#may or may not have cried when i got to hear dear patience live but im just a girl and that song destroys me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pradaksj · 4 years ago

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ghostin || part one. (m.)

↳do not repost, translate, or claim as your own.

❧ summary ⟶ ❝Though I wish he were here instead. Don't want that living in your head, he just comes to visit me when I'm dreaming every now and then. ❞

❧ pairing⟶ seokjin/reader

❧ genre⟶ angst, angst, and angst … did i say angst? + a bit of fluff? friends to lovers.

❧ word count ⟶ 20,000+

❧ warnings ⟶ major character death! sad ending. descriptions of grieving process.

❧ a/n ⟶ this is based on both ghostin by ariana grande and the one that got away by katy perry and pluto projector by rex orange county which has a godlike violin instrumental that is a perfect fit for this story. i def recommend listening to the slowed + reverb versions. + i tried to make transitions as clear as possible so please let me know how i did on those :( and lastly ermmm dont stress too much on specific time stamps and ages bc ermmm I just did quick maths for a lot of it LMAO

❧ part of the ⟶ thank u, next series

part 1 || part 2 (final)

2050.

“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear grandma, happy birthday to you!” the sound of multiple claps echo across the room, symbolizing the start of a new year for you.

Today was your 75th birthday celebration and around you were your two grandkids along with your only daughter. It seemed as the years went by, the need for such grand celebrations weren’t as important as they used to be. A simple cutting of the cake surrounded by the people you love being enough to suffice.

“Grandma! You have to blow the candles out!” your youngest grandson eagerly reminds you, ready to blow them out himself if you didn’t take action soon, “and don’t forget to make a wish and don’t tell us or else it won’t come true!”

“Mm,” you smile warmly, gently closing your eyes and puffing a gentle huff of air, your mind blank of any wishes, for you had stopped believing in the magic of wishes a long long time ago.

“Alright, now to cut it … Jia go grab a cutting knife from the block set,” you hear your daughter command your oldest grandchild, who at this moment was clearly too consumed with whatever she had going on in her phone to even bother listening, “Jia!” she finally snaps her head up at the sound of her mother’s voice raising an octave, “How many times do I have to tell you to stop using that phone so much, not only is it rude but we’re celebrating your grandma’s birthday. The least you can do is have the courtesy to turn off your phone.”

She rolls her eyes in response, “Mom, I’m sure grandma doesn’t mind … right grandma?” she flashes you the toothy grin that you were used to seeing whenever she wanted something, knowing she’s always had a special place in your heart as the first grandchild.

All you can do is chuckle softly, feeling too old to entertain and be dragged into the bickering arguments between your daughter and granddaughter. Carefully you get up yourself and grab a cutting knife despite your daughter’s pleas to sit.

“Look at what you’ve made your grandma do Ji—” but before your daughter could continue with her scolding, you raise a hand as a gesture of interrupting.

“I’m old, but I’m not that old Yeojin, getting up to grab a knife isn’t the end of the world for me,” you sigh, “Now let’s stop with all of the bickering and eat some cake.”

It was odd really, growing up you could never exactly picture yourself getting to this age (not that you weren’t ever hoping to), but like any other person you just always pictured yourself being young forever.

It wasn’t until your first gray hair appeared several years ago that it suddenly struck you that you really were actually aging. From there the wrinkles upon your skin grew to be more prevalent and things you had no problem doing when you were in your teenage years began to consume much more energy from you.

And now that you observed yourself in the mirror, here on your 75th birthday, did you realize that life had really gone by in the blink of an eye.

Of course 75 wasn’t too old of an age, but now retired and living under the light supervision of your nearly 50 year old daughter, you had long ago realized that the days of wild adventures and endless partying were long over. In a way it was time to start asking yourself if you had lived a life you could be proud of and if you fulfilled the promise you made over 50 years ago.

Honestly, you were unsure, but before you could dwell on your thoughts for any longer, the sound of an argument going on downstairs catches your attention.

“Hand me the phone Jia!” you hear your daughter’s voice yell across the room as you made your way into the living room.

“I said no! I’m not twelve anymore, you can’t just make me hand you my things whenever you want,” Jia scoffs in return, adamant on her rebellious stance.

“Considering that I’m the one whose paying that phone bill every month, I wouldn’t exactly call it yours little lady,” Yeojin sternly furrows her brows while her hand continued to remain held out, her patience running on a thin line, “Jia if you don’t give me that phone then—”

“What?” she interrupts, challenging whatever her mother was going to say. With your newly profound headache growing by the second, you grab the keys to your small old Toyota, deciding that you weren’t going to be helping handle this on your birthday.

Their voices, which became nothing more than background noise while you grabbed your winter jacket, were brought back to your attention once you were making your way out the door.

“Mom where are you going?” Yeojin asks before you could run off, “It’s raining and you shouldn’t be driving at this hour of night.”

“And why is that?”

“Because Grandma you’re—” Jia suddenly chimes in, “well you’re um—” old, is what you know your granddaughter wants to say, but out of respect chooses not to.

You sigh, “I’m just going to the diner to grab myself a late night snack while you two continue with your useless arguing. Hopefully when I come back, you two will have realized how pointless these arguments are.”

“Mom—” Yeojin begins, but almost as if a lightbulb went off in her head, she suddenly grabs Jia’s phone while she was distracted in watching you leave, “Go with your grandma,” she commands, and Jia’s eyes immediately go wide.

“Hey you can’t just—” Jia’s about to complain until she sees the firm look on her mother’s face, “But—” she glances in your direction, knowing that just like her mom, she wouldn’t feel too good having you out driving this late at night, especially on a rainy day.

“You cried about getting your permit for months, now is the time to put it to use,” Yeojin sends her knowing look, recalling the number of months that Jia would complain about all of her classmates getting either their permits or license’s while she was still stuck taking the bus.

“Ugh,” she groans, “Fine, grandma wait for me in the car,” she ultimately says. After putting on her shoes, Jia begins to make her way out to the car, but not before her mother stops her midway to tell her to “Drive safe.”

“Mom, I know,” she scoffs, “but don’t expect me to spend hours there or something. We’re strictly going for whatever food she wants and back. No way in hell are we dining in.”

To that, Yeojin laughs. There was no way her mother wouldn’t want to dine in, but deciding she’d let Jia figure that out on her own, instead she says, “Well as long as you listen to whatever your grandma has to say to you then I don’t mind what time you come back.”

“That’s if she doesn’t put me to sleep first,” Jia mumbles to herself, but still loud enough for her mother to hear.

One could say, she wasn’t exactly looking forward to spending one on one time with her grandma, not without her phone at least. Of course that didn’t mean she didn’t love her grandma to death because truly she did, but often she found herself halfway asleep whenever she had long conversations with her. The same old endearing “you and your mother need to learn to communicate” or the “back in my day” conversations were quite repetitive.

“Mm, you need to start putting that attitude of yours under control little lady,” Yeojin shakes her head in disapproval, “I understand that your grandma can be a bit…”

“Boring,” Jia completes the sentence for her.

“Tedious,” Yeojin corrects, “at times, but occasionally she has an interesting story to tell here and there,” she chuckles, “so don’t count her out just yet. You may be surprised with whatever story she has prepared to tell.”

And with that all Jia could do was sigh, preparing for the long night ahead.

“Grandma, we’ve been here for like 2 hours now,” Jia complains, staring at you as you ate your BLT sandwich, the sound of both loud and pleased munches coming out of your mouth, “You’re really telling me you’re not full yet?”

With a mouthful of food in your mouth, you shake your head no. It isn’t until you gulp down your food that you’re able to verbally give a response, “You know I’m a slow eater, plus it’s my birthday. You don’t hear me complain on your birthday, do you?”

To that, Jia remained silent. She guessed you had a point, not like there was much left for an elderly lady like you to do. The least she could do was suck up her complaints, and deal with it. It just sucked that whenever she looked up at the wall clock it seemed like time was moving as slow as a snail.

God, how she should’ve somehow managed to take back her phone. It also didn’t help that those “stories” her mom had mentioned weren’t planning on making an appearance tonight because all you did was silently eat your food and stare out the window.

Honestly, Jia hadn’t expected much but it seemed as if today you were even quieter than usual, not even bothering to make the small conversation you usually did, like asking her how school was going or if she had a boyfriend yet (not that she ever responded truthfully). So in short, you were doing absolutely nothing to appease Jia’s boredom.

All Jia could do was tap her nails against the old diner’s table and observe the other late night foodies around you two.

The first person she noticed was a middle aged man who was eating a burger along with a strawberry shake. Based on his tiresome appearance and the hat he wore, she could only assume that he was most likely a trucker who needed to make a pit stop.

The second person she noticed was not a single person, but a group of three. A father, a mother, and their little daughter. The sight of them tugging slightly at her heart strings, reminding her of a time in her childhood before her parents’ divorce. If only she had appreciated those moments a little more while they were happening.

Deciding that she wasn’t in the mood for nostalgic sulking, she instead focused her attention on the last set of people in the diner. A couple, who was only a couple of feet away from you two, seated in one of the booths rather than at a table like Jia and you.

The young man, who Jia assumed was in his mid 20′s, was seated with a woman who was just as good looking as him. The two of them sat facing across from one another rather than besides each other, the serious look on their faces clearly signaling that whatever they were talking about was of importance.

It wasn’t until she took a clearer look at the woman that she realized she was crying, the sounds of her whimpers becoming clearer once she had taken note of the woman’s disheveled appearance. It looked like she had been crying for hours, her hand holding onto the man’s at the center of the table as if begging him to stay…

“Yejin we just can’t be together anymore,” Jia overhears the man say, and it’s only then that she realizes that the woman is begging him to stay.

“Jimin, all I’m asking is why?” she hears the woman plead, her voice sounding weak and defeated, “I just— I just don’t understand—” she manages to stutter the sentence out, “Does it have to do with what you were telling me the other night? About feeling incompenent with your career?”

He vigorously shakes his head no, prepared to deny the accusation, “No—”

But she’s quick to cut him off, “Because if it is,” she squeezes his hand tighter, “I already told you I don’t care. I don’t care if you’re the poorest or richest man on the planet, okay? As long as I’m with you, I just don’t care,” she repeats, “You’re my person Jimin,” the woman, who Jia now identified as Yejin, with whatever energy she had left, forced a small smile to grace upon her lips.

A small smile that spoke nothing but genuine love for the man across from her, but with eyes that were desperately hoping for a small sign that the man in front of her would break, “You’re all I have.”

The man, Jimin, instead of reciprocating the warm gesture, pulls his hands away, forcing himself to be the ultimate bad guy in this story.

This was for the best he reasoned with himself, not for him, but for her.

The woman in front of him who he loved so much that he couldn’t bear the thought of denying her a future where she’d have to worry everyday about what their future held, even if it meant not being with him,

“It’s for that reason that we can’t….” he clears his throat, “After tonight we’ll be nothing more than strangers.” he says in a voice that hid any feeling of despair he felt, saving the emotion for later when he was by himself.

“Please,” her voice breaks, “Jimin please,” a single teardrop falls from her eye, “Our future, it'll be worth it, I promise. Every stupid stubborn inch of it because as long as I’m by your side we’ll get through anything. And when we’re old and gray we’ll laugh about this stupid conversation—”

“Yejin—”

“No,” Yejin shakes her head vigorously, desperately fighting tooth and nail for her boyfriend of 7 years and her childhood friend of even more, the person she thought she’d been through it all with, “I refuse to—”

“Yejin!” he firmly interrupts her before she could continue, unsure of just how much more he could hear, “Look at me.” Fuck Yejin. Don’t do this to me. Just accept it., was all he could think at the moment, “I’m—” for a second he struggles to say the words, struggles to officially shatter the heart that had trusted him enough to show itself completely bare, “I’m doing this for me. I’m choosing me. And I don’t know what else I can say or do for you to realize that,” how disgusting it felt to spew the lies out of his mouth.

And it was once he said those words, that Yejin no longer fought against what was happening. It was then that Jimin knew, she had finally accepted it.

The two sat there in silence for what felt like an eternity, until Yejin grabbed her keys from the table, mustering the courage to be the first one to leave, but not before planting a soft kiss on top of Jimin’s head, a final gesture of good bye.

Jia, who’d witness the whole heartbreaking scene play out in front of her, struggled to tear her eyes away. But it was once she did, that she had noticed she wasn’t the only one who had paid attention to the break up.

Watching the couple, you looked as if you’d seen a ghost, truly at a loss for words. Never did you imagine you’d witness history repeat itself.

A voice breaks you away from your thoughts, “Grandma, are you okay?” Jia warily asks, concerned with why you looked so shocked.

“Oh,” you blink rapidly as if being brought back to reality, “Yeah, it’s just—” you glance at the booth once again, watching the man sulk in his seat.

His head was leaned against the glass window, dazedly looking at the view outside. By now his eyes were puffy, the emotions he had kept bottled in, now manifesting itself in the salty tears that were now silently falling down his face.

And before you could think twice, you grabbed the extra sandwich you had ordered and began to walk towards his booth, Jia following behind with a shocked expression.

“Grandma, what are you doing?!” she asks in a panicky tone, but before she could stop you from doing anything, you were already standing beside the booth the man was in.

The dirty-blonde haired man turns his attention towards the two of you, a worn out expression on his face.

“You seem like you could use this,” you offer him the sandwich with a warm smile on your face, “a young man like you shouldn’t be in such distress, or else you’ll end up with wrinkles like mine,” you try to joke around, an attempt to brighten the mood.

He lets out a forced chuckle, showing you that despite his down mood, he was still a very polite young man through and through.

“You don’t mind if we…” you stare at the seat across from him, signaling that you were hoping to sit.

He looks as if he wants to say no, shyly avoiding eye contact for a moment, unsure of how to reject a kind old woman.

“Oh it’s just that um—” but before he could spew out an excuse, you were already making yourself comfortable in the booth, your granddaughter hesitantly sitting in the spot next to him, still giving you the “What are you doing” eyes.

He feigns an awkward smile, scolding himself for being so timid. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the kind gesture, for any other day he would’ve been more than happy to receive a free BLT sandwich and make conversation with an elder, but tonight … well tonight he just wanted to sulk in his own misery.

“So what is a young man like you doing out here so late at night?” you ask, the closed eye smile on your face causing your wrinkles to protrude.

He remains silent, unsure of what to respond with, “Was that your girlfriend just now who left?” you boldly ask, the phrase “having a filter” clearly not in your dictionary.

“Grandma!” Jia frantically says, “Sir I’m sorry, we’ll leave now,” she forces an awkward laugh, now getting up from the booth, “she can be a bit pushy—”

“She’s my ex now,” he surprisingly answers, catching not only Jia but himself off guard.

You on the other hand remain with a warm sympathetic smile on your face.

Honestly, he wasn’t sure what came over him to be so straightforward. He’d been holding so much in for so long, he figured that maybe it wouldn’t hurt to talk to a random old lady and her granddaughter for a night. Not like he’d ever see them again, right?

Letting out a bitter scoff directed at himself, he continues, “I broke up with her just now Mrs—”

“Ms. y/l/n,” you correct him, “and this is my granddaughter Jia,” you signal to Jia to sit back down, and she watches the two of you with wary eyes, confused by the sudden conversational exchange between the two of you.

Hmm, well she did want to know why he broke up with his girlfriend, so maybe it wouldn’t hurt to just sit and listen for a bit. Shaking his hand, she seats herself once more.

“You don’t seem too happy about your break up, for someone who did the breaking that is…” you lightheartedly comment, secretly analyzing his tense posture. Though relaxing just a bit, it was clear that he still didn’t feel completely comfortable sharing the details of his private life. It wasn’t surprising really, you were nothing more than a stranger. It wasn’t like you expected him to be so open, not right away at least, “you don’t mind me asking why?”

“Because—” he pauses for a moment, trying to find the right words, “we—” he sighs, holding back, “we just weren’t meant to be,” he ultimately says with a small sad smile on his face.

You stare at him for what feels like an eternity, a frown now on your face.

“And what makes you say that?” you ask.

He gulps, the intense stare from both you and Jia now making him nervous, “Because she’s destined for greatness,” he longingly states, “and I was nothing more than an obstacle along the way even if she didn’t realize it,” he looks down at the table, “Because all I want in this world is for her to live a long happy life, a life where she can do anything she pleases whenever she wants, without a worry in the world,” he concludes, now sporting a dull expression.

“You—” you clench your teeth, almost looking at him in disgust, “You stupid boy,” you harshly mumble, but still loud enough for both him and Jia to hear.

“Grandma!” Jia’s eyes widen, taken aback by your sudden rude remark, but all you can do is continue to stare at the man in front of you, a pained expression on your face. Almost as if you wanted to cry.

Jimin on the other hand didn’t know what to make of your words. Was he offended? No, not really. Surprised? Couldn’t say he was. Was it deserved? He’d like to think so. “Look—” he’s about to say something until you interrupt him.

“What about you?” you demand pointedly, “Don’t you care about what you want? What about your happiness?” you feel your upper lip tremble along with a rush of emotions that you were sure you hadn’t felt in years.

Anger. Sadness. Fear.

Everything you had kept bottled in for so long was beginning to make its appearance all because you witnessed this young man break up with his girlfriend.

“Grandma I think we should g—”

“No,” you firmly state, your voice slightly trembling, “I’m not going to let it happen again, I can’t,” a single tear falls from your face as you come into eye contact with the young man. God, he looked so much like him.

Wiping the tear away, you quickly compose yourself, “I’m going to tell the two of you a story,” you point towards the boy, “and you better listen good and well,” you turn to your granddaughter, “you too little lady because it’s a lesson that can be learned by anyone.”

Her face twists to one of skepticism, but she silently nods her head, deciding she wasn’t going to push your buttons for she had never seen you act like this before. Jimin does the same as well, now fearing getting on your wrong side.

“Good,” you let out a deep breath of air, unsure of where to start.

This was the first time in your life that you were telling someone absolutely everything, and never had you imagined it’d be in this exact diner with some random stranger (who you’d just happen to be a first hand witness of his breakup) and your granddaughter.

But a part of you couldn’t help but think that maybe …just maybe it was meant to be this way. That coming to this diner and witnessing what you’d just seen was the universe’s way of telling you that just because your fate was already sealed, didn’t mean you couldn’t change someone else’s. And so you continue, “So I guess…” you pause, “I guess we should start at the beginning.”

“It was the year 1992, Nirvana had just released their all too famous album ‘Nevermind’ months prior to the new year, marking the first shift that we’d see in pop culture during the 90’s. People my age were beginning to slowly throw away their mousse bottles and bright colored outfits and opting in for a more toned down look of mom-jeans and oversized band shirts.

I had just turned 17 at the time and moved here to the city of Gwacheon because of my dad’s job. You wouldn’t believe me but back then this city we know now was a snooze fest. It was nothing but government official buildings and a vacant town center that played outdated music.

I remember being so bitter about moving because like any other teen who moved from one city to another, I had just barely begun to make friends in the city before, only to find out I’d have to leave months later.

I remember having a childish frown on my face the whole ride to the new neighborhood, convinced that by having a fit I’d somehow have my way and go back to the city before, but all in all that’s where the story begins…”

“Mom it’s just not fair!” you complain, crossing your arms while leaning your head against the window, watching as the new town you’d have to learn to call home was nearing with every stop, “I was just beginning to get used to that school, I was even supposed to go on a date!”

Sighing, your mom turns from the passenger's seat to face you, a mix of sympathy and annoyance on her face. It’d been over 4 hours already of hearing you complain in the car, and though your dad had learned to mute you out from the driver’s seat, your mom had to endure each and every complaint.

“Y/N you know your dad’s job requires him to move around from time to time, it’s something out of our control, unless you’re magically going to find him a job out there that pays him as much as his current one then be my guest,” she stares at you knowingly, while you stay silent.

She furrows her brows once she notices something about your appearance, “And what did I tell you about lining your lips like that? And that thing around your neck you’re wearing, you’re lucky it hasn’t suffocat—”

“It’s called a choker and everyone my age wears them mom,” you roll your eyes, wanting this conversation to be over now, despite it being you who started it, “times are changing meaning fashion is too.”

“I thought you kids liked the whole poofy hair and leg warmers kind of stuff. And that one man who's always on MTV,” she twiddles her fingers, trying to remember his name, “you know the one who danced as a zombie in that one video, how does it go again—” she begins to snap her fingers, humming the tune, “cause this is Thriller,” she sings.

“Michael Jackson mom, Michael Jackson,” you answer in annoyance, how the hell did she not know his name?

“Ahh that’s his name,” she laughs, “I’m sorry I’m not so invested in that kind of stuff like you young people are.”

You roll your eyes at this, “Mom I’m sure even grandma knows who Michael Jackson is, you’re just—” but before you could go on any further, the car suddenly comes to a halt.

“And here we are,” your dad finally speaks, an exhausted sigh coming out of his mouth.

The moving truck, which was following right behind you guys had made its stop as well and while your parents immediately stepped out the car to begin attending to the family things, you just looked at your new home in a mix of dismay and surprise. It was definitely a nice home, it’s resemblance to the houses around you being a bit uncanny.

Suddenly, interrupting your deep thinking, your car door opens.

Your mom, who for some reason had a complete 180 turn in attitude, now had an impatient look on her face along with an eyebrow raised. “You’re either going to help your dad take out our things or you’re coming with me to introduce ourselves to the neighbors.”

You stare at her for a moment, thinking to yourself which one you wanted to do. Though still slightly pissed off at your dad for his sudden bomb drop of news that you were all moving, you weren’t exactly in the mood to be social right now, let alone with your new neighbors as it would just ultimately mean having to accept the reality of your situation. “I think I’ll just—”

“Come with me? Great,” your mom answers for you, and you only groan in irritation. You couldn’t say you were shocked as this was only expected from her.

Getting out of the car, you begin to follow her to the next door neighbor’s house on the left side of your new home, your mom having come to the conclusion that the neighbors on the right side must’ve not been home due to the lack of cars in the driveway, “And remember y/n, be nice,” she reminds you, noticing the family SUV parked outside the house, she adds, “and who knows maybe there’s someone your age you can make friends with here.”

You stay silent, not sure if whether finding someone your age living inside the house would be a good or bad thing.

At your last house, there was a girl your exact same age who despite being a very kind person, was just a little too talkative. You’d often randomly find her in your room after learning that your mom let her in because she thought that “that’s what teen girls like to do right? Gossip and cut up some magazines in their room.” Not only would you find yourself getting migraines all the time but you were just too nice to kick her out.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The muffled sound of what you could only assume were kids running around and things being thrown made you mumble “Oh great,” to yourself. If your mom got friendly with the neighbors like she somehow always did, you’d find yourself babysitting these kids sometime in the future for free.

Minutes pass and nothing.

Personally you took that as a sign of ‘do not disturb’ but your mom, being the relentless person she was, knocked one more time.

“Mom clearly they don’t want to—” and of course just as you were about to convince her to leave, the sound of the kids screaming and laughing comes to a sudden halt and the door swings wide open.

There in front of you stood a middle-aged woman, probably near your mom’s age, who had her hair completely disheveled and one of her kids (a little girl) in her arms while the other (a little boy) gripping onto her right leg like a sloth holding onto a branch.

Despite her stressed appearance, there was still a sense of motherly tidiness to her. “Hello,” your mom greets with a grin on her face, “we just came to introduce ourselves as your new next door neighbors,” she sticks her hand out for the woman to shake, “I’m y/m/n.”

The woman, who looks a bit confused at first, suddenly snaps back to reality with a “Ohh” expression on her face remembering that the house aside from her having its “For Sale” sign removed not too long ago.

She’s quick to shake your mom’s hand in return, ��Kim Yerin,” she smiles, “and these are my twins, Minjun and Yeonha. Say hi you two,” she nudges the little girl in her arms who currently had her head rested on her mother’s shoulder while doing the same to the boy wrapped around her leg.

The two, clearly shy in front of strangers, only stare at the two of you with curious eyes, “And this must be your daughter I assume,” the woman faces her attention towards you, who had just been quietly watching the exchange, and waits for you to introduce yourself.

Your face slightly reddens when you feel your mother nudge you, “Y/N,” your introduction comes out as more of a whisper.

“And how old are you?” she curiously asks.

“Just turned seventeen,” you answer, an awkward smile forming on your face.

And as if a lightbulb suddenly went off on her head, a huge grin appears on her face, “You’re my older sons age,” she chuckles, “I don’t know if he’s come back home yet,” she mumbles looking behind her and your nerves begin to rise as you know what she’s about to do, “Seokjin!” she yells loud enough that her voice echoes across the walls of her home, “Give me a moment,” she flashes you two a smile before slightly closing the door, placing her foot in the ridge in order to create a crack so that it wouldn’t be completely closed. “Seokjin!” she calls for her son again, and soon you hear the sound of feet scuffling down the stairs.

“You and that camcorder, we have guests,” you hear her say.

“Say hiiii,” a voice behind the door says and you soon hear the kids giggle.

Yerin opens the door all the way once again, and to your surprise you come to face a tall boy with a camcorder blocking most of his face.

With the lens facing your direction, a whispered “Woah,” then comes out of his mouth. The sound of the lens zooming in causing your eyebrows to furrow in confusion.

“Seokjin,” his mother says more harshly, making him set the camera down and finally reveal his face. And once he did… wow were you surprised.

Though he was sporting what you considered an outdated mullet, the boy was relatively handsome. Currently dressed in a simple black fitted long sleeve shirt and cuffed blue jeans, the young man stuck his hand out for you to shake, a small smile gracing his lips.

“Seokjin but you can call me Jin for short,” he politely introduces himself.

Awkwardly avoiding eye contact, you return the shake, “Y/N.”

“Seokjin, I was just telling y/n here that you two are the same age, maybe you could show her around school this Monday,” she suggests, and your mom is quick to chime in.

“Maybe he can show her around town right now, I’m sure she’d love that, wouldn’t you y/n? That’s if he can of course,” she adds and your eyes widen at the suggestion. Soon it becomes apparent that both you and Jin are feeling flustered at both your mothers’ intrusiveness.

“I d-d—” you stutter.

“Mom…” he begins, his ears reddening. Unbeknownst to you, you’d soon find out that it was something that only occurred whenever he was nervous.

“I’ll even lend you the car this one time,” his mother says, grabbing the keys from the key rack next to door and handing them to him.

A silence momentarily fills the air, awkwardness seeping deep until Mrs. Kim breaks it, “Well go you two! me and Mrs….”

“Y/L/N,” your mom completes for her.

“Will be here drinking tea inside and waiting for you to return,” she gently pushes Jin, who had just put on his Converse, out the door while your mom begins to make her way inside, “And remember to drive safe Seokjin,” she says for a final time before practically slamming the door shut.

The two of you stand there for what feels like forever, staring at anything but each other’s eyes.

“Sorry about that, my mom can be a bit… pushy,” he says, and you want to tell him that it's fine, that your mom is exactly the same, but the words can’t seem to come out. “So…” he mumbles, barely audible to the ear, “Where should we go first?” he asks fiddling with keys in his hands, which only causes you to look at him in confusion. Did he forget you weren’t from here?

“Um…” you say, and slowly he fits the puzzle pieces and realizes what exactly he had asked.

“Oh right,” he awkwardly laughs, scratching the back of his neck as a nervous gesture.

You notice that he’s still holding his camcorder with the other hand, its small red button still glowing, and so out of nowhere you voice the first question that came to your mind.

“Is that thing still recording?” you ask which averts his attention to the grey bulky object in his hand.

“Oh I must’ve forgot to turn it off,” he says, genuinely surprised at his lousy mistake, “My bad,” he adds and you shake your head in a way to say that it was fine. “So … are you hungry?” he kindly asks, and you think to yourself for a moment … the two of you had to go somewhere as it wasn’t like you could just walk right back in and lie.

Gently, you shrug your shoulders, “Yeah I can go for something to eat,” you say, which by now was the longest sentence he’d heard you speak since your introduction to him.

“Great,” he smiles, making his way towards the Hyundai SUV with you following close behind. To your surprise he walks over to your side and opens the door “like a gentleman” before entering the car himself. You mumble a quiet “thank you,” in return.

It’s once he turns on the ignition that you begin to dread the awkwardness inside the car. It wasn’t that you weren’t a social person because truly you were, or at least you always tried to be. You were just never good at initiating conversations first because honestly, who was? The image of your mom immediately came to your mind, but she was different. That lady could spark a conversation with a plant if she really wanted to.

“And here’s the number one song in the country for a third week straight, Emotions by Mariah Carey!” the radio host announces and soon the famous tune begins to play causing Jin to tap his finger against the driving wheel, clearly a fan of the song.

You on the other hand kept your attention on the view outside, noting how boring this town was. From the dull buildings to the empty streets, everything was just so boring. But you couldn’t complain too much, for in a couple of months from now you’d be well off on your way to a college in the city of Seoul, which even though it wasn’t too far from here, it was still much more populated.

“So y/n,” Jin lowers the music down, “where did you move from?” he asks, an attempt at making conversation while driving.

“Buk district in Busan,” you answer in a short and precise manner.

“Oh…” he simply says, “Did you like it over there?”

The delivery of the question causes you to quietly chuckle to yourself, “Yeah I did,” you smile to yourself remembering the friends you had made over there, but almost immediately you remember that any chance of ever seeing them again was long gone, and a frown soon replaces the small smile.

Jin notices the change in facial expression from you, “Well I’m sure you’ll like it around here,” he attempts to comfort you, “I know things may look a little different, hell maybe even a little boring,” he laughs, “but trust me you’ll learn to love this place,” he flashes you a reassuring smile.

To that you could only feign a look of happiness. Not wanting to be a complete asshole, you try and think of something you could ask him, something to spark a conversation like he was trying to.

