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bffsoobin · 3 years

Text

This Time Around

➤ idol!yeonjun x non!idol/ex!girlfriend reader ft. same reader x jungkook (mostly platonic), fluff, angst, lots of messy feelings, other txt members make appearances/are mentioned

↳ weeks after your chance reconnection with Yeonjun, you book a flight to Seoul under his encouragement. When you arrive, you’re not only overwhelmed by the lifestyle of an idol, but the new people you meet. Will you and Yeonjun be able to hold on to each other this time around?

word count: 9k

requested?: yes! (thank you for this great idea, anon)

warnings: this is largely angst. crying, arguments, swearing, feelings of betrayal and confusion, Yeonjun is kind of an ass, self-doubt (in both Yeonjun and reader), messy feelings and relationships all around, this does NOT have a happy ending so don’t go in expecting one lmao also disclaimer (?) that I a) have no idea what the BH building looks like inside b) don’t think that either Yeonjun or Jungkook would act this way...we are here to write fiction, after all.

A/N: This is a sequel to Just One Day! I won’t be making too many explicit references to the content of that fic but reading it first will help with storyline clarity! I also don’t explicitly state this but the reader in this case already knows Korean, she just has never been to the country before- it was simply easier for storytelling. I really hope y’all like this. I was very inspired by this request especially since I was in the mood to write both angst and a sequel to one of my older pieces! (also this gave me a good excuse to write about koo without feeling bad for straying from TXT content lmao) ALSO this is not proof read or edited, as usual for me :)

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“I think it’s a good idea,” Yeonjun’s voice, velvety and heavy with sleep, seeps through the speakers of your phone. You glance at the time displayed on your computer and do the mental math which proves it’s a crisp 2 am in Korea.

“Go to bed, Junnie,” you half-scold, knowing that you wish for nothing more than for him to stay on the line until he eventually falls asleep in the middle of the conversation. He sighs through the phone, and you imagine him stretching his arms above his head to eliminate the fatigue creeping through him.

“Not till you promise me you’ll come,” he counters smartly. Your stomach flips wildly at the words. It had been almost three months since you spent the day with him, and not a single day had passed where he hadn’t been on your mind. Whether you spent your time talking to him or indulging yourself in your newfound kpop guilty pleasures, Yeonjun was almost always on your mind. Staying in touch proved to be harder than expected, due to both time zones and your equally packed schedules. Since he had flown back to Korea, you’d begun your first big girl job in a serious office that required constant business attire and piled the paperwork onto you, the newest and youngest hire.

“I’d love to, but you know how it is at work. I think my boss would combust if I told him I was taking a week’s vacation.” Talking about work made your head swim, as you recalled the stack of paperwork currently residing on your bedroom desk that needed to be finished before you showed up on Monday.

“That’s exactly why you deserve a vacation, Y/N. Look, if you fly into Seoul I promise I’ll make sure you don’t think about work for a second. I know you have time to take off, so take it. Come see me.” The line was quiet for a few seconds as you pondered, weighing your options carefully.

“I miss you,” Yeonjun’s voice came through loud and clear, crumbling the last remaining bit of your resolve. You missed him too, so much more than you ever thought you would, and your heartbeat kicks into high gear at the thought of seeing him again.

“Okay, I’ll file for my week off on Monday. I’ll see you soon, Yeonjun.”

----

When you finally arrive inside of the BigHit building, suitcase in tow and a huge visitor lanyard around your neck, your hands are sweating profusely. A kind staff member had picked you up from the airport and delivered you to the practice room that Yeonjun would presumably be inside of. The walls were soundproofed well, but you could hear the faint beat of bass through the heavy door as you hesitate in pushing it open. Another staff member passes behind you and eyes you closely until recognizing the badge hanging around your neck.

Feeling awkward for hesitating in the hallway after being seen, you push on the door until it swings open in a smooth motion. The wheels of your suitcase click over the seams of the floor, and the sound would have been enough to make you cringe if it weren’t for the pounding music.

A track you don’t recognize echos through the mirrored room as none other than Choi Yeonjun stares intently back at his own dancing reflection. You catch your own reflection; arms crossed in a protective latch over your chest.

His body moves fluidly, as if he had left all of his bones waiting for him at home, and a thrill of excited anxiety crawls through your chest. He was really there, mere feet away, and you were really here in the middle of the BigHit building, achieving the dreams of fans all over the world.

The music stops and your mouth runs dry. Yeonjun’s heaving breath is the only sound in the mirrored room and you try to drive away the thought of the last time you’d heard him pant like that; sweaty and shirtless overtop of you on your rickety secondhand couch.

“You made it.” He says, impressively able to control his voice even after the exertion.

“In one piece, at least.” You say. Your arms stay wound around your body, a protective cage against his stare and his touch. He eyes you carefully and you’re suddenly concerned that your airport-chic appearance is inadequate.

“You look pretty.” He whispers, stepping close enough that his heaving chest almost touches your crossed arms. His hands, fingers calloused and rough, wind around your wrists and tug gently, giving you plenty of time to pull back. But you let him unwind your arms and pull them to your sides. His hands are large and warm and press gently into your skin, grounding you into the room and the moment and the absurdity of the fact that you’re actually here with him in Korea.

“You bleached your hair.” You offer weakly, withering underneath his attention.

“I’m not supposed to tell, but I’m getting ready for pink.” He says. Sweat drips down his temples, meeting and rolling together in tracks down to his chin. He looks just as handsome as you remember him to be months before, but it’s hard to ignore the thinned frame of his face.

“Have you been taking care of yourself?” You ask, finally finding courage to string together a meaningful sentence.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Yeonjun leans into you, supporting himself on the tips of his toes until he’s dangerously close to toppling you both over. He levels a heavy, constant gaze on you, eyes drifting down to the surprised pout of your lips and sliding back to your eyes. In a second you know that he wants to kiss you, and there is nothing more you’d like than for that to happen, so you close your eyes and lean into him; feel the warmth of his breath and you can almost taste the salt of his sweat, but the kiss never comes. Instead, Yeonjun startles and drops his hands from you, takes one huge step back and immediately bends into a deep bow.

Your back is still facing the door, but you catch a glimpse through the mirror. Jeon Jungkook stands just inside the door, dark wavy hair tied half up in a messy bun, some loose strands framing his face. He’s wearing a t-shirt and loose sweats and rubbing fatigue from his eyes, but he’s somehow even more handsome in person. Your face flushes, desperately trying not to make eye contact with him through the mirror and knowing you failed as soon as he shoots you a small, toothy smile.

“Didn’t know you had company,” He says in lieu of a greeting as he steps just slightly closer to the two of you.

“We were just going.” Yeonjun bows again, grabs your wrist and tugs you in a persuasive manner.

“It’s okay, really.” Jungkook enthuses, eyes crinkling in apparent amusement at Yeonjun’s behavior and before you know it your face twists into a similar smile. It had been a long time since you’d seen Yeonjun so nervous, acting like he was attached to a live wire that kept him moving nonstop. “No need to rush out on my account.” Jungkook adds as Yeonjun tugs you again, leaving your suitcase abandoned in the spot you’d been standing. You open your mouth to protest.

