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shina913 · 2 years

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Scions, Ch.5 | Kim Line + JHS

Scions, 5

sci·on | \ ˈsī-ən \ Definition: (1) a descendant (2) a shoot or twig, especially one cut for grafting or planting

✼Scions Masterlist✼

Pairing: JHS x Fem!Reader; Fem!Reader Sister + Kim Brothers

Rating: M (🔞)

Genre: Siblings!AU; Marriage!AU; FWB!AU; exes to ?; Mom!Reader; Brother’s Best Friend; angst; smut; fluff

Warnings: ANGST!!!; lots of sentimentality; character has terminal illness; POV switches; discussion of said terminal illness; mentions of hospice care; bickering; crying; parenting frustrations; vulnerable confessions; cussing; pining; fluffy interactions with kids; marriage troubles; ANGST (yep, as if the first mention of it wasn’t enough of a warning)

Word count: 11,570 words

Summary: Four grown siblings return to their childhood hometown after their father is declared to be terminal. They are forced to live under the same roof for days, along with their overbearing mother, to say their final goodbyes. It starts off nostalgic until some unresolved family issues along with an assortment of spouses, exes, and might-have-beens make things even more interesting.

A/N: I'm happy to be back writing again! I had to mourn Coquet a bit and then sit in my feelings about getting back into this angsty mindset. I couldn't avoid adding traces of my parenting experiences here, as my lovely friend, @deepseavibez pointed out. I think most (if not all) writers put a little bit of themselves into their work especially with themes that hit close to home.

There is a very brief hint of dark humor as well. A character is dying and my intention is not to make light of the situation. It's just the way the characters are since there's not really much that they can do to change their situation. It’s a weird coping mechanism.

From this point until the next couple of updates, there will be overt discussions of the concept of death and mortality, in general. Personally, I learned of the concept of death, grief, and mourning at an early age. It's part of my culture and upbringing but I understand if this is a sensitive topic for some. I will try to be explicit with the warnings as best as I can.

A/N2: There are some references to Disney Pixar’s movie, “Up.” Damn you, Paradise Falls @internetjunkdrawer 😖 Also, the song that plays here (I linked it in the scene) is one that Lady Gaga did a version of at the Grammys—which Taehyung was there for, IRL. I thought it would be a nice inclusion 💜

You awoke to the sound of rapid clicking noises. A sound familiar to you–especially when you’re rage-typing an email that you’re about to send out to a client.

You rolled over to see Sam, sitting at your old desk, nose buried deep in his laptop’s screen.

He hears you stirring and turns around.

“Hey,” he says briefly before he turns back to his screen.

“How long have you been up?” you croak out, still laying on your pillow.

He looks at the clock at the top right corner of his screen. “Uh…since 5AM?”

You groan inwardly. “Didn’t you get in really late last night?”

“I know but my body clock’s been off…you know, after traveling on and off for six weeks.”

And didn’t you know it.

“Have you checked on the kids?” You ask while you pick up your cell from the nightstand to check for messages. There were none.

“This morning? Not yet. As soon as I woke up, I had about 12 emails and kind of got sucked in,” he shrugs.

The night before, you slept with the kids in your childhood bedroom. But since you were expecting Sam’s arrival last night, you moved the kids into Namjoon’s bedroom across the hall.

He protested at first, asking your mom why he had to give up his room when Jin and Yoojung lived fairly close to the neighborhood, but he eventually dropped the issue when she insisted that your dad wanted all of his children under one roof in his last moments.

You rolled over and sat up, deciding to get breakfast ready for the children when you stopped and saw a moving figure outside your bedroom window.

You saw Hobi walking out of his garage to retrieve his garbage bins from the curb.

After all these years, garbage pickup day has remained the same…among other things.

You stared at him for a few seconds, recalling the few hours that you spent with him last night. As if sensing that he was being watched, he looks up–directly at your bedroom window. Your curtains were drawn and he could see right into it. You held your hand up as if giving him a small wave. He mirrors your gesture before slowly walking back into his house.

******

Taehyung stirs in his dad’s wingback chair. He couldn’t sleep in his room last night. After tossing and turning for almost two hours, he crept into his dad’s room, woke his mom up from the cot that she laid in and told her that he can stay and keep watch.

“Taehyungie.”

He opens his eyes, thinking that he was still in a dream.

Once his vision comes into focus, he sees his dad’s head turned in his direction.

“D-dad? You’re up?”

“W-water…p-please,” he wheezes.

Taehyung jumps up and nearly trips over the ottoman while he rushes to grab a small plastic pitcher with the straw. He brings it closer to his dad’s lips to take a sip.

Panic gripped him, making him feel like a little boy again, not knowing what to do, but willing to help in any way possible to make it better. “Are you okay, dad? Are you in pain? Should I ask mom to call the nurse?” It was still slightly dark out, not even 6 in the morning–daylight barely kissing the horizon but the hospice service provider assured the family that they were available at all hours of the day.

His dad shook his head slowly.

Taehyung stares at him–as if he was hallucinating. “Dad…you’re still here…”

“Well, I’m not dead yet, addeul,” he laughs.

The comment unnerved Taehyung but it oddly still made him smile. Leave it to his dad to make dark jokes to diffuse an uncomfortable situation.

“It’s good to see you, Taehyungie.”

He gives him a boxy grin. “We’re all here, dad. Do you want me to do anything for you? Do you want me to wake mom? The hyungs and noona?”

His dad shook his head silently. “Not yet. But I want you to do something for me–”

“Anything, dad.” Taehyung says, anticipating his request.

“Can you please play me some Ella Fitzgerald first?” Since his mom had retired, they had fallen into this routine of waking up to music filling the house. They were enjoying being empty nesters, especially after Taehyung left for the city nearly three years ago.

Once in a while, when Taehyung got up early enough after spending a weekend at home, he would see his parents dancing in the kitchen while they waited for their morning coffee to brew.

Taehyung smiles warmly. “Of course. Let me get my bluetooth speaker.”

Before Taehyung pulls away to retrieve his speaker from his room, he picks up his dad’s hand, gently lifting it to his cheek, savoring the warmth.

Once the first few notes of ‘Do I Love You’ plays, it doesn't take long before his mom walks into the room with a big smile. Taehyung takes his mom by surprise by leading her into a dance while his dad looks on lovingly.

******

Later that morning, Namjoon is finally awakened by loud thumps and muffled conversations coming from above him. Taehyung attempted to rouse him so he could come upstairs to see their dad but he was pretty much rendered comatose after downing half a bottle of Nyquil from his niece and nephew’s medicine pouch to knock himself out.

He feels around the nightstand for his watch. It was a makeshift nightstand–one that he assembled using an old dining chair and a desk lamp that he found in the basement–which was where your mom put him since all of the bedrooms in the house were taken on account of Sam’s arrival.

He groans. It was just a little past 8:15. Great. As if he didn’t just fall asleep less than three hours ago. He stretches the crick in his neck–this pull-out couch was not the most comfortable but at least he had the whole basement to himself. Alone. With his thoughts.

After a quick shower, he makes his way up the creaky steps and down the hall to the dining room, where everyone else was already seated and in the middle of a lively conversation.

“Well, good morning to you, sleepyhead!” Your mom beams at him from the head of the table. Her hair was all done up with a full face of makeup as if she were headed to a red carpet premiere. “Dad’s awake this morning and I’m sure he’d love for you to read to him later.”

Namjoon slowed his steps. His brain was still a bit hazy, caused by traces of the cold medicine in his system. But when it finally catches up, he smiles softly, looking forward to spending some time with his dad.

“C’mon, darling, we saved you a spot,” she said brightly, gesturing to the right side of the table while the whole table continued their banter.

******

Namjoon walks over to take the open seat next to you. Jin, who sat directly across from him, hands over the plate of bacon, followed by a plate of eggs, offered by Taehyung, who sat to his right.

You poured him a glass of orange juice before you continued your story.

“Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah! So, I was around 10 and babysitting Tae—and uh, I realized that I had just gotten my period for the first time—which, I had no idea that was what it was then. And what do you know, dad walks into the room and sees blood on my clothes and flies into a panic.”

“Wait, so where was your mom in all this?” Yoojung remarks even though she was seated immediately to your mom’s left side.

Your mom smiled warmly. “I was in a remote location for ‘Valley of the Beast’ and we were filming some underwater scenes so they couldn’t really reach me,” she explains.

“Oh…gosh, I remember now. I remember when I biked past those news vans when the movie came out. It was pretty exciting,” she remarked.

“Right,” you continued. “So dad grabs me and Tae—throws us in the backseat of the car and he’s zooming past stop signs to get me to the hospital,” you begin to laugh.

“You want some more syrup for your waffles, love?” Jin asks her quietly.

She hesitates. “I really shouldn’t. The doctor says that too much sugar might not be good,” she replies softly.

He nods, putting the syrup dispenser back on the table, then leaning over to kiss her hair. She looks at him and smiles.

You see their sweet exchange out of the corner of your eye, but you continue your story without missing a beat. “So then he gets pulled over by Officer Cheong! And he goes, ‘Mr. Kim, do you know how fast you were going?’ And then dad practically yells at him like, ‘You don’t understand! My daughter is hemorrhaging! I need to get her to the emergency room!’ So Officer Cheong takes a look at me and Taehyungie in the backseat and checks to make sure that we were okay…but dad wouldn’t stop freaking out.”

Taehyung laughs. “That was a very exciting afternoon,” he says between spoonfuls of eggs.

Everyone around the table laughs because your dad can be so calm and collected especially during a busy night at the restaurant. And yet, at the faintest sight of blood or any medical emergency, all logic goes out the door.

Thankfully, Officer Cheong has three daughters and after concluding that you were not in any physical distress, he explains the situation to your dad and offers to provide a police escort to the nearest pharmacy to help him buy sanitary pads. The lady at the checkout counter was nice enough to tell you what to do.

Jin jumps in and connects the topic about a previous experience when he broke his fingers during a baseball game and his dad nearly fainted while he watched the doctor reset his digits in the emergency room.

Namjoon’s phone buzzes. He takes it out of his pocket to see ‘Victoria’ on the caller ID. He promptly rejects it.

“It’s your wife, why don’t you answer it?” You mumble to him.

“Why don’t you share another story about your cycle, YN?” He counters.

“What about you, Namjoon-ah?” Your mom says.

“Hm?”

“What’s your favorite memory of dad?”

“Uh…can we just circle back? Maybe Tae can go next,” Namjoon says as he takes a bite of his bacon.

“I already went. Mine was pretty epic,” Taehyung replies. Namjoon chuckles nervously. “How can I possibly follow YN’s story?”

“C’mon, Namjoon. Don’t you have any good memories of him?” Jin asks.

He tries to wave everyone off. “Sorry, guys. My mind’s just blanking out this morning. Didn’t sleep much last night.”

“You know, Joon, if you have any unresolved issues with your dad, now’s the time to get it all out,” your mom urges.

“Mom, why would you automatically assume that I have issues with dad? Maybe I just really can’t remember anything at the moment,” Namjoon answers with a slight hint of irritation.

Before she could argue, the doorbell rings and she excuses herself to answer it.

“Oooh! Wait, I’ve got another,” Taehyung volunteers excitedly. “So—I’m in the garage, searching for my beyblades in dad’s toolbox,” he trails off.

That took a load off Namjoon’s shoulders.

The conversation continues for a few more minutes until a chirping sound goes off.

Yoojung is slightly startled before looking at her phone to silence it. She clears her throat then gives her husband a look. “Uh, Jin?” She whispers, lightly tapping on his leg.

He sighs and slouches his shoulders slightly. “Now? Really?”

“Can’t do it by myself,” she mutters under her breath before she excuses herself and gets up from the table. After she puts her dish in the sink she heads down to the hallway and up the stairs to their bedroom.

“What’s up?” Namjoon asks.

Jin gets up from his seat begrudgingly and takes his own dish to the sink. “I have to have sex,” he announces blandly.

Taehyung snorts. “Jin-hyung, sex is supposed to be fun!”

“Yeah, well, not when it’s on a schedule.” He says before he trudged down the hallway and upstairs to his waiting wife.

“Well, whatever you do, keep it down so you don’t wake dad up,” Namjoon jokes.

“Very funny, Namjoon-ah,” Jin yells sarcastically from the landing.

The dining room windows have a full view of the driveway across the street.

Namjoon glances at you to find you watching the neighbor walk out of the front door towards his car.

“Enjoying the view?” He whispers in your ear.

“Shut up,” you said, turning your attention back to your plate of pancakes.

“We should ask him if he wants to stop by here and grab a bite before heading to work,” he teases.

“I’m sure Hobi can afford to get his own breakfast anywhere,” you snarked.

“I remember when I used to see him sneak out of your room before breakfast,” Namjoon says under his breath before snickering.

His body jerks, nearly knocking the table over when you pinch him on this thigh. Taehyung gives you both a quizzical look until your mom’s voice bellows down the hallway.

“Taehyung! Look who’s here,” your mom says as she walks into the dining room with company.

“Eunhae?” Taehyung looks like he’s just seen a ghost. She was the last person he expected to show up at your childhood home.

“She introduced herself and said she was your friend. I was just having a lovely conversation with her. She said she’d heard about dad and wanted to pay her respects. Isn’t that sweet?”

You cleared your throat, prompting your younger brother to introduce his ‘friend’ to everyone.

“Uh—Namjoon-hyung, this is Eunhae. She’s a good friend from the city.” He says nervously.

“Good to see you again, Eunhae,” you say to her. Namjoon shoots you a curious look, wondering when and how you met Taehyung’s ‘friend.’

She smiles and bows politely to everyone in the room. “Jin-hyung is uhm, in the middle of something but, I can introduce you later,” he utters before giving you an uncomfortable look.

You already knew about Eunhae though you were equally surprised to see that she actually came out to your hometown, given your past conversations with Taehyung when he said that she wanted to keep personal stuff ‘separate.’

After getting over the initial shock of his fuck-buddy unceremoniously showing up at his childhood home’s doorstep, instinct kicks in and Taehyung begins to dote on her, offering her breakfast as she takes the empty seat next to him, previously occupied by Jin.

Namjoon doesn’t suspect a thing and is distracted by rejecting yet another call from Victoria.

Just then, the kids run in from the backyard, where Sam took them to play after taking a break from his conference calls.

“Eunhae-unnie!” Jooni’s eyes light up as she sees her one-time babysitter, running up to her to say hello.

“Why does Jooni know her?” Namjoon mumbles to you out of the corner of his mouth.

You clear your throat uncomfortably. “She…watched the kids for me once.”

“Huh…interesting. You’re going to have to tell me how that came about.”

******

“So much for no labels, huh?” You mumble to Taehyung while you do the dishes. He was coming through the kitchen to get Eunhae something to drink while she and your mom played with your kids in the living room.

“There are no labels to speak of,” Taehyung says glumly.

After putting the last dish away, you wiped your hands on a dish towel and eyed him for a minute. “What’s with you? Last time I saw you guys, you were practically like a married couple.”

“Noona…”

You heard the slight hint of exasperation in his voice. It was the same tone he took after Namjoon and Jin had teased him to no end. You raised your hands up, dropping the subject. “Alright, alright,” you say gently, de-escalating his irritation.

After Yoojung and Jin got their ‘business’ done, Taehyung introduced Eunhae to them. Yoojung made some polite smalltalk whereas Jin didn’t have time to ask questions. He had to rush out to the restaurant as there was a pending catering order that needed to be delivered on-site before noon. Yoojung also leaves for the store to buy some produce and other ingredients to restock the pantry.

Taehyung briefly introduces Eunhae to Sam, who pulls his phone away from his ear for a few seconds to shake her hand before returning to his phone call, which he then takes back upstairs.

You hear the deep sound of a throat clearing. “So…is she staying here or did she book a room in town?” You both look up to see Namjoon walking through.

“Uh…she’s got a room in town,” Taehyung replies.

He hummed. “How come I’ve never heard of this friend of yours?” Namjoon wondered out loud.

You quietly glanced at Namjoon and then back at Taehyung.

“I didn’t know that you needed a list of my friends,” he said with a hint of hostility.

His big brother smiled at him. “Okay, Taehyungie. Calm down. I’m…only curious, that’s all,” Namjoon says gently.

“Is Victoria-noona coming soon?” Taehyung asks, out of a desperate need for subject change.

Namjoon shifts his weight at the mention of her name. Once again, you quietly glanced at Taehyung then back at Namjoon.

“No, she, uh…” He scrambled for an excuse. “...She just had surgery,” he says vaguely.

Your eyes widen at Namjoon’s lie. “Oh no. Is she alright? What did she have surgery on?” Taehyung’s expression switches to a look of concern.

Your eyebrows lifted. “Yes, Namjoon–what procedure was that for?” You cock your head to the side, your mischievous undertone riling him up from within.

He gives you a quick, subtle but antagonistic glare before he turns to answer Taehyung. “Uhhh…it was–her back. She had back surgery. To uh…treat a bulging disc,” he stuttered.

“Oh shit. That sounds serious, hyung,” Taehyung gasps softly. He kept fairly close relationships with his sisters- and brother-in-law…that was just how he was. He was generally very accepting of people.

You leaned against the sink, hands gripping the edge of the counter and crossing your ankles casually. “Does she spend a lot of time on her back?” Taehyung’s neck slowly turned in your direction, face twisted in confusion at your odd query.

Namjoon shoots you another threatening look while you stifle a snort. “I mean–does she do repetitive activities where she strains it?”

You watched his jaw tick. “I’m not sure,” he all but growls. “Anyway, the doctor required her to stay home so she can recover, which is why she can’t make the trip out here.” He tries his best not to say all that through gritted teeth as he turns his attention back to Taehyung.

“Well–I hope she’s recovering well, hyung. Please let her know that I’m thinking of her,” he says quietly.

“I’ll be sure that she gets the message,” Namjoon says tightly.

“Taehyungie!” Your mom walks into the kitchen with Eunhae. “Eunhae says she’s staying in town. I was offering the couch in the den but–”

“Oh, Ms. Young, you really don’t have to–”

“Sweetheart, all of my children’s friends call me ‘eomeonim’,” she smiled warmly at her.

You watched Taehyung’s mouth fall slightly open, surprised at how welcoming your mom was to this ‘friend’ that she just met. His hand flies to his nape, rubbing it nervously. It took Jungkook a couple of visits for her to give him permission to call her the honorific.

“I leave Young Lina in front of the camera. But when I’m home, I am every bit Mrs. Kim.”

Eunhae smiled back at her. “Uhm, t-thank you for the offer…eomeonim. But I have a room at the town hotel. I just wanted to pay my respects to your husband.”

“Thank you, Eunhae.” Then your mom turns her attention to Taehyung. “Taehyungie, darling, why don’t you show Eunhae the backroads leading up to the hotel, huh?”

“Y-yeah,” Taehyung says absentmindedly. “O-okay. I’ll uhm…go grab my keys.” He stammered while he shuffled towards the front door’s console, where everyone’s keys were.

Eunhae bows politely to you and Namjoon, to which you both bow and smile politely in return. Then, your mom walks her back to the living room, where the kids pull her back in for one last puzzle game before she leaves.

Once they were out of earshot, Namjoon turned to scowl at you. “Dude. What. The. Fuck…are you trying to do? Are you deliberately trying to torture me?” He said through gritted teeth.

You shrugged, feigning innocence. “A bulging disc, huh? That’s what you’re going with?”

“What? One of my producing partners kept talking about his back issues! It was stuck in my head so it was the only thing I could pull out of my ass,” he whispers harshly.

Your brows rose at him. “You know that bulging discs are only common in men?”

“What? There must be some tiny percentage of women who experience it?”

You snort. “Oh, sure. If Vee was secretly a 40-year-old man,” you contended.

Namjoon groans softly. “Look…just…please? Can you work with me here for just a bit longer? I was on the phone with my lawyer earlier and she just got served with the papers last night. I think that’s why she’s been calling me nonstop.”

You suck in a long, deep breath. “Joon…you don’t have to deal with this alone, you know?”

“Right. Because I have you.” He flashed his dimple at you. When you were younger, it usually meant that he fucked up and he wanted you to cover for him.

You roll your eyes, but before you could argue, you hear the sound of your kids pleading with Eunhae to come back tomorrow for playtime–to which she sweetly agreed to. You are prompted to walk to the foyer to wrangle them, but the kids were too excited to have another new playmate.

You temporarily put a pin on your conversation with your older brother while you watch Taehyung and Eunhae leave for the hotel. Distantly, you hear Namjoon’s phone going off in his pocket again.

******

“What are you reading these days, Namjoon-ah?”

Namjoon picked up his reading habits from his dad, often recommending new books to him. When he enters the room after breakfast, he notices a few of the new books that he had ordered for him–piled neatly in a corner, only a few of them looking like they had been read.

He picks up his dad’s copy of I Want To Write but I Don't Want to Write and reads a couple of passages to him, until he hears his dad groan.

“Dad, are you okay? Do you need me to get mom?”

“No, no–sit. I just need a minute.” After catching his breath, he turns his attention back to Namjoon. “How’s that new album coming?”

Namjoon quietly bristles. The night before, while his dad was heavily medicated, he silently confessed about the impending end of his marriage.

“Uh…” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “It’s…coming along. I just sent some edits back.”

His dad hums. “And how’s Vicky doing?” There was a subtle but peculiar lilt to his tone. For a moment, Namjoon wondered if his dad had been consciously listening the whole time, even with a high dose of morphine in his system.

“She’s…alright. Busy working, you know.”

His dad hums again. “Is she still having some trouble–you know, emotionally?”

Namjoon inhaled sharply. “Uhm…she’s talking to someone to help with that.”

“That’s good. I’m glad…I was worried about her…” He coughs a little, “...and you.”

“Thanks, dad. I’ll be alright. Just a little stressed out from work.”

“Harabeoji!” Joobin calls out when he walks into the room, much to Namjoon’s relief.

“Joobinie!” His dad beams at the sight of his grandchildren.

Jooni quietly walks in right behind him, clutching a couple of stuffed animals with her. Namjoon uses this opportunity to make a hasty exit, mentioning a call that he needed to return.

On his way back down to the basement, he shoots his friend Hobi a quick text, inviting him to stop by since his dad was awake and he thought it would lift his spirits to see a familiar face.

******

Taehyung drives ahead of Eunhae as he leads her towards one out of the only two hotels in town. This one was family-run while the other was part of a national chain.

“Thanks for the escort,” she tells him after he gets out of the car. “You know, you didn’t have to. I could have just used the GPS.”

“The GPS would have told you to get back on the highway only to exit three minutes later just to get here,” Taehyung answers.

He was right. The GPS didn��t have a clue about the residential route–but even then, only someone who grew up in this town would know that.

“Well, either way, I appreciate it,” she smiles at him.

“Why’d you come here?”

Eunhae opened her mouth to speak but shut it quickly, as if she was trying to rethink her answer.

“And how did you know that I’d be here anyway?”

“Y-you told me…sort of…the other night, when you knocked on my door,” she stuttered.

Taehyung thought back on that night in question. He remembered knocking on her door and her being skittish…telling him that she was busy with a date. To be honest, he was so overwhelmed with the whole situation that he doesn’t recall what else he might have told Eunhae, or how much detail he shared about his dad.

“Okay but…how did you know where my family lives? I don’t remember telling you that.”

She smiles uncomfortably and decides to come clean. “I–” she sighed softly, “I ran into Jungkook the day after you left, while he was picking up your mail, and I asked him where you were.”

Taehyung internally groans, making a mental note to reprimand his friend.

“Please don’t be mad at him. I practically threatened him if he didn’t give me the address,” she adds quickly. “I…I was worried.”

“You were worried?” After she practically ghosted him last time, he was right to feel skeptical about that.

“Well…of course, I was. You looked really upset last time and–”

“You didn’t have to come all the way out here,” he interjects blandly. “You didn’t have to waste gas or…” he shrugged, “...your time.”

Eunhae was visibly hurt…but she knew within some part of her that she deserved his ire. “Tae, I know that this isn’t really the right time for this but, I just want to tell you that I’m really sorry.”

“You’re sorry about…what? My dad dying? Or for sleeping with me and then ghosting me?”

She pursed her lips and shifted her eyes downward. “For…everything,” she says quietly.

Taehyung sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t understand, Eunhae. I thought–” he sighed, “I thought we were cool. And then…you just cut me out for no reason?”

“There was a reason.”

He scoffed. “Oh, that date that you were on?”

“No, Tae. I–” she sighed softly, pausing for a beat, before shaking her head. “I wasn’t on a date.”

He jerked his neck back in surprise then knitted his eyebrows in confusion. “What? But you said–”

“I know…but I wasn’t. Not really. I just…” She pauses to collect her thoughts, gripping at the handle on her small, overnight luggage. “I was avoiding you.”

“W-why would you avoid me?”

“Because! I saw that look in your eyes after we had sex!”

He winced, furrowing his brows so far in, she thought they were merging. “What ‘look’?”

Eunhae took in a shaky breath. “The ‘look’ that says you want more.”

Taehyung is slightly taken aback and utterly confused. He wasn’t sure that he looked at her any differently than he did in the past. “How can you tell that just by one look? A look that I usually have after an orgasm?”

She rolls her eyes in exasperation. “It was different that time.” She lowered her voice to almost a whisper. “It felt different.”

His heart lurches in his chest and his mouth goes dry while he keeps his gaze at her. In a matter of seconds, he flashes back to that night–the last one they spent together after coming back from babysitting the kids. They had shared personal things about their lives, deepening their connection.

