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set-phasers-to-whump · 3 years

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Prompt: water (alt no.12)

Whumpee: Neal Caffrey

Fandom: White Collar

what’s up everyone! welcome to my last fic for whumptober!! i can’t believe i’ve done this for the second year in a row that makes me so so happy!!! i hope that you enjoy this fic :)

The water is cold. So very, very cold. It bites at his skin and grabs at his clothes and makes his muscles nearly seize up with how much they’re shaking. Still, he keeps going, swimming deeper and deeper, his whole body fighting against him.

Finally, he catches sight of it - the silver wristwatch which their suspect had chucked into the water the second he’d seen Neal and Peter approaching. Clearly, there had been something important on it, because the man had tried desperately to stop Neal from going after it. He hadn’t listened, of course. He’d jumped right over the railing and into the icy water without a second thought. The case was an important one, and they’d been able to turn up virtually no evidence so far. They needed this watch, so he was going to get it.

Neal’s hand closes around the watch at last, and he pushes himself off the ground and up towards the surface of the water, his thoughts of finding the watch replaced by the constant repetition of cold, cold, cold…

His head breaks the surface of the water, and he sucks in a deep breath of fresh air, which stings his throat and makes his eyes water. He coughs, then looks around for Peter, spying him on the riverbank. Neal tries to focus his hearing in Peter’s direction, sensing something is being said, but he can’t hear anything over the chattering of his teeth.

Slowly, he swims to shore, wishing he could go faster but shivering too hard to do so. Eventually, he staggers out of the cold water and into the just-as-cold air, dropping to his knees and letting the watch fall from his hand. Everything is a constant, suffocating cold, and it hurts in a way he’s never really felt before.

Immediately, though, Peter is there, removing his suit jacket and draping it around Neal’s shoulders, providing the merest bit of warmth. “Why did you do that?” he asks, pulling Neal to his feet and keeping an arm around his shoulders to help him stand.

“We don’t even know if there’s anything valuable in this watch” he continues, picking up said watch and stuffing it into his pocket.

Neal tries to respond, but he’s far too cold to form a coherent sentence. “Could be…” he gets out, his voice shaking along with the rest of his body.

Peter sighs. Neal leans heavily into his shoulder. “Cold,” he says, as Peter starts walking, pulling Neal along as best as he can.

“I know,” Peter says. “You jumped into a river in the middle of February. What did you expect?”

Neal shrugs, somewhat chagrined. “Know it was s-stupid,” he says, stumbling over the words. He’s never been this cold in his entire life. “Sorry.”

Peter rubs a warm hand down Neal’s back as they continue their slow walk. “I’m not mad, Neal,” he says gently. “But you put yourself in real danger for something that might turn out to be nothing.”

Neal doesn’t respond, partly because he’s still freezing and speaking is not the most pleasant activity at the moment, and partly because he senses a but.

“But I think it was the right idea. I’ll be shocked if we don’t find something of value on this watch. Good work. Maybe don’t do it again.”

Neal can’t help grinning at this, a shaky smile stretching over his face, providing a tiny bit of warmth. “Won’t,” he manages to agree, though he’s pretty sure both he and Peter know he will.

After several more minutes of walking, during which Neal has grown increasingly colder and quieter, they arrive at the Taurus. Neal fumbles with his door handle for a bit, his trembling hand refusing to hold on to the cold metal.

Eventually, though, he’s in the car and the heating is on high. Peter has rummaged around in the backseat and come up with a dusty old blanket, which is now draped over Neal, not doing a whole lot in terms of warming him up. But it does make him feel nice. Cared for, even. He pulls the blanket tighter around himself as an especially harsh shiver runs through him, and wonders vaguely where they’re going.

He looks at Peter, hoping to convey his question without needing to speak. Luckily, Peter can read him, and he says, “we’re going home. We can deal with the watch in the morning, when you’re not freezing to death in my car.”

Home? Neal doesn’t want to go home. June’s out of town for the weekend and he’ll be all alone and still cold and miserable.

Strangely enough, though, they don’t appear to be going home. In fact, Neal realizes, as Peter makes a turn, they’re going to the Burkes’.

Home, he thinks, making a realization that he hardly dares to think might be true. Maybe Peter is just dropping by, maybe he’s taking an alternate route, or...he lets himself think it, just for a second: maybe Peter does mean home, his home, but home for Neal too. He nearly cries at the mere thought, and surely would cry, were it not for the fact that his tear ducts feel frozen shut.

“Home?” he brings himself to ask, as Peter pulls to a stop in front of the Burkes’ house.

“Yeah,” Peter says, looking at him questioningly. “El’s making soup tonight, and there’s a game on. We can have a fire, warm you up. Come on,” he finishes, stepping out of the car and gesturing for Neal to follow.

Despite everything, Neal feels a sudden surge of warmth envelop him. Peter had meant home. He gets out of the car, this time barely fumbling with the door handle at all.

Not one minute later, El is fussing over him a great deal more than he thinks is necessary. Not that he doesn’t appreciate it, because he does. But El is absolutely relentless, bustling him into a pair of faded old pajamas that are slightly too big on him, grabbing blankets from all over the house and piling them onto the couch for him to pick from, pushing a mug of steaming hot tea into his hands, and generally fretting over him, while Peter tells her the story of their evening and she shakes her head fondly.

“Are you sure you’re feeling warmed up now?” she asks, a few minutes later, as the three of them settle around the dining room table with delicious-smelling bowls of soup.

Neal gives her a smile and holds up his hands, no longer shaking. He is still a little cold, particularly in his fingers and toes and on top of his head where his still-damp hair is beginning to dry, but mostly, he’s warm, and as dry as he can be, and very, very happy.

He’s home.

aaagh big huge thanks for reading this!!!!! i am so happy rn, i finished this and my friends are coming in a bit for halloween and my 18th bday is tomorrow and i submit my first college apps tonight and aaa!! very excited very happy i hope that you are having an excellent day!! thanks for reading this fic like i said, and for reading any of my other whumptober fics too!!! this was such a fun month and i had such a great time!!!!!!

#whumptober2020 #altno.12 #water #white collar #fic #neal caffrey #cold #wet #supported walk #my writing #i say things #supported

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kinghoranshit · 3 years

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Just Another Normal Story (HS) - PT 4

I cradled our daughter, Harmony, in my arms. I felt exhausted. It’d been the two days since she came into the world the morning of November sixth.

A conclusion I came to about all of this was, at least it was happening when the weather's getting colder. Zombies couldn’t handle that, right? And we had the fireplace to keep the house heated if the power went out completely. We had no cable or internet though.

“Nichole,” My dad’s firm voice filled my head.

I looked over at him and he was giving me that look.

“Dad.” I shot him a look.

He huffed, rolling his eyes. “We’re running out of food.”

I shook my head. “No, not yet.”

“Come on, Follow me.” My dad tilted his head toward the doorway.

I looked down at sleeping Harmony. I didn’t want to let her go.