“Wait! I don’t think that...” Jungkook looks at you pointedly as he rolls the suitcase back over to the two of you.

“Y/N.” You offer, hands sweating profusely as he passes over the luggage.

“I don’t think that Y/N would like to leave without her suitcase.” His eyes twinkle with something like an untold joke, an anecdote he wants to share but keeps in the back of his head for later. You thank him shortly, still starstruck and nervous as Yeonjun pulls you out of the door.

----

“I’m so sorry about that.” Yeonjun apologizes again as you arrive at a new door, this one in a whole new wing of the building that you would have gotten lost finding on your own.

“It’s okay, Jun. I expect to run into...o-other people.” You stutter as he opens the door, facing the realization that you were probably about to meet Yeonjun’s members too. The dorm was simpler than you expected, opening up to a lightly furnished living room that looked like it had been hastily cleaned- you could see a stack of clothes had been clumsily shoved behind the couch.

The lack of instant greetings surprises you as you follow Yeonjun blindly into the room but you don’t say anything. You kind of wish that the other four boys would come bursting out, bombard you with questions and jokes and prodding fingers as Yeonjun lets you into his room. The air is still charged from your interrupted kiss, and your fingers curl around the handle of your suitcase as you recall Jungkook’s reaction. He had clearly found it amusing, but was he more interested in teasing Yeonjun or finding out exactly who you were?

In the moment you had found his attention comical although stressful, like a funny anecdote that Yeonjun might grumble about a few weeks later. Now, you replay it over and over again, worried that every chance interaction with another idol within the building would play out exactly the same. Maybe you weren’t quite cut out for this. Yeonjun had been speaking the whole time, rattling off words you don’t catch as he opens and closes drawers.

“-is that alright?” He asks, spinning on his socked heels to face you. You freeze, trying desperately to claw through your mind for any clues to what he’d said. Yeonjun smirks, closes in on you and raises a well-kept eyebrow.

“What did I just ask you?” He asks, voice level and cool despite the teasing nature of the question.

“I-I don’t know.” You admit, a blush rises on your cheeks as his smirk pulls even larger.

“I asked...” he tucks a stray hair behind your ear, “if you wanted to share a bed. You could always sleep on the couch, but I-”

“No, I’ll sleep with you!” You slap a hand over your mouth as Yeonjun dissolves into giggles. “I mean, I mean, I don’t mind sharing a bed.” You try desperately to break through his laughter but it’s useless, so you succumb to the same fit of giggles. Yeonjun cups your cheeks sweetly, squishing them together in earnest before leaning in the same way he had just minutes prior. Your heart stutters at the knowledge that this kiss was finally happening after three months separated.

Your lips meet in soft, tentative passes against each other until you recall the feeling. Yeonjun is hesitant, hanging back until you surge forward, kissing him harder and wiggling your tongue between the seam of his lips until he opens them. His teeth rake your bottom lip and nibble hard enough to draw blood, the metallic taste grounding you into the moment until Yeonjun pulls back, thumbs stroking the tops of your cheeks. He places another kiss to your nose, giggling against your skin as you shy away.

A loud crash sounds from just outside the door and you jump, eyes blowing wide when the sound of overlapping voices grows closer and closer. Yeonjun tells you that the rest of the boys must be back and ushers you out of the room before you can protest.

In the living room you’re faced with the four of them, all busying themselves with mundane tasks or scrolling through their phones until Yeonjun clears his throat. They look up simultaneously, synchronized enough that you would have laughed under a different circumstance.

“Everyone, this is, my uh, uh, Y/N.” Yeonjun awkwardly sweeps a hand your way and you flush, feeling small as the four boys you’d watched and laughed with and admired through a screen bowed to you.

“I really-it’s not...well, hi.” You sigh.

----

Introductions aside, the night slides by easily until the wear of your travel catches up with you so suddenly that you slump onto the nearest body. Yeonjun shakes you awake and it’s only then that you notice the shoulder you were leaning upon belonged to Beomgyu. You apologize to the boy as soon as you can get your tongue to work properly and are soon whisked away to Yeonjun’s bedroom. The short trip awoke you to an unpleasant degree, almost feeling as if you were suddenly too aware of your surroundings. The lights were too bright, the scent of fabric softener too strong in your nose, the sound of the remaining four people in the living room too loud. And of course, the presence of Yeonjun too much to handle.

You sit at the foot of the bed and pick at your nails while Yeonjun shuffles around the room, doing something you don’t bother to track closely.

“Are you going to get ready for bed?” He asks shortly, not even turning to face you. You now realize that he had pulled on pajamas of his own; a too-big graphic t-shirt and a pair of worn sweatpants. Frowning, you head for your own suitcase and dig through the carefully stacked clothes until you find some suitable options. You change quickly, keeping your back to him although you can feel his heavy stare at your back.

“Did you like them?” He asks. You sit back at the metal headboard and nod thoughtfully. His lips draw into a straight line as he settles beside you. “You and Beomgyu really...got along well.”

“Sure, I think we all got along well.” You offer, tucking yourself underneath his newly cleaned sheets. For a moment you wonder what he was going to do about the lights overhead, but they extinguish with a press of a button on his phone. Plunged in darkness, you can’t help but feel a bit bolder, indulging in the burn of defiance within you.

“Why? Are you jealous?” You ask. Yeonjun scoffs and you can feel the sheets pull as he flips underneath them. He says nothing but you can feel the air in the room shift. The bedding feels suffocating.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

----

When you wake, you’re uncharacteristically hot. You notice the sweat beading your neck and forehead as soon as you sit up, desperate to free yourself from the covers. You wonder if Yeonjun is suffering a similar fate, or if his body is used to the brutal heat of his bedroom. You turn to look for him, happy anxiety at the thought of seeing his sleeping form in real time brewing in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t count the amount of times you’d imagined this exact moment, wondered if he scrunched his face in his sleep or if he looked serene and peaceful, wondered if he snored or spoke or sighed in his sleep.

But all you saw was crumpled sheets and a small, bright green post-it note with bunched writing. It stuck to the bed sheets as you pulled it up, and you had to blink a few times before you finally understood the gist of the note. Yeonjun was gone, off to do his daily idol duties, and you are welcome to use their shower as none of the boys were home. You scan the note again for any sign of love or sincerity but find nothing more than cold and clinical facts, like a teacher giving instructions to a class.

Bitterness grows in your chest as you slip into the cramped shower and cool yourself off under a trickle of water. Theoretically, you know that Yeonjun would be busy while you were here. After all, you couldn’t expect the company to let him off of all responsibility just because you were around. Your skin was growing red under the scrub of your fingers. But he could have at least run it by you last night, warned you that he would probably be gone by the time you got up and given you some idea of when he’d be back. What were you supposed to do all day? You stepped out of the shower, flinging your wet hair away from your face. You could barely make it out of this building alone, but you’d be damned if all you did was sit here and wait for him to return. If he wasn’t going to be here, you’d make your own fun.

