge, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t alone.

She quietly stepped through the hallway, staying close to the wall and grabbing a vase off the table as she crept towards the living room. She couldn't help but feel silly skulking around her own apartment in the dark. She was tired, her mind was playing tricks on her. That’s all it was. And yet, in a world where aliens invaded New York, Nazis infiltrated government security agencies, and her best friend was mind controlled by a rapist sociopath for months, maybe it didn’t hurt to be overly cautious.

Trish carefully peeked around the corner into the living room and held back a gasp. There was still enough light to make out a figure seated on the couch. Thin. Leather-clad. Long-haired. Her heart stopped in her chest. Could it be?

Before she could decide her next move, a feminine voice that definitely did not belong to Jessica called out, “I know you’re there, Ms. Walker. Don’t be—”

Before the intruder could finish her sentence, Trish was chucking the vase at her head. Her aim was true, but the woman dodged, and the porcelain smashed against the wall. Trish leapt to the kitchen island, grabbing for a knife and yelling, “Who are you?! What do you wan—”

The light suddenly turned on, and Trish stopped mid-sentence as she came face to face with her mysterious visitor. It was… the Black Widow? Natasha Romanoff. The SHIELD agent that fought in the Battle of New York, the whistleblower that revealed HYDRA infiltration to the public, the Avenger. That was... holy shit, that was awesome, but also what the hell?

With her heart in her throat and brain short-circuiting in confusion, she could only feel a surge of relief that she picked up the ugly vase. Then she gave a quick prayer her mascara wasn't running from the rain. Priorities. She was rarely at a loss for words, but her usually expansive grasp of the English language failed her now, and all she managed was a dumbfounded, “Ummmm… huh?” So much for Trish Talk.

The Black Widow raised a calming hand and seemed utterly unperturbed at having a knife pointed at her. Of course, she’d obviously been in far more dicey situations, and Trish figured a blonde lady moonlighting as a drowned cat probably didn’t cut the most intimidating of figures. Still, she was mildly offended. She could be fearsome and formidable, dammit.

“I apologize for the scare, Ms. Walker. This probably seems very strange to you,” Agent Romanoff said, hand still raised and clearly in soothe-the-terrified-civilian mode.

It was a little condescending, and Trish didn’t think it was particularly fair, seeing as how Romanoff was the one that decided to take a page out of the serial killer handbook and introduce herself by breaking in and lying in wait. But Trish returned the knife to the counter and with as much prim politeness as she could muster (which was a lot, she was used to putting on a show and smiling graciously through discomfort and alarm) responded, “You could say that, yes.”

“Let me help you clean up.” The agent gestured to the broken shards on the floor.

“No, that’s okay. I’ll get it later,” Trish said, waving her off. The superspy standing in her living room was a far more pressing issue. Was it... could it have anything to do with Jessica? She didn't know how Agent Romanoff would have any connection to Jessica, but she couldn't stop the fear from gripping at her chest. Why else would a superhero want to talk to her?

She took a breathe and tried to sound as causal as possible. “I’d rather know what brings the Black Widow to a radio talk show host’s apartment. I doubt you want to set up an interview, not that I would object. But if that is why you’re here, I have to admit, this is a bit of an extreme way to get my attention...” she trailed off, leaving room for an explanation, but the other woman just stared at her, unblinking. It was kind of unnerving.

Romanoff tilted her head to the side slightly, considering, expression inscrutable. After a long moment, she finally said, “Your personal security system leaves a lot to be desired.”

Huh.. okay. That wasn’t really an answer. She was relieved this didn't appear to have anything to do with Jessica, but that just made the whole thing weirder. Trish stared back silently, taking a closer look at the woman in front of her. She looked and talked like the Black Widow she’d seen in the news. The hair was different, but still that brilliant red. Almost the same as the damn Patsy wig, actually. But it looked right on Natasha Romanoff in a way it never looked on Trish. So did the dark leather jacket and fitted jeans and tall boots. She looked good, but her eyes were weary and worn, clear even through her air of cool professionalism. Knowing what she did about the things Agent Romanoff had gone through in the past few years, it made sense. It felt real.