“It’s Jin right… “ you ask, and to that he nods, “um…” you hum, “how old are your siblings?” you stifly ask, adding an extra comment at the end, “I heard them being pretty um … hyper… before my mom knocked.”

Immediately a smile appears on his face, “Ahh Minjun and Yeonha,” he chuckles, “they’re four but turning five in a couple of months. They’re a handful,” he jokes around, “but we wouldn’t have it any other way,” he says, referring to him and the rest of his family.

“And they’re your only siblings?”

He nods, shrugging while answering, “Yeah, but I always wanted siblings growing up and so to not only get one but two at the same time was pretty cool,” he glances at you, “what about you?”

You nod your head no, “My mom told me that once she had me and dealt with all the sleepless nights due to me crying all the time, that she knew one was enough,” you manage to joke around, the atmosphere in the car now becoming less tense.

“I think my parents thought the same way, but surprises happen,” he laughs, “I mean it’s probably a good thing that I was pretty old when they were born. It meant an extra set of hands to help around the house especially considering my dad’s always working.”

And at the mention of his father you couldn’t help but grow a little curious. He was the only person you hadn’t been introduced to and despite Jin’s mother being an overall gorgeous woman, you assumed that Jin must’ve gotten his most prominent features from his dad as his mother didn’t really resemble him.

“What does he work in?” you continue the flow of the conversation.

“He’s a finance manager for one of the many corporation companies you’ll find around here,” and to that he frowns, “I’m assuming your dad must work in a similar field.”

You look at the window again, “Yeah,” you sigh, “so I guess a lot of people around here work in the business field.”

“I think that’s what causes this place to be a little boring sometimes,” he comments, focusing on the road in front of him, “The lack of creativity,” and by looking at the buildings and overall aura of the town, you understand what he means, “People here already have expectations set on them, and with the pressure of being successful, no one ever really takes the risk of pursuing what they’re really passionate about.”

“Hm,” you hum, unsure of what to add to that, for Jin had hit the nail on its head.

“Butttttt,” he sings, “when you meet people like me you’ll realize not everyone around here is the same,” and with that he piques your curiosity, the car suddenly coming to a halt.

Looking out the window, you notice you’re in front of an old school diner, it’s neon lights currently turned off because of the daylight. Not that it really mattered, as the bright cherry red and blue color painted walls were definitely enough to grab anyone’s attention.

Through the see through glass you notice a group of guys sitting at one of the booths, staring at the two of you as you both exited the car. A mixture of both excitement (which you assumed was directed at Jin) and confusion (which was probably directed on you) on their faces.

“Come on, follow me,” Jin says, leading you inside to the group of boys who looked around your age.

They’re quick to greet Jin, practically shouting his name across the diner. It must’ve been a regular occurrence because none of the waiters even turned to focus their attention on them, “Somehow I knew you guys would be here,” Jin teases.

One of the boys rolls their eyes, “So are you going to introduce us to your new lady friend?” he smiles, and immediately the spotlight is set on you, both you and Jin standing in front of their booth.

“Y/N this is Yoongi,” Jin points at the boy who asked the daring question, “This is Taehyung,” he points at the boy next to him, “and finally this is Namjoon,” he points at the final boy across from them, “You guys this is y/n. She just moved here from Busan.”

“Ahh Busan!” the black haired boy, Taehyung, says excitedly, “I once had a pen pal from there,” he trivially says causing the other boys to laugh.

“Ahh Taehyung and his pen pals,” Yoongi shakes his head, tapping the boys shoulders, “And how did that one out of the many turn out?” he asks in a joking manner, only causing Taehyung to pout, knowing Yoongi was teasing him.

“Hmm,” he groaned, “It’s only been a couple of months without a reply, that doesn’t mean we’re not friends anymore!”

“Yeah Yeah Yeah,” Yoongi rolls his eyes again, scooting to the side to make space for you, “Well don’t just stand there, sit,” he lightly teases, and you glance at Jin as if to confirm if it was okay to do so. He smiles at your shyness, confident that you’d get along with his friends just fine, it’d just take some warming up on your part until then.

Setting his camcorder down on the table, he takes a seat next to Namjoon while you take yours next to Yoongi and Taehyung.

“So y/n,” Namjoon speaks up, “how are you liking it here so far?” But before you can think of a response, Jin answers for you.

“She literally just moved here,” he glances at the clock on the wall, “like an hour ago,” he laughs, “I don’t even think she’s unpacked her stuff.”

“Well don’t expect too much,” Yoongi says, contradicting what Jin had told you earlier, “this place is a snooze fest!” he dramatically adds, only causing Jin to nudge him with his leg from under the table, “Hey it's true, if it weren’t for you guys I’d be dying of boredom all the time.”

“Which is exactly why we need to show y/n the best spots in town to visit and how to have some fun,” Jin declares and to that, the boys shrug, not minding the new addition to their group.

“Well wasn’t that easy,” you think to yourself, it seemed making friends wasn’t as hard as you thought it would be.

“As long as you’re not some kind of party pooper then—”

“Like there's parties in town to even poop at,” Taehyung interrupts causing Yoongi to look at him with a “Huh?” expression making everyone including yourself laugh out loud.

“You do realize it’s not literal—” but before he could continue, Yoongi raises his hand to cover his face, “You and that camera Jin,” and immediately you follow suit, having failed to notice that Jin had turned on his camcorder. Taehyung instead of covering his face, poses by flashing two peace signs, while Namjoon flashed his dimpled smile once the camera was pointed to him.

“Ahh why do you feel the need to record everything?” Yoongi asks, still covering his face.

“You’ll thank me later,” Jin says, “Come on y/n say hiiii,” he begins to near the camera to your face.

“Does he always do this?” you ask his friends around him, and to that they nod.

“He says it’s his practice for becoming a director in the future, but….” Namjoon playfully scoffs, “I don’t see the point in recording absolutely everything.”

“Because I want to make sure when I find the project I want to create, I’ll have all the film I need.” Slowly you take your hands off your face once you notice he wasn’t going to relent anytime soon, “Come on, you know you wanna smileeee,” he sings, and slowly but surely you smile indeed. An awkward one, but a smile nonetheless.

“Well cheers to a new friendship,” Taehyung flashes you his signature boxy smile, raising his milkshake drink in the air, Namjoon and Yoongi imitating the action. You and Seokjin on the other hand create an imaginary motion as if you had drink in your hands, grateful for the blossoming friendship in the making.

“After that first day in Gwacheon, Seokjin along with his friends showed me the best spots in town, whether it was somewhere to eat or somewhere to simply get a good view, they were showing me things that proved the boring town to be different than what it seemed.

Seokjin would especially be eager to show me his favorite spots, always recording my reactions to first time meals or whenever he’d show me a new location. When I’d ask him why, he’d tell me it was because it was like watching a kid eat candy for the first time.

Soon I’d find myself hanging out with him the most, I’m not sure if it was because we were next door neighbors or maybe it was because he was my first friend here, but it wasn’t like I was complaining. It seemed as if with every time we hung out, I was learning something new about him, never a day too dull…”

“You’re not even blowing into it,” Jin complains, watching as you blew air into the Mario game cartridge, your face getting red at your serious effort, “Let me see,” he says, but to that you stubbornly refuse, continuing to blow heavy puffs of air into it.

For the past hour the two of you had been playing his new Mario game on the Nintendo SNES, but out of nowhere the game completely blacked out.

Suspecting that there must have been built-up dust in the cartridge, you took it as your responsibility to blow air into it.

“Fine,” you hiss, passing him the game.

“Ah don’t be like that either,” he teases, squeezing your cheek with his hand.

“Hey!” you cry out and he raises his hands to his defense.

“Sorry I can’t help it,” he laughs, “they’re just so…” he pauses, “squeezable?”

You flip him off, only making him laugh even more, “Just fix the game already,” you mumble, not actually offended, but pretending to be which he of course was used to by now.

Knock. Knock.

“Seokjinnieeee!” the sound of his younger sister’s voice, Yeonha, fills the room. Immediately she goes to tackle him, and Jin (pretending that she was stronger than him) playfully throws himself on the floor only causing her to go into a fit of giggles.

Then out of nowhere you feel tiny arms wrap themselves around your shoulders, “Y/Nieeee,” Minjun blitzes you from behind, a grin now appearing on your face.

With his arms still wrapped around your shoulders, you get up from the floor and begin to run around the room, pretending to be an airplane soaring across the sky.

“Do that too! Do that too!” Yeonha commands Seokjin, forcibly wrapping her arms around his very broad shoulders.

And soon the two of you find yourselves going at “war” with one other, purposely missing each other whenever it’d look like you two would crash as a scare effect for the kids.

By the time you two were all done, you were out of breath and completely exhausted. “Again, again, again!” you hear the two kids squeal, but you were just way too tired to go at it a second time.

Feigning a sad expression on your face, you say, “I’m sorry, I have to be back for dinner soon at my house, but next time I see you I promise you we’ll do that again for you guys.”

Both of the kids, with a saddened expression on their faces, simultaneously go “Aww.” but completely understand, knowing you were never one to falsify your promises.

“Wait you do?” Seokjin asks, completely believing your lie. Glaring at him, you wink at him in a knowing way, and though it takes him a while, he quietly says “Ohh.” once he understands. Scratching the back of his neck, he says, “How bout I walk you out haha,” he innocently smiles with his eyes closed.

“Byeeee Y/N,” the kids say, their attention already on something else.

Waving goodbye, you and Jin make your way downstairs, greeted by his mom, who had used to the time that you two spent playing with kids to make dinner,

“Already leaving Y/N?” she asks when she spots your backpack in your hand, “I made japchae, I’m sure your mom wouldn’t mind you staying for dinner,” she kindly suggests, but you politely nod your head no.

“It’s fine Mrs. Kim,” you say, “I don’t want to lessen the servings any more than I should.”

“You sure I can always—” she’s about to say something until she meets Jin’s expression, which was one of panic. Subtly he was nodding his head in a way to say that she should drop it, not only his ears, but his face becoming red. Softly chuckling to herself, she drops the subject, “Ahh well have a good night y/n.”

“Goodnight Mrs. Kim,” you dismiss yourself, Jin following right behind you as you make your way out the door.

“Whew I sure am tired,” you say once you hear the door behind you close, now standing on his front porch, the sun beginning to set, “We didn’t even get to work on our calculus homework,” you mention, feigning a chuckle.

Jin shrugs, “I doubt we were gonna work on it either way,” he laughs changing the topic, “So y/n um…” he pauses, feeling a lump in his throat form as he nervously rocked back and forth, “I’ve been wanting to ask you something I just don’t know how you’ll react…”

You look at him with a genuine clueless expression on your face. Moments of silence pass before you respond, “Well go on ahead,” you laugh, “you know you can tell me anything,” you smile at him.

And for a moment it feels as if the words can’t come out, the fear of being denied overwhelming the feeling of hope, “Um well…” he gulps, “you know it’s been a couple of months since you moved here and well…” he avoids eye contact with you, “I feel like I see you all the time…” he continues, and for a small second you become scared … Did you do something? Did he no longer ever wanna see you again? With that thought, you feel your stomach drop, “And well I wanted to tell you that I—”

“Oh y/n honey, you forgot your notebook!” Jin’s mom suddenly opens the door, interrupting the moment and catching the both of you by surprise.

Jin immediately shoots his mom a “What are you doing?” look, but it seems like she didn’t catch onto it as she continued having a huge smile on her face. Oh what a kind … oblivious … woman she could be sometimes.

“O-oh,” you stutter, still in a state of surprise at her sudden intrusion, “Um thank you Mrs. Kim, um I should get going!” you awkwardly laugh, “Um I’ll see you at school tomorrow Jin!” you wave goodbye, practically running back to your house. The last thing you hear before closing your own door was the sound of Jin groaning, “Moooom!”

“Ah y/n you made it just in time for dinner,” your own mother greets you, “For a moment I thought you’d spend dinner with the Kims’ for another night,” she teases, causing a ferocious blush to appear on your cheeks.

“What makes you say that?” you mumble while avoiding eye contact, only causing her to send you a knowing look.

Deciding she’d play along with your oblivious act this once, she shrugs, “Hmm I don’t know, maybe because there’s a special someone you like in that house of theirs.”

Your blush deepens.

“Not true,” is all you can muster, “We’re just close friends, that’s all,” you state, but deep down you knew you could only wish for more.

“Mmm well y/n, time is ticking,” she playfully sings, “if you don’t confess soon, who knows when you’ll get the chance once you’re off at college. Just ask your dad, he had to wait 4 years until I came back to our hometown to confess. Isn’t that right y/f/n?” she turns to your dad, who was currently watching Cheers on the television.

Getting up from the couch, he makes his way over to you two, “What’s this about a boy I’m hearing?” he turns on his “Protective Dad” persona.

To that, you roll your eyes, “Dad,” you laugh as he ruffles your hair, placing a kiss to your forehead, “I need to go do my homework,” you announce, needing an excuse to get to your room and out of this conversation.

Your mom narrows her eyes at you, knowing exactly what you were doing but choosing to act dumb about it, “Then what are you doing here young lady, go get to it!” she commands, watching you immediately turn and make your way up the stairs.

“Ah kids these days,” your mom says under her breath, shaking her head in amusement, silently rooting for the two of you.

“I wouldn’t find out that Jin was trying to confess to me that night until a couple of years later in some random conversation, and when I tell you there were several other attempts on both his part and mine to confess, I really mean it. But it was almost as if the universe was waiting for the right moment to let it happen. I just never would’ve thought that the moment would be one so …. unexpected ….”

“So how is he?” you ask Jin’s mother, placing the care basket you made for Jin on his dining table.

“Well you know it is,” she laughs, “no parent really wants to see their kid high off of anesthesia, especially because he’s just been talking complete nonsense for the past hour and refusing to take a nap. But I prefer this than having him walk around with his wisdom teeth aching him.”

You nod your head in understanding, “You don’t mind if I—” and she nods her head yes, understanding what you were insinuating.

“Go for it,” she smiles, “he’ll probably scold me tomorrow for allowing you to see him in that state, but I’m sure he’ll get over it,” she chuckles.

And without a moment of hesitation, you make your way up the stairs and into his room, the first thing you hear is your name being loudly shouted.

“Y/N!” he slurs out your name, his high pitched laughter following right after.

A grin immediately appears on your face as you watch the boy who even though was usually in a joking mood most of the time, now had that same mood heightened because of the anesthesia.

You take a seat on the corner of his bed, “How are you feeling Jin?” you ask, genuinely wanting an answer.

He shoots you a toothy grin and gives you not one, but two thumbs up, “I’m feeling amaaaazinnggg,” he sings, “especially now that you’re here,” he dramatically winks.

You feel your face redden, “This is the effects of the anesthesia,” you tell yourself, not allowing yourself to have false hope.

“Y/N Y/N Y/N,” he hums, “you’re so prettyyyyyy,” he stammers his words, his swollen cheeks making it hard to take him seriously.

“Really? You think?” you go along with him, to which he nods.

“Veryyyyy,” he adds, “too bad I can’t completely see you!” he exclaims, only causing your brow to quirk in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t see you!” he repeats in a sardonic tone, almost as if you were dumb for not understanding. It isn’t until you notice that the bangs of his mullet, which was usually parted, were now prickling at his eyes, probably causing his view of you to be blocked by certain strands of hair.

Laughing to yourself, you grab one of the hairpins you had on and scoot closer to him, carefully clipping his bangs to the side, “Ta da,” you giggle at Jin’s childlike expression, “Now you can see me,” you say.

“Now I can see you,” he repeats in awe, and maybe it was because of the effects of the anesthesia but for some reason you looked much more ethereal than usual. Suddenly, out of nowhere Jin grabs his camera from the bed stand, and you look at him in amazement.

You let out a breath of disbelief, “How is it that even when you’re high off of anesthesia, you still somehow manage to pull out that camera of yours?” you ask him.

“Because y/n, 50 years from now the world needs to know how pretty you areeeee,” he looks at you like a lovestruck fool, his eyes halfway closed as he points the lens in your direction.

“Who would’ve thought that Jin could be such a flirt?” you think to yourself.

“I’m not!” Jin pouts, and it’s only then that you realize you must’ve said the thought out loud, “I’m only flirty with you because I like youuuuu,” he gushes.

“Jin you don’t know what you’re saying,” you blink slowly, not sure whether to believe the words coming out of his mouth.

“Oh but I do!” he barks back like a toddler, “I’ve been trying to confess to you for sooooooo long but I get interrupted EACH. AND. EVERY. TIME,” he complains, and suddenly you feel your heart pound ten times faster, an idiotic smile now forming on your face, “like seriously, every time I get the courage to finally fess up, something just has to happen,” he rambles on, now turning off the camera, something you take note of.

Affectionately, you play with some of the strands of his hair from the back, watching him yawn in the process, “Come on silly boy, I think it’s time for you to sleep,” and surely he does in no time, his soft snores filling the room.

It’s only then that you grab a post-it note from his desk, scribbling something you were sure he’d read the next day. Happily making your way downstairs, excited for what was to come.

That same night when Jin groggily woke up from his nap, he was confused as to why he had a glitter hair pin in his hair, and why his camera had a post-it note attached to it on his wooden desk. Grabbing the camera, he immediately recognized the handwriting.

‘check your footage from yesterday, you can thank me later xx. y/n.’

And it was once he did that he could’ve swore he felt his eyes go as wide as saucers, his mouth gaping completely open. “I-I confessed,” he says to himself, unsure of whether he really believed it or not, “I confessed!” he repeats to himself, this time much more confident and enthusiastic about it.

Deciding he had no time to waste, he quickly ran down his stairs, his mom confusingly staring at him as he began to grab his jacket and shoes, “And where do you think you’re going?” she asks.

“Mom, I confessed!” he excitedly shouts before slamming the door behind him shut, ready to knock on your door.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Oh Jin!” your mother greets him, amused by his swollen right cheek, “What a surprise,” she chuckles.

“Hello Mrs. Y/L/N,” he respectfully greets, “any chance y/n’s here?” he politely asks, hoping you were home.

Based on the excited look on Jin’s face she could only imagine that he had only good news to share, and so she didn’t hesitate to call you down, “Y/N!” she shouts, and as if you were waiting for it, your bedroom door opens without a second even passing.

Quickly you make your way down, your mom already having a sense as to what was going to happen by the excited expression on both of your faces. Closing the door once you made your way out, she immediately presses her ear against it.

“Y/N,” Jin breathes out, “I-I confe-OW,” he loudly groans, completely forgetting about his mouth still being sore from the procedure, only causing you to laugh. Even now the universe was finding ways to delay the inevitable.

“You confessed,” you instead say for him, and he nods excitedly, holding his mouth in pain. But it’s only then that he realizes … just because he confessed didn’t mean you automatically felt the same way.

His face reddens.

Ready to make a dash for it, you grab his hand before he could. A touching smile now on your face, “I like you too,” you say, squeezing his hand in reassurance. And immediately you see the relief wash over him, his tense shoulders relaxing.

“I’d kiss you, but I don’t think I can move my lips,” he manages to mumble out, the sudden jolt of pain minutes earlier now making it hard for him to talk.

You giggle at this, then tippy toeing and placing a peck to his lips, deciding that it’d be enough to satisfy the two of you. And without notice your mom opens the door, making the two of you jump in surprise.

“Awwwww, finally!” she pretends to weep, and you’re quick to furrow your brows.

“Mom!”

“And so that was the exact moment our friendship had officially blossomed into something more… I had officially fallen in love with the boy next door. And so we spent the rest of the school year doing whatever it is high school couples do. The occasional hand holding here and there, the timid kisses, but most importantly… despite there now being a shift in our relationship, we still spoke to one another like the best of friends we were before. Because at the end of the day he was still just the boy next door.

But of course soon we’d find ourselves having to confront the looming topic over our heads … college.”

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The door opens.

“It arrived,” you frantically say to the boy in front of you, an envelope in your hand. He motions for you to come in, his heart now beating as fast as yours.

Sitting down on the dining chair, you watch as he runs up the stairs to his room in order to grab the envelope that had arrived at his house a day prior to yours.

The sealed envelopes, which read ‘Seoul National University” in a big blue font along with its famous logo stamped onto it were now being held by your guys’ jittery fingers.

“When are they getting here?” you ask Jin, who had just seated himself.

Glancing at his watch, he answers, “Any second now,” his foot bounces up and down out of nervousness, “I told them to be here an hour earlier than planned because I knew they’d get here late,” he says, patting himself in the back for his trick.

“Well they need to get here faster,” you complain, tapping your nails against the table.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Finally,” you groan, watching the rest of your friends walk into Jin’s kitchen.

“Sorry we caught traffic,” Taehyung lies, munching on his last fry.

You roll your eyes at the poor attempt, ”You’re such a bad liar,” you say, deciding not to press him any further on the issue. “Let’s just get to opening these things.”

The boys nod, taking a final deep breath in, ready to rip open the envelopes.

“Wait,” Jin suddenly demands, “Let me set the camera,” and immediately he’s met with dramatic eye rolls and groans, but you guys allow him to do so nonetheless. “Okay you guys, remember whatever the results are behind these, we all have to promise ourselves that it won’t change anything. It doesn’t make anyone better than the rest, and we’ll all certainly still be friends in college,” he says and you all nod in agreement, for a moment forgetting that whatever the results were inside your envelopes, you’d all still remain friends no matter what.

“Okay, 1..2...3,” you count down, and at the same time you all pull out your decision letters.

“I got in!” Namjoon yells excitedly.

“Me too!” Taehyung says after him, a grin on his face.

“Holy shit, me too,” Yoongi repeats after him.

“Me as well,” Seokjin says nonchalantly, not exactly caring for his acceptance but more about yours as he immediately turns his attention towards you.

Having watched you stay up late studying for the entrance exams for the past couple of weeks, he knew just how nervous you were about these letters and as both your boyfriend and your friend, he couldn’t help but root for you much more than himself.

But it’s once he sees the saddened expression on your face that he knows …

“Y/N…” Taehyung whispers in sadness.

“I—” you slouch your shoulders, looking away from their gazes, “I didn’t get in,” you murmur, your voice signaling that you were on the verge of crying.

Jin is quick to turn off the camera and goes to wrap his arms around you, placing a soft kiss on top of your head and softly rubbing your back in an effort to comfort you. He sends a look to the boys as if to say he thinks it’d be best for them to leave, for now at least.

They nod in understanding, beginning to make their way out until they hear you say “Wait!” and at an attempt to ease the tension, you try and hide the sadness in your voice, “Congratulations, truly,” you send them a weak smile before they leave, and they send you a small smile in return, sad that their friend didn’t get into the college of their dreams.

“Hey don’t cry,” Jin comforts you, giving you more pecks on top of your head, feeling his heart swell more and more by the second.

“I thought I worked so hard,” you sniffle, the tears slowly falling down your cheeks.

“Hey don’t say that! You did work hard princess,” he scolds you, pulling you into a tight hug and tipping your chin up so that he could look at you properly, a soft look on his face while he brushed your hair away from your face, “That stupid school doesn’t know what they’re missing out on, you hear me?” He squeezes your cheek when you don’t reply, “Heyyyyyyyy, don’t ignore meeee,” he teases, placing a soft kiss on your lips.

All you can do is roll your eyes once you feel your cheeks get hot, damn him and his everlasting effect on you. “My dad’s going to be so disappointed,” you mumble, already dreading the conversation. The sole reason you even wanted to get into that school was to impress him, to make him feel that he didn’t have to worry about your future.

“No he’s not,” Jin states in confidence, and you look at him in curiosity, “because your dad is nothing like mine,” he jokes, reassuring you, “Because I’m sure that for both your mom and dad, as long as you’re happy and pursuing whatever it is you want to, they’ll be more than happy to support you along the way.”

“You think so?” you ask him, a small pout on your lips.

“Ah I know so princess,” he gives you a small comforting smile, “Come on let’s watch a movie and eat some popcorn before you go home. I just bought Goodfellas on VHS the other day,” he says, leading you to the living room, the heavy feeling that had been weighing down your chest, not so heavy anymore.

“And so that night I told my parents the decision SNU had made, and just like Jin said they were completely supportive, not even the slightest disappointed. Luckily, the college that did accept me was not at all far away from Seoul National University meaning Jin and I did not have to worry about a ‘long distance relationship’ because trust me, a long distance relationship in the 90s was even ten times more harder to manage than how you kids have it today with your phones.

Honestly, our first year in college passed by in the blink of an eye. I’m not sure if it's because I was always with Jin and our group of friends running around in a big old city with so many more different things to explore, but by the time we reached our second year, we were beginning to ask ourselves where time was going by…. “

“Cheers to our first year!” you and the boys lift up your drinks of Soju, clinking the bottles as a way of commemorating your first successful year in college.

Laughter fills the air while you all talk about the good and the bad of college, from the nightmare drunk stories to typing last minute essays on a jammed computer inside the library. “To think we were all panicking about how we’d do,” Yoongi says, shaking his head.

“I know, but now we have to start declaring our majors soon,” Taehyung mentions, “I still don’t know whether I want to major in sociology or psychology…”

“Me neither, I’ve been leaning towards linguistics,” Namjoon adds, “What about you y/n?” he asks you.

You think about it for a moment before answering, “Engineering Physics.”

“Woah,” Namjoon looks at you in shock, “Good luck to you,” he jokingly scoffs.

You shrug, a certain glimmer appearing in your eyes as you make eye contact with him, “Don’t you find it interesting? The possibilities of there being more than one universe out there, different dimensions, hell maybe even a parallel universe!” you say in excitement, clearly passionate about the field, “Namjoon there’s probably hundreds of you who like to pick their nose just like you!” you throw in the playful jab, making him flip you off while the rest of the boys laugh their asses off.

“What about you Jin?” Yoongi asks his longtime friend, who for some reason tonight was quieter than usual, something clearly on his mind.

And as if brought back to reality he looks at all you with a surprised expression, “O-oh,” he stutters, “um Business Administration?” he says, unconvinced of his own answer.

Yoongi nods his head, “As expected, as expected. Business does run in the family,” and though you know Yoongi meant no harm in the comment, you couldn’t help but notice how tense Jin got after hearing it, as if it only further killed his mood.

“Hey,” you softly whisper into his ear, grabbing his attention while Yoongi begins to talk about something else, “everything good?”

Immediately his expression softens, and he quietly nods yes, not wanting you to worry. But no matter how well Jin thought he was at hiding emotions like sadness or anger from you, any change in his behavior, albeit small or large, was always obvious to you.

Making a mental note to talk to him later, you subtly keep an eye on him for the rest of night, your mind wondering what it could be.

Jin plays with your loose strands of hair while he watches you soundly sleep, your skin warm and slick with the efforts of your earlier endeavors.

It hadn’t been long since he moved into this apartment with Namjoon, and though you weren’t exactly officially living with them, with the number of mornings he’d wake up to having you beside him, he and Namjoon might as well have considered you their third roommate.

Not like Joon was complaining, the breakfasts he’d wake up to you making completely cancelling out the occasional use of his ear plugs for nights like these…..

Trailing his fingers across your shoulders, he traces the curves of your collarbones, savoring the moment. It wasn’t until he suddenly heard you speak that he realized you weren’t asleep at all, “Can’t sleep?” you ask, opening your eyes.

“Y/N, go to sleep, it’s late,” he mumbles in the darkness.

Ignoring him, you move to make yourself more comfortable, “Something’s bothering you,” you simply state, and that he can’t deny.

“Y/N... “ he’s about to begin, but you weren’t having any of it.

“Seokjin,” you say his full name, something you’d rarely done since you met him, “you know you can tell me,” you reassure, squeezing his hand, “it’s my job to listen,” you add for extra comfort.

And for a moment he looks as if he’s contemplating something, not really accustomed to being the one talking.

Especially because if you were to ask anyone who’s ever known Jin, then they’d tell you they’d almost never seen the man in a bad nor sad mood.

Because for the sake of others, Jin had always been the one to remain cheerful when things were bad, the one to crack jokes even whenever he felt down, the one who liked imitating Mariah Carey’s whistle notes in the car while driving, the person everyone could always rely on whether it be for laughs, advice, or just anything.

It was just who Jin was as a person.

He sighs once he’s made his decision to tell you, “You know how we were talking about declaring majors and stuff tonight?”

Silently, you nod your head, and he sighs again, “Well I was thinking about something the other day…” he pauses, shifting his body to the side, leaning his head against his hand and now completely facing you, “Remember that first conversation we had in my mom’s car the day you moved into town, when I was taking you to diner?” He asks the rhetorical question, continuing with his thoughts, “How I said that people usually have expectations already set on them and with the pressure of being successful, no one ever truly takes the risk of pursuing what they’re passionate about?”

You nod again, wondering where this was going.

“It wasn’t until earlier this month when I revisited that conversation in the midst of everyone talking about declaring majors and their future careers that I realized that really I was just talking about myself,” he sighs, and suddenly everything becomes clearer to you, and a look of understanding becomes apparent on your face.

He gulps before continuing, “For so long I’ve been so scared to seriously pursue directing and the world of entertainment all because of my fear of disappointing my dad because Yoongi’s right … business does run in my family and I don’t know if it’s cause I’m the oldest but there’s always been an expectation set on me. An expectation to be the best. An expectation to be successful.”

Slowly, you begin to run your hands through his hair, allowing him to talk as much as he wanted because you knew this was one of the very rare moments that he was going voice everything he had been thinking for so long.

“And so when I hear people like you or Taehyung or even just classmates talk so passionately about what they wanna do in the future I can’t help but wish I had that same courage to to pursue what I want. I mean hell, look at Yoongi pursuing a career in music and producing. I like business, I do, but it’s just not for me, and now just like how you and the rest of the boys are pursuing your dreams, I wanna pursue mine, no matter what it takes. For the first time in my life I want to be 100% selfish, I want to choose me.”