You were unfamiliar to Seoul, but after navigating yourself out of the BigHit building you felt as if you could conquer anything. You hadn’t realized how much of the day had passed by in your slumber until you stepped into the real world. Dusk had begun to fall over the sky, painting it a hazy purple-pink in anticipation of a sunset. People and cars and buses rushed by with purpose as you stand still and baffled at the city before you. The packed street before you is a little bit intimidating, but reminded you enough of the bustle of your hometown that you took a brave step forward anyway. Crossing so quickly that you almost run into a group of teenage girls, you finally reach some kind of a destination. To be fair, you had done zero planning on sight seeing before coming, so almost every building looked like a destination to you. A particularly cute looking café seemed to manifest itself out of thin air and beckon you in with sweet drinks and sugary snacks. You order and eat greedily with the realization that this is your first real meal since being on the plane yesterday, and the waitress laughs when you tell her that as you flag her down for another piece of cake.

The café certainly lives up to the hype you make for it, but you notice the employees begin to clean and close things down, so you leave and thank them on the way out. You finally check your phone, hoping that Yeonjun might have sent you an apology or an update, but you see nothing aside from email notifications. Emblazoned by his actions, you continue on your exploration, opening the doors to a clothing shop with so much force that other patrons cringe. Inside, you buy way too many things to fit in your suitcase before traipsing yourself-weighed down by bags- into a nearby restaurant. Something about being in Korea had elevated your appetite to an extreme level, so your stomach growls as soon as you cross over the threshold. The place is crowded, almost packed wall to wall as patrons and employees alike bustle between one another.

The cute wooden sign reads “seat yourself” so you dodge and weave until you find a tiny table, just big enough for your party of one, hidden in a more private corner of the restaurant. An employee spots you and yells out that he’s going to go get a menu, so you content yourself with people watching in the meantime. At the table diagonal to you, you spot a woman who looks just about the same age as you. Her hair is carefully waved; a deep, shiny brown that flows just down to the top of her chest. Every feature you can spot is immaculate and it makes you feel sick. Her nails are perfectly manicured, not a single chip or hang nail in sight, while your own nailbeds are torn up and bloody as a result of nervous picking. A weird, unwelcome acidity crawls up the back of your throat and demands to be acknowledged, makes your eyes burn with envious tears as the waiter finally delivers a menu and you wonder why you can’t just look that put together and perfect. After you order you can no longer stand to look her way anymore, angry at the fact that you were so resentful of this stranger.

Your waiter drops your food and utensils with polite haste but you aren’t nearly as hungry as you were before. Noodles and broth swirl around your spoon as the steam rises into your face, paying more attention to the bustle of the open kitchen where you spot a fun streak of vibrant pink hair. Whoever is donning it must have had it done recently. There’s a few small patches of pink dye spotting the back of their neck and it’s quite endearing to think about until you remember- Yeonjun was supposed to be dying his hair pink soon, and that tall frame and broad back look suspiciously familiar, and he still hasn’t sent you any texts, and you think that maybe he was just getting some takeout and heading back home but then he turns away from the counter and heads to your corner of the building. Your mouth goes dry, all the air still and stale in your lungs as his eyes land on yours. He looks away and then looks back again, double taking as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. As if he hadn’t been the one to invite you out to Korea, as if you hadn’t shared a bed last night. And then he moves, finally, walks away from the counter and toward your table with a tray piled with food and your heart hammers against your ribs as he walks right by and settles into the seat across from the perfect girl. She smiles wide as he unloads the food and settles in.

There’s nothing you can do but stare and fight the sting of your eyes until your waiter comes back around, notices your untouched food and asks if you want a takeout container. You say yes loud enough for Yeonjun to hear, and you can see him flinch but you know he won’t turn around. Not in public, with all these people around. Not when he’s an idol and you’re just a normal girl- a fucking tourist- and not when Miss Perfect is giggling her perfect laugh at whatever he just said.

The air outside is cold and it stings. Your face is wet but you don’t try to hide it. You don’t know any of these people, and they will never see you again. They probably won’t even remember that you cried on the walk home, weighed down with bags of food and clothes and the knowledge that Yeonjun was lying.

When you return to the dorm Beomgyu, Soobin and Taehyun are hanging around the living room, watching something on the television.

“Hey- where’s Yeonjun? He said he was going to dinner, we assumed he was meeting you.” Soobin asks, his tone cautiously trying to hide his confusion.

“Well, I did go to dinner,” you lift up the bags on your arm, “and so did Yeonjun. At the same place.” Your voice clips and you take a moment wonder if you should go on until Beomgyu mutters a soft “oh”.

“Well, here’s some food.” The plastic bag thuds on the coffee table. “Not hungry.”

----

You don’t know what time it is when Yeonjun decides to come back, but you have no plans of acknowledging his presence. The room is dimmed, only a bedside lamp left to keep you out of total darkness. You are perfectly content to simmer in your own anger for the night, let him feel it radiate off of your back the whole time you sleep. Until he has the audacity to ask, “Hey, what’s wrong?” You see red in the dark room. Your fingers clench into the pillow, making a victim out of the poor feathers and fabric as you contemplate throwing it at his head. His new hair looks even nicer in the low light; nearly fluorescent and falling in a perfectly styled arc around his face.

“Don’t do that. Act like you don’t know.” You spit. Yeonjun says nothing but he clears his throat awkwardly, as if he’s about to make an argument, but you beat him to it.

“At least tell me who she is.” You try to hide the waver of your voice but it’s already there to stay.

“She’s no one! I’m not really supposed to tell anyone about it yet, the guys don’t even know-”

“They don’t know what? That you’re keeping two different girls in your pocket? Can’t even commit to one for a week long vacation? Jesus, Yeonjun, If you want to...cheat on me, at least wait until I’m not in the country. Fuck, I can’t even call it cheating because you don’t even want to date me! We only met up again a few months ago, and we spent one day together! And we fucked and it was nice and it was fun but what the fuck was it really? I texted you today, you know, to ask where the hell you were, and you never answered. I know that your life is busy, but a warning yesterday would have been nice.”

“I’m not cheating on you! She’s not- she’s just, someone I- that’s not the point, Y/N! And I’m sorry I didn’t answer you, but I was really busy, and I forgot to bring it up and I’m sorry, but did you really expect me to hang around all day?” You grit your teeth to stop an annoyed screech from hopping out.

“Of course not, Yeonjun. I’m not an idiot. What I expected was some fucking communication. I traveled across the world to come see you, maybe even try to figure out what we are, and so far all I’ve done is wander around the city alone. This isn’t what I wanted to do! I’m missing a week of work for this! I didn’t come out here just to be your little plaything once you get home!”

“That’s not what I’m doing!” Yeonjun stands up from the bed, rubbing his palms over the back of his neck. “I knew you would never understand. You can never understand how busy this lifestyle is, and I guess I was stupid for believing that you could understand, and that you wouldn’t be mad at me for having to go do my fucking job.”