Granted, the technology was available for someone to disguise themselves as another person, but Trish couldn’t imagine anyone with access to that tech would use it to play mind games with a former child star and make themselves look like the Black Widow to do it, no less. On the other hand, was that really more far-fetched a possibility than the actual Black Widow breaking into her apartment to give her security tips? She crossed her arms over her chest, unsure what to think. “So… you broke in to test my security?”

Agent Romanoff apparently decided to continue not answering questions and instead said, “I have a few recommendations. Surveillance, reinforced door, safe room, bulletproof windows, and the like. Check your personal email.”

Trish raised an eyebrow. “You have my personal email?”

She wasn’t naive enough to be surprised someone could access her private email, especially not a spy. Not when regular people did the same sort of thing all the time. Privacy and celebrity didn’t exactly go hand in hand, and Trish understood the enthusiasm of fans. Most of them were harmless, if occasionally overwhelming, but a few crossed the line into creepy invasiveness. Sometimes they’d managed to access personal information: addresses, phone numbers. It’s how she’d ended up with a couple of stalkers.

Hell, her own mother might as well have been a stalker. Ever since she and Jess had left, Dorothy Walker always seemed to know the details of her daughter’s life. Where she was living, her phone number, her work schedule, her favorite coffee shop, her jogging route, every goddamn thing. Of course, Trish blocked her number to cut down on unwanted contact, but Dorothy would just hide her caller ID or use another phone or even change her own number to circumvent it. Trish had gotten wise and rarely answered unknown calls but she was still left with drunken, rambling messages, sometimes remorseful, sometimes berating, but always manipulative and designed to make her feel like shit. A few times, Dorothy had even called the station to pry details about her life out of her co-workers. She was equally a menace when it came to email.

But all of that wasn’t half as bad as when she would orchestrate “accidental” run ins in public, which forced Trish to remain polite lest she draw attention. The last time she’d done it was just a few weeks ago, at one of Trish's favorite delis, and somehow Dorothy just knew. She knew that Jessica wasn’t living at the apartment anymore, and she knew it hurt Trish, so she wouldn't shut up about it. Her mom loved to pick at her scabs, but she loved fresh blood even more. It was almost enough to make Trish change her routine and pick new places to go, but it was her life now, and she’d be damned if she was going to let her mother drive her away from the things she liked. She was often tempted to get an actual restraining order, instead of a Jessica enforced one, but it didn’t seem worth the headlines and publicity. Being in the spotlight, even in a negative way, gave her mother power and satisfaction.

But this was the Black Widow. She wasn’t a fan or a stalker or a controlling mother. Why would she bother with all of this? Before Trish could ask as much, Agent Romanoff continued, “I also included contact information for some reliable personal trainers to start you out.”

"Start me out on what exactly?” Trish asked, a little irritation creeping into her voice. This conversation was becoming increasingly opaque, and she was running out of patience. She just wanted to know what the hell was going on.

Romanoff stared at her as if the answer was obvious. “Self-defense lessons.”

Oh, of course. She should have known. “Okay...?” she intoned, clearly expecting more of an explanation but already figuring she wasn't going to get one.

"You want to be able to protect yourself, right?" Agent Romanoff asked.

And yeah, there was no escaping the cryptic non-answers. But this time what she'd said roiled something deep-seated in Trish. She'd phrased it as a question, but it felt like a statement: you want to protect yourself. It was truer than anything else in Trish's life. Was she just that easy to read? Did she have her victimhood tattooed across her forehead? She considered Agent Romanoff again, in confusion and weariness and, for all her current frustration with the woman, a kind of giddy awe.

