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dokidokey · 4 years

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cabbage babies

－ when bokuto, your usual customer and friend who is a sunshine on a rainy day comes to your store looking like a hurricane brewing, he realizes that maybe getting rejected was for the better.

pairings: bokuto koutaro x kayla (reader)

genre: fluff, angst, f2l

warnings: swearing, an asshole for a customer, a pinch of jealousy, pining, bo gets rejected lol

word count: 4,941

notes: @janellion KAYLAAAAA SORRY THIS IS SO LATE this is inspired by that post u reblogged before, that hcs of hq boys bringing u flowers and bokuto gives u succulents instead! i can’t stop thinking about that :( this is a very very very late happy birthday post (*￣︶￣) happy late late late birthday kayla baby the love of my life i hope u like it (。’▽’。)♡

“Hi Y/N!” Bokuto Koutaro’s voice booms inside the small space of your shop. You look up from the small succulent you are transferring to a bigger pot and smile up at him. “Can I get one of those cabbage babies again, please?”

You throw your head back to laugh, the familiar name he adapted to calling succulents creating a wave of nostalgia to wash over you. The first time the bubbly boy entered your shop and looked for cute, small plants to give to this girl he likes, he pertained to succulents as cabbage babies.

“Hi!” His voice had boomed inside your little shop on a sunny, Tuesday afternoon. He was wearing a loose white shirt and some jersey shorts, a bag hanging on his right shoulder. He anxiously fiddled with his fingers before locking eyes with you. “Do you, uh, have those. . . those plants that look like cabbage babies?”

It felt as though your brain malfunctioned for a brief amount of time. “What?” You said, and you felt more dumbfounded than he was that moment. The boy with gray streaks on his hair looked down in embarrassment. “Ah! Forget I said anything, I’m so sorry, I’ll just leave!”

“No, no, no!” You were quick to scamper over the counter to stop him from opening the door and fleeing. You were. . . quite intrigued about these － these cabbage babies. Sure, many other customers came into your shop calling all kinds of plants these weird names but cabbage babies is new. You’ve never heard that before. You found it quite endearing.

“Can you describe these. . . cabbage babies to me?”

The man happily did with his eyes bright, hands animatedly flying everywhere. You took that time to take him in and you realize just how tall he was. You barely reach his shoulders. God, this man was huge. His arms were nearly popping out of the sleeves of his white shirt. You had to remind yourself that you were supposed to help him with this cabbage babies situation and totally not to admire just how attractive he is.

Or both. Both could work. You were a proud multitasker

He stopped mid-sentence to fish his phone out of his pockets. “Here! Sorry, I forgot I had a picture of that. . . This! These things!” He flips his phone to show you the screen and it displays an arrangement of different kinds of succulents. You almost slapped your forehead for being so slow. Yes, of course, cabbage babies. They did look a lot like cabbage babies.

So you led him to the small entrance of your shop after locking the doors. Not very convenient, you know, that if this overly-enthusiastic man is somehow hiding some ill intent, then you’re screwed. But you can’t think of him that way with the way his smile widened when he entered the small greenhouse in the back of your shop, littered with everything green and growing. He was so eager to jump from plant to plant to examine each one.

“Oh, this one is pretty!” He exclaimed, pointer finger caressing the soft pink tips of the succulent. He looked at you with a smile. “What’s this called?”

“That’s a Sunrise.”

Bokuto bought the little succulent in a pot, bouncing on the ball of his feet as he cradled it in his hands. He asked you what your name was and you asked him his, and that was when he said it was for this girl he likes. You were thinking about how lucky this girl must be, having a guy like Bokuto liking her so much that even the mere mention of her name has his eyes twinkling and his overall demeanor changing in excitement. All the while you were writing his receipt and his little reminder on the neon green sticky note he spotted on your desk and gingerly pointed to, claiming his penmanship is shit and what if she thinks it’s ugly?

He stuck the little note on the pot and went on his way, waving you goodbye. He came back the next week, talking your ear off about how much she liked the succulent. He purchased another one that day, a small cactus called Bunny Ears. He came back the week after that, and the week after, and the week after, buying a Kiwi, Mexican Firecracker, and Afterglow, in that order.

Now Bokuto is here again, his familiar bag draped over his right shoulder, clad in a white shirt and the same jersey shorts he wore the first time he came here.

“What would you want this time?” You ask, wiping your dirty hands on the apron wrapped around you and pushing the greenhouse door open. Bokuto follows you, eyes raking over the countless plants in the small space like he’s seeing it all for the first time. He hums and walks over to the rack of succulents in the corner.

He’s just staring at the pots, hands on his knees, worrying his lip. You’re worried too because Bokuto is quiet. It seems a little uncharacteristic of him to be quiet, especially if it’s about these plants that he loves giving to this girl, who you learned is their manager after a few late walks, talks, and eating out together. You also learned that he is a member of the MSBY Black Jackals, which you have heard before but aren’t that familiar with because you have little to no experience or interest in sports.

“Hey, Bo?” You’re a few steps away from him, fiddling with your fingers. “Is, um, something wrong? You’re so quiet.”

His smile is back at the sound of your voice, like you just pulled him out of this headspace and in his usual, cheery voice, says, “I. . . kind of, want to take her out on a － a date. You know,” he huffs out a breath nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “I feel like she’s not getting the hints of these gifts so might as well tell her I like her and go for it, right?” He beams.

You nod and tell him yes, that’s great, ignoring the way your chest tightens, brushing off the fact that you, unfortunately, like Bokuto Koutaro. He isn’t that hard to like, anyway. His energy is so infectious, along with these little antics that are quite too much but you very much adore. He’s told you one time how some people think he was too much, like Bokuto was something they should but cannot keep from their palms. And they are right. Bokuto is too much, but for you, it is in the best way possible.

You actually met two of his friends before when he asked you if you wanted to eat somewhere after you closed your shop, two weeks ago. He took you to this restaurant called Onigiri Miya, who he said was owned by his teammate’s twin, Atsumu. There, you met Akaashi Keiji, his old setter and vice captain from high school. In the end, Osamu didn’t let any of you pay, saying everything was in the house. You insisted though, of course, but Bokuto, with a very pleased smile, shushed you.

Akaashi even thought you and Bokuto where in a relationship, which hurt, to be frank, on your part, because Bokuto was so quick to deny it. He received quite the judgemental raise of an eyebrow from the younger boy and just a frown from Osamu when he revealed who he liked.

You came back to Osamu’s restaurant just last week, and you love every food that man makes. Literally heaven on earth.

“I’ll drop by again later. Do you want to go to Osamu’s again?” The spiky-haired man who kind of just broke your heart asks. “My treat!” He says proudly, then his smile falters. “If she, uh, agrees, that is.”

You hum, stepping closer to him to take a look at the small grasshopper resting on the large leaf of the Golden Pothos next to your rack of succulents. You were about to answer him when the bell signaling someone entered your shop rings. Bokuto forgot to lock the door, great, and you frowned at him, which he responded to with just a smile before you both went inside.

There’s a man wandering the small space of your shop, whistling as he looks around with his hands tucked in the pockets of his pants. Despite the negative energy this customer is radiating, you have no choice but to accommodate him. “Hello,” you greet politely, putting aside the plant bag where the succulent you were transferring before Bokuto came was placed. “How can I help you?”

“Oh, this shop’s got a cute owner, alright,” he chuckles, and you might as well have screamed at him to leave. But you plastered a tight smile on your face as you ask again, “is there anything you want? A plant, maybe? I have－”

You don’t get to finish what you want to say when the sound of his lighter flicking on cuts you off. Your head is quick to turn to Bokuto, who has a frown on his face. You clear your throat and point to the No Smoking sign hanging beside the door.

“Uh, sir, if you don’t mind, if you’re going to smoke, please do it outside. This is a non-smoking area.”

He puffs out a billow of smoke and it takes everything in you not to scream at him to get the fuck out. Customers that do not consider shop owners’ signs and policies are not and never will be welcome in your store. Before you can talk again and try to send him off as politely as you can, Bokuto beats you to it.

“They said get out if you’re going to smoke.”

You almost lose your mind with how serious and scary Bokuto sounds. You always see him with this giddy and happy aura around and to hear him be this serious for the first time is quite unnerving. You are so lucky to not be on the receiving end of this. . . this Bokuto.

The suspicious man clicks his tongue, inhaling and exhaling another puff of smoke. “Ah, too bad. Is the little shop owner taken?”

You purse your lips momentarily before firmly pointing at the door. “Get out.”

“Not the best way to treat a potential customer, hun,” he smirks. Your eyes zeroes in on the ash that falls on your tiled floor. If this fucking man does not leave in the next two minutes, you swear yo－

“Just leave, man.” There Bokuto is again. You thank all there is to thank that Bokuto is here. If this man came in here without him and just you, you aren’t sure what you would do. It’s not like you to judge people easily, but you are always quick to sense if the person is genuine or not.

The man just raises his eyebrows at Bokuto before his eyes flits over to you. He says nothing as he turns on his back and pushes the door open. From behind you, Bokuto notices how you visibly relax as the man slowly disappears from your line of vision. You turn to him with your eyebrows in a pinch. “I’m so glad you’re here, what the fuck, if that man came in without you I’d probably lose my mind.”

Bokuto just smiles, adjusting his bag on his shoulder before placing a large hand over your head and patting the top of your head.

“I told you, you need at least another staff here in case things like that happens again,” he looks pointedly at you before adding in a low voice, “but that should never happen again.”

“I know,” you roll your eyes, putting your hands on your hips. “But I can’t find anyone yet. That’d be more convenient because I’ll be able to entertain more than one customer at a time.”

Bokuto brushes past you to lock the door and walks back inside the greenhouse, immediately cradling a Blue Rose. A grin blooms on your face as you call, “maybe you can drop out of that volleyball career and help me instead.”

There is a brief pause in your surroundings, as if what you said stopped everything and you’re wondering if you somehow stepped over a line, that maybe Bokuto took offense in what you said, but he turns back to you, smiles and says, “yes! I love these small plants, anyways. Maybe I’ll grab Hinata with me and there’ll be three of us.”

Oh. Oh wow. Bokuto is inspecting the tiny plant in his hands with stars in his eyes. He looks ethereal under the sunlight filtering through the glass, his features looking a little sharper than usual. How lucky, you think, that in less than eight hours or so, the possibility of him getting together with their manager will become higher. There’s a little voice in the back of your head quietly wishing it will end up opposite of what Bokuto wants, and you’re berating yourself for being selfish. You’d like to keep Bokuto to yourself a little bit longer than this. You’d like to keep Bokuto without the thought of him sharing what little time he has for you with his girlfriend.

The guilt only intensifies when he locks his gold eyes with yours, eyebrows quirked upward. “Or I can also bring Miyoko-san! We’ll grow cabbage babies together and maybe expand your shop so you can have more plants.” He says it all as if it will happen. As if he’ll really drop his volleyball career to take care of plants with you instead.

You just smile softly, wringing your hands together and trying to keep your emotions at bay. “Are you taking that?” He nods, and you tilt your head to signal him to follow you back inside. You take the stack of sticky notes, which grew a lot more thinner since Bokuto showed up, waiting for whatever he will say for you to write. To you surprise, he holds his palm up, and you look up at him in confusion as you place the paper in his hands.

“I want to write it this time,” his eyes crinkles in delight, “to make it a little more special for Miyoko-san.”

There goes your heart breaking all the way. God, why can’t you have someone like Bokuto do that to you? Why can’t Bokuto do that to you? The things you’d give to experience what it’s like to have him fawn over you like this.

“There!” He rips the small note and sticks it to the ceramic pot. “I hope she says yes,” he frowns, and your melancholy is quickly flying out the window when his hair droops. Nothing in this world will make you panic more than the sight of his usually spiky slacking.

“I’m sure she will!” You’re scampering over the counter the way you did when you held him off the first time he came here. “She’s wasting such a precious person if she ever says no, you know. She’s very lucky to have you. I’m sure she knows just how lucky she is to have you like this as you are.”

Your words didn’t go to waste as Bo’s vibrant smile blossoms on his face. He’s pulling you into a tight hug before and he’s out the door before you know it. You’re left here once again.

Being alone wasn’t so. . . so lonely before. But ever since Bokuto frequents your shop before and after practice, whenever he leaves, it’s as though he is leaving behind a great hole no one can ever fill in. Like he’s taking all the space from you to make you realize just how lonely it is without him.

So you wait, like you always do. You wait for the excruciating eight hours for him to come back and talk about whatever it is that happened during their training. You expect him to come bouncing inside the store all sunshine and wide smiles, but as you’re mopping the floor, the glass doors open and Bokuto Koutaro looks the saddest you have ever seen him.

“Bo!” You shuffle to set the mop against the wall and take his face in your palms. “What happened? Why are you so－”

“She’s dating ’Tsumu,” he whispers dejectedly, his forehead finding its way on your shoulder. There’s an audible gasp from you as the weight settles on your skin, and you notice then that he is still holding the small potted plant he bought this morning, the sticky note nowhere to be seen. You gently take it from him, your fingers brushing against each other before he links his pinky with yours.

You wonder if Bokuto can hear just how much your heart is bartering against your ribcage; or if he can feel the rush of blood through your veins; or maybe he can feel just how stiff you are from your posture. But you let him curl his pinky finger with yours, your other hand cupping the ceramic pot.

“All this time. . .” His breath is hot against your skin. “They were together all this time and I didn’t even know.”

Your voice is soft as you ask, “how did you know?”

“Saw them kiss,” he mumbles.

If this is what it’s like having Bokuto all to yourself without the thought of sharing his time with his girlfriend, then you take it back. This is so much worse than what you expected and the guilt in your chest for wishing he somehow gets rejected is enough to choke you. Just how cruel can you be to ask for his dedicated time when it would mean he will hurt like this?

“Bo,” you whisper. He says nothing. “Bo,” you try again, and this time he hums. “Look at me, please.” The ruffle of his hair as he shakes his head tickles your neck. You have no choice but to cup your right palm on his cheek to lift his head up, the back of your left hand holding the ceramic pot making contact with his other cheek. There is a glossy haze in his eyes as he stares at you, looking like a lost puppy with the way his hair is frowning.

“Now who’s this sad little guy in my shop, hm?” You pat his cheek gently. “I’ll treat you to some ice cream,” you offer, completely disregarding what he said this morning about going to Osamu’s again. You’re pretty sure seeing someone who looks like Atsumu at this moment is not a good idea. Bokuto’s lips are still curled down and you bring your thumb to the side of his mouth, softly pushing the end at an upward motion. “My poor boy.”

You’re kind of bitter, to say the least. Of what though, you don’t know. Or who. But as Bokuto walks beside you all quiet with his hands in his pockets, an aching hatred blossoms at your chest. You know it wasn’t that girl Miyoko’s fault, or anyone, really, but you don’t know how to project the bitter feeling it leaves in your stomach. Bokuto, of all people? He deserves to be happy. If happy means having a girlfriend and his time and attention for you decreasing, then you’ll gladly take it.

You push the doors of the ice cream shop a few streets away from your store, going for the booths at the back. Bokuto is still quiet and you’re close to pulling your hair out because his silence is choking you. You sit down beside him after handing him his “whatever, you can decide” ice cream.

“So. . .” You start, lightly stabbing your cup with the plastic spoon. “Are you okay?”

That is the dumbest question you have ever asked.

“No,” he mumbles, his own spoon dangling on his mouth, “but I will be.”

God, yes, you can almost cry from relief. At least Bokuto is not as beat up as you thought he is. You hum, taking a bite out of your dessert and turn to look at him. “There are plenty of other people who will be more than happy to love you, Bo. If she’s happy with Atsumu then that is good, right? Maybe she just isn’t the one for you.”

There is a faraway look in the ace’s eyes and you wonder if he even heard what you said. You got your answer when he says, “I know.” He pauses, then sighs, and looks at you. The frown on his face is gone, but he isn’t exactly happy either. There’s just the littlest hint of a smile on his face. “I know, Y/N. And I don’t know, I’ve been having these. . . these weird feelings lately?”

Your eyebrows rise at that. What now? “Like?” You softly prod.

Bokuto groans and presses his forehead on the table, his arms covering his hair. “No,” he whines, “I don’t want to tell.”

You scoff, slapping his arm. “What do you mean you don’t want to tell! You say things like that and now that I want to know more, you leave me out?”

He groans again. He honestly just sounds like a big baby, which he is, but you don’t mind because he’s slowly reverting back to his usual self. “I don’t know if I like someone else or not.”

Okay, wow, well, that kinda stings.

“Who?”

“I’m not sure yet so I’m not going to tell you!”

You huff, dipping your spoon in his cup and spooning a decent amount of ice cream off. “Okay, yeah, whatever, but you better tell me soon,” you glare.

You actually would rather not! But if that person is the key to really make Bokuto happy, then you’re all for it.

It is kind of crazy, and scary too, thinking about how Bokuto was just another customer on that certain Tuesday. The one-time buying turned into daily visits, and daily visits turned into dinners, strolls, to meeting his friends. You didn’t see that far into the future to even consider that Bokuto will be this important in your life, yet here you are.

And there you are when he invites you to one of his volleyball practices because Hinata’s been pestering him about meeting you. You meet Atsumu and their manager, Miyoko, who is a total sweetheart. And there isn’t even tension between the teammates, all of Bokuto’s heartbreak quickly passing. Oliver, the team’s spiker, even hit you accidentally on the back of the head one time, which resulted in the whole team fussing over you.

It’s been over three weeks since Bo came back to your shop looking like hurricane personified. Today is another Tuesday, a rainy one at that, and you’re fondly looking outside the window as raindrops pelt the ground. Your surprise is evident when you see Bokuto waving at you outside.

“What are you doing here?” You ask quizzically, watching him shake his umbrella before stuffing it on the rack. He grins at you, all sunshine and happy. “It’s my day off!”

“And?” You rest your chin on your palms.

“I’m gonna buy cabbage babies again.”

It pulls a lighthearted laugh out of you. It seems so long ago since Bokuto came here, usually asking for his cabbage babies and nostalgia swallows you whole. It comes with the cold, hard realization that cabbage babies mean he is going to give this to that person he likes.

Your heart cracks in time with the lightning that lit up the gray surroundings.

“So when do you plan to tell me about this person, hm?” You inquire, standing up from your seat behind the counter and opening the greenhouse door. Bokuto follows after locking the entrance.

“Soon,” he says, giddy, “real, real soon, I promise!”

Real, real soon before your heart breaks again.

“Pick away,” you gesture to the succulents awaiting him, and he picks out an Aloe Vera and a pink succulent (not Sunrise.) “You want that?” He nods. You both go back inside and hand him the sticky note that’s been collecting dust on the corner of the counter. Bokuto is extremely hyper today, almost shaking in his giddiness. You huff, resting your face on your palms once again. “You buy cabbage babies but don’t tell me who it’s for. Okay. I’m totally not upset.”

Bokuto’s laughter fills the quiet of your little store, his head thrown back as he rips two notes and sticks it to the pots. “Real soon, Y/N, I promise. Just wait.”

You’d rather not, but you pout in reluctance, nodding. “Ju－”

“’Tsumu’s calling!” He shouts above the loud ringing of his phone that interrupted you. “What? But it’s our day off,” he whines on the phone, and you take this time to admire him again － the quirky arch of his brows, his bright, golden eyes, his lips that almost never loses that smile you love. He’s literally so breathtaking and you have to slowly let this man go despite never having him, in a romantic sense, in the first place. You have to tell yourself that having him like this, as a friend, will be more than enough.

He frowns at you as he ends the call, grabbing his umbrella. “Something came up and now we have a meeting,” he informs, and you purse your lips and nod in agreement.

“You take care,” you bid softly, waving a hand. Bokuto waves too before he’s out of your shop and into the rain. You sigh sadly, staring off outside, the gloomy weather worsening your melancholy. You don’t know how long you’ve been thinking or staring before you lean back on your seat, and it’s then you see the little Aloe Vera and succulent Bokuto purchased, staring at you. You slap your forehead in disbelief, a humorless laugh bubbling out of your throat.

“What the hell, Bo,” you mutter, curiously scooting forward to read the little notes he carefully wrote out earlier. Nothing in this world could have woken you up from your shock, your little heart stuttering in your chest. You shake your head, close your eyes, before reading his writing again.

aloe you vera much, Y/N :) says the sticky note on the Aloe Vera pot. i’d love to raise lots of cabbage babies with you ♡ says the other one.

“Fuck,” you squeak, taking the plants in your hands and reading it again. “Fuck, what the fuck.”

Your hands are shaking as you reach for your phone, ready to call him and demand just what the hell this trick he is pulling but a customer suddenly barges in, and you have you act normal through the chaos in your mind as the old woman asks you three dozens of small, ceramic pots, two dozens of brown, plastic pots, and seven pieces of large pots. After successfully entertaining your customer without breaking a pot despite your shaking hands, you call Bokuto.

He didn’t answer your seven calls.

You had to wait three ungodly hours before he came back, a soft smile gracing his face. “Hi,” he says quietly, gauging your reaction, “did you see the－”

You kiss him. After almost two months of meeting him, you finally, finally did what you wanted to do four weeks ago. His lips are soft on yours, a little hesitant at first, before you move your hands from his cheek to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. There’s a sense of urgency in his kisses, a little rushed, a little fiery, but it was perfect.

He pulls away and nudges his nose on the side of yours.

“You saw, huh?” He huffs lightly.

“I did,” you reply, just as quiet.

“Been wanting to say that since the ice cream shop.”

You pinch the skin on the back of his neck and Bokuto yelps. If you only knew this is how it will end, you would have wished he told you about it right then and there. You would have wanted to know it then. But soon never came this early, and you’re thankful you didn’t have to wait eight, long hours like when he has trainings.

“So the call?”

His eyes are crescent moons in the middle of noon. “No meetings, all plans.”

You shake your head in light mirth and disbelief, pecking him once on the lips before untangling your arms on his neck. He kisses the tip of your nose affectionately before you could fully pull away. Your heart clenches in your chest and it hurts so good. You finally have Bokuto, you couldn’t ask for more.

You grin as you stare up at him, eyes looking like two little hearts. “Aloe you too vera much,” you sputter between giggles. Red smears Bokuto’s neck and ears, and your giggles turn to laughter. He kisses you to shut you up, which is, unfortunately and fortunately, successful.

“So,” you start, wringing your hands together, just wanting to be clear between what this is between the two of you. “Are we, like, dating?”

He tilts his head. “Gotta take you out on a date first though, right?” He beams, and you smile shyly, stomach fluttering with the idea of going on cute, little dates with him.

His phone rings once again, and he scowls as he sees Atsumu’s contact displayed on the screen.

“What do you want?”

“Are ye guys finally dating?” Asks the setter, and you plant your face in your palms in slight embarrassment. It only heightens when you hear Hinata’s bubbly voice in the background.

Bokuto laughs, a warm sound that surrounds the small space of your shop, battling with the gloomy weather outside. “We are,” he smiles, softly grazing his thumb on your cheek. “We are.”

more notes: if there are errors i am so sorry i wrote the first half of this panicking because i missed kayla’s birthday and the other half earlier at 4 am because i can’t sleep lmao

#i many many lobe you kayla 😾#bokuto koutaro #bokuto koutaro fluff #bokuto koutaro angst #bokuto #bokuto angst #bokuto fluff #haikyuu!!#hq!!#haikyuu #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #hq #hq fluff #hq angst #msby black jackals #kielle writes

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orangepanic · 3 years

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I saw this “100 OTP questions” by @the-moon-dust-writings and figured I'd procrastinate:

1. Who loves flower crowns more?

Neither of them really, but Asami might make Iroh wear one just to laugh at him.

2. Who is the one who likes to cuddle?

Iroh. Asami likes it, too, but he usually initiates.

3. Who has awful taste in music?

Honestly, both of them. Asami likes terrible dance music and Iroh likes obscure combinations of horns and bells and stuff from different cultures.

4. Who is the meme lover?

Asami thinks they’re funny. Iroh doesn’t quite understand.

5. How did their second date go?

Iroh tried to take Asami somewhere very fancy, but the wait was too long. They ended up making out in a shadowy doorway down the street and missing their reservation entirely. Iroh was mortified, but Asami dragged him around the corner to a low-key noodle shop that has since become their favorite restaurant.

6. How many children do they want/have?

Asami thinks about three. Iroh, as many as Asami will agree to.

7. Who hides the weapons?

Iroh hides weapons for Asami around the house so she’ll always have something on hand. In a drawer in the kitchen, on her nightstand, etc. He knows she can take care of herself… and he stashes weapons for her anyway. Asami rolls her eyes but secretly thinks it’s sweet.

8. Who is the better dancer?

Asami. She likes dancing, and learned formal dancing in school. Iroh can’t dance at all, having skipped out on all his lessons as a child after bribing his instructor. He thought dancing is boring, but likes dancing with Asami and lets her lead.

9. Do/Did they have a theme wedding?

No. They quite deliberately have a very normal wedding, including cutting out a lot of the more stuffy Fire Nation customs because Iroh doesn’t want Asami to feel out of place not having any family present.

10. What do their parents think of them dating?

Hiroshi Sato is livid, and actually tried to have Iroh assassinated from prison. His little girl, marry a firebender? A prince of the firebenders? Iroh’s parents are more accepting. Izumi initially thinks Asami is too young and gives Iroh a hard time about how quickly he got serious, but quickly comes around when it’s clear Asami is very mature for her age. Within a year Iroh’s parents are both hounding him on when he’ll make it official.

11. Are they a super sappy couple?

They are that couple everybody hates.

12. How did they get together?

They meet during the Equalist revolution, but don’t get together until long after. Iroh has a crush on Asami almost immediately, but spends forever sitting on it thinking it wasn’t the right time and trying to be friends until one day he just kind of slips up and kisses her. She kisses him back. It turns out Asami liked him, too, but she isn’t great at reading people and had no idea he was interested.

13. Who asked the other to get married?

Iroh just kind of blurts it out one day.

14. Who stays up too late and makes stupid jokes?

Asami is the night owl. Iroh makes the bad jokes.

15. Who is the nerd?

Oh my god, both of them. Asami is more of the classic nerd. Iroh is more of a dork.

16. Who knows the most obscure facts?

Iroh.

17. Who makes the other a flower crown?

Two questions about flower crowns out of 100?? Changing this to who is more dominant in bed. Asami.

18. Who likes to read?

Iroh. They both do, but he’s much more into it.

19. Who bothers the other person while the other person reads?

Asami. She has the shorter attention span.

20. Who tutors the other?

They both would in different subjects. Asami is better at math, physics, etc. Iroh is better at philosophy and languages.

21. Do they have similar taste in movies?

No. Asami likes gory slasher films and lots of action. Iroh scoffs and thinks they’re dumb. Asami, in turn, thinks his period dramas can be kind of boring, and refuses to count documentaries as movies. But there’s a healthy overlap in things like Vikings and Game of Thrones.

22. How do their personalities complement each other?

Asami helps Iroh lighten up a bit, drawing him out of his shell, and gives him an anchor and a sense of home. She’s more social than he is, and a lot of her friends eventually become his. But she’s also quiet enough and serious enough that she doesn’t tire him out and can feed his need for downtime. Iroh, in turn, loves seldom but deeply, and gives Asami the kind of fierce, unconditional love and stability she needs. He’s also genuinely interested in her projects, is smart enough to follow most of it, and is one of the only people who can occasionally beat her in Pai Sho. They have a lot of fun together just being nerds.

23. How do they tell everyone that they are going to be having a kid/adopting a child soon?

They don’t have to tell anybody. It’s all over Iroh’s face like a big neon sign.

24. Who has better fashion sense?

Asami, but not by much. She’s more up to date with trends, while Iroh’s style is clean and classic.

25. Who will punch someone out if they are rude to their partner?

Hoo boy, both of them. Do not go there.

26. What songs do they sing together in the vehicle?

Neither of them sing in the satomobile. Iroh has a decent voice, but he’s a bit private about it. Asami mostly hums.

27. What other couple would your otp get along with?

Iroh quickly becomes BFFs with Bolin. Asami and Opal aren’t quite as close, but they like each other’s company and have fun as a foursome. They also get along quite well with Pema and Tenzin.

28. Who likes to prank the other?

Iroh tries more often. Asami’s pranks are more successful.

29. Who is the one who loves to take pictures?

Iroh, though generally Korra is the picture taker in the group.

30. How would they react if they found out they were soul mates?

Iroh raises an eyebrow. “Hmm.” Asami only shrugs. They both already knew that.

31. Where would they live?

They like Republic City and decide to stay downtown, first in an apartment and eventually a larger townhouse.

32. What type of dragon would they own, if they could have one?

Whichever one Iroh made friends with. Asami is a bit wary of animals and would need him to convince her it was safe.

33. If they were both vampires, what type of vampires would they be?

The kind that live in a beautiful house with perfect collections that took hundreds of years to make. Iroh has first editions of everything in a giant library, arranged in a complex system only he understands. He’s working on his 14th language. Asami has invented artificial blood and doesn’t miss sunburns. Occasionally she’ll throw one of those big fancy vampire balls just so they can both get dressed up. They’re pretty happy.

34. What would they dress up as, for Halloween?

They once went as Lady Tienhai and the last king of Mo Ce because picking something obscure and historical was the only way to get Iroh into a costume.

35. Can they name each other’s favourite food?

Kind of. They are both really into food, so picking a favorite is hard. But if the question is can they order for one another, absolutely.

36. Do they have pet names for one another?

Asami sometimes calls Iroh “General Hotstuff” when she’s teasing. Iroh sometimes calls Asami “sex pretzel” when he’s 1000% sure they are alone.

37. How do they cheer each other up?

Asami is more of a gift giver. She’ll show up with Iroh’s favorite take-out or make him something in her workshop—anything to make him feel special and valued. Iroh is all about quality time, and will swing by Asami’s office to haul her out on surprise dates. He also gives great hugs.

38. Do they show a lot of PDA?

No. Iroh is very uncomfortable with PDA, especially when he’s in uniform. Asami follows his lead.

39. How old were they when they got together?

Asami was 19-20, Iroh 24-25.

40. Who is the one that would bring the puppy home?

Iroh, 100%. He’s such a sucker.

41. Can they do yoga couple’s poses?

Yes, though Asami is the only one who really tries.

42. What is their song?

They don’t really have one.

43. What does their room look like?

Asami moved in with Iroh, so it’s very basic. White walls, perfectly made bed, a neatly organized desk in the far corner by the window. He’s a total minimalist, having spent most of his adult life on a ship. Asami added a very fluffy comforter in *gasp* a color and lots of pillows.

44. Who would be the one to kill zombies while the other keeps them grounded?

They’d take turns, and at some point Asami would turn it into a contest.

45. Who makes the other breakfast in bed?

Iroh. Asami is a terrible cook.

46. Who loves kids more?

Iroh.

47. Do either of them have a crazy ex?

Not crazy, but Iroh and his ex are not on good terms. He doesn’t like to talk about it.

48. What are their favourite colours?

Asami, purple. Iroh, black. He gets annoyed when people get him so much red stuff.

49. Who likes to cook?

Iroh. He fired Asami from the kitchen, something they are both grateful for.

50. Who is the forgetful one?

Asami.

51. Does either of them know how to fight?

Have you met these people?

52. What do they do for Valentines Day?

Iroh would probably plan something elaborate for them to go out. Asami would plan something sexy for when they got home.

53. Who swears more?

Asami, at least out loud. Iroh mostly swears under his breath.

54. Who has the better comebacks?

Asami. It’s not even close.

55. Who would start a fight with another parent at a bake sale?

Probably Asami, unless it was about the kids. If anyone comes for Iroh’s kids, they’d better hide.

56. Who reads buzzfeed?

Asami.

57. Who is the hopeless romantic?

Iroh, hands down.

58. Do either of them know how to do a handstand?

Asami can manage it.

59. Who can rap better?

Asami, though Iroh is the only one who actually listens to rap.

60. Do either of them want to go sky diving?

Asami would love to. Iroh laughs. “Been there.”

61. What do they usually text about?

Some version of “I miss you” or random pictures of stuff. They generally only text when Iroh is away as they’re both busy during the day.

62. Who is the dramatic one?

Asami has a shorter fuse. Iroh is more ridiculous when he loses his shit.

63. Is either one confrontational?

Not really.

64. What is their favourite cuddle position?

Asami will lay on top of Iroh on the couch like a sandwich. It’s the only position she seems to be able to nap in.

65. Who are their favourite musical artist(s)?”

See above about terrible taste in music.

66. What are their parenting styles?

Iroh covers a lot of the basics. He sets a schedule, makes lunches, tells bedtime stories, is more likely to help with the homework. Asami is the one who gets them around and does most of the interacting with teachers, other parents, etc. They share things fairly equally.

67. Who would be the more laid back one?

Iroh.

68. Who listens to more vulgar music?

Asami.

69. Do either of them have secrets even the other doesn’t know?

Yes. Asami can be secretive about some of her projects, both out of an abundance of caution but also because she likes a big reveal. Iroh keeps some past relationship stuff close, and will occasionally read a steamy romance novel for “tips.”

70. Who is their go to couple for a double date?

Bolin and Opal

71. Do they tip the waiter/waitress on their date?

Iroh tips very well.

72. How do they work out a fight?

Asami yells. Iroh yells back. One of them storms off. The other one waits about half an hour then goes to find them, usually with an offering of food. There are hugs. Somebody cries. Then they finally talk it out before falling asleep together.

73. Who brings home an illegal pet?

Asami. She is less likely to have a pet, but if she does, it’s going to be a weird one.

74. What side of the bed do each of them sleep on?

Iroh is on the side by the window because he likes to get up with the sun.

75. What is their favorite photo of them two together?

There’s a photo Korra took at the beach where Iroh has Asami thrown over his shoulder right before dunking her in the water. This is the picture he takes with him when he’s deployed.