“I don’t understand? I don’t understand your life? Will you ever just admit that you only like me because you can mold me around your shit? When I’m back home you can call me at any hour that works for you, and I’ll pick up. You can bitch about your job and your friends and your company and all the pain you have but whenever I call you you’re tired or sick or just don’t feel like it. Guess fucking what Yeonjun. I’m here now. And we share a room and a bed and a city so you can’t keep me miles away and at your beck and call whenever you so well please. I’m right in front of you now, and you need to own up to your shit. You ignored me. Now you’re lying about whoever the fuck that girl was. You don’t get to be a prick just because you’re a famous idol.” Your face is hot and your hands are shaking. Sweat is beading on your forehead just like it did this morning and it makes you itch but you refuse to move a single muscle, hardened to the spot and staring Yeonjun down. You can’t even remember how the argument started, but all you know now is that you can’t stand to look at him any longer. His eyes are wide, bottom lip wobbling. Tears sting at your eyes and your nose burns and you’re ready to lay down or maybe chug a bottle of vodka.

“I’m going to bed.” You pull the covers over you even though you’re sweltering, turn off the bedside lamp with the switch and clamp your eyes shut.

----

Your brain never shuts off. Even when you slam your eyes shut and start counting metaphorical sheep, you’re still replaying the argument on a relentless loop. Yeonjun had left the room moments after you tucked yourself in and you had yet to hear the door creak to announce his reappearance, so it was safe to assume that he was sleeping on the couch or holed up with another one of the boys. Or maybe he went crawling back to Miss Perfect.

The room is suffocating; heat simmers off of every surface even after you’ve thrown off the sheets and the white walls are annoying you. If you ever talk to Yeonjun again it will have to be about his piss poor decorating skills and the fact that he couldn’t even manage to hang up some pictures to break up the never ending white. Your phone says it’s just minutes shy of 2 am, but what does that really mean when you have no idea what time you laid down? Your legs move before your mind decides where you’re going, seemingly possessed by the idea of leaving the room as fast as possible. There’s just enough time to shrug on a crewneck and a pair of sneakers before you find yourself under the blinding fluorescents of the hall that remind you exactly where you are. Tall, sturdy black doors stand on both sides of you, metal accents gleaming and boasting their contents. There’s no easy way to understand the layout of the building, and you assume that’s for the protection of the idols, but it also means that you completely forget the only route you know for leaving the building.

Had you taken a left or a right? Did you pass by the hallway next to the ladies bathroom or go down it? Had there always been a potted plant next to that office, or did all of the doors just look similar? Somehow, you find yourself back in the place you had first been delivered to when you arrived. The doors were slightly different here, some made of thick wavy glass that was vaguely transparent and others made out of the same black you had become used to. A set of three rooms with the wavy glass were right next to one another, and if your suspicions were correct they were all practice rooms, presumably empty at the lack of music. The thought of the rooms, empty and clean and sporting just enough comfortable furniture in the corner for you to sprawl out on. There was no way that sleep was going to overcome you, but at least you could feel secure in your loneliness for a few hours.

The metal handle was cold, chilling your sweaty palm instantly, but you’re met with harsh resistance. It doesn’t budge forward no matter how hard you push downward and lean into the door. Out of anger you try one more time, grunting and digging your heels into the carpet of the hallway.

“You need a card to get in.” A voice calls from what must just be steps behind you, and you jump embarrassingly high before turning reluctantly. Surely some poor late-shift cleaner or intern had seen you struggling with the door and decided to take pity on you before someone really saw you making a fool of yourself. You could only imagine what they were thinking- how they would go home to their pets or family or friends and laugh about the girl they saw throwing her entire weight against a locked door.

But in the split second your neurons begin to fire anew, you know that you weren’t lucky enough to be discovered by another normal member of society. On this already annoyingly unlucky night you come face to face with- once again- Jeon Jungkook. You flush immediately and pull at the hem of your shorts until they do a better job at covering your thighs. You’re still sweaty, strands of hair matted to the back of your neck and your forehead, and the fact that it’s sometime past 2 am and you’ve yelled and cried and tossed and turned and cursed everything that led you to this moment only makes you look worse.

And, of course, even though it’s sometime past 2 am and maybe Jungkook had also been sweating and tossing and turning and cursing everything too...he still manages to look like an angel. His hair is unruly, all loose and wavy and sticking up in some places. His outfit is almost identical to what you first saw him in, but this it was black instead of gray, and his sleeves are bunched at the elbow, only affording you half a look at his lithe muscles and tattoos. His lips split in the same toothy grin as he gestures a small plastic card your way. How dare he look so handsome no matter the circumstance. He’s so much closer than he had been before, merely a foot away from you in the narrow hallway. Up this close you can see how perfect his skin is, as smooth and pore less as Yeonjun’s and Miss Perfect’s.

“No, I don’t need it.” You dismiss his hand with a small wave, sour after reminding yourself why you were here to begin with.

“Seems like you do?” Jungkook’s voice was oddly small too. He retracts his hand halfway, making sure you could still take it from him if you want to.

“No, what I need is a new boyfriend.” You spit the words before your conscious can review them, before you can remember that Yeonjun isn’t your boyfriend, that he isn’t technically anything except a rekindled flame you traveled across the world for. Jungkook pulls his arm all the way back and his face softens. You know he puts the pieces together quickly and you can feel the sympathy pass through the hall. “Nevermind. I’m sure you’re busy, or need to pass by or- yeah, sorry.” You stand aside, press against the wall and wait for him to walk away, but he stays grounded and levels his soft but deadly gaze on you. It’s an unwelcome reminder that he’s one of the most famous idols in the world and you’re standing in the middle of his company building; tired and teary.

“Did you fight? Is that why you’re wondering through our part of the building alone?” He gestures at one of the doors further down the hallway, a solid black one, and you can make out a shiny plaque with his name on it and some cute little decorations taped on the wall.

“I’m so sorry, I can’t find my way around this place- I just couldn’t sleep so I wandered and I guess I ended up in...your part of the building.” You can feel the heat radiate off of your face as he smiles again, nose scrunching at your panic.

“Cute.” His nose wiggles one more time before he schools his features as if the word didn’t nearly knock you on your ass. Cute. Cute! He has the audacity to stand here in the middle of the night and call you cute. “Seriously, if you need somewhere to sit down or sleep, there’s a couch in my studio, it’s clean in there, you can-”

“Oh, no! Jungkook,” you blush stupidly at using his name, “I can’t ask you to do that. I’ll just circle back to Yeonjun’s and sleep it off.” The thought makes your stomach churn, the idea of trying to fall asleep in the exact room your almost relationship fell to pieces. Surely the carpet couldn’t be too uncomfortable-

“No, please, I’m offering. You look tired, and if you fought...well, I know how awkward it can be in the morning. Come on.” He walks away before you can protest and some other worldly sense makes you follow him. You never expected to be in this position, but you also never thought that Yeonjun would disappoint you so much. Inside of the partially padded studio is a surprisingly large sofa with a charming patchwork blanket draped over the back. Jungkook stands awkwardly next to his desk and picks at his fingernails as you sit down. You sink in to the couch and instantly feel more comfortable than you have in days, the soft scent of lavender and the warm yellow lights bring you as close to relaxation as you can get.

