#in the dream they were stuck in a large cage inside a house | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cinnaminsvga · 5 years ago

Text

A Boy Like You | Yoongi

→ summary: for whenever you are feeling low, always remember that there is a boy you know who would lift the sky for you.

{or alternatively: Min Yoongi loves you, though he never says it. He’s always been a firm believer in that actions speak louder than any words ever could.}

→ genre: coworker!au, f2l, fluff → warnings: an overabundance of shy!yoongi to the point where you’ll want to squish his cheeks; kinda ooc but it is what it is → words: 11.5K → a/n: whaddup kids it’s ya girl... back from the dead after months of not writing shit, and what’s this owo... it’s a fluff fic?? miracles do happen... anyway i wrote this bc i just thot “man, wouldn’t it be super epic if i wrote a super self-indulgent fic where yoongi fulfills every single one of my deepest desires?” well... here is THIS!! pls feel free to scream into a pillow bc i certainly did!! enjoy!!

There is a boy you know who likes to show his kindness quietly. It would go something like this:

The air is thick with static; your hair stands up on end: a warning. The scent of raindrops hitting hot pavement graces your nostrils as a waterfall drops from the sky. You see the sea of heads begin to disappear under a canopy of multi-colored umbrellas. You, the lone ranger, rush back into the building from whence you came, dragging puddles and annoyance with you.

You should have anticipated it, should have thought to check the weather app before scrolling through dull social media posts when you left your house that morning. Instead, your fingers are left cold and umbrella-less.

You tilt your head upwards, watching as gallon upon gallon fell from the sky in an endless cycle. The watch on your wrist reads 5 PM, but the sky says it is 9 PM. The dark, swirling mass of clouds above you will continue on its thunderous parade, pausing for no one, especially not for you.

Your work bag is practically weightless, devoid of anything that might protect you from the onslaught of rain. The only thing inside is a small wallet that holds nothing more than dust and a loose promise of a paycheck. There is no way you can call a taxi like this, and the nearest bus stop is at least two blocks away. You are starting to think that your childhood dreams of becoming a mermaid hadn’t been so ridiculous after all.

Then comes the hand of God. It touches your shoulder gently, hesitantly. You turn around to face a stranger, a boy with shaggy black hair and pale moonlight skin. It is not God, but he comes close.

In his other hand is your salvation wrapped in Kumamon print nylon. It is proffered to you with a silent nod, his gaze fixed somewhere behind you as he waits for you to take it. The tips of his ears begin to redden the longer it takes for you to respond. Eventually, your brain connects with your muscles as you robotically pluck the umbrella from his grasp, a stuttered “thanks” leaving your lips.

He nods stiffly once more, removing his palm from your shoulder as though he had been burned. He shuffles for a moment, mouth opening and closing as he struggles to find the words to say. You wait, patience never waning for the strange boy that you have come to know as your salvation.

He doesn’t find the words after all. You aren’t too offended by his silence, but he appears to be mortified. And so, he leaves just as quickly as he had appeared, like a whirlwind dressed in an oversized blazer flapping behind him like wings. He runs through the rain without another thought, an arm raised above his head in a futile attempt to avoid getting wet.

You try calling out to him, wanting to thank him once more and maybe to ask how you can return his umbrella, but he is long gone. A speck of black dashing through the gray.

You clutch the umbrella closer to you, a feeling of something new growing inside of you. It is too small to call anything, but it is warm.

x x x x x

Umbrella boy has a name, and he happens to work on the same floor as you. You know this because he is standing right in front of you in all his bespectacled glory.

He ducks out of view the moment your eyes meet his. There is a stack of folders in his arms, and he bows his head until his nose touches manila. It’s too late––he knows you caught him staring. He scurries behind walls of filing cabinets and desk cubicles, desperate to get back to his desk where he hopes you’ll never find him.

The office floor is large, but it is not large enough to hide in. It takes only a few minutes until you find him hunched over his desk, every inch of space taken by enough towers of paper to cover a forest. It is no wonder that you never encountered your mysterious umbrella boy; he does a wonderful job of blending in.

Your eyes trail his form, not out of any perverse intent, but just out of curiosity. You never would have guessed from his unassuming and meek nature, but the boy is devastatingly beautiful. The devil is in the details: you admire the soft slope of his nose to the adorable pout of his lips. His eyelids are charmingly mismatched and his cheeks are begging to be pinched. It takes a year’s worth of self-restraint to keep your hands at your sides, if only so you don’t scare him away before you can even introduce yourself.

(You can already imagine your HR department contacting you about nonconsensual manhandling… You admit that you tend to get overzealous with your affection, especially when confronted with cute things. This boy would definitely need to watch out for you if he knows what’s best for him.)

((Also note to self: Stop having these psychopathic conversations with yourself. Being stuck inside the cage which is your brain is torture enough, so let’s not encourage it to get worse.))

There is a lanyard laced around his neck, the gaudy orange color of your company’s logo emblazoned across the thin material. And just out of your line of sight, you catch a glimpse of his ID. His name is––

“Y-Y/N?” He stutters out–no–he squeaks. Ah, so he’s noticed you. The folder in his hand slips out of his grasp, an avalanche of white tumbling all over his lap. He curses loudly, frantically sweeping away the mess under his desk, as if he could somehow magically make them disappear if he just kicked them hard enough. Unfortunately, the papers stay stubbornly tangible, and he is left with a halo of accounting reports around his workspace as a result.

“Are you… umm…” You hesitate with your words, fearing that any sudden movement on your part might cause umbrella boy to combust on the spot. “Do you need help… picking those up?”

“I–Well, no–Yes, but–” His sentences are stilted, his brain struggling to catch up with his tongue. He clamps his mouth shut, then shakes his head like he’s trying to reboot himself. Finally, after a few more deep breaths, he goes, “No. I’m fine. Thank you for offering.” He says that, but he appears awfully content with staring holes into the keyboard of his laptop when he is speaking to you though.

“Still… I’m terribly sorry for startling you,” you say, lips tugging downwards into a frown. You should have guessed he was skittish from how he had acted yesterday, but it’s quite a surprise to see one man so… disastrous, for lack of a better term. It’s awfully cute. “I just wanted to properly introduce myself and thank you for lending me your umbrella yesterday, but it seems like you already knew who I was.”

His face does a weird thing then and there. It almost appears like he was caught in a time loop, like someone was manually reversing and replaying his facial expressions like a video. It takes a few minutes for his little stroke to settle down, but even then, his cheeks remain a rosy pink. “I–I just… remembered your name during the company retreat the other month. I’m not weird or anything, I swear!”

“Well luckily, I was never going to accuse you of being weird anyway!” You laugh, trying to ease the perpetual look of anxiety on his face. However, it only seems to worsen his nerves with how quickly his skin starts to redden. “In fact, I should be apologizing for not remembering your name, Mister..?”

“Min Yoongi,” he replies, pausing for a second too long. He must have realized his delay because he coughs awkwardly into his forearm, averting his gaze away from you in a futile attempt to become nothing more than an abstract thought.

He must be equipped with some sort of superpower, because you’re starting to feel his secondhand embarrassment flood through you like a tsunami. Are you that difficult to converse with? Does he want to be left alone so badly that he’s trying to subtlely tell you to fuck off?

You’re about to start apologizing and scurry off back to your desk in barely concealed mortification when Yoongi clears his throat, his gaze fixed somewhere to your right. Whatever caught his attention must have been revolutionary with how large his eyes are, although last you remember is that the wall behind you is the same dull jailcell gray that you have come to know and hate.

“I just… I’m sorry if I’m acting odd right now. I just wasn’t expecting you to come to my cubicle and I would’ve… I don’t know, tidied up? If I knew you were coming,” he mutters, propping his glasses back up when they start sliding down his nose. They make their slow descent back down immediately after, forever on an endless cycle of up and down his face.

“You don’t have to clean up just for me! I’m not your manager or anything,” you say, surveying the absolute disaster zone that is his workspace. For his benefit, you sure hope that he has a map of his desk and filing cabinets, as it would have been a miracle otherwise if he memorized where anything was located in his personal office sty. “Though, it would be nice if you could see the bottom of your desk every once in a while.”

To your immense surprise, Yoongi lets out a resounding laugh at your quip. Though Yoongi isn’t a mute by any means, it isn’t like he spoke with much volume either. You hadn’t even thought your joke was funny enough to deserve a strained Caucasian™️ smile, so you appreciate that he had considered that you were even slightly funny. You love the pleasant tinkling of his laughter, so genuinely joyous that you can’t help but want to make a fool of yourself just so you can hear it again and again.

When Yoongi stops, the familiar reddish hue that has made a home on his cheeks resurfaces, though it’s less from embarrassment now. His shoulders are more relaxed, and he doesn’t look like he wants to crawl out of his skin as much. He still has eyes averted away from you, however. “Sorry. I don’t know why I laughed too hard at that. I’m normally not this weird… I think it’s just the nerves.”

You cock your head to the side. “Nerves? From what?”

Yoongi freezes, mouth gaping open slightly. “I, umm…” He coughs into his white button-up sleeve, pupils shaking as he formulates a response. “Just from… work. Yeah, I just have a lot of paperwork to do this week and I’ve been, er, having difficulty relaxing.”

Yoongi visibly breathes a sigh of relief when you accept his flimsy excuse, not really lingering on the validity of his statement. “Oh, sure! Don’t overwork yourself too much, okay?” you say, smiling sweetly back at him. He stares, wide-eyed, not really sure how to go on with his life after he’d been blasted by the full force of your grin.

God, you hope you remembered to use a toothpick during lunch. Was there spinach in your teeth? Oh fuck.

“Gah,” he intones, his brain not fully cooperating with his mouth just yet. If you were any more socially inept, you’d probably be doing the same. Eventually, he clears his throat and tries again. “Uh. Yes. I’ll try to do better next time.”

Feeling like you’ve overstayed your visit, you decide that it might be best for you to leave him be before either of you do or say anything more awkward and stupid. Before you turn to leave however, you decide to extend your hand forward, hoping to erase all the previous awkwardness between the both of you and hopefully start afresh. Even though you’ve only just met, you can’t help but feel drawn to him, wanting to see him again and somehow gain his friendship. “Hey, no sweat. It was really nice meeting you, Yoongi-ssi.”

“Just Yoongi is fine,” he says, almost like an afterthought. He’s so busy staring at your proffered hand that you are afraid that you might have offended him unknowingly or something. Does he think you don’t wash your hands? Given by the fact that your office’s manager refuses to restock the soap dispensers at the washrooms, that isn’t that much of a stretch. Or maybe he was weirded out by your random handshake? Have handshakes become antiquated these days? Are the kids no longer doing it? Are you supposed to do those awful brohugs like the fresh-out-of-college interns do in the breakroom? Oh God, does Yoongi think you’re old?!

While you were in the midst of your mental breakdown, you soon begin to realize why Yoongi had contemplated returning your handshake for so long. Instead of taking your hand immediately, Yoongi rubs his own two palms together first, much like how one would when warming their hands in front of a fire. He takes care to blow on them slightly before grasping your hand firmly in his, finally bestowing you with your much awaited handshake.

“Umm..?” You stare at your intertwined hands, a little confused about the previous series of events that just happened five seconds ago. Yoongi, in all his adorable and flustered glory, releases your hand much too quickly like he’s been shocked, most likely realizing (belatedly) that what he had done might not be as clear to an observer as it is to himself.

“Oh, I – I’m so sorry about that, again.” Yoongi stutters, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “It’s just – my hands are really cold so I was trying to warm them up before I held your hands. I’m – I only just realized how odd that must have looked. Sorry.”

A rush of endearment and warmth surges through you as you behold this high strung boy, your heart flooded with a mix of emotions that make you feel gooey and blissful in one perfect package. No, this boy is the perfect package, all soft edges and blushy cheeks. It’s going to take a mountain and a room of vengeful deities to stop you from walking past his desk to catch a glimpse of him at this rate.

Oh God, you’re whipped already and it’s only been a few minutes since you said hello. He warmed his hand for you for heaven’s sake! Surely your enthusiasm can be excused in this one instance.

“That’s, uhh…” Now it seems that it is your turn to be at a loss of words, your throat clogged with a clump of newly discovered feelings that you don’t have enough time to sort through at the moment. The hamster running circles inside your brain has long since ground to a halt, and if Yoongi is going to keep staring at you with those charming cat eyes for any longer, you aren’t sure you’ll be able to convince the little vermin inside your skull to puppet your body again. “That’s… really sweet. Thank you.”

Thank you? Really, Y/N?

“It’s, uh, no problem. Really.” And with that, Yoongi presents to you his most deadly smile to date: blinding whites coupled his prominent pink gums, with his cheeks stretched like proofed dough that make his dark eyes disappear. Is there a pencil wedged inside your chest cavity, or were you just spontaneously having a heart attack? It’s hard to say; all you know is that your organs have turned to slush, and you make a mental note to send the imminent hospital bill to a certain Min Yoongi.

Cause of hemorrhage: being too fucking cute.

With your daily dose of embarrassment fulfilled, you turn to leave with short stilted steps, as if you have to force yourself away from him like those stubborn souvenir shop magnets that never come off the fridge. “I guess I’ll see you around?” you say more like a question, unsure if he’ll even want to ever see you after that disaster of an interaction. Kim Namjoon from Accounting would be entirely too delighted if he ever found out that he wasn’t the most awkward human being in the office.

“Sure? I’ll just be here. As always,” Yoongi replies kindly, same gummy grin on his face, albeit a little more hesitant. “It was nice speaking to you, Y/N.”

When he returns his attention to his workspace, it serves as a signal to you that you really should be going. Before you leave, you take note of the subtle red tint of his ears that reaches the back of his neck, the gentle tremor of his hands as he reorganizes the files that he had previously dropped. It makes you feel odd for relishing in the fact that you hadn’t been the only one feeling the tension between the two of you, though that doesn’t help lessen the confusion that soon follows anyway.

Why are you so drawn to him? You have never felt so strongly for someone this quickly, and frankly it sort of frightened you. You’re too afraid to confront that blossoming curiosity inside of you. No, it’s much too soon for that. For now, however…

“Oh shit. I totally forgot to give him back his umbrella,” you curse yourself once you return to your desk. The smiling face of Kumamon looks at you knowingly, as if this had been planned all along.

Well. Now you have an excuse to see him again tomorrow, at least.

x x x x x

There is a boy you know who likes to show his tenderness quietly. It would go something like this:

Company dinners shouldn’t feel like as much as a punishment as it does, but that’s just how social gatherings with semi-professional coworkers are like. No one here really wants to be there, but the carefully worded e-mail sent to the entire company clearly suggests that this was more of a “go to the party or risk getting fired” type of deal than anything remotely enjoyable. As much as free food and booze are often harbingers of a good time, it hardly makes any difference when your inebriated boss spends the entire time chatting you up in front of the presence of a dozen or so indifferent associates.

“Oh, Y/N! Good job securing that deal with Mister Park the other day. It’s all thanks to my valuable tutelage, is it not?” your manager guffaws, slapping your back with misplaced camaraderie. He leaves his warm, sweaty palm there, feeling it slide an inch lower than you were comfortable with anyone being. The smell of cheap wine on his breath is making you feel nauseous, and the tacky black and white tiled flooring isn’t doing anything to lessen the incoming migraine.

“Right,” you say with a tight-lipped smile, unable to say anything else lest you lose your job over something silly like establishing boundaries. It’s no wonder that the number of female employees on your floor has significantly dropped over the years, especially with rumors attaching themselves like maggots all over your stupid manager’s name. You wouldn’t be surprised if his stomach exploded ala Alien (1979) style with how much bullshit resides in his body and soul.

You’ve long since given up on anyone saving you, not when everyone was either too busy taking advantage of the free food or too scared to confront your shitty boss. You resign to your fate, ready to scrub yourself clean with a brick once you get home in a futile attempt to rid yourself of the feeling of his hands on you.

That is, until someone clears their throat from behind you.

Salvation comes to you wrapped in a crisp white button-up, thick-rimmed glasses, and cat-like eyes. You almost want to start breaking into Gregorian chant just then to fully express your gratitude to the deities of above for sending an angel in your time of tribulation.

“Excuse me,” the (welcome) intruder says, voice quiet but clear even amidst the cacophonous music and chatter. Min Yoongi steps forward until he is to your right, and you don’t miss the way his shoulder “accidentally” bumps your manager hard enough for him to drop his hand from your back. When Yoongi smiles at your manager, it is all teeth and no mirth, his eyes carefully blank.

Thankfully, your manager isn’t quite as fortunate in his brains department as he is in his stomach. “Oh, Yoongi! It is so nice to finally see you attend one of our social functions. You are enjoying yourself, I hope?” your manager asks, guffawing loudly despite no joke being said. You never did quite understand how some men think they are the most hilarious thing to ever exist since clowns, though you suppose your manager was only missing the red nose to complete the look.

“Thrilled, Mister Lee. Absolutely thrilled,” Yoongi says in a dead monotone voice. You can’t help but giggle at his sarcasm, and Yoongi points a wicked grin back at you before returning to his neutral and passive “work” face.

The sarcasm flies over your managers head like you expected, though you can hardly blame the alcohol for his lack of cognizance. You wouldn’t be half surprised if you knocked lightly on his head, only to hear a resounding echo following thereafter.

“I have never seen you at any of our parties before, Yoongi. What’s with the sudden change of heart?” your manager asks.

“Sir, I’ve attended every single social gathering since I was hired,” Yoongi says plainly, his composure never faltering. He must have better control than you, because you’re sure you would’ve barely held yourself back from smacking your manager had it been you. Though in fairness, you aren’t sure if you’ve ever noticed Yoongi at any of the other parties before this one either.

“Oh really? Well then, you mustn’t have said hello before then!” your manager laughs, patting Yoongi on the shoulder. “Always so enigmatic, our dear Yoongi! Well, keep up the good work.” When your manager turns his attention to speak to another one of your poor coworkers, Yoongi visibly gags from behind your manager’s back, grimacing as he pats away all traces of that foul man’s hand germs away from his dress shirt.

“Gross. Now my sleeve is damp,” he mutters, just audible enough so that only you could hear. You laugh out loud at that, nodding in understanding.

“Same here. There’s probably a gross sweaty handprint on my back now,” you say, wincing when you do feel a noticeable damp spot near the small of your back. “Ugh, what a pig.”

“Tell me about it,” Yoongi shakes his head, making a move to get away from your awful manager. He gestures for you to follow him, and you are more than happy to oblige.

“Thanks for saving me, by the way,” you add, keeping in step with him. He leads you out of the disorienting ballroom, though he doesn’t head towards the exit like you had expected. He appears to know the building much more than you do, given by how assuredly he walks. Either that, or he could be leading you to a deadend, but confidently.

“No problem. You honestly looked like you were about to punt him across the room, though I doubt anyone would be opposed to that magnificent spectacle,” Yoongi jokes, same mischievous grin from before decorating his face. He is so different from the taciturn man you had met two weeks ago, back when he had half-hidden behind his desk like an animal being cornered. Though, that might not be the best analogy to think of, as it only painted you as some sort of predator who came after meek and soft-looking men. Which you aren’t. Hopefully.

“Oh, I would’ve done more than just that, so really he should be thanking you for saving him,” you snort, and Yoongi chuckles lightly in response. Like before, his laughter is just as pleasant as you remember. Your greedy heart yearns to elicit the same sound from him once more, for as many times as you can muster before the night ends.

You had been so immersed in trying to keep up with his quick strides that you don’t notice where exactly he has taken you. The two of you haven’t gone too far away from the ballroom before he stops right in front of a metal double door, the neon green exit sign about it glowing conspicuously in the otherwise dimly lit corridor. He pushes it open, allowing the cool evening air to blow across you and your hand-me-down dress.

“Are we… at the balcony?” you ask, though the view that greets you is answer enough. How Yoongi could have known where the balcony is, you can’t say for certain. But any sort of question dies on your lips when you see how beautiful the skyline is: the stars and city lights twinkling indiscriminately, the sound of nightlife and traffic sounding loud despite the streets being so far away, the smell of ozone signalling an oncoming storm.

This, of course, is what you imagine the view to be like. You know, if the ever reliable Seoul smog wasn’t there to obstruct any sort of magical, romantic view that you should have been privy to.

“Oh damn. I forgot the smog forecast today was especially bad,” Yoongi groans from beside you, quickly shuffling through his pant pockets for a face mask. He procurs two black masks, still in their plastic packaging, and hands one of them to you. “Jesus. Sorry about this. Didn’t expect the smog to be so bad… We can just go back inside, if you want?”

Then, you are reminded of your manager, who is basically pollution incarnate with how terrible his breath is. So, you accept Yoongi’s proffered mask and promptly put it on. “Yeah, no thanks,” you say, voice muffled slightly by the fabric. The implication of your acceptance makes Yoongi grin cheekily back at you (or so you think, guessing by how his eyes crinkle cutely above his mask.)

Now properly equipped to not inhale disgusting air matter into your lungs, you step out farther across the balcony, enjoying the way the cool night breeze feels against your alcohol flushed face. (Though, if you were being honest, the heat on your cheeks has less to do with the meager flute of champagne you had earlier and more to do with the company you currently find yourself with.)

“I fucking hate these company dinners,” you whine a little bit too petulantly, complete with the jutted lip of a child who has been forced to wait as her mother engages in an eternity long conversation with an acquaintance. You lean against the railings near the edge of the building, watching idly as Yoongi does the same. “Don’t you think that if they wanted us to get ‘closer’ with one another, they’d first want to address the fact that some of our coworkers happen to be pigs dressed in white collared shirts?”

Yoongi snorts at that, his right hand immediately coming up to his mouth to silence the unflattering sound. Not that it wasn’t completely charming to you, but you do enjoy the slight abashment that blooms across his face shortly thereafter. “Sorry, didn’t mean to laugh like that. But, I do agree with you… I can’t say that anyone in our department is especially fond of that Habsburg motherfucker.”

Maybe it was the little bit of alcohol in your system, or perhaps it was the sudden rush of realizing that Yoongi is strangely attractive when he swears, but the laugh that exits your mouth sounds a touch too crazed for your liking. Either that, or perhaps you’re finally dying from the pollution.

Luckily for the both of you, it seems that Yoongi likes your weird laugh just as much as you like his. He tries to hide a smile before continuing, “Like, come on! I’m sorry for saying that because attacks on physical appearance is always a low blow, but why the fuck does that dude look like he’s been compressed and flattened on Photoshop? He’s got perpetual flat-face syndrome. You could - you could land a damn plane on his face or some shit.”

The cork inside of your bursts, and you let out the most ungodly guffaw in your life. You don’t even have the time to be embarrassed by how loud your howls are, not when every word he says hits the mark a little bit too close to home. There’s nothing quite as pleasing than sharing mutual dislike for the same person, and it fills you with the utmost glee that Yoongi is no exception to that rule.

“Oh god… You’re right. You are absolutely right. I seriously can’t believe anyone can put up with him. I mean, the damned bastard couldn’t even remember my name until two weeks ago,” you say, shaking your head in disgust. The first few times he had forgotten, you had been gracious enough to laugh away his mistakes as little more than that: mistakes. But when five years pass and peanuts-for-a-brain still hasn’t deemed that remembering your name to be as important as when the “next big Game™” is, then it’s easy to understand the depth of your resentment towards your manager.

“Are you for real?” Yoongi asks, brows raised in shock. “How could anyone ever forget you – I mean, shit, uh,” Yoongi coughs suddenly, red-faced. You tilt your head in confusion, waiting for him to finish. He’s still kind of spluttering when he continues, “What I meant to say is… H-how could anyone forget their employees name after working here for so long?”

You shrug your shoulders. “I have no idea. Honestly, I think he’s trying to purposefully forget everything I tell him. One time, he had asked me what plans I had for Christmas, and I mentioned to him how I was going to be visiting my parents back home, and he has the gall to ask what country I’m from. Like???” Your face contorts as if you had eaten an entire lemon, so wracked with disbelief that Yoongi can see the hypothetical question marks floating above your head. “Bitch, do I look foreign to that bastard? I’ve lived here all my life!”

Yoongi hums, thoughtful. “Your parents live just an hour away from here, right?”

“I… Yeah, they do,” you reply. You eye Yoongi curiously, watching his all-too familiar flush resurfacing on his neck once more. “Wait… How do you know that?”

“You… You were talking about them, once. To Seulgi? Yea, you were, um…” Yoongi coughs unassuredly, rubbing the back of his neck. A nervous tick of his, you suppose. “It was a year ago? Something about visiting them during the weekend… Not that I was eavesdropping on purpose! I would never, er, do that…”

You don’t even register his embarrassment as you are mostly shell shocked that he had even remembered that little tidbit from over a year ago. Hell, you didn’t even remember going to your parent’s house until he mentioned it. “No it’s fine, I get it. I’m just surprised that you even bothered to remember that.”

Now it’s his turn to look at you strangely. “Of course I remember. Why wouldn’t I?”

You stare at him in disbelief. Fluttering of wings begin to erupt in your stomach, but you hardly have the peace of mind to fully grasp why you were even feeling so flustered in the first place. It was just that he had said it so… matter-of-fact, like there was no possible way he could’ve forgotten even if he tried. It was kind of disconcerting, but flattering all the same. But more importantly--

“Wait, you’ve been working at the company since last year? How have I never seen you before this month?!”

“Oh,” Yoongi coughs out a laugh, scratching the end of his nose. He turns his gaze away, looking anywhere but you. “I was just, umm… Really quiet? I don’t really talk to anyone unless I need to. I’m more of a listener.”

“Oh my God, now I feel even more terrible for not knowing your name! I must look like an egotistic bitch to you,” you despair lowly, cupping your face into your hands in shame. You feel another pair of cold hands clasp your wrists, and you watch in shock as he pulls your palms away with a determined expression.

“What? Of course not. You are definitely not an egotistic bitch, Y/N. In fact, you’re the complete opposite,” Yoongi whispers, so quiet that you might have imagined it. He grasps your hands tightly, like he’s desperate for you to believe him.

You stammer in embarrassment, staring wide-eyed at Yoongi as you try to regrasp your comprehension skills. It’s especially hard to concentrate with how close Yoongi is to you, the latter unaware of his own proximity. He had stepped closer towards you to hold your hand, and normally you hated it when people touched you without permission, but somehow… This was alright.

(Unbeknownst to you, this will not be the first time that Yoongi becomes your secret little exception. It’s only the first of many.)

“I-I don’t really know what to say?” Your gaze is locked on his firm grip on your hands, the only thing flitting through your mind: damn, this dude’s hands really are fucking freezing!

It takes another few seconds for Yoongi to calm down, and you know when it happens because the realization of what he had said makes itself apparent on his expression. He turns beet red in a second, stepping away from you with his arms flying off of you like those inflatable tube men outside car dealerships.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he says, taking two steps away from you. You almost take two steps forward to keep the distance closer, but you have a feeling that he would keep walking away from you until you both inevitably fall off the balcony, so you smartly choose to stay away (even if it pains you to do so). You wait for his breathing to settle, all the while still reeling from his blatant confession just moments ago.

Could you even consider it a confession? Were you being delulu, or is there some sort of connection that you and Yoongi were both feeling?

“Yoongi, it’s fine! Really,” you smile wryly, raising your hands towards him open-faced, much like how you would do when approaching an agitated animal. Like a nervous kitty, you think privately to yourself. “I’m really flattered that you feel so… strongly?”

“I’m… I’m really not like this normally. Honest,” Yoongi says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I… I never… do that. Whatever that was. Umm.”

Because you’re a freak of nature and enjoy exacerbating awkward social interactions, you decide to respond to him like this: “No worries, I’m flattered, honest! But hey, maybe next time you try to give me a compliment, you could look me in the eye?” You know, like an asshole. Who points out people’s social anxieties like that? You bitch!

On cue, Yoongi’s cheeks bloom into cherry blossoms once more. “I––I, I didn’t mean to––uh!” he stammers.

