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spencers-renaissance · 3 years

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you look after everyone, but who looks after you?

Summary: Penelope is sad and lonely and thinks nobody can see her struggling, but Emily does. When she shows up at her apartment unannounced, one thing leads to another, and soon a miserable evening turns into one of the best in Penelope's life.

Tags: hurt/comfort, sad penelope, angst w a happy ending, cuddling, tooth-rotting fluff, getting together, first kiss, friends to lovers

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Penelope Garcia

Word Count: 1.7k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

I'm imagining s5/6 penemily for this one!

Penelope's small and bright apartment is her only source of comfort tonight, and although she does absolutely everything in her power to maximise the cosiness, to feel as safe and warm as possible inside its protective walls, it still doesn't feel like enough.

She's sad, and she's tired, and a larger part of her than she'd like to admit is bitter, which is an icky emotion, and she hates more than anything that it exists inside of her but tonight, it does, and there isn't anything she can do to stamp that stubborn little flame out.

She has always prided herself on the way she acts towards others. She makes sure that people are okay, and she bakes homemade muffins and puts them on their desks with one of her colourful toys when the bad stuff is getting to them, and she gives out hugs like there's no tomorrow; that's who Penelope Garcia is, and it's something that will always be important to her, no matter what.

But sometimes— sometimes she wants her own Penelope Garcia. It's easier to cheer other people up, to make them smile on a sad and rainy day, than it is to pick herself up out of her own all-consuming, utterly inexorable funks that creep up on her every now and then. And because happiness, colour, and bright smiles are who she can't help but be, people don't always see through that facade when it's no longer an instinct but a mask.

And because she would never dream of putting her bad mood or her sadness or her heavy, weighty grief on the shoulders of anyone else, she's left on her own.

When the last candle is the living room is lit, and her favourite lamps are on; when she's taken a hot shower, and she's put on her favourite pyjamas; when she's placed the order for her dinner-for-one, she sits down slowly on the sofa and pulls her knees up to her chest, staring at the inky blackness of the one window she forgot to draw the curtains over. As she stares, the inky blackness she feels on the inside only grows until it consumes her, swirling aggressively until tears are streaming down her face, and she's choking back sobs that threaten to rip her chest in two.

She's only brought out of her miserable, desolate stupor when the intercom buzzes with a visitor that she supposes is probably the delivery man with her Chinese order. She'd fancied Indian, but it reminded her too much of the team dinners Spencer always dragged them to, and that was just a little too painful for a lonesome night like this.

"Come on up," she says into the intercom, not bothering to hide the tiredness in her voice from a stranger she'll never see again, and without waiting for a response, she sits back on the sofa, staring at the purple walls of her apartment until there's a soft knock at the door.

Almost on auto-pilot, she stands up and opens the door, and her eyes widen as she stares in shock at Emily Prentiss standing in her hallway.

"You're not the delivery man," she whispers, still staring at her with wide eyes.

Emily chuckles sadly. "No, Pen. I'm not."

Penelope nods, blinking a couple of times, very unsure of what to do next or why the woman she's secretly in love with is standing in front of her at 10pm on a Tuesday night.

"Can I come in?" Emily prompts.

"Oh, uh— yes, of course." She opens the door wide enough for Emily to slip into her warmly lit living room and takes the opportunity of Emily's back briefly turned to scrub fruitlessly at her makeup-less, tear-stained face.

"This is cosy."

"Yeah, I just reread my favourite book about Hygge."

"Hygge?"

"It's uh. It's a Danish thing." Usually, she jumps at the opportunity to talk about Hygge and all the things she'd learned from her trip to visit her Danish friend last year, but right now, she's far too tired.

Emily nods, dropping her handbag by the door and walking over to take a seat on the sofa. "Come sit."

Penelope obeys and curls up in the opposite end to Emily, pulling a blanket over her lap and cuddling into it in another vain attempt to cheer herself up. Still, when pretty candles and the promise of takeaway can't make her happy, there really isn't much hope.

They stare at each other for a couple of minutes before Emily speaks, leaning forward a little. "How are you feeling, Penelope?"

Penelope blinks. "I'm fine."

Emily smiles, and again, it's sad. "No, Pen. How are you really feeling?"

She continues staring but doesn't say anything in response.

Emily scoots a little closer on the sofa. "Listen, I've watched you over the last couple of days. I know you're having a hard time, and I know that you won't say anything to anyone because you're brave and strong and quiet in your suffering. You look after everyone, Penelope, but who looks after you?"

Immediately at hearing those words, her face crumples, and she descends into the tears she'd only just managed to stop moments earlier. This time, though, the sobs she'd been choking back spillover, wracking her shoulders as she hugs her knees to her chest, desperate to hold herself together as she completely falls apart.

"Oh, Pen." Emily moves even closer and pries Penelope's hands away from her knees until she's able to guide her into a hug. Penelope usually tries to keep her physical distance from Emily, too scared of what she'll do if given a chance to touch her, but right now, she can't help but bury her face in her neck and cling on to her for dear life as Emily holds her back just as tightly.

"Shh, you're okay, honey," she soothes quietly, running her hand up and down her back gently as she lets Penelope fall apart in her arms. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

She says everything Penelope needs to hear as she cries herself out, sobs eventually receding to tired sniffles as she pulls away from Emily slightly, a little embarrassed of her actions.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cry on you like that."

Emily brings a hand to her chin and lifts her face gently until she's looking directly into Emily's warm, kind brown eyes. "You have nothing to apologise for, okay? I'm just sorry you've been having such a rough time and haven't had anyone to talk to about it."

Penelope nods, still embarrassed that she fell apart so easily but feeling soothed and comforted by Emily's warm words and gentle hands.

Just then, the buzzer goes again. "That's, uh, that's my dinner."

"Ah," Emily says, nodding in understanding. "Is that who you thought I was?"

Penelope looks away sheepishly. "Yeah."

"That explains the abrupt invitation upstairs," Emily says, smiling at her as she gets off the sofa and buzzes the courier up. "You mind if I stick around while you eat?"

"No! Please— please stay," she says, hating the desperation that bleeds into her voice.

"Okay, I'll stay, of course I will," Emily promises, rushing to soothe her again as she hears the agitation and distress in Penelope's voice. "I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

Penelope nods gratefully. "You can even have some of my eggrolls," she says, managing a little smile as she references the well-known fact that Emily despises eggrolls and makes such a big, dramatic deal out of it every time any of them order Chinese.

Emily laughs, her head tipping back a little. "You're so generous."

She opens the door for the delivery man and takes the bag from him, before bringing it over to the coffee table and laying it out in front of Penelope.

"You should eat up, sweetie," she says in that kind, concerned way of hers as she comes to sit next to her on the sofa, "I'm sure that crying took it out of you, hm?"

Penelope nods tiredly and tucks into her dinner as Emily flicks through the TV channels before settling on a rerun of Will & Grace. They sit in comfortable silence for a little while as the familiar sound of a 90s laugh-track sitcom fills the room and Penelope eats her dinner.

"You need another hug?" Emily asks once she's finished her food and is inching closer on the sofa, and Penelope might be delusional but she swears she sees an inkling of hope on her face, so she doesn't hesitate in nodding.

Emily beams and pulls her closer, arranging them until they're lying horizontally on the sofa, comfortably tangled up in one another, idly watching the TV while they enjoy the comfort of one another's company.

"Pen?" Emily whispers, after a good couple of episodes; after most of the tealights Penelope had lit earlier have burned themselves out. "You know I love you right?"

There's something in her voice that makes Penelope feel brave. "Yeah," she whispers back, burying even closer into her side. "I love you, too, Emily. More than you know."

The last four words are uttered with a weight the fragile air in the room can't hold, and they crash back down between them, making Emily shift to look at her properly. Her face is a myriad of earnest emotions, and Penelope can't look away.

"When I say I love you," Emily says, nerves and anticipation and hope in the whisper of her voice, "I mean it. I don't— I don't love you like a friend, Penelope. I love you more than that."

Penelope stares at her, her heart pounding in her chest as she looks at the woman lying next to her, anxious, hopeful features illuminated by soft candlelight.

"I love you more than that, too."

Emily's nervous features smooth into something warm and eager and happy. "You do?"

Penelope nods, and she's sure her face holds a similar expression. "I do."

"Can I kiss you?" Emily whispers, lifting her hand to rest in Penelope's blond, tangled hair.

"Please," she whispers back, and not a second later she's being kissed like she's never been kissed before; like the ocean's dried up and she's the last gulp of water to be found; like all the world's oxygen's disappeared, and she's the only gasp of fresh air left behind. She's kissed like she is Penelope Garcia and that is enough for Emily Prentiss, she's kissed like she doesn't need anything else but to exist in this moment, right here, right now.

She doesn't want it to end, but when it does, when they've pulled away and their faces are inches apart and they're breathing heavily, when she looks into Emily's eyes and sees everything she's always wanted to find in them, she's glad it did, because the first kiss ending means that they can do it again.

Yes, I'm gonna keep writing that Penelope is very invested in Danish culture okay, it's my fav headcanon, leave me alone. I hope you liked this one! <3

taglist: @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @hotchseyebrows @temily @enbyspencer @criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @reidology @spencerspecifics @hotchedyke @marsjareau @oliverbrnch @physics-magic @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @reidreids @sapphic-stress @wifeyprentiss @cmily @notevanbuckley (add yourself to my taglist here!)