76. Who takes longer in the bathroom?

Asami.

77. Who has more songs on their ipod?

Iroh. If you can call them songs.

78. What movie did they first see together?

Iroh took her to Last Days of the Sun Warriors. She fell asleep. He said the book was better.

79. What do they like to see each other in?

Asami thinks Iroh’s butt looks great in jeans. Iroh got Asami a red silk robe from the Fire Nation and likes to see it fall off.

80. Who makes jokes during inappropriate times?

Iroh.

81. At what age do they discuss the possibility of children?

Mid-20s, though they don’t have them until a little later.

82. What do they love about each other the most?

Iroh likes that Asami is tough and smart and a problem-solver. Asami likes that Iroh is kind and brave and has a strong moral compass.

83. Who is the one that sees the big picture, while the other focus’s on the small details?

They are both big picture people, which is sometimes a problem. Of the two, Asami is probably better at details, but she’s also forgetful.

84. What would they write on their partner’s social media’s for their anniversary?

Asami would probably put up a picture of them and say something brief but sweet. Iroh doesn’t really understand social media and would just paste a heart-eyes emoji.

85. Who is bad at math?

Iroh. He’s not bad, per se, but Asami is very, very good.

86. Who googles everything?

Asami.

87. Who does stuff on impulse?

Both of them in different ways. Asami is generally more flexible. Iroh usually has a plan but makes big decisions completely off the cuff.

88. How do they comfort each other when they are helpless to do anything about the situation?

Lots of physical touch. Iroh will kind of just wrap himself around her in one giant, whole body hug. Asami will spend some time cursing out whomever is causing the issue, then let him lay his head in her lap and give Iroh a good head scratch or massage.

89. What is an inside joke they have?

There was one time they had sex in Asami’s office at Future Industries, so occasionally she’ll drop things like, “feel like coming by the office?” with a suggestive eyebrow waggle. Iroh is, predictably, very embarrassed. Also interested.

90. Who makes the other smile with almost no effort at all?

Asami: *exists* Iroh: *smiles*

91. What is their favourite holiday?

New Years is a big deal in the Fire Nation. Iroh loves his family and likes going home, and Asami has grown to love it almost as much.

92. Who is the one that is calm and collected while the other is angry and destructive?

They take turns. Both of them can have quite a temper when pushed too hard.

93. What is their favourite board game to play?

They’re both big Pai Sho fans, but can get into any kind of strategy game. Nobody really likes to play them though, they're too good.

94. Who accidentally sets something on fire?

Asami. Iroh hasn’t had a fire accident since he was four.

95. Who has the car ready while the other is robbing the store?

Asami. She’d rob the store, too, but no way is she letting Iroh drive.

96. What artist/group did they go to for their first concert?

Iroh booked a private box at the Republic City Opera, thinking that was an impressive thing he should do on a date. It turns out neither of them like opera, and by the end they were both making fun of it.

97. Who sleep talks?

Asami. Iroh thinks it’s funny.

98. Who is the more social one?

Asami, by a long shot.

99. What are their karaoke songs?

Neither of them would really sing karaoke, but Iroh cannot hold his liquor like at all so if he ever got really plastered Asami might be able to drag him up there. By which point he’d be too far gone to have an opinion on the song and would sing just about anything.

100. Who would get up on stage and make a fool of themselves just to make the other laugh?

Asami.

#irosami #this is all canon now #kidding

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skzsauce01 · 4 years

Text

The Trials and Tribulations of Birthday Presents

Synopsis: Chan’s birthday is only three hours away, and you, his loving girlfriend, still don’t have a gift for him. Modern magic AU because it’s October.

Warning: one instance of calling and driving flying (please don’t do this!)

Word Count: 2.9k

Pairing: fem!reader x Bang Chan

What does one find in a magic shop?

Fat wax candles, decks of tarot cards, and antique spellbooks, just to name a few. If the shop is particularly well stocked, there may be rare potion ingredients like bottled lightning and threads of moonlight.

Despite all the fascinating things available, the very magic shop you work at has nothing for your particular dilemma: a suitable gift for your beloved. In other words, there are only three hours left before your boyfriend’s birthday, and you still have no idea what to get him.

“What do I do, what do I do?” you mutter to yourself.

The minute hand of giant clock face mounted to the oak paneling wall ticks, reminding you that time is of the essence and something you have naught of. If only you knew a time wizard; then you could allow yourself to panic and avoid the problem for a few hours longer.

The black cat perched at the register counter beside you flicks his tail, making the pages flutter. “We do have an aisle dedicated to gifts, you know.”

“There’s nothing good there!” you wail.

Glass candle holders and generic happiness potions don’t scream “I cherish you and the day of your birth greatly!” Though the specialty potions shop across town could probably make you one that literally screams that…

You bat the absurd idea and the cat’s tail away, making it hiss at you as a result. “Isn’t your shift over, Minho? It’s past nine.”

“Oh!” He shifts back into human form and cheerfully hops off the counter, making the floorboards creak. “Lucky me. Good night then.”

“No, wait! Help me! I’m sorry I was mean!” you pathetically call after him. “Minho!”

He turns around and starts heading back to the register. When he sees how relieved you look, he heads for the door again. “Good luck!”

You do your best impression of a banshee in an attempt to stop him, but he doesn’t flinch. “Give some advice at least! Please!”

“Be spontaneous,” he says as he opens the door. “Stop being so practical and get Chan something fun.”

The door swings shut, and Black Cat Minho waves a paw at you before darting down the street. The store goes quiet, and you stand by the counter with your head in your hands.

“But I don’t know how…”

One of your finer attributes is being practical. Plenty of people, namely all your friends who have received presents from you, even say that you are overly practical. It’s not necessarily a bad thing; it just means that they get new brewing stands and gift cards to the local plant nursery for birthdays rather than plushies and balloons.

But Chan’s has to be different and special, which means you have to be reckless and spontaneous and everything you are not.

While you pace around the store, looking for something you would never even consider buying, Changbin steps out of a nearby shadowy corner. He mumbles a hello and brushes his jacket sleeve, no doubt to rid himself of any pieces of darkness from his journey.

“Hey, Changbin,” you brightly greet, walking closer to him with your hands behind your back.

He gives you a strange look at your sudden chipperness and tries to get away. Unfortunately for him, he chose to arrive in a corner, and you easily trap him in.

“How was shadow travelling? Great? That’s great. Anyway, do you think Chan would like this?” You hold up a mesh bag full of stuffed mice, taxidermied ones and plushie ones included.

“What is he even going to do with those? Can I go now?”

You let him pass. “So, it’s perfect then!” Merrily, you take the bag with you to the register and start applying your employee discount code.

Changbin, who has not started working, hovers around. “Wait, is this what you’re getting him for his birthday?”

You stop pressing buttons and fearfully look at him. “Why are you saying it like that?”

You can always count on Changbin on being blunt with you, but it still stings when he answers. “He’ll like it because you gave it to him, but he doesn’t need dead mice. He works with summonings, and what demon likes already dead mice?“

“I’m trying a new approach,” you indignantly say. “No practical presents.”

“Okay, but he doesn’t want dead mice either.”

He makes a fair point. You cancel the purchase and leave the bag on the counter.

“What did you get him?” you ask. You mournfully scan the inventory pages, and the words feel like they’re taunting you. “Crystal ball? Gilded owl cage? Velvet-lined coffin?”

He laughs at your guesses and shows you a picture on his phone. An image of a koala plushie holding a vial of something shimmery stares back at you.

“Is that… dust bunny dust?” you say, pinching the screen to zoom in. “But you can literally find that under your bed.”

“When we were fifteen, he said— never mind, it’s an inside joke.” He tucks his phone back into his pocket and picks up the stuffed mice to put back on the shelf. “Why don’t you get him flowers and chocolate?”

“But that’s so… pedestrian. And more of an anniversary thing.” You sigh and wave him off. “I’ll let you get to work now.”

However, since the shop is quite empty in the late hours — who wants to go shopping when all the best things happen at night — Changbin soon returns by your side to help you solve your issue. You scroll through old text messages between you and Chan to find something noteworthy. You’re starting to reconsider Changbin’s earlier suggestion.

“What if I get him a birthday cake and flowers?” you try after finding a link to a boutique bakery from the town across the river. “But a really special cake and really special flowers.”

“Isn’t that too ‘pedestrian?’” he jokes. At your defeated expression, he pats your shoulder reassuringly. “I think he’ll like it. It’s a little bit practical as well.”

You suppose Changbin is still little miffed by the lint roller and darkness duster you gave him for his birthday.

“Is anything still open though?” You do a search for the local bakeries and flower shops, but as expected, most are already closed. On the bright side, you do know a florist who may not be too appalled if you knock on his door at this hour. “Do you think Jeongin will mind if I barge in for flowers?”

“Yes.”

As for the cake, a simple grocery store cake won’t do. The 24-hour grocery store, luckily, lives up to its name and is still open, which means you can make your own. “And do you think I can make a cake before midnight?”

“No.”

“I will switch those two answers around.” You grab your broomstick from the stand and are ready to leave when you remember that you are still supposed to be working. “Oh wait.”

Changbin shakes his head and nudges you to go ahead. “I can handle it.”

“I can’t just leave early! I’ll get fired!” You nervously drum your fingers on the countertop. You need a new plan, stat. “How about no cake? Agh! But just flowers is… agh!”

He laughs — how dare he! — at your panic. “Jihyo will understand. You’re also the only one who doesn’t fight when you get the witching hour shift.”

Your boss is quite nice and understanding, especially about things regarding relationships. After all, she was an apprentice for a witch specializing in love potions before she decided to open the shop. You hurriedly run for the door as the giant, looming clock ticks again.

“Thanks and good night!” you call over your shoulder to Changbin, who wishes you luck in return.

With some difficulty, you light the lantern dangling at the front of your broomstick. It’s dangerous of you, but you dial Jeongin’s phone number while flying to the grocery store and hope he picks up. If there were actual traffic laws for flying, you are certain you are breaking all of them. The dial tone is cut off, and Jeongin barely gets out a hello before you interrupt.

“I need flowers!” you shout over the rush of the wind. The neon sign of the store slowly blinks, and you nosedive down, scattering a cloud of vampire bats as you descend, almost dropping your phone in the process. “For Chan! So the best ones you have!”

“What kind of flowers?” You hear the sound of water from his end, so he must be tending to his night plants.

“Did you not hear me?” You grab a shopping cart, throw your broomstick in, and haphazardly snatch cake ingredients off the shelves. “The best ones you have! Also, can I borrow your kitchen?”

“That’s not what I— never mind. Sure, you can use my kitchen.”

“Thank you!” you chirp as you grab the last carton of milk. “See you soon.”

You hear Jeongin mumble a goodbye and hang up. Your cart is filled, and you’re certain that you have everything you need to make Chan the most magical birthday cake of his life. Self-checkout is fortunately devoid of customers, so you scan all the products as quickly as you can. Your broomstick is back-heavy as you head to Jeongin’s with your heavy bag of ingredients.

The giant upstairs window of his house is wide open, curtains pulled back, and you fly right through, landing on the kitchen floor with a heavy thump. Jeongin doesn’t even look away from his activity at the sink.

“Hello,” you say a little breathlessly. You take your bag and lean your mode of transport against the wall. “Sorry for coming on such short notice.”

“You couldn’t celebrate his birthday later in the day?” he asks. He’s snipping stems. “I’ve got plants to take care of and harvest.”

You find a large enough cauldron in one of his cabinets and start adding in butter and sugar. “I know, I’m sorry. I couldn’t think of anything to get him, so cake and flowers was a last-minute thing. I’ll buy gift cards here instead of the nursery for birthday presents next time.”

Jeongin seems happy with your response, and he breaks out the extra fancy ribbon he usually saves for expensive orders. With the exception of you mumbling cooking spells and him shuffling flowers around, it’s mostly quiet. After fifteen minutes, you slide the cake pan into the oven and pray the recipe you followed works. You anxiously stare at the clock, the incessant tick tock growing louder with each second. You’re not going to have enough time to frost the cake and make it look pretty at this rate.

While you make the buttercream frosting, you ask Jeongin, “What kind of flowers are you using?”

“The best ones I have,” he replies. You don’t need to see it to know he has a crescent moon smirk on his face. “The real answer is roses, lavender, and jasmine.”

Minho’s reminder of being spontaneous and not practical echoes in your ears. “Those are very practical choices,” you slowly say.

“Isn’t that what you want?”

“I’m trying a new approach. But it looks very pretty!” you add, admiring the colors. “He’ll need the lavender for stress anyway.”

He chuckles, and you sigh at your one-track mind.

When the clock strikes eleven, you’re officially in full panic mode. The bouquet is complete and resting in a glass jar of water. Jeongin, who for some reason trusts you to be alone in his home, leaves you while he attends to his plants. The cake — the stupid, still warm, ‘cannot be frosted unless you want the entire thing to look like an old wax candle’ cake — is sitting on the counter, and you whisper cooling spells that do not seem to be working.

It does smell lovely though, so at least the recipe worked.

After fifteen minutes of waiting and reciting cleaning spells, you start applying the first assembling the cake and icing it. You’re scraping the excess off when your phone rings. You mindlessly swipe across the screen with your knuckle, smearing a tiny bit of buttercream across the surface.

“Hello? Who is this?”

“Hey, it’s Chan! Are you still coming over tonight? I just wanted to check since I know you’ve got work.”

You squeak and quickly push his almost-finished present aside, afraid he will discover the surprise even though he can’t see you. “Hey!” you say as nonchalantly as possible. He doesn’t know, you repeat to yourself. “Yes, I’ll be there.”

“Alright. I can’t wait.”

You hear him smiling, and a colony of bats flutter in your stomach out of anticipation and nervousness. “I’ve gotta get back. I’ll see you later. And happy early birthday.”

“Thanks, love. See you in a bit. Love you!”

“Love you too.”

He hangs up, and you quickly swing back into the thick of things, piping the birthday message in cursive across the top,and decorating the sides with the same sprinkles as inside the cake. It looks, let’s be honest here, terrible, and you decide to use magic to make it look better. It feels like cheating, but what’s the point of being a witch if you can’t use your powers for good?

Jeongin comes back inside and gives an appreciative “Ooh!” when he sees your creation. “That looks really nice.”

“Thanks, I used magic.”

He becomes less impressed. You make a face at him while you carefully put Chan’s cake into a cardboard box, which you stole from Jeongin’s supply cabinet. A cheerful alarm sounds, and your phone screen reads, “11:55 PM - Chan’s Birthday!”

Time is of the essence, and you possess none. You rush about, putting the box into the bag and letting it hang from the back of your broomstick like you did with the ingredients. There are still remnants of your decorating on the counter, so you hastily say a cleaning spell and hope it doesn’t go haywire.

Jeongin is a warlock; he can handle it.

The bouquet you hold with one hand, while your other one steers your broomstick. Your friendly but not useful friend watches you in amusement, and you bid him good night as you launch out of the window.

“Good night!” he yells, his voice ringing through the air. “Tell him ‘happy birthday’ for me!”

“Tell him yourself!” you shout back.

A few petals scatter into the wind, and you force yourself to slow down. You are flying, you should have adequate time, you cannot mess this up. Chan’s house isn’t too far away by broom, and you watch as the ETA on your GPS ticks down.

Destination in two minutes.

Destination in one minute.

Arrived at destination.

11:59 PM.

With a sigh of relief, you land and gather your gifts in your arms. Before you can even knock on the door with your foot, it opens. Chan, a grin on his face, stands on the other side of the threshold.

“Happy birthday!” you greet. You present him with his presents. “Happy birthday to the best person alive — you!”

He hugs you, gifts and all. “Thank you,” he says, his breath tickling your ear.

“Anything for you.”

Oh, how true that statement is.

After you nestle your broomstick in the rack outside, Chan leads you into the living room, and you place the box on the coffee table, which is surprisingly devoid of his usual clutter. The bouquet he takes from you and studies it.

“Lavender for stress, roses for… rosehip tea? And what are the white ones?” he asks.

“Jasmine, and I guess for tea as well. If one of your demons likes jasmine, you can use it in a summoning too.” You poke at his cheek, right where his dimple is. “Open the box.”

“Is it a cake? It smells sweet.”

He lifts the top of the box. He laughs, shuts it back close, and looks at you with lively eyes. “You made this, didn’t you? Your magic is all over it.”

“Do you like it?”

“Of course I do. It looks amazing!” He pulls you closer and rubs his nose against yours. “Was it hard to bake?”

A fifty times sped up video of the hours before play inside your head. “It was hard to decide what to get you,” you decide after a moment. “I wanted to do something different than what I usually do.”

“No basket of common summoning items this year?” he teases.

“You said it was useful last month!” A flash of worry passes through you. “Would you rather have received that instead? Oh my. By the moon and stars, I can’t believe that the one time—”

Your forthcoming rambling is cut off when he puts his lips on yours. It’s sweet, slow, gentle, and out of nowhere. “Hm?” you squeak out once you lean away, too shocked to actually say, “What was that for?”

“I love whatever you get me,” he assures.

“No.” Kiss on your left cheek.

“Matter.” Right cheek.

“What.” Left corner of your mouth.

“It.” Right corner.

“Is.” One sloppy smooch on your lips.

He peppers you with more kisses, and you giggle at his messy attempts. “Even taxidermied mice?”

“Yes,” he replies, seemingly serious. “Decent sacrifice material for small things and good for gag gifts.” He softly chuckles. “I would rather have cake and flowers though. Much more pleasant.”

You mimic his big smile from earlier. “Happy birthday, Chan.”

~ ad.gray

#stray kids #skz #bang chan #happy birthday chan #stray kids au #modern magic au #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz fanfic #skz fluff #20201002

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hitsuackerman · 4 years

Text

Unpredictable (Overhaul x Reader) pt.3

a/n: I just saw a post with Overhaul without his jacket... BRUH. the infinite possibilities of--- yeah I’ll save that for the next parts XD enjoy the 3rd part :)

warnings: this cannot be read solo, cursing(?), subtle flirting

Links: part 1, part 2, part 4

Masterlist to my other fics: here :)

Overhaul’s waiting list: @jjk-biased @infinite-universe-love

“Okay.” Tsukauchi said as he took the seat across from you. His outstretched hand returning the envelope he had cross-checked. “There really will be a gala at the said area at the said date.”

“Who are the possible plus ones I can bring?” You asked. Your eyes glued to your desktop. As of the moment, you were digging up some articles about one of the minor cases you were working on. Of course, you could skim through articles and talk to your workmate. It was as easy as breathing by now.

“There’s only 3 possible candidates.” He began to enumerate. “Me. Shinezu. Namase.”

“Shinezu?” You stopped reading and stared at him. “You’re kidding me right?”

“Perhaps~” He joked. “I mean it would be nice to bring him along and expose him to the outside world. The kid needs a social life. All locked up in his office. Only going out when absolutely necessary. The exposure would do him good.”

Your focus glided to Shinezu’s office. It wasn’t for you to judge but it was clear as day he was happy as a loner and would dread any sort of unwanted communication. The fact that he was even part of this small select group of people was a miracle itself. Though, you had to admire his intellect. Nothing went past him.

“I was actually planning on taking the man himself.” You broke the news. Somehow that sentence caused your heart to pick up its speed by a little. The sound of Tsukauchi’s chair rolling towards you caused a bit of discomfort. “Think about it. He has more ties than I will ever have and his quirk would surely intimidate the boss. It’s a gamble on my part as to how he would carry himself but he’s level-headed. So far.”

“You sure about that?” His voice was much nearer now.

“Nope.” There was no use in lying to this person. “I’m just pulling threads here. But, his title might draw me closer to the main goal here. Besides, I’d like to see him without that horrendous jacket.”

“You’re not being affected by his charm now, are you?” Tsukauchi pried as he slowly went back to his work space. “We all know just how manipulative he can get.”

Gathering a few folders and envelopes, you placed them onto your bag. Fixing your hair, you stood up and went towards his area. Leaning onto the partition, you fixed the strap of your bag and crossed your arms.

“I don’t like being interrogated, Nao.” You said. “But if it gives peace to your running mind, here is my answer. I’m being as cautious as I can be. There’s nothing more to it.”

You waited for a response but by the looks of it he was either using his quirk on you or he was satisfied with your answer. The latter, hopefully. Excusing yourself, you exited the precinct and looked for the nearest coffee shop. If there was one thing the office needed, it was better coffee.

Your nearest bet was a 5 minute walk from where you stood. Looking at your watch, you had a couple of minutes to spare before interviewing a few civilians. Beginning your short walk, your mind drifted back to the plus one. Tsukauchi didn’t give you the go signal for it. Was this now all on you or would you have to consult him one more time?

Your hand was now fiddling with your phone in your pocket. Trying to single out the possibilities were rather tricky. The neon sign for the shop was now above you. You had been so lost in thought that you failed to realize you had arrived at your destination. Leaning on the door, you dragged yourself in and waited in line.

With the events going on, this called for a sweet drink. Something with chocolate in it. A sugar rush was something you needed.

You were currently the 3rd person in line. Pulling your phone out, you checked for any notifications. There was one. Clicking it open, it stated that the meeting you scheduled to have for next week had been pushed to today. Picturing your schedule, you had some free time later in the afternoon. Nodding, you sent out a reply and moved a step forward.

The day had just begun and things were starting to become busy. Thank gods the coffee shop smelled amazing. The exposed beans generously spread out its aroma around the cafe. Soft jazz music played in the background, enough to blend in with the buzzing chit chats of customers. A hint of mayoram and geranium gifted your sense of smell.

‘Wait..’ Your eyes began to scan the area. There was only one person whose wallet could afford such a scent.

“For an officer,” Overhaul said from behind you. “You’re quite slow.”

Pivoting, you were face to face with him. A new and very identical jacket replacing the old one. However, there was something off about his look today. His golden orbs simply stared back at you. Taking in your puzzled features. Then it hit you. A gasp escaped your mouth.

“Did the bird fly away or is this a new look?” He was without the bird beak. Instead, a simple black mask covered the lower half of his face. What was he hiding underneath that mask? Did he have a scar on his lip? A burn? If his eyes were breathtaking, what could possibly even out such a marvel? Subtly, you shook your head. What in the world were you thinking?

“I choose whether or not to wear the mask.” He replied. His latex wrapped hands motioning you to move forward. “This is one of the cleanest cafes that live up to my standards. It may not look like it but the smell of coffee beans are rather attractive.”

“It’s been a while, (Y/N)!” The employee greeted you. She giggled at how she broke your train of thought. It was something she barely got to see after all. “Will you have the usual?”

“Uh, N-no. For today, I’d like a choco chip supreme with less ice.” Your cheeks began to burn up as you had stuttered. Reaching for your wallet, you felt a foot gently kicking you. Looking up at the source, you stepped aside and waited for his move.

“2 Americano’s.” Overhaul ordered. In the corner of his eyes, he saw how your cheeks were beginning to turn a faint shade of red. As expected, this was interesting for him. “I’ll pay for her order as well.”

“You don’t have to.” You put up your palms and were only met with silence as he handed the payment.

“Put it under her name.” He instructed the employee to which she agreed. When both of you were given the line to wait for your orders, Overhaul signed for you to follow him to a vacant table near the window. Pulling the seat, he waited for you to sit down. To which you did.

“What do you want, Overhaul?”

“Can I not spend time with the person I’m assisting?” His hands remained on his lap. Sure, the table was clean but he wasn’t taking chances. Glancing at the window, his stare glued to the black car parked across the street. He could imagine Chrono inside slowly losing his patience. “I merely wanted an update for your plus one.”

“I’m still thinking about it.”

“Bring the first person that pops in your mind.” He tilted his head once more. “Isn’t that how you people think?”

“So you’re not a person?”

“I’m clean compared to you.”

“I’ll have you know I’m a clean person.” You pouted and pointed your index at him. The way his eyes widened with fear at the possible contamination was rather amusing. “You just wouldn’t know because you're afraid of dust. I bet your immune system is low.”

“Hmph. On the contrary, my health is pristine and well taken care of. I simply choose not to touch filthy people like you. I do make exceptions every now and then.”

“They must be blessed.” You rolled your eyes and the sound of your name broke through the jazz and chatter. “Well, make yourself useful and get our orders.”

“Of course.”

That had to make you wonder. He did not flinch, show any signs of annoyance, or even scoff at your command. Instead, Overhaul silently lifted his chair and made his way towards the counter. Seeing him bow as he received the beverages was weird. For someone who murders people, he sure is polite when it comes to mannerisms. Perhaps, those traits of his were already present. Even before becoming a villain.

When he sat back down, he took a tissue and wrapped it around your cold drink. Placing it in front of you along with the straw.

“Be my plus one.” You blurted out. Your view focused on him.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” He stood up and lowered his head. “I shall pick you up at 6. Is that fine?”

“Yeah.”

“If nothing else, I shall leave you be. Chronostasis must be fuming by now.” Before turning to leave, he had the audacity to add. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Following his body, you stared as he crossed the street and entered the same car he had been eyeing at.

Inside the car. Overhaul closed his eyes and listened to the small complaints his companion had. The visit to the shop was never intended but when he saw your figure walking down the street and entering the quaint shop, the decision to stop the car only caused Chrono to wonder.

Handing him the bird mask, he watched as his boss wore the contraption.

“Send the RSVP later.” He instructed. His voice muffled once again. “Use the alias we usually hand out for events like this. And call in the tailor. I’ll be needing a new suit.”

“That woman has taken your interests.” He commented.

“No.”

“Then why bother following her?”

“I did not follow her, Kurono.” He corrected his assistant. “It was merely chance running into her at this time of day. Besides, it’s amusing how she does not seem to hold such fear when I am around.”

Curling the sleeves of his jacket, he observed his skin. Not a sign of breakouts. In his subtle attempts to place himself close to you, he had come to the conclusion that you were relatively pure. Save for your quirk of course.

Speaking of quirk, there were still no updates regarding that information. Imagining the sum of money the Abegawa Tenchu Kai had to pay to keep that hidden was something he had to praise. The same could be said for his real name. Did you even know what his name was? Or were you left with redacted articles regarding that?

Closing his eyes once more, his thoughts went to the headquarters where his experiments were now running a bit late. Still, a few minutes delay was something he could live by.

Meanwhile, you were now preparing what explanation to give Tsukauchi. You had already given him a reasonable explanation as to why you would want to go with Overhaul. It also wouldn’t be the first time you would inform him of such unconventional choices you made. Ruffling your hair, you clicked your tongue and took a deep sip. “Uhm, (Y/N)?”

From the window, your view shifted to the employee. In her hand was a tray with a blueberry cheesecake. A shy smile resting on her feminine features. Scratching her nape, she let out an awkward giggle.

“The man told me to give you this after he left.” She said as she placed the dessert on the shiny brown surface.

“Oh, uh, thank you.” You stared at the cheesecake and immediately took your phone. Looking for the unknown number, you were only hoping that this was his personal number and not one that would alert the whole Shie Hassaikai. Sending the message with a rapidly beating heart, you cursed yourself for feeling this way.

To calm you down, you scrolled a little further and finally dialed your partner.

“Nao. I’m taking Bird boy with me.”

A long sigh was heard on the other side of the call. If you could bet money, you were sure he was massaging the bridge of his nose and leaning onto his chair.

“As much as I do not trust him, that would have to be the best decision for now,”

That went… smoother than you had initially thought.

“What’d you just gather?” Curiosity lacing your voice.

“A lot of big names are invited but we noticed that a handful of them are villains. Notably Akuji, Nokusu, and if our records are right, Tamisura.”

“Shit.”

----

are yall enjoying the story so far? :’) comment or message me if you want to be a part of Overhaul’s waiting list or any questions about the story :)

#overhaul x reader #chisaki kai x reader #overhaul #chisaki kai #bnha overhaul #mha overhaul #bnha chisaki kai #mha chisaki kai #he is garbage but here i am simping him so much

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societybabylon · 4 years

Text

Across from her, Harry’s eyes glittered dangerously. He looked tired but wild, like there was something lurking under his skin that only revealed itself in the dark.

It was at that moment that she realized how little she knew him.

“I remember waking up on that day, the day of your birthday,” Harry said, still cast in darkness. “I remember seeing the tattoo for the first time. I was terrified and angry, but I wondered…what if? What if we didn’t deny the bond?”

Lifelong enemies Allie and Harry are devastated when they learn they are soulmates, so they form a pact to never act on their bond. Unfortunately, fate has other plans for them.

[read on ao3 here]

“Do you want to know your fate?”

Allie watched the old man place a crystal ball on the table in front of him. The bauble was unassuming and slightly dirty. Honestly, Allie wouldn’t have been surprised if it were made of plastic. It, like everything else in the cluttered store, looked cheap and fake. But then again, what did she know about the world of psychics? That’s why she was here, after all: she wanted answers about her future.

It was the day before Allie’s thirteenth birthday, and she was at a fortuneteller’s shop. Her friend Becca had insisted they come here to celebrate her impending soulmate reveal. Perhaps, Becca said, they could get a little insight into who she would be paired with.

Allie’s world revolved around soulmates. When two people were ideally matched, an unbreakable soul bond tied the pair together. And two rules applied to all soulmates:

First, the bond was manifested in a tattoo. Everybody had their partner’s name written on their body somewhere. These tattoos didn’t require needles or ink; they showed up on their own, as if by magic.

Second, the tattooed names didn’t appear until the thirteenth birthday of the younger person in each couple. On that day, both soulmates would wake up to find themselves marked with their other half’s name.

Assuming Allie’s soulmate was older than she was, there was only one day left until she learned who she was bonded to.

Allie gazed at the crystal ball. Behind the fortuneteller, a pink neon sign buzzed an electric tune. The lights cast a dim glow throughout the small store.

The psychic seemed over-the-top to her, not that she would ever tell Becca that. The man sitting across from her seemed more like a crackpot than a sage. His greasy hair hung in his face, so long that it nearly obscured his eyes. He reeked of licorice and burnt lavender. But they had already paid the man his fee, so they might as well hear what predictions he could conjure up for them.

“Do you want to know your fate?” he repeated. “Once you learn it, you can’t go back.”

“Yes,” Allie said. “I’m ready.”

The fortuneteller muttered a few unintelligible words and stared deeply into the crystal ball. “Hmm...it’s foggy, but some images are starting to come into focus. Ah, yes. I can see it now.”

To Allie, the crystal ball looked exactly as it did before.

“I see money stained with blood. Tears and white bedsheets. Two bodies, submerged in water. A cellphone is ringing, but no one is picking up.”

“Okay,” Allie tried to figure out how to respond to this prophecy. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, but she certainly hadn’t thought he would list such unpleasant images. “But what does that mean?”

“These images foretell rejection and denial. You will learn who your soulmate is tomorrow, but you will be unhappy when you learn who you have been paired with. This bond will confuse you and bring you unhappiness. Yes, I definitely sense rejection and denial.”

Allie was stunned. “Do you see anything else? Like, happiness and love, maybe?”

“I cannot see specifics,” he responded with contempt. “That is not how my gift works.”

Of course the fraud fortuneteller wouldn’t be able to see specifics. She had shelled out good money for him to ruin her day. She protested, “But—”

The man cut her off with a dismissive wave. “Do not disrespect my craft. Just because you demand answers of me doesn’t mean that I’ll give them to you. I only see what the universe shows me.”

Allie glanced back at the crystal ball, which was still maddeningly clear. There were no bloodied dollar bills, no ringing cellphones. The fortuneteller could have invented any story he wanted. He could have reported that he had seen her in a happy relationship and with a successful career. And yet he deliberately chose to give her a bad fortune.

“You must see something good in the crystal ball, right?” Becca murmured. She had been quietly listening in on the conversation between Allie and the psychic for the last fifteen minutes, mostly content to observe. “I mean, it can’t all be bad.”

“Actually, it can,” the man snapped. “I do not control your future. I merely pass on the messages that the universe sends me.”

“So you’re saying that rejection is my fate, and there’s nothing I can do to change that?” Allie said.

The man nodded eagerly, as if glad that she was finally catching on. “Precisely.”

“And why should I believe that?” Allie usually wasn’t so confrontational, especially with adults, but this fortuneteller was an exception. What did he know about her soulmate? Nothing.

The man scrutinized her frowning face. His lips went thin with irritation. “I think we are done here. I’ve told you what I saw. It’s not my problem if you don’t like the truth.”

Allie nearly scoffed. He read tea leaves and tarot cards for a living. He probably got pleasure out of ruining his customers’ days. Staring into a crystal ball and mumbling about dark visions wasn’t the truth, it was a cruel joke.

At least, she hoped it was a joke. There was a part of her (a part she tried to ignore) that worried that his predictions might come to pass. She pictured the images the man had mentioned—blood, tears, bodies in water—and she saw death. She shivered at the thought.

“Thanks for the crystal ball reading,” Becca cut in before Allie could offend the fortuneteller even more. “Well, we should probably go. My mom’s waiting for us outside.”

The fortuneteller wasn’t even listening. His attention had strayed to a stained, crumpled box of cigarettes that sat by his side. He picked one cigarette from the pack and sparked it with a pink lighter from his pocket.

Allie felt anger on her tongue, ready to be sharpened into spiteful words, but she could see that Becca was anxious to leave. She smothered her fury for her friend’s sake. “Yeah, thanks for the fortune.”

She stood up and walked out of the store with Becca. As the wooden door swung shut behind her, she turned around to give the fortuneteller one last glance. Thick smoke swirled around his head. His eyes were closed as if he had already forgotten that they were there.

What did a man like that know about her fate?

The next day, Allie woke up at five in the morning. She was too giddy to go back to sleep. Despite how horribly the visit to the fortuneteller had gone, she was still excited by the potential of finding out who she was bonded to. She’d been waiting her entire life to see her soulmate’s name tattooed on her.

