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violettelueur · 3 years

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— JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE TWENTY FOUR || ACCOMPLICES

↳ featuring : itadori yuji + fushiguro megumi + kugisaki nobara + gojo satoru + nitta akari from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : mention of violence + mention of curses + EXTREME grammar issues

↳ form : story

↳ published : 22 may

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 3.5k

↳ synopsis : within the jujutsu world, there were three famous clans to be aware of, the Kamo clan, Zenin clan and the Gojo clan. However, unknown to many sorcerers there was one last family that was known to be apart of the three, only for them to disappear after the golden era leading some to speculate that they had died in battle after the sealing of ryomen sukuna, but….

↳ previous episode : the origin of blind obedience 2

↳ barista’s notes : so here we are for the final episode of season one of jujutsu kaisen for my series, it’s been a long journey since i started this in early feburary and now it is late may ʕ ꆤ ᴥ ꆤʔ wow times does go really fast, doesn’t it? well, i hope you enjoy this cup of special classic black coffee and prepare for the jujutsu strolls that are going to be coming soon when you ask for a bit of milk in your coffee ʕ•ᴥ•ʔﾉ♡

1. the whole story belongs to Gege Akutami and the credits go to them and them only.

2. the spell curses used belong to Tite Kubo due to them being the ‘Kidos’ being used on the manga and anime ‘Bleach’.

Hakufuku : 10:19-10:32

2.5. for the ‘cursed spells’/kidos (bleach) i will link this video here and tell you the time stamp to check out what i am intending to show - remember i add a few twist here and there by adding the katana to link with Y/N’s cursed technique : hopefully this video is slightly better…

3. if you are confused on anything, please don’t hesitate to message me since i know this whole thing is so confusing.

SAITAMA URAMI EAST JUNIOR HIGH - 1ST YEAR

“Here you go, you’ll need this”

Turning his head to look up, Fushiguro quickly noticed someone standing over him with their hand stretched out in front of him leading his eyes to peer down, only to notice a bandage wrap within the palm of their hands causing him to turn away as if he was looking away in disgust.

“Here you go, you’ll need this, you drag,” you repeated with the insult causing an irk to appear on Fushiguro’s forehead before turning to look at you with an annoyed expression present on his face.

“Go away, I don’t need it,” Fushiguro mentioned with some hint of annoyance and irritation within his tone causing the same irk to appear on your forehead as you then turned your head to look at the pile of beaten bodies that were behind him - an unsightly common sight since you enrolled into Saitama Urami East Junior High.

Sighing out loud, you suddenly grabbed the back of Fushiguro’s collar and began dragging him across the floor towards the bench that was close by (much to Fushiguro’s annoyance) and threw his body slight causing his upper shoulder area to hit the wooden side of the bench which lead him to hiss in pain.

“I don’t need it~ well sounds like you do,” you teased in a nonchalant manner causing Fushiguro to give you a sharp glare only to see that you had no reaction to it. Reaching into your blazer pocket, you took out a box of painkillers with some plasters in different sizes and a small pot of ointment before placing them on the outdoor bench.

“Don’t bother your sister too much...okay?” you rhetorically asked your classmate before turning back to walk away from the situation since you knew Fushiguro was going to question you on your knowledge about his sister even though he - on the outside - never really took the time to appreciate her or showed that he cared.

“What a drag,” you commented with another sigh before stretching your arms down to release the act that was slowly creeping its way to your shoulders as some students began to exit out of the school building to eat their lunch causing them to notice you as you gave them a little wave.

A FEW WEEKS LATER

Ever since that day, Fushiguro couldn’t help but begin to notice you slightly from the corner of his eyes as each day went by. At first, you sort of blended into the crowd in the sea of uniforms that was travelling around in the hallway, seeming to not want any attention from the teachers nor the students alike yet you seemed to somehow attract them leading you to offer the same small smile that he had somewhat gotten used to.

On the other hand, Fushiguro couldn’t help but get slightly annoyed at how your name was being called by the second, it was always “Y/N” this or “Y/N” that since you hated your last name being called. As in a matter of fact, he didn’t even have any acknowledgement or a hint of a clue of what your last name was at all. However, when you would say your name in your own tone, Fushiguro slowly began to notice how he then wouldn't get irritated causing a wave of confusion to hit him every time he would wonder why.

“Y/N, aren’t you going to participate in the elections for the student council, the teachers have nominated you?” one female student asked in a light tone causing Fushiguro to peak slightly over his arm as he was taking a nap for this lunch break, only to see you holding a book with a few other female students surrounding you.

“Nah, it’s such a drag...I don’t like taking responsibility for things,” you commented softly as you placed your thumb over the last word you were reading to keep a hold of your place causing the students around you to become confused before asking more questions causing some of your answers to perplex the erratic haired boy himself.

“I’m not good at organising things”

“I don’t have the time”

“I don’t like helping people”

“Liar,” Fushiguro muttered under his breath before closing his eyes again to fall into a quick nap while repeating the last words you had said to the students around you.

“I don’t like helping people”

If you really didn’t like helping people, then why did you help him a few weeks ago? As well as leaving some first aid kit items on his table at the end of lunch to restock shall he say? Sure, you had helped other people here and there from letting them copy your notes to little study sessions during lunch to help the other person concentrate but he was wondering why you would help a delinquent like him...but further yet, why didn’t you ask for anything in return.

“Y/N, I found you,” someone shouted, causing Fushiguro’s ears to spike up once he knew the familiar tone to the voice that decided to enter the conversation.

“I wanted to apologise for Megumi’s behaviour for the past weeks and wanted to pay you back for the medical items you had given him,” Tsumiki informed you causing Fushiguro to slowly open his eyes again to see Tsumiki’s arm outstretched with some cash within her palm while you looked down on at with a hint of disappointment in your face.

“Don’t bother your sister too much...okay?”

Placing your bookmark on the page you were on, you gently placed it down before folding Tsumiki’s fingers over the money she was kindly offering you as payment, leading her to give you a surprising expression since, with that action, she instantly knew you were declining.

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to repay me...Just take care of him, okay?” you mentioned with a soft tone before smiling up at your senior leading Fushiguro’s curiosity about you to heighten up even further than it was at the beginning.

“I don’t like helping people”

SAITAMA URAMI EAST JUNIOR HIGH - 2ND YEAR

Walking in the school hallways, Fushiguro couldn’t help but notice how the gloomy and mundane weather was reflecting everyone’s mood as it seemed as if everyone had a lack of energy this morning and to be honest, he couldn’t blame them one single bit.

It was the day after, Tsumiki decided to attempt the test of courage at Yasohachi Bridge causing her to become cursed as she fell into a sudden coma causing guilt to begin eating him almost wholly as he took each step in the hallway.

From what he recalled, Gojo had mentioned that Tsumiki was somewhat saved by a cursed technique leading her to not become physically injured at the attempt of jumping off, yet that didn’t save her from the curse that fell upon her since the lingering reverse cursed energy that was surrounding her body wasn’t enough or effective on her and the other students that decided to tag along with her leading him to wonder who was the person that tried to save his sister and her friends from that night.

Suddenly, Fushiguro heard something drop from behind causing him to turn his body completely, only to discover a fallen student leading him to widen his eyes on the sight before crouching down to check the pulse of the person only to discover that they were fine, as he then processed to turn his head to the side where more students from the classroom beside him began to drop one by one leading him to become more panicked since this was just the day after Tsumiki’s curse.

Unexpatantly, Fushiguro heard someone beginning to run towards his direction causing him to turn his head once again, only to find you running towards him with a somewhat worried expression on your face as you began to look at each classroom to see all the students within them passed out.

“Fushiguro!” you shouted in a panic leading him to quickly stand up on his feet as he reached out to you so he could rush you out of the school building to get you to Gojo to ensure your safety. If you were able to help him multiple times, maybe this time he could help you as his repayment.

Grabbing your hand, Fushiguro turned to his feet to begin running but for some reason, you weren’t running with him due to the halt of his movements when trying to pull you towards the exit of the school.

“Y/N, what are you doing? We got to run!” Fushiguro shouted in anger as he turned his head to face you eye to eye, only to come into eye contact with dark but glowing purple eyes causing his body to slowly become limp as his vision began to become gradually disorientated as an illusion of purple cherry blossoms began to fall around the both of you.

“Hakufuku”

Suddenly, Fushiguro began to lose his footing causing his body to quickly fall, only for you to catch him in your arms as you slowly lowered yourself to make sure his body didn’t harshly hit the floor due to any injuries he had gained from yesterday’s fight as you laid him on his side.

“Sorry, Fushiguro,” you whispered with a hint of regret before rapidly standing back up to run the other way which seemed towards the school’s computer’s system leading him slowly turn his head as he struggled to reach out towards your direction before the same arm dropped completely while his mind began to grow blank while your figure steadily disappeared from his sights while his memories of you began to gradually fade as he tried to maintain them with such difficulty.

“Y/N…”

THE DAY BEFORE THE MISSON

“You’ve been reading those books for quite some time, you know”

Turning your head away from the book placed upon your lap, you discovered Gojo in front of you with a teasing smile on his face as his body was leaning on the side of the doorway he had entered from.

“Well, there are quite a few to go through,” you muttered as you turned your head to the other side to see two piles of stacked up books that were somewhat in equal height right now with one pile of the books that you needed to read while the other was the books you had finished reading during the past weeks since you had moved into the Gojo’s clan estate.

From what you could recall the day you stepped foot into Gojo’s house, he had surprisingly guided you into a room that was filled with bookshelves that had books comfortably sitting in its place causing your eyes to widen at the sight only for him to inform you that all that books had belonged in your name.

“All of them belong to me?” you remembered asking leading your adoptive father to giggle slightly at your confused and flustered state as you began to roam around the pathway the bookshelves had given you, only to land on a particular shelf that had books written from your clan to which seemed to be addressed to you.

“I see you found the books, your mother was really smart to lock them and make sure you’re the only person who could read them,” Gojo mentioned to you when he had found you staring at them leading you to turn to him with a perplexed expression only for him to further explain that whenever he tried to touch the weathered spine of the book he would feel an invisible barrier blocking his movements and even when he attempted to use his infinity, there was no use.

However, when it was you, it just seemed like a normal book due to how easily you pull gently and carefully pull it out of the shelf and open it, only for Gojo to comment that all he could see what blank pages yet sense the linger cursed energy that was coming through the paper-based artefact. While on the other hand, you were able to view the elegant black brush strokes gracing the paper which was slightly confusing since you weren’t able to fully comprehend the poetic and outdated Japanese due to how influential the Chinese language was during the Heian era.

“I can’t believe you are technically older than me~” Gojo teased while wiping a fake tear from the corner of his eye, causing you to immediately snap out of your daydream to fully turn to him with a completely annoyed expression painted on your face.

“I DIDN’T AGE ONCE DURING MY SEALING, YOU DRAG!” you screamed in irritation causing the servant who was coming to serve you some tea to stumble slightly before regaining her balance as she let out a sigh of relief, leading you to deeply apologise to her before rushing up to your feet to help her on carrying the wooden, circular tea tray that she was holding on for you.

“I wish I got to see you grow into the woman that you are by the time you are reading this, but may you bloom into the sorcerer that you dream to be” - Your mother.

ꕥ

“GOJO! GOJO!”

Slowly, from the loud shouting that was going on, you began to groan in annoyance while opening your eyes to find Itadori and Kugisaki kneeling in front of you with panicked expressions residing in their faces before steadily turning into relief once they noticed that you were smiling at them.

“Good job,” you whispered to them before resting your head back on the tree you were leaning on causing them to smile brightly back at you before high-fiving each other as they shouted on how relief they were as they already had a fright when they discovered Fushiguro laying on their ground before trying to find you.

“Did you collect the finger?” you questioned your classmates leading them to all freeze in a panic since they didn’t expect you to know about the issue with the special curse that was lingering within the domain that you were all previously in. As a matter of fact, you had already sensed it a few moments ago as well those three years back when you were in middle school.

“Ah...about that...Itadori ate it…” Fushiguro muttered in embarrassment, causing you to look at him with a blank stare before turning your head towards Itadori, who was now looking at you with a ‘trying to be innocent’ expression on his face as he scratched his cheek with his index finger.

“Sorry, Gojo...It was an accident,” Itadori stuttered in a light tone, while you continued to give him the blank expression before hitting his head with the handle of your katana causing him to hold the area while wincing in pain as you began to stand up on your feet.

“HEY! YOU FOUR!”

Due to the sudden shouting, everyone head’s to shot up to find Nitta screaming at you and your classmates from above while waving her fist in such an erratic way, trying to emphasise her anger to all of you at this current moment in time.

“What have you four been doing? You wouldn’t answer my calls!” Nitta yelled, causing her voice to echo throughout the entire area causing you to wonder if anyone had turned on their lights due to the loud interruptions from their sleep.

“Oh, Nitta-san,” Itadori called out in surprise as he stared up at the irritated woman.

“She’s lost it,” Kugisaki mentioned, as she too was observing the shouting fit that all four of you were enduring right now.

“Well, shall we go home?” Itadori asked as he turned around to face you, leading the other two first-years to turn to look at you as well causing your eyebrows to raise up

‘Ah...I guess I did think about running away for a second....’

“Yeah, let’s go home,” you answered back before beginning to walk forward leaving Itadori and Kugisaki to talk about having Spendud Sushi as dinner while Nitta was continuing to yell at all four of you from above.

“I know as time passes, the more the Earth will push its fangs upon your shoulder and it’s completely my fault and I deeply apologise from the bottom of my heart. I knew the day that I was blessed with you that I desired nothing more than to give you the easiest route away from all the troubles the Zenin clan had put on us, away from the Jujutsu world and away from the loneliness that you will come face to face once I and your father are gone. I adore you with all my heart and want nothing more than your heart to be blessed with trust, happiness and comfort. Wherever you are, just know that I will always look after you, no matter how long I have to wait, I will always be the mother that I wished I could be for you” - Your mother.

ꕥ

“Why did you leave?”

Turning your head to the side, you found Fushiguro standing on the wooden terrace that you were sitting on with a stern look on his face while you just blinked at him before turning your head to face the garden with a book laying upon your lap as you tried a way to figure out how to bring up the topic that you tried to avoid since coming into acquaintance with the shikigami sorcerer.

“What do you mean?” you asked before closing the book in such a gentle manner, worried that you could damage more than it already was - even if it was such in a good condition after enduring itself for 1000 years.

“Why did you leave? Why did you erase my memory? Why did you go?” Fushiguro queried once again, as he decided to take a seat next to you causing anyone who would see both of you and Fushiguro to notice the contrast in your outfits. At this current moment in time, you were wearing a simple yukata due to being at Gojo’s estate - it was common/courtesy to wear traditional clothing - while Fushiguo was wearing a white jumper with what seemed to be black joggers along with some trainers causing you to come to the assumption that he had either can to talk to you or train with Gojo again like he did last time.

“I’m sorry Fushiguro...but I had to do it,” you answered before grabbing the cup of tea that was sitting right beside you as you then took a sip of the warm drink leading some of your nerves to calm down as you also took a deep breath.

“Why didn’t you stay?” Fushiguro questioned again in a low tone while staring down at the ground trying to compose himself as more memories of you began to steadily flow in.

“It was too risky,” you answered again as you continued to stare at the garden that was blooming in front of you before turning your head to look at your classmate, who seemed to be in deep thought about the response you had just given him.

“I never got to repay you back from the kindness you had given me,” Fushiguro mentioned as he turned his head up to look at you, only to make eye contact leading the memories of your technique to come into his mind.

“I don’t need a repayment, I just did what I wanted to help you,” you replied back as you placed your cup down onto the wooden tray before laying your upper body down on the terrace while your legs were handing off to the side causing your hair to splay across the wooden platform the both of you were sitting on right now.

“But you don’t like helping people,” Fushiguro quickly mentioned as he turned his head to face you, causing your eyes to move from the sky above you to the boy that was now looking at you with a somewhat small smile planted upon his face causing you to remember the conversation that you had with him and Kugisaki about not telling Itadori the reason why numerous amount of cursed fingers that have been popping up recently - making you come to the realisation that he was technically asking you and Kugisaki to help him keep the guilt away from the vessel of Sukuna himself.

“Yeah...I don’t like helping people,” you answered with the same smile as he was presenting you, causing a light giggle to arise from the both of you.

‘I’ll recommend them for a promotion later...’

“Whoever you fall for the sky for, my dear. I wish you nothing but the world’s blessing to fall upon the two of you. May all the flowers that come to bloom will bring you grace and tenderness that you deserve, the same feelings that I wish I could provide to you as a mother like how the sun gives you its warmth” - Your mother.

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miscellaneous-obsession · 3 years

Note

Story of any kind of Lady Dimitrescu x Reader but have Miranda in it?

Back to our usual schedule of fics, here is one that took a bit to write! I went with full on angst and fluff so you have been warned... and will be again like twice :)

Unending Nightmare

Warnings: Graphic violence, details of injury, blood and gore, general feeling of anxiety, panic, despair, Miranda being horrible as hell and not suitable for minors.

It seemed almost surreal to regain consciousness in the main hall, her body lounging on one of two settees that sat perfectly aligned to the table in between. Alcina's spine cried in anguish with an unnatural contortion, prompting amber eyes to flutter open, blinking comically in rapid succession to disperse the remnants of sleep that clouded her vision. Rising to a sitting position relieved the strain she experienced, with subsequent stretching of limbs resulting in audible pops.

As her gaze panned briefly across the room, everything appeared untouched, even lipstick-stained cups that sat atop of matching saucers, evidence of her impromptu afternoon tea shared with her wife. A smile saw her slackened jaw tighten with the memory, her mind reliving the moment vividly as she gracefully angled her legs as to touch the ground. However, the sole of one heel didn't make it, landing upon the novel still open to the bookmarked page in which it was discarded as she succumbed to sleep.

However, as the matriarch moved to collect the piece of literature, a piercing scream laced with agony carried through the endless corridors, starling Alcina from her reverie. A sound from such a distance shouldn't have been able to travel, nor should the crying wails and sobs that followed. A note of familiarity within the voice struck a chord in the countess as her mind sought an answer. All the while, fear began to steadily crawl along her spine, wrapping tight like a snake, slithering into her heart in an attempt of manifestation. Shakily she brought her hand to her lips, eyes widening as she recognised the perpetual weeping.

The safety the castle once afforded her dematerialised before her very eyes as fragments of reality appeared to settle into place. The pleading whimpers almost quietened into non-existence, much like the fire that began to dim. In what light remained, Alcina took note of the disorganised chaos that made itself known, how furniture had been shoved aside, vases broken in the wake of a predator, even the blood that marred the marble floor.

Instinctively her claws unsheathed, sensing the danger that posed as a threat to her family. However, as the matriarch took a step closer, intent on examining the trail of crimson destruction, she staggered backwards. The scent of iron in the air was unmistakable; a smell she was well acquainted with and often so enticed by became reclusive as it hit her olfactory receptors. Someone dared to touch... harm what was hers, somewhere in the place they called home, her wife lay injured.

Grappling with the panic and horror that strove to run rampant in her mind, Alcina frantically called aloud for her daughters. But even when beckoned, her solitude persisted; never once upon summoning had her girls elected to disobey or ignore. At last, the illusion of elegance and composure shattered, leaving the countess in what she deemed an unsavoury, feral state, desperate to find and protect what she claimed to be her own.

Alcina all but marched to the cellar growing increasingly fretful with every step she took as she was forced to strain her ears to catch sound of the almost silent, pained murmurs. Ignorant of her own wellbeing, she pursued her wife in heels with an unnaturally fast pace across the uneven, damp terrain, paid by a loss of stance on more than one occasion. Upon rounding the corner in what could be deemed a dishevelled appearance, the matriarch's heart stuttered, skipping a beat involuntarily at the lurid sight before her.

Laid on a mortuary table, gasping for breath, was her beloved, blood pooling beneath her quivering frame from a freshly inflicted incision site as her body seemingly rejected what was both forced and foreign. Once vivid blue irises were almost consumed by blacked pupils, a natural response to the accumulation of adrenaline created as unwavering pain gripped her body. Teeth had long pierced both tongue and lips, allowing more blood to bead in droplets to go unused and wasted, following gravity to the drain so conveniently in place on the stainless steel table.

The growl unleashed from Alcina's throat was unrivalled; her desire to cry out extinguished as she pried her gaze upward. Standing mere inches from her wife's side was Miranda, in a laboratory coat almost befitting of her former self. In hand was an empty jar, fluid swishing with the gentle jostles of the deities movements. A worn label, lacking adhesive, clung to the glass, almost faded to the human eye, but two letters confirmed the unthinkable.

"You've arrived in time, my dear; your pet's future is dependent on this very moment."

Unable to refute the truth in Miranda's words nor bring solace to her wife, she attempted the latter as it appeared the more achievable of the two. With claws retracted, unwilling to cause more harm, Alcina cradled her wilting wife's face as delicately she could muster. She blinked several times over the next minute, refusing to let the tears she felt building fall as she honed in on the ever slowing heartbeat. Hushed apologies and whispered declarations of love were shared, albeit one-sided, in some hope that her beloved heard.

Desperate for her wife to avoid an inevitable future as a mindless moroaicǎ, she continued to track her declining health, choosing to strike as the paled woman took her final breath as a human. Before the transformation could ensue, Alcina made the decision to end what would begin within the coming minutes. Her choice is emboldened upon catching Miranda's dismissive and callous opinion, "Another failure, unsurprising."

Just as her claws were sat poised to cut and render the moroaicǎ useless, her body jolted awake, sweat beading along her brow from the horrifyingly realistic dream her mind had conjured. Swiping a hand to remove what clung to her skin, her eyes blindly searched the room devoid of light. A shaky but relieved sigh slipped past her lips as her hand came to land on and subsequently caress the top of her wife's head.

As calming as one's breathing regulations could be, it didn't replace nor best physical contact with the woman she loved. With arms outstretched, she enveloped her wife, drawing her atop her chest, listening and attempting to match the rhythmic beat of her heart. During such extrication from her place under the covers, bleary eyes opened a fraction in confusion, head tilting to mirror jumbled thoughts.

"Alci?"

"Forgive me, dragă mea, go back to sleep."

Feeling the minute shake of a head, the countess peered down, acknowledging the look of concern that replaced serenity. A hand of supple skin rose to gently gloss over her cheeks, gathering what tears had fallen with the pull of gravity.

"What is troubling you so, beloved?"

Unable to recount most of the tale, Alcina spared her wife from gruesome details, summarising the dream to one line, "It appears my mind attempted to convince me I had lost you."