#my writing #penemily #penelope garcia #emily prentiss #criminal minds #cm #penemily fic #penemily fanfic #penemily fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #penemily fluff #sad penelope garcia #hurt penelope garcia

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isthisthingeven0n · 4 years

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those magic changes : j.w

brief summary: based on the song ‘those magic changes’

word count: 1.1k requested: yes by a lovely anon - i hope you like it! warnings: kinda angsty, but fluffy

* I just wanna say my requests are closed for a while! I know you guys wanna send ideas in, but can you hold off for a week or so if that’s okay - just so I can catch up :) *

* masterlistin’ / masterlistin’ 2.0

italics/bold are past tense events

“Stupid thing,” Todd mumbles as Jeff finishes setting up for the newest episode for his channel to be filmed whilst David shifts in the barber's chair, knowing this moment has been long-awaited by everyone.

“What’re you doing over there?” David speaks up, peering over to see Todd reveal an old radio. “Why don’t you just use your phone?” He chuckles, but Todd shakes his head.

“I got this from back home, it’s what my Dad used to use.” Todd states as he fiddles around with it, eventually turning the dials as static fades out into music.

Jeff pauses as the song begins to play, one he recognises from the first few strings of the guitar. It was a song that’ll mean more to him than most things in life because that song is the reason he met you.

He was sitting at one of the many tables in the large hall. Everyone around him had left to go for a dance, make the most of the open bar as the Bride and Groom continued to steal the show.

The invite was something that had been sitting on his kitchen counter for months, that little box about bringing a plus one still unticked. Secretly, Jeff hoped he would’ve had a plus one. He thought at the time the wedding was months away, how could he not have a girlfriend by then?

Yet, it happened. Jeff is alone at a wedding full of people in love. Young love ranging to old, and he hates it.

“Seems like I’m not the only one then,” Jeff lifts his head up to see you stood beside him, pulling a chair out and taking the vacant spot. “sorry, please tell me you’re here alone right and I’m not intruding?” You ramble, panic evident as you widen your eyes.

“My girlfriend is just over there,” Jeff motions and you shuffle backwards. “she’s the one in the white dress,” He chuckles, watching as you roll your eyes. “I’m Jeff,”

You look down to see Jeff holding his hand out and you smile. “Y/n.”

“Well, Y/n, you wanna dance?” Jeff suggests, flashing a smile at you as you pick up the bottle of wine from the middle of the table and pour yourself a glass.

“What have I got to lose?” You question before downing the wine and rising to your feet.

Jeff moves to rest his hand around your waist, holding you up as you make it to the dance floor and sway in his embrace. “This isn’t so bad.” He mutters, raising an eyebrow to you as your head rests against his chest.

“This is a better result than I anticipated.” You mumble to him, lifting your head up and grinning like a child. “You’re cute, Jeff.” The alcohol in your system begins to fade your filter, allowing you to be honest. “How’re you single?”

“Ex-Con probably has something to do with it.” He jokes and listens as you laugh lightly, unaware that it wasn’t a joke. “Guess I was just waiting to find a girl to dance with at a wedding.”

“Shame the Brides taken then,” You retort back, glancing over to see your childhood best friend in the arms of her husband, tears glistening in the eyes of those watching.

“Yeah,” Jeff whispers as you look back at him, “a real shame.”

Whilst Jeff remains lost in his memories, David motions to Todd to turn the song off.

The song fades out, and Jeff snaps out of his daydream. “Sorry, dude.” Todd mutters, moving the radio out of view as Jeff shakes his head.

“It’s chill, Todd.” He lies, forcing a small smile. “Just a song.”

But everyone knows it means more than that, how the moment you walked out of the front door he was devasted to lose you. “How’s she doing?” David questions, knowing Jeff still keeps in touch with you now and then.

Shuffling to pick up a comb and a pair of scissors, distracting himself. “She’s doing good, last I heard she’s in New Zealand.” Without me.

David nods, “That’s cool,” He comments, unsure what else to say. “when is she coming back?”

“I don’t know,” Jeff answers, sadness etching his tone. “she erm, she never confirmed when she’d be home.”

Despite the song having left his ears, it repeats in his mind. The moment he fell in love with you as you danced in his apartment at 2am in a drunk state.

“Nerf, come on boy!” You giggle as you pick him up, swaying him in your arms as Jeff turns around to see the sight, laughter filling the room.

“So I’m that easy to replace, huh?” Jeff rests his hands on his hips as you roll your eyes before putting Nerf back on the ground as you move closer to Jeff. He wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you closer.

Your breath smells of whiskey and toothpaste, but the odd combination is inviting.

“I could never replace you, Jeff.” You admit to him and he watches as you bite your lower lip, hesitant to say the words that have been desperate to be said aloud.

“I love you.” He whispers, beating you to it as you look up.

Before you can respond, Jeff leans in and kisses you, not wanting this moment to end.

But moments do end, and people change.

He knew you weren’t going to be easy to tie down, and when it came to a chance to travel the world and document it all how could you say no? You promised you’d come home, that you would pick things up where you left them. But that was almost seven months ago. A lot can change in seven months.

Everyone can tell he’s been missing you. He’s been lonesome since you said goodbye and he turned up at David’s quieter than usual. For once, he wasn’t interested in going out, he just wanted to sit in the company of others.

It felt that your song was following him, taunting him wherever he went. At one point, he had memorised every beat of the song, the bass guitar strumming and the gentle drum as it shifts from right to left. But above all else, he could hear his heartbreaking with each lyric as he’ll never forget you humming along, resting against him during your first dance.

He’ll never forget your bright smile, the love you gave and the generous, thoughtful soul you were.

One day you’ll come home, and one day you’ll both hear your song again. And then maybe, just maybe, the world might hear it too.

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skiesoftwilight · 5 years

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Forever Star-Crossed (Jason Todd)

This was a pain in the ass to write! but like a good, challenging pain in the ass lmao. I’ve had this request in my inbox and I believe it was like the second or first one and I’m now just putting it out??? (Anon, I’m sorry.) I had such a straightforward plot, but I guess I struggle with too many specifics?? I don’t know. Also, I didn’t realize it until I was almost done with it, but the plot is kind of like the Great Gatsby, but my writing can do no justice to that amazing story. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy! Especially the Anon who requested it, if you’re still out there lol :)

Requested by: Anon

hey I love your writing! I saw requests were open and I was wondering if you could write something where jay is best friends with a girl and he’s secretly in love with her but she’s dating Hal (the green lantern protege? I’m not 100% sure thats his name?) and he stops by her window one day only to see her baking cookies and dancing around in the kitchen with Hal listening to painkiller by ruel and being a cute couple and its just him being all angsty

Word Count: 6432

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The soft clicking of your heels against the pavement rang throughout the dark and desolate city streets of Gotham. The few people that had dared to come out at this time of night were watching you carefully, sizing you up to see what kind of threat you posed if any. You ignored their mysterious gazes and continued on with your phone conversation.

“What’s the plan for dinner?” You asked. A yawn crept up on you and escaped from between your lips. “I just got off work and I’m starving.”

“I don’t know. I just home myself,” A deep sigh fell from his mouth on the other end, “Do you want me to come get you? I’m still dressed, I don’t—”

“I’ll be just fine walking,” A soft laugh fell from your lips as your watchful gaze surveyed the area around you, “I swear you forget who you’re dealing with from time to time.”

A deep chuckle sounded from the other line, “You’re right. Sorry. I guess I’ll be seeing you soon then?”

“Yeah, give me about fifteen minutes,” Your lips curled at the edges, “Maybe when I get home, we can—”

A hand had clamped down on your shoulder from behind and jerked you backward, making you stumble. A gasp fell from your lips and your eyes grew wide as you watched a lonesome thug tug on the strap of your purse, yanking it from your shoulder ripping it from your grasp. The minute he pulled your purse free, he took off down the street, making a hard right into an alley.

“(Y/N)? Hey, what happened?” His voice rose with worry laced into his tone, “(Y/N)!”

“I’m still here,” A shaky breath left your lips as you stood up straight. Your gaze hardened as you leaned down to tighten the straps on your heels. “A damn thug just stole my purse…I’ll have to call you back; I’ll be home a little later than expected.”

Before he could speak another word, you ended the call and ran after the thug. All you could focus on was finding the thief and getting your purse back; it was a gift from your father after all.

Coming upon the alley that the thug had turned down, you stopped yourself and took a deep breath before marched right down the dimly lit path. Your eyes narrowed, watching every shadow move as you walked. Your fists were clenched and your whole body tense; you were ready for a fight.

The sound of rats scurrying across the street pulled your attention towards a flickering light above a dumpster. You caught sight of a body laying on top of the trash bags, not moving. Slowly approaching the body, you realized it was the thug that had just attacked you moments ago; your purse was nowhere near his body and it drew in your curiosity.

Leaning down beside the body, you hesitantly reached for his hand, checking for a pulse. Worry started to build up in your chest when you couldn’t find his pulse. Your hand crept up to his neck, but just before you could touch his skin, a voice stopped you.

“He’s not dead.”

You jumped up from the ground and turned to see where the voice had come from; yet, all you could see was darkness. You spun around in a full circle, your fists still clenched and your hardened gaze staring into pure darkness.

“One punch and he was out.” The voice spoke again, this time a little louder. “I swear these criminals used to be tough and now? Well, they’re just growing soft.”