“You need to see what he has. I’ll take her,” my mother stated.

Finally, I nodded and handed her over to my mom.

We went down to the basement into his workshop and he handed something to me. The wooden crossbow I used three years in a row for my Halloween costume in high school. I had been a zombie slayer. Ironic, I know.

I didn’t know why he handed this to me. It didn’t work. It was broken last I knew. But as I glanced at it in my hands, it looked brand new.

“You fixed it up? Why?” I asked.

“For you to use,” he remarked. “Become that zombie slayer.”

I laughed. “Dad, it was just a costume and a joke. We both know I’m too scared of zombies.”

“I’m scared of zombies too. But killing them takes it away little by little. Here.” He now handed a bag of metal arrows to me.

“I don’t even know how to use this!” I exclaimed, trying to shove it back into his hands.

“I’ll teach you. It’s not hard. Just a pull of a trigger and putting the arrow in is a piece of cake. One of the quickest reloading weapons.”

I shook my head. “This is fucking nuts.”

“What’re you going to do when you run out of supplies for Harmony? What if I end up dying?”

I kept my mouth shut. I already knew the answer. I felt this certain feeling surging from deep within my chest. The adrenaline kicked in at the thought of stepping foot out of the barricaded house. I hadn’t seen what it looked like in two days. It could be completely different. Or the same. Probably the same.

“Got anything I can practice on?” I asked.

***

I wiped the gleam of sweat off my forehead as I panted. I walked over to take the metal arrow out of the bullseye target that had a botchy sketch of a zombie tacked onto it. My goal was to get in the forehead. And if the arrow didn’t go all the way through, I’d have to get up close and personal.

“Nichole!” Harry called.

“Yeah?” I yelled back, loading another arrow into the crossbow. She worked well. After a couple hours, I’d gotten pretty decent. Not sure I was good enough to go out yet. Well, mentally anyway. This surely would lead to major therapy in the future if we survived and somehow a cure came about. I already couldn’t sleep much, worried they’d break down the barriers and overtake us.

“We’re out of diapers.” His figure appeared at the doorway of the garage. I could hear them outside every once and awhile. I was positive they could smell me through the metal door.

I stared at him a bit blankly. “We can’t be.”

“But we are,” he remarked.

I felt my heart lurch into my throat. It wasn’t like I expected us to just hide away in the house forever. I was hopeful of it, but knew we couldn’t. It wasn’t realistic.

I sighed heavily, grabbing the satchel of arrows, and continued to hold the crossbow in my hands. I walked in past him and into the living room. My mom was on the couch still, holding a giggly Harmony.

“C’mon, Nikki, we’re going to Target,” my dad ordered, reloading his shotgun.

“What? Just us two?” I shot.

He nodded. “Yeah. Harry will stay here with mom and Harmony.”

“No, no, no.” I shook my head. “That’s a bad idea. We should stick together.”

“We can’t take a baby out there,” my mom argued. “It’s too cold.”

The thought from earlier popped back into my head.

“If it’s too cold for her, wouldn’t it be too cold for the zombies?” But I knew as soon as the words left my mouth, it was a no. “Nevermind.”

But then the thought of this thing from ‘Warm Bodies’ came into my head. “Do you think putting zombie guts on us would prevent them from smelling us? That way we can get more when we go to Target. We wouldn’t have to watch out as much.”

“That might work.” My dad nodded. “Harry, mom, and Harmony are still staying here.”

I huffed in annoyance. I just had a bad feeling with them not being in my sight for so long.

***

I pulled the green army jacket on over my blue plaid shirt. That which I wore with a grey tank underneath, denim skinnies, and brown combats. Why not? I never thought I’d actually wear this outfit again, but it seemed like an essential thing to do under the circumstances. My acting as a zombie slayer days were over. I was going to be one.

Harry pressed his lips against mine. “Be careful. I’ve got it here.”

I gave him a weak smile. “Remember, if too many happen to break in, kill the first one you see and put the guts on you. Then mom and Harmony. Mom has a pistol she can use.”

He nodded and kissed me once more. I rested my hand on the back of his neck, holding him there. I wanted to feel his lips for as long as I could. It could be for the last time.

“I love you,” I whispered.

He nuzzled his face into my hair. “I love you too.”

I walked over to my mom and Harmony. I kissed my daughter’s head and looked into her big, very dark blue eyes. “Mommy has to go get you things. See you soon.” I looked at my mom and she had tears brimming her eyes. There was no way she was going to take my place. She didn’t have the agility to sprint or run long distances since her major car accident a few years back; she had to get medical nails in her ankle.

“Stay safe.”

I gave her a small smile. “Of course.”

We left in my dad’s Ford F150 truck. I had my crossbow ready to shoot down any so they wouldn’t get into the garage. Luckily, Harry had the garage shut before any got in. I sat back down and shut my window.

“How much gas?” I asked. My dad never really kept track of that sort of thing.

“Three-fourths.”

I nodded. “Okay. Good. That should be good for a couple trips. But remember, we want to get as much as we can in this one trip.”

“I know,” he replied.

I didn’t say anything else. I looked out the window. It seemed especially gloomy today. The sky was full of grey clouds, casting a white hue over everything. I could see a few moving figures as he drove. It wasn’t a long drive to Target. Only fifteen minutes. But every minute I was preparing myself.

“Here’s the plan.” My dad turned the truck off. “You go ahead and get everything for Harmony. I’ll get the food. Remember to use the crossbow, and test your theory if possible. Got it?”

I let out a deep breath. “Yeah.” I reached back for the two duffels. I strapped one across my chest. This should be fun.

It was dead silent as we walked into the dim lighted Target; must be barely powered by a generator. The glass of the doors had been shattered, so our boots crunched on the pieces. I mentally cursed. Here’s hoping that sound wouldn’t provoke any zombies that could be nearby.

I wish the baby supplies weren’t set in the back part of the entire store. If I do run into a zombie, testing my theory would be the first thing I do. I made sure the walkie-talkie was still harnessed onto one of the loops.

“See you soon,” he whispered, splitting off, and left me alone. Nichole, don’t let your fear take over. You can protect yourself. Doing this for Harmony and Harry.

I went for the smaller stuff first-- onesies, socks, shoes, blankets, pacifiers, baby wipes, toys. I wasn’t entirely positive what she all needs right now. I was just glad we didn’t need to get a crib; my parents had one for when John and Ellise visited. Oh God. I hope they’re okay. And Leo! He was no longer in Iowa as well. I didn’t want to think the worst but I already was considering we hadn’t heard from them at all. The satellite towers went out yesterday. It wouldn’t be long until our power was out I assumed, so we should grab extra batteries and candles.

I zipped the duffel shut to make sure everything was secured. Next, I grabbed my last item, which would be the biggest and wouldn’t fit in the duffel. I held my crossbow up, ready to aim and shoot. I made fast and quiet movements to where the diapers were. My blood stopped cold hearing a shuffling sound.

