#my one friend who always does my hair has a partner who has banned me from their place essentially bc they have beef with me over dumb shit | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

7-wonders · 2 years ago

Text

Our Very Own Greek Tragedy (Pt. 2 of 2)

Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x Reader

Summary: As the weeks begin to stretch on with no solution as to why you can't remember Morpheus and the Dreaming when you wake up, you begin to lose hope. Can yours be the rare tragedy with a happy ending?

Or, part two of "yes this is based on that post that I made about Reader and Morpheus being in a relationship in the Dreaming but then you don't remember your dreams when you wake up."

Word Count: 5.5k

Notes: Thank you guys so so so much for being patient with me as I dealt with one of the worst months I've ever been through, as well as your sweet messages. I cannot thank you enough for your support. I can only hope that, amidst the grief and the stress, this makes some sort of sense.

Let me know your thoughts! Feedback is always appreciated, likes, comments, and reblogs keep me going and make me happy, and my inbox is always open to chat about whatever!

Part One of Two

“...and for some reason, instead of choosing fight or flight, my body chose fight and flight.”

“Oh, no!”

“Oh, yes. So anyways, that’s how I got a five-year ban from the biggest haunted house in the city.” The man sitting across from you finishes telling his riot of a story about when he punched an actor playing Michael Myers in the face while simultaneously screaming and trying to run away, making you laugh harshly into the glass of water you’re attempting to take a sip out of.

Derek is 27, a software engineer who loves science fiction and photography. He’s handsome in a nerdy way, his big brown eyes hidden behind a pair of glasses and his brown hair simultaneously sophisticated and messy. Polite and with an understated sense of humor you’ve been laughing the entirety of tonight. Your friends have set you up on a date with him, insisting that he’s just your type and that you need to get out and meet new people.

And they’re right. Derek is traditionally your type, everything you’ve historically gone for in a potential partner. That’s why it’s so confusing that you’re really not that into him. He’s nice, to be sure, and you’re having fun, but in the way that you’d have fun when hanging out with one of your friends. It doesn’t feel right to call it a date.

You haven’t been feeling right the past couple of weeks, if you’re being honest with yourself. For some reason, it all seems to stem back to your sleep. Where before you would wake up everyday feeling refreshed and happy, now you find yourself defeated and upset before you can even get out of bed. It’s frustrating, even more so because you don’t know why it is that you’re feeling this way since you can’t remember whatever it is you’re dreaming about.

Maybe that’s why you’re surreptitiously checking the time on the clock above Derek’s shoulder, hoping that the next time you look, it will be an acceptable amount of time that you’ve been on this date and can suggest that it’s time for it to end. Maybe it’s just because you don’t feel a spark, which is too bad. You’ve enjoyed tonight, but on a strictly platonic level.

Eventually the date does come to an end. Derek drives you back to your home and even walks you to the door–a perfect gentleman, and normally a move you’d swoon over. Instead, you’re just feeling tired and more than a little bad at the fact that you don’t reciprocate the feelings you know that he has.

“I had a great time tonight,” Derek says, shyly shoving his hands into his coat pocket. He rocks back on his feet, trying to remain a respectable distance away.

“Yeah, it was fun!” You’re not lying to him; tonight was fun, just not romantically.

When his eyes flick from yours to your lips and back again, you decide to beat him to what he’s inevitably going to start leaning in for and give him a kiss on the cheek. To his credit, he hides the disappointment very well.

“Let me know when you get home safely?” you ask.

He nods a little too enthusiastically. God, it’s gonna suck having to tell him that you don’t want to date him. “Absolutely. I’ll talk to you soon.”

You smile and wave goodbye at him as he walks back to his car. The moment you close the door, your cheerful facade drops and you sigh heavily. Well, you think, at least it’s over.

Derek later texts you as promised, and you respond with a smiley face emoji and wishes for sweet dreams before setting your phone to ‘do not disturb.’ Tomorrow, you decide before you fall asleep. You’ll rip the bandage off with him tomorrow.

When you open your eyes in the Dreaming, guilt immediately begins to eat at you. There it is, your nightly refresher as to why you’re so miserable as of late; because you can’t remember the love of your life, the King of Dreams and Ruler of the Nightmare Realm, unless you’re asleep and with him in said realm. The moment that you open your eyes back in the Waking, which is where you spend the majority of your time, it’s as if Dream of the Endless doesn’t exist. Hence, the date you allowed yourself to be set up on.

While you’re certainly not doing any of this on purpose, that doesn’t make it any better. You’ve basically just cheated on Dream and had no qualms about it since your stupid Waking body doesn’t know that you’re in love. Though…maybe, subconsciously, you do? That’s really the only reason you can think of as to why you were so turned off of everything about the evening’s events and your date. It doesn’t make you feel that much better, but knowing that there’s a chance that your very soul knows who it belongs to (just as the holder of your soul belongs to you) does help.

Regardless, the guilt leads you to not leave the library and actively seek Morpheus out like you usually would. You’re definitely not hiding from him when you grab one of Sylvia Plath’s unpublished novels and tuck yourself in a small alcove with a window giving you a view of the mountains that are home to both dreams and nightmares. No, you’re just…making yourself scarce and catching up on some reading you didn’t know you had been wanting to do. Besides, Morpheus is busy running a realm and being Endless. Surely he has more, and better, to do than hunt you down?

Apparently, you’re mistaken. Barely an hour (at least, you think it’s an hour; time is a fickle, funny thing in the Dreaming) passes before the hair on the back of your neck prickles, the air shifts, and Morpheus appears in front of you. The stars in his eyes, which have always been your true indicator as to how he’s feeling, twinkle with all of the joy that his barely-there smile hides. It makes your heart, heavy with the knowledge of your betrayal, ache.

“My starlight,” he greets, holding a hand out for you to take.

Your knee pops when you stand, and you stifle a laugh at the horrified look on Morpheus’s face. It’s fun getting to see his reactions to the normal plights of humans, including joints that make odd noises.

“Hi.” You lean in to kiss him, and the look on his face after you do so tells you that nothing’s going to get by him.

“Something is wrong.”

Dammit. And just when you had decided on the course of pretending like everything was a-okay.

“What makes you say that?” you stammer.

“Your eyes.” His hand comes to your cheek, and his thumb strokes the skin under your eye. “You’re…sad. Uncertain. Why?”

Dammit.

Instead of answering, you throw your arms around him and bury your face into his chest. You can’t look at him, not when you whisper, “I went on a date.”

Morpheus hums, not hearing what you said. “What?”

“I said, I went on a date.”

He stiffens under your hold, and it makes you feel sick to your stomach. You pull away from him, holding your hands behind your back in an attempt to keep them from shaking so violently. They still continue to shake, but at least Morpheus doesn’t see it.

“I didn’t even like him!” you try to explain. “I went because my friends basically forced me on a date and I wanted to get them off my case. We had dinner, it was nice, then he drove me back home. That’s it. But then I woke up here and I’m so ashamed at what I did. I couldn’t keep something like this from you.”

Morpheus is silent as he tries to keep his composure, and you don’t blame him. You’d be mad too, even if there are extenuating circumstances that led to the aforementioned date. Though you want to keep talking and trying to explain yourself, you know that this would just lead to you continuing to dig a bigger hole for yourself, so you wait for him to make the first move.

When he does speak, he does so quietly. You’re staring out the window, too nervous to face him, but you can feel his gaze on you as he says, “You are not at fault here.”

You scoff. He repeats this phrase so often lately that you wouldn’t be surprised if it becomes the new Dreaming slogan. You know he’s speaking truthfully, that he doesn’t hold any sort of contempt towards you for this. As he’s said to you so many times now, he can’t be mad at you when you quite literally don’t remember any part of the Dreaming when you wake up. You, however, can and will be extremely mad at yourself.

Days of research into why you don’t remember and how you could potentially remember has turned into weeks of research, which has now become months of research. And still, you’re not any closer to finding an answer to this question that’s plagued both you and Morpheus. Any of the rare potential solutions that you’ve come up with have been unfeasible: witches asked too high a price with no guarantee that anything they tried would work, Morpheus’s few mortal contacts could not find any lead to help, and the Dreaming’s library didn’t hold any answers.

The only real fix that anybody had come up with would be for you to move to the Dreaming permanently. While that was certainly a plan that you had, you also still enjoyed the life that you live in the Waking, and there would be loose ends for you to tie up in order to move. Morpheus would basically have to kidnap your unknowing, Waking self, and neither you nor he were willing to deal with the potential trauma of that, no matter how desperate you were becoming.

“Well it still feels a lot like I am,” you say, “especially when it’s causing you so much pain.”

“You are in pain as well,” Morpheus points out.

He’s right, of course. You really hate it when he’s right; and he’s right a lot. Another perk of being Endless, you suppose. That, or being alive for a really long time just gives you the natural ability to always know what to say.

“You’re not mad at me for basically cheating on you?” you ask.

You’re not at all expecting Morpheus to laugh at your earnest question. Though you’ve heard his laugh before, it’s always a little disconcerting; harsh and grating, like it’s coming from someone who’s both never laughed and never heard a laugh. Even still, you love his awful, full-throated laugh. You just didn’t think that this situation would elicit such a reaction from him.

“I would hardly call one miserable evening spent with a male suitor who did not have any sort of chance with you ‘cheating,’ my love.” He seems awfully pleased about all of this, and while you’re happy for him, you’re also a little confused. “You said it yourself that your friends forced you to go, and that you had no interest in the man. I am jealous that I was not the one able to take you to dinner in the Waking, but there is nothing for you to feel any sort of guilt over.”

It’s certainly a relief to know that he doesn’t hold any grudge against you, nor does he see this as the same grievous error that you do. You’d feel a whole lot more relieved, however, if you didn’t have to worry about any of this at all and could just be happy with your love in both of your realms.

“What do we do?” you ask finally, today’s Waking events giving you a bad feeling about things to come.

“We continue to search, and in the meantime, we love each other as we always have.”

“You still want me?” You’re only half-joking, and he knows it. “Even with all of this trouble?”

“I want you in any way that I can have you. If, one day, you were to decide that our love was not meant to be, I would still be content with being a mere observer in your life.”

“I would never,” you say earnestly. “You know that, right? Sorry to break it to you, but you’re stuck with me.”

“And what an honor and a joy it is,” he says before leaning down to rest his forehead against yours.

The odds, you know, are insurmountable. But for now, here, in Morpheus’s arms, it feels a little more doable.

•••

Morpheus remains in his throne room long after you’ve returned to the Waking. Though he did his best to take both your mind and his off of the troubles you’re facing, the awareness of said troubles always remains on the periphery. Now, he stares up at the galaxy that swirls above his head, hoping that the stars will hold some sort of answer within their constellations.

What if there is no solution? What if this is just the universe’s way of truly expressing its disdain for Morpheus; by giving him the love that he had only wished to have, just for his lover to be doomed not to remember him when not in the Dreaming? Some would call him dramatic, but he believes that, were this to be the case, he would not survive such a heartbreak. Now that he’s had you in his life, he simply cannot go on living any sort of an existence without you.

He’s teetering precariously on the edge of a dangerous thought spiral when Matthew lands on his throne with a caw, breaking him out of such morose thinking. “Boss, you got a minute?”

“What do you require, Matthew?” Morpheus asks.

“Lucienne is looking for you, she wants you to meet her in the library when you get the chance.”

It’s not as if he’s doing anything but brooding (moping, you would call it), so Morpheus stands from the stairs that he finds preferable to his throne when he’s not required to conduct official business and nods at his emissary. “Let us not keep her waiting, then.”

Lucienne looks as though she’s been waiting for Morpheus to arrive since the moment she sent Matthew off to request an audience with him. She’s already looking down the long aisle that gives her a direct view of the main doors from her desk, and she stands in recognition when Morpheus and Matthew appear.

“Matthew said you were looking for me?”

“My Lord,” Lucienne greets. “Do you remember when Lady Constantine completed a task for you in 1794?” She has the tact to not say what that task was, knowing that giving more detail than necessary will do nothing but bring more heartbreak to Morpheus.

He nods. “Of course.”

“You had her drink from a spring near the Shores of Creation, so that she would remember the conversation she had with you about how to escape Robespierre. Might that same spring be an option for her Ladyship?”

Even in such dire circumstances, Morpheus still finds himself fighting a smile at the title Lucienne addresses you as. You hate being referred to so formally, and always insist to everyone that they just call you by your name if they need to address you. Most have adjusted to the request, but Lucienne still holds steadfast to traditional conventions.

“When I rebuilt the Dreaming, the spring did not come back. I know not why, nor do I know how it came to be all those years ago,” Morpheus explains.

“So we must attempt to find answers through other avenues. Perhaps we peek into the past?”

“Do we know any time travelers?” Matthew muses lightheartedly.

Morpheus shakes his head and says, “The last time traveler I knew, I have not seen in almost three hundred years.”

Matthew’s feathers ruffle as if he’s about to comment on how he was just making a joke and didn’t expect time travelers to actually be real, but Lucienne cuts in with an idea before he can speak. “The Fates could potentially help.”

“As you said to me once before, the Fates speak in riddles. I do not believe they would be particularly insightful in a matter such as this.”

She nods, and thinks for a moment more. “Your sister has continually reminded you that the family is willing to assist one another, given such assistance is asked for. Might Destiny be willing?”

His first instinct is to emphatically turn down this suggestion. But Lucienne is right; the Endless siblings (most of them, that is), for all their interpersonal troubles, are also more than willing to help out another member of the family should they ask. For most members of the family, their price for assisting with such a request would be far too steep. However…

He has two siblings that would be the most open to helping, and only one would do so solely based on a sense of duty. That same sibling would likely hold the most information about the past, which is the information that he needs. However, this could also be a dead end. For all that Morpheus insists on sticking to the rules that help to keep his realm in order, his older brother somehow makes Morpheus look like a rebellious teen when it comes to following rules.

It’s a gamble, but it seems to be pretty safe. With that in mind, Morpheus makes his decision. “As far as my siblings are concerned, Destiny is the one that would not require any sort of favor from me. If it is written in the Book that he is meant to help me, then he shall. Likewise, he will not help if that is what the Book commands.”

“It is likely the lowest stakes you are going to get here. And if Destiny cannot help, the Fates can serve as a backup plan,” Lucienne points out.

“I shall contact my brother, then.” He waits for Matthew to land on his shoulder before turning back to look at his librarian. “Thank you for your wisdom and assistance, Lucienne. It is…much appreciated.”

Lucienne flattens her lips against each other, but it does nothing to stop the smile that’s fighting to appear on her face. “You’re most welcome, my Lord.”

Morpheus nods and tries not to look as humbled as he feels. He really must stop taking Lucienne and her counsel for granted. How many times throughout the course of Lucienne’s long, long life spent as a creature of the Dreaming has she talked Morpheus off of the proverbial ledge?

As he walks into his gallery to request a meeting with his brother, the first frame, the one containing a large book, begins to glow. “Dream,” a voice says from the frame, “it is I, Destiny of the Endless. I stand in my gallery and hold your sigil, brother. Won’t you come through?”

This meeting was meant to happen, then.

“I will go alone, Matthew,” Morpheus directs. Though Matthew shifts uncomfortably, like he’s not quite sure he wants to let Morpheus do this without him, he jerks his head in a nod nonetheless.

“Good luck!” Matthew wishes before taking off through the open door and making his way back into the Dreaming proper. With a sigh, Morpheus rolls his shoulders back to make himself stand straight and proud as he steps through the portrait frame and out into his eldest sibling’s realm.

The Garden of Forking Ways is always a little disconcerting, no matter how many times Morpheus has visited the realm of Destiny of the Endless. There are an infinite number of paths that one might take, so many that it becomes almost dizzying to look at, and Morpheus imagines it would be quite easy to become forever lost in this never-ending labyrinth. Thankfully, his brother has been expecting him, and is there the moment that Morpheus appears.

“Well-met, Destiny,” Dream greets.

Destiny stands as tall and imposing as ever, the hood of his cloak pulled low over his unseeing, milky eyes. Those that know him, which is really only his siblings, would argue that, though Destiny is blind, he, in fact, sees all, even that which everyone else cannot see with normal vision.

When Dream arrives, Destiny lays a hand over the book that is forever chained to him. Evidently, the book has told him whatever it is he needed to know, for he nods and gestures Dream closer to him.

“My brother, I thank you for answering my call.” This is as warm as Destiny will ever get; Morpheus, however, has had an eternity to get used to these mannerisms, and knows that this is uncharacteristically tender coming from Destiny.

“You call on the family so little, and I can hardly recall the last time you summoned me individually. What is the matter?”

“Father Time visited my realm some time ago. He said that he had a boon for you, one that was granted as some recompense for your imprisonment. Father, being who he is, could not remember if your boon would help you in the past, present, or future. At least, I believed that he could not remember, for when I asked which it was, he simply said ‘yes’ before taking his leave.”

Morpheus would be lying if he were to say that he didn’t believe he deserved some sort of restitution from the universe or the Creator for all that he had gone through. Still, he never imagined that said amends would be coming from Father Time, who, at best, has only ever shown a vague disinterest in the lives of his children.

(He would also be lying if he were to say that he wasn’t at least a little jealous that their father had deigned to bless one of his children with a rare visit. Of course it was Destiny; the eldest, the wisest, the favorite. He thought that he had long-since come to terms with his family and their strange dynamics, but something about being directly confronted with such a fact has him feeling every bit the middle child that he is.)

From within his robes, Destiny produces a vial which he holds out towards his brother between his thumb and forefinger. Morpheus stares at the pink liquid within and wonders if he should really get his hopes up, or if this is just simply a cruel joke. But no, it’s not. He can feel the dreamstuff that the liquid is made out of, for he is also dreamstuff, and the dreamstuff is he. Like recognizes like.

“I now understand what he meant, and I believe you will as well. Do you know what this is?”

Of course he knows what it is. How could he not, when, for all intents and purposes, it appears to be of his realm? “Water from the spring that used to run near the Shores of Creation?”

Destiny nods, and Morpheus feels his chest tighten. “Thus, his comments make perfect sense now. The past, being that this spring no longer flows in your realm. Presently, you are looking for a solution. With this, your future will be achieved, one way or another.”

He very much agrees with that hypothesis, though the last statement does cause him to pause. “What do you mean, brother? ‘One way or another’?”

“I have said what is to be said.”

To be fair, it’s more than what Destiny would typically say in such a situation, and Morpheus is grateful for it. Still, he remains wary; when has his family ever been clear in their actions without any sort of ulterior motive? “And it is mine? There are no…stipulations, or deals that I must adhere to?”

“It was given freely, for you to use as you wish. A gift, and nothing more.”

For the first time in weeks, Morpheus feels like he can breathe freely. “Thank you, Destiny. Truly.”

“I wish luck to you and your bride. I shall see you soon, when realms meet and the old converges with the new.”

Morpheus doesn’t bother trying to decipher his brother’s cryptic words. What will be, will be, and only once it’s happened will the connection to Destiny’s prophecy make sense.

His own gallery appears before him in a flash, Destiny having sent his brother back to his own realm upon their business being concluded. The vial of spring water still remains in his hand, and he closes his hand around it tightly to remind himself that it’s here and real. The solution that they’ve been searching for, housed in such a small container that he almost worries that he’ll misplace it.

For the rest of the day, he can only halfheartedly complete the tasks that he had intended to finish. His mind is so distracted that, at one point, he’s pretty sure that he gave The Corinthian (remade without certain traits that made the first iteration a failed project) permission to take a day trip to the Waking. That will surely have to be addressed later, but it can wait. It has to wait. The only thing that he can think clearly about is the small bottle currently sitting in his pocket, which might finally hold the key to your problems.

Morpheus can feel you pass through the barrier separating your realm from his almost as easily as he can feel Matthew do the same. So when you finally, finally fall asleep, he’s there in the library at the exact same moment as you. When you see him, you jump in fright, obviously not expecting him to be right in front of you.

“Give a little warning next time you feel the need to try and send me into a heart attack!” Regardless of your feigned chagrin, you kiss him in greeting before smiling at him.

“Hopefully you’ll forgive me when I tell you that I have good news.”

“What kind of good news?”

Morpheus feels as though every atom in his body is vibrating from the excitement, so much so that he glances down at his hands to see if they’re physically shaking (they’re not). “I appear to have been granted a boon from my father.”

You look bewildered, but it’s not towards what Morpheus had been expecting you to be confused about. “You have a dad?”

“Time.”

“We’ll focus on that later,” you say, shaking your head as if to draw yourself away from this new fact. “What did he give you?”

“Long ago, a spring ran through the Dreaming. The waters of this spring, when consumed, allowed the drinker to remember what had happened within the Dreaming as easily as if they were recalling their day in the Waking. After my imprisonment, when I rebuilt my realm, the spring was absent, for reasons unknown to me.

“Father told my brother, Destiny, that I was owed recompense for my capture, and that the gift he entrusted Destiny to give to me was such payment.” Morpheus reaches into the pocket on the outside of his coat, the only one with lining not made of the universe, and pulls out the glass vial. “The gift was water from the spring, water that I did not believe would ever be in the Dreaming again.”

“So, if I drink this, then…” You don’t say what you’re thinking, not wanting to get your hopes up. Morpheus, having been in your shoes mere hours before, knows exactly how you’re feeling.

“You should be able to remember everything about the Dreaming, about me, when you wake up.” Morpheus hands you the glass container, pressing it gently into your palm. “I will not force you to drink it, however. The choice is yours.”

You scoff and tease, “Do all of the declarations of love and fidelity mean nothing to you?”

The top of the vial is pried off with the nail of your thumb, and you take an experimental sniff of the liquid inside. Once it’s passed whatever test you’ve just administered, you toss your head back and take it as though it’s a shot of liquor. Morpheus doesn’t ever recall actually being one to take a shot, but one sees their fair share of creatures imbibing on all manner of alcohol when one converses with the likes of Faerie and gods.

The actual act of you drinking the water is anticlimactic, and the disappointment shows clearly on your face when you say, “I don’t feel any different.” Still, Morpheus is not discouraged.

“Though it has been about three hundred years since the spring was last used, I do not recall any instant symptoms to show that it had worked. Unfortunately, the only thing we can do is wait.”

Despite his reassurance, you still pout. “Well, that sucks.”

“I am quite sure that we will find some way to pass the time until you wake,” Morpheus says, as if you’ve forgotten that you can quite literally do whatever you want when in the Dreaming. “In the meantime, there is something that I wish to give you.”

“Something else besides magic water?”

“Close your eyes.”

You do as he asks, of course. He moves to stand behind you, reaching into the air and pulling down the gift that he has been intending to give you. His long fingers work to fasten a clasp after he lays the chain around your neck, and when he finishes, he lays his hands on your shoulders. Taking that as a signal, you open your eyes again and look down.

A beautiful silver necklace rests just under the hollow of your throat. He watches as you hold the charm in your hand and run your thumb down the notches of the vertebrae-like trunk. Once you realize that it’s his sigil you hold, you turn in his grasp to meet his eyes.

“Morpheus, this is–” You’re stunned at the significance of such a gift. While he had discussed his desire to give you a wedding ring, being aware of the mortal custom for married couples to wear such jewelry, for Morpheus, this is his version of such a token that signifies devotion and partnership.

“It is yours, and shall remain on your neck when you return to the Waking. My hope is that you will remember me when you wake. If that is the case, you need only call for me while holding my sigil, and I will hear you.”

You kiss him repeatedly in thanks until his head feels like it’s spinning and he starts to think that he understands what mortal dizziness must feel like. “Thank you, truly. I’ve never received such a meaningful gift before.”

“Let us hope you can actually use it come tomorrow. Now, I believe I promised that I would let you win our next chess match?” He had promised such a thing after you had begged him to teach you how to play and then witnessed your subsequent frustration upon continually losing to a being who has played the game since its invention.

“Just announce it to everybody that I suck at chess, why don’t you,” you say fondly before taking his offered hand and letting him do his best to help find some way to pass the time until you wake.

•••

When you open your eyes and catalog the mid-morning sun filtering in through a crack in your curtains, you notice that this is the best that you’ve felt after waking up for weeks now. You roll over, hoping to catch a couple more hours of sleep since it’s the weekend and you have nowhere to be until the afternoon. A sharp poking on your chest has you aborting the idea of laying on your stomach, and you sit up instead to see what it is that’s disrupted your plan.

Around your neck lies a necklace that you most definitely did not go to bed wearing. The charm is like nothing you’ve seen before; if you had to guess, you’d call it some weird, mosquito-like creature. Your thumb traces the spiny trunk as you turn it this way and that to study it, and you watch the light glint in the two rubies that you think are meant to be eyes. A bolt of familiarity runs through you, but you’re not sure why.

Then, it hits you. This is Morpheus’s sigil that you’re wearing–a miniature figure of his helm, his main tool of office.

Morpheus, the love of your life.

Morpheus, the man who you normally don’t remember when you wake up.

“Morpheus!” you gasp, holding the necklace against your skin with both hands. “My love, I hold the necklace with your sigil on it, which you told me to use to call for you. Can you hear me?”

The seconds stretch out longer than any you’ve ever experienced as you wait agonizingly to see if your summoning worked. Then, the hair on the back of your neck prickles, the air shifts, and a smile grows to match the one that the man with starry eyes that appears standing before you wears.

“You called?”

•••

Tag list: @igotanidea @chocogoths @kiwistarfruit @craftygamerscrafts @aspenmushroom69 @shadow-pancake9 @mr-sandman-bring-me-a-dream @pinksirensong @musemaniac42 @rosaren2498 @deniixlovezelda @beyondmystery @sloanexx @1950schick @padsfirewhisky @wendds @mageneire @lexi-anastasia @rockergirl57 @commanderfreethatdust @inannamoon @my-fic-corner @sayumiht

#morpheus #morpheus imagine #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless imagine #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless #the sandman imagine #the sandman

259 notes · View notes

dearestones · 2 years ago

Text

Twisted Wonderland Matchup: Trey Clover

Warnings: Fluff.

Anonymous Request: ♡ hello! i just came across your blog and wanted to say as a matchup writer myself i feel inspired by your writing (ुŏ̥̥ŏ̥̥) it's very soft but still expresses such emotion.

that said, i was wondering if i could ask one too for romantic twst? if that's okay, you can call me Len! i usually go by she/her and prefer guys (tho ig there's not much of an option in this game). i'm about 158cm with pale skin, brown hair and blue eyes + glasses cause i might as well be blind without them. personality-wise i'm definitely more on the introverted side but regardless i'm pretty adventurous and excitable. i tend to get along with people relatively easily despite that i lack some social skill ^^; i appreciate humour, loyalty and kindness in others and strive for these traits myself. i'm currently studying english as my major but i love learning about languages overall, i can speak four at the moment! i feel like i sometimes lack passion yet still be an overthinker, so might i have a hard time deciding for myself... i'm also really stubborn.

some of my hobbies are taking walks, baking and playing games. i really love dogs, sweets and flowers. i'm also in my frog-obession phase rn xD often i can't stand travelling by motor vehicles because of my motion-sickness. nevertheless, my current dream is to travel to a tundra/desert/etc. and go stargazing under the clearest, most open sky there is.

thank you for your time! i hope you have a pleasant day/night <3

After reading through your description, I believe that you best pair well with Trey Clover!

The first thing that Trey notices about you is that you look very adorable with glasses! He doesn’t have a preference for what his romantic partner looks like, but he can’t deny that you look ridiculously cute with glasses on. It does not help that they magnify your blue eyes so well that they make you especially adorable. Plus, he can relate with the whole “practically being blind” without them—his prescription is fairly high and if he doesn’t wear them, he tends to bump into things or squinting too hard that he gets headaches. If you don’t have the appropriate cloth for cleaning them, he’ll gladly lend you his!

(Later on, in your relationship, he’ll pluck them off your face, clean them thoroughly, and then place them back onto your nose. He might make a game out of it to tease you, but don’t worry about his handling of them—he knows what he’s doing!)