“I didn’t need your help,” You stated, looking in the direction where you last heard the voice, “I had it perfectly under control.”

“Was letting him get a head start a part of you keeping it under control?” The voice teased.

“Show yourself,” You demanded, your voice harsh.

The person stepped out of the shadows, slowly making his way to stand a few feet away from you. Wearing a leather jacket, black pants, combat boots, and holding your purse wasn’t what disturbed you but the red helmet masking his face and the red modified bat symbol on his chest that shown every time his leather jacket shifted.

“Red Hood.” You stated, your hardened gaze never leaving his masked one.

“You know me?” He questioned, raising his hand to cover his chest, “I’m flattered. I guess word still travels fast in this city of rats.”

“Word gets around, but through a different circle,” You corrected him, “Who are you underneath that helmet? I don’t like strange, masked, crusaders in this city, there’s already too many of them running around.”

“A friend from long ago…” His voice lowered, a hint of sadness is what you believed you heard.

“You’re not any friend of mine,” You responded. Your hands stayed clenched at your sides. He lowered his head and rested a hand on his hip, showing off the pistol on his side, “You better start talking or this won’t end well for you.”

A deep laugh fell from his lips, “You’re still like I last remember you…acting all tough when you’re really a big softie…” He looked down at your purse and tossed it back and forth between his hands, “I’m surprised you still have this. I’m guessing you’re still buddy-buddy with him, aren’t you?”

“What?” Confusion crept on your face as you believed he was referring to Bruce.

He tossed the purse at you, watching you catch it in your hands. Confusion and irritation were clear on your face as you watched him reach behind his helmet and start to pull it off. Your eyes grew wide and your whole body felt weak as you saw a face that you thought you would never see again.

“J-J,” You stuttered, struggling to let his name leave your lips for the first time in so many years, “Jason?”

“In the flesh.”

“N-No,” You shook your head, stumbling backward, “I-It can’t be, you’re dead...I was there for your funeral…I saw you laying in that casket…”

“I was, but some crazy things happened that I can’t explain and I don’t know why, but I’m back.”

“You’re not supposed to be here! I’m losing my mind…” You shouted, your hands pushing your disheveled hair out of your face.

He saw the terrified expression on your face, the blank look in your eyes…it pained him to see you like this. “Hey, I know just seeing me is a lot to take in—”

“I—I just got…I—I can’t do this right now…I got to go.”

“(Y/N), wait.”

Ignoring his pleas for you to stay, you ran out of the alley, not even sparing a glance behind you in fear that your past would be following you. Coming up to the steps of your apartment complex, you flung the door open and slammed it shut, pressing your back firmly against it.

Running a shaky hand through your hair, you took a deep breath and began to make your way up to your apartment door, trying to push the night’s events deep down and towards the back of your mind.

Standing in front of your apartment door, you unclipped your house keys from your purse and unlocked the door and quickly stepped inside, locking it behind you. Resting your head against the wooden door, you shut your eyes and groaned.

“Hey,” His mirthful voice pulled you from your mind, causing you to turn to look at him, “I can see you got your purse back,” His smile faded the moment he saw a glint of sadness in your eyes, “Is there something wrong? Did something happen?”

You shook your head as you set the purse down on the counter, “No, uh, just a stressful day at work and you know, that thug stealing my purse. I’m fine.”

He made his way over to you, wrapping you in his warm embrace, “Iif you want to talk about it, we can?”

Shaking your head, you looked up at him, “I rather not.”

He hummed in response, placing a kiss on the crown of your head. “About dinner, I was thinking we could go out to that new joint down the street?”

“No,” You quickly answered, moving away from his embrace, “Let’s just stay inside and order something? I’m too tired to deal with anyone else’s BS right now.”

“Alright, that’s fine with me.” He smiled and walked over to the kitchen to grab some of the take-out brochures you two saved from other lazy nights in.

While he was calling out places that you might want, you half-heartedly answered as you rummaged through your purse, looking for your phone to text Bruce and see if you were going crazy or not. As your fingers sifted through the old grocery receipts and empty gum wrappers, you felt a rough piece of paper touch your fingertips. Pulling it out from your purse, you saw that there was a number scribbled on it and a single name in under the last digits: Jay.

An audible groan mixed with a cry left your lips as you crumpled the paper up and tossed it back in your purse. Moving to join him the kitchen to look at the food menus, he made you laugh and did his best to pull you out of your sudden sadness. You physically lightened up, but on the inside, you were dying to know what the hell you just witnessed.

Sitting in a coffee shop, you pulled the crumpled paper from your purse and laid it on the table. The sloppily-written name awoken a wide range of feelings and emotions that you thought you could never feel again and it scared you. Your shaky hands reached for the paper, gently smoothing out the wrinkles before grabbing your phone and slowly putting each number into the dial-pad.

Resting your elbows on the table and letting a hand cover your mouth while the other held the suddenly heavy phone next to your ear, you listened to it ring. You counted them out, one…two…three…four…after the fourth ring, you were about to hang up before you heard the line pick up and his voice come through on the other side.

“Hello?”

You froze, not knowing what to say. Staring at the name on the paper in front of you, you slowly opened your mouth to speak, your voice barely audible, “Hey…”

“(Y/N)?” Jason’s tone was soft and soothing which reminded you of the old times. “Hey, I was wondering when you would call…”

“A-Are you busy? Right now?” You asked, your whole body slowly relaxing as you fiddled with the paper.

“No, not really,” He spoke, shuffling around on his end of the line, “Is there something wrong?”

“Can we t-talk?” You inquired. Your gaze bounced back and forth from the paper to the window you were situated by, trying to distract your nerves before they overwhelmed you.

“Sure,” Jason responded. You could just picture the smile on his face at your request, “Just send me your location and I’ll be there.”

Mumbling a brief goodbye, you hung up the phone and sent him the address. You tried to mentally prepare yourself for the upcoming conversation, prepping questions that you’ve been thinking about ever since you saw him: How long had he been resurrected? Where was he? Why did he come back to Gotham of all places after all this time? You had so many questions, you just hoped that you could actually ask them if you don’t get overwhelmed.

While deep in your thoughts, you heard the door chime behind you. Turning to look at who it could be, your breath got caught in your throat and your eyes grew wide once again. You saw him stepping inside, looking around until his gaze met yours; his gaze felt so heavy, you turned away, waiting for him to approach you.

“Hey there…”

His voice was soft, yet it sounded more mature than when you last heard it years ago. Without looking up at him, you gestured for him to take a seat. Listening to your weak commands, he sat in the chair and quietly fiddled with the sugar packets on the table.

“Thank you for coming,” You mumbled, trying to get yourself to relax in his presence and gain the courage to look at him at least once, “I didn’t know if you were busy or not, but I made the call because…I want answers. I’m sure you want some too.”

Nodding his head, “No problem, all of my work is carried out in the night but even then I got nothing going on, so don’t ever be afraid to call me at any time.”

“Noted.” The single word fell from your lips, but nothing else came after.

The conversation fell into a tense silence before it hardly began. Jason continued to fiddle with the sugar packets while you gently stirred your coffee. The two of you opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. His mere presence was bugging you; you were dying to ask your first question, you just didn’t know how to phrase it.

Your mind was screaming at you to look at him, just once, but you were struggling to let your gaze wander any higher than his lips. From what you could see, his face had not changed much, other than having short, thin scars from blades. Daring to let your eyes wander higher, your curious gaze met with his and you froze, not sure if you should look away or let his intense blue eyes see right through you. Your gaze was held in his and you could’ve sworn you saw a spark in his.

“How were you…resurrected?” You blurted out, your eyes grew wide as you surveyed the other tables around you, making sure no one was trying to listen in.

A deep sigh fell from his lips, “That’s a complicated story, but I’ll shorten it. I mysteriously woke up in my coffin and crawled to the surface where, Talia, Bruce’s little flame, took me in and tossed me in that Lazarus pit next to Ra’s. She helped me get a grip on my new life…I met new allies, traveled a lot, learned new skills.”

“You just crawled out of your grave?” You whisper-shouted, shielding your mouth from other people; your childish side kicking in as you pictured Jason all muddy, springing from his grave, “Like a zombie?”

He chuckled, “Yeah, like a zombie.”

“All that stuff you learned, I’m guessing that’s what created Red Hood?” You asked, connecting pieces of his story together.

“You got it.” Jason confirmed your suspicions, “I think I learned more than Bruce, but don’t tell him that.”

“Red Hood…” You paused, thinking about all the things you heard from the briefings from Bruce and the others, “I’ve heard you killed people before? Is it true?”

Jason looked up at you, his voice turning serious, “I don’t kill anyone who doesn’t deserve it, just know that. I’m not a savage, I just take crime-fighting another step further, a step Bruce is too scared to take.”

“Does Bruce even know that you’re back?” You asked, sipping your coffee, “I’m sure he would be delighted to see you, in the flesh, after all these years…”

“He knows. He was the first person I encountered upon stepping one foot in this city.” He answered, rolling his eyes at the mention of his former mentor, “I’ve met the rest of the brood too. They’ve got personalities, but they don’t stray far from B’s, that’s for sure.”

“Wait, you know of the others?” You asked, furrowing your brow, “How long have you been back in the city?”