Everyone seemed to have an opinion about the Black Widow. She was in the news more often than not. In defiance of the usual 24-hour news cycle, talking heads and pundits were still dissecting her actions in DC months later. In general, governments of the world viewed her with suspicion, and the United States in particular was incensed at the national security risks and damage to international relations her transparency had wrought. At worst, a few countries considered her a criminal and wanted her extradited and put on trial for past actions. Public opinion was polarized, and there didn’t seem to be much middle ground. Many considered her a hero, but as many, if not more, considered her a dangerous loose cannon with unknown loyalties, someone that could not be trusted and should be wearing an orange jumpsuit instead of black leather.

Trish had made her view of the woman clear on her show, after the Battle of New York and once again after the HYDRA Uprising. Natasha Romanoff was a hero as far as she was concerned. The infodump revealed her past for the world to see, at least in part, and it was... awful. The things she had done, yes, but also the things that had been done to her. The incredible violence and abuse, the brainwashing and mental manipulation. It was the kind of thing pulled from the pages of a dystopian horror novel. And still, despite everything in her past, Natalia Alianovna Romanova made a choice to become Natasha Romanoff. She made a choice to be good and do good, to protect people, even when it came at great cost to herself. Trish admired and respected her for that.

The Black Widow was a cipher in so many ways, more so now that she was inexplicably standing in her living room, but Trish had always felt like she could understand her on some distant level. She knew how hard it was to take control after having none and how good and terrifying it felt to finally be able to make your own choices. She understood the need for reinvention, the power that came with making a new name, and the liberation of forging a new identity separate from the things other people forced on you. It took strength and courage to become a new person, to be someone that fought for good, especially if you grew up with no real guidance of what exactly constituted right and wrong.

Of course, Trish knew she could just be projecting her own issues. Scratch that, she definitely was. She didn’t know the woman. Knew nothing about her but for some publicly available records. It was easy for people to think they knew who you were just because they saw you on TV or read your Wikipedia article. She didn’t want to do to Agent Romanoff what people had done to Trish Walker her entire life.

But what Trish knew with certainty was that Natasha Romanoff did the things Trish wished she could do. Despite being a regular human, she held her own with super-powered heroes. She protected people. She saved the world. Whatever darkness was in her past, she was a goddamn superhero in her own right.

Trish Walker wasn’t a superhero. She couldn’t save the world. She couldn’t protect anyone. Not herself. Not even the person she loved the most.

Trish could only stand on the sidelines as her best friend vanished from her life, knowing something was wrong, so completely wrong, but unable to do anything about it. She could only call again and again and leave message after message of panicky where are yous and are you okays. She could only sit with the phone at her ear, baffled and angry and heartbroken, as Jessica told her she had a boyfriend she loved, and she was finally happy, truly happy, so fuck off and mind your own business for once in your life, christ, you’re just like your mom.

When Jessica turned up at her door again, shaking and empty and shattered to pieces, all Trish could offer was shelter and expensive therapists and it’s not your fault. And when she came home one evening to find a note saying I have to work this out on my own and don’t try to find me, she could only hyperventilate on the floor of her kitchen, tears rolling down her cheeks and fingers itching for pills or whiskey or anything that would let her lose herself in a way she hadn’t been lost in years, in a way she wasn’t supposed to still want because she was better. She could only go on with her life, pretending everything was fine and hoping Jessica would walk back through the door one day.

Trish Walker couldn’t help anyone because she was just a useless talk radio host, not a hero. Not like Jessica.

But a different hero was standing in her living room where Jessica once stood, telling her how she could be a little bit of a hero too, if for no one else but herself. Maybe she couldn't protect everyone, couldn't protect Jessica, but she could at least learn to protect herself. It was something.

"Yes,” Trish said, fervently, feeling a shiver in her spine. She could have told herself it was because she was still soaked to the bone, but she knew it was hunger, the kind of desperate craving she'd only ever felt as an addict. “I want to be able to protect myself.” She didn't just want it, she needed it. She needed it so much her body and blood ached for it.