He remains silent after finishing his little speech, a signal that he now wanted your input. He needed to hear something, anything, for he was tired of bearing the weight of his worries by himself.

Gathering your thoughts, you give him a kiss to the lips before continuing, your heart swelling for the man in front of you, “Jin if you want to pursue your dreams then do it,” you grab his hand and kiss his knuckle, “Because I’m just as sure you’ll be successful in the future, plus it’s better to live a life without regrets than with…” you pause, “But I also don’t think it’d be right if I wasn’t rational with you. You’re gonna have to tell your parents, and it’s also important to know that like any other career there is a risk of not making it because at the end of the day that’s how life works and sometimes things are just out of our control… but the real question is if you’re willing to accept it if it happens…”

Jin breaks away his eye contact with you, your words sadly ringing true, “Hey,” you turn his head with your hand in order to have him face you again, now resting your hand on his cheek, “Everything will be okay,” you reassure, “I’ll be with you every step of the way,” you kiss his other cheek.

To that, he smiles.

“Tomorrow,” he randomly says, only causing you to be confused until he continues, “Tomorrow I’m going home and telling my parents what I wanna do. And you’re coming with me… for moral support that is,” he shoots you a grin, and for a moment your eyes are wide in surprise because well… you certainly weren’t expecting him to do it so soon, “Please?” he pouts, making you roll your eyes playfully.

“Like you have to ask,” you say, tightly wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders and burying your face in the crook of his neck, a good night’s sleep following soon after.

“If only we had known things weren’t going to go down as smoothly as we thought it was…”

“Dad you don’t get it…” Jin pushes his hair back with his hand, a sign that he was stressed.

His dad scoffs, “What’s there not to get? You’re choosing something that’s a complete risk over something that has a future, a guaranteed solid one at that. Let’s be feasible here Seokjin...”

Silently you watch the exchange between father and son. Yeah, the two of you knew that there’d be some backlash to Jin’s decision from his parents (if not only his father) but to be here for over 3 hours now, watching the two go back and forth wasn’t what anyone had expected. Neither side relenting on why the other was wrong. But time was ticking, and soon one would pop, you just hadn’t expected it to be Jin first.

“I just can’t dad!” he shouts, interrupting his dad, his voice echoing across the walls. Momentary silence followed, enough to hear a pin drop fall, “I-I just can’t,” Jin’s voice breaks, his eyes desperately pleading for his dad to just once in his life understand.

A scornful laugh comes out of his dad’s mouth before he exhales a big deep breath, “Okay,” he monotonously states, and for a moment a flicker of hope appears in both Jin’s and your eyes, but as fast as it came, it left even quicker, “You can pursue your little venture into the world or entertainment and directing, but just know I never agreed to paying for a degree in Film, I agreed to one in Business. And so if you really want it that bad, it’s coming out of your pocket,”he declares, shocking everyone in the room.

“Sungjin,” Jin’s mother, who had only watched the exchange like you the whole time, finally speaks up, in just as much as shock as you and Jin. Paying for college out of his pocket? That was almost impossible.

Jin’s father raises his hand, as if to let him continue, “Be grateful I’m still agreeing to pay for that apartment of yours, I’m not cruel enough to let my own son jump from place to place.”

Jin shakes his head, “No,” he says, and you look at him confused, “I’ll pay for my own apartment as well as everything else you help pay for,” with a hardened scowl now on his face he continues, “and I’ll prove you wrong,” he declares.

His father could only look at him with skepticism until his own expression followed his son’s. The two really were two sides of the same coin.

“Come on y/n let’s go,” he scoffs, getting up from his chair and going to kiss his mom on the cheek, you politely (but also awkwardly) dismiss yourself, following him outside and into his car.

“Why the hell did you do that?” you finally ask, one of the many questions you had running in your head, “and how the hell do you plan on paying for everything out of your own pocket?”

“Because y/n,” he runs his hand through his hair, turning on the car in order to let the ignition warm up, “I want to prove him wrong,” he repeats his reasoning from earlier, shrugging his shoulders in the process, “I’ll just pick up extra hours at work, holiday season is starting soon and my manager being the lazy man he is would rather overwork an employee aka me than hire someone new.”

You pout, “Does that mean no more movie nights?” you whine, making him laugh.

“We’ll still have them princess,” he gives you a peck on the cheek, “Just not as frequent that’s all,” he then follows the kiss with a squeeze on the cheek, “meaning we have to savor them more,” he concludes, the two of you well on your way home, a happy couple once in love.

“This …. This is where our story slowly begins to take a bit of shift. It’s where the bright flowers we once held onto so tightly begin to slowly wilt when faced with the real world, where destiny and fate cross roads, creating and molding choices both within and out of our control…”

“Place your tassels to the left...” the students in the arena follow the command. “and congratulations to the new class of 1996!” the chancellor of SNU announces, and soon the sight of graduation caps being thrown left and right follows.

You feel your throat go sore from the amount of cheering you’re doing on the stands, watching as Jin and your group of friends hug in celebration, following with excited waves directed towards you and Jin’s mother along with his siblings.

Jin’s father, who claimed he was too busy with work, wasn’t able to make it, not that it was much of a surprise to anyone. Ever since Jin declared his financial independence from his dad, their relationship wasn’t exactly a favorable one, not that there was ever much to work with.

But in the end Jin understood his father and he understood why he couldn’t be supportive because like any other parent all Jin’s father wanted was to ensure Jin lived a successful life where he wouldn’t have to worry about finances and whether there’d be food on the table albeit it be for only himself or his future family.

The class song, “Fantasy” by Mariah Carey begins to play, and you feel your stomach cramp at laughing so hard because of Jin’s sudden dancing, the boys soon following his movements. You really had to take him to a Mariah Carey concert soon.

“Let’s go meet them in the parking lot,” Jin’s mother shouts over the chaos of people leaving the bleacher stands.

You nod, following her lead, all while helping Minjun and Yeonha (who were now 10) not get lost in the crowd. Once you make it to the parking lot, you find Jin, who had made it there before you all, and immediately you run to hug him, his siblings following suit.

His mom who's holding his famous old camcorder, records the moment, but once Jin spots it, he’s quick to cover his face by nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. “How is it that the person always recording things, hates being recorded?” you chuckle, trying to push him off so that he’d have no choice but to be recorded.

“Mm don’t forget being pictured,” he mumbles, maneuvering you in a way that he could reach the camera in his mom’s hands, tackle her into a big hug and successfully get her to turn off the camera.

“Congratulations my Seokjin,” his mom kisses his cheek, ruffling his hair like she did when he was a kid.

Jin, who ditched the mullet about two years ago, now sported a more clean cut look, resembling a comma in the front while still a little lengthy from the sides. In a way it made him look a bit more youthful, not that he had to worry, for that man truly did not age. You were sure that even now at 21 years of age, Jin was going to look like this for the rest of his life because 4 years ago at age of 17 he looked exactly the same. You could only hope your own genes did the same.

“Thanks mom,” he smiled.

“Now for a picture,” she said while pulling out a Kodak disposable camera from her purse, but before she could even attempt at taking a picture, Jin was already getting into his car.

“Ahh later mom, let’s just go eat for now,” he announces, “The graduation boy is really hungry,” he gives her the puppy dog eyes before entering the car.

She rolls her eyes, “Fine. We’ll meet you two over there,” she says, “Come on you two,” she motions to the two twins to follow her back to her car.

“I still can’t believe you wanna drive all the way out to that old diner in Gwacheon as a way of celebrating your graduation,” you say as Jin reverses out of his parking spot, one hand on the steering wheel while the rest of his body was turned to make sure that no cars were passing.

Once he was safely out of the parking lot, he then replies, “Because y/n, there’s nothing better than a nice BLT sandwich on a Saturday night, don’t you think?”

“They’re not even all that—” you’re about to lecture him until he interrupts.

“Ah Ah ah, I’m the graduation boy,” he pouts while driving, “We went all the way to Itaewon to try that Italian food you wanted so bad when it was your graduation day, and you didn’t hear me complain.”

You narrow your eyes at him, damn him …

“Mm,” you mumble.

“Oh I love this song!” Jin, with his right hand, turns up the volume to the radio, “Californiaaaa loveeee,” he repeats after the robot, the music now blasting in the background as he gets on the highway, now on your way back home.

“Passing” you the imaginary mic in his hand, he expects you to sing with him and for a moment you stare at him with a deadpan look until of course you smile at his foolishness, “California knows how to party,” you sing, passing him the “mic”.

“In the cityyyyy of LA,” he continues along, and it goes like this the whole car ride. The two of you going back and forth singing songs from famous artists such as the Backstreet Boys, Boyz II Men, Radiohead, Nirvana, and of course Jin’s favorite, Miss Mariah Carey.

And just like that the day goes by in the blink of an eye, from eating at the diner with his mom and siblings, to visiting your parents until finally the two of you found yourselves sitting on your porch just like the good old days.

Resting your head against his shoulder, both of you stare at the sky above in silence, the stars out and shining bright tonight.

“We really graduated,” you say in disbelief, breaking the silence. Jin turns his attention to you, a small smile on his face.

“Crazy huh?” he interlocks his hand with yours, kissing the knuckles of it, “Time went by in the blink of an eye, and now we’re officially in the real world. Nothing but a tiny speck in such a large universe, almost like the stars,” he chuckles looking back up to the sky, and you gaze at him with a soft look in your eyes. If only he knew how much brighter he shined compared to them.

“Jin…” you randomly say, “I love you,” and though he’s heard it come out of your mouth many many times before tonight, each and every time he did hear it, his heart swelled the same as the first.

Unlocking his hand from yours, he instead wraps his arm across your shoulder, gently bringing you closer to him, enough that you could even hear the sound of his heart beating. Something that not even a video camera could capture. This was a memory you two would just have to remember on your own when you are both old and grey.

“I love you too princess,” he whispers, “I love you too,” he repeats to himself, “You know, I’ve been thinking these days about our future...” you look up at him from your position, childlike curiosity now shown across your face, “I feel like since we’ve always lived moment to moment since we’ve met, I’ve never really asked you…” he pauses debating whether to ask, “what kind of future do you want?”

Softly chucking, you shrug, “You really wanna hear it?” you ask, and he furrows his brows, almost offended you’d even ask, but rather than scold you he simply nods, “Hmm..” you think for a moment, “I picture us both having successful careers and living in the big city while we’re at our peak, getting married on a whim and occasionally traveling the world in search of an adventure,” you pause, “but when the time comes to finally relax, then I’d want to move back here, to where it’s calm and quiet, buy ourselves a house and maybe we’d even have a kid, just one though,” you emphasize.

He arches his brow, “Just one?” he asks.

You nod your head, “After babysitting your siblings, yes, just one,” you repeat with laughter and he himself can’t help but laugh, “I think a girl preferably, but I wouldn’t be mad at a boy, They would probably take after you in looks,” you add, nudging his shoulder.

He blushes for a moment, before faking smugness and winking at you.

You laugh at his confidence before continuing, “And we’d show them the different places this town has just like how you showed me, enough that they’d want to stay here when they’re older,” Jin notices how your eyes glisten as you talk of a time that felt so far away, “And we’d be a small little happy family, supporting whatever it is that their dream will be. And then we’d grow old and grey, maybe have a couple of grandkids running around, and we’d simply be proud of the life we’ve built together—”

And before you could continue on any further, the feeling of his soft lips placed against yours interrupts you, nothing but passion exchanged in the kiss. It isn’t until you’re both out of breath that you break away, Jin immediately framing his hands over your cheeks, “Promise me?” he asks, and you wrinkle in confusion, “Promise me you’ll live a life you’re proud of?”

“As long as you do the same,” you softly answer in return, and silently he nods, “then let’s do it.”

“If only I knew … If only he had been honest with me that night then maybe things could’ve been talked about right then and there before it got out of control…”

Jin crumples the rejection letter and throws it in the trash, frustrated by yet another rejection letter from a directing internship. Tonight he was visiting his parents for dinner while you were out of town on a trip to Busan with some college friends you’d met your freshman year. Taking the opportunity of being by himself in your guys’ apartment, he shredded the number of rejection letters he’d received from several programs in the past couple of months. Too ashamed to show you them.

Looking at himself in the mirror, he couldn’t but feel frustrated. It’d been a year since the two of you had graduated college, and while your career in engineering physics was going great, he couldn’t say the same about his career in directing. Of course when you’d ask how everything was going, he’d feign a smile and say he was still waiting to hear back, guilty that he was incapable of telling you the truth.

Fixing the yellow unbuttoned dress shirt he was wearing over his plain white t-shirt and striped vest, he combs a hand through his hair one last time before leaving, feeling as if his head was about to explode.

“I made Naengmyun, your favorite,” Jin’s mother sets the bowl of noodles down along with several other sides, making sure her oldest son was eating good tonight. She was also trying to mitigate the awkwardness that was in the air tonight, this being one of the very rare occasions Jin and his father spent time together. Over the last year, things still were still stiff between the two, Jin’s father still clearly not accepting of his career choice.

Jin, who didn’t have much of an appetite, stirred with his noodles, hoping his mother wouldn’t notice.

“So Seokjin…” his mothers begins once she seats herself, “how’s everything been going so far?” she asks, genuinely wanting to know what her son has been up to these days.

Jin, trying not to look too uninterested, gives a simple response, “Um it’s been going good,” he casually says.

She nods, “What about y/n?” she asks, always interested in hearing about you.

At this question, Jin seems to perk up more, this change in behavior not going unnoticed by someone else at the table, “Great,” he says, “she’s currently working at a paid internship for some technical writing company that specializes in space and astronomy,” he continues on, “she really seems to love it.”

A smile appears on his mother’s face, happy to know that you were doing great.

“But what about you?” the voice across the table suddenly asks, and Jin is met with the glare of his father, “you seem to have so much to say about y/n, but so little about yourself,” his dad comments, and Jin could physically feel his stomach drop, his words reminding him of what he just shredded at home not too long ago.

“What do you want me to say?” Jin asks, hiding his nervousness through a monotone voice.

His dad scoffs, “That you’re doing something with your life,” he says a little too harshly, “that you’re not living in the shadow of your girlfriend.”

“Sungj—”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Jin sneers in the same amount of attitude his dad had.

“Seokjin!” his mother shouts, “That’s your father you're speaking to,” she reminds him, believing that the practice of respect should still be something upheld no matter what, “Kids, go to your room,” she tells the twins, and without question they do.

Jin quickly calms himself down, just wanting to leave before this escalated any more, “It means that I told you that business was the way to go, but no you were so adamant on proving me wrong and pursuing your dreams that now you can’t even guarantee yourself an independent future!” his dad spat in return, his voice now raising with every sentence . The bottled feelings from years ago now spilling out... rapidly at that.

“Why is it that with you it’s always business, business, business?” Jin throws his hands in the air, “I mean really that’s all I’ve ever heard from you growing up! Jin you need to be like this, Jin you need to make sure you do this, Jin I need this from you,” he mocks his dad, “I mean really is that all you care about dad? Meeting your expectations? Following your footsteps?”

“I do it because you’re my son Seokjin! My son, who I thought I raised to think critically, to strive for success—”

“You think I’m not trying?” Seokjin shouts, his voice turning hoarse at the end, “You think I wanted to fail? To have to come to the realization that—” he stutters, “that shit’s not going how I planned it?” Jin’s mother feels her eyes brim with tears, “That while my long time girlfriend is on her way to becoming a star in her field that I’m stuck waiting tables with a useless degree in my pocket! Is that what you want me to say, dad? Is that it?”

He remains silent.

“You think I don’t know that I’ve made a mistake? That I don’t wake up with the dread of knowing that I’m not at all good for her? That while she could be with someone who makes just as much money as she does and actually provides for her, she decides to stick with me? The person who can hardly offer her anything?” rather than feeling a weight come off his shoulders, Jin feels an extra burden get added on, almost feeling suffocated.

“Well then I’m sorry dad! I’m sorry I couldn’t be the magnificent first born son you wanted!” by now tears are spilling out of Jin’s eyes in such a rapid pace that his vision blurs.

All his father can do is stare at him, unsure of what to say or do.

Growing up Jin’s father wasn’t much of an affectionate parent, that role being filled more by his mother than his dad. If anything his father usually kept more of a reserved and stoic personality, his love language shown by the long nights of work he puts in for his family at the office and the constant pushing for success. And so here in this moment, to have his oldest son who he’d push to his complete limit cry his heart out in front of him, probably in desperate need of a hug, Sungjin just couldn’t bring himself to comfort him.

And so instead he simply said, “Goodnight Seokjin,” in the softest voice possible, before making his way upstairs to his bedroom, leaving the words he so desperately wanted to say unsaid.

Jin feels the arms of his mother hug him, her eyes as teary stained as his, “Ah Seokjin,” her voice breaks as she attempts to comfort him.

“I—” Jin hesitates, “I need to go back home mom,” and gently he breaks away from the hug.

“Seokjin…” his mother worries, “Just stay here for the night, I’ll grab your old sheets from the closet and—”

“Mom,” he simply says, a way of finalizing his decision

Knowing she wasn’t going to be able to convince him, she squeezes his shoulder in an effort to comfort him, “Drive safe,” she says.

He nods, just wanting to go home and sleep the night away.

Unlocking the door to your guys’ apartment, Jin was surprised to see you in the kitchen making ramen, your packed bags laid across the couch.

Having heard the door open, you turn to face him, “Hey—” and almost immediately your expression goes from one of happiness to one of concern. Quickly you rush towards him, his puffy eyes telling you that he’d been crying, “Hey, what’s wrong?” you raise your hand to cup his cheek.

Jin simply stares at you with a saddened look, unsure of what to say. “Hey, I’ve realized tonight after an argument with my father that I’m a complete utter failure, and you have no chance at a happy future by being with me.” Is that what he should say? It was the truth, wasn’t it?

“It’s—” he pauses, “It’s nothing,” he lowers your hand from his face, taking off his shoes and setting his keys down.

“Seokjin—”

“Y/N, it’s nothing,” he repeats, his way of telling you that he was serious, “I’m going to bed,” he exhales a deep sigh, making his way towards the bedroom, leaving you standing in the living room by yourself, wondering what in the hell just happened?

The next morning, as per usual Jin awoke to an empty bed, your Monday’s usually having you go in very early in the morning.

Jin groaned as he got up, remembering that today was his day off. God, did he just wanna stay in bed all day, but remembering that the two of you were running low on groceries, he thought might as well make himself useful and do the buying for the week.

Looking at himself in the bathroom mirror, he noticed the strands of his hair he once kept short now getting longer, resembling the mullet he used to have when he was a teen. Not that he hated it or anything, but it was an odd sight to see, and so he grabbed his hair cutting scissors from the cabinet and began to unevenly chop the long strands of hair ultimately resulting in a chopped banged look. To make it look more natural, he ruffled his hair at the end, not bothering to style it.

After that he changed into casual clothing and made his way to the grocery store, relying on nothing but his pure memory for the things he needed to buy.

Humming while pushing the cart full of groceries back to his car, he stops when something catches his eye.

Across the street was the headquarters of one of the internships he had applied for. And maybe it was due to the argument he had with his dad the day before, or the fact that he’d been feeling like a complete utter failure recently, but getting into his car, Jin couldn’t bring himself to drive away and go back home. Instead he got out of the car and began to walk across the street, unsure of what it was he was planning to do.

Ding. Ding.

Jin rings the service bell, that impulsive courageous feeling he felt earlier suddenly abandoning him.

A man, who looked like he was near Jin’s age, walks out of the back office, a tag that read the name “Jungkook” pinned on the left side of his chest, “Hello, how can I help you?” he greets, a small smile on his face.

“Oh um—” Jin becomes flustered, but deciding that there was no backing down he continued on, “I sent in an application here a couple of months ago and I haven’t heard back from anyone, so I was just wondering—”

Jungkook’s face becomes one of nervousness, “Oh I’m sorry sir—” he tries to interrupt but Jin relents.

“If there’d been some kind of delay in the process, and well if there has been, if I could talk to someone because I really need—”

“Sir,” Jungkook repeats, this time halting Jin from continuing, “that position you’re talking about was filled months ago,” he practically whispers with a look of both awkwardness and pity on his face, “maybe your letter got lost in the mail, but there’s not really much you can do by coming in here.”

Jin, clearly in denial, nods his head no, “Please,” he pleads, “I just need to talk to someone for like ten minutes at most, I swear.”

“Sir—”

“Can’t you write down my number or something? Pass it on at least?!”

Jungkook can only stare at the frantic man, unsure of what to say or do, “I-” he stutters, “I can’t,” he ultimately says, not wanting to give this man false hope nor waste his time by writing his name and number down, “I’m gonna have to call security if you don’t leave,” he says, voice wobbling.

It’s only then that Jin realizes how crazy he must’ve looked. Not only was he in casual clothing, but his hair was all messy and he was sure his eyes must’ve been dilated in cause of his desperation.

“I’m-I’m sorry,” he whispers under his breath, hastily making his way out.

What was he thinking? Barging in and demanding things like that…. God he was losing it. Though he knew better than to let his dad’s words get to him, for some reason they were just eating at him.

“... it’s also important to know that like any other career there is a risk of not making it because at the end of the day that’s how life works and sometimes things are just out of our control… but the real question is if you’re willing to accept it if it happens…”

Your words from years ago ring in his head, and he shakes his head in denial. No he wasn’t … he wasn’t willing to accept it and he knew he’d only continue looking like a fool if he didn’t. But he just couldn’t. Because fully accepting it would mean he’d let you down. That the person you said you were sure was going to make it, was nothing but a failure.

And so he walks back to his car, dreadfully going back home, forgetting the words you spoke after.

That everything would be okay, and that you’d be with him every step of the way.

“Since the day Jin and I had met, we had never seriously fought over anything, yeah, we’d occasionally get into a petty quarrel, but never enough to really get us truly mad. Things like which character in a movie was morally correct, or who ate the leftovers from the night before were as heated as our arguments ever got, and even then we’d always forgive each other after a couple of hours of cooling off, but this time… this time it was different. This time it was serious.”

Opening the door, Jin sighed as set down the bagged groceries on the floor, mentally and physically exhausted from everything, personally declaring to himself that this week was just a really bad week for him.

Taking off his shoes, he began to make his way into the kitchen, deciding that maybe a cold cup of water would relax him.

But when he was met with you, sitting on the kitchen isle’s chair with several shredded pieces of paper on the surface of the isle in front of you, along with an unshredded one in your hand, he was sure he wanted to curl up in a ball and disappear.

The look on your face said everything, it was a mixture of betrayal, anger, and sadness all in one. The two of you stared at each other for the longest, words not having to be exchanged in order to understand what was going on, until finally you break the silence and it’s what you ask that Jin swore he felt his soul go cold, “W-Why?” is all you say, your voice weak and fragile.

He gulps down the lump in his throat, the words barely managing to come out of his mouth, “Because y/n I just—” he pauses, unsure of what to say, “I just couldn’t tell you,” he ultimately says, pushing his hair back with his hand.

“But why?” you repeat the same question from before, your voice now growing louder as you get up from the seat, “I just don’t understand,” you add because no, you weren’t angry, you weren’t sad … you were hurt. You were concerned. You were worried. For you had just found out that the man you loved more than anything went to this extent to hide something from you. To hide something so … trivial.

Tears well up in your eyes when you notice the glossiness in his own eyes, “You—” his voice cracks, “You wouldn’t get it,” he states, and this causes you to get defensive.

“I’m sure I would, if you’d just talk to me,” you barked back, coming closer to him, “Whatever it was, it should’ve never resorted to this!” you flail the paper in your hands around.

You don’t mean to yell, but you do. It was frustration that was coming out of your mouth, he had to understand that … right?

Sighing you continue, “Today at work I just couldn’t focus, not when I knew there was something seriously bothering you,” you explain how you’d come to find the paper along with the rest of it’s shredded companions, “So I asked if I could leave early, thinking that since you had the day off I could maybe possibly get whatever it was out of you. Of course seeing that you weren’t here, I did some snooping of my own and well…” you shake your head.

“You’ve been lying to me for months Seokjin…. each time I’d ask you if you’d heard anything you’d say no, knowing you had … and for what? Because you didn’t wanna show me that you got rejected?” you sigh in dismay because despite him not answering you, you knew exactly why he didn’t tell you anything, “I would’ve helped you, you know? We could’ve worked on your resume or make a better project to show, I could’ve helped,” you grab his hand, a way of wanting to show that even now you were still beside him, “Say something Jin,” your voice breaks.

“You don’t—” he looks down at you, “You don’t get it y/n,” he monotonously repeats, removing your hand from his and walking towards the bedroom, a tired expression on his face.

He could feel it… he could feel himself cracking. With every minute that continued to pass in this wretched day, the selfless Jin everyone knew and loved was reaching his breaking point and the last person he wanted to take it out on was you. But you just kept pushing.

“Seokjin!” you force him to turn around by pulling at his hand, “Just talk to me!” you demand.

“And say what!” he finally screams, “What do you want me to say y/n?!” he cries out, tears spewing out of his eyes, “That I completely failed at my dream? That my dad was right, and that film was nothing but a mistake? That I could be working at some fancy company that pays a decent salary rather than relying on tips from a hard day’s work? That when I look at myself in the mirror, I see nothing but a failure!”

“Don’t say that about yourself,” you demand.

“It’s true isn’t it?” he questions, “Can’t you see that I’m not the person you think I am, that you’ve wasted your time being with some—”

“Just shut up already,” you grit your teeth, “... can’t you see I don’t care? I don’t care if you’re the richest or poorest man on Earth, I don’t care if your dad thinks that your career path is wrong, I don’t care if you or other people think you don’t deserve what you have, I just don’t care! What I do care about is your happiness and that shouldn’t rely on meeting other people’s expectations, including my own Seokjin. Because trust me, as long as I’m with you, I’m the happiest girl in the world. I promise you, if there’s one thing that’s true in this world, it’s that,” you lay your heart bare.

By now the both of you are crying, tears silently rolling down from the corners of each other's eyes.

It hurt to see Jin think so lowly of himself, especially when you knew just how much of an amazing person he was.

“Y/N…” he whispers your name as softly as he can, “I’m just really tired, and I just really wanna go to sleep,” his voice breaks.

“Seokjin—”

“Please?” he frowns, his eyes yearning to be closed.

“I’ll—” you pause for a moment, “I’ll see you in bed then,” you ultimately say, sadness looming in the air for the words unsaid.

Silently nodding, Jin makes his way to the bedroom, gently shutting the door behind him and exhaling a deep breath of air, silent muffled sobs finally escaping. A decision already set in his mind.

“A part of me used to think that I should’ve immediately went to bed that night, that then I would’ve caught him crying and maybe we could’ve thoroughly talked everything out that night, but then I think about all of the events that later happened after that night, and that’s when I understand that maybe we were doomed from the beginning…”

It had been a couple of weeks since the argument with Jin and though your interactions were still a little stiff with one another, you were still hopeful that things would get better. They had to.

Sighing, you unlock the door to your apartment, ready to take a nap after a long day of work. Kicking off your shoes, you say something outloud, assuming that Jin was in the kitchen like he usually was whenever you’d come back from work, “Jin take out the kimchi from the fridge for me please,” your voice weirdly echoes across the room, changing your course of direction from the bathroom to the kitchen.

“Jin?” you ask to an empty kitchen, “Hm,” you hum to yourself, maybe he was in the bedroom …

Walking inside, you see that he isn’t there, but what you do notice is the sudden emptiness of the room. The clothes he’d have thrown around no longer scattered around the room, and his little Mario figurines were no longer on the wooden shelf you two had built from scratch …. What in the hell was going on?

“Seokjin?” you shout again, hoping this was some kind of stupid prank on his part.

In a panicked manner, you look inside every possible room in the apartment, from the closets to the restroom, Jin being nowhere to be found. It isn’t until you do a second search of the kitchen that you notice that there was a note on the floor (most likely accidentally falling to the floor earlier).

Eyebrows furrowing when you read the note, you immediately grab your keys, shock and anger acting as your driving force.

“Right when I left, it began to rain heavy... It’s weird … I remember driving with such a rage that night I was sure I was driving recklessly… but for some reason, as ironic as it was, there was an artist playing on the radio that must’ve kept me at bay, Mariah Carey singing Without You …”

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The door opens.

“Ah Y/N,” Mrs. Kim greets you, her apron from either cooking or baking still on, “I feel like I haven’t seen you in such a long time,” she chuckles, hugging you in the process. Despite your current dilemma, you feign a smile, not wanting to be disrespectful even if you were in a horrible mood. “Is Seokjin with you?” she genuinely asks, and this causes your expression to be one of shock.

He wasn’t here? Then where the hell was he?

“O-oh no,” you stutter, partially due to the freezing weather, “I thought he was here...” you say, and his mother’s face immediately becomes one of concern.

“No...” she hesitantly says, clearly confused, “Not that I know of,” she furrows her brows, “Oh honey, you’re soaking, come in, come in,” she insists, “maybe we can try calling his job using the house phone,” she begins to ramble, but you stop yourself before completely entering, a sudden thought crossing your mind.

“A-a-actually it’s fine,” you say, “I think I know where he is.”

She tilts her head in confusion, “Are you sure? The rain is only getting heavier, and I’m sure neither Seokjin or your parents would want you driving in these conditions,” she says, noting the dull look in your eyes. You appreciated her concern, for you knew she loved you in her own special way, always imagining that you’d one day be her future daughter in law.

It was only expected really, you’d been in Jin’s life for almost 7 years now, both she and your mom always glancing at your ring finger whenever you’d visit, itching to see it decorated by a piece of jewelry.

If only Ms. Kim knew that that dream was slowly slipping away from your grasp at this current moment …

“Yes I’m sure Mrs. Kim,” you finally respond, “Don’t worry, I’ll drive safe,” you try to say as lightheartedly as possible.