Taehyung tried his best to maintain distance. He tried his best to stay in his lane–just as she wanted. But it was difficult not to yearn. By nature, he was somebody who felt deeply about people, especially those whom he cared for. And he cared about her…a lot. It was difficult for him to admit it within himself. But he already knew…he knew it even before YN called him out on it.

After that night, he thought about pursuing a real relationship with her. But she shut all that down when she started avoiding him. His shoulders slumped and he put his hands on his hips, hardening his expression. “What does it matter, Eunhae? Feelings complicate things, right?”

She stilled at the sound of her words being thrown back at her. When they first met, she had just gotten her first legitimate job. She was feeling some pressure from her family to ‘help out.’ Getting into a romantic relationship would just be a distraction. It would derail her. But just because she chose not to get into a relationship didn’t mean she couldn’t at least enjoy a casual fling or two.

Living in the city felt lonely, especially when she barely went home to go see her family. Taehyung came in at just the right time, when he found her struggling with a few boxes that she was moving into the apartment across the hall. Had she known this pretty boy would be more than what she bargained for, she would have run in the opposite direction and never looked back.

She nodded wordlessly. “Right. Listen, Taehyung–for what it’s worth, I’m sorry about your dad. Let’s just say…I know what it feels like to go through the same thing.” With a faint smile, she walks away from him and up to the front desk to check in.

His eyebrows lifted but she doesn’t see Taehyung’s face soften. He decides not to pry any further. It was just as he said earlier–what would it matter?

He begrudgingly gets back into his car to drive home.

So what if he felt something for her? He wouldn’t get a chance to explore that. She made that clear before and she’s making it clear now. Besides, he had other things to worry about other than telling Eunhae that he had fallen for her.

******

“...And then me and my friend Nicholas play at the monkey bars at recess. He always likes my snacks because mommy gives me cookies-n-cream Pocky. So now, I ask mommy to pack me another one so I can share it with him.” Joobin sat on the bed–at your dad’s insistence–and talked animatedly about his adventures at school.

Your dad’s laughter is reduced to wheezing but he still showed that he was just as entertained by your son’s school anecdotes. “That’s nice of you, Joobinie,” he whispers.

After you rolled your eyes at the thought of funding another child’s snack budget, they shifted to the other corner of the room, where Jooni was playing on the floor.

“Jooni, do you want to come here and talk to harabeoji about your little friends at school?”

She doesn’t look up but shakes her head softly. Your dad was lucid this afternoon, his pain level was at a fairly manageable level, all things considered. When he woke, he asked about his grandchildren. After Sam paid his respects, the kids cautiously entered the room.

Since you arrived, you wrestled with the thought of how to tell your children that they may not see their beloved grandfather again. After breakfast, you finally gathered up the courage to tell them. You explained to them that harabeoji was sick, like how their little friend Kevin got sick. And just like Kevin, he wasn’t going to get better either.

This was the reason why you were staying here for a few days–to keep harabeoji company and make sure that he has all the happy memories that he can bring with him when it was time for him to go.

Joobin was happy to rise to the occasion, making sure to tell harabeoji many, many funny stories about how first grade was better than kindergarten in so many ways, except for the part where he only had two recesses instead of the three that he used to get last year.

Jooni, on the other hand, has been quiet since your earlier conversation. As soon as she set foot in the room where your dad was, her silence was even more uncharacteristic, especially around him. She was very close to your dad. In fact, whenever your dad came over to the city, she always followed him around. She took her very first steps trying to walk to him in the kitchen while he made kalguksu.

//FLASHBACK

“Mommyyyy! Something’s wrong with Kevin!” Your stomach drops in the middle of packing the kids’ lunches and rush upstairs to Joobin’s room. You took a couple of tentative steps towards the small space next to his nightlight where your kids currently crowded a 19” x 12” cage.

Kevin the hamster had not been as active in the last few days. It was Joobin who pointed out that he hadn’t played on his wheel, or run up his little tube-obstacle course. Even putting him in his hamster ball didn’t make a difference. He just slept in it, when normally, he would be running around the hallways and the living room, getting himself stuck underneath the couch. Nowadays, he is slower and would rather sleep.

“Mom, why won’t he eat his breakfast?” Joobin asks.

“Mommy, is Kevin okay?” Jooni is equally worried. She had just turned three and this was her first pet, ever. Kevin’s breakfast was Jooni’s responsibility and she took it to heart. This morning, no matter how much they tried to coax him out of it, Kevin remained in his burrow–even when presented with his favorite, apple slices.

Joobin had been asking for a pet that wasn’t a fish. He asked for an animal that he could actually pet and hug. You and Sam knew that he was alluding to a dog and you held off for the longest time, using Jooni as an excuse because she was still too little or that she might get ‘scared.’ Shortly after his sister’s 2nd birthday, he deemed that she was big enough to help him take care of it.

Although Joobin felt as though he had been tricked, he grew comfortable with the idea of starting off small, then working his way up. The sales associate enthusiastically told you that the average lifespan for a hamster was about 2-3 years. At best, you thought it would last 6 months–maybe a year, if you were being optimistic.

It’s been a little over 13 months now and here you were, faced with Kevin’s possible mortality.

“Uhm–guys, you know what? I think Kevin needs a minute.”

“Like after you go running?” Joobin asks.

“Yes, bud. Just like how mommy comes back from a run.” You check your watch to find that if you didn’t leave home in the next 5 minutes, you’d find yourself at the back of the car line and would be late to your next appointment.

“Guys, listen–how ‘bout we leave for school now and when I get back home, I’ll check on Kevin. Does that sound like a good idea?”

“You promise?” Jooni’s eyes are pleading.

“Yes, baby. I promise that I will check on him when I get home.” When she smiles, you shift your eyes to Joobin for confirmation and he gives you a nod.

On your way out of the room, while Jooni was out of earshot, Joobin stops you. “Is Kevin going to be okay, mom?” He asks softly.

You pursed your lips and look at him. You knew that it was a high possibility that Kevin would not come out of this alive. You didn’t want to make it sound bleak but you also didn’t want to lie to him and set expectations that could eventually break his heart.

You crouched down to his level and addressed him carefully. “Honestly, I’m not sure, buddy.” Joobin’s face turns crestfallen. “But–” you squeezed his little hand in yours for assurance, “We’ll figure it out, okay?” It wasn’t a guarantee but whatever happened, you would deal with it together.

//END FLASHBACK

******

You sigh and call her again, more sternly this time. “Jooni-yah.”

“That’s okay, YN. I think the bed might be scaring her,” he says, waving his hand softly. “Just let her be.”

“Harabeoji?”

“Yes, Joobin?”

“Does your boo-boo hurt?”

Your breath hitches at your son’s frank question. At six years old, Joobin was wise beyond his years. He was also inherently curious–as children should be.

“Not right now, sonja, but thank you for asking,” your dad responds quietly.

Joobin nods then turns to you. “Mom, can I please get a snack from Auntie Yoojung downstairs?”

“Sure.”

“Harabeoji, do you want a snack, too?” He asks.

Your dad shook his head gingerly. “No, thank you. I’m still full from breakfast.”

With another quick nod, you help Joobin off the bed and he walks downstairs to the kitchen.

“Why did you lie ha-beoji? You didn’t eat your food.” You turn to see Jooni, now standing and addressing your dad directly.

“Jooni–”

“Mommy said it’s bad to lie. Your bowl was still full when ha-meoni took it.”

You didn’t even realize that Jooni was paying attention when your mom put your dad’s tray away–the food remaining untouched.

Your dad smiles softly and beckons her. “Come here, princess.”

She hesitates for a few seconds but eventually walks up to the bed. Once she was by his side, he gently pats the empty space next to him, inviting her to sit. “Don’t be scared, sweetheart. It’s just me.”

She raises her arms on the bed for leverage and tries to pull herself up on her own. Nervous that she might accidentally put her weight somewhere that could hurt your dad, you pick her up and prop her at a safe distance from him.

He squeezes her little hand carefully. “I’m sorry, princess. I didn’t mean to lie. I just wasn’t hungry.”

“You slept so much yesterday. You’re not hungry? I’m always hungry when I wake up.”

Your dad wheeze-laughed at her. “I know, sonnyeo. But that’s because you’re so little. You need to eat more so you can grow bigger. Harabeoji is old. I don’t need to eat that much anymore.”

“But Kevin stopped eating, too.”

Your dad’s eyebrows knit and shifts his gaze at you, giving you a confused look. He remembered your kids’ pet hamster. They never missed a chance to show him off whenever your parents were in town.

“I don’t want you to be like Kevin…” Her voice started to crack and she let out a sob. “I don’t want you to go to Paradise Falls, ha-beoji. I want you to stay here,” she whimpered.

“Oh, baby…” Your heart squeezes.

Your dad slowly lifts his arm and gestures at Jooni to lay next to him. She obliges.

He winces a little but he squeezes her closer to him anyway. “You know, princess, where I’m going–I’ll still be able to watch over you and your brother. I’ll come to you in your dreams and we can play there as much as you want. Your mommy can’t stop us there. We can play all day and anytime.”

You clasp your hand firmly on your mouth, trying to will your tears to the back of your eyes. You wanted your children to understand the concept of life and death at an early age. Most people think it’s a mistake to open up young kids to the idea but is there ever an ideal age to wrap your head around a life that was coming to an end?

It was a difficult topic but with your dad’s looming mortality, it would be more difficult to explain to your children why one of their heroes would suddenly disappear from their lives. Kevin was just a pet, but the kids loved him and treated him like family. And although you and Sam had to sugarcoat it at the time–using one of their favorite movies to explain why Kevin was gone and where he was headed to after, they understood that he wasn’t coming back. They would be sad for a bit but they can always smile at the thought that they loved and cared for him–and that he would remember that–when he got to Paradise Falls.

******

About an hour later, Namjoon’s phone pings with a text–thankfully, not from Victoria. It was Hobi letting him know that he just pulled up to his house and would be walking across the street shortly.

He walks up the steps from the basement and down the hallway towards the front door. He opens it just in time to see Hobi making his way up the front porch. Namjoon grins widely while Hobi’s brows furrow slightly at his friend’s scruffier look. He made it a point to ask about it later.

“Namjoonie.”

“Hey, bro,” Namjoon greets him with a hug by the front door.

“I meant to stop by yesterday.”

He waves Hobi off. “Aish, c’mon, man. No worries at all. You’re always welcome here, you know.” Namjoon pats him on the back.

Just then, Taehyung steps back into the house from the garage entrance after returning from a most perplexing drive back from Eunhae’s hotel. His eyes light up when he sees Hobi and quickly approaches to greet him.

“Hyung!” His arms outstretched the entire walk down the hallway towards Hobi, until he engulfs him in a tight embrace.

“Hey, Taehyungie.”

“Good to see you, hyung,” Taehyung smiles as he pulls away.

Hobi’s eyes wander around the room briefly. “Is your mom around?”

“Hobi! Hi, sweetheart,” your mom greets him as she walks into the foyer from the den. “Eomeonim,” he greets her with a smile and a low bow.

Her hand flies to her chest and lets out an exaggerated gasp, widening her eyes at him. “Ya! ‘Eomeonim’? Whatever happened to ‘eomma?’”

Hobi smiles sheepishly while Namjoon and Taehyung snicker. “I…wasn’t sure if I was still allowed–”

“Jung Hoseok! You are as good my child as your mom is my children’s second mother. Now you come here and give eomma a hug!”

Hobi obliges and she wraps her arms tightly around him. “Thank you for coming, Hoseokie,” she says softly into his ear. She pulls away and cups his face, smiling warmly at him. “Come on, upstairs. I’ll take you to him.”

As they start to walk towards the stairs, they stop at the sound of Joobin barrelling from the kitchen.

“Halmeoni! Halmeoni! Can I please have more–” He abruptly stops by the front doorway as his line of sight shifts from his grandmother to uncles and the newcomer.

Namjoon jerks his head sideways in Joobin’s direction. “Hobi, have you met Joobin?” Hobi was familiar with your kids. Namjoon never missed a chance to talk about them or show off new photos whenever they met up. This was the first time that Hobi was being formally introduced.

“I know of him but never met him. Hi there,” Hobi smiles at Joobin.

Joobin walks up to him to introduce himself. “Hi, I’m Joobin.”

“My name is Hoseok, but you can call me Hobi.”

“Nice to meet you, Hobi-nim.” Joobin says with a small bow. Afterwards, he turns to his grandmother. “Excuse me, Halmeoni?”

“Yes, darling?”

“May I please have another hotteok? Auntie Yoojung says to ask mommy but I think she’s busy.” Your mom cocked an eyebrow at him. He could very well run up the steps to ask you but he knows you’d say no if he wanted another. He was upping his chances by asking halmeoni.

She bends down slightly and whispers to him. “Fine. One very small piece, okay?” She says with a wink.

Joobin smiles, thanks his grandmother and runs back into the kitchen for another treat.

“You know you’re playing with fire, right, ma?” Namjoon’s tone is teasing.

She scoffs. “Aish, Namjoon-ah. Your halmeoni did the same thing. Just be quiet and don’t rat me out to your sister.”

He and Hobi share a smirk and chuckle amongst themselves as they make their way upstairs to your dad’s room.

******

After calming Jooni down, you lifted her off your dad’s bed. It was nearing dinnertime and you wanted to help Yoojung get things started. She’s been such a saint–making all of the family’s meals, as the oldest son’s wife.

It didn’t really need to fall on her but Yoojung was relatively traditional and took these responsibilities to heart. While Jin continued to run the restaurant, she took a leave from her job as a school teacher to help take care of your family.

She was maternal in every way imaginable–minus an actual child. She was great with your kids and loved them as her own. It was terrible of you to think that on some days, you wished you could deposit Joobin and Jooni at Jin and Yoojung’s for a weekend just to get a breather.

But mom-guilt was real. The clank and drag of the ball and chain echoed in your head whenever you attempted to make plans for yourself. Although Yoojung and Taehyung were happy to watch your children, and you could very well afford a part-time nanny with how much Sam made, you chose to do things yourself. You were genuinely happy about it. Very early on, you knew that you wanted to be there for all of your babies’ milestones.

You scaled back at your old office job after Joobin was born; even turning down a promotion because it would mean spending more time at work and less time with him.

When Jooni was born, it was getting more difficult to manage it, so you quit and took on some consulting work. You set your own hours and you could work from wherever you needed to and sign off in time to make the kids dinner and put them to bed.

You checked to make sure that your dad’s pain was still manageable–to which, he says that he wanted to ‘rest his eyes’ for a bit. Jooni was still feeling extra-clingy so you picked her up, rested her on your hip while she buried her face into your neck.

You step out of the room and when you look up, you are stopped in your tracks at the threshold after you see three pairs of eyes staring at you.

“Hobi!” You breathed out while you stared back at them, wide-eyed and mouth agape.

“Uh…h-hi, w-what are you–” you stutter, looking to your mom and Namjoon for answers.

“Hobi had a free afternoon, honey. He’s come to say ‘hi’ to your dad.”

“Hey, sunshine,” he smiles warmly at you and you return it with your own lopsided grin.

“My mommy’s name is YN, not ‘Sunshine,’”Jooni giggles upon hearing Hobi’s nickname for you, to which Namjoon distantly coughs, clearing his throat.

You laugh uncomfortably while you readjust your hold on Jooni.

“I know,” Hobi says gently. “I just always used to call her that.”

Jooni grins at him. “What did she call you?” You gasped as you did not expect that at all. You could hear Namjoon distantly choking on his own saliva.

You gulped, attempting to steer the conversation in a different direction. “Uhm–Jooni, this is Hoseok-ssi.”

“Hoseok-ssi,” she repeated in her little voice, giving him a smile.

He leans in and smiles warmly back at her. “Nice to meet you, Jooni. You look like a ray of sunshine, too.”

“Or a raincloud,” Namjoon jokes. She pouts playfully at her uncle.

“Just kidding, princess. Come on, there’s some hotteok downstairs. Do you want to come with me to see if Joobin-oppa left you some?”

She whines a little. “No! I want my own hotteok, Uncle Joonie.” You nearly drop her as she immediately squirms out of your hold to rush towards Namjoon.

You shoot Namjoon a warning look but he’s already off to bribe Jooni with food.

“Oh…you know kids and their snacks,” your mom laughs. “Anyway, let me go and check in with him first, Hobi.” She enters the room to find out whether your dad was still up for a quick visit, leaving you and Hobi standing in the hallway.

You open your mouth to speak but Hobi is suddenly startled at the sudden grumbling on the other side of the door behind him–the room that Sam was in.

“No-no-no, that’s just not going to work for us! You are trying to worm your way into this deal and we are not going to stand for it! What else have you got?”

“S-sorry. It’s uh…work. He’s been a little stressed out,” you say feebly.

“I can tell,” Hobi remarks as more muffled ranting comes through the closed door. He was pretty familiar with the room behind it as it was Namjoon’s old bedroom, where he spent many afternoons hanging out after they came home from school. His level of familiarity with Namjoon’s room was only rivaled by the one directly across from it.

”He’s…talking to some clients in Berlin. It’s supposed to be a big deal,” you say dryly. You don’t know why you’re telling him this–it’s not like it was crucial information. “Anyway, I had to tell him to move across the hall so he wouldn’t disturb my dad.”

“Well, he sounds like someone used to pushing people around to get what he wants.”

You shrugged. “He wouldn’t be good at his job if he wasn’t.”

“As long as he doesn’t do it to you,” he mutters under his breath but loud enough for you to hear.

Your eyebrows furrow slightly. “Huh?”

“I mean–” he paused to choose his next few words carefully. “As long as that tone stays within his business hours and not, you know,” he downturned his mouth slightly, “…after-hours.”

You chuckled and shook your head. Heaven forbid Sam spoke to you like a client. You may have given up some things since marrying him but you were still the same person who grew up with three strong-willed brothers. “Psh, as if I would ever allow him to do that.” you say to Hobi directly.

Hobi laughs at your spunky tone.

“Hobah!” You both turn your heads at your dad calling out to Hobi from his bed. “Get in here!”

“Guess I’m being summoned,” he chuckled while he advanced towards the doorway. You stepped away from the doorframe in an attempt to get out of the way but ended up blocking him.

“S-sorry,“ you both stutter.

Embarrassed, you sidestep in the opposite direction only to find him mirroring your action.

With a chuckle, you carefully place your hands on his arms to hold him still, tuning out the sound of his breath hitching upon contact. You take one step off to the side and clear the way for him and withdraw your hands.

“I’ll uh, see you later,” was all you could muster before turning away to head downstairs to the kitchen.

******

The kids busied themselves with their devices while you helped Yoojung get dinner ready. Namjoon and Taehyung wander in, no doubt lured by the smell of food. Minutes after you set the table and make your children plates, your mom and Hobi make their way into the kitchen.

“Oh, good! Dinner is ready,” she remarked.

“Eomma, I should probably go–”

“Nonsense! You will eat here first before you go. I won’t get in trouble with your mom,” she smiled, not leaving any room for him to protest.

She urged him to take a seat at the table. He walks over, preparing to take a seat next to Namjoon. “Hoseok-ssi, you can sit next to me,” Jooni smiles at him.

You stop fussing around a baking dish, astounded at your daughter’s invitation. Taehyung and Namjoon exchanged surprised looks.

“Uhh…are you sure?” Hobi asks apprehensively.

“Yeah! You can watch me finish my vegetables,” she says proudly.

Joobin laughs at his sister’s comment. “What’s so cool about watching you eat vegetables?”

Jooni scowls at him. “Shh! I’m trying to make a new friend, oppa.”

“Then we shouldn’t be fighting in front of a new friend, right?” You say to them as you lay the baking dish in the middle of the table.

Hobi moves up to sit next to Jooni and you take your seat next to Joobin.

“Is Sam-hyung joining us, noona?” Taehyung asks.

“Oh–uh, no. He’s stuck on a video call but I put aside a plate for him,” you reply.

“Well, that’s good to know. I wouldn’t want to hold back, especially on dak galbi,” Namjoon mutters.

Your mom audibly clears her throat at him, which Namjoon ignores as he spoons some chicken on his plate.

******

“Oh, man…I’m so full. I don’t know how I can manage to roll myself back to the bar,” Hobi laughs.

“Can’t you take the night off?” Namjoon asks.

Hobi shook his head gently. “Nah…I have to head back to Hangsang. Otherwise, Yoongi-hyung might rage-quit on me,” he chuckles while getting up from his seat.

Namjoon follows suit, along with your mom.

“I’ll walk you out, bro,” Namjoon says.

Hobi mouths his thanks to him and turns back, bowing to everyone. “Thank you for having me.” He looks to be addressing the whole table when in fact, he was just looking at you.

You return his gaze and smile politely at him but you don’t linger. Instead, you turn your attention back to your children.

At the doorway, he does a quick bro-hug exchange with Namjoon before he turns back to your mom.

“Thank you for coming, Hobi,” your mom says.

“I’m so sorry about appa. My mom sends her love, too,” Hobi says gently.

She smiles sadly, as if in silent gratitude. He gives her one more hug.

Before he pulls away, his line of sight wanders upward, where sees a figure making their way down the stairs. When he steps back, he acknowledges that it was Sam. Namjoon and your mom look up to see him standing halfway down the steps.

He and Hobi briefly lock eyes. Hobi bobs his head quickly for a nod and Sam does the same. Tearing his attention away from him and back to your mom, Hobi says his final goodbyes.

“Just let me know if you need anything, eomma. I’m one call away,” he says with a smile before stepping out of the door, which Namjoon was holding open.

When the door shuts, Sam walks to the bottom of the steps and asks where you were. “Jangmonim, have you seen YN?”

“In the kitchen, with the kids. She put aside a dinner plate for you.”

“Thank you,” he says quietly before proceeding to the kitchen.

Your mom and Namjoon exchanged looks before she headed back upstairs to check on your dad while he retreated back to the basement.

******

It didn’t matter where you were–laundry was always your number one nemesis–only second to the car line at Joobin’s school. After checking on your dad and putting the kids to bed, you started the painfully necessary chore of folding clothes.

You look up to see Sam entering the room right after his shower.

“Your dad seemed like he was in better spirits today.”

You scoffed while you folded a pair of Jooni’s pajamas. “I guess that’s one way of looking at it.”

Sam realizes his blunder and immediately tries to rectify it. “I’m sorry, YN–I was only trying–”

“It’s–” you interject then sighed ruefully, “It’s alright. I know you mean well,” you say softly without looking up at him.

He paused to lean back against the desk across the bed. You could feel his eyes on you but you kept your attention on the pile of clothing that you were carefully sorting out. He folded his arms across his chest then chewed at his bottom lip for a few seconds. He then cleared his throat. “I uh, see that your neighbor, Hoseok stopped by today.”

You faltered for a fraction of a second at the sound of his name but continued to pull more clothes out of the hamper to fold them. “Yeah, he did,” you say evenly.

“What are the chances that he comes to visit on the day that your dad was lucid?”

You picked up the edge in his tone but you weren’t taking the bait. You kept your focus on getting to the bottom of this hamper. “I’m sure Namjoon-oppa texted or called to let him know that.”

“Right…because they’re best friends.”

“Yep, since nursery school,” you respond.

He chuckled softly. “You know, I didn’t realize that he called your mom, ‘eomma.’” Sam knew that you and Hobi had history. He just wasn’t sure how deep it was since you didn’t really talk about it and your family sure as hell wasn’t going around volunteering information.

Sam knew that you grew up together and dated from your junior year in high school up until you graduated college. Then, not long after moving to the city for an internship, things ended. Shortly after that, you and Sam met.

It took a while for your family to get used to the idea of him being around but you stood by him. Taehyung took to him more quickly, followed by Jin, then your mom–who eventually talked your dad into accepting him. Namjoon was the holdout–understandably so. He came around eventually, after Joobin was born.

You exhaled sharply after putting the last bit of the kids’ clothes in two neat piles. You looked up at your husband, who stood across from you.

He stared back at you blankly, in an effort to appear ambivalent.

Cocking your head to the side, you moisten your lips. You were tired of this conversation but went ahead and repeated the same speech you’ve given over the years. “Hoseok has been our family friend for years. My brothers and I have grown up with him; our parents are friends. So yes, he calls my parents ‘eomma’ and ‘appa.’”

“And do you call his mom ‘eomma,’ too?” He vaguely remembered you coming back home to attend Hobi’s dad’s funeral a couple years back.

“Yes, I do.” you answer firmly. “And so do my brothers.” You arch an eyebrow at him, gearing up for any more questions that he may have.

He purses his lips and nods, seemingly satisfied with your answer. He pulls himself away from the desk that he was leaning against then rounds the bed to begin to settle under the covers.

You finish folding the last pieces of clothing, load them back into the hamper, then pick it up to make your way across the hall to put them back into their dresser.

“Are you mad about me working?” His question stops you mid-way to the door. You turn to face him, hamper still in-hand.

“Why would I be mad? It’s work, right?”

He sighed wearily. “Okay. I just…didn’t want to get into a fight about this if we didn’t need to.”

You scoffed. “Who says I want to fight? I’ve got other things to be upset about than you being on the phone or on your computer all day.”

His jaw tensed. “I could have done all this in-person instead of remotely–”

“You didn’t have to come,” you interjected. “You could have stayed in Berlin or Amsterdam to finish whatever you needed to.”