I closed my eyes and let out a deep breath. I turned around to see a guy who couldn’t be much older than me standing there. He was eyeing me good. His icy blue veins popped out all over the place. He growled at me.

Despite my previous fear towards zombies, I couldn’t help a smirk. “Want me?”

His eyes grew even more wide as he overlooked me more. I held my crossbow up and aimed for the middle of his head. Closing one eye to get better radar. There was another screeching sound.

Fuck.

I pulled the trigger, watching the arrow fly and sink into the guy’s head. I tripped my way over to him, pierced it in even more just to be sure before yanking it out. I reloaded the crossbow with the same arrow and frantically rolled onto my back to aim. She was right above me. I could see the brain matter still attached to the cold metal and without a second though, I glided my fingers over it. The gooey sensation was not pleasant when it hit me. The smell wasn’t either as I wiped it onto my face; it was like expired dairy and throw up all in one. Gross as hell but worth it as I saw the skinny lady sniff the air, confused. She looked displeased when she couldn’t smell what she did before.

Slowly, I sidestepped around her and then bolted to find my dad. I grabbed the walkie-talkie.

“Dad? Do you copy?”

I didn’t get an answer then I could hear some cries and yells. Oh no.

I sprinted the fastest I had ever in my life, looking down every aisle of food. Finally, I found him in the bread. Four or five zombies were going at him. It didn’t matter how it happened, I needed to do something.

I held my crossbow up, aiming for one as I stalked towards them. I pulled the trigger and didn’t wait. I reloaded with another and aimed once again. I took down another. Now, just two were left. My dad still fought with the one holding onto his coat. So, I took down the other trying to help her boyfriend on their date.

My dad smashed the zombie’s head into the shelf a couple times and his body fell limp. I reached my hand out and he gladly took it.

“The guts thing works?” he panted. I noted the scratch on his face and hoped that the virus didn’t transfer that way.

I nodded. “Yeah. Killed one over by the baby stuff.”

“I told you could get good with the bow.” He cheesed, picking up his shotgun and duffle.

I rolled my eyes. “You got everything?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I still need diapers. We should also get candles and toilet paper if there’s any left. Let’s grab em and get out of here.”

“Don’t forget Gander.”

Right…

***

I used a different walkie-talkie to contact Harry when we were back in the driveway. “Hey, we’re back. Open the garage.”

“Okay,” he replied briefly.

The garage door opened and my dad pulled in. Harry was quick to get it closing. Once it was shut and we were in the clear, we carried everything inside. We grabbed like ten boxes of diapers. Each carried five out. Didn’t have to worry about zombies attacking us since we didn’t smell like food.

I went to kiss Harry, but he stepped back. “Please clean up first.”

I smiled slyly before I grabbed his face and rubbed his cheek against mine. Nothing was going to transfer since it was dry.

“Thank you so much, Nikki,” Harry retorted, dramatically wiping his face. He was definitely pleased to see no crud on his fingers.

“You’re welcome.”

Next and final: 5

[Masterlist]

#Harry Styles #Harry Styles fic #Harry Styles fanfiction #comedy #romance #drama #zombies #zombie apocalypse #supernatural #fanfiction #fic

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tk-observer · 5 years

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Scandinavia + Netherlands

It’s been two years since I wrote in here! Gasp!! There’s been one more trip to Japan in that time with Joanna too!

Anyway, before I get too caught up in that—this year’s trip!

Copenhagen!

WAS A BEAUTIFUL BIKING UTOPIA. I loved biking there so much! Even though it was cold and around like 6–10°C the entire time, the city was so flat and the bike lines so well thought out. We never got close to hitting anyone or in the way of anything. Even when we were confused, the bike lanes were made such that you couldn’t cross traffic and get in the way if you stayed in the lines.

We ate so many pastries. I also ate the world’s most beautiful chocolate croissant at Andersen & Maillard. Ugh, it was so beautiful. That cafe was so beautiful.

Lydia and I stayed in Nørrebro, the cutest little neighborhood. We also got to enjoy someone’s tiny apartment, which they shared with a kid?? We don’t know. We had two theories going:

1. They have a baby that comes to visit often, or 2. They’re moving out of the apartment.

Because the apartment was smaller than my studio, and they had maybe 1/3 of the things that I own. Just wow. Really makes you re-evaluate the amount of stuff you have…

Anyway, we biked around, visited Assisten’s Cemetery, which apparently is a place people go to hang out in during the summer. Half of it is public, with grave sites from like the 1800s or something like that, the other half is an active graveyard, where there are memorial services. We visited Hans Christian Anderson’s grave and Niels Bohr’s grave. Niels Bohr!!

Went to Nyhavn, visited the beauuuuuuuuuuutiful public library, went to the royal Danish museum which had a cool exhibit on what “modern” life is like in Denmark now with submissions that were voted on by the museum’s FB group. Also a surprise Pika Pika booth. Visited Christiania in the dark, the time when people are there to actually buy drugs instead of be tourists, Lydia biked with a flat for like four miles (two different bikes!). Food hall was amazing, went to a Zara home I think (dat Scandinavian design tho). Also walking around the Halloween themed Tivoli Gardens at night!! They had all these cute kiosks where people were selling their wares and glögg.

Also randomly while walking around Kastellet after visiting the Little Mermaid statue, we stumbled on a drum core practicing. Copenhagen is really beautiful, especially with all the fall leaves changing colors.

I think my favorite part has to be coming home and watching Pitbulls and Parolees on our AirBnB’s TV. That and Say Yes to the Dress which I surprisingly love to watch.

Amsterdam!

Was warmer! But there was a mix up at our Hotel Not Hotel which was a little annoying, but still kinda cool. It’s a very gimicky kind of hotel. Our room door was a bookcase. One thing I like nightmare dreamed about was a fire and then for the rest of the time I was worried that firemen wouldn’t be able to find our room if they needed to… Well, there was no fire.

The canals did make it difficult to navigate since the city was shaped in concentric rings. Also, when you were around the neighborhood that was known for selling weed, you would just smell it everywhere. I don’t smoke bc I am small and I don’t like the way it makes me feel, and I really don’t like the smell. @___@

We had dutch pancakes, ate a lot of pasta, discovered Yogurt Barn which was SO GOOD. Biked some more, but in Amsterdam it’s a bit more chaotic. The bike lanes are clearly marked, but that’s kind of it. They cross each other a lot more, so it’s easier to get startled. Also on the smaller streets along the canals, it’s not clear who has right of way, so a few times there was a car coming from my left or right where I did not know if they were going to stop or if I should stop or what.

Visited the cat boat!! Walked through the Bloemmarket, also went to this BEAUTIFUL, fancy restaurant called De Kas. It’s a greenhouse in the middle of a big park, so it’s just magical because you can see all the park around you outside. Also the food was so good. It’s a set course, but my favorite was the salad. They served it with a raw egg yolk, and I don’t know where that egg came from, but it is the best egg yolk I have ever had.