Trey is a person who’s rather grounded, so he finds your introverted nature to be a pleasant experience compared to the shenanigans the rest of his dorm members get up to. However, he must add that your excitability and lust for adventure is a good counterbalance. These traits, when combined equally, make for a recipe for an ideal partner. If you’re feeling more introverted, he’ll do most of the talking, which is mostly him telling you stupid puns about baking or regaling you with cute stories about his younger siblings. However, if you’re feeling more sociable, he’ll gladly take a backseat to whatever has grabbed your attention.

As for your social skills, don’t worry if you’re ever offending him or if you feel embarrassed about your actions. One of Trey’s closest friends is Rook Hunt, so… Well, don’t you worry about that. Trey is adept at navigating your emotions and what you want in the moment. If you have a hard time expressing your wants, he’ll be patient with you and gently guide you. There are times when he won’t be as helpful—only merely guiding you in the right direction—but it’s not out of malice. He believes in you and your capacity to be yourself.

Humour, loyalty, and kindness? Goodness, it’s a good thing that you’re paired with Trey! While he may be a troublemaker at his worst, he still has your best interests at heart. His pranks and white lies are always made with the intent to make for a hilarious story in the future. And, if you ban him from pranking you (please don’t, he’s a mischievous boy and he needs a healthy outlet for said mischievousness), he’ll resort to torturing you with puns.

All the puns. Just for you. You’ll suffer and you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.

Oh my, a scholar like yourself amazes Trey! He may have the potential to be a rival for top student, but he quite likes being part of the background. The fact that you’re unashamedly proud of your accomplishment (four languages! such dedication!) makes him also puff his chest in pride. You’re his lover and you’re so smart and intelligent and cute and adorable and hard working and confident and—

Trey loves you regardless of what you may think about your passion (or lack thereof) or your tendency to overthink. That said, please don’t overthink your relationship with him. He’ll never let you go unless he explicitly says so, but there’s no chance of that happening because why would he? Why would you? Was it puns? Please don’t tell him it’s the puns…

Baking and sweets? Sweets and baking? Match made in heaven? Trey isn’t one to think too hard about the future, but… If you’re still together… Would you like… To perhaps… Work with him in his parents’ bakery once he inherits it?

(Marriage. He’s talking about marriage. Or life partners. Whichever you like. Just, please think about working with him everyday doing the things that make the both of you happy for the rest of your lives!)

As for your dreams, Trey will do everything in his power to make them true. He may not be as keen about frogs, but why not go camping with him so that the both of you can stargaze together? He’ll pack some baked goods in advance so you’ll have something to munch on while you try to name the stars.

In the end, you make Trey want to become a better person for you. He’s not always a good person, and he knows this, but you give him a reason to try harder instead of stagnate in mediocrity. It’s not always apparent since he’s keen on mischief, but he takes your relationship with him seriously. He only hopes that you do the same.

If you want to donate a Ko-Fi, feel free https://ko-fi.com/devintrinidad.

TWISTED WONDERLAND MASTERLIST

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland trey clover #twst trey clover #twisted wonderland trey #twst trey #twisted wonderland matchup #character matchup #matchup #dearestones #devintrinidad #oh my gosh thank you for your kind words #soft but still filled with emotion??? that's awesome to hear!#do you think i can get a matchup from you? feel free to dm me

1 note · View note

nbmlmxreaders · 3 years ago

Text

NEWT SCAMANDER X ORIGINAL MALE CHARACTER

Hello! This is an interest check. The Harry Potter fandom (especially the Fantastic Beasts fandom,) feels rather dead to me right now — and understandably so — but my hands have been itching so very badly to write a Newt Scamander fic that's been burned in the back of my head. (Mind you, this idea has been here since 2018!)

As writer, my motivation runs on interaction and engagement :( So, this interest check is here to help me see if my efforts shall be worth it. Do like, reblog, or comment if you'd like to see my work!

#SUMMARY/OVERVIEW:

(This fic takes place during the 2nd film, The Crimes of Grindelwald. There are some alterations here and there, but nothing too drastic.)

Instead of hiding from the Ministry, Newt’s travel ban is lifted under the condition that he is accompanied by an Auror.

Theseus Scamander has a friend; a partner. An Auror by the name of Theodore Turner, who is known as one of the Ministry of Magic’s greatest wizards. (He also happens to be Newt’s old Slytherin schoolmate.) He is skilled, intelligent, and quick on his feet. However, beyond his brilliance as an officer, lies a snarky and somewhat self-centered personality that has the tendency to irk people.

Despite Newt’s very strong emotions for Mr. Turner, he has no choice but to cooperate and spend a good couple of months with the Auror if it means being able to travel internationally again. Throughout their time together, the men form an unlikely bond; and the Magizoologist discovers a certain talent that his probation officer keeps secret.

Newt Scamander, a Magizoologist, and Theodore Turner, a renowned Auror, are anything but similar. With such contrasting personalities, one may think that it would be impossible for them to ever get along. And that would be correct, if it weren’t for a certain passion that they share. Beyond their differences, lies an undying love for all magical creatures.

#GENRE: action, romance, buddy-cop (of sorts), semi-slowburn, enemies to lovers type beat, conflicted emotions because Newt still has feelings for Tina.

#MORE ON THEODORE TURNER:

Theodore Philip Lockley Turner is a renowned Auror from the British Ministry of Magic. He has created a name for himself, for solving the most cases in the history of the organisation, and for also arresting some of London’s most dangerous criminals. He is yet to be faced with a case that he cannot solve. He is the pureblood son of Cecil Turner (deceased) and Arnold Lockley (deceased). Currently 35 years old, he stands at 6 feet and 2 inches tall, has thick, short black hair, dark-brown eyes, and dark skin. His usual attire is a beige-colored long coat.

As a young wizard, he attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and was sorted into the Slytherin House. He was known for his childish antics, always found beside his batchmate, Theseus Scamander, causing trouble wherever his recklessness allowed it. Upon turning sixteen, his personality had taken a drastic turn. From his sixth to seventh year, he had taken his studies much more seriously, and was even appointed as Head Boy for all of his academic achievements.

Theodore is sociable, extroverted, and capable of speaking to almost anyone. He will not shy away from a conversation, or sit idly by while a party commences. People claim that there are two sides to him; the side for fun, and the side for work. His side for work is a very serious man who takes no time to joke around. Once he’s into a case, he won’t ever let it go. He can be hardworking when he wants to be. He’s as persistent as he is stubborn, known for violating the Ministry’s orders every once in a while. The only reason as to why he gets away with it is because it always works out.

His likes and hobbies include jazz, sketching, puzzle-solving, and drinking. (He also bears a secret liking towards mythical creatures.)

#EXTRA FACTS:

He does not like being called “Theodore” and prefers the name “Theo”. (He doesn’t like “Philip” either.)

His mother bred hippogriffs up until her death. He tried to maintain her flock after her passing, but failed to do so due to his studies.

His favourite food is sugar-dusted bread with a nice glass of wine.

He enjoys sketching and has dozens upon dozens of unfinished sketchbooks in his desk.

He wears his mother’s wedding ring as a pendant, and hopes to share it with the love of his life some day.

that’s all for now! thank you for taking the time to read through! don’t forget to interact in any way possible if you’d like to see more ^^ take care!

#newt scamander #newt scamander x reader #newt scamander x male oc #potterverse #slytherin oc #fantastic beats and where to find them #fantastic Beasts #fantastic beats the crimes of grindelwald #fbawtft #fantastic beasts and the secrets of dumbledore

126 notes · View notes

whore-for-fluff · 2 years ago

Text

my at-hogwarts marauders era headcanons <3

- They all grow up happy and untroubled by anything other than that huge essay Slughorn set on Amortentia

- Lily and Remus have a bi-weekly ‘girls night’ where they get wasted and gossip about their boyfriends, and when they get home, James and Sirius fall in love even more with their adorable drunk partners

- Sirius used to try and distract Remus from studying, but now he just loves watching how Remus’s nose scrunches up when he concentrates

- Peter tries to organise group monopoly every few weeks, but his efforts have always failed and group monopoly almost always ends up in either vigorous snogging or the threat (and sometimes violent beginnings) of a duel to the death

- James always falls asleep after Lily and wakes up before her, and there’s nothing he loves more than playing with her hair and watching the confused look on her face every morning when she wakes up

- Sirius and Remus always walk in on James and Lily making out in the common room, and everytime they do, they sigh at the couple and yell ‘use protection kids!’

- When they’re alone, the four boys always poke fun at James for being so hopelessly in love with Lily, but James loves it because he’s glad it’s obvious how smitten he is

- Lily and Remus take everyone bowling in the summer holidays, and are over-the-moon when the two muggleborn kids absolutely thrash all of their quidditch-playing pure/half-blood friends - everyone else sulks for days

- Remus still isn’t used to being able to just stare at his boyfriend, and Sirius still catches Remus looking at him before turning away and blushing, which Sirius finds so fucking cute

- Peter has banned couples sharing a bed since the incident of the-night-when-remus-and-sirius-forgot-to-use-muffliato, and does nightly bed checks before sleeping, which the boys find endlessly hilarious… They stopped finding it funny when Peter kicked Lily out in a fit of rage, who tried to hide at the foot of James’ bed

- Lily and James organise karaoke night where they sing along to songs on vinyl; Remus refuses to join in until he’s had a few drinks and ends up singing love songs to ‘my really hot boyfriend with beautiful hair’, who simply melts

- Sirius sneaks Remus to the astronomy tower to have a picnic under the stars for ‘his Moony’s birthday’, and McGonagall catches them, but she simply says ‘it’s so dark tonight, it’s difficult to see two feet in front of me’ and then waves them off with a wink and a shushing gesture

- Lily once felt really sick after one night of heavy drinking, and Sirius found her throwing up on the toilet and stayed with her for an hour, rubbing her back, holding her hair up and making her laugh

- Every single time James runs his hand through his hair or his glasses slip off his nose, Lily’s stomach erupts with butterflies

- Sirius and James are endlessly protective of Remus and Lily, and have been known to get into physical altercations with some Slytherins who made a poor error in judgement and joked about the two muggle-borns within earshot of the two boys

32 notes · View notes

boredfanwrites · 3 years ago

Text

Buddie #1

There is not a bone in my body that can accept that in any other universe they wouldn't be perfect together. Post 4x14 so SPOILERS for that. This got so much longer than I thought it would be. Sorry in advance, there's much more under the cut.

· Eddie tells him about the will. Chris goes to Buck if anything happens to Eddie. Which it very nearly did.

· It causes Buck to actually stop and think things through before rushing into danger.

· The rest of the team question it while Eddie's recovering but he just says there's someone relying on him now.

· They take it to mean Taylor - well Chimney and Albert do, Hen and Bobby are more clued in.

· Buck talks about Eddie and Chris like he did when they quarantined together - like they're living together again.

· They are.

· Buck moved in to help Eddie and his recovery, with Ana stepping in when he was on shifts - even if she tended to undo everything Buck had done.

· He tells himself it's because she's not used to the way he and Eddie do things - yes that one singular bowl and plate live in the lower cupboard, it's so Eddie can reach them easily. Chris always picks the movie on movie nights, Eddie and Buck alternate when he's gone to bed.

· Eddie is stubborn as always, but has managed to allow Buck to help him dress and shower - Ana is very much not allowed, despite her protests they're barely in a relationship.

· Eddie explains to Buck that yes, they've been together for six months but they've not really been togetherand he quietly admits that he regrets telling Chris so soon.

· Buck calms him and says that it was right to introduce Chris to the idea of Eddie dating, but yeah, maybe it wasn't smart to spring Ana on him so early - especially because she decided she had to be a bigger part of his life now he was aware.

· Chris manages to get to the station once while Buck is on shift.

· Buck comes back to Albert making him pancakes and Chris scribbling with the things they keep for the school trips.

· 'What are you doing here, bud? Does your dad know?'

· 'Kinda.'

· 'What does kinda mean here?'

· 'He knows I wanted to see you. I don't think he knows that I came here.'

· Albert quickly jumps in saying he's texted Eddie and he and Carla are on their way, it just happens that the rig got back before they got there.

· Buck sits down with Chris, leaning his head on his arms and looks at the picture. It's him, Eddie and Buck with Carla and her husband in the background.

· 'What's wrong, Chris?'

· 'Ana.'

· 'Ok, what did she do?'

· 'Tried to get me to bath before I ate and then said I had to do my homework before TV time.'

· 'Buddy, you always have to do your homework before TV time.'

· 'But she tried to help me.'

· 'Your dad and I try our best to help you. She's a teacher, she's better use than us.'

· 'No that's not it.'

· Chris has tears in his eyes and a death grip on his crayon.

· 'She told the poor boy his handwriting was ineligible and took his pencil, tried to get him to tell her the answers and that she would write them for him.' Carla sighs.

· She stands with her arms open and Chris runs into them. Eddie looms behind them, looking sad.

· Well, neutral really, but Buck knows his micro expressions well enough.

· After that Ana is banned from the house in the afternoons/evenings and Carla steps back in. The new problem is Ana turning up when Buck has days off - their schedule was she was here when Buck wasn't, for multiple reasons.

· Ana's great, there's just something about her that Buck doesn't like and she definitely doesn't like Buck. Maybe it's because they're just opposites.

· Eddie tries to gently tell her that he barely gets to see Buck anymore and he needs it for his mental health. Ana starts pestering about the fact that he should want to see his girlfriend more than his best friend.

· It's one of their biggest fights and turns into a screaming match one night (Chris is at Hen's with Denny but Buck is hiding away in the guest room) where Eddie shouts that she had decided that she was his girlfriend without asking Eddie if that was what he wanted and she was suffocating.

· She leaves pretty quickly after that and Buck is incredibly happy as their paths never cross again.

· There's an emptiness settling in his chest when he finds out that the two are still together and are treating the relationship as though they're just dating again. He hates that he really doesn't like the idea that it's working out now that they're on even footing.

· He decides to push it away and starts getting reckless again. Taylor's hanging around the station more like she wants more from Buck, but he'd given up. She liked being chased and now that he's tired of it, she wants him. He knows she'll get bored if he shows interest again.

· It's interest he doesn't have. Eddie had called him Evan and told him he deserved more. How was he supposed to go back to normal after that?

· Why doesn't Eddie see how life changing that was?

· Eddie does. But in typical Eddie fashion, he pushes it deep down and replaces it with his content being with Ana. She makes his parents happy, which makes him happy. She gets along with Pepa and Isabel and his sisters, but they act a lot more familial with Buck.

· It makes sense, he tells himself - they've had years with Buck.

· Nothing really changes for Buck until TK and Judd find themselves in LA. Buck hastily explains to TK that he wasn't asking him out back in Austin, he just wanted a friend and really he wasn't attracted to guys.

· TK just straight up laughs at Buck.

· 'Buckley, you checked me, Carlos, and the barista out in the span of like five minutes. You're a little attracted to guys.'

· 'Wait, you mean you and Diaz ain't datin'?'

· Judd's question throws Buck through a loop.

· 'What? No...we're just...we're friends. Best friends.'

· TK laughs again, patting Buck on the shoulder.

· Once they're on their last day, TK takes Buck out for a drink like he'd promised. Buck tries to ignore the fact he's brought him to a gay bar.

· He gets hit on at least three times in an hour, not to mention the building collection of beers for both him and TK and he decides he doesn't actually mind it.

· 'Ok, I want you to do something for me. Scan the crowd and pick a guy, any guy, and tell me what you find attractive about him.'

· Buck picks out a shorter man, tanned skin and dark hair.

· 'He's got a cute smile.'

· 'Oh boy, you have a type.'

· 'Huh?'

· 'He looks like Eddie.'

· And he does. Like a Walmart version of Eddie though. He didn't laugh like Eddie, didn't have the same laugh lines. Or frown lines. His eyes weren't as warm when he met Buck's nor did he smile as fondly. And...

· 'Fuck.'

· 'You just now realizing your feelings for him?'

· 'Yeah. How did I not know?'

· 'Honestly, it was probably such a subtle shift. From what you've told me you've basically been a couple for a year and a half, so you didn't realize anything had changed for you.'

· 'I've never denied it.'

· 'I mean you clearly must have.'

· 'No. I meant that there have been so many times people assumed Eddie and I were a couple and I never denied it, I went along with it all.'

· 'Shit man, you had it bad before you even realized.'

· Buck groans as TK throws an arm around him, leaning against his shoulder.

· Things change after that. Buck is hesitant with physical touch with Eddie - it's his main love language and he needs to make sure he's not overdoing it and making Eddie uncomfortable.

· Eddie notices because of course, he does. Buck has pulled away from him for seemingly no reason. The second Eddie can dress, shower, and reach the high cabinets himself Buck is talking about going home.

· He is home.

· Eddie doesn't say it, he just hums, not really agreeing. He's gotten used to Buck being around and so has Chris. They'd easily fallen back into their quarantine routine and now Buck would be leaving again.

· A quick thought of getting shot again fills Eddie's head. Though this time it's nothing to do with his PTSD and more so that he doesn't want Buck to leave. So he exaggerates just a little.

· 'You know, my PTSD is still acting up. Maybe, you could stay until it balances out a little?'

· 'You'd want me to?'

· 'Yeah, you're great at getting me out and calming me and Christopher down.'

· 'You don't think Ana should start taking up some night shifts?'

· 'I don't really want her to deal with that side of me yet.'

· 'Okay.'

· 'Okay?'

· 'Yeah, I'll stay.'

· Eddie keeps an eye on Buck just as much as he keeps an eye on Eddie. He quickly realizes that Buck is holding in his own troubles. He knows from experience that Buck does not think his problems are anywhere near as bad as everyone else's. He has a lot of unlearning to do.

· Subtly, Eddie starts talking to him about his mental state, his worries, trying to let Buck know it's ok to do the same.

· When he and Ana inevitably break up not even a month later, it's Buck that he tells first.

· Buck, who has his back.

· Buck, who loves Christopher as his own.

· Buck, who is insecure about everything he does except saving people.

· Buck, who thinks he is unworthy and undeserving of love.

· Buck, who shows his love through acts of kindness and physical affection.

· Buck, who Eddie is so unapologetically in love with and probably has been for years.

· The revelation doesn't shock him like he thought it would. More so, it was a natural progression of their relationship.

· Friends. Best friends. Co-parents. Co-habiting. Partners. Partners.

· Eddie sees a future with Buck, a future he'd only ever seen with Shannon but it's so much brighter.

· He comes home from his first shift back - Buck wasn't working and offered to look after Christopher so Eddie knew he was safe - to find Buck on the couch, staring into an empty beer bottle.

· 'Hey?' it's broken and Eddie drops his things to rush over to him.

· 'You good?'

· 'No. I'm not.'

· Buck looks up, tears in his eyes, cheeks red and puffy.

· 'What's going on, Evan?'

· That's all it takes. He breaks. He babbles about watching Eddie die over and over in his dreams. How sometimes the shower will splash his face just so and he's thrown back with Eddie's blood on his face. How he was trying to get through it with Dr. Copeland but it wasn't helping.

· Nothing was helping.

· 'It's ok. I'm here, I'm okay.'

· 'You weren't. You died, Eds. You died on me.'

· 'You saved me.'

· 'What if I hadn't? I don't know a life without you anymore. I can't lose another person I love.'

· 'You love me?'

· 'Of course I do. Why wouldn't I?'

· Buck registers his words, quickly backing away from Eddie and tries to make a break for the open door. Eddie isn't letting him run away anymore. His wrist snakes around Buck's.

· 'Evan. I told you there wasn't anyone else I'd want to look after Christ. I told you you weren't expendable. I said that because I love you and you needed to hear it. You had to learn you deserved love. Love that Chris shows you. Love that I can show you. I love you so much, Evan Buckley.'

· Buck crumples in Eddie's arms, Eddie rocks him gently until the sobs subside.

· It's not an immediate or obvious change. There are still things the two need to work through.

· It's different but the same. There's more contact now; hugs, tactile hands on waists, and backs at work. Kisses in the bunk, soft and slow.

· It's new and exciting. Especially when they finally get together, officially and exclusively.

· Chris loves telling everyone about his two dads.

· Eddie and Buck are happier, closer.

· Buck had always been a Diaz. He'd always had a family who loved him. The big change was he got to love them both endlessly in return.

#buddie #911 #911 headcanons #buddie headcanons #evan buck buckely #911 fox #firefam #buckley diaz family #buddie fic #buddie drabble #christopher diaz #edmundo diaz #eddie diaz #eddie x buck #christopher diaz is an absolute angel #slow burn #oblivious idiots #oblivious buddie

130 notes · View notes

vivianweasley · 4 years ago

Text

Winking and Rolling Eyes (Fred Weasley X Reader)

Summary: You and the Weasley twins are best friends but you and Fred just couldn’t stop bickering. It’s all fun and games until you see him flirting with other girls. Why can’t he just stop being so mean to you and maybe finally see you as a potential girlfriend? Friends to lover

Pairing: Fred Weasley X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fred being mean? a little bit of angst, blood (Umbridge’s quill), mention of food

Word count: 3.5k

A/N: For some reasons, I always pictured Fred to be the kind of guy who would be mean to the girl he likes just to get her attention lol. Tell me what you guys think about this!

Please do NOT repost my work or translate it on another site without permission! Thank you! Reblogs and comments are always welcome:)

1995

Your head was always filled with weird random questions. For example right now, you were sitting in the Great Hall contemplating over why do some people tease and taunt the person they love, instead of actually showing their affection like a normal human being. What’s the reason behind this kind of action? And more importantly, why are you guilty of this too?

But what made you more confused was, when exactly did Fred and George become so bloody popular??

They were walking pass a group of Gryffindor girls now. The girls were blushing and some were even fixing their hair. “Hi Fred! Hi George!”

“Hi girls!” George replied with a cheeky grin and Fred even winked at them.

You couldn’t help but rolled your eyes. You and the Weasley twins were best friends since the first year, but this year they became so popular, attracting many girls’ attention. You weren’t surprised. They were great beaters and their pranks were epic. Not to mention how bloody attractive they were. Of course they were going to attract people’s attention. Unlike you, who were just an ordinary girl, sitting in the corner and always daydreaming.

“What are you thinking about?” George’s voice pulled you back to reality.

“Y/N you know, if you keep rolling your eyes like that, one day they might never roll back.” Fred opened his eyes wide, looking like he was trying to scare a kid with a ghost story.

Yet you rolled your eyes again, “if you keep winking, one day your eyelids might fall off.”

“Y/N that doesn’t make any sense.”

“Like you ever made any sense!”

“We’re going to Hogsmeade. Do you wanna come?” George broke off your childish bickering.

“Sure!” You just ran out of chocolate so it was a perfect chance for you to go to Honeydukes and restock.

“Ugh I don’t wanna go with this woman. She rolls her eyes way too much.”

“Just shut up!”

You have no idea what Honeydukes was thinking. Why would they put their products on such a high shelf. Apparently, the girl next to you were having the same concerns. She was standing on tip-toe, struggling to reach high, but she failed to even touch that bag of sugar quills.

But someone next to her reached out and grabbed that bag of sugar quills for her.

“Your sugar quill.” Fred bent over a little and handed that girl her sugar quills in a really dramatic way.

That girl was blushing now, “Thanks!”

“Oi Fred, while you’re at it, I want one too.” you asked. It should be easy, since he was still standing beside it.

“Help yourself, shorty.” But he smiled at you mischievously and just walked away.

Watching him disappearing in the crowd, you rolled your eyes and reached for your wand, “Accio!”

And things like that kept on happening.

Fred and George were banned from partnering in potion class, since students’ cauldrons tend to explode mysteriously whenever the twins were partners. You and Fred were also banned from partnering, because your cauldron also tend to explode whenever the two of you were partners.

So today, Fred was partnering with a Hufflepuff girl in potion class and you were sitting behind them. You swore to Merlin that Fred was flirting with that girl the entire class period.

That you endured, but what really got on your nerves was when you heard him saying, “Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on the fire, or else the cauldron will explode just like Y/N’s.”

You felt like all the blood in your body has suddenly rushed into your head due to anger. Last time when you asked him to keep an eye on the fire so you could read the instructions, he replied, “Can’t you do it yourself?” You got mad at him and didn’t pay attention when the fire was growing tall, causing your cauldron to explode.

Now you felt like your temper has exploded, and unfortunately, your cauldron exploded with it.

“Miss (Y/L/N), does your cauldron have a problem or do you have a problem?” you heard Snape’s cold monotone.

“I’m sorry professor.”

You glared at Fred. He was trying so hard to hold back his laughter that his face was flushed. You looked at him and you looked at your now messy table, you couldn’t help but rolled your eyes. Merlin, maybe he was right. Maybe you did roll your eyes way too often.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Then strange things started to happen. Many girls started to wave at you too. And you soon realized the reason behind this.

One day, a Ravenclaw girl came to you. It looked like she was hesitant but she still managed to get the question out, “Are you...are you Fred or George’s girlfriend?

“What? No!” You were just confused. Why would she assume that? Has she seen how Fred treated you? Who would treat their girlfriend like that?

“Great!” She let out a sigh of relief and then handed you a small box, “Could you please give this to Fred for me? Thanks!”

“Sure?” She ran away after you took the box, leaving you there with your feet glued to the floor and having no idea how to feel about this.

Curiosity was urging you to open that box and see what’s inside, but your conscience stopped you. Judging by her blush and the pink wrapping, it was probably a love letter or chocolate or something of that sort.

You didn’t know why, but you suddenly didn’t want to help her anymore. A part of you even urged you to throw the box away, but at the end you still delivered the box to Fred.

“Blimey Y/N, didn’t know you fancy me!” He took the box and gasped dramatically.

“No idiot, this is from another girl.” You slapped him on his arm, “I sort of just became her wing-woman.”

“Aww Y/N, don’t feel discouraged. If you ever need a wingman, George can help you with that!”

“What about you?”

He opened his mouth but no words came out yet. You were sure that he was probably going to tease you again, but you just didn’t have the energy to do this with him today. So before he could say anything, you spoke first, “Never mind, George is probably more reliable anyways.” And you left.

“Where are you going?” You heard him yelling from behind.

“My bed! It’s tired being a wing-woman.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Then life went back to normal. You would still hangout with the twins and help them with new prank ideas. You and Fred were still constantly bickering whenever you two have the chance. It was just that more and more girls came to you asking for help to deliver gifts to the twins. Even a Beauxbatons girl came to you once. Guess everyone was just trying to find a perfect date for the upcoming dance.

After deciding to stay as far away as possible from Fred during potion class, you actually became friends with a Gryffindor boy. His name was Finley Laurent. He was tall and you could always see a smirk on his lips. He was also really funny and you two hit it off right away.

You two went from studying in the library together, to going on Hogsmeade dates. Before the Yule ball, he asked you to be his date and you agreed to it happily.

The Yule ball soon arrived. You did your makeup and hair and you put on the dress your mother sent you. You were so excited about this, in fact you even went downstairs early to wait for your date.

But instead of Finley, you ran into the twins first.

“Blimey Y/N, I should’ve asked you to the dance! Didn’t know you could look this...tolerable!” Fred exclaimed teasingly.

You rolled your eyes, “Thank you for your ‘kind compliment’, but I already have a date!”

“Y/N! Are you coming with us?” You heard Angelina’s voice.

“No, Y/N already has a date. She doesn’t want to hangout with us anymore.” Fred said bitterly, didn’t give you the chance to talk, “Let’s go!”

The twins walked away with Angelina and Lee was waiting for them at the entrance. You realized that they were going as a group. You were suddenly regretting your choice now. It would be so fun going with them.

Wait, what were you thinking? Did you want to hear Fred making fun of your dress or the way you dance for the entire night? You were sure that going with Finley would be just as fun.

You waited at the entrance for at least twenty minutes. It looked like everyone who was attending the ball has already entered the ball room. You finally decided to walk into the ball room alone. Did Finley bail on you? Was he sick? You had to admit that you were slightly annoyed but you were still worried about him.