Hesitantly, she nods, allowing you to leave.

“When Mrs. Kim had offered me to come inside, something had hit me out of nowhere and I remembered that it was raining. Pouring in fact. And my mind suddenly went back to the days when we were 17, remembering how he’d knock on my door with a bag of takeout after coming back from the one place you could always find him at on a rainy day… the diner. ”

Water is dripping from all over your body when you enter the diner, from your hair to your clothes, you were drenched in mother nature’s tears. The only thing that wasn’t completely soaking wet was the note in your hand, the one you slammed on the booth’s table he sat at once you spotted him.

He looks up at you with a pained expression on his face, “Everything I do is for you, and this is for the best. Don’t come looking for me, for I’ll be long gone by the next morning’s sunrise. I’m sorry. Yours forever, Jin,” you read the note out loud to him, a mixture of anger and hurt found in your voice.

He remains silent, watching as your fingers trembled in anger, “What?” you rhetorically ask, “Did you think I wasn’t going to come all the way down here to look for you, that I was just gonna accept this bullshit of a letter or whatever the fuck you wanna call it, and call it a day? Is that what you honestly thought?”

After several minutes of continuous silence, your voice rises in anger, “Don’t just look at me, say something!” you yell.

“Y/N,” he says, the volume in which you said it, catching the attention of the late night goers also at the diner, “you’re causing a scene.”

You take a seat across from him, planning on being as loud as you needed to be until you got some answers, “How could I not when my boyfriend of over 7 years decides to pack up his things and leave to God knows where while only leaving some sorry excuse of a note for me.” your voice shakes, “What the hell did you expect?”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, genuinely meaning the two simple words, more than you could ever know. Did you think he wanted to leave you? That he wanted to toss away everything you two had built to the trash? That he wanted to hurt the person who meant the most to him in this world? Of course he didn’t. But he had to be the bad guy in this story. Not for him, but for you. Because he loved you so much, that’d he’d do anything to see you live the life you dreamt of.

“No,” you say, “I don’t believe this,” you fling the letter around in his face, “I need you to tell it to my face, then I’ll believe you,” tears begin to well up in your eyes. There was just no way. The Jin you knew would never do this to you, never in a million years.

“Y/N—” he sighs, but he knows you won’t relent until you hear it from him, “Y/N we can’t be together anymore,” he says, and the words echo in your mind as he continues, “After tonight we’ll be nothing more than strangers,” he says in such a monotone voice, if you didn’t know any better you’d think he was a heartless being.

What you didn’t know was that Jin wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. Every nerve in his body was begging him to break out in tears, but no matter how much he wanted to … he just couldn’t bring himself to break outwardly. Not right now at least. Because right now he needed to be unbreakable.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” a single teardrop slowly rolls down your cheek, the agonizing ache you felt in your heart now growing because of his words, “Seokjin,” you whimper, “I-If this is because of what you were saying a couple of weeks ago,” forcibly you grab his hand from across the table, your lips quivering in fear of losing the person you loved the most, “then why can’t you see I don’t care? Because to me you’ll always be the tall, lanky, boy with an outdated mullet who first showed me around town 7 years ago with a camera pointed at my face. Because as long as we’re with each other, we’ll get through anything Seokjin …” you squeeze his hand tighter, “You’re my person Seokjin, mine, and mine only,” you try to smile, only causing more tears to spill out of your eyes as they crease.

“Y/N…” just accept it, is what he wants to say because what he was about to say would change how you viewed him, it would make you question everything you ever knew about the person you loved, “I don’t know what else I can say or do for you to understand that I just don’t want to be with you anymore,” he feels the a knot forming in his throat, as if to tell him to stop immediately, that what he was saying would have irreversible consequences, “And I haven’t been for a while…” How disgusting he was.

“You’re—” your voice croaks, “You’re a liar—Seokjin please....” you cry.

He pulls his wallet out and sets the money for his meal down, getting up from his seat in the process, “I truly am sorry Y/N…” is all he can say, before giving you a final kiss on the forehead, his feet fighting against his will to turn around and apologize. To tell you that he was just being an idiot and beg for your forgiveness. But he couldn’t.

He wouldn’t.

And so pushing the door open, he took one final glance at you, knowing he’d left his heart with you.

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startreckobsessed · 4 years ago

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Let you go

Hi! Can i make a request? 🥺 For AOS Leonard Mccoy? With a lil bit of TOS Old Spock. Should probably set on Into Darkness, Bones and reader broke up between the event of the first and second film, so bones was a bit unbothered to flirt with Dr.Marcus (he’s trying to make reader jealous). Old spock talk them out of their misery by telling them that they’re story was quiet unique because in his timeline they didn’t even met, so they should cherish it. (Or whatever, as long as spock intervenes). They talk, and made up. And oh, fluff. Emotional tear jerking fluff. Thank you thank you!!

I have this idea (this was supposed to be a different request, but hey! ), that reader used to date and was in love with this hotshot before she met Leonard. Said ex died in action as a honored captain. Reader was devistated. Again this was supposed a different request, but you can make it as a back story. Can i make this my second request? Hehe 🥺😅

@lykxzandlove Thank you for requesting darling, and thanks for your patience, this one really faught me haha. If you recognise some of the dialogue it's from thirteen reasons why.

Warnings: ANGST ANGST ANGST. I may or may not have cried while writing this.

[[READ MORE]]

You stood in rank dressed in your grey uniform, cap framing your line of vision, shoulder to shoulder between checkov and Sulu as you gazed up at the podium where captain pike was speaking.

"Exceptional courage, is what drives us....

And our crew, is what fuels us..."

Your crew had just finished the first two year leg of your mission. A long two years...

"Let's take a moment to pay tribute to past captain's whom have made the ultimate sacrifice..." the images roll, and a firmiliar face flashed before your eyes and you suck in a breath, squeazing your eyes shut to keep your tears at bay.

You breath out carefully out of your nose, trying desperately to keep the sudden onslaught of emotions contained.

People told you time would numb it, but even give years later, the pain was still fresh and raw each and every time you heard his name, or saw his picture pop up in your records.

You gritted your teeth, struggling to ground yourself in this moment, focusing on your feet on the ground.

You blinked harshly, lifting your face and focusing your attention on captain Pike.

You don't fail to notice the doctors face turned toward you, no doubt brows mashed together over concerned eyes. The urge to meet his eyes and sink into their depths is nearly overpowers your will, but you hold strong, chin high.

------

You had never meant to fall for Leonard. You were deep in it before you even realised what was happening. You were complacent with where you were, some people go their entire lives without knowing true love, you got yours. You didn't feel the need for a new one. But there he came, blazing and true like a comment blasting across the black abyss your crew so faithfully piloted. It happened so naturally, slipping through your defences so you never noticed it.

Until it was too late, and both of you had been wounded in the process.

----

"Sweetheart?" Leonard called from behind you. You cursed silently, slowly turning to face him, trying to keep the guilt off your face as you turned to face him. "You should probably stop calling me that.." You said softly. He frowned, and not the way you liked when he was being sardonic or adorably frustrated with the captain, this one was real.

"Sorry." He said "habit. Are you alright? You left the ceremony yesterday so quickly..." you shake your head, looking away from him. "Fine, I'm fine." You said, swiftly turning and walking away from him. He frowned, looking after you, not noticing his hand was slightly extended, reaching out for you.

------

Later that day, you made your way down to the mess hall, spotting the old Ambasseter Spock, sitting alone by a window. You go through and get your food before approaching the table, greeted by a warm smile.

"Hello ambassator, " you awenered with your own. "Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all Y/N. Your company has always always been welcome." You sit down across from him. "Do tell me, how is the good doctor doing." Your fork freezes near your mouth before you set it down. "Oh, I don't know." He frowns deeply.

"I can't imagine why not." He says. "We-" your voice cracks. You clear your throat. "Were not together anymore." Suprise flits crosses his face.

"Well, now that can't be right." He says. You grimace, "I know, nothing feels right anymore, it's like reality has been tilted on its hinges, but..."

"If you don't mind me prying..." He prompts. "Go ahead, you can ask."

"What caused the separation?"

"me." You say thickly. Unexpectedly he reaches across the table and pats your hand in a grandfatherly gesture.

"And by my estimation, you do not seem satisfied with the conclusion, correct?" You hesitate before nodding. "Then mabey its time to rethink that course of action?" Your eyes widen before you look down at the table, shame radiating off of you. "I can't do that, I've already hurt him too bad, I still hurt him." You grimace, thinking of the encounter in the hallway. "I don't know how to stop hurting him." You say, more to yourself than to him.

"Then perhapse it's time to discover what is hurting you." He says. You look away into the porthole, into the black inky abyss that you sometimes wished would swallow you up.

"You know, you two are a remarkable pair." You look at him quissicly. "What makes you say that?" "In every universe I've traveled there are differences, the events in a person's life, and how they react to them, shape who they become. In every universe a different set of events happen in both of your lives, and yet every single time, one of the only constants I find are both of you coming together, no matter the space or the time nor the obstacles placed before you, the one constant is your souls coming together. And from what I can tell, it hurts your souls to be apart."

Question bubbles to your lips, but you silence it. "Ask your question, Y/N." You smile grimly. "You know me too well." "Well I've only had two lifetimes to know you."

"Where you come from... what are we like?" He smiles fondly, memories coming back to him. He sighs in a melancholy way.

"Your other self passed on just a few months ago, from a human ailement not yet curable, he blames himself for not being able to save you." Your eyes widened before blinking in shock. "Wow, thats... God how is he?" He frowns even more deeply. "Trying to go day by day, but losing someone one loves so deeply for so long... is not an easy thing to accommodate to." "Well whats.." many questions bubble to your lips at once before deciding on one. "I-Is he alone?" You ask, voice cracking. He shakes his head. "The good captain has come to earth to stay with hm, along with your daughter and grandchildren." "Joanna?" He smiles just slightly. "Well I couldn't give everything away could I?" You bark out a teary laugh and he chuckles. "But time, is so very precious my dear, you yourself told me that after your diagnosis." "Well, at least one of us has sense."

"But to thoroughly awenser your question, might I go over a timeline?" "Yes, I'd like that." You sigh, resting your head on your palm. "You met on this ship, like so many other times...."

--------

A few days later, you smooth down your hair as you look in the mirror. You were ready to come clean with Leonard about everything you've been keeping buried. Your heart thundered at the thought of unearthing the source of so much pain, but you were ready to start again with him, start fresh, open and raw, with no secrets.

You exited your quarters and went looking for him. Your fingers nervously tapped against your legs as you walked, looking for him, first going to the Med bay. Christine greeted you, her brows burrowing when you ask for him. "Oh hun, he's off planet on a mission." "Oh." You say "thank you Christine." You say before dashing off for the bridge, where you knew they'd be monitoring.

The tube doors opened up and you made your way to stand next to the captains chair, where Jim was watching. He greeted you silently with a nod, both of you listening to the audio feed coming in. You asked what they were doing, knowing he could probably hear you being so close to Jim. Jim quietly filled you in. "We found some ancient Clingon battle tech on this planet, were trying to salvage it."

"Well sweetheart, there something I can help you with?" His voice came through painfully clear, flirtatious and laying it on thick. Your heart seized and you swallowed against the lump suddenly stuck in your throat

Jim eyed you warily "Dr. McCoy may I remind you you are not there to flirt." He said in a stern voice, concerned for your feelings. Dr. Marcus' voice rang in. "We've got it, beam us up."

Once you saw him you forgot that you were surrounded by your crewmates, your hurt voice ringing out.

"You... You called her sweetheart." You said, betrayal filling you, eyes filling with tears.

Without another word you took off down the adjoining hallway, Leonard taking off after you. You sped until you were in an abandoned hallway two floors down with him still following.

Your face got hot, embarasment taking hold. You didn't want to cry over a tiny little word.

His eyes widened, regret filling them when he saw how hurt you were. "Baby- " he stopped himself. He only called you baby when he was really concerned.

"No, no I'm sorry. It's okay, Carols great, she's a great person." You forced out, turning to try and walk away. He grabbed your arm spinning you back around. "I don't want Carol. I want you. I'm sorry." You blinked. "So your not ready to move on?" He shakes his head vehidamently. "It was stupid. So stupid. I've never done anything like that in my life. I wanted to make you jealous." It felt like all the air was sucked from your lungs.

"You still want me? After evrything-" he shakes his head. "My god woman, were you listening? Yes! I love you." He breaths, gently squeezing your bicep. "But I- I hurt you! I broke up with you without giving you a reason-" "I know, sweetheart." He says Your heart stopped.

"You know?"

"I know as much as I can guess. But why don't you tell me?" You took a shuddering breath.

"So you know I was on a different ship before this one."

"Yes."

"When I went onto that ship from the academy, I came with the captain. He made it so we'd make it onto the same ship, because we were..."

"together?"

You nodded. "We loved each other. He was my captain, and I was by his side as head of security and defense tactics." He nodded, fingers pressed against his lips as he listened. "One day, we were attacked by an enemy bregade, and crash landed us on a deserted planet. In order to save me, he threw himself in front the lazer that would have incinerated me and two other crew members. They would have killed all of us, all it did was incinerate him.

After he was killed the crew, furious overpowered them, and we survived, but..." You trailed off, before looking back to him. "How did you know?"

He sighed, as if debating telling you something. "As part of protocol, a captain must... gain permission from Starfleet to enter into marriage with another crew mate. His request form was entered just a few days before his death, with your name attached." You stilled, before another wave of emotion crashed over you. A sob escaped you, and you leaned against the wall for support, a hand coming up to try to muffle your cries.

Leonard watched you with glassy eyes, your pain like a twisting knife in his chest. He waited for a moment before slowly inching forward to wrap his arms around you, testing the waters. You pull him closer, wrapping your arms tightly around him, his warmth sinking into your cold body. "I'm sorry." He whispers into your neck. "I'm so sorry." You shake your head, pressing your face into his neck. His scent calmed you, and eventually your breathing slowed as his hands rubbed your back. "I love you." You said, his hands paused, and he untangled himself to look at you, hope in his eyes. "Really?" "Yes, I'm sorry I made such a mess. Do you want to try this again?" You ask. He let out a breathless chuckle before pressing his lips to your forehead. "Yes, God yes." You smile teary eyed, bittersweet joy filling you. You placed your hands on both sides of his face before giving him a slow melting kiss, thumbs stroking his face. "I just have to do something first." You say. His brows crease slightly, but he let's you go. "Okay.." He says uuncertainly

You smile. "I'll come and see you at dinner, okay?" "Yeah, I'll see you."

---------

You entered your quarters without turning on the light, blindly reaching for your padd. It glowed brightly in the darkness of your room, easily finding the picture of him you loved the most, him dashing in his captains uniform hat just a little bit crooked, every inch of him glowing from happiness. Hot thick tears leaked from your eyes as You gently placed your padd on the table in front of your window, his face materializing against the empty black abyss, somewhere where you knew his ashes were scattered, floating forever in the universe, amidst stardust and wonder.

"I love you." You whispered into the silence, looking at him. "Wherever you are, I hope you know that I love you. I hope you know that I'll never not love you... a good friend once told me, I can love you, and still let you go.... I know one day, thinking about you won't hurt so much, and the other feelings will fade, and I'll be only left with love. The way you loved me so fiercly and how i loved you. I'll never forget you i promise, how could I? Even when I'm dying I know you'll come back to me, when I'm old and tired. But there is this amazing man that I love that wants to love me, and I think I'm ready to be happy again. I know you'd want me to be." You looked back at his flickering image

"I hope we meet again. And So, Derek.... I love you, and I let you go. And I hope wherever you are, you feel peace, you feel safe...and I hope you know that I love you." You say, a feeling of weight being stripped off of you makes you feel lighter, and a strange peace settles over you, and somehow you know he hears you.

"I'll never forget you."

#bones x reader #leonard mccoy imagine #leonard mccoy x reader #star trek fanfics #star trek drabble #star trek imagine #mine

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bisexualbumblebee-writes · 3 years ago

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All the Stars- Fred Weasley x OC

Fred Weasley x Mallorie Bishopp

Description: the war is finally over and everyone is trying to get back to normal and be rebuilt. After finding Mallorie stargazing and reminiscing about a loss, Fred elects to stay with her.

Word Count: 1.1k

May 2, 1998. The day that Mallorie witnessed Voldemort die, a.k.a. she’d never let herself forget. It was the best day of her life. Of course she was relieved to hear the news, but seeing his lifeless physical being was a whole different feeling. She fell to her knees and cried in relief before hugging Ginny, who had been closest to her.

Life after the war was hard for her. Everywhere she looked, she just saw the lives lost, especially that of Lavender Brown who Mallorie had formed a friendship with. She found that cleaning up the remnants of debris at Hogwarts was therapeutic. After helping rebuild Hogwart, Mallorie finally got to start up her bookshop. She had both wizarding books and muggle books and she couldn’t have been prouder with herself.

Fred and George, whose shop was just a few buildings away, were also absolutely proud of her. They ended up being her first customers, buying some muggle joke books. After her first day, they took her out to dinner in celebration. Fred ended up moving in with her to the apartment above her shop so George and Corinne could live together.

One thing that Fred learned about Mallorie was that she often liked disappearing to the roof at night. She always liked the stars and sometimes read books on constellations and planets. After Nymphadora Tonks’s funeral, Fred found that the roof trips became more frequent. Mallorie had looked up to her, especially after she joined the Order of the Phoenix. She was devastated to see Tonks’s body in the casualties section in Hogwarts. So, she found herself going to the roof to get away. More often than not she’d just stare at the constellation Chamaeleon.

That’s where Fred found her at 2:30 a.m., staring at the constellation he learned to recognize. She was laying flat on her back with her hands resting on her stomach. Her hair was splayed out around her head, kind of looking like a crown in Fred’s opinion. He didn’t say anything as he laid down beside her also on his back. His hands laid on his side lazily. It was quiet for a few minutes and Fred found himself almost falling asleep.

“Do you know why it’s Chamaeleon?” She asked softly, not taking her eyes off of the sky.

“Hm?” He looked at her with knitted eyebrows.

“Do you know why it’s Chamaeleon that I look at when thinking of Tonks?” She elaborated. Fred thought for a minute before shaking his head.

“No. Why?” She sighed softly, closing her eyes for a minute before looking at him.

“Chameleons can change on command, whether it be for survival or just simple want. They remind me of Tonks,” she explained, her voice cracking near the end. He waited to see if she would say something else, and his patience paid off.

“Fred I miss her so much,” she whimpered, looking at him with tear filled eyes. Fred jumped to action immediately. He turned on his side and scooted closer to her, wrapping his arms around her as the tears began falling. He let her cry into his chest, not caring about his shirt being wet. He ran his fingers through her hair soothingly.

“I know it’s difficult,” he started softly. “And to tell you the truth, you’ll never stop grieving. There is no ‘getting over’ the loss of a friend or loved one. But you know what you will do? You’ll learn to live with it. You’ll heal and rebuild yourself just like the way you rebuilt Hogwarts. Understand?” Mallorie had never heard him be so serious, it was a little jarring. Nevertheless, she nodded before wiping her nose.

“When you look at Chamaeleon, you see her, and you’ll always see her. When you look at it you’ll remember how much you love her and how dear she was to you. And in the end, I think that’s what’s best.” Mallorie smiled weakly.

“You’re right,” she mumbled. Fred felt himself smirk.

“Did you expect anything else?” He asked cockily. Mallorie rolled her eyes and lightly punched his arm.

“Way to ruin the moment,” she said sarcastically. Fred laughed in response and she couldn’t stop herself from laughing with him.

“Guess I’m just that good, huh,” he snickered. Mallorie shook her head and looked into his eyes. Fred hummed in thought, prompting Mallorie to ask what he was thinking.

“You know, I’ve always thought the stars are beautiful. They’re nothing compared to your eyes, though.” Mallorie blushed profusely and cooed.

“Aw, you’re such a sap Fred.” It was Fred’s turn to blush and he shrugged.

“Shut up,” he mumbled embarrassedly. Mallorie continued to coo obnoxiously at him until he finally began tickling her to shut her up. She squealed as his fingers dug into her sides and began laughing loudly, begging him to stop. She was on her back with him hovering above her by the time he halted his movements. They stared at each other, both breathless and smiling at each other. Fred leaned down and gave her a quick kiss before moving beside her again.

The two laid there staring at the stars until they fell asleep right there on the roof. Mallorie woke up first around dawn and went back inside to start on breakfast. She hummed along with a song on the radio as she flipped a pancake over. When Fred’s arms wrapped around her from behind she nearly jumped out of her skin.

“Frederick Gideon Weasley what is wrong with you?” She exclaimed, smacking his arm. Fred only laughed and held up his hands in defense.

“I’m sorry! You were facing away and I just couldn’t help myself. Something came in the mail for you,” he explained, handing her a box. She read the return address, and her eyebrows knit together in confusion when she didn’t recognize it. Carefully opening the box, she just barely peeked over it just in case it was dangerous. There was a letter with her name on the front of it. Fred and Mallorie exchanged a curious look and Mallorie picked up the letter and opened.

Mallorie,

I found this in Tonks’s things. She always talked about how much you liked it, and I figured it was only right that you received it now that she’s gone. I hope you like it.

Sincerely,

Sirius O. Black

Mallorie set the letter aside and pulled out what the letter had been on top of. She teared up when she realized what it was: Tonks’s leather jacket. She held it against her chest for a moment before putting it on quickly. Fred smiled at her.

“It looks wonderful on you, love,” he said softly. Mallorie smiled tearfully at him then hugged him. She just knew that it could only get better from here, and Fred would be right there with her.

#harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x oc

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 4 years ago

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AHHHHH YOU ALWAYS KILL IT W SONG REQUESTS (as you do w everything else you write bc it’s all gold). may i pls ask for only memories remain by my morning jacket w cal if you could 🥺

Hi, love! Thanks for your patience while I finished up some schoolwork before I got this request!

CW/TW: Mentions of Death.

_______________

Calum grunts as he pushes up off the floor, hands pressed into the mattress to help assist him. It’s less his back and more of his knees that are not pleased with him. But he does this every so often, kneels on the floor on your side of the bed and digs out that shoebox full of pictures, your engagement band. He made sure that you kept the wedding ring itself. He wanted you to take that with you.

He should probably stop calling it your side of the bed--your scent hasn’t grazed that pillow in nearly three years. The nightstand is missing your mug in the mornings and your glasses that you always forgot where you put them down. Even if you did remember to hook them around your neck, the second you pulled the glasses down you’d forget instantly where you put them. And Calum wouldn’t be laughing at that, but sometimes he’s not sure how you got around in the world. You always told him glasses weren’t important; they were replaceable if you somehow managed to lose them for good. The only things you didn’t forget were the important things.

And it’s true. You remembered birthdays, anniversaries, just how the kids liked their plates arranged when they were younger and how a kiss to the back of Calum’s neck would always make his shiver spine. You remembered all the quirks to the dogs and you’d remembered songs from decades ago like they were still new to the radio.

Settling onto the edge of the bed, Calum pulls up the top to box and right on top is the letter you wrote to him while he was on tour, all those years ago. He had saved it, doing his best to preserve it in your handwriting but he had typed up and saved another draft of it, so he’d never forget it.

Dear Calum,

You might think I’m crazy. But I can hear the laughter in the walls--the sound of you laughing at all my purposefully bad dance moves and I can hear the kisses you give to top of Duke’s head. And I know the house is empty except for me and Duke. I know you are miles away. I know you are dazzling thousands every night. But if only they could hear what I hear in the walls. Your bass occasionally thumping the pictures frames and the shrieks when we fail at some new recipe and resign to take out. If only they could hear, the sound of you when you’re murmuring gently in your sleep or the snores that keep me up some nights. If only they could hear the whispers we don’t want to give power too, the anxiety that sometimes build, but knowing that the two of us can confide in each other.

If only I could capture what I hear just below that too, and send that to you as well. If only I had a way to let you hear what I hear. If I could tell you sometimes I hear a baby’s laughter, or the bickering of sibling. If only I could tell you about the years I hear waiting for us in this house, maybe other one--a place bigger for the dogs and kids. I can hear the splash of our pool with kids from the neighborhood.

I don’t know if you hear that too in the house when I’ve gone for a conference or even if you imagine it when I’m just in the next room. I know I do with you. Even if you’re just outside with your trainer, I can hear the house whispering for more. And I could totally be projecting on some poor house, that doesn’t ever have wants or desires, just an existence that which is it content with, but there is something happening, something that I want to let you know about. It hasn’t been easy for ys, but it’s always been worth it. I know our options around children may be a little tough, but I think it’ll be worth it.

I could easily call you, I could easily text you all things. But, no, I must write it down, as some way of working through my own thoughts. I hope I don’t sound crazy.

Though I can hear it now, you tsking at me with a shake of your head and a single raised digit--I am never crazy, just always thinking. Just always working through the thoughts that run faster than me.

I hope you’re well. I hope the tour’s going well and you’re sleeping good at night. Have you tried that lavender like I told you about? Duke’s well, in case you’re wondering. He did well at his checkup today, just sleeping a lot still. Vet says it’s normal for a dog his age. But when he does get a good burst of energy he’s happy to trot around the backyard or around the block. He’s still eating well, so don’t fret about that. Your old man’s still kicking it. He told me to tell you, he’s not going down anytime soon. He’s just taking it easy.

The weather is LA is turning for a bit. We’ve had some clouds for the last few days. But it’s been nice. You’d be displeased, needing that sun. But soon, you’ll be back home--see your mom and dad and be able to get that Australian sun.

Love you, Calum. To the ends of the earth, back again, and beyond.

Yours truly,

Dearly Beloved.

He’s not sure when calling you his dearly beloved became a thing. You’d remember. You’d remember to the exact date, time, and happenings. But Calum can’t seem to remember that kind of stuff. He just remembers watching you run after the kids as they shrieked about bath time and how you like kisses right on the back of your ears.

It’s a strange thing, to remember that, remember all the times he could sneak up behind you to kiss the back of your ear and watch you jump in the shock contrasted to the way you felt cool in his hands as he turned your head one last time to kiss the beloved spot and the way dead weight is actually much heavier, the way it took so much more effort to place your head back upright than it ever took to gently cup your chin and instantly you’d turn to him, with a smile on your face.

Calum places the letter to the side and finds your favorite old t-shirt--it was hardly a t-shirt anymore. The hole in the armpit was spreading just a little but it held the name of your old university and you wore it for everything from weeding the garden to painting the bedrooms, to gutting the kitchen during the remodel.

Calum bought exact matching t-shirts and made small decor pillows for the kids, sprayed your signature scent onto them so they could sleep easier at night. But they still curled up in bed with him, hugging their pillows, faces buried into the pillows on your side of the bed. He’d rather them take the last of your scent--he’s happier that they got those moments.

“Pops, I don’t understand this math question,” Trey states poking his head into the bedroom.

Calum snaps his attention up from the box and nods. “Coming. Algebra, right?”

“Yeah,” he nods, leaning into the molding. It’s crazy to look at him now, how he’s almost surpassed Calum in height. At fifteen, Calum thought he’d surely still have a few inches maybe a foot over him. Calum remembers when Trey found out he had officially been adopted but the two of you. He was six and cried more than Calum or you did--though the margin was probably still pretty close. It couldn’t have been nine years already.

“Do-do you have their glasses?” Trey asks quietly. “Today’s been hard. And I feel silly with a pillow in my lap as I do homework.”

Calum walks over, box in hand. “I kept a lot of their smaller things. Whatever you need--it’s always in this box.”

Trey pulls your glasses from the pile, noticing other letters and pictures scattered about in the box. He spies the college t-shirt but just next to it is a picture of you and Trey. He’s in your lap, giant headphones over his ears. “Is that from the first show I went too of yours?”

Calum only briefly catches a glance at the photo before Trey’s fully plucked it from the box. “I think so.”

Trey immediately places the glasses back into the box but holds onto the picture. “Thanks.”

“Of course.”

“So, do you happen to remember anything from Algebra?”

Calum laughs at the tease and put the box down on the dresser before following behind Trey to the living room. Brandy sits at the coffee table, her stack of color pages and pencils spread out. Calum did his best to keep her doing art. It was hard after you first died. But slowly over the years, she’s gotten back into it. “You all good?”

She nods. “All good in the Hood.” She got the phrase from you and here Calum was, with Brandy at ten, and he was sure she would never let the phrase die.

Calum stops just for a moment to kiss the top of her head and then carries on to the dinning room table. “Okay, so I know I’m not a math whizz like them. But your old man still knows a thing or two about a thing or two,” he returns to Trey’e earlier quip. “Now let’s see what new math magic they have you all working in.”

Trey laughs, slipping the tiny photo of him into the back of his phone case so it shows out to the world. “You calling it magic does not make me feel better.”

#calum hood #calum hood fluff #calum hood angst #calum hood blurb #calum hood 5sos #calum 5sos #calum hood imagine #calum hood fanfic #calum hood fic #5sos #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #5sos imagine #5sos angst #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer angst #5 second of summer imagine #5 seconds of summer fanfic #h writes

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gallivantingheart · 4 years ago

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Me, a Princess? Shut Up!

masterlist | next

⏮️ chapter 1: no way ⏭️

who?: jihoon/woozi x (f)reader

word count: 2195

genre/s: fluff, humour

warnings: none

synopsis: Life’s pretty good for y/n. Easy, even. Until someone claiming to be her grandmother says she is the queen of a small island country - and y/n, a princess.

a/n: thanks for your patience everyone!

