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bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky · 2 years

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House Call | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi, friends! I've been wiring a lot of angst lately, so here's a nice fluffy one for you :)

If you like my stuff throw me a reblog 🥰

Warnings: fluff, mentions of medication, sleepy Bucky

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A quaint, adorable cabin appeared almost like magic as Bucky turned down a private dirt road. The house sat secluded beneath massive sycamore trees, their leaves aglow with the colors of fall. The whole thing seemed too good to be true, too picturesque to even be real. Neither you nor Bucky could believe that Clint had such a gorgeous place, or that he was nice enough to lend the house out for the long weekend. But he’d done so without hang ups- except one.

He made you promise that your trip wouldn’t include sex on the kitchen counter of his vacation home. “Oh, come on!” Bucky elbowed Clint in the ribs, “I’ve been looking forward to kitchen counter sex for weeks!”

But after the four-hour drive, neither you nor Bucky felt like doing the deed. You’d left right after your final meeting of the day, hoping to beat the rush hour traffic- with no such luck. The two of you sat in a bumper-to-bumper nightmare that seemed to last an eternity. People honked and cursed at each other as tempers flared, but you and Bucky were in your own little world. With anyone else at the wheel, you would’ve been fed up after the first hour.

But being with Bucky only brought you happiness, even if you were trapped in gridlock traffic. You’d been missing him terribly lately, seeing him less and less as things with the Flag Smashers came to a head. But now that the situation had calmed down, Bucky was all yours.

“Hey- gimme that”, Bucky narrowed his eyes at you with faux-annoyance and snaked your bag from your hand, “I got it, sweets”. You rolled your eyes at him like you always did, but his chivalrous tendencies made you feel special. He always insisted on carrying your things and offering you his coat as though it were still 1940. And you let him. You loved his sweet, old-fashioned nature. He was thoughtful and polite, and always always put you first.

“Thanks, Buck”. Pressing up on your tiptoes, you left a kiss on his cheek, “Such a gentleman.”

Like always, Bucky opened the door for you and insisted you enter first. When Clint had described the place as “charming”, he wasn’t kidding. It was cozy and warm with a welcoming air that drew you in immediately. Soft blankets, warm wood, and a massive brick fireplace combined to create a perfect getaway. An overwhelming sense of comfort wrapped you in a hug as you thought about sipping hot cocoa by the fire with Bucky. Laura had obviously furnished the space with heaps of love, and managed to create the perfect space for a long weekend away.

“Oh my god, this place is adorable”, you turned to Bucky, excitement setting your eyes alight. “Can we live here? I think we should live here. I don’t think Clint will mind”.

Bucky covered his face and let out a booming laugh, “yeah, doll. I think Clint would love that.” He couldn’t wait to spend a few uninterrupted days with his best girl in the secluded cabin. He missed you so much that it actually hurt. Being away for so long caused a physical ache in his chest that he swore would kill him if he spent one more day without you. He wanted to curl up in front of the fire with you in his arms and make up for all the time he’d spent without you by his side.

“How about we change into comfy clothes and get the fire started? Let’s get cozy, Sarge”. You shot Bucky a wink and snatched your bag from his shoulder, “I’ll be back in a sec”. Once you located the perfectly decorated master bedroom, you dug through your bag for your pajamas. Nothing sounded better than shedding your work clothes and slipping into something comfortable. These days, your sleepwear consisted of old shirts of Bucky’s, and Bucky was more than happy to give them to you. He loved seeing you wear his clothes. It made him almost as happy as his dog tags resting around your neck.

He’d been nervous to give them to you at first, fearing it was maybe too old-fashioned. But you’d accepted them without pause and threw the chain around your neck before Bucky could even blink. From then on, he never saw you without them. They rested comfortably on your chest no matter the occasion- you wore them proudly.

Just as Bucky knelt in front of the fireplace, your voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Shit shit shit shit shit,” he heard you mutter from the bedroom. Instant alarm set him on high alert. He flew to the bedroom with his heart in his throat, fearing he’d find you in a pool of your own blood. But when he finally burst through the bedroom door, there was no blood in sight. You sat on the edge of the bed with your bag on your lap, your hands digging through it with like a dog in search a buried bone.

“Is everything alright, doll?”

“What?” Your head snapped in Bucky’s direction, “Oh, yeah. I’m good”. You forced a smile to your face that made your cheeks ache, but Bucky saw right through you.

“Are you sure about that, sweets? Cause you just said ‘shit’ like eleven times.”

With a huff, you conceded. “It’s fine- it’s not a big deal. I just forgot one of my meds, that’s all.” You threw Bucky an overly casual shrug, “my bad”.

But Bucky wasn’t going to allow you to downplay the issue, “Which one?”

“The one for my anxiety. But it’ll be fine. We’re only gonna be here for four days- missing those doses won’t kill me.” Once again, you diminished your problem. Bucky knew how important it was for you to remember to take your meds, and how shitty you’d feel if you missed four days’ worth.

“But isn’t that the pill that gives you, um…the brain thing? When you don’t take it, I mean. It gives you ‘brain buzzes’?”

Regardless of your situation, you couldn’t help but laugh. Bucky was just so sweet, so innocent and cute. “Close!” you laughed, “Brain zaps. I get brain zaps if I go without it for too long.”

Bucky‘s brow furrowed. He’d been with you long enough to know that four days without your medication was plenty of time for the brain zaps to set in. Thousands of thoughts crowded his mind as he tried desperately to find a solution to the problem, but you were in the middle of nowhere, four hours from home. He couldn’t run to the apartment and grab your pills or pop out to CVS and speak with a pharmacist about getting you four days’ worth of meds. All he wanted was for you to enjoy your little getaway, but the brain zaps threatened to ruin everything.

“Buck, you’re getting all worried. I can see it in your jaw…” You took Bucky’s face in your hands and gently massaged the tight muscles in his jaw until he finally released the tension. “This isn’t something to get upset about, I’ll be fine. I can push through! I went like two weeks without my meds once- I’ll live through four days.”

Bucky’s arms wound around you as you leaned into his body. He was always so good to you, so dedicated to taking care of every little thing. He wanted every moment you spent together to be more perfect than the last, and if you were going to be miserable without your meds, he needed to find a way to fix it.

A strong yawn took hold of you as you flicked your eyes toward the clock. “Come on, Buck. Let’s just go to sleep, okay? It’s late and we’re both tired- we’ll do fun cabin activities tomorrow”.

Regardless of the worry settling in Bucky’s stomach, he couldn’t help but smile when he saw you in your pajamas. You looked so perfect in his shirt, and his dog tags peeking out from beneath the collar was almost too much. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have you. When he’d finally made you his, he promised himself that he’d do everything in his power to make you as happy as humanly possible- and he was determined to keep that promise.

“I’m so glad we did this”, you crawled into bed and dropped a light kiss to Bucky’s lips. “You need a vacation. And I- I’ve really missed you…”

Bucky pulled you in close to his body, wrapping you in his strong, protective arms. Each time the world needed saving, it robbed him of his time with you. And while he hated the Flag Smashers for a long list of reasons, depriving him of his best girl took the number one spot.

“I know, sweets. I hate that I was away for so long, and I know I didn’t get to talk to you much while I was gone…” Bucky sighed as a twinge of guilt crept into his chest. He did his very best to communicate with you when he could on long missions, but free time was hard to come by. And if someone tracked his phone to get his location, he’d be dead before you’d even read his text.

“Buuuuuuuuuck…” you almost nagged him. You wriggled free from his grasp and took his face in your hands, pulling him so close that the tip of his nose brushed yours. “You don’t have to apologize- I know what to expect when you’re working. The only thing I care about is that you come home safe.”

Bucky’s forehead fell against yours, and his eyes fluttered shut as you ran your thumbs over his sharp cheekbones. These were the moments he missed most. Of course, he missed your museum dates and the long, sensual showers you shared- but nothing could quite compare to this. He missed the quiet intimacy. He missed hearing nothing but the sound of his heart and yours, beating almost in sync. Being away from you always knocked Bucky off-kilter, leaving him feeling eschew and unbalanced until he saw you again.

“I know, doll. I just- I want you to know how much I miss you when I’m gone. I don’t ever want to leave you- my job is just…different.” Bucky knew he could never make it up to you- all the time away and the days or weeks spent without contact. He knew he nearly stopped your heart every time he came home slick with blood and nearly dead.

“I know it’s hard on you, doll”.

“It’s hard on me? Buck, I’m not the one saving the world-”

“But you worry the entire time I’m gone. And then you worry when I come home hurt. And I know you’re always wondering when I’ll have to leave next. It takes a lot out of you.” Bucky knew you too well. He saw right through the casual shrug you threw his way, the small smile that tried and failed to hide just how emotionally exhausted you were.

He knew just how hard you worked to keep things together while he was away. If the situation were reversed, he’d be incapable of carrying on as he waited for you to return home. But you managed to keep a brave face, to support him and care for him in a way he never imagined.

Bucky never let an opportunity to express his gratitude pass, “I just want you to know that I notice. And I appreciate you- so much, baby.”

Without words, you migrated your head down to his chest. If Clint allowed it, you’d permanently move into this quiet, cozy cabin with Bucky. The two of you would live out your days in the warm peace of the deep forest and the crackling fire.

“Well, I love you, Buck. I’d do anything for you…” And with that, you drifted off to sleep. Having Bucky all to yourself in the safety of the small cabin set your anxiety as ease, ushering you to rest. For the next few days, you didn’t have to worry about Bucky’s next mission- or whether it would be his last.

Bucky smiled down at you as his fingers gently weaved in and out of your hair. “I love you, too, doll”, he knew you couldn’t hear him, but never dared ignore a chance to tell you. He laid like that for a long while, just admiring your serene expression and your sleepy sounds.

Just like you’d said, you’d do anything for Bucky. And he’d do the same for you. And so, with you lying fast asleep on top of him, Bucky made his move. He slowly snaked himself out from under your body, careful not to wake his best girl. He haphazardly threw on his clothes and laced up his boots before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead- a kiss that held a wordless promise to return before you woke. A strange appreciation for his Winter Soldier training cropped up as he stalked through the cabin and arrived at the car without making a sound- at least it had been good for something.

It was only a four-hour drive to the apartment- and that was with traffic. He figured he could make it there, grab your meds, and return to the cabin before you even stirred. He could then slide back into bed with you, satisfied that the brain zaps wouldn’t prevail.

But he underestimated just how tired he was, how long and winding the back roads near the cabin really were. And the drive simply wasn’t the same without you. He missed holding your hand and kissing at stoplights, listening you sing along to one of the many playlists you made him. But the dark, quiet ride was worth the exhaustion and boredom. He needed this long-awaited weekend to be perfect. He knew you’d been white-knuckling it for a while, watching from the sidelines as things with the Flag Smashers boiled over. You deserved to enjoy yourself.

Bucky sped through the night, determined to get you what you needed before sunrise.

Morning light bathed the bedroom in a golden glow, gently rousing you from your sleep. But you weren’t ready to get up just yet- you and Bucky promised to sleep in this weekend. With a quiet groan, you rolled away from the sun’s annoying rays, and planned to bury your face in Bucky’s chest. But after scrounging around with closed eyes for Bucky’s safe embrace, your search turned up empty. The sheets were cold and the room quiet, completely void of the quiet whirring of his arm.

“Buck?” you called into the quiet house, but received no reply.

A familiar dread settled into your chest as you crept through the silent cabin. It didn’t happen often, but there were times in the dead of night that Rhodes or Agent Hill needed Bucky last minute. They’d land a jet nearby and abduct him from your side- at least, that’s how it felt. He’d leave you a handwritten note in his sloppy, scrawling cursive, always saying that he didn’t want to wake you. He’d give you all his love and apologize for leaving yet again, and with a broken heart, you’d add his latest letter to the pile.

As you moved through room after room, you still hoped for the best. “Bucky?” you called again, struggling to keep it together. And just as you resolved that he’d left in the middle of the night to go save the world, a quiet whirring caught your attention. The sound instantly granted you peace.

You rushed around the corner and into the living room, only to discover a sleeping Bucky. He lay slumped in an armchair snoring quietly and wearing one unlaced boot. The other sat abandoned on the floor next to his car keys and jacket, painting a very strange picture. But as you struggled to make sense of the scene before you, a small orange bottle caught your eye.

An all-encompassing warmth eclipsed your senses as you stared down at him- the kindest person you’d ever known. Bucky’s massive hand gripped the anxiety meds you’d left behind, safely holding them to his chest. He was just too good- too sweet, too thoughtful, too selfless. No one had ever cared for you like this. No one had ever made you feel so loved, so seen. Bucky offered you all of his love, all of himself. He hated being away from you, but devoted all of his time to you when he was home. And this weekend trip was no different. It was his life’s mission to take care of you, and he’d done just that.

“Buck…” you whispered, “Bucky, baby, wake up”. Your hand cupped his cheek and traced his cheekbone with your thumb, pulling him gently out of his slumber.

He blinked a few times as he struggled to orient himself in the unfamiliar space, but your touch brought him all the clarity he needed. “Hey, sweetheart. Good morning…” he leaned into your touch and granted you a sleepy, dopey smile. Nothing was ever as cute as Bucky in the morning, with his disheveled hair and tired eyes.

“I um, I got you this…” Bucky presented you with your bottle of medication, “I didn’t want you to have brain zaps”.

Sometimes, Bucky was unbelievable. He was too good to be true. But he was true, and he was yours. “This is so- thank you. Thank you so much. You’re always so good to me.”

“I just wanted you to have a perfect weekend,” Bucky dropped his head forward, resting it against your abdomen.

“With or without brain zaps, this is already the perfect weekend. All I want is to be with you, Buck”. You ran your hands gently through his hair, scratching your nails gently against his scalp. “But I can’t thank you enough for this. You didn’t have to…but I really really appreciate it.”

Bucky gazed up at you with a love drunk grin. All he ever wanted was for you to be happy and safe and comfortable. He’d drive eight hours in the dark every night if it would make you smile. He always felt like he dropped the ball, like he was abandoning you to do SWORD’s dirty work. But the look on your face said everything he needed to hear.

“Here, let’s get you to bed”. With a gentle tug, you pulled Bucky’s remaining boot from his foot. “What, did taking off the first one tire you out? Was that the straw that broke the camel’s back?”

Bucky’s groggy laugh came out a low rumble, “yeah, guess so. I was just gonna get back in bed with you, but… you wouldn’t believe how tiring it is to take off a shoe”.

With both of Bucky’s feet free from their boots, you helped your super soldier from his armchair. And even though Bucky was the one who’d only slept for a total of half an hour, he insisted on carrying you to bed. His strong arms held you close to his chest, pressing your body against his heartbeat. You knew the sound so well it sometimes felt like your personal metronome.

Bucky stripped out of his clothes and finally crawled into bed with a deep sigh of relief. He’d thought about this moment from the second he pulled away from the house. “Get over here, Barnes”, you offered your arms to Bucky and allowed himself to rest his massive body atop yours. His head fell against your sternum and before you knew it, you’d both drifted off to sleep. You remained locked together for a long while, making good on your promise to sleep in.

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bulbagarden · 9 months

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Potentially silly question but worth asking: how much is what you post moderated? I’d assume very little (especially because this is tumblr. bulbagarden isn’t losing too much traffic if you’re not All That Hip And With The Kidz™️) but I am curious

no this is a good question!!! thanks for asking!

so currently it's only me (lisia) womaning the blog, but i do have a boss and other people who can give me advice when i'm not too sure if something is okay to post — my only big guidelines are to to be kind and to not swear.

i'm really lucky in that i've been allowed to inject a LOT of my personality into the blog itself — you'll find that our twitter has a very different vibe than the tumblr? and vice versa. i am just a simple magical girl~

but basically literally all of this is me? my main job here is to reblog cute art, but i also like to post stuff by myself too! like memes i make or pokémon go pics or polls or random thoughts or asks like these? i tag that kind of thing '#bulbalisia'!

essentially i have free reign over this blog? i've gotten experience over the past year or so i've been running it so i've started to get a feel (tm) over what's ok to post or not... i hope that answers your question!! if you have any more questions or anything pls feel free to ask!

#lisiask #bulbalisia #bulbagarden #thanks for the ask!! i lov getting them #ask #pokemon

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stevenbasic · 10 months

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GITJ Post 329: A Saturday at Melissa's, p4 (2pm: Alicia Ray)

“Thanks sooo much for coming in,” I told her, smiling my best but by this point gritting my teeth and just counting the moments ‘til she was gone, “you’re totally ready. You’re going to do great next week.”

Actually, there was something about this huge girl - Melissa Monroe, queen and manager of the medical practice that had been chosen as one of the hives for the movement and the clinic where I went to get my shots - that made me want to hug her. She was like a superhero, six and a half feet tall if she was an inch and body like a goddess. Ideal in so many ways and I felt an attraction to her, magnetic. But then there was also something about her that riled up some territorial she-wolfy instinct in me and made me want to claw out her eyes haha.

“Oh god thanks it’s been so fun!” she beamed, obviously still giddy the way people get when they do things like this. There’s a magic to knowing you’re going to be on TV, being behind the scenes, I get that. All the makeup, the cameras, the lights - it’s exciting when it’s new. I did this all the time, it was my job now, but to her it was cool and fun. Kind of adorable but her giddiness was getting on my nerves for some reason. I knew everyone else was wearing their masks around her like they’d been told, and they said I might feel this way: one queen reacting to the presence of another in her hive, so I figured I could just tough it out. Believe me I’d been through worse in my career haha, having to smile and primp the right way to the right men in making my transition from pageant winner (I was a former Miss Connecticut, had I mentioned that?) to traffic girl here at Channel 5. But now my career was not in the hands of men any more, I was on a - what’s the word? - trajectory up and up and up and headed for big things. Really big things. National things. They’d started to assemble a group around me - the new weather girl, the sports girl from what-they-tell-me-is-Kansas, along with Aly, Julie and the others - girls I’d be taking along with me as I moved up. But in the meantime, I still had to smile and do crap like this.

“It was fun!” I sang back as, finally, I did give her a hug. My own boobs, big as they were now, got squashed by the massive knockers this girl was packing in her top. Melissa Monroe was here at the station on a Saturday for a pre-interview, some photos, and a debriefing in prep for the piece the mobile team would be filming at the end of the week. There was a big construction project happening at the clinic, the pharmaceutical company that made my medicine was going to be expanding the practice throughout the whole building, and they wanted some press coverage for the grand opening of the new wings. That’s where my team, my haha hive of girls came in; they’d be doing an on-location piece this Friday. Thankfully, it wouldn’t be me at the site job. Now that I was an anchor, I didn’t have to do that sort of shit anymore. But still they wanted me to meet her, get some pictures together. “Here, let’s take one for the ‘gram…”

“You must have sooooo many followers, being on TV,” she said, after she snapped a pic of the two of us, “is it okay if I tag you?”

“Sure,” I chuckled, but then thought about them, all of them, the simps and followers we girls here at the station had been - what’s the word? - amassing. We didn’t just have viewers anymore, or watchers. People watched us religiously. We all had websites, fan sites dedicated to us, to me. We had the “Church of Channel 5”. We had, like, worshippers. But what if our little simps started to get a look at her? I mean, I was getting tall - three inches I’d grown - but she was an Amazon. I was getting curvy - 34F and counting, my waist still tight, my butt growing bigger and bigger - but she’s like a walking wet dream, built like a cartoon character. Thinking of my audience spending their time and unzipping their pants to her instead of me or Marta or Janet or the others….is this what jealousy feels like? Again, it was a she-wolf thing. I’m the alpha around here now. Leave. Haha listen to me. I sound so badass.

“So what are you doing tonight?” I asked, casually, hoping she didn’t take it as an invitation to ‘hang out’. Yuck.

“Ooo I’m spending it with my boyfriend,” she said, obviously smitten with whoever it was, “He and some friends are coming to my place…”

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sorry we've been away; working to catch up. Onto post 350-something at Patreon

#growing into the job

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kizzykiszka · 7 months

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|| GOD FORSAKE THE QUEEN ||

Warnings: violence, cursing, descriptions of war, and bloodshed. this is an adventure story in the middle of a war. this story will get violent and there will be injury. it's a little bit of an AU, so some personality traits may be exaggerated. sam is kind of a dick in this. sorry sammy girls. there will be some romance but its not the forefront of this. if you don't want to read about the guys getting injured -- please do not read this.

((if you like this, please let me know if you want to be tagged for future updates.))

summary:

"Up-and-coming rock band Greta van Fleet heads home, drained from their 2019 tour, yearning for a much-needed break. However, their world takes a dramatic turn when a celestial being, Mother, transports them to the war-torn realm of Eldoria. Here, a prophecy awaits them—to rescue the land from the clutches of the ruthless dictator, Seraphina, who usurped the throne with dark magic, stripping the land of its mystical essence and enslaving all who oppose her. In this perilous journey, the band members—Josh, Jake, Sam, and Danny—discover a realm in chaos. The true king and his daughter have fallen victim to the dictator's cruelty, while the queen narrowly escaped, leading a small but resilient rebellion of survivors. Their valiant attempts to reclaim the kingdom have been met with dwindling numbers. Guided by the power of Mother and equipped with newfound abilities, the boys must plunge themselves into the heart of battle, their singular goal: to vanquish the tyrannical queen and at any cost, restore order and magic to Eldoria.

Chapter 1

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Summer.

Out in the middle of the California desert, there was a large sleeper bus traveling down the road in the bright afternoon light that blanketed the surrounding scenery. Traffic was average, given the time of day it was but the sleeper bus really stuck out like a sore thumb among the regular cars. It wasn’t atypical to see these types of buses on the road. Generally celebrities were inside, as it was the most common way for them to travel in private. Inside this particular bus was a group of celebrities, however they didn’t really see themselves as “famous”. They were Greta van Fleet. And they were heading home to Michigan from their last concert of the year.

Normally, the inside of the bus was filled with chatter while the boys drank and discussed their next venue they’d been performing at. Instead, the cabin was silent. Josh, lead singer, was laid down in the back of the bus in one of the beds -- passed out cold under a pile of blankets. His twin, Jake the guitarist, was perched up in the bed below him looking out the window at the passing cars while simultaneously bandaging up his calloused fingers. Sam, youngest brother and bassist, was in the common area at the table with a drink while he leafed through a book while their drummer Danny was sifting through his social media in a slumped over position in the couch opposite to the table that Sam was sitting at. They were all completely exhausted. Ever since the start of their tour, they hadn’t had a moment of time to just sit and relax. Now that they were heading home, where each of them knew they were definitely going to be exploiting this down time to the fullest extent.

Jake played hard this last show and his fingers were really sore now. It wasn’t uncommon for people who played string instruments to get callouses on their fingertips. Sam got them more often since he played bass with very thick strings that absolutely destroyed his fingers. Jake had unfortunately gone a little too crazy on this last show and this had broken open several of the already hardened blisters on the tips of his fingers. Reaching down to grab another BandAid, Jake frowns as he finds the box is totally empty. “Damn,” he thinks to himself, “I still have a whole other hand to do. There’s gotta be another box here...” Jake tucks his phone back into his pocket and turns around to pull back the privacy curtain that was around the bed and he steps out into the cramped hallway that led to the common area of the bus. From there, he heads over to the bathroom where he starts rummaging through the cabinet above the sink. No bandaids. Odd, but not uncommon. They did seem to go through a lot of those lately. He exits the bathroom and heads back down the hall towards the common area where his bandmates were seated.

“Any of you have any bandaids?” Jakes asked, “There’s none in the bathroom.” Sam lowers his book a bit to look at his older brother with a frown. “What did you do this time?” he asked, the words that left his mouth almost cold. “Nothing particularly bad.” Jake replied, ignoring his little brother’s rather obviously annoyed tone of voice as he held out his busted fingers, “... I think I might have overdone it at the last show. They’re bleeding this time.” Sam puts his book down with a groan and he slides out of the booth, “I think I have some in my bag. If not…” Sam glances out the window, “We might still have time to stop.” Outside, they were now much closer to the desert and the cacti seemed to whiz by in green blurs. Highway 40 was quite a ways away now and there wouldn’t be any way for them to get back. Sam pulls open the privacy blinds now and shakes his head at the passing scenery, “On second thought, I think we’re in the middle of nowhere now. Unless you feel like stopping at a tiny town on this road.”

“I wouldn’t mind stopping.” A voice piped up from behind the brothers, and they turned around to look at Danny who was now mid-stretch across the couch, “I think we’ve been in here for at least 6 hours now. Personally, I’d like to get out and stretch my legs. I’m gonna go bug the driver, see if we can pull off somewhere.”

