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pradaksj · 4 years ago

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Safety Net || part one. (m.)

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

❧ summary ⟶ on new year’s eve, you and jungkook reflect on each other’s entire year together.

❧ pairing⟶ jungkook/reader

❧ genre⟶ enemies to friends, friends to lovers, roommates au, fluff, angst, pining, eventual smut, boxer!jungkook. two-part series.

❧ word count ⟶ 24,000+

❧ warnings ⟶ mentions of oral and sex but nothing explicit or descriptive. fight scene that involves drunk man. mentions of bullying (in the past).

❧ music⟶ safety net, selfish, stuck on you, exile, +more

❧ a/n (please read) ⟶ this story switches a lot from past & present, I color coded borders to make it easier to tell :) dark purple = entering/still in the past, light purple= present, also this is unedited so sorry for any mistakes 😭 ill come back to edit a lot of things soon.

01 | 02

“Oh perfect, y/n!” Hobi stops you dead in your tracks before you could completely make your way onto the living room, “You don’t mind grabbing some more firewood from my car while I finish these up,” he says, currently too busy melting the chocolate for the s’mores he was making.

You see tonight was New Year’s Eve, and you and a couple of other close friends had decided to rent out a cabin in celebration of the new year instead of going out to some end of the year party, choosing comfort over a night of wild drinking. In the end it didn’t make much of a difference, because the moment you saw Jimin and Taehyung walk in with a pack of soju and other cheap liquor in their hands, you knew that by the end of the night someone, if not everyone, was going to end up completely wasted.

And of course, you were right. After hours of being outside in the cold, with the boys drinking as if there was no tomorrow, everyone had now made their way back inside, complaining that it was too cold outside and that the cabin came with an indoor fireplace for a reason.

Never one to drink too heavy, you had kept your drinking at a moderate pace, only allowing yourself to reach a relaxed kind of buzz. Namjoon and Yoongi on the other hand were currently debating on whether the US’s landing of the moon was nothing more than a fake ploy to beat Russia and was instead filmed on some movie set.

Jin and his girlfriend acted as measly facilitators between the two men who had been bickering back and forth for the past hour, their slurred speeches making it difficult to take either one seriously.

Jimin, for his part, had attempted to keep his drinking at a minimal but with Taehyung acting as his partner in crime, the two were now playing an unbalanced game of ping-pong, both of them looking as if at any moment they were going to knock out on the table. And Jungkook was— well where the hell was Jungkook?

But before you could dwell too much on the thought, Hobi’s voice snaps you back to reality, “pleaseeee, I’ll even add an extra chocolate square to your s’more, just like how always like em,” he flashes you a smile, your roommate of 3, going on 4, years knowing just what to say to convince you, not that you needed much of it.

Minus Hobi, you were probably the person closest to being sober, and you did not want to imagine the different disastrous scenarios that would happen if he sent anyone who wasn’t yourself out there. You also highly doubted any of them would even be up for it, and so with that you just let out a small groan, mumbling, “Where are your keys?”

Excitedly he points to the kitchen island, where his Hyundai’s keys laid across, “I parked right near the lake,” he says, immediately causing you to look back at him, brows furrowed in confusion, “No one wanted to carry the wood from here to the bonfire earlier, so I just parked near the lake to save our energy,” you roll your eyes, “Come on, it’s just a 2 minute walk at most, and I’m sure there’s still people celebrating across the lake as well so you don’t feel so scared, but if you want I can ask Jungkook to go wi—”

“It’s fine, it’s fine—” you interrupt, grabbing the keys and beginning to make your way out, quickly putting on your coat because God knew how cold it was outside. “He’s probably asleep already, knowing him,” you chuckle, the boy who Hobi had introduced you to in the last year and had been living with you two as well, had habit’s that were all too predictable by now. And though you knew he’d be more than glad to get up from bed and help, for now at least, you wanted him to rest as he, himself, was probably tired from carrying things back and forth all day in the help of preparing everything. “I’ll be quick,” you say.

“Make sure that no wooden splinter cuts you,” he shouts out before the wooden door closes, having been the victim to such cuts all day, “and call me if you find it too heavy!”

Beep. Beep.

Double clicking the lock button, you grunt as you try to simultaneously carry the uneven pieces of firewood and place Hobi’s keys back into your jacket’s pocket.

“Oh my God—” you mumble to yourself, frustrated by the lack of cooperation from the keys. The wood was now slipping from your hands, its gritty texture eager to leave you a cut and as predicted it does.

Wincing in pain, you uncaringly drop the pieces of wood, worried more about the cut on your hand than what had fallen on the ground below. Luckily the cut wasn’t too bad, nothing a little soap and water couldn’t fix, but the tingly sting in your hand meant that you’d have to wait a while before picking the wooden pieces back up.

Around you, you could hear the sound of different groups of friends and family celebrating with their own events, spotting different bonfires all around the lake. Glancing at the time on your phone, it currently read 11:00, only one more hour until the new year. A part of you was tempted to walk further down the path that led to the lake’s shore. Maybe even secretly wait so that you could watch the fireworks these groups of people most likely had shoot up into the sky at 12. Especially because you knew going back to the cabin, no one would want to come back out with you to watch. Honestly, how bad did they need their wood?

And so by convincing yourself, you begin to walk further towards the lake, careful not to trip on any of the scattered rocks that surround you. By the time you made it down, you were surprised to see just how far you were from other families, most, if not all, of them being directly across the lake. Honestly you wouldn’t have preferred it any other way.

You didn’t want to seem creepy, but the sight was somewhat comforting, the kids running around in their winter gear while their parents and friends all surrounded their bonfire, sticks and marshmallows in hand.

Not to mention that tonight was a full moon, the milky glow from the moonlight reflecting against the ripples of the lake, and the tiny stars which surrounded the magnet that was the moon only adding to the grand scenery in front of you. Usually you weren’t a sucker for these kinds of things, but wow did it look amazing. The person who’d really enjoy something like this was probably—

“Jungkook,” you breathe out, confused if you were seeing things because there he was, not too far from where you stood, sitting on a giant rock with his feet dangling, careful to not touch the freezing water. His right hand throwing the small pebbles that were near him to the lake. Not too hard, and not too soft. Clearly in his own world.

A small smile graces your lips, as you watch him continue, the lake not being the only thing the moonlight was hitting. His glimmering doe shaped eyes focused on the view in front of him, and you could only wonder what had him in such deep thought, but instead not wanting to bother, you slowly began to walk back, careful to not to make any loud noises.

One Step. Two Steps. Three Steps. Crrreaaak.

Mentally, you groan at the sound of the branch breaking, hoping that it wasn’t loud enough for him to hear.

“Y/N?” he says unsurely, his attention snapping towards the sound, squinting while trying to make out your figure from afar. Your tensed shoulders drop in response. Deciding that there wasn’t much you could do, you turn around and walk towards him, feeling a little guilty that you’ve probably interrupted his time alone.

He watches as you make your way towards him, scooting to his left in order to make space for you because unbeknown to you, he was not at all bothered by your presence. In fact, he had just been thinking about you along with a question that had been looming over his head for quite some time. And the fact that you somehow managed to appear in this exact moment, almost as if it was fate, only left him in further awe.

“I thought you were asleep,” you chuckle, gently sitting down on the empty spot next to him, slowly rubbing your slightly cut hands together in an attempt to stay warm.

“I was going to sleep, but,” he pauses, “I just couldn’t,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair, “and well why waste such a good view by being in bed, am I right?,” he laughs before quickly noticing the fresh scar on your hand, “What happened?” he asks, eyebrows furrowing in concern.

You shrug your shoulders in response, “I came to grab some more firewood from Hobi’s car and well long story short, I dropped them and well I got left with this,” you laugh, not taking your tiny injury too seriously.

Opening up your hand to further show him, he carefully examines the pinkish-red scar which was now slightly swollen, sighing in disappointment, “Mm you should’ve gone to go get it disinfected,” he mumbles, slightly shaking his head as he decides that he wasn’t going to lecture you any further, for in the past year he’s learned that even someone as sweet as you, has their own buttons capable of being pushed.

Having pushed them many, many times before, tonight he just wanted you to feel relaxed and not have to worry about whether he’d say the wrong thing or not. Tonight… well tonight he just wanted for you to seek comfort in his presence, the same way he’d found comfort in yours along the way.

“It doesn’t hurt too much if I’m being honest,” you give him a small reassuring smile, if anything your hands felt more clammy than they did pain. The warm feeling in your chest only expanding to the point where you swore you could feel it at the bottom of your toes.

Honestly, it was a feeling you found yourself all too familiar with these days, and though you knew what it was, you were also unsure on how to act on it, fearful of ruining the friendship with Jungkook that had gone through several ups and downs this year. And so for you the easiest thing to do was to just avoid thinking about it and avoid talking about it.

But there was no denying that the rush of emotions you’d feel whenever you managed to crack a laugh out of Jungkook to the point where his nose would scrunch so high up that you were sure that those happy days would last forever, or the ticklish butterflies you’d feel in your stomach on movie nights where he’d randomly begin to twirl your hair with his fingers, and the rapid heartbeat you’d feel hitting against your chest after an argument over something so trivial, until of course after several days of the silent treatment, one of you would get over themselves and stubbornly apologize whether it be through words or actions, were nothing but love.

Because even in the good and bad of your friendship, the arguments and the laughs, the tears and the smiles, somehow along the way you had found yourself falling in love with the boy who was nothing more than a stranger a year ago today.

“50 more minutes,” he says under his breath, bringing you back to reality.

Awkwardly you smile, “Yeah…” you breathe, the cold crisp weather causing vapor to come out of your mouth, a sign that you were freezing despite having such a thick sweater on. Jungkook is quick to take notice, offering his own puffy jacket for you to wear, to which you quickly refuse, “Take it, I have a sweater underneath anyway,” he pressures. You find it doubtful that his black cotton turtleneck was going to be sufficient enough for him in this weather.

You giggle at his sweet gesture, finding it all too endearing, “I’m telling you I’m good,” you laugh, your shivering fingers telling a different story, “Until the clock strikes twelve at least,” you bargain, pushing the sweater in his hand away back towards him, “then I’ll go back to the warm cabin.”

He looks at you as if unconvinced, but decides to drop it and take your word for it. And if you somehow managed to weasel into staying any longer past 12, then he’d just have to forcefully carry you back to the cabin.

Soon a comfortable silence fills the air, the two of you appreciating not only the view but each other’s presence. How fitting was it that the person you met on New Year’s day last year was going to be the person you ended it with, and begin a whole ‘nother year with.

“Can you believe it’s been one whole year since we’ve met,” he suddenly breaks the silence, almost as if reading your mind. To that you let out a small breathy chuckle, in disbelief yourself. Time had gone both so slow and fast this year, it was fascinating really, how you could be both so aware and unaware that someone’s very own existence was beginning to take such a special place in your heart.

“It feels like,” you pause momentarily, a small gentle smile appearing on your face as you remembered your first encounter with Jungkook, not knowing that it’d only be the beginning to the originally rocky relationship you had with him, “It feels like it was only yesterday.”

December 31, 2018.

New Years Eve.

11:00 PM.

“Only one hour left until the new year everybody!” the DJ shouts onto his mic and over the blasting music of the party you were currently at, “Make sure you grab that special somebody before the clock strikes 12!”

“You heard him y/n, go grab a special somebody,” Hobi teases, the two of you currently sitting at the bar acting as mere spectators to the group of partygoers that were currently having the time of their life on the dance floor.

For both you and Hobi, this type of setting was a little… how could you describe it … out of place for the two of you, but after weeks of begging from both Jimin and Taehyung and a little added pressure from Namjoon and Yoongi, the two of you now found yourselves here drinking the final night of 2018 away.

“Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny,” you playfully roll your eyes, grabbing the shot glass full of tequila and downing the surprisingly smooth liquor. Hobi follows suit and chugs down his own. A squirmful look on his face following soon after. “Maybe if I drink enough, I’ll find myself dancing just like them,” you laugh, glancing at your group of friends who were currently acting as the life of the party, Jimin busting out what he calls his most “exclusive” moves.

Hobi, unlike him, remains silent which catches your attention. His attention was now on his phone, his face now appearing both red and stressed out. Nosily, you stretch your neck and attempt to peak at what could possibly have your roommate so worried, but Hobi’s quick to catch you. Immediately he pulls his phone towards his chest.

You gasp in dramatic fashion because one, your roommate wasn’t one to keep secrets from you, and two, well you were beginning to feel a little tipsy. “Now what could Jung Hoseok be hiding,” your words come out slightly slurred, a sign that the only thing you should be drinking from this point onward was some water.

“I’m not hiding anything,” he’s quick to respond, back on his phone but this time keeping it out of your reach, his fingers quickly tapping against the glass screen. You could only wonder who it was that had him typing as if his life depended on it.

“Come onnnnn,” you sing, playfully pushing his shoulder, “It can’t be that interesting, considering you don’t do much,” you pout. He looks up from his phone for a moment, but only to shoot you a glare, excusing your teasing with the fact that you were barely holding onto the state of being tipsy and on the brink of being considered drunk.

Hobi’s eyes quickly read the most recent text he’s received, rolling his eyes at whatever it was before sighing in distress, “You really wanna know?” eagerly you nod your head yes, “Well I was hoping he would be here so I could introduce you to him,” he gently shakes his head, clearly disappointed by tonight’s outcome.

“Ooooo who's the special person,” you quirk your brows up and down, but Hobi’s quick to shoot the idea down.

“Oh no, no, it’s not like that,” he laughs, “this person is a..” he pauses, trying to look for the best word to describe his relationship with said person, “Mm I guess we can call him a childhood friend,” he hums, “and well he’s been going through a bit of a tough time right now and well long before me and you ever met, he went out of his way to help me and well I think this time it’s only right that I’m there for him.” you tilt your head, slightly confused as to where this was going, “And sooo,” he sings, “I was hoping that by bringing you here and having you in a fun mood, that I could ask if he could stay at our place for a couple of months…”

You remain silent, Hobi’s words processing through your head one by one, an effect of the alcohol currently running through your system, “Only until he gets used to being in Seoul again, and finds some kind of solid ground here of course,” Hobi throws it in, worried that your silence meant rejection.

“Oh…” you mumble, thinking to yourself for a moment. Hobi’s friend huh? Well you and Hobi were like two peas in a pod, meaning whoever was a friend of his, was a friend of yours, point blank. You trusted that whoever this friend was, and whatever predicament they were in, chose to go to Hobi for the sole reason that Hobi was one of, if not the kindest person you’ve ever met, and was one of the very rare kind of people who made sure that whatever it was a person was going through, that they found a way to overcome it. And well you also assume that Hobi was going to take care of this person’s expenses … right?

You smile once you reach a decision, “Of course they can stay Hobi,” you laugh, a little offended that he thought you’d say no, but glad that he asked anyway.

Immediately Hobi breathes a sigh of relief, glad that he got that out of the way, “But he’s using your bathroom, make sure you tell him that!” you throw in, not wanting the order in which you had your things arranged to be touched with.

Hobi laughs in response, “I’ll make sure to tell Jungkook that,” so that was his name, Jungkook. Not too much of a common name in Korea, interesting, you think.

“So when do I get to meet our new temporary roommate?” you ask in eagerness, curiosity a driving force.

Hobi sighs recalling his text from not too long ago, “Well he was supposed to come here and celebrate tonight, giving you two a chance to meet beforehand, but,” he rereads the message on his phone, hoping the three bubbles would pop up at some point before scoffing and ultimately giving up, locking the screen, “I’m not entirely too sure if he’s going to make it.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you get up from the bar stool and stretch out your arms, yawning in turn, “Mm well I guess I’ll just meet him on move in day,” you joke around, glancing at the time on your phone, “but for now I need to go pee before the countdown, there’s only like 10 minutes left,” you exclaim, surprised by how fast the hour had gone by. Hobi nods in response, getting up himself and making his way to the dance floor, joining your group of friends.

And so you begin to walk towards the ladies’ room, humming yourself a tune over the EDM music that was currently close to rupturing your eardrum. How people liked this kind of music was something you’d never understand, but to each their own right? Luckily you weren’t as drunk as you thought you were, the effects of the tequila only acting as something quick and not long lasting. Now in more of a buzzed state than “drunk”.

“MmmMmmMmm,” you hum, pushing the door of the ladies room and making your way into one of the stalls. But what you saw once you opened the restroom stall was … um …. it was safe to say that you were shocked at the sight in front of you. Shocked to the point where you couldn’t even properly react, not even a shriek coming out of your mouth.

Instead you just stood there, wide eyed, at the sight of a brown haired woman on her knees, with her hair in a messy ponytail giving um … oral … on what you could only describe as a very very handsome man.

Now if you were to ask if he was really all that into it? Well it seemed a bit unclear considering how the two of you were now having a complete stare down, a shocked expression on your face while he had a stoic one on his, until slowly a small smirk began to appear on his face.

He scoffs before saying, “Enjoying the view?” and with that you finally shriek and quickly close the stall dorm, practically running out the door because not only were you embarrassed by the situation that just happened but still in complete shock.

“Oh my God,” you breathe out, leaning your head against the wall in an attempt to process what just happened. And once you did, you facepalmed yourself in frustration, mad at the reaction you had because God was that embarrassing.

You had acted as if you’d never seen, hell, as if you’d never done the dirty with someone, but for some reason walking in on someone receiving their um... pleasure… had you feeling like a kid who didn’t know about the birds and the bees. And his little comment only added salt to the wound, he probably thought you were enjoying the view with how long you had stayed there standing like an idiot!

“Start grabbing your partners everyone because the countdown is happening in exactly three minutes everybody! Three minutes till we enter 2019!” Three minutes?! You had to find your friends quick! Pushing off what happened to the back of your mind, you speed walk back to the main sector of the club, looking through the crowd of people in hopes of finding at least one of your friends.

“Where could he b—Ah!” you impulsively squeal once you spot Hobi along with the rest of your friends, quickly making your way towards them, Hobi spotting you as well.

“There you are! What took you so long?” Hobi asks, but just as you’re about to answer, a voice from behind interrupts.

“I caught traffic, and well parking was a bitch,” the voice, all too familiar, sends a feeling of panic through your body because turning to face the owner of said voice, was just as surprising as the scene you walked in on only moments ago.

“Y/N! This is Jungkook, Jungkook this is Y/N, my roommate I was telling you about,” Hobi shouts over the music, and all you can do is stare at the man in front of you wide eyed. Your mouth slightly agape in shock, while Jungkook on the other hand has a teasing grin on his face, as only the two of you knew what had transpired in the ladies’ restroom. He sticks his hand out for you to shake and you notice the small number of tattoos that cover his hand.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we got one minute on the clock! Start saying your goodbyes to 2018, and get ready to say hello to 2019!” The DJ shouts excitedly, lowering the music for the countdown that’s about to begin.

“Earth to Y/N?” Hobi says waving his hand in front of you, having left Jungkook with his hand open for quite some time now.

“Oh,” you say, bringing yourself back to reality and shaking his hand in return, but the moment you do he brings you in for a small friendly hug, “What a small world,” he whispers into your ear, winking at you as he pulls away.

Hobi, unaware of how you two originally met, rolls his eyes, “Hey, hey hey, she’s our roommate not some girl you can go messing around with,” Hobi says, “Now come on you two, there’s only 15 seconds left!” gently he shoves the two of you towards your groups of friends who were now wearing their New Year’s props which included giant sunglasses, feathered boa’s, and more.

“In 10, 9, 8 , 7, 6…” everyone begins to scream the numbers of the countdown, 2018 clearly leaving with a bang, “5,4,3!” you suddenly feel an arm wrap over your shoulder, and like in the movies a part of you expected it to be the man you just met, but thankfully enough it was Jimin who was clearly drunk, excited, and in clear need of catching his balance. But of course that didn’t mean someone didn’t have their eyes on you from afar…

“2, 1! Happy New Year!” The fog machine erupts and the strings of golden confetti begin to fall from the club’s ceiling. Cheers to the New Year.

Clutching your stomachs in laughter, the two of you poke fun at the recollection of that fatal first encounter, “I really walked in on you getting,” you heave in such a way that you’re incapable of completing the sentence, genuine laughter filling the air.

“Hey, you were the one who stood there like you’d never seen a—” playfully you push his shoulder before even he gets the chance to finish his own sentence.

“Like what you see?” you exaggeratingly mimic his voice from that night, lowering your voice by several octaves. He cries out in laughter, tears now forming in the corners of his eyes, feeling cringe at his choice of words from a year ago today. Who did he think he was? “The woman didn’t even bother to look up! Clearly you had her enamored in what she was doing!” you tease, and in response he wraps his arms around you in a playful manner, telling you that he didn’t want to hear any more.

“What even happened when I left?” you ask, curious to know the answer considering you only knew what you did afterwards.

“Well I overheard the DJ yell about the countdown so I had to cut it short, and well we exchanged numbers. I mean it wasn’t at all a drunk hookup or anything, I was sober, she was sober. I think I went out with her once afterward, but,” he shrugs his shoulders, “It was just meant to be a one time thing I guess,” he mumbles, shaking his head in slight shame and embarrassment. See a year ago, hookups like that were the norm for him, but a year ago he was also nothing like the person he was now. Was it for the better? He’d like to think so.

Shaking your head, you mumble, “To think our relationship would only get worse,” you stare at him accusingly, “no thanks to you!” He stays silent, not bothering to deny the accusation.

“Hey you didn’t make it any easier!” he huffs, “Do you need help with that? What’s that? I don’t think that should be placed there,” he mocks your questions from that day many months ago, move in day.

“I was just trying to be nice! Make things less awkward, you know?” you feel your cheeks get red, now seeing how pushy you had probably been.

He scoffs, “No you just didn’t want your things invaded with mine,” it was now your turn to stay silent.

“Mm,” you hum.

January 2019.

“I don’t think that should go there,” you whisper to Hobi, watching Jungkook place more of his things around your apartment, secretly hoping it was the last batch.

This had to at least be your 15th complaint today, but what bothered Jungkook more was that not only wouldn’t you tell it to his face, but they’d be said in such a superficial tone. He didn’t care if you were trying to be “nice”, it sounded fake and prissy and he’d prefer it if you could just shut up for one moment. People like you were just so… annoying, and to think he thought you were cute.

“Do you need help?” your voice interrupts his train of thought, your figure now looming over his shoulder, and attempting to look at the content of his cardboard boxes. Harshly, he closes the flaps, momentarily scowling at you before taking a deep breath and putting on his best face.

“No it’s fine, I’m almost done but thank you though,” he says, now his turn to be superficial.

“Oh well just let me know if you need anything,” you smile, as unbeknownst to Jungkook, you really were just this nice of a person. Yeah, things may still be a little awkward on your part because of what happened on New Years Eve, you of course having to pep talk yourself several times in the mirror this morning, but to you it was important you established some kind of friendship with your new roommate. Even if he wasn’t going to be here for long.

“I’m gonna go get us takeout,” Hobi announces, not only tired but hungry from having helped Jungkook carry his stuff upstairs to the apartment floor all day, because out of all days in the year, today the elevator just had to be out of service. “I’ll be back,” he says, grabbing his keys from the counter and making his way out. Leaving you and Jungkook to yourselves.

An awkward silence fills the living room air, Jungkook currently taking a small break on the long couch, while you sit on the short one, fidgeting with your fingers. Maybe you should make conversation? It wouldn’t hurt right?

“So Jungkook,” you begin nervously, he looks up from his phone and places his attention on you, a stoic expression on his face, “um..”, you mentally scold yourself for not already having a question prepared before speaking, “where are you from?”

Furrowing his eyebrows, he scoffs, “Korea?” he says, as if stating the obvious.

Feeling flustered, you reiterate your question, “No I mean like where did you move from, you know…” your voice lowers at the end.

He sighs before responding, his attention now back on his phone, “I was in the states for a while, but I’m originally from Busan.”

Immediately you light up, seeing this as an opportunity to further the conversation, “Oh I have a friend from there, I don’t know if you met him on New Years, but his name is Jimin!” you excitedly ramble, “He was the one with the dirty blonde hair, black turtleneck, sparkly jac—”

“Yeah I know,” Jungkook rudely interrupts, now getting up from the couch and walking towards his new room, “Let me know when Hobi’s back, yeah? I’m freaking starving,” and with that he enters his room and shuts the door, leaving you slightly taken back.

“Will do,” you quietly mumble to yourself, a little hurt to say the least by his cold action. Shrugging it off, you excuse it by assuming he was just grumpy. You were sure that he'd be more open to having conversation after settling his things in.

That night after cleaning a couple of your own things, and eating the food Hobi had brought, you remained in bed and on your laptop, Youtube surfing the rest of the night away. That was of course until you heard the sound of your restroom door opening and closing. Right away you get up, already knowing what transpired, but wanting to see the mess that was most likely made with your own two eyes.

Walking into your restroom, you’re immediately hit with the scent of your strawberry shampoo and lavender body wash mixed in with the foggy steam that was created, a result of an extremely hot shower. The sink, a travesty to look at, was spilled with water all over and you did not even want to get started on the “manly” products that were now side to side with yours behind the mirror’s cabinet. Meanwhile, your hair brush was covered in strands of dark brown hair that clearly weren’t yours. But the final straw? Finding the cap of your $100 dollar serum halfly screwed closed with remnants dripping down the bottle.

Shutting the cabinet, you practically stomp out of your restroom and immediately towards Jungkook’s door. Raising your hand to knock, you take in a deep breath, reminding yourself to be calm. Maybe Hobi didn’t tell him anything about using your restroom. This was only going to be a one time thing until you cleared it out with him.

Gently, you knock on his door, patiently awaiting his response. You could hear the sound of muffled music playing in the background, meaning it was probably much louder inside the room than out. Raising your hand to knock again, the door swings open just as you’re about to tap against the black wooden door. A shirtless Jungkook with your baby blue towel wrapped around his waist.

“Yes?” he smugly says, your cheeks almost an embarrassing shade of crimson. It’s hard to not look at what’s in front of you, but you manage.

“Oh um—” you fluster your words, “um —” you gulp before finding your words again, “I was hoping Hobi had told you about the bathroom situation…but um..I guess he didn’t so um yeah, my bathroom is only for me to us—”

“He did,” he cuts you off, huffing a small laugh.

“He what?” you asked, unsure of what he was referring to, or at least acting dense about it because you did not want to believe that the shirtless boy in front of you completely disregarded the simple rule he was supposed to follow.

“He told me about the whole bathroom rearrangement, buuuuttt,” he teases, “your restroom has the bigger shower and well add strawberry scented shampoo and lavender body wash into the mix and honestly it was a done deal for me,” he stretches his arms above himself, dramatically yawning, his abdomen stretching out in such a way that the towel on his waist was barely clinging onto its dear life.

“But—But—”

“But what?” he cocks his head to the side, amused by your panicked behavior, “It’s also the closest one to me so,” he shrugs his shoulders, “Well if that’s all you came here for then, goodnight,” he winks at you before turning around and slamming the door once again.

You stand there bewildered by what just happened, your mouth agape in shock. Did that really just happen or? Because if it did then he practically just told you that he didn’t give one single fuck.

Making your way back to your room, you’re unsure on how to feel about everything that just happened because sure you’ve encountered your fair share of rude people before but to live with one was a completely different story. And Jungkook wasn’t only rude, he was the smug kind, the “I know I’m good looking, so I can treat anyone the way I want to because my good looks will let me get away with it,” type of rude. Was it a little specific? Yes. But it’s true. Honestly, it was the type of person you thought only existed in rom-coms but clearly they exist in real life. Jungkook being a prime example of such an attitude.

“Just a couple of months,” you breathe out, throwing yourself onto your bed in exasperation, “until he gets settled down in Seoul,” you repeat Hobi’s words from New Years Eve to yourself, sighing before allowing slumber to sweep over you.

“So much for a couple of months,” you tease Jungkook, nudging his shoulder a little bit because a year later and he was still your roommate, and ironically it was you and Hobi who practically begged him to stay.

He scrunches his nose, “ I don’t see you complaining.”

You raise your hands in defense, “I’m just kiddinnn,” you sing, “What would I do without your buttermilk pancakes huh?” you grin at him, his eyes rolling playfully in return.

“Is that all you want from me? Pancakes!” he chuckles, “Ah I should’ve known,” he shakes his head. The two of you giggle at each other’s banter, his high pitched laugh truly infectious.

“What do you think y/n and Jungkook from the beginning of 2019 would think of this scene right now?” you ask, knowing the answer.

Jungkook ponders at the question for a moment before letting out a deep breath and answering, “Mm I think they’d have a hard time believing what’s in front of them, at least I would. I think you would be happy to see that your goal in becoming friends with your new roommate worked out just fine. It just took a bit of time was all…”

February 2019.

To say that you were struggling to live with Jungkook would probably be the biggest understatement of the year. From the constant use of your things without permission, to the blatant rude remarks he’d constantly throw at you, to the days where he’d be completely cold to you and the rest of the world, and don’t even let you get started on the constant women he’d bring over. You’d have to invest in some ear plugs soon if it kept going at the rate it was because at this point you knew Jungkook liked it um … rough … so to speak.

You found yourself asking Hobi, “Has he settled down yet?” wayyyy too often. Sometimes it felt like Jungkook was purposely baiting you to stoop to his level, like as if he was itching to play a game of cat and mouse. And so for you to continuously suck it up and put on a fake smile for him, only made him do more things to bother you.

He was like a mosquito pestering you at the back of your neck. He wouldn’t stop until he got his fangs, or whatever it was that mosquitos used to bite, into you. For what reason? You truly did not know, for you have been nothing but nice to him since the day he moved in.

You often wondered how Hobi could put up with it, you mean Jungkook wasn’t exactly mean to Hobi, but he did throw remarks and eye rolls here and there. The best way to describe it was that Jungkook was treating you two like punching bags, and a part of you wanted to know why? Not only why, but where? Where is Jungkook from? Why was he in the states? What made him come back? Why can’t he go back to Busan? Does he have family? How does Hobi even know the dude? Why does Jungkook wake up with a stick up his ass every morning? Why was Jungkook angry at the world and when did he decide that he was going to take it out on you two, especially you. Honestly you were unsure if you’d ever get answers to your questions, but it wouldn’t matter in a couple of weeks when he was gone, right?

Luckily though the only times you really did see Jungkook was on weekends, and even then if you weren’t out doing some nightly festivities then he was. Or while you went grocery shopping he was working out or something, Not to mention that weekdays you worked AM shifts at your job while Jungkook, who had been hooked up with a job at one of the coffee shop’s Hobi managed, worked afternoon to night shifts.

This meant that whenever you were going to work, Jungkook was catching up on his sleep and vice versa. But occasionally when you two did bump paths, let’s say going to your restroom, he definitely used those opportunities to try and get under your skin. Each and every time, failing to do so.

But today something was different. You weren’t sure if it was because as you were driving to work, coffee spilled onto your shirt at a speed bump because someone stole your favorite coffee thermo which had a securable lid. This then caused you to be 30 minutes late which then resulted in you receiving your first ever official warning. Or maybe it was because you had to not only stay an extra 30 minutes, but an extra hour because someone’s late night hook up the night prior kept you up and completely unfocused. You personally had chosen to go to sleep than stay up and listen to some girl screaming about how much deeper she wanted it while trying to type up your monthly report. And then of course who could forget the cherry on top? Coming back home to that same certain someone, and having to deal with the accusations that you stole his banana milk.

“I didn’t steal anything,” you mumble, warming up the japchae Hobi had left for you on the stove. Jungkook gets up and opens the fridge door, dramatically showing you the empty spot where his banana milk was usually at.

“Well someone did, and Hobi says it wasn’t him and well I trust Hobi so,” Jungkook shrugs, looking at you with a deadpan look on his face. Sadly, Hobi probably asleep already, tired from what you assumed was a long day of work and the thing about Hobi was once he went to sleep there was no waking him up. That boy could sleep through the world ending, “I don’t exactly think it’s beneath you to steal my things…” he says, each one of his words dripping with venom.

You?! Stealing his things?! When he’s the one who's been taking your things left and right?? If he had caught you on any other day, you probably would’ve shrugged his accusations off, hell you might’ve even taken the blame and offer to buy him a new pack. But right now, you could feel your blood almost boiling. How dare he!

“I,” your voice rises, completely ready to go off on the boy, until you hear a door slam, Hobi coming out completely groggy and clearly annoyed.

“Will you two just,” his voice is heavy, sighing in frustration, “Y/N just go and eat in your room,” he says, feeling like a parent to two fighting siblings.

“But—” you’re about to fight your case, until Hobi interrupts.

“Y/N…” he looks at you in despair, his tone a clear indicator that he wasn’t mad, he wasn’t annoyed, he was just tired. You grab your food from the stove, having to pass by Jungkook as you leave the kitchen.

“Was little miss saccharine finally going to pop?” he scoffs, the two of you momentarily having a stare down, until quickly you compose yourself, the fake smile he knew all too well back on your face.

“Goodnight Jungkook,” you say, before making your way back into your room, peeved that Hobi scolded you and not Jungkook, that was until you heard the sound of muffled voices through your closed door.

If you wanted to get a better listen you were going to have to crack open the door without making a single sound, something that would be embarrassing if you managed to fail. Deciding that you were too nosy for your own good, you thankfully succeed in doing so, their voices sounding much clearer to your ears.

“You know she’s having a bad day, and yet—” you hear the sound of Hobi flapping his arms in despair, “and yet you still make her your target of the day,” he says.

“What are you talking about?” Jungkook asks, his voice telling you that he was ready to go on the defense.

“Jungkook let’s not act dense,” Hobi says, “What are we in preschool? You have some crush, and think being mean will get you your way with her?” Hobi accuses, which Jungkook immediately denies.

“She wishes,” he mumbles in return, “I treat her like I treat everyone,” he clarifies, almost sounding proud.

“No you treat her worse,” Hobi adds, “if you’re not giving her some backhanded compliment then you’re completely giving her the cold shoulder. I probably only get half of what she does, and even I’m getting fed up with it, so I could only imagine how she feels,” he sighs, “but Y/N is a very very nice person, and since that first day I met her in till even today, I have never seen her get mad at anyone, but you my friend are,” he pauses, trying to think of the best way to describe it, “well you’re pushing buttons that I’ve never seen pushed.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, “Yeah because her whole act of “I’m miss goody two shoes and can never even hurt a fly” act is such bullshit,” he drops his air quotes, “a grown ass woman acting like telling someone off will add some kind of dent to the image I’m sure has taken her a very long time to build.”

With every word he says, you could feel your stomach drop further and further down. The lump in your throat desperate to be let out. “She probably has you and the rest of the world fooled, but I can see right through it. It’s people like her who will lie to your face, and tell you everything you want to hear because they don’t want to be painted out as some bad guy. And let me tell you people like that are much worse than me because at least I have the balls to tell it like it is to someone’s face rather than protect my own ego, ” he finishes his rant, the veins on his neck faintly popping.

Hobi remains silent for a moment, taking in everything Jungkook said, then pushing his hair back with his hand, an indicator that he was stressed, “Look man, I’m letting you stay here so you can get back on your feet, and because you didn’t want go back to Busan,” he sighs, knowing he’s stepping on broken glass, “I don’t know what happened over there in the states, and I’m not gonna ask about it because I’m sure you’ll talk about it the day you’re ready to,” he pauses, “But what I do know is that you’re right, Y/N does fake her persona from time to time…” you feel your heart drop, while Jungkook’s face goes smug. That is until Hobi continued with what he was saying, “But the same way I’m not gonna ask you about why you came back to Korea a completely cold person, I’m not gonna question why she acts the way it does, especially because it's not hurting anyone.”

“Of course you wo—”

Hobi cuts him off before he can continue, “Let me finish,” he sternly says, his brows knitted, “But as long she keeps letting her feelings build up the way I’m assuming they are, and you keep acting the way you are now then—” he sighs, “There’s going to be a day where the water in the pot is going to boil over and well I don’t wanna be here when it happens,” his presses his lips together, shaking his head at the mere idea, “All I ask for Jungkook is that you try to be a little nicer to her, just for once. I think the two of you would actually be pleasantly surprised at how much in common you have,” Jungkook tries his best to bite his tongue, seeing just how tired his friend looked, “Maybe not even nice to her, just decent. Can you do me that favor?”

Jungkooks lets out a huff of air before silently nodding his head yes, Hobi giving him a small smile in return, “Thanks Jungkook, now I can actually go to sleep instead of hearing you two bicker,” he says before tapping on his shoulder and going back into his room. You, on the other hand, quickly wipe any droplets that fall from your eyes, closing the door before Hobi could notice the crack that was there.