“No, no, I’m sorry for even saying that!” You apologize profusely, bowing so low that he could probably see the top of your spine. “I didn’t mean to tease you like that! I’m sorry! That was seriously out of line!”

What a pair the two of you were… Like two trains crashing into each other at mach speed, continuously and eternally. A constant and ongoing catastrophe!

(The little gremlin living inside your brain is knocking at your empty skull, whispering deviously, “But doesn’t that make the two of you the perfect pair?”)

When he doesn’t respond back immediately, you have to wrack up enough courage to look back at him. You gasp audibly when you do, and you have to forcibly grip the insides of your bicep to keep yourself from squealing in pure anguish.

Because there, right before your very eyes, is a blushing Min Yoongi looking you straight in the eye with his face squished between his hands, as if he’s forcibly keeping his head locked in place. His pupils are noticeably shaking and his brows are furrowed in concentration, but he’s looking at you. Like you asked.

He’s… He’s too…

“Okay, let me try this again.” Yoongi takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what may be the most embarrassing thing he has ever done in his life. “Y… You’re a great person, Y/N. I hope you know that,” he whispers, voice trailing off by the end of his sentence.

He’s dry heaving like he’s just finished a marathon, but he hasn’t taken his eyes off of you. You’re worried if he even remembers how to blink with how intensely he’s staring you down, but you can’t bring yourself to ask him when your heart is quite literally beating out of your chest like a cartoon character from the 80’s.

“I…” You’re at a loss of words. If Min Yoongi can capture you like this with just a look, then think of how much more powerful he would be if he just learned how to use it. You’re slipping into real dangerous waters, and you don’t know if you’re just a frog in boiling water or if this is where you were meant to be all along.

“Yoongi, I didn’t mean for you to… force yourself like that, really…”

The moment breaks, finally, when Yoongi begins to cry.

“Shit!” you both exclaim, but for two different reasons. “Are you okay? Oh my god!” you reach out for him, not even thinking when you cup his cheeks in your hands. He gently pushes you away with one hand, while the other goes to scrub at his tears.

“Yes, I’m fine! A piece of dust got caught in my eye and I was too slow to blink it away,” he explains, still wiping at his cheeks. He pulls his mask down to his chin, pouting cutely at you. “Sorry. I’m not used to looking people in the eye yet. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Oh my god. At this point, you’d be surprised if your heart was located anywhere near your body. You were running purely on autopilot, so enamored by the boy in front of you that you could almost faint. He was entirely too unreal, unbelievably so. Perhaps, if you tried hard enough, you’d be able to find your heart again, and you know the first place where you’d look.

“Give it back,” you mumble, and Yoongi tilts his head at you in confusion.

“Sorry? Did you say something?”

“Nothing,” you reply, reaching over him and snapping his mask back on his face. You laugh as he splutters in surprise, floundering about overdramatically as if the elastic on the mask had done any damage to him at all. “Oh, stop it. You’re just being silly now.”

“Hey, I have delicate skin! You never know,” he jokes, but stops when you give him an unimpressed look.

“Sorry,” he laughs again. “And well, since I keep saying sorry today, and you look like you could use a little warming up, do you wanna leave this place and get some coffee? My treat.”

And really, who were you to say no to that?

And really, who were you to say no to Min Yoongi?

x x x x x

There is a boy you know who likes to show his thoughtfulness quietly. It would go something like this:

A steaming hot coffee cup from the nearby cafe manifests itself on your desk one Monday morning. In your sleep-deprived haze, you had originally failed to realize that there was a hand connected to that cup and that it hadn’t actually just materialized from thin air like you had thought. After much blinking and staring, you crane your head up to see Jesus standing in front of you, his glasses still fogged from the outside chill.

“I got you a drink. I hope I remembered your order right,” Yoongi says in lieu of a greeting, a small smile gracing his lips as he watches you lethargically reach over for the cup to lift the lid open. His grin widens when he sees your eyes light up at the sight of little marshmallows bobbing up and down in your hot chocolate, bits of whipped cream already melting away from the heat. When you take a sip, you breathe a content sigh, your eyelids fluttering shut.

“Yoongi, I’m going to kiss your feet right now and you can’t stop me,” you say, upper lip lined with cream and sugar. Yoongi’s hand twitches by his side, but he doesn’t move.

“Even if I have toe fungus?”

“Especially if you have toe fungus,” you say, downing as much hot chocolate down your throat without choking and barfing all over him.

From the rim of your cup, you can see that Yoongi still has his parka on, his signature black mask pulled down his chin indicating that he’s only just arrived at the office. It makes your heart jump a little, knowing that he went straight to you first before anyone else that day.

“I still don’t understand how you hate coffee. Like, I don’t think I’d be able to be conversing with you right now if I didn’t have caffeine running through my veins,” he says, staring at you(r lips) as you chew a marshmallow thoughtfully.

You want to tell him that Yoongi doesn’t talk a lot anyway in the first place, though you have begun to notice that he’s becoming more talkative the more you hang out with him. However, you aren’t quite sure if you’re imagining it, but it seems like Yoongi’s change in personality doesn’t really apply when he’s with anyone else. On the days where you’d pass by his cubicle on the way to the water coolers, he’d still have his usual stoic expression on his face as he goes through his paperwork with the grace of a robot. When he’s with you, however…

“Says the guy who’s started drinking frappes after I suggested them to you. Don’t lie to me, Min Yoongi.” You’re giggling softly, and you can tell Yoongi’s seams are already breaking. Pink gums and straight teeth are seconds away from peaking through. You wink cheekily at him. “You’re just as sweet as your personality is.”

“Stop, that’s so embarrassing!” he exclaims, hiding behind his hands. He’s already smiling. “I’m not as sweet as you think! I’m a mean guy!”

“Yoongi, you literally just bought me hot chocolate with marshmallows because you remembered what I like. I don’t think there’s a mean bone in your body,” you retort, rolling your eyes at the prominent pout on his face.

“Not true! I stole an extra coupon booklet when I was at the grocery store the other day.”

“Ooooh, I do love a bad boy,” you say, but the two of you are already laughing hysterically. “Seriously, thanks. I really needed this today.”

“Dang, bad morning already?” he winces, having noticed the purple moons under your eyes when he had approached you. He didn’t want to mention it without you bringing it up first, but he had been worried about you since last Friday when you had left the workplace with a slammed door.

“Try bad weekend. Mr. Lee has been pushing my buttons for months now, but I seriously didn’t think he thought it was a challenge. He’s been giving me shitty filing jobs to complete like I’m some overworked intern!”

Yoongi cocks his head, confused. “Aren’t you, like… In the advertising department? Why would he make you file things?”

“Exactly!” You’re all but roaring now, but Yoongi can’t help smirking at the stray dollop of whipped cream that had somehow found its way on your nose. He pulls his sleeve over his wrist, swiping it away with the fabric as nonchalantly as possible (which is to say, he’s as red as a spanked ass when he does it.)

You don’t even notice his actions, still deep in the abyss of your rage. “And also! My shitty phone ran out of storage space the other day so I’ve had to delete all the songs on my library and I can’t find any good playlists on Spotify to help me dissociate on the train!”

“Wow, that’s a mood,” Yoongi says, chuckling. He clears his throat, an idea popping into his head. He turns bashful all of a sudden, gaze diverting upwards as he musters the courage to say, “I-I mean, I think I can help you with that last problem, if you want…”

You stop huffing and puffing long enough to appear intrigued. “Oh? Are you gonna send me a playlist?”

Yoongi splutters. “I mean! If you want it, I do have some songs that I like listening to.”

Yoongi squeaks when you smile at that, radiant and all-encompassing. He wonders how he’s not dead right now.

“Oh god, that would be great actually! Text me the link, would you?” you say, already making grabby hands for his phone. “Here, lemme put my phone number in your phone.”

Yoongi almost drops his phone as he takes it out of his pocket, staring in awe as he watches you type in your number into his phone. He has to keep himself from outright howling when he sees you place a sunflower emoji beside your name. How fitting, he thinks to himself.

When you return the phone back to him, he immediately texts you the link to his playlist. You have to keep yourself from screaming to the heavens when you see the very Yoongi-esque title, “Songs for the Sleepless,” complete with the grainy-noir-film-type playlist art to complete the look. It was just so… personal, so Yoongi, and it’s making you clench organs that you didn’t know were clenchable.

You whistle at the sheer number of songs on the playlist, with the first song being—“Didn’t peg you as a Lana Del Rey fan,” you pipe up, scrolling through his playlist with acute interest. “Kendrick Lamar and Epik High, I understand. But Lana?”

To his credit, the playlist did seem like it had a narrative of sorts, despite the eclectic range of artists and genres. You only recognize maybe ten of the songs from his five hundred song playlist, and you’re very curious to see what type of songs he connects to.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” he shrugs his shoulders, though a little bit embarrassed. “Lana Del Rey could sing my obituary and I’d jump out of my grave in an instant.”

“Bit morbid but okay,” you laugh, finger ready to close your music player app when you catch sight of a song with an artist you didn’t expect to see. You reach over to tug on his sleeve, your sly smile already causing Yoongi to break out in hives. “Hey… I didn’t know you shared your name with a singer, unless, of course…”

Yoongi doesn’t even let you finish your sentence when he yelps in surprise, snatching your phone out of your grip as his eyes bug out of his sockets. His ears redden, words tumbling out of his mouth like a waterfall as he tries to explain himself despite your raucous giggling.

“I––You weren’t supposed to––I forgot about! That was––I was just––Ugh,” he groans despairingly, smacking himself in the forehead with your phone. You’re still giggling madly, enjoying the spectacle before you as Yoongi’s ears are practically shooting out steam.

“You’re so cute.” It slips out of your mouth with such ease that you almost don’t notice saying it at all; you’re still smiling dreamily at Yoongi as he stares at you in shock, mouth still agape from his earlier rambling. You gasp loudly when your brain cells finally catch up, but by then it’s already too late. Now, the two of you were a matching pair, with your fire engine red ears standing at attention.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I just said that,” you mutter into your hands. You wish the earth would swallow you whole right now.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you just said that,” Yoongi wails beside you, but you don’t notice the small satisfied smile he’s sporting on his reddened face. “Y-You can’t just say things and not expect me to…”

You look up, wondering why he’d suddenly trailed off at the end. “Expect you to what?”

Yoongi, once again, defies the laws of the universe by somehow turning even redder than humanly possible. “N-nothing. Ignore me. Let’s just admit we’re both embarrassing and carry on, can we?”

“Sure,” you agree, nodding enthusiastically. “But, does that mean I can listen to your songs, Mister Min ‘I’m-a-superstar-singer-in-my-spare-time’ Yoongi?”

“I’m not a superstar! I just record songs in my free time, that’s all,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Says the guy who apparently raps as a hobby! Seriously, I can tell I’m gonna love it already.”

His gaze is turned upwards, cheeks puffed up in embarrassment. He looks like he wants to say something else, however, and you wait for him as he tries to gather the courage to say what else is on his mind. “S-say, I was wondering… Since I’m already here and all, do you want to maybe go out wi—”

“Yo! Hyung!”

A deep voice from across the office floor snaps the two of you out of your little bubble in an instant. It doesn’t take a genius to tell who it is, not when there’s only one person in the entire company who would dare wear a sushi-print tie to work at one of the most lucrative companies in the country.

Kim Namjoon hobbles over to your little cubicle space in all his sushi-print tie glory, knocking over a coworker’s potted plant in the process. Between you and Yoongi, you had been more surprised by Namjoon’s sudden exclamation, mostly because you’d never been particularly close with the eccentric man. Yoongi probably can’t say the same since he had briefly mentioned that he and Namjoon go way back, though you’re starting to have some doubts about that due to the dirty glare Yoongi was currently pointing at the sentient noodles-for-legs.

Namjoon waves cheerily at you before cutting to the chase as he envelops Yoongi in a not-too-gentle hug. “Hyung! I’ve been looking for you. You weren’t at your desk this morning so I was wondering where you’d wandered off, but of course I’d find you here at Y/N’s de––”

Yoongi promptly stomps on Namjoon’s feet, causing the younger to yelp out in pain. “Namjoon. I told you I’d talk to you later.” Yoongi smiles sweetly, but you can see the aura of danger radiating off of him in waves. “Emphasis on later.”

Namjoon pouts petulantly, but he doesn’t look all that offended. “I was just gonna remind you to ask Y/N if she wanted to join us for lunch la––OUCH! WILL YOU STOP STEPPING ON MY FEET!”

Yoongi appears unbothered, not even looking back at Namjoon’s shouts of betrayal. All the while, he still has his gaze trained on you, never wavering for one second.

“Please ignore my colleague. He can a bit… Unnecessarily loud,” Yoongi says, accompanied by Namjoon’s splutters of indignation.

“Umm?? I’m right here?? Your actual best friend?? Geez!” Namjoon huffs, looking at the both of you incredulously. You just shrug your shoulders, completely dumbfounded by the last five minutes of human interaction.

“As Namjoon was saying before we were so rudely interrupted… I was going to ask if you wanted to have lunch with me? Namjoon can join too, but only if he behaves,” Yoongi jokes, smirking at Namjoon’s ireful glares.

You giggle quietly at the unlikely pair, amused beyond belief at this new side of Yoongi that you hadn’t been aware of. So this is how he is with his friends… Cocky Yoongi is definitely someone you wouldn’t mind talking to occasionally, you admit.

“Sure, I’d love to. Just let me finish all this filing crap for Mr. Lee, then I’ll head over to your desk at around 12?” If you work at a breakneck pace, then you could probably finish sooner if you didn’t let anything else distract you. “Oh! And I should probably return your umbrella before you leave. I keep forgetting to give it back to you.”

“No worries,” Yoongi says. “You should keep the umbrella. I’ve got a spare anyway.”

Namjoon’s head whips toward Yoongi at that, staring at him skeptically. “Dude. Ain’t that your favorite Kumamon umbrella though? Didn’t you almost murder me that one time I forgot it at the McDonald’s last mo––WILL YOU STOP STEPPING ON MY FEET! I’M GONNA GET FLATFOOT SYNDROME!”

“Not my problem,” Yoongi replies, pinching Namjoon’s nose for good measure. He turns to you, waving goodbye. “See you in a few?”

You stretch your back, psyching yourself up to get back to work. “Right. I’ll text you when I’m done okay? See you at 12-ish!”

The boys make their leave, bickering all the while. You catch wind of a bit of their conversation as they turn the corner, their voices echoing down the hall.

“Hey, I noticed that you were looking Y/N in the eye when you were speaking. Why don’t you ever look me in the eye when we talk!”

Yoongi snorts, flipping him off. “It’s because you’re not as nice to look at. Simple as that.”

In your seat, you smile secretly to yourself, butterflies erupting in your chest. Filled with newly found fervor, you chip away at the pile of work on your desk until it starts to vanish from view.

Before you know it, you’re off to see Yoongi once more.

x x x x x

There is a boy you know who likes to show his vulnerability quietly. It would go something like this:

x x x x x

There is a boy you know who likes to show his love quietly. It would go something like this:

Your day begins with a phone call: a warning. Your boss tells you to come into work as soon as possible, not a note of enthusiasm or friendliness in his tone. He ends the call just as abruptly as it had come, the silence following soon after deafening your ears. Your heart races marathons in your chest, and your brain goes to the worst place it can go.

Your hands are sweating gallons upon gallons as you shrug your coat on, fumbling with your keys as you struggle to place them in your pocket. For a brief moment, you think about calling Yoongi for moral support, but think better of it. You don’t want to bother anyone, especially not him.

You, the lone ranger, walk out of your apartment and into the murky urban outdoors, the first pitter-patters of rain making their descent the moment your foot meets the pavement. You don’t have quite the energy to go back inside to grab your umbrella, not when you’re unsure if you’ll be courageous enough to leave your bedroom once more if you did.

You’d always been a coward, a soft-hearted fool. Content with shouldering the consequences of your actions without another word: a sufferer in silence. For the past few weeks, you thought you might have changed. You’d been smiling a lot more, laughing a lot more. Your cheeks were often more red than any other color these days, and it was all thanks to a boy you know.

He was shy, but brave. Quiet, but talkative. Mysterious, but vulnerable.

He made you realize that there was no need to settle for one side of a coin, not when you could have both. The longer you stuck around him, the stronger your desire was to become… more.

You wanted to be open; you wanted to be known. You wanted to be able to ask for what you want, and never feel the crushing sense of guilt that usually came afterwards. You wanted to be unapologetic, wanted to keep your hands open, waiting for good things to come your way. To never cower in the face of a gift being handed to you. You wanted to have all that life has to offer––

(Him. Him. Him.)

But there is something pitiful about being unable to keep your own promises. The embarrassment of returning to the state where you once were, of turning meek at the first sign of adversity. The dreams of a happier life drifts away from you like mist under the morning sun, and the pressing weight of the world once again makes its home on your shoulders.

And so, you do not cry when your boss tells you to pack up your things within the hour.

You do not cry when you cut your finger on the corner of your desk that had never been replaced during your five-year stay at this company.

You do not cry when one of your potted plants smash to the floor when you try to carry too many things at once.

You do not cry when co-workers you’d only barely spoken to come over to your desk with showers of condolences, as if you’d already died.

You do not cry when Kim Namjoon walks over to you, quietly bending down to help you carry your boxes down to the lobby.

And when all is said and done, you most especially do not cry when Min Yoongi runs to you with his lungs burning in his chest, glasses still fogged up from the morning cold outside. His hair is in disarray and his shirt is on backwards, as if he’d jumped out of bed the moment he knew something was wrong. When he skids to a halt right in front of you, the pain etched on his face is as plain as day.

Wordlessly, he takes the last box out of your hands, placing his car keys on top when he can’t hold onto them both. His eyes flit towards your clenched fists for a second, but looks away the moment you notice. Instead, he walks out to the elevator, and you follow soon after.

You do not cry when Min Yoongi helps you load his car with your things. You do not cry when he takes a first-aid kit out of his glovebox and puts a band-aid on your finger. You do not cry when he offers to pass by the local home depot to pick up a new plant when he notices yours is gone. You do not cry when he doesn’t treat you like your life has ended.

(But you feel it. Pricking along your eyes like a dam about to break. He is doing this to you. He’s making you feel again, and it fucking hurts.)

And so, he drives you home.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Yoongi starts after a while, tapping a rhythm away on his steering wheel as he waits for the morning rush traffic to subside. He glances at you from the corner of his eye, worried when you don’t respond. You keep your head pressed against the cool car window, staring blankly at the gray skyline.

“I… I hope you don’t mind if I play you something. Just… Just listen to it, okay?”

You don’t see him, but you hear his fingers switch their tapping to his phone as he unlocks it, searching for the song he wants you to hear. It takes a moment or two for him to find it, soft curses tumbling from his lips as he goes through his Google Drive for the unfinished draft that he hadn’t meant to show you until it was complete, but well––

You were always an exception to him, weren’t you?

The first notes come creeping up from behind you, and it reminds you of the way Yoongi would speak to you. All soft whispers and gummy smiles, like he’s restraining himself. Slowly but surely, the music grows louder, more confident with its sound. You can picture Yoongi standing upright, hand outstretched towards you as he asks you to follow him.

The song is unfamiliar, but there’s something about it that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand at attention. You’re trying to go through your memories, sorting through the hundreds of songs that Yoongi has made you listen to but none of them seem to ring a bell. You’re still trying to figure out if you’d heard this before when the lyrics finally start.

“Lost in the sea of my regrets, you became my polaris.”

Yoongi’s voice comes from the radio speaker, jolting you from your seat. Your spine straightens, and you stare bullets at Yoongi’s phone as the song continues to play. When you look towards him, Yoongi’s face is a statue; the only thing giving away the fact that he was with you at all was the steady rise and fall of his chest.

“The shadows, which had been my haven, no longer feel as good as they once did. You, my light, have changed all of that.”

You gasp, and Yoongi’s grip on the steering wheel tightens. It seems like the two of you stop moving at that moment, neither of you daring to breathe. Even the outside traffic sounds muted compared to the sound of your hearts hammering inside your chests.

“I’ve long since forgotten to pray, but I will remember for you. I only dream of happiness for you, my morning light, my northern star. And I’d give it all up for you.”

Yoongi notices your tears fall before you even do; he’s quick to fluster, scrambling through his car side door for a tissue to hand to you, but he stops the moment he feels your hand fist the elbow of his sleeve. He turns to look at you, all blotchy and tear-stained, but beautiful all the same. And even through your tears, you smile just as radiantly as when he had first seen you.

“Thank you,” you mouth, fingers trembling as you fight to keep more tears from falling, but nothing can stop a dam from breaking. Not when you’re sitting beside the hurricane who broke it in the first place; it was the boy with feelings that never did quite fit in his body the way other people’s did.

Luckily, they fit right in with you.

When the song comes to the end, you’re sniffling up a storm, but you still haven’t let go of him. When you’re only a few minutes away from your apartment, Yoongi parks a little bit far off from your doorstep, so you have to walk the rest of the way home. But you’re still unwilling to let go, not yet.

Gently, Yoongi pries your hand away from his sleeve and you’re about to protest, but the words die on your lips the moment they form when Yoongi rubs his hands along the side of his slacks before placing them in yours. His hands are still cold, but comforting all the same.

“Let me walk you home?” he whispers.

You nod. Of course, you want to say. But he knows what you mean, anyway.

When he goes to unpack your things from the trunk, you shake your head, stopping him from moving any further. “I… I don’t feel like sorting through those things right now. Is it fine with you if I just… Go home for now? Please?” Your brain feels like lead in your skull after all the bottled up tears had finally escaped from years of constant pressure, and you don’t think you’re quite ready to go through all those emotions again. You feel deflated, but better. He always makes you feel better.

Yoongi closes the trunk, locking his car before stretching out his hands for you. You stare at the proffered hand for a moment.

“Oh, right.” Yoongi goes to rub his hands to warm them, but you stop him once more in his ministrations. He looks at you, confused, as you grab his hand from him. You rub circles into his palm, staring at the ground in embarrassment.

“You’re always warming your hands for me… So this time, I’ll warm them for you, okay?”

Yoongi doesn’t say anything in response to that. Instead, he tugs you along towards the sidewalk and keeps you close to him. As he walks with you, you notice the way he leans slightly to the left, like he’s drawn to you––like he can’t help be more than an inch further from you.

You keep glancing back down at your linked hands; he’s shaking, but then again, that could also be you.

You arrive at the gate of your apartment quicker than you would have liked. Neither of you move to separate; when you look back at Yoongi, you see that his eyes are trained on you. He doesn’t even flinch away like he used to. His lips are pursed, like he wants to say something but he’s still too afraid to.

So you say it for him instead.

“Do you have… somewhere to be?” Unlike you, he still has a job. He still has commitments. He still has a life outside of you. You’re hit with fear, once again, at the sudden change in your circumstances.

You might never get to see him again. Is this where your paths cross, never to intersect again? Your stomach drops at the thought, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

“No, I don’t. I could…” Yoongi trails off, glancing at your apartment with soft hesitance. “If… If you want me to…”

Yes. Please. I’d love it. I love yo–– ”Yes. Stay with me?” you mumble.

“Always,” he promises.

The pair of you trudge up to your apartment, passing by the prying eyes of housewives with your heads bowed in embarrassment. They don’t miss your pinkies linked behind your backs, nor the subtle blushes on the apples of your cheeks. Thankfully, they don’t comment when Yoongi enters your apartment after you, but they do giggle when his coat gets caught on the door handle in his rush.

When the two of you are finally alone, the air isn’t as awkward as you had feared. You work like two cogs in a machine; he readies your TV and scrolls through your Netflix for a movie, while you go to your kitchen and have a small mental breakdown (while also microwaving some popcorn). Soon, the two of you are snuggled into your small couch, elbows barely brushing against each other.

You’re only half paying attention to the generic action movie that Yoongi had put on; you were still deep in your thoughts. You’re picking away at your hangnail, worrying your lip as you try to enjoy what might be the last time you’ll ever get to hang out with Yoongi again. You’re so deep in your musings that you don’t immediately feel when Yoongi wraps his arms around your shoulder, nestling your head into his chest.

“W… What?” You crane your head and stare at Yoongi in shock, but he’s already returned his attention back to the movie. His cheeks are burning.

You’re still stiff with tension despite his comforting caresses against your hair, so he changes tactics and brings your hand up to his.

You think he’s just going to hold your hand, but he keeps bringing your hand up until it gently caresses his face. Just as you’re about to ask him what he’s doing, he curls your fingers until only your pointer is left unfurled, and casually uses it to poke himself in the cheek.

He leaves it there for a second or two, and when you finally turn to face him, he’s smiling so sweetly at you that you almost feel compelled to cry again. His eyes and nose are all scrunched up, rose petal gums on full display. Your finger is still pressed gently into his soft cheeks.

“You said you liked to dream about poking my bread cheeks. Well, here’s your chance,” he says, like it’s nothing at all. As if what he has done was as simple as breathing.

Yoongi’s smile brightens when he feels your form relax against him, giggling softly when you go to pinch his cheek for good measure.

“Bread cheekies,” you say, like you’re in a trance.

Yoongi nods. “Bread cheekies,” he repeats. “And it’s all yours.”

There’s a promise in there, you know. Somehow, he had sensed your worry and had thought of the perfect way to calm you. Like always, he never has to say it. He’s never needed words, anyway.

The two of you stay like that for hours. The sun sets as surely as the moon rises, and Min Yoongi stays with you through the night. When your mind drifts off and only your steady breathing fills the room, Min Yoongi brushes a small kiss against your forehead.

“Dream of happiness, my love,” he whispers into your skin, just when he thinks you’re asleep, “I’ll dream of you, too.”

It’s a promise that he keeps.

There is a boy you know who never learned how to say he loves you, but it never mattered all that much to you––not when he’s willing to show you over and over again. It goes something like this––

6K notes · View notes

eirikaanemo · 3 years ago

Text

The Candy House

Venti x GN!Reader

3k Words

Warnings: eviction, manipulation, servitude, minor character 'death', temporary blindness, kiss at the end

Notes: This is NOT incest. You and Venti are strangers and are not related at all.

Getting lost in the enchanted forest was easy. The fog covering the ground, the trees blocking out the light, and the original path taking so many twists and turns made sure of that. From the chill sinking into your bones you can tell that it’s getting late. Fear settles into your heart. Who knows what lurks in these woods? All you know is that of all those who have entered these woods, no one has ever come back out.

The rumors all tell of monsters and creatures roaming in the night, devouring any unfortunate creature they may find. You can only hope that they are wrong. Perhaps if you find some sort of shelter you can be hidden and make it through the night. Unfortunately you have not been able to find any sort of shelter, anything would do at this point. And yet it’s nowhere to be found and all that’s left to do is keep searching.

Then you see a light in the distance, illuminating the silhouette of a house. Speeding up, you change course to move towards it. The closer you get, the more details you are able to make out through the fog and the dark. And the closer you are, the odder it looks. It doesn’t seem to be made of brick or wood, or any other sort of building material you have seen.

As you get even closer you find that it’s kind of made of bricks, if giant chocolate covered raisins count as bricks and dried icing counts as mortar. The windows tint the light different colors as the light passes through the semi-transparent hard candy. The front door is made of chocolate and has a gumdrop handle. The roof is made of wafer shingles held together by layers of caramel. It looks delicious.

When you approach the door it opens to reveal an old woman. Her eyes are white and unseeing but hold an unsettling glint, though her smile assures you that you are welcome. “Oh you poor dear,” she says mournfully. “Out lost in the woods at night! You must be cold. Come in, come in and stay the night. Dinner is ready and I would love to have some company. Please do come and join me!”

The thought of food makes your stomach rumble. You haven’t eaten anything all day. This is like a dream come true, too wonderful to be real, and yet it is. “I would be happy to,” you tell her and follow her inside. Just like the outside of the house, everything is made of candy. Everything but dinner, that is, thankfully. The food is absolutely delicious and you enjoy every bite.