“I saw him with another girl.” You lose your filter again and Jungkook’s eyes narrow. “He says it wasn’t a date, but he also won’t tell me who she was, and the rest of them all thought he was with me so he’s obviously lying. We aren’t technically dating, so can I even be mad? He’s lying no matter what, and he didn’t even tell me he would be out all day or text me during it. But I also still have three more days to stick out here.” A few hot tears are slipping down your face and you can’t help but feel insecure about them.

Jungkook says nothing of the tears but chews thoughtfully on his thumbnail. He leans his hip against his desk, intimidating and sharp yet soft and handsome and sweet for letting you stay here and spill your anger into his studio. His socked foot taps on the floor in a rhythm unknown to you, and you can’t help but wonder how many people would kill to be in your exact spot. You notice a day-by-day calendar that’s quite a few days behind on his desk, and it makes you smile until he’s moving, lowering himself to the floor just a few inches away from your feet.

His fists clench- subtle enough that you wouldn’t even notice if the room didn’t feel so charged- and as he looks up at you, you see that a look somewhere between anger and pity paints his face. It’s embarrassing to sit here like this, so clearly under his scrutiny with nothing but your pajamas to cover you.

“I’m sorry.” Jungkook finally speaks again and shakes his head so much that a few ebony pieces of hair slip into his eyes in a near-perfect arc. You shrug. “Really, Y/N. I’m sorry. That’s an asshole move, no matter who the other girl is. You don’t deserve to be treated like that, and after all the trouble you put in to come out here and see him-he’s lucky we don’t cross paths often.” He sighs and suddenly he’s sitting next to you on the couch, the weight and heat of his body making the situation that much more real and that much more odd. You must still have unshed tears lining your eyes when you find the courage to look up at him because he frowns. “Please, don’t cry! It’s the first time I’ve ever had a girl in here, and well, it’d be pretty embarrassing if she spends the whole time crying.”

A shit eating grin sprouts on his face as soon as he sees your lips upturn with laughter. It’s hard not to be grateful for the joke, so you laugh and thank him for trying to make you feel better.

“And thanks again, for the place to sleep. Or, try.” You have a feeling that sleep will evade you all night, no matter how cozy the room makes you.

“If you don’t think you’re going to sleep-” Jungkook stands suddenly and rushes over to his desk. When he gets there, he turns his wide desktop computer until it faces the couch and logs in. “Then at least watch some movies! Here,” he puts a wireless keyboard in your lap- “whatever you wanna watch, I have it all.” You hesitate for just a moment and then type in the title of one of your favorite films with seconds to spare before Jungkook throws the patchwork blanket over both of your laps. He sinks back into the couch and you follow his lead, careful to keep a good few inches of space between the two of you because holy shit, you’re sitting next to Jungkook, and holy shit he’s watching a movie with you, and holy shit he just saw you cry and he looks so handsome from the side.

You pay more attention to Jungkook than you do the movie. It’s funny to watch someone who feels so extraordinary do something as normal as watching a movie and realize that he really is human. And the way he crinkles his nose and widens his doe-eyes makes your heart stutter with attraction and then guilt at the thought of Yeonjun, who still makes your palms sweat and your heart shake with anticipation of his touch despite your argument.

But here’s Jungkook, being kind and open and raw and willing to stay up with you on this random sleepless night although you only met by chance mere hours ago. And his kind eyes widen and narrow and crinkle when he laughs at the movie, and he offers you a second blanket and a throw pillow when your eyes get too heavy for you to focus, and you don’t think that you’re imagining things as you feel gentle fingers comb through your hair.

----

Your head feels like it’s filled with cotton when you wake up, confusion soaks your senses as you piece together where you are and how you got there and who’s lap your head is laying in. As if he could read your thoughts, Jungkook lets out a long and loud groan from above you. Clearly he had fallen asleep where he is now, head lolled against the back of the couch and a throw pillow folded between his arms.

“Good morning.” He drawls, voice still deep and thick from slumber. Out of all the things you never thought you would do, waking up to Jungkook is near to the top.

“M-morning.” You manage to call back as you run your hands over your face, hoping to absolve yourself of any evidence of shock. Jungkook’s studio is just as welcoming as it had been to you last night, but now a deep sense of guilt creeps through you. Yeonjun might have woken up by now, maybe he was ready to talk and try to make things better, maybe he’s been calling and texting you and you haven’t seen any of it. Your phone is nowhere to be found as you dig around in the blanket, a noise of distress clawing up the back of your throat. Heart pounding, you put a hand underneath the couch and slide it back and forth until your fingers graze over the cold, hard mass that must be your phone. As soon as it’s in your grasp you can see that the time is just a few minutes past 8am, and that you indeed do have a few texts waiting from Yeonjun.

“Oh, Jungkook, thank you again for-y-you know, but I have to go, do you mind showing me which way to go?” Poor sense of direction had landed you here to begin with, and you wouldn’t let it make this problem any bigger again. Thankfully he doesn’t protest; just waits by the door as you straighten out your pajamas. Out in the hallway, the lights are bright and imposing and you recognize a headache from the late night is starting to creep up behind your eyes. No one really seems to be around to see the two of you, and you are nothing short of grateful for that when Jungkook makes a quick stop and you barrel into his back, face burning with embarrassment. He laughs as you sputter apologizes and wave for him to keep leading the way, but he insists on stopping and turning to face you. His face is puffy with sleep, eyes still scrunching against the lights, but they’re still clear and gentle and it’s hard to miss the teasing twitch of his full lips in such close proximity.

A wave of admiration crashes through you, followed quickly by a sickening feeling of guilt. Yeonjun was probably waiting for you to come talk things out, and here you were drooling over a different boy. “I’m okay, lets keep going.” Urging him on with a gentle push to his muscled back is the most you can do since you still don’t notice anything distinctive to lead you back to the correct dorm. Just a few more steps down the hallway and you can hear voices, overlapping shouts, and one voice you would recognize anywhere coming from the way you were about to turn. Before you even had time to open your mouth to voice your concern to Jungkook, Yeonjun is stomping down the hallway, a panicked looking Taehyun in tow.

His face is draw, sharp features heightened by either confusion or anger- it’s hard to tell- as he realizes who’s standing in front of him. The two boys are fairly evenly matched in height but Yeonjun still squares up, lifting his shoulders higher and craning his neck. You know he knows you’re there; you shared a moment of eye contact in the seconds before he leveled a glare at Jungkook.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Yeonjun spits, anger shaking the fists at his sides. Jungkook is shocked, you can tell even from behind him, the way he recoils just slightly and scoffs as if he can’t believe his ears.

“Look, this doesn’t need to be a fight. I was just helping Y/N get back to your dorm.” You’re amazed at how well he controls his anger, especially after seeing the anger he held back against Yeonjun the night before. You take this as a queue to step out from behind Jungkook’s frame, allowing Yeonjun a better look at you.

“Oh, before or after she spent the night in your studio? Just couldn’t resist giving her a place to stay. Someone to sleep with?” Anger flares in your stomach, lighting a fire underneath your skin.