“Well, when you called, you sounded really upset so I thought that I needed to be here,” he argued.

“Because my dad is dying, Sam!” You bit back, releasing the hamper’s straps, making it land on the floor with a soft thud. “Of course, I was upset when I called you—“ You stopped yourself before your voice rose any further.

You shut your eyes for a second, and took two slow breaths to calm the incessant beating in your chest. “I just didn’t want my family saying anything…about you and me.”

He gave you a wry look. “I think we’re past worrying about appearances, don’t you think?” It was a rhetorical question at this point. But somewhere in the back of your mind, you wanted to push that thought aside.

Your family was vaguely aware that Sam’s work took him away from home a lot. He’s been given more responsibilities, handling larger and more complex negotiations.

When he was home, he was understandably tired. He spent time with the kids when he could muster it. You went on meticulously planned date nights or family vacations. It had to be on his schedule because your time was more flexible.

Eventually, Namjoon got tired of pointing it out. It was easier to avoid the conversation with the rest of your family since you barely went home and they didn’t know how much time Sam actually spent working.

He’s just really committed to his job.

He’s under a lot of pressure to deliver.

He pays the bills and helps with the kids when he can.

No, he is not having an affair. He loves our family and he’s making a huge sacrifice for us.

“Would it kill you just to put in a bit more effort?” You whispered harshly but the undertone of your voice was pleading.

He dug his thumb and forefinger into the inner corners of his eyes before looking back at you. He nods silently, after a beat.

“Thank you,” you utter, then pick up the hamper’s handles once more and turn your back on him.

“By the way, I have another early call at 4:30 tomorrow morning.” You paused again, turning your head slightly to respond to him. “‘Kay. I’m going to sleep with the kids then so I can be out of your way.”

With a huff, you reach for the doorknob and call over your shoulder. “Can you please try harder to keep your voice down tomorrow? Or I can book you a hotel room—“

“I’ll keep it down,” he says immediately.

With a tight smile, you murmur your thanks again and say good night before walking across the hall to snuggle up to your babies.

******

After a full day at the restaurant, Jin greets Yoojung and they briefly talk about their day. The restaurant was busy and he couldn’t come home in-between lunch and dinner service since he had to make some emergency supply runs. After a quick conversation, she urges him to go upstairs to hopefully still catch his dad awake. He cups her face in his hands and kisses her tenderly, thanking her for essentially managing the household while his mom was preoccupied with his dad.

When Jin walked into the room, he fully expected his dad to be asleep again. To his surprise, he was still alert, even at this late hour.

“How was service today?” Your dad croaks out.

Jin chuckles as he sinks into the wingback chair. “Very good. We actually ran out of some stuff. I had to go and make an emergency stop at the store so we could finish out the day strong.”

He smiled approvingly.

Jin was dead-tired but his exhaustion was all but forgotten while he spoke to his dad. “How ‘bout you, dad? Did you have a good day?”

“I sure did! Joobinie talked my ear off,” he laughed.

Jin laughed as well.

“He’s very smart, that one. Quiet, but a really deep thinker,” his dad mused.

Jin nods in agreement.

“He reminds me of Taehyungie.”

“Mm. How’d you figure that?”

His dad smiled thoughtfully. “He sits and watches before he makes a move. You think you know what he’s thinking; what he’s going to do. And then before you know it, he just surprises you.”

Jin moves his palms back and forth on top of the armrests. “He’s a good kid. YN’s doing a great job with him.” Then he quickly adds, “And Jooni, too.”

Your dad grinned then wheezed. “Oh! She’s a little firecracker.”

“That, she is. She takes after YN. She may be small but she will make her voice heard.” Jin’s chest rose, then he released a deep, wistful breath. “Yoojung is so good with them.”

His dad hummed warm-heartedly. “You’ll both make good parents someday.”

There was a pause, then Jin chuckled. “I know she’ll be a good mom. I’m not so sure about myself, though.”

“I’ve never known you to shy away from a big job.”

Kids were a job, alright. And it terrified Jin to the core. At an early age, he has seen the struggles that his parents went through. It was difficult but they managed it, despite the circumstances.

“Kids are different, dad.”

He wasn’t sure if he was up to the task of being a parent. The restaurant was a huge challenge but he eventually got the hang of it. He just had to make sure that it ran smoothly, add some modern adjustments, and that the staff was happy in order for the business to be sustainable.

“You single handedly took over our family business. Even before you felt that you were ready. How different would it be with a child?”

Jin let out a humorless laugh. It wasn’t the diapers or the sleepless nights. It wasn’t the potential tantrums, fear of not being able to teach the right values, or other societal pressures involved in raising a child.

“I…” He lifted a shoulder and bit the corner of his bottom lip before hissing out a breath. “I just don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do it as well as you.”

His dad’s brows knitted at Jin for a beat before letting out a wheezing laugh, which turned into a minor coughing fit. Jin gets up to hand him the cup of water that was closeby.

After taking a few sips through a straw and catches his breath,he waves his hand gently, letting Jin know that he was alright.

“I’m sorry for laughing,” he smiles languidly at Jin.

“I think you’re overexerting yourself,” Jin remarks. After ensuring that his dad was alright, he sits back down on the chair, in a slightly more tense posture.

Taking in a deep, slow breath, his dad continues his thought. “This was like our conversation in the kitchen about the kalguksu. Do you think that my kalguksu is the same exact recipe that your harabeoji had? Of course not!”

Jin relaxed his shoulders a bit.

“I showed you and your siblings how to make my food but I don’t keep any of the recipes. The only time I started writing them down was when you asked me to.”

When his dad started scaling his duties back at the restaurant, Jin asked his dad to write down all of his recipes. Before that, his dad kept everything in his head.

“Dad, documentation is important,” Jin chuckled. It was a vital lesson that he picked up from business school. His dad was not very good at it, which was why his mom basically hired Hobi’s mom to manage the books for the restaurant in addition to her husband’s bar.

After she retired, Jin took over that task until he slowly took on the rest of the business’s responsibilities.

“The point, Seokjin–” he sucks in another breath, “We all have different approaches to certain things. You are free to tailor it to your liking–whatever works for you. Have you tried your sister’s maeuntang lately?”

Jin thought about it–it was one random weekend a few months ago, when he and Yoojung came to visit. It was right after their appointment at the fertility clinic and they stopped by YN’s house for dinner before driving back home.

“It’s been a while, but I remember. It tastes just like yours,” Jin says casually.

“It most definitely does not,” his dad responds with a smile. “Apart from the fish, she’s made so many changes to it—most likely because she can’t get some of the ingredients over there. But she’s done a great job of it. She made it work for her. And see? You can barely taste the difference!”

“Still–it’s…” Jin groans, “I’m terrified, dad. You…you were amazing with us!”

His dad wheezed in laughter. “That’s what you think! Do you know how many times I called your mom while she was on-set every time something came up?”

Jin relaxed with a sigh.

“Seokjinnie, if you’re scared about parenthood, then do it ‘scared’! If you have no idea what you’re doing, ask your mom; ask your yeodongsaeng. Don’t ever be afraid to ask for help. You’re never too good for it.”

Jin silently held his lips between his teeth while he stared at his dad. He looked even weaker than he did at the hospital. “What would we do without you, dad?” He whispers, his eyes welling up at the thought.

His shoulders lifted slightly. “You’ll all keep living.”

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detectivechandler · 8 months

Note

what? That description in the post is actually much more on point than yours in the tags! He throws pizza boxes? Who does he call unintelligent? He hides behind his mental illness...?! Which behaviour did you consider arrogant? He was quite self-doubting, Miles actually gave him a few talks on that!

alright, I said I would answer this yesterday afternoon but the day got ahead of me and my brain was too fatigued to open a laptop so here's hoping you still give a damn enough to read it. First of all, I think it needs to be understood that I never said I necessarily disagreed with the traits presented in the post, nor did I state that the traits I mentioned within the tags were all there was. I did nothing but defend Joe 100% of the time when I first made this character because he is a super, soft, sweet man... but he is also human and that is what makes him compelling. He is not all positive traits (just as he is not all negative) and that is what my tags were trying to point out - instances of opposite behavior. One does not negate the other. I want a character to be complex, especially one that means so much to me. Recognizing flaws and mistakes and what would be considered 'negative' personality traits, does not mean you hate the person/character. On that note, since I do have ten thousand reasons why I love Joe and wish to protect him at all costs throughout various posts on my blog and have been meaning to address some of the things you mention anyways, I'm gonna try to go point by point. Under a cut because its gonna get long, I think.

Also want to note that sometimes, nailing down Joe's characterization is pretty difficult even as a casual observer that doesnt put much thought into it because whitechapel (i love it, i truly do) is very inconsistent with its writing. He has 5 cars in the span of four seasons, for example. The way he reacts to people and stress changes. He is very puppy (my little golden retriever boy) in season 2 and, while he remains the same in some aspects, he is back to being Joe in season 3 and 4.

I touched on everything in this ask (I think. My brain is mush right now) except for the mental illness post because I believe that deserves its own meta so that will be the next thing I go insane over. And again, thanks for sending this! For real. You motivated me to actually sit down and write out the various things in my mind rather than let my blog stay a shrine to all things Joe (stay gold, ponyboy) because it is/was so tempting. As my comfort character, I'm motivated (especially during this time of my life) to really build up how wonderful he is and ignore more negative traits (that again, dont necessarily negate the positive ones. Personality aspects co exist, even when they seem to contradict one another) and that's not the kind of writer I want to be. But, more importantly, that's not a true comfort character. I find strength in the fact that Joe is as fucked up as the rest of us in his own ways. He's struggling. He can be mean. He yells when hes frustrated and he makes snap judgments about others before getting to know them. He's a person. Like me. Like you. Like all of us. THAT is what I find comfort in. I love that he is three dimensional and I get that some people don't like acknowledging things like that, I do... but personally, for me, I don't believe in entirely herowashing or only focusing on the good. I love him because he is as flawed as me but he fights to be anyhow.

What's that stupid quote from the last episode of season 2? I may stumble, but I never fall.

For the pizza box thing - season 4, episode 4. The exchange that leads to it starts at 14:42. I wish I could gif it but alas. I don't have photoshop on this computer and won't have my mac back until next week. Basically, Joe and Miles are looking at the whiteboard while Joe tries to piece together the common factor shared between the cases thus far. He asks a question about a victim and Mansell speaks up and supplies the necessary information. Joe is extremely frustrated and goes on a bit of a tear. It culminates with him picking up the empty pizza box at Mansell's desk and throwing it at him. The whole exchange is as follows:

Joe: What about the first victim, Harry Barnett, did he have a record? Miles: Well, we've got his prints on file. Something to do with a stolen car. Mansell: Yeah, it was a hit and run. Barnett was questioned but he reported his car stolen, so the case never came to court. I've got the file here somewhere. Joe: Why didn't I know about this? Mansell: Well, I've been concentrating on cracking the code. Joe: Well, get on to it, will you? It's important! Sort your desk out, it's a disgrace. Mansell: Yes sir. Joe: How can you think straight with all this chaos and crap everywhere? A young man's life hangs in the balance and all you can think about is which topping to have on your pizza! We gotta stay focused or otherwise we make mistakes!

And then he throws the pizza box at him. I'm not saying he's a bad person for it, I'm not even saying I wouldn't do the same thing (I absolutely would) but I AM saying that I won't ignore the fact that he does it. Reasons why this was called out by me in the tags to come towards the end when I tie all of this together. For now I just wanted to give the reference of when it happens.

Calling someone unintelligent. Does he say "Gosh (insert name), you are so unintelligent!" No. If he did we wouldnt be having this discussion and I wouldnt be writing the character because I like to have to dig not have things handed to me. There are multiple instances of him questioning someone and commenting things about their thinking that while they do not explicitly say you're an idiot... they do say, what the fuck are you thinking? I will concede that maybe 'unintelligent' was the wrong word to use in my description, but I was eating a chicken tender and typing one handed on my phone. I'm gonna skip to your arrogance thing because a lot of this ties into that so just .. bear with me for a second.

Arrogance. This is gonna be a big one. I'm gonna list some points and then cite the scenes (with timestamps and episodes) that sort of led to me forming this opinion. First, I think it should be acknowledged that arrogance and insecurity/self-doubt can often go hand in hand. In fact, arrogance is often used as a defense mechanism for those with low-self esteem who want to be accepted and given respect and believe they won't be if they aren't perfect.

There is a type of arrogance referred to as Belief Arrogance in some psychiatric journals online through various databases (such good reads always. Highly recommend). This is defined as follows: Belief arrogance comes before a person is truly proved as being right. They may even still believe they are right after they are proven wrong. It is often based either on excessive self - confidence or as a cover up for a lack of self-confidence.

Some general examples of arrogance that bring this to mind (we'll go episode by episode, shall we? and please note my internet is being slow so I'm using the scenes that immediately come to mind so that I can cite without losing my fucking mind. I can go way in depth later if you so wish. ):

Season 1, Episode 1:

We are introduced to Joe in what can be considered a state of arrogance for him. He is part of the metropolitan police social club for the high and mighty (its a thing, i researched it lmao) and as he makes his way to the commander, he is greeted by much older detectives and accompanied by mutterings (of a good kind). "It's joe! look its joe! hi joe!". Very Simba walking up pride rock of him tbh. He was groomed for this job. He is being pushed through the ranks (as my high school principal always said .. its not the grades you make, its the hands you shake) and the confidence and belief in himself that comes from that is part of it. This does not negate the fact that he practices things in front of the mirror etc, but those things also do not erase arrogance. He is bothered when he feels like he is being undermined (again, understandable) and he literally yells and asks if his team has heard of showers and tells them they smell. Thats judgmental, mate. And that comes from a place of arrogance.

Season 2, Episode 1.

This example begins in a diner where Joe is conversing with Ed after the bayonetting at the snooker hall at 25:47. It goes as follows:

Joe: Steven Dukes is part of a notorious crime family. He must have grown up idolizing the Krays and now he's using the legend to build his own empire. Ed: Does he wear Italian suits, a monogrammed shirt? Joe: Not when he was standing in a snooker hall, no. Ed: Ah, but don't you see? If he were the copycat, he would. The copycat went to great trouble to recreate the exact details of Frank Mitchell's death. Lenny Cobb was taken from Dartmoor Prison, just like Mitchell, and his injuries were, tragically, just like Mitchell's. Anyone who cares enough about those details would at the very least wear the suit. Joe: This is about power and fear, not fancy dress. Ed: But it's not about a pretense or an act. It's about being a Kray. I don't think it can be Dukes. Joe: Dukes has motive. He has opportunity, and he inspires enough fear to ensure silence. My instinct tells methat he's the one.

Same episode, 37:50.

Ed: It's not Dukes. It's not about power, or money or empire building. The motive is revenge. The victimes are being chosen from those that gave evidence against the Kray twins and they will be killed in the manner of their testimony. Joe: So who do you think will be next? Ed: Slasher Daneford. He testified about the death of Jack 'The Hat' Mcvitie, and he's like Mcvitie in many ways.I tried to warn him, but he's refused to run or seek protection. I am a real detective, in my heart, in my bones, and I do not need a warrant card to prove it! Joe: Thanks for the tip. We really appreciate it [as a side note here, please pay attention to the expression his face. It's one of indulgence more than it is an expression of genuine gratefulness) Ed: Don't just humor me, Joe! You must talk to Slaher. I can't have his death on my conscience.

As another side note in this episode, he judges Mansell the moment he walks through that door and continues to do so until the show ends. He actually makes a face that cracks me the fuck up lmao.

I'm skipping seasons because - again - slow internet and I'm using hulu for now until I get my laptop back but lets go to season 4 shall we. I love season 4. But Lucas, he's under a lot of stress you might say. You might argue 'but season 4 makes the worst of every character come out' .. and you're right! it does! which means these traits exist in Joe all along, they are just brought closer to the surface thanks to the joy that is frustration (which is something that happens to all of us).

Season 4, episode 1.

Timestamp 7:31. His first introduction to Louise Iver. He gets so upset. Why? Because she is pricking at a sore spot, she is prodding at an open wound that is already a detriment to his pride. Conversation is as follows:

Louise: Are you in the book? Joe: No, I'm not. Louise: Oh, I understand. [Joe sort of gives her a look here like, you understand what exactly? He's already in defense mode] Did he leave you out to spare your feelings? Joe: I beg your pardon? Louise: Never bringing in a killer alive is a terrible legacy. Joe: I'm not in the book because I'm a serving police officer. Louise: Oh, well, your memoirs will be a depressing read, won't they?

Timestamp, 40:00. The conversation with Wingfield.

Wingfield: Well, I didn't think I'd walk away. Joe: You had an alibi. Why were you spying on us? Wingfield: You have been infiltrated by an agent. Joe [scoffing]: I don't think we're that interesting. Wingfield: Any soul is of interest. And you have been chosen. Joe: By whom? Wingfield: I first heard of this agent when I was in captivity. It is a provocateur whose purpose is to incite others to commit evil acts.

[Joe literally scoffs again]

Wingfield: Markov. Calvi. The Krays. The Ripper. An immortal entity was behind them all. Planting the seeds, watching the horror grow. The provocateur had Zukanov killed. It was a setup to silence me. Now that has failed and another way will be found. Joe [scoffing. again]: you're mad. Wingfield: I wish I were. I wish I was wrong. Good luck.

Alright, let's talk about this. First of all, I would like to mention the definition of a scoff. Scoffing means contemptuously ridiculing or mocking someone or something. This man scoffs SO FUCKING MUCH at people. I cannot believe that someone would argue to blatantly MAKE FUN of someone's belief or opinion is not in itself, a display of arrogance at some level. What would you call that then? I will point out other examples of scoffing that I remember in the other episodes, but if you want episode by episode examples for every single one ... I'd be happy to provide.

Season 4, episode 2

I do also think that during the autopsy review of Dorothy's body, Joe hyper-fixates on the knowledge that the killer has gangrene. How long before he dies? When Llewelyn answers "He could die at anytime." Joe responds with, not if i get there first. It has stopped being about saving future victims and has started to become a race to simply catch a killer alive, saving his own ego. Arrogance, in a form.

Timestamp 25:40, when going through the woman who drowned's belongings (I cannot remember her name, rip lady I apologize).

Joe: It doesn't look like she had many friends, just work colleagues. It's quite sad, really.

Hell-to the fucking - o ??? Pot calling kettle black. Also it makes me sad and emo because its like .. hes also passing judgment on himself whether or not he realizes it and i want to hug him and call him my precious but this write up isnt about that so .. moving on.

Also, lets jump back to the temper I mentioned that is evidence by the pizza throwing incident .. in this episode (timestamp 30:30) during the fight with Mansell and Kent, Joe doesn't just stop the fight .. he throws Mansell against a table. Pushes with extreme force? Idk what you want to call it. He did NOT have to act that way. It is a combination of temper and, as I pointed out earlier, the fact that he has judged Mansell and considered him lacking/unprofessional/unworthy since day one.

The scene where Joe and Miles share a drink at the end of the episode and are later joined by ed. Timestamp is 40:40

Joe: Septicemia. Once the infection took hold, there was nothing the doctors could do. Miles: I'm sorry. Joe: Another killer escapes justice. Miles: I think you're being too hard on yourself. You saved Nick's life. Joe: You know, if you'd told me five hundred years ago that I was cursed, I would have believed you. Miles: Here. [pours another drink] Here's to bringing on in alive.

[skip ahead to Ed appearing at 42:40 after making a connection in Wingfield's notes down in the archive]

Miles: How can you hear a bottle open all the way down in the archive? Joe [laughing]: Come in. Ed: I'm so sorry to intrude, but I have a matter of some urgency to share with you. Joe: Have a drink. Ed: Oh...yes. After you hear this, we'll all need one. Um... As you know, Wingfield was trying to catch a provocateur. Joe [amused]: The instigator of all evil in Whitechapel. Ed: This is a visual record of all Wingfield's points of surveillance. Miles: It's a madman's map. Ed: Yes, so it would seem. This is us. Here. Joe: Well we know he was watching us from the hotel across the road. Ed: Did you know he was also watching John Washington's bakery? Fascinating, isn't it? Washington thought his life had been blighted by a witch. Wingfield was following an ancient evil that visited the bakery. Miles: They were after the same person. Ed: Wingfield seemed to think so. And he followed them to this building. [Joe's expression after this line when the camera cuts to him is literally like are yall fucking kidding me right now lmao?] Miles: Are you saying there's a demon in this station? Joe: Right. That's enough for one night. Miles: And you criticize me for not being open-minded. Joe: I'm sure there's a rational explanation for all the connections, we just need to find it. Miles: I hope we do

Again, his confidence in being RIGHT in his opinions and so easily dismissing those that he considers absolutely insane is illustrated so heavily in here. A pattern that repeats stronger and stronger until he signs his own demise in the final episode. Continuing on, however...

Season 4 episode 3

The fucking birthday scene. This is so hard to watch, jesus take the wheel from me. Granted, I fully believe they did not plan this little birthday get together well considering location and activity and obviously Joe is a little out of his depth and frustrated/annoyed by it. But this scene is saturated with arrogance.

At 00:58, we see Ed giving Joe a birthday present. Joe looks so excited at the prospect. He's smiling, he's there for it mate. Look at his fucking face when he opens it. I have seen my nephew be more gracious than that when he was given socks on his 6th birthday. Anyways, short recap:

Ed: Happy birthday, Joe. It's not much, but ... it's a hagstone. It's said to protect the wearer against witchcraft and evil charms. Thought it mgiht bring a smile to your face. Obviously not.

It is SO HARD for me to watch this because Joe is absolutely acting like a spoiled little bitch. He makes a face so obvious that Ed picks up on it and he apologizes and looks both embarrassed and crestfallen. It's awful. Again, that's arrogance. Sorry, anon.

Timestamp 5:38, in the museum when they are discussing the skinned face. He is rude as fuck.

Joe: Get it checked for prints. [walks off] Llewelyn: Well someone's forgotten their pleases and thank yous.

Timestamp 7:24, Joe visits Ed in the archives looking for historical precedents to murders involving flaying. Ed gets a bit excited sharing a particular story and Joe brusquely interrupts him with a very irritated How does this help us? Ed, I just need the information, not the conjecture. Actual conversation below, because there are quite a few other rude interactions in this scene.

Joe: What've you got for me? Ed: I was just looking at this. The Flaying of Marsyas by Titian. Marsyas was a satyr, half man, half goat. He was skinned alive for daring to challenge Apollo to a musical duel. It was on loan at the National Gallery a few years ago but Mother wasn't keen. Joe: How does this help us? Ed: Well, your body was found in an art gallery, was it not? The killer could be recreating scenes from all the Grand Masters. Joe: Ed, I just need the information, not the conjecture. Ed: Of course. Well, historically flaying was a means of punishment or torture. A number of Chinese emperors of the Ming Dynasty liked to cut the flesh from their enemies' faces. In fact, Lingchi, the so called death of a thousand cuts, wasn't abolished in China as a form of execution until 1905. Joe: What did they do with the skin? Ed: It depends. The ancient Assyrians would flay their enemies alive and then nail the skin to the city walls. A warning to others not to step out of line. Oh, look, the molds got in here. Now, this is ridiculous. Joe: Have you got anything I can take away with me? Anything I can study? Ed: We're talking ancient history here, Joe. I'm not going to find it in the Metropolitan Police Archive. Joe: Well, I can't go back upstairs with paintings by Titian and stories from Ancient Assyria. That's not what I pay you for.

Timestamp 10:10, Joe makes the assumption that HE is better suited for interviewing what they believe is Sebastian Marlowe's assistance. He tells Miles he needs the interview to go well and doesnt want any belligerence, hinting that he believes Miles would only get in the way. This comes to bite him in the ass when he later finds out that Miles has connections in the art world and would have been able to find out much more than he did. That's a judgment. Again, arrogance.

During the actual interview scene with her, the following exchange happens and I laugh every time.

Joe: Some people wouldn't call it art. Assistant: Some people only look skin deep.

This makes me laugh because of the skin deep pun but also because Joe is clearly meant to be included in the some people. She picks up on the arrogance too. Also he stares at her birthmark and that gets me everytime also. Not in a funny way but a .. bro are you serious way.

Season 4 episode 4

There's the pizza scene mentioned above, obviously. But before that, there is the scene where Miles and Joe are leaving the dentist office. The important bit begins at timestamp 13:00.

Joe: In a missing persons case, the first twenty four hours are the only twenty four hours. Miles: What? You think I don't know that? ... You want me to call in Whacky Jackie? Joe: Who? Miles: Jackie Brierley. She's a last resort. Joe: Who's Jackie Brierley? Miles: She helped us out on a missing child case back in the nineties. She said she saw a vision of running water, led us down to the Lee Valley Resevoir and the divers found the body in ten minutes. Joe: She's a medium? Miles: Yeah. We used her once or twice back in the day. She's not always right, but when you've got no leads ... What are you looking at me like that for? Joe: Well, I can't believe you'd be so gullible. Miles: Well, I've learned to keep an open mind. Joe: A medium??Miles: Well, she found the girl. Joe: So? It was a lucky guess. Miles: Well, we could do with a bit of luck right now. Do you want me to call her or not? Joe: No!! We're detectives. We use police work. Anything else would just be weakness of character.