But as soon as you saw the truth, you’d rather know that he was sick.

He was dancing with another girl. They were dancing and laughing together and the picture looked so great. So great that it suddenly seemed like you were the one who’s barging in now.

You could feel all of the blood in your body boiling as you walked over to him. “Care to explain?” You asked as politely as you could.

“Y/N...” He was surprised to see you suddenly appearing in front of him, but the words he was about to say sounded pretty well-prepared, “I’m sorry, Y/N. This is my girlfriend. We were in a fight before, but we got back together right before the Yule ball. I didn’t know things would turn out this way...”

“So am I just a backup plan?” Your brain still wasn’t fully able to process the situation right now that you felt almost like a bystander. You didn’t know what to think and you didn’t know what to do.

It was clear that he didn’t know how to face this situation either. Even the girl next to him was feeling ashamed of him. She just lowered her head and didn’t look at any of you.

“Oh baby you are here!” Suddenly, you heard a familiar voice. You turned your head stiffly to look at the source of the voice. Tall, redheaded, freckles, deep brown eyes. Your brain slowly began to piece together the name of this person, Fred Weasley.

He held your hand and he looked like he was sorry, in his own dramatic way. “Baby, I’m so sorry! It’s all my fault! I should’ve never argued with you! Will you please forgive me?”

You squinted your eyes and stared at Fred all confused.

He squeezed your hand lightly, hinting you to just follow his lead.

“What’s going on here?” Finley finally managed to say something.

Fred suddenly let go of your hand and his left hand snaked around your waist to pull you closer to him, “It’s my fault to even let you have the chance to invite my girlfriend to the dance, but mate, haven’t you realized yet?”

“Realized what?”

“No offense, but can’t you see that you’re just a less-handsome substitute for me?”

Now it was Finley’s turn to be so angry that he couldn’t speak anymore, but Fred was right about one thing. You finally realized why Finley felt familiar to you.

Maybe he was indeed a less-handsome version of Fred. They were both tall. They both have freckles. Merlin, even both of their names start with the letter “F”. But Finley’s smile was nothing compared to Fred’s. Fred’s smile was always so confident and cheerful. Even though you probably would never tell him, but his smile would always light up your day and make you feel just a little bit more hopeful on a bad day.

“Let’s go!” Fred grabbed your hand and you two ran away before Finley exploded.

You two eventually went to the Gryffindor common room because Fred had a bucket of ice cream hidden in his dorm. The sweetness of ice cream healed your wounded pride and calmed your temper.

“Thanks, for having my back today.”

“Merlin, Y/N! Didn’t know you knew the word ‘thanks’.”

You slapped him on his arm and he acted like he was suffering a mortal wound.

“It was nothing. Anything for my best mate!”

“Best mate my arse!”

You couldn’t sleep that night. What was keeping you awake wasn’t the wrong you’ve suffered tonight, but the sound of Fred calling you his girlfriend.

You knew he was just saying that to get on Finley’s nerves and you felt ridiculous that this scene was playing on repeat in your mind. You just couldn’t ignore the butterflies in your stomach and the warm fuzzy feeling rising up in your heart, spreading through your whole body.

It was terrible, but you found yourself becoming the girls that you would usually roll your eyes at. You were falling for Fred Weasley. Or you’ve already fell for him a long time ago, but you’ve only realized it today.

But what’s even worse was that you knew you would never have a chance with him. Merlin! Just think about how he treated you. He was always so mean to you and he was treating you like you were just one of his friends, not a potential girlfriend. You just felt hopeless.

So you’ve decided. You have to kill your feelings for him before it grows.

Or at least, before he found out.

1996

Under Umbridge’s control, everyone’s life was just miserable. Especially the twins who were natural trouble makers. You have tried to persuade them to lay low during a time like this, but they thought a time like this was exactly when people needed their products and laughters in their lives.

You joined Dumbledore’s Army with Fred and George. In Dumbledore’s Army, you met Ernest Macmillan, a Hufflepuff boy. He was a nice guy and you two became friends immediately. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and a soft personality, nothing like Fred Weasley. Great, you thought that was a good sign.

Fred was still the same. He would still tease you when he saw you hanging out with Ernie.

“Y/N, what are you trying to do to that poor boy!” or “Ernie, you gotta be careful. This woman’s cauldron would always explode mysteriously. Maybe one day you will explode too!”

You would always roll your eyes at him when you heard him saying something like that. You were both graduating this year. How could he still be this immature?

Unfortunately, Umbridge still found out about Dumbledore’s Army and everyone in the army suffered from that torturing quill.

After finally leaving her office, you sat on the bench in the hallway. You stared at your bloodied hand that read “I must not disobey”, tears started to well up in your eyes.

Ernie was sitting next to you, “Are you alright?”

You saw the same scar on his hand and you just couldn’t hold your tears anymore. You started crying. When will days like this finally end?

He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and held up your wounded hand. He tried to alleviate your pain by gently blowing air on it. “The pain will stop in a minute. I promise you.”

You closed your eyes and rested your head on Ernie’s shoulder without realizing that not far from here, Fred was staring at your direction.

So you didn’t need him right now. That’s perfectly fine, he thought. He just turned around and left, with his right hand covering up his wounded left hand. But what if he needed you?

A few days later before curfew, Fred came to you and brought you to a deserted hallway. You were still wondering what he was trying to do, but he waved his wand and a few fireflies appeared and started flying around you.

The light in the hallway was dim, but the fireflies were lighting up your face. It felt like the stars have suddenly came down from the starry night sky to dance around you. It was cliche to say, but you felt like you were in a fairy tale.

“When did you learn to do this? It’s brilliant!” It was rare that you wanted to compliment him without making fun of him first.

“Y/N, I fancy you.”

Your heart probably skipped a beat, maybe more than one beat. Was this what you were always dreaming of?

But your smile soon froze on your face. He’s Fred Weasley for Merlin’s sake! The guy who was probably joking about 80% of everything he ever said.

So was this just another prank? You were pretty sure you saw him flirting with another girl yesterday and how can you forget the way he always treated you! You thought the answer was pretty clear.

“Hahaha,” you laughed sarcastically, “Very funny Fred, but I’m not that stupid. I know you too well.”

“What?” He was still trying to pretend like he was confused.

“I bet George is hiding somewhere now, waiting to see my reaction. Where is he?” You walked pass Fred and began to search for George.

But you heard him said, “So am I only a joke to you?”

“What?” Now you were confused.

“Never mind, just forget I said anything tonight.” And he just walked away.

Not long after Fred’s gone, George showed up just as you expected. But he looked so disappointed with his brows furrowed.

The air between you two were making you panic, but you still managed to sound indifferent, “What’s wrong with Fred? So his prank didn’t work. What’s the big deal?”

“Y/N, he wasn’t joking.”

“So you are also part of this prank? Please, I saw him flirting with some other girl yesterday. I’m not that stupid.”

“He only did that because you were around. He just thought that you look cute when you are mad at him. It’s childish I know. I told him that you might misunderstand it, but you know him, he’s just like that. The more he likes you, the more he’s gonna make fun of you.” George sounded so serious, “You should know. You two are just the same.”

“I...” you were speechless, George’s words blew up in your mind like someone has casted reducto there.

“Don’t try to deny it. You are too obvious. You are both too obvious.” George continued, “I don’t know why he’s only telling you this now. Maybe because he panicked after seeing you with Ernie. Maybe because we are going to leave Hogwarts soon.”

“What?? What do you mean by you are leaving Hogwarts???” You couldn’t keep your cool anymore. You were all already graduating this year. What were they thinking?

“Fred was going to tell you tonight. We both thought our future lay outside the world of academic achievement. And now with Umbridge in charge, we just can’t stay here anymore. Not even for a few months.”

You immediately grabbed him by his arm and pulled him to run towards the Gryffindor common room. You still couldn’t quite process what was going on. Your head was a mess and your heart was beating like crazy, but there was only one thing you were clear about.

“Where are you going!”

“I need to find him!”

You two managed to get into the Gryffindor common room before curfew. Fred was standing there, looking surprised that you showed up with George.

You weren’t someone who liked to share too much about your private life, but you just couldn’t see anyone else in the room anymore now. There was only one person in your eyes and one person on your mind. You walked straight to Fred and just blurted out, “I fancy you!”

“What?”

You rolled your eyes. And now he’s playing dumb? You grabbed his collar and pulled him down, smashing your lips together. Everyone in the common room was cheering now.

You finally let go of him and he grinned, “Are you trying to prank me?”

“Sure, if you say so.”

“Alright,” he smirked, “I dare you to prank me everyday.”

“Challenge accepted.” You smiled, as he pulled you into another breathless kiss.

2000

“FRED WEASLEY!” You knew shouting wasn’t right, the entire Diagon Alley probably heard you now. But your brain went blank when you saw the empty cake box.

You spent the entire afternoon yesterday trying to bake a cake for Molly’s birthday today, but the cake disappeared now. There was only an empty cake box with some cake crumbs left, telling you that the cake wasn’t just a product of your imagination. You knew George would probably ask you about it when he saw a random cake. But Fred’s different, so you could easily pinpoint the suspect now.

You didn’t have the time to bake another cake. You were leaving in five minutes and you’ve already changed into your dress.

“What happened!” Fred walked out of the room, still fixing his tie and looking all innocent.

You waved the empty cake box at him.

“Oh...” he laughed awkwardly, possibly trying to act all cute to make you forgive him.

“FRED WEASLEY, what is you problem!”

“Merlin, we are gonna be so late!” He grabbed your hand and apparated you two into the Burrows before you could say anything else.

“Oh dear, you two are here!” Molly jumped when you two suddenly appeared, but she was also very happy to see you. “Y/N dear, what’s that in your hand?” She pointed at the empty cake box that was still in your hand.

“Oh...I baked you a cake yesterday for your birthday, but Fred ate it all.”

Fred grinned at Molly, “But I can assure you that the cake was delicious! This woman’s cauldron may explode, but her cake was brilliant!”

You couldn’t help but rolled your eyes.

He pulled you closer by your waist and winked at you, “Love, if you keep rolling your eyes this often, maybe one day they might never roll back.”

“If you keep winking this often, maybe one day your eyelids might fall off.”

Join my tag list!

#fred weasley #weasley twins #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fluff #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #harry potter imagine #fred weasley imagines

952 notes · View notes

jiminrings · 4 years ago

Text

would you (III)

pairing: jimin x y/n

wordcount: 6k

And when you look at him with the same hint of bleariness in your eyes, and his shoulder feels the brunt of your tentative squeeze and sees the lightest of smiles on your lips —

Jimin knows everything that he needs to know.

or the one in which love isn’t one-sided anymore, jimin realizes his feelings, and yearning for you is what keeps him awake.

would you by pink sweats

part one | part two | part three

Both oddly yet unsurprisingly, Jungkook’s become a constant in your life.

For starters, both of you were lonely and needed someone, even if it’s by the sidelines. The equivalent of white noise and an extra pillow to put by your side so you’d feel surrounded.

Funnily enough, Jungkook’s as good as a mainstay in your life as you are with him, providing company and warmth with no question. It’s as if he’s always been your friend and you never met each other in such desperate measures.

Given that, sure, maybe you and Jungkook don’t fuck each other as often and it’s only occasional now at this point, but the conversation stays and lasts. It’s the routine of him pounding into you as he talks shit about the pressure he feels fron rival companies that aren’t even worth his time, and you talking about how thankful you are that he’s accepted you into his company and that you can’t be any more pumped to start.

That’s his cue to (very nicely) threaten you to shutting up if you still want to cum, and him talking in between broken grunts that you’ve earned the job both for your credentials and skills and of course the potential — not some dumb luck of having him as the CEO of the very company you’re chasing after, being friends with benefits with to the title of best friend.

To put it simply, Jungkook’s your platonic boyfriend of some sort. The both of you are dead sure that you don’t like each other in that way, and that soon enough, the two of you swear to flush out the libido so you’d stop hooking up.

It doesn’t necessarily mean that he’d stop cracking “that’s what you said” jokes and you teasing him about his whining.

The two of you are so compatible that it makes you forget about your dynamics with Jimin and how you’re even more compatible with him. His name’s only thrown around carelessly for good measure and not for drunk half-sobs from yourself.

It’s why Jungkook’s forcibly sat down on your floor as he eats his chicken wings, banned from the couch because you swear on his life that he’d regret his whole existence once he stains it. He has absolutely no choice but to pout and sit on your rug you haven’t vacuumed in awhile when he could easily buy you a new and better one if he does stain it.

You’re too engrossed over a movie because you don’t want to listen to Jungkook and his surprisingly strong moral compass, him already knowing that you’re deflecting this altogether so you could attempt to avoid the inevitable.

“Ignoring Jimin doesn’t mean you’ve moved on from him — do you know that?”

More than he’d likely admit, maybe Jungkook does have a taste for the emotions and the dramatics. He’s always been more in tune with it, but it had no place in the real world. Instead he gets his fill and spends almost all of it with the people he’s comfortable with — his family and a select amount of friends.

You’re the closest thing in real life he could ever relate to a reality show (although you always deny that your life is as eventful as it is), and Seokjin’s running to replace you in your spot because he always seem to get him even though they bicker the most, always smiling with his hyung because maybe, just maybe, Jungkook likes being taken care of.

Of course he’s observant. He wants to know you emotionally because knowing you physically so well doesn’t exactly coincide with the fact that you’re moving away from that phase in your relationship per se. He should absolutely know what’s with you furrowing your brows outside of the bedroom, know what’s tinkering with his best friend’s mind and not only relate it to when he hits your sweet spot from down under.

As soft as he sounds in contrast to his obvious demeanor from being in such a place of authority and growing up with everyone’s eyes on him, Jungkook’s grown to take care of you. It’s massive growth in his part for the past month because he learned that maybe he shouldn’t really take all of his life alone. Maybe he needs someone.

He’s not rushing for marriage and to be honest, if only the two of you weren’t platonic and you weren’t the farthest thing from being in his likes in that way, that would be the only time he’d look at you beyond as a friend. Companionship doesn’t need to equate to romantic relationships and that’s perhaps one of the many things he’d been lacking.

You like Jungkook as an addition to your life. You’re no stranger to strikingly-handsome best friends — Taehyung and Seokjin and of course Jimin are the living proof, but only the last part is who you’re unsure of.

And maybe yes, maybe Jungkook’s right. Maybe you can’t always avoid Jimin forever but you know that but you’d die on that hill because you can’t see yourself caving soon. Missing him yet not wanting to see him are the things you juggle with.

“Either side with me or you can get out of my apartment.”

He sputters when you slap his hand away and take his portion for yourself and audibly complains of how come you can sit on your couch and he can’t, forgetting that it’s your apartment and your couch that he’s talking about.

You’re also forgetting that he’s your boss, your superior, and your CEO. Although it becomes official by Monday, you come to your sense and sheepishly hand him half of it back.

You’ve quit the bartender gig but that doesn’t stop you from dropping in to work sometimes. Because maybe Jaehyun misses you a little that he pretends not to see when you sneak in a drink or two free of charge, and Seokjin misses you and his pride nowadays doesn’t deny him from saying that he misses you.

Jungkook kinda panics at that because not only does he not want to go home to his massive penthouse by himself where he can eat all that he wants on his couch, but he also needs the company and watching a crappy movie with you would give him a good night’s sleep.

“Look, look! All I’m saying is, from dude to dude or whatever, is that anyone could see how much he misses you.”

It’s your turn to slightly panic and you don’t know what to take from that, visibly caught in a daze as Jungkook takes the sweet time to slither from the floor to the couch.

He’d know that actually, because two weeks ago when he came over after a long tiring day and he just wants to be buried in you, Jimin just happens to aiming for you door too.

Jimin was second-guessing the whole day whether he should come over to your apartment unannounced and how you’d take it, but once the urge to visit overpowers, he certainly didn’t expect this guy.

He didn’t come empty-handed and there’s an outrageously tiny boquet he’s sure that you’d like because you found them obscene and adorable right inside his backpack. He doesn’t have the slightest clue inside his mind why you haven’t been yourself lately, or maybe it’s just because he refuses to believe it as it is.

Jimin’s cocky at first and that’s what Jungkook can clearly see, not resisting the amused scoff leaving him at the aura this other dude gives off.

“You two fucking?”

Jungkook laughs at that, both because he’s taken in surprise and also because it’s the clear answer.

“You wanna know?”

Actually, he’s starting to realize that maybe fucking you isn’t the only thing he’d like to do. You honestly seem pretty cool for a person, and he wants to befriend you! You’re level-headed as far as he knows, and the argument that’s flowing in his head is clearly different from the one in Jimin’s.

The older boy’s visibly frustrated, pinching his nosebridge as he tries to be civil.

“Look, I don’t know-...”

To put it simply, Jungkook has the knack of messing with people from time to time. Now may not exactly be the best time for it but he still takes the opportunity, ignoring the way Jimin’s gaze at him burns him down enough.

“I’m down for almost everything. Though I’d have to ask if Y/N’s game for a threesome or-“

“God, no! I-...”

Jimin resists the urge to bite back a snarky remark, opting to crack his knuckles using the same hands as he wants to be as level-headed with this as much as possible.

Namjoon coming out of his own apartment would be very convenient right now to diffuse the tension even if he’d feel it himself, yet your blue-haired neighbor doesn’t come out any time soon and neither will any of them back down.

He’s still a reasonable distance away from Jungkook who’s still standing in from your door, staying there because this whole scenario intrigues him that he figures that his desperations could wait a few more minute.

“Has she been eating properly? Sleeping? Still working?”

That’s a surprise.

Jungkook’s pleasantly taken aback with Jimin’s sentiments when it comes to you, a gentle smile on his face that maybe he’s not as bad as he thought of him.

Granted that yeah, he’s not the one who harbors unrequited love for him unlike you, but from what he can observe does he think that sometime along the way — of you going out of your way to get out of Jimin’s, is his change of heart

“Mhmm. I think. I don’t exactly live here.”

That’s all the silent reassurance he needs that you and him aren’t a thing, the relief in his heart unexplainable because the last time he checked, friends aren’t supposed to be this relieved for the other’s lack of a partner. It’s almost as if Jimin wished and prayed that Jungkook wasn’t your boyfriend.

“Cool.”

“Nice.”

He has his hands on his pockets as he twitches where he stands, Jungkook’s eyebrows raised because he knows all too well when someone’s hesitant to leave.

Jimin thinks it’s for the better if he retreats for now even if it pains him, planning to come back another day in better circumstances. Pondering about it, maybe this is a good thing. Keep his thoughts organized and his mind running, then try not to think about what’s probably going to happen as soon as Jungkook enters your door.

“Bye, Jungkook.”

This whole encounter truly cracks him up, finding it amusing as he leans against your door just to prof further.

“Searching me up? Dropped by the company? Don’t tell me you bought the latest magazine with my face on it.”

Jimin scoffs and he could tell that the both of them have atleast loosened up to each other and he doesn’t feel the urge to throw him down the floor like what he learned. But scoffing doesn’t take him away from the fact that yeah, okay, maybe he did exactly what Jungkook implied.

“Not like I wanted to spend my money on an overpriced issue. ‘Course I need to look out for Y/N.”

He pleasantly hums as he brings out his phone, about to text you to suddenly open your door right now with no questions asked. “That’s not your job.”

“And it’s yours?”

He shrugs at the condescending tone Jimin gives him, taking note to tell you about this interaction sooner than later.

“Never said it was mine.”

Jungkook backspaces his text until it’s blank, wanting to type a new one yet he stops in his tracks just to listen.

“Well then good. Because it’s mine.”

Jimin sounds so sure despite the ruffling his backpack gives when he readjusts it on his shoulder, swiping underneath his eye that he’s done out of habit and effectively taking out the last bit of eyeliner since he went here straight from a shoot.

You never actually said it was his, but he feels this obligation; this pull.

It’s a commitment he’s given himself, suddenly whispering to himself when all he’s done in the past minutes was to be accusatory with his sharp voice.

“It’s always been mine.”

bar this weekend? it’s also jin’s birthday soon and i’ve got some free shirts from this shoot that’s his size

we can put both our names on the card, i won’t tell :D

then split a sundae and some brownies, my treat!!

i’ll crash at ur place tho i still have a sweater or two left there

Jimin sighs to himself, making the makeup artist for a second that she’s the reason why he’s so huffy and the dabbing of the sponge to his cheeks don’t do anything to make the situation better.

He’s sighing, not because he’s run out of pride. Not because he used to find double-texting an ultra desperate move. Not because he now doesn’t spend a second longer thinking to send a message. No. He’s sighing because he feels that you’re so out of his grasp.

He can’t do anything about it currently, now that he’s in a shoot the director had to beg him to be in because in the past week, all that Jimin’s done is deny one offer after the other.

Normally he’d feel ecstatic that he’s becoming even more in-demand, but in truth, none of that matters when you’re the only one he’d be eager to have a meeting with. He’d take you over a designer shoot anytime without skipping a heartbeat, even if that means Yoongi, his agent, lose his shit over before curling up into a ball.

He’s booked yet he lets the chances slip from his fingers. Nothing could be any more important than you.

He’s hanging on by an insistent line of desperation actually, taking the time to skim through his phone’s camera roll and his Instagram archives to look for you, put you on his story, and leave people wondering.

If he was lucky enough then you’d add it to yours, and if he wasn’t then he’d be faced with nothing and a hundred other reactions that didn’t come from you, a full day left to soak in the pain that he doesn’t have your undivided attention.

Jimin knows that this was wrong -- knows that it’s selfish of him and his approach isn’t always the best, but he’s piss-poor clueless. His moral compass is clouded and just by you distancing yourself away from him is enough to drive him over the edge.

He’s so lost in you consuming his thoughts that sometimes he gets lucky, the frustration of trying to get where he went wrong and you went cold sets a distant and steely look on his face and it’s exactly what the photographer needed for the shoot.

You only feel half-sorry when your phone dings with multiple texts again from Jimin in the middle of trying on work outfits for your first day, despite your cold resolve that you want to keep up; and additionally, despite Jungkook’s insistence that you should wear the grey pencil skirt because it would be the perfect last outfit the two of you get to fuck each other in, and apparently, it should be in his office.

He’s unbearable, but he’s not half-bad you suppose.

It takes one beat, two beats before you will yourself to type out a reply, a little hitch in your breath and you’re not entirely sure if it’s just misplaced nervousness or because your high-waisted pencil skirt is literally too constricting and pencil-y for its own kind.

wish i could :(( would go to the bar at the weekend but i already promised another friend and he’s planned it weeks before

You already know that it’d be impossible and Jimin will most likely turn down the invitation altogether, even if what you said this time is entirely true.

Taehyung’s finally finished his studies abroad and he’s coming home at last, having already set up living arrangements and even interior designs months before he even got a ticket back home. One of the many plans he’s made was the both of you to go back to Jaehyun’s bar that was the witness to every miniscule thing (whether to celebrate or destress) back in college. And of course, since Tae exists that he has to be treated like royalty after having studied oh so long abroad, you’d have to treat and indulge him of course!

Those went along the lines of him saying he wanted to go to the aquarium, and then him pretending he didn’t plant that idea in your head, then breaking character for a brief second to tell you that you should surprise him with the tickets.

great! he can tag along with us then

Jimin replies as soon as he got ahold of his phone the moment yet-another mundane shoot ended, not even an hour from when you last sent in your text that has him breathing sharply.

It’s not a mistake with how he worded it, because after all, nobody could be anymore compatible with you, right? Jimin sometimes feels like he knows you more than he knows himself, and he could only assume that you think the same.

He’s not exactly pleased and he wouldn’t say that he’s a little hurt knowing it just wouldn’t be the two of you together nor you cancelling said plans with this other guy he’s highly suspicious of, even more suspicious than he could get with free shipping on a non-holiday.

Whatever it is you subject him to, it’s okay.

It’s okay.

Jimin would take whatever he can get.

“Promise me you’d behave.”

It’s an empty warning that goes through Taehyung, still grinning as he completely disregards what you’ve just said and leans to squeeze in your face once again.

He’s missed you — he truly did! Random things would remind him of you all throughout his time abroad, and the way he brought home souvenirs and goodies for you is all-telling. Well for one, he did bring home a plastic bag to you that he claims is filled with the air of where he stayed, but you’re still doubting if he’s just blown to it with his own breath. There’s the license plates and the mugs, and the more endearing ones were blankets and custom shirts he’s managed to snag for you.

The familiarity home brings gets him drunk and unsurprisingly, he’s already managed to befriend Jin despite knowing each other for less than an hour.

Tae just had to compliment Jin on his earrings, and he just had to squeal in delight because apparently you were too slow to notice them.

The two of you were already here in the bar an hour early before what Jimin said, and you decided on that with the reasoning that maybe you needed to be a little bit more intoxicated upon meeting him again after quite some time.

“It’s not like I bite. You told me we were similar or something like that.”

Taehyung finds it nice that you did get a best friend while he was away, because he’s the same with Hoseok who he’s also met and they just automatically clicked that they were roommates in the next week. He’s keen on you branching out, but he’s not exactly sure what to feel that he just had to be a little similar to this friend of yours.

He’s still your original, first, best close friend that no one can take the throne of.

“That is my point, Tae. The two of you are competitive over things and you haven’t even met each other yet.”

He hums at that, once again ignoring what you’ve just said as he pokes and pokes on your cheek.

Maybe it’s your bad luck, but you just have this pattern of having really handsome guys and only have them turn out as friends because neither have the feelings, and maybe you’ve also been so affection-starved that you think Taehyung poking your cheeks is domestic.

“Hmmm,” he hums indifferently, this time in a tune and even runs his thumb on your cheek incessantly, “what moisturizer do you use?”

It’s your turn to ignore him this time, having to physically shake Taehyung by the shoulder so he’d get to focus and won’t be in a trance with your moisturized cheeks that he likes attacking.

“Need to tell you some things,” his attention’s piqued yet he doesn’t jump into conclusions, his shoulder a very warm crevice that you surely missed which is why you’re immediately burying yourself into, not wanting to look him in the eye.

“I know there’s a lot of things.”

What Taehyung didn’t tell you is that he had some people then and there to after you, from some friends and to some family he sent every once in awhile and he simply couldn’t believe that you thought they were all coincidences and you just happened to bump to his mother in the grocery even if she lived in the next city.

“Tell me the most important ones in a single sentence. I’ll ask and we can catch up with everything later.”

He has a hunch on what said things could be but he doesn’t say a word, not sure if he already wants to precede wanting to know if you really do prefer cheese popcorn over butter and what would his reaction be if you-

“I just wanna tell you that Jisoo’s in town, I’m in love — used to, I think — with Jimin, and the two of them are together.”

Oh.

Taehyung stares off into the distance, his gaze into nothingness unrelenting are you’re actually nervous if you’ve broken him already.

Five beats, six beats, and Tae blinks. He’s finished trying to tie all the ends of your statement altogether and surprisingly, made peace with what he says a few seconds later.

“Doesn’t matter. Moved on long ago.”

Taehyung smiles but the rigidness of it isn’t his facial structure, but rather the slightest of pain behind it, an unexplainable glaze on his eyes that he blinks soon enough.

“W-well me too! I moved on too!”

His sudden confession, if it was even the truth in the first place, suddenly makes you do the same that it reminds him of an eager puppy he’s always wanted to get.

He snorts at that but doesn’t question the validity of what you’ve just said. Taehyung’s always known that you’re a bit fragile and he lets it pass — you atleast need something sembling control over your life.

“To let you know, I even sleep with-...”

“Oh my god, Y/N-...”

You’ve grown but you never really strayed, always wanting to prove something that you didn’t care about obviously giving too much information and crossing boundaries.

He’s giving you noogies and you let him, the tipsy lull of the shots that Jaehyun gave you taking its course.

Jimin’s more nervous than excited to stroll into the place, hands in his pockets that effectively crease his pants but he doesn’t mind.