But she still didn't understand, and a question settled in her throat again. Why? “I just… this is all a little hard to comprehend. You don’t know me, but you break into my apartment to give me recommendations on security systems and self-defense lessons? Why are you doing this? It’s… it’s pretty strange, and you must have more important things to do."

A shadow crossed Romanoff's eyes. Gone was the steady, polished indifference. She looked… lost and young and tired and so much like Jessica the night she’d turned up at the door and collapsed into her arms. So much like… like what she once saw in her own eyes when she looked in the mirror, what she still sometimes saw when she let her guard down and stopped pretending it was all okay. It quickly passed, however, a moment so fleeting Trish almost thought she’d imagined it. But even though she wasn't a spy, when it came to acting, she was as much a professional as Romanoff.

Placid expression restored, Agent Romanoff said, "I used to watch your show."

Trish’s eyes widened in surprise. That… what? That was not what she was expecting. And she didn't see what it had to do with anything. Couldn’t the agent just give her a straightforward answer for once? Why did she have to be so enigmatic? Secretive superspy or not, Romanoff broke into her apartment and decided to offer up unsolicited advice, and she owed Trish a proper explanation for it.

What she did offer up didn’t even make sense. When and how and why had the Black Widow watched It’s Patsy? They were about the same age, but from what was publicly available about her background, the Black Widow started young, trained in spywork by an underground government organization in Russia. There was no way the grown Romanoff spent her free time sat on her ass watching old American tween programming, as hilarious a visual as it was.

Though… maybe it wasn’t completely outlandish to imagine foreign spies being exposed to American culture for their training. They had to learn about it somehow. But using It’s Patsy? Of all things? That was just… it couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible. It was ridiculous. Insane.

It was insane, but now that her brain had latched on to the idea, it wouldn't let go. It did make a twisted kind of sense. If you were using little girls to do your dirty work, you’d want them to seem like regular little girls, right? To blend in so they could lie and kill with more ease? So why wouldn’t they watch the same thing little American girls watched? Why wouldn’t they learn to act like the perfect All-American girl next door Patsy Walker, squeaky clean and sunshine bright with her green eyes and red hair and utterly mundane problems?

Of course, Patsy Walker wasn’t real. There was no actual little girl like her, American or Russian or otherwise. Trying to be Patsy, it had nearly ruined her life, but she’d never imagined it doing the same to other girls, certainly not in this manner. It made her sick to think of it being used to literally brainwash children, to mold them into better killers. But it made her even sicker to realize that she… that she almost felt less alone thinking that damn show might've made another girl suffer as much as she did. God, what was wrong with her? Was she really so selfish and warped?

Agent Romanoff half smiled, a little corner of her lip tilting up. There was no joy in it, just sadness, and that felt like the closest thing to a confirmation of her wild impossible theory she would ever get. Romanoff added in a slightly strained voice, “I hated it."

Trish almost laughed. "Yeah?” She smiled back, and it was probably an ugly thing, twisted and bitter. Her mother would've jabbed her in the ribs for a smile like that. But her mother wasn't here, and maybe, just maybe it was all right to be ugly and sick and wrong sometimes. To be imperfect in the ways Patsy was never allowed to be. “Me too."

They stood for a minute in companionable silence, both lost in their own thoughts. Two women who had nothing and everything in common stopping long enough for a shared ghost to catch up with them. But neither were the type to linger for long, and it was time to bury Patsy Walker again.

Trish cleared her throat. “So, these self-defense lessons you recommend? How long will it take before I’m flipping people around with my thighs?”

Romanoff chuckled, throaty and full. “For you?” She looked her up and down appraisingly, raising an eyebrow. Then her lips twisted into a smirk, and she winked. “Not long.”