Museum of the canals was super cool! A great little museum executed really well, had tons of cute stop-motion animations to illustrate how the city was built (they put logs in the ground! Just tons of logs that they imported from Scandinavia), and this dollhouse which was my favorite. One of the rooms of the dollhouse you could look into was the room where the dollhouse was. So meta.

Anne Frank house, jeez man. I don’t think I’ve read the book, so I bought it, and I’m going slowly through it.

Moco museum, a modern gallery kinda deal. Lots of Bansky which eh, I’m never really into since I can’t shake the feeling that he’s kind of arrogant, but the Icy and Sot exhibit was so good. I bought their book even though it only goes up to 2016 and doesn’t have their environmental pieces, which I think are amazing.

Tea at the smallest house in Amsterdam! IT’S SO FUCKING CUTE. Also our host was a surprise historian! He taught us about the history of the house and was a great local host. He told us about how his family was like the fourth/fifth? people to own the home since it was built. Also a proper tea house since it seems that Scandinavia and Netherlands is really into coffee over tea.

Stockholm!

I think this is the point where we were kinda tired from going out all the time. Stockholm again was way colder and even the city bikes were taken in for the season. We took a lot of busses which were expensive (~$5 for a one-way ticket for 75 mins), but the central bus station. THE CENTRAL BUS STATION. Was so gorgeous. It looked kinda like ancient greek pottery.

Stockholm is gooooorgeous. It’s the in-between of the two cities to me. I think Amsterdam was old smashed with new, Copenhagen was mostly old, but Stockholm was like modern old. It didn’t have as many narrow buildings, and way more cobblestones streets and hills. I think biking there regularly would be more difficult. But also, Stockholm is a archipelago city, spread out over small islands. The water’s never far.

Fika everywhere! Unguarded coffee!

We ate Swedish meatballs, walked around the super cute neighborhoods Södermalm and Ostermalm (I think), visited the ABBA museum which was really fun, and the Vasa Museum, which has a 17th century ship preserved from the sea. Like they literally dragged the whole thing out of the ocean and restored it. It’s crazy.

It was also at this time that I discovered that season 2 of Castlevania came out so I ended up watching it with Lydia since she was interested despite all the gore and violence. Season 2 had much more plot going on, way more people, but the animation was kinda stilted. Since it had 8 episodes, it felt like they saved up all the budget for the fight scenes, which were still really good, but I like my dialogue scenes with more than just shots of people eyes. Also, plot was a bit more messy (poor Godbran!). Still, fun to watch! It was interesting to see more of Dracula’s perspective in this one since he was missing the entire first season. I’m really glad they didn’t skimp out on the background artists though. They were A+.

Went to IKEA on the free IKEA bus from central station, which was soooo much fun ahahha. Ate at the nice restaurant (more meatballs!) there and then just walked around. I don’t think we even bought anything, just had fun sitting on things and looking at all the cute children’s furniture and toys. It was so big. So, so big.

And then home!!

I’m so jetlagged rn. It’s like 2000 but it feels like 0200. Waiting on my last laundry load, and then I’m going to SLEEP

#2018 #copenhagen #amsterdam #stockholm

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lunaraen · 6 years

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Gifts

To say that it’s been an interesting year would be overwhelmingly understating things.

Maybe not as much as just saying they’ve been busy, but still.

There’s always a good side, and while Jesse’s more than happy to see something good come their way and see that something good as the number of presents they’re all opening, he also appreciates the new company in the Order Hall.

Jack and Nurm are bound to make anything interesting, sometimes simply by being around, but Jesse’s not complaining.

Apparently, thanks to the colder weather and how warm it can get in the shop when Jack makes armor and weapons, the ‘parrot problem’ (Jack clarified that those were Nurm’s words, not Jack’s) gets considerably worse in the winter, so they didn’t want to make the Order visit them when they have enough issues in-shop.

For some odd reason they both seem to think they can’t just crash at the Order hall, that they’ll be making a trek back to their shop later when it’s even colder and darker, despite knowing how many open rooms they have and how icy it is outside.

Petra might think that way for herself, which is frustrating and saddening on its own, but Jesse knows she’s been just as open to inviting Nurm and Jack to stay, so it doesn’t add up. Especially given how she and Jesse aren’t the only one, every other Order member, Ivor, and even Gabriel and Magnus, who are visiting, making the same very much clear on multiple occasions.

They should know they’re plenty welcome by now.

Occasionally, though, guests who don't know they're welcome or not, someone’s bound to get the interesting wrapping of a box inside a box.

This gift goes a bit behind that, and Jesse’s fairly sure it’s mostly because of Jack, who’s already beaming at him.

“Huh. A wrapped box in a shulker box in a chest.” To top it all off, the chest has a bow of its own on it, large and red and still on top because Jesse can’t bring himself to remove it. “You never do anything by halves, do you?”

Jack grins from his seat by the fire, looking oddly cozy in the fuzzy sword and snow themed sweater Axel gave him at the start of the whole gift giving process.

“The gift that keeps on giving.” Nurm, wearing a red nightcap gifted to him by Olivia, hums in agreement before saying something, Jesse picking up on more than he would have months ago when he wasn’t brushing up on his language skills, and Jack’s grin only gets wider as he motions for Jesse to unwrap the likewise still bowed and wrapped box. "Keep going, you haven’t even gotten to the real thing yet.“

“Yeah kid, don’t keep us waiting any longer.” Magnus grins from where he’s sitting on the couch, between Gabriel and Olivia and wearing a skewed woolen hat of his own, and Jesse can’t help but admit he’s got a point.

Curiosity isn’t always a good thing to entertain too long with griefers; it just makes them creative.

And Jesse, who’s been told he’s patient to a fault with the serious matters and plenty impatient with the pettiest of things, rips into the paper, opening the box before all of the wrap’s even been torn off.

It takes conscious effort, not to drop the box entirely when he sees what’s inside.

"Is this…?”

“Yup.” Petra grins from where she’s sitting between Jack and Axel, crossing her legs as she leans back against the wall, toll tipping slightly as she does. “You’re welcome.”

“When did you guys get an elytra?” It’s a bit of a stupid question, given there’s only one place to get actual ones instead of cheap knock offs and that everyone else’s gifts have been wholly end-themed, but Jesse’s common sense might just be a little preoccupied with the fact that he’s holding an elytra in his hands. Besides, all three of them are way too good at haggling, and being able to go to other worlds might make getting stuff like this easier, even if it doesn’t make it any less special.

It feels silky and hard and lightweight as he lifts it out of the box and runs his fingers along the edges, soft and firm but giving in a way few materials ever should or could be, and while Jesse doubts he can get as excited over this as Lukas did about the end rods and end stone bricks, he’s tempted to at least try.

“Where do you think?”

Axel’s the one who asks the question, and while it’s not a gift from him, he has a point that the three grins Jesse’s getting seem to reinforce.

“I have no idea how I can thank you guys enough for this.”

The three of them exchange a look that’s probably best described as exasperated.