It doesn’t take another second longer to find you even with your back turned to him, quickly weaving in between the sea of people to get to you. He’s probably gotten a curse or two, but none of those matter.

“Hey!” Jimin patters as soon as he sees the back of your head, taking you into a massive bear hug from behind you widen your eyes on.

He’s unbelievably gotten warmer than before, and you would’ve lost yourself if he didn’t squeeze you in earnest and if Taehyung didn’t take a once-over of him.

“Hi,” it’s the only one you could muster, two pats on his arm that you’d only reserve as a silent sign for him to let go and he knows that, but doesn’t take notice.

Taehyung’s the one that breaks it, a cold stare on Jimin that he only returns as icy.

“Park Jimin. Y/N’s best friend.”

You have no time to purse your lips over that, because Tae raises his eyebrows at it as if he’s either challenged or surprised, but he offers his hand nonetheless, noticing how much bigger his hand his that he instinctively squeezes it a little tighter like how he’d do with you.

And if Jimin is hurt, he doesn’t show it.

“Kim Taehyung. Y/N’s best friend since high school.”

That one’s something Jimin didn’t expect, head tilting to analyze if this Kim guy is actually serious and if he was, then how come you never told him?

His jaw clenches for a second, a forced smile on his lips that he’s practiced for his career day and night.

Not that it matters.

Taehyung and Jimin engage in conversation by themselves, and you don’t pay attention enough to know that their “conversation” is just them trying to boast, the other to be condescending, and trying to one-up each other in their knowledge about you.

“Bet you don’t even know Y/N’s favorite fruit.”

“What, as a child or the one she likes now? Better yet, do you even know the fruits that she hates?”

“Hmm, you mean practically almost everything? Nice try. Bet you don’t know how in second semester, she-“

“Took a tutoring class with Min Yoongi? The other intelligent dude that she used to have as a sworn enemy? Christ, it’s not like you even try.”

Your attention span has long been faded, instead turning your focus to Seokjin who hasn’t moved from his spot for washing the glasses for five minutes because he’s eavesdropping at the conversation, and he is certainly entertained.

“Are we getting wasted for your birthday?”

Jin has to blink away the sleepiness from his eyes that has since been disappearing ever since he dropped in to listen to the bickering, promising to himself that he should be well-rested and not have three hours of sleep for the days that you’re gonna come over the bar and have two best friends fighting over for a title they’ve made up themselves.

“Might be. Although I’m not inviting any of those two that look like they’re gonna claw each other debating what’s your favorite drink.”

Jin feels like a breath of fresh air, and in another tipsy haze, if only he had feelings for you and vice versa, he’d totally be your boyfriend by now.

You admire him but not in that way.

He fascinates you because you’ve figured that Jin’s always been more than well-off from the start. No one in their right mind would come to work in Gucci mules and in a Rolex wristwatch for their bartending job.

He’s explained it to you a couple of months back. Just so happens that Seokjin’s actually a heir to his dad’s company, and he just got this job to humble himself. Perhaps he’s the one born with a silver spoon in his mouth and had too much control, that he’s taken it upon himself to put him down a couple of notches.

That explains to how Jin just takes whatever schedule he can get and doesn’t complain, or to how him and Jungkook have always seemed familiar with each other and had too much in common, contributing factors were that he was Jungkook’s senior in business school and that they were born in the same elite circle. Also to how Jin applied to Jaehyun, and the guy must have found it ridiculous considering they both have the same situations, and immediately hired him right away.

Jin’s just always been there in a way, from how he’d offer you atleast half of his salary when you’re in a tight spot, to talking it out with Jaehyun when you insisted on coming to work with half a mind and a handful of cramps.

“You’re the best.”

That came out of nowhere, and so did the sudden poking of your finger to Seokjin’s bread smile, but he takes it.

Meanwhile, that’s gotten Jimin’s attention.

He’s been on edge and having Taehyung, who oddly seems similar to him, is insulting that he wants to deck him with his rings.

He doesn’t like feeling second. Doesn’t like feeling second to something he knew he’d be the first at, and the concept of not being the first meaning that you’re last makes him frown.

The thoughts consuming his mind are just too noisy to let go, taking advantage when Tae’s by the bathroom and Jin’s flagged down by a customer.

“Y’close with Taehyung?”

Jimin whispers as if it’s too shameful to be said aloud, and he thinks that it is, but you only roll your eyes at him playfully and it gets him in a deeper frown because you were only taking this lightly.

“I have other friends too, y’know.”

Yeah, he’s forgotten about that. And if he pretends hard enough, he could be the only one.

There’s no time to dwell on it, not when he’s already drowned in it too deep. He wants nothing but to be selfish and it’s a thought so massive that his ego seemed superficial.

“Jimin, you need to know something.”

There’s a light tap on his forearm but he was already long alert before that, his eyes widening with how you’re looking at him.

You’re looking at him like you used to and for some reason, he’s excited. He’s jittery and nervous at the same time, and he doesn’t know what for, but he wants you to say it.

“Y-yeah? What is it?”

His mind flashes back to when you confessed to him when you were drunk, and he thinks you’ve forgotten it. He’s forgotten about it too, actually. But the situation was so similar again but this time he wasn’t cowering from it nor laughing at your face.

This time he’s the one who’s nervous and hopeful, the tips of his fingers trembling as he looks deep into your eyes.

“Taehyung’s ex is Jisoo, alright? He already knows about the two of you. Just thought you needed the transparency.”

Your stern statement withers into a mumble at the end, Jimin’s stare so intense that it makes you cower.

Instantly, you think that he looks dejected because he’s already known for the start and the truth you’ve just dropped on him confirmed it.

Jimin’s absolutely crestfallen because it’s the furthest thing he’s ever expected for you to say, feeling your hand give him some consolation pats on his back.

One inhale, one exhale. Maybe the gnawing feeling of emptiness he’s feeling would be gone tomorrow, now that you’ve sprung an unknown truth of his current girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend happening to be your friend.

But that’s not the case.

“Yup. Needed that.”

It’s okay for Jimin to look for you.

It’s okay for him to only hum when Jisoo hugs him and buries her face in his chest. It’s not as warm as yours when you embrace him, and the scent that stays on his shirt isn’t of you. She doesn’t nudge her nose on the middle of his chest, and poke at his sternum and ask him to stop getting ripped.

It’s okay for him to only smile when she kisses him when used to giggle and actually love it. He’s never kissed you but he wonders everyday, and you’d probably taste as sweet as you look. If he ever did kiss you, you’d be his only fixation he can’t stop drinking out of.

It’s okay for Jimin to only smile when Jisoo tells him that she loves him, and if he ever does say it, there’s no I preceding the reiteration.

He’s not sure whether she means it or it’s out of habit, something developed when he said it so often and out of the blue. Even then, he can’t feel the saccharine feeling of being drunk in love anymore. Atleast Jimin knows that whenever you told him you loved him, you did actually mean it.

This is okay.

It’s okay for him to buy your perfume and spray it on his pillow, and if he closes his eyes hard enough, he could think that the comforter enveloping him is your warmth instead.

Jimin’s lost and he lets himself to be.

It’s okay to fall out of love with Jisoo.

Jimin from three months ago wouldn’t have thought that it was possible. In fact, he thought that it was the most impossible thing underneath the sun and he often confesses it to the moon, because he’s never fallen as hard.

Jimin from two months ago thought that he’s at his happiest, and everything that’s been happening ever since he’s laid his eyes on Jisoo is serendipity.

Jimin from a month ago thought that he was rotting from within. He felt as if he’s the most frustrated he’s ever been and it got him wondering whether his hair is actually dyed grey or if it’s from his stress.

Jimin now, is someone that has never been hurt before as he’s hurting now.

He finds himself in this same godforsaken bar he’s grown to both hate and love, and the start and end of what seems to be the things that make and break him as a person.

It’s clear as day when under the simultaneously soft and harsh lighting, that maybe Jisoo’s never been his.

No one between the two of them actually made the initiative to break up with the other, but it seemed like words weren’t needed.

She’s perhaps always belonged to Taehyung who has the tightest of grips on her waist. There’s no grinding, no libido. Embracing each other in the middle of a crowd tells him everything he needs to know.

Jisoo’s slipped away from Jimin’s grasp and into Taehyung’s who’ll she will always come back to. Tae never wavers and he’s holding onto her as if she’s his lifeline, and that wouldn’t exactly be wrong.

Jimin’s girlfriend is slipping away from him but it’s not what pains him.

Jimin’s eyes are bleary, and he’s unsure whether it’s because he’s drunk or because he’s crying. Whatever it was, it’s not because of Jisoo — it’d never been her.

He rests his head on your shoulder and you let him. He feels so defenseless and looks shattered that you don’t question him nonetheless, a magnanimous feeling of pity rolling from every circle you rub to his back.

“You’re really beautiful.”

He says it out of the blue as if it’s a confirmed thought, looking up at you in stride.

“Don’t say things like that,” you could only murmur as you try to look for a bottle of water within your reach, sooner or later having to haul Jimin home.

He doesn’t have a slightest clue why you’d dismiss it, but he persists as he always does.

“I’m really lucky to know you,” it’s an irrevocable fact with how he says it, making you think for a second if he’s actually sober and could come home by himself. That’s not any of his worries, because this time his mind works as fast as his mouth does. “But I think I’m the luckiest if I can have you.”

As Jimin comes to realize, it’s not Jisoo that he should’ve fallen for. He got burned as fast as he crashed, and it was love like that he’s always tried seeking.

It’s the easy short-lived warmth he got from a candle, but never the hard yet lasting warmth he got from a fireplace.

Your love for him was built steadily over the years and never all at once. It was from a spark to a fire in the making you took the chance being burnt from, and how long it was built meant no match to how short it was extinguished.

“Am I too late?”

Jimin’s as vulnerable as he can get that he doesn’t realize he’s already crying and it’s not drunken blues anymore.

He loves you so much and it takes an avalanche to make him realize that every moment with you shined.

His heart’s a muscle and he couldn’t believe that he’s only realized now that you’re it’s one true memory, having trained to be with you so much that no one could quite compare all along.

You don’t need anything to be the light; you don’t need to do anything to be the center of attention. It’s always been you yet he’s dismissed the thought that maybe it was just the bias of having known you.

But now, it’s about who he would and wouldn’t be if not for you.

Jimin can’t live without even the concept of you.

“If I told you that I’m falling for you, what would you do?”

And when you look at him with the same hint of bleariness in your eyes, and his shoulder feels the brunt of your tentative squeeze and sees the lightest of smiles on your lips —

Jimin knows everything that he needs to know.

314 notes · View notes

writtenvisionary · 3 years ago

Text

Not Her Idea

Read on Ao3

WC: 2.9k

Summary: She most definitely did not adopt a small black cat and name him Mini Noir. Nope. But she can't help but swoon over what an adorable sight the real superhero with his mini namesake is. Based on this Tumblr post by @akuma-eater

It wasn’t her idea. It most definitely was NOT her idea to adopt a black kitten and name it after Chat Noir. Nope. If you ask, her parents were the ones who insisted. Because it was not her who suggested it.

She would definitely regret it later if she did. But she didn’t.

Although as Marinette pets the small, soft creature, a smile forms on her face. He rubs up against her, craving attention. Of course she gives it to him; who is she to deny?

She was still debating if she should tell her partner or not. His ego is already so huge, and there are so many of his fans that have named a pet after him already. If he knew that his own partner named her cat after him?

She would never hear the end of it.

There was also the fact that Alya would freak about the name and start demanding answers, because what teenage girl in Paris wasn’t attracted to the, admittedly hot, superhero? Again, she would never hear the end of it.

But when the words slipped out of her mouth in class, her friends immediately wanted to see the new kitten. Which makes sense. She really should have expected it. So she said that they can all come over after school and meet the little guy.

Now she’s frantically running around her room, tidying up before they make their way into her space, while Mini Noir innocently sits on her chaise, staring at her with wide green eyes.

All posters of Adrien ripped down: check. Scattered trash in garbage bin: check. Litter box cleaned and kitten has food and water: check. Fabric put away: check.

“Tikki, hide,” she whispers to her kwami, who promptly phases into her purse on her desk.

She takes a deep breath.

“Alright, you can come up!” She calls.

Footsteps are then heard making their way up the steps, and suddenly she’s not alone in her room anymore.

Attention is immediately turned to the kitten on her chaise. She watches in awe as Alya coos over her, and Nino rests a hand on his girlfriend’s shoulders, keeping her grounded. He reaches over to pet Mini Noir with his other hand, who leans into his touch and starts to purr.

Marinette glances over at Adrien. Her knees buckle at the look of pure happiness in his eyes, and she can feel a her cheeks heating up. Their eyes meet and she smiles.

“Y-you w-wanna pet the smitten, I MEAN kitten?”

He sends her a grin and nods.

She somehow finds the strength to look back at her other friends.

“Hey guys, can A-Adrien see him?”

Yeah, she hates the stutter just as much as Alya does.

They agree and happily back up so that the blonde model can pet the little creature. Adrien slowly takes a few steps forward and puts out his hand for the kitten to smell. After deciding that Adrien is apparently a safe human, he rubs against his hand.

“Aw,” he mumbles. “He’s so sweet.”

Her heart melts.

“Hey, Mari. What’s his name? You didn’t tell us at lunch.”

She barely hears the question. Her eyes are trained on her crush as he carefully picks up the kitten and sits down, letting Mini Noir stand up on his lap. He gently pets him, coaxing him to lay down.

“Marinette,” Alya says, catching her attention.

“Oh,” she looks to her, then gulps.

Should I tell her? She’s not gonna let me live this down.

…. Oh, whatever. He needs people to refer to him as something.

“Mini Noir, or just Minou.”

Marinette looks back to Adrien, not wanting to see her bff’s reaction, and bites her lip.

His grin had softened, but his eyes are watering. He continues to pet her kitten, who had finally laid down, as he blinks to stop the tears from falling.

“Are you okay, Adrien?”

He looks up at her, and suddenly he can’t stop the salty liquid from rolling down his cheeks. A smile crosses his features.

“I’m perfectly okay. Just… wish I had a cat.”

Not that she has a say, because she sucks at lying herself, but she can tell that he’s not telling the truth. Something seems… off.

“I get it. I’ve wanted a pet for so long. I can’t imagine what it’s like being alone in that huge house with no one, not even a pet,” she says, and woah she just talked to him without stuttering.

Adrien nods, looking back down at his secret namesake, and scratching behind his ears. Even though it may compromise his identity, he has to come visit tonight as Chat Noir. He has a right to meet a cat named after him, right? He doesn’t want to leave him at all.

But he has no choice. His father needs him home by four o’clock to get ready for his interview at six. Not that he’s excited for it, but he doesn’t want to disappoint the man any more than he already has. He’s sick of being a failure.

With that depressing thought in mind, he lets out a sigh.

“I gotta get going, guys. Let me know if you ever wanna hang out again and I’ll see what I can do.”

The three of his friends nod, Marinette looking oddly worried, and Adrien takes Mini Noir in his hands. He stands, handing the kitten to his favorite everyday Ladybug, but not before leaving a kiss atop the cat’s little head.

After he leaves, the atmosphere turned awkward.

Nino grunts.

“His dad is getting on my last nerve,” he grumbles. “You guys don’t even know half the shit he goes through. I wanna get him out of there, but I don’t know how.”

Marinette’s eyebrows furrow.

“What’s going on?”

“Yeah, Nino, you haven’t even told me anything. And I’m dating you. So?” Alya asks, hands on her hips.

The DJ sighs, taking his cap off and running a hand over his short hair.

“Gabe isolates him from his friends, doesn’t eat with him at dinner, and Adrien has to set an appointment to even see him. That’s neglect. Gabriel is not a good father, and something tells me there’s something he does behind closed doors that Adrien can’t tell me about.”

Alya and Marinette stare at him, now concerned.

“Well, what can we do?” Marinette asks.

Nino shakes his head.

“Nothing. I’ve tried to talk to Gabriel, and obviously I was banned from the mansion. Adrien doesn’t think there’s anything wrong, Nathalie keeps saying that it’s not her business, and the Gorilla doesn’t even talk.”

“True, and even if we’re able to convince Adrien that his father is a dickhead, we won’t be able to do anything because he’s rich and famous and will probably be able to overrule any charges we press,” Alya explains with an eye roll.

The entire subject makes Marinette’s heart pound, and she honestly just wants the focus to go back on her kitten.

So, she swallows and forces a smile.

“We’ll figure it out. You guys wanna play with him for a bit while I help my parents down in the bakery?”

Both friends agree with an excited nod, so she hands off Mini Noir to Alya and rushes down the stairs. The tension in that room was too much for her to handle. She needed to get away.

—

Marinette sits at her desk, hand-sewing her latest design with soft music sounding from her speaker. Her face twists in concentration as she tilts her head, readjusting the position of her hands to work at a better angle.

A knock at her top bedroom hatch startles her.

Gently setting down the piece she was working on, she stands and takes a few steps to the other side of her room. Then she glances up at the window on the hatch above her loft bed, and smiles at the sight.

She really should have guessed.

He comes by every other night. Originally, it was for some pastries for his kwami, but it soon became time for him to unwind after a busy day. She has come to quite enjoy his presence.

It’s why she named her kitty after him; he was so important to her, and so was Chat Noir.

“Coming,” she calls to him as she steps up the ladder.

When she reaches the hatch, her eyes lock with the black cat hero before pushing it open.

He jumps right through the opening, landing right on top of her bed. She shakes her head as she closes it, eyeing him through her peripheral. His forearm lay over his eyes, head on the pillow, breathing heavily.

“You good, kitty?”

He nods, pulling his arm away to look at her.

“My dad wanted me home for an interview earlier and then said he didn’t want me to go,” he frowns. “I had to leave my friends. I didn’t want to, and I didn’t even need to!”

“Aw,” she mumbles, lowering herself at the end of her bed.

“Well, I think I have something that will cheer you up!”

One of his eyebrows perks up, as well as the corner of his lips. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

She holds up a finger, trying to stifle an excited smile, then makes her way down from the loft.

A soft mew is heard from below, catching Chat Noir’s attention. So he looks over her railing, and the pure glee he feels when a black kitten is spotted cannot be tamed. His grin hurts, eyes following Marinette’s movements as she struggles to catch him (or her, he didn’t know) from running around the room. When she finally secures the small creature in her hands, she huffs a sigh of relief. Chat bites his lip, watching in awe.

She’s so adorable.

Oh, and the cat’s adorable too.

Marinette struggles as she walks up her ladder, out of breath, but ultimately looks up at Chat Noir with a winded smile.

“Meet,” she swallows, “Mini Noir, or Minou.”

“Aw, oh my gosh. You named him after me? Mari, really?”

She could tell that his question was full of innocence, despite how teasing the word’s connotations are.

“Of course,” she feels her cheeks heat up. “You mean a lot to me. I would name a million things after you, Chaton.”

Chat Noir tried to stop it, but tears started forming all over again. Just… knowing that he actually means something to someone… it’s overwhelming. Not to mention that he loves cats. This is like a double whammy.

He’s so happy. He wishes he knew how to thank her. For now, a simple smile and hug would have to do.

She lets herself be engulfed in his arms, replying to his “Thank you” with an “Always.” He makes sure to leave room for their furry friend, who had resolved to curling up in Marinette’s lap.

When they separate, Chat Noir immediately looks down at the kitten, petting him with a smile.

Mini Noir stares at his honorary father with wide, green eyes and a little heart-shaped nose that nearly makes Chat melt. He scratches behind the kitten’s ears, enjoying the purrs that erupt from him. He wishes he could restrain himself from purring, but that seemed frivolous because he doesn’t even know when he starts.

Marinette giggles beside him and he sighs, not taking his eyes off Mini Noir.

“Was I purring again?”

“Yup,” she says, popping the ‘p.’

Then fingers are running through his hair and everything around him comes to a stop. His eyes flutter closed, and he leans into her touch. His purr returns, unwillingly, as he accepts the pets from Marinette. An angry meow from her lap makes his hand start moving again, giving Mini Noir the same treatment that his favorite fashion designer was giving him.

He was in heaven; experiencing pure ecstasy, feeling a kind of love that he hasn’t felt in such a long time. And the kitten… he just feels so appreciated.

Understandably, he’s disappointed when she pulls away. He glares at her, frowning hard, but she only boop’s his nose and hands the kitten over to him.

“Sorry, Chat. Gotta get those treats from the bakery, and set up the video game. Have fun!”

He shakes his head, leaning back on the bed and letting the kitten crawl on top of him. His little paws knead into his leather suit, leaving his claws to dig into the leather, so he ends up having to tenderly pull his paws off of him. He rubs the pads, gently massaging them. Mini Noir lets him, surprisingly. In fact, he plops down onto his back and stretches, allowing his paws to web out.

Chat Noir giggles, “Hey, princess? Are you sure this one’s for me?”

She scoffs.

“No, Chaton. This is my kitty. You just get the pleasure of seeing him a lot.”

He feigns hurt, dramatically gasping.

“You mean that I’m not your kitty?”

Marinette groans, “You know what I meant. Besides, aren’t you Ladybug’s kitty?”

Chat shrugs, looking back at the cute ball of fluff on his stomach. He smiles.

“I don’t think so. She calls me ‘kitty’ but it’s just a nickname. We’re not together or anything.” His voice drops into something smaller as he takes ahold of his mini’s paws again. “I wish we were, but she doesn’t like me like that. I’m sure I annoy her.”

The designer wanted nothing more than for him to believe that he was not annoying but he had such a low self-esteem that it was hard to really convince him of anything. But she sighs and does her best anyway.

“Chat Noir, you are anything but annoying. If she doesn’t see how amazing you are, she’s missing out.” Her tone turns predatory. “And if she ever says you are annoying, or stupid, or anything you’ve said about yourself, I will NOT hesitate to send her a giant punch to the gut.”

Her empty threat causes a smile to break through his chagrined frown, and a chuckle to escape his larynx (yes he pays attention in science class).

“You always say the right thing, Princess. Thank you,” he admits.

Marinette was going to reply, but her mother called her name from downstairs. She sends her two kitties a nervous smile.

“Be right back.”

Then she exits the room, abandoning the symbols of bad luck on her bed. She just hopes they will behave until she gets back with a tray of yummy, cheesy pastries.

To her surprise, they do. It’s Chat, actually, who ends up falling asleep, while mini Chat Noir prances around her room. He was de-transformed, but luckily he had already turned away from the hatch, hiding his true identity from her. This made her sigh in relief.

A snore sounds through the room, and she shakes her head.

Poor kitty doesn’t get enough sleep.

She makes a point to grab a throw blanket from her chaise on her way up to him, then drapes it over him. Then she heads back down the ladder to catch the little kitten, before bringing him back up to the real superhero. Mini Noir immediately settles in next to him, curling into a little ball flush against his side. Marinette can’t help but mumble a tiny ‘awe’ at the sight.

“Psst, Chat. Can you hear me?”

Nothing. He’s out cold.

Plagg flies in front of her with crossed arms, grunting.

“What is the meaning of this, Pigtails?”

Marinette shrugs, “Meaning of what?”

Plagg rolls his eyes.

“Why is there another thing here? I thought I was the main event!”

“His name is Mr. Mini Noir, or Minou. You can call him Chat Noir Jr, for all I care, just whatever you want to call him, Plagg, but nothing disrespectful,” she looks at him with indignation. “It’s a small kitten. Please be gentle.”

Plagg scoffs, floating over to the cat. She wants to turn and see his interaction with the other cat, but then she’d risk seeing Chat’s civilian identity and she wasn’t ready for that yet.

“This is family, Pigtails. We’re the same breed—“

“No you’re—“

“—And I will always love my kittens. I just don’t always outwardly show it. My insults are laced with love, little lady.”

She tilts her head slightly in admission.

He floats back in front of her, that scowl returning on his magical features once more.

“Okay, now where is my cheese.”

It wasn’t a question, but a demand. She smiles and shakes her head.

“It’s on my desk. Be quick before Chat wakes up.”

She watches Plagg glance over her shoulder at the sleeping boy, before he nods and promptly takes flight. Then she feasts her eyes on the way he inhales a multitude of cheese triangles that have been sat on the desk in front of him.

Only one minute passes before he’s back at her side. His tiny arms are crossed over his chest.

“Thanks, Pigtails. Where’s Tikki?”

Marinette smirks, “If she didn’t come out, that means she doesn’t want to see you.”

He rolls his eyes, floating back to his chosen.

“Rude,” she can hear him mutter angrily.

Plagg zips back into the ring, and a flash of green light encases her room before fading away. She is left with two sleeping black cats and a heavy load of homework.

—

It most definitely was her idea to adopt her mini chat noir.

That’s certainly why she’s sneakily snapping a few photos of the pair, snickering as she does so.

What’s one kitten without another? Just lonely.

Something tells her that Chat is already lonely enough outside of the mask. She didn’t want him to feel that way anymore. Who is she to deny him of a friend?

She doesn’t regret it. In fact, she is very happy with this turn of events.

Things are now paws-itively purr-fect.

#mlb #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfic #marichat #black kitten #adrienette #Adrien Agreste #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug and chat noir

26 notes · View notes

elliewritessometimes · 4 years ago

Text

hello. have you seen this post by @notsomightymightytiger?? that’s my friend!!! and this is completely and utterly inspired by that and completely and utterly written for her. love you stabby friend <3

also known as: the tigers go to disneyland, kateva like to kiss, chess, reese and mattie have an understated bromance and cheerwives can actually be fluffy for once

tw: swearing, theme park kind of things??? aka rollercoasters and fireworks and all that. as always, let me know if i’ve missed anything

(sidenote idk if you can tell but i have never in my life been to disneyland don’t come for me if i wrote it all wrong i tried my best)

---

"We're going to Disneyland."

There was silence in the gym for a solid thirty seconds before all hell broke loose.

"WhAT???"

"Wait, really?!?"

"Oh my God, Riley, you're the best, oh my gOd!"

"Why the fuck did you think that taking us to fucking Disneyland was a good idea??" Kate looked less than pleased at the proposition, a stark contrast to the delighted faces of Reese and Mattie.

Riley smiled brightly. "Team bonding!!"

Kate rolled her eyes. "Right. Of course." Their voice rose in pitch, sarcasm delicately lacing their words. "For the best of the team-"

Chess cut them off, not so subtly stamping on her foot. "Katherine, please."

Farrah had been wobbling on her tiptoes, peering over Annleigh's shoulder. She gave a long-suffering groan. "Annleigh, Clark's not a Tiger, he can't come."

"But-"

"No. It's unfair."

Annleigh ignored her sister and switched her attention to Riley, making her best puppy eyes at the captain. Riley only widened her smile. It probably hurt her face a little bit. "You know what? Fine. Clark can come. It's gonna be fun, right?!"

Annleigh giggled at the answer, sticking her tongue out at a fuming Farrah. Kate was in a similar predicament, being held back by a smirking Chess with an arm around their shoulder. They pulled out their phone as well, already dialling a number, “If Annleigh’s boyfriend gets to come, then my girlfriend should be allowed as well. Otherwise that’s nepotism.”

“Fine.” Riley was steadily regretting her decision to hold a cheer trip. On her left, Cairo squeezed her hand, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. Kate gagged in their direction. “You better not, Kate, or I’m banning your girlfriend from Disneyland.”

“Fuck you.”

“Wait,” Reese spoke up, “If Kate and Annleigh can have Eva and Clark, and Cairo and Riley have each other, can I bring my boyfriend?”

“No more significant others!” Riley clapped her hands, ignoring Reese’s pout. “If you can’t get Eva and Clark here in the next eight minutes, we will be leaving them behind! I paid so much money for these tickets and we will not be late.”

The team headed towards the door, being greeted by Eva and Clark already standing beside Cairo’s minivan. They split the rides evenly between the van and Chess’ car (Kate was more than pissed to find that their best friend had been in on the plan all along).

At one point, Mattie took Reese’s hand. “Hey, even if you can’t bring your boyfriend, you’ve got me, right? Ultimate bromance and all that?”