After you help clean up the dishes she leads you to the next room over. It’s small with meager furnishings which include a comfortable looking cot. “I’m sorry, I know it’s not much,” she apologizes. “Being out here in the woods means I so rarely get visitors.”

“It’s fine,” you reassure her. “This is much better than trying to find shelter out in the woods.” She nods her head emphatically. “Oh heavens yes,” she agrees. “You wouldn’t even survive a night out there! The locals aren’t fond of strangers wandering around their forest.” The thought causes a shiver to run down your spine as she wishes you goodnight and leaves you to your thoughts.

Sleep comes easily that night but the morning is much too early. You’re shaken awake by the old lady, more harshly than you would expect from what she was like the night before. When you open your eyes, sit up, and turn to look at her she even looks different from yesterday. Gone are the sweet, soft features of an old lady and instead are the haggard, worn, and wicked features of a dark witch.

“By partaking of my food and generosity, you have sold yourself into my service.” The witch informed you. “Now get out of bed, you have chores to do and have slept in far too late.” Your eyes go wide as you remember the basic rules you’ve always been taught for dealing with the magical. Do not eat. Do not sleep. Do not accept favors. Three of many, and you had broken them. She is right, and you have no one to blame but yourself.

For breakfast you are fed bread crusts and water. Then you start on your chores. Most of them are normal things: sweep the house, do the dishes, and dust dusty surfaces for example. Oddly enough, she prepares meals despite it being one of the more risky tds for her. Then again she does have a lot of experience so there might not be as much risk as you might originally think. And apparently she doesn’t usually eat either.

There are also a couple odd chores. The most odd one being: feed and fatten up ‘[her] next meal’. When you ask her how to complete that task she mutters about how she knew she was forgetting something and releases a spell hiding a large hanging birdcage in the corner of the room. A birdcage with someone in it. There is a pile of bones beneath the cage. Human bones. You’re sick to your stomach.

At some point the witch must have left, leaving just you and them in the room. As if sensing that she’d left, the figure cracks an eye open, sits up, and stretches, then sends you a bitter smile. “I guess we’re both stuck here,” they say. A he, you judge by the sound of his voice. “Yeah,” you mutter, equally bitterly. “Tricked me with dinner and a place to stay when I really should have known better. And I didn’t even realize how badly I messed up until this morning.”

He sighs. “I tried to warn you, but she put up a spell to hide me before she went to bring you in.” He sounds so defeated. You shrug. “Thank you for trying. Don’t blame yourself though. This really is my own fault. How did she catch you?”

“Much the same as you,” he admitted. “I was searching for a treasure I had lost and found out she had it, which was true. So I came to try and get it from her but she tricked me into eating and trapped me here. Now she’s just waiting until I’m fat enough to eat it appears. I guess we’re stuck here together for now. And after she eats me, you’re probably next if allowed.”

The two of you are silent for a minute as you ponder your imminent demise and his rhymes. “Well I feel kind of bad now that I know, but I’m supposed to give you this. It’s one of my chores so I have to do it.” You hand him his breakfast through the bars of his cage. It’s a much better breakfast than your own but he wrinkles his nose at it before giving in and eating it.

As he eats you continue with your chores. Most of them are in the same area he is so you’re easily able to take care of his breakfast dishes. The two of you end up chatting while you work. He introduces himself as Venti the bard and tells you stories about his travels all over Teyvat, often times in rhymes. When he isn’t telling stories he’s singing you songs while you work to distract you from the numerous aches and pains that you’ve developed from all the work you have been doing. In return, you tell him about how you ended up in the enchanted forest in the first place.

You explain how the village has become convinced that you were a witch, even your own family. They had cast you out and now you have nowhere else to go. It was hard to talk about but oddly enough you felt better after telling Venti about it. He didn’t judge you or pity you for it, there was just a serene sort of sympathy that helped you feel heard and validated. And since you don’t really talk to strangers about that sort of thing, the two of you decide that you are friends.

A couple days pass and you notice that the witch has been testing how fat he is by feeling his finger. And the fatter he is, the more he has eaten, the closer he is to being eaten himself. Every meal has to be finished, she knows otherwise and the consequences aren’t pretty. So far he certainly isn’t fat, but both of you know it’s only a matter of time.

Then you come up with a brilliant idea. “What if,” you whisper to him after she leaves the room after checking, “you have her check that bone instead of your finger when she next checks? Her eyesight is bad enough that she probably can’t see the difference and it will buy us time while we try to come up with an idea to escape.”

“That might just work!” He declares. “And that would be just the thing to wipe off her smirk. It should buy us the time as long as she doesn’t give it too much mind. Here’s hoping it works, because the alternative will be much worse.” You slowly nod your head, “At least it’s a start.” He smiles at replies, “And it’s truly is quite smart.”

You blush at the compliment and feel your heart flutter in your chest. As time has gone by you have found yourself falling for him. It’s not any one specific thing, but a combination of many things that make him who he is: his jokes, kindness, thoughtfulness, and trying to make the best of your situation, to name a few. And it doesn’t hurt that he’s so cute.

Thankfully, the trick does work to your delight and her frustration. She started making his meals larger, but he just shared with you instead of eating it all himself. After all, the food needs to be eaten. And you may have admitted to be surviving off of bread crusts at some point. “I can’t have you dying of hunger, we need to escape together after all. And besides, friends take care of each other.” He insisted.

You swear that you fall just a little further in love with him every day. Sometimes you catch yourself staring and have to look away quickly, hoping he didn’t notice. Part of you suspects he does notice judging by the blush that dusts his cheeks you spot before you manage to look away. But if he does notice he doesn’t say anything.

Things continue like this for over a month with the witch becoming more and more impatient as time goes on. The two of you have yet to have found a good plan of escape and can tell things are getting more and more risky as time goes on. And one day, the witch finally snaps, the weight of her hunger breaking through what patience and reason she had left.

“I’m tired to waiting!” She exclaims, stomping on the floor. “I’m so hungry that I’ll just eat him, skinny as he is. And you know what? I’ll eat you too! Heat up the oven already, it’s time for me to feast.” Her gaze is fastened on you as you shakily start putting firewood in the oven in jerky motions. Both of you have gone pale and Venti has gone eerily still in his cage.

All too soon a fire is roaring in the oven. “Now check the temperature,” she orders you with a wicked gleam in her eyes. Venti caught on immediately and started silently gesturing for you not to do it. With his warning you realized what was going on. “Um, how would I do that?” You inquire instead.

“I’ve never used your oven before because you always do all the cooking.” It’s technically true, but you have used similar ovens in the past and know exactly how dangerous checking the temperature could be in this situation. But if you manage to turn it around… well, that might just work.

The witch stomps over to the oven and demonstrates how to check the temperature, leaning towards the oven with her head nearly inside. Rushing up behind her, you push her in and latch the door. There’s silence, so you unlatch the door and peek inside to find a melting gummy bear instead of the witch. “She’s a melting gummy bear. She won’t be eating anyone anymore.” You reassure Venti, who takes a deep breath out in relief. Not wasting any time, you start searching around for the key to the cage and eventually find it in the drawer of her bedroom nightstand..

He cheers with a big grin on his face. “You did it! We’re saved!” Fumbling with the keys and with a couple failed attempts you were able to open the door to his cage and he lept out. “Now I just need to find my treasure! Could you help me find it?” He requested. “Sure,” you say, already starting to look through her kitchen drawers. “What does it look like?” He shrugs. “Oh, you’ll know it when you see it,” he mentions vaguely as he works his way through checking some of the smaller rooms in the house.

After a while of searching you reach into a vase filled with flowers made of spun sugar and pull something out. It appears to be a queen from a chess set with a glowing turquoise orb set in it. “Is this it?” You question loudly so he can hear you from where he’s searching at the other end of the house. Footsteps approach as he rushes to check and his face lights up as he sees it. “That’s it!” He crows as he takes it from your outstretched hand.

He holds it close to his chest and the room flashes with a bright turquoise light. Not expecting the light, it blinded you and you dropped to your knees with a cry. You cover your eyes with your hands belatedly and try desperately to blink the darkness from your vision. Distantly you can hear him curse as he realized his mistake.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologizes. You feel him gently peel your hands away from your eyes and replace them with his own. A cooling, numbing feeling soothes your eyes. He moves his hands to the sides of your face and runs his thumbs over your eyelids one more time before you dare to try and open them.

At first you’re surprised by your restored vision as you look down at your hands. But when you look up you’re surprised for a whole other reason. Venti still looks like Venti, except for where he doesn’t. There’s a lot more skin showing than there was before, revealing turquoise tattoos on his chest and leg as he crouches in front of you. He is dressed in an immaculate white and gold outfit with turquoise accents that almost seems to glow. But most of all, he has sprouted white wings from his back.

“Huh?” You utter, very articulately, mouth gaping. Rubbing your eyes again, you try to see if that will fix your vision. Nope, he’s still there. You can hardly believe your eyes. He lets out a laugh at your reaction and it sounds like the tinkling of bells. “Am I really so amazing that it’s left you speechless?” He teases. All you can do is nod slowly, which makes him frown.

“I’m still Venti, you know,” he tells you, trying to put you at ease. “Sure, I may be Barbatos too, but I’m still your friend. There is no need for such awe. Though I’m afraid to say that it does mean that I can’t stay. I need to return home. But before I go, I can grant you one wish as a reward for all of your help.”

You gaze at him silently for a couple minutes as he patiently waits for your response. “If you have to go, then I wish for you to take me with you,” you admit. He blinks, surprised. “I would love to, honestly, but you know that means you won’t be able to come back, right? And I’d have to change you. You wouldn’t be human anymore.” You smile and nod. “I’m certain, it’s not like I have anything left here to return to anyways.”

“So be it then,” he says with a grin before he leans it and presses a kiss to your forehead. Your whole body tingles as your features change. Your ears grow longer and narrow into points at the ends. Wings sprout from your back, tearing holes in the back of your shirt. Your height adjusts to make you within an inch or two of his height. Opening your eyes after the transformation, you spy the blush dusting his cheeks as he avoids eye contact with you.

“You missed,” you tease, leaning in closer to him. His blush grows as he looks back at you, gaze getting stuck on your lips as he gulps. You can feel your own cheeks warm at the thought of what must be going through his head. “May I kiss you?” You implore, moving your hands to rest on his knees. He nods his head shakily.

Reaching up to cup the back of his neck with both hands, you pull him down to you so your lips can reach his. The kiss is simple but lingers as you pull away. He pulls you back in before you get too far. The next kiss is more passionate than the first, with an edge of desperation.

Eventually he breaks away. “We’ll need to finish this later,” he hums, nuzzling his nose against yours. “But there will be plenty of time for this in the future. We have all the time in the world now. And I want to spend every second of it with you.”

#eirika writes #venti #genshin venti #venti x reader #genshin impact x reader #hansel and gretel au #no really there's an evil gummy bear #his knight in shining armor

67 notes · View notes

lost-inthedream · 4 years ago

Text

How sf9 would warm up their s/o who's cold

☆★ Requested for the writing party

This is pure fluff and made as little (and very cheesy) scenarios.

➹Youngbin:

he definitely analyzes your outfit and nags at you if you are wearing a too thin coat for his taste. He meets you and immediately touches the fabric and look into your eyes with a questioning look, he repeats your name without clearly mentioning the issue. In any case, you know what he means and just laugh it off. "Binnie, take it easy. Look, I'm pretty.,"You draw a sweet smile from him. “Yes, baby, you’re stunning in this color.”

As soon as you cross your arms before your chest in a sign of cold, he starts to rub your upper arm and pulls your body against his. Close to your ear, you hear his voice in a warm tone "Princess, I guess we should come back home right now so I can cuddle you properly" He doesn't mind if people are looking, just suggests you to insert your hand inside his long coat pocket as you head to the parking lot.

➹ Inseong:

You get habituated to have your boyfriend glued to you during cold days, he insists that only you can warm him right. So you laid some pecks on his clothed shoulder and let him be. Once you start to feel the cool breeze provoking shivers on you for real, he helps you at covering your neck with the coat you have on, he even takes off his own scarf to lend you. “We should have stayed home” he complains paying attenction to your facial expression and touching your icecube-like cheeks.

You and Inseong are rarely seen outside in very cold days. You prefer your dates to take place in the confort and warmth of your house, sometimes his. He orders some hot food, takes the remote control and covers both of you with multiple blankets, wishing that nothing makes you stand up from that couch, the coziest pillow fort.

➹Jaeyoon

Jaeyoon is naturally a clingy boyfriend. As soon as you comment on the temperature, he nests you onto his chest and caresses the back of your head, tenderly messing your hair with his sweater paws. The soft wool of his clothing also touches your face and makes you smile. “Y/N, you’re suddenly so silent” he notices as you snuggle on him, your embrace tightening around his body, a Teddy bear.

“You are so warm and smell good.” Your voice is muffled but you do not bother to pull back from his chest. You can feel as he sighes, clearly melted by your words, he surely has a silly smile making his eyes become two half moons. You take adventage of his body for some minutes more before he invites you to his place.

➹Dawon:

You do not even need to say. If you shrink a little bit when you are on the balcony looking as the snow flakes, he knows it. Sanghyuk does not say a word, he purely runs inside and comes back with a fluff blanket to lay over your shoulders. You thank him, but he just shakes his head in response and brushes his nose against yours. The cold touch makes both of you chuckle like two idiots.

You accept his embrace, his gesture mantains the blanket exactly where it has to stay. “Tell me when you want to go inside.” he says calmly and kisses your forehead. You spend some minutes more just apreciating the light flakes that sweetly cross down your sight.

➹ Rowoon

Asks multiple times if it is too cold for you. “Are you sure?” He fixes your cold cap covering your ears, his face gets a bit serious but in the end he messes with a lock of your hair and whispers how pretty you are, making you shy. ”Now my face is getting hot.”

“That’s the idea” he jokes.

He takes you inside the closest restaurant if you insist that it is not too cold. Prefers sitting by your side over across from you, so he can mantain you close. You laugh when he asks you to open your mouth big, but there is alredy a generous portion of noodle held in the chopstick.

➹ Zuho:

Ju immediately interprets your complain about the cold weather as a good reason to head back home and cuddle until you both fall asleep. “We don’t need to be cold when my place is so warm for us” he suggests lifting your face to him by the chin. “What do you say, love?” he asks slightly pouty. How to say no??

You easily find your pajamas inside one of his drawers and change into them so your bodies can meet again in his bed. Both of you sleep quite quickly, only to be waken up a few hours later by Kkompaeng and Huru waking graceously on top of you, his low meows calling you out of cozy dreams. Juho shushes them, settling their fluff frames between the two of you. Your eyes weight and you doze off once again.

➹Yoo Taeyang

He notices how cold your hands are and cage them on his, making them disappear for a while. "Oh my God, you need gloves". You can see so much concern in his face as you struggle to not shake, managing to smile and say you are alright. He blows the warmth of his own breath a little bit, then buys you a coffee so you can come back home before you freeze.

Taeyang prefers taking you to your own place, where he can watch as you get comfortable in your cough or bed. He loves the soft smell radiating from your blankets. "You won't ask me to leave, will you?" he asks as he looks you unfolding that large cover that you have just picked from the wardrobe. "My love, I'm sure that we both fit under this blanket right here"

➹ Hwiyoung:

None of you seem to be willing to enter before the eclipse starts, the sky is perfect for witnessing such phenomenon. In any case, you admit you should have take a blanket with you. Despite Younkyun proximity to you, it is impossible to not shake at some point. He notices your struggle and pulls you between his legs. “Not the best weather to stay in the rooftop”. You hear him murmur behind you, tightening his embrace around you in every way he can, therefore with legs and arms.

“Why did the sky chose to be this beautiful in such a freezing night?” you complaim knowing that you eventually is going to need a real blanket, same for your boufriend. He plays it cool, but he smoothly shivers as well. “This is a hard question, love”. You forget about the eclipse for a second as your eyes get stuck on the view of your legs folded together.

➹Chani:

He is always going to offer his own coat, he simply cannot bear with your shaking next to him. The way you shrink your frame trying to warm yourself (and failing) just gets his heart in pain. There is no way of convincing him otherwise, he definately takes off his warm item and envolves you with it. “Don’t say a word, baby. It’s better now, right?” he asks tilting his head to the side to appreciate how cute you look protected in his coat.

You both need to find a rescue or go home quickly because soon or later, he is going to be cold just like you were. You cup his face, nose and cheeks getting redish. "Chani, I am very thankful for your gesture but we still need make you warm." You could warm him up in public, but you know it would make him shy. The two of you eventually make your way home in a hurry because you promised that you would spoil him with warm cuddles and kisses.

#sf9 reactions #sf9 scenarios #sf9 imagines #sf9 fluff #youngbin scenario #inseong scenario #jaeyoon scenario #dawon scenario #rowoon scenario #zuho scenario #yoo taeyang scenario #hwiyoung scenario #chani scenario #kpop scenarios

177 notes · View notes

whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 years ago

Text

aquarium ii | kth

pairing(s): taehyung x reader; ex-jungkook x reader

summary: Life after Jeon Jungkook was grey. You had to find your own color, grow your own rainbow. But what would surprise you the most is the appearance of white cosmos, seven of them clutched tightly in Kim Taehyung’s hand.

warnings: reader discretion is advised: a (half-hearted) suicide attempt; mentions of cheating in previous relationship; language; heavy angst; fluffiest fluff; non-idol!AU; kind garden-loving landlord!Taehyung x reader; ft. sadboi!Jungkook

–

part i

now playing – without me by halsey ft. JUICE WRLD

tell me, how's it feel sittin' up there? feelin’ so high, but too far away to hold me

You couldn’t remember that night very well, because you didn’t come up.

The worst part about being cheated on was not the actual cheating. It was the moment where you thought you had done something wrong, like somehow it was your fault it happened, like if you hadn’t done this or that, maybe things would have been different. Maybe if you hadn’t chosen that night to snoop into Jeon Jungkook’s phone, he would have had second thoughts, deleted it all, and loved you again. Maybe if you were a little kinder, a little more attentive, he wouldn’t have fallen out of love with you. Maybe... Maybe.

Maybe.

You knew that was just your brain trying to rationalize his irrationality. You had done wrong by invading his privacy by acting on sheer gut feeling. And you had run away, without confronting it, without giving him a chance, because you knew, you knew that if you gave him a chance, you would believe all his words, get dragged back into his sea, back into those dangerous waters.

All these thoughts coursed through you as the water closed in.

The milky bathwater was slowly replacing your depleting air, leaking into your lungs and you didn’t fight it, turning the darkness of the underside of your eyelids into light, because deep down you still loved him, no matter how stupid or foolish it was. Your heart still clung to his soft, I’m sorry, and you didn’t want to hear it anymore.

You didn’t want to know what loving Jeon Jungkook was like anymore. It was too painful.

you know i'm the one who put you up there name in the sky, does it ever get lonely?

You gave everything so he could be what he wanted to be, not knowing that you were the one slowly being eroded. No one could tell you. You were the one who had to find the signs. You were the one who found yourself trapped in glass walls, stuck in an aquarium, surrounded on all sides by Jeon Jungkook as he made a mockery of your feelings.

You screamed into the water and no one heard you.

The next memory you had was hazy, barely there.

You felt a tightness in your chest, harsh, solid pressure. A frustrated, agonized voice above you, desperately calling your name in deep baritone, desperately asking you to come back, praying in every language he knew for you to come back, come back, please, please, please.

“Please…”

In the whiteness, you wandered. Were you meant to be here? It was a loose fog. You looked around, seeing traces of memory like torn book pages, slipping through the haze. You reached out to touch them and they disappeared, only mirages.

And then you fell, dragged into dark blue, torn, battered, lungs burning as you struggled to stay afloat, coughing hard, your muscles screaming with asphyxiation, sudden oxygen flooding your brain. You whipped your head to the side, hacking up water, spilling it all over the green tiles of the bathroom floor, head pounding. Thoughts swimming, barely computing the shouting above you.

“I can’t fucking believe you,” one voice growled above your jerking body, so venomous that it made your blood run cold. “You absolute disaster of a man, thinking for one fucking second she would even consider taking you back. Look at her! She’d rather drown herself in my damn bathtub than hold a conversation with you!”

“What the fuck do you know?” The familiar voice, the voice that haunted you in your nightmares, the voice that fed you sweet poison. “She would do anything for me! She worships the fucking ground I walk on!”

You curled up into a ball, head pounding by the sudden explosion of light and sound. There was a towel over you, covering your wet naked body, and yet you shivered. You barely registered Kim Taehyung snarling, rising to his feet.

“You narcissistic bastard,” Taehyung spat out. “Get the fuck out of my house. Get the fuck out and don’t ever come near her again or I’ll break your fucking neck.”

“You can’t do anything to me. You’re a nobody,” Jeon Jungkook taunted. “Unlike you, I actually have money to sue you for assault.”

Apparently, Taehyung did not give a single shit, because he immediately roared and launched himself past you, the brown ball slamming into the black wall. You blinked, trying to register what was happening, but it was too much for you and your brain that was slowly trying to restore function due to lack of oxygen. They tumbled down the stairs and you laid your head against the floor, hearing the grunts and shouting, wondering why Taehyung had come back.

Wondering how he knew.

You closed your eyes.

In your dreams, you saw the soft sunlight glowing against Taehyung’s tan skin as he reached down to retrieve a dark green cucumber to show you. It was a bit wonky and hadn’t grown quite right, but you watched Taehyung tap it and smile to himself.

“Doesn’t matter what it looks like on the outside,” he said cheerfully. “I know it will still taste delicious because I gave it love.”

You tried to go back to work, but it was awful.

You loved your work. Perhaps it was boring to others, accounting all day, but it was mundane and peaceful, always knowing what you had to do. You never had to question the numbers. The numbers were what they were and that was that.

But now when you stared out into the grey urban jungle, it pained you.

What once was your safe haven turned into your cage, chaining you to clock in, clock out. You would go home to a motel nearby, crying into unfamiliar, starched sheets, pitying housekeepers preparing your meals, asking you what was wrong and you couldn’t tell them.

Because you didn’t know.

i'm sad inside, but i know it's for the best, right? you had to realize where you drew the line

You didn’t check his social media. You didn’t check his Twitch, his Instagram, his Twitter. You got a new phone, only giving your new number to your work and your parents. With a start, you realized you hadn’t contacted your old high school friends in years. You had lost them all, committing social suicide for Jeon Jungkook. In fact, you had no social media presence, so there was no need to download those apps.

There was nothing on your old phone that you wanted. It sat in the storage unit, forgotten. You didn’t want to turn on your old phone to see the photos, the lock screen of his arms around you, smile on his face from two years ago.

A smile you didn’t even know was real or fake.

i still hate it when you’re not there

You tried to tell yourself you were fine, because moping over Jeon Jungkook was stupid. But you had invested so much. You had given him everything. It was hard to regrow. You were stuffed in this tiny motel room, staring out to the hazy, polluted city, yellow sunlight fighting to be seen.

You sat by the window, clutching your pink flats, remembering Taehyung’s last words to you before you left.

“I looked up the brand and bought you some new ones,” he had said sheepishly. “I felt bad that they got so ruined, all because I asked you to help me with the garden.” He gave you that big, boxy smile. “Just think of them as a parting gift for being such a great tenant.”

You inhaled a deep breath, placing the pale pink flats next to the exact same style but grass-stained, greyed-out, worn ones. You stared at them both.

And made a choice.

“I thought I would never see you again.”

You lifted your head. The scent of flowers, so familiar and comforting, wafted around you, a reassuring embrace. You were wearing a long-sleeved white dress, a brown ribbon around the collar. The pink flats, the ones the owner of the deep baritone voice had gifted you.

That was nearly six months ago now. You had since thrown away the other ones.

Kim Taehyung walked up to you. He was wearing brown overalls and a cream shirt, elbows smeared with dirt. His skin had lightened due to the passing winter, but it was spring now. The flower shop was very busy, but there were other employees, and Taehyung was fixated on you.

“I didn’t know you worked here,” Taehyung said quietly, his brown eyes shimmering. “I would have come here a lot more often if I knew.”

You bit you lip and bowed your head politely, smiling at him. Taehyung coughed and rubbed the back of his head, messing up his dark brown hair. It was longer and curlier now, desperately needing a trim.

“I… I came to get carnations. The shop I normally go to ran out.”

You nodded, leading him wordlessly to the red and pink carnations. There was still a good number left, but you had to pick through carefully to find the most beautiful ones for him. He watched you work, chewing on his lip. You held up the large bouquet to him.

“What do you think?” you asked softly.

He smiled at you. “Perfect.” He didn’t ask the price. “Could you make two corsages out of a few of them?”

“Of course. Right this way.”

You brought him to one of the counters, selecting a few blooms to make the corsages. You showed him the available ribbons and he picked a thin, sheer white one. He watched you work, quickly, but delicately, careful not to bruise the petals.

“You became an expert about flowers,” he remarked. “I’m still struggling.”

You smiled. “I’m still learning. It’s very different from what I used to do.” You twisted the ribbon into a perfect bow, using floral wire to secure it.

“You don’t talk to him anymore, do you?”

You shook your head. “Haven’t seen him since that day you threw him down your stairs.”

Taehyung laughed a little too loud, making the patrons stare at him. He coughed nervously, cramming the crumpled brown hat under his arm onto his head. You placed your hand over your lips, trying to hide your chuckle. Your fingertips smelled like phloem sap from the cut stems, sweet and grassy.

Taehyung gazed at you, surrounded by flowers, carnations laid out on the counter.

“Will you… let me take a picture of you?”

You blinked at him, lips parting.

Taehyung reached into his pocket, pulling out an old 35mm film camera. He looked sheepish as he held it up, hesitating.

“Sorry, I just… you look so beautiful, and I don’t want to forget that.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “I know it’s a weird habit. But I like to take pictures and I never took one of you.” He looked deep into your eyes.

“I really regret not taking a picture of you.”

Your fingers were still over your mouth. You nodded.

Taehyung held the camera up and snapped a photo.

“He waits for you to get off work every day. It’s been a week now.”

The manager was teasing you, nudging your arm as you tugged on your long camel coat. You smiled at her, an old woman with knowing eyes that had seen and enjoyed a lot of life. Taehyung waved across the street as you made eye contact with him.

“There aren’t men like him anymore, you know,” she said gently. “These kinds of things happened in my generation, but now young people send pictures of flowers instead of the real thing.”

When you thanked the manager and walked out to Taehyung, he held out a small bundle of tiny flowers to you. White cosmos. You stopped, surprised. Breathless as you looked up at him. He was illuminated by a streetlight and the dying sun, the golden hour matching his golden skin. Holding out the white cosmos, shivering in the spring breeze.

“They’re not that pretty,” he said guiltily, stepping up to you. “I’ve been trying to grow flowers for months now and these are the only ones that survived, ahahaha…”

He scratched his head, brushing his hair back.

“I always hoped that if I saw you again, I could show you that I was able to finally grow flowers.” Taehyung laughed, shrugging apologetically. “This is all I got.”

You reached out and took the small bundle from him. They were a bit curled and slightly wilted from being carried around but you smiled at them.

“No one has ever grown flowers for me,” you said quietly.

The tiny yellow centers of each flower were surrounded by white. You counted seven. Taehyung had given you seven flowers. Seven flowers he grew on his own, because he wanted to show you. You placed your fingers on your mouth, the scent of the floral shop returning to you with the action. Your chest felt tight and full, a feeling unlike any other.

“I wanted to grow at least eight,” Taehyung lamented. “Because that would be luckier, but…”

You shook your head quickly, looking up at him. Him and his beautiful brown eyes, a small patch of dirt underneath his cheek. He probably didn’t even know it was there.

“No.”

You removed your hand from your lips and smiled at him.

“Seven is perfect.”

You threw your hands around him and hugged him tightly.

When Jeon Jungkook saw you again, everything was different.

He was distracting himself from school. University was much harder than he thought, especially since he didn’t attend right after high school to pursue his streaming career.

