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5-falsehoods-phonated · 3 years

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March Ado About Nothing

Series Summary - A series of one-shots and drabbles written based off of prompts posted in the TSS Fanworks Collective server. The goal is to take traditional whump prompts and fill them in the least-angsty way possible every day through March.

A note that though some of these fills are written bait and switch style (written in a way you think is going in one direction but reveals it to be the opposite towards the end) they are all written in a fluffy or silly style with very little, if any at all, actual angst.

Day 2: Stuff Your Secrets

Summary: Stuffed animals are good and normal to have no matter what age you are- except for Remus. Logan quickly fixes that line of thinking.

Prompts: "Please, no more!, Extreme Weather, *Dirty Secret*

Ships: platonic intrulogical (Logan & Remus)

Warnings: mild angst, guilt for having stuffed animals. Let me know if there are!

General taglist (ask to be added or removed): @/janus-is-an-adorable-snek-boi @/im-an-anxious-wreck (in an effort to not flood your inboxes I’m only tagging in the first part ^-^)

WC: 1235

Stuffed animals, with all their innocence and connection to childlike wonder and imagination, weren’t usually something that was defined as a dirty secret someone would desperately try to hide away at all costs. Having stuffed animals was normal and useful to mental health: they were soft and plushy and you could cuddle them for comfort, they were amazing to grip onto when one was sick or in pain and, if you didn’t want to feel odd talking to yourself to work out one idea or other, you could always prop them up as a makeshift audience to listen to you infodump for hours and they would never get annoyed!

So no, stuffed animals themselves weren’t the problem, nor was having them as a fully grown and “mature” adult. The problem came because the owner was Remus, and Remus had come to learn that if he had something it was automatically thought to be something gross or dangerous or disturbing- especially if that’s not what it looked lille from the outside. He was the one that would play stupid pranks of showing someone something rather cute but have it open its mouth to reveal several jaws and a tentacle, or give someone a teddy bear the melted into foul smelling ooze when they held it. Do this enough times and be repressed for a decade or two to boot and you have a reputation that- while fair in its own right if he really thought about it- make having things that were actually innocent in nature a bit problematic if he didn’t want to be scrutinized within an inch of his life.

And so, his dirty secret remained hidden even from Janus, who Remus knew would never make fun of him or judge him for something so trivial but years of hiding made him skittish anyway. The irony of intrusive thoughts hiding something definitely wasn’t lost on him but he only shook the thought away as he continued shoving his well worn friends into a drawer in the closet while shooting a look at the clock. Logan would be coming in any minute now to help him organize a few of his projects that still needed fine tuning if he was going to show his brother any time soon; even though their relationship was still a little rocky...especially after knocking him out for an entire episode and some hateful words were said by the lighter side, they had both scraped up enough indignant reluctance to apologize and begin working together- however tentatively- on a couple different things to test the waters. And Remus wasn’t worried about it all! A second opinion from someone as observant and down to earth as Logan was never hurt was all.

He had just finished shoving everything closed and willing the closet to stay shut when there was a knock at the door. Grinning wide he sank in directly behind the logical side and opened the door from behind, making the other stiffen and then roll his eyes at Remus before walking into the room, immediately going for the desk and paying no attention to the slightly disappointed pout Remus was sporting over not getting a bigger reaction. He knew Logan was just as dramatic as any other side, he just had to find a sweet spot- maybe he’d steal his jam at some point. Appearing on top of the desk he gestured to a few notebooks strewn around.

“It’s a lot so buckle in! I haven’t had an outlet for my ideas in years!”

Logan peered at him from over his glasses. “So long as nothing is explicitly pornographic or sadistic in nature I’m willing to bet most of these will be harmless enough to include somewhere in future projects.” Screwing his mouth to the side Remus simply bounced in place, never having been able to sit still for very long especially when things were quiet. Thankfully Logan didn’t seem to mind, simply skimming through various sketchbooks and notebooks and placing flashcards to mark certain spots for whatever it was he was looking for. He jolted in surprise as something cold and gooey was pressed into his hands, looking up as Logan took his hand away and resumed his task.

“To fidget with if you like, I know sitting quietly can’t be easy but I appreciate your patience.”

Blinking in surprise Remus began idly stretching the goop around, the bright green slime enveloping his hand and sticking in a way that was oddly very pleasing as a tactile stim. He’d have to make more of this at some point and see if he could bathe in it; surely Roman wouldn’t mind one of their lakes turned into slime as long as it was for creativity's sake. He was so engrossed in the wonderful new thing he held in his hands that he didn’t hear the closet food creaking until it was too late, the overstuffed doors bursting open and spilling various items out onto the floor, multiple phallic shapes and odd body pillows were the least of his worries as he watched all of the stuffed animals he had shoved away spill out into the open in all their cute, fluffy glory. His chest constricted painfully as he shot a panicked look to Logan who was regarding the plushies waily as if they would come to life and maul him at any moment- which, while as in character as that might be- for some reason he couldn’t bear the thought of them being perceived that way.

“They’re safe I swear! Just stuffed animals I uh- there’s nothing- I just like-” His throat refused to cooperate and he was left gaping stupidly as Logan set the notebook down and stood up. “No, please!”

Remus reached out for Logan, knowing what he was pleading with him for but suddenly very aware of his racing thoughts telling him to make sure he wouldn’t get into trouble- what if he told Patton, or took them away because he wasn’t meant to have them? Or-

“I’ll be right back Remus. I promise, I’m just going to get mine.”

His? He was gone before Remus could question it as he ripped and pulled and mashed the goop in his hands nervously, wishing the other had left him with more of an explanation. He didn’t have long to wait however as Logan came back in with an armload of...something that was prompt laid on his bed. As he came closer he realized they were stuffed animals- Logan’s he guessed from the teddy bear adorned with a tie and a snail with a lab coat. But there was also a well worn fluffy purple dog, a calico cat with galaxy print for spots and a stegosaurus with a rainbow scale print on it. He looked back to Logan who smiled warmly.

“You don’t have to keep them a secret, Remus, at least not for me. I’d be a hypocrite to judge you and I’m very willing to bet the other’s would be as well.”

“Bet you my bug collection!” Remus shouted before he could think. Logan pulled a face. “I’m not trading you again- last time you didn’t say they spit acid and my desk was ruined.”

Cackling he twitched a finger and the toys were back on his bed where they belonged, though he did sneak a small squid plush in with Logan’s- as thanks.

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#false writes #fluff #mild angst #hurt/comfort mild #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #logan sanders #remus sanders #platonic intrulocal

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anotherkpopvictim · 4 years

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Seven Is Our Lucky Number - OT7 Story Chapter 6

Chapter 6: When Taehyung met Jimin

A/N: Ooh, another new pairing I haven’t written yet.

The first part is mostly crack so I’m sorry in advance lol. It was inspired by BTS reading ‘The Wizard of Oz’ on Suga’s radio festa thing which was absolutely hilarious to listen to and even better to watch because we got to see them struggling to hold in their laughter.

Relationship: BTS X BTS (Taehyung X Jimin focused)

Rating: T (Underage Drinking)

Words: 4359

WARNING: As stated, there is underage drinking in this story, so if that makes you uncomfortable then do not read.

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Today, the seven members of Bangtan were in a rented theater space to film the newest episode of Run BTS!. This time, the staff had decided to bring back the fan-favorite; skits.

Seokjin and Taehyung immediately boasted about being the best actors out of the group, to which Jungkook teasingly turned his nose up at them and replied, “I think I’ll beat you both easily, even without the experience.”

It was a surprise to absolutely no one that they were up to their usual chaotic shenanigans not even a minute into filming.

