#she’s been calling us soulmates since we were twelve | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

onceuponaloonatic · 9 months

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Please please please post it

here you go 😌 (major major spoilers so if you want to wait to read the whole fic later i highly suggest waiting until i start posting on ao3 soon)

Sana had always believed in soulmates.

She knew there was no proof of such a concept existing, no concrete evidence that the universe brought people together in any way, but that was just who she was. Some people called her overly optimistic or romantic, others said she was delusional. But Sana believed that everyone had a fated match, either platonically or romantically, and that in time, the universe would bring that person to you.

She had once thought of Momo as her soulmate.

Hirai Momo and Minatozaki Sana’s story started when they were nine years old. Sana had just moved to Seoul from Osaka, and she was terrified. Everything about the move had been overwhelming, the packing, the language barrier, the new place. Sana remembered studying her school introductions for hours, just trying to get the words out in a way that didn't scream foreigner. She was terrified of messing up and forgetting all the studying her parents had forced upon her. On her very first day of class, she stumbled through her introduction. She remembered wanting to cry when the words came out just slightly off. She remembered bursting out into tears when the teacher made a passing comment about how long her last name is and how difficult it will be for her to write in Korean. She's escorted to the nurses office, where she sobbed until lunch.

Momo was in a different class than her. She had come to the nurse with a busted up knee from a fall during recess where she found Sana sobbing in the bed. The nurse had already called Sana’s mother to come get her, and Sana was just waiting to be wrapped in a huge hug. Sana would never forget how Momo looked at her the first time she saw her.

“Why are you crying?” Momo asked, looking over Sana. Sana’s brain was struggling to process the Korean, and all she could do was respond with a quiet “I’m okay” in Japanese. She remembered how Momo’s eyes lit up in recognition of the language.

“Your Japanese!” Momo screamed in Japanese.

“You are too?” Sana sniffled.

“Yeah! I just moved here last year!” Momo winced as the nurse applied antiseptic to her bloody knees. “We should be friends.”

“Huh?”

“Well we're both Japanese right? We should be friends.” It wasn't the best logic, but nine year old Sana was just ecstatic to meet someone who understood her.

At twelve, Sana decides her and Momo are soulmates. They had been inseparable since they had met, and everyone around them just commented on how adorable they were. They had been given the nickname Samo by Sana’s father, a term they would continue to use for years. And even at a young age, Sana knew Momo understood her in a way no one else did. She knew Momo was a piece of her heart, and she knew it was vice versa.

Things weren't perfect, even at this young age. Momo always got defensive when talking about her family, and she would always insist that sleepovers happened at Sana’s house, not her own. She would always say things like “your parents seem to really like each other” or “it's nice your parents love you so much.” Sana was of course concerned, but she didn't know what to do.

They kiss for the first time in Sana’s bed, under the artificial star lights Sana’s dad had meticulously placed to be the same as they had been in Japan. Sana had joked about never having kissed anyone, and Momo had then decided the best person for Sana’s first kiss was her. Sana had thought it was silly, but also found herself looking forward to it. The entire thing dropped with childhood innocence, and they had both fallen into a laughing fit when they pulled away.

They meet Nayeon in high school, and she immediately falls into their little group. Nayeon is funny, charismatic, and most importantly seems to be the only person that can keep up with her and Momo. She latches onto them, and their duo becomes a trio.

Saan thinks Nayeon might be one of her platonic soulmates.

Their second kiss was much more intense. Sana was sixteen, and much more aware of the nature of kissing. Momo had kissed Sana like she needed her, like Sana was the thing she most desired. Sana remembered feeling fireworks going off in her mind as she hugged Momo closer, deepening the kiss. She can see Nayeon looking at her amused from the corner of her eye, and she knew if she pointed it out to Momo the spell would be broken so she closed her eyes and deepened the kiss. The next time they open, Nayeon is gone and the only thing on Sana’s mind was Momo.

In true Samo fashion, they both burst out confessions at the same time, leading to more giggles and even more kissing. It had all been a little cliche, the childhood friends to lover troupe, but Sana found herself believing it to be the universe telling her this person was her soulmate.

Nayeon warned her about falling too far too fast. But Sana didn't listen (she never does when it comes to Momo).

By college, the two are practically married. They aren't officially married, of course, but they moved in together during their second year of college. They had now been dating for four years, and Sana had thought they were unbreakable.

Nayeon lives down the hall from them, and was over practically every night she wasn't at a party. Sana had gotten used to Nayeon’s presence, going as far as to tease her that she was Sana and Momo’s teenage daughter. Nayeon would stick her tongue out and then ask for an allowance. (Sana appreciated Nayeon’s presence whenever Momo was gone, Sana hated being alone).

Momo always had late classes. It was part of her major, and she was always wiped when she came home. Sana was in the habit of pulling Momo into her lap when she got home and raining kisses while Momo whined that she needed to take a shower (they both know she's not serious). But one day, Momo comes home with someone else in tow.

“Oi Sana, close the window while you’re over there, it's freezing.” Nayeon complained, wrapping the blanket further around her shoulders as she watched her favorite kdrama.

“So demanding. Didn't I raise you better?” Sana giggled, closing the window as she moved to sit next to Nayeon on the couch.

“Shut up.” Nayeon groaned, taking a bite of her orange. “When’s Momo coming home?”

“She should be home anytime now.” Sana glanced at her phone, smiling at the picture of her and Momo occupying her lock screen.

“You are so whipped.” Nayeon rolled her eyes, playfully throwing a piece of popcorn at Sana’s head.

“Hey!” Sana giggled. “Not all of us are painfully single, you know.”

“I’m not painfully single. I'm fun single.” Nayeon giggled.

“Uh-huh.” Sana rolled her eyes. The annoyance quickly melted off her face when she heard the door unlock, immediately popping up to greet Momo. She runs over to her girlfriend, immediately wrapping her up in a hug as Momo struggles to get her shoes off.

“Sana-ya let me take my shoes off.” Momo faked annoyance as Sana smiled at her.

“No. Hug first.”

“Such a needy girlfriend.” Momo giggled, leaning down to give Sana a kiss. “Hi baby.”

“Hi.” Sana could feel a goofy grin stretch across her face at the greeting. She was surprised when someone cleared their throat, and that was when she noticed someone next to Momo.

“Oh right, sorry.” Momo giggled. “Jihyo, this is my girlfriend Sana. Sana, this is Jihyo. We have Bio together.” Sana peeked over at the woman next to her girlfriend, putting a friendly smile on her face as she greeted her.

“I can see what Momo was saying about you was true.” Jihyo giggled.

“What were you saying about me?” Sana playfully glared at her girlfriend.

“That you are wonderful, perfect, beautiful and-” Momo cut herself off as she lifted Sana by her waist, throwing her over her shoulder. “A cuddle monster.” Sana continued to giggle as Momo swung her around. Once Momo set her down, Sana quickly schooled her features and went into host mode.

“Are you here to study with Momo?” Sana addressed Jihyo.

“Yeah, if that's okay.” The shorter woman grinned.

“I suppose I can lend her out for a few hours.” Sana smiled.

“Sana-ya is that Momo? Did she bring take out?” Sana giggled when she heard Nayeon, moving away from the small entryway to make space for Jihyo and Momo to move around.

“Hey Nayeon Unnie. Are you being a freeloader again?” Momo teased.

“I pay you guys back!” Nayeon protested. “I bought you dinner last week so you owe-” Nayeon paused in the middle of talking, and Sana followed her gaze to see she just noticed Jihyo. A blush quickly spread on Nayeon’s face.

“I’m Jihyo, are you Nayeon? Momo told me about you too.” Jihyo seemed amused with Nayeon’s antics.

“Yeah….” Nayeon trailed off. “It's nice to meet you.” Sana giggled at Nayeon’s blush, and noticed the amusement in Jihyo's eyes as she watched Nayeon.

“It's nice to meet you too.”

Sana had watched Nayeon and Jihyo fall in love.

Nayeon had always been this huge personality, the center of attention whenever she walked into a room. She knew the girl relished in attention just as much as Sana, but also knew Nayeon needed someone who could tame her more wild streaks. She had watched as Nayeon had gone through multiple short relationships only for them to end in Nayeon sobbing in her living room at one in the morning.

Jihyo was the perfect person for someone like Nayeon. Their personalities were a perfect fit, and Sana could tell that Nayeon was genuinely happy with Jihyo. Nayeon called her delusional when Sana teased her about having a double wedding. Sana loves seeing her best friend happy, and she starts to think that maybe her platonic soulmate had found her soulmate.

“Sana-ya.” Nayeon whined as Sana rubbed at her eyelid. “Stop.”

“I’m just fixing your eye shadow.” Sana giggled, grabbing the eye shadow palette next to her.

“I can do it.” Nayeon rolled her eyes. “You should focus on yourself, it’s your wedding.” Nayeon giggled, grabbing the makeup brush from Sana.

“Sorry.” Sana giggled. “Pre-wedding jitters.”

“I know. I’m used to your craziness.” Nayeon grinned, watching in the mirror as Sana moved back to her seat. “Nervous?”

“Not really? Just excited.” Sana laughed, looking at herself in the mirror. She smiled at the fancy updo in her hair. “And terrified of my mother in law.”

“You know, I think that’s a normal fear.” Nayeon smiled, putting the makeup brush down and reaching over to brush Sana’s bangs out of her face. “Stop fidgeting, you look beautiful.”

“Well isn’t this hot,” Sana giggled when she heard Jihyo’s joking voice. Nayeon’s face broke out into the biggest smile.

“Hi Hyo,” Sana laughed as Jihyo came over to Nayeon. Nayeon instinctively reached for Jihyo’s hand, and she saw the way Nayeon’s eyes drifted to her ring finger. Sana knew the feeling of wanting to see how an engagement ring glittered in the light.

“Hello,” Jihyo smiled. “Ready?”

“Of course,” Sana smiled. “How’s Momo?”

“Do you really want to know?” Jihyo laughed.

“I would like to know if my future wife is freaking out.” Sana giggled.

“Well of course she is, it’s a big day.” Jihyo unlaced her hand with Nayeon and slung her arm over her shoulder. “She’ll be fine.”

“I’m going to call her,” Sana nodded, immediately going for her phone. She watches as Jihyo whispers something to Nayeon, the two of them giggling as they watch Sana. She knew they were teasing her, but she also loved seeing people she loved so happy.

Nayeon had always admired Sana and Momo’s relationship. From the day she met them, she knew they were going to be together one day. She could see all the glances and the smiles, and she knew they were meant for each other.

Nayeon doesn’t believe in soulmates, but she knows that Sana and Momo are meant for each other.

Nayeon had pushed the two of them together. She didn’t like to brag about her skills, but she had been the one to convince Momo to kiss Sana. She had watched the two of them dance around each other for months, and had decided to take it upon herself to set the two of them up. They fell in love right before Nayeon’s eyes.

Nayeon can’t help but feel jealous of the two of them. She knew she shouldn’t, but it was hard to not be jealous of a relationship as perfect as Sana and Momo’s.

Everything changes when she meets Park Jihyo.

Sana had teased her relentlessly after Nayeon’s awkward display in Sana’s apartment hallway. Nayeon remembered blushing as Sana whispered to her that she had a crush while Momo and Jihyo were studying in the other room.

Sana is the one to set them up. She had invited Nayeon to dinner, and then bailed on her ten minutes after the agreed upon time. She was annoyed until Park Jihyo ran into the restaurant, messy hair and a panicked look. She immediately noticed Nayeon, a grin on her face as she approached her. Apparently, Momo had ditched her too.

Neither say that’s their first date, but when they celebrate their first anniversary, they use that day.

Jihyo was easy to love. She was the first person Nayeon had met that was as competitive as her. The first person that even tried to keep up with her. The first person to ever make Nayeon feel like the most beautiful girl in the world. Jihyo always went the extra mile to make sure Nayeon knew she was special, and Nayeon felt herself fall much faster than she thought possible.

It had always seemed like they were a couple steps behind Sana and Momo. They had gotten moved in together a couple years after they had, they got engaged a couple months after them, and married within the same year.

Nayeon had never believed in soulmates, but at one point in her life, she had thought Jihyo was the perfect person for her.

Hyemi only brings them closer together, at least at first. Nayeon had always known she wanted to be a mother one day. She loved kids, and Nayeon knew Jihyo was going to be an amazing mother some day. Nayeon’s mother had always been dead set on being a grandmother, and the minute Nayeon and Jihyo had settled down she had begun hounding them about it. Jihyo is in her residency when they decide to have Hyemi.

“You can leave me alone Jihyo, I'll be fine.” Nayeon groaned, resting her back against the wall behind her.

“What kind of wife would that make me?” Jihyo giggled, bringing a warm towel over and laying it on the back of Nayeon’s neck. She sits down next to Nayeon, wrapping her arms around her.

“What about work?”

“Took a day off.” Jihyo smiled, moving Nayeon’s face to the crook of her neck. She rubs a hand on Nayeon’s back as she lays a kiss on her hair.

“Jihyo… You didn’t have to do that.” Nayeon muttered.

“Nu-uh. This parenting thing is something we agreed to do together.” Jihyo muttered. “Your pain is my pain.”

“Cheesy.” Nayeon muttered.

“Shut it.” Jihyo giggled. “Do you feel well enough to move to the bed?”

“Don’t want to throw up on the sheets.” Nayeon mumbled.

“Okay.” Jihyo moved one hand to Nayeon’s stomach.

“Your baby says hi.” Nayeon muttered.

“My baby?” Jihyo laughed.

“Only yours.” Nayeon groaned, feeling bile start to creep up her throat again. She gently pulled away from Jihyo, moving so she wouldn’t throw up on her. Nayeon half expects Jihyo to be at least a little disgusted, but all her wife does is move her hand and gently rub Nayeon’s back.

Sana remembered the day Hyemi was born very well. Her and Momo had been at the hospital the minute Jihyo had called them, and Sana had watched as Jihyo paced up and down the hallway. (Apparently, Nayeon had kicked her out temporarily because she was worrying too much. Sana thinks this is super in character for the two of them.)

Hyemi was born in the middle of the night, and she remembers Jihyo shaking her and Momo awake from where they had camped out in the hospital waiting room. Jihyo had the goofiest grin on her face, and Sana remembered thinking how happy she looked. Nayeon had some difficulties in her labor, so the first time Jihyo pulls them into their room, Nayeon is completely passed out. Hyemi is next to her, wrapped in a white and purple blanket. Jihyo looked so happy as Sana and Momo met their niece for the first time, Sana had no idea what was going to happen next.

Nayeon had changed after Hyemi was born. Sana had noticed it almost immediately, and she knew Momo and Jihyo had picked up on it as well. Nayeon had seemed more withdrawn after Hyemi was born, much more quiet than she had been before. At first, Sana had chalked it up to the meds. Nayeon had been through a traumatic birth experience, and Jihyo and Momo had both said Nayeon would need some time to recover.

Nayeon still smiles whenever Sana visits, she still gives Sana hugs and she still seems absolutely enamored with Hyemi, but Sana could just feel that something was wrong.

She had no idea how bad it would get.

Nayeon had always thought Sana was a total sweetheart. She was the type of girl that loved with her whole heart. She wore her heart on her sleeve, and she put her all into the people she loved. Nayeon loved being Sana’s friend, her best friend other than Momo, but she also felt extremely anxious over Sana. She was constantly terrified of the many ways Sana could get hurt, of the ways people could hurt Sana.

She never imagined the person who hurt Sana the most would be Momo.

She had watched as Sana, the girl who was famously banned from the kitchen, would go out of her way to “make” Momo the prettiest lunches (everyone knew the food was store bought, but no one ever says anything, it's a secret they had all silently agreed to keep). She watched the genuine smiles Sana would give Momo, the amount of attention and love Sana would shower upon her wife every moment of the day. She would watch as Sana would know, just instinctively, that Momo needed some space and to pull herself back. She watched as Sana never complained about Momo's need for space, and would always have the biggest grin whenever she was reunited with her wife. She watched as Sana gave Momo her everything. And she watched Momo slowly throw it all away.

Nico had been an extremely welcome addition to Sana and Momo’s family. Nayeon had seen them attempt to get pregnant for months, and how genuinely excited Sana was when they finally made the announcement. Nico was doted on by both of her mothers the day she was born, and everyone can just see how happy Sana and Momo are. (Nayeon ignores the little voice in the back of her head when she sees her best friend's family). Nico was loved by everyone in her life, and Nayeon thinks that's why it was so difficult for Sana and Momo when they got the diagnosis.

No one had expected Nico to be sick. It seemingly came out of nowhere, and Nayeon could see how much it wrecked her friends. They were both emotional, and Nayeon could never imagine the pain they were put through those first few years of Nico’s life. But, she starts to notice things after a while.

Nico’s treatment had become a seemingly touchy subject between Sana and Momo. Nayeon was extremely surprised by this, she had never seen Sana and Momo seriously fight and suddenly that seemed like all they could do. It starts small (it always does) but suddenly there's sides being taken and lines being drawn and Nayeon finds herself blindsided by the whole thing. She knows that everyone processes grief differently, and that different people need different things, but it quickly becomes apparent to Nayeon that Momo processes her grief with anger. (Nayeon does the same thing, so she's not surprised she noticed it so fast). Momo was not usually a super outspoken person, Nayeon had never seen her instigate anything beyond playful arguments before, and suddenly it felt like all she could do was argue with Sana. And Nayeon saw how much it wrecked Sana.

She was the opposite of them. She didn't process her grief with anger, she processed her emotions with sadness and compassion. Sana liked to be hugged, to cry out her problems while someone whispered to her everything was going to be okay. (Nayeon thinks maybe Sana is healthier than her, at least in that regard, but her therapist always told her to be less critical of herself).

Momo’s anger only gets worse the worse Nico’s condition gets, and Nayeon can see she's trying to hold herself back for Sana and Nico’s sake. She watched Momo take deep breath after deep breath, count to ten forwards and backwards in Korean and Japanese, and she watched as Momo loses herself in the fight against her own emotions.

Momo doesn't snap or hurt Sana physically or anything like that. But she does start to isolate herself. She starts working more and more and the petty arguments continue until they both reach a boiling point. Sana retreats into a deep depression, and Momo retreats into her job.

Nayeon had tried to desperately put Sana and Momo both back together, but it feels like she's grasping at straws. It all becomes too much when Jihyo decides they should pick sides. Nayeon knows it's her wife’s attempt to keep Sana and Momo non hostile. If Nayeon could focus on Sana, and Jihyo could focus on Momo, they might be able to put their friends back together again.

And then six months later, Nayeon catches Jihyo and Momo making out in Jihyo’s office.

#twice #minatozaki sana #im nayeon #hirai momo #park jihyo #should i tag nahyo and samo?#like the make appearances #i'll just tag them they have their moments #nahyo #samo

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reinathevocaloid · 2 years

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Fics That Have Changed My Life

(AKA all my absolute fav fics across all my fandoms)

Akeshu

L’appel du vide by Xov

Akechi Goro is alive – one of his biggest regrets is alive and standing in front of him looking like he’s ready for some highbrow sports photo shoot when what he really needs is five years intensive therapy and at least five more steps away from Akira. No, no, no – the universe is not allowed to shove this on him so soon after it just flung him three fucking years into the past.

and i felt the fever coming. [oh the wreckage follows] by shenyanigan

Kurusu Akira has survived a lot over the past eighteen years of existence. A false assault charge. A police-sanctioned scopolamine overdose. Bringing a butter knife and twelve penis demons to a fight with god. Learning that yellow was definitely not a color that suited him, no matter what Ann and Yusuke tried to tell him (and no matter how much that gutted him, because damn, those dungarees were cute). He is, in Futaba’s words, “if the ‘I lived, bitch’ meme were a person.” So it comes as a bit of a shock that the last straw is a cold, of all things.

And even more on my separate list of fav Akeshu/Shuake fics!!!

Joshneku

Fate and Other Impossibilities by Lelek

Neku's never wanted to be special. He just wants to be. After three years in Shinjuku, that may no longer be possible.

Unreal Cities by Lelek

Three years is a long time to be dead, trapped in an endless loop of a city's final days and trying to understand what happened to it. No one told Neku that going back to his own life would be the hard part.

1000 Wishes Between Me and You by astersatdawn

He thinks if his life were to be viewed by an outsider they would liken him to a post-apocalyptic movie protagonist: quiet, wandering a ghost town, entering homes and stores and taking the things of use and leaving the carnage behind, and maybe they wouldn’t be wrong; the only difference Neku can think of is he still can’t bring himself to consider Shinjuku completely gone.

long spring rains by lostsunsets

“It must have— really sucked, right?” Shiki says cautiously, delicately, as if she’s wary that Neku may shatter at any given moment. “Being trapped like that, alone.” Neku returns her gaze with a sheepish kind of smile. He isn’t supposed to talk about his time in Shinjuku, his three year time lapse, all of it— but he figures that Joshua owes him just a little.

now i’ve found some clarity by jesstiel (jseca)

Neku's been waiting for Josh to reappear for two years now, since he won the Game and helped save Shibuya. Despite returning to the RG, a part of him is still tied to the UG, a tenuous connection that he can’t quite bring himself to cut. When Josh finally does deign to make an reappearance, Neku realises that sooner or later he's going to have to choose: the RG, or the UG? Set in a world where Another Day didn't happen, exactly, but still contains major NEO TWEWY plot spoilers

Miyusawa

Situation Normal by Sapphylicious

Miyuki turns into a catboy overnight and some changes are easier to deal with than others.

The path we walk by WindsOfTime

Eijun goggles at the magazine she just shoved into his hands. "W-Wakana!" "I know!" she says, beaming. "That's my soulmate!!" "I know!!" "My soulmate plays baseball!!"

Phantasm by sunbaemint

When humans assassinate their own kinds, they call it a massacre. When humans slaughter otherworldly beings, they name it an exorcism. Sawamura Eijun, however, stands in between.

Flower Marks by bakamura-eijunn (fairietailed)

“You’re a puzzle. A beautiful mosaic of flowers and sunshine and you." -- In which everyone on Earth is born with a flower on their skin, and Sawamura Eijun wears his heart on his sleeve.

Jackpot by Vixenfur

"You know, I'm almost convinced that it was Miyuki Kazuya's bright idea to put a goddamn sex shop right inside of a perfectly normal cafe!" Sawamura threw up his hands. "If it weren't for that place, I wouldn't be as worked up as I am right now!" Haruichi tapped his chin as he nodded along to his roommate's rant. "That does seem like something he'd do... but I don't think that's the only reason you're so worked up over this, Eijun." A college, coffee shop & sex shop AU all in one!

Appeal by Franks22

Eijun’s heat comes three years early, and despite the attention he’s suddenly inundated with, the one Alpha he truly wants to spend it with still feels woefully out of reach.

Ruined Plans by Reyschien

Eijun hasn’t seen Miyuki since he graduated. Sure, they’ve talked plenty since then but it pales in comparison to seeing him in person and getting a glimpse at what months of separation have done to his old partner. They say that distance makes the heart grow fonder and while Eijun has found that to be true, his affections for Miyuki swelling until his heart is fit to burst, he finds that that’s not the only thing that’s grown.

Hall of Fame by Alia_Varrin

Sawamura Eijun has always aspired to be the strongest ranged class that the world has ever seen, however, growing up in a small town, in an even smaller guild didn't amount to a lot of opportunities to really test his abilities. Though, when he is given the chance to join one of the strongest guilds, Seido, he is reluctant. After circumstances befall his guild and with the persistence of his friends, Eijun ventures out to a much larger world of facing the most deadly of beasts with a new guild to help him grow and advance in ways he would not have been able previously. AKA, the one in which baseball teams are guilds and they fight through dungeons and raids with swords and magic for sport.

Sladick

as though i had wings by tospreadthewingsofthesoul

Bruce is back from the dead, and Dick isn't coping well. In fact, he's barely coping at all. It feels as though everything in his life is falling apart. So of course that's when Slade decides to reappear in Dick's life and turn everything upside down. A story about learning to ask for what you need, how to hold your boundaries, and how to trust that the people you love love you enough to help.

hold on to let go by roipecheur

The first time Dick met Deathstroke the Terminator, he was twelve years old, and the mercenary broke his leg and tied him up on a rooftop. In retrospect, Dick thinks it started there. Or, Slade keeps tying Dick up over the years, and Dick can't be blamed for getting his wires crossed.

And more on my separate list of Sladick fic recs!!!!

Kinnporsche

i'd probably still adore you (with your arms around my neck) by kurtstiel (and the entire i'm the one for your fire series)

Porsche experiences a drop after Kinn choked him to save him from the minor family. Kinn helps him through it.

love on the water, love underwater by butterflylungs

A day off, a surprise trip, and the dreams they've had to let go.

And more on my separate list of Kinnporsche fic recs!!!

Jaytim

a Study in Red by Ladelle

Unbeknownst to Tim, Jason falls unexpectedly hard for a college kid that lives off brie. or The slow-build Stolen Kisses prompt wherein Jason needs a tutor and Tim miraculously finds the time to pencil him in.

Kaishin

Midnight White by Alaena F. Dragonstar

An explosion at a KID heist puts an unpleasant end to the night. But it was only the beginning. It started when Takagi disappeared.

House of Cards by V. Shalyr

It all started when the strange side effects of yet another failed cure leave Shinichi in the care of an unusual magician.

Paper Faces by Sleeping Moon

When a new school year starts at Ekoda High, Kuroba Kaito is still no closer to discovering the whereabouts of his missing (and favorite) critic. Could a transfer student, the recently returned Kudo Shinichi, provide the clues he needs to find the Edogawa brat?

Morse Code by Miss Emotion

Kudo Shinichi had a bad habit, he tapped his thoughts in Morse code. Bad because if Kuroba Kaito just happened to catch his musings about how he was entertaining the different positions the thief could bend him into... Well it wouldn't be good.

Endless Chase by Desperatembrace

With the Organization on the move for unknown reasons, Shinichi's back to singing his old tune and devoting his entire being—despite coming down with an oddly persistent illness—to taking them down once and for all. Oh, and KID gets involved, too.

Scion by Cleflink

In a world where everyone has an Inheritance, Shinichi hates having to hide the fact that he's a Fire Scion almost as much as he hates being a Fire Scion in the first place. When a KID heist gets complicated by the appearance of an underground smuggling ring, Shinichi's going to have to use every advantage he's got - including his own unwanted Inheritance and a certain irritating Moon Scion phantom thief - to get out of things alive.

Divina Fortuna by Naometry

When Kudo Shinichi was five years old, he had been terrified of the dead. When Kudo Shinichi was sixteen years old, his powers got out of hand for the first time. When Kudo Shinichi was sixteen years old, the Bureau caught up with him for the first time. When Kudo Shinichi was seventeen years old, he got bonded to a familiar. Alternatively: Kudo Shinchi is a necromancer in desperate need of a familiar. Enter Kuroba Kaito.

cinders by 730kc (94k)

"That still doesn't explain what happened back there." The guard just smiled, mysterious, as he snapped his fingers. After the poof of smoke cleared, a rose flourished from his hand. "As expected of the Royal Inspector. Always wanting to know the truth and pick apart the wonders of magic." Conan stared at him as Kaito laughed, light and playful. He tucked the rose into Conan's hand. "Why don't you try dreaming a little?"[Kaishin medieval fantasy AU with a kick of black magic; Shinichi has shrunk, and Kaito is assigned to be his guard.]

The Trust in the Mistrust by cleflink

A bombing at a KID heist leads Shinichi to question the possibility of trust between a detective and a thief.

Let’s Go Get Lost by speckled_dragon

Shinichi always knew he’d leave when no one needed him anymore. He just hadn’t expected anyone to chase after him.

Where the Sky Touches the Sea by cleflink

Personally, Kaito would rather not get into his tragic backstory with his favourite detective, but involuntary physical transformations had an unfortunate way of forcing one's hand.

The Snowy Mountain Bus Crash Case by cleflink

A road trip to meet Sleeping Kogoro's newest client gets derailed when a fatal bus crash nearly takes Shinichi, Ran and Kogoro out along with it. Trapped on an isolated mountain road with the other survivors, Shinichi begins to wonder how much of an accident it really was - and how he's going to stop the person responsible from finishing the job.

Tomarry

A Dangerous Game by Cybrid

Tom Riddle opens the Chamber of Secrets in Harry’s fifth year at Hogwarts. After a botched attempt to extract the Horcrux in Harry’s scar leaves their souls tied together, Tom is forced to kidnap him when he makes his escape. A story of Horcrux hunting, adventure and unwilling attraction.

Welcome to the Cultys by duplicity

Harry had two main regrets in his life: 1. Asking the question “What if I set up a mock awards show to get cult leaders to show up for my thesis study?” and 2. Responding with “That is hilarious” when Ron had suggested they call the awards show 'The Cultys'.

Kisses Cursed by The_Fictionist

Fairytale AU. Loosely inspired by Beauty and the Beast. Some said he was once a man, cursed, and some that he sold his soul to demons and became one in turn. Others said that such evil as he could never have been human. That he was instead a nightmare, left lingering upon the earth a very long time ago. Harry just knew it wasn't safe to walk near the Riddle House after dark.

You’re Quite the Problem by wulcanbiology

One comment in a fit of anger costs Harry his reputation, safety, and sanity. What will Harry have to do to earn it all back?

draw me after you (let us run) by ToAStranger

“Harry Potter,” comes the soft, sibilant hiss of a voice he has heard in his dreams, in his nightmares, in his waking hours for years. Slowly, carefully, Harry twists over and pushes up onto his hands and knees. He stays there, short breath fogging in front of his face, and his pursuer lets him. Harry has no doubt of that; he’s being allowed this respite. This small moment to catch his bearings, heart pounding in his ears, blood singing. “It seems I have finally caught you.”

The Weight of Gravity by Skylanian_Writer

In May 1995, Harry Potter disappears from a graveyard. In August 1996, Harry Potter is found in muggle London. In September 1996, 16 year old Tom Riddle appears at Hogwarts searching for the boy he had spent the last year with. It only gets more complicated from there.

Geokata

Lost and Found by RosamundRosemary

After a curse gone wrong Katarina Claes wakes up with the appearance from her last life. Taking it as a sign from the universe, Katarina exiles herself and heads to countryside to become a farmer like she'd always planned. The gang refuses to give up hope and try to track down their missing friend. As they follow a trail of ancient curses, other identities and books of code, they realize there might have been more to Katarina’s actions besides eccentricity.

Fluri

In the Palm of His Hands by Anonymous

Terca Lumireis. Its crown capital, Zaphias. A young man, found and grown in the Lower Quarter. Hiding a gift that may save the world.

Dazatsu

the path lost children take by Lea

Oda dies before Dazai arrives, his words vanishing into the air of the dilapidated mansion and the light of the setting sun. Four years later, Mori dies in a tragic accident, and Dazai meets Atsushi.

the space between words by Lea

At twelve, he sank into a sea of words, the characters twining round and round him, until he was breathing in another world and living two, or three, or five, or ten or more lives. Or, where a writer touches a boy’s life, and where it takes six years for the favour to be paid in turn.

more than a spell or a chant by Lea

It takes quite a lot to ask somebody on a date. (This is the first part of the incredible Dazatsu Hogwarts AU by Lea!!! I definitely recommend checking out the whole series!!!)

take half a pint (take half your heart) by parhelions

Atsushi isn't sure how he got tangled up with Dazai, coven traitor turned vampire hunter, but he's glad he did. Maybe.

Write My Report by FransGivesMeLife

Dazai only thought that keeping mafia's most wanted bounty under their nose would be entertaining, but the more time he spends with his secretary the more reasons he finds to keep his secret.

Hualian

Crimson and Clover by Naamah_Beherit

A story in four parts about Xie Lian meeting Hua Cheng before his third ascension. Things thought lost are found, old secrets come to light, and one moment changes everything.

You Must Gather Your Party Before Venturing Forth by Naamah_Beherit

On his way down from Heaven to Mount Yujun, Xie Lian's sleeve catches on a cloud. He tumbles down to the mortal realm and ends up three days on foot away from his destination. There's nothing unusual about that. The surprising part is that he finds a companion for the road barely an incense time after hitting the ground.

dreams in the dark by Naamah_Beherit

Stuck on a planet he'd rather never have seen, Xie Lian dreams. Faced with a tsunami of cosmic proportions that will destroy everything he's built, Jun Wu makes a decision. Given an opening, Hua Cheng uses it and takes everything. Or: the story in which the most terrifying being in all of creation loves a mortal man.

To each his day is given by Naamah_Beherit

A story of how Xie Lian got caught in a ruse meant to pacify a certain ghost king and ended up with a husband.

Imagine: Us, Elsewhere by Naamah_Beherit

A story in which Xie Lian meets a ghost in the woods of Mount Yu Jun and in him finds someone he's lost hope to find.

and we were infinite by Naamah_Beherit

Hua Cheng has an idea. Xie Lian is more than willing to try it out. Also, there are clones.

Dawning by hypermoyashi

A fox's favor was difficult to obtain and was said to only ever end in tragedy. They were wily creatures, ones meant only for deception and seduction, but... There were always exceptions to every rule. The one lucky stroke in Xie Lian's life was, perhaps, having one fall in love with him.

Refulgence by Nyerus

Against the expectations of his people, Crown Prince Xie Lian chose to devote himself to the mysterious and feared god, Hua Cheng. The god has not been seen in centuries, nor has he been known to answer prayers in just as long. However, Xie Lian felt a mysterious connection to this god, and resolved to follow where that path would take him.

to bloom a pretty flower (for you) by Nyerus

Following the end of a years-long war that ravaged the Kingdom of Xian Le, young Crown Prince Xie Lian yearns to help the common people. Hiding his identity and under the cover of night, he sneaks away from the watchful royal guards on a regular basis to help the recovery efforts. On one fateful night, he meets the hero of the war: General Hua Cheng--and both their lives are changed forever.

狐狸精的故事; the fox spirit's story by yiqie

This is Xie Daozhang’s first Lunar New Year in the Ghost City, and it’s all hands on deck.