For a long time, he had someone to take care of him, first his mom and then you. Someone to do everything so he could recklessly chase his dreams. But things were different now. He had to suddenly become an adult. It wasn’t because of you. You hadn’t told anyone what happened.

But everyone knew.

One girl had let it slip, and then another and another, and then screenshots were plastered everywhere, all over the internet for anyone to see, not knowing the context, tossing judgements left and right. His parents found out and then his friends, everyone disappointed in him, not surprised that you vanished without a trace. He had to vanish too, every sponsor cutting ties with him immediately, not asking if it was true or not. It was bad for business to be associated with something like that.

Jungkook really regretted it now, but there was nothing he could do to take it back.

That’s why he was sitting in this tiny, one room apartment, using what was leftover from his streaming money to get a degree, saving every penny to his education. At least he hadn’t been so reckless to overspend. You hadn’t let him, always reminding him to save for his future, using your own income to pay for the necessities.

Even now, you were helping him.

Every once in a while, Jungkook would type variations of your old Instagram username into the search bar, wondering if you had ever set it up again. He had asked you to delete it, since you had been getting constant DMs from guys asking you out, sending you unsolicited dick pics. You had agreed, even through you could have fought him or simply privated it.

You had deleted it, Jungkook knew now, because he asked you and you loved him.

It hurt to know that you loved him so dearly and he was too busy feeding his own ego to see it.

When Jungkook saw you again, you were surrounded by flowers.

Your profile picture was a close up shot of your beautiful face, golden sun against your skin, a white cosmos tucked behind your ear. He knew it was you. He could tell by the shape of your lips, the contours of your eyes, even through your eyes were closed. Wearing a white dress, the ruffles fluttering in the wind.

Jungkook was breathless, seeing you again. He scrolled through your pictures. They were mostly of flowers, with captions of how to grow them. Were you a florist now? Some of them were of you in different dresses, surrounded by blue sky and green summer. The smile on your face was so dazzling that he wondered who gave you that smile.

His heart wrenched uncomfortably in his chest.

Or maybe it wasn’t a someone.

There was a time when that smile was his. There was a time when he could make you smile like that, your lips saying his name breathlessly – “Jungkook, Jungkook, look at this!” – showing him something silly or giving him his favorite banana milk with special edition packaging, saying how cute it was, just like him.

He blinked and a droplet fell onto his phone.

Right on your smiling face, hand holding a large straw hat, your pink dress fluttering in the wind.

Jungkook wiped it away, swiping at his tears with the sleeve of his black sweatshirt, wondering why had he taken that smile for granted, why he had drifted away from the safe coast, why he had thought, even for a second, that the days and nights you spent cleaning after him meant that you were keeping yourself busy and away from him, not seeing it for what it was, not seeing that it was your love for him and his own sloppiness that left him here now, staring at your summer as his summer was torn from him by textbooks and lectures.

He shuddered, still looking at the pictures, not wanting to miss a moment, even if they weren’t his moments anymore.

One of your pictures was a bundle of seven white cosmos, a little wilted and sad-looking.

Jungkook read the caption.

It doesn’t matter if you don’t think you’re beautiful. Because there is someone out there who thinks you are. They use every resource they know to give you love, even if it’s clumsy at first. Even if you don’t think you need it or want it.

The tears were really coming now, streaming down his cheeks as Jungkook asked himself why, why did he give this up?

They celebrate you and your love instead of simply tolerating it.

You sat on the edge of the cliff, legs dangling over the side.

Your pink flats were right beside you, and your arms were resting on the wooden fence. The ocean breeze was strong here, salty and cold. But you didn’t feel the cold, because Kim Taehyung had wrapped a thick wool blanket around you two. It was already night, but by the seaside it was still chilly, even in the summer, due to the sea breeze.

He peeled the foil back on a roasted sweet yam, taking off some of the skin so you could bite into it. You tried to take it from him but he shook his head, frowning at you. You laughed and took a bite, scalding your mouth from how hot it was. But it still tasted good.

“I asked my parents if I could have it.”

You looked up at him, trying to blow the steaming air from your mouth in attempt to cool off.

“The cottage?”

Taehyung nodded, taking a bite and wincing. “You’ll never guess what they said.”

You smiled. “What did they say?”

He scowled. “Then pay rent!” He waved a hand to the seaside house behind you two. “They own it! Why do I have to pay rent? I’m their son!”

You giggled, hiding your mouth behind you hand. Taehyung angrily bit into the sweet yam again and choked, forgetting how hot it was. Your giggles turned into full-blown laughter, falling back onto the grass, wool softening your fall. Taehyung narrowed his eyes at you, shaking the yam furiously. The white moonlight glinted off the silver foil. He puffed his cheeks and sighed as your laughter faded out.

You looked up at the stars, realizing how clear the sky was here.

It was nothing like the city.

Even in darkness, the white stars shone against the black, bright and clear. You wouldn’t have seen them if you weren’t here, on your back and looking up at them.

“Anyway, they only said it was a hundred won, so I guess that’s fine,” Taehyung grumbled. “Really made me worried there for a second, sheesh.”

You turned your head to look up at him. “You going to live here?”

Taehyung shook his head.

“No, you are.”

You blinked, taken aback. He rewrapped the yam, determining it was too hot to eat right now. He gazed down at you, smiling a little.

“It’s better than that one room you have in that house. Safer too.”

You chewed on your lip. “But I can’t pay the amount I paid when I rented it…”

Taehyung poked you with the yam. “Weren’t you listening? The rent is a hundred won. No, two hundred for you, since I have to make some profit.”

He laid down next to you, eye to eye now, smile getting bigger.

“Although I hear there’s this annoying gardener that comes around every day caring for the plants.”

You were smiling now too, drawn by his cheeky, boxy grin.

“Really? I think he’s pretty cute. I think that’s how he gets away with it.”

His brown eyes locked with yours.

“Will you let me care for you too?”

The sound of the sea, crashing into the rockface, constructing a new memory for you.

“I know you’ll be much harder than a plant,” Taehyung murmured quietly. “Sorry, that’s a dumb thing to say, I meant–”

You pressed your lips against his, cold air chilling your cheeks, warmth spreading throughout your soul.

When you pulled away, breathless, Taehyung was staring at you, eyes wide. Those three words came to you, words that you thought you were never going to say again, words you had for someone else, but you knew this was the right one, the perfect flower.

The one who struggled to grow seven flowers.

White cosmos.

Just for you.

“I love you, Kim Taehyung.”

The next summer.

Seven flowers. White cosmos, bright, glowing, perfectly shaped. Surrounding your left hand. The ring finger held a princess-cut diamond surrounded by six tiny small ones like petals.

The caption.

He grew them perfectly this time.

Jeon Jungkook sighed heavily, placing his phone back in his pocket. The noise around him was loud, clattering and chattering, now a familiar atmosphere. The black bucket hat was low over his eyes, shrouding them. He pulled his face mask higher, hiding his features, not wanting to be recognized. Internet shame was enough; he didn’t need public shame as well. He already had to switch universities because of it.

Jungkook placed his hand back onto the subway rail, shouldering his backpack, staring out the train window at the black tunnel.

masterpost

#taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #kim taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #taehyung scenarios #kim taehyung x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

373 notes · View notes

theyreonlynoodlesmike · 4 years ago

Text

Melting Wax, Crawling Vines: Part 5 (Vincent Sinclair x Fem!Reader)

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

Warnings: cursing, slight voyeurism

Word Count: 2734

@meanduck

Vincent hadn't meant to spy. He didn't know when everyone was coming back, or if any of them were currently even at the house. Sure, Lester had told him that the three of you were leaving town, but he'd been disconnected from his brothers the second you had arrived. He only wandered inside the house because he wanted to see if the three of you were even back yet, and he was surprised to hear muffled voices coming from his room.

In his surprise, he'd managed to step on one of the floorboards that always creaked. He winced to himself, even if he doubted that the pair of you heard it. He took a step forward, pushing a painting slightly aside and glancing through a hole in the wall that only he knew about.

There, inside his old room, was Lester and you. He couldn't make much out, but he could see his bed. He saw your suitcase and the box, and it didn't take long for him to piece together what was going on. She's staying in my room , he thought to himself. He knew he shouldn't have expected much else. Bo wouldn't give up his room, even if he slept in the basement under the auto-shop half the time. Lester wouldn't give up his room because, while he had a whole other place to stay, his stuff had filled it to the brim. So, it was either his room or their parents room, and Vincent knew it was an obvious choice.

He didn't stay long, and, in fact, left the second his younger brother eluded to knowing that he was there. He didn't really mind that you were taking his room, as he didn't see it as much of a loss. He spent most of his time in his workshop anyways, which did have a bed already in it. The only thing he hoped was that you didn't find the supplies he'd shoved under his bed.

***

You had woken up late, and the sun was high above the horizon by the time you peeled open your eyes. You rubbed your eyes, trying to clear them of any bleariness as you reached towards the bedside table for your watch. It was early afternoon, and you groaned. Your first impulsive thought was that you were going to have to fix your sleep schedule before school started, but you stopped that thought dead in your tracks. You weren't sure where you'd be teaching this year. You couldn't teach back at home, and you'd have to tell your new town that you could no longer accept the position. At least, until your ex was apprehended. You sighed, moving to press your face flat against the pillow.

You'd stayed up past midnight, planning and prepping for the next night. You knew that you probably didn't need to, that the boys might not have super high expectations for classes. It was more to distract you from any potential thoughts about your ex, to distract you from the creeping anxiety and potential nightmares. Thankfully, you'd fallen into a blissfully dreamless sleep, one void of images of your ex or your sister. You blamed the new town, maybe even the new room. It wasn't your own, and it didn't resemble anything close to where you'd lived. The complete change in scenery probably had something to do with it. You picked at the blankets, wondering if that had anything to do with it either. Your old set had been one that had been brought with you, from the house you'd shared with your ex and your childhood home turned into your sister's home. Perhaps the bad dreams had been clinging to your sheets, like ghosts. You played with the thought, wondering if Vincent had any bad dreams attached to sheets you were under.

You shook your head. You'd been thinking about the mysterious figure far too much. You knew it was just curiosity, but you couldn't wait to meet him if not to just expel the way your mind consistently went back to him. You got out of bed, grabbing a pair of socks to wear so your feet wouldn't freeze on the wooden floor. You looked outside the window, seeing that Lesters car was gone. You guessed that Bo would be down at the auto shop, and you didn't know if Vincent even really lived in the house. So, you guessed you'd have it completely to yourself.

You saw no reason to change, and you walked down to the first floor in just your sleep shirt and a pair of pajama shorts. You figured, worst case scenario, you'd end up having pizza for breakfast. If there was any left. You went straight to the kitchen, your footsteps silent as you approached, and you nearly jumped when you saw a figure at the sink. His back was turned to you, but you quickly guessed that this had to be Vincent.

He was as tall as Bo, if not a few inches taller. His hair was long and dark, and it looked almost as thought it had a few pieces of wax caught in it. He was wearing a sweater and overalls, despite the Louisiana weather. You couldn't imagine how he could withstand it, especially with working with hot wax all day. Eventually, you cleared your throat so you wouldn't sneak up on him.

You had leaned against the doorway to the kitchen, pressing your shoulder against it as you watched him jump. He dropped his bowl, and he was quick to turn to find the source of the noise. Like Bo had described, he was wearing a mask. You gave him a smile and a wave, knowing not to expect much of a response from him. At least, until you began to teach him some signs.

"Hi," You started, before giving him your name and walking closer. "You must be Vincent, right?" And you watched how he awkwardly swayed for a moment. He had turned so his hip was leaning against the counter, and, despite his size, he almost looked like a caged animal. Ready to run at the first sign of an opening. You walked until you were only a few steps in front of him, and you watched how he gave you a small nod. Your smile widened, and you held out your hand. "Well, it's nice to meet you. I'm excited for our first class tonight." You added, and you nearly thought he was going to leave you hanging.

After a long moment and a slightly too long of a silent pause, Vincent reached out to wrap his hand around your own. It was large and covered in wax in some spots, same as the front of his overalls. It seemed he'd just come from wherever he worked, and you supposed his hours were just as off as yours were. But, despite the spots of wax, his hands were warm and soft, and he only gave your hand a soft squeeze before he was dropping it. You tried to suppress your smile, as you guessed that Bo had been right. He really was shy, but you couldn't help but find it endearing.

"So, I'm guessing Bo and Lester went out?" You asked, and there was a shorter pause between his nod. You had moved, walked so you could stand a few steps besides him near the counter. So you felt less like you were trapping him against a wall. His gaze has followed you, and you could see a single blue eye peering out from the mask. Bo had been vague about the description of what lied underneath, but you also supposed that it was simply none of your business. Still, the way his eye stared at you, almost unblinking, realized how casually you were dressed for your first meeting. Subconsciously, you pulled up your shirt. "Do you guys happen to have anything to eat? Any coffee? I don't mean to ask for much, and I can always head to town…" You trailed off, watching as Vincent quickly sprung to action. He had to step closer, reach above you to open the cabinet and point towards the cereals on the lower shelf. He gestured to them, and you were able to guess his answer. Help yourself. And you watched as he turned his attention to a coffee maker. His movements were careful and deliberate, and as you looked around, you saw the kitchen was about as clean as you could expect it to be.

Vincent started a pot of coffee for you, simply because you were unfamiliar with their machine. You picked out a box of cereal, and Vincent was quick to show you where the bowls were. Despite showing you, he still reached to grab you one and then passed you a spoon. Thankfully, he didn't hover and let you pour your own cereal, and you gave him a smile and a quick thank you when he pulled out a carton of milk for you. He resumed his spot next to the coffee maker, hovering by it while you fixed your cereal. You could feel his stare glide over to you, but you kept your smile to yourself as you mixed the milk and the cereal before popping a spoonful into your mouth. It was, at least, breakfast related, so it was better than the alternative. Vincent tapped his fingers lightly against the counter as the coffee started, and you saw that his gaze flicked away from you the second you looked up at him. You did your best not to smile, and quickly had another spoonful of cereal to hide it. You saw that Vincent had pulled out two mugs, so you guessed that he was having one himself. When it was finished, he poured himself a cup and passed you the sugar. He let you fix your coffee how you liked it, and he placed the coffee pot back inside the maker to keep it warm. Once you were done, you helped him put everything back.

"So, I guess I'll see you tonight?" You asked, taking your bowl to the small table stuck just outside the kitchen. He gave you another nod, and you watched as he took his cup of coffee past the stairs. You figured his workshop was up there as you began to eat, idly thinking about what you were going to spend your time doing that day. Once you finished up, you washed both your bowl and your mug, setting them aside in the dish drainer, and went upstairs to change. It was still early afternoon, and you figured you could find Bo before you could find Lester. Luckily, your new room had a bathroom attached to it, so you didn't have to scour the place looking for a shower.

You grabbed your toiletry bag from your back-pack, and fiddled with the shower for a moment until the water was to your liking. You took a quick shower after locking the door behind you, scrubbing off a days worth of sweat and any of the paranoia that lingered from the day before. Once you were showered, your teeth were brushed, and you were changed, you went down to find Bo.

The walk was short and the sun was hot, the sky as clear as usual. You could already hear music playing from inside the shop, so you didn't figure Bo would be able to hear the bell of the door ring. You knocked against the open door to the garage, trying to catch Bo's attention from where he was ducked under your hood. He didn't look up, so you called,

"Bo!" And you startled him to the point where he knocked his head against the hood. You gasped, covering your mouth. "Oh, I'm sorry! You just didn't near me knock, so I-" You said, but he was taking off his cap to rub the back of his head and shouting,

"Fuck- Just turn down the music!" He cut you off with his words, and you were quick to whip around and turn it down. You heard him sigh and curse to himself, and you repeated a soft,

"I'm sorry." As you came back to the door of the garage. "I just- I just wanted to check-" But he was cutting you off again and saying,

"It's fine, it's fine. I just couldn't hear you. So, you're finally up, huh?" And you didn't know if the statement was supposed to have a bit of bite in it or if you were just imagining it. You supposed his annoyance was warranted, as he had just hit his head. Still, you bit your lip and quickly thumbed back towards the entrance.

"If you're busy, I can just- I can go explore. Walk around. Maybe pick some stuff up from the store if you need anything." But Bo was quick to say,

"No, no. I could actually use a hand here. Another set of eyes." He said, and you almost didn't note how quick he was to shut that idea down despite his previous annoyance at your arrival. Almost. You thought it was strange, and realized that this was the second time that your idea to explore the town had been shut down. Vincent's had been softer, but this one struck you.

But he was beckoning you forward, and you were stepping closer and into the garage anyways. You didn't know nearly as much as Bo did, and it seemed more like he was trying to test your knowledge more than anything. You ended up mostly passing him tools and holding a flashlight for him, and when you asked,

"So, any idea what's wrong with it?" Bo's reply made little sense to you.

"Could be your battery. Your spark plugs. Hell, might even be your engine. Basically, I'm surprised you made it this far with this thing." You simply nodded and tried not to grimace, and you thought you caught the edge of a smile on his face as he turned back towards the vehicle. The only thing you knew was that this was starting to sound expensive, and like it was going to take awhile. After an hour, you asked him,

"Do you mind if I use your phone again? I just wanna let my local sheriff know about what happened." And Bo seemed to hesitate for a moment before he said,

"You gonna faint again?" And you gave him a soft laugh and a shake of your head. "Alright. But remember, it's probably best not to tell anyone where you are." He said, and you gave him a dutiful nod. You pulled yourself off the stool you'd been sitting on, and went to grab his phone. You dialed the home phone number of your local sheriff, and, after telling him everything, he agreed with Bo.

"He's probably right. We don't know how he found you, but stay where you are and don't tell anyone, alright? We'll find him, don't worry." After a moment of hesitation, he asked, "You sure who you're staying with are good people?" And you were quick to say,

"Yeah, I'm sure. They've been real nice to me." You told him, and it seemed as if the sheriff had something else he wanted to say, but decided against it.

"Alright, darlin'. Stay put and stay safe, y'hear? Call back at the end of the week for an update." And you agreed before wishing him goodbye. When you plopped yourself back onto the stool Bo had pulled aside for you, he turned to give you a grin before nodding back at the flashlight. You said a quick, "Oh," And went back to shining it where Bo needed you to. You'd been there for a couple of hours when Lester came by, and you quickly found that that's what the pair of you had been waiting for.

The three of you went back up to the house, ready to start your first lesson. You went upstairs to grab your folder for the first class, finding that Bo had disappeared into one of the rooms. When he returned, he wasn't alone. You set up at the table besides the kitchen, and Bo and Lester took the seats across from you. Leaving Vincent to take the seat besides you. He seemed hesitant, but sat down nonetheless. Finally, you opened your folder to begin.

#house of wax #house of wax 2005 #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair

142 notes · View notes

asmo-ds · 4 years ago

Note

(1) satan has been feeling a bit down lately because he really wants a cat but he knows that lucifer won't allow the cat inside. mc knows how satan feels about cats so as a christmas present they take him to volunteer in an animal shelter and more specifically one that's for cats.

The Purrfect Gift *HOLIDAY SPECIAL*

Satan x gn!MC Fluff

Word Count: 1517~

Summary: Knowing Lucifer would never allow them to bring a cat into the house, MC decides to bring Satan to an animal rescue shelter to keep the kittens’ company on the cold winter holiday, and despite entering the shelter with only two House of Lamentation residents, they leave with three.

“Please, Lucifer! I just know he’d love it and he’s a grown-up he’s responsible enough to have at LEAST one-”

“MC, for the last time, the way Satan’s mind works is if he is allowed to have one cat he’s allowed to have twelve more. It happens every time I’ve ever said yes to giving him a cat.” The first-born shakes his head and MC can see the vein on his forehead popping out from frustration.

“Well, what the hell else could I get him?! He’s got every book anybody could ever want, he has all the detective movies and games I’ve ever seen, he just doesn’t exactly give me very many options…” MC rants, muttering towards the end.

“Just take him to a cat café or animal shelter or something. I really couldn’t care less, MC,” Lucifer growls, a dark aura of frustration and annoyance surrounding him as he scribbles his signature onto papers with more and more aggression by the second.

“AN ANIMAL SHELTER! THAT’S PERFECT!” MC jumps and gives Lucifer a hug, making his annoyance only grow as he yells not to touch him while they skip off into the hallway.

“C’mon! C’mon! You walk so slow, Satan,” MC tugs his sleeve like a child, making him sigh loudly.

“MC, not to be rude, but as much as I’d like to get there quickly, you have me blindfolded and walking down an icy sidewalk, if I move any faster I have no doubt I will fa-ALL” Satan explains, slipping on a patch of ice at the end of his sentence.

“Woah, careful, Satan, you have to watch your step,” MC snickers, watching his eyebrow twitch, indicating his eye had twitched along with it in annoyance. MC raises their head and looks up at the sign of the small building.

“We’re here!” MC sings letting go of their boyfriend’s hand and walking behind him to untie the blindfold. “Ta-da! We get to keep the kitties company on Christmas!”

Satan’s initial annoyance of the blindfold removal exposing him to the bright sun was quickly wiped away by the scene before him. MC opens the front door, the bell jingling above them as they step inside.

MC takes the blond’s hand and rushes to the room of cats.

“Hey kitties!” MC falls to their knees almost instantly, petting the cats that had come to see them. They look up at Satan and see his eyes sparkling as Cats pour out of cages and small hiding spots, making their way towards the pair.

“Hey Satan, they seem like they like you,” MC points out, giggling as Satan crouches next to them and lets cats crawl all over him.

“I’ve never known why, but all felines have always been so drawn to me, which is lucky considering I like them so much,” Satan softly smiles. “And I mean felines both big and small. One time Mammon won a tiger while gambling, and when he brought it in the house it tackled me and purred while nuzzling me. It was the best moment of my life.”

MC and Satan play with the cats for hours, both feeling a bit guilty that these cats had no home for the cold holiday.

While he was playing with an older cat, he heard a soft and broken meow accompanied by some soft thumping and dragging sounds. He turns around and sees a small, white kitten with only three legs attempting to reach him, but being pushed over by the numerous other cats trying to capture the demon’s attention.

Satan reaches over and picks her up, holding her and bringing her to an area of the room further from MC and the other cats.

“Hey there little girlie,” he says softly, petting the kitten gently and enjoying the vibrations of its purr. Satan plays around with the kitten and feeds it some treats before he hears the soft voice of a human, “we should probably, head home now,” MC comes towards him, only to be met with a big pout and puppy dog eyes. “No no no no NO! Lucifer made it very clear! I am not to bring home any furry friends, no matter how cute and fuzzy and lonely, and FUCK IT LETS BRING HER HOME,” MC gives into his pouting and watches it turn into a big smile.

The Avatar of wrath picks up the amputated kitten, baby talking to it the entire way to the front desk.

After some paperwork and purchasing of some essential cat stuff, MC and Satan head back to the House of Lamentation, stopping outside the front gate to make their game plan.

“So, put all of this stuff into your bag, and I’ll hold the kitten under my coat.”

MC stuffs the cat food into their backpack, alongside a few small toys they had bought. Satan unzips his coat and places the cat underneath the clothing, holding it tightly to his chest by crossing his arms underneath it to keep it up. “Be quiet kitty, okay?” He presses a finger to his lips and smiles down at the kitty.

They quickly walk towards the front door, opening it quietly and closing it softly behind them. Footsteps come down the hall, both MC and Satan giving each other a worried glance, knowing exactly who was approaching.

“MC, Satan. How was the animal shelter?” Lucifer asks with no sign of emotion.

“It was nice! I had no idea felines would be as attracted to him as he is to them.” MC giggles. Wow, they’re good at hiding things. I wonder what kind of things they did in the human world to get so good at this, Satan thinks to himself, a bit concerned about their lying skills.

“Yes. It was like a dream, having so many cats around on such a nice holiday,” Satan adds on with a mischievous smirk, “much better than any present you’ve gotten me in the past.”

“Good. Be sure to wash those clothes and shower off all the cat hair. You reek of felines,” Lucifer snarls as he walks away, obviously suspicious of the intense cat smell that his demon nose could easily pick up.

MC and Satan quickly rush to his room, going to the furthest corner to set up their new daughter and her toys.

They both watch the cat hobble around, sniffing the room and exploring as they whisper to each other. “She needs a name.”

“How about, MC JR.,” MC says confidently.

“No, she doesn’t seem like an MC, if she were an MC she’d be getting nearly killed every five minutes, yet so far there have been no fatal incidents,” Satan states, earning a big punch to the shoulder from the human.

“Okay fine, you come up with one, then!” MC looks at Satan with a playful glare.

“Fine. How about Icy, y’know since it was so icy today,” Satan suggests, earning a loud purr from the kitten in question.

“I think she likes it. Do you like being called Icy?” MC coos at Icy, receiving another purr followed by a happy meow.

“Who likes being called Icy?” a chilling voice says from behind the couple.

“Our daughter,” MC smiles, holding the kitten up to Lucifer, showing its cuteness to the annoyed man looming above them.

“I specifically told you that-” Seeing Satan’s disappointed face for even half a second gave MC the balls to stand up against Lucifer.

“NO! Satan is a grown man, and even if you’re the oldest brother and choose to look down on everyone I will NOT let you ruin this Christmas for him! I got him a cat! You will allow him to keep this cat unless you want me to give a bad essay on my time in the Devildom and go to Lord Diavolo about all of this and your stuck up attitude and pride that have no place interfering with the happiness of your brothers!” As MC finishes they notice Lucifer is in demon form, seconds away from attacking them, they flinch before their lover appears before them, gripping Lucifer’s wrist and preventing him from getting to them.

MC hears hissing from the ground and sees that even Icy is trying to stand up for her new parents.

MC takes to caring for the distressed kitten as the two men argued. They hear Lucifer give in and storm out before Satan dives down to where MC and the kitten lay, squeezing both of them tightly and lovingly.

“Fuck Lucifer,” MC grumbles making Satan laugh.

“Not literally, but yes fuck Lucifer.”

The rest of the night is spent petting and holding both MC and Icy as he truly feels serenity for the first time in centuries.

“I love you, both,” Satan mumbles, falling asleep and kissing both MC and Icy on the forehead.

“I wuv u too!” MC fakes a voice for Icy making Satan sleepily laugh before he dozes off.

“But I love you the most, Merry Christmas, Satan.” MC places a soft kiss on his cheek before falling asleep holding one tiny kitten and Satan one very large kitten.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me luficer #obey me satan #satan obey me #satan om #obey me imagines #satan obey me imagine #obey me satan imagine #obey me hc #obey me hcs #obey me fluff hc #obey me angst hc #obey me fluff #obey me x reader fluff #satan obey me fluff #obey me: one master to rule them all

185 notes · View notes

cafeinthemoon · 3 years ago

Text

From the Human Heart - Chapter III

Chapter: 3/4

Wordcount: 2905

Title: The Lamb and the Knife

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna X reader

Previous chapters

1 . 2

Symbols: ⭕ . ➕ . 💛 . ▶️▶️

Warning (s): Mental breakdown, mental instability (one occurrence in the beginning of the chapter)

N. A.: I confess I was a bit afraid that this chapter ended up too sad or depressing during reader's return to the village, because what she sees there is something that could break anyone's spirit, and with her things are not different. However this story has a happy ending, so I guess I can make up for it 😅 Also, I was planning to finish the story in this chapter, but the text ended up being too long, so I had to add a fourth chapter. I usually avoid establishing a number of chapters in my wips because they always get longer than I plan, but this one should be a short story (guess I failed in this smh)

A shiver ran all over your body and woke you up in an instant.

You didn’t open your eyes yet, but you knew you were lying on something cold, having your cloak to protect you from the chilling breeze of the morning. Morning? Something was telling you that it was morning already. Well, in that case… when did you fall asleep? What happened to you while you were not awake?