They were split up into two groups of two and one group of three; Seokjin, Namjoon and Jungkook, Hoseok and Yoongi, and Taehyung and Jimin. The staff sent them off with previously prepared scripts that appeared to all be excerpts from random plays and gave them half an hour to memorize it as best as they could.

The seven of them found out that all the scenes they were doing were romance scenes, surprisingly. Bang PD hardly ever allowed them to do any activities that could reveal their relationship to the public. The scripts also each had their own challenging aspects.

Jimin turned to Taehyung and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Well, none of us will have to worry about whether we have chemistry within our teams or not,” he commented under his breath so the mics wouldn’t pick up on it.

Taehyung snorted on a laugh.

The half-hour seemed to go by so fast and the ninety-five liners probably spent too much of it teasing each other and giggling.

The seven of them gathered together once more, prepared to put on a good performance for the fans, but also prepared to potentially cry-laugh at each other.

Namjoon, Seokjin, and Jungkook ended up performing first, after a quick game of rock paper scissors to decide the order.

The trio took the stage and explained that their challenge with their script was that it included more personal interpretation. They were given a general situation script for a scene in which a prince comes to save a princess from a menacing dragon, and the three of them definitely made it their own. One of the most obvious changes was that instead of a prince saving a princess, he was saving another prince instead.

Taehyung lost his fight with laughter as soon as Namjoon whipped out his foam sword and pointed it courageously in Seokjin’s direction. “Leave Prince Jungkook alone you filthy dragon!”

“Filthy?!” Seokjin, the dragon, exclaimed. “The only word you should ever associate with me is handsome.” He flicked his hair with a hand, nearly knocking the weird dragon head hat off of his head.

“Careful, Prince Namjoon!” Jungkook said from his spot behind Seokjin, hands and ankles tied with some silky ties. “The dragon could hurt you.”

It was all so cliche and dramatic that everyone else was in tears and holding their bellies with laughter, even some of the staff watching from behind the camera. They could tell already that this episode was going to be a hit with ARMYs.

“Don’t worry about me, my love,” Namjoon recited seriously. “I will get you away from this monster.”

“Wow, you are calling me such mean things today,” Seokjin said with a fake pout. Then he squared his shoulders and prepared himself for battle. “But it doesn’t matter, because I will just roast you with my fire and eat you for dinner! Mwahahaha!”

The ensuing battle between Namjoon and Seokjin was nothing short of a hot mess. Seokjin managed to take Namjoon’s sword within two seconds and tossed it carelessly away. They threw fake punches each other’s way that were terribly executed but only added to the laughter from their small audience in the theater.

Namjoon managed to fight his way to the sword, avoiding the dragon’s fiery breath (which was just Seokjin breathing heavily and going “blahh!”). The prince picked it up with poise and spent no time slicing it across the dragon’s throat.

Seokjin’s eyes went hilariously wide, hands going to his (unmarked) throat and holding it. “Curse you, you stupid prince!” He exclaimed in a raspy voice. He fell to the floor with as much dramatic flair as he could manage (which was a lot) and made a big show of dying.

Namjoon then turned to Jungkook, who was watching on with awe and relief. He untied his hands and ankles and as soon as they were free, Jungkook tossed his arms around the older.

“Oh, thank you, Prince Namjoon! You saved me from the evil dragon,” he praised.

Namjoon hoisted Jungkook up into his arms bridal style and smirked at the other’s genuine yelp of surprise. “No worries, my sweet prince,” he replied. “I would go to the ends of the earth to save you.”

Seokjin sat up from the side suddenly and said, “And scene!”

The rest of the members burst into generous applause. Seokjin, Namjoon, and Jungkook bowed before heading off of the stage.

“Thank you, thank you!” Jungkook sang with mock arrogance.

Hoseok and Yoongi took the stage next. “Prepare for the best acting you’ve ever seen in your life,” Yoongi warned.

“Our challenge with this was portraying the characters as close to the original as we could,” Hoseok explained as he laid himself on top of a table. Yoongi leaned on the edge of the table and grabbed the other’s hand tightly.

The scene began with a shout from the staff.

“I love you, Jack,” Hoseok started shakily.

Yoongi looked up at him with determination. “No...don’t say your goodbyes, Rose. Don’t you give up, don’t do it.”

Taehyung was a sucker for love stories like Titanic, so he was almost immediately immersed in the plot. Now he understood that the table was acting as a raft for the famous scene.

“I’m so cold,” Hoseok - Rose - mumbled weakly. “You’re going to get out of this,” Yoongi - Jack - continued. “You’re going to go on and you’re going to make babies and watch them grow and you’re going to die an old lady, warm in your bed. Not here...Not this night. Do you understand me?” “I can’t feel my body.”

“Rose, listen to me. Winning that ticket was the best thing that ever happened to me. It brought me to you. And I’m thankful, Rose. I’m thankful,” Yoongi’s words were frantic now. “You must do me this honor...promise me you will survive....that you will never give up...not matter what happens...no matter how hopeless...promise me now, and never let go of that promise.” Hoseok looked deep into the other’s eyes with sadness and longing. “I promise.” Yoongi clutched their hands together even more tightly and said with conviction, "Never let go.” “I promise,” Hoseok replied. “I will never let go, Jack. I’ll never let go.”

It was one of the staff that called “cut!” and brought everyone back to reality. They all had tears in their eyes from the surprisingly good performance.

Yoongi and Hoseok’s passionate acting was rewarded with the rest of the members and the staff giving them a standing ovation. The two of them gave dramatic bows, their cheeks pink, before letting the final team go up.

Everyone watched with anticipation as Jimin and Taehyung took their turn and headed up to the stage.

“Our performance actually doesn’t have any words to it, which was our challenge,” Jimin explained while Taehyung went off to the side to get their props.

The others were surprised when the staff handed him a giant plate of spaghetti and meatballs.

“Wait, what?” Jungkook whined loudly, “I want to eat, too!” Jin rolled his eyes from next to him and whacked the youngest in the back of the head fondly.

Jimin and Taehyung took their seats next to each other and waited until the staff called out, “And begin!”

The others watched curiously and a little disgustedly as the two of them seemed to forgo any eating utensils and instead just dug into the food with their faces.

Taehyung glanced over at Jimin with pure adoration in his eyes before diverting his attention away when the other caught his gaze. Jimin smiled shyly and continued eating.

Then, Taehyung bit his lip in thought before nosing a meatball from his side of the plate and towards Jimin’s. The older looked joyfully surprised and accepted the food, giving the other a thankful smile.

They slurped at their food for a minute while stealing glances at each other before it happened. Taehyung and Jimin both took the end of a noodle into their mouths and sucked it up like they normally would, only it quickly became obvious to the audience that the noodle was connected.

The audience watched with anticipation as the noodle got shorter and shorter, though both of them did not seem to notice it in the slightest. Then, Taehyung and Jimin’s lips were pressed together and their eyes went comically wide.

There was a sort of amazed silence within the room as their kiss turned into a long, fond peck. Slowly, reluctantly, they pulled away and grinned at each other. Jimin leaned in to nuzzle at the side of the other’s face, making everyone laugh again as tomato sauce was spread even more over both of their faces.

“And scene!” one of the staff called.

Their performance of the famous scene from Lady and the Tramp received a standing ovation from every single person in the room - staff and camera crew included. A few wolf-whistles could be heard, too (cough, cough - Yoongi and Namjoon).

Jimin and Taehyung thanked everyone humbly before everyone gathered together to finish up the episode.

Once the cameras were shut off and the group was getting ready to leave for the night, Namjoon cornered the Run BTS! director. “Do you really think Bang PD will allow that episode to be aired? Wasn’t it a little...”

“Revealing?” the director, Dawon, finished with a knowing grin. “Yes, that was kind of the point.”