In case you're wanting to dismiss this whole thing .. let's re read it and remember that Miles states he and his team HAD USED HER a few times. He, Miles, Joe's colleague and one of the closest things to a friend that he's got, has ADMITTED using this woman .. and Joe ridicules him for it. This is arrogance, but it also ties into my 'unintelligent' comment in the tags. Telling someone theyre gullible is the same as saying they aren't intelligent enough to resist falling for something meant to dupe them. Worse than that though, is that Joe is offhandedly insulting the fuck out of Miles with the weakness of character comment, considering Miles has admitted (ten seconds ago, Joe!! come on!!) that he had done the thing Joe is so adamantly against. That's arrogance, buddy. Miles is actually offended. You can tell by his expression and the way that he mutters to himself. Honestly, I would be too.

The scene with Miles in the bathroom when Joe goes into detail about the death of this father (I'm having to bite my tongue because there are so many GOOD things I want to say about this scene and again I want to hug him) also alludes to arrogance in order to cover self-consciousness. Joe states that as a child, he was embarrassed by his mother's actions and started taking an extreme interest in details because he didn't want others to see how much their lives had fallen apart. This is pride. At ten years old, he had wounded pride.

Okay, this is a big one. It might seem like a stretch. Just bear with me. Timestamp, 43:43. It's the scene in the station chapel towards the end of the episode, involving the conversation between Miles and Joe.

Miles: I was just looking up that Vengeance is mine quote. If your enemy is hungry, feed him. If he is thristy, give him a drink. For in so doing, you will heap coals of fire upon his head. Do not be overcome by evil. But overcome evil with good.Joe: If only it was that easy. Do you believe in all of that? Miles: What? Joe: The ... Afterlife. Miles: Well, I was brought up Catholic, I have to hedge my bets. Joe: Is that why you consulted a psychic? Miles: No, the family asked for her. What's all this about? We caught the guy, the case is closed. Joe: No. we didn't catch him. He chose to die. He taunted me.

Alright so. Were do I begin with this one. First of all, the verse that Miles reads aloud would actually be a fantastic answer to most of Joe's issues during this season (and throughout the show), if only he would give it the time of day. But he doesn't. In fact, though he does listen while Miles read it aloud, he also makes his usual expressions and immediately dismisses it by asking Miles if he believes in such a thing. We already know he (Joe) doesn't. His pride has been pricked. I've already mentioned the illustrations given throughout other episodes, but it is growing more and more apparent. This verse is TELLING HIM he should do the opposite. Rather than being overcome by evil (aka, being driven to the more baser parts of his personality, the more negative traits) he should be approaching the situation with mercy and grace towards himself. Instead, he is angry. He is frustrated. He is upset by the fact that he feels (rightly so) taunted. Imagine you're 6'8. Weird, I know. But hang on. So you're 6'8 and you're in a cafe somewhere, waiting on a coffee. A person walks in and says 'wow, you're so short." You would go about your day (most would at least, I think) because you know they're wrong. They are not attacking an insecurity. Youre not arrogant, youre just confident in the fact that you're fucking 6'8 and that isnt short. However, when attacked or wronged in some way in regards to something that does bother us (something we are already insecure about perhaps), arrogance does come into play when we get offended. How dare they say that! How dare they think it! You're furious! Joe is reacting the same way. His ego is being attacked.

Season 4, Episodes 5 and 6.

I'm actually wrapping this up really quick because I could go on for fucking AGES about these two episodes and I probably will one day, but the last 3 hours of putting this together is starting to get to me and todays another not feeling so great today. Joe's arrogance comes home to roost in these episodes. He is so ashamed of meeting with Jackie, he double and triple checks that they are doing so in secret. He makes it VERY CLEAR during their conversation that he thinks shes a fucking hoax. He refuses to read the letter given to him through Miles that supposedly contains a message from his father. What would it have cost him to open the letter? It doesnt mean anything to open something. But to Joe it did. To Joe, opening that letter, would be like saying there might be some shred of truth to what Jackie says and what she is and his ARROGANCE does not allow for that. He was too arrogant in his belief of being correct to take ten seconds to do something that would have changed the whole plot of the show. Whitechapel is about sin coming home to roost. Arrogance/Pride in the case of Joe is a great example of that. If you're a true fan, I honestly believe you know this and understand the implications.

Don't put them all in the same van.

HE fucked himself over. His inability to be open minded because he was to arrogant to admit that there might be a slight, SLIGHT chance or at least a small miniscule worth in opening a letter and reading a note that would be absolutely harmless at its worst .. dug his own grave. And that's really what it comes down to.

#headcanon. it's not a disability. it's a gift.#whitechapel itv #hopefully the readmore works ajhdfjfjhf #anyways. this was probably supposed to be a combative ask and i didnt take it that way at all #so i'm sorry if it was my buddy.#i can gather from the punctuation and the fact that you said 'nah you dont understand him at all based on your tags' that it was #probably meant negatively??? idk though. I'm not really offended by differences of opinion.#If anything - I love constructive conflict because I think it helps both parties grow in their opinions.#You dont have to walk away from a disagreement suddenly on the same page .. but I do believe in respecting other opinions #when they are thought out and the other person is willing to rationally explain their thought patterns #so by all means - please feel free always to jump in for some discourse! I'm here for it.#If everyone thought the same thing the world would be so damn boring.#and you never know what I (or you. or even someone who stumbles across it) might learn #sorry for the fandom tag but idk who sent this and if they'd even check to see if i replied #so i'm making it easy #whoever you were - i love you for loving joe enough to send a stranger an ask to defend him #100% serious.#I'm so embarrassed to admit this but thanks to my illness I have no life whatsoever for the first time and #I literally watch this show for 7-8 hours a day.#And then when I hit the end of season 4... I restart.#Immediately.#It is ALWAYS on in the background and I can hear it even if I'm not actively watching it.#I swear to you that I do actually have references for every single thing I say on this blog. even when i just spout idiot stuff out

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worldofgoo · 1 year

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yayayay yippee (≧◡≦) i love how vibrant & lively your art is, i think my fav pieces are Horse Surgery & hanyuu (even tho i have no idea who that is) but that one wip with the rainbow is also v ery special 2me because it reminds me of my fav kind of weather ^_^ generic Which Program Do You Use question & also which programs have you tried so far? which one would you recommend for someone whose only experience so far wiht digital art has been scribbling in ms paint -_-? on topic, what do you draw with (mouse, phone, drawing tablet, ??) & was it easy for you to get used to digital art? i always get overwhelmed by the amound of different functions available so im not sure where to even start, any advice? which physical art forms do you like / would you like to learn (anything at all, i personally have been getting into air dry clay... well actually ive been using my sisters playdoh but maybe ill purchase smthn fancier :3) & final question how do you come up with poses to draw? your characters (+creatures) seem very animated and i really like that :)

HI okay i guess ill answer these in a list. actually will put it under the cut since i ended up saying a lot (and dw i enjoy being able to talk a lot so thank you!)

-THANK YOU im glad some of my more recent works (in my more current style) are appealing 2 people! like i wanna draw my own way even though i think it gets less notes... the higurashi fanarts (hanyuu and shion) r very memorable pieces to me because its when i started doing the loose sketches with the thin lines and block colors and thats the direction i reallyreally wanted to take my style in. also the rainbow is rian my friend rian

-i draw in paint tool sai! the only program i used before that was sketchbook pro, which i didnt like because the brushes were kind of... blurry/smudgy? sai allows you to zoom in and draw pixel by pixel which is something i like, and i like the way it does its blending. its also just easier for me to understand. i didnt pay for it i think i found some deviantart page that had the link, id have to find it again

-i draw with a wacom intuos tablet! its lasted me... almost 10 years now. ive heard newer ones are poorer quality in terms of at least the nibs needing to be replaced constantly, so idk what the most recommended tablet these days is. ive drawn with my mouse and tbh it caused awful hand pain so i would not recommend this. i draw on my phone with my finger sometimes but i find doing it on my laptop easier, however it is doable once you get used to it

-the way i got into digital art... well. i still have an archive of my earliest art if you wanna see! i was 14 n just drew random shit, often lining over doodles i did on paper and coloring them in. i think esp if youre overwhelmed start with making like throwaway experimental pieces, scribble around, doodle stupid things and color them in with different brushes and see what you enjoy. and then you can just keep the files to yourself if they dont look too good or maybe itll look interesting, it depends i guess haha. the other thing that ive always found helped me was telling myself id draw every day even if it was a little scribble or the tiniest amount of work on a wip bc getting a habit going helped my art a Lot beause it helped me spend more time thinking n focusing on it

more specific advice for sai that i found useful- using clipping groups & the preserve opacity functions are both lifesavers in terms of not spending so much time trying to color in the lines. if you color in a base layer you can just put everything above it as a clipping group and just not worry about it anymore. i also really like using the filters (like multiply) to mess around with the colors a drawing has, though sometimes its more effective to just select a layer/individual color and fuck with the hue/saturation/etc until it looks good. when i color, esp when its not turning out how i wanted to, i rely on shifting colors A LOT. n also mixing colors together using a blending brush and then colorpicking the intermediate color. very useful

-for the most part i stick to uncolored pencil doodles on like, notebook paper (even though i have some fancy supplies X[ one day) but i LOVE making things with clay, wish it was more accessible to do at home. i have a handful of clay animal statues and stuff that i made in my ceramics class in high school. would looove to do more

-because my poses tend to be very pushed/cartoony using references of real people isnt always useful (though obv knowing the basics of anatomy always helps) so in those cases ill use other cartoony art i like as inspiration, i try to see what i like about their poses nd emulate that with my own. sometimes when im struggling ill just do a bunch of studies where i copy art i like to try to get a feel for what im missing. mostly ive realized i like when the pose conveys some level of like, volume and taking up a 3D space (which im still definitely not a master of but bullshitting it can be fun). and i also like to have a balance of curved and angular shapes. sometimes i try to just do a pose that conveys a specific emotion or i just make shit up lol

alsooooo i cant reccomend aimless doodling enough! just random shapes, turning the random shapes into creatures, trying and trying and trying different ways to draw something until you like it, i feel like the things my hand makes when i shut my brain off and just scribble can inspire me as well, and i try to emulate whatever i made by chance while doodling. and if your doodles turn out better in traditional i tend to consider using a photo of a drawing as a way to skip the "preliminary sketch" phase nd drawing a rough sketch over that which i then use for my drawing (or just directly color since i draw very fast/lazy...)

#long answer but i wanted to give good answers to everything!!!#thank you again!!!#and i hope i helped #yayyy talking about art #ask

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feua-old · 5 years

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@delicatelyshycollection I love kids!! I'm really good with them too, so I'm like the go to babysitter

@nouveausims no u!!!!

@stambysims I just spent 3 hours on homework and I have 4 tests tomorrow and a presentation,,, love that for me

@frogb0ys um ilysm I hope you get twice as much ok gn bby

#ask #delicatelyshycollection #nouveausims #stambysims #frogb0ys #ily all!!!#i tried my best to make a cool banner but i dont think it worked very well sjddkdhsj oh well #also ill put these under a cut when i get to my laptop

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dreamrecorder · 3 years

Text

Three - Family in the Inn

Zhongli witnesses the love Xiao deserves.

Two

A bit heavy at the end- i teared up at some point ksks ill add the cut thingy when get my laptop

Starting from the earliest memory your mind can remember, you've already heard stories of the god that ruled over your home land. From your mother, your father, from the merchants and adventurers resting within the inn. You often heard how the Geo Archon would always fly above the lands, overseeing the safety of Liyue- in the form of a great and majestic serpentine dragon. To protect the land, the Archon will not hesitate to strike down his foes with his spears made of stone! Spears that were huge as mountains and can shake the very core of the earth! A fierce god he is, but to his people, the Archon is just and kind. For he has guided Liyue for a thousand years even before Liyue was founded.

Those stories always left you in awe, your mind conjuring up imaginations of a mighty dragon soaring up high in the sky!

"Bai, I can't sleep…" You whined loudly to your black cat with gold eyes and a white diamond spot on its forehead. But alas, the cat can't understand you, simply giving you a somewhat dismissive meow. You puted at its direction. It was always like this if your brother wasn't able to tuck you to bed. Without his voice lulling you to sleep, right now you're vibrating energy.

"I wanna play…" You mumbled but then an idea popped up. With some effort, you hopped off your bed and went to the door. A bit of a struggle because of your height, but you manage to reach the doorknob and get out of your bedroom to the lobby. Bai was following close by.

With quiet footsteps, you went to the balcony and called in a whisper of excited glee-

"Thousand Winds?"

Just by those two words alone, the breeze picked up and your ears were then filled by the joyful voices of the wind. To emphasize that happiness, you were carefully lifted up from the ground and twirled you a bit, leaving you in a fit of giggles.

When the wind calmed down, they asked, The Little Wind calls! What is it do you want little kin?

"I wanna play!"

And play they did without a care for the world. Usually these wind spirits were careful when their brother Demon Wind is around- but with him gone for now, these spirits have different ideas. Little Wind do you want to fly like us?

You didn't even miss a second to say yes. After all, you've always dreamed of flying! Just like the stories you heard about your Archon flying up high in the sky!

!!!

"If I can fly, I might get to see Rex Lapis! Please please pleaaaase Thousand Winds, I wanna fly!"

The wind spirits cheered in delight, their whispers growing louder by the second. The breeze grew stronger and stronger around you and soon enough you were lifted off the ground as anemogranas surrounded you. You'll get to fly! How exciting!

At that age, you were unaware of the dangers that lie ahead- all too buried in that naivety and innocence that children possess.

Rather than flying- it was more like gliding. Of course the wind spirits had some sense not to put you in harm's way! Flying requires some force to make you go higher- as for gliding, a gentle breeze simply does the trick.

It was a slow descent and you were amazed all throughout! You could see the entire Dihua Marsh along the ruins that littered around! You were amazed how the stars and the moon seemed brighter and closer now that you're up in the sky! The feeling of the rushing wind on your skin! It was cold but you didn't care!

Every now and then, the spirits would suddenly nudge you up higher, rewarding them with your joyous scream and laughter.

You landed softly at the concrete ground, near a statue. Curious, you noted that the statue was of a man sitting on a throne. This was the first time you've seen this statue but you could feel something from it. Geo? And the statue's hooded eyes, you felt like you were being watched through them.

This, Little Wind, is the statue of the Geo Archon.

The wind whispered with respect but you- you were puzzled.

"I thought the Geo Archon is a dragon? Can he turn into a human, like me?"

You could hear the wind laugh gently, the breeze ruffling your hair. Suddenly, the wind sounded older, wiser. A story for another time, little one. It's about time you went back home.

Again you whined, but the spirits promised you flight and that's all what you needed to be convinced. The spirits and the anemogranas alike were about to lift you- but a voice stopped your tracks.

"Yo kid! You seem lost!" The voice was heavy and gruff.

You turned around to the voice's direction and you were greeted by a burly man who wore a staw hat and some kind of black cloth wrapped around his neck.

"I'm not lost, sir." You replied politely, slowly taking a step back. You noticed how the air stilled. Tense. But of course, the man is not convinced. Seeing how he kept walking to you, you were starting to become scared, but you remembered the words from your brother, Always keep calm-

"Are ya sure, kid? We're kinda in the middle of nowhere. No houses and all that. How 'bout I help you get home?" The man offered cheerily. The forced kind with another sure step towards you. But that was what doomed him, the winds were quick to blow him away and you were surprised!

It wasn't a big distance, and the man was quick to recover. Instead of a cheery smile on his face, it was of anger and that was when you became really scared. "You!" He barked as he walked to you again with equally angry steps. "You're coming with me brat!"

If you find yourself in danger- don't hesitate to call my na-

"That's enough." A man's voice spoke- clear and commanding. The man stood next to you as he landed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. It was brief moment, but he also made sure to give you a quick gentle smile your way. You… you trusted this man with amber eyes.

"Who the hell are you?! I've got no business with you!"

"And you also have no business with this child for I am her guardian." The man replied smoothly as he simply stood his ground with you, despite the other now seemingly ready for a fight. Feeling the anger, you tightly clung onto the newcomer's coat and hid behind him. On his back, you were met by a Geo Vision.

"Like I'd believe you! Just swooping in and play hero huh rich guy!"

The Geo user sighed, and the next thing you knew, the man summoned a spear out of thin air! "I have no intentions of fighting you. But I promise you- You will suffer the wrath of the rock should you choose to continue this behavior."

His voice was light, but you noticed the silent message under his tone. The would-be kidnapper shivered at the amber gaze and decided, that it was wise to back off- Not without leaving a few curses that is.

"He's gone now." The man spoke gently as hebturned around to look at you. Oh how his heart softened, seeing your frightened look and teary eyes.

"You're safe, I promise you. My name is Zhongli."

Zhongli? You heard this name somehwere, but you couldn't pin point where or when… still a bit shaken up from whay happened. Remember, Little Wind. Zhongli was mentioned in passing a few times by your brother. Perhaps this is the very same Zhongli your brother speak of…

"Umm…" Your voice squeaked, "Do you.. do you know my brother?"

At that question, Zhongli confirmed that you are the rumored little sibling of Xiao. It would have been delightful to meet you on different circumstances, but he was glad nonetheless to save you from the previous situation.

"May I know the name of your brother, little miss/sir?"

"His name is Xiao." You replied and Zhongli noticed a bit of happiness in your voice.

"I do know you brother, quite the stern one, too. And he will be stern with you if he learns what happened here and you going out during the night. Does he know that you're out right now?"

With that question, you finally realized the gravity of the situation. You left during the dead of the night- without permission whatsoever! Oh no, I'm in big trouble… What if you made them worry? You were so far away from home! All these thoughts made you start tearing up again and Zhongli was quick to notice. He was about to speak up and console the little one when a gush of air stopped him. And that very same gush of air made you tear up some more and clutched on Zhongli's coat.

"Name, where have you been?" Xiao's voice was calm- but he's not the perfect brother nor human. There was something in his tone that suggested he was clearly not pleased about the situation. You could feel his gaze boring onto your back.

With a bit of coaxing from Zhongli, you faced you brother. "I-I'm s-sorry, gēgē…" Your voice cracked as tears started to blur your eyes. But your brother was not yet done.

"Name, do you have any idea how worried our mother was when she found out you were out of bed and could not find you anywhere in the inn?"

The thought of your mother searching all over you made you tears form more. "I- I do."

"Do you really?"

It was a sharp question without even missing a bit, and that was the starting point for you and for him. Even Xiao winced at his own words, he swore he'll have to make it up to you later- but for now you had to understand. He remembered the panicked face your mother wore with tears threatening to fall. He remembered her panicked voice when she called for him. He remembered the worry he felt and the dip in his stomach when she said you were missing.

"I-I'm so sorry, gēgē. I-I was just p-playing. I d-didn't want you and mama t-to worry…" You couldn't meet his eyes.

Worry?

"Just. Playing? Name, you left home in the middle of the night- when dangers are high- just to play! Name, you could have gotten hurt! We were not just worried, Name- we were scared that something might have happened to you!"

Every word he spoke- his voice rose higher- not being able to contain the pits of his negative thoughts. Every word- it was like a stab to his heart. But he had to be firm.

"I will ask you again, Name. Do you really understand what you did and their consequences?"

And thay was the breaking point and the night was filled by you whimpers, your wales, and your aplogies. Your shoulders began to shake and tears flowed freely and lungs struggling for breath. "I-I'm sorry, gēgē- I-I shouldn't h-have left h-home! Pleas-se d-dont stay m-mad at me… I p-promise i-it-t won't happen aga-ain- I-I'm s-sorry p-please don't h-hat-te m-me.

You kept going with your rambles and your tears. And for every whimper you released, Xiao was close to breaking too. The brother lost count many times you've repeated your mantras- but he decided- I can't do this anymore. Not with you crying breathless. He'll talk to you about this when everything's calm- his emotions and yours.

With swift steps and sure movements, Xiao pulled you into a hug and your cries grew louder. "Just don't do that ever again, okay.." He said gently but voice cracking, leaving a kiss on your forehead as you nodded readily. Once your cries have calmed down, Xiao carried you to his arms followed hy him wiping away your tears.

"Name."

"Y-yes?"

Your eyes met, and the anger was no longer there, but instead worry and love.

"I love you."

You could feel his genuinity. The words brought a smile to your face, albeit small. "I love you, too, gēgē."

Xiao smiled and left another kiss on your nose. "Sleep now. You had a long night and way past your bed time."

You didn't even protest, you were out like a light bulb as you comfortably laid you head on his shoulder and closed your eyes- not missing the golden dragon floating behind the man who saved you.

The walk home was silent. A teleport would be quicker, but Xiao didn't want to disturb your sleep. It was an awkward walk to say the least. Him carrying his sibling, along with the last of his tears stinging his red eyes, all while his master accompanied them home.

But Zhongli- Zhongli was amused. Amused with the blooming dynamic siblinghood between you and Xiao. But he decided to hold his tongue. He knew Xiao was still wrapping his head around what had transpired. Still he does leave a praise to reassure Xiao that everything will be fine.

"You're the best brother your little sibling could ever ask for, Xiao. Remember that."

A/N: Welp ksks lots of loose ends if you squint ksks- like example the tone of the wind spirits, the cat and such

Taglist: @hanniejji @suckerforgenshinboys @arson-frog-art @anime-read-write-repeat @kryzi @riiasekai @sweetstrawberrybabe

#Family in the Inn #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #xiao #genshin xiao #xiao genshin #zhongli #zhongli genshin #genshin zhongli #xiao x reader

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whatareyousearchingfordean · 3 years

Text

A Period Drama

Summary: When that time of the month hits, Y/n wants nothing more than to curl up in bed and forget about the world. Lucky for her, Dean has other plans.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2.1K+

Warnings: Language, discussion of menstrual cycle

Author’s Note: I guess I'm emotional this cycle, who knew? Anyway, I wrote this because I wanted to die the other day, and imagining Dean's cuddles was the only way for me to get through it. This is a work of self-indulgence and therefore the Reader is a little less non-descript than I usually try to write, but that's what these things are for! Hope this helps my fellow menstruating people lie it did me xoxo Alex

Check out Alexandra’s Library for more works by yours truly!

A nagging sensation tugged on her strings of consciousness, bringing the sleeping huntress back to the world of the living. Her mind fought against waking, knowing not nearly enough time had passed since she had retreated to her room the previous evening. As the ache deep in her abdomen became more obvious, she stopped fighting and opened her eyes to the darkness of her room.

“Fuck,” she groaned as she tossed the covers from her body, instantly missing the heat they provided in the recess of the bunker. Y/n rolled from the bed and stood, the action occurring too quickly and the huntress felt the familiar rush between her legs. She cursed herself as she bounded off to the bathroom on the opposite end of the hallway. The socks on her feet muffled her hurried steps as she passed the boys’ rooms.

Once inside, she went straight for the showers and turned the hot water all the way up. Steam enveloped the space as she stripped her soiled panties and old t-shirt from her body. She let the bathroom turn into a makeshift sauna as she rinsed the blood from her undergarments before finally stepping into the boiling shower.

It was unclear how long she stood under the water, searing her flesh and scrubbing away the metaphorical grime, all she knew was the relentless heat was managing to ease the ache from her angry uterus. The tentative knock on the bathroom door snapped her back from the silent reverie she had been indulging in, and Y/n noted how the water had gone almost cold. It was likely she had been in there long enough for Sam to have taken his morning run and if her own body wasn’t attacking itself, she might have felt guilty about using up all the bunker’s hot water.

When she walked out in just a towel, her dirty pajamas rolled into a ball in her arms, she was met with a confused younger Winchester. All she could mutter was a weak ‘sorry’ before she breezed past him and back to her room. The huntress wrapped herself into a pair of sweats and a clean tee, braided her hair out of her face, swallowed a few pain killers, and crawled back under her covers. She thanked whatever higher power had made sure they were hunt-free for the foreseeable future so she could spend the day curled up in a ball. The pills kicked in quick enough to allow her to easily slip back into a blissful sleep.

****

It was nearing one in the afternoon when Dean made his way back inside the bunker, his hands covered in grease and oil from his work tuning up the Impala. He was wiping his hands on an equally dirty towel as he walked into the kitchen to find his little brother making himself a lunch.

“Please tell me that is not your veggie bacon?” Dean wrinkled his nose as he watched Sam putting together a BLT, the various ingredients strewn about the island.

“Fine, then I won’t tell you,” Sam didn’t bother to look up from his task to answer his brother. The look of disgust only depended on Dean’s face as he moved around his sibling to wash his hands in the sink.

The older hunter glanced over his shoulder as the sound of shuffling footsteps grew louder, his gaze landing on a disheveled Y/n. The sweats that hung from her body were wrinkled and she had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. There were lines across the left side of her face, indicating she had been sleeping recently. Worry instantly flooded his system as it was unlike their hunting partner to sleep this late unless she was ill.

“Sam, what did you do with my heating pad?” her voice was coarse as she didn’t even bother with pleasantries. No ‘hello’, no ‘ how are you’, just straight to whatever business she had in with the younger Winchester.

“Uh, I’m pretty sure it’s in the linen closet in the bathroom?” Sam answered, completely unperturbed by her callousness.

“So you put my heating pad in the bathroom,” Y/n rolled her eyes and Sam could only offer her a bewildered nod. “What is with you guys and not being able to put shit back where you found it?” The huntress turned on her heel, not waiting for a response before heading to retrieve the item she was seeking.

Sam looked over his shoulder at his older brother, his brows knit together in the middle of his forehead. “What the hell was that?”