The rustling noise of the leaves was heard when you moved on your spot, your right arm aching after spending a long time in the same position. You opened your eyes at last and found a gray, autumnal day around you, the fainting light barely breaking through the dense top of the trees. All you could see was brown, red and yellow, as expected. Fortunately, winter hasn’t reached you yet.

That was strange, to be honest. Why would you think you’ve spent more than one night in that place, long enough to not see the change of seasons?

You sat on the forest’s ground and checked your own state. Everything was in its place: your dress, with the slit in the cleavage made by the King of Curses; the cut in your cloak’s stripe was still there, but the stripe was tied up again around your neck, a bit tighter; your empty bag was on the ground, serving as a pillow in that wild, improvised bed. Was it you that arranged things this way? Was it him? You didn’t know, and you didn’t think that finding out the truth would bring you any comfort.

In an urge to make sure you were alright, you opened your cleavage and checked your skin in the spot touched by Sukuna to seal the pact. There was no stain, no wound, no mark there; you weren’t feeling pain, burning or ache. Nothing changed in it. Of course not, you old yourself: what he did was an enchantment to change your soul, not your body. Any change that could come from it would not be visible to the eye.

With effort, you took your bag and stood up. You shook the leaves and tugs off your dress and cloak and took a second look at your surroundings. That was the same clearing in which you met Sukuna, and you were lying among the roots of the same tree you stopped at to read the sentences of the ritual.

The clearing didn’t seem so large and mysterious now that you were seeing it under the day light. It was silent, unlike the moment when you found it, full of sounds of night birds and small predators rushing their paws through the leaves, out of your sight. All that life was now gone, as if it has never existed.

A blow of cold wind twirled and passed by you before you could see where it came from, carrying leaves and dust with it. You took it was a sign to leave, as if it was saying to you that there was nothing there but death and oblivion. You protected your eyes and once the column of dust moved away, you ran out of that place.

You didn’t know how you managed to run through the same way that brought you to that cursed forest without ending up breathless, aching and out of your mind. Your feet were carried down through its declined territory, full of traps and roots, not stumbling in a single one of them, nor your clothing were ripped or got stuck while you ran.

To you, you’ve been running forever: the more you moved forward, the more the scenario around you looked the same. Was it part of the enchantment or were you just tired, eager to return to your village and see the results of the treaty?

You relied on this latter and continued to move.

***

The village, seen from the high spot of the hill, was the same since you left it. Not that you should expect something else – you were changed, nor your old home. Besides, you couldn’t have left for so long. But it felt like years in your heart, and the night before landed as a dream in your memory now. You adjusted the hood upon your head and tightened your grip around your cloak: the cold breeze ran free without the trees to obstruct it and you wanted to protect yourself; and, despite your trust in the results of the enchantment, you still had no ways to know exactly who were going to see you or not, so that you didn’t want to expose yourself before you had the chance to explore the territory.

Well, when you were reaching the lowest spot of the hill you were left with minimal choices regarding this.

A commotion was happening at the village’s entry, not so far from the place you where standing: a group of people stared with desperation to two or three men who you recognized as members of the Jujutsu council, the ones your father used to refer as his closest allies among them; these men were trying, with great effort, to contain a man who screamed incomprehensible words in a harsh, animalistic voice and scaring the villagers. The man was dressed in the same traditional clothing of the sorcerers, but all the noble aspect of it was gone, replaced with rips and blood as if its owner was kept locked inside a cage and tried everything in his reach to escape it, fighting with people and weapons.

Your blood ran cold in your veins when you recognized the insane man as your father.

After that, it was like your ears were uncovered and you started to understand what he and the other men were saying. They were arguing under a case of thievery: a treasure has vanished from the Jujutsu collection at your father’s house; the masters were convinced that the responsible for the crime was now far away from the village and must have been a clever Jujutsu sorcerer since they managed to deceive all of them, including your father; however, they were confused by the story your father was telling.

Between one growl and another, this was what you could understand from his speech.

- I know exactly who did this! My daughter did this! My own daughter! And I will hunt her till the end of the world!

His own daughter. You.

Your feet stepped back in an unconscious urge to run, but somehow you stood to listen to the rest. You immediately understood the agitation among the Jujutsu masters: the treasure that disappeared was the flower, without which they could not stand a chance against its true owner. Without the jewel, all the lies told by them and their leader were going to be brought to the surface and the whole village was going to pay for their dishonesty.

But none of this has hit you like the realization that your father was talking about you, that he still remembered about you and was willing to come after you to recover the jewel.

And that the situation was not the same to anyone among the people around him.

- Please, enough with this nonsense, master y/sn! – one of the sorcerers was saying, struggling to hold the furious man by his arm.

- Enough with this! – a second man shouted with less patience – You have no daughter! You’ve never had!

Yes, it wasn’t that surprising that the elders couldn’t see you – they never hid their distaste towards you, the greatest obstacle to their ascension in your Jujutsu society. But you didn’t take too long to notice that they weren’t the only ones who have forgotten about you: the entire village has, or at least all the people who were at your sight, some of them known to you for years. Some of them you yourself used to love and respect, and have trusted with your life in the worst moments of your relationship with your father – people you could swear to love you back.

Could it be that you, known by your connection with the most important sorcerer of the village, was an unpleasant presence to them as much as your father must have been? Could it be that they only tolerated you because of him?

A tear rolled down your left cheek, dried by the cold wind that passed at that moment, strong enough to take off the hood of your head. You still weren’t sure of what was more painful: to realize that your father was the only one who remembered you or to see that not even the people you liked were able to reciprocate you just enough to not forget you after an enchantment.

Something died inside you while you saw that. So you just put your hood back and turned your back on your old home, restarting your way up the hill again and hurrying up before your father noticed your presence.

***

It wouldn’t make a great difference if you decided to stay in that forest if the next night reached you there, for you had nowhere to come back as much as you had no place to go to. You were no longer on a hurry: running up that hill twice in so little time has taken the remaining energy in your body and your spirit, so you started walking; if you were passing by the same paths you’ve crossed before, you didn’t know and didn’t care.

To say you were walking was too much. Your legs were shaking, and your numb feet were stumbling even before reaching the obstacles; your hands were doing their best to hold on to the branches and any other support they were able to find, since you couldn’t count on your eyes to guide you: you hadn’t go blind, but you weren’t seeing anything in your way. Your attention was all in what you just witnessed, not in what you had in front of you.

It was as if you just died and had the opportunity to come back to see how the people you knew were dealing with your absence. If you were honest to yourself, you would have already accepted that what you saw wasn’t unexpected at all; still, it wasn’t something that you could completely understand until it happened to you.

At some dense spot of the grove you stopped, despite not having any hopes of finding some rest. You held tight on a low branch to not fall of exhaustion and concentrated on your breath. It was when you noticed you didn’t sense the expected harshness of wood while touching its surface.

You looked at your hand and screamed – your skin, exposed until your fist, was blue. Blue, but not just as a way to say it was cold: it was indeed blue, as a frozen lake reflecting the winter sky. You stepped back as if that was the hand of a stranger, but it followed you and obeyed all your commands, not letting any space for doubts; it belonged to you. You turned it to see its back and noticed variations in the blue, stains of a darker shade, and saw that your nails were now indigo, all of them in a sharp shape, just like…

Just like Sukuna’s nails. A curse’s nails.

You gasped at the memory of his warning. This was what supposed to happen in case you didn’t accept the result of the enchantment. You looked again at your palms and saw no cut nor wound that the branches could cause to a human’s delicate skin – yours were intact, as expected from a resistant curse’s body part. You rolled up your dress’ sleeves to see if your arms were blue as well and observed in horror as the slow transformation reached them.

You adjusted the sleeves and stopped looking. There was no use in desperation. You adjusted the cloak around you and crossed your arms around yourself, accepting the punishment.

- For someone who was so determined just one day before, you do not seem so happy now… child.

His voice grew from the depths of the forest and reached you as if it vibrated by its own will, shaking every nerve you had in you, waking you up to the darkness of your new reality.

You turned to find the King of Curses in the middle of the clearing, just like the first time you’ve met, but now the day was still there above you, with no sign of the red shadows of the summoning. That could only mean one thing: he hasn’t left after the treaty; instead, he remained in those lands, perhaps observing you while you were unconscious or waiting for the next events in the village to take place.

Having him witnessing your downfall in all its bitter details disgusted you in a way you didn’t think to be possible. Still, you found strength to give him a verbal response.

- Haven’t you had enough fun by now? – and after a gasp – Why are you still here?

Sukuna shrugged, not even a little upset by your hostile reception.

- I was just passing by and happened to meet you again – he raised an eyebrow –I am surprised to see that you are still here, to be honest. I thought you have left these lands yesterday. This is the reason why you wanted the enchantment, is not it?

Before you could formulate an answer, he approached and lowered his four eyes to your hands; you clenched your fists and tried to hide them behind your back as a last attempt to save your dignity, but your move was ignored by him, who passed his hands around you and brought yours to his sight, examining their skin with simulated preoccupation. You gave up on any attempt to pull them back: though there was no harshness in the way he was holding them, you knew he had enough strength to break them in such case, or cut them off with the same easiness he has cut the stripe of your cloak or the lock of your hair.

- So it is happening already? – he frowned while caressing them with his thumbs, speaking more to himself than to you – So soon…

- Soon?! – you spat the word – Are you telling me you deceived me?!

Sukuna’s gaze turned to you in surprise at this accusation.

- What do you mean, brat?

- I gave you back the jewel my father stole from you and didn't ask for anything near its price in return, and yet look at me now!

- You knew that I was going to… that this was going to happen to me anyway… is this what you’re telling me, right?

- Hm?

His carefree manners were making you more and more furious and desperate.

- What did I do for you to deceive me like this?!

- Who said I deceived you? – he sighed – I thought you were smarter than this, dear. I was honest with you in our whole treaty. The seal was established according to the rules and the enchantment worked as well. Otherwise you would not have noticed any difference or, in a worst hypothesis, you would have died in the process. Well, not even I would be here in such case. If I broke the rules, I would be punished. You must know that.

You fell silent. That was true: in the Jujutsu world, if two individuals established a pact, both of them were under the obligation to respect the rules of the said pact, otherwise they would be punished – with death in the case of a human and with exorcism in the case of a curse. Still, you were convinced that something was wrong with your own deal.

- It cannot be…

You felt your eyes burning, full with tears that you weren’t able to contain. The weight of what you have done has reached you at last, and from it you couldn’t escape. But were you capable of carrying it? You doubted that.

You felt his hand wiping the tears of your cheek.

- Shhh… No more whining, dear – he lifted your chin to make you meet his gaze – Now, tell me what is going on... What is it that is upsetting you so much regarding the enchantment?

You were impatient, of course, but didn't offer any resistance. You spoke all at once before your voice could crack in a new burst of desperation.

- I came back to the village and found out that the only person who was able to see me was my father. No one else remembers me. And this situation made him insane… – you sobbed – Tell me, how is this possible?!

He giggled and assumed the tone of a Jujutsu teacher.

- You want me to confirm what you are not willing to tell yourself even in thoughts? Alright. I think I can do this for you. You know the rules as well as I do. If someone does not love you, they will forget about your existence. If they do, they will remember you, whether they are the only one in this case or not – and then, he had nothing for you now besides the logical conclusion of the case – So, if your father is the only one who can see you now… He must be the only one who loves you.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk x y/n

46 notes · View notes

iliumheightnights · 4 years ago

Text

Remembrance | Robb Stark x Male Reader

Fandom: Game of Thrones

Pairing: Robb Stark x Male Reader

Summary: (M/N) finds Robb alive after thinking he was dead.

A.K.A, an alternate universe where Robb survives the red wedding somehow.

…

“King Robb and Lady Catelyn are dead! Killed by the Frey’s at the twins!”

(M/N) stopped as he heard those words. Not just two days had passed since he had left his love to deal with Theon. He had been worried about leaving Robb, but the man assured him he would be okay. He should have trusted his instinct. Now Robb was dead and he wasn’t there to protect him...at the least to die with him.

When they arrived at Winterfell they found that the ironborn had all been killed or captured and the Boltons now held it as their keep. (M/N) couldn’t believe it, there was practically nothing left for the Starks. He knew that if he tried to retake Winterfell he and his forces would die. He ordered his forces to fall back and then disbanded the war party. “Return to your keeps, swear loyalty to the Boltons,when I find Bran,Rickon, Arya or Sansa...be prepared to retake Winterfell.”

…

It had been months since the events of the red wedding happened. (M/N) was haunted by the visions of Robb. He couldn’t remember if he told him that he loved him before he had left. That was the part that (M/N) worried about the most. He didn’t want the last thing he said to Robb to be awful or an argument.

It was a common occurrence for him to see Robb in his dreams whenever he went to sleep. Robb would be standing there like any other day and smile at him with that stupid grin. (M/N) would try to get to him but before he could reach him Robb would look like he had just been stabbed and would fall just out of (M/N)’s reach. And those were the good nights.

Sometimes when he would be travelling he would believe that he had seen his lover standing in the treeline, or sometimes he would think he was among the crowd of people. It was never true. He couldn’t seem to get it through his head that Robb was gone, the king of the north was dead. He thought about what Robb would say if he could see him now. He’d laugh at him for being so weak, for not being able to move on.

No. Robb wouldn’t think that at all. Robb would apologize for worrying him, apologize for leaving so soon. He would tell him how much he loved him and how they’d meet again. (M/N) knew that's what Robb would really say. He saw how broken his love was after his father was killed in kings landing, he’d never judge (M/N) for grieving.

Sometimes (M/N) hated the fact that he was alive. Why was he still breathing when Robb and most of the Starks were dead or missing? Missing. He had to find the Stark kids, that’s the least he could do for Robb, Ned and Catelyn. So that became his next mission, he knew that Sansa was being held by the lannisters. Bran had been at Winterfell with Rickon if anything Osha and Hodor would protect them both. Arya was what concerned (M/N), the lannisters said they had her...but he knew they were lying. Arya couldn’t be captured by anyone.

So that’s what (M/N) had been doing now. Searching for the lost Stark Girl. He had looked everywhere, From king's landing to even casterly rock. Everywhere he looked he didn’t find her. His search finally brought him to one place he was hoping to avoid. The Twins. Of course, he couldn’t just go around asking for a missing Stark. They’d have his head before he even thought of escape. His best chance of finding out if she was here would be to sneak into the dungeons.

Sneaking into the dungeons was no easy feat, for some people. For (M/N) all he had to do was kill a guard and take their uniform. Maybe it wouldn’t work for say the Lannisters, but for the Frey’s they were too stuck up to truly notice that he didn’t belong. He approached the dungeon and spoke to the guard. “You lucky Bastard. Lord Frey says you get to go have fun with the others, I get stuck guarding the pigs tonight.” The guard laughed and handed him the keys before he started walking away. “Sucks for you! Imma go find a nice woman to bed.” (M/N) rolled his eyes and waited for the guard’s footsteps to quiet. Once the coast was clear, he turned and entered the dungeon.

The cells were mostly empty, probably because Walder Frey liked to execute his prisoners rather than waste food on them. The few cages that did have prisoners looked like they had been there for a while, but no sign of Arya so far. Then (M/N) caught his breath as he took in the sight of someone he didn’t think he’d see ever again. “No...it can’t be. Robb?” He stepped closer to the cell and the man inside looked up. The man’s eyes widened and quickly stood up rushing to him. “(M/N)! By the gods what are you doing here?” (M/N) felt Robb’s hands grab his own on the bars. He actually felt him. He was real, he was alive. He looked exactly like he had, but with more messy hair and beard. “How are you...nevermind. Let’s get you out of here.” (M/N) quickly unlocked the cell and was engulfed in a hug by Robb. “Oh gods...It’s so good to see you. I thought I’d never see you again.” (M/N) hugged him back but quickly let go. “I thought the same, we’ll talk later but now we have to go. Here.” He handed Robb a cloak from the wall. Must have been left by another guard. The man quickly put it on. “So what’s the plan?” Robb asked. “You follow my lead.” He gripped Robb’s shoulder and began walking out of the keep. (M/N) quickly checked the hallway and was glad to see it still empty. “We’ll go through the secret entrance. That’s how I got in here.” Getting out of the Twins was surprisingly just as easy as getting in. They never expected someone to come and steal the king in the north.

(M/N) and Robb made it back to where (M/N) had left his horse. “Okay you’re up first, we need to go.” (M/N) quickly undressed from the Frey uniform and got back into his regular outfit. He grinned as he caught Robb watching him. He helped Robb onto the horse and followed soon after. “Okay let’s get out of here before they realize you’re missing.” (M/N) wrapped his arms around Robb’s body and grabbed the reins. The two booked it as far from the Twins and the Freys as they could.

As they rode it seemed to be too quiet. “What happened to you? I thought you were dead?” Robb stiffed a bit. “I thought I was. I had been shot multiple times and stabbed, but somehow...not enough to kill me. Walder Frey wanted to use me as a hostage in case the North retaliated...but I can see that isn’t going to happen anytime soon.” (M/N) let out a huffed, forced laugh. “North’s in a large civil war right now. No one’s saving anyone anytime soon dear...I heard they sewed Grey wind’s head onto your body. I’m guessing it was some other poor sap?” Robb nodded. It got quiet again. “I’m sorry about your mom Robb. She was a strong woman and I’m sure she’s watching over you with your father right now.” Robb didn’t say anything but leaned back into (M/N). They were quiet the rest of the ride.

They rode on for another day and only stopped to rest when they were sure they were far enough not to be followed. They arrived at an old hut, it seemed to be worn down by the weather. “Here, this looks abandoned. We can rest in here for the night.” (M/N) jumped off the horse and helped Robb down. “I’m fine, I’m fine. You don’t need to coddle me.” (M/N) tied up the horse. “Oh I think I do. I thought you were dead for months. I don’t want you out of my sight again.”

The inside of the hut was at least still stable. The roof didn’t look like it was about to collapse so that was the most important thing. (M/N) started a small fire in the fireplace and pulled out his pack. He took out a knife and threw it towards Robb. “Here. Get yourself cleaned up. Looking more like a wildling now.” Robb laughed and took the knife. “You wish.” Robb was going to start but stopped as he had an idea. “Why don’t you help me?” He wiggled his eyebrows at his love.

(M/N) sighed but grabbed the knife and began shaving him. He kept his hands steady as he worked his magic. “I’ve missed this...well not shaving you but just getting to feel you. I never thought I’d get to do this again. Glad I was wrong.” Robb smiled and rubbed (M/N)’s arm. “I’m glad you were wrong too.” (M//N) finished shaving Robb and cut his hair down back to the length it was at before the red wedding. The two looked into each other's eyes and leaned in. (M/N) felt Robb’s lips on his and pressed deeper. It had been so long and he almost forgot what his love felt like.

The two broke apart and cuddled together in front of the fireplace. “So what happens now? I can unite the houses and rally them against the Boltons and Freys.” Robb said but (M/N) only shook his head. “I can’t see that going well. The red wedding killed many of your loyal men and the survivors won’t easily come back just yet. Perhaps you and I should figure out how to save Sansa or to find Arya or Bran and Rickon.” Robb frowned. “We’ll find them, I want them to be safe. Protected. But I also want my family home back. Those Boltons-” (M/N) interrupted him. “Will pay for what they’ve done. But there’s nothing we can do right now. For now just try and relax and we’ll come up with a plan tomorrow. For now…” He let his fingers move across Robb’s chest.

“Let’s make up for lost time.”

#game of thrones #robb stark #robb stark x male reader #robb stark x male!reader #robb stark x reader

240 notes · View notes

immortalcoelacanth · 4 years ago

Text

Between the Walls, Chapter 3: To Earn His Keep (Dream SMP fic)

*hits table*

I have so many wips, why is my muse just like this?

Word count: 5313

Summary: Jobs are assigned and questions are asked as to why the hell Tommy and Techno are still putting up with one another.

Tommy had been confused as to what Techno meant by him having to work to earn the right to stay in his house. What work could he possibly do that would benefit him?! He couldn’t chop wood, or mine any precious resources. Crafting was also out of the question since he could only make things that were good for someone his size, so that left…

Nothing.

There was nothing he could do. There was no possible job that would suit him that Techno would benefit from, so he honestly had no idea what would come of the deal they had made. Perhaps nothing at all, and he would be allowed

Yeah right, as if he had ever been that lucky.

“TECHNOBLAAAAAADE! YOU FUCKING DICKHEAD!” Tommy howled as he clutched the wooden bars of the makeshift cage he was in. It was practically a repurposed box, the gap between the bars being too slim for the borrower to slip through, but even if they were big enough, he wouldn’t dare escape.

Primarily because of the large pit of groaning mods below him.

Apparently, the “work” Techno had planned for him was nothing more than him acting as bait for a basic mob farm. He was suspended above a pit, his cage attached to a wooden outcropping, and the faint glowing of the strange, red and orange cubes below him allowed him to easily see the hoard of zombies, skeletons, and the occasional creeper milling about.

He glanced back at the house and scowled, knowing Techno was probably sitting inside, all safe and warm. The cage barely blocked out any of the freezing winds, and since Tommy hadn’t been able to grab a jacket before being put out here, there was nothing to protect him from the cold. He was stuck, freezing and yelling at the top of his lungs.

Damn that stupid pig-

… Or hybrid.

It was a term the borrower was vaguely familiar with, he had been eavesdropping when one of the farmers back in Borrowton mentioned “hybrid plants” and how useful they could be. From what he knew, hybrids were like a sort of mixture, two different things being used to make one. Two different plants producing a new one.

He guessed one of Techno’s parents really was a pig fucker.

Tommy snorted at the joke before shuddering in the brisk breeze, arms wrapping tightly around himself while he huddled up on the floor of the cage. It sucked, being out here with nothing but the mobs for company. At least when he had been with Techno, he’d been able to interact, to socialize. It was something that he had always craved, to be able to reach out and connect with people. Even Techno’s occasional barbs, jokes, and the anger he caused Tommy to feel was better than being stuck outside.

Bastard, going from acting like he wanted to protect him to sticking him out here.

… Speaking of which, it had been very strange to witness that exchange. See the way that Techno hesitated to reveal his presence, and the fact that he had tried to hide Tommy further after the librarian made it aware that he knew the borrower was there. Some part of him had cheered, recognizing that maybe the pig-hybrid actually cared about him in some way, even though they had only known one another for about a day, but Techno’s actions earlier-

“What’re you making?” Tommy hesitantly asked as tried to stare at the crafting table. He had basically been told, ordered, to wait on the table while Techno finished whatever it was that he was making. Not wanting to anger the pigman, he had reluctantly done his best to stay in place.

Fidgeting the entire time, of course. Staying put had never been his strong suit.

“Just something to help with your new job.” Techno explained before turning around and showing off the cage he had made. “Gonna make things a lot easier.”

“... What’re you gonna put in it, then?” Tommy questioned, not at all liking where this was going. Of course, the answer he got was one he had expected, but still never wanted to hear.

“You, duh.”

Techno grinned, and Tommy felt his heart drop.

“You’re gonna be the bait.”

Had obliterated the small sparks of that hope. Techno didn’t care about him and only saw him as a means to an end. Probably why he got so huffy when that other guy noticed him. Clearly no one was allowed to mess with or torment Tommy unless it was Techno himself-

Twang!

The borrower let out a startled yelp as an arrow slammed into the side of his cage, making it rock and sway. He scrambled to the side of the enclosure and tried to spot what had shot at him. His eyes scanned the empty yard, briefly landing on the empty stall that Techno must have built for some reason. It was weird to just have that structure sitting there, all empty and ready for some animal to inhabit it-

There!

Tommy shook himself out of his thoughts as he spotted the source of the arrow. A lone skeleton that had, somehow, not stumbled over and fallen into the pit, was aiming at him, bow drawn and another arrow pointed in his direction. He immediately backpedaled, arms flailing as the newest arrow was released, just barely missing the cage.

Shit, shit!

“Fuck off you stupid bitch!” Tommy howled as the skeleton readied another arrow. As it was aimed at him, his panic and the pitch of his voice increased until he was practically shrieking. “FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU-”

Twang!

Another arrow slammed into the skeleton’s skull, bone shattering and turning to dust. The monster dropped to the ground, the fallen bow and arrows the only sign of it ever having been there, and he quickly looked over at what, or who, had shot the arrow.

Technoblade.

Of course.

“Couldn’t have shown up any sooner, you bitch?!” He shouted, internally cringing when those too bright, red eyes landed on him. He watched as the hybrid rested the crossbow he had used to kill the skeleton on his shoulder before making his way over to the wooden post. He glared down at Techno, more than aware of how not intimidating he looked as he shuddered in the cold. Although, his glare lightened up when he was finally removed from the post, less exposed to the winds as he was unintentionally sheltered by the hybrid’s body.

“I was just testing a hypothesis I had.” Techno simply responded. The borrower waited to see if he would elaborate on what that meant. A moment passed, then two, and then-

“Well tell me then! You don’t need to act so secretive!”

That tiny, near invisible smile on Techno’s face grew as he started to speak. “A hypothesis on whether your voice is annoying enough to instantly agro mobs, and it is from the looks of it. Congratulations-”

“Wh-you bitch!” Tommy sputtered as he raged and pointed aggressively at the amused hybrid. “I have the voice of an angel! It’s not annoying!”

As if trying to prove Techno’s point, and in turn prove the borrower wrong, another arrow was launched at the duo. Techno easily dodged it, hardly sparing a glance at the new skeleton as he returned fire and took it down, while Tommy was jostled about thanks to the sudden movement. He just barely managed to stop himself from smacking his head against the wooden bars, and that scowl on his face grew deeper.

For some reason, Techno possessed the uncanny ability to infuriate Tommy no matter what he did. Whether it was his occasionally smug, know-it-all attitude or how obtuse he could be at times, there was just something about him that never failed to upset the borrower.

… Not that he would ever tell him, of course.

Of course, his general unease and anxiety towards this new situation did not help in the slightest, leaving him on edge and ready to snap when something potentially bad happened. It was a miracle he had not been killed yet, and he quietly wondered how much longer his luck would last.

Not that such a thought would stop him from acting like how he typically did.

So, as was in his nature, Tommy immediately started shouting and cursing once more. “And why the fuck did you stick me up there for so long, anyways?! It was freezing up there-”

“You wanna go for round two?” Techno interrupted, lifting the cage up so Tommy could easily see the wooden post he had been hanging from. Immediately, the borrower backed up and started shaking his head.

“No! No, c’mon man! I was just teasing you!” He backpedaled. “Just a little joke, I swear!”

“The only joke here is your accidental pun.” Techno quipped, his smile growing as he watched realization, and then horror, cross Tommy’s face.

“Listen! It’s-it’s a crime to make jokes about me being small, because I’m not! Absolutely criminal!”

Techno let out another chuckle as he shut the door behind him and made his way towards the table. “It’s a good thing I don’t follow laws, then.”

Tommy didn’t dare ask what that meant.

Fortunately, a distraction soon appeared in the form of the cage being set down on the table, followed by one of the sides being removed. He quickly jumped out once there was enough room for him to move, stumbling a bit over the lip of the cage before he straightened himself out.

He ignored the amused snort he heard from beside him, not at all looking at Techno, and instead chose to bask in the sensation of finally being indoors, even if he was still freezing. Tommy shuddered as he wrapped his arms around himself, doing his best to heat up after being exposed to the cold for however long he had been stuck outside. The roaring fireplace definitely helped to chase away some of the chill, and he found his eyes lingering on the large pot that had been added to the fireplace. The air smelled… nice, and it looked like Techno had decided to make soup for himself.

Strange, since he swore the hybrid’s diet consisted of nothing but steak and the occasional, weird sparkly apple.

God, he’d been dying to bite into one of those and see what they tasted like…

He jumped in surprise as Techno placed a small, obviously handmade, wooden bowl filled with soup on the table. Curious, he slowly walked over and checked it out. It was still a bit too large for him to use, he’d probably drown himself if he tried to drink straight from it, but it was definitely much more manageable for him to use.

“Is… is that for me?”