The seven of them looked around at each other with looks of barely hidden hope.

“You don’t mean...” Hoseok trailed off, not finding the right words.

Dawon nodded, “Bang PD has approved of us beginning to hint at your relationship.”

Taehyung’s heart soared with happiness in his chest and he turned to share a grin with Jungkook, who was next to him.

They had always wanted to tell the world about their relationship, but they also understood that it was rather...different, for lack of a better term, and that many, many people would not take it well. Despite that, they wanted to be free to be themselves and practice the words of self-love and honesty that they preach to the world. They were ready to tell the world, but the company wasn’t (or they hadn’t been until now) and they had a very understandable reason not to be.

“It’s not all going to be as it was today,” Dawon warned, “We could get away with you guys doing more because it was technically acting, but future episodes won’t be so obvious. We’re starting little, but I hope it can make you guys happy. I know how much you want this.”

Seokjin, Hoseok, and Jimin wasted no time in pulling the director into a group hug. “Thank you, thank you, hyung! Thank you!” Jimin shouted, muffled by the man’s jacket.

Dawon had worked for BigHit for years and had known the seven of them since before their debut. When he was given the position of Run BTS! director, he became even closer to them. He always remained professional, but it wasn’t hard to see the genuine care he had for them in his gentle smiles.

Yoongi, Namjoon, Jungkook, and Taehyung joined in on the group hug happily.

Dawon chuckled and pushed them all away from him fondly, muttering something about how they were all supposed to be social distancing.

Later that night, the seven boyfriends gathered together in their apartment living room, cuddling up with each other on the couches while they enjoyed Chinese takeout and soju. A new movie Jimin and Seokjin were interested in was playing on the television, acting more as background noise than entertainment as they chatted amongst themselves.

“I can’t believe we did that today,” Seokjin said with a chuckle. “I can’t believe we were allowed to act like that today.”

“Band PD’s finally coming around,” Hoseok remarked with a joyous smile.

Jimin chuckled and asked, only half-joking, “Do you think this was somehow because of the number seven, too?”

“At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised,” Yoongi replied.

Namjoon hummed in agreement, “Me neither.”

Things quieted down for a moment, the muffled chatting from the movie like white noise. Jungkook was staring at Taehyung again, as he had been doing a lot since their night together the other day - more than he usually does, which was saying something.

Taehyung was looking anywhere but at the others, a telltale sign that Jungkook had learned over the years meant that he was lying.

“Hyung,” Jungkook elbowed him gently in the side to get his attention and leaned closer so they could speak without the others hearing them. “What are you keeping from us?”

Taehyung’s expression became filled with guilt, “Kookie...I...”

“What are you two whispering about over there?” Hoseok questioned teasingly from across the room, bringing everyone’s attention to the two of them.

Taehyung sighed and sat up, preparing himself. “Jungkook knows that I’ve been...keeping something from you guys.”

“You’ve been lying to us?” Seokjin asked cautiously as he too straightened up in his seat.

“Not lying lying,” Taehyung defended weakly. “I...It’s just something I never told you guys about.”

The others were looking around at each other with confused glances while Jungkook wrapped his arms around Taehyung. “Hyung’s been acting strangely whenever we talk about this ‘seven’ thing. Like he knows something that we don’t. I just don’t know what that could be,” he explained.

“Well, do you know anything about that?” Namjoon asked.

Taehyung bit his lip before nodding. He took a deep breath, “This ‘seven’ thing... it’s real. Like really...real. I know it is...because I was told so.”

Jimin got up from where he had been snuggling with Yoongi and Namjoon and walked over to cuddle into Taehyung’s lap. “Start from the beginning,” he prompted softly.

Taehyung nodded once more, licking his lips. “Well, it happened the day we met Jimin...”

--------

August 18, 2012

During another long day of practice at the company, Bang Sihyuk, the CEO, paid them a visit at the dance studio.

Taehyung and the others hastily bowed respectfully, but the older man waved them off. “I’ve got some good news, boys!” he announced, an excited smile on his face. “I’ve found your final member!”

Jungkook and Taehyung exchanged excited looks while the hyungs reigned in their own. “Really?” Taehyung couldn’t help but ask with barely concealed hope.

The CEO nodded, “If you guys can work together well, I think debut shouldn’t be too far away.”

Those were words that they’d all waited so long to hear. They’d worked tirelessly (some of them for years) and to finally be told that their dream was within reach was unbelievable.

Later that night, the six boys met their final member at their dorm. Namjoon took it upon himself to answer the door after the ring of the doorbell echoed through the unusually quiet house.

“Hello, I’m Kim Namjoon. Welcome to our dorm!” Namjoon introduced himself to whoever was in the doorway.

The others were trying unsuccessfully to catch a glance of what the person looked like by cranking their heads from their spots in the living room.

“Hi, thank you,” came a soft, slightly high-pitched voice.

Namjoon ushered the boy in with a wave of his hand and stepped to the side to allow him to enter.

Taehyung, along with the others, watched in anticipation as the newbie came into view.

The boy was on the shorter side and had soft baby cheeks that just begged to be squished. He appeared anxious but excited as he greeted everyone in the room. “I’m Park Jimin.”

The others began introducing themselves while Taehyung found himself caught up in a trance. He couldn’t stop staring at the new boy - Jimin. And as Jimin turned to Taehyung for the first time, it seemed he couldn’t keep his eyes away either.

“I’m Kim Taehyung,” he managed out. “Born in 1995.”

Jimin’s eyes widened, “Really? Me, too!”

And it was at that moment that Taehyung and Jimin’s infamous soulmate connection was created. Years later, when they spoke about it with their boyfriends, they could only explain their sudden and strange bond was indescribable. Something beyond any of their comprehension.

The others watched on, perplexed, as Taehyung and Jimin fell into a deep conversation about anything and everything, laughing and teasing each other every once in a while as though they’d known each other longer than just a few minutes. It felt like that, really, it felt like Taehyung had known Jimin his entire life. The younger had always secretly hoped that the concept of soulmates was more than just a myth, and on that day, he was given all the proof he needed.

Through dinner and a movie, the two were in their own little world, barely even noticing when the others bid their goodnights and headed off to bed.

When they were alone in just the lamplight of the living room, Taehyung turned to Jimin with a mischievous smirk on his face, “Wanna do something fun?”

Two hours later found the pair of new best friends half-stumbling through the nearby park, one distinctly more inebriated than the other.

Taehyung only half regretted telling Jimin about the three bottles of soju he’d stolen from Seokjin’s not-so-secret stash. He’d felt high on the feeling of a new friend and made a split-second decision that led to their current situation. They also had been given the next few days off for “time to get to know each other” and Taehyung really wanted to unwind a bit.

Jimin was tripping over his own feet on the grass, giggling every time he fell to the soft ground. Taehyung kept pulling him back to his feet, much more stable than his companion. The younger had only had one bottle, while the older (by only a few months) had two.

“I need fooooood!” Jimin complained with a cute pout as he looked up at his new friend from the ground.

Taehyung rolled his eyes fondly as he pulled him up for probably the ninth time that night, “Alright, let’s find somewhere to eat that’s still open.”

As it turned out, that was harder than Taehyung had thought. They spent half an hour wandering the nearby streets looking for a single open sign. Not even the closest convenience stores were awake at midnight.

Finally, ten minutes after Jimin had given up on walking entirely and was clinging to Taehyung’s back instead, Taehyung spotted the heavenly sight of a fluorescent open sign. “Oh, thank goodness. You’re getting heavy, Jiminie.”

Jimin only groaned in response.