“What’s the one thing Y/n uses her heating pad for?” Dean’s lips cured up on one side as he watched the look of realization flash across his brother’s features. The oldest Winchester dried his hands before peeking in the fridge and a few cupboards. “Looks like she could use a supply run. You need anything?”

“Nah, I’m just going to retreat to my room and pretend like I don’t exist for the rest of the day,” Sam picked up the plate that held his lunch and scurried off, leaving a chuckling Dean behind.

****

The only light filling her room came from the laptop that was perched in her lap, playing some television show she had stopped paying attention to a while ago, and the filtered light from the hall through the slats in her door. The huntress was still curled into a ball under her covers, attempting to use what little bit of heat from her computer she could muster as she had been unsuccessful in located her heating pad. She felt bad for ripping into Sam about it, but the truth was he had misplaced her belongings, something that she found happened often around the Winchesters, and she was over it today. Pain tended to make her grumpy, as it did most people, and she wasn’t going to apologize for being pissed at their carelessness.

A soft rapping against her door had her pausing the show as she shoved the device aside. The guest didn’t wait for a response before they pushed the door open, bringing with them a flood of light. Y/n cringed at the sudden change, hiding her face behind her hand.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Dean’s familiar chuckle sounded before the click of the latch indicated he had closed the door behind him. “I come bearing gifts.”

“What?” she was confused by his words as she dropped her hand and allowed her eyes to adjust back to the relative darkness.

“Your water bottle, half ice, half water,” he set the green canteen on her bedside table. “The heating pad Sammy somehow managed to lose behind the washing machine,” Dean handed her the light green pad folded neatly with the cord sitting on top. Y/n sighed a breath of relief as the eldest Winchester continued. “And a sharable size bag of dark chocolate peanut M&M’s.”

“Dean,” Y/n caught the purple bag as he tossed it her way, biting back a gleeful moan. “I fucking love you.” She unceremoniously tore into the bag and popped a couple of the chocolate candies into her mouth, missing the rush of blood on the Winchester’s cheeks.

“And finally,” he mimicked a drum roll with his mouth and procured a box from his arms, placing it on her bedside table. The woman frowned, unable to make out the object at first in the darkness.

“You bought me tampons? How,” she trailed off, not only awestruck by the hunter’s gesture but amazed at his attention to detail as she read the label.

“There is only one thing you need your heating pad for,” he remarked as he took the referenced object back to plug it into an outlet for her. “Also, you never snap at Sammy.”

“But how did you know what kind to buy?”

“Kind of hard not to when you have a box of them stashed away in Baby’s trunk,” Dean countered as he perched himself on the edge of her bed.

“Hey, those are for emergencies. Besides, I’m sure Baby understands.”

“I’m sure she does.”

Y/n chewed on the inside of her cheek as she fiddled with the bag of candy in her lap, the kindness shown by Dean throwing her off. She offered the open bag to her hunting partner, who snatched a handful for himself with a grin.

“Thank you, Dean, seriously. This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me,” her voice was low as the admittance slipped past her lips. “Want to watch some Scooby-Doo with me? You know, if you aren’t busy or anything?”

“I’d love to, sweetheart,” Dean winked at her, that shit-eating grin never leaving his face even as he stood and shucked off his jacket and boots so he could climb into the bed next to her. “Who could pass up Daphne?”

The huntress sat back against the headboard with a roll of her eyes and switched the streaming show on her laptop before unfolding her already warmed heating pad and laid it across her lower abdomen. She moved the laptop at the end of the bed so they could both see it and set the bag of M&M’s between her and Dean to share.

The two settled into the cartoon, laughing in unison at the ridiculous parts and commenting on how the Scooby gang couldn’t have handled that monster had it been real. Three episodes passed by before a shredding cramp ripped through her stomach, the shock of it enough that she was unable to hide the groan as she had been so far.

“You okay?” Dean shifted in his spot next to her, his head turning from the kids’ show to his friend beside him.

“No, I’m not okay. It feels like my internal organs are attempting to exit my body,” she snapped, instantly regretting it when Dean subtly recoiled. “Shit, I’m sorry. I--I didn’t mean…” Y/n was cut off as the pain returned just as intense as it had been moments ago, causing her to roll onto her side and into a ball, clutching the heat of the pad against her body like a lifeline.

“Alright,” Dean huffed before moving the candy and laptop from the bed. Y/n could hear the hunter shift behind her, but her eyes were clamped shut as she tried to breathe through the pain like she was experiencing the contractions of labor of something. She felt the hard lines of his body lock around the curves of her own and his arm snake around her abdomen. His hand rested over hers as he pulled her tight against him, putting more pressure than she had been able to muster against her lower belly. “I’ve got you.”

The heat of his body on one side and the pad against her stomach, combined with the force he was exerting on her uterus, finally allowed her to relax fully for the first time since she had awoken that morning. She never wanted to leave this moment, utterly content in the peace that his presence in her bed brought her. The idea scared her a little, but she figured that was a problem for another day. Now she chose to just live in this moment for as long as he would let her.

“Why?” she muttered into the dark space after she was sure he had fallen asleep as his grip had relented a touch and his breathing evened out, hoping he wouldn’t answer but knowing she had to ask.

“Cause I wanted to,” his voice was gruff, indicating he had probably been on the cusp of falling asleep when she spoke up. “I hate seeing you like this. Figured it was the least I could do.”

“Dean Winchester, are you going soft on me?” she quirked up one corner of her lips, unable to fight the giddiness his words instilled in her chest.

“Sweetheart, there is nothing soft about me when I’m around you,” he chuckled, earning himself an elbow to the gut. He grunted and the two of them fell into a fit of laughter.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.” The hunter was ready for her arm this time, his hand moving to wrap around her forearm and pull it into him so as to trap her even tighter than before in his embrace. Y/n struggled against his hold, giggling like an idiot as the two wrestled in the bed a moment before she relented that he was much stronger than she.

“Honestly,” Dean placed a gentle kiss to her shoulder once she had settled, only encouraging her to melt further into his arms. “I’d do anything to make you smile, Y/n.”

“Well, then mission accomplished, Winchester,” she turned her head to flash him a genuine smile to which he reciprocated before planting his pillow-soft lips against hers.

P.S. I didn't even try on this title because this is just a little therapy piece and therefore no one should judge me.

Forevers: @22sarah08 @440mxs-wife @akshi8278 @anathewierdo @asgoodasdancingqueen @atc74 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @briagallen @callmekda @dawnie1988 @deandreamernp @deangirl93 @deanwanddamons @ellewritesfix05 @emoryhemsworth @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @janicho88 @jbsgirl4ever11 @jensengirl83 @lunarmoon8 @lyarr24 @mishacollins4evah @miss-nerd95 @mrsjenniferwinchester @msmarvelouswinchester @polina-93 @sleepylunarwolf @squirrelnotsam @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan @suckmyapplejacks @supraveng @tatted-trina6 @thoughts-and-funnies @traceyaudette @tranquility-or-chaos @waywardbeanie @winchest09

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fic #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fic #spn fanfic #spn fic #alex writes #mine #a period drama

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bex-la-get · 3 years

Text

Take Care of You (Ethan x f!MC)

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Natalie Cusack

Special Appearance: Tobias Carrick

Word count: 2175

Summary: When Ethan falls sick, Nat steps in to take care of him.

Rating: T

Author’s Note: Hi, hello. It’s been a crappy week and I’m emotionally/physically exhausted. So here’s some fluff to counter the bad week. This is unedited, so please forgive any mistakes. Hope you like it. 💙

Ethan never got sick. Ever. Despite working in a hospital, surrounded by sick people on a daily basis, Ethan always managed to stay as healthy as possible. He had prided himself on his strong immune system and seemingly inability to fall ill.

Until today, that is. He woke with so much pressure in his sinuses, he thought his head would burst. Getting out of bed was a feat in itself, as his whole body ached. He sniffled as he made his way to the bathroom and nearly jumped at his own reflection: his eyes were puffy, his nose was red, and his posture was significantly slouched. He tried to stand up straight but only groaned as his body protested the movement. Today was going to be long.

Pushing through, he swallowed a couple of DayQuils with his morning coffee, stuffed some tissues into his pocket, and gave Jenner a pat on the head before sluggishly making his way to work.

Arriving at the hospital, he noticed the looks of surprise and concern that people gave him as he passed. He didn’t know why; it was just a little cold. It wasn’t like he had grown a second head. He rolled his eyes and continued towards the seventh floor, ignoring everyone he walked past.

Finally arriving in the Diagnostics Office, he found himself breathing heavier than normal. As he sat at his desk, he attempted to take a deep breath but instead triggered a coughing fit. He grabbed a nearby Kleenex and coughed hard, his body wracking with the movement. He took a deep breath and coughed one last time before his lungs took pity on him and stopped causing him distress. Ethan groaned and dropped his head into his hands.

“Ethan? You okay, man?” a voice said.

Ethan looked up to find Tobias looking at him with concern. He hadn’t even heard his old friend come in. He nodded and sighed. “Yeah; just a little under the weather today, is all.”

“If you’re not feeling well, you should probably go home,” Tobias suggested. “There’s no point in pushing yourself to further exhaustion.”

Ethan shook his head. “I’m fine; I just need the DayQuil to kick in.”

Tobias pursed his lips then clicked his tongue. “If you say so; Nat’s not gonna be happy to see you like this though.”

“See who like what?” the aforementioned doctor asked as she walked into the room. Natalie looked to Tobias first then Ethan, her eyes widening. “Woah, are you okay?” She quickly made her way over to Ethan and rested the back of her hand to his forehead.

He weakly brushed her hand away. “I’m fine, Nat. Just a little under the weather.”

“I’d say more than a little; you look terrible!” She exclaimed. He frowned and she gave him a small smile. “Sorry babe, but it’s true.”

“I also walked in on him having a serious coughing fit a moment ago,” Tobias said. Ethan glared at Tobias but the latter deliberately avoided eye contact with him, choosing to look at his phone instead.

Natalie gently placed her hand on Ethan’s cheek and turned his face towards her so she could look at him. He watched as her eyes scanned his face and knew she was trying to figure out how sick he really was. He both loved and hated how well she knew him sometimes. “You should go home, Ethan.”

“I’m fine,” he argued. “I already took some meds, they just need to kick in.”

She pulled out her stethoscope and pointed it at him threateningly. “Go home or I’ll admit you.”

Tobias coughed back a chuckle and Ethan raised an eyebrow. “You do remember I’m your boss, right?”

She nodded as she put the headset into her ears and placed the cold chestpiece against his chest, making him jump. “You’re my boss, my boyfriend, and now, my patient. Breathe in.”

“Nat, this is ridiculous--” he argued but stopped when she glared at him.

“Breathe. In.” she repeated. Shaking his head in reply, he did as she said and found taking a breath was difficult. He fought the cough he could feel bubbling up but to no avail; thankfully, however, this cough was not nearly as violent as the last one. Nat pulled the chestpiece away and nodded. “Yeah, you’re a mess. You’re going home.” He opened his mouth to protest but she held up her hand. “Don’t argue with me on this. You’re in no state to work, let alone be around other sick patients.”

She pulled out a prescription pad, scribbled something down then turned to Tobias and handed it to him. “Tobias, can you send this down to the pharmacy so they can get it filled? I’ll pick it up when it’s ready.”

He nodded and took the form. “Sure thing.” He turned to Ethan and smiled sympathetically. “Get better soon, Ethan. Nat’s not as fun to be around when she’s in charge.”

Natalie rolled her eyes and smirked as Tobias made his way out of the office. She turned back to Ethan and softened her gaze as he frowned and sniffled. She caressed his cheek with her hand. “I love you.”

His frown shifted to a small smile. “I love you too.” He sneezed.

“You see why I’m sending you home, right?”

He sighed and nodded. “Yeah; I do. I hate being sick. I always feel so useless.”

“You are still human, my love; and humans get sick from time to time. It’s normal.” She crouched in front of him and took his hands in hers. “I’ll come over after my shift and make you some soup, okay?”

“You don’t have to do that--” he weakly protested.

She shook her head. “I want to; let me take care of you, baby. Please.”

Sighing, he nodded and stood, bringing Natalie up with him. He reached for her but hesitated as he didn’t want to make her ill. She smiled at him and stood on her tiptoes to place a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Go home and get some rest. I’ll be there in a couple hours.”

He nodded. Sighing, he left the hospital and made his way home, his head in a fog for most of the journey. After safely arriving home, he changed into some more comfortable clothing, with the intention of getting some work done on his laptop; but the bed looked just so inviting. I guess I could lay down for a few minutes, he thought. Gently, he laid on the bed and closed his eyes. Five minutes is all I need. Within seconds, his body relaxed and he began to emit quiet snores, work completely forgotten.

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

Several Hours Later

Ethan woke to the muffled sounds of the television and someone shuffling around in his kitchen. He groaned and got out of bed, padding his way to the source of the noise. As he exited the bedroom, he was greeted with the various sights of onion, tomato, and meat that were cooking on the stovetop. Unfortunately, due to his stuffed sinuses, he could barely smell anything but he presumed it was heavenly.

“Hi,” a voice said. He turned his attention to the source and smiled as Natalie approached him, throwing a hand towel over her shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

“Not great,” he replied, truthfully.

She gently brought his forehead to her lips as she judged his temperature. She hummed as she pulled away. “You’re warm.” She turned around and grabbed a small box out of her purse then handed it to him. He looked it over appraisingly, realizing this must be the prescription Nat wrote out earlier. “Take one of these now; it should lower your fever and help you feel better. Go get comfortable, the soup will be ready soon.”

“You didn’t have to do all this, Nat,” he began.

“Of course I did,” she said, cutting him off. She rested a gentle hand on his back and guided him towards the sofa. “Now, relax and get comfy. I’m almost done.”

Ethan did as she said, plopping down on the couch. He opened the prescription box and took the prescribed medication as Jenner trotted over and rested his head in his master’s lap. Ethan patted the pup’s head soothingly, giving him a tired smile. “Has she been giving you orders today, too?” he asked.

“Unlike you, Jenner is a spectacular patient,” Nat answered from the kitchen. “He’s been very good and even earned himself a few treats for being so good.”

“Did you, now?” Ethan mused, looking down at Jenner. The pup, none the wiser to the conversation happening about him, simply wagged his tail and gave his best doggy smile to his owner. Ethan chuckled. “Good dog.”

Taking the remote, he flipped to the Classic Film channel and sunk lower onto the couch. He felt his body begin to shiver and grabbed the nearby throw blanket, covering himself with it. “God, this is awful. I hate being sick.”

“I know, my love,” Nat soothed. “But the meds I gave you should help. They just need time to kick in. And,” she walked over and placed a bowl of hot soup in front of him on the coffee table, “this should help too. It’s an old family recipe of Dani’s. It works wonders.”

“Speaking from experience?” he asked, leaning over, letting the steam from the hot bowl wash over his face.

Nat nodded. “Yep. Both Dani and I got the flu within a week of each other when we were still living together. She made this soup for us and we both felt better almost immediately. I’m convinced it’s got magic powers.”

Ethan chuckled. “I’ll take your word for it.” He pulled the coffee table a little closer to the couch and smiled at Nat. “Thank you for making this.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, returning his smile. “Now, eat. I’ll be right there.”

Lacking the energy to argue, he did as she said, bringing a spoonful of the hot soup to his lips. Within minutes, Ethan felt the hot liquid warm up his body, which had been starting to feel cold. Nat smiled as she joined him with her own bowl, nodding in approval as he steadily ate.

Nat filled him in on what he missed at work while they ate, which hadn’t been much, thankfully. Their new patient wouldn’t be admitted for another week so the team had just done some prep and research today but nothing else beyond that. Ethan asked a few questions as Nat explained but otherwise, remained quiet through their conversation. Nat raised an eyebrow, suspicious. “You’re being unusually cooperative. What’s the matter?”

He chuckled and placed his near empty bowl on the coffee table. “Nothing. I’m just feeling a little drained, is all.”

“Mm, I’m not surprised. When you get sick, it hits you like a freight train.”

He frowned. “Thanks.”

Nat chuckled and settled deeper into the couch. She opened her arms and gestured towards herself with her fingers. “C’mere.”

Needing no further invitation, Ethan maneuvered himself into Nat’s embrace, covering them both with the throw blanket he had still been wearing. As he relaxed in her arms, he wondered aloud, “Aren’t you worried about getting sick?”

She hummed. “Nah. But even if I was, it wouldn’t stop me from being here.” She ran her fingers through his hair. “I would take care of you, anytime.”

He looked up at her and smiled. “Thank you, Nat. You’re too good for me.”

“No, I’m not,” she replied, smiling. “We’re just the right amount of good for each other.” She kissed his head. “Can I get you anything else?”

He shook his head, tightening his hold around her midsection. “No. Just you.”

“I’m right here,” Nat reassured.

“Love you,” Ethan murmured, his eyes fluttering closed.

“I love you too. Now, rest.” She gently leaned over and took the remote from the coffee table.

“Don’t watch the next episode of Bake Off without me,” Ethan said, his voice drowsy.

Nat chuckled. “I wouldn’t dare. When you’re feeling better, we’ll pick up where we left off.” When he didn’t respond, she glanced down to find that Ethan had fallen asleep. Smiling to herself, she turned on an old favorite film of hers and watched, while running her fingers up and down Ethan’s back.

It would be a few more days before Ethan was back in top shape; but Nat took care of him the entire time. From bringing him food to ensuring he rested instead of working, Nat took better care of Ethan than he had ever done himself when he had been sick in the past. He’d never been so well taken care of before, and it made him all the more grateful to have her in his life. He’d always hoped she’d take over the DT for him one day; and after the way she cared for him, he knew the team would be in the best possible hands. And so would he.

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#bexwritesstuff #ethan ramsey #natalie cusack #ethan x natalie #ethan x mc #open heart mc #open heart fanfics #choices fic writers creations

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whimsicallyreading · 3 years

Text

Dark Roast, No Sugar

“Last night I woke the hell up. I realized I need you here, as desperate as that sounds, yeah.” - Jon Bellion

Masterlist

Chapter Nine-

Aelin showed up to the police department in a pair of leggings and an oversized shirt. She didn't even bother putting on the new-ish sneakers she owned, opting for the ones with holes because they didn't squeeze her feet. It wasn't the first impression she wanted to give, but you deserve a little forgiveness when making a whole-ass human.

Leaning over the dash of the car, she presses a friendly kiss to the side of Chaol's face. "Thanks for the ride, boys."

His cheeks redden, and Dorian leans as much of his body as he can into the front of the car, "No sugar for me?"

Aelin laughs and kisses his cheek good-naturedly. "Feel less left out now?"

"Much better," the corners of his happy smile dim, his blue eyes dart to the doors of the precinct. "Are you sure you don't want me to call you a lawyer, Aelin?"

Chaol nods his agreement beside him, his hands clenching the steering wheel despite the car being in park. "Do you want me to go inside with you?"

Aelin feels a bubble of warmth blossoming in her chest. Their worried faces and eagerness to help her- it was almost enough to warm an assassin's heart. "Don't worry. They just need me to clarify a few things in my statement. Nothing serious. Paperwork issues."

Dorian and Chaol had shown up right as she was walking out of the front door of The Stag. When they realized she was leaving and offered her a ride... Aelin couldn't say no. Not with how her feet were aching.

It took some more reassuring, but they finally agreed to let her leave their caring grasps.

Fenrys met her at the door with a smile, "Hey, Baby Mama. Looking beautiful."

Aelin is surprised to find she's genuinely happy to see him. She can't help the toothy grin he brings out in her. "I'm well. How are you this morning, Fen?"

Fenrys lights up at the nickname. "I bought us some donuts. We have a hard day of work ahead of us, and I figured we would deserve a treat in advance."

Donuts sounded phenomenal and vastly improved her outlook of the day.

He steers her through the PD, and several heads turn to stare as she passes. Aelin didn't particularly care. Whatever they thought they knew about her, they probably didn't.

When they finally reach Rowan's office, they find him slumped over a laptop at a desk piled high with neatly stacked papers. The room is minimalistic. Only necessary office items were visible—no personal effects, knickknacks, or pictures of any kind adorning the space.

Rowan himself is also in his usual state of neatness, minus the dirt she could see staining the underside of his nails. He must have been gardening this morning.

Aelin doesn't bother with greetings. She grabs a chair opposite him and sits down. The last few days, she'd been feeling more drained and quick to tire. At first, she attributed it to the baby getting larger and demanding more of her body's resources, but now Aelin started to think that she caught a bug galavanting through the night.

Fenrys set a blueberry donut and a cup of hot tea in front of her. Bless him. Aelin mumbles her thanks before stuffing her mouth.

Rowan shuts his laptop with a snap and replaces it with a yellow notepad. "Alright, Aelin. I need a name. Who do you think is doing this?"

"When is Aedion getting released?" She says around a mouthful of glazed blueberry.

Fenrys slumps into an office chair at a tinier desk in the corner of the room. "This afternoon."

"If all goes well at this meeting," Rowan tacks on the thinly veiled warning. "I need a name."

Aelin leans back in her seat and takes a deep breath. There was a strange heaviness in giving his name. As if speaking it would materialize him into existence in front of her. Her goal when she moved to Ornyth was to forget about him and push her old master as far from her mind as she physically could, but she supposed it was naive to think he wouldn't come looking for her.

This wasn't just for her, Aelin reminds herself. Aedion would benefit from this conversation.

"His name is Arobynn Hammel. He's thirty-five, red hair, grey eyes, and an utter asshole." Aelin lays the name of her childhood tormentor out on the table. A bad taste sours her mouth.

Rowan tosses the notepad to Fenrys, who relays what she said to the paper. He looks at her over his desk with an unreadable expression. "What is your relation to Mr. Hammel?"

"Why?" Aelin chuckles as if the stress is trying to escape her with each half-hearted chuckle. "Do you want to know if he's my baby daddy?"

"Yes," Rowan and Fenrys say simultaneously.

Aelin's smile falls, and she scowls at both of them. They didn't know better, but she still felt insulted.

"He isn't, but I suppose he probably would have liked to be. Make sure to underline that," she points at Fenry's pad of paper. "Arobynn raised me. I don't think he was legally a foster parent, but he is who I was given to in the shuffle after the occupation."

Rowan dips his chin. Green eyes focus on her intensely, as if he's trying to absorb and commit her every word to memory. "How old were you when they put you in his care?"

"Eight," Aelin breathes out, a sharp tingling of grief comes with that admission. "I lived with him from the time I was eight until I turned nineteen."

"Why do you suspect him of producing and distributing Synth?" Rowan asks the nail-in-the-coffin question, and Aelin has to bite back old instincts to lie and conceal this information. It makes her feel vulnerable to expose Arobynn.

Vulnerability isn't an emotion she handles well. After all, when you bare your neck to someone, it becomes within their power to cut their throat.

"I've seen where he makes it, and I oversaw some of his high-risk contracts and dealings with the distribution," Fenrys chokes beside her, but he smothers it with a cough. Even Rowan looks a little taken back, eyes narrowing.

"At what age did you start assisting with his-" he struggles to find the words. "-His business practices."

Aelin blinks, "Eight."

This time, neither of them covers their reactions. They both freeze in their seats, an air of disbelief hanging over them. Aelin feels a chill and tugs at the hem of her shirt, wishing the sleeves were longer.

"What?" Rowan is the first to break the tension.

"I was displaced in the occupation," Aelin begins the watered-down version of her sob story. "I was carted into Adarlan and placed in the care of Arobynn Hammel. Within a couple of months, he was already using me as a mule to get orders across Rifthold. He trained me in various skills to carry out larger jobs, along with a few other children."

"There were others?" Rowan looks saddened by that tidbit.

Mentally Aelin wants to laugh.

Of course, he would be upset at the prospect of other good children suffering from such a fate.`Ones who had the potential he thought she lacked.

If only he knew what bastards they all grew up to be, and she by far was not the worst of them.

Fenrys' eyes were gleaming with more pity than Aelin was comfortable with because, unlike Rowan, she knew it was directed towards her. Gratefully he didn't dig too deeply. Instead, Fenrys picked up the next question. "Can you name the others?"

Aelin bites her lip, leg fidgeting under the table. "Tern Fletcher, Archer Flynn, Adam Mulligan, Lysandra Ennar-" she swallows past the lump in her throat. "Samuel Cortland and myself."

"Lysandra was involved?" Rowan leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. He hasn't looked away, barely blinked, since the questioning began. Aelin feels naked as his eyes seemed to be raking in her every movement.

"Not-" she tries to think of how to phrase it in a way that respects her friend's privacy. "She wasn't involved in the same capacity I was."

"Are the others you know still working with Hammel?" Rowan asks, and Aelin gladly lets them move the conversation away from Lys. She wasn't comfortable digging into her friend's wounds when she wasn't around.

"I suspect Mulligan, Flynn, and Fletcher. They were extremely loyal, and as of the last time I saw them, very active in the business." Aelin fondly remembers the beat down she laid on Archer before their parting words. He sold them out, and she hopes for his sake that they never run into each other again.

Fenrys looks up, "What about Samuel?"

"What?" Aelin flinches, the question taking her back.

"Samuel Cortland," Rowan reiterates. "You named him as one of the employees in Hammel's custody but implied he's no longer active in the business. Where is he then?" He leans forward, and Aelin wishes she could shrink back. "Would he be willing to speak with us?"