“I’ve only been here for a couple of weeks,” He reassured you, placing his palms on the table, “I wasn’t even supposed to stay this long, let alone be back here. I was only coming to tie up some loose ends on a job I was working, but things got…complicated…”

“What the hell, Jason?” You eyes narrowed, “You didn’t think to at least try and see me sooner? I was thinking that it was only in my dreams that I would see you, my dearest friend, alive again, but it turns out you’ve been alive for quite some time.”

“I told you, things got complicated…” He restated, giving you a sullen look. Hearing his name and friend being used in the same sentence by you hurt him, but he was more upset at the fact that you were upset at him for not coming to you sooner.

“Well, what was the complication?” You inquired, crossing your arms to look him in the eyes. You wanted answers, and you were going to get them.

“I can’t tell you that right now. You wouldn’t understand it.” He muttered, barely audible to your ears. There was a sad look in his eyes, but before you could comment on it, it was replaced with a glint of happiness and curiosity, “Enough talking about me, I want to know more about you and what you’ve been up to.”

A small smile crept onto your lips, “My story isn’t nearly as interesting as yours.”

“That’s okay,” He reassured you, his goofy smile appearing, “I just wanna know more about you.”

Mumbling some words, you let out a sigh, “I don’t live at the manor anymore; I left the day after I turned eighteen. Dick let me stay with him for a while, but I didn’t stay long and left. I struggled for a while without Bruce’s help, but I managed,” You smiled, thinking about all your accomplishments, “I got myself a normal job, normal friends…In a way, I kinda got a second chance at life.”

“You seem to be doing pretty well all on your own; I’m happy for you,” He smiled, yet he leaned in closer to you, his gaze surveying the other people around you before continuing, “Are you still running around in the dark?”

“Oh no,” You shook your head, “Bruce offered me the mantle a couple years after your “departure”, but I turned it down; I turned down any type of caped crusader gigs that a bunch of people offered me, but I didn’t leave that life behind completely. I’m still deeply involved in those affairs; I actually work with someone who’s a member of the League.”

Jason’s attention was peaked when he heard the word “partner” leave your lips, “Oh really? Who is it? Barry? Clark?—You were always his favorite—Diana? Arthur? Hal?”

A small laugh left your lips as you watched his calm expression turn to a more exciting one. “No, no, none of those guys; it’s someone who has a lesser role in all of it, but still important nonetheless. I just can’t tell you: League rules.” You shrugged your shoulders.

Jason nodded, letting a light chuckle slip from between his lips, “I see. You can keep your secrets.”

Silence filled the air. After finally warming up to one another, you two felt like you had said what you needed to say during this meeting. While you were comfortable with the silence, sipping on your coffee and watching the people walk past the window, Jason fiddled with his fingers, deciding if he should bring up a last minute thought.

“Hey, uh, this might sound like a stupid question after all these years, but…” he paused, looking at your hands placed on the table and slowly let his gaze come to meet your intrigued gaze, “Do you still consider us friends? Even after all these years?”

Your brow furrowed and your fingers tapped on the edges of the table, “I don’t see why not, but things between us have changed, Jason. We aren’t wards under Bruce anymore, we’ve both grown and matured and became two individual people,” You sighed, “We built complex, yet somewhat stable lives and if you’re looking to go back to the past…well, we just can’t.”

“The only thing I want to bring back from my past is you,” He confessed, the sad glint in his eye returning for just a split second, “I missed you the most out of everything else from my first life and I would love for you to be in my second one as well.”

Your soft smile appeared at his kind words, making his grow. “I’d be happy to try to pick up where we left off, Jason, but…” Jason froze, “If things don’t work out the way we hoped, well, then we can’t force it, okay? Maybe we can’t be best friends, but we can maybe settle for just the simple title of friends, yeah?”

Your use of his name and friend in the same sentence killed him, but he didn’t show it; instead, his goofy grin grew and he held out his hand for you to shake, “I can live with that.”

With smiles both gracing your grown faces, you reached for his extended hand, but before you could graze your fingertips against his, your phone buzzed on the table, the screen lighting up to alert you that he was calling; Jason’s gaze darted to the phone and took note of the caller ID: My Artist.

“I’m sorry, I have to take this.” You apologized before standing up from the table and walking outside the shop to have your conversation.

He watched you stand outside, walking back and forth, talking with a never faltering smile on your lips; his heart jumped when he could’ve sworn he saw and heard your muffled laugh. The smile on Jason’s own lips was reduced to the slight curling at the corners as he saw that your happiness was coming from someone other than him.

When your call had ended, you dismissed yourself from yours and Jason’s conversation to handle some League affairs, but you reassured him that you two would spend more time together soon. With a verbal goodbye and a slightly awkward handshake initiated on your part, you both parted ways.

“And that’s the last time Dick let me borrow his car.” You laughed, snatching up the nearly empty beer bottle off the coffee table to down the last drops. Slamming the bottle back down on the table and leaning against the couch from your spot on the floor, shrugging your shoulders and raising your hands, “I barely hit anything and the stuff I did hit? The dents on his car weren’t even that bad…”

“You took out a parking meter and somehow pinned a hotdog cart with the passenger side on his car,” Jason struggled to keep his laugh in check, but failed miserably, letting his head fall back onto the armrest of his sofa, undoubtedly picturing you standing by the car, mortified, explaining to Dick how it happened, “I think the dents were pretty bad. That whole story is an example as to why Bruce never let you drive the Batmobile.”

“He never let you either! Come to think of it, he never even taught you.” You countered, throwing a finger in his direction.

“Touché.”

Your melodious laughter was music to Jason’s ears. He watched you double over, wiping the stray tears of happiness from the creases of your eyes as you stood up to fetch yourself another beer from the kitchen. Jason listened to your side comments about the story, but all he could do was chuckle at a memory he wished he shared with you.

These types of moments between you and Jason had been going on for the last couple of weeks, non-stop. You would call him up after work every day and you two would hang out at the coffee shop or at his apartment to reminisce about the old times between you two or the stories you had from living at the manor and watching each new Robin come into their own identities.

“Got any stories from your travels that you would like to share?” You asked while setting a beer on the table in front of him. “I’m still thinking of some other ones…”

“Nah, I like your stories better,” He admitted, sitting up once again to look at you laying on the floor, a goofy smile taking over your usual composed one, “What I’m learning from you and your stories is that you haven’t lost your spark.”

“Aw, thanks Jay,” Your cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink, “Someone had to lighten up that dark place besides Alfred.”

“What other stories you got?” Jason asked.

“Well, let me see… oh, well there was this one time Damian jumped out the third story window…”

Jason zoned out, his thoughts consuming him in the moment. His eyes took in every little detail that you shown as you were telling your story. The bright, goofy smile on your face, the way your hands illustrated the whole scene, how expressive your eyes got, and that little laugh you made before your initial one filled the room. Seeing you like this made him think on his next actions.

“That does sound like a funny story…” Jason blandly added. Setting his beer on the table, he rested his elbows on his knees and looked at you on the floor, sipping your beer. “Hey, I had something to tell you that I’ve had on my mind for quite some time actually…”

“Lay it on me.” You sent your smile his way.

“Uh, well, the night before I—”

He was interrupted by the muffled buzzing of your phone inside your purse. You sprang up from your spot on the floor and grabbed your purse from the couch and brought it to the coffee table. Your hands rummaged through your cluttered purse, looking for your phone but you couldn’t even see a single part of it.

“Goddamnit, I have to clean this thing out.” You groaned, turning your purse upside down and shaking all of its contents out until your buzzing phone bounced off the table and onto the floor. Dropping your purse and snatching up your phone, you answered it and walked into the kitchen, leaving a confused Jason sitting on the couch picking up all your belongings and setting them beside your purse.

He came across a folded paper and curiosity came over him. Looking over his shoulder to see if you were still in the kitchen he proceeded to open the paper to reveal a decent drawing of your face. The illustration was slightly cartoonish, but it still captured your beauty nonetheless; Jason could’ve sworn he seen this type of style somewhere before, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Looking at the corner of the paper, the initials K.R. was scribbled along with an illegible note.

“What are you doing?” Jason jumped in his seat, but didn’t hide the picture, “Are snooping?”

Looking at the drawing in his hands and then at you, he sheepishly smiled, “Yeah…Who drew this for you? It’s pretty neat.”

“My friend, he’s pretty good alright. I believe he’s got a gig for doing illustrations or something like that.” You informed Jason, snatching the photo from his hands and tossing back into your purse with the rest of your belongings. “Why were you so curious?”

“I’ve seen that style before, but I don’t remember where…”

“I hate thoughts like that…anyways, sorry for the phone call, I’m always being pulled in some direction, aren’t I?” You chuckled, taking a seat beside him on the couch, “You were saying something before the phone call?”

Jason opened his mouth, but no words came out. All his mind could do was bring up that picture and fill his thoughts with negative ones. Looking at you, he smiled softly, “You know what? Don’t even worry about it. It wasn’t that important.”

You double checked with him, but he reassured you it could wait. After sitting in silence for a few moments, you changed the subject, “I was looking at my phone and I didn’t realize how late it was getting; you know, we’ve been talking here for the past six hours? That’s crazy.”

“That is.” Jason nodded his head in agreement, “If it’s getting late, I can drive you home? I got no problem doing it; I would like to know that you’re not out there with those criminals.”

A cheap laugh fell from your lips, “Oh, what is it with people forgetting who I was?” You turned to Jason as you stood up from the couch, “I’ll be fine. Actually, I—”

As if on cue, the muffled sound of a car horn interrupted your sentence. A goofy smile broke out on your lips as your head dropped before lifting up to look at Jason’s confusion expression.