Tangled by ChoAyako

When Xie Lian gets caught again by the cocoon in Mount Tonglu, he quickly realizes that being tangled in Hua Cheng’s power is the only place he wants to be.

but a kaleidoscope by persicae

Hua Cheng has always given everything he is to Xie Lian. For once, Xie Lian wants him to be selfish so Xie Lian can give something back.

Drowning In It by capyshota

The essence of evil is thick enough to drink, and he can taste it even now, before he’s let it under his tongue and into his throat. It’s oppressive, and he has to resist the call to drown in it. Xie Lian tries to pull away but the grip on his wrists tightens to something dangerous. “I wouldn’t, if I were you,” Hua Cheng murmurs.

together by chocolatebun

In the myriad of silk blankets and pillows he’s woven around to fortify himself, tucked securely away from prying eyes with crimson brocade curtains cloaking their canopy bed, Xie Lian stirs.

The Pearl by moonqueenmaia

Xie Lian is perplexed when people begin remarking on the sheen of his skin. Hua Cheng lovingly shows him why.

Beta by indefinitelyforever

In a world full of alphas and omegas, Xie Lian is a beta. He doesn't really get what his friends are going through, and he's not sure if he wants to know, either.

Three Times a Charm, Fourth Time a Husband by Ying_an

The crown prince's cousin has been cursed by fox's magic and the brave prince travels far to the Realm of Foxes to plead forgiveness from the king... However, the wicked Fox King shan't give his forgiveness without a price...

A Vulpine Deception by UmbraSoleil

Perhaps Xie Lian shouldn’t have gone into those cursed woods in search of that spirit. After all, many who enter the woods are known to be turned into spirits themselves, never to leave…

Frenrey

Human Resources Violation by KogoDogo

Spiritual Successor to "It Came From the Vents." Gordon Freeman has spent three years trying to stabilize the AIs he befriended after a disastrous end to a military project. He's stolen company property, ignored his family, and neglected himself in hopes of success. Now that he's made progress, it's becoming increasingly apparent that one of the AIs in question may not be a program at all. No one can say for certain what this revelation will lead to, but one thing's for sure: HR is going to have a field day with this one.

In Which Gordon And Benrey Are Trapped In A Room Together by bennybonny

Freeman turns to the eldritch abomination and sighs. "Okay. Okay. So - if we're stuck in here together - we might as well play something to pass the time. A game." "nice," Benrey says. "I love playing games." (alternatively: The One In Which Benrey And Gordon Get Stuck In A Room And Need To Work Together In Order To Escape!)

run away (into my arms) by scriptdoctors

It was then that he realized just how unnaturally silent the forest was. The only sound to be heard was Gordon’s own heavy breathing as he turned from side to side. It was as if every animal was collectively frozen, holding their breath as they hid out of sight. The air hung heavy in the air, thrumming with a nervous energy as not a single breeze went by. It felt as though time had stopped and Gordon was caught in a loop, unknowing until just then. A twig snapped in the distance. Gordon spun around and faced the noise. In the distance among the tree line was a tall and dark shadow, unnaturally still.

Ommatophilia by CookiesVersusCream

What starts out as Gordon taking a moment for himself turns into so much more.

Speechless by Antilocapra

It took a ridiculously long time for the rest of the Science Team to realize that Gordon had lost the ability to talk. In their defense, though, it took him quite a while to notice himself.

DIY your Freeman series by Cazp

Gordon Freeman was supposed to die. Gordon Freeman didn’t die. Benry was supposed to be alone. Instead he picked up a pretty little pet.

Succ Au series by NiamhofTirnanOg

Gordon needed grant money and he needed it quick. What else was there to try but to summon a demon? What could go wrong?

Microwave by StupidSexySlimeGod

Sometimes, you just need to go out into the middle of a national forest, run deep into the night, and get railed by a giant space god. You know. For sport.

The Bet by spectralHarpy

Benrey and Gordon are having a couple friendly rounds of Mario Kart... until Benrey brings up an idea to make things a little more interesting.

Buzz Buzz Am I rite by MtMoon

Hlvrai happened and now Benry exists on Gordon's computer as a fucked up desktop buddy [ think Bonzi Buddy]. He can also take over phones, game systems, and anything that connects to wifi and/or bluetooth

Get To The Good Part by crowbar_sfx

“I need to stop thinking,” Gordon interrupts, climbing across the couch and straddling their thighs. He rides that spike of bravery and shoves his face into their neck, breath puffing over Benrey’s ear, confidence peaking when they shudder helplessly. “Make me stop thinking, Benrey. Please.”

Cracking Open A Cold One by BullRun

“you seen this before?” The man was talking at a normal volume in a rumbly monotone. “What?” Gordon startled and glanced over at the creep sitting next to him. He tried to keep his voice down, like you were supposed to in a movie theater. “It’s– No. I haven’t.” The man hummed. It somehow sounded both disbelieving and dismissive. He fiddled with his trucker cap in the dark. Gordon turned back to the movie. Some dudes were standing around for some reason. Plot was happening, maybe. He couldn’t focus on the dialogue. Who the fuck was this guy to judge him? The annoyance prickled under his skin as he fumed in silence. The guy clicked his tongue.Gordon’s self control snapped. “First of all, its still in fucking theaters. Why would I be paying to see it if I’ve seen it before? And second, I heard this movie is terrible.”

Sonadow

Tides of Chaos by LightningHikaru

The Fleetwood is on the open sea hunting its quarry, a Pirate ghost ship that attacks ships without warning and disappeared mysteriously. The Captain on this Naval ship, Sonic the Hedgehog was assigned this mission by Queen Elise herself to stop these Pirates for good. But what do they do when a mist surrounds their ship and are attacked by these unknown pirates?

Rose Drops by magicstorm101

Love, Intuition, and a little bit of magic ensues as Amy sends Sonic and Shadow on an unforgettable adventure.

I’m A Fine-Tuned Supersonic Speed Machine by realperson022

A fascination had grown within Sonic from seeing the Ultimate Lifeform's most prized possession ever since a joint mission was completed. But he never saw it in action — until he did...and experienced it first-hand, too. Or, 5 times Sonic looked at his rival with his motorcycle from afar, and 1 time Shadow caught him staring.

Rodincent

Taste Test by iguana8llama

Rubbing the dark circles under his eyes with a wet hand, Vincent sighed out the smoke. He needs new menu ideas, the bistro has cycled through a few of the same combinations too many times as of late. Flicking the ash off into the water, Vincent brings the cigarette to his lips and sucks in another lung full. Wonder what Lamoree’s favorite food is?

Giramy

But there's only one throne (and other such excuses to stick together) by 3x3

Personally, Yanma thinks there are many ways to go about the seating. It's not really about the seating, is it? You go to jail for two years and the next thing you know your coworkers have hooked up.

Getting to Know the Boogeyman by tinyDogboy

A short time after Jeramie announces himself to Chikyuu as King of the Bugnarok, Gira tries to come up with a plan to get some of the citizens of Shuggodam to welcome him. Where better to start than his own home? ( MY RANDOM TUMBLR THOUGHTS ACTUALLY LED TO THE CREATION OF THIS FIC!!! I LOVE IT SM!!!!)

And more on my separate list of Giramy fic recs!!!

Butchlander

Scorched Earth by SavageRex

It's been a few weeks since the Temp V gave him his death sentence (and he watched his Not Son chose the Actual Devil over him). Ever since, Billy's been hitting the bottle pretty hard, and some of his many mortal enemies catch him by surprise. He'd honestly be done for... But Homelander REALLY can't mind his own business, and breaks up the party. Billy's got his full attention now, and it seems the homicidal Supe isn't ready for their "game" to end. He has a few ideas on how they can keep playing...

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pepafms · 10 months

Text

ੈ✩ ( maluma. 28. cismale. him/he. ) : oh god , there is no way , pedro pablo " pepa " jaramillo i just walked past us ! it is only a matter of time before pheme reports on hollywood's pretty boy avoiding the paparazzi while wearing the air jordan 5 retro se craft . stan twitter is currently so obsessed with the actor - singer - songwriter and eats up everything they do since they project themselves as the rugged bad boy , with both tatted up sleeves, the odor of bleu de chanel on their person and the multitude of luxury accessories . but rest assured , the general public knows better about this A - lister , i mean we all saw that ' the colombian actor-songwriter has been hitting the clubs a little too much lately , has he hit rock bottom ? ' . i give it a day before people spins some positive publicity for them . ( tatia/tati/tatiana. she/her. 25. est+. ) tw: mafia , murder, blood, homicide, bombs.

pedro pablo " pepa " jaramillo was born on devils night ( or at lease thats what his grandmother used to say ) , born two minutes later than his twin sister at 10:02 am on october 31st, in medellin colombia. a fact that his twin loved to rub in his face , since she was born earlier , she was the boss and he had to do whatever she said. growing up with a majority masculinity in the jaramillo household was anything but pleasant. unlike his sister , he needed to prove that he was a jaramillo. that entailed fighting with his older brothers , in their mind : they were making him tougher. in his , well lets just say that it got worse before it got better. if there was anything that pepa was good at , it was certainly charming his way through any trouble he got himself into . ever since he was a little kid , trouble and pepa seemed like the perfect match : soulmates even. if there was anyone that pepa admired it was his father , he knew who they were , he knew what they did and still for someone reason , the thought of being part of something so dangerous , it made him feel powerful , respected. if there was anything that he learned from his father , it was simply that people respected power and they were royalty , no one dare even look at them the wrong way, he had learned that at a very young age. at the age of twelve , his father decided that he would allow pepa to go with his oldest brother to a " meeting " it was supposed to be some kind of pardon from the Mexican cartel, their had been some bad blood and things were going to be amended. he knew this was his one shot to show his father , that he was man enough to be part of the family business. though things didn't turn out like that . right before coming down to an agreement , it was called off and that their had to be a price to pay, blood for blood . it all happened in a blur and the next thing as he looks down at his hands . he sees them covered in blood, his attempts to save his brothers life were futile , they shared a moment , a small moment before he lost him . the ride back home was silent , its like the world around him stopped moving, like there was nothing else that mattered . as he stepped in colombian soil, he locked himself up in his chambers and didn't speak to anyone , not even his twin , he didn't even attend his own brothers funeral. shortly after that , his mother decided that a life in colombia wasn't the best , especially for camilo , who was still rather young. MIAMI was the next destination , his father had a lot of connections and people he trusted in , people who would bend backwards just to make sure that they had someplace to lay their heads. even his father started a winery business , to launder the money in of course. you can take the man out of the violence but you can't take the violence out of the man. his father was a prime example of this. the problem with business such as theirs , you always have a target on your back and most of the time , you're not even the goal itself . his mother was clear representation of that . another one lost , another one that had suffered at the hands of his father , part of him resented him , for letting this happen once again. as the years went by , everything changed . the family wasn't the same and it all became about greed for his father, something that sadly pepa learned all too well. with a family like theirs , with the type of life that they lived . pepa needed an escape , he needed something that he could use instead of having blood on his hands. music was that outlet , music was what helped him get through life and it's what landed him in the city of dreams, a platinum recording artist and the co owner of JARAMILLO ROCK RECORDS but nothing in this life comes without a little bit of suffering. the true question is would this be a venture for the jaramillo twin or would this be the end of the line.

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cutieodonoghue · 2 years

Text

invisible string (16/18)

summary: modern soulmate birthmark au; After Omera lost her soulmate, she lost hope she’d ever find love again. Then, a short time before Earth’s first colony ship will be sent to a place they call the Outer Rim, she meets a Mandalorian whose touch makes her Soul Mark burn. (Mandomera!)

rating: hard T

word count: ~5.2k

prev. chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen

read chapter 16 down below or on ao3!

an: Quick reminder that I'm updating every day now so don't miss yesterday's update! :) Thanks for reading!!

Chapter 16: Engine Trouble

“Incident report one. 01.02.09.

The ship is in good condition following a small leak we encountered in the cryo bay. One of the nozzles was loose on the pumps on Pod 95. All souls are healthy and accounted for. Primary power is still engaged and fully operational. [Attached: Security Log 01.02.08 - Cryo Bay] [Attached: Personal Video Log 0001, Crew Member: Din]

>Personal Video Log 0001 (Crew Member: Din)

Personal log one. Day two. It’s been smooth since we took off. A few hours ago, the computer alerted us to a leak in the cryo bay. Easy fix. The colonists are all okay.

The computer almost triggered the wakeup procedure on the bridge when the alert came through. I reset it and ran a dry test. Hopefully it was just a bug.

[sighing]

I’ve been keeping busy with the bridge imaging monitor. Not a lot to report. Got this shot of Saturn on the first day. Made me think of someone. [Attached: Photo - Bridge Capture 01.01.11.96]

I’ll check back in later if anything interesting happens.” - Transcribed Crew Flight Video Logs, The Razor Crest (Crew Member: Din, Entry 0001)

“Leia wants you on the ship.”

Din looked up from his tablet to see Fett enter the office with a casual sigh. He sat down at his desk and lifted his eyebrows as he awaited a response.

“I told you. I’m not going.”

Fett nodded. “Yeah. That’s what I told her, but she insists you need to be there. You trained the bridge crew. You’ll be an asset on Planet Alpha and anything that comes after. What do I have to do to make it happen?” The man waited. He sat forward in his seat. “I can get you pretty much anything you want.”

Din shook his head. “I can’t leave.”

He looked back down at his tablet, done with the conversation, but his boss sighed again.

“Djarin, you’ve been… stiff and miserable for months. I’ve been respectful. Thought you needed the space. But then you took your name off of the manifest with less than a week until launch day. What happened?”

The way Fett spoke to him reminded him of his own father. There was kindness in him that didn’t want anything more than to help.

Din thought about the kid. It was all he could think about lately. After things ended with Omera, he had to make the choice to move on and instead focus on what he was staying for: Grogu.

The ship would leave in a few days. Omera would be on board. As much as he wasn’t okay with that, he’d found peace in it.

Din lifted his gaze. “I’m Bonded to Omera.”

Fett’s eyes grew wide in immediate surprise. “Omera.”

He nodded. “We… were going to go together to the Outer Rim. Then, the Mandalorians found out. They decided to take the kid and gave me the choice between staying with him and getting clean or losing my job here. It would’ve thrown the whole mission off track, so I chose to go with them.”

His boss sat back again. “That’s what those reports are for.”

“Right,” Din replied. “They wanted to make sure I’m not seeing her while I’m at work.” His jaw clenched. “I took my name off the manifest because I can’t leave without the kid.”

There was understanding and patience in Fett’s eyes. “We can fix it.”

Din narrowed his eyes. “If you’re going to suggest taking the kid and running now that the work is finished, I’ve thought about that already.”

His boss frowned, confused. “Why won’t it work?”

He sighed. “They’ll claim a Mandalorian child was sent into space without consent. It would put Falcon underwater. Bad press would kill any future missions and funding. I won’t do that to you.”

Fett nodded slowly. Then, as if he made up his mind, he stood and grabbed his phone. “Come with me. We’re going to meet up with Leia. Tell her what you told me.”

Din stood. “I can’t ask you to-”

“You had a path.” Fett shook his head. He lifted his phone to his ear. “Let’s get you back on it. We need you out there.” He became earnest, “Omera needs you out there. I was there when she lost her Bond. Took every ounce of hope straight out of her. I won’t let that happen again.”

Armas was silent. If it was in surprise, or if it was a mechanism to inspire dominance over the situation, Din wasn’t sure. She was outnumbered and hadn’t been given the chance to prepare for this meeting.

In the chairs opposite her at her desk at the covert were Din, with Grogu in his lap, Leia Organa, and Boba Fett.

They’d gone straight to the covert from the office when Leia learned what was keeping him from joining the crew on the Razor Crest. Her exact words were: “Like hell they will. Come on, I’m going to give them a piece of my mind.”

In the time since then, Leia had come up with a solution that felt foolproof. It was almost upsetting that Din hadn’t thought of it himself. Although, it wouldn’t have been possible without leverage that only Leia could provide.

“When we made our agreement to hire a Mandalorian, we mentioned the possibility of them being sent to the Outer Rim,” Leia said calmly, “but how could we have known he was given guardianship over this child? It seems unfair to separate them.”

“The stipulations of our agreement have not changed,” Armas replied coolly. “Din Djarin will simply no longer be the Mandalorian sent to the Outer Rim on this ship.”

“You’re right,” Leia agreed. “The Mandalorian that Falcon Aerospace Industries would like on board this ship is Grogu.” She gestured to the child in Din’s lap with both of her hands. “If you deny us this, we have grounds to sue you for breach of contractual obligation.”

Armas stared at Leia. Din wasn’t sure how she felt, if she felt anything at all. She was always impossible to read.

Finally, after several seconds, she leaned forward.

“The child is not Mandalorian. He cannot teach the Way. He can barely speak. We cannot in good conscience agree to send him as our ambassador.”

“He is being raised here,” Fett spoke up, “which makes him Mandalorian in title, regardless of what he knows right now.”

Armas looked at the man. “How do you know this?”

“My father and I were both Mandalorian children,” he replied evenly. “I was lucky I got out before it was too late.”

Din felt Grogu’s fingers on his. The boy had been quiet since he arrived, but he was made even more anxious by Armas and didn’t hesitate to show it. He sat facing the opposite way, looking out the windows in her office, and held onto Din as tightly as he could.

“If your suggestion is that we don’t care for our children, you are incorrect,” Armas said. “Everything we have done for the child, Grogu, and for Din Djarin, has been to protect them as they live according to our beliefs.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Leia said in an effort at cooling things down. “I think we’ve lost track of what’s important. We want Grogu on our ship.”

Armas looked at Din. “Does the child wish to go to the Outer Rim?”

He swallowed as he looked down at the kid. “Grogu?”

His boy looked back up at him, glad to hear him speak his name.

“Do you want to go to space?”

For a few seconds that felt so impossibly long, the boy was dead silent, and Din worried that he had clammed up because of Armas. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Grogu go to space,” he finally replied. He smiled at Din and reached up to the edge of his helmet to touch it gently. “Daddy go to space.”

Din held Grogu closer. He didn’t want to look away. “What’s in space, buddy?”

His smile reached his eyes. “Home.”

Din nodded, proud of him, and felt tears in his eyes as he looked up at his Mandalorian mentor.

Armas sighed heavily. “We will allow the child, Grogu, to be the Mandalorian sent to the Outer Rim.”

Leia beamed at Armas. “We appreciate your willingness to take our meeting.”

She stood, leading Din and Boba to do the same, but before they could go, Armas held up a hand.

“Din Djarin, have you decided to leave the covert having unsettled your atonement?”

He swallowed thickly. “I have.”

Armas nodded in understanding. She stood up. “I had hoped you would be able to overcome your attachments, but I see now that your heart is set and there is no changing it.” Her hands extended outward. “Relinquish your helmet. You won’t need it anymore.”

Din stood there in shock for a few seconds before he finally touched his hand to his helmet. Grogu helped him push it off, something he thought poetic, and when he was free of the Mandalorian face covering, he set it into Armas’ hands.

“It is the Way to forsake attachments to focus on what’s important,” Din told his mentor. “It was only when I Bonded that I realized what true focus feels like.”

Armas set his helmet down on the desk in front of her.

“I will raise him with Mandalorian beliefs,” he added, “but he will be allowed attachments.”

She was quiet. “A new type of Mandalorian for a new world.”

Din nodded.

“You have my blessing,” Armas shared, surprising him. “Teach many this new Way.”

He gave Armas a small smile. “I will. Thank you.”

As he followed Leia and Boba out of the covert, Din squeezed Grogu closer and kissed the top of his head, filled with relief that the worst of it was finally over.

Just outside of the building, Leia climbed into a private car. Boba had brought his truck. Din would have to ask for help for just one night before the ship was scheduled to depart.

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t tell Omera,” Din said to Leia at her car door. “I need to apologize. I don’t want it coming from anyone else.”

Leia looked between him and Grogu. She nodded. “Of course.” She smiled. “You’ll be our Primary Team lead pilot. I’ll have Fennec send your paperwork and schedule tonight. Where will you be staying?”

“They’ll stay with me,” Fett spoke up.

Din’s eyes widened with surprise, but he said nothing. He and Fett exchanged nods.

“Thank you,” Din told Leia earnestly. “I couldn’t have done this without your help. I was ready to stay behind.”

“I’m glad you’ll be on the ship. You’re important to the mission.” She looked at Grogu and her smile became warmer. “You were both worth fighting for.”

After Leia’s car pulled away, Din was left with hope that burst through his chest in a way it hadn’t before. For the first time since he was a small boy, he no longer had to fight one way or another.

“Let’s get your things,” Boba told him. “Will you want a ride over to Omera’s tonight?”

Din’s heart leapt. There were too many uncertainties about how she might react to what he’d done and he didn’t want to face them head on just yet. He would talk to her in the morning, before the ship took off when they were both locked into their roles and there was no turning back. She deserved to know for certain that he was all in and that nothing would pull them apart again.

“No. Not tonight. There should be time tomorrow morning.”

“I need your help.”

His soul was immediately assaulted with a tight burst of fear. And then there was the noise. The wail of the alarms was familiar but still so foreign.

He forced himself to focus as he stepped out of his pod, leaving behind blissful dreams of what he hoped his future would look like and a heart at peace for nothing but chaos.

To his surprise, Omera was the only one awake. She had a hazmat suit on, which could only mean one thing: a chemical breach in the engine.

They had trained for this. There were weeks of training that the crew had done to prepare for literally every possible scenario, ranging from small to massive scale. The simulators in training were part of that, though being in a real scenario felt very different than any of the preparation was.

In an uncontrolled environment, he and Omera would have to work in perfect tandem. The lives of everyone on board were at stake. The lives of their kids were at stake.

There was a glaring sense of urgency, but amidst that urgency, he couldn’t help but realize that this was the first time they’d been awake in the same room in weeks - flight time notwithstanding.

He’d missed her. He’d missed everything about her. And he had no idea if she was ever going to be his again.

Those thoughts didn’t matter, though, with a hot alarm in his ear and the main bridge console lit up with alerts and procedural guidelines.

“There’s been a breach,” she explained. “I’m going to go fix it, but I need you to walk me through it from the bridge.”

He nodded. “Did you power down the air filtration on the lower deck?”

“The vents were closed while I brought you out of cryo.” Omera hesitated. “Life support was disengaged in the engine room immediately to prevent spillage, so I’ll only have a few minutes at most.”

Now he understood the fear in his soul. She was fearful that she’d fail. It was a one person job, and in the event that something went wrong, he was her choice to do what he could to fix it.

He couldn’t help but think back on her training in the simulator. She had been one of the best in the final simulation test, but it hadn’t been without bruising their trust and connection with cold, clinical language and an even colder shoulder.

“Gravity?” he asked.

She nodded. “Still operational, but there’s no airflow.” She began to walk backward toward the door off of the bridge toward engineering. “Warn me when the integrity is near ninety percent. If it gets that low, we’ll have to wake someone else up and see if there’s a hidden leak.”

Once she was gone, Din looked directly at the primary engineering console that sat next to the piloting station.

“Engine integrity at ninety eight percent,” the computer shared.

He sucked in a breath as he brought up the camera feed for the engine room. She hadn’t arrived just yet, but would very soon.

It would be hard to calm down. Her fears were strongest in his soul but his fears were close behind them.

Since the computer woke her up first, she’d had to take on the mantle of leader whether she wanted it or not. Per the programming, she would always be chosen to wake up first in the event that something went wrong with the engine. She knew it better than anyone here- even the crew engineers were a step below.

He wondered what she thought of him being on board. Was she surprised? Upset? Had she somehow known beforehand?

Through huge carefully sealed doors, Omera entered the engine room.

The sheer scope of the engine was always a concern of his. There was a lot of room for failure, but they’d tested it on its own for four full years before they committed to using it for long-term travel. Chemical leaks were common and easy to fix, so there wasn’t any need to panic.

Once it was done, they would have time to sit down and talk about what happened. He really hoped she wasn’t so upset with him that they’d have no future, but he would understand if she wanted to put space between them. He had been distant and cold in their time apart to try and make it easier.

“The breach is in the forward quadrant,” he told her through the comms in her suit. “Left hand side. Station three.”

Omera made her way toward the station carefully. “I can see the fumes. The chemical hasn’t been fully vacuumed out.”

He glimpsed at the screen on the console that indicated how much integrity the engine sat at. Still above 90%.

“The only way we’ll be able to get it cleaned up is by opening an airlock when you’re done.”

Omera was quiet. Focused. He watched through a new camera angle when she went straight toward the breach.

Beside the engine, there were workstations at quadrant intervals that contained what they would need to perform for scheduled and unscheduled maintenance.

She pried open the workstation lid at the forward quadrant and reached inside for the kit and bolt drill. He’d seen her operate them before. He knew she could handle them. This step was the simplest.

It would be fine, but he couldn’t help feeling uneasy. From what he could tell, this was the first major setback during their journey and if the problem wasn’t resolved, lives were at stake.

“I’m shaking,” she admitted with a trembling breath.

He closed his eyes briefly. “You’re doing fine. It should be easy. When it’s over, we can talk.”

Omera released a purposeful breath. “We definitely need to talk.” She returned to the leak site and asked, “Can you disengage the forward part of the engine?”

Din set his thumb on the authorization button on the console. “Done. Need you to give consenting authorization.”

“Computer, power down the forward part of the engine,” she said. “We will re-engage in five minutes.”

“Powering down.”

The system went dark. The glow of the engine dimmed. A light on Omera’s helmet flicked on.

“Eight bolts,” he told her. “That’s all. Then you’re done.”

Then, they could sit down and talk the way they needed to.

Omera pressed the thick metal sheet against the leak with one hand. With the other, she operated the bolt drill. It was virtually foolproof, but he could hear her breathing tremble through the mic in her suit.

He tried to quiet his soul. Anything he could do to help her.

“I just-” Omera’s voice cut off with a crackle.

He analyzed the video, narrowing his eyes some. She continued to work. Whatever happened to her mic’s feed must have been related to her suit.

“There’s some interference. Can you hear me?”

She stopped what she was doing and turned to face the camera. Tapped her ears.

Din cursed. He didn’t like the idea that she could need help and he wouldn’t know.

“Keep going,” he said on the off chance she’d hear. The computer alerted him of the engine integrity. 96%. “There’s not a lot of time.”

Omera returned to work. He watched her finish six of eight bolts before something happened to her. She bent over halfway and clutched at her chest.

Shit. Shit. The suit had been punctured.

Din scrambled into action. He ripped open the door beside the engineering door and grabbed a hazmat suit that he fumbled his body into. He couldn’t go fast enough.

He felt her soul cry out. It burned him like he’d started on fire and it was terrifying.

Once he was in his suit, he ran the entire length of the ship to the engine room and didn’t let up until he was next to her.

She’d soldiered through and finished bolting the metal sheet, but she remained doubled over and coughed violently.

“Computer, re-engage the forward engine and restore ventilation in the engine room.”

He went to Omera’s side just in time for her to collapse onto the floor. His soul immediately went ice cold. It fractured. Bent. He could feel her fading heartbeat in it.

“No!”

In one swift movement, Din leaned down and lifted Omera off of the floor. He tossed her over his shoulder like she was a rag doll and rushed out of the engine room. He only stopped to put her down once they cleared the doors. They sealed behind him with a heavy thud.

“Computer, open airlock six for five seconds,” he ordered, breathless.

“Opening airlock six.”

Din quickly yanked Omera’s helmet off and was forced to watch her pale face lull to the side. She was out cold, but he could still feel her with him. It was just so small.

He took the rest of the suit off for her and then carried her away from the toxic suit to place her body into the decontamination tank. It was an upright machine that was positioned next to a small emergency medical bay.

Inside the tank, her body was propped up by prongs on the back wall, limbs limp and head hung against her chest. He touched his fingers against her neck to check her pulse. It was weak.

Once he stuffed her suit into a decontamination bin, his next course of action was to grab the medical supplies he needed from the nearby wall while the machine sanitized her to cleanse her skin and lungs.

His soul ached. It throbbed. It felt increasingly worse, to the point that he physically knew he might lose her because his body almost doubled over in sheer agony.

He ripped his suit off and tossed it aside as he prepared an oxygen mask that had a gauge to detect the chemical toxicity in a user’s breath.

Din winced when he was hit with a fresh crippling wave of pain that came from seemingly nowhere within him. This time, he had to stop moving to try and breathe through it.

They still hadn’t been able to talk about what happened. He hadn’t had the chance to apologize.

They hadn’t had any time to build the life they dreamed about. The kids were still young. He couldn’t raise them by himself. He didn’t want to.

He wanted her to wake up so they could go to the Outer Rim together. What time they’d shared on Earth wasn’t nearly enough.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

Was this his reward for everything he’d done? Was he about to lose his soulmate because he couldn’t stay faithful to the Way? Because in everything he did, he chose her?

Din waited impatiently for the tank door to open. When it did, he hauled her limp body against his and carried her to the floor immediately beside it.

Another pang wracked his body. This one was so much worse than before. His soul swirled frantically, like it cried out to its companion. Strangely, his Mark began to burn impossibly hot. It hadn’t done that since they Bonded.

“No, no, no.”

He forced himself to move, physically fighting against his own body to get the breathing mask.

Tears leaked free from his eyes on their own accord. He could feel nothing but darkness, an endless pit that he felt his own soul getting sucked into.

His body felt stiff. His muscles tightened and his lungs refused air. He felt himself get dizzy as the Soul Mark beneath his ear became increasingly more inflamed. His vision blurred and his hands both trembled violently, unable to keep still enough to hold the mask properly.

He became furious with himself. She was dying and his body wouldn’t cooperate long enough to save her.

A growl wretched out of his chest when he tightened his fingers around the medical tool and pressed it against her face so it covered her nose and mouth.

His chest heaved, gasping for breaths that just weren’t coming, as tears ran down his cheeks. His body acted on its own, unable to hold anything back while his Mark grew somehow hotter.

Was this what it had felt like for her before? This dark, terrible, awful torture? Knowing he’d lost her- that he’d failed her?

She had been so willing to let him go before. She’d given him countless ways out. The only time she’d panicked was when he suggested breaking their Bond. Now he understood why.

“Breathe,” he instructed through gritted teeth. “Come back. Wake up. Please.”

All at once, everything changed.

She bolted upright with a sharp gasp and the dark pit within him became light again. The grip his own soul had on his body was released and he could breathe once more.

“You’re okay,” he told her, more for himself than for her.

She sucked a clean breath from the device he still held against her face.

His eyes watered as he touched his other hand to the back of her head and kissed her forehead out of pure relief that the worst of it was over; that he hadn’t lost her.

“You’re okay,” he murmured again, his lips pressed against the crown of her head. He closed his eyes tightly. “It’s okay. Just breathe.”

Omera held onto his gaze as her breathing slowly returned to normal and he dragged his hand over the side of her face and into her hair, unable to stop feeling how warm she slowly became. Her skin felt clammy and wet, but there was life surging through her that felt tangibly beneath his fingertips.

It took a few exhales for the red color on the indicator to go away. He only pulled the device away once it turned green, and even then he was careful and made her breathe out a few more times before he tucked it back into the kit.

“You should take a shower,” he told her. “Have the computer scan you after. Make sure it’s all gone.”

Omera nodded, but she was silent with the shock of what she’d been through. He helped her to her feet and she clung to him with her arm tight around his waist.

“Engine integrity restored,” the computer trilled overhead. “Life support on the engine deck has been reinstated.”

“Computer, is there any indication of a leak in the engine?” Din asked as they walked slowly toward the crew quarters.

“Negative. The engine is presently free of damage. System is fully operational.”

They’d done it. It was over.

Now, they could both breathe easier.

The crew showers were in one small room. There were dividers that separated into three stalls, should more than one need to be used at a time, but it seemed unlikely to him that it would ever be the case.

When he got Omera positioned beside the first shower stall, he took the initiative to turn the water on for her. She waited quietly for him to return.

“I’ll go find you something to wear,” he told her. “Do you need help getting out of your suit?”

He gestured to the skin-tight cryo suit she wore. He’d have to change out of his, too. They were going to have to stay up for a day per protocol anyway, so he might as well do it comfortably.

Slowly, her eyes went from him to her body. She shook her head, still wordless.

“Be right back.”

Din was out of the showers before Omera could say anything. He found her something to wear in her locker and kept them in a neat pile as he returned to find her beneath the stream of water hidden behind a privacy wall.

He left the pile of clothes out for her with a towel and said, “I’m gonna go get changed.”

Omera didn’t reply. Maybe it was for the best. It took everything in him to not picture what she looked like behind that privacy wall.

While he walked toward his cabin, he had to remind himself that they weren’t together anymore. He ended things so he could show honor to the Way and to the Mandalorians, but to her as well. She owed him absolutely nothing. If she wanted to put distance between them and keep things neutral like they were before, that was fine.

Inside his cabin, he changed out of his cryo suit and into a pair of lounge sweats and a loose cotton knit top. It felt so much gentler than the unrelenting pinch of the all-purpose fabric of the cryo suit.

He sat down on the edge of his bed and a pang of guilt hit him in the chest when he thought about Omera again.

What if she didn’t want him in her life anymore?

The fact that he was on the ship, that he’d been the one to revive her, might have been the final straw.

He’d done all of this, come all this way, so they might get a chance to be together again the way they dreamed. He hadn’t talked to Omera individually since that day in her office, and he knew he hadn’t been good to her after that.

Their interactions were always stilted. Always cold. Always brief. He couldn’t crack because if he did, there was no telling where it would have led him.

If Omera wanted to talk, they would, but he didn’t want to force it. He didn’t want to make her do anything she wasn’t comfortable with- especially after he almost just lost her.

It was uncanny- he could still feel the ache of loss in his bones as if their souls were pulled taut in the aftermath of a near death experience.

All he knew was he was grateful he hadn’t severed the Bond by force. He was also glad they were going to age in tandem so that she wouldn’t have to deal with that pain on her own from galaxies away.

Din stared at the floor of his cabin for a long time before he decided to search for Omera in case she might need help.

She wasn’t in the showers, but her cabin door was sealed closed when he made his way up the hall to check if she went to lay down.

Good. She was probably exhausted and overwhelmed. She should rest.

His fingers twitched at his sides restlessly as he stood in the hall with his eyes set on her door as if he could see through it. With a small shake of his head, he made his way out of the crew quarters and instead onto the bridge.