She checked her wrists, a common spot for soulmate marks. They were blank. Her arms and legs, too, were bare. In fact, every visible inch of skin was unmarked.

Don’t worry, she reminded herself. It’s probably just hidden under some clothing.

She lifted the edge of her pajama shirt and walked to her mirror to get a closer look at herself. As she scanned over the planes of her stomach and saw more blank skin, she felt growing disappointment. It seemed that she hadn’t gotten her tattoo after all. Her soulmate was probably younger than she was, which meant she would have to wait until his thirteenth birthday to find out who he was.

But then she spotted a scribble of black near her waist. The writing was scrawled across her left hipbone in messy, boyish letters. She bent down to get a closer look at the words.

Harry Bingham.

She gasped.

Harry Bingham? No, it wasn’t possible. Harry had been her sister’s sworn enemy since preschool, which meant that by default, she and Harry were also enemies. Almost every time they had a conversation (a misfortune she did her best to avoid), he was arrogant and entitled and cruel.

“No, no, no,” Allie said to herself. “This can’t be real.”

She paced her room, trying to rationalize why she was paired with Harry. She and Harry were nothing alike. It should have been impossible for them to be soulmates.

Maybe this was some sort of cosmic joke, or the universe’s revenge for the times she’d been a bad person. Or maybe, while she had been sleeping, her sister decided to write Harry’s name on her as a prank. All those explanations were more logical than the thought that she might actually soulmates with Harry Bingham.

“This can’t be real,” she repeated.

But the ink was underneath her skin. As much as she wished that she could blink and watch the tattoo vanish before her eyes, she knew the mark was permanent. It would stay on her body forever, reminding her of the boy she’d been chained to.

When she took her shower later that morning, Allie tried, in a half-crazed stupor, to wash the name from her body. She scrubbed with her loofa until her skin was raw and red. But Harry’s name was still printed on her hipbone.

After the shower, Allie dressed hastily, as if covering the mark would mean that it no longer existed. She even considered stealing a bottle of concealer from her sister’s room and smearing the makeup over her hip, but she feared that Cassandra would catch her in the act. Her mind was racing for solutions, and yet she was paralyzed by inaction.

She curled up on her covers, her hair still damp. She was too stunned to cry. Instead, she just stared at the walls, trying to decode the mess she had landed in.

By ten, Allie knew she could not hide in her room any longer. She crept downstairs to the kitchen, where her dad was flipping pancakes and humming along to a pop song. Cassandra and her mom were setting the table for breakfast. They had even put out a vase filled with her favorite peonies.

“Morning, birthday girl,” her mom said.

“Morning,” Allie replied, faking a grin. Her lower lip trembled from her anxiety.

“I’m surprised you woke up late,” her dad said. “I remember waking up at the crack of dawn on my thirteenth birthday. I was so anxious I almost got sick. And then it turned out that there wasn’t even a tattoo on me!”

“Sorry, dad, but even my birthday isn’t enough to get me to wake up early.” Lie.

“You ready for breakfast?”

“Of course.” Another lie. Truthfully, she was terrified. She knew her family would use breakfast as an opportunity to spring the dreaded question: do you know who your soulmate is?

Her dad plated the golden pancakes and coated them with pats of butter and gooey, sugary syrup. He brought the food to the table, and they all sat down to eat.

Allie shoved pieces of pancake into her mouth as if she were Joey Chestnut on steroids. She hoped that if her cheeks were stuffed with food, her family would let her eat her breakfast in peace instead of poking her for information.

Across from Allie, Cassandra was only on her second bite of breakfast. She had cut her pancakes into delicate, precise slices and had taken care to ensure the syrup was evenly distributed. Even when taking sips from her orange juice, she was polished.

Perfect Cassandra, Allie thought. She would never be bound to someone as awful as Harry.

“I remember my thirteenth birthday,” Allie’s mom said in between bites of pancake, seemingly clueless to the turmoil tearing her daughter apart. “I woke up and saw your dad’s name on the inside of my arm. But I had no clue who he was! Your generation is lucky to have the internet. You can Google your soulmate’s name and immediately find out who they are. We were in the dark about our soulmates until we met them in person.”

“Unless you knew your soulmate before you turned thirteen,” Cassandra pointed out. “Like, if you were paired up with someone that went to elementary school with you. Then you wouldn’t need the internet to help find them.”

Allie almost choked on her juice. That comment was uncomfortably close to her reality.

“I suppose that’s true,” her mom said. “That’s very rare, though. Your dad and I met when we were twenty-two, and we met earlier than most.”

“Well, I think it’s better not to use the internet to find your soulmate,” Cassandra declared. She said this frequently, especially when she was asked why she didn’t have social media. “I think you should meet your soulmate naturally, as you were supposed to.”

“So, Allie,” her mom turned to look at her. “Do you have any news for us yet?”

Allie went red. This conversation felt intensely wrong. Worse than the “sex talk” her parents had given her when she was eight. Although she had never considered it before, she wondered why her family felt like they were entitled to this information about her body and her future. Their society had bought into the idea that everyone should wear their soulmate tattoos like a badge of honor—but shouldn’t people be allowed to keep this information private?

Allie was ashamed of her mark. She didn’t want to admit that she had been paired with West Ham’s most obnoxious idiot.

“I don’t have a tattoo yet,” Allie lied, desperately hoping that her family would buy her act. “Guess he must be younger than me.”

“Oh,” her mom said, clearly a little surprised. Her mom and her dad shared a look. “Well, that’s okay, honey. I’m sure you’ll find out who he is soon enough. Your thirteenth birthday doesn’t have to be all about finding your soulmate. You’re so young! You can worry about that later. Today’s still going to be a great day. ”

Allie almost laughed. Her parents thought she would be upset because she hadn’t gotten her tattoo. If they knew the truth...

“Yeah,” Allie said, grateful that her family didn’t prod further. And then she told her greatest lie of the morning. “I don’t really care about soulmates, anyway.”

After breakfast, while her parents washed the dishes, Allie went back to hiding in her bedroom. She buried her head in the covers of her bed and let her emotions swallow her.

Harry Bingham, she thought again. How on Earth could I have been paired with Harry Bingham? We’re nothing alike.

She startled at the sound of her door swinging open. It was her sister. Cassandra wore a small, close-lipped smile that set Allie’s nerves on fire. Allie realized immediately that despite escaping the breakfast interrogation, she hadn’t escaped her sister.

Cassandra sat down on the bed.

“You know you can knock, right?” Allie asked sharply.

“Sorry,” Cassandra said, entirely unapologetic. “So, who is it?”

It was unlike Cassandra to be so upfront. Usually, she was the more reserved one, always telling Allie to calm down or be more patient.

“It’s nobody. I told you, I didn’t find a tattoo on my body.”

“I know you’re lying,” Cassandra said. “I can hear it in your voice. You can fool mom and dad, but you can’t fool me.”

Anxiety shot through Allie. She thought that her performance at breakfast was Oscar-worthy, but as always, Cassandra saw through her lies. “I don’t want to tell you, okay? It’s none of your business.”

“I told you the second I found out who mine was.” Cassandra emphasized her point by sticking her wrist, which was encircled with blank ink, in Allie’s face.

Allie could feel her panic growing. Her sister had a point, but Allie couldn’t possibly tell her the truth. How could she?

Allie imagined speaking Harry’s name aloud. She pictured her sister’s reaction, her mouth gaping wide and her eyebrows raised in shock. Cassandra would stutter out a kind response. She would try to make her congratulations sound convincing. Yet no matter what was said, they would both know the truth: Cassandra hated Harry, truly hated him. And that would never change.

No, Allie could not tell the truth.

“Just tell me.” Cassandra pushed. “I’m your sister. You can trust me.”

Allie’s eyes filled with stinging tears. “I do trust you, I promise. But I can’t tell you. Please, Cassandra, please just take my word for it. Please.”

Her sister looked bewildered. Allie knew Cassandra had never seen her beg like this before.

“Fine.” Allie could hear the hurt in her sister’s voice. “You have to tell me one day, though. A soulmate’s not the kind of secret you can hide forever.”

Maybe not, Allie thought. But I can try.

When Allie arrived at school the next day, she was determined to corner Harry and confront him about the tattoo.

As it turned out, she didn’t need to search for him. While she was walking down the hallway, a hand grabbed her arm and pulled her behind the lockers into a tight nook. It was Harry. Anger blazed in his eyes. He held up a cautious finger to his lips, shushing her. “Don’t say a word.”

Allie nodded. He stared at her suspiciously, as if he was worried that she would start screaming.

“I think you probably know why I wanted to talk. I’m guessing it was your thirteenth birthday yesterday, Pressman. I don’t know what else could explain the tattoo I woke up with. And to think that I thought I would have a soulmate I liked.” The bitterness in his voice was unmistakable. “You probably prayed every night that you would end up with someone like me, huh?”

He was infuriating. She couldn’t believe that he had the audacity to think that she would ever be interested in him.

“You think you’re so special, don’t you?” Allie said. “Harry, you’re pretty much the last person I’d want to be bonded to.”

“Believe me, the feeling is mutual. You think I want to be part of your shitty family?”

That was one step too far. She was half considering throwing a punch at him. She could do it if she wanted; in this nook, they were hidden from the eyes of their teachers and classmates.

“You’re an asshole,” she spat.

“Bitch.”

Allie wished she could vaporize him on the spot. How could she have been chained to such a callous jerk?

She thought of clever retorts she could say to him, insults that would permanently puncture his inflated pride. Though Cassandra was usually in the spotlight for her intelligence, no one could beat Allie’s wit. She could trade barbs with the best.

Allie considered those rumors that she had overheard about his parents’ loveless marriage. Yes, that would be a fertile site for insults.

She opened her mouth, prepared to escalate the argument. But she stopped herself before she could say anything.

What good would fighting with Harry do? At the end of the day, she would still have his name written on her hip.

Looking at him, she found that he, too, appeared to be at a loss for words. Though he still wore an angry sneer, his eyes were sad. It seemed that they both came to the same realization: they could hurl nasty words at each other for hours, but it wouldn’t fix their situation. If they wanted to overcome their bond, they’d have to work together.

“We’re stuck with each other until we die, aren’t we?” Harry let out a deep sigh. His furious mask cracked, and Allie glimpsed genuine misery and anxiety on his face.

For a moment, neither of them said anything.

Then, a brilliant thought struck Allie. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it before. “We don’t have to be stuck with each other. There are plenty of soulmates who reject the bond.”

“I guess.” Harry scrutinized her. She could tell he was considering her suggestion. “But how would we make sure that we’ve rejected it permanently? I wouldn’t want you falling in love with me five years from now, Pressman.”

Allie rolled her eyes. “Harry, it’s us. There’s literally no way we’re ever going to be friends, much less…well, you know.”

He nodded. “Okay. So what are you thinking?”

In her mind, a plan started to fall into place. A simple, perfect plan. “We both have to promise that we’ll never speak of this…this bond to anyone else. Ever. We have to keep it a secret until the day we die.”

“Like a pact?” Harry asked.

“Yes, a pact. Except a pact isn’t enough. We have to do more than that. Before we turn twenty, we both have to agree to get our marks covered up.”

Harry seemed much less certain about this suggestion. Covering up soulmate tattoos was technically illegal. Most tattoo artists outright refused to do it, and those who were caught in the act could face up to a year in jail time. Eventually, however, he conceded, “Okay, fine. I can agree to that. But you need to swear on your life that you’re going to get yours covered up, too. This is a two-way street, Pressman. If I’m going to jail, so are you.”

“I swear on my life I’ll...,” Allie paused, considering her words. “You know, I feel like we should have some official pledge or something. For example, I, Allie Pressman, swear on my life that I will never mention that my soulmate is Harry Bingham. I will do everything in my power to keep my tattoo hidden.”

Harry snorted. “Who do you think you are? The queen? Let’s just shake on it and call it a day.”

Allie glared at him. “Just say the damn words, will you?”

“Fine. I, Harry Bingham, swear on my life that I will never mention my soulmate is Allie Pressman. I will do everything I can to keep my tattoo hidden. Yada yada yada, you get the gist. Can I go now?”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you were the one who pulled me behind these lockers in the first place.”

“Touché.”

Just like that, it was settled. Their soulmate marks were a secret that they alone would keep. And they would never, ever act on their bond.

For two years after that, neither Harry nor Allie spoke about the curse they shared. They didn’t interact in the hallway or the classroom. They both pretended that the other didn’t exist, and they were both happy with this arrangement.

While her classmates celebrated their budding relationships or dreamed of the day they met their other half, Allie fantasized about getting a new, large tattoo to cover up the one on her hip. She was fifteen now; there were only a few more years until she could write Harry off as a memory.

Sometimes, she heard murmurs about him in the hallway. Sometimes, it seemed all of West Ham High School wanted to know his soulmate’s identity. Between his looks and his wealth, Harry was considered an ideal match. But no one was ever able to discover whose name was on his body.

Harry was hardly a factor in her life, much less her soulmate. He was a problem that she had solved, and she was content to let him stay that way.

Mid-October during her sophomore year of high school, Allie planned a trip to Manhattan. Her aunt, who lived in Virginia, was having a weekend getaway to the city, and she had invited both Allie and Cassandra to join for the last day of her vacation.

A week before the trip, Allie reminded Cassandra (who was swamped with homework as always) about their aunt’s visit. “Do you want to come?”

“What day are you going?” her sister replied.

“This Sunday.”

Cassandra frowned. “I can’t. I have to study for a math test that day. My grade is on the edge right now, and if I do poorly on the exam, I’ll get a B+ in the class. I can’t risk it. Trust me, I would go if I could.”

Allie understood. She knew her sister wanted to go to Yale, and she had seen the statistics. The admissions rate was around six percent. Even for the best of students, Yale was a reach. Allie was a bit sad—the city was always more fun with Cassandra by her side—but she wasn’t a child anymore, and she didn’t need her sister to accompany her everywhere.

“It’s no problem,” Allie reassured. “Just let me know if there’s anything that you want me to buy for you while I’m down there.”

Allie went to the city alone, bringing only her black purse and her cell phone with her. She arrived at Penn Station in the early morning. Aunt Carly, decked out in her characteristic prints and bold colors, was waiting for her.

“Allie!” her aunt hollered. Her obnoxiously bright orange-red lip gloss matched the color of her handbag perfectly. “It’s been so long since I last saw you. You look taller—have you grown?”

Allie gave her aunt a tight hug and laughed. “Since August? No, I don’t think so. Same height as always.”

“Any boys?” Her aunt asked with a wink.

Allie’s chest tightened. She hated that question, truly hated it. “Nope, no one yet. But I’m happy being single.”

Luckily, Aunt Carly dropped the subject, and moved on to talking about a list of all the clothes and books and trinkets the two of them would be splurging on throughout the day. There was no budget, it seemed; Aunt Carly acted as though her pockets were bottomless.

They spent the first part of the day shopping on Fifth Avenue and hopping into trendy boutiques. Aunt Carly bought dozens of clothes with dizzyingly high prices. By the time they went to eat lunch, her aunt had seven large shopping bags in her arms. Allie was more frugal; she had bought one bag’s worth of clothes.

After lunch, they spent their time exploring Manhattan. They meandered through the streets, grabbing snacks in between people watching. Allie loved the vibrancy and anonymity of urban life. Here, she shed the labels that followed her in West Ham.

After ending the day with burgers and fries at the Shake Shack in Grand Central Station, her aunt prepared to board her train back to Virginia. Her tiny frame was dwarfed by the assortment of large bags and suitcases she carried with her.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay walking back to Penn Station?” Aunt Carly asked. “I wish we had arranged a train for you from here. The walk is so far.”

“I’ll be fine,” Allie promised. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Actually, you know what?” Aunt Carly pulled her green wallet out of her purse and grabbed a couple of twenty-dollar bills from its folds. “I just don’t feel comfortable with you walking all that way. Take this money and take a cab. Please, do it for my peace of mind. I would feel much safer if you did.”

“Okay, I will,” Allie said, knowing full well that she was lying. “Have a safe trip home!”

Allie watched as her aunt took her bags and boarded the train. As soon as Carly was out of sight, she pocketed the money for herself. That money could be useful for another day. And, she thought, there was something kind of peaceful about a solitary night walk.

She left Grand Central and pulled up the directions to Penn Station on her phone. It was dark outside, but the way was straightforward enough, so she put away the phone and let herself fully absorb the city. She was mesmerized by the myriad of people who surrounded her. It was truly electric.

Allie peered into clubs where the night was only beginning, and where men and women knocked back liquor like it was water. She walked by a row of cramped food trucks, where the heavy scent of spices soaked in through her lungs and warmed her to the core. Compared to West Ham, New York City might as well have been another planet—a wondrous, delightful alien world.

She must have taken a wrong turn, because she realized she had walked halfway down an alleyway she didn’t recognize. The near-omnipresent city crowd had disappeared. The only sounds were the quiet hum of cars on busy streets and the plinking sound of water dripping from a drainpipe onto the street.

Allie suddenly felt very, very small.

She couldn’t have gone too far from a main street. So she told herself that she shouldn’t be worrying, really. All she had to do was walk through to the other end of the alley. Once she was back on a major road, she could pull out her phone again and check for directions.

Allie walked down the narrow street, thinking, for the first time, that maybe she should have taken that cab after all. In polluted Manhattan, there were no stars to light her way. The drainpipe’s dripping water drummed an eerie rhythm—plink, plink, plink.

Behind her, slow footsteps made squishing sounds on the wet pavement. She glanced over her shoulder quickly. It was a man, tall and blonde, strolling nonchalantly toward her. He seemed to have emerged fully formed from shadow. His eyes traced over her with feigned disinterest, only to light up when he set his sights on her purse and shopping bag.

She picked up her pace. The footsteps behind her sped up to match her strides.

That couldn’t be a coincidence. A host of horrible nightmares burst into her head. Assault, murder, robbery...

She needed to walk faster.

Allie started scurrying down the street.

So did he.

When Allie glanced over her shoulder again, she could see the man closing in on her. Terrified, she broke into a sprint. But just as before, he mirrored her actions, and from the sound of it, he was a faster runner than she.

A cold hand wrapped around her wrist and yanked her back mid-run. Allie tripped and went tumbling to the ground. The palm of her left hand scraped across gritty gravel, tearing her skin open. Blood oozed out from the cut and dribbled onto the street.

Allie stared up at the man with wide, stunned eyes. He whipped out a black glock from the pocket of his oversized jacket. His hands shook as if he had never pointed a killing weapon at another person before. Up close, he looked young, perhaps only one or two years older than her.

Adrenaline jolted through her body, waking her up from her dreamy wandering. The pain of her injury receded as she focused on the weapon in front of her. This could be life or death, she realized. She had taken one wrong turn and ended up against the barrel of a gun.

“Give me your bags,” the man demanded.

“What?”

“Did I fucking stutter?” And indeed, though his hands shook, his voice was calm.

The man jerked his gun in the direction of her purse and shopping bag as if his threat hadn’t been clear enough.

“Okay, okay,” Allie said in rushed breaths.

She took off her bags with her wounded hand and held them out to him. She stifled a cry as her purse’s handle bit into her skin. Her blood smeared over the metal, streaking it with red.

In a swift move, he snatched her belongings from her fingers. It amazed her how deftly he could move while still managing to point his gun at her.

He quickly pulled her wallet out of her purse and rifled through paper bills quickly, including the money that her aunt had given her for a taxi. In the dim light of the alley, she could see her blood glistening on his fingertips, marking up every paper bill he touched.

He shut the wallet with a snap. His eyes darted nervously to each side of the alleyway, presumably checking to ensure no one had seen him rob her.

“Now, close your eyes and count to thirty,” he ordered. For added intimidation, he waved his gun at her again. “And count slowly.”

Allie nearly whimpered with fear, but did as he said. She let her vision go dark. Without her sight, she couldn’t help but imagine his finger on the trigger, ready to kill her. She wasn’t putting up a fight. It would be an easy crime.

“One. Two. Three…” she counted.

But the shot never came. She heard the muffled thunk of fabric meeting heavy plastic, and then the squish of his feet as he sprinted down the alleyway. In seconds, she could no longer hear him at all. The city had swallowed him up. She was alone again.

Allie opened her eyes and slowly rose from the ground. She winced as she plucked jagged pieces of gravel from her hands. She could still feel cold fear curling in her chest, although that emotion was quickly being replaced by the panicked realization that she had just lost her money and her ticket back home.

She was lucky about one thing: he hadn’t asked her to empty her pockets. Her phone was still tucked snuggly in the back pocket of her jeans.

Allie dialed Cassandra’s number. It was past midnight, so there was a high likelihood that her sister would already be asleep, especially since she had a test the next day. Her parents, notorious for going to bed early, would certainly already have dozed off.

The line rang and rang, but Cassandra didn’t pick up. Then: Hi, you’ve reached Cassandra Pressman. Leave a message and I’ll call you back as soon as I can.

Since her sister’s phone had gone straight to voicemail, she would have to rely on someone else. She went through her contact list one by one, praying that at least one of her friends would pick up. Will, Becca, Gordie, Bean: none of them answered her calls.

The blood on her left hand had started to clot. Her cell was rapidly running out of battery. She needed someone to pick up.

She scrolled through her contacts again, calling people she barely knew. She even called Elle Tomkins, who she had spoken maybe a total of three words to. Over and over, she was met with disappointment when no one picked up.

Allie was quickly running out of options when she came across a person she had tried to push to the corners of her mind. Her finger hovered over his name in her contact list.

Harry Bingham.

It seemed wrong to call him. Wrong, when he was constantly at Cassandra’s throat. Wrong, when they had done everything possible to ignore each other since she turned thirteen.

You know what? Allie thought to herself. Fuck it.

Before she could stop herself, she called him.

He picked up on the second ring. “Hello?” His voice was thick with sleep.

“Hey. It’s Allie.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s the twenty-first century. I have caller I.D. What do you want?”

Ugh. Though his rudeness was no surprise, it still irked her. But at this point, it seemed like he was her only hope, so she tried to suppress her irritation. “Can I ask you a favor? I know it’s a lot to ask, but I have no one else to turn to and I’m scared and I don’t know what else to do.”

“Shit, Allie. Just spit it out.”

“I’m stuck in New York City. A man mugged me and took all my money and my ticket back home. I wouldn’t have called you, except I’ve already tried my family and all my friends. Can you come get me?”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. In her head, she pictured him lying in bed, half-asleep and sneering at her. She imagined that he was hovering his finger over the red button on his phone, ready to end the call at any moment. Knowing Harry, he would probably hang up on her and go right back to sleep, and in the morning he’d forget that she’d ever called him.

“Hello?” she said, breaking the silence. “Harry? Are you still there?”

“Yeah, I’m still here.” He sighed. “You’re going to owe me for this, Pressman.”

Relief rushed over her. “So you’ll do it?”

“Yeah, I will. Might be a couple of hours before I can get to you, though. I’m going to have to take an Amtrak or something, because my dad will get pissed if I start racking up miles on my car.” The trains from West Ham to Penn Station took an hour and a half minimum, and since fewer trains ran at night, the next train to the city probably wouldn’t be for a while. “Do you have somewhere safe to stay until then?”

“Um, I was just planning on waiting around at the train station.”

“Jesus Christ.” He cursed under his breath. “You so owe me for this. Alright, walk to the Waterwhite Hotel. It’s only two blocks from the station. Tell the person at the front desk that you’re a friend of the Bingham family. They’ll let you wait in the lobby until I show up.”

A cool rush of relief flooded her. “Harry? Thank you so much.”

“Don’t mention it. Like, seriously. Don’t mention this to anyone.”

Harry arrived at the Waterwhite a little over two hours later. His shirt was rumpled and he looked like he desperately needed two shots of espresso. Allie had never seen him look so disheveled. He must have come immediately after she called him.

Allie was waiting for him on a modern, dark blue couch in the hotel lobby. She watched as he walked over to the tall brunette working the reception desk. He smiled and said something to the woman. Her previously bored expression turned happy, and she pointed to where Allie was sitting. Allie could see him thanking her with one of his classic Bingham smiles before walking over to where she was waiting. Even bedraggled, he still somehow managed to charm.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said. If he noticed her state of distress—her grimy shoes, her still-bloody hand, her tired red eyes—he did not comment on it.

She nodded. “Thank you, again, Harry. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.”

He didn’t respond. They walked to the train station in near silence. The clacking of her shoes on the pavement was the only sound either of them made on the way there.

When they reached Penn Station, Harry paid for her Amtrak ticket back to West Ham in cash. This, too, was a near-wordless exchange. She thanked him. He merely grunted in response.

After waiting for thirty minutes, their train arrived. Unlike most trains out of the city, this one was near empty, occupied only by sleep-deprived workers commuting to their morning shift and a few odd stragglers.

Allie slid into a seat near the front of a car. Rather than sliding into the seat next to her, Harry spread himself out on the row of seats across from her. He rested his back against the window, stretched his legs across the seats, and let his feet dangle into the aisle.

Allie pulled out her phone to check the time. 3:23 a.m. was etched in glowing lights.

The train rolled to a start. Harry closed his eyes and slouched in his seat as if he hoped to resume the sleep he had been enjoying before she had called. When he stretched his arms behind his head, his shirt rose to expose a sliver of skin by his hip.

She could see the start of her name, inked on him in her penmanship. Allie Pressman. She had never seen it before. It pained her to look at it, although there was an almost beautiful quality to the tattoo. Unlike tattoos done by hand, a soulmate mark would never fade or need touch-ups.

He dropped his arms. The tattoo vanished under a cascade of black fabric.

“Show me yours and I’ll show you mine.” He was looking at her with half-shut eyes. So, he’d caught her staring after all.

Maybe it was sheer curiosity, or maybe her tiredness had made her weak, but she wanted to see those words on his skin.

Without responding, Allie lifted the edge of her top and nudged down one side of her jeans so that his name was fully revealed. The tattoo was the same as always, stark black ink against pale skin. It felt strange to have her mark exposed to the world. No one had ever seen it but her.

Harry followed her lead. He lifted the edge of his shirt, showing his tattoo to her once more. This time, she could see the entirety of her signature, like a claiming brand on a boy who despised her.

They sat in silence, examining each other’s inked skin with fascination.

“It’s weird, isn’t it? Seeing your name on someone else’s body,” she said.

“Yeah, very weird.” Harry tore his eyes away from her skin. Then, with a wry smirk, he said, “Almost as weird as having to cross state lines at three in the morning to pick up your enemy’s little sister.”

“Why did you help me?” she asked, genuinely curious.

He looked surprised at her question. “Allie, I know what you and your sister think of me, but I’m not a bad person. I wasn’t going to leave you stranded in New York.”

Allie didn’t quite know what to say to that. Harry was right—she and Cassandra thought he was all West Ham’s worst traits distilled into one human being. Could it really be that after years of hating him, he was worth redeeming?

The train swayed hypnotically on the tracks. The cabin was quiet except for a man snoring three rows away from them. She and Harry stared at each other silently, truly seeing each other for the first time.

He seemed different in this setting, she noticed. Away from his callous friends and his detached parents, he seemed lost and sad and beautiful and kind.

“I don’t think you’re a bad person,” she finally said.

He raised an eyebrow. “Really? And what exactly do you think of me? I know you don’t like me, so don’t even try to deny it.”

Allie rolled her eyes at him. “I don’t know, Harry. I think you’re richer than I’ll ever be. I think you’re smart but overconfident. If I’m being completely honest, I don’t think about you much at all.”

Harry smiled at her. Had she ever gotten a genuine smile from him before? She didn’t think so. She was used to his cold glares and bitter frowns, so this unfamiliar expression sent a shock of warmth through her.

“Don’t think about me at all, huh?” he said. “I’m hurt. Here I was, thinking I’d been in your dreams since thirteen.”

“Haunting my nightmares, maybe,” she retorted.

“Ouch.” He turned away from her to look out the window.

Guilt flared up in Allie, although she wasn’t quite sure why. “As if you care what I think of you.”

He turned back to face her. He wasn’t smiling anymore. “Why would you think I don’t care?” He sounded surprisingly genuine, completely dropping the teasing tone he’d previously used with her.

Allie suddenly felt anxious. She was trapped on a train with Harry Bingham, and he kept subverting her expectations. Without the judgment of West Ham hanging over her head, she didn’t know how to behave around him.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe I think that because of a conversation from many years ago, when we both agreed to pretend that there was nothing between us.”

The train’s fluorescent lights flickered out above them. For a moment, they were plunged into the dark. The only light was the blue glow of the city outside, which bounced brilliantly off Allie’s white sneakers.

Across from her, Harry’s eyes glittered dangerously. He looked tired but wild, like there was something lurking under his skin that only revealed itself in the dark.

It was at that moment that she realized how little she knew him.

Allie could feel her whole body tense up with renewed stress. She was grateful that the lights had gone out—hopefully, he couldn’t see her blushing.

Why was he divulging this to her?

Harry laughed. The sound was sharp. When he spoke again, his voice was newly guarded. “I never wanted to be bonded with you. I still don’t. But when I look at the ink on my skin, I think of you. Always. So yes, Pressman, I do care what you think of me.”

The train’s lights startled back on. In the full light, Harry studied her for one more moment. His gaze was so intense it felt like it was burning her. She searched for the words to respond to him, but they kept getting stuck on the way to her tongue.

Before she could come up with anything, he pulled a pair of earbuds from his pocket and shoved them in his ears. He closed his eyes, too, blocking out the sight of her. And just like that, he was back to ignoring her.

They arrived at the West Ham train station at five in the morning. The sun had not yet risen, and the dark sky was speckled with tiny stars. Just a short train ride had separated her from the everlasting citylight of New York. Her shopping spree and mugging almost felt as if they were figments of her imagination, although her scraped hands and the missing weight of her purse were painful reminders that the past twenty-four hours had been real.

“Need a ride home?” Harry asked.

“If you don’t mind.” She felt guilty for asking so much of him. She hadn’t even expected him to answer her call, and he had ended up coming all the way to New York to get her.

“It’s whatever,” he said. He rubbed his tired eyes and took out the keys to his Maserati.

Harry had parked next to the station. They got into the car like phantoms, sucked of all their energy.

Five minutes later, they turned onto Allie’s street. Harry made sure to pull over three houses before hers. That way, her family wouldn’t hear the purr of his engine or see her coming from his car.

“This is just between you and me, right?” Allie asked. “Just like before?”

Harry jerked his chin in response—a drowsy, clumsy attempt at a nod, she assumed. After a beat, he said, “Right. Just like before.”

There was nothing left for her to say to him. So she just said thanks, and then she exited the car.

He zoomed off the second her door shut behind her. As she watched the silhouette of his Maserati drive out of sight, she was struck once more by what a wild night it had been. She had been saved by her worst enemy. She had sat by him on an old train and in a luxury vehicle. She had shown her mark to him. How out of character—perhaps she had been seized by a bout of insanity after she was mugged.

She was thankful for his help. She was also ready to go back to forgetting that Harry even existed. With any luck, their relationship would return to the exact state it had been in before: nonexistent.

#harry bingham #allie pressman #the society #harry x allie #hallie #it took SO LONG (I'm sorry) but part 1 is finally here #soulmate au #hope you guys enjoy :)#fic: hallie #my fic #your name on my skin

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noonachronicles · 5 years

Text

Forget Me Not

Lee Hoseok/Wonho X Reader

Word Count: 22k

Warnings: Tamed usage of curse words. Smut, but cheesy, bad smut . It’s almost like I wrote it bad intentionally? (don’t even read it tbh). Also some of this was written during a cold medicine haze. So any part you don’t like was written while I was on cold meds and/or written at three in the morning and you can’t blame me. Everything you enjoy I was fully conscious for. Also I didn’t proofread this. I tried, but I’m so tired.

Genre: Mostly fluff, some smut, angst? FWB to True Love lololol.

A/N: Happy (belated) Birthday to my beautiful angel baby, Sara (@memoiresofaneternaldreamer ). I’m unexplainably sorry that this took me so long to get to you and I’m grateful for your endless patience with my shit. 🤣 Why you tolerate me I’ll never understand but it means everything to me to know that no matter what’s going on, I can always count on you to be there. For sticking with me through my worst, I wanted to give you some of my best.

Did I also use your birthday as an excuse to write out what is essentially 20k words worth of praise for Wonho based off of the disgusting amount of deeply internalized love I apparently have hidden away for him? Yes. Please don’t tell Changkyun. Now, let’s get to it.

Saturday

Hoseok 8:40PM: Right. Fucking. Now.

You 8:45PM: k

Monday

You 9:38PM: Busy?

Hoseok 9:40PM: On my way ;)

Thursday

You 8:54PM: Now.

You 8:58PM: Please. :)

Today

Hoseok 9:03PM: Need you.

Hoseok looked down at his watch as he was stopped at the red light. He'd already sent the message to let you know he was on his way over which gave him about 15 minutes to get to your place before you got too impatient. He had two choices. He could drive straight and make it to your place a little ahead of time. Or, he could turn right and stop at the store to get a bottle of that wine he knew you loved.

When the light turned green he made a split decision and went right. He might be a little late but your irritation with his tardiness would disappear at the sight of the wine.

In the parking lot of the store there was a homeless man begging for change. Hoseok would have to choose between walking passed the old man or stopping to pull out his wallet. As he always did, he stopped. He grabbed a few bills from his wallet to give to the man and talked to him for a while to see if he needed anything from inside before actually going in. He found the wine quickly but then he chose to get something to go with it. He eyed the fresh flowers and picked out a bright mix of spring colors, he knew you’d like those better than something more romantic like roses.

He could hear your complaining already, “You're not my boyfriend. Stop doing boyfriend things. I'll get the wrong idea.”

He could also already see the bright blush on your cheeks as you sniffed the petals and placed the flowers in a vase while he opened the wine. He smiled at the thought of it and made his way to checkout. There he had chosen to stand behind a woman that looked like she was nearly ready to go crazy. Two crying toddlers stomping around in the shopping cart and screaming at the top of their lungs.