A contemplative hum resonated directly below her ear, the vibration of which tickled the countess' neck as her wife nestled comfortably in her hold. "Nothing in this world could part me from you; I love you too much to bear separation in this lifetime."

"And if we had no other choice?"

A tutting sound emerged in the dark, an almost dismissal of such a notion. "Then I'd have lived a life knowing I had a woman who loved me and three beautiful daughters to succeed me."

"Poetic... only divulging such a divine talent and way with words now. But I fear you forget that you were the one, with an open heart and mind, who reintroduced my capability to love another outside my darling girls, a trait I thought had been long lost to my mutation."

A keening whine of appreciation caught her ears, further emphasised as featherlight kisses were pressed along the expanse of exposed skin, her wife opting to include areas of her jaw within reach.

"It appears we were both lucky with the hand fate dealt us." After a beat of silence, a tired voice reiterated what had been murmured in the last moments before their slumber, "Te iubesc Cina... te iubesc."

Those wise words and impromptu reaffirmation soothed the ache left by the dream, eradicating the pain like a salve. With practised ease, the matriarch responded in kind, "Și eu te iubesc," before succumbing to the sleep her body so desperately craved.

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

Both were jolted from sleep only hours later when the covers were unceremoniously pulled back and bodies pressed against them in urgency. Muffled giggles and quiet hushes saw eyes open, only to narrow imperceptibly in faux annoyance, prompting sheepish grins to spread across their daughter's lips. Half-hearted glares quickly faltered, softening into smiles, giving all three the go-ahead to bury their chilled frames in between and around the couple.

Following their lead, Bela too extricated her body, albeit with an audible whine, from beneath the covers. Soon the countess grew amused at the trio's antics as they pleaded with an array of tactics for her wife to join them for their morning routine. Reluctantly Alcina released her wife from her grasp, seeing her subsequently tugged out of bed by the girls. The four ran from the room as a game of tag began, allowing the matriarch to muse as she mapped the softened footfalls of her family throughout the wing in which they resided.

Without warning, her peace was disturbed by the shrill ring of the ornate rotary phone that sat in the adjoining room to her chambers. Donning a robe to retain some modicum of decency, Alcina took her place at her vanity, a tremor running through her hand as she picked up the receiver.

"Mother Miranda."

"Ah Alcina dear, I trust you aren't busy."

Before the matriarch had a chance to respond, Miranda continued on a tangent of her own, "Now, I called to discuss business regarding your wife; her repeated test results have revealed something rather... interesting."

From the moment that phrase was uttered with such an insinuating tone, Alcina could no longer focus. The countess' heart dropped and found herself wishing that the echoing laughter of her girls and beloved could remain forever constant in the castle walls.

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onlyfreds · 3 years

Text

Hugs and Kisses | F.W.

Title: Hugs and Kisses

Requested: Yes/No

Summary: Y/N is not a big fan of physical contact and Fred finds out why.

Warning/s: mentions of abuse, violence, mentions of physical abuse in the past, mention of a gun, bruises

Flashbacks are in italics.

Like everyone else, I have a pet peeve.

Mine was physical contact. Not that I didn’t like touching others, I was fine if someone rested their elbow on my shoulder, but hugging, holding hands, putting an arm around someone’s shoulder/waist. No thanks.

I was walking out of the library with Angelina when I suddenly felt an elbow rest on my right shoulder.

I breathed in the familiar scent of cinnamon and firework powder.

“Hey Freddie.” I said, turning to ginger by my side.

“Hey Princess.” He said, keeping his elbow on my shoulder as George appeared next to Angelina and the four of us started to head towards the common room.

Butterflies flew around in my stomach at the nickname, hopefully the blush on my cheeks wasn’t that visible.

“You guys remember the first time Fred attempted to put an arm around Y/N?” George asked, out of the blue, causing Angelina, Fred and I to laugh.

“Oh yeah.” Angelina said, “That was so hilarious.”

Snow lightly dropped down from the heavens. Painting the ground white and letting out a small chill into the air.

The twins and I were building a snowman outside, very innocent and calm from the usual chaos and havoc we caused, but who doesn’t enjoy building a snowman?

But that peaceful atmosphere was soon destroyed when George threw a snowball at Fred. Thus, the peaceful activity of building a snowman soon transitioned into a huge chaotic snowball fight.

“Oi!” I scolded as a poorly aimed snowball from Fred hit my shoulder.

I scooped up some snow, it was time to join the fun.

“Okay! Okay! I give up!” George said, both hands up in mock surrender as he came out from behind the tree he was hiding.

A smirk grew on Fred’s lips, “See? You can’t beat the dream team.” He teased as he put an arm around my shoulder.

Out of instinct, I immediately pulled away, looking up to see Fred and George both taken aback.

“Sorry.” Fred immediately apologized, “Did I make you uncomfortable or anything?”

I shook my head, “No. You could never make me uncomfortable. It’s just, I’m not a huge fan of physical contact.”

The twins looked at each other, probably using their twin telepathy to communicate.

“Any type of physical contact?” George asked.

I shrugged, “Not all. I suppose that there are exceptions.”

Fred then stepped forward, cautiously resting his elbow on my shoulder, “Is this okay?”

I nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay.”

“Fred’s face was absolutely priceless.” George said, aiming a teasing smile at his twin, “He looked he’d been given an electric shock.”

“Maybe he couldn’t believe that the prettiest girl he ever laid eyes on would react like that.” Angelina added.

I rolled my eyes at the both of them, “Piss off you two before I smother you two with the nearest deadly object I find.”

Angelina scoffed, “What? Don’t tell me you don’t agree.”

I tried to stop the blush that was rising up to my cheeks, “Oh for Merlin’s sake, give me a break Angie.”

I sat on the couch by the common room fire, the clock had struck one a few minutes ago but I can’t seem to put down the book I was holding.

The quiet rustling of the page being turned mixed in perfectly with the soft cackling of the fireplace.

Just as the climax was put in motion, the tension between the two lovers was growing with each passing moment, and just as if Merlin had a grudge against me, the book was suddenly snatched out of my hands.

“Hey!” I complained, looking up at the culprit to see the grinning face of a certain Weasley.

“Fred!” I whined, crossing my arms over my chest, “Why?”

He chuckled, taking a seat next to me as he took the bookmark from my hands and placed it on the page I was reading before closing the book and placing on the table next to the couch, “It’s already one in the morning and you’re still reading.”

“So?” I huffed, “Just because you have never read a book in a day of your life doesn’t mean I can’t.”

He laughed, “Shouldn’t you be sleeping instead of waiting for the two lovers to just suck it up and kiss at the ungodly hours of the morning?”

I smiled, “That’s because I need answers. Besides, I could ask you the same thing, shouldn’t you be sleeping instead of bothering me?”

Fred laughed, playing with my hair, “When did I bother you?”

I shrugged teasingly, “I don’t know. Perhaps now.”

The two of us laughed before falling into comfortable silence, his hands still playing with my hair.

“Darling, can I ask you a question?” Fred suddenly said, breaking through the silence.

I looked up at him, “Sure.”

He combed his hand through his hair, “This might be kinda sensitive. But why aren’t you a big fan of physical contact?”

I bit my lip, avoiding his gaze, contemplating whether I should tell Fred the truth or not.

The smashing of glass that came from the kitchen could be heard even from the closed door of my bedroom.

The yelling from another one of my parents’ argument echoed through the walls of the house.

Then there was a thud, causing me to wince. He must’ve hit her again; it’s being going on for years. He made her promise not tell, he swore that if she did, he would kill me.

So, she never told anyone. She covered every single evidence up with makeup and kept a smile on her lips at every family gathering we attended. No matter how many times she told me that it was okay, I knew that she wasn’t.

I took in a shaky breath as I heard nothing but silence. I slowly opened the door of my bedroom, the creak probably being the loudest sound in the house.

I was about to head to the kitchen when I was that the door to my parents’ bedroom was opened ajar, I took a peek to see my mum stuffing her clothes into a gym bag.

Her shirt was riding up a bit, exposing the almost-black bruises that was littered across her back and, as far as I knew, the rest of her body.

“Mummy?” I said, the fear inside me growing with every passing minute.

She turned to face me, quickly wiping the tears from her eyes.

“Hey sweetie.” She said, her voice a little hoarse as she stooped down to my height, “I want you to pack every important belonging you have. Okay honey? Just like we practiced.”

I nodded, running back to my room as I took the small gym bag I hid under my bed and stuffed every essential thing I could.

My mum held my hand tightly as we tiptoed through the living room, our freedom from this nightmare was just around the corner.

I looked around the living room, it looked like a storm had just passed by. Shards of glass was shattered everywhere, random things that have been thrown laid on the floor. Picture frames that once hang on the walls rested on the cement floor, shattered, broken, just like their promise of forever.

What once was a place of comfort and safety, a home, turned into a place of fear and pain, turned into hell.

Mum was just about to reach for the door handle, the only thing separating us from freedom.

“Where do you two think you’re going?” A cold, furious voice asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Mum asked, turning to face my father as she clutched my hand tighter, “We’re leaving.”

My father gave a humorless chuckle, “Acting all tough now huh? What if I don’t let you.”

Mum stepped in front of me protectively, shielding me from my father, “I don’t give a damn on what you think anymore! I had enough and we’re leaving whether you like it or not!”

Before mum could reach the handle, my father pulled her away by the back of her shirt then smacked her across the face. The force had been enough to knock her over to the coffee table.

I stood there, frozen in fear, thinking for a moment that the force was enough to kill her. Once I realized that she was alright, I immediately ran to her side.

I shot my father a death glare, and did what I thought was pretty brave (or stupid) for a toddler, I ran towards him and tried to push him away. Which, obviously, had no effect.

He looked down at me with burning rage, pulling me by the hair as tears started to stream down my cheeks. Next thing I knew, a gun was pointed to my temple.

“I dare you. Walk out that door.” He threatened, tightening his grip on me, “I promise you that your daughter won’t ever be able to see another light of day.”

“Darling?” Fred’s voice pulled me out of my flashback, “Are you okay?”

I looked back at him, not realizing the tears that were dripping down my cheeks.

Without a word, he was about to put his arm around me when he stopped in his tracks. He looked at me for a moment, silently asking me for permission.

I nodded, scooting closer to him as I rested my head on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat.

I hated physical contact. But Fred was an exemption to that rule, or at least for now.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked softly.

I sniffed, wiping away the remaining tears from my eyes, “My dad used to physically abuse my mum. Whenever she made a mistake or talked back to him, he would hit her brutally. He made her swore not to tell anyone or else he’ll kill me. One day, my mum had enough so the two of us were supposed to escape but he caught us. He hit my mum then pointed a gun at my head. I really thought that I was going to die. Luckily for us, our neighbor suspected that something was wrong and called the police. They arrested him then my mum and I lived at my grandma’s house. Since that day, I knew that I hated physical contact.”

Fred rubbed my back comfortingly, stunned with my confession, “I’m your best friend and I didn’t know that you went through all that.”

I sniffed, “No one did.”

“But,” Fred continued, “Not every physical contact would hurt you. If you want, I can show you.”

I gave him a hesitant smile, “I don’t know Freddie.”

“Look, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. But, if you want, let’s try it for a week. If it still makes you uneasy, then just say the word and we’ll stop.” He offered.

I licked my lips, “Okay. Let’s try it.”

It was a Saturday morning, Angelina, Alicia and I were eating breakfast while discussing Alicia’s recent date with Ravenclaw keeper, Roger Davies.

“He is just absolutely amazing.” Alicia said, obviously swooning over the guy.

“I call dibs on the maid of honor!” Angelina suddenly said.

“Hey!” I complained, taking a sip of pumpkin juice, “You already called dibs on maid of honor for my wedding you can’t call dibs on Alicia’s wedding too!”

I then pointed a finger at Alicia, “I call dibs on maid of honor.”

“What’s all this talk about weddings?” George asked with a teasing grin as he sat down next to Angelina.

“Oh nothing.” I said as the older twin took a seat next to me, “We were just planning Alicia’s future wedding.”

“Wedding huh?” Fred teased, putting an arm around my shoulder, causing me to tense up at first before relaxing into his touch, “Didn’t think of you three as wedding planners.”

No answer or retort came as George, Angelina and Alicia stared at Fred’s arm that was around my shoulder, their mouths slightly agape.

“Fred.” George tried to say, thinking his twin had done it accidentally.

“Don’t you remember?” Angelina and Alicia said at the same time.

He gave them a small, reassuring smile, “Don’t worry guys. Y/N and I talked last night and she willing to give this whole thing a try.”

I nodded, “I told him the reason why I wasn’t a big fan of physical contact and he offered to show how good it is.”

“So, what’s the reason?” Alicia asked.

Fred and I exchanged a look, then he said, “I think that would be a secret between Y/N and I for now.”

His answer was met with the overlapping chatter of the group.

“What?”

“That’s no fair.”

“Why does Fred get to know but we don’t?”

Fred put both his hands up, palms facing outwards, commanding silence, “Look, I’m sure that she’ll tell you the whole story once she’s ready. But for now, we should respect her decision.”

The group nodded in agreement.

Fred clapped his hands together with a small smile, “Great! Now going back to Alicia’s wedding planning, who’s the groom?”

Fred and I were hanging out by the courtyard, watching the sunset, his arm resting across my waist.

For the rest of the day since breakfast, Fred would frequently put an arm around my shoulder or waist.

At first, it felt a bit weird to feel his arm around me but by the afternoon I was used to it.

I had to admit, it felt nice.

“You okay?” He asked.

I nodded, giving him a small smile, “Yeah.”

“Are you sure your fine with this arrangement? Because if your uncomfortable we can stop.” He said.

I giggled, “Honestly Freddie, I’m fine. It actually feels better than I expected.”

He grinned, “Oh darling, just wait until I spoil you with hugs.”

His tone then turned serious, “Thank you for trusting me with your secret.”

I smiled up at him, “I’d trust you with my life Freddie.”

Over the next few weeks, Fred every physical contact as possible.

He was right, not every touch would hurt me.

I enjoyed every single one of his hugs, whenever he would place his arm around my shoulders or waist. He always seemed to find an excuse just to hold me close to him. I had to admit, there was something comforting about being so close to him, that I regretted not trying this out sooner.

“Penny for your thoughts darling?” Fred asked, wrapping his arms around my waist.

I turned around to face him, “Nothing much.”

“So, how does you feel about physical contact now?” He asked with a sly smile.

“I’m loving it.” I said returning the smile, “Thank you so much for showing me how good it is.”

He laughed, “Well I think that there is another form of physical contact you might like.”

I raised a brow at him, “Oh yeah? What is it?”

He slowly leaned forward and connected our lips together in a hungry and desperate kiss, all those years of pent-up feelings being poured into that kiss.

His hands rested on my waist as I cupped his cheeks in my hands.

Even if it was happening right in the moment, I still couldn’t believe that my best friend, my crush ever since first year was kissing me.

We pulled away for a minute before he reconnected our lips together again, this time it was slow and sloppy but full with passion.

Once we pulled away, Fred rested his forehand against mine, both of us breathless and cheeks painted a deep shade of red.

“I liked you for such a long time.” He whispered, “I have never met anyone so cute, so stunning, so intelligent, so funny and so damn hot and sexy. I have never been so in love and wanted anyone more than you. So, will you be my girlfriend?”

I smiled, “Please tell me that I’m not dreaming.”

He chuckled, tracing a finger over my arm, watching the goosebumps erupt from it, “I’m positive that you’re not dreaming.”

I giggled, “Then I would absolutely love to be yours. I would love to be able to hug you, hold your hand and kiss you. Thank you for showing me how it feels to be loved by someone so perfect.”

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ncitygirls · 3 years

Text

matryoshka - part 1, 4k

sibling!johnny, taeyong x f reader, mark x f reader, platonic/‘sibling’!haechan

nct crime au, angst, cw: character death, death, mental illness, police, injury, violence

300 days

There are few people who can disarm a man like Johnny Seo. Since the rather untimely, and inexplicable death of his mother and father at the tender age of fourteen, he quickly adopted this persona. He considers it a token from his late mother. She had always said, in a voice as soft as the breeze in spring, that to be polite is to be in control. He holds himself to that quite forcibly, reminding himself time and time again that there is power in making others fold to him. At time it is as simple as approaching an adversary with a smile, and awaiting the flare in their skin, the bugle in their veins and the ripple in their muscles. There are few who can disarm Johnny Seo. But few does not equate to none.

“When will you discharge her?” Johnny began, the words rolling off of his tongue with an air of nonchalance that bordered on flippancy, but an edge that was new to even him.

“Mr Seo,” without thinking, Johnny rolls his neck, bracing himself for a response he knows he will refuse. He thinks it odd to loathe an act he is yet to commit, especially when he can still prevent it. What he hates more however, is that you are here to witness it. When the doctor sighs, letting his glasses hang around his neck, he smiles sympathetically. Johnny sees nothing but pity. “I’m not sure how else to say this, but physically? Your sister is stable enough to go home. When we went in to remove what was left of the bullet fragments and saw to her ruptured spleen, we managed to mend her torn ligaments. Her blood work came back clear, and for the most part, her vitals are stable. With a few weeks of physio, I think we would be able to discharge her. Ideally, she could go home this week.”

“Wonderful,” Johnny’s hollow cheer guides his hasty movements as he, unthinking, strips you of your blanket to reveal a sight he thinks might change his mind. Rows of red line your skin, moons of dried blood covering the heels of your palms. He cringes at the dirty cotton cuffs that strap you to the metal frame of your hospital bed. Johnny can’t seem to make sense of the sight. “Did this happen during the shooting?”

“No, Mr Seo,” the doctor shakes his head, his frustration with his patient’s only living relative shedding every second he watches Johnny take in your limp frame. “It is like I was saying. Miss Seo is fit enough to leave. But mentally-”

Johnny simply raises his palm, ignoring the tears that pool in and out the corners of your eyes, a steady stream gathering in your hairline as you relive the events the two refer to so flippantly. “She will do better at home.” It is unclear for whom the assurance is intended. The doctor, you, himself. It is all just hope. So it doesn’t matter. “She will do better once she’s home.”

“Mr Seo, as your sister’s physician, I must implore you to reconsider.” Johnny understands where the doctor is coming from, he truly does. Johnny, taught well by his father, prides himself in being understanding. Like his father before him, Johnny prides himself in being calm in the face of not only danger, but regular folk - those who go about their lives, slaves to normalcy. Those who live life year to year, those who plan their lives, who wake up to sleep, expecting to see the sun once again. Those who consider life a right, rather than a privilege. Johnny has come to understand men like this. Not by choice of course, but because he had to. Especially once you met Taeyong.

2,109 days

“I met a guy today,” the words crackle through the phone, Johnny’s fingers stilling as he finally takes a break from his work, placing a mental bookmark on his train of thought. He wants to ask where, but he doesn’t enjoy seeming interested in affairs of the heart. They sicken him. “He was really weird,” you hum as you kick the curb, swinging your arms as you traipse through what Johnny thinks must be your university campus. He pretends he bother to know your schedule, but never has a reason for why he always gets himself up before you leave every morning. “A good weird,” you add, “his clothes hardly fit, they were all baggy. It’s hard to explain.”

“You kids and your trends,” he huffs, spinning in his chair to watch the city, eyes landing on the bell tower of your campus. “What happened to a nicely fitted suit?”

“It’s a college campus, John. Plus, it’s like half ten in the morning,” you can hear his next question before he even asks. “I mentioned his clothes because I wanted you to envision him, not judge him.”

“Well, I am envisioning a bum.”

“Okay, but envision a cute bum,” you try. “A beautiful, cute, funny bum.”

“That is still a bum, y/n.” You hear the faint sound of floor boards creaking, a telltale sign that he’s pacing. “Did he ask you out?” You hum in agreement, always too shy to admit anything so personal outright. It is times like this he wonders why you bother calling him and not just Haechan. He’ll never tell you this however. Lest he lose his spot as your first call. “I hope ope he’s taking you somewhere nice?”

“Yeah, of course,” he knows you’re lying. He knows it’s Hyuck’s you're both going to. Not that there as an issue with Hyuck’s. Even if you’ve already had the menu four different ways, front to back and then back again. It’s where you take all your first dates, you give Haechan a chance to size them up, figure out if they’re worthy. “I just wanted to tell you first because I think he’s a real contender this time.”

“And you’ll be late home, so you won’t be making dinner again?” Your affirming grunt forced a long sigh from Johnny. However, no matter many times he claimed his annoyance was due to your absence inconveniencing him; you both knew the loneliness bothered him now. “Well, have fun.”

“I’ll try,” you sing. “And I’ll bring that coffee cake you love so much, okay?” Johnny offers his own affirming grunt. Though it sits a couple octaves below your own, you hear the sliver of joy he lets through. “Love you.”

He doesn’t respond. He had already hung up.

300 days

“Mr Seo?”

Johnny had finally shrugged off his suit jacket and let his shoulders sag when he heard his name for the umpteenth time that day. He wanta to ignore it, but what would mother say?

“Yes?” SMPA. The badge is hard to read as it glistens under the glaring hospital lights. But he can’t miss the shape, the obnoxious insignia.

“Good evening,” the detective starts, his smiling eyes are in direct contrast to the gloom and doom of the last few days. Johnny wonders if smiling with teeth is proper practice when greeting someone who almost lost their little sister. “I am Detective Lee, I have a few questions for you about the shooting at Hyuck’s Diner. If you have a moment.”

“Of course,” he sighs, straightening his spine. “I am sure you are aware, but I wasn’t there.”

“I think it’s lucky you weren’t,” the detective adds, a sad smile settling on the bed to your right. “I am a friend of Donghyuck’s.”

“Oh,” there’s a short second where Johnny feels an odd sense of comfort, one he believed would only come when you finally opened your eyes. He also feels some guilt. “I didn’t know he had any other friends in Seoul, I tried to reach everyone I could.”

“And thank you for that,” the detective lets his eyes fall on his friend’s unmoving figure for a moment, his gaze returning to Johnny when he feels a familiar prick. “I have been hard at work on this case. I received word you did not wish for your sister to remain in hospital. May I ask why?”

“It is a public hospital,” Johnny responds, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I can afford better.”

“Then why did you let her stay?” The detective asks, scribbling away. Johnny wonders what dictates the parameters of an investigation versus a friendly conversation. “Her psych eval?”

“No,” he sighs, eyeing Haechan to your right. “They wouldn’t let me take him too,” when the detective tilts his head, surprise evident in his round eyes, Johnny lets himself laugh for the first time in over a week. “You wouldn’t want to be me when she wakes up to find I left him behind.”