He’d wait for her to make the first move. He didn’t want to push. He wanted to tell her everything, but only if she wanted to know everything.

It was ridiculous. He had somehow survived months apart from her, but the prospect of another hour or two felt unbearable and impossible.

Din sat down in a chair at one of the computer consoles and ran a hand over his face.

An hour. Sixty minutes. Three thousand six hundred seconds.

It was much better than the alternative of a lifetime apart.

Read Chapter 17

#mandomera #din x omera #the mandalorian #my writing #invisible string fic #hihi it's a surprise daytime update :)#this chapter...........#me @ din in the last scene: tell me you're in love without telling me you're in love

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nothingofvaluewaslost · 2 years

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STORY: The Tube

A short, dark science fiction story. When her beloved boyfriend Lianjie comes down with severe anaemia, Nuó has to become his donor.

If you enjoyed it, have a look at my Patreon.

The Tube, by Christina Nordlander

There is a folk tale that all people are tied to their destined husband or wife by a red string that no-one can see. I first came across it in a children’s magazine in a bookshelf in grandmother’s house when we stayed there one summer. It was comforting, maybe? I was so young I could barely read on my own, too young to have started longing for a boyfriend. I wanted to get married because I wanted to be like mum and my grandmothers. I couldn’t imagine happiness without a family of my own.

When my sister Wei was preparing her wedding I talked with her about the legend of the red string, and she called it “fascistic.” I was twelve, short-legged with flat greasy hair, and the boys in school were so uninterested in me I might have been a boy myself. I wanted to believe that everyone had a soulmate. Wei looked at it realistically, what it would be like if the gods went around breeding us like a farmer does his bulls and cows.

It doesn’t matter. The red string is invisible except in dreams and works of art: even if it existed, you wouldn’t be able to do anything with it.

It’s more than ten years since I stopped dreaming about the red string. Sometimes it feels as if the distance between the chubby girl Nuó who read Cultural Revolution-era children’s magazines in grandmother’s guest bedroom – even the memory is musty brown like a sepia photo – and the glassy apartment complex where I work is as long as the distance between my reading the magazine and the time when it was printed. My title is “office employee,” but my office is the bedroom when I roll the mattress into one of the opaque walls. The tower belongs to Tujin Corporation, everyone who lives here is an employee. The room and board is part of our salary.

I haven’t been able to think about much else lately: I don’t know what will happen if I can’t keep working.

Mum has stopped trying to persuade me to get married, now that I have Lianjie. We met at university. He was pretty, with his slender body and a weird hairstyle with floppy curls that I teased him about. Sometimes when we went out in the weekends he got giddy and had to grab on to something to stay upright. That was what led to us getting together: we were down town looking at cinema posters, he started reeling and I supported him and felt his warmth through his shirt. I make him sound fragile, but he was strong, he liked to lift me under my arms when he didn’t have the light-headedness. Everything about our first few months was so manhua-cute.

It was almost ten PM when he was admitted to Renji Hospital. I wasn’t allowed to follow him to his ward, since we weren’t married. I took the subway home and went into the bedroom. I’d been thinking I could get a few folders done while waiting, but instead I ended up sitting by the glass wall facing out over Shanghai, squares of light and deep soft black beneath me. I had the fluorescent lights off to be able to see anything other than yellow glare. I wished I were on the outside, so I could feel the sharpness of the night air.

The next time I was allowed to see Lianjie he lay half on his side in the hospital bed. He was so pale, as if there weren’t enough matter left beneath his skin. His smile was almost unchanged. The nurse said that it was a severe form of anaemia, that he wasn’t going to die from it as long as he received blood transfusions.

Others could have donated, but I volunteered because I was his girlfriend. Now he lives with me in Tujin Tower. We have a flexible transparent plastic tube that fastens automatically and opens the skin and the vein on the lower arm. It is durable and can be stretched a little before snapping back. Sometimes we left it on longer than we needed, while one of us rested stretched out on the mattress. The tube glistened between us like some futuristic accessory.

How you do know when you’ve stopped loving someone?

Some would say that love shouldn’t be something ephemeral, that it ought to be as unchangeable as a chemical element, but we know better. We’re human. At age twenty-two I knew divorcees in my parents’ generation, and in my own. I had classmates who’d had great loves and couldn’t remember what it had felt like, even though both they and their partners were the same people. It had probably happened to me as well, but I can’t remember any relationships before Lianjie.

I started getting tired of how he was content to collect sick pay and stopped looking for work, even though he could have worked from Tujin Tower when I did. I started getting tired of how he expected me to clean and sort out the washing, in addition to working – but now I’m back-talking him. It’s easier, more pleasant as well.

The truth? It wasn’t anything he did. One evening I looked at him, then at the tube that stretched from me, and my heart beat a little faster, as if there was something I needed to flee from. It was an irrational reaction, but it didn’t go away because I realised it.

It’s not as if there was another man. I had male friends, some of them might have been good-looking, but I would have been offended if one of them had suggested anything. (Perhaps I wished that someone would flirt with me, so that I could turn him down.) There wasn’t another woman, either, at that time.

“You must love him so,” mum said when we were staying at my family’s one weekend.

Was that when I realised it? I could only say yes.

On Sunday night, when we were back in the apartment, he said:

“I miss you, sweetie...”

He lay half-reclined against the wall playing a video game, I wasn’t even a yard away.

He jolted as if he hadn’t noticed that he’d said it, and went on:

“You know I’m trying to get better.”

There he laughed, but it sounded light and scraped clean. It sounded like something other than a laugh.

“I know it’s stupid... but you want to believe you’re in control of your own body, because it is you. As if all you need to do is think hard enough to keep the red blood cells alive.”

I moved closer and stroked his hair. It’d grown a bit long over the back of his neck. I lay pressed against his back, but the illness hadn’t lowered his temperature. His body was just a thin layer around some vivid heat inside. I said all the things you were supposed to say, “it’s not your fault.” He knew already.

At night we lay on the unrolled mattress. The sky was smoky red outside the glass that was one of the tower’s mirror squares. We were too high for blinds. (The change had set in.) I thought that Lianjie was asleep, but when I turned my head I saw the glass-glint of his upturned eyes. Our insides circulated back and forth between us.

It was a few months ago.

I started noticing little flaws: an inky taste in my mouth, a swollen frail headache that made my head wobble on my neck. I didn’t think about the fact that it was Lianjie’s symptoms, not until I too started staggering in the corridors.

The first few days I didn’t say anything, from some superstitious belief that it wouldn’t be serious until I admitted it.

Now I got to feel what Lianjie felt: the exhaustion, the uselessness. He’d never told me what happened to your brain when it started powering down from lack of oxygen, how it felt like some of the tissue took damage that might not be reversible. I continued with the data entry job, there was nothing else I could do, but eventually I sat there with a nausea that forced me to lie down and didn’t get noticeably better because I gave in. I felt as if I couldn’t breathe, and it was true. My blood couldn’t transport enough oxygen.

The difference was that I could have disconnected the tube and been healthy again. Did I think about that possibility – I must have done.

You don’t want to die, do you? Even those who died as martyrs for their homeland or their religion must have panicked before the dark. Maybe I just want to believe that.

Now I didn’t have to choose and show my weakness, because the infirmary doctor said that Lianjie needed another donor. A host, I thought then. I wasn’t able to supply him with enough blood, no matter what I did. It’s not something you can rip out of your body in one go.

Lianjie was in luck, his blood type isn’t unusual. We found a donor on our floor. She lived many apartments away, but after a couple of weeks she was able to switch to one next to us. Her name is Li Ming. I don’t know whether I was expecting her to only donate while I was recovering. Now we take turns.

Li Ming came up with the idea of unscrewing the plate of an air vent in the wall between our apartments and draw her tube through it. I wouldn’t have known what to do.

Next to me she looks like a model: slimmer waist, hair curly and almost Western-looking. I felt bad for noticing it – seeing it –, because I never used to see those things in other girls. So slowly came the realisation that I was jealous.

One Saturday I was down in the shopping complex. I needed a new pair of shoes, the soles were starting to come off, but the shoe shop was so full of children and noise, it felt like I was suffocating again. I grabbed the first pair that didn’t hurt me, and as I hurried out through the complex – white walls, mirror-bright floors – I saw Lianjie and Li Ming, side by side, heading my way. If I hadn’t slunk off they would have seen me. Perhaps they saw me anyway.

I was in the apartment when Lianjie came back. He was in a good mood when we went out to the dining-hall for lunch: satiated, healthy for the time being. He didn’t say anything, and I managed a few days without mentioning it. Finally I had to ask him, when we were alone.

Lianjie’s eyes were a bit big when he looked at me. He couldn’t even remember being out with Li Ming until I told him.

“But we’re friends,” he said. “Do you think the world is so clichéd that I’m cheating on you just because I’m spending time with another girl?”

He was right, after all. Reality didn’t work like soap operas.

Had I thought that I was free? It wasn’t love that bound us any longer. Perhaps it was something more primitive. He would still have needed me not to drain Li Ming.

I wish I hadn’t thought “free.”

I rarely talk to her. I would like to ask her if she’s in love with him. I was about to, until I realised that she could only take it as an insult.

It wouldn’t change anything. Part of her body circulates between our rooms and in under Lianjie’s skin, and mine. I don’t know how I’m supposed to be able to disregard it.

A few weeks after the shoe shop, Li Ming’s blood stopped being enough for him.

THE END

#science fiction #sci-fi #sf #blood #anemia #anaemia #donor #host #short story #very short story #romance #unhappyromance

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jkstompers · 3 years

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a royal engagement | jjk

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader

summary: the rough ground against his clothed knee doesn’t matter anymore when he sees the sweetest smile on your face. everything is perfect.

genre: arranged marriage but they wanna do it right!, best friends to lovers, royalty!au, FLUFF, crown princess!oc, prince!jk, surprises!, jk believes in soulmates confirmed, oc is so in love, perhaps jk flexes how rich he is in this ~(˘▾˘~)

warnings: mentions of sex, sexual tension, more talk of exes (both jk and oc’s), they both talk about losing their virginity, mild jealousy, mentions of menstrual cycles, a little bit of lip locking action

word count: 11.1k

author’s note: ♡ happy jungkook day! ♡ this chapter spans over a week and a half-ish! also i made a little oopsies in the last chapter when i said that oc had only been back in raemor for a week… it’s actually been a month since she’s left the city. i’m sorry about that! i changed it on an arrangement already, but i just figured it out when i was editing this chapter. other than that, i’m so excited for this series and i hope u all enjoy!! pls lmk what u think! ღ'ᴗ'ღ

banner pic creds here! <3

jungkook had the utmost faith in you.

there was something in him that always knew that the love the two of you had ran way deeper than a friendship— probably more than a relationship too. it was something like a soul tie. something the stars created before the earth was ever created. two beings that were always meant to be together, in every universe, in every time before and after this. jungkook held his hope in that. his trust that the love the two of you forged was strong enough to pull you out of your room and into his arms before the plane took off.

the war between your head and your heart ended in a stalemate. you were fighting against something that you knew in your heart you wanted. your brain couldn’t make any more excuses to go against it when jungkook laid his heart out on the floor for you. you’d already made your decision before you went to sleep— before you even left jungkook’s grasp. but you were one for the dramatics.

the sound of the plane landing woke you, you were afraid you were too late. thinking that you slept in during a moment that could decide the rest of your life, you ran. bare feet smacking against the cold floor of the castle, before you eventually made it out to the garden and then the royal runway.

the sound of your voice that morning set it in stone. that jungkook will never love another the way he does you.

“jungkook!” you called out.

he was just about to board the plane for fenutar, jungkook and his advisors huddled into a circle to talk about customs and special etiquette since it’s been a while since he’s last visited. your shout interrupted the conversation. jungkook turned around immediately at the familiar voice.

the sight of you running through the cold, wet grass in your sleep wear with a winter coat and no shoes on. it makes his heart swell, with both love and worry. more so worry. “princess? what are you doing out here?! it’s freezing and you’re not even wearing the right clothes—”

you cut him off as you crash into his body for a tight hug. it felt right, it always did. “am i too late?” you ask, face snuggled into his warm chest.

he shakes his head, a little laugh accompanying the words. “you’re just in time.”

now, jungkook and you lay in your bed, staring up at the ceiling together. since seven in the morning, the two of you have just been talking about everything and nothing. mostly just appreciating each others presence. time passed quickly and it was almost time for everyone to start getting ready for breakfast. “so... how should we tell everyone? over breakfast?” you asked, pulling yourself on his chest and resting your cheek against his ribs.

he smiles at you. “sure, i heard they’re serving waffles, donuts— you know, sweet stuff.”

“and wouldn’t our news be so sweet?” you grinned. he laughs and you can feel his chest rise and fall under your head, the sound of his laughter just up against your ear. “should we go now?”

you move to get up, but jungkook stops you, placing a hand on your waist. “let’s stay here for a little bit longer.” he suggests, moving his hand up to run through your hair. “aren’t you tired from your dramatic show of affection this morning?” laughing as his fingers card through the strands of your hair. he combats your glare with a tender massage to your scalp. remembering how you’d always fall asleep whenever he did, and it worked. your eyelids fell and you melt against jungkook as he continues to rub your scalp gently.

love wasn’t scary. times like this, when it’s just you and jungkook; no expectations, no titles, no responsibilities. it’s just love. it wasn’t terrifying, it’s not painful. well, maybe it is sometimes. like how your heart beats out of your chest whenever jungkook looks at you, eyes glistening with admiration. like when you smile at jungkook and he feels like he could burst at any second just from the sight of you. love is hard to explain. love is whatever you make it out to be. and right now, love is in the curve of jungkook’s lips when he smiles at you. love is in the palm of your hand when you reach out to hold him.

the sound of the knocks on the door doesn’t register until the second round of taps. “princess, it is time for breakfast.” you hear from behind the door.

you sit up. “i’ll be right out!” trying to get out of bed but jungkook pulls you back.

“uh-uh,” he tsks. “you’re not dressed.” you furrow your eyebrows before you look down at what you’re wearing. a slip dress, the one you wore to sleep to be specific. “i won’t look, don’t worry.” he laughs, scooting himself up on your bed and covering his face with one of your pillows. he ignores how nice it smells, just like that shampoo he really likes. you bought it back in the city, raemor doesn’t have shampoos that smell like this.

he hears you rustle around in your closet before he hears a faint zip. “wait— jungkook, how does this look?”

the pillow is pulled away from his face and his eyes lay on you. with a colorful sundress draped on your body. it flows and compliments your skin beautifully. you’re beautiful. god, you’re gorgeous. asking jungkook for his opinion wouldn’t help, he’s biased. you’re pretty in his eyes no matter what you wear. “that— yeah, it’s— you look great.” he stumbles over his words.

“cat’s got your tongue?” you tease. in retaliation, jungkook ruffles up your hair a bit, making you groan and spend another five minutes in front of the mirror to fix it. meanwhile, jungkook pulls himself off the bed and straightens his outfit out, opting to leave his jacket off since it was toasty in the castle. he still looks proper and handsome with his white button up and dress pants on. for the last touch, you dig through your jewelry box, knowing that it has to be somewhere in there.

then there it was, at the bottom, tangled with a necklace from your mother, was the friendship bracelet jungkook gave you when you were twelve at the lantern festival. a dainty gold chain with a flower embellishment on it, signifying the promise the two of you made. he watches from afar when you put it on, trying to hide his surprise. “you still have it?”

you nod, “you don’t?”

“i do.” he assures. “i just didn’t think you’d remember it after all this time.”

you scoff playfully, walking towards him. “of course i remember,” linking your arm with his. “i remember everything.”

with that, the two of you step out of your room and down to the dining hall. they were expecting you, but not jungkook. the shock on everyone’s faces was evident. your parents, clementine, your ladies, venus, even blue. it was a good surprise though. both of your parents had to hide their big smiles behind their napkins. the staff kindly added another chair next to you for jungkook to sit down in. no one spoke up about it, if they wanted to ask, they kept their mouths shut. the two of you enjoy a delicious breakfast without any interference from any of the advisors.

but someone had to say it, and you were happy that it was going to be you.

you let out a cough before standing up, holding a glass of water and clinking your knife against it gently to grab everyone's attention. it only took a few seconds for all eyes to land on you. “jungkook and i have come to the conclusion that we will marry.” you announce.

the hall is overjoyed. cheers coming from your parents, smiles being sent your way from blue and your ladies. even the advisors, the most stern and inexpressive people you know (except for venus) crack a little smile at the news. “but—” you begin. silence quickly takes over the room. “only on jungkook and i’s terms.”

there is a bit of confusion amongst the crowd. so clementine is quick to ask, “and what are those terms, your highness?”

one. “jungkook and i will wed next year, when spring begins.”

two. “both of us will plan the wedding, with help of others, but the main parts will be orchestrated by the two of us.”

three. “there will be no talk of an heir until we are ready.”

“deal!” both yours and jungkook’s parents say as soon as you’re done talking.

“then it is settled! prince jungkook and princess ___ will wed next spring!” clementine announces to the hall and cheers erupt through the room once more.

jungkook stands and gives you a tight hug. the moment is all too perfect, the joyous chatter of everyone around you and the warm embrace of the one you love wrapped around you. it’s something you’ve dreamed of. “i won’t let you down, princess.” he promises you, in your ear, only for you to hear.

“i’ll be the best husband this world has ever seen.”

a good husband has to be honest.

jungkook has something to tell you, and he isn’t sure how to word it. he’s scared you’ll be turned off by it. it is a pretty serious topic, so he needs to say it, or else he would feel the guilt start to build in his stomach. then before he knows it, it’ll spill all out. so it’s better to nip the bud. get it done before it becomes a bigger problem.

the two of you were having a sleepover tonight. it’s the first one you guys had since you’ve been back. jungkook brought all the fancy snacks that his mother packed along with some drinks, while you had your contraband: face masks and matching pajamas for the both of you.

he looks funny with his peel off mask drying on his face. you told him not to make any facial expressions or else it wouldn’t work. jungkook’s been pulling a straight face for ten minutes while watching elle woods destroy chutney in the courtroom.

he couldn’t have chosen a worse time to speak up about it, but it’s been eating at him for long enough. “i have to tell you something.” he says out of nowhere. you look at him, trying not to react with your face. his serious tone makes you want to burst out into laughter, it was just so out of place.

but he looks somber, like how he looks when something’s bothering him. you swallow the urge to laugh and just nod. “you can tell me while i peel this mask off your face, deal?” you ask, moving closer and picking at the edge of the mask.

you wait patiently until he spills whatever he needs to say, but he looks a little distracted by the feeling of the face mask being peeled off. he’s already nervous, he tells himself not to get side tracked. so he just spits it out. “i’m not a virgin.”

well. that was one way to start a conversation.

you try not to show your shock, but your eyebrows were already raised and now your facemask is stuck to itself. “oh— oh my god, jungkook,” you laugh, covering your mouth. “do you want a high-five or something?” you can’t hold back the laughter anymore. you raise your hand up and wait for him to reciprocate.

if you were being honest, it did make you a little jealous. you wondered who he lost it to. it was probably jieun. did he love her? enough to want to lose his virtue to her? while the questions run through your mind, he returns the high-five, taking you out of the downward spiral of queries. you weren’t angry at him. there wasn’t an agreement between the two of you that you’d take each other’s virginities. jealousy is unforgiving, because you knew there was no reason to be mad but you still felt the stupid pang in your heart.

you finish taking his mask off, expertly in one piece. jungkook waits for you as you throw it in the trash. he’s still silent, not really knowing what else to say. he was waiting for an argument, in all honesty. but you’re smiling, seemingly unaffected by his confession. “do you wanna help me take off mine?” you ask him, sitting back on the bed, facing him.

he nods, picking at the edge and trying to do exactly what you did. “you’re not upset?” he asks, pulling the mask off of your face. maybe you were, but you weren’t going to tell him. it’s in the past, what matters is now, and he’s here with you now. you couldn’t be too mad.

maybe you should be honest too. you shake your head, “of course not, i’m not a virgin either.” this conversation only proves that there was no need to hide when it came to jungkook. you admired him for speaking up about it first too, even though you aren’t exactly sure why.

jungkook successfully took your mask off in one piece as well, discarding it into the trash can. you tell him that the two of you have to wash your faces to get the tiny pieces off and he follows you into the bathroom. responding with a, “really?” and a raise of his eyebrows.

you turn the water on and splash him a little bit. “are you trying to say i’m too ugly to get laid, jeon?!” you glare.

jungkook backtracks, “no— no! you’re pretty— really pretty— i just— i didn’t know what to say.”

you roll your eyes playfully. rinsing your face with water and making sure your face is entirely clean from the mask before stepping aside and drying your face off, allowing jungkook to have his turn. “who’d you lose it to?” you asked. despite probably already knowing the answer, you just had to make sure.

“uh—” he starts, looking at you through the mirror. his eyes flicker back down to the stream of water when he answers, “jieun.”

of course. you let out a little laugh, stepping closer and nudging his side with your elbow. “congratulations, dude.” at least he told you, at least he was honest. that’s all that matters. jealousy can play it’s part later. after the sleepover.

“what about you?” jungkook asks when he finishes drying his face off. he wants to know, but at the same time he doesn’t. curiosity gets the best of everyone.

“my ex-boyfriend,” you answer nonchalantly. “min yoongi.”

“boyfriend…” he exaggerates. pursing his lips and nodding, the same jealousy you felt earlier coursing through his veins now. “that’s nice— congratulations.” he says, copying what you said. an awkward silence comes between the two of you, in turn, making the two of you laugh out loud. clutching your stomach type of laugh.

“why did you bring it up in the first place?” you question. curious as to why he would need to speak up about his sexual past.

“well, i just wanted to tell you because— i don’t know— when it happened, you were the first one i wanted to tell, and i know it’s too much information but we always talked about stuff like this— like remember when you told me when you got your first period?” he begins to ramble again. a cute habit of his.

you cringe at the mention, but you remember it so well. jungkook was so worried for you, he did all the research he could on menstrual cycles; asked his parents about it, looked online, asked his advisors, and even the doctors that come around the palace for check-ups. with all the advice he got, he showed up in front of your door with a big basket of your favorite sweets, literally every menstrual product ever produced (he wasn’t sure which one you used so he brought all), and other random things like flowers, just to be extra nice. you ended up crying in his arms because of how lovely the gesture was. it showed what kind of person jungkook was. meticulous, caring, and just so sweet.

“you’re right.” the trip down memory lane was delightful, as it always is whenever it comes to him. “but what… about us?” you asked. the question seemed random, but whenever you travel down memory lane with jungkook, you’re always reminded of the feelings that you had and still do have for jungkook. being on this topic makes you wonder: did he bring this up because he wants to have sex and wants to be transparent about how many partners he’s had?

“what do you mean? what about us?” he asks. his eyebrows are furrowed and you can tell he doesn’t understand.

the question shouldn’t have made you hesitate the way you did, but now you’re trying to find the words to backtrack. “i— um,” your smile fades a little. expecting you and jungkook to jump into a relationship was unrealistic, let alone having sex. “nothing.” you shake your head.

jungkook can somehow read your mind. he probably just picked up on context clues. “if you’re thinking about— you know— us, having sex,” he starts. “we don’t have to do anything of that sort, if you don’t want to.”

the thought is something that’s lingered in your mind for a while. same for jungkook. but neither of you will admit that. so the conversation comes to an awkward halt. you blush. “right! yeah— sure, of course.” you nod. every synonym of ‘okay’ leaves your mouth. it makes jungkook laugh, starting a domino effect and making you laugh. soon enough, the conversation was pushed aside and the two of you focused on whatever movie netflix decided to autoplay. it wasn’t long before the buzz of the tv lulled the two of you to sleep.

“jungkook! save me!” you shout from the doors of his palace, spotting him talking to his father in the foyer. you just ran from your castle to his in hopes to outrun your chaser. jungkook’s head turns at the sound of your voice, your figure coming closer and closer.

“what? what is it?” quickly placing the papers in his hand onto the table, he rushes towards you. his face was riddled with worry as he watched you run towards him.

taking you into his arms, you hold him tightly. “venus won’t stop asking me what color the table cloths for the guests should be— please… spare me, my prince.” you fake sob into his chest.

he lets out a relieved laugh, the stress lifting away when he realized that you were just being bombarded with wedding questions again. “shouldn’t they be white?” he asks.

you look up at him in his embrace, chin against his chest, near his throat. “that’s what i said! then she started asking about the details of the cloth— like if we wanted it to be a certain type of thread, if we wanted a different colored detail woven through it— i just— why does it matter?!”

“it matters because it’s going to be the wedding of the century! now tell me, ___, white with gold detail or—” venus finally finds you after asking the guards where you went. she approaches you hurriedly and tries to shove the samples in your face, but you hide in jungkook’s chest, refusing to look at them.

“the gold detail is beautiful, venus, thank you.” jungkook answers for you. you relax against him once again. venus looks satisfied, putting her cloth samples back into her bag and walking away. with venus finally out of your hair, jungkook rubs your back gently. “wanna stay the night?” jungkook asks in your ear.

“depends.” you act like you think about it. pulling away from his embrace, looking at him with a playful glare. “do they still make those strawberry tarts i used to love?”

jungkook smiles. “i’ll ask them to bake you some right now.”

“deal.” you pinch his cheek. “hello, your majesty!” you greet his dad when you turn around. jungkook moves over to the side and tells one of his assistants to ask the kitchen to make your strawberry tarts.

jungkook’s dad gives you a bright smile. “good evening, princess.” even bowing slightly.

“you know you don’t need to do that, papa, it’s just me.” you smiled, giving him a curtsy back for the courtesy

“yes, yes, i know.” he laughs. “i’m just so glad to see you home.” opening his arms for a hug. which you move for immediately, hugging him tightly.

jungkook’s parents were always amazing to you. never making you feel unwelcome or uncomfortable. “i missed you as well, you and mama jeon always make me feel at home whenever i’m here.” you express your gratitude to him.

he holds one of your hands in his. “it is your second home, ___.”

“thank you,” you grinned. when you look down, his hands are holding an entire stack of papers. it must be something important, you excuse yourself so that they could finish their business. “i’ll see you later, papa! jungkook! i’ll be in your room!”

jungkook only gives you a thumbs up as he takes his place back next to his dad. the two of them watch as you skip your way up the stairs. your figure receding as you make it to his room when jungkook’s dad speaks up once more. “she is something else, son.” patting his back with a light laugh.

jungkook laughs too. a big smile on his face when he says, “in the best way possible.”

“agreed.” he replicates the same smile that’s on his son’s face. “i’m happy for you.”

when he looks down, his father holds out the papers to verify the marriage arrangement for him to sign. your family had already signed and his parents did too, a while ago. jungkook told them that he’ll only sign after you did. then, just after breakfast when the two of you announced your agreement to the arrangement, you signed happily. it’s a little late because jungkook’s been super busy, but now, with excitement in his heart for your future together, he scribbles his signature on the line. “thanks, dad.” he says as he hands the papers back to him.

they settle the rest of their business and finish signing some more papers. after about ten minutes, jungkook is finished with all the reading and signatures. he makes his way to the kitchen and the chefs hand him a platter of strawberry tarts on the cutest serving plate. white with little red hearts that match the strawberries. a detail that jungkook knows you’ll appreciate.

with two waters in his hand and the tarts in the other, he makes his way up the stairs. hilariously, a problem arises when jungkook needs to open the door to his room. he doesn’t wanna put the stuff down and he figures that you probably can’t hear him if he knocks because the volume of the tv is leaking through the door. in the corner of his eye, jungkook can see a guard crossing the hallway. “psst!” he calls out, hoping to get his attention. the guard passes by without a second thought. a few seconds pass and he can hear the guard take a couple steps back.

soon enough, the guard pops his head into the hallway. “everything alright, your highness?” he asks.

“yes, but— do you mind opening the door for me?” he laughs awkwardly. the guard nods and rushes over, turning the knob and sliding the door open. “thanks, man, have a good night.” he smiles at the guard.

“of course— you too, your highness.” he bows before leaving him be.

when he enters the room, you’re nowhere to be seen. the tv is on and playing some scary movie from what he can tell, the background music is eerie and quite frankly creeping him out. he sets down the waters first onto his bedside table and you come out of his bathroom at the perfect time. “there you are.” he sighs. “how are you just going to play a scary movie and then make me come into an empty room?!” he cries.

you roll your eyes playfully. “my apologies, prince, i didn’t hear you come in!” sporting a hoodie and a pair of boxers stolen from jungkook’s closet, you jump into his bed and eye the beautifully plated tarts in his grasp.

jungkook tries not to get distracted by the way you look right now. so cute in his clothes. he wonders if you caught the way that he looked you up and down. when he realizes that you’ve been staring at the tarts, he refocuses and picks up one of the pastries, holding it close to your mouth “your tarts, your majesty.” when you open to take a bite, he snatches it back quickly and takes a bite himself. his face contorted in pleasure, the treat was perfect amounts sweet and sour.

“jungkook,” you deadpanned. your straight face breaks into laughter not even a second later when he holds the bitten pastry back up to your mouth. “you literally ate half of it!”

“then eat the rest of it!” he shoots back with a laugh. you roll your eyes, taking the rest of the pastry into your mouth. in turn, your lips slightly graze against his fingers. it wasn’t helping that your eyes were looking directly into jungkook’s. it was quite obvious that there was some tension here.

neither of you knew how to address moments like this.

most of the time the two of you just act like it never happened. but they’ve just been happening a little too often these days. like that one time you and jungkook almost kissed after he helped you put on a necklace. that time you and jungkook were hiding from blue; he held his hand over your mouth and the other arm tightly around your waist so you wouldn’t move or make a noise. then now, your sex eyes peering directly into his as your lips graze his fingers. yeah… it was a hard thing to talk about.

jungkook is just as confused as you when it comes to whatever the two of you were. just best friends? engaged but friends? dating? no, that wouldn’t be right. jungkook should ask you to be his girlfriend, er— fiancee, right? just because the two of you are arranged to be married doesn’t mean the two of you go from best friends to a pair of lovers just like that, even with requited feelings.

communication wasn’t a hard thing for the two of you. being best friends for twenty years does that to you. fights, the silent treatment, and even that one period of time where you swore that you’d never talk to jungkook ever again; you guys have been through it all.

it’s just that— neither of you really know how to go about it. this conversation was awkward. maybe it’s just not time to talk about it yet, jungkook thought. you were so busy these days. your advisors would pull you away from him before he even got a word in.

then when you two do get the time to spend with each other, the both of you are usually exhausted from the days you’ve had. even though the wedding was an entire year away, there was way more planning than either of you expected. everyone wants it to be perfect. which is nice in hindsight, but it does get annoying sometimes. like how venus was hounding you earlier for the choice of table cloths.

so the two of you just ignore it for now. maybe when it becomes more of a problem, you’ll talk about it with each other. but for now, it’s just something neither of you are ready to face. you chew and swallow the rest of the tart while jungkook moves into the bathroom to get ready for bed. giving the both of you enough time to calm down and gather your thoughts.

when he comes back out, you’ve eaten at least three more strawberry tarts and started a new movie. another scary one. jungkook doesn’t understand how you can watch these kinds of things before you go to sleep, it’s like you’re immune to nightmares or something.

but you weren’t immune to feeling tired. just before jungkook joins you in bed, you let out a yawn before stretching your limbs a little bit.

“tired?” jungkook asks, pulling the comforter over his legs.

you nod, “a little.”

he smiles. “it’s late,” he nods to the clock on his night stand. one in the morning. “sleep, you did a lot of work today.”

“i know,” you groan. “just one more bite.” trying to fit an entire strawberry tart into your mouth was a bad decision. the pastry crumbled into your throat and had you choking for a minute.

jungkook comes to the rescue with your glass of water and a hand rubbing circles against your back. “alright, alright.” he laughs. “no more tarts— go to sleep, princess.”

when you’ve come down from your coughing fit, you nod before you tell him that you’re going to call seungyeon and jimin. “let me just update them about the wedding planning— they’re gonna laugh about everything, i just know it!”

“it’s supposed to be a secret, princess.” jungkook shakes his head, watching as your hands pull out your phone at lightning speed.

“oh… really?” you pause, “i’ve been telling them everything since we’ve started.” jungkook only laughs. he could never be mad at that, why wouldn’t you wanna share something like this with your friends?

“just make sure your advisors don’t find out, okay?” he holds his pinky up for a classic promise, which you reciprocate.

the next fifteen minutes or so, jungkook acts like he isn’t listening to your conversation as he immerses himself into the storyline of this movie, it was interesting but not as interesting as the way you tell them about the wedding. you sound so excited, telling seungyeon that you’re gonna have to go dress shopping soon and that you want her to be there and everything. it makes jungkook smile. it’s more back and forth between the two of you, seungyeon saying of course she’ll be there and you saying that she better because you’re sending a jet to her. it was quite funny.

then seungyeon’s voice rings over the line, updating you about how jimin’s prepping for his big dance recital on saturday and how much they miss you.

you wish you could go to support him. jimin’s been dancing for as long as he’s lived. he’s so passionate about it and you admire him for it. he talked your ear off about how excited he was about this performance. that the crowd is going to be the biggest he’s ever performed for and how scouts will be in the audience. you wished you could go.

the way your voice shakes isn’t something you can hide very well. over the phone it may pass off as a breath you took too long to breathe in, but in person, jungkook can hear the way that your voice gives way to the tears building in your eyes. “tell him i wish him the best of luck.”

“of course,” she answers. “oh! and i was able to take some pictures when we went into the city, you remember all those hole-in-the-wall spots, right? turns out they’re great for photography!”

not long after, you received an email notification. containing the pictures that seungyeon took and they were beautiful. the city's night lights make everything look so cool, like a movie.

you miss the city. you miss your friends.

“they’re gorgeous,” you tell her. scrolling through picture after picture. seungyeon rambles more about a new restaurant they found that she hopes to bring you (and jungkook) to when they have the chance. jungkook could see the way that your energy changed. you’re sad now. he can feel it. he knows you miss the city. the way you slowly scroll through the pictures, longing to be there instead of having to look at a picture of it through a screen.

the gears in his head turn. a plan has already been set into motion for a date between the two of you. yugyeom, taehyung, and eunwoo have all been trying to pitch in, give him ideas as to where to go, what to do. but jungkook thinks he knows exactly what to do. he wanted to do this right.

so that next morning, jungkook makes an important phone call after retrieving the phone number from namjoon.