The hybrid just nodded as he got himself his own bowl of soup. As such, he was unaware of how Tommy’s jaw dropped in pure shock, as he carefully traced the side of the bowl. The guy who’d spent the last twenty four hours tormenting him had made something for him, made something that would make his life easier!

He hadn’t been given any cutlery when he’d been kicked out of Borrowton, all he had were some basic tools and rations of food. The absolute bare necessities. And, instead of letting him suffer and search for something he could use, Techno had made it using his own two hands.

It dawned on him, in some strange, iconic twist of fate that he had unintentionally helped Tommy out more than his own people had. Invested more care into making sure he didn’t just survive, but was also comfortable.

… And not spilling soup all over the place-

Regardless, it was one of the last things he would have ever expected from Techno, and he quietly wondered if the hybrid had been working on the bowl while he had been stuck outside. Was this…

A reward?

Tommy’s breathing hitched and he quickly wiped his eyes before any of the budding tears could fall, idiot, crying over something as stupid as a bowl. By the time he had gotten his emotions under control, Techno had looked over to find him just staring at the bowl, appearing to be doing nothing.

“Did you expect me to spoon feed you or something?” He chuckled, waiting for Tommy to respond. When the borrower said nothing, his smile faded. “Bruh-”

“Don’t look at me like that!” Tommy objected, nearly knocking the bowl over as he turned his attention to Techno. “I’m just surprised! Big, bad, Blade making a bowl, never thought I’d see the day. Guess you’ve got little dainty girl hands for that!”

Techno rolled his eyes as the borrower continued rambling, tuning him out as he went about his supposedly dainty hands, and questions about if he made bird houses in his spare time. Eventually, Tommy got that he was done interacting, and the duo focused on their respective meals, with the borrower burning his tongue in his haste to try the soup.

“Fuck.” He hissed, waving a hand over the bowl to help it cool down as he cringed in pain. After waiting for the burning sensation to fade, as well as checking to see whether the soup had cooled down enough, he carefully tried again.

As he slowly sipped away at his soup, he watched as Techno made his way over to a chair, picking up the book that had been placed on it, as well as putting on his reading glasses. They were surprisingly worn, primarily held together by tape, and just barely managed to stay on the hybrid’s face as he sat down and cracked open the book. He then quickly realized that the book was the one he had gotten from the librarian.

The one about borrowers.

He felt… weird knowing someone was basically researching him, studying up on the supposed myths about his kind, and wondered to himself when he would get interrogated. Would Borrowton be mentioned in that book, or one of the other settlements? Tommy had never visited them, but he knew they were out there.

Knew about the rumours of the secret tracks that had supposedly connected each settlement to one another and was used to ship goods back and forth. He and Tubbo had tried searching for them one day and had only wound up with bruises and a stern scolding from the adult borrowers, telling them it was foolish to believe in made up stories.

But he never listened. Those tracks were there, had to be there. He and Tubbo had spent so many nights dreaming of how they’d get away, racing down the rails in a minecart. The angry yells and shouts fading as they raced off into their newest adventure.

They had planned to find a home using those rails.

And they would, Tommy promised himself as he grit his teeth. They would go on that adventure, they would find a home. He would get back to Tubbo, no matter what. All he needed was to figure out how to get back to Borrowton, and perhaps snag some supplies from Techno when he wasn’t looking.

… Maybe that book would come in handy after all.

Not that he had any hope in hell of stealing it, or even really reading it since the book was considerably larger than him, but it was the only chance he had at figuring out where Borrowton was and how he might get there.

It was ironic, to think he had spent so long dreaming about getting away from that hellhole and then ending up stuck in a situation where he needed to do everything he could to get back.

All in the name of Tubbo, of course.

He’d rather spend the rest of his life stuck with the annoying prick known as Technoblade instead of going back to Borrowton if it weren’t for Tubbo.

… He did need a proper plan, though. He had to survive, figure out how to escape the hellish tundra he was in, get supplies for his journey which would probably last several days, and figure out what path he needed to take to reach Borrowton. Plus he’d need to figure out how to sneak in and find Tubbo, too.

So many things… did he even have a chance at completing them all? He could easily freeze to death in the snow, get mauled by some monster, starve, get lost and never reach his destination-

Don’t think about it.

He let out a sigh and placed the bowl down, distantly noticing he had finished his soup. It was nice, tasted like potatoes and something else. Unconsciously, he started rubbing his thumb against the smooth rim of the wooden bowl. All in all, being exiled wasn’t nearly as bad as he thought it was going to be, aside from him missing Tubbo of course. Techno was a bastard, a prick through and through, but he was surprisingly…

Nice wasn’t the word. Less cruel than he thought he would be? He thought back to the discussion with that nerdy librarian and let out a snort. Borrowers and hybrids working together, living together, sounded like a load of crap.

… Even if he was technically doing that just now.

But it wasn’t like there was some mystical force making them act all soft! Like… like they were best friends or something! He and Techno weren’t buddies or allies, they were just stuck together until either Techno got tired of him and kicked him out, or he left.

Nothing more, nothing less.

With both his meal and mental contemplation finished, he stood up and made his way over to the edge of the table, attaching his grappling hook to the end and throwing the rope over the side. He didn’t bother to check on what Techno was doing as he slid down, bowl carefully pinned between his arm and his body, and felt no need to tell the hybrid he was leaving. The last thing he wanted was to piss him off or something.

As he made his way over to the hole in the floor that would lead to his home, he was unaware of the contemplative, glowing red eyes that followed him. Nor did he see how those eyes narrowed as they landed on the bowl he was still carrying.

The next day, Tommy jolted awake as the sound of knocking reverberated through the hollow he lived in. He yelped in surprise and promptly tumbled out of his makeshift bed, a pile of wool and other fabric he had managed to steal from Techno. For a moment he stayed on the floor, looking up at the carved ceiling as he contemplated whether it was worth it to get up or not.

The more trust you gain, the more you can get away with. Work. Take what you can. Find a way back to Tubbo-

Yup, that was enough motivation to get him moving.

Slowly, he pushed himself upright and got ready for whatever Techno had planned for the day. Since it was morning he doubted he’d be acting as bait again, nor did he think he would have to deal with any mobs. Perhaps he would get a chance to relax?

Maybe he might be able to scope out some of the more valuable items Techno had that could help him since he didn’t have to worry about sneaking around as much. Or he could always try and check that book out and see if he could actually move the pages enough to read it.

But before he could even consider doing that, he had to figure out what Techno wanted from him.

It didn’t take long for him to finish freshening up, and soon enough he was quickly making his way back through the tunnels towards one of the few exits he had made. Fortunately, the section of the tunnel that Techno had damaged had been replaced.

Of course, the hybrid had left it up to Tommy to actually carve out the replacement tunnel, which left the whole system feeling pretty disconnected since the walls no longer lined up.

The prick.

Eventually he made his way out of the tunnel, climbed out of the hole in the floor, and walked out into the open. Instinctively he shuddered, hating how exposed he felt. This feeling only increased as he felt the ground shake with each of Techno’s steps. In no time at all, he found himself in the hybrid’s shadow once more, reminded of just how vulnerable he was.

He hated it, hated it so damn much, but he did his best to swallow his fears and not retreat back into the comforting shadows of the shelf.

“So, what’s the plan for today, big man?” Tommy asked, rocking back and forth in place as he stared up, and up, and up, at the hybrid. Damn Techno and his stupid tallness, making his neck hurt with how far up he had to look.

He let out a startled yelp when he was picked up, the back of his shirt pinched yet again as he was moved from the ground and carried over to the crafting table. It took all of his willpower to stop himself from struggling, lest he was dropped, and he felt no small amount of relief when he was put down.

“The fuck was that for?!”

“I didn’t feel like watching you fumble with a rope.”

“Fumble?” Tommy scoffed and flexed his arms. “There ain’t no fumblin’ with manly muscles like these-”

“Are they just for show or do you actually know how to use them, then?”

Well that question definitely caught him off guard. The borrower paused, momentarily uncertain as to how to respond, before he that cocky smile appeared on his face once again. “I’ve won plenty of fights with these bad boys-”

“Great.” He didn’t miss the way Techno rolled his eyes, nor did he miss the heavy sarcasm that laced his voice. “Try this out.”

The item that the hybrid nudged over was… surprising to say the least.

“It’s… a stick.” Tommy blinked as he picked the stick up and looked it over. It was a bit longer than the length of his forearm, and if it weren’t for the lack of a sharpened end he would have assumed it was just a toothpick. “You gave me a stick.”

“It’s for practice, I’m not gonna give you a sharpened one and watch you trip and stab yourself with it.”

“I wouldn’t-practice?” All the anger Tommy felt at the implication of being a clutz, which he absolutely was not, evaporated as what Techno was saying registered. “For what?!”

“Self defense.” Techno shrugged. Upon taking note of the aghast expression on Tommy’s face, he elaborated further. “Not everyone you meet is gonna be as nice as me.”

Especially if I need you to spy on L’Manberg.

“Yeah, like you’re just the shining beacon of goodness.” Tommy scoffed while rolling his eyes.

“Beacon? Paragon has more impact to it. You really need to work on that lexicon of yours, kid-”

“And there you go makin’ up words again! Paragon! Lexicon! What’s the next word you’re gonna make up? Ontological?”

“... Tommy, that is a word.”

“Your mum’s a word, and that word is bitch!”

“Are you going to keep throwing a tantrum over the tiny dictionary you call a brain, or are you actually going to listen to me?”

Tommy grumbled and kicked at the ground before sighing and looking up at the hybrid. It was time for him to pay attention, no matter how reluctant he was about this whole practicing thing. “Yeah, so what should I practice, huh?”

“Stabbing me.”

A burst of high pitched, somewhat hysterical laughter escaped the borrower upon hearing Techno’s deadpan response. He slapped a hand over his mouth as he struggled to control his response, not wanting to piss him off further.

What a weird day this was turning out to be.

“You want me… to poke your hand? What the fuck, man.”

“Are you planning on just asking questions or are you going to use those manly muscles of yours?” The narrowing of Techno’s eyes combined with the immense amount of sass in that question told Tommy that his patience was running thin. The borrower quickly nodded and took a step forward.

As the hybrid’s hand stretched out in front of him, fingers uncurling and palm facing upwards, Tommy quietly realized this was the best look at Techno he had ever gotten. Previously, he had only ever really processed snapshots of the hybrid. The long braid, the glowing eyes, the sharp tusks that seemed to shine in the light, everything had only ever been pieces and not the whole.

But now here he was, and his situation felt far more real than it had before.

He could feel the heat radiating off Techno, the natural warmth his body produced reminding Tommy of the furnace he would huddle next to with Tubbo when the weather grew too cold. He could see the scars that littered the hand in front of him, and the callouses that covered the palm and fingers. He could also see the nails, dark in colouration and dangerously sharp, that tipped each digit.

He had been wrong about Techno having dainty hands, and for some reason this realization only made his appreciation for the gift he had been given grow stronger. It was so easy to imagine the hybrid hunched over with a tiny block of wood held in his hands, struggling to carve it and muttering curses when it accidentally broke. How long had he spent working on it-

“Tommy.”

Shit, he’d zoned out.

He could practically feel Techno’s eyes narrowing in disgruntlement, and he immediately looked up and threw his hands into the air in exasperation, nearly conking himself on the head with the stick in the process. “Don’t give me that look! It’s all so… so weird!”

Weird to be doing this! To be so close to someone who could kill me! It’s all wrong!

And yet, it felt right in its own way. The weight of the makeshift weapon in his hands, and the part of him that longed for some shield to hold up. Tommy had always been a fighter, using dirty tricks to get out of dangerous situations while quite literally throwing hands with anyone who threatened him or Tubbo, but this was another kind of fighting entirely.

A style that felt both familiar and alien at the same time.

The hybrid, choosing to not engage with the turmoil visible on the borrower’s face, decided switch tactics. Demonstrations would happen later when he was more settled and less likely to break down in borderline hysterical laughter, the time for basics was now.

For the next several minutes, Techno explained where it was best to attack in order to do the most damage and even disable his opponent for a short period of time. He was… strangely calm, and knowledgeable as he pointed out which parts of his hand were softer than the rest, more vulnerable.

It was unexpected, and Tommy could only ask himself one question.

Why?

Of course, he got no answer, not that he had ever asked the question to begin with. Rather, he just threw himself into practicing the maneuvers he had been shown over and over again, quietly thinking about how helpful they might be.

Tubbo, he might have to fight to get to Tubbo, and if practicing whatever Technoblade taught him would help, he’d do it.

Meanwhile, the hybrid silently studied the borrower as he thought about all that he had learned so far, from the book to his general observations of the kid. There was obviously something else going on with him, from the way he randomly spaced out at times, to that determined look that would sometimes appear on his face. Anger would occasionally appear, too. A kind of anger that Techno was intimately familiar with.

Tommy was expressive, too expressive.

At least that made things easier for him, but it also left him with far more questions than answers. Questions he didn’t really want to ask, but was still curious about.

It was obvious that the borrower had lived somewhere else before he had decided to invade his cabin. According to the book, most borrowers either stuck to a house they stayed in for their entire lives unless they were forced to move, or lived in community settlements. There were also the “wild” ones, but Tommy’s clear lack of any self-preservation instincts made it clear he did not fit in that category, and yet both of the remaining options made little sense as well.

There were no nearby houses nearby that he could have previously lived in, he doubted the kid would have been living in the village without the librarian’s knowledge, and a tundra biome was one of the last places he would expect to encounter a settle of tiny people. So, what had happened that wound up with him being out here in the first place? And why did he care so much?

Ah, the greatest question of all.

Why?

Why was he putting so much effort into this obnoxious kid? Sure he had his reasons, but were those reasons enough to justify the work he was going to have to do. Why had he let Tommy stay instead of throwing him out like he would have done to anyone else, aside from Phil.

Why had he gotten so protective of the kid at the library? It didn’t make sense-

“Look Techno!”

Tommy’s shout snapped Techno out of his thoughts, and the hybrid looked over to see that he was now holding one of the other practice sticks. He grinned and enthusiastically waved them.

“I’ve got two sticks!”

He raised a brow as the borrower started hitting some made up enemy, swinging the sticks through the air and letting out noises that he probably thought were intimidating, but only made Techno quietly laugh to himself. His laughter grew louder when, during one of his more enthusiastic swings, Tommy ended up smacking himself in the face.

“You’re supposed to hit other people with those.”

“Oh fuck off!”

Hours later, Tommy let out a groan as he flopped into his makeshift bed, burying his face into one of the pieces of fabric. The cloth was cool and soft, and he let out a happy little sigh as it helped him cool down. His muscles ached, and he wanted nothing more than to pass out for the next couple days, but his mind was abuzz with thoughts.

Techno was teaching him how to fight and was apparently making him armor. It sounded like such a horrible idea, teaching the person who was practically a pest in your house how to fight back, and it made Tommy wonder why.

Why was he being taught how to fight? Why was he being given weapons and armor? Was there something he needed to keep himself safe from? Someone?

“It’s a good thing I don’t follow laws, then.”

The hybrid’s “retirement”. The amount of weapons and armor Tommy had seen. The potions.

Was… was Techno a criminal? Had he unintentionally put himself in more danger by choosing to stay here? He knew nothing about him other than his dry sense of humour, his aloof personality, and how intimidating he was.

Dammit, this is why he needed Tubbo. Tubbo would have warned him about the possible dangers, discouraged his ideas, and brought reason to his chaotic thoughts.

It was at this moment that Tommy also realized that among the training and sparse breaks, he hadn’t been able to check out the book either.

Fuck.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ah yes, the slow development from “you’re a pain in my ass and I’m only putting up with you for personal gain” to “okay, you might be decent”.

Also, there are many things I'm gonna make Tommy kind of cry over. A bowl of soup is just one of the more out there instances XD

#my story #fanfiction #dream smp #dream smp fic #sleepy bois inc #sleepy bois inc fic #borrower au #dsmp tommy #dsmp techno #borrower!tommy

58 notes · View notes

dovechim · 5 years ago

Text

a remedy for mondays 04 (m)

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 (final)

➾ 10.1k

➾ summary: all you wanted was just one day off work. but for that to happen, you need to invent a plausible reason. and then somehow, somewhere along the way, things get out of hand, and now people think you’re having a baby with your co-worker Park Jimin after a one-night stand. confused? join the club.

➾ warnings: romantic sex, unprotected/ pregnancy sex, creampie, cum eating... the usuals

➾ a/n: thank you for following through with this series so far. im sorry for the wait, but here is the final part :) I also realised that part 3 was not on my master list, but that has been fixed. I hope everyone is keeping safe during these times.

enjoy, and a happy Monday to you :)

(some people asked to be tagged in this, I think @pjmcth... I and forgot who else 😅)

The first Monday off work, you have grand plans for yourself.

Grand plans that include sleeping in until noon, getting up only to stuff yourself with whatever is left in the kitchen, and then going back to sleep until its dark outside.

It’s your first off day in the longest time that you can remember, and you’ll be damned if you have to move any more than strictly necessary. Finally, it’s time for you to lead the lazy life that you’ve always craved for.

But the best laid plans never come to fruition, and you are left staring miserably at the clock at 7am, wide awake and unable to go back to sleep. Your body clock has been honed after all these years, and it simply will not let you rest. Instead of feeling warm and content, snuggled up in your bed under the covers, you just feel empty and wronged.

Scrolling through social media only delays the inevitable for so long. Looking at all the meaningless memes and watching countless video after video until you finally cry yourself back to sleep again.

When you next wake, it’s noon. You still have the leftovers of the stew that Jimin made the last time he was here, and you spoon it miserably into your mouth after heating it up, but everything tastes like sawdust. The side dishes from Granny are lying untouched in your fridge, and you can’t bear to look at it for a moment longer.

When you lie in bed, you stare at the ceiling motionlessly. Your thoughts are scattered and you can’t help but feel as if your body is not your own anymore. Maybe if you close your eyes, everything will go away when you open them next and this will be just a bad dream.

The first Monday you have without work was supposed to be the best one you’ve had in ages, but instead it passes over in a blur of misery.

The days blur into each other as you cage yourself up in your home, too tired to go out, but too awake to sleep either. It’s only by some primal survival instinct that you keep yourself fed, not to satiate the hunger pangs, but with the lingering consciousness in the back of your mind that whatever is growing inside you at this very moment needs sustenance too, even if you do end up throwing it all up anyway. You’re far too gone to cook anything for yourself, so at this point it’s only Granny’s side dishes that are keeping you alive. What you’ll do when they run out, you have no idea.

You actively avoid thinking about the pea sized bundle of cells growing inside you that very moment. Maybe it’s because you’re scared of having to face a reality where you really might be a single mother, or perhaps it’s because they remind you of a certain man that you loved and lost.

On the third day, your routine of lying in bed is interrupted by a loud and insistent knock on the door that doesn’t go away even when you attempt to ignore it. Dragging yourself to your feet, you pull on a sweater that you pick up from the ground, aware that you haven’t showered or combed your hair in days, but you don’t have any energy to spare in making yourself presentable.

You answer the door, already opening your mouth to tell the delivery person or salesman or whoever that they’ve got the wrong unit.

But it isn’t some stranger. It’s Granny’s kind, smiling face beaming at you as she reaches forward to grasp your hand through the bars of your gate.

“_______!” The way she greets you is as if she hasn’t seen you in years. She looks so happy to see you that it feels as if the whole world brightens up a couple of notches just from her smile alone.

“Gr-Granny! What are you doing here?” Her grip on your hand is warm and reassuring, and she only lets you go for a moment as you move to unlock the gate and usher her in hurriedly.

You’re ashamed at the state of your house. Dirty plates and cups everywhere, empty containers of food dumped in the sink. You are a mess.

But Granny doesn’t say a single word about it as she bustles in, and that’s when you notice that she’s carrying a large bag that she carts over to the kitchen. It’s once again filled with her side dishes, and she stocks all of them into your near empty fridge without a word.

“Granny… that must have been heavy to carry all alone. You shouldn’t have come all the way…” You hesitantly watch her as she organises your fridge for you.

“Nonsense. I only tried that delivery service that one time because all my friends were raving about it. But it turned out to be such a hassle to pack and address everything. I rather do it myself!” She says in a matter of fact tone as she finishes stacking the containers and turns around to face you with a fond smile. “And this way, I get to see how you’re doing too.”

Your eyes brim with tears almost immediately, and you inwardly curse the stupid hormones.

“How did you… how did you know my address?” You watch Granny, and she doesn’t seem to stop moving as she picks up plates, containers and cups, puts them in the sink and wipes down the table counter.

“I squeezed it out from Jimin, of course,” she chuckles at the memory. “Silly boy tried to stop me from coming all the way down here by myself, but when I said I wanted to bring you food…”

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of him.

“But why me? What about Jimin? Shouldn’t you be bringing him food instead of me?” Worse still, the guilt threatens to overwhelm you with how selfless Granny is being, putting you over her grandson when you’ve been nothing but a curse to him.

Granny looks over at you with a confused frown on her face. “What? Jimin? He can take care of himself.” Her kind eyes are smiling as she turns to look at you.

And then it hits you, that she’s only being this nice because she thinks you’re pregnant. A lump forms in your throat as your eyes drop to your midriff. You can’t lead her on any longer. Granny deserves to know the truth, and like Jimin, she shouldn’t have been dragged into this whole mess in the first place.

“Granny… I have something to tell you.”

“Hmm? What is it, Puppy?” Her nickname for Jimin makes your chest ache, and you have to sit down for this. She is scrubbing the dishes at your sink, and the casual, fond way that she gives you his nickname makes what’s coming even worse. God knows you aren’t ready for the impending look of disappointment and anger on her face.

She’ll probably curse you and storm out. Maybe she’ll slap you with the kimchi she brought. Either way, you deserve it.

“Granny, I…” The words are stuck in your throat, and you just can’t find a way to word it. “We lied to you. Back when Jimin and I visited you and your family, and even before that. We… I wasn’t pregnant. We were only pretending to be so that…”

Your voice trails off, and you tire to think of explaining the whole story behind why you even pretended to be pregnant in the first place. You can’t think of a single thing to say that might explain why you deserve her forgiveness.

“I know,” Granny puts down the soapy plate that she was scrubbing. “I didn’t come here to bring you food just because of the baby. Or just because I thought you were pregnant. I came because I wanted to see you, and my silly boy was being so vague and avoiding my questions about you over the phone that I had to come down and see you myself.”

Her response catches you off guard. “Wait, you knew that we were pretending all along?”

Granny only smiles. “Not all along, dear. But when you were at my house, I was packing up the room that the both of you stayed in, and I found your bag of pads and tampons. Now, that wasn’t enough to make any solid conclusions, but combined with the fact that you weren’t showing yet…”

Your shoulders slump. “So you knew. Why didn’t you call us out on it? We were… we lied to you. No, actually, it was me all along. I dragged Jimin into this and made him lie to you. You should hate me, curse me, anything-!”

But Granny doesn’t do any of that. Instead, she approaches you, placing her hand on your shoulder in a warm, reassuring touch. “I could never hate you, Puppy. Not after I’ve seen how much Jimin likes you. You know, he used to be such a shy little thing. But after he met you, I saw how happy you made him. It’s like we all saw a side of him that only you could bring out.”

There is a moment of silence as you digest all this.

“And it’s not just because you made him happy either,” Granny continues. “______, it would be an honour to have you as an addition to my family. Baby or not. We all really like you. You’re strong, you work hard and you’re an intelligent young woman. What more could we want?”

“Granny…” your eyes brim with tears and they spill over, as you clutch her hand, feeling the guilt squeeze your heart over and over. Granny has treated you as part of the family from day one. She saw the good in you even when you couldn’t see it yourself. Her kind eyes and warm embrace makes you feel safe enough to pour everything out to her. The years of mistreatment at your job, all the humiliation that you endured from Bae Joohyun, how you got fired for committing fraud, and the ultimate irony of it all…

“Granny, I messed up. With Jimin. With everything. We said we’d try for a baby for real so that we wouldn’t get in trouble with the company, but they ended up finding out anyway, and now I’m really…” you stop to wipe your cheeks. “Really pregnant.”

A chuckle of disbelief leaves your lips. This is the first time you’ve said the words out loud, instead of just denying it and hoping that it will just go away on its own. You expect Granny to jump for joy or cry with happiness, but instead, she squeezes your hand.

“Does Jimin know?” She asks gently, handing you some tissues and stroking your hair.

Granny’s tender loving touch makes more tears well in your eyes. It’s been forever since you received the love and care that only a maternal figure can provide, and the thought itself reminds you of the tiny little spore that is probably growing inside you at this very moment. Your emotions are just all over the place, and one thought easily snowballs into another.

“No, he doesn’t,” you press the tissue to your damp cheeks, and it soaks through instantly. “I couldn’t tell him… not after everything I put him through. What kind of sick game would I be playing on him?”

Granny only lets you wallow in your ocean of self-pity for a tad longer before she tsks under her breath, straightening up.

“Well, that’s the least of your worries for now. If I were you, sweetheart, I’d think about suing that company of yours. Or at the very least, getting some kind of compensation from them.” Granny’s voice is a no-nonsense one, and it reawakens the rage and indignance that had been drowned out.

She’s right. Being down and feeling sorry for yourself like this is not going to accomplish anything. You’ve never been one to take things lying down, to take the cards as you’re dealt them, but somehow, somewhere along the way after working at this company, you changed. You got beaten down, slowly but surely, and you didn’t even realise it.

Hastily, you wipe your cheeks dry and try to push yourself to your feet. Your movements are fumbling. Where is that notebook with the evidence of all the mistreatments and humiliations you’ve endured over the years? If you’re going to retaliate, might as well mount a full scale attack against those corporate bastards.

But the lack of nutrition over the past few days gets to you, and your vision blacks out for a moment when you stand up, causing you to wobble dangerously on your feet.

Granny sees the look of resolute determination that comes over your face, and she reaches out to steady you. You make a weak attempt at reassuring her that you are alright, taking a few steps forward, but she stops you again.

“Where do you think you’re going, Puppy?”

“To- to get my notebook. And then… I need to get dressed.” Thoughts are racing through your mind of how you’ll storm into the office, fling the doors open with a cup of hot, steaming black coffee in hand and not-so-accidentally-

“You’re not going anywhere,” she says with a firmness in her voice that matches her grip as she forces you to sit back down.

Appalled, you open your mouth to argue back, but Granny shakes her head.

“Not until you’re eating properly and regaining your strength,” she clarifies, pushing up her sleeves once more. “And I’m here to make sure of that.”

The next few days, you’re treated like royalty. Even though you feel bad for making a woman of her age do all the housework, cook you meals with ten side dishes three times a day, Granny won’t have it any other way. Even when you try to sneakily help out with folding a piece of clothing or washing the dishes, all you get are looks of disapproval from the warm old woman, and you feel too bad to keep going.

You’ve never eaten so well before. Chicken, beef, fish, pork. Vegetables of every kind, roasted, stir fried, steamed and blanched, and plenty of fruits too. And along with all that are all the essential pre-natal vitamins that you’ve neglected to take up until now. Granny feeds you better than you could ever feed yourself, and you wonder how you lived without her all these years.

No wonder Jimin turned out so well.

Slowly, the colour begins to reappear in your cheeks. Your hollow, sunken face begins to fill out again, and you find yourself more energetic. Granny looks on with approval as you work at your desk, writing down a long list of everything you’ve ever wanted to say to Bae Joohyun. She listens with a beaming, proud smile on her face as you rehearse your figurative war cry, giving suggestions on where to embellish with more emotion, where to really let them feel the full extent of your wrath.

And on the day itself, she helps you pick out your outfit.

“This one, you look good in this,” Granny says finally, after you have tried on five different outfits.