2,361 days

It is past midnight when you fly into Johnny’s bedroom, a dew gathering on your forehead, chin and neck. In his sleepy haze, he hears only the end of your ramblings, your steps ordered in a manner Johnny can only describe as frantic. It is not in his nature to panic, he leaves such trivialities to you. But when your wide eyes find his, fear brimming as you scramble to get ready, you throw him your phone and he finally sees why.

“There are a bunch of guys who won’t pay up at Hyuck’s and he’s scared. Let’s go.”

That’s how Johnny found himself parked outside Hyuck’s Diner in downtown Seoul, just north of the river. You didn’t give him a chance to park up as you dashed out the still moving vehicle, door left wide open. Johnny is thankful it’s late, but quickly notes it being far too late for Hyuck’s to still be open. As he parks up, he watches you storm into the near empty diner, sees the relief on Haechan’s tired face as you round the bar. Johnny can’t really make out what you’re saying, but he can see the fire in your eyes. He sniggers as he stalks after you, seeing his mother in them too.

“I said, pay up, or give it back.”

“That’s funny,” one of the burly men says, food spitting out his mouth and onto the clean bar top as he laughs in your face. While Johnny only counted two from outside, he can now see a third standing off to the side. When his eyes meet Johnny’s, he falters slightly, thick hands running through his hair as he avoids Johnny’s haunting figure hovering by the only exit. “Who exactly is gonna make us?”

“Me,” you grin, reaching for the back of his head and slamming it hard down onto the bar. You hear Haechan yelp in what you assume is fear for his newly polished, now dented bar top. As the guy to his left lunges at you, you’re quick to utilise your surroundings. Johnny almost applauds your ingenuity as you quickly reach for a used butter knife and practically mutilate the man’s fist. It is then Haechan disappears from your side, his head nearly halfway down the drain pipe as blood splurts onto his newly polished, now dented, now blood stained bar top. The first guy had rounded the bar, only to be met with a fist to the throat, and knee to the gut. Johnny sees you’re expecting something to happen as you repeat the motion before seeing sense. With your hand latched to his collar, you drag his doubled over body out onto the street before you knee him again.

In the middle of the intersection pours his unpaid bill, meeting one end of the deal. Johnny laughs at how visibly dissatisfies you are, considering how long their bill actually was. You fish his wallet out of his back pocket, taking a few hundreds to cover the balance. “Who even carries cash anymore?”

Johnny wonders too as you pass by him, walking back inside and turning on the third guy. “Your friend covered yours, so you’re free to go.” As he scrambles to leave, he keeps his eyes fixed on your brother, halting when Johnny moves to stop him, a lone finger pointing toward the man's weeping companion.

“Take them with you.”

It’s a few seconds before their presence is no more than a distant memory. Johnny is quick to clean the bloody bar top, and rearrange the furniture. He even loads the dishwasher as you tend to a still queasy Haechan. “When I text you, I didn’t think you would do all of that,” he huffs, backtracking as he notes the hurt look in your eyes. “I mean, I am so grateful. Really, I am,” he smirks, fatigue stealing the light that usually fills his eyes. “But I didn’t know you were The fucking Bride.” When you roll your eyes, he presses on, glimpses of his usual self slowly return as the adrenaline begins to kick in. “No, honestly! I wish I had cameras in here because- fuck! That was insane!”

“Alright, whatever. Get your things, you’re staying with us tonight.”

“Do you think they’ll come back?” Haechan asks, the worry in his tone hurting you beyond belief. “Do you think I should call Mark again?”

“Who, the cop? No, they won’t be coming back, trust me,” you hum. When Johnny emerges from the back, drying his hands on a clean rag, you jest, “no thanks to angel eyes over there may I add.”

“Oh my god, hyung! And you!” Haechan restarts, allowing you to pack up his things while he recounts the terror in the third man’s gaze as he locked eyes with your brother. “It’s like he saw a ghost or something.”

“Yeah,” you laugh, grabbing Haechan while Johnny locks up. “Or something.”

It’s nearly dawn when Haechan crashes. It was Monday and he needed to find cover for the open. But getting cover didn’t stop him fretting, and no amount of herbal tea nor booze could settle a frantic Haechan. It is laughable though, how it took no more than a film opening to send him off. You slip away at sunrise, snuggling up to Johnny who gave up on sending you away shortly after your parents passed. However, he still makes sure to express his disdain for the affection.

“At least stick to your side, y/n-”

“Thank you for coming tonight,” you breathe, clearly uninterested in satisfying his request. “I know you have to be up soon, and I’m sorry. But having you there was- yeah. Thank you.”

For the first time in years, Johnny lets you snuggle with him. An hour later, for the first time ever, Johnny lets Haechan do the same. He fears that this might become a pattern, the two of you craving so much affection it might suffocate him. Johnny knows it just might, but has found peace in that. Much like he has found peace in your insistence that Haechan be one of you. Because he is one of you, he too left orphaned at a young age, you took him under your wing. So much like that day, as Johnny falls asleep to the sound of your light snores, he also decides-

300 days

“He’s family.”

“He speaks so highly of you both,” Mark adds, smiling thankfully at your sleeping frame. “But I’m sure he would forgive you for doing what’s best for her.”

“She wouldn’t.” Johnny adds, though a part of him knows he might have trouble forgiving himself.

“What is it you do for a living?” Mark asks, eyes quickly scanning Johnny’s crisp suit. “I can’t say I recall Hyuck ever mentioning it.”

“A bit of this and that,” he jokes, glancing towards you. “That’s what she calls it.” He hates the melancholic tone he has adopted. It is pitiful. “After our parents passed, I took over their pharmaceuticals company just after I turned twenty-one. We dabble in everything; medicine, cosmeceuticals, nutrition, you name it.”

“That must keep you busy.”

“I work from home,” Johnny knows he is being foolish, trying to falsely place an accusation in Mark’s assumption. Johnny knows he fell into the classic trope of throwing himself into his studies, and then his work, just to avoid the harsh reality that his parents were gone and they were never coming back. He would readily admit he abandoned you in the beginning to grieve on your own, to figure it all out on your own. He just wouldn’t take that from a stranger. “I tried to be around for her as much as I could.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Mark’s smile is kind, full of unfiltered sympathy. Johnny wonders if you have to practice such a thing, and if so, whether someone should have the doctors do the same. “I just wonder if you are wearing yourself thin is all.”

“You needn’t worry about such things Detective.” Johnny reminds, drawing the line between the two so simply, his eyes flicking slowly to Mark’s badge. “Worry about the case.”

“Of course,” Mark rushes, scrambling to defend his statement. “I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

“And I you,” when the doctor enters to take both yours and Haechan’s vitals, he greets Mark warmly. Johnny feels no resentment to this warm reception, none whatsoever. But he can’t help but wonder what about him denies him the same warm greeting. He is quickly reminded of the first time he was to meet Taeyong.

1,977 days

“Your knees are shaking the counter, hyung,” Haechan sniggers. He knows he shouldn’t, he does. But he can’t help but bask in his friend’s nerves. How can the coldest man he knows be so scared to meet his sister’s boyfriend. As calm and collected as he behaves, Haechan is no stranger to worry, and it worries him to no end how the evening will go. From what he has heard from you, Taeyong is as nervous as one can be. And yet, your main concern lies in how your brother will react, and Haechan is an empathetic soul. He just knows he will feel it all. “Your vibe is really killing the mood, lighten up.”

“Shut up, kid.” Johnny warns, eyeing his watch every so often. “They’re late.”

Strike one.

“You know what y/n is like, she’s probably trying to talk him out of it.” Haechan notes how innocent Johnny looks with his head tilted, confusion bleeding into his features. “You are pretty scary hyung, maybe she thinks you’m scare him off.”

“Maybe he isn’t worthy then.”

Strike two.

“Or,” Haechan sings, adjusting his embroidered apron, Hyuck’s opening anniversary gift from the very man he is about to berate. “Maybe you’re not ready to watch your sister grow up, so you sabotage everything with your scary eyes and bad vibes,” Haechan shrugs with his chin in his palm, blinking sweetly at Johnny who resists the urge to flick his forehead.

“Don’t you have coffee to go pour?”

Haechan sniggers once more as he does just that, refilling Johnny’s coffee and shrugging. “Or maybe they’re stuck in traffic.”

So he can’t fly?

Strike three.

300 days

After a few hours, Mark returns for a detailed description of the three men he suspects may be involved in the shooting. Johnny says as much as he can recall, even going as far as to emphasise the detective’s lack of involvement. He suspects it is in direct retaliation to his earlier comment and ignores it, though Johnny quickly sees his own guilt reflected back in the detective’s guilt ridden eyes. “Will that be all?”

“Almost-” Mark starts, before glancing over at you. “I just,” he can’t seem to push past the lump in his throat. Johnny has given him everything he knows, that much is true. But after speaking with the doctor, Mark can’t help but wonder. “Why haven’t you tried speaking to her? Doctor Kim said she may respond well to a familiar voice.”

“I’m not sure what to say.”

Mark knows it’s a loaded statement. One dripping in regret, in guilt, and in shame. But Mark can’t afford for Johnny to be ashamed. Not with Haechan lying unconscious as you lie there, reliving that day over and over and over again. Mark needs you to wake up. But Mark also swore to never relinquish his compassion. All Mark knows of you is the stories he’s heard through Haechan. Though some have a rosier hue due to his familiarity with you, Mark is sure there is no exaggeration in your case. You are a good person. One who cares deeply, who loves deeply. Mark thinks those parts of you are the ones Johnny can tap into. He just won’t.

“Haechan was my first friend in Korea. When I moved here as a kid, my parents worked at the orphanage he was at. He made fun of my Korean for a year straight before I could finally understand and speak fluently enough to defend myself. But, I guess it was okay, you know? He was helping all the same. I was a scrawny kid, I used to get picked on a lot. He was always there. Even though he got beat up too. He’s in all my earliest- my best memories. growing up. He’s like my brother. If he was awake, I think I’d-”

“But he isn’t,” Johnny reminds, eyes locked on your sunken face. Johnny knows what Mark is doing, he knows the tactic very well. He is quite acquainted with guilt as a form of persuasion. “He’s not awake, detective. The doctor said he doesn’t know if he will ever wake up. You know, I overheard the doctors say they haven’t seen spinal fractures that severe in their fifty years of combined experience. They said if Haechan ever opens his eyes again it will be a miracle. If he walks again? This hospital would be internationally renowned. Those surgeons would be infamous. But they can’t. They can’t so it. They can’t do it because they don’t have the facilities for such an operation, and even if they did, Hyuck couldn’t afford it. Even if he could afford it, y/n would have to wake up and give them the okay, because this idiot made herself his guardian so he could practically sell his soul for the loan for that fucking diner.

“So, I’m sorry, detective. I’m sorry that the only thing standing between you ever seeing your friend again is my selfish sister.”

“Mr Seo-”

“But you must agree, she is selfish. She thinks she’s the only one hurting, the only one who has lost something, lost someone.” Mark only sees what Johnny is doing a few seconds too late. As Johnny raises a lone finger to his lips, his eyes catching on the stream pouring down your temples. Mark’s heart nearly beats out of his chest as your vital signs begin to whir, the machinery at your bedside coming to life as Johnny reminds you that, “people die every day. Our parents, Hyuck’s parents, and now Taeyong-”

“Don’t!” You scream suddenly, your body nearly thrashing off of the bed. Johnny fears the force with which you rise could snap your arms in two, but nothing is more worrisome than the bloody red rimming your crisp white eyes; the visible and painfully rapid rise and fall of your chest; the tremor in your chapped lips. “Don’t! Please! Please don’t say it-”

Johnny had never moved so fast. His hands clinging to your trembling frame as he stroked the back of your head. He chanted quickly in your ear, pleading with you to stay with him as he promises to stay. “I won’t go anywhere, I won’t leave you. Never. I promise. Just please, stay with me, okay? I need you here, Hyuck- Hyuck needs you, okay? I need you to stay with me, we’re all we have. Please, y/n-”

Mark couldn’t help but feel intrusive. His earlier pushing began to feel filthy, unfair, unjust. But how could he know you were this far gone, this distraught. Nothing is more sickening than the soft, croaky ‘yes’ that spills from your lips. Your bloodshot eyes lingering on his frozen frame before you see Haechan. You tremble again, your body nearly convulsing as you recognise the boy beside you.

“Shh, he’ll be okay- I promise- we’ll get him help. I promise you- we’ll be okay.”

Johnny rarely spoke out of hope. He was a man who would cling so tightly to reality, you would sometimes joke that his knuckles would snap from the pressure. But as he holds you tightly in his arms, rocking your hollow frame back and forth, he realises he has nothing more than hope.

But since when has hope ever been enough?

#here we fooking gooooooo #matryoshka #ncitygirls #johnny seo #johnny seo angst #haechan #haechan angst #mark lee #mark lee angst #taeyong #taeyong angst #nct mark angst #nct angst #nct 127 angst #nct crime au #nct au #fuck tagging lol bye

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starrysebastians · 5 years

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painkillers and something more [one shot]

pairing : bucky barnes x reader

summary : lingering glances and subtle touches are fine, but all it takes is a little injury to turn whatever this is into something more

a/n : listen this one shot wasn't planned but i'm on antibiotics and painkillers right now and instead of letting myself die i wrote this . so basically hurt and comfort and fluff to end my suffering (mentions of injury)

word count : 1.8k

When the end credits of the movie he was watching ended and he didn't have the will to get up from his comfy position on the couch to grab the other remote and turn the TV off, so James Barnes is currently facing a beaming blue screen — has been for at least a whole hour. It makes a buzzing sound he has now gotten used to, because he kinda likes having a background noise to avoid facing the deep and abyssal silence being awake in the middle of the night always brings. Tonight wasn't particularly plagued with nightmares, but the previous ones, and months of recons and missions have messed up his sleeping schedule enough for him to finally take Sam's advice and watch the numerous movies he recommended him to catch-up on the 21st century culture.

His eyes are now focused on a book, one he found lying on a table, the bookmark next to it rather than in between the pages so he figured the person reading it was done. There's a shuffling coming from the hall that makes him perk up, the book closing on the finger he put between the pages.

Muffled voices, a groan, and it's getting closer.

"C'mon, let's get you on the couch. I'll get you your meds." Bucky identifies it as Sam's voice, although it is softer than it usually is when he's joking around, lighter than it is over the coms during a mission. It has the same he uses when he tries to comfort someone after innocent bystanders were a mission's collateral damages, or when Wanda has a nightmares. "Here."

The ceiling lamp flickers on, making the little reading lamp next to Bucky's couch useless. Even when he is wide awake, he usually likes staying in the dark when it's nighttime. It helps with schedules and not getting completely disoriented, seeing the sky go from purple and pink to dark blue splattered in white dots to soft orange and light blue. Artificial lightning all night long just messes with your mind.

Shifting in his seat so that he can turn his head and observe the hall leading to the living room — more like a living floor, by the way, he frowns upon you and Sam. Rather, Sam holding you by the waist, walking ever so slowly as if you were gonna collapse as soon as he let you go. Bucky stands up straighter, a million questions popping up in his head — were you on a mission? no, you had one that lasted longer than usual because Fury needed you and you returned two weeks ago, and all you did the past few days was help run recon, collect intel… nothing to get hurt over.

He and Sam share a look, and he's not quite sure what that expression on his face is.

"Here. Just lie down," Sam says with his soft voice again as you tumble on the couch, hands on the leather to steady you as you try and lay down as gently as possible. "I'll be right back." Another pointed look at Bucky, and this time he slowly rises from his seat, taking two hesitant steps.

It's not that you and him are not close — in fact, he would say you're one of the persons he likes the most here. You work with SHIELD, but also with them, it depends on the missions and he likes how you're free to work with any organisation you like. You're independent, and not often in the compound. He enjoys watching you work and fight because you're so skilled it's impressive for a normal, non-enhanced human being, but maybe it's just everything about you he deems worthy of being stared at all day long.

There has been different moments shared. Unwinding times in comfortable silence and missions aftermaths, bundled up in soft blankets in the living room or numbly sitting in the quinjet as it flew back towards the compound. Briefing sessions, some with too many things at stake to share a joke, others where you both shared smirks and twinkling looks. One where you accidentally bumped your leg against his, that time Steve was explaining how you were going to take down a weapon-dealing business, which is a pretty easy task for all of you, and you decided your leg was going to stay right here. You even made the wise decision of hooking your feet around his leg, the warmth emitting from your tangled legs making Bucky bite his lip in order to stop a smile from breaking out on his face. You didn't hide yours.

There are also times when you don't get to bump into each other for months. Exhausting months when you both are on missions, deep down undercover — especially you, because the winter soldier's face, albeit masks and tricks existing, is well-known, contrary to yours which has been well-protected by every intelligence agency you have served. During those months, sometimes you're scared he's going to forget about you and your fleeting glances ; he's scared you're too busy with work for him to ever cross your mind. And you never really talk, you both just flirt and smirk and wink and sometimes it feels like it has to evolve into something more, but it has always been enough.

But you're currently moaning from pain on the couch right next to him and his face hurts from frowning so hard.

"Hey, what's going on?"

Another two steps (strides) towards you, a hesitant hand hovering next to you, not knowing where to go to provide comfort without hurting you further. You turn your head toward the sound of his voice, painfully, and squint as if everything was blurry.

"Hi," you drawl out, a lazy smile on your face. "I missed you."

A flutter in the stomach, a soft and content sigh.

"I missed you too. What happened? I thought you didn't have any mission coming up?"

"I didn't," you say and he frowns. "Remember that undercover mission where I got shot last month?" He nods and you wince before continuing. His gaze falls on your hip, because he remembers that gunshot, a bit too well. "Well, maybe I didn't really follow the doctor's orders. I mean, I did. I just got back to work too early. But it wasn't that deep. Like a flesh wound. But, anyway." Another wince. "Turns out it got a little infected. So I'm back on antibiotics and painkillers for a week."

It physically hurts him too, to see your glazed and glossy eyes, constant frown and lips turned downwards, but he still chuckles at your rambling, and the fact that you couldn't stand to stay on bed rest for more than two days. He crouches down next to you, pushing a strand of hair out of your eyes because you've been trying to get rid off it for the past minute by blowing air on it, but it just doesn't work.

"Yeah well please try and listen, next time," Sam's voice is back, and you just know he rolled his eyes. The sound of boxes and a glass clinking against the table can be heard, and he lays a hand on Bucky's shoulder. "Here's the doctor's prescription. Antibiotics, painkillers, water. She probably won't sleep tonight." He crouches down too, a hand resting on her forearm. "I'm gonna let Tin Man here keep you company, alright? If I don't wake up for training tomorrow, Steve is gonna have my head."

You hum distractedly as you watch Bucky fumble with the prescription and meticulously prepare your pills, tongue stuck out as his blue eyes are squinted. Cleaning out his weapons probably doesn't require as much attention and care, and you can't help but laugh at his expression. A super-soldier, being able to aim at an enemy's head without even sparing him a glance, but putting so much effort into getting your meds right, and it makes your chest swell with something you can't quite place, but it's warm, definitely warm. Burning. He perks up at the sound of your laugh, only to send you a glare, and then a few seconds later he proudly hands you the right amount of pills.

"Thank you," you say with a smile, a hand lingering a bit too long on his skin. He helps you get propped up against the cosy and snug cushions and while you take your meds, he's busy finding you a soft and fluffy blanket, resting it on top of you.

"Here." He's sitting next to you again, leaning more and more every time you let a groan escape your lips.

"Would you mind knocking me off so I can sleep?"

An amused chuckle but a fond movement of the head, from left to right.

"You weren't sleeping?" You talk again.

He shakes his head again. "Nah. I was catching up on Sam's movie recommendation list."

"Can you put something on?"

It takes you ten minutes to decide on Blade Runner, and in fear of hurting you, he slides down against the couch again, his head thrown back a little and you can see his face if you look down, the colors displayed on the TV screen dancing across his soft and tired features. He's just so pretty.

You extend your left arm, and it is dangling from the couch, fingers softly brushing Bucky's shoulders. Scratching his neck, his ear. Running through his shiny locks, the smell of his shampoo invading your senses. He cranes his neck backwards to get a better look at you, and he notices your smile and the glinting in your eyes from upside down. You hum as his flesh hand grab yours, thumb stroking your skin. He lets it rest on his shoulder again, putting his attention back to the movie playing in front of him.

It takes another twenty minutes of gentle fingers running on his skin, insistent staring at his neck, back muscles, hair and shoulders, for you to talk again, painkillers having kicked in.

"Please come and lie with me. You're not gonna hurt me," your voice can't compete with the fight scene on screen, but you're leaning right next to his ear, and if he doesn't move for a second, he certainly heard you. "Hold me?"

This is the something more you have both been yearning for. There wasn't any moment that was right before, but this one is.

It takes a few minutes for the two of you to find a position that doesn't hurt your hip, lots of groans and painful winces. But then you're lying between his legs, back resting against his toned abdomen, head nestled in the crook of his neck with strands probably tickling his skin but he doesn't say anything because he likes the smell of your shampoo too, and he's warmer than the blanket.

That something more, the next step in a dynamic based on small smiles across the quinjet and subtly tangled legs, is going to have to wait until you don't have to ingest the highest dose of painkillers humanly possible to move without wincing, but it is there. Hanging in the air, waiting to be seized. In the way Bucky holds you, runs the back of his flesh hand up and down your arm, and softly kisses your neck.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes one shot #marvel one shot #hurt/comfort one shot #bucky barnes fluff

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rikotin · 4 years

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I’m back with some good old, Isak-centered Evak 💛 Read it on AO3 from the link, or right here on tumblr from under the cut!

Summary:

It was the heaviness of his head and the lead-like bones in his body, that really gave away the lack of rest, every part of his body screaming in exhaustion as he lifted his torso off of the bed and reached for the phone on the nightstand. He squinted his eyes against the brightness of the phone screen, as it almost violently replaced the darkness despite the orange toned night mode he’d permanently switched on.

4:58

or: Another night of insomnia playing its tricks on Isak.

Om kvelden når det mørkner og alle går til ro

As Isak opened his eyes, he was met with darkness. Only a tiny gleam of the street lights outside made its way into the room from the side of a roll-up curtain, painting a thin sliver of the wall across him yellow. It was so quiet, the city still sleeping as the night was yet to turn to dawn, only soft and slow snuffles from his side filling the room along with his own breathing.

He didn’t really need to check the time to know it was way too early, and that he had slept way too little, but he rolled over anyway. It was the heaviness of his head and the lead-like bones in his body, that really gave away the lack of rest, every part of his body screaming in exhaustion as he lifted his torso off of the bed and reached for the phone on the nightstand. He squinted his eyes against the brightness of the phone screen, as it almost violently replaced the darkness despite the orange toned night mode he’d permanently switched on.