Looking at his phone he thought about sending you a message that kids were the worst, but he didn't want you to know he'd stopped. The gifts were meant to be a surprise after all. He couldn't help but listen to the conversation happening before him as time ticked by.

“I'm sorry ma’am, that's still not enough.” the cashier frowned as the mother dug inside her purse for change.

“What if we remove the chicken? So it would just been the rice and vegatables.”

“I can pay for her order. All of it.” Hoseok stepped forward placing his things on the conveyor. “Just add my two items to her order and I can pay for it.”

“Oh, please sir…”

“It's not a handout, there's no need to look so ashamed. It's a gift between friends. Feed your boys well tonight. They're growing after all.” He smiled as tears built in the woman's eyes.

“Thank you.” She whispered, trying not to breakdown in front of her kids. He handed the change from the cashier to the woman who tried and failed to deny it from the persistent Hoseok.

Feeling good, better than good, he made his way back to his sleek, silver, sports car. As he made his way to you he thought about all the choices he'd made that had brought him here and how happy he was with his decisions. Maybe he was running late and going down the road with more potholes than the other but it was worth it. You were worth it to him.

He was nearly to your place when someone else's choices that day changed everything. A delivery driver that had chosen to have an extra drink with dinner. Who chose to take off down the road instead of sleeping it off in the cab of his truck. Who chose to flip through the stations on his radio rather than look up to see the red light. Whose choices brought him crashing into the silver sports car that was on its way to you.

~~~

Downtown always seemed so busy, so alive, especially on a friday night. People out celebrating having survived the work week, couples on dates, college kids looking for a party so they could avoid any weekend assignments until Sunday. The people were often rowdy and loud, the traffic most times louder. Movie theaters were packed and lines at all the best restaurants took longer than the movies lasted. Despite all of that, it had been a really wonderful second date so far. At least that’s what you’d been thinking about as Loey walked you down the sidewalk with his magnificently long arm over your shoulder, talking enthusiastically about the movie you’d just seen together.

“...but, anyway, that’s why I had really wanted to see that one. And I know it wasn’t really your thing, so I appreciate you going with me.” he was saying as you brought yourself back to the conversation. “Did you at least like it though?”

“Umm,” you released a heavy puff of air, “I mean, it was...nice. I liked most of it. There were a lot of, um…”

“Boobs.” he said with a nod, “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I swear I didn’t know. I wasn’t trying to like… set any moods.”

You laughed at his genuine nervousness, “It’s okay, I’m not upset. It was just an observation.”

“Well if you were upset and you’re just being sweet about it now, dinner will more than make up for it.” he beamed, “I got us a reservation at the best restaurant. It’s so popular right now, I’m amazed I got us in.”

Your blood prickled in your veins just slightly and you looked at your surroundings. You’d gotten so lost in your thoughts on the walk from the theatre. With his arm around you, you hadn’t even needed to pay attention to where you were walking. The street you were on was familiar, one you’d successfully avoided for months. Your old favorite coffee shop, your old favorite jewelry store, your old favorite bookshop. Everything you’d given up for fear of not having enough restraint to not walk into the restaurant you were walking towards right now. The one with a line of people outside the door, waiting enthusiastically for their chance to experience the best french fusion cuisine in the entire city. The sign above the door, gilded script on dark wood, read La Boucherie. Though to you it might as well have read Turn Back Now in bright, blinking neon lights.

“You don’t seem excited.” Loey said looking down at you with a lopsided pout, “You didn’t happen to go vegan since our last date, did you?”

“No, no.” you shook your head and plastered on your best smile, “This is great. I’ve heard really wonderful things.”

“We can go somewhere else.” he was a puppy, always so eager to please.

You grabbed his face in your hands and forced his big doe eyes to meet yours, “It’s fine. I don’t care where we go as long as it’s together. Also I just want to eat so...”

He clutched at his chest dramatically, “You really are after my heart.”

Once inside the restaurant you tried to keep breathing. Your belly was in knots and you weren’t sure how you were going to stomach a meal with your nerves twisted so tight. There was sweat beading at your hairline by the time the hostess sat you down, but you kept your smile on your face. If he was going to see you here, you were going to look happy. Happy without him.

By the main course you had calmed down quite a bit. Your table was in the main dining area and you knew that on weekends, since they were so busy, he would be working the bar. There hadn’t even been a glimpse of him all night, and the conversation with Loey was going really well. Your stomach aching from laughter rather than nerves. By the time the two of you were sitting, waiting for dessert and after dinner coffee to arrive, you had forgotten where you even were. You hadn’t thought about it at all when you excused yourself to go to the restroom. The restroom that was next to the bar. You’d even made it in and out without a hassle. It was only when you’d walked out of the restroom that your eyes fell behind the redwood bar top. You’d frozen, your heels jammed into some invisible cement, and you weren’t entirely sure you were still breathing either.

Four mirrored panels lined the wall behind the bar reflecting the packed tables, shelves on either side of the mirrors were lined with bottles of the top shelf brands that were offered. Everything else was well stocked, and well hidden, behind the bar itself. It was a sleek look and one you’d always found aesthetically pleasing.

The man behind the bar you’d used to find pleasing as well. His black hair was disheveled. The way you’d used to like, bangs swept across his forehead. They had clearly been busy all night. He had the sleeves of his white button up rolled up to his elbows, showing off the veins in his hardworking forearms. He was helping a customer who had apparently said something funny because you found yourself blinded by his incredible smile. Very suddenly you felt sick.

Honestly, standing there you weren’t sure if you were pissed off or aroused at the sight of him, which only left you more frustrated and flustered than before. After watching him for far too long you remembered Loey and found the strength to leave. At least the strength to get to where the bar met the dining area. It was there you hesitated. You were already here and if you could help it you were never coming back, you’d reasoned with yourself. You would only have this one opportunity to say your peace until you never saw him again. After a deep breath you marched over to an open space at the bar and looked at him expectantly.

He was helping someone new at this point but he noticed you immediately. His smile grew bigger than before and he held up a finger to let you know he’d be with you in a moment. You scowled slightly, having been trying to look angry but wondering if maybe you’d come off as happy to see him. He was either happy to see you or just being his generally happy self. When he was done at the other side of the bar he pushed his sleeves back up and moved over to where you were standing.

“Hey, what can I get for you?” he asked, dark brown eyes sparkling as they looked you over.

“I don’t want anything.”

A smug smirk spread across his face, “Oh, just came over to see me? I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be.” you snapped, “I just wanted to tell you, I’m here on a date. It’s going really well and I really like him. So I might have sex tonight...with him.”

His eyes went wide with surprise and he laughed, looking both amused and confused by your declaration. “I-I’m...that’s great? Congratulations.”

“I’m really happy now. I wanted you to know how happy I am.” you felt your confidence waiver the longer you stood in front of him. “So that’s why I came over here. To let you know I’m fine, better than fine.”

“Well I am happy you’re happy. I guess.” he nodded casually.

“Yeah, and no thanks to you.”

“Wh- I...I’m sorry. Do we know each other? You seem really mad at me.” he said finally just needing some clarification over this bizarre conversation.

“Seriously?” you scoffed, unsure how much longer you could hold up because you were pretty sure this man was trying to break your heart for a second time. “Are you joking? What...are we pretending like we never happened now? You just moved all the way on from me.”

“I...I’m so sorry. I wish I knew what you were talking about. If we had spent time together, that’s definitely something I would have wanted to remember.” he looked genuinely sorry, which made no sense to you. You weren’t crazy.

“Spent time together?” your jaw dropped to the floor, “I know we weren’t exactly dating but I thought we at least… You know what? Forget it. Just, I don’t know, go fuck yourself, Hoseok.”

You didn’t even give him the chance to process your words before turning on your heel and leaving. You were already almost in rage tears when you’d gotten back to the table. Loey’s smile instantly fading at the sight of you and turning into concern. After apologizing profusely you grabbed your things and begged him to stay and enjoy dessert, promising to call him when you were home. He was incredibly confused but you’d made it clear you needed, and very much wanted to be alone.

You made it out to the curb before the first tears hit and you threw your jacket on before starting down the sidewalk. Behind you there was someone calling for you to stop. Looking over your shoulder you could see it wasn’t Loey, it wasn’t anyone familiar at all so you kept going. You weren’t in the mood for being sexually harassed tonight. He was not relenting, once you passed the second building with him still on your tail you reached into your purse and wrapped your hand around the mace you kept.

“Ma’am! Miss! Please, stop. Ma’am. Jesus Christ, would you stop?” he called behind you.

Finally nearing the end of the block, tears streaking your cheeks, you whipped around furiously. “Listen, you fucking creep, I am clearly not interested. And the fact that you’re chasing after a vulnerable, sobbing mess of a woman really goes to show what kind of sick predator you truly are. Now step back before I mace you until you are forever blinded.”

“Wow…” he said, raising his eyebrows and taking several steps back “Are you done? I’m not trying to fuck you, okay? I saw you in the bar talking to Hoseok. Are you friends with him?”

You calmed slightly, but just barely. “I thought, at the very least, but apparently I wasn’t anything to him but forgettable.”

“Um… okay.” the stranger placed his hands together in front of his mouth, trying to decide the best way to say whatever it was he was going to say. “Here’s the thing. Hoseok was in a really bad car accident. He doesn’t remember most of the last six years of his life.”

“What?” you asked, unsure of what else to even say.

“I know it sounds... nuts. I don’t know what you know about memory loss, but they said he has post-traumatic amnesia. His is a hefty cocktail of retrograde amnesia and short term memory loss.” he shrugged, “The guy doesn’t even remember he was in an accident most days.”

“Fuck,” you muttered looking over this complete stranger, “You are the most legit wingman that has ever existed, but you can go back to your friend and let him know I’m over it. I’m over him.”

“No, listen, seriously! This isn’t some joke. The only reason he remembers who I am is because we’ve been best friends since grade school. I swear on my life, if you come back tomorrow, he won’t even remember tonight happened.”

With your heart pounding against your chest, your first thought was to wonder if he’d really been in some horrible accident. Your second was how you hadn’t been there for him if he was. Tears threatened the backs of your eyes once more and you took a deep breath.

You were pretty sure you knew the answer before the question left your mouth, but you had to ask anyway to be certain. “When was it? The accident...what was the day?”

Before he even got the date out all the way, you knew it was the night Hoseok was supposed to be coming to see you. It had been over a year but that day stuck with you like it had been one of the worst days of your life. It was the beginning of the first time you’d ever had your heartbroken.

Closing your eyes, a few tears fell down your cheeks. It was a lot to take in if it was true. If it was true that meant that he hadn’t intentionally hurt you. You exhaled deeply, “Thank you... for telling me. I have to go.”

You had already turned your back to him, more than ready to leave, when he said “Are you yeosin?”

“Excuse me?” you asked looking over your shoulder.

“Did Hoseok ever call you yeosin?”

This time you turned all the way back around as you thought back to one of the last times you’d been together.

Postcoital cuddling in his bed, tangled up in the sheets together. He’d been petting your hair, keeping you in a staring contest. Prolonged eye contact was his favorite game to play with you because it never took long for you to get too flustered to even look at him and he reveled in it. You could be anywhere. In bed or out to eat, alone or in a crowded room, it didn’t matter. He’d touch you, something small. Petting your hair, his thumb rubbing circles on your hip, running his foot against yours. Then he’d lock eyes with you and smirk while your stomach got tied up in knots, your core covered in warm honey. The easiest way to get you in the mood.

“Damn it, Hoseok!” you’d whined and then laughed, blushing as you’d finally looked away.

He’d only laughed, pulling you closer, and you’d sunk comfortably into the warmth of him, “Oh yeosin, maybe one day.”

“Why do you call me that?” you’d asked pushing his bangs off his forehead.

“Yeosin?” you’d nodded, and he’d smiled, “Because for me, that’s what you are.”

You’d rolled your eyes at his response, “That doesn’t make any sense. I’m not even your girlfriend.”

“You’re more than that. You’re my goddess, my queen.”

When you came back from the memory, his friend was still looking at you expectantly. You shook your head, “It doesn’t matter. I really need to go now.”

“Please, it does matter! If you ever cared about him at all...please, just please come back tomorrow.”

You sighed, “Maybe.”

“Okay! Maybe, I’ll take a maybe over a no.” he sounded genuinely excited, “My name is Minhyuk. Come straight to the bar tomorrow. I’ll look for you. We can talk.”

~~~

La Boucherie. You’d stood in front of the restaurant window for twenty minutes. Just eyeing the curl and flow of the cursive gold lettering that matched the lettering on the sign over the door. You weren’t even sure why you had come. Still not even positive this wasn’t some insane ruse. All day, and most of the night, you had debated on whether or not to actually show up. It would have been easy to go back and forth for the rest of your life contemplating whether or not you believed the validity of the story you were told. One thing you knew for sure though, for the last year of your life Hoseok had stayed on your mind. And even after months of anger and pain, seeing him had still made your heart race at a different pace than any of the other guys you’d tried being with after him. So you couldn’t help but think that it would be worth it to find out. For closures sake, you’d justified to yourself.

Saturday at the restaurant was just as bad as Friday or worse maybe, you’d thought walking into the thick crowd of people at the door. You told the hostess you were there to see Minhyuk and she waved you into the bar area. He was there, like he’d said, and as enthusiastic as ever. When he looked up to see you his face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. At least someone remembered you. He made you your drink of choice and practically begged you to stick around until he got a free moment to sneak away. You sat at the bar, sipping on your drink and scrolling through your phone. Minhyuk came by often to check up on you and make sure you didn’t need anything. He even made sure someone brought you an appetizer on the house. Nearly every time he passed he thanked you again for being there and for staying.

“You’re not flirting with him are you?��

You had just lifted your drink to your lips for a sip and had to actively try not to choke at the sound of his voice. You eyed him through the mirror behind the bar. He was smiling, head quirked slightly as he looked at the back of your head, waiting for you to notice him.

Dabbing your mouth with a cocktail napkin you turned to look at him. “Excuse me?”

“The bartender. You’re not flirting with him are you?” he asked and leaned against the bar between you and the guy who had been on the stool next to you.

He was so close you weren’t sure you could speak. You put your glass down slowly. “What would it matter to you if I was?”

“It’s none of my business. I know that. I just think there is something inherently wrong with the most beautiful woman in this entire building flirting with him. I felt a moral obligation to object. I say all of this with love, mind you, the guy’s my best friend.”

You placed your hand over your mouth to try and hide your smile, but the blush was already creeping over your cheeks and up your neck. He was a meal standing right in front of you. Tight back jeans ripped over the muscles in his thighs, his white button down from the night before was replaced with a black one to match the jeans. You loathed how impossibly soft, and pink his lips looked as he pouted at you slightly. Not to mention the way he was staring at you like you were the only other person in the world, forget being just the most beautiful woman in the building.

It was unfair, if this was true, you thought to yourself. If he was really standing in front of you looking like that. You knowing how good it felt to kiss those lips and at one point having been able to kiss them whenever you’d wanted. To already know the feel of his hands on your body, but be expected to do nothing about it because if he truly did have amnesia you were certain that kissing him like you wanted to now would be some form of sexual harassment. Even if he wouldn’t remember it tomorrow. Maybe even worse that he wouldn’t remember it the next day.

You gulped, “Well, who would you suggest I flirt with then?”

He raised his hand to chest, “Wow, I’m so sorry. Was I not being as obvious as I thought I was being? Beautiful, you should be flirting with me.”

“Oh, you were definitely being obvious. I just wanted to hear you say it.” you smirked and brought your drink back to your lips.

“Good.” he held out his hand, “I’m Hoseok.”

You bit your lip, trying to read his face. Did he really not remember you? Even from last night when you’d kind of gone off on him? You placed your hand in his, the feeling was electric.

“I’m y/n.” you said a little awkwardly, thrown by having to introduce yourself to someone who knew you.

“Fitting, a beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” You suppressed an eye roll you would have given old Hoseok. “Would you mind if I sat with you for awhile?”

He still held your hand in his, his thumb rubbing gentle circles over the top. With your free hand you motioned to the now empty seat behind him. He sat down, keeping your hand, and once he was situated he locked eyes with you. It felt hard to breathe, he was the definition of breathtaking. You grew warm all over, like being showered in sunlight. Then you started to feel the all too familiar tug in your belly. The tiniest sigh fell from your lips as he continued to circle his thumb on the back of your hand. You turned away first, per usual. He chuckled lightly as you took a sip of your drink.

“Um,” you put your glass down, “The bartender...he’s your friend, you said?”

He nodded, “Best friend for many years.”

“How do you know him? Do you work here?”

“Actually, I own this restaurant. Him,” he nodded towards Minhyuk, “I met back when we were in school.”

“Oh,” you nodded. Pretending to be impressed by something you already knew was harder than you expected. “How long have you owned this place?”

“Almost six months.” he said confidently. There was a complete and total belief that what he’d said was the truth. It wasn’t. Hoseok had owned this restaurant for over seven years already.

“You’re sure we’ve never met?” you asked curiously.

“Absolutely positive. I could never forget a smile like yours. That way you blush...” he boldly brushed his thumb over your cheek, “I would never forget you.”

He stayed with you at the bar for some time playing with your hand as you tried to casually ask him questions about your past lives together. You focused on reading his face when he answered and it didn’t hurt that his face had always been one of your favorite views. You remained unsure if you were trying to catch him in a lie or were just amazed at the fact that he might have actually forgotten everything. On top of everything running through your head there was also something strangely exciting about sitting there experiencing him flirt with you again the way he had the very first time you met.

If you were being entirely honest with yourself you’d missed him. It had been so easy to be angry and to hate him when you hadn’t seen him for weeks. In your head he had turned into an evil demon monster. Having him sitting right in front of you smiling and laughing, being the sweet and funny Hoseok you remembered, it made you ache for him like you hadn’t done for months.

“Have you ever tried the curry place down on fourth avenue?” you asked. That was the place that you would always order takeout from together.

He shook his head, “No, actually I’ve never had curry before.”

He hadn’t tried curry before the two of you met, you knew that about him. Hoseok had pretty singular tastes and didn’t really stray from what he knew, but you were too adventurous to let that fly in your relationship.

“If you’re ever around there, you should go and try it. It’s really good. I think you’d like it a lot.”

“I actually live right down the road from there. We should go together.” he offered.

“Yeah I think I’d really like that.” you said with a tiny smile.

Sooner than you’d wanted he confessed he had to leave. There was work to be done and he’d already spent a lot of time fooling around with you. The two of you had talked through most of the dinner rush. Although you felt a little guilty, you wouldn’t have changed it. It worked out well anyway because almost as soon as Hoseok was gone Minhyuk had come over, ready to talk. He walked you around the corner, passed the bathrooms. There was a small room with what looked like a lot of backstock for the bar. Kegs of beer, crates of wine. Minhyuk emptied one of the crates and flipped it over, offering it to you as a place to sit.

“He doesn’t remember anything.” you said quietly, your eyes welled up with tears instantly, the weight of it finally sinking in now that Hoseok wasn’t around to distract you. “He doesn’t remember us at all.”

“It’s not just you.” Minhyuk said stuffing his hands in his pockets, “It’s really everything. He doesn’t remember his mom's passing. His brother’s wedding. Most days he struggles with the code to his apartment and there have been days when he couldn’t even find the apartment itself. I can’t express how hard this has been.”

“So what, you have to like babysit him?” you asked, “Does he really forget everything, everyday, like in the movies.”

“Basically. I was the only one who could really afford to pick up and leave everything else to be here for him. He was in a coma for almost seven months. I immediately took over the restaurant for him while he was out. When he woke up with the memory loss, I stuck around. He doesn’t question me being here because I actually worked with him when he first opened. Which is about where he is in his timeline, memory wise.” Minhyuk let out an exasperated sigh, “He’s mostly fully functioning now, but he does get confused. He picks up on little things here and there. Usually the more repetitive it is the better he is at remembering. Being back at work really helped. He’s been good at remembering small tasks and it’s stirred up some progress but he’s been at a bit of a standstill lately. The problem with just doing the same things over and over is there’s nothing new challenging him or stimulating his memory. ”

“How long will he be like this? Forever? Why did he regress so far back? Is that common?”

Minhyuk shook his head, “No, the doctor doesn’t think it’ll be forever, but there’s no real timeline. They don’t know why he went back so far, maybe the extent of the damage. Most people only forget until just before the accident. He, his doctor, said that a trigger would be helpful in getting him back but we hadn’t really been sure what that could be. That’s actually why I asked you to come back.”

Pushing himself off of the shelf he’d been leaning on, Minhyuk pulled a phone from his back pocket. The screen was cracked to hell and there were scratches covering every inch. Hoseok’s old phone.

He handed it to you. “You’re the only one he talked to consistently that wasn’t me or his brother. He knew both of us before that six year mark so we don’t really trigger anything new for him. We were thinking...you might be what he needs.”

“We?” you asked absentmindedly scrolling through his phone.

He’d had dozens of conversations but most of them were with vendors for the restaurant or employees requesting time off or reporting an absence.You’d always kind of thought he worked too hard, but you didn’t realize the extent of it. You didn’t realize that he didn’t have anything in his life outside of work, except you. The conversation at the top was yours. He had you in his phone as Yeosin, which you’d never known. The last message was from you to him.

If I ever see your face again, Hoseok, it’ll be too soon.

You gulped, ashamed and embarrassed at how hateful you sounded in your last messages to him. For weeks after the accident, when you thought he’d just been ghosting you. You looked up at Minhyuk ready to explain. To apologize and swear up and down that you weren’t this person.

He shrugged, “You didn’t know.”

Next you scrolled through his photos. It felt a little like an invasion of privacy but you couldn’t help yourself. It was like learning parts of him he’d kept from you before and it was fascinating. You saw his brother at different holidays and special events. A fractured timeline of his niece through the years, from infant to toddler. Pictures of things for the restaurant like invoices, inventory, and what were probably pictures for insurance.

What surprised you was that most of his pictures were of you. Hoseok didn’t do social media, he didn’t really have time. He didn’t even run the media pages for the restaurant, he’d hired someone for that. That meant you’d never gotten to see all the pictures he’d taken of you, or realized just how many the two of you had together. Out to dinner, at different events, at home. There were cute ones, silly ones, sexy ones. An entire history of your relationship. You didn't realize you were crying until tears were splashing down on the cracked screen. You wondered if you had meant more to him than you realized and he’d just never told you. Then again it wasn’t like you’d ever told him what he meant to you either. Suddenly, you were incredibly worried you would never get the chance to know for sure.

“Um, we?” you asked again wiping your face clean and handing him back the phone.

“His brother, me, the doctor.” he said, “We would have tried to get ahold of you right when it happened, but we didn’t even know about the phone until he woke up. It had been lodged in the car, they put in a box with all the other stuff they salvaged. We hadn’t even thought to open it until we realized we needed to trigger his memory. By that time...”

You let out a small laugh, “I had changed my number. I’m so sorry. Have you tried just showing him the phone?”

“Yeah, a couple times. He just got weird and cried a lot. It didn’t really help.” he shrugged, “We think you could help though. You knew him the best during the last few years. I, we, really think you could be what brings him back.”

Thinking about the man outside this room with his beautiful smile and lingering gaze, you knew there was only one option. You looked up at Minhyuk and nodded, “What can I do? I’ll do anything.”

~~~~

It was simple really. All you were asked to do was come around and see him. Come see him and let him see you. That’s what you did and you did it often. Four times a week that first month. At first it was going to the restaurant, hanging out at the bar or eating a meal alone, waiting to see if he would notice you. He did, every time without fail, notice you. Each time he would come over to where you were and confidently make a pass at you. He would offer to comp your meals and buy you drinks. Several times he’d asked for your number. You’d have to tell Minhyuk so he could go back later and delete it, knowing it would be tough to explain why you were in his phone already the next time he asked you for it.

After weeks had gone by and you’d reintroduced yourself to Hoseok for the twentieth time, you and Minhyuk decided you needed to try something else. The two of you started manufacturing casual run-ins. He’d find out where Hoseok was going to be or ask him to come out with him somewhere and tell you where to go. Grocery stores were easy locations and so were coffee shops. You’d always get a little nervous because it was so uncertain how he’d react. The restaurant was more controlled and he was always so confident there. When he saw you anywhere else he seemed almost shy and would really work for it. It was so brand new to you to see him struggle a little.

At the grocery store he’d follow behind you for awhile, gathering courage. Usually if you stood for a while pretending to read the backs of boxes he’d make his way over, pretending to need something in front of you as a way to break the ice. Coffee shops usually meant him sitting somewhere in your line of sight. He’d make big movements to try and catch your attention. Pushing out his chest, stretching out his arms, subtle flexing that left you biting your lip to keep from laughing at how ridiculous of a flirt he was. He’d test the waters by matching your gaze over the tops of his glasses until you were blushing and flustered. Then he’d come over to your table and sit down with a pleased smile offering to refresh your drink.

Everytime, no matter where you were, like a moth to a flame he would find you. At first it was the best feeling in the world. It warmed you every time he’d find you. Everytime you were in a room full of people and the first thing he noticed was you. Everytime he would find a new way to get your attention, introduce himself to you, and flirt with you made you fall a little bit more for him. Then, slowly, it became the worst feeling. It was bitter for you because even though there was clearly something there, you were stuck. You were falling deeper in love with him than you’d ever been with anyone else. You learned and relearned every part of him, and all he ever wanted was your name. It got harder and harder for you to “meet” him, feeling so hopeless, knowing it was all for nothing. Desperate for a break you’d been avoiding messages and calls from Minhyuk for days.

Too frustrated by everything you just wanted a step back. A moment of your life where Hoseok’s face wasn’t the only thing you saw or the only thing you thought about. Work was turning out to be a decent distraction for that. Especially as there was a big opening at the art gallery you worked for in the upcoming weeks that you were busy preparing for. You were actually on the phone with the caterers for the event when you heard the chime of the door opening.

“I told Bianca when we spoke last week that it was eight hundred. Minimum.” you said calmly looking up from your paperwork to the visitor. You placed your hand over the mouth of the phone before saying “I’ll be with you in just a moment.”

Everything stopped as you caught sight of him. He may have had his back to you but that didn’t change the fact that you knew it was him. There was a black beanie pulled over his hair and his ears and he was wearing a leather jacket over a pair of light jeans. There was no reason for you to know it was him from where you were positioned but you did with one hundred percent certainty. You sunk down behind the front desk and took several deep breaths. There had been no plans made with Minhyuk for this, you didn’t even remember telling him where you worked. He had never once told you to expect this.

“Ma’am, hello?” you could hear the woman from the catering company on the phone, “Are you still there?”

“Oh my god,” you hissed into the receiver, “can you please give me a minute. I need a minute.”

You grabbed your cellphone off the desk and pulled it into your lap bringing up the conversation you had with Minhyuk.

You 1:15 pm: Are you here?

It took a minute for you to see the bubble pop up with its three little dots. Or it might have been seconds, but time got strange when you weren’t functioning properly.

Min 1:16 pm: ...where?

You 1:16 pm: At my work.

You 1:16 pm: Min

You 1:16 pm: Did you send him here?

You 1:16 pm: How do you know where I work?

You 1:16 pm: Min

You 1:17 pm: Min

You 1:17 pm: EXPLAIN PLEASE

Min 1:17 pm: Who

Min 1:17 pm: Wtf r u talking about??

Min 1:17 pm: I’m at the restaurant

Min 1:17 pm: haven’t heard from u in a week...

You looked up again to see that he had moved near the back of the gallery, still just observing the art. You could see now that he was wearing his tight maroon sweater under the jacket and your eyes went wide, he looked so good there was no way this wasn’t a trap.

You 1:18pm: Ho! Seok! Hoseok is at my work right now!

The bubble appeared and disappeared four different times and then…

Min 1:19pm: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

You 1:19pm: You’re a dead man Lee Minhyuk.

After the message sent you slammed your phone down on the desk and picked up the cordless phone for the gallery.

“Are you still there?” you asked hurriedly.

“Yes…”

“Okay, I’m going to have to call you back. Something super urgent came up, a fire to put out. I will call you back as soon as I can.” the woman on the other end sounded upset but you didn’t have the time to concern yourself with it.

You stood up and smoothed out your skirt before inconspicuously slipping back into the heels you’d kicked off under the desk. After several deep breaths you walked over to where he was standing. He’d been looking at a tall, nearly ten foot tall, narrow painting that you’d had in the gallery forever. He’d seen it before. He used to come in all the time to pick you up from work or to take you to lunch. When this painting came in originally he’d looked it over for a long time and said

“You’re never going to sell this.” you blinked at the Hoseok standing in front of you now, a sincere wave of deja vu crashing over you. He looked over at you and smiled, “I mean, not that I think you’re a bad salesperson it’s just who has the kind of space for it?”

It took an excruciatingly long moment for you to reply as he stood there looking at you, waiting. “Not the first time I’ve heard that. Um, unfortunately you’re not wrong. It’s been hard to move to say the least.”

“If I had somewhere to put it, I’d take it off your hands.” Not the first time you’d heard that either. He reached out his hand, “I’m Hoseok.”

“Hi Hoseok, I’m y/n. Did you need help finding something?” you asked tugging your lip between your teeth.

He shook his head, “No. I actually was just going to get lunch. I liked the way the door looked, thought I’d come inside.”

“The door… of the building?”

“Weird, right? I saw it and it just felt...familiar? Just felt like I’d been wanting to come in here for awhile, and I had the time so here I am.” he grinned. “Do you know any good places to eat around here?”

That earned him a suspicious look. He lived maybe a handful of blocks away from here and you knew his favorite ramen shop was about two streets over. “What are you hungry for?”

“What would you want? If you were going to lunch with me, what would you be hungry for?” he asked.

You crossed your arms over your chest and thought about it, “Anything I want?”

He nodded, “Anything at all.”

“Curry.” you said with a smirk waiting for a groan or a request for something else.

He made a bit of a face and then smiled, “Okay. Let’s go then.”

“What?” you asked surprised.

“Come get lunch with me.” he shrugged as if it was no big deal to ask someone you’d known for five minutes out to lunch.

“That’s bold of you. Anyway, I’m at work.” you said and looked around the empty gallery, “Alone. I can’t just leave.”

He hummed thoughtfully, “How long? How long until you’re not alone?”

“Could be hours.” you lied and looked down at your watch. Your coworker should actually have been back from her lunch twenty minutes ago.

“I’ll wait then.” he said clasping his hands behind his back and moving on to the next piece of art.

You couldn’t move, you just watched him as he walked around the gallery. Never once did he look back at you. He didn’t need to, he’d already seen the incredulous look that you’d had frozen on your face. Finally, after taking way too long to respond once again, you walked over to where he had stopped this time.

“Why would you wait that long just to have lunch with a stranger?” you asked.

He turned to you with a small smirk on his lips, “I think you’re pretty. I also thought it was cute, the way you were trying to hide behind your desk when I came in. So I’d like to have a meal with you. Also I’ve never had curry before. I wouldn’t know the first thing about what to order, I’ll need you to come with me to tell me what’s best.”

You scoffed, “You think you’re so charming, don’t you?”

“What, you disagree?” he laughed.

“I didn’t say that.” you blushed and looked away.

You both turned at the sound of the chime for the front door to see your coworker scurrying in. Big sunglasses on her face, big purse on her shoulder, and big phone against her ear. She had a finger raised as if to shush you before you even thought to say anything. The two of you watched her go around the desk to drop her bag off and then click clack her way to the restroom without even so much as a hello.

“Well would you look at that?” he said, “You’re not alone anymore.”

You opened your mouth to say something but thought better of it and ended up just rolling your eyes, much to his amusement. When Mina returned from the restroom she had her sunglasses on the top of her head and was just pulling her phone from her ear.

“Hey, Y/n! Soooo sorry I’m late. We had italian for lunch. I had too many bellinis and honestly the service was terrible. It’s not really even my fault I’m late.” She looked up at you finally and her eyes went wide, “Oh. My. God. Is that H-”

“Hey!” you shouted enthusiastically, “Hey, Mina. Mina...hey! Can I talk to you?”

“Sure,” she said eyeing Hoseok as you hurried over to the desk where she was standing. When you arrived she leaned in and said, “That is Hoseok, right?”

“Yes,” you said quietly.

“I can’t really blame you for going back to him, he looks…” she ran her tongue across her lip as she looked over at him. “So good.”

You sighed, “We’re going to go to lunch, so I’ll be gone for a little bit.”

She raised a dramatic eyebrow. “Oh, you think you’ll be coming back to work after. That’s so cute.”

“Mina! Please, it’s just lunch.”

“Just lunch...with that man? I don’t think so, y/n.” she said waving over at Hoseok and he nodded kindly in return, “Yeah, leave your panties here, you won’t be needing them where he’s taking you.”

“Anyway…” you said and grabbed your purse off of the desk, “I’ll be back. Hoseok, let’s go.”

He hurried to the front where you were and went to open the door for you.

“I won’t hold my breath!” Mina called in a song song as you made your way outside.

Lunch with Hoseok had been amazing. At several points you’d questioned why you had ever wanted space from him in the first place. You also realized you’d gotten so good at feigning interest in the things he’d repeatedly told you about himself as first meeting banter. The best part by far had been something new. It had been ordering Hoseok his favorite dish from the restaurant and watching his face explode in delight at the very first bite. He made you laugh so hard your cheeks ached and the two of you ate so much you thought you’d never have to eat again as long as you lived.

Afterwards he asked if you wanted to take a walk with him or if you had to go back to work right away. You didn’t want to prove Mina wrong so you sent her a quick message to let her know you wouldn’t be back that afternoon. You also found a message from Minhyuk swearing he had nothing to do with it, which you ignored. Hoseok walked the two of you down the street to the park that was across from his apartment building. You walked and talked down the bike path and around the small duck pond and then back up again. Finally you begged for the chance to sit down.

Your work heels weren’t meant for leisurely strolls, and you’d become worried they were filling with blood. Though truth be told, if he’d wanted to you would have kept walking for miles, but you were grateful that you didn’t have to. You were grateful he had found an unoccupied bench for the two of you to share. You sat there for some time, at one point the wind picked up and he threw his jacket over your shoulders to make sure you were comfortable enough to stay with him a little longer.

“I’m really glad I walked into your work today.” he said moving a few stray hairs away from your face. The lights in the park started to turn on as the sun neared setting.

“Me too.” you agreed watching his tongue brush over his lips. This, you’d thought to yourself, would be a good moment for him to kiss you. If he didn’t you imagined you might scream out of frustration.

The two of you sat there for a little while longer, just watching each other. It didn’t have quite the intensity of his staring game, but it still left knots in your stomach. Your whole body was vibrating as you caught him eyeing your mouth. He gulped lightly and it felt like this was it. So you sat still as a statue as he leaned in, worried you might scare him off if you made any sudden movements. He was so close, nose brushing lightly against yours close. Then he pulled away.

“I’m so sorry.” he shook his head, “I don’t know why I did that. We just met, that was really out of line. I apologize.”

You sat quietly for a minute. All of your sexual frustration threatening to boil over. Little white bubbles stacking up beyond your capacity, staying put by nothing more than the grace of god. Looking at his face you knew you couldn’t yell at him, despite the urge to that was tugging at your chest. It wasn’t his fault, he didn’t know, but this wasn’t your fault either. It wasn’t fair for anyone.

“I can’t do this anymore.” you sighed and stood up, “I can’t.”

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“I just can’t, Hoseok. I’m so sorry.” you said through trembling lips as you pulled his jacket off your shoulders.

He took the jacket from you reluctantly, “It was a mistake, I won’t try it again. We don’t have to do anything, I promise I didn’t expect anything from you. I just wanted to spend time with you.”

“That’s the problem!” you groaned in frustration, he probably already thought you were crazy. You thought you might as well get it all out so he could go to bed and forget any of it happened. “I know it’s not your fault, but you can’t possibly understand how hard it is for me to be falling so desperately in love with a man that never remembers who I am! I don’t get to kiss you or touch you like I want, like I was used to. Every day it’s like you’re meeting me for the first time and you would never want to spend time with a girl that desperate that she begs for your physical attention after the first five minutes of meeting her.”

“I…” it was clear he was already confused by everything you were saying but it was too late, you just had to get it out.

“No, I’m not done.” you said lifting your finger, “Because now it’s so much more than that. It’s more than kissing you and holding you. It’s the inside jokes that you’re on the outside of. It’s the memories that you can’t remember and feeling like maybe I made all of it up. Maybe I made us up. Worst of all...worst of all, it’s knowing in the back of my mind that maybe before all of this you could have fallen in love with me too. I could have made you love me and now I can’t even get you to remember me.”

“I don’t...I don’t know what to say.”

“No, I know. I know.” you sniffed and smiled weakly, “I’m going to kiss you. Is that okay?”

He didn’t know why it felt right but he nodded, “Yeah.”

You grabbed his face in your hands and pulled his mouth to yours. It felt so good to have his soft, full lips against yours. He pulled you close, letting you sink into his chest. It was bittersweet. Kissing him again was exactly what you remembered it could be, but that only reminded you how much it hurt to not have it all the time. You left a quick peck of a kiss and pulled back.

“I’m gonna leave. Um, I’ll call Minhyuk and let him know.” You ran your hand over his chest with a sigh, “I’m really, I’m really sorry I wasn’t...strong enough for this. I hope you get to remember.”

“Minhyuk?” he asked still dazed and very much confused, “You know Minhyuk?”

“Yeah, you should call him. He can explain everything.” you grabbed your purse off the bench and slipped on your shoes. Hoseok didn’t know what else to do but stand there and watch you. Everything you had confessed, the kiss, and his feelings on all of it still processing very slowly. When you were ready you leaned up one last time and kissed his cheek, “I really do love you, Hoseok. I wish you could remember that.”