Jungkook sits in the kitchen chair for a while, reflecting on the lecture Hobi just gave him. Hating that the feeling of guilt was beginning to seep in because unlike Hobi, before his little lecture, Jungkook knew that there had been a pair of ears listening in and he knew you could hear every word that came out of his mouth as your little attempt to crack open the door wasn’t as slick as you thought it was ….he just hadn’t cared.

“Just be decent,” Jungkook whispers to himself before turning off the kitchen lights and heading to bed. The two of you lying in your own beds at night, a lot on each other's mind.

“And to think Hobi ended up predicting everything that was going to happen,” Jungkook shakes his head, remembering his friend’s warning to him.

“That’s our Hobi,” you laugh, “always one step ahead, well when he wants to be of course,” you add, a small chuckle coming out of Jungkook’s mouth in response.

“You think he knew what he was doing the whole time?” Jungkook asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Like in terms of allowing everything to play out, you know? Because if he wanted to he could’ve kicked me out from the beginning…” you ponder on his question for a bit, thinking back to Hobi’s role in this whole tale.

“Mm I think he knew but was probably unsure the whole time, you know? Unsure if things would work out the way he set em up to be, I don’t know if he’ll ever tell us but…” you pause, “I think he knew what he was doing from the moment he told you that you could live with us, and I definitely think it was bullshit on his part when he said that he didn’t know what happened to you in the states,” you laugh because you could picture Hobi doing his own research on Google late at night, “So I guess he just knew that there were two people in his life in desperate need of a…” you look for the right word to describe it.

“Reality check?” Jungkook fills in for you, but you shake your head no.

“Mm,” you hum, “No, I dont think thats the way to put it, hmm, how about this…” you pause one last time before continuing, wanting to make sure you said everything correctly, “Hobi had two pieces to a puzzle that needed to connect together in order to complete said puzzle, but after lots of tosses and turns in their box well the two pieces just didn’t fit together anymore. In fact they refused to even try and fit with another, deciding that they were going to live with their new flaps and dents, and ignoring the fact that in order to complete the puzzle they needed to come together,” you let out a small laugh, “and so Hobi took a gamble, and decided to leave the pieces alone for the time being, in hopes that maybe, just maybe with a little bit more tosses and turns they’d realize that by coming together they’d be left with nothing but a beautiful image to show,” a warm smile appears on your face, “Yeah I think I like how that sounds, what do you think?” you turn to face Jungkook who was staring at you with his doe-eyed expression, completely speechless.

“Or was I too wordy?” you laugh, “I reached didn’t I?” you begin to ramble, “Ah I really need to—” suddenly you feel a cold finger pressed against your lips, Jungkook sounding a tiny “shh” soon after.

“I think it was perfect,” Jungkook softly whispers, what could only be described as a loving smile on his face. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, feeling your cold face get warmed up due to the heat that was rising from your cheeks. Reminding you of a memory from only months ago…

March 2019.

“Remind me why I’m going again?” you walk out of the hallway and into the living room, heels clicking against the wooden floor.

“Because you are tonight’s designated driver,” Hobi reminds you, “and well we all don’t fit in Seokjin’s mini cooper so there’s that,” he laughs. You sigh in return, looking at your reflection for the 100th time tonight. “Jungkook, you almost ready?” Hobi shouts from the living room, not keen on his friend’s habit of always getting ready at the last minute.

Tonight was one of, if not the only, rare occasions that both you and Jungkook would be at an outing together, and even then Hobi was always with you two, acting as the facilitator. Jungkook and you usually parted your separate ways the moment you’d arrive somewhere, especially at parties. And so today you didn’t really expect anything different.

It had been about a month since Hobi’s little lecture to Jungkook, and in a way it did have some kind of positive effect on Jungkook. These days he was now much more quiet and reserved, and honestly you preferred the cold shoulder over the constant attitude so you were definitely not complaining.

You were even surprised this morning when you found your bathroom products to be completely replaced by new bottles, including your serum! Of course they had been slightly used, meaning Jungkook wasn’t going to let go of his grip on them just yet, but at least it meant that he had the decency to realize that if he was going to be using them all the time, then it was only right that he occasionally paid for them.

Even last week when you heard him mumble a small, “that was good, thank you,” after making gyeran-mari’s for breakfast, you had to look at Hobi for confirmation that it really happened. Hell, he had even stopped constantly bringing women over, instead beginning to work out more often as you would now hear his grunts come from doing sit ups than from doing um… yeah. It looked like he even had a knack for boxing because you soon noticed how he’d come back home with hands wrapped in bandages or his gloves stringing along his duffel bag. Honestly, it was a little hot, but you’d rather die before admitting that to anyone.

“Ah I’m done, I’m done,” a voice comes out the hallway, Jungkook balancing on his right foot in a rush to put on his left shoe. Tonight he was dressed a little differently than his usual self, replacing his usual black attire and black combat boots for a more club friendly look of ripped blue jeans, black ankle boots, and a black fitted t-shirt. Of course not straying too far from his personal style. The new tattoo he had gotten recently was also in clear view tonight, his sleeve coming along quite nice in your opinion. He had recently even gotten his hair permed, allowing it to grow out longer than what you were used to seeing. It was crazy what a difference hair could make because it definitely made him look … better, in your eyes at least.

All this change on his part, honestly made you feel a little dull, but that’d be something to dwell on for another day. For now, you just wanted to get tonight over with. The faster you got there, the quicker you could leave, and the earlier you could be in bed.

“You took a whole ass hour for this?” Hobi eyes Jungkook up and down. Jungkook is quick to shoot him an offended look, while you on the other hand are struggling to suppress a laugh, “I’m not saying you look bad, in fact you look amazing, but this should not take you an hour!” Jungkook rolls his eyes, combing a hand through his hair.

“Are we going to get going or what?” he says, his cheeks tinged pink in embarrassment.

Once you all arrived, you were quick to meet up with the rest of your friends, everyone having pitched in for bottle service. Jungkook, who had become pretty cool with the rest of everyone, sat between Yoongi and Namjoon, all three of them laughing at God knows what. The bottle they had bought almost halfway done.

You on the other hand, were just watching everyone, the only person besides yourself who wasn’t drunk was Seokjin, and even then he was too busy with his new girlfriend to pay you any attention. Not that you really minded considering she really was a kind person and well who could blame Seokjin for being head over heels. They even shared the same humor, something that was quite rare to find.

You weren’t sure if it was because tonight the club seemed extra packed, or maybe the dress you were wearing was feeling a little too tight or maybe it was the stench of all alcohol getting to you but something definitely fell off. And you did not like it one bit.

“Hey I’m gonna go out back and get some fresh air outside,” you tell Hobi over the music, giving you a small nod in acknowledgement, the boy was clearly very drunk. The moment you stepped out, you definitely did feel better, the crispy fresh air outside almost making you feel as if you were breathing for the first time. That was until you heard the sound of someone arguing.

“I saw you dancing with her! Stop trying to gaslight me into thinking you weren’t!” a woman screams, very much in distress by who you assumed was her boyfriend, “God, I knew I should’ve listened to my mom, you are a pig! And I deserve a man who's going to—

“What did you just say?” he grabs her by the arm, his atrocious grip surely going to cause her a bruise later on.

“Let go of me!” she cries, as he then grabs her by the hair, ready to toss her to the floor and do whatever else he wanted to do with her. You feel your breathing become heavier, watching the scene unfold in front of you, unsure of what to do. You were scared and you didn’t know how to defend yourself, let alone someone else. But you also knew that God forbid you were ever in that situation, you wouldn't want someone turning a blind eye on you, so you did what was only right.

“Hey!” you scream while walking towards the couple, catching the man’s attention, “Let go of her before I—”

“Before you what?” he lets go of her hair, now walking towards you as well. The woman watches you with shaky eyes, having never guessed that her savior would be a woman in black string heels and a face that for the most part was not at all intimidating.

You reach into your purse, hoping to get a feel for either your taser or pocket knife, but of course, of fucking course, on all days of the year it was no where to be found. Nonetheless, you muster up your courage and respond, “Before I call security,” you say, trying your best to sound confident.

He laughs, dramatically looking around to show you that no one around was here to help, “Anyone ever teach you to mind your fucking business, like how a woman should,” you gulp, almost losing balance while taking a step back as he only gets closer, “Huh?! Anyone every fucking teach you that?” he closes in on you, your back soon hitting the wall that was behind you.

“Just leave her alone!” the woman screams in hysteria.

“You stay the fuck out of it! You’re the whole reason she’s in this mess,” he mutters, his words completely slurred and his breath reeking like alcohol. You almost feel like vomiting at the accidental whiff you take because wow was this man just disgusting.

“See maybe if you would’ve just gone about your day, you wouldn’t be here right now,” he makes a ticking sound with his mouth, mocking you, “but” he sighs, “I guess whores just have to stick with each other, huh?” he grabs you by the scalp of your hair, this time not hesitating to throw you to the ground.

“Oh my—” the woman screams, panic flowing through her veins.

“Go!” you yell at her, giving her the chance to escape even if it meant sacrificing your own wellbeing. She hesitates for a moment before running, the sound of her heels tapping against the pavement was one of the last things you could hear before the ringing in your ears became all too much.

You look at your hands for a moment, the stinging feeling almost unbearable as they had taken most of the impact of the fall, along with your knees. A part of you hoped he had left, that he had somehow magically disappeared or that you’d wake up to find that this was nothing more than a nightmare. But it wasn’t until you felt the grip of his hand on your hair again, that you’d come to realize the reality of your situation and that there was absolutely no one to help you.

The man lifts up his free hand, building power for the punch he was preparing to throw, as you could only throw your arms in front yourself in an attempt to minimize the impact of the punch. By now tears were falling from freely your eyes, small whimpers and sniffles coming out of fear. The final words you hear being spat from his mouth were, “you stupid bitch,” and in your head you count to three, waiting for the feeling of his fist against your face. But it never came.

Instead you feel the release of his hand on your scalp, and when you open your eyes you find him on the ground, not completely knocked out but he might as well be with just how out of it he looked. And though you weren’t drunk, you almost felt as if you were because absolutely everything around you was overlapping, hardly able to see anything in clear focus. But what you could make out was that there was a figure, and by the build you assume was a man, now sitting over the drunkard, throwing several punches at him. His goal was either to knock the man out or make sure he suffered every way possible before knocking him out.

You stand there for a moment in shock as you hear the person’s voice, a voice that was all too familiar, “I dare you to fucking lay a hand on her again, I fucking dare you!” Jungkook yells, throwing another punch at the man, “Who the fuck do you think you are?” slowly your vision becomes clearer as you wipe away the tears that had been blocking your vision, and soon you realize if Jungkook kept going at the rate he was, the man was going to be killed.

Quickly you run towards Jungkook, attempting to grab his right arm before he swings again, “Jungkook stop!” you yell, but instead he pushes your arm away, too caught up in his rage to think straight. The drunk man looked as if he was barely holding on, blood now all over his face. “I said stop!” you yell at the top of your lungs, the veins on your neck popping. Jungkook, panting, looks up at you, momentarily stopping. “Just stop,” you cry, wanting this nightmare to be over.

Jungkook looks at the barely conscious man one more time, pulling him by the collar of his shirt so that he’d get a good look of him, “If I ever see you again, I won’t hesitate to—”

“Jungkook,” you stop him from finishing his sentence.

He sighs, “Just be glad she’s here because scum like you deserve to fucking rot,” he says, letting go of the man’s collar and allowing his head to hit the pavement. He gets up from his position and begins to pat his black shirt of any dirt, catching his breath along the way. “You okay?” he asks, intensely staring at you.

But before you could respond, a voice screams, “Hey!” the two of you look up at said voice, only to find a security guard with a flashlight in his hand and his walky talky on the other.

Jungkook quickly grabs you by the hand, causing you to wince at the sudden touch, “Come on,” he says, pulling you to follow him.

He leads you back to the parking lot, confusion evidently on your face. It wasn’t until you turned back to find several security guards following after you that everything began to click together, panic now flowing through your veins. Hurriedly, you grab Hobi’s keys from your purse and unlock the door, your heart beating out of your chest.

Jungkook quickly hops in the passenger seat, his head throbbing from the amount of drinks he’s had, watching as you struggle to put the key in the ignition, clearly in a state of anxiousness. He yanks the keys from your hands and places them in himself, “Now drive!” he shouts, causing you to step ferociously on the gas pedal. Burning tire as you race off the parking lot.

“God my head is fucking killing me,” Jungkook complains, his blood stained hands resting on his temple. By now the two of you were heading back home, Jungkook having texted Hobi through your phone that he was going to have to get a ride from Seokjin. For the situation you two were just in had required an immediate escape.

You on the other hand were driving in complete silence, still in a state of shock of what just happened. Jungkook having to constantly remind you that you were driving, several instances of you zoning out at a stop light happening way too often for his liking.

“I am way too drunk for this shit,” he mutters under his breath, the reality of what just happened beginning to kick in. The queasy feeling in his stomach became more and more unbearable with every turn you took. And don’t even get him started on his throat, which was currently as dry as the Sahara Desert. “Is there some kind of water in this car?” he asks, beginning to look through the car console and glove compartment.

“I don’t,” you pause and sigh, “I don’t know.”

“Then pull over here,” he deadpans.

You furrow your brows in confusion, “What?”

“Pull over,” he repeats, his patience running out.

Not questioning him a second time, you do exactly that, pulling over at the side of some park near your apartment. Jungkook takes in a deep breath before opening the door and sticking his head out, seconds later the sound of him vomiting making you feel as queasy as he did.

“Oh God,” you mumble to yourself, just wanting to be in bed already. But of course that wasn’t going to happen because soon enough Jungkook was getting out of the car and going to God knows where. “Where are you going?” you shout, as he walks towards the park.

“I need water,” he says, “You coming or what?” you contemplate on whether to follow him or not, before ultimately exiting the car and locking it. With the way he was stumbling his footsteps, it was better safe than sorry to follow him.

“BogoShipda!” Jungkook sings loudly to the trees in the park, all of the alcohol he drank at the club still running through his system. You stare at him in surprise, having never seen him act like this before, as he continues to sing.

“Now where’s a water fountain when you need one,” he mumbles, the darkness of the night sky making it hard for him to scan his surrounding area. You found yourself feeling a little scared in fact. The silhouette of the trees and the sound of the wind softly pushing against the branches only making the atmosphere more scary.

“Ah there it is!” Jungkook slurs his words, sounding like a kid at a carnival. Once he’s in front of the fountain, he pushes against the button, the water sprouting out of the fountainhead. You stare at him in silence as he hadn’t crouched down to drink yet, thus confusing you.

It wasn’t until you felt a tug at your hand and the sting of the water hitting against your scrapes that you felt like punching him. “What are you doing?” you ask, trying your best not to sound too peeved.

He looks at you before rolling his eyes, “What do you think I’m doing? I’m cleaning your hands,” he signals for you to give him your other hand, and without thinking you comply.

“I could’ve done this at home,” you say.

“I know, but the longer we wait the higher chance it'll end up getting infected by dirt so,” he looks at you with a know it all expression, and you mumble a small “I guess,” under your breath, the stinging sensation soon enough replaced by a cool one, your hands no longer feeling as rusty.

It isn’t until he’s finished that he takes a sip of water, exhaling a small “ahh” sound after downing several gulps. “Come on,” he grabs your hand again, leading you to a park bench with a small lamppost right next to it, providing a smooth yellow dim light.

“Why are we—”

“I just want to sit for a moment without the movement of a car, just for a bit,” he exhales a heavy breath, manspreading on the bench and throwing his head back, “just for a bit,” he repeats, his voice soft.

The two of you sit there in silence, “Why are you staring at me?” he asks with his eyes closed, feeling your intense stare.

“I’m not—I’m not staring,” you stutter, he hums in response. Silence fills the air again, until Jungkook mumbles something that at first is inaudible.

“What?” you ask.

“I said I’m ˢᵒʳʳʸ,” you look at him confused, were you hearing him correctly?

“Wait what?” you ask again, it wasn’t your intention to come off as pushy nor pretentious but you were just seriously surprised as to what you were hearing.

He grumbles before repeating himself, “I said,” he drops his shoulders, “I said I’m sorry.” He opens his eyes to look at you, his usual smug behavior nowhere to be found on his face, he was being completely serious.

“Oh…” you pause for a moment before continuing, “Can I ask for what? I’m not trying to be mean or anything or act dense. I seriously just don’t know why,” you make sure you add those claims at the end, feeling as if you were walking on eggshells.

He looks at you momentarily before placing his view on the trees in front of you, “For not getting there earlier,” he mutters, as if disappointed with himself, “I went out because Hobi had told me to go check up on you, but,” he stays silent for a moment before continuing, clenching his jaw, “at first I sorta shrugged him off when he asked me, it wasn’t until he asked me second time that I actually went outside,” his voice shakes a bit and you notice that his eyes become slightly glossy, “and then a woman came running up to me rambling about someone about to get beaten up, but the last person I thought she was talking about was you,” he exhales loudly before continuing, trying his best to maintain his composure, “but either way I ran towards wherever she was pointing at, and that’s when I saw you on the floor,” his voice cracks, “and I just keep replaying everything in my head, and I just—” he closes his eyes and shakes his head, “I’m just sorry and I felt like you deserved to know that,” he concludes, a tear falling from his face.

And maybe it was because he was drunk, or maybe he just really did feel bad, but to see Jungkook this vulnerable was different to say the least. It was almost humanizing in some aspects.

Jungkook expected you to scream at him, to tell him that it was his fault you were put in that situation. That he could’ve prevented it from happening, that because of him you almost got beat to a bloody pulp.

No, in fact he doesn't expect you to, he wants you to. It’s what he deserves to hear from you. Had it not been for him and his ego, he would’ve gone out there the moment Hobi had asked him to, and you would’ve never had to deal with that drunk excuse of a human being to begin with. Or was the alcohol in his system just seriously getting to him because God did he feel sick.

“Jungkook it’s not your fault,” you begin, but Jungkook who's still looking at the trees, refuses to make eye contact. “Hey look at me,” you demand, tugging his hand in an effort to get him to look at you. When he does so, you continue, “That man was going to attack me whether you came or not because a weak man like that will attack the easiest target,” you state, a small chuckle escaping your lips, “It was no one’s fault but his, you hear me?” you squeeze his hand, “Not yours, not mine, not Hobi’s, not the lady, no one. Absolutely no one.”

More tears begin to fall from his bloodshot eyes, “You don’t get it y/n,” he shakes his head, “You don’t what that man could’ve done to you in that time I wasn’t there, you could’ve been killed for God’s sake,” he attempts to say it firmly, but his voice betrays him by whimpering in the end.

“But he didn’t!” you say, and without thinking you place his hand on your cheek, “I’m right here look! All because of you! Yeah you didn’t get there as early as you wished you could’ve, but you got there nonetheless! And if you hadn’t I probably would be sporting a big old black eye on my face and have one cheek bigger than the other right now. I’d look like one of those chipmunks from Alvin and the Chipmunks!” you laugh at your own joke, and for the first time ever, Jungkook laughs with you. His last first starting off as a small chuckle but the harder you laughed, the harder he did. The beginning to what would be you always hearing his high pitched laugh around the apartment, but let’s not get too far ahead right now.

They say when a human is drunk, they muster up the courage to do something they’d never do sober, but have always thought of doing in the back of their mind. It was often why people would blame a bold text to an ex on being “drunk” despite not taking one sip of their tequila shot, or why some people would excuse cheating on being “drunk” despite knowing it was something they wanted to do for a very long time. They were looking for an excuse to finally do it. And so now sitting here, with his hand caressed across your face, goofy grins plastered on your faces, he felt tempted to just kiss you.

It was weird really, yeah he thought you were cute, in fact there were days he’d found you hot, but anything past physical attraction had never really crossed his mind. To him, you’d always been and currently were his roommate who he found both superficial and performative.

The one who once attempted to hide her strawberry scented shampoo in her room during work, in hopes that he wouldn’t go out of his way to find it. The one who liked her jjolmyeon more on the sour side than the sweet. The one who occasionally made him coffee and breakfast in the mornings, despite him being asleep after a long night of work of barristering. The one who for some odd reason almost never watched Netflix on the TV, but instead would watch it on her laptop on the couch, thus rendering the TV completely useless.

And so to be here, finally appreciating the person that you were after what could’ve been a near-death experience was a bit of a wake up call. And yeah like you said, maybe he didn’t get here as early as he should’ve been, but he got here nonetheless. He smiles to himself, your words having a double meaning behind them.

But for now he wanted to preserve this feeling, because he knew he was drunk. He was so drunk that the tree behind you was beginning to look like it was moving towards him. And so rather than kiss you, he instead decides to simply tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, deciding that if he felt like this tomorrow morning when he was sober then it’d be something worth looking into.

“I’m telling you, if I ever see that man again—”

“It was like,” you count on your fingers, “9 months ago Jungkook, I doubt you even remember his face,” you cut off, patting his shoulder.

“Mm,” he hums, “you’d be surprised how good I am at remembering faces, so when I tell you I’m still waiting for the day I come across him again, I mean it!” you roll your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you sing, “Hey at least something good came out of it,” you smile.

Jungkook looks at you with uncertainty, “Which is?”

Your small smile then becomes a toothy grin, “We became friends!” you exclaim excitedly, “temporarily at least,” you laugh.

April 2019.

It had been about two weeks since the incident at the club. Jungkook having completely avoided you since, and no you weren’t paranoid because originally you thought you were. It first started off with you not seeing him at all around the apartment, which you excused with you two having different work schedules like always. But then you’d notice he wouldn’t even drink the coffee you would make for him in the morning, it being left there on the counter for the entire day.

And in the very rare moments you did manage to get a glimpse of him in the hallway either entering or exiting his room, the boy would completely avoid eye contact with you! But the final confirmation that told you he was avoiding you? He had bought his own shampoo and body wash for himself! Not just any kind, he bought an extra lather version of your own with exfoliating properties. And you didn’t if you could use it or not because, well because he was avoiding you!

It wasn’t like you two kissed or anything! The most that happened was that you two shared a laugh! So then why was he avoiding you like the freaking plague? After a week of thinking about every possible reason he could be, you had given up. You’d accepted that you were back at square one with him, but it wasn’t like you were ever at square two to begin with. And so that’s why yesterday when Hobi told you he’d be going on a morning/afternoon hike trip on Saturday with Namjoon, you were skeptical on how Jungkook would manage to avoid you.

It was also why this morning in bed, when you heard what sounded like furniture being moved at 7 in the freaking morning, you were unsure about getting up and saying something or remaining in bed. Luckily you didn’t have to think about it for too long because you soon heard the sound footsteps coming closer to your bedroom door. As a result, you quickly threw yourself under the covers and pretended to be asleep.

It definitely had to be Jungkook who had just entered your room, the heavy footsteps acting as a signal to you that it was. Your eyes widen when you hear the sound of your drawer being pulled open, “What the hell did he think he was doing? Should you turn around and scare him? Hmm. No,” you think to yourself because soon enough you felt a hand gently shake your body.

“Y/N,” he whispers, clearly in belief that you were asleep. You let him shake you around a little more, just to make your little “I’m just waking up” act a little more believable, “Y/N,” he repeats, and this time you begin to make groggy sounds. Actress of the Year Award : Check.

“Mm,” you hum, but you’re quickly jolted awake when you feel your covers get pulled off of you, “What are you—” you look up at Jungkook, who was dressed in complete workout gear. But what really had you concerned, was the workout clothing he had folded in his hands because well they were yours.

He tosses the matching pair of black leggings and sports bra, “Go change,” he sternly says, only causing you to look at him in further confusion.

“B-b-but-” Jungkook knows you’re about to not only complain, but ask many many questions. Because that’s just the type of person you are.

“Hobi told me you like buttermilk pancakes with extra syrup, but that since yours always come out burnt and his come out too dull, that the only time you get to eat them is if you go to a breakfast restaurant,” you narrow your eyes at him, confused as to where this was leading to, “Well at the coffee shop I work at, we have a weekly Pancake Tuesday and well let’s just say a certain someone has been rated top pancake maker for 2 months now,” you quirk your brow in interest, continuing to listen, a smirk now on his face, “and let’s also say this certain someone has a stack of warm pancakes sitting there on the kitchen island, untouched and certainly uneaten.”

You quickly smile at what he was insinuating, “BUT you can only eat them if you get up, get ready and change in 5 minutes,” he looks at the clock, “starting now.” And in the blink of an eye you were up and running towards your restroom because certainly if that didn’t get you up and out of bed, he wasn’t sure what would.

Quickly you brush your teeth and fix up your hair a bit, curious to know what Jungkook had planned out. To think you thought he was avoiding you! Well he was … but that doesn’t matter anymore! Placing your shoes on you begin to make your way towards the living room, the thought of eating those buttermilk pancakes almost making your mouth drool. That was until you stepped into the living room, stopping dead in your tracks.

Your eyes glaze over everything, blinking veryyy slowly, in order to make sure you were seeing things correctly. Jungkook had transformed your living room into some kind of um … workout center? For boxing? He had everything from the red punching bag, the reflex bag, the speed ball, jump rope, mini dumbbells, and most importantly boxing mitts for some one-on-one training. Everything was an adequate enough size to fit in all into the living room, but not too big in a way that it couldn’t be stored in the extra closet you had in the hallway.

“Why did you—” Jungkook hands you a pair of shiny black boxing gloves, along with bandages.

“I’m going to teach you the basics of boxing,” he presses his lips together, “whether you like it or not,” he says.

“Jungkook I don’t thin—”

“You don’t think what?” he looks at you in a way that tells you he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“I’m not really cut out for this kind of stuff,” you try to make an excuse for yourself anyway, but he wasn’t buying it.

“Because you have no experience, which is exactly why I’m going to teach you,” his brows draw together, a stern look on his face as he now makes eye contact with you, “You can’t just always expect someone to pop out of thin air and come to your rescue y/n, what happened two weeks ago was a mix of both good timing and sheer luck,” he sighs while pulling out a taser and pocket knife from his pocket, “and though this is helpful in many situations, you seem to forget to take these with you,” he scolds, “guess where they were the night at the club?” You stay silent, “the kitchen island,” he answers for you.

“Okay I get it, I get it,” you say, “I need to learn how to protect myself without using those,” you point to the items in his hand.

“Exactly, I’m glad we’re on the same page,” he playfully pats your head, “so we’ll be doing this every weekend for the next eight weeks, from 7AM till 2PM. We might even throw an occasional weekday night in there if I don’t get out of work too late.”

“7AM?!” you shriek, “Oh no no no, you sir are crazy,” you protest, shaking your head in denial, “No amount of pancakes will have me waking up that early every weekend.”

“Oh come on! The more hours you do, the better you’ll get!” he bargains with you, catching you off guard by throwing his arm around your shoulder, your cheeks going red as a result.

“Jungkook,” you dramatically cry out, ready to stomp your feet on the floor like a little kid, the only thing preventing you was you not wanting the downstairs neighbors to come up and complain.

He tightens his grip on you, “Come onnnnn,” he sings, “I’ll let you use my new body wash with the exfoliating properties,” he teases you, having heard you complain to Hobi one morning about being unsure of whether or not you could use it. You truly were too kind for your own good, cause if the situations were reversed, Jungkook would’ve just gone ahead and used it.

You narrow your eyes at him once again, “More like you’re buying me one of my own!” you demand and he nods in agreement, “Also, where did you even manage to get all this?” you ask, genuinely curious as to how he managed to buy all this.

“Um let’s just say I have a buddy at the boxing gym who didn’t really need these anymore,” you stare at him suspiciously, but decide to shrug it off. You’d ask him more questions some other day, but for now all you wanted was to eat those pancakes!

Hobi opens the door to his shared apartment, exhausted from the hike he just had this morning and honestly ready to just hop into bed and sleep. That was until he saw the transformation of his living room in front of his very own eyes, his skin paling and mouth gaping in shock.

“What the—” he whispers, preparing to scream out your names like a parent walking in their house only to find it destroyed by their teenagers, but before he could the sound of something stops him dead in his tracks. It was the sound of soft snores.

Walking towards the sound, which seemed to be coming from the long couch, a smile immediately appears on his face when he comes to see the view in front of him. You were on one side of the couch while Jungkook was on the other, both of your feet stretched out and touching in the middle, napping away. Hobi personally thought he was dreaming, this being a view he never thought he’d see.

Wanting to preserve the memory, he grabs his phone from his pocket and opens up the camera app, snapping the photo in silence, tempted to edit and post the photo with little clouds above each other's heads and make up some witty caption. But he’d save it for some other day. For now, he was just happy you two were finally getting along.

“Ah I had forgotten how that photo came to be,” Jungkook laughs, looking at the photo on your Iphone screen, “you were tired from working out, while I was tired from having to watch you continuously mess around with the equipment,” he pokes fun at you. Not like it wasn’t true, that day you kept going back to the speed ball, aimlessly hitting it in hopes that at some point you’d magically become fast at hitting it like in the movies.

“Hey, I’m pretty decent at doing everything now,” you flash him a cheesy smile. After several weeks of consistent training and long hours, you were definitely at a point where you could adequately defend yourself from someone ranging from a small petite woman to around a medium sized man. Luckily, you haven't come across a situation that has required you to to do so nor do you ever hope to, but it was comforting to know that if something ever did happen, then you were ready. But, your taser and pocket knife would always be your first go to, no matter what.

“You’re…” Jungkook pauses, “okay,” he breathes, huffing a quiet laugh. Out of impulse you flash him the finger, showing off your freshly manicured fingers. “Aren’t you rude,” he says with a dramatic gasp.

You roll your eyes, “You’re the one who taught me,” you laugh, and Jungkook places his hand on his chest, looking at you with a dramatic offended look on his face.

“Me?” he feigns his surprise.

“Yes you! How could I forget,” you look at him accusingly.

“No I taught you how to stop faking a smile, and to start putting a foot down people’s neck,” he shrugs, “not to go sticking out the middle finger,” he jokes, and you only roll your eyes again, grumbling a small “Mm.”

May 2019.

To your surprise, you had been managing to consistently wake up and work out every weekend with Jungkook, with him even being able to up your usual workout plan at a drastic rate. You’d shed a couple of pounds and to your surprise could even see some muscle beginning to form, but today, well today was your monthly lazy day.

Lazy day was the one day of the month where you and Hobi would push everything off your schedule, from calling off of work, to making sure everything in the apartment was clean, and buying snacks the night before in order to make sure you wouldn’t have to step out of the apartment. It was usually picked the month before by either you or Hobi closing your eyes and randomly pointing somewhere on the calendar, and whatever day your index finger managed to land on would be the day. And well today was that day.

But when Hobi told you yesterday night that a family emergency was going to have to bring lazy day to a temporary halt because he had to drive back to Busan, which in itself was a three hour trip from Seoul, you had already called the day off weeks prior as your job wasn’t as lenient on last minute call offs. The contract you signed stating in small print, “any day off must be requested, sent in, and approved 2 weeks prior to the date said employee is asking for.”

And so this morning when Jungkook entered your room to find you completely knocked out with drool coming out of your mouth, he was surprised to say the least. On weekday mornings, he would almost always wake up to find himself alone in the apartment considering both you and Hobi have day jobs, so hearing snores come out of your room had definitely caught him off guard.

He debated on whether he should be annoying and wake you up and then force you to work out or be a nice roommate and make you breakfast. Let’s just say he didn’t choose the latter. Grabbing one of the stuffed animals that you weren’t hugging, he throws it at your head, a grunt coming out of your mouth after.

“Jungkook,” you mutter, morning voice in full effect, “let me sleep please,” you say, switching to the other side, in hopes that he’d leave.

“No, you need to work out,” he says, beginning to nag.

Turning around again, this time to face him, you look at him with your eyes half-way open, “Today’s lazy day,” you deadpan, his eyes narrow in confusion.

“What the hell is, quote on quote, lazy day?” he asks, lifting a brow. Rubbing your eyes along with eye boogers in the corners, you begin to stretch your arms and legs, not caring if he was staring.

Sighing once you were ready to respond, you then answer, “Lazy day is the one day of the month that me and Hobi take a day off of work to well … be lazy,” he stares at you with an innocent look on his face, “butttttt,” a mischievous smile appears on your face, “since Hobi cancelled on me, now you’re going to be lazy partner for the day.” His face twists in bewilderment.

“Huh?”

“You heard me, go call the café, and tell em you’re taking the day off,” you smile, now getting up from bed.

“And why would I do that?” Jungkook asks, the question coming off a little harsher than intended, but you were quick to shrug it off, already accustomed to the occasional attitude.

“Becauseeeeee,” you sing, “When was the last time you’ve taken a day off, I mean look at you right now! You’re already dressed comfortably,” you eye him up and down, he was currently in work out clothing which for him consisted of an oversized grey sweater and joggers, “do you really wanna get all sweaty and then have to shower, change, and go to work… cause I don’t think you do,” you raise your eyebrows up and down in a teasing manner as he avoids eye contact with you.

His eyes look around your room, clearly thinking to himself. A lazy day huh? Hmm you did make a point, he really couldn’t remember the last time he’s just lounged around and done nothing, as he was always doing something whether it be working out, working, going out, etc.

He looks back at you once he’s made his decision, letting out a huff of air, “Fine,” he says, grabbing his phone from his pocket, preparing to dial the coffee shop, a tiny squeal coming from you.

“I thought lazy day meant no going out,” Jungkook complains while pushing the grocery cart around, following you and your need to go up and down each and every aisle at the store.

“It does, but since Hobi and I couldn’t go grocery shopping the night before,” you grab some strawberry lemonade from the freezer and place it in the cart, “someone has to help carry the groceries up the stairs,” you catch him rolling his eyes, “your eyes will get stuck up there if you keep doing that,” you comment, grabbing packaged ramen from the counter beside you.

“Yeah, Yeah—” Jungkook stares at what’s in your hands wide eyed, “No, no, no! What are you doing?” You jump in surprise, dropping the package on the floor.

“Wh-what?” your face flushes in surprise, his outburst completely catching you off guard.

“Shin Ramyun?! What happened to getting Paldo Bibimmyeon?! Do you have no loyalty?” he scrunches his face up, in clear distress at what he just caught you doing. At first you don’t think he’s serious, this being some stupid joke he was making, but once you got a glimpse of the stare he was giving you, you’d soon come to realize that he was not playing around at all.

“It’s be-be-because,” you begin to stutter under his scrutiny, “these are buy three, get two free,” you lopsidedly smile, an awkward laugh feigning from your lips. He shakes his head, snatching the ramen from your hands and placing it on its original spot before then grabbing his Paldo Bibimmyeon.

“Choosing price over quality, are you crazy?” he mutters under his breath before pushing the cart past you and making his way to the checkout line, leaving you there momentarily flabbergasted.

Once you caught up to him you were ready to tell him something until you heard the sound of someone calling your name, “Y/N?” you turn around, surprised to see Jimin in the line next to you.

“Oh Jimin!” you smile, softly waving at the newly blonde-haired boy, his roots telling you that the hair job was recent. Jimin offers his hand out to Jungkook. Jungkook, at first hesitant, shakes it in return, “You remember Jimin, right? He was with us on New Years, he was supposed to come partying with us last time, but he flaked last minute,” Jungkook slowly nods remembering the boy wrapping his arm around you during the countdown while Jimin on the other hand raises his hands to his defense.

“Even a person like me can get burnt out every here and then,” he laughs, “but next time I’ll be sure to be on the dance floor,” he winks at you, his natural flirty personality making its appearance. Jungkook awkwardly coughs, pushing the cart forward to get your attention back in the moving line.

You feel your hands get a bit clammy, Jimin always being someone you did have a bit of a crush on, never pursuing anything because of your long-term friendship with him. But of course that didn’t mean he didn’t get an occasional blush out of you here and there. “So how have you been since the last time I saw you? It’s been quite a while—”

And just as you’re about to answer, Jungkook interrupts, “Y/N,” he says, nudging you to tell you that it was time to pay.

“Ah I guess I’ll just see you around then,” Jimin chuckles, waving a small goodbye.

“O-oh yeah I guess I—”

“Y/N,” Jungkook repeats, unbeknownst to you, the green eyed monster was beginning to make its appearance. Any longer and horns would probably start sprouting out his ears.