Before Danny could push past his bandmates, a loud singular tak noise sounded above their heads. They all paused to look up. Another. Tak… tak…. Tic… Rain? “Aren’t we in the middle of the desert?” Jake questioned. It rarely rained out in the desert and outside the window, the sky seemed bright and clear. “Yeah,” Sam responded, “I’m gonna go see what’s going on. We should still be on the highway now that I think about it.” Sam walks past his bandmates and up towards the front of the vehicle where their driver was. He carefully knocks on the outer wall before pulling back the curtain to see the bus driver perched contently in the driver’s seat. Robert was his name. “Hey!” Robert greets the stoic bassist with a grin, “You guys doing okay back there?”

“For the most part yeah,” Sam replied, “Is there any reason why we left the highway?”

“Oh yeah! I’m real sorry about that kiddo. I probably should have mentioned this to ya’ll but I didn’t want to frighten you none. I had a check engine light come on so I’m headed towards Vegas now. Should be somewhere for us to stop and get the bus serviced.” Robert explained. “Check engine?” Sam asked, “Didn’t we just have this thing serviced before we left?”

“I got her gassed up, but no, not any servicing. It’s rare they give us any issues. Engines in these things are tanks,” Robert says, “Shouldn’t be a big issue. We should make it to Vegas here soon.”

“Alright. I’ll go let them know. Just… can you tell us next time before you just veer off the highway?” Sam said before disappearing back behind the curtain. He heads back into the common area where Danny was inspecting Jake’s fingers carefully with a roll of black electrical tape in hand. “Are we stopping?” Danny asked. Sam plops back down in the seat adjacent to the boys and grabs for the book he’d abandoned just moments ago, “Yeah. Apparently we’re making a pit stop in Vegas. Something’s up with the bus.” A look of alarm washes over the pair’s face, “A problem?” Jake asks, “Not serious is it?”

The rain was starting to pick up now. Heavy droplets were beating the roof of the bus relentlessly and the once bright afternoon light was now replaced with gloomy dark clouds overhead. Sam shrugs, “Hell if I know. I’m just ready to get home and not do anything for a few months so we better not be stopped for too long.” Jake rolls his eyes as Danny finishes up taping his fingers with a spare roll of electrical tape. It wasn’t much but it worked. “I’m just ready for some good family food,” Jake said, fanning his fingers, “And a break from being in the spotlight. It’s great but, I dunno… you ever find yourself missing the days when we were just a garage band?”

“Occasionally,” Danny replied, “It’s nice to be recognized though. And hey, we’re stopping in Las Vegas. They’re bound to have some good food we can grab before we leave.” Sam leaned back in his chair wordlessly and cracked open the novel he was reading once again. He was definitely in one of his moods again. Jake ignored his little brother once more and pulled out his phone to open up the maps application to browse their food options. They weren’t going to be able to go too many places. The bus was a behemoth and barely fit in any parking lots so wherever they went, it had to be somewhere within walking distance of the bus stop.

“I’d love to go to one of these casinos one day,” Jake murmured under his breath, “I think I might get stuck there.”

“Nah,” Danny snorts, “You’d find your sorry ass in a strip club one way or another.” Jake rolled his eyes with a playful huff, “Yeah, sure.”

The two continued looking over their options, trying to decide on a place that everyone could agree on when suddenly a low groaning noise echoed through the cabin ominously. The three all got very quiet and looked around in confusion. “That sounded like…” Danny started to speak but was interrupted by the sound of a small explosion in the back of the bus that was immediately followed by a loud hissing. They all looked to each other, as if looking for answers. Overhead, the bus lights flickered and the huge sleeper started to rumble deeply as it slowed to a stop on the side of the road. Sam tosses the book down on the table, “Damn him!” he exclaims, stomping up towards the front of the bus. He met Robert in the hallway, who had just come out from behind the partition. He looked very sweaty and anxious, “You said it was going to be fine!” Sam yells, “What the hell is going on?”

“Sam!” Danny barks, rushing up to the boy whom he pulls away from the driver, “Dude, chill. It’s nothing, okay? We’ll be just fine. Don’t get all up in his face like that.”

“He literally said 2 minutes ago that we’d be just fine!” Sam exclaims again, “So were we not okay?”

Robert holds his hands up defensively, “Look, I just got a check engine light 30 minutes ago.. I think the radiator’s done blown but I gotta go out and check. Excuse me, please.” The graying chubby man pushes past the two and out into the rain. Sam shakes his head in disbelief and goes to sit back down, folding his arms tightly over his chest. By now, the commotion had woken up the last brother who had tumbled out of the bunk bed he’d been hibernating in since the departure. Josh entered the common area, rubbing his eye with a yawn, “What’s everyone yelling for?” he asked, looking around the cabin with a frown, “Are we stopped?”

“Something’s wrong with the bus,” Jake replied, “It’s not a big deal though. I’m sure Robert will have it up and running here in a sec and we can limp it to Vegas like he said he would.” The lights flickered again above their heads. Josh takes a seat at the table across from Sam, who was fuming now and showing his displeasure by tapping his foot rapidly. Josh yawns again and nods, “Mmm, okay. Vegas sounds nice. I don’t think we’ve been there yet. Could we go to one of those uh…” he snaps his fingers, “... casino places? Always thought it would be fun to use one of those machines.” Josh was clearly still waking up. Once more, the lights flickered and then completely shut off, leaving the band in complete darkness. The sound of rain continued now, much louder now that the air conditioning was off. “That uh… that can’t be good.” Jake whispered.

“Alright fine,” Sam says suddenly as he shot up from his seat, “I will go check on the driver.” Sam disappears down the hall towards the front of the bus and down the stairs to the outside world. Josh rests his head on the table in front of him with a sigh, “Well, at least this’ll make for a fun story for when we get home,” he says, “Anyone able to text mom?”

Jake snorts, “I think every group has had their bus break down in a sketchy area before. Besides, Rob’s certified. Aaron made sure he was before he hired him. We’ll be running in a second.”

The bus door swings open and a very wet Sammy comes stomping up the stairs, soaking wet and with a frantic look on his face, “He’s gone.” he utters, sending a wave of panic through the boys. “Gone? What do you mean gone?!” Jake exclaims, turning around to look out the window. “It’s exactly what I said, Jake! He’s just gone.” Sam responds, reaching to grab his phone.

“Like, gone gone?”

“The back of the bus is open like he started working on it, but he’s not there. He’s not on the other side and he’s not in the desert. He’s just gone.”

Josh stands up now and folds his hands together, “So, do we… call the police?” Danny asked, “Should we go check and see if he’s gone?”

“I don’t know!” Sam replies frantically, “What if there’s someone or something out there?”

Danny holds up his hands, “Hang on, Sam. Let’s just take a deep breath. I’m sure our manager can’t be far from here. We can just call him and he’ll pick us up.”

“I’m not getting any signal,” Jake says as he drops his phone down, “I don’t understand. We had it just fine a second ago.” One by one, the boys take out their phones and try to dial out -- only to have the calls mysteriously drop. This only sends more panic through them. Sam runs his hands through his long hair and looks back at the door, “Someone’s gotta fix the bus. We’re just sitting ducks if there’s something out there. Danny, you know something about cars, don’t you?”

“You’re gonna feed me to the wolves?” Danny asked, “No, no absolutely not. If we’re going out there, I need a buddy. Rob just up and fucking disappeared, what if I do too??”

“Let’s all go together.”

All eyes now turn to Josh who was sitting with his hands clasped in front of his face. “We’re safer in numbers,” Josh continues, “If there is a threat.” The remaining three look around and nod, “Alright. I’ll go and see what I can do. Sam, if I can get this running again, you’re driving.” Josh gets up from his seat and the boys all file out into the rainy desert landscape. The first thing they noticed was the fact there was at least an inch or two of standing water at their feet where the sand normally was. It didn’t rain much in this part of the world, so it wasn’t uncommon for flooding to occur. The group carefully tip toes out in the rain to the other side of the bus where they see the metal grate covering the engine flipped up, smoke pouring out of the engine bay.

Rob was nowhere in sight.

A chill ran down Josh’s spine. He didn’t like this. Danny approaches the engine and Sam follows from the side with the flashlight from his phone while Jake and Josh stand watch. “It’s the radiator!” Danny called through the rain, “We need some water or something! A big jug!”

“We don’t have a big jug of water.” Sam replied, “We have water bottles! And water on the ground!”

They were genuinely afraid now. Someone had to go back to the bus to get the water bottles from the bus and leave the other two outside. Nobody wanted to move. “Jake, go with Sam to the bus. Get as many water bottles as you can!” Danny calls, “We gotta get this bus going again!”

“What about Rob?!” Jake called back, “We’re just gonna leave him?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there! We can’t be in this storm!” Danny called once more. The wind was picking up now. Josh’s eyes were focused out to the middle of the desert, trying to see if he could make out human shaped silhouettes out in the distance. There was nothing though. Just blackness. This storm didn’t feel right. It was violent and sudden, almost like it was planned to make them stranded. The desert didn’t have rain like this, did it? Suddenly, something caught his eye. A small sliver of light flashed out in the distance. It looked almost like lightning, but it held its shape in one spot. It started to grow in length, and then it split open with a loud crack that sounded loudly across the arid land.

“Are you guys seeing this shit?!” Josh hollered as a bright white light blanketed the surrounding cacti and road. Stunned, the boys watched in awe as a woman slowly slipped out of this crack in the sky. She was enormous and almost opaque in color. Her body was twice the size of any high rise building and she emitted this ethereal white light that was blindingly beautiful. Upon her body was a simple robe that was draped across her loosely, and atop her head was an ornate crown of golden leaves while her hair was neatly braided. Her eyes were without pupils, but just blinding white light.

The rain stopped. The droplets were suspended in the air now while it continued to pour outside of the orb they were trapped in.

“Welcome, saviors.” The woman boomed, “We have been waiting for you.”

Again, they exchanged looks. “Waiting for us?” Josh questioned, “Who are you?” The ethereal woman smiles warmly, “I am Mother. I have been watching you four since the day of your birth. You are destined to save the world. Our world.” She outstretches a hand from underneath the robes and points forward with two fingers. A glowing light emits from her fingertips. She draws a circle out of the glowing light while her other hand reaches down toward the boys. A soft warm yellow glow envelopes each boy in an aura and one by one, they begin to levitate upwards. “Save the world?!” Sam hollers now, “We’re just a band! Just normal people!! What are you doing?? Put us down!” But Mother ignored his pleas. Jake was far too stunned to say anything and Danny was pale with fear and shock.

Josh runs his hands through his hair furiously, “This has got to be some kind of crazy fever dream. I only see this in my dreams! What are you going to do with us? What do you mean saviors?”

The woman had drawn a circle in the air, and filled it with symbols that Josh didn’t understand. “I’m afraid I can’t answer any questions, puer meus.” Mother says, “All will be answered with time. But we must hurry. There isn’t much time now.” Mother opens her palm, pushing the circle and it’s odd symbols forward. It turns yellow and begins to glow rather brightly. “Duc nos domum.” Mother uttered these words, and a bright blinding light filled the sky in response.

Then, there was nothing.

#greta van fleet #gvf #josh gvf #josh kiszka #gretavanfleet #danny gvf #danny wagner #jake gvf #jake kiszka #gvf fanfiction #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #sam kiskza #sam gvf

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dribs-and-drabbles · 1 year

Text

TAG 9 PEOPLE YOU WANT TO GET TO KNOW BETTER

I was tagged by @telomeke and @wanderingrain Thank you so much both! 💖

THREE SHIPS

I presume this means my top three? Well, no surprises here:

Pat and Pran from Bad Buddy

Jack and Zhao Zi from HIStory: Trapped

Jaeyoung and Sangwoo from Semantic Error

Special shout out to Gun and Tinn from My School President who might take over one of those spots.

FIRST SHIP

Like ever ever? I don't remember to be honest (maybe Elizabeth and Mr Darcy...but the BBC/Colin Firth edition). But the one I have gone THE MOST feral over is Pat and Pran, so let's say it's them.

LAST SONG

I have the many songs from My School President on repeat.

LAST MOVIE

Cherry Magic the movie. And that was a while back. I don't generally watch movies nowadays.

CURRENTLY READING

I have a permanent residency in the Bad Buddy works on ao3...so whatever gets newly published there...but I also have two actual books on the go which I'm taking so long to get through because I hardly get any time to read: "The girl who could move shit with her mind" by Jackson Ford, and "The Brain" by David Eagleman.

CURRENTLY WATCHING

My School President, Moonlight Chicken, and Never Let Me Go. (I've also just finished 10 Years Ticket (EVERYONE SHOULD WATCH IT), Candy Colour Paradox, and will finish Gap The Series when the final ep finally airs...and might start Individual Circumstances soon).

CURRENTLY CONSUMING

Nothing right now but I've just snacked on a few Dark Chocolate and Stem Ginger cookies and I have a small Innocent Re[charge] super smoothie waiting to be drunk.

CURRENTLY CRAVING

Nothing food-wise since I've just eaten. But more series like My School President/Bad Buddy. And more Bad Buddy fics with one or both of them pining, bonus if the fics include resolved sexual tension but unresolved emotional tension ("The Fine Line..." has my whole heart, and "traffic was slow for the crash years" is also proving to be a great one).

ONWARD TAGS

@seeking-moonscapes @grapejuicegay @markpakin @casualavocados @baifengxis @hughungrybear @justafriend-ql @freensrcha @elnotwoods

#tag game #thanks for tagging me!#it was fun to do this

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stutterfly · 3 years

Text

Swipe Right 04 | Patch Notes | JJK (M)

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader, brot7 x friendship

Genre: E2L, fluff, angst, humor, [eventual] smut, PersonalTrainer!Jungkook, fuckboy!Jungkook, Nerd!Jungkook, Nerd/IT!Reader

Word Count: 15.1K

Last time on SR03: You joined a gym to increase your confidence and things progressed the way you want with your tinder match. You ended up in an unlikely competition with your friends when you went new bar together, leading to some unexpected conversations and shenanigans.

CW & Other Tags: Drinking, anxiety/panic attack mentions, muscle tearing injury mention, fuckboy Jungkook, pining, flirting, pick-up lines, sexual tension, Joonie is still Y/N’s best boi, soft Jungkook

Series: Activate your SIMCard

Fic: Swipe Right (4/?- Ongoing)

Do not repost.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

When’s the last time you felt as good as you do right now? Jungkook has pretty much stopped bothering you since that night at Seesaw, your date with Jason went well, and you’ve been sticking to your early morning workouts. You definitely don’t push yourself as much as trainer Hwasa, and you know you should really take advantage of the free trial, but it was overwhelming to take in so much at once and the session made you sore all over for days.

At least your stamina seems to be improving and you’ve discovered post-workout endorphins are real. Tonight is your second date with Jason, a date you’ve uncharacteristically elected to host at your apartment. You can place some blame on those endorphins for your boldness, with pining and disappointment composing the rest of it.

While your first date ended without a kiss, there was enough flirting to keep you hopeful. Neither of you were brave enough to do anything about it then, but you’ve mentally coached yourself into pretending like you have an unbreakable spine with nerves of steel. Meeting him only solidified your attraction, and you’ve resolved to take the lead, even though you feel like you have no idea what you’re doing.

It’s not like you often make the first move, but your confidence in him to do so has waned. You’ve been talking and playing games together online for months without any physical touch. Despite how he’s said he likes you and wants to see you again, you’d still be waiting if you didn’t suggest today.

You’re determined to show him what he’s missing by being a recluse. That’s why you’ve picked out the sluttiest clothes and the strappiest heels you own, decorated your face with expensive makeup, and even styled your hair instead of just letting it do whatever it wants for the day. You check yourself out in the full-length mirror on your bedroom door for the millionth time and pull down on the hem of your dress like it will somehow magically grow longer.

You don’t need the heels; no part of the night calls for them. You’re going to be sitting on the couch with him. If you’re lucky you’ll even move it to the bedroom you spent so much time cleaning. But they’re cute and they make you feel sexy, so you’re going to keep them on until he’s peeling you out of your dress.

Nerves bubble in your stomach, but you have to pretend like they’re not there or you’ll fixate on how hard you’re trying to be confident and cool. You’ll fall apart when it’s obvious to Jason how hard you’re pretending to be everything you aren’t. Checking your phone doesn’t help; it’s almost time.

Taking a deep breath, you pace through the confines of your apartment as you wait, and answer group texts from Jennie and Namjoon. You offer up a selfie, hoping any compliments will build your confidence enough to stave off the anxiety in your gut. A few devil emojis later, some keysmashing, and more than a couple hamfisted compliments from Namjoon, your ego is adequately inflated but you can always use more hyping. Maybe you should send it to Jimin to fish for more compliments? He’d indulge you for sure.

Instead you flop on the couch and open Tinder. According to Jennie, Jason is stringing you along; it’s been months, but you hate to admit that she has a point. So you don’t. She’s been telling you for a while now that she thinks you should pursue other suitors. While you object to her assumptions, she has more experience with this kind of stuff. It’s not exactly something you want to believe, not when you’ve put in so much effort for literal months.

You want to believe in Jason being awkward and dorky and that’s why it’s taken so long for the two of you to hook up. He’s shy and super introverted, but so are you. So why are you the only one trying to make things happen? You want to believe, but at this point you’re uncertain enough to heed Jennie’s advice and keep swiping any time you find yourself in a situation where you’re waiting on him. Like now.

You have your reservations about swiping while you wait for your date to begin, but you can practically hear Jennie cheering you on. He’s late anyway, and it will keep you busy until he arrives. You open the discovery tab and swipe left on a couple incomplete profiles. Most of the guys on here don’t put in any effort. How are you supposed to want to give any of them a chance when you don’t even get a tiny snapshot of who they are?

When you pass on yet another fish pic profile, a blue frame appears around the next guy in line. It takes a moment for your brain to register the name along with the duck-faced photo as someone familiar.

[Jungkook said: Your legs remind me of oreos 🥴 wanna know why?]

How fucking dare he? You match with the intent to ream him out and leave.

You: I told you not to fucking find me on here

It takes only a few seconds before you see the dots move on his end, like he was waiting for the moment you would answer, and it keeps you tethered to the conversation.

Jungkook: Princess!! I couldn’t help myself how are you

Jungkook: Surprised you didn’t block me

You: Don’t worry I’m gonna

Jungkook: it’s bc you wanna know huh

You: ???

Jungkook: Your legs

Jungkook: Like oreos

Jungkook: I wanna split them n lick the cream from the center 😜

Electricity rumbles in your gut, carrying heat and a surge of excitement to your cunt that threatens to flood your panties. You swallow hard and squeeze your thighs together as you stare at the screen. Embarrassed by the response his antics elicit, you scramble to formulate a coherent thought.

You: I wish I could unread 🤢

Jungkook: Aw but that’s one of my favorites

Jungkook: Just like you 😘

You: 🙄

You: I hate you so much

Jungkook: So much that you matched with me?

You stare at the message like a clever response will come to you and when it doesn’t you bite your lip. He’s got a point. Haven’t you learned your lesson not to encourage him? Your eyes scan the top of your phone for any notifications from Jason. Nothing. At least this is keeping you distracted. That’s what you tell yourself.

Jungkook: You’re still here which means 👀

You: It means I’m tired

Jungkook: Of?

You pause for a moment. Namjoon and Jennie can’t know how anxious you are about Jason. It’s the guy’s last strike with them and he hasn’t even met them yet. Jungkook, an impartial third party, might be able to lend an ear. As much as you don’t care what he thinks, you need an outlet for the anxiety in your chest. You start to draft a word-vomit. Jason has been so hesitant to see you in person again and now he’s late. Maybe if you just put it out there to someone you’ll feel better.

Jungkook: If you need to sleep how about a massage?

Jungkook: I’m good with my fingers 🥴

Stupid. In what universe could you confide in Jungkook? Deleting your word-vomit before you can send it, you start to type something else, but your thumb accidentally taps enter at the exact wrong moment.

You: You know what? I want you

FUCK. Goddamn you, sausage fingers.

You scramble to rewrite the sentence but Jungkook is quicker. He has to know it was an accident, but you’re still fucking mortified.

Jungkook: 😈

Jungkook: My place

Jungkook: Ten minutes

You: *to stay off my profile

Jungkook: 👉👌?

You: YOU KNOW I DIDN’T MEAN THAT

You: 🤢🤢🤢

Jungkook: 😩

Jungkook: Now you’re just playing games with me princess

Jungkook: Can’t say I mind just fuck me up 🥴

You: Don’t you have a princess to fuck in another castle? Maybe she can stroke your tiny ego

Jungkook: Ouch felt that from here

He goes quiet and you close the conversation out. Setting the phone down on the cushion beside you lasts all of two seconds. When your phone buzzes twice, you know better than to answer, yet you feel compelled to look.

Jungkook: Hey quick question

Jungkook: Is this the most you’ve used the app to talk with someone you like? 👻

Just like that you unmatch with him and take a moment to seethe. Distraction or no, he’s not worth the mental energy. He always seems to draw you in like a pretty little thirst trap and drain you of your sanity. Not engaging is the safest option so why do you always end up doing so? Maybe it’s that shitty little part of you that gets excited any time he shows you attention.

There’s a gullible girl within you; she sets your pulse on fire when he feigns even the slightest interest, fills your head with wind when he brushes against you, and floods your eyes with tears when he walks away. Still, she wants him to look at you, even if it means he’s really looking through you. You hate her. Why can’t she learn that you deserve better?

You check the time again and wince. Jason is really late now. Not even a text. Or a phone call. Maybe it’s traffic?

Try to relax. Nothing bad is going to happen. You’re going to have fun tonight.

You start up a game to take your mind off the options available to explain his absence. When you’re invested in a game you often lose track of time, but tonight you’re hyper-aware of every minute that passes. You bite at your freshly painted nails during loading screens, chipping the red from their edges. Sounding casual is difficult when you’re worried, but you attempt it anyway via text. It’s ten more agonizing minutes of waiting before your phone buzzes with an answer.

The controller drops to your lap and immediately tears begin to sprinkle your thighs with the manifestation of your heartache.

He forgot.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

An earthy scent fills Namjoon’s apartment as he carefully transfers the last of his plants to a bigger pot, filling in the edges of its roots with fresh soil and patting the edges down with care. His plants have needed this, maybe even more than he needs the mini hangout that will soon follow. The kitchen table is covered in dirt, but at least he’s almost done.

It’s not his fault Jungkook showed up earlier than expected. At least he’s quiet now. It’s been a while, but he’s finally stopped asking about how much longer it will take, so he must either be invested in the show he put on or asleep on the couch.

“Almost done,” Namjoon loudly announces. “Can you text Tae?”

“Kay.” Jungkook yawns as he stands and heads towards the bathroom. “Jin was already cooking when I left so it should be ready soon.”

“Good. I’m hungry,” Namjoon says, carefully transporting the plant to the desk in his bedroom.

As he’s on his way to clean up the mess on the table there’s a soft rapid knock at the front door. The moment he opens it and finds you standing before him, he knows something is wrong. Even the ratty hoodie covering your shoulders can’t hide the effort you’ve obviously put into your appearance tonight. While your makeup seems to have fared rather well, your eyes are red and your cheeks are puffy. His mind automatically assumes the worst about your second date and his jaw tightens.

“What happened? Did he hurt you?”

“He never showed.” You throw your arms around him and openly sob.

“Oh, Y/N…” His arms are around you in an instant, hugging you close while keeping his dirty fingers at bay.

You press your cheek against his chest, letting the tears fall freely. “I’m sorry. I know you probably have plans tonight, but I wanted to stop here—” You choke out a loud sob and wipe your nose with your sleeve as you look down at the floor. “I didn’t want to drive upset but you weren’t answering and I just—”

“Shit. Exam today. I left it on silent.” He pats his pocket to make sure it’s still there, wiping as much dirt as he can on his jeans before placing his hands on your shoulders. “Hey, it’s okay. Deep breaths.”

Jungkook emerges from the bathroom quietly with a furrowed brow and pursed lips. Did he hear your voice or is it his imagination? Unsure if you’re some wishful remnant of earlier texts, he peeks around the corner.

Heels: black, strappy heels with a velvety smooth red undersole. Has he ever seen you in heels? If he has, it’s never been something as flashy as these. His gaze travels up the smooth, exposed skin of your legs until it hits the hem of a skirt. The dark fabric seems a little short; it clings to your thighs, riding up as you embrace his friend. It’s hard not to notice how well it accents the curve of your hips and more importantly: your ass. He’s definitely never seen you in something so revealing, not even on nights where you’ve joined them for dancing.

He pauses for a fraction of a second, eyes trained on the swell of your ass before moving up to find the disappointing sight of your favorite hoodie barring much else from view. Namjoon’s arms outline your shape, but the places his hands rest are far too respectable to glean much else other than simple blueprints.

With his dick leading his steps, Jungkook opens his mouth to announce his presence with a joke. He means to selfishly steal a glimpse of your entire ensemble with some snarky comment but you choke out a sob and his stomach lurches to form a whirlpool of apprehension. His mouth remains open, but his words are swallowed back into the dark swirling pit that now wrenches his gut in circles.