~~~

It was lucky for you that it was the start of your weekend because when you got home and sunk into your pajamas you knew that you’d have been useless if you were forced to try doing anything beyond laying in bed watching sappy romance movies and eating ice cream a gallon at a time. You called Minhyuk to try and explain why you couldn’t do it anymore through hefty sobs but he wasn’t understanding anything you said. You ended up just texting him something of an essay that didn’t make much more sense than your verbal ramblings but you’d figured you’d tried your best and it’s all you could do.

It made you incredibly frustrated, mad, and just generally upset that you had to get over Hoseok for a second time. Part of you wished you’d never seen him again, that you didn’t know about the accident. That you hadn’t spent the last couple of months fruitlessly trying to help him get his memory back. Mostly you just wished that he would come back to you.

Sunday morning you woke up fairly early. You showered and got ready for the day like a normal human being, and made your way down the street to the grocery store. The pretense was that you were going to pick up some vegetables and fruit, something sustainable. Part of you knew all along that you were just going to get more ice cream. As you walked up the sidewalk to your apartment building you saw a familiar face. You shifted your bag of groceries in your arm as you watched Hoseok, wondering what he was doing there.

“Seriously, Minhyuk…” you muttered under your breath.

Hoseok looked completely lost, just slowly spinning around in a circle like he was looking for something specific. As you got closer to him, he stopped. You could see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat with a gulp and you wondered for the briefest moment if maybe he remembered you, if you were the something specific he’d been looking for. You kept his gaze, half expecting him to say something to you. Instead his cheeks grew a shy blush and he looked away as you passed him. Maybe not. The fact that he didn’t say anything to you only made you more curious as to why he was there if it really wasn’t for you. You walked up the few steps of the stoop and tried to juggle your groceries as you dug into your purse for your keys.

“Do you need some help?”

Even though you knew he was there, his voice still took you by surprise. You looked over your shoulder and smiled, “No, thanks. I got it.”

“Okay.” He smiled back lightly and shoved his hands in his pockets before walking down the sidewalk a little ways.

Once you got yourself inside you stopped to grab your mail. You could still see him from your mailbox, wandering around aimlessly. He looked like a sad, lost puppy and all the frustration you’d felt start to dissipate yet again. You let out a long deep sigh as you realized that it was never going to be over for you, not when it came to him.

Leaving your groceries on the shelf in front of the mailboxes you walked over to the door and pushed it open. “Do you need help with something?”

Hoseok spun around with a bright smile on his face. “I don’t know.”

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion. “What?”

“Um…” he looked around the street once more and then jogged the short way to your stoop. “I don’t know what I’m doing here. You ever get the feeling you’re supposed to be somewhere but once you get there you’re not sure what you’re there for?”

“Literally never...done that” You laughed.

“I know it sounds crazy.” He shook his head and looked back up at you, meeting your gaze but this time with more confidence. “I woke up this morning and I knew that I had to be here, that it was important that I come here.”

You gulped, “Like right here, to this spot?”

“I didn’t know, not it first. It was more general. I’ve been walking around this neighborhood all morning and then when I got to this street I just knew I was close and then I got to that light post over there and...can’t figure out where I’m supposed to go. But I know this is approximately where I need to be. I haven’t been able to figure out why. It feels familiar but nothing looks familiar. Does that make sense?”

“Why did you feel like you needed to come here?” You asked leaning against the doorframe.

His smile faltered slightly. “I felt bad, I think. Guilty maybe, like I needed to make something right. My heads been weird lately. I thought I’d know when I got here.”

“Well…” you sighed, had he really come all this way to make up with you without even knowing it? Or were you just reading too far into it? “If you’ve been outside all morning you should come in for awhile and warm up. You don’t want to get sick. I can make you some tea.”

“Really?” He asked, looking thrilled at the idea, “You’d do that for a stranger?”

You let out a small laugh, “Yeah...I’d do that for a stranger. Come on, I’m letting all the hot air out.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” he said slipping inside of the building. He watched as you got your mail, you’d been too distracted by him to do it before. Then he snatched up your bag of groceries before you could, “I’ll carry them. It’s the least I could do.”

“I guess, if you really want to.” you grinned walking over to the stairs.

“I’m Hoseok, by the way.”

You let out a little hum and nodded, “Nice to meet you, Hoseok. I’m y/n.”

Inside your apartment you brought the groceries to the kitchen and told Hoseok to make himself at home as you started the water for the tea. As you waited for the water to heat up you peeked around the corner of the kitchen and watched him as he scoped out your living room. He looked cozy in his old, oversized, black hoodie and a pair of gray sweatpants. You let yourself imagine, just for a moment, how nice it would be to get back into your pajamas and curl up on the couch with him. Luckily the whistle of your tea kettle woke you from your fantasy and you slipped back into the kitchen.

When you came back into the living room with the tea he was sitting in front of your record collection, flipping through the old vinyls. He looked up at you with a smile, “This is really cool.”

You handed him one of the cups and sat down on the floor with him, “It was mostly inheritance from my dad. I’ve picked up a handful here and there, but it was mostly his thing.”

“Can I put something on?” he asked hopefully.

“Sure.” you shrugged and while he flipped through the records you crawled over to the couch and started tossing throw pillows onto the floor in front of the record player.

After you crawled back over you laid on your back with your head on one of the pillows and closed your eyes. You weren’t entirely surprised when the first song started to play. It was one he’d played often when he came over to your place before. A well worn compilation of vintage soul songs, it had been your dads favorite record too. Hoseok laid down on his stomach, tucking a pillow under his chest, and held the tea you’d made in his hands.

When you opened your eyes he was looking down at you with a curious smile, “Is this okay?”

“This is really nice. I like it.” you nodded.

You watched him for awhile as he bobbed his head and moved his shoulders to the beat of the songs, taking sips every now and then of the tea in his hands. He looked happy and content. You thought to ask him what he was thinking about but didn’t want to bother him. When he was warm from the tea he moved his pillow so that he could rest his head on it. Then you watched each other quietly as the music played in the background.

“Did you ever figure out what you came here for?” you asked.

He smiled shyly and turned his face into the pillow for a second before looking back at you, “Yeah, I think I did.”

~~~

Minhyuk smirked when he saw you walk into the bar that evening. Without offering you a greeting he started making your usual drink as you found a seat.

“I see you changed your mind.” He said sliding the glass in front of you. “That didn’t last long at all.”

You gulped down a mouthful of the drink and placed your glass back on the bar. “Don’t boast, it doesn’t suit you.”

“What changed your mind?” He asked leaning against the bar top.

“Hoseok.” You answered simply.

“Speaking of, he’s not here tonight. He’s off today.”

“Yeah, I know. I saw him earlier. We spent a couple of hours together.” You cleared your throat, “That’s why I’m here to see you, we need to talk. Something is changing with him.”

“Something good or something bad?”

“Good. I think.” You said, “He came to me today.”

“He usually does make the first move.”

“No, he found me. I didn’t seek him out or make myself available to him somewhere. I got home from the store and he was standing in front of my apartment. He had no idea why he was there, but he came to me. If you really didn’t send him to my work like you say you didn’t, that means it’s the second time this week he’s done that.”

“Hold that thought.” he said and moved down the bar to the customer that had just sat down.

You wondered what it meant, if it was possible it meant that he was getting more memories back. How could he have known where to go if it weren’t for some subconscious memory trying to make its way to the surface. If that was the case then it meant there was finally a sliver of hope that you could hang onto and that’s all you’d really needed all along. A vision of a light at the end of the tunnel.

“Okay.” Minhyuk said sliding back over to you, “I want to get into the Hoseok thing, that’s important, but I also need you to clarify what the hell you were talking about the other day when you said you were done. Can you tell me now without crying? Hoseok seemed to think you were, I don’t know, the way he described it just sounded like you were horny, to be honest.”

Your cheeks burned red as he smirked at you. “No… that’s not… not exactly. I mean, okay, yes. I am… horny or whatever, but it was more than that. It is more than that. I have feelings for him and he can’t have feelings for me because he can’t even remember me. And yes, sometimes I want to kiss him and more-”

Minhyuk snorted, “Kiss him and more. Are you five?”

“Shut up.” you rolled your eyes, “I want more from him but everyday is the first day we’ve met for him and there’s no good way to try sleep with someone an hour after you’ve met.”

“You’ve spent all this time with him and never asked him to smash?”

“No!” you gasped, mortified, “Total time, yes we’ve spent a lifetime together, but he doesn’t know that. From his point of view every time we meet it’s the first time and it’s only for like three or four hours max. No one is just going to ask a stranger to have sex with them a few hours after they’ve met.”

He scoffed, fully amused at your assumption. “Uhhh, false. Guys will. Guys will have sex with women within minutes of meeting them.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Men are disgusting and I’m a man, so you’re not wrong.” he shrugged and leaned against the bar. He knocked his knuckles against the wood rhythmically as he thought. “How many dates did you go on before you guys originally hooked up?”

“Well,” you flushed slightly. “It was...the first...date.”

He raised his eyebrows at you, “Then what’s the issue? Just make a move already.”

“It was different that day!” you argued. “We met early in the morning and ended up spending all day together. We were with each other for over twelve hours by the time we got to his place. So it was like we’d gone on three dates, just all at one time”

“Okay, then just do that again.” he said as if it was the obvious answer, “It’s not like we haven’t fabricated all of your other dates.”

“This one we can’t. The day we met we were both going to a festival. That’s why it worked out the way it did. It’s not like there are festivals happening all day everyday just because I need one.“

“Festival?” Minhyuk asked looking suspicious. “What kind of festival was this?”

“Just a music festival down by River Park.”

“Bullshit,” he laughed, “Hoseok would never go to a music festival. He hates that crap. He doesn’t even like to go to regular concerts. He thinks they’re a waste of time and money.”

“Well I don’t know what to tell you. He was there with me all day.”

“Who mentioned this festival first, you or him?” he asked, clearly not letting it go.

“I don’t know, it was like four years ago!” you said shaking your head, but then you realized you did remember. “It was me. I was wearing some dumb outfit and he said ‘looks like you’re going somewhere fun’ and I told him about the festival, it’s how we started talking actually.”

“Hoseok, you sly dog.” Minhyuk grinned, “I’d bet a million and a half dollars he didn’t even know about the festival until he met you.”

You shook your head in denial, “He had a ticket.”

“A ticket he could have purchased online, day of the event, using his phone?” your face scrunched in confusion. “It didn’t seem weird to you that he was going alone or not meeting anyone there?”

“Not at all, because I was going to go by myself before I met him that day.”

Minhyuk stopped and looked at you for a long while. It was like he was looking at you for the first time. You squirmed uncomfortably under his lingering gaze. You reached over the bar and grabbed an olive before throwing it at him. “Oh my god, what?

“I can’t believe it took me so long to realise it. It’s so clear, everything makes so much more sense now.”

“What is clear? Make your weird little brain make sense to me!” you complained.

“Hoseok was in love with you from day fucking one.” he chuckled to himself, “It’s why he always finds you. Subconsciously he has to remember. I knew, I knew all we needed was you. We just have to figure out what to do with it.”

“In love with me? Are you kidding? We weren’t even dating.”

“You went to dinner together. You watched movies together. You went to festivals together. You made him dinner and he bought you birthday presents. Oh, and you had sex regularly...What the hell do you call that?”

“Nothing!” you argued, “We didn’t call it anything. That was the point. We didn’t have time for dating and feelings. We were just friends with benefits.”

“Well.” Minhyuk sighed, “We learned two things today. One piece of good news, one piece of bad news.

“Yeah, what’s that?” you asked taking a drink.

“Bad news is you’re a totally useless idiot. Good news is I wasn’t the last one on earth to figure out you two were in fact dating and also in love with each other.”

You rolled your eyes yet again, your favorite thing to do when Minhyuk was around really, “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Get your head in the game, y/n!” he said reaching over the bar and dramatically strangling the the air in front of your neck, “He’s in love with you, you’re in love with him. Let’s figure out how to fix this mess!”

~~~

Your hands were shaking as you stood in line for coffee at your favorite cafe. It had taken Minhyuk all of ten minutes to come up with a plan and even though you weren’t sure it was going to work you also didn’t have any better ideas. It also wouldn’t hurt to try considering Hoseok would just forget by tomorrow if everything went to hell. He was standing in line ahead of you getting his coffee, his phone pressed between his shoulder and his ear. You said a silent prayer as he thanked the barista and turned around to leave.

“I’m literally right across the street. It doesn’t make sense for me to not come in today.” He was still on the phone, with who you knew was Minhyuk. As he got closer you took a deep breath and stepped to the side just a few inches. His shoulder crashed into yours. There was the sound of a splash and then he said, “Shit, Min. I gotta go.”

You turned towards him and touched his forearm lightly, “Oh my god, are you okay? I’m so sorry!”

He looked from your hand to your face where he stared for quite some time, just blinking at you. “No. Yeah! I’m fine, did I get you with my coffee?”

“Um,” you looked down at your outfit, “My shoes a little but that’s okay. I’m really sorry.”

“Please,” he shook his head, “It was entirely my fault. I was on my phone, not paying attention.”

“Even still, please let me get you another coffee. Do you have a minute to wait with me?”

Hoseok looked down at the phone in his hand, Minhyuk had said not to come in today, that he wasn’t needed. Looking back up at you he smiled, “Yeah. I have all day actually.”

“Awesome!” You beamed, “I’m going to go get something to clean this up with. Stay here for just a minute, save our place in line?”

“Of course.”

You let out a deep breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding as you stepped away. Phase one of Minhyuk’s plan was right on track.

According to Minhyuk phase one was equal to the first date. A “meet cute at the coffee shop” he’d called it. You were impressed at how everything had happened exactly like he said it would. After the mess was cleaned up and you bought Hoseok his new coffee you asked if he’d wanted to sit with you awhile and he was thrilled by the idea. Four hours of effortless conversation passed. Part of you didn’t even want to move on to phase two, you’d been so happy with how phase one was turning out. Even if you would have been fine joking around and laughing with him in that cafe for four more hours, you moved on with the plan.

Phase two, or date two, was the fall festival down at the park where the original music festival had been. Minhyuk had found out about it after thirty seconds of googling and made a terrible joke about how you’d been wrong when you said there weren’t festivals whenever you needed them. It wasn’t the same exact thing as your first first date, but it could still be a lot of fun if he agreed to it. You asked Hoseok if he’d heard about the festival and when he said no you asked, ‘even though you’d just met’, if he wanted to go check it out with you. He agreed immediately and the two of you walked down to River Park. A true gentleman, he bought your entrance ticket but you only let him do it after he promised to let you buy him a corndog.

For hours you walked around the festival. You did some people watching, lots of judging and even more laughing. You got on some sketchy looking festival rides and felt grateful every time you walked off of them in one piece. And you ate way too much fried food. Your latest culinary decision had been a pumpkin spice funnel cake and a hot chocolate. Hoseok drank hot apple cider while eating his second corndog of the day. His was a combination you couldn’t get behind entirely, but he seemed to be enjoying it and you loved to see the smile on his face.

As the two of you walked down the midway you tore a piece of your funnel cake and held it up to his mouth, “So good, try it.”

You bit your lip as he leaned forward and wrapped his lips around your fingers before sucking the treat into his mouth. He hummed as you pulled your hand away, “There’s so much delicious, horrible food here and I must eat it all. Why?”

“I don’t know,” you laughed, taking another bite, “Isn’t it the best?”

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” he pointed enthusiastically across the way from where you were standing to one of those balloon and dart games. “There. We have to go over there.”

You groaned, “Those are just money traps. Let’s go to the fun house!”

“After.” he said grabbing your wrist and pulling you across the crowded midway with determination.

Very politely he asked you to hold his apple cider and you obliged. He shoved the rest of his corndog in his mouth, and was standing with it bulging from his cheek as he dug out his wallet. You watched as he exchanged his cash for three darts. In a manner that was all too serious for you he took his stance. His tongue was sticking out of the side of his mouth as he eyed one of the balloons. One out of three balloons had popped, winning him a tiny plastic toy. Apparently that wasn’t what he wanted because he pulled out more cash from his wallet and exchanged it for more darts.

It was clear after sometime that you were not going to be leaving that game until he got whatever it was he was after. In the time it was taking you finished your funnel cake and neither of you had a drink left. You’d even left at one point to find a trash, found a clown making balloon animals and purchased a balloon crown. When you finally came back he was still going and you put the crown on his head and told him it was good luck. There was a growing pile in front of him of very cheaply made, small and medium toys. Things were getting tense as he was down to his last few bills.

“What are you even after?” you asked curiously as he received another bunch of darts.

“You’ll see.” he took his first shot, the dart bursting through a red latex balloon. He got the second one too, blue balloon bits exploding with a pop! With a contemplative sigh he looked over at you and asked very seriously, “Yellow or green?”

“Green.” you answered quickly and confidently.

He focused ahead and took a deep breath before throwing the last dart. The point of the dart blasted through the green latex balloon and you couldn’t help but scream out in excitement. You laughed as Hoseok turned and lifted you off the ground to spin you around.

“You did it!” you exclaimed as he put you back down.

“Great,” the carny said with much less enthusiasm. “Toad or bunny?”

“Bunny.” He smiled, leaving his arm around your hip as he waited for his prize.

Both of you watched as the carny grabbed his long hooked stick and hoisted it into the mess of stuffed toads and bunnies above his head. He gave it a little jiggle and the huge bunny in his little velvet vest with his tiny bowtie tumbled from the sky.

“All of this because you wanted a bunny?” You asked shaking your head.

“No.” He handed you the bunny and smiled, “I don’t need a bunny, I am a bunny. The bunny is for you so can take him home and think of me when you see him.”

Your mouth fell in awe and amusement. He was such an incredible flirt and you weren’t sure when you’d started taking that for granted. Giving the bunny a tight squeeze you remembered that he had in fact told you he was a bunny when you’d first met and that he’d said to be gentle with him. At the time you’d thought he was just joking, but you’d been learning more and more that despite his manly physique he was the softest, sweetest man you’d ever met.

“You’re keeping all of them?” You asked genuinely surprised as he scooped up the whole stack of smaller prizes in his arm.”

“No, not keeping them, but I did pay for them” he looked over at you and smiled, pleased by the way you were holding onto the stuffed bunny. “Fun house?”

As you made your way down the midway once more, headed towards the fun house, you watched him as he passed out his stack of prizes to kids he saw along the way until his arms were empty. When that was done he threw his freed arm over your shoulder and you blushed into your fluffy, oversized gift. Phase two - second date, was going flawlessly.

~~~

With your arms wrapped tightly around your bunny you stood face to face with Hoseok in front of the exit gates of the festival. People were swarming around you as they tried to leave. Broke teenage couples that spent too much money cheap trinkets and rides all day, parents with pink cheeked toddlers crashed out against their shoulders. You tugged your lip between your teeth, it was time to initiate phase three - date three.

“So…” you said slowly, this was the one you were least certain he’d agree to. “I know it’s late and we’ve already spent all day together. You’re probably tired of me and want to go home but...my friend is spinning at a club a few blocks away. If you’re at all interested in spending even more time with me, I can get us in. No wait, no cover, maybe free drinks?”

“Ummm.” you were trembling, so nervous he was going to say no. “I was actually trying to think of an excuse to spend more time with you myself, so I would love to go.”

“Oh.” you sighed with relief. You felt warm all over despite the chill of the fall air. “Well, good.”

Before the two of you even got passed the gates he’d scooped up your hand in his and you led him the few blocks to the busy club. There was a line that wrapped around the corner of the building of people waiting to get into the club, but you dragged Hoseok, and Bunho, who Hoseok had named for you, to the front of the line. You dropped your name and were let in without a seconds worth of waiting. You could still hear the groans of the line outside as you walked into the building.

Inside the club was packed from wall to wall. You squeezed Hoseok’s hand as you led him to the DJ booth, laughing to yourself as people stared at the giant stuffed bunny in your arms. In the booth you were greeted by your old friend Hyungwon. He’d met Hoseok before plenty of times but you weren’t worried about him remembering as he met hundreds of people a night and was usually already tipsy before his sets even started. If you didn’t meet him outside of a club he was never going to remember you. After giving Hoseok a friendly handshake, Hyungwon wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug as a greeting and told you how happy he was you could make it. He handed over two neon green wristbands that were good for free drinks at the bar, and he promised to take care of Bunho in the booth while you had fun.

“Will you dance with me?” You asked against Hoseok's ear once you were on the crowded dance floor.

He looked so tense, but he nodded in agreement anyway. You tried several different moves in an attempt to get him to loosen up but you could tell he wasn’t feeling it yet.

Remembering the wristbands you put one in his wrist and the other on yours before shoving him to the bar. There the two of you indulged in several shots of top shelf tequila and a couple of mixed drinks. Within no time at all you both were in the best of spirits and you couldn’t shake the urge you had to dance. You asked again if he wanted to dance and this time he nodded enthusiastically

He held your hips as you both made your way back to the dance floor. It was a tight fit all around but you found a decent spot near the back where there was actually enough space to move. His cheeks and the tips of his ears were pink from the alcohol as he danced with you in the crowded club. You were glad he’d finally loosened up and seemed to be having fun.

You danced for what felt like hours and you wanted nothing more than to keep going. The pair of you jumped around, arms flailing recklessly through the air. He grabbed your hand and twirled you around under his arm several times.

Then he spun you out and pulled you back into his arms. Your heart was pounding in your chest, your chest pressed against his. Both of you were short of breath. Everyone around you kept dancing while he held you close. Not moving, not speaking, barely breathing. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt and you leaned in just slightly, testing the waters. He leaned towards you, until your sweaty foreheads were pressed together. Your eyes hadn’t left his lips, but you were hesitating and you were sure why.

“Are you gonna kiss me or what?” He grinned.

That was the invitation you’d apparently needed. Pulling on his shirt you tugged him that half an inch closer until your lips were pressed together. You smiled against his mouth. Really pressing yourself into him, you lifted your hands from his chest to his hair. His tongue brushed against your mouth and you let him in. You tried not to cry as you thought about how this was happening. Not some sad pity kiss in the park. A kiss you both wanted and were clearly enjoying. It felt so damn good. One of his hands slid up your back and cupped the back of your neck. You thought for a moment how you’d be okay doing this and only this for the rest of your life.

That only lasted until Hoseok pulled away from your lips and leaned close to your ear to whisper, “Do you want to get out of here?”

That one single question had an implication that left fireworks going off in the pit of your stomach.

~~~

The walk back to Hoseok’s place wouldn’t have taken that long. Even still he hailed the first cab he saw once you were out on the sidewalk outside of the club, not wanting to waste any more time. He’d pulled you into his lap in the backseat where you kissed the entire ride. In the elevator ride you stood on opposite sides. He held onto the bar behind him as he smiled over at you, anxiously tapping his leg. You peeked at him from between Bunho’s big ears, squeezing the bunny close to your chest. You couldn’t help but giggle at the feeling of anticipation running through you.

Once the elevator opened Hoseok was blasting passed you through the door, gripping your wrist tightly and leading you down the long hallway. You said a silent prayer that he’d get the code right the first time and almost cheered out loud when he did. Finally inside, your purse and giant stuffed bunny were left by the wayside as he pulled your hips towards his own.

His hands slid down your ass and backs of your legs until he’d hooked his arms around your legs to pull them around his waist. You had released several moans into his mouth. The way your body was reacting to his made you feel like he might as well already be inside you. You were feverish, and aching all over for more of him. So close to the release you’d been needing.

“You gotta…” he panted, pulling away from you slightly, “stop making that noise. My jeans are already too tight for that.”

“I can't stop.” You groaned again. Your hands fisted his hair. He let out some guttural noise and pulled away again gasping for air. And you whined, “God, I fucking missed you.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” You whispered against his ear before pulling it between your teeth, the way you knew he liked. His whole body shuddered and he slammed your back against the wall for leverage to keep from dropping to his knees. You dropped your legs from his waist to give him a break and he pressed his freed palms against the wall beside your head.

“How are you real?” He questioned as he rested his head against your neck, gasping desperately for air.

“Maybe I’m not.” You panted out your own reply.

“Okay..” he sighed, “I gotta get to that bed.”

Hooking his arms around your thighs he lifted you back up around his waist. You cupped his face in your hands, sucking his swollen lips between yours fervently while he danced the two of you the rest of the way down the hall. The mattress took you by surprise when he dropped you onto it. Hoseok stayed standing. You watched, your tongue passing over your lips, as he stepped back and unbuttoned his shirt before untucking it from his jeans.

You wanted to scream with excitement at the sight. It was really happening, after months and months. First months of thinking he’d just abandoned you. And then the ones you’d spent trying to get him to remember you. It was about to happen, you were here again with him and everything felt somewhat normal. Felt like it had before, when it was you and him, and everything was good.

When you focused back on him you realized he’d gotten down to just his tight black underwear and you gulped at the defined bulge. Feeling impatient you stood up, grabbed his face in your hands, and kissed him hard. He whimpered when you drug your nails down his chest.

“Sit down.” You muttered into his lips, “It’s my turn.”

He sat on the end of the bed and watched you with a giant, beautiful smile on his lips. You pulled your shirt over your head and immediately his eyes were wide. With a little chuckle, feeling quite proud of yourself, you unbuttoned your shorts and dragged them down your legs. When you stood back up Hoseok had his hand on his chest.

“I can’t…” he looked at you with wonder, “I can’t breathe.”

“Please, I’m not that special.” You laughed, thinking he was joking.

He shook his head, “No..I...I don’t know.. I can’t-“

“Hoseok…” you stepped forward and grabbed his shoulders. He looked like he was having a legitimate panic attack. “Oh my god.”

He grasped at you with both hands pulling you forward by your hips. He pressed his cheek against your bare stomach and begged you, “Hold me. Hold-hold me, please.”

Hunching over you wrapped an arm tight around his shoulders, and with the other you massaged his head. “I’ve got you. You’re okay. Just breathe, I’m right here.”

It took a couple of minutes for him to stop shaking, a little longer after that for his breathing to be steady, and then he was back to normal. He threw his head back and looked up at you. He looked so embarrassed, “I swear that’s never happened before.”

“Are you okay? What happened?” You asked placing a gentle palm against his flushed cheek.

“I saw you and...it’s so cheesy...I guess you just took my breath away.” He sighed, “It was something else though. I can’t explain it right, you won’t get it. I know we just met and this is the first time I’ve ever seen you like this but there was this overwhelming… it was like flashes of you, in front of me like you were but not now, not this moment. It wasn’t deja vu. It was like memories.”

You bit your lip unsure of how to handle what was happening. No one had told you what to do if his memory started to return like this. Were you supposed to explain everything to him? Risk him having another panic attack. If he had questions you weren’t sure you’d have the answers. “Should we stop?”

“God no.” He muttered, he was looking up at you with big doe eyes. “I mean, I don’t want to stop, but if I made you uncomfortable…”

You held out your hand to him and when he took it you pulled him to his feet. You planted a kiss against his lips before dropping to your knees. His eyebrows raised in pleasant surprise. As he stood before you, you tugged his black underwear from his hips, dragging them down his legs. He was already fully erect, his tip glistening.

Moving your hands back up his legs you could feel what you thought was scarring. You wondered if he even knew it was there, how often did someone look at the backs of their own legs. Trying your best to be inconspicuous you leaned in close to his hip and left a soft kiss. From that angle, looking down, you could see the scar. It looked pink and fresh, starting at his hip and following the length of his leg all the way to his ankle.

You rested your forehead against the top of his thigh, trying to keep yourself composed. Every reminder that you could have lost him for good had a bad habit of nearly breaking your heart.

His fingers traced you jaw to your chin and he lifted your face to look at his. “Are you okay? Do you want to stop?”

You shook your head and gave him a small smile, “Hoseok...you’re so beautiful.”

He tried to play it off but you could see very clearly on his face how much he appreciated the praise. You leaned back on your heels. And ran your hands down his inner thighs. He shuddered underneath your touch. Wrapping your hand around his length you leaned forward and swirled your tongue slowly around the tip. You grinned, seeing the muscles in his abdomen clench from the small action.

After one more teasing swirl, you took him into your mouth completely. Hands gripping his hips, you looked up at him through batted lashes. His breathing was tense already, and you wondered what he was thinking about as you sucked your cheeks in. You would have never guessed how desperately he was begging himself not to explode in your mouth after only a minute of your lips wrapped around him. He didn’t know why he was so sensitive, he didn’t know it had actually been a year since the last time he’d had sex.

He palmed your cheek as you bobbed back and forth along his length. Your tongue swirling around him simultaneously and you offered the perfect amount of teeth. The slightest dragging sensation that made his eyes roll back. Professional, was all he could think to himself as he gasped helplessly above you. You watched the heave of his chest, paired with the trembling if his thighs under your hands, and you knew he was close. He closed his eyes and you though for a second this was it.

Instead he pulled his hips away from you and panted out, “Stop. Wait. Fuck.”

“Are you okay?” You asked still concerned over his reaction earlier.

“Yeah I just…” he didn't know how to, or really want to, try and explain the comedic way he was imagining his orgasm would look. Feeling like he was going to blast out like a firehose, spraying your face relentlessly. You running away terrified. Him never seeing you again.

“Hoseok?”

“Just...come here.” He said with a smile and helped pull you to your feet. He kissed across your cheek and down your neck before whispering against your earlobe, “I want to taste you.”

That was a good enough reason for you. An anticipatory groan fell from your lips with such gusto that you felt embarrassed, wishing you could somehow take it back. However, Hoseok loved how much you wanted him back. With his hands on your hips he spun you around so your legs were backed against the bed. He kissed down your neck, across your collarbone and over your shoulder. His hands moving around you for just a moment before you were released from your bra.