A little bell dinged above the door when Taehyung entered, and he realized that it was a small cafe they’d walked into. He took in the few tables and chairs set up in the rather small space and the goodies that were on display up at the front. It looked like an average little shop.

“Good evening, boys,” came the gentle voice from behind the counter.

Taehyung and Jimin both looked up to see an older woman standing there, a lavender-colored apron with the cafe’s logo on it tied around her waist. She was short and had her salt and pepper hair pulled back into a neat bun. She had gentle wrinkles on her face that betrayed her age, yet a youthful, knowing smile on her face as she took in their obviously unstable state.

Taehyung smiled back sheepishly and hurriedly dumped Jimin into the nearest chair, ignoring the ��oof!’ he let out at the sudden movement. “Hello, ma’am.”

“What can I get for you, tonight?” she continued kindly.

Taehyung appreciated that she didn’t comment on their drunken state. He glanced up at the menu board, “Um...two orange juices and a ham sandwich, please.”

The old woman punched in the order on her screen, “Can I interest you in some fresh rice cakes? I just pulled them out of the oven.”

Taehyung hesitated, fingers ghosting over the twenty-thousand won in his pocket. “I-I would love some, but I’m afraid I don’t have enough money for it tonight.”

“On the house,” she replied, “My treat.”

Well, Taehyung couldn’t say no to that. “Okay, thank you, ma’am.”

“Oh, and take two fortunes as well. They come with the rice cakes,” she gestured to a jar on the right side of the counter filled with little slips of paper.

Without much thought to it, Taehyung picked out two folded pieces of paper from the indicated jar and tucked them into his pocket so he could grab the drinks from the woman.

It didn’t take long for Jimin and Taehyung to devour the sandwich and most of their juice. Taehyung definitely felt more sober once he’d finished, but it appeared as though Jimin was still significantly drunk if the glazed over look in his eyes was anything to go by.

The kind old woman brought over their rice cakes just as they finished the food. “Enjoy,” she said before disappearing behind the counter once more.

Taehyung and Jimin both took a bite and instantly moaned out loud at the way the rice cake nearly melted in their mouths.

“These might be better than my mom’s rice cakes,” Jimin said through stuffed cheeks. “Don’t tell my mom I said that, though. She would be very sad.”

Taehyung chuckled, “Don’t worry, I won’t.” Then he remembered the papers in his pocket. “Oh, we’ve got fortunes to read, too.”

He handed one over to Jimin who took it and opened it without much fanfare. “’You are going to achieve much success in the near future’.” he read out loud, words slightly slurred, before scoffing. “I have to admit it’s not very original, but it’s nice, I guess.”

Taehyung hummed in agreement before unfolding his own. He was surprised when he saw a much longer fortune written for him. “’Things will not always be easy, but you must persevere. When in doubt, remember that the number seven is woven into your fate in many ways’.”

“Hmm,” Jimin mumbled, eyes half-closed with tiredness. “I wonder what that means.”

“I’m not sure,” Taehyung shrugged it off and took a look at the time on his phone. “We should head back now before the others realize we’re gone. We’ve pushed our luck enough already.”

When he looked back up, he saw Jimin passed out on the table, resting on his head on his arm awkwardly. Little snores made their way out of his mouth cutely.

Taehyung shook his head fondly.

“Maybe don’t let him drink so much next time,” the old woman said, appearing out of nowhere.

Taehyung blushed sheepishly. “Yeah, I’ll make sure to remember that.”

“I was young like you once,” she sighed nostalgically. “I remember sneaking out of my parents’ house to meet boys and such. Just be careful, young man. The world isn’t always so forgiving.”

“I will, ma’am,” Taehyung promised. “And thank you for the rice cakes, they were really delicious!”

She grinned, “You’re welcome! Oh, and did you read your fortunes?”

“Yes,” Taehyung replied. “Jimin’s said that he will be successful in the near future.”

The woman nodded, eyeing Jimin’s unconscious form. “He will. I see much happiness coming soon.”

Taehyung furrowed his eyebrows a little at her wording but ignored it. “I - uh - I got this one,” He held up the fortune for her to see, and she walked over to get a closer look at it.

“Ah!” she exclaimed once she’d read over it. A playful smirk came to her lips. “The number seven is certainly intertwined deeply in your fate, as well as your band members’.”

Taehyung blinked in surprise, “I’m sorry?”

He never told the woman that he or Jimin were trainees, so how did she know that about them?

“The seven of you will go on to do more than you can dream of right now,” she continued, unfazed by Taehyung’s visible shock. “Remember this, young man,” the woman took Taehyung’s hand in her own. Hers looked so small and frail next to his large one. She looked him straight in the eyes and Taehyung couldn’t find it in himself to look away. “You must always remain humble and grateful and honest, no matter how far you go. Never take anything for granted and remember those who have helped you along the way.”

Taehyung swallowed against his shock and nodded, “I promise, ma’am. I’ll remember your words.”

The woman grinned and let go of his hand to reach up and pat his cheek. “Good boy. Now you must be on your way. I wouldn’t want you to get into trouble with your hyungs.”

After bowing respectfully, Taehyung lifted Jimin onto his back once more and left the little shop. The whole way back to the dorm was a daze, Taehyung’s thoughts preoccupied with the old woman’s words.

Even after successfully sneaking back into the dorm and putting Jimin to bed with a glass of water, Taehyung couldn’t stop thinking.

How did she know all of that about him? Was she gifted somehow or was it just a good guess? Did he believe her?

How could he not believe her when she’d looked at him so seriously, like she was telling him something important. Perhaps he didn’t know her at all, but he got the feeling that she wasn’t lying.

He fell asleep in the early hours of dawn, thoughts running wild with possibilities.

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A/N: I apologize for taking so long with this chapter, but I refuse to post something that I’m not happy with.

Please let me know what you think of the story and what specific pairings you would like to see in the last smutty chapter ;)

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wistfulcynic · 5 years

Text

Words Unspoken 1 / 2

Part, um... *counts on fingers* ... part seven of Secret Things. This one featuring roommates and a metric fuck-ton of mutual pining, and problems that wouldn’t even exist if these two would just say what’s in their hearts. But OF COURSE THEY WON’T. Not while sober, anyway.

Summary: Emma and Killian have been best friends for five years, roommates for three, and in love with each other since the moment they met. Their timing is awful and their communication even worse, until Killian takes a drastic step that finally forces them to talk about their feelings.

Words: 4.6k

Rating: T (for now)

On AO3

(This is a WIP from a while ago that I kinda didn’t plan to post, so not tagging anyone. But there will be a chapter two, so give me a shout if you’d like a tag for that.)

Chapter One:

Emma stumbled out of bed and into the kitchen, heading half-blindly in the direction of the coffeemaker. She grunted when she collided with a tall figure who was already there, pouring herself a cup. Emma winced as she spat long, curly hair out of her mouth and tried to focus her sleepy eyes.

“Ugh, sorry,” she said. “I didn’t expect you to be here.”

Milah gave her a tight smile. “Killian and I were at Antonio’s last night, and we had a bit too much to drink. Here is closer than my place.”

“Makes sense.” Emma scooted around the taller woman to get to the cupboard, pulling out her coffee cup and filling it as Milah watched. Wordlessly, she handed Emma the milk.

“Um. Thanks.”

“No problem.” Milah stepped back and gave her an assessing once-over. Emma tried not to squirm, tried not to think about the tangled mess of her hair or what her face must look like. She hadn’t bothered to wash her makeup off last night, had barely even got her contacts out before she fell asleep. Raccoon eyes surrounded by thick-rimmed glasses was probably not a great look. Milah on the other hand looked fantastic, cool and elegant, her curly hair perfectly tamed despite the early hour. Emma wondered snarkily if she’d be able to pull that off by the time she was Milah’s age.