“…have a ride,” You soft giggles turned into a deep sigh as you picked up your purse, “Sorry.”

Jason’s smile faltered, but he played it off as if he was going to drink his beer. Standing up beside you, he looked down at you, taking in how your smile continued to stay on your relaxed face while you looked up at him.

“Well, I had lots of fun with you tonight, really,” Jason confessed, “It was nice to catch up on so many things, hopefully, we can do it again sometime soon?”

“Definitely!” You nearly shouted, “Next time, maybe we could do my place? I can cook us up something?” You suggested, looking deep into his eyes for his approval.

“I’d like that,” The horn sounded again, making him turn his attention to the window before your hand on his arm pulled his attention back towards you, “Don’t keep your ride waiting. Goodnight, (Y/N).”

“Goodnight, Jason.” You spoke softly. Moving in closer, you stood on your toes and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek, patted his chest a few times before dashing out his apartment and down to your ride.

Jason’s smile grew from the sudden affection you gave him. It gave him hope that maybe you didn’t feel the same way about him as he did for you. After seeing that picture and knowing of your friend, he knew that things were heating up between you two and he wanted to beat the other to the punch.

Don’t beat around the bush. Tell her who you feel.

Standing stock-still in the elevator, Jason’s nervous blue eyes stared at the bouquet of flowers in his hand, making sure that each delicate flower looked presentable. The sweet smell the flowers gave off relaxed him; the loud thoughts in his mind were feeding his anxiety and making his heartbeat so fast that he was sure he felt it hit his ribcage a couple of times.

The elevator beeped and the large, metal doors slowly opened to the floor your apartment was on. With a heavy sigh escaping from between his lips, he began to walk down the corridor, looking at the numbers on the door, trying to match it with the one that was scribbled on the sticky note in his hand.

When he finally came face to face with your door, he froze. He stood there for a few moments, wondering if he should just turn around and leave or stay and see if his dreams come true. Adjusting his leather jacket and rotating the flowers to their best side, he knocked on the door lightly, waiting for you to come to the door.

He heard shuffling and the sound of your voice on the other side of the door. The muffled music was turned down and the sound of footsteps coming close to the door made him nervous. Quickly shaking his whole body to get rid of the nerves, he put on his best smile, but when the door opened, his grin fell from his lips and was replaced by a look of pure confusion.

“Kyle?”

“Jason?” Kyle greeted him with a similar look of confusion.

The two stared at each other for a few moments, trying to figure out why the other was standing before them. Silence would’ve consumed the both of them had you not called out to Kyle from behind the cracked door.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Jason…” Kyle answered, turning his head to look at you with a kind, yet confused smile.

“What are you doing?” You questioned him, walking towards the door to pull it all the way open; looking at Jason with a delighted smile, you said, “Come on in, Jason.”

Jason’s mouth was slightly agape. He stared at the both of you, trying to figure out what the hell Kyle Raynor, a member of the Green Lanterns, was doing with you, but then it finally clicked in his head: The name in your phone, the drawing in your purse, your partnership with someone in the Justice League…Kyle was your…no… Jason didn’t even want to think of the word to describe your relationship with Kyle. Hesitantly stepping into your apartment, Jason just stood there, not knowing what else to do.

“I wasn’t expecting you to come over tonight,” You stated, looking at his shy state, “I was just finishing up dinner; there should be enough to go around, I’m sure.”

Jason slowly nodded, his gaze drifting from you to Kyle who sat at a desk in the corner of the room, undoubtedly drawing something. “I’m sorry, I just thought to stop by to see how you were doing since we didn’t talk for a couple of days…”

“I see you brought me flowers?” You inquired, looking at the vibrant bouquet in his slightly clenched hands. You took them from him and set them in the sink to properly take care of them. “Oh where are my manners? I didn’t introduce you to Kyle.”

“You don’t need to,” Jason mumbled, looking at you with a soft smile, “We know each other.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, we were involved with some heavy business a couple months back,” Jason informed you, his gaze becoming sharper the longer he stared at the man doodling in the corner. “What’s he doing here? Is he your partner in the League?”

A sheepish laugh came from your throat, “Uh, yeah. Kyle and I are partners…he’s actually my boyfriend…”

Jason died on the inside.

“We’ve been keeping a low profile about it, that’s why I didn’t say anything about it to you…” You told him, “You can’t tell anyone though, especially not Bruce; you know how he is with snooping in other people’s business…”

Jason stood there, his nerves taking control, “Uh, yeah, your secret is safe with me…and speaking of Bruce, he wanted to talk to me, it was something urgent. He’s probably gonna rip into me about being late like old times, but I can take it.”

Your smile slightly fell, “Are you sure you can’t stay? Bruce has three other people to go to.” You stood in front of him, your hand resting on your hip. You knew he wasn’t going to budge, but you wanted to at least try, “I promise not to keep you long.”

“It’s a personal matter, don’t worry, we’ll hang out again.” Jason’s lips formed a tight line as he looked over at Kyle once more before finally letting himself accept his defeat. “At least I know you’re okay…”

“It was good to see you, Jason,” You told him, stepping closer. You placed your hand on his arm and felt him tense up at your touch. Wrapping your arms around him, you gave him a firm squeeze and leaned up to give him a light kiss on his cheek, “You be good, or at least try to be. Tell Bruce I said hi.”

Jason smiled, nodding at your words, but paying them no mind. Your hug felt different to him; it felt colder than before, it didn’t bring him as much happiness as it used to and the kiss on the cheek didn’t show a sign of hope but a sign of friendly boundaries that he believed he could never cross.

Mumbling a half-hearted goodbye to Kyle, Jason left with his heart and dreams shattered. He did everything in his power to not turn around and storm back up those steps and still tell you how he felt, but he realized that it would’ve been childish of him to do so; it would be something his past self would do. So he carried on, jumping into his car and driving far from your place, trying to put distance between himself and his tainted dream.

It took a few days and nights for Jason to fully process what his relationship between you and him would become. He was thankful that you were at least happy in your life; he was heartbroken that he couldn’t be the source of your happiness though. He was almost wishing that he was selfish enough to rob you of your happiness in favor of his, but his love for you was stronger than his desire to be happy.

Sitting on the rooftop across from your apartment complex with a clear view into your apartment, he sat on the edge, fumbling with his gloved fingers as he watched you and Kyle move about inside. His gaze saw you dancing around the kitchen, flour covering your clothing and skin in various patches while Kyle sat on top of the table, eating what you were baking. Music was blaring inside the place, but it was muffled to Jason on the outside.

Jason’s fists gripped the edge of the room in slight anger and pain. He watched Kyle hop off the table and slowly make his way to stand behind you, placing his hands on your hips while you continued on with baking. That smile on your face killed Jason. Kyle craned his head around your shoulder to take in your messy look before giving you a peck on your lips. Jason could hear your little laugh all the way by him, just ringing in his ears. He saw you spin around and begin to pull Kyle’s lips towards your own and the minute your lips connected, Jason turned away, his heart aching.

With a heavy sigh, Jason stood up and dusted his pants off, turned away from your apartment. He began to walk away, telling himself that he knew he never should’ve come back to Gotham. There was nothing left for him except for a painful past. Seeing you kiss Kyle…he felt like he just died for a second time. He regretted ever coming back for you.

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agustdef · 5 years

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Here & Now - Chapter 19

Pairing: Yoongi x OC

Genre: Fluff; Chill romance

Word Count: 2,057

Warning: None.

Banner Marker: @dee-ehn

The tension in Bang’s office made me feel so uncomfortable I couldn’t sit still. Joon had to squeeze my shoulder a few times to try to get me to calm it down, but my nerves weren’t letting up.

I hadn’t gotten the chance to make a choice if I wanted to work there, but that might be snatched away from me. It was so frustrating that I’d possibly be punished for something that wasn’t even my fault. And that it could affect the boys when nothing had happened.

Nothing that had been documented held any weight. Not one thing screamed dating in secret. It barely showed that we were friends at all; just that we spoke when in proximity to others. But of course the select few wannabe FBI agents wanted to stir bullshit.

The longer that Bang stayed on the phone with a blank expression, the more uneasy I felt. He hadn’t seemed mad at me in particular, he was actually quite reassuring that he would handle it. But it still would be smart to avoid this stuff and just revoke the offer.

When Bang put down the phone and closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Once they were open again he glanced around the room, looking at Joon, Yoongi and then me. Though he’d maintained the blank look at first his expression softened once it met my face.

“We have it handled. They posted it on their side account, but then reposted it on their personal account where their name and high school are very present. It didn’t take much time to find them and legal will handle it from there. Also working on the more aggressive attackers and then legal will get to them too.”

He said it so nonchalantly that I felt confused about what the heck was happening. Which must have been clear on my face.

“Kendall, I offered you a job because even with the first incident you kept up the good work and didn’t just abandon your job. You did it with the second one too. You are not the problem, they are. And it’s just a few people stirring the pot and causing mass hysteria for a few hours. It will not harm anything. Even if you two were secretly dating they have nothing, but it doesn’t make this acceptable. I will not tolerate attacks on them or you for false or true statements.”