You wanted to say something about the ease with which he removed your bra but the dark look in his eyes as he leaned back and slipped your straps from your shoulders left you incapable of saying anything at all. Your lip trapped between your teeth as he leaned forward once more to kiss and suck at the sensitive skin. His mouth left a moist trail all the way down your abdomen to the elastic band of your lace panties. His fingers hooked onto them on both sides of your hips and he tugged until you were completely naked in front of him.

“Sit.” He commanded. You did so easily, your legs bordering on the consistency of jello as it were. He knelt down in front of the edge of the bed and m propped your knees open in front of him. You were leaning back on your elbows, watching him as he dragged his fingers along your sex and smirked, “Hey, y/n…”

“What?” You asked breathlessly.

“You’re so beautiful.” Still smirking he leaned forward and buried himself in you.

Your arms fell weak and you crashed back against the bed as he worked you with his mouth. Just the swirl and dip of his tongue, and the way his lips wrapped around your clit, it was all you needed. In just minutes you were so close. And then he slipped his finger inside of you, then suddenly it was two pressing deep and curling as he pulled them out.

“Hoseok,” you gasped, “I-“

You couldn’t speak, you could barely breathe. Not much more than a mess beneath his touch. With a whimper you reached between your legs, running your fingers through his hair. Your toes curled and your back arched against the sheets. Eyes rolling back, you gushed around his fingers and onto his lips. The sound he made as he lapped up your orgasm nearly had you coming a second time.

When he was done he moved on to the bed, between your legs, crawling up your body until your lips were clashing together. You ran your hands up his back, your fingertips tracing the muscles in his shoulders. Pulling away from your lips he shuddered and leaned back in to kiss down your neck, his lips sucking greedily at your clavicle. Goosebumps raised across your skin from the gentle way he dragged his fingers over your body.

“Please,” you begged with a gulp. It was too much. He was too much.

You opened your hips beneath him as further invitation. He pushed himself up further, to get a better look at you. He ran his hand over your cheek and dipped his tongue out over his lips. His dark bangs were hanging away from his face and when he looked at you, you could have sworn he knew you. Not just knew you today, but knew you deeper than that. It was like he knew you were his. It took every ounce of self-restraint you had in your body not to tell him then and there how much you loved him.

He reached down between your legs and keeping your eyes locked with his he fitted himself against you. “You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

Your head fell back as he eased inside of you, the feeling was euphoric on a hundred different levels. His forehead pressed against your neck, and tiny grunts escaped his lips. You dug your nails into skin of his shoulders and dragged them down his back.

“God...damn” he gasped before digging his teeth into your skin.

“Over.” you said against his neck.

He rolled over on the mattress, taking you with him. You pushed yourself up, sitting back against his thighs. His hair was a mess and you were sure yours was even worse off. After some slight adjustment you sunk back down onto him and satisfied with the fill you sighed and looked down at him. As your hips rounded on him you moved your hands over his chest. The dip of his collarbones, the rise of his pecs. His hands gripped your thighs so your eyes followed his arms. Fingers to strong hands, hands to tightly flexed forearms, forearms to bulging biceps, and then just his smiling face looking up at you like you were everything.

“What?” he asked as you let out a small half laugh, half moan.

You shook your head, “Nothing, it’s so stupid.”

He moved his hands up to your hips to make sure you kept your pace as he lifted his own hips up until you were gasping from the fill. “Tell me.”

“It’s just,” you blushed from embarrassment, “you’re so sexy.”

He shook with laughter beneath you and the vibrations left you whimpering. You laughed at the sensation of it and he laughed with you.

You fell forward and giggled through tiny gasps, “Stop...laughing,”

“Why?” he asked, “It feels so good.”

“I know, but I’m gonna cum, and it’s not funny.” you groaned as he chuckled again.

“You’re right,” he said and your stomach tightened at the way he dropped the smile from his face. He moved his hand between your thighs and circled his finger against your clit, “I will take your orgasms very seriously from now on.”

“Oh. Oh my god!” your eyes blew wide as you hit your second orgasm for the night, “Hoseok, fuck!”

He squeezed his eyes shut, his nose scrunched up and he bit his lip as the pulsing from your orgasm brought him to his own. Breathless and exhausted you rested against his chest. You could have fallen asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

~~~

That night you didn’t let yourself fall asleep next to Hoseok, even though a big part of you wanted to. The winning part of your mind couldn’t stop imagining how terrible the next morning would go when he woke up with a stranger in his bed. Especially after the breakdown he’d already had, you just weren’t sure how he’d handle it. So that night you made up some excuse about needing to be up early the next day and went home with just Bunho to keep you company. Then you did it again. Three more times. Three more day long dates with Hoseok that ended in some of the best sex you’d ever had in your life. Each time you ended up being too afraid to stay for fear of what might happen the next morning, despite the fact that every time he’d asked you to stay.

After the fifth daylong date you found yourself dozing off. You’d been laying with your head on his chest, and he was running his fingers over your bare skin. He’d been humming a song for a while, though you couldn’t figure out which one it was. All you knew was that it was soothing. Hitting that moment when you’re just about to truly fall asleep your eyes flew open.

“I really need to get out of here.” you sighed, pushing yourself up and out of his arms.

“What? No, why?” he asked grabbing your hand, “Stay with me, I don’t mind.”

“I can’t.” you looked over at him almost annoyed at how effortlessly handsome he was being. How effortlessly handsome he always was. “You won’t want me here in the morning.”

“Why? What happens in the morning?” he asked brushing your cheek with his thumb.

“Nothing, you’ll just change your mind.”

You sank back down onto the pillow next to his and looked over at him. You didn’t want to leave, and were less worried now that you were feeling wide awake. He placed his hand against your cheek. He locked eyes with you and you couldn’t look away. His face was so serious, the slightest pout on his pink lips. Your heart was beating impossibly fast.

“Stop.” you said gently, trying to match his calm energy.

“Stop what?” he asked raising a single eyebrow, looking almost innocent.

“Looking at me with your face.” he laughed and you felt yourself sink further into the bed at the sound. “Looking at me like you know my soul.”

“You think I don’t?” he asked seriously, quirking his head to the side slightly. “You don’t feel it?”

Tingles shot across every inch of your bare skin. “Feel what?”

“Feel like you’ve known me forever? I feel like I know you already.” he dropped his hand from where it had been cupping your face to your hand and squeezed your fingers, “Stay. Please?”

“Okay,” you agreed, “but only until you fall asleep and then I’m taking off.”

He smiled, pleased with himself, and moved his hand under the sheets. “Are you challenging me to an all nighter?”

“Hoseok!” you shrieked with laughter, feeling his fingers slip between your thighs. You shoved his shoulder but the action barely moved him.

“Come on.” he said leaning close, burying his nose in your neck, “Let me work you so hard you can’t even feel your legs. Then you’ll have to stay with me.”

You let out a half laugh, half groan. Laugh because of the way his breath tickled all the way down your throat, and groan from the feeling of his fingers slipping inside of you, slowly.

With a weak conviction you choked out, “You can try...I guess, but it won’t work.”

Hoseok’s stamina hadn’t been something you’d considered. His plan had worked and you fell asleep while you were still in his arms after the second round of the night.

Shocked was an understatement of how he felt the next morning as he woke up with his arms around you. For a moment he didn’t recognize you, he didn’t remember bringing anyone home or what he’d done the night before that could have lead him forgetting everything that brought him to this moment. A groan fell from your lips as if, even in your sleep, you could tell he wasn’t close enough anymore. You rolled over so that the two of you were face to face and your hand found his waist under the sheets. He was wide eyed and anxious, as he looked down at you, afraid you were going to wake up and he wasn’t going to know you.

Slowly and quietly, in hopes that he wouldn’t wake you, Hoseok brushed the hair away that had fallen in your face. His breath caught in his chest as he started to remember, a smile spread slowly across his face. He leaned in and pressed a kiss against the exposed skin of your neck, then another and another until you were squirming beneath him.

“What are you doing?” you groaned as his lips tickled your neck.

“I’m awake, y/n. I need attention.” he whined.

Not ready to wake up, you kept your eyes closed as you moved your hand up the warmth of his back. The sheets were so soft and his hands were so strong, gripping your hip. Everything felt so normal. Hoseok was awake and he remembered who you were.

Hoseok was awake and remembered who you were. Your eyes flew open and you sat up in bed taking in a quick gasp of air.

“What’s wrong?” Hoseok asked, “Did you forget where you were?”

Biting your lip, you looked over at him stretched out over the white bedding. Not where, you thought to yourself, but when.

“Yeah,” you smiled and laid back down, “or something like that, but just for a second.”

He hummed and slipped his arms around you, pulling you closer. “You were wrong, by the way.”

“About?” You asked, so comfortable you could have fallen back asleep.

“You said I’d change my mind about wanting you here.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t.”

It hadn’t been completely intentional, but the two of you spent the rest of the day together. Most of the day was spent in bed, which you’d had few complaints about. Later in the afternoon, ever the gentleman, Hoseok drew a bath for you to enjoy while he went down the street to pick up some food. You knew he’d probably intended on you staying relaxed in the water for longer than you did but you found yourself a little too restless to stay still for too long. For a while you meandered his apartment, not really looking for anything since you’d mostly seen all of it before. Back in his bedroom you raided his drawers finding the oversized sweater you’d seen him in and a pair of boxers, which surprised you since you’d never seen him wear them before. You dressed yourself in your findings and continued to walk around the apartment as you brushed your hair with his comb.

When he finally returned he found you in the cupboard searching for something unhealthy to snack on and disappointed that there was nothing. He’d brought back...everything. Hoseok realized when he’d gotten downstairs that he had never asked what you might want, so he just went to a bunch of places and hoped that he’d gotten something you’d like. Luckily, all of it was stuff you liked. Together you took refuge on the couch and devoured nearly every bite of food he brought home. As the hours ticked by and the afternoon inched into the evening you started to worry again. Worry that you’d have to leave him soon and that if, or more likely when, you finally did he’d only forget you again. However, as your movie binging, makeout marathoning continued on his couch, he never once asked you to leave. He didn’t even suggest it. Instead, as you tucked into him, what he did was run his hand up and down your back until you’d fallen asleep on his chest.

It surprised you when Hoseok wanted to spend the next day with you as well. This time the two of you actually left the apartment. You’d gone to enjoy a late brunch. Afterwards you strolled around downtown. You stopped at several department stores to warm up but mostly you liked to go into designer boutiques and guess the prices of their ugliest pieces. Once your cheeks were permanently sore from laughing he brought you home, stopping on the way to grab dinner.

Sitting across the table from him made you sad because you realized that you couldn’t continue to spend all your time with him. This had been the longest amount of time you’d ever spent with him, even before the accident you were never really together for more than a couple hours, a day at the longest. You’d imagined you’d have gotten tired of him or he would have gotten bored of you. You thought, especially since you’d relived the beginning of your relationship a hundred times already, that he wouldn’t have anything new to offer but he kept you on your toes.

You stuffed your mouth with rice and curry, to avoid having to answer any questions about the change in your mood. You were just sad imagining being alone and worried that the second you left he would forget you and you’d have to restart this whole process over again.

When you finally told him you had to leave he looked equally sad. You knew it that it would be awhile until you could see him again. The event at your work was happening this week and you were going to be outrageously busy until it was over. You’d told him it would be at least a week until you’d be free to see him again. When you told him that he kissed you for a really long time in front of the cab he’d called for you. You were sure that if the meter wasn’t already running that the driver would have left you on the sidewalk, your mouths glued together.

He sighed when he finally pulled away, “Do you think that’s enough for a week?”

“No.” You laughed, “That’s not enough for even a day.”

“Glad you agree.” He grinned and leaned in to kiss your cheek. “We’ll just have a lot to catch up on when we see each other.”

“Coffee right?” You asked, “The cafe where we met. Sunday morning.”

“Sunday morning.” He confirmed.

“You won’t forget?”

He shook his head, “I won’t forget.”

“Hoseok,” you said in a whisper. He raised his eyebrows expectantly, “don’t forget me, okay? Promise you won’t forget me.”

“How could I ever forget you?” He laughed like it was ludicrous.

“Just, please. I know it sounds silly but will you just promise me?” you basically begged.

“Hey…” he cupped your cheeks in his hands and smiled brightly, “I promise, I will not forget you.”

~~~

Preparing for your work event was excruciating. It would have been regardless but it was more so because you spent every second you weren’t thinking about work thinking about Hoseok and whether or not he’d forgotten you yet. You’d removed your number from his phone before you’d left him, just in case, so if he’d wanted to get a hold of you he couldn’t. With barely a second to even eat or shower between preparations you definitely didn’t have a minute to contact Minhyuk to find out if he knew anything about Hoseok’s current memory status.

Saturday night, after the last guest left the event, the caterers drove off with their equipment, and the tables and chairs had been stacked and made ready to be picked up in the morning your shoulders finally fell with some relief. You’d been slightly worried you still wouldn’t be able to sleep before your meeting with Hoseok in the morning but your head crashed down on your pillow before you’d even taken off your heels.

The cafe was busy for a sunday morning but you’d gotten there early and grabbed a coffee and a table. Hoseok was right on time, he looked amazing and there was nothing more you wanted to do than to kiss him but you waited instead. Waited to see what he would do when he saw you, because he always came to this cafe and him being here didn’t necessarily mean anything. For a blink you thought he was looking at you but you couldn’t be sure, and he walked passed your table to the counter without a word.

You watched out of the corner of your eye as he turned around a few minutes later, coffee in hand. It looked for a moment like he was headed straight for your table but instead he moved just passed it. He sat at a table across from you and opened his book, not unlike he had done a dozen times before. When he caught you looking at him he smiled kindly, which he’d also done plenty. You were becoming more and more certain that he’d forgotten you, like he’d definitely done before.

Feeling a little heartbroken your shoulders slumped. Part of you wondered if it was all the way back to square one, which meant hopelessness. Or, you wondered, maybe if you just spent every single moment together for the rest of your lives he’d be able to remember you. The thought alone was exhausting, but a big part of you thought you could manage it.

“I hate to bother you,” you looked up to see his smiling face, coffee in one hand and a book in the other, “but can I use that chair or are you waiting for someone?”

“Oh, go ahead, I’m not using it.”

You expected him to drag the chair away, like people usually did when they asked to use chairs, instead he sat down on the seat and placed his coffee on the table. He crossed one leg over the other before opening his book.

He grinned over at your confused face, “Sorry, I just felt like it was selfish for us to be using up two tables when we can just share this one. I won’t bother you.”

Unsure what to say you looked down at your book. You read nothing, you couldn’t focus long enough to comprehend the words. Sniffing with eyes brimmed with tears you were trying desperately not to cry out of frustration. You just wanted to stand up, grab his shoulders, and scream Remember Me!

“Rough story?” He asked.

You looked back up at him, “What?”

“I know I said I wouldn’t bother you but,” he nodded towards your book, “you look upset, pretty emotional story?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “it’s devastating. Might be the worst love story of all time.”

“Why read it then?”

“I can’t seem to let it go, no matter how much it hurts.” You wiped your cheek and looked back down at the book.

The table fell into a comfortable silence, and you were able to calm yourself enough that you didn’t feel on the edge of an emotional breakdown. You hadn’t noticed, but Hoseok hadn’t looked back at his book. Not once. He’d been too preoccupied watching you.

After quite some time he finally leaned forward, planting his elbows on the table. “Y/n, can I ask you a question.”

“Of course.” You said looking up at him expectantly.

He looked almost sad, “Who hurt you?”

You leaned back, feeling slightly attacked by the question. “Excuse me?”

“Who hurt you?” He repeated.

Suddenly your brain seemed to start working again and your eyes went wide, “You said my name.”

“I can’t believe you really thought I’d forgotten you!” He exclaimed in disbelief, “What person on this planet made you feel so forgettable because I have a few choice words for them.”

This time you were really going to cry, but you had to keep it together. You wouldn’t just be able to explain to him why it meant so much to you that he remembered who you were. At least, you thought, you couldn’t do it without Minhyuk. He watched fascinated by how every part of you lifted and brightened in just the blink of an eye.

“You really remember me?” You asked.

“Well, I did promise you I would, didn't I?” He smirked over at you.

You bit your lip, “Tell me what you remember about me.”

He laughed and then realized you were being serious. “That’s such a weird request.”

“Please?”

“I remember a lot about you.” he looked you over for a second and dragged his bottom lip between his teeth, causing an instant blush to cross your cheeks, “like how soft your hips felt, especially when you had just gotten out of the bath. I remember how cute you looked in my sweater, and how you look even cuter when you stuff your cheeks with rice. I remember the way your hair smelled when you fell asleep on my chest. The way you taste, I remember the way all of you tastes.”

“Oh.” You let out a soft breath, not having expected that answer. He laughed at how immobile you seemed.

“I also remember that work project you had that kept us apart all week. How’d that go?”

He remembered you. So many thoughts rushed through your head, so many feelings and you felt incapable of expressing any of them properly. Instead you told him all about your hellish week before asking him about his and then making plans to spend the day together.

~~~

Minhyuk had been so thrilled by your news about Hoseok that he’d dropped the three hundred dollar bottle of tequila he’d been holding. He grabbed your face and kissed you right on the mouth he was so happy and all you could do was laugh because you knew the feeling well. The two of you discussed for a long while the best way to tell Hoseok about everything, deciding ultimately to wait until you knew for sure his memory lasting wasn’t a fluke. The decision had been Minhyuk’s. It had surprised you at first, until he explained that he’d already had to remind his best friend of the accident hundreds of times before and it never got any easier. He wanted to make sure this time it lasted.

You’d told Minhyuk to take his time, that the time of the reveal would be up to him. You had felt bad at first. It felt like you were lying to Hoseok whenever you were with him. Keeping a secret that affected him so deeply. Then weeks had passed and you found yourself too distracted by life with Hoseok. It had been three years. Three years of his demanding hands all over your body. His desperate and needy late night requests for your attention. Never spending more than a day together, rarely spending time overnight. Dates hadn’t been called dates, it was just hanging out. You had never been his girlfriend and he wasn’t your boyfriend. This time with him was different, it was better. It was date night’s and entire weekends together. And when Hoseok told you he wanted you meet Minhyuk and you asked him why he said it was because he thought it was important that his best friend and his girlfriend got along.

After a delicious dinner at the restaurant and probably already too many drinks the three of you went back to Hoseok’s for more drinking and hanging out.

He’d been so affectionate all night. Holding your hand, kissing your shoulder, always making sure that you were comfortable and having a good time. Back at his place he’d grabbed your hand and led you over to the couch, he crashed down onto the cushions and pulled you onto his lap, “This has been the best day. Might as well be my birthday.”

“I’m glad you’re so happy, Hoseok.” You said before pressing a kiss against his cheek.

He looked over at Minhyuk who had walked over slowly, thoughtfully, “I’m glad you two get along. I hadn’t really been worried, but it was important to me.”

Min smiled at Hoseok and then looked over at you, “I think we should do it now.”

Hoseok looked between the two of you slightly confused, you leaned in and kissed his cheek once more before standing up from his lap. You weren’t sure where to go, you’d wanted to give him space but you also wanted to be there for him at the same time. Minhyuk sat beside him on the couch. Hoseok reached out, solving your dilemma for you by grabbing your hand, you weren’t going anywhere. You sat down on the edge of the coffee table in front of him.

“What’s going on? Why does it feel so serious?” he looked over at you, he seemed almost scared so you squeezed his hand.

“Hoseok,” Minhyuk took a deep breath and exhaled, “You were in a bad accident.”

It was crushing to watch the myriad of feelings that crossed his face as Minhyuk went over all of the details of his accident, and then his recovery. He was so hurt, scared, and confused by all of it and what it meant. Tears fell down his cheeks as Minhyuk showed him pictures of his demolished car. Pictures of him bandaged and broken in the hospital bed during his coma. The stitches that had been taken out long ago and scars that were now hidden underneath the hair that had grown back. The x-rays of the plate in his leg. He squeezed your hand tightly through every step of the timeline. Finally nearing the end there were pictures of him after he’d woken up, when he was going through physical therapy. Your heart went out to Minhyuk who had retold Hoseok about his accident every single morning when he’d had panic attacks from waking up in the hospital.

“...up until a few weeks ago you’d had short term memory loss.” Minhyuk had finished telling him almost everything he needed to know. “Since it finally seems like your memory might be sticking we thought it was time to tell you what happened again.”

For the first time in almost an hour he dropped your hand. He ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh before looking over at you, “We didn’t just meet, did we?”

“We did, it just wasn’t for the first time.” you said in barely a whisper as Minhyuk handed him his old phone.

His forehead scrunched in confusion as he quietly scrolled through the photos on the phone, “Were we dating...before the accident?”

“Sort of. I’m starting to think we made it more complicated than it needed to be.”

“This was over years. We’ve been together for years.” he looked up at you expectantly. “Are we in love?”

“I think so.” you wiped a stray tear from your cheek, “We’ve never said it to each other but I think we are.”

The table vibrated as your leg bounced anxiously. You watched Hoseok scroll through the conversations on his phone. He spent a long time on the one he’d shared with you. It looked like he’d tried scrolling all the way back to the beginning of the conversation before reading it all out. He stared at the phone so long without moving the screen went black and he just kept staring. Finally he dropped the phone on the couch between him and Minhyuk. When he looked up at you his lips were trembling. You knew he was about to cry and you didn’t know what to say.

“Hoseok-” you started.

“You were so mad at me.” he said cutting you off.

“I didn’t know. I never would have said any of that if I’d known. I swear.”

He slipped down off of the couch in front of you and dropped his head in your lap. His arms wrapped around your waist and you could feel him crying. You looked at Minhyuk wide-eyed, unsure of what was happening, hoping he’d have something to offer but he only shrugged. You rubbed your hand over his back gently.

“I’m so sorry.” he mumbled into your lap.

Still confused and concerned you continued to rub his back, “Wait, why are you apologizing?”

“I hurt you so much. I’m so sorry.” he said as he cried even harder.

“Oh, Hoseok. No, it wasn’t your fault.”

He tightened his arms around you, pulling you closer. His face pressed against your stomach. “I almost lost you forever.”

You hunched over him awkwardly wrapping him up in a hug, “No, baby. You would have found me. You always find me.”

Minhyuk leaned back against the couch with a small smile on his face, “Physically, he is stronger than steel. Emotionally, a baby bunny.”

“Don’t listen to him.” You whispered against the top of Hoseok's head. He just squeezed you tighter.

~~~

“I can’t believe you cheated on me.” Hoseok said dropping his keys on the counter.

It had been a few weeks since you’d told him about the accident, and he’d been getting memories back ever since. Minhyuk and you told him all of the really big events that he’d forgotten and that seemed to open the gates as the rest of his memories came flooding back. More and more every day. Some of them were beneficial. Some of them, you were finding were just embarrassing for you, which Hoseok loved.

“What are you talking about?” you nearly shrieked, hanging up both of your coats on the rack.

He turned around and looked at you with raised eyebrows, “Don’t try and tell me you weren’t with other guys the entire year we were apart. You even told me you were going to sleep with that guy you were on a date with.”

“You remember that?” you asked surprised, “I barely even remembered Loey.”

“Too many notches on your bedpost?” he asked with a raised eyebrow and the tiniest smirk.

“Hoseok…”

“I however was not with anyone else,” he yelled dramatically throwing his arms in the air, “because I was in a coma!”

“It’s not funny.” you frowned, “If I could go back…”

“Yeooooosin.” he sang, pulling you into a hug. He kissed your neck in quick little pecks until you were laughing in his arms, “I’m just kidding.”

You ran your hands up his back and over his broad shoulders, squeezing him tight, “I don’t like that joke.”

He leaned back and kissed your forehead. “Okay, I’ll think of a new one.”

You hummed, with a purse of your lips at him and went into the living room where you plopped onto the couch and waited for your very attention needy boyfriend. When he finally arrived he was carrying wine glasses and a smile on his face.

“I also can’t believe you stuck it out with me. That must have been so hard. Why did you do it? For months and months.”

You looked over at him, accepting the wine glass, and laughed to yourself. “Isn’t it obvious? You have a really hot body and a lot of money.”

He clicked his tongue in annoyance, “Just confess that you love me.”

“Never.”

“Well I can’t until you do. So I guess we’re just at a standstill.” He pouted.

You took a quick gulp of wine before placing it on the coffee table. He came around, set his glass next to yours and stretched out on the couch, laying his head in your lap.

“I keep waiting for you to kick me out.” you said quietly, running your hand through his hair.

“Why would I ever kick you out? Why would I ever want this to end?”

“You have your memories back now. I figured it’s only a matter of time until you remember that we were never really like this before, and how you don’t really want to be couple-y with me.”

Hoseok popped up from your lap, and stared at you from the other side of the couch, “Yeah… I have my memory back, which means I remember you never wanted to be in a relationship with me.”

You scoffed at the accusation.” Hoseok, you said you didn’t want to really date because you were so busy with work all the time and you felt it would be unfair.”

“I only ever said that because you always told me not to get confused about what we were doing with each other.”

“Hoseok!” you practically screamed, eyes wide in shock, “I said that because I wanted you to think I was still just a chill, down girl, like I was when we met. Then, I don’t know, you made me want more. I didn’t want to scare you off with all my feelings or by being too clingy!”

“Y/n! Are you kidding me?” he screamed back in frustration.

You watched as he jumped from the couch and stormed out of the living room. As you waited you stood up, this felt like a fight and you felt too vulnerable sitting down.

He stomped back into the room with a low growl, and a small black box in his hand. “I have been in love with you forever, you idiot. I just kept waiting for you to finally get to where I was so I could tell you. Waiting for you to love me back so I could give you this!”

Your eyes went wide and your body tensed as he went to open the box but you relaxed at the sight of the brand new silver key. “Is that a house key?!”

“Yes! I love you and I want you to live with me!” you’d yelled at him so he felt it was only appropriate to yell back.

“What the hell? I’ve loved you for so long! You thought I would just hang out here for months when you didn’t even know who I was because I just wanted to be fuck buddies again?!”

“No!” he shouted, albeit confused, “Why are we yelling!”

You threw your hands up, “I don’t know!”

“You started it!”

“Yeah, because I love you!”

“Well I love you too!” he yelled one last time and then smiled, “...so come here and kiss me already.”

He closed the box with the key and tossed it onto the table as you moved towards him, throwing your arms around his shoulders and meeting his lips with yours.

You smiled against the kiss and mumbled, “You’re so stupid.”

“And yet you’re the one who loves me.” he mumbled back. He sat back down on the couch, taking you with him. Your knees landed on either side of him as you sat on his lap, and leaned into the kiss. He let the kiss go on for some time before pulling away, “I love you, seriously. Be my girlfriend?”

“I was already your girlfriend.” you laughed, moving back into the kiss.

He pulled away again and you groaned, “And move in with me?”

“Obviously! Yes.” you landed the smallest kiss on his lips before he pulled away again, “Jesus! What?”

“Marry me?” he grinned.

Your eyes blew wide and you slapped his shoulder, “Hoseok!”

“Yeah, you’re right, too soon. We should date for awhile. Maybe move your stuff in first, and then I’ll try again.” he reasoned.

He caught your eyes with his and you knew he was playing his game, his battle of the wills. His face mostly neutral except for the pout that accentuated his lips and the clear amusement that glistened in his eyes as he waited for you to crumble.

Dragging your teeth across your bottom lip you grinned, “Ask me again then. When I’m all moved in, and we’re laying in our bed. I’ll have my head on your chest and you’ll be doing that thing where you drag your fingertips over my back. Ask me like that.”

His eyes scanned yours for a long while after you’d stopped talking as he tried to figure out if you were serious. Then, as if he’d been replaying the words over in his head until he finally believed them, he turned his face away. Breaking contact because the joy he’d felt looking at you had become too overwhelming.

With a small laugh you leaned forward and kissed his exposed neck before resting your head on his shoulder. “I win.”

He hummed in agreement, “Yeah, but I win too.”

#Wonho scenario #Wonho smut #Monsta x scenario #Monsta x smut #Kpop scenario #Kpop smut #Happy Birthday Sara!#Did you even like this?#Thats all I care about is that you like it #sooo.. god I hope you like it.#It's so much

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fleetwoodmoth · 4 years

Text

Family

Chapter 7

With all those death omens in the new Night City Wire I’m fighting back my sadness by writing more of this au, enjoy!

Vesper let the smoke curl for her lips in a thick spiraling cloud which drifted up and dispersed like bubbles rising to the surface of water across the ceiling. Jackie’s cheek was pressed against her stomach, his body resting between her legs, hands pressed against her hips. She reached down and ran her nails against his scalp, eliciting a rumbling sigh from his chest. After a moment Jackie turned his head and pressed a kiss against her stomach, the action soft and lingering, like he was worshiping her. While tender, something nagged at Vesper. Last night he had called her out of the blue while she was with a client, not something he had ever done before making the reason he called even more suspicious. He had sounded strained, almost nervous, his voice trying to stay soft despite the way it dropped unintentionally, like he had something stuck in his throat. She had expected some kind of explanation when she met him at his place that night, but it had already been nearly 24 hours since and he still hadn’t addressed the elephant in the room.

“Baby,” Vesper said quietly.

“Hmm?”

“What’s on your mind?” She asked.

There was a long pause, too long to be nothing, before Jackie finally spoke “Am I that obvious?”

Vesper let out a small sigh of relief that he didn’t try to deny it.

“There are times where you’re being yourself, and times where you seem lost in your own head, I’m worried about you,” she said softly.

“I don’t mean to worry you jaina, I just have a lot on my mind right now.”

Vesper hummed an acknowledgement, offering him the blunt which he accepted, taking a drag before exhaling “It involves you.”

She perked up at that, her heartbeat leaping slightly, anxiety running through her veins as she tried to go through every little thing she may have done to upset him. He must have felt her freeze up, because he quickly added “your safety. I should have told you sooner.”

Somehow that was better than what she had made up on the spot. Maybe her last relationship was a little more than just heartbreaking.

“This guy I borrowed money from a while back, well I repaid him a few weeks ago, now he’s come back now saying I owe more.”

Vesper relaxed back into the pillows before nodding, a new fear creeping into her stomach.

“When I called you, it was cause he told me to, implied something was wrong. I think your client was his friend, like insurance so that I wouldn’t beat him to death just for threatening you.”

Vesper swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry and sticky, she tried to blame the smoke as she reached for the bottle by her bed.

“He was a bit of a dick,” she said, voice scratchy as she took a sip of water.

He only went by Dee, and he had under tipped the bar staff, got aggressively territorial the more he drank, and finished after about three minutes before throwing her out. She had had worse, but he was by no means on her list of favorites.

“He didn’t hurt you did he?” Jackie asked, kissing her stomach again before pushing himself up on his elbows so he could look up at her properly.

“No, he was a jackass, but if what you say is true, he probably was under orders not to,” she said cupping his face with her hands.

Jackie took a hit off of the blunt before kissing his way up to her face.

“Good,” Jackie kissed at her neck and jaw, and she gave him time to process what he wanted to tell her.

“I need you to lay low, just for a little while, until Friday.”

She made him pull back to look at her again.

“I don’t want to be a passive player in this, if this man is threatening us then I want to help,” she said.

Jackie blinked a few times, looking slightly dazed at her reply.

“But it’s my fuck up, you shouldn’t have to get involved.”

“But I am, and even if I wasn’t, I’d still want to help you, because I—“ she stopped herself, her throat tightening in sudden panic “—because I don’t want you having to deal with this alone.”

They sat in their shared quiet, Jackie dropping his gaze, contemplating her answer. She didn’t like the idea of being used as some kind of bargaining chip, especially to hurt someone she cared about, and she hoped Jackie would understand.

“Also I… think I have some people who can help,” she said, Jackie sitting up with interest.

“Oh?”

“I told you, the Moxes take care of each other, I’m a Mox, you’re with me so you’re part of the family,” she said.

“You think they’d want to help me though?”

“Well, since your friend threatened me, then it involves them, which means yes, they will.”

She pursed her lips and Jackie pulled himself up, kissing her deeper than she had anticipated, causing her to let out a small surprised giggle.

“I’m not about to reject something like that, but just know that if this gets too hot I want you to be safe,” he said after a minute, pulling away just slightly, eyes tracing her face, voice soft.

“I promise to stay safe, if you promise to do the same.”

He kissed her again, and Vesper draped her arms around his neck, she could feel the tension leave him, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. She couldn’t help but smile, he trusted her, and she felt for the first time that maybe she could be happy with someone.

“He’s with me,” Vesper said as she and Jackie blew into Roxie’s bar together.

Vesper had spent most of her nights here early on as a joygirl, it was like a communal safe house for the Mox and their associates, and while most of Vesper’s clients sought her out outside of the Mox, she still felt like she was coming home when she saw the pink neon signs.

“Volt honey who is this lovely piece of arm candy?”

Vesper turned from where she and Jackie had settled at the bar to the over modded Mox behind her.

“Hey Rath,” she said with a smile.

Rath stood at about 5’6” and was nearly completely covered in modded material. His skin was a canvas of blue ‘tattoos’ that had been etched into the porcelain like material that he had instead of skin, and his hair was a bright blue, cropped short against his scalp. She had met Rath when he was still mostly organic, they used to smoke and talk shit out front before both of their demand had risen to a point where they could only message each other throughout the day.

“This is Jackie,” Vesper said, turning to introduce him officially.

“Oh this is the Jackie Welles? Color me honored,” he said holding out a hand which Jackie took to shake.

“We’ve heard so much about you,” Rath said, resting his free hand on top of Jackie’s.

Vesper blushed, turning back to her drink, not making eye contact with either of the men beside her. She didn’t think she had talked that much about Jackie, it had only been around a month since they had started seeing each other, even less since they had started letting themselves become romantically involved.

“C’mon Rath, don’t crowd the man,” she said.

“Ey it’s fine, it’s nice to meet Vesper’s friends,” Jackie said, his voice relaxed.