4:58

Isak dropped the hand holding his phone and let his upper body slump back against the bed, his head landing on his cool pillow. He sighed and nuzzled his nose against the soft pillow case, but despite feeling very much comfortable, he kept looking at the wall, following the edge of the small pillar of street lights with his gaze, and let out a frustrated sigh.

He had only managed to fall asleep under two hours ago, as the last time he checked the clock was at 02:55 and despite the tired heaviness of his body, his mind was already racing, meaning that was all the sleep he’d get tonight.

It was nothing new, really. He’d been struggling with his sleeping habits ever since he was 16, but over the years, the problems had come and gone, irregular enough for him not to pay too much mind to it, but regular enough they left him frustrated and worn out every time it happened. Not only did it mess up his routines and make his moods bounce all over the place, it also started feeding the vicious circle of worrying about the next night’s sleep, the anxiety of it making it then even harder to get a good night’s rest.

He had gone to see a doctor about it, several times, but nothing so far had been a magic remedy – the different pills would always break the cycle and help him catch some well needed sleep. And after he would finally be confident enough to slowly leave the pills out, he’d always be content for some time, several months even.

But then, after months of good sleep and no problems, something would happen that made him dive right back into the restless nights which left him exhausted - mentally and physically. So far, he’d recognized that anytime there was something big going on in his life, something that stressed him out more than usual or something that was a big change, he’d always react by… Well, not sleeping.

He’d been told that it was normal for sleep to be interrupted by things like that, by things that weighed on the mind. And that he’d fall back into the regular rhythm by talking about his worries and troubles to the people around him and maybe to a psychologist. By getting the proper medication. By writing lists of things he found troubling. By making sure he’d go to bed at the same time every evening and get up at the same time every morning. By checking whether the temperature of the room was not too warm and that the bed he was sleeping in was ergonomic. By making sure the room was dark and he wouldn’t be interrupted by noises during the night. By using lavender incense. By exercising more. By not eating too much carbs in the evening. By drinking chamomile tea to relax. By meditating. By not using his phone or computer for two hours before sleeping. By this and that and those.

Slowly, he started hating the smell of lavender and gagging at the taste of chamomile. He still got bored out of his mind by sitting down to meditate for 15 minutes everyday, but was stubborn enough to keep it up. He was able to get through four books a week after abandoning his phone in the evenings, and was still going to bed at 22 and getting up at 7 every single day. He also used a fortune on the new – extremely comfortable – bed he had been kind of dreaming about for a while, his sleeping problems only working as an excuse for him to buy it with Even.

And it wasn’t fucking helping.

Really, Isak was neither surprised that he had slipped back into having troubles with falling asleep lately, nor that he was now awake at stupid o’clock, unable to fall back asleep. He had just finished a bunch of exams and deadlines as well as applied for several promising jobs, and was now free of his responsibilities. All of his exams had gone relatively well and the ones that didn’t he wasn’t too worried about, as he was pretty sure he had managed to scramble through them well enough to still pass. All of the places he’d applied to for a job were his thing, and after taking the time to really craft applications he was happy with, he was confident he’d score at least an interview at a place or two.

Almost miraculously, during the studying and applying, he’d slept fine, and the freetime he now had on his hands was more than welcome. So it was a win-win scenario, many would say. But not for him, apparently. Instead, now that he was finally finished with what was essentially weeks worth of immense stress, his brain took the sudden shift – from being constantly on the edge of a nervous breakdown to being free as a bird – as too big of a change, which left him lying awake with barely two hours of restless sleep.

After rolling around for a good half an hour, he finally gave up and sat up, flicking on his small table lamp, the bulb casting a warm and dim light into the room. He glanced over his shoulder at Even, and turned the light a bit so he was sure to block it from shining straight into Even’s face. Isak reached into the drawer of his bedside table, and pulled out the book he’d reluctantly put down earlier that night. It had been a rather slow story so far, but as the book was a thriller, it had swallowed him whole and now, over halfway through the book, the story was sure to get its turning point very soon. He didn’t compromise his routines due to a book, of course, and did go to bed at the same time as always – but as predicted, he had gotten back up after half an hour of trying to play sleepy and continued reading. And then he repeated the process for who knows how many times before actually falling asleep, only to be awake again now.

He put his pillow behind his back for support, and as he got comfortable against it he glanced at Even again, this time looking at him long enough to register his current position, and stifled a snort: instead of his boyfriend, the other side of the bed seemed to be taken over by a huge knotted mess of limbs and bed sheets. Isak reached out to lift a corner of the duvet and there Even was, hair messily sticking out from the top of his head. Carefully, Isak pushed one loose lock away from Even’s forehead, earning a silent snuffle from his boyfriend. He smiled softly, relaxing back against his pillow and keeping his eyes on Even, examining his face.

Even looked so relaxed and peaceful that usually, Isak would have been envious – downright jealous, even – for the sleep he was able to get while Isak spent yet another night tossing and turning and doing anything but sleeping. This time though, he only felt relief, as Even had had his fair share of shitty nights over the last couple of weeks, and the dark shadows under his eyes were glaring evidence of that. Isak sighed, biting his lip and briefly wondered if he could have done something differently to help Even, the guilt making its way to the surface ever so easily when the exhaustion weighed his limbs and fogged his ability to think rationally. He was well aware of the fact that he had been rather snappy and difficult despite doing his best to contain it. Then again, Even had been sluggish and whiny despite trying his best, so it had been a doomed effort right off the bat to live like they hadn’t both had the worst week in a long time.

It was good to see that one of them finally got the sleep he deserved.

Isak sighed and reached for his book once more. He opened it from where he had closed it, the page marked with a neat, silver metal bookmark Even had proudly presented him with about a month back, after being absolutely horrified with Isak’s habit of leaving dog ears on book pages. The bookmark had a little charm dangling on it, shaped and coloured to be a red snapback. Isak didn’t really wear snapbacks anymore; however, the sentimental value they held and the fact that Even had chosen it for him because it reminded him of Isak had made him a little soft inside. Still did.

Isak placed the bookmark on the table and straightened his back a bit and continued reading. The shuffle of the pages when he turned them had become a soothing sound for him, and he felt himself relax little by little as he ran his fingers across the smooth paper, flipping page after page after page, the story – despite the suspension and twists in it – feeling like a safe haven in the middle of the deep and intimidating sea of thoughts for his tired mind.

Isak startled when the bed shifted suddenly, and turned his gaze to Even who was now blinking against the reading light, squinting and rubbing his eyes.

“You’re awake.”

Even’s voice was groggy and heavy with sleep and his hair messily pointed in all directions rather endearingly. Isak huffed softly at the sight.

“Hmm, yeah.”

“What time is it?”

Isak cringed, unable to help himself, and turned his gaze back to the pages, not really registering the words in front of him as he did.

“One should absolutely be asleep o’clock,” he mumbled, with a strain in his voice, not bothering to mask his disappointment – not sure towards what, though. Probably at himself, even if Even always had the patience to remind him it was not something he could control.

“Shit, it is huh…” Even yawned widely and snuggled a little bit closer, pressing his face against Isak’s thigh. “Have you slept at all?”

“A little.”

“Did you try falling asleep again?”

Isak shot a look at Even who grimaced immediately, reaching a hand out and pressing his palm on Isak’s bare back and making little circles with his thumb.

“Sorry, that was a dumb thing to ask.”

“Yeah, it was,” Isak sighed, giving up on the book in his hands, and picked up the bookmark from the table. He carefully placed it in between the pages before he closed the book and slid it back onto the table next to him. “It’s fine, though.”

“No, it’s not,” Even said right away. “Sorry. I know it’s difficult for you. I should’ve been more considerate.”

Even’s hand came to a halt on Isak’s back. As Isak turned back to him, the expression on Even’s face was very serious despite the obvious sleepiness, but also made him look like a kicked puppy at the same time.

“Even, it’s fi–”

“No. I’m sorry,” Even insisted again, keeping his eyes locked with Isak’s. The grogginess paired with stubborness made him sound almost childlike, and Isak couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. He reached out to gently brush his fingers over Even’s cheek, who tilted his head a bit to press his cheek against Isak’s cupped hand and then turned it a bit to give a small peck on his fingers. Isak chuckled.

“It’s okay. We can blame it on sleep talking.”

Even quirked a brow and straightened up a bit – as best as he could while still laying on his side – and an amused smile appeared on his lips. It reminded Isak all over again how much he liked that smile, and how much he had missed it in the past weeks.

“Sleep talking?” Even asked, his hand on Isak’s back dropping against the mattress with a muffled thud. Isak nodded.

“Yeah. Sometimes one can appear completely awake and talk like normal, but the words and sentences make no sense as the person is actually sleepwalking and dreaming. And, hence, sleep talking ,” he said and leaned a bit more against the pillows, letting his head fall back against the wall. “You do say nonsense while wide awake, too, though. That Gabrielle does the best pop music. That my tea tastes like wet leaves and piss.”

Isak tried to keep a straight face but his efforts crashed and burned when he burst out laughing when Even presented him with an extremely exaggerated eye roll.

“Whatever. That tea of yours really tastes like wet leaves and piss, though,” Even scoffed and laughed as well. Isak scrunched up his nose little, before he sighed, his laugh toeing the line of hysterical.

“It really fucking does, doesn’t it? It’s so bad.”

Even snickered and poked Isak’s side, making him jump with a yelp. He glared at Even, but even in the teasing look in Even’s eyes, he could also see a hint of empathy before Even rolled over to his back, yawning into his fist before rubbing his eyes.

“Can I, like... help you? In some way?” Even asked carefully as he tucked his arms under his head and turned to stare at the ceiling, a little frown forming on his face. Isak knew that face – it was the one Even wore when he was desperate to solve a dilemma that was outside of his understanding. Isak had seen it multiple times when Even was working on his school projects and got stuck, but really couldn’t figure how he felt when the face was so obviously directed at him.

Isak sighed and scratched his cheek, shrugging.

“Probably not.”

“Are you sure?” Even asked, sounding a little disappointed as he glanced at Isak with a purse of his lips. Isak could see it troubled Even that he was not being able to do anything for Isak to make it easier. And Isak really loved his boyfriend to bits as he was always ready to do anything he could to ensure Isak’s happiness, but he also felt very bad when he knew there was really nothing that Even could help. He looked down at his hands, and mumbled almost inarticulately: “Yeah. Sorry.”

It must’ve come across a little wobbly, as Even sat up immediately and pulled Isak into a bit of an awkward half hug.

“Hey, it’s okay. I just worry, that’s all.”

Isak nodded and leaned his head against Even’s shoulder despite the challenging angle, a sudden need of being close and cared for washing over him. Almost like reading his thoughts, Even let go of him, slid back down on his back and reached an arm out as an invite.

“Come here.”

Isak turned off the light on the bedside table and crawled back under the covers, making sure to plaster himself against Even, not an inch between them. Even shuffled a bit so Isak could rest his head on his shoulder. Isak felt an arm circling around his back and kiss in his hair, followed by a sound of a loud yawn.

“Sorry I woke you up,” he whispered and closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth and familiar scent of his boyfriend enveloping him as he hid his nose to the curve of Even’s neck. Even hummed, and Isak could hear it in his voice that Even was well on his way back to the slumber.

“Hmm, ‘s fine. How are you feeling?”

“Not sleepy. But it’s good here.”

“What is?”

“Being here, next to you,” Isak responded, feeling a lot more comfortable and content than just a while ago. “Not alone.”

He tilted his face up and blindly placed a kiss on Even’s face, aiming at Even’s lips but only reaching far enough for the peck to reach his jaw.

“You missed by a mile,” Even mumbled, his words coming out a bit slurred with sleep. Isak huffed.

“Go to sleep, you sound drunk.”

“My aim is still better than yours,” Even hummed, startling Isak as he lazily tapped a finger on his nose in the pitch darkness. Isak brushed his hand away and scoffed, burying his face back into Even’s neck, listening to his breaths getting slower and deeper as he drifted off, his arm still securely around Isak.

This time, Isak didn’t mind staying awake all that much.

#SKAM #Skam OG #Evak #Evak fan fic #SKAM fan fic #isak valtersen #even bech næsheim #insomnia #my writing

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awhitehead17 · 5 years

Text

Just My Luck It’s You

TimKon, Soulmates AU, Fluff, Bit of Angst, Hurt and Comfort, Oblivious Kon, Injured Tim.

Summary: One night as Kon was dosing off to sleep it suddenly feels like he's been suckered punch and left breathless. As he gasps for air he knows something big has just happened to Tim, his very human soulmate, and knows he needs to go and find him no matter what.

Enjoy! :D

Kon scowls at his wrist as he walks into the kitchen of the Tower. Cassie was already in there sat at the island reading a book. Kon goes over there and slumps down in the empty seat next to her while saying, “Whoever my soulmate is, I hate them.”

He glares at his aching wrist in annoyance. It had been hurting since last night. He had been writing his essay for his science class when a sudden sharp pain erupted in his wrist. He held it tightly to his chest and breathed through the pain, he knew instantly that something had happened to his soul mate because writing an essay couldn’t cause that much pain. From then it had been throbbing all night and now all morning, it’s like his soulmate had just broken their wrist or something.

His soulmate, whomever that may be, was either accident prone or just very, very unlucky because it’s like every week Kon is feeling some sort of bruise or even a broken bone. It’s annoying! He’s supposed to be invulnerable, barely able to be injured or hurt and here he was every week in pain because of his (assumingly) very human soulmate.

“What’s wrong now?” Cassie asks turning a page of her book. She sounded exasperated and Kon has the feeling that she only asked the question just to humour him.

Ignoring that feeling he rubs his wrist to try and ease the pain in it. “I think they broke their wrist last night. My right one is really causing me some grief.”

Next to him Cassie freezes. He gives her a quizzical look. “What?”

She says nothing as she places her bookmark inside of the book before turning to him with a calculating look. “You still don’t know who they are yet, do you?”

“Uh, no, why?” He raises his eyebrow at her.

She doesn’t answer him, instead she digs through her pocket and brings out her phone. She goes on it, jabs at the screen a few times and places it down in the space between them.

“Uh Cass what are you-”

“Shush,” she holds up a finger at him, “I have a theory and I want to see if I’m right.”

Kon goes to ask her what she’s on about when Tim’s voice is suddenly coming from the phone in front of them.

“Cassie? What’s wrong? We only spoke a couple hours ago, what’s happened?”

Cassie pointedly ignores the look Kon shoots her. “Everything’s fine Tim, stop your worrying. I’m here with Kon now actually, tell him what happened to you last night.”

There’s a pause between them for a moment until Tim responds sounding just as confused as Kon was feeling. “Uh okay, but why?”

“Just do it.” She snaps at him.

“Uh hey Kon.”

“Hey man.” Kon replies, he shoots Cassie a strange look for her behaviour before focusing on the phone again, “What’s up? What happened last night?”

“Look I don’t know why Cassie seems to be making a big deal of it, but I broke my right wrist last night. I landed badly from a jump, it was a stupid amateur mistake that’s all. I’m fine, just give me a few weeks and I’ll be back to normal.”

“Just take it easy then dude, take the chance to do some R and R.”

Tim snorts, “I’m sorry but don’t you know who I am? Of course I’m not going to take it easy.”

Kon could easily hear the smile in his voice and is unable to stop himself from cracking a grin himself. “Yeah I know. At least I tried.”

“Yeah sure, anyway I gotta go, Alfred’s calling for dinner. I’ll see you the weekend!”

“See you later man.”

The phone switches off and Kon turns back to Cassie. “Okay, so the point in that was… why are you looking at me like that?”

Cassie was glaring at him with narrowed and lips pressed into a firm line. It made Kon want to recoil, it’s almost like he’s about to be told off for something.

She throws out her hands in disbelief, “Are you being serious!”

Kon shrugs helplessly, having no clue to what she was on about. Cassie let’s out a hard sigh and rubs her hand over her forehead in frustration. “I can’t believe – right. Your wrist, your right wrist, is hurting correct?” At his nod she continues. “Okay so what Tim just tell us about his wrist?”

“That he broke it.” He replies slowly still not getting it.

She makes another frustrated noise and on the table her hands clench tightly, like she’s physically restraining herself from strangling Kon.

“Tim hurts his wrist last night. Coincidentally the same night yours starts hurting. What do you think that means?”

It takes a few moment but it finally clicks inside of his head at what she was hinting at. His eyes immediately widen in shock and surprise at the thought.

“Oh no! No, no, no, no!” He’s shaking both his head and his hands in refusal. “Tim is not my soulmate. That’s not – that’s not possible.”

“Isn’t it?” She challenges. “I had a feeling that you two were soulmates, this kinda confirms it.”

Kon shakes his head again. “No it’s not. It’s not Tim. It can’t be.”

Cassie gives him a look that says he’s being stupid. “Just think about it alright Kon.”

Having had enough of the conversation he gets up off his chair and starts making his way out of the room. As he does so he shouts over his shoulder, “It’s not him!”

“Just think about it!”

He couldn’t stop thinking about it. He couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that Tim could be his soulmate. It was plaguing his mind for hours, even days, after Cassie pointed it out to him. He’s been constantly rethinking and replaying the last couple of years, all of the bumps, bruises and broken bones he’s felt over time and how Tim always seemed to be hurt in the same places at the same time.

How had he not realised it before? Soulmates feel one another’s pain, (physical pain, not emotional) it sucks as much as it is awesome. If you know your soulmate then you know when they’re hurt and you know to go and help them. On the other hand if you don’t know them then being in pain and knowing they’re hurting somehow is awful because you can’t help them because you don’t know who they are.

After Cass had pointed it out to him Kon couldn’t unsee it. Any time Tim flinched in pain, got a bruise or a cut Conner could feel it, much more than before. That’s probably because he’s now aware of it.

Kon tries to bring it up to Tim multiple of times but he always ends up backing out at the last second. He doesn’t know why he does but he does. He just can’t bring himself to say anything to the other teen about it.

Thankfully after the wrist incident, nothing happens for a while. Just a few bumps and bruises but nothing major which Kon is thankful for, both for Tim’s sake and his own.

It’s two months after Kon realised that Tim was in fact his soulmate when that something major happens. Kon was in his room at the Tower simply dosing on his bed, happily edging towards sleep when he suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe. It’s like he had been abruptly sucker punched in the gut and got winded from it. He pushes himself upright into a sitting position and clenches his stomach as pain flares up inside of him. He couldn’t breathe. The pain was almost unbearable, he couldn’t say that he’s ever experienced something like it before. It’s probably worse than being exposed to kryptonite.

Still struggling to get air into his body he fumbles for his communicator. Finding it he presses the emergency button and waits. It feels like it takes forever for the others to get to his room, when they eventually do they burst in and give him a funny look when they don’t immediately find the crisis. Somehow he manages to gasp out that he couldn’t breathe and suddenly they’re moving again.

They help him to sit upright even more and get him calmed down enough to get his breathing under control. Once it feels like he has full function of his lungs once again he thanks them for their help. His stomach was still sore but at least he could breathe now.

After a moment Cassie asks, “Kon, what’s wrong? What was that all about?”

“It’s Tim.” He says almost breathlessly. “Tim’s hurt, really, really, bad.”

Bart looks confused for a moment before he’s quickly brightening up at the realisation. “Oh! You guys are soulmates! That’s so awesome!”

Both Kon and Cassie shoot him a look and he shrinks back in on himself. “Sorry, sorry! But if Tim’s in trouble we need to go and get him.”

Cassie looks between them, “Any ideas where he is?”

Taking a deep breath Kon shakes his head, he winces as his stomach twinges in pain again. “Last I knew he was in Gotham, but that hardly means anything nowadays.”

She nods, like knew that already. She’s then looking at Kon, eyeing him up and down worriedly. “Can you fly?”

Kon takes a moment to assess himself before answering. His stomach still felt like it was on fire, most of it seemed to be near the centre of his stomach and everything around his middle seemed to feel really tender.

“I’m fine.” He answers eventually. He can power through this. Whatever had happened to Tim, he needs to go and find his best friend, beat up the bad guys who had hurt him and then beat some sense or something into Tim for getting badly hurt.

Cassie glares at him as if she doesn’t believe him. Thankfully she lets it go with an eyeroll and says, “Right, let’s go to Gotham and find him.”

Bart and Cassie leave his room and Kon takes a moment to follow. It takes a few seconds for him to be able to stand up, ignore the pain and follow his friends from where they had left. Cassie takes Bart in her arms and together they fly off to Gotham in search for their best friend.

Kon nearly dropped out of the sky a good three times before reaching the dark city. The sudden flare of pain that erupted in his stomach at random times was what made him almost fall, the pain had made him lose concentration because of how much it had hurt.

Once they got to the city Kon automatically hones his super hearing onto Tim’s heartbeat. He guides the others to the west side of the city and down into some dingy, skanky alleyway between a couple of apartment blocks. They touch down just inside of the entrance and Kon gestures them to follow him.

They walk no more than 5 feet before they find a body on the floor behind a dumpster. They all rush forward before abruptly stopping in shock. Tim lies on the floor with one hand clasped tightly over his stomach and his over was weakly grasping at his utility belt across his waist. There was blood all over him and a puddle that’s slowly growing in size just underneath him. His breathing was ragged and the part of his face that wasn’t covered in his masked was contorted in visible pain.

“Tim!”

“Oh my god, oh my god, are you okay, what happened, who hurt you…”

The three of them rush to their fallen friend and fall onto the floor next to him. Cassie and Bart were on one side and Kon was on the other. Kon reaches out and grabs the hand that was weakly grasping at Tim’s belt and holds it in his own, this gets Tim’s attention and the vigilante looks up at him and frowns.

“Kon?” His voice was quiet, weak and raspy. It made Kon’s heart break at hearing it.

He leans forward, “It’s me buddy, I’m right here.”

Tim carries on frowning, as if not believing it was him. “Conner?”

Before Kon could even try and stop him, Tim was trying to sit up. It causes them both to simultaneously hiss in pain at his movement.

Cassie pushes Tim back down. “Don’t move you idiot, we need to get you help. Now what happened?”

There’s a pause between them and for a terrifying moment Kon thought that Tim had passed out but then his friend was making a sound before saying, “I got stabbed.”

His response would be funny if he wasn’t on the verge of dying right now. Cassie obviously doesn’t see the amusing side of it because she rolls her eyes at him, “Really dumb nuts? I hadn’t noticed.” She glances at both Kon and Bart before looking at Tim. “Where do you want us to take you?”

Tim opens his mouth to answer but no noise comes out. That’s when Bart presses forward, his hands covering Tim’s profusely bleeding wound. Tim’s blood was covering Bart’s hand and the sight of it made Kon want to vomit.