“hello, jimin? this is jungkook…”

it’s already been a week and a half since you and jungkook agreed to an arranged marriage. you’ve only been able to see him five out of the twelve days. busy was an understatement. venus said there is too much to do and that even a year isn’t enough time to get everything done. it seems like an exaggeration, in your opinion. sure, a wedding was a lot of work, but did you really need to be there to confirm everything?

maybe venus will let you have a break one of these days. you don’t suspect it to be anytime soon. today, you were told to wake up early (six in the morning type of early) and get dressed. no one told you exactly why, but you listened and once you were ready, made your way to the briefing room.

when you push the big doors open, venus eyes you suspiciously. “princess, what are you doing here? we are not wedding planning today.”

you furrow your eyebrows. “then what are we doing?”

“you are going on a plane, something about a political appearance.” she winks. walking your way and weaving her arm through yours to lead you out.

“already? mother said appearances weren’t for another month!” you groaned.

“sorry, princess.” she laughs. “your bags are being packed as we speak, just go freshen up and we’ll meet jungkook and blue at the royal runway.”

“got it.” you assure her. ah, such a good kid. venus thinks. you don’t even question the random political appearance and just accept it at face value. she knows you’ll be surprised. you don’t even suspect a thing!

after maybe ten minutes, you walk with venus down to the runway and meet up with the boys. jungkook seems a little nervous. he’s doing that thing where he shifts his weight on his feet. “you okay?” you ask him.

“yeah! yeah— why wouldn’t i be?” jungkook answers. a smile that’s way too bright is displayed on his face. you suspect it’s just nerves for the speech he’s probably gonna have to do.

“if you’re nervous, just remember i’ll be right there next to you, yeah?” you assure him. gently taking his hand into yours.

jungkook is suddenly reminded why he shouldn’t be so damn nervous. because it’s you. he gets to be with you. to marry you. of course, he wants it to be perfect, that’s why he keeps going over everything in his head, making sure he’s got everything down. but it’s you. his best friend. when he looks at you, his nerves are at ease. that burning feeling in his chest dies down and his throat no longer feels like closing in on itself.

he lets out a breath. “ready?”

you nod, “where are we going anyway? venus never told me.” stepping up into the aircraft and taking your seat, jungkook and blue follow suit.

“i think we’re going to gotia, right, blue?” jungkook answers, turning his head to namjoon. his face directly telling him to go along with it.

“yes, your highness, gotia.” namjoon smiles brightly.

your eyebrows knit together. they’re acting weird again. “alright…” you say, suspicious of them already. “wake me up when we’re there.”

apparently, you were exhausted. you slept through the entire plane ride and it was a fifteen hour plane ride. namjoon said you did this the last time too. only waking up to eat and talk briefly before falling asleep again. it was a great time for namjoon and jungkook to gather blackmail photos for themselves as your sleeping faces are unbeatable. even when you land, you don’t wake up. jungkook isn’t gonna be the one to wake you up, so he gently lifts you up, bridal style. you don’t even bother opening your eyes, you just cuddle into his further. jungkook was always so warm, and so strong. he carries you into a car and lets you continue sleeping there, with your head on his shoulder.

after about twenty minutes of traffic, you finally decide to open your eyes. suddenly conscious of the way that jungkook’s hand is intertwined with yours. you don’t mind, his hand felt nice in yours. with sleep-riddled eyes, you look outside the window to see city infrastructure; which is not very common in gotia. gotia is a green mountain country, known particularly for their abundance of livestock and green grass.

you give them the benefit of doubt, perhaps you guys were just going somewhere in gotia that you’ve never been before. so you ask, “where exactly in gotia are we going?”

jungkook smiles. a very mischievous smile. “you’ll see when we get there, princess, don’t worry.”

hm, suspicious. this time you sit up, the seat belt digging into your belly when you push forward to lean against the front seat. “blue, where are we going?” you ask your trusty body guard.

“i am just following directions, your highness.” he tells you with a tight grin.

you were already suspicious during the plane ride, and now since neither jungkook or namjoon want to tell you where you’re going; you’re starting to put the pieces together. they’re gonna make you play that game where blue drops you and jungkook off in a random location and the two of you have to figure out where to go from there. and from your own experience: it sucks! so you scoff. “you guys are kidnapping me! hand me my phone, i am calling my father.” holding your hand out with your palm facing up. both of them laugh, jungkook places his hand on yours instead of giving you your phone.

“just wait a little longer, princess.” jungkook tells you as he intertwines your fingers together.

another few minutes and you’re still unsure of where you are, the dark tint of the windows is only adding onto the difficulty to spot the exact location. blue stops abruptly and turns to the two of you, “i was told to let you off here.” he says. the street is empty, but somewhat familiar. you weren’t able to get another look before jungkook covered your eyes.

“it’s a surprise, close your eyes.” he says. out of habit, you close your eyes, giving your trust to jungkook. jungkook steps out of the car first and then the door to the left of you opens. you keep your eyes closed and scoot out of the car with jungkooks’ help. he helps you out and onto the ground where he leads you somewhere onto the sidewalk.

“can i open my eyes now?” you ask, still squeezing your eyes shut.

“in a sec,” jungkook promises. bringing you a little further, you can hear him open a door and feel him lead you inside. “you can open your eyes now, we have to go up some stairs first.” he tells you.

when you open your eyes, you’re in a staircase with carpeted floors and metal railings. it looks fancy. the two of you make it up the stairs and you still can’t tell where the hell you are before jungkook tells you to close your eyes again. he opens another door and leads you out, leading you through a curtain you can feel. now you can hear some noise, quiet bickers of a crowd of people. it had to be hundreds of people out there.

you hear jungkook sit down beside you before he speaks up once more, “okay, open.”

scared, you only open your right eye just a peek. from the image, there’s an entire crowd below you. you’re in a theater of some sort. no, wait— it’s not just some theater, it’s the theater. the one that jimin’s performing at! that’s when your eyes shoot open. you’re back in the city, with jungkook by your side, about to watch your best friends’ performance.

“no way.” you spoke quietly, facing jungkook. he only smiles at you, holding your hand in his. “did you really do this for me?” the two of you sat in the highest box seat, jimin called them ‘the rich people seats.’ no one can really see you from here and you had one of the best views; it was perfect.

it was just so thoughtful. he must have noticed how homesick you were feeling, how much you yearned to see your friends again. this is the best gift you could have ever received. you’re not even sure what to say, and jungkook understands. he doesn’t expect any thank you’s or a major display of affection. he’s just happy that you’re happy.

when the lights dim and the music begins to play, you can’t help but feel the tears start to build in your eyes. “thank you, jungkook, so much.” you pull yourself close to him, laying your head on his shoulder.

“of course, princess.” he tells you, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you in closer. “anything for you.”

with that, a tear falls and the curtains are drawn. revealing jimin standing in position with a beautiful dark forest background, performing his black swan routine. one of his longest and most physically intensive choreography he’s ever made. but it’s so damn gorgeous. he performs flawlessly and receives a standing ovation. you couldn’t have been any happier for him.

during the extended applause, jungkook stands up pulls you along, through another carpeted hallway. “wait— where are we going?” you ask him. his other hand holds a bouquet that literally came out of nowhere. “and where did you get those flowers?!”

“we’re gonna see jimin!” he tells you as he maneuvers through the never ending hallways. “oh, and i hid these— so you could give them to jimin.”

the two of you stop just before another door, you pull him back gently. “what? people are going to see us, jungkook, we aren’t allowed to be outside of the kingdom without proper guards.”

“no one will see us, i promise, jimin will meet us here in this room.” he tells you. the both of you peek through the door window, it was an empty practice room. the door on the other side of the room opens and it’s the cue that it’s safe to come in. “ready?” he asks, holding the flowers out for you to take.

you start crying again, it was immediate. jungkook wipes the tears away quickly, “don’t cry, princess.” he places a sweet kiss on your forehead before he hands you the bouquet and opens the door for you.

then there in the middle of the room stands your best friend. his arms open for a hug and you run into them. crying even harder when you realize that jimin is crying too, you can hear the way he sniffles. “why are you crying?! you did amazing!” you sob.

“because you’re here and everything went perfectly— it’s just overwhelming.” he admits, pulling back from the hug. the two of you laugh at your crying faces.

“congratulations, jimin.” you tell him, holding out the flowers for him.

“thank you, ___.” he accepts them with a smile, wiping his tears and turning his attention to jungkook, who stands at the door as a lookout. “jungkook—! oh crap, wait— should i call him majesty or highness or something?” jimin’s quickly tries to correct himself, asking you for advice.

you can only laugh and shake your head. “you can just call him jungkook.”

“i was called?” jungkook stands just behind you, with a smile on his face.

“yeah, man— come here.” jimin embraces him in a hug and jungkook doesn’t object it.

rubbing his back, jungkook congratulates him as well. “you’re incredibly talented, jimin.” he smiles when he pulls away. “it’s great to finally meet you in person.”

“thank—”

“jimin! it’s curtain call!” a lady barges into the practice room. she stands speechless for a second, her eyes darting straight to jungkook. “wait, is that prince jungkook?!” all of you are wide eyed. jimin’s mouth is silently telling you two to ‘run!’ before you knew it, she was pulling out her phone, trying to take a picture.

jimin is quick to block the camera as he shouts. “go! hurry!” the two of you rush out of the door you came from. you and jungkook bolt back to the car, blue is a little startled when you both jump in, breathless.

“everything alrig—“

“drive!” you demanded.

“shit— alright!” blue complies and steps on the gas, getting you out of the parking spot behind the theater and now onto the streets of the city.

now that everyone’s calmed down. you just realized that you, again, have no idea where you were going. “now where are we off to? it’s about eleven o’clock, right?”

“go with the plan, blue.” jungkook tells him. with the creepy wording, you begin to feel more suspicion around the two of them. what more surprises could there be?

the three of you spent another fifteen or so minutes of driving, and quite frankly you were tired of looking for little landmarks to pinpoint where you were. just as you were about to ask again, blue stops the car and looks at jungkook.

“okay, another surprise— close your eyes.” jungkook says. you can’t help but admit this is kind of fun. sure, you were annoying the hell out of the boys for the past fifteen minutes asking when you were gonna get there and where you were going. but they love you either way.

you keep your eyes squeezed shut as jungkook helps you out of the car and onto another sidewalk. “just a little further.” he says, leading you closer to whatever it was. just before he speaks again, you hear a little jingle. “okay, open.”

when your eyes finally adjust to the city lights, you recognize the building entirely too well. a place that you lived for five years. “is this— are we— no way!” you stutter, purely out of surprise. you were sure that you weren’t going to see this place for at least another decade.

you stand there speechless, just like how you did at jimin’s recital, for a good minute or so. jungkook has to wave his hand in front of your face to break you out of the trance.

“so, are you gonna show me your apartment or not?” jungkook grins, holding up your cutely decorated keychain. you squeal in excitement as he hands you the keys and you drag him into the building. it’s only been about a month and a half since you’ve last seen it, but it feels so nostalgic. it feels special. you suspect it’s because of the man whose hand you’re holding right now.

up the elevator and to the left, the apartment labeled with a silver plated 101 beckons you inside. soon enough, you’re pulling jungkook through the door and giving him a detailed tour of your shoe closet that is right there when you walk in.

as the two of you walk around, it’s cleaner than you remember. venus must have gotten people to tidy the place up after you left. just as you finish the very short tour of your apartment, you remember that you’d left some things from jimin and seungyeon in your room. “make yourself at home, my prince, i’ll just be in my room, collecting some things.” you excuse yourself and let jungkook look around some more.

if jungkook were honest, he would have told you that he got a bit of whiplash from your tour. he was turning every two seconds because you were speaking so fast. you were just so excited, and jungkook couldn’t have been happier. everything was going exactly as planned. the clock was ticking and jungkook did have a schedule to be on, but there was nothing wrong with a little snooping around your apartment. he wanted to see the place that you called home for the past five years.

your couch looks cozy, blankets on one side with decorative pillows to adorn the piece of furniture. your coffee table is cute too. you’ve got good taste. everything just seems so you. so when jungkook turns toward the bookcase you mentioned earlier into your tour. it was crowded with books, photo albums, cd’s, and records. a specific photo album catches his eyes, a cute light blue album. on the spine it was labeled: ‘jjk’ and from what jungkook knows, it must be his initials.

it’s when he opens it is when he confirms. the album is full of pictures of the two of you when you were kids, at every festival, from infant to teens. flipping through the pages, both of your smiles never changed. over the years; in both of your eyes, the certain glimmer of love shines so brightly. he puts it back with a soft smile after he’s flipped through all the pages. another book catches his eyes, your favorite fairy tale story: hansel and gretel. while everyone made fun of your choice of story, jungkook thought it was cool. you were all about safety and stranger danger, therefore making hansel and gretel a good story for kids to read (in your opinion.) you always read it when you needed to make an important decision, you called it a comfort read. it helped you get into the right mindset, think about all the pros and especially the cons of the decision you were about to make.

jungkook was only going to look at it and flip through the pages mindlessly. but when he pulls it out of its place in the bookshelf, two envelopes fall out from between the pages. squatting down, he picks up the fallen pieces of paper and coincidentally, sees his name on one of the letters. the other is blank, just a plain envelope. if it was addressed to him, then it means it was meant for him, therefore, he could read it… right?

jungkook,

if you are reading this, then that means i’ve already left for the city.

first, i wanted to apologize: for everything. for not telling you that i would leave sooner, for leaving you, for not telling you how i felt.

i was scared terrified that i would ruin our friendship if i ever told you, but now, since i don’t know if i’ll ever come back. i need to get this off my chest.

i’ve wanted to tell you this for the longest time.

jeon jungkook, i am in love with you.

i’m sorry this is how you had to find out, i’m sorry i didn’t have the courage to tell you in person.

but i love you, and i think i always will.

i hope you will be happy, whoever you marry. i hope they love you the way you deserve.

i hope to be at your wedding when i hear the news.

i’m sorry again.

sincerely,

___

easily, his eyes gloss over. you’ve loved him all along. he should have known. how could he have not known? thoughts run through his mind at hundreds of miles an hour; what would have happened if you did give this to him when you left. he probably would have gotten on the next plane out and searched the city to find you. probably would have done the exact same thing he did recently, beg you to give the two of you a chance. he shakes his head, sliding the letter back into its envelope. reading the other letters wouldn’t hurt, right?

of course not, he tells himself. he was always so nosy. the blank envelope held multiple pieces of paper. most of them were unfinished confessions to him, smudged black ink with multiple sentences crossed off. from what he can count, you wanted to confess to him at least five times now.

jungkook isn’t sure how he feels, he just knows how in love he is. this feeling of being surrounded by warmth, it’s enough to make a tear slip out. he can’t help but smile either. this is the boost of confidence he needed for tonight. he was so nervous before, that everything would go terribly wrong, but now he’s just so… content, so happy. he wanted to hug you, kiss you, everything. so he puts the envelopes back into the book, places it back into the shelf and makes his way to your room. your body hovers over your vanity, digging through your jewelry box.

“my princess.” jungkook pouts even though you can’t see him. coming from behind, he hugs you tightly and rests his head against yours. he tries to hide the way that his tears began to tear up. you look up from your tangle of necklaces, turning and taking him into your arms.

“are you crying?” the single tear that rolls down his cheek grabs your attention. your hand immediately coming up to wipe it away. “what’s wrong? do you hate my little apartment that much?” you let out a laugh.

he laughs too, shaking his head with a smile. “your little apartment is perfect— i love it actually, i love you.”

“aw,” you mumble against his chest. “i love you too, even though you’re acting super weird.” the two of you stand there, swaying in a hug for a little longer.

“am not.” he rests his chin atop your head.

“whatever you say.” you hum, pulling him towards your prized possession— your queen sized bed. the two of you plop on top, your fluffy comforter proving to be one of the best purchases you have ever made in your entire life. the two of you lay there in silence for a little bit, you almost fall asleep due to how warm jungkook is.

“as much as i would love to cuddle and take a nap in your bed, we’re on a tight schedule— c’mon.” jungkook says as he stands from your bed, pulling you up.

“a schedule?” you quirk an eyebrow. “what else are we gonna do in the city? our faces are plastered all over the internet, not to mention you’re the most-thirsted-after prince in the entire world.” you ask as he tugs you through the hallway and back into the living room.

“can you show me the roof?” jungkook asks. a sly smile on his face, while you’re still completely clueless.

“of course!” you squeal, excited to show him the amazing view of the city the roof of your building has. the two of you exit your apartment and you pull him up another two flights of stairs. “usually it’s kind of dirty, so don’t mind the mess.” you warn before opening the heavy door.

but when you push it open, the roof is…clean. it’s decorated too. it’s not the same as you last saw it. “huh— would you look at that?” jungkook steps out onto the roof first, with his hands on his hips as he looks back at you. “it looks pretty clean— and look! it’s set up for dinner...?” he acts surprised. his eyebrows raised as the two of you walk towards the dinner table. he pulls out the chair for you to sit down and you can’t help but let out a little laugh.

“so this was your plan.” you snort. dinner was in the shape of cups of ice cream. it was adorable. “ice cream for dinner?”

jungkook nods, handing you a tiny spoon for the ice cream. “your favorite.”

he did all of this for me. you realize the effort. he must have gone through meticulous planning and conspiring all of this in secret. he’s good. really good. god, you could kiss him.

the two of you sit there in the ambiance of the late city night, eating ice cream and having a small conversation. whenever the conversation paused, you could hear some music playing quietly in the back.

jungkook really did deserve the mantle of prince charming. king of romance. ruler of your heart.

“do you hear that?” jungkook asks, holding a hand out next to his ear. a familiar tune playing from wherever the music was. standing up, he extends his grasp for you to take. “a dance, princess?”

“you know i have two left feet.” you try to decline him, remembering how taehyung teased you about the way that you tripped over his feet when the two of you danced at your welcome home party. but jungkook doesn’t mind. he loves dancing with you, always has. he loves the way that your feet crash into his, how focused you get when you try not to get the moves wrong. he wanted to waltz with you everywhere, even if you stood on his feet the entire time.

“just follow me, alright?” he smiles. giving in, you take his hand and the two of you make your way to the middle of the rooftop. the night sky bearing witness to one of the most romantic things you’ve ever received. you feel his hand wrap around your waist, guiding you to step where he does.

“sparks, huh?” you smile, finally putting a title on the song playing. “kind of a sad song to dance to.” following his moves, dancing does seem a little easier with jungkook there.

“i thought it was perfect.” he states, leading you in for a twirl and then back into his arms. “it explains exactly how i feel about you.

“yeah?” you look up to him. even in this faint lighting, the abandoned flickering light bulbs that hang from strings all across the rooftop from an old tenant party, he still shines so bright.

he nods. the two of you silently sway for another few beats of the song. you lay your head against his chest, the beat of his heart is as calming as the music in the back. maybe if you just leave your eyes closed, this moment could last forever.

meanwhile, jungkook is trying to amp himself up to get these words out. another confession and an important question sits heavy on his tongue. he knows you feel the same, knows that you’ll accept, but he’s still so nervous. what if you don’t say yes and he’s left there with his knee against the rough concrete floor? what if this was just too cheesy for you and you hate it?

jungkook tells himself there’s only one way to find out.

“i— can i tell you something?” he asks. you lift your head away and look in his eyes, they greet you with that sweet eye smile that hasn’t changed in all the days you’ve known him.

“of course.” you pull yourself back, holding his hands.

“when you were gone...i was always afraid that i was romanticizing you— i had nothing but our memories and the small talks we would have sometimes through our parents,” he admits. “i was scared that i was in love with the idea of you, and not… you— you know?”

his confession makes you stop in your tracks, clear disbelief on your face as you drop his hands from your grasp. “what?! jungkook— why are you telling me this now?” you groan, folding your arms over your chest. you move to grab your phone to find a way to reverse this. “you know what— it’s not too late to cancel the engagement and call up the king of fenutar— i’m sure they’ll forgive you— yeah, let’s give them a call—”

he pulls you back gently, “princess, relax.” he laughs. “i was just getting started.”

your gaze softens, letting him finish his point as he restarts the sway. your feet move with his, slowly to the beat of the song playing in the back. it’s changed to something calmer, from what you could hear, it sounds like cigarettes after sex.

“this past month, ever since you came back—” he starts up once more. you attention falling back onto him instead of the music in the back. “i don’t know what it is, but i think i was wrong.” he says. you gently furrow your eyebrows. confused as to what he means. jungkook brings his hand up to your face, cupping your jaw before raising his thumb to soothe the creases in your forehead.

relaxing your muscles under his touch, he lowers his hands back down to hold your hands. he says the next words, staring straight into your eyes. “i love you, i always want to be around you, i wonder if you are alright— if you’re sad, because i want to be there for you, i want to take care of you.” your hands are pulled close to him, enough for him to be able to gently press a kiss against your knuckles. “i want to be by your side, against foes seen and unseen.”

“so—“ he lets go of your hand to pull a tiny white box out from his pocket and gets on one knee. “will you marry me?”

the rough ground against his clothed knee doesn’t matter anymore when he sees the sweetest smile on your face. everything is perfect.

you let out a little laugh, your smile going from ear to ear. “yes! of course— yes, yes!” tears collect in your eyes quickly. holding your arms out for him, jungkook comes up and collects your embrace. a tear slips out and he can hear your sniffle. gently, he wipes the tear away, and the two of you stare at each other just long enough. long enough to understand that this was the time.

you both lean forward and finally, let your lips connect. a kiss seals the fate of both hearts involved.

dreaming of this moment ever since you were fifteen has given you quite high expectations for it, but jungkook always exceeds expectations. even when you think he couldn’t be anymore perfect, he always has something up his sleeve. it shows in the way his kiss is gentle, but so passionate. transferring his love to you in the most efficient way possible.

jungkook is in dreamland almost. wonders if this is what being on drugs is like. pure euphoria. knows that this is what love stories are based off of. pure adoration. fears what he’ll do if he won’t be able to kiss you. the beginning of an addiction. your lips, they take him prisoner.

slowly, the two of you pull away and stare at each other like love sick puppies. jungkook holds your face in his hand as you lean into his grasp. the sound of confetti poppers startle you, flinching at the noise before looking to see what happened. through the rain of confetti, you can see all of them. seungyeon, jimin, blue, taehyung, eunwoo, and yugyeom. you didn’t think it could get any better. you were so happy.

“congratulations, your majesties.” blue moves forward after the confetti settles and hands the two of you a purple rose. the national flower of raemor and it was a common tradition to give engaged couples raemors for good luck all throughout their relationship and marriage. you thank blue with a hug and so does jungkook. jimin and seungyeon also congratulate you, seungyeon pulls out her camera and shows you the pictures she took while she was hidden with everyone behind the huge skylights.

eunwoo takes hold of your hand gently, raising the ring up for everyone to see. jimin and seungyeon also come close to get a better look, holding your arm still. “that rock is adorable, jungkook.” he pats him on the back. making slight fun of the stones size. everyone in the kingdom was used to huge gems, rings that would weigh down the finger of the wearer. you give eunwoo a light shove.

the ring was your style. it was actually really thoughtful too. there were conversations where you and jungkook would gossip about the adults sometimes, you knew everything back then. who was cheating on who, whose wives knew about the mistress, whose husbands knew about the paramour. then most of the time, they would solve it through money. buying bigger, more expensive material things to woo them, to make them forget the betrayals. you hated it. you specifically remember telling jungkook that you’d rather have a small ring and a great love, instead of a big ring and a loveless marriage.

so when you stare at the pretty gem laid on your ring finger, you realize it’s just more evidence that jungkook listens, and he takes your words into account. you couldn’t have been happier with the piece of jewelry. “i think it’s beautiful.” you pout in defense of the ring.

“it’s a red diamond.” namjoon tells them. “one of the rarest diamonds in the world.”

“how much is it?” yugyeom peers at the ring as well, he likes the way it sparkles even without the light.

“it doesn’t matter!” you groan, looking at jungkook for some help as four different people have your hand in their grasp.

“the diamond itself is roughly about five million— the rest of the ring, i can’t say.” namjoon shrugs nonchalantly.

jimin and seungyeon gasp at the same time, same pitch. both yugyeom and eunwoo’s eyes almost bulge out of their sockets. “sorry man— i thought it was a ruby.” eunwoo scratches the back of his head. jungkook only laughs at the conversation, not taking any of it to heart, along with taehyung (and chaeyoung!) who helped him customize the ring in the first place.

“five million?! are you serious?” you turn to him, about to scold him for wasting his money. just for an engagement ring too?!

he catches your hand before you can shove him like you did eunwoo. he brings it to his mouth, kissing your ring finger gently. before coming close to your ear, he whispers, “it’s worth way more than five million.”

“jungkook!”

taglist: @kookxin @fan-ati--c

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preciousthingsareprecious · 3 years

Text

Hearts Painted on Skin

Written for @damianwayneweek's Day 4. I selected Soulmates for this. I've never written a soulmate AU before, so this was fun to explore. Thanks @audreycritter for the idea! She flooded me with ideas for this week and I am so thankful for them all.

Characters: Damian and Dick

Summary: Damian has a mark just under his collarbone in the shape of a feather. Mother has always told him it was a scar. He was mostly okay with that until he came to Gotham and saw more marks. Marks that could not possibly be scars. He is starting to wonder if she lied, and why.

AO3 Link

Damian looked in the mirror, his shirt in his hands, prepared to pull on. For what felt like the thousandth time, he paused to look at the little mark on his skin. It was a feather, unmistakably. Damian had held enough up to it for comparison, whenever he could get his hands on one.

“It is a scar.” Mother’s voice echoed in his head.

It was a statement she’d told him time and time again. Each moment he brought it up. Every moment he looked at a League member who had a darker patch on their cheek, or wrist. Whenever his eyes lingered on flowers and swirls and shapes painted on fingers, arms, feet, and one time an eyelid. She would lean down, her voice soft, promising, full of truth, hard as law, and whisper those four words. It. Is. A. Scar.

“But others have similar.” Damian had asked once.

“Of course they do, they are fighters as well.” she had told him.

Damian believed her. Why would she lie? What reason had she to speak falsely about such a thing?

And yet.

He dropped half of the shirt to run his fingers over it, it was smooth as the skin underneath. It was skin, just of a darker color. A warm chocolate to his tan. It was not raised, not pinched. Nothing about it was creased or seemed to be anything but natural. As if it had always been there.

“But I do not remember getting it.” he had said again, in response to her once.

“You received it when you were young. A baby.”

He had furrowed his brow. Who would harm a baby? Even in the League? Especially Talia’s child? She’d never told him.

Damian tugged his shirt on, covering the spot with soft cotton and a bright pattern of animal silhouettes that somehow did not look childish. He ran his hand over the fabric, again pausing by the not-scar. His eyes flit to his dresser. In the drawer rested a bottle of concealer, matched to his skin tone exactly. It was empty now, used up and he had yet to replace it.

Normally, Damian would cover his not-scar with it. Careful layers blended to hide the fact that anything blemished his skin. It was a dangerous mark. Made when he was a baby, and carrying a weight on it that Mother insisted would draw catastrophe to him if it were seen.

He had complained about the concealer once, hating the time it took to apply and how it made his skin feel itchy sometimes.

Mother had run her fingers through his hair, gentle and loving, “I know, dear, but it is not safe to bring attention to. If others learned of it--you would be in danger.” She had even gone so far as to insist Damian not tell Grandfather.

It was a dangerous secret so terrifying the leader of the League of Assassins could not know. One Damian had to protect him from. At least, that was what Damian had thought then. Now, he wondered if Mother was protecting him from Grandfather.

He tugged on his shirt, testing the collar, even stretched it hid his mark with ease. No one would see it today. Perhaps his new concealer would arrive soon. Pennyworth had approved the order, as something useful to help them hide their identities better. Bruises from patrol were hard to explain, especially when Richard was under scrutiny for caring for him.

A knock immediately preceded, “Damian? You ready?”

Damian turned and nodded at Richard, “Yes, I believe I am.”

He looked over his brother, searching his skin for anything like Damian’s own mark, but beyond real scars, Richard was unblemished.

His brother, and guardian, smiled at him, “Great, let’s go! It’s a beautiful day and I promised you some ducks.”

Damian allowed a smile, “Yes you did.”

They spent the day at one of Gotham’s parks. Richard said they were doing recon to determine if Wayne Enterprise should fund a beautification project, but Damian was well aware his brother was using this as a day of relaxation. He was taking the day off work, and Damian had been excused from classwork for the outing.

He’d intended to take the recon seriously, by marking down elements both in favor of, and against selecting this park as the location for beautification funds. And for a little while Damian had. Then he’d flipped to a blank page in his notebook and started sketching the scene ahead of them.

Beside him, Richard lounged on their picnic blanket, reading what looked to be a romance book, and picking at grapes Pennyworth had packed for them. Normally, Damian would take the opportunity to berate him for laziness, but they had faced a number of difficult patrols over the past few nights and Damian was inclined to let him have his break.

Richard consistently drilled into him the importance of caring for one’s body all the time, mentally and physically. Damian knew this day would make Batman safer in the field, and also--he was kind of enjoying the quiet time. It was new to him, learning to relax and feel safe outside of the very few places he’d had at the League, but he could see the appeal to it. It did help keep him sharp, and he was always better rested after.

So he focused on on relaxing. He sketched for a while, drawing the pond first, and the trees around it. Then flipping the page to work on his figure drawing. As he drew, Damian’s eyes caught on marks. On birthmarks, and scars, and tattoos. Most importantly, his eyes locked onto various not-scars. Which is what they had to be.

He doodled them on another sheet. Drawing each unique one. Even those that were similar in style usually had little differences. A star might have one arm longer than the other, while one was perfect.

The only time he saw two of them match perfectly were on a couple pushing a stroller. The couple had little numbers on the back of their hands, one on their left, the other on the right. Damian pressed his lips together. They could have been tattoos, many people had them, but Damian couldn’t help but wonder.

He had been wondering since he’d arrived in Gotham months ago. People here all had marks. They had marks and they showed them off. Confused, Damian had messaged his mother to ask her. She’d said they were scars, tattoos, birthmarks that were meaningless. They were the marks of a different type of people than Damian had been raised around.

Distance had a way of stripping his mother’s voice of it’s old comforting truth.

But he had been busy learning. There was so much to learn in Gotham that had nothing to do with the mark on his body. Damian had spent more time frustrated about rules, and fearing he’d be sent back to a place that felt less and less like home every day. More and more time learning to be a good Robin to his Batman, and learning to trust Richard.

The question of his mark was rarely on Damian’s mind, and mostly relegated to moments he was alone or like this.

He glanced over at Richard. The man was still immersed in his book and Damian’s question died on his lips. He flipped his book to a new page and focused back on the pond, specifically the ducks swimming around on it. He had, after all, been promised some ducks.

That night they returned to patrol. Damian almost suggested they take a break, but they’d been working a drug trafficking case over the course of the week and were close to wrapping it up. If all went well during this patrol then they could rest. Damian would insist upon it if Richard did not.

They staked out an old appliance store. Richard figured the drugs were being shipped out either in the appliances or the crates. They just needed to intercept a shipment, incapacitate the team working on it, and confirm the drugs were there. Then they could call in Gordon and be done with all this.

Batman and Robin were crouched together. Richard had declared that they should stick close tonight. Damian wondered if it was because he knew they both were still feeling a little worn down. He could read it in Richard’s body language, and he knew his mentor could read the same in his.

After around twenty or so minutes, a truck pulled up to the building and the shipping door opened to allow it to back in. They watched for a moment, confirming no other trucks were on their way, and then both pulled back from the edge of the roof they’d been peering over.

Richard pointed to a large vent they could drop in on the store from. Damian nodded, and followed his mentor. The slipped into the vents, then moved like mice over to where the shipping area was located. Damian paused behind Richard as the man peered through an exhaust vent to watch the proceedings below.

“They’ve started unloading.” he whispered, then tapped something on his cowl and was silent for another long moment, “And they’re talking about the drugs.”

“So we go?” Damian asked.

“I’d say so.” Richard said, “Stick close tonight Robin, I’ve seen a couple guns swinging around and I don’t want to explain a bullet wound to Al tonight.”

“The same goes for you.” Damian responded.

“There’s twelve by my count, two of those are still in the car. Try to get to them first. I’ll grab the guys with the guns,” Richard directed.

“Affirmative.” Damian agreed. Taking out the ones that could remove the product, and the ones that were the most dangerous first was a good idea.

With that, Richard kicked out the vent, tossed a handful of gas pellets, and they dropped into the smoke.

Damian bolted through it for the truck. He was able to easily dodge the men and women in the room, now sent into a flurry of action and confusion over the smoke. He ducked around the driver’s seat of the truck and yanked the door open.

The man inside was shocked, and Damian was able to use that element of surprise to yank the man out of the front, sending him tumbling to the ground. A few quick blows had him unconscious.

Damian straightened, and turned back towards the truck cab. His eyes went wide, seeing the passenger leaning over both seats, a gun aimed out the door at him. Damian dodged to the side as the gun went off. Pain sliced through his arm as the bullet nicked him, but at least it hadn’t hit him in anything vital.

He swore, Richard had just told him not to get shot.

He snarled at the man, immediately returning fire with a batarang. It caught fingers, and the gun went tumbling to the floor of the cab. Damian then lurched forward, and dragged the passenger out of the car. Twisting his arm as he fell to drag it up behind his back.

In another movement, Damian grabbed the man’s other hand and yanked it behind his back, securing them both with a zip tie.

“Stay.” he growled into his ear, “Or you will regret it.”

He climbed up into the cab and jammed a pole under the steering wheel, locking it in place to keep it from moving if anyone tried to drive the truck.

With that, he turned back into the fray. At this point the smoke had begun to clear. Damian could see that Batman had knocked out a few men already, they were down to 8 enemies to fight. Richard’s warning to stay close was fresh in Damian’s mind, his throbbing arm a reminder that maybe his Batman had wanted him to not quite jump ahead like he had. But then again, Damian should have been able to handle two men in a truck.