“You’ve done enough already, Jesse. Just try to enjoy it.” It might be a sign of its own that Jesse’s not sure if Petra means the gifts he made them himself, from uneven and too long but creative scarves and knickknacks, or the stuff they’ve gotten through together as a team.

It’s hard for Jesse to set the elytra down, gently and carefully though he does as he places it back in the box that he rests beside the shulker shell that’s easily a gift in its own, but he does just in time to look back up and see Olivia nudge Radar forward, Radar gripping a large but unwrapped book as he hops down from his stool.

“And I don’t know how I’m going to compete with that, but I hope you like it.” Jesse has the book thrust in his hands almost as soon as Radar’s close enough to do it, and Jesse’s already smiling as he glances down at the book and the number of names scrawled on the cover.

“I’m sure it’ll be great, Radar.” Jesse glances up, looking around the room at the others. “How many of you guys worked on this?”

“It was something of a team effort.” Ivor pauses to take a sip of his hot chocolate, looking cozy in his chair as he smiles at both of them. There’s a look in his eye that tells Jesse this is going to be interesting even while Jesse still doesn’t fully know what it is. “However, Radar wanted to be the one to present it.”

Radar stays standing as Jesse turns his attention back to the book, smiling again at the names before he opens it and nearly drops the book.

It’s a photo album.

They have a few already, including one made up of pictures of the old Order they managed to scrounge together, but the more the merrier.

It already seems like an awesome gift, with Jesse recognizing a number of the photos on the first page as fairly recent, with the following pages getting older and older.

All the way until a few pages in when they get really old and it feels like he’s been socked in the gut. In the good way, if that’s even possible.

It’s just pages and pages of him and Reuben.

Jesse knows where each and every moment came from too, recognizing the photographs as ones Olivia took. Back before the Witherstorm, even back before they were worried about that year’s Endercon, or even a number of the ones before that, Olivia liked messing around and experimenting with taking photos of them all while they were busy or having fun or even just doing nothing.

Her photos make up a good chunk of their current albums even now, but it’s so cool to

There are pictures of Reuben curled up at Jesse’s feet, sleeping in his lap, resting beside him while they both nap in the sun, a picture of an unsuccessful attempt at giving Reuben a bath after the rain had made the forest too muddy for anybody’s good.

There’s even a picture of the time Reuben helped him in a snowball fight against Axel, the back of Jesse’s snow covered head fairly blurry but the snowball that he had thrown and that had smacked Axel upside the head in about as clear image as possible. Really, it’s second only to Axel being caught trying and failing to dodge it and Reuben behind him, tripping him up enough and looking extremely pleased with himself for it.

And Jesse has to look up because the last thing they need is someone crying on the pictures.

“How did you make this?”

Radar rubs the back of his neck, swallowing as he gives a shaky smile.

“Oh, it’s nothing, really. I just asked everybody if they’d be okay with giving me a few photos, so I put them in a book I got from the market in my free time, and it turns out there were some left in the tree house that nobody had moved yet, so then we all just…” Radar trails off, fingers tugging and twisting at the odd but cute tree themed tie he has on and pausing only to adjust his glasses, as he looks up at Jesse. “Jesse…? I… is it okay? You don’t have to keep it if you don’t want to.”

Jesse’s eyes are burning and that’s okay, because he has the best friends he could ever ask for.

“It’s perfect.”

There is a lot of hugging.

And there’s definitely some crying, but they’ve been through so much that Jesse certainly won’t hold any of it back when he’s happy. They could all use a little more happiness like this.

#My Stuff #fanfiction #storymodechristmas #mcsm #minecraft story mode

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muffinsnotebook · 7 years

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Mac n Cheese pt. 3

oh wow, it’s really been a long time since my last update hahahuhu im so sorry. i also took a while before i posted it here too. (it’s on ao3, in case you’re a new reader)

pt. 1 pt. 2

Chapter 3: Waffles in Winter

Jimin pouts the entire time Seokjin takes tucking the three of them into bed. It’s a queen size, pushed to the far wall, with a bedside table propping the nightlight, and Jeongguk’s milk bottles, and whatever toys could fit. The rest of the toys are scattered all over the floor, where the toy box by the foot of the bed can’t hold them any more. A large wooden dresser holds their clothes - some spilling from half shut drawers - and a small bookshelf housing more foam blocks than children’s books, stands beside the tall window. It had taken an entire day to move all the children’s stuff into Seokjin’s guest bedroom, but he’s just relieved to have enough room for them all.

“Jimin-ah, we had a deal,” Seokjin reminds him. “I let you have a shorter nap time, and you guys agreed to go to bed earlier in exchange.”

Jeongguk wriggles on his side of the bed, next to the wall, tossing and turning under the covers before flopping down at last, yawning widely, “Milk pwease!” Seokjin pauses, quickly fixing him his milk bottle while Jeongguk impatiently makes grabby hands.

Taehyung watches his younger brother practically chug his milk with amusement, mimicking the way he sucks loudly with his lips puckered exaggeratedly. Seokjin and Jeongguk laugh, the former nearly tripping over a stuffed elephant on the ground.

Still, Jimin huffs testily. “But I’m not sleepy!” He whines, but then his lips wobble, and he lets out a yawn of his own. Seokjin smirks, carefully picking his way through the few other toys scattered on the floor, picking up dirty laundry as he goes.

“Well then you’ll just have to keep lying down until you do feel sleepy,” He says with finality. “Alright, lights out, kiddos. Good night.”

“Good night, Uncle Jin. Sweet dreams.” The three chorus in reply, even Jimin who says it with a bit more sulk.

“Sweet dreams. See you tomorrow.”

Jeongguk is first to conk out, as usual, his white jammies already riding up his stomach. Taehyung is quick to curl his arms around Jimin, and most nights, Jimin is grateful for the extra warmth and comfort that sends him effortlessly into Dreamland, but tonight isn’t most nights. In all honesty, it hasn’t been most nights for the past few nights. These nights, Jimin dreads sleeping - where his dreams are more nightmares, not of spiders or monsters, but of the cold, barren darkness from before.

But the worst parts are the bright flashing lights, loud noises and breaking glass, mommy screaming for daddy–

Jimin wakes up with a small cry. A familiar chilliness settles in his belly, but not even Taehyung’s hugs can keep it away. Jimin clambers off the bed, placing Poby the Polar Bear in Taehyung’s arms instead. Silently, he crawls over to sit in front of the window, peeking up at the sky.

Tonight, the moon is only half out, but there are thick clouds in the way, and Jimin can’t see even the stars. It’s dark, and the nightlight only makes Jimin feel more lonely, reminds him more of before.

Before appa and eomma.

Before Taehyung.

Before Sunshine House.

In truth, Jimin doesn’t remember much before Sunshine House. Not that there is much to remember. The days and nights blur together into incoherency, and the only thing that remains vivid is the closed door where grown ups would come and go.