“Just take him to the cave,” Bart suggests, “His family can handle it from there.”

Kon shakily nods. That’s a good idea, a sensible idea. When had Bart become the sensible one? He sucks in a sharp breath when Bart presses harder on Tim’s wound, feeling all the pain from it in his own stomach. They really needed to get him help and get it fast.

Kon lets go of Tim’s hand and starts sliding his arms underneath him. Tim makes a sound at the movement and Kon gently shushes him. He looks at the others as he lifts Tim up off the ground. “Come on, we need to get him help.”

Once again Cassie takes Bart in her arms and altogether they head off towards the Batcave.

-----

Several days later Kon finds himself in Wayne Manor in Tim’s room. His best friend was sat on his bed, his back against the headboard, his torso was wrapped in layers of bandages and he was pouting.

Kon smirks at him in disbelief. “Dude I’m not getting you coffee or your laptop. Alfred’s given you strict bedrest instructions. Working away on your computer defeats the object of that and no way in hell am I going against Alfred, not even for you pal.”

Tim carries on pouting at him, he even crosses his arms over his chest as he does so. The action makes him look like a child and Kon couldn’t help but laugh at him.

After a moment Tim drops the act and shifts on the bed to get comfortable again, however the movement causes his stomach to twinge painfully which causes him to hiss. At the same time Kon feels the pain run through his own body and simultaneously as Tim does, he hisses at the suddenness and sharpness of it.

Kon’s hiss doesn’t go unnoticed by Tim because he catches the funny look his friend sends him. Thankfully Tim doesn’t comment on it as he settles down once again so Kon lets it go. Kon considers him for a moment before asking, “You okay dude?”

Tim swallows before nodding, “Okay as I can be I guess. It’s not my first stab wound, I’ll be back to normal in no time.”

“Yeah I guess.” Kon nods again, because he knows Tim and knows what he’s like. He won’t stop until he’s back to his usual level of fitness.

They fall into easy silence after that. After years of knowing one another and being friends awkward silences have long since passed. However the silence doesn’t last long because Tim cocks his head to the side and stares at him with a look Kon knows all too well. It’s his analytical look, like he’s got a mystery and is trying to solve it kind of look.

Kon raises an eyebrow at him, “What? Why are you looking at me like that.”

The look stays on Tim’s face as he asks, “How did you know that I was hurt? I hadn’t called you or the Titans at the time, yet you got to me first.” He seems to realise what he had said and back tracks on himself, “Don’t get me it’s greatly appreciated and I’m happy that you came, but I’m just wondering how you knew.”

Kon’s not offended by his words, he’s actually amused more than anything because it’s not often that Tim rambles when speaking. It’s a welcomed sight so Kon finds it hard to not be offended by his best friend.

In response he shrugs, “Well, I guess I just heard your heartbeat spike, went to the other and together we investigated. You know how I’m trained onto your heartbeat dude.” He’s trying to play it cool and be nonchalant about the whole thing because he really doesn’t want to step into that territory just yet. He still doesn’t think he’s ready for that.

Unfortunately Tim decides to live up to his ‘detective’ nickname because he carries on looking at Kon like he’s a puzzle to be solved and doesn’t let the matter go. “I feel like it’s more than that Kon. You and I both know that it goes deeper than you just listening to my heartbeat.”

Kon looks away from him, now feeling unsure. Of course he knows that Tim is right. They both know he’s right, that’s the annoying thing about it. He opens his mouth to speak up but nothing comes out, he tries a second time and gets the same results. In the end he shakes his head in defeat and remains silent.

That’s when Tim speaks up, his voice is quiet and understanding. “Conner… I think we’ve both known this for a while and whatever the reason neither of us have bothered to comment on it, but I think we need to address it now. The reason you knew I was hurt is because we’re soulmates.”

Kon turns his head and looks at Tim. His best friend was no longer wearing his analytical look but now was wearing one of understanding, one that read, ‘I'm here, you can talk to me’.

“You knew I was hurt because you felt it too. And when you felt it you came running.”

Kon swallows the lump that’s formed in his throat. “Of course I did, why wouldn’t I?” He lets out a disbelieving laugh, “Jesus man, I didn’t know how to bring it up to you. I’ve been trying to for ages but I just couldn’t bring myself to say anything.”

The edges of Tim’s lips quirk up in a small smile, “That’s okay. I felt the same too. Though it’s probably worse on your end, sorry.”

Kon snorts, “Yeah it’s just my luck that it’s you who’s my soulmate, the very human Robin.”

Tim fakes a scowl, “As if that’s my fault. I didn’t choose to be this way. On the other hand I’m happy that you’re mine, means I have to only deal with my pain and hardly any of yours.”

“I feel like this is very one sided right now.”

“That’s because it is.”

They fall silent before both of them are bursting out laughing. Kon feels the weight he’s been carrying over the last few come off his shoulder’s. Tim’s his soulmate and he’s Tim’s and he’s completely fine with that.

#timkon #TimKon Week 2019 #Tim Drake #Kon-El #cassie sandsmark #bart allen #soulmate au #fluff #bit angsty #hurt and comfort #oblivious Kon #injured Tim #fanfiction

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jungcupid-archive · 5 years

Text

i dare you (to never let me go)

pairing: jungkook x jimin jungkook x taehyung (subplot)

summary: and after all that had passed, jungkook would always be pulled back to jimin. he didn’t know why, maybe it was fate (or maybe it was his 9-year-old daughter).

chapter: 3/?

a/n: forgot to post this here but posted it on ao3... am i boo boo the fool? yes.

Mina was up. According to her alarm clock, it was 8:59 AM. She could’ve just immediately gone downstairs to find the present she knew would be waiting for her, but she liked hearing-

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU! HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR mina! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!”

-that.

Mina could’ve screamed for hours on end about how excited she was (she was 9 years old!), but she just raced out of bed and down the stairs to find the letter. Mina saw a gift from her Daddy in the living room but decided to leave that for later. Next to it, there was an envelope with a sticky note on it. It read: Mina, I’M SO SORRY!!! I was called in to work for a few hours. Grandma won’t be able to make it but I trust that as a fresh 9-year-old, you’ll be able to take care of yourself. Be good. Brush your teeth. Keep the doors locked. Don’t pick up the phone if it isn’t me. I put your cereal on the kitchen counter. Love you, I’ll try to be back fast!

Mina couldn’t even bring herself to be upset, he’d be back soon enough. Until then, she had the company of her other Daddy. Mina snuggled up on the couch and opened up the envelope carefully like she did every year, taking out the loose sheets of paper with immaculate handwriting on them. She was already buzzing with excitement when she began reading.

Dear Jimin,

IT’S YOUR 9TH BIRTHDAY! WAY TO GO GIRL! I don’t know how you’ve made it so far with only Jungkook to take care of you, but good job! I know he’s a handful, but be patient with him, yeah?

Mina laughed at this.

Today you turn 9. Another year older and hopefully wiser. I know what you’re expecting, the usual stuff about being amazing and learning new things and me telling you stories about me and your other father, but this birthday is a little more exciting. This year I’m going to tell you about Jimin (not you, although I’d love to talk about you). If I know Jungkook, and trust me, I do, then he hasn’t found Jimin like I told him to. You probably don’t even know who he is.

He was right about that.

Get comfortable, honey. I’m about to tell you the story of Jungkook and Jimin (featuring yours truly).

“Jimin, stop moving!”

Jungkook poked his head out from behind the canvas and aggressively waved a paintbrush in the air. “That’s cheating and you know it.”

Jimin rolled his eyes at Jungkook through the mirror, “Technically, it isn’t because it’s already been 2 hours. 2 hours and 1 minute, to be precise.”

The boys were in the dance studio, Jimin posed delicately in front of the mirror with his back turned to Jungkook, who was set up with an easel to paint the other boy.

“Besides,” Jimin practically whined, “I’m tired. When you said you had a dare for me, this is not what I had in mind.”

Jungkook restrained himself from throwing his paintbrush at Jimin when he turned around, no longer holding his pose. A cry of rage nearly left his body. Jungkook was too good to this Park Jimin kid.

“Jimin! Fine, go ahead, cheat. See if I care. I always knew you were a bad sport.” Jungkook gave the other a sarcastic smile and started packing up his paints.

“I just told you that I didn’t cheat! Check your phone, you absolute buffoon. We started at 2, it’s 4:01 now,” Jimin exclaimed, offended that he had to defend himself like this. He snatched his unopened duffel bag off the floor and crossed the room to Jungkook. The painting was beautiful, as always, showcasing Jimin’s form gracefully. Light glinted off the rings on his fingers and his hair looked like it was made of feathers, but Jimin couldn’t care less. He’d just been called a cheater. Again.

“You always do this,” Jimin continued, sitting on Jungkook’s stool as soon as the other got up. Jungkook placed the painting lightly on the floor and began folding his easel. “I always do the dare exactly right, and you always end up salty because I didn’t fail, consequently calling me a cheater because of some inferiority complex bullshit.”

Jungkook stopped his movements and turned to face Jimin, arms crossed and the vague thought of murder on his mind, “I do not get salty. And what are, some sort of junior psychologist? Fuck off. You’re just a sore loser who can’t ever complete his dares properly.”

He fished his phone out of his pocket and thrust it in Jimin’s face. The clock read 3:59. Jimin didn’t back down, showing Jungkook his own phone that read 4:01.

They both glared at each other and before Jungkook could come up with something rude to say, Jimin shoved his phone back into his pocked and turned to leave. He raised his hand in a half-wave with his back turned, “Whatever, Jungkook. See you later.”

As soon as the door closed, Jungkook began muttering to himself, eyebrows furrowed, “God, who does he think he is? It’s not my fault his phone is set to the wrong time. And would it have killed him to pose for a few more minutes? He knows this assignment is due in, like, 2 days.”

When everything was packed up, Jungkook slid down onto the floor. His neck was killing him from being ducked over the stupid painting for 2 hours – no, 1 hour and 59 minutes. The room was air-conditioned but his face still felt warm from frustration. He stared at the ceiling. God, he really did like this room.

It was so much nicer than the art studio, all blank walls and no personality. This room was charged with energy, even without people inside. The floors were bright yellow and the walls were covered with signatures of past students. It was where Jimin had taught him how to dance. Where Jimin had probably also wanted to dance today because of his upcoming showcase, but never got the chance because Jungkook needed someone to pose for him and he knew Jimin didn’t back down from a dare.

Jungkook groaned, rolling over onto his stomach and throwing a contained tantrum because he knew he’d been slightly unfair. Okay, so maybe he’d been a little less understanding than he could’ve been. A lot less. And maybe Jimin had been just the teensiest bit right about Jungkook being salty. Maybe. He took in a deep breath and sat up, slowly gathering his materials.

When Jungkook opened the door, staining the knob with red paint in the process, he was surprised to find Jimin leaning against the wall outside with his eyes closed. His lips quirked up into a smile and he opened his eyes, looking to Jungkook. Jungkook couldn’t help it, he smiled back.

“Sorry?” Jungkook attempted. Jimin laughed and shook his head.

“Time is a construct anyways, and so are apologies. But I’m sorry too. You can finish up tomorrow, I’ll be there.”

Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck and said, “Thanks, and after that you can practice for your showcase. I’ll critique.”

Jimin plucked his duffel bag off the floor and began walking down the hallway with Jungkook by his side, “Yeah? And what makes you think you’re capable of doing that?”

“Well,” Jungkook started cheekily, “I recall my dance teacher as being quite the klutz sometimes, it became second nature to point out his mistakes.”

“Brat.”

“Your brat.”

“Nope, just a brat.”

And that was them, Jimin and Jungkook. They’d known each other all through high school and now they were learning to navigate how to be freshman all over again. Sure they fought. A lot, actually. But in the end, they’d always come back to each other. Because they were best friends and for best friends, it was hard to be with each other sometimes, sure, but it was harder to be without each other.

“This is unnatural! It shouldn’t exist! I’m going to fail and get kicked out of this stupid school and never be able to design stupid buildings and make stupid money for the rest of my stupid life!”

“Extensive vocabulary, little Jeon.”

“Shut your stupid trap, little Park.”

They were in Jungkook’s dorm room. Jimin was lying on the bed, reading some book about healthy eating. He sighed and placed a bookmark in the crease before setting the novel aside and sitting up. He stared at Jungkook, whose head was resting on the desk. Jungkook lifted his head just enough to make puppy-dog eyes at Jimin.

“Help me?” Jungkook tried sounding pitiful, which wasn’t hard considering his current status of Dumbest Person Alive. “I don’t understand this shit at all, and I sure as hell can’t fail.”

“Yes you can. This class is an elective, remember? Your perfectionist ass probably doesn’t like hearing this, but you could fail this class and it literally would not affect your life-long goal of becoming an architect. Your GPA? Sure. But how much is one class really going to matter?” Jimin’s logic was flawless, except for the fact that Jungkook’s perfectionist ass truly didn’t like hearing any of it and therefore did not process any of it. His life was a stack of Jenga blocks and God was a drunk freshman at his first frat party desperately wanting to prove his worth by winning a game his loose limbs were just not made for.

“Also, taking Chemistry this year just because you were good at it in high school was a stupid decision. Just throwing that out there.”

“You suck, go back to reading about the different kind of leaves you can put down your throat,” Jungkook huffed. He slammed his textbook shut and stared out the window dramatically. “I’ll just fail and damage my perfect GPA, which, by the way, is the pride of my family. Stop laughing, I’m serious!”

Jimin finally got up from the bed and sprawled himself over Jungkook’s lap, turning his face away from the window. Jungkook pouted. “We’ll find you a tutor, okay? Let’s go get some food right now, it’s late. I’m a performance arts kid, Chemistry makes me want to physically throw up.”

“Technically you’re a health and nutrition kid,” Jungkook muttered, but he complied nonetheless, and soon they were down in the cafeteria.

It was close to 8, which meant prime time for kids who lived on campus. There was a flock of people crowding around the cakes, which immediately put Jungkook in an even worse mood than he was in before.

“They’re going to get all the cheesecake cups before we get there,” he groaned, “why is life so unfair?”

Jimin smacked him on the back of his head and told him to “sit the fuck down drama queen” so that he could get them food. Jungkook obeyed and pulled out his phone, deleting some pictures from his phone and moving others around to keep everything organized. He was considering joining Jimin in the line and even scanned the crowd of people to spot where the elder was when he noticed what was happening.

Jimin was standing uncomfortably in front of this dude who looked like the type of person to duct-tape knives to their chest for “self-defence”. He was standing incredibly close to Jimin, practically breathing down his neck and although Jungkook couldn’t heart anything from so far, he could see the guy mouthing words into Jimin’s ear that were clearly making him uncomfortable. Jimin shifted every so often and didn’t once look behind him. Jungkook’s eyes narrowed in annoyance as he got up, getting closer to the line.

Park Jimin was usually so outspoken and didn’t hesitate to defend himself when Jungkook accused him of something but throw him into a situation where an actual confrontation was needed, and suddenly all his bravado left him. Jungkook almost rolled his eyes.

Jungkook walked straight up to Jimin and not-so-accidentally shoved the guy leaning into him as he went in to peck his cheek. Jimin turned to look at Jungkook, ears tinting pink as he opened his mouth to say something. But before he could, Jungkook whined in a sickeningly cute voice, “Baby! What’s taking so long? I’m hungry!”

“Uh.”

Park Jimin everybody, a man of many words.

“Dude, don’t you have something to say?” The discount serial killer behind them said through gritted teeth, his eyes on Jungkook.

“Oh! I’m sorry! Did I bump into you? I guess I get too excited when I’m with my boyfriend. Sorry about that.” Jungkook ignored Jimin pinching his stomach and merely slid his arm around his waist. “It won’t happen again.”

“I didn’t need you to come save me like some knock-off knight in shining armour, idiot,” Jimin muttered lowly, struggling to move out of Jungkook’s grip.

Jungkook grinned, planting another wet kiss on Jimin’s jaw, “Relax, baby, it’s the least I could do for my honey bear.”

“One more word and I’m not sweet-talking Ms. Chan into giving you an extra cheesecake cup.” Jimin warned, at which Jungkook immediately shut up. Although his hand stayed on Jimin’s waist, it didn’t have to, but Jungkook liked having it there. He certainly didn’t want Freddy Krueger back there to try something else. Yeah, that was it. A gesture of consideration.

After they’d gotten their food and settled down at a table, Jungkook gave Jimin a sly smile. “You’re such a charmer, Park Jimin. I don’t know how you get Ms. Chan to give you extras every single time.”

He grabbed the first of his two cheesecake cups and began devouring it, not even sparing a glance at his actual dinner. Jimin looked at him distastefully and wrinkled his nose, “I think she likes that I have actual manners and can behave decently in the caf, unlike someone I know.”

“Wha you mee?” Jungkook choked out from his mouthful of cake, he quickly swallowed the rest and wiped his mouth free of crumbs. “You know, as flirtatious as you can be, you don’t handle intimacy very well.”

Jimin’s hand stopped in mid-air, bell peppers falling from his fork to the plate with a satisfying plop. “What.”

Jungkook grinned, “Earlier, your ears turned red! It was the most entertained I’ve been in 19 years, to tell you the truth. What was up with that? Wait, don’t tell me… do I make you… nervous?”

Jimin stabbed his vegetables a little too hard on the plate and looked up with an obviously fake smile, “Shut up if you know what’s good for you, Jeon Jungkook.” Jungkook didn’t back down, opting to lean in close across the table until Jimin looked up, only to find that the two of them were nose to nose.

“Oh look, a fly.”

“No fly here,” Jungkook said in a matter-of-fact tone, thankfully without food in mouth. His innocent expression slowly transformed into a smirk. “Just a well-mannered boy who definitely does not make you nervous acting decently in the caf.”

Before Jimin could call Jungkook out on his bullshit, there was cake on his face and he couldn’t see. He could hear Jungkook cackling, his evil laughter only increased when Jimin tried to blindly swat at him.

“Oh, Jeon Jungkook,” Jimin said in a murderous tone while wiping cake off his face, “the dead man you are today.”

In the blink of an eye, both boys were up and running. Jungkook screamed in delight while being chased by a ravenous Jimin. Ms. Chan stared at them with a surprisingly fond look in her eyes (probably because of Jimin, the old charmer) and then nearly yelped when she realized Jungkook was running towards her.

Jungkook jumped over the counter and hid behind Ms. Chan.

“You wouldn’t go through such a beautiful lady, would you?” Jungkook taunted as Jimin also slid over the counter. “Especially not when her hair is looking so voluminous!” Jimin made a wild swipe for Jungkook but he moved out of the way.

Jungkook stepped towards the left and in the split second that Jimin lunged to that side, Jungkook slipped past Ms. Chan on her right, gave her a wink, and sprinted out of the caf and towards the field. Just when he thought he’d successfully evaded the wrath of Jimin, Jungkook felt a hand on his shirt and he was yanked back and knocked to the ground. Thank god for soft grass. Jimin sat on top of him, a triumphant smile on his face.

“Guess who?” He practically sand. Now, what happened next was purely evolutionary instinct. Jungkook was the prey, and Jimin was the predator. Also, Jungkook used to be on his high school wrestling team so it might’ve had something to do with that. In a span of seconds, Jungkook utilised his rush of adrenaline to take Jimin down and straddle him, switching their previous positions. Sometimes, he forgot that Jimin was physically smaller than him. It was moments like these where he just really, really enjoyed that fact.

“I swear to god, the minute you let me go-”

“Who says I’m letting you go?” Jungkook pulled out his phone and carelessly pretended to entertain himself with it, “I have a couple phone calls to make anyways, care to listen in?”

Jimin, clearly defeated, stopped resisting and just let Jungkook sit on him. He stared at the stars and exhaled deeply, rolling his eyes when Jungkook leaned over his face to block his view. “Jesus, Jungkook. No one’s ever going to be able to date you for longer than 2 minutes. You’re the worst.”

“Oh, definitely,” Jungkook waved off. He pocketed his phone and leaned in even closer to Jimin, fingers grazing his cheek where there was some cake left. “And I don’t need someone, anyways. I have you, don’t I?” He popped the cake into his mouth.

Jimin cleared his throat, eyes lingering on Jungkook’s finger, “Excuse me?”

Jungkook put his ears right next to Jimin’s ear and whispered, “I’ll just marry you, babe.”

Jungkook sniggered when Jimin hastily pushed his torso back up, his face turning a cute little shade of red. “No thank you,” Jimin choked out, sounding embarrassed. He sighed in relief when Jungkook finally got off him.

They sat criss-crossed, facing each other under the harsh field lights. Jungkook smiled and then shook his head, “In all seriousness, I love you. You know that, right? Having you with me has kept me sane this year.” He knew it was cheesy, but Jungkook felt the need to thank the older boy for putting up with his stupid ass.

Jimin punched him on the shoulder, looking anywhere but at Jungkook’s face. “Yeah, yeah. I love you too.” Before Jimin could withdraw his hand, though, Jungkook caught his wrist and held it gently between his own fingers. Without warning, he planted a soft kiss on Jimin’s forehead. When he pulled back, there was cake on his lips and Jimin, although caught off guard, silently wiped it off with his thumb.

“Well, this is awkward,” a voice boomed out from behind them. A boy stood there, about their age. His features were a little hard to distinguish because the lights didn’t quite reach him. “I didn’t expect to be hearing love confession on my walk to the caf, but by all means, continue. Don’t let me interrupt you!”

Jungkook and Jimin stared at the boy, and then back at themselves. All at once, they sprang up and took a few steps away from each other. Jimin was the first to speak.

“It’s not like that, trust me. We’re not… we would never… uh… hey, I know you!” Jimin exclaimed as the boy stepped out from the shadows. “You’re Taehyung!” You’re the one who gave me flowers at my last showcase! You wouldn’t have believed it, Jungkook. He just came up to me and said ‘hey, you deserved flowers for that; and then he ran out of the room. I thought I was hallucinating, but then he shows up out of breath with this grin on his face as he presents me with a huge bouquet of flowers with the tag still on them and-”

Jimin turned to look at Jungkook but he was staring at Taehyung, his face gone slack. He glanced at Jimin long enough to convey the get-me-out-of-here-before-I-say-something-stupid way look and Jimin, looking beyond confused, simply turned to Taehyung, gave an awkward little wave goodbye and then pulled Jungkook away and into the building.

The whole time going back to the dorm, Jungkook didn’t say a word as Jimin complained about “bad impressions” and “making new friends”. As soon as they stepped into the room, though, Jungkook snapped out of his trance and started hitting his head against the closet door. Jimin, not entirely unhappy with the situation, just sat down on Jungkook’s bed and watched him repeat the action a few times before he stopped, his head rested against the door.

“Okay, crackhead, care to finally explain?”