Reese grinned and squeezed the freshman’s hand. “Hell yeah.”

“I want that pin.”

“No, you don’t.” Reese hugged the Belle pin closer.

Chess held out a hand. “Yeah, but I do though.”

Reese shook her head.

“Look, I’ll give you my Tinkerbell diamond one.” They held out the rare pin in their other hand.

“No! Belle is my favourite!”

“She’s my favourite as well though!”

Cairo sighed. “We’ve been here literally ten minutes.”

Reese linked arms with Mattie, turning on her heel to walk off, “I’m going now and you’re not getting my Belle pin!!!!”

“HEY!” Chess chased after the two, trying so hard to keep up their grumpy demeanour and failing when a smile crept onto their face.

Turning to an anxious-looking Riley, Cairo sighed again. By now, she’d sighed more than she’d spoken today. “Chess does know that they could just... buy their own Belle pin if they really wanted, right???”

“It’s the fun of it, Cai.” Riley looked around, craning her neck. “Where on Earth have the other five members of our team gone?”

“Holy shit.” At this rate, Cairo must have been running out of oxygen from the intense sighing. “It has been. Ten. Minutes.”

Farrah wouldn't call herself a Disneyland regular, but she's been a few times before. She remembered a time before her mother had left, when she was still just a little kid, coming to the park for the first time. It had been the kind of magical that only a child can experience, filled with glitter and laughter and something that might have been called family. Her mother bought bubblegum flavoured cotton candy, handing the stick to a seven-year-old Farrah with a smile and a wink. They agreed that it was the first thing that you had to do when going to Disneyland - buy cotton candy. Every time since, Farrah bought the same bubblegum pink sugar from the same tacky stand and ate it with the same wonder as she did the very first time.

Now, Farrah had a new family. In, perhaps, more ways than one. Here, away from home, she's still with her family, maybe a slightly dysfunctional one made up of teenage cheerleaders (and Clark), but still, they are her family in one way or another.

Annleigh returned as Farrah was mulling over all this, a stick of worryingly neon pink cotton candy in her hand. "Figured you'd want to start the day off with your usual sugar rush."

Farrah took the treat with a smile, wondering if Annleigh is only so glad to buy such unhealthy food because at least it's not alcohol. "Thanks."

"Come on, ladies! We've got a whole park to explore!" Clark had apparently already visited a store, a pair of Mickey ears stretched over his head. Farrah rolled her eyes, but followed her sister and brother-in-law (nearly) further down the street because, after all, they are her family.

“I can’t believe you’ve never been to fucking Disneyland before,” Eva looked mildly horrified, “Has Chess never taken you?”

“I didn’t really want to go.”

Eva narrowed her eyes. “Why the fuck-”

“Reasons.” Kate’s voice was sharp and Eva backed off, only kissing the top of their head. Kate squeezed her hand in response. “Anyway, come on, show me everything. Mountain rides challenge, right?”

“Ugh, Katie, the queues with be forever...”

“Lucky for you, I’ll be there to while away the time with you.” She winked, laughing when Eva blushed. “Let’s go.”

Of all the things to happen at Disneyland, Reese was not expecting to get sneak attacked by a literal cuddly pig. She yelped, reaching a hand to smack it away, nearing the point of ‘this might as well happen’, when a small head poked out from behind the toy. Mattie grinned, “Boo!”

“Jesus Christ, you scared the life out of me.”

The younger girl giggled brightly. “Look what I got!”

“...Is that the pig from Moana?”

“Obviously.” Mattie rolled her eyes. “You should know by now that Moana is the best Disney movie of all time.”

Reese rummaged in her backpack for a second before pulling out yet another pin. “Look! Moana pin. Girl, I would give it to you, but me and Chess are tryna see who can get the most pins by the end of the day. Speaking of, was Chess in the store?”

“Yeah, actually.” She hesitated. “Dude, I hate to tell you this, but they had a Belle pin.”

“Shit.”

Perhaps queuing had been a mistake. It had probably been hours. Kate would have known more accurately if they’d worn a watch like Chess always told them to. She was stubborn though, and hadn’t. “Aves...”

“Yeah?”

“How long have we been waiting?”

“Twenty-five minutes.”

“Oh.” They craned their neck to see over the heads in front of them, realising that they were only a few people from the front. “Oh.”

Eva laughed and took her partner’s hand again, “Told you the queues were long.”

However, in only a matter of minutes, they were seated in an uncomfortable car, the seatbelts just a little too tight to be comfortable and a little too loose to feel actually safe. To say Kate was uncomfortable would be an understatement. She was also maybe a tiny bit scared.

Eva squinted at them. “You look like you’re gonna throw up.”

“I’m fine.”

And so the ride began.

Around halfway through, they began the steady climb to the highest peak. Kate turned to Eva, yelling over the shouts of other passengers. “Hey, babe? Remember when I said I didn’t come here with Chess because of reasons? Now might be a good time to tell you that those reasons are that I’m scared of heights.”

“You fucking idiot.” Eva turned carefully to them, holding their hands tighter, worry and amusement shining in her eyes. The car reached the peak of the ride. “Look at me and don’t fucking think about looking down. It’s okay.” She cupped her cheek. They fell suddenly and Kate's heart jumped into her throat. Eva laughed a little at their surprise. “You know what they say, babe, you gotta confront your fears straight on.”

“I can’t do anything straightly.”

And that was how they found themselves kissing on a rollercoaster, hair slightly in their faces, just as the camera shutter went off.

The team somehow reconvened for lunch, stopping on a bench somewhere as Clark unpacked a multitude of sandwiches and juice boxes. Of course, only Clark, Annleigh and Riley ended up eating the home-brought food, everyone else opting to buy their own trashy, mostly-sugar lunch.

“How the fuck did you know to bring all this if we only organised the trip this morning?” Kate sounded suspicious, eyeing Clark like he was the imposter.

Clark looked mildly sheepish. “Oh... We all knew already.”

“WHAT?”

“Yeah, sorry Kitkat.” Chess stifled a snort of laughter. “We organised this weeks ago. We had a group chat and everything.”

Kate spluttered for a second. “Alright, traitors, who else was left out of this?”

Mattie, Farrah and Reese all raised a hand.

“This makes no sense. Cairo, I trust you to tell the truth, why the fuck didn’t you tell us?!”

Cairo smirked. “We didn’t tell Mattie and Farrah because they’re children-”

“Rude!” Mattie smacked Cairo on the arm. “I am possibly more responsible than half of the rest of you.”

Riley cut in. “Don’t be silly, Cai. We didn’t tell Reese, Mattie or Farrah because they like Disney the most and we wanted it to be a surprise treat for them.”

The rest of the group made noises of appreciation or fondness. Kate, however, was less than pleased, “What about me?!”

“Oh, we just wanted to see your face when we announced it.” Cairo didn't hold back.

“Fuck you all.” But they were holding back a smile, already moving on to the next thing. “Hey, Farrah, you okay? Why aren’t you eating?”

The sophomore groaned. “I feel sick.”

Annleigh hugged her sister to her side, rubbing her back gently. ‘It’s because you ate all that cotton candy earlier.”

“It was so good, though.” Farrah frowned, regretting her past-self and her need for sugar.

Clark reached into his backpack, pulling out a pair of Minnie ears, before plonking them awkwardly on Farrah’s head. He grinned. “That’ll make you feel better!”

“Dude, I don’t know, but thanks for the effort.” She fought a smile, reaching up to arrange the ears around her plaits.

Riley had been anxious about the trip ever since it had been first suggested. She’d pored over the plans for hours on end, triple checking each detail with Cairo and Chess. Now that they were here, it was all going well enough. Sure, maybe they had gotten lost a couple of times, and sure, maybe they hadn’t stayed as much of a team as she’d planned, but yeah, it was going fine. Everyone else was having fun.

“Hey, Rye, you doing okay?”

She nodded with a smile, clutching Cairo’s hand. “Yup! All good!”

Cairo did not look convinced. “Look, you've been stressing about everyone else all day, how about we leave them be and go visit some princesses, huh?”

“Cai... Cai, that would be honestly amazing.” Hesitating, she watched the retreating backs of the rest of the team. “You’re sure they’ll be okay?”

“They’ll be fine, I promise. Besides, they’ve got Clark and Chess and Eva in case anything goes wrong.” The taller girl didn’t hesitate from naming who she perceived as the ‘responsible ones’.

“Okay.” Riley opened her mouth to suggest a destination, when they were approached by the one and only Peter Pan.

“Hey!”

“OhmygodCai.” She clung to her girlfriend’s arm. “It’s Peter Pan.”

Cairo snorted, nudging Riley to spark her reply. She watched as the two had what was possibly the purest and most wholesome conversation she had ever heard, sneakily taking photos that she would treasure because of Riley’s true delight. Riley skipped towards her after a couple of minutes, grinning properly from ear to ear. “That was so cool!”

“Amazing, Rye. Who shall we visit next?”

“Oh my God, we have to see Tangled!”

“....Rapunzel.”

Riley paused from where she was dragging Cairo into another set of rooms. “What?”

Cairo laughed, “She’s not called Tangled, babe, her name’s Rapunzel.”

“Oh. Yeah, right, of course, forgot.”

The other girl only laughed harder. “You're so stupid, Jesus Christ, I love you.”

Riley blushed. “Love you too.”

“So you did the mountain rides challenge.”

“Yes. Obviously.”

“And somehow, just magically, you two found yourselves making out in every single ride photo.” Chess crossed their arms, grinning at the couple in front of them.

“I- It was noT making out!!” Kate spluttered a reply, hiding her face in Eva’s shoulder. Chess only laughed harder.

Eva hummed as if she was making a difficult decision. “I don’t know, babe, you got pretty into it at one point.”

The senior cackled, high-fiving Eva over Kate's head. Kate continued to hide in their girlfriend's shoulder, only lifting a middle finger in Chess’ direction as a reply. Chess took the offending finger in their hand, pulling Kate up so she could walk between the other two. “Damn, Kitkat.”

“I’m not ever replying to that name again. I have been too attacked to allow it.”

Eva kissed the top of their head, “You came here to have a good time and you’re just feeling so attacked right now.”

“Exactly!” Kate nudged their head up into Eva’s chin, “This is why I’m dating you, meme girl.”

“Ew, gross.” Chess tugged Kate, who tugged Eva, who finally got them walking again. “Come on, lovebirds, it’s firework time.”

By the time the fireworks began, they’d been at the park for hours. Farrah still had her Minnie ears on, ones which Clark occasionally tried to steal due to his own ears being lost on one ride or another. Annleigh would only bat his hand away, laughing when he pressed kisses to her palm.

Kate kissed Eva again when the first firework exploded above them, being caught by yet another camera, this time in the hands of Riley. The photo found its way onto the Tigers group chat by morning, greeted by a pouting Kate begging them to take it down against the protests of the rest of the team (“But you’re just so cute!”). Somehow, she didn’t complain when it even later worked its way onto Eva's Instagram feed.

Chess and Reese jumped at the first fireworks, too absorbed in counting pins to pay attention to the rest of the world. Mattie wormed her way between them, sneakily stealing both Reese’s Moana pin and Chess’ newly-bought Belle pin. They were too distracted by the light show to notice and Mattie celebrated her little victory by also stealing some of the cotton candy that Farrah had bought herself again, despite her earlier regrets. She supposed some people never learnt.

Cairo stood quietly at the back of the group, showing a still-bouncing Riley the pictures taken with the various characters they’d encountered. Riley kissed her for the final firework, a silent ‘thank you’ for today.

With the lights of Disneyland glimmering maybe slightly tackily behind the group, Riley took one last picture. It was them, the team, the Tigers, silhouetted in the lights but, if you zoomed in and maybe turned the brightness up a bit, you could still see them smiling. That made its way onto the group chat as well and maybe it still hangs in more than one of their rooms. It was certainly a day that qualified for the scrapbooks.

41 notes · View notes

hollyhomburg · 5 years ago

Text

Close to you

(Gangster! Yoongi x Goodgirl! Reader) (Rags to Riches Au)

Summary: Nobody likes Yoongi, not your older brother or your friends. But with him, you feel more protected than possessed. And though he might be a gangster and more than a little dangerous himself- that makes all the difference. From drug dealer to producer, from rags to riches, you’re Yoongi’s person- his muse- his soulmate.

Tags: good girl x bad boy au, blood, drugs, Yoongi with tattoo's, references to making good ol’ sweet love, Rags to riches! au, brief mentions of drunk sex, Yoongi is soft and squishy and just loves the reader a lot.

A/n: This is more a story than a fic- with a little bit of an open ending to it- legit when I was editing this it tripled in length.

W/c: 9.8k

Song rec: Lover by Taylor Swift

You and Yoongi play basketball together, late at night in the park near your college. You don’t know how you started meeting up, but now you do nearly every day. You gather with the others at the edge of the court when the street lights turn on. Maybe it’s just to let off some steam from your busy college schedules, less than ideal lives, or just plain because you like the game.

It’s a mish-mash of different people from different backgrounds, misfits and goody-two-shoes alike, pros and newbies at different skill levels, but everyone is pretty good.

The games are never serious and no one really ever keeps score. The teams change depending on who tells what joke who gives what jibe. Lines are drawn in the minutes before you start, sides taken based off inside jokes and playful feuds.

One night when a regular named Wonho wears a crop top and calls it ‘fashion’- teams are drawn based on who thinks it’s ridiculous or not. (You and Yoongi are on the same team that night- because of course boys should be allowed to wear crop tops).

You’re always the last two to leave the court at night, sometimes just before the lights shut off at midnight, sometimes you have to hop the fence if the security guard has already come around to lock up. You joke that he might have a vendetta against your group- you always say until the very last moment the court closes and he grumbles about leaving early.

And on the nights where strangers lean in- when the streets don’t feel so safe and shadowy figures that seem recognizable at a distance linger longer than they should. When there’s another stabbing or a rumor of a girl getting taken off the street, Yoongi is the first to ask if you want him to walk you home.

You try reserving your impression until you know him better. But the tattoos on his arms and on his chest, peaking out over the low collar of his tanktops lead you to make conclusions that you’re not proud of.

Your first interactions with him are brief at best and you know just from how he looks that you should be careful around him. The others might play at being rugged and dangerous but Yoongi doesn't have to pretend.

You realize this when he stats to walk you home. No one messes with him, the other gangbangers on the street don’t catcall you when yoongi walks you home. Shop keepers seem to Nodd at him if they feel brave and close their doors the second they see him if they don’t.

Yoongi seems pretty abnormal for a typical gangbanger, He doesn't fit the trigger happy sadistic stereotype that the media paints others of his ilk in.

When he first asks to walk you home, You blush and let him because Yoongi is cute, charming even, and he’s nice company, even if he does look a little threatening sometimes.

You wouldn’t let him walk you home for any other reason then just...needing the safety he provides, not at first, not when your overprotective older brother doesn't let you date at all. You have a dating ban until you graduate college and as long as you sleep under his Roof.

He’d even tried to squash your interest in the pick-up basketball games when you first started going- but you needed an outlet, justified it by saying you weren't apart of any sports teams and needed to exercise. it isn’t safe on the streets so late at night, he says (and he’s not wrong- it isn’t.) he tries to get you to stay home each night or tries to guilt you into only playing on the weekends during the daytime.

But try as you might, every time he says it isn’t safe or brings up a carefully worded story by the news on the infestation of gangs in the city, you can’t help but picture Yoongi’s face. And maybe it isn’t safe for everyone. but the way he looks at you- guarded but curious and with a hint of mirth over the edge of a ball during a pass, makes you think that it’s safe for you.

You weren't exactly sheltered here, in your nice apartment on the edge of where town turns from seedy to bougie. You straddle the edge of gentrification Unable to fit in perfectly with either side. You’ve already had to move your apartment twice since you moved in with him after rent hikes and new policies made your past apartments just too expensive.

The first time your brother catches sight of Yoongi, on the stoop of your apartment building just as your brother gets home from work- perfectly mistimed, he goes apeshit when he realizes that Yoongi’s just dropped you off. Your older brother takes one look at him and says that you shouldn’t date gangsters- that Yoongi will just bring your trouble one day.

“Jesus Christ- he was just walking me home it's not like it's a big deal” and you remind him that you’re not dating- that you’re just friends and Yoongi is just being nice- and that your brother should be glad you have friends that want you to get home safe.

He tries to keep you from going out the next night and threatens you with few words not to keep seeing him. You’re late to the game because of it sucking off your pink sweatshirt and growling out that you need to work off some steam. “join my team” Yoongi says, making the others pause with a wave of his hands.

They reach for water bottles while you get your shoes on, Yoongi tucks the ball under his arm and stands while you finish lacing up your shoes. “you good?” he asks, “yeah just my brother being a dick and making me late.”

You know he says it’s all for you so that you’ll do well and school and get a good job later in life and have it easy, unlike either or your parents. but sometimes it feels like he just wants to control you needlessly. Yoongi nods and you see something- the mention of older brothers darken his gaze, you wonder why. “He pitch a fit after he saw me last night?”

“Oh you know it,” you say with false positivity. “But don’t worry you can still like- walk me home if you want, I liked talking to you yesterday,” you say, Shooting him a smile that makes his cheeks turn a little pink, he clears his throat “if it makes you feel safer of course” He reassures, ever the gentleman, and goes to shoot some free throws while you finish getting settled.

The blush doesn't fall really, especially when you meet his eyes over a pass a few seconds into the pell-mell start of the game. And you start to think that Yoongi with his tattoo’s and his roguish exterior might be the perfect amount of rebellion to get out from underneath your brother's thumb

Of course, Yoongi ends up being a lot more than that.

When you walk home together you talk about everything, sometimes stopping to get some food from a street stall, or passing a bottle of soju back and forth if it's a Saturday or a Melona ice pop if it's hot enough. you learn a surprising amount about him- you had no idea that Yoongi attended the same college as you, though he’s a few years older than you, in the year above, and only part-time because of his ‘job’.

He says this kind of cryptically he’s never come out and said what he does for a living to you before but you know, even if he doesn't say so at first. there have been times where other people pause at the gate to the court and gesture for Yoongi and you can see little packets of things being handed off, or he has to leave early. A curly red-haired guy that pops up often enough to drag Yoongi away who is equally as tattooed and threatening.

but whatever these mysterious people are, you know it’s secondary to Yoongi. after all one of the first conversations you ever have with him on the way home is about music. He confides in you and tells you of his big dreams of being a music producer one day after you urge him. He already knows your dreams of being a screenwriter- and the struggles you’ve had balancing your dream with your family.

Thought you both definitely went different directions with that, you just decided to double major in something more ‘practical’ in your brother's words, whereas Yoongi left home. “I’m gonna make it one day- I just know it, it’s the only thing I've ever wanted.”

And really anyone else would tell him that he’s stupid for having high hopes- his parents and older brother did after all- and he hasn’t talked to them in years after they disowned him for following his dream. But you just smile at him and tell him, “I believe you can do anything if you work hard enough for it.” Yoongi hides his blush by pulling up his hoodie.

Yoongi is a gangster of course, but the drugs he sells to put himself through college aren’t anything dangerous, even if he and his corner partner Hoseok, end up running from the police or another gang most nights and has been shot at twice in the last year. Hoseok has a scar from that night just above his shoulder- barely a graze.

People come and go for the nightly basketball games, but somehow- you and Yoongi are always the ones who linger the longest no matter how cold it is. If someone cared to ask, you might say you’re Already half in love with each other from ever smirk thrown over a shoulder during a game. Every “good shot” when you make a three-pointer sends you spiraling further down.

What started out as an easy way to piss your brother off, has turned into the kind of friendship that you would swear on. The day you roll your ankle Yoongi won’t take no for an answer and gives you a piggyback ride home.

“You need to eat any more this is hardly even a work out,” he teases, bending down so that you can reach the button for the streetlight. “You tip your nose against the nape of his neck and inhale a deep breath, he smells nice, he has the kind of scent that you could just wrap yourself in and cozy down. The action makes pleasant shivers erupt down Yoongi’s spine. The weight of you so gladly held that he almost misses it when he was to let you off. And he makes you promise to wrap it as soon as you get up the stairs.

The next day, the pink bandage sticks out from over your ankle socks and you bring Yoongi a brown paper bag from the fried food stall on the street. Smiling as you hand it over, “as a thank you” you justify, teasing him for his blush that starts up when he realizes you’ve remembered his favorites.

Yoongi’s secret is that he might be in a gang, but he’s also fucking soft as shit. He loves dramas and romance movies and he has a sonnet of Shakespeare tattooed under his arm and carefully stylized roses above his heart. Yoongi is a total hopeless romantic. He loves everything to do with romance. Even if all of the people he’s ever loved have broken his heart.

He doesn't sleep around a lot, doesn't let himself get close to people that often because people leave so much more often than they stay. And it’s almost like you’ve always been able to see through him- those times that you’ve talked about the dramas you both happen to like on the walk home,

And he lets you talk as much as you want about the different minute details of the dialogue and the stage directions, asks you why you like a certain love story or don’t and leans in- and you can tell he actually cares what you like and enjoy, is actually listening to you.

The same care that you return, when you share one of Yoongi’s shitty earbuds and listen to all of Yoongi’s favorite love songs. And steal the napkins he writes sappy lyrics on when you go out for hot chocolate after the game. The care that you show when you pretend that you don’t know that most of the lines of simple prose he writes are about you.

The first time you snag one and keep it away from him, you catch a look at the line of lyrics and find them- startlingly tender and honest. it’s hard to believe that walking you home is my favorite time of day when at the end of it I have to say goodbye to you, my secret is that I never want too.

You’re so shocked that he snags it out of your hand easily and he shoves the napkin in deep in his pocket. But the damage is done, you're wide-eyed and looking, his face bright red, cheeks round as he nibbles on his lower lip and shyly looks away, “don’t- don’t like- freak out or anything I just like writing about you is all- it’s not like, a big deal or anything.”

But the next day, you just smile up at him, wiping away the sweat at your temples proffering “walk me home?” like you have no idea what it means to him. So easily giving him the quiet acceptance of a part of him that he doesn't show anyone.

You goofily get too close when you guard him sometimes tackling and holding around his neck or wrap your arms around his waist during the warm-up games you play sometimes, giggling at his shout of “yah-”. When you manage to steal the ball from him- your specialty- you might not be able to make every three-pointer but you can always get the ball away from him or any of the others. Yoongi doesn't get angry or too competitive, just shakes his head and smiles.

You rarely ever see Yoongi around campus, even less rarely interact with him, though he will return your wave when you give him one. You see him one day when you’re walking between classes with one of your friends, Jaebaum who was your lab partner for chemistry last semester but had become your friend after joint commiseration over how terrible chemistry was.

“How do you know that guy?” the accusation is low and a little startled, his eyebrows pulling together into a glare that makes your hand fall from your wave. “We both go to the same pickup basketball games, why?”

Jaebaums jaw tightens as he looks back, but Yoongi’s already disappeared into the music building. “that guy deals drugs for half the sororities and fraternities at this school- just surprised me is all, I didn’t think that you would know him. You said you play basketball with him?”

You tell him more about them- not that you’ve ever hidden your secret. And he pushes until you agree to let him come with you. Maybe he’s just curious, but you’re just trying to be nice is all- Jaebaum is a friend even if his overprotective friend thing gets a little annoying.

You swear- what is it with guys and trying to protect you, Yoongi is the only one whose never made you feel inferior for it.

You’ve never brought someone to the games before but others have in the past, and Jaebum is introduced with little fanfare, though Yoongi goes eye him over the edge of a basketball and raise an eyebrow in your direction, you can hear his voice “really?”

maybe the night would have gone better if Jaebaum didn’t literally check Yoongi onto the concrete halfway through the game. The other players literally stop to a standstill, because no one is ever that aggressive. The ball bounces away unattended as Yoongi is quick to get up and shove Jaebaum back.

You’re quick to step between the two of them a hand on either of their chests as Yoongi growls out “what the fuck is your problem?” Even if Jaebaum is a bit taller, Yoongi doesn’t back down. Of course, the second Yoongi makes eye contact with you he backs off, though you do see his jaw roll in annoyance. And that’s more than you can say for Jaebaum, Who takes a few more words before he gets back to the game.

He lingers when the game finishes and usually, you’d stay for another, but no one else seems to be in the mood for it. You and Yoongi still pass a ball back and forth and Yoongi shoots a jab his way when pauses by the chainlink gate.

“Get lost asshole- and just for the record, acting all high and mighty around me doesn’t change the fact that your frat buys coke from me on the weekends and I know for a fact one of you brothers was looking for GHB last week,” Yoongi is merciless though putting all their dirty drug habits that he is only too privy too as their dealer out in the open.

Jaebum pales as you send him a shocked glance because you really didn’t know his fraternity did shit like that. GHB is like- serious stuff, and its reputation isn’t great. And fuck- Jaebaums even invited you to parties at his fraternity, who knows what was in the drinks of those other girls.

A glance at him tells you that Jaebaum really had no idea what his fraternity brothers were getting up to in their spare time but the damage is already done. Jaebaum turns to you pleading “Y/n please believe me- I didn’t know they where-”

“Jae” you cut him off, suddenly more shakey than you’d like, “I think you should go,” he doesn’t listen stepping closer, “Nah come on- let me take you home,” he pleads palms open.

Before he can get close Yoongi steps Infront of you subtly keeping a hand on your arm to reassure you. “I’ll walk her home- don’t worry Jae,” he adds mockingly. “She’s safer with me anyway.”

You and Yoongi pass a ball back and forth, the last to leave as usual after that but he’s unusually silent. Until the streets go quiet and he finally lets his feelings spill onto the asphalt. “Wow, you really know how to pick them huh,”

You check the ball back to him, a little harder than Nessicary “You know that’s what my brother said about you when he first met you right?”

“What?” Yoongi dribbles the ball as he shakes his head, you can see him actually getting angry as he makes a three-pointer and misses by a longshot, you catch the rebound and pass it back. “your brother doesn't even know me- not really.”

“I know that Yoongi and believe me- I never would have let him come if I knew he was gonna like” you trail off, struggling to find the right words. Yoongi concentrates enough to make the shot finally and takes a step back to see if he can make the next one. You return the rebound again.

“If you knew he was gonna try to intimidate me? Try to stake a claim on you or something like you’re a fucking thing when you’re-” Yoongi breaks off, swallowing back his anger and shaking his head like he’s ridding himself of his fury, even though you can see it boiling in his dark eyes when he turns them on you.

“Don’t you know how frat boys treat pretty girls? or where you just naive enough to think that one could be different when they all silently allow their brothers to do what they want,”

You pass it back hard, and it hits Yoongi’s chest hard. stinging a little- “Don’t you dare call me nieve Yoongi, not when you’re being hypocritical as fuck” you argue- you know Yoongi isn’t really meaning to be mean, not at all.

And Yoongi just- givens a particularly hard pass to you the same way you just did to him and your arms don’t come up quick enough and it hits your face. It’s not the first time that you’ve ever been hit in the face by a basketball, you’ve had your fair share of bloody noses. And anyone who plays knows the particular not-quite-painfull- stinging sensation that makes shocked tears spark in your eyes.

Yoongi immediately rushes over to hold your head and apologize profusely and he Dabbs at your nose to get rid of the little bit of blood that's dripping out of your nose with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. Apologize tumbling out of his lips,

“Oh my god I’m so so sorry- please believe I didn’t mean to- fuck- I'm sorry” and you’re not angry- you know he didn’t mean it at all- that it was an accident you just weren't paying attention. And Yoongi is panicked looking down at you and cradling your face in his hands, brushing your baby hairs back away from your face and it’s not even really like that bad or hurts or everything, your face is just mostly numb.