Once you two finish paying and bagging everything, you walk towards Jungkook’s new black Hyundai which he had bought only a couple of weeks ago after months of what he calls “busting his ass” off and using most of his savings up for. You hum a tiny tune while helping him place all the bags in the trunk.

“So…” Jungkook awkwardly begins, second guessing whether he should continue asking the question he had in his mind before deciding to just do it anyway, “Is that like your boyfriend or something?”

Immediately you stop humming, staring at Jungkook wide-eyed, “Oh no, no!” you quickly deny, “No, No, no,” you repeat, shaking your head. The redness of your cheeks tell another story.

“Hm,” Jungkook mumbles, “sorta looked like it,” he deadpans before going to put the cart in its designated spot, leaving you there confused as to what that meant.

After a couple of hours of lounging around in the apartment and binging Narcos: Mexico on the TV rather than your laptop because of Jungkook’s complaints, the two of you were now eating your ramen on the kitchen island, quietly seated on the tall chairs. The sound of Jungkook slurping his noodles filling the room.

“What did you mean by Jimin being my boyfriend or something?” you suddenly ask out of nowhere, the question having been on your mind for a majority of the day.

Jungkook takes a final gulp of his food before responding, “I don’t know,” he nonchalantly shrugs, “you were gawking at him like a schoolgirl seeing her crush in the hallway,” he says, “thought you two had something going on, or at least on your part,” he reiterates.

“I did not stare at him like some schoolgirl!” you deny, taking offense to his analogy, “He’s j-jus—”

“J-just someone you clearly have a crush on,” he mocks your flusteredness, “I see and here a part of me thought it thought it was two-sided,” he smirks.

“It’s not sided on either way,” you protest, “Jimin is just a friend,” you clarify, putting your foot down.

“How do you even know the dude?” he asks. He knew you and Hobi met during college, and that Hobi was in some club with Yoongi and Namjoon which explains how you met them. He also knew that Seokjin and Taehyung came into the picture after some college frat party, but Jimin, well he didn’t know too much about Jimin. Just that he clearly felt comfortable enough to have his arm around you during New Years.

“I met him during my first year of performing at Busan Arts College, that was before I transferred to Seoul National where I’d then meet Hobi,” Jungkook’s ears perk up, several questions now running through his head.

“An arts college? In Busan?”

“Yeah, like a school for dance majors, drawing, theatre, music, film, modelling, sports, interior design, animation, and et cetera,” you smile softly while explaining, “I was an art major, painting to be specific, and along the scopes of watercolors and abstractness.”

Jungkook hums, his curiosity still not completely fulfilled, “So why’d you transfer?” he asks the big question.

“Oh..” you know you shouldn’t be, but for some reason you are slightly taken back by his blunt question, “because..” you sigh, “um something happened that well um I just thought it’d be best to transfer, and well my math skills weren’t too rusty for the entrance exam and my credits were exceptional for transferring and so I just took the leap and left. Met Hobi, we became roommates, decided to stay roommates even after graduating and well now I’m an accountant.”

Jungkook stays silent for a moment, surprised that there was more to you than meets the eye. He would’ve never guessed that you were into painting, “I stayed in touch with Jimin, introduced him to my new group of friends and well yeah, that’s that,” you finish explaining, “He was a dance major, just in case you were curious,” you add, “He now works at a contemporary dance company here in Seoul, very deep with connections in the arts industry,” So that’s who Jimin was huh? Cool... but now Jungkook was much more curious about you.

“Do you ever paint?” he asks another question, completely finished with his meal and at this point only staying for the conversation. It was weird, had it been anyone else asking you these questions you wouldn't have dared entertain it any further, probably finding some way to maneuver out of it. But for Jungkook to ask whether it be from a place of nosiness or simple curiosity, hell maybe even boredom, for some reason you just didn’t mind.

“Um not really, not anymore at least, especially these days that work is beginning to pile up but,” you hesitate for a moment before continuing, “I still have some of my old work somewhere under my bed, probably in a storage box knowing me.”

“Can I see them?”

And just as you’re about to answer, your phone’s ringing sound goes off. The person calling? Jimin. You hesitate to answer, glancing at Jungkook who was staring at your phone, presumably reading the name. Once he does, he looks at you in a way that was asking, “Are you going to pick up?”

You click the green button to accept, “Hello?”

“Y/N?” Jimin asks, unsure if it was you.

“Yes?”

“Hey! Um so I was actually meaning to call for quite a while,” Jungkook tries his best not to make it obvious that he’s listening in, “and so when I ran into you and your friend at the market it served as a complete reminder.”

“Oh what for?” you ask politely.

“Well I was hoping we could catch up over some dinner, and then I could tell you something very important that I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time,” From Jimin? “I was thinking this Saturday like at 7? I’ll pick you up.”

“Oh um..” for some reason you look at Jungkook for advice, but he just stares at you with his eyebrows furrowed, “Yeah sure, why not?” you awkwardly laugh.

“Perfect, I’ll see you then! Byeeeee,” he sings before clicking, leaving you on the line. Did that call really just happen? Or were just imagining things?

“I think—” you gulp, “I think I have a date this Saturday?” you say unsurely, a small dumbfounded smile beginning to appear on your face.

He notices the goofy smile beginning to appear on your face, before letting out a large exasperated breath and feigning his best smile. The forced smile comes out quite awkward, “With Park Jimin?” Park Jimin your college friend. Park Jimin, the successful contemporary dancer. Park Jimin, the one who looked like he came straight out of a magazine cover. That Park Jimin? Jungkook on the other hand could feel his eyebrow impulsively twitch in response, the green eyed monster creeping from behind, ready to make its return.

You nod your head yes, Jungkook now getting up from the chair, a negative energy now around him. “So much for it being a zero sided thing,” he mutters before practically throwing his dish into the sink and stomping out the kitchen, leaving you completely by yourself.

“Weird,” you think to yourself before heading off to bed.

Saturday had surprisingly arrived in the blink of an eye despite the extra hours of working out Jungkook had thrown in the morning. It was almost as if the boy wanted you to be on your date exhausted and halfway knocked out. Out of nowhere, deciding that today was the best day to start working on more leg targeted exercises, as a result your legs now felt like jell-o with every step you took.

“I’m gonna get going you guys,” you announce to the boys in the living room, who were currently on the couch watching an episode of One Piece.

Hobi turns his attention from the screen to look at you, immediately smiling at your outfit, “Ahh look at you,” he compliments, Jungkook on the other hand or silently watches you as you grab your keys from the countertop. “Doesn’t she look pretty Jungkook?” Hobi asks, tapping Jungkook on the shoulder. Jungkook remains silent, which oddly enough resulted in a heavy feeling in your chest. “Now she’s sad!” Hobi scolds, “Tell her she looks pretty,” Hobi pushes Jungkook’s shoulder this time.

“You look…” Jungkook pauses, and for a moment both you and Hobi hold your breath, for Jungkook’s mouth was quite unpredictable sometimes, “You look more than pretty,” he says with a warm look on his face before catching himself and going back to his usual expressionless face and turning his attention back to the screen. Hobi who looks like he’s about to tease the hell out Jungkook once you leave, struggles to hide the big grin on his face. While you, well you could’ve sworn you felt your heart skip a beat.

“Well get going now! And don’t come back too late!” Hobi teases, loving the persona of acting like a parent a little too much.

Was thinking about your roommate regular for a date? Because that’s what you found yourself doing … a lot. From the moment you had stepped into Jimin’s car your immediate comparison was to Jungkook’s own car. Once he started driving, your mind went to how unlike Jimin who drove with both hands on the steering wheel, Jungkook liked driving with one. More specifically his left.

And of course being on a date you expect conversation to be flowing all around even when you’re waiting on the food, but for some reason you had become so used to Jungkook always being silent until he was nearly finished with his food, that when Jimin began to make conversation while waiting definitely felt … odd for you to say the least. And don’t even get you started on what he ended up ordering. Well done steak?! Jungkook hated well done steak, preferring medium rare over anything. And so to say your roommate had been constantly on your mind this whole time was a bit of an understatement.

Currently the two of you were walking on the bridge of a local park, the several number of lampposts and people all around you making it less scary than compared to that night at the park with Jungkook. “So Y/N how’s your year been so far?” Jimin asks, a pleasant smile on his face.

“It’s been,” you pause, thinking about the person who came into your life only months ago, “it’s been pretty good.”

“That’s good to hear, that’s good to hear,” he repeats, the two of you now sitting on a bench, “So I know I told you I had some important news,” he begins, “and it’s something I’ve been really wanting to talk to you about for a very long time,” he insinuates, “and so if you could close your eyes for a moment that’d be great,” you do as follows, and close your eyes, Your heart begins to race but it wasn’t the same kind of racing you felt that night at the park with Jungkook. It was more of a “what am I doing here?” kind of nervousness so to speak. Nonetheless you shrug the feeling off.

Jimin, who was originally supposed to be getting an exhibition flyer out of his coat, notices that you have what looks to be a leaf in your hair. Deciding that it was bothering him too much he goes and reaches for it, surprised to be in contact with your lips seconds later. Quickly he pulls away, staring at you wide eyed. Both of your faces now tomato red, as he struggles to form words.

Eyes still widened, he pulls out the folded paper from jacket, once unfolded it reads, “Seoul City’s Annual Public Art Exhibition with a special performance by Seoul’s Contemporary Dance Academy choreographed by Park Jimin.”

“Oh my God—” you manage to breath out, coming to the realization that kissing you was not his attention.

He scratches the back of his neck, “I um, yeah, I’m this year’s choreographer for the city's art exhibition and well I managed to get you a slot so that you could have your very first art piece exhibited,” Jimin feigns an awkward smile, “You know since you’re a painter first before an accountant.” You, still hung up on what was probably the most embarrassing moment of your life, stare at him in complete silence. Everything barely registering in your head.

“Y/N…” he begins the dreadful pity speech by grabbing your hand, “I um,” he lets out an awkward chuckle before continuing, “I like you, I do, but not in that way…”

In the movies, this is where you’re supposed to feel as if your world was crashing down on you, the part where your heart is supposed to sink in complete sadness and you go home a complete crying mess. But rather than feel any of those things, you instead feel …. relief? Yeah, you kissing the boy was embarrassing, but it wasn’t something that was gonna haunt you for the rest of your life. Maybe for a week or two, but not definitely not the rest of your life.

Jimin wonders what’s going through your mind, the apparent smile that suddenly grew on your face telling him that things were going to be just fine, “I sorta um had my eyes on someone else in our friend group…” and with that he gets your attention because you knew exactly who he was talking about.

“Taehyung,” you say, and Jimin silently nods, a laugh emitting from both of your lips.

“Honestly, I’m a little surprised that you even agreed to go out with me, that Jungkook dude seemed like was going to lunge at me any second over there at the supermarket,” Jimin says, “I thought you two were a thing at first.”

You laugh in disbelief, “Me and Jungkook?” you say, scrunching your face.

“Um yeah, it’s not really something shocking,” Jimin laughs, “I mean you two definitely looked like a couple that day, very much doing um couple-like things. Maybe not affectionate wise but I don’t know there were definitely looks and glances being exchanged. But if you say there’s nothing between you two then who am I to argue?” Jimin shrugs his shoulders, a smirk on his face.

“Exactly, who are you to argue,” you dramatically snarl, Jimin throwing his head back in laughter.

“So y/n what do you say about participating in the art exhibition? You know you want toooo,” Jimin sings, pouting his lips. You had forgotten about that for a moment, the embarrassment of the kiss completely fazing you out.

“Oh I don’t know,” you nervously say, you hadn’t seriously painted in such a long time, that chapter in your life being a closed book for quite some time now.

“But y/n—” Jimin begs, “This could be the moment you’ve been waiting for, there’s going to be a lot of professional artists there along with buyers.”

“I just—” something was holding you back from saying yes. Was it fear? Maybe. All you knew was that you couldn't dive into something that you had long given up on, “I don’t think I can,” you ultimately say.

Jimin frowns, “You sure? I can’t hold the slot for too long, and well I was so sure you’d say yes..” You sigh before nodding, confirming that you were saying no.

“Ah okay,” Jimin says, completely understanding, “Come on let’s get you home,” to which you nod, a small sad smile on your face.

By the time you got back home, you wondered if the boys’ were asleep already, hoping at least one of them was awake to talk to, more specifically Hobi, for he always knew what to say when you needed comfort. And so when you opened the door to find the TV still on, but no one in the living room, you were confused to say the least.

You walk towards Hobi’s room, crack open the door, and peep your head in only to find him sound asleep. Did that mean Jungkook was up? Maybe someone just forgot to turn off the TV… with your curiosity getting the best of you, you decide to go Jungkook’s room and check if he was there. With your hand on the knob, you begin to twist it, slowly opening the door until a voice scares you from behind, “What are you doing?” he harshly whispers causing you to yelp in surprise.

“Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God,” you whisper as well, closing his door immediately, “I-I-I thought you were,” you point at his door, unable to complete your sentence.

“I was peeing,” he says, “Did you not see the light on?”

Shaking your head no, you ask, “What are you even doing up this late?”

Jungkook awkwardly stammers, “I um, I just couldn’t sleep,” he says instead of admitting that secretly he was waiting for you to arrive, just to make sure you were safe. Nothing else of course, not like he wanted to know how your date went… “Why are you going into my room without my permission?” he questions.

You scoff, “You always go in mine!” you try your best to keep your voice down, not wanting to wake up a grumpy Hobi, “Why can’t I go in yours?”

“Because you’ve never told me anything against me going into yours,” he argues, “Just because we’re um,” he pauses, struggling to say the word that comes next, “friends… doesn’t mean you get to go snooping around.” What the hell was he hiding in there that you couldn’t go in?

“That’s not fair and you know it,” you complain, ready to cross your arms and complain like a kid, that is until he flicks your forehead with his index finger.

“Ow,” you cry, “What was that for?” you groan, and he shrugs in response.

“I don’t know I just felt like doing it,” he smirks, “your forehead just looks so … flickable.” You narrow your eyes, quickly flicking his in return, garnering an “ow” from him as well.

“Oh you’re gonna pay for that,” he says, and quickly but also softly because you didn’t want to stomp too hard on the floor, you run back to the living room, the two of you now chasing each other around, index fingers ready for some more flicking. Maniacal fits of giggles filling the room as you begin to throw pillows at each other, running around the kitchen island like little kids.

Jungkook, despite being the faster runner, was the one being chased. The closer you got to him, the further you began to reach your arm for his t-shirt, your fingertips always grazing the bottom. But once you finally did, something very unexpected happened. You tripped.

Soon enough, you were hands down on the floor, Jungkook below you, a casualty of your fall. The two of you now facing each other, chests heaving from your game of tag, laughing uncontrollably. Not exactly caring if Hobi, the neighbors, or the rest of the world could hear you.

Gradually, you get off him and instead lay on the kitchen floor right next him, aimlessly staring at the ceiling. A comfortable silence in the air. If someone would’ve told you at the beginning of the year that you and Jungkook would be playing tag in the apartment like little kids, you would’ve told them they were crazy. But yet here you were, heart pounding out of your chest, wanting this moment to remain for as long as it possibly could.

“So…” Jungkook continues to stare at the ceiling, “How’d your date go?”

“It was…” you use the only word that could properly describe it, “embarrassing,” you giggle, recalling what happened. Jungkook looks at you, eager to say the least, to know why.

“Let’s just say I ummm … took some signs completely wrong,” you awkwardly chuckle, “or long story short, I sorta kissed him and well let’s just say he has his eyes on someone else in our friend group.”

Was it wrong for Jungkook to feel happy? Happy that you two didn’t have insane chemistry, become boyfriend and girlfriend, and live happily ever after after like in the fairytales. Of course he wasn’t happy that it was you who went for the kiss, nor that it was who you got rejected, but it was better than you coming in here raving on about Park Jimin, no offense to Jimin.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook says, an attempt to comfort you.

“It’s fine really,” you laugh, “what’s weird was that I didn’t really feel as heartbroken or as sad as I thought I’d be,” you shrug, “I’m just glad it didn’t ruin our friendship or anything. If anything I’m sad about what he offered... “

“What did he offer?” Jungkook’s jaw tightens, but you’re quick to shake your head and sigh.

“He offered me a spot at Seoul’s annual art exhibition, I guess since he choreographed a dance, he was able to talk them into giving him a spot and well I said no,” Jungkook frowns, wondering why you didn’t take the offer, “I just couldn’t see myself doing it… I haven’t painted in what feels like forever and to then have it be seen by thousands of people, yeah I can already feel the anxiety from that. One bad comment and I’m going to have to fake a smile the whole time and cry when I get home.”

Jungkook scoffs, “Who cares what others think? Screw them. I know that it’s rich coming from me, but if you think those people who may insult you or throw some sly comment to get under your skin are better than you in any way then let me tell you, they’re not. And who says you have to take their shit? Stop feeling as if you have to always put on some fake smile for people in order to spare their feelings and start looking out for your own,” Jungkook sits up, looking down on you. “So you know what you’re going to do?”

You stare at him in silence, murmuring a tiny “what?”

“You’re going to text Jimin right now and tell him you’re taking that spot,” Jungkook demands, “and if you don’t then I’ll call him myself and do it for you.” Now it’s your turn to sit yourself right up, waiting for a sign in his eyes that told you he was purely kidding. “Well what are you waiting for?” He eyes your pockets, waiting for you to reach for your phone.

“Jungko—”

“Y/N, you can’t tell me that you’re not feeling sad because you know you’re going to regret saying no to the opportunity,” Jungkook’s voice raises without meaning to, placing his hands on your shoulders, “I don’t have to see a single painting of yours to know that you’re talented, and if people can’t see that then honestly it’s their loss.” You feel your heart swell with every word, slowly pulling out your phone from the back pocket of your jeans.

Jungkook gets up from his position, offering his hand to help pull you up. Once he pulls you, he walks towards the fridge, and takes two pints of ice cream out the freezer. Your face lights up as you watch him get two spoons from the drawer, “Don’t hold it against me, but I bought these after you left just in case you came back a crying mess,” he avoids eye contact with you while handing you your pint, “But heartbreak or not, someone has to eat these. So come on, send that text so we can watch some One Piece.”

“Imagine you would’ve never convinced me to do the art exhibition,” you laugh, gently nudging Jungkook.

“Mm though it could’ve prevented a lot of things, the good definitely outweighed the bad so…” Jungkook pauses, “I guess it just goes to show you have to go through the downs in order to reap the rewards of the up.”

“Now look who's getting all wordy on me,” you tease.

“I guess you’re rubbing off on me more than I’d like to admit,” he pretends to be annoyed by dramatically sighing but a laugh soon follows.

June 2019.

After texting Jimin that you had changed your mind, you began to work on the painting you had brainstormed for the art exhibition, first sketching it out and now well on your way to starting your quite large painting.

Honestly, pulling out your old art tools and portfolio from years ago was nostalgic, bringing you a genuine sense of completeness. To have a decent paying job, the best of friends, and now being able to practice the hobby you had once considered turning into a career was everything you could ask for. But what made you feel even warmer inside was just how supportive Jungkook was of the whole thing, always buying and bringing back art materials for you to use, including different colors of paint. Though most of the time they weren’t really what you considered the best quality, it was the thought that counted.

After your boxing lessons with him, you’d usually go straight to your room to begin working on it, for the first time since you stopped painting feeling actual motivation and creativity flowing through you. Life was good. Not good, amazing.

That was until today, when you noticed Jungkook hadn’t woken you up for your usual Saturday workout. “Maybe he overslept?” you think to yourself, probably had a tiresome night at work yesterday. Slowly you make your way outside his door, gently knocking on the door.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Nothing. Not a groan, not a “let me sleep”, absolutely nothing. You knock one more time just to make sure, your shoulders dropping once you realize he wasn’t going to open the door. Remembering what he said about entering his room, you decide that if he was having a bad day, it’d just be best to leave him be for the meanwhile.

Things didn’t really start getting alarming until you and Hobi both noticed that he skipped breakfast. His door remaining absolutely closed the whole morning and day, not a peep of sound coming out.

“Hobi, I’m starting to get worried,” your eyes glimmer with concern, “He hasn’t come out all day.”

“I know I am too, but—” Hobi sighs, “I don’t want to pressure him into—” the sound of a door opening quickly grabs your guys’ attention, the two of you silently watching Jungkook come out of his room. The time on the clock reading 6PM, the sun outside beginning to set. Carefully you watch Jungkook come into the kitchen, grabbing nothing more than a water bottle and a couple of snacks.

There’s a redness to his eyes that you’d never seen before, almost as if he had been sobbing. His under eyes were in the early stages of becoming puffy, and his skin seemed a lot paler than usual. You feel your heart sink when the two of you, for a mere second, make eye contact. Quietly he begins to make his way back to his room, but not before you offer him some food.

“Y/N—” Hobi tries to stop you, but you continue nonetheless.

“I made japchae,” you say, “I even added extra mushrooms like how you always like it,” he stares at you in silence, a cold look to his eyes before ignoring you and returning to his room. The door slamming shut once he does. If your heart was sunk already, then it was definitely stomped and ripped into pieces after that.

You turn your attention back to the TV, feeling Hobi’s stare from the side. Suddenly the volume of the TV is lowered and you already know what's coming, “Y/N…” you hear Hobi say, a sad tone behind his voice.

“Hobi don’t,” you cut him off before he could continue, not wanting to receive his pity, “I just don’t feel like hearing it right now.”

Hobi ignores you, knowing you were just putting up a wall as a defense mechanism, “You know he didn’t mean it,” he says, “he’s probably just having a rough day that’s all.”

“Even if he is, why does he still feel the need to just keep it to himself, why can’t he see that he can trust us, that he can trust me? Sometimes it feels like he knows a lot more about me than I know about him—” you rant, trying to keep your voice down so that Jungkook doesn’t hear you from his room.

Hobi sighs, getting up from the couch and grabbing his jacket and keys from the counter, “Put on your shoes,” he says, and you look at him confused before doing as he says and following him outside. The two of you then climb up the fire ladder of your apartment and onto the roof, the view of the stars sending shivers down your spine.

“Okay now sit—” he commands, which you do anyway.

“Why are we even out here?” you question, regretting not bringing your own sweater.

“Because I’m going to tell you a story, and well I don’t want Jungkook hearing us,” he says, making himself comfortable in the spot next to you, “You ready?”

Silently you nod your head yes, and so he continues.

“When I was a kid, I was what you could call ...nerdy … so to speak,” he chuckles, “I had those big ol glasses that made you look like you had fish eyes, I liked reading the Harry Potter books, I didn’t like playing sports like the rest of the boys in my elementary school did, and well in general I just wasn’t like a lot of them,” he pauses to look up at the sky, continuing once he was ready, “Now when you’re in elementary, kids won’t directly bully you, but instead they’ll make little teasing remarks because well ...we’re kids. We don’t know the big curse words yet or what we’re capable of physically. And so as a kid I’d let those jokes slide, I’d let their insults become the label put on me, not knowing the true maliciousness behind it.”

You feel your eyes become glossy, knowing where this was leading, “But the older you get, the more you begin to learn and well soon enough the teasing became full on bullying by middle school. The older kids would make these nicknames for me, and constantly call me them before, during, and after school. Occasionally even following me for a couple of blocks when walking home just to remind me that they had power over me,” Hobi’s voice begins to shake a little, “and well I didn’t know how to speak up for myself, let alone defend myself and so it just became a regular occurrence until on a certain day in middle school,” he pauses, taking a big breath.

“I had been walking home from school that day, and for some reason that day I decided I wanted to take a different route back home, probably because I was hoping the kids who would bully me would decide not to follow me. But boy was I was wrong,” he feigns a laugh, “The route I had taken was right next to the Suyeong River, and well I think it’s important to note that I didn’t know how to swim at the time. I think I personally choose not to remember too much, but one moment I was walking and the next I had my face being pulled in and out of the water, the sounds of laughter being the thing I remember the most from that day,” Hobi closes his eyes, his voice cracking as he continues, “And I just remember thinking how could kids my age be so viscous?” tears begin to silently fall from his eyes, his hands slightly shaking at the recollection of the memory, “I thought this was it, this is the end of the line for me.”

“It wasn’t until I felt the release of my hair and the touch of someone pulling back that the nightmare came to an end,” Hobi wipes his tears with the sleeve of his sweater, “When I finally managed to get some kind of focus on my vision, I’d come to see the boy who was pushing me into the water completely knocked out the floor while the rest of his buddies were running to who knows where,” The scene from the club begins to replay in your head, remembering the person who had gotten there just at the right time.

“And then there was Jungkook, the boy I’d never seen a day in my life , helping me fix myself along with looking for my glasses even after having knocked out that boy with his bare hands. After that me and Jungkook became the best of friends, like actual genuine friends and the bullying had completely stopped. I’d also come to find out that Jungkook was a boxer, and not a casual one, like an “I practice every weekday, weekend, day, and night.” kind of one. He was aiming to go pro, and so he had to put in the time for it. His parents were supportive of it as well, as I think his dad saw the most potential in it.”

Hobi takes a breather before continuing, finding yourself completely immersed in the story, “And so when our senior year came around and I had gotten accepted into SNU, I asked Jungkook what he was planning on doing now that we were graduating. And well that’s when he told me that had gotten an offer to train and compete in the states, where there’d be a lot more tougher competition and where he could really develop the natural talent he had. So on graduation day we had our teary farewell, and I remember telling him that if he ever needed anything and I truly meant anything, that he’d know where to find me.”

“So when years later I received a call at about 2 in the morning, asking if he could redeem the favor he had once done for me so long ago, I knew I couldn’t say no. I don’t know what happened in the states, and I don’t bother to ask him because I know that the day he’s ready to tell me or you, he will. Whatever did happen over there, changed him though. He came back a colder, more rude person, and honestly I thought he’d be like that forever until he started to get to know you,” Hobi smiles, “That’s when I began to see glimpses of the Jungkook I knew from high school again, the one who liked to mess around all the time, and never took himself too seriously.”

“You see y/n, I’m telling you all of this because I want you to know that Jungkook isn’t like us in the way of opening up when he feels sad or mad. He’s used to being the one doing all the protecting and so when he finds himself in a place where he’s overwhelmed by the feelings of sadness or anger, he gives the cold shoulder or becomes someone who isn’t like him at all, in order to avoid talking about it. I think it’s because he doesn’t want anyone to know the burden he carries. To sum it up y/n, Jungkook is the definition of when it rains, it pours … but when it shines, you’ll completely forget it ever rained to begin with,” Hobi pats you softly on the shoulder, “So the best thing you can do right now is let the storm play itself out, so that then you can be there when the rainbow comes back out.”

If only you had listened.

“Ahh so it was Hobi who told you everything,” Jungkook scrunches his face.

“No duhhhhh,” you sing, “Who else could have?”

Jungkook shrugs, “I don’t know, I thought you just magically figured it out on your own,” you’re unsure on whether he’s being sarcastic or not so all you is narrow your eyes at him, deciding to stay silent than make yourself look stupid.

“Mm either way Hobi made a BIG mistake telling me,” you laugh, “because he should've known my nosiness was only going to lead to problems.”

“Tell me about it,” Jungkook teases, resulting in a light smack to the shoulder.

July 2019.

It had been about a month since Jungkook’s change in behavior, his cold demeanor reminding you of when he first moved in months ago. The only time he’d ever leave his room was to go to work, use the restroom, or get his food to take to his room. You had been working on your painting whenever you got the chance, a distraction from the constant concern you felt for Jungkook. You know Hobi said to give it time, but how long would it be until Jungkook decided to finally open up? He couldn’t go on like this forever, could he?

You missed the Jungkook you had gotten to know in the last couple of months, the one who showed you that the tough wall he put up around him was nothing more than an act. That behind it, he was a complete sweetheart who liked drinking his banana milk and watching One Piece whenever he had the chance, the one who constantly liked to steal your things from your room and then replace them with an even better version, the one whose laugh sorta reminded you of Elmo but was still absolutely adorable, and lastly the one who you had found constantly by your side and falling further in love with every waking moment.

Not like, but love. You had come to realize it while you were in bed one night, your only thoughts being thunk all relating to Jungkook in some way. Remembering the number of times this month where you’d find yourself outside his bedroom door, inches away from knocking, knowing that all you needed was for him to open up the door at least once and you’d know everything was going to be okay. Sadly, you’d always find yourself chickening out, Hobi’s words always ringing in your head to serve as a reminder. Jungkook needed space. And as much as you wanted to run up to him and give him a tight hug, you knew you had to respect his boundaries.

So then why was it that today, when you found yourself painting and missing a certain color, a tiny voice in your head was telling you that maybe Jungkook had it… Realistically you knew it wasn’t possible, you had kept track of all your colors from the moment you started, but damn was that voice convincing.

Getting up from the floor, you walk out into the living room, checking around to see if it was there. Hobi, who was currently taking a nap on the couch, seemed completely at peace.

You check his room to see if he has it, but your efforts were to no avail. The only place it had to be was Jungkook’s room. It had to be. At least that’s what you were telling yourself so could finally have an excuse to knock on his door. Making your way to his room, you prepare to knock, your knuckles lightly tapping against the wooden door. But to your surprise the door creaks open, no one presumably in the room…

You could’ve sworn Jungkook was home? You double check the restroom, making sure it wasn’t going to be an incident like last time, but this time he really wasn’t there. The voice of reasoning versus temptation now had you completely torn. You remember the day Jungkook first moved in, and how secretive he got over you seeing whatever it was inside his boxes, and the night after your date and how stern he was about you not entering.

Slowly you push open the door of his room, completely forgetting Hobi’s words and deciding that it was either now or never. You knew you were a pushing boundary that you shouldn’t be, but a part of you also felt like it had to be done. Maybe if you found out what was bothering Jungkook so much, you could help him.

Honestly, you weren't too sure on what you expected when you first entered. Considering how secretive Jungkook was about it, you sorta assumed the room would be all black and have a whole bunch of weird things hanging across the walls, but surprisingly his room looked completely normal. The bed covers were a navy blue color that matched with some of the artwork he had hung across the beige colored apartment walls. The drawers were plain and boring while his desk looked like any other ordinary desk: stacked with random sketches, pens, One piece manga, and printed webtoons. If this is all he was hiding, then it really no made sense because there was literally nothing to hide….

That was until you saw the closed closet door, and once you opened it, you were blown away. For what was behind those closet doors was an entire memorabilia of awards, belts, photos, and trophies which you assumed were all Jungkook’s, newspapers from the states with headlines that spoke of how amazing Jungkook was. Many of them include the words “rising”, “prodigy”, and “the next big thing”. Your eyes try to take everything in all in one go, but it was just so much. There were papers that were written about him even when he was a kid, pictures of his with several belts around his waist amazed you. This was insane.

But it wasn’t until you noticed the newspaper headline of the paper hung right in the center of the practical shrine that the smile from your face fell, as it read, “Prodigy Jeon Jungkook, K.O’d in Round 12 against Brandon Star.” You look at the date, and everything begins to start making sense. The date which read December 1, 2018, only a couple of weeks prior to your first meeting with him at New Years, the churning feeling in your stomach only becoming heavier as you read the newspaper next to it. “Rising Star, Jeon Jungkook, disappears. Where is he now?” it reads, and as you skim through the different articles, the whole memorabilia shrine begins to make sense. Jungkook didn’t have this here for the purpose of maintaining old memories, but for the purpose of constantly reminding himself of what he once was and how he ended up failing, torturing himself to say the least. It’d explain his pent up anger when you first met him, the scar was still fresh.

Grabbing one of the trophies from the memorabilia desk, you observe the glass material and admire its fine detail, Jungkook’s name written in cursive underneath the title. Slowly your fingers graze over it, whispering his name to yourself, “Jeon Ju—”

“What do you think you’re doing?” a voice harshly interrupts, scaring you and causing you to jump. The slippery trophy in your hands falling to floors, several pieces of glass now shattered onto the floor. Turning to face the owner of the voice, your heart stops when you find Jungkook staring at the floor, an expressionless look on his face.

“I—” your brain completely freezes, only staring at his balled up fist which was becoming more red with every passing second.

“I told you—” he closes his eyes, letting out an exasperated breath, “I told you to stay the fuck out of my room,” he finally snaps, his enraged voice echoing across the walls of the room, “So then why, why the fuck are you in here right now!” he moves towards you, his face now becoming red in anger. Not caring whether he was stepping on glass or not.

“I know but—”

He cuts you off, “But fucking what? There’s no reason you should even be in here right now y/n! None!” he screams, his rage only furthering with every word. Tears begin to well up in your eyes as you stammer to defend yourself. “How would you feel like if I barged into your room and destroyed something personal of yours, huh?”

All you can do is stare at him, never seeing him this enraged before, the sight definitely a scary one, “Answer me goddamit!” he yells, his fist still balled up, holding himself back from punching anything. He looks down at the broken glass one more time, his chest now heaving in anger before storming out the room.

Quickly you follow him, chills going down your spine when you see him turn to your room.

“What are you—” you begin, but it’s too late. Everything happens in slow motion, from the fist being thrown to the sound of the canvas you’d been working so long on cracking, several holes and rips appearing soon after. You look at the scene in front of you in silence, shock running through your veins, and the need to vomit stronger than ever before. Jungkook breathes heavily, staring at what he’s just done, not feeling a single ounce of remorse.

The closing feeling in your throat is one that’s too overwhelming, but the anger you were now feeling was even stronger, “What is wrong with you,” you whisper, tears falling down from your eyes, a look of terror overtaking your face, “What is wrong with you!” you scream, lips trembling as your voice breaks at just how loud you were. Jungkook feels his blood run cold, taken back by your sudden outburst.

“I have been nothing but kind to you since the day we’ve met, nothing but!” you yell, hot tears uncontrollably falling from your hysteria.

Jungkook scoffs, yelling right in return, “Do you want some kind of reward for that? Is that it? Is that all this is? Another ego booster for you so you can pat yourself on the back and say you’re a good person!”

“I don’t need anything from anyone! Especially not from someone like you,” you spit, Jungkook’s jaw clenching at your response.

“Ah I knew that nice ol princess act was nothing more than mere bullshit,” he bitterly laughs, “finally had enough of your whole little treat everyone with kindness moral?” he mocks you.

“It’s not a fucking act, I’m just not a miserable person like you!” you grit your teeth, the temptation to throw something at him at an all time high.

“No you just live in this big old fantasy bubble that’s got you believing that kindness solves all the world's problems!”

“Yeah well it’s better than thinking that being a fucking prick to the rest of the world gets you anywhere, I mean look at where you’re at now!” you yell, knowing you were treading on thin ice, but you didn’t care at all anymore. The ice was shattered the moment he destroyed your painting, “I understand that I made a mistake going into your room, but you don’t have to take the rest of your miserable life out on me! You think everyone around you wants to be some kind of punching bag all the time for you?” the veins in your neck begin to pop out, and you almost feel as if your chest was going to physically explode at any moment, “How dare you come in here and treat everyone around you like complete shit all because you’re living a sad tragic life!”

“That’s not true,” he snarls, a scowl on his face.

“Isn’t it?” you scoff, “You’ve done it since the first day you got here, and so let me do the favor of telling you the truth and giving you a goddamn reality check! We’re all sick and tired of it! Just because you’re miserable doesn’t mean you get to make everyone around you as well! And let me tell you, I’ll be damned if I let someone like you make me just as rotten as yourself,” and for a small second you see the hurt across Jungkook’s face, and you think maybe you’ve gone too far.

Maybe this could’ve all been prevented had you never entered his room. But then you think to yourself that no, this was bound to happen. This was always going to happen whether you liked it or not. The questions had always just been: when was it going to happen and what was going to be the straw that broke the camel’s back? By now both of your chests are heaving, and there’s a silence that fills the room. Time acts as nothing more than an illusion.

“Is that what you really think?” he says, a cold hardened expression on his face again, “That I make you miserable?” You look at the destroyed painting on the floor, a symbol that despite building and making something so beautiful, all it took was one slip of the finger for it all to go down the drain. Without saying anything, you slowly nod to him, the emptiness in your heart acting as a driving force.

“What the—” Hobi walks in the room, dazed and confused, “What the fuck is going on in here?” He asks, but the two of you remain silent, continuing to stare at one another.

That is until Jungkook breaks away from the stare, muttering a small “nothing,” under his breath, walking out of the room and going back to his own, the door loudly slamming shut.

“Y/N…” Hobi begins, but you cut him off before he even gets the chance, a tiresome expression on your face.