Namjoon looks up just in time to read the confusion and shock on his features. He shakes his head and cups yours against his chest, wordlessly signaling Jungkook to keep quiet.

“Is there anything I can do? Do you wanna talk about it?” Namjoon asks, hoping you don’t see the man behind you slowly backing away like he’s just approached a rabid animal.

You’re sobbing. Why are you sobbing? What happened? Was it what he said before you unmatched? Jungkook tiptoes back into the kitchen without a word. He leans against the counter and shoves his hands in his coat pockets, trying to piece everything together. Did he cause this?

You screw your eyes shut to try to keep the tears inside. It’s no use. They always seem to find a way out. “He didn’t show up and when I texted him, he… he said he forgot."

“What?"

“I thought it would be good after the arcade date, you know? Like, good chemistry. He’s weird. I like him! He seemed interested and we made these plans and he just—” you choke out another loud sob. “God. Am I really so fucking forgettable?”

You wanted your friends to be wrong so badly that you ignored the fact that it’s been like pulling teeth trying to get Jason to meet up again. For him to forget completely is like a kick to the face that leaves all the teeth intact, maybe a little bloody, but stubbornly intact.

“Y/N, no. It’s not your fault. You deserve better than this fucking guy.”

Jungkook swallows hard. This definitely doesn’t feel like a conversation he should be hearing, but it’s loud enough to carry through the entire apartment. Kitchen, bedroom, or bathroom: his options are limited, but he knows there’s nowhere to go to pretend like he can’t hear it. It’s not like he can just walk out the front door now.

“Do I? It’s seems like a fucking pattern, Joon. I fall for people so easily and they always make me feel like an idiot for trying. Donghyun. Seojun. Jason. Jungkook… It doesn’t matter. No one fucking wants me.”

Jungkook tenses. He may not know all the names on your list, but his is among them all the same. Has he really hurt you so much?

“Hey… Don’t think like that,” Namjoon says, his voice soft as he rubs your back. “You know your worth, and it’s not measured by how well someone else can see it.”

Every time you think you’re done crying, fresh tears begin to roll down your cheeks. “I’m tired, Joonie.”

“I know. I’m sorry. We'll get you home."

As you step back to look at him your ankle rolls, and you begin to fall. Hearing the scuffle, Jungkook winces and peeks around the corner. Namjoon has a good enough grip to stop you from fully tumbling to the floor, but you’re definitely not stable by any means.

Although you now face Jungkook, you’re too distracted by your ankle to notice the extra pair of eyes on you. He allows himself to stupidly linger within your line of sight, raking his gaze across your form to take in the details of your attire, right down to your choice of earrings. Even with a red nose and puffy, smudged eyes, the time you’ve spent on your appearance remains evident.

You did all that for some guy who didn’t even show? If that’s how you dress for your dates then his innocent perception of you is completely wrong. What kind of moron would pass up the opportunity to peel you out of that dress and dive into your cunt? You look incredible. What the fuck.

"God. Shit. Fuck! Fucking stupid heels!” You huff out your exasperation and let a small pitiful laugh pass your lips as you right your stance with Namjoon’s help. “You know, I spent hours getting ready and now I just look stupid. I feel stupid.”

“You don’t. You’re not,” Namjoon insists, his palm squeezing your shoulder.

“Namjoon, I shaved my entire body. Do you know how long that took?”

Jungkook forces himself to withdraw into the kitchen. If you see him now you might murder him. He purses his lips into a thin line and tightens his grip around his arms. In an instant he imagines hiking your dress above your hips and parting your legs so he might brush his cheek against the smooth expanse of your thigh all the way to your core. Are your panties as slutty as your dress? Are they cute? Lacy? Plain?

“Geeksquad…” Namjoon sighs loudly. “I really don’t need to know— Hold up. Wasn’t this the second date?”

“Are you slutshaming me?” The tired laugh that follows sounds more like you, but it still hurts his heart. “I’m stepping up my game.”

“Nah. You do you,” he says, a soft smile on his lips that’s obviously full of pity. “You want to stay and get some food? I think I have some sweats you can change into.”

Tires screech in Jungkook’s mind. Is he going to be trapped here for the night? Without dinner? What kind of karmic torture is the universe putting him through?

“No, I’m sorry,” you sniffle, wiping your face with the sleeves of your sweater. “Jennie wants me to come over but I—I didn’t think I could make it with having a full meltdown. You were on the way.”

“No need to apologize.” He pulls you into another tight hug. “Do you want me to walk you back to your car?”

“No, no it’s fine. I’m right in front. Thanks, Joonie.” Your phone begins to buzz in your hoodie pocket. You pull back and wave it at him, already on your way to the door. “It’s like she knew. I’ll talk to her on the way. Thank you for listening to me cry for the millionth time.”

“Always. Text me when you get there, okay?”

“Will do, mom,” you tease with a soft laugh.

“Zip up your hoodie.”

You grimace at him with narrowed eyes but heed his advice on your way out. You also pull your skirt down as far down your thighs as it will reach. Men are gross and you trust virtually none of them.

Jungkook waits until he hears the click of the lock on the door to breathe a loud sigh of relief. Namjoon rubs the back of his neck and stares at the door. He worries about you.

“Yikes. That Jason guy is a dick huh?”

Namjoon swivels on his heels and rounds on his friend. “Like you were so much better to her?”

Jungkook casts his gaze to the floor. “I didn’t stand her up.”

Even he knows that argument is flimsy.

“Guk.”

“It was always just a joke.”

“It’s not though. She really liked you, man. I asked you not to mess with her.”

Memories have warped Jungkook into a jaded man: untrusting although not uncaring. Guilt is the only thing churning in his stomach as he thinks of you. He never expected to genuinely hurt you. Somehow things twisted into a gnarled mess that never really felt like more than a playful game of tug-of-war. But these kinds of games only work when the people involved know that they’re playing. It’s shitty when one pulls another into the mud when they’ve never agreed to participate.

Faced with the reality of how you consider him now, it dawns on him that he’s dragged you into the mud face-first without even the slightest resistance. You’ve stood up and you’ve even yanked the rope in retaliation, but you never should’ve been in the mud in the first place. Regardless of his own emotional ineptitude, he knows you never deserved that humiliation. No one does. The weight of his actions sits heavy in his gut.

Still he tries to justify himself. “All I do now is make pass after pass and she’s the one who turns me down.”

“You said it earlier yourself,” Namjoon sneers, irritated by his friend’s immaturity. “It’s always a joke. You’re never serious and she knows it. Look, you don’t have to like her back. She’s my friend and so are you. Just don’t lead her on and stop with the mind games. Be honest with her. The least you can do is apologize for being a dick.”

“That’s— I feel like… I don’t know how.”

Jungkook can’t bring himself to tell him of your conversation earlier tonight. It just adds to the guilt piling on his conscience. Namjoon used his own words against him and the worst part is it makes sense. It’s so much easier when it’s a stranger at a bar or a random encounter at a club, but you’re neither of those things. He lumped you into that category all the same.

Namjoon clicks his tongue and puts an arm around Jungkook’s back. “Starting with ‘I’m sorry’ can go a long way. She’s a good person and I know you guys can get along. Things were going well until you made that bet, right?”

Jungkook opens his mouth to speak and then closes it. “Mmm.”

“Not every girl is a Jiseo, Jungkook.”

“Yeah.”

“I think…” Namjoon sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t know. Can you try to just... tone it down? Maybe try to patch things up?”

“Okay.” Jungkook’s brow furrows and he chews his lip as he mulls over Namjoon’s words. He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out his keys. “You ready?”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Your head dips forward as your fingers glide across the keys. It's hard to concentrate on your task when you're this distracted by your own thoughts. You stare at the monitor with furrowed brows. Namjoon grabs the back of your chair and leans forward to tower over you.

"Went that well, huh? Did he blow the second chance he didn’t deserve?"

The motion jerks you backwards and you grip the armrests of the chair to steady yourself. Despite your best attempt to curb the irritation in your expression, your frustration remains apparent. You sit back and tilt your head up to look at him, trying to think of something to say, some excuse to not reinforce the "told you so" waiting in your future, not after you showed up at his apartment sounding like a dying whale a few days before. When no ideas come to your immediate aid, you click your tongue and let out a heavy sigh as you turn your attention back to the screen.

"Geeksquad," he presses. "Talk to me."

You exhale through your nose and briefly purse your lips before obliging his plea. The words are quick and quiet so you don't run the risk of bawling your eyes out again. "He canceled.”

Namjoon steps back and the pressure on your seat is gone. He places a large palm on your shoulder. "I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about it?"

Despite wanting to give the opposite answer, you shake your head. You don't trust yourself to speak, but you'd like to tell him. He's clever and you know he'll likely find a way to get it out of you with minimal effort anyway. Still, you don’t think you can manage the words without crying like a baby and you don’t want to do that when the morning has only just begun. Silence falls between the two of you as he gives you time to decide if you want to open up.

After a moment of tapping away you finally give in. You know you’ll feel better after you cry.

"He said he had to stay behind and help do clean-up for the party he was at. And that’s nice and all, but we had plans. I feel crazy. I should be glad that he’s so kind, right? Like that shows he’s a good person, right?” Your voice has cracked but it hasn’t quite broken.

He sighs and flops in the chair on the other side of his desk. “Y/N… I think you’re asking me for answers you already know.”

“But tell me anyway,” you press, tears welling in your eyes. “Our first date went so well. So why-y-” Your voice breaks.

“Hey.” He reaches across the desk and brushes his fingers against your arm. “I know you want me to help you make excuses for him... But you deserve someone who values your time. Clearly he’s just looking to waste it.”

“But—”

“Y/N, you don’t need someone like that. If this is what he’s like before you’re even together, then what kind of effort is he really going to put into a potential relationship? Not enough. There are so many people out there, people that would trip over themselves just to have the chance to be with you. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I think it’s a mistake that you even gave him another shot. He blew it. Twice. Delete his number. Forget him.”

“I know,” you croak. Tears fall from your eyes and you quickly swipe them away, focusing on the task at hand.

Namjoon is right and you know it, but you’re kind of irritated about it. You know it’s not really him you’re mad at, but Namjoon is a good enough placeholder while you try to sort through your hurt feelings.

You muster your most monotone voice as you stand. “I updated your drivers and deleted any cached files that might have been causing issues. Is that all?”

“Don’t be mad at me,” he pleads, rising to block your path as you step towards the door. “You have a big heart and I hate seeing it stepped on.”

In a matter of seconds you melt into his embrace and bury your face into his shirt. “I hate how fast I like people.”

“I know.” He pets the back of your head softly and squishes you against his chest. “It’s gonna be okay. How about udon later? My treat?”

“With beef?” you ask with a sniffle.

“With beef,” he agrees.

“Gyoza?”

“Mhm.”

“And takoyaki?”

“...You’re pushing it.”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

You slide the appetizer tray across the table towards Namjoon. “Here.”

He shovels a dumping into his mouth right before he speaks. “I could eat this every day for the rest of my life.”

“Could you afford it though?” you tease, taking a sip from the bottle of saké and crinkling your nose at it before passing it to him.

“Not if you’re joining me,” he snorts. “You’re supposed to pour it.”

“No, thanks.” You push the tiny glass full of liquid back towards him.

"Wow. Are you guys on a date?"

You know the source of the voice before you even crane your neck to see Jungkook.

"Pfft." Namjoon waves the question off with a deep laugh.

Despite finding the scenario of ever dating Namjoon absolutely absurd, you can’t help but feel a little insulted by the volume of his laughter. Namjoon’s hangout night was supposed to take your mind off of how unwanted Jason made you feel. Instead, the pit of insecurity within your stomach grows into a thick, tangled brush of hostility. Is being seen with you really so laughable?

“Why would we be?” you snap, turning your attention back to your bowl.

Heat settles in your face and you purse your lips, not daring to look at either of them. You try to wrangle some noodles to shovel in your mouth before you can say something stupid. Their eyes are on you. Jungkook is definitely confused but not alarmed by your hostility. It’s something he’s grown accustomed to. But Namjoon knows when he hurts your feelings, every time, and it’s easy enough to disarm your irritability.

“She’s way too good for a mess like me,” Namjoon says with a light laugh.

“Why are you here?” you ask, tone already softer than before.

"Post-work snackie," he answers, all too cheery for your sour mood. “Came for the noods. Mind if I join?”

He looks to the rosy-cheeked Namjoon for his answer, as you set your hoodie and purse down in the space beside you to give him yours. Namjoon betrays you by scooting over to make room on his side of the booth. You’d mentioned to him before that you’d eventually like to fix things with Jungkook, to somehow make steps for peace. But you only have so much mental energy left to give today.

“Not tonight, Jungkook,” you plead with a sigh.

The frustration in that puff of breath is enough to make Jungkook hesitate. He blinks a few times, wide-eyed. “What?”

“I just… can’t handle your bullshit tonight.”

Jungkook tries to break the uncomfortable tension with a grin. “No bullshit tonight. Promise.”

“No.” Your answer is firm and somehow so fragile that it makes both men worry their brows in the same fashion. “Please, just go away.”

He shoves his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and takes a few steps back. He doesn’t know what to make of your demeanor, but he can put enough together to know the basics. You’re upset, maybe not at him for once. However unlikely, that’d be a blessing. Maybe you’re still upset about that guy that stood you up a few days ago. If that’s the case, he probably shouldn’t stick around and risk letting on how much he knows about that.

He tongues the side of his cheek and nods, forcing a smile to his face. “Alright. I’ll just order it to go. Planned on that anyway. Catch you later.”

Guilt wracks your nerves as he walks away. The moment you look back at Namjoon, you’re faced with a wall of disappointment that threatens to topple the scale of decision-making in Jungkook’s favor.

“You’re judging me for that,” you mumble. The noodles between your chopsticks slip back into the broth.

“Little bit,” Namjoon admits, watching his friend sulk over to the entrance waitstaff. “You know he told me he’s trying to be nicer to you.”

“What? When?”

“The other day. We hung out.”

He keeps his answers short and ambiguous, hoping your curiosity has been piqued. Maybe this is the golden opportunity he’s been hoping for to patch your friendship.

“Was this before or after he harassed me on Tinder?”

Namjoon’s heart sinks into his butt. Of course Jungkook would make reconciliation harder than it needs to be. “When did he do that?”

“That night I showed up at your apartment like a big crybaby.”

“I went over his place for dinner after you left. Jin wanted to try a new recipe out on us.” That seems to at least make you pause.

“You guys talked about me?”

“Yup.” He goes back to chewing his food, knowing he’s got you hooked.

Your incredulous stare does nothing to pull information past his lips. “Joonie. What did you say about me? What did he say?”

“Mmm?” He slurps up a long noodle. “A lot of things. But they’re not really my words to tell.”

“No one likes clickbait, Joon.”

“Look, all I’m saying is that he told me that he wants to fix things. If you want specifics, maybe we can invite him to come eat with us. It might be easier for the both of you to talk about it over good food.”

You sigh, seriously considering his words even as you shake your head. “Joon, I’m already emotionally compromised. I really don’t want to cry in front of Jungkook tonight.”

“Why would you cry? This is a night for good things only. Namjoon-approved and protected. You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to... I just thought it might be nice to make some good memories with good friends.”

You roll your eyes but hold your pinky out for him. “Fine. But this is Joonie-Y/N time. You’re cutting into that allotted time slot, you know that right?”

Namjoon rests his elbow on the table, preparing to pinky swear to whatever you’re about to suggest. “Conditions?”

“He sits next to you, he doesn’t make fun of me if I cry, and…. he doesn’t get to talk.”

“Y/N.”

“Fiiiiine. He can talk. But he better be as nice as you say he’s trying to be.”

“We allowed to talk about Jason?”

“If it comes up…” you sigh. “You know, if he’s mean to me and I cry then you have to deal with it.”

He clasps his long pinky around yours. “Deal. But with how all that just went down, you gotta go tell him to come back. He won’t believe me if I do it.”

“Don’t let him be mean to me,” you plead, tightening your grip on his pinky and locking eyes with him. “Good vibes only.”

“He won’t be mean. Good vibes only.” Namjoon nods with a soft smile. “He really is a good person where it counts, Y/N.”

You push your things aside and force yourself to find Jungkook. He’s leaning against a wall near the entrance, scrolling through his phone while he waits for his order. You quietly request to your waitress that you’d like his food brought to your table. She’s nice enough about it, but your stomach churns regardless. It’s the anxiety.

You gingerly poke a finger against his shoulder as you approach. “Um. Hey.”

He seems startled at first, but smiles when he realizes it’s you. “Hmm?”

You take a deep quiet inhale, trying your best not to get lost in the butterflies his charming smile conjures in your gut. You try to tell yourself it’s anxiety and nothing more. Apologies are hard and scary. That’s all.

“I’m… sorry for being rude. I’ve had a rough week but I shouldn’t take it out on you. Come eat with us, please. Namjoon’s buying anyway.”

His eyes seem to light up with surprise and a warm smile deepens the creases around his eyes and mouth. The hope that these feelings of attraction would evaporate with time is a flame swiftly snuffed out and replaced with a burning heartache that deems denial useless. Even now, pangs of infatuation lurk below your feelings of disdain, breaking the tension of its surface with each beat of your heart.

“It’s okay,” he reassures you. “I shouldn’t have invited myself when I saw you guys. I should really get home and shower anyway.”

He looks so clean that you’d assumed he’d already showered. It’s not like you can smell him from where you stand. Maybe he’s lying, but at least you get the sense it’s coming from a place of politeness.

“Jungkook, I want you to come eat with us. Besides Namjoon wants someone to drink saké with him and I cannot keep doing it.”

“I see.” He offers a small laugh and rubs the back of his neck. “Are you sure? You seemed pretty against it before. What changed?”

“Namjoon told me you’re trying to be less of an asshole to me.”

“Did he?” he licks his lips and tries to hide his pleased smile. “I’m surprised you believe him.”

“He also promised me I could punch you in the dick if you make me cry,” you lie, completely stone-faced.

If he knows that’s a falsified statement, he doesn’t say anything. He looks past your shoulder to quirk a brow at Namjoon, who appears to be furiously texting at the table. Jungkook’s phone buzzes a few times against his palm and he’s fairly sure he already knows who it is.

“Come on. I already asked them to bring your food to the table.”

He reads Namjoon’s messages as he trails behind you.

NAMJOON: If you seriously want to apologize stick around, make her laugh, just listen when you need to

JUNGKOOK: Don’t worry

JUNGKOOK: I got u

Before Namjoon can send a text saying that Jungkook's response has the opposite effect, you’re peeking across the table, trying to get a glance at the screen.

“Who’s that?” you wonder. Namjoon’s not usually one to be so secretive with his texts.

“Hmm?” he raises his eyebrows at you and pours you a shot. “Stupid. Don’t worry about it.”

“Ha. Haha. Ha.” You gesture at your face. “You say to the girl with anxiety.”

Crinkling your nose at the glass he offers, you slide it across to Jungkook as he settles in next to Namjoon. “Here. I’m done drinking that stuff tonight.”

He regards it with a quirked brow. Something about your demeanor really has changed, but looking between you and Namjoon does nothing to answer the question of what that may be.

“Okay, so on reddit this guy was reaching. He’s going on about the symbolism in the red scarf—”

Your eyes gloss over the moment he mentions reddit. Is there anything you care less about than Joon’s favorite modern literary discussion threads?

“Got it. Not worrying about it,” you interrupt, bringing your bowl to your lips to slurp some of the broth.

Jungkook hides his smirk by throwing his head back to drink his shot. Namjoon is a genius. It might be scary if he ever decided to use his intellect for nefarious purposes. Lucky for the universe he uses it to protect others, like a real superhero would.

As the three of you dine together, you’re surprised to find that Jungkook isn’t being as annoying as he usually is. In fact, it seems the more he drinks outside of any competitive setting, the more affable he becomes. Maybe there’s something to Namjoon’s clickbaity words. He’s almost the person you remember meeting before the Halloween Party, maybe even more pleasant.

You’re grateful when the two of them start telling embarrassing stories so you can listen and laugh at the way they slur their words and interrupt each other. Laughter makes your heart feel light and full, and brave enough to take the last step to prove to yourself you’re done chasing Jason. As the two men fight over the last piece of gyoza and distract themselves over dessert, you quietly decide to clear your text messages from Jason. Your finger hovers over the delete icon for a second before purging his contact information from your device entirely.

It’s freeing to not have to worry about what you should send him. It’s frustrating to have tried so hard for so long and have nothing to show for it, but at least there will be no conversation history to pick apart anymore. It should feel perfect. That will definitely show him, right? You don’t have to reflect for more than a couple seconds to reinforce the memory of how little he actually reached out on his own.

He still has your number. The only time he ever called was on your first date. He never texted you unless you spoke first. He probably won’t even notice you’re gone. He’s probably relieved he won’t have to answer you anymore. He probably thinks you’re desperate for trying for so long. You don’t realize how well you wear your anxiety.

When you look up Jungkook is watching you while he chews with his mouth wide open. “Hey, why do-” He hiccups and swallows. “Why do you look so sad? You should have some ice cream.”

He scans the table for something to offer you, but he can’t seem to find what he’s looking for in his drunken stupor. After a few seconds his eyes finally land on his own plate where the other half of his red-bean cake sits.

“Do you want my taiyaki?” He holds the tail end of the fish-shaped cake out to you. “It’s really good!”

You can’t help but laugh at the unexpected sweet absurdity of the night. “Jungkook, I don’t want your half-eaten cake.”

He frowns and looks at the pastry. “Is it because I bit it? I’ll break off that part for you if you don’t want your mouth to touch that.”

Although Jungkook definitely is more drunk than Namjoon right now, the older man can’t help but be amazed by how well this is going. He loads up on green tea ice cream and digs his spoon in it. He shouldn’t have been so worried. Jungkook can put away the act when he wants to, especially once alcohol is involved and there’s nothing to prove. You guys are actually getting along. What a relief.

“No, really it’s okay.” You laugh.

Jungkook is already breaking the pastry apart in his hand, watching as it crumbles to pieces on his plate. He blinks a couple times and closes his mouth in a frown.

“I thought that would work.” He sounds utterly defeated.

The waitress walks over just in time to watch Namjoon stick a heaping spoonful of wasabi in his mouth. You're too busy laughing at Jungkook's forlorn expression to notice the way Namjoon's eyes water. His eyes drop to the ice cream he thought he shoveled into his mouth. Right next to the pristine, untouched scoop of green tea ice cream, he finds his spoon resting in the hunk of wasabi adjacent to it. He should really pay attention more. He pushes against Jungkook's side and motions that he needs to get up. The younger man spares a glance his way but Namjoon waves him off while mumbling something about the bathroom.

The waitress tries to keep her composure and looks between the pair of you. "How is everything?"

"Great! Could you please bring us some water?" you ask in your sweetest voice, realizing the two men with you should at least try to start sobering up.

You expected to have Namjoon crashing on your couch on a Friday night, or at least be dropping him off down the hall at Hobi’s place. Jungkook was not part of the plan, but you can’t exactly let him drive home inebriated. You know he’s not your responsibility but you’d feel guilty making him call for a ride home when you’re perfectly capable.

Although you hate to admit it, you’ve had fun tonight. If you’re being honest with yourself you’d like to see what he’s like without Namjoon nearby to police his moves. He’s been nice enough, but you want to know for sure this isn’t an act. You want to ask him if he’s made another bet, or playing some game since he hasn’t hit on you all night. Before you can get your line of questions in order, Jungkook turns to the server with large, pleading eyes.

"Oh! Can you bring some more dessert, please?"

He may be a grown ass man capable of charming the pants off of women everywhere, but right now he is little more than a child begging for seconds. Regardless of everything he's done, your heart softens, endeared and embarrassed by his drunken request to your server.

The waitress nods. "Sure, what would you like?"

His eyes fall to you for an answer. "What do you like?"

You blink at him. "Me? I thought this was for you."

He nods. "Mm. We can split it."

"Um, how about... tempura?"

"Banana?"

Jungkook’s voice is full of anticipation and his upturned eyebrows seem to bargain for agreement. It’s so hard to believe this is the same man who has been so cold to you for so long when he seems so open and warm now. You remind yourself it’s probably the alcohol. It’s probably some secret promise to Namjoon. Some bet with Hobi. Some game he’s playing. It’s probably anything other than what your dumb crush-stupefied heart wants it to be.

The waitress looks to you for approval and you give a nod. "Sure. Banana tempura."

The waitress awkwardly smiles as she gathers the empty platters and gives you a chance to break away from his endearingly drunken face. He smiles across the table at you and wrings his hands while you pick up your phone to check on those nonexistent messages. Maybe if you distract yourself enough you can ignore the feelings that are catching up to you tonight.

“Thank you for inviting me back over,” he says, reaching to the nearly empty bottle of saké to pour himself another shot. “I’ve... been wanting to talk to you."