"Children." Her voice comes out as gruffer than she intends. "We were kids. Not employees. It wasn't a mutual agreement. None of us could consent to what became of us."

Aelin is surprised by the emotion that makes itself known. She swallows back the tears that want to fall and stuffs her trembling hands under her thighs. The implication any of them had a choice in serving Arobynn was disturbing and utterly wrong.

The taste of skin between her teeth, blood crusting under her nails, and being surrounded in pitch-black darkness consume her. Aelin suddenly feels more ill than she had this morning.

"Of course, Aelin." Fenrys placates. "That's understood. We just need to know where Samuel is. He could be very useful to the investigation."

"Dead," Aelin throws the word out like a dying fish on the table. "He died."

It hurt to say that. Tears burned in the corners of her eyes. Sam dying was worse than talking about Arobynn. A million times worse.

Aelin tries to swallow the lead rock in her throat. Arobynn didn't deserve to be known. His legacy was of blood, abuse, and control. It belonged in the sewer alongside his corpse.

Sam, on the other hand, deserved to be known. He abandoned by the system, forgotten by his family, and still chose kindness above all else. Sam's story deserved to be told, and it killed Aelin that it hurt her so much to share it.

"How did he die?" Fenrys prods delicately.

"What?" Aelin asks dumbly, heart accelerating in her chest.

"How did Samuel die? Any details you can give are beneficial. and you agreed to cooperate." Rowan reminds her sternly.

Mala save her, she couldn't go into detail about how she found him. She couldn't. Aelin feels blood rushing up to her head, and the room seems to sway.

"Sam. He liked to be called Sam-" Is all Aelin manages to choke out. "Excuse me."

Pushing herself from the desk, she shakily bolts for the office door. Their complaints are silenced as the glass shuts behind her. Outside, Aelin can feel the trembling beginning in her hands and spreading up her arms.

Sweat beads on her forehead in the oppressive heat of the building, but when she rubs her face, it feels damp and cold to the touch.

Aelin frantically strides down the hall, eyes darting around madly for a bathroom door. Nausea was creeping up her throat, and she really didn't want to throw up in someone's trashcan. She knew she was moving quickly, that someone might see her and become alarmed, but anxiety made everything feel like it was moving in slow motion.

A dainty hand grips her elbow and tugs in gently. "Follow me, dear. I can help you."

Aelin's head is swimming, and she allows the calming voice to steer her back in the other direction. When the person pushes open the bathroom door and Aelin sees the navy blue stalls, she rips her arm away and falls to her knees before the porcelain bowl.

Long, slender fingers pull her hair back from her face and rub her shoulders as Aelin loses her breakfast. "You are okay," the voice consoles—a hand massages up her spine and soothes the aches there.

Aelin's whole body is shuddering now. Her stomach rolls over itself, and the muscles of her diaphragm are quaking with exertion. She doubts she could get to her feet if she tried. A strand of drool hangs from her lips, and Aelin would be humiliated if her head wasn't still reeling.

Gouged eyes. Bent fingers. Blood on her lips.

A wad of paper towels appears and dabs at her cheeks, which Aelin hadn't even realized were wet with tears. She failed to notice that her body was shuddering under the intensity of the sobs coming from her. The woman continues to pat her cheeks and nose. Then to her mortification, it swipes at the spit hanging from her mouth.

Mala end me now, she mentally pleads.

Aelin looks up to find a woman with raven hair and onyx eyes looking at her sympathetically. "I'm sorry, dear. I don't mean to overstep. I've been where you are before. Please don't be embarrassed."

Opening her mouth, Aelin makes to apologize, but another crackling sob breaks from her chest instead.

She's just tired. Tired of being sad. Tired of feeling sick. Tired of being unable to even say his name without breaking down.

Arms wrap around Aelin's shoulders and tug her into an embrace. She allows her face to burrow into the woman's blazer as the grief racks through her body.

"Oh, sweety. It's going to be alright. I promise whatever is going on right now will work out." Fingers rake through Aelin's hair soothingly. It turns her to jello in the woman's arms. Her presence was just so motherly in a way that Aelin sorely misses.

She holds Aelin tight until she's calm enough to hold a plastic cup of water without dropping it. The woman helps her stand and wipes the mascara smudges off her cheeks with a damp towel. "There you go," she tosses the towel in the trash when she deems Aelin presentable. "Brand new, again."

"Thank you," Aelin breathes out at last. "I don't even know what to say."

"Say nothing," the woman waves her hand. "I've been pregnant before. Hormones. Nausea. It isn't an easy ride, dear. Besides, no one comes to a police station for a good reason." The woman pulls a stick of gum from a purse sitting on the sink and offers it to her. Aelin accepts it gratefully.

"Has anyone told you that stress isn't good for you?" Her kind eyes bore into Aelin worriedly. "You look very pale."

"I've been told. Many times." Aelin rubs her forehead, an ache already forming there. "I just don't have much of a choice."

"What's your name? I'm Maeve." She smiles and extends a hand for Aelin to shake.

Aelin takes the hand, happy that they aren't trembling so badly. "Aelin."

"Do you have any name ideas for the baby?" Maeve's eyes glance down towards the slight swell of her belly a little wistfully.

Names? Aelin periodically forgot that the human growing inside of her would pop into the world and require such a thing. It was a far-off event where she had plenty of time to accommodate for things in her head. In reality, she was halfway through her fourth month.

Time was ticking.

"No. I don't have any ideas yet." Aelin admits.

Maeve pats Aelin's shoulder kindly. "That's just fine. Ignore my curiosity. You have plenty of time if-" she emphasizes, "you take better care of yourself."

There is a knock on the door. "Aelin, are you alright?"

Rowan.

"Yes. I'll be back in a minute," Aelin says through the door.

She waits until his footsteps echo back down the hallway before she makes towards the exit. Eager to leave the bathroom and the memories of her awkward breakdown with it. "Thanks again. Really. I appreciate it."

Aelin truly meant it despite the utter humiliation she felt.

"Let me walk you back to Rowan's office?" Maeve asked. "It's easy to get turned around in this building."

They walked in a comfortable silence back to the office. Maeve's demeanor is so tranquil it surprises Aelin when the demure woman pushes the door open without knocking. "I have a delivery for you boys."

"Chief?" Rowan stands up, confused.

What? Aelin blinks and turns back to the woman, noting the black and whites and the metal badge on the breast of her blazer. The same blazer Aelin had just cried on.

Blood rushed to her face, and her brain curdles in her skull. Of course, it was the law of Orynth whose arms she just broke down in. Adarlan's Assassin reduced to a ball of hormones clinging to the chief detective of Terrasen like a baby clinging to its mother.

"Has she caused trouble?" Rowan's eyes glint with steel.

If you've done anything to degrade me to my boss, the deal is off.

"Not at all. We ran into each other in the bathroom and had a lovely chat," Maeve brushes an invisible piece of dust from Aelin's shoulder. "I will let the three of you get back to business. You are in excellent company."

Aelin's lip quirks. Just the opposite. She loves me. Congratulations, you are already reaping the benefits of my presence.

"Oh, and Fenrys?" Aelin looks at Fenrys, who is actively ignoring them. "The reports you promised are late. Have them to my desk by the end of the day, please."

"Will do, Chief." Fenrys' reply is dry and lacks his usual pep.

Aelin notes the worried glance Rowan throws him, but he swiftly covers it with an expressionless mask. "I will make sure he gets it done."

What was that? Aelin tries to pry an answer from Rowan, but he avoids her look.

When Maeve leaves, the tension eases from the men's shoulders.

"You are trouble," Rowan tosses at her without venom.

Aelin picks up the cup of tea she left at his desk, glad it's still warm. "Yes, but only the best kind."

"We haven't laid out a single plan for weaseling out Arobynn," Fenrys makes an irritated face at them. "If either of you could focus for ten minutes, we can do the rest of the questioning later, but we need to start throwing out ideas."

"Did Rowan piss in your tea in the last ten minutes I was gone?" Aelin shoots back, not appreciating his sudden attitude.

"Thirty," Rowan says. "You were gone for thirty minutes. That's why I came looking for you. Also, ruining beverages is your thing, not mine."

Damn, had she been gone that long? A glance at the clock confirms he was correct.

When she turns back to Rowan, there is almost something like worry in his eyes? That couldn't be right, Aelin rubs that aching side of her head again. She needed to stop reading so deeply into things.

"We can continue with questioning later," Rowan announces. "Fenrys is correct in saying we need to start making plans. You've given us enough to work with for now."

They sat back in their chairs, pulled out more notepads, red pens, and sticky notes. Together, Aelin helped them form a list of potential places Arobynn would be laying low. Hotels, rental homes, and vacant manors. He had a taste for luxury Aelin knew he wouldn't sacrifice for anonymity.

Test results were still running on the Synth. Technicians had let them know it showed highly abnormal properties compared to average street drugs, and they promised to send them an extensive report when they were through.

Rowan had hushed any potential news stories about The Stag shooting. He didn't want anyone who may know Celaena to catch wind and start snooping around. Aelin was his best lead, which afforded her a certain level of discretion he acknowledged.

They didn't know about the Bane patrolling her block at night, keeping their eyes on the streets for unusual activity.

The clock ticked, and the light beaming through the winders grew warmer as the afternoon trickled away. It was nearly five o'clock when Rowan declared then done for the day, and Aelin was utterly exhausted.

"Come on," Fenrys offered her a hand to help her stand. "I can drive you by the prison. Aedion should be getting checked out as we speak."

"Thank you," Aelin accepts the help. Her feet ached, and she felt entirely drained. It was good Fenrys was offering a ride, or she'd have to call Dorian to come and get her.

Together, the three of them made their way to the parking lot. Conversation between them was sparse but not unpleasant. They'd fallen into a rhythm at some point while working together. It helped break up some of the awkwardness between her and Rowan.

Aelin hustled a little bit when she spotted Fenry's luxury car. She wanted to claim the front seat before Rowan did. Her gut couldn't handle the stress of riding the back.

Her fingers barely grazed the polished handle when Fenrys started yelling.

Arms wrapped around her waist, and Aelin's face throbbed as it found itself slammed into the asphalt. A loud explosion rattled her ears, and chunks of debris went flying through the air. A thick foggy smoke started filling the air, and she immediately started choking on it.

A dense weight lifts off her back, and hands grab her shoulders, rolling her body to face the clouded sky instead of the ground. Rowan is in her personal space immediately. He's speaking to her, but no sound is penetrating the ringing in her ears.

His hands are running along her arms, the side of her face, checking for injury. Aelin tries to ask him if he's alright, but he doesn't seem able to hear her either.

Suddenly, Fenrys is there, and he's grabbing them both by the arms. They are moving away at a sprint. Fenrys is yelling, but the smoke is stinging her eyes, and even seeing is becoming hard.

There is another explosion, and Aelin can feel the tremors beneath the soles of her shoes as the three of them hit the ground once more.

People are pouring out of the precinct. Aelin spies Cheif Maeve at the front of them, ordering people out of the building. Red and blue lights reflect off the smoke, and she knows that ambulances must be on their way.

Rowan is lying beside her. She hadn't noticed the rips in the back of his suit jacket at first, but there were long gouges in the material, and smoke wafted off a couple of scorch marks. The fact he'd thrown himself over her body and shielded her from the explosion was only starting to register when something warm squeezed her hand.

Are you okay? Green eyes were scouring her body for wounds.

I'm fine, Aelin assures him. She's more concerned about the spots on the back of his suit growing wet as he bled.

"Someone blew up my car," Fenrys is gaping at the spot where his vintage ride used to be. All that remained was a roughed-up frame that was lit ablaze like a campfire.

"Gods," Aelin breathed out, the ringing in her ears dying down. "I almost died."

Rowan hadn't let go of her hand and made no move to do so as his eyes fixed on the burning car. "That was meant for us."

He didn't have to elaborate for Aelin to understand. Whoever had placed the bomb hadn't been targeting her, but Rowan and Fenrys. They arrived and left work together. The bomb wasn't there when they got to the precinct this morning, so someone must have placed it while they were inside.

"What have we gotten ourselves into?" Fenrys runs a dirty hand through his hair.

Sirens wailed as paramedics filed into the parking lot. Other detectives and officers were starting to approach them. Firefighters approached the car with extinguishers and began to tame the burning fire.

Aelin didn't have an answer. Just the sinking feeling that the game they'd entered into had more players than she'd thought.

Here is part one of the mass updates! Thank you SO much for reading. I’ve gotten so much feedback and love on this fic it’s been so wonderful 💚

I do have an ✨IMPORTANT QUESTION✨

Would you all prefer I have tag lists specific to certain fics or an overall tag list for ships? So one tag list for all of my rowaelin fics, one for all my quinlar fics, or would you like me to keep it as I have been? Please let me know! ✨

Tag list- Let me know if you would like to be added or removed. :D ( names in bold won’t tag)

@thisismylibrary

@highladywhitethrone

@bee55

@royalsqueeze

@rowaelin-cressworth

@booknerdproblems

@sjmships

@ladyfireheart-and-buzzard

@wordsxstars

@rowaelinismyotp

@courtofjurdan

@emmiesbook

@killian-me-slowly

@miserablemusings

@aelinchocolatelover

@booksbqueen

@flamingveritas

@tomtenadia

@fromthelibraryofemilyj

@loudphantomdragon

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato

@superspiritfestival

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@nish247

@vasudharaghavan

@maybekindasortaace

@mariamuses

@frosted-crackers

@foughtconquered

@live-the-fangirl-life

@ghostlyrose2

#coffeeshopau #rowaelin #throne of glass #angst #aelin #fanfic #rowan whitethorn

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babylooneytoonz · 3 years

Text

mr. shelby's secretary [CEO AU]

[GIF by @maskingfragility]

— pairing: Modern! Tommy Shelby x Reader

— summary : Prompt request 1) “Can you shut up for once in your life?” 2) “Am I your lockscreen?” “You weren’t supposed to see that.” 3)“You’re insane,” “You love me,” “Not right now I don’t.” 4) "I think you might be my soulmate," as requested by @sighonahurricane and @screechingexpertpruneneck [ Hope you like it. I decided to club both the requests into one as the prompts were almost the same ones.🤍]

— warnings: none

[Masterlist]

You had been an exceptional student, all through school, then all through college and then had begun working for one of the most famous firms in London. Due to unforeseen circumstances, when your father passed away due to a terminal illness, you had to quit your job in London and move to Birmingham to take care of your mother.

Birmingham was an altogether different world, atleast as compared to London, but it was a good change for you. Even luckier for you was the fact that just weeks into moving to Birmingham City, you interviewed for a secretary position for CEO of Shelby Brothers LTD, Thomas Shelby and you had gotten the job.

You had been now working for him for over three months now, but the journey had definitely not been easy. You still remembered how your first day at work had been an absolute disaster. You had arrived on time, at 9 am. You still had an hour to go before Tommy entered his office at 10 am, and there were a few stacks of papers that you had to clear.

Before starting your work, you had decided to get yourself a mug of coffee to boost up your day but while you were at the pantry, sitting and sipping your coffee, your phone beeped. When you looked at the message, colour drained from your face.

Thomas Shelby had a meeting at 10, and thus, he had decided he would come in early, and he hadn't found you in your adjoining cabin, and neither were the papers from his room that he wanted gone were actually gone. The colour drained from your face when you saw his text— in three words did he write— get in here, ASAP.

The hearing that you received from Tommy that day, you doubted if you had retained your job after the first day, but strangely, Tommy didn't fire you. That was the only time you actually made him angry though and things slowly changed after that. Thomas Shelby began relying on you more and more as the days passed. He even took your opinions, or let you select the suits he was going to wear on events, without even expressing any doubt on you.

For Tommy, you were like a breath of fresh air in times he needed it the most. You were exceptionally good at your work, but what he liked secretly about you was the fact that you were good at handling him— be it his anger, that you took almost gracefully, without even bothering to spite him back. You listened to him scream and yell at you, but you never lost your own temper. Or be it the recognition of his tiny needs, like when he was in a dire need of coffee.

Tommy would be lying now if he said that he didn't need you; he was now completely dependant on you. Everyday, when he came to work, the first thing he looked at was your smiling face through the glass panels of your adjoining cabin, before he disappeared into his office, and there lay his mug of piping hot black coffee without sugar, and a sandwich, or pancakes, you knowing well aware that the man came to office on an empty stomach. He would call you into his cabin atleast fifty times in a day.

Few months into you working for Mr. Shelby, you were finally growing to despise the man less and less, and learn to get accustomed to his cold outer exterior, and get warmed up to the minutest reflections of the gentleness he hid inside of him.

Tommy was getting impatient, as he leaned against his mahogany desk, his shirt rolled up by the sleeves up to his elbows as he rested the elbows against the surface of the desk. A lit cigarette rested in his left hand, as he stared at the rain clogged glass window in his office. It was raining heavily, and he wondered if it was the weather that had you actually running almost two hours late when you never were late.

He swiped his palm over his face, worry gnawed at the pit of his stomach. He knew you weren't like that. In fact, you were one of the most punctual person he had actually met. He stood up, dabbing the lit end of the cigarette into his ashtray, before he grabbed his coat and walked out of his office. Mary, one of the employees who were friends with you, was outside, talking to one of the interns.

"Mary? Have you heard from [Y/N]? She isn't in yet," Tommy asked, and the woman turned, her eyes almost widening for Tommy seldom spoke to anyone in the office, unless required.

"Mr. Shelby, uh, sir, I don't know. I haven't seen her in today, I was also wondering—" she began, but before she could complete her sentence, impatient Tommy had cut her off.

"Mary, can you go through the company records and give me her address?"

"Definitely, Mr. Shelby," the woman drawled, as she hunched over her system, her fingers tapping against the keypad as she pulled out your address from the company records. She noted the address down on a slip of paper, and looked up at him, "Mr. Shelby, I can ask someone to check on her if you'd like? Maybe due to the weather, her car broke down."

"It's okay, Mary, I'm already headed out, just hand me the address," he impatiently threw out his palm, and the woman placed the parchment in his hands, knowing well as to not say anything else. Tommy turned around and slowly began walking out of the building towards the elevator and pressed the button.

The rains were not going to die down anytime soon, that was something that Tommy noted as he brought the car to a halt outside the address that Mary had handed him. He squinted his eyes, eyeing the plain looking building that stood in front of him, eyeing the first floor that you occupied. He wondered if you had already left for he couldn't see your car anywhere in sight.

Finally, he pulled out his umbrella from the back seat of the car, and stepped out into the lashing rains, dashing through the puddles towards your apartment where an elderly woman was at the door, shielded from the rains underneath the front porch.

"Can I help you?" The woman said in a kind voice, as she moved out of the way, and let Tommy fix himself underneath the porch to find a shelter from the rains.

"I'm looking for,uh, Miss [Y/N]. She works for me," Tommy muttered, under his breath.

"Oh, dear. You're Thomas Shelby? The CEO of Shelby Brothers LTD?" The woman's eyes began glistening with excitement and Tommy nodded, his eyebrows creasing into a hint of a frown. He wasn't here for a fangirl moment.

"Is she here?" Tommy's impatience was a good enough answer for the woman, who nodded and immediately informed him that you had already left for work over an hour ago.

This did nothing to cease the worry pooling inside of him. If you had already left for work, then why weren't you in office? He pulled out his phone, placing his palm on the screen as though shielding it from the woman's unwanted, prying eyes, hoping you had left him a message but you hadn't.

"Thank you," he finally muttered, as he ran out into the rain again, and this time, he didn't even bother using the umbrella, letting himself get drenched from the porch to the car.

Turning the ignition on, he slowly pulled the car on the road, and he started driving in a slow pace, his eyes on the road in front of him.

As if someone had been listening in on his thoughts secretly and had decided to act on it, Tommy brought the car to an abrupt half, applying the brakes. There you were, right in front of his eyes, and Tommy couldn't help but let himself smile warmly, after ages.

From what he could see, it was clear what had taken you so long. You had your heels in your hands, your body was drenched in the rain, your hair sticking to your face. Your knees had mud on it, but that didn't deter you from running about the muddy road, helping the elderlies out of the bus that had broken down.

He saw, as you took the shopping bags from one of the older men, and gave your arm to him that he took and you helped him step out of the abandoned vehicle, and you helped him cross the muddy road, where the tyres of the bus had gotten stuck.

He watched you for a few minutes, leaning back against the car seat, his hand flying to his wet hair. After a few seconds, he decided to quietly head back to the office, without even letting you know that he had seen you.

About an hour later, you rushed into your office. You had managed to head back home and change into a fresh set of clothing, and put your dead phone on charge. Now you were back, and your heart was strumming inside your chest with fear, you knew Tommy would be mad— very mad.

Slowly, you brought your fisted palm to his door and knocked twice.

"Come in," Tommy called out from the inside; he sounded much calmer than what you had expected him to be, and this made you frown. You had expected him to be snarling. Timidly, you made your way up to his desk, your fingers nervously toying with each other as you looked at him. He had his laptop in front of him, and his fingers skimmed over the keypad. He gave you one glance, and looked back at the screen once again. His ignorance made your heart churn.

"Mr. Shelby?" You asked.

"Yes, [Y/N]?" Tommy looked at you, through his round frames.

"Aren't you angry I'm late?" You blurted, mentally cursing yourself, silently.

He looked at you, amused. Your innocence made his heart flutter but he wasnt going to admit it anytime soon. He noticed your body posture, you were standing like a meek little lamb, afraid of him. He stood up from the leather chair he was sitting on and placed his glasses on his desk, before he moved around his desk to where you were. He then fixed himself directly in front of you and gave you a smile, "Why would I be angry? Go take an off today, [Y/N]. You deserve it."

You were confused by his sudden behaviour but you dared not complain, or question him lest he changed his mind. You gave him a haphazard smile as you dashed out of his office, weirded out by the change in his behaviour.

It was Saturday night, and it meant staying up late with a good Netflix series on, and some good bingewatching and munching on snacks for you. Your mother had already gone to bed, for she was an early sleeper. You had managed to sneak into the kitchen, and heat up the leftovers from lunch; the pasta your mum had prepared for you.

You turned your laptop on, letting it rest against your belly as you began browsing through the newest Netflix collection, trying to settle on a movie, when there was a buzz in your phone. You squinted your eyes when your phone started glowing. Your hand reached out as you grabbed it and began reading the SMS from your boss.

Thomas: be at Richard's at 7 in the eve. Got some really imp clients coming over. will be needing you to take the notes.

You frowned, there went your Sunday weekend plans down the drain; not that you had any solid plans, other than Netflix.

Sunday came by faster than you had imagined it to be, and you were standing in front of your wardrobe, weighing the different outfits that you had to fix a suitable one for the dinner at Richard's. Richard's was one of the posher restaurants, and you wanted to look your best, even if it was just business.

Finally, even though your bedroom looked like a typhoon had occurred inside your room, you were able to pick out a dress. It was just the right amount of professional, and casual. It was navy blue, the neck cut deep enough but yet, it wasn't trashy one bit. Once you had changed into it, you admired your form in the mirror, secretly content by the way it hung across your curves, ecen accentuating your curves. You couldn't help but secretly think of Thomas Shelby's reaction when he saw you in this dress.

You were startled when your phone started ringing, pulling you out of your not so in innocent thoughts about your own boss. When you saw his name flash on your lockscreen, you couldn't help but frown. Reluctantly, you tapped on the talk icon, flinging the phone to your ears, "Yes, Mr. Shelby?"

"Grey or black? Red tie or navy blue? I can't fucking decide what to wear. Why is it the fucking weekend [Y/N]. I don't fucking know what to wear," he sounded exasperated and worked up on the other side of the phone and you couldn't help but chuckle silently, silently enjoying this. You knew this would happen.

"The grey with the blue tie, Mr. Shelby, you can make any girl crazy in the grey tux of yours," you smiled, aimlessly drawing your fingers through your hair. You didn't know how you got that courage to openly flirt with him, but you didn't stop yourself from doing it. What suprised you was the fact that Tommy only let you do it. After a minute of silence, he hummed and you could hear him practically pull his tux off the hanger and he murmured, "the grey one it is then."

You kept the phone to your ear, not wanting to disconnect even though he wasn't speaking to you. Oddly enough, even in the silence that lingered on that call, you felt a sense on intimacy, something that you didn't want to let go off, as you grabbed your lipstick and using your free hand, began applying it delicately to your lips.

"What are you wearing?" Tommy's voice reached your ears, and you couldn't help but bite into the insides of your cheeks, feeling giddy in your chest.

"Navy blue dress I wore at the office party, Mr. Shelby. I can change if you want, it's a little too much, don't you think?" You nervously babbled.

"No, keep it on. It compliments my tie."

You smiled upon listening to his words, and just like that, without a parting, Tommy disconnected, sliding his phone into his pocket, his fingers toying with the fabric of his navy blue tie. Even if he was bent of wearing the red one silently, he was now going to switch to the blue one, just because you were wearing blue.

"Miss, do you have a reservation?" The manager asked you, and you smiled courteously.

"Yes, it should be under a Mr. Thomas Shelby?" You replied, and the man immediately nodded and his eyes began scanning through the contents of the register in front of him.

"Ah, you must be Miss [Y/N]. Please follow me, we are delighted to have you," he slowly turned away from you, and you began following him through the open air restaurant, where archaic white gazebos stood tall, adorned with fairy lights, and inside the gazebos were comfortable tables and dine in facilities.