“Hobi,” you shake your head, “Just leave me alone!,” you snap at him, but it comes out more as a plea than a demand, voice completely weary. Hobi stares at you for a moment before doing so, gently closing the door when making his way out. Once you hear the sound of the door close, you squat down to the floor, fingers grazing the painting you’d work so hard on, a muffled sob finally escaping from your lips.

a/n: whew! originally this was supposed to be nothing more than a small drabble, but as i kept writing it just ended becoming this monstrous of a fic that i had to split into two lmao. hopefully i didn’t make the switches between present day and the past too confusing for y’all. part two will probably be up by next friday, once my finals week is over :)) any messages, anons, comments, reblogs, and like are appreciated! see y’all next time! 💞

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cvtqr · 4 years ago

Text

cammed

series master list

chapter one; touché, jaeger

content warning; public sex, cheating, wall sex, unprotected, cream pie, slight degradation

the sun was setting as you walked out the front doors of your dormitory, closing them behind you. hearing your phone quietly ring, you pulled it out from the waistband of your skirt.

‘hello’

babe, are you guys almost here? games about to start and the other girls need historia

‘leaving now, hist just got here’

alright, if i can’t catch you before it starts we’re still on for dinner... right?

‘yeah of course. good luck reiner, win one for me.’

your life right now made you feel like you were in some cliche romcom. dating the college football superstar, best friends with the head cheerleader, all the cliches made you feel like you were still in high school. historia has been your best friend since birth, so of course the two of you hadn’t split up entering college. she had the cheer scholarship, you had the brains to get in with an application. you met reiner through mutual friends, but you couldn’t figure out why he fell for someone like you. usually, in the movies, the hot popular guy falls in love with the hot popular girl... but that wasn’t you, it was more like your best friend. you were more laid back, just wanting to get your degree.

your relationship with reiner was... slow, to say the least. it’s almost the end of your freshman year of college and he seems to be more focused on football than you. but you don’t blame him, he just wants to be successful with his passion. you do hate the fact that you have to take care of yourself all the time. he’s never able to stay the night, as he has training early in the morning. sometimes you wish that he could just be more available to you.

running out down the small path, you stopped in front of a car full of people. this was the way all friday nights were. you were picked up by a jammed pack car holding historia and a bunch of other people, before driving off to the football field. opening the car, it was really full tonight.

“you’re gonna have to sit on someone’s lap, just for the ride” jean said with a grim smirk on his face

“hist you’re tiny, sit on ymir’s lap”

ymir of course not having a problem, pulled the small blonde into her lap with a grin on her face. you then hopped into the car, taking historia’s previous spot.

arriving at the field, historia had to run off to her team and get a lecture by the coach on why she has to stop being so late. after giving her a hug for good luck, you wandered off to the concession stands.

“just a pretzel, please”

receiving your snack, you were about to walk over to the bleachers until you heard your name being called over the short fence.

“Y/N!”

letting out a sigh, you ran over to the voice calling you over.

“quiet down, unnecessary attention.”

lifting his helmet off, he used his large hands to pull your head into his, capturing his lips with yours.

“and? ya look pretty tonight, what if i want people to see my gorgeous little girlfriend.”

“don’t you have a game to play, tough guy?”

talking to your boyfriend, you felt like someone was piercing into the back of your head. people were probably watching the two of you, but no... that wasn’t the feeling. it felt like one person had their eyes glued to you. saying goodbye to your boyfriend, you started to walk over to the bleachers. they were packed with people and you had no one to sit with. your eyes started to scan looking for either bertholdt or colt, two quiet boys you seemed to get along well with.

bertholdt was reiner’s best friend. you noticed him the first time you met everyone. he was always following reiner around like a lost puppy, but reiner seemed to love his presence. when you and reiner started dating, he left you guys alone most the time, but he’s still was always around. colt you also met through reiner, on campus. you really strengthened your friendship after visiting reiners hometown over mid-winter break. while you and reiner were babysitting his cousin, her best friend tagged along, who was the little brother of colt.

you were getting a little nervous until you heard someone call your name and wave you over. jean kirstein, from the car. jean pissed you off on so many levels, but he also made you feel safe in a way. running over to where he was, you took a seat in between him and his best friend.

“hey marco! kirstein.”

“ouch... you’re so cold sometimes, y/n”

jean always had to make a dramatic comment no matter what the situation was. settling into your seat, you stayed quiet for the most part after that. the game was close to being over when you got up from your spot.

“gonna use the bathroom, ill be right back.”

you didn’t actually have to pee, just needed a moment away from the screaming and loud noises. running towards the extra, empty parking lot. you felt someone grab your arm, dragging you into the darkness. about to scream, you felt a hand cover your mouth.

“shhh, its just me.”

wiggling out of his grip, you pushed him into the brick wall. he let out a chuckle, surprised you could shove him like that.

“you dipshit, i thought i was getting kidnapped.”

you felt rough hands pull you by the waist into his chest.

“yeah well anyone would want to get their hands on a pretty girl like you, i’ve warned you about wandering at night by yourself... haven’t i?”

“touché, jaeger”

his slender fingers found their way up your thighs and under your skirt, teasing the hem of your panties.

“not here jaeger, i have to get back to-”

“back to the boyfriend, yeah.” - he didn't stop though, he snuck his hand down to make contact with your clit, rubbing small, soft circles around it. “remember our agreement though? if you want, i can break it... show everyone your-”

“fine. make it quick.”

“you don't make the rules here, ill take as much time as i need.”

eren jaeger was popular around campus, not in the same way as reiner though. he wasn't some big shot blonde football player, just well known for being a jackass. his reputation started in the beginning of the year. he was a pretty low-key guy, just down to fuck almost anyone who asked. but then he'd just break their hearts, but girls always still tried getting him to fall for them.

he released your skirt and pushed you back up against the wall. as you both switched positions, you could see the faint red in his eyes, pulled out by the street light.

his lips found yours, roughly shoving his tongue into your mouth. once he felt that was enough, he flipped you over on the wall. to avoid scraping your face or getting your shirt dirty, you pushed your hands up onto the wall. you heard the familiar unbuckle of eren’s belt, and the shuffling of him trying to free his erect cock.

brining his hand in front of your mouth, he cupped it a bit. knowing what he wanted you to do, you spit right into it twice. he then brought his hand back and lathered his cock with your saliva. pulling the bottom of your skirt up to your waist, he pushed your panties to the side before slowly sliding himself into you.

not bothering to care about the stinging you might've been feeling, he brought himself back out before slamming right back in. repeating and repeating, going at a roughly fast pace.

“‘ren sl-... slow down.”

“shut up, whore. you should... fuck- should know your place by now.”

letting out a whimper, you felt your fingertips push so hard into the wall, bound to leave a scratch. you then had them peeled off the concrete wall, as eren pulled both of you backwards. pulling out, he spun you around and pushed you back up onto the wall.

he brought your thigh up to meet his hip, before thrusting himself back into you.

“your little pussy takes me so fuckin’ well”

clenching around him from his words, you let your head fall down onto his shoulder.

“want me to fill you u-”

he was cut off by the sound of your phone ringing. brining your head up, you went to go pull your phone out and hit decline... but eren beat you to it. he took your phone and hit accept, holding it up to your ear.

babe?

‘r-reiner!’

nice win, right?

‘y-yeah you were... you were amazing as always’

cuz i was thinkin’ of you. anyways i'm heading to the locker room, you with bert?

you felt yourself start to panic at the heat of the moment. you were on the phone with your boyfriend as you were getting pounded by the biggest dick on campus. he was ruthless. not bothering to slow down or stop, he just thrusted in harder and faster than before.

‘no actually-’ you were about to let out a moan but you covered it up with a cough ‘just i-in... the bath- the bathroom’

you okay?

‘yeah i’m... fine, 'm fine. ill see you in a few’

alright, love you

‘i love, love you too.’

right when you hung up you choked out a load moan that's been building up. without warning, eren came and shot right up inside you. of course he wouldn't make you cum at a scene like this.

pulling out, he pushed the seeping cum back up with his fingers, before pulling your panties back in place and fixing your skirt.

“now go hangout with your boyfriend while your full of my cum.”

“eren-”

he turned you around back out of the darkness and playfully smacked your ass before giving your back a little push.

“i promise i’ll make it up to you, now run along like a good girl.”

giving him a frown, you made your way to the exit of the locker room. you stood there waiting for reiner, clenching your thighs together.

dinner with reiner was sweeter than usual. most times after a game you were dragged to a loud diner with all his friends, forced to hangout with them. but tonight, reiner just wanted it to be you and him. nothing special though, just a quick food joint. walking back to your dorm, you felt the guilt build up in your chest like it always did.

arriving at the front door of your single-person dorm, reiner pulled you into a soft, sweet kiss.

“practice is canceled tomorrow, i can stay for once.”

of course, the one night you're stuffed to the brim with another man’s cum.

opening the door, you let him in. the two of you laid kissing on the bed, before he tried sneaking his hand up your skirt.

you felt yourself start to internally freak out. if he were to finger you right now, he'd just be met with a load of cum.

“i-im on my period.”

reiner was always understanding, so of course he was in this position.

“ok, that's fine. we can just cuddle and watch a movie.”

“sounds good” after placing a kiss on his cheek, you got up to go put a pair of sweats on, before returning back to your bed.

he must've been worn out from the game, as he almost immediately fell asleep in your arms. you couldn’t help but feel guilty, thinking about eren. do you wish it was him laying in your arms right now? no. reiner is everything you could ever ask for. you knew he deserved the world, you don't want to hurt him like you are now.

but you knew what would happen if you didn't give eren what he wanted.

and that'd be even worse.

#aot smut #aot #aot x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan smut #aot fic #attack on titan fic #attack on titan x reader #eren jaeger #eren smut #eren yaegar #eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger x reader #eren x reader #smut #anime #anime smut #eren yaeger smut

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kanene-yaaay · 4 years ago

Text

Sleep

Kanene’s note: Heya! It’s me, Mario!!! dfghjkrgthjk jk jk. Okay, that idea hit me in the middle of the night and I think it’s very cute!! So have a bit of tickles and fluff and teases today!

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* This characters don’t belongs to me! They all belong to the anime/manga Boku no Hero.

* This is a SFW tickle fanfic, so, if you don’t appreciate this kind of content, please, look for another blog. There are a plenty of fabulous arts in this site!! ^w^)b

* This is Switch!Yamada with Switch!Aizawa. They’re in a romantic relationship. Around 2.200 words.

* The Ler!Aizawa part was inspired by these tickle-headcanons! They’re absolutely amazing!!!!

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any and every advice is very very welcome! \(-w-)/

* Consume some of your comfort content! Fanfic, series, movies... anything that makes u happy! Drink water, sleep, eat and love! Today is another day and I’m proud that we’re both still here.

[~*~]

Yamada woke up to complete darkness.

Which wasn't such a rare occurrence. With both his and his husband’s tendencies of having migraines their room was often bathed in a total lack of light, and that, together with the fact of Aizawa being an incorrigible cuddle bug who soaked his ‘daily dose of morning snuggles’ – as Hizashi loved to call them and loved even more the other’s blushed face and deadly glare directed at him every time he dared to say such thing - was enough for him to find no surprise at all in feeling the pressure of Aizawa basically using him as his own personal bed.

“Morning, babe.” He maneuvered himself to gently kick Shouta’s legs off him, which resulted in the immediate locking of arms on the blonde’s waist, Shouta mumbling whatevers as he nuzzles his chest, making Yamada giggles quietly. He began to comb Aizawa’s hair with his fingers, both out of adoration with how much adorable his husband could be and to take it from his own face so he would be able to see what time it was.

Eight in the morning. Yep. Time to start getting ready for their meeting with Nedzu and his usual Saturday patrol. He would also need some time in between those to call the Radio’s station and see if everything was ok with today’s interviewed, get a couple more of songs to play tonight and make sure to come back at two in the afternoon so he and Eri could have some quality time as Shouta slept a bit to not pass out on his night patrol.

OK. That sounds like a plan! Time to begin the day with a proper breakfast since both were equally horrible in keeping a healthy routine and he would probably forget to eat lunch since Eri wouldn’t be there with him serving as an adorable, lovely reminder that humans have basic needs in order to be alive.

He tried to move, receiving an annoyed growl as an answer, the arms squeezing a bit firmer. Hizashi snorted.

“Sho, I need to make breakfast and wake up Eri, okay?” He kissed the top of his head and traced an imaginary flower on his cheek, voice soft, feeling the other melt on him, humming happily. “You can sleep a few minutes more.”

“No. Warm.”

“I will bring you our cats, you can show your undying love to them, then.” Hizashi tried to pry the other’s grip from him, unsuccessfully. “Come on, let me go. We have a meeting to attend with Nedzu today, remember?”

“Fuck ‘im.”

Hizashi controlled himself to not bark a laughter, fingers itching to get his phone and amplify his blackmail treasures. “Shh, he will hear you.”

“’don’t wanna cats,” Aizawa’s tune was slurred and he deposited a tired kiss on his bare shoulder, “I wan’ you.”

And damn if that didn’t turn his weak heart in a happy gooey puddle, his smile going from one ear to another and his resolve to be a responsible adult and get out of the bed was almost burned to total inexistence.

Key word: Almost.

Especially when the raven haired adult sighs contently, his breath lightly tickling his neck and leading to a quite evil idea to gain form and color on his mind. His smile got wider, eviller.

“Okay, babe.” Yamada’s hands rested on the other’s sides, going up, fingers smoothly running across his ribs, his nails barely grazing the skin as they went slowly back and forth, back and forth. A soft ‘tsk’ flew on the air as the smaller began to squirm. “Let’s have some fun then, shall we?”

His index fingers stopped their dance to focus on his lowest rib, circling that sweet spot in the middle of it while the other fingers concentrated in clawing the horribly sensitive skin around it, staying firm on their task even when Aizawa jumped with the ticklish jolts that hit him.

“H-hi-hizasshhhi.” His tone was low, warning. His brain still trying to wake up enough while his body wobbly fought to escape from the sensations, his struggles increasing specifically when his husband adjusted him so he would be laying on his back on the top of him, arms criss crossed on his chest.

“Oh, is someone finally waking up? ~” Aizawa scrunched, Yamada’s breath hitting his ears. However, his attempts proved themselves futile as the other took as his duty to nibble, huff and puff on the ticklish spot, going from one ear to another with ease, finally breaking his husband’s barriers and being rewarded by a low, fast giggly fit. “I wonder what I did to deserve that my incredible, handsome decided to bless my morning with his sunny presence today!”

“Hizashi, I am going to k-ILL” His snickers suddenly raised an octave as the blonde gave a quick squeeze on his hips that made his waist jerk instinctively.

“Now, now, is that way to greet the love of your life?” Hizashi whined. “Stop laughing, Sho! I’m trying to hold a serious conversation here but something tells me you’re distracted.” Yamada kept lazily poking him, slow enough to leave him breathing properly, but quick enough to tear snorts and chuckles from his firmly pressed lips.

“D-d-don’t.” His face was in flames as a barely muffled squeak fell from his mouth as Hizashi gave a quick nip right behind his left ear, letting out an adoring ‘Awww. Isn’t he adorableee?~’ in the process.

“I am- I am going to get you back for that! You know I will!”

“So grumpy, so cutee. ~”

He tried to turn in order to give his beloved a deadly glare which usually made his students and villains fear for their lives, his eyes only barely catching his husband’s bright smile before his breath was stole when his partner resolved to attack, unmerciful squeezes mixed with a couple of thumbs digging energetically on his hips, kneading, tickling.

His laughter filled the room.

“HIZASHI!!” He kicked and trashed, but in vain.

“What is it, babe?” The other started to switch between his tickle spots, knowing he couldn’t take it too long or they would be late. “Wow! I didn’t know you could be so alive in the mornings, love!! Have you been hiding that from your awesome husband all along?” Nails scratching on his armpits, fingers prodding his ribs, wriggling on his waistline, drumming on his belly. “All that beautiful laughter? All that wonderful snorts? And giggles? And squeals? Now, I am wounded, Sho! I thought we didn’t keep secrets from each other!”

When nothing except laughter and squirming answered him, he decided to stop, deciding the few minutes of fun were already enough adrenaline to maintain Shouta conscious enough until he prepared his coffee. He quickly laid the other on the mattress, resting some kisses on his face as his husband got his breath back.

“You-” He gasped, hiding his smile behind his hand. “You better run.”

In a second Hizashi was out of their bed, “OkayloveyousomuchbabeI’mgoingtowakeEriupdon’tkillmeIloveyousosomuchbye.”

And run he did.

[~*~]

Shouta dumped his capture weapon on the couch, immediately seeing three blurs of fur dashing from his peripheral vision directly to the object, meowing and getting tangled as they fiercely ‘fought’ with it. Shouta knew that this being his weapon and therefore an important part of his work, he shouldn’t let his cats play with it. However, as he petted two fluffy heads that popped from the cloth and the exhaustion started to totally take over his body and actions, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He had some spare scarves somewhere, he was sure.

“Dumb cats.” He fondly remarked, scratching their newest kitten under her chin before adventuring to his room, stopping only to check on Eri and relax as he found her calmly sleeping on her bed. Good.

His eyes narrowed as he noticed the light coming from under his bedroom, sighing and putting his eyedrops, already aware of the other fight he would have to face.

“Hizashi,” it’s his greeting. The blonde hums, glare still clued on the screen in front of him, head resting on one of his hands, “it’s three in the morning and we have classes tomorrow. Turn that thing off.”

“Hypocrisy, hypocrisy.” Yamada sings, hand rocking in the beat of his imaginary melody, the tiredness dripping from his words. Yet he took off his headphones, turning on his direction with alert eyes. “Are you hurt?”

“Nah, slow night.”

“Good.” Hizashi smiled. A small, true smile that spread a warm feeling across his chest and only made his resolute to protect his husband from every bad thing in the world grew stronger, even if the ‘bad thing’ which threatened him right now was his horrible sleep schedule. “We saved some dango for you. It’s on the fridge.”

Aizawa nodded, watching him turn back to his computer. “I’m going to grade 1-A tests when I am back.” And that perked the other’s attention, since both had the habit of grading tests together in order to get some quality time on their incredibly busy lives.

That is why the taller was sitting on the bed with a pack of papers in his hands when Shouta came back, falling on the mattress face first, relaxing on the soft fabric. But, he couldn’t concentrate on that feeling now, turning to his left and trapping Yamada with his arms around his sides, legs entangling.

“Sleep.” He clued his face on the other’s stomach, his voice vibrating across the skin and gathering a mix of snort and squeal, probably because of the ticklish sensation.

Oh. Ticklish.

“Babe, I really can’t right now. There are those videos I asked for my students to do and I really need to analyze and give them the results before the weekend.” Aizawa scolded his expression so his devil smirk wouldn’t be noticed by Hizashi, instead he looked up, locking their eyes, his features inexpressive as ever.

Hizashi bit his lower lip.

He frowned, intense glares.

“Okay, okay! You know I am weak for those kitten eyes, your cheater.” The blonde pouted and pointedly ignored the smug shining on his partner’s face. “But this is only a break, ok? Just some cuddles and then I’m going to finish my work.”

Aizawa hummed, not quite agreeing, not disagreeing. Yamada laid down and chuckled as the raven haired adult quickly hid his face on his neck, a hand absently running on his back and melting his strict pose.

“Cuddlebug.”

A yelp escaped from his lips as Aizawa used a thumb to prod the so, so sensitive skin between his shoulder blades. The morning events from yesterday fell on him as a bucket of cold water, sending shivers down on his spine, essentially when Yamada tried to wiggle away, finding his form very well secured on his love’s arms.

“Shouta, no.” Shouta hummed, his voice vibrating on the sweet spot that was his neck, his stubble helping in nothing the giggles which already began to bubble on his throat. “Shouta, please, my love, light of my life,” he could almost feel the other’s wicked grin grow, the hand tensing behind him, “no, no, no! I can’t! You know I can’t! Shouta, I-”

And with no warning a loud shriek - which didn’t break their windows due how fast Aizawa activated his own quirk - dashed from his mouth, laughter blooming as a mix of pokes, scratches and kneading along the whole extent of his upper back, even giving some special attention to his ribs and spine, kept him in stitches.

His back arched at the tickly tickles, sending him directly to the unbearable nuzzles of his husband, the main reason for so many squeaks and squeals make themselves present on his uncontrollable laughter.

“Tsk, tsk. One would think that such a known pro-hero would be able to put up with a better fight.” Nuzzle. Scribble. Unintelligible pleas of mercy. Raspberry. “Always so easy to read…You could at least try to pretend you aren’t loving every. Second. Of. It.”

“Shouta! Nono! Shuhuhut up! Shut up!”

“It’s not my fault you were always so defenseless to teases. What about we train you to endure them?”

Hizashi shook his head, laughing and shrieking too much to gather a real answer.

And, as sudden the attack came, it was gone. The hand went up to gently massage his scalp, tearing a relaxed sigh from Yamada as he fought to get his breath back, high-pitched giggles still tripping from his lips since the light tickles continued on his poor neck, sporadic kisses and eventual nibbles on the spot right under his chin maintaining his gigantic, bright smile.

“So ticklish, so helpless. Just a few well placed touches and I can already defeat you.”

“You talk as if you were any less susceptible.” A squeeze on his knee warned him about the possible consequence of his words. Hizashi pinched his thigh in retaliation, although much less energetic.

“Don’t. Different from you, I want to get some real sleep.” And then he started to comb the blonde hair, Yamada’s eyelids began to drop, his tiredness now being much more present as the other used his number one melt spot against him.

“Cheater…”

“You will survive.” Shouta tilted his head up and kissed his husband’s lips, also starting to drift away as Hizashi’s arms pulled him closer.

“Good night, babe.”

“Night.”

#Switch!Aizawa #Switch!Yamada #Ticklish!Shouta #Ticklish!Hizashi #bnha tickles #bnha tickling #Aizawa *being tickled*: I am going to get you back! You know I will/ Mic *chuckles*: I am in danger :]#They're precious #Romantic relationship #Mouth tickles #Light and hard tickles #Teases and tickles #Kanene's Fic #Kanene's Fanfic #Kanene's Art #<333 #I didn't proofread this so I will be making some edits on the future!

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darling-i-read-it · 4 years ago

Text

...And the Beast From the Sea

3x11

Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, guns, pregnancy, worries of miscarriage

Author’s Note: Dudes I love this one so much. I really really liked this one. It’s hella long but the last one was short so I think that’s okay. I am very excited for y’all to read this one because I made some expenitonal changes to the script which I’m excited for you guys to see. Enjoy!

I used some direct quotes from the script so some things may seem familiar

Official Episode Summary: With a full moon approaching, Jack and Will are certain that Francis Dolarhyde will strike again but they lack a solid lead; Alana gives Hannibal a chance for redemption.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director

Tag List (is always open!) : @llperfectsymmetryll @ericacactus @vlightning95 @sweetgoodangel

(not my gif) (top two @/rocktheholygrail)

“Nightly news countdown to the next full moon. Chicago and Buffalo police are under a media blitz,” Jack said. You, Will and Alana were all in his office. Will had made it a sport to argue against you going with him anywhere these days but he knew he would lose the fight.

“Two days left. And he’s not going to kill again in Chicago or Buffalo. He’s moved on,” you muttered. You were sitting beside Alana. Will was standing behind you.

“Let me fill you in on what’s up for the twenty-fifth.”

“When he does it again?”

“If we have a problem on the twenty-fifth.”

“Not ‘if’. ‘When,” Will muttered.

“He didn’t kill the docket at the museum. What if he’s trying to stop?” Alana asked.

“He would’ve been better killing her. And both of you,” Jack suggested. You pursed your lips.

“I know we don’t get along Jack but that’s just cruel,” you teased.

“You think there's a way to push him to be self destructive?” Jack asked, ignoring you completely.

“You mean push him toward suicide?” Alana asked.

“Suicide suits me just fine,” Jack muttered.

“If he was really trying to stop he’s not going to kill himself. How could he be sure his death would affect whatever's inside him?” Will asked. He had his hands shoved in his pockets, his mind reeling.

“You must know something about him otherwise you wouldn’t have found him,” Jack leaded. You gave him a look. Will gave him a harder one.

“Jack Crawford. Fisher of men, watching my cork move against the current. You got me again.” Will was bitter. You liked it. “Hannibal told me where to find him. He knows.”

Hannibal and Francis talked to each other. Francis was relying on this conversation to clear some things up. A couple of things.

“I..put my hand...on her beating heart. Heard the sound of her..living voice. A..living woman. How bizarre,” Francis whispered. Reba flashed in his mind. Beautiful. “I don’t want to give her to the Dragon,” he whispered.

“The Dragon is in your belly now. The Dragon wants her alive, you don't’ have to worry about feeling love for her,” Hannibal explained. Francis looked at Hannibal.

“Is that how you stayed with Y/N?” At the mention of your name Hannibal tensed. Ever so slightly. If Francis wasn’t paying acute attention he wouldn’t have noticed. He read it as something bad. Something that struck something dark in Hannibal that he wished to be rid of. “And Will Graham. He interests me. Odd looking for an investigator, not very handsome. But purposeful. They’re married aren’t they?”

Another slight change in attitude.

Slight.

But there.

And if he wasn’t going to kill Reba then he had to kill someone else.

“Yes, yes. I see.” Your voice was quiet. Will watched you speak, your hand holding your other arm. You were on the phone with the neighbors that were watching your dogs. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Thank you so much for calling.”

You hung up the phone and let out a long sigh. You looked over at Will. You were both standing in one of the main rooms of Alana's hospital. You finally looked over at him and he grabbed your hand gently, bringing you toward him.

“That was the neighbors girls. They say that the dogs have been sick, all of them. I’m going to go home and see to them, make sure it’s all okay.” Will nodded quickly as he held you in his arms. He was happy about this. He didn’t want you here, in harm's way. The safest place for you was home. “I’ll sleep the night, take the dogs to the vet and return the next day. I’ll bring new doggo with me.” You moved away from him to gauge his reactions.

“This is good,” he whispered, brushing a piece of hair out of your face. “It’s safe at home.” You shrugged.

“I like to keep you safe.”

“But you have to think of yourself now. You have to keep safe,” he whispered. “Both of you.” You closed your eyes for a moment and took that in. It sounded so pleasant from his voice. A child. His child. You loved the idea of a curly haired little boy running around that had his blue eyes.

“Two days we’ll be away from each other. And I shall call you when I get there and also when I am about to leave. And probably between that.” He nodded.

“Of course.”

“I have to do a little homework,” Francis said. Reba handed him a fresh martini and he took it, sitting on his couch between the projector and screen. Music played softly around them. Reba sat beside him, curious to what he was up to today.

“Sure. If I’m keeping you from working, I can go,” she suggested. He shook his head quickly and realized she couldn’t see him. It would take some getting used to.

“No. I want you to be here. I do. It’s just some film I need to check. It won’t take long,” he promised.

“Does it have a soundtrack?” Reba asked.

“No.”

“May I keep the music?” she asked.

“Um-hmm.”

“I think I’ll stretch out for a few minutes, if you don’t mind.” He started to move so that she could lay down but she shook her head gently. “No, don’t move. I have plenty of room. Wake me up if I drop off,” she whispered. She lied down on the couch, holding the glass to her stomach. The tips of her hair touched Francis' hand beside his tight. He flicked the remote switch on and the projector began. Light flickered and whired across both his and Reba’s face. “Are these your nocturnal animals?” she asked quietly.

“Um-hmmm”

The picture moved down from a bright white moon to find you, smiling and laughing as you moved toward a cabin in the woods, holding a blanket in your hands. A pack of dogs excitedly milled around your feet.

“They know they’re being filmed?” Reba asked.

“No.”

You stood in the vet anxiously. As the vet came back in you stood up quickly. You had talked to the girls who were taking care of the dogs and they were just as worried as you had been.

“They may have gotten into something they shouldn’t have. Has there been any change in their diet?” she asked. You took a deep breath and felt the guilt creep in.

“Wi-my husband usually makes their food from scratch. We’ve been out of town with some dog sitters and I told them to just give them canned food,” you explained.

“Was it canned food made in China?” she asked.

“Is it bad to be made in China?” you asked anxiously.

“If you’re pet food. Dogs get poisoned by Chinese pet food all the time. Pet food safety isn't’ regulated the same way as human food. And it’s barely regulated at all in China. There have been thousands of illnesses and deaths.”

All of the sudden you thought about having to call Will with the news that, despite the fact you were having a human child, all the dog ones were going to die. That was a call you never want to make. Ever.

“Are the dogs going to be okay?” you asked, moving the long sleeves of your shirt up to wrap your fingers around it.

“Yes. You got them here fast and the activated charcoal should soak up whatever’s in their system. But it’d be helpful if you brought me a sample of whatever they’ve been eating so we can run some tests,” the vet said. You nodded quickly.

“I’ll bring it by tomorrow.” The vet put a hand on your arm with a warm smile.

“We’ll keep the dogs overnight so we can monitor their recovery. They’ll be fine.”

You nodded with a smile released.

Will walked into Hannibal’s caged room. Hannibal got up from his desk and walked over to the glass.

“I’m not fortune’s fool. I’m yours. ‘Behold the Great Red Dragon’,” Will said.

“And did you?” Hannibal questioned.

“I had a random encounter.” Hannibal looked behind him as the door shut quietly. He furrowed his eyebrows.

“Where’s Y/N?”

“The Brooklyn Museum is closed to the public on Tuesdays, but researchers are admitted. You know that’s when we’d both be going,” Will said, ignoring the question. Hannibal tried to push you out of his mind. Likely just toying with him.

“A sophisticated intelligence can forecast many things. I suppose mine is sophisticated enough. You’re so close to him now. You and the Dragon are doing the same thing at various times of the day,” Hannibal said, allowing his ignorance of you to seep.

“He’s contacted you.”

“How do you imagine he’s contacted me? Personal ads? Writing notes on admiration on toilet paper?” Hannibal asked.

“Alana thinks he’s trying to stop,” Will suggested. Hannibal came closer to the glass and Will did not move.

“To begin to understand the Dragon, to hear the cold drips in his darkness, Dr. Bloom would have to see things she could never see,” Hannibal promised. “She would have to fly through time.”

“There is a family out there who don’t know he’s coming. We could save them. Tell me who he is.”

“I don’t know who he is.” Will studied Hannibal’s face and knew he was telling the truth. “And I do not know the next family, before you ask.” He was telling the truth about that too.

“You’re willing to let them die.”

“They’re not my family Will. And I’m not letting them die. You are.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt. You have a telephone call. It’s your lawyer. Would you like to take it?” Alana asked.

“Did he say why he was calling?” Hannibal questioned.

“I called him. To confirm that he hasn’t called you. Not since you’ve been declared insane,” she stated. Hannibal shrugged.

“I could have told you that.”

“If only I’d known to ask.”

“If only.”

“Would you have told me the truth?” she asked.

“In my own way, I always have,” he promised. Alana pressed a button and spoke into the telephone.

“Mr. Metcalf. That’ll be all for now. Thank you for your time.” She killed the call and now her cold anger showed. The door behind her opened and Jack entered. “You were speaking to the Tooth Fairy.”

“I think he’s earned the right to be known by the name he’s chosen. He is the Great Red Dragon,” Hannibal said. Jack approached the glass wall.

“You have hubbed hell, Dr. Lecter.”

“I often do.”

“You got what you wanted. Suddenly, you’re very relevant. There is one way for you to stay relevant...and comfortable,” Alana said. Hannibal thought about it for a moment.

“You want me to speak with the Dragon. You believe he will seek counsel after the next kill.”

“We’ve got to make your contact work for us. Standing trace order for any time you’re on the phone. When he calls, you keep him on the line.” Hannibal inclined his head.

“I can’t refuse him a sympathetic ear. He no doubt needs it.”

The house seemed so empty. The dogs gone, Will away. You had to pick them up in the morning and then be gone again. In the meantime, you were staying up late to make as much dog food as you could.

“Yeah and add a little bit of the meat I have in the fridge,” Will said over the phone. His voice was staticy but there. It made you feel safer.

“Alright I think we’re good. Thank you sweetface,” you said, leaning into the phone.

“Anytime. Have a good night's sleep. Drink water. I love you.” You smiled gently to yourself.

“I love you too. Sleep tight!” You hung up the phone and then it was empty again. You glanced at the clock. Much too late. You shouldn’t have kept Will up, he needed to sleep. “I suppose I should sleep too,” you said aloud. You convinced yourself you were speaking to your unformed child rather than yourself. That sounded less insane.

You put the dog food in the fridge and finished up the last of the notes for the neighbors teenagers. You took a deep breath and turned around, eyes catching the green of the alarm monitor.

Caught it just soon enough to see it go dead.

You didn’t realize what that meant right away. Then it hit you. Fear slammed into you and you tensed up completely. You grabbed your phone and shoved it in your pajama pants pocket. You grabbed a knife from the knife block and quietly walked over to the kitchen table, where your keys were. You peaked out the window and saw a man outside, walking up the front steps.

Your breath caught in your throat.

You tried to control your fear as you quietly walked around back. You heard the door jiggle open. You were suddenly reminded of your second body, Will’s words screaming into your heart. Both of you to keep safe.

You suddenly missed Will terribly. You opened the back door quietly and stalked around the side of the house. As you ducked underneath windows you felt your heart beating in your ears. You held the knife tightly in your hand as you peaked around the side of the house to see if he was outside.

The coast from where you were to the car was clear from what you could tell.

You closed your eyes tightly and then opened them just as quickly.

You sprinted to the car and unlocked it on your way. You jumped into the driver's seat and struggled to put the keys in the ignition.

Your attacker had heard the car unlock and he was on the porch now. Gunshots broke your front window and shattered onto your lap. You squealed just as the car started and you were able to pull out.

You, however, were not able to miss the gunshot that hit you in the shoulder harshly. You let out a harsh surprised noise as your arm pretty much went limp. With your other arm you were able to drive away from your home. Your home. The place you had found so sacred. Will’s and yours first place together.

You focused on driving through the dark, winding roads and hoped that he wasn’t following.

Will ran through the hospital. A horrible glare of the hospital fluorescents over his face as he approached Jack Crawford.

“Where is she?” he asked rushingly.

“In surgery now.”

He did not seem to be any more eased at that.

“You’re both safe here,” Jack said and Will gave him a harsh look.

“Now is not the time to talk to me Jack. Not the time at all.” Will pushed past him. He didn’t know where he was going. He couldn’t see you. All he could do was pace. He wanted to ask Jack about the baby. He wondered, terribly, if the baby was gone. Two times in a row his child would be ripped from him by the puppeteer strings of Hannibal Lecter he was sure.

Will couldn’t make it make sense. He thought that Hannibal liked you. He thought for sure that you, if anyone, was safe from his wrath.

Jack took his turn approaching Will again, now that some time had passed by. The doctors promised you would be okay but made no mention of the baby.

“You think you might lose me after this, Jack? You think I might go back to my family?” Will asked, teeth almost barred. Jack stared at him.

“For a minute, I did.”

“I want so badly to. If she had died because of this I would have killed you with my bare hands Jack. She warned me against you time and time again. And again. If she had died because of you…” his voice trailed off but Jack got the message. “But then I realized what you realized. I can’t go home, and neither can Y/N, never, until the Red Dragon is out of the way.” Will looked away.

“As soon as Y/N can be moved we’ll put her at my brother’s house on the chesapeake. Nobody in the world will know where they are but you and-”

“She’s pregnant.”

Jack stopped. This information hit him and it sunk in, very slowly. He took a deep breath. He was careful speaking.

“Have you asked-”

“No. I’m too scared to,” Will admitted. He looked back at Jack and shook his head. “But if the baby lived or didn’t, if she is able to walk, she’s not going to leave my side now. She’ll put on a brave face and walk with me wherever I’ll go and you will let her.” He paused, thinking. “I’ll let her.” His eyes lightened slightly. “And even if she didn’t, she wouldn’t want anything from you. She’d be glad to see you in hell with your back broken.”

Something about the truth in that made Jack want to smile.

Will walked into the room. You had been awake just long enough to talk to the doctor. Will had been in the bathroom when you woke up but now he rushed toward you.

He practically skidded on the ground to grab your hands. You gave him a weak smile but your face was practically dead. You swallowed and squeezed his hand. Will didn’t say anything for a moment.

“The baby is alright,” you whispered. He let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. “The bullet hit my shoulder, far away from anything that could harm them.” Now that that was out of the way, he could apologize for you. You had been hurt. That was impossible.

“The dogs are safe. I’m going to pick them up tomorrow and bring them here.” You nodded.