"I’m surprised you didn’t blow up my phone.” It’s supposed to be a joke, but there’s a harshness in your tone that exposes a venomous bite beneath it.

He downs the shot and plants his elbows on the table, leaning forward on them. "I wanted to say it to your face."

“Oh, really?”

You don’t allow yourself to entertain the idea that he’s about to say anything groundbreaking, but you look away from your phone to meet those dark, twinkling eyes. Suddenly there’s hope in your gut. You’re desperate to put some distance between the feelings jumping to the surface.

“I’ve been a dick.”

“No shit.”

Though the fog of alcohol consumes his apology, his eyes focus on you with clarity. “I’m sorry.”

How long have you waited to hear those words? You never really thought about what you might say in response. His apology sits in the air between you for a moment before he speaks again.

“I’m really sorry. Namjoon is right. I am trying to be less of an asshole to you. We don’t…” he catches himself, “I don’t have a lot of close friends who are women.”

“You don’t say.”

That seems to cut through the fog. He hangs his head and focuses his gaze on the table.

“I never wanted to hurt your feelings.”

“Well, you did,” you mumble.

“I know... I’m sorry.” It’s like now that he’s said it once, he can’t stop saying it. He’s not sure how to make you understand. Maybe you do understand and you just won’t forgive him. Can he really blame you for that?

“Why?” you question; it’s the last barrier protecting your heart, the only thing keeping you from caving. “Why do you care now?”

Jungkook’s head lolls to one side as he sits back against his seat and stares at the nearly empty bottle of saké. “I don’t know. I guess I was thinking… I wish I had a save to reload. Before I messed up.”

It seems that’s the best you’re going to get out of him right now. The waitress sets down a beautiful platter of banana tempura meticulously arranged around a simple mound of ice cream, topped with a single cherry and drizzled with decorative chocolate. She places three waters on the table and you both take a moment to politely force smiles and pause your conversation.

He licks his lips and stares down at the plate and then back up at you. “Can we start over?”

“Depends. Are you gonna go back to being a dick when you’re not drunk anymore?”

“No, no. I mean it. I wanna try to be friends.”

“For real?” You swipe the cherry, pop it in your mouth and tilt your head to regard him. You can’t let yourself fully believe him. You want to. The earnestness in his drunken features charms you, but you hold onto a shred of disbelief as a crutch. You’ll wait for the moment he reverts. Hopefully this time you’ll be prepared for the whiplash that comes along with it.

“For real.”

You reflect on his apology as the pair of you dig into the dessert. “Maybe. Prove it.”

He perks up. He’ll take a maybe. Maybe means the damage he’s done might not be irreparable. The guilt weighing on his conscience feels lighter. It’s a start.

“I will. I’ll find some way to make it up to you.”

You roll your eyes, unwilling to put stock in his words. “Is this another bet with Hobi? About how quickly you can make me forgive you?”

Jungkook shakes his head furiously, wisps of wild black hair whipping his cheeks. “No, I mean it. I promise.”

You drag your lip through your teeth as you teeter on the line of acceptance. “What is a promise from a liar worth?”

He drops the flat of his palm to the table and he pouts. “Hey. I mean it…. Hm. If I break my promise…” His eyes scan the table for anything he can use to change your mind. He looks at his arm pressed against the table and then back at you. “You can choose my next tattoo.”

Your eyebrows rise into your hairline. “Really.”

He eagerly nods. “I’ll get whatever you want wherever you want. Just. Not my face.”

“I want that in writing,” you snort.

Jungkook glances around the table and pulls a napkin from under the plate of tempura. “Do you have a pen?”

“Jungkook, you don’t have to—”

“I’m serious.” He’s not taking no for an answer.

You shake your head and rummage through your purse to supply him with a pen. He smooths out the napkin he’s chosen to use as a conduit for his promise. When he’s finished writing he slides it towards you.

Princess

I’m sorry. I can make it right.

I promise. Please give me another chance.

If I blow it you can choose what & where my next tattoo goes.

As long as it’s not my face. Let’s be friends? #promise.com ♡ Jungkook

Of course he signed it with a heart. Despite his inebriation, his handwriting is still neat. Well, that’s one hell of a promise.

“Okay.” You fold the note and drop it into your purse. “We can try.”

His face lights up as he stuffs a piece of tempura into his mouth, happily chomping with his mouth wide open. He reaches for the saké but you slide a water in front of him instead.

“Friends don’t let friends get totally shitfaced at Hajime.”

He frowns at you but seems to accept your answer with a pout.

“Speaking of which… Where is Namjoon?” You crane your neck to look around the restaurant.

“Friday noodle nights common for you guys?” Jungkook asks, digging into the dessert between massive gulps of water.

“No, not really. We’re usually watching movies at my place or hanging with Hobi. But Namjoon wanted to take me out because I was sad,” you say, finally catching sight of your friend on the other side of the bar.

Jungkook’s chewing slows and he regards you with furrowed brows. “Sad?”

Before you can decide how you want to answer, Namjoon is scooting into the booth next to Jungkook and reaching for a piece of tempura. “Mmmm. What did I miss?”

“Y/N was telling me why she’s sad.”

Namjoon nods like he understands exactly what you’ve been talking about. “He’s a dick, right? Like how do you even stand someone up, not once, but twice? Makes no sense.”

“Joonie—”

“And I know what you’re gonna say, but I disagree. It has nothing to do with you or how you look, Y/N. You don’t need to workout like a maniac to try to change anything. Especially not for someone like Jason. I can’t even imagine—”

“Joon.” You click your tongue and slide a glass of water in front of him. “Please, shut the fuck up.”

As you glare at him, he looks at you with raised brows and wide eyes. Unsure what to do now that he’s obviously fubared the conversation, he casts his guilty gaze to his cup and brings it to his lips.

Jungkook stares at you with furrowed brows, trying to wait to let you fill in the blanks even though he’s itching to ask about everything. He picks another piece of tempura and stuffs it into his mouth, but when you remain silent the impulse to pry takes over. “Jason?”

“He stood me up…” you start, but you close your mouth when you realize you’re going to try to defend him. Your throat feels full, like you can’t get enough air through with a giant knot in it like this. You have to whisper so your voice doesn’t crack. “Twice.”

The couple drinking at the table nearby becomes a much more interesting place to rest your eyes than the two men across from you. Tightening your jaw doesn’t prevent the gloss from coating your eyes. Thinking about it makes you feel so stupid and desperate. Bending over backwards a thousand different ways to accommodate him couldn’t convince him to put in even a minimal amount of effort one time.

Jungkook’s eyebrows shoot up in genuine surprise. “Twice?”

The hurt you feel in your chest scorches your cheeks until anger is filling your head like a teakettle ready to release an unhealthy amount of steam right in Jungkook’s face.

“That’s what I get for giving people second chances,” you snap as you focus back on him.

Joon says your name like it’s a warning but you don’t need it. You feel guilty enough for projecting your anger onto Jungkook with a petty one-liner.

“Sorry. It’s not your fault. I just…” Your throat closes around the rest of the words.

Before an uncomfortable silence can settle over the table, Namjoon inches the bottle of saké with his fingertips until it’s in front of him. “Dating is tricky. Jason sucks. It sucks that he hurt you. But you don’t have to twist yourself into whatever you think he wants anymore. And that…” He pours the pitiful remainder of alcohol into a shot glass and slides it towards you.“...is worth celebrating.”

Jungkook silently nods his head in agreement. It’s obvious you’re on the verge of tears and he doesn’t want to be the thing that pushes you over the edge.

A soft smile curls the corners of your mouth. “That’s true, but…” you slide the glass back towards him and steal the last of the banana tempura. “I can celebrate back at my apartment. Finish your water so you’ll be awake enough to join me. Both of you.”

Jungkook perks up and happily reaches for his water while Namjoon gives you a proud, yet confused look. It seems like a new start to something. What that is remains to be seen.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Jungkook watches intently as the colors of the city shine through the windows. He runs his fingers over the soft blanket you keep in the backseat, mouthing the words to the song softly playing from your dashboard. Namjoon has been talking nonstop from the passenger seat, which is fine with Jungkook since he’s feeling a little tired. The last session of the day was a bit more intense than intended, but the client left happy and covered in sweat. A success. But Jungkook is sore and exhausted. Physically and socially.

A sense of relief floods him at the memory of his conversation with you. Things may actually be okay from here. Who would have thought crashing your noodle night with Namjoon could have yielded such results?

His head bobs to the music as his eyes wander across the scenery outside until he grows bored and they drift to the interior of your car. A graduation tassel swings from your rearview mirror as you turn. He follows the movement of the tassel when it swings towards you and his eyes land on your face, or at least what he can see of it from this angle.

You look focused and calm while conversing with Namjoon but your posture is a bit rigid and your hands remain planted on the steering wheel in complete control. There’s something about this candid snapshot of your persona that puts him at ease. Your voice is a soft contrast to Namjoon’s, but equally enthusiastic.

He tilts his head as he leans back in his seat, pulling the blanket over his lap and twisting the fabric around his palm. Your eyes flicker in the rearview mirror, catching his. He gives a tiny wave and rests his head against the cushion, fighting the temptation to close his eyelids for longer than a second. The more he listens to you laugh, the more he finds himself smiling. It’s goofy.

It’s also kind of cute.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Jungkook is surprised when Yoongi answers your knock; he thought he would be asleep. He’s even more surprised when you make yourself at home on his couch and guilt him with a puppy dog pout to make you a drink, and he complies. When Jungkook asks the same, Yoongi tells him there’s beer in the fridge while measuring out the ingredients for your cocktail. The suspicious sour ache of jealousy stabs his gut as he moseys to the fridge but he quickly shakes it off, settling on the floor in front of the tv with a beer in hand.

After a couple hours of drinking, laughing, and playing Jackbox games with the three men, you’re feeling much better about everything. Life is good. Friends are good. Alcohol is very good.

It doesn’t take much to get you drunk. You’re about as much of a lightweight as Hobi and for better or worse everyone has come to know that fact. What’s nice about drinking in Yoongi’s apartment is that you don’t have to walk very far to get home. Things don’t get awkward with the three of them together; it’s actually kind of nice, like a mini Saturday night pregame.

Soon Namjoon and Yoongi are snoring on the couch with a movie playing in the background while you stand in the kitchen with Jungkook. He pours another drink for himself, though he knows it will mostly likely remain unfinished. Tomorrow may bring a massive hangover, but tonight has been surprisingly pleasant. He feels like he’s finally on okay footing with you, maybe even on the road to serious repair. Amazing how well you get along when inhibitions are replaced by inebriation. If that’s what it takes, he’s determined to keep it up.

As he turns his back to place the liquor bottle in the cabinet by the fridge, you swipe a sip of the drink he’s concocted. He spins around in time to see you wrinkle your nose and stick your tongue out.

“Hey, that’s mine!” he pouts.

“Blegh. You can have it. Yuck!” Your face screws up again at the aftertaste.

He drunkenly giggles as he slides the drink closer to him. “What, don’t like sour?”

“Too sour!” You reach for the water bottle Yoongi gave you hours ago and attempt to rinse the puckering sensation from your mouth.

Amused, he tilts his head and watches you take gulp after gulp. He purses his lips and holds back the comment itching to escape, deciding to enjoy a sip of his drink instead. You shimmy out of your hoodie and tie it around your waist and his eyes lazily follow the motion of your arms, noting a slight difference in their musculature. Some errant thought about their shape leads him back to an earlier unaddressed comment that he’s finally comfortable enough to prod you about.

“What kind of workouts are you doing?” he blurts.

Suddenly you feel very exposed. You straighten in your seat and suck in your gut, hyper aware of every imperfection of your body on display to someone so in shape. You immediately begin to fidget with the sleeves of the hoodie you just tied around your waist.

“You don’t have to tell me. I just—” he pauses, exhaling a small breath and looking down at his drink as though he’s wary of continuing the thought.

“No, no it’s fine,” you assure him, too curious to say otherwise. “What is it?”

“When Namjoon said…” he sighs and takes a sip, smacking his lips and licking them before looking back to you. “I thought maybe I can prove myself to you by helping you come up with a plan.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You plant an elbow on the counter and lean on it.

“I want to,” he insists, reaching out for your arm.

His hand is like fire engulfing your skin and your eyelids flutter at the sensation. Instinctively you place a hand over his and rub your thumb anxiously over it. He looks down to where your thumb grazes his knuckles and then back up to your face with a surprised smile.

“Um… Everything,” you say, trying to sound as vague and nonchalant as possible so he doesn’t judge you for your lack of knowledge.

“Like, full body?”

“Uh...” You’ve managed to make a habit of going to his gym a few days a week while successfully avoiding him, but it seems that time is coming to an end. “I… machine.”

“Oh. Like at a gym? Did you join one?” He seems genuinely curious.

“Um, yeah.” Suddenly you pull your hand back when you realize the speed at which your thumb is moving.

“Which one?”

The more you say, the more suspicious you seem, but is saying less any better? Jungkook rests his elbow on the counter and simply looks at you but you don’t look back. A slow smile spreads his lips as the possibility dawns on him.

“Princess… Did you join Iron Kingdom?”

You puff your cheeks and force the air through the tiny opening of your mouth. You don’t offer any sort of confirmation and continue to avoid his gaze.

“And you didn’t tell me?” he playfully prods, drumming his fingers against your forearm.

“I… Yeah,” you admit, your voice small as you stare at the counter. “I didn’t want you to know.

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because?”

“I don’t want to give you another thing to make fun of me for.”

“I’m not gonna make fun of you.” When you don’t respond he tugs on your arm. The motion is enough to angle you towards him. “Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey.”

“What?” you grumble, staring at your lap even as you face him.

He takes your hands in his and drunkenly waves them around. “Heeeeeeeey. Look at me.”

He pouts until you reluctantly drag your eyes to meet his. “What?”

“Everyone starts somewhere,” he says softly. “Even me.”

The shift in his demeanor catches you off guard and you subconsciously lean forward as you relax. “Well I started with Hwasa, but I was too sore to ask for another session with her.”

He nods sympathetically, clapping his hand over yours. “You should try again.”

You shake your head. “I don’t know. I feel like…”

“Like?” he prods when you let the silence trail for a bit too long.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you sigh. “I feel like I don’t belong there. I look so stupid reading the instructions on the machines. I don’t even think I’m doing it right.”

“What?” He makes a sound between a laugh and a grunt. “There’s nothing wrong with making sure you don’t hurt yourself. Nobody knows how to instantly do things. If they tell you they do, they’re lying.”

“Or they’re Namjoon,” you say with a roll of your eyes, glancing over at your snoring friend.

He smiles and clicks his tongue against his teeth in thought. “I didn’t know what I was doing when I started.”

“Really.”

You’re skeptical. It’s always seemed like he was born in a gym. Or maybe hatched. He’s kind of inhumanly gorgeous. Maybe he sprouted from a flower like a mythical god.

“For real. First time doing squats. I think it was gym class? Yeah, I was like twelve or thirteen. I was… not very athletic. Didn’t play sports or anything. Kind of shy. Didn’t really have a lot of friends either…”

The way he trails off makes your heart hurt. Puberty isn’t nice to most people. It’s hard to imagine a world where someone like Jungkook isn’t instantly popular and naturally fit. While you’re not exactly the same person you were at twelve, a lot of your interests and personality quirks have remained the same. You’re still painfully awkward at times. How did he manage to overcome something like that? Is it not ingrained in him like it is you?

“Just a big dork, you know?” He laughs. “I see this girl I had a crush on, Amber. She’s looking at me. I think I have to impress her. So I’m stacking up weight and I think I’m hot shit and go too fast. Know what happened?”

“Please don’t tell me you dropped it on your foot or something,” you plead, squeezing his palms at the way he’s building up the story. The secondhand embarrassment is too real.

“I hear a pop.”

“No!” you gasp, bringing your hands to your face as if you can stop the past from happening.

“And pain. So much pain. I don’t remember putting the weights down but I remember ending up on my back, staring up at the ceiling.”

“Oh no. Knees?”

“Worse.” He points down to his crotch. “Pulled a muscle in my groin. Had to sit the rest of the day with an ice pack on my junk. Was not fun. My point is: don’t give up. You learn more as you go. Give Hwasa another shot.”

His anecdote gives you pause but you’re desperate to cling to the comfort of your anxiety. “My free trial with her is almost up and I don’t think I’ll be able to afford to keep at it.”

“More excuses,” he teases, taking a sip of his drink. “At this point I should just—” His eyes widen, a lightbulb practically forming above his head as he puts his cup down. “I’ll be your personal trainer!”

“Uhh…”

“No, no. It’s perfect. We’re friends now.” He smiles, proud of himself for finding a way to prove himself to you. “I can teach you everything you need to know about working out. I can set up a plan for you and figure out the best way to help you achieve your goals. Oh, man we’re gonna have to figure out your goals. What do you—”

“Hold on. Hold on,” you interrupt with a nervous laugh. “You’re missing the part where I still can’t afford it.”

He rolls his eyes and grabs your glass, holding it under the sink to refill it. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll cover it.”

You’re stunned into silence as you observe the expanse of his back, searching the black fabric of his t-shirt for the definition of his muscles. He sets the cup in front of you, waiting for your agreement. When it doesn’t come, he second guesses himself. Did he overstep?

“I mean if you’re okay with that. Would-would you want to do that?”

The innocent drunken sparkle in his eyes makes your stomach do a flip. When you woke up this morning you hardly thought the day would include getting sloshed with Jungkook and having him offer to take you on as a fitness trainee. It’s like he’s opened himself up just enough for you to see the soft mess beneath. You like it. You like it a lot and you kind of hate yourself for it. While you don’t know if you can trust him past the evening, you find yourself hoping you can.

“You won’t make fun of me?” you ask timidly before bringing the cup of water to your lips.

“It’s my job not to make fun of you. We start where you’re at and go from there. And like I said, I’ll cover the fees for as long as you want. No pressure.” He smiles at you. “What do you think?”

“...Okay,” you murmur with a nod of your head. “If you’re serious, then I’m… I’m in!”

His lips part to expose his teeth as his grin spreads. “Yes!”

As he brings his hand up in a sign of victory, his knuckles knock against his glass. You reach for the cup with impaired reflexes, hands fumbling over the slippery surface in conjunction with his. The sour contents spill across the counter as the pair of you struggle to right the glass. While he’s quicker at getting the glass upright, your brain is faster at processing what to do next and you already have a paper towel in hand, wiping up the liquid as fast as possible.

Your eyes follow the spill to the edge of the counter where it’s flooded over the side. Acting on instinct rather than rational thought, you quickly press down where the liquid has begun to pool in his lap. As you fold the paper towel over, you rub frantically as if the action will keep the stain from setting into the fabric. He shifts in his seat and squeaks out a sound so small that you can’t actually tell whether it came from him or the chair.

It only dawns on you how inappropriate your actions are when you glance towards his face and find his wide eyes gazing back at you. His cheeks, already flushed from inebriation, seem twice as vivid and his mouth is parted slightly as though he means to speak, but he doesn’t. Maybe he doesn’t want to embarrass you, but it’s too late for that.

Your palm stills against his crotch as the shape beneath becomes clear in your mind. For a second you’re frozen, but your lips work quickly to mumble an apology. It feels like an eternity before you will your drunken fingers to release the paper towel. The clearing of Jungkook’s throat is followed by a tiny giggle, then a full on snort. A grin spreads across your lips and you soon follow him into a fit of laughter. You thank the universe for the small mercy of being drunk enough to push your embarrassment to the side for the time being.

“I wasn’t thinking!” you wheeze, tears in your eyes from laughing so hard. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’ll dry.” He laughs, dabbing his pants and shirt in the absence of your hand. As he stands he pulls the hem of his shirt away from his torso and looks down at it. “Really. It’s my fault I’m so…”

“Sticky?” You quirk an eyebrow at him, a blatant flirtatious action thinly disguised as a joke as you eye the blot of liquor staining the lower half of his shirt.

Both of his eyebrows raise and a mischievous smile curls the corner of his lips. “...Wet.”

You consider his answer with a pleased hum and turn back to the counter to polish off the last of your water. You’re friends now, right? It can’t be that easy. But it kind of is. So what’s wrong with a little harmless flirting between friends?

Drunk brain, who happens to be a notorious hoe, assures you it’s great. Rational brain might disagree, but she’s taking a well-deserved nap. You’ve at least had a good night. You’re not sure it matters at this point who is giving you the attention you crave. It feels good. So good, in fact, you’re sure you can indulge drunk brain a little more.

You’re drawn to the inky shapes swirling around Jungkook’s bicep as he wipes the counter down. Every time your eyes begin to focus on an object marking his skin with some kind of meaning, he moves and you lose it. It’s brush strokes, isn’t it? You’ve definitely seen a paintbrush and mountains and a knife surrounded by roses. A swathe of grey and purple connects to each one you’ve seen, but you know there are more.

Before you can blurt that you’re dying to know how many he has and how bad it hurt to get them, he turns toward the sink and begins to work his t-shirt up his torso. You watch in awe as the toned muscles of his back are exposed. The image of the bright phoenix does little to hide their definition.

Trying to will yourself to look away is of no use; he’s hot and you’re drunk enough to acknowledge that fact. Of course he peeks at you just as the shirt slips over his head to find you open-mouthed and dazed, ogling him as though there isn’t any shame in the world that could pull your gaze from him. He turns to the fridge to give you a moment to compose yourself, nabbing a water bottle from the shelf in the process. You’re clearly not ready for the way he quickly spins on the balls of his feet to face you.

Y/N.exe has stopped working.

Your fingers hang in the air suspiciously until you lazily drop them. But Jungkook dons a toothy grin and has the audacity to look shy. He mockingly shields his chest from you with the shirt clutched in his hands.

“Princess! Are you… checking me out?”

Somehow you don’t let the fire in your face turn your brain to ash.“Pfft, no.”

“What’re you doing, then?” he teases with a laugh as he sits, scooting his chair closer to yours.

“Counting,” you reply simply, brow furrowed in concentration. To drive the point home, you poke at his flesh everywhere you can make out an object drawn into its surface.

“How many?” he wonders, watching with cloudy, amused eyes.

“Mmm…” You trail your finger down his arm and back up, following the curve of the brushstroke around his shoulder. “Can’t tell if this counts as one.”

He shrugs and rests his head on his palm as he leans against the counter. “What do you think?”

You hesitate when he quickly quirks a brow.

“I think… A lot.”

“Definitely accurate,” he says with a grin.

Awkward laughter steers the pair of you towards your waters. The TV in the background provides enough noise to steal your focus; you’re grateful for the distraction from the attractive man beside you. Drunk brain is telling you to touch him again, to grab his hand, to feel the touch of someone just for the night, to ruin every good thing this night has started to rebuild between you. Anything to stave off the emptiness of your bed, the 2AM thoughts of failure, and the drunken desperation to find someone, anyone, who will fall in love with whatever image you happen to project on your dating profile.

Heart pounding wildly in your chest and blood rushing through your ears, your fingertips tap against the countertop as they inch closer to where his arm rests. Luckily your futile attempts at nonchalance go unnoticed. Jungkook anxiously turns his water bottle over in his hands, trying to gather words in his brain before freeing them from his mouth.

“So…” he begins.

You jump at the sudden sound and retract your hand while he’s not paying you any mind.

“I was thinking. About that guy…”

You wish you could at least pretend you don’t know who he’s talking about. You’ve vented plenty tonight, but still your heart sinks. Deleting Jason’s digital footprint from your life was simple and quick, but the feelings of rejection and disappointment that swirl in the back of your mind spill forward the longer his pause continues.

“I know this probably means nothing coming from me. But I just— I know you liked him, but you can do better.“

Your posture stiffens at his reassurance and you find yourself grateful he’s not looking at you. Do you deserve better?

“You deserve better,” he affirms, as if somehow aware of your internal struggle.

“Thanks,” you murmur with a distinct lack of enthusiasm as you stare down your glass.

It's cry hours, isn’t it?

Realizing you don’t believe him, he takes a deep breath and nudges you with his elbow. “Hey.”

“What.” You refuse to look up because you know you’re on the verge of an irrational stream of tears over some guy you hardly knew. It’s stupid and you know it. But the wet warmth coating your eyes tells you it’s coming regardless.

“I’m... sorry that you don’t feel like you do. Some people can’t get over the weight of their own shit. But that doesn’t mean it’s on you to pick it up for them. If they can’t even bother to carry themselves to meet you halfway, then they’re not worth the effort.”

It’s a perfect time for your heart to seize up and it takes the opportunity to do so. The advice he offers doesn’t stave off the tears, but it resonates deep within you. Namjoon said something similar. It makes you ache to hear it again from someone else. It just leads you back to the same questions you keep asking yourself. What’s so wrong with you that people don’t even want to try? Is it your personality? Physicality? Is it a lack of confidence? What is it?