He huffed, and fell into line beside Batman.

“Robin, you get the car under control?”

“It will not be going anywhere.” Damian confirmed.

“Good.” There was something tight in Richard’s voice Damian didn’t recognize, but there wasn’t time to explore the reason for that the other men and women were on them already.

Damian had to admit, he and Richard worked well as a team. They were efficient, and quick. Richard’s insistence on having them run drills and practice together before they’d ever gone out into the field had paid off early on, and since then they’d only built on that success.

They managed to take out the rest of the criminals quickly, and they prevented any of them from escaping. After that, Richard directed Damian to zip tie the unconscious thugs while he checked out the boxes of goods.

As Damian was finishing up with the last man, Richard called out, “Found them! I’m calling it in.”

“Good, I am finished here.”

They paired back up outside the building as Batman called the car to their location. Damian had his cape tugged over his arm in an attempt to hide the bleeding, but as they waited, a breeze caught him by surprise and tugged it up, and out of the way.

“Robin!” Batman said, “Why didn’t you tell me you’d been injured?”

Damian tugged his cape back in place, scowling, “You told me not to get shot.”

Then his eyes caught on Richard’s left arm, it too was visible and bleeding. Damian pointed at him, accusing.

“You as well! How could you not tell me you’d been injured?”

Richard opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again, “I-For the same reason as you. It happened right at the start.”

That must have been why Damian hadn’t heard it, they’d been shot at roughly the same time.

His brother shook his head, “Amazing, we both managed to do the one thing we didn’t want to. Alf’s going to have a field day with this one.”

When they returned to the bunker Alfred directed them both to a shared cot.

“Shirts off young masters, I’ll need to dress both of those wounds.”

Damian rolled his eyes and started tugging off his vest, then undershirt. It wasn’t until it was off that he remembered he still had not covered up his mark. Hopefully they would lump it in with the other scars across his chest.

It was not to be however. Next to him, Richard had stilled. He was staring at Damian’s chest. Damian could feel it, his eyes locked on the feather just under his collarbone.

He froze, his spine stiffening. He didn’t know what to say. His mother’s excuses felt like lies on his tongue and he knew he couldn’t give them to Richard. The man wouldn’t believe him for a moment.

Richard’s gaze was strangely soft. Not angry or upset or any of the things Damian had come to expect from what someone might do when they saw his not-scar. It made him want to squirm in his seat, but he was Damian al Ghul-Wayne. He did not squirm.

“Damian--” Richard’s voice was terribly soft, his eyes glittering, “I had no idea.”

Damian swallowed, there it was. The sadness that he had thought might come. It was dangerous. Seeing it put people in danger, and Richard had seen it, and Damian--Damian did not want him in any kind of danger.

He reached up to put his hand over the mark, and looked down, “I am sorry--I forgot. Had I remembered I hadn’t covered it I would not have--I would have dressed my arm on my own.”

“Do you not want me to see it?” Richard sounded hurt.

Damian looked back up at him, surprised. Richard sounded like he did when Damian was particularly cruel. He tried not to be that way sometimes, but--well pain or frustration drove him to saying things he regretted.

“I--Mother told me no one was allowed to.” He pressed his palm against it a little tighter.

“Why?” Now Richard sounded confused.

Damian was confused. Shouldn’t he know? The way Mother spoke of it had made Damian believe it to be something that anyone would recognize. A black mark.

“It is dangerous.” Damian said simply, “Just seeing it would put myself and others in danger.”

Richard’s brow was furrowed. Behind him, Alfred cleared his throat.

“Master Damian, might I ask, do you know of soul marks?”

“What?” Damian asked, looking up at him, “No, I have never heard of the term.”

Something twisted in his stomach. Sour and warm. He was certain now Mother had lied. He didn’t know why she had lied, but it was making him sick. The warmth was a kind of hope. An answer to the questions plaguing him since he’d arrived.

“A soul mark is a mark each of us are born with. It is to help us find the person most suited for us in the world. Some people never meet their soulmates, but find love all the same but others do and their marks always match.”

Damian remembered the couple he’d seen in the park, their matching hands.

“So then--this is one of those? Not a scar?”

He let his hand drop, fingers grazing the feather.

“I can confirm that it is indeed a soul mark.” Alfred said.

Damian frowned at him, “Have you seen its match?”

Alfred smiled at him. Richard cleared his throat and Damian returned his attention to him. Understanding now blooming, Richard had thought he’d keep something like a soul mark from him. Had believed Damian wouldn’t want him to know something so personal. He must apologize.

Before he could get the words out, Richard had tugged his own shirt off and there, under his collar bone and just above his heart was a feather. It was the feather. Damian’s feather. The one he had seen every day in the mirror. The one he’d traced a hundred times wondering about.

“Oh.” Damian said.

And then, “I don’t understand. I--we would not be romantically compatible?”

Richard snorted, “Soulmates don’t have to be romantically involved, Dames. It can be totally platonic. Often best friends will have matching marks, or a father and son. It just means--well it means we fit together in a special way. That we’ll always be precious to each other.”

Damian could have told Richard that, and it seemed his body had already done the work for him. Or fate? Damian felt he may get a headache if he tried to figure this out.

The point was, Richard was the most important person in his life. He just--he’d had no idea that it had been declared before he’d even met the man. Before he even knew that they would get to the point where they’d trust each other with their lives. It felt right. Instead of a declaration these marks were a promise.

Richard had chosen to love Damian with his whole heart before even knowing who Damian would be to him. And Damian? Well Damian had done the same.

“I hate to break up this moment, but you are both still bleeding.” Alfred said, “You may continue to talk but I really must begin caring for your wounds.”

Damian blushed, “Yes, of course.”

Instead of talking, they fell into silence, both Damian and Richard lost in their own thoughts. Soon, Alfred was finished, and had dismissed both of them.

Damian looked from Richard to the elevator that would return them to the penthouse and back, “I still have questions.” he said, not wanting to be sent to bed with his mind still racing.

“Me too.” Richard said, “How about some cocoa? We can talk upstairs.”

“That sounds nice.”

They moved up to the penthouse, and Damian sat at the bar, his hands pressed into the marble countertop of it. They’d both dressed in pajamas, but even with a shirt tugged over his soul mark --and how nice it was to have a real word for it-- he still felt exposed. Raw. Like there was something new and strange about him.

But nothing had happened with it. It was still there, still the same color and size. Still just a part of him that he’d always had.

“So.” Richard said, taking the seat next to him, and sliding a mug of steaming hot chocolate over, “You have questions?”

“As do you.” Damian said, taking the mug to hold between his palms, “Why don’t you ask yours first?”

His brother hummed, “I think yours will probably answer mine, but let’s start with something easy or maybe not easy, but, well what do you know about soulmates or marks?”

Damian nodded, “I--Mother never explained soulmates to me. I know the term only in a general sense. A phrase used not literally, but figuratively to describe two people romantically entwined. None of my teachers spoke of it, and no one at the League did either.”

He tapped his mug, “I was not blind, I saw the marks. But I believed them to be other things. Scars, birthmarks, or--well I did not have a word for what they were.” Damian could not look at Richard, it was silly. He should have asked more, pressed Mother for answers or done his own research, “It was not until I arrived in Gotham that I saw so many and began to wonder. Surely not everyone in the world could have gotten tattoos? But--not all were visible and so I did not ask.”

Richard was quiet, listening and taking in Damian’s words with rapt attention. He hadn’t even sipped his cocoa. Damian took a gulp of his, just to do something that wasn’t watching his brother.

“And yours?” Richard asked, “What did Talia tell you about it?”

“I--Mother told me mine was dangerous.” Damian pressed his fingers to his chest again, “I was not to talk about it or ask about it. It was supposed to be a scar, from an attack on me when I was a baby. But I always knew it was not. Still, she was insistent I not tell anyone or let others see. Especially Grandfather.”

Damian frowned, “I thought for a long while it was to protect him. That I was cursed.”

He looked up at Richard, into his brother’s eyes, and knew at last why Mother had been so insistent he stay silent, “But I was wrong. Mother was protecting me, and you. If Grandfather knew I had a soulmate, he would have hunted the world for them, and then used them against me.”

Damian did not think he could have stood having Richard in danger because of him. He hated the very thought that anything would happen to his brother. Especially because of him.

He sipped his drink again, “Mother used to rub her wrist. I saw a mark there once. A little bat. I never asked her about it, and she never offered to tell me--Richard? Do the marks have special meaning? Or are they obscure?”

“They do have a meaning, there’s a lot of meaning in their placement and look and well everything.”

“Teach me?”

His brother smiled, “Of course. I’d be happy to.”

They worked their way through their mugs, and second rounds while Richard spoke. He talked about how soul marks that were hidden usually meant that the relationship was more intimate, but not always. How marks mirrored each other, one on the left, one on the right so that the pair could be face to face and match, like looking in a mirror. How if one’s soulmate died the mark faded to be almost invisible or if their relationship broke and shattered how it would line with cracks.

“Just because someone has a soulmate doesn’t mean that things will work out perfectly. We are human after all.” Richard said.

Some people could be born without marks, and very rarely one would change, and shift to take on the form of another. Most often that happened if a soulmate had died, but sometimes it happened for other reasons.

“And the meaning?” Damian pressed, wanting to know, to understand why a feather? Why this mark on his skin and not something else?

His brother hummed, “There’s books and stuff out on their meanings, especially for marks of similar styles. But when it all comes down to it, the meaning really comes from the pair. Some people know instantly why a mark looks the way it does. A shared memory or love of something. Maybe it is the first line a lover traced across another’s wrist, or an idea that is important to them.”

He leaned forward, elbow on the bar’s counter, “Want to take a guess at ours?”

Damian furrowed his brow, “Robin?” he guessed, “or your previous title, Nightwing is indicative of a bird and flight?”

Richard nodded, “Those are good thoughts. I’ve always looked at it as a symbol of flying and of freedom. But feathers have other meanings too. Trust, loyalty, hope, a connection between the creature who had the feather and where it has gone now.”

“I like those.” Damian said, and then looked down at his mug, “You have given me many of those things.”

“And you’ve done the same for me.” Richard said, “We don’t need to name why it is a feather you know. We can feel the meaning here.” he pressed a palm to his heart, “and just know.”

Damian nodded, “I am glad I share it with you. And--I am glad I did not know before now.”

His brother frowned, then nodded, “I see, if you did, and we’d have seen each other’s marks, then you might have thought our relationship was because of the soul mark?”

“Is that silly?” he said, peering up.

“No. It’s a worry a lot of people have.” Richard reached out and took Damian’s free hand, “But soul marks don’t make relationships Damian. They just indicate potential, and while they are incredibly accurate in that indication, it’s up to us what we do with it.”

Damian squeezed Richard’s hand, “I see. We are--doing well?”

Richard laughed, “I’d say so. We had a rough start, but yes, Dames. I think we’re doing just fine.”

Damian smiled, “Excellent. Thank you for answering my questions.”

“Of course.” His brother stretched, “Now, it’s later than either of us should be up. We can chat more tomorrow.”

“Yes.” Damian said.

They got up, rinsed their cups and moved to the hall with the bedrooms. Damian paused, hesitating before he entered his own.

“I was planning to suggest we take the night off patrol, but our injuries have cemented that. Perhaps we can return to the park tomorrow?” he said.

Richard smiled, “Sounds like a plan.” In a motion he tugged Damian forward into a tight hug and pressed a kiss to his forehead, “Love you, kiddo.”

Damian returned the hug, “You as well.”

#damianwayneweek2021 #Damian Wayne #Dick Grayson #day 4 #soulmates #platonic soulmates #soul marks #fluff #canon typical violence #hurt/comfort #injury #precious posts #fanficiton

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angellesword · 3 years

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MAGIC SHOP | JJK (11)

Description: You and Jungkook were best friends who were in love with each other. What would happen when Soojin, your half sister who you’re trying to impress, told you she’s in love with Jungkook too?

Alternatively:

“Would you believe me if I said that I was scared of everything too?”

Pairing: Architect!Jungkook x Architect!Reader

Genre: childhood best friends to lovers, family drama, angst, fluff, idiots to lovers, pining, slice of life au.

Warnings: alcohol (OC is drunk) cursing, unhealthy way of grieving, violence (Sin-ae tried to physically hurt OC again.) the succession law discussed in this chapter doesn’t reflect South Korea’s existing laws. It’s a combination of my imagination and laws in the Philippines.

Chapter’s OST: Treacherous by Taylor Swift

Word Count: 3.2k

Series: CHAPTER 10 | CHAPTER 12

You had never seen Jungkook look so pissed before. When you were around, he was all smiles and heart eyes and this just showed how much he adored you; however, the look he was giving you right now was so dark that you had to look away.

'Because I'm damn jealous,' he said. Did he mean this? Didn't he hate you for dumping him? For giving up on him even though he asked—begged you to stay with him?

'But it's complicated.' You argued with yourself. You didn't want to make things difficult. He was promised to Soojin. Your sister said she was in love with Jungkook too. Who were you to stop them from being together?

Besides, you did it for the company and for your father.

Ah, your father...

You sacrificed things to make him happy, yet you still weren't given a chance to see him for the last time.

You cackled bitterly as you drank another shot of tequila. Your head spun and your throat burned. You didn't care though. You still continued drinking until your vision doubled and until you couldn't feel the intensity of Jungkook's glare anymore.

"Tiger..." But you felt him touch your elbow lightly to stop you from taking another shot of this alcoholic beverage.

You glared at him, prying your arm out of his grasp. Jungkook pursed his lips and let you go. His jaw ticked, thick brows furrowing.

"What do you want, Jungkook?" You hissed, a thought popping inside your mind: why did we lash out on the people we loved when we're frustrated or lonely?

You didn't want to push him away anymore, you also didn't want to lose him again, but your actions were the opposite of what you felt.

You were just so tired of losing people. It's better to push those who loved you and insist yourself to those who didn't love you.

"You're drunk," he sighed, putting his hands inside the pockets of his jeans. Jungkook wanted to touch you again but he was scared to upset you.

"I'm not." You replied incompletely: I'm not drunk. I'm grieving.

"Literally everyone who's drunk always denies they're drunk. Stop it—" He instantly snatched the shot glass from your hand when you tried to bring it to your lips.

"Hey!" You pouted as Jungkook downed the shot, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

"No more drinks for you." He smiled cheekily like he won.

Your lips protrude more. Did he think this was a game?

"Fine." You called the attention of the bartender. You would play too.

"Three more shots of tequila please..." You batted an eyelash at the bartender, unfortunately what you received in return was a tight smile.

The bartender offered to serve you a non-alcoholic beverage instead since it was obvious you're intoxicated. You couldn't handle more alcohol.

"But I want to!" You whined. It's a little out of character. You rarely insisted what you wanted. The environment where you grew up taught you to just accept things you couldn't have. It was like you didn't have the right to fight for what you wanted.

"Alright. That's it. Let's get you home." Jungkook interrupted when you attempted to grab the collar of the bartender's uniform.

Shit. Jungkook forgot how feisty you got when you're drunk.

"Um—" The bartender seemed uncomfortable while switching glances between you and Jungkook. "Do you know him?"

"She does. I'm her best friend." Jungkook answered the question of the bartender for you.

"Mam?" But the bartender didn't look convinced. The response must come out of your mouth. What if Jungkook was taking advantage of you? It's the bar's protocol to look after their drunk customer.

"He's lying." You told the bartender which made Jungkook's jaw clench.

"Tiger—" He dug his hands into your hips, steadying you in place. You looked like you're about to fall from the bar stool.

Damn it. You're too intoxicated.

"Would you like me to call you an uber, Mam?" The bartender asked but you didn't respond. Instead, you turned to Jungkook.

"You're not just my best friend, Jungkook." You put your hand on his chest. At first he thought you're gonna push him away again, he was surprised, however, when you leaned your head against his ribcage, feeling the beat of his heart "You're more than that..."

Your lips were dangerous close to Jungkook. It was as though you're waiting to be kissed; however, before your mouths molded together, Jungkook immediately tilted his head, clearly avoiding the act.

Hurt crossed your face as you heard your heart breaking.

To mask the pain, you pretended like you're sleepy. You yawned and then your eyes fluttered shut.

Moments later, you're not pretending anymore. You're off to dreamland.

The bartender let you go after seeing how you snuggled up to Jungkook, it was like you were comfortable around him, like you knew him with all of your heart.

"I'm not a bad person. I really know her. I can leave my identification cards here if you want." Jungkook offered to ease the mind of the bartender.

But the employee said there’s no need for that. He was free to leave with you.

Your best friend nodded and then he called an uber upon realizing that he couldn't drive. Admittedly he wouldn't mind driving if he was alone, but he wouldn't compromise your safety after he drank two glasses of bourbon and a shot of tequila. No questions asked. He'd definitely leave his car in the parking space of this bar. He could always come back for it later.

For now, his whole attention was focused on you. He was aware you'd be cross with him the moment you sobered up and realized you were at his home.

Jungkook didn't want to go back to the motel. He wasn't sure if he could still bear to sleep on that Godforsaken bed one more time. He knew you probably felt the same way as well. You're just too stubborn to admit it.

Jungkook helped you get on the bed. You were inside the guest room, the same room where you used to sleep whenever he begged you to stay the night.

He missed those moments. He missed having you around. You weren't just the girl he had romantic feelings for. You're also his best friend, his other half, and his soulmate. He's lost without you.

"Rest well, Tiger." After removing your shoes and massaging your feet a little, Jungkook smiled fondly at your sleeping form.

He was content just by looking at you like this. After listening to your cries every night through that thin wall of the motel room, Jungkook finally saw you sleeping soundly.

Jungkook was wrong; you didn't get crossed with him when you had realized you're in his apartment, if anything, you looked...grateful.

"Want more?" He asked thoughtfully after noticing that you had finished the bowl of soup he made just for you.

Jungkook also bought corn dogs and your favorite probiotic drink. Of course chocolates were included as well.

"No thanks. I'm full." You smiled sheepishly and avoided his gaze.

You were embarrassed, feeling like you were taking advantage of him. Jungkook prepared your food and he let you sleep in his place for more than twelve hours. He took care of you during your most vulnerable state.

You knew you didn't deserve his kindness, not after pushing him away for so many times and then trying to kiss him.

Your eyes dilated at the memory of that.

Shit.

Why did you try to kiss him!?

Were you out of your mind? Did he remember? What did he think of you? Was he disgusted?

"I should go—" You abruptly flinched, alarmed by the humiliating questions circling your head.

"You should stay the night." But Jungkook said this at the same time you told him it's better if you go.

Your head snapped to meet his gaze at once. You were obviously startled by what he said.

Jungkook was currently sitting on a chair right in front of you, the look in his eyes was gentle, almost pleading—as if he's scared you're gonna shut him down again.

"I know you don't want to be around me but I can't let you leave in the middle of the night." I don't want you to be alone, my Tiger.

"I—I need to change though." You gripped the neckline of your top. It smelled like alcohol and sweat.

"All of your things are still in the guest room." Your room. "Nothing's changed." I still love you.

"Okay." You whispered softly. "Thanks, Kook." I don't want to be alone tonight.

"Sure." Anything for you.

You ended up staying at Jungkook's apartment for a couple more days. Or was it weeks?

You honestly didn't know. All you ever did was sleep and ignore the world. You're hurting inside. You felt tired, like nothing mattered.

Jungkook said your father had been buried. You didn't get to attend the wake and the funeral.

"No one really attended, you know? It's just me and the Kims." Jungkook's attempt to soothe you didn't do anything.

Taemin's friends and colleagues didn't go to the funeral but only because they didn't want to associate themselves with your father.

People were calling him a murderer. Based on police investigation, the building collapsed because of design faults and negligence. Taemin was being blamed not only because he was the chairman of the firm but also because he was leading the construction of the building.

The public was demanding accountability.

"It's messed up. Everyone at the firm is going berserk. We need a new chairperson but the Kims are still mourning." Jungkook explained, his eyes were bloodshot.

He looked tired. He actually just got home from the office. His stress was apparent.

Jungkook also told you that the voting for the new chairperson was happening soon. The lawyers of Taemin were reaching out to the Kims so that they could finally discuss the decedent's will.

"Seokjin-hyung told me to tell you that you should be in the meeting. Anyway, I think the estate attorney would reach out to you soon. Castle wants to appoint the new chairperson as soon as possible."

"It's going to be you, right?" It took everything in you to ask this. Truthfully, it made your stomach sink. If Jungkook was going to be the new chairperson, it only meant that he and Soojin would be married soon.

But Jungkook just shrugged.

"You have to be at the meeting." And instead he said this. The loud conviction in his voice was clear.

"Will you be there too?" You enquired.

Jungkook smiled softly. "I'm not part of that family, Tiger."

You kept your mouth shut even when you wanted to say neither am I.

Just like what Jungkook said, the estate attorney contacted you. The meeting would be held at the office room of Taemin in Castle. It's because Sin-ae didn't want you to step inside their mansion again.

The meeting started almost immediately. As expected, Sin-ae and all of her children were here. She rolled her eyes and scoffed the moment she saw you. Seokjin and Namjoon both nodded at you, Soojin, on the other hand, embraced you.

She was no longer wearing a cervical collar. Your sister looked better—healthy. You suddenly wondered if she knew you were living with Jungkook.

Maybe? They're getting married soon. Jungkook wouldn't want a misunderstanding. He probably told her there's nothing to worry about. You were just his best friend. He only felt bad for you that's why he took you in.

"Let's start," the executor smiled tightly upon confirming to Namjoon that every family member of the Kims was already here.

The reading of the will went smoothly at first, but commotion began when the executor started uttering how the estate would be divided.

Sin-ae was the first to react. She was demanding to know why an illegitimate child like you had a share equal to her children.

"I know the law! It is clearly stated there that bastards are only entitled to receive one half of the share of the legitimate children! Namjoon! You tell them!" Sin-ae's eyes were wide as she turned to her smartest son, hoping that he could knock some senses into this stupid executor and lawyers.

The executor explained the reason before Namjoon could speak though.

"Your husband decided to divide his assets equally, Madame. The testator is free to do so." The executor even read the applicable law regarding the issue.

Sin-ae gasped dramatically. The glare she was giving you was piercing. However You didn't flinch like you used to.

For the first time, you didn't feel the need to hunch your shoulders and hide. You were just so exhausted from her drama and bullshit.

"Apart from that, your son, Kim Taehyung, renounced his inheritance."

Sin-ae caused another drama upon hearing that. She exclaimed and almost hit you in the face when the executor elucidated that Kim Taehyung's share would be given to you.

"No! I don't buy it! It’s absurd. Call my son right now! This isn't happening!" Seokjin and Namjoon held their mother, stopping her from attacking you.

You remained unfazed, though deep inside, you're dying of curiosity. Why would Taemin give you Taehyung's share? Why not to Soojin?

She's his favorite, right?

"There's no need for that. Your son signed the papers two years ago. His consent is not vitiated."

The executor continued despite Sin-ae's protest. In all honesty, the executor explained things well. However, you still couldn't seem to wrap your head around the fact that the free portion of Taemin's estate would also be given to you.

Seriously? Was this a terrible joke?

Sin-ae thought so too. She was so baffled to the point that she couldn't help but direct her anger at the executor.

"This is all lies! Where is the real last will and testament of my husband?" Sin-ae snatched the papers from the executor and tore it apart. She was shaking in indignation.

"Mother, stop it..." Seokjin's face was red. He was embarrassed. His mother was turning like a feral animal.

"No, oppa. I'm with our mother here. This seems like a joke to me too." Soojin finally spoke after a long moment of silence. She was scoffing at you while folding her arms over her chest.

You clenched your jaw, inhaling sharply.

"Why the hell would father give you more than fifty percent of his estate?" Soojin couldn't help but snarl at you too.

75% of Taemin's estate was for the compulsory heirs. The remaining 25% was free portion, meaning, he could give it to literally anyone, even if it's not a family member.

You would own that 25% share as well as your 15% share from the 75% portion. (75% divided by 5: four children and the testator's spouse = 15%) Since Taehyung renounced his share, that 15% would also belong to you.

Your total share was fifty five percent.

Holy shit.

"Unfortunately we can't ask the decedent. What we can do is honor his will. It's the right thing to do, both legally and morally speaking." The executor answered Soojin's question.

"Honor my ass! I tore the papers apart—"

"Does it matter? I'm sure there's another copy." You cut Sin-ae off, startling her and the rest of the family. As a matter of fact, Soojin's mouth dropped on the floor. Sin-ae's eyes darkened as she cursed you.

Namjoon tried to keep his face impassive but you saw how his eyes quivered. Seokjin flinched but you didn't get to see his reaction that much since he was busy calming his mother down.

"And if you have concerns, I think it's better to settle this in court." You weren't sure where you got the courage to speak up like this.

You just said you're tired and yes, that's true.

You were tired. Tired of getting stepped on and tired of being hated when you're literally just existing. Why did people hate you so much when all you ever did was be kind and respectful to them?

Was it true? Did people think they could harm you just because you're not fighting back? Was this really how the world worked?

If it was, then you had to fight.

"Are you challenging me, huh, bastard?" Sin-ae tried to attack you, but instead of accepting the blow, you square your shoulders like you were ready to fight.

As usual, Seokjin embraced her mother, telling her softly to calm down—that lashing out on people wouldn't do her any good.

"I don't care! I will beat the shit out of that bastard until she learns her place!" Sin-ae spitted, you saw how it landed on the floor.

"I think I am capable of knowing on my own where I belong, eomeoni." You said eomoni just to piss her off.

It worked. Her face screamed murder, it's just like the way she glared at you when she found out you're her husband's bastard.

Back then, you felt humiliated. You wanted to either run for the hill or get on your knees and beg for her forgiveness.

You drilled it in your head that it was your fault her family's breaking apart. You ruined their happy life.

Your existence ruined their peace.

You really did.

Or rather, you would.

You would ruin their peace.

Because three days after you found out that shocking fact that you're inheriting more than half of your father's estate, you came to know another shocking thing.

A thing that shook you to the core.

A thing that made you realize this is the last straw.

You were no longer going to allow the Kims to step on you.

Definitely not after you heard Soojin and Sin-ae talking about this:

"I should be the next chairperson! No one else!"

"You will be." Sin-ae grabbed her daughter's shoulders and looked her straight in the eyes. "Don't worry, Soojin-ah. It doesn't matter if that bastard has a bigger share in the company now. No one would want her to be the next chairperson. It's just you or Jungkook..."

"We have to convince Jungkook to side with us!" Your sister cried.

Sin-ae nodded her head, desperate to sooth Soojin's worries.

"I can handle Jungkook, but you have to promise me you'll handle yourself, okay? I can't deal with the both of you at the same time. Please, Soojin-ah, you need to be careful. No one should know our secret."

You furrowed your brow. Secret? What secret?

The answer was revealed to you at once.

"I destroyed all evidence." Soojin sighed, she was saying all these things confidently but you saw fear dancing in her eyes.

"No one would know I was actually the one leading the construction of that building. Father carried my sins in his grave, mother. I promise you that."

They said promises were meant to be broken.

They're right.

Soojin knew it too.

She knew it because right after those words came out of her mouth, her gaze landed on you.

Shock and Fear.

These were the two emotions that could be seen on her face.

You heard and that’s when Soojin knew she fucked up.

i’m slow with the updates because my mind keeps on bugging me with new fic ideas 🥲 i actually posted a new JJK one shot. click here if you haven’t read it yet! :D

#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #armywriterssupport #jungkook best friend #best friend jungkook #jungkook best friends to lovers #jungkook romance #jungkook drama

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ghostlywritten · 3 years

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If Only I Had Stayed In The Shadows - Chapter Twelve

James Potter x OC

A/N: At last, the long awaited chapter. Sorry for the wait, my laptop has been failing on me. Hope you enjoy.

Words: 3,8k

Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven

It was the last weekend before the beginning of the exams for literally everybody. The library was packed with not a single seat unoccupied as well as the common room, where people had even taken to sitting on the floor to study, the dorms being too sitfling.

I had been one of the lucky ones to get a seat at a table, revising my notes with James next to me.

"How do you brew the Elixir to Induce Euphoria?"

"You add shrivelfig, porcupine quills and stir four times anti-clockwise. Then you add a sprig of peppermint, Sopophorous beans and wormwood and stir six times anti-clockwise," James recited, twirling a strand of my hair between his fingers.

"That is correct."

"Yes!"

"Alright, your turn-"

"Hey, what about my reward?" James asked and I looked at him questioningly, "My kiss?" He pouted and I gave in almost immediately, not being able to resist his big earth-coloured eyes as I leant forward to press my lips against his.

"Hmm, that's it," he hummed approvingly and it made my face grow as I thought of him saying it during certain other circumstances. I was a girl, a sixteen year old girl, and of bloody course my mind would wander towards certain things that I could be doing instead of studying, now that I had a boyfriend...things, that I couldn't have had managed before on my own. And with a boyfriend as hot as mine I couldn't help but let my gaze linger whenever he stretched himself during Quidditch warm-ups, causing his shirt to deliciously rile up and reveal his abs, or watching him bite his lips whenever he concentrated hard on something, wishing he would bite me-

"Love? Cec? Hellooo?" James snapped his fingers in front of my face and I blinked. "Are you spacing out on me? Siriusly? After you dragged my ass to sit and study with you? Jeez, then ungratefulness stinks," he huffed in mock-annoyance and I shook my head to get the thoughts out.

"Sorry. What were you saying?"

"It's my turn. What colour does the Potion have and what is it for?"

"The colour should be a bright yellow and as the name implies, it's supposed to induce the drinker in a sudden euphoria."

"That is absolutely correct!"

"Of course it is," I replied arrogantly, flinging my hair before giggling. James smirked, leaning forward. "Come and get your reward then." My heart leaped in my chest but I managed to stop him with a hand on his chest. "Nah, I'm good," I teased with a shrug, briefly wondering where Marlene was. She would have been so proud of me right now. James frowned for a second before promptly throwing himself on me. "Uff, James!" I exclaimed, pearls of laughter escaping as he snuck his arms around me to lessen the blow of landing on the hard floor, pinning me down effectively with his body.

"How dare you reject my generous offer of rewarding you with a kiss?" James said gravely, chuckles drifting through his words, "You shall be punished with more rewards."

"Bite me!"

"Gladly!" I squealed as he started attacking my neck, nipping playfully at the sensitive skin.

"Can you stop with your childish antics?!” Lily's voice ripped through our laughter. She stood up with a peeved look, gathering her things. "Some people are actually trying to study!" She stormed off before any of us could form an answer.

James sprang up, adjusting his glasses as he held out a hand for me whilst looking after her. I brushed off any dirt from my clothes and went to sit down.

"I should probably go and check on her," he suggested and I wanted to ask why when he was already taking off.

"Alright," I said lamely to his back, watching until he disappeared through the portrait hole. I plopped back down on my seat, glancing at Alice, who was completely immersed in her notes, not even aware her best friend's departure. Looking down at my own notes, I tried to focus but my eyes kept drifting from word to word without taking anything in as my mind kept replaying the way James ran after Lily with little to no hesitation.

'You're thinking too much into it...

...I wonder what they are doing right now...'

I sighed loudly, frustrated that I couldn't let it go. Peeking at the only studious girl at the table, I stood up. "I'm...gonna go to the loo," I excused myself and left when I received no response.

Walking out of the common room, I promptly slapped myself on the forehead.

Was I really going to follow them like a creepy, insecure girlfriend? Obviously.

Was I going to find them with the head start they had now? Obviously not. Dumbass.

Glancing back at the portrait of the Fat Lady guarding our entrance, I pondered whether to go back inside or try looking for them. Lily was most likely heading to the library to join Remus at his study table that he had occupied since this morning. I cringed at my own behaviour when I decided to look for them. 'Im just making sure she's fine so I can focus back on my exams,' I reassured myself, 'Nothing creepy about tha-'

"Ow-!"

"Oi, Cec," Sirius greeted me gruffly, holding onto my arm until I steadied myself as he had bumped against me quite strongly, "Sorry about that. Didn't see you from the corner."

"It's all good," I replied, glad for the distraction as I straightened my robe and looked up at him. He seemed distraught, his hair unkempt and his tie hanging loosely around his neck. I would have guessed he had a good snogging session if it weren't for the sad glistening in his eyes. "Hey Sirius," I called softly as he fidgeted, already turning away, "Is everything alright?"

"Hm?" he looked over his shoulder, his expression carefully blank, "Yeah, of course. Everything is fine. Why?"

I shrugged, not wanting to point out how he seemed less than his usual joyful facade. "Just asking. Where you've been anyway? I thought we would study together in the common room?"

His face twisted into something akin to anguish and I furrowed my eyebrows. "I was with Reg..ulus," he said, turning away.

"Did som-"

"Look, I don't wanna talk about it," he snapped.

"Sirius..." He stormed off towards the portrait hole and I was left staring after a back for the second time this day. I felt the worry built up, sensing that something bad must have happened. Because, no matter how hurt or angry Sirius was, he was always very good at hiding it. Unless he was drunk or something major had happened. And since he didn't seem drunk right now...my feet started moving before my mind had been made up, walking back towards the Fat Lady and pushing every thought of James and Lily into the back of my mind. This was urgent, my platonic soulmate was in pain after all.

Stepping into the common room, I spotted the black-haired boy rush up the boys dormitory and steeled myself before following him upstairs, hoping nobody saw me step to left instead of the right passage towards the rooms. I tentatively walked down the small hallway I had never dared to step in in all my six years before, searching the signs on the doors for the Sixth Year's dormitories. Pressing an ear on one of the doors, I listened for any sound. Fortunately, there were some shuffles and the familiar voice of my friend cursing as he dropped something heavy. Just as I contemplated on whether to knock, the door swung up revealing Sirius, who had rid himself of his robe and jumper, holding a bottle of Firewhiskey in his hand and the other tightly wound around the door handle.

"What are you doing?" he asked, narrowing his shining eyes.