“Bring the vet the canned food.” He laughed dryly.

“I don’t think that’s a priorit-”

“Bring it,” you stated weakly. He nodded, not willing to argue with you right now. You looked up at the ceiling and then over at him, smiling at his pretty face. “I made the food. You have to bring that too, I’m proud of it.” He nodded, kissing your hands he was holding.

“I will.” There was a beat of silence.

“You aren’t going to get me to leave. The second I can sit up I will be back out there with you.” He nodded lightly.

“I wish you wouldn't. But I know.” You looked into his eyes, hard.

“Hannibal did not advise this.”

“He knows about the killer, things he couldn’t possibly know unless he knew about him. There’s no way that this wasn’t him.” You shook your head.

“He wouldn’t. Not to me.” Will believed that, despite it all. He kissed your hands again and stood up.

“I’m going to ask him.” He waited for you to respond but you just thought about that for a moment.

“I wanted to be the one to tell him. But I see now that you must.” He nodded. It would add to the effect, whichever way that effect went.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you more.”

Will quickly walked up to Hannibal’s cage. Hannibal could tell something was wrong immediately. Will looked like he was about to kill someone with his bare hands.

“I’m just about worn out with you crazy sons of bitches,” Will stated. Hannibal raised an eyebrow.

“It hasn’t hit the papers yet. Care to enlighten me on the family this time around? Did the dog make it?” Will stared at Hannibal, dumbfounded.

“You really don’t know do you?” Hannibals face scrunched into confusion.

“I’m sorry, should I?” Hannibal questioned. Will’s lips turned into a bitter smile. He knew that Hannibal had talked to this killer and Will was about to relish in the fact that he got to tell Hannibal his efforts had messed up someone he cared about.

“Y/N went home to tend to the dogs for the day,” Will started, really milking this out. “Dr. Lecter, the killer went for her.”

Hannibal’s mind worked quickly. He took a deep breath in and for once, hung off the words that Will was saying. He hadn’t suggested Francis kill you but he should have known he would. He should have known. He was almost angry at himself for not seeing it.

“Is she alright?”

“Yes.” Hannibal let out a barely audible sigh of relief. For once it was the two men, almost in love with each other but definitely in love with you, just happy you were alive. “She was shot but she’s fine.” Will paused. “She’s pregnant. Still pregnant. You didn’t get this child and you won’t.”

Hannibal took that in quietly. He would deal with that later.

“I’m happy for her. Happy for you both.” Will turned to leave, finished with this conversation and wanting to return to you but Hannibal did not let him. “Will?”

He turned.

“Yes?”

“I didn’t know it was her.”

As the orderly came into the room, Hannibal almost jumped up. But instead, he kept his dignity and walked over to the phone, taking it in his hands. He knew that Jack and Alana were listening. He had to keep this careful.

“If I’m not as strong as the Dragon, she will die. I know that,” Francis said firstly, bluntly. “I need to think. I need to think. I told her I can’t be with her.”

“Y/N Graham is not dead,” he pointed out stoutly. Francis did not like that he changed the subject so quickly.

“I chose Y/N because she rejected you. I chose Y/N and she should be dead.” Hannibal straightened his back. “I’m afraid she will come to the house. To talk. I don't want what will happen in the house.” He was now referring to Reba, not you but Hannibal knew how to steer a conversation.

“What made you think I wanted Y/N dead?”

“You insinuated-”

“No. I did not.” Hannibal stared through Jack and Alana, enjoying an audience but wishing these next words were spoken in confidence. “You thought wrongly. You insinuated wrongly.” Hannibal straightened his lips. “Think about how you wanted to hold Y/N in your arms, as she lost blood and her heart quivered like a bird until it went out. Think about it.” He paused, allowing him to think. “Now think about Reba in her place. Because that is what is coming.”

Francis didn’t know how to react to that.

“They’re listening,” Hannibal said and hung up the phone.

Alana and Jack looked betrayed but Alana was all too happy for what came next.

“You’ve just lost your toilet Hannibal,” Alana said.

And Hannibal did not say it but he knew it was worth it.

3x12

#hannibal lecter x reader #will graham x reader #will graham imagines #hannibal lecter imagines #hannibal lecter x reader x will graham #will graham x reader x hannibal lecter #hannibal imagines

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pomegranates-and-blood · 4 years ago

Text

νοσταλγία (Chapter 10)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Summary: This is a retelling/romantization of the Greek myth of Persephone’s abduction with Ivar as Hades and you as Persephone. The Reader character is a Byzantine woman, follower of the Greek Pantheon/Religion, and a devoted follower of Persephone. This takes place after 5A, but the universe of this is a little changed in relation with the series, of course. Thank you for giving it a chance, hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 3.0k

Warnings: The usual

A/N: Okay, I’m not happy with most some parts of this chapter, but I wanted to post it anyways cause I don’t really know how to make it better, and also I didn’t wanna be late on the Tuesday uploads so...here you go. Hope you like it, and I would love to hear from you! :)

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @toe-vind-ek-jou

The King is too busy to demand your presence at his side more than a few scarce times a day, so you are free of the reminder of the new set of chains that are to be set upon you soon.

Still, it’s only two days since your…fate was sealed that you find yourself once again unmoored by the King’s whims and impossible to understand desires.

Helios has barely stated crossing the skies when you are roused from sleep, your heart beating the pace of a rabbit and images of a woman smiling behind a red veil haunting you with their etherealness, your mind not being able to latch onto what the Gods tried telling you.

When you are sent out to collect some crates of herbs and spices from a merchant that arrived the night before, you catch sight of, more than the usual curious or distrusting eyes set upon you, a single eyed man following your moves.

You turn to catch him, and he doesn’t bother pretending not to be following you. The white-haired man is a sight you recognize as one of the King’s warriors, and realization falls upon you.

Not only do you have people stationed outside of the home you sleep in, or soldiers bound to move you from place to place at the King’s whims, but you have men dedicated to following you when you walk around.

The old warrior probably senses your anger and unasked questions, and walks past you towards the crates you left on the ground, picking them up with ease.

“I’m here in case you try something…ill-advised.”

“Like working?”

“Like escaping.” He supplies, chuckling amusedly when you wrestle the crates from his arms with a huff.

Furrowing your lips, you stalk your way back to the apothecary. You could swear the old man makes his footsteps heavier on purpose as he walks behind you.

Almost half a day later one of the elders is teaching you -more patiently than you deserve- how to make a poultice to stop a wound from bleeding when the door opens suddenly, startling you from your work.

You watch with wide eyes as the King walks into the small shop, and judging by the sharp intakes of breath, the mutters and stares, the rest of the women are as surprised as you.

He still hasn’t announced his deranged plan to make you his wife, or at least hasn’t announced it to anyone that would start a rumor, for -thankfully enough- to the people of this kingdom you seem to be another freed slave, another merchant from a faraway land.

“Priestess.” Ivar calls out, and you walk from behind one of the half-walls, greeting him with the same taunt.

“Viking.”

“What are you still doing here?” He asks, pale eyes looking over the shop with disinterest.

You frown, recalling the anger that coursed through you earlier today, “Was I to be in my cell?”

He frowns, a furrow in his nose, “You are not a prisoner.”

“Then why are there armed men following me?” You fire back, quickly.

“Is there any other way to get you to do as I say?” He shoots back, the same taunt as that day in the docks, with Stithulf’s -his- chains around your wrists.

“I don’t think you really want me obedient, my King.” You dare say, and the smile you offer him reminds you of the one you used to sport before, when you felt free and safe. Right before starting the sprint to cross the fast spring on a jump, your hair wild and feet bare, your heart beating fast in equal parts fear and excitement.

When he limps closer to you, you remain in your place and look into his eyes, aware the King can sense your quickened breaths and rapid heart, but hoping he mistakes lust for fear.

A part of you that starved amongst the flowers of Eleusis rejoices in the risk, the thrill of it all.

And when you smile, you draw Ivar’s gaze to the curve of your mouth. And when his tongue runs over his lower lip, you realize you are not the only one whose breath is quickened.

“You will do as I say.” He orders lowly, through gritted teeth even if his eyes are still trained on your lips.

“You will stop treating me like a prisoner,” You offer back, the despair of having nothing to lose emboldening you more than you thought possible. And even if the words feel like poison, you finish, “And I will obey.”

“No,” He admits after a few moments of silence, voice barely a murmur, blue eyes travelling over your face and exposed skin, “I don’t think I want you to.”

“What do you want, then?” You ask, your voice just as hushed.

His eyes settle on yours, always angry and of course determined, but carrying now a hint of the almost-softness, of the hesitation, you believe you saw in those days spent in Aneridge.

He leans closer, voice quiet by your ear, “I want to offer an arrangement.”

“An arrangement.”

“Meet me tomorrow, and every day after that, Priestess,” He says, his voice carrying with authority even if the glint in his eyes almost begs you to defy him again. “Have all your meals with me.”

“Why do you ask this of me?”

“I told you, Priestess, you and I are not done talking,” He says, eyes searching yours, “In exchange, I will…loosen the chains.”

“I thought guests had no chains.”

“My guests do,” He dismisses, making irritation flare within you. Eyes searching yours, he presses, “They will come find you tomorrow, take you to me. You will have your day meal alone with me.”

“Are you ordering me to? Or asking?” You whisper back, pulling back so you can see his face. There’s a twitch of irritation, the very clear sign of gritted teeth, and a flare of something impulsive and that begs for a show of cruelty in his pale eyes; but he seems to hold himself back.

“I’m asking.” The King grits out finally. You allow yourself a small smile of triumph, that feels a little too genuine when you remind yourself who you are dealing with.

“Alright. I shall see you tomorrow then.”

The King smirks, and when he pulls away you recall the phantom feeling of his burning warmth and feel cold, but say nothing.

When the white-haired man closes the door forcefully behind him, you feel the eyes of every woman on you. You push yourself away from the table you were almost sitting on while the King pushed you into it, standing on shaking legs and trying to bring your breathing back to normal.

“That’s a first.” One of the women quips, a tall and blonde woman you notice carries the strut and posture of a warrior.

“A first what?” You ask cautiously.

“A first time that someone survives being that unbearably stupid,” She states, startling a laugh out of one of the others. You allow yourself a small smile, and the woman pats your back with quite a bit of strength. “You ought to be more careful, girl. Why do you test the man so?”

You can offer nothing but a sheepish grimace. She sighs, but there’s light in her eyes.

“At least we know the witch has a Viking side to her. No soft-hearted Greek would look into Ivar the Boneless’ eyes with that kind of anger.” Other quips from her place sorting one of the newest shipments of herbs and spices.

“Anger? Oh, that wasn’t anger, child.” An elder says with a laugh, directing a knowing side-glance to you. You pretend focusing on grinding Yarrow to avoid giving her an answer, although you fear your silence gave her one.

Conversation switches to the strange wares an Ottoman merchant has brought in as one of the elders starts distributing the bowls of food amongst the women, and it feels like being next to the fire on one of the cabins in the Silk Roads, Sieghild at your side guiding your hands to make arrows correctly.

You catch the eyes of the Völva on you while you are supping, and the gifted woman offers you a small nod of recognition and something else, but says nothing. You can still feel her gaze on you throughout the night.

When you go to bed, you catch tendrils of something you cannot quite place making you feel uneasy, but dismiss it and close your eyes hoping sleeps claims you soon.

Somewhere in the middle of the night you awaken with a jolt, the unfamiliar feeling of weight settling in your bed drawing a gasp out of your mouth. You catch a glimpse of blonde curls and blue eyes you know well, even if you don’t trust their intentions fully, and lay back down, looking up at the ceiling.

The faint smell of mint fills your nose as Freydis settles on your side. It feels like a tendril of a voice, the way the smell makes something odd and bitter blossom in your chest; but you cannot place your finger on what it could mean.

“You are a fool,” The girl chastises as she lays on your bed, leaving almost no space between the two of you. You grit your teeth and roll your eyes, but say nothing. She presses, “You should learn to play better, witch.”

This makes you rise from your bed, one of your hands supporting your weight as you sit and the other holding the sheets to your chest as your upper body leans towards the girl.

Playing games kept you from freedom once too many times.

Fooling Narses into believing you loved him broke your own heart, but you always assumed when the war was over and you were -most likely- dead, it wouldn’t matter.

But it did matter, and playing games chained you. To be an Anassa when all you wanted to do was run, to be a betrothed when you wanted to be your own before anyone’s, to be part of a Saxon’s army when you wanted to bleed every Christian for all they were worth.

Maybe playing games is the reason you are here today, a slave to a mad King’s whims and delusions.

“I know how to play, Freydis, I choose not to. One of the last choices I am able to make.” You bite back, the painful words uneasy in your tongue even as you bare your teeth in a snarl.

But the girl does not falter, her hand closing over yours where it rests on the bed, and her eyes certain when they meet yours,

“You have a chance to be what some only dream of, remember that.”

How much does she truly know? You narrow your eyes, wondering who could know of Ivar’s promises and demands other than you and the Gods themselves.

A part of you wants to tell her that if it is your place under Ivar the Boneless’ boot what she wants, she can gladly take it; but no, you don’t think that’s what she wants.

After considering her in silence for a few moments, you gently take your hand out of her grasp.

“I am sorry, but you and I dream of very different things,” You mutter, laying back down on the bed, “Being a voice in a madman’s ear is not what I aim to be.”

“A means to an end, witch.” She reminds you quietly, but you are shaking your head before she is even done speaking.

“Not by my means, I’m afraid.”

____

Your eyes narrow at the food placed before you, with what looks to be blueberries but not quite sprinkled inside the soft and creamy mixture.

“Priestess.” The King calls out, and when you lift your gaze you find him already watching you, something like exasperated curiosity in his pale gaze.

You offer a shrug and return your gaze to your plate, “I don’t know what this is.”

“Food,” He supplies dryly, offering you a downturned mouth as if ti say it’s true when you glare at him. After taking a bite out of what looks like a strange kind of bread, he supplies, “Färskost.”

You still have no idea what that means, but you nod and try the cream that tastes vaguely of cheese, and the berries that are not quite the ones of your home but surely taste like them.

You test the syllables in your tongue as you mix in more berries. A sudden huff of choked laughter startles you and you lift your gaze back to the Viking.

Before saying anything, he takes a drink from his cup, but you see the mocking smile on his lips.

“It wasn’t that bad.” You defend yourself, almost offended even if your lips want to curve into a smile as well.

“Sure.” He promises, boyish smile still on his lips, and you could swear a small chuckle leaves his lips -this time true, honest, instead of mocking or mischievous- when you roll your eyes at him.

“Váll' eis kórakas.” You mutter.

“What does that mean?”

“You are a smart man, you surely know.” You tell him instead, raising your chin with what you know is an annoying display of arrogance.

“Witch, I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” The Prince, the man you recognize as Hvitserk, calls out as he approaches the both of you, easy smile on full lips. Stealing a glance to his brother, he adds, “I have to admit, you look much more alluring adorned in silk rather than chains.”

You recognize the jab at his brother even if you have none to speak of, and it is foolish protectiveness that makes you smile but still reply,

“It takes a smart man to see beauty in either way, they say.”

His surprise is written in the raise of his eyebrows, but his eyes shine with mirth; and where Ivar may have shown anger at your response, he only breathes a laugh.

“Not only beauty, it seems.”

You incline your head as a show of gratitude for the compliment, easy smile still on your lips even if it carries a bit of falsehood to it. You were never one to like pleasantries.

“Did you do as you were told to?” Ivar interrupts, leaning back in his seat and bringing a cup to his lips.

“My scouts say Ubbe will arrive in two weeks.” Hvitserk offers as an answer, but it is apparently not enough for the younger Viking.

“Will you finally cower and sail back to Dublin with him?”

It is with a sigh the other man answers, “I don’t know, Ivar. Clearly Kattegat has nothing I should stay for, so I might as well.”

The King raises his cup over his head, as if gesturing towards his brother, and though there’s nothing nonchalant in the gesture, he makes it appear so.

“And you have my blessing to do so! Why don’t you go ahead and find a Saxon woman to marry, like Sigurd?” His eyes narrow, “Might as well disappoint the Gods, like you disappoint father’s memory.”

“You think father would be proud of you?” The other man accuses, stepping closer.

“At least I’ve achieved something. I have my fame, a fame that will one day be even greater than father’s,” Ivar boasts, squaring his shoulders as his gaze defies Hivtserk’s, “What have you done, other than following others?”

“I’ve kept you from going to war with your own blood. I’ve prevented our brothers from killing you like they wanted to,” The Prince hisses, and at the vitriol in his tone you take your eyes from his enraged face to look at the King, who meets his eyes unwaveringly. “I kept Ubbe from killing you like you almost killed Sigurd.”

“Shut your mouth!”

The way the King’s hand quickly goes to the axe at the table, eyes furious like you have never seen before as they meet his brother’s, you have a feeling he was not supposed to bring that up.

Prince Hvitserk steals a glance to you, maybe gauging your reaction, maybe telling you to run, maybe asking for help. You remain still regardless.

“What will you do with that, Ivar?” Hvitserk dares, motioning to the axe on the table with his head. His eyes are hard but in the way he stands you see he is not certain about how this will unfold.

With a knot of uncertainty and tension in your chest, you keep your eyes jumping between the Prince and the King, waiting with baited breath to see what happens.

You remember when Narses laid his army at your feet, when he agreed to have his men fight the Saracens the way you told him to. You remember that thrill, that thrumming under your skin, that certainty that you held power unlike any other in the palm of your hand.

That was nothing, nothing¸ compared to the feeling of having those two armies crash against one another, the raiders and the defenders, the Saracens and the Attics, the enemies and the allies. Feeling the ground shake under your feet as they advanced, hearing the sound of war, witnessing the clash of the warriors; nothing compared to it, nothing taught you more of power than that first battle.

And in the stretched-thin stillness of the room, as the two brothers face one another, you cannot help but think about how similar it is to the moment the marching armies clash.

But with an irritated huff and leaning his body back onto the chair Ivar ends it before it can even begin. The Prince relaxes his stance as well, grunting something to himself before he takes a seat in the long table.

He doesn’t take his eyes of his brother though, not even as he calls your name.

Without waiting for you to respond, he says, “Whitehair will show you to your rooms. Go, and I’ll call for you later.”

“I have my own room?” You ask before you can stop yourself, and his eyes meet yours. The simmering rage you see in them startles you, but it doesn’t scare you even though you know it should.

“You are not a prisoner, are you?”

“This is not what I asked for.” You tell him lowly, even though you are already standing up from your seat.

“This is all you are getting.” He promises cruelly, and you are dismissed with but a gesture.

____

So that’s it, I hope you liked it. And, as always, I would love to hear what you think.

The food mentioned here it’s a sort of yogurt made in the Viking Age according to this source, made from cheese. The blueberries are bilberries, the Northern European version of the berries, according to this.

And what she says in Greek is a curse that I think is in Aristophanes, meaning “To the crows”, but that can be translated as a way of saying go fuck yourself, and I think it’s beautiful lmao. It has to do with the desecration of the dead bodies by the crows and all that, apparently.

Thank you so much for reading, and I’ll see you Saturday with Chapter 11!! <3

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #vikings #vikings imagine #νοσταλγία masterlist

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planetjisungie · 4 years ago

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pain but make it beautiful- p.js

characters: quidditch player! jisung, hufflepuff! jisung, ravenclaw! reader ft. hufflepuff! jeno, hufflepuff! mark

an; uh this is the first of the nct dream hogwarts au series and mark doesnt have a hogwarts au so i gotta get him into all of them somehow

"come on y/n you have to talk to him at some point, im sick and tired of you staring at him like a lost puppy" jeno drawled, commenting on the way you were currently staring at park jisung, the star player for hufflepuff. he was currently sat on the hufflepuff table- where jeno should be- talking to his own friends. "i am not staring at him i am merely observing him" you replied back with a slight scowl on your face. the tall boy had caught your attention since the time he messed up in Slughorns potions class 3 years ago. the slight infatuation then developed into feelings after you started watching him during matches and practice from the window of the medical room where you were madam Pomfreys assistant, mainly for extra credit. "yeah sure you were. you know if youd just talk to him then maybe youd find out he is always staring at you in potions when you arent looking. youre both so oblivious it pains me" jeno let out an exasperated sigh, slouching in his seat and laying his cheek on the arm resting against the ravenclaw table. "excuse you, hes probably staring at sienna. theres no way he would even notice me" you muttered, discarding your half eaten toast slathered in nutella back onto your plate before standing up. "now, i have to get to the medical room to wait for the quidditch match to begin"

jisung watched as you left the hall, hair slightly blowing behind you along with your robe as you took quick steps. his eyes followed your figure, tuning out the conversation of the rest of his fellow hufflepuff players until you disappeared from his sight. "hey, park, are you listening or just staring at your girlfriend?" his captain elbowed him making him jolt before whipping his head to face him. "huh?" but before the captain could tease him any further, a disheartened and slightly irritated lee jeno flopped down on his seat at the hufflepuff table. "if one of you doesnt fucking confess in a week im grabbing your necks and forcing you to kiss" he seethed, glaring at jisung whos eyes had widened. "no way! shes y/n l/n, princess of the ravenclaws and practically untouchable, im just park jisung who likes to play quidditch" he quickly turned down even the thought of confessing. at his total obliviousness, the whole table groaned, slamming their heads onto the table.

later that week, you were sat in the medical room, jotting down extra notes for your potions and herbology classes. hearing the door to the room creak open, you turn your attention from the words neatly written in your notebook to the entrance. masking your shock and worry with a smile, you stood up and walked towards the captain of the hufflepuff quidditch team who was supporting an ill looking jisung. "you two okay?" you asked, your stare on jisung lingering a little longer before looking towards the captain who had a frown on his face. "jisungs got the flu, conveniently before our match against slytherin next week" he explained, watching as you cleared up a bed for jisung. "oh, im so sorry you must be feeling awful" you said softly to jisung who wanted to say something in return, but his throat was too sore to even swallow. wincing at the painful sounding cough he let out, you nodded towards the captain. "i’ll take care of him mark, dont worry" you sent him a smile to try and ease any nerves he had about this. after all, a match against slytherin with their star player either benched or feeling sick and unfocused throughout the game would not end well. "thank you so much y/n, youre really a god send" mark sent you a final smile before jogging away, leaving you to tend to the poorly boy. you got jisung to lay down, specifically in the bed that was next to the window so he wouldn’t get too bored. not that he could get bored with your pretty face to stare at, that is. "jisung just get some rest, when you wake up i’ll still be here so if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask" you said gently, already filling up a cup of water and placing it on the table next to him. "t-thank you" jisungs deep raspy voice attempted to show how grateful he was, but he was utterly horrified at how weak and feeble he sounded. you couldnt help but feel sorry for the boy as it definitely sounded hoarse and painful. sending him a nod, you went back to your work, where you spent a lot of the time glancing back at the asleep boy across from you.

when jisung had woken up, you were in fact still there. it was apparently the morning, so he had slept all night. seeing the boy sit up in your peripheral, you got up from your work and headed to him. you had actually gotten sleep last night, hoping he didnt wake up before you got back and apparently the gods were on your side that day. "how do you feel?" you asked him, already grabbing the Pepper-Up potion from the cabinet. "a little better. my throat doesnt hurt as bad" his voice wasn’t exactly ill-sounding anymore, but he did sound kind of croaky which was mosh likely from not talking for so long. nodding in response, you handed him the Pepper-Up with a small smile on your face. "well then, if you take this you should be good to go by tomorrow," then you pouted, "but it was nice having some company here rather than just me" you sighed. jisung chuckled, and you seriously felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest. it wouldn’t surprise you if he could hear it to be honest. "i’ll miss being here too. the view is nice and its relaxing to not be surrounded by loud boys" he said, trying to avoid your eyes as eye contact was something he wasnt ready for yet. thinking he meant the view from the window, you turned to look out it with a smile. "it is rather beautiful" you uttered breathily. jisung stared at the side profile of your face, softened and smiling as you looked out onto the forest and mountains. "gorgeous" he quietly agreed.

the rest of the day you had spent just talking with jisung as you wrote even more notes. you and him were both glad that you could finally talk to eachother, first without any of your friends teasing you, and second because the situation kind of forced you together so it would be awkward if you didnt talk. he had found out little things about you that made his heart melt, such as your cat that was called mr snuggles, your pet sugar glider that you kept at home which was called mr cuddles and how you had a love for all animals, leading to your dream of becoming a veterinarian. he had also found out your undying love for small things and how you always looked so cute talking about them, your eyes sparkling. similarly, you had found out about his little sister that he would do anything for, his owl that was just called hoot which you found both adorable and hilarious, and how it was his sister that basically made him start playing quidditch, just wanting to make her proud. you had also found out about how clumsy he was, after immediately tripping on air after getting out of bed to sit closer to your desk, sending you both into a fit of giggles as he had pink dusted on his cheeks. it was safe to say the two of you had become closer during his stay in the infirmary, and when he had to leave, you had immediately missed his presence.

during the days before the slytherin match, you and jisung would greet eachother in the halls, and you switched deskmates so he sat besides you in potions now. his team and jeno couldnt believe their eyes when they saw you two walking to the hall together for dinner after you had had potions last period. so naturally, when you waved and smiled at jisung from the ravenclaw table, and he winked in response, jenos jaw dropped. "since fucking when did you two get close?! my prayers have finally been answered, about bloody time!"he very animatedly said, waving his arms around for exaggeration. "he was like the only person in the infirmary, so he became my friend i guess" you had shrugged to jeno, but you couldnt stop the wide smile pulling at your lips.

when the match had finally arrived, you firmly put away your books and sat in the stands, as madam Pomfrey had told you to watch from outside incase any players would fall. bounding towards the hufflepuff stands, you slid in next to jeno, ignoring the looks you were getting from the other hufflepuffs considering you were literally on the wrong stand. "you come to watch your boyfriend?" jeno smirked, nudging you with his elbow. cupping your hands to your cheeks to hide the bright red glow from the comment, you stamped on his toes harshly, smiling at his screech of pain. "shut up and lets watch" you glared at him before cooling down and removing your palms, turning to face the field as the players all filed onto it. jisung searched the audience for you, finally finding you waving at him like crazy making him grin happily. mark patted the boys shoulder. "lets have a good match so you can show off to your fiancée but make it girlfriend" he joked, jisungs cheeks turning a similar colour to yours previously as he shoved marks back.

the game started, and you grew increasingly worried at the violent plays of the slytherins, though it was to be expected. the hufflepuff team however, had managed to easily come back into play after every brutal shove, or chase, giving them both an equal shot at winning. "well this is an interesting match" jeno lifted a brow, leaning forwards slightly so he could get a better view. "on god if they hurt jisung im putting them all in the infirmary myself" you said, leaning back and looking at the slytherin team, very unimpressed by their dirty plays.

"you won!" you giggled, jisungs own laugh reverberating around you, his chest pressed against yours sending vibrations into your own. grabbing his cheeks, you stared him in the eyes before smashing your lips onto his. the crowd only seemed to cheer louder, jisungs frozen arms slowly wrapping around your waist, tilting his face and kissing back. jeno and the quidditch team let out whistles, reminding you that you were in public. a wave of embarrassment hit you, and you buried your face into jisungs chest, the sound of his rapid heartbeat matching your own.

#nct hogwarts au #park jisung imagines #nct dream imagines #park jisung #park jisung scenarios #nct dream #nct #jisung #jisung park #jisung fluff #nct jisung #jeno #lee jeno #mark #mark lee

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btsslowburnfic · 4 years ago

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Sonata-First Movement

The dear @omgalyssag17 asked: hi i saw you have your requests open and was wondering if you’d be interested in writing a story where yoongi moves into a haunted apartment/house (human!yoongi x ghost!reader pairing). i like giving authors lots of room for creativity so let your imagination flow. And I did. So much so that the story will be told in three parts over the next three weeks XD I LOVED THIS PROMPT SO MUCH Series Summary: Yoongi travels to a lake house to get some work done in peace. While he is there he has several strange encounters that make him question his own sanity. AN: Y/N as a ghost is slightly neurotic at times because she hasn’t really had conversations with people in about ten years. She’s trying so hard to be a good hostess XD Series contains angst, humor (well I think so), and fluff. WK:5kish Day 1

Yoongi parked his car at the end of the gravel driveway. The drive up to the Lakehouse had been pleasantly uneventful. It was starting to get foggy though, so he was glad he had left Seoul when he did. He reached into his front pocket for the set of rental keys. They were neatly labeled: cabin, boathouse, boat.

The wooden front door opened easily although it creaked loudly. He decided to take a look around before bringing in his luggage and equipment. He was on a rare break from work. While the other members had gone traveling or home to spend time with their families, Yoongi had decided to get some work done. But he would do it away from the city. He told the Agency to find him somewhere nice and quiet. And with a piano. That last part proved to be more of a challenge, but they had discovered this remote cabin which had belonged to a pianist. The property had been listed as “for sale” for several years and the family decided instead to rent it out to at least recoup some money.

The air smelled slightly stale so he left the front door open and began to explore the property. It was a small 2 bedroom cottage-style lake house with large windows running along the back of the living room. The sliding glass door led out to a small deck, overlooking the lake. It was beautiful. Or at least it could be. Yoongi looked through the glass and could barely make out the lake that he knew should be there. The layer of fog was rolling in against an already grey sky, causing the horizon between the water and air to blend together into a monochrome greyscape.

There was a small kitchenette in the corner of the main room, and on the opposite side, a piano with a desk sat next to it. Perfect. A fireplace adorned another one of the walls, providing both a heat source and a beautiful focal point.

He continued to walk through the house, discovering the bathroom and two bedrooms. The larger of the two also had large windows and a sliding glass door. Yoongi shook his bangs out his face and stepped out onto the wooden deck. The deck was small and surrounded on most sides by built-in benches. There were also several empty wooden planters. Whoever had lived here must have enjoyed flowers or herbs, he mused to himself. He gazed out towards the lake where he was able to barely make out the boathouse. In addition to the stored motorboat, there was a kayak stacked against the boathouse and a rowboat tethered to the dock. Good, he thought. He doubted he would use the motorboat at all on this trip, so it was nice to have options. The steps down to the dock were made up of several twisty flights of stairs. He decided he would check out the dock tomorrow.

Yoongi went back through the house to get his equipment set up. When he came back, he discovered the front door had shut. Dammit, he thought and sat down with his armful of equipment, squeaking the front door open again. He placed his laptop and speakers down on the desk. Now to get his luggage and food bags. He knew there would be no delivery service out here. Hell, he’d be lucky to get cell service out this far. Which is one of the reasons he had decided to work out in the country. He knew he wouldn’t be distracted by his phone or by the members messaging him. It would truly be a break from everyone and everything. He grabbed his suitcase and used it to prop the door open and then took several trips out to the car to unload the bags of food he had bought on the way up.

Yoongi began to hum to himself while unpacking the food. Cold in the refrigerator, room temperature in the cabinets. He was a very neat person and was very satisfied when all of the groceries had been put in their place. He went back to get his suitcase from its place by the door. Yoongi scratched his head. His suitcase had been by the door, hadn’t it? Maybe he had wheeled it into the kitchen without thinking. He walked back over and looked around quickly, still not seeing it. Ok. Maybe he hadn’t brought it in from the car and just thought he had. He knew in the back of his mind that he had to have brought it in, because he was using it to hold the door open. Maybe it was on the front porch? He turned the corner and saw the suitcase sitting by the front door. He jumped a little bit and shook his head. Maybe he was more sleep deprived than usual and it was making him dumb. “What the hell?” he said out loud. He walked over and firmly grabbed the suitcase as though he was afraid it was going to wander off.

He turned on the light in the master bedroom and put away all of the clothes, storing the suitcase under the bed. Now, he could finally get some work done. After coffee. Coffee was an important step.

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

You sat over at the desk, observing the newest cottage guest. The delightful scent of coffee wafted through the air. There were several things you missed about being alive, and one of them was a nice, hot cup of coffee. Especially out on the back deck, first thing in the morning. You often wondered if you were actually stuck in hell; able to smell coffee and not drink it. You were able to see every person who trespassed in your house, but none of them could see you.

At least it looked like this guy would be a considerate guest. Too often it would be loud families with their ill-behaved children banging on your beloved piano. Sometimes it would be drunk fishermen. At least they could be entertaining. And they were also your favorite to mess with; they were never sure if there was a ghost or if they were drunk. Hilarious. Death had very few benefits but that was one of them.

You watched him pour himself a cup of coffee. Now that you noticed, it was very late to be starting a pot of coffee. He must be a night owl. You got up so he wouldn't sit on you. It always felt so weird when the living touched you; their solid body parts passing through your non-corporeal form. It didn't hurt but it made your body feel like it was being stretched in ways that it shouldn't be able to.

He sat the cup down and started to unpack what looked like headphones, a microphone, and some other things that you knew had to do with recording music. Oooo interesting, you thought. He was a very meticulous person. You had noticed the care he had taken into putting everything in its place even though you could tell he was eager to begin the task at hand. He plugged in the electronics and began to press some buttons. He put on his headphones and began vibin to some beats.

You frowned. You wanted to hear the music too. You reached over and gently flipped the bluetooth switch on his headphones off.

Yoongi stopped and took off his headphones. He looked at them with a concerned expression. That was so strange. He had charged them all last night. It didn’t even occur to him to check the manual power switch; there was no reason to. He frowned and placed the headphones on the desk. He dug the charger out of his bag and crawled down on the floor to plug it in.

You smiled as you watched him try to turn himself tiny. It was pretty cute. He slowly backed out of the space under the desk, and while still on his knees, pressed play. The lakehouse was filled with music. You felt the space in the middle of your body, where you once had a beating heart, relax. You hadn’t heard music in forever. You would occasionally play the piano, but most of the time it just made you too sad.

Yoongi took out his notebook and began flipping through it, trying to find the page he had been working on. You spied over his shoulder, trying to see what his project was. Notes? Lyrics? Ouch. You felt his hand go through your face as he raised his arm to run his fingers through his hair. Ok, ouch wasn’t the right expression, but it had surprised you nonetheless. He continued to fluff his hair several times. It was very fluffy, now that you noticed it. You wanted to touch it. You really tried to not be a creepy ghost. But you hadn’t had visitors in so long. And it looked so soft. You let yourself pet his dark, black hair.

Yoongi froze and looked behind him. His nose scrunched up as he turned his neck and looked above him, searching for the draft that had just blown his hair. Seeing nothing, he continued on with his work.

His hair was soft. You knew it would be. Alright, you decided, enough of being creepy. He seemed nice enough. You traveled over to the living room and laid down on the couch. Being dead was so boring.

Yoongi continued working and drinking coffee for several hours before deciding around 4 am to go to bed. This was a poor decision because there were no curtains in the lake house, and the sun came in at 7 am. He groaned and pulled a sheet over his face.

You laughed as you saw him wrestle with the too small sheet. He would pull it up, his feet would become uncovered. He would pull it down, and a sunbeam would fall directly onto his face. Poor guy. The next time he pulled the blanket up, you gently tucked the comforter over his feet. He didn’t even notice, he just let out a satisfied groaning sound as he rustled around trying to get comfortable. Finally, he was able to fall back to sleep.

Day 2

Yoongi woke up around noon. He scolded himself for not thinking of bringing an eye mask along. He was used to sleeping at strange hours, in a state of permanent jet lag, so he usually remembered to pack it. Oh well. He groggily shufflled to the kitchen and grabbed an iced coffee. The lake was beautiful this morning. The sun was shining and reflecting against the water. He decided to wash up and head down to the dock.

You watched him down the iced coffee like it was a lifeline. Did this guy know that drinking-water also existed? You wondered as you followed him around. You watched him look out over the lake while drinking the coffee. The corners of his mouth upturned as he looked out over the water. With a determined look on his face he went over towards the bathroom leaving you to hang out in the living room. You walked over to the desk area where he had left his stuff out. You decided to look through his notebook and found several pages of lyrics. He was really good, you thought as you flipped through. You took your time reading some of the pages and notes. You also saw some compositions written down as well.

Yoongi walked out of the bathroom wearing a towel and sopping wet hair. Since he was the only one there he hadn’t bothered to take his clothes into the bathroom with him. He walked out into the living room and saw his notebook jump off the desk. That’s weird. He thought as he walked over to pick it up and put it back on the desk. He ran a hand along the back of it to see if it felt extra slippery. No. He did the same to the desk. Weird.