‘I can’t even get a shitty guy to like me. Maybe I’m the one not worth the effort.’ You don’t dare say those words out loud. Pity isn’t something you’re looking for. A warm body to fill your bed maybe, but not pity.

“Sounds easy when you say it like that,” you murmur, trying in vain to will the tears not to fall. You’re quick to swipe at them and force a smile. “I guess I have trouble giving up on people. It’s not that I’m naive. I try to be realistic. But no matter how many times I get fucked over I just... hope for the best in people. I can’t help it.”

He pats your arm reassuringly. “That’s why you deserve better.”

If only it was as simple as hearing those words and magically being able to believe it. A big chunk of your confidence has crumbled away and there’s no clear path to restoration. As the warmth of his palm comes to rest against your arm, you place your hand over his and squeeze.

“I don’t know if I believe it,” you pause and thoughtfully add, “but thanks for saying it.”

His eyebrows raise in surprise and he offers a tiny, “You’re welcome.”

A shaky chuckle passes your lips. All of his features seem to soften the more you look at them. Maybe it’s the drunken gloss coating his big brown eyes or the way his lips slightly part as he looks back at you. The tightly coiled nerves in your belly urge you to unravel.

Although it's a subtle gesture, he licks his lips as he smiles and it practically seals your fate. If you don't leave now you're bound to do something you'll regret.

"It's late. I should sleep."

Or masturbate.

The speed at which you launch yourself from the seat is unpleasant. You're not sure what's worse: the dizzying vertigo or waves nausea sloshing in your gut. Jungkook's reflexes may be delayed but he's a steady mass of muscle the moment you reach out to steady yourself.

"Whoa. You okay?"

"Maybe," you mumble, finding yourself drawn to the heat radiating from his skin. Instead of walking away, slump down to rest your cheek against his shoulder and sling an arm around him. You might be drunker than you thought. "I don't know."

"Hmm. What do you need, princess?"

"Just wanna stop spinning."

His stance shifts to better accommodate the additional weight you press against him.

"How about you take over Yoongi's bed tonight," he suggests softly. "He's passed out anyway."

"No, I should go home." You peel your cheek from the warmth of his skin.

“You gonna make it there?”

“Yes,” you say indignantly. The world may be a bit wobbly right now, but you’re certain you can handle the short stroll down the hall.

"Okay.” He smiles, loosening his hold. As you step back your foot catches on the leg of the chair and it drags loudly against the floor.

Despite Jungkook’s attempt to keep you standing by grabbing at your arms, he loses his balance and he drops to his knees. The chair clatters to the floor before your ass does. Luckily his grip keeps your back and head far from impact, but you’re too cramped to be comfortable.

“Are you okay?” he asks. Those big, dark doe eyes of his are frozen in fear and a frown adorns his face. He looks so serious it’s ridiculous.

You can’t help but laugh, wiggling backwards to make space between his body and the heat steadily building between your legs. “I’m fine. Stop making that face.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” He sits back on his feet and tilts his head to the side in confusion.

He breaks into a fit of giggles when you dramatically mimic his expression. You roll back onto your elbows, making another ridiculous face to further mock him.

“No, no. It’s more like…” Jungkook takes the opportunity to lean over you, reaching with one hand to squeeze your cheeks to pucker your lips. You blow a disjointed raspberry at him before pulling his hand off to the side.

While the clamor of the fallen chair did nothing to rouse the men on the couch, the sound of Jungkook’s hearty laughter is loud enough to disturb the rhythmic snores of Namjoon.

Jungkook sits back on his heels and peeks over the countertop. He seems miles away, even as you sit up and scoot in to bring yourself closer. Laughter fades into a quiet hum as Namjoon’s snoring resumes.

You're lost in the abyss of his gaze as he turns his head to look back at you. All that remains in your brain at this point is a foggy desire to tug on the silky spirals of his ebony hair until he presses himself against you one more time.

Your hand settles for following the curves of his bicep instead, wondering how it might feel to be wrapped within his embrace. Some might say liquor makes you bold and stupid, and they're right. They should say it. But it also makes you feel invincible, like a goddamn glowing Mario star power-up.

"Princess?"

Enraptured, his eyes follow the motion of your hand as it slithers around his arm and squeezes. Unable to ignore the prompt, he answers with a flex against your palm. His ego swells when you shiver and noticeably hold your breath.

You know it's a mistake. You know it goes against all of your sober judgement, but you find yourself doing it anyway. It doesn't matter that you still harbor a grudge that holds your heart hostage. Drunk hoe vibes are taking the wheel. You’re tired, drunk as hell, and just want to feel wanted. And he's here.

Every fiber of your inebriated being is singing in unison: Why the fuck not?

Heartbeat pounding against your eardrums, you attempt to gauge his reaction as you lean towards him. It's hard to tell from beneath half-lidded eyes, but you think he's leaning towards you too. If he isn't you suppose you can always play it off like you're just a mess. It's not far from the truth. Focusing on the tiny freckle below his lip, you allow yourself to finally close your eyes and go for it.

But the universe isn’t here for your dumb boozy bitch mistakes.

The front door swings open with the sound of jingling keys dropping to the floor. It snaps you back to reality and you freeze, realizing there's no defense that will save you. Jungkook is quick to disengage, poking his head above the counter to acknowledge Hoseok’s presence with a wave. But his friend is completely enamored with the company he’s ushering towards his bedroom.

“Yeah, baby? How bad?” Hoseok whispers to the giggling girl wrapped around his arm.

He pins the stranger against the door to drag his tongue across her neck. Their bodies move rhythmically in a slow grind, a precursor for what’s likely to come. Jungkook purses his lips. How long until one of them notices him watching? It’s not until the girl moans Hoseok’s name softly that Jungkook spares a panicked look towards you.

Oh shit.

You gesture for him to get down before he draws their attention. The last thing you want to explain is why you’re on your knees in Hoseok’s kitchen with a very shirtless Jungkook standing close by. He obliges your silent request, squatting down beside you.

“Feel how hard you made me?” Hobi chuckles quietly.

The girl giggles, her voice growing closer. “You gonna fuck me right here or what?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Naughty girl. What if my roommate wakes up? Looks like he has a friend over too. You really want them to see what a dirty slut you are?”

You can hear her giggle as he directs her where to go, failing to keep his voice down so you hear every filthy thing he says after. Your hands fly to cover your mouth. Is your skin made of lava? You want to blame it on the close proximity to Jungkook, but the only thing you can imagine is Hoseok’s dick and the eager mystery woman about to be impaled by it. Can you scrub your brain of this memory? How are you supposed to look at him after this?

Jungkook watches your face carefully, trying his hardest not to laugh. Your eyes look so big he’s pretty sure they could roll out of your skull any second. Are you really so innocent? The way you cover your mouth says you are, but maybe it’s just the shock. Maybe you’re just trying to not laugh. Or scream. Or breathe? It kind of looks like you might pass out.

Are you gonna make it, princess? he wonders.

Once you hear Hoseok's bedroom door close, you fuss your hands over your hair and scramble to your feet, releasing a big exhale. The hushed words fall from your lips while you scurry away like a timid mouse. "I should go."

Despite being too far to make contact, he reaches out as you round the counter. "Wait—"

As soon as the word leaves his mouth he struggles to come up with the rest of his statement. There’s no reason to keep you here, except to maybe laugh a little about what just happened to smooth over any second-hand embarrassment. So why doesn’t he want you to go?

He swallows down the blank space caught in his throat and searches every last crevice of his brain for something of import to say. Guilt weighs his gut down, though there isn’t a clear cause. He’s probably screwed something up again without realizing it.

“Thanks for giving me another shot,” he says softly.

You breathe a sigh of relief and offer a tiny smile as you half turn, your hand already on the door handle. “Don’t blow it.”

He nods with a smile. “I won’t. Goodnight.”

“‘Night,” you mumble.

As soon as the door is closed you practically sprint down the hall to lock yourself within your apartment. Maybe it will also lock out all the mistakes your brain has made tonight.

The world feels colder now that you’re not pressed against the human-shaped heater that is Jeon Jungkook. Thinking about him makes your heart swell and ache at the same time. Regardless of how badly you wish you'd asked him to bed, you know loneliness is fleeting and guilt would be a far worse feeling to be saddled with.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Jungkook picks up the fallen chair, finding your soft, worn hoodie draped over it. Rubbing a thumb over the material, he considers running it back to you, but he can't remember which door is yours. It's not like he's been here often enough to know. Instead he slips his arms through the sleeves before flipping the hood over his head.

He settles on the floor in the space he previously claimed for the night, pulling a blanket out from under Yoongi's ass. Yoongi rolls his head up, a scowl on his features though his eyes remain closed. He grumbles but lies down, facing the couch.

Jungkook regards his friend for a moment before deciding to drape the blanket over him instead of claiming it for himself. Jungkook rolls onto his side and fluffs the throw pillow under his head. As he watches the credits roll on the TV, he nuzzles into your sweater.

He closes his eyes, thinking of you. He knows he shouldn't linger on the little occurrences of the night, especially with how foggy his brain is. He can't trust anything about his memory.

Still he thinks of the way your fingers trailed along his arm and curled tightly around his bicep. He lets himself dwell on the tiny sound you made, the involuntary tremble of your body, and the subsequent hitch in your breath.

He smiles and inhales the subtle scent you've left behind. A new spark of adrenaline fans flames that inflate his ego, spreading warmth from his stomach up into his chest. The world may wobble around him right now, but the little magical warmth within his gut helps him comfortably drift off to dreamland like he's the world's most immovable object.

#smutcentralnet #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #bts fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook x you #bts fluff #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic

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vegalocity · 2 years

Text

A Place for Stories

I don't do Carrds or anything so i'm gonna level with you guys, this is a very simple post for me to pin up as general fandom information.

My name is Vega, I'm interested in a lot of things, I'm an artist/writer and I make dumb crossovers and sad AUs

I have several current projects and several complete ones

there's a lot of them so this is going under a cut, but here's my art tag and here's my writing tag and here's my AO3

AUs/stories i'm working on/have completed are for these fandoms

Boku no Hero Academia

Gravity Falls

Lego Monkie Kid

The Owl House

Miraculous Ladybug

Undertale

the status of any of these stories doesn't matter, if you're curious about literally any of them, or if you saw that i reblogged a prompt meme recently and want to see something in any of these AUs/stories

BNHA

The Magi Underground

On God I am still working on this. But it's what it says on the tin. Magical Girls and magical warriors still very much exist in the work of heroes and Quirks, they just have to be much more secret

Ships: Bakugou Katsuki/Hanasaki Momoko (Bakupeach) Miscellaneous other crossover ships

-in progress but it's slow bc there are SO many magical girl series i'm putting in here-

Undertale/Mister Peabody and Sherman

Twice Burned and Thrice Shy

Chara and Asriel were both revived, but Chara and Frisk have very... differing views on exactly who is responsible for some... certain timelines... And unfortunately for Chara, Frisk got to tell their story first. Chara ends up running into an unlikely dynamic duo, and finds before too long, that they aren't bereft of having people in their corner. Another human child, and the possible dog-monster that acts as his father are very invested in helping them out.

Ships: None

-In Progress but slow because this fic is too damn complex for speedy updates-

Miraculous Ladybug

Miraculous Rewrite

This is a project that had been hatched between myself and @gererrin, we rewrote the entirety of Miraculous Ladybug in the span of 4 seasons, serializing the narrative while also letting many episodes exist in standalone format, focused more on worldbuilding and character arcs, and also a healthy dose of queer characters, polyamory, and an actual sliding threat scale

Ships: So many

-Complete, spinoffs in progress-

LMK

Oblivion

if you know me for anything from LMK it's probably this fic series/AU Basis.

A second Porty Clone had been summoned and slipped away during a battle set in the indeterminate future, and comes into possession of a very dangerous magical artifact; a record with the ability to brainwash demons, and he's got his sights set on a certain fire demon he knows his creator is sweet on

(this is a psychological horror so mind the warnings, also there's a bad ending that's bore quite a lot of fruit)

Ships: Spicynoodles, but like, don't root for a happy ending for it

-on Hiatus-

Tyrant Prince

This is a splinter of the Oblivion AU, more specifically the Bad End version where Porty Clone was able to make Xiaotian believe that this whole thing is Good Actually.

You know what they say about absolute power

AKA the Traffic Light Trio deserve a villain au or two that aren't swap aus or possession aus

Ships: Spicynoodles, Freenoodles, Ironbull, Silktea (they're all like super fucked up though) and Cyberhunt (the only not fucked up one)

-in progress, being fleshed out by an rp with @unseelie-robynx so you can ask her for details too-

White Bone Amnesia AU

Xiaotian is the actual son of Sun Wukong, MK on the other hand doesn't remember much of anything of his own past from before he worked at Pigsy's Noodles, he's not the only one with memory issues.

Ships: Spicynoodles, MksDadsShipping

-Currently being reworked-

The Little Detective

This isn't TECHNICALLY an AU, but it's the main story for my OC, a six year old child detective named Wong Minyi, looking for her missing Father and getting into schenanigans in the world of Magic and monsters and solving some mysteries while she's there. (Syntax her father is Syntax this is not a secret) (also here's Minyi's general character tag if you just want more information on her)

Ships: None (though maybe some in the Minyi general tag bc she's a fun minor character to have in ship stories sometimes)

-in progress but its slow-

Animorphs AU

The Lady Bone Demon is replaced as the major antagonist with the Yeerk empire. a mishmash of Animorphs and Monkey Kid plotlines full of new allies new enemies, and the horrors of War and such

Ships: Tripsun/Tangsun/this ship has too many names, Pigsy/Tang/Syntax, Xiaojiao/Aximili, Spicynoodles, Ironbull

-In progress-

Theatre AU

Well it can't all be sad in here, this is my token patented Civillian AU, The Flower Fruit Theatre is one of the most popular shoestring budget theaters in the city, entertaining the masses with reasonably priced musicals with casts of college students and some old greats only slightly past their prime, they also find themselves in a one-sided rivalry with the most expensive hoity toity 'musicals are for fools' theatres in the city, the Bull King's Chambermen.

Ships: Spicynoodles, Peachtea

-not actively on hiatus but not currently being worked on-

Princess Bride AU

Its what it says on the tin, Red Son is Buttercup, Xiaotian is Wesley, the casting falls from there

Ships: Spicynoodles

-completed, getting additional scenes written up for the AO3 release-

Atlantis: The Lost Empire AU

On god i am working on this; summary to come later.

Ships: To be determined

-in progress-

Owl House

Prisoner Princess Luz

Belos has decided to adopt the human that's been causing him problems.

Her opinion on the matter is wholly irrelevant.

This is a dark one my guys.

Ships: Raeda, Lumity, Scarlow

-in progress, currently being reworked-

Gravity Falls

Equivalent Exchange

i kinda hate that i'm putting this here because it's so old, but for the sake of completion it's going here.

Gravity falls Madoka Magical crossover AU. Mabel Pines has been scoped out by the Kyubey, typical Madoka Magica dark things ensure

Ships: None

-completed-

#vega speaks #monkie kid #Lego Monkie kid #Boku no hero academia #Miraculous Ladybug #Gravity falls #The Owl House #Undertale

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letsloveimagines · 3 years

Photo

Title: Crush II

Pairing: Corpse Husband x fem!youtuber!reader

Collab with: @the-winter-sxldier-posts

Requested by: Anonymous

Request: You HAVE to write a part 2 of crush where they meet! It would be so cuteeee!

Word Count: 1667

Warnings: a little swearing but mostly fluff

Note: The images doesn’t belong to me, all the credits go to the respective creators. I only made the collage. Also, I will not make anything to make Corpse uncomfortable, if he ends saying he doesn’t like fanfiction about him, I will delete this.

Part I: Here

♦⋅☆⋅♦ Y/N pressed her left foot on the clutch pedal, turned the car key and heard the engine roaring loudly afterwards. She added the address on the GPS, looked at herself in the mirror for a moment taking a deep breath, trying to stay calm and focused. She put the car in first gear, and started driving from her apartment complex's private parking lot to the main road.

As her small and comfortable car drove through the streets of Los Angeles, the girl kept listening to what was on the radio. Every now and then, her stomach would churned with nervousness but she would take a deep breath and smile uncertainly to herself, trying to convince herself that everything would be okay.

Fed up with the podcast she was listening to, turned her car's Bluetooth on when she had to stop at a red traffic light, she switched to her current favorite Playlist.

Distracted by the music and humming softly accompanied by Rihanna's voice, she put the first gear back on, moving the car forward when the traffic light turned green, quickly shifting to the second and then putting on the third.

Her mind was racing, however.

Life had gone well since that specific day... since Y/N and Corpse confessed their feelings to each other. Their mutual friends that they played with knew the truth and were extremely happy for them, which was wonderful and soothing. Outside of them, no one else knew what had happened.

Corpse and Y/N talked every day, stayed on the phone every night until one of them fell asleep unfortunately, the girl always fell asleep first, and saw each other through FaceTime whenever they could.

In other words, the two could say that they were basically dating already... Even though there was never a real question. But perhaps that was about to change, for the day had finally come when they would meet physically.

A sound of receiving a phone call invaded the car and interrupted her thoughts. With a smile on her lips already knowing who was, Y/N clicked on the answer button and waited while entering a roundabout.

"Hey." That characteristic deep voice was heard.

"Hey you." She replied while looking briefly at his name written on the car screen.

"Are you on your way yet?"

"Yes, I just left the house. I'll be there In about two hours, depending on the traffic today."

Corpse cleared his throat and Y/N almost visualized him playing with his rings, and messing with his dark curly hair. "Are you sure you haven't forgotten anything?"

"Well, I hope not. I’ve had my bags packed for two days, but I think I have everything that is necessary with me. If not, there is no problem really." She replied.

"This is going to... This is really going to happen isn't it?" She could hear the smile in the man's voice.

"Yes, Corpse, it is. We will finally meet in person."

"I can't wait to see you." He whispered.

Y/N felt her cheeks warm for a moment, and she knew that if she looked in the mirror she would see a dark pink tone on her skin. She bit her lower lip in an attempt to stop the huge smile. "I can't wait to give you a big hug and tell you everything face to face."

Corpse laughed deeply, his tone was warm and full of emotion. "I know... I am anxious, and I am not going to lie about it. I'm super nervous. My hands are shaking so much that I don't even know how I haven't dropped my phone yet."

"Oh, Corpse..." Y/N whispered with a heavy heart, but was attentive to the road at the intersection where she was. "There is no reason to be nervous, it's just me. It’s just us."

"I know..." He sighed softly. After a few minutes without speaking, enjoying the comfortable silence between the two and listening to the sound of the Y/N’s car motor, he continued. "Well..." Corpse cleared his throat. "I will let you concentrate on your driving. Be careful and pay attention to the road."

"I will, I’ll see you later."

"Bye."

"Bye, Corpse."

The call ended but the anxiety and nervousness did not. However, only the sound of his voice and the small conversation they had was able to make Y/N smile all the way to San Diego.

♦⋅☆⋅♦

Y/N pressed the turn signal, the green arrow flashing to the right, and parked the car in an empty parking space in front of the building. The woman's neutral and almost robotic voice came from the GPS saying: You have reached your destination. Shaking in her place, the girl put on the brake and turned off the car, taking a deep breath trying to calm herself once more.

It was now or never... Should she send him a message to let him know she was already there? Should she just knock on the door? Her hands were shaking so much, and her heart was beating so hard and so fast that it almost hurt.

She sat in the driver's seat for a few more minutes, so nervous she might pass out. It is better to just go there, she thought, the longer it takes the more nervous I will become.

She took a deep breath, unbuckled her seat belt, removed the keys from the ignition and quickly got out of the car, closing the door behind her, and going to the trunk to remove the pink suitcase. When it was on the floor next to her, she closed the trunk and locked the car safely, looking at the intimidating building in front of her.

Without further ado she approached it, opened the entrance door, climbed the stairs with some difficulty to his floor, and trembling, she shyly knocked on the door with her knuckles.

That door was opened so fast that it even scared her.

They were both looking at each other almost stunned... Finally they were there, in person, just a meter away and with a spine of the door separating them. Corpse was even more beautiful in person, and Y/N found herself lost in his dark eyes for a while.

"Hi..." She said sheepishly.

Corpse looked at her examining her from head to toe as if he couldn't believe she was real. Finally he smiled so beautifully that she almost forgot to breathe. "Hi." He replied.

Y/N dragged the suitcase a little closer to her, uncertain how to proceed. She didn't have time to think, however, as Corpse seemed to get tired of the waiting and shyness between them, crossed the space between the two and took her in his arms. His body was warm against hers, extremely hot, and his embrace was loving and passionate. Y/N inhaled his attractive scent - a mixture of soap, men's perfume and something else - and Corpse laughed through her hair.

"You’re here!" He exclaimed loudly, laughing deeply, spinning in circles with her still in his arms laughing out loud like he was.

When the two were inside the apartment, Corpse released her and pulled her suitcase inside as well, closing the door to prevent any curious neighbor from trying to see what was going on.

The two of them stayed there with smiles so big on their faces that their cheeks hurt… But it was definitely a good pain.

"I don't even know what to say..." Y / N confessed, practically shaking with excitement in her place.

Corpse smiled again, taking her hand timidly and gently, caressing her skin and interlacing their fingers and pulling her closer to him. "Me neither."

They were silent just enjoying the moment, and enjoying the fact that they were there, together... that it was real. How many times had they imagined this? How many times had they dreamed of that moment?

Corpse lowered his head slightly looking into her eyes intently, but his brows furrowed as if something troubling was going through his mind. "I…"

"What is it?" Y/N questioned worriedly.

Corpse made a shy expression. “Can I… Can I kiss you?”

Y/N's cheeks caught fire but her smile was so big, and she was so happy that she felt like she was going to explode at any moment. "Yes! Yes, of course you can…"

The young man approached, with his hand on Y/N's waist to pull her closer and the other one climbing up her arm, her shoulder, then her neck and resting on her burning cheek, where he was caressing the hot skin. Their fresh, labored and nervous breaths mingled, closing the distance until their lips touched, finally in what felt like an explosion of fireworks or an explosion of magic. Corpse's lips were soft and warm against hers, kissing her tenderly, as he brought their bodies together even more almost as if he was afraid that she would disappear at any moment.

The kiss was a mixture of lips and tongues, longing, passion and mostly love. It ended faster than they would have liked, but they stayed in each other's arms, sharing passionate smiles.

After a moment, Corpse whispered, "I still think this is a dream, and that I'm going to wake up after the normal three fucking hours that I can barely sleep."

Y/N laughed with her heart leaping and butterflies in her belly, playing with the laces of the black sweatshirt he had worn that day, wrapping it around her fingers and looking him in the dark eyes. "Me too, I've pinched myself hundreds of times today just to make sure this was real. But if this is a dream, I don't want to wake up anymore."

"I will punch the face of anyone who tries to wake me up." Corpse joked making Y/N let out the laugh he liked so much to hear.

"I love you." She whispered dizzy with emotion.

"That’s good, because I love you too."

♦⋅☆⋅♦

Tag List: @breathygasps @unicornblood4ever @mintchip17 @jay-jay-love

#corpse husband #Corpse Husband Fandom #Corpse Fandom #corpse fanfiction #fanfiction #imagines #one-shot #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband oneshot #corpse x reader #corpse x y/n #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband x you #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband x female reader

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ive-tumbled-down-a-rabbit-hole · 3 years

Text

MariJon Week

Day5: Social Media/Life Swap

It's gone midnight but it's still day 5 somewhere in the world and I've 3% battery left!

This prompt was not playing ball to write but it's done! It's not proof read but it's finished finally!!

Masterlist

Day1 Day2 Day3 Day4 Day6 Day7

____________________________________

Who would have thought a hashtag would have resulted in this. A “small series” of videos. A quick succession of tweets and a “innocuous” request have ended up like this. Even more so that she didn’t really used twitter a whole lot.

Marinette smiled amusedly, her attention to watching the chaos unfold in front of her. If Ayla was upset, then it was her own fault in the first place.

Six months ago:

Miss Bustier’s class were used to Marinette ranting about Akuma designs and costumes. The class had taken to recording these outbursts as a result and posting edited versions on twitter. She had gained her own hashtag because of a particular caped akuma; #EdnaModeHasSpoken

Someone (Alix) had thought it would be amazing idea to ask for requests to have the Parisian Edna Mode “discuss” global villains. Alix and Kim printed off what pictures they could find on the net of them and primed Alya up to record and let Marinette roll.

And oh boy did she roll. She tore into the Riddler’s wrong shade green and purple mix. She praised Lex Luthor on suit colours until she ripped into him on the suit cut. With Prankster she bemoaned the lack of originality of it all, a hybrid attire of Ridder and Joker.

Over the course of a few months almost biweekly Alya posted a new update of “Edna’s” views on the world of villain fashion. The harshest critique came when villains chose poor fashion rather than the poor Akuma victims who were forced by Hawkmoth.