**please ignore the timestamps - they are not accurate**

The doorbell rings with the stupid song your dad picked and you flinch, jostling your coffee. Too early for any of that kind of noise. Still, you look at your mother, brow quirked. “You weren’t expecting anyone, were you?” She shakes her head. “Mingyu wasn’t picking you up?” You don’t have a class with him today. The doorbell switches to knocking, becoming a touch more firm and impatient. Your mum turns the corner to the short hallway. Her voice is muffled and stilted, making you shrink with your hot drink in hand. Obviously not a warm welcome. When she gets around the corner, you’re shocked when two others follow. A chic elderly woman and a tall man you swear shouldn’t have been able to fit in the doorway. The pastel dress blazer alone makes you feel underdressed in your own house. There is a sharp glint to your mother’s eyes that you don’t like as she glances at them.

“It would have been better if you called beforehand. We would have made a bit more time.” There is a downward turn to her lips as she says it over her shoulder, rounding the kitchen counter to return to her tea. “I know you, dear. I would never have seen you, had you been notified of my arrival.” The elderly woman says. You stand silently, watching the strained conversation pass back and forth. You note that the woman has the same eyes as your mother and that the man dressed in black hasn’t left the entry to the hallway. Your mum pulls out two more mugs, one plain with strict edges, the other quite stout yet sophisticated. “Please, sit. Do you want anything to drink? Tea, coffee?” “Tea. One sugar.” You gape as she pours one coffee, black into the taller mug, pushing it across the bench to the man. He takes it with a nod. The elderly woman sitting at your dining table eyes you heavily, squinting and scanning your half-asleep frame. It makes your shoulders crawl as you look away. You’re a bit confused as to the small talk; it was something your mother hated. Why is she suddenly letting this woman in and indulging her every whim? Your phone vibrates over the bench - Minghao. You’re going to be late for class if you keep at this any longer.

You turn to sneak to the back of the house to get ready, ignoring the fact you hadn’t even been introduced. Frankly, you’re pretty sure you have been forgotten. “Ah-ah. Not so fast. Come here.” You screw your nose up at your mother’s tone. Turning, you seat yourself next to her tentatively,. She sighs. “Y/n, this is your grandmother. My mother.” You have to consciously keep your teeth together so your jaw doesn’t drop. No one talked about your mother’s side of the family. Your dad avoided it on a weak presumption of ignorance. You could see why now. The pastel woman holds her thin hand out across the table. “Y/n, my name is Park Soonhee. A pleasure to meet you.” Her tone of voice booked no argument and you shake her hand firmly despite your trepidation. It’s cold, but not clammy. You’re still too busy watching Soonhee and your mum exchange looks, whole conversations filled between them. Soonhee nods with the breath of a smile, relaxing back to her place. She folds her hands neatly in her lap, her tea untouched despite accepting the offer. The lavender blazer and skirt are still off-putting and you note she has some kind of gold coat of arms pinned to her chest. “Firm handshake. Very good.”

She turns to look between your mother and yourself. “I’m glad you’re both here. This is a discussion for the women of our family.” You hate how dismissive Soonhee is of the tension she creates with every word. The aura around your mother is tensing, stretching to the point of snap. Your mother’s agitation always sets you off as well, far more than you’d like. The more she speaks, the more the questions grow. Soonhee speaks as if you’re already halfway through the conversation. “Mother, what is it?” Your mum sighs. “Younghee, I am asking for you to take your rightful place as queen of our country. As of now, I am a widowed queen with no official heir. You are first in line. You cannot turn your back on your people.”

Snap. You mother pushes up, grabbing her tea and chucking it down the drain. Once she rinses her cup, it clatters into the sink loudly. When she looks back, you swear you can see a fire in her eyes. It distracts from the fact that Soonhee, your grandmother, is saying she and your mother are royalty. “We talked about this years ago. Many times. When I married Sunghoon. When Y/N was born. When my son was born. Every time I have said no. Why do you think it would be any different now? It’s been over twenty-five years. Enough.” She snarls. With fury like that, you expect the man in the entry to make a move. No such action happens, so it seems he doesn’t consider her a threat. A mistake on his part, you think - you’ve seen how violently she can cut carrots for dinner when she’s angry. “Younghee. Our family is a long and proud line of leaders, the backbone and foundation to our country’s existence. Every law and system is in part due to our hand. If you reject this, it may jeopardise the entirety of Amaide’s monarchy and result in the deterioration of the country itself.” Soonhee finally raises her voice and it feels like it should threaten more than it does. “Well, I guess you should have thought about that before coming into my home and expecting your sort of answer.” Your mother is taut in the way she stands, her anger showing her age like no other emotion does. She doesn’t even properly face the queen when she speaks. You have to break the tension - there’s too much going on not to.

“Uh, what are we talking about, exactly? I’m hearing royalty? Mum, we’re not royalty. I can’t even do my hair properly on the best of days.” You murmur. Soonhee spins on you, aghast. “Younghee. Do they not know?” Even the guard looks uncomfortable now, subtly pushing his coffee back to the bench and checking behind him to the front of the house. You hear the heavy sigh from the kitchen, the under breath whispering that your mother does when she’s stressed. Carefully, she sits on your edge of the sofa, sandwiching you between the two women. “You heard right. Soonhee is the Queen of Amaide. That makes me a princess.” She says, eyes steady on you. You gape and splutter, pointing slowly between them. “You, a princess, mum? No way.” She nods, eerily calm. “It’s true. My full name and title are Princess Younghee Park, Heir to Amaide. I passed this title on years ago though, when I met your father. Therefore, the title falls to the next blood heir.” Your mind whirls. You knew your uncle had no children or a partner of any sort, resulting in many a summer spoiled rotten in ways you never fully understood. Your mum has no other siblings other than him. You were the eldest. Which meant … “No. No way. No way! I’m not -” Soonhee nods for you. “Yes. Technically you are. Princess Y/N Y/L/N, of Amaide.”

You stand up. “No, I don’t understand. What about dad? How much - where - what?” “Baby, your father hasn’t done anything. He knows about all of this but I made these choices. When I met your father here and married him, I was supposed to go back to Amaide and take my place as queen. Instead, I chose to step down and abdicate to live a normal life - to give you a normal life. For your father and the rest of our family. But, some people just don’t take no for an answer.” She glares at the queen. “Were you ever going to tell us?” You say in a breath. She shrugs. “One day. When it wouldn’t be a problem anymore. But, I would never lie to you if you found out on your own.” She had a point. It was never lied about, just never discussed. Soonhee looks quite disgruntled at the whole situation but you can’t find yourself to be sympathetic, what with the way she barged in.

You stand and shake your head at the crumpled expression turning your mother’s lips. “So, uh, we’re royalty. R-right. This is a lot to take in. I have, um, class. Can we talk about this more when I get home?” Mum smiles and nods. “Sure, baby. Be quick.” It’s a fumbled rush down the hall and through your room to get your bag and your jeans on, not catch your toes in the knee rip. When you get out, the conversation has turned to a murmur, which doesn’t settle you any less. “‘Kay, going!”

“What about Y/N?” Soonhee says suddenly, louder than expected. You still and swallow a sigh. You thought you got out of this conversation for the time being. “What about me?” “Y/N, just because your mother has passed the crown on, doesn’t mean you have to. You could be the queen.” Soonhee says with a trace of smugness settled into her spine on your bowing sofa. Your mum jumps in, waving her hands and all. “Uh-uh. Not so fast, Soonhee. Didn’t you hear her? We would talk about this later. You can’t just spring something like that on us when she’s just found out.” “Which wouldn’t have been an issue, had you told her in the first place. She deserves the right to know about her heritage.” You shift on your feet, socks balled up in a hand as you watch the conversational tennis continue to play out. As usual, you’re on the fence.

“I-I don’t know. Mum’s right. I only just found out about this and I don’t understand any of what’s going on.” You mumble. “Princess Lessons!” Soonhee cries out, reminiscent of a mad scientist - just as persistent as one, too. “I shall be in the country for the next two months for political engagements. Plenty of time to learn about Amaide’s rich history and our family. Give her a taste of the life she was born for. And if all goes well, announce her out to polite society at the Independence Gala.” You hold your socks out to pause the situation. “Okay, hold on. Hold on. To be clear: I do get a choice in all of this, yes?” “Yes, of course. Take the lessons and then make your decision at the Gala whether or not to accept the crown.” Your mother steps up, curling around your side. “Baby, I do agree that I want you to know who your family is, now that you know. But you’re being given the one thing I never had, that I had to take - a choice. You get to decide your future.”

You watch the elderly woman, haughty and still. Something felt too simple. Too easy. “But, of course, no one can know. As of this moment, your existence is a classified, government secret. If the press heard about this-” Your mum gasps, rolling her eyes. “God no. If anybody got wind of this I can’t imagine the mess it would make for all of us. I don’t want the rest of the family going through that, after all the efforts made to keep a sense of normality.” “Oh, but it’s alright if I do.” You grumble, mimicking your mother’s actions. The fire sparks back in your mother’s eyes, stifling you. You nod and mime zipping your mouth with a sigh. “Good. Don’t you have class?” You shrug. “Yeah, I’m gonna be late though.” Soonhee waves over the man still hovering in the entryway. “Junwoo, can you get the car ready? Y/N has class.”

The great hulking man has kind honey brown eyes as he frowns at the queen. His coffee is long gone and you wonder if he’s sweating underneath all that thick black uniform. Honestly, he seems too cool for that inconvenience. “Your Majesty?” His voice rumbles carefully. “Oh, I’ll be here. We still have matters to discuss. Y/N, this is Junwoo, head of my guard and driver. Let him know where your school is.” You nod and wave them off, leaning in to the kiss your mother plants on your cheek. Junwoo walks with a scary amount of grace through your house, waiting at the door while you put your socks on at the step and wriggle on your shoes. You turn the corner out from the walking lane to the street, your jaw hitting the sidewalk at the sight of the small convoy of limousines lining the road. “A-are we taking all of these?” You rasp. Junwoo slides on his shades and shakes his head with a smile. “No, just the first one. We’ll be there before you know it.”

TAGLIST: @amarachi-luv

don’t hesitate to send an ask or dm to be added!

#caratwritersclub #seventeen au #seventeen fic #seventeen social media au #jihoon fic #woozi fic #mapsu fic #written

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robots-and-writing · 4 years ago

Text

The Road to Ruin (MTMTE Sunder part 3)

(TW: Needles, Surgery, blood, mind control, yandere, mentions of human experimentation)

Sunder left his beloved's room, human blood staining his hands. His room is directly beside it, and in the corner is a hole where he has a perfect, one way view of his dearest. Their set up is the same as last time, except this time a note is set on their chest. It's handwritten, in his scratchy yet legible handwriting.

"To my dearest most beloved little angel,

My dear, you've been out for a day after those nasty decepticons attacked us. I fended them off but they managed to injure you. I've dressed and bandaged your wounds and I will be back soon with some food and some clothes for you.

Your dearest Conjunx,

Sunder"

It was a messy letter, with a small bloodstain on the corner. But it would serve its purpose well. He checked his human supplies for anything he may be lacking. Blood transfusions ready to go in case of any injuries, water, food, and clothes. There was still more to get but the human would have to wait for them to arrive.

Sunder looked over to the altar dedicated to his beloved. Pictures of them adorned his walls, along with their name all over the walls written in energon. The altar had little keepsakes of them. One of their shirts he had stolen, a lock of their hair and a vial of their blood were his favorites. But his favorite thing of theirs? A recording. Taken without their knowledge back on earth, they had a lover there. They confessed under a tree to their old flame, and Sunder's spark broke in two at that moment. But one good thing came of that confession. A recording of his little angel, saying "I love you, more than anyone else. Despite your flaws and despite mine, we are meant to be."

Those words tasted like the most delicious memories, like the sweetest energon, and like the greatest victories. They repeated in his mind 24/7, and were what motivated him to continue on when it came to keeping as sane as he could be without them by his side.

But despite his best efforts, Sunder couldn't handle being without them. Seeing them with another person made his brain swim with thoughts of violence. He should use his powers to tear that wretched other human to shreds. But something made him stop himself.

What if my dear hates me?

Sunder wasn't exactly the friendliest looking cybertronian. Tall, broad and scary, with spikes and pointy bits sticking out of him, most humans would run away in terror. (Before being torn apart of course.) But after a few human experiments, his idea was made possible. Mnemosurgery works on humans. Not from a distance, that requires a brain module. But it could be done.

His first experiments were unsuccessful. Too many needles meant a full lobotomy and possibly making them brain dead. Too few needles and the results were more temporary and a much more thorough "coding" would be necessary. Some of them bleed out due to him accidentally hitting a major artery. Some starved as he didn't feed them right. And some couldn't handle being an experiment, so they threw themselves off the workbench onto the ground, committing suicide. It was a delicate balance.

At first he didn't want to alter his beloved too much. Just make them despise other humans. Then he realized that would just make them miserable. So then he wanted to make them like him. But that would be too easily undone. He had to go full in. Make him their guardian angel. Make him the only one they feel safe with. He is the only one they will ever love. He is what stops the universe from killing them.

Getting the human was a challenge. He could do it himself but that would run the risk of alerting the other Autobots to his presence and imprisoning him again. He could do something the humans called "Catfishing" but that requires patience. And that is not something he has ever had enough of. He finally settled on a bounty hunter. 10 million shanix, as long as not a hair on his precious human's head is harmed.

He got a ping from a famous bounty hunter. He had the human. "Rendezvous at the coordinates and bring the shanix." Sunder did, and the human was finally in his grasp. Kicking and scratching at his hand, they were a wild and untamed thing. Taking the human back to his ship he pet them gently on the head, far more gentle than he ever had been.

"Who are you? Why was I taken here? Are you going to kill me? I thought Autobots didn't harm us?" He only smiled.

"Are you even listening to me? I'd at least like to know if I'm going to die? Are you really just going to keep on petting me like some pet-"

"You're home now darling. And soon, you'll be whole. We're two sides of the same coin."

"Uh- WHAT? I have a partner, and I love them very much! Besides I don't even know who you are, now put me down before you break my arm or something?"

He deposited the human in a large glass enclosure, with a bed, sink and bathroom and a cup on the side of the sink.

"Is this... an enclosure? Am I a pet to you? Excuse me but I'm a person with a life to live, rent to pay, and a partner to love! I'm not for your sick entertainment!"

Sunder only looked at them with wonder and glee, like a kid on Christmas. He spoke in a spine-tingling, nerve-wracking voice, as if Satan himself was speaking through him.

"You my dear, are a unique creature. Small and insignificant in stature, yet bigger than anything in existence." His words did nothing to soothe them as he leaned in so close his eyes reflected their face like a mirror. "Humans are so short lived, yet manage to reek of sin. Even you! With your small head, and tiny little legs, you have managed to commit the worst atrocity of them all!"

"What did I do?"

"You promised yourself to someone other than me."

Sunder tilted his head in a way that was probably trying to get a better look at them but only brought tears of panic to their eyes.

"I don't- I don't understand! I don't think I deserve to die!"

"Kill you?" The confusion in his voice was true. Had his intent not come through clear with his words? "My dear! You are sorely mistaken. I am your Conjunx! Your other half! Or as humans put it, your husband?"

"HUSBAND!? Sir I hardly know you! And even if I did know you, I already have a boyfriend and I love him more than I will ever love you."

The hand Sunder had on the edge of the clear box the human turned to a fist, shards of glass bursting everywhere. It cut into the human and they hurriedly put their arms in front of themselves to protect their face.

"Now now. That walking pile of sin is far far away now. And there is nothing more you have to do with him."

"But-"

"You're bleeding darling. And while your blood would taste delicious, I can't afford to have you fall unconscious or worse."

Reaching for them with the hand that didn't have glass shards sticking out of it, he held them firmly in his hand and took them to a corner of the room that had medical supplies. Sunder pinned them to the table as they thrashed around with blood dripping everywhere. One limb at a time, he picked the pieces of glass out of them and dressed and bandaged the wounds. Judging by the screams of pain the human made, it stung terribly. Then Sunder moved them to the medical bed and strapped them to it and moved on to cleaning off their face. He patched them up with expert precision as they cried out hoping someone would rescue them.

"Hello? Anyone? Please, someone help me! This can't be happening to me!"

"You speak as if anyone will ever rescue you."

The human finally stopped moving and let Sunder work as his words set in. No one will ever come for them. No one will ever save them. Ever. Ever. Ever.

The human didn't even react anymore to the sting of the cleaning of their wounds. Nor when he set them in his hand, this time loosely and just sat there petting them with a look of wonder and some sick form of love. For once, his mouth was closed.

Sunder looked back on the next two days as a time where he had what he thought he always wanted, but had been in denial of one fundamental truth. Having his beloved is meaningless if he isn't their beloved. Sure they didn't resist his petting, or him telling them all about the last person he ate the memories of. But they never reacted. They only drank when he forced water in their mouth. His dearest didn't even eat and became lethargic and entirely nonresponsive. That's when he knew. It's time for you to be perfect.

That was also the day he realized he had been conned. He woke up and they were gone. All that was left of them was a fresh bloodstain where he had broken the glass a few days ago. The vent nearest to the glass box was open as well, meaning they had truly escaped. Sunder cursed himself and his oversight. But now he had a human to catch.

The first place he checked was his room. And sure enough, there was a stack of boxes the human must have climbed down and the door was open. They must be terrified. If they stayed with me they would be worry free. And they were terrified. Straining his audials, he heard a faint and distant whimpering from a hallway further down.

"Oh dear human, why do you feel the need to run?" He put his hand around the corner of the hallway, just to hear their muffled gasp. "With me, you will never feel any shame from your sinful memories, and you will have eternal happiness by my side."

Now backed into a corner, they stood strong and tall, looking him in the optics with nothing but pure revulsion at him.

"Sunder, eternal happiness by your side? How is that possible?" His hand dented the wall unconsciously. Their words hurt, but he was not surprised. "You tore my family to bits, kidnapped me and forgot to give me anything but water for 3 days! I could never be happy with you."

Yes. It's time now my dear. Now It's time for you to be perfect. He didn't bother trying to hide his smile as he reached his hand towards them. There was no trying to escape him now, they were cornered.

Back in the present, Sunder had been scrawling mortilus' name on the walls in the blood of his beloved. The walls had been written over multiple times, in both blood and energon which made his entire room smell of rust. He checked on the human one more time before going into recharge.

#heed the trigger warnings #mtmte #idw #mtmte sunder #maccadam #transformers #sunder #yandere #my writing

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pettyprocrastination · 4 years ago

Text

Rip Out Our Seams and Stitch Us Together

Maxwell Lord x Valerie Lord x Black!Reader

Chapter Three

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Straight up smut first thing in the fic, we startin’ off with a bang folks. Profanity, they stare at ur booty ;). Ur patience is TESTED by these rich idiots.

Chapter Summary: The great Maxwell lord is having trouble focusing lately, You have your first consultation with the famed Lord couple and realize their clashing styles and all around personalities may cause an issue (or cause you to kill somebody).

Tag List: @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @zeldasayer @readsalot73 @captainsamwlsn

Chapters: 1/2/3

(I will not stop using marilyn gifs for val she’s just so beautiful you guys hhhhh)

Max felt distracted. Muddled. He wasn’t sure what it was lately that had him in such a rut.

“Maxwell!” His secretary whimpered beneath him, his hand moved from gripping her hair to slapping over her mouth to try and silence her nails-on-a-chalkboard like voice. He wasn’t sure if anybody outside his office heard her, and if they did he couldn't care less. They knew by now to ignore any suspicious moans or groans and keep doing their job unless they wanted to lose it.

What she should have known by now is to never call him by his first name.

The company was doing good, it was doing great in fact. He and Valerie weren’t spending time together, which was usual, and Alastair was home for the summer. Nothing was out of place, so why did he feel off?

Maybe it was you.

That ridiculous seamstress with the even more ridiculous nickname and ridiculous outfits. I mean Stitches? What were you, a fucking dog?

Delilah, the secretary currently moaning beneath him like a cheap whore, tried to grip at his jacket with trembling hands as he pulled her closer and closer to her climax with each thrust. He slapped her hands away without even looking down at her, eyes squeezed shut as he chased his own release instead of attending to hers.

Valerie insisted he go to the “design consultation” with her today, which meant leaving his office in the middle of a goddamn work day to hear her prattle on about what color makes her feel the prettiest. Usually he’d stand his ground and refuse, but lately a break from work didn’t seem all that bad.

All because of his goddamn secretary.

The woman in question grabbed onto his wrist and cried against his hand, even muffled he could still hear her grating moans. Lately she’d been cuddly with him after each screw, trying to nuzzle his shoulder and ask for things like he was some pathetic sob paying for a sugar baby instead of her fucking boss.

He’d have to fire her soon, if her whiny voice didn’t do her in, the piss poor work ethic would.

But for a moment, when he looked down at her, with her back arched and eyes shut as she fluttered around his cock, he was reminded of that ridiculous seamstress, the little noise of surprise you made when he clamped a hand over your mouth, and just how soft your skin felt under his palm.

Maxwell would never admit this to anybody. But that image alone made him cum on the spot.

Maxwell Lord was a man who learned how to compartmentalize at a young age and never stopped doing so. He pulled out of the boneless woman beneath him, before cleaning himself up and tucking himself into his trousers while she laid against his desk, panting like a dog in the heat.

Not like she fucking did anything.

His ringed hand landed a stinging slap to her thigh that shocked her out of her blissful haze. “I’ll be out for the rest of the day, take my calls and let them know I won’t be back in until tomorrow.”

She blinked, watching owlishly as he grabbed his briefcase from his desk before walking out of his office. “Where are you going?” The way she sounded so disappointed and shaky as if he had broken a promise to her made him feel nauseous.

He didn’t bother giving her a response.

----

The moment his driver parked outside of the store, he saw a convertible drive up to the curb before stopping, he knew the cherry red color better than anyone, as it’s the same shade of the car he gifted Valerie for their five year anniversary.

She stepped out, avoiding the jump in the curb as she adjusted her hair and dress before her eyes landed on his car and flashed him a condescending smile.

Maxwell knew even though he was only two seconds later than she was, Valerie would still hold it over his head like a treat. He stepped out of the car, mindful of any gutter water around him this time and walked to his wife.

“I wish I could say you're fashionably late at least but-” Her blue eyes ran down his suit, brand name and costly before smirking. “-you didn’t even bring that to the table.”

He let out a short humorless laugh before taking the handle of the door.

“Oh? No witty remark about my outfit?” The woman feigned surprise as her husband raked his eyes down the baby blue dress that stopped just above her knees and fit her curves like a glove.

Valerie Lord held a doctorate and multiple books studying the human mind and the effects shaping childhood, she was an intelligent woman. Which meant she knew damn well just how good she looked.

She just wanted to hear him admit it.

“It looks good.” He said plainly, not hiding the way his eyes clung to the supple form of her thighs that she teased under a white sundress just last week.

The curve in her red lips was the closest he’d gotten to an honest smile from her in ages. “You should know. You bought it for me after all.”

“I’m a man of refined tastes.” Max answered simply before giving her an almost playful swat on the ass and opening the door for her.

The moment they entered the girl at the register from before, young and anxious, looked at them with wide eyes. A textbook laid open on the counter in front of her.

She gaped for a moment before Valerie smiled at her.

“Hello sweetheart.” His wife cooed, “We’re here for a consultation with the bosslady, mind letting her know for me?”

The girl pointed to an open door against the back wall. “She takes her consultations in that room.”

Valerie gave the young girl a quick pat on the cheek before walking into the room and calling out “Thank you dear!” over her shoulder.

“Did you have to talk to the kid?” Maxwell mumbled under his breath to his wife, who scoffed in reply.

“Well I wasn’t about to stand there in silence and scare the poor girl half to death like you were.”

Maxwell looked at her incredulously. “I was not scar-”

His denials were cut off upon entering the room, which was laid with multiple chairs surrounding a table, covered in books displaying different types of dress and suit styles, a few fabric swatches were spread out as well. But the main focus of the Lords was on you, currently bent over, digging through a large container in the corner of the room as you grumbled and huffed, hips swaying and ass raised high in the air as if presented to them like a gift.

One they admired greatly and for much too long to be deemed socially acceptable.

Valerie tilted her head to the side with a little hum, enjoying the view before her just as Maxwell did, before he eventually coughed into his fist to make themselves known.

You jumped up at an angle from surprise, accidentally thumping your head against the wall. A shouted curse left your lips as you rubbed your head.

“Hard at work or hardly working?” Maxwell droned.

“You're late.”

His wife smiled. “And you're exceptionally perky.”

“What?”

His elbow dug into her side. “What she meant to say was that we live busy lives. But we're here now so let’s get this over with.”

The three of you took seats at the table in the middle of the room, you handed each of them a design booklet before flipping open a blank notebook for yourself.

“Any initial idea’s the pair of you have?” You twirled the pencil between your fingers as you spoke. “Or at least any automatic no’s?”

“Nothing too loud.” Maxwell told you.

“Or too dull.” His wife added.

“No floral.”

“But don’t be afraid to use patterns.”

“No sparkles.”

“No tweed.”

“And absolutely no plaid.” They finished together. You stared at the list on your paper before blowing out a long breath.

“Alright. So you don’t want anything dull, but also not loud, but no patterns, but use patterns, nothing with sparkles, or tweed and-”

“No plaid.” They reminded you in unison.

“Uh, right. No plaid.” You didn’t enjoy them as separate people but somehow they were even worse together. “So is there anything the two of you can agree on wanting?”

“Color coordination.” Max told you. Your shoulders dropped with relief. Fucking finally.

“Okay. Okay that I can work with.” A steady stream of ideas began in your head. The accent colors of Maxwell’s suit would match the main color of Valerie’s dress.

“We’d have to match Alastair as well.”

Your pencil froze on the page. “Who?”

Maxwell’s brows cinched together. He seemed offended by the fact you didn’t know who was the poor bastard who got stuck with that ridiculous name.

“Our son.” He answered. “But don’t worry about making anything for him. He won’t be accompanying us anyways.”

“And why not?” His wife countered. She had turned in her chair to face her husband with an angry look. With each passing minute this started to feel more like couples counseling than a consultation to make them some fucking clothes.

“Because the gala is in September, dear.” His voice was so sickly sweet you could practically feel the patronization dripping off of it. “He’ll be back at the boarding school by then.”

Of course this kid goes to boarding school. Eventually you just zoned out their argument and began to draw up ideas. It’s probably better the kid is away from these two though. God forbid you meet what type of monster they made.

“For how much money you pay that damn school it’s a miracle you don’t know their schedule. He has a two week break in September at the same time of the gala.” “For what?” Max damn near shouted. At this point you abandoned your notebook and pencil in favor of rubbing your temples.

“I don’t know. Some dead president, I'm not on the school board!”

“Well maybe you-”

“ALRIGHT!”

The pair stopped arguing and shot back to you, eyes wide at the sheer audacity you had to shout at them.

Nobody shouted at them.

“I’ll make a suit for the kid, okay?” You explained weakly. “Could we please, just, get to the actual goddamn design you two want?”

Valerie stared at you, before looking at her husband who had the same “Well I’ll be damned” look on his face as her. She tilted her head to the side and he shrugged in response.

The heavy use of non-verbal communication they had just made you feel like even more of an outsider.

“Well I don’t see why not.” Maxwell sighed, grabbing one of the books in front and flipped through the suits in it. “I blocked out the rest of my day for this anyways.”

The pair spent the next hour and a half flipping through design books and pointing out to you what they liked and what they hated.

They seemed to hate a lot.

But you still learned enough about them to cross out some ideas and begin finalizing others. While Maxwell could wear a solid colored dark suit, he didn’t box himself in that way. He enjoyed a notch lapel type with pinstripes, and seemed quite partial to robin egg blue given how often he pointed out the color on other designs.

Valerie enjoyed solid color dresses rather than those with patterns on them, and while she often wore clothes made to hug her figure, each gown she pointed out flared out at the waist, reminiscent of a princess at a ball.

Their son, well you had no idea what the kid liked. But given he was a child, he probably hated most suits, as certain brands were just as scratchy as they were expensive, so you made note to find something especially soft to make it out for their child, who’s suit would most likely mirror his father’s.

Eventually you pushed away from the table, four pages full of notes and concepts as you rubbed your eyes. “I think that will be enough for today.”

“Poor thing.” Maxwell simpered with pursed lips. “Are we tiring the baby?”

Valerie slapped her husband’s shoulder. “Maxwell don’t be rude. Of course the poor girl is exhausted. Just look at the bags beneath her eyes!”

You spared a glance up at them to place a hand over your heart. “It truly is a blessing to be working with you both. A gift if I’m being honest.”

Valerie stood up from the table and set a hand on your shoulder as you walked them out. When she walked close enough you were surrounded with the citrus perfume she wore the last time she came over. “Oh we’re just kidding. You show a lot of promise Stitches, don’t disappoint and we might just keep you around.” She bumped her hip against yours with a coy smile, you did your best to ignore the funny flips your stomach did at the suggestion of them liking you so much they return for your work again and again and again.

“Which wouldn't be that hard.” Maxwell smirked at you and waved a blase hand through the air while the other opened the door for his wife. “The standards aren’t set very high given the fact that your own sense of style has you dressing like a hippie liberal arts teacher.”

The door slowly closed behind them as they walked to their cars, but before it could shut completely you poked your head out to say. “Those are some mighty big words coming from the guy dressed like a car salesmen with a secret latex fetish.”

Even with the door shut you could hear his wife’s shrieking laughter.

Authors note: Slooooowwww burrrrrnnn babey.Now that they consultation is done we can move on to these assholes just bursting into your store to “see your progress” and then TENSION WHILE GETTING THEIR MEASUREMENTS. Also Maxwell lord is so starved of actual chemistry and love that the mere thought of a woman he may be actually attracted to he BUSTS that second lmao. Alastair will be included in the fic!! Wrote headcanons for him last night n i got all soft and emotional. But no joke writing this fic and doing headcanons for it is honestly so fun and relaxing for me so if you want to be tagges or talk hcs PLEASE send them my way I love this ot3 of power bisexuals.