“What the fuck, Yeonjun? Do you really think that I would-”

“Sleep with him? Of course. Why wouldn’t you? Look at the state of you two, don’t tell me you didn’t fuck.” There was simply no believing what was coming out of his mouth, and his words only made you wish that you had acted on the feelings you felt brewing last night.

“What if I did? You certainly don’t want me! I’m sorry I went looking for companionship somewhere else!” It’s much too quiet in the hallway after that, the only evidence that the world hadn’t stopped turning is Jungkook’s hand that comes up to rest on your shoulder.

“So you did.” Yeonjun rubs his chin, taking a step backwards in what you assume is disbelief. Tears creep into the corners of your eyes, stubbornly burning and forcing you to blink until your vision is blurry. Jungkook says something you don’t quite catch through the static buzzing in your ears. You feel exhausted, weak at the knees with disbelief at just how awful this interaction was going; so lost that it takes Jungkook shaking your shoulder to bring you back to reality.

“Please, I don’t want to talk about this here. Yeonjun, let’s go, please.” You beg, walking toward him before he even responds. The idea of being caught in this odd trifecta made you sweat. Jungkook protests but you wave him off quickly, assuring that there was nothing else he could do. As upset as Yeonjun was, you knew that he would calm down substantially once the older boy was gone.

The walk to the dorm is thankfully short, and Taehyun tries his best at making small talk while Yeonjun trails behind like a petulant child. As soon as you cross into the dorm you feel awkward and hot all over like everyone is watching you even though Taehyun is already disappearing into his room and locking the door while Yeonjun breezes right past you.

“I’m not playing the silent game.” You follow Yeonjun into the kitchen where he has his head buried in the fridge, making a point to rattle every bottle and package inside of it.

“Alright, fine. Then you get to tell me the truth.” His voice is softer now, much less elevated and harsh than it was just minutes before. “Did you spend the night with him?” It rattles your bones to hear the edge of hurt in his voice.

“I was wandering around the building in the middle of the night, and he was too- so I told him what was going on and he offered for me to stay in his studio, on the couch. And I said yes-” Yeonjun’s face crumples. “We watched a movie and I fell asleep.”

“Why didn’t you just come back? I texted you, Y/N. We literally just argued about communication and the first thing you do is run to a different guy? If I’m not good enough for you, just admit it.”

“I could say the same exact thing to you. Why am I here? Should I just book a flight home tonight and call it quits? Do you even want to try this?” Yeonjun cracks open a bottle of water and drinks half in one go, avoiding your gaze at all costs. “And I did nothing with Jungkook. Because I respect you, and whatever the fuck this-” You gesture between the two of you, feet apart, “is. Or was.”

“Don’t say that.” Yeonjun’s voice cracks, reminiscent of the way he used to sound on the phone when he called you at the end of the day. “I- I don’t want to hear you say that. Please.” A tremor of hurt shakes your bones, creates an unpleasant lump in your throat that you try and fail to swallow. Yeonjun appears to you now as similar as he did in your teenage years; uncertain and small and his wide, glassy eyes latching on to you like a lifeline. And you can’t help but remember how you used to be too; devoted to him and naïve about where life was going to take you.

“I don’t want to say it either, Yeonjun. I hate saying it. But we aren’t the same people we were all those years ago. We’re in two different lives, and as much as I want to be able to fit into yours...it’s never going to happen.” Your body weight feels suddenly too much, like you’re being filled with lead and sunk to the bottom of the ocean to be forgotten. Yeonjun finally closes your perpetual gap in a slow gait that seemed like it would last forever. His eyes are red, puffy, rimmed with unshed tears. Dark circles ring his eyes and you know they’re because he probably didn’t sleep last night either. His lips are chapped and dry, pouting in an incurable sadness. Your fingers itch to cup his jaw and litter him with kisses until he finally grins.

“Are you saying you don’t love me?” If any other noise had happened at the same time he spoke, you wouldn’t have heard the question. A stake strikes through your heart at the words, scarring your soul for years to come.

“No, Junnie. I love you so much.” Your bottom lip wobbles and you gasp out a sob, “I just don’t think we’re going to work this time around. We’re both too busy, and on different tracks, and I think we just have to be more r-realistic.” You have to close your eyes, unable to watch the way tears begin to cascade down his own face. “I’m sorry.” You stand alone, still and cold and clamping your eyes shut so hard that they hurt.

Yeonjun’s body molds around your form, tight and warm and shuddering slightly from his own tears. He smells like laundry detergent and musk and you shake with regret as his arms wind around your back and hold you as close to his frame as you think is humanly possible. Your tears soak his crewneck as the fabric scratches your skin. His heart beat is erratic, but you know yours isn’t fairing any better, and you can’t help but curse the universe for bringing you all this way with him just to shoot you back down.

“I’m sorry too. For not being enough.” His words rumble into your hair and you can’t even find the energy to refute them and instead just shake your head. Your head spins in wild circle as Yeonjun finally stops shaking underneath you in favor of cupping your face in tender hands, forcing you to open your eyes. His look felt more intimate than anything else you had shared before; a pure and expressive opening into his most vulnerable form and the knowledge that you were the reason he was feeling it.

“I think I should try to catch an earlier flight home.” You aren’t quite sure exactly why you say it, but Yeonjun doesn’t seem surprised at the notion. After all, there would be nothing to stick around for. He still had to work and you had no relationship left to hang on to. You hadn’t even gotten around to unpacking your suitcase. Yeonjun nods sadly, wiping at a few more tears before clearing his throat. His voice is thick, the evidence of his emotion loud and clear and your heart breaks at the thought of truly walking away from him.

“I’ll miss you, Y/N.” There’s no telling if he would ever contact you after this, or if you would contact him. Maybe the two of you will live with odd shadows of one another in the back of your heads for the rest of your lives- a teenage romance rekindled years later only to explode and crackle and eventually fade into the dark.

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im-the-king-of-the-ocean · 3 years

Note

5 for Nuts and Dolts, because the hug in the trailer is still on continuous loop in my head and the only thing better than an angsty hug is an angsty hug AND KISS 8 for Data Farm, because I'm weak for the idea of Oscar being unexpectedly prince-like and making Penny feel like a princess (or the other way around) I can't remember the number, but the interrupted kiss for rosegarden No pressure to do all of these, I just couldn't decide on one ship because I love all of them

(as a brief refresher: Data Farms Fic Link, Rosegarden Fic Link)

...and here’s to finally being able to answer this ask and revealing the ridiculous (sort of) secret plan I’ve carried out over a month (or two maybe idk) and what’s now a six-chapter fic!

(no, I’m not joking, this (Rose Puppetry) was literally A Thing bc I’m Like That)

So, to explain, way back when I was doing requests for this kissing meme, it was around the same time that you introduced me to the Mechanisms music, and then the Magnus Archives after that.

Subsequently, I thought it would be really cool to make one of these three requests Steampunk-themed. I decided on the Nuts and Dolts one bc, when I first listened to Once Upon A Time (In Space), I associated Ruby and Penny heavily with Rose and Cinders (I think it was bc the album was brought up in reference to Souls or something like that? Also Rose Puppetry was my alternative solution to just derailing Souls completely into Being A Steampunk Fic).