Three months ago:

A new type of request came in to Alya's account. Specifically from @Zombieboy requesting that Edna review Gotham Vigilante's as she had done a tremendous reviews on Gotham's Rogues.

Seeing the pictures Alya had found, Marinette let a high pitch shrill before starting to pace.

"What the… how the… underwear on top of tights?! Where's the Kevlar?! The protection!!!

Traffic light children!!! With not trousers!!!

Is that a tampon on his head?! A swim hat?!

Why skin tight?! They dont have magic! Have they lost their marbles???"

Marinette drew in a deep breathe before releasing

"Capes!!! Are they trying to kill themselves. It's hero 101 no capes?! What are they thinking. They're from Earth … they are from Earth right? Superman obviously copied Batman's fashion sense and he's an alien. The poor man is blind but coping Batman's fashion. It's hideous!!

The only semi decent is tampon head as at least he looks like he has some armour protection. And no Cape. The leather jacket is tolerable but he needs a different cut!"

Marinette's pacing inreased with her disgust and somehow had picked up her sewing scissors and started to wave them around as she got more and more wound up.

"Capes and underwear!! Are they serious about saving the world dressed like that. It's an eye sore. Capes!!

What is with Gotham fashion?!?"

"Em… can you put the the scissors down please?!"

Alya ended up having to stop filming to help Alix try wrestle the scissors from Marinettes grasp.

#EdnaModeHasSpoken #BatmanLostHisMarbles #BatmanVsSupermanFashionCrimes #UnderWearAsOuterwearNoThankYou #CapesNoCapes #EdnaNeedsToPutTheScissorsDown

One month ago:

Some how unintentionally Marinette had managed to get into the middle a Twitter battle between Metropolis and Gotham. @TrueHeir had decided that Gotham had obviously superior fashion crimes than Metropolis stating that being the worst at fashion was a skill that Metropolis didn't have as they had to copy Gotham. Which had caused a backlash led by @BoyOfSteel stating that Metropolis moved away from wearing pants and having a leather jacketed hero first.

The battle online got quite heated until @TrueHeir demanded that the mysterious Edna wade in and settle the debate.

The issue suddenly became that Edna never really had her whole face shown @SassyFox managed to film it in such a way that it was hidden. Edna didn't seem to have Twitter. The way to solve it was to track down @SassyFox.

One week ago:

Jon and Damian via covertly using the Bat Computer managed to track @SassyFox down to Paris. They located a small(ish) area that based on the videos and pictures regularly taken. The pair looked at each other and knew that's where they were heading. They wanted, no NEEDED to Edna to settle this arguement of there's.

Checking that no one was about the pair zeta'd to Paris. They were men on a mission. A mission to resolve this fashion disaster crisis. Was Batman and Gotham or Superman and Metropolis the worst dressed.

They'd spent the day camped out in a local park. But no sign of anyone remotely like @SassyFox. To replenish supplies the pair decided to try out some local cuisine.

Jon insisted on this bakery. All the reviews rated it as one of the best in Paris and he had to try it. Walking in he met with the heavenly delight smells of pastries. He could feel his mouth drooling with the onslaught of sights and smells. He dragged Damian in to look at all the treats hidden behind the glass. Jon was drawn out of his pastry driven haze by a sweet voice asking if he wanted anything. Looking up to the source of the fairy like voice was a cute face. Blue eyes shimmer with amusement and blush coloured gloss graced lips twitch towards a suppressed smile.

"Everything!" Jon responded without thinking. Causing an eyebrow to raise on the girl's face.

"Tt! What Kent means is what would you recommend? Savour and Sweet."

Smiling a broad grin the girl launched into describing the pastries and treats and suggesting recommendations. She packed their goodies up and sent them on there way.

One day ago:

"Morning Jon, Damian, the usual?"

"Please, Marinette. Could you also pack another box on those macaroons you had yesterday as well?"

"Sure things. I take it they were a success?"

Jon nodded in agreement.

Jon and Damian after their first visit and repeatedly ended up at the Dupain-Cheng Boulangerie and Patisserie over the course of the week. Jon was hooked on the sweets and maybe a little (a lot according to Damian) taken by Marinette, the girl at the counter.

"The macaroons were above average."

"That's Dames speak for excellent" Jon cheerful supplied. "Hey Marinette are you on twitter?"

Jon picked up some cursing under her breath something about Alya and she was going to *kill* her before she plastered a fake smile on her face.

"I'm not. My friend uses it all the time though."

"Oh, so you've heard about the Parisian Edna Mode?" Jon cocked his head to the side. Marinette's heartbeat had picked up. Through gritted teeth so responded,

"Yup. I've heard about *Edna* my friends are slightly obsessed with it all. They *adore*her reactions."

She smile loosed at the American pair as the morning rush started to pick up.

"Sorry guys, I best finish your order off and help Maman deal with the queue building."

She effectively concluded the conversation in a polite and effective manner before waving them off with the supplies for the day.

"She knows more than she is letting on."

"Mentioning Edna made her heart beat quicker Dames. Do you think she knows her?"

"It is a high potential. Today we should stay near the bakery as formour hunting grounds."

Now:

Damian and Jon were at the park near the bakery. It appeared Marinette was off today so was missing from the bakery so Jon was "sulking".

By pure chance or coincidence, potentially luck, though the pair saw her enter the park with a group of friends and set up a picnic for them all. One was setting up music to play while others seemed to be playing an elaborate (childish) game of tag. Marinette her self looked gorgeous in a pale pink sundress. She outshone everyone she was with. When Marinette saw them she gave them a wave causing a blush to cross his cheeks.

They were content observing from a distance until Jon grabbed Damian's arm.

"It's her!!!"

Even from the distance, Marinette was mimicking Edna's wound up animated gestures of frustration. Jon could hear the growl and heat in her voice. It was a perfect match. Damian watched while quickly researching Marinette and who the girl filming was. It was all lining up. The final evidence was when a pink hair girl threw herself on Marinette crying out "Em!!" in a similar fashion to the scissor incident. Em wasn't a name but M short for Marinette.

Damian finally had found his mark and was determined to end this war with him being correct. This time it was him dragging Jon towards the girl.

"You're Edna!! You didn't tell us yesterday when we asked about it!"

"Yeah, my gurls Edna what about it. Who are you?" Alya quickly jumped in.

Marinette flapped at Damian, flustered by his bluntness.

"TrueHeir and BoyOfSteel. Edna needs to make a decision on which city has the worst fashion. Gotham or Metropolis. Once that's done this arguement can be settled and we can move on."

"What?!?! Damian??? Jon??? You've come all the way to Paris to resolve that??. What the…" Marinette looked confused at the pair. It seemed extreme to go to so much effort to find her just to settle this.

"You've stalked my gurl!!! You freak!! That's crazy. You're crazy!! All because of an arguement you two got into!!"

"Alya… you may have started it with posting all this?"

Marinette tried to defuse the situation which didn't really work.

"So who is worst?!" Demanded Damian.

"I… errr…." Marinette looked between the two boys. Which ever city she chose wouldn't be the end of this so she needed to think quickly. But she was panicking now….

"Star City!" She cried out.

The boys stopped and looked at her.

"What?!?! No! That's not what we asked. Why? You had to have chose Gotham." Damian was not impressed and about to launch in to integration mode when Alya cornered him and demanded that now he knew that he had to leave Marinette alone.

Jon just stared at Marinette. She had completely changed the rules and cleverly removed potentially tension that could of occured between him and Damian. The bragging right was taken away and handed elsewhere. With that thought Jon gentle grabbed Marinette's hand to get her whole attention. He softly kissed her cheek and smiled playfully at her.

"Sneaky move. Nicely played though Edna."

Marinette grinned up at him, knowing he got what she did before the pair turned around to watch the chaos of their best friends.

#maribat #maribat au #marijon #marijon week 2021 #jon x marinette #marinette x jon #ml x dc #dc x ml

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hxseok-honee · 3 years

Text

atlas heart || part 37

a/n : uhm,,, so this was 20 pages long,,,, whoops -- hope you enjoy the pain!

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“Jimin… psst-- Jimin, wake up--”

“Wake up, motherfucker!” Jimin’s eyes fly open right before he’s shutting them again, unable to cover his face in time to block the throw pillow that’s being launched at him. It falls to his lap when he sits up, and Jungkook chuckles in the doorway.

“Y/n’s been in here for fifteen minutes, trying to be nice and soft about waking you up, but you sleep like the dead. We’re gonna miss our ride at this rate.” Jimin blinks the sleep from his eyes as he focuses in on the girl that’s kneeling next to him on the bed. She’s nodding along as Jungkook speaks, and even in his half-awake state, Jimin finds her insufferably cute. He also notices that she’s fully dressed and seemingly ready to leave, her backpack by the door.

“What time is it?” His voice is groggy, but the yell he lets out when Hoseok appears suddenly at the door, disheveled and angry, is crystal clear. It looks like the Slytherin’s also just woken up, which is bad news for someone who’s yet to see Hoseok’s infamous ‘morning temper’.

“It’s almost 4:30 in the fucking morning, that’s what time it is. Our ride gets here at 5 -- I’m leaving whether you’re ready or not.” He disappears then, dragging a fearful Jungkook with him back to their room to pack their bags. Y/n turns from the doorway, settling back on her heels as she chuckles awkwardly.

“He’s just really excited to see Yoongi…”

When a minivan fit for a soccer mom with 4 kids screeches to a halt in front of the house, Jimin has to rub at his eyes to make sure he’s seeing things correctly. At the wheel sits Jin, an alarming amount of excitement in his eyes as he chugs coffee from what’s less of a cup and more of a vase with a lid. In the passenger’s seat is Namjoon, clinging to his seatbelt for dear life, and behind him are Taehyung and Yoongi, the Slytherin scooting into the middle so Jungkook can pull the end seat down and squeeze into the back row.

He waves Y/n in, and she pulls a stunned Jimin into the back with them. When the end seat locks back into place, Hoseok is throwing himself into it, wrapping himself around Yoongi once the door is closed. His boyfriend smiles with contentment, and even half-asleep, Jimin can appreciate the quiet happiness they share.

Jin slams his concerningly large coffee cup, now empty, down into the middle console and lets out a roar of energy.

“Next stop, Quidditch World Cup!” Pressing down on the gas hard enough that Y/n actually feels the tires squeal against the pavement before starting to turn, Jin takes off, rounding the rest of the massive courtyard before flying back down the winding driveway. Her hand reaches for Jimin’s on instinct, and if she wasn’t squeezing so hard, he might have blushed.

“What’re the chances of us dying before we even get there?” Jimin chuckles at her question, cutting himself short when the car slides into traffic much too recklessly, so he just hums.

“Probably much higher than you want me to admit--”

“Hey, who has my road snacks? I’ve got such a hankering for one of those cinnamon roll thingies--” Jin reaches blindly back into the middle row, searching for the bag of food on Taehyung’s lap.

“Both hands on the wheel!” It seems the entire car’s in agreement, because Jin just returns to his previous position, a small whine leaving him.

“Alright, alright, you big babies. Namjoon -- feed me, buddy.” The Ravenclaw groans loudly, and for a moment Jimin can’t believe he’d missed all these idiots while he was away.

When Jin pulls into the campground for the World Cup, they’re all gasping as they take in the scene around them. The arena’s unbelievably massive, towering over them in the distance. The sea of people is endless, crowded beyond belief with spectators and traveling merchants preparing for tomorrow’s match. Following Yoongi’s directions until they manage to find the plot of land his parents had reserved for them, Jin pulls off into the treeline and puts the car in park.

The group stumbles from the vehicle, groaning and stretching, shaking off the anxiety of entrusting Jin with their lives for hours. It’s a little past 11am, enough time for them to set up before lunch. Y/n follows Jimin into the spacious area, admiring the excited chaos of the enormous campground around them. She can hear Jin mumbling a spell under his breath to shrink the car and put it in his pocket, followed almost immediately by Jungkook excitedly asking if he can 'do that with a house -- or Hogwarts!'

Jimin takes her hand, and for a second, she thinks that maybe he’s making a move on her, something that leaves her embarrassingly hopeful. But all he does is pull her close to him, pointing at Yoongi with his other hand. The Slytherin is pulling a tiny tent out of his own pocket and setting it on the ground in the middle of their plot of land. Y/n doesn’t even see Yoongi utter a spell before the tent is growing to full size, and she can only imagine that the inside has been bewitched to fit all 8 of them -- something else that Yoongi’s done without speaking.

“Nonverbal magic?” It slips out without her thinking, and Yoongi hears it, glancing at her and becoming visibly shy under her curious gaze. He nods, pointing back at Hoseok, whose attention is caught trying to convince Jungkook not to try shrinking himself with Jin’s spell.

“We both know it -- most Slytherins do, actually… should I call it a defense mechanism? We don’t like to let people know what we’re thinking.”

“It’s pretty fascinating, if you think about it.” It comes from Namjoon, where he and Tae are unpacking not too far away. “Even in class, Yoongi would always practice nonverbally -- he’d get in trouble for it, too.” The Slytherin shrugs as if performing nonverbal magic isn’t difficult for most people unless the caster is under incredible distress.

“What can I say? A habit’s a habit. I haven’t used verbal magic in years -- it’s just more comfortable this way.” He ducks into the tent then, poking his head out and waving them in once he’s checked the quality of his adjustments to their living space for the next couple days.

They all head inside, Y/n looking around in awe when she sees just how big it is. There’s a section of bunk beds on the far side of the room, and the rest is filled with endlessly cozy spaces -- couches and cushions, corners piled high with blankets and pillows. There’s a small kitchenette in the corner, which Jin makes a beeline for in order to 'preserve his perishables'. Jimin shakes his head at the scene, always amused by the depth of the Hufflepuff’s stomach.

Jungkook pulls Y/n to one of the couches, where they collapse on it in a sibling pile that Jimin’s gotten used to seeing over the last 24 hours. It doesn’t stop the rest of the group (sans Hoseok, of course) from gawking at the pair, everyone unused to seeing the dynamic that’s been essentially nonexistent at Hogwarts. They don’t even notice, Y/n looking up at Jungkook with emotional eyes.

“I can’t believe I have friends to share this with.” She doesn’t realize the group is listening, and they all feel simultaneously touched and saddened by her words. Jungkook only ruffles her hair fondly.

“Get used to it, kid -- things are looking up for us.” It’s then that Jungkook happens to glance up, catching Taehyung’s gaze and seeing glossy tears in the boy’s eyes. Looking around, he notes that everyone’s got a similar expression, and he wonders what they must think of Y/n -- of the girl they don’t know enough about to understand her sentiments. He also wonders why they seem so moved by her words.

The awkward moment’s cut short by Namjoon clearing his throat. He points toward Jin, who’s standing by the fridge.

“We have enough food in there to feed us for a week, but Jin said it’s all ‘snacks’, so it looks like we have to go buy lunch.” Everyone nods, accepting that Jin would probably bite them before letting them into the kitchenette, and they start heading back out into the campground.

By the time night’s fallen, they’re all exhausted and a bit giddy. It’s almost 10, the effects of waking up at 4am weighing down on the group as they sit together in front of their tent. Hoseok and Yoongi had set up a small fire for them to gather around, Jimin playing music quietly from the small speaker Tae had packed as they talk amongst themselves.

Namjoon leans against a decently sized pile of rocks, reading quietly with the light from the fire. Y/n suspects he’s not actually reading, having caught his smile every time someone had cracked a lame joke, but she doesn’t call him on it. He looks peaceful there, in his quiet corner. Yoongi and Hoseok sit together on one side of the fire, whispering to each other and smiling about things only they know. Jungkook, Tae, and Jin are huddled, having a small argument about some of the merchandise being sold by the traveling shops that are set up around the campground.

Y/n sits with Jimin, watching the group and jokingly judging Jimin’s music taste as he scrolls through his phone. They’re sitting awfully close together, and Jimin thinks in the back of his mind that they must look about as cozy as Yoongi and Hoseok do -- that thought brings him much more joy than it should.

Despite the endless chatter and liveliness of the campground, the night starts to wind down, the sky clouding over in a way that makes it seem darker than it already is. It’s a perfectly good time for everyone to head to bed, but the chaotic trio has apparently decided to escalate their quarrel, the three of them jumping up at the same time.

“We’re going to check out some stuff -- it’s important!” Jungkook calls out to the rest of the group right before disappearing into the crowd with Jin and Tae. Namjoon promptly shuts his book, standing with a groan and heading in the direction they’d just gone. He offers them a shrug as an explanation.

“Someone needs to keep an eye on them.” He’s gone soon, leaving Jimin and Y/n to make awkward eye contact with Hoseok and Yoongi. Y/n locks eyes with Hoseok, and Jimin gets the strange feeling, from the way Hoseok’s eyes widen and then narrow suspiciously, that they’re communicating telepathically. The Slytherin shakes his head subtly, and then again a little more forcefully, before sighing heavily and rising to his feet. Holding his hand out, he helps Yoongi -- who looks as confused as Jimin feels -- to his feet before pointing noncommittally in the same direction their friends had gone.

“Apparently, I’m hungry enough to go searching for a snack, even though we have snacks in the tent.” Yoongi smirks at the clear annoyance in Hoseok’s voice, tugging him toward the crowd.

“Come on -- let’s go find a tree to make out under.” Immediately, Hoseok’s gaze becomes one of mischievous excitement, and he practically skips after the shorter boy into the distance. Jimin makes a noise of disgust, mirrored by Y/n’s expression.

Jimin only properly registers that they’re alone when his phone automatically starts playing a slower song -- rather, he properly registers that Y/n had asked Hoseok to leave them alone. Turning to her suddenly as if for an explanation, he finds that she’s staring into the fire with the intensity of someone who’s very socially awkward. He can’t help the breath of laughter that leaves him, one that becomes real laughter when she glares at him.

“You look like you just realized the consequences of your actions.” Her jaw drops, and she pushes at his shoulder, affronted.

“Sue me for wanting to spend time alone with you!” Immediately, she’s hiding her face in her hands, groaning. She wonders if maybe -- if she wishes for it enough -- the ground will just open up around her and swallow her whole. Her ears feel like they’re being set on fire when she hears Jimin’s laughter ringing through the air, and she hates that she loves the sound anyway.

“When are you just going to admit that you’re in love with me, Y/n? I promise I won’t laugh.” She mumbles something into her hands, and it sounds suspiciously like ‘you’re already laughing’. Jimin tugs at her wrist, dragging her out from her hiding spot and forcing her to look at him.

“How about we make a deal?” Y/n sends him another glare, but it’s her pout that catches his attention and drives him to the brink of insanity. “We can say it together -- count to three and admit how crazy we are about each other at the same time.” Y/n rolls her eyes and snatches her wrist from his hold, turning back to the fire, which has basically died down completely by now.

“Stop messing around, you big dork.” Jimin holds his hand to his chest and gasps.

“I have never been so serious about something in my life as I am about this.” He keeps talking, a dramatic monologue about his integrity, but something triggers the alarm bells in the back of her head -- the same alarm bells that have kept her alive up to this point -- and she’s immediately distracted.

Glancing around, she finds that nothing’s changed in their surroundings -- families and groups of friends still celebrate the start of the World Cup, the chaos of thousands of people in one place never-ending. But there’s something in the air, something that sets her nerves on edge. Looking up, she realizes that it’s gotten exceptionally dark, the clouds concentrating into one dense curtain in the sky, removing any sign that the stars had been there in the first place.

“Jimin, wait… this doesn’t feel right.” Realizing, based on the pained expression that fills Jimin’s face when she interrupts his secretly heartfelt rant, that she’s said the wrong thing at the wrong time, Y/n shakes her head quickly, motioning out into the distance. “I’m talking about this -- something’s off.” She ignores Jimin’s lingering eyes on her when she stands from her spot on the ground, looking to the treeline and taking in their surroundings. He joins her when he gets a clear look at her face and sees how urgent her gaze is.

The breeze is gone, leaving her with the taste of stale smoke in her lungs, the air still foggy from the bonfire. It seems the sense of freedom had left with the boys, since all she can feel is an invisible weight coming down on her chest -- something coming for her.

And come it does, in Jimin’s frozen form and horrified gaze, staring straight over Y/n’s shoulder into the sky behind her. Whipping around, terrified about what she might find, she’s stepping backwards and colliding with Jimin’s chest before she can even register what she’s seeing. The clouds have darkened considerably and are moving of their own accord, twisting and turning as they take shape in the sky. Jimin begins to shake uncontrollably as the storm clouds become one, revealing the skull with the open jaw, a massive snake emerging from within and wrapping itself cleanly around the top.

“That’s-”

“Guys!”

“Jimin, Y/n-”

“We’re so fucked!” The rest of the group comes crashing into the space in panicked chaos, tearing through their campsite with thinly veiled terror. Taehyung and Namjoon make a beeline for their tent as the sounds of pained screams start to filter in, replacing the comfortable memories of the bonfire with something much darker. Yoongi stands near the fire pit, turning in circles and pulling at his hair desperately as he realizes where they are.

“This isn’t -- this tent, it’s in the middle of --” He stops, breathing hard, hands still buried in his hair as the thought finally hits. “My parents put us in the middle of Slytherin territory.”

Jin comes in behind everyone else, firing curses over his shoulder as he calls out to the group, scanning their faces and doing a mental headcount.

“We need to get out of here -- the muggleborns should go first.” He locks eyes with Namjoon as the older Ravenclaw exits the tent carrying a bag. Namjoon nods, grabbing hold of Taehyung’s wrist and moving toward Y/n, who hasn’t left Jimin’s side.

“I grabbed everything important, so let’s just go.” He reaches for Y/n’s arm, triggering Jimin’s protectiveness. Jimin pulls her closer on instinct, and Namjoon sighs as he releases Taehyung in order to grab both of them. “We need to go.” He addresses Y/n under his breath. “You’re not safe here, either.” They keep eye contact for just a moment, but it’s enough that Y/n is left with the feeling of ice in her blood even after Namjoon’s turned back to the group.

How much… does he know?

Before she can question Jimin about Namjoon’s suspicious behavior, Jimin’s tugging her toward his friends as they move toward the edge of the forest. Pulling back and forcing Jimin to a stop, Y/n points at Jungkook, who has now flanked Jin and is defending one part of their campsite from the oncoming hoard of Slytherins.

“I’m not leaving without him.” The conflicted look that crosses Jimin’s face tears at Y/n’s heart, but she stands her ground, motioning back toward Jungkook. “I have to stay-”

“What? No, you have to go!” The call comes from behind her, and it’s only a matter of moments before Jungkook is by her side, shoving her into Jimin’s arms. “Take her with you! Don’t you ever let her out of your sight-”

“Jungkook, watch out-”

Taehyung yells out to him, just a moment too late. Y/n watches in horror as a red light appears just over Jungkook’s shoulder. It grows bigger and bigger as it flies toward them, accompanied by the disgusted shriek of “Blood Traitor!”, and all she can do is hug Jungkook to her as she waits for the curse to strike him in between his shoulder blades.

Pulling him close, she barely manages to catch the flash of silver that appears, encompassing them as another body slides into view and blocks out everything else. The shield charm is cast wordlessly and so powerfully that it knocks the Slytherin who’d attacked them clean off his feet. Thrown back at least ten feet, he’s left bewildered and sore.

Hoseok stands between Jungkook and the army of Slytherins, breathing heavily as the shield dissipates around them. He holds his head high as he stares down the group, resigning himself to the fact that, after years of hiding his true self from his housemates, his loyalties have been clearly defined in that moment.

The silence that follows is only broken by the soft fwip of a wand being slipped out of a pocket, and it’s as Hoseok is whipping his head around that another red light appears, its caster completely silent. The curse burns through the air, almost as if in slow motion, cutting through the space right under Hoseok’s ear with the sharp precision of a skilled marksman and meeting its target on the other side, searing the ends of Hoseok’s hair as it goes. The Slytherin who’d been poised to attack from the treeline is hurled backwards, disappearing into the forest as everyone watches him go, Yoongi’s wand still trained on the spot where he’d stood.

The cold fury that fills Yoongi’s eyes is replaced with concern as he lowers his wand and rushes to Hoseok’s side, giving him a once over before turning to face the growing crowd of Death Eaters in-training, aligning his loyalties just the same as Hoseok had. Y/n allows herself the small smile that arises when she sees the gaze that Hoseok casts upon Yoongi, filled with the kind of love she could only hope to have in her own life. The moment doesn’t last long.

The group of friends, realizing almost simultaneously that they’re being surrounded, forms a huddle facing outward, wands steady as they prepare for the attack.

“If we make it out of this shit alive, I’m going to throw the biggest fit of my life when I get home.” The mention of the Dark Lord’s most loyal Min family sets off the first wave of curses, their traitorous son the target.

One by one, the group takes down their attackers, tiring out but never giving up. Minimal injuries are sustained on their end, their will to survive too strong to forgive even the slightest mistake. Jimin keeps one hand on Y/n at all times, unwilling to lose track of her for even a moment, as if she’s not been stuck to his side all night.