#maxwell lord #maxwell lord x reader #Maxwell Lord x Valarie Lord x reader #maxwell lord x valerie lord x reader #valerie lord #valerie lord x reader #stitches #ww 1984 #ww1984 #pedro pascal x reader #x reader #imagine #Pedro Pascal #Maxwell Lord x You #Pedro Pascal x You #Pedro Character fic #WW84 #WW84 Fic

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ofc-mrgguk · 5 years ago

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Roommates {PJM}

Pairing: Park Jimin x female reader

Genre: Smut (roommate Jimin)

Summary: You come home from getting groceries to find your roommate has read your fantasies about him. When you try to have some alone time in a bath, he finds a way to include himself.

Warnings: Masturbation (mentions, alone, and mutual), snoop-ass Jimin, bath sex, blowjob, switch Jimin, a lot of moaning, bad writing,

AND MOST IMPORTANTLY

aftercare and praise kink

———————————————————

“I’m home!” You called out to your roommate. The house was silent, but you knew he was home because today was his day off. You walked in, stumbling as you placed groceries on the kitchen counter.

You assumed Jimin was sleeping, taking a nap to make up for his hard work lately. You finished putting the groceries up, walking to the couch in the living area. You sat down, taking a moment to think about the rest of your day. What do you have planned?

First, you’ll watch some tv and swipe through hook up apps, none of the articulated choices satisfying your hungry needs to just be cared for instead of pushed around. Although, being pushed into a wall did seem appetizing to the hidden, watering lips as the thought raced through your mind.

Second, you’ll pester Jimin to make food, only to end up making a simple microwaveable cup of ramen. Maybe if you’re lucky, he’ll hardboil an egg for you. But, Jimin refuses to cook nice things for you due to the countless amount of times you’ve teased him with food only to eat it all by yourself.

Third, maybe you’ll go take a nice, long bath. The showerhead running under the water with the clean, pressurized feeling eating at your entrance. But that alone won’t be enough. You’ll most likely have a finger twirling at the knot of nerves you call a clitoris, while you bite your lip, praying Jimin can’t hear your whines echo off of the shower tiles. He teased you last time, breathing out mocking moans. Of course, you didn’t hold back then, you thought he’d be out longer.

Fourth, you’ll probably go to sleep. Nothing fun with that other than the eight percent chance you may have a dream involving sex. Even then, there’s only a four percent chance you’ll orgasm because of it.

You blinked, wondering why your mind was moving towards these sexual thoughts. Nothing visual was turning you on, so what could it be?

You pushed your hair behind your ears, looking towards the bedrooms. There was a noise that you could almost put your finger on, but is that really what you’re hearing, or it just your imagination.

Of course, the sound got louder, and higher pitched. Not only that, but there was a lower sound, almost mimicking it. You knew exactly what was going on. You quietly stood from the couch, tip-toeing your way to Jimin’s bedroom door, the sound getting louder and then stopping. You raised your eyebrows, hearing words. Maybe you were just too horny to think it could be anything else. You opened the door, looking in to see Jimin’s laptop opened in his lap, his chin against his chest as he lightly snored. The laptop was blaring a TV show. There must have been a sex scene.

“Jimin?” You shut his laptop, moving it away from him. You had yet to greet him. His eyes fluttered open tiredly.

“Yeah?” He groaned, stretching his arms above his head. You felt bad for instantly taking his groans in a dirty way. After all, he was just your roommate.

“Do you want to make some dinner?” You asked. Jimin scoffed, rolling onto his side so that he wasn’t facing you. “I just figured we both might be hungry and I just bought groceries.” You raised your eyebrows.

“Do it yourself, y/n, I’m tired.” He whined. You sighed, moving away from him.

”Fine.” you walked out of his room, shutting the door behind you. You skipped the first thing in your list, maybe you could go ahead and move on to the next.

You grabbed a cup of ramen, pulling the lid off and taking placing it back on the counter to grab your kettle. You filled the kettle with water, placing it on a burner to be heated and then leaning against the counter with patience.

“Ramen?” Jimin groaned from his bedroom door. You looked to him, your mouth salivating. Grey sweatpants. He rubbed his right hand up and down his chest as a yawn left his lips. “What did you plan to make for me, hm?” He walked past you and to the fridge. Your eyes trailed down from his chest to the obvious places of his pants. You cleared your throat.

“You’ve been home all day, why couldn’t you make something for yourself?” You whined, turned back to the kettle. You could hear the water bubbling.

“Because we didn’t have any food.” Jimin shot back with a bit of attitude. He hummed, sitting on the counter, facing your helpless face. “Do you think you’re boss around here?” He laughed. You glared at him, his face changing. “It was a joke, y/n.”

The kettle began to squeal, his hand reaching for the handle as yours did. You swatted his hand away.

“I can do it myself.” You sighed. His teasing was chipping at your core and that bath sounded amazing right now.

“I know you can.” Jimin sighed. “But you want someone to do it for you.” He turned off the burner. You looked into his eyes questionably. Those words felt so familiar. Jimin leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling with a smirk.

“What did you do?” You asked. He tilted his head down, looking at you.

“Well, remember when you logged into your email on my laptop because yours had a virus?” He raised his eyebrows. “So, I went to check my email today and yours was still logged in. Turns out you sent yourself an email titled ‘Fuck’.” He licked his lips. Your face went red.

“I hate you.” You pulled the kettle to your cup of ramen, pouring the water onto the noodles.

“No, I think you’ve been thinking of me.” Jimin hopped off of the counter, pushing you against the cold cabinet in front of you. You slightly gasped as his hands slid past your hips and against your stomach.

“Stop.” You whined, pushing him off. “It was a dream I had, there was no meaning behind it.” You lied. Jimin hummed, pulling his arms away.

“Okay.” He sighed, walking towards our living area. You stood at the counter, your ramen soaking in hot water.

You shut your eyes, trying to gain control. Your mind kept moving to the bath.

“Do you want this ramen? I think I’m going to take a bath.” You looked rough Jimin, his eyes moving between you and the ramen.

“Uh, sure, will you bring it to me?” He asked. You rolled your eyes, bringing the hot ramen to him. He looked into your eyes with a smirk. “Thank you.” He licked his lips. You nodded, quickly making your way to the bathroom. You started the water, waiting for the tub to fill up. The TV in the other room was blaring, almost as if it was on purpose.

“Harder!” A girl cried. Your eyes grew wide.

“Jimin!” You called. The sound paused. “What are you watching?” You asked through the door.

“An American movie.” He called back. “Lots of sex, I might have to change it.” His voice held a teasing tone. You rolled your eyes, anxiously awaiting for the moment where you could spend time on yourself. You waited five more minutes before turning off the water. An excited smile spread across your face, another smile tingling below. You quickly stripped and got into the bathtub, pulling the shower curtain shut.

“Finally.” You sighed to yourself, reaching into the water and between your legs. You rubbed a circle around your clit, feeling your body begin to get hot.

Jimin’s thumb rubbed a circle against your clit, his breath heavy just from watching you tremble at his touch. The water splashed loudly, but it wasn’t like either of you cared. He began stroking his member, shutting his eyes. He listened to your quiet moans, wishing they were louder. “Louder, dear.” He’d moan. You reach back, placing on hand on the side of the bathtub, the other circling with his finger.

“Y/n, I made a mess, I need to wash my hands,” Jimin knocked on the door. You groaned.

“Use the kitchen sink.” You continued circling, taking deep breaths to not seem suspicious.

“There’s no more soap in there.” Jimin whined. You licked your lips.

“Fine, no peeking.” You allowed his access. Jimin came into the bathroom, turning on the sink faucet. You stopped for a moment, only to make sure he was actually washing his hands. He was. You continued, lifting your clit slightly above the water that way it didn’t sound like you were pleasuring yourself. Your eyes stayed shut.

“Done,” Jimin sighed, turning off the sink. “Bye, y/n.” The door opened, then closed. You sighed, letting your pelvis drop back into the water. You circled faster, your legs beginning to shake.

“Fuck,” you moaned quietly. There was a slight chuckle that caused you to pause, breathing heavily. You opened your eyes, not seeing anyone. You peeked out of the shower curtain, noticing Jimin sitting on the sink counter, a smirk on his face.

“What’re you thinking about?” He sighed. You didn’t know what to say. Your roommate just caught you masturbating after giving him ramen you actually kind of wanted. You breathed out, feeling defeated.

“Jimin, get out.” You sighed. He smirked, hopping off of the counter and taking a step closer to you.

“Y/n, I hope you’re thinking of me,” he cooed. “I hope you’re watching me push myself inside of you, my fingers rubbing at your clit.” He grabbed the edge of the shower curtain, looking to your desperate eyes. He smirked. “May I?” He asked. You nodded.

“Jimin,”

“Don’t say my name unless you’re moaning it.” Jimin sat on the edge of the tub, his eyes on your hand that was resting on your clit. “Continue.” He looked to your eyes. You hesitated, not sure if this was a hallucination or real life. Well, you know it’s real life, but it’s so hard to process.

“I-“

“Y/n,” Jimin sighed. “Touch yourself.” His eyes intimidated you. You nodded, gulping as you rubbed your clit in circles once again. You breathed heavily, shutting your eyes. “Open your eyes,” Jimin demanded, you looked directly into his pupils, circling even faster.

“Shit,” you moaned out. Jimin hummed, shutting his eyes.

“Louder,” he cupped his hand around the crotch of his pants, rubbing gently. You tried to go even faster, your legs shaking.

“Jimin,” you moaned out, your voice echoing on the tiles of the bathroom. Jimin moaned in response.

“Yes, baby, I’m right here.” He sighed. You shut your eyes again, the heat coming off of you felt excruciatingly pleasurable. You moaned over and over again, louder and louder. But through the moans, Jimin said, “stop.” You stopped, finding it so hard to keep your hand still when you were getting so close.

“I want to finish.” You breathed out. Jimin hummed, standing from the side of the bathtub. He pushed down his sweatpants, then his boxer briefs followed. You admired his length, surprised. You had always imagined... smaller. Jimin pulled off his shirt.

“I’ll let you finish.” Jimin stepped into the bathtub. You were speechless. “Up.” He commanded. You sat up, eyes level with the one thing you wanted inside of you. “Go ahead.” Jimin looked down at you. You smirked, leaning closer to his dick. You licked from base to tip, before wrapping your lips around him. He moaned, placing his hands on the shower walls. You glance up at him, seeing his head falling back as you take him all in. “Good girl,” he moans out. “Fuck.” You feel his hips start to move with you. “Down,” he pulls himself away from you, your teeth biting at your bottom lip. He gets down, sitting in the water.

You lean close to him, your lips by his ear and your hand around his dick. You begin to stroke him, placing a kiss on his jaw.

“How bad did you want this?” You ask. He only moans out, looking into your eyes. He chuckles and drops his head back. “I want you inside me.” You whisper. Jimin hums our a moan, trying to compose himself.

“Then take a seat,” he grabs your hips, clutching tightly so your wet body doesn’t slip through his hands. He squeezes your sides, admiring your body. You align yourself with his member, sliding right on. Both of you moan out together, small laughs coming from each of your pleasures. Jimin guides you up and down his cock, watching the way the water ripples around you two.

“Oh,” you moan, a hand grasping for the wall next to you.

“You’re doing amazing.” Jimin praises you, speeding up the way he moves you. You smile, your hands clutching at the edge of the bathtub and the wall. Jimin moans, lifting his pelvis to get deeper into you. His hands move up, pulling you closer, then pushing you back. “God, you’re so beautiful.” He rubs his thumb over your clit, releasing a loud moan from your lips. “Yes, baby, be loud.” He rubs faster.

The bathroom has breaths echoing from every wall, moans bouncing on every surface. Jimin’s hand tightens on your side, the other rubbing so fast, you could barely keep yourself above him. “You first, y/n.” Jimin moaned out, you felt it bubbling. The climax you’d been waiting for. You ride harder, faster, your toes cramping. Then it hits. You gasp, body shaking in Jimin’s hands. You feel Jimin’s member twitch inside of you, then a loud moan signals his release. You breathe heavily, grabbing his face and placing your lips against his.

You pull away, resting your hands on his shoulders.

“Oh my god,” you shut your eyes. Jimin runs a hand over your hair with a sigh.

“You feel so good around me,” Jimin sighed, a visible gulp at his throat. You chuckled, resting your forehead against his. You let out a hum to show him you still felt it. “Fuck.” Jimin takes a deep breath, holding under you. “Up,” he whispers. You move up, allowing him to move out of you. He gently lets you back down into the water, a sigh on his lips.

“You can use my towel, just get me another one.” You smiled. Jimin smirked, stepping out of the bathtub. He grabbed your towel, wrapping it around his hips.

“I’ll grab you a water,” he licked his lips, smiling at you. “That was really great, thank you.” He stepped out of the bathroom, smiling at you before shutting the door.

You chuckled, laying your head back.

“Wow.”

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sabraeal · 4 years ago

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Root & Vine

The third fic but the fourth most popular pairing in my Holiday Rare Pair poll; I wanted to give myself more time to work on the Zen/Kihal fic (which now has gotten moved to January, so I don’t skimp on the quality). When it came time to pick out a concept for this pairing, this canon-compliant prequel fic won in a landslide! The events in this are meant to parallel some that happen in @bubblesthemonsterartist’s Dead Men Tell No Tales: Long Live the King, only from the view in Lilias

“Mother?”

The second prince hovers just outside the threshold, book tucked against his stomach like a shield. He’s ten-- only a month ago he’d been trotted out in front of all the peers before being tucked straight back into his nursery so the lords could get on with their drinking and dancing and plotting-- but he looks two years younger. The runt of the royal litter, baby fat still clinging to his jaws and cheeks the way he still clings to Her Majesty.

Her Majesty, who hasn’t stopped looking south since they arrived.

“Mother?” he tries again, voice lifting, like a pup trying to get attention from his dam.

The queen doesn’t stir, doesn’t even give a sign that she’s heard. Just keeps standing with her back to him, hands clutched to her chest. He might call it praying, if her eyes strayed anywhere but at the horizon.

Zakura clears his throat, pointed. “Your Majesty?”

Now that gets her. She startles, the long hem of her nightgown whirling around slippered heels. Her gowns run large nowadays; the shoulder slips before she can catch it, baring a flash of flesh carved from ivory, a delicate rounding over the bone--

And yellow mottled with a faded brown. There’s so much vulnerable skin to take in, but that’s what his eyes fix on. Days ago, it’d been purple. Misjudged an entry, she laughed, the carriage rattling beneath them. That was how she always was, his queen: beauty and grace and never finding the door on the first go.

“Zen.” The tension sags from her shoulders. “I didn’t--” her lips close over her words-- “do you need something, darling?”

“My stories.” His cheeks flush all the way back to his ears. “I mean...would you read to me? I’m going to bed.”

Slim fingers tangle in the lace at her neckline. “Oh, do you need...?”

“No!” The kid looks ready to melt into the stones themselves. “I can read them myself. It’s only...Izana sometimes would.”

“I...” Her breath rattles in her chest. “I suppose...”

“Let me,” Zakura says, jumping to his feet. The prince stares at him with rounded eyes, and oh, His Majesty’s get he might be, but there’s more than a little of his mother in that blue. “Been a long while since I’ve read a good yarn.”

“Oh, they’re just-- just children’s stories.” His boots shuffle bashfully in the hall. “Tales of knights and such. Nothing, er, interesting.”

“Come now, Highness.” He gives the kid a grin, the sort he’d give any of the other men in the guard, the kind that says you’re one of us. “Who loves tales about knights more than a knight himself? And I’ve heard you’ve got an eye for the best.”

“Well.” That small chest puffs up behind his book. “I have read quite a lot of them.”

Zakura hooks his hands on his hips. “There you go then.”

His Highness hesitates. “All right,” he says after a long moment, “As long as you don’t mind.”

“‘Course not.” He hazards a glance over his shoulder, and she’s right here, his queen, her grateful gaze ready to greet him. His place is ever at her side, but for now--

Well, her son is a part of her too. “It would be my pleasure, Highness.”

“I hath invited you into my home, dear sir, and you throw these sordid accusations at me?” the foul lord cried as he set down his cup. “Do you not expect me to seek satisfaction from you?”

“Nay, my lord,” proclaimed the valiant Sir Akihiko. “I thought you too cowardly to meet my blade, though I relish in the honor--”

Zakura scowls down at the page. “Are they going to duel?”

The second prince stares up at him with those wide, guileless eyes, the very mirror of Her Majesty’s, and says, “Of course they are.”

“But why?”

“The Lord of Montivale is a villain,” the kid explains with beleaguered patience. “And good must triumph over evil.”

“I’m not saying he can’t kill him.” There’s an illumination that half the page, all fancy maile borders and knights with sabatons that look like socks, every one of them holding a chalice. “But look, he’s right there, drinking with him. Why not slip some poison into his cup and suggest a toast?”

The prince sputters. “He can’t do that?”

“Why not? It’d be cleaner.”

“A villain must be slain through righteous combat,” he shrills, “not through-- though--”

“Being smart?”

Chubby childhood cheeks puff out in distress. “Trickery.”

“There’s no reason for it.” It’d be rude to laugh in the face of a kid who could, with a few convenient accidents, become king, so Zakura restrains himself to a muffled chuckle. “Learn this now, little prince: a man should always fight smarter, not harder. The best way to win a fight is to never pick up a sword to begin with.”

Flannel sleeves cross over the bedclothes, his chubby face twisted away in temper. “That’s not what my father says.”

A king has men to die for him, he doesn’t say. Not like a prince would get the distinction. “If Sir Akihiko had any brain beneath that helm, he’d have dropped some arsenic into Duke Montivale’s glass and ended this whole thing before it started.”

“No!”

Zakura heaves a sigh, settling against the headboard. “Listen-- what would have happened if Akihiko had lost?”

The prince blinks up at him with his mother’s eyes. “He can’t lose. He’s the finest knight in the realm. No one can beat him.”

“Right, right.” Children’s tales always liked to muddle the point. “But I mean, what if something happened? What if he tripped over an uneven stone? Or misjudged one of those stairs? What happens then?”

His little mouth works, wrapping around words he can’t quite dare to say. “Then...Duke Montivale...lives?”

“And now there’s no better knight to defeat him.” He leans down, meeting that kid’s wide-open gaze. “When someone has to go, you don’t rely on chance.”

The prince chews on that for a moment. “But a knight can’t just...poison someone.”

“Why not?”

“Poison,” the prince informs him with the sort of gravitas most councilors only achieve in their twilight years, “is a woman’s weapon.”

“Hah!” Zakura grunts, smile widening into a grin. “And what if the knight’s a woman?”

The royal mouth purses into a disapproving bud. “That’s not possible.”

“Not now,” he hums, “but who knows about later...?”

The kid stares at him, impassive. “I’m tired,” he declares. Tired of you, his tone implies. “You may leave.”

“As my liege wishes.” He levers himself to his feet with a groan. The other guards had warned him-- it was a tough life walking the walls, and the knees were always the first to go.

“Blow out the lamps.” Quieter, His Highness adds, “And thank you, sir.”

Zakura smiles into the dark. “Anytime, Highness.”

Her Majesty is still awake, right where he left her half an hour before, gaze fixed out toward the horizon.

“His Highness is tucked in.”

The queen of all of Clarines and Yuris jumps. Startles right out of her skin, collar pulling just so, a mottled yellow bruise blooming at the base of her neck, and, ah, he hasn’t seen that one before. It’s oblong, decently sized-- he could probably fit it under the pad of his thumb--

“Ah.” The sound pulls her lips roughly into the shape of a smile. “Good.”

He ranges into the room with a saunter, pausing to perch on the settee’s arm. “I don’t think I impressed him with my skills.”

She blinks. “Oh, ah-- your storytelling, you mean. He does like them to be told as they are. No embellishments.” Her mouth bends into a rueful curve. “He’s comforted by their regularity. By his ability to anticipate the events.”

“Eh.” He twitches his shoulders in a shrug. “One day he’ll learn life is all about the embellishments.”

“Ah, perhaps. But I think...” Her Majesty’s gaze drops to her hands. “Some of us prefer the steadiness.”

There’s a strangeness to the silence in these rooms. Her Majesty has never been one to fill the air with empty noise-- he likes that about her-- but when it’s just the two of them she always has an occupation. Stitching, sketching, writing letters to place he’s never seen; her hands are never idle, and her chatter always pleasant. Not enough to seem like an imposition, but enough so that he doesn’t feel like the furniture. Comfortable, that’s what it’s like with his queen.

But not tonight.

“Missing home?” he asks, when he can’t stand the quiet.

Her eyes dart to his, blinking wide. “Ah..?”

He nods toward the window. “You haven’t stopped looking since we got here. South.”

“Oh...no.” Her lips rub together. “Wistal had never been my home. I mean, not until the children.”

Her children, with only one who came with her. With one who chose to stay behind. It only makes sense; an heir should favor his sire.

Doesn’t mean he needs to think better of that little prick. Zakura likes to save is charity for people who can’t afford it. “Not to worry, Your Grace. I’m sure His Majesty has everything well in hand.”

He could swear he hears her murmur, that’s what I’m afraid of.

But it can’t be, not when barely a breath later she says, “I don’t miss it. To answer your question, sir.” Her fingers clench in her nightgown. “It’s...important that I’m here.”

Now that’s a strange way to look at a holiday. “I guess it’s always good to take a rest.”

“Ah...” It’s half a laugh, half a sigh. “Yes. A rest. A respite.”

Zakura clears his throat as he watches the candles melt into wax caves. “May I ask what you’re thinking about, Majesty?”

Her breath rattles in the silence. “Gardening.”

“I think I’ll be up a long while yet.”

Zakura sways on his feet, blinking up at her with bleary eyes. Ah, a rookie move, nearly falling asleep on the job.

Her Majesty only smiles at him, kind. “You should get to sleep, sir. A young man needs his rest.”

“No, no.” he shakes his head. “I’m supposed to watch over you, Majesty. Can’t do that if I’m laying down.”

Her mouth bends into the barest frown. “I’ll be up a long time...”

He pushes himself off the wall, and comes to sit by her, the chill from the glass seeping into his clothes. “Then I’ll stay up with you. As long as you like.”

She stares at him a long moment, her eyes as dark as the night itself, and nods. “Thank you, sir.”

He offers her the softest smile a rough mouth like his can make. “I’m your man, Majesty. I always will be.”

Her hand lands on his, soft and cold and pale. “You will never know how much that means to me.”

“Could I ask you something, sir?”

Zakura blinks, dragging his gaze back to the woman beside him, the one who has not moved her hand this last half hour. He doesn’t think he imagined her palm warming over his. “Anything, Majesty.”

His queen hesitates, licking her lips before she asks, “Have you ever heard of hogstrife?”

“Hogstrife?” His mind strains to piece together the vaguest picture. “That’s a plant, isn’t it? Called it widow’s weed where I’m from, I think.”

“Yes.” Her voice is clipped, crisper than he’s heard outside of a scolding. “The pharmacists use it. Not for medicinal purposes, but because it releases a scent that keeps pests from eating the plants.” Her mouth takes a wry bent. “The bugs avoid her like people do a widow.”

“Ah.” He clears his throat. “Yeah, then I’ve heard of it before.”

“They consider it essential to growing their gardens.” Her long fingers pick out an anxious rhythm on the arm of her chair; the hand in his is still. “To grow such large plots and harvest what they need for the palace...it would be impossible, if the pests could not be kept at bay.”

Zakura can only nod. Apparently, Her Majesty had not lied about having gardening on her mind.

“But hogstrife can’t grow unchecked,” she continues, gaze still riveted south. “It’s roots are thick and its leaves are broad, and if it is not regularly pruned what once protected against predation chokes the life out of the garden instead.”

“I...see.”

“And what does one do when such a thing occurs? When what one protected ruins instead?” Her voice creaks under the strain of her words. “Should it be left to destroy as its due?”

“No.” He’s never been much for plants, but he’s hacked down some overgrowth in his time. “They take them out, don’t they?”

He knows they do; the men talk about it sometimes-- stalks like tree trunks and noodle-armed herbalists with saws. They laugh at it over their cups.

“They do,” she says darkly. “Right at the root.”

Doesn’t seem so funny now.

He clears his throat, uncomfortable for no reason he can name. “I didn’t realize you knew so much about gardening, Majesty.”

“Oh...” Her mouth twists into a bitter smile. “It’s a recent interest.”

“Sir Zakura.” The hour is far too late for talk. Or rather, too early. “May I ask whose crest you wear?”

He stares down at his sleeve, the jeweled star of Clarines bright upon his sleeve. Some of the men said it was a flower-- for the Wisterias, of course-- but he’d never seen it, not really. “The crown’s.”

“Is that who you serve?” The words are very nearly slurred; Her Majesty cannot be far from sleep now, no matter how hard she tries. “The crown?”

“No.” The word comes out barely above a murmur. “I serve you, Your Majesty.”

There’s fatigue in every line of her beautiful face, but her eyes are sharp, focused on him. “Can I trust you?”

His hand presses to his chest, and oh, he’s too tired to keep himself from saying, “I’m yours. Always.”

She leans, so close that her breath ghosts over his skin. “Will you protect my family, no matter what storm may come?”

He blinks. “His Majesty charged me to--”

“No.” Fear burns bright in her eyes now. “If only my word compelled you, would you protect them?”

His hand tightens around her. “Until my dying breath.”

The moment is taut between them, her eyes searching his, and oh, he would give her anything if it would help her believe him, if it would prove his devotion to her, but--

“All right.” She leans back, breath rushing from her in a sigh. Her whole body slumps. “All right. I think...it would be best if I rest my head. I’ve kept you up...far too late.”

“Don’t think of it, my lady.” He smiles, though the humor no longer fits on his face. “Just doing my job.”

She hums, absent. “And let us hope you keep on doing it.”

He lingers, for a while.

With Her Majesty tucked in tight like a babe, his duty is lifted, his own head free to rest, but still, still--

Something keeps him pacing by the window. Only for a few minutes, no more than a quarter of an hour, but it’s enough. He’s here when the knock comes.

A nervous man stands outside the queen’s door, small and inconsequential, wringing his hands. A steward of Arleon’s, perhaps; he hasn’t bothered to keep track of all the clerks and maids and comings and goings.

“I presume,” he begins, drawing up to his full height, “that this is important.”

“My lord,” the man pipes, not quite meeting his eyes. “I must-- the queen--”

“Come on, man!” His grip on the door tightens with the knot in his gut. “Out with it.”

“It’s the king!” The man’s breath heaves, as if he’s run here. “The king is dead!”

“Dead?” A strange sense of cold certainty fills him. “How?”

“F-foul play.” He prays, in the breath the man takes, that it was a coup, a sword between the ribs, anything but-- “P-poison.”

If he could give his queen this one last, restful sleep, he would, but the death of kings does not keep. If anything it rots like the corpses themselves, growing ranker with each passing hour.

He steps into her room again, only moments from when he left it, watching the slow rise and fall of her back. The sun has begun to creep over the horizon, sending pale shafts across the bed, showing where the collar of her gown has ridden down in sleep, baring--

A bruise. A large, patchwork round at the nape of her neck, and the edges of another two, smaller, on each shoulder. A handprint.

“My lady,” he chokes, bending down. What are we to do, when what protects ruins instead?

She hums blearily, opening one eye. “Sir...?”

Who is it you serve? “It’s your husband,” he manages. “The king is dead.”

“Dead?” Still delirious from sleep, she smiles. Poison is a woman’s weapon. “Good.”

She turns over, burying herself more deeply into the pillows, and sleeps, deeper than he has ever seen her before.

Can I trust you, sir?

“Always, Majesty,” he murmurs, kneeling at her bedside, finger tangling with hers. “You will always have me.”

#zakura/haruto #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #my fic #ans #mad king kain #allusions to domestic violence #when this fic got chosen i was like #guys i really don't think y'all know where this fic is gonna go #guys i think you might regret this #this will not be a nice fic #WELL I HOPE YOU ARE ALL HAPPY >:3c

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sanderssidesfanfiction · 4 years ago

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If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Seventy Six

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

November 5th, 2002

“Emile!” Remy exclaimed, shoving Emile to the side and turning the oven off. “What did you do?!”

“I tried to help melt the cranberry sauce!” Emile defended. “It was doing just fine!”

“Really?” Remy asked. He turned the pan upside down slowly, and not one drop of cranberry sauce left the pan. “It’s completely congealed, Emile!”

“So sue me!” Emile said. “I was trying to help!”

“You. Are never allowed near my cranberry sauce again, you hear?” Remy said. “Never.”

Emile huffed and Remy just stared him down. Emile threw his hands in the air. “Fine, whatever.”

Remy shook his head. “Now we won’t have any cranberry sauce to go with the turkey I was making. And this practice Thanksgiving dinner was going so well,” he lamented.

November 28th, 2002

The knocking started at eleven in the morning, when Emile was talking with his parents in the kitchen and Remy was reading a book on the couch. Emile glanced to Remy, and Remy glanced back. Both of them were wondering if the knocker was who they thought it was.

When it happened again, harder and rougher, that seemed to be answer enough for Remy, who shrank into the couch. Emile held up a hand to keep Remy where he was, and peered through the peephole. Sure enough, Remy’s mom was on the other side. He opened the door with an irritated scowl. “Go away,” he said simply. “You’re not wanted here.”

“What took you so long to answer?” she snapped.

“I was having sex with my boyfriend,” Emile deadpanned. “It’s Thanksgiving, and my parents are over. I was intending to share some time with them on this holiday, along with my boyfriend. If you’re looking for Remy, he’s not going to be talking to you.”