You were trying to NOT be a creepy ghost and yet here was a hot guy wearing a towel in your living room. You looked around, where to go, where to go? You couldn’t go to the master bedroom, that’s where he would go next. You saw him bend over to pick up the notebook. If you had blood left in your body, you are certain it would all be rushing to your face right now. Must leave. You hastily made your way to the guest bedroom, carefully opening the door and stepping inside. You took a few deep breaths out of habit.

Yoongi sat the notebook down on the desk and heard a creaking sound coming from the other side of the cabin. The drafts in here were unbelievable, he thought and he headed to the bedroom to get dressed.

You kept yourself in forced isolation until you heard the sliding door of the living room open up. You peeked out the window and saw him making his way down to the dock. Finally, you thought, as you went back into the living room. Ever since you had heard the music last night you had been wanting to give it a go on the piano. You looked down at the dock to make sure he had made it before you took a seat at the bench and began to play,

Yoongi felt the sun shine down on his dark hair. He usually blow dried it, but between the hot sun and being on vacation, he figured he would let nature take care of it today. He sat down cross legged on the dock, looking out across the Lake. He could see a few other houses lining the perimeter and several patches of trees. The water lightly rippled, splashing gently against the rowboat. He looked over the side of the dock. It was shallow and he could see minnows swimming in the water that had been warmed by the sun. He smiled and took in a deep breath of the fresh air. He took out his pen and began to write.

You couldn’t remember the last time you enjoyed playing the piano. It had been probably about 6 months before you died. If you had to guess. Time is a funny thing. It speeds up as you get older. And once you’re dead, it’s like the blink of an eye. It wasn’t enough time. You sighed sadly. But, playing this music made you happy. It made you so happy that you had lost track of time until you heard the unmistakable sound of the glass door sliding open. You were pretty sure you were able to stop in time. You made a cringe face and turned to the door to see if your guest had noticed.

Yoongi stood extremely still. He had definitely heard the piano playing. Only for a second or two. But the sound was unmistakable. Maybe a mouse was in the dampers. He cleared his throat and walked over to the upright Yamaha. You stayed absolutely still as he reached over you, his face inches away. You didn’t have to hold your breath, you didn’t even breathe anymore, but you found yourself nervously worried about it. He smelled good. Stop being creepy! Yoongi opened the lid quickly, hoping to catch the mouse in action. No mouse. Strange, he thought, and closed the lid. He stepped back and eyed the piano suspiciously. Wait a minute. He looked at the sides and then he opened the lid once more. “Hmm? What’s this?” he reached in and took out a yellow, legal-sized envelope

You had forgotten about that.

He held the large envelope in his hands, inspecting it. He turned it around. There was nothing written on the outside but he could feel the contents inside of it. He bit his lip, unsure of what to do with this. He sat it down on the desk and headed to the kitchen to eat lunch.

You tentatively pressed your fingers against the envelope. You were surprised no one had found it yet. You were certain your family would have quickly sold the house, so you had placed the document somewhere safe. But no one had come to buy the house. Maybe because you had scared them away. The first few years of your haunting you hadn’t been quite as kind of a ghost. Time had mellowed you and allowed you to come to terms with your death. You looked over at the man who was starting to shake ramyeon packets and boil water. You gently tore the corner open and waited a minute to see if his curiosity would get the better of him.

Yoongi walked back over to the desk while he waited for the water to boil. Now that he looked harder he saw that the envelope had been opened ever so slightly. He felt a little odd, but decided to go ahead and open it. He carefully slid the contents out onto the desk. He saw a picture, sheet music, and a letter. He picked up the photo first. It was a picture of a young woman who looked to be about his age, sitting out on the back porch, petting a large yellow dog. She was looking off at the lake smiling and it appeared she hadn’t known someone was taking her picture. Yoongi looked out, holding the photo up in between himself and the window. He matched up the benches and planters perfectly. It was definitely taken here. The next thing he picked up was the sheet music. It was untitled and about 20 bars of music filled the sheet. He placed the music on the piano’s stand. He picked up the letter and began to read.

“I don’t think I’m going to have enough time to finish this composition. I really like it and I would love to hear it completed. I sit down every day and try to but the headaches are getting worse and it’s hard to concentrate on anything for more than a few minutes at a time. I wish I had more time. But I suppose that’s to be expected, isn’t it? I thought there would be more time. I can only hope someone takes Barley and gives him a good home. Dogs don’t know about death right? Animals fear pain, not death. I fear both even though each gets worse and closer every day. As for the piano, I just hope it goes somewhere where it will actually get played by someone who loves it. I’m hoping my family finds this, but if you find yourself reading some random dying girl’s letter, please let my family know I tried to hold on for as long as possible. And I really tried hard to finish this. I just can’t anymore. Thanks for reading this. Whoever you are. Have a great day and remember: life is short. [y/n].”

Yoongi felt tears running down his face as he finished the letter. Jesus. Had this belonged to the girl who lived here before? He looked at the picture of the girl and the dog and flipped it over. “Me and Barley May 2010 BEST DOG EVER.” Yoongi gently placed the letter and photo on the corner of the desk and ran a hand along his chin and then his cheeks, wiping the tears quickly with the back of his hand.

You watched as he cried and felt bad. You had written that letter probably a week before you died. Maybe a month? It was hard to tell. Time passed differently when you were dead. And the last few days, weeks(?) of your life had not been easy on your body or mind. All you remembered was the instant feeling of calm and peace. At first. Until you realized for some reason you were trapped in the lake house. You watched him sit down quietly and look at your composition and put his fingers onto the keys.

He began to play. At first it was so soft you could barely hear it, but as he continued to play it got louder. You remembered the song so well. You were slightly biased, but you thought it was, “Beautiful.” you heard him say as he came to the end of the song. He sat like that for another few seconds and then played it again from the start. He picked up the music sheet and sat it down on the desk. He got up and moved over to the desk chair, taking out his. He started to copy the notes onto his notebook and then started to add notes to it.

Was he going to finish your song? You sat in awe as you watched him play with the chords and rhythm to try and figure out what would work best with what you had already composed. You sat down on the piano bench and watched his face as he concentrated on how to approach the music. The timer went off in the kitchen and Yoongi got up to assemble the noodles. He brought the hot bowl and chopsticks back with him, careful to not sit it on the desk. He read the letter again.

“Well, I’ll try to finish it for you,” he said. “But I don’t know if it will be what you would have picked.

You gave him a sad smile. You couldn’t remember the last time someone had spoken to you. “That’s ok.”

Yoongi looked over towards the piano. He kept feeling something. Something randomly around him. And this time he had sworn he heard something as well. “I need to stop talking to myself, I’m starting to imagine answers.” He said, taking several more bites of noodles. You just laughed. A small tinkling sound. Yoongi got up and went over to the back porch to look for windchimes or something. Having found none, he shook his head and sighed. He quickly finished up his lunch and sat down next to you on the piano bench. He reached over for the sheet music, and then very delicately placed your picture next to it.

“Alright [y/n] let’s finish writing this composition.” he said as he gently placed his fingers on the keys. He played the song again, this time adding a few of the notes he had added. He was satisfied with a few of them but others he scratched out with his pen. He began again and again, trying to work through the bridge. You understood his frustration. This was the part you had gotten stuck on as well. You liked the few notes that he had successfully added. Suddenly, without thinking, you thought of what would sound good next and played a series of notes.

Yoongi sat there not moving. The keys to his left had definitely just played by themselves. And not random keys like a mouse on the dampers. They were notes that matched the song perfectly. What the hell.

You froze. Shit shit shit. You were going to scare this guy off. The only person who had actually spoken to you in a decade. You felt like you wanted to cry. Dammit [y/n] you scolded yourself. Yoongi was afraid to turn to his left. He knew it was silly. There wouldn’t be anything there, other than that feeling he kept getting in the house. He was going to make himself do it though. He very slowly turned his head and looked at you. At least, it seemed like he was looking at you. But from his perspective, he just saw the windows of the lake house. He let out a deep breath. “Here I am, afraid of ghosts.” He said out loud. “Well, if there is a ghost here, thanks. Those notes work well,” he said as he wrote down the keys you had pressed and then played them himself. The two of you stayed like that for about another hour before Yoongi decided he was going to work on another project. You decided to go out on the back porch and give him some privacy.

The rest of the evening Yoongi didn’t feel anymore of that warm buzzing sensation he had felt since his arrival. You had stayed on the back porch until it became dark to give him a break. You were so afraid earlier that you were going to scare him off. Usually you couldn’t wait for the guests to leave because they were annoying, but you wanted him to stay. He was nice and quiet, and cute, and working on your song, and cute. And oh my goodness, you thought listening to yourself. You had a crush on this guy. Ugh. You didn’t even know ghosts could get crushes. You sighed, once again bemoaning the fact that being dead was standing in your way. You didn’t get the chance to date much when you were alive. You went straight from University to writing music up at the lake. You thought your love life could wait until you had established your career more. Just another thing you had been wrong about. You sighed as you re-entered the cottage and saw Yoongi still sitting at his computer jamming away with his headphones on. Did he ever stop working?

Yoongi had worked on several projects that afternoon and was feeling very satisfied with the progress he had made. The earlier piano incident left him feeling a little skittish, especially now that it was dark outside. He wasn’t easily frightened, but as he thought back to the past two days, several incidents were very strange. He didn’t believe in ghosts. He told himself. Over and over again. Probably a little too much for someone to not actually believe in ghosts. He reached over to the piano stand and took the picture off the stand, sitting it down on the desk and running a finger down it.

If Barley was alive, he would be a very old dog by now, Yoongi thought. He wondered if the woman’s parents were the people renting out the lakehouse. He would have to have the Agency contact them and ask about her in a delicate manner so he could give them the documents. Yoongi stood up and stretched his arms over his head. He would usually make some coffee and continue working, but he found himself unusually tired and not particularly wanting to sit in the living room full of wide open windows and wide open spaces. He took his phone and a drink into the bedroom. There. If you’re under the covers, ghosts can’t get you, He found himself thinking. I’m so stupid. There’s no such thing as ghosts. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.” He said out loud, like that made it more real. You just laughed. Yoongi froze. That tinkling sound again. Ok. It was time to pull the sheet over his head and go to bed. Which he did.

You felt bad and resolved that tomorrow you would be quiet, and not touch him, and not have impure thoughts about him. You would try so very hard. But, for a few minutes, you were going to watch him sleep. Just a little. Ghosts are allowed to be a little creepy.

Day 3

Yoongi woke up around 9 in the morning. It was raining outside. He felt his shoulder ache; the joint affected by weather ever since his accident. He groaned. He was hoping to take the rowboat out today but it would have to wait. He stayed in bed for a while, checking his phone even though he knew the reception made it almost useless.

He walked out to the kitchen and started to make the coffee without thinking. Wait a minute. He hadn’t set the coffee and filter out. He knew he hadn’t. And yet when he came out, the carafe, water, filter, and coffee were all laid out in a nice row.

See? You didn’t want to be creepy or scary. You wanted to be helpful. Yoongi let out a deep sigh, trying to fill himself up with bravery. “Whoever is here needs to stop messing with me. My head is fucked up enough without thinking I’m actually going crazy as well.”

Oh. You thought the coffee would make him happy but instead it had made him upset. You pouted. What could you do to make him not afraid? It was difficult being a ghost. You walked over to the piano and decided to play a nice happy song for him. Something not scary at all. You began to play the tune of “You are my Sunshine.” No one could be scared of that song. No one. Except apparently Yoongi was.

“Ahhh….” he let out a tiny scared sound. He looked over at the piano playing by itself and covered his ears and headed for the front door. He opened it and stepped outside into the rain. Shit. Shit. The piano is playing by itself. He thought. Shit. It’s raining. No. It’s pouring. The awning over the front door was very small. He ran over to the car to try and get inside but he had locked it. He scolded himself. This was the country, why the hell did he lock his car? Who was going to take it. Shit. He couldn’t walk anywhere else. He would have to go inside and get the car keys. He walked back to the front door and pulled on the knob. It was locked. SHIT he had also locked the bottom lock out of habit last night and hadn't unlocked it in his haste to get out of the house. Wet, scared Yoongi paused for a moment and laughed. This was ridiculous. The whole situation. He wiped his wet face with his hands and ran his fingers through his soaking wet hair.

You sat there feeling very sad. You had just tried to help. You felt like the two of you really shared a connection through the music, and he had talked to you, and you sat out coffee for him, and played a very cute song. Why was he being such a scaredy cat? And why was he still outside? It was pouring and his car keys were sitting on the fireplace mantle. A minute later you got your answer as you saw a very wet Yoongi at the back door. He was absolutely soaked.

Yoongi arrived at the back porch. Surely he hadn’t locked all of the sliding glass doors. He looked in through the windows and was shocked to see the profile of a girl sitting at the piano. Oh God. There was someone actually in the house. What if the girl wasn’t the only one? What the hell was going on? Yoongi felt his heart beat racing in his ears.

You got up, slightly annoyed by the fact he would rather be in the pouring rain than hang out with you and walked over to the door, opening it ever so slightly. Maybe he wouldn’t notice and think it was the wind. Or maybe he believed in ghosts now, you sighed.

Yoongi watched the woman through the fogged up windows walk over towards him and open the door just a crack. He heard her let out a deep sigh like he was being annoying. He opened the door the rest of the way and slowly walked inside.

“Wow you look even better when you are soaking wet,” you mused from your spot by the fireplace mantle.

Yoongi shook his hair out of his face and looked over at you, “Thanks, but who are you and why are you here….” His eyes widened as he was finally able to see clearly.

Your eyes also grew wider and you looked behind you to make sure he wasn’t speaking to anyone else. You looked back at him, “You can see me?”

Yoongi slowly nodded his head. The woman definitely looked like she could be twins with [y/n] from the photograph. “Of course I can, you’re ogling me from the fireplace.”

#yoongi scenarios #bts fanfic #bts fanfction #yoongi x reader #bts yoongi x reader #yoongi fluff #bts suga x you #suga x reader #suga x you #ghost romance #bts suga #bts yoongi

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gdwessel · 3 years ago

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Summer Struggle in Osaka 2021 Night 1 - 7/22/2021: Ibushi Misses Today, Next Two Nights, Tokyo Dome Main Event In Doubt; Lance Archer Defeats Jon Moxley For IWGP US Title In AEW 7/21/2021; Two Matches Added to Resurgence Card, Ex-Aiden English Joining Commentary For Show

The tour resumed today, with the first night of Summer Struggle in Osaka. Earlier this week it was announced Kota Ibushi would be missing today, tomorrow and Saturday's shows, in the run-up for Wrestle Grand Slam in Tokyo Dome. NJPW states that Ibushi has been diagnosed with aspiration pneumonia, and has tested negative for COVID-19; they go on to say that this is unrelated to the COVID-19 vaccine, so that is not the reason why he has taken ill after all. Shortly before the pandemic, Ibushi had taken ill as well, although at the time it was reported he'd had a Mallory-Weiss tear in his esophagus. Basically Ibushi seems to have some bad luck with illnesses lately. NJPW further states that his status will be determined after Summer Struggle in Nagoya on Saturday, which, hope they have a credible Plan B for the main event of Wrestle Grand Slam if Ibushi is not able to wrestle that day. In the meantime, Tomoaki Honma will be filling Ibushi's spot in those matches the next few days. We wish Ibushi a good recovery from his illness.

Results:

Summer Struggle in Osaka - 7/22/2021, Osaka EDION Arena (NJPWWorld)

El Desperado, Yoshinobu Kanemaru & DOUKI [SZKG] d. Robbie Eagles, SHO & YOH [CHAOS] (Desperado > YOH, Pinche Loco, 12:20)

Hiroshi Tanahashi, Tomohiro Ishii [CHAOS] & YOSHI-HASHI [CHAOS] d. KENTA, EVIL & Yujiro Takahashi [Bullet Club] (Tanahashi > Yujiro, High Fly Flow, 12:39)

Jeff Cobb & Great O-Khan [United Empire] d. Kazuchika Okada & Hirooki Goto [CHAOS] (Cobb > Goto, Tour Of The Islands, 10:06)

Shingo Takagi & BUSHI [Los Ingobernables] d. Tomoaki Honma & Master Wato (Takagi > Wato, Pumping Bomber, 10:30)

SANADA [Los Ingobernables] DRAW Zack Sabre Jr. [SZKG] (Double Pinfall, 24:21)

Taichi [SZKG] d. Tetsuya Naito [Los Ingobernables] (Black Mephisto, 26:41)

Taichi gets a(nother) singles win over Naito, whilst SANADA and ZSJ get a rare double-pin draw result. The pair switch sparring partners tomorrow in that show's feature matches.

Cobb pins Goto, meaning even if Cobb fails to beat Okada on Sunday (likely), we could see the United Empire of O-Khan/Cobb/Henare (once he returns) challenge for the 6-man titles. It’s what I’d do. Ishii attacked both EVIL and Dick Togo once more post-match.

The IWGP US Heavyweight title has changed hands for the first time since Wrestle Kingdon 14 Night 1 on 1/4/2020, and it is back with the previous holder. Lance Archer defeated champion Jon Moxley in their rematch Texas Deathmatch in the main event of last night's special Fyter Fest 2021 edition of AEW Dynamite, after chokeslamming Mox through two tables (in a callback spot to the first match) with barbed wire boards on top of them. Mox was unable to answer a 10-count, therefore by the stipulation of the match, Archer was the winner at 13:24 (Moxley fails his 6th defense; Archer is the 8th champion). Forks were used in this match, Abdullah-stylee. It got a little bloody! This is the first time the title has changed hands in another company, despite previous title matches also held in Ring of Honor in the past. Bullet Club's Hikuleo was shown in the crowd throughout the episode, and was announced to be challenging the winner of this match next week at AEW's special Fight For The Fallen episode from Charlotte, NC. Post-main, Hikuleo climbed into the ring to stare down Archer, and let me tell you, Hikuleo has a good 3 inches on Archer, which is not an easy feat. I wouldn't read anything into Moxley losing the title as far as his involvement with NJPW at the moment, any more than you can say Jay White is jumping to Impact based on Saturday's PPV ending. He is still part of advertising for NJPW Strong, and is shown on the posters for NJPW Resurgence and the Fighting Spirit Unleashed TV tapings in August. The buzz is high for a reunion of Mox and Shota Umino, given that Shooter has returned to active wrestling now as well. If nothing else, this frees up Mox for the reunion at Resurgence. In any event, congratulations to Archer, now a 2-time holder of this title; since there aren't enough titles to go around in AEW, with both Kenny Omega and Miro having very dominant runs with their respective titles, this is a good reward for Archer. Next week's match v. Hikuleo should be interesting.

Speaking of Resurgence, NJoA has announced two additional matches to the card. LA Dojo Young Lion Alex Coughlin and graduate Karl Fredericks will open the show with a singles encounter, part of Coughlin’s Challenge Series. Then, a trios match has been booked that will see NJPW Strong regulars Fred Rosser, Rocky Romero & Wheeler Yuta (someone else who impressed on AEW TV last night) taking on TJP, Clark Connors and Ren Narita.

NJoA also announced the addition of one Matt Morris to the commentary team for this event, joining Strong regulars Kevin Kelly and Alex Koslov. Morris used to be Aiden English in WWE. Hope this works out for him.

The Olympics officially start tomorrow... well, maybe even today by the time I post this in JST. Some events have already started. Many scandals and controversies have already cropped up. I can't even keep up anymore. By and large, the people of Tokyo, and Japan, do not want this, and it's going on anyway. There will be consequences, be it with a resurgence in COVID-19 cases, or politically, with a general election coming. Wrestling will be affected by this, rest assured, and it will most likely not be anything good. I just hope Japan gets through this in, mostly, one piece. The second night of Summer Struggle in Osaka is tomorrow, which will be live on NJPWWorld.

- 7/23/2021, Osaka EDION Arena (NJPWWorld)

Ryusuke Taguchi, Rocky Romero [CHAOS] & Hirooki Goto [CHAOS] v. Taiji Ishimori, El Phantasmo & Jado [Bullet Club]

Hiroshi Tanahashi, Tomohiro Ishii [CHAOS] & Toru Yano [CHAOS] v. KENTA, EVIL & Yujiro Takahashi [Bullet Club]

Kazuchika Okada & YOSHI-HASHI [CHAOS] v. Jeff Cobb & Great O-Khan [United Empire]

Tomoaki Honma & Master Wato v. Shingo Takagi & BUSHI [Los Ingobernables]

SANADA [Los Ingobernables] v. Taichi [SZKG]

Tetsuya Naito [Los Ingobernables] v. Zack Sabre Jr. [SZKG]

Strong Style Story Podcast Episode 76 on PWOM

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iit-s-kitty · 5 years ago

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"My problems with Rise of Skywalker, because fuck being neutral this movie was a crime"

Written by a disappointed Star Wars fan that happens to ship Reylo, and who will most likely ends up rewriting this mess in her fanfiction

The ridiculous fast pace: seriously, this movie feels like the project you forgot to do on holidays and the due date is tomorrow, so you're just doing the "important plot points": The Palpatine plot? Check. The Rey's parents plot? Check.

The lack of closure for the character's storylines: throughout the sequels it was stablished storyline that allowed for the development of different characters. For example, Finn learning that escaping is NOT the way of opposing the First Order, Poe learning to be the leader the Resistance needs, Han coming back in order to face that what became of Ben's was equally his fault as well as Snoke's, and the most important ones being Rey and Ben's journey. Here? All forgotten. Suddenly we erased whatever happened in the last two movies and give everything for granted, because no one gives a fuck about what happened. Poe is the same as he was, Finn is still hung up on Rey and exhibits no personality of it, Rey has no sequels of what happened in Ach-To at the cave or in the Throne Room with Kylo, and speaking of which...

WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED WITH KYLO? We cut the last movie on the biggest cliffhanger for this character: he had killed his master in order to gain more power (ironically surpassing Darth Vader... Only that Kylo did it in order to protect Rey, something he wasn't looking for and ended up wanting her at his side), became the Supreme Leader and witnessed the almost complete wipeout of the Resistance as well as Luke's demise. Yet to him it meant nothing because the only person that managed to connect with him decided to stick to her own path and giving an open door to the redemption arc. The logical step was having him as this ultimate boss they all had to defeat, The Supreme Leader... That would progressively become more and more disenchanted with it. Snoke is gone, his abuser is finally gone but what can he do about it? He still has all this rage, all this pain. Think of Zuko when he finally "regained" his honor by supposedly killing the Avatar, yet he felt it wasn't worth anything because he had betrayed the only person that cared for him, in Kylo's case it would be the "death" of Leia, the lack of closure on his part with Luke, Han's death and of course, Rey turning his back on him. What does RoS do? NOTHING. ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. Sure, Kylo does redeem himself but the way of doing so...

What the hell with Kylo's redemption? Sure, it happened but the execution was awful. If Kylo was to be redeemed it needed to be EARNED. I'll take again Zuko's example: Zuko not only faced remorse that he was lying to the face of everyone and that Azula could rat him out, it all felt empty because all these people had never cared for him, unlike Iroh did— and now Iroh was imprisoned, starving and humiliated in the deepest cell of the Fire Nation because of him. Sure, he regained his honor, but it comes to a point where he himself said it: "I'M MAD AT MYSELF, because I can't tell the difference between right and wrong anymore". Then, he learns of what his grandfather Sozin did to the Avatar, his best friend, and he knows what to do: the only way to truly regain his honor is to right what his family did wrong and help Aang bring balance. He tells Ozai (which funny enough is voiced by Mark himself) a beautiful "The reason you suck" speech and goes out of the palace to help the Gaang and... They don't want him there. They're ready to kill him on the spot because of all Zuko made him went through and Zuko does NOTHING to stop them. He fully accepts the guilt of what he did and shows with actions that he truly means to redeem himself and train Aang. And even then he faces suspicion and prejudice by the whole Gaang at first. Then, on the Sozin's Comet he helps them by defeating Azula with Katara and helping in the search for Aang, and becomes Fire Lord by the end of the series, intending to start a new Era of peace with Aang's help.

What I'm trying to say here is that, if they were trying to redeem Kylo, fine, do it! I know that the fans of the character (which aren't few) and fans of ships like Reylo were rooting for a redemption of Kylo. But if that route was the one to be taken, then Kylo had to, as we say here in my country, "go through a fuck ton of work to do so". He would first need to doubt whether this was the true path for him (something he was already doing), see the true extent of what the First Order was doing, throw a few punches with him and Leia's relationship as well as his relationship with Rey. They needed to work on his reasons to switch to the Light side of the Force in order to do the redemption and yes, we could say they did it with the Reylo, which I'm a fan of. But it was rushed, sloppy, it wasn't earned ffs.

Leia, Han, Luke, and the whole treatment of the original trio in this shtick: I know, I know that Carrie Fisher is dead and everytime I remember it, I kid you not, I cry because she was a wonderful woman that showed me that despite my mental illness I could still do something worthwile with my life, that I could take the pain to do something beautiful with it. And Leia is a wonderful example of a female character. I know that because of Carrie's death they couldn't do a lot with the character— but that is not an excuse then they put a woman on CGI with her face in order to give "closure" to her character, and I'm sorry but if that was closure for Leia then I'm princess Diana. Leia was Kylo's mother, if someone was rooting for Ben to come back then it was her (as well as Rey, but that's something I'll discuss later) and if someone deserved to have a final moment with him, to see him come back, IT WAS HER. Let me explain, as I said before, even the members of the original trio had a journey of their own here: Han's was trying to reach out for a son he didn't always treat right (if not that he outright feared him) and take responsibility as a father; Luke's was coming to terms with what he did, come out of his depression and acknowledge that Ben can indeed come back as well as to take responsibility for his mistakes. Leia's, given her role as a mother figure throughout this trilogy as well as a leader for the rebellion, was learning to accept the help of a new generation and to guide them, as well as trying to reach for her son in order to make him see the true path. If Kylo is Zuko, then Leia is Iroh here (someone should make a fanart of Kylo apologizing to Leia like Zuko did with Iroh btw). But NOPE, her only purpose is to die so that REY has to have compassion for Ben and then let HAN, OF ALL PEOPLE, reach out for Ben. The whole last movies were building for a moment with Kylo and Leia, to have either a confrontation or a reunion and even if they had the means to do so despite Carrie's death, they gave us nothing. Zero. Nada. Leia died being a prop to Rey and not even her arch with the Resistance was closed. What a rip-off!

Why the hell do we have to bring the Emperor back? No, really, fans of Star Wars— why do we have to bring Sheev Palpatine back and WHY did it have to be the way it was handled? You want to him back? Okay, do so, BUT NOT IN A WAY THAT UNDERMINES ANAKIN'S STORY. By bringing Palpatine in a "he was always alive" fashion, not only do we open the door to a fuck ton of plot-holes, but we shit on the entire Original Trilogy and the journey of Anakin Skywalker. He died for nothing, yes, he saved his son— but the Galaxy was still on the clutches of this monster, HIS FAMILY WAS STILL IN DANGER BECAUSE OF HIM. Heck, as much as I think the EU was a mess with overated or downright badly written characters (cofcofMaraJadecofcof) the whole "The Emperor has a clone as a failsafe and thus come back" was a better way to bring him back. You wanted to make Rey the relative of someone important? Make her the Emperor's clone, the future vessel a le Sasuke and Orochimaru— BUT DON'T GIVE ME THIS SHIT.

Also, if Luke knew so well where the Emperor was hidden that he even made a MAP to him, why didn't he grab Leia (who's now an even better Jedi than he was, apparently), went to Exegol and beated the shit out of his old butt? IT WOULD'VE SURELY BEEN MORE BADASS THAN THIS.

Rey is now a damn Mary Sue: coming back to the theater with my friends, we joked that Rey is the maid of your grandfather that ends up being the one is given everything after your grandpa's death.

The last movie, Rey was given the harsh truth as well as us: not only were her parents pieces of shit that never cared about her, thus not coming back— but us, as viewers, were given the truth that there was no mystical lineage of heroes to explain her powers, that she was just... A nobody. She was the underdog, the Foil to Kylo's ascendancy of heroes and villains and all around famous people. Rey had always dreamed that her blood family would come back, that someone else would come and sweep her away from her personal hell— only to learn, from someone like Kylo, that no one was going to do so except for her. And it was a fucking amazing character arc!

But reddit theorist don't care about any of that. SHE CAN'T BE THAT POWERFULL UNLESS SHE IS SOMEONE'S DAUGHTER! And thus, we shit on the last two movies, her character and her development in order of pleasing people that couldn't stand her being the Jedi of the trilogy in first place.

Not only are her parents now tragic heroes that tried to save her (then why LEAVE HER WITH SOMEONE LIKE THAT IN THE FIRST PLACE? 👀), but the worst part is that they try to give us a "the family you make is more important than the one that birthed you" by her taking on the Skywalker name. Despite having her entire relationship with Ben going back to nothing on this movie and only kissing him at the end.

AND EVEN IF SHE TOOK ON HIS NAME, IT WOULD'VE BEEN "REY SOLO". ARE THEY EVEN LOOKING AT WHAT THEY'RE WRITING?

Rey deserved better than to be the fullfilment of dudebro's complaints and reddit theories.

This movie pulls ALL the punches: say whatever you want about The Last Jedi, but that movie had BALLS unlike Rise of Skywalker. C3PO can lose his memories in order to help the Resistance? DON'T WORRY, HE HAS A BACK UP. Chewie might be dead because of Rey, and thus opening the door for interesting character development as well as an emotional moment for us all? FUCK THAT NOISE, HE WAS ON ANOTHER SHIP. And now, Rey is a Palpatine, Ben dies because WHY THE FUCK NOT, and thus we ensure a narrative so paint by the numbers that would leave everyone happy, right?

The whole fucking Sequel Trilogy was about making a new path, taking risks and opening a new age— even if that meant to let go of the past (heck, it is said in TLJ). See it for yourself: TFA has a Stormtrooper deflecting, the death of HAN SOLO, and a woman who is a nobody being more powerful than the grandson of Anakin Skywalker; TLJ almost kills Leia, they tell us that Luke is responsible for Ben going to the Dark Side of the Force because of his paranoia, the Rebellion is left in shambles, Rey learns that her parents were alcoholics and are dead, and Luke sacrifices himself.

"But Leia died—" Leia died because Carrie is dead, Karen. Otherwise I bet you that she would've lived like Lando did.

We're so feminist and woke!... Or are we?: let's see: Rose Tico, because bigoted morons are a big sector of this fandom sadly, almost doesn't appear in this movie. In fact, she doesn't even talk to Finn despite the fact that the last movie build up to them being love interest.

They introduce us to the character of Zorrie, who appears like an old flame of Poe but doesn't stop her to being a person that would put herself above others— even if it means to throw them under the bus. That would make for an interesting character! But nope, she is only there to be an exposition bot for Poe and making him look good.

They introduce us to Jannah, a woc that like Finn, used to be a Stormtrooper and has fled the First Order and went into hiding, alongside people like her because of the sheer fear they have of being found. That would make for a kick ass plot were they regain their fight spi— but no, she's only there to make Finn look special.

This movie (and like many Disney live actions) appears to be "woke" in order to ensure a better box office, but that is— they look the part but don't exactly play the part. They only use this movements in order to further their own sales— they don't care about representation because, with what they did to Rose, they show you that the moment representation stops selling tickets they'll throw it out of the window.

If you agree and have more to say.

#anti tros #Anti ros #anti the rise of skywalker #anti rise of skywalker #anti rey skywalker #anti rey palpatine #Star wars #rey of jakku #reylo #Ben solo #kylo ren #leia organa #This movie was a mess and i can't keep quiet anymore #Anti star wars fandom

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megalony · 5 years ago

Text

Help me, Doctor- Part 3

Here is the latest part of my doctor! Ben Hardy series which I hope everyone is liking so far.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @luvborhap @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @rogahs-drowse @milanosaurus @httpfandxms

Series taglist: @blog-hannahnicole

Summary: (Y/n) is referred to Ben when her other doctors don’t know what’s wrong with her. Ben is one of the best doctors to treat her… but the problem is that he already knows (Y/n) and has slept with her before.

Part 2

Ben Hardy masterlist

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Leaning over the kitchen table, Ben smiled before he pressed his lips to (Y/n)'s, feeling shivers running up and down his spine when she moved her hands to cradle his face as if never wanting to part.

The doctor knew that it was wrong because (Y/n) was still his patient and she was still under his care but he couldn't help it. He felt like he was addicted to (Y/n) and he simply couldn't revert to a platonic, formal relationship when they had never had one in the first place. She was his girlfriend unless they were in the hospital, then it was professional even when Gwilym was around.

Gwilym had told Ben numerous times that this was a bad idea but Ben didn't care. The rules shouldn't dictate that Ben couldn't take someone on as his patient just because he was personal with them. He didn't know (Y/n) well at the time he took her on as his patient and even now he was still professional when he was at work and she was there.

But things were getting hard.

Ben felt horrible that he couldn't find out what was wrong and it had been a month since (Y/n) had the seizure and he was no closer to giving her the answers she was searching for. He was invested in her case and he was doing everything he could to find out what was wrong but there was no answer in sight. Ben had seen hundreds of patients with a variety of illnesses and symptoms and he had treated and diagnosed them all... except (Y/n).

It felt like he was inadequate as her doctor because he wasn't helping her but she knew he was doing everything he could.

God knows (Y/n) had been to the hospital with him over the past month for tests she didn't even know existed but she felt like giving up. If nothing happened soon and her symptoms didn't get worse she was going to tell Ben to give up and just accept that there clearly couldn't be anything wrong with her.

"Why are you up this early?" Ben questioned as he rested his forehead against her own.

Ben was up because he had to get ready for an early start at the hospital today and he was working late tonight as well. But he knew (Y/n) wasn't at work today until later on this afternoon so he thought she would have had laid in this morning. Ben had to be up slightly earlier today as well because he had to head back to his house to get a few things since he had stayed over at (Y/n)'s house last night.

"I panicked, I've got a piece I have to finish for today and I'd only got half of it done. Then I still have another two entries to complete later."

Frowning, Ben kissed her forehead before pulling back. He leaned and took a peek at the computer screen before moving to make a coffee. He knew (Y/n) tended to work on a few different stories at a time since she was a journalist and she had different pieces for different dates. But she never usually panicked about them. He had seen her get ones out of the way very early or even write some on the day and not seem fazed. When she started writing she simply speeded through until it was finished and got someone else to edit just to make sure.

But he did know what it was like to wake up early morning or in the middle of the night and realise he had an assignment to finish in the morning. It was heart-stopping sometimes.

"Are you taking your piece in this afternoon then?" Ben questioned as he turned around and leaned his back against the counter, bringing the rim of his cup to his lips.

(Y/n) knotted one hand in her hair as she tilted her head to look over at Ben. He could see there were hundreds of thoughts rushing around in her head but she seemed more panicked or just relatively more anxious than usual, he had thought she seemed more worried the other day as well but he didn't know how she coped with stress. He had only known her for a few months and they'd only been officially together for one month. He didn't know if she started to panic after being fine for a few months or if she seemed to have these moments a lot.

"I'll send it in, it's my day off today." (Y/n) absentmindedly pointed at the calendar hanging on the back of the kitchen door before she looked back to her computer and started typing a few more words here and there.

"No... babe you're working two til eight today." Ben peered over at the calendar as he shook his head. It was the first day of the month and he could clearly see in the first square it had her time written down. (Y/n) never had the same two days off every week and neither did Ben so they both wrote down their schedules. Ben had jotted down a few of his days off on her calendar so they knew what they were doing each month.

"Ben that's not funny, I'm off today and tomorrow, the tenth and eleventh." (Y/n) glanced her eyes over at Ben but she stopped typing when she noticed how his expression changed.

He was looking at her how he normally did when he was worried about her. It was a look that made her heart skip a beat for different reasons, she loved the kind of emotions she saw in his eyes when he was worried or seemingly protective over her. But it also made her panicked because that look usually appeared when she was ill.

"(Y/n), what day is it?" Ben put his cup down on the counter before he walked over and sat down on the seat next to her at the table. He turned the chair around so he was facing her as he felt his worry levels rising.

"Its... I don't know but it's the tenth. Look, it says the tenth on my phone and on the computer." (Y/n) handed her phone over to Ben and pointed at the computer but she felt her heartbeat increasing when he shook his head. When Ben looked at the two electronic devices, it clearly said it was the first of the month, not the tenth. He didn't know whether to be worried or not about her not knowing what day it was because he knew for both of them the days seemed to mush together but the date was wrong for her.