Curses rain down on them from all sides, the Dark Mark in the sky peeking through the shower of red lights as they fight for their lives. Jimin feels Y/n stagger beside him, but she seems to be unharmed when he looks her over. Glancing in alarm at the moon, barely visible amongst all the smoke and mayhem, Jimin curses under his breath as he remembers the date -- and more importantly, that she hadn’t yet taken her dose for the night. He pours all his energy into his attacks from that moment on, everything suddenly becoming much more urgent.

Time passes so slowly that none of them are quite sure how long they’ve been there, fighting in a war they’d never asked for. Just when Y/n thinks they might be losing -- that they might be forced to pledge allegiance to the Dark Lord, or even killed where they stand -- there’s a loud pop and a gush of wind passes over all of them.

From within their circle comes the angered cry of Sirius Black, who manages to deflect a rather mean curse headed straight for Jin’s chest. He’s followed by James and Remus, the three of them throwing themselves into the mix so carelessly that it catches the Slytherins by surprise. James takes advantage of the delay, surging out of the circle toward the largest density of Slytherins and pointing his wand at the ground closest to them.

“Confringo!” The earth beneath their feet shudders under James’ command, collapsing in on itself before exploding outward, sending no less than 10 people flying through the air and creating a chaos too intense for the rest to handle. The world around them becomes fuzzy and confusing, and Y/n feels nothing except the hands that pull at her and urge her forward into the forest.

They all manage to stumble far enough away from the mess to gather their bearings, but the shouts of their enemies are not far off. As soon as they confirm that they’re all alive and relatively unscathed, Remus takes Y/n by the elbow and pulls her gently to him. Jimin is reluctant to let her go.

“I need to talk to you -- we have to go somewhere safe.” Sirius is collecting the rest of the group and giving them the location of a safe place to meet, a small cottage in the countryside where he and Remus had been living.

“You guys head there first, we’ll meet you.” He hands the keys to Jungkook, who nods in understanding as he sees that Remus has no intention to rejoin the group. Jimin starts to reach for Y/n, unhappy with their separation, but Hoseok speaks up from the back. He’s being half-carried by Yoongi, his leg having suffered a bit of damage from James’ blasting curse, but not so much that he couldn’t walk. Y/n bites back a smirk, suspecting that Hoseok had just been looking for an excuse to need Yoongi, who is absolute garbage at hiding how pleased he is.

“Make sure you come back soon. I trust you guys, and I know you need to talk in private, but I don’t like not having Y/n close in times like this.” Remus nods, acknowledging Jungkook as well, before leading Y/n away. The boys start to apparate away, James helping Hoseok and Yoongi get to the house safely before returning to join his friends. Remus has led Y/n a safe enough distance away that the Slytherins would have a hard time finding them and is explaining the gravity of the situation to her.

“-- to infiltrate a pack of werewolves living in the mountains. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, Y/n.” Y/n examines Remus’ face, noting the new scars and the exhaustion that lies heavy in his eyes. He looks nothing like the bright school boy from just a few months ago, and she knows he’s seen unimaginable things in the short time that he’s been working under Dumbledore. They all look drained and, frankly, terrified. The lives they’d been promised from a young age were fading away into this dreary nothingness, this thankless job where nothing is more uncertain than the future.

“You’ll be careful, won’t you? Just tell me you’ll be careful -- all of you.” Remus looks taken aback by her words, and Sirius can’t suppress the soft chuckle that escapes him, amazed at this girl standing before him, not nearly as reserved as they’d all thought her to be.

“Of course we’ll be careful, love. Don’t you trust us?” Y/n shakes her head, smiling despite her scoff.

“Trust you guys? I didn’t realize you were an aspiring comedian, Sirius.” They laugh openly now, thankful for even just this moment of reprieve from the hell they live in. Remus leans over, patting her adoringly on her head, as if they weren’t damn near the same age.

“Good, that’s good. Don’t trust anyone, Y/n, you hear me? Don’t trust anyone you wouldn’t die for. Can you do that for me?” Y/n nods, the picture of those boys in that cottage in the countryside coming to mind so easily.

“I know who my people are. There’s no one else besides them -- and you guys. So try your best not to get yourselves killed?” James salutes her once as Sirius nods. Remus moves to agree, but the sound of leaves crunching not too far away triggers an immediate response in him. Lunging forward and taking her into his arms, he throws Y/n over his shoulder and takes off running, knowing better than anyone else what it would mean if she were caught. Y/n watches with horror as two Death Eaters appear out of what looks like thin air, sending James and Sirius into action. She can do nothing but watch as they deflect curses while maintaining their ground.

Remus sets her down a long distance away, trying to warn her again, but her attention is on the action they’d just managed to escape. She tries to push past him to go help James and Sirius, but he grabs her by the shoulders quickly and forces her to look at him, shaking her roughly in the process.

“Listen to me, Y/n- listen to me!” She meets his eyes, alarmed by the frustration in his voice. “The public knows. They know now just to what extent the werewolf population is siding with Voldemort. Everything before this summer was just speculation -- of course the evil magical beasts should side with the Dark Lord, right? Well, the Minister of Magic just released a statement this morning. Everyone knows now. And it won’t matter how much we cry and beg and plead for our lives -- if they catch us, we’re dead. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Y/n can do no more than stare into Remus’ eyes, wishing this all away -- wishing that they could just be back in school, a bunch of kids with no worries about the war. But the longer she stares into his eyes, the longer she realizes that they don’t just have to worry about the war now. They’re part of it. Two werewolves with way too many people keeping their secret. James, Sirius, Peter, Jungkook, Hoseok, and now Jimin? And --

Does Namjoon know, too? Just who the hell else has to be put into danger because of what I am?

Y/n steps through the front gate of the cottage, having been dropped off by Remus -- she’s not of age yet to apparate alone -- before he disappeared again, presumably to help his friends escape. She’s barely within ten feet of the front door when it’s flying open, Jimin appearing before her with wild eyes. He rushes at her, taking her into his arms with a desperation he didn’t even know he felt. She pats at his back, unsure of what to say, still dazed from everything Remus had told her.

“I was only gone a few minutes…” Jimin pulls back, looking at her as if she’s insane.

“I don’t care. Those were the worst few minutes of my life. I hated not knowing if you were okay.” He looks her over, patting at her arms gently. “You are okay, right?” When she nods he sighs before glancing around them urgently as if realizing they’re out in the open. He tugs her inside, shutting the door tightly behind them. He’s about to motion her down the hallway into the living room, where the rest of their friends are regrouping, but she stops him. The look she gives him is suspicious, and he’s unsure why.

“Jimin, you told me you would never breathe a word of what I am to anyone…” He looks at her with alarm, shaking his head.

“I didn’t tell anyone anything -- why? What happened?” She examines him for a moment, seeing that Jimin’s as confused as she is. She proceeds with caution, realizing that if Jimin really hadn’t said anything, then this conversation is about to be very uncomfortable.

“I think… Namjoon might know something…” Jimin feels like he can’t breathe then, the air stopping short in his chest as his heart drops out from under him. He swears without thinking, the word slipping out as he processes what she’s saying.

“Fuck… shit… fuck…” Y/n squints at him, unsure of where his mind’s just gone. Jimin squeezes his eyes shut, another swear falling from his lips as guilt overcomes him. He opens his mouth to explain, but he can’t bring himself to look her in the eyes.

“Before I figured out… everything, I would talk to Joon about things that confused me… about you.” He opens his eyes just enough to glance at her before looking away, but he’s surprised that she isn’t fuming with anger. She’s only thinking carefully about his words.

“So, he probably put it together on his own.” She comes to the conclusion as she ponders, offering the reason for Namjoon’s comment to her earlier. Jimin lurches forward, taking her hand in both of his, eyes pleading.

“I swear to you, Y/n, I didn’t say a word of this to him after I figured it out. I completely dropped it, and when he asked me why, I just told him I was respecting your privacy by minding my own business -- I promise, I never said anything--”

“Jimin!” His name cuts through the air, and his mouth snaps shut immediately to give her room to talk. “I’m not mad at you. I’m more worried than anything… I wonder who else knows…”

“Uhm, actually--” The new voice has them both turning to look to the end of the hallway, where Tae’s standing awkwardly in the doorway to the living room. He’s flanked by Jin and Yoongi, Namjoon standing with Jungkook and Hoseok just inside the room.

“--I think we all know…” The blood drains from both Y/n and Jimin’s faces as Jungkook and Hoseok look to each other in alarm. Jin nods, Yoongi smiling awkwardly to confirm what Tae’s saying. The air in the house is cold, no one willing to break the tense silence while Y/n processes what she’s just heard. She meets Jungkook’s eyes then, his gaze betraying the immense fear that he’s feeling, much like the ice running through her veins.

None of them even notice the front door opening behind Jimin, the three Marauders stumbling into the house, disheveled but generally unscathed. They stop short at the scene before them, glancing amongst themselves before James is breaking the silence himself.

“Are we… interrupting something��?”

“Okay, someone start talking before I go insane.” They’re all crowded into the living room meant only for a few people, Y/n and Remus sitting together on a couch in the middle of the room, everyone else taking up the extra seats and floor space. It looks like a club meeting gone horribly wrong, if the discomfort in everyone’s eyes is anything to go by. Y/n looks around after demanding an explanation, finally looking to Namjoon, as he’s the only one she’d been aware of until a few minutes ago. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

“After Jimin suddenly stopped all the obsessive theorizing and curiosities, I got suspicious… I had a feeling he’d put everything together, and I was worried that he was getting himself into some kind of trouble because that’s just the kind of nosy Ravenclaw he is. I just put it together myself so I could help him if I needed to…” Jimin grimaces at Namjoon’s words, knowing them to be true but disliking the description all the same.

The glare of irritation Jungkook’s been shooting him doesn’t help, but Hoseok pulls the Gryffindor’s attention away with a bump of his knee against Jungkook’s thigh. When Jungkook drags his burning gaze away from Jimin to look at Hoseok, Jimin’s shocked to see that Hoseok’s simply shaking his head at the Jeon heir, silently telling him to back off. Jimin’s eyes widen then, never having experienced such a sense of stunned relief as he feels in this moment with Hoseok’s quiet support.

Jungkook turns his annoyed gaze over to the spot where Taehyung, Jin, and Yoongi sit. He locks eyes with his roommate of six years.

“Tae?” The boy in question looks down at his hands sheepishly, glancing at Y/n in a way that seems almost apologetic. When he lifts his head, he speaks directly to her, feeling that his explanation should be for her and her alone.

“Jimin’s my best friend… it would be weird if I wasn’t worried about him with him acting so strange. I didn’t really figure it out until the beginning of the summer, when I started spending more time with you -- I noticed how sick you’d get around the same time each month, and you’d always look so tired afterwards. I know we don’t know each other as well as Jimin knows you, but I was worried about you, so I… did my own digging and put the pieces together. It also explained a lot about all the times Jungkook would run out of our room in a panic in the middle of the night. There were just… a lot of things that made sense once I’d started to think about it.” Y/n keeps her eyes on him, trying to process the guilt in his eyes and wondering why he sounds so upset. “I know that you’re probably terrified of us knowing, but I promise I was just worried about you. I’m sorry I was snooping in your life…”

Y/n sees then that Taehyung feels the same kind of responsibility that Jimin had always carried in his eyes -- one of fear that his actions would bring her harm. He’d been sitting with that for the whole summer, quietly trying his best to keep her safe by pretending he knew nothing at all. She opens her mouth to tell him that he has nothing to feel bad about, but Jin’s clearing his throat.

“I, uh-- we--” He gestures to the space between himself and Yoongi, whose gaze is one of cautious observation as the conversation goes on around him. “We… were on our way back to Yoongi’s room and overheard you and Hoseok talking -- something about Jimin finding out… Hoseok was really upset, and he was kind of yelling. We didn’t mean to eavesdrop -- it’s just that we were right outside, and you were trying to calm him down, and he was just saying a lot of stuff that was confusing and weird, but it was obvious what was going on.” Jin glances over at Yoongi as if to confirm his story, and the Slytherin only nods. He turns back to Y/n, finishing his explanation. “We found out together--”

“Actually--” Everyone’s attention turns to Yoongi, who shifts uncomfortably under the weight of their gazes. He clears his throat, scratching at his neck while he finds his words. “Actually… I already knew by then. I think, based on what everyone’s been saying, that I probably knew before any of them…” He trails off, leaving the group to devolve into strained chaos.

“Wait, you knew?”

“How long have you known?!”

“When did you find out?” Ignoring the barrage of questions, Yoongi only looks to Hoseok, whose eyes tell how shocked he is. Flicking his gaze to Y/n, Yoongi continues.

“Do you remember when we first met? That night in the Hospital Wing -- it was before winter break.” Y/n’s jaw drops as her memories fly all the way back to December -- almost a year prior. “I went to visit you, originally because Hobi had mentioned something about going to visit a friend and I was looking for an excuse to see him.” Hoseok laughs under his breath, still stunned into disbelief about the situation, but Yoongi hasn’t stopped talking, almost rambling now.

“I had just found out that you guys were even friends -- it was really weird for me to think about, you know? Until then, he’d only ever been friends with Slytherins, and even then he seemed hesitant about getting close to them. I mean, I get it, that’s how I was, too. But to find out that my roommate since first year had a secret friend group with people that made no sense for him to know -- I was curious about you. I wanted to see what you were like. Especially because Jimin was, like, obsessed with you -- sorry, Jimin.” The Ravenclaw grimaces again, hating that he’s been described only as obsessive but knowing that that’s exactly what he’d been like.

“So… what does that have to do with finding out about me? How did you know?” Y/n leans forward, elbows on her knees as she looks intently at Yoongi. He sighs in response.

“Look. My entire life, I’ve been trying to separate myself from my name. My parents are objectively fucking insane, and I want nothing to do with them, especially now that they pulled that bullshit with the World Cup reservation. I can’t be like them, okay? I would rather die fighting on the right side of this war than ever pledge my allegiance to that nose-less freak. But that doesn’t change the fact that I still live at the Min Estate. And the Min Estate -- it’s like a beacon for the wicked and evil. I’ve seen every kind of creature walk through the doors of my house whenever my parents hold their Death Eater meetings. It’s like a monthly book club, but for murder. So I know what werewolves are like. I know the signs and the symptoms, and I know how cruel and vicious they can be.”

Y/n breaks her gaze then, staring down at her feet as he confirms every fear that she’s ever felt -- that she would be seen as a monster, an evil beast with only the instinct to kill. All the same, it hurts to hear him say it out loud.

“And that’s why I knew you were nothing like them.” Y/n’s head whips up, and she sees that Yoongi’s focused on conveying to her with his eyes that he means what he’s said. He doesn’t see the affection that fills Hoseok’s gaze, replacing the icy fear he’d been feeling the entire time Yoongi’s been talking.

“You’re nothing like them, Y/n. You’re kind and considerate, and you’re so shy around new people that even I’m in pain just watching you struggle to talk. You’re really fucking weird, and your sense of humor has been shaped by growing up with a crazy ass Gryffindor brother and this sarcastic asshole--” He points then to his boyfriend, finally feeling confident enough to look Hoseok in the eye as he cracks the joke before returning his attention to Y/n.

“So, yes, you’re a werewolf. But you’ve got nothing to worry about with me. Or any of us, to be honest.” The rest of the group nods then, and Y/n feels the air returning to her lungs after so long of holding her breath. It’s only when she looks to Remus, who still seems unsure, that she remembers how complicated their situation is.

“I appreciate that, I really do. You guys have no idea how scared I was that you’d find out… but it’s not as simple as you think -- not that any of this has been simple to begin with. It’s just… more complicated--”

“So, are we talking about Remus, or something else?” Taehyung speaks up, looking genuinely confused about what she’s alluding to. James and Sirius tense where they sit on either side of Remus, whose gaze has just become very guarded.

“I’m not sure what you mean--”

“The ‘you being a werewolf’ thing? Yeah, that wasn’t hard to figure out once I knew what to look for in Y/n.” It’s Jin who cuts him off, Yoongi and Namjoon nodding along. Jungkook throws his hands in the air, flopping back against the couch with an exasperated sigh.

“Just how bad are we at keeping things a secret around here?!” Remus groans in response, but James and Sirius seem to be taking the news in stride.

“Look on the bright side, Moony -- now we have an army of hooligans to keep you guys safe!” Remus rolls his eyes in irritation before looking to Y/n for help. She stares down at her hands, feeling more exhausted than she’s ever felt in her life -- and she experiences monthly painful transformations that leave her bedridden for days after.

“This isn’t a joke, James.” The Potter boy snaps his mouth shut when, for the first time since meeting her, Y/n’s voice carries an edge when she addresses him. “The number of people that are in danger now because of what we are has just doubled. And now there are muggleborns involved -- what’s going to happen if anyone gets wind that they know something about us? With what the Ministry’s just released… it’s too much. This is all too much.” Namjoon hums then, pulling Y/n out of the dangerously dark mental dive she was just about to take.

“I mean, we’re involved in this war whether we know about you guys or not. We’re already fighting for our lives -- what difference does it make if we know what you are? If anything, it gives us a reason to fight harder.” He gestures among all of them, all eleven of them in that room.

“We’re all we have left in this war -- why wouldn’t we do everything it takes to keep each other safe?”

#bts au #bts smau #bts social media au #bts hogwarts au #jimin x reader #park jimin

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behindyourbarrette · 3 years

Text

like you a latte - matcha latte

← previous | series masterlist | join my taglist | next part ->

pairing: spencer reid x fem reader

a/n: SURPRISE i felt like dropping this a DAY early!!lololololol but here it is! i appreciate the love on the last two parts so so soooo much :) can’t beliEVE WE ARE HALFWAY DONE!! reblog if u enjoyed

—

Needless to say, Twilight Time isn’t very crowded on Thursday afternoons.

You rarely pick up closing shifts anymore—for reasons totally unrelated to the doctor who almost exclusively arrives in the morning—but you’re covering for Sally, and it’s a nice day out. The rain has let up in favor of mild weather, the sun just barely peeking through the clouds as people drift past the shop. Despite the fact that there’s more foot traffic on the street, not many people come in to order. You don’t blame them. Why have hot coffee on a day like this?

Your back is turned when you hear a group enter, and your heart soars at the prospect of tips. For whatever reason, most people are more inclined to tip when they know their friends are watching. You call out to let them know you’ll be right with them, and after you’re done fidgeting with the settings of the coffee grinder, you turn.

It’s Spencer. But he’s not alone.

There are a total of four people before you, each intimidating you in slightly different ways. They’re all agents, as evidenced by their not-so-concealed carries. You recognize a few of the characters. Spencer’s told you about JJ, who you assume to be the friendly blonde, and Penelope, who is a vision in fuchsia. That leaves Emily, who’s whispering to JJ, eyes fixed on you. You try to absorb the sight, them together. Spencer looks at ease, a wide smile on his face as he looks between you and the group.

“Hey, Spencer. These your coworkers?” You crack a nervous smile, knitting your fingers together. He nods, introducing them each in turn. JJ grins in your direction, and Penelope waves at you with a fingerlessly-gloved hand. Emily reaches across the bar to shake your hand. You get the sense that there’s something Spencer hasn’t told you.

“What can I get you guys?”

Spencer shrugs, defaulting to JJ and Emily. Penelope pipes up, eyes bright as she peers at the menu above you.

“Do you have matcha, sweetheart? I’ve been meaning to try that. It’s great for your skin.” You nod, pulling a cup out and inscribing Penelope’s name on it. JJ and Emily both order americanos, exchanging a sheepish grin. After setting their cups aside, you turn to Spencer.

“Genius, you should really try the matcha. It’ll give you brain power. Not that you need any more.” Penelope does jazz hands to emphasize her excitement, and Spencer shrugs. You watch them interact for a moment before you realize he’s turned to you for your approval.

“Oh. I really like matcha. It’s green tea, and a matcha latte tastes light and sweet. I think you’d like it.” He nods, and orders it hot. Penelope orders iced; you smile as you consider that they compliment each other, eventually turning away to prepare everyone’s drinks. They’re all relatively simple, and you manage to include latte art in the hot drinks. Spencer’s is last, and you flick your wrist to finish the design. Crossing the bar, you hand each agent their drink in turn.

Penelope sips at her drink first, the bright green matching one of her rings perfectly. Spencer eyes his dubiously, poking at it with a wooden stirring stick.

“It’s very green.” He whispers to Penelope, who cackles in response.

JJ catches your eye as you watch, lingering between the bar and their seats. With a smile, she waves you over.

“You’ve totally ruined other coffee for Spence. We had to come try it for ourselves.” She whispers, leaning down. You aren’t sure how to feel about her tone; there’s a glint of something in her eye, something playfully secretive. You’re not sure what part of this you’re not in on.The idea of Spencer mentioning you at all is foreign—sure, you’ve told your roommates, and your coworkers found out that you do, in fact, have a favorite regular. Still, you never considered the idea that you bleed into other parts of his life. You steal a glance at him while JJ compliments her americano. He’s sipping at his matcha, a green mustache left behind.

“You have a magic touch, Y/N. I don’t think I’ve ever had coffee this good in the states.” Emily flashes you a grin as if she can sense your nervousness. You relax a little, asking her about her work abroad instead of getting lost in your head. She strikes you as a diplomat, and a compliment from her feels like something to be savored. Penelope raves to you about the health benefits of matcha, and you immediately feel welcomed by her. If you were to run a study comparing the approachability between pink polka dots and pantsuits, you're sure that polka dots would win.

“Are you an agent, too?” You ask, stirring your own iced coffee with a straw. Eyeing the clock, you’ve decided that this counts as your break. Tyler be damned. Penelope giggles, shaking her head.

“Oh God no. Well, technically. I’m a technical analyst, so I work on the computer and tech end of things.” She explains, and you nod. It makes a lot of sense. While both JJ and Emily exude the energy of most cops—authoritative, with a critical eye—Garcia does’t fit that mold. It’s this that draws you to her.

You learn that JJ has a son named Henry, a surprisingly Southern boyfriend to match, and that Emily has a cat named Sergio. Despite their highbrow titles, you don’t feel out of place. It’s easy to sip at your coffee, the cup cool against your fingertips, and listen.

“Are you in school? Spence mentioned that you majored in literature.” JJ sets her cup down, flexing her fingers against the air. You feel yourself flush now that the attention is on you. The fact that he chose this detail to divulge sticks between your ribs. You haven't told him much about your work—he insisted on reading your thesis, and even reread the source material to better discuss it with you—but apparently, what you have discussed has made an impression.

“Yeah, actually. I’m in my second year of law school.” You admit. Emily nods in approval, reaching out to high five you.

“Damn. With all the assholes you deal with in customer service, you’ll make a great attorney.” You high five her with a small smile on your face, stealing a glance at Spencer. He seems elated, clearly enjoying the dynamic he’s observing.

“Do you want to go into criminal law?”

JJ asks, eyes wide with curiosity. You shake your head ruefully. They take it well, shrugging their shoulders. To their credit, their branch of law enforcement deals with the process prior to prosecution. You shudder at the idea of what happens after they catch the bad guys.

“No, not really. I’m looking at either the entertainment or environmental sector.”

The group murmurs, and the conversation devolves into small talk about law. You look to Spencer for an escape, and he suggests that they take a walk. Once the girls have trickled out of the room, each hugging you goodbye, you’re left alone with Spencer.

“Hey.”

You laugh at the simplicity of his greeting, turning to toss your empty coffee cup into the trash. Spencer flushes a deep shade of red, raking his hands through his hair.

“Your friends aren’t how I expected. Really cool, though. Especially for like, Quantico professionals.” You wipe the counter down, and the reality that you’re on the clock hits you, a little dizzily. Did his coworkers really just want to meet Spencer’s barista? The realization tastes a little bitter, and you bite back any further questioning in favor of looking up at him.

“Yeah. They’re like family.” He looks out the window, hands deep in his pockets. His whole demeanor is stiff, and you resist the urge to reach out and force his shoulders down from his ears.

“Did you like the matcha? I wasn’t sure you would. I used the oat milk you like.” Slowly, he relaxes. With a small smile, he nods.

“It was good. I like most teas, I’m finding. It wasn’t too sweet.” You add matcha to the mental list you keep, of drinks he likes. It’s become your mission to expand it. In the months since he started branching out, you’ve managed to add a few drinks to his core rotation.

“You know you’re one of my friends too, right?”

This catches you off guard. You pause in the motion of sweeping the floor, carefully raising your eyes to meet his. While nervous, he sounds sincere. When met with your silence, he continues.

“I just wanted you to know.”

You nod carefully. The implications of this are something you’ll consider later, when you’re alone. He’s only confirming something you’ve already known, but something about it stings. The word crosses your mind briefly, but it sticks. It’s bittersweet.