Remy’s mother sneered at him and he just stood there, decidedly unimpressed. “Yes, Misses Picani, we all know you’re of the opinion I’m going to Hell for being bisexual. Can we move on and can you get lost before I call the cops?”

“I know Remy is here!” she snarled. “I demand to speak to him!”

“I’ll have to ask my boyfriend if that’s okay,” Emile said. “He doesn’t like yelling and sometimes the neighbors will complain.”

“Oh, move!” Remy’s mother snarled, shoving her way past Emile and into the apartment.

“Please, come in,” Emile muttered darkly under his breath, closing the door.

Remy’s mother stood at the edge of the couch, her arms crossed. “Remington, come with me,” she snarled.

Remy, for his part, was not looking up from the awkward position he had contorted himself into to read his book. “Hey, Mom, can I get you anything to drink?”

“Remington, you are coming with me, now!” his mother snapped.

Remy looked up, craned his neck to look past his mother, to where Emile’s mom was. “Mom? You didn’t answer my question.”

Emile howled with shocked laughter as Remy’s mother went red in the face and Emile’s mom was trying to hold back snickers. “No, thank you dear, I’m fine.”

“Okay,” Remy said, returning to his book.

“Remington!” Remy’s mother snapped. “You are coming home with me, now!”

“I’m already home,” Remy said. And judging by the look in Remy’s eyes, he was dangerously close to dissociating, and Emile knew it.

“I already said you’re not welcome. Leave,” Emile said to Remy’s mother.

“Remington Samuel Picani, you will come with me right now if you ever want to see anyone from this family again!” Remy’s mother hissed. “That includes Tobias!”

Emile felt his patience snap as he watched Remy’s white-knuckled grip on his book tighten. “I told you, Misses Picani, you’re not welcome here! Get out! Now!” Emile snapped. “I truly hoped that you were above blackmail to get what you wanted, but clearly I was wrong! And since you can’t seem to understand it, I’ll spell this out for you: using contact with one of your children on another one of your children is despicable and disgusting! I know you know that Remy cares for Toby! Why can’t you just be kind and give Remy the number to his brother’s cell and then leave our lives for good?! I don’t understand why you’re so insistent on having ‘your’ son back when you don’t even know him well enough to identify him in a crowd of people!”

Remy’s mother turned to Emile with a snarl. “You should keep your nose out of situations where it doesn’t belong!” she growled.

“I’ll stop when you leave us alone and let us have our peace,” Emile said.

Remy’s mother stalked over to Emile and raised her hand, but instead of flinching away like she must have been used to, Emile grabbed her hand in a vice so tight his own fist was shaking, and she cried out in pain. Emile dragged her to the front door and shoved her into the hallway. “I said you’re not welcome. If you don’t leave now, I will be calling the cops.”

He slammed the door in her face and locked it, leaning against it with his back as he closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. When he opened his eyes, he immediately went over to Remy, who was staring at his book, but instead of actually reading the pages, his eyes were still and glassy. “You okay, Rem?” he asked.

“No,” Remy whispered, his entire body trembling. “I miss—I miss Toby. I want—I want my big brother. I want him back, Emile.”

“I know you do,” Emile said, hugging Remy fiercely.

Remy took a big breath and shuddered, sobbing into Emile’s shoulder, repeating, “I want him back” over and over again. Emile just squeezed Remy gently and played with his hair, murmuring “I know you do” every once in a while.

After a time, the frantic murmuring slowed to a stop and Emile gently let Remy down onto the couch where he slept, getting the book from Remy’s lax grip and saving his place. He turned to his parents, mouth open to say something, before he admitted, “I don’t...exactly know what to say about what just happened.”

“Tell us you’re trying to find his brother or else I’ll be tracking his mother down and getting the number myself,” his father said. “And there may or may not be a murder involved.”

“Oh, yeah, I hired a private investigator to track him down. He’s got several leads he’s trying to chase recently, and he said that some of them may take considerable time, but he knows that one of them will lead to Toby,” Emile said. “Unfortunately, I think the lead that will lead to him will take the longest. He has contacts in the court systems, so he can figure out if there’s any restraining orders involved, but those contacts usually take the longest to get back to him, and usually they can’t be specific without risking their jobs, so it might be a while.”

“Good, that means we don’t have to murder anyone quite yet. But if I see that woman again before Remy’s brother is found, I will be stealing her phone and getting the number myself.”

“I’ll help,” his mom added. “Remy clearly needs his brother in his life, or else years of therapy, and I think having his brother near would be considerably cheaper and ultimately take less tissues.”

Emile laughed softly. “I don’t know about less tissues, but I’ll take your word on that for now.”

When Emile stood, his parents shared a look. “You don’t look very good yourself, Emile,” his mom said. “Do you need to lie down, too?”

Emile shook his head. “No, I’d feel better having something to do, or something to distract myself. If I lied down, all I’d be able to focus on is the sound of Remy crying...and I can’t handle that. Not today.”

His mother nodded reluctantly and his father said, “Well, do you have anything here to distract yourself?”

“My psychology textbook?” he asked, shrugging. “We don’t have much by way of distractions, unfortunately. All our money goes to rent or food...or, in my case, rent, food, and my project for Remy’s birthday.”

His mother’s eyes lit up. “Do you have everything up to code?” she asked.

“Almost,” Emile agreed. “That should be set by mid-December. I’ve ordered most of the furniture, getting it into the shop and using local hires where I can. It’s a little slow going, but once everything is done and it’s registered to be a shop, I can hand it over to Remy, and he can do the rest. And it will be done by the end of December. I’m making sure of it.”

His parents shared quiet excitement with him. “If this doesn’t say you’re staying with Remy for the long haul I don’t know what does,” his father said. “I mean, getting married is wonderful, but not an option. Buying a shop is a little more pricey, but should get the message across just as well.”

Emile smiled hopefully and nodded. “Yeah. Remy and I have talked and we agree that neither of us want to leave the other for anything, so I figured it’s a safe investment. And Remy really knows what he’s doing with business. It might not make us super rich, just one coffee shop, but it should be enough for us to live comfortably, and that’s more than enough for me.”

“If you ever need help with any legal issues, feel free to call, all right?” his father said. “I might not be able to help myself, but I definitely know some guys who would. And what’s more, those guys owe me favors, most of them.”

Emile snickered, before looking over to Remy, whose tear-stained cheeks were currently shoved into the couch cushions. “I admittedly don’t want to start cooking without Remy. He’d be so offended when he woke up, if not outright horrified. But I think he needs to sleep just a little longer, just to make sure that he’s all right.”

“Agreed,” his father said.

“Is there anything you might want to do while we wait for him to wake up?” his mother asked. “Even if it’s not food related?”

Emile shrugged. “I don’t know. We were going to ask if you wanted to go down to the shelter we volunteer at for lunch, but I really don’t think Remy would be up for that right now...”

“You’re right, it’s better to let him rest,” his mother said. “I brought a jigsaw puzzle in my suitcase, on the off-chance you might want to play with something while we cooked the turkey.”

“Feel free to bring it out,” Emile said. “It’s not as if we’re going anywhere.”

His mother smiled and went to the guest room, returning with the jigsaw puzzle. They set it up on the table and promptly the three of them started bickering about which pieces to start the puzzle with. They went through all two hundred pieces, sorting them by color, edges versus non-edge pieces, and even size, before Remy stirred on the couch.

Emile focused on Remy while his parents continued to bicker, and Remy blinked awake, rubbing his head. “Mmph,” he grumbled.

“You feel okay, Rem?” Emile asked.

“Tired,” Remy said, sitting up and stretching. “Did we miss lunch at the shelter?”

Emile checked the clock and said, “Yep.”

“Aw, man, I was hoping we could have gone. I wanted to see the kids try and turn you into a human sacrifice again,” Remy mumbled.

Emile’s mom laughed incredulously. “They did what?” she asked.

“Emile can’t say no to children effectively enough to stop them from hog-tying him,” Remy said matter-of-factly. “And then they run wild and it looks like they’re performing a human sacrifice. It’s good fun while I work in the kitchen and help prepare the meals.”

“I’ll bet,” Emile’s father said with an amused glance at him. “Should we start making dinner for ourselves, though?”

“Hm? Oh,” Remy said. “Yeah, that’s kind of important.”

“Only kind of,” Emile teased.

Remy stuck his tongue out at Emile and Emile laughed. “How are you emotionally?” Emile asked.

“I’ll live,” Remy sighed. “I know that’s not the most encouraging thing, but it’s about all I can manage right now. I hope that’s all right.”

“Whatever you can manage is just fine, my love,” Emile said. “I’m not surprised that your mental health took a hit. Good thing that we’re gonna move, right?”

“Yeah, good thing that we have those plans,” Remy said. “I don’t know when we can put them in place, but at least we have them. It’s hope.”

“And hope is very important,” Emile agreed. “Now, do you want to work on the cranberry sauce or the stuffing first?”

“I’ll work on the cranberry sauce. If you even look at the cranberry sauce before it’s done I’ll kill you myself. I am not letting you touch it after last time.”

“Oh, come on! It was one time that I turned the heat too high!” Emile protested.

“One time too many,” Remy said definitively. “You can work on the stuffing. I’ll be doing the cranberry sauce.”

#if there's a place i could be #sanders sides fanfiction #remile #emile picani #ts sleep

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atths--twice · 4 years ago

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Well … here it is, the last chapter to this story. I can’t believe it’s come to the end already, but here we are.

This story, as I said at the beginning, was like a piece of me. It was begging to come out and be told. I’ve spent time in my own little world while I’ve written it. I’ve lived in the Unremarkable House with Mulder, traveled with Maggie to her destinations, and spent time at Scully’s apartment and smart house. I’ve had the chance to walk around their places and their lives and it has been an absolute pleasure. I feel like when I watch the episodes now or see clips and gifs of scenes, that something just before or just after happens as I imagined it, and that makes me happy. I know it’s what I personally imagined, but that doesn’t make it any less of a possibility now, does it? 😊

I hope you enjoy this last chapter and look forward to hearing what you all think.

Chapter Forty Five

Epilogue

Life carries on, things change, but love remains. It may be quiet for a while, biding it’s time, but when it’s ready, it can bring down the heavens.

April 2018

The spring air smelled of pine trees, flowers that were beginning to awaken, and the lake around him. Mulder stood on the back porch and looked at the view in front of him as he took a deep breath. The last time they were there it had been for Mrs. Scully’s funeral. That day had been excruciatingly painful, but the reason for the most recent visit was a happy one.

They deserved a happier memory to replace that sad one.

He turned around and looked at Scully through the window. She was in the kitchen, slicing up vegetables for their dinner. She smiled as she did, causing him to wonder if their baby was moving within her. Or perhaps she was thinking of the sex they had that morning. Either way, she was glowing. He shook his head at the realization that they were going to be parents.

Again. In their fifties.

Standing next to her a month ago as they went to her first OB appointment, he watched as the jelly stuff was placed on her stomach and the wand rolled across it. His heart remained in his throat as he watched Dr. Reynolds work the ultrasound. Noting his anxiety, Scully had reached for his hand and gripped it tightly.

When he heard the fast heartbeat whooshing through the small room, he pitched forward and fell to his knees, crying quietly as Scully caressed his hair and murmured to him. He cried for so many things, but mostly for the second chance they had been given. For each other, for Jackson, and for this new life they created.

As Scully got cleaned up and her clothes rearranged, Dr. Reynolds handed him a printout of their baby, and he thanked her as he tried to make sense of it. She laughed and showed him where the baby was and how to read the printout. He stared at it for the longest time, thinking of Scully going through this on her own last time. How she must have felt holding proof of a miracle in her hands. A miracle just like this one.

Scully’s hand on his arm broke his gaze from the paper. Looking up at her, she smiled at him, tears in her eyes as she too looked down at the sonogram photos. She squeezed his arm and took a deep breath.

“Mulder,” she said quietly and looked up at him again. He nodded, knowing what she was thinking.

“So small,” he breathed, touching the pictures. “A little bean.” Scully laughed softly and then sniffled as she nodded.

They left the doctors office and went to get something to eat. Scully was famished, but he could not stop looking at the photos. At the little bean that was created the night they came back to each other and began their journey home. He or she was the testament of patience, love, and faith. They had never given up and this was their reward.

“Mulder, are you going to look at those the entire time we’re eating?” Scully teased, smiling at him, her eyes so happy.

“I am,” he said, propping the photos up against the napkin holder and picking up his fork. She laughed and squeezed his hand before resuming her meal. He winked at her and shoved a huge bite in his mouth, making her laugh and shake her head.

Louise called a couple of weeks after the appointment, to see how Scully was doing. She called every so often, checking in and bringing news of her family, especially tales of Pip and the fun he had with Annie’s and also Marcus’s children.

“Dana, I don’t know if you’re busy working now or not, but I wanted to extend the use of the lake house to you anytime you would like to go,” Louise said, before saying goodbye. “It sits there empty a majority of the year, so I wanted to let you know you’re welcome to it.”

Scully hung up and looked at Mulder, telling him of the offer for the house. He raised his eyebrows and looked at her with a smile. She called Louise back and asked if they could use the house that weekend.

“Stay for a week,” she said happily and told them that the hidden key was located inside the small decorative frog in the garden. She was not sure of its precise location since they moved it each time, but she described what it looked like and Scully assured her that they would find it.

They packed up and headed out two days later, the windows down, letting the early spring air whip through the car. Mulder reached for her hand and she smiled, her other hand on her belly, lovingly stroking the small bump that was growing every day. He loved watching her close her eyes and sigh happily. Lifting their joined hands, he kissed the back of hers, and she hummed.

Stopping at the only store close to the lake, they bought groceries for the week and headed to the house. Upon arriving, they put the items away and then checked the place out. Scully had been there before, but not since she was a teenager. They found the master bedroom, and Mulder flopped down on the bed, patting the spot next to him and wiggling his eyebrows at her.

“No green face mask this time,” he said as Scully came toward the bed. Instead of laying down though, she straddled him, and his hands rested on her hips.

“If I had actually joined you that night, would it really have mattered?” she asked, rocking against him, making them both moan.

“If you had joined me like this, oh hell no,” he said, his fingers creeping under the hem of her shirt, digging into her flesh, causing her to hiss. “But really, if you had gotten onto the bed … I’m not sure how I would have reacted. Spontaneous human combustion does really happen, right?” His hands moved to her ass and she arched into him.

“It’s been documented. But wouldn’t it have been worth it to try?” she asked, wiggling her hips and then leaning down for a kiss.

“In case you forgot,” he said against her mouth, before kissing her again, his tongue stroking along hers. “I invited you to come to bed.”

“Mmmm, I know,” she said kissing his chin, cheeks, down his neck. “And it was an almost immediate regret when you left the room.” She murmured against his skin.

“Almost?” he shakily asked, her mouth and kiss making him feel dizzy with desire.

“Well yeah, I had to get that mask off before I could get off,” she breathed in his ear before biting the lobe. He yelped and arched up into her, his fingers gripping tightly.

“You … you … ” he sputtered, and she bit his earlobe again.

“Mmm, indeed I did. And I thought of you the whole time. How your hands would feel on me, how your lips would taste, your skin." She punctuated her words with kisses, making him pant and then groan. “I wanted you so badly and had to settle for my own fantasies.” Pushing on his chest, she sat more fully across his groin. She lifted her shirt off and threw it next to her.

Oh dear God, he thought as he saw her bra. Black lace with pink ribbon interwoven in it. Christ, she was going to be the death of him. She smirked at him, seeing his wide eyes, before taking his hands and placing them over her breasts.

“Mmmm, the reality is so much better than the fantasy,” she breathed before she was silenced by his kiss.

Clothes were scattered and hands and lips began to worship the flesh that was revealed. She showed him what she fantasized that night in that lonely bedroom in California. Astride him, their hands locked together above his head, she took what she wanted. Her cries of pleasure were heard not long after, the feeling and her own memories seeming to spur on her release.

“God, Mulder,” she panted, falling against his chest, her body convulsing around him. “That was … God … mmmmm.” She worked at catching her breath, his hands releasing hers and running up and down her slick back. She was exquisite and he planned to show her exactly how much he loved her.

She raised her head and smiled at him, the sated one he loved. But they were not finished and she knew it. “You good?” he asked and she hummed.

“I could be better,” she said, squeezing her internal muscles and he flipped them so quickly she yelped.

He pulled out and thrust back in, making her moan and grip his shoulders tightly, her nails then scratching down his back. He kissed her as he continued pounding into her, chasing his release and knowing this would bring her close to the edge again. His tongue swirled in her mouth as he pushed inside her and stopped.

He sucked her tongue and then bit her lip before looking at her as he began moving again. Her arms wrapped around his neck as her legs wrapped around his waist. Looking into her eyes as he began to move again, while he did not vocalize them, the words were shared between them.

I love you.

You were my touchstone.

And you are mine.

I love you.

He crashed over the edge, spilling inside her and she tightened around him, crying out and holding him tightly. He fell onto her as he continued to empty into her. She hummed in pleasure and happiness, her feet running slowly along his ass and thighs.

Her hands moved to his hair, her fingers scratching at the back of his neck, running in his hair. Placing kisses on her neck, he tried to slow his breathing. “Better?” he murmured, kissing under her chin.

“Hmmmm. Better, much better,” she hummed and he laughed.

That night had seemed to open a floodgate. Since the doppelgänger case, they had been having sex more frequently, but that night and the past four days, had been like an awakening. They had sex in every room of the lake house, and every time was better than the last.

Shaking his head, he looked inside the house again and saw Scully was still preparing their dinner. Maybe he could persuade her to take a little break. No matter that she had dropped to her knees and taken him in her mouth before he carefully lifted her against the shower wall just a couple of hours ago, he was feeling the need to be inside her again.

He walked into the house and she turned to him with a smile. “Should be ready in about thirty minutes,” she said, putting the chicken and vegetable meal into the oven. He walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pushing into her, letting her feel his desire.

“Again?” she asked with a smile, closing the oven door and setting the timer. “I would have thought the shower would have worn you out.” Turning around in his arms, he pushed them toward the counter, pinning her against it, before kissing her deeply.

Her hand moved down to palm him through the thin track pants he was wearing. She grasped and caressed him before sliding her hand inside and holding him firmly.

“God,” he moaned as he pushed into her hand, his head falling to her shoulder, craving her touch. She stroked him, her hand twisting as she knew he liked and he made an incoherent sound.

“Lift me onto the counter, Mulder,” she whispered. “God, you make me so horny. So wet.” He raised his head to look at her and her eyes flashed with desire. She squeezed him and he made the noise again. Laughing she took her hand out of his pants, his protests not taken into consideration.

She was wearing a blue silky robe with light silver flowers on it that she had found hanging on the back of a door. When she untied the belt, he discovered she was completely naked underneath. She stared at him with lust filled eyes, and he shook his head at her beauty.

Her breasts were perfect, her skin so soft and freckled in the most adorable spots. The swell of her belly with their growing child inside, made her even more beautiful to him. His hands splayed across the bump and then around to her hips to lift her onto the counter like she asked.

She was open to him and he needed to taste her. Pulling her forward to the edge of the counter, he opened her legs wider before bending and kissing her center, finding her wet, just as she had said she was. He sucked her clit into his mouth and she cried out, pushing his head to her pelvis. He slid two fingers into her and crooked them, as he continued licking and sucking at her.

“Mulder, God,” she cried out, her legs shaking and her toes digging into his shoulders. “Do that again. All of it.”

And he did, over and over, until she broke around him, his name repeatedly falling from her lips, her fingers wound tightly in his hair. He kissed her inner thighs, her belly, and up to breasts, sucking and licking her nipples.

He kissed her mouth, her right arm holding tight to his neck, her left hand trying to push his pants down. Laughing into her mouth, he helped her get his pants down enough to slide inside of her. Her legs wrapped around him and she nudged her heels into him, spurring him on.

Chuckling, he started moving. Her grip on his neck remained tight, her legs around him, and he knew she wanted it faster and harder. Happy to oblige, he pulled her closer to him and began to pump into her faster.

“Yes, Mulder,” she said, her breasts bouncing as he went faster. “God, you feel so good. Harder. Oh, yesssss.” Throwing her head back, her hand held onto his neck as he pounded into her hard. He moved his right hand and put his thumb on her clit, rubbing it as he began to reach his peak.

“Oh, Jesus,” she said, her nails scratching at his neck. “Don’t stop. Mmmmulder...” She cried as she came, arching back and held in place by his body pushing into hers and an arm around her waist.

A few more hard thrusts, her body shaking under him, he came hard and fast, staying deep inside her as he did. His fingers gripped her waist tightly and he moved his other hand to join its mate.

Her legs remained tight around him as he caught his breath. Lifting his head, he looked at her splayed out, her robe open and sliding off her shoulders. Goddess in the flesh, he thought. She raised her head and looked into his eyes.

“How do you do that?” she asked incredulously, a huge smile on her face. “Make me want you so badly? Only you, Mulder. Only you.” She sighed and wrapped both arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss, his thumbs caressing her hip bones and giving her the chills.

Foreheads touching, he laughed and she smiled. “Only you, Scully. Only you,” he said quietly, and then a buzzing sound was heard. She laughed and pulled her head back, her eyes dancing.

“Dinner’s ready,” she laughed and he joined her before sliding from inside her and pulling up his pants. He turned off the timer and took the food from the oven. Turning back to her, he grinned at the sight of her- disheveled and happy, her robe still open.

He stepped toward her and helped her down, holding her tightly as she got her balance. “Be right back,” she said, kissing him and heading to the bathroom. He grinned at the sight of her and then saw about getting dinner on the table.

___________

Two days later, they were spending the last day walking around the lake hand-in-hand, skipping stones, and enjoying the atmosphere of the area. They came to the log they sat on after her mother’s funeral and for a second Scully faltered in her steps. He put a hand on the small of her back and waited until she was ready before they proceeded.

They sat on the log, neither saying anything, just listening to the quiet around them. Sitting for a few minutes, her head dropped to his shoulder, and he rested his head on hers.

“I said before that she had it all planned out, Mom, I mean. Not just the letters and all that, but us. She was there to help you, and she was in my corner over my decisions of the past. She listened, led, but didn’t push. That was her, even when we were little. She guided, but it was always our decision,” she lifted her head and looked at him, gesturing between them. “This was our decision, Mulder, but she absolutely was guiding us toward this path. She loved you so much, loved us together, I know it broke her heart when we weren’t.” She looked at him with sad eyes before she smiled. “She would be so happy to see us here, to know she had done what she set out to do.”

Mulder chuckled and reached for her hand. “I think you’re right. She was a force to be reckoned with, that’s for sure. All you Scully women- stubborn and opinionated, but every one of you was exactly who I needed.” He looked at her and grinned, while she narrowed her eyes at him before smiling.

They fell silent again until he stood up, as the sun began to set. He reached for her hand and pulled her to her feet, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close.

“I love you, Scully,” he whispered into her hair.

“I love you too, Mulder,” she answered. He let her go and took her hand, walking back toward the house. He had a surprise for her, and he was looking forward to giving it to her.

He told her to sit on one of the chairs by the water and to wait for him. She frowned but did as he asked, sitting in the chair and waiting. He walked into the house and went to fetch the items he found on one of his few solo trips to town. Grabbing them, a marker and the lighter, he went back outside.

“So, I saw these at the store and thought it might be a nice way to close out the week here, a place we know your mom liked to visit,” he said rejoining her at the chairs. She looked up expectantly and saw he was holding two floating paper lanterns. He sat down and handed her hers.

“Mulder,” she breathed. “This is wonderful. Thank you so much.” She looked at him and smiled.

“If you want to write something, I have a pen. Then we light them and let them float out to sea. Or lake, as it were,” he said with a smile. He handed her the pen and she held it, as if contemplating what to write.

“I think, I’d rather just think it as we let them go,” she told him, and he nodded, feeling the same way.

He put the small tea lights in that came with the lantern and then used the lighter to light them. When they began to glow, he helped her from her chair and they walked to the water's edge. He handed her her lantern and looked at her. Tears in her eyes, she closed them, and he did the same.

He thought of Mrs. Scully and all she had done, not just the past couple of years, but since he met her. She was always his champion, his protector, and he never deserved it from her. He was her daughter’s work partner and her friend, nothing more, but she had taken him in and cared for him.

Fox Mulder, that’s an outright lie and you know it. You were never just her partner and friend.

And of course I was your protector. That’s what family does, Fox. It shows up and keeps us safe.

He opened his eyes, practically hearing her voice speaking to him, and he smiled despite his tears. She would be right. She was exactly who she needed him to be, his protector, confidant, and friend. But more than that, she was his mother when his own had left this earth. He would try every day to be the person she saw in him.

“You ready?” Scully asked him quietly. He nodded and she smiled softly. They both took off their shoes and stepped into the water far enough to push their lanterns out to catch the small current.

They floated out slowly as Mulder put his arm around Scully. Her arms went around his waist, and they stood watching the lanterns float close to them and then drift further out. The candles inside them glowed brightly as they stood together, their feet in the water.

“Do … do you hear that, Mulder?” she asked, dropping her arms from his waist and looking around. “Tell me you hear that.”

“I don’t hear anything, Scully,” he said perplexedly, looking around with her, but hearing only silence. “Wait, does it sound like trumpets? Because I heard that before when we-“

“No, it’s not … it’s not trumpets,” she said slowly, stepping back and out of the water, still looking around. “It’s … music. A song. It’s … Beyond the Sea. That was my parents’ song. My mom told me years ago that … that it was playing when my father came back from the Cuban blockade. He walked off the boat, right up to her, and proposed as that song was playing and it became their song. Mulder, please tell me you can hear it?” She looked at him imploringly and he shook his head.

“Scully,” he said, stepping from the water and joining her. “I really don’t hear it. Maybe … maybe it’s meant for only you to hear.” He smiled at her with a tilt of his head and her eyes filled with tears as she nodded at him.

They put their shoes on and walked to the porch of the house. Turning around, they watched the now tiny lanterns sitting in the water, occasionally bumping away from each other, but then floating back and staying together. Mulder smiled as he watched them.

“Somewhere, beyond the sea,” Scully began to sing softly. “Somewhere waiting for me, my lover stands on golden sands, and watches the ships, that go sailing. We'll meet beyond the shore, we’ll kiss just as before, happy we'll be beyond the sea, and never again, I'll go sailing.” She put her arm around him and leaned her head on his shoulder, sighing as they stood watching the lanterns get further and further away.

She squeezed his side and then looked up at him. “Let’s go to bed, Mulder,” she said with a happy smile that he answered with his own. They went inside, arms wrapped around each other, and closed the door, turning out the lights and heading to bed.

The two lanterns continued to shine on the water, while on the dock, a light seemed to appear that could not be explained. Inside it, unseen by anyone, Maggie and Bill danced and held each other, their invisible presence creating a peace.

“We can’t stay much longer, Maggie Girl,” Bill said in her ear, and Maggie nodded against his chest.

“I know. I just wanted to see them. With their eyes on the lanterns, I thought they wouldn’t notice our presence, but our girl continues to surprise me,” she said with a chuckle. Bill laughed with her as the music surrounding them reverberated through his laugh.

“That she does, Maggie. That she does,” Bill pulled back and looked at her. She stared in his eyes and nodded with a smile.

“They’re happy. They found their way back to each other, just where they were always meant to be. And a baby, Bill. A little girl. ” She smiled, shaking her head with tears in her eyes, as she took his hand, ready to go now that she had seen them. The light on the dock glowed brightly and then disappeared, leaving the night dark and quiet.

The lanterns in the water glowed brightly simultaneously once more and then extinguished. Crickets began to chirp, a frog croaked, and an owl hooted, the night peaceful.

Inside the lake house, Mulder and Scully lay entwined, flesh to flesh, each with a hand resting on the swell of life growing and changing inside of her. They sighed simultaneously, their fingers locking together before closing their eyes and sleeping.

Their dreams were peaceful, the darkness ceding to the light and restoring harmony in their lives. Their path was clear, the road smooth. Yes, there would still be times of struggle as this new journey began, but they were ready. It had taken four years to repair their broken hearts, and they were not going to let them break again.

They found their way back to one another, with the help of a guiding hand. One who loved them and championed for them. Who saw the love between them and directed them to the correct path. Behind them, gently pushing, guiding, and making sure there was no longer the rocky terrain of the past to stumble upon, the path clear.

True soulmates would always return to one another, and once rejoined, they could not be torn apart again.

Some souls just need a guiding hand to help the journey along, to be a marker in the road, and the light illuminating the path ...

It's far beyond a star It's near beyond the moon I know beyond a doubt My heart will lead me there soon

______________________________________________________

So, now we truly have reached the end. What a journey it has been. They were broken, possibly forever, but Maggie would hear none of that. She nurtured and guided until those two dummies could figure it out on their own. She loved them both so much, no chance would she give up on them. ❤️

Thank you all for reading this and taking this journey with me. I wrote it last year and it was a half a year of hardcore writing for me. Seeing everyone’s reactions every day has made me so happy. I love reading your comments, they just make me smile and they plant little seeds of loveliness in my thankfulness garden. I think of them throughout the day and I just smile.

And now, their story continues in the series Family Life: The Story Beyond the Series on Archive of Our Own, if you are interested in hopping over there. This story is a part of the series, the beginning as it were. You can read it there: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1407691 but I am also going to begin posting them here as well. I hope you enjoy the continuation of their lives in real time- through the pregnancy and beyond.

Thank you all for reading.