“Late night?” Milah asked.

“Just work.” Emma sipped her coffee, wishing the woman would just go back to Killian’s room and leave her in peace.

Or as much peace as she could hope for when she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about what Milah and Killian were doing behind his door. At least when they went to Milah’s she could put it out of her mind.

Well, almost out.

“Mmm,” said Milah as the kitchen door opened and Killian appeared. He also had messy hair and tired eyes but on him they looked good, rumpled and sexy. He was so goddamn unfair, thought Emma, determinedly looking away from him, missing the way Killian leaned in to kiss his girlfriend before spotting his roommate, the way his lips deviated at the last minute to land on Milah’s cheek instead of her lips. Missed the flash of irritation in Milah’s eyes.

“Morning, Swan.” Killian sauntered across the small room and leaned past her to get his coffee mug. His smile was soft and his eyes warm but Emma saw neither, keeping her gaze firmly on her coffee. “Late night?”

“Et tu, Jones?” Emma muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing. Never mind. I’m gonna go drink this in my room.”

“Wait, Swan,” he stopped her with a hand on her arm. Emma forced herself to breathe normally. “Don’t you want any breakfast?”

“No.”

“You need to eat something, love.” His voice was so soft, so affectionate.

She hated affectionate.

“I’ll have a Pop-Tart later.”

“Something with some actual nutritional value,” he teased, his fingers moving gently on her arm.

“Killian, leave her alone,” Milah snapped. “She’s a grown woman, she can eat what she likes.”

This really should be a supportive, stand-up-for-the-sisterhood kind of moment, thought Emma, but instead she just felt judged. Let her eat what she likes, she’s a lost cause. Milah’s face was blank, her pale eyes hard. No sisterhood there.

Emma forced a smile. “I’m fine, really. Not hungry. I’ll have some lunch later, and I promise it’ll include something green,” she said, before Killian could interrupt.

“All right, then,” he said with a grin, removing his hand so she could make her escape.

An hour later Emma was functionally caffeinated and her face washed clean, and she was definitely not standing with her ear pressed to her bedroom door listening for the sound of Killian and Milah leaving the apartment.

Okay, she was. But she’d had a hell of a rough night; her skip had been hard to locate and even harder to take down, and all she wanted was to spend the day vegging on the sofa and watching soothing television. Something she absolutely could not do with Milah in the apartment being put-together and disdainful all over the place. Emma knew she was a bit of a mess and had no problem with that aspect of herself, but she hated being judged for it. Especially by Killian’s wealthy-divorcée girlfriend who’d never had to work to make ends meet.

She heard the sound of their voices, heard the front door open and close, then silence. She gave it another minute then ventured tentatively into the living room, surprised to find Killian there on the sofa wearing his pajamas and a brooding expression. He looked up when he heard her approach and a bright smile broke across his face.

“Hey, Swan.”

“Hey. Did Milah leave?”

“Yeah, she had a pedicure or something. You want to watch some Bake-Off?”

“Very much.”

Killian patted the cushion beside him. “Come on, then. Let’s waste the day away with mindless television.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Are you sure you’re not hungry?”

“Maybe a little. Though definitely not for green things.”

He smirked. “Go get yourself a bloody Pop-Tart, I’ll get the show ready.”

When she returned from the kitchen he had the show queued up and a blanket ready to tuck around her feet when she curled them under herself and snuggled against his side. He slung his arm along the top of the sofa, his fingertips brushing the sleeve of her shirt as she let her head fall against his shoulder, nibbling her Pop-Tart and relaxing into contentment.

As they watched mild drama unfold within the pastel tent Emma let herself pretend, just for a moment, that they were together —really together— and that this was their life. Spending a lazy Saturday afternoon watching TV, after which she would allow him to cook her something healthy and they would eat it at the kitchen table like real adults and then they would go to bed. Together. She sighed. She wanted all of that, so damned much.

Killian turned his head, his lips just brushing her hair. “All right, love?” he murmured.

“Yeah,” she replied, pretending. “I’m fine.”

They watched three episodes, then Killian hit ‘pause.’

“I should probably go get ready,” he said. “I’m meeting Milah for dinner.”

“Okay.” Emma tried to keep her voice neutral as his words punctured her lovely fantasy bubble. It never did last long, that bubble.

He frowned at her, something odd and sharply assessing in his eyes. “I can cancel,” he offered. “Stay here—”

“No! You have a date! Go! I’ll probably call Mary Margaret and Ruby, see what they’re up to tonight.”

“Okay, well if you’re sure.”

“Definitely.” She gave him a bright smile. “Go.”

She put on Four Weddings and a Funeral and refused to feel sorry for herself, even when Killian left the apartment an hour later looking heartbreakingly gorgeous. She’d take her cue from Kristin Scott Thomas’s Fiona, thought Emma firmly. If Fiona could spend years in unrequited love with her best friend and still be fabulous, then so could she.

So could she.

“So how was your day?” Milah asked as they sat down at a cosy table in her favourite restaurant. A waiter poured them champagne without being asked; Milah was well known here.

“Oh, fine. Nothing special, I just spent the afternoon with Emma. We watched some TV, talked a bit.” Killian smiled as he recalled it, the pure peace and comfort of sitting on the sofa with Emma pressed against his side, her head on his shoulder. Her hair tickling his chin.

Milah set her glass down with deliberate control and laid her hands flat on the crisp white tablecloth. Her lips pressed into a firm line. Her nostrils flared.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she said.

Killian frowned. “Can’t do what, love?”

“This.” She gestured between them. “I can’t keep dating a man who is so fucking obviously in love with someone else.”

“What? Who?” What had he done, Killian wondered. Milah never swore unless she was truly furious. What had he done, or said, to set her off?

She gave him a look so dirty he immediately wanted a shower. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He racked his brains. “Do you mean Emma?”

“Who the bloody hell else would I mean?”

“But Emma and I are just—”

“Don’t you fucking dare say ‘just friends,’” she hissed. “I’m not an idiot, Killian, and I’m not blind, though apparently you are both those things if you’re really unaware how you feel about her.”

Guilt stabbed at Killian. He’d tried so hard with Milah. “I—”

“No, don’t say anything,” she interrupted, making a sharp gesture with her hand. “I should never have let things go on this long, but I really liked you and I hoped if I tried hard enough to be what you needed you might forget her. But you never will. And I can’t keep being the second choice for my own boyfriend.”

“Milah, please.” Killian took her hand. “You know how much I care for you—”

“Yes I do. Exactly how much.”

“—and there’s nothing between Emma and me. Surely you know that as well.”

“I do. I know you would never cheat. But you want to, and that might be worse. Killian, you should see the way you act when she’s around. You want her so much you can’t even hide it. You take every opportunity to touch her and the way you look at her…”

“Does she know?” He winced the moment he spoke the words, but it was too late to take them back.

Milah looked stricken, just for a moment, then she closed her eyes on a sigh. “Well, that’s pretty definitive,” she said quietly.

“I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head. “You can’t choose who you love. None of us can.” She threw her napkin on the table and stood. “Goodbye, Killian.” She moved to go, then stopped, turning back. “Oh, to answer your question, no. She doesn’t know. She’s as much of a blind idiot as you are. You two fucking deserve each other.”

When Killian got home Emma was still curled on the sofa, a pastel tent on the television screen and an empty carton of ice cream on the coffee table. He kicked off his boots and sat down next to her.

“Are you watching Bake-Off without me?” he asked.

“We’ve seen this one already.”

“Oh yeah.”

She frowned at him. “What are you doing home, anyway? I figured you’d stay at Milah’s.”