“I know.” Your voice is low, soft against the din of the coffee shop. Spencer doesn’t look satisfied, opening his mouth to say something then closing it again. He glances between you and the window.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

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forever-rogue · 4 years

Text

Afterglow - Part 5

A/N: Thank you guys for the support on the last part, and your mutual hatred of Ch*d. He really is the worst...As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know. xx 💕

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Reader

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: None

AFTERGLOW MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

We’ll always be together.

Everything will work out like it was supposed to.

We’re going to go away to California and we’ll start our new lives there.

Nothing will ever tear us apart.

We’ll get away from this town and they’ll never see us again.

I love you.

“Hello? Hello…” you were barely aware of the hand waving in front of your face as you stared out of the large window, watching the late night traffic of the city. You shook your head as you snapped back into reality and found Chad staring at you with an annoyed expression on his face. You set your fork down and pushed your plate away, having lost your appetite some time ago and growing tired of going through the motions of eating. Chad sighed heavily, grabbing the fine linen napkin off of his lap and tossing onto the table, “what’s going on with you lately, sugar plum?”

“Nothing,” you cringed at the nickname but tried to keep your face a true mask of neutrality as you pushed the memories of your youth with Frankie to the back of your mind. You don’t remember exactly when you’d zoned out during the conversation, but a teenage Frankie, one that had promised you the world as you laid in the back of his old beat up pickup and stargazed had occupied all of your thoughts. You sat back in your chair and sighed, dismissively crossing your arms over your chest, “it’s just been a long day and I’m tired…”

“You seem to be having a lot of days like that lately,” he shrugged with a sour expression as he reached for his glass of wine and drained the rest of the dark red liquid in one go. You didn’t want to fight, not again, as you seemed to be doing every day lately, but you also weren’t about to let yourself get walked all over.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you scoffed at him, flagging down a waiter and silently asking for the check.

“You’ve been spacey, you’re always claiming to be tired, forgetting appointments, and you don’t seem to want to do anything with wedding planning,” he huffed at you. You were willing to coincide that much - he was right on the money. You’d been preoccupied with thoughts of your youth, your past that you’d thought you’d buried well enough, but had let them back in. They had become all consuming...and frankly, planning a wedding you were constantly arguing about wasn’t something that seemed particularly appealing, “what’s going on with you? Are you...are you pregnant?”

You almost spit out the water you had been drinking, your mind quickly running a million miles an hour at the question. You weren’t….surely you weren’t. No, luckily you’d had your period about three weeks prior and it’d been even longer than that since you’d last sex. It wasn’t exactly a thrilling time lately. Just before you could open your mouth to say anything else and reassure him that you most definitely were not pregnant, he blathered on, “you can’t get pregnant before the wedding...you know how bad that would make us look? It’s only two more months, after that we can try and get it out of the way. But not before.”

You snorted, grabbing the little bit of wine you had left over and downed it, to prove your point that you weren’t pregnant. Get it out of the way, you could have laughed at the statement if it hadn’t been so shocking. You never thought you’d have had a child with a man who thought it was just something to get out of the way. Maybe you’d get lucky and never have a child with him...it would spare both of you.

“I’m not pregnant,” you hissed at him, “and don’t worry, at the rate we’re having sex, I’ll never get pregnant anyways.”

“You can’t,” he lowered his voice and looked around to make sure no one had heard him, “you can’t just go around saying things like that!”

“What?” you asked as the waiter came over with the check. You took it and thanked him with a smile as sweet as honey, not even bothering to check the tab as you tossed one of your cards into the sleeve and set it back down. Chad normally always insisted that he pay, stuck in his old school thought process that men should be taking care of their wives and girlfriends, not the other way around, “I shouldn’t be saying the truth?”

“I’m not going to fight about this,” he insisted sharply, his eyes filled with nothing but malice, but his outward expression suggesting he was happy and content, “look, we have a lot to do before the wedding, and after tomorrow I’m going to be gone for three weeks-”

“For work,” you finished forward, trying to read his face to see if you could detect even the slightest flicker that he hadn’t been honest with you. He was a lot of things you weren’t a fan of, but you didn’t think he would ever cheat on you. If nothing else, the fear of getting caught and having his personal life and image blow up in his face was even to deter him.

Sometimes though, as you laid next to him at night, unable to sleep, you wondered if he truly loved you, or he just liked the pretty picture you presented, and the name that you carried. You loved him, truly you had, at one point anyway, but now you were questioning if you still did. Rather, you loved him, and you never would wish him ill, he wasn’t a bad man in that sense, but were you in love with him? That was the question that you had been struggling with. You often wondered if you were just going through the motions to go through them, to mold yourself into the image that everyone had of you. Were you truly happy? You weren’t even sure anymore.

“Yes, for work,” he agreed, keeping his face calm. You often considered yourself a fair judge of character and you didn’t detect anything that suggested he was lying, “and there are a lot of things that need to be done and finalized while I’m gone for the wedding. How can I trust you to do that when you can’t even remember dinner with our families?”

“I’ve got everything in my calendar, with alarms and reminders,” you promised, “it’ll all be taken care of.”

“Including your dress fitting,” he reminded you, “that’s the most important thing. We can’t have you going down the aisle in an ill fitting dress.”

“It will all be done and taken care of,” you promised quietly, “there’s nothing to worry about. Whatever’s going on with me, I’ll pull myself out of it.”

“Good,” he responded, offering you the first smile you had seen that evening, “I just want everything to be perfect on our day.”

“Of course,” you signed the receipt that was dropped off, making sure to leave a generous tip, before sliding your card back in your purse. Chad stood up and waited for you, and the smallest bit of joy that had been sparked always started to disappear already. Autopilot was on and you were once again going through the motions.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“When’s the big day? You are going to make the most stunning bride,” the young girl that was assisting your dressmaker was looking at you with the softest, most awed expression you had ever seen. You couldn’t help but smile at her, remembering that when you were young you had always dreamed of a day like this. You turned back and studied your reflection in the large, golden and gilded mirror, admiring the dress. It was a beautiful gown, made just for you, of course, as no one would ever let you forget if you wore a predesigned stock dress.

“About two months,” you said softly, watching as Imelda, the woman who had dreamed up the dress from scratch after first meeting you, came back with a veil. The veil itself was just as gorgeous as the dress, also created by hand, stitch by grueling stitch. You stepped down from the small pedestal and let her place it on the crown of your head as you blended magnificently with the dress.

“A fall wedding,” she sighed dreamily, “if I ever meet the one and get married, that’s what I’d want too. I think it’s the perfect time of the year, and so romantic.”

“It’s...it’s something,” you found yourself at a loss for words as you turned back to your reflection, finding the look complete with the headpiece. Every single inch was stunning, highlighting all your favorite parts of yourself. It was a dress borne of love, and made you look more like a princess than a woman who wasn’t even sure anymore if she wanted to get married. Every day that had passed since Chad had left for his work trip about two weeks ago had been agonizing as you tried to figure out what you really wanted. Did you really want to get married to him?

“I bet it will be so magical,” the young girl sighed wistfully. It took you back for a moment how much she reminded you of yourself, “how did your fiancé propose? Your ring is gorgeous too. I bet you’re both so beautiful together!”

"He's a very handsome man," you admitted, knowing that most women would fall to their knees for a chance at a man like Chad. He wasn't the type that you had been drawn to when you were younger, but he was still easy on the eyes. He had that soft, typical all American boy sort of look to him, tall, lithe with the blonde hair and blue eyes that women often found so dreamy. It just wasn't...what you had envisioned when you were younger, "and smart, he's an attorney, and just...yeah. A good man."

For the right person he might even have been perfect. You wondered how things would be different if you were the perfect match for him.

"You'll have gorgeous babies," the girl brought forth a tray of jewelry for you to examine and pick through to find the perfect match for your dress. Imelda softly tutted at the girl, suggesting a pair of brilliant diamond earrings for you to try.

"Maybe," you decided to dodge that bullet and grabbed the studs, popping them into your ears to see how they went with the dress and veil.

"But the proposal - what was it like? I bet it was so dreamy..."

"It was simple," you admitted. It was simple compared to others you had witnessed, but still more over the top than you had needed or had desired. He'd waited until you were at an outing that you swore consisted of everyone you had ever known. There was no doubt in your mind that he had done it to make himself look good and show off the huge ring that now sat on your hand. It was almost too big for your taste and you'd often thought about trying to get something more subtle. But you hadn't wanted to argue over it, so you just accepted it, "it was at a dinner with our family and friends. A little lowkey, but he did it over champagne and dessert."

"That's perfect," she sighed wistfully, "I hope that if I ever get engaged, my future girlfriend does something like that, or I can do if for her."

"I hope you too," you promised her with a fond smile, "you deserve the world too and the engagement and wedding you dream of."

"Hopefully I'll look as pretty as you," she smooth parts of your dress down as she looked you over, "hopefully Auntie Imelly will make me a dress just as pretty."

"You already know I've got everything planned for you," Imelda promised her niece, "you just have to wait until you find the perfect girl and the time is right. I want nothing but the best for you, and I won't see settling for just anyone."

"Never," the girl nodded at her aunt.

"But now," she turned back to you and held out a stunning tennis bracelet, "what about you? Do you like everything or should we make any more changes to the veil or dress?"

You took a long while to study the woman staring back at you in the mirror. She was beautiful, that much was easy to see, dressed in the most stunning wedding gown and jewelry. Everything about her was breathing taking, but there wasn't even a trace of a smile on her face, no light or life in her eyes.

"No," you whispered softly, running your fingers gently over the delicate lace of your the veil. You knew it must have taken Imelda hours and hours of hard work and care to make perfect it, "everything is stunning. This is...it's beautiful, every last stitch. Its an honor to be wearing this dress right now."

"Perfect," she beamed at you, "then we'll get it all put and stored safely until your big day. I'll of course bring it to that morning and make sure its perfect for you."

"But I can't...I can't take it," you said and the room grew so quiet you could hear a pin drop, "I can't accept this beautiful dress, this veil, any of it."

"What do you mean? I created this just for you..."

"I know," you said as you stated to peel off the jewelry and placed it show back in the soft, velvet case, "and I will pay you double what you originally quoted for it. I want you to keep it and give it to someone you deem worthy. Someone that desires to wear something so beautiful, someone that is marrying the love of their lives. I'll even pay for any future alterations, but I can't...I can't do this."

"What do you mean?" Imelda's face wen through a range of various emotions as she hastily helped you to pull off the veil.

"I can't get married," you stated, finally saying out loud the words that had been plaguing you for some time now. You couldn't do it. You weren't going to subject yourself to a marriage you didn't want with a man who wasn't the love of your life, "I'm not going through with this. I can't...no. I'll never be happy with if I do."

The young girl brought your clothes back for you as you started to strip off the dress, not caring in the slightest about any propriety anymore.

"Listen, sweet girl," you told her as she pulled the dress off of you, almost buckling under the sheer weight of it until you helped her, "never ever settle for anyone. Wait until the right person comes along...maybe it'll take ages, but you'll be happier. Don't make the mistake I almost did."

You pulled on your jeans and t-shirt, casual clothes that Chad would likely have abhorred, and turned back to Imelda, "I am so, so sorry to do this to you. All the hard work and time..."

"I'm just glad you kept yourself from making a huge mistake," she whispered as she pulled you into a hug, "that's the important thing of all. The dress will find the right home, and one day your heart will as well."

"Thank you," you said softly, feeling the wave of emotions that you'd been suppressing for so long wash over you. For a therapist, one who told her patients to express themselves however they needed to, you'd grown too comfortable with settling and being content, but not truly happy. Something was bound to break at some point and this just happened to be the straw they broke the camel's back.

"Thank you," you brushed away a few tears, finding more comfort in her touch and kind words than you had in anyone else in a long time, "truly, thank you. And please, send me the bill. Whatever you want, I'll pay it."

"Of course," she gently wiped your tears away, her niece giving you a small wave as you turned to leave the shop.

As soon as you stepped foot into the busy street, reality came crashing down on you like a ton of bricks. This was going to change everything, emotions would be all over the place, and dealing with two controlling families would be an ordeal within itself. But regardless, you felt lighter and happier than you had in a long, long time. Nothing else mattered right now. The only thing you were focused on was the little bit of light that had crawled back into your heart. It wasn't an easy decision to make, but you knew it was the best one - the right one. It had been a long, long time since you'd been able to say that about anything...

»»————-　♡　————-««

As soon as you stepped foot into your apartment, you threw off your coat, snatched your phone out of your purse and tossed it onto the floor. Quickly searching for Chad's contact, you paused for just a moment to let out a long breath before dialing his number.

You stormed into the bedroom and ducked into the closet, pulling out a suitcase while you listening and anticipated him picking up any moment. Your heart was beating like mad, threatening to burst out of your ribcage as you hastily tossed whatever clothes you into the large suitcase. It was a haphazard disaster, but you didn't care.

"Hello?" He finally answered after several long rings, sounding somewhere between surprised and annoyed, "what's wrong sugar plum?"

"I'm leaving," you blurted out before you could think about how to word anything or form a coherent sentence.

"What? Leaving where? What are you talking about?" he hissed under his breath, as you heard him walk to the door, shut it and work it, "what's going on?"

"I'm leaving you," you finished throwing the clothes that were easily accessible and jammed into the bathroom to grab your things from there, "I can't do this. I'm not marrying you, Chad. We're over."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he must have heard you frantically scurrying around, as his voice had a shake to it, "what on earth are you talking about? You're not thinking clearly!"

"No," you said firmly, "I'm thinking clearly for the first time in a long time. This has been something that I've been thinking about for a long time. Chad, you and I...we're not meant to be."

"You were supposed to finalize your wedding dress today," he hissed under his breath, clearly not realizing what you had said. Or if he had, he has pointedly chosen to ignore everything you were saying. Typical. And one of the prime reasons you were ready to be done with him and move on. You could couldn't imagine a lifetime of this - you'd never be happy again. You held the phone away from your ear for a moment and let out a long groan, "have you been drinking?"

"What?!" a look of annoyed disgust your features as you rolled your eyes at him, "no, of course I haven't. This is exactly what I mean, Chad. You just get so like...this and I'm tired of dealing with it. Are you even happy?"

"It doesn't matter if I'm happy," he huffed. Of course it didn't...that’s exactly why your relationship had been doomed for a long time. Status, money, image was everything to him. That had never been your wants and goals life - that was how you'd always been different from your family. You just wanted to be happy, nothing else mattered. That's why you had dreamed of moving to California and starting a life there with Frankie, "that's not what this is about."

"Of course it is," you insisted softly, "that's what...that's what matters in life, Chad. Life isn't about money and status and what others think of you. Its about being happy, love, being kind..."

"What are you on about? What kind of delusions have been put into your head?" his words were cruel and you couldn't deny the fact that they stung. This was everything you had rebelled against when you were younger, everything you never wanted to he. But here you were...someone you couldn't even stand, "your parents wouldn't stand to hear you talk like this."

"Yeah," you agreed quietly, "that's exactly why I need to do this. I never wanted to be like them...I don't want to be anything like this. I don't care about it. I just want to be with someone I love and to be happy."

"You're setting yourself up for failure-"

"Maybe so," you agreed quietly, "but that's a risk I'm willing to take. It's better to try than just to accept a life without happiness."

"Look," he sighed, deep, weary sound, and you could just picture him sitting there in frustration, "we can talk about all of this when I get back. Its a few more days...maybe you'll be thinking more clearly by then. Just make sure get your dress and have everything figured out. We can't afford to get behind."

"No," it was a firm, resolute statement. Part of you was shocked that he wasn't understanding or getting into his thick skull that you were being serious. Then again, part of you was not surprised.

"No?"

"You don't get it, Chad," you cradled your phone between your ear and shoulder before pulling off your over the top engagement ring and slamming it on the dresser, "when you come back, I won't be here. I'm not kidding, this isn't some sort of game. I'm done - we are done. I'm leaving and I'm not coming back."

"You can't just leave!" a little bit of panic had crept into his voice as he slowly came to the realization that you were serious - dead serious, "what are you going to do? Where will you go?"

"I can just leave and I will," you insisted, "this has been over for some time, Chad. We both know it. I'm taking my things and leaving everything else. The ring is on the dresser. The apartment is yours anyway, keep it. Keep it all. I don't want a thing. I’ll figure the rest out on my own.”

“If you walk out that door and if you’re not there when I get back, this is over forever,” it almost sounded like he was trying to give you an ultimatum, but it just caused you to laugh lightly. Everything about this situation was life changing - you were breaking away from your life’s charted trajectory, but it felt like the right thing to do. The girl you were when you were growing up would have when horrified to see what you had become. But she was slowly clawing her way out and coming back to life, just how she should have been, how she should have always been.

“That’s the plan, Chad,” you sighed softly. You weren’t sure if he was ever going to get, or if he would only understand when he realized that you weren’t there. Maybe he had to experience the full reality of everything before he accepted it. You sat down on the edge of the bed, realizing that this was the last time you’d ever be here, “look, I’m sorry for not doing this sooner or expressing how I felt. I-I’ve tried but you always shut me down. I know this changes everything for both of us, but it’s the right thing to do. You’re not a bad man, Chad, but you’re just not the one for me. I don’t wish you anything but happiness, truly, but it’s just not with me.”

“People will talk, no one will ever have you back-”

“Yeah, and I’m okay with that,” you admitted, “those people? They never cared about me, none of them care about anything but themselves. I’m okay without them in my life. The people that matter will stay and they won’t care.”

“Sugar plum-”

“Don’t,” you cringed at the nickname, “don’t call me that, I hate it. I’ve always told you I hate it...and yet you never listened. I should have known, I should have tried harder to let you know. We should have talked more - you should have listened and I should have tried harder. This mess could have been avoided a long time ago.”

“You’re a therapist and couldn’t figure this out,” he scoffed and you could tell he was trying to go for a low blow. He was mad so he was going to try and fight dirty, “must not be a very good one then. What do they even pay you for?”

“I didn’t think you’d resort to saying something like that,” you stood back up and finished stuffing things into your suitcase, making up your mind to try and leave as quickly as possible, “but you know, I am good at my job and I try and help people. Just because I don’t always take my own advice, doesn’t mean it’s wrong. See, that’s why we would have never worked out - you’re so quick to anger and we’re never once had a rational discussion when you get like this. I mean, this wedding, everything that’s when going on has been for you and what you think people want. I’m not...I can’t do this anymore. This isn’t who I am, it never used to be. I need to be the person I truly am again.”

“You are making a huge mistake,” his declaration was enough to make you laugh as he desperately tried to do anything to make you feel small and to stay. If you believed that you needed him maybe you would stay. The sad thing was that he wasn’t even so concerned about you, or the fact that he loved you, it was all about how this would look to other people. Pathetic.

“No,” you disagreed, “and even if I was, I guess I’ll learn my lesson the hard way. I’m okay with that. Listen...I’ll take care of cancelling everything for the wedding and telling my parents. You can tell everyone else, blame me, make yourself look good. I’ll have all the money refunded to you, I don’t care about it, I just don’t.”

“You’re really doing this, huh?” he laughed; it was a bitter, stunted sound. You finished throwing your clothes and few items from the bathroom into the suitcase and were in the process of zipping it shut. You already felt so much freer, so much lighter.

“I am,” you acknowledged, grabbing your things and heading for the door, “this is goodbye, Chad. If it means anything at all, I am sorry for how this came about, but I’m not sorry for doing it. This is the right thing to do….even if it doesn’t feel like it now. In the future you’ll realize it too.”

A few beats of silence passed between the two of you, and just when you thought he was going to say something, the sound cut out and the call ended. You groaned lightly as pulled the phone away from your ear, tapping the corner of it against your head a few times. After all this time, this was how things were going to end? You knew he’d be mad, but you didn’t think it would be like this…

Figuring that while you were already in the middle of dealing with everything and that lovely response you had might as well call your parents and get that over with at the same time. How much else could go wrong? If you were going to be disowned, than you might as well find out now. Scrolling through your contacts, you quickly found your parent’s house number, dialing and quietly wishing that neither of them would answer. Maybe they would be too busy running around -

“Hello?” your mother sounded cheerful as ever, and while you didn’t always see eye to eye with her on everything, you still cared deeply about her. You considered hanging up, but decided against it, figuring it was time to get this done and over with.

“Hi Mom,” you said softly as she grew excited to hear from you. She startled rattling on, not even letting you get a word in edgewise as she went on and on about your wedding, “Mom, stop.”

“What do you mean?” she asked suddenly, taken aback by your little sharp comment, “this is your wedding we’re talking about it, honey, it’s going to be here before you know it.”

“That’s the thing...that’s why I’m calling-”

“You got your dress finalized today, right? I can’t wait to see it, I know you wanted it to be a surprise for everyone, but I wished I could have been there…” you could tell she was getting emotional, but it caused a light pang in your heart. It was never going to change your mind, of course, but still gave you a moment of pause, “tell me, honey, do you love the dress?”

“There’s no...no dress,” your voice was soft as a gasp came from the other end, “because there’s not going to be a wedding.”

“W-what?” she asked, fumbling on some words as she tried to wrap her head around what you were saying. No wedding? Surely you must have been pulling her leg. Your wedding was the talk of the town, everyone knew about it…”what do you mean there’s not going to be a wedding? Of course there...it’s in two months…”

“No,” you repeated again, “there’s not. It’s not happening. I told Chad, I’m leaving, I can’t go through with this. I don’t love him, Mom, not like that. I cannot marry a man that I do not love.”

“You already told him? You’re going to call this whole thing off?” she was getting hysterical and you immediately regretted telling her. Well...she was going to find out one way or another...at least this way she was getting it directly from you, “just like that? What’s going on with you?”

“Yes, just like that...but honestly, it’s been a long time coming,” you dragged your suitcases to the door and took one last look around the place, giving it one last look over, “it’s...I wasn’t happy, not for a long time. And it’s my fault for not dealing with it sooner, but I couldn’t go through with this. I’m not going to subject myself and him for a life of unhappiness.”

“But what about-”

“None of that matters,” you promised, “I don’t care what anyone thinks. I just want to be happy and if I ever marry anyone, I want to be in love. Maybe that will never happen, but that’s better than a lifetime of going through the motions.”

“But Chad is...he’s perfect…” rolling your eyes, you tossed your eyes onto the counter and took off the apartment keys, laying them on the table for Chad, “the two of you…”

“Look great together? Would have 2.5 wonderful looking children? A dog with a big house and white picket fence?” you finished for her, “I know that’s what everyone says and thinks. But it’s so much more than that. Chad is not a bad man, and I know that, he’s good and he’ll be great for the right person, that person just isn’t me. I don’t care about anything else...I want to be happy, and right now, I know it will hurt him, but eventually he’ll be happy too.”

“Are you sure about this?” she sounded resigned already, knowing that it wasn’t worth it to argue with you. You always had a stubborn streak when you were young, and that had never changed.

“I am, Mom. I just...I want to be happy, truly happy, and if I had gone through with everything, it would never have happened,” you explained, “isn’t that important too? Does my happiness mean so little to everyone?”

“Your happiness is important, sweetheart,” she said softly. You could tell this was crushing her spirits and that no less than a million things were running through her mind, she always was the analytical type, stemming from her many years as an attorney. But at least she was trying; trying to understand your thoughts and respect them, even if it was hard for her, “are you positive that this is what you want?”

“I am,” you felt sure and confident in yourself as you headed for the door, propping it open and dragging your suitcases into the hallway, “this is the thing I’ve been more sure about lately than anything else.”

“Well,” she cleared her throat, “then that’s what matters. You do deserve happiness, my love. What are you going to do now?”

“I hadn’t really thought that far ahead,” you admitted, “I’ll figure that out as I go...which I guess is now.”

“Your father and I are here if you need us,” she promised, surprising in a way because you were sure that you would be subjected to her wrath, “we do love you, you know, despite how it may seem sometimes.”

“I know, “ you closed the door slowly, listening to it shut with a soft click, bringing about a bit of finality to the life you were leaving behind, “I appreciate that. Right now, I just need to figure a few things out.”

“Call us if you need anything,” she insisted, and you took a deep breath before nodding.

“I will,” you promised softly, ending the call and tossing your phone into your pocket. At least that was done. Now you just had to figure everything else out.

Everything else suddenly seemed unbelievably daunting. You’d gone through periods before where everything you had known fell completely apart. You’d gotten through it then and you would again.

You had been broken and forced to pick up each tiny piece of yourself before. You’d do again and again and again if you had to. At least this gave you a chance at happiness.

This was just the first page of a new chapter. You can do this, you kept repeating to yourself as you started to walk away, you can do this.

On the outskirts of town, in the small, quaint house he called home, Frankie startled awake, out of his midafternoon nap. He looked around to see what the cause for the sudden wake up was, but could find nothing. He sighed as he sat up and rubbed his tired eyes, his heart panging with an odd, pulling sensation.

He wasn’t quite sure what it was...but it was something.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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