Vesper blushed further, not because she was embarrassed of him, but because he seemed legitimately interested in her life. Every day was like a new surprise with him but it was more like a blooming flower instead of a stinking onion, it was a gift and for the first time she stopped to wonder what she had done to be so lucky. But that moment passed as she remembered why they were there in the first place, a big sharp thorn in the rose bush.

“V darling you have to tell me where you found such a catch,” Rath said over his shoulder to her, having situated himself between her and Jackie’s bar stools.

“Maybe some other time, I’m—we’re here on Mox business.”

Rath seemed to perk up even further, the prospect of violence always got him excited, more so even than a hot piece of ass.

“Oh?”

“We need some firepower and possibly back up, Jackie has a Valentino breathing down his neck.”

Rath looked between the two of them before cracking a wide smile.

“How exciting!”

“Keep it in your pants Rath, we’re trying not to spill too much blood.”

“Less exciting, but we can do that, let’s go somewhere a little more private, shall we?”

Rath pushed himself away from the bar, taking both Jackie and Vesper’s hands and tugging them along, indicating that they follow. Across the neon blue dance floor and past the braindancers slumped on nearby booths was a door to the back rooms, and an old world velvet and glass lounge where several Mox members waved and greeted Vesper who took her time to acknowledge them all. She wondered if the Valentinos were like this, she only had a few customers from them, Jackie being the most recent and the way he spoke about family made her assume is was at least somewhat similar.

“Now what are you looking for? Firepower to scare this Valentino off? A good old fashioned mugging? Dirt on him and his?” Rath rattled off the options like it was the bar menu.

Vesper settled across from Rath who had perched himself on one of the free couches, looking to Jackie who took a seat beside her.

“I need him to know he can’t fuck with my family,” Jackie said after a minute, the comment catching Vesper off guard. She had been so insistent on Jackie being part of the Mox family because he was with her, but she never thought about how she was a part of his world now too. She slyly slipped her hand into his palm, returning her gaze to Rath as she felt him squeeze.

“Oh alright, intimidation, you got guns?”

Jackie let out a laugh that made Vesper’s heart flutter. She composed herself before giving Rath a nod.

“I got fire power, that’s not the problem, he made it clear he can get at my girl, and I want him to know that’s a bad idea, you get me?”

Maybe it was the Valentino in him or maybe it was just Jackie being Jackie, but he was clearly on the same wavelength as Rath.

“He threatened Vesper? Our Vesper? Ha!” Rath let out a sharp laugh “does he know he stuck his dick in the hornets’ nest by doing so?” Rath clicked his lighter as he brought a cigarette to his lips to light it.

“No, he thinks he can get to me anywhere,” Vesper added.

“Then we just show him the same deal, you got a name for this guy?”

“He goes by Bolts, but his name is Rodrigo Aguirre,” Jackie said.

“Alright, we can do some digging, should have his home address and the home addresses of his closest friends by the end of the day.”

Jackie leaned back, eyebrow raised “that quick?”

“Yeah, you got a whole birth name, that’s as good as gold to a good fixer.”

“Shit, I forgot what it was like to have people at my back,” Jackie said.

“Don’t sweat it, you make Volt happy, you’re a good guy as far as she’s told us-“ Rath winked at Vesper who blushed “-that means you’re good with the Mox, we’ll get you guys the info.”

“Thank you Rath,” Vesper said, leaning forward to take his hand in her own.

“You’re welcome babe, you two go home and lay low for a bit, I’m sure you’ll figure out something to keep yourself occupied while we get the shit,” Rath said.

Vesper pulled back, shaking her head with a smile. There was something about being with her people, the Mox, Rath, alongside the man who made her infinitely happy so far. It felt good, warm, it felt like home.

#Cyberpunk 2077 #Jackie Welles #Cyberpunk V #Vesper Banjeeri #my writing

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teaforten · 4 years

Text

Rabbit and the Monkey Cups - (Part 1/2)

Did you need AIW fanfic? Here is AIW fanfic.

I haven’t written in a long time for this show, but it was Rachel’s birthday and I decided to turn a little thing into a big thing. But didn’t finish it, so this is part one of two.

Here’s a preview, and the rest is under cut. Tumblr wanted to put a bunch of spaces in between every paragraph and frankly I don’t have the energy to take them all out, so sorry about that.

Preview:

Wondermart was having a huge clearance sale on Halloween stuff, so Hatter and Hare were promptly there on a crisp November afternoon, to hit two birds with one stone. You see, Rabbit’s birthday was at the end of the week. How did they know? Alice had just told them. She was tagging along right behind them, actually, mentioning it in a timid fashion, because she herself was unsure what to get the bunny, or any bunny really, let alone one of his age.

“Ahhh, there’s got to be something here,” Hatter said to the other two confidently.

“You think he might want a new cape?” Hare wondered, patting at some leftover Dracula capes at the end of a costume rack.

“It’s possible. How about a skull? You think he needs one of these?” By now, Alice was squinting as Hatter plucked up a funky glow-in-the-dark skull from a shelf of cheap yard decorations.

“No, let’s get him this candy bowl,” Hare suggested, though just as he indicated it, the plastic skeleton’s hands guarding its mouth closed around his hand and gave him a serious jolt.

“You guys...” Alice started.

“I want that for myself,” Hatter told Hare.

“Hell if you’re keeping that in your kitchen!”

“It’ll be great for my cookies!” Hatter insisted, with a scowl. “Lord knows you’re not keeping me away from them!”

“You GUYS.”

“Huh?” They both turned to her obliviously, holding each side of the bowl as the skeleton hands slapped open and closed.

“I don’t think Rabbit wants leftover Halloween stuff for his birthday,” she tried to tell them, in what was the most neutral voice she could manage.

“Are you sure?” Hatter wondered. She just rolled her eyes.

“Why don’t we try, uh, some plants at the nursery, or, or a sleep mask? Some fuzzy slippers?”

Her two companions looked to each other and shrugged like she might have a point.

So off to the Wonderland nursery they went, where Alice was plucking up pots of pansies and tulips and flashing them at Hatter and Hare, who seemed not at all impressed. “I mean they’re fine if you just want something to take up space in your window sill,” Hare told her with his eyes half closed. Alice was silent, as she really didn’t see a problem with this. “Alice. Alice Alice Alice~~” Hare drawled, looking around the nursery like he was embarrassed to have to explain this to her. “When my Grandpa December was around the Rabbit’s age, he was going through his very last existential crisis, and the last thing he needed was to fill up his window sills.”

Hatter nodded emphatically. “Mhm. Mhm. That’s a mid-life crisis kind of present.”

“What we need to get the Rabbit is something that reminds him that he’s in control of his life again.”

“Right! Something that says twilight can be just as exciting as any sunrise,” Hatter chipped in, swooping his hand into the air.

“I don’t know where you’re going with this,” Alice told them.

“Well obviously--” Hatter started... then he turned to Hare, looking for some help. “Where are we going with this?”

Hare was all shifty-eyed by now. “Come. Come, my children,” he said.

In no time, they were being led to the “restricted” section of the nursery… a shady little greenhouse shack thingy-mabob… covered with vines and thorns. And the woman helping customers there looked awfully witchy. Her wiry salt and pepper hair was stacked onto her head in a bun, almost all of her fingers had a ring, and she was walking around with a hunch. It gave Alice the creeps. Hatter, too. He was trying to hide behind her, actually, and it wasn’t working out very well.

“Do you have a membership card?” She asked Hare, also looking very shifty-eyed. Hare took out his wallet and flashed the goods. Then she jerked up her chin like a bouncer who had recognized one of their own, as if to say “a’iiiight, ya’ll’s cool to go in”...

In a very interesting turn of events, it was Hatter clutching Hare’s arm and nibbling his knuckles, and Alice trailing behind them, using his coat-tails as some kind of safety leash.

“Poisonous… carnivorous…” Alice read the signs hesitantly as they passed them.

“Cadaverous… smelly?!” Hatter screeched.

“Oh, the smelliest!” Hare flapped his hands and kept walking.

“I don’t think the Rabbit is going to want a smelly plant, Mr. Hare. After all, he’ll have to keep it at the palace, and if the Queen doesn’t like it…” Alice started.

“Well then I know! We’ll get him a guard plant!” Hare concluded. Hatter seemed both extremely terrified and extremely excited about seeing which selections of guard plant this place had.

“There are plants that can guard palaces?” Alice wondered incredulously.

“Shhh, everyone be quiet,” Hare told them. They weren’t far from an enclosure where a deep crimson light was shining on a beastly looking growth in the corner of the greenhouse. At its base was an array of spikey pads clustering around even spikier shoots and bulbs -- all more or less foaming at the mouths, or whatever it had.

“What? It can’t hear us--” Alice tried to say before Hatter’s hand fell over her mouth.

“You don’t know that,” he stage-whispered without looking at her. She almost had the nerve to bite him. Evidently, Hare had immediately forgotten to show any caution once he realized what was in the enclosure because he was bursting at the seams and hopping in place like a cheerleader without pom-poms.

“Oh, WOW. They said they were going to order it in, but I HONESTLY DIDN’T BELIEVE THEM. Look you guys, it’s a GIANT CATAPULTING FLYPAPER TRAP! And no wonder they’ve got these bars: someone could fall right into that thing and they’d be a GONER,” Hare told them, tenting his fingers and grinning from ear to ear, with every possible dimple in his face showing.

“Geez, Mr. Hare. I never realized you were so, well, morbid.” Hare looked mildly surprised for a second, then just shrugged.

“Anyway, Rabbit could never handle something like this. And look at the price. Oof!” They watched Hare take out a neon green notepad from his pocket and scribble down a note. “Reminder to myself to break open the ole piggy bank when I get home. I just might have enough!”

It was Hatter’s turn to lay down the line:

“Hell if you’re keeping that in your garden!”

“Oh, I wouldn’t put it in my garden. I’d put it in my dungeon,” Hare told him matter-of-factly.

“Ohhhhh. Well in that case… just remember to show it who’s boss.” A whole lotta eyebrow wiggling and elbow jabbing took place before Alice could no longer sit with this image. She pointed at the first thing she saw.

“Uhh, what about this? This looks exciting enough. What is it?” She asked Hare, who was even blushing by now. He cleared his throat.

“Oh, those are… I think I remember… oh yes! Monkey cups!”

“Monkey cups? That doesn’t sound too scary.”

Hatter and Hare shrugged. Their minds had clearly moved on to other things. “Nahhhh, guess not! It’d probably be perfect for Rabbit - he can feed it bugs and stuff when he’s having a bad day. Hahahahhaha!” Alice frowned just as soon as he winked at her. “What? We all know he has a sadistic side.”

@ @ @

As cool as the plant was, Alice wasn’t particularly sold on the idea that Rabbit would be satisfied with just that kind of gift on his birthday, so she begged and pleaded for them to come with her to hit the nearest convenience store. They were being absolute drama kings about it as if they were in some kind of black and white purgatory hell as she perused the greeting card section for just the right one.

“Come on, Alice. How is this watercolor pastel painting of flowers any different from the other ten that you looked at?” Hatter wondered with his eyes rolled back into his head and his giant purple body slumped up against one of the flimsy card racks. A clerk nearby could now see how precarious this situation looked and was watching them carefully.

“And they all say happy birthday!” Hare chimed in as he wandered up to Alice’s side. As he did so, she noticed that he was holding the pot of monkey cups off to one side of his chest, almost as if he had been breastfeeding them or something. He also randomly had a hiccup blanket over his shoulder. She scrunched up her face for a second before she had a response prepared.

“Yes, but they just don’t have that… oomf!” Alice told them, making sort of a “glitter exploding” gesture with her hand.

The both of them repeated the word several times to each other, also imitating the gesture.

“You know. A certain... je ne sais quoi?” She emphasized, even getting on her tippy toes. Hatter tilted his head and mimed the phrase in confusion while Hare tried to pronounce it. He even handed Hatter the plant so he could sort of pop his booty out and tip his toe, while still butchering the phrase spectacularly. Alice smiled and rolled her eyes. “It’s French. I learned it from my penpal, Yvette. It means. Well, it means that you don’t know what it means. But it’s something special.”

Hatter frowned.

“Alice, do you even know why we’re here?” He asked.

“Because we’ve been trying to figure it out for the past eternity.”

“We’ve been here for five or ten minutes tops. And yes, I know why I’m-- DUM!” She hopped when she saw a familiar face pass the glass from the outside. The Tweedles were on their way to the front doors. Hatter and Hare cranked their necks as the bell on the door jingled, while Alice went to greet the twins without a moment’s hesitation, as if they were rescuing her. It would seem they might have also been whispering their hellos and other exchanges, which was just plain rude, in Hatter’s opinion, based on the way he squished up his lips. He looked Hare in the eye and nothing further needed to be said.

Just as the Tweedles were heading back with Alice to the card section, they passed Hatter and Hare, who were on their way to the door. “Oh hey, you two!” Dee greeted, followed by some timid waving by Dum. “Hey guys, uh, we’re just gonna be going,” Hare told them, jutting his thumb out with a crooked smile. “It’s these poor little guys’ nap time.”

“Uhh yeah, and we’d hate to be a 4th and 5th wheel,” Hatter muttered, sort of coddling the monkey cups and shielding them from the Tweedles’ view. Hare was equally concerned about this and hovered around him, trying to put the hiccup blanket, which had a soft little cartoon cactus print, around Hatter’s arm and over the plant, going “sh sh sh…”

Dee cocked his brow and didn’t say a thing until they were gone.

Then, once they were:

“Why are they going around babying a patch of bright green dangling plant dicks?” Just as soon as he said it, Dum was seized by cackles… and more or less so was Alice. But hearing“Mr. Dee” talk like that was highly unusual.

She wanted to speak but couldn’t stop laughing and started sinking into herself. Dum had to pull her up before she hit the floor. “What?! What is it, Alice?! XD” He kept asking her.

“They’re not plant weeners!” She peeped into his ear, still trying to properly breathe again. “They’re m-monkey cups! They’re for the Rabbit! For his birthday!”

This started a whole new round of reeling between the Tweedles, which garnered the attention of the store clerk, who still wasn’t happy about Hatter leaning on all the card racks.

“Excuse me… do you three plan on buying anything?” He asked. He was old, uptight, and easy to dismiss.

“Oh yeah, sure,” Dee told him, swishing his hands before he let them fall on Dum and Alice’s shoulders. On their way to the cards, Alice tried to explain the meandering logic that had led her and her eccentric companions to and from the nursery today, with such an odd purchase.

“Well just make sure the Hare keeps the receipt, is all I’ve got to say!” Dum told her, earning a high-five from Dee.

“You guys wanna help me find something else?” She wondered, quite relieved just to be hearing sensible sentiments again. Dee thought about if he had any plans for the day.

“I’m game.”

“Yeah, so am I,” Dum said.

“A’ight. Let’s find something with some real je ne sais quoi around here and then hit that sleep store across from Just Add Sugar!” Dee turned up his nose with a smug smile like he knew exactly what he was doing. And he probably did.

@ @ @

It was five-thirty in the afternoon and Hatter and Hare were tipped back in their chairs with their bellies full of crumpets, cookies, and jam. And tea, of course. Lots and lots of tea. Beside the Hare was one of those bouncy baby seats that he periodically tipped with his foot. And inside of the baby seat was the pot of monkey cups, wrapped up in the cactus blanket. Several crumpet crumbs were surrounding it. “Do you think it liked the crumpets?” Hatter was busy scraping food out of his teeth and was probably in a food coma when he answered:

“I mean, it ate them, didn’t it?”

“I think so.”

Just then, they saw the Tweedles and Alice frolicking by, flailing shopping bags and sipping slurpees. It was an immediate outrage. Then they slam-dumped the empty cups into Hatter’s trash-can outside the gate. “Oh hi, Hatter and Hare!” Dum shrieked cheerily in a blur.

“Bye, Hatter and Hare!” Dee shouted, just as they were opening their mouths. Alice apparently didn’t even notice where they were or whose house they were passing. It just looked like she had been having the time of her life, or something.

“You know, sometimes, Hare… I don’t know about that girl.”

@ @ @

The day of Rabbit’s birthday, Hare was simply a sobbing mess, and Hatter was having to do a lot of bedraggled consoling that frankly he was not prepared for, in order to make this visit to the palace even possible.

“Come on, Hare,” he told him, trying to pry the plant from his needy little fingers. It was not unlike trying to pry a fly from a venus fly trap. Except this fly trap was worried about the fly and was sure that keeping it in its mouth forever was the only way to keep it safe. Just as it popped free from Hare’s desperate clasp, his arms collapsed in his chest and his knees hit the ground as he wailed:

“We shouldn’t have bought them so early in the week! Now they think I’m their ma, and they’ll miss me terribly!”

Hatter frowned, then realized that he was sort of petting one of them. “Hey, what about me?”

Hare shrugged as a tear pooled in his eye. “They’ll sort of miss you too.” Hatter turned to the fourth wall and just stared. “But every plant needs their ma!”

“Then the Rabbit can be their godmother! Their fairy-godmother! Ahhh? He’ll let you visit, I’m sure.” Hatter’s proposal wasn’t all that bad. Still, Hare was caught up in a moment and could only sniffle, so his partner gave him a heavy pat on the shoulder and walked past him. “Now, I’m gonna take these guys out for one last walk, and then we’ll head to the palace. Take a hit off the hookah, if you need.”

@ @ @

The palace courtyard was unusually quiet that day. Hatter and Hare were thinking there’d either be some sort of bash already started, or they’d have to get into an argument with the Queen about letting Rabbit have free time on his birthday. Instead, they found him kicked up on the chaise lounge, being fanned with a giant banana leaf by Alice. Totally oblivious to their presence, as he was wearing a thick cushy sleep mask and slurping up a tropical smoothie with an umbrella, Rabbit had more or less slipped into nirvana, or as close to it as an old servant would ever get. On the nearest table was a catalogue for the sleep store Alice had visited with the Tweedles, there were brand new, fuzzy wuzzy bunny slippers on the floor next to him, and even a gift basket filled with soaps, bath salts, and the most basic bitch teas Hatter had ever seen. Not that he would say anything.

But he had to say something, because poor ole Hare was still waiting for his hit off the hookah to kick in and had red eyes that could be seen from a mile away. He even forgot to stand and face their friends. Hatter grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him in the right direction.

“Rabbbitttttt!” He shouted at the bunny.

“Mmmmmmm...yyyyyesss???” Hold up a moment. The peaceful smile on the Rabbit’s face slowly fell as he realized he had heard the voice of someone he was sure in the past had never helped him achieve any sort of serenity. He snatched off the sleep mask. “Oh, hello... Hatter. Hare.” He was sort of leaning back and away from them now. Luckily, he couldn’t see that Alice was behind him, trying to hold it together.

“A little birdie told us it was your birthday today!”

“A little birdie?” Rabbit scrunched up his face, confused.

“He means me,” Alice said sweetly over his shoulder.

“Oh, but you’aaa~ not a bird!”

“Yeah, but she overhears all kinds of things, like a bird on a tree-branch!” Hatter explained, to which Alice nodded, “and that was the only way we were going to know it was your birthday, you secretive, sly, s-selectively friendly…s-senior citizen--”

“You had better get on with whatever you came here for, Hatta~...” Rabbit muttered, just as Hatter felt a tickle in his throat.

“Ahem! Yes.” He turned to Hare, who had been trying to blot a tear with the cactus blanket without anyone noticing. “Uh, Hare, why don’t you take the blanket off and show Rabbit this wondeeerfulll, spectaccuullar giftttt, ahhhh?” Hatter tried his best to sprinkle all the razzle-dazzle of two people onto the reveal, but no matter of twisting and twirling elicited much of a reaction out of Rabbit once he saw under the blanket. And he only had one thing to say.

“My, those are awfully phallic, aren’t they…”

Alice just bit her lip.

“What’s ‘phallic’?” Hatter questioned, not yet sure if he should feel validated or offended. Alice shrugged, as she didn’t know either. Rabbit immediately regretted that it had ever fallen from his mouth.

“Uhhh… Well what are they, anyway?” He diverted.

The Tweedles, meanwhile, had been oo’ing and ah’ing at all the boring af statues the Queen put up in one of her hallways, like really putting on an oscar worthy performance out of the sincerest desire for Rabbit to have some alone time with his gifts in that chair. When they were back to the courtyard with her majesty, however, they were having a really hard time keeping a straight face while a clueless Hatter and an unreasonably forlorn Hare waved around the bright green plant dicks monkey cups and pitched them like they were going to be Rabbit’s newest obsession.

All they had to do was step into Alice’s vicinity and make eye-contact with her and she was already giggling.

“So you see, Rabbit, this isn’t just some midlife-crisis window-sill filler… set these up at your table on bingo nights and you’ll have all the bunny ladies crowding around, knowing you’re up to something.”

“And what exactly am I up to?” Rabbit cocked his eyebrow, quite distracted by their striking resemblance to, well, cocks.

“Bein’ a plant daddy,” Hatter told him, smiling and nodding like he was very sure of himself, “to a hardcore plant that’ll eat all the bugs in your garden. Even frogs, too!”

“Ewwwwwwwwwwwwww!!!” Was Rabbit’s first reaction. Then he leaned forward and tapped one of the cups before the Queen belted from behind him.

“That’s BARBARIC.” Immediately, Rabbit fell right on his face on the floor beside the lounge, then had to prop himself up and heave a little when he realized she had been so close to him all along. “Why would you get Rabbit a gift like that!”

Hare had recoiled just as much as Hatter, but he looked more defeated than anything else that neither of them were impressed with his gift, especially now that they were his babies that he’d raised for a week. Once again, Hatter had to do the explaining, patting Hare’s hand, which was squeezing his arm, all the while.

“We thought he needed some excitement!”

“He has PLENTY of excitement around here!”

Rabbit darted his eyes around. He wasn’t about to disagree with her, because technically she was right, it’s just… it wasn’t the good kind of excitement. The Tweedles and Alice were feeling even surer about their gifts by now.

“Well then really, this plant can keep up with him, is all we’re saying,” Hatter told her, not even missing a beat. “Oh look, it already likes him!”

For the first time in the last five minutes, Hare had something to say: “It does?”

Hatter gave him a look. “Uhhh, of course it does, Hare. Hand it over. Wouldn’t want to keep these two parted.” Try as he may to sort of direct the pot towards the birthday bunny himself, Hare was sort of squeezing it close and didn’t know how to let go. Rabbit, meanwhile, looked completely flabbergasted as he sat there on the floor beneath those looming plant dongs. The Queen threw up her hands, which just elicited more of the Tweedles’ giggling.

“You have GOT to be kidding me!”

“Uhh, they mean well, Your Majesty!” Alice tried to step in, being the noble child among the group and all that. “I mean if you think about it… it’s just as silly as any other gift they’ve given him…”

“Hmph, you’re right… there’s no way this is a joke,” her Majesty answered back in a deep voice, with her chin tucked into her neck. Then all five of them just kept watching Hatter and Hare fuss over the pot.

“Hare, just let go! One finger at a time. Come on, now.”

“I’m trying!” Hare pouted.

“I highly doubt that!”

“You don’t know what it’s like to be a mother!”

“No, but I know what it’s like to live with one!”

“DON’T shame me for being an empath!” Hare growled through his tears, still with the cactus blanket thrown over his shoulder.

“Alright you two, listen!” Rabbit professed, just before he scurried to his feet and yanked at his vest, then patted a few fuzzballs away. “I’ll keep the plant for a few days and see how it goes, but I want He’a~ on call at all times! He obviously has a grrreener thumb than I~, but I appreciate your thinking of me on my birthdehh~, so I shall try my best. Ehh… provided her Majesty approves.”

They all slowly turned to her in suspense, looking somewhere on a spectrum between apprehensive and hopeful. And then there were the Tweedles, who were just about to whip out their popcorn bowls. The Queen squinted at them for a moment before she decided it was not her circus, not her monkeys. Well, hopefully.

“Fine. But I don’t want to hear a thing about it. Call the Hare if it gives you any trouble, and if he can’t help you, hohohhhh,” her eyes bulged as she cut her hands into the air, “it’s straight back to the nursery.”

“Of course, of course. Ehh… thank you.” Rabbit nodded to the Queen awkwardly before he turned to Hare and opened his hands to receive the plant. Hare just stared at him until Hatter leaned into him.

“Give Rabbit the plant, Hare.”

“Eheheheh! Right,” he said, his arms extending out with a tremble to relinquish his babies to his favorite frenemy. Rabbit took hold of the pot and tried not to cringe as the dongs sweeping over the side brushed his forearm. Try as he may to bring them closer to his chest, Hare came with them. He laughed and gave them a better tug, which prompted Hare to tug them back. Before everyone knew it they were bouncing back and forth. Finally, Hatter took Hare’s shoulders and held him in place, so that Rabbit could pluck the monkey cups out of his motherly smother, and inspect them with none of the same sort of affection.

“Eheheh, loveleh~ loveleh~~...” he trailed. “Well, I’d better- eh, put these somewhere. T-thank you, everyone, for the birthday wishes and gifts… You’re all too kind.”

“OH WAIT, RABBIT,” Hare screeched, wriggling out of Hatter’s grasp and pulling a baby bag out of nowhere.

“This is all of his stuff!” When Rabbit took it from him, his arm plummeted as if he had just taken a bag of bowling balls.

“Gee, thanks, I feel so prepared now~” He said through his teeth to the fourth wall. Then he fluttered his fingers and rolled away. Hare looked at least somewhat reassured as Hatter patted him on the back and he blew his nose.

Part 2 coming soon!...

#adventures in wonderland #fanfiction #fanfic #hatter and hare #rabbit #don't even know how to tag this #I wrote it #lmao #me and my meandering plots #rabbit gets a gift he wasn't prepared for #that is extremely phallic #and ruins the queen's life #PG-13 #hatter mentions a hookah #hatter and hare are definitely secretly a couple

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emospritelet · 4 years

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#94 — “I wasn’t expecting a gift,” from the festive fic prompts. Original sin verse, please!

Belle heads to Storybrooke to give Demon!Gold some news...

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [AO3]

It was snowing again.

Belle closed and locked the door of the bookshop, turning her face up to the darkened sky and feeling the light kiss of cold flakes on her nose and cheeks. She let out a sigh, blinking rapidly to clear the snowflakes from her lashes, and put her keys in her bag before heading down the street. It was the day before Christmas Eve, and people hurried around her, clutching bulging bags of last-minute purchases. Belle had already made it known by virtue of a card in the bookshop window that she would not be open on Christmas Eve. It would mean that she would lose some last-minute sales, of course, but that couldn’t be helped. There was somewhere else she needed to be.

The wind was biting, and she shivered a little, pushing her chin down into her scarf as she quickened her pace. The neon sign outside Roni’s bar was a welcoming sight, and Belle ducked inside the door, letting a wave of heat and the raucous guitar of some rock ballad wash over her. She stamped snow from her boots, eyes flicking to the bar. Roni, the dark-haired owner and bartender, was deep in conversation with a woman that Belle hadn’t seen before. She was blonde and slender, with pale skin set off by the cream coat she wore above leather pants the colour of tropical sand and a cream turtleneck sweater. The woman had a glass of white wine, and was running a pale finger around the base of the glass as they talked in quiet voices. Roni had a glass in her hand, and was wiping it with a cloth in a surprisingly nervous fashion.

“So, I’m closing up tomorrow around eight,” she said. “If - if you wanted to come over for a drink, or something.”

The blonde woman smiled a little sadly.

“I don’t think my side would like that,” she said, and Roni’s face fell a little before a bright smile curved her red lips.

“Sure,” she said. “I understand. Big night for you guys, right? I don’t exactly celebrate.”

“It’s - it’s not that I don’t want to…”

“Really, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Roni turned away, her smile tight, almost a grimace, and Belle felt a surge of sympathy for her. She had never seen the blonde woman before, but there was clearly some history there, and deep feelings that were not remotely one-sided. She hoped they could work it out.

“Hey,” she said lightly, as though she hadn’t noticed their pining. “Man, it’s freezing out there!”

“Belle,” said Roni, looking relieved at her arrival. “You okay? Haven’t seen you in a week.”

“Yeah, I was feeling under the weather,” said Belle, wrinkling her nose.

“Nothing serious, I hope.”

Belle sucked her teeth, then shrugged. May as well tell someone.

“Depends on your point of view, I guess,” she said. “I’m pregnant.”

“A baby?” The blonde woman looked delighted. “That’s wonderful!”

“Thank you.”

Belle returned her warm smile. Roni’s reaction was nothing more than an upward flick of one brow.

“Oh,” she said. “Uh - congratulations?”

“Thanks.” Belle shrugged out of her coat. “You don’t seem too surprised.”

Roni pulled a face.

“You did look kinda beat last time you were in here,” she said. “When you said you couldn’t face a gin and tonic but scarfed down a bowl of pickled jalapeno slices, I gotta admit I had my suspicions.”

“Is that why you pushed me away from the wine and towards the iced tea?” said Belle wryly.

“Speaking of…” Roni picked up a glass with a questioning look, and Belle nodded, climbing onto a bar stool.

“You got any of those jalapenos?” she asked.

Roni slid a glass of iced tea across the bar towards her, and smirked before reaching for the jar of pickled chilli slices behind her.

“I’m gonna have to get in some more of these,” she said. “Never took you for a spice fiend.”

“Can’t seem to get enough of it right now,” said Belle, eyeing the slices of jalapeno as Roni scooped them up and drained them with the edge of a spoon.

“Is that a pregnancy thing?”

“Must be,” she sighed. “I guess at least it’s more healthy than my old cupcake obsession.”

“Got a fresh batch in today.” Roni pushed a little dish of pickled chillies towards her, and gestured to the plastic cake stand to her left, where sat half a dozen chocolate cupcakes, each topped with a thickly-piped swirl of inky-black frosting and a single dark cherry, sticky with syrup. “Want one? On the house, since you’re eating for two.”

Belle was tempted, tapping her fingernails on the bar.

“Guess I’d better check there’s nothing in there I shouldn’t be having,” she said. “You got a list of what’s in these things? I ate like two dozen of them leading up to Halloween, and they taste too good to be totally healthy.”

“Yeah, I got an ingredient list somewhere,” said Roni vaguely, fishing around under the bar. “The guy that makes ‘em dropped it off. Get a lot of questions about allergies. Here.”

She slapped a somewhat ragged piece of paper on the bar, and Belle looked it over. She glanced up, fixing Roni with a flat stare.

“Activated charcoal?” she said. “You weren’t planning on mentioning that?”

“Oh, yeah, apparently it’s how he got the frosting black,” said Roni, unconcerned.

“Activated charcoal?” said Belle incredulously. “Are you kidding me? I thought it was just regular food colouring!”

“What?” asked Roni, looking confused. “Isn’t it supposed to be good for you? That’s what the guy said, anyway. Some sort of hipster ingredient?”

“Not if you’re on bloody birth control!”

“What?”

“It screws it up!” exclaimed Belle, throwing up her arms and letting them fall. “You do know that?”

“Uh…” Roni shifted uneasily. “No?”

“Roni!”

“Well, why would I?” she said defensively. “I don’t take birth control! I’m not even sure I understand how it works!”

“I don’t believe this!”

“Seriously, you’ve been handing out cupcakes that mess with people’s birth control?” remarked the blonde woman. Roni put her hands on her hips.

“It wasn’t me!” she insisted. “Do you really think I could do something that evil?”

The blonde woman gave her a very flat look, and Roni huffed.

“Well, I didn’t!”

Belle leaned on the bar with a sigh.

“At least I have an explanation now,” she said dryly. “I thought it was just bad luck. Or - or good luck, I guess. You know what I mean.”

Roni leaned on the bar, putting her head to the side.

“You’re happy about it?” she asked carefully.

Belle took a sip of her iced tea, and smiled as she set down her glass.

“Yeah,” she said. “I am. I mean, it was a shock, not gonna lie, but now I’ve had time to think about it, I’m really excited. I guess the timing isn’t great, but is there ever a perfect time?”

“And the father?” Roni sounded cautious, and Belle sighed.

“Haven’t told him yet,” she admitted. “I only found out yesterday, and - well, he lives up in Maine. Something tells me this needs to be a face-to-face conversation.”

“Yeah.” Roni poured herself a glass of whisky, and leaned on the bar. “Well, I imagine he’ll be pleased to see you.”

“You think?” asked Belle. “We only had one date.”

“Apparently it was one hell of a date.” Roni sipped at her whisky.

“Yeah, but we haven’t managed to cross paths since,” she said. “We’ve been emailing, but - well, I guess it’s a long drive. He said work was keeping him busy until the New Year.”

“So are you going up there?”

“Getting the bus to Maine tomorrow,” she confirmed.

“Hmm.” Roni smirked. “Give the old bastard my regards, won’t you?”

“Do you know him?” asked Belle, confused. “He said you didn’t, but the two of you acted kind of…”

“Kind of what?”

“I don’t know.” Belle popped a chilli slice in her mouth, savouring the sharp heat. “Like you were in some sort of secret society and couldn’t talk about it.”

“Who are you talking about?” asked the blonde woman, suddenly suspicious, and Roni sent her a smile.

“No one important,” she said. “At least not to me. Don’t even know the guy’s name.”

“His name’s Damien Gold,” said Belle, and the blonde woman frowned slightly, as though she was trying to remember something.

“Anyhow, never mind about him,” said Roni hurriedly. “When’s the baby due?”

“July.”

“You know what you’re having?”

“Oh, it’s way too early to tell,” said Belle hastily. “I don’t care, anyway. Boy or girl, it doesn’t matter to me.”

“Well, I wish you every happiness,” said the blonde woman warmly, reaching out to take her hand.

Belle went to take it, opening her mouth to say thank you, when a spark of electricity bounced between them, making them both yelp and jerk back before they could touch. The woman rubbed her fingers on her pants, frowning.