Instead, Jimin remembers the day she - not eomma - left him. Jimin remembers how she had dressed him up in his one and only coat, the sleeves bunching up in his palms. He remembers her wrapping a red scarf round and round his neck - it had kept him warm enough despite his threadbare clothes.

He remembers the park. How the playground had been bare, the chains on the swing icy in his hands. He remembers playing in the sandbox, forming lumps of clay and sand for riceballs and drawing figures with a stick; remembers turning every now and then to show her.

He remembers turning around and finding her gone completely.

He remembers feeling cold - the kind that remained after the hot cocoa they gave him at the police station, wrapped in a thick scratchy blanket. The policemen behind the desks would take turns staring at him, making him uncomfortable, and every now and then, a lady police officer would come up to offer him water or snacks.

He remembers walking through the front door of Sunshine House for Children, remembers feeling tiny and even colder under the stares of the other kids. His bed is a futon among a dozen others in a big room, the blanket thicker than his old one, the mattress not as lumpy.

Jimin doesn’t talk much to the other kids, doesn’t talk much at all, except for when the adults ask him a question. Though polite, his answers are always simple, short words.

About a week in, the first snow falls at dawn, and the kids wake up to a good couple inches of fresh, white snow. Where most of the kids run around building snowmen and waging snowball fights, Jimin picks a secluded corner, near some bushes. There, he meets Lula - the resident stray cat, fur in soft patches of orange, black and white, and eyes bluer than the sky.

When the matron comes to coax him back inside with the other kids, she gets a heart attack. The notoriously feisty stray calico in their neighborhood hangs limply in Jimin’s arms, as though it has only ever been docile. The child turns with his charms on at full throttle - his droopy eyes wide and beseeching, lips full on pout - looking like the world would end if she says no.

That night, Jimin is given a thorough lecture about being careful around stray animals, as well as how to care for a pet himself, while they get the calico de-clawed and vaccinated.

Lula is the first friend Jimin makes.

Jimin likes Lula a lot - she doesn’t talk but she always keeps him company. She gets fussy with other people, but Jimin finds her anger familiar and calming somehow. He likes her soft paws better than stinging slaps and booming shouts.

It’s still hard to talk to the other kids - Jimin finds himself lost for words around them, finds his voice gone when they try to talk to him, finds his limbs frozen when they try to play with him.

There’s this one boy, though, named Taehyung - the boy who always smiles and is one of the loudest kids in the bunch, the one who sleeps in the cot next to his. On Jimin’s third night in the orphanage, he gets nudged right before he could fall asleep. It’s Taehyung.

“Can I sleep next to you?” He whispers, already tugging at Jimin’s comforter.

“Why?” Jimin sits up quietly, peering at the rumpled state of Taehyung’s futon.

“I can’t sleep.”

Taehyung fiddles with the frayed ends of his pajamas, his eyes are wide and he bites his lips shyly. It’s different from the typical bubbly brightness he exudes - which Jimin secretly envies - and Jimin finds himself scooting over, allowing Taehyung to snuggle up next to him.

When he wakes up, Taehyung has his arms and legs coiled around Jimin, but he only finds himself feeling perfectly warm, the coldness he’s felt in his tummy from before somehow gone.

On his second week at the Sunshine House, Jimin makes his second friend - his first human friend, Taehyung.

Taehyung is different from Lula. He’s loud and cheerful where Lula is quiet; always moving and talking and playing. But Taehyung makes him laugh with silly faces and weird noises, keeps Jimin warm with hugs and cuddles just when Jimin starts feeling left out. He never leaves Jimin alone for too long, and Jimin shows him how to give Lula a bath the way the caretakers taught him to.

In the day, Jimin becomes Taehyung’s shadow, trailing after him quietly as he plays and mingles with the other kids. Some days, Jimin is still too shy to stick around, so he settles back down with Lula, coloring or drawing or playing blocks, and sooner or later, Taehyung settles down next to him. It’s one of the few moments the caretakers actually see Taehyung settle down.

In the night, Jimin scoots to the left most side of his cot, makes sure their comforter is evenly spread. Taehyung snuggles close to Jimin, wrapping his arms around him as though Jimin is an anchor that keeps him from getting blown away. Jimin doesn’t mind; likes Taehyung’s warm hugs, likes waking up tangled in sheets and limbs, especially after long dreams of being alone in the dark on cold kitchen floors.

It takes several more weeks, but spring comes eventually. When they finally shed their heavier coats and scarfs for light sweaters, Jimin plays with the others like he’s been part of the group for years, smiles bright and warm like the spring sun.

It’s November now, and Autumn engages in a tug of war with Winter. To Jimin, it’s all the same; the nights are long and cold, but his tears don’t run out.

Spring still seems too far away.

Jimin tries to stifle his sobs, he really does. But he misses when appa read him bedtime stories - misses appa’s warm big hand on his head, misses eomma’s lullabies, misses forehead kisses. More than anything, he wants appa to come back. He doesn’t understand why appa needed to become a star. Jimin doesn’t need stars - they’re too far away for hugs and kisses and bedtime stories.

“Jiminie?” Taehyung whispers, crawling over to sit next to him in front of the window. Jimin doesn’t look up, only curls tighter into himself, knees pressed to his chest, face buried in his crossed arms. Taehyung clenches a fist onto Jimin’s sleeves.

“Did you get another nightmare?” He whispers sadly. Jiminie has been having a lot of nightmares lately; he gets woken up whenever Jimin begins tossing and turning, sometimes talking and crying.

Jimin shakes his head, sniffling. “I miss appa so bad, Taetae.”

Taehyung nods sadly; he does too. He looks up at the cloudy sky, and frowns. He glances at Jimin, biting his lip, before curling up his legs to rest his chin on his knees, too.

“I’m sorry, Jiminie.” He says softly, morosely. “S’my fault. I drew on the couch again today and I didn’t eat my vegebles. Daddy must’ve saw, and ‘cause I wasn’t good today, hid away.”

Jimin shakes his head again, this time lifting his head. “No, Taetae. It’s my fault, too. I made fun of Uncle Jin, and I don’t finish my food all the time. And we didn’t clean up our messes after playtime.”

They both quiet down, looking up at the inky grey and black sky.

“…It’s both our faults.” They say at the same time, sighing. Blinking, they turn to look at each other, then look back up at the sky. “We’re sorry.”

“Need to apologize to Uncle Jin tomorrow, maybe.”

“We’ll do it after breakfast. I’ll make sure to finish mine tomorrow.”

“I’ll eat more of my vegebles, too. After playtime, let’s clean up too.”

“What about the couch?”

“Ggukie started it! That’s his fault, too,” Taehyung whined, pouting. Jimin pokes his arm.

“Appa will know. You have to be good, too, or it won’t work.”

Taehyung pouts some more, but nods resignedly. “Fine, fine - but can we go back to bed now? The floor is cold.”

They get resettled - Poby the Polar Bear getting pushed off the bed - back into their tangle of arms and legs and pillows, Jeongguk remaining fast asleep through it all.

“Good night, Jiminie.”

“Good night, Taetae.”

