#my recipes say at least one whole angst in the soup

[the-modern-typewriter]

I love your blog so much! Reading all of your stories is such a joy; you're extremely talented! May I ask for a little snippet of a villainxhero pairing who were once lovers but are now enemies (maybe with a light sprinkle of some angst)?

"You'd think," the villain said, "that at some point you'd get a life of your own." They spun to face the hero. "But you always were a bit obsessed with me, weren't you?"

Obsession had connotations, but it was possibly not entirely untrue either. The villain had been the sun the hero orbited once. (Maybe in some way, they still were. Always would be.) The hero's face flushed. Their fists clenched at their sides.

"I'm not obsessed with you, just with stopping you." Maybe if they'd seen what the villain would become, maybe if they'd done everything differently, none of this would ever have come to pass, after all. The villain was monster that was, if not of the hero's making exactly, certainly their responsibility.

The villain snorted. "You always did follow me around like a lost little puppy."

"And you always did get particularly cruel when I was close to winning," the hero said. "When you wanted me to back off."

The villain's eyes darkened. "Stop following me."

The hero shook their head. Their throat felt thick, but it changed nothing.

The villain raised their brows. "Do you want to die?"

"Have we got so bad that you want to kill me?"

The villain opened their mouth, then closed it. The hero watched them swallow, hard. They took a step closer in silence and raised a hand to the hero's throat - waiting for a flinch, perhaps, or some reaction. The hero jutted their chin up almost defiantly.

The villain's fingers brushed along their frantically racing pulse. The hero remembered their lips there so many times, warm against their skin.

"I could," the villain said. "You make it easy."

Their eyes met.

"A little pressure..." The tips of the villain's nails lengthened, sharpened, like the press of a claw. "And your life is over, because you still can't help letting me close. Over, and over again. Do you never ever learn?"

People basked in the sun, and near flame, for warmth and light and safety against the dark. But those things could burn. Could kill.

The villain's lips were inches from the hero's. The hero closed their eyes, and still didn't move.

"It's not about want," the villain whispered, with a voice full of exactly that, still, after all the time that had passed.

"Everything is about want." The hero leaned in, just enough for the villain's hand to cut skin.

The villain recoiled like they were the one burning, burning, burning. Their gaze fixed on the hero's throat. Their breathing stopped.

"You should now that," the hero said, with a small shrug. "What we want makes the world turn. Right now." They stepped closer that time, and the villain stumbled back. "I want information on your employer. I'll stop following you when I have what I want."

The villain seemed to force themselves to exhale a breath, and it was their turn to flush, for their fists to clench. "I only didn't kill you because they haven't ordered me to do it yet."

"Good start. What were their other orders about me and the infinity project?"

"You're exhausting!"

"I'm relentless. You liked that in me once."

The villain shook their head, turning away. They looked down at their hand, and forced their hand to uncurl. It appeared normal again.

"I'll follow you everywhere," the hero said, and this time it was their tone that was cruel. "Like a lost little puppy. One that hasn't been trained not to bite when backed into a corner. You want to back me into a corner?"

The villain glanced at them, once more, assessing. Because for all that things had stayed the same, things had changed too. "I'm not concerned about backing you into anything." Their voice was cool once more. "You should be concerned about what I'll lead you into."

That was probably true, too. The hero shrugged again. Waiting.

The villain sighed, heavily.

"I really should just kill you. Let's get off this street before someone sees us. You get three questions, alright? That's all."

The villain spun, and walked.

And the hero followed them.

#villain x hero #hero x villain #villains and heroes #heroes and villains #writing #creative writing #story #angst #ex lovers #lovers to enemies #a sprinkle of angst lol #my recipes say at least one whole angst in the soup #can be grated

[def-initely-soul]

house rules {2}

pairing: jimin x reader (f.)

genre: fluff; angst; roommates au; kinda new girl au; smut; f2l au

rating: explicit

warnings: sexual content; mention of emotional abuse; mention of manipulative relationship; mention of body issues; explicit smut

words: 19.6k

summary:

↠ {living with two guys has always its pros and cons. Pros being someone will always get you popcorn for your midnight cravings. Cons being you might like one of them…?} ↞

or alternatively, the shenanigans of five friends, where two of them are in a loving relationship, one is Kim Seokjin and the other two don’t know what the fuck they’re doing

.

.

Next morning, on Christmas eve, you try to be as nonchalant as you can. Thankfully your walls are thick enough so no one took notice of your late-night shenanigans and what happened between you before Hoseok’s interruption was barely anything out of the ordinary.

Thankfully you get yourself distracted with the preparations for this evening. Every year the five of you plan a traditional Christmas dinner, idea courtesy of Hoseok’s and Seokjin’s minds, where every single one of you was assigned to different tasks.

Seokjin is in charge of the roasted turkey, as he is every year, Hoseok will cook his famous vanilla-roasted sweet potatoes, Jimin will prepare a cauliflower soup and Ana is always in charge of the desert. This year choosing the recipe of a Buche de Noel.

You’re left with the simple task of making smooth mashed potatoes and bringing the booze.

Even though simpler than what others have to do, it gives you time to be alone and focus on something else other than Jimin. Whether you’re cooking or going to the store to pick up the alcohol, your time is productively filled with anything other than thoughts of him.

You take a nap around midday, leaving the kitchen free for the guys to use. Taking a hold of this opportunity to stay clear of Jimin’s gaze. You make sure your interactions are limited between the lines of what is only necessary, even when the preparations are done and you sit around the table.

Ana and Seokjin arrive together, the turkey the size of a small TV, which Seokjin himself puts on the table. Not letting anyone else help him or carve it, flashbacks of last year when Jimin tried to carve it and nearly dropped it still etched to everyone’s memory.

You help Ana move the desert to the fridge for later, and as all of you take your places at the dinner table, you feel a particular set of eyes on you.

Thankfully you don’t sit next to him so you don’t have any one-on-one conversation like you do with Seokjin sitting to your right. You only talk to him when the conversation involves the whole group and that’s only to not alert anyone that something is off.

Your mind is swarmed with memories of Jimin’s look. With the way he’s looking at you now.

You ignore it in favour of talking to Ana at the end of the table as she rumbles excitedly about the party next week. You immerse yourself in that conversation, going lightly over some details and pouring another glass of wine as Seokjin passionately joins you.

Although, even if you’re engrossed to something else you can’t help but notice one thing. 

He never mentions Dinah.

And that gives you magnificent, dreadful hope.

.

.

It’s New Year's Eve, and you’re in an awfully good mood.

The party is in full bloom, the essence of joy and excitement wafting through the air, people dancing their worries away and laughing under the neon-lights (Ana really went all-in in the decoration department), having fun in what can only be a fitting welcome for a bright New Year.

The mulled wine has gotten slightly into you, landing you in that perfect spot between sober and tipsy, just enough to elevate your already high spirits. Besides you’re also celebrating finally finishing your book. It’s been a bitch of a struggle but finally, you’ve gone and did it. Finally booking an appointment with a publishing company that took an interest in you after reading one of your drafts you’ve previously sent them.

And well. Dinah isn’t here.

“I cannot believe I’m talking to the next Stephen King!” Hoseok yaps excitedly, throwing an arm around your shoulder, voice raised higher than normal due to the several “old-fashioned” he managed to throw back.

You grunt from the sudden weight as he leans a bit too much on your side to stand up. “Okay, step it down a notch, buddy,” you chuckle, patting him on the shoulder.

He thinks it over before-. “Sir Arthur Conan Doyle?”

Your eyes widen, an involuntary laugh escaping you. “I said step it down a notch, not climb the whole mcfreakin ladder?” Hoseok giggles happily, before his eyes rest on the hostess, who’s currently talking to a coworker, gleeful smile in full bloom.

He waves at you to lean closer to him and you oblige. “See that girl over there?” he whispers to you conspiratory, pointing at Ana who seems oblivious to your conversation. You chuckle at his drunk antics but decide to appease him and nod.

A blissful smile takes over his lips. “Imma marry her someday.”

You barely keep your smile at bay. Honestly, Hoseok is whipped for Ana and anyone who doesn’t see that is blind, so it doesn’t sound weird coming from him. You’re willing to bet his wish is gonna come true someday. It’s just a matter of time.

Though you’re happy for your friends, you can’t let this teasing opportunity pass you by.

“Hey, champ, I got some bad news for you…” you press your lips together in mock-sadness and Hoseok’s face falls.

“She has a boyfriend,” you deliver the final blow and his eyes widen. Before he bursts into tears.

At least a couple of people stare at you, as Hoseok bawls his eyes out and you can’t stop cackling. Oh, god, you didn’t know he was this drunk, he was perfectly fine moments ago! Although to be perfectly candid, he has a low alcohol tolerance, so really this one is on you.

Ana shows up after a few seconds, worry etched into her features after seeing her boyfriend cry like a baby. “What happened? Are you okay?” she asks him, obviously more sober than him, but once she sees you laughing, her eyes narrow. “What did you do to him?”

You shrug, your expression being the poster-child for innocence. “Nothing! I just told him you have a boyfriend.”

This sends another wave of tears down Hoseok’s cheeks and Ana laughs incredulously. 

“Is it true? Do you have a boyfriend” Hoseok struggles to ask through his hiccups and Ana can’t repress the lovesick smile on her lips.

“Yes and he’s a giant baby.”

“Does that mean I still have a chance?”

Ana chuckles before pressing a kiss on Hoseok’s pouty lips. “It’s you, you dufus! Now, come on, let’s get you to lay down…”

“Really?” he says with the most childlike smile you’ve ever seen on him. And only seconds later it turns into a smirk. "Oh, I will lay down, I will lay down so hard that you-” he struggles to complete his sentence, “that you’ll want to lay down with me…”

You groan out loud, not ready for the scene to turn into an NSFW one. “Are you horny all the time?” you complain out loud and the couple raises their brows at you.

“...Already know the answer to that one. Thank you very much five years of living together!” you admit regrettably and Ana tsks you.

“Serves you right for having the nerve to terrorize the sun himself!”

“That’s me!” Hoseok points to himself with a proud smile and you press your lips together to stop the giggles from escaping as Ana rolls her eyes fondly at her boyfriend.

“I’ll get him to my room-” Hoseok finger guns her, winks and blows her a kiss, “could you please make him some coffee?” Ana pleads you as she struggles to push a drunk Hoseok down the hall.

“You got it, babe! I’m gonna roast this coffee so bad, it’s gonna go running to its momma!” you announce in the spur of the moment, but Ana just looks at you like you’ve grown a second head.

“Doesn’t work for me, does it?” Ana just shakes her head and you huff. “I’ll go get the coffee…”

You drive through the crowd, barely avoiding the drinks spilling left and right and finally reach the kitchen. Thankfully there’s only like a couple of people around, so you reach for the french press easily, adding the coffee grounds and warming some water in the microwave.

“Why on earth are you having coffee with so much alcohol around and why does that weirdly make sense for you?” Jimin enters your vision, resting his hip on the counter in a mirror of your stance and you have to take a breath.

His dark blue hair is slicked back, revealing the magnificence of his eyebrows (yeap, that’s another spot of Jimin you’re weak about). He’s dressed in all black; black jeans, black T-shirt with an open neckline, a leather belt hugging closely at his hips, a dangly earring gracing his earlobe and a silver chain resting against his glistening collarbones. He has been dancing and all you wanna do is dive in and bite at the skin of his neck, glinting welcoming under the dimmed lights.

Focus.

“Give me a break, it’s not even for me…” you joke back, just in time to cover up your little zone-out. Jimin stares back confused.

“Who then-?” he makes a sound of realization before he chuckles. “Hoseok,” he responds and you nod, a giggle already on your lips.

After Christmas eve, when you refused to even speak to him, things became less weird. It seems like the two days you spent actively avoiding each other helped in restoring the dynamics back to normality. You’re not even sure who made the first move but after a few days, you were back to normal, as if that thing on the couch never happened.

Maybe it is for the best to pretend it never happened. No feelings are going to get hurt this way.

“Yeap, Ana took him back to her bedroom,” you reply, moving to pour the water into the french press.

Jimin raises an unconvinced eyebrow as he hands you a mug. “And are you sure they’re not gonna fuck back there?”

You take the mug with an appreciative nod. “Honestly, they’re probably fucking right now on their way there. Maybe they are, maybe they’re not. Maybe I’ll be scarred for the rest of my life walking into that and maybe I won’t.”

“And you’ll take those chances?” Jimin chuckles incredulously and you almost swoon at the way his smile lights up the room.

“This coffee won’t deliver itself!” you joke and Jimin’s smile turns bigger.

“Your service is greatly appreciated!” he says with an awful British accent and proceeds to laugh.

“Well, thank you good sir!” you play into it with a curtsy and both of you burst into happy, slightly intoxicated giggles.

Your eyes rest on the french press as the coffee grounds seep into the water and it’s like your lips have a mind of their own when they ask the following question.

“So, alone tonight?” you ask with fake nonchalance and you swear Jimin tenses.

You can’t help yourself. From the moment you realized Dinah was absent you wanted to know why. They’ve been dating for almost a month, so that means they’d still be all over each other, you figured they’d want to spend New Year's together.

So how come Dinah isn’t here?

Jimin nods, eyes absentmindedly following your fingers as they trace the marble counter.

“What happened to Dinah? Didn’t want to spend New Years with our ugly asses?” you joke, hoping to lift the tension off his shoulders and rejoice when Jimin cracks a smile.

“No, no. Actually, her friends are throwing a party too…” he simply says, not giving you another explanation even though something else clearly bothers him. You don’t ask further, figuring he’ll tell you if he wants to, so you move to press the plunger down and pour the brown liquid into the cup Jimin handed you earlier.

“And I actually didn’t …” he hesitates, biting his bottom lip.

God, this is straight-up torture.

“Didn’t…?” you urge him on, sensing his desire to say whatever’s bothering him.

He takes a breath.

“Didn’t have the need to invite her…?” he admits, eyes on the steaming cup of coffee, struggling to put his thoughts into words as you stare at him utterly confused. He didn’t have the need to invite her? Like, he didn’t care if she was here?

No, Y/N, don’t get your hopes up.

Jimin huffs, running a hand through his hair.

“I mean.. I didn’t want to.”

And you find him staring at you again, with those intense, magnetic eyes and your breath is sucked out of your lungs.

He didn’t want to invite her. Why? What does it mean? Why did he do it?

And why is he looking at you like that?

Did he-?

“Surprise!” a familiar female voice echoes through the kitchen as Dinah throws herself literally against Jimin, hugging his waist with an excited smile. No concern in her eyes over your panicked faces.

You don’t know if she heard your conversation but if she did, she doesn’t show it.

Jimin’s wide, panicked eyes travel between you and Dinah. “Dinah, what are you doing here? I thought you were spending New Year’s at Minoh’s?” he turns around to bring her forward and the intimacy hiding in the domestic action drives a knife through your chest.

“That party was boring as hell. And I missed you,” she says with a blinding smile and leans in to press a soft kiss on Jimin’s lips, ripping your heart in two.

You can’t stand this. You can’t stand to watch as she kisses him right in front of you and you feel like an outsider, glimpsing at something you long for but can’t have. Is it always gonna be this hard?

You swallow the lump in your throat, gripping the cup tighter and force a smile on your lips just in time for the couple to miss your crestfallen expression.

It’s time to get out of here.

“That’s great! You’re just in time to spend New Year’s together!” you exclaim with forceful enthusiasm and Dinah nods excitedly as Jimin looks at you with an indecipherable expression. “You’ll have to excuse me, I have to deliver this bad boy!” you smile, pointing at the mug and you start walking away, already waiting for the moment you don’t have to keep that smile on your face any longer.

That seems to wake Jimin up as his eyes widen. “Wait, Y/N, I didn’t-”

“Have fun at the party!” you interrupt him, keeping the smile on for a little longer, before you turn your back at them, smile disappearing, steps fast as you miss Jimin’s face filled with despair.

.

.

Your steps bring you back to the living room, already having delivered the coffee to Ana’s room. Although Jimin’s suspicions were correct and you walked into a scene you’d rather forget, closing your eyes to avoid any more damage on your retina, resulting in you leaving the couple with a half-spilt coffee.

Not that they’ll be needing it now anyway.

Stepping into the main area of the party you can’t help the sour mood that takes over you, watching everyone have a good time. You were also having a good time until Dinah arrived.

Which reminds you. What did Jimin mean back then? Was it just stupid you with your tendency to read way too much into things or did he actually mean what you wanted him to?

And if he did, why is he still dancing with her?

Your eyes are stuck to the couple in question, dancing in the middle of the living room as a mid-tempo dance track plays through the speakers, Dinah’s hands wrapped around Jimin’s waist as he sways her softly to the beat.

The night started out so well. You were having fun, for once all worries put aside as you didn’t have to think about the book or Dinah, or Jimin. You were happy.

But then someone decided to shit all over that happiness and you were back to the beginning. Having your heart broken by your best friend and he doesn’t even know.

You take a breath to calm the erratic beating of your cracking heart when you see a too familiar face emerging from the kitchen.

Oh no, what is Jaehyun doing here?

You move quickly, dreading to talk to him, hoping he won’t see you but, alas, luck was never on your side.

His eyes spot you all the way across the room, with numerous people in between like he has laser vision or something. A smile takes over his lips as he waves at you and begins walking towards you.

God, no. No, you can’t deal with him right now. He’ll probably want another date and you know he deserves to know the truth but you just can’t do it right now.

You’re quick to move to the balcony, trying to lose him through the crown but his voice keeps calling you even outside. You slip through the people and into the living room, stopping to see him briefly lose you as his eyes scan the balcony.

You escape into the kitchen, hoping he won’t look for you here and in your hastiness to hide, you fall face-first into Seokjin’s chest.

“Fuck, sorry, you need to move!” you say urgently, trying to hide behind the massive wall he calls his shoulders.

Seokjin regards you with a suspicious glare. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to hide from Jaehyun!” you bite through gritted teeth as your eyes scan the open area behind you. With relief you realise Jaehyun isn’t anywhere near, just a bunch of other people and Jimin talking with Dinah and Hoseok.

Your heart still clenches uncomfortably when Seokjin interrupts your thoughts.

“Why are you hiding from Jaehyun? Didn’t the date go well?” he asks you purely confused and with guilt, you realize you never told him nor Ana that you bailed.

You bite your lip. “I didn’t go…”

Seokjin’s eyes widen comically. “What?! Why?! I thought you wanted to!”

You groan rubbing your palm on your face. “I just… didn’t feel like it anymore! And now he’s here, looking for me and I don’t know what to do! Who invited him anyway?”

At that Seokjin has the decency to look guilty. “I may have seen him at the coffee shop and invited him… But in my defence I didn’t even know you bailed on him!” he looks at you with a scolding glare and another groan leaves your lips.

“Oh, shit here he comes…” Seokjin looks carefully behind you and you steal a glance to indeed see Jaehyun stepping into the living room and walking straight towards you.

“Okay, fuck, let me think…” you mumble in thought when you see something on the ceiling, hanging just a few centimetres behind Seokjin.

“Got it!” you exclaim, and when Seokjin doesn’t follow, you push him back so both of you stand right beneath the thing hanging from the ceiling and then you point at it, knowing he’ll catch the drift.

Seokjin’s eyes follow your fingers, only to widen in horror when they rest at what you're pointing at.

Mistletoe.

“No! No, no, no, I’m not kissing you so you can get rid of him!” he hisses, eyes swimming in denial and disbelief. But you narrow your eyes at him.

“It’s your fault he’s here! So step the fuck up Kyle!” you hiss back and Seokjin looks less than thrilled.

“Don’t quote vines to me, you heathen, I won’t hesitate bitch!” he responds and you know you’re halfway winning him over.

“I can’t believe you’ve done this…” you reply, mastering the perfect puppy eyes.

The sound of his favourite vine has him yielding in a matter of seconds, choking back a laugh before he rolls his eyes. “Fine. But we gotta hurry up, he’s almost here,” Seokjin relents, eyes falling behind you.

“Buckle up,” is the only thing you say before grasping Seokjin’s panicked face and press your mouths together.

You stay like that for a few seconds, simply pressing your lips together like an awful K-drama kiss though there’s no romantic music playing in the background. The kiss is at its best… underwhelming. That’s what you were lusting after all those years? It certainly doesn’t live up to the expectations.

You lean back, staring at Seokjin who barely manages to conceal his weirded out face. “Is he gone?” you whisper and Seokjin nods in relief.

“Yes, he’s gone…” he mumbles, letting out a breath as you let his face free and take a step back, finally breathing freely.

“Don’t ever do that again!” he exclaims, his words followed by a loud gagging noise.

“Anything for you Beyonce!” you say, sharing the sentiment and you grab a random shot glass on the counter, to wash out the feeling of Seokjin’s clumsy mouth on yours.

“We don’t tell anyone. We take this to the grave and live the rest of our lives feeling slightly awkward with each other. Sounds good?” Seokjin states with wide eyes and you laugh at his seriousness.

“Ay, ay, captain! Now take a shot with me to erase the memory for good!” you say, filling two glasses with tequila and you hand him one.

“To forgetting this ever happened!” he raises his shot and you follow his movements before downing the contents of the glass.

“Amen to that.”

.

.

Half an hour later, its time for the countdown so the New Year can officially begin.

The automatic clock on Ana’s TV screen reads 23:59:03 and you rush to gather your friends together in one place, so the New Year can find all five of you together as it has for the last four years.

The rest of the attendees also gather in groups; friends, couples, coworkers, newly made acquaintances but all shimmering with the vibrating delight to welcome the New Year and the opportunities that are bound to come.

Ana and Hoseok are already counting down the numbers - admittedly a bit too early -, and Seokjin passes you four tequila shots to celebrate once the clock strikes midnight. But then he’s left with an extra one and realization strucks you.

“Hey, where’s Jimin? He’s supposed to be here!” you yell to be heard amidst the loud chattering of the crowd, but your question remains unanswered when Seokjin shrugs his shoulders in loss.

Ana looks around to find said-man but it’s Hoseok that finally puts an end to the mystery. “Uh, actually he went home!”

Your eyebrows furrow, confusion apparent in your eyes. He’s never missed out on this! How could he leave? You always spent New Year’s together, the five of you, it was your unique tradition, one you’ve expected him to keep up with.

Maybe he was feeling a bit under the weather, you try to reason with yourself. Let’s not get mad at him before knowing the whole story.

“Wait, so he left without telling anyone? Is he okay? Did he even tell Dinah he’d leave?” you question back, aware of Ana & Seokjin’s wary gazes but you don’t bother to acknowledge them.

Thankfully, Hoseok still isn’t entirely sober to notice them either and start asking questions.

He just shakes his head at you. “Oh, no, they both left. Oh, the countdown’s started!”

As people begin shouting along with the voice on the TV you can’t help but stare aimlessly into space.

They both left. Jimin ditched you, all four of you to spend New Year’s with Dinah. Alone.

And it hurts. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

It shouldn’t feel as much as a personal attack but it does. He left all four of you but it still feels like he specifically left you behind. As if he doesn’t care anymore. Before all that the chance of the two of you ever happening was abysmal. But it was still there, however small. You were fine with that cause at least you knew he valued you as a friend.