"I-"

"Just leave," he grumbled, his voice tense as he was holding back the tears that hadn't fallen yet. Dread filled me now as he rushed past me to the bathroom, shutting the door soundly behind him. Something was seriously wrong. This time, I didn't hesitate to follow him, pushing back the cringe at opening a boy's bathroom and peeking in. The room was empty except for one shower cabinet in the far back where the water was turned on, running at full blast.

"Sirius, I hope you are not naked, because I'm coming in," I warned, giving him a second before I opened the cabinet to find him sitting on the floor, drinking from the bottle of Firewhiskey as the water pattered down on him.

"Why can't you just leave me alone?" he mumbled, his voice thick and croaky from the burn of the alcohol, "I don't want to talk about it." He leaned his head back, closing his eyes as the water trickled down on his face and further, drenching his clothes.

"We don't need to talk," I said quietly, hoping he could hear me over the water, "I just wanna be here for you." And with that, I stepped in fully-clothed and closed the cabinet door behind me, sliding down next to him as I proceeded to get completely wet in a less than a few seconds. Sirius kept quiet, only raising his bottle to me before pressing it against his own lips when I shook my head, wondering which of the drops trailing down his face were from the shower head and which from his sorrowful eyes.

I wasn't sure how long we sat there but Sirius got up after what seemed like hours, clearing his throat as he lowered the water volume. "I'm...gonna get you the Invisibility Cloak so you can sneak out. Wait here." I nodded. "And don't turn the water off or someone might come in." I nodded again and he stepped over me, pushing the door open and disappearing from sight. I sighed as he left, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling of my clothes sticking to my skin. He came back after a few minutes with cloak and wand in hand, casting a Hot Air Charm over me as I got up and turned off the shower head. It was completely silent, but somber in some way as we proceeded to walk out of the bathroom with me under the cloak and him at the front. He held the door open, squinting to see if I had passed and I mumbled a quiet 'thanks' when I was out.

Nodding, he stepped out as well, shoving his hands into his pockets, having dried himself as well. "I will...see you around," he said, a softness in his voice and slightly slurring, "I'm just gonna head to bed."

I nodded before realising he couldn't see me. "Okay. Sleep well, Sirius."

"You too."

Turning away, I took a few steps when I heard Sirius whisper my name. "Cec, I- thank you. For being there," he stammered, seeming uncharacteristically unsure of himself. I wondered then, how many people he had shown his emotional side before. Guessing from what I knew about him, I would say it dwindled down to the four people he kept the closest plus maybe Regulus. It warmed me, that he now included me into that circle as well even if I kind of forced him to as I had followed him around. "Cec?" he called out questioningly, his grey eyes flittering around as he pondered whether I was still there or not. I quickly stepped back towards him, carefully taking his hand and squeezing it slightly. "You're more than welcome, Sirius," I whispered and his eyes softened when I raised my cloak to let him see me for a split second. "Good night."

"Good night."

Walking down to the common room, I noticed a considerably less amount of people were gathered around to study, mostly Fifth and Seventh Years. But Alice was still there and even Marlene had joined her, though her face rested on her notes as she drooled on them, fast asleep. Glancing at the clock on the wall, I noticed it was past nine o'clock. The thoughts of Lily and James that I had pushed into the back of my mind resurfaced and I swept the room with my eyes in search of either of them. There was no way Lily would have gone to bed so early on the last days before the exam and I briefly remembered all the times we had together to study until past midnight for our O.W.L.'s last year. 'Was she still at the library?' But the library had been closed for an hour now.

My stomach grumbled in that moment and the sound resonated throughout the otherwise quiet room. I blushed, despite the fact that no one could see me under the cloak, as a few heads raised in confusion. Only now did I realise how hungry I was since I had missed dinner and also skipped lunch earlier this day. 'A quick snack from the kitchen it is,' I decided, walking towards the entrance and out of the common room. 'And on my way I can make a short detour to see if Lily actually managed to convince Madam Pince to let her stay past the closing hours to study. Wouldn't put it past her to play the Prefect Card for this.'

Skipping down the stairs, I took the corridor to the library and found it entirely deserted. I sighed relieved, not knowing what exactly I was relieved for, as I turned away to head towards the kitchen. The halls were empty and dark, with the occasional light of the half-moon breaking through the tall windows and I breathed in the fresh air of a summer night, enjoying the peaceful silence as I strolled towards the kitchen.

But the peace would only last for so long.

I reached the corridor with the painting of the fruit bowl, fastening my steps as my stomach gave another protesting growl. Just when I was about to tickle the pear in the painting, anticipating all the good food the elves would cook in a matter of minutes, the door opened from the inside, nearly banging against my forehead. I stumbled back as the door swung to the side, revealing James. My heart skipped a beat in surprise but also at the sight of twinkling eyes that seemed unnaturally light in all the darkness surrounding us. Grinning, I grasped at the hem of the cloak, ready to spook him when he turned back towards the kitchens, engulfing his face in a warm glow of light coming from the big room.

A shadow crossed his features and he held his hand out for Lily, who was laughing softly as she took it, letting him help her out of the hole. "Thanks," she said.

"You are very welcome," James replied with a grin as the door shut close, engulfing us all in a sudden darkness. I blinked, squinting in hopes to see better as my eyes adjusted. For a second everything was silent before the two started walking. Biting my lip, I followed them before I could think about what I was doing. 'We are all headed to the same direction, I can't help it that I need to walk behind them. And since I'm not hungry anymore- oh, who am I kidding, I'm starving,' I complained to myself, cursing my brain for having the urge to spy on the two in all my insecure glory.

They walked in silence for a while before standing on the staircase.

"Thanks for the food," Lily spoke up as they waited for the stairs to stop moving, "I really needed it."

"Figures. You didn't eat anything today," James replied.

"How do you know that?"

"Eh," I could practically feel him blush as he stammered for an answer. "I just saw you and Cec studying all day, so I guessed that you hadn't eaten anything yet. Cec hasn't at least."

"Right," Lily said quietly, walking up the stairs as they stopped moving. I followed silently, watching the moon reflect on her brilliant red hair and noticing James did, too. "You know, I was surprised how you two suddenly got together."

"Hm?" James hummed, looking at his shoes as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his robes.

"I mean, one day you were asking me out and the other you were suddenly hanging around with her and started dating," Lily said in joking manner and James chuckled along, though I couldn't grasp the joke in it. "It was...surprising, yeah," she ended awkwardly and the mood turned somber.

"Well, I guess it surprised a lot of people," James chuckled again, seemingly nervous as he ran a hand through his messy mop of hair. "But, Cec is great. She is amazing, really," he added, his voice turning steady and gentle, tugging at my heart strings. I felt a smile form on my face.

"She is quite great, yeah," Lily agreed softly. Now I felt bad for eavesdropping. 'You're siriusly messed up, dumbass,' I scolded myself. But I didn't stop. "I'm happy for you guys. It's nice to see Cec so happy and seeing a normal side of you."

James scoffed, "Normal?"

"What?" Lily giggled.

"What side of me has not been normal before?"

"I'm just saying, it's refreshing to know a side of you that wouldn't enchant cupids to read me sappy poems and throw pink glitter all over me," Lily recalled, laughing to herself as James blushed beet-red.

"Well, normal is overrated anyway," he muttered into his tie, smiling as Lily bumped her fist against his arms.

"I kinda miss it," she said and I noticed her eyes widen as soon as the sentence left her mouth. James' lips quirked up, his eyes shining. "Do you now?" he asked smugly, laughing as she slapped his arm.

"I mean," she started but paused. The mood turned slightly somber as she fiddled with her sleeve.

"You mean?" James prompted almost eagerly and I bit my lip, the tugging in my heart strings turning to harsh pulls.

Lily sighed, "It's nothing. Just, now that I know the 'normal' side of you, the one, you probably show to your friends and Cec...I think, all the stuff you used to do was quite endearing."

James kept quiet for a second. "You mean, when I endlessly chased after you?"

"All the things you did to ask me out. The cupids, the flowers, the sweets...," I distinctly heard Lily gulp as she stopped and turned towards him, causing him to falter in his steps, too. "I didn't recognise it back then, but it must have cost you a lot of effort and I think that's sweet..." James held his breath. "...and a little bit excessive." They both chuckled lightly before turning quiet, staring at the other.

"So, it was not for nothing after all," James muttered softly, almost as if he were dazed as he stared into her eyes. I clutched at the cloak tightly, feeling cold all of a sudden.

Lily cocked her head to the side, strands of red hair gliding over her shoulder like ocean waves. "Yeah. It did not get me to say yes back then, but..."

"But?" James pressed, taking a step forward.

Lily took a deep breath as if she were preparing herself for something, "But...if I had known this side of you before, I might have agreed. To- you know." I stilled, my tight grip on the cloak loosening slightly. James' eyes widened and I could see the elation spread through his face even if he didn't smile.

"To going out with me?" he asked breathlessly. Lily hesitated before she nodded. For a minute, we all stood in silence as James stared at her, dumbfounded. Lily's eyes flickered around as if she were scared to get caught. "Anyway, it doesn't matter!" she stated, too loudly for the quiet atmosphere, "I mean, you are with Cec now and you guys are happy."

"Yeah...yeah we are," James said, still in stupor.

"Yeah, so..." Lily gestured forward, turning to start walking again.

"But what if we aren't?" James spoke up, causing her to halt in her footsteps. My heart stopped.

"What?" she asked, looking at him over her shoulder.

It was James' turn to take a deep breath as if he were preparing himself for something, "What if Cec and I weren't happy?"

Lily furrowed her eyebrows. "What do you mean? You guys look besotted with each other."

"Yeah, that's the thing," James said firmly, determination flooding his features. "We look like we are besotted with each other. It was an act." I swayed slightly as if I had been punched in the chest. "It was just an act." It was just an act. The words seemed to echo in the hallway, pounding relentlessly into my eardrums as I stood frozen, staring the bespectacled boy.

"It was an act?" Lily asked incredulously. James nodded. She turned towards him fully in disbelief. "You were acting like you were together?!" James nodded again. "Why?"

"I was trying to show you a more civil side of me," he said and my eyes widened. 'Be civil' I heard my own voice resonate through my mind. I tried to keep my breathing even as my chin trembled. "I wanted you to see what kind of guy I am since you wouldn't go out with me. I wanted you to see the real me. How I would be if we were together."

Lily stared at him. "I don't even know what to say...," she trailed off.

"Since you appreciated all the efforts I put into asking you out, you could appreciate this as well?" James asked hopefully and I was starting to feel sick. It was just an act. Something in me shattered. I turned away, trying to shield the little, constricting organ in my chest from his words.

"But wait, is Cec part of this? How is she managing to pretend this whole time?" she pondered and James' face fell. Noticing this, she narrowed her eyes at him. "Is she pretending, James? Does she know about your relationship being an act?"

James tensed up, biting his lip as he glanced away and it was all the answer that Lily needed. Her emerald green eyes widened. "James...," she breathed in disbelief, "How could you do this to her?"

"Listen, Cec won't take it too hard," James tried as Lily shook her head in disbelief, "She knows it's nothing serious. We've grown closer, yes, as friends."

"I don't think she sees it like that," Lily responded and I chose that moment to walk away. Because she was absolutely right.

Chapter Thirteen

#james potter x reader #james potter x oc #James Potter #james potter fanfiction #Sirius Black #marauders imagine #marauders fanfiction #marauders era #Remus Lupin #Lily Evans #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine #marlene mckinnon #harry potter #marauders

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dizzydancingdreamer · 3 years

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Steve Rogers, The Man On Fire

Hey y'all, as Pride month draws to a close I would like to post this fic. It's been in my drafts for a month and I finally today found the motivation to finish it. This is special to me for many reasons, one of which being that I'm proudly a part of this community. Some of the anger written in is my own. I think a lot of people will resonate with it. I really hope you all enjoy this and happy Pride Month <3

This was based loosely off a headcannon and once I re-find it I will credit!

Synopsis: Steve is freshly thawed, queer, and pissed | A.k.a. Steve's experience in 21st Century America

Characters: Steve Rogers, Mentions of Bucky Barnes, (loosely a Stucky fic but Steve thinks he's dead here)

Warnings: Angst but not bad, Steve Rogers being volatile and chaotic (we love), poorly written accents (I literally read this with an accent in my head), literally a 2k monologue

Word count: 5.1k

Steve Rogers came out of the ice angry.

No— not angry— Steve Rogers came out of the ice fuckin’ furious.

He came out of the ice with his hands curled into two fists, with his jaw clenched so hard his teeth were liable to snap, and with a bone to pick with every damn reporter and historian and too loud opinion on this side of the Brooklyn Bridge.

He came out simmering— no, erupting— like the serum in his blood couldn’t keep his body from hibernation all those years ago but it sure as hell won’t keep him from setting the entirety of New York on fire now. He’ll burn it all down if he has to and rebuild it the way he remembers it— the way Bucky would have remembered it— and at the end of it all no one— not the bigots or deniers or the homophobes that seem to be the only thing that came with him from the forties— will be able to say that Captain America can’t love whoever he wants.

No one will be able to say that Steve Rogers didn’t love James “Bucky” “the man I’ve loved since twelve years old” Barnes with everything he had and then some.

No one.

So he starts with the museums in Washington— because sure it isn’t New York but where else would a relic like himself belong more?

He still has hope when he enters the building. They didn’t make them like this when he was a kid— they had science fairs in the town hall and culture fairs in the backstreets near the docks but never anything this grand. No tall marble pillars or enough stairs to make him wonder if he would have been able to climb to the top when he was half the size he is now. It’s strange. It’s kind of wonderful. Yeah, the Smithsonian museums make Steve Rogers feel small for the first time in a very long time and that gives him hope.

That hope doesn’t last long, though, because soon he’s wandering through the halls, following the signs that say Captain America: The First Avenger— what the hell is an Avenger? Is that what they’re calling soldiers these days? Now he feels small and old.

Turning the corner is like landing on another planet, one devoted entirely to him. His picture is everywhere he looks, his name is in lights, even his damn uniform has been replicated and presented on a little stage and he hates it. The rage is back, sparking at his fingers— he’s a match and lucky for everyone this building is made of stone because if it wasn’t he’s sure it would be reduced to nothing but ash by now.

It only worsens as he begins reading through the plaques and the paragraphs flashing across screens on the walls— he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to that. The more he reads, though, the more he wonders if the stone is really, truly safe from the fire in his blood. He doesn’t think it is.

He surely isn’t at least— he feels like he’s going to explode. This isn’t him— none of this is him. War hero. Martyr. Golden boy. He has to stop reading that plaque— clearly no one did their research. Clearly no one dug up his medical files— or his police records. Brawls at the pub, disorderly conduct behind Mr. De Luca’s sandwich shop, public nudity at the beach that one time— thank you Bucky for the best night of his god damn life. Golden boy— ha.

Golden nobody with the black eye and broken hand is more like it.

For a moment he thinks he’s fine— he thinks it can’t get worse than this. Then he gets to the early life section and for an even longer moment his tongue tastes like gunpowder.

Steven Grant Rogers grew up in the streets of Brooklyn alongside his friend James Buchanan Barnes—

He can’t bring himself to finish the sentence— not when they already got the most important part wrong. Friend. Friend? No, no, no. No! There are a million words in the english language that Steve could use to describe Bucky and ‘friend’ will never be the first one.

How about best friend?

How about partner in crime?

How about soulmate who loved Steve so much that every night for the past forty-eight days since he woke up in an era that Bucky doesn’t exist in he’s cried himself to sleep with the same cherry cola taste of his ‘friend’ on his tongue.

It’s the final straw— Steve loses it.

“Anyone got a marker?”

The museum is quiet before he speaks but when his voice— steadily rising and taking on that New York headiness that his troops used to jazz him about— cuts through the exhibit— his fuckin’ exhibit— it’s silent. It’s dead, almost as dead as Buck— Nobody dares move a muscle as he rips his ball cap off his head and throws it at the statue of himself. Everyone knows who he is— everyone is going to know who he is so help him god.

“I said—” he tries again— “does anyone have a marker?”

It takes a moment for the people around him to pick their jaws up off the floor and he allows them that moment with a smug grin starting to tug on the corners of his lips. Finally— they’re starting to get it.

He’s not a hero; he’s a supernova of every scrawny, queer kid who’s ever gotten beaten to a pulp for kissing who they want.

Maybe then it’s fitting that the marker— when it’s finally produced and placed in his waiting palm— comes from a teenage girl with a shaved head and a blue, pink, and purple denim jacket and a busted lip. She doesn’t say much— only a mumbled here you go— but her eyes say everything that her words don’t. Give em’ hell, Cap. For the first time since waking up he flashes a genuine grin back— yeah, this one’s for you kid.

Steve wastes no time uncapping the sharpie— he’ll look that one up later— and scratching out the error. The blasphemy to his unholy name. It takes him a little longer to decide what to write in its place. There are a million words, sure, but somehow none of them feel right at this moment. None of them are enough. That’s something he’ll have to come to terms with later, though— how much nothing feels like enough anymore without Bucky.

Finally Steve settles on a word and he scribbles it as neatly as he can given the fact that he hasn’t had to write anything in eighty years. When he takes a step back, feeling alive for the first time since waking up, he beckons over the girl with the shaved head and points to the place where he’s taken it upon himself to correct history.

“Hey kid, why don’t you go ahead and read that outloud for everyone here.”

He allows another moment— this time because she deserves the time it takes for her eyes to light up and the smile to stretch across her bruised mouth.

Steve laughs— a rusted, croaky laugh; another first in forever— when her head whips around, facing him as she loudly proclaims: “It says boyfriend. Steve Rogers grew up in the streets of Brooklyn alongside his boyfriend Bucky Barnes!”

“Damn right I did—” he mutters to the kid before taking a step towards the crowd of gaping mouths. “Did you all hear that? Don’t worry if ya’ didn’t— I’ll say it one more time. Boyfriend. Bucky was my boyfriend and if he was here today he would be my husband. If any of you have a problem with that then feel free to take it up with me. I took on half of Brooklyn for that man and I’ll do it again.”

When no one says anything Steve nods, turning to hand the girl back her marker and to thank her— he may be angry but he hasn’t lost all his manners— but when he looks at her she doesn’t look back. Instead she takes the same step forward that he had, one of her hands balled into a tiny, shaking fist at her side and the other wrapped around a cell phone that’s pointed towards the crowd. He doesn’t understand the mechanics but he thinks she’s recording.

“You hear that?” She parrots the super soldier with a wavering but fierce voice. “Captain America likes men! And none of you can deny it!”

This time it’s his mouth that drops, watching as she shakily turns the camera off and spins back around. Before Steve can say anything, though, she’s talking again, this time hastier, and he can’t help but think that she sounds so much like him. All flushed and scrawny and pissed.

“I’m sorry, I’ll delete the recording if you want but, I jus’ know these bigots are gonna’ try and cover everything up and that would be a fuckin’ shame. I don’t know if you know how many kids need to hear this. I did— and I think they should too. Only if you want, of course.”

He doesn’t answer right away— he can’t. It’s like looking at himself at fifteen. Suddenly he’s back again, his feet hanging in the water as his boyfriend paces behind him, asking if he’s ready to have him look at his knuckles yet. He didn’t get that many good punches in— the scrapes are mostly from the pavement— but Buck always worries too much so it doesn’t matter. The protective idiot.

Steve shakes his head, blinking away the sunset lingering behind his eyes. “Bucky woulda’ loved you, kid.”

The next time he loses it— the next time he turns into more flame than man— is after he saves the city he’s been trying to burn down for three months.

It isn’t long after that day in the museum when Nick Fury decides it would be best for everyone if Steve goes back into the field. Of course, no one really asks him what he wants— they pretty much just shove a new suit into his hands and tell him to get training, Captain— but what else is new?

No one really comments on his outburst besides that either. Can you really call it an outburst when you’re just trying to reclaim the parts of you that have been stolen? Sure, the press gets a hold of the story and, true to what the kid had said, tries to twist it into something more digestible, but no one actually addresses it up with Steve. Apparently when someone saves the world as good as he does no one cares that they kiss men.

Or that they don’t wanna’ to actually save the world anymore.

See, in those three months— between the training and training and even more training that Steve Rogers begrudgingly obliges— he has time to catch up on the world. More importantly, he has time to catch up on what the world thinks of him. He scours a plethora of documentaries, scholarly essays, and whole books of information about his time as Captain America. Well— his time as Captain America when it mattered. In all his scouring he learns one thing: everything written about him is wrong.

It’s all so fuckin’ wrong.

Just why the hell would he want to save a world so bent on destroying who he is?

The Smithsonian exhibition was nothing compared to what’s been written in the eighty years he spent in the ice. Better yet, nothing compared to what hasn’t been written about him. They’ve taken an eraser to every part of his life that doesn’t fit with the golden image that they constructed for him. A.k.a. every part that matters. His relationship, his past, every little thing that made him supposedly perfect for the role he was given. Gone. Erskine told him he was a good man— apparently he was the only one who thought so.

Apparently being a good man isn’t good enough.

They only wanted the perfect soldier. Yeah, well, they had one and they fucked him over too. Don’t even get him started on what they did to Bucky— Steve doesn’t want to think about what Winnifred— Winnie for short— Barnes would do if she saw the history books erasing her baby’s Jewish roots. Or his relationship. It wouldn’t be pretty, that’s for damn sure. If ever there was someone more protective than Bucky it would have been his mother. Not that there’s a damn note about her in anything either though.

Maybe that’s the final straw that does him in this time— watching the place that Mrs. Barnes loved more than almost anything else in the world crumble, while also knowing that the world no longer gives a shit about the two people she loved more.

“Mr. Rogers, this is where you grew up, is it not? Is there anything you would like to say about what took place here in your home city today?”

Maybe he pretends not to hear the last part— maybe he really does only hear up until where the reporter asks him if there is anything he wants to say. He’s been around quite his fair share of explosions; it would make sense that his hearing is a little off. Maybe he just doesn’t care anymore, though.

Scratch that— he definitely doesn’t care anymore.

And why the fuck should he? He does have something to say and propriety be damned he’s going to say it.

Steve stares into the crowd of faceless reporters and flashing cameras with a scowl on his grimey face. Around him stand the other Avengers— his ‘team’. The last time he had a team the historians screwed up the history for every single member. Dugan, Morita, Falsworth, Jones, Dernier, Sawyer, Juniper, Pinkerton. Barnes. All of them were brave men with families and sacrifices and all of them were treated like jokes by ‘reporters’ just like the ones in front of him now. He really doubts there’s a difference between old and new journalism.

The only difference is that now he’s here and this time he’s not going to let them write anything but the damn truth.

“It is—” Steve muses, brushing the sweaty hair from his forehead— “I’m surprised you know that though.”

The reporter cocks his head, clearly confused, and it makes the super soldier’s blood boil. “Come again, sir?”

“I said I’m surprised you know where I was born, kid.” This time when he says the word— kid— it’s derogatory. “Ya’ know, considering how you all seem to know nothing about me otherwise.”

Steve almost smiles at the way the crowd tenses. He actually would if it weren’t for the white hot rage coursing through his veins, mingling with the last of the adrenaline leftover in his system. It gives him an extra kick— not that he needs it. Even when he was just a runt from the wrong side of the tracks he needed nothing more than an offhand comment to raise his fists. Fighting to Steve Rogers has always been intoxicating— the aftershocks of winning the battle just makes it more thrilling now.

Who knew, right?

“Sir I asked—” The reporter sputters and Steve simply holds a hand up, silencing him before he can start again.

“Yeah I know what you asked, alright. You want me to talk about the battle here in New York today and how I am more than happy to have risked my life to save it. But I can’t do that, kid. Because I didn’t save it for you. I didn’t save it for any of you.”

Steve feels his team tense— maybe were it any other time he would stop talking. He would just leave it, let the issue go, because Bucky would tell him too. They aren’t worth it, bruiser, he would say, they aren’t worth your blood. Maybe he would listen to his boyfriend because usually he was right. Bucky was always right. So yeah, maybe he would list—

Who is he kidding; he knows he wouldn’t.

Not then and certainly not now— not when Bucky isn’t here to defend himself against everything Steve has been reading about. That’s exactly why he doesn’t stop talking. Someone has to defend him and who better of a person than him? So, yeah, he keeps going, even when he hears footsteps behind him.

“You wanna’ know who I did save it for? James Barnes, that’s who I saved it for! You see, just around that corner there is a bookstore. Rickley Books. That was my boyfriend's favourite bookstore. You know, the man who gave his life to stop a train in Austria from reaching the enemies? Yeah that was him. That train was filled with supplies. Had it reached their headquarters, who knows if we’d be standing here today. If there would be a New York at all. Not that you would know that. But who cares about that dead sergeant from the 107th, right? There’s plenty just like him.”

Steve shrugs nonchalantly— a move he picked up from the very man he’s speaking about— but he spits his words at the reporters with enough venom to cancel out any peace that the action brings. That’s his own move.

He keeps going. “You know who else I saved it for? His mother. Yeah, his mother Winnie Barnes. Wonderful lady. She used to run a soup kitchen a couple blocks from here. Kept the rift raft like myself from going hungry most nights— I was a brawler, you know.”

A couple of reporters in the crowd laugh at that and Steve flinches, his vision tinting red as he cranes his neck, seeking them out.

“Oh you think that’s funny, do you? You think I’m joking? I’m not. You ever been backed into a corner, son? Had people hurl slurs at you that I can’t even repeat today? Ever been beaten up for loving your best friend? No, I bet you haven’t. You weren’t a queer kid in the thirties. That’s hard— that’s borderline impossible actually. I only made it because of people like Winnie Barnes. That woman was a saint but nobody talks about her either.”

Steve has to take a deep breath, clearing the rasp in his voice that rises as he dwells on the woman he called his second mother for so long. She wasn’t just a saint, she was an angel. He can’t cry here though, not now. Not even as his throat begins to tighten.

“Winnie was the type of lady who didn’t let anyone walk over the little people. She used to sit me down and say Stevie you gotta’ fight for what you want because ain’t nobody gonna’ give it to you. She told me that I shouldn’t have to but that there were going to be people who would try to tear me down just for being me. And she was right— just like her son— because that was the era, you know? But now, here in the twenty-first century, you’re all still trying to tear us down.”

A hand lands on his shoulder, small fingers tugging at where his suit has begun to tear. Natasha Romanoff. He meets her gaze quickly, neck craning to stare down the red head, and in the few seconds their eyes meet it’s like Bucky is next to him. Somehow the blue in her irises catches the falling sun just like his used to. Steve can hear the gruff of his voice in the depths of his mind. Back down, bruiser. The sentiment is echoed across Nat’s face.

Steve shakes her hand off him, turning back to the reporters— don’t they know that he can’t?

“You all say you care about me, huh? That I’m a hero? You know nothing about me— you don’t want to. Before I was a soldier I was a kid. A queer kid. I said that already but let me repeat it. Queer. Did you write that down? None of you certainly did before. That’s how I know that you don’t care— because in an age where being queer is infinitely more accepted you still don’t bother to write it down.”

He pauses for another breath, shutting his eyes against the blinking red lights of the cameras. They’re like little demons, always watching his every move. Recording. Everything’s always recorded these days. Will he ever be used to that? Bucky was the technology guy, not him. Not then and not now.

When Steve picks up again— eyes open and shoulders freshly straight— it’s on a new note— a clear note.

“You don’t care about me— you certainly don’t care about the real heroes of the war because if you did you wouldn’t erase our history. Do you know how much it would have meant to Bucky to see our relationship accepted? The man who died for you? How much it would’ve meant to his mother? You can’t just pick which of our stories and our sacrifices are worthy and which aren't.”

He hasn’t spoken this much since he’s woken up, not all at once at least. Maybe he should have, though— maybe if he had then he wouldn’t feel like ripping the heads off everyone in front of him right now. Call it fight or flight. Call it revenge. Hell, call it whatever you’d like because it doesn’t really matter. Either way he feels like a kid again— again— backed into a corner behind the deli with his fists up and his teeth bared.

He feels feral again.

“So now you just want me to save the world like I did— like Bucky did— all those years ago— or maybe jus’ New York— as if that’s any better— and you don’t even bother to write a proper article about me? Hell, I never even asked for an article, let alone a whole exhibit! I’m just a soldier— and before that I was just a kid. If there’s never another article written about me I’ll be grateful. But now that I’m here, standing in front of you, I’ll say this—”

Just as Steve’s voice is cresting into a shout that would no doubt be heard regardless of whether or not the microphones were in front of him, Natasha tries one more time, her fingers slipping between his.

Her voice is a dull buzz compared to his, only reaching his ears by sheer will. “C’mon Stevie— we gotta’ go now.”

Like before he’s stunned but this time instead of seeing Buck— instead of hearing him in his head— he hears Winnie.

You fought good, honey. You fought good for us. You can rest now.

It’s jarring and it’s not lost on him the handful of awkward seconds that it takes for him to respond. That’s just the effect Winnie had on people though— still has, apparently. Steve shakes his head— I know, mama. But I gotta’ finish this fight.

“No, Nat— I’ve got to say this.” Steve mumbles— voice just beginning to waver despite how hard he clenches his jaw— before sneering at the crowd one last time.

“If I ever read an article from any of you that discredits Bucky Barnes, our relationship, or myself just know that I’ll come for you. I’ll come for this city. Don’t you ever forget who I saved it for. James Barnes, Winnie Barnes, and every queer kid who’s ever felt erased because of people like you. The bigots in the forties couldn’t stop me. The Nazis couldn’t stop me. Not even the Atlantic Ocean could stop me. So don’t think for a second that any of you could either. Have a good day.”

With that Captain America turns, marching off the impromptu stage and beginning the trek back to his apartment. He doesn’t bother looking at his team as he passes them— he can imagine their stunned faces well enough on his own. No doubt he’ll be getting another assignment from Fury soon enough to make up for this ‘outburst’ too. Still, he feels a little bit better. There’s an ache in his shoulder, and one under his ribs too, but he still smiles as he passes Rickman and Sons Books. That must mean something good.

The last time Steve Rogers burns he doesn’t burn the way he’s expecting to— he doesn’t vandalize his own name or blow up at a reporter. No, the third time— the final time— that Steve Rogers burns it’s with nostalgia— and with a damn good cup of coffee in his hand.

“I had no idea this place was even here.” The girl across from Steve muses, tiny hands shifting the steaming cup back and forth.

Her name is Ellie, he learned that back at the museum after asking for a copy of the video she took. He barely knew how to use his phone back then, let alone his email— hell, both still confuse him more often than not— but she had been patient. A little awestruck and a little riled up too but he took it in stride— easily. It’s not hard being nice to the spitting image of him.

“I’m glad I’m good for something other than making the news.” Steve chuckles and this time he means it— there’s no malice or ill intent, only humor. “O’Malley’s ‘s been here longer than I have. Looked a little different then—” he takes a moment to let his eyes wander the old coffee shop and it’s new appliances— a moment to feel his age catch up to him— “but I guess I did too.”

Ellie’s laughter joins in there and it’s strange— strange that he hasn’t laughed with another person in seven, almost eight, months; strange that her laughs sound so much like Bucky’s when they were younger; strange that Bucky isn’t here to hear. Here to laugh, too. Because he would have.

He would have called Steve an old man, would have wrapped his arm around his shoulders, would have asked— no, demanded— that Ellie try the plum cobbler. They always made the best cobbler. Bucky always had the best laugh. All grit and breath and him. Steve feels warm just thinking about it.

“Well thanks for letting me in on the secret, I’ll make sure to guard it carefully.” She even has Bucky’s warm sarcasm.

Maybe it’s not so much like looking in a mirror as it is looking at what he wishes he and his boyfriend could have been back then.

“And thanks for letting me interview you—” Ellie continues, setting the cup down but not before nodding at it, her eyes wide— “wow. You weren’t kidding about the joe, huh? Anyway— thanks for scheduling this. I know you’re probably super busy— and that there are more well established people you could have gone to.”

Steve sets his own mug down too— if he hadn’t there’s a possibility it would be more puddle than porcelain. “Well established means nothin’, kid. Not when you don’t have heart. They’re parasites, all of ‘em. The press couldn’t care less about me.”

Ellie nods, lifting the lid of her laptop. It’s a little bit dented and slathered in stickers, not quite the newest model— he would know, he has the newest one and it’s still sitting in his apartment in the box. Yet another testament to how little the people around him truly know him.

“Welcome to the twenty-first century, can I get you a side of classism with that commercialism?”

Now she sounds like Winnie too.

“Say, has anyone ever told you that you’re funny?”

She shrugs, tilting her head, a lopsided grin glued to her face. “Once or twice— I never know if they mean it or if they just want me to shut up. I never do so I guess we’ll never know.”

Steve sputters out another laugh because; “I guess we’re the same then— never give them a moment, kid. That’s the best advice I can give you.” He pauses— again— he supposes it’s going to be a day of pausing— he supposes it’s about time he pauses— before adding, “Bucky would’ve scolded me for saying that.”

Ellie’s fingers, swift and deft over the machine— Steve hadn’t even seen her begin to type— pause too as her smile softens. “What would he have said instead?”

Her question shouldn’t catch off guard— this is why he asked her to meet him; to finally, properly write his story— their story. Still he pauses— Steve’s empty hands feel hot, his shoulders warm; bare— what would he have said? It doesn’t take long to hear his boyfriend’s voice, not there but somehow loud in his ear all the same.

Just relax— they aren’t worth it. It’s too nice out to care about anything but the water— are you coming in or not? Summer doesn’t last forever, you know?

It’s impossible but Steve can feel the sun on his back and on his ears again, like he’s there— like he’s back, sixteen and on fire. Those were the days where everything made him cold. The days where his skin burned no matter the season but especially in August which was when the ocean was warm enough to swim in. It never stopped him from joining Buck— nothing could have stopped him. His cheeks warm, too, at the thought.

Steve blinks, his own smile— perhaps a little lopsided in it’s own right— shaping over his mouth. “He would have told you to relax— and to try the plum cobbler. It’s fantastic.”

With another giggle— and a reiterated comment— has anyone ever told you you’re funny, Steve?— they fall into a conversation, just a kid and a relic, about life. It’s not an easy conversation— but then again those kinds never are. It’s real, though, and unedited. Unfiltered. Just the way Erskine and Winnie and Bucky would have liked it— the only way Steve wants it. It’s not perfect but, hell, Steve has never been perfect.