"It's the first of the month today." Ben spoke softly because he didn't want to upset or overload her mind if something was clearly happening in her head. This was similar to her getting words and phrases written down wrong a few months ago meaning it could be the same symptom arising again.

"Stop it! Just... stop. I'm fine."

(Y/n) shook her head as she pushed herself to her feet, hitting the laptop away from her as she felt herself beginning to shake. Why was he doing this? She had been fine for over a month now. When this happened at work with her messing up her words, it hadn't happened since. The seizure had been the last symptom she had experienced and nothing else had happened, (Y/n) wanted to be able to believe that she was getting better but Ben was creating a new symptom.

"Darlin', you're not okay. You're even mixing up your letters in this piece, I need to take you to hospital." Ben chewed on his lower lip as he looked at the computer screen more closely.

This was different than before because there was no pattern or reason when (Y/n) wrote words that didn't make sense or sentences that were jumbled. This was coherent, Ben could understand what she had typed and it was a good piece, but it was the letters. She was switching letters around, swapping them like she was flipping them around. With the date, she was turning the zero and the one around to make ten without realising which meant this was something in her brain that was trying to make sense of something it already understood.

"No you don't! Ben don't... I'm okay, I've been fine for a month, I'm okay." Tears fell from her lashes as she felt her shoulders trembling and pulling inwards.

Why couldn't she just be okay?

"(Y/n), listen to me, please. Whatever this is, it isn't going away so I have to try and find out what it is-" (Y/n) could think this was disappearing all she wanted but Ben knew it wasn't. He knew that if this continued for much longer with no treatment then there were higher risks that it was going to do serious damage that couldn't be reversed. The longer this disease or whatever it was, got left to its own devices, the worse it was going to be for (Y/n).

She couldn't turn a blind eye to this. (Y/n) had been the persistent one in the beginning when she told Joe and Gwilym that she knew there was something wrong when they didn't think there was. She couldn't give up now.

"You're making this up, you're doing it to hurt me." (Y/n) shook her head and pulled away when Ben tried to reach out for her. He could feel his heart clenching in his chest as she seemed to be thinking that he was trying to hurt her. He didn't know if she was simply getting upset and saying this out of fear or if this was some kind of paranoia that could also be a symptom.

When he didn't know what was wrong, he didn't know what counted as a symptom or not.

(Y/n) doubled over and pressed her face into her hands as she started to cry. She didn't want Ben to make this up, she didn't want him to try and treat her for something she didn't have. She didn't want to be his or anyone else's patient anymore, she just wanted to love him.

Just when (Y/n) was about to turn away from him, she stopped when a splitting pain arised in her head. It was as if someone was poking needles into her head at various places all at once to make her feel pain. She tried to scream but her throat tightened to the point the air in her lungs could only just scrape through.

Her arms wouldn't move, they wouldn't lift up or reach out for something to stabilise her. They would only fall from covering her eyes that wouldn't even open anymore.

Then everything started to shake.

"(Y/n)... (Y/n)!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Mr Hardy?"

Ben turned his head from looking at his patient to look over his shoulder at Alice, the receptionist. He wasn't used to her coming into the office, she usually buzzed the intercom to let him know the next patient was here and ready for their appointment. He saw her when he left the office but she never usually came in. Especially not when Ben was with a patient.

"Yes Alice?" Ben tried to smile but he didn't know what to say or what to do because she looked rather panicked.

His suspicions were confirmed when she glanced to his patient before motioning with her hand for him to come over to her. Clearly whatever she had to say needed to be said in private.

"Excuse me for one moment." He smiled at his patient who was almost done with their appointment anyway. Pushing himself to his feet, Ben headed over to the door and walked out into the corridor with Alice before he closed the door behind him. He didn't know if it was still a private talk considering they were in the corridor where any patient could walk up and down to get to the other two offices here but it would have to do.

"Miss (Y/l/n) is here." Ben didn't know why Alice was suddenly being secretive or looked worried about (Y/n) being here because she didn't know about their relationship.

"Did she say why?" Ben knew for a fact that he hadn't booked any appointments with (Y/n) for this week.

It had been just over a month since (Y/n) had had her seizure and an appearance of what Ben was classing as a new symptom and he tried doing more tests but they came back negative. He tried to see if different parts of her brain weren't working effectively or were overworking but the scans revealed nothing. He tried to test her eyes again and see if there were any problems there but nothing happened.

All Ben knew for sure was that the paranoia (Y/n) seemed to have developed wasn't going away. She was getting anxious about small things that would usually never bother her and he didn't know how to help. But Ben was relieved that (Y/n) wasn't paranoid about him anymore.

She didn't think he was making symptoms up or that he was out to get her and that made it easier for Ben because he would have to back away if she became paranoid over him. Her accepting his help made it that much easier to try and get her the help she needed.

"Um, no, b-but she's making a scene in the waiting room."

Ben folded his arms over his chest as he narrowed his eyes. What did that mean? Making a scene, was she shouting, crying, screaming something about Ben? Was she beginning to get paranoid about him again?

"Excuse me?"

"She's crying and s-she seems very distressed. She says she needs to talk to you right away." Clearly distressed meant something different to Alice than it did to Ben because (Y/n) seemed to be in a bad state for her to worry Alice and clearly worry the other patients in the waiting room.

"Re-schedule another appointment with Miss Clarke, I'll go see to Miss (Y/l/n)." Ben pointed to his office as his eyes told Alice he would need the office in a minute. They both knew he had to take (Y/n) somewhere else, he couldn't calm her down in the waiting room in front of everyone else and he couldn't go into the office if Miss Clarke stayed in there.

Alice went into the office as Ben walked down the small corridor and turned left into the waiting room.

Ben tried to walk over to (Y/n) slowly in case she was going to be apprehensive around him or didn't want people to be around her because she looked like she was very distressed. Tears were streaked down her features, her eyes were frantically looking around as if searching for a threat and she was huddled together like she was trying to fold in on herself like a piece of paper. She had her arms wrapped around her middle as she was trying her best not to cry but she couldn't help it.

"Ben..." (Y/n) sobbed through the word as she reached out for him, desperate for his touch or anything about him to calm her down because the moment she got here she was surrounded by people she didn't trust.

But she trusted Ben.

"Hey sweetheart, I'm here, you're okay." Ben went down on his knees in front of her as he rested his hands on her arms to try and calm her down. He didn't care about being professional right now because there were only three other patients in the waiting room.

None of them would know (Y/n) was a patient, they could just think she was his girlfriend who was in a state and was asking for help and Alice wasn't nearby to hear his words so she wouldn't think anything of it. He had to calm her down somehow and he knew being professional with her and talking like he didn't care wasn't going to calm her down.

"Why don't we go into my office, hm? You can come tell me what's happened." Ben rubbed his hands up and down her arms, surprised by the grip she held when she dug her nails into his biceps as if trying to get his attention. She nodded at the question and made no quarrel when he pushed himself up from his knees and gently pulled her up to her feet. He felt like his heart was going to burst at how horribly she was shaking. It was as if someone had attacked her and she was asking for help.

Ben knew she was asking for help, but he knew it was because of whatever was wrong with her, not because of anyone else.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his chest as he guided her to his office as Alice and Miss Clarke were over at the desk to rearrange another appointment. Once Ben closed the door (Y/n) wrapped her arms around his frame like they were deadlocked around him. She buried her face in his chest as a sob left her lips.

"Sweetheart, what's happened?" Ben pressed his lips to the top of her head as he rested one hand to the back of her head and wrapped his other arm around her waist. He wanted to stand and hold her until she felt better but he also had to know what was wrong in order to help.

"P-please, make it stop." (Y/n) whispered quietly, but her words were pleaded as if she was begging him for her life.

Pulling away as slowly and gently as he could manage, Ben walked (Y/n) over to his desk and sat her down in his chair so he could kneel in front of her. He had to know what was wrong in order to stop it. He already knew that if this was a new symptom then it was to do with her brain but that could be any number of things. The brain helped control everything, it controlled the eyes and how she saw and perceived images, it controlled what she felt and her physical movements. It controlled her breathing, regulating her body and her temperature and everything in between.

If something was wrong with her brain it could be affecting anything at all, it could even affect her speech and her thoughts if it got to the frontal part of her brain.

"It's not stopping... I can still hear them, it's not quiet anymore. Ben, they're whispering so much." When (Y/n) rubbed at her temple like there was a storm inside her head, he started to understand but the more he understood the more he wished he didn't.

She was hearing voices.

"What are they saying?" Ben didn't know how to play this because he didn't know what (Y/n) was thinking or feeling.

He didn't know if she thought they were real or if she knew the voices weren't actually around her but in her head. Sometimes it could be so real for people that it was like the voices were from people standing right next to them. For others, on odd times, they knew that the voices were only background noise in their heads and they understood it wasn't real. (Y/n) could know that the voices weren't going to hurt her or that they weren't bad but it must get irritating to hear words and whispers on repeat without being able to get them to be quiet.

"Bad things... i-it's not safe, they won't stop." (Y/n) buried her face in her hands and pressed her head down to her knees as if trying to shut down would suddenly make the voices stop.

Some of them were so quiet that (Y/n) was beginning to doubt that they were actually there, but the others were whispering so loudly and so close to her ears that it was deafening. It was like they were dancing in her ears or in the back of her head and she could do nothing but listen to them and it hurt. All she wanted was for them to stop and to feel safe because all she could think was that it wasn't safe. They were making her afraid, they were worrying her and she didn't know what to do other than be around Ben. He was safe.

"Alright sweetheart, it's gonna be alright. If you come with me, I'll take you somewhere to make the voices stop and we'll sort this out." All that Ben could do was get (Y/n) admitted into the hospital and get her anti-psychotic medication. This seemed like either a psychotic episode or she was now beginning to experience schizophrenia. Either way, Ben had to admit her into the hospital for her safety and get her on a medication that will make the voices stop or at least calm down whatever storm was happening in her head.

"Y-you'll come with me?"

"I'm not going to leave you, I promise." Ben kissed her head to try and calm her down as she was still shaking like a leaf. He wasn't going to leave her alone and afraid, he was going to try and treat her and make her better.

But giving her medication to stop the voices wasn't going to cure her, it would only reduce or take away one of her many symptoms. Ben didn't know how long it would be before she had another symptom.

How could he treat her if he didn't know the diagnosis?

#ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben x reader #imagine #borhap #joe mazzello #gwilym lee #help me doctor

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demenior · 1 year ago

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Trick or treat!

An excerpt from the next story (Make Bullets Out of You) in the Switch series, that I lost steam on a few chapters into writing it.

I wanted this scene to double down on the feeling of 'just because we're on the same side does not make us friends' and echo the spiking tension/dread of the scene from Jurassic Park where the raptors break into the kitchen since my redesign galra have that air of 'oh shit oh shit oh shit' to them

[art of what the redesign galra roughly look like] [art of ulaz in his blade of marmora armor]

---

There’s a loud shout from outside, and immediately everyone is on their feet. Slavka’s hand goes for the blaster at her belt while Rahjim takes a nervous step back.

A sharp knock on the door, and then, it cracks open.

The soldier looks terrified, “The, uh, the Blade of Marmora are here.”

Slavka groans, and shoves her blaster back into its holster.

“Send them in,” she says.

Shiro knows he’s heard the name ‘Marmora’ before, but he can’t remember who they are. He thinks it might have been in the files the Alliance gave them— and then he forgets how to do anything but panic.

Stepping through the doorway, ducking to keep from knocking his head on the top, comes a long Galra snout. He’s wearing a mask that covers his face and upper jaw, lined with glowing spots that look like eyes. A heavy hood covers his ears and mane, hiding his identity. He’s panting in the humidity, blue tongue lolling out between rows and rows of sharp teeth.

The Galra is massive. Just as big as Sendak, if not bigger. The Paladins shrink away from him, backing to the sides of the room. Shiro finds himself cut off from the others, with only Coran on his side. The Galra fills the doorway, lumbering inside, and stepping out of the way of the door. He comes close enough that Shiro could reach out and touch him.

And just behind the first Galra, comes a second. He’s wearing the same mask and hood, and though he’s broad in the shoulders, he’s built a lot leaner than the first Galra. They both are crouching down, practically sitting to avoid the low ceiling. Their long tails hang out the open door behind them, where Shiro can see curious, and blatantly fearful, soldiers stealing glances in their direction.

Shiro feels Coran’s hand on his wrist. He realizes he’s breathing hard. He hasn’t been in close contact with Galra like this since being captured by Commander Fovzak. He’s scared.

“Kolivan,” Slavka greets. She sounds like he’s an inconvenience. Kolivan could probably bite her in half without trying, and Slavka doesn’t show an inch of fear at being in his presence. Shiro recalls that Slavka once broke her hand punching Fovzak in the face.

The larger Galra reaches up with his clawed hand and touches something just below his ear. His mask buzzes like a hologram, and then appears to dissolve. He pushes his hood back with a shake of his head. His ears pop free, as well as his bushy fur. His fur is thick on his neck, like a mane, and he has a scar over his right eye. In the shorter fur on his face, Shiro’s surprised to see streaks of red. He’s never seen a Galra with that kind of coloring. There's a sheen to the red areas that suggests scar tissue rather than fur.

The other Galra follows suit. He’s much paler in color, and all of his fur is short save for a light-colored crest down his spine. His ears flicker in attention to all of the noise coming from the open door behind him.

“High General,” Kolivan rumbles. His voice sounds like a diesel engine.

“The Blade of Marmora?” Allura asks, “you are the Galra fighting the Empire?”

Kolivan and his partner’s attention goes to Allura. They turn their heads, ears forwards, yellow eyes focused on her. To her credit Allura doesn’t flinch, though Keith and Pidge certainly don’t like it. Both Paladins discreetly reach for their bayards.

“Yes,” Kolivan says, “who are you?”

“The Paladins of Voltron,” Rahjim says.

Both Galra’s eyes go wide and they take in all of the Paladins, and then, as one, they turn their heads and look at Shiro and Coran on the other side of the room.

The second Galra ducks under Kolivan’s chin to get a better look.

“Champion?” he says, shocked.

“Shiro,” Shiro corrects nervously. He doesn’t like being the focus of their cold yellow eyes.

“He’s reformed,” Slavka says, though she sounds like she doesn’t believe it, “and the Black Paladin.”

The second Galra barks a HOO-HA-HA cackle.

#switch the beat series #tomorrow i'll switch the beat series #tomorrow ill switch the beat series #lmao idr how i tagged it #voltron #vld #wip

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serahsanguine · 5 years ago

Text

Vacation Series Pt. 2. Halloween Surprises Ch, 4

This is the second book in a two-part series

Book one. - pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, pt. 5, pt. 6

Book Two. - pt. 1, pt, 2, pt. 3,

All chapters can be found Here on Ao3

This Chapter Rating; NC-17 NSFW

Tagging; @skullsmuldon @baronessblixen @today-in-fic

*********************************

Chapter 4; Day Four - Vanity Fair

Mulder woke up and felt the cold sweat of Scully’s skin as he rolled her over slightly and nuzzled his nose into her strawberry smelling hair. Whispering reassurances over and over again tell her he loved her, that they were safe. She opened her eyes adjusting to the darkness she could tell she had been crying and she clung to Mulder’s body.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, care to tell me about it?”

“I will but not now, I'm going to grab a glass of water.”

“Ok,” he said simply not wanting to push the matter and make it worse.

“I’ll be quick I promise, the fires nearly out and the room is quite chilly” she leaned back over to him her finger gracefully touching his cheek “I’m ok I promise”

He smiled weakly and watched her wander to the bathroom. She switched the light on and grabbed the glass she kept by the sink and ran the water cold before filling it and taking a sip.

It didn’t agree with her and everything she had eaten the day before all came up and into the toilet bowl. Mulder was up in a flash and by her side for support. His hand grabbing her hair to keep it out of her face and his other hand rubbing her back. He helped soothe her as best he good but he felt useless.

5 minutes passed and everything that was coming up was out and now all that was left was her dry heaving into the bowl. She sat on the cool tile floor and Mulder had grabbed a washcloth and ran it under cool water to apply to her head and neck.

“Are you feeling any better?” he asked concerned.

“No, but I think that’s it for now,” she replied solemnly.

“What happened?"

“The bowling alleys hotdog disagreed with me,” she said trying to calm her breathing down and trying no to throw up her stomach acid.

“You did say you didn’t think it tasted right,” he said in confirmation.

She nodded and rung the washcloth out and ran it under the tap before replacing it to her skin. “That'll teach me to listen to your advice and eat junk food.”

“This is not my fault,” he said defensively and looked away at the floor.

She smiled and locked her fingers with his, he looked up into her face and smiled back and realized she was teasing him.

“Nice to see you're making jokes, are you ready to go back to bed?”

“Yes, I think so.”

Scully stood up and went to walk out of the bedroom but Mulder scooped her up under the legs and carried her to bed.

“I can walk you know,” she said laughing.

“I know but I felt chivalrous,” he replied smiling back down at her.

He wrapped the blanket around her skin and she was asleep instantly, it was a little while before he fell back to sleep making sure she had everything from a sick bucket a fresh cup of water. He was worried for her and hoped she was up for tomorrow as he knew she was really looking forward to the vanity fair.

Both Mulder and Scully had been awake for several hours now dealing with some of the preparations for tomorrow's Halloween party.

The Lone Gunman had gone way overboard on the pumpkins, buying 25 of them to be exact, all of them needed to be scooped and cleaned with the inside of the pumpkin put in a bowl to make pies for tomorrow. Mulder and Scully were sat by the kitchen island, Scully’s hair was tied back in a low ponytail keeping the pumpkin from attaching itself to her hair. She was wearing a low cut vest top with a cardigan buttoned up, her jeans covered buy an apron, she was cleaning out her second pumpkin. Mulder was wearing black joggers and a grey tank top also cleaning out his second pumpkin. All of them agreed to do 5 pumpkins each and once cleaned they would get to do a different design on each one.

Mulder watched as Scully was finishing up, he just stared and watched for awhile he knew she was still feeling quite ill from yesterday but was putting on a brave face as they sat trying not to let on. But when you look deeper she was aglow her skin porcelain and freckled but her cheeks were red from the fire and warmth of the house. Loose curled hair framed her beautiful face her eyes downcast at the task at hand. Her nose is small and quaint, her lips pink luscious and kissable but they were covered by the tip of her tongue just darting out from between her lips. He smiled because she didn’t know she did this, and she only did it when she was concentrating he never brought it up in case it made her self conscious and she would stop.

She looked up and caught him staring at her and instantly she blushed it didn’t matter whether they were in a relationship or not whenever he looked at her like that it sent her into little schoolgirl crush mode.

They got through the rest of the pumpkins creating creepy ghosts, ghoulies, monsters and cats, even carving an X into the largest one they had between them.

Mulder placed a tea light in his last pumpkin and held it up next to him, he had carved a face with a large smile into it.

“Scully, You light me up,” he held up the lit pumpkin and then looked at her with a cheeky smile on his face.

She looked at him and smiled and then proceeded to laugh at his awful pun.

“How long have you been holding that one in?”

“Since we started. ”

“You’re incorrigible” she carried on laughing. She managed to calm herself down some minutes later and watched him as he scooped some of the ‘guts’ of the pumpkin into his hand.

“Don’t you dare Mulder.”

She watched as if in slow motion he pulled his hand back and threw the pumpkin insides at her. His evil smirk said everything she needed to know as she picked up some of her insides and threw it back at him.

“Do you really want this to turn this into a food fight, Scully?

“You started it, Mister.”

They threw pumpkin back and forth until the whole kitchen was covered in orange blobs and seeds he had definitely achieved his goal of helping to cheer her up and not think about how awful she felt.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

“Anytime, but we need to get this place cleaned up before the boys get home.”

She looked around at the room and sighed their little bit of fun had caused so much chaos.

“Ok, I will get the mop and you get the broom.”

Mulder followed Scully to the cleaning closet, she grabbed the mop and he grabbed a Halloween broom.

He looked at Scully, witches broom in hand “Stick with me.”

She rolled her eyes and he watched her laugh as she walked back into the kitchen. He put the decorative item down and grabbed the real thing and proceeded to help her clean up the mess they had created.

That Following Night.

Scully was still under the weather and feeling sick but was miles better then she was feeling the night before. She was just putting the finishing touches on her outfit. She wore a red dress that came up just above her knees, black tights and red pumps. Her hair was down and curly around her face, her face with just a small touch of makeup. Her gold cross sitting firmly in the middle of her neck.

She walked out of her bedroom and down the stairs finding Mulder staring at her from his seat in the living room. His face in awe of her beauty.

“Mulder close your jaw, you’re catching flies.”

“I… ugh… Wow”

She blushed profusely. But quickly turned it around back on him. She raked her eyes down on his form, his Jean's were dark and acid washed and they curved his ass perfectly, she remembered the first time he wore them, his ass looked smackable. At least this time she could actually touch him. His attire above the waste consisted of a grey t-shirt paired with a black leather jacket.

“You don’t look so bad yourself Mulder,” now it was Mulder's turn to blush. Scully slipped on her black trench coat and hooked her arm inside Mulders and they walked into town towards the vanity fair.

10 minutes later they arrived, it was beautifully decorated, there were streamers full of ghosts and cobwebs everywhere complete with freaky looking spiders. Chinese lanterns with amazingly drawn mythical creatures hung from above and they had pumpkins of every variety placed all over. What really surprised them both is they even had characters from Mulder’s new favourite movie ‘A Nightmare Before Christmas’ with people dressed up as Oogie Boogie and Jack Skeleton, even children adorned costumes as Lock, Shock and Barrel.

“Mulder, can we go over there first?”

Mulder followed Scully gaze as she pointed towards the shooting stall. He smiled.

“Only if you think you can beat me, Scully.”

“Is that a challenge Mulder?” she said emphasized his name, he simply nodded in return “You’re on” and off they walked towards the shooting stand.

The stands colours were bright orange and yellow, exactly what you would normally find at a funfair. But instead of shooting a family of plastic ducks you were shooting a family of pumpkins.

“You being a hot shot can go first.”

“Thank you,” he was feeling cocky and she could tell she as she watched him line up with the plastic cork gun in hand he shot them hitting ten out of 13 targets.

“Not bad Mulder.”

“Your turn Scully but that is hard to beat.”

“We shall see,” she thought she walked to the stand picking up the loaded cork gun taking the right stance she aimed the gun and fired hitting every pumpkin and not missing one.

“Wow Miss, that was brilliant” Scully beamed a full toothy grin at the stall, “Which large plush would you like?”

“That one please” she pointed at the rather large grey alien hanging from the ceiling.

“Here you go, Miss.”

“Thank you,” she took the large plush toy from the elderly man, said her goodbyes and they left to find another attraction.

They found the candy floss stall and Mulder ordered them both a cone each.

“I have a sugar crush on you,” he said sweetly.

“Oh brother,” as she rolled her eyes and in search for a small bench to eat and talk away from the crowds.

“Here you go, Mulder, this is for you,” she said handing him the grey plush toy.

“I.. Don’t know what to say, Scully. You didn’t have to give me this you won it fair and square.”

“I may have, but It's not that I had to give it to you it, I wanted too. Just say thank you, Scully, and give me a kiss. ”

“Thank you, Scully.”

He leaned forward brushing his lips against hers and the fireworks of passion ignited there, he pulled away but not before she pulled him back again, her tongue probing inside his mouth tasting cotton candy and mulled wine.

“Mmm, You taste good Mulder.”

He pulled away his cheeks red and a boyish grin upon his face.

“How about the House of Horrors next?”

“Is that the one with all the mirrors?” he opened his mouth to reply but she carried on talking not letting him say a word. “Because if it is the answer is definitely no. We have been there and done that, never again.”

“Ok, so that’s out the picture, how about the haunted house?

“Really?” she raised her eyebrow in scepticism.

“Yeah, come on Scully it will be fun.”

“Fine why not.”

They soon finished their cotton candy and went to the haunted house. Stepping inside to complete darkness, Mulder went first in protection. Scully laughed making a comment that plastic does not kill anyone. They walked the corridors as plastic mannequins decorated with fake blood jumped out of nowhere. Vampires, jumping spiders also popped up, Scully could not help but laugh as every time something made Mulder jump he screamed like a girl and then pretended to be all macho and act as if nothing happened. Finally, they got to the end and it was straight on the ghost train which was full of mostly the same stuff but with added fog, mist and neon lights. Scully took the opportunity to snuggle into Mulder's side while they went around the track. He was warm and smelled like Paco Rabanne and her Paris perfume, it was a gentle mix but one that certainly suits them both.

Their evening at the funfair came to an end and it was time to go home. They took a small stroll along the beach watching the moon reflect on the calm ocean. They arrived home and noticed the Lone Gunman had kept the fire going in the living room for them so the house wasn't as brisk as the outside. They took off their coats and both wandered upstairs, Scully slipping her pumps off along the way and depositing the rest of her clothes in the bedroom, she slipped into her cotton full-length pyjamas before sliding in between the sheets. She watched as Mulder unclothed and found an old t-shirt to lay in bed with making sure to grab the book before getting comfortable. They would both forgo their nightly routine, they were much too tired.

With Mulder propped up with pillows behind his back and Scully laying on the side of his body with her face and head in his chest. He began to read.

“On the brink of what was once known as ‘The River Hill’ at the east of Main Street in Williamston, there formerly stood an old hotel building. Owned and operated by the Edward Yellowy family in the early and middle 1800’s, the hotel was frequented by captain and sailors. From barges and ships while they were docked at the Roanoke River wharf just below ‘The River Hill.’

He looked down to find she was still awake her eyes were drooping but she was listening intently.

“Incidentally, one of Edward Yellowlys' sons, Edward C. Yellowly, practised law in Greenville and was one of the principles in what was said to be among the last duels fought in North Carolina. The duel took place at the Virginia-North Carolina state line along the Dismal Swamp canal in October 1947, and Yellowly’s opponent, C.F. Harries, another Greenville lawyer, was killed in the encounter.

“Returning to the old hotel, it had a handsome mahogany stairway and a large balcony covering the entire front. The front veranda was elevated so that the carriages could drive under it. It’s said that a misunderstanding developed between a honeymooning couple staying at the hotel and the young bride leapt off the balcony to her death it was the reason that the place developed a reputation for being ‘Haunted’.”

He stopped and listened to her calm breathing and soft snore he carried on reading to make sure she was completely asleep before putting the book down, that and he hated leaving a story not finished.

“The hotel was finally abandoned, but an ancient piano was left in it. Some of the neighbourhood children in the old days would go into the abandoned structure and play the piano. There were also rumours that musical sounds could be heard in the building when no one was around. Some thought the music was played without human hands, and an examination would show that there was undisturbed dust on the keys of the piano. When this writer was a child, all children were afraid to go into this old hotel or even pass by the place when alone. It was widely known among the children as ‘The Haunted Hotel’.”

Mulder leaned over to his side of the bed and placed the book down softly, Scully was still asleep on his chest and he fell asleep along with her.

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class-wom · 5 years ago

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[This story contains spoilers for the series finale of FX's Legion.]

Noah Hawley's Legion is officially over, and the FX superhero series (which is based on the Marvel Comics X-Men character of the same name) ended in the most Legion way possible: not with a knock-down drag-out battle, but with music, beers, intellectual and emotional discourse, and more than a few changed hearts and minds — not to mention a changed timeline.

Entering the Legion series finale, the stakes were high: David Haller (Dan Stevens) stood at the precipice of changing the past and therefore preventing his own monstrous future. Of course, his ambitions involved some truly monstrous means, including outright killing the Shadow King Amahl Farouk (Navid Negahban), twice over, with an assist from his all-powerful (and world-famous) father Charles Xavier (Harry Lloyd). But instead of slugging it out on the astral plane, Xavier chugs beers with the Farouk who spent decades inhabiting David's body. Given that experience, Farouk is fully aware of the damage done by his time with David, and he genuinely wants to stop it from ever happening.

For his part, David spends most of the finale beating up on the young version of Farouk and subsequently singing Pink Floyd's "Mother" opposite his actual mother Gabrielle (Stephanie Corneliussen). When it comes to actually changing his own future for the better, however, David does very little. Instead, he allows his father to step in and broker a peace deal to change the future with his once sworn enemy. The Shadow King convinces his younger self to avoid battling Xavier, therefore preventing the ensuing decades of pain and suffering for so many people, not the least of whom is David. In the final scene, David and ex-girlfriend Syd Barrett (Rachel Keller) both fade away from existence, as the infant version of David earns a new shot at a better life.

It's a fairly peaceful ending for Legion, which reliably zigs where most series would zag. (See: the final season's sixth episode, which contains a rap battle between two opponents where a fist fight would have normally done the trick.) It's little wonder Hawley's finale didn't break from the series' own past, even as it paved the way for altered futures for surviving cast members such as the Loudermilk siblings Cary (Bill Irwin) and Kerry (Amber Midthunder). Ahead, The Hollywood Reporter speaks about the Legion series finale with Hawley, who ends his Marvel drama with mere months left before FX's Fargo begins production on a fourth season.

How much does the Legion finale fit your original vision of the series' eventual ending?

On a literal basis, the Switch (Lauren Tsai) character didn't really come into being until we sat down to talk about season three, so, a lot of it [changed]. The emphasis on time, and of course time being what gives stories meaning and what gives people regrets, all of that was discovered along the way. But the idea that the story of David and Syd would reach this point, and that David would be on this precipice of is he going to be good or is he going to be bad, and that would have to resolve itself — I think that that was always there in the makeup of it. And obviously the conversation that started about Charles and Gabrielle, and about his parents, and about childhood and raising kids and all that, I think that was really unraveled as I went through, as I realized while I was writing it what the story was really about.

With the finale now out in the wild, what can you say about what you imagined for the totality of Legion, now that you can speak freely about the ending?

I think the original idea was let's take the genre out of it and think about it as a story. And if it works as a great drama, then when you add the genre back into it, it'll only be more exciting because you'll be able to play with all those tools that you don't have in a traditional dramatic story. And as I explored it in those opening weeks of figuring out what the show wanted to be, I was very adamant that if we were going to tell a mental illness story, we were going to tell it. We weren't going to use it as a launching pad into like, "Oh, he's not crazy. It's a superhero show." But the layers of that are what was really interesting. David says it at the end of the first season. He tells Syd that the most dangerous thing about having a mental illness is that your mental illness convinces you that you don't have it, and that if you relax, and you accept it, and you go, "I have these abilities, and this girl loves me, and everything's great," how do you know that that's not just because you've gone off your meds, and you're feeling great about things? It's the insidious nature of the disease: it convinces you you don't have it.

But again, he did accept that he didn't have it, and then, of course, was confronted with the fact that in the end of season two, he both had these abilities and there was something profoundly disturbed about him, and yet he couldn't really face that head on. And so season three became this narcissistic battle against reality for David saying, "No, no, this is my time. These time eaters who are coming to destroy the universe, they can't come because this is my time." The level of "I'm the most important being in the universe" was ... I mean his mother says "If you can go back in time, then stop the Holocaust." And he was like, "No, I was talking about me." It shows you the kind of self involvement that he was working under. The question [from there] becomes, A, how do you keep the audience from turning on him so much that they now are hate-watching the show, and they don't want any kind of resolution for him that's positive; and, B, how do you get any kind of resolution for him that is positive, but not just for him, for everybody?

Where do you feel we land on David in the end, after he gets the reset and gets to live his life again starting as a baby?

We live in a world where this nature versus nurture question is yet to be resolved. And it's probably both. But my sense of the timeline is that Xavier and Gabrielle are going to remember what happened, and so they'll be able to raise David quite deliberately knowing the path that he ended up on, and wanting to avoid that for him. And that may involve for his mother getting some help for herself in order to be a better role model for him, et cetera. So the great thing about it ending on that kind of loop is that [idea of] "press the button and watch again, maybe something different will happen."

There's a powerful moment when Charles tells David: "I wasn't here for you before, let me be your father now." What does that say about the themes and importance of parenting in this story?

Parenting is such a critical part of who people turn out to be and that so much of the damage of not just David but Syd and some of the other characters can be traced directly back to how they grew up, and the fact that so many of them were ostracized or treated as different. It was really rewarding for me in that sixth hour to be able to explore in a sort of allegorical fairy tale way this idea of a second childhood for Syd, and [explore the idea of] what if you grew up differently? What if you grew up with parents who really taught you the right things at the right time, and they taught you what was healthy and what wasn't healthy, and how to make good choices, and who you could help and who you can't help? And all those things that we all struggle with, then hopefully we would grow up and be people who make better choices. I think to see that allegory in this story allows one to look at the end of the story and go, "Well, maybe next time it'll be more like that."

We know David will get a more attentive second chance, but what about the rest? Syd? The Loudermilks? Are Melanie (Jean Smart) and Oliver (Jemaine Clement) still on the Astral Plane together? How much changes based on David's reset?

There's definitely a rabbit hole you can go down, looking at the timeline and what year this was and how old people were. If Oliver was in the astral plane for 21 years, and David is 32 years old? One could go down that road. I'm not going down that road. (Laughs.) I think a lot changes, and then there are things that probably wouldn't change at all, because people are who they are.

In the finale, Charles prepares to do battle against the "present day" Farouk. But this version of the Shadow King surprises him and us with an alternate offer: a truce, conducted over a couple of beers. It's not the all-out telepathic battle you might expect to find in a superhero series finale.

Well, here's the thing about war, which is what the end of this story was set up to be, the kind of epic final battle that we see in all of these stories: defeat is never change. Only change is change, right? So I suppose there's a scenario in which David and Charles were to defeat Farouk, and change the past. But that Farouk, if he survived, we know that he would just be waiting to get his revenge. And the reality is that the only way to change the future is to change people's minds and their hearts. And that's what was more interesting dramatically, and, for some reason, rarer with that diplomacy ultimately is the only way to solve the problem. Unless I'm going to annihilate you, we're going to wake up tomorrow and have the same problems that we had yesterday.

The finale features another Legion hallmark: a music number, this time featuring Dan Stevens as David singing Pink Floyd's "Mother" with, well, his mother. Why that song, and why place it here in the finale?

What I liked about making it a duet with his mother is that the mother in the song, as performed by Pink Floyd, is a sort of very dark and controlling character, and you never sort of think about [that]. But she's also a human being with a point of view, and the reason that she is the way that she is is because she is who she is. And by making it a duet, I felt like you could see how much love there was behind that. That she wasn't this cold and calculating person. She loved him. She was going to check out all his girlfriends for him and make sure no one dirtied him through. At the same time, it allowed us to really think about the hereditary nature of this mental illness that David has, and to go, "Oh, right. Well, yeah, she is a product of her own mentally ill mother, and grandmother, and her Holocaust experience." And it's going to be hard to raise a child with that.

As you walk away from Legion and move onto Fargo season four and other projects, what do you hope to carry with you from this series?

That it's important to play with this material, and to be open to what the show wants to be. And, obviously, you have to use your skills as a storyteller to make sure you're always telling a dramatic and character driven story. But I wouldn't have made any other story the way that I made Legion, and yet that was exactly the right way to make Legion, which was whimsically, and playfully, and exploring the subjective nature of storytelling, and being able to play with the genre. And you can solve a character through genre filmmaking in a way that you just can't do in a traditional drama. And so I always want to approach every story like no one has ever told a story like this before, and go, "Well, what's the best way to tell it?" Not just asking, "What is the story," but asking, "What's the way to tell the story?

#Noah Hawley #Legion #Chapter 27 #Spoilers

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flowerfan2 · 5 years ago

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Something Blue - Bound To Be Together Alternate Ending

McDanno, E, A03. 53k in total; 7k this chapter - Something Blue

Author’s note: Towards the end of season 9 I spent a lot of time thinking about how I might fix or otherwise explain whatever craziness canon was going to give us in the last episode. This story came about as an explanation for a possible Steve and Cath wedding.

It’s sort of an AU alternate ending to the coda series in Bound To Be Together, but can also be read as a stand-alone story. Warning for angst and handwringing, but all in the service of a happy ending.

Thanks to all of you who read and enjoyed this fic, and ranted with me about Season 9. Writing this and getting to know so many other H50 fans has been a wonderful experience.

Summary: Steve and Catherine get married on a typically beautiful day, filled with all the joy such an occasion should bring. Danny doesn’t feel at all joyful about it, however. He feels miserable. Danny agreed to this, but it doesn’t make it any easier.

Something Blue

The Kahala resort is undeniably beautiful. Danny enjoyed it a lot more, however, back when he was watching Grace swim with the dolphins. Standing up as Steve’s best man as Steve marries Catherine really isn’t any fun at all.