Seokjin frowns, seeing Jimin’s puffy eyes. The seven year old is more sluggish this morning than usual, more subdued.

“Jiminie, are you feeling okay?” He asks worriedly, pressing the back of his hand onto the young boy’s forehead. His temperature is normal, and Jimin mumbles a small, “’m fine.”

Seokjin purses his lips, then turns to his other seven year old, who’s more bleary eyed than usual. Taehyung’s hair sticks up in multiple directions, his eyes still at half-mast staring blankly at the table. It’s a one-eighty from the usually exuberant boy that Taehyung is, and Seokjin’s worry meter goes up another one or ten notches.

“Taehyungie, did you not sleep well last night?”

Taehyung promptly slumps over, faceplanting onto the table with a small thump. Jeongguk cackles at his brother, reaching with stubby fingers to poke at his side. Seokjin watches with mild amusement as Taehyung whines, weakly batting out an arm in retaliation.

“Right, well, you can go back to sleep if you want, but only after breakfast.” Seokjin says finally, turning back to where he’d been finishing the last plate for breakfast. With a flourish borne out of habit, (and yeah, okay he might be putting on a bit of a show, but if the kids don’t bat an eye, then it never happened) Seokjin makes quick work of the berries, dishes them out into small bowls.

“Heads and arms off the table,” he calls plopping down the plates and bowls. Taehyung’s nose twitches, before he perks up in a flash, back ramrod straight even as his eyes remain half shut.

“Strawberries!” He yells loudly, prying one eye open.

“There’s waffles, too.” Seokjin replies, more than slightly amused when Taehyung’s eyes pop wide open at the breakfast spread, the boy digging in with a hearty cheer. Jeongguk is already cramming his cut up pieces of bacon and waffle, and even Jimin hums happily with every other mouthful.

Today, Seokjin’s decided to give the kids a treat, making hashbrown-stuffed waffles, topped with bacon slices and poached egg, along with a bowl of sliced berries. Taehyung eats only the strawberries after polishing off his waffle, handing the rest to Jeongguk as usual who happily devours the rest, his own plate already wiped clean.

“Dewishoos!” Jeongguk chimes happily through mouthfuls of strawberries and bananas. Taehyung pokes his side, and Jeongguk blinks at his brother, before he turns to Seokjin, saying “Thank-you Uncle Jin! Dewishoos food!”

Somewhere between Seokjin melting and preening at the praise, Jeongguk polishes Taehyung’s bowl of fruits, moving on to Jimin’s. And in what seems like a blink of an eye, the four year old manages to stuff six whole blueberries into his cheeks. Like a chipmunk. An oversized chipmunk.

The idea of a four-year-old Jeongguk-chipmunk driving him to bankruptcy with his bottomless pit of a stomach won’t quite go away.

On the bright side, today Jimin finishes his waffles, although he only eats half of his fruits (Jeongguk had gotten to them before Jimin could). But Seokjin decides to count his wins rather than his losses.

Progress is progress.

Soon, everyone’s plates empty out, and dutifully, the kids set their dirty dishes onto the sink - for the first time, without prompting from Seokjin. The chairs are tucked in with a bit of scraping, and Seokjin turns to wash the dishes, hearing the telltale pattering of feet and the opening theme of Pororo blaring from the living room. He assumes the kids are tucked into the couches - or likely goofing off and roughhousing again - so he’s surprised when he turns around to see Jimin and Taehyung still standing by the table, engaged in what may very well be a telepathic conversation.

“Boys? What are you two still doing here?”

Jimin and Taehyung turn to him at the same time. The solemn looks in their eyes make him pause, curious, but also slightly nervous. “Uncle Jin!”

He raises his brows, drying his hands with a dishtowel.

“We’re sorry!” They chorus, even bowing their heads at the same time.

Seokjin dumbly replies with an open mouth and a, “Uh…huh?”

“I’m sorry Uncle Jin,” Jimin chews on his lip, looking down and sideways and everywhere not into Seokjin’s eyes. “…I haven’t been a good boy.”

“Me either neither!” Taehyung chimes in, and while he looks determinedly at Seokjin, his hands fidget restlessly with the ends of his pajama shirt. “I should’ve finished all my vegebles and I haven’t.”

“A-and we didn’t clean up after playtime,” Jimin adds nervously. “Sorry.”

“The broken vase too, and the couch and the wall–” Taehyung looks at him wide-eyed. “I-I mean the vase and the couch, the couch, we’re sorry.”

“Uhm…? Okay…?” Seokjin replies unsurely, his brain still trying to catch up.

Jimin and Taehyung look up at him expectantly, pleadingly, as though he holds the key to their fate, and he simply isn’t well-equipped for this so early in the morning. He doubts he’d be prepared for this any time of the day this year, really - or ever. He clears his throat; motioning for them to come closer with what he hopes is a comforting smile as he crouches to their eye level, each hand on the boys’ shoulders.

“I forgive you both. I’m glad you boys are mature enough to own up to your wrongs and apologize - I’m proud of you, and I’m sure your parents are too,” His voice hitches a bit, and he tries to swallow the lump in his throat. Jimin and Taehyung look up at him so earnestly he fears he might just break. “But what brought this on, all of a sudden?”

The two look at each other briefly, then Taehyung says, “Jimin misses dad a lot, but we haven’t been good boys, and dad saw and won’t appear in the sky.”

Seokjin is stupefied. Struck dumb, dumbstruck.

“Taehyung misses appa, too,” Jimin adds. “You said if we’re good boys, appa will be bright and happy, right? We promise to be good today, so appa will be up in the sky tonight, won’t he?”

That’s when Seokjin remembers it’s been cloudy and overcast the past few nights, will remain so for the coming days due to a mild monsoon. There won’t be stars in sight for a few nights more, at the very least.

More than ever, he wishes he had an ounce of Namjoon’s intellect, so he isn’t left fumbling for the right thing to say to these boys. Or at the very least, the perfect way to explain to them that no, good deeds and perfect behavior have no sway against easterly winds and monsoons.

Then he realizes Namjoon had been the one who began all this stuff about stars in the first place (what was that about the road to hell being paved with good intentions?) and he curses his boyfriend instead for putting him in this dilemma in the first place.

Seokjin really doesn’t know what to say.

Does he tell them the truth and take away any possible comfort they might’ve gained from believing their father’s become a star?

He doesn’t get to make the choice. Jimin’s face crumples, and Seokjin realizes he’s been silent too long. Oh no.

“Please, Uncle Jin, we’ll be good, we’ll be good! We promise!” Jimin cries, big fat teardrops leaking down in his cheeks.

Seokjin quickly pulls him into his arms. “Oh Jimin-ah, I know you will - you already are. You’re such a good, sweet boy–”

“Then why won’t appa come out in the sky? Does he hate us?” Jimin cries out, his body shaking with every sob. “Why did appa have to leave? We’re being good, we promise, we’re good! I want appa to come back!”