Anyways, I started out with the intent to do a short oneshot where Penny breaks into a facility to save Ruby, which would be reminiscent of the final attack on Old King Cole that led to Cinders being reunited with Rose.

Except then I got carried away by world-building (bc it was so freaking fun) and Rose Puppetry became an entire multi-chapter fic all of its own.

For the record, I think I originally @ you when I posted the first chapter bc I was going to say that the fic was a response to this prompt and then quite literally forgot to actually say that anywhere. I then realized that, if I kept quiet about it, I could turn it into a surprise, which seemed like a fun thing to do, so I went for it.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy the end of Rose Puppetry!

5. Throwing their arms around the other person’s neck, hugging them close before kissing them passionately on the lips.

...

Rose Puppetry Ch6: The Tale of Little Briar and the Huntress in the Cottage

Summary:

A century ago or so, Atlas set out to conquer the world. Penny was built to be a spy, an infiltrator meant to find weaknesses in Vale’s defenses before the invasion.

She did. Then she fell in love. And rebelled against the kingdom that had created her.

Ch1. Ch2. Ch3. Ch4. Ch5.

Every child in Patch knows of the Huntress who lives in the cottage on the outskirts of town. Their great protector, who keeps the dangers of the woods at bay so they can go about their lives safely. No one knows, not really, where she came from. The youngest kids among them generally want to ask, but their parents usually shush them before they can try. It’s considered improper, prying into what should be left well enough alone.

Briar knows more about the Huntress than any of her peers, but you’d never catch her boasting about it in the school yard. No sir. She can keep a secret extremely well, she can. Well that, and she doesn’t want the Huntress to be upset with her and ask her father to not allow her to make the weekly deliveries anymore. Briar loves visiting the Huntress’s cottage, with its duck pond and its thick bramble of roses. But, most importantly, she loves being let inside and allowed to watch the Huntress work for just a little while.

For, in addition to being their protector against the scary monsters that lurk in the woods, the Huntress is Patch’s one and only mechanic. There used to be more, of course, but that was back before Briar was born and they all got called off to fight in the Great War against Atlas.

Briar once asked if the Huntress fought in the Great War, too. She remembers how the Huntress fell silent, the gloomy expression that had seamlessly eclipsed the Huntress’s entire being, and quietly swore never to ask again. It’s not important for her to know, Briar decided. Not like learning how gears, cogs, and screws all fit into machinery and make things like the big clock in the tower in the center of town work.

It’s a sunny day. A few wisps of clouds linger in the sky, but not many. Briar skips home from school, humming a happy tune of her own creation as she goes. She briefly pauses to scratch the noses of the cows who’ve wandered to the fence of their pasture bordering the road. The cows moo at her and sniff Briar’s fingertips for treats.

“Sorry, I don’t have anything for you today.” Briar giggles as their chin whiskers tickle her. “If I have time after I visit Ms. Rose, I’ll try and bring you all back something, but I make no promises.”

She continues on her way, only stopping in the Mech Field to pick a collection of bright, cheerful wildflowers. Briar pauses to consider the ruins of the old war machines, but Ms. Rose once warned her very sternly not to get too close to the fallen mechs without her supervision, so Briar doesn’t. Instead, she takes a spare hair ribbon out of her school bag, ties it snugly around the stems of her wildflowers to keep them properly bunched together, and heads home.

Her mother has the weekly grocery basket for Ms. Rose waiting when Briar arrives. She helps Briar securely fasten it to the deliveries bicycle and situate the flower bouquet on top so the bumpy ride won’t jostle them too much.

“Keep an eye on the time,” Briar’s mother gives her the usual warning. “And, if it starts growing dark, have Ms. Rose walk you home.”

Briar rolls her eyes. She’s big enough to come home all on her own, even after sunset, she thinks. Still, she promises, “I will!” before taking off on the bicycle.

Smoke lazily drifts into the sky from Ms. Rose’s cottage’s chimney as Briar makes her approach. The huntress’s dog, a great, big creature with a lumbering gait and a lolling tongue, appropriately named ‘Wolf’, runs to greet Briar as she approaches. She slows her bicycle to a stop and dismounts.

“Hey, Wolfie.” Briar scratches behind the dog’s ears, and gets licked enthusiastically for it. She laughs. Wolf dances excited circles around Briar as she walks over and leans her bicycle against the cottage. “Stop that!” Briar commands Wolf, only half serious. “I have to get the groceries inside!” She nudges the door open and walks into the cottage.

“Ms. Rose? Are you here?” Briar calls out.

“In the workshop, Briar!” Ms. Rose yells back from somewhere deep inside. Briar grins. With some care, she shoves the groceries in the refrigerator. Ms. Rose will organize them however she pleases later, after a few more hours of work, at least.

Briar goes to hurry through the kitchen, but remembers herself, and pauses at the sink to fill a pitcher with water for her wildflower bouquet. She carefully lowers the flowers in and unties her hair ribbon from around their stems. Then, after tidying the bouquet a little, Briar walks further into the cottage. She doesn’t go immediately to the workshop, but to a room Ms. Rose only recently granted her permission to enter.

Briar pauses and takes a breath in the doorway of the bedroom. It’s always a bit weird to do this. She’s never actually met Ms. Penny. Not back before, when she was awake. Ms. Penny doesn’t know who she is. Never had the chance to, really.

Regardless, flowers always make Briar feel better when she isn’t feeling well. With Wolf padding loyally at her side, Briar approaches the bed where Ms. Penny serenely sleeps and situates the bouquet on the table beside it.

“Good day, Ms. Penny,” Briar speaks politely, for she’s never spoken to a mechanical person, or one who’s never woken up, before Penny. Briar still feels kind of odd about that, but, since she first stumbled across Penny’s room, she’s been determined to try and make her feel better (if that’s at all possible).

“Spring’s here. The first of Mr. Oobleck’s lambs were born the other day.” Briar starts her usual, short, babbling update about life in Patch. “They’re extremely cute. I’ll draw you a picture, so, when you wake up, you won’t have missed seeing them.”

“She’d like that, I think.”

Briar jumps, and spins around. Ms. Rose stands in the doorway, leaning against its frame. She smiles softly at Briar, and joins her by Penny’s bedside. “Penny never…I think she always lived in cities before we met.” Ms. Rose takes a deep breath. “I’m not sure she’s ever gotten the chance to see a newborn lamb.”

“Then this will be her first time,” Briar says confidently.

“Yes.” Ms. Rose smiles sadly down at Briar. “Run along to the workshop now. I left today’s assignment out on the table for you. Try to see if you can get started on your own. I’ll be along in a moment.”

Briar does as she’s told, but not before stopping just outside the bedroom and sneakily poking her head back in to watch Ms. Rose gently smooth Penny’s long, soft copper curls and place a kiss on her forehead.

“Don’t wait too much longer to wake up, my love, alright?” Ms. Rose whispers.

Briar slips away, feeling a little guilty about spying on such a private moment. She doesn’t know why Ms. Penny sleeps, what caused her to fall into her lasting slumber in the first place, but Briar does know that Ms. Rose came to Patch to have a quiet, safe place to repair her.