Now, you’re not even sure of that anymore.

You should be fine with him leaving. You’re just his friend.

And yet the heartbreak is overbearing.

Seokjin looks at you carefully as Hoseok keeps counting down to one, entirely unaware of what just happened as Ana counts with him but her eyes are on you.

You give her and Seokjin a weak smile, before averting your eyes quickly to count as well, not bearing to see the looks of pity in their eyes.

You hate this.

The clock strikes midnight.

You’ve never felt more alone.

.

.

The next morning finds you exhausted when you wake up on Seokjin’s couch. You’re not sure you could handle going back to the apartment and having Dinah and Jimin across the hall from you. Hoseok was going to spend the night at Ana’s, meaning firstly he kinda gave Jimin the pass to run wild and secondly you couldn’t crash at Ana’s. Of course, she insisted it was okay but you didn’t want to cockblock her on New Year’s. So Seokjin offered his home as an alternative which you happily accepted.

You’re dreading to go back to your flat, though already knowing it’s an inevitable curse, you leave a note for Seokjin to find when he wakes up and then you leave his apartment.

On the way home, you wonder if you should trek over to the donut shop around the corner for some heavenly delicacies but then you’d have to buy Jimin and Dinah some. And that is simply something you’re not willing to do.

Hopefully, they’ll be both asleep when you arrive, too tired to be up at 10 am on New Year’s, so you’ll get your chance to quietly slip into your room and avoid everyone for the rest of the week.

Maybe even a month until those stupid feelings finally decide to disappear.

You try your best to be as soundless as possible when you unlock the front door. You enter the living room on your tiptoes, closing the door quietly behind you before moving to throw your coat on the hanger.

The moment you think you’re alone passes by quickly when you hear the door of the fridge being shut and immediately turn around to see Jimin staring at you with bleary eyes. His hair is a mess as he’s clad in a white T-shirt and grey sweatpants as his pjs, a cup of what must be steaming coffee on one hand as the other runs through his locks. You find yourself salivating.

“Where did you go this early in the morning?” his gruff voice comes out, purely confused and before you get to correct him, his eyes fall on your figure. And he realizes you’re still dressed the same as last night.

“Did you just get here?” he asks, his voice a tad too sharp and accusing to be considered friendly and your arms wrap around your middle protectively.

“Uh, yeah… I crashed at Seokjin’s… Too tired to come back after helping Ana clean up…” you joke, forcing a laugh to hopefully ease the sudden tension hanging in the air.

Though your airy laugh doesn’t reach Jimin. Instead, his eyes are fixed on the wall to his right, jaw tense in what seems almost as anger before he takes a quick sip of his coffee and slum the cup on the counter.

“Ugh… are you okay-?” your confusion is apparent in your voice as Jimin walks off the kitchen, down the hallway.

“I’m going back to sleep…” he mumbles through clenched teeth before he disappears inside his bedroom and closes the door with a loud bang.

You stare weirdly at his door, bewildered by his entire behaviour but you’re still too sleepy to let it get to you. So instead you opt for crawling over to your room and hide beneath the covers.

.

.

The days after New Year’s turn out weirder and weirder to the point of questioning your mental state.

Seokjin still feels somewhat awkward around you after the kiss but instead of avoiding you, as any normal human being would do, he actively seeks you out, clinging to you and following you around like a shadow, as if the over-exposure will help him get rid of the awkwardness faster.

True to your words, none of you have said anything about it to the others, so you were half waiting for everyone to be immediately weirded out by Seokjin’s sudden display of affection. But apart from Ana that gave you some scarce confused looks, the other two haven’t made a single comment, as if this is a completely normal situation. They barely blink when even yourself gets creeped out from Seokjin’s insistent coddling.

Which brings you to the other weird thing happening in the flat.

Jimin barely talks to you anymore.

You don’t have the slightest idea why. If you said something, or done something that offended him, you’re none the wiser. And how are you supposed to know when he barely greets you in the morning?

Every time you attempt conversation, there’s always something he has to do, which sounds completely ironic, given you were the one that kinda did the same before.

Not to cover your own ass but you did that for the sake of your friendship! If Jimin ever finds out you’re into him, you can’t bear to think the effect this might have on your friendship.

Whereas Jimin might as well be angry over such a small thing as you using his earbuds.

It wouldn’t have bothered you that much if it wasn’t for Dinah.

Well, she barely does anything, it's just that Jimin always goes to her when he has the chance. Nights spent with all five of you together munching on popcorn in front of the TV, turn into awkward gatherings as Ana and Hoseok pair up against you and Seokjin, leaving the two of you cringing whenever the couple does something too coupley.

At New Year’s Eve, he practically admitted he wasn’t that much into her anymore and now he’s always with her. Did he lie back then? And if so why?

Everything is wrong and you don’t know how to fix it.

If only Jimin hadn’t begun dating Dinah, none of this would’ve happened. You wouldn’t have realised you liked him, he wouldn’t have spent so much time with her, he wouldn’t abandon the four of you for her.

Although, a small part of you screams you would’ve realised you liked Jimin either way. It wasn’t about Dinah.

And yet you can’t help the loathing that emerges like bile in your throat when you hear her name.

Or when Jimin, after two weeks of avoiding the rest of you, announces you are to throw a dinner so you can get to know her better.

You feel the headache splitting your skull open.

.

.

It’s nearly impossible to hide your sour mood once Dinah steps into the apartment.

A switch has flipped and where there was a smile from joking around with Ana, now there’s a permanent scowl on your face as you refuse to even acknowledge the newcomer, as she greets the rest of your friends.

Once she says hello to you too, you mumble something that resembles a greeting, not even bothering to look at her direction, as Ana regards you with a warning glare.

Deep down you know most of your attitude comes from Jimin’s behaviour these last couple of days, and Dinah’s direct contribution is only at roughly 10%. But you’re stubborn, immature and putting the blame on her seems like an easy way to cope with the situation and the hurricane of feelings swirling in your mind.

No one said it’s the right one. But for now, it’s what keeps you from hiding in your bedroom and wallowing in self-pity. Not that you won’t do that later.

You result in setting the table with Hoseok in silence, not really in the mood to talk, as everyone else sits in the living room and you catch glimpses of their conversation.

Seokjin and Ana talk about a new addition Seokjin wants to put on the menu of his restaurant, while Jimin and Dinah dally on the other side of the room.

You think you’re gonna barf.

“Ugh… Y/N are you okay?”

You turn around at the voice, surprised to see Hoseok stare at you with confused and worried eyes. Shit, did he sniff out something?

“Ah, yes! Why?” you put forward your most cheery voice in the hopes it will throw him off.

“‘Cause you keep stabbing the meat with the forks…” he comments carefully, leaning a bit backwards as his worry grows, once your confused eyes meet his.

And then you look back to the meat and, surely, all the forks you were supposed to pass around the table are stabbed into the steaks on the centre of the table.

Your eyes widen as you press your lips together in horror. God, why can’t you just behave for once?

You rush to remove all the utensils, dumping them into the sink and you pick out new ones, as Hoseok keeps staring at you with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m fine!” you respond with a clipped voice and you’re not sure what Hoseok hears in your voice but he drops it, in favour of placing the napkins around the table. Though you can still feel his weirded-out stare from time to time.

Once the table is set, Hoseok calls for everyone to gather around and one by one flock to their seats.

And as you put the finishing touches, you can’t help but hear Jimin’s conversation with Dinah.

“We have ice cream for dessert, you’re gonna love this one, it’s heavenly!” he says with excitement.

“Oh, only if it’s vegan, me and regular milk don’t go along…” she jokes and as Jimin says he’ll have someone check, an idea pops into your head. A petty, childish idea but it gives you some purpose for now.

So, she’s lactose intolerant? It would surely be a shame if she were to eat normal ice cream.

And by “shame” you mean hilarious.

The little voice in the back of your head berates you for acting so immature but at this moment you desperately need this. You can be salty for one evening.

What’s the harm?

.

.

Once everyone’s plates are empty, the lot of you migrate to the living room, as you stay in the kitchen to get the ice cream out of the freezer.

Jimin told Ana to ask you to check for the ice cream some time ago, -can you believe it, he didn’t even ask you! He had to talk to Ana for god’s sake-, and you did. But just as you’d suspected it wasn’t vegan.

So your plan is good to go.

You have Seokjin help you carry the bowls of ice cream to the living room and you pass each one around as they’re expected with excited noises.

Ana almost moans at the delicious flavour and Hoseok chuckles at his girlfriend’s antics as you sit next to Seokjin and dive straight into your own bowl.

During dinner it seemed everyone got along just fine with Dinah, talking and joking together as if she’s been a part of this group for a long time. And it bothers you even more.

You also recognize her attempts to get close to you as well but really you can’t be bothered. It comes to the point where she talked to you and all you did is give her a one-word answer before turning your attention somewhere else.

Though right at this moment your attention is solely on her as she takes a scoop out of her ice cream.

“Mmm, it’s really good!” she says excitedly to a smiling Jimin, as she swoops in for another spoon.

But after a few seconds, her eyebrows scrunch in confusion, as she keeps the ice cream in her mouth, looking as if she’s trying to figure out something. You can barely contain your gloating.

“Uhm, this ice cream is vegan right?” she rushes to say, eyes growing just a bit wider with what seems like panic.

Ana turns to look at you and you answer with the most innocent look you can manage, acting like you just realised you didn’t.

“Oh, oops! I guess I forgot to check, sorry! Why, are you lactose intolerant?” you respond in the first complete sentence you’ve given her tonight, internally gloating at her misfortune.

She swallows, her eyes widen even more, traces of fear growing in them. “Ugh, no-”

What does she mean no?

“I’m allergic.”

At once every conversation ceases, all eyes resting on her, wide in shock.

Fuck.

Jimin is the first to react.

“What?! Shit. Are you okay, should we take you to a hospital?” he asks in panic, placing the ice cream as further away from her as he can while you’re left staring at her in horror.

“Well, since I can feel my tongue thwelling, I thay we thould,” she comments shaking, losing the ability to pronounce the letter “s” as more time passes.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you struggle to say, full of remorse, but no one seems to hear you as the situation goes haywire.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, this wasn’t supposed to happen!

Seokjin is immediately on his feet. “I’ll drive you there, you guys clean up here okay?” he commands urgently and as you feel the guilt overwhelming you, you stand up form your spot in an instant.

“I’ll come with!” your voice trembles as you reach for your bag while Jimin and Seokjin help Dinah out of the apartment hurriedly.

But as soon as you speak Jimin’s furious eyes are on you.

“I think you’ve done enough.”

And then he slams the door behind them.

You’re left staring at the piece of wood with trembling eyes, as Ana and Hoseok simply stare at you, Hoseok’s eyes wide in shock as yours while Ana’s are filled with disappointment.

You. Fucking. Idiot.

.

.

It’s almost four hours later when Jimin and Seokjin return, finding only Hoseok in the living room waiting for them as he asks them how it went.

But Jimin doesn’t bother answering him as he instead marches with loud, angry steps towards your room.

On the other side of the door, your nails are nearly non-existent from all the nervous thinking that has plagued your mind for the last few hours. Your texts to both of them asking how Dinah was, were left unanswered and you were left brewing in your own nerves.

Until the door opens and Jimin walks in.

You freeze in your spot once your eyes meet his and see the undecipherable expression on his face.

You only manage to mumble a guilt-ridden “hi” and he closes the door behind him as he closes his eyes and takes a deep, calming breath.

Although it seems to not do much.

“What the fuck, Y/N?!”

Your answer is immediate, full of regret. “I know, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! Is she okay?” you ask, out of your wits with panic as you wait for him to answer.

He seems too tired, too exhausted as he responds. “They gave her an antihistamine, she’ll be fine,” he says with a sigh but then his eyes are full of rage as they rest on you again. “But do you realize what might have happened if we were a bit late?! She could have died!” he yells at you, voice full of unbridled outrage as his eyes grow even more with the passing of time and you feel smaller and smaller.

“I’m sorry!-” you repeat again, feeling incredibly awful with what you’ve done, “-I thought she was just lactose intolerant, not allergic!” you say in hopes of redeeming yourself even just a bit but maybe this wasn’t the right thing to say as it seems Jimin’s anger only grows.

“This isn’t the fucking point, Y/N!”, you flinch at the volume of his voice, “The point is you've been trying to sabotage this for weeks! You think I haven't seen the side-glances and the mocking giggles?! I fucking know you don’t like her but couldn’t you just pretend for my sake? Do you have to go to such lengths to let us all know you hate her?!” he spits at you with wild eyes and you fight the urge to wrap your arms around your frame.

“I didn’t poison her on purpose…” you mumble in explanation and your eyes stare at your feet, not daring to look at him, drowning in shame.

“No, but all the other things were!” he refutes with impatience, but then he sighs. His shoulders fall down but his jaw’s still clenched. “Why can’t you just be happy for me? I know what she did better than anyone, believe me, but people are allowed a second chance, and frankly, it’s not your place to decide if she deserves it or not. All I was asking of you was to be decent towards her because I was stupid enough to think you’re my friend above everything and you’d respect my wishes!” he confesses, face crest-fallen and what you once feared, -him looking like this because of you-, has finally come true. You can feel your eyes watering but you can do nothing to stop them.

“I am your friend!” you respond desperately with pleading eyes, trying to stop him from questioning how much he means to you. If only he knew exactly how much.

“Are you really?”, he questions back, “Because the rest of the guys are my friends too and they don’t have a problem with her. It’s just you! And if you can’t accept her and be happy for me then…” he stops, eyes falling on the floor, refusing to meet your gaze and you have an awful feeling blooming in the pit of your stomach.

“...Then we’re better off as just roommates,” he delivers the final blow.

You can’t believe your ears. There’s no way, no way.

You feel your throat closing up. “...You don’t mean that…” you mumble in denial, eyes blurry and voice almost breaking at the possibility of losing your best friend.

Jimin still refuses to look at you, his lips pursed as he shakes his head. “Yeah? And you said you’ll support me no matter what so I guess we both said things we don’t mean.”

“Or I guess that was just you,” he says in a final tone, eyes serious this time on you before he turns towards your door to leave your bedroom. To leave your life.

You can’t breathe.

“Jimin-” you manage to stutter out although you feel like choking. You can’t lose him, you simply can’t.

“No, Y/N, you can’t just-!” he snaps back but stops himself before saying anything else, pressing his lips together.

Then he takes another breath. He collects himself and before you manage to stop him, he closes the door on his way out with a loud bang.

And you can’t move. Your eyes simply stare at the door, refusing to let any tear drop and you purse your lips, feeling a mixture of stubbornness and sorrow.

He left. How could he? How could he push you aside for her?! You’ve been friends for a little more than five years now and he ruins your friendship because of her?! Her?!

You rush to lock the door behind him with blurry eyes, putting the blame on him as for now you need this to stay sane.

Tomorrow you’ll know that everything was your fault.

But for now, you choose to believe otherwise.

You step back from your door, crossing your arms on your chest in defiance.

“If he doesn’t want to be friends then we won’t be!” you exclaim in an attempt to salvage your broken ego but once those words are out of your mouth, once they finally feel real, you can’t stop the tears from rolling down your cheeks.

You have to cover your mouth to drown the sound of your sobs.

You can’t let him hear.

At that moment there’s a knock on your door, before “Y/N? It’s Seokjin, can I come in?”

His voice is quiet, calm, reminding you that he and Hoseok probably heard everything. You can’t deal with it. You can’t deal with any of it.

“Go away, Seokjin…” you mumble with a low voice in order to hide the fact you’re crying.

You hear him sighing. “Come one, at least talk to me-”

“Go away!” your voice is coarse as you yell back, for a second not realising it was you. You know you're gonna regret yelling at him later, but you just want to be alone.

There’s silence on the other side. Then the echoing steps of someone leaving.

And then you break down in the middle of your room.

Alone.

The only sound coming from your quiet sobs.

.

.

{Jimin’s POV}

Keep it together. Don’t lose focus now just because she looks like she’s about to cry.

It’s easier said than done, but Jimin manages to remain focused on what he came here to do. Even if it’s just barely.

He can’t go on like this. Maybe if you were happy for him and actually supported him, things would be different. But when you act like a spoiled baby that didn’t get her wish with no excuse whatsoever when you were supposed to be okay with Dinah… there’s not much he can do.

Not when your behaviour acts as a false beacon of hope. One he can’t afford to see. Otherwise, he might do something he can’t take back.

He’s got to be firm and decisive.

So he turns around to leave before he takes it all back.

“Jimin-” he hears the breaking in your voice, knowing how much this may weigh you down but all he can feel right now is unfairness. It’s unfair how he wants to move on but with one single word he finds his resolve crumbling.

You shouldn’t affect him this much.

“No, Y/N, you can’t just-!” he begins but stops himself. What was he about to say? Something he shouldn’t, probably.

Still, you stop talking. And you just stare at him, with disbelief written in your eyes. He avoids those in favour of staying true to his words.

There’s no saying what he’ll do if he meets them.

So, he simply leaves your bedroom.

Marching through the small distance between your door and his, he can see Hoseok and Seokjin, from the corner of his eyes, staring.

They probably heard everything.

He steps into his bedroom, closing the door behind him, needing some space. To calm down, to take a breath, to finally think about what he just did.

You looked like you were ready to break down at any moment.

Maybe he shouldn’t have been that harsh with you. Maybe he was a bit too hasty, too vengeful in making that decision.

Someone knocks on his door.

What if it’s you?

His steps can’t take him to his door any faster.

But it’s just Hoseok.

“... what?” he hears himself get defensive once he sees your door still closed shut behind the other man.

Hoseok stares at him with understanding. “It doesn’t have to be like that, Jimin…” he comments with a soft voice, always knowing how to approach Jimin when he’s angry, better than anyone.

Jimin sighs, still feeling stubborn but he knows by the end of what Hoseok has to say, he’ll almost certainly listen.

“... Let’s talk about it okay? I’m sure Y/N wants that too…” at those words Jimin swears he feels a small pinch of pain on his chest. He wishes they’re true.

“Seokjin is also gonna talk to her…”

But those words manage to bring his stubbornness back full force.

There’s a chuckle coming out of Jimin but none of it sounds happy.

“Of course he will…” he snaps at Hoseok, who bites his lip once he realises his mistake. “Yeah, Hoseok, I think I’ll pass,” the bitterness is evident in his words, not bothering to hide it from the one person that knows the cause of it.

Hoseok’s eyes widen once he realises Jimin is about to close the door on him. “Wait, Jimin, don’t-”

“Goodnight,” is what Jimin simply says before closing the door on his best friend.

.

.

He can’t be sure when everything began to change. He can’t place a finger on the exact moment his feelings had changed.

On the exact moment, he fell in love with you.

Was it the moment you walked through the door as a roommate applicant? He can’t be sure. But somewhere along the way, the feelings bloomed, outgrew everything he ever felt for anyone.

He just was a bit late at realizing it.

When he woke up after you slept together and his eyes rested on you as you slept, he felt a pain in the middle of his chest. But it didn’t feel like a regular pain, it felt like his heart was expanding like he was experiencing growing pains. Because while he stared at you, he realised there was nothing else he’d rather do. You looked so serene, so at peace sleeping next to him, he never wanted the moment to end.

And that’s how he realised.

Of course, he had to push his newly-found knowledge aside when he saw you nearly going into panic mode. Just because he felt like this, didn’t mean you did too.

So he hid those feelings, playing it cool for the sake of being your friend.

But this shit was difficult when he was surrounded by you twenty-four-seven.

Right before Seokjin’s birthday he had sworn he’d finally tell you. He thought that maybe, just maybe you’d like him back, or at least he’d get to have a weight lifted off his chest.

But then he saw you hugging Seokjin…

He wasn’t trying to spy on you or anything. He was just trying to reach the bathroom when he saw you wrapping your arms around Seokjin. Around the guy you had a crush on for the past few years. It was like a stab to his stomach, even more so when he knew you weren’t really into hugs and when you did hug someone, it usually meant a lot to you.

Jimin couldn’t believe his eyes. He also couldn’t believe how much it hurt and how much he needed something to distract himself.

Or, rather, someone.

That’s how Dina came along.

He never intended to string her along this far though. At that night she was just a distraction, someone familiar who knew how to take care of him, despite everything that had transpired between them in the past.

But Dinah kept trying, kept fighting vigorously for that second chance and he couldn’t help but acknowledge how much she’d changed over the past year. So he let her back into his life, hoping that at least she’d help him forget about you.

And it worked for some time. Until that night.

Until the night you were supposed to go on a date with Seokjin and cancelled it because of him - he’s sure of it even if you vehemently denied it back then-. The night you were dressed on that tight, little, black dress, the one that reminded him of that night eight months ago and suddenly his mind was going haywire with thoughts, or rather, memories of you.

He swears he saw hunger in your eyes when his palm was on your thigh, scorching both of you at the connected spot and if it wasn’t for Hoseok’s interruption, he was sure he’d’ve lost control.

Jimin hates to admit it but that night he kept thinking of you, of your eyes, of your lips, of the way your thighs had fit around his waist back then, of the sound of his name falling from your lips as he touched himself, trying to drown his moans onto his pillow.

He couldn’t talk to you after that for a couple of days. Too ashamed, too embarrassed, too enamoured with you, he thought you’d be able to see right through him.

But once things got back to normal, they were ruined once more.

Dinah appeared at the worst of times at New Year’s. He was so close to letting you know how he feels, encouraged by your reaction when you ditched your date for him, which was another green light for him at the moment. But Dinah showed up and you were out of there before he even got a chance to explain.

Hoseok had found him then, drinking away his sorrows.

“And the worst of all is, she’s dating Seokjin, which I now realise makes me a big jerk and an awful friend as I keep trying to steal away his girlfriend,” Jimin mumbled before downing the rest of his drink.

Hoseok seemed perplexed but that might have been from the near-alcohol-poisoning he just had before Dr. Ana “nursed” him back to health. “And remind me, how are you sure she’s dating Seokjin? They haven’t told us anything yet…”

Jimin stared into his drink, already sort of tipsy on alcohol and self-pity. “Saw ‘em huggin’...” he mumbled behind the glass. Hoseok had to do a double-take at that.

“What?” Hoseok responded in disbelief. “That’s it? Dude, I do that with Seokjin all the time, that doesn’t mean I’m dating him!”

Jimin sighed in annoyance. “It was more than that okay? There was this feeling to it! I could tell it wasn’t just a simple hug!” Jimin groaned as he rubbed his face with his hand.

Hoseok rolled his eyes at his friend. “Still you can never be sure by just a hug! Have you talked to her?”

“No, I tried to but Dinah came in and she left as soon as she saw her…” Jimin admitted and Hoseok almost laughed out loud at his friend’s idiocy.

“Bro, if that isn’t a sign to talk to her, then I’m not dating the most bomb person in the whole ass world.”

Jimin wasn’t impressed as he cocked an eyebrow at his friend.