“Ouch,” said Roni. “Man-made fibres, huh? Give me leather every time.”

The blonde woman gave her another suspicious, somewhat weary look, and Belle wondered exactly what it was that was going on between them. She took a sip of her iced tea, picking at the chilli slices as Roni went to serve another customer. Twenty-four hours, and she would be in Maine. Seeing the father of her child. She wondered what he was doing with his day. Whether he had the faintest notion of how his life was going to change.

The Greyhound bus pulled into Storybrooke just before seven, and Belle looked around herself as she stepped off onto a sidewalk covered in snow and crisscrossed with footprints. The town looked quaint, the main street strung with festive lights and the shops all sporting decorations. A large Christmas tree sat in a square off to her left, lights flashing red and gold, and she smiled. Storybrooke certainly embraced the Christmas spirit.

Belle clutched her bag in one hand, a holdall stuffed with enough clothes to get her through the next week if necessary. She wasn’t sure how long she would need to discuss matters with Gold. Worst case scenario, he would refuse to have anything to do with her, in which case she would be back on the bus to New York and preparing to raise her child alone. She didn’t think he would cut them off completely, but she was prepared for it nonetheless.

She had called ahead to the only place to stay in town, a bed and breakfast called Granny’s. Finding it was easy; a nearby diner bore the same name, and she could see the inn attached to it. She bypassed the diner and walked up a dark path, the trees lining it strung with coloured lights. The interior of the inn was old-fashioned, but it was clean and comfortable, and Mrs Lucas, its grey-haired owner, seemed kindhearted, if a little brusque.

She did little more than check that her room was clean before dropping her bag on the bed and rummaging in it for the gift she had brought. Perhaps it was foolish, bringing Gold a Christmas present, but she had been poking around the flea market and the item had called to her. She had taken it home and set it carefully in a box, wrapping it in bright red paper with stylised reindeer and Santa figures, and tied it up with a red ribbon. Now that she was looking at it, it seemed garish and somehow insulting, although she wasn’t sure why anyone would be insulted by receiving a present. Telling herself she was nervous, and therefore not thinking straight, she shoved it into her handbag and checked her hair and make-up, reapplying deep red lipstick and pulling her cloche hat back on her head.

Belle had asked Mrs Lucas where Mr Gold’s antique shop could be found, and after receiving a surprised, narrow-eyed look, had been given directions. She could hear the noise from the diner as she passed by: Christmas music and the raucous laughter and cheerful conversation of the diners. It faded as she walked away, down the darkened streets with the snow falling around her and deadening her footsteps. It was late, and she wasn’t sure if she would find Gold in his shop, but the lit sign appeared out of the night, a square of gold against the black of the sky. His was the only shop not decked with coloured lights, the window displaying an old tea set, an ancient globe and a brass telescope, all cushioned on black velvet and lit with a warm, golden light. Perhaps he didn’t celebrate Christmas. It made her feel even more nervous about buying him a gift.

Glancing through the window, she could see him, and her heart began to thump harder. He was standing behind the shop counter, hands poised on tented fingers and his eyes fixed on the door, as though he was waiting for someone. As though he was waiting for her. It made her swallow hard, her nerves increasing. Why the hell didn’t I call, tell him I was coming? What if he has family visiting? What if - what if he has a wife? Is that the reason he didn’t come back? Because he has his own life here? Oh God, why didn’t I bloody well call?

Taking a deep breath, and telling herself to be brave, she pushed open the door, a bell tinkling cheerfully above. It swung shut behind her, and she took a step forward, moving closer. Gold’s dark eyes caught hers, but there was a tiny smile on his face, and it gave her courage, made her move closer.

The shop smelt of beeswax and old books, filled with the low, rhythmic ticking of clocks and the gleam of soft yellow light on polished wood and shining brass and cut crystal. Belle stepped up the counter, meeting Gold’s eyes. He was wearing black, the faint gleam of silk in the folds of his shirt where gold sleeve garters pushed them up above his elbows. His tie was black silk, too, with a damask pattern, a gold tie pin clipped across its dark length. He wore no jacket, a waistcoat closely fitting his slim form, the thin gold chain of a pocket watch looping across from his belt. His hair hung around his face, soft and shining, and she remembered how it had felt slipping between her fingers, brushing her cheeks as he moved inside her. She felt a surge of desire go through her, and licked her lips. Not the time.

“Hey,” she said, and he smiled in a satisfied manner, settling back on his heels a little.

“Miss French,” he said. “How lovely to see you.”

“I think we’re on first name terms,” she said, with a nervous smile. “We’ve seen each other very naked, or did you forget?”

Gold’s grin widened, showing white teeth.

“Oh, I could never forget that.” He put his head to the side. “How are you?”

“I’m - uh - fine.”

Her heart was thumping, her belly twisting with nerves. How would he react? Would he be pleased? Angry? Certainly he’d be shocked, but would he reject her, reject his child? God, she wished she had called first! Telling herself it was too bloody late now, she decided to follow her original plan. She reached into her bag, taking out the gift-wrapped box, and placed it on the counter.

“Merry Christmas,” she said nervously.

Gold blinked, and looked from the present to her and back again, seemingly unsure of himself.

“I wasn’t expecting a gift.”

“Tis the season.”

“Yes.”

He picked it up and turned it over in his hands, looking oddly hesitant.

“I thought you’d come to me,” he admitted. “But I didn’t know when that would be. Perhaps the New Year, or—”

“Did you want me to come?” God, this was agony! Gold sighed, but gave her that tiny smile again.

“Of course I did,” he said. “What I mean to say is, I - I don’t have anything to give you in return. I don’t celebrate, you see. Tomorrow I was planning on doing inventory.”

“That’s okay,” she said, and took a deep breath. “You already gave me the best present I could hope for, anyway.”

His eyes flicked up to meet hers, a gleam of gold shining in their depths.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” She shifted awkwardly. “Uh - you might want to be sitting down for this.”

His smile widened.

“Whatever you have to tell me, I can take it.”

“Right.”

Her heart was hammering in her chest, her skin prickling all over, and she wanted nothing more than to climb over the counter and kiss him. She licked her lips, and summoned all her courage, raising her chin.

“I’m pregnant.”

#sprite's festive fic fest #fic:original sin verse #rumbelle #jackabelle73 #rumbelle fic #my fic #demon!gold and human!belle #fic: communion #demon/human relationships #demon/human pregnancy #just ignore the ridiculousness of this whole situation #there'll be hot smut at some point #and a HEA

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amyscascadingtabs · 5 years

Text

the missing pieces of my heart, they finally collide

The socks are the smallest thing he has ever seen.

Jake isn’t sure how exactly he ended up having a low-key freakout in the middle of the day at an H&M, but he figures there is a first for everything - public meltdowns over impending fatherhood included.

(In which Jake is scared of fatherhood and baby socks are really, really tiny.)

read on ao3

april

The socks are the smallest thing he has ever seen.

He has been doing well with his fears since they found out about Amy being pregnant. He didn’t panic when she showed him the beginning of her pregnancy binder. He stayed calm at their first visit to the obstetrician. He did shed a tear when they got to hear a loud and strong heartbeat and see a tiny, white, moving blur that’s supposedly their baby on a screen for the first time, but in his defense, Amy cried more.

They're having a kid now, and he's ready; as ready as he feels he can be at this point. Come early December this year, he'll be saying farewell to full nights of sleep, double shifts at work and watching all the movies for adults and teens he can think of.

It’s a guarded excitement. For now, it’s this humongous secret they carry around, trying to explain away their absence at Shaw’s nights and why it looks like Amy’s always about five seconds from either throwing up or falling asleep, without revealing the truth just yet. At the same time, it’s the knowledge their lives are about to be forever changed, and it’s equal shares thrilling and petrifying.

They’ve known for three weeks, which is not a lot of time - Jake has eaten older lunches from the precinct’s fridge at least twice - but already he’s spent oceans of time thinking about it. It just so happens that when he’s not doing everything to take care of his exhausted, nauseous, and emotional wife, his thoughts circle back to the monochrome sonogram picture and the indescribable, undiluted love building inside him whenever he looks at it in his phone gallery.

He’s excited, but he’s never been more scared in his life. He’s worried about miscarriages and diseases and complications and how there’s such a thing as sudden infant death where a baby can straight-up die without any explanation. He’s scared of doing too much and not doing enough and he’s helplessly scared of becoming his own father, and so far the only person he can talk about it with is Amy. The problem is he doesn’t want to bother her with his asinine fears; he’s sure that reminding her of all the terrible things he’s learned can happen will do more harm than good, plus she’s exhausted all the time now and would likely fall asleep in the middle of the conversation. He finds it endearing how she’ll fight to keep her eyes open before falling asleep next to him on the couch, but she’s become pretty much worthless in any conversation longer than three minutes. Consequently, Jake’s keeping his fears to himself for now, taking deep breaths and hovering with his thumb over the number to the shrink he had a series of appointments with a year ago.

He takes it one day at a time. It’s what he tells Amy to do when she complains about feeling too sick and miserable to appreciate anything, so he figures he might as well follow his own advice. He handles things to the best of his ability, trudges his way through a few pages in his copy of The Expectant Father: The Ultimate Guide For Dads-To-Be when Amy falls asleep, and every Wednesday there is a new fruit or vegetable comparison available on the pregnancy app he’s downloaded. This week, their baby is the size of a raspberry, so naturally he bought two jars of them when he stopped by the fruit seller earlier in the day.

(“Are you going to do this for every week?” His wife had asked with a curious gleam to her eyes as he made her company while she ate a late, bland breakfast.

“Only for the fruits I actually like," he’d told her, and she'd laughed before accepting a few of the berries he held out to her.)

The original agenda for their Saturday was to run errands together, but Amy's had a long week already without enough time to rest. A pregnancy podcast he listened to yesterday told him that rest is crucial if you're pregnant, so Jake promptly instructed his wife to spend her day on the couch while he completed their to-do-list on his own. Her grateful smile when he handed her their best fluffy blanket and made her a cup of green lemon tea before leaving told him he made the right choice.

So far, he’s mailed a gift for Amy's great-aunt, left a carpet at the dry cleaner and picked up more of his wife’s favorite pink grapefruit shower gel. He’s also informed Amy of all this via Snapchat, using the most ridiculous filters he could find to put a smile on her lips and received equally hilarious pictures back. The last errand before food shopping is H&M; one of his best navy hoodies caught on fire at work last week, and Jake can’t risk being out of a hoodie - the world could collapse for less. He finds one that seems decent and is about to go pay for it when he catches sight of the neon sign from the corner of his eye. BABY, 0-12 MONTHS.

They’ve agreed not to start buying clothes for a few more weeks. Even window-shopping for them without Amy feels like cheating, yet it's as if a gravitational force is pulling him towards the newborn clothing section. Just to have a look, he defends it to himself as he enters it.

All the clothes are tiny.

All the clothes are overwhelmingly tiny, too much for him to take in even though he’s not sure what he expected. He walks around in a daze, eventually coming to a stop at a shelf with baby socks. Right in front of him hangs a grey-and-white two-pack with writing on them - the white pair says I ♥️ MUM, and the grey pair I ♥️ DAD.

That’s when Jake loses it.

Up until this point, he hasn’t cried. There was the single tear at their first ultrasound, the one he’s not counting in comparison to Amy’s flood of them, but aside from that? No crying. He’s held it together like the responsible dad and family man he’s going to have to become in about seven months, but he runs his finger over the soft cotton blend stuck to a piece of white cardboard, and a stubborn tear trails down his cheek. Then another, and another, bringing with them panicked breathing and a sensation of walls closing in on him.

He’s going to be a dad. He’s going to have partial responsibility for a miniature human at least up until the day they turn eighteen years old. He knows what a good dad is from watching Terry and Charles and even Holt, but he lacks all perception when it comes to the question of whether he knows how to be one.

There will be a whole new person in his world, demanding attention, love, and care. He’s going to make mistakes and have to hope what he’ll do right will be enough to outweigh them. He’s excited but he’s scared and he’s scared but he’s excited - the two keep conflicting, and he’s never certain which is stronger. He’s not sure it matters when he’s standing in a clothing store, unable to make himself stop panic-breathing and crying as he clutches the two-pack of unfathomably minuscule socks.

“Sir? Sir, I’m sorry, but are you okay?” A warm hand touches his shoulder through the leather jacket, and he spins around to find a tan-skinned, round-cheeked young woman with dark curls and an employee tag in a red lanyard around her neck. She’s giving him a worried look, and he blushes with instant embarrassment.

“Yeah, yeah.” He snivels, wiping a few tears on the sleeve of his jacket. “Sorry.”

“That’s okay," she assures him, though it sounds tentative. A wave of guilt crashes over him as he realizes how terrible a customer she must find him; no retail employee can want to spend their underpaid hours comforting crying strangers. “Has something happened?”

“They’re so small," Jake mumbles, and she raises an eyebrow, so he clarifies. “The socks.”

“They’re for babies.”

“I know.”

“So… they’re supposed to be small.”

“I know.”

“Then what’s the issue here?”

“I’m going to be a dad," he blurts out to her, realizing it's the first time he's said the words out loud. They feel foreign, like he's speaking from the perspective of another stellar undercover personality he just made up, but easier than he expected them to. “This November. My wife and I are having a baby.”

The employee smiles at him. “Aww! Congratulations. That’s amazing.”

“It is," he admits. “I’m really happy about it. But you know, it’s this huge responsibility. I suck at being responsible and I had a crappy dad.” Jake grimaces. “Like, seriously, the crappiest. Mayor of Craptown in the country of Crappy Dads.”

“You're scared you'll suck at it, too?” He nods, and she shakes her head, shrugging. “You probably won't. Lots of mediocre guys have kids that grow up perfectly fine.”

“I… thanks?”

“If you ask me," she continues, “the fact that you’re scared just means you want to do a good job. If you want to do a good job, I’m pretty sure that means you love your kid. Put those two together and you have a solid basis.”

Her comment makes Jake's mind flick back to the moment with Amy in the hospital lobby after his negotiation with Pam. He’d realized then how maybe fear could, in the end, be the key to guaranteeing he would do a good job. Trusting said realization is another thing entirely - but he wants to, and he tries to.

He clears his throat. “I do love my kid. I mean, I barely know them yet and I love them already. It doesn't even make sense.”

“Then I’m sure you’ll be okay.”

“Do you have kids, or…?”

She gives him an honest chortle before shaking her head again. “I have a cat, though.”

“Ah.”

“Are you going to buy those socks, by the way? Not to be a jerk, but I feel like you crying on them means you gotta buy them.”

“... yeah. Yeah, I’ll buy them.”

He leaves the store feeling equal parts humiliated and relieved, painfully aware he owes Amy an explanation for buying the first item of clothing for their baby without her, but somehow, he leaves it feeling better.

(He tells Amy about his breakdown when he gets home. The next day, he goes back to leave a handwritten thank-you-note for the friendly employee.)

october

Her clothes are the smallest thing he has ever seen.

With eight weeks left to the due date, Jake is getting used to the thought of what’s to come. The arrival of their daughter - they’re having a daughter, his intuition is better than Amy’s - is fast approaching, and if it wasn’t clear enough to him from the close to finished nursery in their apartment and the stroller on its way to them, Charles now has a daily countdown on his phone.

(“64 days today," had been his greeting yesterday, and Jake couldn’t even bring himself to be annoyed.)

He struggles to determine whether he feels ready, but he does feel prepared, which makes the worries easier to live with. Amy made them a Type-A-style preparation checklist the day she entered her twelfth week of pregnancy, and though Jake found it excessive at first, he knows they wouldn't have survived without it. Not only have they researched and purchased everything an infant could possibly need in terms of material things and watched four informative documentaries together, but he’s also read two and a half books about babies and parenthood and gone to a class in parenting. It turned out to be one of the weirdest experiences of his life, but at least it made him a self-proclaimed master in the art of holding a fake baby doll correctly.

His excitement is genuine now - no longer clouded beneath the veil of apprehension and nervousness it once was. It's impossible not to feel excited when every night, he'll curl up next to Amy on the couch and simply talk to their baby, drawing lazy patterns with his fingers on her bump until he's able to feel a foot or an arm, their kid kicking and pressing and doing somersaults at the sound of his voice. When he's unsure what to talk about, he’ll read Harry Potter or play Taylor Swift to his unborn daughter. Style, so far, appears to be her favorite.

The nursery has only a few last touches left to it before it’s fully ready. This week, they’re spending their Saturday dealing with one of them and sorting out their kid’s collection of clothes. It's turned out to be a project for a full day - first washing everything with hypoallergenic laundry detergent, then letting each item hang to dry, then folding, sorting and placing everything in the dresser. Jake’s been staring at newborn clothes for hours on end, and he still can't fathom how small they are.

He's seen them before, of course. He was there to buy most of them and has marveled over everything from the tiny hats to the Harry Potter-onesies to the red-and-black-checkered baby flannel Amy found, several times already. It doesn't seem to help; for each colorful item with animals, stripes or bright colors he folds and places in its correct pile, he's reminded his kid will be wearing these clothes. Once the initial sparks of excitement fade, the waves of fear he thought he was free of engulf him anew.

It's the fear he's felt each time he's been held at gunpoint, except he's no longer fearing for his own life but for his child’s. He fears something terrible will happen to them which he won't be able to stop and he fears he will be the cause of it. It's the fear that reappears at odd occasions, submerging him in nightmare scenarios of long-time undercover operations only he can execute. He fears death threats forcing him into witness protection. It's the fear where he imagines a five-year-old with Amy's nose and dark hair standing in front of him with crossed arms and downcast eyes asking where he's been for the last weeks, and then Amy's there as well asking the same thing. He fears having no better answer to give than I got too wrapped up wanting to solve a case again, I forgot to come home.

Though he’ll do everything in his power to be a good parent, there’s an inevitable risk he’ll fail. It shakes him and it haunts him and seems to paralyze him right then and there.

“Babe?” Amy’s voice, calm but suspecting, helps him snap out of it. He looks up from the mint-green onesie with smiling clouds he’s holding to find her watching him with worried advertence. “You zoned out.”

“Sorry, Ames. You were saying?”

“Oh, just about the car seat.” She nods in the direction of a carton box near the door. “I was thinking we should install it tomorrow.”

“Car seat. Great. That’s cool," he mumbles in an attempt to fake normalcy and steer the conversation away from his looming meltdown. “Cool, cool, cool.”

“Jake.”

“I’m fine.”

Amy rolls her eyes at that, shuffling a few inches closer to him on the long-pile rug with what little gracefulness she can manage. “Clearly not. Come on, you can talk to me.”

“You don’t have to listen," he assures her, but she shakes her head.

“I already am. Wanna tell me what’s up?”

The words stagger on the tip of his tongue, faltering before he figures out how to express them.

“It's the same things. Same fears as before.”

“Do you need to talk about them?”

He does, to some extent, but she's heard his panicked thoughts before and helped him through them what feels like a million times. His eight months pregnant wife deserves better than listening to his preposterous fears when they're supposed to be folding clothes.

“I don't want to bother you," he excuses himself.

Amy glares at him in reaction. It’s the glare reserved for when one of her uniformed officers makes a detrimental mistake, or he tells her he thinks they might be ordering too much Polish food, wordlessly telling him he's made a mistake.

“I think I can handle it," she says. “Do you want to talk about them?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” She nods, putting a pair of newborn-size white pajamas with red hearts in the sleepwear pile and holding his left hand in hers. Their fingers intertwine, wedding rings next to one another. “Go ahead. I’m listening.”

There’s guilt as he rambles to her about equally unlikely scenarios and the fears he was supposed to have let go of by now. He’d meant it when he said he felt ready a little over a year ago, and he loves and wants the child that gets the hiccups in the middle of her parents’ conversation so much, which he assures Amy of in about every other sentence. The fear doesn't take away from the love, but it makes it feel more inaccessible at times, harder to reach behind the dense fog of anxiety. Jake detests that feeling. He wants to love this child without the overpowering fear, wants to feel the excitement he’s gotten used to always, and most of all, he doesn’t want to have to doubt himself each and every second of each day.

Amy’s silent while she listens. She doesn’t utter a word until she’s sure he’s finished, catching his breath from the anxiety and fast-paced talking. Instead, she hugs him from the side, letting him rest his head on her shoulder while he slowly returns to a calmer peace of mind.

“I just don’t want you to think I’m not excited," he whispers once he can speak again.

“I see your face every time she kicks when you talk to her," she replies matter-of-factly, guiding his right hand to rest high up on her belly where the hiccups have calmed down only to be replaced with stubborn kicking. The corners of his mouth twitch into a grin, and he laughs at the timing. “No one could ever see that and think you’re not excited.”

“I know.” He sighs. “But I’m not doing anything right now, it’s all you. The moment she’s here, it’ll be different. What if I don’t know what to do?”

“You know what to do, you’re practically Santiago-level-prepared at this point.”

“What if I blank?”

“You won’t blank.”

“What if?”

“Jake.”

“I know, I know.” A metallic taste in his mouth makes him realize he’s bleeding, having bitten too hard on his lip. “You have total faith in me and all that.”

“You’re saying it like you think I don't mean it," she points out, eyes narrowed. “I do have total faith in you, because I know you and would never have agreed to have this baby with you if I didn't trust you could handle it.”

“I’m scared, though. I thought I wouldn’t be scared at this point, but it’s still there.”

“So am I. So is everyone who's ever been a parent.” There’s a small smile on Amy’s lips as she reaches for a pair of socks from the pile of them. “I think it’s part of it.”

“It’s the worst part," he argues, and she lets out a short laugh.

“Maybe it is. I guess we’ll just have to see if it’s worth it.” She hands him the socks, and he can’t help but beam as he recognizes them.

They’re light grey and impossibly tiny, with I ♥️ DAD printed on them in capital letters. It’s the very first item of clothing he bought for his child, having been made to purchase them ensuing his breakdown in an H&M store five long months ago. He’d nearly forgotten about them, but he holds them in his hands now, wondering how on earth an item smaller than his palm could ever fit a living person.

“That’s true, you know," Amy tells him in a quiet voice. He looks up to find her eyes glistening, but she wipes the threatening tears away before they fall this time. “She’s going to love you so much. She already does.”

“How can you know?”

“For one, she goes absolutely nuts when you're talking.” Amy shakes her head, grinning fondly. “Even if you’re not physically there. Like last week, when you left that message about being on your way home. I listened to it on speaker and she started kicking me in the ribs. She's getting strong now, so it hurts.”

He laughs, blushing. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. It's super cute, and it totally gets my dumb, hormone-fuelled emotions every time.”

She leans slightly forward and he takes the hint, letting go of the disarmingly cute socks to lock lips with his wife. It's short and perhaps not the most passionate of kisses, quickly interrupted the moment Amy gets too out of breath, but it lasts long enough for him to enjoy the feel of her lips against his, the softness of her skin as he cups her face.

“I love you," he declares when they break apart. The socks are next to his knees on the violet carpet and he picks them up again, smiling to himself as he places them on top of Amy's bump. “Both of you.”

“Well, cheeseball, we both love you back. You're a lucky guy.”

“I am. I really, really am.”

(The fear refuses to disappear altogether, but it stays under control for the rest of the wait. By the time Amy’s contractions start five weeks later, Jake's all excitement and little anything else.)

november

His daughter is the smallest thing he has ever seen.

Person, he corrects himself. She's a person, a whole little individual with ten fingers and ten toes and a full head of dark hair, and she’s managed to utterly and completely steal his heart in the forty-three hours she’s spent out in the world.

Leah Rose Charlotte Santiago-Peralta is marginally smaller than the average newborn, thanks to her just over three weeks early arrival, but she’s perfectly healthy and strong. After two nights at the hospital, the new family is cleared to go home.

Jake has his first minor freakout post Leah’s birth when the doctor tells them. He’ll have to drive, which means there’s an atomic but existing risk they’ll crash. Once they go home, there will be no more friendly nurses to help, no more surprisingly excellent coffee machines in the communal kitchen, and no more red buttons next to the bed they can press if they panic. They’ll be on their own in their mission of keeping a helpless infant alive, and Jake’s not sure he’s ready.

He looks over at Amy to where she’s propped up in the hospital bed feeding their daughter and opens his mouth to communicate this, but he changes his mind once he sees them. With Amy’s gratified smile overpowering the bags under her eyes and with Leah’s content suckling noises, there’s no doubt whatsoever.

He’s ready. He’s always been ready for them.

Leah cries when they fasten her in the car seat. There’s a fleeting moment where he worries the drive will be a twenty-minute crying party, but she passes out the second the car starts moving and sleeps through her first car ride like it’s no big deal. She continues sleeping through her first ride up the building’s elevator, and snoozes through being carried over the doorstep into their apartment.

“Welcome home, Lee," he tells her as they enter, hospital bags in tow. “You too, Ames.”

“Thanks," Amy mumbles.“It feels nice.”

He nods, leaving their bags on the living room floor for later unpacking as he helps her unfasten Leah in the seat. “You feeling okay, babe?”

“I guess," she shrugs. “I’d kill for a proper shower, though.”

“So go take one.”

She hesitates, observing him closely as if she’s searching for something. “Are you sure? I can stay with you if you don’t want to be alone with her for too long, I know you think it’s scary - “

“Ames.” He places a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You can take a shower. You can take a long shower if you want to, because god knows you deserve it. Need it, even.”

“That’s hurtful.”

“Go take that shower," he repeats, kissing her forehead. “Lee and I will be okay.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay, then.” She kisses first Leah’s, then his cheek, and squeezes his hand one last time before heading towards their bathroom. “Have a good father-daughter bonding time. Kick it off with a diaper change, will you?”

“This isn't my favorite part," Jake informs his daughter as she starts waking up on the changing table, grunting when he has to take off the cozy, white overall they brought her home in. “I’m not sure it’s anyone’s. I’ll do it for you, though.”

He promised himself after seeing Amy go through twenty-six hours of torturous pain that he'd do all the changes he could for the first weeks. So far he's sticking to it; it’s not the most enjoyable of experiences, but it's simple and straightforward enough for him to feel like he's mastering it with some proficiency.

“So," he narrates while he navigates his mission. “This is going pretty well. We're doing good, Lee.”

She eyes him with skepticism, letting out a few whimpers before they’re done, but he keeps his calm and draws a breath of relief when she doesn’t start crying.

“See? We did it.” He holds her little hands, waving them like she’s the one doing it. “We’re just going to get you a new pair of pajamas and we’ll be all set.”

It’s the first time he’s dressing her without Amy’s input. Seeing how he technically has the freedom to put their daughter in a Die Hard-onesie and varicolored leggings, Jake considers it a mature use of his power when he opts for white pajamas with a pink rose print and a regular pair of grey socks.

He figures they’re a regular pair, at least. He realizes otherwise when he unrolls them to find the familiar I ♥️ DAD-print on them. They bring a smile to his lips as he thinks back to when he bought them, back when no one knew their secret yet, and he was scared out of his mind he wouldn’t be able to do the exact thing he’s doing now.

He puts the socks on Leah’s feet, shaking his head at how the itty-bitty clothing items are still almost too large for her. He has to roll the socks up so they’ll stay on, but they work, and the result is possibly the most endearing thing he’s seen. He snaps a few shots with his phone - it’s lucky he upgraded its storage, because he’s already taken enough photos to fill a museum of baby pictures - and then kisses Leah’s forehead, lifting her so she’s held against his chest as he carries her out to the living room and sinks down on the couch.

Jake must have been on this couch nearly a thousand times. From pre-relationship Thanksgiving dinners to early dates to countless movie nights on this particular piece of furniture, a substantial part of all the hours Jake's ever spent at home with Amy has been focused to the off-white seats. He's had makeout sessions, sleepless nights and lengthy discussions on it, but it's the first time he hangs out with his daughter there.

He must say she seems pretty chill about everything new so far. She lays against his legs without complaint, and he watches her as she blinks and yawns, waving and kicking her limbs with intermittent, jerky movements.

“Cool to have this much space, huh? Must've been pretty cramped in your first living quarters," he comments on her stretches. “I can't believe we have you here already. I mean, I figured you'd be early because of those Santiago genes, but your mom convinced me not to get my hopes up.”

“I kind of knew, though," he adds, holding her tiny feet through the socks. “I had a feeling. This is when you say yeah, dad, you were totally right, you're the smartest.”

Leah makes little bubbling noises with her lips in response. Jake decides to interpret them as an agreement.

The shower stops running in the background. He figures this means Amy should be back soon, but for now he has some remaining alone time to enjoy with his daughter. He's in the exact situation he was scared for his life to even think about six months ago, the only one in charge if Leah starts wailing uncontrollably or stops breathing or some other nightmare scenario, but for some reason, he's not panicking.

He's calm. Somehow, he thinks she's the secret.

“I'm still a bit nervous, you know," he tells her while she keeps up her squirming. Every now and then she squints at him like she’s trying to make out the details of his face, looking adorably skeptical. “I know what it’s like to have a crappy parent, and I’m scared of becoming one. I probably will be for a long time, but… I’m starting to think it’s going to be okay.”

He has to take a break before he keeps talking, taking a deep breath to compose himself.

“I’m going to try my best, always. Every single day. I’ll probably fail a whole bunch, but I’m always going to try. For you.”

Leah accidentally punches herself in the face with one of her fists as he says the last words, making herself gasp in confusion and Jake laugh.

“I promise," he adds with a careful grip of her tiny hands, nudging at one fist with his pinkie until her fingers close around it. “I’m not going to leave you, ever.”

It’s a dicey promise to make for someone with his profession. Too many times in his career, he’s had to pack his things and leave everything behind for reasons far beyond his control, and he’s known for getting so sucked into a case he’ll forget to eat and sleep and go home for days on end. Neither of these factors are compatible with having and raising children, and while he can’t really control whether any mafia bosses will force him to go into hiding soon, Jake knows he’s picked up his last double shift for a long, long while. He has almost all of the next month off to learn how to be a family with his wife and daughter, and even after he returns to work, the shifts will be fewer and somewhat shorter.

Four years ago it would’ve been agony. Now, he couldn’t be more excited.

He’s going to watch his daughter grow up and become the coolest little person in the Universe, and he gets to do it all with the love of his life. It’s a nonpareil joy, and he wants to describe it all in words to Leah, but he’s sleep-deprived and overtired and ever-so-slightly worried it’d be the factor to finally bring him to tears, so he starts humming Hedwig’s Theme to the newborn instead.

“Oh, man.” He notices Amy’s presence first when he hears her sniffle and sees her shake her head as she sits down next to them. Her hair is blow-dried and she’s changed into grey pajama pants and a tank-top, completing the outfit with a blue hoodie identical to his own. He suspects both the pants and hoodie are originally his, but when it comes to stopping her from stealing his clothes, he lost the battle a long time ago.“I was so proud of myself for not having cried yet today, and then you go ruin it.”

“I mean," he grins, giving her an amused look. “Is making you cry really that much of an achievement right now?”

“Don’t try me," she warns him and dabs at her eyes with the sleeves of her hoodie. “You wouldn’t last an hour with these hormones. Or any other part of it.”

“Fair judgment.”

“Yeah.” Leah’s begun to whimper again, puckering her lips at the sound of Amy’s voice. “You want to give her over? I think she's hungry.”

“Do you magically sense that or something?” He transfers his daughter over to his wife, gently as if she’d been made of crystal glass.

“My boobs feel like stone, does that count?”

“Ah.”

“Trust me, they're not the worst thing.” Jake grimaces, and Amy laughs at his reaction while she adjusts herself, a couple of pillows and Leah to a comfortable position. “Giving birth is a nightmare.”

“Sorry you had to," he says, scooching closer so he reaches to put his arm around her shoulders. “You were incredible, if it's any consolation.”

“Thank you.” She whispers the words without looking at him. Her gaze is locked on Leah, pure admiration lighting up her face while she watches the newborn eat. “I see you chose her socks.”

“She looks cute, right? I think they suit her.”

“She's wearing the mom-ones tomorrow," Amy states. “And she’s always cute, but yes. They suit her.”

As intense of an effort as it is to divert his attention from the newborn, Jake’s growling stomach eventually reminds him they haven’t eaten since lunch. Pizza seems as good a celebration as any after three days of hospital food, he decides, and manages to finish their order and end the call right when Leah finishes eating.

“I can take her," he offers, and Amy gently transfers the girl back, helping him hold her so that her chin rests on his shoulder.

“You look like such a dad.” Amy laughs. “It’s a good look on you.”

“I am a dad," he corrects her, and she smiles wide.

“You are. How do you feel about it?”

“I don’t know," he confesses. “Happy and nervous. She’s the greatest thing in the world, clearly, and I have no idea if I’ll be good enough at taking care of her, but…” He takes a deep breath. “I love her, and I hope so.”

“I know you will be. I think Lee does, too.”

As if to either confirm or deny her mother’s suggestion, Leah chooses that very moment to let out a loud burp and spit up all down the back of his hoodie.

“Burp cloth, Ames, you forgot the burp cloth," he mutters as his wife wheezes with laughter.

He doesn’t bother changing his hoodie. It would take getting up and disturbing the milk-drunk baby who falls asleep on his chest minutes later, curled up like a koala bear with her mouth open, and he can’t make himself risk waking her up.

She’s a warm, comfortable weight against his ribs, in perfect height for him to kiss the top of her head if he looks down. He’s never seen anyone look quite so peaceful.

Amy leans her head on his spit-up free shoulder, snuggling into his side and holding one of their daughter’s fists in her hand, and Jake never knew his heart could grow to the size it’s doing.

He figures it’s for the best. If he’s going to spend the rest of his life loving the two people currently falling asleep on him with everything he has, his heart will have to perform some serious expansion.

(It does.)

#my writing #b99 fic #jake x amy fic #peraltiago fic #jake x amy #peraltiago #babyfic #b99

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