“I’m in love.”

Jimin gaped at him. In all the years he’d known Jeon Jungkook, he’d never proclaimed his love for someone else. He’d had crushes, even on Jimin, but he’d never blatantly said that he was “in love”. It wasn’t like Jungkook, who’d told Jimin time and time again that there was no way he’d ever get into a serious relationship in high school because he still had no fucking clue what that entailed or what this whole love business was about. Jungkook was a feeler, but a calculated feeler.

“Kim fucking Taehyung. He’s in my Chemistry class and ever since I saw him on my first day, I’ve just been head over heels,” Jungkook groaned, removing himself from the closet and collapsing onto the bed, his head lying in Jimin’s lap. “I only ever see him in class and I’ve never once had the nerve to talk to him. So seeing him outside of class was… jarring, to say the least.”

“Kim Taehyung,” Jimin murmured, not fully listening to Jungkook, who continues talking about Taehyung in a dreamy voice as Jimin stares straight ahead.

And even though Jimin should’ve laughed or teased Jungkook about love at first sight, even though Jimin should’ve complained about not being told about this earlier, he didn’t. Instead, his head hung low so that he was looking at Jungkook’s head in his lap, his eyes lighting up as he talks about Taehyung, and something inside of him cracked.

And Jimin had no idea why.

“So when were you planning on telling me?” Jimin asked through a mouthful of toothpaste. Jungkook gave him a pointed look in the mirror and pulled his own toothbrush out to twirl it next to his head, the universe symbol for ‘you’re fucking psychotic’. He spit into the sink.

“You would’ve gone all crazy. Remember when that girl asked me to Prom in junior year and you interrogated her to the point where she backed off and told me she didn’t want to go with me anymore? I didn’t want that Jimin to appear.”

“Okay, fair.”

Jimin finished brushing his teeth and watched Jungkook neatly pack up his toiletries. He made a move to leave but stopped when Jungkook pulled out a bottle of perfume tentatively.

“No.”

Jungkook looked offended, “What? I can’t smell nice?” But he averted his eyes.

Jimin rolled his eyes, “I can’t believe you’re this whipped already.”

It was a known fact on their floor that Jeon Jungkook was sensitive to smells. If you were inviting him over, your room must be a scent-free zone unless you wanted him to go home with a nasty migraine. Jungkook never used perfume, usually opting for lotion instead. Jimin knew this, the whole world knew this.

But here he was, dabbing perfume onto his wrists and gently rubbing his neck. Jungkook crinkled his nose and shoved the bottle back into his bag. Jimin scoffed.

“You’re willing to be confined to bedrest and nausea because of… because of what exactly? Kim Taehyung?” Maybe it sounded a little catty, but Jimin felt the need to bring his best friend to his senses.

A dreamy sigh escaped Jungkook’s lips and it was like watching a cartoon character’s eyes literally glaze over, “Because of love, little Park.”

Before Jimin could retort, someone stepped out of the shower from behind them and Jimin instinctively looked over his shoulder. When he saw who it was, he immediately cursed and kept his head down. Jungkook looked at him strangely and flicked his forehead.

“Hey, let’s go. Jimin?” Jimin almost threw a fit, if only Jungkook would learn to read social cues.

“Jimin?” A deep voice called from behind them. Jungkook turned around and his eyebrows immediately narrowed. He grabbed Jimin’s elbow and was ready to storm out of there but Jimin didn’t move. Jungkook watched in disbelief as Jimin put on a reluctant smile and turned, staring straight at his ex.

“Namjoon. Hi!”

Namjoon stood there with a towel wrapped around his waist, skin still glistening with moisture. Jungkook had to admit he looked good, even if his fogged up glasses ruined the effect. Didn’t make him any less of a dick though. Jungkook’s scowl didn’t drop off his face once as he watched the two of them converse for a few minutes. In fact, it only seemed to deepen when Jimin laughed at something Namjoon said. Jungkook was 99% sure he’d have permanent wrinkles around his mouth when Namjoon leaned in to give Jimin a hug and said bye.

Jimin joined Jungkook looking slightly dazed but jumped when Jungkook snapped at him, “Don’t go fucking soft on me, Park Jimin. I forbid you from falling for his charm again.”

“Shut up, I won’t. He was just being friendly.”

“He was just being friendly,” Jungkook imitated in his most annoying, high-pitched Jimin voice. This earned him a (well-deserved) pinch to his side.

Kim Namjoon had been an unfortunate part of Jimin’s life when they’d first started University. A smart, older student who, unbeknownst to Jimin and Jungkook, had quite the reputation for being a grade A asshole. Unfortunately, he was also incredibly charming. What did this lead to? A one-sided relationship in which Jimin got pulled back in every time he was about to leave because Namjoon carefully planned out when to showcase his boyfriendability. Jungkook, of course, called bullshit and finally got Jimin out of what had to be the worst relationship of his life and dealt with the aftermath as Jimin cried about how stupid he’d been (and occasionally, how much he missed Namjoon, for whatever reason).

They remained friendly, much to Jungkook’s chagrin. Jimin wasn’t entirely comfortable with him yet, but he could handle a casual conversation. Or at least, that’s what he told himself.

Jungkook, on the other hand, had perfected his bullshit detector.

“If he even tries talking to you again, I swear to god,” Jungkook muttered, annoyed. He grabbed his backpack from his room and threw it to Jimin, who was standing in the doorway.

“You’ll do what, Jungkook?” Jimin’s eyes shrank in amusement. Jungkook finally found his keys from deep within the folds of his blanket and he quickly reached the door to lock up.

“Anything. I’ll do anything to make sure he doesn’t,” Jungkook said firmly, grabbing his backpack from Jimin and putting his keys inside. Jimin just laughed and waved his words off, beginning to walk down the hall.

“I’m serious, Jimin. I don’t want him near you. Hey!” Jungkook grabbed Jimin’s wrist and pulled him back to him. Jimin, not expecting the sudden jerk, nearly tripped over his own feet but Jungkook held him up by the shoulders.

“Jesus, Jeon, give a guy a warning next time,” Jimin rolled his shoulders to get rid of Jungkook’s hands and then looked at him right in the eyes, “I’m not going back to him. Understand? Contrary to what you may believe, I actually do have some self-respect. Sure, I have leftover feelings but that’s all they are – leftovers. Echoes of what I actually felt. So calm down and let’s go to class.”

Guilt appeared in Jungkook’s eyes but Jimin stopped him from saying anything, “It’s okay. Let’s just go.”

He nodded and they walked down the hall together.

Jungkook wandered to the field after class to wait for Jimin. As he sat down, he scanned the crowds for the familiar tank top and basketball shorts combination but didn’t find it. He was considering calling Jimin just to be annoying but his phone rang before he could go through with it.

The universe was always stopping Jungkook from being a brat, it was actually kind of rude if he thought about it.

Jungkook picked up when he saw it was his mother, a smile immediately spreading across his face, “Mom! I thought you’d forgotten about me-”

“Why hasn’t Jimin called me? It’s been a month!”

“Yeah, missed you too,” Jungkook leaned back to lay his head on the ground but was met with a pair of legs instead. Jimin was sitting cross-legged behind him, and Jungkook grinned at him from his lap. “He’s here now, why don’t you nag him yourself.” He put the phone on speaker and placed it on his stomach.

“Park Jimin? Is there a reason I haven’t heard from you in a month? Or are you too old to talk to me now?”

Jimin winced at the harsh tone and put a hand over Jungkook’s mouth when he started giggling. “Hyejung, it’s not like that. You know it’s harder for me to find the time right now and-”

“Mm. I thought you’d be the type to make the time, not find it. Guess I was wrong.”

“You know, I see where you get your pettiness from,” Jimin said drily to Jungkook. Then, picking up the phone, he said, “Hyejung, I swear I’ll come to visit soon. For now, though, we’ve really got to study, okay?”

“Fine, fine. I’ll grant you leniency just this once. Pick up your phone next time, okay?”

“I was in class!” Jimin exclaimed defensively.

Jungkook clucked his tongue in disappointment, “You know that doesn’t matter to her.”

“Whatever you say,” Hyejung said apathetically, “I’ll leave you to it, then. Is Jungkook still there?”

“Yes, I am. Thanks for noticing, oh dear mother of mine,” Jungkook plucked the phone out of Jimin’s hand and turned it off speakerphone, holding it to his ear. He said a few more okays and alrights until finally, the call ended.

“She calls me more than my own mom,” Jimin shook his head in disbelief. Jungkook grabbed his Chemistry textbook and handed it to Jimin, who opened it up and rested it on Jungkook’s chest.

“Well, if I knew your mom, she’d call me more than my mom. We were clearly switched at birth. And don’t put the book here, I can’t look at the material if I’m trying to study. Oh, that reminds me actually, what are we planning for the summer? Are we finally visiting yours?”

“Are you actually going to study?”

“Uh, probably not.”

“Idiot.

Jimin closed the book and placed it on the grass beside him, leaning back on his wrists. The sun was pleasantly warm. Jungkook tilted his head back in Jimin’s lap and pinched the skin on his neck. “Hey, answer me. Are we going to your place? You’ve never even told me where exactly you lived before coming to Busan. I don’t even know the names of your parents! Wouldn’t it be nice to, I don’t know, spend some time there?”

Jimin sighed and looked down at Jungkook, tweaking his nose gently before saying, “I’m sorry, Jungkook. Can I just come back to yours this summer?”

“Of course, but Jimin…” Jungkook suddenly sat up and turned to face Jimin. He seemed to struggle to find the words and then finally decided on, “Just, I’m here. You know, to talk or whatever. You didn’t tell me then, and you aren’t telling me now, and that’s okay. I just don’t want you to carry whatever this is around forever. Okay?”

Jimin smiled and ruffled Jungkook’s hair, “Okay, little Jeon. Now really, you have an exam in less than 30 minutes, shouldn’t you study?”

“Shit, yeah. You know what, I’m going to study outside of the class. Maybe I’ll find people in my class to study with. To be clear, people is Kim Taehyung,” Jungkook shoved his textbook into his bag and blew a kiss to Jimin as he got up.

“Love you, babe! Wish me luck!” Jimin groaned in embarrassment but wished him luck anyways, waving reluctantly.

From the outside, it looked like something more. But Jimin knew they were just friends. Just friends.

It had been 30 minutes since his class ended and 20 minutes since Jimin first received his text, and Jungkook still wasn’t here. Jimin was waiting in the dance studio, scrolling through Instagram without really paying attention to what posts he was liking. Jungkook had told Jimin to meet him there, saying he’d come after “talking to Taehyung about a thing”. Their conversation had gone as follows:

5:40 p.m

>bitch meet me at the practice room we gon get shit DONe

5:41 p.m

istg shit better not just mean ur shit<

i actually need to practice dont further convince me that ur brain is the size of ur dick (re: small)<

5:41 p.m

>first of all. im an angel ofc im helping u with ur shit ? ?

>second of all if u wanted to compare my brain to smth small and Really offend me u shoudve just used urself

5:41 p.m

hahahahhahahaahaha! die.<

5:42 p.m

>also i have a juicy story about a certain Kim bring ur small ass ears so u can enjoy listenin.

>on second thought i might have to bring a megaphone so the sound can travel thru ur puny ear canals : ))

5:42 p.m

im sorry didn’t i Just tell u to die<

5:50 p.m

i have a high maintenance ass it cant sit on anything that isn’t plush for this long<

5:52 p.m

>u kno what they say sit down be humble

>srry tho got caught up with tae, ill be there soon

It was now 6 PM.

Jimin didn’t mind Taehyung, really didn’t. The dude seemed nice enough. Jimin just felt this tug in his stomach when Taehyung was apparently enough to make Jungkook completely forget about him. Okay, not forget about him, but that’s what it felt like.

He decided to get changed and start practicing, not knowing when Jungkook would decide to show up. Just as he switched out his normal tank top for a workout tank top, Jungkook burst into the studio, a grin on his face and his easel under his arm.

“You won’t believe how fucking slick I am,” was the first thing he said. Jimin gave him a small smile and plugged his phone into the speakers. He put on a short violin piece he could warm up to. Was he acting petty? Yes. Did he have a good reason? Not really. Was he going to keep acting petty anyways? Absolutely.

“Well, aren’t you going to ask why?” Jungkook’s words were bursting out of him with barely contained energy. He swiftly set up his easel and squeezed out the necessary paints onto his palette.

Jimin stayed focused on the way his leg slid across the floor a little too lazily. It looked sloppy, but Jimin could fix that with time. As he was about to reach the climax of the composition, it abruptly switched to the song he was using for his showcase.

Jimin groaned, “Jungkook! Just let me warm up and then I’ll humour you about Prince Charming.” He watched through the mirror as Jungkook put Jimin’s phone back down and practically skipped over to him. Jungkook smiled when Jimin sighed in defeat and placed his hands on Jungkook’s hips from behind.

“How do you even know the choreo?” Jimin asked suspiciously when Jungkook began moving to the beats. Jimin’s fingers moved up and down Jungkook’s body, tapping rhythmically and eventually landing on Jungkook’s hands.

“I only know some, not all of it. I pay attention when you dance, obviously,” Jungkook pulled Jimin flush against his body by placing his hand on the small of Jimin’s back, he let him lean back and then let go, somehow managing to grab his hands before he fell to the ground. Jimin slid through Jungkook’s legs and stood up, looking at him in disbelief.

“That move was too dangerous for anyone but my partner to do, you moron! What if I got hurt?”

“Calm down, Jimin. I went to your partner and asked for pointers the other day because I knew I’d be practicing with you and I wanted to do it right. That’s why I know the choreo so well, okay? Jesus, stop exposing my ass,” Jimin slapped Jungkook on the arm and turned off the music, ignoring the younger’s cries of pain.

He stood there with his arms crossed and Jungkook stared at him, “What? What did I do this time?”

“Jeon Jungkook, you learned not only my part of the dance but my partner’s part. I don’t even know when you did this! That’s a lot of time spent doing something that’s completely irrelevant for you, you could’ve used that time to, oh I don’t know, study for your exams!” Jimin didn’t know why he was so angry, he just was. Jungkook sputtered for words and in a split second, his face took on more annoyance than confusion.

“Why are you getting so mad? I was trying to help, Jimin!” Jungkook took a step towards Jimin but Jimin held out his hands.

“I don’t want you to help me that much! You… you have no right to!”

“What?”

“You have no right,” Jimin said, his voice tight, “You’re nothing more than a friend, Jungkook. That’s it. You’re not my boyfriend or something that you’d feel the need to go out of your way like this just to help me out. I’m not that important. God, just… just focus on your life and I’ll focus on mine. You’re messing everything up!”

Somewhere along the way, Jimin had started crying. He didn’t want to be this way. It wasn’t fair to either of them, but he didn’t know how to stop. Everything he’d said was true on some level, but who was Jimin really mad at? Because it certainly wasn’t Jungkook.

Despite how hurt Jungkook appeared, he still managed to say in a calm voice, “Jimin, if something’s wrong, we’ll work it out together. Just tell me.”

That was it. That was the moment. Jimin liked Jungkook. A lot. Too much.

“Don’t do that! Oh my god, Jungkook! You’re hurt! I hurt you, why aren’t you yelling at me? Please, just…” Jimin dragged the heel of his palm along his face, choking on his words. Without thinking, he grabbed his phone and bag and moved past Jungkook, out of the studio, not turning to look once despite the younger’s pleas.

Jimin had fucked up, and he couldn’t deal with what that meant right now. When he got back to his dorm, his phone beeped with a notification. Jimin chucked his shoes off and jumped into bed, pulling his phone out of his pocket to check it.

jungkookie

>i asked him to be my chem tutor. that’s what i was gonna tell u. talk to me when ure ready.

Jimin felt like he was going to start crying again. He buried his head in his pillow for a moment and then collected himself, scrolling through his contacts to find someone in particular.

“So yeah, that’s what it is.”

“Min, you can’t be serious.”

“Shut up, Hoseok. It’s not that far-fetched. I don’t think.”

“Yes it is! I mean, the whole you being in love with him-”

“Love is a strong word.”

“-thing is not far-fetched. But the fact that it took you so long to figure it out? I spent all of your stupid high school years listening to you talk about this dude every Monday afternoon and every time I even suggested you might have a crush on him, you shut me down. And now you figure it out?”

“First of all, it’s not my fault that half your dance ‘lessons’ were just us talking. You never let me respond to your ‘how was your day’ with ‘good’, you always wanted to hear everything. So if anything, it’s your fault for being nosy.”

“An unwarranted attack on my teaching style, but okay.”

“Also, I didn’t like him in high school! I really don’t think I did. Something’s changed now. God, I fucked up bad.”

“Yeah, of course something’s changed. Someone’s moving in on your man. And Jimin, stop sniffling, you’re not a moody teenager anymore.”

“I’m upset! And, he’s not my man! In fact, he isn’t even my boy. He’s just. Jungkook.”

“You infuriate me, Min.”

“Really? I think I’m kind of cute.”

“I will hang up right now, find a way to physically reach through phone screens, call you back, and strangle you.”

“Seriously, though. Hoseok. Please. Tell me what to do about this.”

“Jimin, just do what you should’ve done in the first place, tell him how you feel. Any other option over complicates things and before you know it, you guys will be in your 30s and won’t have spoken to each other in years because you were too afraid to admit your feelings but you also couldn’t stand to see him with someone else so you just ran away.”

“Oddly specific.”

“What can I say, I’m an excellent foreshadower.”

“I’m going to take my time. I don’t want to mess up anything between him and Taehyung right now.”

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Right now would be IDEAL to tell him so that you can get it over with before he gets serious with Taehyung.”

“I… you’re right. Sure, yeah, I can do that. Thanks, Hoseok. I’ll call you when I plan on visiting.”

“Of course, Min. I’ll be waiting, as usual. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Jungkook knocked on Jimin’s door, trying not to be too loud. It was the middle of the night, approaching 1:15 AM now. Jimin hadn’t answered any of his texts of calls, and he was beginning to worry. Jimin’s words from earlier hadn’t stopped bouncing around his head. He heard the sound of footsteps coming from inside and instantly stood a little taller. As soon as the door opened, Jungkook lunged to hug Jimin, who nearly toppled over wish so much extra weight on him.

“What the fuck, Jimin,” Jungkook said in Jimin’s ear. His words implied that he was angry but his tone was soft, relieved. “I thought you’d finally drowned yourself in beer of something.”

Jimin pushed Jungkook away and upon seeing his face, Jungkook froze. Jimin’s eyes were bloodshot, his cheeks had chalky streaks running down them and his nose was rubbed raw. His hair was tousled every which way, as if he’d been pulling it over and over again for hours. Which he could’ve been doing, for all Jungkook knew. He looked over Jimin’s shoulders and noticed the bottle of wine situated on the desk.

“Guess I wasn’t far from the truth,” Jungkook said softly. He looked into Jimin’s eyes, “Tell me how to help you.” Jimin sniffed and shook his head, eyes glazed over but a crease forming in between his eyebrows. He stepped away from Jungkook and curled up on his bed. Jungkook drew in a long breath and then moved to shut the door, silently thanking the gods Jimin’s roommate never came back to the dorms before 3 in the morning. He lay down on the mattress beside Jimin and grabbed a hold of his face.

“Tell me. Please, Jimin,” Jungkook’s voice cracked, pained from having to see his best friend like this. In all the years he’d known Jimin, he’d never looked so utterly heartbroken.

“No one. Jungkook, no one’s ever going to – to love me. Isn’t that fucking pathetic? Not you, nuh-not my family, no one.” And Jungkook had definitely heard this before, but never so intensely, never full of such conviction. Still, he felt himself breathe a little easier knowing that nothing absolutely awful had happened to Jimin.

“Jimin, you know that’s not true. You have so many amazing qualities.”

“I’m not a fuck. Fucking scholar luh-like Taehyung,” Jimin said in a small, broken voice. He looked so hurt, so fragile. He looked the way you can only look after being emotionally drained to the bone. “I don’t have nice eyes, or a deep – deep voice.”

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed, when had Taehyung come into the picture? “Jimin, being academically gifted isn’t exactly number one on the ‘qualities I want my boyfriend to have’ list that most people have. You’re absolutely gorgeous, radiant, even. You’ve got these soft eyes, and a cute nose, and full lips. Your voice is light and dreamy and perfect for you because you’ve always been fairy-like. And you’re one hell of a dancer! God, when I see you move on stage it’s like I can see you completely change the atmosphere. You leave a trail of emotion behind you that touches the hearts of everyone in the room. You give the best pep-talks in the world and you have the purest, biggest heart out of anyone I know. You are capable of giving so much love, it only makes sense that you’re constantly inviting it back in. You could get literally anyone in the world.”

Jimin’s eyes sharpened for a fraction of a moment and he stared right at Jungkook. “Anyone?” he whispered.

“Anyone,” Jungkook confirmed. He pulled Jimin into his chest. “Now, go to sleep.”

Jimin mumbled something into his chest and in a few minutes, was fast asleep. Jungkook sighed into the dark and hugged Jimin a little bit closer, a little bit tighter.

“Wake up, Jimin. It’s time for class. Well, your class, not mine.”

“Hnghh. Bwekhfusht.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking, but I can’t today. Seriously, get up. Jimin. Jimin? Park, I dare you to get the fuck up.”

“Urngh muh hehhd.”

“Yeah I left some Advil for that. Listen, if you don’t get up, you’re admitting to being a cheater. Ah, there you go! Just don’t lie back down.”

“UNGHH.”

“Fine, I’m leaving… call me if you need me?”

“Shaddupp.”

“Cool, bye.”

Around 5 PM that day, Jimin finally stopped thinking about all the bad things that could happen if he told Jungkook that he had a little thing for him and decided to just do it. The night before had been a complete disaster. Actually, the whole day had been pretty shitty. Jungkook didn’t deserve that, but in the end, he stayed with Jimin. Jungkook stayed with Jimin.

He needed to tell Jungkook how he felt before Taehyung turned into something more than a crush. Jimin wasn’t sure what brought on this sudden burst of confidence and adrenaline but he knew it wouldn’t last for long so he needed to act while it fueled him.

He grabbed his shoes and raced out of the dorm, intent on telling Jungkook everything.

Drinking to the point of wanting to cry for a week straight had not been Jimin’s intention when he’d pulled out the wine last night. He’d just wanted to relax and empty his mind of any confusing thoughts. Before he knew it, old insecurities began creeping back and he couldn’t take it, he broke down. Jimin often wondered why people said they “drink to forget”. Whenever he drank, he just seemed to revisit the worst memories among the ones he’d naturally forgotten. What a scam.