Hoseok wasn’t deterred. “I can see you have an objection here and it’s a complete disgrace to Ana’s name, so Imma pound you to logic city later, you limp dick, but right now you need to talk to Y/N!” he concluded as he shoved Jimin out of his stool.

Jimin groaned as he stood up, but as his eyes fell to the bottom of his drink, he realised Hoseok was right. He should’ve talked to you first. Maybe he had misunderstood and there was nothing going on with Seokjin.

And right then as he saw you bumping into Seokjin, he figured it was a great opportunity to find out what was happening between the two of you from both parties involved.

But as his steps got him closer and closer, he saw you kiss him.

He froze. He couldn’t look, couldn’t bear, but still, his eyes stayed glued to the both of you as your arms circled around his neck to press him closer.

Jimin felt like vomiting.

He turned around right then and there and walked away. He needed to get out of there. He gave Dinah a half-assed apology as he also sent her on her merry way and he left for his apartment. He couldn’t even tell Hoseok why he was leaving the party, only announcing his departure and disappearing.

It was the first time in years he spent New Year’s alone.

He hated it.

.

.

{Y/N’s POV}

You’ve done the worst sleep in ages.

You rub your eyes, immediately regretting it when the slightest touch has them stinging from how swollen they are from all the crying.

Right. It wasn’t just a dream.

You drag your feet begrudgingly across the floor to the bathroom to splurge some water on your face, in a futile attempt to calm down your puffy eyes. Before you’re off to the kitchen where Hoseok is currently eating his breakfast cereal.

Once he hears the sound of footsteps, he raises his head, only to see you awkwardly walk in the kitchen, eyes downcast as you go for the fridge.

“Hey,” you hear him say.

With your face facing the inside of the fridge you take a breath, letting the low temperature calm you down.

You knew it was coming. Hoseok definitely listened to everything along with Seokjin. And yet you don’t feel like replying.

Nonetheless, you turn around and acknowledge him with a tilt of your head as you move to have the coffee machine working.

“So… How you feeling?”

The question prompts a humourless chuckle out of you and Hoseok sighs in response.

“I know, that’s a lousy question. I just…” he takes a breath, eyes gentle on you, not at all judgemental as you’d expect them, after what you’ve done yesterday, “I mean I know Jimin’s side of the story, but I never heard yours…” he concludes, letting a soft smile take over his features.

Huh. Your side of the story.

You swallow the lump in your throat, but the words don’t come out. Instead, you resolve to looking down at the floor as your hands grab tightly at your empty cup.

Hoseok, sensing your hesitation, sighs resigned but he doesn’t push you on it.

A moment passes when both of you remain silent until your coffee is ready. You pour the liquid into your cup, almost moaning in relief you don’t have to stay here another second.

But before you get to leave Hoseok speaks up again.

“I know things may look like a mess right now but I’m sure this won’t be the case forever. Jimin… yeah, he’s mad but you're his best friend. He’s gonna change his mind soon…” Hoseok’s gentle words reach you and, oh god, how do you want to believe them.

You turn to look at him and see the hope written in his eyes.

You give him what might have resembled a smile if you weren’t feeling so beat-down.

“You didn’t see the way he looked at me Hobi…” you whisper and Hoseok’s face falls just a bit at how broken you sound.

“Things will change, I’m certain of it,” still he replies, eyes full of determination that make the slightest sliver of hope go through the cracks of your sorrow.

Right then another pair of footsteps echoes as Jimin walks into the kitchen.

His sudden arrival has you both freeze, eyes resting on the newcomer and while Hoseok keeps on looking at Jimin, you’re quick to avert your gaze, the lump in your throat growing.

A second passes where Jimin doesn’t move forward or backwards. Like he isn’t sure if you could be in the same room anymore after yesterday's events. Your heart pangs at the thought.

He coughs awkwardly.

“I didn’t know you were awake, I can come back later-” he begins softly, eyes avoiding yours as well, making the pain grow a little sharper.

“No, it’s okay, I was done anyway…” you interrupt him, hands gripping tightly at your steaming cup as if it is a life board.

And without another word, you’re out of the kitchen.

.

.

{Hoseok’s POV}

A week passes by and it seems there’s no hope for reconciliation on the horizon.

Both of you went the extra miles and rearranged your schedules to avoid each other as much as possible. Jimin spends nearly every night at Dinah’s, barely seeing the others and you spend days locked into your room under the pretence of writing, but really you’re just avoiding everyone.

The rest of the guys don’t know what to do anymore.

It’s a Friday afternoon when Hoseok is over at Ana’s place, the mood in his apartment too heavy to bear and he can’t bear this anymore.

“Babe, I’m back, they didn’t have any vinegar chips so I bought oregano instead. Can you imagine the disgrace?” he shouts as soon as he steps back into the apartment, after a small walk to the seven eleven down the street.

But instead of hearing his girlfriend’s welcoming back, he hears her sigh. Then he sees her walk around the corner from the kitchen with her phone pressed to her ear like she’s in a conference call.

“I still don’t understand why won’t you just tell him!” Ana speaks on the phone, sending a tired wave to her boyfriend who looks at her entirely confused.

Hoseok just takes his shoes off and plops himself on the couch, sensing Ana won’t be done with that phone call anytime soon.

There’s a silence from her side as she listens intently to what the other person is saying. Hoseok decides to open the bag of chips just to keep his hands occupied.

After a while, Ana talks again.

“But what if she doesn’t tell him?” she? First, she mentioned a “him” and now a “she”? Hoseok’s getting more confused by the second.

“And what about Jimin then? Doesn’t he deserve to know the truth?” her voice is stern, like a mother berating her child and a sound of understanding leaves Hoseok’s lips, as he concludes Ana is talking to you.

There’s a small silence from your side, indicating no response to Ana’s question and so she keeps talking.

“And I’m talking about the whole truth Y/N.”

Hoseok’s intrigued. What whole truth?

“I know I was the first person to be against telling him about your feelings but with how poorly you handled the situation, I don’t think you can possibly make anything worse!”

At that, Hoseok’s eyes blow wide open. Feelings?! What feelings?! 

He’s immediately up, approaching Ana with quick steps as she listens to your response. Your voice, even though muffled through the phone, sounds weaker, sadder. Disheartened.

Ana’s words are softer now. “But you’ll never be able to do this. You’ll never be ready but, the truth is, no one ever is. That’s kinda how it goes and that’s okay. But you gotta do it at some point, sooner or later,” she talks to you calmly, Hoseok sensing her sorrow at hearing you like this.

But he can’t shake the feeling that he can somehow help if he finds out what those feelings are.

Ana sighs tiredly as if what she just said didn’t have much of an impact. “Y/N-” but before she gets to respond you hang up.

Ana gasps while staring at her phone. “She just hung up on me, I can’t believe it, how dare?” she says to no one in particular as she rubs her hands on her face tiredly.

“Tough luck?” Hoseok comments wrapping his hands around her waist. Ana welcomes the embrace, her hands winding around his neck as she rests her head on his shoulder.

“She just won’t listen! She’s so infuriatingly stubborn and it’s driving me nuts!” she blows a stray hair out of her face, accidentally tickling Hoseok’s skin in the process and he chuckles.

“Kinda like you then?” he teases as he finally pushes that stray lock behind her ear and she pokes out her tongue at him in retaliation before falling into peaceful tranquillity.

Hoseok hates to disrupt this but he has to ask her what all of those things meant. For the sake of Jimin.

“Hey, babe…” he begins and Ana hums in acknowledgement.

“When you talked about Y/N’s feelings…” he feels her stiffen in his embrace but nonetheless he carries on, “... what did you mean?”

Ana takes a breath. “I guess there’s no point in not telling you now…” she speaks softly before taking another breath, one Hoseok holds until he hears her answer.

“Y/N… she likes Jimin. Well I mean that’s what she says anyway. I think it’s way more than that…” Ana admits sadly but Hoseok’s mind goes into overdrive.

“Are you serious…?” he asks in what can be perceived as a calm demeanour but in reality, his head is about to explode.

Ana chuckles calmly, still in Hoseok’s embrace. “I know right?”

Oh my god, they’re both idiots, he thinks. But he has to do something now.

“Oh god, those giant baboons!” he almost yells, making Ana flinch and take a step back to look at him perplexed.

“Hoseok…?”

He laughs incredulously as he takes a step back, trying to process the situation.

“For how long?” he asks and Ana looks more weirded out by the second.

“Two months, give or take?” Ana responds with narrowed eyes.

Hoseok chuckles. “That’s…” when Jimin started going out with Dinah, of course, it all makes sense!

“Seriously our friends are the worst idiots ever!” he complains once more.

“Okay, now do you mind telling me what’s going on?” she retaliates, getting irritated with her boyfriend and his tendency of not explaining anything for the dramatics.

“Jimin likes her back!” he shouts out loud, the magnificence of what he found out too overwhelming to bear.

Ana’s eyes widen. “What? How can that be? What about Dinah?”

Hoseok narrows his eyes at her. “He began dating her again after that one night stand that only happened because he saw Y/N hugging Seokj- Wait! What about Seokjin?”

Ana seems confused. “What about Seokjin?”

“Isn’t Y/N dating him?”

Ana almost bursts out in giggles. “What? No! Of course not! Why would you think that?”

“Cause of the hug!”

“So what, a simple hug means automatically they’re dating each other?”

“Well, we all know Y/N hates hugs, plus she had a crush on him so it would be believable- Wait, that’s not the point. So Y/N isn’t dating Seokjin?”

“Nope. Never did,” Ana concludes as both of them fall into the same realization.

“So Jimin did all that stuff…” Ana begins, not quite believing the absurdity of the situation.

“...Because he thought Seokjin was dating Y/N,” Hoseok admits tiredly.

“We gotta tell Jimin,” Ana grabs her phone to punch in his number before Hoseok stops her.

“Wait…” he stares at the phone, the cogs in his mind whirling before his eyes light up.

“I got a better idea.”

.

.

{Jimin’s POV}

Sweat still drips down his forehead as Jimin bids goodbye to his students, after the end of his contemporary class. He reaches for his water bottle and heads for the teachers’ lounge where his stuff is before he gets to his last class.

He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand before pressing the now lukewarm bottle on the nape of his neck, to get some sort of relief.

Once again, his focus wasn’t entirely on the class. It has been like that ever since your fight, but at least it started getting better as time passed. Still not at its best though.

He finds himself feeling guilty more than he thought he would. Guilty towards you, towards Dinah. It’s a mess.

Admittedly, he was really mad at you but as he got to think it over, he realised he acted too rashly in cutting you off. And he misses you already.

But the thing is… you haven't made a move to reconcile either. That could be because you’re afraid of him pushing you away again. But shouldn't you make the first step? If you did, Jimin is sure he would forgive you on the spot.

He shakes his head tiredly as he enters the teachers’ lounge and reaches for his backpack. Everything’s a mess.

And then there’s Dinah. Dinah who’s changed, who’s kind and understanding. Dinah who he strings along and who’s possibly already aware of Jimin’s use of her as a distraction. They both know that, even though Dinah’s changed and everything’s seemingly fine, the relationship is doomed this time around as well.

Although this time it’s Jimin’s fault.

He needs to come clean to her. He has to end this.

Right then his phone begins ringing.

Once he sees the contact name, he’s a little less willing to answer it.

“What do you want?” is his response once he picks up and there’s an awkward chuckle at the other end before the caller finally replies.

“Whoa, okay, forward, can’t you buy me a drink first, champ?” Seokjin tries to make the tension disappear unsuccessfully, resulting in Jimin not even answering that particular quip.

He hears Seokjin sigh on the other side, before “Anyway, can’t I just call my friend to see how he’s doing? It’s been a while since the last time we talked…” the other man admits cautiously and Jimin’s defensiveness slowly ebbs away to give place to additional guilt. He’s the one blowing off all his friends because he wants space. Or more precisely, he thinks, because he’s a coward, too afraid to really deal with the situation, so instead picking the easy way out, at the expense of his friends.

He rubs his face with his hands, before letting out a breath. “Yeah, I know, things have been kind of…” Jimin trails off but Seokjin hums, as if he understands what Jimin means without him having to say it out loud.

“Yeah…” Seokjin agrees quietly and Jimin feels more horrible as time goes by. When did he begin to feel such animosity towards his friend? They used to be really close ever since they worked together at the same shift, and now Jimin can barely be in the same room as him. It’s not Seokjin’s fault in any way and the truth is Jimin’s animosity arises not towards Seokjin but more towards himself.

He has stuff he needs to work on.

“Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about…” comes Seokjin’s response that has Jimin sitting up straight in his seat, terrified of what his friend wants to talk to him about.

And it seems his fears were not unjustified.

“How long have you liked Y/N?”

There it is.

Jimin takes a breath, panic trying to take over him but he wills it to go away and answer his friend. Even if he’s terrified to do so.

“I…” he begins, audible shakiness colouring his voice, “... how do you know?”

Seokjin doesn’t hesitate to answer. “Hoseok told me…”

Jimin takes another breath, one full of guilt.

“Look, I… I’m sorry, I didn't mean for it to happen, it just did! And I know it’s awful of me to have done this but, yeah, for some time I had thought of acting on it. But now that I know for certain you’re together, I wouldn’t even dream of-”

“First of all, Y/N and I are not together.” Seokjin interrupts the babbling idiot and Jimin stops mid-sentence.

He blinks, uncertain. “I… what?”

Seokjin sighs with a chuckle. “Y/N and I aren’t dating,” he repeats.

Jimin opens his mouth like a fish, in complete and utter shock. “But… but I saw you…” he states full of doubt, almost like a question.

He can almost hear Seokjin raising his eyebrow. “You saw us doing what?”

The lump in his throat doesn’t make this any easier. “I saw you kissing a-a-aand-and hugging!” he retaliates, trying to support his reasoning.

Seokjin sighs once more, the gesture coming off him naturally by now. “Okay, she kissed me because she wanted to avoid a dude she ghosted, I had little to no say in this!” Seokjin responds in a typical Seokjin fashion.

But Jimin has more questions. “A dude she ghosted?”

“Yeah, she was supposed to go on a date with this guy in my restaurant but blew him off for some reason…”

Wait.

“When was this?” Jimin asks, eager but nervous to find out the answer.

“A couple of days before Christmas.”

So that wasn’t a date with Seokjin but just a rando?

God, Jimin has fucked up big time.

“And what about the hug?” he asks for the last time, to make sure he resolves any misunderstanding.

“What hug? Oh, you mean on my birthday? Dude, that was just her coming clean about her past crush on me and us moving past this like a couple of adults.”

Jimin’s throat constricts uncomfortably but in unbelievable hope. “Past crush?”

Seokjin’s smile is nearly audible. “Yeah, “past”. Know why? Because she has feelings for someone else.”

And just as easily as Seokjin has given him hope, he just as easily rips it away.

“Oh…?” Jimin barely manages to utter, voice almost breaking alongside his heart. “Who?”

Seokjin groans on the other side, taking Jimin wholly by surprise by the irritated tone in the older man’s voice. “Oh my god, you really are both idiots,” he says almost to himself, “You, you soggy tit! Do you really think she did all that to Dinah simply because she didn’t like her? No, she was fucking jealous!” Seokjin concludes, voice rushed and angry to berate his friend and finally put an end to this huge mess.

But Jimin hears only one word.

You.

She has feelings for you.

The girl he’s been in love with for nearly a year now, if not more, has feelings for him. Reciprocated feelings.

Is this real? Is this a fucking dream from which he’ll wake up in the morning, feeling shittier than ever?

But Seokjin said she was jealous. Jealous.

“She- She was? Seokjin, just…” he stops himself to take a calming breath, refusing to believe this just yet, “Please, don’t joke about this, I’m not gonna laugh,” he warns his friend. He can’t bear to have his heart messed with any more than it already has been.

“Does it sound like I’m joking? Believe me, I wouldn’t, we’re all too invested in your shit, it’s not healthy.”

Jimin can’t believe this. He wants to, desperately, but what if it’s not real? What then?

“I…” he swallows his nerves, “She really has feelings for me?” he asks, not unlike a hopeful child. God, his heart is about to burst.

“Yeah, buddy, I know it’s hard to believe when I exist!” Seokjin tries to lighten up the mood with a joke.

Jimin doesn’t laugh.

“...Too soon? Sorry, anyway, I thought you should also know Y/N really feels awful for everything and if there’s one thing that can confirm that, is the fact she apologized to Dinah,” Seokjin concludes carefully.

Jimin doesn’t know how to respond.

“But if you don’t believe me… Ask Y/N herself.”

But he knows what to do.

.

.

{Y/N’s POV}

You’re washing the dishes, alone at home for another hour at the very least as Jimin’s classes end in one hour.

Should you go to Ana’s? Ugh, but Hoseok is there.

Maybe you should just hole yourself up in your room for the scarce time Jimin will be here before he’s off to Dinah’s.

Which reminds you of earlier today.

In Dinah’s defence, she handled your apology quite gracefully, in contrast with you. You were a babbling mess, trying to put your thoughts into place and at first, she was suspicious of you, but once your visit made sense, she seemed to understand. Something even you couldn’t at times.

She accepted your apology with a calm smile, confusing you even more as she said she appreciated your effort to put all of this behind you.

You were glad she seemed to not hold it against you although, honestly… you don’t think you deserve it.

You have no idea if she’s planning on telling Jimin or not and quite frankly you’re terrified of what he’ll say if he finds out.

Once you’re done with the dishes and close the tap, you hear the front door open and close, assuming it’s Hoseok back from Ana’s.

“Hobi, is that you?” you ask before turning around, only to almost choke on your own breath when you see Jimin instead.

He’s standing just in front of the door, not going forwards or backwards, as his eyes stare at you. Serious, careful but calm. No anger residing in them. Just awkwardness as he seems to not know what to do with himself, as he simply rests in place and somehow a tiny drop of hope begins to bloom.

“I… Don’t you have classes?” is the first thing you manage to get out of your mouth and he takes a breath.

“I had to get out early…” he responds and you can’t help but focus on the “had to”. Did Dinah talk to him after all?

“...Why?” is your careful question, when in reality your mind is in a state of disarray. Is this a good sign? A bad one? Is he here to restore your friendship to what it used to be or finally cut ties with you and move out?

Your mind is gonna short-circuit.

“I…” he begins, eyes falling to the floor. Then he takes another breath. “I had to talk to you,” he says.

Oh god. This is it. You’re done.

Your throat closes up as you blink quickly trying to stop your eyes from welling up. Damnit, you already cried so much about this, you shouldn’t have any more tears left!

He takes a tentative step forward, eyes finding yours once again. But they look… soft, tender. Apologetic.

“I… I’m sorry. For the way I acted,” he breathes out and your eyes widen, having to do a double-take to make sure you heard right. “I was too harsh on you, basically taking out my nerves on you and even though what you did was awful, I shouldn’t have taken such drastic measures. I took it too far by saying we shouldn’t be friends and I’d like to take it back if you want to…” he concludes, observing you cautiously.

You’re left staring at him like a deer caught in headlights. Is he serious? Did he just apologize to you like he was the one at fault?

“Jimin, oh my god, you shouldn’t have to apologize, I should!” you rush to say, instinctively grabbing his hands to soothe him, completely missing the taken aback turned loving look in his eyes.

“I acted way out of line and truth be told I think I needed that as a wake-up call. You were right, what kind of friend am I if I don’t try to get along with the girl you’re dating?” you continue, too self-conscious to be able to look Jimin in the eye, instead staring at your joined hands with a new kind joy.

You got your best friend back. And if keeping him means you have to bury your feelings for him, then you’ll do it. For real this time. Whatever it takes to not lose him again.

Jimin chuckles in response. “Used to date,” he corrects you.

This time though you can’t help it when your eyes snap back at him. “What? What do you mean?”

Where you expected to be a sorrowful expression, there is none. Instead, Jimin is looking at you with a soft smile, a serene one, one that matches the peace in his eyes. “We broke up,” he says and you can’t find the proper words to react to this.

“Oh… H-how so?” you say instead, unwillingly holding your breath.

Jimin’s eyes rest on your face for a moment, that damned smile still gracing his lips, before his eyes fall to your hands. “I guess you helped me realise some things with what you did,” is his cryptic response.

But before you get to question his answer his eyes turn stern, with a note of mischief hiding in their corners. “That does not mean what you did was okay, though,” he says, pointing his finger at you like a teacher disciplining a child and you chuckle at his attempt of lightening up the mood.

“Believe me, I know. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive myself…” you respond, rubbing a hand awkwardly at the base of your neck, still awfully aware of your other hand still connected to Jimin’s.

“Well…” he says quietly, his eyes on your joined hands, “Good thing I did then…” he mutters, his thumb running over the back of your palm soothingly and once your eyes meet his, you know you’ll be okay.

.

.

After that talk with Jimin, -that ended with the both of you watching Space Jam and cuddling to sleep-, everything is once again back to normal. The past week has been amazing compared to the one before it. You find yourself smiling all the time as your friendship with Jimin is back to its prime, laughter and joy returning to your shared apartment.

Your group returns back to its routine, hanging out together in front of the TV, roasting Hoseok for his abundant sexual energy, you know, the usual.

And yet you feel like something’s changed. More particularly, with Jimin.

You catch his eyes on you more than once, more than what could be considered normal but ever since you made up the two of you haven’t been left alone once. The guys are always around and, really, it’s not like you don’t want them to be but there’s always something hanging from Jimin’s mouth, something he wants to say but never does due to their presence. It’s slightly unnerving, reminding you of that night outside your bedrooms when he wanted to say something but didn't.

You can’t tell if it’s good or bad. All you know is suddenly your knees shake when he looks at you for too long and you have goosebumps whenever his skin touches yours.

So that’s why tonight you chose to sit on the lone armchair as he sits next to Hoseok on the big couch and Ana is placed next to Seokjin on the small one.

Somehow the conversation managed to go on that New Year’s party and Seokjin ended up spilling about your kiss.

“You said “we take this to the grave”!” you respond with a low voice, trying to mimic him unsuccessfully as Ana and Hoseok stare at you with eyes wide as saucers. Jimin, for some reason, looks unresponsive to the news yet he laughs at your bad impression of Seokjin.

Seokjin at least has the decency to look guilty as Ana’s scandalized eyes turn to you. “You kissed?!”

You raise your hands in defence, for some reason avoiding to look over at Jimin. “I didn’t do it on purpose! Well… I kinda did but not with the motive you’d assume,” you rush to explain, though Ana is less than satisfied.

“Oh then with what motive? Please amuse me, hoe,” she responds, crossing her hands on her chest and you huff out in annoyance.

Seokjin answers her. “Well, obviously, she wanted a piece of all that. I’m pretty irresistible to all humankind,” he jokes lightly and you suppress a snort.

“Yeah, no, this ain’t it, chief,” you rush to say, suddenly nervous, not wanting anyone to think you’re still into Seokjin.

Actually, replace “anyone” with just “Jimin”.

Seokjin gasps in offence. “What in the world do you even mean?! You’re lucky I kissed you and not just because you got rid of that dude! I’m a pretty good kisser, no scratch that, I’m an excellent kisser, a connoisseur of kissing if you will!”