His words were reassuring and sweet. I could feel the tension leave my body, it slumping a little as the anxiety I was starting to feel started to dissipate.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s being taken care of.” This time a smile graced his face, then he turned to Joon. “Make sure everyone knows what’s going on and just relax. Today and tomorrow are your off days, so don’t worry too much about it.”

Joon nodded and then turned to leave. Yoongi pressed a hand to my lower back and guided me out of the room. None of us spoke until we were in the practice room where everyone had convened.

They’d been whispering amongst themselves when we entered but stopped the moment we came in. They all wore expressions of worry, eyes flickering between all of us, but lingering on me and Yoongi.

Joon cleared his throat and gained all their attention. “The person who took the pictures of Kendall here has been found and legal is handling it. They’re also going for all the people have been extra hostile towards her. So, we don’t have anything to worry about and I’m sure a statement will be released later today.”

There was a group sigh of relief and I watched as Hobi and Jungkook slumped heavily. They looked like they’d been carrying a heavy burdened.

“You two okay?” I asked.

They didn’t respond at first, just stared at each other for a moment. Then Jungkook turned to me. “We were just worried Bang might take back the offer and try to get us to interact less.”

“Dude, same.”

Even though I was relieved before something about hearing others with the same fear helped along the disappearing anxiety. I released a frustrated scream to just get it out and none of them seemed fazed.

“Maybe we should decompress. Spend the night in and watch movies like when Hals came to visit last week and her, Kendall and Hobi were all stressed and on the verge of exploding,” Jimin offered.

The night had been helpful for decompressing, otherwise, I might have literally combusted. A work thing somehow messed up and I had to work from scratch with two days. Plus I had major writer’s block, but a short story due on the same day.

I nodded. “Sure, we can do it at mine. Just give me like an hour or two.”

There were murmurs of agreement and then we all packed up and headed out. Before I could get into the car to take me home though Yoongi pulled me to the side.

“You're okay, right? Don’t need me to come with you?” Yoongi asked.

He was still clearly angry and stressed about everything, which I hated. I tried to be reassuring, squeezing his hand and giving the best smile I could muster.

“I’m fine. Going to clean, get in comfy clothes and draft something to be posted once the statement is out. All is good. Promise.”

He grimaced and seemed hesitant, but after a second nodded and release my hand. “Okay, we’ll be over in an hour and a half. We’ll get the food and snacks, so don’t worry about it.”

A thumbs up from me and then I was headed home. My apartment was a distance from theirs just to avoid nonsense, but not so far that it was very out of the way. When I got inside I did exactly what I said I would. Cleaned the living room and kitchen. I pulled the large bean bag chair closer to the couches and then got comfy. Some sweats and a SHINee tour shirt I’d gotten forever ago.

By the time all that was done and I’d finished parting and braiding my hair an hour had passed. So with that time I’d settled in my seat and pulled out my phone. I checked Twitter and saw accounts Soompi had already posted about the statement being out, which was perfect.

I read the statement through and was pleased with it. Flattered even by the protectiveness of it. Of course, they’d protect the boys, but they’d made it a point to not attack me and were mostly coming for those who’d sent direct threats and hate my way.

With that out of the way I took a deep breath and began typing out my message; a few sentences in I switched to the notes app.

I’ve tried to be as calm as possible about all this drama, but it’s starting to get hard. To constantly have people grasp at straws to form some “scandal” that doesn’t even exist is tiresome. For the third time, a group of people have created this romantic relationship that Yoongi and I don’t have. They called me names, attacked my appearance, my race, and my work. All because they’ve deluded themselves into thinking he and I are together. Because they’re deluded themselves into thinking they have some hold on people who are human and adults who are free to live their lives.

In truth, I’m not even that bothered it all, but I’ll be damned if I allow this shit to keep going unchecked. To get to a point where it messes up my friendships and my job opportunities. But thankfully I don’t have to do the checking. I’m very thankful to Bang PDnim for his support on this. He didn’t have to deal with those directly attacking only me, but he did.

I don’t want to have to go through this again, because I will not be as pleasant the next time around.

Once finished and checked for spelling errors I took screenshots and quote tweeted the statement from the official BigHit Twitter page. Once that was done I muted Twitter and sat my phone on the coffee table.

Before I got the chance to relax through my doorbell was ringing. Sighing, I hopped to my feet and went to the panel. The video showed Yoongi by his lonesome, which threw me off, but I let him in nonetheless and returned to the couch.

A few seconds later he was in the living room ad staring at me intently. It made me very uneasy.

“We need to talk,” he said.

My heart stopped and I felt nausea stirring. Being scared, nervous or sad always made me physically sick and those words in the situation we were in hit my nerves bad.

Yoongi must have seen the shift in me because his expression softened and he shook his head.

“Not like that. Nothing bad, I promise. But you know, we should talk. We should have talked a while ago.”

He wasn't wrong and though he assured me that things were fine, I still felt nervous. Though at least it wasn’t nervous because I thought he and/or all of the boys wanted to end our friendship.

I motioned for him to take a seat and he did, turning to face me head-on. The intensity that he had before returned, but without the dauntingness of it all. Though when he says nothing and we sit in silence for what feels like five minutes I become a tad more unnerved.

“Were you ever going to tell me that you returned my feelings?” Was what he eventually opened with and was not what I expected him to say first.

My face dropped and my eyes narrowed on him. “How can one say they return feelings they don’t know the other has.”

He scoffed. “You knew.”

I couldn’t stop the eye roll that came. “One can assume, but until it’s stated cannot know. So, unless you said ‘Hey Kendall, I like you’ and meant it in a romantic way I couldn’t know anything.”

“Hey Kendall, I like you. And not in a platonic way, I want to date you,” he blurted out.

Even though he’d basically confirmed it without saying so I still froze in surprise. And then an intense bout of happiness washed through me. I tried to push down the smile that was taking form, but I couldn’t and could feel the slight tingle from smiling too hard.

Yoongi was smiling too, his possibly wider than mine.

“So…” he trailed off, watching me closely.

Took a second for me to realize he was waiting for me to respond to him. “Oh goodness, same. Wait, no. Not same. Still wrong. Wait. Okay. I would also like you in the sense that I would date you.”

By the time I’d finally gotten it out he was laughing at me being a mess and I couldn’t help but join in. Then he stopped and was leaning closer to me. His hand cupped my cheek and my gaze flickered to his lips for a moment before meeting his eyes. They held such gentleness that it made me even more giddy to kiss him, but when his lips were barely touching mines I pulled back.

My brain wouldn't allow me to experience the happiness though. I had a new fear, one that was quite ridiculous and I regretted saying aloud. It needed to be addressed though because it would surely be something we had no other choice but to deal with.

“But wait, they just made a statement that we weren’t. What if this time they actually get something tangible and things spiral even more. I can handle most of their bullshit, but this could get worse and it would be worse for you than for me; especially here. I know Bang can only take so much of all of this.”

“Well…” he paused and I could tell he didn’t have the answer either.

Before we could recover to discuss the doorbell rang again and I knew I couldn’t leave the boys in the hallway, someone could see them and possibly get photos to start another round of nonsense.

So, I got off the couch and spent the rest of the night engaged, but distracted and confused.

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god--baby · 6 years

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chasing after dreams ch 2 (nsfw)

poly bowers gang x ambiguously gendered reader

part one

previously on: you’re secretly in love with all the boys in your gang. with graduation quickly approaching, you cause some trouble. also, getting high, flirting with a teacher, jerking off, making a bet, and waiting tables.

summary: you graduate high school, and run into that hot teacher in walmart. then, you go to a party and find someone to fuck. you sleep over with Belch. also noxious punch, vic’s a little bit gay, the resident whore, and lettuce.

word count: 4026

tag list: @heckstetter @bowersbeloved @surahbow @cordysblog @purplezebra68 @frostwolfie2936 @not-uh-author @paulslefttesticle @sarah-bow-beara @daddyyourembarassingme @marsieparsie @tonguepopperr @daddywise-issues @bisexualbitchbabe

On Monday, you graduated. After everything was done, you ran to Belch. He swept you up a hug, and you laughed, loud and long.

You were free. Finally, you could do what you wanted with your life.

After you did the cursory hello, yes, isn’t it great, with your parents, they let you go with the boys.

You took off your gown and hat, stuffing them in the trunk of the Trans Am.

“What should we do today?” asked Belch.

“Who fucking cares?” asked Henry.

You could tell he was silently hurting.

Butch hadn’t made the effort to come, working a shift of pulling over speeding drivers instead.

“I care,” said Vic. “This is our first day as free people. Should we go to the quarry?”

“Fuck no,” said Patrick. “It’ll be full of kids.”

The way he said kids told you all you needed to know.

“So, what then?” you asked, leaning up against him. “If you say no to an idea, you gotta have something better.”

“Walmart,” he said. “Let’s see if we can get kicked out.”

Nothing you’d done so far had gotten the staff to give you the boot, but fuck, if you weren’t going to try.

So you went, wandering around, being loud and causing a ruckus.

In the produce section, Vic gently shoved your shoulder.

“Look,” he said. “It’s your boyfriend.”

Confused, you followed his gaze. Inspecting a head of lettuce was Mr. Cleaver. You grinned.

“Bye, boys. I got business to attend to,” you said, leaving them behind with a swish of your hips.

“Hi, there,” you said, arriving at Mr. Cleaver’s side.

“Oh,” he said, caught off guard. “Hello.”

“Guess what?” you said, giving him your signature smile.