The assignment Ms. Rose set out for Briar that day is a small music box. One that had, in all likeliness, played a lovely melody at some point, but has long since worn out. Repairing it shouldn’t be the hardest of tasks. Not now that Briar is a handful of months out of transitioning from ‘kid who gets to watch the Huntress work’ to ‘unofficial mechanic’s apprentice’.

Ever so carefully, Briar removes a tiny, rusty gear from the music box with her tweezers and sets it aside. She looks to Ms. Rose, who smiles reassuringly back at her. Briar finds the replacement gear, plucks it up with the tweezers, and goes to insert it right where it needs to—

“Hello?! Huntress are you here?” A voice shouts into the cottage. Wolf scrambles up from lying under where Briar’s feet dangle off her stool and barks loudly. Briar jumps. Her tweezers fall out of her hand. The replacement gear goes flying.

“Just a moment!” Ms. Rose calls back. She helps Briar retrieve the gear from where it’s fallen to the floor. “Think you can work on your own for a bit?” Ms. Rose asks. When Briar nods, the huntress wipes grease and oil smudges off her fingertips onto her leather apron and goes to see who has come asking after her aid.

Briar half listens to the ensuing conversation about a broken down car on the road as it drifts through the cottage to her. Ms. Rose briefly returns to the workshop for her portable tool kit, and then leaves to go repair the automobile in question. She promises she’ll check Briar’s handiwork upon her return. Wolf ambles back over to Briar. The dog circles a couple times to settle, and then returns to napping.

For the next couple of hours while Briar works, things are quiet and peaceful. She finishes repairing the music box. With bated breath, Briar winds it up and sets it down on the worktable. A soft tune fills the air. Briar can’t help but smile.

Too excited to wait until Ms. Rose gets back to show off her success, Briar carefully scoops the music box up in her hands and carries it to Penny’s room. She puts it down by the wildflowers she brought earlier, and lets it play its song a second time.

So caught up on listening to the music box’s melody is Briar, she doesn’t catch when it’s joined by the sounds of other mechanisms whirling and clicking. Ones that have long remained at rest, but, at the sound of a comforting song, rouse again.

Movement catches Briar’s attention. Before she realizes what’s happened, a pair of bright, dazzling green eyes meet her own. They almost seem to glow, as if they’re lightbulbs that have spent a long, long time charging up and want to celebrate the chance to finally illuminate.

“H-hello?” The voice is hoarse, creaky with disuse. It’s nothing like Briar imagined it would be. “Briar?”

Briar blinks rapidly. “You know me?” slips from her lips before she can stop the question.

“Of course.” Tentatively, Penny moves to push herself up in a sitting position. One of her hands slips before she can put weight down on it. Briar rushes forward to help support her. “Thank you.” Penny smiles gratefully at Briar. “To answer your question, I heard you. The days you came and talked to me and brought me flowers.” She pauses. “I’d very much like to see Mr. Oobleck’s lambs.”

“Oh.” Briar takes a minute to process this. “I didn’t think…” she’s not sure what to say. She’s imagined this moment hundreds of times, but, now that it’s happening, Briar’s mind is frustratingly blank.

“It’s alright.” Penny gives her a small, soft smile. “It’s not everyday someone you’ve only known as a ‘sleeping lady’ wakes up.”

“I-err-yeah…” Briar pauses. “If you don’t mind me asking, how could you hear me all those times? Since you were asleep?”

Penny inhales deeply and exhales, the clockwork of her body moving with the motion. “It’s a bit complicated. A short explanation would be that, even without enough power to function normally, I could still record audio.” Penny shoots a knowing smirk in Briar’s direction. “I would love to give you the fully detailed explanation. Later. If you don’t mind, there’s someone who’s long overdue for a hug, I think.”

Briar’s eyes widen. “Oh! Ms. Rose! Of course!” She scrambles up to fetch Penny a walking stick to lean upon as she gets up. “She went out to repair someone’s car. I think it’s just down the road!” Briar hovers, ready to support Penny if she needs help with walking. When Penny makes it to the doorway on her own, Briar relaxes a little.

Together, with Wolf keeping pace with them (and Briar would swear the dog is keeping as much a careful eye on Penny as she herself is), they make their way outside.

Penny pauses, and looks up at the blue, blue sky. She blinks. If she were capable of crying, she probably would have. “I never dreamed I’d see it again.” Penny whispers. She turns to look ahead, down the road she and Briar intend to walk, and sees someone coming toward them on it. Penny gasps.

There is one sight that Penny dreamed of, longed for, during her oh so very long slumber. One sight, her vague, ethereal thoughts could never quite capture, but tried to constantly. The person she sees on the road doesn’t quite fit the picture Penny remembers. The person is no longer a youthful maiden, but a full grown woman. Her black-red hair is longer, kept in an untidy braid over one shoulder. She’s wearing the garb of a mechanic, and not combat dress. Branching scars, leftover from a (Grimm) time Penny would very much like to leave in the past, dance across her skin.

“Ruby.”

Penny breathes the name out at the same time Ruby sees her, stops, and stares.

A moment passes where no one moves, where the world is held frozen in shock. Anxiety ripples over Ruby’s face. Worry that needs no verbal words to describe it. That Penny won’t love this older version of her. That this person she had to grow into while she patiently waited for Penny to wake up isn’t someone Penny will be able to bring herself to love.

Penny takes a step forward, and then another. Her walking stick is cast aside as she recalls how to push her legs into motion as fast as she can. She runs, reaching Ruby in the blink of an eye. Eager to vanquish all the anxieties she sees in her beloved, Penny takes Ruby up in her arms and spins her around and around. She laughs, causing Ruby to laugh with relief too.

They’re together. Nothing, no war or conflict or spiders who want to control them, can get in the way of that any longer. They may have once been puppets in a grand scheme, but they’re free now. Free to do whatever they wish, as long as they wish.

Penny stops spinning Ruby around. She holds her close, drinking in the sight of Ruby’s sparkling, silver eyes. Without thinking about it, they press their foreheads together and simply gaze at each other.

Later, they’ll let Briar commit a condensed version of their story down on paper. A fairytale, it will be. One only a handful will actually believe there’s truth to, but that’s just as well to them. Right now, this moment? This moment is just for them.

Ruby wraps her arms around Penny. Penny leans in. Their lips find each other. Tentative, unsure, aware they have a lot to adjust to again with each other (but eager to get started). The kiss is soft and sweet. A promise of many, many more to come.

They don’t live happily ever after. For Penny and Ruby’s story doesn’t end here. It goes on, with many days full of love, and equally as many filled with struggle as they learn each other’s embrace again. There are moments when the scars of the past threaten to consume them, and moments filled with nothing but laughter and joy.

Overall, though?

Penny and Ruby live together for a very, very long time, and that time together is largely marked by their shared happiness.

#rwby #nuts and dolts #ruby rose #penny polendina #steampunk au #rose puppetry #whirls writing #not the first time i've gone overboard on a request #but the first time i've waited until literally the last chapter of the fic #to reveal that that was the plan all along

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