“I think I won’t be able to kiss anyone after that…” Hoseok responds which makes Seokjin gasp once more before he looks over at you.

“Y/N, tell them the truth. How my kissing is so utterly magnificent, it could end world hunger!” he says before actually hearing what he just said then deciding against it, “Nope, can’t do that, sorry, that’s on me.”

You chuckle at his antics, although a bit reluctant to actually reveal the truth.

“Actually…” you start.

Another gasp resonates. “Don’t “actually” me! Just tell them!”

You turn to the other guys with a roll of your eyes.

“Look, it’s not like you were a bad kisser per se. It’s just that it was a bit… lackluster?” you finish, almost afraid to see Seokjin’s reaction to the reveal.

Jimin suppresses a chuckle, Hoseok oohs from the side and Ana’s eyes widen in surprise.

Seokjin looks at you with disbelief.

“Lackluster?”

You rush to make amends. “I mean it’s okay given I took you by surprise, but due to that crush I used to have on you, I had this notion of a kiss full of passion. And that one just… didn’t have it.” 

Seokjin pouts angrily at you before crossing his arms on his chest as Ana pats his shoulder soothingly. “I can’t believe you just said my kiss didn’t have any passion.”

You shrug. “Well, it didn’t,” you say as a matter of a fact before Ana jumps into the conversation.

“It’s probably a good thing your kiss didn’t have any passion, it just means your friends. No chemistry there so don’t beat yourself up too much, champ,” she says with an affectionate pinch on Seokjin’s cheek, who ponders on her input.

“Yeah, Ana is right!” you rush to agree. “It’s because we’re just friends! When you find someone you really like, believe me, it’ll be nothing like that,” you go off track a bit as certain memories reappear. “It’ll be full of passion and yearning and not getting enough of each other, you’re not sure if you can go on without kissing them!”

And somehow by the end of that, your eyes fall on Jimin’s and stay there.

Because he stares back.

“Okay, I think we heard enough about Seokjin’s kissing techniques,” Ana comments, breaking the spell and your eyes fall to your lap, fire residing in your cheeks.

“I just have one last comment on what I think Seokjin could’ve used but didn’t cause he’s a wuss,” Hoseok jumps in.

“Tongue.”

A round of gagging noises is heard around the apartment.

.

.

The hours pass by smoothly and soon everyone’s getting sleepy. Seokjin leaves early, having to go to the restaurant first thing in the morning, leaving the rest of you to clean up.

Once again Jimin picks up the trash with Ana as Hoseok helps you do the dishes. The apartment falls into a comfortable silence with the occasional chatter between the four of you while you clean up. Hoseok is to sleepover at Ana’s so when you’re all done the couple bids you goodbye, heading to Ana’s apartment.

Leaving you and Jimin totally alone.

Which is something that shouldn’t scare you but for some reason your nerves are going through the roof.

“Are you done with the kitchen?” Jimin asks from the living room, where he’s rearranging the pillows on the couch.

“Yeap! Just finished!” you call back, your voice a bit higher than usual and you cringe internally before clearing your throat.

“Good, I’m going to bed then,” he responds as you walk out of the kitchen.

“I’ll walk with you,” you respond with a smile, following him into the corridor.

You walk in comfortable silence, but still, you find yourself getting nervous as you walk side by side. It doesn’t make any sense.

Once you reach your bedrooms, both of you turn around to face each other, seemingly unwilling to depart just yet. Jimin looks at you with a soft smile as you grab at the opportunity to talk to him.

“Jimin, I just… I’m really happy we got past that and again I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused,” you say in what seems like the hundredth apology this week.

Jimin’s smile grows fonder as he shakes his head gently. “I told you, you should stop apologizing, I’m no longer mad at you,” is his quiet reply as he tilts his head, his eyes staring at you in a way it makes your heart race.

“I know I just… That week we spent not talking to each other was the worst week of my life and I…” you pause searching for the right words, but no words could ever describe the magnificence of what you’re feeling right now, the desperation of wanting to have him in your life. So you simply stare at him, out of breath, hoping he gets it.

His smile is one of the best things you’ve ever seen and you know he does.

You smile back. “Anyway, I’ve gotten too sentimental…” you chuckle, clearing your voice to sound more collected.

Jimin giggles softly. “Happens to the best of us…” he responds gently and you have to remind yourself to not stare. Even if he does and it makes you feel out of breath.

You nod with a smile. “Well…” you respond nervously, yearning for the moment you’re alone in your room, free of all this tension. “Goodnight,” you say simply, turning around to get to your door.

But a hand wraps itself around your wrist, turning you around suddenly. Your hands naturally fall to Jimin’s chest as his palms wrap around your waist and hair as his lips fall fervently on yours.

Your mind goes into overdrive and you can only kiss him back.

His plump lips wrap around your own softly but with an intense sense of urgency, a soft gasp falling from your lips as your hands are quick into grabbing his shirt to pull him unbelievably closer. You respond with just as much hunger, letting your mouth move fervently against his own, pushing more and more against him, aiding his hand that’s tangled in your hair, gripping the locks as if he can’t get enough. Then both of his palms are on the small of your back, holding you close as if fearing you’ll leave. But you never do and that makes him press more against you until your back hits the wall next to your door.

The impact makes Jimin lean back just enough to stop the kiss, but his eyes still remain glued to the image of your swollen lips, as you almost lean after his own.

Your heavy breaths mingle in the otherwise quiet corridor, his hands still on your waist, yours still on his open shirt as you try to wrap your mind around what just happened.

“Did you mean something like that?” comes out his gruff, deep voice that sends a shiver down your spine.

His question brings you back to the earlier conversation about a perfect kiss and you can’t control your breathing any more than your beating heart.

You nod quickly, eyes still on his lips. “Yes,” is your breathless answer.

Jimin’s still breathing heavily as his eyes land once again on your lips.

“Good.”

And then he’s kissing you again.

And, fuck, you can’t get enough.

Your palms land on his neck as you stand on your toes to reach him better and his hands wrap around your waist to keep you in place.

Fuck, you’re kissing him. You’re kissing him and he’s kissing you back. As if he’s a man starved of your kiss and he needs anything you can give him.

But then he stops again and you almost groan out loud.

“You need to stop doing that…” you exhale with an affected chuckle and he chuckles as well.

“I just… I need to talk to you before anything else happens….” he whispers and even though you know he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, you can’t help but feel a pang of fear in your chest.

“I…” he says, eyes dazedly looking at your face before he takes an encouraging breath.

“I want you to know that this isn’t like last time. It’s more, it means more, I-” he stops once more, voice trembling as he refuses to look anywhere else but you.

His words give you hope but for the first time in weeks, you welcome that hope. You welcome that glorious feeling to settle deep in your chest because you recognize that warm glint deep in his eyes.

“I’m in love with you,” he reveals and you swear your heart will burst. There’s moisture in your eyes but you will it to go away.

“You are…?” you ask with a small voice and Jimin smiles at you, all happiness and comfort. There’s a fuzzy feeling in the middle of your chest and at this moment nothing makes any more sense than you two.

“Yes. And I spent the past year trying to run from it…” he admits carefully as he slightly crouches down to meet your eyes.

“I’m not running anymore…” he concludes, a spark in his eyes and you’ve never seen him more sure for anything in his life.

There’s a whirlwind of emotions in you. Relief, hope, undeniable joy. It makes your throat close and for a few seconds, you can’t answer him. You only stare back and hope he understands like so many times before.

“I-” you manage to choke out with a weak voice but he’s quick to shush you, before kissing the inside of your palm.

“I know…” he responds softly, still holding onto your palm as his eyes find yours. You can’t look away, couldn’t if you wanted to.

And then you can’t stop smiling, and he’s smiling back and before you know it you’re kissing again.

Happiness rolls like a current between, from all the places your bodies touch, you can’t contain it so you keep on kissing fervidly, hands touching whenever they can, mouths moving in tandem like it’s natural. Like it’s the way it’s supposed to be.

“God, I have so much I want to tell you…” he whispers against your lips before he’s diving back in, tongue reaching out to meet yours.

“Me too…” you reply after a few seconds, pushing him closer as your fingers tangle in his hair. “But not now…” you whisper sternly, pushing your chest against him, needing to feel more of him.

He curses under his breath, the sound sinful, licking his lips before he’s kissing you again and his hands fall lower down your back to rest over the swell of your ass.

You moan in appreciation when his hands grab at the tender flesh, making you arch out so he has better leverage. There’s a throbbing between your legs and you resist grinding on him just yet, to drag it out as long as you can.

Jimin’s lips move down the column of your throat as his body cages you against the wall, hands keeping your hips still as he wedges one leg between yours, so his thigh can press upright against your mound.

You moan again when he leaves a particularly deep hickey on your skin and your hips instinctively roll against his thigh, your hands holding on to his back afraid you might fall.

He chuckles darkly against your skin. “Still into thighs I see…” he mumbles before biting softly at your earlobe, a shiver running down your spine.

You bite your lip before, “Correction, still into your thighs…” you admit as you roll your hips slowly on top of his thigh, starting to feel that delicious warmth building up in your stomach, making you feel dizzy.

Jimin almost bucks into you with a low moan, as his hands are certain to leave marks on your hips as he struggles to remain sane.

“Fuck… Although I’m really tempted to just fuck you here, we should probably move…” he murmurs between kisses to your collarbone and you have half a sane mind to agree. The other half is already picturing him doing it either way.

But before you get to move, his arms are quicker, lunging under your thighs and you instinctively wrap them around his waist with a surprised yelp. His palms are resting right on top of your ass, subconsciously pushing you closer, making your insides burn in anticipation.

There’s a smirk on his lips as he licks them, eyes roaming your face to make sure you don’t have second doubts. Although your eyes are glued to the movement of his wet tongue.

When he realises this, he’s quick to move towards his room as you choose now as the perfect moment to lick and suck bruises on his neck, not able to deny yourself any longer.

“Shit… Y/N, if you keep this up I’m gonna drop you…” he mumbles with a stern but clearly-affected voice and you smile in victory before softly biting at his skin, savouring his taste on your tongue.

He kicks his door open before he carefully lays you on his bed, lips immediately after your own as you reach for his neck to desperately press more of him against you.

Your palms move down his chest, grabbing the edges of his flannel to push it off his shoulders, leaving him in his T-shirt and jeans.

“Why are you wearing so many clothes…?” you ask breathlessly, immediately reconnecting your lips like a woman starved and Jimin chuckles, grabbing the hem of your T-shirt instead and pushing it upwards. You sigh in relief as soon as your heated skin is free, yearning to feel more of his skin against yours.

“Just trying to keep myself warm,” he comments rushedly as he discards the piece of clothing somewhere behind him and his eyes fall to your covered breasts. He curses, lowering his face to kiss down your collarbones until his lips reach the bare top of your tits. His mouth leaves a wet trail behind that’s making you gasp as your thighs rub together to gain some relief.

Jimin notices and chuckles darkly before biting your bottom lip. “You want any help there?” he teases and you groan out loud with a pout.

“Yes, but please take your clothes off a little bit faster. It’s making my dick soft,” you whine, bucking your hips towards him.

He pins them down between his own legs, forcing them to stay still. His fingers toy with the waistband of your leggings as your breaths turn heavier while only looking at his eyes.

“Aw, so I won’t have my ass rawed by your dick? Such a shame baby…” he teases once more with a sinful smirk and the last word has your eyes rolling back into your head.

“Fuck, say that again…” you murmur, arching your chest upwards as you feel moisture gather between your legs, just by the single mention of a nickname.

Jimin laughs out loud as he moves to get your leggings off and you’re quick to aid him. “Is this really what turns you on?” he comments playfully as he leans in, lips kissing the underside of your jaw.

“No, I meant…” you stop, suddenly self-conscious, “... the other part…” you mumble quietly, turning your face to the side, knowing a deep red has taken over your cheeks. It’s not simply about the nickname or the tenderness in his voice as he said it. It’s about what it represents, what you already heard from his lips but you simply can’t have enough of. It makes everything real.

Jimin regards you for a second before, “What? Baby?” he asks, rather innocently and yet you still can’t look at him, too embarrassed as you nod.

Jimin’s eyes turn softer as he bites his lip to contain his smile. Fuck, he’s so in love.

He moves to press a tender kiss to your jaw. “Baby,” he repeats slowly, before resting his lips on your collarbones and you sigh in content. “Baby…” he says again, leaving a kiss in the valley between your breasts, making your breath hitch. “Baby…” he moves lower, dragging his plump lips down your torso as your breaths quicken, the sound of the nickname having your heart making somersaults.

“Baby…” he whispers lowly one last time, the tone completely different, darker, more promising. His eyes rest on you as his face now lays above your panties. Then his hands are hooking behind the waistband, dragging the material down your legs and he bites his lips at the sight of your glistening folds.

“God, I wanna taste you so bad…” he says almost to himself and before you get to react, he hooks your legs on top of his shoulders and his tongue lands with kittenish licks on your clit.

An involuntary groan escapes you, bucking your hips into his mouth for more. And yet he maintains his pace, sending waves of pleasure up your body but never enough to get you where you want to. You can’t help the movement of your hips as you crave for more friction, his movements delicious but never enough. Jimin pins your hips down, tsking you before he presses a kiss at the junction between your thigh and cunt.

“You’ll get what you want, baby, all in due time…” he says sternly, his voice low, sending shivers down your spine as his mouth returns to your clit, and you bite your lip to drown your moan.

Though now, he leaves aside the kittenish lick to wrap his mouth around the swollen nub and suck it between his lips.

A loud moan breaks free from your lips, heavy pants resonating as his plush lips envelop your clit, finally giving you more, moving expertly against your folds and your hands find purchase on Jimin’s locks to press him more against you.

He lets you do as you please while one of his hands travels up your torso, pushing your bra’s cups down to toy with one of your nipples.

The added pleasure has you cry his name in ecstasy, losing all control of your hips as they move against Jimin’s face, as if they have a mind of their own, chasing after your high like a madwoman.

And as one hand tugs at your erect nipples, the other finds this chance to move down your body and trace around your entrance, making your pussy clench in anticipation. Before finally pushing two digits inside your velvety walls.

“Jimin!” you almost sob, your hips furiously chasing after your high as you feel the warmth building up more and more inside your stomach. 

His fingers keep thrusting inside you, slowly at first to let you get used to the intrusion, before he picks up the pace, moving them quickly, roughly inside you. Knuckles deep as his fingertips find that little soft spot inside your walls that has your eyes roll to the back of your head.

And when you open your eyes and see Jimin staring you back with darkness and lust in his own from between your legs, the band snaps.

You come with a loud moan, riding your orgasm against Jimin’s tongue, as the pleasure seems too much, too intense. But then the feeling starts to fade away and Jimin lets you relax as he leaves butterfly kisses against your thighs.

You try to catch your breath as Jimin’s kisses move upwards, up your stomach, to your breasts until he’s kissing you again. Your hands move to wrap around his neck, never having quite enough of him.

“This is not fair, you know…” you chastise him playfully, kissing his underjaw when a quiet moan rolls from his tongue.

“What’s not fair?” he asks, trying to keep up with the conversation but judging by the way his hip rut against you, you know he’s struggling.

“The fact I’m completely naked while you still have your clothes on…” you observe with a cock of your eyebrow and a smirk grazes his lips as his finger tugs at the elastic of your bra and lets it snap against your skin.

“Ah but you’re not completely naked…” he teases against your lips as his fingers move down your body in a sensual caress.

But being you, you take that as a challenge. So you push him slightly away just so you can move your hands behind your back and unclasp your bra with one movement.

Jimin’s eyes go wide as you flick the undergarment across the room, swallowing heavily before his eyes return to your bare chest.

“Now I am…” is your witty retort as you subtly arch your back just so he can have a better view. He stands there staring at you for a few seconds before he curses and moves quickly to get rid of his clothes.

You giggle at his impatience when he ends up stuck in his T-shirt, sporting an adorable pout. “Easy, baby, I’m not going anywhere…” you joke, sitting up to help him take off his t-shirt with a soft smile, one he reciprocates as he moves to unbuckle his pants.

“Well, it wasn’t me getting too impatient to- Wait…” he stops mid-sentence after taking his pants off. A spark of realization has entered his eyes before he turns to you to meet you with a teasing smile.

“Did you just call me baby?”

Your eyes widen in shock as a blush creeps into your cheeks and with a scoff you lightly shove him for daring to make fun of you.

“Y-you said it first, genius!” you try to justify yourself with a frown, but Jimin’s smirk only grows as he pushes aside his pants and crawls towards you.

“Yeah, but I’m not the one that spent more than half her life refusing to call her partners that because it’s cheesy…” he comments playfully as he traps you beneath his body once more.

“Even if the rule never applied to her…” he smiles teasingly at you, brushing his lips softly against your pout, reminding you that even if you never called your partners “baby”, you never stopped them from calling you that.

You purse your lips together as you look at your fidgeting hands, too embarrassed to look him in the eye. “Well…” you begin, swallowing the lump in your throat, “...you’re different…” you mumble quietly, not really ready to look at him even if you know he feels the same.

That has him halting, and as he sees you too uncomfortable to go on, he doesn’t say anything else. He presses a soft kiss to your knee instead, wishing to convey everything he feels as well through that small kiss.

The movement of his lips on your skin is so tender that has your heart flutter and, while he looks back at you, his smile puts your embarrassment to rest. Because he’s here for you because he feels the same.

“I know it comes a little late but… Can I kiss you?” he asks softly, eyes stuck on your face, tracing your features as if he hasn’t really seen you before, not until now.

The question has your heartbeat quicken even though it’s completely unnecessary. Though your lips stretch out in a smile as you nod.

Jimin leans closer, eyes on your lips as if he’s under some spell. You suppose it’s the same you’re under.

You let his lips envelop yours gently, hands tangling in his hair as you both find yourselves moving back until you’re lying down with Jimin on top of you.

Your hands are greedy to explore his body, even though you’ve done so before. Though that time you’re main motive was to get off, so now gives you the perfect opportunity to get reacquainted with his body, to map out every little detail to memory, until he’s the only thing you see.

His lips move lower to kiss and bite at the column of your throat, eliciting the sweetest moan from your lips that sound like music to Jimin’s ears.

Your breaths get quicker, hands moving recklessly to get rid of the remaining piece of fabric that separates you. Jimin rushes to help you, throwing away his boxers, now standing in his complete naked glory.

There’s nothing else to say, not really when a single look can convey everything you feel without unnecessary words. And the way Jimin looks at you right now makes you feel like you’re in heaven. Like you’re cared for, safe and content right here in his arms.

His hand brushes a lock behind your ear and the motion is so tender, loving, it makes your heart skip a beat.

“Are you ready?” he whispers softly, eyes gentle, ready to back off if you say so, reminding you of yet another reason you’re so helplessly in love with him.

You simply nod, too afraid to talk but your smile is all it takes for Jimin to go forward.

He grabs the base of his shaft, eyes glued at that spot between your legs with anticipation. He moves forward, guiding his tip through your folds, going slowly in case it’s painful but the look of pure bliss on your face and the way your walls welcome his cock has him losing control and going the rest of the way in with a deep thrust.

Your nails claw into the skin of his back with a loud cry while Jimin breathes deeply against the skin of your neck, making goosebumps rise on your skin.

“Fuck, I-...” he exhales, lost in the feeling of your pussy wrapping around him like a grip. “... You okay?” he says breathless, eyes searching yours for anything that’s not okay.

A breathless chuckle escapes you as you press your lips on his jawline. “More than okay. But please move.”

“Oh, thank god….” he mumbles before pulling out and thrusting in again. His movements are slow, yet the perfect pace to help you build up slowly but surely towards a second high.

Jimin rolls his hips with the expertise only a dancer could possess, driving his cock deeper and deeper with each roll, hitting that spot again and you can’t help but close your eyes to savour this feeling.

Shallow breaths leave you as his pubic bone brushes against your clit with each motion, driving you crazy.

“Ugh, you feel… mm’ so good…” he mumbles between thrusts, letting his lips land on your breasts, to suck lovebites on your skin.

“Jimin, fuck…!” you cry out, high-pitched moans escaping you as your hands go to his ass, coaxing him to drive his cock even deeper.

He growls from above your chest before you feel his palm cupping your cheek. “Open your eyes for me, love…” he mumbles quietly and you have no choice but to comply.

Opening your eyes, you’re met with Jimin’s piercing ones, staring at you intensely, burning with unspoken feelings that are too easy to recognize. After all, you feel them too.

You move to the side to kiss the inside of his palm before you smile at him.

He smiles back fondly at you before his hands move to lace his fingers with yours at each side.

“Keep your eyes on me, love…” he whispers before moving again.

This time around, his pace is slightly quicker, his cock hitting your sweet spot with renewed vigour and yet you can only concentrate on his eyes. His eyes that stare at you with such fondness and love it makes your eyes water.

You see the frown on his face before he stops moving in concern, yet you push your heels on his ass to keep him going.

“No, it’s okay, I’m okay, keep going…” you say, almost choking with the emotions overwhelming you. “It’s just that… I can’t believe I’m so lucky…” you admit softly, an unbelievable chuckle escaping you as you stare at him with what you hope he sees as undeniable adoration.

He smiles at you again, -you think you’ll never get tired of that smile-, before he leans in to kiss away the stray tear that flowed free from your eyes.

He picks up the pace once more, resting his forehead on top of yours, as shallow moans roll off your tongue. Your high keeps approaching, you can feel it and still you’re only focused on his eyes. Soft grunts escape him as he drives his hips into you, getting closer to his high as well, his hands grasping yours as if they’re a lifeboat.

He brushes his lips gently against yours before “I love you…” he mutters against you and you think your heart is gonna burst.

You press another kiss on his lips before, “I love you too.”

And then you don’t say anything else as your high approaches and after a few more thrusts you both come entangled in one another, each other’s names on your lips.

You lay like this for a few moments, with Jimin’s body on top of yours as both of you struggle to catch your breaths. Then your eyes find each other again and everything seems so clear, so right.

You can’t stop smiling at each other like lovesick fools as you fall asleep next to each other, at last content.

.

.

When Jimin wakes up the next morning he thinks it was all a dream.

But as his eyes rest on your peaceful sleeping form he knows he could never dream something as perfect as this.

He can’t help the lovesick smile taking over his lips as he looks at you through sleep-ridden eyes. He shuffles closer, resting his face on his hands to get a better look while you sleep soundly next to him. He feels like he can never get enough of you. Not now, not ever.

Suddenly your body begins moving though your eyes remain closed and Jimin figures you’re still asleep.

“Stop being creepy…” you mumble with a sleepy smile and Jimin grins too, realising he was wrong.

“I’m not being creepy…” he argues softly, still smiling. You pop open one eye to look at him unimpressed before you yawn and open both your eyelids.

“Oh, yeah, ‘cause it’s super romantic staring at me while I’m asleep, where can I find another man like that…” you tease him with a drowsy smile as your eyes find his.

He groans dramatically though his smile still remains. “You’re unbelievable…” he mumbles, his voice still gruff from sleep and you have to suppress a shiver before shuffling closer.