Oh. The Black Widow was flirting with her. This night was a rollercoaster of emotions. Before she could really process that, Romanoff began making motions to leave. Trish didn't want to keep her, but she knew she couldn't let a secret agent walk away without doing one last thing.

"Hey, before you go, I'd like to ask you a favor," she said. "I have a friend. She went through something... horrible, and I was helping her, but then she left, just went off the radar. Could you... I'd like to find out where she is. I just want to know if she's okay.”

It would've been easier to be angry at Jessica. It would've distracted from the worry, the loneliness, the ache in her heart. She wasn't used to being alone anymore, not when it had been them against the world for so long, and she felt like she'd been abandoned, and it wasn't fair, for either of them. But she couldn't be mad at Jess, never truly and not over something like this. She only wished she could do for Jessica what Jessica had done for her, the way she'd looked at a broken, abused, drug addled mess of a girl and saw something worth loving anyway. Jessica had saved her. She wanted to return the favor. Return the love.

But it wasn't for Trish to decide what Jessica needed now. If distance is what it took for her to heal, then Trish would give it to her. Even so, she just couldn't go on knowing nothing. God, maybe it did make her like her mother to be that way, but it came from a place of caring, and that did make a difference. Jess was strong, and she could take care of herself, but she wasn't invincible. All Trish needed to know was if she was alive and as okay as she could be. She could find a way to breathe with that.

Agent Romanoff nodded in understanding. “I’d be happy to assist, Ms. Walker. Send me her details.”

Trish smiled. There'd been enough self-pitying introspection tonight. Jessica wasn't another ghost, and it was time to stop treating her like one. “Thank you, Agent Romanoff. And please, call me Trish.” She stuck out a hand. Romanoff took it, and Trish could feel calluses and scars across the otherwise soft skin. It was a small hand, but strong.

“I'll call you Trish if you call me Natasha. You know, I’m actually not an agent anymore. Anyway, you should change out of those clothes, and I really need to...” she trailed off, knocking her head to the side.

Trish nodded, letting go of her hand. “Sure, of course. Innocents to protect and vast government conspiracies to uncover, right?”

Natasha smiled, a real one this time. It was lovely. “Something like that.”

As Trish made a move toward the door, Natasha instead walked towards the balcony. Trish quickly noticed, rolling her eyes. “Should’ve known superheroes don’t use doors,” she muttered under her breath, changing course after Natasha. It had stopped raining, but the brick was still slick, and Trish eyed it wearily. It would be just her luck for the Black Widow to die in a freak accident on her terrace.

Strolling out into the open air, Natasha glanced back with a chuckle and mischief in her eyes. “You know, Trish, I hope this is the start of a beautiful friendship. Because I—”

“No.” Trish shook her head, eyes widening in horrified realization. “Don’t do it. Don’t—”

“—really wanna be your friend,” Natasha finished.

“Goddammit,” Trish grumbled. “Not you too.”

Natasha was practically grinning at this point, utterly satisfied with herself. It was annoying and endearing at the same time. She’d been so professional and distant at first, and then so sad, it was a joy to see her lighter, happier... telling unacceptably obnoxious jokes. It was also a comfort. If someone that went through the things Natasha went through could still be like this, it gave her hope that Jessica would make it to that place one day too.

Trish sighed in exasperation, but grinned back. “Usually making that joke is a one way ticket to my shit list, though I suppose I could make an exception for my biggest fan. But if I hear one joke about me not being a natural redhead...” she trailed off, waving a fist threateningly.

She wouldn’t say it out loud, at least not in the words of that ridiculous catchphrase, but she really wanted to be Natasha’s friend too.

#trish walker #natasha romanoff #black widow #marvel's jessica jones #mcu #it's patsy #jessica is absolutely there in spirit #so is dorothy *barf*#the red room using it's patsy headcanon is genius #and i couldn't resist having my fave mcu ladies interact #(did i mention my main blog is practically a black widow fan blog?)#relationship: the stuff that'll last forever #fic

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