#The X Files #XF Fanfic #X Files Novel #Post MSIV #Life after the finale #A new life and a new journey to be taken #Back together and stronger than ever #God I love these two so much #This was such a pleasure to write

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new-endings · 4 years ago

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The Nice and Accurate Guide to Courting

Ao3; 1/2/3/4/5/6/7

Step 7: (MIs)Communication is Key // Holy Water and Hellfire Pt. 1

Chapter Summary: In which Aziraphale ponders his own feelings, Crowley attempts to be more direct with his flirting, obligations to one’s duty and one’s heart are brought into question, and things heat up in the plot.

Story Summary:

As Hell’s bastard prince, Crowley is expected to wed an Archangel of Heaven’s kingdom to bring peace between the two warring nations.

It's too bad he only has eyes for his sweet, absolute bastard of a Guide, the Principality Aziraphale, who is dead-set on making sure the engagement happens.

For the sake of their kingdoms, Aziraphale leads the Prince of Hell through the long, arduous road of winning an Archangel’s favor and affections. However, Crowley would much rather use that romantic guidance to win him over instead.

When daybreak filtered through his windows, Aziraphale hardly had the will to move, let alone get up and begin his day. But he had a duty to fulfill and his own hurricane of regrets and questions be damned, he had to buck up and get right to it.

Even if his stomach did sink with its weight in lead at the very thought of approaching Crowley after what transpired last night.

No—not the—not that part of last night—the kiss! Yes, the kiss! And damn the Demon for his, his—wiles! Aziraphale knew he should have retracted that little caveat of No questions asked but—

It was too late for that now.

It wasn’t like—it hadn’t even meant anything. Of course it wouldn’t. It was—it was probably for practice, an experiment designed to gauge how comfortable an Angel would be to receive such a bold and brash show of romantic action, or something equally ridiculous. It could even be a Demonic custom of some sort.

Regardless of the root of the matter, Crowley—Crowley was a prince and princes had no business kissing Principalities when they were to be betrothed to an Archangel. It didn’t matter if Aziraphale’s heart squeezed with pinprick thorns at the thought of Crowley wedded off to one of them—powerful and beautiful as they were—it didn’t matter if he’d miss the time spent with the infuriating, wonderful Prince of Hell, didn’t matter if he’d gone and torn apart something Aziraphale had kept distant and closed, petal by petal, because…

Because none of it mattered.

He had to remember his place. He had a duty to fulfill. He can’t let his people—and Crowley—down. Whatever it was, whatever was brewing up a fuss in his mind and a storm in his heart had absolutely no place in his line of duty.

“Oh, don’t get ahead of yourself, dear boy,” Aziraphale murmured as he washed up. “Things will be all right. There’s no need to get all worked up.” He looked down to his hands as he wrung the towel, Crowley’s ring gleaming brilliantly on his finger. He shut his eyes and sighed. “It doesn’t mean anything at all. And this…” He held his hand to his breast, feeling the dull, achy thuds behind the cage of his ribs tick along sadly. “This will come to pass.”

There was a fracture of some kind, splintering, sharp, and searing deep within his chest, but Aziraphale kept a stiff upper lip and got about his day.

------

It was easy enough to forget—even for a moment—what troubles clouded Aziraphale’s mind.

After all, whenever Crowley made a spectacle of himself, it was quite difficult to think of anything else other than mitigating the damage that was sure to follow. “What in the—Crowley, what are you doing?!” Aziraphale shrilled as he dove after the—foolish, stupid, idiot!—prince right as he took a swan-dive off the cliff. Panic seized at his throat. In hindsight, at the very least, the ground levels were staggered to where even if Crowley did dive off the deep end (literally and figuratively), he would have sustained much less damage from the fall.

Of course, that didn’t stop Aziraphale from flying off after him.

“Oh, good morning, Angel!” Crowley greeted blithely, giving a short wave as though Aziraphale weren’t currently hoisting him by the waist as Principality’s wings flapped erratically to keep them aloft.

This Demon was going to end up killing him.

Aziraphale huffed, hoping that he looked more visibly annoyed than in the aftermath of absolute terror as he lowered them to the clifftops. “Again Crowley—what were you doing?” the angel demanded once both pairs of feet were set firmly on the ground.

Crowley gave a shrug—no, not his usual devil-may-care gesture whenever he wanted to annoy the absolute divinity right out of Aziraphale’s wavering patience. It was the same one he used whenever he was downright nervous about what he was going to say, whenever he wasn’t sure Aziraphale would like his answer. “Just. Practicing flying.”

The Angel, of course, was dubious of this response. There wasn’t much flying involved from where he could see. Falling, definitely. Aziraphale furrowed his brow. “I thought you said Demons couldn’t fly.”

His shoulders tensed in annoyance. “I know.” Annoyance or something else. Something like reluctance or resignation. He paused, opening his mouth and closing it. He tried again, this time actually managing to get the words out. “You said—you said the courtship flight was important.”

Aziraphale felt his heart soften. “Oh. Yes it—well it usually is, but given the circumstances, I…” He gave a swallow at the look of utter frustration on the Demon’s face. He then noticed the dirt streaking the other’s robes and the bruises on his arms from what was likely an unpleasant landing. Aziraphale winced. Just how long had Crowley been doing this?

“I can do it. I know I can. It just…it just takes some time to remember what it’s like, that’s all.” He flashed Aziraphale what he probably hoped was a confident smile, but all it did was make Aziraphale ache in sympathy.

His dear friend—he was trying so hard for this courtship to work out. Why couldn’t anyone else see his efforts?

They don’t’ deserve him something dark and quiet whispered in the crevices of his thoughts and Aziraphale tamped it down immediately. “Dear…you know…I was thinking.”

“A dangerous occupation, Dove,” Crowley smirked and Aziraphale tried not to sputter at the moniker.

“I was thinking— that maybe Bentley could help you in this regard.” He watched as the gears turned in Crowley’s head at the idea.

“Would it be impressive enough, is what I’m wondering,” he murmured, ruminating further. He looked to Aziraphale, deliberating, searching, and…hoping? “Did she impress you, Angel?”

She terrified the living daylights out of me and to be honest, she still does. “Exceedingly so, Crowley,” Aziraphale nodded with a tight smile. “And you two fly so—so well together too!”

Crowley flew his dragon like a madman. Had it not been for Aziraphale reprimanding Crowley nearly half the time they were on the wing together, the unruly dragon would have been satisfied with catapulting, cannonballing, and careening off in the skies all the way to Old End. Aziraphale suppressed a shudder as images of their flight resurfaced, his screams painting the night. Impressive? Yes. But perhaps not in all the right ways.

Crowley gave a brilliant smile at the memory and some of that tension eased in Aziraphale’s heart. “She’s taken a shine to you,” he added, rather unexpectedly. He almost looked proud.

Maybe even fond. “O-oh?” Ah. Right. The erm…gifts she gave him, back at the island. Aziraphale felt his stomach churn as he smiled back with a bit of force. “Well, that’s very sweet—she’s…” Unruly. Stubborn. Sadistic. Unpredictable. A thing of great terror and beauty. A true force of nature. “Very nice.”

Just like her master. “Nice?” Crowley scoffed, brushing the dust off his robes. “Not exactly the first thing one thinks of when describing a fire-breathing hellion like her, right?” He gave a wolfish grin and to Aziraphale’s utter horror, found a strange heat spreading through his cheeks.

“Well, she most certainly is nice,” the Principality defended. Probably no thanks to Crowley.

“To you, Angel.” He chuckled and while Crowley didn’t say it outright, Aziraphale was sure that he’d just been granted a rare and fine honor by the prince for somehow getting on Bentley’s good side. “You know…since you two get along so well, maybe I can show you a little something.” He moved forward, taking Aziraphale by the arm, something he’d blithely done countless time—

And yet, the action ended up wholly flustering Aziraphale.

“S-show me?” To which the Angel startled and hastily pulled away with a frantically beating heart.

Crowley paused, frowning. He looked at the distance between them and Aziraphale fought the urge to squirm under his gaze. His eyes were completely unreadable. Then, the Demon turned. “Yeah. But not here. Elsewhere.”

“Like…?” the Angel prodded, feet moving on their own to catch up.

“Over by the edge of the falls, like before. We won’t get interrupted there.” And then Crowley turned back, a sly grin on his face. “No one to hear us either.”

“Erm…” Hear what, exactly?

“Are you coming or not, Dove?”

Aziraphale sputtered, feet reluctantly moving forward. “Y-yes, fine!”

----

They’d gone back to bickering—for better or for worse.

Aziraphale felt a throbbing tick of irritation and repressed the urge to stammer in embarrassment. Honestly, just what is irritation of a royal playing at? “Crowley for the last time—”

“C’mon, Angel, it’s not that bad—”

“—it’s completely ridiculous!” he cried out, arms crossed, and lips fixed to a pout.

“That’s never stopped you before!” Crowley backtracked immediately at the stone-dead stare he received in turn. “Oh, come now…” he soothed, trying to wheedle the Angel into getting his way, and getting far too close—! Crowley paused. “Something the matter, Angel?”

Aziraphale blinked, somehow a foot or four away from where he originally sat. “W-what? Oh, no! Nothing.” Aziraphale winced.

Not exactly convincing, was that?

At the very least, Crowley wasn’t calling him out on it. Because there was clearly something wrong and it had nothing to do with Crowley but had everything to do with an Angel who up and went and complicated everything from nothing. This is nothing, you foolish Principality. “It’s nothing at all.”

The prince looked concerned now. He cautiously shuffled closer, like Aziraphale were some wild animal he risked spooking with any sudden movements. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it…?”

No—no, talking is the absolute last thing Aziraphale wanted—there was nothing to talk about—! And besides…

“You said there’d be no questions asked—”

Sea-storm eyes widened. Aziraphale wanted the ground to swallow him where he stood. Or, at the very least, swallow the words he’d just up and let slip from his mouth. He turned hastily away, busying himself with calling out to the dozing dragon again, watching with failing hope for an intervention as the damned beast only lifted her head for a moment and set herself back down to bask in the afternoon sun.

Beside him, Crowley could only gape.

It could have been disgust that the Angel was feeling. It could be that Crowley had doomed them utterly and irrevocably by not only crossing the line, but dashing right past it and hurtling the Angel right along with him into unknown territory. But Aziraphale’s nervous, flustering couldn’t be explained by repulsion and reluctance.

He’d spent a long time watching his Angel. He knew nearly every flash of emotion that painted itself across his face. Knew every sigh of annoyance, tick of irritation, beam of happiness, downcast of guilt, and tight-lipped smile of dread and disappointment. And this—this blushing, antsy, and squirming mess his Angel had become—simply did not radiate rejection at Crowley’s presence.

A strange, dizzying hope captivated, enthralled him. It rooted and bloomed in his chest as Aziraphale vehemently refused to look at him, but even the afternoon sun did little to hide the rosy tint that spread across his cheeks. Crowley’s heart thudded, raced, and ached. Did the kiss work? Did he finally get his Angel to think of him as more than a burden, an obligation?

A friend?

“I-I mean, no, there’s absolutely nothing to talk about!” his Angel added hurriedly when Bentley provided absolutely zero aid to the situation.

His angel was still proving to be stubborn. Of course, Crowley knew this would arise, knew that his Angel, his sweet, loyal Aziraphale, was sworn to his duty. Maybe even to the point of foregoing his own heart—but no, Crowley couldn’t give up now. Not when he’d come so far, not when his plan could free them both from this rotten fate.

The prince licked his lips, tingling at the memory of the lovely time they had the night before. I still have another favor, he realized. Maybe if he demanded the truth, Aziraphale would have nowhere to run off to and hide. He’d reveal his heart and Crowley would gladly offer his in return. It could certainly save him all the grief and give them what they both want and Crowley—

Crowley wanted answers.

But as a Demon…he knew full well the dangers of asking questions. No, he won’t risk it. If he were to outright ask, Aziraphale might even deny his own heart out of responsibility and loyalty to his cause. It would be better to gauge Aziraphale’s reactions through more direct methods of courting. He’d been too subtle— at least to his oblivious bird. He decided then: if Aziraphale refused to speak his mind, maybe his body would be far more honest.

Crowley also needed to consider that he needed that request for his plans. Playing Demon’s advocate, however, if he successfully wooed his Angel, that alone might be enough to convince him.

Decisions, decisions.

Crowley wordlessly called out to his stubborn dragon. Bentley lazily groused as she lumbered over to them, giving a nuzzle to an alarmed Aziraphale just because she loved his reactions so much. The prince let out a laugh, finding bittersweet irony that his own dragon knew his heart sooner than the Angel he had every intention of giving it to. He reached over to pet her snout, accidentally leaning a little too close to Aziraphale who sat between them. From the corner of his vision, he watched as Aziraphale deliciously reddened at their proximity.

Crowley bit back a smile. “If you’re sure, Angel.”

His request could wait. Besides, Crowley was fairly sure he knew what all this flustering meant.

“Of course I’m sure!” Aziraphale (somehow) managed to get out without stammering.

He’s sure that all this flustering meant that Aziraphale wanted him.

Crowley chuckled. “Whatever you say, Dove,” snickering as Aziraphale valiantly again tried to hide his blush from view.

Just as I’m sure you’ve stumbled, love, I’m sure you’ll fall for me soon.

-----

Aziraphale didn’t know how much more he could take.

Crowley had suggested they break for lunch not too long afterwards and from there, it all went downhill. The prince escorted them to the carriage, taking his hand as he stepped inside, and sitting far too close beside him. Every jolt from the uneven paths sent Crowley pressing up against him, arm to arm, thigh to thigh, though he seemed to take no mind whatsoever. Sure, Crowley had taken to draping himself over his Guide from time to time, especially after long, tiring nights, but it was barely midday! And each time Aziraphale tried to put some distance between them, Crowley would follow suit until the Guide was sandwiched between the Prince and the solid walls of the coach.

Lunch didn’t fare any better as Aziraphale nearly swallowed a spoon when Crowley offered to feed him. It absolutely did not help as when he began choking, Crowley announced, Not to worry, Angel, I know mouth-to-mouth!

After that fiasco, during which a confused waiter had to pry the prince off him, they ended up splitting dessert. Aziraphale brightened at that, always excited to have his friend try the rich delicacies of the kingdom. However, just as he’d began explaining the intricate process of tempering the chocolate to create the smooth, rich, and creamy texture, Crowley used that opportunity to take a bite of cake right off the Angel’s fork.

It’s good, he said, licking his lips. I’ll have more.

Aziraphale didn’t know how he ended up feeding Crowley the rest of the Black Forest gateau, or why he didn’t ask Crowley to use his own silverware, but the Angel could find no sound reason other than the blood rushing to his head clouding his concentration and judgment.

During the ride back, Crowley claimed he wanted an afternoon doze and spent the journey back to the castle grounds with an arm over his Guide and burrowing his head at the curve of Aziraphale’s neck. Which, again, wasn’t exactly too unusual for the pair. At least, that was the mantra Aziraphale had been repeating for the entire duration of the ride, all the while praying that the heat of his blush didn’t scrawl down his neck where Crowley could feel it.

And to make matter worse, Crowley nearly took a stumble out of the carriage when they’d arrived, needing Aziraphale to keep him upright and support him as they walked back to the grounds as his “foot fell asleep.”

And now…Aziraphale found himself in this predicament:

“W-what’s gotten into you!” the Angel sputtered, adorably red-faced with his brows furrowed. “Did you take a tumble to the head? Oh, good Lord you actually did smash your head on a rock, didn’t you?”

Crowley chuckled, shrugging as though he hadn’t just crowded Aziraphale up against the tower’s walls with the excuse of tripping and needing to someone to steady him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Angel.”

Those pouty lips set themselves to a frown. “You’ve been—clumsier.” And handsy. “Have you lost all depth perception?” Aziraphale fought the urge to blush and mostly succeeded when Crowley did nothing more than grin at him, handsome face illuminated by the rosy sunset behind him. Still, it wasn’t hard to suppress and repress—not when guilt was nipping at his heels.

Crowley was quiet for a long while. Then, finally, “Are all angels this oblivious?” He peered down at Aziraphale, eyes dark and pupils blown wide. Heat pooled at Aziraphale’s belly and he squirmed under the prince’s gaze. “Or did I just get lucky?”

Aziraphale’s heart leapt to his throat but it came crashing down within an instant. “O-oh.” No, no…it can’t—that can’t possibly be what Crowley meant. He’s just—using you for practice, you pathetic thing! “Crowley, erm…” Aziraphale swallowed; the truth was always such a bitter, bitter thing to. “My dear, I don’t think that approach would be wise to u-use on an Archangel.” He gave a mirthless laugh. “They tend to dislike—”

“I’m not asking about what they like, Angel.” Crowley pressed closer, this time backing up him up flat against the cool stone walls. “I’m asking you,” he murmured, hand cupping Aziraphale’s cheek and forcing him to meet the prince’s burning gaze. “Do you like it?” Aziraphale swallowed down the humiliating noise that threatened to escape his mouth. “Do you like it when I’m this close to you?” The Angel felt the very tips of his ears burn; emboldened by the reaction, Crowley leaned down, a breath’s width away from Aziraphale’s own lips, eager, hungry, to take another kiss. “Or do you want me to be…closer?”

Aziraphale gasped, almost—almost forgetting himself. “C-Crowley!” He can’t—the prince was taking this too far, We can’t possibly…he can’t actually mean—

Crowley gripped him by the arm, just as he’d began to scarper away. “Don’t run away from me, Aziraphale.” Something in his voice, dark, demanding, and maybe even a bit desperate, set a shiver down the Angel’s spine. Crowley leaned in, whispering with the faintest hint of temptation and promise in his words: “Believe me, Dove. I won’t let you get very far.”

“Am I interrupting something?”

Ice encased Aziraphale’s heart as he wrenched away, a cold sliver of fear dropping to the pit of his belly. “No—!”

“Yesss,” Crowley hissed out as he stepped away from his Guide. “What do you want, Ligur?”

The footman bowed deep and low, exaggerated and mocking. “Prince Crawley…” He made his way to them from where he lurked by the shadows of the overhanging gate. “A message from the King,” he announced, handing over a heavy scroll engraved with the royal crest.

Crowley eyed it with disinterest. “I’ll see to it soon enough,” he said, waving him off. “As you were.” The prince ignored the sharp gasp from his Angel and his own nauseating dread. It wouldn’t do to show weakness. Not now. Not when he’d foolishly put them both in danger.

“Of course, my liege,” the Demon drawled, giving yet another mocking bow as he slipped away, back into the shadows.

Aziraphale tried to calm his fluttering heart. No, this wasn’t good—they had the wrong idea, it wasn’t—this wasn’t— He turned to Crowley and noted with concern that he was…trembling. His eyes were hard and unreadable, seeming at a loss for words. “This matter seems…urgent,” Aziraphale said softly. He reached out, soothing his shoulder and startling Crowley from his spell. “Maybe you should—”

Crowley took his hand in his, squeezing them tightly, beseechingly, reassuringly. “Meet me at the third alternative rendezvous point come moonrise.” He pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s palm, where his own ring and crest glittered under the dying beams of the sun.

He then drew away, leaving the Guide in a daze with his heart in his throat. “Wait, Crowley!” The prince stilled as Aziraphale clutched the sleeves of his robes. He looked back at Aziraphale, hopeful and waiting. But all Aziraphale could muster out was, “Is that one the park fountain or the clocktower?”

Crowley groaned, rolling his eyes so hard, his entire head rolled with them. “The clocktower!”

-----

That all went down like a lead balloon.

The Demon paced about, eyeing the rafters and stairs for any signs of movement, anything out of place that would indicate prying eyes and ears. He silently cursed himself as the day’s light faded, leaving nothing but the malicious dark, the perilous unknown. Crowley had no one to blame but himself. He’d gotten complacent when he should have been on his guard—what was he doing, being so rash out in the open, on castle grounds no less? He cursed himself for believing the quiet weeks had meant reprieve; cursed himself for thinking they had more time.

Harried steps came from the stairs and Crowley swiveled around, some of the tension easing when his Guide’s familiar head poked through the entryway.

Catching sight of him, the Angel breathed a sigh of relief. “Crowley…” He made his way over, the anxiety in his eyes deepening as he took in the prince’s frazzled appearance. “What’s happened, dear?”

“Angel, I…” This was it. “There isn’t much time.” This was now or never. “I’m sorry Angel, I’m so sorry, this isn’t your fault—”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale reached over, soothing his arm. “Did they reprimand you?” He sighed, deep and wounded. “They have to understand that courting—courting takes time! And, blast it, the Archangels should be pulling their weight on this too! A marriage takes compromise and collaboration, and—”

Crowley felt his heart swell for this sweet, sympathetic bird. Too kind, too naïve—Crowley had to get them out of this mess before they targeted his Guide next. “It’s all right, it’s all right. Forget the engagement.” He hushed him before the sputtering and protests started. “Angel…I have a plan.” Crowley reached into his coat pocket and fished out a parchment. “In case the walls have ears,” he murmured. “You still owe me, remember?”

Hesitantly, with questioning eyes, Aziraphale took it and unfolded it. “Walls have—what?” He peered down at the single word and racked his brain trying to make sense of it.

Maps

Aziraphale shook his head. “What do you mean…” When had they discussed anything relating to cartography? He had a small collection, somewhere within the organized chaos of his quarters, but nothing too noteworthy. Well, other than those maps he had err borrowed from the old cartographer. In fact, he might have mentioned them to Crowley during that rainy night in Old End—

The maps to The Other Side.

Aziraphale’s eyes widened as the meaning sank in, making him shudder violently at the realization. “Crowley!” He searched the other’s eyes for an explanation—anything other than the horrifying conclusion Aziraphale came to. But Crowley only stared steadily back, grim and somber. He shook his head. “You can’t—”

“Angel—” he started, moving closer when all Aziraphale wanted was to gather as much distance between them as possible. “With those maps, we can make it out of here, you and me—”

That was what he wanted? In the end, that’s what Crowley was asking?

To escape?

Another realization struck him, nearly knocking Aziraphale clean off his feet as he came to a sickening understanding. Of Crowley’s behavior, of Crowley’s courting— he hadn’t been trying out another method to woo an Archangel when he’d kissed Aziraphale that night—

No…he’d been trying to deceive Aziraphale, making the Principality play into the palm of his hand.

All to give him what he wanted. “Was this what it was all about?” Aziraphale demanded. Anger. Humiliation. Both burned and boiled under Aziraphale’s skin until they consumed themselves, leaving only the cold ashes of nausea at the pit of his stomach and a searing hurt in his chest. “You were just trying to get ahold of my maps?”

Crowley shook his head, stepping towards him, trying to cross the space between them. “The maps are necessary, obviously, but—”

“No, they aren’t—not unless you plan on…on giving up!” Sea-storm eyes glared back at him, challenging Crowley to tell him otherwise, that he wasn’t just abandoning everything they’ve worked for. Everything Aziraphale had worked for. But he was met with silence once more, and Aziraphale felt himself drown in despair and disbelief. “That’s what you’re doing, aren’t you? Crowley, how could you…”

I thought…I thought we were on the same side…were you plotting this escape this entire time?

Aziraphale felt hot, angry tears well up at the corner of his eyes. “How could you turn your back on everything? On everyone?”

Including me?

Crowley wanted to scream in frustration. No, no, this wasn’t going according to plan—his Angels’ got it all wrong, it’s not like that, it’s not— “Would you just listen to me?!”

It’s exactly like that. Aziraphale, his Aziraphale turned away, shaking his head softly. “I’m done listening, Crowley.” He squeezed his eyes tight, shuddering out a breath. “I can’t give you those maps.”

Crowley felt hollow. Like everything—faith, love, agony, and regret spilt out of his very corporation, left to rot and fester on the ground between them. All that was left was a roiling resentment. “Can’t or won’t?” he bit out. You idiot, you foolish, foolish bird—this wasn’t just for me—

This was for us. “Does it matter?” Aziraphale scoffed bitterly. “I’m done with this conversation.” Gathering courage amid the bitterness and betrayal, he began to walk away.

Away from Crowley and his dishonest demands. “I thought…I thought you would understand,” he said as Aziraphale reached the stairs.

Breathing in a deep, forlorn sigh, Aziraphale glared back at him, a raw, aching hurt in his eyes. “How could I understand you damning our kingdoms to war?” He started down the steps. “I’m sorry, Crowley, but we both have our sworn duties.”

“Your duty before your own heart, eh?” Crowley shot back, but Aziraphale was already gone. With no one to judge him, Crowley collapsed against a beam, sliding down to the dusty floors as he gazed out into the open night.

Aziraphale had gone.

“I should have known.” Had gone and left Crowley atop a broken clocktower, the minutes and hours ticking by too fast, out of tempo, and out of tune from one another. He sighed, feeling a thousand thorns embed themselves deep into his own, bleeding heart. “I should have known.”

-----

He has a bloody dragon, Aziraphale realized, just as he rounded the corner towards his quarters. He has a bloody dragon and basically nothing to stop him from escaping out into wilds of The Other Side where he’d get lost, get hurt, and smash his head on a bloody rock—

Aziraphale rounded back, scurrying over to the clocktower where he hoped to find Crowley right where he’d left him.

But those plans soon went awry as he nearly collided with two figures in the shadows. Aziraphale skidded to a halt as one of Crowley’s…unsavory footmen emerged towards the firelight. “Ah…the Principality,” Ligur sneered.

“No smarmy quips today?” Hastur asked as he shed the shadows like a second skin.

“Gentlemen,” Aziraphale nodded, suddenly very nervous and suddenly very scared. “Is there a reason you two are…lurking by my quarters?”

The two glanced at each other, sharing a slimy smirk. “We’ve received word from the King, as you well know. But something we were ordered not to share with the prince is that he is sending a few of his lords here to Heaven.”

Hastur retrieved the heavy scroll, emblazoned with Hell’s crest. Aziraphale eyed the mark with a shudder, the imagery of the coiling serpent sinking its fangs into the breast of a mighty winged beast gleaming back at him. He gingerly took it from the footman’s hands as Hastur added, “He requests for you to meet them to discuss Prince Crawley’s…progress.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale corrected with a scowl. He narrowed his eyes. “Why is Prince Crowley made to be unaware of this meeting?”

“He did not take well to being reminded of the…pressures instilled upon him by the King,” Ligur said, seeming to wince at the recent memory. “The King knew of this and knew he would be resistant to any guidance offered to him. Ideally, we would give him a few days to cool off. He’s quite prone to…lashing out, as you may know. But the lords are fast approaching and we cannot delay their stay.”

“Yes, it must be very difficult for him, what with our two kingdoms’ peace riding on his shoulders,” Hastur drawled with a frown and a tsk. Yet, Aziraphale saw no sympathy in those dark, dark eyes.

Aziraphale bit his lip. He knew to be wary of the two, but… He read through the scroll and indeed, it was there, penned and signed by the King of Hell himself. It was made abundantly clear today that Aziraphale—that Aziraphale had failed in his duty as the prince’s Guide. Crowley’s lost hope in his purpose—in their purpose— and was desperate enough to make a run for it, going so far as to try and beguile a mere Principality as an exit strategy.

Aziraphale’s chest twinged at the fresh wound, but he ignored it. He had to focus on his role and responsibilities and how to best help Crowley. How to best help their kingdoms. “Indeed,” he nodded. “Well then, what should I bring in preparation to this meeting?”

“Only yourself,” Ligur said, drawing closer and closer to the Principality. “You are his Guide after all. Your input on how to progress through the courtship and engagement to the Archangels will be invaluable.”

Close enough to perhaps even scent fear. “Yes, we are assured that you’re doing your best,” Hastur added, closing in on the lone, cagey bird, and something like a smile curled sourly on his lips. “The prince just happens to be…a stubborn, indolent thing.”

“A bit of a problem child, he is,” Ligur nodded with amusement.

Aziraphale felt a surge of protectiveness well up within him. “Don’t—”

“Oh, don’t get us wrong, Principality Aziraphale,” Hastur offered placatingly. “Like you said, We’re all on the same side.”

“The meeting is to help Prince Crowley achieve our goals of peace, after all,” Ligur added.

“All right,” Aziraphale said, a dizzying drop of dread, of doubt stirring in his gut. “And the meeting will be here, at the coordinates written?”

Hastur nodded. “Yes, by sundown, tomorrow.”

So soon? “Well. Then I shall go…prepare.” And as Aziraphale turned, he couldn’t be sure if it had just been a trick of the firelight or if he actually saw the twin, cruel grins shared between the Demons.

His heart thundered with anxiety, stammering right against his ribs as he reached for the door towards his rooms.

“Oh, one more thing…” Aziraphale nearly jolted at the how close Ligur sounded; he found with little surprise that the Demon had been right behind him as he swiveled around. “You must not tell any of your…winged brethren of this.”

“We don’t want to lose face before the other birds,” Hastur elaborated. “If they feel that Prince Crowley’s attempts have been…inadequate, it could be seen as an offense to the treaty. They may lose hope in the symbol of the prince’s engagement if our…difficulties were made public.”

“Do you understand, Principality Aziraphale?” Ligur asked, sounding more like a threat than a question.

Aziraphale swallowed. “You have my word,” he said, feeling very much like he’d pleaded guilty. “I’ll be there. I will tell no one.”

Guilty and faced with execution.

-----------------------

Oh my, imagine if I took a 3-month hiatus on this chapter instead. Also they did have the bandstand as a rendezvous point (the fourth rendezvous point in this story), but I really wanted the clocktower for symbolism and all that.

I do want to sincerely apologize for putting off this story for so long. Real life has been tough given the current situation and I felt more inclined to work on and finish shorter projects that felt like less commitment than working on this fic which had been a love letter to myself for getting back into writing after so many years. But I do love this fic and I swear that I'm not giving up on it. I want to see this fic through to the very end and I want to thank each and every one you, the readers, who're taking this journey with me.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable partners #crowley x aziraphale #fantasy AU #look i swear i didn't leave this story to rot #i have the ending all planned out and everything!#i just you know need to write it

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