“I know but you love me…” you mumble against him before kissing his lips slowly. He lets himself get lost on the kiss before you lean back and he licks his lips to savour your taste.

“And now you can’t take it back!” you exclaim out loud before smiling mischievously at him.

Another groan breaks free from his lips. “Already regretting it…” he comments, checking your reaction from the corner of his eyes.

You gasp as if offended by his quip. “Well, maybe then I’ll just leave so you won’t regret it anymore!” you respond, gathering his sheet on your chest as you make a move to leave his bed.

But Jimin is faster, grabbing you by the waist and throwing you back on the bed, crawling on top of you with a predatory smile.

“Now, now, let’s not result in desperate measures…” he dives in for another kiss.

You can’t help but smile again as you kiss him, hands circling around his neck as he softly bites your bottom lip.

“Careful sir. You might trigger something dangerous here…” you whisper seductively, moving one leg so your thigh can rub against his already half-hard member.

Jimin’s smirk only grows. “Mmm, maybe I like danger…” he responds before his lips envelop yours once more. His hands travel beneath the sheet, tracing your skin before they move lower and-.

A loud bang echoes through the apartment, surprising both of you before a booming voice is heard through the walls, one that belongs to none other than Hoseok himself.

“Have you fucked yet or nah?!”

Your eyes widen, face immediately growing red. Jimin looks at you with an apologetic smile and before you get to ask why Hoseok is asking that, said man bursts into the room.

There’s a sudden explosion of sounds, you screaming as you hide beneath Jimin, Jimin cursing at Hoseok as he pulls the sheet to cover you both and Hoseok whistling at the image before him.

“Woah! You finally did it buds, I’m so happy for you!” he cheers you on as he steps inside to fist bump a very angry looking Jimin and a very visibly confused you.

“Hoseok, excuse my french, but what the fuck are you doing here?” Jimin is positively seething with his friends' interruption but as you see Hoseok basically beaming at the both of you, you can’t help but giggle at the absurd situation.

“I came to see if my buddies finally worked it out! And you did, finally! Can you imagine if you hadn’t and I’d burst through the door screaming that? That’d be awkwaaaaaaard!” he comments, too cheerful to notice Jimin’s deadly stare and you bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing.

“Right. That would’ve been awkward…” Jimin comments sarcastically though Hoseok still seems oblivious as he sits on top of the bed with a happy smile hanging from his lips.

You’re about to burst into giggles as you watch Jimin’s eyes growing wider in disbelief and you’re certain he’s gonna kill Hoseok any minute now.

“I’m so happy for you guys! My besties are finally dating!” he comments full of joy and Jimin is about to have smoke pouring out of his ears.

“Hobi, we’re happy too but I think it’d be better for you if you left…” you comment with a smile, pointing with your head at Jimin who’s about to lose it any second.

Hoseok’s eyes widen finally in realization. “Oh, whoops! Right, right, I’m leaving, keep going, stallion, show her how it’s done!” Hoseok throws finger guns at Jimin as he leaves the room and closes the door behind him.

As soon as Hoseok is out of earshot and you turn to look at Jimin you can’t help but burst into giggles by how absolutely mad he looks.

Though when you start laughing, Jimin’s incredulous stare turns to you. “Why are you even laughing?!”

Even though his ominous stare is directed at you, you can’t stop laughing. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s just too funny!” you say breathlessly through your giggles.

“Too funny?!” he asks incredulously before his gaze turns dark. His eyes have your laughter dying in your throat and instead another feeling rising up at the pit of your stomach.

“I’ll show you funny…” he whispers sinfully before he lunges forward and you forget what you were laughing at for the rest of the day.

There are more important matters to tend to.

#95line.net #btsguild #bangtan bookclub #kwritersworldnet #jimin scenario #bts scenario #bts jimin scenario #jimin fanfic #bts fanfic #bts jimin fanfic #bts #jimin #bts jimin #jimin smut #jimin fluff #jimin angst #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst

[kakashiswilloffire]

Friend Killer Kakashi

ao3

words: 2.2k

warnings: angst, mention of gore, mention of vomit, no comfort

He was ready to crawl out of his own skin. His whole body flushed with waves of heat, prickling uncomfortably in his chest, like thousands of pins jabbing both inside and outside of himself. He stopped, gripping the counter to hold himself steady while he dragged shallow breaths into his lungs. He knew he needed to take a deep breath, he was telling himself to take a deep fucking breath, even just one, why can’t he just even breathe correctly, how the fuck was he supposed—

The sound of his fist interrupted him before he’d even realized he had struck out. Knowing it would be several minutes before the pain really set in, he smacked his hand against the counter again and shook his head viciously. Silver strands, oilier than he usually let them get, stung as they met skin while the weight of his hair shifted.

He sucked air thickly into his nostrils then pawed at his nose, grimacing at the spices that overwhelmed the air around him. He tossed the pan into the sink, not caring that it still sizzled or that the oil splashed onto the cold tiles beneath him. He was trying to make pan fried eggplant to go with the premade miso soup he’d picked up last week. It had been a shitty week and he just wanted to make his favorite meal to make everything hurt a little bit less. There was no way it’d be as good as what Gai made, or whatever Dai had done when he first made it for him, but Kakashi figured it would do, and since it would be the first thing he had cooked himself all week, there should be some sense of achievement and dopamine to relish in when it was done. Unfortunately, it had gone terribly.

He couldn’t remember exactly what spices went on the eggplant. Salt, pepper, minced garlic, and then Gai would riff from there. Kakashi hated that—he was fine as long as he could follow a recipe. Gai, however, could just pour a splash of soy, or a squeeze of lemon, or even a drizzle of honey on anything and it was phenomenal, and also, unrepeatable. He could remember what the version he wanted tonight should taste like, and it didn’t matter what bottles he shook out into the pan, it never smelled right. The oil just kept popping onto his arms and hands, and the eggplant got slimier, and everything started to smell way too strong.

Kakashi Hatake, master of a thousand jutsu, and fucking garbage at cooking.

Whatever.

Running his hand along his forehead, he tried to find a single thought to focus on rather than the swirling mess in his head. Rin’s death a few months ago had hit him hard, much like he had hit her. He knew Gai hated to hear him think like that, but she would be alive if he hadn’t been there. If his hand hadn’t crushed through her chest, her ribs scraping along—

He lurched forward, the smell of the kitchen and the visceral memories getting to him at last. His shoulders jerked erratically as he retched into the tiny sink then sunk to his knees. The cold of the floor helped ground him while he wrapped his muscled arms around his stomach, leaning his head against the cabinet until the room stopped spinning.

Pathetic.

Obito would be absolutely pissed to know this was what he died for.

Gai wouldn’t be back from his mission for at least four more days. Kakashi was on a temporary leave pending the results of the investigation into Rin’s death. Ibiki had tried to reassure him the other day that unofficially it was looking good, and should turn out in his favor soon. He was almost certain to be found not at fault. Kakashi had scoffed—even if that was the official ruling, her murder was entirely his fault.

While they weren’t living together, Gai had taken it upon himself years ago to have a spare key, or maybe several spare keys, to his apartment copied and he kept one in a pocket in that garish green spandex at all times. With everything going on, Gai had been by every other day or so that he was in the village. The couch still had a crumpled blanket at one end he had used the last time he stayed overnight, and the one throw pillow with the Hatake crest that Gai wouldn’t let him get rid of. He tossed it out of his way as he flopped down on his back, letting his legs kick up and rest over the top of the dingy couch.

Why did anyone bother with him? Why would Ibiki go to the effort of leaking confidential information about his investigation to him? Why would Asuma invite him out for drinks every Friday night? Why would Kurenai and Genma leave bottles of sake in his mailbox with notes that everything would be fine? Why would Gai.. anything relating to him?

He couldn’t even hold the memories back long enough to successfully make dinner. He hadn’t even reheated the miso soup, and that was only two steps. He couldn’t save Obito, he couldn’t save Rin, he couldn’t convince Gai to leave well enough alone.

What if Gai was next?

Fuck.

He couldn’t let Gai be next. There were a lot of things he had failed at, but damned if he wouldn’t succeed in this. He could not, under any circumstances, let Gai any closer, any further into his life. The further away he could get the overly-enthusiastic shinobi, the better.

He nodded, swinging his legs around to the edge of the couch and letting that propel him into a seated position from which he sprang up. He walked over to the tiny end table and wrenched open the single overstuffed drawer, digging through for a pad of paper and the first writing instrument he could find, a blue pen with the academy’s logo printed on it.

Gai—

I don’t know how to tell you this, but you have to stay away from me. It’s for your own good. No one close to me is safe, even from me.

Sorry. Please understand.

—Kakashi

He read over the messily scrawled note, then tore the sheet off the pad and crumbled it in a fist. There’s no way Gai could read that and not have about a billion questions. Especially with how they had relied on each other through the years, from Dai’s death to Rin’s, this wouldn’t be remotely good enough to get Gai to stay away.

He sat down on the couch again, tapping the pen absentmindedly against the faded lined paper. What do you say to someone to convince them to be done with you completely?

When the key scraped into the lock, he froze.

The door swung wide open, Gai slumping into the apartment. His jumpsuit was nicked and torn and his hair didn’t have its usual luster. He was clearly exhausted, though not chakra exhausted. Kakashi felt the familiar pangs of panic begin to hit—how was he back so soon?

“Hey, ‘Kashi. The client blew the mission terms totally out of proportion—he made it seem like it’d be almost an A rank, and instead it was like a grueling C rank. We’re still not sure if the pay will be adjusted accordingly, but Ebisu is arguing it shouldn’t be because we did still run into trouble—Stone ninja near the border tried to take Chouza out. Recognized him somehow, but no worries, Konoha’s magnificent Green Beast was on the scene and we handled them without any major issues.” He grinned and flexed, posing for a moment before relaxing now that he had reached his destination and sliding his vest off and onto the hook by the door.

“How have you been? You eaten yet? Yakiniku is running a special according to Chouza—he asked me to join him for a post-mission meal and I told him I’d have to swing by here and see if you wanted to tag along. You like their short rib, right? Or are you still on the vegetarian kick?”

It never failed to impress Kakashi how Gai could fill a space, whether it be with his words, his personality, or his posing. No matter how he did it, though, it always was genuine and warm, and it was nearly impossible to maintain the solemn composure he frequently fronted. They made a nice contrast as a pair. Shame they would never have the chance to explore the friendship further.

He looked down at the crumpled paper on the ground and kicked it under the couch, setting the pad and pen aside. Unfortunately, he was going to have to explain in person.

He walked past Gai without making eye contact, the other man stepping out of his way without resistance. He lifted the vest off the hook next to his own vest, brought it briefly to his own chest, and immediately regretted it when the scent of his rival slammed into him. Once again, he shook his head vigorously, then shoved the vest back at Gai.

“Get out.”

He laughed, taking the vest back and slipping it on without understanding. “Want yours as well?” he asked, reaching for the door.

Kakashi felt flushed again, realizing that Gai meant for them to get dinner together. He walked back into the small living room, keeping his back to the door.

“Don’t need it. Get out.”

Gai’s laugh died in his chest, questions rising to the surface. “I… You okay? Did something happen while I was gone? Your investigation results? I told Ibiki to send word if they made the announcement, that asshole—”

“No, Gai. Nothing happened. I just…” Kakashi swallowed and felt his heart frost over. “Just did some thinking. Realized I’m better off without you.”

He scoffed. “Very funny, Kakashi. Come on, grab a jacket or something, Chouza said he’d wait on me to get back.”

“I mean it, Gai. You’re holding me back. The stupid challenges, do you think I actually care? I’ve always been stronger than you, and now that I’ve got the Sharingan, it’s comical, competing against you. I can see all your moves from miles away. You broadcast like a bull. You’re loud, annoying, and a useless ninja. I want you out of my life.”

There was silence for more than a full minute. It might have been as long as the two of them had gone without speaking, ever. Then Gai crossed to Kakashi in two steps, grabbing his left shoulder and spinning him around to face him.

“I know you’re not saying all that ‘cause you mean it, Kakashi. Look me in the eyes and think about this.”

Kakashi steeled himself, making full eye contact with the single grey eye. “Why don’t you think about it, Gai? Honestly? What kind of a ninja can’t even use ninjutsu? Everyone’s just humoring you and letting you make a fool of yourself. You’re a walking lesson in how to not be a shinobi.”

Gai blinked hard, his eyes beginning to shimmer. He cocked his head to the side, his grip on his rival’s shoulder only strengthening.

“’Kashi, I know things are hard for you. I know your brain lies to you sometimes. It’s okay. Listen, we’ll stay here tonight, I’ll cook, we can watch a movie or something, I’ll keep watch so you can sleep and we’ll talk more in the morning. There’s no pressure. I care about you, Kakashi. Let me help you.”

His eyes were swimming now, the passion making tears roll slowly down his face. The silver-haired man refused to move or answer. Swallowing, he made one last effort to persuade him. “Kakashi… please. Don’t do this. I love you.”

Kakashi’s heart, freeze dried, now shattered, crumbling into a powder and blowing away on a light breeze. Of course Gai loved him, and he loved Gai, but could Gai really mean that he… could he love him the way?—

Impossible.

No. Of course not. And even if he did, that just put him in all the more danger.

His resolve strengthened, he scowled back. “Fuck off, Gai. A ninja that only uses taijutsu is useless in battle. Don’t you remember how your dad died? Couldn’t save himself, could barely save you. What did you even do to try and help him?”

He was grateful for the fist that slammed into his jaw, shutting him up and knocking him into the wall.

“Fuck off, Hatake.”

He only dimly registered the door slamming, and possibly coming off its’ hinges. After a beat, a glint of silver flew through the air and lodged into the wall directly opposite the door. Slowly, he gathered himself up and limped over to it, realizing with a sharp ache that it was the key to his apartment. Turning to the mirror propped near the door, he stared down the version of him with grey circles under his eyes, thumbing at the blood growing at the corner of his mouth.

Friend-Killer Kakashi was starting to sound more like him by the moment.

#kakashi can't cook #kakagai #kakagai angst #kakashi angst #kakashi hatake #maito gai #might guy #kakashi oneshot

[lesbianlotties]

if you wanted you could do something hurt/comfort for the berman sisters maybe a sickfic or something

soup - Ziggy & Cindy

Mild /Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Family Fluff. 1204 words

Ziggy is sick.

Cindy tries to take care of her.

There will be tears, introspection, laughter, and soup.

Ziggy was sick. Mostly, Ziggy was very pissed off about being sick. Her mother told her it was just a cold, but that didn’t make the redheaded teenager feel any better. She couldn’t believe her body would betray her like that. A constant headache, runny nose, and a nonstop fever since the previous night. She wasn’t in the mood for anything but lying in her bed under a pile of blankets and wallowing in her feelings. Not only this cold had absolutely ruined her weekend plans, but it made her feel useless, and weak, and she simply hated being sick. Her entire life she had been the kind of girl that would most likely cry out of anger rather than sadness. She had been on the verge of tears when the door of her bedroom was cautiously pushed open.

“Get the fuck out of my room, Cindy,” Ziggy groaned.

“You sound like a very sick frog,” Cindy said.

“What the fuck?!” Ziggy turned over in bed to properly glare at her older sister.

When the two sisters locked eyes an unpleasant tension was immediate. While it was true that they used to be extremely close when they were younger, things had changed. Very recently, it was as if Cindy Berman had been replaced with a different person. Ziggy could barely recognize her. She didn’t even see Alice constantly hanging out with Cindy anymore. Sure, maybe Ziggy could have made an effort to talk to Cindy once and try to understand what was going on. But, truth be told, her defense mechanism had been to go out of her way to be rude to her sister and make a hell out of that new life Cindy was trying to make for herself. It was safe to say the Berman sisters weren’t at their best. But… Ziggy was sick, their mother had her schedule filled with work and drinks, and Cindy…

“Can you behave?” Cindy sighed gravely and placed a glass of water on Ziggy’s bedside table. “I’m trying to be a good sister here…”

“Funny,” Ziggy smirked, “because I don’t have a sister.” The youngest of the Berman sisters turned her back on her sister, and assumed that would be the end of the conversation as usual. Then she felt a hit on her head. “Hey! What the fuck?! I’m dying over here!” As much as she wanted to keep her act up, Ziggy felt a small spark of joy over that smack in her head. Because perfect Cindy Berman wouldn’t ever do that to her little sister, she mostly ignored her. But this had been a move of the old Cindy, the sister Ziggy used to adore, the one that had never been afraid to lovingly fight her sister to get what she wanted. The familiarity of it hurt, but it was just a little more comforting.

“One day,” Cindy smiled, “let me be a good sister for one day.”

“Whatever,” Ziggy replied. Then she turned her back on Cindy and closed her eyes, wishing she would fall asleep instead of feeling that unwanted happiness of having her sister’s attention. Perhaps Cindy was right. They could do this for one day

--

It was a slow recovery for Ziggy, but she was never alone. Luckily for Shadyside kids, accustomed to having all kinds of absent parents, they all learned how to take care of themselves and each other while pretty young. This meant that Cindy knew exactly what to do in these situations. She knew the right pills, when Ziggy needed to be bundled up, or needed a cold towel on her forehead, and she had a perfect soup recipe for moments like this.

As the day progressed, Ziggy found herself relaxing into this dynamic of letting Cindy take care of her. Cindy had changed only very recently, so it wasn’t all that difficult to pretend they were a year younger and their sibling relationship hadn’t suffered because of some complex change in Cindy’s life. Cindy, however, had some more complicated feelings about this day. On one hand, she had missed her younger sister more than she’d ever admit, and she was happy to get to hang out with her, proud to be able to take care of her. But all of those feelings had a painful underside.

Because Cindy couldn’t stop blaming herself for the way they had grown apart. It was all bittersweet. The worst part? Making sure that Ziggy would notice and memorize everything Cindy was doing for her. Because Cindy had learned to take care of herself even younger, and in the process, she’d realized that not even her own life was guaranteed. She could be happy to take care of Ziggy now, but deep down she knew the most important part was making sure Ziggy would be able to take care of herself later on.

“Ziggy, are you listening?” Cindy scoffed.

“Loud and clear, ma’am,” Ziggy replied. “Throw a chicken in a bowl of water and hope for the best.”

“Ziggy!” Cindy protested, not hiding her annoyance. “This recipe is important! Next time you get sick you can’t survive on water and self-pity.”

The younger girl groaned, ignoring the not-so-subtle suggestion that one day Cindy would leave her to fend for herself. “Just write it down then,” she whispered bitterly.

“Yeah I don’t trust you to keep a piece of paper safe. You’ll just lose it,” Cindy said.

The two of them shared a laugh, knowing Cindy was absolutely right. It was a perfect moment, as if brought back from a recent past when everything wasn’t all perfect but least they had each other. At one point throughout the day, Ziggy had begrudgingly made space in her bed for Cindy to climb in.

Cindy was rubbing soothing circles in Ziggy’s back. And she was feeling somewhat terrible for wishing Ziggy wouldn’t recover too quickly, so they make the most out of this short illusion of getting along with each other. Ziggy wasn’t much better emotionally. Although her sister’s care was pretty effective, she still felt considerably upset about her health, furious about feeling sick, more than a little emotional about this entire situation with her sister, and even angrier about letting her emotions get to her. It was only a matter of time before the tears finally came.

Ziggy closed her eyes tightly and pulled her hands into fists, tensing her whole body, but there was no stopping her from crying now. She felt the moment Cindy hesitated on her movements, and guessed her sister had noticed. Before Cindy could say something, Ziggy went into defense mode. “Not a word,” she said as harshly as she could while sniffling. “I am not crying.”

“I know,” Cindy replied surprisingly fast. “If you were crying I’d make so much fun of you though.” That made Ziggy tearfully laugh, maybe cry even more. “It’s okay,” Cindy whispered, continuing to rub circles on Ziggy’s back until her younger sister fell asleep. Eventually, Cindy fell asleep too. There was a chance that the next day they would wake up and go back to their unpleasant normal. But at the very least, they had this good day between them, and Ziggy had memorized Cindy’s soup recipe.

#thanks for sending a prompt! i hope u like it! #fear street #cindy berman #ziggy berman #fear street fanfiction #fs #my fic #prompts

[gildedmuse]

ZOLAW CONCEPT: hanahaki disease, but instead of being fatal it's more like having allergies and whoever has it acts like someone with lactose intolerance where they just don't care about the cons of their actions

I have to admit that I had NO idea what this was and had to look it up.

My first thought was just...

Internet: However, Hanahaki Disease is particularly popular within fandom due to its potential for angst, hurt/comfort, pining, and general romantic tension.

Me: Yep. That's just about me.

Me: You throw some jealousy and possessiveness and there and that nails it to a tee.

Me: Hey, it turns out jealousy (sub: possessive behavior) angst, h/c, pining and grt are NOT family recipes

Me: They're just generic internet memes

(This all makes more sense if your mom is an intense baker)

I do quickly want to stay that I might not understand the full breathe of this but I DEFINITELY understand people who are lactose intolerant and just want a normal tasting latte (not your fault they sugar/vanilla all those alt milks). So I pretty much feel I have this troop down.

My only question would be who would be the infected? It would be so much easier if one of them had a sword attack to feature flowers, but the only one I can think of is Cavendish.

(Seriously, does that guy grow roses in his spare time? Like... Is 90% of his life dedicated to Rosales horticulture? If so, I respect that he's found his true passion in life. Go for it, overly pretty but broken dude. Grow them roses.)

I mean, if it were blood we have an obvious western metaphor for me to better understand. It's call Dying At The End Of A Romancic/Gothic movie from Tuberculosis. That always ends in tragedy though so I'm gonna go with the flowers.

But also of it's blood instead of flowers... Pretty sure it's be Zoro. Okay, yes, they have definitely both coughed up blood at some point but I feel like in Laws case it was, "cause, physically, my body is sick and must die" where as Zoro was like:

Zoro: *Sees Big Bubble Of Pain For Someone He Loves* Oh, I'm walking into that.

Me: Zoro, are you sure? Because you will be straight up sacrificing yourself when they COULD potentially pull out of this no pro-

Me: Fuck. You're already gone.

But that would unfortunately lead to Zoro drinking lattes not caring.

Zoro, At Punk Hazard Because Torao at Saboady And Then Cutting An Island In Half? Won't Even Drink Soup With Them. And Yet, Yes Please: *Coughs up cherry blossoms, obviously*

Zoro, To Crew: I'm fine.

Zoro, In Dressrosa Where Law Works To Save His Captain And Fights Mingo Even After Having His Arm Cut Off Yet Gets Mad At The Celebration When Zoro Grabs Him: *More Cherry Blossoms Obviously*

Zoro, To Crew: I'm FINE.

(I'm not sure what Law's flower is, so I'm just going to go with Zoro's)

(And yes technically both of them would be the thistle. Because all spiky on the outside and *motions to Zoro* Sword.)