He looked at her, at her eyes obscured behind thick-rimmed glasses, her hair in a messy ponytail. He could count the freckles on her nose and she had a trace of chocolate from her ice cream on the corners of her mouth.

She was so beautiful, he thought helplessly. And Milah was right. He was in love with her.

He knew he was, of course, he’d known it for years. But knowing was not the same as admitting. Admitting he loved Emma meant admitting that he’d spent years pining for things he could never have. It meant admitting that he’d fucked everything up, that he’d missed his chance when she finally broke up with Neal. Not wishing to be her rebound guy he’d waited… too long, as it turned out, and Emma had found her rebound guy in Graham instead. A rebound that had lasted more than a year, while Killian drowned his regret and jealousy in rum and a series of relationships that burned with intensity then fizzled once the initial attraction had passed. None of the women he dated could stand up to Emma, something he always knew and they soon discovered.

Worst of all, admitting he loved her meant admitting that if he ever hoped to have something real —marriage, kids, a lifetime with someone who loved him back— he was going to have to let her go.

He couldn’t have Emma and he couldn’t commit to anyone else while she was still in his heart. And that was the true root of his denial, the awful, heartbreaking choice that admitting his feelings would force him to face: accept that he’d always be alone or somehow get over the woman he’d loved for years.

Her frown deepened, and he realised he was staring.

“Are you all right, Killian?” she asked.

He forced a smile. “Fine, Swan.”

He could tell her Milah had broken up with him. She would be sympathetic, would curl supportively against his side and try to comfort him. He would put his arm around her, and she wouldn’t pull away. They would stay that way the rest of the evening, curled around each other watching soothing television then maybe a movie, and he would have to pretend he didn’t feel every brush of her skin against his in his very core. Pretend he didn’t spend every minute in her presence wanting to bury his hands in her hair and kiss her with every ounce of the passion he’d been suppressing for the past five years. Pretend.

And he couldn’t. Not tonight.

“I think I’ll go to bed,” he said, standing. She caught his hand, the simple touch sending a jolt of feeling straight through him. He gritted his teeth, forcing his breathing to remain steady.

“Are you sure everything’s all right?” she asked. Her expression was concerned, fond. He hated fond. But she was his best friend, and his feelings weren’t her fault. The last thing he wanted was for her to worry.

He smiled, as reassuringly as he could, and squeezed her hand. “Milah and I had a bit of a disagreement,” he said. “But it’ll be okay. I’m just tired. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

She nodded. “Okay.”

“Don’t watch any episodes I haven’t seen,” he warned her.

She grinned. “Would I?”

He wanted to kiss that grin right off her face. Instead he smirked at her as he knew she wanted him to, and gave her hand a final squeeze before heading to his bedroom.

He pulled off his clothes and left them on the floor, uncharacteristically for him, but he couldn’t be bothered to hang them up, or to put on pajamas. He fell into his bed, pressed his face deep into his pillow and tried to imagine his life without Emma. Without the cereal bowls she left in the sink and the empty packets of hot chocolate mix on the counter. Her long hair clogged all the drains and she never put the DVDs back in their proper cases. She was always putting her feet on his coffee table and he knew she used his shampoo when she ran out of her own. She should annoy the fuck out of him; instead his chest squeezed painfully at the thought of never being annoyed by her again.

He pulled the pillow to his chest and wrapped his arms around it. The thought of leaving her was almost more than he could bear, but he knew there wasn’t really any other choice. He had to give himself a chance. They could still be friends, he could still be there when she needed him, but he knew that for his own sake he couldn’t live with her any longer.

It took a surprisingly short time to find a new place to live. The week after Killian made his decision Belle announced that she was going on sabbatical, back to Australia and do some research for her book and spend time with her family. She would be gone at least six months and needed to sublet her apartment, she said, and did he happen to know anyone who might be interested? She looked surprised when he quickly volunteered to take it himself but didn’t question him, not even when she handed him the keys and he had to press his fingers against his eyes to stop the tears.

Emma had just slid some pizzas in the oven when Killian came home, looking tired and preoccupied as he had all week. Something was very obviously bothering him, but what worried her was that he wasn’t talking to her about it. He always told her everything, all the gory details of his life. Even things she’d rather not know. Like what was going on with his girlfriends.

He’d always had girlfriends, for as long as she’d known him. A serial monogamist, she thought, that’s what he was. A soft-hearted romantic —though he’d never admit it— always looking for ‘the one.’ His relationships never lasted long, a few weeks, maybe a month or two before the breakup. But it was never serious, and Killian never truly got hurt. He would come home and collapse dramatically on the sofa, pour his heart out to her, mope for a day or two, and then move on.

He’d been with Milah for six months, almost seven now. Far longer than any of the others, and the jealousy that clawed at Emma’s belly whenever she thought about the women Killian dated was beginning to get vicious. He seemed to be putting actual effort into making things work this time. What if Milah really was the one? What if Killian fell in love for real, and she lost him forever? Her chest tightened at the thought.

“Hey,” she said. “I just put some pizzas in, if you’re hungry.”

He didn’t smile. “Thanks, love, perhaps later. Can we talk?”

Emma’s heart lodged in her throat as she nodded. “Sure.”

Killian looked at a spot just over her left shoulder. “I don’t really know how to say this,” he muttered.

Fear was curling in her gut now, drowning the jealousy. “Say what?” she whispered.

Killian took a deep breath. “I’m moving out,” he said.

The fear slashed at her and turned to despair. This was it, then. He was moving in with Milah. He was leaving. They all left.

She nodded, concentrating on staying upright, on not collapsing to the floor and sobbing out her broken heart. “When?”

“Next week. I’ll keep paying the rent here until you can find a new roommate, but that shouldn’t take long. It’s a nice apartment.”

“Yeah.”

The oven timer began to buzz and Emma blindly opened the door, forgetting to put on an oven glove before she grabbed the pizza tray.

“Fuck!” she yelled, yanking her hand back.

Killian was at her side in an instant, taking her hand gently in his. He grabbed a paper towel and ran it under cold water before wrapping it around her burn, tucking the edges in to secure it.

“All right, love?” he asked, his voice low and rough.

She swallowed past the ache in her chest. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and they both knew he wasn’t talking about her hand.

“Don’t be. It’s fine. Like you said, it won’t take long to find a new roommate. Actually I think Ruby might be looking for a new place.”

“That’s good, then. Shall I get these pizzas out?”

Emma shook her head. She couldn’t bear the thought of food. All she wanted was escape, solitude. “I’m not hungry.”

“Nor I. I’ll wrap them up, shall I, and maybe we can eat them later.”

“Yeah, maybe. I— I think I’ll go to bed.”

“Aye, love. Sleep well.”

“Goodnight, Killian.”

Goodbye.

The weeks after Killian moved out were a blur to Emma. Ruby eagerly accepted his room, glad for a change after her ugly breakup with Victor, but Emma barely saw her. She spent every minute she could manage at work, volunteering to take the toughest skips, spending hours on stakeouts or days chasing them across state lines, driving herself to exhaustion until she could sleep dreamlessly through the night. Anything to keep her out of the apartment that felt empty and wrong without Killian in it. Anything to keep images of him living happily with Milah out of her mind.

He texted her, of course, and she replied, pretending everything was all right. She’d gotten good at pretending. He asked if he could see her and she told him truthfully that she was busy.

Weeks turned to months and still she drove herself relentlessly, waiting for the numbness to set in, for the heartbreak to begin to heal. As it had after Neal. After Graham. When it didn’t she couldn’t help wondering why, wondering if it could be possible that her heart had only been cracked before. If after everything she’d been through, in the end only Killian actually had the power to break her.

Then one night David finally refused to accept her weak excuses any longer and strong-armed her into coming to the bar with him. To celebrate, he said, after she’d dragged in a skip they’d been after for more than a year.