He’s never wanted to be.

Maybe Steve doesn’t know everything his boyfriend would say— and maybe he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t blow up once or twice after today— but he can confidently say that he gave Brooklyn a run for her money— twice— and lived to tell the tale. He can say then when it mattered, he burned. That he still burns. That he will until he doesn’t— until he’s extinguished.

But, hey, though Summer doesn’t last forever, not even the Atlantic could extinguish the flame that is Steve Rogers.

That’s what he writes— in Sharpie— on the card he writes to Ellie— the one attached to the computer he knows he’ll never use.

#Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #Stucky #steve x bucky #Queer!steve rogers #Queer!Steve #Queer!Bucky #Queer!Bucky Barnes #Captain America #pride month #Steve angst #steve fluff #Marvel cinematic universe #Mcu #mcu fic #steve fic

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prongsies · 4 years

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Fate’s Ridiculous Ways • Soulmate AU

REQUEST: Hello! Can I request a Harry Potter x reader with the soulmate au where you have the name of your soulmate wrote on your wrist, but the funny thing is that the reader is Snape's daughter and Snape is like why? why him out of all the people on the school? can it have a happy ending please? thank you so much in advance!!💕💕💕 - Anon

PAIRING: Harry Potter x Snape! Reader

WARNINGS: None

________________________________________________________________

‘Fate had such a ridiculous way of making things work’ Your father, Severus Snape told you that the time you expressed to him your worries about not clicking with your soulmate.

He told you he shared the same sentiments before when he was still a student, having had a crush on Lily Evans, wishing for his soulmate mark to read her name when it appeared on his sixteenth birthday. He was utterly devastated when it didn’t. Instead, it read Renee Lightwood - a Ravenclaw in his year who had outsmarted him far too many times to his liking.

She was a good friend to Sirius Black and James Potter - who later became Lily Evans’ own soulmate. He told her he questioned the universe at first - why it had always been so cruel to him, giving him a soulmate who is basically a part of the infamous Marauders.

But he understood. She had been good to him - Renee. She changed him for the better. Overtime, he had grown to tolerate Sirius and James - who, although a part of him wants to hex into tomorrow, had grown a tad bit kinder to him. But the best thing fate had done to him, was give him a daughter - (Y/N) Snape. Who, he thanked the heavens above, inherited her mother’s gorgeous physicalities and her father’s intellect - “Don’t tell your mother that”

It was mid-December when you stood in the Potions classroom, alongside your godbrother Draco Malfoy, as he complained to you about how Potter wouldn’t leave him alone. You weren’t exactly listening anymore at this point, as you allowed your eyes to drift over to the same person Draco had been endlessly ranting about, watching him speak in hushed voices with his friends Ron and Hermione.

“Are you even listening, (Y/N)?” said Draco, pulling you out of your gaze. You looked up at him to see him studying you with a frown, which quickly turned into a smirk, “Or were you busy ogling at Potter?”

“Oh, sod off, Draco” You laughed, shoving him - which clearly didn’t faze him considering he towered over you. “It’s not like you were the one complaining about how oooh ‘Harry Potter is following me’ oooh ‘he’s so obsessed with me’ ooooooh, ‘my father will hear about this’ oooooh”

“Alright, settle down” Professor Slughorn’s voice boomed into the room before Draco could even retaliate, glaring playfully at you as you all walked to surround the professor’s table, watching him stand behind a cauldron with a potion brewing inside.

Draco nudged you playfully with his hip, turning your attention towards him as Professor Slughorn discussed the cauldron’s content - Amortentia, the most powerful love potion in the world. You were too busy play-fighting with Draco in the back of the class though, so you were quite surprised when you heard your name called.

“Ms. Snape, would you please step in here in front?” He called out.

You turned to glare at Draco, who was smirking having gotten you in trouble Nevertheless, you made your way towards the front of the class, shoulder bumping with Harry as he moved to make way for you, “Sorry” You had mumbled, to which he replied to with a “s’alright”

“Alright, Ms. Snape” started Slughorn when you were already in front of him, “Your father told me you turn sixteen tomorrow, am I correct?”

“Yes, professor” You replied simply, not knowing where he was going with this.

“Well, I don’t know if any of you know but Amortentia is said to be a lot stronger to people who are about to receive their soulmate mark,” He explained, turning to the class, “In fact, a lot of witches and wizards tend to use this as a way of determining who they are bound to - ahead of their birthdays. Ms. Snape, if you please”

He motioned for you to stand across him, “Now, just take a small whiff of the potion - nothing too extreme as a big inhale” He laughed, gesturing you to lean forward, “A small sniff is sufficient”

You were hesitant as you leaned in, allowing your nose to take in the smell before leaning back far too quickly, making you dizzy, or was it the potion that had made you dizzy? The scent lingered in your nose longer than you expected, which almost made you sneeze if you hadn’t held it back.

“So?” Professor Slughorn prompted, watching you open your eyes which you were unaware you have closed in the first place, “What do you smell, Ms. Snape?”

You blushed, trying to pin point the mix of scents you gathered as accurately as you can, “Well, there’s... the smell of damp morning grass, old books, and... a broomstick handle?”

You said the last almost questioningly, looking up at Professor Slughorn who simply smiled at you. How could that be? you don’t even like flying on broomsticks.

“Thank you, Ms. Snape” He said before looking back towards the class, “Now I want you all to form a straight line and take a whiff for yourself! Go on!”

It was five minutes until midnight. You were in your father’s office, standing alongside your parents as you waited for the clock to strike twelve. Your mother had arrived hours ago, bearing a circular chocolate cake and a couple of candles for you to blow.

You scurried away back to your table, eyes meeting Draco was grinning playfully at you, eyes darting towards Harry Potter before winking.

___

Your father had lit them, looking down at you with a smile on his face as you waited anxiously for your mark to appear. He shared a look with Renee, whose eyes had grown watery ever since she hugged her daughter at her arrival. She laughed upon noticing you had worn a sweater for the occasion, wanting the name to be a surprise for all of you.

As the clock struck twelve, you closed your eyes, blowing the candles in front of you as your parents greeted you a “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”. You peeled open your eyes, looking up at them hesitantly as they waited for you to pull back your sweater sleeves.

“Go on, then” Renee urged, a wide smile still on her face. Your eyes darted to your father, who nodded at you in confirmation.

Here goes nothing

You peeled back your sleeve, eyes widening as you read aloud, “Harry Potter”

The room was silent, apart from your mother giggling at her husband, who stood with is mouth agape. It took him a few moments to let it sink in before he exclaimed, “Oh, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!”

You and your mother burst into laughter at his reaction, watching him go straight to the fireplace to Floo-call James Potter, screaming to him about their children being soulmates. You could barely understand a word they were saying as laughter erupted from James’ side of the call, and it looked as if Lily had joined in the conversation as well.

A knock brought you to look at the door, standing from your seat to check who it was since your parents were in the middle of a - rather humorous - conversation. You were surprised to see Harry standing in front of you, in his pajamas, as he showcased his newly-acquired mark of your name.

His eyes immediately darted towards the fireplace, recognizing the sound of his parents’ voices.

“Uhm,” You didn’t know what to say - what do you say to your soulmate anyway?. You smiled sheepishly, “My dad, uhm, called your parents as soon as we found out”

“Harry, my boy!” James’ voice rang from the fireplace, “Join us here with your soulmate, c’mon!”

Harry’s cheeks flushed as he awkwardly allowed himself in, stealing glances towards you as you both made your way over, joining both of your parents.

“You two look so good together!” Lily’s voice said through the fireplace as her face appeared.

“You’re lucky (Y/N) got Renee’s good looks, though” James teased, winking at Renee who waved him off. He laughed as Lily hit him upside the head, rubbing the spot that has become sore. “I’m only joking”

“Wasn’t false though” admitted Severus, shrugging when Renee sent him a smile - well, it was the first time he agreed with James Potter.

A few moments of silence passed between them before James Potter spoke up again, “Well then, I guess it’s proper to welcome you into the Potter family, Snivellus”

“James” Lily warned as everyone else laughed.

You couldn’t help but glance towards Harry who, to your shock, was already staring back at you, giving you a kind smile as he led you towards the table, wanting to get to know you better. Unbeknownst to the two of you, your parents had noticed your disappearance, watching you talk as you shared your cake.

“Why look at that, they’re hitting it off quickly” muttered James.

“Although, I still don’t think I like being associated with you, Potter”

“Guess you’re gonna have to deal with it then, Snivellus - our children are in love”

#Harry Potter #Harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagines #james potter #james potter imagine #james potter x reader #severus snape #draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy x reader #soulmate au

849 notes · View notes

illneverrecover · 4 years

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the sweetest thing (M) | myg

➛pairing: Min Yoongi x reader ➛genre: florist!Yoongi, baker!Reader, florist AU, baker AU, enemies to lovers, humor, smut. ➛word count: 4799 ➛rating: M ➛warnings: not too many, this is pretty sweet & soft. Heavy petting, cursing, making out, neck kissing, biting/marking, icing used in a dirty manner, implied sex, mild dirty talk, bad puns, witty banter. ➛summary: Min Yoongi was sure you moved in next door to his floral shop just to ruin him and his business. But when he needs your help, he realizes that it’s much sweeter working together then apart. ➛notes: Hehehe. My sweet little angel bb Paril requested some florist shop Yoongi E2L with baker reader, and I just had to oblige. I love writing Yoongi, he truly just is perfect for me to channel sass and sarcasm and a bit of sweetness. Thank you for commissioning me @serensama (and the kind bank of @quinnkook), I hope you enjoy this and that it’s what you were looking for! I love you tons and I’m proud to be your soulmate. 🖤 ➛song: People - AGUST D for the sweet fluff & Poison - GOT7 for the dirty dirty.

“She’s doing this on purpose.”

“No she isn’t, hyung. That doesn’t make sense.” Namjoon picks up a rose, twirling it in inspection. “Does she even know you exist?”

Yoongi scoffs then, eyes darting from the arrangement in front of him to glare at Namjoon. “Of course she knows I exist. Our shops share a wall.”

Instead of replying, Namjoon rolls his eyes before refocusing, carefully watching the stem as his hand slides the knife down it to remove any thorns. Yoongi accepts his silence as defeat, puffing his chest. “So, like I was saying - she’s doing this on purpose, and she’s going to bleed me dry.”

The door swings open then, Hoseok and Jungkook both moving to the workstations with arms full of supplies, the latter’s eyes wide as he picks up on the conversation.

“Wait! Are you talking about Y/N noona?”

“Yes, and how she’s killing business-”

“Isn’t she just the coolest?!” Jungkook interrupts, beaming over at Yoongi. “Have you seen the designs for her flower cookies? And how she’s selling twelve of them in a pack and calling them ‘coo-quets’? Get it? Like instead of-”

“Bouquets, yes Jungkook, I get the pun.” Yoongi mutters dryly, setting the finished arrangement in it’s vase and sliding it to the side. Hoseok is laughing, so hard in fact that he misses Yoongi picking up a roll of tape until it beams him in the head.

“Hey! What was that for!” rubbing his crown, he glares at the florist before reluctantly picking up the tape, fixing the customer label to the side of the vase before moving it over to the fridge. “Don’t be violent with me just because you have the hots for the pretty baker next door.”

Yoongi sputters, hand slapping the top of the table. “I do not have the hots for-”

“Yeah yeah, we know, you definitely aren’t into Y/N, at all,” Namjoon deadpans, reaching into the box for his next rose to dethorn. “You don’t find her attractive, you didn’t stalk her and pretend to be a customer just so you could see inside her business, absolutely nothing to see here.”

“Your sarcasm is noted and also not appreciated,” Yoongi sniffs, before turning away from the taller man all together. “All I’m saying is, ever since she moved into that building, she’s caused issues. And now this is how she decides to promote for the Spring Blossom festival? It feels like an attack.”

“But hyung, it’s called the ‘Spring Blossom Festival’, I think leaning towards flowers would be kind of an obvious choice, right?” Jungkook prompts, head tilting in naive innocence.

Yoongi sighs heavily, head dropping to his chest, and wonders not for the first time why he thought hiring his friends to work with him was a good idea.

Maybe Jungkook had a point; maybe they all did. But that wasn’t enough to convince Yoongi that your motives were all sincere in nature. He was telling the truth when he said that ever since you had moved in next door, things had gone haywire for his small, locally loved floral shop.

He had only been in the space for about a year, but the street it was on had picked up in popularity with a new pub and restaurant concept on the corner, and a local farmers market moving in on the weekends. Quickly, his little business grew, people coming to him when seeking unique arrangements that were both beautiful and affordable. As demand increased, so did the need to hire more hands, and his friends had been enthusiastic to join his payroll.

For the most part, things had been smooth sailing.Training the others had been relatively easy, and what shortcomings they had, he was able to find a new strength they each brought to the business. He was comfortable, thriving, going to bed with a full belly and fat wallet, and it’s all he could ask for.

Until you.

Yoongi didn’t even see you until after you had already bought and renovated the building next door, the sign for your bakery going up and accenting the coral pink of the painted brick perfectly. He had thought it was cute; how bright and cheery your shop looked, how you were always dressed in flattering sundresses and heels, despite spending your days in a kitchen baking. He walked past your place daily to get to his own, and had found himself curious about what you were like, how good your food was, how successful you’d be.

He figured the aesthetic alone would bring in some customers, if not the increased foot traffic the farmers market brought in, and he wasn’t wrong. Your soft opening had gone well, a small line forming outside the building to Yoongi’s amusement. Word of mouth worked like a charm in your neighborhood, and a steady flow of regulars would greet him on his trek into work each morning at sunrise as they awaited their breakfast pastry and hot cup of coffee.

While this was great for you, it wasn’t so good for him. Your customers would always line up in the direction where they would block his window, meaning people walking by couldn’t get a glimpse at the creations he had displayed in the windows. Not to mention the littering - flurries of light brown napkins with your logo stamped in the middle usually lining the street in front of the shops, seemingly taunting him.

And then, the festival came. The Spring Blossom Festival, to be exact.

It was clever, he’d admit that much. The word play of ‘cookie’ and ‘bouquet’, the different color options of the edible flowers painstakingly drawn onto perfectly baked sugar cookies. You had really put thought and effort into the design, and he wasn’t surprised that it seemed to be a hit, dominating the first several days of the festival.

But that didn’t mean he liked it.

He watched helplessly as his sales dipped, as customers that would’ve wanted the real thing instead switched it up for prettily decorated consumable flowers, all cooing and preening over the treats in their matching boxes.

Yoongi had to retaliate. What else was there for him to do?

After watching you hang neon pink flyers up around the street, he had made some as well, deciding he’d place them conveniently directly over your own. Matching the paper to yours had been Namjoon's suggestion, and Yoongi had thought it was genius. That seemed to bring in a few more customers, but the lull still remained, his till and bank account making it painfully apparent.

It had been Jungkook's idea to photo bomb some of your promotional pictures when he spotted you posing in front of the shop, pristine desserts in hand and a floral dress on to match. Yoongi had shook his head but ultimately agreed, handing him one of his best designed bouquets and nudging him towards your bakery. Trying to make it look natural, he strolled back and forth in the background, making sure the flowers in his hand were always towards the camera, that he looked as if he was enjoying the festival as a patron. After about the fifth pass through, the boxy lipped young man taking your pictures had scowled, shouting after him to get out of the way. You had laughed, invited Jungkook to talk with you, even posted one of the pictures with him in it on your Instagram like it hadn’t phased you at all.

Now, here he was with only two more days left of the festival - a time that he should be making double - and with nothing more to show for it. Pre-made and custom bouquets lined the shop windows, hoping to entice anyone passing by, but most remained untouched and without a home to go to.

He was desperate.

"Why don't you just go talk to her?" Hoseok interjects, an eyebrow raised. "Maybe you can explain what's happening, see if she'd be willing to help out or team up or something."

Scoffing loudly, Yoongi kicks at the ground. "Team up? You think I want to team up with her? This is a serious business I run here, you know."

Hoseok gives Namjoon a passing glance over the blonde's head, not that he notices, too stuck inside his thoughts. It's Jungkook's loud voice that breaks the silence once more.

"Y/N noona is really nice, you know. And her cookies are so yummy, I bet she would love to help us!"

"You've tried her cookies, Jungkook?!" Yoongi’s voice raises, incredulous. "This is a sudden yet inevitable betrayal, you know. It really be your own friends."

"Seriously, Yoongi. You think she's cute anyway. Might as well go over under the pretense of business and at least see if you can score her number." Namjoon deadpanned, dropping his knife and making sure to show him every ounce of pleading desperation on his face.

Yoongi ponders for a beat or two, pretending to mull it over all the while recognizing that it couldn't hurt anything to go chat with his new neighbor, introduce himself. Who knows, maybe there was a deal to be made?

You thought he was so cute, the grumpy little florist next door.

His mouth was perpetually in a pout, bottom lip upturned enough that it made him look like he was always inspecting, always exasperated. His eyes were sharp, but not in a judgmental way - more like in the way where you knew nothing went past his scrutinizing gaze, and they were offset by the soft white blonde of his hair, in the refined silver hoops that lined his ears.

Your neighbor Yoongi was a walking contradiction, and you couldn’t help but to be charmed by him.

You had heard rumors about him, heard people's worries of you moving into the building next to his very popular floral shop, but you didn't pay them any mind. You had yet to meet someone that you couldn't make a friend, and if he was impervious to your charms, he definitely wouldn't be able to deny your best coworker, Taehyung, and his infectious personality.

But despite your attempts, you always seemed to miss him, unable to properly introduce yourself when he bustled by during the morning rush, or when you were cleaning up shop. It didn't stop you from observing, from watching the way he eyed your building, the way he'd upturn his lip at the line forming outside the door at daybreak.

He seemed so easily ruffled, so annoyed but in this endearing way, and you couldn't help but want to get to know him, to see if you could get him to open up.

Especially once he started his attempts at sabotage.

They had been subtle at first - the flyer trick something you wouldn't have noticed if it hadn't been for Jin, who made sure to check and replace any torn advertisements at the end of each day. The designs had looked so similar that you didn't even double take until the elder had pointed out the word change, how the name of Yoongi's business adorned the top of the page. Jin's eyes were ablaze, but you had just laughed, instructing him to leave the ones he found alone.

But it made you more curious, further intrigued by your flower selling neighbor who took such lengths to garner business, and you couldn't help but want to see what he did next.

It had been Taehyung that grumbled about some tall dark haired boy ruining all your promotional shots, though he had smirked the whole time he showed you the images you ended up with. You recognized that he was a worker at the florist next door almost immediately, the immaculate arrangement he carried carefully in his hands striking your intuition further.

Finally, Taehyung had shouted at him, and you called the boy over to introduce himself despite his red cheeks and ducking gaze. You learned his name was Jungkook and that he was indeed a coworker and friend of Yoongi’s, and that he was just trying to help, though he wouldn't go into much more detail after that. You had chatted with him briefly, offering him a cookie for his troubles, and promised him that you weren’t mad about his attempts at photobombing.

And you were telling the truth - you really couldn't be annoyed at these attempts to thwart your advertising, instead laughing at each new picture, making sure you picked one where the bouquet was clearly visible behind you as you held an open box of 'coo-quets'.

It isn't hatred, you don't think, that drives your neighbor to do this, but you aren't quite sure where to go from here. He still hadn't introduced himself, and with how busy things were during the festival, you hadn't found the time to do the same either, working long hours to keep afloat with your orders and walk-ins. You wanted to ask him why he was so annoyed with you, what he had against your little bakery, but you told yourself there would be time for that later when the heat died down.

Not to mention, Taehyung had been chomping at the bit for an excuse to go introduce himself.

"Y/N," he whined, dragging the last syllable of your name out into an obnoxious tune. "I just want to go make friends! Why won't you let me?"

"Because someone needs to run the register for these customers, Tae. Jin and I are elbow deep in cookie dough, and Jimin can't run both sides of the counter himself."

The tall man sulks, bottom lip jutting out as his caramel hair flops into his face. "You have a point, I guess. But once the festival is done, I'm going to go introduce myself and invite them over for coffee."

You smile at him then, eyeing him from the corner of your vision as your hands continue to delicately trace colored icing on the cookies in front of you. "That sounds like a deal, Tae."

"Oh! Me too though!" Jimin shouts, turning from the counter to glance into the kitchen of your shop. Normally you'd have the doors to the kitchen closed, but with the day about to start, it made it easier to prop them open while you ran back and forth between the two stations. "I want to go say hi too. They look like really cool guys!"

I'd have to agree, you thought to yourself, picturing the sharp eyed man in your mind, but you stay silent.

To say you were startled when you heard a knock at the back door would be an understatement, even more so when you saw who it was - Yoongi, the pouting florist, blonde hair flopped into his face. He was wearing a fluffy white sweater, a dark green apron tied around his neck and waist, and his sleeves pushed up to his elbows, like he had been prepping for hours - much like you.

With a single look, you shooed the other men out of the kitchen to the front, opening the door to your guest.

"Well hey! You must be Yoongi, I'm-"

"Y/N."

"Oh, I didn't know you knew who I was!" you smile warmly, gesturing for him to step into the kitchen.

"Well, I had seen you move in, of course. Plus, Jungkook hasn't shut up since he met you," he mutters, shaking his hair out of his face as he took several steps inside. "He's like a stray cat, you know. Once you feed him, he's your friend for life."

That made you laugh, a hand rising to cover your mouth, and you couldn’t help the smirk that follows. "Well, he was too cute not to feed. Is that why you're here? Are you another stray who would like to be fed?"

Yoongi’s cheeks flush then, a dusty red that you think would look perfect in the petals of a rose, and you promise yourself to try to recreate it in frosting later.

“Ha, that’s funny,” he clears his throat, hand coming to rub at the back of his neck. “Actually, I was coming to talk to you to see if we could make an arrangement, you know - as one business owner to another.”

“Is that so?” you raise a brow, hands resting at your hips. “And what kind of deal would that be?”

You're surprised at how honest Yoongi is when he explains his situation, lays his hardships bare before you right there in the stuffy heat of your kitchen. He does manage to at least look a little embarrassed when he admits what he did in order to ramp up business, and you can’t stop your heart from softening as he finishes his request, wringing his hands as he looks at you expectantly.

“So, what you’re saying is - you want to work together, make something that the festival goers will love but will help both of our shops - is that right?”

He stands tall then, shoulders rolling back as his gaze pierces through your own. “That’s right. Think of it as a ‘I’ll scratch your back if you scratch mine’ type of deal.”

“Is this another cat analogy?”

Yoongi groans, and you giggle at the roll of his eyes.

“I already regret this.”

Stepping closer, you peer up at the florist, watching the way his eyes widen at your proximity. “No, you don’t. And technically I think I’m doing all the scratching here, but that’s okay. I think we could make a good team, Min Yoongi.”

The event is crowded, more so than Yoongi could have ever imagined.

The tables he and you had placed in front of both buildings were stuffed with goods, the heads of your coworkers ducking back inside each entrance to refill them when they got low. Customers were milling about; some taking in the offerings, others lining up in wait to purchase, and the sheer number of people had Yoongi grinning widely.

It was your idea, of course - to offer up a half dozen flowers with a half dozen of cookies, the perfect set. That isn’t to say Yoongi didn’t help; the concept of decorating the tables and dressing formally to stand out being his own, as well as offering to match the flowers and cookies to each other. The red roses and pair set cookies were flying off the shelves fast, but so were the purple calla lilies and pink tulips, which made him smile.

You had been more enthusiastic with the plan, gladly altering the designs of your ‘coo-quets’ to match, and it was clearly a smash hit. Yoongi thought back to how easily it had been to talk to you, to be honest, to spill his guts - how quickly you were willing to help, how natural it had been to form a plan, to laugh with you, and he felt his heart squeeze painfully in his chest.

Yoongi was thrilled with the sales and popularity, of course, but found himself distracted despite the success. He was happy to see his employees grinning and getting along with your own, glad to see the till fill knowing that he’d be able to pay everyone on time, but more than anything, he was ecstatic to see you smile, to see you shine in the sunset pink summer dress that was brushing the tops of your knees.

He himself had donned some light grey dress pants with a white button down, the sleeves carefully rolled to expose his forearms, jacket long forgotten in the heat of the outdoors. You had beamed at him when he first arrived, nodding approvingly at his attire, and he couldn’t help the pride that swelled in his heart at your approval.

And now as the day wore on, every time his elbow knocked into yours, your bodies stepping and swaying as you worked, Yoongi felt a heat build; a sizzling lick of electricity that was sparking between the two of you that he couldn’t ignore.

“You know,” he leans in, mouth inches from your ear as you grin widely at a customer. “I think we do make a pretty good team, Y/N.”

He relishes in the way your skin warms, in the way he watches your cheeks blush so prettily at his words, and feels hopefulness tighten his chest.

“We do, Min Yoongi, especially now that you aren’t actively trying to ruin me.” You grit between frozen teeth, your smile unwavering until the patron is out of hearing range.

“Hey, I didn’t try to ruin anything-”

“Okay, how about ‘mildly inconvenience’ then?”

Chuckling, he raises an arm to rub at the back of his neck, and you follow the lines in his arm as he does so, watching the rippling of muscles beneath the cuff of his rolled up sleeve with interest.

“I guess that’s fair.”

It was amazing how well things turned out, how fast the day had blown by. Jin had slaved away in the kitchen making sure that there were enough baked goods for everyone, Jimin and Taehyung teaming up with Jungkook and Hoseok from the florist shop to run items back and forth and greet customers.

But it was Yoongi who had stolen the air from your lungs and any sense you had left rattling in your head.

You could see now why his business had flourished before you arrived, why the customers continued to return to him when they needed their next arrangement. He was such a good and intent listener, his eyes sharp and focused on whomever was speaking to him. Even in the case of the event, where the flowers were pre-arranged, he still listened, shook and held the hand of each buyer as they spoke, fawning over his flowers.

It was evident he was passionate about his business, which made the fact that he had been willing to do whatever it took - including partnering up with you - even more admirable.

The sun was going down by the time things seemed to slow, your hands aching from the intricate icing work and feet throbbing from running around in heels. It seemed that everyone had satisfied smiles of hard work etched on their faces, and pleasant adoration inflated your gut at the sight, especially when you landed on Yoongi.

The edges of his mouth had finally relaxed, his eyes creasing into half moons more and more as he laughed, stress leaving his body. It was a beautiful sight, if you could admit such a thing.

When the final customer waved goodbye, heading down to the main street for the firework finale of the festival, you left the giddy boys out front to begin cleaning, bones aching at the prospect of all the dishes that needed to be done, but not wanting to drag out the pain any longer than necessary.

“Need some help?” Yoongi was posed in the doorway, arm pressing against the jam, one leg crossed over the other, as if it was normal for him to be effortlessly handsome in sweaty bakery kitchens.

“That would be great,” you smirk, tilting your head. “I wash, you dry?”

And so that’s how you find yourself alone with Yoongi, sweat dotting his hairline as he gives you side glances and small talk over drying mixing bowls. You talk about everything and nothing, conversation flowing freely, and you feel drunk on his proximity, on the way he talks with his hands, the way his voice pitches when he laughs. His white button down is transparent in the spots where water had hit, and even the hint of a peak of his skin made you feel a bit dizzy.

“Thank you for helping me with all of this, by the way. It would have taken hours to do by myself.”

“It’s no big deal. Plus, I’m sure one of those guys out there would’ve came back if you batted your lashes,” he leers, nodding to indicate the young men of both businesses that were currently playing around out front. “Especially Jungkook. He’s been all ‘Y/N noona this, Y/N noona that’ ever since he met you.”

Handing him a dish, you look up at him through your lashes, blinking coquettishly. “Well, can you blame him? I mean, just look at me. All this and I can cook? I’m the full package.”

You were joking; a teasing lilt to your voice as you refocused on the task at hand, but you could feel the intensity of his stare heating you thoroughly, forcing you to meet his eyes once more.

“You really are,” he murmurs, voice low but clear, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “You’re funny and talented and so smart that it’s kind of intimidating,” he looks back at the pot in his hand, drying it thoroughly before setting it aside. “But you’re also kind hearted, and willing to listen and help those in need, even when you barely know them.”

He turns then, stepping closer until his breath is fanning across your cheek, his arms caging you to the sink as you turn to face him fully.

“Not to mention, you’re more beautiful than any flower I’ve ever seen.”

Dropping your head to stifle the giggles, you hear him wince loudly.

“That was pretty cheesy, huh?”

Nodding, you meet his eyes once more. “It was, but I have a few baking puns that will make you cringe.”

“Hit me with one.”

Raising on your toes, you lean into him, tentatively placing a palm on his chest. “Is that a baguette in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

His shoulders start shaking before he lets out a loud laugh, smile widening to show his teeth in a way that made your heart flip. Catching his breath, he sighs, leaning to rest his forehead against yours.

“Hmm, I don’t know. Wanna find out?”

Kissing Min Yoongi was a whirlwind, a focused intensity pressed in a powerful dance of his mouth on yours. Your lips answered in kind effortlessly, needing no prompting to follow his lead, to pull his bottom lip between your teeth. Electricity sparks at the base of your skull with each touch of his pout, each lick of his tongue into your mouth, and you feel your knees threaten to give out as he cradles your jaw in his hand, holding you in place.

You aren’t sure when your hands had tangled in his hair, or when he had lifted you to straddle his waist, but you found yourself moving, his body twisting to place you on the cool metal surface of your work space. Hissing as the chill bit into your bare legs, you seek the warmth of his mouth harder, legs wrapping around his form to tug him closer to you, to grind your center against him.

He’s hard, impossibly hard, and he’s whispering all the things he wants to do to you in the shell of your ear, promising all the things he’ll make you feel with his tongue, his cock. You pull him back to your mouth, kissing him deeper, gasping when he dips his finger in the open icing container on the table, dragging it from the edge of your lips down to your chest.

He trails down your throat, sucking and nipping a marked path to your collarbone, licking the frosting off as he goes - as if it was the sweetest thing - until he reaches your breasts, cupping them. As you pant out groans of his name, you can’t help but think you’re glad that it’s Yoongi who’s hiking your dress up around your waist, that he is the first man to help you defile your quaint bakery’s kitchen, filling it with moans.

It isn’t until you stumble out just shy of an hour later hand in hand with Yoongi, smelling of sex with mussed hair and lips swollen, that you remember your coworkers - and that little window that shows the spacious floor plan of said kitchen.

Taehyung is shaking his head, tsking quietly with his arm draped around Jungkook. “Shame on you, Y/N. Poor Kookie here was just trying to bring the tables inside to be helpful, and instead he got traumatized.”

Namjoon scoffs then, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t realize ‘getting a boner’ was now considered trauma.”

“Hey!” Jungkook yells, eyes darting between you and Yoongi. “You said you wouldn’t tell!”

Cheeks flushing, you stifle a giggle once more, looking over to the blonde man whose fingers were still intertwined tightly with your own. Instead of embarrassment, or concern, you just feel a giddy flush of joy as you lean into him.

Yoongi sighs, exasperated, free palm rising to rub at the back of his neck. “Remind me again why I don’t fire them?”

“Because you love them. And, they work for cheap.”

Chuckling, he turns towards you, leaning in to press his forehead against yours. “I always knew I liked you.”

1K notes · View notes

babybuckleys · 3 years

Text

i don't know you yet - spencer reid.

summary: soulmates. they exist right? y/n and spencer live their daily lives doing activities that slightly coincide with each other until they meet.

word count: 1.2k.

warnings: mentions of season eight spoilers, mentions of angst.

a/n: hi! I've had this idea for a while and since I haven't written in a bit here it is. hope you guys like it, enjoy!

Taglist (in bio): @ilovejjmaybank @laurenairay @hotchsbabygirl @187-reid @simonsbluee @baby-bearie @callllumhood @5sos-seavey @notphilosopherstudentblog-moved @dermuffvontausendjahren @fanficscuziranout @katexrichardson @sluttytears @thelukealvez @cooper-boom @edmundspevensea

tagging my cm buddy. @npatrickz

(*credit to gif owner*)

Many people imagine their dream person or think of the person they want to date or marry from a young age. Y/N remembered going to sleepovers and her friends talking about how they wanted a boyfriend with blue eyes and blonde hair or brown hair and brown eyes. But when Y/N's turn came around she always said the same thing "I don't care what they look like as long as they are the right person for me." And that's when the game would end. Because twelve year olds could not fathom that everyone had their person and at some point they'd meet and everything would work out. Her mindset was set as growing up her mom would always tell her the same story. When I met your dad I just knew she'd say.

Spencer was the same way. Always being busy with work he didn't have time to go out on dates and spend time with people. He just hoped that one day the right person would come. I mean after what happened with Maeve who he strongly believed was his soulmate he didn't really see a point in trying to move on. He always said it was too soon.

Too soon. Two words that circled both of their brains. Too soon to date. Too soon to go out and put themselves out there. Why put yourself out there when you could stay locked up in your house where you were comfortable.

Spencer's head buried in cases and files while Y/N had her head buried in the latest book. They weren't that different to begin with. Maybe some person out in the universe made it this way. Hoping that one day two people who have had their heart broken and taped so many times would bump into each other.

The day would finally come. Well not exactly the day that they magically fell in love. But the day that they were in the same spot at the same time.

?Y/N had a tradition. Coffee every single Monday because well to be honest Mondays sucked. You know those people that take their sugar with coffee. Yeah Y/N was one of them.

Spencer had decided to stop by the coffee shop a few minutes away from his apartment. Deciding that a small detour would be nice. I mean a different type of coffee would be nice even though of course his coffee taste was more sugar than coffee.

~~~~

"Thomas please just a bit more sugar, you know that's not enough." Y/N asked the barista who slowly had become her friend to kindly add more sugar to her coffee.

"Y/N this is a disgrace how do you call this coffee." The barista said as he added more and more sugar until a small mountain piled up on the top.

"And that is why I love you Thomas." She said as she grabbed the coffee and headed toward the exit.

Spencer had heard the altercation as he waited in line for his coffee and chuckled. Wow if he could meet this person he knew they would for sure get along.

~~~~

Spencer and the BAU had been working on a case. It was a tough one to crack. Only a few minutes away from Quantico but with little to no clues they knew it would be a hair puller.