(Can't really cough that up in a cool way)

Zoro, In Zou Where Torao Does The Most Romantic Thing Yet: Get All Angry About Something His Crew Loves And Yet Still Kinda Flirty Pissy With Zoro: *Just obviously sick*

Despite how everyone would know it by then ("He gets suck everytime he looks at Torao!" / "Ahh, that's SUPER sweet though! He must be in love!" / "Yeah, but it's never great to be I'll, Franky-bro!" / "It IS a wonder he continues to deny it, Franky, when he could due something daring." / "... Robin, what would bet that he'd do just that?") Zoro still manages to insist he's fine.

Even once they're trapped on a goddamn submarine - Zoro didn't actually understand what being on a submarine meant so thank God you're not here captain, he'd hate to have to fight you over sending him in this trip to hell - Zoro INSISTS on denying it. Insists. Insists. Insists.

Insists to all sort of medical professionals and even Law himself. Who has him practically backed into a corner at some point when Zoro is openly sick. There are flower petals at their feet and yet this idiot is saying he's fine. Like, sure, he's fine for now, but does he know the unwanted complications this could have with later medical problems? It's not as if Law cares if he's in love with his captain or not. Or maybe that creepy woman. Or... Who knows? The whole crew is weird. Point is, he thought Zoro was enough of a grown up to take this seriously but since he won't even admit it when he's being sick on front of Law.

In which case, there is nothing Law can do to help.

He did think, Mugiwara-ya was the kind of man who at least CARED about his crew, but even after telling the captain of the Straw hats he gets nothing. Which is crazy because Law's seen him sick since almost the day...

Robin: Strange how our swordsman never seems to show signs of his illness in front of our captain.

Law: He's likely holding back the worst of the attacks.

Robin: Yes, that seems very possible. So they'd only appear once a blue moon. About how we've met you on our route, Torao-kun! *Smile*

MedTech: Our calculations actually showed very similar dates...

Law: You're referring to...

MedTech: *Sinking in his seat* I mean... look.... when he met us with us, sir.

Law: Right, so obviously....

Law: *Based on the staring* Right

Law: Shit.

#thank you for distracting me from the blood #so much blood #they say its okay now I guess but ...? #sorry blood freak out #what other than the thistle for Law #what else is prickly? #yet inevitably your like ahhhhh #when removing it from your thigh #Zoro has the best worst sense of survival #I will kill all these strangers surronded me immediately if you ket me captain #but if you say no? will gladly die by their hands #No this boy will lie up to the point of death #we've seen it #one piece #roronoa zoro #trafalgar d. water law #trafalgar law #smart but not always bright #what what is happening? #you can't be serious? #of course we're serious what would we lie about here? #zolaw #zoro x law #the zolaw headcanon nobody asked for #ask #I'll be happy to answer #it will be far longer than you'd expect

[ikenbar]

Mr. Love: Ike’s Choice Ch2 Pt 5

Warnings: G A V I N  F L U F F CITY! ALL ABOARD THE GAVIN FLUFF TRAIN!! TOOT TOOOT, slight angst? Honestly mostly fluff though lol, also sassy Ike. Sassy Ike for the win. Oh, and cliffhangers :D

(Chapter two’s prologue, parts one, two, three, and four here :))

((Please read the author’s note (and the beginning of the story) on chapter one part one if you’re new here :D))

Chapter two:

Part five:

The ride back to the bus stop was practically silent. All that could be heard was the car's motor and our steady breathing as we sat in silence. I was staring blankly out the open window in the front seat of the car. To my dismay, all of the traffic lights were against me as we hit every red light to the bus stop. I had scooted myself as far as I could to the door and away from Gavin and tried distracting myself with the scenery outside, but all I could think about were Gavin's harsh words. Do you know who you are mimicking when you act that way? Your father! The lump in my throat was back. He wasn't talking about Bart. He was talking about my fourth foster father.  The foster parent who gave me all the scars I struggled to hide everyday. Both the mental ones and the physical ones. Gavin didn’t know all that though. All Gavin knew was what the police had on file. That one day, I had brought in my abusive foster father to the police department to be arrested and tried for domestic abuse. I rubbed my arm slightly as I remembered what happened that day. The movement was enough to stir Gavin into starting a conversation.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, "We, uh, are almost there."

"Yeah," I mumbled, leaning on the palm of my hand as I watched the buildings go by us, “I hope my bike wasn’t stolen while you held me hostage in the break room.”

 “...is that your only mode of transportation?” Gavin’s tone made it seem like he wanted to make peace. I wasn't having it.

“I’m more concerned that I’d have to go back to the police station to make a report.” 

“Oh come on, Ike.” Gavin gave an exasperated sigh, “You aren’t the only one bothered by this partnership, you know?” I looked over at Gavin. Did he really think I was angry at him because we were working together? What is it with him?!

“I’m surprised you heard him," I growled through my teeth, "from how much you were kissing his-”

"And we are here!” Gavin raised his voice and interrupted me, “I assume this is your bike?” Indeed it was. It was parked in the same place I had left it. It looked fine. Nothing out of the ordinary. Thank goodness. I moved to unbuckle my seatbelt but Gavin stopped me by placing his hand over mine. I snapped my head towards him and flicked his hand away.

"Listen." His voice was soft again. The sound made me want to punch him in his gentle face, "I know how you feel about the police, but I also know you have a good moral compass. Though it may need some readjustment… you know that this guy needs to be taken down. Especially, If he is targeting Evolvers. We need to work together for this. So, at least this once, can we make a truce?" I stared at Gavin. This man. Who does he think he is fooling!? With the serious tone and the empty words… and the gentle look… and the soft voice… I sighed.

"Be at my place by six o'clock." I said, pushing open the door, "and bring the files. We can study there." Gavin nodded gratefully. 

“Right.” He said seriously but there was a slight tone of relief, “Thank you Ike.” I felt my cheeks burn slightly. Whether it was from embarrassment or from anger, I didn’t know. I turned away quickly and got out of the car

 "And don't eat dinner.” I huffed, “I've been simmering bone broth since yesterday and I don't want it to go to waste."

"You… cook?" Gavin asked, surprised.

"I do have a life you know." I shut the door and leaned on the open window, "Just because I like getting on your nerves, it doesn’t mean it’s my only pass time. Don't be late." Gavin nodded again.

"Don’t worry. I can't pass up the chance to eat a free home cooked meal made by the Ikamara Bikira.” Gavin smirked, “Especially after eating nothing but 'Cup 'O Sodium’ for the past week." 

"Who said it was free?" I teased, "Later."

"Goodbye." Gavin pulled the car out of park. I stepped back and allowed him to drive away, watching him as he left. Mixed feelings overlapped my mind in a way they never had before. I shook my head and tried composing myself. He was still the rotten cop that hated me and I him. That gentleness about him was just an illusion he set up to try to get me to drop my guard. That wasn't happening. He wasn't going to get me with that stupid smile. I wasn't having it.

I put on a tough face as I walked to my bike. I had work I needed to get done. I wasn't going to spend my time thinking about Gavin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I stirred the soup anxiously.  I couldn't pay attention to work at all that day. All I could think about was Gavin the case. And how to solve the case. And the lives in danger because of the case. And how the case insulted me and almost got me in trouble with the chief. And how the case was challenging and impossibly irritating… why did I feel so drawn to hi- It… the case.

I sighed as I looked down at my watch. 6:20. He should have been here by now. What was keeping him? If this was some ploy to get me irritated, it was working. I contemplated pulling out my phone to call the police station when I heard a knock at the door. I quickly walked out of the kitchen and reached for the door knob, but I stopped myself. If he made me wait, I can make him wait too.

"Who is it?" I asked innocently.

"... it's Gavin." The guilty party answered.

"Gavin?" I leaned against the door casually and looked at my nails, which were filled with flour from the noodles I had made, "It can't be Gavin. Gavin was supposed to be here by six."

"I know." Gavin sighed, "The line at the store was longer than expected."

"A likely story." I responded angrily, masking my obvious confusion, "... what were you doing at the store?"

"If you open the door, I'll show you."

I rolled my eyes but complied. Gavin was standing there, still dressed in his uniform, but he also had a satchel across his chest and was holding a bottle of scotch. I arched an eyebrow.

"I, uh," Gavin started, rubbing his neck with his free hand as a redness blossomed through his ears, "I didn't want to come over empty handed." Watching him struggling with awkwardness erased my anger towards his tardiness immediately. 

I sighed and took the bottle from him. I walked into the apartment, leaving the door open behind me. "Make yourself at home." I waved casually behind me to welcome him in, “The bathroom is up the stair and to the right. Dinner will be done soon."

"It smells great." Gavin said politely as he walked into the room and shut the door behind him. I stalled as I opened the cupboard above me. Man, it was weird to hear him compliment me. And so sincerely too.

"Thanks." I responded slowly, as I reached for a couple of glasses, “It’s a… family recipe.” There was a moment of quiet in the room. I could hear Gavin shucking off his bag and shoes as he made himself at home. The floorboards creaked as he slowly walked further into my apartment. I opened the bottle of scotch and poured it into the glasses. The air in the room had gotten tense and slightly awkward. Half of me wanted to retreat in the bathroom and never come out. The other half wanted to prove to Gavin that I wasn’t afraid of working with him… because I definitely wasn’t afraid of working with him. It had seemed like forever before Gavin’s voice finally cut through the air.

“You… kept the yearbook.” Gavin said this quietly, almost as if it was to himself. I turned around and saw that he was standing in front of the entertainment center with my old high school yearbook in his hands. 

“Uh, yeah.” I picked up the glasses and walked over to him, “Loveland high. I spent my freshman year there. I had to leave early because… of... my dad.” Gavin looked up and caught my eyes in his. His eyes were traced with a complicated expression. He and I were thinking about the same thing. About what happened in the police station earlier that day. The air around us got even more tense. 

To stop him from bringing up the topic, I handed him one of the glasses. He pulled his eyes away from me and to the glass, which he gladly accepted. I brought my attention to the yearbook in his hands, reminiscing about the school as I did. “I never really liked my time there. The kids were so judgemental because I couldn’t afford to have a nice closet like them… and I secluded myself a lot…” I looked closely at the faces on the pages, “Geez I don’t remember a single one of these kids.”

“Then… why did you keep the yearbook?”

“Because,” I placed my glass down on the entertainment center and took the book from Gavin. I started flipping through the pages, “Word had gotten around about what happened with my foster father. The school gave me the first copy of the year book and got as many students to sign it as they could. Most of the things written was stuff like, ‘I’m sorry to see you go!’ and ‘I wish I had gotten to know you better!’ What a bunch of frauds.” Gavin shifted his feet slightly next to me. “But, there was one response that seemed genuine.” The book opened to the page I continuously looked back on. It was the sophomore class’s group photo page. Handwritten notes had been scribbled all over but my eyes were set on the only one written in blue ink. I handed the book back to Gavin and pointed it out.

“‘I know you are more than what they say you are.’” Gavin read out loud, “‘Don’t let their words keep you from flying.’”

“I could only bring myself to read the notes when I was in my senior year.” I found myself saying this without realizing it, “This one was the one that convinced me that it didn’t matter who said what about me. If that one person, out of the hundreds in that whole school, really cared about me, the others were faceless. The times they had bullied me for being different were just... confetti. Meaningless decoration at the world’s best party.” I looked fondly at the blue ink on the page.

“That’s beautiful.” Gavin’s voice snapped me back to reality. I looked up at him and saw that his complicated gaze had never left me. I looked down and cleared my throat as warmth spread through my cheeks.

“Yeah, well,” I said as I reached for my glass again, “That’s all in the past now.” I turned and walked back to the kitchen, “It is a bummer that I can’t thank whoever wrote that, though.”

“Why not?”

“Cause they didn’t sign their name.” I turned into the kitchen and placed my glass on the bar. I took a spoon to the soup and stirred it slightly. “Dinner’s do-” I looked up from the pot and to Gavin. His face was twisted into a disgruntled emotion as he stared intently at the yearbook. “You alright there, Birdcop?” I asked. Gavin snapped his attention to me.

“Yeah.” He dismissively said, closing the book and placing it back on the shelf, “It’s just… nothing. It’s nothing" Gavin clapped his hands and walked over to the bar, “So, Birdcop is sticking, huh?"

"Yup!" I deadpanned, "You're not getting out of this one, Birdcop."

Gavin hummed his retort as he leaned against the bar. He was quiet for a moment, then he spoke timidly, "So, you don’t remember anyone from that school? Not a single person?”

“Not really.” I simply said, turning the stove off and pulling a couple of bowls out from the cupboard next to me, “There was no one really worth remembering.”

“Ah. I see.” Gavin sounded almost disappointed. I looked up at him. He had his head resting on the palm of his hand, looking down at the bar in thought. A question popped into my mind.

“Gavin, were you a student at Loveland high?” I asked slowly. Gavin looked up at me.

“What?” Gavin nervously chuckled, his posture straightening slightly. 

“You heard me.” I arched my eyebrow.

“Well…” Gavin struggled with the frog in his throat, unintentionally answering my question. I walked briskly back to the entertainment center and pulled the yearbook back out.

“No, don’t!” Gavin pleaded as he stood up from the bar and followed me to the living space. I flipped back through the pictures quickly until I landed on a familiar face. It was Gavin alright but he looked much younger and childish in the photo. His hair was messy and his face was a lot more rounded. He had a bandage on his cheek, as well as a soft smile on his lips. His outfit donned a casual hoodie that had a very sporadic design on it.

“Here you are!,” I teased Gavin as he grew closer, “I don't know why I didn't recognize you before! Aw, you look adorable!” Gavin grabbed for the yearbook but I skillfully dodged him.

“Ike, come on.” He pleaded as he went to grab it again. I held out my hand, pushed against his chest, and turned my body away from him so his arms couldn’t reach the book.

“Lookit you! That is such a stylish hoodie you've got on! Who knew Birdcop had a sense of style!" I read the top of the page, "It says here you were a sophomore when the year I was there. Hey! Maybe you could-” 

I felt a hand close around my wrist. Before I knew it, I was pulled into Gavin’s chest. My arm was pulled up and away from me, being tightly held so I couldn’t pull it away. A second hand was placed around my waist, stopping me from pushing away from him. The yearbook was shoved uncomfortably between us, though I paid no mind to it. 

Gavin gave me a playful glare… but soon it melted from his face as our eyes locked. The air around us got tense again but it wasn’t the tenseness I was used to with him. It was almost as gentle as it was captivating. The ambient noises of the apartment faded out and the only thing that could be heard was a strong heartbeat, though it was unclear who it belonged to. We were so close I could feel his short and warm breath on my forehead. As well as his body warmth through his clothes. It was then when I finally noticed his loosened tie and the undone button on his shirt, showing part is collarbone and an old scar that he wore proudly. I felt his grasp on my wrist loosen as he slowly lowered my arm. His hand fell from mine as he placed it onto my back, pulling us even closer. The only thing reflected in his eyes was me, as was the only thing in my eyes was him. The heat from Gavin’s hand slowly started melting something within my heart. Something that had been frozen over for so long. A warm feeling started making its way through my body and pushed past the barrier which I had put up such a long time ago...

“Ike.” Gavin’s voice was the softest I have ever heard it, making me become aware of the situation we were in. “I-” 

I forced Gavin away from me. 

“What’s wrong?” Gavin’s voice was still soft. It made me cringe slightly. 

“N-nothing.” I backed further away, avoiding eye contact with him. I held the yearbook close to my chest. This is all just a ploy for him to get under my skin. I assured myself as I tapped at the yearbook, To get my hopes up, only to demolish them at their peak. To use me then leave me. Just like everyone else did. Just like every man did. Just like any cop would. I racked my mind for an excuse to get away from him. “I… don’t want the soup to burn.” I managed to find the professional tone that I held before as I quickly turned from Gavin. I threw the yearbook onto the couch. I’m not going to let Gavin be the one to break down my well built walls. We are here on business. That is all. Not to reminisce of the past. Not to joke around. Not to be that close. Not to feel that warmth... The warmth that felt so nice... No, Just to find the man who ordered the hit on me. That was all. I straightened my posture into one of defiance as I felt my heart freeze over again. I put back up the barriers I had almost dropped as I entered the kitchen. 

(Next)

#OOF THE FLUFF #DROWNING IN THAT FLUFF #COUGHING UP A HAIR BALL FROM THAT FLUFF #gavin is the cuTEST #UGH almost has something on kiro #almost #mrloveaqueenschoice #mlqc #mlqc gavin #mlqc gavin fluff #mlqc fluff #mlqc oc fanfic #mlqc oc #mlqc birdcop #mlqc fanfic #mlqc fanfiction #ikamara bikira story #ike's choice #ike 'n bar productions #:D

[miguel-manbemel]

Aspects & Fanfics Ep. 40: Cream of Broccoli Gone Horribly Wrong

Here comes a new entry of the main storyline of this fanfic blog inspired on Sanders Sides by Thomas Sanders, Joan S. and the Foster Dawg Team. I really thought I wasn’t going to make it this time, because I spent a lot of time working on the “Catching the Reference” video, so much so that I didn’t have any time to write. This episode has been written literally in the last five days. When I started, getting it finished for Sunday was only a hope. Thank goodness that the hope became a reality. And speaking about it, hope and the lack of it and it’s effect on Roman, who is Thomas’ hopes and dreams, will be one of the central topics of this episode. I leave you with it now, hope you enjoy it and until next time.

SYNOPSIS: After discovering that Thomas’ lack of hope is affecting Roman and making him sick, Virgil tries to take care of him and of their injured son Chris at the same time. Both of them try to convince him to ask for help, but Virgil stubbornly tries to do this on his own. But it’s been a week, Virgil’s strength starts failing him and he doesn’t know if he can cope anymore with taking care both of them at the same time. And, exahusted and overwhelmed as he is, when he tries to make Patton’s cream of broccoli to comfort Roman, disaster ensues...

WARNINGS: Romantic prinxiety and logicality. Mentions to illness and death. Angst.

EPISODE INDEX

[Virgil is watching TV, a show about conspiracies he’s enjoying very much. A voice is heard in the distance]

ROMAN: Sweetheart? Are you there?

VIRGIL: [sighs] I thought he’d sleep a little longer… [yelling] Yes, honey, I’m here! Do you want something?

ROMAN: I’d want a little glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, if it doesn’t bother you too much, my love! My lips are completely dry and I need something fresh to drink!

CHRIS: [also voice in the distance] Could you make another one for me, dad, please?

VIRGIL: [yelling] I’m right on it!

CHRIS: Thanks, dad!

ROMAN: Thank you, Virge, I love you!

VIRGIL: [yelling] I love you back! [sighs] Just when it was getting interesting… [turning the TV off and standing up] Okay… back to work again. Come on, Virge. You endured the Dark Master’s working conditions, you can surely survive this! Two glasses of freshly squeezed orange juice. And, as Janus would say, I’m totally not tempted to squeeze my hands in the squeezer so I can join these two in bed. Not at all…

[intro sequence]

[Virgil enters Chris’ bedroom]

VIRGIL: [giving him a glass] Here’s your orange juice, Chris.

CHRIS: Thank you, dad.

VIRGIL: You’re welcome. How are you doing now?

CHRIS: My leg itches a little less today. But the question is… how are you doing today, dad? I’m worried that taking care of us both at the same time can be too much for you.

[Virgil smirks with gratitude]

VIRGIL: Thanks for thinking on me, son. But don’t worry. I can cope.

CHRIS: Are you sure? Remember that grandpa offered to temporarily move in with us to assist you.

VIRGIL: Yes, I know, dad has always been that great with us, but I can do this, and I don’t want to disturb him when he’s just starting his new life with Logan.

CHRIS: It’s just that it worries me to be a burden to you, dad. If only I could get rid of this plaster. It was really bad timing that father got so sick right when I’m in this condition. At least I could have helped you take care of him, and now you’re doing this on your own. Look at you. You look so tired, and it’s only been a week.

VIRGIL: [smiling, trying to conceal his fatigue] Don’t worry about me, son. It is I who must take care of you and not the opposite. But I really thank you for your concern. [kisses him on the forehead] I love you. Now drink that juice before it gets warm. It would be a shame that the ice cubes I put on it got melted. And I still have to bring the other glass to your father.

CHRIS: Okay… [drinks the juice, then gives the empty glass black to Virgil] It was delicious. Thank you for your hard work, dad.

VIRGIL: You’re welcome. Don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything, whatever that is.

CHRIS: Okay, I will. See ya later.

[Virgil leaves Chris’ bedroom and enters his own bedroom, whose bed Roman lies in]

ROMAN: Hi, Virge…

VIRGIL: Hi, Roman, how are you feeling now? Any fever?

ROMAN: I don’t know exactly, I didn’t check my temperature lately. The shivering and the cold feeling are already indicators, though.

VIRGIL: Let me see…

[Virgil puts his hand on Roman’s forehead]

VIRGIL: You’re burning hot. And I don’t mean your presence, which unfortunately, and I’m sorry, is anything but hot right now, sorry sweetheart.

ROMAN: [titters] Yeah, I can imagine… But the truth is I couldn’t care less right now about my appearance.

VIRGIL: Now I know you really have a fever. I was joking, though. Even when you look as bad as you do right now, I still can see that something in you that not even illness can take away.

ROMAN: So you’re basically saying that I look like a haunting ghost and as you love ghosts you enjoy my nasty look… I’ll take that as a compliment.

VIRGIL: It was a compliment and a truth. [takes a bottle of green pills from his pocket, the label, which has Thomas’ face smiling and looking at he sky with a dreamy face, reads “Thomas’ Hope”] Okay, it’s time for your medicine. Take one pill with the orange juice. That will make you feel better, at least for the time being.

[Virgil takes one pill from the bottle and gives it to Roman along with the orange juice]

ROMAN: Thanks. I owe Thomas and his friends so much for their efforts in trying to improve his mood. If it wasn’t for these little pills of hope Thomas generates for us, I don’t know if I would have coped at all… They’re the only thing that keeps me alive, literally. I hope, pun not intended, that they never run out.

VIRGIL: Me too, but remember what Logan said. You must take them fresh, because hope is strong and almost unbreakable when it’s the basis of a human mind, but it’s very fragile and gets spoiled easily when served in these small doses. So take it before it expires.

ROMAN: Okay. Can’t I have a double dose? The effect is so good, but lasts for so little…

VIRGIL: I’m not sure if it’s safe. I’d rather not take the risk until we ask Logan about it. It could be harmful for you.

ROMAN: [sighs] Okay, you’re right. Itadakimasu! [puts the pill in his mouth]

VIRGIL: What was that?

ROMAN: [still with the pill in his mouth] It was Japanese. Don’t you watch subtitled anime? They always say that before eating, as an expression of gratitude for the food they’re gonna eat.

VIRGIL: Oh, I see… You’re welcome, I guess.

[Roman swallows the pill with some of the juice]

ROMAN: Ah… this is so good. No one makes orange juice better than you, Virge.

VIRGIL: Heh… It was nothing special. If the oranges are good, the juice will be good, that’s all.

ROMAN: [grabbing Virgil’s hand] Don’t take merit from yourself, my Emo Dream-of-my-Lifetime, especially when I’m complimenting you.