Jimin was half-way across the field, being poured on by the rain to the point where he couldn’t keep his eyes open, when he literally ran into a familiar body. Jimin fell to the ground and looked across at Jungkook, who was rubbing his head with a grin on his face. He got up, laughing, and extended a hand to Jimin. A shot of energy flowed through his body as Jimin was pulled to his feet, he smiled through the rain and rubbed the part of Jungkook’s head he’d knocked against. Jimin opened his mouth to say something but before he could, Jungkook spoke.

“I love you.”

Jimin stared at him, not quite believing what he’d just heard. It was like all the noise from the downpour had been cut, like the only sounds that mattered were his beating heart and Jungkook’s words. Despite his brain not entirely comprehending the words, a smile began to stretch across his face.

“I love you so much and I know it’s kind of out of the blue, but I just had to tell you. I don’t think being friends is going to work anymore.” Jungkook had an insanely wide grin on his face.

Jimin couldn’t contain how happy he was a laugh bubbled out of him, loud and free. It was oddly appropriate, the confession happening on the field. They’d been here just two nights ago, saying their ‘I love you’s for a completely different reason. Jimin was so caught up in the moment he didn’t feel his hand running through his wet hair, didn’t hear himself clearly until he’d said-

“I love you too.” There. It was as simple as that. And now Jimin was downright giddy.

Jungkook threw his head back as he laughed and then grabbed Jimin’s face in his hands, eyes shining, “Do you think he’ll say that? When I tell him?”

Just as fast as the giddiness came, it disappeared. Jimin’s smile started to fall, the rain was making his vision blurry.

“Who,” Jimin asked, but he knew.

“Taehyung, silly. Who else? Okay, let’s start again. You’re Taehyung and I’m me…”

Jungkook’s words faded into the distance. The downpour that had gone silent suddenly thundered in his ears and Jimin couldn’t hear his own heartbeat but he could feel it. He could feel it slow down and speed up and he wished that eventually, it would stop altogether. Hope was a dangerous thing, Jimin felt like an idiot for inviting it into his life with open arms. He should’ve known better.

“..okay? Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m actually about to fucking tell him this!” Jungkook pulled Jimin into a hug, completely enveloping him.

In that moment, Jimin hugged back. He held onto Jungkook as tight as he could and when they pulled apart, Jimin thought about how lucky it was that it had started to rain.

How lucky it was that Jungkook wouldn’t be able to tell tears apart from raindrops.

Jungkook and Taehyung had hung out all morning under the pretense of studying for Chemistry. Jungkook had come back to his dorm incredibly happy, knowing that whatever it was he had with Taehyung was special. He was pretty sure he was in love. He’d decided to go tell him not 1 hour after they’d gone back to their respective buildings. Jungkook had ran into Jimin and then headed to Taehyung’s place. Jungkook had told Taehyung he loved him. Taehyung had kissed him on the spot.

Jimin knew because Jungkook hadn’t stopped talking about it for an hour.

Now it was Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook. Although, Jimin felt like a third wheel too often so he spent a lot of time in the studio. Jungkook never finished the painting of Jimin, he ended up doing one of Taehyung instead, who remained as charming as ever and became Jimin’s friend despite Jimin not wanting him to. It was hard to dislike Taehyung in any setting, really. The couple came to Jimin’s showcase before final exams started and brought him flowers.

“Just like old times, huh,” Jimin had joked to Taehyung, not much energy in his voice despite feeling like he was on cloud nine, like he usually did after a performance.

Taehyung had smiled with an emotion indistinguishable to Jimin, “Yeah, better times. When I didn’t know Jungkook.”

Jungkook had playfully argued with him about this statement but, for some reason, Jimin had sensed the words had been directed at him more than Jungkook. He’d felt as if Taehyung had looked right into his head and pulled out his ugliest thoughts to display in front of the world. But there was empathy behind the words, and in a twisted sort of way, Jimin had felt like Taehyung understood him better than Jungkook.

Jimin and Jungkook no longer hung out together as much, which was a given. Jimin had to learn to find new friends. He met Yoongi, an aspiring pianist, and spent any time he wasn’t with Jungkook and Taehyung with him. They were from the same town and Jimin had been mortified to hear that Yoongi knew about his family, but it was easy for them to be together. Things seemed to be getting better for Jimin, except they weren’t, obviously.

There was no overnight remedy for heartbreak, or even a one-month remedy. Jimin knew from experience.

On one particularly average day, Jimin got a call that destroyed any thoughts of his own pathetic heartbreak.

Within an hour, he had packed up his things and headed to the train station.

Jungkook and Taehyung scoured the windows for any sign of Jimin. A group of people began boarding the train right in front of Jungkook and he had to use all his patience not to yell at all of them to move it, already!

“Baby,” Taehyung called, “I’ll look down there, you keep looking up ahead, okay?”

Jungkook nodded hastily and moved up the platform. Jimin’s roommate had called him half-an-hour ago, asking him if he knew why Jimin was planning on going back home. According to him, all of Jimin’s stuff had been packed up and the place looked spotless except for a note left on his pillow.

God, he was going to kill Jimin.

Jimin’s face suddenly blurred past him. Jungkook stopped jogging and backtracked, staring at Jimin through the window, who looked exhausted. Jungkook climbed into the closest possible entrance, shoving past a bunch of other people and found Jimin’s booth. He sat down in front of him, trying to stay calm.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Jungkook questioned coldly.

“Home. I… my family needs me and, in all honesty, I think I need them too,” Jimin replied in a heavy voice.

“And you were going to tell me when?”

“Jungkook, I had no time, my mother-”

“God Jimin, it’s like we’re not even friends anymore!” Jungkook cried. He stood up and tugged on Jimin’s sleeve. “Come on, you’re not going anywhere. You still… you still have to finish exams! And I still need you here, you can’t just up and leave.”

Jimin pulled his arm away forcefully and looked at Jungkook. His eyebrows were drawn in frustration and his eyes shone with tears, “Jungkook. My mother’s been in an accident. I don’t care if you need me. I’m sorry. I’m going.”

Jungkook’s anger immediately left his face. His muscles relaxed and his eyes softened when he looked at Jimin.

“Jimin… I’m so sorry.” He pulled Jimin up on his feet so he could hug him.

“I want to dare you to stay, but I know you’re going to cheat,” Jungkook murmured into Jimin’s ear.

Jimin melted in Jungkook’s arms, “You’re right this time, little Jeon.”

“I’m right every time, little Park,” Jungkook leaned back from Jimin, arms still caught on his waist. “Promise me I’ll see you again? You’re going home, right? Tell me where that is.”

Jimin didn’t say anything, he twisted one of the rings off his finger and placed it gently into Jungkook’s palm before kissing him on the forehead. Jimin led Jungkook to the open entrance and with a small push, Jungkook ended up on the platform. His face twisted in confusion.

“Jimin, tell me where home is.”

“I dare you to be okay without me,” Jimin called out, fresh tears streaming down his face. The train began to move slowly. Jungkook was panicking now, he held onto one of the handrails and fell into a light jog.

“Jimin! Tell me before you leave. What if I can’t find you again? Please,” Jungkook choked on his words and lost his grip on the rail. He stumbled and tried catching up to Jimin, but the platform was about to end.

“Don’t you dare cheat, Jeon Jungkook,” Jimin called out, he couldn’t help but sob. Jungkook stood on the platform, looking like he’d had his entire world stolen from his. He could’ve told him, it would’ve been easy. But somewhere inside of him, Jimin really didn’t want to. He didn’t want Jungkook to be able to find him.

Jimin caught sight of Taehyung running to Jungkook and coming to a halt when he realized Jimin was nearly gone. Even from a distance, Jimin was still able to see that look in Taehyung’s eyes.

Only later, when Jimin was half-way home, did he realize what that look meant, what it had always meant: regret.

And that was the last time we ever saw that Jimin. Your Daddy cried a lot that day, and ever since then, he’s never taken off that silver ring. Jimin never contacted us again, and we couldn’t find him. He’d come from somewhere else to study at Jungkook’s high school and he’d stayed with a host family. Whenever Jungkook had asked Jimin about his life back home, he’d never answered any of the questions. When we decided to get married, Jungkook tried asking the University or even his high school for information about Park Jimin. But he was never able to find answers.

Getting in the way of Jimin and Jungkook’s relationship is the biggest regret of my life, and I don’t have a lot. Jungkook didn’t know Jimin liked him, and Jimin never told me or Jungkook. But I knew there was something between them, something that could’ve developed into a stronger love than your father and I had for each other.

Today, I trust you with this. Find Jimin. Give Jungkook another shot at happiness. Make him see that there’s always only been Jimin for him, and no one else – not truly.

I love you, Jimin.

Forever and always in your heart,

Taehyung.

Mina wiped away her tears as she stared at the picture paper-clipped to the last page of her Daddy and someone else who was probably Jimin. She folded the papers and pressed them back into the envelope, putting it aside so that she could breathe a little easier. She wasn’t completely sure how she was going to find this Jimin, or even get her Daddy to open up to her about him, but she did know one thing.

Her Daddy deserved a happily ever after, and she was going to be the one to give it to him.

#jikook fanfics #jikook fanfiction #jikook #kookmin #kookmin fics #kookmin fanfics #kookmin fanfiction #jikook fics

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scribbles-spills-the-ink · 6 years

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Mockingbird| Connor x fem! Reader

A/n: All of my x readers contain a reader with a disability, sometimes the disability is important, other times it’s just an extension to the character. Abled bodied readers can still read/like/comment/ and reblog, of course.

Warnings: Cussing because Hank is in here, transfer aid (wheelchair), the reader being disabled is important to the chapter and the one somber moment is with them.

Style: fluff + angst

Dedicated to- @kxylla

A/N: I think at one point the POV switches to first person by accident, if you spot it please tell me so I can fix it. Thank you!

Third Person POV:

The warmth of the suns comforting glow draped over you as you sat on your mint green couch, which was pressed against your bay window. Your wanderlust filled eyes deciphered each and every word that was tattooed onto the coffee stained page.

“Until I feared I would lose it, I never loved to read. One does not love breathing.”

Those words were highlighted in a bright pink and you smiled at the memory of when you did that. Of course you were reading To Kill a Mockingbird, by Harper Lee. It was the only physical book you owned, because it was your favorite, and with the Android Revolution that was brewing outside your window: it seemed appropriate.

You paused your reading to take a sip of your warm coffee that rested on your stand by the bed, but just then, you heard a knock at your door. You sighed in disappointment and placed your plain book mark inside your book and gently sat it on the coffee table.

You slid into your wheelchair, smoothed out your yellow skirt, and fixed your cream colored crop top as to make yourself presentable for the unexpected guest. As you pushed it, the wheelchair made it’s way to the door gracefully and you opened it.

Connor and Hank stared back at you urgently, and it didn't take long for you to notice that Connor was drenched in blue blood.

“Oh my god!” You exclaimed with a hand over your mouth. “What happened to you-” You pulled Connor inside the house, and Hank followed suit. “-are you hurt!?”

“Ms. a/n, need I remind you that I am an android, therefore, I can not be injured?” Connor replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

You rolled your eyes as Hank answered you, “He’s not hurt, Y/n, there was a misstep on the mission and he got in the middle of it, but he’s fine.”

You sighed in relief before you continued, “So why are you guys here?”

“What?” Hank snickered. “Are we not welcomed at casa de y/n?”

You playfully glared at Hank, “That’s not what I meant and you know it, now stop pulling on my leg!”

“I believe that it's imperative to inform you that your leg is not being pulled.” You and Hank stared at Connor in disbelief, and sensing that there was a miscommunication, Connor looked up what you said.

“Oh, it was an expression,” He concluded. “why can’t you human’s ever speak literally.”

“Because it’s funny seeing you confused.” you jokingly answered.

Hank cleared his throat and stated, “We were hoping that you could wash up Connor’s clothes for him, and I was hoping that you could hold onto him for a bit.”

“He’s your android and your partner-” You remined him “-shouldn’t he be by your side at all times?”

“I should be,” Connor butted in. “but the Lieutenant seems to find one of my behaviors unacceptable.”

You snickered, “He finds all of your behaviors unacceptable, be more specific.”

“He fucking sleeps standing up!” Hank exclaimed and threw his hands in the air. “And when he doesn’t sleep, the shit head wanders around my house!”

“I only did that one time, Lieutenant!”

“Do you know how fucking creepy that is!?”

You waved your hands up and down, indicating them to lower their voices, “Okay, okay, why are y’all yelling?”

“I can’t stand him anymore!” Hank pointed his hand at Connor. “Shit, he’s driving me insane!”

“Alright!” You exclaimed. “I’ll take him but I’m not going to be responsible for dropping him off at work, you better come get him.”

“Deal, as long as he’s out of my hair,” Hank muttered to himself, even though, Connor and I could her him perfectly.

I rolled my eyes, “You leaving?”

Hank had grabbed his coat and already had his hand on the door knob, “I’ve got fifteen hours without this asshole breathing over my shoulder, hell yes I’m leaving.” He said before he slammed the door shut.

With a snicker you shook your head and turned to Connor, “There’s a bathroom down the hall, take off whatever you need washed and I’ll give you some of my brothers old clothes.”

Connor nodded before he disappeared into the bathroom, and while he did that you wheeled yourself into your bedroom. Inside the closet were boxes of your brothers old clothes from the time when he lived with you, you really have to remind him to come get them, but they would work for now.

You pulled out a large tank top which had ‘I Love Dogs’ printed on it- you laughed at how appropriate it was -and a pair of comfortable shorts. Before you were able to put them back, you spotted a figure from the corner of your eye. There, in the middle of the hallway, stood Connor shirt and pant less.

Heat rushed to your neck and face as you buried your face in your hands. For as smart as the android is during investigations he’s so naïve toward the real world it was unbelievable, and his lack of fear or humiliation didn’t help.

“Ms L/n, I have removed the articles of clothing you wished to-”

“Yes, I see that!” You blindly felt around the bed for the extra cloths and reached them out to him once you found them. “Please, go and change back in the bathroom.”

You assumed that Connor had found out what had made you so flustered as he replied, “Why don’t I change in here?”

“Connor!” You squeaked and parted your fingers just in time to see the amused smirk on his face before he turned around.

Once he left you lowered your hands and instead of be resentful, you laughed. You laughed because it felt more like an inside joke than anything else, and despite it’s undertones, it felt innocent.

You grabbed the blue stained clothes from the arm of your office chair before you transferred from your manuel to electric wheelchair. Pushing the joystick forward you maneuvered through the house and to the laundry room.

You quickly threw his t-shirt in with the other whites and left his pants with the darks as you decided to wait until the morning to wash them. As you closed the washing machines’ top and left the room you spotted Connor near your reading spot, To Kill a Mockingbird open in his hands.

The orange and purplish sunset created a silhouette around his body and shadows along his face. The most entrancing, however, were his brown eyes, as suddenly brown wasn't and accurate way to describe them. They were warm and comforting like the sun that shined through your window, yet sweet and enticing like honey.

"I never knew you liked to read," Connor's silver voice broke through your daze of imagination. "To Kill a Mockingbird is a good choice, have you read it before?"

"I-I read it back in school," You answered nervously and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, "and it- it was my favorite."

His goofy imitation of a smile cracked through his machinery mask, "Is this your favorite line?" He asked before he recited, "Until I feared I would lose it, I never loved to read. One does not love breathing."

A nostalgic smile appeared on your face, "Yes, it is, although there are many others in there."

"May I ask you a personal question?" Connor asked as he gently placed the bookmark in the book and then the book on the coffee stand.

"Go on."

"Why is that your favorite line?"

Your bookworm heart swelled at his question, as you had only wished for someone to ask you a question like this one. You had always wanted someone to discuss your favorite stories with, but didn't because of the fear of being labeled as a nerd or freak. Those were childish thoughts, but by time you learned that the opinions of others didn't matter, it was too late.

"Back in eighth grade" you tensed as the memories started to flood your mind. "I was just getting used to my wheelchair and one of the comments I got a lot was, 'it must be nice not having to walk everywhere.' I hated that, because those kids who said that to me, they had no idea how jealous I was of them."

You and Connor sat down on the couch as Connor waited patiently for you to continue.

"Then in English, we started reading To Kill a Mockingbird. The class had hardly gotten pass chapter one and I already knew that I was going to love this book, so I went out and bought my own copy. Then we read that line and it hit me so hard, because I knew what it felt like to have something you take for granted taken away from you. For Scout it was reading for me it was walking."

"Until you couldn't walk, you never valued being able to." Connor concluded as you finished your story.

You spared him a sad smile and nodded, "It was something I took from granted. I'm okay without being able to walk now, I just-" You paused for a moment to compose your thoughts and your memories. "-I just wish I did more with it while I could.”

You and Connor sat in a comfortable silence for a moment until an interesting question came to your mind. "Is there anything you think you take for granted Connor? Anything you can't imagine a world without?"

Connor stared at his hands as he somewhat skipped over your question. "I don't think so Y/-"

He stopped mid sentence as he brought his eyes to meet yours. Your head was tilted in ceriousity and your eyes, while tired, still were sparked with wanderlust. The moon transformed your iris into a kaleidoscope and your face had never looked so soft, so kind, or so sweet.

On his temple his LED flashed rapidly between yellow and red as his next words tumbled out raw, and unfiltered.

"Maybe...maybe there is one thing."

[SOFTWARE INSTABILITY^]

#dbh connor x reader #connor #hank anderson #dbh hank #dbh connor #x reader #disabled reader #to kill a mockingbird #bookworm! reader #soft! reader #soft! connor

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violettelueur · 3 years

Text

— JUJUTSU KAISEN SERIES : EPISODE TWENTY-FOUR PREVIEW

SAITAMA URAMI EAST JUNIOR HIGH - 1ST YEAR

“Here you go, you’ll need this”

A FEW WEEKS LATER

“I’m not good at organising things”

“I don’t have the time”

“I don’t like helping people”

“Liar,” Fushiguro muttered under his breath before closing his eyes again to fall into a quick nap while repeating the last words you had said to the students around you.

“I don’t like helping people”

“Y/N, I found you,” someone said in relief, causing Fushiguro’s ears to spike up once he knew the familiar tone to the voice that decided to enter the conversation.

“Don’t bother your sister too much...okay?”

“I don’t like helping people”

SAITAMA URAMI EAST JUNIOR HIGH - 2ND YEAR

“Hakufuku”

“Y/N…”

#violettelueur ☕️#i actually never knew how long this will take me to write #but thank you all for making me productive today #expect this episode to be out at Saturday

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elvendara · 6 years

Text

Yooran Halloween Week 2018

Putting most of this under the cut, I got carried away, again.

TRIGGER WARNING: SUICIDE, DEATH, DEPRESSION, SUICIDAL THOUGHTS

Day 4: Ghostly Light

“Um, hi, hello there.” The being smiled at the new arrival. He looked sullen and agitated. These were the newcomers they always gave to him because he was such a calming presence. Things didn’t always go well, but the being enjoyed the role he played. Helping people come to terms with their new reality and integrating them into the new world.

“Where the hell am I?” the red head growled.

“You’ve crossed over. It will take your mind some time to adjust.”

“What the hell are you?” the man took a step back, amber eyes wide and wary. He was not afraid, humans were always afraid. This one was different.

The being hovered above the makeshift ground, fog swirling beneath. It was easier giving them something familiar upon their arrival. His ghostly light illuminated him from the inside out, his vague form was humanoid with pits for eyes, slits for a nose, and a gaping mouth.

“I am your guide, here to hel…” his words failed as the soul flickered out of existence. The being tilted his head in a very human way.

“What the fuck!” the man reappeared, eyes blinking in confusion. “What just happen…” he disappeared again, and the being was flabbergasted. He flipped through his book, unsure what to do. Yes, there was the name. Saeran Choi, he had the right person, but then why was he disappearing?

The man popped back in and this time the being grabbed onto him, intent on keeping him there. Amber eyes flashed towards him, a grimace on his face as he once more blinked away. The being looked around, but there was no one to confer with. He could call one of the greater beings for help, but he assumed time was of the essence with this soul. Without a second thought, and knowing he would surely get into trouble, he tilted into the mortal world, homing in on the lost soul.

The man was on the ground, in the middle of the road. Clearly, he had been struck by a vehicle, yet there was none to be seen. A hit and run then, the being had seen many of those deaths. Amber eyes locked on him and the being knelt by the man, grasping his hand. There was blood dribbling from his mouth and a pool directly under his shoulders. His other arm appeared to be broken, as it lay in an unnatural way.

“What is keeping you here? What is it?” the being whispered.

“Noth…ing…pl…ease…please…” he gurgled.

The being could tell the man wanted to die, but his will was keeping him bound to his mortal body. He’d never seen anything like this, when a soul’s mind was so conflicted. The eyes he was looking into went dead, life fully drained, but seconds later, they were alive and pained. The being made a decision, one he knew he might regret, but he’d come this far, might as well go all the way.

He lay his ghostly hand on the man and forced healing energy into his body. The visible wounds healed, and the mangled arm righted itself. The man’s breathing became easier and less labored.

“Wh..what did you do?” he gasped. “No! No…don’t leave me!” he wailed as the being began to fade away. Mortal eyes could not see his visage, unless they were close to death.

“I shall watch over you. Live…live!” the being whispered.

Once he was back in his own realm he sighed, pleased with himself. He watched, through the fog, as the man rose and without incident, made his way home. He continued to watch for days, weeks, months, time was meaningless to him. The man still seemed sad, but he was making an effort. His brother helped immensely in that department and the being was thankful there was someone that could take care of him physically.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” a voice boomed behind him as another apparition materialized, red eyes glaring, white hair and wings shaking with anger. His alabaster body trembled, his hand grasping at air as if wishing he held the sword on his hip in it, ready to smite the being.

“Hyun!” the being held his hands up in attrition as the angel grasped his arm and yanked him close. The disappeared and reappeared in the garden. The being gasped, this was bad, the garden was bad.

“Consequences! Actions have consequences, did you not think about that? His name was written in the book, it was his day to die. That was not a choice!”

“But...he…his will was strong, he wanted to live.”

“Not HIS choice!” the angel roared. “Nor was it yours!” he led the being through the shifting path of the garden, his stride long and hurried. “Someone had to take his place young one. Someone who was not yet fated to die. Another life cut short for your insolence.”

The being gasped, that had not occurred to him, of course there needed to be a balance. Life and death, always a balance.

“Not only that, but because the boy’s name is already written in the book with the date of his death in the past, he is not fated to die again.”

“Bb…I…di…” the being stilled his tongue, there was nothing he could say or do to make this right now. What did that mean for Saeran? Was he now immortal?

Hyun threw him down and the being crumpled to the grassy ground. A pair of silver boots manifested before his eyes and he gulped in fear.