They had one neighbor as a witness and some history about the victims. Other than that they had zilche as Garcia would say.

Alex decided to go talk to the witness as Spencer worked on the geographical profile and the others went through looking for overlaps in the other victims.

As soon as Blake walked up to the door a person no older than Spencer opened the door.

As she guided Blake to the couch, careful to pick up the scattered books all around her living room, embarrassed to have someone from the FBI see her living room like this.

"You have a vast collection of books here." Blake said attempting to make conversations before getting to the point.

"Yeah I love reading." Y/N spoke up.

"I'm quite the reader myself." As Blake looked at the small living room she couldn't help but notice the similarities between the girl in the kitchen and Spencer. Scratch that. You were so similar to Spencer that it was like an exact replica.

~~~

Y/N did not expect to be spending her Wednesday afternoon with someone from the FBI but since her next door neighbor had been murdered she was now a part of it.

"Can you tell me what you saw." The agent sat in front of her.

"Well Mrs. Smith always is asleep by eight so i found it kind of odd that her lights were on after midnight. I was getting ready to open my door and check on her when I heard a thump. Then I looked through my peep hole and saw a man run across. He had a mask on. But he dropped it. I got a paper towel and placed it on my counter before calling the police."

"Wow that helps us more than you know." Alex was quite impressed by how much information the witness was actually able to provide.

"Yeah well anything to help find who did this." Y/N smiled at the agent.

"Well we'll call you if we need anything more, thank you for all your help."

~~~~

After arriving back at the station and giving an update on what she learned Alex suggested that Spencer go talk to the witness.

"I think he can maybe find out more since they are closer in age."

"Well that doesn't sound like a bad idea." Rossi spoke up.

Spencer not really having a problem with it headed over to your place. As he knocked he heard a familiar voice respond. He wasn't sure where but he knew that he knew you from somewhere.

"Hi uhm i'm Spencer Reid im with the FBI."

"Oh hi uhm you're partner was just here, did you guys learn something new?"

"Oh no just another check up."

"Oh ok, come in. I was just making coffee, would you like some?" Y/N looked at the attractive agent in front of her.

"Yeah coffee is good."

As soon as Spencer walked in he saw the extensive book collection in the corner. Ranging from romance to mystery to autobiographies.

"Favorite book?" Y/N asked as she poured the coffee eyeing the boy that was taking such an interest in her book collection.

"Oh i'm not sure I can pick. I mean there are so many genres." Spencer smiled feeling comfortable with the conversation.

"I agree with you." Y/N said as she poured sugar into her coffee.

As she poured the sugar it's like something clicked in Spencer's mind. Her voice, the coffee smell, the unhealthy amounts of sugar. The girl from the coffee shop. The one he so wanted to have a conversation with.

He grabbed the sugar and as Y/N saw him pour it she smiled. Everyone she knew always said the amount she poured was ridiculous but here stood a boy in front of her who did the same thing as her. And as Spencer took a sip of his coffee he knew that he could finally have that conversation he so much wanted. And as he did he felt much happier then he had in the last few months.

#ari speaks #criminal minds #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #ari writes #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fics #cm fics #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid x reader

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 3 years

Text

The Love Yet Known Part 3

Summary: Tommy Shelby needs to make sacrifices to ensure the safety of his family. So he concocts a plan to marry off his sister to the one and only Alfie Solomons.

Late that summer after everything was settled with Luca Changretta, Tommy invited Eliza and Alfie to visit Arrow House in Warwickshire. Since Tommy was the one who initiated it, he figured it would be a nice, quiet few days. Charlie clearly missed his aunt dearly. The little boy was used to always having her around to entertain him. He always asked after her and became cross when Tommy said she was married, that’s why she didn’t live with them anymore.

“Well, when is she not going to be married?” Charlie would ask.

Tommy just chuckled and shook his head. “I don’t think there will ever be a day when that happens, my boy.”

No one was blind to the growing affection Eliza and Alfie had from their wedding day on. In fact, it was quite a sight to see when the two were together. Such a shy thing like Eliza had a calming effect on Alfie, who rarely seemed to be in a sour mood when she was around. Likewise, he seemed to bring Eliza out of her shell a little bit. She had many friends in Camden and found herself more active in the community than she ever imagined she would be.

Tommy never gloated, well he tried not to, but he liked to boast about how he made the match between Eliza and Alfie.

Still, Arthur and a few of the other Peaky boys were having a hard time accepting Alfie into their sacred spaces. They considered him their sister’s husband, not a brother-in-law. They had a petty habit of writing to Eliza and addressing it with her maiden name. Arthur felt sick to his stomach if he saw his dear sister’s name next to a name like Solomons.

Alfie wasn’t very hospitable either. He wouldn’t let go of old habits of trying to rile Arthur up. He only ever invited a few of Eliza’s family members to visit them in Camden. None of them even knew the married couple shared a beachfront home in Margate. Alfie would shudder to think if the Shelbys got an idea of inviting themselves over for a holiday.

But all things considered, life was going well.

~~~~~~~

Alfie helped Eliza out of the car. “This place gets bigger every time I visit; I swear it does.” He muttered.

His wife laughed softly. “Well, hopefully, you don’t get lost.”

Charlie came running outside to greet his aunt. “Auntie Liza!”

“Hello!” Eliza beamed and stooped down to pick her nephew up.

“Oh, love, be careful.” Alfie winced. It was a good thing Eliza wasn’t easily irritated. Because once Alfie found out she was pregnant, he became overprotective. He insisted on carrying things for her, let her sleep in as long as she liked, and had someone come in to take over any housekeeping duties that she might’ve done. Not that Eliza was keen on keeping anything clean anyway. Alfie knew he was being annoying, but he wanted to make sure that his child and the mother of that child was well kept. He felt it was his duty to ensure their safety and health.

Charlie gave Alfie a side-eye. “Hi, Uncle Alfie.” He said in a less jovial voice.

“You well, Charlie?”

“Mhm.” The little boy shrugged.

Eliza set him down and reached for her suitcase but Alfie stepped in. “I’ve got it. Go on ahead.”

She gave him a kiss on the cheek and followed Charlie inside to find Tommy.

~~~~~~~~~

At dinner that night, it was just the four of them. Tommy, Lizzie, Alfie, and Eliza. They chatted casually about things, nothing too consequential. Then, during dessert, Eliza felt it was a good enough time to tell them.

“So, Alfie and I have news.” Eliza reached for her husband’s hand under the table and gave him a smile.

“You’re pregnant.” Tommy finished for her.

Alfie’s brow furrowed. “And what on Earth gave you that impression?” He snapped. He knew how important and special it was for Eliza to tell everyone about the baby, so Alfie was a bit ticked off that Tommy had affectively ruined the moment.

Tommy glanced up from his whiskey glass. “Am I wrong?”

“Well…no.”

“But how did you know?” Alfie asked again.

“Because of the way you’ve been acting around her. Anyone could tell if they’ve known you long enough, Alfie.” Tommy answered casually. “I haven’t seen her carry anything at all today.”

Eliza just chuckled. “Well, I didn’t know we made it that obvious.”

“You and I will have a lot to talk about then,” Lizzie spoke up.

“Why? Oh…oh really?” Eliza’s eyes lit up. “You’re pregnant?”

The two sisters-in-law got up to hug one another. Surely it was special knowing there was someone else walking a similar path. After all, it’s not like their husbands knew what it felt like.

“Well, seems we’ll be coming around much more often then, Tom.” Alfie sighed. Well, if his wife was happy, then he would drive her back and forth from London to Warwickshire as many times as she liked.

~~~~~~~~~

Lizzie gave birth to Ruby when Eliza was still seven months along. Seeing and holding the baby girl in her arms was such a lovely occasion. It was almost like a hint at what was to come. It would be much more surreal though, that’s what Lizzie told her.

“It’s so strange holding her. All of a sudden, you’ve got this little life. One you’ve waited so long to hold and she’s yours to care for and love. It’s really overwhelming.” Her sister-in-law tried to explain as best she could.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Now all there was to do was wait a little longer. The nursery was all set up and ready. Meanwhile, the midwife was on call whenever the first signs of labor came.

In the blistering cold of February, Eliza was due any day. Alfie started to work from home just in case she went into labor and he needed to be there for her. He didn’t get out of bed as early, but he was awake much earlier than his wife on most mornings.

It was a peaceful time where he could just bask in the warm feelings of holding his beloved wife close to him, all cuddled up in bed. Cyril keeping their feet warm at the end of the bed. His soft breathing sometimes syncing up to Eliza’s heartbeat.

Alfie would wrap an arm around her waist, resting a hand over her swollen stomach. There, he could feel his child kicking. The emotions that overcame him when he felt that little pressure against his hand were indescribable. He was thrilled, excited, nervous, afraid. He didn’t know how he would measure up as a father. Didn’t know how his line of work would impact the life of his child.

Every possible worst-case scenario had run through his head since Eliza told him she was pregnant. His worst fear was losing her and the baby. Or losing the baby and having to cope with their shared grief. Or losing Eliza and having to be a single father while grieving his wife.

The possibilities kept him up at night, practically driving him mad with anxiety. But then there were the good thoughts. The joy he would feel when he first held his child. The pride of seeing every milestone from first words to first steps.

It was overwhelming to think about and it didn’t help that the wait was making him even more anxious.

~~~~~~~~~

But finally, the day came when Eliza gave birth to a healthy baby boy. It was a relief to hear that his wife and son were both going to be perfectly fine. As Alfie climbed the stairs to see them, he felt his hands trembling with anxiety and anticipation.

What if he did something wrong?

What if Eliza thought he wasn’t a good father?

What if he just wasn’t enough?

All the self-deprecating thoughts seemed to vanish into thin air when he saw his son swaddled in his mother’s arms.

Eliza gave her husband a tired smile. “He’s beautiful, Alfie.” She whispered with tears in her eyes.

Alfie walked over to the bed and peered over. “Fucking hell, look at all that hair, aye?” He chuckled with tears welling up in his eyes as well. “Look at him, he’s about as perfect as you can get, ain’t he?” He kissed Eliza’s forehead. “I can’t ever repay you for giving me such a perfect gift.”

“I think you can with a few dozen nappy changes.” She teased back.

“Done deal.” He grinned and gently cradled his son’s head.

“You can hold him.”

Alfie’s nerves pricked at him again as he sat down on the edge of the bed. Eliza gently placed the newborn in his arms, looking over him with such fondness.

“There you are.” He said softly. “Been waiting quite some time for you, mate.”

Eliza rested her cheek on her husband’s shoulder as he spoke to their son. “What should we name him?” She asked.

They had passed around a few names over the course of her pregnancy but none of them particularly stood out to either of them.

“How about Asher?”

“Is that Jewish?” Eliza asked.

Alfie nodded. “Means blessed. Was one of the twelve tribes of Israel, back in ancient times.”

She smiled. Truly, she felt blessed. Not just by the birth of her son, but by everything. She had found her soulmate, fell in love with him, married him, and now produced such a beautiful little boy. Her heart felt so full in her chest. “I love it. I think it’s absolutely perfect.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A month after Asher was born, Eliza brought up the idea of bringing him to Warwickshire to meet her family. Tommy was apparently arranging a dinner to bring the whole family together. That way they could catch up on things without being busy with work and the children could all see their cousins.

Alfie bristled at the idea. It was one thing to spend a couple of days with just Tommy and Lizzie. But to be around the whole Shelby family, it was not a pleasant thought. He almost felt as if he’d be alone, surrounded by people who didn’t quite trust him. People he didn’t really trust either.

“Won’t be a pleasant trip, tryna get there with a newborn.” He thought of the mistake on the fly.

“It’ll be fine, it’s not too far and I’m sure Asher will sleep the whole way there. If he doesn’t then it isn’t the end of the world.” Eliza assumed her husband was just concerned about the baby’s sake.

“Dunno…”

“Then maybe we invite everyone here. It’ll be a little crowded but we’ll make it work.” She suggested to eliminate the idea of traveling.

Having the Shelbys in his space, his territory was an even worse idea. “Tommy’s place is big enough, we ain’t gonna have that many people over here.”

“So…” She looked at him. “Then we’ll go to Tommy’s.”

Alfie didn’t want to outright say he didn’t want to be around her family. He was afraid it might break her heart. But he wasn’t going to pretend that it was a joy to be around them either. He stifled a groan, feeling backed into a corner for sure. “I mean…if it’ll make you happy, love.”

“I want to see Ruby and I want everyone to meet Asher.” She replied, able to hold her ground against him when she chose to. “So yes, it would make me happy.”

There was no arguing that. His wife’s happiness was one of the few things that mattered to him. “Alright then, we’ll go. I won’t be a bother about it.” He promised, earning a smile and a kiss from him.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Asher slept through most of the car ride over to Warwickshire. Eliza appeared happy to be seeing her family and to introduce them to her son.

The sun was starting to set as they entered the estate. Alfie felt on his guard as he walked in beside Eliza, already hearing the colorful language coming in from the parlor. There was laughing and yelling coming from upstairs, most likely the children playing with one another.

Polly saw them coming in first and rushed over to embrace her niece. “Look at you. Motherhood suits you, my dear.” She turned to Alfie who was holding his son. “And there he is. Looks very healthy. You must be very proud, Alfie.”

“Yeah.” He smiled slightly. Leave it to Polly to get on his good side even when he was tense. “He’s a lot of work, ain’t he, but it’s rewarding.”

Polly could see the hesitation in Alfie’s eyes. He was holding Asher protectively to his chest, his eyes scanning across the room almost looking for potential threats. She decided he would have to warm up to the idea of handing his son over for anyone to hold.

Eliza didn’t appear to catch onto her husband’s discomfort. “Alfie, I’ll take him.”

“S’alright, love. I don’t mind.”

“Well, let Polly hold him for a bit.” She suggested.

“It’s alright,” Polly replied gently to her niece. “You two make yourselves at home. I’ll get you a drink, love. Alfie would you like something?”

“No, thank you.” He replied a bit relieved that Polly hadn’t pushed the matter.

But then Arthur swooped in and gave his sister a bear hug. “Glad you came, chey.”

Eliza giggled and hugged him back. “Hi, Arthur.”

“Good to see ya. Now, where’s the little one, aye?” The eldest Shelby’s eyes settled on Alfie with a look of slight distaste.

Eliza stepped in to try and keep the atmosphere light and festive. “This is Asher, he just turned a month old.” She reached over to adjust the little cap on the newborn’s head. His dark hair was sticking out from underneath it.

“A month already.” Arthur shook his head. “Well, wish we could’ve been there earlier.” He gave his brother-in-law a stern look. As if Alfie was purposefully keeping Eliza hidden away in Camden Town to keep her away from her family.

“Arthur…” She sighed. But it was too late. The powder keg had already been lit.

“Well, mate, it weren’t the easiest delivery. Eliza had to take a bit of time to recover.”

“If Pol had been there like she wanted then maybe it wouldn’t have been so difficult.” Arthur wasn’t standing down from the challenge. In fact, he welcomed a reason to argue.

“Arthur, that’s enough.” His aunt interrupted. “We’ve had this discussion before but it’s over. The baby’s already born.”

But neither man listened to a voice of reason. “She had the best midwife in Camden Town there. Are you insinuating I wouldn’t get the best for me wife?”

“I’m saying you’ve been keeping our sister from seeing her family.”

“She’s got a mind of her own, mate, she can go wherever she wants whenever she wants.” Alfie crossed his arms over his chest.

“Please, will you two just stop?” Eliza begged.

“Did she have a choice when Tommy sold her off to you?” Arthur’s voice raised and Eliza knew she had to step in before the rest of the party started to take notice of the brewing storm between her brother and husband.

“Alright, enough. You two are making a scene and it’s ridiculous.” She took Asher from Alfie’s arms when he was caught off guard and handed the baby to Polly. Before her husband could protest, she grabbed his arm and dragged him into another empty room of Arrow House.

“You’re just going to leave him?” Alfie spat.

“With my aunt who I trust with my life? Yes!” She snapped in an exasperated tone. “What on Earth has gotten into you? I thought this would be a nice visit, I didn’t think I had to tell you to be on your best behavior. But apparently, I should’ve because you’re acting like a child!”

“Your brother started it!” His normally soft-spoken wife gave him a death glare. Alfie backtracked when he realized the childish response was exactly what Eliza was talking about. “I’m sorry.” He mumbled. “I just don’t like him treating me that way. Like I’m some monster who kidnapped you.”

“Oh, Alfie.” She sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him close. “You know Arthur and you know that’s not true. You’ve given me everything and I’ve never been so happy. But we can’t make them see that. If they don’t see it then that’s their fault.” She kissed his cheek. “We know the truth.”

He grumbled. Of course, she was right, seldom was she wrong. It just didn’t help that when they went back to the party, Arthur would still be the same. “M’trying, love.”

“I know you are.” She smiled. “They’re difficult. But you are too.”

He chuckled. There was no arguing that.

“But now Asher is sort of a buffer. You just have to let them hold him.”

Alfie looked disgruntled. He knew intuitively that none of the Shelbys would bring harm to the child. But there was still that protective instinct that he could never totally shake. If he let his guard down, bad things happened. The only time that wasn’t the case was when he was alone with Eliza and Asher. That quiet space where everything good in the world seemed to line up. Nothing outside of their warm home mattered.

“Alright.” He relented. It seemed reasonable that if he played along, the sooner they would be out of there.

Eliza smiled and kissed him softly. “Try to enjoy yourself.” She said before going to return to the party.

~~~~~~~~~

Alfie followed and found Polly was still holding Asher. But Ada and Lizzie were cooing over the baby. Tommy was sat next to his aunt, holding Ruby and smiling at his new nephew. Even Arthur was nearby smiling at Asher.

Alfie did his best not to hover even when his son was passed from relative to relative. It seemed to make Eliza happy to see her family holding her newborn. She spoke proudly about him. The meaning of his name, his blue eyes, how much Cyril adored him, and everything else that had happened in his short life.

After a while, Alfie began to relax slightly. Although he always kept an eye out to see who was holding Asher.

Toward the end of the night, his son was finally placed back in his arms. Asher was fast asleep despite the Shelbys having a good time with a good amount of alcohol. Alfie gently touched his cheek with his thumb. “They can be exhausting, aye?” He murmured quietly. “Better get used to it I suppose. Don’t think they’re going anywhere.”

Asher yawned and shifted slightly in his swaddle.

Alfie glanced up when he heard someone clear their throat. Arthur was standing nearby, a glass of whiskey in hand. “Mind if I sit?” He gestured to the empty armchair near the sofa Alfie was sitting on.

“Ain’t my house, mate.”

Arthur shrugged and sat down. “So, how does it feel, aye? Must get no sleep with him. And Liza, I doubt she ever gets up. Would take a train to wake her when she was younger.”

It was a strange olive branch but Alfie chuckled. “Yeah, it’s tough tryna get her up to nurse him. S’alright though. Never been a big sleeper myself.” He admitted.

“Yeah, war will do that to you.” Arthur agreed after a sip of whiskey.

They were so similar, it was a wonder that they butted heads so often. They were veterans with deep scars, liked to solve problems with their fists, hardly flinched at death, and yet fiercely cared about their kin. But bad blood was hard to wash out, especially in their line of work.

“I’d always be up with Billy when he was that young. It’s good, keeps your mind busy.” He added.

“They’re a good distraction.” Alfie nodded, looking down at his son. “Changes a lot of perspectives on life.”

Arthur looked across the room to see Eliza smiling at him. Of course, she’d put him up to it, insisting that if he wanted to see more of her, he would be nicer to her husband. Arthur complained but she wasn’t hearing it. It seemed that marriage and motherhood had really taught her when to put her foot down. But sitting there with his brother-in-law, Arthur seemed to realize that there wasn’t much else he could do. Here they were, both fathers to a son, both husbands. They were too old to be the vicious fighters they were as young men. It was too tiring.

Alfie came to a similar conclusion. They could fight about the same things that happened so long ago. There wasn’t anything new to argue about. Just the grudges they both held. Which were equally as tiring. “Here.” He held Asher out.

Arthur looked a bit surprised but decided not to make a scene out of it. He set his whiskey glass down and cradled his nephew to his chest. “Looks like Liza when she was a baby.” He chuckled. “She had so much hair. Our mother was shocked. I hope he doesn’t cry as much as she did. God, she was noisier than John ever was.” His eyes saddened at the mention of Eliza’s twin. It felt like ages ago that they’d lost John and yet, it was still so fresh.

“That’s his middle name, you know,” Alfie said. “Asher John.”

Arthur got a little choked up. “He’d be thrilled if he was here.” He tried to laugh off his grief but it was obvious how much it hurt. “Don’t think he’d ever stop bragging about it.”

Eliza came over, so happy to see the two men getting along for the first time ever. She kissed Alfie’s temple as she sat down next to him.

A quiet lull fell over the room. The warm chatter of family radiated with the fire and drinks. Alfie felt his shoulders relax while he wrapped an arm around Eliza’s shoulders. Things could be okay if he allowed them to be. So he did.

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @biba3434 @kimmietea @karmezii @enrapturedbythemoon @vampgirl1997 @tarafaithe @evelynshelby

PB Masterlist

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomonsxoc #alfie solomonsxofc #tommy shelby #tommy shelbyxlizzie stark #polly gray #arthur shelby #lizzie stark #charles shelby #ruby shelby #oc #ofc #john shelby #season 4 #season 5 #tom hardy #tom hardy character #tom hardy fanfiction

181 notes · View notes

babyboy-cody · 3 years

Note

What about jealous Duncan 😳 over reader cause she is spending too much time with Micheal and cockwarming him while using his laptop so you hear her whimpering and Duncan is extremely jealous that she doesn’t want to spend time with him and if you want to add angst you can :-)

oh.. oh yes. this. this right here. this is art.

It was a very late night. The snow outside wasn’t letting up and sent a chill throughout the house. The sun had begun setting during 5 in the evening. It would always create beautiful warm colors in the sky; hues of orange, pink, sometimes purple. Winter was your absolute favorite season of all due to reasons like these. You adored how bright the atmosphere would get when the sun reflects from the blankets of snow. On some days, you could've sworn that the snow was sparkling. Winter also gave Michael an excuse to use the newly installed fireplace, which you both used almost every night. It also gave you an excuse to make passionate love with him. If only Duncan was home to experience it as well.

Tonight was like no other. Duncan had been away on yet another business meeting while you and Michael stayed home. You deeply missed Duncan in more ways than one; the way his scruff felt against your skin, the way his cologne overwhelmed your nostrils, the way his lips would turn into a smug grin when he was able to get you to blush, the way he would let out a loud groan when he did that type of stretch, and more. Michael and Duncan were so different from each other that you all completed one another and connected as if you've been long lost soulmates for centuries. Because of the polar opposites, your relationship has been incredibly strong and just the definition of perfection. However, you can feel it slowly come apart.

With Duncan away the entire day on his business trip, you had become so needy to the point of almost bursting into tears. You loved Michael so dearly. You looked at him as if he hung the moon and the stars. If he asked you to jump, you'd ask how high. But you missed Duncan, so very much. Michael could tell instantly. He can sense your emotions and it's incredibly overwhelming. He can almost feel your heartache and your devastation. He's not sure why, but he's beginning to come to a realization that the polyamorous relationship is slowly coming apart.

"Sweetheart?" Michael knocks lightly on your door and pushes it open gently when you call back in a small, barely there voice. When he steps inside, his heart nearly breaks at the sight. You’re sat on the ground with your back pressed against the front of your bed. You're holding a scrapbook you made for your three year anniversary on your lap with Duncan's old college sweater engulfing your body.

"Hi," you softly said and looked up at him with red rimmed eyes, glasses placed sloppily on your nose. "I thought you were working on a project."

"I was," he told you and sat down beside you, looking down at the open scrapbook. "But I missed my girl and decided to check up on her."

You blushed and let out a small chuckle as you ducked your head down to brush your thumb across the corner of the book. You stared at the picture of you, Michael, and Duncan at an office party of the brunettes during the first few months of your relationship. You had worn a deep red dress with a black shawl and black heels that made your head come up an inch over their shoulders. Duncan was wearing his signature dark and mysterious outfit, which consisted of dark slacks, a black shirt, and his favorite black leather jacket. Michael wore one of his gorgeous and expensive dark velvet suits and both men looked absolutely handsome and rich. To say the least, every single man and woman was jealous of you three.

"Remember how shit-faced drunk you were at the end of the night," Michael chuckled and pointed at the picture. "We both had to carry you out."

"Oh God," you groaned and covered your face with embarrassment. "Don't remind me. That was the worst night of my life."

You both laughed as you turned the page again. It was quiet for a few long seconds. You shuffled closer to Michael and leaned your head against his shoulder. He turned and pressed a gentle kiss to your head. You closed your eyes and let out a tired, broken sigh.

"I miss how things used to be," you whispered.

"Me too," he whispered back, feeling that ache in his heart increase when he heard your small sniffle. “We’re gonna be okay.” But will you?

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:

It’s been approximately three weeks since yours and Michael’s interaction. Since that night, your relationship has sprouted into something stronger. Your happiness has been something you haven’t felt in a while. You’re not crying every night any more. Although he works from home because of the pandemic, he still gives you endless affection and attention. It makes you feel like the first month of when you started dating. But because Michael works from home, that means Duncan works from home as well. It’s only the start of the pandemic, so you’re not sure when it’s safe to go to work again.

Duncan hasn’t noticed how your attitude changed towards him. He seemed oblivious as always. What he did notice was how your affection grew for Michael. You were always attached to him, whether it’s when you’re cooking in the kitchen with Michael, cuddling on the sofa during a movie, or even when you’re making love. You always gravitated towards Michael, regardless of whatever situation you’re in. He was confused because everything was okay. You still spoke to him and kissed him, even if the kisses you gave him were shorter. That aching feeling in his gut intensified when he heard you whimpering in Michael’s office. The door was cracked open just a few inches; enough for Duncan to see the entirety of Michael’s desk and both you and him on the chair.

He can tell the difference between your pleasure whimpers and emotional whimpers, and these were definitely pleasure whimpers. He shuffled a little closer, and sees Michael’s head barely turn, as if his senses can locate Duncan’s spot. The blonde man knows he’s watching. Duncan can see your house dress bunched around your hips and the absence of your underwear. He can also see Michael’s trousers unbuttoned as you sit upon his lap, your face buried in his neck as he continues to type away at his laptop.

“Almost done, little one,” Michael whispers in your ear, kissing your warm cheek gently as he lightly strokes the outer part of your thigh.

“That rhymed,” you giggled and shifted your hips a little, moaning softly and leaning up to look into his warm blue eyes.

“It did, didn’t it?” He lightly chuckles and and moves closer to his desk, briefly pressing your back against the edge, as well as causing his hips to buck up into yours in the process, eliciting a sweet gasp from your lips. “My apologies,” he grins like the cocky bastard he is.

Duncan can no longer hold in this building rage that was bubbling inside of him. After days of zero attention from you and Michael, he decided it was enough to dance around the unresolved issue. He pushed the door open all the way with such force, it slammed into the wall adjacent to it. The loud noise jarred you and caused you to jump in Michael’s lap, whimpering softly from suddenly being knocked out of your soft headspace. Angry Duncan was something you always hated. Michael sat emotionless as he ignored Duncan and hushed you softy.

“When you two are done engaging in your rendezvous activities, I’d like to speak to Y/N alone,” he tells the both of you, his voice low and filled with anger and jealousy. “And don’t make me wait.”

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:

You left Michael’s office a flustered mess. Your cheeks held a lively, rosy color in them. Your lips were a darker shade than usual. Your hair was a bit tousled, but still neatly kept because you’re that kind of person after having a fun time. And your panties? Oh boy, were they damp to the point of sticking to your achingly sensitive core. Michael assured you that everything was going to be alright, and that if you needed him during your talk with Duncan, he’d know. And so with a nervous pep in your step, you hesitatingly knocked on the door of Duncan’s bedroom, twiddling your thumbs to ease the frantic thumping of your heart in your ribcage. You looked behind your shoulder and at the closed door of Michael’s office just as Duncan’s bedroom door opened. Your head immediately shot ahead, and you briefly stared at his chest before lifting your head up to look at him.

You couldn’t read the expression on his face, but you could make out the sudden softness in his eyes when he sees you up close for the first time in a long time - but then it goes away in an instant. He steps aside and holds a long arm out to motion for you to come in. You do so without hesitation. He doesn’t close the door all the way, only leaving it open just a crack. You’re almost thankful for that. He sits in one of the cushioned chairs in the corner of his room, the one closest to the window. You remember how often you’d barge in and catch him with a book in his hand and a glass of scotch in the other, the sunlight pouring in and creating a halo of orange and yellow around him. You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling a little bit. It goes away soon after when Duncan clears his throat. He rubs his scruffy jaw and sighs deeply, looking far off into the distance.

“I don’t know how to put this,” he begins to say. “Do you still love me, Y/N? Does Michael still love me?”

“Of course we do,” you say in a shocked tone as you went to go towards him, but he raised his hand to stop you in your tracks. “Why would you say such a thing, Duncan?”

He laughs humorlessly. “You know, when I was a little boy, I was often ignored by the people closest to me. I was thrown into a corner like a used toy that someone got bored of. When I was twelve years old - twelve - my mother said not one, but two words to me the entire month. I didn’t even get a fucking happy birthday. But you know what’s funny, Y/N? I still pulled through.”

You stood in silence, arms crossed over your stomach for comfort. Your mouth opened and closed to say at least something to him, but nothing came out. You were rendered speechless. Duncan took notice and let out an emotionless chuckle.

“You know, I never expected you and Michael to do the same.” He sounded so heartbroken that it nearly broke yours. “I feel like that same fucking twelve year old boy all over again.”

You cleared your throat and licked your dry lips. “The only reason I’ve gravitated towards Michael more than before is because you were barely here, Duncan. You were always away and that broke me. Michael noticed it too and he helped me feel good again. It wasn’t the same as when it was all three of us, but it was something. I was happy.”

“So you weren’t happy with me?” He asks you gruffly, not meeting your eye as he stares at his empty and neatly made bed. “I’m here now and you’re still not happy.”

“You know I don’t mean it like that, Dunc,” you whispered helplessly and shook your head. “Michael has been here the entire time, even when he does have work. He made me feel loved and wanted. I just wanted you to do the same.”

“I tried,” he snapped, eyes filling with a dark rage which caught you off guard. “And you didn’t fucking let me, Y/N. You were so caught up with whatever shit you were doing with Michael to realize.”

“You were never fucking here!” You snapped back, your voice cracking as your emotions spewed from within. “It wasn’t the fucking same, Duncan. I needed you and you weren’t here.”

He laughs. It doesn’t reach his eyes. And that’s what scared you the most. Sensing your erratic fear, Michael hurriedly exits his office and makes his way to Duncan’s bedroom. In there, he feels the tension piling onto his shoulders and it’s overwhelming. Duncan barely casts him a glance from the corner of his eyes.

“Look who joined the party,” he sarcastically replies. “The man of the hour, Michael fucking Langdon.”

“Calm down before you do something stupid and that you’ll regret,” Michael warned him, slowly stepping closer to you while keeping his eyes trained on the man in front of him, whom was slowly coming apart by the minute.

“No! Fuck you, Michael. You took her from me. You took everything from me. God, I should really hate you - both of you. But I can’t!” Duncan shouted and slammed his hand against the wall beside it, causing you to jump and gasp softly at the loud and sudden noise. “I keep trying, but nothing’s working. I’m a good fucking person. I help provide for us. Nothing is ever enough, even when I am here.”

You stood silently beside Michael, the blonde man not uttering a single word as he allows Duncan to vent and spew out these withheld emotions. He needed to do this. His unspoken demons would chew him out, and most days it would be Michael’s duty to bring him back down to earth again. You were casted out of moments like these specifically because of Duncan lashing out. His brain works faster than his mouth, so whatever he says, he won’t even realize it until after.

“I-I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” his voice cracked. He looks at you and Michael with such heartbroken eyes, rimmed red and filled with unshed tears. His face contorts into one of pain and he presses the heels of his hands into his hands. “I’m sorry I made you feel unhappy. But you have to understand that I do these things to make you happy too. And it clearly didn’t work.” Then, the tears fall. He swallows down a choked hiccup, his shoulders and chest twitching painfully to catch a breath.

A lonesome tear rolls down your flushed cheeks. You take a step towards Duncan while Michael stays motionless in the spot you left him in. When you’re standing directly in front of the broken man, you reach a hand out slowly as if he were a panicked kitten hiding in a corner and lightly touched his cheek. The feeling of your skin against his is what made him officially breakdown. He couldn’t keep his cries inside anymore. Seeing your pained eyes, feeling your warm touch, smelling your sweet scent, hearing your gentle voice whisper his name - it was enough to make him fall to his knees in defeat. You followed him and desperately pulled him into your arms, allowing his head to bury itself in your neck and shoulder. Your arms soon wrapped themselves around his trembling body as he let out gut wrenching cries.

“Please don’t leave me,” he weeped helplessly, trying to catch a breath as he heavily pants and hiccups. “I can’t lose you and Michael. I can’t be alone again.”

You hush him softly and rock him gently from side to side, all the while kissing his warm and clammy forehead. Michael quietly walked towards you both and got down on his knees as well. His arm wrapped around you from behind as his hand held the nape of Duncan’s neck. Both of yours and Michael’s touch was enough to calm the hysterical man down.

“I love you, Duncan,” you whispered in his ear, making sure not to speak louder. “We love you. And we’re not going anywhere, neither are you. We’ll fix it, okay? We always do.”

“Promise?” Duncan sniffled and leaned up to look at you in the eyes, suddenly feeling that warm sensation in his chest again like the first time he laid eyes on you. He looked at Michael and felt at ease when the blonde man gave him a look of adoration. “Do you promise, Michael?”

“I promise,” you both spoke in unison, and that was enough to make Duncan feel like everything will be back to the way it was before.

#michael x duncan x reader #okay so i may have ACCIDENTALLY written this just a tad longer than it should be 👁👄👁#i missed this trio #like you guys have no idea 🥺🥺#this broke my heart #michael langdon #duncan shepherd

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