After the ceremony, Danny wanders off to the side, champagne glass in hand. The happy couple has chosen to bypass many of the classic wedding traditions, so fortunately Danny doesn’t have to give a formal toast, or sit through a first dance, or really do anything at all except stand around and keep a smile pasted on his face.

Danny declines a glass of champagne from a festively dressed server. He feels vaguely ill, overheated in his rented tux. Adding alcohol to the mix doesn’t seem like a good idea. Even the smell of the passed hors d'oeuvres is making him queasy.

He chats mindlessly with a guest who comes by and gushes about how beautiful the bride is, and how she had no idea Steve was even engaged. Danny doesn’t know her name – someone who works with Noelani, he thinks – but he can’t get up the energy to care. Eventually the guest moves away, and Danny risks a quick glance at his watch.

“Thinking of leaving already, boss?” Tani asks softly, coming to stand next to him. She looks lovely in her gown, a dark green which contrasts beautifully with her hair. “You okay?”

Danny struggles to focus on her words, and find some kind of appropriately convincing response, but he doesn’t come up with much. “Sure, I’m fine.”

Tani tilts her head at him. No point in feigning cheer with her, her bullshit meter is way too fine-tuned for that.

“I did not see this coming.” Tani slides in front of him, narrowing her eyes. “I’m guessing you didn’t either?”

Danny looks away. “Steve was gonna ask her to marry him, a few years ago. She told him later she would have said yes.” He shrugs. “Guess it was just a matter of time.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Just don’t, okay?” Danny can’t argue about this right now. Not with the DJ playing dance tunes and Catherine wearing a freakin’ full-on lace wedding dress and Steve’s ring on her finger.

“Sorry,” Tani says. “Really.” She puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezing briefly, her eyes searching his. “Wanna dance?”

Danny sees Grace coming towards them, looking ridiculously grown up and beautiful, but with the same look of concern on her face as Tani has on hers. Rude or not, he’s got to get out of here. He can’t face his little girl right now.

“Tani, do me a favor – dance with Grace instead.”

Tani nods, and turns to intercept his daughter. Danny strides away, across the courtyard and through the hotel. He almost manages to get away clean, but he’s outside waiting for an Uber when he hears his name being called.

“Daniel? Can we talk for a minute?”

It’s Rachel, of course. Danny wonders how many people saw her running after him as he made his escape. How many believed he and Rachel were an item again, when they arrived together, Grace and Charlie in tow.

“I’m not feeling well, Rach. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

She gives him a pained look. “I know this is hard for you, but it is what we all agreed on.” Her accent gets stronger when she’s upset, and from the sound of it, she hasn’t enjoyed the afternoon’s charade much either. “Are you having second thoughts?”

Danny huffs out a bitter laugh. “Like you said, I agreed to this. Guess the joke’s on me.”

*****

Danny kicks his feet up on top of his carry-on and leans back in the uncomfortable plastic seat. It’s late, and LAX is quiet. He’s got almost three more hours before he needs to get in line to board his connecting flight to Boston.

He parted ways with Rachel earlier, after he walked her to her gate. She’s got a lot more flight time ahead of her, on her way to London for few weeks of vacation. The kids are joining her but traveling separately, all to enhance the optics of Rachel and Danny going off together for a long-awaited tryst.

Danny has just managed to doze off when his carry-on is yanked out from under his feet. He jumps up, instantly awake and ready to dash after the culprit, and sees Steve, carry-on bag in hand.

“You’re just asking for that to get stolen,” Steve says. His face seems to be undecided as to whether it wants to smile or apologize. There’s been a lot of that lately.

Danny has half a mind to slug his partner, but instead he finds himself moving in close. Steve’s arms come around him, folding him in tight, and Danny practically goes weak in the knees. God, he’s a sucker. But it feels like it’s been ages since he’s been here, since he and Steve last touched with any motive other than keeping up platonic appearances.

It’s been almost a week since Steve got married.

They finally board their flight. They’re not seated together, of course, that would have been too easy. Steve has managed to snag himself an aisle seat, and Danny’s got a window, several rows behind him and on the other side of the plane. Once Danny sits down, he can’t see Steve anymore, although he hears his voice as he politely helps another passenger hoist their bag up into the overhead compartment.

The kid next to Danny is restless, moving back and forth, constantly leaning down to rummage through the backpack he’s shoved under the seat in front of him. He seems to be traveling alone, busy on his phone, not making conversation with the woman seated on the aisle on his other side. Danny makes him out to be in his twenties. He’s got his music turned up loud enough that Danny can hear it through his earbuds, which is supremely annoying.

Danny tries to sleep, wishing that the idiot next to him would settle down. Finally the boy gets up to stretch his legs or storm the cockpit and Danny slides into a doze.

He rouses to the feel of something warm being laid over him and squints open an eye. Steve is in the seat next to him, and Steve’s sweatshirt is draped over Danny’s torso.

“You looked cold.” Steve’s face is blank, which generally means he’s concerned, and trying not to show it.

Danny lifts the arm between the seats out of the way and shifts, leaning his head on Steve’s shoulder. It’s a lot more comfortable than the cold plastic of the airplane window. He wonders briefly how Steve got the kid to switch seats with him, then realizes Steve traded his aisle seat for a squished middle one. Next to Danny.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Steve says softly.

They’re both beyond tired by the time they land in Boston. They make their way to the baggage claim in silence, taking turns watching for their bags and using the restroom. Danny avoids the mirror, not wanting to look too closely at the bags under his eyes. It makes him feel a little better that Steve looks beat too.

They hadn’t bothered reserving a rental car, or making any hotel arrangements. This wasn’t the carefully planned, eagerly anticipated trip that Danny once imagined they’d take together.

Steve is standing with their bags when Danny gets out of the bathroom, and they lug them on to a shuttle bus that goes to the airport Hilton. Fortunately there are rooms available. Danny wants to make a joke about how many beds they need, he thinks there’s a rom-com moment in there somewhere, but he’s just too tired.

Their room is sterile and entirely uninteresting but it’s got a bed and that’s all Danny cares about. Steve mutters something about showering but Danny just strips down to his boxers and passes out.

Sometime not much later he wakes up and sees Steve sitting on the edge of the other bed, looking lost, and his heart breaks a little. “Hey, come here.” Danny holds up the edge of the sheet, and Steve lurches over, scrambling under the covers as if he’s worried that if he doesn’t move quickly enough Danny will change his mind.

Steve’s warm and damp from his shower, and his hair smells like shampoo. Danny bundles him close and falls asleep with Steve’s arm heavy over his chest, his knees pressed up against Danny’s thigh. It’s the most comfortable Danny’s been in weeks.

Danny’s sense of time is all messed up, but they manage to sleep and doze and sleep again until it’s more or less morning. Danny showers and shaves and then goes downstairs to see what the rental car options are while Steve takes his turn in the bathroom.

Finally, after another shuttle bus and a relatively short wait at the rental car counter, they’re in their car and on their way. Steve insists on getting a Jeep. “There are mountains in New Hampshire, Danny,” he explains. Danny thinks that Steve has never been to Colorado, where he might actually see some real mountains, but that’s a trip for another day.

They drive sluggishly through Boston rush hour traffic, which doesn’t let up for over an hour. Steve mutters in annoyance the whole time, and Danny wants to pat himself on the back for not saying “I told you so” about how the Honolulu traffic everyone complains about back home is nothing compared to East Coast traffic.

Danny can see the U.S.S. Constitution and the Bunker Hill Monument as they crawl along Route 93. He thinks that Steve would enjoy touring the city, checking out the Navy Yard and the museum, if they were here for that. Steve’s never been here before. It’s one of the reasons they picked New England for this – the landscape bears little resemblance to anywhere they’ve been together. No beaches and lush tropical greens, no desert, no Montana plains. Someplace new.

By the time they cross over into New Hampshire, Danny’s stomach is growling. They pull off the highway and find a diner, where they order giant plates of eggs and pancakes. It’s not nearly as good as what they usually get at their favorite Honolulu breakfast place. And there’s no coconut syrup.

They’re about to pay the bill when Steve gets a look on his face (it’s what Danny once called the constipated face, but he’s since decided that’s too kind). “I know things have been rough lately-”

“Not now.” Danny cuts him off.

Steve looks momentarily startled, then nods. “Okay.” And who says Steve hasn’t learned anything over the years? At least he’s figured out that prompting Danny into yelling – or crying, he’s not sure which is more likely – in the middle of a sticky diner in Londonderry isn’t the best idea.

They turn the radio on when they get back in the car, and Danny fiddles with the dial, trying to find something entertaining enough but mostly devoid of meaning. It’s hard to avoid love songs, though, or breakup songs. Luckily there aren’t many “you married your ex-girlfriend and pretended we didn’t exist in front of all our friends and family” songs in the top 40 these days.

When they get close to the town where they’ve reserved an airbnb they stop at a grocery store. Danny doesn’t tease Steve when he fills the cart with enough steak and hamburger to feed the team for a week, just makes sure they buy charcoal, too. And ice cream. The mood he’s in, he needs lots of ice cream.

They drive down a long, narrow dirt road to get to the house. The place isn’t much to look at from the back, but when they go inside there are windows stretching up two stories with a stunning view of a sparkling lake. The first floor has a kitchen open to a living room with two comfortable couches and a dark leather armchair, and a dining table off to the side. Upstairs is a landing that looks out over the living room, and past that are two bedrooms and a bathroom. Nothing fancy to take away from the beauty of what’s outside, but all very welcoming in woodsy shades of green and brown.

Danny opens the sliding doors to the deck, taking in the promised grill (which is, of course, gas, no need to have bought all that charcoal). He imagines coming out here early in the morning, drinking his coffee while the sun comes up over the lake.

There’s a small yard with a canoe pulled up out of the water. An aluminum dock stretches out away from the shore, with a speedboat tied securely to the side. Nice toys.

Steve hadn’t let him see any of the rental details, including the price. Said it was his treat. Danny had wondered if it was unfair, at the time, but he no longer has a problem with it. It’s a little petty, but Danny hopes it’s even more expensive than he guessed.

He goes back inside to help unpack the groceries, and sees Steve with his cell phone to his ear. “It’s Cath,” Steve explains. Danny wants to snatch Steve’s phone and hurl it across the room, but he refrains. Who knows, maybe Steve and Cath are having a critical conversation about their new wedding china.

Needing to put a little space between himself and whatever is so important that Steve still needs to be talking to Catherine, Danny goes out onto the deck again, and then down to the yard. He walks to the end of the dock and sits down, taking off his shoes so he can put his feet in the water.

The lake is cold and dark. Nothing like the warm, clear turquoise of the Hawaiian ocean. Danny takes a deep breath of the pine-scented air, and, remarkably, misses the salt smell of Steve’s beach. It figures that he’d get attached to that damn place.

At least Catherine hadn’t insisted on getting married at Steve’s house. Danny didn’t think he would have been able to go through with it, if she had. And despite his current state of misery, he knows there were good reasons to go through with it.

When Catherine called a few weeks ago with a lead on one of the world’s most wanted terrorists, Danny was more than willing to help her out. But then she revealed that she wouldn’t be able to get close to this guy unless she had the status of a married woman – and that being married to a particular former Navy SEAL would entice their target into thinking he could get something truly valuable from Cath. Danny had thought for sure that Steve would refuse.

Obviously, he didn’t.

To be fair, Catherine didn’t know – still doesn’t know – the true nature of Steve and Danny’s relationship. And although Danny is pretty sure that Five-0 suspects, he and Steve have never come out and told them, so they thought that the team would buy it.

And they did, as far as he can tell. It hurts, frankly, how easily they bought it. Despite everything their friends have seen between him and Steve, when Catherine showed up, everyone accepted that she was Steve’s soulmate, some magical creature who could waltz back into his life and be automatically adored. Sure, the wedding was put together quickly, but hey, look at those lovebirds finally getting their act together, how wonderful for them, let’s all help throw them a party to celebrate…

It makes Danny ache.

Only Rachel was let in on the secret, so she could help with their cover. It made sense - he and Rachel have been getting along well lately. Even Steve worried that they might get back together. So in the week before the wedding they played up the Rachel and Danny angle, Danny dropping her name into conversation more frequently and making sure everyone heard about a successful romantic dinner at Rachel’s favorite Honolulu hot spot.

Danny drew the line at a double date with Steve and Catherine, however. He had to retain some measure of dignity.

The pièce de résistance was Steve and Danny scheduling their honeymoon and vacation with their respective significant others at the same time, to give the rest of Five-0 a chance to really take charge of the team, fly without a net, etc. etc. Danny owes Steve $50 for that one, he’s still not sure how Steve got Tani to think it was her idea.

In theory, in the time that they are away, Cath will accomplish her mission, and the farce can be revealed. No harm no foul, life goes on.

Except Danny feels so goddamn awful, he’s forced to rethink the whole “no foul” business.

Danny pulls himself out of his thoughts as the dock vibrates with Steve’s footsteps.

“Mind if I join you?” Steve speaks in the same half-casual, half-tentative tone he’s been using for the past week or so.

“Sure.”

Steve sits down next to him, dangling his bare feet in the cool water next to Danny’s. Danny wonders how things would be different if this were another kind of trip - if Steve would be splashing him, poking him, shoving him off the dock. Following him in with a sleek dive, or a raucous cannonball. Wrapping his arms around Danny in the water, dunking him under and kissing him senseless when he came up.

“I really am sorry,” Steve says. Some kind of bird hoots in the distance, as if for punctuation.

“Don’t apologize,” Danny responds. He’s been over and over this in his head, and it’s not Steve’s fault. “I agreed to it.”

“But I’m still sorry. I hurt you. You can’t tell me I didn’t hurt you.”

There it is, then. The truth of it.

“Yeah,” Danny says softly. “You did.” He leans his head on his hands, elbows on his knees. “Or, really, the situation hurt. It wasn’t you.”

“That’s bullshit. Situations don’t just happen.”

“That’s remarkably perceptive of you,” Danny snaps, more sharply than he intended. He lets out a long breath, picking up his head to stare out over the lake. There’s a tiny island not too far away, trees sticking up haphazardly all over it, like Steve’s hair first thing in the morning.

“I should never have said yes to it,” Steve continues.

“We should never have said yes to it. But we did, and here we are.”

“And here we are,” Steve repeats quietly.

More long minutes go by. The goose or whatever it is hoots some more. Danny flicks a gnat away from his face, wishes he was wearing his sunglasses.

“I’ve gotta ask you something, Danny.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to fix this?”

The question takes him by surprise. “What?”

Steve looks at him sadly. “Did we screw it up too much, or do you want to try to fix it?”

Danny hears roaring in his ears. “Did I not just fly halfway across the planet on some lame-ass excuse just to do that very thing? What do you think we’re doing here? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Then why won’t you talk to me?”

Danny draws in a breath to yell some more, only no words come out. He shakes his head. “This is the weirdest conversation.”

Steve nods. “Kind of a role reversal, I get it. But Danny, to be clear, I do want to fix it. Us. Just so you know.”

Despite the fact that this should be obvious, it’s still good to hear. Danny feels himself relax a little bit more. “I figured as much, with all the eyelash fluttering.”

Steve snorts. “I do not flutter my eyelashes.”

“You totally do.”

Steve scoots a little closer to Danny, leans up against him and rests his head on his shoulder. Danny leans into him in response. He can’t help it, no matter how upset he is, his body wants to be close to Steve.

“Listen,” Steve says calmly. “I’m going to go back up to the house grill some steaks, put some beer on ice. We’re going to have a nice meal, watch some tv, and crash early. Sound good?”

Danny nods. “Yeah.”

“But tomorrow, we’re putting on our big boy pants and facing the music. No more moping. Deal?”

Danny wants to be annoyed – feelings don’t work that way – but it’s actually a relief to think there’s an end to this misery. Maybe super-SEAL Steve can just make it so. “Yeah. Deal.”

Danny plays around with the television while Steve grills, and puts on a documentary about the making of Game of Thrones. They eat sitting on the couches, beers on the coffee table, and argue about whether or not the writers treated Dany the way she deserved, and whether Bran could be a good ruler. Their banter almost feels normal.

After dinner they half-heartedly watch a few episodes of a cooking show, and then Danny cleans up while Steve goes upstairs with their luggage. Steve’s coming out of the shower by the time Danny goes upstairs, and he goes in to take his turn. The bathroom has a skylight in its slanted ceiling, but it’s dark now, and there’s nothing to see.

Steve’s in bed when Danny comes out, sitting up with his tablet on his lap. The bed is a queen, with a green and brown patchwork kind of quilt that Steve has pushed back. Steve’s wearing sweat pants and a worn Navy t-shirt, and looks about as non-threatening as a six foot tall guy in your bed can be.

Steve has unpacked their things into neat little piles in the drawers, and Danny quickly changes into his own sleep pants and t-shirt, trying not to feel self-conscious as he drops his towel and pulls on his clothes. It’s ridiculous, given how many times he’s been proudly naked in front of this man, but things feel different now.

There’s a rift between them, and Danny can’t seem to shake it. He thinks back to Steve’s question on the dock - do you want to fix this? Of course he does. He doesn’t understand what his problem is.

Steve reaches towards the light on the night table. “Do you want to go to sleep? Or read for a while?”

“Nah, I’m tired.”

Steve nods and turns off the light as Danny climbs into bed. It’s hard lying there without touching Steve, but Danny leaves a little strip of space anyway. Steve moves, and without conscious thought, Danny flinches.

There’s a long, awkward moment.

“I’m not going to do anything you don’t wanna do, Danny. But you acting like I might… it kinda stings.”

And doesn’t that pack a punch. “Fuck, Steve, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, I’m just…” He doesn’t even know what to say, so he moves in close to Steve and wraps his arms around him.

“I miss you,” Danny says, his face pressed against Steve’s neck, “and I’m mad at you, and I want you, and at the same time I feel sick about the whole thing. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t know what to do.”

“I love you, Danny,” Steve says softly. “But I can’t make you forgive me if you don’t want to.”

“You think I don’t want to?”

Steve shrugs. “What do I know? It seems like it.”

“I’ll figure it out, Steve. I promise.” Danny lifts himself up on an elbow. He can’t really see Steve’s face, but he cups his cheek, and leans in for a kiss. Steve returns the kiss quickly, letting out a little sound of surprise.

They exchange gentle kisses for a few minutes, Steve lightly holding the back of Danny’s neck, then Danny pulls away and settles in his usual spot on Steve’s chest, cheek against the soft fabric of his t-shirt. Steve breathes heavily for a moment, rubbing circles on Danny’s back, and then presses a kiss to his hair.

“We’re gonna be okay, Danno,” Steve says, more confidence in his voice than Danny has heard in a while. “We’ll both figure it out. It’s gonna be okay.”

*****

Danny is awakened in the morning by the sound of his vibrating phone sliding off the night table and hitting the hardwood floor. He scrambles to reach it and hits answer when he sees that it’s Grace calling.

“Danno, you lied to me.”

Danny flops over on his back, glancing at the clock. Seven a.m., which means it’s noon in London. He wonders if Grace thought she was being considerate by waiting until seven to call him.

“Grace, it’s awfully early for this.”

“I think it’s kind of late, actually.”

Steve has clued into what’s happening by now, and has slid his head over right next to Danny’s so he can hear both sides of the conversation.

“What exactly are you mad about?” Danny doesn’t want to give away more than he needs to – maybe Grace is just peeved that Danny isn’t in London with them.

“The wedding, obviously. How could you not tell me what’s really going on?”

Danny sighs. “Because as mature and grown-up as you are, you actually aren’t eligible to be read into this op.”

“You can tell me. You told Mom.”

“I had to, monkey. How did you find out, anyway? Your mom’s a pretty decent liar, I thought she’d be able to stick to the story for at least a few more days.”

Steve snorts next to him, apparently in agreement about Rachel’s skills at deception.

“It was you, you gave it away.”

“I did not. I never said a thing.”

“Your face did,” Grace retorts. “You were so fake and annoying before the wedding, and during the ceremony you looked like you were going to hurl. You had me worried for Uncle Steve.”

“For Steve?”

“Yeah, I figured maybe he got cancer from the radiation, and he had to marry Catherine for the insurance, but Mom says that’s not it.”

Steve is shaking behind him, muffling his laughter into Danny’s shoulder. Danny swats him with his free hand and tries to focus on Grace.

“Your mother is right, Steve is fine, he thankfully does not have cancer or any other similar illness of which I am aware. And why would he need insurance from Catherine?”

“I don’t know, it’s a thing people get married for, how should I know? Mom always said your insurance was crappy, that’s why she tried to keep Charlie on Stan’s.”

The conversation is veering into territory Danny has no intention of exploring. “For the record, my health insurance is just fine, and so is Steve’s.” He takes a deep breath. “Grace, I really can’t discuss this right now. But Steve and I are fine. Hopefully I can tell you more in a few weeks, okay?”

“That’s not fair.”

“Can I talk to her?” Steve asks under his breath, pointing to the phone. Danny nods and hands it over.

“Grace? It’s Steve.” Steve rolls over and sits up on the edge of the bed, then gets up and walks out of the room with the phone. Danny is tempted to follow him, but then he decides he’ll just let Steve work his magic. Grace is much more likely to be satisfied with whatever Steve tells her. He tries not to take it too personally.

A few minutes later Steve returns and hands Danny the phone. He says a quick goodbye to Grace, who apparently needs to get ready to go out for lunch with her grandparents anyway, and hangs up.

“What did you say to her?”

Steve sits down on the edge of the bed, looking intently at Danny. “I told her that I love her and Charlie, and you, very much, and I would never do anything to hurt any of you. That you are the most important person in my life, and that nothing was happening that you and I didn’t plan together. I asked her if she could trust me on that, and wait to hear the rest of it for a few more weeks, and she said yes.”

Danny takes a moment to absorb this. “You told her that I was the most important person in your life?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Come here.” Danny pulls Steve against him, hugging him tight, and Steve squeezes him right back. “I love you, you know that, right?”

Steve nods against his shoulder.

“I do, Steve. I love you like crazy.”

They stay that way for a few minutes, and then Steve pulls away. “Okay if I go for a swim?”

Danny scans Steve’s face, but he can’t find any reason to say no, despite the fact that he’d rather keep Steve close. “Sure.”

While Steve’s gone Danny takes a quick shower, pulls on jeans and a sweatshirt, and heads downstairs to make coffee. There’s a thin layer of fog over the water, and he can’t see Steve. It’s not as if Steve can’t take care of himself in a lake that doesn’t even have any sharks in it, but he’ll feel better when he’s back.

Danny takes two cups of coffee and a towel out to the deck and sits at the table, letting his thoughts wander. He breathes easier when he spots Steve heading back towards the dock, his powerful strokes making ripples as he goes.

Watching Steve pull himself up on to the dock and walk towards the shore, water streaming down his body, is a view Danny will never get tired of.

Coming up on to the deck, Steve takes the towel from Danny with a grateful nod. After Steve dries himself off (also a great show) they sit together in silence for a little while, sipping their coffee.

“You know what I’m in the mood for?” Steve asks, breaking the silence.

“What?”

“Pizza.”

It’s still early in the morning, and Steve never wants pizza, but Danny isn’t about to object.

“Okay.”

By the time they get ready to leave the house, they still haven’t decided on whether to get take-out or go to the grocery store for the necessary items to make pizza from scratch. Danny used to do it all the time with Grace, so he knows they can do a decent job themselves, but then they see a pizza joint that opens early, and they decide to take the lazy way out.

They still have some time to kill so they walk around the little town for a while, browsing in a bookstore with a surprisingly interesting selection of books about mysteries in New England, and treating themselves to an overpriced pound of assorted gummies and chocolate covered fruit from a candy store. Danny buys them lattes flavored with real maple syrup, which Steve declares disgusting. Danny kind of agrees, although he’s not about to admit it.

Finally the pizza place opens, and they scroll through their phones as they wait for their order to be ready. Danny’s got a text from Grace apologizing for being a pain and sending him a bunch of cute emojis, which do their job and make him smile.

When their order is called Steve offers to pay – the first time that day, Danny can’t help but point out – and just as he’s digging his fingers into his wallet to extract his money, a ring flies out and clatters to the ground, rolling away towards the door.

The woman next to them at the counter dives for it and hands it back to Steve. “Got it!” she announces triumphantly. “You wouldn’t want to lose this.”

The tips of Steve’s ears have gone red, but he plays along, thanking the woman and stuffing the ring into his pocket.

Danny takes the pizza and they walk out to the Jeep. Danny is concentrating on not saying anything, because anything he says is just going to make matters worse. When they get inside, Steve starts the car, pulls out onto the road, and then glances at him pointedly before speaking.

“Okay, out with it.”

“What?”

“You’re dying to yell at me,” Steve says. “Go ahead, get it over with.”

“I’m not going to yell at you. Why would I yell at you? You haven’t even started driving yet.”

“Danny…”

Danny considers his options. Steve’s right, he’s probably not going to be able to keep quiet about this. Might as well get it over with or Steve will just keep bothering him about it. “Just wondering if that’s the same ring Harry gave you to use back in Laos. Or if you got a new one.”

A pause. Danny watches Steve’s face, but he doesn’t give anything away.

“And that matters… why?”

Danny shrugs. “Don’t know. But you asked, and that’s what I was thinking.”

“No, it’s not the same ring – Harry took those rings back.” Steve’s definitely got a tone, and not surprisingly, it’s fairly tense. “What, do you think I’ve had the rings sitting around my house this whole time?”

“How would I know? You never got rid of the engagement ring you got Cath.”

Steve’s fingers tighten around the steering wheel. “I didn’t know what to do with it.”

“Well, guess it’s a good thing you kept it.” Which is completely unfair of Danny to say. It doesn’t even make sense – Steve and Cath just used plain gold wedding rings in the ceremony, as it turned out, although Danny had expected to see the diamond make an appearance. He had, in fact, driven himself kind of nuts waiting for it to appear on Catherine’s finger in the days before the wedding. Not that he was looking that closely, or anything.

It’s only a few minutes’ drive back to the house, although it feels like forever. When they pull into the driveway, Steve turns off the car and sits still for a long moment, biting his lip. Finally he turns to Danny.

“You know, this hasn’t been fun for me either. When I wanted to ask for real, Catherine rejected me. Then she comes back and wants a wedding, not because she cares about me, but because I’m useful.”

“You looked like you were having fun, standing up there in your tux in front of everyone, professing your love and devotion.” Danny regrets his words as soon as they leave his mouth. He knows it’s not true, but he can’t seem to stop picking at this scab.

“Danny, if you think there is anyone I want to be saying those words to besides you, you really haven’t been paying attention.” Steve gets out of the car and closes the door, walking into the house without even a glance back in Danny’s direction.

Danny leans over and bangs his head against the dashboard.

The smell of pizza permeates the car. It’s not helping.

Danny’s torn between wanting to give Steve a minute or two to cool off, and knowing that time probably won’t make his fuck-up any less painful. Taking the pizza with him (it’s not the pizza’s fault Danny is a dumb-ass) he goes inside the house.

Steve is out on the deck, leaning against the railing.

“I’m sorry, babe. I was out of line. I’m sorry.”

Danny comes up behind Steve, puts his hands on his shoulders and leans his forehead against his back. “Please, you know I’m an idiot when I start running my mouth. I’m sorry.”

Steve turns in Danny’s arms, his face drawn, eyes flickering up to Danny’s and then back down again. “This hurt me too,” he says, his voice rough. “Why can’t you see that?”

Danny feels his heart break. “I do, I do see it. I should have seen it before. I’m sorry.” Danny tilts his head up and kisses Steve, who kisses back with more force than Danny expected, sending a sudden shiver down his spine. Steve practically attacks his mouth, biting at his lip, clutching tight at Danny’s sides.

Danny feels Steve shuffle him backwards, until he’s pushed down into a chair, Steve straddling him and grabbing his face with both hands.

The deck chair creaks and Danny turns his face just enough to get a full breath, holding Steve back when he tries to dive back in for more.

“Hey, hey, calm down,” Danny says. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

“Danny…” Steve pants out, sounding desperate. “What do I have to do? Just tell me, I’ll do it, I don’t want to fight anymore.”

“We’re not fighting. It’s okay, we’re fine. I promise. We’re fine.”

Steve sags against Danny, still breathing hard. Danny strokes his hands up and down Steve’s back, trying to soothe him. “This was a dumb plan, okay? We both know that now, we got the memo. But the worst is over, right? No more watching the love of our life marry somebody else, no more having to pretend with fucking Catherine. That part’s all done.”

Steve squirms in Danny’s hold, and then sits up, the wrecked look on his face replaced by something decidedly more hopeful. “The love of your life?”

Danny rocks his head back, embarrassed, but he can’t avoid Steve’s gaze for long. “Yes, you goof. You’re the love of my life. I’ll write it on a pancake if you want. Now get off me, before I lose all feeling in my legs.”

Steve complies, lifting a long leg gracefully up and over Danny’s lap. “You couldn’t fit that on a pancake.”

“Two pancakes, then. Or one really big pancake.”

“Will you butter them for me?”

Danny accepts Steve’s hand and lets him pull him up out of the chair, his back protesting at the angle. “How about we reheat that pizza, and save the pancakes for later?”

*****

The next few days feel almost normal, although it’s downright strange to have all this time with Steve and so little to do. Unlike normal, though, they don’t fill their free time with sex. It just doesn’t feel right.

One afternoon they take the speedboat out. Once they get past the little island with the funny trees the lake opens up. It’s much bigger than Danny had realized, and they cruise around for an hour or so, exploring the little coves and looking for the bird Danny keeps hearing hoot at them.

“It’s a loon, Danny,” Steve insists. But Danny can’t take this seriously, as “you’re a loon” seems to be the only appropriate response.

They’ve turned off the boat’s engine, just letting themselves drift. The sun is warmer today, and Steve has stripped off his shirt and is lying back with his eyes closed. He looks like something out of a magazine.

“Naptime?” Danny asks.

“Yeah, you should try it.”

“Aren’t you afraid we’ll run into something?”

Steve sits up. “I put down the anchor. How did you miss that?”

Danny shrugs. “I was looking for the bird.”

Steve opens his mouth to say “loon” but realizes that Danny is goading him, and stops himself just in time. “Come on, come up here with me.”

Steve is stretched out on the deck by the bow, and he’s got a cushion under his head. Danny tosses his own shirt below in the little cabin and climbs forward, joining Steve on the deck. He lies down carefully, shuffling until his head is next to Steve’s.

The rocking of the boat is incredibly calming, and the heat of the sun on his skin quickly warms him through. He runs his fingers over the bumpy surface of the deck. “What if we never went back?”

Steve nuzzles Danny’s head. “You’d miss Grace and Charlie.”

“We could visit.”

“You’d get bored. You’re bored already.”

“Says the man who felt the need to tune-up our rental car yesterday.”

“It was making a noise.”

“It’s a car, it’s supposed to make noise.” Danny sighs, poking at Steve’s side until Steve wraps their hands together. “It’s just nice to be away, I guess.”

“Didn’t know you liked pine trees so much.”

“I don’t think it’s the pine trees.” Danny lifts himself up a little, leans over and presses a kiss to Steve’s cheekbone, his hair blowing down over his face.

“That tickles,” Steve responds, cupping Danny’s face to guide Danny’s lips to his own. “Mmm, better.”

They make out lazily for a while, and then Steve dozes off, resting his face against Danny’s bare shoulder. Danny considers ribbing him for falling asleep while kissing, but then decides to take it as a compliment.

Later that night, as Danny is joining Steve in bed – once again, both of them clad in t-shirts and sleep pants - Danny manages to put words to the elephant in the room.

“You, um, you don’t mind? That we’re not-” he waves his hand vaguely between them.

Steve shrugs. “It’s fine. Besides, for the moment, I’m married. At least until we file for divorce.” He doesn’t say it like a joke, more like a death sentence.

“Babe, are you… are you worried about committing adultery?”

Steve blushes. “No, of course not.”

He maybe is, Danny thinks. Who could have guessed? Danny gets in bed and scoots over towards Steve. “I was assuming we were both not engaging in… whatever,” he waves his hand again, “for the same reasons, but now I’m not so sure.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Steve says, clearly uncomfortable.

“I think it does,” Danny says gently. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

Steve purses his lips. “You already did.”

“You didn’t have sex with Catherine after the wedding, right?” Danny may have been upset at having to watch Steve go through with the ceremony, including kissing the bride, but not once has he doubted Steve’s fidelity.

Steve’s eyes widen. “Of course not, Danny, what do you think-”

“So you won’t be filing for divorce, it’ll be an annulment. As if it never happened.”

Danny’s not sure how this detail never occurred to Steve, but it clearly did not. “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Oh.” A little smile pulls at the corner of Steve’s mouth. “An annulment. That’s, um, that’s better.” He glances up at Danny. “Not that there’s anything wrong with being divorced, if you meant to be married in the first place, but-” Steve sighs and ducks his head, leaning against Danny’s side.

“But what?”

“It felt like I was wasting it with her. The whole time, through the ceremony, and the reception, with all the flowers and congratulations and celebrating… I felt so empty. And then I went to find you, and you were already gone – which I totally understand, but still… it wasn’t right. I guess I wanted it to be special.”

Danny slides down and wraps an arm around Steve, taking a moment to judge Steve’s mental state before responding. He almost always laughs, no matter how awful Danny’s jokes are, but they’re on shaky ground these days.

“I’m sorry, babe,” Danny finally says, seriously. “I’m sorry you wasted your wedding virginity on Catherine.”

Steve barks out a laugh, and then Danny is laughing too, until they’re both clutching their stomachs and gasping for air.

“Guess you can’t wear white at our wedding,” Danny spits out between cackles.

“That’s offensive and archaic, I can wear whatever I want,” Steve replies, still laughing.

It seems to take forever before they calm down, one of them starting up again and setting the other off, but they finally relax. Danny rests his head on Steve’s chest, fingers playing idly with the collar of his t-shirt.

“So,” Steve says, “you, um, think we’re going to have a wedding someday, you and me?”

Danny is suddenly glad he’s got a shirt on, because otherwise he’d probably be sporting a full body blush. “If it’s up to me? Yeah.”

Steve squeezes Danny so tight for a moment he can hardly breathe. “I’d like that too.”

*****

Danny’s getting out the ingredients to make pancakes the next morning when Steve’s phone rings. Steve picks it up and answers, straightening his shoulders in a way that makes Danny stop rattling pans and pay attention.

“Okay. Understood. Understood.”

This side of the call isn’t very informative, and Steve has walked out onto the deck, clearly focused on the conversation. Soon Danny sees him shove his phone back into his pocket, and then turn towards Danny with a wide grin on his face.

“Danno?” Steve strides towards him and takes him in his arms. “It’s over. Cath’s op is done, the guy is in custody. We don’t have to pretend anymore. It’s over.”

“That’s great, babe-” Whatever else Danny was going to say is lost as Steve kisses him hard and long. Danny gives back just as enthusiastically, pulling away just long enough to nip at Steve’s jaw and suck at that spot on his neck that always makes Steve moan - and today is no exception. Danny’s practically humping Steve’s leg when Steve stops them and starts to tug Danny towards the stairs.

Danny nearly trips over his own feet in his hurry to follow him, and Steve beams back at him. They’re both stripping off their clothes as they go up, but Steve grabs Danny’s hands just as he’s about to divest himself of his briefs.

“Hang on, buddy, we need to make sure we’re on the same page,” Steve says, still grinning like a lunatic.

“I dunno, you get over your aversion to cheating on your not-wife?”

Steve’s smile gets impossibly wider, and he yanks his pants up off the floor, pulling out his cell phone from a pocket and stabbing at it vigorously.

“It’s not cheating if she says it’s ok – see?”

Steve’s pulled up a text, clearly from Cath, which says you have my full permission to ravish and be ravished. Danny’s kind of curious as to what exactly Steve asked, to get that kind of response, but that’s a question for another time. Right now, there are more important matters to attend to.

“So, which one will it be, then?” Danny asks, as Steve gets his thumbs under the waistband of Danny’s briefs and impatiently renders Danny naked. “Ravish or be ravished?”

Steve drops to his knees and smiles up at Danny, his hands already sliding up Danny’s thighs and making him quiver. “I’ll bet we can do both.”

They do.

#H50 #Hawaii Five-0 #mcdanno #Steve McGarrett #Danny Williams #my fic #Bound To Be Together #Alternate Ending

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