“You will pay for your dereliction of duty.” The husky voice uttered. The being lifted his head and stared into the grey orbs of his destruction. There was no use in begging. He would pay the price; his only regret was that he would not know what would happen to Saeran.

Jumin’s hand descended on him, he placed it over his indistinct forehead. A brilliant light flashed, and the being was blinded.

“You shall be missed young one.”

………………

There was…something…it…what…was this pain? Yes…pain…he had heard about it, listened to the description of the sensation. This was assuredly pain. Eyes flared wide and he grasped at his neck. Something was digging into his…flesh…this was flesh! He’d felt it often enough. Something snapped above him, and he fell, his chest heaving. Lungs, these were lungs and they needed to be filled with air, air he hadn’t been able to intake because of the…rope around his neck. He yanked it off and threw it on the floor. A hardwood floor. He looked around, his mind disjointed, unclear, terrified. Yet another sensation he had never felt before. It was a small room. A rumpled bed, dirty clothes on the floor, a desk with a laptop on it and a small chest of drawers.

He looked at himself, thin arms and legs clothed in jeans, sneakers, and a blue hoodie. He scrambled up and on gangly legs, made his way to the mirror above the dresser. His visage came into view. Ruffled blonde hair, pale skin, large amethyst eyes, pink lips, a lithe body. Human, he was human. This was his punishment.

He touched himself, astonished at the soft velvety feel of himself. His fingers traced the red mark around his neck. This boy had committed suicide. That is why they had chosen this body, its soul was long gone.

He searched the room, looking for clues as to who this boy had been. He turned the laptop on, but it was password protected.

“Fuck.” He uttered then slapped a hand across his mouth. His voice was high, higher than he would think a boy this age would have. Perhaps there was damage done to his vocal chords. He closed his eyes and tried to access the boy’s memories. His soul was gone, but his brain still had residual awareness.

He typed “supermanyoosung981” into the laptop and it opened immediately. Yoosung, Yoosung Kim, that was his name, good to know. He opened files, scoured bookmarks, researched history and social media, until he had a descent idea of who this boy had been. He was currently in University studying to be a veterinarian. The death of his cousin had sent him on a downward spiral, which was too bad really, the boy was smart with so much to live for. His family was close, but not close enough. He had been depressed and desperate for so long, but no one had noticed. The thought filled him with anguish.

Something rang through the air and Yoosung fell off the chair, heart racing. It was going to take a long time to get used to these new feelings. He pinpointed the culprit and picked it up, flipping it open.

“Hh…hello?” he ventured.

“Yoosung! What the fuck! Where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for the past two days! You’ve missed work and if you don’t show up for your shift today, they’re going to fire you! I covered for you, but I can’t do it again!” the woman’s voice was high and shrill.

“Oh, uh, yeah, I’m…I’m…on my way?” he asked.

“Well I should fucking hope so!”

“Just, if you could, tell me, where?”

“Are you kidding me?” the woman’s voice rose even higher. “Get your ass here NOW!” there was a dial tone that echoed finality.

Yoosung blinked and flipped through the phone and found what his new brain told him was the name of his workplace. He riffled through the drawers and found a turtleneck to wear to hide the red gash around his throat.

He made his way to work, might as well start living, right? He was sure he would need money to live. The more he thought about it, the more he was looking forward to learning new things. Maybe this wasn’t so bad, except for the aches and pains, the emotional roller-coaster, and all things mortal. His mood suddenly flagged, and he entered the coffee shop with sagging shoulders.

“There you are!” a woman with dark brown hair grabbed his arm and yanked him around a large counter with a dairy and bakery case. “Where’s your apron? And your visor? Jesus Christ Yoosung!” she slipped behind a swinging door and was back in less than a minute shoving an apron over him and slamming a visor onto his head. “Ow!” he exclaimed.

“Stop being such a baby. You’re doing and extended shift and closing, got it?”

“Uh, sure.” He looked nervously at the cash register and the complicated looking coffee machines. He needn’t have worried, his fingers knew exactly what to do and before he knew it, he was flying through the hours. It was actually enjoyable, interacting with humans in this way. When the doorbell rang above the door he looked up and welcomed in the new customers, the words died in his throat. Saeran walked in behind his brother, who he had learned was named Saeyoung but for some reason, preferred to be called Seven.

“Saeran!” he blurted, ecstatic to see the man again.

“Do I know you?” Saeran asked, looking at him as if to a piece of dung on the bottom of his shoe.

Of course he didn’t recognize him.

“Oh, uh, no, I guess not…”

“You have a fan little brother, be nice.” Seven chided his brother, who only rolled his eyes and focused on the bakery items.

They placed their orders and Yoosung could feel the temperature rising several degrees, well, he could add embarrassment to his new emotional abilities. He couldn’t help but keep glancing at the men while they ate their confectionaries. He would look away when their eyes met. Every time it happened, Seven would laugh and tease Saeran, who looked surlier and surlier. He tried to stop, but he couldn’t seem to.

The rest of the evening went by too slowly, the excitement having worn off and his feeling’s having been hurt. How did humans survive? This was awful!

He was relieved when it was time to close and he locked the shop up. It was almost midnight according to the numbers on his phone.

“How do you know me?” came a voice from the alley next to the shop. Yoosung was startled and he jumped, his foot hit the curb and he lost his balance. He flailed his arms but then was caught by a pair of strong arms, red hair flashing across his eyesight. He was righted, and the hands left his body.

“You…you scared me.” He huffed.

“How?”

“Because I didn’t see you there!”

Saeran rolled his eyes and shook his head, “How do you know me?” he reiterated, slowly, as if he was talking to an imbecile. Yoosung felt his face grow hot again, was this body just overly sensitive to temperature?

“Oh, right. You wouldn’t recognize me in this body.”

“This body?”

“I…I was the one who saved you.”

“My guide?” Saeran clarified.

“Yes.”

“I knew it, I knew there was something familiar about you! But, how?” he looked at Yoosung up and down.

“What I did was forbidden. I broke the rules, and I had to pay the price.”

“So they made you human?”

“Yes.”

“Fully grown?” Saeran was perplexed.

“This human killed himself, his soul no longer inhabits it, that’s how they were able to do it.”

“Oh, that’s…sad…”

“It is, especially since there was so much potential in him.”

“Do you know why?”

“He lost someone, someone very close, and no one saw how lost and adrift he’d become. He tried to ask for help, but no one heard him.”

“I’m so sorry.” Saeran whispered, his eyes welling with tears.

“As am I. It…has been difficult navigating this world. I thought I knew everything about it because I’ve been observing it since it began, but…” he shrugged.

“I suppose it is a completely different thing to observe it than to live in it.” Saeran grinned.

“So it seems.” Yoosung smiled self-deprecatingly.

“I tell you what, you keep guiding me, and I’ll help you navigate.”

“That sounds wonderful!” Yoosung beamed, his insides roiling chaotically. His smile slipped, and he looked nauseous.

“What’s wrong?” Saeran asked worried.

“I don’t know. My insides…feel…funny.”

“Funny how?”

Yoosung shrugged, “Like, there’s something rolling around in there, and, why is it always getting so hot?” he looked pleadingly at Saeran who only chuckled.

“Let me guess,” he tilted Yoosung chin up with his forefinger and thumb, “does it get worse the closer I am?” he stood so close Yoosung could smell the gum he’d been chewing still on his breath.

“Yes…” he admitted, his palms were now sweaty, and his heart pounded so loud it muffled all sound.

“Interesting, we’ll have to explore that.” Saeran grinned and stepped away from him. Yoosung was suddenly cold and shivering. Interesting indeed.

#My posts #Yooran #Yoosung #Saeran #Yooran Halloween Week #Yooran fanfic #ghosts #death #dark theme #suicide #suicidal thoughts #mysme #mystic messenger #mysme fanfic

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i-ha-te-u · 6 years

Text

bechloe road trip / part I

a/n: this is unedited and probably shitty as hell but enjoy it anyway! will this have more chapters or end up as a one-shot bc i’m bored? we will never know.

the first day.

They had been driving for hours, Chloe’s eyes fixated on a book as her head bopped to songs sounding through her earbuds while Beca’s eyes were fixated on the road car set in cruise control so she was able to relax a bit into the driver’s seat.

It had taken Chloe months to fully convince Beca to go on a road trip with her. At her first attempt, the brunette had just laughed at her, square in the face. “There is no way I will drive around this hell-hole of a country for longer than a maximum of two hours.” Beca had said, glaring at the pouting redhead before bringing her attention back to her phone.

Her second attempt, or rather attempts, had been as unsuccessful as the first. Chloe decided that she would ask Beca to join her on her summer trip every single day. She did it at the most random places and the most inappropriate times. When Beca was 1 second away from falling asleep she would receive a text from Chloe that asked her whether she was tagging along or not. Right before their Worlds performance, Chloe had whispered an invite to the road trip into the brunette’s ear, and she had shoved Chloe away from her firmly as she released a loud sigh. Sometimes when Beca was carelessly sitting on the couch, the redhead had tried seducing her into going, using physical contact.

The last attempt was successful though, and it took quite some effort. It wasn’t that Beca was opposed to the idea of the two Bellas spending time together- because that was one of the bright sides of the entire thing to Beca. The main reason she did not look forward to the whole thing was that it wasn’t a planned out idea. Nothing ever went smoothly when it came to the Bellas. Why would this be different? How much money would the entire thing cost? How were they going to charge their phones if they had to spends their nights in tents somewhere in a forest? How long were they going?

So, Chloe had planned out the entire trip to perfection. She had thought of every little thing there was to think of. There were about 15 charged power banks packed in their suitcases, along with plenty of food and drinks if they were to desert somewhere without gas or phone signal. The redhead had spent (too much) time reading books on how to make fires, what to do in case of emergencies and obviously how to get the most out of your road trip. On top of working out every single detail, she had invited the other Bellas along with them. Separate cars, of course. Beca would’ve gone crazy having to spend longer than 2 hours crammed in a small space with any Bella, except for Chloe. Chloe was okay. More than okay. When she had pitched the entire thing to Beca, the brunette hadn’t been able to resist the sparkle in Chloe’s blue eyes. She couldn’t say no to all the work she had put into this, it’d be a real dick-move.

There were 3 cars all headed in the same direction, following Beca’s lead. Beca and Chloe were seated in the first car, more like a van, that was packed with most of their luggage. The trunk and backseats were filled to the brim, so that the other Bellas could fit in the other two cars. The second vehicle was home to Stacie, Lily, Amy and Flo. The third car was occupied by Aubrey, Emily, Cynthia-Rose, Jessica and Ashley. Stacie and Aubrey were driving because they were the somehow serious ones of them all.

Beca indeed would’ve gone absolutely nuts if she were to be in the other two cars. Stacie was blasting Backstreet Boys, loud enough for pretty much everyone on the highway to hear. Aubrey’s car was filled with chatter and squeals of Aubrey catching up with her old friends and Emily being excited about- basically anything.

Beca’s car was filled with peace, soft music sounding through the vehicle whilst Chloe was leaning back into the passenger’s seat, feet resting on the headboard. Most of the time the redhead was busy reading her book, and occasionally she would look around at the view or stare into the landscapes they were passing by.

“So, ready to tell me where we’re headed to?” Beca was allowed to know every detail, except for the places they were going to. Obviously, she could know the addresses but she was not allowed to look up the spots they were going to. Chloe had done hours of research to find perfect places to settle. Beca being the good friend she is didn’t want to ruin Chloe’s surprise and had resisted her curiosity of googling everything beforehand.

“It’s not as thrilling as you’re expecting it to be, I’m afraid,” Chloe said, releasing an earbud from her ear but not removing her eyes from the book in front of her. “Trust me, my hopes for this trip aren’t extremely high to begin with.” Chloe chuckled and grabbed the bookmark she kept in between the pages, closed the book around it and put it on the ground.

“We’re staying in a motel for the first night.” The total cliché hadn’t really affected Chloe but Beca raised her eyebrows and shifted her eyes towards the redhead. “Really?” “Yup.” Chloe was still not looking at the brunette. “Why a motel? There’s a motel like five minutes from our apartment.”

Chloe sighed as a smile started to form on her lips. She had spent days trying to find a motel that fit the whole road trip aesthetic. There had to be a neon sign that said Motel. There had to be a dinner like Pops in Riverdale or the one in Lady Gaga’s Telephone music video but without the intoxicating of all the guests. It shouldn’t be abandoned but not too touristy as well.

“Because it’s hot.” Chloe couldn’t help the cheeky smile that rested on her face as she finally looked at Beca. The brunette raised an eyebrow at the comment and then rolled her eyes. “Of course you think motels are hot. Do I want to know why you find them- hot?” She mumbled, eyes back on the road.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a movie scene where they hook up in a motel,” Chloe said, part of her believing that Beca had in fact never seen such a scene. “You want to hook up in the motel?” Her voice was on the edge of a chuckle but she was able to keep it in. “Not this time, unless you really want me to. Isn’t that basically what motels are for though?” Beca shrugged and they think about it for a split-second. “Not my point.”

Chloe tried explaining Beca why motels were such a sexy place to go to on their road trip and the brunette couldn’t keep the grin off her face the entire time. “Also I read online that choosing motels over hotels is a nice way to get a hold of the locals. Y'know, go to the sketchy dinner instead of the commercial restaurants. We can get to know the places we’re visiting.”

“And all the others know your motive behind going to a motel as well?” Beca saw Chloe nod in the corner of her eyes. “And they understand?” Beca almost yelled, not believing all Bellas were as crazy as the redhead next to her. “I’m surprised you don’t find it hot.” Chloe folded her arms in front of her, looking out of the window.

Aubrey was a huge fan of the motel idea. So was Amy and they both helped her on her hunt to find the one. They judged her choices of motels carefully and had both agreed a hundred percent on the one they were going to. “I guess you need to convince me a little more,” Beca mumbled, making Chloe grin but deciding not to dig into the subject any further. There was time for that later.

After a couple more hours of driving with occasional performances to songs in Beca’s playlist and conversations about light subjects, the Bellas arrived at their destination. They all spent a good five minutes stretching their backs and other body parts, them being sore from sitting in the car all day. It was about 6 PM and the car ride had worn down most of the Bellas already. “You are definitely driving tomorrow,” Beca said to Chloe as she put her hands on her back. “Sure, grandma.”

The Bellas made their way to the entrance of the motel, where they got the keys to their rooms. They paired up groups of two, one of three. Beca and Chloe were naturally a duo and when they opened the door to their room, they found what Beca had been fearing. “Double beds, seems like we’ll be cuddling tonight.” Chloe grinned as she moved swiftly past the brunette.

She had closed her eyes in frustration. She didn’t share beds with Chloe often and whenever they had shared beds, Beca could never turn down any invitation of physical contact between the two. It stripped her down from her badass vibe completely, and up until now, only Chloe was allowed to see that side of her. Sometimes.

“Fun.” She said dryly, rolling her suitcase into the room. “Don’t sound too excited.” Chloe was in the bathroom, checking out the shower she was definitely planning on hitting after they had unpacked their essentials. Beca looked around the room. It was relatively luxe for a motel, but not overly done. It was light and pretty spacious. The bathroom was nice, nothing gross.

“So? Hot right.” Chloe said, walking back into the bedroom. Beca could hear the smirk on her face and it made her grin as well. “Yeah, it has me all riled up,” Beca said, sarcasm dripping off the comment as she lifted her suitcase on the bed. She zipped it open and unpacked her toiletries and pajamas, laying them out on the bed.

“I’m gonna hit the shower real quick before we go get some food,” Chloe stated after she had unpacked her towel from her suitcase. “Care to join me?” The redhead joked flirtatiously, making the brunette snort quietly. “Never again Beale.” She said, unfazed by her invitation. “Bummer.” The door closed and the brunette looked up, a shit-eating grin settled on her lips.

It was well-known that Beca and Chloe were quite flirty around each other, most of it coming from Chloe’s side. Occasionally Beca would join her banter but most of the time she’d turn red and commanded Chloe to stop before she was going to punch her. It also wasn’t a secret that Beca found the redhead attractive. She often complimented her but did it sneakily. “You’re lucky you’re that pretty.” or “Get your cute butt over here.”

Flirting had always been something Chloe enjoyed doing. It joyed her even more when the receiving end turned mushy and flustered over her flirtatious remarks. Beca was like this most of the time and oh, how she loved it. And up until now, Beca had never confessed to feeling uncomfortable or out of place by Chloe’s flirting. In fact, when the redhead had asked about that Beca had shrugged. “I would’ve absolutely told you by now if it made me uncomfortable.”

As promised, they visited the dinner that was across from the motel and it was everything it was expected to be. The local drunks enjoying a beer as they chatted with the waiters, the meals were pretty basic as were the milkshakes, but it was doable for the Bellas. They had spent the entire night chatting. Lack of space made them pair up in groups of 3 and 4, each of them sitting at different booths.

CR and Lily threw fries towards Fat Amy’s direction, who caught each one in her mouth and she found that very incredible of herself. Emily, Flo, Jessica and Ashley enjoyed their meals as they chatted calmly. Chloe and Aubrey sat next to each other, Beca and Stacie opposite from them.

“Please explain to me why this whole thing is considered hot because I’m not convinced yet.” Beca didn’t even try to make it sound like a question. She pretty much demanded an explanation, receiving a grin from the redhead in front of her. “Well,” Stacie started “First of all, a motel is mysterious. You’ll probably never ever stay in the same motel twice, so it always feels like you’re leaving your fingerprints on there. Second of all, neon is always sexy.” She gestured towards the large neon sign that spelled out M O T E L. “However, it would’ve been better if one of the letters would occasionally jitter but it’s fine.” Chloe chuckled as she bit down on the straw in her milkshake, enjoying the way Stacie explained the whole thing. “Last of all, how incredibly adorable is it to sit in this dinner, that would’ve been pretty much empty if we weren’t here, and eat unhealthy food while sharing milkshakes with your friends?”

Chloe looked at Beca with her ‘I told you so’- look and folded her arms in front of her, which made Beca squint her eyes at her before allowing a smile on her lips. “Convinced?” The redhead asked, raising an eyebrow at her. “Pretty much.” “Great.” Chloe wore a proud smile before turning her attention back to the other two girls at the table.

Around 9 PM the Bellas decided to head back to the motel, most of them being exhausted by the car ride. Everyone besides Chloe, who had talked Beca into staying back at the dinner with her for a little longer.

“I want to do two more things before heading back. You’re probably going to hate them but that doesn’t matter because you love me, so you’re going to agree to do them.” Beca chuckled. “Well, it sounds like I don’t really have a say in this whole thing, so- whatever. What do you want to do?”

Chloe took Beca’s straw from her milkshake and it made the brunette frown, not really understanding what she was doing until she put the straw in her own milkshake and shoved it in the middle of the table. “If you say anything remotely close to this being a gross cliché I will dump this shake onto your head.” The redhead mumbled, then smiling at Beca sweetly. “You’re so weird.” Chloe took her straw between her lips and waited for Beca to do the same. She stubbornly kept her arms folded over her chest but eventually gave in to the baby-blue eyes in front of her and too wrapped her lips around the straw.

She was forced to look at the face in front of her, and normally she wouldn’t have been able to keep a straight face, but Chloe wasn’t looking at her funnily. Instead, her head was resting on her hand and her eyes radiated an ease that seemed to alter the entire dinner into a peaceful haven. Sounds of dishes rattling or drunk laughing didn’t catch Beca’s ears and her attention was fully on the face in front of her. She felt calm all of a sudden, intensely enjoying Chloe’s presence a lot at that moment.

The sound of slurping made the brunette snap out of her gaze, looking down at the empty glass. “Great. That was- great.” Beca leaned back and returned to sitting with her arms folded across her chest. “Don’t tell me that wasn’t nice,” Chloe said, cocking an eyebrow at her grumpy friend. “It was okay.” She didn’t want to fully admit how nice the cliché had been, but Chloe knew she had in fact, found it a little nice. But sadly, she had to accept that the brunette was never gonna be vocal about that.

“Let’s head out,” Chloe said, getting out of the seats. One of the other Bellas had already paid for their meals and with a quick goodbye to the owner of the dinner, the two girls left their spot. “Didn’t you want to do two things?” The brunette asked, confused as to why they were heading back to the motel.

“We’re not done yet,” Chloe said, wiggling her eyebrows as she walked ahead of Beca, making the brunette follow her. They made their way to the gas station that was connected to the motel. “We,” Chloe started, turning around to face Beca, “are getting cheap booze at the gas station and drinking it while we sit and watch the stars.”

She pulled the brunette into the little store with her, not allowing her to protest against the idea. They greeted the woman sitting behind the cash desk as they headed towards the coolers that kept the drinks cold. Chloe grabbed two beers and looked over at Beca. “Please?” She asked, holding each beer to the side of her face as she pouted.

Beca rolled her eyes and chuckled. “Whatever Chlo.” She mumbled before following the excited redhead towards the cashier. They paid for the drinks and headed outside. They made their way to Beca’s car and leaned against the front of the truck. “Cheers.” Chloe clinked their bottles together and smiled before taking a sip.

“Is this romantic to you?” Beca asked, using sarcasm as a camouflage for her genuine curiosity about whether or not Chloe Beale thought chliché’s were romantic. “Obviously.” Their eyes were up to the sky, wandering around the millions of stars above them. Beca swiftly looked over at the redhead, whose eyes were big and sparkly, trying to gaze over every fleck of light above them. Then Chloe turned her head towards Beca and smiled.

“You?” Beca thought about the question for a bit. This had in fact been one of the most thought out dates, she had been on. Not that they were necessarily on a date, but they did do date-like things. Most of the ones Beca had been on were movies or fancy restaurants. And for a small moment, Beca understood why Chloe preferred these types of nights over boring films and expensive food. Those were the real clichés.

“A little,” Beca answered softly, after a while of thinking passed them. It made a smile grow on Chloe’s lips and she stepped closer to Beca to lean her head on the brunette’s shoulder. “Don’t get too excited,” Beca mumbled, and she heard a soft giggle from the redhead which made her heart melt.

And Beca was a hundred percent sure that Chloe was her best friend, but in moments like this she felt a wave of butterflies course through her stomach and a heavy feeling loathed her chest and head. She allowed letting the feelings course through her blood and enjoyed watching the stars with the redhead nuzzled against her shoulder. And she successfully ignored the fact that when Chloe did things like this, Beca fell in love with her little by little. For now, they enjoyed the stars above them and their cheap beers.

#bechloe #bechloe fanfic #roadtrip #road trip #au #road trip au #one-shot #one shot #beca mitchell #chloe beale #beca x chloe #beca #chloe #pitch perfect #pp3

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