“What?”

“I’m not your student anymore.”

“Mm. Congratulations on graduating.”

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about,” you said, taking a step closer to him. He didn’t move away, but he didn’t lean in. He was being so, so careful.

“I know.”

“Mr. C,” you started, intending on telling him exactly what you wanted.

“John,” he said, voice quiet.

“Hm?”

“My name. It’s John.”

He finally made eye contact with you. What you found surprised you. He looked lonesome.

“John,” you said gently. “John. What are you up to today? A beer or two after a long school year?” Then you paused, correcting yourself. “Oh, no. No. You look like a whiskey man.”

“As a matter of fact, I am,” he said.

“Good thing I like a man who can hold his liquor,” you said.

He laughed, eyes crinkling.

It reminded you of Belch, and you angrily shoved that thought away.

“You talk like you have so much experience,” he said.

“Come on, John. You know my reputation precedes me,” you said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

He tensed under the touch, looking out behind you.

You looked over your shoulder, and Henry, grinning, gave the both of you a little wave.

“What is this?” Mr. Cleaver asked. “Is this some kind of joke?”

“Oh, no,” you said, lying your ass off. You’d sooner die than tell him about the bet. “Even I’m not so cruel.”

“Then what is it?”

“Call it… curiosity. Call it me harboring a crush and wanting to see it through.”

“Curious about what?” he asked.

You sent a pointed look to the front of his pants before looking back to his eyes, one eyebrow up.

“I think you know exactly what I’m curious about. John.”

He leaned in.

“There are some things kids shouldn’t play with, no matter what their reputation is.”

“I’m going to a party tonight,” you said, changing the subject. “Mind if I find some boy who looks just like you and practice a little?”

He blushed. He actually blushed. You grinned.

“You can do what you want,” he said. “I’ll have nothing to do with it.”

“Oh, but you will,” you said, holding out your hand. The one where his ring still rested on your thumb.

He looked at it, and back to you. You couldn’t read his expression.

“Don’t deny it,” you said. “You like having a bit of yourself on me.”

He licked his lips, and you smiled.

“Whether I like it or not is no concern of yours,” he said.

“Oh, but it is. I bet you love it. I bet you’re wondering what it would be like for you to be all over me.”

“I have to go,” he said quickly.

“Mm. Think of me?”

“Against my will, I probably will,” he said.

You took a chance, backing away from him and blowing him a kiss. He raised his eyebrows at you as you rejoined the group, walking away, your boots heavy on the tile, carrying you away.

“I know a word for you,” said Belch.

“Hm?”

“Incorrigible.”

Vic laughed, grabbing his side.

“Jesus, Belch. What’s up with you and all the big words?”

“I’m not stupid,” Belch snapped. “But you are, doing this.”

The last remark was directed at you.

“Belch,” you said gently. “It’s fine. I’ll fuck him once and forget him. Just like everyone else.”

“One day,” he said, his voice halting. “One day you’ll understand that your actions have consequences.”

You took his hand, squeezing it for a bare moment.

“I’ll be okay,” you said.

“I know you will. But other people aren’t toys for you to play with.”

You pulled back, shocked.

“Other people are toys to you,” you said. “What about that string of girls you’ve fucked and forgotten? What about the kids you wail on just because you’re bored?”

“That’s different,” he said.

“No,” you said. “No, it’s not.”

That night, the guys picked you up, all heading for a party one of the football guys was throwing. You were in combat boots and your skinniest fuck-me jeans. You even had a little bit of eyeliner smudged on your lids. You were going for sex on a stick, and you were pretty sure you’d accomplished your goal.

“Damn, sweetheart,” said Patrick, finally getting a good look at you once you’d all gotten out of the car and were standing in the lawn, getting ready to give them hell. “Do a little turn, let me see your ass.”

You grinned.

“No,” you said.

“Aw, c’mon. I know you’re gonna find someone to fuck, I wanna know what you’re walking in there with.”

You patted your pockets, making sure your cigarettes and Bic were where they were supposed to be.

“Then watch it as it walks away,” you said, leading them into the party.

When you got in, and people saw you were there, a few people cheered, raised their plastic cups of booze to you.

It wasn’t a party without you and the boys.

You spotted Gretta Bowie in the kitchen. She looked at you, then past you, at Patrick. She wasn’t nearly as slick as she obviously wanted to be. You could tell exactly what she was looking for. What she wanted: to be on top of him, in some dark corner, moaning like a little bitch.

You gave her a predatory grin, getting yourself a drink. Something strong. Some of the punch, whatever was in it. It smelled like vodka, and you figured that was good. You didn’t trust anything you couldn’t taste the alcohol in.

Then, you waved goodbye to the guys as you left, going out to the back porch. Smokers and stoners congregated, a thin cloud of smoke over everyone.

You were looking for something. Someone. Anyone would do — anyone to take your mind off your boys. Anyone to replace Mr. Cleaver, the dick you wanted, the dick you’d have, but not now.

You wondered what he was doing. Alone, in an apartment, or maybe a house. Sitting in an armchair or up in bed. Probably just in his boxers, nursing a few fingers of whiskey.

You wondered if he’d jerk off thinking about you. Would it be fast, stripping his dick, thinking about you on top of him, or would it be nice and slow, just wondering? Just thinking. Just hoping.

“Hey, there,” said a voice you hadn’t heard before.

You turned, surveying the boy in front of you.

Not bad. Shaggy dark hair and blue eyes. He looked a bit like Patrick, when you squinted.

He had almost the same predatory smirk, too. It put knots in your stomach, that halfway dark smile.

“Well, hey,” you said. “You’re cute.”

That smile just got bigger.

“I can say the same thing for you,” he said.

“So, what’s your name?” you asked.

“Blaine,” he said. “I’m Blaine.”

“Well,” you said. “Nice to meet you. I’m —”

“Oh, I know who you are,” he said.

You furrowed your brows, confused. You’d never even seen this boy before. You doubted he was even from your school.

“You’re the one who runs with Henry Bowers and his crew. I’ve heard of you.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ve heard… well, a lot, actually.”

You put one hand on his shoulder, pulling him closer to you.

“How much have you heard?” you asked, voice soft.

“Enough for me to want to see what the fuss is about. I think I get it, now.”

“Oh, I can show you more,” you said, pulling him even closer and slipping one of his legs between yours.

“That’s what I was counting on,” he said. “Can I get you a drink?”

You held up the cup in your hand, chugging what was left, then held it out for him.

“Sure,” you said. “I’m having the punch.”

He grinned.

“I’ll be back,” he said. “Don’t go anywhere.”

While he was gone, Vic found you.

“You already find your piece of ass for the night?” he asked.

“You fucking know it,” you said, lighting up a cigarette.

He took it from you, taking a drag, and you fought the thought that that’s where your mouth had been, only moments before.

Your life seemed to be full of things that could be kisses, could be embraces, could be affection, if just… just moved a little bit. Adjusted.

“What’s their name?” he asked, careful not to leave anyone out. God knew you didn’t.

“Blaine. Kid from another school. And my reputation reached him long before he found me.”

“Yes, it did,” said Blaine, standing just behind you.

You turned to see him looking Vic over, a little jealous.

“Blaine,” you said. “This is Vic. My friend. Part of my crew.”

“Mm,” said Blaine. “A friend.”

“Trust me,” said Vic. “Nothing’s happening here. Just checking in.”

And then he walked away, passing your cigarette back. Blaine put his arm around you, and you smiled up at him, giving him the attention he obviously so desperately wanted.

“Got you a refill,” he said, holding out your cup.

“Thanks, sugar,” you said.

You took it and swallowed down several gulps of the sickly sweet and deadly strong concoction. He took your cigarette and took a drag, holding it between his forefinger and thumb, the way Henry smoked.

You forced Henry from your mind.

You finished your cup, and he took you by the hand, pulling you into the house. The music was blaring, something popular and kinda shitty, but it had a decent bassline. So, you pulled him into the living room and grinded on him.

In the corner behind Blaine’s back, Henry and Belch sat talking. Henry looked at you, then looked at Blaine. You slid your legs around one of Blaine’s, grinding down on him to the beat of the song, looking away from Henry.

Blaine curled one hand around your throat, forcing your face up to look at him. Then he kissed you, hard, biting your lip before soothing it with his tongue. His hand stayed tight around your throat.

You moaned for him, putting on a little show. You pulled back, licking your lips.

“Wanna take this somewhere more private?” you asked.

He smiled.

“I guess,” he said. “Much as I’d love you to blow me with everyone watching. Let’s find somewhere.”

You took him by the hand, leading him around the house, searching for somewhere to fuck. You ended up upstairs. He tested one door, and finding it unlocked, he opened it. You both got an eyeful of Patrick fucking Gretta at a brutal pace and closed the door again.

Your cheeks were burning. You hoped Blaine wouldn’t notice, but he did.

“What, you jealous he got that ass?”

“Fuck no,” you spat. “I wouldn’t touch her pussy with a ten-foot pole.”

“Ah,” he said, testing another door. It was locked. He turned to the bathroom, blissfully empty with no one standing around waiting on it. “C’mon.”

He pushed you into the bathroom, closing the door behind you, and locking it for good measure. Then he pulled you into another hard kiss, forcing his tongue into your mouth. You moaned again, hands going to his hair, gently pulling.

“I know what it is,” he said.

“Huh?”

“You’re jealous of her.”

“What?” you asked sharply.