VIRGIL: [smiles] Okay, I accept your compliment.

[Roman kisses Virgil’s hand, then they both look at each other for a couple of seconds with the most loving glance. It’s Virgil who gets out of this mesmerizing moment first]

VIRGIL: Okay… Now, I gotta go clean the squeezer, then I’ll make dinner. Do you want anything special for dinner tonight?

ROMAN: You told me Patton had given you his secret recipe for the cream of broccoli, right? That warm soup brought me back from the dead when I was feeling bruised. Maybe it could have the same effect with this fever. Could you make some? [puppy face and voice] Please? [suddenly serious] If it’s not too much work for you, of course.

VIRGIL: [shrugs] It’s okay by me. I have never made it before, but I’m willing to learn and if I follow the recipe, it shouldn’t be too hard. [yelling] What do you think, Chris!? Cream of broccoli for dinner!? With my dad’s recipe!?

CHRIS: [from a distance] Yay, I love Patton’s cream of broccoli! And broccoli is a good source of nutrients to help me effectively restore my bones too!

VIRGIL: Where did you learn that?

CHRIS: Uh… internet!? Oh, and grandpa Logan told me the last time they visited!

VIRGIL: [smirks] I thought so, you could only learn that kind of technical words from him… Okay, it’s settled, then. Cream of broccoli for dinner. I’ll start making it as soon as I clean the kitchen. Are you done with your glass, Roman?

ROMAN: [swallowing the last of the juice] Yes, I’m done. Thanks, Virge. I love you.

VIRGIL: I love you back, and you’re welcome. [grabs the empty glass] Now, try to rest a little bit while I’m making dinner, okay? Let the pill of hope make effect.

ROMAN: Okay. I really think I could sleep a little more.

VIRGIL: Dream a little dream of me.

ROMAN: All I do is dream of you my whole life through. [laying down in bed] See ya later.

[Virgil goes downstairs to the kitchen. He washes the two glasses, then cleans the squeezer, getting it ready for another use]

VIRGIL: Okay… now, to make dinner. I hope I have inherited some of my dad’s abilities to make that cream of broccoli.

[Virgil picks up his phone and starts reading the recipe Patton texted him]

VIRGIL: Okay, I need broccoli… Of course, Captain Obvious… I also need butter, an onion, a clove of garlic, three spoonfuls of flour, two cups of chicken stew, a quarter of liter of milk cream, two carrots… Carrots? Oh, well, Roman likes carrots. And Chris… He doesn’t need to know. And I also need salt, black pepper and cheddar cheese. Okay, time to summon it all. Here we go.

[Virgil summons all the ingredients, which appear on the counter]

VIRGIL: I wish I could summon the cream of broccoli itself already made… but I need to make it myself a couple of times before I’m certain I’m summoning it right. I wouldn’t want to serve my husband and son a bowl of swamp mud. Okay, let’s get cooking.

[Virgil starts following the instructions of the recipe. It’s not long before he starts getting anxious about the many steps the recipe has, some of them done at the same time. Soon, an awful smell starts filling the whole room]

VIRGIL: Holly sh… [bleep] ! The broccoli is burning! Oh, f… [bleep], the pan is on fire!

ROMAN: [distant voice] Virge? It’s something burning?

VIRGIL: It’s… it’s okay, Roman! I have it all under control!

[Virgil puts the pan on fire in the sink]

ROMAN: Remember, Virge, that you mustn’t try to extinguish grease fire with…

[Virgil turns on the water and a huge flame erupts from the pan, Virgil yells scared]

ROMAN: …water.

VIRGIL: [yelling almost hysterical] Okay, okay! Don’t worry, I… I knew that!

[Virgil looks for the fire extinguisher everywhere, on the verge of a panic attack. He finally finds it and extinguishes the flames that had already started burning the cabinets above the sink]

VIRGIL: Gosh… that was close… but I must endure. I need to make that cream of broccoli. And I’ll finish it even if I have to throw myself to the floor to grow the vegetables myself!

[Virgil approaches the counter, but he slips on a bunch of butter that had fallen on the floor in the confusion, and he loudly falls. He tries to hang on the edge on the counter, but he only manages to throw down everything that was there over him with a huge chaotic noise]

ROMAN: What was that? Is everything okay, Virge?

VIRGIL: [mumbling with a face of pain, covered with all the ingredients that fell on him] Aw… my arm… Talk about throwing myself to the floor… aw…

[soon footsteps are heard on the stairs and Roman appears wearing a dressing gown, white with a red belt and his logo on the left side of his chest. He’s also wearing golden slippers, and he’s carrying a walking stick, made of gold with the handle full of embedded rubies and amethysts. Roman looks horrified at the chaos in the kitchen, especially when he sees Virgil lying on the ground. Roman walks towards him, unable to run, but walking as fast as he can, leaning on his cane]

ROMAN: Virgil! Sweet Bette Midler, are you okay?

VIRGIL: [getting up with difficulty] Roman, you shouldn’t be up. Get back to bed, I can handle this.

ROMAN: Don’t worry, the pill has started making effect and I’m not feeling fever at this moment. And you obviously can’t handle this, anyone could see it. I’m so sorry I’ve made you go through this, my love. But not anymore, I swear.

VIRGIL: It’s not your fault. You didn’t choose to get sick, and it’s my duty to take care of you.

ROMAN: For starters, it never was a duty as in an obligation, and even if it was or rather you saw it as such because of your vows, you never vowed to do it all alone on your own. Logan once taught me that one mustn’t do things alone if they can gather a group of friends to help them. Now I understand what he meant and I agree. Virgil, I want you to call the others for help.

VIRGIL: So you think I’m not good enough to take care of you on my own, right? You think I’m not capable to do this?

ROMAN: You are capable enough, but capacity wears out with time for anyone, and there’s no need for you to do all of this all alone. Please, Virge, you need to rest as much as we do at this moment. Don’t you see we’re worrying about you and we’d feel better if we knew that you had some assistance? At least, let Patton come here to help you. He already offered to do so.

VIRGIL: But I don’t want to bother him…

ROMAN: [serious, firm voice] Either we call him or I call my brother Remus. You choose, but you’re no longer doing this alone.

VIRGIL: …or maybe it would be fine to call my dad…

ROMAN: That’s more like it. I knew I could convince you somehow.

VIRGIL: You say convincing, I say coercing. You know the mess that would happen if we bring Remus here to take care of this.

ROMAN: Whatever works… Will you call Patton or shall I?

VIRGIL: No, I’ll call him myself. And you’re going back to bed right now, mister.

ROMAN: I tell you I’m feeling fine at this moment. Call him. I’m not going back to bed until I see him here.

VIRGIL: [sighs] Okay… Dad! Dad are you there? Could you come here, please!

[Patton rises up]

PATTON: Hi, son. How are you do… [notices the mess in the kitchen] …ing now…? Okay I can see the answer with my own eyes… What’s happened here?

VIRGIL: Let’s just say that the cream of broccoli didn’t agree with me… while I was making it, that is.

PATTON: Okay, do not fear anymore. Your happy papi Patton is here.

VIRGIL: I hate so much bothering you… but Roman is right, I have reached my limit and I really need help.

PATTON: Hey, don’t worry, Virge. You are my son. You do this because you’re motivated by taking care of your son and husband, right? Do you think my motivation of taking care of you and your family, which is my family too, is any less strong? I’ll always be here for you, don’t you ever hesitate again to call me if you need me.

VIRGIL: Thank you, dad. Thank you so much.

PATTON: Okay, then first, Roman, go back to bed, you shouldn’t be up. Second, you, Virgil go have a shower and change your dirty clothes. And, even if you’re Vigilance and Anxiety, try to relax. Third, I’ll clean this mess before you have time to say “cookies”. And four, time to make some good warm cream of broccoli for my folks. [clapping hands] Okay, move on, now!

ROMAN: Wow, Patton, you really have your condition of dad in your DNA. You’ve organized all of our tasks in less than ten seconds…

PATTON: I said, back to bed, Princey, or do you want me to grab you there in my arms?

ROMAN: Okay, okay, I’m going, you don’t need to do that. [going upstairs] See ya later.

[Virgil also goes upstairs to the bathroom next to his bedroom. While getting a shower, he shows a face of concern while his thoughts are heard in an off-voice]

VIRGIL: [train of thought] Patton is saving the day this time… but I can’t rely on him for everything. I need to be self-sufficient. If I’m not capable of taking care of my own family… what kind of father and husband am I going to be? And Roman needs me… He doesn’t say it, because he pretends to be strong, like I do… but I know him very well. Behind that smile of assurance and that theatrical voice of bravery he displays… I can sense the fear in his eyes. He knows his life is on the stake and he doesn’t wanna die. I’m afraid to speak openly to him about that because I don’t wanna hurt or stress him… but I know he’s so scared. I wish he would open up to me, but opening up about his feelings has never been his strong suit… But is it him who needs to talk or is it really me? Is he the one who’s afraid to die… or is it me the one who’s afraid to lose him? Perhaps it is me who wants to talk to him about it… but I shouldn’t… Goodness, if I lose him… it will be like falling back into the Dark Realm again. He was the torch that guided me to the Light Side in the first place. It was literally his kiss what transformed me into a Light Side… and… I don’t know what I would do without him… [black tears fall down his cheeks, he cleans them and notices his stained hand] Oh, sh… I forgot to take my eyeshadow off before taking the shower. Oh, never mind, I’ll clean it later.

[Virgil gets out of the shower and wears a purple bathing robe. Right at that moment, Roman enters the bathroom. Virgil turns around quickly, trying to avoid Roman seeing his ruined eyeshadow]

ROMAN: Oh, sorry, I needed to go to the bathroom to pick up something and… Wait a minute. Have you been crying, Virge? Your eyeshadow is all over your cheeks

VIRGIL: What? Don’t be silly, it’s just that I forgot to take the eyeshadow off and the shower ruined it, that’s all. I…

ROMAN: You can’t fool me, Virge. I know you, and I can tell when you’ve been crying. What’s wrong, my love? You know you can tell me anything.

[Virgil turns around and looks at Roman. He’s crying again]

VIRGIL: I’m afraid.

ROMAN: Afraid?

VIRGIL: I don’t wanna lose you and I’m afraid that you could…

[Virgil gets choked up and covers his mouth and nose, desperately trying to fight the outburst of crying he can no longer hold back. Roman’s eyes get filled with tears again and he looks at Virgil with a glance overflowing with love]

ROMAN: Gosh… What have I done in life to deserve so much love from you? [opening his arms] Come here.

[Roman hugs Virgil tight until he calms down, then gives him a long kiss. Then he stares at him for a couple of seconds, still hugging him]

ROMAN: I’m scared too, I’m not gonna lie. Who wouldn’t be when his life is on risk? But I’m not gone yet, and while I’m here, I’m gonna keep fighting for my life, to keep on living, to keep on sharing my life with you and Chris, and the rest of our friends. You are the reason why I haven’t given up yet. So don’t give up either. I’m still standing and this illness won’t take me so easily. Heck, it won’t take me, at all. You’ll see. Okay?

VIRGIL: Okay…

[Roman kisses Virgil again, then Patton’s voice is heard from the bedroom on the other side of the door]

PATTON: Soup’s ready! Where are you, guys?

ROMAN: [still kissing Virgil, he groans] Mmm… I’m regretting Patton being here right at this moment…

VIRGIL: [kissing Roman’s cheek with a mocking smirk] It was your idea, Roman…

ROMAN: Yeah, I know… [gives Virgil a quick kiss, then releases him] Okay, let’s go. Now I’m feeling stronger than ever thanks to the pill… and this pill of love we’ve just shared. But I’m really in the mood for some warm soup. Aren’t you?

VIRGIL: Yeah, me too. But you go first, I’ll fix my makeup, then I’ll help Chris get to the stairs. It’s a good thing we can summon the chair lift at will to help Chris go up and down the stairs while his leg is still in the plaster.

ROMAN: Yeah, it is. Okay, I’ll be waiting downstairs for you two to arrive. I love you, my Hooded Dark Prince.

VIRGIL: I love you too, my Sir Sing-Along.

ROMAN: [opening the door] I’m here, Patton.

PATTON: Oh, there you are. [noticing Virgil in the bathroom before Roman closes the door behind him] I hope I’m not interrupting something.

ROMAN: No, we were just having a husband-to-husband talk we both needed to have, but we were done. I can’t wait for that broccoli, I’m hungry! My kingdom for a bowl of cream of broccoli!

PATTON: It’s a good sign that you feel hungry, kiddo. Let’s go.

[meanwhile, in the bathroom, Virgil cleans his face, then applies new makeup. Looking at himself in the mirror, he smirks]

VIRGIL: Things are coming rough right now… but as long as we’re together, we’ll get through it, I know.

PATTON: Virgil, your soup will get cold! I already helped Chris down the stairs, so hurry up, we’re all waiting down here, all the four of us!

VIRGIL: [changing to his usual outfit, then opening the door] Yes, I’m ready, dad! Don’t eat all the cream of broccoli without me! Wait… did he say the four of us?

[ending card]

[Roman, Virgil, Patton, Chris and Logan, who’s joined them, are eating the cream of broccoli on the living room’s table]

LOGAN: I give you my thanks for inviting me to dinner tonight with all of you. This cream of broccoli is more than adequate, Patton.

PATTON: Thanks, Lo. It’s the least I could do, inviting you for dinner, when I’m gonna have to spend a few nights here to help them.

VIRGIL: What? No, dad, that won’t be necessary. You can perfectly go home tonight with Logan, we can survive the night on our own, cause the only thing we’ll be doing is sleeping. And if anything goes wrong in the night, the only one who could get up anyway is me. You know you all fall asleep while Thomas is sleeping.

PATTON: Yeah, I know I’d spend the night sleeping in spite of myself… but I’d probably have nightmares all night out of the concern. If I was here, I’d feel more relaxed and my dreams would be more pleasant. Please, I can sleep on the couch if you want me to.

VIRGIL: No, dad. Should you come over here for the night, I would never allow you to sleep on the couch. We have a guest bedroom you can use… [sighs] Okay, if you think being away could cause you harm in your sleep… I accept. Both of you can sleep over here if you want, Logan.

LOGAN: Oh, I wouldn’t want to be a…

VIRGIL: It’s okay, there’s room in the bed for both of you, and I would be less worried knowing that I’m not separating you now that you’re just married. What do you think, Roman?

ROMAN: Oh, I don’t mind at all.

LOGAN: All right, if you don’t have any issues with it, I accept. The only thing that worries me is breakfast, I…

ROMAN: It’s okay, Logan, we also eat a lot of Crofter’s in this house in the mornings.

LOGAN: [speaking quickly and excited] I’m in!

PATTON: Then, it’s settled. We’ll be here as the lovely family I’ve always envisioned in my dreams!

LOGAN: But only for dinner and breakfast, though, at least me. I’m currently working on something that needs all my attention in my own room during the day.

VIRGIL: Oh, okay, if that’s what you need. Can I ask what are you working on?

PATTON: Yes, my love, I would also like to know, you never told me anything.

LOGAN: It’s a plan of action to try and make Thomas’ mood improve. It is my duty to create all the logical mechanisms that help Thomas enjoy life and understand why life is still enjoyable, so I have to do that. My goal is that, when I have settled that foundation, Thomas will be able to restore his levels of hope to a healthy level again.

ROMAN: Oh, that would be so great. If it would work, you would be saving my life, literally. Thank you, Logan.

LOGAN: Don’t mention. That’s my job, after all. How are Thomas’ pills of hope working, by the way? Are they doing the trick?

ROMAN: Yes, they’re working perfectly fine. I had the last one a couple of hours ago and when I take one, all the symptoms almost disappear, even the fever goes away. That’s why I’m feeling so fine right now. It’s a shame that the effect only lasts for around four hours per pill and that I can only get three pills each day so I have to spend a great deal of the day feeling the symptoms in all their crudeness, and in those moments I feel like trash, but when they’re working like now, it’s an absolute relief. Say, isn’t there any possibility that I could get a double dose to make the effect last longer?

LOGAN: [suddenly yelling, with a face of fear and tension] No! Don’t do that! [there’s a silence at the table, everyone looks at Logan in silence. Logan clears his throat] I’m sorry… I wish you could take more pills or that the effect was longer, but as I told you, hope is fragile when served in these small doses, and if you got more than the established dose, which is one pill each eight hours, the pills you’d take in excess would get corrupted inside of you, as if it was an overdose. And then, they wouldn’t be hope anymore, they would be delusion, irrationality, even dementia, and that would have dangerous consequences, for you and for Thomas, that we must avoid at all cost. Remember, Roman. Even if you’re tempted to do so when you’re feeling the worst, even if you feel like you’re gonna die if you don’t, don’t take more than the right dose each day, do you understand?

ROMAN: Okay. I understand.

LOGAN: And I’m warning you about this because… I’m sorry but, seeing the evolution of your illness…

ROMAN: What?

LOGAN: You’re getting worse, Roman.

VIRGIL: What?

LOGAN: The pills will keep rescuing you and making you feel fine while they’re working, but when the effect wears off… you’re gonna be feeling worse than you’re already feeling now.

ROMAN: Oh, no… There has to be something you can do.

LOGAN: We’re working on it. But you must have faith in us and be strong when you feel the worst.

ROMAN: You’ve managed to scare me… Is it going to be so horrible?

LOGAN: Maybe even worse than anything you could imagine.

VIRGIL: [distressed] Logan, please, there’s no need to say things so crudely.

LOGAN: I’m sorry, but I can’t lie in a matter so serious, and Roman has the right to know… to be ready for that when it happens.

ROMAN: Logan is right, Virge, I have the right to know to prepare myself mentally. Don’t worry, I’m a prince. I’ll be strong, I promise.

VIRGIL: Roman… I know you’ll do your best. And we’ll do our best to take care of you too.

ROMAN: I count on that…

CHRIS: I wish I could take care of you too, father, but my leg…

ROMAN: I know, Chris, don’t worry about anything. Save your energies to heal that leg and get back in perfect shape. Remember we have lot’s of fencing lessons to share together in the future. And I don’t have any intention to miss them!

CHRIS: [smiling] Right!

PATTON: Okay, soup is over. Would you like a nice cup of hot chocolate for dessert? I can make churros to go with it.

VIRGIL: I’m not in the mood, dad, sorry…

PATTON: And that’s why I want you to help me make them. We need to distract ourselves and enjoy Roman’s good moments while they last. I won’t take no for an answer, kiddo.

VIRGIL: [sighs] Okay… let’s make some churros, then.

ROMAN: I think I’m gonna enjoy Patton’s stay in this room more than I anticipated. Churros for everyone! Yummy!

LOGAN: I would have preferred to dip them in Crofter’s, but hot chocolate is good too.

[Virgil goes with Patton to the kitchen and they start gathering the ingredients while Roman looks at them with a face of love and satisfaction, even though his eyes can’t conceal the fear. Virgil looks furtively at him and notices this fear but says nothing, and focuses on not messing up the recipe again]

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fic #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #angst #tw illness #aspects and fanfics

[marvelous-avengers]

coffee cake

summary: Late night baking. 

pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

warnings: fluff and love, slight angst if you squint

a/n: after a very stressful weak, this was inspired by events that happened at home when my dad pulled out my grandma’s cooking stuff and i decided it would be nice if i had a super soldier to comfort me. enjoy it angels. (i should be sleeping or doing other things but i wrote this because i needed it.)

---

It’s late when he finds you in the kitchen.

A day of errands and naps, plus a late dinner of reheated soup has you tired and wired all at the same time. Achy body but itching hands.

Tools and ingredients scatter the kitchen island. Old fashioned tools and vintage recipes with faded edges, crisp and timed handwriting that spawns memories from younger years of wooden tables and benches, a white creaky oven door, smiles and wrinkled lips pressed to temples.

It stirs something in Steve’s chest as he leans against the doorway.

You’re oblivious to his soft gaze, you’re even softer, as he watches you measure out ingredients. Your hands are delicate yet deliberate–taking care while getting the job done. He’s almost mesmerized, watching you work through the kitchen in your t-shirt and sleep shorts.

It’s been a hard week for you. Between some family drama, trouble at work and moving in together, the stress leading up to everything made you physically ill and that was hard for him to see. Too many cooks in the kitchen, too many things to get rid of and so little time to move, to actually get anything done. 

So today had been spent in bed, then a couple errands, some soup and Nailed It! on Netflix filled the afternoon.

“Hi babe.”

Ah, he’s been caught.

He smiles gently, blue with specks of green and gold going even softer as he reaches you at the counter, lips pressing to your forehead. You’re mixing the paste-like mixture in the bowl and Steve takes in the rest of the pieces of the recipe and grabs a round container from the marble island.

“Sour cream? In cake?”

The edges of your lips turn up and there’s his happy girl. “Just wait.” His other hand goes to your back, fingers skimming underneath the edge of your shirt as he rubs the skin there. “Will you butter the pan, please?”

With a final squeeze to your skin, he does as he’s asked. You take the final cups of flour, the baking soda and sour cream and add them to your bowl, mixing until homogenous. You grab a jar of brown something crumbly and measure some out, mixing it with another bit of something and a dash of another something.

“My grandma used to make this cake only for special occasions,” you say as you gingerly start to layer the batter and other mixture into the prepared pan. “She made it for birthdays, primarily. She’d come over and this was our birthday cake. It’s special.”

The way you talk about her, so open and freely, so reverently, sparks a memory in the deep caverns of his mind. Gentle hands, worn from work and care, brushing back soft tufts of blond, mixing soup on the stove made from anything they could salvage, one more spoonful for himself than her. A delicate, beautiful smile on her face, always. Would you like some more, Steven? Have you had enough? A time when there was never always enough to go around, but children came first. They always came first, even if there was nothing. 

It sends an ache through his heart, to think of this, of memories and time long passed. How families who had nothing still gave and gave, still cared for their children and found ways to do so. He knows it’s ingrained in your soul, from mother and father to grandmother, who, like his own parents, came from a country seeking a better life, who came from nothing, but somehow gave their children everything that they could. 

It’s better now–the world is, at least–in some ways, with technology and agriculture. He thinks of the good things, of warm summer days and your neighbor’s children giggling and laughing, of you, pressed carefully in his arms, content and happy as you sleep. It warms his heart, soothes the dull icy chill forever present in a man out of time. 

He only wishes that the soft mother of his memories was able to see him today. Home. Loved. Happy. 

A few final taps of the pan against the counter and it slides easily into the warm oven. You set a timer on the microwave. He watches as you immediately start to clean up, gathering dirty dishes and utensils and putting sugar and flour and vanilla away. You take great care in washing the tools of your masterpiece, placing them carefully in the dishrack once they’re deemed clean. 

“She didn’t have much growing up, and neither did my dad, so they were always sure to try and give their children better lives than we had. They always gave us extra when we asked, offered more to us first even if they hadn’t finished.” Another metal and rounded measuring cup, one that looks familiar to him, is placed to dry. “They always took care of us first. And this cake was always our treat. It tied my whole family together.”

Family. The root of your love, your being and your soul. Your kindness, your selflessness, your loving and bold personality that he loves so much. Obviously it runs in the family. 