“Your appa loves you, Jimin-ah, he loves you and Tae and Ggukie.” Seokjin replies thickly, his own eyes hot. “He doesn’t hate any of you at all - he could never hate you–”

“Then why did he have to leave? Why isn’t he here?” Jimin pulls away viciously, face crumpled and wet. “If he loves us why isn’t he here?!”

“Because he can’t come back, Jimin-ah.” Seokjin replies softly, his ears ringing with the very same questions he still asks himself - even when he knows better.

But broken hearts do not listen to reason, and Seokjin knows this well enough, too. Still, his heart breaks all over again when Jimin’s face crumples with a fresh wave of tears, running back to the bedroom.

He hears a wet sniffle, and Seokjin turns to see Taehyung, tears dribbling down his face, too, fists twisted at the hem of his shirt.

“I miss daddy.” Taehyung chokes out.

Seokjin smiles sadly. “I miss him too, Tae.”

“Where the fuck are my tenderloins?!”

The kitchen staff flinch collectively, but nobody dares to raise their heads. The senior staff heave quiet sighs, but the newer, younger hires - including their part-timer dishwasher - quiver in fear. The young commi in question, even more.

“S-Sir?”

“How long does it take an idiot to rub fucking herbs into a slab of meat?” Yoongi slams his meat cleaver, chopping off a whole duck into clean cuts, before rounding onto the trembling young staff. “This is a kitchen, not a petting zoo! Gimme that before you drop it.”

He snatches the tray of freshly marinated meat from the trembling commi, handing a junior chef the chopped up duck. “Deal with this before I blow my fucking fuse.” Yoongi mutters, shoving the tray into the preheated oven after double checking the temperature, then slamming it shut.

“Entrée, coming right up,” Hyeri, one of their senior chefs, says, sliding over a nearly finished plate of lamb chops. Yoongi grabs a clean teaspoon, dripping different colored sauces in swift, meticulous strokes onto the dish. At the raise of a hand, Hyeri dutifully hands him a clean dishtowel to wipe off any excesses.

“Done,” He says at last, Hyeri collecting it with a nod to pass it on to their waiting servers. When Yoongi turns, he spots the commi from before - a kid, really, probably still in culinary school - still standing where he left him. “What’re you standing the fuck around for? Make yourself useful goddamn; the lunch rush ain’t over, kid and those meats aren’t gonna be rubbing marinade on themselves.”

The young commi practically jumps out of his skin, before running back to his previous station, where Young Jae is braising two different pots, while heating up a new batch of oil for deep frying some fritters. Young Jae discreetly offers the young lad a sympathetic smile, before nudging him to check on his braised duck.

Yoongi is already sampling Henry’s fresh batch of sauces for another set of dishes, supervising the plating with an eagle eye. It’s another busy day at Eat Jin with the lunch rush in full swing, a steady flow of customers coming and queuing up, especially after they’d gotten a Michelin star. The stress and high tension isn’t new, but normally Seokjin’s around to ease things down a notch before the kitchen gets too heated.

With Seokjin on leave, however, they’re left under the charge of their sous chef. And while Min Yoongi is a more easy-going person than most, Sous-Chef-turned-Head-Chef Min Yoongi absolutely does not have an ounce of chill in the kitchen.

“Yah, Yoongi-ah, you’re gonna scare away all our newbies if you keep at it,” Hyeri says nonchalantly while she checks on another batch of grilled pork chops just as the sous chef comes to a stop at her station.

Yoongi doesn’t lift his eyes from where he’s chopping up short ribs for galbi with a steady BANG, BANG, BANG! “I’m a chef, not a babysitter; Jin’s fault for hiring sissies.”

“Yoongi-ah,” Hyeri rebukes sternly and Yoongi sighs testily. “Look, I know you’ve been stressed, having to take over as head chef, and we’re all worried about Seokjin-“

“I’m not worried about that idiot-“ Yoongi mutters and Hyeri rolls her eyes but continues.

“Look, I don’t expect you to break out one of Seokjin’s puns-“

“I’d rather die.” Yoongi deadpans and this time, Hyeri flicks his forehead.

“Yah, if you interrupt me one more time, I swear,” the older woman huffs. “As I was saying, I don’t expect you to start cracking jokes, but you can at least try to be nice to our commi - Sungjae did not deserve that tongue lashing, you know.

Yoongi stops himself from releasing the long-suffering sigh building up in his chest, focusing instead on seasoning the chunks of short ribs. “Yes, fine, Hyeri-noona.”

“Good.” She nods, just as a timer dings. She swiftly takes out the tray of perfectly roasted pork belly from the oven. “And could you try to turn down the cursing? At this rate they’re gonna be calling you the Gordon Ramsay of Seoul.”

“As long as no one makes a disaster of a sandwich, noona,” Yoongi replies, passing the seasoned ribs to Kyung Soo for marinating.

The rest of the lunch rush passes by in a flurry of more orders, clanging and banging pots and pans and boards and knives, Yoongi’s occasional curses mixed into the chaos. It isn’t until 2pm when one of their servers, Jackson, comes bursting through the doors yelling, “hyung, hyung, hyung! Yoongi-hyung this is bad, this is bad!” that things take an awry turn.

Yoongi inwardly groans. He really could not wait until Seokjin came back to take this shit off his shoulders. This was not what he’d signed up for two years ago.

Jimin doesn’t come out of the room until Seokjin tells him it’s almost time for lunch. He washes up and gets dressed dutifully, even making sure to tidy up their bed - but he remains quiet and subdued. Taehyung is noticeably quieter today too, leaving Jeongguk to do most of the chattering.

It’s absolute agony.

For once, naptime isn’t much of a struggle. Jimin and Taehyung fall asleep even faster than Jeongguk - who, thankfully, follows soon after.

Seokjin takes this moment of quiet to tidy up the living room, tidy up his own chaotic mind, tidy up his strained and tangled emotions. In the middle of cleaning, he spots a new scribble on the wall by the couch that hadn’t been there yesterday.

This must be the thing about the wall Taehyung had been apologizing for earlier. Seokjin smiles faintly, crouching to take a closer look, taking out his phone to take a photo for posterity (or, y’know, when years down the road, they bring home their crushes, or become famous idols or something).

Just in case.

It’s as he’s zooming out that he realizes it’s right next to the spot on the couch Jeongguk had drawn days ago - still unfinished. The one with his brothers and the moon and one tiny spec for a star.

Taehyung’s scribble suddenly seems more familiar, more coherent - a scribble that looks vaguely like a constellation.

That’s because it is.

It’s Orion - the three stars that form the belt, the arm raised high above its head, the bow. And near the tip of it, closest to the couch, the two blobs, the stars from Taurus. One bigger and brighter than the other. Right to the left of Jeongguk’s wobbly smiling moon.

It’s the star they’d claimed was their father’s.

Seokjin nearly drops his phone. He doesn’t know how long he spends staring at it, his mind at once a storm and an empty void. Somewhere in between, he gets an idea.

He calls Hoseok.

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