You can't help it- you start laughing, and he looks down at you wide-eyed “oh my god you should have seen your face- you look like you just accidentally stepped on a pets tail or something- holy fuck Yoongi I'm fine-”

But then Yoongi leans in, his forehead against yours in the lit basketball court, closing his eyes and looking like he hates himself for hurting you even a little bit- even accidentally. He looks so upset with himself and that he’s hurt you. For all of your close moments, your almost relationship-esce tender moments you and Yoongi aren’t so physically close so often. Even though your laughing, he sighs all the tension going out of him. “not my fault you follow me around like a puppy or something- you're just so- you’ve got this-” he makes a frustrated noise, “god you’ve always got me so tongue-tied”

And you still for a moment, standing in the middle of the court, a little blush paints his cheeks as he realizes how close you are.

On the basketball court, with your nose bleeding and Yoongi looking at you with all that love he’s hidden on display, you realize that there shouldn’t be anything stopping you from nurturing that affection that he’s so blatantly showing right now, that he always does whether you acknowledge it or not.

And maybe he’s always shown you that, maybe it was always there in the way he walked you home, the way he checks to see that you’re alright whenever you take an elbow or fall during a game.

Tender and protective almost like Yoongi is your bodyguard or something. But unlike others, Yoongi knows you can handle yourself and he’s only there so you don't have to deal with it alone. He might be protective, but he’s never claimed ownership of you like others have.

For a moment the lights flicker and go out plunging the two of you into muted darkness, especially here, where the streetlights barely bleed. It’s not an unusual occurrence, the court is kind of old and shitty and it’s probably just the security guard being passive-aggressive to you and try to get you to leave early again.

In the darkness you tilt your head forward and kiss him, your lips slotting together. After he manages to overcome his shock his hand fists in your hair underneath the hood of your hoodie. His tongue briefly licks out to paint heat into your chest that blooms like the roses on his. Before you pull away and Yoongi’s so breathless from just the taste of you.

And then the lights come back on and he’s just shocked standing there while you take the ball and try to make the shot Yoongi couldn’t make failing at first because your hands are shaking a little.

Yoongi runs his hand over his face and through his hair and tries to stop himself from grinning and quiet the rapid pounding of his heart. You shoot a three-pointer and make it- “holy shit Y/n you-”

“You don’t have anything to worry about when it comes to other guys Yoongi” and he’s just standing there blushy and quiet. “if that's what that thing with Jaebaum was about,” you pass the ball back to him, and he huffs.

“It was more about him treating you like a possession but okay- fixate on that I guess,” you don’t buy his ire at all.

He walks you home and kisses you again on your stoop and quickly pulls the closure of your hoodie over your face and runs away. “You punk Yoongi!” you shout at him, waking up the neighbors- but he doesn’t care, his heart feels too light to be bogged down by anything like disapproving outsiders.

later that night when they’re selling on the street corner, Hoseok levels Yoongi’s never falling smile with a raised eyebrow “what’s got you so happy tonight?” and Yoongi just tilts his head back against the brick building and smiles at the sky, unable to keep it off his mouth now.

“Nothing man, nothing at all” and of course that's a lie- Yoongi’s whole body is light with how much of something this is, his thoughts tripping over with little snippets of you. God, he feels like a little kid, excited to see their crush the next day at school.

You only kiss when the lights go out, in the shadows of alleyways, hands ghosting over places too intimate for public and for even the street lights. safe in the darkness where no one can see either of you and you can just be Yoongi and Y/n. The city melts away along with all of its problems and leaving both of you alone.

You only kiss when he walks you home, or when you sneak him into your bedroom on the colder nights through the front door or up the fire escape. And he’ll press you into the sheets of your bed, his bare arms, and the black ink on his chest and his inky hair contrasting with the white sheets of your bed, and he touches you so softly, every second building to linger, to cherish, to love.

You only kiss him when he surprises you, like the night after he goes out to dinner with your older brother to try and impress him. Yoongi’s white button-down barely hides all his tattoo’s but he does take all the piercings out of his ears. To both of your surprise, he manages to not make a horrible impression and actually earn your brothers approval (but only a little).

He only kisses you when you steal his leather jacket- pulling you close by the lapels, or when you steal his thrasher hoodie and he doesn't even realize you have it until he sees you walking around campus with it on, and pulls you into the deserted bathroom on the third floor of the science building because for a quick make-out session.

Who knows maybe Min Yoongi really likes kissing you, maybe he just really really likes you too, maybe when you text at night Min Yoongi finds himself burying his smile into his pillow, texting you back, “goodnight sweetheart, can’t wait to see you tomorrow,”

For your first date, he takes you out to dinner and then to a bar that closes early but has a legit ball pit. Complete with disco balls, a bunch of fancy setups and Instagramable pastel pink floral walls, and serves it’s sangria in glass teapots.

It’s pricer than usual bars, but it’s worth it- to get giggly and tipsy with you and bother the other patrons by starting a war throwing the clear plastic balls that look like bubbles back and forth. You use an inflatable heart- complete with bright silver glitter to block his attack and tackle him into the pit, shocking a giggle out of his chest that seems to shimmer into the open air.

And he takes a photo of you laughing below him when he heaves you up and into a pile, giggling brightly too. You snap a photo of him too and he looks all harsh and grungy against the pastel background, lounged out like a jungle cat in his black ripped jeans and black teeshirt. his darkness juxtapositioned with all of the pink.

You end up printing out the photo and hanging it up by your mirror in your bathroom where you eventually hang little tickets from late-night rap shows that Yoongi takes you too- or the tickets for the free day at the local zoo and a few romcoms. Little memories of your times together that you can wake up and see, and keep a piece of him close that way.

He prints out your photo too and keeps it in his wallet. He doesn't take it out and look at it often, but sometimes when he knows you’re asleep and he’s still out on the chilly street, the fingerless gloves you got him for his birthday warming his hands. He’ll finger the edge of his wallet and the edge of the photo that sticks out a little, and smile to himself- imagining that you’re wrapped up warm in your bed, maybe curling up in one of his shirts that he’d lent you- you always say you sleep better in them.

And he thinks about maybe sneaking up to the fire escape that leads to your window when he’s done for the night, tapping out a hello on your window until you wake and let him into your warm embrace. Quiet and taking his shoes off by the window so that his heavy steps don’t alert your older brother in the room over.

And maybe he could cuddle you a little before class, relax into your arms for a few hours. The lack of sleep would be hell to pay for later- and really, Yoongi also has papers due and assignments to complete not to mention exams to study for that need his time if he wants to even think about graduating anytime soon or keeping his scholarship until then. But he indulges in the idea of it, all the same, closing his eyes and imagining it just for a minute when he feels that photo, letting his memory’s drift back to your first date.

Sometimes on the really cold evenings, you’ll take the train home instead of walking- even though it gives you less time than you usually have. you grab the last train home and sit close. He taps out a pattern on the back of your hand, your skin unmarked unlike his. Each of his knuckles is marked by a symbol for a royal flush.

A ten of clovers on his thumb, a jack of diamonds on his index, then a queen of spades, king of hearts, then the ace of spades on his pinky. The tattoos are newer, you’re pretty sure Yoongi didn’t have them when you first met.

“How do you have so many tattoo’s?” you ask, you know by now that Yoongi only deals drugs to pay his many bills that aren’t covered by his scholarship. Because he has too to survive and not because he particularly likes being apart of a gang. His copious amount of inc seems like too an expensive habit for him to keep if he’s paying for it out of pocket. Yoongi watches you trace over the marks on his knuckles.

“There’s this tattoo artist across town, he’s pretty good makes a half-decent living or would if his boyfriend didn’t have this like- rare disease or something. I’ve never really asked or looked it up- but anyway, their insurance doesn't cover it and it would be like thousands of dollars a month retail. But I get them a couple months supply at a time for like a quarter of that- and as long as I deliver it to them every few months, Namjoon lets me sit in his chair after hours as a thank you.”

“Didn’t realize you-” “dealt in medical stuff as well?” Yoongi asks, raising an eyebrow, not judgementally but really, anything there is a market for Yoongi’s employers have him sell. but you don’t talk about Yoongi’s drug dealing. the less you know about the gang the safer you are. You nod, and Yoongi sits back, pulling you a little closer, your stop is nearing, and he knows that he’s going to have to say goodbye to you soon after that.

“The first time I met him it was like- not great. He was so panicked didn’t look at all the type to be buying drugs either. But he stuck around and kept asking if I could get it until I could, and then I started delivering it to his place instead of having him come to me and like, you know how dangerous it is and like walking around with that amount of cash. It isn’t something you do if you’re smart or unprotected. And I think he just started giving me free ink because I cared enough to drop it off instead of having him come to me.”

You lean over and press a kiss to his cheek- “Min Yoongi- friendly neighborhood drug dealer- who would have thought you’d be so kind,” Yoongi tilts away at your teasing because really, by now you know just how gummy soft Yoongi is and how true the statement is.

He’s always checking in, and he’s kind of the older brother of sorts even to the others at the basketball court, always the first one to playfully shove the gangly limbed kid named Jungkook who's hung around the courts since forever (and has only recently sprouted up taller than him).

Or he’ll ask you and Jungkook’s grubby thin friend Taehyung (that sometimes comes to games sporting black eyes and leans into Jungkook like he’s the only thing keeping him up) if either of you wants something from the 7/11 across the street.

He’s always soft to some of the younger high school kids that come by and play. The ones that obviously don’t have good role models at home. And you know by the way Yoongi sometimes gets self-critical that he doesn't think of himself as a good role model by any means- but he is a good person.

The streets might have made him rough around the edges and fierce by necessity, but Min Yoongi has never and will never lose his kindness.

And maybe that's why you love him, why you feel so safe with him, why you smile every time you see him and why your heart beats quick whenever he looks at you like you’re the only people in the room. You know deep in your bones that Min Yoongi might not look it on the outside, that he carries the weight of what he does like a bulletproof vest and has more than a little baggage, but he’s a good man.

The first night he takes you back to his apartment he’s a little shy about it because he knows it’s basically a closet. It’s in the bad part of town too, but it’s mostly clean and at least it doesn't smell too much like mold. There's only a single wall separating the kitchen from the half room where his single bed is tucked. But he does have nice windows, they’re the only thing that drew him to the apartment, a good view of some neon lights across the street and a full glass tilted roof where it used to be a covered balcony.

The producing equipment that he’d saved up for and his school things pushed and piled on the desk in the opposite wall. his stacks and stacks of notebooks full of poetry turned lyrics that maybe he’ll never put a song to. You could probably reach them from the bed if you stretched out really far. Along with a keyboard that he’d won after he’d beat a DJ in a game of pool. His clothes sit in bins underneath his bed that he shoves and pulls his blanket over to try and hide the drabness of it.

But you don’t judge at all, you don’t mark on the frayed edge of Yoongi’s duvet, or on the dust gathering on the sill of the windows. Or the bars that block the view. You smile at the band posters on the wall and the movie poster by his bathroom and giggle when he turns on the colorful Christmas lights he’s strung up over his bed and he asks why you’re smiling.

“This room is so you Yoongi- like I don’t even know how to explain it but it’s like I just walked into you- you know?” Yoongi does know, and his chest warms with the thought of this, this place is his home and only his safe haven (besides the court). It’s the representation of his everything. Maybe a little grey, a little worn around the edges but still comfortable, still warm.

You just stand there and look out the windows at the street corner below while Yoongi boils some milk for hot chocolate. And when it’s set he holds around your waist and hooks his chin over your shoulder, swaying slightly to the music that always lives in him while you look out the window, quiet and contemplative.

“I know it’s not much but you could move in if you want after we graduate- or maybe get a bigger apartment together and pool our resources for something nicer- if you want too.” you’ve been together for about a year now- even if the beginning of your relationship was a little more loosely bound.

“Really you’d want me to live with you?” Yoongi shrugs and blushes and you kiss his cheek sweetly making him flush a darker red. And Unlike how he would if he was with anyone else, he doesn't turn away or try to hide how he looks at you, so wanting and soft, almost hopeful.

He leans his cheek against your head and sways a little, tasting the lyrics and the beat on his tongue he would write about this moment- maybe they’re nothing- maybe there shitting and sentimental- I showed you the drabby parts of me and you told me it was enough, we felt our love with simple feelings, simple people all the same, and I know I’ll love you forever if only you would stay.

“Of course I want you to move in sweetheart.”

You start to sleep over some nights- the nights when your brother has to go on trips for work or it gets too late for you to walk back. Yoongi doesn't live in the safest area and he never lets you walk home alone, but he does try to limit your exposure to his world. The drug dealers on the corners giving him nod as he passes, but he does catch them looking at you- their stares confused and lingering.

It makes Yoongi worried. He starts picking you up from class too just in case.

You still play basketball late at night, and sometimes, when your both sit on the sidelines, you trace his tattoos and he tugs at your ponytail out and at the end of the night so that your hair falls around your face, Yoongi always walks you home. And maybe you steal his hoodie every night so that you can sleep surrounded by the smell of him.

But then, a few weeks after he finally graduates (you take him out to dinner to celebrate and get him the very very nice gift of soundproof headphones since he was still using the shitty earbuds that came with his phone) Yoongi doesn’t come to basketball.

Thoughts who know him well linger about for a few minutes after you’d usually start, but he doesn't show. You’re distracted the whole time, casting a glance to the gate to see if he’ll appear there, checking your phone when you take breaks until you give in and text him.

He doesn’t answer his texts when you send him one or pick up your phone when you call. And you’re starting to get worried when you walk home. Of course, you know what Yoongi’s had to pick up more “hours” whatever that means in the wake of his graduation and therefore the expiration of his scholarship.

You’ve thought about the possibility of him being arrested before, waking up in a cold sweat thinking about it. You try not to let Yoongi know how much it stresses you out. Your brother has told you more than once, “He’s going to get himself killed one day” or “he’s going to break your heart.”

but you always reply, “You don’t know him at all, he’s not like that, and he’s safe when he’s out- he’s always cautious,”

You walk the whole way home peering down every alleyway and knawing on your lip in worry. Wondering if maybe you should stop by his apartment and see if he’s there- after you drop off your books of course. Only to find Yoongi sitting on the stoop to your apartment building. He gets up with a pained groan when he sees you, knees cracking, his shattered phone dark and left on the stoop next to him. You drop your bag when Yoongi looks up and you catch a glimpse of his face underneath his hoody. Your school things spilling onto the sidewalk

“I swear I’m fine- It’s only cuz I was outnumbered that they got me so bad, my nose isn’t even broken.” he’s sitting on the toilet with you in between his legs dabbing at his split lip while he holds a bag of peas to his black eye and alternates laying on it his bruised collar bone. You’d been mostly silent since you saw him, but- when you see how gingerly he’s holding his battered body. And suddenly you’re crying, barely containing your sobs as they spill over your lips and you drink in him, thinking about the possibility of him landing himself in the hospital or an early grave.

Yoongi wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, burying his face in his sweatshirt you’re wearing. It smells like a piece of you and a piece of him. “I’m okay baby girl really, please don’t cry over me” you smoothing your shaking hands up and through his hair. You pull away from him a little. It breaks Yoongi’s heart to see you crying because of him.

“I can’t do this Yoongi, I’m always be worried if you’re going to be beaten up or arrested or shot at, I can’t be with you if I don’t know you’re safe.”

He swallows, blinking through his own tears- but really the choice he makes is instinctual- he would never even think of doing anything else. “What if I quit then, what if I stopped and found another job somewhere else- somewhere safer.”

You pull away looking at his face, seeing his brutal honesty the truth there. Yoongi has never been one to lie to you so if he’s saying it- he means it. “I’m serious about you, about us, I-” neither of you have dropped the L-word yet and all of a sudden Yoongi’s throat feels like he’s closing up because he’s never loved anyone who hasn’t left. But you’re worth it- you're worth the risk of shattering his heart.

“I love you so much, and I want to be with you, and if this- this is your deal-breaker, then I’ll stop.” You nod, and Yoongi reaches up to wipe away your tears with both of his thumbs. His hands rough from basketball, and the little scrapes on his palms, but still comforting in the way you can feel his intention in every touch. And leans his forehead against yours, you stretch your hand back to shut off the lights and kiss him in the darkness.

You’re glad your brother is saying late for work and leaving early because you can pull Yoongi through your dark apartment and into your room as long as you’re quiet. You kiss every bruise on his body from his cheekbone to his bruised knuckles, sitting over his lap in just a large white t-shirt. Your bareness pressed all to him and Yoongi touches you gently like he would a treasure.

Yoongi makes love to you and every stuttering movement of his hips is a swan song to anyone else he might love- because you’re it for him. His gentle hands smooth over your hips as you lose yourself among the covers, and his careful but firm touches.

He lets himself taste your skin, and luxuriate in the softness plucked delicately between his lips like the strings of an instrument, to suck your blood to the surface in a melody of red and pink. Gentle and slow and lingering like he’s letting you know that there is no rush for this like he’s staying like he’ll do anything you ask. He wants to be with you until you don’t want him anymore.

And you let him know you’ll always want him with every sigh, every bitten back moan of his name, and every scratch down his back that you want to mark him and keep him as yours as well. You let him know you’ll stay with every kiss from your red mouth a brand, and every sigh and keen a promise for the endless time left. You’re marked as well- even if he can’t see it you’re his and he’s yours, as sure and as permanent as the tattoo’s on his skin.

Yoongi cleans up his act. Talks to the gang and they let him quit as long as he agrees to still occasionally sell at college parties- and it’s enough for you. You move into Yoongi’s apartment much to the ire of your older brother, the semester after he graduates and a semester before you do.

And though it might be small it becomes your place, the place where your love takes full form and is stitched into every inch. You get a few plants and hang them by the windows and a small two-person table set into the wall where you have your meals together- Yoongi teaches you how to cook in your pajamas, a freshly-minted pop song crackly from the old Bluetooth speaker. You hang hooks for your coffee mugs underneath the cabinets to save some space.

Yoongi hasn’t had a family in years, his own parents and older brother disowned him when he left for Seoul to try his hand at music, and he only occasionally speaks to his brother on his birthday or Christmas.

He’s only been able to go to college and get a degree because of his own pure stubbornness and having good enough grades in high school and on the entrance exam to get a scholarship.

He’s only had himself to rely on for the last few years, and that changes almost overnight. He starts to build a family with you there, even if it’s just the two of you, you still are a family.

You’re the first person he sees when he wakes up in the morning, nestled into his chest all soft and delicate. You’re the first person he calls when he gets any sort of good news. The person he surprises with bulgogi on Friday afternoons just because.

At your graduation, Yoongi shouts and cheers you on, louder than any parent would, your brother laughing next to him. He may not approve of Yoongi entirely- but he respects Yoongi for how much he cares about you and how much he tries. Though the approval there might be tenuous, Yoongi makes it clear that he isn’t going anywhere.

You don’t mind the small bed in his apartment because you know you’d end up lying that close anyway. The large duvet spilling onto the floor as you curl up underneath it and pretend that you’re two bears in hibernation, chests and bones aligned all perfectly and comfortably, everything else outside of your little cave dangerous and frightening but it’s quiet and safe in each other's arms.

He gets you special tickets to a behind the scenes tour of a new drama that's coming out as your graduation present. And he holds your hand the entire tour, drinking in your wide-eyed enthusiasm the same way you do when you hear his music.

He gets a less dangerous job as a bartender at a club that the gang owns (because they’re still his friends even if they’re less close and see each other a little less. It’s not ideal but he’ll take what he can get until he manages to find a job where he can use his degree).

You finally meet Hoseok just after Christmas when Yoongi lets it slip that he doesn't have anyone to spend the new year with. And though he might be surprisingly upbeat there is the same darkness there that you recognize from when you met Yoongi, The kind that has little faith in the world but a whole lot of hope for change.

And Yoongi really thinks it's sweet- you treat Hoseok like you might a little brother even though he’s older than you by a few years. You make an effort to invite Hoseok out for dinner more often, and when Yoongi asks you say, “He seems a little too skinny, like no one’s taking care of him.”

Eventually, you convince him to stop dealing drugs as well, and Yoongi gets him a job working as a bartender soon after he gets the hang of it himself. And Yoongi spends most nights cleaning glasses with Hoseok endlessly flirting with any pretty girl who walks in the door. And Hoseok just laughs any time they try to flirt with Yoongi- because yeah he has someone waiting for him at home.

And then one random Tuesday he’s making jokes with a guy at the bar in an expensive suit jacket, and he realizes fate might just have it out for him- in a very good way.

It’s kind of his job to chat with the patrons when it’s not a DJ night. The booth in the corner sits and taunts Yoongi with the promise of someday- and Yoongi swears to himself that he will work his way into that booth one day, with sheer stubbornness and hard work.

He’s just joking around and kind of making fun of the guy when he gets on the topic of music and Yoongi says “You’re joking if you think that's a good song the kicks all wrong and the chorus has a wonky beat that just doesn't fit.”

The guy laughs and looks at Yoongi with sharp appraising eyes and says “I’m the one that produced that song boy” and then laughs some more when Yoongi freezes, flushing hard and stuttering out an apology. And holy fuck- this guy is basically what Yoongi’s dreamed of being since he was a teenager and first discovered his love for Music they talk more about it, and Yoongi tries not to be excited or drop his mixed tape or anything- he plays it cool as he can.

The next night he brings Yoongi the raw track on a drive and says, “I want to see how you’d alter it- try and impress me.” and Yoongi does, works on it day and night for a few weeks.

And you let him- come and stand by his desk and give him coffee when you get up to go to work just after he gets back (you’re only in between grad school and college now- but you’re working to save up money so that you don’t have to take out so many loans) and when you get back from your shift at a coffee shot you find him still hunched over his computer dead asleep, and sleepily tug him into bed for a few more hours sleep.

Yoongi hands over the finished track the next time he see’s the producer at the bar and he calls Yoongi the next day and offers him an internship. Yoongi thanks him for the opportunity profusely and promises him that he won’t disappoint. And when he gets off the phone he calls you- bugs you until you pick up and when you get home you jump and scream and dance around his small apartment. You both go to the convenience store and get a bottle of cheap wine and some melon ice pops and stay up after his shift to watch the sunrise.

And Yoongi can’t help but think that if you had never made him quit his job dealing drugs if he never started playing pick up games and met you- he never would have gotten the job and the bar and now he wouldn’t be here, on the precipice of everything he’d ever dreamed of.

well almost everything, because when he looks over at you, tipsy sitting against the window with a pillow under your butt grinning and tipping your shoulder sweetly into his- he thinks that being a producer is only half of what he wanted.

You make love on the floor of your bedroom- even though there’s the bed right next to you because your love is the kind that need not be confined to a single place (in Yoongi’s flowery words) even if he’s the one that ends up with rug burn on his knees later.

There are other conversations that happen in front of those windows, with kisses pressed to your lips in total darkness if it weren't for the neon lights. “do you think we should move?” “give it a few more weeks love,” he says, pressed between a kiss on your shoulder.

“you’ve been hired for over a year Yoongi- they’re gonna give you your own solo project any day now,” you snort. “is it weird that I can’t help but worry I'll be fired or something?” he holds onto you tighter.

You sooth him with a hand down his arm, your words velvet soft in the darkness, “no not at all- it’s just that the studio complained that a line of your sheet music got slipped into my rough draft last week, and maybe things like that wouldn't happen if we didn’t share the same desk.” a laugh shocks out of him “fuck we need a larger place.”

And then months later, when you’re thinking about moving, and Yoongi has his heart set on this one bedroom with small office space and a killer view over the river- expensive but still kinda tight. And you can’t help but think...you might need more than one room at one point in the future.

“did you ever think about having kids?” you ask, nervously drumming your fingers on the counter his hair curling against the nape of his neck. He’s been growing it longer recently, no longer does he get it done in the jagged undercut that he used to.

His sleep shirt is one of his old ones, no matter how big his paycheck has gotten Yoongi will always sleep in his threadbare basketball shorts and a washed-out tee. It’s almost like when he falls asleep he goes back to that same boy you first met years ago. With too many tattoos and not enough hope that his dreams would ever come true.

His eyes go wide over his cup of coffee, and he sets it down before he even takes a sip, mulling over your question for a moment before he answers “Only with you, why?”

Years later, after your screenplay gets picked up by a popular channel. when you’ve long left behind your tiny box of an apartment and traded in for an upgraded space closer to where both of you work. Yoongi is nominated (and wins) an award for a song he produced for an idol group.

You accompany him to an award show with his same tattooed arms around your waits, though the ink has faded a little bit. He still goes back to the same shop he used to though he pays now that he has enough money. Yoongi has even steered enough people (rappers and other producers) towards the shop that the tattoo artist can charge more and actually afford legitimate prescriptions no longer has to live through shady backroom deals.

A few more tattoos have been added, the first line of the first song he ever produced that made into onto an album, a little lightbulb for you, and more roses added to his chest. Lacing their way up his neck ending just below the date inked onto his neck- your anniversary.

And when he’s asked about you by reporters he introduces you as his muse. There is no small amount of fanfare for a well-known music producer and a screenwriter that's recently gained notoriety for her gang inspired drama. The bulbs of cameras flash, dizzying if it weren't for Yoongi’s steady arm around your waist.

“We’ve been together for years, and she’s always stood by me and encouraged me to be the best version of myself and follow my dreams. I know I wouldn’t be where I am if I didn’t have her which is why this award is as much for me as it is for her”

And the reporters clamor over themselves to ask you questions too asking you about the open ending of your book, if there is any hope for a sequel of your drama, and what the open ending meant. “I think the best thing about stories is that you get to wait and see how they end, so I won’t let anything particularly telling go before it’s time for you to see it,” you say, teasing even though everyone knows that none of the actors that starred in your drama have schedules for the next season- and are likely slated for a continuation even if your company hasn’t announced the sequel yet.

You and Yoongi take your seats to the side, but in the front row. During the award show, at the moment when the lights go low just before the idol group that Yoongi produces for starts to perform on stage, you and Yoongi tilt your faces together. And it feels like hello- like all of the time before that you’ve kissed in the dark when your lips meet.

The moments when you’ve both found each other in the darkness, met in the middle, to be nothing other than what you are. Both you and Yoongi are brought down to your barest forms, just two people in love and better for it. Stronger together than you are apart.

The lights go up, you and Yoongi clap harder than anyone in the stands as the starting notes fade in and the choreography starts as well, another song that Yoongi’s produced, one of many in the future

And maybe no one would know you’ve kissed if it weren't for your lipstick on his mouth.

#yoongi x reader #bts drabble #bts fanfic #bts mafia au #bts gang au #min yoongi x reader #suga x reader #min yoongi #min yoongi fluff #min yoongi angst #bts fanfiction #bts fluff #bts angst #bts #bangtan boys #bangtan #bts scenario #bts reactions

8K notes · View notes

husbandograveyard · 4 years ago

Text

Wootwoot! We made it you guys! May 4th is my one-year anniversary on Tumblr. With some ups and downs and over 300 requests written, I'm gonna go ahead and say it was a successful year!

Monday until next Sunday I will do another Mini HC event, like we did for valentine! Open for all my fandoms, with mystery prompts to choose from.

Until then, I wanted to do a sleepover event. Unlimited asks and interactions for the weekend cause I feel like I haven't talked to a lot of you in a long while!

You can send me any classic sleepover question

Kiss, marry, kill

Would you rather

Top 3/5/10...

Questions about me

Questions about my anime, writings...

Theories (keep em spoiler free though!)

For this event, I will engage in a little bit of selfship talk if anyone were to be interested. Ask me about my F/o's and tell me about yours! Dynamics, habits... anything!

Questions about OCs

If you need some inspiration, I have included a couple of lists below the cut with questions id be 100% okay with.

Also, if you just want to chat, tell me about your week, a funny thing that happened to you, or a fun fact (i love fun facts especially if it's creepy or an animal fact)... A N Y T H I N G is welcome! There is no limit to your asks, spam me if you want! ♡

Look forward to talking to you guys!