“Come on, Emma, I’ve barely seen you lately,” he pleaded. “Between you and Killian I feel like I’ve lost both my best friends.”

“You haven’t seen Killian either?” Her voice sounded unnaturally high to her ears.

“Nope. Since he moved out of your place he’s pretty much been MIA.”

“Nesting.” Emma squeezed her eyes shut to drive the images from her brain.

“What?”

“He’s—” she cleared her throat. “He’s probably nesting. With Milah.”

David’s frown was confused. “With Milah?”

“Yeah, you know.” She attempted a casual shrug. “When people first move in together they tend to stay in. Nesting.”

“Emma, you do know Killian and Milah broke up, right?”

“Wha— no, I didn’t know that!”

“Yeah.” David nodded, still frowning. “Months ago, right around the time he moved. He really didn’t tell you? I thought he told you everything.”

“So did I.”

David pushed open the door to the bar and his frown darkened. “Speak of the devil,” he said, tilting his head in the direction of a familiar dark-haired figure, slumped at the bar with a half-empty bottle of rum at his elbow, misery in every line of his body.

Emma felt her heart clench. He must still be mourning his breakup, she thought, even months after it happened. Milah must have been really important to him. David went to talk to Killian but she hung back, watching as the two men had a fierce, hissed argument ending with Killian elbowing David aside and staggering out the door.

As much as Emma really didn’t want to hear about his heartbreak over Milah, she couldn’t bear to see him in so much pain. Couldn’t bear to think how he must have been suffering all these months, alone while she worked herself into the ground to avoid him for her own selfish reasons. Guilt and worry churned in her gut as she turned and ran out the door, hoping to catch Killian before he found a cab.

She found him outside, leaning against the wall of the bar, but before she could think of what to say he pushed himself away from it and took a stumbling step down the sidewalk. She darted forward and caught him before he could fall. He caught his breath sharply and looked down at her, trying to focus his hazy attention.

“Swan,” he murmured. “Are you real this time?”

“I— what?”

He shook his head. “Just another dream. Must be.” His arm snaked around her waist, pulling her hard against him. “Good dream,” he said, so quietly she had to strain to hear him, tucking his face into her neck and breathing deeply.

“Killian, what— what are you doing?”

“You smell so bloody good,” he whispered. “Have I ever told you that?”

Having him so close after so long was making her lightheaded. “N— no.”

“I should have. I should have told you that, and so much else. Gods, love, I— I—”

“You what?”

“I miss you.” He breathed the words into her hair, his hand a tight fist in the back of her jacket. “I miss the way you smell and your hair in the sink and those bloody rank Pop Tarts you insist on eating. I miss it all so goddamned much.”

“Then why did you leave?” She choked. “David said you broke up with Milah months ago, so why—”

“I had to.”

“Why?”

“I had to give myself a chance to get over you.”

“Get over me?” When were you under me? she wanted to say, but now didn’t seem like the best time to quote Friends. Killian was leaning heavily on her, his eyelids drooping, and she could see he was close to passing out.

“Come on,” she said, wrapping her arm around his waist. “Let’s go ho— Let’s go to my place.”

“Mmmmm,” he agreed, and let her steer him down the block and up the steps and through the door of their old apartment, holding him steady as they removed their shoes. Ruby’s bedroom door was tightly shut, her laundry piled high on the sofa. Emma figured she should just push it off and let Killian sleep there, but sometime during the walk home his hand had found its way beneath the hem of her sweater and the drag of his rough fingertips against her skin was making her shiver and ache, and he was murmuring into her hair again, words that sounded like gods so bloody soft and all she wanted was to fall asleep in his arms just once. Just for one night. Then tomorrow she would wake up early, nurse his hangover and send him home none the wiser. And she would hold the memories of that night close and secret in her heart and never yearn again.

She hated yearning.

She guided him through the living room and past the sofa, into her bedroom where he stood patiently, watching her with bleary eyes as she unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off him together with his jacket. Her hands hovered at the waistband of his jeans for a moment, then quickly unbuttoned them and slid down the zipper, pushing them down until they pooled around his feet.

Go for broke, Emma.

She pulled off her jacket and sweater and shimmied out of her own jeans as he clumsily stepped out of his and kicked them away. Emma pulled her bra out from under her tank top then turned to look at him, swaying on his feet and fighting to keep his eyes open, wearing nothing but black boxer briefs enhanced by a sizeable bulge she knew he was too drunk to use.

“Emma,” he slurred, swaying towards her. She braced just in time to catch him and guide his fall onto the bed but he grabbed her waist as he went down, dragging her along with him, groaning a bit when she landed on his chest but quickly wrapping both arms around her. “Don’t go.”

“I won’t,” she said, “But the blankets—”

“Don’t. Miss you.”

“You said that already.” He wouldn’t be able to keep his eyes open much longer, she thought. He’d soon be asleep and she could—”

“Love you.”

“What? Killian, what did you say?”

But his only response was a soft snore. Emma stared at him, her mind and heart racing. He’s drunk, she reminded herself. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. She tried to wriggle away from him to grab the blanket but he made an incoherent noise of protest and tightened his hold, pressing his face into her hair. Sighing, she stretched out her leg and caught the blanket with her foot, slowly easing it up and over them. Then she snuggled against him, rubbed her cheek against his chest and let herself pretend that this was real.

Fuck it, she thought. It’s just a one-time thing.

#cs fic #cs ff #cs ff au #modern au #roommates au #friends to lovers #angst #mutual pining #an actual metric fuck-ton of it #secret things #profdanglaisstuff #words unspoken

82 notes · View notes

hotelsweet · 7 years

Note

DARCE I FINALLY THOUGHT OF THE PROMPT I WANTED TO REQUEST FROM U!! literally,,,,,literally anything with the protective jake dynamic from maximum security,,,,i would cry so many tears,,,,i WILL cry so many tears,,,bless ur soul thank u in advance i love u dearly

on this week’s episode of Em Wants Me Dead,,,,

in all honesty I rewrote this a few times because I wanted to be completely certain I was hitting that protectiveness right but dear God this prompt came for my soul

anyway HERE

Amy shifts over in her cell bed, wishing to hell she couldrip this stupid fake baby bump off and sleep in an actual, comfortable bed. Sheneeds sleep, desperately, but all she can think about is Maura, and Figgis, andJake.

Jake.

The way he’d triedto protect her. The way he’dadmitted he couldn’t be here while she wassurrounded by these women.

It’s notthe first time she’s seen him protective, not byfar- but it’s perhaps only the secondtime she’s seen him act upon it. Thefirst time was years ago, not long into her job at the nine-nine. It’s perhaps one of her first memoriesof them as real friends, real partners. Warmth spills into her system at thethought of it.

It’sstrange, in a way, she thinks, the fondness this memory elicits- the first timeAmy knew that Jake Peralta would always have her back just so happened tocoincide with one of the saddest days of her life.

Shifting her head against a thin pillow, Amy lets her minddrift, finding the moment and replaying it, in every little detail, letting itlull her to sleep.

***

“Y’okay?”

It’s thisvoice, amongst a sea of others, that catches Amy’sattention. Her eyes rise from her computer screen, and it’s like she comes back to life,snapping out of a daydream; suddenly, she’sstarkly aware of how dry her eyes feel, from staring absently at her screen,and of the concerned expression with which Jake examines her.

“Yeah, uh,” she clears her throat, “yeah. I’m fine.”

“Sure? Y’know, it’s almost the end of the day anyway, I don’t mind taking you home if you’re not feelin’ it.” Jake saysit simply, like it’s nothing, but she knows it’s a favour, a pity-offer.