You look at yourself uncertainly in the mirror, not used to what you see. The light makeup that you had applied for the first time in ages sits unfamiliar on your face. You’d given up on wearing makeup to work a long time ago. Your figure is clad in black from head to toe, dressed in a power suit that you could never bring yourself to wear. You had bought it on impulse years ago when it was on sale, and ever since then it has lived in the back of your closet, waiting to see the light of day. The lapels are made of satin, the suit jacket nips in at your waist snugly (thankfully not toosnugly, considering your current condition) and your legs are somehow longer than you remember them being in the tapered, slim fit dress pants.

Your hands linger on your lower belly for a moment, self-consciously turning to the side to see if it protrudes visibly. But at this stage, it’s barely visible. Then your gaze travels down to your bare feet, and Granny’s voice matches your thoughts.

“You should wear those,” she suggests, pointing to a pair of strappy, low heels that would compliment the outfit, lengthening your legs even more but still providing enough support so that you’ll be comfortable.

But you had something else in mind, and you have to tear your eyes away from the pair of plain old battered flats that you used to wear every day without fail. Similar to the power suit, that pair of heels has been sitting in your cabinet for as long as you can remember, never having the courage to wear it out.

“Women who wear heels with a suit are dressed to kill,” she says by way of explanation, and she sounds so logical that you can’t turn her down.

You bend down to pick up the pair of heels, placing them by the door as you head back to the kitchen, ushered by Granny, to finish the breakfast she made. Today it’s an omelette egg roll and soft tofu soup with pork slices. The egg roll has ketchup squirted on it in a smiley face, and you can’t help but laugh when you see it.

“Granny, I’m not five years old you know,” you pout at her, folding your arms in a gesture that would suggest otherwise. But the following grin on your face as you stuff your mouth with the warm, soft and savoury egg roll is unstoppable.

Granny only laughs as she sits down beside you with her own portion. “You and Jimin are the same. That’s how he likes his ketchup too.”

At the mention of Jimin, your chopsticks freeze in the midst of spearing another egg roll. Your hand shakes a little as you set the utensils down. The thought of running into him only to be faced with his cold look of rejection just chills you to the bone. There’s no way you could stomach that from him.

“What if… what if I see him?” You say in a small voice.

In all your practice runs, you had only gone over what to say to Bae Joohyun and HR. You kept yourself focused on the task ahead, not sparing yourself even a moment to indulge your emotions. But you hadn’t thought of what would happen if you run into Jimin, how you’ll tell him about the baby, or how you’ll make everything right again.

When you start to think about running into Jimin, your mind starts to overthink about what it’ll be like to step foot into that place again. The workplace that you suffered at for years, enduring all sorts of humiliation and injustice just to get to where you are right now. Your breathing involuntarily speeds up- some kind of post-traumatic response, and for a second, you think you might just chicken out of all this.

Just then, your phone placed on the table beside you lights up with a text.

Kim Taehyung: hey… um… i know it’s weird of me to be asking this since u already left us but… Kim Taehyung: if u can, can u come in today? we r rly shorthanded and could use ur help. Kim Taehyung: if it helps, bae joohyun said she’ll buy you a nice lunch if u can come in today. Kim Taehyung: please?

And then just like that, all the feelings of insecurity and cowardice disappear. The nerve of this fucking company. They fire you for fraud and then beg for you to come back and work for them for free? You honestly doubt that Bae Joohyun actually said that, but that’s not the point.

You can almost feel the rage heating up your entire body. Granny takes a look at your screen and tsks under her breath.

“I don’t know what kind of company that is, Puppy, but I’ve never seen one that treats its employees like that.”

Your fingers are trembling as you type back a reply. First, you type out a curt rejection, adrenaline filling your entire body as you imagine what Bae Joohyun’s reaction might be when she learns that for once in your entire miserable career working for her; you turned her down. But there is also a chord of fear that strikes you through the heart, borne out of an ingrained instinct to submit to your inner yes-man in order to please them.

You hesitate before pressing send, taking a moment to compartmentalise your emotions and think this through. There’s a chance that when you get to the office building, you might be turned away by security because you don’t have your access card anymore.

Deleting your entire message, you rack your brains to figure out how to field this situation to your advantage.

Up till now, they still think you’re this pathetic little girl who’d roll belly up to please them at a moment’s notice. They don’t even have the decency to feel a shred of guilt for asking you to come in and work practically for free.

Except you’re not intimidated by them anymore. Now, you are in the position of power.

And this is how you’ll take them down.

Holding your breath, you type out a short reply to Kim Taehyung.

You: I’ll be there at 10.

Granny nods her approval over your shoulder as you put your phone face down, not even bothering to check when Taehyung’s reply comes back.

“You know… I don’t think you’ll have to worry about Jimin. When he sees you dressed like that, he won’t be able to resist. He’ll fall at your feet,” Granny says with a mischievous smirk.

“Granny!” You chide her with a blush heating your cheeks.

“What? It’s true,” she says with a pout that looks oh-so-familiar. “Just be natural, Puppy. Say whatever that comes to mind. That silly boy is probably dying to see you but is too stubborn to come all the way here. Why, he probably looks a right mess too. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s been crying his heart out the past week.”

You start to open your mouth to contradict her, but all Granny does is push another egg roll into your mouth as she urges you to finish your breakfast. “Eat up, Puppy. You don’t want to be late.”

It’s funny what a change of outfit and shoes can do to a woman. It makes you feel like an entirely different person as you walk into the office building at 10 am on the dot. You’re no longer the meek little employee stuck in a dead-end job who can’t stand up for herself.

No, today you are brave, you are confident, and you are here to give back everything that’s been dealt to you all this while.

Security stops you as you enter. You’re already kind of used to this, since you were never once assigned with your own photo pass in all the time you worked here. Everyday, you had to sign in as a visitor and go through the security checks only for visitors, which more often than not, made you late for work when they hit a snag in the process every now and then. Being made to feel like a visitor at your own workplace does things to a person’s self-esteem, but you grit your teeth and remind yourself that this is the last time you’ll be doing this.

“Who are you here for?” A burly security guard asks you with a stern expression, even though he must have seen your face on a daily basis for the past few years.

“Kim Taehyung.” You say truthfully, and the guard just nods as he waves at you to put your bag through the scanning machine.

Waiting at the other end after having stepped through the metal detecting gates, you scoop up your bag and walk to the elevator. Seeing as it’s past the usual reporting time, it is empty, and your heart pounds in your chest as you watch the numbers go by on the elevator display.

When the doors open, you have composed yourself again, a straight face as you stride towards the doors. You wave your temporary access card and enter, once again struck by the ominous familiarity of the entire place.

Kim Taehyung spots you from his workstation immediately. “______!” He calls out your name in nothing short of a yell, and you fight the urge to cringe, watching as multiple heads turn around to look at you.

Including Park Jimin’s.

Granny was right. He does look a lot worse for wear. He resorts to hiding behind his enormous geek glasses again, blonde hair limp and dull over his forehead, his pretty brown eyes no longer have that warmth anymore. His usually plush, luscious lips are pale, and he looks as if he hasn’t slept in days.

Out of the whole office, even with multiple eyes on you and voices whispering out of curiosity, he is the only one you can look at.

“I’m so glad you could make it!” Kim Taehyung is almost at your side as he spreads his arms in welcome. There is a wide grin across his face, not unlike how he was before. “We really, really need you here.”

Hearing those words makes you break the eye contact with Park Jimin to look at Taehyung. For a moment, you desperately want to believe that those words are true. And it makes you doubt yourself, makes you think that maybe this company isn’t so bad after all, maybe they do treasure you after all. If Taehyung says he needs you, then maybe they really do need you to help them out with a piece of work that no one else can do.

But no. They had years to realise your worth. Why are they only doing it now, after they fired you so unceremoniously?

So you placate him with a bland smile. “Sure. What would you like me to do?”

Taehyung practically skips to his desk. “Ok so we need you to go through some of the brochure material that we’ll be pushing out soon. Just another pair of eyes to make sure that we didn’t miss anything. I know you don’t have your laptop anymore, so you can borrow mine. Oh, and…”

You watch his eyes slide awkwardly to where your old desk used to be. In your absence, they had replaced the smaller desk with a full sized one, currently occupied by someone you don’t recognise.

“…uh, we’ll get you one of the empty meeting rooms to work in,” Taehyung motions for you to follow him, and it’s all you can do not to look in Park Jimin’s direction as you turn away. “You look great, by the way. Hardly recognised you.”

You clear your throat awkwardly as a way of responding as Taehyung sets his laptop on the table for you and plugs it in. He opens the required documents for you as you seat yourself in the hardbacked chair.

“So… here are all the things we need you to look through. Let me know when you’re done, okay? Thanks again, ______!” Taehyung beams at you as he lets himself out of the room.

Left alone, you relax a little. At least things seem to be going your way for now, even the parts you didn’t plan for. Minimizing the word document window, you open Microsoft Outlook and navigate over to Taehyung’s calendar. There, you scroll down to find Bae Joohyun’s calendar and all her appointments and meetings for today.

There. At 11.30am, she has a meeting with the Policy team, with HR in attendance. When you scroll down to the meeting details, you see that Park Jimin has been appointed secretariat for this meeting. You ignore the flutter of nerves that arise at the sight of his name to open up Taehyung’s instant messenger. What you’re doing could really get him in trouble, but then again, a part of you simply doesn’t care. He was complicit in all of this. You have no sympathy for him at all.

You send a quick instant message to one of the Policy team to let them know that the meeting has been cancelled so that you can hijack it for your own purposes. When they reply with an acknowledgement, you sit back in your chair, letting out a sigh of relief before quickly deleting any signs of evidence from his chat log history.

You spend some time going over what you prepared to say when you finally meet the witch, everything from past payrolls where you were underpaid for your overtime work, a draft from a lawyer threatening to sue for illegally divulging your medical information to a doctor’s letter proving your current pregnancy. Everything you need to take that witch on is right here.

A soft, timid knock sounds at the door, and you hurriedly gather everything into a pile and shove it into your bag. Can’t have your plan given away before you’re ready. You expect it to be Taehyung coming to check on your progress, but when the door cracks open, you see a flash of blonde hair, followed by a soft, sweet voice that you missed so much.

“Can I come in?” Jimin asks with his eyes trained on the floor in front of you.

“Come in,” your hands twist together out of nervousness, and you see that Jimin is carrying a cup in his hands as he approaches you.

“I uh… I brought you this. I know you need coffee every day at around this time, so…” Jimin gingerly places the cup on the table without taking a single step forward so that he remains as far away from you as possible. You can see that he is nervous, all the tell-tale signs are there. From the way he keeps running his fingers through his hair to the way he bites his bottom lip and avoids eye contact.

You never really realised it, but you do always go to the pantry at around this time for your before lunch coffee. It gets worse when you realise that Jimin used his cup to make you coffee, and as you stare at his beloved One Piece mug, you have to stop yourself from crying.

Jimin mistakes your silence for something else, and he clears his throat awkwardly as he takes another step backwards. “Well um… let me know if you need anything. I’ll just be… I’ll be outside.”

A part of you wants to call out after him. There are so many things you want to tell him, but before you can gather your scattered wits, he lets himself out of the room.

It’s okay. It’s the wrong timing anyway, you tell yourself in an attempt to calm down and put all thoughts of his sad puppy eyes out of your mind. There will be enough time to talk to him when this is all over. Right now, you have to gear up for the biggest battle of your life.

When 11.30am comes, you shut the lid on Taehyung’s laptop and let yourself out of the room. You know Bae Joohyun always likes to stroll into her meetings exactly 2 minutes late, so you take your time walking to the meeting room. When you are 10 steps away, you see her black clad figure just ahead of you. You watch her push open the meeting door, and you have to consciously fight against back the pulse of intimidation that runs through your entire body. You quicken your steps and push the door open after her.

Just as you’d hoped, the only people in the room are the witch herself, Kim Namjoon from HR, and… Park Jimin as the note taker. He looks surprised to see you in the room as he straightens his posture, eyes widened almost comically in the way that you’ve become all too familiar with.

“What’s this?” Bae Joohyun doesn’t look the least bit bothered, just continues to tap away on her special iPad without even looking up. “Why is she here? Isn’t this meeting with the Policy unit?”

Kim Namjoon looks flustered as he looks at you, gesturing with his chin for you to get out. When you don’t make a single move, he turns back to Bae Joohyun, visibly sweating. “Um… there must be some kind of mistake… _____, we could talk about this later?”

The way his voice rises in a desperate plea only makes the victory even sweeter.

“No. It’s not a mistake. I’m here to dispute the terms of my termination.” You take out your folder of evidence from your bag and drop it on the table. “Of course, we could invite our colleagues from the Policy Unit to sit in on this meeting as well, but something tells me that you won’t want them to hear about what I have to say.”

There is a beat of tense silence as Bae Joohyun contemplates what’s on her iPad screen. She hasn’t looked up even once since you walked into the room. She lets out a soft sigh, as if all this is beneath her and just a waste of her time. Seeing as you aren’t about to get her attention any time soon, you shift your gaze to Kim Namjoon.

“First of all, I would like to bring your attention to the unfair compensation that I have been subject to all these years. According to my calculations, I have yet to be compensated for 136 hours of overtime.” You push a stack of timesheets towards Kim Namjoon’s shocked face. “Time and time again I’ve submitted these, only for them to be rejected.”

Bae Joohyun doesn’t react at all.

“Secondly, I have consulted my lawyer about the illegal release of my medical information. He has advised me to take legal action both against the doctor who allowed my medical information to be leaked, as well as the company itself who illegally utilised the information.”

You pause for a moment to let the words sink in, and at the very same moment, you see Kim Namjoon’s face turn slightly green as he processes the meaning of this.

“Sure, you might be thinking that it’ll be easy to win a lawsuit against an individual like me, being a huge company and all that. But I don’t think it will reflect too well on your organisation as a whole, will it?”

Bae Joohyun blinks once, then taps a few times on her iPad so that the screen goes black. Then, she shifts her gaze to you, her face still unreadable, but you detect a hint of uncertainty in her eyes.

“So? What’s your point?” She folds her arms and addresses you directly.

A good sign. A very good sign.

It’s time for the final blow. You brace yourself with your fists clenched by your side, aware of the mounting tension in the room. Namjoon is practically holding his breath, you can see him shaking in his seat with his eyes darting back and forth between you and Bae Joohyun. Jimin has given up all pretence of typing and hiding behind his laptop, and he is looking at you with nothing short of awe on his face.

You reach in for your last piece of evidence. “You are aware that in this country it is against the law to terminate a pregnant woman without a thorough inquiry? And if a pregnant employee must be dismissed, it has to be based on relevant and objective performance criteria?”

A small raise of her eyebrow as her head nods imperceptibly, but you can see Bae Joohyun’s expression waver.

“Yes… we are well aware of that. It is a policy I have helped to implement,” the witch says with a hint of pride in her voice.

A satisfied smile spreads across your face as you draw out the doctor’s letter. You can hear Jimin’s sharp intake of breath in the otherwise silent room, and the shifting in his seat as he leans his elbows on the table. His mouth is slightly open, but no words are coming out.

“According to this letter, you’ll find that I am currently almost 2 months pregnant. As such, having been terminated whilst pregnant without further inquiry or offer of wage compensation, I am entitled to further legal action against you and the company.”

You toss the letter directly to Bae Joohyun, and it lands heavily in front of her. You can see Jimin’s fingers twitch as his stare burns a hole into the letter, before looking back at you with an unreadable expression on his face. The witch herself lets out another sigh before meeting your eyes, completely ignoring the letter.

“We will look into raising a fair and just inquiry.” Her words are brief, and she casts a sideways glance at Namjoon as she says this, as if this was all his fault to begin with.

Namjoon, on the other hand, rushes to accept the blame. “O-of course! We will ensure that the entire process is as transparent and fair as possible.”

“No need for that,” you say with an indifferent wave of your hand, and the satisfaction grows when the witch herself does a double take.

“What… what exactly do you mean by that?” Bae Joohyun is unable to believe her ears.

Jimin is looking at you as if you just saved the world from total destruction. The admiration in his eyes can’t be hidden as he grins. Namjoon looks sick.

“No need for the inquiry,” you say just to make things clear. “I’m aware of how things are done at this company, and sad to say that it’s anything but fair. I’m quitting. Notice effective immediately. You’ll hear from my lawyer regarding the compensation that I owe for my notice period.”

You reach into your bag for the last envelope, tossing your resignation letter onto the table with a practiced ease. Then, you gather your bag and make your way out the door, Bae Joohyun’s shocked expression burned into your retinas.

It feels like you’re walking away from an explosion like the cool guys do in the movies. For once in your life, you feel like the protagonist of your own movie rather than the side character.

Everyone else in the office is still working quietly, so you escape the office without being pursued further. When you stop to press the lift button, you hear the doors fling open, and a panting Park Jimin appears.

“Wait!” Jimin has his hands on his knees. “Le-let me drive you home.”

His eyes grow desperate as the lift doors open.

You owe him an explanation too. You hold the lift button as you turn towards him. “Will you?”

The drive home is silent up until he parks in front of your apartment. Neither of you make a move.

“2 months?” Jimin finally breaks the silence. “When did you find out?”

“After… after they fired me. They called me with the results from the free checkup. That’s how I found out.”

“So you knew when I called you?” Jimin’s heartbroken voice stabs you right in the gut.

There’s no excuse you could make for yourself. “It- it’s true though. Everything I said.”

“What?” Jimin looks and sounds like a puppy that’s been kicked.

“I did drag you into all of this. It was selfish to use you as my excuse the first time, and I couldn’t let myself go down that road anymore. You made all my Mondays better, but I made yours worse. You don’t deserve this. You deserve so much better than me, than all of this-“

“-but I want this,” Jimin grasps your hand and pulls it to his chest. “I don’t care if it’s selfish. All this while you’ve been assuming that you dragged me into this, that I was the unwilling party all along. But have you ever stopped to consider for one second that I might want this too? With you? That you made my Mondays better too?”

When you take a moment to look at his face, the Park Jimin that you’ve come to know and love over the past few months, the familiarity of him soothes you. The plump cheeks, rounded eyes, and the special smile he always has just for you. And he’s right. Never had you thought that he might want this- because why would he? How could he?

“You want this? But… why?” You are incredulous, unwilling to believe.

“Because I love you. And the thing growing inside you right now,” Jimin lets his emotions get the best of him, all the better to say the words he’s been struggling to say ever since he saw you that morning. And maybe it’s not the most romantic, but it’s filled with sincerity at the very least. “I’m in love with you, rash decisions and all. The day where you dragged me into your mess was the best day of my life. My Mondays have never been the same since.”

You can’t help but laugh aloud at how realistic his confession is. Classic Jimin style, savage as always. At the sound of your laughter, Jimin grins also, slightly shy from just pouring out his feelings like that, but proud of himself all the same.

“Granny knows, you know,” you say in between your laughter. “She knows we were faking it all along. And- oh! She came to visit me, you should come in and say hi to her.”

“What?” His comical gasp only sends you into another laughing fit. “Since when?! You could have told me sooner! She’ll spank me so hard for lying to her…”

“She’s not the only one who’ll be spanking you,” you can’t help but tease him, the opportunity is just too perfect.

“Agh! Don’t talk like that when my Granny is involved!!” Jimin buries his head in his hands in embarrassment.

You tug at his hands, opening your side of the door. “You have to come in, at least! She’ll be so happy to see you. To see us together again. She was the one who helped me with all of this you know.”

You drag a grumbling and still embarrassed Jimin inside, stopping every few seconds to tease him about his red ears and pinch his cheeks.

“Oh come on, Granny won’t be mad when she sees how cute you look. Wait, no. She’ll insist to feed us like there’s no tomorrow. She’ll say you lost your chubby cheeks,” you grin at him as you unlock the door, fully savouring the bubbly feeling in your stomach that makes you feel as if you are floating.

“Isn’t it good, though? It means I lost weight,” Jimin places a hand on his own face, as if to gauge whether his cheeks have slimmed down or not, still fretting over how Granny will react when she sees him.

“No! Of course it’s not good! You shouldn’t be losing any more weight, you’re perfect as is,” you drop your bag at the door and kick off your heels, groaning in relief. “Granny! We’re home!”

“That should be my line,” Jimin mutters under his breath as he braces himself to see Granny. But minutes pass, and he doesn’t see his beloved Granny.

“Hmm? That’s strange. Where did she go? She was just here this morning,” you mumble to yourself, walking towards the kitchen and wondering if she might be too immersed in cooking, but then you spot a scribbled note tacked to your fridge.

I left for Busan already, Puppy. You did well… I’ll leave you two alone. Side dishes in the fridge! Stay safe!

“Oh? Puppy? Why did she write that note to me? How did she know I’d be here?” Jimin is confused as he reads the note from over your shoulder.

You can’t help but smirk at his confusion. “Sorry, but Granny decided that the nickname belongs to me now.”

As Jimin protests with a pout, you can’t help but smile at Granny’s thoughtfulness. Seeing that your thoughts are somewhere else, Jimin rests his chin on your shoulder to demand for your attention like a cute puppy.

You turn to him and your attention is drawn to one of your favourite parts of him- his lips. Noticing that they are still a little dry, you frown and reach inside your pocket, taking out your favourite lip balm.

“Hold still. I’ve wanted to do this since this morning,” you place a hand on his chin and uncap the lip balm, dabbing and swiping it gently across his full lips. Though slightly dry, his lips are so soft and pliable under your touch, and the way he closes his eyes to enjoy your touch has you clenching your thighs together. With every swipe of the lip balm, his bottom lip looks plumper, and you can’t help yourself any longer.

Carelessly tossing aside the lip balm, you chase after his lips with your own, tasting the sweet peach flavour of the lip balm and feeling just how soft and cushiony Park Jimin’s lips are. He makes the cutest surprised little sound, eyes open for a second before he kisses you back with equal fervour.

You make sure to scrape your teeth against his plush bottom lip, fulfilling one of the fantasies you’d been dreaming about since this morning.

When you break away, Park Jimin has a teasing smile on his slightly swollen lips. “I guess that’s an efficient way to put lip balm on for two people.”

“Shut up already,” you say before you start to giggle all over again, and Jimin takes this as an invitation to go in for seconds.

“Since… since Granny said she’d leave us alone… shall we?” Jimin is somehow endearingly shy even though the two of you aren’t strangers to this.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He tugs you into your bedroom eagerly, and on the way, you can’t help but grab a handful of his ass through his dress pants. Park Jimin pretends to be shocked as he turns around, arms around your waist as he makes you sit down on the bed gently.

“That’s sexual harassment, Ms.” His words contradict his actions as he runs his palms down your thighs, fingers dancing up your inner thigh.

“But I like your ass,” you say with a pout, imitating him and the way his cheeks puff up.

“I like yours better,” he says with an unabashed grin. “And I fucking love this suit on you. The moment you walked in this morning… I think Taehyung saw my boner.”

You can’t hide your squeal of embarrassment as you clasp a hand to your mouth, but Park Jimin only grins as he invites himself to undo the button on your pants.

“I said I really liked it… but I’m changing my mind. I want it off, now.” He bids you to lift your hips so that he can peel the pants off your legs, exposing your bare skin. His fingers on your skin makes your temperature skyrocket, and even more so when they tease at the edges of your underwear. He sees the damp patch in the centre, and glances upwards with raised eyebrows. “Are you wet already? I haven’t even done much yet…”

The cute way he glances through his bangs with the slight smirk on his lips makes you feel brazen. “I’m pregnant… I’m always wet these days.”

Park Jimin lets out a sharp exhale as he drags his thumb against the wet patch to feel for himself. You would be embarrassed were he not so clearly turned on by this, demonstrated by the urgency with which he pulls your underwear down and wedges his shoulders between your thighs. Without a single word, he kisses the inner flesh of your thighs, working his way up to where you need him the most.

It’s torture to watch his plush lips get closer and closer to your centre, until they finally envelope your swollen and aching clit. He wraps his lips around them and sucks, thick fingers digging into your inner thighs to keep them spread as he licks up every drop of your arousal. He eats you like a man starved, and your back arches under his ministrations. He gives your poor clit a break as he switches to broad flat licks with his tongue, and everything just becomes so much wetter. You can see that his chin is glistening, but he doesn’t mind in the slightest as he only spreads your legs wider, one thigh on each shoulder.

The lewd position in which you are in, seeing his golden head in between your thighs makes you want him even more. You are aching to feel him, to be closer than physically possible to him.

Jimin satisfies your hunger by introducing two fingers into you, and you whine at the stretch. His fingers have always been so deliciously thick, and he basks in your reaction.

“You like that? Like being filled with my fingers? Tell me how much you like it.” His vulnerable side shows through as he glances up at you while you thread your fingers through his soft hair.

“I missed this… missed you so much,” you voice comes out in a breathless whisper as you clench around him. You glance at him to see how he’s rolled back his sleeves to above the elbow, using his other hand to push his hair back and show off his forehead glistening with sweat and you swear you get a million times wetter at the sight.

“Like what you see baby?” Park Jimin shows off with a cocky little smile, pushing his hair back again just for good measure. He can feel how much wetter you are, and you can bet he’s not going to let this go just like that.

“Good looking bastard,” you swear under your breath as he rubs your clit with his thumb. “I sure hope our baby takes after you.”

“The good-looking part or the cocky part?” Jimin has the nerve to tease you, but you don’t have your wits to answer any more as he flattens his tongue against your clit, driving his fingers inside you just to send you over the edge.

Maybe it’s because you were deprived of his presence for the past week that this orgasm makes you realise how much you were starving for Park Jimin. Your thighs clench around him, shaking with mind numbing pleasure as he continues to thrust his fingers inside you.

He shows you no mercy as he continues to rub your clit slowly, the other hand stroking your inner thigh to soothe you. It’s characteristic of him, getting you used to the overstimulation whilst comforting you at the same time.

You push yourself up on your elbows, seeing the bulge in his dress pants and feeling the impatience fuel your actions. “I want to see you. Why are you still wearing these?”

He is preoccupied with licking the rest of you off his fingers as you struggle with the button on his pants, setting him free and reaching past his underwear to grasp his cock. The feeling of his thick length in your hands ignites a hunger inside you as you stroke him, running your thumb across his tip as he kicks away his pants. His abs tense as you palm his cock, and your mouth waters at the thought of running your tongue across them.

“I can’t wait to see you round and swollen with our baby,” Park Jimin says out of nowhere, his eyes hungry as he pushes your blazer off your shoulders, fingers working magic on the buttons of your shirt. He pushes that off your shoulders as well, eyes feasting on your breasts sitting so prettily in the cups of your bra. “And these. They’ll look so beautiful leaking with milk just for me.”

Jimin undoes your bra with ease, slipping the straps down your shoulders. He drags his thumb across your peaked nipple painfully slowly, then he pinches it sharply, eliciting a cry from you.

“The milk isn’t for you, it’s for our baby,” you remind him with a warning squeeze to his cock, sliding your own thumb through the messy tip.

Jimin meets your eyes with the cutest pout ever. “The baby can share. They’re not getting here for another few months yet.”

How he can look like a kicked puppy with your hands around his cock, you have no idea. The duality of Park Jimin will be the death of you someday. He crawls forward as your hands rid him of his last article of clothing, hungry to touch his bare skin and feel it against your own. Jimin makes sure your head is nestled comfortably against the pillows as he kisses his way down your body to your breasts, taking one nipple into his mouth and sucking, giving you a glimpse of what it would feel like when you do start producing milk later on.

You can feel his cock against your inner thighs as you cradle him with your body, feeling the hardness of his abs against your softer body, the curve of his ass. Jimin is still satisfying himself with sucking on your breasts, licking and teasing you to his heart’s content.

You twitch in response, feeling much more sensitive now that you’re a few months along, but Jimin looks as if he’s enjoying your breasts so much that you don’t have the heart to stop him. His fingers are delicately stroking your lower belly as he worships your breasts, muttering sweet nothings about how perfect you’ll be as the mother of his baby.

“Want your cock, now,” you urge him with your voice and reinforce it with your thighs nudging him into position. You feel the head of his cock blunt against you, and without taking his mouth off your nipple, he positions himself with one hand and enters you with a fluid thrust of his hips. As if he can’t take his mouth off your breasts for one second.