Ps, I'll tag these #1yearSleepover if you want to block something against spam

Questions for OCs - Specify which one! Taken from here

1. How many different places have they lived?

2. What is their dream vacation?

3. What is their favorite color?

4. What is their favorite book?

5. Have they ever cheated on anyone before?

6. Have they ever been cheated on?

7. How many partners have they had?

8. What is their favorite food?

9. Are they a liar? Are they good at lying?

10. Introvert or Extrovert?

11. Have they ever been arrested and why?

12. Who would they sacrifice their life for?

13. What are their spending habits?

14. Do they like hot or cold temperatures better?

15. Are they religious?

16. If they could describe themself in one sentence, what would they say?

17. Do they have any overused catchphrases?

18. What makes them laugh?

19. Have they ever lost anyone close to them? How did it affect them?

20. Do they have a fast reaction time, or slow?

21. How do they react to praise?

22. How do they react to criticism?

23. Are they indoorsy or outdoorsy?

24. What are their biggest pet peeves?

25. Do they have any type of handicaps? How do they manage them?

Other ask game - taken from here

1: when you have cereal, do you have more milk than cereal or more cereal than milk?

2: do you like the feeling of cold air on your cheeks on a wintery day?

3: what random objects do you use to bookmark your books?

4: how do you take your coffee/tea?

5: are you self-conscious of your smile?

6: do you keep plants?

7: do you name your plants?

8: what artistic medium do you use to express your feelings?

9: do you like singing/humming to yourself?

10: do you sleep on your back, side, or stomach?

11: what’s an inner joke you have with your friends?

12: what’s your favorite planet?

13: what’s something that made you smile today?

14: if you were to live with your best friend in an old flat in a big city, what would it look like?

15: go google a weird space fact and tell us what it is!

16: what’s your favorite pasta dish?

17: what color do you really want to dye your hair?

18: tell us about something dumb/funny you did that has since gone down in history between you and your friends and is always brought up.

19: do you keep a journal? what do you write/draw/ in it?

20: what’s your favorite eye color?

21: talk about your favorite bag, the one that’s been to hell and back with you and that you love to pieces.

22: are you a morning person?

23: what’s your favorite thing to do on lazy days where you have 0 obligations?

24: is there someone out there you would trust with every single one of your secrets?

25: what’s the weirdest place you’ve ever broken into?

26: what are the shoes you’ve had for forever and wear with every single outfit?

27: what’s your favorite bubblegum flavor?

28: sunrise or sunset?

29: what’s something really cute that one of your friends does and is totally endearing?

30: think of it: have you ever been truly scared?

31: what is your opinion of socks? do you like wearing weird socks? do you sleep with socks? do you confine yourself to white sock hell? really, just talk about socks.

32: tell us a story of something that happened to you after 3AM when you were with friends.

33: what’s your fave pastry?

34: tell us about the stuffed animal you kept as a kid. what is it called? what does it look like? do you still keep it?

35: do you like stationary and pretty pens and so on? do you use them often?

36: which band’s sound would fit your mood right now?

37: do you like keeping your room messy or clean?

38: tell us about your pet peeves!

39: what color do you wear the most?

40: think of a piece of jewelry you own: what’s it’s story? does it have any meaning to you?

41: what’s the last book you remember really, really loving?

42: do you have a favorite coffee shop? describe it!

43: who was the last person you gazed at the stars with?

44: when was the last time you remember feeling completely serene and at peace with everything?

45: do you trust your instincts a lot?

46: tell us the worst pun you can think of.

47: what food do you think should be banned from the universe?

48: what was your biggest fear as a kid? is it the same today?

49: do you like buying CDs and records? what was the last one you bought?

50: what’s an odd thing you collect?

51: think of a person. what song do you associate with them?

52: what are your favorite memes of the year so far?

53: have you ever watched the rocky horror picture show? heathers? beetlejuice? pulp fiction? what do you think of them?

54: who’s the last person you saw with a true look of sadness on their face?

55: what’s the most dramatic thing you’ve ever done to prove a point?

56: what are some things you find endearing in people?

57: go listen to bohemian rhapsody. how did it make you feel? did you dramatically reenact the lyrics?

58: who’s the wine mom and who’s the vodka aunt in your group of friends? why?

59: what’s your favorite myth?

60: do you like poetry? what are some of your faves?

61: what’s the stupidest gift you’ve ever given? the stupidest one you’ve ever received?

62: do you drink juice in the morning? which kind?

63: are you fussy about your books and music? do you keep them meticulously organized or kinda leave them be?

64: what color is the sky where you are right now?

65: is there anyone you haven’t seen in a long time who you’d love to hang out with?

66: what would your ideal flower crown look like?

67: how do gloomy days where the sky is dark and the world is misty make you feel?

68: what’s winter like where you live?

69: what are your favorite board games?

70: have you ever used a ouija board?

71: what’s your favorite kind of tea?

72: are you a person who needs to note everything down or else you’ll forget it?

73: what are some of your worst habits?

74: describe a good friend of yours without using their name or gendered pronouns.

75: tell us about your pets!

76: is there anything you should be doing right now but aren’t?

77: pink or yellow lemonade?

78: are you in the minion hateclub or fanclub?

79: what’s one of the cutest things someone has ever done for you?

80: what color are your bedroom walls? did you choose that color? if so, why?

81: describe one of your friend’s eyes using the most abstract imagery you can think of.

82: are/were you good in school?

83: what’s some of your favorite album art?

84: are you planning on getting tattoos? which ones?

85: do you read comics? what are your faves?

86: do you like concept albums? which ones?

87: what are some movies you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives?

88: are there any artistic movements you particularly enjoy?

89: are you close to your parents?

90: talk about your one of you favorite cities.

91: where do you plan on traveling this year?

92: are you a person who drowns their pasta in cheese or a person who barely sprinkles a pinch?

93: what’s the hairstyle you wear the most?

94: who was the last person you know to have a birthday?

95: what are your plans for this weekend?

96: do you install your computer updates really quickly or do you procrastinate on them a lot?

97: myer briggs type, zodiac sign, and hogwarts house?

98: when’s the last time you went hiking? did you enjoy it?

99: list some songs that resonate to your soul whenever you hear them.

100: if you were presented with two buttons, one that allows you to go 5 years into the past, the other 5 years into the future, which one would you press? why?

#sleepover #aksgames #1YearSleepover #scheduled post

16 notes · View notes

closetfanfictionauthor · 3 years ago

Text

in which matthias does not pick up any hints and nina decides to push him to the edge so he'll make a move.

Matthias Helvar was very much infatuated with one Nina Zenik. Nina knew it. Her customers at her coffee shop knew it. Their friends knew it. Their professors knew it. The university librarians knew it. Matthias didn't.

Men.

But Nina had the patience of a saint and so she waited. For days. Weeks. Months.

It's important to note that while Nina had the patience of a saint, she was not a saint herself. And she wasn't interested in waiting until she was an old maid before Matthias realized the filthy things she would let him do to her.

And so she took things into her own hands in a very much Nina fashion.

A small dose of jealousy was good for all men, as far as she was concerned. Matthias deserved a larger helping than she normally recommended for the frustration he'd worked her into over the past few months.

Her first partner in crime in her endeavour was one Kaz Brekker, a poor choice, but Nina had to start somewhere. For one, he didn't smile. Or wink. Or do much of anything with his face. In fact, in all the times Nina had known Kaz, she was quite sure she'd never seen him express any sort of emotion.

The first attempt occurred on a Monday while she was working at her cafe. Nina's boss had been warned in advance of what she was doing and had gladly turned a blind eye.

"As long as we're making money, do what you want Nina dear," they'd said and disappeared.

Matthias was sitting at a table in the middle of the room, in direct view of Nina, while she was working behind her counter. His gaze had passed over Kaz when he'd strutted into the shop and then pinned the man in place after five minutes passed and he was still at the front with Nina.

And then his gaze passed over Nina and Kaz after ten minutes had passed and Kaz was still there.

"Kaz, I'm begging you here. You gotta give me something to work with," Nina gritted out through her wide smile. She batted her eyelashes at Kaz and trailed one hand over his arm and up to fiddle with the collar of his shirt. Kaz tensed underneath her touch. His breath came a little shorter, and if she wasn't as close to him as she was, Nina would've missed the slight changes herself. She could, however, see Matthias tense out of the corner of her eye.

"I'm not an especially funny man," Kaz replied in that even tone of his.

"Boy, I'll say," Nina said. "You know how talented I have to be to act as if you've told me the funniest joke in the world. Come on, try for me."

Kaz was unmoved.

"I'll give you five kruge?"

A slow blink.

"It'll make Matthias want to kill you?"

Between Nina inhaling and exhaling, Kaz transformed into a different man right before her eyes. The tension melted from his always stiff shoulders. Gone was his military straight posture, instead bending towards Nina.

"Should've started with that, Nina darling," Kaz said, his voice suddenly two octaves lower. Paired with the lopsided smile that spread across Kaz's face, and Nina was left momentarily speechless.

"That's-that's…wow," Nina stuttered. "Is this what Inej has to put up with?"

"Only on very special occasions. I don't like to smile. It contorts the face unnecessarily," Kaz replied, his regular sternness appearing briefly before he pushed it away again.

"Where is Inej?" Nina asked as she trailed her fingers across her collarbone, a move she knew regularly worked on men to attract their notice downwards. Kaz's eyes stayed firmly focused on her face.

"She's got an exam for international law coming up that she's studying for in the library," Kaz replied. "Which reminds me, I have a group project to work on."

"What about your other group members, surely they can manage without you," Nina said as she flicked back her hair, a move that brought attention to her chest. She could feel the heat from Matthias's glare all the way across the shop. She couldn't help but grin even wider.

A sharp crack caught the attention of everyone in the room. Kaz turned around and Nina looked over his shoulder to see Matthias at his table. Pencil snapped in half. He let out a string of swears as he grabbed his bag and aggressively rifled through it, looking for a new pencil to write with.

Kaz turned back to her as if nothing had happened and leaned over Nina to whisper in her ear as she twirled a strand of hair around her finger and giggled. "This project is worth half my mark and if those imbeciles I'm forced to call partner's cock it up, I'm going to have them buried somewhere no one will find them."

"If this is what Inej is subjected to, I don't envy her," Nina said, leaning in to whisper into Kaz's ear. She never knew what Kaz would've said in response because at that moment Matthias pushed back his chair with a loud scrape, slung his bag over his shoulder, glaring at Kaz the whole time, and marched out the front door.

Kaz leaned back, one arm braced against the counter as he watched Matthias's large back retreating. "I think my work is done here. Always a pleasure working with you Zenik."

***

Matthias was a creature of habit, which was unfortunate for him, as Nina had his routine memorized and used it to her advantage.

Jesper proved a much more enthusiastic actor. But then again, Jesper regularly irritated everyone to distraction, so it wasn't much of a stretch.

Nina was seated facing the entry to the library, where she knew any second Matthias would walk through the door. Jesper right on cue came dashing into the library, made sure to knock into Matthias on his way in, and then bounded over to Nina. Matthias was still glaring after Jesper's back when the boy in question slung an arm across Nina's shoulder and kissed her on the cheek, dangerously close to her mouth, before taking the seat next to her.

She saw Matthias freeze where he was as he stared at the two of them. Nina threw back her head and let out a laugh as Jesper slouched in his seat, his other arm thrown across her shoulders, pulling her into his side.

"I didn't know you had such a performance in you," Nina said.

"I dare you to find someone out there who wouldn't jump at the opportunity to piss off Matthias," Jesper replied.

Nina made a big show of looking around and then acting as if she'd spotted Matthias. She gave him her biggest smile and waved him over. He stared at her for so long she was almost certain he would turn around and ignore her. But eventually, with the air of a man who had cinder blocks tied to his feet, Matthias stomped over to their table and let his bag slide off his shoulder.

She pretended to giggle as if Jesper had said something hilarious. "Be nice, he's just gruff."

Jesper nuzzled into the crook of her neck, smiling against her skin and whispered, "He's an idiot."

"He is not and you know it," Nina said, trying not to let her temper rise.

"He still hasn't figured out you're mad for him," Jesper pointed out.

"Not everyone is a flirt like we are."

"Matthias!" Jesper exclaimed with a wide grin as the broad-shouldered man violently pulled out the chair across from them and sat down. Jesper had a hand on Nina's neck and was gently massaging the tense muscles there.

Matthias gave a grunt in response. His eyes locked on Jesper's hand as it kneaded Nina's soft skin.

Jesper acted as if he hadn't noticed, and kept going. Jesper could've declared he planned to plant an explosive in the library, and he doubted Matthias would've heard him.

"My da's coming to visit," Jesper said.

"Mhmm," Matthias agreed.

"I figured I might show him around the city."

"Hmm."

"And did I forget to mention I'm getting married!"

"Congratulations."

"I was thinking of having it on a floating barge going down the river."

"Wow."

"Kaz might even agree to wear a dress."

"Definitely."

"Although of course I'll have to skin a bag full of kittens before he'll do it."

"Necessary yes."

Jesper kept going as Matthias refused to look away from Nina's neck. Jesper's hand moved across her shoulders, kneading at the skin there. Nina let out a sigh. Matthias stiffened in his seat.

"Maybe I should accompany you when you show your dad around," Nina said in a breathy voice, her head tilting as Jesper continued to knead. Matthias's eyes were hungry as they roved over her neck. Jesper's grin widened as he imagined Matthias was likely becoming very uncomfortable right about now.

Jesper leaned in close to her face so that Matthias had no choice but to look at him and said, "You know, maybe you're right Nina darling, hospitality is most certainly," and here his gaze wandered down to her exposed cleavage and then locked on Matthias, "one of your stronger assets."

There was a small crack as Matthias broke off a piece of the wooden table.

"Mmm," Nina agreed and let her head fall back, exposing her throat and closing her eyes. The look on Matthias's face when it snapped to the smug look on Jesper's face was murderous. If looks could kill, Jesper reckoned he would've already been gruesomely dismembered.

If only Matthias wasn't such an honest man, people wouldn't make it a hobby to get under his skin. He leaned forward and looked to be about three seconds away from lunging across the table and wrapping his large hands around Jesper's skinny neck.

And everything probably would've de-escalated if Nina, in that moment, hadn't moaned while her head was back and said, "that's the spot Jesper, yes."

Jesper and Matthias were banned from the library for the rest of the semester.

***

There were not enough words to describe the level of irritation that Nina had reached. How much farther was she going to be forced to go with Matthias before he finally snapped? The man was constantly on the edge of giving in and doing what she knew he wanted as much as her, and yet he just wouldn't give in.

She had to get more drastic. And if this attempt didn't work, then Nina was going to jump him in his bed in the middle of the night. Enough was enough. A girl needed release, and he was going to give it to her, screw his honour.

It took place in a club. The music was thumping. Nina could feel it vibrating in her bones, and could barely make out the words that Wylan was yelling. It was too dark to see much of anything, but Nina made sure she would be easy to spot when Matthias eventually found them.

"Nina, I don't think this is a good idea," Wylan yelled, as his eyes darted around anxiously.

"I'm not asking you to have sex with me right here in front of everyone," Nina yelled back.

"I still don't like it, Nina. I mean, have you seen Matthias," Wylan replied. "The man could snap me in half."

"You let me worry about Matthias. Now touch my boob, Wylan."

"Isn't there something else I could do instead?" Wylan asked desperately, his eyes glancing back to the door to the men's bathroom.

"Wylan."

"Can't I just put my hands on your waist?"

"Touch the boob."

"Nina-"

"You said you were willing to help make him jealous, didn't you?" Nina demanded.

"I mean, yes-"

"Then touch my titty. It's just a boob, Wylan, I'm not asking you to marry me here. Just cup the boob."

Nina clamped her hand down on Wylan's neck and yanked him down until his forehead was resting against hers. She placed one hand of hisi on the small of her back and the other on her waist.

"Nina, he'll be back any minute," Wylan hissed.

"That's the point."

And bless Matthias, for the man always seemed to be on cue, even though he didn't know it. In that moment he exited the bathroom. And because Nina could sense the presence of that man like it was her sixth sense, she only had time to tell Wylan, "I'll make it up to you," and then gently pressed her lips to his.

The poor boy gave a start in surprise, but Nina had a steel grip on his neck and kept him in place. It was dark enough that Matthias couldn't see Nina speak against Wylan's lips and tell him, "Now take the hand at my waist and slowly slide it up to my boob."

"Nina, I can feel him stripping the skin from my body with his eyes," Wylan responded against her lips. Nina could do nothing but hum in agreement, as loudly as she could, to make sure Matthias heard it. Wylan's hand moved at a snail's pace from the swell of her hips, past the dip of her waist, and up to her breast, where he hesitated for a moment before finally letting it rest on the swell.

"You owe me for this," Wylan said seconds before he was yanked off of Nina by a fuming Matthias.

"You are in public," Matthias snapped at the two of them. Wylan had his hands up in front of his chest in surrender. The second Matthias took his eyes off Wylan, the boy disappeared into the crowd. Nina couldn't help but feel smug. Triumphant.

"And what about it?" she demanded, taking a step towards Matthias.

"People can see you," he barked at her, taking a step closer.

"Good. Maybe I want people to see," Nina snapped defiantly and took another step closer until she was chest to chest with him. "Maybe I want people to think I'm spoken for."

She stared into his eyes and said, "Maybe I want to put on a show."

Matthias's pupils were already blown, but at Nina's words, they overtook what little colour was left of his irises. He stiffened, but couldn't stop the urge to sway towards her.

"It's inappropriate," his voice was gravelly and lower than before.

"Is it? Or is it only inappropriate because you're the one watching instead of the one participating," Nina said, and stepped closer still until she was chest to chest with Matthias. He clenched his jaw and looked down at her, unable to look away as she looked him up and down and then licked her lips when her eyes met his again.

"I don't-" Matthias choked out.

"In that case, let me go find Wylan and we can pick up-" she interrupted, and abruptly turned her back on Matthias and stepped away.

She hadn't managed even a step before Matthias's arm wrapped around her waist and in the blink of an eye, Nina found her back pressed to a wall and Matthias pressed up against every inch of her front. He was bent over her, his body blocking out the rest of the club.

"No," he said with finality.

"No, what?" Nina asked. She pressed one hand to his chest, feeling the hard muscle underneath as she explored and then slowly wrapped her arm around his back, and then the other one joined until she could spread both palms on his back and pull him closer. He was so solid and so warm. Nina desperately wished they were alone and with far fewer clothes on.

"No, you're not going to Wylan," Matthias replied. He seemed equally incapable of keeping his hands off of her. His arm was still wrapped around her waist, his large hand spanned from the small of her back to her hip. Nina's heart stuttered when he gave it a squeeze, tilting her pelvis towards his and bringing her even closer.

Nina slowly slid one arm from his back, over his chest, and around his neck. "Mmm, it doesn't have to be Wylan. I can always find someone else."

"No," Matthias snapped. His free arm touched the arm wrapped around his neck, followed it to Nina's shoulder and then slid it down until his hand skimmed her breast. Nina was breathing so hard, and her heart was pounding so fast, she thought she would have a heart attack and die right there.

"Why not, you don't want me, right?" Nina breathed as she pulled herself closer still. She wasn't the only one having trouble breathing. Matthias looked as if he was about to have an asthma attack. He slid a leg in between Nina's as he gave another squeeze around the waist. Nina's breath stuttered as she gave a roll of her hips and watched a shudder pass through Matthias.

He nodded his head in agreement as his other hand covered her breast and he idly passed a thumb over her nipple. Nina gasped and couldn't stop herself from arching into him.

"You're a terrible liar, Helvar," she said breathlessly. Nina pulled him down towards her, buried her face in the small space right behind his ear, and breathed him in.

"We should...stop," Matthias panted into her neck. "We should...do this properly…"

"Matthias, if you do not take me to your room and make me forget everything except your name, the next time you catch me with a man, it's going to be even worse than Wylan," Nina threatened him. She rolled her hips one more time to drive her point home.

Nina considered herself very fortunate that Matthias was a smart man.

#fanfiction #grishaverse #matthias/nina #helnik #nina zenik #matthias helvar #romance #jealousy #au #this is like lowkey an au?

10 notes · View notes

shadow--writer · 3 years ago

Text

I Light up Like a Sparkler, Feel it Getting Warmer

title (this is one of my fav bands lol. they released the end of their newest album and it was all I could listen to for a week asdf)

Maeve x Lucas. Let’s try this one again (again). 3.9k

TW: none!

@dela-png

The Raven was boisterous when they entered, both making her gut sink and heart flutter a little.

While she loved how loud it was, with people laughing so hard they bent over themselves.

It meant more…

“Songbird!”

...of Eli. He was a regular patient at her clinic. And a total dumbass. A loving one, sure, but a dumbass.

“Ya gonna play for us tonight, hermosa dama?”

She rubbed her temples, cracking an eye open to look at him. She wasn’t very fluent in the language he spoke, but she’d heard it enough to guess what he was saying.

“I need a few drinks before we go that far,” she replied, keeping her voice flat.

Eli laughed, raising his tankered at her.

Lucas chuckled, kissing her cheek. “Well you’re popular.”

“Mmm. My dream.”

She cracked an eye open to look around. Some of the people sitting by Eli paled they looked over at her.

No...they weren’t looking at her. It was Lucas.

It was strange seeing it, like they had seen a ghost. Or something from the past. It wasn’t normal to pale like this. Sure Lucas was…well Lucas. She wouldn’t lie and say he was a small man.

Lucas shifted nervously, looking down at the ground. At their feet. Her legs. Anywhere but at the Raven falling quieter.

She frowned, turning away from the group.

She’d ask him about it later.

“We’ll just…get a place at the counter and wait for Amani, okay?” she said softly, shifting away to move to the counter.

She hated killing the mood by thinking, but something was just off. Or something was happening and he wasn’t telling her. Or it was both.

She chewed the inside of her cheek, rolling her eyes. He didn’t have to tell her anything he wasn’t comfortable with. Just as she kept things from him.

But why did this feel bigger than whatever secrets she might’ve had?

She winced, thinking back on Nicolas as she sat on a stool. The fact she was thinking his name again was a good sign.

After years of not. Was she healing?

…the nightmare she had pleaded the case of no.

She let out a sigh, tangling her hands in her hair. Barth chuckled as he cleaned a glass, almost reading her mind. “We got a new shipment of gin.”

She peaked through her fingers. “I’m listening.”

Lucas sat next to her, hunching over a little as he pressed his shoulder against hers.

She reached over to pat his knee.

“And the usual for you?” Barth asked, throwing the rag over his shoulder and settling the glass down.

She smiled a little, banishing all thoughts of Nicolas. Ugh she was never going to get over his name. Saying it, thinking it, it was all the same.

“Oh no. Mo stór will have a glass of water.” Oops she said that a little…loudly.

Lucas groaned, burying his face in his hands, the tips of his ears going red.

There was a snort and a wheeze and Lucas looked like he wanted to melt further.

Ah. So it seemed Amani arrived.

She slowly gathered her wits up, mulling over what the fuck to say to her as Barth slid her a gin. And a water.

“Thanks my love,” she said to him with a smile that was more of a grimace. Yeah. She was fucked. Nothing was quite like the wrath of Amani. She just hoped a peace offering would at least help a little.

“Water huh?” Amani asked, walking over and throwing an arm around his shoulders, rubbing her knuckles into his hair. “Surprised you even knew it existed!”

Maeve hid her smile in her glass. Okay. Less fucked. “He lost a wager. No alcohol for a week.”

Amani perked up, plopping herself in Maeve’s lap. She let out a startled choke, giggling.

“Ooh is that gin? Don’t mind if I do.” Amani plucked the glass from her hands, taking a swing. “Mm! That new, Barth?”

He nodded, chuckling to himself.

Oh they were causing a scene.

Maeve smiled, resting one hand on Amani’s hip and the other on her knee.

She liked it.

“Mmm this is really good!” Amani said, lighting up. She offered the glass to Lucas, her smile growing mischievous. “You should try it- oh wait!”

He pouted and Maeve pursed her lips to keep from laughing harder.

“So. What’s this wager that my loving dumbass lost?”

“Amani,” he whined.

“Well,” Maeve said, smiling and letting out a breath. “He took me out on a date.”

“Oh fuck! Really?!”

“Why are you surprised,” Lucas asked, pressing his cheek against the counter, sulking at the water.

“Well didn’t she fuckin dump ya? And your ass was pissed!”

“Mmm. Yeah. And you still owe me a lot of repairs.”

“Psh repairs reshamers.”

“…my broken stools would like to say otherwise.”

“Eh, what's a little property damage between friends!”

She liked that Amani considered them friends in that one sentence. But yeah she didn’t deserve it.

“I um…don’t think I’m worthy of being called a friend,” she murmured, her arms going slack. She fucked up pretty badly. Maybe not for the long term.

But she did hurt him.

Amani looked over her shoulder with a withering glare. “You’d better shut your bitchass mouth before I do.”

“Amani please don’t kiss my partner.”

“Hey wasn’t talkin bout kissin but she does have a nice mouth when she doesn’t run it on bullshit.”

Lucas’ lips quirked up in a tiny smile.

She wilted.

Oh no they were ganging up on her.

“It is a nice mouth.”

“And here I thought we were teasing you,” she replied, her tone miffed. She took her glass back from Amani and looked away from them as she bitterly took a swing.

He chuckled, and she knew he saw the tips of her ears burning red.

“But eh, fuck it. Ya seem to draw this ass outta his shell a little more and make him happy and all that. Just don’t dump him without a good reason and we’re good.”

“But I-”

Amani pressed a finger to her lips with a grin. “Please, inviting me out here was a peace offering. I can see right through ya.”

“…well, yeah.”

“‘Preciate it. But I’m just glad I talked sense into ya. Also Lucas shared a smidgen of the blame. Sure, dumping him was harsh.” Amani’s eyes shone with understanding, she wasn’t going to mention why Maeve did it.

And she appreciated it, relaxing a little.

“But hey. Guy’s gotta go through the stages of pining and hurt at lighting speed somehow.”

“…comforting.”

“Now tell me about this date ya went on.”

“He lost a wager we made. And got me bit by an eel.”

His head shot up. “I did not! You fell in all on your own!”

“Yeah! After you startled me!”

“It was an accident!”

Amani snorted. “Isn’t this the second person you’ve gotten bit?”

“I know right! The eels must flock to him thinking he’ll lay out their next meal!”

Lucas turned away from them, messing with his glass as they giggled.

“So. Wager?”

“We did a bit of sparring.”

“…always a good choice on a first date.”

“He called me shortie, and if he wouldn’t defend my honour I had to.”

“I said it because it’s true,” he mumbled.

“Well compared to you I might be, but I still kicked your ass so don’t you forget it.”

“You won’t let me.”

“Oh right, no alcoholic drinks for a week. What’s my poor darling supposed to do? Drink literally anything else? The horror.”

“So you banned him from drinking?”

“Oh great,” Lucas moaned.

Amani chuckled, throwing her head back and nearly making them topple off of the stool they shared. “Oh you are evil! I like it!”

She took a swing of her gin, finishing it off as Amani ordered her own drink.

“He made his bed now he must lie in it.”

“You sparred for this?”

“Mmhmm.”

Amani squinted, looking at her. She tilted her head, the gold paint around her eyes shimmering a little. Maeve looked over at Lucas for help, and he was, of course, none.

“W-What?”

“You...sparred with him?”

“Is it that hard to believe?”

“And won?”

She smiled a little, giggling. “What, like it’s hard?”

Lucas looked over at them and smiled at her. “It was awesome.”

“What’d she do?”

“She kicked my nose.”

“And your ass. Literally.”

He snorted, taking her hand off Amani’s knee and holding it gently. “Flipping me over your shoulder is nothing to sniff at.”

“Holy shit she flipped ya? That is fuckin awesome!” Amani said, looking back at Maeve. “You’ve gotta show me how to do that.”

“Now?”

“...good point.”

“Destroy my bar and that’s even more on your tab,” Barth added, making Amani laugh.

“You know I wouldn’t.” He raised an eyebrow and she wilted a little. “...wouldn’t much.”