Part of him wants to offer to help, but the other part of him, the practiced and loving part, knows that this is yours. Your way to deal with the relieved stress, the anxious part of you that continues to worry after things are complete. Your family traditions, special memories, your heart and soul buried and bursting in your being.

So he lets you be. But once you dry your hands on the towel and the counter is wiped clean, he slides his arms around your waist and pulls you close, pink lips pressing to the crown of your head. You sigh, winding your own around him and nestle safely into his embrace. Calloused hands rub up and down your back, and you squeeze him.

You pull away enough to gaze up at him, eyes cloudy and dazed, filled with emotion. He cups your face with one hand, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Your eyes are closed when he pulls away again, and he releases a chuckle before he finally kisses your lips.

It’s so soft, so patient in the quiet of the kitchen, his thumb caressing your cheek as your lips move together. He tests the waters, the tip of his tongue slipping between yours, and your hands tighten on the back of his shirt. The hand on your waist tightens and as one of yours grasps onto longer strands of golden and sandy hair, you feel the counter against your back and Steve’s built body pressing against yours. You relish in the feeling, of the love and safety surrounding you–

Steve’s thumb grazes the underside of your breast and your back arches in response. He smiles and you only pull on his shirt, the urgency to have him closerclosercloser.

The kisses eventually slow and the timer shows an obscene amount of time spent wrapped up in each other. But neither of you mind. Besides, Steve likes to be selfish with you. Especially, like this.

Because it’s needed. In times of stress and destress, the sanctuary of tight arms and warm love is a welcome home. Home. Love.

When he pulls away, the blue of his eyes is blown out by the pupil and he’s flushed, beautifully so, spread across his cheeks to his ears. You smile and tug gently on his ear lobe, but Steve just kisses your wrist, lips swollen and plump and oh so delicious.

He kisses you right there, in the kitchen, until the timer runs out.

forever loves:

@sweetboybucky @evanstarff @barnesrogersvstheworld @tropicalcap @buckyofthemyscira @bucky-at-bedtime @kentuckybarnes @shurisneakers @jaamesbbarnes @sgtjbuccky @buckysbeardliness anyone else i forgot but i love you all

#jess writes #coffee cake fic #steve rogers #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers drabble #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader fluff #steve rogers fi #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #marvel

[beefybuffybucky]

Apples at the Market

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!Reader - 40s!Bucky Barnes x female!Reader

Request: could you please do a Bucky request for me please? where Bucky comes back and realises that he won't be able to see you again since he married you in the 40's. he tries to make a recipe that the remembers you cooking him all the time and he breaks down because its doesn't taste the same. In the end can you make it that you actually went through the same process as him to be a super soldier and stuff and you eventually meet? sorry if its too long but its been on my mind for weeks and I would love you to write it because I love the way you write! thank you xx

Warnings: angst - fluff - language

Word Count: 2.3K

A/N: It was so much fun writing this prompt, omg. I actually really love baking and had a super chill time going through my great grandma’s recipes to find the perfect ones for this fic. I really hope you enjoy it as much as I do!

Bucky’s P.O.V

We were married in the autumn, Y/N and I. It was an outdoor wedding, in the middle of a lush, mystical forest up-state. The leaves were deep reds, sweet oranges, and brilliant yellows, and each gust of wind that would dance through the trees’ branches created an intoxicating melody of calmness, the leaves flutter down around us, landing gracefully on the ground. It was a small wedding, just us, Steve, a priest, and a few of our neighbors. I never really cared that there weren’t a lot of people - all I could focus on was her mesmerizing smile, her bright, joyful eyes, and the radiating glow of happiness she emitted around her. Her long, white dress floated elegantly over the fallen leaves. Her hair was done-up in a high bun, pinned curls framing her face. She was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life - she was the woman of my dreams.

Even after we got married, every day after was like living the same perfect dream over and over again. On Saturdays, we would wake up a little earlier and go to a small farmer’s market near our apartment building. Her favorite fruit was apples, and we would leave the market with a whole bag of ‘em, and in the autumn, we would bring home a pumpkin, too. She would make this absolutely killer apple crumble from the apples we had bought earlier in the day, and for dinner, we would make a pumpkin soup together in between little breaks of dancing and stealing light kisses. Saturdays were always my favorite - just being around her was enough to make my heart flutter with joy - but now, each passing day just reminds me of how I lost, and never even got to say goodbye to the love of my life. Even after HYDRA did everything in their power to make me forget - to make me into their weapon - I was always able to hang on to one memory: her.

The oven’s timer beeping brings me out of my trance. I get up from my stool, pushing it back under the counter of the kitchen island, and grab an oven mitt. When I pull down the oven door, a wall of heat hits my face, lightly burning my eyes and making it a bit hard to breathe. The smell of cinnamon and apples drifting from the oven is intoxicating as it swirls and mixes with the silent air hanging heavily on my shoulders. I set the hot pan on a hot-pad next to the stove, taking off the mitt to stir the simmering, pumpkin-orange soup. Outside, a light snow begins to fall, the delicate flakes landing on the window above the sink, quickly melting away and trailing down the glass pane. The first snowfall of the year…

Y/N loved the first snowfall. The last time I saw her during the first fall, we were out for a stroll, just popping our heads into small shops in the city, enjoying the clear, chilly night, when the flakes began to drop.

We were both tucked into our winter coats, her arm locked through mine, the bustle of the crowd swarming around us. Stopping at a corner to cross a street, a few delicate snowflakes begin to twirl out of the sky and drift to our feet. A smile blossoms on her face. It’s one of those ear-to-ear, goofy smiles that are contagious. I turn to her, watching as her eyes cast to the sky in awe. A few flakes settle on her hair, and one lands on her cheek. I bring my gloved hand to her face, using my thumb to brush it away. She leans into my touch, closing her eyes and humming. I lean down and press a light kiss to her soft lips, savoring the taste of her as I try to capture this moment in my mind. I slowly pull away and open my eyes, locking my gaze with hers. Y/N giggles and I gently rest my forehead against hers.

“I love you,” I whisper, my breath puffing into the air.

“I love you too, James,” she smiles as she stands on her toes, pressing her lips to mine again.

A quiet tear sliding down my face painfully drags me back to reality. I brace my hands against the smooth counter top and take in a shaky breath. Opening the drawer near my stomach, I grab a fork and cut into the crumble, the hot steam from the apples slowly drifting away like flames licking at logs in a fire. I bring the fork to my mouth, the hot crumble slightly burning my tongue.

I've made this recipe at least a hundred times, trying to find just the right amount of ingredients that would make the crumble taste like Y/N’s. But nothing ever worked. There was always something missing every, single, time. I just want some way to have her back in my life...to have some sort of...of a connection back to her even though she's long gone.

In a wild burst of frustration and anger, I forcefully throw the whole pan of the crumble into the sink, sending loud clanging noises and its contents flying everywhere. Apple chunks and crumbs scatter over the countertops as the pan ricochets out of the sink and clatters on the floor, and a dull burning sensation radiates from my fingertips.

It’s burden to breathe. More tears well up in my eyes, blurring my vision. I lean back against the counter, the stone pushing into my lower back, and I cross my arms over my chest. A sob threatens to shake through my body, and my lip quivers as I try to suppress it, but it erupts in my throat any ways and a strangled choke escapes from my throat. My legs suddenly feel weak and I drop to the ground, pulling my legs to my chest and wrapping my arms around my head. The air around me feels like it's suffocating me. Anxiety and burning hatred tingle through my veins, threatening to override my senses. Hot tears bleed into the sleeves of my shirt, but I don't care. Thoughts crash into my mind, shrouding out reality - the shitty, stupid reality that she'll never come back into my life.

Y/N’s P.O.V

You've been trying to adjust to life for the past year. After being a HYDRA captive for nearly seventy years, you managed to escape, create an alias, and settle down in an apartment using the money you had taken from the organization. Most of the time, they kept you frozen like the other soldiers they began to experiment with, only thawing you out whenever they needed a sort of last resort.

After James had left for the war, you relied a lot on Steve for support, until he, too, eventually left. A few months later, you were out at the market buying more apples to make a crumble for a family dinner when you were forcefully dragged into an alleyway, knocked out, and taken. You never even saw your attackers coming. When you woke up, you were in a cell, scared shitless, and aching pains raged in every joint, muscle, and bone of your body.

You endured a solid six months of training and mind manipulation as HYDRA molded your mind and body into their perfect rendition of a weapon of mass destruction.

But that was all behind you now.

Even though the manipulation mutilated your mind and controlled your memories, you were never able to let go of James. The fact that you never knew what happened to him eats away at you each and every day, but, somehow, you're able to drag yourself out of bed and carry on living.

You've never bothered to reach out to Steve - the very thought of it made your stomach churn in fear of the type of memories that talking to him face-to-face may bring up. Every time you see his picture on T.V., or in a magazine, or even on a billboard, old, faint memories of James and him would surface. The three of you were inseparable, and the pain of not having James in your life was hard enough, let alone being in the same room as Stevie and not hearing James cracking jokes or watching him playfully make fun of Steve. You'd give anything to be able to go back in time and stop them from leaving, just to see James one last time…

The train slowing to a stop slightly jerks your body forward, and your shoulder bumps into the person standing next to you. The doors slide open, and people rush out like a wave crashing on a shoreline. Saturdays guaranteed a packed commuted into downtown. You follow the flow of bodies and walk towards the stairs heading to the streets above.

Overcast clouds make the wind blowing between the buildings colder than it should be. Winter was pressing in, and any day now, snow would begin to fall. You've always loved the first snow ever since you were a kid. The snowflakes would lure you into a trance, captivating you for hours. The first snow also reminded you of James. His touch was as light as a fresh snowflake, yet powerful enough to reassure you he would never leave you, like the biting cold of the winter. But, like snow in the spring, that promise melted away as soon as he left to serve.

Something runs into your legs, shaking you from your thoughts. You look down, blinking, and see a bubbly toddler staring up at you with an open mouth. Their dad runs up and quickly apologizes, scooping the toddler into his arms.

“Oh, no worries,” you smile. The man walks back over to where another man with an empty stroller was standing and passes the child into his arms. He bounces the baby playfully and boops his nose. The sight ignites a flick of joy in your heart.

A buzzing of people swarms around the market's carts. Just down the way, you spot the cart with the best apples you've ever tasted, and you happily stride towards it. An old man with bright, white, wispy hair and a red apron sits on a stool behind the cart, reading a newspaper. He looks up at you above the paper and greets you with a large smile.

“Mornin’, love,” his thick accent is charming and playful. “How many can I getchya?” He reaches for a paper bag under the cart.

“G’mornin’, Ed,” you smile back. “Can you get me four today? I have a lot of baking to do.”

The old man picks out four, juicy, brilliantly red apples and puts them in the bag, rolling down the top to close it.

“Here ya are, darlin’,” he smiles as he hands you the bag over the cart. “See ya next Saturday?”

“Like always,” you chuckle as you hand him the money you owed. “Bye, Ed!” You wave as you start to turn around, but run into something hard. You drop the bag, an apple rolling out onto the ground. “O-oh man, I’m so sorry.” You quickly crouch down to pick up the bag and the loose apple when the stranger moves to grab the apple at the same time. Their gloved hand brushes passed yours, grabbing the fruit and handing it out to you. You look up, and your heart nearly jumps out of your chest.

It...it’s James.

He has longer hair tucked into a ball cap and wore a heavy jacket over a black shirt. A beard covers his jaw and fades into his neck, his grey-blue eyes frozen in disbelief.

You can’t find the breath to speak as you stare at him, truly believing that this man, this stranger, could possibly be -

“Y/N?” He mumbles. You both stand at the same time. It...it c-can’t be…

“J-James?” You blink away tears pricking at your tired eyes. His eyes widen and tears begin to well along the bottom of his own eyes. You step closer to him. “Is it...it-it can’t be, there’s no way,” you swallow as a single tear races down your cheek.

He brings a large, gloved hand to your cheek and wipes away the warm tear. You instinctively lean into his comforting touch, giving into the wild fantasy that this man standing before you truly is James.

“It’s really you,” he breathes. His lower lip quivers and he bites down on it. “Am I...are you real?”

“Y-yes James, I am,” you smile through more tears gently cascading down your face.

“What are you doing here?” He asks. “How are you here?”

“I’m sure I could be asking you the same exact thing,” you chuckle in disbelief. “I, uh...I come here every Saturday to buy a-apples for baking. Ed’s my favorite guy to get ‘em from. I use them in my -”

“Crumble,” he finishes my sentence. “You don’t know how long I’ve been trying to remake that recipe,” he chuckles through a few silent tears.

“Why don’t you come back to my apartment,” you ask. “I can show you how to make it, and I have all the things to make pumpkin soup, so we could -”

He cuts you off again by pulling you into his arms. You immediately wrap your arms around him as he tucks his head into the crook of your neck.

“I never thought I’d see you again,” he whispers, his voice muffled by your scarf. “I promise...I’ll never leave you like that again.” He painfully pulls back from your embrace. “I just still can’t believe it’s you.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” you laugh. He extends the apple in his hand to you, and you grab it, dropping it back into the bag. You turn back to the cart a few feet away, squeezing between two other people. “Hey Ed,” you breathe. “I’m gonna need a few more apples.”

Tags: @randyortontattoos @wotlydia @theraputicwritings @isaxhorror @hollycornish @awinterloveuniverse @buckyisloved

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fandom #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #marvel x reader #marvel x you #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #marvel drabble #my fics #baking #angst #fluff

[asbestosghost-blog]

Oh wow, I sure did this. Based on @61below ‘s prompt to @shitty-check-please-aus (”AU where Bitty is gluten-free and Jack is diabetic”). Reposting because I think I botched the tags the first time around. Enjoy all this dessert angst pls~~

Save Room

It was a hard road for both of them, but definitely tougher on Bitty than Jack. Jack would probably eat garbage without complaining if his coaches told him to, but Bitty… he felt responsible. Still feels that way. Jack kept telling him, type 1 is usually genetic - it’s his pancreas, possibly even his parents, but not the pie.

The whole team found out before Jack. He had mentioned having trouble breathing earlier that day, and Ransom had noticed he smelled sweet (chalked it up to pie), but it wasn’t until Jack collapsed unexpectedly on the ice that they put two and two together. Full-blown DKA was the worst symptom of type 1 diabetes, but there it was, and there they were, hauling him into Holster’s car like idiots because the hospital was close enough that they thought they’d beat an ambulance. Bitty cried the entire time, some thick voice in the back of his head repeating over and over again, You did this. You did this to him.

Even after the doctors told him he wasn’t the cause, Bitty still stayed at the hospital until Jack woke up three days later. When his eyes finally started to focus, Bittle was the first thing he saw - crumpled into a plastic chair, static splaying his hair all over the armrest, uncomfortably asleep. Eric seemed to feel the attention and rustled awake, going from grumpy to guilty in the time it took him to lock eyes with Jack. He’s on new levels of ugly cry, still so convinced it’s his fault that he doesn’t even care about how he instantly goes to hold Jack’s hand. It’s sweet, it’s overwhelming, it’s almost a little ridiculous.

“This beats the last time I woke up in a hospital bed,” Jack croaks, cracking a weak smile. He rubs his thumb over Bitty’s palm, and it seems to calm the golden boy down. Bitty leans his forehead on their together-fist, and his sobs quiet into shuddering breaths, then even out to long, meditative breezes over Jack’s knuckles.

“Lord,” he says quietly, a small laugh trembling up his exhausted diaphragm, “save this Canadian fool.”

It takes a week for Jack to get the all-clear to leave the hospital, with a bag full of pamphlets and an insulin pump attached to his stomach. He and Bitty start dating a week later.

Bitty slows down on baking. While his brain understands that Jack is self-control world champion and I did not give him diabetes, he can’t find a way to forgive himself. It doesn’t make sense - of course it doesn’t. But he goes outside his recipes, and it lets him forget. He starts using darker chocolate, uses less sugar in general, indulges in the savory, hunts down non-American desserts.

While Jack appreciates the gesture, he can’t help but notice how tired Bitty looks. The purplish shadow under his eyes seems to get darker every week. During checking practice, it takes less and less force to push him into the boards—he peeks at the scale afterwards, and echoes Bitty’s worried face. “Ten pounds lighter,” he murmurs, and with resignation he hopes aloud that it’s just that he’s baking less.

But then Jack comes home early from class once, and hears Bittle groaning from upstairs. He tracks down his voice—he’s in the bathroom, and he sounds like he’s in real pain. And the smell.

“Jesus, Bits, what did you eat?”

He gets a groan in response. “Pie,” he moans. “Just a little pie, and then this.” Jack can make out the telltale whimpers of Bitty crying; he leans on the bathroom door, despite the smell (beyond asparagus; beyond wine hangover; Jack had never before undergone such an assault). “As if it couldn’t get any worse. I thought it would be done by now…”

Jack’s attention spikes. “Thought what would be done?”

“It’s… it’s nothing, sweetheart, you don’t need to stay here, please…”

“Bits.” He hears a sigh; defeat is what saves him, Jack thinks. “Thought what would be done.”

“I, um…” Starts talking, stops, starts again. “Diarrhea?” he squeaks, embarrassed. “It’s been a week and a half.”

Jack starts dialing his doctor. “Is your insurance card in your wallet?”

“Jack, no!”

“I’m taking you to the hospital. I’ll pick up your co-pay. This isn’t normal,” he says, wandering into Bitty’s room to grab his coat.

An hour later, they’re in the doctor’s office. Jack’s there when the doctor does the physical, when Bitty rattles off his symptoms, trying to laugh through pain so it looks normal. He’s holding Bitty’s hand when they head downstairs to the lab for blood work, and keeps him distracted while the nurse fills three vials from Bitty’s arm. He’s there when the call comes, when Bitty’s face goes white and he stumbles through scheduling an endoscopy. Jack takes him to the hospital for the biopsy, flips through an issue of HGTV without reading it in the waiting room, drives them home, keeps Bitty company while the sedatives wear off.

And when that last call comes, Jack’s not there. He gets a text from Bitty mid-class, and his mind blanks for the rest of the lecture.

They said I have celiac disease.

They’re both in Bitty’s bed, a little worse for wear. Jack kisses Bitty’s head, but the smaller boy is far too trapped in his brain to detect its gentleness. “It’s all gone now,” he sobs. “Have you ever tasted gluten-free desserts?”

Jack kisses away his tears. “I’d eat it if you made it, Bits.”

“Wet sand,” he hisses. “It all just falls apart without flour.” He covers his eyes to try and hold back a new wave of tears. Eric gets that he might be overreacting—bodies are weird, it’s probably genetic, he knows—but it just makes him feel worse about the pie complex he gave himself after Jack’s coma.

Jack just holds him tighter, kissing random spots all over his face. “Put it in perspective. If you hadn’t given me diabetes”—he has to pause to wrestle Bittle, who just belted an incredulous WHAT right in Jack’s face and is definitely attempting to illegally exit this cuddle—“with your dangerous, sugary pies, I wouldn’t be here right now.” He has to pin Bitty’s wrists to the bed to get a good look at his face. “We wouldn’t be here right now. Hell, I could be on some other team, or not in college. It could have happened anywhere. I could have died.”

“Mr. Zimmerman, you are in so much trouble when I get my hands back—“

“And maybe you have to give up wheat flour, but at least you’ve got me, eh?” he says, kissing a soft line down his neck. Bitty reluctantly lets him lace their fingers together, the flesh willing, but the spirit all full of fight.

“And maybe we can go back to the doctor and he’ll let me trade you back in for some, for all the good it does me!” he shouts, high-pitched and trying really really hard not to smile. He bucks his head up far enough to grab Jack’s ear with his teeth, and drags him back into smoochin’ range. Jack never thought someone could kiss petulantly, but that’s the word comes to mind.

“I think I’d let you sell me for flour that doesn’t make you shit yourself. I think I love you that much,” he whispers.

“And maybe I should start making POLENTA with all this CORN YOU’VE GOT—”

“Saints, I wish I had the room to eat it all over again,” Bitty whines.

It’s a month into fall semester, and they’re celebrating both the Falcs win and their sixth-ish-month anniversary. Jack picked the place—a hellishly fancy restaurant in Providence, the kind with just one prix fixe menu a night and no price listed.

The waiter comes around again. “Are we ready for the dessert course? More wine?”

Bitty looks at Jack hesitantly at the word “dessert.” Baking had to take a back seat this year anyway, but he’s lost so much steam (and so many subscribers) fighting a losing battle with gluten-free baking that he declared a moratorium on desserts. It was his lowest moment—he’d never felt less like himself—and the Haus has felt a little hollow ever since. He’s hoping to get I thought we weren’t doing this across with just his eyes, but Jack just smiles back… smugly?

The waiter rattles off the dessert courses as he puts each on the table—a tart, an impossibly thin pie slice, a deconstructed whatsit doused in chocolate shavings. Bitty’s working through his plan to just eat the shavings, when the waiter drops the bomb. “And all gluten-free, as requested.” He turns to Jack and starts commenting on how Chef so appreciates the challenge, but Bitty can’t pay attention anymore.

The tart is in front of him. The tart is in front of him, and it’s a gastrointestinal safe haven. Paradise, possibly. Bitty picks up the dessert fork. Hesitates. Dips it down—the lemon curd (he thinks?) cleaves so neatly, he almost can’t continue. Crust at the bottom—perfect resistance. Spears the sliver with his fork, remembers he’s somewhere nice, barely manages to keep from careening it into his mouth. He sighs.

Jack reaches across the table and strokes his face. “Bits. Are you crying?”

The waiter smiles.

The other half of the surprise comes when Bittle remembers how to talk. “How did you… how is this so…” he gestures at the plate, trying to remember any adjectives. Any descriptors that aren’t “good.”

“Good?” the waiter offers. Bitty sighs, nods, and the waiter laughs. “When you are done, you are invited back to the kitchen.”

Jack laughs as Bitty’s jaw drops, laughs a little harder when Bitty turns to give him an incredulous look that looks like you will be dead when I am done with you, and turns back to the waiter. “Sorry, what?”

“Chef tested out a wide variety of different flours and flour substitutes for tonight’s menu—for the breads, the soup stock, the crust, the desserts themselves, nothing has been wheat. Your dining partner asked for this specifically, and Chef would like to show you what works, and what doesn’t.”

Bitty manages to get his jaw back in line. “Sweetheart. What did you say your name was?”

“Benjamin, sir.”

Bitty stands up, and claps his hand on the waiter’s shoulders. “Benjamin, I am going to send you so much jam.” He pulls Jack up to his feet and drags “his dining partner” with him as Benjamin leads the way into the kitchen.

“How much did you spend to make this happen?” he hisses at Jack, unable to school the smile off his face.

“Thank me later,” Jack whispers, kissing Bitty’s ear. “I’ll save room.”

#omgcp-fanfic #zimbits #check please #check please au #shitty-check-please-aus #eric bittle #jack zimmerman #the only thing that kills immersion is the idea that bitty wouldn't forge ahead with baking despite new dietary restrictions #but yaknow