Tommy was finally in sight. He was at the farthest gazebo that stood directly beside the narrow stream, that shone due to the moonlight falling on it.

It wasn't Tommy that captured your attention though, it was the woman dressed in a beautiful red evening dress, her perfectly toned legs covered in sheer black stockings. Her long black hair fell lusciously over her shoulders as she threw back her head and laughed at something Thomas probably said. What made you a tiny bit of jealous was the fact that the two of them looked like they were long time friends; Tommy rarely smiled, and especially never in the open.

You cleared your throat a little too loudly and Tommy turned towards you, and so did the woman in the red dress. You couldn't help but think how beautiful the woman was.

"Tatiana, this is my secretary [Y/N]. She will be going through the final papers and the other formalities," Tommy blinked, his palm ghosting the low of your back as he guided you into an empty chair and you sat down, smiling at Tatiana.

"[Y/N], this is my friend, and soon to be business partner, Tatiana Petrovna," You watched from the corner of your eye as Tommy leaned towards her and he placed his hand on her thigh. You grabbed the fabric of your dress, awkwardly balling the fabric along your fists, although shielded by the table.

The business meeting lasted for an hour, and by the time the three of you were done, half of the restaurant had gotten empty.

"It was a pleasure meeting you once again, Thomas, and even a greater pleasure doing business with you," she gave Tommy her hand and they shook it. You noted how the handshake lingered for a little longer than it was supposed to. Thomas stood up, but you kept seated, as you watched the woman turn away and began strutting down the garden path, towards a massive black SUV parked by the other side.

After a minute of silence, Tommy sighed and he sat down, his earlier jolly expression having dissipated into thin air. He pulled out a cigarette box from the pocket of his tux and brought it up to his lips, flicking you a quick glance.

"You alright?"

"Me? Oh I am more than alright, Mr. Shelby. It's a lovely night, and I'm sitting at one of the loveliest places in Birmingham, with such a lovely company," you deadpanned, giving him a stare down.

"You don't look happy to be here, love," he brought the lit cigarette to his lips, inhaling smoke from it as he eyed you carefully. One of the waiters stepped forward, clearing his throat and you saw that he had a bottle of wine in his hands. Tommy blinked and motioned to the waiter to fill up the glasses and once he had left, his fingers curled against his glass and he lifted it, taking a sip of it.

"Oh, Mr. Shelby, I am delighted to be here, don't you see that? Can we leave?" You arched forward, letting your elbows rest against the table, your glass of wine laying untouched.

Tommy parted his lips, as though he wanted to say something but before words came out, he pressed his lips shut and stood up, grabbing his coat that hung from the back of his chair, "Alright, I'll drop you home yeah? Come on."

Tommy and you quietly walked back to his car and you got into the passenger's seat as Tommy got into the drivers. He slowly pulled the car off the driveway and began driving towards your apartment.

You were still fuming; raging from the inside as you kept glancing at the silhouettes of the buildings passing you by.

"What is the matter with you, ey?" Tommy suddenly turned towards you, lowering the speed of the car and moving it to the side so he could slowly bring the vehicle to a halt.

"Nothing is. Can we please keep moving, Mr. Shelby? I don't have all night," you hissed venomously at him and he just ran his hand through his hair, exasperated. He didn't know what had gotten into you suddenly.

He suddenly reached for your arm and pulled you forcefully towards him, his eyes gazing into yours, "Will you answer me? What the fuck is the matter with you?"

"Oh, nothing's the matter with me, Mr. Shelby. I don't get why you had me over that wretched little romantic dinner as a third wheel when there weren't even enough notes to make," you blurted out the entire sentence in one go, firing the words at him so fast that it took him a minute to digest them.

"Wait, romantic?" He tilted his head slightly, and his index came to rest on his chin for a second before he sat back against the car seat again, "you think me and Tatiana..?"

"Don't spill your romantic or your sexual endeavours in front of me, Mr. Shelby, Im just a lowly secretary," you fumed, and Tommy couldn't help but feel his lips twitch in amusement at how adorably cute you looked when you were angry and jealous.

"Well, now to think of it, eh, we did have some good fucks a few years back," Tommy muttered, in a low voice. Although he knew this would most probably not end very well, but a devil inside of him was already rising, and your jealousy had given birth to a sudden desire in him to have you spill everything you felt for him to him.

You gasped, your jaw dropping as you turned to him, studying his face. Your hand flew to the car lock, and you unlocked it, immediately stepping out of the vehicle, and Tommy cursed under his breath when he realized that he had probably taken it too far. By the time, he stepped out after you, you had already drawn your phone out, and you were trying to book an Uber when he snatched your phone.

"Get into the fucking car, [Y/N]."

"Give me my phone back, Mr. Shelby, I am not in the mood to do this," you threw out your hand, nudging him to hand you your phone.

He was ready to give you back your phone but before he could, his thumb mistakenly pressed on to the power button, and your phone lit up, your cheeks turning a scarlet red when he saw your lockscreen that had his photo on it.

"Wait, am I your lockscreen?” he looked at you smugly, and you couldn't help but feel embarrassed at the sight of it. Great job done [Y/N].

"You weren't supposed to see that," you whispered, tonguing the insides on your cheeks, flustered.

This time he gave you a smile that was gentler than what he had ever given you. He handed you your phone back, and decided not to tease you about the lockscreen.

"Get into the car, [Y/N], please?" He looked into your eyes, his eyes beckoning yours to listen, and you groaned, nodding. He opened the car door for you once again, and quietly you sat down inside, crossing your arms over your chest.

It was as if he knew that you were in no mood to talk, because he didn't force you to. Quietly, he manoeuvred the vehicle through the cuts and turns and you let your head rest against the windowpane. Within seconds, you were drifting into a light sleep.

About ten minutes later, Tommy pled up on your driveway, but even the car coming to a halt wasn't enough to break your slumber. He slowly turned to look at you, and the sight of you was enough to melt his heart. Reluctantly he brought his shaky palm up to the side of your face as he pushed your hair off the side of it, his fingers gentle against you. You stirred slightly, your eyes fluttering awake as Tommy smiled to himself, whispering, "I think you might be my soulmate, eh, if there is a concept of one. I'd like to believe you're my fucking soulmate." It was so low, you couldn't hear any of it.

"We're here," he announced, louder and clearer this time and you took this as a hint to get the fuck out of his car.

"Thank you, Mr. Shelby, I'll see you at work tomorrow," hurriedly you got out of the car and before Tommy could utter another word, you ran down the side of the apartment towards the side staircase that led to your first floor apartment.

Tommy kept watching as you saw you cash up the flight of stairs, struggling to fish out your bunch of house keys from your purse. He watched as you unlocked the front door and stepped in, hurriedly slamming the door shut.

He kept sitting in the car, and finally turned the ignition on.

"Fuck," he cursed as he turned the ignition off, pulled the car keys out and got out of the car. With big steps, he strode towards the side staircase, from where you had just ran up a few seconds back and reached your doorstep, bringing himself to ring the bell. He waited nervously, tapping the wall awkwardly with his fingers until you opened the door.

He pushed himself inside the minute you opened the door, kicking the door shut behind him.

"Why are you here?" You bit back on your words, trembling slightly. He could see that your eyes were red and puffy, and that you had been crying.

"Were you crying love?" He asked, trying to reach for you. He grabbed your wrists, pulling you towards him.

"You're insane," you whispered, your eyes planted to his lips, but you dared not look up and look into his eyes.

Gently, he let go of your wrist, and instead, placed his palm on the low of your back to hold you steady in his arms, "You love me." He rasped, in a low voice that caused your lips to part.

"Not right now I don't, Mr. Shelby," you spat at him, feeling your eyes start getting cloudy again. To be fair, you were feeling stupid, and embarassed at yourself, for reacting this way, showing him how weak and vulnerable you were, but you couldn't help it. You couldn't stop thinking of Tatiana and Tommy, and the more you did, the more angrier you got. You looked away.

"Look at me, love," Tommy chastised you, placing his hand on the base of your chin as he tried lifting your face up, but you dodged his hand and glared at him,"You're not my boss in here, Mr. Shelby. This is my house."

He gave you a tight lipped smile, and his palm reached out to cup your face, his fingers tracing the outline of your lips. He parted his lips, and fluttered his eyes close, letting an exhale out, before fluttering his blues open again, "this fire within you will be the fucking death of me someday, woman." You curled your lips slightly, licking the insides of your mouth and your nostrils flared, "Shouldn't you be with your business partner? Shagging the fuck out of her? You seem to be at the wrong apartment."

Tommy growled, pushing you to the wall; his knee coming to press against the wall, between the space of your legs. His hands fixed on either side of your head, barring you from escaping.

"Can you shut up for once in your life? I did not fuck Tatiana, ever, yeah?" He looked down into your eyes, and you glared into his, wondering if he was lying.

"You.. didn't?"

"I didn't. And I don't intend to, in the future," he said, in his low husky voice. You fluttered your eyes shut and slowly, like a doe, lifted your face so your lips were now in line with his. You parted your lips, waiting for him to kiss you. He took the hint, a ghost of a smirk forming against his lips as he brought the distance to a close, his plump lips pressing against yours as he kissed you by the wall, "now let's not talk of her now yeah? I would rather spend my night in your bed than stand out here, talking about a woman that doesn't interest me."

"then what interests you?" You smirked.

"You do. You interest me, love."

Your cheeks hurt and your eyes leaked water; tears of happiness flew openly from your eyes. You were dressed in a beautiful black evening gown and your son, Charlie, held your palm, his eyes everywhere but on his father as he walked up to the podium to where the microphone was.

You knelt down gracefully, tickling your son lightly on his Adam's apple, and murmured, "Look, Charlie, your daddy is up there, would you look?"

"Dada!" Charlie babbled, and you hoisted him up and fixed him on your hip as your eyes met Tommy's and he gave you a nod, his eyes twinkling.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you all for coming. You see tonight, eh, is a very special night for me. And I am pleased to announce my endeavours first with you—" He found your eyes again, and you smiled at him, wondering what he was referring to. Ever since you found out you were pregnant with Charlie, two years back, you had decided to quit your job.

"I am pleased to announce [Y/N] and Charles Shelby Center for senior citizens," Tommy turned slightly so he could move out of the way and a huge projector began showing the architectural designs of a massive modern looking building on the screen.

Your heart swelled with pride as you watched your husband gracefully walk down the stairs. People came and greeted him, shaking hands with him, and he stopped momentarily to greet them back. You tickled Charlie's belly as you began striding towards where he was.

Tommy threw out his hand towards you and you gladly accepted, as he pulled you to his side, planting a quick kiss on Charlie's forehead. You lifted your neck up high and you and Tommy posed for a few pictures, and soon the cameras left you alone with him. He leaned closer to you and smiled, "Did you like it, love? I've been planning it since I saw you that day, four years back, helping out in the rain. You were beautiful. "

"You saw that, Tommy? Is that why you didn't even scold me for being late?" You gasped, and he smirked, nodding.

"No wonder I kept thinking that something was wrong with you, Mr. Shelby."

He suddenly turned around and his right arm came to rest on the low of your back as he pulled you to him. On one hip, you adjusted your son, who was now struggling to get into his daddy's arms; you placed your free hand on Tommy's chest and patted it before grabbing his tie, "If there was something bloody wrong with me, why would you still choose me as your husband and then gift me with a lovely boy?"

"Well, because, Mr. Shelby, I love you, and wouldn't trade our family for anything."

#modern! tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #ceo! tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders ceo au #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction

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morgansunflower · 3 years

Text

I Miss You 1/3

Jason Todd X Reader

Batsiblings x Batsis! Reader

Warnings: suggestive content, though nothing explicit

Words:1,179

Reader Love's Jason more than anyone in the world. Though her lover has horrible timing

I threw up my breakfast into the grass outside Wayne Manor garden just beyond the shrubs. As I finally stop, I groan. Shit. My impending morning sickness the norm for the last few months. I step through the shrubs by the pool. I step up the steps. I open the door to the back entrance. I step inside and shut the door behind me. I saw Damian walk down the staircase. The chances of him trying to get on my nerves are well, very likely. Epically sense I smell horrible from throwing up.

I sigh "please don't say anything I know there are a million insults you want to say. I just need a break"

"tt, you smell revolting" he said with a rewarding look on his face

Of course I do "that's what happens when you throw up your entire breakfast" I obviously stated

I walked up the steps to my room. I walk through the hallway and open my bedroom door. I shut the door behind me and sat on my bed. Bruce is going to be infuriated with me. I looked on my laptop for places for Jason, our baby and I. How the hell I going to tell Jay? I remember our last night together. The release, the comfort and the beating of our hearts touching. We used a condom, always do but things happen. His voice ringing in my head 'I'll be back soon I promise' he'll be back. I suddenly began crying missing Jason, I need him. I want him to hold me. I have been trying to call him for so long but nothing. He left to help Roy with a mission. That was a three months ago. I yawn, I feel so exhausted. Sleeping as been so much harder. I shut my laptop and put it beside me. I laid back leaning on my pillows... That morning I opened my eye's feeling nauseated, and my breast sore. I stood stepping to my full length mirror. I lifted my shirt off. I gave to my small bump. There's only so much time I have until it'll be evident that I'm pregnant. I put on one of Jason's t-shirts and my shorts with pockets. I walked down the stairs and went outside for privacy. I call the doctors office to set my appointment. As I finished the call I hang up and put my phone in my pocket. I turned to the entrance seeing, Damian! Shit. By the look on his face I know he heard every word I said.

"Dami.." what do I say?

"tt I'm telling Richard" he said

"Damian do not tell anyone!" I demanded "I don't want anyone to know, at least for right now" I pleaded

He folds his arms glares at, me "tt it's not unlikely you can hide you're gaining wei--" I cut him off

"for once could you not be inconsiderate!" I snapped

His scoffed with a genuine hurt look on his face. I shouldn't have said that. I usually never lost my temper with him.

"Dami--I.. I'm sorry I lost my temper. My hormones are driving me insane" I said softly

He sighs heavily "is this why you have been ill?"

"yeah" I sigh, remembering yesterday "didn't mean to worry you the other day when I threw my breakfast up and probably last night's dinner to"

"I was not concerned" he lied, I could see right through that kid "is there anything else that you will be withstanding?" he asked bluntly

He doesn't know anything about pregnancy. I sit on the side of the lounge chair and pat beside me. Damian scoffed and sits by me.

Damn, how do I say this? "did Bruce, Alfie or Dick ever tell you about?..." I stammer, this is so awkward. I so do not want to give him the talk 'the birds and the bee's' talk.

He shakes his head in disgust "yes! Don't be absurd. I am aware of such. I have a girlfriend and am practically grown!" he defended

"ok! Good" I take a deep breath "so I guess after that thing happens when two people make a baby. Things change in a woman's bod- my body to be exact. My hormones are increased. I feel a nausea, headache sometimes" wanting to spare Damian from being grossed out. With as little as information about pregnancy I could. The minutes went by as I explained appropriately how my body is changing and about the eventual birth.

As I finish he takes a deep breath "will you be in pain when you are to give birth?" he sympathetically asked

"yes" I truthfully answered his face physically drops. I touch his shoulder "but don't you worry I'll be fine I promise" I assured him

He rolls his eye's "tt, I am not.. I still can not comprehend why you are keeping this in such secrecy" I lower my hand from his shoulder

Truthfully I am afraid of rejection from my family, but also "well because it's a big change. It means, no more patrol or missions for me"

"what?!" appalled he stood and extended his arms "that is absurd!"

"what? You gonna miss me" I chuckled

"tt, no I only.." Damian stammered folding his arm's with a huff and looking at the ground. He lied.

I guess I should tell him worst case scenario "Dami, patrol or missions are dangerous enough" don't cry! "if something happens I might could lose my baby" I stutter under my breath fighting tears scared to my core I'd lose Jason's and I baby.

His face drops and eyebrows narrow "I was, perhaps being too inconsiderate.. It is only, other than Richard" he takes a swift breath "you are the only bearable.. friend I have"

My heart melts that the kindest thing he ever said to me. Don't cry! He sits back down by me.

"Aww, Dami" I softly said

"tell anyone and I will...." he stammered and scoffed unable to come up with a insult. I chuckle he rolls his eyes "as I was saying Drake and Brown anger me to my core. I can not promise not to end them"

I roll my eyes and laugh. I look at my worried little brother "how about this? When patrol gets super annoying or hard for whatever reason. You can come hang out with me and have some quality uncle time with my baby"

"truly?" he asked softly

I nodded smiling "of course"

Damian swiftly hugged my neck. I chuckled and hugged my baby brother. He swiftly parted and gazed to me with worry.

"wait does Todd know of this" his face angers "because if he left you--" I cut him off

"Damian, he doesn't know" I sadly said missing, Jason.

With night fallen I sit in my bedroom. I hear my phone a text from, Damian. I open his message.

(Damian)- I fear that your absence from patrol as been noticed by our family-

-thank you for the warning. I should have known that I'd eventually run out of luck-

#batfamily #Jason Todd X Reader #Jason Todd #Damian Wayne X Batsis! Reader #Batsis! Reader #Batsis #Pregnancy #Unplanned pregnancy #Morning sickness #Batfamily #Worried Damian Wayne #Worry

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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rolandtowen · 3 years

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three times Zuko comes into the Jasmine Dragon coffee shop, and one time Sokka leaves with him. Set in the Neurodiverse Zukka AU, but can read as a standalone.

*banging pots and pans together* "Come over here and get yall Neurodiverse Zukka!"

Read it on Ao3 or under the cut!

TW: discussions of skin picking and implied child abuse

When Sokka pulls into the parking lot of the Jasmine Dragon, he is unsurprisingly the first car there. Being a freshman in town means getting the worst pick of shifts at local businesses. Sokka was hired on to work the opening shift, which means he wakes up at the ungodly hour of 5am to open the shop before the first round of sleep-deprived college students comes in. The pay isn't bad, Mr. Iroh is an incredibly fair man,

The bell on the door jingles on his way in, and he flips several light switches on, watching as the coffee shop slowly comes to life. He busies himself with getting the beans for the day grinding, pulling his first shot and dialing in the expresso. When he takes a sip, the espresso is spot on for the day, which is a relief. Having to make adjustments as customers start filing in is a nightmare.

Today's brew is floral and citrusy, so he decides to make himself and iced lavender latte - with oat milk, of course, because he's gotta do it for the gays - and he spends the next 20 minutes setting out pastries and fiddling with the display cases, making everything look perfect.

At 6am sharp, Sokka unlocks the front door and flips their sign to open, before retreating behind the bar to nurse his latte. Not even five minutes later, the door bell jingles, and Sokka sees a flash of dark hair, face obscured by a pile of textbooks and binders. The figure runs into one table, and then another, and Sokka is rushing out from behind the counter. He gets there just before textbooks go toppling everywhere, his hands taking a firm hold of the top bundle. As he pulls the books into his arms, he sees the face behind them.

Breathtaking golden eyes.

And.. a massive burn scar.

"Hi!" Sokka says, "I'm the barista on shift today - my name's Sokka." He would reach his hand for the other man to shake, but for the stack of textbooks in them.

Golden Eyes smiles.

"I'm Zuko, Zuko Sozin," he says, setting his remaining textbooks on the table by his side. Sokka follows suit.

"Hey, I think I've seen you before - are you taking Piandao's Intro to Biology class?"

"Uh, yeah - yeah! You sit a few rows in front of me." Zuko laughs. "Your doodles are uh, something alright."

Sokka knocks him good-naturedly on the shoulder. "I gotta keep my hands busy for my brain to focus." He looks down at the stack of books on the table. "What on earth are you studying, to have that many books?"

"Uh, Biology and Chemistry double-major, Pre-Med track." Sokka's eyes widen. "It's really not that much! I got a bunch of stuff out of the way with AP credits."

Sokka raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, it is a lot - but I'm really passionate about it. I want to be a doctor."

"Well, Dr. Sozin, what can I get started for you today?"

"Can I get a iced matcha, with a lot of honey?"

Sokka raises his other eyebrow. "A doctor with a sweet tooth?"

"Kind of?"

"Don't worry, I won't rat you out to your dentist. An iced matcha with extra honey?" Zuko nods and Sokka smiles. "You got it, doc."

ii.

Sokka falls into a routine at the Jasmine Dragon. He opens the shop every morning, and every morning of the fall semester so far, Zuko Sozin comes in at precisely 6:05am. Zuko will order an iced matcha with honey, and sits at a table by the window with his laptop and at least two textbooks open at all times. Then, at 11:50am - Sokka guess he has a class that starts at noon - Zuko leaves the shop, always making sure to throw his spare change into Sokka's tip jar.

He's so beautiful.

On a slow day, Sokka comes out from behind the safety of the counter and works up the courage to ask Zuko if he can study with him. Zuko looks shocked at first, but his lips quirk up in a smile as he gestures for Sokka to sit in the chair across from him, moving his textbooks to make room for Sokka's one book and laptop.

"What are you studying, Sokka?" Zuko appears to be genuinely interested.

"Oh, uh, social work, with a concentration in mental health." Sokka waits for Zuko to laugh at him. It never comes. He looks up at him over their laptops.

"That's really cool."

"You think so?"

"Yeah! I mean, some pre-med majors can be really pretentious, really dismissive of mental illness, but um - not me. I don't really have that luxury." Zuko laughs, as though at a joke with himself. "What's the Intro to Biology for, then?"

"Not all of us got our common core out of the way with AP credits, like some nerd I know." Zuko smiles at that, and looks back down at his laptop screen.

Sokka pulls his keys from his pocket and starts fidgeting with the stim toy he keeps on his keychain as he reads through his latest assignment for his Mental Illness and Society class. He bought it on Etsy, relieved to find a neurodivergent-owned shop after scrolling through a lot of stores that just seemed to be hopping on the 'trend' of selling fidget toys. He flips to the next page in his textbook, popping the buttons back and forth in a steady rhythm. He remembers Zuko's sitting across from him and stops abruptly.

"Is this annoying? Do you want me to stop?"

Zuko just cocks his head. "Why would I get a say in what you do? It's kind of your shop, right?"

"Um, to be polite?" Sokka laughs. "And you would be surprised how many customers I get who think they get to tell me what to do." His eyes settle on the half drunk latte in front of him. "It's not really my shop either, I just work the early morning shifts so Mr. Iroh can sleep in. If you ever get to stay past noon sometime, you'll see him come in. You can't miss him, short guy, talks in riddles. He's older, a war vet I think - I just get that impression from some of the stories he tells me. But anyway, did you want me to stop fidgeting?" Sokka looks back up to meet those golden eyes.

Zuko glitches for a second. "Oh! No, no, go for it - if it helps you to study, I'm all for it."

Sokka smiles, and looking at the way Zuko keeps picking at his cuticles gives him an idea. He digs into his backpack and pulls out another stim toy, an acupressure ring. ""Do you want to try this instead of maiming your hands?"

Zuko hesitantly holds out a hand and Sokka drops it into his palm. "You don't have to."

Sokka scoffs. "I know I don't have to - I want to. Come on, I wear it on my thumb sometimes -" and suddenly he's taking Zuko's hands into his and getting very close to Zuko's face. Zuko can smell espresso on his clothes and Sokka's hands are so warm against his. Calloused, sure, but warm. He holds Zuko's right hand gently, pressing the spiky ring onto his thumb. "And you can rub it back and forth with your pointer finger and it gives you that kind of prickly sensation that you get from skin picking, just without the skin picking." Sokka pulls his hands away and Zuko immediately misses them. "Give it a shot, tell me what you think."

Zuko tentatively rolls the ring over his thumb. Huh. The cute barista's right, the acupressure gives him that same prickly, scratchy feeling that picking at his nails and cuticles does. "Wow," he says, "I think you've converted me."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Then keep it, I've got a thousand more where that came from, ADHD perks."

Zuko instinctively opens his mouth to protest but the words die in his throat.

"You, you have ADHD?" He stops rolling the ring across his thumb.

"Yup." Sokka's lips popped on the 'p', and he turned to the next page in his textbook. "And I'm pretty sure you've got some spicy stuff happening your brain, too. But you don't have to tell me."

"How are you so open about it?"

Sokka's hand stills around the fidget. "My parents never treated me like I was deficient in any way - my brain just works differently, which means I have trouble with some 'normal' stuff. But I also strengths in areas that others don't have naturally. Accommodations aren't anything to be ashamed of."

"Sounds nice." All of the levity drops out of Zuko's voice.

Sokka levels a look at Zuko. He lets his eyes flit to the right side of Zuko's face and the scar there. He's seen it so many times, and the burns look so concentrated, almost... intentional. His stomach churns at the thought. The scar's old... and Zuko's at college now, he has to be safe - he has to be.

"Like I said, you don't have to tell me." Sokka's hand starts to fidget with the buttons again. "But I have it on good authority that I am a good listener."

"I'll... I'll keep that in mind." Zuko looks down at his hands, fingers rolling the ring back and forth against his thumb. "Thank you."

"Anytime, doc."

iii.

Somehow, fumbling through their collective social awkwardness, they manage to swap numbers.

At the end of the fall semester, Sokka texts Zuko for the first time.

S: hey, im gonna be a few minutes later. don't worry, im still coming.

Z: okay. thank you.

When Sokka finally pulls into the parking lot fifteen minutes late, he sees Zuko waiting outside the door, sitting on a bench, head buried in one of his chemistry textbooks.

"Hey," he puts his keys in the door. "You can just come in while I open, it won't take too long."