Maeve snorted, squeezing Lucas’ hand. “I’ll teach you later,” she told the woman who was still on her lap. Barth slid an amber liquid over to them and another gin.

“Then what did you do?”

“Well everyone has pressure points tucked in our biceps. Press them hard enough and your arms will go numb. Hurts like a bitch but it’s good at taking down someone who is…” she smiled a little, looking at Lucas. “Bigger.”

Amani snorted. “With you two? That’s an understatement.”

Maeve giggled and Lucas blushed a little. “He wounded my pride so I had to stand up for myself.” She tweaked his nose. “And got his ass banned from alcohol. Tired of water?”

His eyes turned pleading. Reminded her of a puppy. “Yeah.”

She leaned over and kissed the tip of his nose. “They might have cider. I could order you some.”

His face fell and he made a face at her. “I’m not a kid. I can order my own cider.”

She sipped on her gin, hiding her smile in her glass. “Ah, of course. I hear the cider is very good though.”

“Better than water.”

She gasped in mock offense, holding a hand to her chest. “Slander water and I will throw you over the counter.”

He snorted, fighting back his smile. “Yes because you would risk that.”

She fluttered her lashes. “I can claim I was just simply...drunk and you said a comment that landed poorly. I must defend my honour after all, and I have quite the reputation.” Two gins in? Hardly enough to get her buzzed.

She was quite proud of her alcohol tolerance. She could best even the largest of people in a game. It made betting fun.

“Reputation? For what?”

She winked, letting out a tiny hum. “While I might be a lady I can cause a nuisance if I so pleased.”

“Oh? And how do you do that?” Amani chimed in, tease alight in her tone.

“I’m not known as ‘Songbird’ for nothing, my sweet lady.”

Lucas snorted. “Lady.” Amani glared at him and stuck out her tongue. Maeve giggled, pressing her lips together to stifle the sound.

“She does put on a good show if it pleases her,” Barth said with a smile. “She’s almost as bad as Julian.”

Maeve blew a raspberry. “Oh please I only sing.”

“Either way it draws people in,” he said with a shrug. “Plus you look like you have fun.”

Her cheeks reddened. She did have fun when she sang on top of the tables. It was energetic and she liked being the life of the party for once.

But she hadn’t done anything...like that in front of Lucas. He might not like her doing it, or he’d see her much differently after the fact. She might’ve been vulgar and open (most of the time) but this was almost embarrassing.

Nicolas didn’t like it because she made a fool of him when she did it.

She bit her lip. Damn why did she keep thinking of him? He wasn’t here anymore. If she could go back to ignoring all that happened she could get on with her life.

She nervously looked over at Lucas. He looked interested.

“Do you play any instruments?” Amani asked.

“I um...no.” She wouldn’t meet Amani’s eyes. “I...don’t have any to play if I wanted to.” She did have a fiddle of her own. Well, she used to have a fiddle. It had been a gift from her Seanathair, but she…

Her face fell.

She left it with Nicolas.

“And no one would want to hear me play! Besides, I don’t have a fiddle to play!”

“You can borrow mine, hermosa dama!” Eli offered from where he sat, waving his bow around.

Amani cocked an eyebrow with a smirk.

She wilted.

Fuck.

“It’s just one little song, wouldn’t it be fun?” Amani said sweetly, batting her eyes. “Playing music again after so long!”

“...you’re good at this.”

“I’m an expert guilt tripper, that's true.”

“But I don’t think…” she looked at Lucas again and bit her lower lip. He wasn’t Nicolas but he might not like it either. She didn’t know, and after her major fuck up? One she still agreed with but regretted? Yeah. She didn’t want to risk it. Him liking her was already a miracle in itself. She was a disaster in heels. “No one wants to see me play. I sing, I dance, and I arm wrestle over confident people.”

“That I’d like to see. But.” Amani hopped out of her lap, dragging her to her feet. “I wanna see Miss-Prissy-Lady-Pants get rowdy.”

Nerves fluttered in her gut as Amani tugged her over to Eli. Lucas had sat up, intrigued.

Amani caught her gaze and laughed softly, handing her the borrowed fiddle. “He loves this stuff, don’t worry. He may have the musical talent of a rock, but he likes music. Besides, he likes you.”

She held the fiddle gently, staring at the polished wood. “But I’m out of practice!”

“Let’s see what you remember!”

She sighed, holding it up to her neck and testing a note with the bow. It was tuned and the note came out clean.

She really wasn’t getting out of this.

“Besides,” Amani whispered. “Who doesn’t like to get rowdy once in a while?” She shoved Maeve forward, making her stumble over herself. Her heels clicked on the floor and the Raven quieted.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

She shot a glare at Amani, who had settled back onto the stool with her rum in hand.

Lucas mouthed ‘you got this’ with a dorky smile and she sighed again.

Ugh peer pressure.

She stood on a chair and stepped onto the table Eli sat at. He was grinning wildly. Breathing in once, she closed her eyes. She knew this tune. It had been burned into her memory from playing it so many times.

It was different each time.

Allowing herself to smile, she tapped her foot and played the first note.

The jig was quick, picking up from the first little note as she skipped around the table. Around the glasses and people laughing at her antics. Normally she would sing, picking up her skirts and allowing her voice to raise to the roof and lifting her higher.

Now she was playing a familiar tune on an unfamiliar instrument.

Her heels clicked as she spun, giggling a little to herself as she opened her eyes.

People clapped, keeping the beat and keeping her on track. As she turned, she met Lucas’ eyes.

He was grinning at her, clapping and cheering a little. His cheeks were rosy and he looked so...perfectly happy.

She winked at him, bending down as the tune’s pace quickened. She flubbed a few notes, ignoring them. No one seemed to notice.

No one knew the jig like she did.

She grinned up at the ceiling, feeling lighter than air as she played the last note. It rang through the Raven for a heartbeat before Eli started wildly (and frankly, drunkenly) laughing.

She laughed with him, bending over herself and shaking as she laughed. She was shaking and nervous. Sweaty but laughing so hard she was snorting.

Lucas got to his feet, moving closer to her while holding out his hand, getting to her feet and tucking the fiddle under her arm, she kissed him softly. He was grinning like a loon as he helped her hop down from the table. She landed with a click, handing the fiddle back to Eli.

Walking back to Amani, her legs shook. She collapsed on Lucas’ stool, him muttering about how he had to move down one.

She buried her face in her arms, trying to stifle her nervous laughter. Lucas set a hand on her lower back, gently patting her back.

“See! That wasn’t so bad!”

“I h-h-hate you,” she stuttered through her giggles. “N-N-Never gonna d-do that a-again.”

She could see Lucas’ brows creasing in worry. She never really stuttered. Last time she stuttered it was after…

She stopped giggling. That dream.

She looked at Amani. “Happy now?”

Amani only smiled back. “Well, kind of. Now that I know you can play~”

“Yeah. Play with what?”

Her smile grew wicked. “I know a couple places to get something for you.”

“Let me guess...you’re going to steal it? Oh! Borrow without returning?”

Amani gasped, holding the back of her hand to her forehead. “You wound me! I would never steal anything! Stealing is a crime and I am a simple law abiding citizen!”

Lucas snorted, shoulders shaking as he laughed. “Name one law.”

“...don’t kill people?”

Maeve snorted. “You set the bar a bit low there, darling.”

“...that I did.”

“Ooh I see we’re at pet names now,” Amani teased.

“We’ve always been at pet names,” she replied.

“The question is if they’re nice or not,” Lucas said, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her closer. The stool rocked and she let out a tiny squeak. He ruffled her hair, kissing the top of her head.

“T-They’re always nice!” she said, trying to push his face away. He only nuzzled her fingers, making her chide him softly. “You’ve just never gotten your head outta your ass long enough to understand that. They could be sickening sweet for all you know.” And they were. It’s why she liked them.

“Ugh you two are sickening sweet,” Amani groaned, making a face.

“You know Firefly, I think Amani is jealous,” Lucas said, Maeve squishing his cheeks to make his lips pucker a little.

She giggled. “Oh? A nickname for me? You really think of me as a bug?”

He glared at her, it was hard to take him seriously when he looked like a fish. She kissed him lightly, still smiling. “It’s because you glow,” he whined. “And even if you were a bug you’d be a cute bug.”

She snorted. “Wow you really know how to woo a girl.”

“Well you’re lucky he’s going with ‘firefly’ instead of ‘hairy spider’,” Amani said, making Lucas snort.

She giggled, smoothing out the creases around his eyes.

“Would you rather I call you my lightning bug?”

“Annnd you’re back to being disgustingly sweet.”

They ignored Amani’s whining with soft laughter.

“Well, it’s not so bad,” she finally admitted. “It’ll grow on me.”

“At least you know what it means.”

She giggled, smiling a little smugly. “If you learn my language you’d understand it!” she sang

“Or you could just tell me,” he sang back.

Err well, tried to.

She burst out laughing, letting go of his face and wrapping her arms around his neck as she laughed. “You’re terrible.”

He kissed her cheek. “I could say the same about you, Songbird.”

“You’re never going to let me live that down.”

“You were lovely when you played. Why don’t you do it more often?”

“I can’t afford to. I’d play all the instruments I grew up with if I could…afford to have them.” Nicolas probably destroyed her fiddle anyways.

She missed playing.

“I did offer to steal some!”

She turned to look at Amani. “Ah! So you admit to it!”

Amani stuck her tongue out and they giggled.

Her lips twisted and she smiled. “Let me think about it.”

Amani winked. “Take all the time you need, it’ll be fun!”

Lucas sighed, resting his chin on Maeve’s shoulder. “Just don’t get caught.”

“Me? Get caught? That hurts even more than you thinking I was a criminal!”

Maeve stage whispered to her. “If it makes you feel any better I’m a wanted criminal.”

Amani gasped. “Miss Prissy Pants? No way!”

She giggled, pressing her hands to her mouth as she nodded. Maybe Malory having the guards chase her every time she went to the market was good for one or two things.

“Ya gotta tell me this story.”

“Well part of it has something to do with Lucas thinking I hated him with a nickname for a specific story.”

His eyes lit up. “You were a spitfire!”

“And I’ll be one again if you push me,” she said with a smile, but her tone was dead serious. “You haven’t pissed me off just yet.”

“Yet?!”

She kissed his temple, smiling and launching into her story.

The Raven slowly quieted as the candles burned low, Amani yawning through her tale about stealing from some demon. Again.

While it was entertaining, Amani was dead on her feet. And quite frankly, maybe even a little drunk.

“You should get her home,” she said softly, leaning against Lucas’ shoulder.

“She lives in the Flooded District.”

“Mmm that is a bit far. Can you take her to your home?”

“Yeah. She’s going to have quite the headache when she wakes up.”

Maeve chuckled. “Nothing a good cup of coffee won’t fix. Want me to help carry her?”

“You also have to get home. You live a ways away from me. In the opposite direction.”

She hummed. That was true. “We’ll just walk until we need to split up then?”

“Yeah. I can’t visit you tomorrow since I have to pick up another shift.”

She smiled, getting to her feet. “I don’t mind a day without you. Make it up to me later?”

He chuckled, kissing her forehead and getting to his feet. “Or I could visit you,” she said with a smile. “Won’t make lunch but I might bring a present.”

He smiled, gently waking Amani and lifting her up on his back. She grumbled incoherently and fell back asleep.

“You don’t have to.”

“Ah! But I must.”

He sighed but his smile didn’t falter. It fell into a comfortable silence as they walked down the street. It was dark and kind of gloomy, but she had a happy buzz making her body warm.

They soon came to where they needed to part ways. She jumped a little to kiss his cheek.

“Goodnight,” she whispered, tapping his nose once before moving to walk away.

“Thumbelina, wait.”

She turned and was quickly swept into a kiss. He couldn’t do much with Amani on his back, and she let out a tiny ‘mmph!’. It was a different kind of kiss. Sweetness replaced with desperation. It was needy and all encompassing, leaving her skin burning hot.

He wouldn’t meet her eyes when he pulled away, cheeks red with embarrassment.

She stood shocked for a moment, touching her lower lip. She started to giggle, biting her lower lip. His eyes quickly snapped up to meet hers as she laughed.

“S-Sorry it’s just.” She pursed her lips with a smile, standing on her tiptoes and tangling her hands in his hair. “I um. Didn’t expect that.” She kissed the tip of his nose. “You kiss goodbye like it’s going to be your last.”

His ears were red as she rubbed her nose against his, still giggling. “Goodnight Giant. Get home safe.”

“Y-You too.”

#the arcana #the arcana game #maeve #lucas #my writing #maevas #maeve x lucas #amani #asdfgrrhgtfd the self doubt is sinking in #quickly before I chicken out

4 notes · View notes

justasparkwritings · 4 years ago

Text

Codename Cupid: Chapter 16

Previous: How Cricket Got Her Name

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook X Reader/OFC/You

Genre: Secret AgentAU, AgentAU, Government Agent AU

Rating: PG15

Word Count: 3.04K

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: Our lovely P.I. goes on the search for Min Yoongi, and stumbles into the identity of the mystery man with Taehyung.

(this is... rough? did not expect it to be so long...)

Missing Min Yoongi

Present Day

My sister always tells me she’s given me all she can, that she can’t help me past my one favor a year. It’s a ploy, a deception, a boldfaced lie she tells at work or anytime we’re in earshot of anyone else. Does she misuse her government clearance? Yes. Does she defy laws and challenge the ethical code? Yes. Has she ever gotten caught? No. You’d think the government would put more tabs on her, considering her sister is a registered and licensed PI, but no, no one seems to bat an eye.

Min Yoongi, Park Yoongi, Yoongi, is nonexistent. I barely understand what he did at Lee Enterprises, let alone how he ended up bedding Euna. He supposedly comes from no money, no name to build off of, nothing. His grades were fine, his college experience came and went with nary a note of youthful rebellion. Now, now that he’s no longer at Enterprises, I cannot fucking find him. Nothing on the web, nothing in the statewide system, nothing in the national system. No death certificates, no marriage licenses, nothing.

All I’ve got are his charges, well, Euna’s charges against him.

Cheating in the 1st degree, no proof, no photos or receipts or basic evidence of his behavior. She had nothing but her recollection of the fight they had, and minimal information on what led to the break up. From her manifesto, it seems that Yoongi was pulling away and she clung to him, claws drawing blood, trying to get him to stay. He didn’t, clearly. With only that to go off of, it’s no wonder I can’t find Min Yoongi, and I’m beginning to think that just maybe, Min Yoongi doesn’t exist. He’s her Snuffleupagus, and I’m starting to not believe.

While I’m unsure if Yoongi exists, I do know a person who does.

The man with Taehyung.

Spectacled and broad shouldered, quaffed hair and arms the size of tree trunks, this man exists. He goes to the gym regularly, religiously, makes his coffee at home, and frequents his local nursery. The man is obsessed with plants, it seems unhealthy. Multiple days a week he’s carrying one, or more, I have photos of him watering them, speaking to them… He tends to them with such care, such love, it’s mesmerizing. He goes to work, some corporation, and once a week meets Taehyung. They’re clearly pals, best friends, brothers. They laugh and eat and enjoy one another. It’s cute, their friendship date. Once in a while, Jimin joins them. The three laugh uproariously and often draw attention for their volume. The unidentified man doesn’t seem to understand how loud he is, his baritone resonating enough for me to hear.

I haven’t intentionally bumped into the three of them, yet, but I’ve stationed myself near enough to hear bits and pieces of their conversations. They never discuss work, only music they’re listening to, books they’re reading, podcasts, plants, general culture. Have I written down a few of the artists and podcasts they listen to? Yes. Do I feel dirty about it? Yes.

But it’s the job, and I tail them for a month before a package arrives. A package with my name on it, waiting outside my apartment door. It’s not addressed, no stamps or packing label. It’s new, not reused as a shipping box or gifted for the umpteenth time, no dingy tape sticking to its brown coating. The box is sitting, like it’s appeared out of thin air. A secure building is only as secure as the tenants make it, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the owner snuck in behind some dummy who didn’t see the harm in letting a potential rapist, stalker, murder, into the building. Taking the package inside, and as my blood continues to cool and chills run down my spine, I delicately open it.

I know, it could be a bomb. However, the only thought calming me down is the knowledge that my life has never once been a Shonda Rhimes production and thus, I’m not really worried this package is a bomb. Frankly, that’s far more sophisticated than any of the people I’ve worked for and gives them too much credit.

Inside, there are copious amounts of surveillance photos and a note, written in a script that I’ve seen before.

“That was your last warning / The line has been drawn and you’re bleeding / Next time, face to face is how we’ll be meeting”

Whoever heard of a stalker rhyming?

I bag the evidence to toss under my bed so Jungkook won’t find it and pull out my list of potential threats.

Check It Once, Check It Twice

William Daniels

Cheated on his wife of 5 years with a stewardess who flew almost exclusively on his flights (big shock)

Threatened to ban me from American Airlines - Jokes on him, I don’t fly American

Photos in the act & audio recordings

Wife divorced him immediately

He has to pay alimony out the nose

Lives in the area

Allanah McMahon

Arrested and tried for insider trading and embezzlement

Discovered who I was when I was subpoenaed to testify

Still in jail

My testimony added a few years to her sentence … oops

Cassie Harrington

Set up a Multi-Level Marketing scheme

Tried to hide out in Hawaii – but changed her Instagram to private after I’d already followed her

Ordered to pay back all the money she stole

On parole

Adam Gregory

Tried to run an illegal adoption agency for homosexual, non binary couples

Paid a fine and on parole – forbidden from creating any LLC’s or Incorporating

Brian Welch

Pissed that I found evidence of his partner cheating but turned him in on charges of possession of child pornography

In jail for kiddy porn and for threatening my life

His husband got everything despite the infidelity

You acquire quite detailed list of people who want to threaten your life on the daily, but then again, wasn’t it Audre Lorde who said “I’m deliberate and afraid of nothing?” I can’t be afraid. If I’m afraid, they have the power. They have the power to intimidate me, to run my life for me, to make my decisions. I will not back down because they got caught. But I will protect myself, I will keep my license for my gun up and go to the shooting range often. I will strengthen the locks and security of my apartment, and I will ask Jungkook to stay over more, or sleep at his.

I will not back down, not when Lee Euna has paid me what seems like the cost of tuition at Princeton for a year and wants answers. We signed a contract, didn’t we?

And who am I if my word is no longer worth anything?

Instead of harping on the sickening feeling that I’m being watched 24/7, I run through my plans for bumping into Taehyung and his friends. In the weeks that I’ve continued to follow him, he’s solidified Wednesday’s as his night for dinner with friends, and Thursdays as his cultural exploration. He goes to museum openings, concerts, movies, plays, clubs, all on Thursdays. While those nights are fun for me to watch and put on my expense account, it’s Wednesdays that I adore. I love following him from his house to the restaurants and am excited each week to see what he and his friends have chosen.

This week, it’s an authentic Mexican restaurant. Slipping my coat on, I give them a few minutes before following in.

The sound of mariachi welcomes me into the yellow painted restaurant. The furniture, dark mahogany against the vibrant walls, is full of people. I note the variety of sombreros, the different colors and patterns, the meanings hidden within the stitchwork. It’s not a large restaurant, but big enough to fit a few large groups of 7-10 people, and plenty of space for smaller groups such as the three men. The hostess asks if I want to sit at the bar, and I request a table near the men. Sitting a few feet away, I’m able to pick up their conversation easily. Instead of jotting it down, I hit record and let the metaphorical tape play.

“Oh, it wasn’t that bad!” The mystery man says.

“It was awful, Taehyungie couldn’t stop laughing, every time he hit the ball it went flying in the wrong direction,” Jimin says.

“I was trying so hard!” Taehyung laughed.

“That’s the problem, you were trying too hard,” The man tells him. “You’re too pure of heart.”

“I am not,” Taehyung shook his head.

“I know, you’ve experienced a lot, Tae,” Jimin says.

“Joon, here’s the question,” Taehyung says, and I’m momentarily distracted by the utterance of the name, Joon. “You get to pick next week, we heading back to that barbeque place?”

Jimin erupts in another fit of laughter, Taehyung following suit. It’s cute, watching them interact. I wonder if Jungkook has friends he does things like this with… those nights we aren’t together, if he has friends to spend his time with.

I wait until they’ve left to take a glance at the signed bill on their table, Taehyung Kim is scribbled, no evidence of the other men, and I’m about to bag evidence when I hear my name.

“Y/N?” Taehyung asks.

“Taehyung! That was you!” I smile.

“Have you been here the whole time?” Taehyung’s eyebrows express more than anyone’s I’ve ever seen.

“I, yeah. I wasn’t sure it was you and Jimin. I didn’t want to interrupt,” I tell him.

“Oh, you could’ve! Don’t worry about them, we’ve been friends a long time,” Taehyung smiles, it’s boxy and wide, the edges curling as his eyes soften.

I’ve already started my dance, a waltz to an even tempo and I’ve got the next five paces planned. “Who was that new guy?”

“Why, you single?” Taehyung smirks, his lips no longer joyful but devious.

“I just was curious,” I reply, “And no, I’m not single, remember?”

“Oh yes, yes, Jungkook,” Taehyung recalls with a nod.

“You, Jimin and that other guy, go way back?” I lead him, it’s easy to lead Taehyung, he’s pure of heart, the most honest intentions in his eyes.

“Mm, yes,” He continues smiling at me.

“Your dinner looked fun, I’ll definitely be coming back to this place,” I tell him. It’s true, maybe I will bring Jungkook by one night when I know these three men won’t be around.

“Yeah, we like it. We try a new restaurant every week. It’s a fun no work zone,” His arms are relaxed at his sides, one hand slipping slowly into his pocket, his cardigan open and glasses pressed close to his ebony eyes.

“I like that, no work zone,” I agree, I wish I had one of those.

“Yes, it helps clear the mind,” Taehyung tells me.

“Do the three of you work together?” I inquire.

“Kind of, we have a lot of the same shared interests,” he sidesteps.

I nod, the final step in our dance presenting itself. “Very cool, well I don’t want to keep you from Jimin and –

“Joon, yeah, very considerate of you. Maybe I’ll see you at the dog park again?” He asks.

“Oh god, I hope not, Maisie is a nightmare,” I laugh.

“Well have a good night, Y/N, take care!” He says as he walks out the door. I stand, watching, pretending to not notice how he gets in the car swiftly, not looking back.

Joon.

What kind of a name is Joon? If Taehyung and Jimin, and Jungkook, and Seokjin… and Yoongi, are all Korean, must Joon be short for something Korean?

Glancing at my phone, it’s only 8:30PM, if I hurry, I can get in another few hours of work before I’m overcome with exhaustion and anxiety. But what will I find?

Oh Joon

Kim Joon

Lee Joon

Joon-Ho

Joon-Hee

Joon-Hyuk

Joon-Ki

Joon-Tae

Joon-Young

Byung-Joon

Ha-Joon

Hee-Joon

Hyung-Joon

Jae-Joon

Kyung-Joon

Jae-Joon

Kyung-Joon

Yong-Joon

Nam-Joon

Joon-Su

Ye-Joon

Not to mention add in the top 5 Korean last names, and I’ve got hundreds of possibilities. Luckily, I can run the name against the address of the apartment building Taehyung picked Joon up from. Being a PI means I have access to the state databases, which gives me names and addresses. In the building, there’s one Joon, a Namjoon, Kim Namjoon. I pull the information before digging into my search.

Unlike the seemingly nonexistence of Min Yoongi, Kim Namjoon is present. Every search result yields a perfectly manicured article dating anywhere from the year of his birth to age sixteen, and then, much like everyone else on this case, the trail begins to run cold. Whatever happened to him during high school, still radiates through his file. Whether he’s shaken it or not, that’s the question.

No known career or job at all, his status as a prodigy in math, linguistics and rhetoric is astonishing. One of the highest IQ’s of recent memory, he’d mastered calculus by the time he was 8, besting PhD’s by 13, and then in a blaze of glory, disappearing by 16. He was studied, written about, documented, photographed, and somehow managed to be nominated for a Nobel Prize… how he accomplished all of that during puberty is beyond me. Not only does he accomplish that, but then, disappears completely, without a trace. How?

I’m ready to pack it in when someone steps into my office.

“I saw the light on,” She says.

“Ms. Lee, what do I owe this surprise visit?” I ask. This is the exact opposite of what I wanted to do tonight.

“I wanted to, to talk to you,” She takes a few steps forward, pausing to ask for unspoken permission.

“Please, sit. What did you want to talk to me about?” I lean back, hoping she can’t see the bags forming under my eyes or the tears from the yawn I’m stifling.

“I wanted to tell you about, about why I need you to find Min Yoongi,” Euna informs me. She’s dressed in what can only be described as winter white, and only as a cashmere sweatsuit. Never have I ever seen such glamor in my dingy office. I feel bad that she’s risking the integrity of her outfit by being here.

“Oh, okay,” I sit up and reach for a notebook. “Do you want me to write this down?”

“No, you don’t need to. We can just talk between women, between friends,” Euna’s voice is soft. The slack in her jaw, the demur manner in which her hands are placed on her lap, it’s evident she doesn’t know how to be girlfriends. Raised by her family, groomed to take over, friends was never a word in her vocabulary.

“I wanted you to know that I really saw a future with Yoongi,” She starts. “You know that place in your heart where you hold all your hopes?”

“Yes,” I say hesitantly.

Her eyes narrow in warning, “Do you have someone, someone who’s beginning to fill that space?”

“Um, yeah,” I reply.

“I thought that’s what Yoongi was. I thought we were, we were building something. Jun-Seo had Jimin, they thought they were building an illustrious future together, but one day he disappeared too.” She pinches the slight bridge of her nose, inhaling slowly to steady her nerves. “I don’t know what changed in our relationship. Yoongi didn’t want me anymore, he didn’t want to be around me, or with me at all. A switch flipped, like one day he realized he didn’t love me in the first place. I don’t know what happened, I don’t know why, but when your entire future is destroyed, do you stand back and watch it burn?”

“Do you want me to answer that?” I ask.

“Sure, what I did after that was terrible, but it was within reason. Everything I did was within reason. I tried to hold onto him, I did what I thought was right to get him to stay and he just, ran. Bolted, broke up with me on the phone like I’m Taylor Swift in 2012. Maybe I am,” Euna rolls her eyes, the comparison both too true and too terrifying. “At least Seokjin had the kindness to break up with me in person. But Yoongi? The coward! He knew I loved him. He knew I would carry his child, would marry him, would love him eternally and then some. I would’ve done anything for him. Even after he refused to go family dinners or go on trips with Seo and Jimin, after he started lying and cheating and stealing. He broke my heart, shattered it. If anyone is to blame for what happened after our relationship, it’s him.”

Interested peaked, I inquire “What happened?”

“It’s in my document,” She snaps.

“The handwritten one?” I clarify.

Rolling her delicate ebony irises, “Yes, of course.”

“The abortion, the embezzlement, insider trading?” I try to rattle off the accusations she’d detailed. Somewhere I had a list and had sorted them by man, but damn, there were a lot of them.

“Yes,” She snips.

“That’s all true?” I ask again. The look she gives me is unwarranted, this is the first time in months, nearly a year, that she has sat down with me and discussed the charges. I am well within my right as her Private Investigator to ask clarifying questions.

“Do you make a conscious decision to not believe your clients? Am I not paying you enough Y/N?” Euna snaps.

“I’m sorry,” I respond.

“I should go, I expect next week at our meeting you will have an update on the mystery man,” She stands.

“Yes, yes, I will,”

“Good, oh, there was a note under your door. I didn’t pick it up,” She turns and walks, stepping gingerly over the note. Scrambling behind her, I pick up the folded paper, and scrawled in crystal clear letters it reads:

Cricket, was driving past when I saw the light on. Why are you working? Come to mine when you’re done, it’s been three restless nights without you.

XO – Bunny

Fuck me, I love him.

Next: Cricket & Bunny Pt. 1

11 notes · View notes