“That’s nice,” shereplies genuinely, “but I’m really okay. Just tired.”

“Sure. Hey, I think there’s some takeout in the break room, ifyou’re hungry.”

“Oh, okay,” she says quietly, smiling gratefullyover at him.

She clears her throat again, attempting to expel thattightness in her chest, and stands up, deciding a snack and some cold water tothe face will wake her up a little-she’s still got work to do, and she’s not packing up any time soon.

As she moves, she subconsciously feels herself avoidingeyes. The whole squad’s beenwatching her, and she knows it. Just this morning, her grandfather passed away-and she would have been able to keep it secret, were it not for the fact thatGina had answered the phone this morning, apparently expecting one of Amy’s “nerdfriends” and instead being greetedwith her tearful mother.

It’s notlike she minds things like this interfering with her work day- in fact, she’s more distracted by the devastationaching through her mind and her body, like a numbness just waiting to build up intotears. It’s just the fact that everyoneknows, and everyone’s treading on eggshells around her.She’s barely worked here a year, justabout falling into a rhythm with everyone, and now, just because she’s not quite close enough with anyoneyet, it’s fallen into awkwardness.Even Jake, the biggest pain in her ass since she picked up this job, is beingunbearably kind.

Quickly, she heads for the break room, sighing to herself inrelief at the slight stretch in her legs from standing up and moving around, apleasant contrast to what must have been at leastfifteen minutes sat in silence.

Once she’s inthe breakroom, she finds herself exhaling deeply, finally out of sight fromeveryone else. On the table are a few boxes; some tacos, some chips, somefries- it’s bland, but it’ll do, she thinks, picking at itmindlessly.

It’ssoothing, filling her up quickly.

Right up until, that is, a piercing shout comes from thebullpen.

“HEY!”

It’s Rosa’s voice, but it’s too loud, too much of a warning.

Before she really knows what she’s doing, Amy’s feetare carrying her into the bullpen. It’s aperp, and he’s running- straight towardsher. Rosa’s on the ground next to herdesk, grabbing her shin and breathing hard through gritted teeth. She’s been hurt.

“Amy!” Rosa yells, and at once, Amy snaps back to life. With notime to grab her gun, she’sthrowing herself towards the burly man headed towards her, aiming to debilitatehim with perfect procedure- but he’s twosteps ahead of her, latching onto her wrist and spinning her round so she’s in front of him, held tightly infront of him with her arm behind his back.

“Let me walk and I won’t grab her gun,” he says casually, as if he’s done this a thousand times before.Come to think of it, Amy realises, he probably has. Her mind buzzes, her heartpounding in her chest, immediately thinking about what to do next. Knock himout? Make a move? Stay still?

The entire room is at a complete standstill- Rosa, Charles,and Terry all have their guns pointed at him, which only makes Amy feel sick;while those guns are pointed at him, they’repointed at her, too.

Her eyes scam the bullpen for Jake, but he’s out of his desk, nowhere to be seen.Great. Probably gone for a pee, entirely clueless.

She tightens a little, trying to pull away, but he onlygrabs her tighter, causing her to grimace a little. What a day- losing a familymember, experiencing her most awkward, sad, and slow day at work yet, and beingused as a meat-shield by a runaway perp.

“You’ve got five,” hesays calmly- his voice reverberates against Amy’s back,almost making her shiver. “Four,three, two- unf”

He’s cutoff as he drops to the floor.

Amy spins round to see Jake, holding the guy’s hand behind his back, keeping himagainst the floor with his foot. The whole room seems to breathe a sigh ofrelief; Rosa, though she clearly shouldn’t bewalking, heads straight towards them, and soon enough Terry’s moving over too. Jake, however,remains entirely focused on Amy, his expression still, and tense, and worried,entirely fixated among the chaos of the room.

Terry’smuttering something to the perp about CCTV, and the charges he’s just added for himself byassaulting a cop. Rosa’shissing curses under her breath. Charles is explaining the entire situation toMcGinley, who apparently missed the whole thing.

To Amy, it’s allan even thicker blur, stood watching it all happen, and directly in the middleof it all is Jake, his voice repeating over and over again at her.

“Amy.” His voice is quiet, but he’s allshe really hears.

“I’m fine, thank you for… for…” she says dismissively, moving awayfrom the centre of the bullpen, her head pounding. Air. She needs air.

Faster than she anticipated, she’s outside, sinking against the wall to her knees. Thelate-Autumn Brooklyn evening whispers a brief shiver down her spine, and herarm aches gently from where

His voice catches up with her, but she’s already lost herself, anxietythrumming painfully in her mind, pushing her until she’s curling up, her head dropping into her hands.

“Amy.” He’sbeside her, crouched down, his hand on her arm. “Did hehurt you?”

“I don’t-”

“Did he hurt you?” Jake’s voiceis firm, far more protective than she’s everheard him before. It has her a little taken aback, just for a moment. She feelsherself starting to focus again, the fear slipping away, and she looks up athim. His face is almost angry, brow furrowed, to the point where it almostworries her. She’s never seen him like this.

“No, I’m fine.”

“I could’ve punched him,” Jake mutters resentfully, rollinghis eyes. “I can’t believe it was you… andwith the day you’ve had, too”

“Has that happened before?”

“Yeah. Although, in my fouryears on the force, I’ve onlyseen two other runners.”

“Idiots,” she says quietly, pressing the backof her wrist against her eye. “Y’know, I could have dealt with that bymyself. I was about to go for his stomach with my elbow.” She knows she’s beingstubborn, but she’d rather die than look weak.

“Yeah, I know, are youkidding?” Jake says, smiling in thatway he always does towards her defensiveness. Any other day, she’d find it annoying. Right now, thenormality of it is so perfect it almost makes her cry. “I acted on instinct. Something about seeing you like thatmade me move, without thinking. Eh, I don’t know.”

“Probably a pretty stupidmove,” Amy grins, and he laughs alittle.

“Next time I’ll let you fight your corner.”

“Thanks.”

Jake laughs.

“No,” she interjects, “I meanthank you for helping me.”

“Don’t be stupid, anyone would have done it for their partner,for their friend.”

She smiles over at him for a moment. They don’t move, the noise of Brooklyn trafficfilling the silence between them.

“I think I need to go home,” she says quietly.

“Let me take you.”

“No, it’s fine, really.”

“Amy,” he looks at her simply, “I’m not letting you go home alone. You’ve lost someone important and justbeen attacked.”

“I wasn’t attacked,” she mutters. Jake doesn’t reply, just looking at her,eyebrows raised. “Okay, fine,” she gives in. “I need to get my stuff.” She stands up and brushes herselfdown, inwardly praying she’s notsat in anything gross.

“Nope, I’m being a good friend now, this is it,this is my duty-” he jumps in, and before shecan object he’s running back into theprecinct.

Within minutes, he’s backby her side, leading her to his car, chatting about some candy store downtownthat sells the exact brand of Mexican gummy bears he likes, and it’s dark outside, and cold, and all sheneeds to do is sit in his passenger seat and listen.

And when she starts to cry, silently, letting this awful dayescape her, and he apologises, she knows it’s notfor his stories about candy. It’s forthis absolute bitch of a world.

In the darkness, she finds herself leaning across her seatinto his arms, and crying, for lord only knows how long, in a feat that neitherof them will mention for months.

He’s warm,and still, and accepting. Calm. Ready to be there for her, just as he’d been in the bullpen.

And though it’s along while before she’lladmit it, it’s the safest she’s ever felt.

Safest she’ll everfeel.

#my babes #get u a friend/lover like this #thank u for the prompt em I loved it <3 #my writing #jake x amy #b99 fic #asks #prompts #elsaclack

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