Zuko follows him inside, and he closes the door against the chill.

"You didn't have to text me," Zuko says, like it's a question.

"I wanted to," Sokka starts flipping on light switches. "I know you've got your routine, and I didn't want to stress you out when it got messed up."

"Why would that matter to you?"

"Um, I don't want you to be stressed? I kind of care about you."

"You... you care about me?" Zuko stands in the middle of the coffee shop, unmoving.

Sokka smiles. "Yeah, I think I do."

"Why?"

"I think we could be friends?"

"Oh." Zuko's face falls for a second - what Sokka has come to understand is his 'processing' face - and he looks back up a second later. "I think we could be friends too."

"Friendship with a barista has great perks, you know." Sokka laughs as he starts up the grinder. "Although the perks of a social worker friend aren't too bad either."

"How's that going? With your first semester ending?" Zuko sits on a stool at the bar and watches Sokka putter around behind it.

"Well, I'm going to pass Intro to Biology, not for lack of trying on Piandao's part - I swear he's trying to weed out all the humanities kids. It isn't even a weed out course!" He polishes an espresso glass furiously. "How are you doing?"

Zuko chokes. "Oh, I'm - I'm fine, you know it's a hard class and all -"

"You're getting an A, aren't you?" Sokka squints at him from behind a bag of coffee beans. "Curve breaker," he scoffs.

"Hey, it's not my fault that I'm, what did you call it? A 'burnt-out gifted kid with people pleasing tendencies'." Zuko crosses his arms and huffs at the memory of that conversation. Sokka had read him like a picture book. And it was not fair for one person to be that good at emotions.

"You are correct, I did indeed call you that." Sokka pulls the first shot of the morning. "And it looks like I was right."

"You know what you said the other week, about being a good listener?"

"Sure do," Sokka takes a sip of the espresso, swishing it around in his mouth before spitting it out. "What's on your mind?"

"Well, if we're going to be... friends, I just think you'd want to know that - I'm autistic." Zuko stares at Sokka searching his face for any cues about what the next words out of his mouth will be, waiting for the facade of friendship to drop. He furiously rolls the acupressure ring up and down his thumb.

"Okay, that's great!"

"...what."

Zuko's hands freeze and he squeezes the ring against his skin, feeling the pressure increase.

"That's great, I'm glad you felt safe enough to tell me that. I kind of guessed your parents weren't as accommodating as mine?"

Zuko laughs something sour. "No, no they were not." He looks up in surprise as Sokka puts an iced matcha, extra honey, in front of him. "You're right though, I do feel safe here. I feel safe with you." Zuko looks down at the acupressure ring on his thumb, softening his grip. "You could have totally ignored me, but you didn't. Or you could've been mean about my quirks - but you weren't. Why?"

"Well, for starters, you tip well." Sokka smiles and leans across the counter, bracketing Zuko's elbows in with his own. "But you're also a really great guy - you're passionate, you want to make people's lives better, and you're also like, really beautiful."

Zuko feels his cheeks flush. "You really think that?" His fingers still against the fidget again, but he doesn't feel the need to press it into his skin. He's captivated by Sokka's words. Surely, Sokka couldn't actually mean -

"Oh, yeah. Every bit." Sokka brushes his hand against one of Zuko's, the one with the fidget ring. "Can I hold your hand?"

"Yes, please, yes." After weeks, Sokka's hand is back in his, and Zuko thinks he's going to implode. "Can, can you hold both of my hands? With both of your hands?"

"Of course," Sokka's positively beaming, grabbing Zuko's hands and running his thumbs across his knuckles. "Now you're absolutely allowed to say no to my next question, and there are no hard feelings."

"Yes?"

"Can I kiss you?"

"Fuck yes."

The iced matcha is forgotten.

+ i

Sokka's feet hurt like hell. Mr. Iroh had called in him to work a double on Friday, and since he doesn't have any classes on Fridays, he foolishly agreed.

It won't seem so foolish once you see the paycheck, he reminds himself. He and Zuko have a deal. Zuko pays for his medical school with his job shelving books at the University library, and Sokka pays for their tiny apartment by caffeinating all of the other broke college kids in town. By some miracle, they seem to be able to make it work. Zuko graduated into the medical college a year early, which helps with tuition costs, and of course his brilliant boyfriend got all kinds of scholarships.

Sokka is indescribably proud of him.

The door bell jangles just as Sokka is wiping the crumbs off the last cafe table. "Hey, we're starting to close up for the night, so it'd better be a to-go order," he calls over his shoulder.

"Even for me?"

"Zuko!" Sokka drops his cloth immediately and spins around, pulling Zuko into a hug. Zuko taps the small of his back when he's ready to let go, and Sokka lets him go, beaming. "You came to visit me at work?"

"More like I picked up your favorite soup dumplings from Haru's across the street and thought we could walk home together?" Zuko shrugs, gesturing to the brown paper bag in his arms. "How's that sound to you?"

"Baby, that's just what I needed today." Sokka picks up his cleaning supplies. "Okay, I just need to put all of this away and then we can lock up and go home, how's that?"

"Great," Zuko smiles at him. "I may have also picked up some more Doctor Who DVDs from the library," he smirks.

"Oh, you trickster!" Sokka yells from the kitchen, before appearing again. "You used my one weakness, pork soup dumplings, against me in order to get your nerdy way."

"Oh, big talk coming from the guy who watches astronomy documentaries for fun," Zuko laughs as Sokka leads him out of the shop, switching off the lights and locking the door behind him. "If it were up to you, we'd be watching Cosmos all weekend, and I can only take so much of Neil deGrasse Tyson explaining the peculiarities of the moon."

"Hey, the moon is cool!"

"You are correct, the moon is very cool. It's freezing, because it's a rock. In space. With no atmosphere. Or life." Zuko deadpans, earning a light punch on the shoulder from Sokka.

"Fine, you get Doctor Who tonight, but Saturday is going to be all PBS Nova, baby. Brace yourself." Sokka takes Zuko's free hand into his as they start the walk home.

"Well, as long as you're there, I'm happy."

Notes:

fidgets in this work were inspired by those from shop StimBox

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courtney-deserved-better · 3 years

Note

whats ur writing schedule/process like! not in a “write faster” way, but i think once you mentioned writing in script form? and i like the way you wrote ur most recent fic! just curious bc ur works are just really good :)

this is a great question!!

if its not slippery slopes, ill usually get an idea for something and periodically jot down notes when they come to me until I feel like i have enough information to start writing (or if im just motivated), that's what i did for my horror challenge rewrite. and for stuff that's like... rewrites of an episode that aren't as character-focused as slippery slopes, i usually read the episode transcripts and try to replicate that total drama style with my own writing

for shorter oneshots, i usually just get a vague idea and run with it until i find a good ending spot, then i go back and clean it up a bit so the structure works

slippery slopes is an... interesting cycle. chapters are getting long enough that i cant just write them in one sitting any more (i think ch5 was the last chapter i did that for) and instead ill agonize over the beginning (always the hardest part to write for me) but once i get going with that i usually finish the chapter within a few days. then i reread the previous chapter to make sure it flows ok (and there aren't any contradictions) and then ill give myself a break where i dont do anything total drama related before coming back to edit and post. though before I do all that I type up notes and rough dialogue bits

and then once i post it it's like... a weight off my chest? like ive been purged or something?? idk its a weird sensation but im just like i Physically Cannot Write Anything For This Right Now and i don't start on the next chapter until that goes away. and then i either start the beginning and do nothing for a week before going back and finishing the chapter or i go into a manic state and write nonstop for a few days. right now i haven't reached a point where im ready to begin writing chapter 10 but i have a lot of notes for it.

(also as soon as i finish posting a chapter i try not to go on my laptop for like 12 hours so i don't obsessively refresh my email for comments. i love reading comments so much holy shit. please comment guys it makes fic authors feel so happy we will love you for it)

as for scripts: i am working on being a writer professionally, but specifically a playwright. writing in a script format comes more naturally to me than writing prose. funnily enough, i started posting fanfic just to practice my prose (and fix stuff in cobra kai that i didnt like) but things sort of... ended up here? idk man but im enjoying it.

right, so because writing in a script format is easier when im really struggling with a section in a fic ill usually scrap whatever i had and write it like a script, then translate that into prose. i was very excited to write the family videos for chapter 9 of slippery slopes, but i was Having Issues, so i redid it as a script and then rewrote that as prose. ill put the script version under the cut if you're interested in that.

but thank you so much for the question!! i do think my writing process is a bit unconventional but hey i think things are turning out well! if you have any more questions feel free to send them in!!

ok here is the last scene of ch 9 of slippery slopes in script format:

[SIERRA]

MOM: Hi honey! Omigosh this is so exciting! I bet you’re having such a great time! Especially since Chris is there! Is Chris watching this? Hi Chris! You know, I loooved you on that ice skating show. Your hair was fantastic! Well, it always is, haha. Do you really make your own hair gel? I’ve been trying to perfect the recipe but you’re just so hard to track down! Oh, you’re such a funny guy! I laughed sooo hard when you made all those jokes about marrying Chef.

Chef: hey!

Chris: ok just for the record, I wasn’t joking, we are married, Sierra tell your mom we’re married

Sierra: …can we just turn it off please

[COURTNEY]

DAD: Courtney, sayang, I know you’ve been going through a lot right now—

MOM: So you’d BETTER make it count. You’ve made it this far before, I want to see you getting all the way to the finale this time. And winning it. Enough moping about those hideous, good-for-nothing slackers! That’s what you get for hanging around freaks like them. You’re doing this for the million, now get the million. Is that clear?

ZARINA: And kick ass!

DAD: Zarina!

Video cuts out.

Alejandro: courtney you good?

Courtney: no, she’s right. Mama didn’t raise no quitter

Alejandro: [knows she’s still upset about duncan and gwen]

[ALEJANDRO]

MOM: Hola, Alejandro. We hope you are doing well, especially in such unsavory conditions. I’m glad to see you’ve made it to the final four— we expected nothing less, of course.

DAD: You have been utilizing your skills quite well. Though I wish you hadn’t been so… blatant about it. You’ll have to work twice as hard once this is over to convince people you’re trustworthy. But surely you were aware of that going into this… odd endeavor. That’s just politics. Reputation is everything.

JOSE: [snorts] Oh, and what a reputation you have, Al. I could easily compile hours of footage of your failures, but I, unlike you, do not waste my time on the frivolities of reality television. Though you always have been lacking in taste. Especially with that bratty girlfriend of yours— oh, my mistake, aren’t you dating the whiny weakling? It’s so hard to keep track! [laughs]

Alejandro: callate!

MOM: I’m sure Alejandro is just working an angle on them.

DAD: Whatever the case is, do not disappoint us.

[NOAH]

MOM: Hi Noah, I’m sorry, I don’t have time to record a full video, but I’m proud of you! Here are your sisters!

ISWARI: A million dollars? A million [bleep] dollars? Win it, Noah! Win it!

RUTH: Dude!! This is crazy! I know you can do this— good luck! Ark misses you! [holds up Ark who barks]

MARA: Are you insane? Why aren’t you dating Alejandro already?

Noah: shut up, mara, just because you can’t keep a boyfriend—

ANYA: Don’t let ‘em trick you! No mercy! Crush their skulls if you have to— no, wait, you’re not strong enough for that. We’ll get there!

LIYA: I say this as your sister, someone who loves you but is constantly annoyed by you— for someone who is quite literally a genius, you sure can be an idiot sometimes.

BALLARI: Okay, I literally have no idea how you’ve made it this far without an athletic bone in your body— are we sure you aren’t adopted? I’m kidding

ABS: You’re stubborn as hell when it comes to me, so you better be stubborn as hell when it comes to winning! And when you do win, get me a frozen yogurt machine, will you? I promise I won’t make you rock climb again!

JAEL: If you lose this, I’ll kill you with this racket. And then use your guts to make myself a new racket. So don’t fuck it up. Again.

Noah: [frozen, ashamed]

Sierra: well that was a mess

Courtney: ok show of hands, who felt better after hearing that? [no one raises hands]

Chris: yeah I was expecting this to be a lot more heartwarming…

Chef: chris just look at them. If they had stable home lives they wouldn’t be doing reality tv

Alejandro: can we please stop talking about this. Also aren’t you supposed to be flying the plane

Chef: oh fuck

Chris: yeah sure. I think im gonna call my mom

Everyone: …

Noah: ok so that was really shitty. Why dont we all go to first class and try and ignore our problems

Everyone: yeah ok sounds good

***

Courtney: so that sucked

Alejandro: at least your dad seems ok

Courtney: true. What are your guys dads like

Noah and Sierra: bold of you to assume I know my dad. Jinx

***

Alejandro: that last girl… you mentioned a sister who does tennis and hates you

Noah: yep

Alejandro: why?

Noah: none of your business. but… it is pretty justified

#slippery slopes #ask #anon #total drama #writing #fic #my fic

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luxekook · 4 years

Text

chapter three.

⇥ pairing: ot7 x reader (insert gif of elmo with flames behind him here)

⇥ genre: college au with fluff, smut & angst

⇥ summary: a series in which the reader meets (and falls for) seven members of the Beta Tau Sigma (BTS) fraternity

⇥ word count: 2.3k

⇥ warnings: 18+, cursing, dirty talk, jimin propositions the reader accidentally, taehyung is a menace, noona kink jumps out A LOT, chaotic ot7, talk of poly relationships, overall kinda smut free (the next chapter should quench fuel your thirst)

Chapter Three

“It means that we’re going to date the shit out of you.”

We’re going to date the shit out of you.

We’re. Going. To. Date. The. Shit. Out. Of. You.

Those words play on a constant loop in my head for the rest of the week. After Namjoon had dropped that bombshell on me, I’d kind of freaked the fuck out, faked an immediate illness, and ran at full speed.

When I had told Luna about it later that night, she had been just as shook as me. Surprisingly enough, she had also given her full support of whatever I decided to do but “would have her banana slicer on standby and would order six more if need be”.

It appears that she had drunk-ordered a banana slicer off Amazon when the last boy she talked to pissed her off. I had apparently drunk-approved the decision. Rad.

Jenni’s reaction had been even better. We’d been in the library on Monday and her screech of “he said what!?” had led to multiple events:

An abundance of shushes from every student within a 50-yard radius

Her continued rant: “Your own personal harem! Can you say goals? Maybe I should infiltrate EXO and collect my own...”

Us getting kicked out by our ancient librarian

For the rest of the week, I had Luna and Jenni both giving me shit about the BTS boys. It had helped that I hadn’t run into them at all on campus between classes. But I had known it wouldn’t be long before my luck would run out...

Quinn Library – 2:31pm

Typically, I don’t spend my Friday afternoons deep within the stacks of the library’s quiet floor. Yet, here I sit typing frantically due to my incapability to stop procrastinating. My fingers fly over the keys of my aging MacBook in hopes that whatever spur of productivity I had going on is captured in its fullest.

General education classes could burn in the pits of hell as far as I'm concerned. If I wanted to be a psychiatrist, why did I have to take – and pay for – an art elective that I would likely never utilize in the workforce? Plus, the only class within the category that fit my schedule ended up being “Writing About Dance”.

Yeah, I’m still a tad bitter, but in all honesty the class isn’t that bad so far. It mainly consists of watching different dance performances and learning how to write about them in different styles.

Today’s assignment is to write critical commentary on videos of the university’s dance team that the professor provided for us. Sighing, I finish my review of the second to last dance video provided by the professor, take a quick second to stretch, and then open the link to the last video on the assignment page.

“Park Jimin – Final Performance Solo, Spring 2019”

Slack-jawed, I fall into wonder as Jimin moves through his routine flawlessly. He dances like it’s easier than walking to him. His movements are somehow precise and fluid all at once. I barely realize a few tears have run down my cheeks until the video cuts off, signaling the end of Jimin’s performance.

Jesus, (y/n), get it together. I laugh lightly as I dig in my backpack for a tissue. How could I possibly capture the ethereal beauty that Jimin exuded into words? Am I even worthy of commenting on such exquisiteness?

Definitely fucking not. And before I can second guess myself, I type: “Park Jimin is art in its purest form. Watching him dance is like watching the sun rise over the ocean – raw beauty accompanied by the hopes brought with a new day. His performance left me wanting for nothing except an encore.”

Boom. Submit Assignment.

As my email pings with the confirmation that my assignment is turned in, my eyes widen in realization. Park Jimin of BTS is a dance god, and he – allegedly – wants to date me? That is just ridiculously unfathomable.

Namjoon must be off his rocker.

Closing my laptop, my phone suddenly vibrates with an incoming notification from snapchat...

President_RM has added you!

Before I can even comprehend the absurdity of Namjoon adding me, my phone bursts into a series of buzzes. Cursing, I switch my phone to silent and check my screen.

minsuga93 has added you!

jhopeworld_ has added you!

handsomeJIN has added you!

JKookie97 has added you!

vantae_BTS has added you!

95jiminie has added you!

Are they serious? How did they even get my SnapChat username?

vantae_BTS has added you to a chat!

Curiosity wins out over aggravation as I swipe to open the chat.

Heart pounding, I fight the urge to chuck my phone into the depths of the bookcases winding around the room. What did those idiots want with me?

(y/n) & Luna’s Apartment – 9:45pm

“What do those idiots want with me?” the decibel my voice has risen to is shocking even to my ears.

Luna cringes, accordingly, “I can’t tell if that’s a rhetorical question...”

I steamroll onwards, “And don’t even get me started on how they could have even gotten my snapchat. It’s a complete invasion of privacy!”

“You could just ask them,” Jenni’s voice cuts through my rambling tirade.

I pause, “No, I couldn’t—”

...Or could I?

Turning on my heel, I rush into my room and head straight for my closet. Grabbing the nearest sweatshirt and pair of leggings, I tug them on and then grab my keys from my nightstand.

Whirling back into the living room, I storm past a dumbfounded Luna and Jenni, “Be right back.”

Opening the apartment door, Luna shouts, “Wait! Where are you going? You’re not even wearing shoes!”

Whoops. I glance at my feet and note that she is, in fact, correct.

Jenni bounds over to me holding my Doc Martens, “Here, babe. You’re going to the BTS house, aren’t you?”

I nod grimly and salute my two best friends as if I'm going into battle. “I won’t be long. I just have a small errand to run.”

“Well, you’re not going alone,” Luna declares, pulling on her sneakers.

Jenni snorts and shoves her feet into her beat-up Converse, “No way am I missing out on this action.”

As we head out the door, I link arms with Luna and Jenni, “Have I mentioned I love you both recently?”

“Right back at you, bitch,” Luna laughs.

Greek Row – 10:17pm

Ten minutes later, we reach Greek Row. Fraternity and sorority houses dot the street on both sides. Personally, I think of this street as home to the chaotic rich, and I tend to avoid it at all costs – except tonight.

The line to get into BTS is so long it wraps around the block. Students dressed in the latest fashions converse as they wait, huddling together in their groups. I glance down at my outfit of a worn university hoodie and leggings.

“Well, shit. We’re underdressed, huh,” Jenni deadpans, causing all three of us to burst into laughter, “Do you think they put you on the list, (y/n)?”

Pondering that thought, I shrug, “Maybe,” and begin marching past the line of waiting students towards the front door of BTS, “But I sure as fuck am not waiting in that line.”

“Hey, there’s a line here!”

“Yo, bitches! What are you doing?”

“What the fuck?”

Paying the hecklers no mind, I saunter right up to the BTS pledges guarding the door, “Hi, I need to talk to Kim Namjoon.”

The pledge on the right rakes his gaze over me incredulously and then makes the same assessment of Luna and Jenni, “You know this is a party, right?”

I don’t deem that comment worthy of a response and instead cross my arms over my chest. He shrinks under the collective glare of me, Luna and Jenni.

The pledge on the left awkwardly clears his throat, “Names, please?”

My answer barely escapes my lips before the pledges visibly straighten, looking at me with new eyes, “You’re (y/n)? Why didn’t you just say so?”

And before I can answer, the front door swings open for us.

People are everywhere. A haze of smoke looms in the air, and rap music blares from the speakers. The bass is turned up so loud that the beat seems to take over the rhythm of my pulse. That cannot be healthy.

Turning to my friends, I do my best to communicate, shouting, “I’m going to find them! Are you going to be here?”

Luna and Jenni exchange a look and nod. Jenni shouts back, “We’re going to get some drinks. Might as well capitalize on free booze! Text us when you’re ready to go.”

And with that, we part ways.

Maneuvering around the sea of gyrating bodies in the main living room area, I scan around for any signs of my seven menaces.

“Do my eyes deceive me? Or is that my future wife?” The deep voice booms from behind me.

I sigh, recognizing the voice, and turn around.

Kim Taehyung is striding towards me with his arms outstretched, smiling like the damned fool he is and looking like he just stepped off the runway for Gucci. “Come to daddy.”

An idea forms. I smile sweetly and walk to meet Taehyung halfway. His boxy grin widens and just as he thinks I'm going to let him wrap his arms around me, I grab him by the ear.

“Ouch!” He cries, “Devil-woman!”

Ignoring him, I drag him behind me towards the stairs.

“If you wanted to get me alone, you could have just asked—OW!”

My hold on his ear tightens as we arrive on the second-floor landing, “Where are your brothers?”

“I don’t know, n-noona!” Somehow the honorific coming from Tae sounds divine, but I file that thought away for another time.

Removing my hold, I corner him against the wall of the hallway, “Okay, Kim, here’s what is going to happen. You’re going to point me in the direction of your room, go find your six idiot brothers, and then report back here so I can finally understand what the fuck is going on. Got it?”

My chest heaves as my directions conclude and I realize how close together we are. Taehyung stares at me with an indecipherable expression before breaking into a slow smile, “Noona is bossy.”

“Noona is going to shove her foot up your ass if you don’t get moving,” I growl.

“Kinky,” he laughs, backing away from me and my brewing anger, “Last door on the left is my room. I’ll be back with the six idiots.”

As he thumps back down the steps, I close my eyes and count to ten, trying to steel my nerves and rein in my anger. When I open them, my eyes are met with the amused gaze of Min Yoongi.

Slapping a hand to my heart, I wait for my pulse to settle from being scared out of my wits, “Motherfuck—how did you even move that silently?”

“It’s a skill,” Yoongi drawls, nodding towards to end of the hall, “So, group meeting in Tae’s room?”

Shooting him the best side-eye I can muster, I stalk past him, steadfastly ignoring the chuckles and light footfalls that follow behind me.

Throwing open the door which Taehyung indicated was to his room, I pause, taking in the horde of photos and art taped to the four walls. The light blue wallpaper barely peeks through the absolute massive amount of artwork.

“It’s overwhelming at first, isn’t it?” An angelic voice shyly breaks through my reverie, “Tae likes to collect pictures and things he finds beautiful.”

“Ah, so that’s why we’re friends.” The joke is followed by a laugh that can only be compared to the sound of a windshield wiper squeakily moving back and forth.

I shift my eyes from Taehyung’s walls and onto the two newcomers – Park Jimin and Kim Seokjin.

Meeting Seokjin’s gaze first, I cannot help but agree that he is a very, very beautiful man. With pushed back dark hair, mischievous brown eyes and impossibly broad shoulders, Seokjin can easily be mistaken for an idol. And, oh fuck, I’m still staring.

Shooting my eyes back up to his, I crinkle my nose at his shit-eating grin. Before he can even comment, I turn and lock eyes with Jimin.

“Your dancing is gorgeous,” I blurt out and immediately want to crawl under a rock and live out the rest of my life as Patrick Star.

Yoongi and Seokjin are cackling as Jimin’s face lights up at my embarrassing compliment, “You really think so?”

“There's no shutting him up now,” Yoongi is in tears, “Watch out, (y/n). Jimin loves his fans.”

“Shut up, Yoongi-hyung!”

Jimin looks ready to swing, but luckily Taehyung chooses the right moment to return, “What have we missed? Why is Jiminie about to fight Yoongi? I’ll put $10 on hyung.”

Gasping in betrayal, Jimin sits on the edge of Tae’s bed and pouts.

The rest of the boys file in behind Taehyung as he flops down onto his bed and reclines like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

“Hi, (y/n). Good to see you again. I’m glad you’re here,” Namjoon greets me with a slight bow, a crooked smile and wicked eyes.

He’s followed closely by Jung Hoseok, the only BTS boy I hadn’t met thus far, “(y/n)! It’s so nice to meet you in person! Wow, you look so pretty tonight!”

“Noona always looks pretty,” Jungkook cuts in, throwing an arm around Hoseok’s shoulder, “She’s bae.”

A collective groan arises from the rest of the boys. “Sit your ass down, JK,” Yoongi grumbles, “(y/n)’s going to break up with us before we even start dating.”

“Dating—!” I break off that train of thought. Other matters need to be attended to first, “No, I didn’t come here tonight to say ‘hi’ or to be your ‘bae’. I came here to get answers.”

I take my time making eye contact with each boy.

Taehyung is still spread out on his bed and Jimin has now joined him. Seokjin, Hoseok and Jungkook are sprawled out on the floor at the foot of the bed, while Namjoon and Yoongi slouch against the opposite wall of the bedroom facing me.

“Alright,” Namjoon lifts his chin, meeting my stare head on, “What do you want to know?”

a/n: sorry for the cliffhanger, hehe. i wanted to get something up for y’all! hopefully next chapter won’t take too long to finish/edit :)

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blogs that wouldn’t let me tag them for some reason:

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