“You’re jealous that he’s fucking her, not you.”

“Fuck you, Blaine,” you said, pulling him in for another kiss, hands going to his pants, undoing them and pushing inside, stroking over his clothed cock.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” he said, pushing you to your knees. “Tell me I’m fucking wrong.”

“You’re wrong,” you said.

He slapped you lightly on the cheek as you were pulling his pants and underwear down.

“Don’t lie to me. You want him to fuck you.”

“So what?” you spat.

“So pretend, if that’s what you want so bad. Wanna call me Patrick?”

You glowered at him, slowly stroking his cock in one hand.

“No,” you lied.

“Don’t lie to me. You want that.”

“So I call you Patrick. You gonna get off on me wanting someone else?”

“I get off on being what people want me to be,” he said, grinning down at you. “You want me to be Patrick, close your eyes and think of him.”

Dubious, you did it. You closed your eyes and imagined that it was Patrick’s cock in your hand, then in your mouth, pushing past your gag reflex. You imagined it was Patrick’s hand in your hair, pulling you on and off of him.

“Slut,” Blaine said.

Patrick said.

You moaned around his cock, and you could imagine Patrick’s grin, that shark faced thing he had when he was getting what he wanted.

“Get up,” he said. “I’m gonna fuck you.”

You stood, keeping your eyes halfway shut. Like this, he really looked like him. Tall, lanky, dark. Dangerously handsome.

He put his hands on your waist and pushed you up against the counter, reaching around you to undo your pants and push them down to your knees. You faced the mirror, but you couldn’t see his face at this angle, as you bent over and he reached down to slide a few fingers over your hole.

“Look at you,” he said, slipping two fingers inside. “So tight for me.”

You swallowed hard. Then, you got brave.

“Patrick,” you whined.

“That’s it, baby.”

He rolled on a condom and pushed into you, a slow slide like he had all the time in the world. His hands were bruising on your hips, pulling you back on him. You went with little moans and grunts.

“Fuck, Patrick,” you said quietly.

You desperately didn’t want anyone to hear.

“You’re my good little slut, aren’t you?” he hissed in your ear.

You flushed.

“Yeah,” you said. “I’m — fuck, Patrick, I’m your slut.”

“Just mine, aren’t you, baby,” he asked, licking a stripe up the side of your neck.

You nodded, frantic, one of your hands furiously stroking yourself.

He picked up the pace, eventually pounding into you, one hand wrapped around your throat. You could breathe, but only barely, and you let out strangled little moans and whines as he slammed into you again and again.

He came with a groan, pulling you back on him, and then pulled out, turning you around and kneeling at your feet, putting his mouth on you.

You moaned and threw your head back, one hand in his hair as he made you come, and come hard.

Then, he stood. He took the condom off and threw it away and quietly put himself back together. You did the same, cheeks burning, your back turned to him.

You washed your hands, and he wrapped his arms around your middle, resting his chin on one of your shoulders.

“You’re a damn decent fuck,” he said.

You laughed, shoving unruly thoughts of Patrick out of your mind.

“I’m the best fuck you’ve ever had and you know it,” you said.

“Nah, the best fuck I ever had was last year. Fucking mind-blowing. But you? A close second.”

You dried your hands and turned in his arms.

“You really don’t mind?” you asked, looking at his chest instead of his face.

“If I minded, I wouldn’t have let you,” he said gently. “Listen, he’s hot. I kinda want to be him just as bad as you want to fuck him.”

You leaned up and kissed him in gratitude. That sly smile he had returned.

“You know,” you said. “You’re really not much like him at all.”

“From what I hear,” he said, “that’s a good thing. C’mon, let’s rejoin the world.”

You opened the door to find Gretta Bowie standing waiting for the bathroom.

“Jesus, that’s what took so long,” she bitched.

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, cheeks burning again.

You left the bathroom only to immediately run into Patrick, who was zipping up his pants and giving a wolfish smile to the back of Gretta’s retreating head.

“Who’s your bitch?” he asked, nodding at Blaine.

“This is Blaine,” you said, one hand still in his. “Blaine, Patrick.”

“Something you wanna tell me, sweetheart?” Patrick asked.

“We fucked? But you could tell, I know you could.”

“Uh huh. No offense, Blaine, but you look a lot like me.”

Blaine laughed. “I don’t see it,” he said.

Bless him.

“Mm. C’mon, I wanna smoke. You still got yours, or you trade it for dick?” Patrick said to you.

“Patrick.”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“I never pay for dick.”

“I’m not talking about money, I’m talking about a barter system,” he said as you headed downstairs, Blaine pulling up the rear.

You got outside and managed to get chairs. You sat, then put your feet in Patrick’s lap. If you didn’t, he’d be able to tell that something was up. You had to keep being as handsy as he was, or he’d smell a rat.

Blaine sat next to you, lighting up one of his menthols. He was about to throw an arm around your shoulders but caught a hard look from Patrick and thought better of it.

“So, how long have you guys known each other?” Blaine asked, gesturing to the knot that was you and Patrick.

The two of you looked at each other.

“Ten years?” you asked.

“Thirteen,” he said.

“Yeah, right. Thirteen. Since kindergarten.”

“Jesus,” Blaine said. “How the fuck did you stay friends for so long?”

“Nothing better to do,” you joked.

“Everyone else is boring,” Patrick said.

That was the truth. You were utterly bored by just about everyone outside of your group, but Patrick held a special place in your heart. You could still remember the first time he drew a picture and handed it to you, in your first-grade class in the middle of Art. It was all black and brown squiggles, and for some reason, you knew you should be afraid.

But you weren’t. You were stupid that way.

Stupid, or just hard headed. You were determined to be his friend, and you were. He wasn’t friendly, barely even acted like he liked you, but you stuck by him, and now here you were, the fruits of your labor evidenced by his arm now around your shoulders.

The rest of the guys had come later. In middle school. All three of them at the same time — Belch glued to Henry’s side, Vic glued to Belch’s. They thought you were a twerp and Patrick was a creep, but when they tried to wail on the both of you, they discovered that in a fight, you two were unstoppable.

There’s something to be said for a boy who gets his ass beat and turns around and says, “Fuck you. Do you wanna eat lunch with us?”

That was Henry. Always the wordsmith.

“Jesus,” Blaine said quietly. He put his cigarette butt on the ground and crushed it under his foot before he stood. “Well, kids. It was fun. I’m leaving, though.”

You stood, pulling him in for another kiss.

He whispered in your ear.

“If you ever want to pretend again, look me up.”

You smiled at him and watched him go.

“What’d that fag say?” Patrick asked.

“Patrick,” you said. “You fuck guys and girls. Don’t you think that word applies to you?”

He grinned, pulling you onto his lap.

“Whatever.”

You managed to get someone to bring you another cup of that punch and worked your way from merely tipsy to slightly sloshed. You didn’t want to get any farther than that, though, and you asked Patrick — before downing yet another cup of punch — to make sure you didn’t drink any more.

Patrick was good for that sort of thing. He didn’t want to deal with you getting sick, so when you reached for another drink, he handed you a bottle of water.

You sat with him, smoking, watching through the glass doors as people danced and grinded on each other. Vic was in the mix, some cute boy you were pretty sure was a junior right in front of him, ass to crotch.

“You think he’s gonna get that ass?” Patrick asked, clearly not caring much either way.

“Nah,” you said. “If he was, he would’ve already.”

“Fair,” Patrick said, lighting up another cigarette.

When Henry decided he was done, you all left, talking in twos and threes about the party, who’d been fucking around with who in what dark corner, who’d been puking in the bushes.

“Our resident whore got some ass,” Vic said, clapping a hand on your shoulder in the back seat as you pulled away from the party.

You took a bow.

“Guy named Blaine,” Patrick said. He said his name with a certain amount of artful disdain.

“Good for you, getting legal dick,” said Belch.

“Cleaver is perfectly legal,” you said, knowing exactly what he was thinking about.

“He shouldn’t be,” he shot back, pulling up to Vic’s house.

Vic climbed out of the back seat, waving goodbye as he walked to the door.

“I don’t want to go home,” you said.

“Poor baby,” Patrick said, pulling you in with one arm around your shoulder. You put his head on your shoulder, closing your eyes for a bare moment.

“I mean it,” you said. “Can I stay with one of you guys?”

“Fuck, not me,” said Henry.

You already knew it wasn’t an option.

Didn’t mean you would leave him out, though.

“Patrick?” you asked.

“Not tonight, sweetheart,” he said.

“Belch?”

He thought about it.

“Fine,” he said. “But only ‘cause Mama’s working tonight.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

He had the biggest bed, anyway. He was the best option.

After he dropped off first Patrick and then Henry, you drove the long way back to the center of town, to Belch’s neighborhood. You dozed in the front seat until he put on the e-brake and you woke up, eyes wide.

“Fuck,” you said. “I bet I’ll have a fucking hangover.”

“Not if you’re smart,” he said.

You both got out of the car and let yourselves into his house, winding your way through it in the dark.

In his bathroom, he gave you a cup of water and two ibuprofens. You took them, grateful, and went to his room, taking off your shoes before crawling into bed.

He got into bed after you, down to his boxers and shirt. You laid in bed, facing each other, saying nothing.

You fell asleep like that.

#poly bowers gang #henry bowers x reader #vic criss x reader #belch huggins x reader #patrick hockstetter x reader #mine

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