He continues to suck at your breasts as he fucks into you, the stretch of his cock and the welcome burn making you curl your thighs around him. Once he’s certain that you can take it, Park Jimin starts to pound into you with his cock, his rough thrusts contrasting with his gentle sucking and kissing.

He finally lets up with the assault against your breasts, pushing your thighs together and putting them on one shoulder. This suddenly display of strength has you gushing on his cock, and it only strokes his ego even more.

“You like getting fucked like this? Hm?” Jimin punctuates his filthy words with a particularly hard thrust that you can feel all the way to your cervix. “You like getting fucked so much, it was only a matter of time till you got knocked up like this.”

He watches your breasts bounce so deliciously, knowing that it is because of his fucking.

“I love it, fucking love it. Love you,” your reply is disjointed, every thrust of his hips sends his cock so deep inside you. “Want you to keep fucking me.”

“I will, baby don’t worry,” he places one hand on your hip and the other just under your breasts as he buries himself deep. “Give you all the babies you want.”

“Want you to cum inside me, give me all your cum,” you watch as his expression twists in pleasure, his cock twitching inside you as he pulls out almost all the way, only to slam back in. “Fill me up the way you did when you fucked a baby into me. Then I want you to fuck your cum into me.”

“Ahh, fuck,” he swears harshly under his breath, you always know just how to get him. Your cunt is so tight and warm around him, everything is so wet and he’s missed the feeling of you wrapped around him. He holds a tender hand to your lower belly. The thought that you’re giving him a baby, and he gets to be the one to hold you and fuck you and kiss you makes him feel like the luckiest man in the world. “I’ll come so soon.”

“Cum for me baby please,” you play with your nipples, putting on a show for him as he groans, thumb finding your clit as he struggles to hold himself back. “Want to feel your cum inside me. I want to be dripping with your cum.”

Jimin quickens his pace on your clit as his thrusts start to become sloppy, and he throws back his head as his abs tighten. With three more thrusts, he buries himself as deep as possible into your warm cunt, feeling himself unleash ropes of cum into your depths. You can feel how warm and sticky everything is, and the feeling of his cock pulsing inside you sends you into another orgasm as well.

True to his word, Jimin doesn’t pull out immediately, giving you lazy little thrusts to fuck his cum back into you as if the two of you were still trying to get pregnant. It’s the little, silly things that he does- making you prop your hips up, pulling out his cock so slowly and plugging you up with his fingers that makes you fall even deeper in love with this fool.

“I heard cum is good for the cervix if you’re pregnant,” he says by way of explanation as he watches globs of cum escape from your lips. He indulges himself by spreading it a little, before pushing it all inside you. “Softens it so you’ll have an easier birth.”

“Bullshit,” you giggle at him. “Next thing you’ll be telling me is that cum facials make me look younger.”

Jimin frowns indignantly. “I would never say something as ridiculous as that!” He’s never really been into painting your face white with cum, he’d rather save it all for your sweet pussy. “But that cervix one really is true- I read it on the internet!”

Jimin swipes two fingers through the mess that is your pussy, bringing it to his lips for one last suck before he cuddles in beside you. Suddenly, he freezes.

“I wasn’t too rough, was I? I didn’t hurt you?” He runs his hands down your body as if to check for any sore spots.

“It’ll be a while before I’m at that stage- so we should have all the kinky sex now before I’m too fat for you to tie me up,” you reassure him with your hand over his.

Jimin releases a breath against the back of your neck. “Kinky sex hm? I could be down for that.” There is a moment of silence as he draws mindless patterns on your lower belly, and your eyes flutter closed before you hear his soothing voice again. “I’m so excited to see our baby. I want more babies after this. Hey, we should have a gender reveal party. Or a baby shower. For real this time.”

It’s so adorable that he’s so excited about all this. “We should invite Yoongi too. I think they should have popped out their baby by now. I want to put Yeji to shame by being hotter than she was when she was pregnant.”

“Of course baby,” Jimin muffles his laughter into your shoulder. “We’ll do that.”

You hear your phone ping from somewhere far away, and it wakes you up just as you’re about to drift off to sleep. You stir Jimin awake with your elbow and make him fetch your phone for you. With many grumbles about how he better get extra kisses for this, he leaves the bed for a moment, and deposits your phone in your hands before snuggling back under the covers.

You unlock your phone and open your mail app. Your delighted gasp wakes Jimin once more, and he’s wide awake the next moment.

“What is it!? Did the baby kick?” He doesn’t stop to think when he’s alarmed, but it’s adorable.

“It’s too early for that,” you say as you do a double take at the words on your screen. You can feel the smile spreading across your face as you read the email again. Jimin sits up in bed and squints at your phone screen.

“I got a job offer!”

#bts smut #bts #bts park jimin #bts park jimin smut #bts jimin smut #btssmutclub

777 notes · View notes

dirt-cup-draco · 4 years ago

Text

George x Reader- Day Off

Could I please request a post war George x Slytherin!reader where the reader always had a thing for George but never spoke to him because different houses. But she's in Diagon Alley and goes to his shop, and they have a moment and she asks him on a date? And just a lot of fluff. Thanks! @obsessedwithrandomthings

1993 You huffed, blowing a piece of your hair out of your eyes as you strolled down the wide hallway. Your hands were curled tight within the sleeves of your sweater as the chill of the dungeons began to get to you. You’d just come from your common room and you were hoping to steal some hot chocolate from the kitchens before anyone noticed your absence.

It seemed luck wasn’t on your side as you were nearly knocked over by a slender redhead that you recognized all too well. “Watch it Weasley!” You hollered after him as you had to press your hand against the chilling stone wall. You scowled but when he stopped and looked at you, something in his bright eyes tugged hard at your heart.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” He winked at you and you couldn’t fight the blush that spread onto your cheeks. All the while, the twin’s expression lit up and he glided over to you, long legs carrying him to his side far too quickly.

“What’s a Slytherin doing out past curfew?”

“I didn’t know it was any of your business,”

“It’s not, but it might piss off the prefects headed this way,”

At that moment you heard footsteps and voices drifting down the hall. You startled and grabbed the boy’s sleeve so he couldn’t run and leave you to deal with the fall out. “Get me out of this and then I’ll tell you,”

He flashed you a grin, a strand of his longer hair falling down in front of his face and the inexplicable urge to tuck it behind his ear came over you. His eyes were chocolate covered amber and it gave him a constant aura of warmth that you couldn’t deny was helping you stay calm as your prefects drew closer. You’d be put through hell if they were to catch you slipping out. Again.

“Hope you like running,”

“Wha-”

And then the freckled boy you didn’t even know the name of (didn’t all weasleys look the same?) was dragging you away, letting his long legs carry the both of you further than you thought. His fingers were intertwined with yours and you squeezed tightly to keep up with him. You thought for a moment about how his hand completely engulfed yours.

Your moment of wonderment was cut short by the boy stopping all of a sudden even as your legs still carried you forward until you slammed into his back with a small grunt. His hand tightened around yours to make sure that you remained upright.

“S’pose we’re even then,” He mused with a smile you hadn’t seem fade since you’d first seen him.

“Excuse me?” You huffed, brushing the front of your sweater down so the wrinkles faded.

“I bumped into you, now you bump into me. We’re even,” He explained with an impish grin and you snorted.

“That was definitely your fault,”

“Was it? If you hadn’t been so distracted by my clearly handsome features, you wouldn’t have bumped into me,”

“Your back was to me, you don’t know what I was looking at,” You blushed, itching your nose with your sleeve to try and hide it. Thankfully, it was dark.

The redhead only grinned and dropped your hand after you failed to let go first. It was then you realized that he had dragged you to just the place you needed to be. You smiled at the wonderful coincidence. “Thank you for helping me,” You spoke honestly as you both hovered outside of the kitchens. You stuck out your hand. “I’m Y/N”

“George,” He said, engulfing your hand once more to give two strong shakes before returning his hands to his pockets. “You going to tell me what you were up to then?”

“Nosy, aren’t we?” You teased. “I’ll tell you if you’ll join me for a cup of cocoa,”

“Somehow I feel like you’re never going to tell me,” Yet, he followed.

You sat on one of the counters, George directly across from you as he warmed his hands on the mug you’d given him. “I think I have a pretty easy guess about what you were planning on doing,” He smiled over the rim of his cup and you gave him a shy smile back.

“Congratulations on not being completely daft, that’s rare for a gryffindor,” You poked fun.

“Congratulations on not being incorrigible, that’s rare for a slytherin,” He shot back and you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up.

“You’re preaching to the choir,”

You fell into a peaceful silence, drinking the sweet drink and warming up from the cold night. The kitchens held a certain warmth that your house would never hold and it was why you often found yourself here after curfew.

Then, a thought occurred to you. “You know why I’m out past curfew, but I don’t know why you are. Care to share?” With a long sip at your cocoa, you fixed George with a curious stare. He smiled and crossed his lengthy legs on the top of the counter, elbows on his knees and mug set to the side as he peered back at you.

“Me and my twin, Fred- you’ve probably heard of us-” He winked and you snickered, rolling your eyes. “We were playing a prank on filch but we got interrupted halfway through and split up. He’s probably asleep by now, but I ran down to the dungeons and ran into you,”

“You probably wish you were asleep like him,”

George thought for a minute, eyes never leaving yours. “I don’t think so,”

“Why’s that?” You asked and you cursed yourself for how breathy it came out. You took another swallow of your hot drink to cover up your blunder.

“He didn’t get hot chocolate,” George pointed out. He didn’t get to meet a brilliant girl. Is what he wanted to say.

George and you continued to talk until the sun began to rise, a dewy blue light flooded the kitchen. You rubbed your eyes and let out a yawn. “I should be going now,”

“Nice meeting you,” George said honestly, stretching his back after it had been in an odd and cramped position all night. “See you ‘round I hope,”

“I”m sure you will,” You smiled, swatting his hand when he ruffled your hair.

And George did see you after that. But every time he looked your way your eyes darted anywhere else and when he approached, you bolted. Eventually, he gave up. He knew it was a bad idea fancying a Slytherin.

1999

You let your feet guide you through diagon alley, pretending you didn’t have a particular destination in mind. Ollivanders Wand Shop and Potage’s Cauldron Shop passed you and you looked at them with a fondness in your heart. Eeylops Owl Emporium looked as it always did and you stared into the dimly lit windows to find that there were several owls staring back through the bars of their cages. Oh, how excited new students would be to get their very own owl once they began Hogwarts.

You frowned. When would new students be able to roam the shops and experience what you and your peers had for the years that you had spent at Hogwarts? The battle had ended a year and five months ago and you were still reeling.

The loss of your friends weighed heavily on you, as did the absence of your parents. They were wonderful, spoiled you silly as you grew up and loved you with more than they had to give. Unfortunately, they’d been on the wrong side of the war. Their fear of Voldemort kept them under his thumb and they hadn’t believed they’d make it out alive if they’d opposed him.

They were in Azkaban now, despite your best efforts to get their case reviewed. It was a headache and it kept you up far later into the night than you needed to be. It was hard to not be able to see them. Admittedly, you didn’t do much else outside of working, trying to free them, and sleeping. Which was why you’d decided today, you would take a break. It was your day off and you ought to get out of your childhood home.

You were living there while your parents were away, you didn’t want them to come out of Azkaban having lost so much only to realize their home was no longer theirs. You could do this one thing for them, if nothing else. Being home had it’s own negatives. You were surrounded by too many memories, and without your parents there to reminisce it felt bleak and empty.

In comparison, Diagon Alley looked like a dream. The streets weren’t as packed as you’d seen them before. You knew that people were still finding their way back to where they’d been before and you weren’t sure anyone would ever be the same but you hoped that they got there one day.

Finally, you stalled in front of the most colorful shop there was. The stunning red around the windows stood out even more against the warm light that was glowing from the inside out. A caricature of the twin’s similar likeness was built into the frame of the building, the large hand pulling away a top hat to show a surprised mechanical rabbit. You couldn’t help but smile.

It was something the Weasley twins were very good at. Their pranks and jokes, their fireworks and shenanigans, all brought smiles to the faces of those who feared they didn’t have anything to smile about anymore. It was a reminder of better times and a reason to create your own little slice of joy in bleaker days.

The bell above the door jangled as you entered and your ears were filled with a buzzing and popping noise, some music playing throughout the bright store. Their shelves were still stocked to the brim. Some families were scattered throughout, a few couples holding hands as they looked at candies, a group of friends chased each other throughout.

“Looking for anything specific?” Came a voice directly behind and you jumped out of your skin at the shock of it.

“Freddie! How many times have I told you you can’t go scaring guests!” Came the voice you were hoping to hear as he momentarily popped his head from the shelf he was working on arranging neatly. It was much like Fred’s, but softer and smoother around the edges. Fred was large bangs and showy lights during a firework show, George was the smoke and memories that remained when there weren’t anymore to be lit.

“Sorry-?” Fred offered, an apologetic yet playful look on his face. It took you another few seconds to realize he was asking for your name.

“Oh! Y/N,”You offered, cheeks pink.

Fred extended a hand and it was only then you noticed he had a can supporting him. You had heard he’d been gravely injured during the war and you told yourself that’s why you hadn’t visited the shop yet You shook his hand with a firm grip and your eyes went back to his.

“Y/N?” George mimicked, head poking back out as he stared at your back. You had to suppress the shiver that went down your spine.

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” You winked as you spun around to meet the boy you hadn’t been able to get out of your head for the past six years. One thing had changed. He was definitely not a boy anymore.

In a moment you were gathered into a pair of strong arms and you were sure it had been all the quidditch he’d played during school. You grinned and squeezed him back. You weren’t surprised by the affection, it was something you had come to expect from George. Despite your many attempts to avoid him in case he saw how flustered you got in his presence, you’d been observing. He always had a grin on his face, always had his arm around someone’s shoulders.

“It’s been-”

“Six years,” You finished with a hefty sigh as he set you back down onto the floor.

“You know each other?” Fred questioned, eyebrow quirked as his twin stared down at you with clear adoration.

“Uh yeah, she made me hot chocolate,”

“He kept me from getting detention,”

George smiled and ruffled your hair. “He did that too,” You tried to sound put out but you felt lighter than you had in months and it was solely because of his presence and the aura that filled the joke shop.

“So are you looking for anything specific?” George repeated his brother’s question and you shrugged.

“If I said you?” You mumbled, eyes quickly avoiding his as you picked at a loose thread on the end of your sweater.

“I-I” George stammered trying to collect himself as Fred gave him a sly look before disappearing. “I’d be surprised, we didn’t talk much after that day... We didn’t talk at all actually. sort of thought you hated me.”

“The opposite actually,” You blushed. “I just figured you wouldn’t be interested in talking to the odd slytherin girl... Got in my head about it and avoided you every chance I got,”

“I like odd,” George shrugged.

You laughed softly as you looked around the shop. “I’m seeing that now,”

“But I get what you mean, I eventually started avoiding you too. How do you tell the girl you talked to once that you fancied her?” George added and you paused.

“You what?”

George blushed now, the hue coloring his pale cheeks nicely and making his freckles stand out even more. “You were cute, you were funny. I had a good time talking and well Fred has always given me a bad time about falling too fast for someone,”

“I’d be lying to you if I said that I didn’t feel the same way. There wasn’t anyone else I would rather be saved from detention by,”

George smiled and reached out to play with the ends of your hair. “Is there a point to us dwelling in the past?” It wasn’t bitter, it was simply a question that needed to be answered. You’d held it in for too long and now that the world had settled down you were looking to do the same. Dating was hard, you hadn’t had much luck. It might be because every time you made a cup of cocoa you only wanted to share it with one person.

“Um-” You became bashful. It had been so long, you had no clue if George was seeing anyone. You had hoped not, and his friendly greeting gave you hope but that was how he was with everyone. Had his feelings stayed in the past? “What if I say yes?”

George smiled a bit more and twirled your hair around his finger. “Is there something you’re not saying Y/N?” You blushed a deeper shade, lips pursed as you pouted. George Weasley knew damn well what you were trying to get at.

“Do you want to go on a date you git?” You finally decided on and George’s grin got impossibly wider as he let out a laugh that had the patrons staring.

“What if I say yes?” He mimicked and you groaned.

“Actually, I take it back! I forgot how difficult you could be” You turned to leave but George’s hand caught your own and you noticed for the first time that he was missing an ear. You hadn’t heard about him getting injured in the battle... Had it happened before? George coughed in embarrassment and you tore your eyes away.

“If you say yes,” You tried to recover. “Then I’d ask if you wanted to go to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour?”

“It’s September,” George pointed out.

“So that’s a yes?” You hoped for the best, seeing as he hadn’t said no immediately.

“Freddie!” George called out and he got a muffled shout in response. “I’m going on my lunch break,”

“Wait, now!?” You sputtered as George held your hand and let you out of the door.

“We wasted six years, why waste more time?” He had a good point.

You squeezed his hand back and followed. Your day off turned out to be much better than you’d hoped.

#FLUFF #george weasley x reader #george weasley #george x reader #george weasley x slytherin!reader #ask #request

185 notes · View notes

emachinescat · 4 years ago

Text

Sleep Stays as Far

A Tales of Arcadia: Trollhunters Fan-Fiction

By @emachinescat

@febuwhump day 6 - insomnia

Summary: Until Jim became a troll, he never realized how much he took sleeping for granted. And once human again, he finds himself struggling to do the very thing he missed so much. No rest for the weary, and all that. Takes place after my story “Lest Back the Awful Door Should Swing,” though not a direct sequel.

Characters | Pairings: Jim, Claire, Toby, Blinky, Nomura | Jim/Claire

Words: 2,370

TW: None

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, or re-blogging! :)

So my thoughts are:

But sleep stays as far…

For sleeping, like death,

Must be worn without pride,

With a nod from nature,

With a lack of strain,

And a loss of stature.

- From “How to Sleep” by Philip Larkin

It’s strange, isn’t it, how human beings have a tendency to dismiss, or even grow to resent, things that, if taken away, they would miss very dearly?

Jim Lake grew up hearing that old idiom that parents love to impart upon their children crying for that which they don’t have, “The grass is always greener on the other side.” But never did it have more meaning to him than when he was turned into a troll and could no longer do a great number of things he had enjoyed as a human.

Eating normal human food was one, but his tastes changed with his body, and he soon adapted to his strange, newfound tastes. He really missed being able to go out in the sunlight. Walking through doorways without gouging grooves into the wood above with his horns was another.

Sleeping, though, was what he found himself missing the most.

It was funny, he thought wryly as he sat huddled in a corner of the cave he and his fellow travellers were currently occupying - just a month ago, sleep would have been at the very bottom of his to do list. After all, he was a teenager, and what teenager has time for sleep? Especially with his double life, Jim was used to working with very little sleep. And even when he did have a rare night off, he still usually stayed up until the wee hours of the morning playing video games or watching Netflix.

But now, it seemed, sleep wasn’t something he needed. At first he’d been thrilled. He was finally able to stay up all night and not feel like he was trudging through quicksand the day after. As Claire was the only one in their party who was human and had to sleep, there were plenty of others to keep him company during the long nights. He trained with Blinky and Nomura, who, as a halfling, only slept about two hours a night, explored the world outside of whatever cave they happened to be staying in, and even played on his phone sometimes when things got quiet just before dawn.

Eventually, though, he found himself distancing from his trollish friends and sitting, lost in thought, most nights. Sometimes he would watch Claire sleep - not in a creepy way, just remembering what it was like to be able to curl up under a blanket and let the world fade away for a bit.

He’d had his battles with sleep before, and for a while, first after he’d returned from the Darklands, broken in so many ways, and then later, after healing wounds had been torn open by his arrest and forced journey into The Deep. For weeks after these occurrences, he had been terrified to let sleep claim him, as nightmares haunted his mind, throwing him back into the Darklands, into a cage, into a pit.

Time had passed, and he, with the help of his friends, had slowly begun to heal, and eventually, sleep became more of an escape from the stress and fatigue of trying to save the world from Eternal Darkness. He missed the way that he had been able to let go and just rest his mind and thoughts, even if the odd nightmare did show up and spoil his peace from time to time. Now, there was no release from the thoughts and fears and conflicting emotions swirling around inside of his head.

Once, he had tried to lie down, close his eyes, and just try to drift off. It hadn’t worked, and he’d spent the entire night tossing and turning endlessly, and by the time he sensed dawn slithering its burning tendrils through the opening of the cave, he was ready to slam his head through a wall.

He’d also tried talking to his friends about it.

Claire was sympathetic, but it was clear that she didn’t understand his dilemma. To her, an over-achiever who seemed to never have enough time to get everything she needed done, not having to sleep sounded like a dream come true.

Blinky frowned and began to wax philosophical about sleep being an abstract construct, and how it has often been believed to be a gateway between realities, and then got distracted by quoting the famous soliloquy from Hamlet (“to sleep, perchance, to dream”).

He had hoped that he’d have better luck with Nomura, especially since talking to her had largely been what had gotten him through the trauma of the Darklands (and since she was a changeling and still needed a bit of sleep herself). She listened to his complaints, a slight frown on her face, green eyes studying him seriously. After he’d finished speaking, she’d contemplated his words, and Jim was sure she was about to say something wise or even fractionally helpful. Instead, she just growled, “I don’t get it.”

Tonight was worse than most. It had been a rough day, physically taxing, and his mind kept whirling in so many directions he felt as if he were being pulled apart. He missed his mom. He missed his bed and his old life and being able to feel the sun on his skin, and he was tired of seeing the unfamiliar, trollish face blink back at him every time he saw his reflection. He missed hanging out with Toby and Arrrggghh, missed eating fast food and cooking and even going to school.

And he was forced to trudge, wide-awake, through it all, with no rest from his thoughts, and it made him angry, and pulled at the aching hole that had been festering in his chest since the moment he’d become a troll.

***

Another sleepless night.

This one was the worst yet, though, because somehow - Jim’s mind was even now trying to come to terms with what all had happened - he was human again, after being mortally wounded, frozen in time (which didn’t count as sleep because he had just stopped while encased in the crystal), turned into a full troll, had his mind taken over, and turned to stone. No one could explain exactly how it happened, not Blinky, not Douxie, the latter of whom, to be fair, had been in no shape to really offer his coherent thoughts on the matter after his fall from the clouds.

But did it matter? In the end, here he was, Jim Lake, Jr. once more. Fully human, with a few new scars to add to his collection. He could go outside in the sunlight and fit through doors. He was still reeling from the loss of his amulet - Blinky said he was in a state of shock and that it would hit him soon - but he had gotten to hug his mom with his own arms again.

And now, here he was, back in his own bed, exactly as he had yearned to be so much over the past few months. Jim's whole house was asleep, Toby and Claire were back home, probably asleep right now, too, and Douxie should be passed out from the muscle relaxers Jim’s mom had prescribed him.

Everyone was sleeping. Jim had been dreaming of sleeping for weeks. Now that he had the ability to sleep once more, even though his eyes burned in exhaustion, he found that sleep evaded him just as it had done when he was a troll.

It wasn’t that he had a lot on his mind. He did, but that wasn’t why he couldn’t sleep. He knew what sleeplessness from a cluttered mind felt like, and this wasn’t it. It was like his body had physically forgotten how to fall asleep. Perhaps it had. If so, he was in trouble, because human-Jim needed sleep to survive.

He couldn't get comfortable, no matter how many times he changed position. His body ached with the pains of battle, and the bed was too soft after months spent sleeping on rock. Every little noise - a car passing outside, a distant police siren, the creak of wind through trees - grated on his nerves like someone was dragging fingernails across a chalkboard. Time slunk by, eluding him as much as sleep - at times he was sure it had stopped. Every time he glanced at the clock, it was as if no time at all had passed since he last checked.

By five in the morning, he admitted defeat and heaved his weary body out of bed, all but dragging himself into the shower and standing under the hot water long enough for the bathroom to fill with steam before he started to wash. He felt physically ill from exhaustion, and his head pounded in time with his heart. He’d hoped the shower would wake him up, or put him to sleep - he just wanted out of this limbo.

It did neither, and he left home without eating breakfast, too nauseated to consider eating anything even though human food was one of the things he’d missed out on as a troll. He got on his Vespa and drove off, not knowing where he was going, barely even caring.

***

He ended up at the overlook, the place where he’d first danced with Claire, and where she’d taken him for a picnic while stuck in the past. He remembered how it had felt to know he was going to die as soon as he returned to his own time, and how hard it had been to keep that from Claire, whose bright brown eyes had gleamed a future he’d been sure he’d never see.

He flopped down on the dewy grass and savored the feel of the first rays of sun on his face as dawn broke through the night. He knew his clothes would be damp and grass-stained when he got up.

He watched the sun rise over Arcadia, and for the first time since his return home, since he’d become human again, he felt a sliver of peace.

Still, he did not sleep.

***

This is how Claire found him at half past nine. Jim had left a note for his mom, telling her he’d gone out for a ride to clear his head, but he’d forgotten to text Claire to let her know. His phone was still at home on the bathroom sink, where he’d forgotten it.

Claire had known exactly where he was, though, and he saw the concern in her eyes from the moment she stepped out of her Shadow portal. “Jim, your mom was worried about you,” she said matter-of-factly. She moved over to his side and sat down.

“I told her I went out.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t say where or why, and you left your phone. Here.” He took the device she offered him and slowly, painfully propped himself up on his elbows. She studied his face with her lips pressed together in worry. “You look awful.”

Jim chuckled. “Yeah, I don’t feel so hot, either.”

“Did you get any sleep last night?”

Jim laughed again, this time hollowly. “Not a wink.” He scrubbed the back of his hand across his eyes. They felt gritty and prickled like he’d just finished chopping a particularly potent onion. “I don’t get it,” he went on in frustration. “I went without sleep for weeks, and I thought I’d never get a proper night’s rest again. But then - whatever it was - happened, and I’m me again, and I still can’t fall asleep.” A horrible thought occurred to him. “What if being a troll broke something inside of me? What if I never sleep again?” He could hear his voice rising in speed and pitch. “How long can a human go without sleep?”

Claire took one of his hands in one of hers. With her other hand, she cupped the side of his face. He leaned into the touch. “Don’t worry, Jim,” she reassured him. “You’ve just been through a lot. Your entire physiology’s reworked itself so many times that the rest of you is probably still trying to catch up. Plus, you’ve got a lot on your mind.”

“Yeah,” he agreed glumly. He yawned.

“You know,” Claire said suddenly, tone brightening. “Maybe you haven’t been able to sleep because you don’t feel safe yet. After all, you’ve been through so much lately. As a troll, maybe you forgot that humans need to feel safe before they can fall asleep.”

Jim quirked an eyebrow at her. “You seemed to have no trouble falling asleep throughout our travels,” he commented. “In caves and gorges and once in an abandoned shipping container. You couldn’t have felt safe in any of those places, away from home and lying on the hard ground.”

Claire shook her head as if marveling at how dense he was. “There was never a night that I didn’t feel safe, Jim.”

Jim blinked. He was so tired. “Oh yeah,” he realized. “There were tons of trolls guarding you.”

“No, dummy,” Claire sighed, smoothing a stray lock of hair off of his forehead. “I felt safe because I was with you.”

“Oh,” said Jim blankly. Then realization dawned. “I feel safe with you, too.”

“Hold that thought.” She smiled warmly at him, gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and rose to her feet. “I brought something I think you’ll like. Just a sec.” She hurried back to her bike, and he heard her tug something out of the front basket. She returned with a purple and pink checked picnic blanket and together they spread it on the grass and laughed as the wind almost blew it away, off the overlook. They plopped down on it, side by side, in a desperate attempt to keep it from escaping.

***

Two hours later, Toby came looking for his friends and found them on the grassy knoll overlooking Arcadia. They were lying on a blanket underneath a blue, cloud-specked sky with the noon sun keeping watch over them. They were curled up close to one another, wrapped in each other’s arms, fast asleep.

Toby smiled and let them rest.

24 notes · View notes